Chapter Text
September 1st, 1989
Dear diary,
Being at the bottom of the food chain doesn't feel any better as a senior. Oh yes, high school has changed many of us. This year has brought some nostalgic memories from what feels like forever ago. Before. When things were simple and nice and people weren't such assholes. I-
Veronica jumped as the first bell rang.
I packed up my diary with the blue pen I had been using, and placed them into my grubby green messenger bag. I stood and started up the stairs, praying that I would be able to get up them without being harassed by some jock. Just as I crested the crowded steps, I felt my text book leave my hands. A smack echoed through the stairwell.
When I bent down to pick up the book, someone stopped me. I looked up and saw Ram Sweeney sneering at me with a satisfied glint in his eyes. Ram, third year as linebacker, eight year of smacking shit outta people's hands and being a huge dick. Despite thinking of the myriad of ways to punch Ram, I pushed down that anger and just rolled my eyes, trying to move away from him. He was too busy gloating to notice my departure. I was used to this. I could handle this for one more year. At least, that's what I'd keep telling myself.
Just as I made it to my locker, I see Them. It was the Heathers. They floated down the hallway in a way only they could. The crowd around them split as their heels clicked in unison. Despite myself, I became entranced by the ethereal group as they came closer to me.
There were three people in the Heathers.
First, there was the cheerleader, Heather McNamara. She is Loaded (that's right, with a capital "L"). Her dad owns a well renowned jewelry shop. She rocked a plaid yellow blazer showing a two shades of yellow and black accents. This was paired this with a simple, yet elegant pleated black skirt. Her golden locks, heart shaped face and large brown eyes pinned her as a stunning example of classic American beauty.
Then there was Heather Duke, who as far as I know, has no discernible personality, but her mom did pay for her implants. Her rich emerald green blazer with silver buttons stood out the most about her apparel. She has strong brown hair with red undertones that are highlighted by the green of her jacket. Her dark eyes hold a dangerous glint to them that say, "fuck with me and regret it."
And last but not least, there was Her. Heather Chandler. She rose above the rest. She wore her legendary blood-like blazer which stood contrasted by her grey plaid skirt. With this outfit, she made her presence known to the entire student population. Her shining blonde hair came down as lightly curled waves and her goddess-like face was paired with a set of ocean blue eyes. Despite her angelic features, her countenance held a certain malice to it that gave me good reason to understand how she had come up to the top of the food chain at Westerburg. In short, Heather Chandler was...a mythic bitch.
I caught myself gawking at the Heathers. When the trio had made it far enough down the hallway, everyone unfroze and the whispers about their new outfits began. Shaken out of a trance of my own, I closed my locker and continued to class. Everything seemed to be normal until lunch time came around.
In the lunch line, I found my best friend since, well, diapers. Martha Dunnstock. She was dressed in one of her favorite purple sweaters with a unicorn on the front. As far as I know, she's the only one who could pull it off so well. When Martha turned around, her round face held a bright smile.
"Hey Veronica!" She exclaimed.
"Oh, hey Martha." I replied. Still annoyed from my earlier encounter with Ram.
"Are we still on for movie night?" She asked, a concerned look crossing her features.
I backpedaled, she didn't need to worry about me."Of course! You're in charge of popcorn. What movie did you rent?"
"You don't know? The Princess Bride, of course!" She stated this like I should have this down already.
"Haven't you seen that like, a million times?" I asked, a smile beginning to creep onto my face.
"Well, I am a sucker for happy end-"
Smack.
Ram had stuck again. No, wait. This time the smacking had come from none other than Kurt Kelly. He's the smartest guy in the football team. Which, is like being the tallest dwarf. This was the last straw, I lost all patience to try and grin and bear it like I had the past three years. I was so angry, I did something unimaginable.
"HEY!" I yelled, making Kurt jump and lose his composure for a second. Only a second though. He wheeled on me.
"I'm sorry, are you talking to me?" He drew himself up to his full height, like he was about to square up. I gulped.
"Yes. Pick that up, right now." I glared back at him. Trying to keep my tone even and voice firm. He just scoffed.
"You heard what I said. What makes you think you can pick on my friend like that?!" I was teeming, about to boil from my own anger. I felt my cheeks begin to redden.
"You're friends with Dumptruck over there?" Kurt asked, making it seem like I must be the most unlucky person in the world to be stuck with Martha. This make me angrier.
"Did you not hear me dumb ass?!" I was reeling. "You're just a high school 'has been' waiting to happen." I grinned, satisfied by my quick thinking.
I almost lost my gusto when Kurt walked closer. He peered down at my face. I saw his mouth twitch as he said,
"Is that a zit there on your forehead?" I blanched, taking a step back. With that movement, I lost. The entire student body broke out laughing.
Having lost my appetite and pride, I handed my lunch to Martha and bolted out of the cafeteria. I headed to the nearest bathroom and scrambled to the last stall. I sat there for a few moments, feeling sorry for my entire existence. Tears streaming down my eyes. Whatever anger that had pushed me to such painful measures was now gone and been replaced with self-pity. I hated that.
After pulling myself together some, I began concocting one of my forged hall passes to get out of my next period. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. I decided that I would just sit here, on a gross toilet, until I could gather enough courage to face the rest of the day.
Just as I had calmed down enough to start writing in my diary, I heard the distinct click-clacking of the the lipstick gestapo themselves. I began praying that they wouldn't make their way into the bathroom. But that was futile. The clicking stopped momentarily and the door swung open. I braced for impact and pulled my legs up so that I wouldn't be seen by them.
I held my breath. Just then, I saw Heather Duke's distinct green jacket move to one of the stalls. Soon after, I heard the sound of someone retching into porcelain. I tried not to gag.
"Grow up Heather, bulimia is so '87." Stated the queen bee herself.
"Maybe you should go see a doctor, Heather." A normally bubbly voice stated. Concern evident in her tone as yellow fabric shifted uncomfortably.
"Yeah, Heather, maybe I should." Said Heather Duke in a tired voice.
Suddenly, another pair of heels sounded as they marched down the hall. The Heathers became quiet and everyone in the bathroom was silent. The door opened with an accompanying sigh.
"Ah, Heather and Heather." Duke gagged. "And Heather." Stated Ms. Fleming. Loathing evident in her voice.
At that moment, I got an idea. I quickly added the names of each of the Heathers onto the hall pass and prepared to make my move. I didn't have to wait long.
"Well, I suppose you didn't hear the bell ringing over the sound of puking. You are all late without a hall pass. A week's detention for all of you." Ms. Fleming said, seemingly satisfied with her punishment. This was my que. I burst out of the stall with my forged pass in hand.
"Actually Ms. Fleming, we do have a hall pass. It's for yearbook committee." I stated confidently, I knew my forgeries would hold up to this blind bat's eyesight.
The aging woman squinted at the paper and shook her head. "Looks good enough to me, now hurry up and get to class." The Heathers and I nodded in unison. Ms. Fleming turned around and left the bathroom.
When her loud heels had almost completely faded, the Heathers turned on me. I gulped down the lump in my throat. Trying to breathe before speaking. Heather Chandler stepped forward. Any hope I had of catching my breath left me as she got closer. I nearly fainted when she grabbed my hand and picked the forged pass from my fingers. She really was as intimidating as I had imagined. She wasn't always like this though. Not before.
She held me there as she appraised the note.
"This is an excellent forgery." Stated Chandler in her signature bitchy tone as I tried to hold eye contact. I couldn't bear the searing blue eyes as they gazed into mine.
I tried to step back and looked away. Heather however, held onto my hand firmly. I began to panic.
"What do you want, whatever your name is?"
Said Chandler, sounding both curious and bored at the same time. I somehow managed a breath.
"M-my name is Veronica Sa-Sawyer. I cr-crave a boon." I not to much as said, but stuttered out. Heather smirked and I lost my voice yet again. Her voice was filled with mischief as she asked,
"What boon?" My eyes instinctually shot up to hers. It held intrigue and playfulness.
I looked away from her eyes and tried to focus on the white collar of her shirt, a stark contrast to her red blazer. I asked my price for the forgery.
"Um, let me sit at your table during lunch. Ju-just once. No talking necessary. If they think you guys tolerate me, thentheywillleavemealone." My voice became faster as I saw how Heather's smile grew, making me nervous. I heard Heather Duke laugh as Chandler looked back to the other girls. Just as she was about to open her mouth, I continued.
"I can also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes." At this I willed myself to look Heather in the eye. Her ocean blue globes had narrowed at my sudden burst of vocal clarity and she pulled me even closer.
"How about prescriptions?" Sounded Heather Duke. At this Chandler snapped her head back to yell,
"Shut up, Heather!" I shuddered at her tone. And the reply of, "Sorry, Heather." Made me cringe.
Then, the heat was back on me. I could smell Heathers intoxicating perfume as she peered down at me. The heels giving her a few inches on me. I looked up in hope and fear. I thought, God, she must love this power she has on people. She's got to be some kind of narcissistic mani-
Her hand shot from my hand to my face and I lost all train of thought. Her fingers tilted my chin up and all around as her gaze began to really take in my face. I closed my eyes, willing my heart rate to calm down. I couldn't look weak, not now. After what felt like an eternity, Heather began to speak.
"For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure." Chandler noted in a very direct manner. Yet, there was something about her tone that threw me off.
"Also, your face is symmetrical, that's good." Said McNamara. She was smiling genuinely. Out of the three Heathers, I liked her the most. Chandler nodded her head, her gaze never leaving my face. It was oppressing.
"Darling, I hope you know what you've signed up for. Come on girls, you too Ver-oni-ca. We're going to make you beautiful." Chandler stepped back from me and I was able to breathe freely again. They moved together toward the door. I trailed behind them as we left the school, Chandler's sweet perfume burning itself into my memory.