Can't We Be Seventeen? (If We Still Got The Right)

1- Groundhog day

September 29, 1989. Friday.

(Six days after Ram Sweeney's party.)

Heather Chandler was a lot of things. She was rich, she was powerful, she was popular. But she was not a morning person.

As the morning sun welcomed another day, the sunlight peeking through her satin curtains and the birds chirping outside, Heather groaned, rolling in her queen-sized bed and enjoying the softness of the pillows and the 600 thread sheets her grandmother had given her after her trip to Egypt.

As always, her protests weren't enough to get her out of going to school. Slowly, she got out of bed, putting her sleep mask on the bedside table and letting her golden locks down as she began sleepwalking into her bathroom to get ready.

Her morning routine, during school days at least, had been the same since freshmen year. Heather always took an hour to get ready, then she would get down to the kitchen where her breakfast would be waiting for her (on the days that she was alone, with the exception of the maids, she would eat in the dining room. On the rare occasions that one or both of her parents were home in the morning, she would ask someone from the staff to make her food to go and she would eat in the car instead.)

Her parents were not home, so she sat quietly on the table with a bowl of muesli in front of her, as she finished reading her copy of The Bell Jar. At 7:06, she drove off with her Porsche to pick up Heather and Heather, her usual commute to school a little shorter now that there was one less house to drive by.

The day went on as most did. She wandered off during her classes, daring as much as painting her nails during Geography when Mr. Davis was asleep. At lunch, she sat with her friends, and they talked about their usual mundane stuff, though none of them seemed that invested, their conversations dwindling off minutes after they began, the unspoken subject hovering above them like a cloud. Unlike most Friday nights, Ram and Kurt didn't approach their table to talk about their next party. No one dared to even whisper the word party, not after what happened at the last one.

That week had been the longest of Heather's life, all of the days blending in with each other into one, a monotonous repetition, like a video being played over and over. She wished she had a hall pass so she could ditch this limbo, but alas they don't have that luxury anymore, since the person who provided that commodity is out of the group now.

The bell rang, and Heather got out of class to rendezvous with McNamara and Duke, who were already waiting for her at the entrance. Duke mumbled a complaint about her science project and McNamara shared what had happened during cheer practice but Heather didn't pay attention.

And as every day, on her way home, Heather passed by the light pole on Lincoln Street. Slowing down to look at a light pole had not been part of Heather's routine, but it became a habit ever since they put that poster there, three days prior, on Tuesday. She tried to ignore it every time she passed by it, to step on the pedal and go faster, or to look away, take her eyes off the road for just a second. But the urge was stronger than her and she found herself failing every time, staring intently, and she could almost feel the person smiling in the picture staring right back at her. This time it was no different. She kept her eyes glued on the poster, even though she already knew what was written in it, the bold letters burned into her brain.

MISSING:

Veronica Sawyer

Age: 17

Height : 5'7'

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Brown

Last seen: September 23rd, 1989.