Chapter Text
Mac sat down gently at the table, Duke next to her. Heather was opposite them both, and Veronica? Nowhere to be found. Heather poked at her cafeteria food with a disgusted look on her face, nose scrunched and brows creased.
“How was your weekend, Heather?” she asked.
“The date was shit and I had a hangover on Saturday. Blame Sawyer,” Heather crossed her arms.
Mac nodded. So, she did have a good time with Veronica, then. ‘ Did you get drunk with Veronica? ’ she signed discreetly towards Heather.
‘ None of your business ,’ Heather signed back.
‘ So, you did ,” Mac let out a giggle.
“I feel left out,” Duke sniffed, “You know I can see you signing to each other. Something about Veronica probably. I know what Veronica’s name looks like in sign language now.”
“Shut up, Heather,” Heather hissed.
Duke’s eyes dropped to the floor, “Sorry, Heather.”
“Anyway, do you- do you know where Veronica is?” Mac touched Duke on her shoulder gently.
Duke shivered slightly at the touch, but answered, “She’s with Mar- Dumptruck and the losers. Betty Finn and that JD guy.”
Heather growled, “I don’t trust him. He’s weird.”
“I think he’s nice,” Mac said, “He’s friends with Martha and Betty, and they’re nice.”
“They are, but they’re also geeks. Veronica should know that being seen with them brings down our image as well as hers,” Duke frowned, then said under her breath, “I should’ve known she would never completely leave them. She should stick with one group, the one that actually does something for her.”
“Anyway, Heather, do you want to come study with us again this afternoon? I feel like it really helped you last time,” Mac turned her attention to Heather, as Duke absentmindedly picked at her nails.
“Sure, whatever,” Heather grunted, “I don’t need help though. It was just easier than listening to Fredericks waffle on.”
“Sure, Heather,” Duke said.
“Shut up,” Heather hissed.
“Sor-” Duke began, but was cut off.
“Don’t be rude, Heather,” Mac shot a glare at Heather.
Heather frowned but didn’t argue. Neither of them liked arguing with each other or going against what the other said, but Mac cared about Duke a lot and thought it was stupid how they spent so much time bickering back and forth.
***
Betty frowned, pushing her glasses back up her nose. She peered around the corner of the hallway and watched as Kurt approached JD at his locker. The football player was alone, his usual companion Ram nowhere to be seen. She watched as he pushed back his dark hair nervously, and opened his mouth to talk to JD. JD, evidently was not expecting it, and he instinctively reached into his trenchcoat and pulled out a book, intending to swat Kurt away. Kurt quickly held up his hands and hurriedly rambled, probably explaining something. Betty couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she was intrigued to see JD putting his book back in the depths of his pockets and folding his arms, looking up at the tall quarterback. They conversed for a moment longer, then Kurt nodded and came striding through the hallway towards Betty’s direction. She quickly hid behind the wall as he passed, then once she was sure she wouldn’t be seen, she sped towards JD, his head behind the locker door.
“Jason Dean, why were you talking to Kurt Kelly?” she pushed his locker door back, revealing his face to hers.
“Oh, hey Betty,” JD said, his face blank, “He was just asking me some stuff.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged, “It’s kinda private. I mean, d’you really think he’d come talk to me alone without Meathead Mike?”
“Who’s Meathead Mike?” Betty frowned.
“Ram. In the time it took me to form that sentence, I could not think of a witty alliteration for Ram Sweeney, so Meathead Mike was my- uh- choice,” he adjusted the collar of his trenchcoat, with one hand, the other waving vaguely as he explained.
“Cool,” Betty said slowly, then shook her head, “Did he threaten you or something? Why didn’t you tell him to fuck off?”
“You sure do ask a lot of questions, Betty Finn,” he raised an eyebrow, a cocky grin spread on his face, “Can’t handle not knowing?”
“God, you’re irritating,” she hit his arm.
“Ow, fuck you!” he jumped away from her.
“You’re lucky estrogen decreases my muscle mass, you dick, otherwise that would’ve hurt a lot more,” she shifted her weight to one leg, folding her arms.
“It still hurt,” he mumbled, “Anyway, seen ‘Ronica anywhere?”
“She’s in class with Martha. Social Studies.”
“Damn, I was gonna ask her if she wanted to do something on the weekend, I need her help with something,” JD’s brow furrowed, thinking.
“What’s the thing?” Betty asked.
He chuckled, “You are a very nosy person. You’ll find out eventually.”
“Ugh, you’re so annoying,” Betty threw up her hands, “Anyway, I’m going home now, ‘cause I have a free and no classes after that.”
“See ya tomorrow, Funky Finn,” he saluted her with two fingers.
Her eyes narrowed, trying to keep an angry expression, but failing as a smile appeared, “Later, Dickhead Dean.”
***
“This is killing me,” Veronica groaned, her head in her arms on her desk.
“We only have a few more minutes,” Martha replied, sitting upright and facing the teacher attentively, “I actually find this kinda interesting though.”
“Nerd,” Veronica chuckled, “Say, are you doing anything this weekend? I wanna hang out with you guys again, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ll check my calendar,” Martha nodded, “Would the Heathers have anything planned? I don’t want to get in the way of them, I know how… insistent they can be.”
Veronica rolled her eyes, “They can wait. You’re important to me too. Plus, I’ve been friends with you my whole life.”
“So have you with Heather Duke?” Martha said.
“Well, technically we weren’t friends in middle school, or up until like a month into senior year.”
“Okay, true, but you’ve known her for as long as me.”
Veronica lifted her head up and eyed her, “Martha, I wanna hang out with you. The Heathers aren’t gonna be able to stop me, and I can hang with them anytime I want.”
“If you’re sure,” Martha fiddled with her pencil.
“Of course, dude,” Veronica smiled.
***
Mac sat with Duke at her dining room table, their work spread out across the top. Heather was late, as usual, so they’d got started without her. Mac’s knee bounced at a steady rhythm, as a frown appeared on her face as she tried to decipher the equations in front of her. The girl next to her wore her rarely-seen reading glasses as she pored over a chapter of her English class’s current book being studied. Mac glanced over at her every so often, noticing that her tongue stuck out slightly while she read. Cute . Duke would never push her glasses up with her hands, but scrunch her nose to ease it back up the unpronounced bridge, and her black, wavy curtain bangs threatened to fall in front of her face as she looked down. Also cute .
Suddenly, a loud thump disrupted the quiet, and Mac looked up, irritated, to see her father had dropped a box on the table.
“Heather, package for you,” he said tiredly.
“Hi, Dad,” she said as she stood up, “How was work?”
“Fine,” he said, “some asshole reversed into my car and didn’t leave a note, but it’s fine. I can get it fixed. How’s the schoolwork?”
“Boring and hard. I can’t read the stupid equations. Why would they put letters in math?!” Mac huffed.
“Why didn’t you ask me to help you?” Duke looked up from the table, “I can read it?”
Mac blushed, “You were reading and I didn’t wanna distract you. Also I’m stubborn and I don’t like asking for help.”
“I’ll leave you ladies to work,” her father said, then left the room, presumably to go to his bedroom.
“What’s your package?” Duke asked, setting down the book.
Mac looked at the label, “I dunno. I order a lot of stuff through Dad.” She slid her finger underneath the cardboard and tore the sticky tape off, allowing the flaps to open, then groaned, “God, why do they always put styrofoam in these fucking packages. I hate styrofoam.”
“Do you want me to take it out?” Duke stood behind her, a hand on the small of Mac’s back.
“Yes, please,” she sighed gratefully, “Thanks, Heather, you’re amazing.”
Duke grunted in response, a tiny amount of pinkness appearing in her cheeks, and took the pieces of styrofoam out one at a time. Mac covered her ears sharply and shut her eyes tight as two pieces squeaked together.
“Oh, God, that’s awful,” she exclaimed when Duke was done, rubbing her hands on her shirt, a look of pure disgust on her face, “I don’t know how you do it.”
“I don’t have sensory issues, Mac, that’s how,” Duke sat back down in her seat.
“Well, obviously,” Mac then squealed, “Look, Heather, it’s a satin spar dish engraved with the zodiac! It’s so pretty!”
Duke peeked over at it and blew a small amount of air through her nose as appreciation. “Which one am I again?” she asked.
“You’ve forgotten again?” Mac raised an eyebrow.
“I always forget, Mac, you should know this by now,” Duke pulled her by the hand into her original seat, “Tell me my chart again.”
“We should be doing work though…” Mac frowned.
“Heather’s not here yet, we can do more when she is.”
“Okay, fine,” Mac relented, “You’re an Aries sun at six degrees in the first house, a Virgo moon at two degrees in the sixth house, a Pisces rising at three degrees, an Aries mercury at fourteen degrees in the first house, a Taurus venus at twenty-one degrees in the third house, and a Taurus mars at twenty-nine degrees in the third house. Those are your personal placements.”
“Tell me what they mean again,” Duke nodded her on, “Please.” I like listening to you talk.
As Mac talked on about what her planets and houses meant, Duke’s posture softened from her upright position. Thirteen years of piano tutoring does tend to give one an almost rigid-straight posture. She took off her glasses and rested her cheek in the palm of her hand, smiling as Mac’s words filled her ears. The girl in front of her’s animated explanation wasn’t smooth, or thought out, but Duke really did not care. Mac had a specific rhythm to her voice that, while it may have sounded monotone and stop-startish to others, comforted Duke, as she knew Mac didn’t usually let her natural voice emerge. Letting it emerge meant she felt safe with whoever she was with, and to Duke, Mac feeling safe around her was all she really wanted.
Mac’s brown eyes seemed to twinkle as she moved on to talking about Duke’s venus placement, her toothy grin lifting her cheeks and forcing her eyes to squint slightly. Duke looked down and saw her hands fluttering slightly, and her knees bouncing.
“And that’s really the surface knowledge I have, I could go more in depth but I’d have to go get my notes from my room and I don’t really wanna do that,” Mac beamed, “I wanna stay here with you.”
“Oh, uh, yeah, of course,” Duke stuttered, “Thanks for telling me again, sorry I’m so forgetful.” I’m literally not forgetful at all. I remember everything about what you’ve ever told me about this.
“It’s no problem, I like talking about astrology!” Mac giggled. I also like talking about you.
As she went to speak again, the doorbell rang.
“Oh, that must be Heather!” Mac jumped up and ran to the door, not hearing Duke mutter, “HalleHeather.”
Mac opened the door just as the bell rang again, “Hey, Heather!”
The taller girl threw her arms around her, and sighed, “Sorry, I did that without warning, but I really needed a hug.”
Mac hugged her back, “It’s okay. I like hugging you.”
“Oi, Heathers, work time!” Duke called from the kitchen.
Heather huffed, “Just wanted a hug.”
***
“Come on, Veronica, pick up!” Betty hissed, sitting on the side of her bed. The simple oil lamp flickered, casting a near-golden glow out into Betty’s bedroom. The phone rang for a few more moments, then the voicemail said, “ Uh, hey, it’s Veronica, I’m busy right now, sorry! ”
Betty chuckled. Everything about Veronica was so awkward, and always had been. “Dammit, Nico, I need your help,” she muttered. Just as she was about to put the phone down, it rang again. Betty held it up to her ear excitedly, “Veronica?”
“ Um, no sorry .”
“Oh, hey Martha, what’s up?” Betty raised her eyebrows.
Martha’s voice sounded cheery, “ Nothing much. Well, actually, Veronica, JD and I wanted to hang out on Saturday, but I wanted to invite you too, because, well, I don’t ever wanna leave you out! ”
“Aw, that’s very sweet- wait, did you say JD?” a grin spread across Betty’s face, “Hell yeah, I’d love to come!”
“ Great, thanks Betty! ” Martha said, “ Now, you should go to sleep. Sweet dreams! ”
“See you, Martha,” Betty smiled.
The receiver clicked as the call ended, but Betty kept the phone in her hand. So, JD was coming, huh? Betty placed the phone back on its rest slowly, then jumped up and spun around.
“Fuck yes!” she celebrated, “Ahaha, I’ve got you now, Jason Dean!”
“Betty, what’s going on?!” her mother’s voice called from next door, “Why aren’t you asleep?!”
“Shit,” Betty hissed, then called, “Sorry, Mom! I just needed help with- uh- English!”
“Well, you can do that at a different time! Bedtime!”
“Okay, love you, Mom!” Betty shook her head.
“Love you too, sweetheart!”
***
“So you have to use this formula- A equals P times one plus i to the power of n- because you dunno the total compound interest,” Duke’s head nearly rested on Mac’s shoulder, being so close to the girl.
“It’s so hard!” Mac groaned, “I hate finance. I don’t need to learn it.”
“Considering you’re probably the richest girl in Sherwood, probably most of Ohio too, I’d say finance would be pretty important to you,” Duke scoffed.
Mac frowned, “You do have a point.”
“Anyway, let's do this.”
Heather eyed them both suspiciously, being on the opposite side of the table. The two girls seemed to always be making physical contact, in some way. Right now, Duke’s arm draped over Mac’s to point at certain numbers and letters, and the blonde was not paying attention in the slightest. Mac’s brown doe eyes gazed down at the small girl next to her, animatedly explaining the formula. I know that look, Heather is definitely not taking in anything she’s saying . Chandler shook her head and tried to focus on the work in front of her. Right, so this person has 57- 75, fuck, 75 repayments of- um- fuck.
“Heather, can you read this out for me?” she harrumphed.
Neither Duke or Mac responded. Heather watched, frowning. She saw Mac’s eyes darting from Duke’s shiny, curly black hair, to her focussed, stern dark eyes, and then down slightly to her… lips? First to Duke’s top lip, with its black lipstick coating, to her lower lip, simply glossed over with a clear balm, and then back up to her eyes. Mac’s heavy eyelids fluttered slightly, as a small smile played on her lips, a gentle pink glow emerging in her cheeks.
“Hey, Heathers, snap out of it!” Heather barked, “Seriously, what’s with you guys?!”
The two jolted and stared at her fearfully.
“I’m sorry, Heather, I was listening to Heather,” Mac apologised. Heather glared intensely into Mac’s eyes until the latter looked away, blinking rapidly. “Don’t- don’t do that, please. You know it makes me uncomfortable,” Mac mumbled.
“You know what makes me uncomfortable? Being unable to fucking read, and then asking for help and seeing you drool over each other!” Heather snapped.
“Woah, what the fuck!” Duke’s eyes widened, “I was not drooling, that’s disgusting, I was just explaining reducing balance!”
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Heather muttered.
“Heather, why are you acting like this? She’s just helping me?” Mac’s hand inched towards Duke’s, “If you wanted- want help, there’s no need to be rude about it.”
“I’m not being rude, I’m just annoyed that I’m being left out.”
“Oh, grow up, Heather! Can’t wait your turn?” Duke said angrily, “I’m helping Mac now, so you can wait!”
“Ah, you’re helping her, huh? Why don’t you ask her a question from what you just told her?” Heather spat.
“Sure?” Duke scoffed, “She’s been listening, I dunno what you’re trying to prove.”
Mac gulped, discreetly signing towards Heather, ‘ Why are you doing this? ’
Heather gave her a patronising smile, ‘ Should’ve been paying attention .’
“Okay, Mac, if the equation looks like this, is it straight line depreciation or reducing balance?” Duke faced her, scrunching her nose again to adjust her glasses, an exasperated smile on her lips.
She has nice lips. Shush, Heather . Mac rubbed her knuckles together nervously, avoiding any eye contact, “I, uh, wait let me look.” She pretended to look at the paper to stall. God, if you exist can you please tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to say, I don’t wanna make Heather sad.
“Come on, Mac, it’s kinda easy,” Duke’s smile faltered, “ Weren’t you listening?”
“No- no, I was, I promise,” Mac stuttered, “I’m just- I don’t like being sprung on with questions, is all. I know which one it is.”
Duke nodded, egging her on to say it.
“It’s… straight, because it's simpler, right?” Mac clenched her fists in her lap, hoping it was right.
Duke exhaled, “Yep. See, she was listening.” She faced Heather.
Heather took in a deep breath, then crossed her arms, “Fine. You win. You were right and I was wrong.”
“Don’t be like that,” Mac frowned, “She can help you now.”
“No I won’t. I don’t help assholes,” Duke shot a cold glare at Heather.
“What? Heather, please ,” Mac turned to face her, her expression pleading.
“Heather, I won’t! She needs to learn to not be such a cunt when I’m trying to help you!”
“Oh, suck it up, Heather!” Heather retaliated, “At least I don’t need help keeping a meal down!”
The room went quiet. Duke’s mouth fell slightly ajar. Mac felt her quiver next to her. Heather sat, defiant, opposing the two.
“Heather, I need to talk with you,” Mac stood up, her voice dangerously quiet.
“Oh, fuck off, it was a joke,” Heather sat back in her chair, looking at them both with contempt.
“It is not a choice, Chandler ,” Mac growled.
Duke, despite being upset by Heather’s comment, settled a satisfied smirk on her face, and Heather’s face went pale. Mac never used her surname.
***
Veronica lay in her bed, underneath the covers, thinking. She hadn’t seen any of the Heathers since Saturday, really. She had shared a few classes with them, but they didn’t interact as the workload didn’t permit it. Apparently, according to the racing thoughts in her brain, it was thinking-about-Heather time. Thinking-about-Heathers time.
Dear Diary. Holy. Fucking. Shit. Sorry for swearing. I’ve been avoiding the Heathers since Monday because I really cannot stop worrying about what they're thinking about me, especially Chandler. God, she’s a piece of work. So, she told me I make her feel weird. But why ? I dunno. Agh, this is metaphorically killing meeeee.
I know Heather Duke and I are pretty solid, but I can’t stop thinking that we should at least acknowledge when we were best friends in elementary school. Because, and I say this with love, Mac and Chandler are not the brightest when it comes to remembering things. Duke really didn’t change much from 6th grade to 7th, apart from the fact she got curtain bangs and started wearing dresses and skirts. To anyone else with a brain cell, that is, Martha, Betty and I, Duke and I were close friends. We were always together. Then the same old shit happens with middle school and she’s whisked away by rich, bitchy upper-class girls who, thank God, think she’s a cis girl too. Honestly, I doubt Mac would actually be transphobic, but I also doubt she even knows what trans is. Chandler, however, I’ve got no clue. She’s a real asshole most of the time and bullies people, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard her bully someone for being queer, or use any slurs.
But yeah. I mean, Duke must be safe where she is now, she’s in the most terrifying clique in Westerburg. The only people who would try and do anything to her are the fucknuts at parties who think they can get off on anyone, because they’re sooo attractive. That was sarcasm. They’re fucking ugly as shit.
Honestly, I don’t even know what to do now. Heather said ask her later, Chandler that is, about if we’re cool or not. But I really cannot get her alone again, it's like last week. All I know is that you’ve gotta have a fuckload of talent to run or be quiet in heels, and Heather Chandler has it. I swear, she must put, like, a muffler on the bottom of them.
***
Mac furiously stormed out of the dining room, Heather following behind her, her head bowed. They reached the living room, and Mac slammed the door behind them, forcing herself not to wince at the noise.
“Right,” Mac glared at Heather, “What the fuck was that? I told you not to joke about Heather’s eating- eating disorder.”
“Ugh, can you lay off, Heather, it’s not as if she isn’t used to it!” Heather rolled her eyes.
“That does not fucking excuse it!” Mac screeched, her eyes wild with anger, “Do you know how much she suffers because of what assholes like you tell her? People like you are the- the whole reason she has disordered eating habits! You think she always threw up her food?!”
“Did you just call me an asshole?” Heather exclaimed indignantly.
“Are you fuck-fucking serious, Heather? Is that all you got from what I said? Yes, you’re an asshole, everyone sees it! You’re an asshole!”
Heather paused, then snarled, “Maybe I wouldn’t be such an asshole if you guys actually took notice of me! I’m always the one left out when we’re together without Veronica! You’re supposed to be my best friend!”
“You- ugh- you’re not always the centre of attention, Heather, why can’t you underst-understand that?!” Mac’s voice sounded close to breaking, “I am your best friend, but I’m not responsible for looking after you every single second of every s-single day! I know you struggle, but we all do, and you can’t be mad at us for following our routine, which you know I need! It’s usually only me and Heather every Monday afternoon, so of course we’re used to only helping each other!”
“Yeah, because you never told me you two hung out alone, what else aren’t you telling me, huh?!” Heather snapped back.
“I am allowed to have other friends, Heather! You need- you need to grow up!” Mac began slightly teetering back and forth on her toes, “I don’t want to fight with you, but you’re being irrational and unfair!”
Heather growled, “I’ve been protecting you my whole life, you’re nothing without me! You seriously think any guy would want to fuck you if I hadn’t made you a Heather?! You’re telling me to grow up, when you can’t even fend for yourself!”
“Well, wh-what if I don’t want guys to want to fuck me? You know how exhausting it is to be constantly hit on by horny guys when you have no interest in any of them?! I hate it, I hate everything about being a Heather! I just wanted to support you as your friend, but you’ve changed and I don’t think I even know who you are anymore!” Mac’s eyes seemed watery, “When did you start being such- such a bitch?!”
“When I realised you and Heather were weak by yourselves! You’re seventeen and you still can’t stand up to someone without sputtering and making a fool of yourself?”
Mac avoided her eyes, her brows twitching and her knuckles rubbing together, “That- that’s not fair, Heather! It’s not my fault!”
“At least Heather has the guts to bite back sometimes, you should take a leaf out of her book! Oh wait, how are you supposed to do that when all you can do in look at her lips like a fucking dyke ?!” Heather pushed Mac’s shoulder, “You really had to stoop that low?”
“Heather, st-stop,” Mac began to tremble.
“Stop, huh?! Why couldn’t you stop when I asked for you and Heather’s help, huh?!” Heather stepped closer, “ I needed help and you couldn’t stop staring at her!”
Mac said nothing, but tears began to spill down her face as she rocked back and forth on her heels.
“When are you going to realise that I’m your best friend, and I’m important, Heather?” Heather spat.
Mac shook her head and gripped her hands over her ears, “Stop-!”
“You can’t leave me, ever!” Heather laughed, “You honestly think Duke would stay with you if I left?!”
The yellow-clad girl fell to the floor suddenly, her hands shaking with the tightness of their grip on her head. She tried to get up but her legs failed and she collapsed on the floor, sobbing. She scrambled to the corner of the room and sat cross-legged, swaying back and forth, her hands clasped in her hair, so hard that Heather thought she might pull it out.
“Oh, fuck,” Heather’s eyes widened, “No, no, Thea, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to cause-”
“Shut up, Heather!” Mac screeched, “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” her hands left her hair and began hitting her thighs as her breaths became faster and faster.
Heather looked around wildly, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She spotted a pillow, snatched it and tried to whisper, “Hey, Thea, can you let me put this on you?”
Mac let out a cry, shaking her head, her eyes shut tight. Her arms lifted slightly, and Heather took that chance to place the pillow on her thighs to stop bruises from forming. “Go away!” Mac wailed, “Go away, go away, go away-” she kept repeating those words over and over until, “It’s too loud!” and that became her repetitive phrase. Heather stood there, her eyes wide and her stance open, then something clicked and she sped over to the lightswitch and flicked it off. Mac’s distressed babble ceased, but she still hyperventilated and rocked back and forth.
Heather gulped, then left the room, closing the door and hoping it would be alright. Walking back into the dining room, she found Duke sitting in her chair, facing the doorway she’d just come through.
“I’m leaving,” Heather said without a hint of emotion in her voice.
“What? Where’s Mac?” Duke stood up.
“She’s- she needs to be alone,” Heather picked up her blazer and threw it over her shoulder. Duke tried to go past her, but Heather grabbed her arm, “No! You- she can’t see anyone right now.”
“Heather, what the fuck did you do to her?!” Duke looked up at her furiously.
Heather whispered, her eyes brimming with tears, “I fucked up, Heather, I fucked up so bad.”
“What the fuck did you do!” Duke pulled her down by the collar of her shirt, “I swear to God, you fucking asshole!”
“She’s having a meltdown, okay!” one of Heather’s hands pressed on her temple, “I need to leave.”
“Aren’t you gonna help her?!” Duke said incredulously, “She’s in that state and you’re just leaving her?!”
“I caused it, Heather! I wouldn’t be able to help her even if I wasn’t the reason!”
Duke gritted her teeth, “Right. You are leaving now .”
Heather nodded meekly, and as she swept out the door, Duke heard her say, “Tell her I love her and I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”