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

6- The funeral

October 7th, 1989. Saturday.

(14 says after Veronica Sawyer's murder.)

The funeral happened five days later.

Sherwood was a small town, and events like weddings and funerals were always stacked with people that barely knew whoever was throwing them but wanted to pay their condolences anyway (or wanted an excuse to get out of the house and be in on the gossip).

Heather didn't know how many of those people actually knew Veronica, but everyone in town had heard about her disappearance and later on about her body being found, so she wasn't surprised to see so many people.

From school, she recognized some members of the geek squad, Tracy and her stoner friends, Kurt and Ram, all of the country club kids, the nerds from the AV club, the school's newspaper, the yearbook committee; she saw Martha Dunnstock and Betty Finn seating in the corner, both wearing black and with huge looking tears, thanks to their respective glasses; unlike the rest of the westerbug students present, who all lookes like they were only there to gain their 5 minutes of attention — oh yes, I was good friends with Veronica, we did a history project in 7th grade once, they would say — the pair looked absolutely devastated, having only each other as comfort as they mourned their lost friend.

Heather McNamara and Heather Duke were already there, and they waved at Heather to sit at the spot they had saved for her as soon as they caught sight of her entering the church. Heather complied and sat where they had chosen, even though she would have picked a row in the back, far from everything and everyone. Far away from one friend in particular, the one inside the wooden casket.

McNamara greeted her with a sad smile and a face with barely no makeup, except for the mascara already staining her underyes black; Duke didnt look much better and Chandler was sure she didnt either, despite the pounds of makeup she put on her face to hide the sleepless nights.

Heather saw Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer at the front, who were being comforted by people that Heather didn't know but guessed were part of the Sawyer family. Veronica's dad looked devastated, he looked like he hadn't shaved in days, his eyes were red and the bags under his eyes were so dark it looked like he had been punched; Heather could see him clutching something in his hand, a very tiny stuffed bear, small enough that he could wrap his whole hand around it, with a blue bow wrapped around its neck, it looked like one day it been white but now it was grimy and old, and from time to time Mr Sawyer would look at it, or bring it close to his face to smell it and the tears in his eyes would appear again, Heather didnt have to be a genius to know it belonged to Veronica when she was little.

Mrs. Sawyer, on the other hand, seemed pretty out of it. She looked as disheveled as her husband but didnt carry the same sad ridden expression as he did, she just looked lost, like her body was there but her mind and her soul were somewhere else; probably in the coffin with her dead child.

"Her mom had a panic attack a few minutes ago. It was awful," McNamara said in a low voice. "I think they gave her something to calm her down."

Heather couldn't help but wonder how her parents would react if she had been the one to die instead of Veronica. Would they even miss her? Would they have a breakdown in front of everyone because the thought of living without her was too much to bear? Would they cling to her old stuff to try to keep her memory alive, or would they sell everything that was hears? Would they even care?

Heather tried to not, but eventually she looked at the wooden casket being displayed near the church altar, a wreath of baby's breath and blue chrysanthemums and lilies on top of it, and inside of it, one of Heather's best friend.

The Sawyers had opted for a closed casket, which was understandable; Heather guessed Veronica didn't look very pretty, but still, she wished she could see her one last time; to try to erase the memory of their last interaction, of Veronica looking so angry and betrayed at her, Heather didnt want that to be the last image she had of her friend.

"I have to retouch my makeup," Heather said, and she got up before Heahter and Heather could react, she wanst even sure they heard her properly.

Heather hastily opened the bathroom door and scanned it to make sure she was alone. To her luck, the bathroom was indeed empty. Heather ran to one of the stalls and kneeled down on the floor, throwing up all of her breakfast on the toilet. The foul taste on Heather's mouth and the horrible feeling on her gut made her eyes water, and she could feel herself shaking.

Heather grabbed a handful of toilet paper and wiped her mouth clean. Her body felt weak against the cold —and disgusting— bathroom tile, and before Heather could even notice, she was crying.

Heather bit her lips as hard as she could to control it, her long nails pressed hard against her sweating palms to stop herself from crying. How pathetic she was, sobbing, all by herself, in a filthy church bathroom.

She got up and out of the bathroom stall towards the sink, her kitten heels making a headache indicating clancking sound with every step.

Heather looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like hell, with bags under her eyes, runny mascara red lipstick smuged. Quickly, she fixed herself up, then filled her hands with tap water to get rid of that acrid taste in her mouth.

She bent over slightly to spit the water. When she lifted her head up again, her eyes met with someone else staring at her in the mirror.

Veronica was wearing the same clothes she wore to Ram's party. That navy blue dress with the long sleeve shirt underneath and the expensive brooch Heather had given her because she couldn't accessorize for shit.

Veronica's face was stoic, and Heather could almost feel her staring into her soul.

"This is all your fault," Veronica said.

Before Heather would say something, the bathroom door swung open, and Heather turned her head to see Mac entering.

"Oh, there you are," Mac said, looking relieved. "You were gone for a while. We were worried. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Heather answered.

"Come one, let's get back to our seats," McNmara offered her a hand and a gentle smile.

Heather followed her, but before she exited the bathroom, she turned her head to get another glance of it. But Veronica wasn't there anymore.