Chapter Text
“No, no, hell no.”
Her voice was barely a whisper as she stared at the pregnancy test. Two lines. Positive. Pregnant. It couldn’t be… But it had to be. The last four tests came up with almost identical results. The first line appeared faint at first, and she stubbornly insisted that McNamara drive off campus for more tests, to make sure, to get that one, single line of safety.
“Veronica, are you done in there?” came the concerned voice of Heather McNamara. “Eighth period starts in ten minutes,” she said, giving the stall a short rap of a knock.
“…Y-Yeah.”
“Ronnie?” Her voice came softer, more comforting, almost enough to convince Veronica to let go of the tears that made her vision blurry. But not quite. “I don’t think you’re going to get a different result…”
Veronica blinked, letting the tears roll down her cheeks, quickly patting her face dry. She took in a shaky breath and shut her eyes tight, squeezing the bridge of her nose. God, she’d been so careful. Her life was beginning to pick back up to its usual rhythm of normality, each day bringing her farther away from the damage JD caused. And now this had to ruin everything. She pulled up her skirt and looked down at herself, wondering how this… this thing had survived all that happened. She barely survived all that happened.
Veronica would not cry in front of McNamara. Heather, along with Martha, had become one of her best friends since the peppy cheerleader found the strength to break away from Duke, but Veronica knew she’d always think of her as one of the Heathers. No matter how sweet her words were, how many inside jokes they laughed about, the wall from the events that lead to and carried out so much pain and death separated them. Chandler was the first aggressor, then Duke was the second, and even though she loved McNamara to death…
Veronica let the stall door creak open, her stone hard expression meeting Heather’s concerned one. “You’re right,” she said. “I guess I’m really…” Veronica’s voice cracked, revealing her weakness against her will. Those damn tears began to fill her eyes once more, and she shook her head, looking down and away from Heather’s gaze. Her hand shook, making the pregnancy test bounce up and down.
And suddenly, Heather’s small arms were around her, squeezing Veronica to her slight body. She allowed herself to rest her head on her shoulder, taking a deep breath. She smelled of hairspray and perfume, but beyond that she smelled like cookies baking and long nights gossiping and crying while watching films late at night and swapping stories on the phone. Something like home.
“Hell, I’m sorry for the waterworks,” Veronica sniffled, her tears staining Heather’s jacket. It was a beautiful thing, something Heather had been raving about for ages about purchasing, and was just the right amount of frill and warmth and yellow checkered pattern. Veronica almost choked on a sob, letting herself go. Heather was her friend, nothing that happened in the past would change that, but still, part of feared she’d go running back to Duke one day, and the lovely girl she’d gotten to really know would disappear forever.
“Is it…?” Veronica pulled away as Heather spoke the question, her voice dipping down and trailing off. Where worry once lay in Heather’s eyes, pity replaced it. Veronica swallowed hard. Everyone at Westerburg, including Heather, thought JD and herself were in love, or as much as in love as a high school couple can be. She couldn’t let anyone, not even Heather, know what really happened to Chandler, to Ram, to Kurt, to JD… And what might’ve happened to Westerburg. She hated him, sure, but she knew she couldn’t let his memory be tainted. He was just seventeen…
No one found the thermals. With the chaos that happened after the bomb went off and blew JD sky-high, no one, not even the staff and teachers, noticed Veronica slipping back in to the gym. Veronica didn’t have an answer for why she had to make sure the boy that caused so much ruin and chaos was known as the final tragedy in the Westerburg suicides, but she couldn't let him die a villain.
“…Yeah. Has to be,” she murmured, Heather going back in for another quick hug, squeezing Veronica and repeating, “It’s gonna be okay!” and other optimistic phrases.
“Look, we’ll figure it out, ‘kay?” Heather said, her hands resting on Veronica’s shoulders. The brunette smiled a bit. It seemed like only yesterday she had been the strong one, pulling Heather away from despair.
“Okay,” Veronica said with a nod, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “God, I’m a mess,” she said, shaking her head as she saw the mixture of tears and makeup staining her hand. She looked over Heather’s shoulder and began to laugh as her eyes met the mirror. Her reflection was messy, but it was solid, there.
She’d get through this.