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It was fun (until it wasn't, but then it was)
Veronica’s gone – bitch. Why didn’t she just suck that loser’s dick and move on (the way Heather just did)? But no. She ruins everything, including Heather’s credibility as the coolest girl at Westerburg High. The little cunt is gonna pay for it. By tomorrow (It’s only a day away, right? And there’s enough mouthwash to make the taste go away by then.) everyone’s going to know what a drunken loser she is. Veronica will be lucky if she even has a spot at Martha Dumptruck’s table after Heather gets through with her.
She takes a drag on the cigarette she shouldn’t be smoking (It stains your teeth and she can’t have that. Nice white teeth in a mouth that just… did nothing. No big deal, right?) and stares at the sky. Time to go back inside. Because this is a party. A very cool party for very cool people, and Heather Chandler is the most popular and the most desirable of them all.
It’s a Remington party.
“Having fun?”
A voice from the darkness startles her. Who…? Oh god. Just what she needs. It’s that loser boy Veronica’s been slumming with. “Yes,” she says defiantly. “I just needed a cigarette. But I’m going back in now.” She’s nervous. Why is she nervous?
He saunters (She never saw the need for that word until now.) up to her, eyes taking her in. She feels naked. And humiliated. (She’s back in the bathroom and she can see her face… see the traces of the price she pays for her popularity on the mirror.)
“Too bad. I was looking for something to do.” For a moment she thinks he means… but it sounds like he means exactly what he said – something, not someone. That has to be a lie though. Boys only want one thing.
“What are you even doing here?” she asks, her voice haughty and superior even if she doesn’t feel it, because no, she does. (She always feels superior, because she is.) “Shouldn’t you be with Veronica right now? She could use you to hold her hair back.”
A low chuckle. “Can’t hold her liquor, eh? Knew she was a lightweight.” The casual insult (or maybe not so casual)… it shouldn’t surprise her (It doesn’t, because nothing surprises her.), but she still doesn’t know how to react. “You know, I don’t think you were having fun at all. I think you’re too much for this crowd. Horny frat boys and wannabes. I think you’d like something more… interesting.”
His eyes are boring into hers and for the first time in (minutes) forever, she almost wants to… no, she doesn’t, because Heather Chandler has no time for tears. She should really go back inside.
But she stays where she is (If she leaves, she’s admitting she’s scared and Heather Chandler is afraid of nothing. She’s the girl everyone else fears.) and she says, “You’re right. But they’re still better than high school boys.”
It’s an insult and he should be feeling it, but instead there’s that low chuckle. “Depends on the high school boy.” He looks her up and down again, this time his eyes stop and stay below her neck. If he were an ordinary boy (Which he is, right?), she’d know he was staring at her boobs, but she knows somehow (She’s wrong, she has to be wrong, because she was very careful.) that he sees… something. Again… Okay, yes, she’s afraid. But she still doesn’t move.
“Why don’t I go back in with you? You can introduce me to him.”
“Him?” Her voice just shook. Her voice never shakes. Her voice just shook.
There’s that chuckle again. “Whoever.” He shrugs, and he takes her arm. “I think we can make this party really fun.”
The End.