Chapter Text
Dear Diary,
September 1st, 1989.
First day of senior year. Only one more year of suffering, and then we'll all be off to high school. I guess I'm excited to get it over with, but I'm really not looking forward to being eaten alive at the bottom of the food chain.
Veronica stumbled around in the hallway, eyes fixed on her diary. She heard a groan and that's when she looked up.
"Martha, oh, I'm so sorry!" She cried, dropping to the ground to help Martha pick up her things. "Hey, are you okay? I'm really sorry about that." She handed a folder and a notebook to Martha, who smiled at her.
"It's alright, Ronnie!" Martha said, chipperly, turning to place her things in her locker. "You know, you always apologize for everything," She pointed out.
Veronica knew this was true, it was on purpose. She was raised being told that everything was her fault and she needed to apologize for it. So even though that she logically knew that not everything was her fault, she still made the conscious decision to apologize for even the smallest mistakes. "Sorry... I mean, uh... I don't know."
Martha just nodded. Then came an exclamation from a voice that made Veronica want to tear her limbs off and hit someone with them. "Martha Dumptruck, wide load! Hahaha!" Kurt and Ram came up behind to slap her book out of her hands.
"Hey! Pick that up right now." Veronica said, stepping in between Martha and Ram. Goddammit, she was not going to let her best friend get hurt by two dicks for no reason whatsoever. Ram squints, kneels down to pick up the book, and promptly stands up to smack Veronica over the head with it. "Fuck you!" She says, just loud enough for Kurt and Ram to hear it, but not loud enough for the whole school to hear her curse. She slaps Ram across the face and knees Kurt in the groin before stomping on their toes, grabbing Martha's hand, and running off to class.
"That was awesome, Veronica!" Martha laughed, squeezing Veronica's hand as the pair slowed down. "You're an amazing friend, by the way. Nobody else would ever do something like that for me."
Veronica gave her a sad look for a moment, then headed into the classroom. She and Martha always sat next to each other, which meant Veronica was sitting behind a kid in a long, black, trench coat. Odd, but I'm never gonna judge anyone for wearing what they want.
"You excited for senior year?" She asked Martha, the teacher not having begun quite yet.
Martha shrugged just as the teacher walked in.
Veronica felt a hand on her shoulder as the was just entering the bathroom. She turned her head to see Heather Chandler. Demon Queen of Westerburg High. The Mythic Bitch. The Almighty. "Yeah?"
"You know, you standing up to Kurt and Ram was pretty kickass today." Veronica immediately felt a wave of anxiety walk over. Holy shit, THE Heathers are talking to me without slurring at me at all. Holy shit, this can't be happening.
"Um, thank you." She felt exposed, as if she was on display, like some attraction at a zoo. The way the Heathers were looking her up and down made her shift in her shoes, and she looked around nervously.
Chandler stood behind her, teasingly running her nails up and down Veronica's neck, sending chills down her spine. "Aw, look at her... so sweet." Chandler whispered.
The other two Heathers stepped closer to her. "It's a shame she's wearing such an ugly outfit." Heather... Uh, the yellow one, said. McNamara, right?
Duke spoke up. "She really could be so pretty," She did not appreciate that they were speaking about her as if she wasn't directly in front of her. "A little lipgloss, maybe?"
Chandler hummed. "Heather, lipstick, Heather, blazer and skirt. And Ronnie, strip." Her eyes widened to the size of silver dollars.
"Huh?" Heather rolled her eyes overdramatically and took Veronica's scarf from her neck.
She twirled it around her fingers. "Is this okay with you? Is it okay for me to take your clothes off you?" Veronica nodded, unable to say a word. "I'm a bitch, but I really do care about consent. But we're not doing anything sexual." Veronica couldn't help but smile. Chandler slipped her jacket off her shoulders and handed her a bright blue blazer instead. "Heather, brush her hair. She'll like it."
McNamara nods and she begins combing through Veronica's hair, who shivered. "Jeez, Veronica, touchstarved much?" She sighed shakily.
"Okay, don't tease her." Chandler scolds, pulling off Veronica's skirt. Duke hands her the new, much skimpier, skirt, which she steps into. "Welcome, Veronica. We'll see you at lunch." She grins, exiting the bathroom.
Veronica stares at herself in the mirror. What the fuck?