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The novelty of discovery wore off when she woke up Monday morning. After rolling over and curling into herself to get a few more seconds of sleep, Veronica rubbed her eyes and reached for her phone, opening up the thread she started with the Heathers the night before in accordance to her Rules. And she chuckled to herself as the perfect good morning text came to mind.
Morning, Momzillas!
Immediately, a message with Heather Chandler’s name came up, and she chuckled even more.
Literally woke up and chose violence did u
And then she added,
Pick u up in say 20?
No it’s okay! I carpool
with Betty and Martha
I’ll meet you at school
Thank you though
Suit urself
As she got up and dressed for the day, Heathers McNamara and Duke chimed into their conversation, with Heather Duke praising her for remembering her manners, and Heather McNamara just popping in with a cute gif of Pinkie Pie.
Her breakfast consisted of a few creampuffs Mom had gotten from the local bakery, her usual coffee, and scrolling through social media. Dad was pretty much doing the same thing across the table, but with the newspaper. And before she knew it, she was sitting out on the front steps again, only this time waiting for Betty to pick her up, with her backpack on her back and her diary in her lap. Her regular diary. Her plain, old, regular diary with a blank black cover, spine, and back.
Maybe her littlespace diary could have stickers or something on it, on both covers. There were stickers for everything. If she wanted to make it cohesive and stick to a theme, how was she going to decide that? Or should she just stick on whatever she felt like at the time?
And maybe she could write in pen to spice things up. Maybe blue gel pens, and coloring the borders with highlighter—or just numbering the pages. And she could play a lot looser with it, since there was no law or rule that said diaries had to be dull. The older she got, the more she got into the habit of writing to deal and blow off steam instead of writing for fun. Writing just to write. And her first entry would have to detail what happened at the sleepover at Heather Chandler’s place. That was where it all started. Well, kind of. Technically it all started at the seniors-only wing at school, but her personal journey started at Heather’s house.
Or maybe she could turn it into a storybook. Assign anthropomorphic animal characters to represent people and document her story that way. Or fairytale elements—fairies and dragons and unicorns and that stuff. That’ll give the Heathers something to chew on if she had to read an entry. She’d drop them in a chapter of a story and they wouldn’t even know it.
Brushing her hand over the cover of her diary, Veronica grinned. The possibilities were endless, and she was very excited.
At 7:25, Betty’s car pulled up into the driveway, and without shouting her goodbyes to her parents, Veronica hopped up off the steps and made her way to the door behind the driver’s seat, just as she always did. Martha was usually sitting up front anyway, but not today.
“I made you a friendship bracelet, Veronica!” said Martha as soon as she opened the door.
“Aw, thanks, Martha, but you didn’t have to,” Veronica laughed as she sat down, setting her backpack on the floor in front of her, pulled the door closed, and buckled in. “Morning, Betty.”
Betty smiled at her in the rearview mirror as she put the car in reverse. “Good morning, Ronnie. Did you sleep okay?”
“No worse than usual.”
The car began to move, and Veronica stuffed her diary into the largest pocket of her backpack before surrendering her wrist to Martha, who was reaching for her with a grabby hand. Despite this, her grip was gentle, and she slid a small crochet bracelet onto her wrist, one made with variegated yarn of varying shades of blue. It fit perfectly.
Veronica laughed. “Thanks, Martha. But how many of these things have we made and lost over the years?”
“This one’s special,” Martha said, “On the outside it looks like a regular friendship bracelet but on the inside there’s a patch underneath with the littlespace pride symbol on it.”
“Oh!” said Veronica, withdrawing her hand to look at it more closely. All she saw were single crochets all around, but she could feel a small circle of felt on the underside of her wrist. She looked at Martha again. “Thanks.”
Smiling, Martha nodded. “It’s very discreet. When you feel more comfortable, I’ll make you another one with the symbol on top like mine, see?” She offered her wrist. Her bracelet was more or less the same but in a more vibrant shade of pink, and the pastel colors with the heart on it on the outside. It matched her pink unicorn sweater, sweatpants, and her red glasses.
Veronica’s smile grew wider. “Sure thing, Marty. I’d love that.” She brushed her fingers over her own, feeling the smoothness of the yarn. “And I’ll take extra special care of this one.”
When they got to Westerburg, they headed for their first period with Mr. Reid, who taught, in Veronica’s staunch opinion, the most boring subject known to man: history. His door was open, but luckily, he wasn’t at his desk. If there was a chance they had a sub, maybe they’d watch a film and she could plan more about her littlespace diary. It was all she could think about. Before she entered the classroom though, Veronica looked about the halls for the Heathers. She said she’d meet them at school, after all, and here she was. So where were they?
Wait.
As they settled into their seats, with Betty and Martha taking a table and Veronica slipped into a desk, all in the front row, she pulled out her phone.
I’m at school.
“Texting the Heathers?” Betty asked, leaning toward her.
“Yeah,” Veronica answered absently, setting her phone on the table and sighing. She raked her hand through her hair, pushing it back. “Rules. You know.”
Betty smiled kindly. “Yeah. Good job, by the way. You’re taking to your new role really well.”
“Better than Saturday,” Martha added with a giggle, and Veronica hid her face in her hands.
“God,” she groaned, “That was a mess.” She peeked between her fingers before running her hands down her face and slapping them onto the surface of her desk with another groan. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad it happened, but never again. If I’m gonna brat, it’s because I feel like it, not because I think they think I’m one. I can do that without being labeled, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” Betty said at the same time Martha chimed in with “Of course!”
Veronica sighed again as her phone lit up with a message from Heather Duke. “Good.”
Are you already in Reid’s room?
Yeah
Coming
“You’re totally allowed bratty moments,” said Martha afterwards, “As long as you respect the boundaries you and the Heathers agreed on, you should be okay.”
“But if you need reassurance, you can always talk to them about it,” Betty added. “From what you’ve told us, they’re way more reasonable than they let on.” After a thoughtful pause, she added, “If they were like that all the time, this school would be a better place.”
Someone knocked against the open door of the classroom. It was Heather Duke. When they locked eyes, she jerked her head toward the left, and Veronica shoved her phone in her pocket and got up.
“Be right back,” she said as she followed Heather out.
“You’ve got seven minutes before the warning bell!” Betty called after her.
“Hey, where are we going?”
“You’ll see!”
When they were out of sight of the classroom, Heather Duke grabbed her wrist and they took off down the hall and around the corner. They met up at Heather McNamara’s locker, which was open, where the other Heathers were already waiting. Heather Chandler stood in front of the locker door, and Heather McNamara was very nearly hidden behind it.
They slowed down before they reached them, allowing them both to double over and catch their breath, and when she was all good to go, Veronica straightened. “What’s up?”
Heather Chandler stepped back, and Heather McNamara popped out from behind her locker door holding a plush llama in her hands. It had a long neck, triangle ears, a smiling white muzzle, beady black eyes, and pale blue fur that puffed up all around its body except its feet, making it look extra fluffy.
“Surpriiiise~!” she sang.
The muzzle of the llama—or was it an alpaca?—booped Veronica’s chest and she stepped back slightly, hands curling into gentle fists as she brought them to her chest. When she didn’t take it, Heather withdrew her arms, lowering the toy a bit, and smiled sheepishly.
“I know you said surprise gifts that were bought were maybes, but we thought maybe you’d make an exception for your very first stuffie?” Her sheepish smile turned coy, and she batted her lashes. “This little one told me they’re very excited to meet you!”
Veronica swallowed. Her eyes darted from Heather to Heather, each of them smiling and waiting for her to take the gift. At Heather Chandler’s nod, she did, touching Heather McNamara’s warm fingers as she held the plush by its middle and looked at its face. It continued to smile at her, and it was so incredibly soft. And super cute. Way too cute for this place.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but thank you,” she said softly, breaking into a shy grin when she saw Heather McNamara was almost vibrating with excitement. “It’s adorable.”
“If you need a reason,” said Heather Chandler, “Heather thought you’d like a friend when we’re not around. If you’re stressed, afraid, unable to text us—” she gestured to the plush. “Comfort.”
“Whatcha gonna name it?” asked Heather McNamara. If she had a tail, it’d be wagging out of control.
Veronica blinked. “Um, I don’t know yet.” She looked at the smiling face again before looking to Heather Duke. “Is this a llama or an alpaca?”
“It’s an arpakasso,” said Heather simply, stifling a chuckle when Veronica continued to stare at her. “It’s an alpaca, Veronica. Llamas have longer ears. Remember, we watched The Emperor’s New Groove in kindergarten? Kuzco turned into a llama. That thing was ugly.”
Welp, there went Kuzco.
“I’ll think about it,” Veronica said, gently hugging the toy to her chest and resting her cheek against the back of its head. She couldn’t help smiling at how soft it was. “It’s so soft!” And with a little giggle, she rubbed it against her cheek. “Thank you, Mama.”
Heather McNamara squealed. “You’re so cute, I can’t! Hold on, let me get a few pictures!” She reached into her locker and pulled out her phone. “It’ll be really quick and then we’ll walk you to class, okay?”
Veronica bit her lip. “You’re not going to post them anywhere, are you?”
“Nope! These are just for us.”
After a few poses, they walked back to Mr. Reid’s classroom. Heather Chandler stopped off at her locker as well, which, coincidentally, was across the hall between Mr. Reid’s and Ms. Fleming’s classrooms, while Heathers McNamara and Duke followed Veronica inside, though they mostly kept to the door.
Betty and Martha mouthed their “Awws” when they saw her new toy, and Veronica smiled shyly. She sat back down at her seat and set the little plush on its feet directly on top of her desk, facing the SMART board like it was all ready for some learning. She waved to the Heathers, and Heather McNamara, at least, waved back. Heather Duke was busy looking around the room, but she managed a little nod.
And then Heather Chandler came in. She had two baby bottles, one in each hand, and both were capped. One had a blue collar, and the other a red one, and she gently set them on either side of the plushie, sandwiching it in. Then, leaning over with one hand on the desk, she reached the other and tilted Veronica’s chin upward with cool, slender fingers. When their eyes met, Heather smiled.
“Two bottles a day,” she said in almost a whisper. “I know you can do it.”
Veronica froze. Her eyes flickered to the baby bottles before meeting Heather’s gaze again. She could feel the blood literally surging up her cheeks. “Seriously? Like this?”
Heather’s face softened, and she offered something of a smile. “Like so. That’s a girl, Sawyer. Don’t forget to bring them with you when lunchtime comes around, okay?”
The bell rang as Heather straightened herself, and with a subtle nod, she and the other Heathers said their goodbyes, Heather McNamara throwing in a saccharine “Be good, Veronica!” before sauntering out the door. Soon as they were out of sight, Veronica hastily unzipped the second-largest pocket of her backpack, grabbed the bottles, and shoved them in. The classroom was starting to fill up. Even Mr. Reid was settling behind his desk beside the SMART board. She tried to push her plushie in there too, but it didn’t go in as smoothly as the bottles, so she put it in her lap as she grabbed her notebook and pencil. She held her head as she stared down at the green cover of her notebook.
“If it helps—”
Veronica jumped; she completely forgot Betty and Martha were even there. But they were, and they saw the whole thing. Christ.
“If it helps,” began Martha again, “the teachers don’t really mind if you have stuffies or bottles as long as you’re paying attention to the lesson.” And she reached down and took out her own baby bottle from the side of her backpack: the one she’s had for the longest time. It had lots of little hearts, a pink collar, a long teat, and it was filled to the brim with rich, creamy milk. She put it in the middle of the table she shared with Betty, toeing the line between their spaces. “And as long as it’s not anything alcoholic, you can have water, milk, or even juice.”
“Don’t worry, Ronnie,” said Betty, reaching over to offer Veronica’s arm a comforting squeeze, “Baby bottles are just as common as water bottles. No one’s going to make fun of you or anything. Half the senior class has no room.”
Still. That didn’t mean she was ready to be so open with it.
So to make herself feel better, she spent the whole hour between taking notes thinking about her littlespace diary. She jotted down bullet points for her story if she was going that route, and even doodled cover ideas in the margins of her notebook paper. And she wrote down, in her regular diary, a very appropriate proverb for her situation:
You can bring an alpaca to water, but you can’t make it drink.