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

2- Questions

September 25, 1989. Monday.
(Two days after Ram Sweeney's party)

On Monday morning, Heather Chandler had come prepared. The events of the party still fresh in her brain, a wave of anger took over her every time she thought about Veronica disobeying her humiliating her in front of everyone, ruining her shoes...It was safe to say Heather arrived at school wanting Veronica's blood.

Heather wasn't an idiot, she wasn't planning in ditching Sawyer forever, she was aware of how useful she was, more so than Heather and Heather could ever be.

Despite her very overdramatic resignation, Heather knew Veronica would come crawling back with her tail between her legs, begging to be accepted a part of the Heathers again, and Heather, as the good, merciful leader she was, would let her; but she couldn't let Veronica's little rebellious act go without consequences, she had an image to maintain after all. She figured a week or two being back as greasy nobody, with no one but Martha Dumptruck and Nerdy Betty Finn as company, while everyone else ignored her or treated her like dirt, would be enough to humble Veronica; maybe Heather would bribe Ram, Kurt and the test of his neanderthal friends to shove her against the wall or something.

When Heather arrived at Westerburg High, every student seemed to be waiting to see what she would do, expectations high while they waited for the drama, some glancing at the doors from time to time as they waited for Veronica to arrive, like a greek audience anxious for the second gladiator to arrive so the bloodshed could commence.

The only problem: The bell symbolizing the begging of classes rang and Veronica didn't show up. Heather didn't share any classes with her on Monday, not until after lunch that is, when they had french together, so she would have to wait for their little confrontation to happen at the cafeteria, which Heather was more than okay with, the more people to witness her victory over Ms.Goody-Two-Shoes-Who-Can't-Hold-Down-Her-Beer the better.

"I have American Lit. with her and she wasn't there," Heather Duke came bearing the frustrating news during lunch. "Ms. Wallace called her name three times during roll call just to make sure."

"She's probably hiding, that coward," Heather said, fiddling with the cuticles on her ring finger with her thumb, accidentally scratching off a bit of red nail polish as she did so.

"Or she's sick, guys," Heather McNamara chimed in. "She drank a looot on Saturday, maybe she's still hungover."

"Please," Heather scoffed, dismissing her friend. "She's probably begging her mommy and daddy to transfer her to Jefferson by now."

"Yeah, besides how hungover can she be if everything she drank ended up on Heather's shoes?" Duke said with a snort, but her grin dissipated and regret took over her face as soon as the words got out of her mouth and Heather Chandler turned her head to glare at her.

"You should know, right, Heather?" Chandler said, the poison practically dripping from her glossy red lips. Heather shrunk into herself and went back to focus on her lunch -a half drank bottle of water.

Chandler looked around at the cafeteria, searching for the familiar mop of brown she knew wasn't there. "She's a total nerd, she's not gonna skip class for the whole week," she said. "We'll deal with her tomorrow."

***

September 26, 1989. Tuesday.

(Three days after Ram Sweeney's party.)

Tomorrow came, but Veronica, once again, didn't. People were starting to whisper and it made Heather furious, her threats meant nothing if she didn't come through with them, and she couldn't do that if Veronica didn't even bother to show up.

Heather saw Veronica's little boy toy, —moping around the hallways in his school shooter fashion, sitting alone in the lunchroom— and she almost went up to him to ask where the fuck his coward of a girlfriend was, but she was not one to show desperation to Jason Fucking Dean so she ditched the idea as soon as it came to her.

When she was driving home, she got her answer. The missing person poster was glued on the pole a few blocks away from her house —as the days went on, over a hundred of them were scattered across the town.

On Wednesday morning, everyone was talking about it.