Henry Bowers

The murmur of the hallway mingles with the sound of footsteps and lockers closing. Henry is with his gang, leaning against the lockers, talking aimlessly… until he hears something different.

A language it doesn't recognize.

Sofia walks beside her best friend, Lourdes Chiapello—"Luli" to her—a little taller, with slightly darker skin, dark brown hair, and brown eyes attentive to everything. The two seem out of place… but not lost.

Sofia rolls her eyes and murmurs under her breath:

— I don't know why they made us come here, I honestly would have preferred to stay in Córdoba. They're all probably complete idiots at this school.

Henry barely frowns. He doesn't understand a word. But he recognizes the tone.

He leans towards one of the Bowers Gang boys while still looking at her.

— What did he say?

— I have no idea… but she's the new one. The Argentinian one.

— He arrived today. His father has money or something. You know how this town is… everyone talks.

— And look at her —adds another, lowering his voice—. She doesn't go unnoticed.

Henry is looking at her more closely now. Blonde. Distant. As if Derry weren't good enough for her.

He barely clenches his jaw.

— Argentina… —he repeats, testing the word as if it were a challenge.

When Sofia turns her head slightly, their eyes almost meet.

And for the first time since she arrived, someone in that hallway isn't looking at her out of curiosity…

He's looking at her as if she's a challenge.