Chapter Text
There’s nothing Heather hates more than a snarky bitch who tries to hide it. Or, even worse, a snarky bitch who doesn’t even realize that they are one.
Heather knows that most people would consider her a bad person. She can't blame them, either–-she doesn’t think before she speaks, her brutal honesty being ridiculed her entire life. It's not like she does it on purpose. In fact, she sometimes has a hard time even thinking about other people’s feelings at all. If it wouldn’t hurt her, then she can’t fathom it hurting someone else. When she was younger, she felt like this was something she needed to work on. Now, though, she doesn't really see it as an issue. Somewhere down the line, friendship became less about forming genuine connections, and more about maximizing the amount of people she had in her back pocket. It didn’t matter if she truly disdained someone; if they were well-known, she was determined to be their right-hand man.
Hence her somehow becoming best friends with no-brained, mind-numbing, bottle-blonde Lindsay Peterson. Heather had the misfortune of having to sit next to her during sophomore year English. Before Lindsay, she thought it was impossible to have any questions at all about the subject, but she quickly learnt that some people can get confused about literally anything. Quite frankly, she wanted nothing to do with her. But Heather had just moved to a new school, and she didn’t know anybody else. Plus, she quickly noticed that whenever she and Lindsay walked out of class, practically every student in their vicinity made it their life’s mission to smile and wave at her. So, she really had no choice but to attach herself to the top of the pyramid.
And, thankfully, her efforts didn't go to waste. Soon, those waves were directed towards her, people she barely knew acting as if they'd known her for years. Each post she made on Instagram was flooded with tooth-aching compliments, praising her for how 'pretty' and 'cool' they thought she was. Honestly, it made her feel less two-faced for befriending Lindsay; everyone at this school was scrambling to climb up the social ladder. These people didn't really care to get to know her, they just wanted her to give them the leg-up she used Lindsay to get. And although that sounds depressing, Heather doesn't really mind. The fact that people see her as a means to be on top is validating.
If she’s being honest, the only one of her friends that she genuinely enjoys the company of is Bridgette. Perhaps that’s because her family is filthy rich and invites their friend group on vacation every summer, but Heather likes to think it’s because Bridgette isn’t trying too hard to be someone she’s not. Beth, for example, tries way too hard. Unfortunately for her, no matter how much money she spends on new clothes, how many makeup tutorials she watches, or how many sugary-sweet compliments she gives out, nobody will ever see her as more than a brace-faced geek. Bridgette, on the other hand, could really care less about being popular. She’s not friends with Lindsay because she wants to be propelled up the social ladder, she’s friends with her because she genuinely enjoys her company. Of course, she wouldn’t think Bridgette was a bad person if she did have ulterior motives, since that’s the only reason why she herself is in the group, but it makes her feel like Bridgette’s friends with her for the same reason: because she really likes her.
So Heather may be fake to all of her other friends, but she isn’t fake to Bridgette. It would feel wrong to treat her like the others when she sees how authentic she is. Which is why it’s so ridiculous for her to hear that,
“Courtney doesn’t like you because she thinks you’re a fake snarky bitch.”
Heather can’t help but guffaw at the words she just heard. Courtney Satella thinks that she’s a “fake snarky bitch?” Remember that thing from earlier? Well, the reason why she developed that thought in the first place is because of her. She can’t stand having to see posters of her perfectly curated white-toothed smile decorating the hallways, her irritatingly high-pitched voice handing out pins and telling everyone to, “vote for Courtney!” Or, even worse, having to watch her on the video announcements every morning, going on and on about what a 'good leader' she would be as their new class president. All the while, Courtney’s participated in spreading rumors about maybe every single person in their grade. In fact, she’s created most of them! Noah Patel was caught cheating during the AP Euro exam. Katie Caballero stuffed her bra in ninth grade because she was jealous of guys only looking at Lindsay’s. Gwen Decker hurled all over her desk the day after New Year’s because of a hangover. Cody Anderson has a small dick (which, if Heather’s being honest, is probably true).
But she acts like she would never do such a thing. In everyone’s eyes, she’s the sweetest girl they know, whose only fault is being too stuck-up when it comes to certain things. She's "the obvious pick for class president!" and, "totally earned her spot as valedictorian!" Sometimes Heather feels like she’s living in a twilight zone–-how is she the only one who can see through her bullshit?
“Honestly, I couldn't care less about what that girl thinks of me.” Bridgette’s eyebrows raise, her looking surprised by her words. Because if anyone's under Courtney's spell the most, it's poor her. She notices her eyes briefly dart down to her hands on the cart. When Heather looks down, she realizes that she's clinging onto the handlebar so tight, her knuckles are turning white. Bashfully, she relinquishes her grip on it.
“...What’s your problem with Court?” Heather internally rolls her eyes. What’s not her problem with Courtney? Part of her wants to sit Bridgette down at the nearest possible seat, and hold an entire Socratic seminar over how much she despises her. Unfortunately, that would be a lot of work, and Bridgette probably wouldn’t even agree with her. So she sticks with,
“I mean, she's dating my ex.” Which, yes, is true, but Heather could literally care less about him.
If Heather has a hard time understanding her friend’s emotions, she may as well be a completely different species than her boyfriends. Dating Duncan Evans was the most excruciating game of mental gymnastics Heather’s ever had the misfortune of participating in. Sophomore year, they both needed a date to homecoming. They were practically only dating out of convenience–-Duncan liked her (or, more accurately, how she looked), and she tolerated him. Plus, Bridgette wanted to be able to go on double dates, and for some reason her boyfriend’s best friend is the try-hard punk wannabe. One thing about guys, Heather’s noticed, is that they get along with just about anybody. She could only dream about being so open-minded.
Anyways, they only dated for around two months. That’s all Heather could bear, anyways, and when she finally broke up with him over the phone, he pretended not to care. At least, Heather thought he was pretending, until he started dating Courtney immediately after. Which would only really make sense if they already had a connection, seeing how lovey-dovey they were right off the bat, and how dedicated he seemed to their relationship. Furthermore, that would mean that he was emotionally cheating on her throughout their relationship, if not physically. Which, again, she really couldn't care less, but it’s a bit embarrassing for her to think that her first boyfriend was in love with another girl the whole time. It’s alright though, because nobody's ever really talked about that part. At least to her face. Plus, a year after, he decided to dye the tips of his hair neon green. Pee-yuck.
“Oh,” Bridgette says after a beat, “I honestly kind of forgot you and him even dated.” So does Heather, most of the time.
“Yeah, I wish I could forget about it too. But he was my first boyfriend, I’ve never been able to just pretend like it never happened.” Which, okay, Heather knows that she’s being a little fake by playing up her emotions to her. But she does actually resent Courtney! She’s just…pretending it's for a different reason. No harm no foul, right?
“Awww, Heather!" Bridgette coos, rubbing her on the back. “I didn’t realize you were such a sucker for romance.”
“Okay,” she says, shooing her arm away, “there’s no need for that. It’s just why I’m not too fond of her, is all.” A group of rowdy middle-school boys begins to walk away from one of the self-checkout stations. They make their way over to the newly-vacant spot, Heather scanning each item and Bridgette bagging. A big back of multicolored solo cups. Beep. Bright blue streamers. Beep. Three fun-sized bags of Garden Salsa Sun Chips. Beep.
“That’s understandable, I just…” Bridgette trails off. “I just really want everyone to get along at my birthday party, is all.” Shit. Now Heather feels like a horrible friend. Look, if she could control her feelings, she would. But, unfortunately, Courtney is her least favorite person on Earth. Err, maybe Earth is a bit of a stretch, but she's most definitely her least favorite at their school.
“I can just avoid her, Bridgette." She swipes a Pinkie Pie pool floatie. Beep. "I promise, I won’t make it a big thing.”
“But I don’t want you guys to just avoid each other. Honestly, I think that you two would get along great!”
…She’s beginning to think that Bridgette has a completely different version of her in her head, because she can’t think of a single reason why she and Courtney Satella would get along.
If Heather’s being honest with herself, she wouldn’t consider herself to be the kind of person to do bend over backwards for other people. It's not like her to do someone a favor without expecting anything in return. The selfish part of her brain wants to abide by that, and tell her straight-up that it’s either she avoids Courtney, or she socks her in the face. But this is Bridgette. Heather feels weirdly indebted to her. And so, she lets out a sigh, and musters up an encouraging smile.
“I’ll try my best to get along with her, okay?” The way Bridgette beams makes her feel like she’s doing the right thing, even if she’d rather be stuck in a room with ten Lindsays than willingly spend time with Courtney. And, on top of that, she has to be nice to her. In her eighteen years of life, Heather doesn't think that she's had to do something as difficult as this. Even the thought of being buddy-buddy with Courtney makes her feel sick.
“Thank you so, so much Heather! Seriously, when Courtney said that about you, my heart dropped. I really didn’t want to have to deal with any unnecessary drama at my party, you know?”
She doesn’t exactly know why, but that really grinds Heather’s gears. Sure, Heather hates Courtney, but she keeps it to herself. Courtney, on the other hand, felt the need to make Bridgette feel stressed for virtually no reason. Really, it should be her that’s trying to play nice with Heather, not the other way around. But, if there’s one thing about Courtney, it’s that she sticks to her guns. And so, she can’t possibly see a reality where she’d let bygones be bygones for the sake of making Bridgette happy.
So, fuck Courtney for calling her a “snarky, fake bitch.” She’ll prove her wrong. She’s going to be so nice, so likeable at this party that she feels dumb for even insinuating that about her to Bridgette. Or, even better, she’ll be kicking herself for even having those thoughts in the first place. And, if things really go her way, Courtney'll be super standoffish, and try to rock the boat with her, which in turn will make Bridgette realize who the real bitch has always been. Which, knowing how immature she can be, isn't too far-fetched of an idea.
“No need to thank me, Bridgette! I don’t want anything getting in the way of your special day.” She swipes the last item (Beep), bagging it and motioning towards her purse. “Do you need me to pay for any of this?”
Bridgette smiles warmly. “Thanks sweet of you to offer! That’s okay, though, my parents said they’d cover everything.”
The only things in Heather’s purse are lip balm and gum.