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

5- You're planning your future, Veronica Sawyer.

October 2nd, 1989. Monday.

(Nine days after Veronica Sawyer's murder)

Courtney's neighbor was a police officer.

Better yet, Courtney's neighbor was a police officer with a wife who loved to gossip. That's how she got the news firsthand and rushed to the phone to tell Heather Chandler as soon as she could, the probability of being one step ahead of Heather practically orgasmic to her. Not for one second did Courtney stop to think that the only reason she got the upper hand was because someone had died.

Courtney only knew some parts, of course, the key points; not enough to paint you the full picture with rich details but enough for you to understand what happened.

They found her in the woods, on Saturday night. While Heather was cooped up in her own room, eating filet mignon in her queen-sized bed and watching television, thinking about how shitty her life was, Veronica was being taken out of a sinkhole in the middle of the forest, where someone had poorly hidden her under tree leaves and dead branches for a whole week, not even caring enough to give her a proper burial. Courtney said two police officers had shown up at the Sawyer's house on Sunday morning to give the worried parents the horrible news.

On Monday morning, while she was eating breakfast, Heather turned on the news —something she never did because she vehemently believed that the local channel was for boring people with nothing more interesting going on in their lives—, and she learned the remaining details that Courtney's version was lacking because back then no one had those details to give.

They found her body in the woods, the local reporter had said; that Heather already knew. She was a seventeen year old girl who had been missing since leaving a party at around 2 a.m. on a Saturday night; that Heather also knew.

According to the marks on her neck, she had been strangled to death. She was found without any clothes on, with her hands tied up behind her back, and presenting injuries that indicated physical and sexual assault; that Heather hadn't known, and it made her feel sick to her stomach.

For some reason, the reporter insisted in point out that Veronica disappeared after leaving Ram's party —but she didn't reveal his name, of course— or maybe it was just Heather's mind replaying that information over and over.

Veronica was supposed to sleep at her house after the party, so her parents wouldn't find out that she had been drinking. Heather was the reason that she left Ram's house earlier. Heather was the reason that Veronica stumbled upon whoever ended her life. It was her fucking fault.

She left her breakfast practically uneaten, just looking at it made her want to throw up—how ironic, considering how much hell she put Duke through for that exact reason— opting for another aspirin instead, then left her house to go to school.

Her ride to school with McNamara and Duke, usually filled with chatter about the day's lunchtime polls or gossip about other inferior cliques, was completely silent, with the exception of Mac's sniffling from time to time, she blamed it on allergies but Heather knew that was bullshit; of all three of them, the head cheerleader was the one who looked less put together, with her wavy blond curls looking dull and tangled, like she didn't even bother to brush it, her blouse wrinkled, and regardless of the makeup she threw on her face to hide the fact that she had been crying, her puffy eyes and red nose gave her away.

When she had entered the car, Heather looked scared, like she feared Chandler would scold her, cast her out of the group, and force her to hang out at the losers table for daring to look so unkempt; in other situations Heather would have done that without thinking twice, but she decided to cut her some slack, especially after seeing how devastated she had been when Duke gave them the news, refusing to believe her friend and demanding that she'd stopped joking because it wasn't funny until reality hit her and she started crying.

School was hell since the moment the three girls stepped inside Westerburg. Heather could feel people whispering as they passed by, following them with their eyes.

Did you hear?

Yeah, murdered...

I bet it was the boyfriend...

Raped...

Heather threatened her...

They were all brave enough to whisper and gossip, but as soon as Heather turned her head to glare at them, they closed their mouths and feigning innocence. Spineless idiots.

At homeroom, Ms. Fleming, the school counselor was the one who greeted them instead of Mr. Teller, as usual, her overwhelming stench of cheap cigarettes and whatever voodoo crap she was into invading the whole room, making it smell like a hippie incense store.

"Good morning, kids," she said, clasping her hands together loudly, making a few students who were half asleep jolt awake. "As you must know, we have lost one of our dear students, Veronica," she said, and some murmurs from students who hadn't heard the news until then started to rise. "Tragic, really. I know."

"That means Peter probably has a shot as valedictorian now..." some nobody whispered to their friend, and they both chuckled at the stupid comment but they both froze, eyes wide like two deers caught in headlights, when they notice the mythic bitch herself looking at them.

"Did I hear you say something?" Heather asked, craning her head to the side and batting her eyes in fake sweetness.

"N-no...sorry."

"That's what I thought."

She focused on Fleming again, who kept rambling about death and mortality, and how Veronica was such an important member to their school. Just like Heather had done to the couple of pathetic nerds, she felt someone staring at her, and she glanced to the side to see none other than Jason Dean practically boring holes into her head, his eyes cold and dark, and his expression just as somber, making the hairs on Heather's neck stand up. She turned her head again, but still felt JD's eyes glued on her; she tried to ignore him, forcing herself to listen to Pauline's ridiculous speech instead.

"Let's just keep Veronica in our prayers, everyone," Fleming said as the grand finale of what she certainly thought was an award winning speech.

What's the point? Heather thought. She's already fucking dead.