GHOST - IT [1]

ONE.

Everyone enjoyed summer break; every child, that is. Adults despised the warmer season due to having to actually look after their children again- a task that they liked pretending they didn't sign up for. But Jaime Criss felt a bit like an adult when it came to summer because she enjoyed school; it acted as a distraction from her home life. Her older brother, Victor, prawled around with Henry Bowers and his goons in his free time, and their father was always away, therefore Jaime felt alone most days. Her relationship with her entire family had once been close-knit, but lately that seemed to deteriorate. Especially since their parents divorce.

Taking one last glance into her empty locker, Jaime sighed heavily before slamming it shut. She'd miss having an escape, but at least she had free time now. Abandoning her locker, she saw a flash of orange toned hair slip through the hectic after school crowd. She jumped up and raced to the source of the hair.

"Beverly!" She called, catching up with the other young girl. Beverly Marsh glanced back, leaf colored eyes wide as they anticipated another torment. But instead, it was someone who had actually taken a liking to her.

"Jaime." She greeted, slowing down so her friend could catch up. "I told you, it's a stupid thing to be seen with me. You're just signing up for Greta to gossip about you and call you a 'little shit'." She grimaced.

Jaime rolled her eyes. "Like I care. No one believes anything she says anymore. She spread a rumor in sixth grade about Bradley Collins stashing dead rodents in his locker. Turns out he was just keeping unwashed gym clothes in there." She wrinkled her nose. Beverly smirked.

"Well, I suppose I appreciate the gesture, Jaime from Math class."

"Always, Bev." She raced forward, eager to escape this building full of bustling teenagers. Looking back, she shot the other girl a smile. "I'll see you around!"

Once outside, she speed walked toward the sidewalk so she could begin her journey home. Home wasn't that far, but she wanted to get there before her older brother, Victor, did so she could lock herself in her safe room for the rest of the day. But as she made her way down the school steps, her eyes landed on an all too familiar sight. Her brother and his deadbeat friends bullying Bill, Eddie, Richie, and Stan. Swallowing hard, Jaime looked at her shoes. Her once best friends, being tormented by her own brother.

If she were to claim she didn't miss her four loser friends, that would be a blatant lie. All five of them were inseparable, back when it was acceptable for boys to play with girls and vice versa. Now that they were teenagers, adults automatically assumed there was some warped romance going on there. Jaime wished it was merely that that tore her away from them, but it was so much more.

Her brother joined Henry's gang when he was in sixth grade, therefore took it upon himself to torture the four boys, but Jaime was off limits. Her brother's love for her was hidden behind years of brainwash and a large ego, but it became evident if anyone were to ever lay a hand on her. Yet they bullied the fourth grade boys liberally. Like it was a hobby, a passion.

Finally, Richie had had enough. He exploded at her, screaming that she was the reason they had been a target for bullying. He poured cafeteria chocolate milk on her head and inside her backpack. That was the first time Jaime had witnessed Richie use swear words, though now she knew he tossed them around like normal words.

She had expected Stan, Bill, and Eddie to side with her, but they defended Richie with every bone in their body. She tore herself away from her best friends and became a stray dog, desperate to be noticed and cared for again.

She glanced up as she passed them. Her brother and his friends had just drove away, but the kids remained there, staring in disgust. Stan looked over and locked his eyes with hers, and suddenly his expression was soft. He acted as if he wanted to say something, but Jaime fled before he could. She could feel four pairs of eyes burning into her back as she raced down the sidewalk.

-

Early summer sun beating down on her back, the thirteen year old girl sped toward her home with determination. The air felt tense and stern around her, causing a pit of anxiety to form in her stomach. Maybe it was her fear of being trapped in her desolate home all summer, or maybe it was the fact that she knew a hasty note from her neglectful parents was awaiting her.

She crossed Central street, now just a block away from her home. The familiar hum of a car startled her to a stop. Henry.

"Oh, God. Oh no." She murmured under her breath before breaking out into a sprint. The car behind her seemed to notice her actions and speed up in front of her. Jaime cursed and pushed her legs to the extent of their power, her ribs burning. It still wasn't enough. Henry Bowers made it to her house just as she was approaching it.

"No." She panted, her stomach turning unpleasantly. One by one, four boys exited the vehicle. Her brother's bleached platinum hair stood out to her. It had once been the same soft shade of dark brown as his younger sister's, but his rebellious attitude changed it. He looked over at her and smirked.

"Coming, Jay?" He called over to her.

The other three boys turned their head to her. Belch Huggins, a taller and more intimidating member of the pack, just briefly glanced at her. Patrick shot her one of those creepy grins, but it was Henry who licked his lips and winked at her. Jaime felt sick to the stomach. She trudged over to her house, allowing the boys to pile inside before her.

Once inside, the boys crowded into the living room, Patrick beginning to rave on about some horror movie he rented. Luckily, they paid no mind to her as she slipped up the stairs and into her bedroom. Struggling to control her nerves, Jaime grabbed a chair from under her desk and tucked it under the doorknob. Heart racing, she sat on the edge of her plush bed. She couldn't stay in here forever. She'd have to go to the bathroom or to get food eventually. Her stomach growled at the thought of a snack.

Falling backward on her bed, she hoped tonight wouldn't be long.