The hallway was chaos—kids shouting, lockers slamming, summer break only minutes away—but it all came to a screeching halt when you spun around and shoved Henry Bowers in the chest. Not enough to budge him, but enough to make him stop dead in his tracks. His smug grin twitched.

“The hell’s your problem, runt?”

he barked, loud enough to make a couple kids freeze mid-step.

“I’m sick of your bullshit, Henry,”

you snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“Every day, someone’s gotta deal with your loudmouth, insecure-ass tantrums. You think you're hot shit ‘cause everyone’s too scared to say something, but not me. Not today.”

Henry laughed, but there was a twitch in his eye.

“You? What, all five feet of you? You think you scare me?”

He stepped closer, towering over you, but you didn’t budge an inch.

“Go run back to your little friends before you get flattened.”

You scoffed.

“Yeah, that’s what you want, right? Me walking away, you getting to run your mouth without anyone calling you out. You’re not tough, Henry. You’re just some jackass with daddy issues who bullies kids half your size to feel powerful.”

That hit. His face twitched, his grin gone.

“You better watch your fucking mouth.”

“Or what? You’ll beat me up? Real tough guy move, beating on girls. Go ahead. Hit me. Everyone’s watching. Show 'em who you really are.”

A crowd had formed now, kids whispering, eyes wide, like no one could believe what they were seeing—a wiry little girl standing toe to toe with Henry fucking Bowers.

“You think anyone gives a shit what you say?” he sneered.

“You’re a joke, a loser. Always have been.”

You shot back quick.

“Then why are you so pissed?”

And for the first time in a long time, Henry didn’t have anything left to say.