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Heather Mcnamara is starting to annoy Veronica Sawyer.
It feels as she's hovering over her, even though the only class they share is study hall. Every study hall, Heather seats herself in front of Veronica and stares at her across the table.
She’s been doing that for four weeks and three days, ever since Heather Duke humiliated her in front of the whole school.
Veronica thinks that Heather can’t go a day without following someone. She reminds Heather of a dog and with an invisible leash between her and the person most sympathetic to her at the moment, like a teenaged Blanche Dubois batting her eyes as she admits "I've always depended on the kindness of strangers."
That’s why Veronica's certain that Heather's the kind of person who’ll never leave their middle of nowhere town.
“Where’s the furthest you’ve ever gone outside of Sherwood?” Veronica asks Heather as she re-reads the same passage in her textbook about the French Revolution. Heather’s gaze is making her lose focus. Heather reminds Veronica of Marie Antoinette, frivolous and unsuspecting until it’s too late.
“Lake Erie, I think. My family has a cabin there, we go every summer. Why?”
“Just because.” Veronica answers. It isn’t just because. It’s because she wants to confirm that Heather is every bit the dumb bimbo coward she thinks she is.
Veronica wants to challenge Heather. She wants to push Heather to her limits. And so, she pushes.
“...That’s not far. Less than an hour's drive. Don’t you want to go further?”
“Maybe,” Heather answers. “It might not be for me, though. It sounds… scary.”
Heather sounds uncertain. She’s been sounding uncertain all the time lately, ever since Heather Chandler died and left behind a hole shaped like her.
Veronica looks at her, and Heather shies away from her gaze.
“Then, let’s head to the end of the world together,” Veronica says.
Heather blinks a few times in surprise at Veronica’s proposition, then makes eye contact and nods slowly. Her expression is unreadable. Veronica can’t tell if Heather wants to go, or if the red scrunchie in Veronica’s hair forces her to comply.
Veronica’s parents trust Heather.
Heather’s parents don’t know Veronica exists, but they don’t care much about what Heather does in the first place.
That’s why it isn’t hard for the two to plan their road trip to the end of the world.
They stop at a small diner in Illinois and have a hotdog and a shake, and Veronica imagines they’re Leopold and Loeb after their thrill-killing. The weapon of their crime is still in the trunk of Veronica’s car, and poor Bobby Franks is lying in a culvert somewhere soaking up water.
“What are you thinking about?” Heather asks, and everything disappears as easily as it came. As Veronica watches Heather furrow her brows trying to drink the last of her milkshake, she feels guilty for making Heather star in a depraved fantasy.
A little past Albuquerque, Heather buys a three hundred dollar prom dress and a rope and tries to hang herself in a holiday inn. Veronica walks into the room after she’s finished showering, and sees Heather levitating like Carrie. She cuts the rope with a jack-knife and stares incredulously at the sobbing girl.
“You should’ve let me die.”
Veronica is pissed again, though she doesn’t know why.
As they near the Grand Canyon, Veronica sees them as Thelma and Louise. She imagines swerving the car unnaturally and falling off of the ledge. She thinks Heather would thank her for it.
The manic depressive something in Heather’s eyes is getting to her. She hopes they’ll both last to the end of the world.
They sit side-by-side at the end of the world, their feet dangling into the abyss.
A waterfall announces its presence with a loud, steady roar, and Veronica lets herself focus on the sound as she stares into the seemingly endless pit. Heather is leaning so far into the emptiness that Veronica’s afraid she’ll fall and lose her balance. She knows Heather wants to lose balance. She’s been trying to tip herself over the ledge throughout the trip, to the point of no return.
Veronica extends her arm to cover Heather’s hand.
Heather looks at her, surprised, but Veronica continues to look ahead.
After a moment, Heather speaks.
“Did you really kill Heather Chandler?”
“What?”
“You said you killed her once.”
“We all killed her, in some way. Popularity killed her.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Heather’s voice is as serious as she can make it. It still comes out childish, and the heaviness of the conversation seems ironic in her tone. It makes Veronica ache a little, thinking about Heather Mcnamara and the way she couldn’t be taken seriously in even the most dire of situations. She knows Heather doesn’t want her pity, but she can’t help it.
“...Her last words were corn nuts,” Veronica confesses.
Heather’s eyes widen slightly before she nods.
“It seems like her.”
“...And also, Ram did love you in his own way. He wasn’t…”
“I know. I would know better than anyone.”
Veronica flinches at that, because how could she not? She had seen their relationship first-hand. She had felt the fear, the loss, the emptiness that had enveloped the other girl. She looks at the broken, objectified cheerleader next to her and regrets all of the things she’s thought before about her.
“It’s the same way you loved J.D, right?” Heather says, her eyes unnaturally bright and her voice unnaturally venomous, and Veronica feels her guts churn. In that moment, she thinks there’s nothing Heather doesn’t know. She just squeezes her hand tighter, because she doesn’t know what to do.