Chapter Text
If there was one thing Nicole hated more than waking up it was waking up before her alarm, forced into an accursed new day by the buzz of her phone. Given how late she passed out thanks to her lard-ass brother threatening children on his Xbox she elected to ignore it in favour of diet death’s embrace, at least until her actual alarm tore them apart. Apparently her stalker objected this relationship, the repeated rumbling of her phone wrenching a groan from her throat and cementing her return to reality.
As her eyes peeled open she was assaulted by sunlight, blinking several times before registering the glowing digits on her clock; nearly half an hour earlier than she’d set her alarm. She entertained the thought of throwing both it and her phone out the window followed by herself, but such a lame suicide wouldn’t even land her under the ‘Troubled Teens’ headline of USA Today, so instead she envisioned the satisfying crunch of her skull on concrete when smacking her alarm’s off switch. She wasn’t as quick on the draw with her phone, the next maddening rumble like a magnet for her palm, gripping the plastic hard enough to mimic the angry red lines marking her wrists.
She already knew who it was. Only one person had the audacity to text her this early. Didn’t make the wake-up call any less annoying.
Jecka : ran out of smokes, picking you up early
Jecka : be ready in 20
Jecka : hello???
Jecka : bitch are you alive
She certainly didn’t feel like it, but she never felt much of anything. Except in a rush, because she knew Jecka would make her nightmares feel like daydreams if she wasn’t ready by the time she got there.
Nicole didn’t bother replying before swiping the closest jeans and tank top available, sliding into a sweater so Jecka would stay irritated rather than sad—an irritated Jecka was easier to handle—and then trudging her way to the bathroom. She was met with heavy bags under her eyes and no motivation to conceal them, hoping her natural eye shadow would be enough for everyone to leave her the fuck alone today.
Everyone except Jecka, who allowed Nicole barely enough time to brush her teeth and tie up her hair before announcing her arrival with an unceremonious honk. This level of impatience might be a new record and Nicole was tempted to go back to bed just to see how pissed she’d get. But she also knew the front door was likely unlocked and Jecka wouldn’t hesitate stomping up the stairs and yanking her covers off. Either that or Jecka would abandon her. Like a fifty-fifty chance given the lack of nicotine in her system. Nicole wouldn’t blame her for the latter. The former might end with the neighbours dialing the cops, and a frightened Jecka was even worse than a sad Jecka, so Nicole was outside by the third honk.
Natural light wasn’t her friend, she didn’t even want it as an acquaintance, raising a hand and squinting against what speared through her fingers as she stumbled down the front steps. She refused to acknowledge Jecka’s leer even as she hauled herself in the passenger side with a slam of the door.
“What took—” Jecka’s vexation popped like the bubblegum in her mouth, a few slow, awkward chews filling the silence. “Rough night?”
That second try was softened with more sympathy than Nicole expected considering how fucking inconsiderate Jecka was of her sleep schedule. Nicole replied by matching the amber eyes accented with mascara and winged liner, burdened not by bags but by a concerned glint. That look was as regular as Jecka’s hairstyle but Nicole couldn’t help admiring it anyway, gaze surfing along the golden waves splashing down the smooth, tan skin of her shoulder blades. With each lazy flick she found more skin, Jecka’s shorts just long enough to pretend she wasn’t a whore, but she wasn’t exactly pretending with that backless top. She was as hot as always, and other than her pink acrylics reflecting the sunlight as they jittered against the steering wheel, Jecka seemed perfectly composed.
But Nicole knew better. Jecka only chewed gum when cigs weren’t available and needed to be available yesterday.
“You look like a dead girl walking,” Jecka noted, reversing from the driveway so hurriedly Nicole lurched forward with a startled grunt.
“Wish I was a dead girl period,” Nicole retorted dryly, pushing off the dashboard to thump her head on the headrest like the impact would cause a miraculous brain tumor. Unfortunately, suiting her luck today and all days, nothing more than an inevitable headache.
“I’m no genie so your wishes mean jack shit,” Jecka huffed, and after a moment she lightly slapped Nicole’s leg. “Put your seatbelt on, ho.”
The sharp annoyance failing to mask the worry ripped a derisive laugh from Nicole’s throat. “Oh, I’m so scared of cul-de-sac speed limits.”
“Speed limits become suggestions on main roads.” At a slightly bent stop sign came another warning slap. “Put it on.”
“Aw, you won’t even get into a fiery crash for me?” Nicole goaded, and despite the artificial honey seeping from her words she complied because the argument wasn’t worth it and would just be their first of many. After the click of the buckle Jecka finally accelerated and Nicole’s synthetic sweetness expired to raw bitterness. “Some friend you are.”
“Yeah, some friend I am.” Nicole didn’t see the eye roll accompanying Jecka’s flat tone but she sensed it. “Not like I drive you to school every day or anything. A thankless job, I might add.”
“You might shut the fuck up.”
“Maybe if you thank me for once in your life I’ll think about it.”
That was asking way too much, especially when Nicole never wanted to go to school anyway. She summarized that internal complaint with a disgruntled sigh, leaning her elbow on the door and resting her cheek on her fist. “Why are you such a bitch today?”
“Why are you?” Jecka snapped without missing a beat. “At least I have the excuse of running out of smokes.”
Nicole scoffed. “That’s your own fucking problem.”
“Uh, no, it’s yours too. You made me this way.”
“Oh, fuck off. You told me you started smoking in like eighth grade.”
“And how often do you think an eighth grader gets access to cigarettes?” Jecka threw a glare Nicole refused to catch. “Didn’t get addicted until I had to start dealing with your bullshit.”
Now that was a declaration she could twist to her advantage. “So in a roundabout way,” the corners of her mouth twitched into a lopsided smirk, “you’re addicted to me.”
Jecka’s prolonged, exasperated sigh was the sexiest sound Nicole heard all morning. “You would come to that conclusion.”
“Is it really so hard to believe?” Nicole asked without really asking, her free hand tugging passively at the loose threads embellishing the rips on her jeans. “Just by existing I got my mom addicted to wine and my dad addicted to death.”
In her mind such a shocking statement caused a record scratch from the radio, mushroom clouds framing the darkening sky while Jecka slammed on the brakes and caused a pileup devastating enough to inspire a new Final Destination. Instead, because life would only let her die of boredom apparently, the world kept on spinning just like it did when her dad blew his brains out, explosively gruesome images burned into her retinas that would never impact anyone else.
At least not permanently. Maybe Jecka’s driving wasn’t impacted, but her mood definitely was.
“Jesus Christ, Nicole,” was Jecka’s delayed response, a phrase synonymous with Jecka’s daily dismay, and sick pride swelled in Nicole’s chest at how promptly she summoned it. “How do you expect me to respond to that?”
“With the truth,” Nicole replied casually. “Aren’t I good enough to satisfy you?”
“Not if you don’t have cigarettes,” Jecka sneered, clearly not falling for her fake guilt trip. Nicole expected nothing less. Only guys who thought they could fix her with their microscopic dick would fall for such melodramatic garbage. “No fucking way will I survive school without one.”
“One,” Nicole parroted with a dry chuckle. “Like the pack won’t be half empty by the end of the day.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Yours?” Nicole turned for a clearer view of Jecka’s frown, the one she always wore when feeling personally victimized. “They’re your cigs.”
“You mooch off of me.”
“Why would I say no to free shit? That’s like the whole point of being hot.”
“They’re not free. I pay for them.”
“You could always just tell me to fuck off.”
Jecka glared at her. “How often has that worked?”
Each irritated word enhanced Nicole’s sly smile until she couldn’t stop a small laugh, one that morphed into a yawn midway through. “Touché, bitch,” she relented tiredly, tilting her head back onto her fist.
Jecka didn’t antagonize her further, silence occupied by the hushed radio and rumbling of the car. Nicole breathed in the faint mixture of Jecka’s vanilla perfume and marshmallow air freshener—or was it the other way around? They smelled the exact fucking same no matter what Jecka said. Either way it was relaxing, and combined with the blurs of buildings and trees she began zoning out. Normally that was a tactic she utilized to avoid boring conversations and useless lectures, but something about Jecka’s company, regardless of their disagreements, made her feel safe enough to rest her eyes. She couldn’t exactly sleep like this, but the idea of paying attention to anything beyond existing felt like too much right now.
It was only when she heard the ignition turn off that she opened her eyes again, revealing the faded two-for-one slushie ads plastered to the unwashed windows of 7-Eleven.
“God, you really do look tired,” Jecka mused, voice softer than the last time she spoke. “Did you sleep at all?”
Nicole took a moment to accept still being both awake and alive before training Jecka with a dull stare. “I would’ve gotten half an hour more if not for you.”
Jecka rolled her eyes. “Half an hour wouldn’t prevent those bags.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Pretty sure I do.”
“Pretty sure you’re full of shit.”
“Calm down, grumpy,” Jecka mumbled while unbuckling her seatbelt, reaching into the backseat to plop her purse on her lap. “You’ll nap in class either way.”
“What if I wanted to nap in bed, huh? Ever thought of that?”
Jecka looked unimpressed by her prodding. “You set an alarm.”
“I would’ve hit snooze.”
“If you were actually planning to skip school you wouldn’t have set an alarm at all.”
Nicole clicked her tongue. “Well don’t you have me all figured out.”
This bitch had the nerve to look all proud of herself, her carefree shrug outmatched by her pretentious grin, like she accomplished something no one else could. “Spending nearly every day with someone will do that.”
True, they did spend nearly every day together, as Jecka was the only person Nicole could tolerate longer than five minutes. But just because Jecka knew more than everyone else didn’t mean she knew everything. Nicole only gave away what she was willing to give away; specific details to help manipulate whoever fell into her snare, Jecka included—even though she often saw the snares coming. Anything else was just Jecka bullshitting.
Obviously.
“Does your Nicole knowledge bank tell you how to make me less tired?” Nicole taunted gruffly, shuffling towards Jecka as much as her seatbelt allowed. “Here’s a clue,” her fingertips tapped on the shift lever, “reverse into oncoming traffic and—”
Words didn’t matter all of a sudden.
Not with Jecka’s lips on hers.
She didn’t see Jecka close the gap and soon didn’t care to see anything at all, eyes fluttering closed at the warmth she familiarized with Jecka’s presence.
It was mortifying how quickly Nicole melted against her—just like the first time, last time, every time, her body in stasis until Jecka made the whole world disappear. The stress in her shoulders dissolved as Jecka’s hands trailed up her neck, thumbs caressing her cheekbones with slow strokes and acrylics scratching the underside of her jaw. Tingles travelled down her spine, nestled in her bones, weightless under Jecka’s gravitational force.
A shower of drowsiness made it difficult to even return the kiss, lost in the fuzzy dreamland of Jecka’s affection. In the back of her mind she faintly registered that Jecka’s usual smoky flavour was reduced to an aftertaste, replaced by the sticky sweetness of bubblegum. Bubblegum became her new favourite flavour, wanted to fall asleep with it pillowed on her tongue, and at some point her lips must have parted to mirror her hunger.
So when she no longer tasted bubblegum she couldn’t comprehend why. Jecka’s hands still thawed her skin and her aroma was still fresh in her nose so she had to still be there, but for some reason she wasn’t kissing her anymore. Did she forget she was supposed to be kissing her? Maybe she’d remember if Nicole waited long enough.
She wasn’t sure how long she actually waited, time ceased as a concept forever ago, but it was long enough for Jecka to release a breathy giggle. With colossal effort Nicole opened her eyes, blurry vision flooded with liquid gold.
“I knew it,” Jecka whispered, so close but so distant, her eyes twinkling like stars.
Nothing emerged when Nicole tried to reply, too distracted by the frosting sprinkled on her lips. “What?” she eventually croaked, swallowed by the vacuum of space.
Jecka grinned mischievously, pressing a nail to Nicole’s cheek. “You’re blushing.”
That nail became a serrated blade, slicing through the haze in her brain until her body seized up with a cold dose of reality. The numbness was as short-lived as she wished her life was, nerves jolting awake with strikes of lightning. Her heart erupted in her chest like a volcano, each thump against her ribs making her more and more aware of what just happened, what was currently happening, and that Jecka planned on this happening all along.
Because she had her all figured out.
“No, I’m not,” Nicole grumbled pathetically, like some loser who had no idea how to defend herself. What ounce of this virgin behaviour could possibly be defended? If she wasn’t still ensnared by Jecka’s gaze she’d smash her face through the windshield; hide red with red.
Jecka’s grin came teasingly closer, their noses brushing. “You totally are,” she cooed.
“Fuck off,” Nicole spat, shoving Jecka away, the burn in her cheeks intensifying with Jecka’s cackles. “Go buy your fucking smokes so I can steal them.”
Jecka’s laughter subsided into an unsurprised sigh. “One day I’ll get that thank you.”
“And one day I’ll die.” Nicole squirmed out of her seatbelt. “We’ll see which comes first.”
Normally Nicole would’ve dozed off in the car while Jecka restocked her addiction. Not like this was a thieving attempt where one of them distracted the cashier by pretending to care about their failing marriage or abusive parents or anything. Even if it was Jecka needed practice stealing solo, and Nicole deserved some extra winks for being dragged out to this wasteland so early.
Now she couldn’t scurry out the door fast enough, that kiss like a shot of adrenaline. Sparks and sugar swam through her veins, intensified by Jecka’s lingering smugness before she strutted towards the entrance, the subtle swing of her hips ensuring Nicole followed. It was endlessly frustrating how Jecka’s closeness turned her into a bitch with feelings, and no matter how hard she tried to push those feelings away she couldn’t resist the pull to be close to her once more, yanked forward by the candied noose fastened around her neck. She steadied her breathing as best she could, knowing it would loosen once this embarrassing moment passed. It wasn’t like she always fantasized about kissing Jecka or how soon Jecka would kiss her again—
She yelped when Jecka suddenly stopped, barely avoiding bumping into her by pivoting past her shoulder. Nicole hurled a glare she hoped was a fraction as menacing as usual. “Bitch, don’t just stop—”
“Is that Veronica?”
The strange question caught Nicole off guard, her irritation cracking apart to reveal the confusion underneath. She copied Jecka’s gaze, peering through the smeared 7-Eleven windows to see an unfamiliar brunette in a blue blazer browsing the aisles. “Who?”
Jecka gaped at her. “What do you mean, ‘who?’”
“Not sure how to make that question any clearer.”
“Veronica Sawyer?” Jecka emphasized, like that name was supposed to ring a bell. “Heather number four?”
“You literally just said her name is Veronica.”
Jecka’s shocked expression warped into an amusing mixture of disappointment and disbelief—a look Nicole received from many people many times before, but she knew from Jecka it was genuine emotion rather than a mask for malice. “Does this ignorance come from barely going to school or just not giving a shit?”
Nicole shrugged, shoving her hands in her sweater pockets. “Take your pick.”
Jecka squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why do I even bother?”
“Cause I’m hot,” was Nicole’s automatic reply, nothing egotistical energizing her tone. Fishing for compliments was fun but so was stating the obvious. Facts were facts, after all.
“Yeah, there’s that,” Jecka sighed, her defeated gaze turning less so the longer she roamed Nicole’s figure. Her unabashed attention made Nicole feel even hotter, like she regained some of the control Jecka swiped so easily. But unlike men about to join a watchlist Jecka never forgot who she was ogling, never forgot what Nicole was capable of, and soon fixed her with a stern, expectant leer, like an arrogant teacher prepared to punish her for a wrong answer to a pointless question. “You at least know who the Heathers are, right?”
Pointless question, right on cue.
“Like I had a choice with everyone deepthroating their heels,” Nicole hissed, rolling her eyes. She’d been through several schools and nearly all of them had a similar popular girls clique, flaunting metaphorical crowns everyone would either pay to polish or risk everything to abolish. The whole hierarchy concept was so fucking stupid. Like, sure, Nicole enjoyed putting some nerds in their place, they deserved it for dressing like they still breastfed, but who cared about high school that much? What did they think those crowns would be worth after graduation?
Though, as absurd as she thought the Heathers were—how egotistical did you have to be to form a group where everyone had the same name—she didn’t really give a shit about them. But she did give a shit when people were annoying, and everyone at their school was so fucking annoying.
“Just last week I saw Jeffery drawing them with cat ears,” Nicole said.
Jecka shivered in disgust, shaking her arms as if to dispose of that information like dirt, but she should be thankful she was spared from seeing it. “No woman is safe,” she grumbled.
“The only pussy he’ll ever get.”
A huff of agreement. “I’m assuming they don’t know about it.”
“How the fuck should I know? Not like they’re gonna post Jeffery’s disgusting ass fetishes on MySpace.”
“You follow their MySpaces?” Jecka’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “Didn’t expect that from you.”
“I creep them as much as I creep everyone else.” Nicole shrugged. “It’s blackmail central.”
At least, it was for most people desperate for validation. Angles specifically crafted so their face was the last thing stalkers cared about, greyscale filters enhanced with emo song lyrics, half empty Starbucks cups because being a sheeple was more important than having standards; cries for help from people with no real problems, like they would carve their suicide note into their arms if no one told them they looked cute in their bargain bin outfit or that they had great taste in music when it was mediocre at best. Some were even dumb enough to post photos of themselves drinking.
Unfortunately, the Heathers weren’t that dumb. The lack of scandalous content proved they knew exactly what people like Nicole were hunting for and wouldn’t even let them aim. They were doubtlessly skilled at scoping out the most pivotal photos, loading their snipers with silver bullets, and shooting people dead, the smoking barrel a constant reminder they were eagles, not rabbits. No matter how hard Nicole searched for photos of them snorting coke or giving blowjobs to university predators, even maliciously uploaded on other people’s pages, all she found were them posing in ludicrously expensive dresses and jewelry, deep quotes from old novels they definitely haven’t read, and filtered pictures of croquet sets.
Each waste of time always led her back to Jecka’s profile, the banquet of gold like a palate cleanser from rust and plastic. Her gallery was simple but pretty, also too smart to risk anything beyond the occasional concert photo, Nicole’s brain turning off whenever she viewed Jecka’s outfits and makeup styles. Of course she could do that in person as much as she wanted, but Jecka couldn’t be with her all the time—and those times, like when she ran out of antidepressants, were often when she needed her most. Admiring photos of Jecka didn’t have quite the same effect, obviously. But enough to calm her down.
Jecka didn’t need to know this.
“Like they’d ever post anything that detrimental,” Jecka said, the lilt in her voice a major reason why photos were only a backup. Nicole didn’t respond right away, still returning from her musings, but Jecka regarded her blank stare as disbelief and crossed her arms. “Pics with their tits half out aren’t detrimental.”
True, but that didn’t negate the more important truth. “Slutty, though,” Nicole stated once she found her voice again.
“They are sluts, Nicole, but they can get away with it because they’re invincible.”
“No one’s invincible,” she replied without missing a beat. “Everyone’s armour has a chink.”
That confidence was born from being a master manipulator. Glowering at a different mirror each weekend and not recognizing yourself, following your friends onto a tiny boat even though you can’t swim, getting yelled at so frequently you can’t speak without suffocating; everyone had something. And it was always big fun finding out what.
Jecka raised an eyebrow, tossing a quick glance to Nicole’s covered wrists. “Even yours?”
Nicole buried her hands deeper in her pockets. “We’re not talking about me.”
“Subtle.” Jecka looked worried for only a second before resuming her slightly peeved expression. “Really don’t think you’re grasping just how untouchable the Heathers are, though. It’s more a ranking than a name,” she gestured to the mystery girl taking her sweet time deciding on a snack, “one Veronica somehow achieved at the beginning of the year.” Her hand attached to her hip, acrylics clacking on her belt. “No idea how she managed that.”
It wasn’t meant to be funny, but how absolutely bewildered Jecka sounded over something so insignificant snagged a harsh snicker from Nicole’s throat. “What, you jealous or something?”
“I’m not jealous, stupid,” Jecka spat, like Nicole was insane for even suggesting it. “Just catching you up since I actually pay attention and I’ve known these people all my life.”
“My bad for having a dead dad and a whore mom who makes me move every couple of months, I guess.”
Jecka stared at her, unamused, clearly more prepared for that type of comment than she’d been on the drive there. “Way to pull the traumatic childhood card.”
“If it gets me what I want.”
“And what do you want?”
Nicole nodded at the window. “To know why that girl has you on edge.”
“Has nothing to do with Veronica and more that you had no idea who she was.” Nicole gave a noncommittal shrug—she only cared to learn about people when she wanted to mess with them—receiving the exact type of sigh she expected. “She’s cool, actually.”
“Didn’t realize you were friends with Veronica Heather.”
“Wouldn’t say we’re friends, exactly.” Jecka paused to blow a small bubble that achieved nothing, tugging back her failed experiment and popping it mutely in her mouth. “We smoke together sometimes,” she added, tone lighter than before. “She got me out of class once, too.”
That was the most interesting this conversation’s been so far. “How?”
“She’s extremely talented at forgeries. Like, could fool the cops talented. Hall passes, permission slips, absence notes, you name it. She noticed how miserable I was one time when we were smoking and wrote me a freebie.”
Oh, the audacity of this bitch.
Nicole swiftly gripped Jecka’s shoulders, like if she didn’t ground herself to reality she wouldn’t believe what she was about to say. “First you wake me up at an ungodly hour and now you’re telling me you’ve kept this get out of jail free card to yourself?” She shook her, maybe a little too violently but this was terminal cancer level unfair. “You’re officially the worst friend of all time.”
“Dramatic much?” Jecka brushed off Nicole’s hands. “I know you, Nicole. You’d take advantage of her.”
“And you don’t?”
“Fuck no,” Jecka sneered, syllables spraying like acid. “I don’t need the Heathers breathing down my neck.” Her annoyance was glazed with anxiety, like she was actually afraid of them. But Jecka was too much of a pussy to even cook crack, so the merit of her fear was hard to measure. “Besides, smoking with her keeps the weirdos from approaching me when all I want is peace and quiet. I’d like to keep it that way.” Jecka frowned sternly, a familiar sight, but this passionate display wasn’t. “Which means you’re not going to bring up her forgeries at all.”
Nicole smirked. “You know I’m gonna.”
“No, you’re not.” Jecka stepped right into her personal space, their two inch height difference suddenly feeling much bigger. The amber pools consuming her vision were both molten and frigid, submerging any possibility of escape. “Not unless you wanna walk to school and be single once you get there.”
Her smirk fell.
That… what? Jecka had to be joking. She didn’t sound like she was joking, but there’s no way she’d dump her over something this stupid.
Right?
Like, c’mon, getting to skip even more school without Bitch Lynn snitching to her mom would be awesome. And she knew Jecka would enjoy that freedom from her parents, too. Even though Jecka still had some morals and plans for after graduation, Nicole knew she hated attending classes taught by pedophiles and filled with future gas station attendants as much as her. Was using puppy eyes on Veronica every now and then really so bad?
Nicole wouldn’t care even if it was, and maybe Jecka wouldn’t either if the Heathers weren’t involved.
She didn’t understand why Jecka was so scared of them. They were just girls who took colour coordination way too seriously. Queen bees under the school’s roof, maybe, but mere ants like everyone else in the real world. If this was a challenge on who could be meaner Nicole knew she could win, even Jecka could win on her feistiest days, they just didn’t command the same influence. And with the entire student population to keep under control, surely Veronica handing out a few extra forgeries would be the least of their problems. Even if they made it a problem Nicole would deal with it, like she dealt with every shitty thing life handed to her before.
She wanted to say so, wanted to say Jecka was overthinking this like she did every minor inconvenience, but the threat of Jecka never kissing her again stilled her tongue, the remnants of sweetness turning sour. She remembered the last time they had a near friendship ending fight, her heart beating louder and faster as Jecka’s voice got quieter and slower, and the thought of another made her stomach churn. Who would drive her to school then? She was not about to take the bus just because her only ride was pissed at her.
But Jecka wouldn’t be pissed at her if she backed down, and now that Nicole had something to lose she also had to learn how to lose arguments gracefully.
“Jesus, okay, chill. Don’t give yourself an aneurysm.”
Okay, maybe not gracefully.
Jecka rolled her eyes, finally letting Nicole break the surface of the ocean. “You’re enough of one already.”
After hovering outside the building like the homeless guy sleeping behind the dumpster would later they finally crossed the threshold of pale sunlight into vivid fluorescents, immediately met with the signature hum of slushie machines and grease of hot dog rollers that always made Nicole temporarily forget which state she was in. The chime of the door caught Veronica’s attention from the other side of the store, and she offered Jecka a casual wave which was returned.
“Sweet, the Indian guy’s working,” Jecka murmured, adjusting her shirt and fluffing out her hair. “I always gotta chat him up for a bit but I’ll get what I want.” Nicole gave an agreeable grunt, still feeling like she was treading water, but any worries of drowning evaporated when Jecka rubbed her arm, giving her a playful push towards the aisles. “Entertain yourself.”
Normally that would be a little tricky, outside of planning what to steal—and with her craving for candy that was already sorted. The only tricky thing this time around was remembering any gossip she’d heard in passing about the Heathers that could work as a solid icebreaker, since badgering Veronica about her forgeries was off limits. Fuck, what a waste, but maybe acknowledging her existence didn’t have to be if this conversation proved fruitful. Eventually she did think of something, though she couldn’t recall which surname matched which Heather, so their eyesore colours would have to do.
Approaching Veronica from behind Nicole asked, “Is it true the green one has implants?”
A startled gasp burst from Veronica’s lips, the bounce of her shoulder-length brown curls revealing a surprising amount of glinting ear piercings as she jerked to face Nicole. A moment later she relaxed, chuckling as the question registered. “As charming as Jecka said you’d be,” she remarked, timbre low and pleasant like notes from a cello.
But Nicole was more entranced by her lyrics. “She thinks I’m charming?”
“Among other things.” Veronica’s easy smile reached her kind blue eyes, seeming way too genuine given her fabled clique. “Nice to meet you, Nicole.” She held out a hand for a handshake. “I’m Veronica.”
Nicole stared blankly at the offering. “Seems she talks more about me than you. Only learned who you were five minutes ago.”
Veronica’s eyebrows lifted—in surprise, not offense. She didn’t look offended at being left hanging either, like this wasn’t the first time. “That’s kinda refreshing, honestly.”
“What? Jecka actually keeping her mouth shut?”
Veronica’s smile turned wistful. “Being unknown again.”
Anonymity was an addicting source of tranquility—what Nicole wouldn’t give for everyone other than Jecka to leave her the fuck alone—but she had a feeling that wasn’t quite what Veronica was referring to. “Not loving the popularity of being the Heathers fourth?”
What regurgitated from Veronica’s throat was some amalgamation of an awkward laugh and a cough, coughing again into her shoulder to compose herself. “There’s a lot I love about it,” she said after, too tenderly to be an excuse. “I almost look forward to school now. Instead of being scary each day is… exciting, I guess? They all…” Veronica spaced out for a moment, biting her broadening smile. “The protection is nice.” Her gentle expression swirled into a grimace. “Kinda preferred the football team knocking my lunch tray from my hands than trying to knock me up, though.”
Even though most of that mess was confusing, the last sentence wasn’t. “Yeah, they’re all rapists,” Nicole stated, as casually as one would state the weather. Her bluntness about men, specifically the failed abortions that contaminated their school, often garnered two types of reactions: adamant denial or resigned agreement. Given what Veronica just said, Nicole expected the latter.
Instead, Veronica transformed into a caricature more befitting her title, all softness sharpened into barely contained rage capable of setting this worthless town ablaze. “Self-defence classes come in handy,” she droned with a tight, unsettling smile, night and day difference from before. “Who would’ve guessed?”
Every girl had some sort of sexual assault story but Nicole certainly wouldn’t have guessed this uncanny bitch put some asshole in his place. Maybe multiple. Hopefully multiple. Fuck, Nicole wanted to ask, because what better time to share date rape stories than early morning at 7-Eleven where countless probably occurred in the bathroom, but Veronica’s leer was eerily similar in intensity to Jecka’s, reminding her how upset Jecka would be if she did something to upset Veronica, and recounting trauma would probably make someone more upset than requesting an absence note.
“The one thing Jecka did tell me was she thinks you’re cool,” Nicole said, deciding a backhanded compliment was safe enough. “Thought she was talking out her ass until just now.”
Sure enough, the typhoon in her eyes regressed to mild rain, the tiny, flattered smile suiting her face much better. “Smoking makes anyone look cooler than they are,” Veronica said. “I’ve just seen the worst our school has to offer—then became a part of it.” She shrugged. “Each requires survival skills.”
“I’m not working hard enough if I don’t count among the worst yet.”
Amusement flickered in Veronica’s eyes. “Jecka never told me you wanna be a Heather.”
That absurdity replayed in her head at least three times, and only when blended with the unsought image of herself sporting Veronica’s blue blazer did a shocked response soar off her tongue. “What?”
“I can put in a good word for you if you want.”
“Uh, no. I’ll find my own way to the cemetery.”
Nicole forgot who she was talking to for a second, suicide jokes her natural response to pretty much everything, but Veronica didn’t jump at the chance to mock her depression or encourage her suicide like many in her privileged position probably would. Not that Nicole would give a shit if she tried, but the fact that she didn’t, her proud, goofy grin at her own joke not even faltering, made Nicole frown thoughtfully. “You’re not like them, are you? How’d you handle going from one end of the food chain to the other?”
“Not well,” Veronica chuckled, that revelation clearly only funny since enough time had passed. “The first few weeks of Heather-dom were a struggle. Had no idea what I was getting myself into. If I’d even last. Now I’m… now things are better.” Veronica didn’t bother biting her lip this time, letting her widening smile soften her next words, “They’re good.”
That vaguely answered her question, but how weirdly sappy this was turning made Nicole want to erase this whole interaction and circle back to the one she opened with. “Good enough to learn about the implants?”
Confusion flashed on Veronica’s face before she huffed a small laugh. “It’s not exactly a secret.”
“No, no, it is, because why are they still so small?” Nicole asked. “Why fork over that much cash for something barely noticeable?”
Veronica snorted. “Like guys wouldn’t pay millions to get one inch added to their dick.”
Damn, it was like she plucked that thought right from her brain. “You’re not wrong.”
“Besides, she’s pretty short. Would look a little unbalanced if she suddenly had double Ds.”
“Misogynistic much?” Nicole berated, like she didn’t slut-shame girls on MySpace every night no matter their cup size. “Short girls can have double Ds.”
“Sure, but she’s beautiful the way she is.”
“Did you think that before the implants, too?”
“I wasn’t friends with her before the implants.” Oh, the cunning retort trapped under Nicole’s tongue was just begging to be set free, but sadly Veronica beat her to it, “No, her implants aren’t why I’m friends with her now.”
“Are they hard as rocks?” Rule number infinity of being a bitch: always be ready to counterattack. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t a fight; Nicole would win either way. “I’ve always wondered this. Not about her specifically, I don’t give a shit. Just like, in general.”
“I mean, probably when they were healing, yeah.” Veronica shrugged. “Now they’re as soft as anyone else’s.”
Well, now she kinda gave a shit. “Copped a feel yourself?”
“Notice how my hands are still attached?” Veronica chuckled, the silver ring on her right pinky gleaming as she swiveled her wrists. “There are rare occasions she deems me worthy of a hug. Usually when she’s plastered.” Veronica paused, searching Nicole’s face for something, and whatever she found must’ve been satisfactory as she still looked plenty amused. “You always this nosy?”
“Dunno how you’ve been hanging with Jecka if you can’t handle this level of nosy.”
“I’m best friends with Heather Chandler,” Veronica stated, laughing until her mouth had no room for anything but the reverence accompanying that name, the sheer sense of awe spilling from her lips leaving no doubt she was referring to both the head bitch in charge and someone who changed her life. “Trust me,” Veronica continued, taking what sounded like a needed breath, “I can handle nosy.”
As if mentioning Chandler reminded Veronica what she was doing before Nicole showed up, she glanced over the myriad of candy surrounding her before clicking her tongue and shuffling towards the next aisle. Nicole followed, having nothing better to do while Jecka was still thrusting her chest at the cashier. Taking advantage of that, she snagged a bag of skittles and stuffed them in her pocket. Veronica noticed, raising an intrigued brow, but didn’t comment—good; Nicole’s neutral to above-average opinion of her would’ve shattered otherwise—before focusing once more on her scavenger hunt.
“What are you looking for?” Nicole asked, more to fill the silence than with any desire to help.
“BQ corn nuts,” Veronica replied distractedly.
Nicole paused. “BQ?”
“Barbeque, yeah. Struggling to find them, though, as you can probably tell.” Veronica’s face illuminated when she finally found a display of corn nuts, but dimmed shortly after approaching. “She never makes things easy for me,” she sighed with a small smile, fingers flicking amongst the packages of ranch and chile picante.
“Who the fuck calls barbeque BQ?” Nicole asked—which, in her opinion, was the much bigger issue here. “Why not just say barbeque?”
“An extra syllable is too much time for Heather to waste.” Veronica chuckled fondly, head dipping as she scanned lower. “Oh, thank god,” she exhaled with relief, bending over to snatch the single bag of barbeque from the bottom row, pressing it triumphantly over her heart like she’d won a medal. “If I settled for plain she’d probably crucify me.”
“That as kinky as it sounds?”
“She’s the Demon Queen for a reason.”
“Which Heather is this?”
“Are you seri—” Veronica cut herself off at the blank look on Nicole’s face, seeming to just realize but not entirely comprehend that Nicole wasn’t indoctrinated like the rest of the school. There weren’t many perks to being the new kid, but this was definitely one of them. “Wow, you are,” Veronica murmured, so bewildered she bordered on impressed. “Um. The red one.”
“Okay,” was Nicole’s flat reply, holding Veronica’s baffled gaze until Veronica shook herself out of it and persisted down the aisles. Apparently the BQ—fuck, it did save a syllable—corn nuts weren’t her only goal, her arm shooting out as if at random to acquire two more things, and the laxness of it all made it seem like these items were inconsequential in comparison. “Don’t gotta be specific with those?”
“Only Heather is that picky about her candy,” Veronica remarked. She held up one of her newer finds, a bag of mint chocolates. “Heather likes mint.” Her other hand presented the second find, a bag of cola gummies. “Heather likes gummies.” She flapped both of them for emphasis before piling them together with the corn nuts. “Simple.”
There was nothing simple about what she just said. “Wait, which—the same Heather?”
“No, different Heathers.”
“Different from each other or different from the first Heather?”
“Both.”
“Bo—aren’t there three Heathers?”
“Both as in Heather and Heather instead of Heather.”
“Heather… and Heather… instead of…”
“Heather, you got it.”
Nicole took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m too tired for this.”
“You’re too tired for everything.”
Nicole’s heart skipped a beat—from shock and nothing else—at the sudden drawl of Jecka’s voice caressing her ear. She slung a scowl over her shoulder, earning a pointed, mocking tongue a little too close to her face that she wanted even closer, crushing the skittles in her pocket with her craving for sugar. Because of present company she swallowed nothing but tasteless saliva, but with the eager rattle of camel crush in Jecka’s hand she’d get to taste something sweet soon enough.
Thank Christ. If she was forced to come all this way just for Jecka to get denied cigarettes there’d be one less 7-Eleven on the map. And, honestly, most of that destruction would’ve come from Jecka. If she was already this annoying after a night with no nicotine, she would’ve been the most intolerable bitch on the planet by lunch.
“Quite the variety there, Veronica,” Jecka said, nodding to her collection of candy. “Got the munchies?”
“Nah, these ain’t for me. Just some treats for Heather, Heather and Heather.”
“Stop doing that,” Nicole groaned. “How do you not get them mixed up?”
Veronica tucked the candy under her arm to empty her hands, cheekily saying, “Survival skills,” while firing dual finger guns, concluding the dorky display with an exaggerated wink. With every passing minute it was harder for Nicole to believe that Veronica’s popularity was legit and not some lengthy practical joke. She just oozed vibes of someone who’d get accidentally pushed into a pool, which somehow was worse than getting pushed on purpose.
“They forced you to buy them shit at ass o’clock in the morning and you’re not even getting something for yourself?” Jecka questioned, apparently ignoring the ridiculousness they just witnessed. She had a talent for that.
Veronica shrugged. “They don’t know I’m here.”
“Wait, what?” Jecka’s eyes widened with surprise. “So they didn’t force you?”
“No?” Veronica laughed. “I’m not their servant.”
Nicole wasn’t familiar enough with the intricacies of the Heathers to know if that statement was revolutionary or not, and despite Jecka’s Wikipedia pages on every student in their grade maybe she wasn’t either given the puzzlement still painting her face. “So you’re buying them things… just because you want to?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“It is when I’m besties with this one,” Jecka mumbled, bumping Nicole’s shoulder with her own.
“Do I look like a bitch with money?” Nicole snapped.
“You look like a bitch who could follow Veronica’s example.”
“Get some glasses, nerd.”
“This isn’t completely selfless,” Veronica said, lifting a mediating hand between them, like she had experience interrupting and preventing catty fights. “If anything, the whole school will owe me a favour. If the Heathers are placated with treats they’re way less likely to cause trouble.” Then she stage whispered with a sly smile, “Don’t tell them I said that.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jecka replied, stepping towards the exit as Veronica went to pay.
“I would if I was sleeping,” Nicole said, shadowing Jecka. “Oh, wait!”
Jecka’s scowl was very pretty, her lip gloss catching the light. “I don’t need to share these cigs, you know.”
“Now who could follow her example?”
The close-up acrylic on her middle finger was pretty too, Nicole chuckling under her breath as she shoved Jecka’s hand away. Her fingers twitched at the brief contact, overwhelmed and frustrated by the sudden need to feel Jecka’s interlocked with hers; by how Jecka probably knew but made no indication that she knew so Nicole was stranded being a needy bitch in silence. With Veronica already thanking the cashier in the background there was no time for anything but pathetic yearning, and then the three of them were out of the lawless land of 7-Eleven and back to the quiet crumbling of civilization. The sun seemed less harsh now, the air more crisp, but Nicole missed the warmth of her bed as much as Jecka’s skin.
“Well, I’ll probably see you later, Jecka,” Veronica said, nodding to the purchased cigs Jecka was already opening. “Nice meeting you, Nicole.”
“I’m sure it was.”
Veronica started walking off but not in the direction of any parked car, and when Jecka realized that too she called out, “Wait, where’re you going?”
Veronica spun around, walking backwards. “Same place as you, I’m assuming,” she called back, slowing her pace. “Unless you’re skipping.”
“You’re walking to school?”
“Yeah?” Veronica pointed at the clear sky. “It’s nice out.”
It’s never nice enough to—
“It’s never nice enough to walk,” Jecka spoke Nicole’s thoughts aloud. Well, damn. For all their petty squabbles, at the end of the day she and Jecka were on the same wavelength. “C’mon, I’ll drive you,” Jecka added casually, fishing her keys from her purse.
“Oh.” Veronica’s shoes skidded on the asphalt with her sudden stop. “Um.” She glanced nervously between them, Jecka’s car, and the plastic bag in her hand before saying, “That’s okay. I’ll manage.”
That was a very odd response given how friendly Veronica had been so far. Like, Nicole would understand her hesitance if Jecka was a guy—getting a ride from some dude at a 7-Eleven parking lot was just asking to have your partially cannibalized body sloppily buried in the woods—but she and Jecka got along. She liked Jecka enough to forge something for her. What was the problem here?
Unless Veronica secretly couldn’t stand her and just faked being friendly this whole time. As fucking hilarious as that would be, she didn’t seem capable of that kind of cruelty.
“We’re literally going to the same place,” Jecka said, sounding just as confused. “Unless you’re the one skipping. If you’re going somewhere nearby I really don’t mind.”
“No, it’s not that.” Veronica peeked down to the bag she idly swung like a pendulum. “It’s just…”
“We’re not kidnapping you if that’s what you’re worried about,” Nicole commented flatly. “I’m one minute away from passing out and Jecka’s too chicken shit to do anything more extreme than snorting mystery pills.”
Jecka tossed her a glare. “Tell the whole world I’m a crackhead, why don’t you?”
“You’re the one who smokes seventeen packs a day through every hole of your body. People will draw their own conclusions.”
“You wanna draw one for how this convo will end?”
“If we were alone I’d probably make a decent guess.” Nicole gestured at Veronica. “Her little crisis is throwing me off.”
“Sorry,” Veronica muttered sheepishly, grinding the toe of her shoe against the ground.
Jecka sighed. “I’m not on drugs right now, if that helps.”
Nicole scoffed. “You tell me to shut up about the drug thing just to say ‘right now’?”
“Missed the memo where honesty was a crime.”
“Oh, you didn’t hear? The crime’s called being an absolute dumbass.” Nicole frowned, shaking her head. “Hello? Weren’t you the one nagging me about how threatening the Heathers are?” She waved dismissively in Veronica’s direction. “Why double down on an easily spreadable rumour right in front of one?”
“I’m the last person who’s gonna spread rumours about anyone,” Veronica intercepted firmly, and from anyone else that claim would’ve been bigger bullshit than the school board promising to support suicidal teens, but each word was fortified with the reassurance that she’d been one of those rumours, seen how they shattered even the strongest of wills, and she wouldn’t continue the cycle of violence. “Don’t let my status fool you.”
But that status was important, wasn’t it? Maybe not outside of high school, but within those walls was the illusion of eternity. Those at the bottom had to survive off the scraps of mercy from those at the top, and mercy was in short supply. After all, the cost of being good was being boring, and who the fuck would worship someone boring?
And despite Veronica possibly beating the shit out of attempted rapists—Nicole still wanted to know more about that—she wasn’t entirely a good person, was she? No amount of compliments and pleasantries could convince Nicole otherwise. Why would a virgin white princess need to know how to forge handwriting? Sure, sounded like she used it to help people sometimes, but how often had she used it for personal gain? How many people did she trample to become a Heather? Even if she was nothing like them, refused to partake in their war crimes, she still benefitted from their armour. That privilege wasn’t awarded for free, and certainly not to someone with nothing to gain. How badly did she hate everything and everyone to weasel her way into the clique everyone feared?
How badly did the Heathers change her?
“How often does it fool you?”
Nicole wasn’t sure what that question was meant to accomplish. She wasn’t even sure it was a question; rather a disguise meant to trick, betray, break people down, because that’s the type of person Nicole was. She ruined lives, ruined friendships, ruined people’s perceptions of themselves, and sometimes it wasn’t even on purpose. This didn’t feel on purpose. Merely a result of her instinctual behaviour, and her instincts didn’t care about Veronica.
They evolved enough to care about Jecka, though, entirely without her consent. Jecka always had her acting in stupid ways. And maybe because Jecka was loosely involved with Veronica did Nicole ask something so sensitive; something that could potentially end that involvement, depending on Veronica’s backbone. Because Nicole didn’t really give a shit about her actual answer. She’d probably never talk to Veronica again after today, especially with her forgeries inaccessible, so if her life fell apart it wasn’t her problem. She just wouldn’t let Jecka fall with her. Jecka was already killing herself slowly with cigarettes, and that was a much cooler way to die.
Veronica didn’t respond for awhile. For so long Nicole wasn’t sure she’d respond at all. She chewed on her lip, toyed with the striped cuffs of her blazer, abandoned them in the parking lot to revisit the memories that shaped her existence. And then, softly, on the horizon between two worlds,
“Every day.”
There was no guilt in it. No shame. If there ever was, it was overtaken by a sense of wonder. For what exactly Nicole couldn’t say, but one thing was obvious enough.
The Heathers definitely changed her. She knew they changed her. But maybe that change wasn’t bad. Maybe, in some unfathomable way, she was a better person than she was before.
Nicole dared a subtle glance at Jecka, nearly collapsing at the golden glow of her hair billowing around her like a robe, and suddenly it was fathomable.
“Uh, look,” Jecka began, spitting her demolished gum onto the road. “I love an existential crisis as much as the next girl, but if I don’t get smoke in my lungs in the next five minutes I might convince the first guy that walks past us to kill his mom for me.” Jecka dangled her keys at Veronica. “Do you want the ride or not?”
The curtness in Jecka’s tone shook Nicole from her stupor, and without giving Veronica the chance to reply Nicole fixed Jecka with a mildly amused stare. “You’re the most impatient bitch I’ve ever known.”
Jecka’s stare was less amused. “I’m the only bitch you’ve cared to know period.”
“You sound like you’re having your period.”
“One kick and you’ll have yours.”
“Don’t stop at just one.”
“You know what I should stop? Driving you to school every day.”
Nicole smirked. “We both know you won’t.”
Jecka’s glare was the only reward her assholery needed but Veronica’s giggles sweetened the pot, and when Nicole looked she noticed Veronica watching them with a big, warm smile, like this was a familiar sight she’d never tire of.
“Alright, alright,” Veronica relented through remnants of laughter. “Consider my heartstrings officially tugged.” Veronica walked back over to them, each step synchronized with the swing of her cunt care package. “I’ll take the ride. Thanks.”
“Finally,” Jecka sighed, more annoyed than relieved, unlocking her car doors. “I’m too nice for my own good,” she muttered under her breath.
Nicole sidled over to Veronica, drawing a curious glance. “If there’s any candy in the backseat, don’t eat it,” she advised impishly, smirking at Jecka’s instant warning frown. “It’s probably laced with opium.”
That earned a bark of laughter from someone who meant little to her and a shout from the one who meant everything, sounds she’d have missed if she stayed in bed, and maybe being here to hear both was worth another day awake.