summer camp.

DAY 3

with the cloud of anxiety about the competitions lingered over their heads, the losers had a slightly stressful day. they were getting better each minute at distracting themselves and calming each other down, however.

they had focused on getting together and playing a game, as they normally did back in derry. richie had brought the games, and was sent off to grab them and bring them to the building everyone was in.

at around 6:30 that afternoon, richie returned to his cabin to grab the games for him and his friends. as soon as he walked in, his eyes met 'the bowers gang's'.

"oh, shit, those losers are here," victor laughed. richie stared for another second before bolting out the door.

"i'll be back, boys," henry said maliciously, sprinting after richie.

richie ran around the large campus, panting hard and trying to get henry off his ass. they had just made it behind a building when henry tackled richie to the ground, making his yelp.

"g-GET OFF! GET. OFF!" richie yelled, smacking henry, who sat on him.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, FAGGOT!" henry screamed, punching richie in the face, who flinched and put his arms around his head to cover further hits.

henry tried to grab his arms off of his head, but couldn't, so instead he punched the shit out of his arms and slammed the back of his head on the ground.

"FUCKING STOP," richie yelled, punching henry in the nose, who held it and stared down at richie with thoughts of bloody work.

"wanna fucking repeat that, fag?"

"i'm not a fag! shut the hell up and GET OFF!"

"what the FUCK did you just do?!" henry screamed, punching richie in the face as he cursed, who yelped, trying to grab henry's arms away.

"STOP! FUCKING HELL, GET OFF OF ME!" richie screamed, loud. he hoped he was alarming people around.

"hey, asshole! piss off!" a kid yelled, coming around the corner and walking up to henry, who wouldn't stop punching richie.

"mason?!" richie screamed before being punched in the throat. mason kicked henry's head, causing him to fly to the side, nearly unconscious from the hit to his soft spot.

"come on," mason rushed, holding richie's hands and dragging the boy to his feet, whose legs were tired and sore from running. mason walked richie back to the cabin.

"thanks.." richie mumbled as they walked.

"yeah.. what the fuck is his problem anyway?"

"i don't even know. that asshole just doesn't like me. i didn't really do anything, all i do is retaliate."

"oh, but you have every right to?"

"i know, it's fucking stupid," uttered richie, mason nodding.

"here, let's go to the cabin—"

"no," richie demanded, and the two stopped.

"what?"

"his other asshole friends are all in there. i'd be fucking dead if i stepped foot into that room," richie said.

"oh.. well, do you wanna go to the bathroom in the game area and.. you know.. get all that blood off your face?"

richie chuckled. "yeah, sure."

"alright," said mason, and the two headed there.

soon enough, richie's wounds were patched and done bleeding, the blood on his face was wiped up, and the scrapes on his arms were healed as well.