1

It hadn't been easy to turn down Patrick Hockstetter. Evelyn thought it would be, but it wasn't.

As Hannah-Beth read herself to sleep that night (the Dawn of Love series was her latest obsession; she couldn't stop talking about it), Evelyn lay awake for hours, staring at the framed postcard on her nightstand. She considered throwing it away. It seemed the right thing to do, given the circumstances. She didn't like Patrick, not even in a platonic way, but she cherished the postcard like it was a treasure. Was that wrong? No boy had ever given her a gift before, not a meaningful one anyway. Victor Criss used to give her presents on her birthday, she supposed, but those had been picked out by his mother. A doll one year, a set of candy-scented body sprays another. They were nice gifts, sure, but they said little about Evelyn or their friendship. Vic hadn't even bothered to wrap them.

But this postcard was different. It was considerate and personal; in a way, it felt intimate. Regardless of his intentions, which were undeniably self-serving, Patrick had seen something and thought of her, remembering a small detail about her life that she'd only shared once, and that one thought was so powerful he had to act on it. Maybe Evelyn was just being overly sentimental, but to her that felt kind of special.

She rolled onto her back. Maybe I was too hard on him.

"What's the matter?" asked Hannah-Beth. "Can't sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Is it because of the movie?"

"No. It wasn't even that scary."

"Oh ... Then what is it?"

"Nothing. Mind if I turn off the light now?"

"No, go ahead. I'm done."

Hannah-Beth set her book aside while Evelyn turned off the lamp and drew up the floral quilt so it went to their shoulders. Hannah-Beth snuggled in a little deeper, getting cozy and warm. Evelyn kept tossing and turning. Down the hall, the boys were listening to Bill Denbrough's latest adventure tale. Evelyn could hear their muffled voices through the wall.

Hannah-Beth turned onto her side. "Is it about Patrick?" she asked. "Because that was really weird, him coming up to you like that."

"Yeah, it was ... Would you believe he asked me out?"

"You're kidding ... Well, what did you say?"

"No, obviously."

"Oh."

"Why do you sound so disappointed?"

"I'm not, I'm not. It's just ... Well, aren't you a little bit curious?"

"About what?"

"About Patrick."

"I don't know ... a little, I guess." Evelyn rolled away from her.

"He's pretty good looking."

"Yeah."

"You've really never thought about it?"

"I already told you I have."

"Oh." Hannah-Beth started swishing her feet back and forth under the covers. "You know, he'd probably take your virginity. Ever thought about that?"

"No," Evelyn said, but that was a lie. She had thought about it a couple times—two, maybe three times max—late at night during those final moments of awakeness. There, in that dark, hazy place between awake and asleep, the thought came to her, quiet as a whisper, and made her body tingle in places it never had before.

But those were tired thoughts, Evelyn decided. Like dreams, they didn't mean anything.

"Well, he would," Hannah-Beth said just in case Evelyn didn't believe her. "You know Miranda Flett?"

"Yeah, she's in my biology class."

"Well, I have English with her, and she said she let Patrick take her virginity a few weeks ago while her parents were at church. At church, of all places! Miranda said she came so hard her toes curled."

"Her toes curled?" Evelyn curled her own toes, just to see what it felt like, and it hurt a little. "But, wait, I thought Miranda was dating Colin Creswell. You'd think they were madly in love from the way she's always going on about him."

"She is, but I guess she got tired of waiting."

Evelyn looked over her shoulder. "What does that mean?"

"I dunno. She said it wasn't working. They kept trying and trying, and he just couldn't get it up."

"Well, maybe he wasn't ready."

"You really think so? I thought guys were always ready for that sorta thing. I mean, that's what everybody says, don't they? ... Anyway, Miranda thinks he might be gay. She says she's gonna give it one more shot, and if he still can't get it up, she's gonna break up with him."

"That's a cruel thing to do. He's probably just nervous, and Miranda's only making it worse by threatening him like that. She needs to be patient and understanding. Sex can be really intimidating, even for guys."

"Hmm ... Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Evelyn moved onto her back and sat up on her elbows. "Why was Miranda telling you all that, anyway? That's their private business. She had no right to go blabbing about it to you."

"I dunno ... She just started talking about it in class."

"Well, she shouldn't have," Evelyn said, and she lay back down.

Hannah-Beth went quiet but only for a minute. "So have you thought about it?"

"Thought about what?"

"Losing your virginity."

"Well, yeah ... Who hasn't?"

"Yeah ... So you do you want it to be?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, when you're thinking about it, who do you see yourself doing it with? ... Mine's Kenneth Klein."

"From the football team?"

"Yeah ... He's got a real nice butt. Plus I heard he's hung like a horse."

A moment of silence passed between them before Evelyn busted into a fit of giggles. She laughed until her sides hurt and tears were streaming down her face. "Oh, Hannah," Evelyn said, letting out a few more easy chuckles. "Wow, you're such a perv."

Hannah-Beth gave her a half-hearted kick, and Evelyn thought she might start up all over again.

"So?" Hannah-Beth asked. "Who's yours?"

Evelyn's throat got really tight. "I dunno."

She thought she knew, but now she wasn't so sure.

"Don't lie ... I told you mine, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"So ... Who is it?"

Evelyn didn't know what to say. "Just, uh, someone I kinda love, I guess."

Hannah-Beth sighed wistfully. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

"Mhm." Evelyn pulled the floral quilt up to her chin and rolled back onto her side.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I dunno, you just sound funny."

"I'm just tired."

"Oh ... Well, good night, then."

"Good night, Hannah."

2

On Monday, Evelyn failed her psychology quiz.

It shouldn't have happened. Evelyn studied for it the night before and glossed over the questions before she began. It seemed straight forward enough. No unexpected curveballs or trick questions to send you into a nervous tail-spin. It was just one page, a mixture of multiple-choice and fill-in-the-blank questions. Easy peasy, Evelyn thought, but somehow everything fell apart once she put the date in the top-right corner.

09/19/1988

The school board was holding Henry's expulsion hearing five days from today. Evelyn wasn't supposed to know that, but Mr. Burke let it slip while they were talking during the period change. Now, Evelyn couldn't get it out of her head.

Five days. It felt so sudden.

But it was never supposed to come to this, she thought as she filled in the little answer bubbles with her pencil: B, C, A, B, C. I said I was gonna take care of it—I should have been able to take care of it—and I couldn't even deliver on that. Now the date is set, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Nothing! (She accidentally wrote "Nothing" in one of the blanks and had to go back and erase it.) I fucked up. I didn't do enough. I didn't focus enough. I let myself get distracted by Patrick and his bullshit, and Liz Mueller's stupid party. I don't even like parties, so why did I go? I could have been writing a letter to the superintendent during that time. Why didn't I do that? It might've helped. It might've...

"And that's time, class," said Mrs. Fletcher. "Pass your quizzes to the front, please."

The whole class seemed to sigh together. Pass or fail, at least it was over. Evelyn took the stack of papers from Molly Whittle and placed her quiz on top of the pile. In front of her, Nathan Weller was scrambling to answer the last two questions. She patiently waited for him to finish.

"So how'd you do?" Molly asked her neighbor.

"Pretty good, I think. What about you?"

"Okay, I hope. That last essay was a real killer, though."

"Ugh, tell me about it. I basically bullshitted my way through the whole thing."

Evelyn yanked the stack away just as Nathan Weller went to grab it. Essay? she thought, a lump forming in her throat. There was an essay? Where? I didn't see an essay. I checked the whole thing over before I started, and there was no essay.

Nathan made a face at her."What the hell are you doing, Tozier?"

Again, Evelyn pulled the pile out of his reach. "Just wait," she said, and she took her quiz and looked it over once more, just to be sure. It was the same twenty questions she'd seen before. Ten bubbles, ten blank lines, all filled perfectly with the correct answers.

Where was the essay?

"All quizzes to the front, please," said Mrs. Fletcher. "All quizzes to the front."

"Just wait!" Evelyn hissed over all the noise, and she checked the paper again.

This time she saw it: the little note at the bottom of the page, written in the smallest font ever created. Evelyn must have read it a dozen times before Nathan Weller tore the paper out of her hands and sent it forward.

The quiz continues on the back.
The quiz continues on the back.
The quiz continues on the back.

Evelyn collapsed against her backrest, feeling disoriented and confused. "I didn't check the back?"

Her friends couldn't believe it, either.

"Wait, you didn't check the back?" Paul said while pressing down on his hamburger bun until the ground beef came pouring out the sides. Paul liked his sloppy joes extra sloppy: overflowing with meat and smushed together with coleslaw and dill pickle slices. It barely fit in his hands. "Damn, Evelyn, that's like test-taking 101. You always check the back before you start, always. What the hell happened?"

Evelyn cut her sandwich in half with a butter knife. "I don't know," she said, bringing one half to her mouth. "I wasn't thinking."

"Obviously." Paul took a bite of his sandwich and made a mess all over his face. Evelyn tossed him a second napkin, and he muttered thanks before wiping his mouth. "You know that essay was worth half your total score, right?"

"I'm aware."

"Well, did you tell Mrs. Fletcher what happened? I bet if you told her, she'd let you finish the quiz after school or something."

"Yeah." That's exactly what happened. Mrs. Fletcher caught Evelyn after class and offered her an extra ten minutes to finish the essay. Evelyn said no. She didn't think it would be fair to the other students.

"Man," said Paul, "this is like last semester all over again."

Evelyn let out a tired moan. "Oh, stop it, Paul. This is nothing like that."

"Really? Because it seems awfully familiar."

Hannah-Beth put down her turkey sandwich and timidly asked, "What happened last semester?"

"Nothing," Evelyn said. "Paul's just exaggerating things."

"Exaggerating?" He almost choked on his food. "Ev, you freaked out during the English final because you thought you brought the wrong notebook. You didn't even need your notebook! Everyone thought you were having a nervous breakdown or something. The teacher had to send you to the nurse's office to lie down."

Hannah-Beth's jaw dropped. "You went to the nurse's office?"

"Only for like thirty minutes." Paul made it seem like she went into a year-long coma. "I was perfectly fine after that. No lasting damage. And I ended up acing that final, too, so I don't know why Paul's making such a fuss over nothing. Honestly, Hannah, it wasn't a big deal. I just got a little stressed out, that's all. There was a lot going on at the time."

And Evelyn refused to go back there, not even for a second. She couldn't keep torturing herself forever.

"Anyway," she said, smiling brightly, "let's move on to some to some good news, shall we? Our posters were a huge hit with the entire student body. Did you guys see? It was great! For once, they were actually smiling and laughing and, well, completely ignoring our core message, but that's okay. Small victory, right? At least now we have their attention. Of course, that means our next poster is gonna have to be ten times better, so we'll need to start brainstorming new ideas asap."

"Or we can just quit while we're ahead," Paul said while Lenny nodded along. "Personally, I don't mind being a one-hit wonder."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Nobody likes a slacker, Paul. Come on, your last idea was great! I'm sure you've got tons more hiding in that brain of yours. We just need to find the right key to unlock it. Like, what about superheroes? We could do a superhero-themed one. Or something Halloween-themed for the season. Oh, I like that idea. Hannah, get your notebook; I think I'm onto something here. We can do something really fun and spooky."

"Like ghosts and witches?" Hannah said excitedly.

"Exactly! And monsters too, like a werewolf and a mummy, and we could say, 'Only Real Monsters Bully' or something like that. I dunno, we'll work out the slogan later." Feeling inspired, Evelyn tossed around a few more ideas while Hannah-Beth wrote feverishly with her pen. "Yeah, I like that one! For the ghost, we could do something simple and cute like, 'Boo! Don't Bully!'"

Hannah-Beth squealed. "I love it!"

"And—What? What, Paul?"

Paul was nudging Evelyn's foot under the table. When she looked at him, he gave his eyebrows a suggestive wiggle and said, "Your dorky boyfriend's coming this way."

Evelyn scowled. He's not my boyfriend, she wanted to say, but she realized it didn't matter. Jake Newham was approaching now from the other side of the cafeteria. He was dressed more formally today, in grey slacks and a green cable-knit sweater that was left partially unzipped to reveal the white collared shirt underneath. Lenny said he looked like Mister Rogers in that sweater, but personally Evelyn didn't see the resemblance. She thought he looked very handsome and presidential, especially when he smiled.

"Hey, Jake," Evelyn said warmly. "You look very nice today."

"Thanks," Jake replied, flashing a bashful smile that made Evelyn sigh. "We're doing debates in my public speaking class today."

"Oh, that sounds like fun. I'd love to do something like that."

"Yeah? You wanna go toe-to-toe with me sometime, Tozier? Gotta warn you, though, I'm pretty persuasive."

"Are you now?" Evelyn challenged, her lips curling into a smirk. "Well, I think I can hold my own just fine."

"I don't doubt that for a second," he said, chuckling. Evelyn laughed with him. For a moment, she forgot there were other people at the table, until she heard Paul and Lenny snickering. Jake heard it, too, and started rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I just wanted to drop by real quick and tell you how much I love the new posters, Evelyn. I had no idea you liked Star Wars."

"Oh, I don't," Evelyn admitted. Paul had forced her to watch all three movies over summer break, but they weren't really her taste. "Actually, the whole concept was Paul's idea. I just went along with it."

"I see." Jake sounded a little bummed. "Well, nice work, man."

Paul nodded. "Thank you, Mr. President."

Evelyn kicked him under the table.

"Anyway," Jake went on, "I heard you were at Liz's on Friday. You know, it's funny, I was thinking about heading over there myself, but I had a college tour the next morning, so I didn't bother. Kinda sucks, though. Woulda been nice to see you outside of school for a change."

"Yeah, for sure," Evelyn said. "I was actually hoping to see you there."

He stood up a little taller. "You were?"

"Yeah, I was hoping to work on the skit a little bit, bounce some ideas off you."

At those words, his posture deflated. Evelyn wondered if she'd said something wrong.

"Oh," Jake said. "Well, yeah, we can do that sometime. Are you free after school today? We could meet at the library, if you want, and start working on a script. I'd love to hear your ideas. They're always so great."

Evelyn's eyes sparkled. "That would be amazing!" she gushed, feeling her heart flutter in her chest, but then she remembered something that made her smile disappear in an instant. "I just ... I can't today. I'm sorry, I've got somewhere I need to be."

"Oh ... Well, what about Saturday?"

"Saturday?" she repeated dismally. Of all the days, why did he have to choose Saturday? "Well, I ..."

"Can't, huh?"

Evelyn could hear the resignation in his voice. It was like a knife to her heart. Jake probably thought she was just making up some lame excuse to blow him off. But that's not it at all, Evelyn wanted to tell him. You have no idea how badly I wanna hang out with you, Jake. I just ... can't. She sighed hopelessly. "I'm really sorry."

Jake gave her a consoling pat on the shoulder before he left. "Hey, that's okay. No big deal. We'll just do it some other time, all right?"

Evelyn nodded and put on a smile, but deep down she knew it would never happen. Because something always gets in the way. At this point, she wondered if she was just sabotaging herself on purpose.

She reached for her tray. "Um, I need to go."

"Go?" said Hannah-Beth. "But the lunch period's not even over yet."

"Yeah, I know," Evelyn said in a hurried voice. "I just, uh, I have something I need to do. I'll see you guys later, okay?"

Hannah-Beth was still confused. "Okay, buh—" She raised her hand to wave goodbye, but Evelyn was already at the trash bins, scraping food off her tray with her fork. Then her silverware went into the dishpan, her tray went on top of the stack, and she was gone.

Hannah-Beth sighed. "She's always running off somewhere, isn't she? Must be exhausting." Then to the others, she asked, "Don't you guys think she's pushing herself too hard?"

"Oh, definitely," Paul said, bringing his sandwich back to his mouth, "but that's what Evelyn does. You'll get used to it."

3

Evelyn put both hands on the counter and glared at the school secretary.

"I don't see what the problem is here," she said, an annoyed rumble in her voice. "It's not like I'm asking to view his medical records or anything. I'm just asking for a copy of his schedule. That shouldn't be too hard to provide."

Miss Stoker was being awfully smug as she ate her tuna pasta salad. "I already told you, I can't give out personal information." She skewered a noodle with her fork and slid it into her mouth, fluttering her eyes in a self-amused manner. "Anything else, hun?"

Evelyn exhaled deeply through her nose. "Is Principal Hellyer in his office?"

"He's out having lunch with his wife. Won't be back till one."

The bell rang then, signaling the end of the lunch period. Evelyn's next class, biology, started in less than ten minutes. So that's how she intends to get rid of me. Just run out the clock and send me on my way. Well, let's see how she handles this.

Evelyn sat down on one of the chairs and made herself comfortable. "Then I'll just wait for him."

"Oh? Won't Mr. Beecroft be expecting you?"

"I'm sure he will be, but I've found him to be very understanding in situations like this, especially considering all the extra grading I do for him. In fact, now that I think about it, I don't think he'll mind at all." She smiled and tipped her head to one side. "Of course, you could just give me Henry's schedule and save me the trouble. I'd hate to miss such an important class because the school secretary's holding student information hostage, which I'd say is a huge violation of your position."

Her eyes narrowed. "Well, aren't you just a little brat? Fine, sit there all day if you like."

And Evelyn did. She sat on that hard, scantly cushioned chair for forty minutes straight. Of course, it did occur to her (after about fifteen minutes, when her backside started to ache) that she could have simply gone to class and returned later that afternoon, but that would've been too easy. Evelyn was making a point now by sitting there. A peaceful protest of sorts, because she liked the way that sounded in her head.

Miss Stoker couldn't stand it. Her typing was getting more aggressive by the minute, but Evelyn didn't care. Let her get angry. Let her get furious. It wasn't fair for Miss Stoker to discriminate against students like Henry Bowers, ill-behaved as he was. When Evelyn asked for a copy of his schedule, Miss Stoker dismissed her request with a cruel laugh and said she had to be joking.

Well, did it seem like she was joking now?

Principal Hellyer strolled into the front office a little after one o'clock. He must have had a hearty lunch because his suit jacket was left unbuttoned to display a full, round belly that spilled over his belt. He moved to cover it when he saw Evelyn sitting there, smiling sweetly with that persistent twinkle in her brown eyes. She asked how his lovely wife was doing. He said she was doing fine, just fine, and thanked her for asking. The pleasantries ended there.

"Might I ask what you're doing here, Evelyn? You should be in class right now."

"She refuses to leave," Miss Stoker said with a sniff.

That's when Evelyn slowly arose from the chair, her muscles stiff and tight. "I'll gladly leave as soon as I get Henry's schedule, sir. That's all I want."

"Yeah, and she's being a real pain in the ass about it," Miss Stoker piped up again, but Principal Hellyer was quick to quiet her.

"That's enough, Miss Stoker. Thank you."

The secretary let out a huff, spun around in her chair, and then stormed off toward the fax machines.

Evelyn gave the principal a pleading look. "I'm really not trying to be a pain, and I never meant to bother you. It's just, someone needs to bring Henry his assignments before he falls behind. I figure that someone might as well be me."

After all, nobody else would. She had asked Victor Criss, but he flat-out refused, saying it wasn't worth his time. Some friend, right?

The principal seemed to share his sentiment. "Evelyn, you're wasting your time. Henry's not gonna do his assignments even if you bring them to him. Besides, the school board's already scheduled his hearing—"

"For Saturday, I know, but until then, Henry's still a student here, and he has a right to his assignments. You might think it's pointless, but, with all due respect, sir, that's not really any of your business." Evelyn said those words carefully, a nervous smile creeping up her face. She might've been speaking out of turn, but it was too late to go back now. "I'm going to collect his assignments, all of them. Whether or not he does them, well, that's up to him, but ... at least I'll know I did everything I could."

The principal eventually yielded to Evelyn's demands, but in the end it felt less like a victory and more like a cheap consolation prize.

Hey, I know your efforts were totally in vain, kiddo, but here's a shitty piece of paper to make you feel better. Try and make the best of it.

That's what Evelyn intended to do as she made the rounds after school, going from class to class and giving the same heartfelt speech to all of Henry's teachers. Their responses were exactly what Evelyn expected: they saw the whole thing as an annoying inconvenience. Henry wasn't going to do the work anyway, so why bother? It was nothing but a waste of time and effort; and they had other students to worry about, ones who actually cared.

Most patient of all was Mrs. Whitwell, who taught ninth- and tenth-grade English. Evelyn thought Mrs. Whitwell was one of Derry's best teachers: calm and compassionate, even with rotten-apples like Henry Bowers.

"I appreciate you doing this," Evelyn said as Mrs. Whitwell wrote out a detailed summary of last week and this week's assignments. "I know you're really busy."

Mrs. Whitwell tipped a smile at her, then resumed her writing. "It's no trouble. Although, I will admit I was a bit surprised by the request. I take it Henry didn't ask you to do this."

"No, he didn't."

"And he probably won't even read this, will he?"

"Probably not," Evelyn said, a shameful blush dusting her cheeks. She lowered her eyes to the floor. "I'm really sorry to waste your time like this. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Mrs. Whitwell laughed gently. "No need for that. Like I said, it's no trouble. And I'm almost finished here if you don't mind waiting a bit longer. I know you like to keep busy, so if I'm keeping you from something ..."

"No, please, take your time."

Evelyn looked at the brightly-colored bulletin board while she waited. Mrs. Whitwell used the board to post friendly grammar reminders and inspirational quotes from her favorite authors, but its true purpose was to showcase her creative writing students' work. She changed out the display every week with new poems and short stories. One day, Evelyn hoped to see one of Bill Denbrough's stories there. She encouraged him to take the class if his schedule ever allowed it.

"We're doing a horror showcase next month," Mrs. Whitwell said. "I'm planning on holding a little contest, too, just to make things interesting. Scariest story gets a giant bowl of candy. Would do you think?"

"I think that's a great idea."

"I think so, too. Anyway, I'm all finished now." Mrs. Whitwell waved Evelyn back to her desk. She had everything neatly tucked in a buff-colored folder, all ready to go. "In case he asks, which I doubt he will, I've written out all the textbook reading assignments and noted which summary questions need to be answered. He only needs to do the ones I've listed, okay? Ignore all the others. For composition and grammar, I've included some worksheets and this month's writing prompt, and—" She reached into her bottom drawer and pulled out a small paperback novel. "Here's the book we're currently reading: All Quiet on the Western Front. We're only on chapter three, so he shouldn't have a hard time catching up."

Evelyn nodded. "I remember reading that last year. It's a good book." She took the folder and the book and thanked Mrs. Whitwell again. "It means a lot, to me at least. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow."

Mrs. Whitwell stopped her at the door. "For what it's worth," she said, "I don't think Henry should be expelled either."

Evelyn forced a smile. Well-intentioned as that statement may have been, it felt like another worthless consolation prize. Throw it away, she thought. It won't do you any good.

But then, just as she was about to leave, something dawned on her. This was no mere consolation prize. No, this prize came with a tiny glimmer of hope that was too dazzling to ignore.

Evelyn turned back. "Mrs. Whitwell," she said, "I know it's probably too much to ask, but do you think you could write a statement for Henry's hearing? I mean, I'm not naive or anything. I know it's not gonna do much to help his case. They're gonna be dragging out, like, ten years of bad behavior to use against him on Saturday. A little piece of paper won't really stack up, will it?" She laughed bitterly. It hurt her chest a little. "It's just, at this point I'm kind of desperate for anything that might paint Henry in a more positive light, so anything you can give me—a paragraph or even a sentence if that's already too much—would be great."

Mrs. Whitwell smiled. "Sure, Evelyn, I can do that for you."

"Really?" she said, her voice breaking with unrestrained joy. For a second, she thought it was all gonna come bursting out of her out like confetti out of a party popper. "Wow, you have no idea how badly I needed to hear that. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Oh, and Evelyn?"

Evelyn almost dropped everything when she spun back around. "Yes?"

"You should talk to Mr. Wallander, the shop teacher. I know Henry's taken a couple of his classes, so if you're looking for a good character witness, he'd probably be your best bet. I don't think I've ever heard him say a bad word about the kid."

Evelyn's face broke into a grin. "Gotcha. Mr. Wallender. I'll definitely track him down. Thank you, Mrs. Whitwell."

Her fingers fluttered a quick goodbye; then she turned and

4

WHAM!

Jamison Freiborg came running out of the building and rammed into Evelyn from behind. She gasped, catching her balance on the step's edge, but the damage had already been done. The tower of books tumbled out of her arms and clattered, head over tail, down the stairs. Folders whipped open. Papers flew out and scattered everywhere. Jamison stomped a dirty footprint on one of Henry's worksheets as he barreled past her, mumbling an apology under his breath.

Evelyn glared at his back. Keep your half-assed apology, she thought, dropping her backpack on the step. If you were really sorry, you'd help me. Asshole.

She bent down to pick everything up, starting with the books, which she piled neatly off to the side. Then she moved onto the papers, dusting them off and reorganizing them as best as she could before returning them to their proper folders. She cut her finger on one of the sheets and hissed between her teeth.

"Yikes," someone said behind her. "Homework massacre."

In mid-reach, Evelyn turned her head and saw Belch Huggins standing at the bottom of the stairs, a small bundle of books clutched loosely at his side. She expected him to just keep walking (if he was with the rest of the guys, he certainly would have—or done worse), so she was pleasantly surprised to see him bending down to pick up the papers around him. He was doing it mindfully, too, careful not to wrinkle or rip them. He even wiped off some of the dirt before handing them back to her.

"Thanks," Evelyn said, and she slid them back into the folder.

He went to grab another sheet. "You ask for extra homework or something, Tozier?"

He'd meant it as a joke, she assumed, but Evelyn didn't get it. Did she really seem like the type to ask for extra homework? She liked school, sure, but certainly not that much.

She shrugged it off. "They're mostly Henry's. Figured he should at least try to get caught up."

"Oh," Belch said, almost swallowing the word. "Well, that was nice of you."

"Yeah. Can you hand me those, please?"

She was pointing at the papers in his blind spot, the last of the bunch. Belch snatched them up quickly and passed them over to her. She thanked him again, but in a distracted sort of way, and started quickly reforming her stack for the long walk home. When she picked it up, the damned thing was so tall it went up to her nose.

Belch gave his head a shake. "You sure you can manage that all right?"

"Yeah," Evelyn said, wincing a little as she struggled to find the right grip. "The backpack acts as a counterweight, so I shouldn't fall over or anything."

He nodded absently, not even half believing her.

Evelyn teeter-tottered past him for a couple feet, then stopped. "Unless ..." She turned around and stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. "Never mind."

"What is it?" Belch asked, though he already had a pretty good hunch about what it was. He was planning to offer it anyway because he couldn't in good conscience let the girl walk home with that many heavy books. His mother had raised him better than that.

Evelyn winced again. "I was just thinking—well, actually, I was hoping that you might be able to give me a ride to Henry's. I was gonna ride my bike there, but I'm thinking now that might not be too smart."

"Yeah," said Belch. That wasn't smart at all. In fact, it was downright stupid. "I can give you a lift. We gotta wait for Vic, though."

"That's fine," Evelyn said, perking up instantly. "I'm in no hurry."

Belch nodded again, then started coming toward her. "Well, here, let me take these before your arms give out." He grabbed half the stack from her, the bigger half, and added it to his own pile, managing the extra weight with ease. "We can always throw these in the trunk or ..."

A cold feeling passed between them. Belch didn't notice it at first, but then he saw Evelyn pull away all of a sudden, an uncomfortable expression creasing her face.

"Oh," Belch whispered, realizing his mistake. "Right, sorry, not the trunk." Idiot. He scratched underneath his cap, thinking. "Umm, how 'bout we just toss them in the back, then?"

Evelyn cracked a small smile and nodded.

Victor Criss came out a couple minutes later, empty-handed and eager to head home. His steps slowed when he saw Evelyn standing by the car with his friend, and he asked without saying a word, What's going on?

"We gotta make an extra stop before heading to your place," Belch said. "She wants to drop off Henry's homework."

Vic looked at Evelyn, squinting like the sun had gotten into his eyes, and drew away from them. "You two go ahead, then. I'll just walk home."

"What?" said Belch. "You're gonna walk?"

"Yeah, I gotta get home before my mom chews my ear off. Anyway, you two go on ahead. Don't worry about me."

Belch shrugged. "Well, okay. See ya, man."

Vic nodded (in that lazy, uncaring way that he always did) and shoved his hands in the deep pockets of his jacket. Belch went around to the driver's side and opened his door. Evelyn moved to do the same, but then she felt Vic brush past her all of a sudden, bumping her shoulder with his.

With a half-hidden smirk, he said, "Tell Henry I said hi."

5

The long ride to the Bowers farm was filled with shy, awkward glances and unbearable silences that seemed to stretch out further than the road itself. It hadn't started out that way, though. When Evelyn first got into the car, Belch made a rather funny observation about her seatbelt or, more specifically, the fact that she was wearing one at all.

"You know," he said, "I think you might be the first person to actually wear that thing."

As he thought about it now, it wasn't terribly funny (not even a little bit), but Evelyn was generous enough to laugh when he said it. It was a light, effortless giggle that immediately made Belch feel at ease.

And perhaps that was the problem; perhaps Belch just got a little too comfortable, because right after that was when he put his foot in his mouth and ruined everything.

"Hey, Evelyn," he said, "I'm awfully sorry about what happened back then. You know, all that stuff with your brother? I swear, it wasn't supposed to go that far." They were gonna rough him up a little, sure, but far as he knew that was it. "Henry just, he wasn't right that day. You know he wouldn't have done it otherwise. He just wasn't thinking clearly, and Patrick, he kept—"

Evelyn cut him off. "Please," she said tiredly. "Can we not talk about that right now? I appreciate your apology and everything, I do, but I just ... I can't talk about that, not here. It doesn't feel right."

Belch understood what she meant, and he felt guilty for bringing it up. "Sure. Sorry."

And he said nothing more after that.

Their silence continued until they reached the intersection of Kansas and West Broadway. Belch stopped at the sign and waited for a couple of little kids to cross the street. That's when he stole a glance at Evelyn and saw her watching the kids with a peaceful smile on her face. Once they were safely across, she turned toward him and said, "Thank you, by the way, for taking me home the other night. It was really nice of you, Reggie."

It always made Belch smile a little when someone used his actual name.

"Sure, no problem," he said, feeling shy all of a sudden. He put his foot back on the gas, and the car rolled on. "It was a good thing we stumbled upon you when we did, though. I could have easily turned around and missed you."

"What do you mean?" Evelyn asked. "I thought you were taking Vic home."

"Hmm? No, we were out looking for Henry."

"Henry?" She leaned forward, pushing against the seatbelt. "What happened to Henry?"

"Eh, nothing, really. He just got drunk and kinda wandered off. We actually thought he might go looking for you, so ..." He cleared his throat, thinking he may have already said too much. "Anyway, he's fine. He slept it off at Vic's house."

Evelyn sucked in a quiet breath.

"Did he now?" Her mouth opened like she was about to laugh; then she fell back into her seat, seeming amused and irritated all at the same time. "That lying bastard. No wonder he didn't wanna get in the car."

Belch knew who she was talking about, but he thought it best not to get involved.

"Hey, you mind if I put on the radio?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Cool." He switched on the radio and turned up the volume when he heard his favorite song playing. "You listen to Metallica at all?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, I like 'em a lot."

"Yeah, I can tell."

"Really? How's that?"

"Because of your shirt."

Belch looked down at his shirt and blushed. "Oh, right."

6

Further down Kansas Street (further than most ever needed to go), the Derry townscape gave way to soft, rolling hills, dirt roads, and miles and miles of pasture.

The Bowers farm was situated on a small spread of land off Route 2, near the Newport town line. Evelyn felt her heart speed up as Belch turned off the main road and drove slowly down a long bend of dirt and gravel. The house stood at the end of it, surrounded by overgrown bushes and trees. It was an old farmhouse with white wooden siding, a large front porch, and a tall chimney stack that jutted out from the roof. Good bones, you might say, but it had already begun to show its age. The paint was chipped, the wood had started to wither, and the lawn was overrun with rocks and weeds.

But, she had to admit, it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. In a certain light, it was actually quite charming.

"You've never been here before, huh?" said Belch, and Evelyn realized she had been staring at the house for way too long.

"You nervous?"

"No," Evelyn said, but her mouth felt dry when she swallowed and her palms had begun to dampen. She wiped them off on her jeans and told herself to calm down. After all, it was just a house.

Belch saw her fidgeting. "I can just drop them off if you want. Really, I don't mind."

"No," Evelyn said. "I can do it."

She wanted to do it.

Evelyn gathered up everything and stepped out of the car, promising to return soon. Outside, it was calm and quiet, the kind of quiet that made you feel like the only person in the world. At first, it was peaceful, but then, the longer Evelyn stood there, hearing nothing but the wind and the distant birds, it started to feel a little lonely.

Belch stuck his head out the window, startling Evelyn when he hollered, "What're you scared or something?" He made a shooing motion with his hand. "Go on."

So Evelyn did.

She climbed up the porch slowly, avoiding the rotted areas with her feet. Waiting at the top was a white aluminum screen door with ripped mesh paneling. It was the only thing that now stood between Evelyn and the darkened entryway of the Bowers house.

She rang the doorbell and peered inside, seeing vague shapes of living room furniture and a short hallway that led straight into the kitchen. Evelyn craned her neck, wanting to see more, but then she heard a loud scuffling sound coming from upstairs. It began above her head, then moved further away, heading towards the back of the house. Feet thumped. Stairs creaked. In the kitchen, a chair groaned against the floor, and then Henry Bowers came around the corner, stopping in the middle of the hallway.

"Hi," Evelyn uttered out of habit. She raised her hand in a quick wave.

Henry leaned forward a little, like he was struggling to see, then came toward her and pushed open the screen door.

Evelyn staggered back. The first thing she noticed was the bright red line of a scratch on Henry's left cheek, and once she noticed it, that was all she could see. The skin around it carried a faint reddish-purple hue that looked painful and tender.

"Your face," she said, wanting to reach up and touch it. In the past, she probably would have gotten away with it, but now he would have surely slapped her hand away.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, sounding irritated. "What are you doing here, Evelyn?"

She looked away from the cut and back into his eyes. The leaning tower of school materials should have spoken for itself, but since it didn't, she said, "I got your assignments for you, last week's and this week's. Reggie was even nice enough to give me a ride."

"Huh?" For a second, that name was unfamiliar to him. He stuck his head through the doorway and saw Belch's car in the driveway. His friend gave a lazy wave.

"Fuckin' figures." Henry made a low hissing sound deep in his throat and then went back inside.

Evelyn didn't hesitate to follow.

Inside, the house was stuffy and smelled of cigarette smoke. Used ashtrays and old beer bottles stood like fine sculptures on every flat surface, leaving little room for anything else. Evelyn looked around, feeling overwhelmed by them all.

"Umm, where should I put these?" she asked. "My arms are getting tired."

"Just put 'em anywhere," Henry said, so Evelyn put them on the sofa.

Then she glanced around the room curiously, taking it all in. "So this is your house, huh? You know, it's bigger than I imagined it would be." When people talked about it at school, they made it sound like some run-down shack in the middle of nowhere. "But I like it. It's kinda cozy."

Henry grunted like he didn't believe her, but Evelyn meant every word. Despite all the beer bottles and ashtrays (and the random weight bench in the middle of the room, which caught Evelyn by surprise), the house felt comfortable and warm. It was an old feeling, though, dusty and ghostly, as if the house itself was haunted by a pleasant memory.

All of his mother's things were still there: pictures, knickknacks, tiny glass figurines. She hadn't bothered to come back for any of them. Maybe that was why Henry looked so uncomfortable. Or maybe he just wanted Evelyn to hurry up and leave.

"I managed to get most of your homework," she said. "There's still a math quiz you'll have to make up when you get back, but that shouldn't be too hard. I got your books out of your locker, too, but I couldn't find your English book anywhere. Do you know where that is? Maybe you left it in your room or ..."

Henry shrugged uncaringly.

"Well, you'll need that to do your work."

"Who says I'm gonna do my work?"

"I do," Evelyn said, making him roll his eyes, "because, you know what, it's a good gesture, Henry. It shows the school that you're actually willing to make a real effort."

He let out a groan. "It doesn't matter, Ev."

"Of course it does."

"No, it doesn't!" he shouted, slamming his fist back against the wall. "None of it fuckin' matters! They're gonna kick me out no matter what I do!"

"You don't know that!" Evelyn yelled back, way more loudly than she should have, but she couldn't help it. Her head was throbbing. "I'm so, so tired ... If you knew half the shit I went through today, ..."

She hung her head, realizing he wouldn't care. "Please, just stop fighting me on this, okay? I can fix this if you let me."

By then, Henry's anger had subsided. He slumped against the wall and laid his head against it. "Why are you doing all this, Ev?"

"I dunno," she said weakly. Guilt, mostly, but you already know that. I figure if I do this, maybe things can actually go back to normal between us. And if not, then—oh well—I guess I'll finally be able to move on with my life. One way or another, at least it'll be over.

More than anything, she just wanted it to be over.

She turned to leave. "Anyway, I should go." It wasn't fair to keep Reggie waiting outside forever. The poor guy was probably bored out of his mind. "I'll see you on Saturday, okay?"

"Don't bother," said Henry, and Evelyn stopped in front of the door, frozen in disbelief.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want you there," he said; this time, his tone was firm and final.

"Yeah, but why? Because of all the shit that's gonna come out? Who cares? It's not like I haven't heard it all before, Henry."

"Look, I just don't want you there, okay? I won't be able to focus if you're there."

"I'll just be a distraction?"

"Yeah," he said, "something like that."

Evelyn swallowed hard but forced herself to nod. "Well, okay ... Umm, I guess I'll just turn in my statement to Principal Hellyer, then. I was planning on typing it out anyway, so, yeah, I guess that works, too." She put her hand on the handle, twisted, and pushed. "See ya, Henry."

That night, after dinner was done and all the dishes were cleaned, Evelyn made a phonecall to Jake Newham.

"Hey, sorry to call you so late. I just wanted to talk to you about Saturday ... Did you still wanna get together? Because I'm totally free now."

I'm so sorry this chapter took me so long. It wasn't for lack of effort, though. I was working on it every day, but it just wasn't coming together like I hoped it would. I'm still not completely satisfied with it.

Anyway, the next chapter will be a lot better. Thanks for reading!