Chapter Text
Heather Kimberly Chandler was glowing today. She was beaming with pride and skipping with joy. Why? Heather has turned psycho trench coat kid into a passable fuck.
Do not be mistaken, no other human on this earth could accomplish this (Especially that poser Duke, no matter what she might claim). He still wears the lame ass coat, but Heather Duke has trimmed the hem so it would reach his knees rather than ankles. A massive improvement that was hard fought for.
Heather has shown him the wonders of hair gel and concealer (seriously his eye bags were so dark it looked like he smudged eyeshadow underneath his eyes for the aesthetic. In fact, Heather was rather surprised when this wasn’t the case.).
They haven’t been able to talk to him down from the earring yet but the actual jewelry piece (If you could call it that) has been replaced by a much simpler silver stud. Most of the time. JD occasionally relapsed and went back to the gold hoop. But usually the silver stud. For the time being. There is no way Heather is letting him keep the piercing for much longer.
That all being said Heather spoke to Heather and Heather yesterday and they all agreed it was time for the next phase: To get him a girlfriend or boyfriend.
After a deep discussion, all Heather’s agreed it should be a short-term thing, a week or two at the most, to show he was dateable. Anyone would do. It was after that JD and the blank space that would occupy the week broke up that the Heather’s would worry about finding a more suitable partner for him. And by suitable Heather means rich and popular.
Maybe Courtney Stevens? She was a total bitch but worth considering. Her little friend, Amanda or Ashley or whatever might be better for the cause. She was so desperate for the spotlight she’d probably fuck Heather M despite being straighter than an arrow.
All three Heather swung around to their table in the caf. They all sat down, prim and proper.
JD was already sitting at the table. He was typing on his phone. Heather could not fathom who in hell he could be texting. Heather, Heather & Heather were his literal only friends. Heather decided she didn’t want to know.
“OK My Chemical Romance, Today we have decided it’s time to get you into the world of friend or fuck. Girl or Guy, pick your poison.” Heather barked at him. He glanced up from his phone before snorting and turning his attention back to scrolling. Heather grit her teeth. The Stupid Fuck. Today was not the day to test her.
Heather was prepared to bitch his punk ass out before Heather Mac cleared her throat. Heather frowned. If Heather M wanted to waste her time trying to be ‘nice’ to Jason Dick, it was her funeral. Heather gestured for Heather Mac to go ahead and try. Heather M beamed, and she leaned to look over JD’s shoulder.
She watched him scroll through his phone before taking her's out and sending a message in the Heather’s only group chat.
MacAttack: Omg he’s on Instagram
RedBitch: He doesn’t have an Instagram. He refused to get an Instagram. He said social media ‘churns out slaves and blanks’ and is for ‘the unwashed masses’.
MacAttack: He does now
Green-N-Mean: What’s he looking at?!
Heather M peered over JD’s shoulder again.
MacAttack: It’s a girl. We gotta angel
Green-N-Mean: Did you mean angle
RedBitch: Shut up Heather
“Sooo, sweetheart, is their some you like?” Heather M cooed in his ear. Heather rolled her eyes. Subtle, Heather.
JD looked up from his phone. He had a small smile on. “Maybe”
This intrigued Heather. Just what kinda girl got the attention of a human catastrophe like JD?
“Who?” Heather D demanded.
“I don’t know her name yet,” JD admitted. That got a smile out of Heather.
“Slutty, nice, is she in the caf? Point her out.” Heather ordered. JD didn’t move.
“Wait, how do you not know her name? Aren’t you Instagram stalking her?” Heather D asked.
“Trying too,” JD responded. Heather refused to remain ignored any longer by Jason Fucking Dean.
“Are you deaf from all your pretentious screamo? Point her out Dean.” Heather demanded.
JD scowled at her and pointed towards Martha Dunnstock’s table.
That’s more like it.
Wait.
He is pointing toward Martha Dunnstock’s table.
Heather had two reactions: Her internalized and externalized.
Martha Dunnstock? When did JD ever talk to Martha Dunnstock? Heather thought. Internally.
“Oh, my fucking god you are not into Martha Dumptruck.” is what Heather snarled out loud. Externally.
“No, I’m not. I have nothing against her either, to be clear, because I’m not a petty bitch like some people who’s, to give you a hint name starts with H.” JD stated, not looking away from Dunnstock’s table.
“Eat my entire ass, Dean. Is it Dump Trucks ambiguously fuckable and ethnic friend?” Heather drawled. She took a glance at the girl in question. She had dorky glasses and was overall frumpy looking. She would serve her purpose but someone with more status was preferable.
“No. Not her. The girl in blue, next to her. She’s a total goddess.” JD said. He got this dreamy look on his face that made Heather want to punch him between his eyes.
All the Heather’s looked at the remove girl in blue. She was pale, with dark hair in a total suburban mom haircut, and a blue sweater dress that did nothing to flatter her likely chubby figure. And she was short. Probably really short.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Duke deadpanned.
“Hey Duke, do me a favor and staple all your fingers together all right?” JD snapped.
“Jason Christian Dean I have never been so disappointed in you. And that’s fucking saying something, you wear a trench coat unironically. Just, Why? I don’t understand why. She’s not even that cute. She’s kinda fat” Heather D ranted. Heather nodded slightly. That was true.
“And your voice kinda makes me want to kill myself” JD shot back. Heather snorted. Also true. Heather shook her self out of her amusement and reminded herself that now was the time to drag JD. Not Heather D.
“I took you into my house. I gave you attention and gently prodded you into success-” Heather began.
“You told me to wash my bullshit down with bleach-” Jason interrupted.
“And you repay me by wanting to fuck Martha Dump Trucks no named best friend. Who is not fuckable in any way shape or form.” Heather finished. Well, that wasn’t 100% true. If Miss Dump Trucks friend did something different with her hair, wore a different outfit and just... tried something different in the face area, she could be pretty. Heather might even consider fucking her. That doesn’t matter. What matters is that JD was probably making this up to fuck with Heather. Her cold eyes scanned JD’s face for any sign for him lying.
“First, Slut, she reads Baudelaire, Ok? And secondly, it’s true love bitch.” JD sneered at Heather. Heather was not impressed.
“I swear to god, you could have even fucked one of us if you really put your mind to it, but nooo. Instead, you pull this bullshit. It makes me want to puke.” Heather D growled. Heather wrinkled her nose at that. While it was true Heather once upon a dream considered having sex with JD, she soon came to her senses when she found out how fucked in the head he was. Heather was sure Heather D still wanted to fuck Dean, but that was a problem for another day.
“I’m sure you took care of that need before lunch, no help from me need, skank.” JD snapped. Heather smirked at that. Oh, how she loved Duke and Dean’s little verbal spars.
“She has good bone structure. And a symmetrical face.” Heather M piped up. JD’s angry expression turned bright.
“I know right?!” JD gushed.
Gushed. Heather’s eyebrow twitched.
“JD. You will explain yourself now. Begin.” Heather commanded.
She has never regretted something as badly as she regretted uttering that sentence.
JD went on for fucking ever. He was spewing all this flowery bullshit about how ‘She was all that was right about this broken world’ and ‘she had a soul’ and is ‘perfection in the flesh’.
He would not shut the fuck up.
“JD I swear to god if you don’t stop I am going to kill myself” Heather groaned. She looked at the clock and they had two minutes left of lunch. JD has been babbling about this loser for a twenty minutes.
“Yeah Ok Heather, and she smells like really good, like vanilla or cinnamon or something-”
“Get therapy.” Heather snapped.
“JD. My buddy. My guy. You do not know this girls name. Can you maybe chill for two seconds?” Heather M pleaded. She looked as if she was about to lose her shit. If Heather M was about to lose her shit, you know you need to shut the fuck up.
“I have probably been in classes with this girl since kindergarten and yet have no recollection of her existence. She’s not even her own person, she’s just Martha Dumptruck’s no named friend. What does that say about her?” Heather demanded. She was totally exasperated. Today was supposed to be a win. Another success in the ‘Make JD Beautiful’ project. But of course, Red Dawn just had to fuck it up. Just like he did with everything else in his sad, sad life.
JD rolled his dark eyes. “You couldn’t recognize your own grandmother at the mall. What does that say about you?” JD asked.
Heather grit her teeth. “That was one fucking time, and we all agreed to forget about that-”
“We’ll see what we can do! Don’t worry sweetheart, we won’t let you down!” Heather M chirped.
JD raised an eyebrow. “You already have.”
“JD, I swear to god, don’t fucking underestimate us, ok? I’ve known this girl for, um, er, a while! Yeah, while, dicklord! I can get your ungrateful ass an in, you piece of shit trash. Got it?” Heather D huffed. Heather cringed. Heather D was shit at lying on the go.
“You’ve known her a while? Really? Yeah, sure, Duke. Lunch is over and I’m done here, I’m done with all of you, goodbye and don’t call me” JD snarked and hopped up to throw away his tray.
“Do you actually know something about this chickie?” Heather M asked.
“Shut up Heather.” Heather snapped. She was going home, and she was getting drunk. Very drunk. She’d need to be drunk for this bullshit.