Heathers: The Novel

Heather Chandler (Chapter 1)

There's a blaring sound directly in my right ear.

My eyes slowly open.

Darkness.

My hands reach up to my face as I slowly lift my soft pink sleeping mask. My eyes adjust to the lighting and what's revealed is a huge room with red walls and furniture so nice you could find it in a palace.

I reach my hands down and throw my blanket off me. My legs slide off my queen-sized bed and into my red, soft slippers.

My alarm is still blaring.

Shut the hell up.

Suddenly, it's on the floor against the wall. . .whoops. I'll just make my parents buy me a new one. On the floor is The Bell Jar. It must have fell off my night stand when I was reaching for my alarm clock.

The Bell Jar is some lame ass book the school librarian recommended to me. I originally went into the library to pick on the school's nerds and ended up checking out a book so I wouldn't get in trouble.

It's about a college student named Esther Greenwood who killed herself over sex fantasies. Kinda sad if you think about it, and not in the "Oh my gosh, she killed herself" kind of sad. More like, "that lard-ass is such a slut that she killed herself."

After looking around my room for a bit, I finally stand up and walk my pink-slipper covered feet over to my private bathroom. My room is technically the master bedroom. I made my parents give it to me. What are they gonna do? Kick me out? They don't care enough to do that. All they care about is they're money and looks. I mean. . .same. . .but like I'm their daughter y'know.

After taking a shower, washing my face, and brushing my teeth, I look at the paper calendar on my wall. It's the cute one with the pictures of puppies on it.

Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw! It's the first day of school.

How could I forget. . .oh wait I just don't care.

Holy shit!

I totally forgot I have to pick up my friends.

Just then, the phone rings. I head over to the wall-phone, pick it up, and press it against my ear.

"Where the hell are you Heather?!" It's Heather McNamara. She's the head cheerleader. Her dad's loaded but that's only because he sells engagement rings.

"I'm coming, Jesus. I just woke up late!" I yell. I slam the phone back on the wall and hurry to my closet.

Everyday, my outfit consists of the same thing. It has to. I'm part of the most powerful clique in school. This clique requires a dress code. We're called the Heathers.

I'm Heather Chandler, I'm the mythic bitch. I'm the leader. I'm worshiped at Westerburg and I'm only a junior. My outfit is mainly red. It consists of red, plaid, knee high socks. Red heels. A red plaid skirt. A white button up with a tiny red bow tie at the neck. A red jacket with a chain in the middle. And a red scrunchy holding my beautiful blonde hair up.

Heather McNamara, the one I was on the phone with, wears a yellow outfit. It consists of plain, yellow, knee high socks, with yellow heels. A short yellow and white striped skirt. A white button up. A yellow jacket. And a yellow scrunchy holding up her blonde hair.

Heather Duke is the last Heather. Her outfit is mainly green. It consists of dark green, knee high socks. Brown boot-heels with green laces. A green skirt. White button up. And a green jacket. Her brown hair is held up by a green scrunchy.

After I have my outfit on, I head downstairs into the living room of my house. "Hey, Dad," as he's sitting on the couch.

"Hey honey!" he says back.

"I'm gonna go rob a bank and kill like 30 people," I say, knowing he's not listening.

"Sounds good! Be back by 9!" he says back. He says that but never actually pays attention to the time. I've gotten back at like 3 in the morning, one time. He was still watching T.V. and didn't pay me any mind. He literally could not care less.

Fuck him.

I walk out the front door and I hear yelling across the street. A guy in an all black outfit and a long trench coat runs out of a house. "Fuck you, Dad!" he yells at the house. From inside, I can hear someone yell back.

"Plenty of pretty women out there sport! I can easily make a new son!"

Jesus Christ.

I decide to mind my business. I head for my car and start it. That kid looks interesting. Like he could get into trouble, and not care. He didn't seem to care about screaming at his Dad. Maybe I'll see him at school.