Heathers (but it's written by a gay British teenager)

Chapter 4: If you had 5 million dollars.

No'
'Bold of you to assume you have a choice, Sawyer.'
'Bold of you to assume I would do it Heather! I have no reason to. I want no part in your taunting little questions that make no fucking sense.'
Shit.
'Sawyer.' Chandler's eyes narrowed, and she cocked her head to the side, motioning towards the topic in question: a haughty boy, glaring at anyone who walked past with a slightly amused, slightly brazen expression, before turning back to the book opened on the table in front of him.
'You can take him.'
Veronica turned back to Heather and scowled.
'You want me to ask your stupid poll to the emo kid?'
Chandler's eyes met Sawyer's, the smug crinkling the corners of them, and clapped her hands together in a sarcastic approval of Veronica's enthusiasm.
'Congrats Sawyer, you can put two and two together' She roughly grabbed Veronica by the shoulders and twisted her around to face the target of her next attack.
Duke, tentatively, stepped forward to stand next to Veronica. 'His name's Jason. At least according to Mac. Apparently he's in her American History class. Proper shitshow, very overconfident. He's a fucking mess. I mean-'
'Hey! Duke I did not call him a shitshow. Stop lying to Ronnie!'
'Yeah, technically you didn't but you implied it.
'Did not!'
Veronica sighed - Duke and Macnamara's back and forth was a daily occurrence at this point. Mostly it was about stupid shit.
Actuallv it's alwavs about dumb shit. Duke says something, Mac gets upset.
Duke's furious insults faded out under the sound of Chandler's heels tapping on the floor impatiently, the echoing of the thick platform on the cold stone floor signalling for them to finish up before she blew up on one of them.
'Just shut up the both of you before I cram whatever-his-name's book in your face!
'His name's Jason.'
"Shut up Heather.'
'Sorry Heather'
Veronica rolled her eyes, and attempted to roll her shoulders away from the grasp of Chandler, which only caused her nails to dig deeper in. Veronica could feel the perfectly pointed rim of them through the shoulder pads of her blazer.
'Anyway, Sawyer. Go up to him, ask him the question, get the answer and get out before his audacity rubs off on you'
'Don't you worry Chandler, you have enough audacity, it won't affect you'

Veronica could feel the growing pit of knots writhing in her stomach, feeling Heather's eye boring into her. She flashed what she prayed was a confident smile but the current worry clawing at her made her doubt that she didn't look clinically insane.
God, Sawyer get it together for fucks sake. Ask him the question and fuck off. He can hardly judge you. Stop being so fucking anxious.
That's really not helping.
Shut up and do it.
I'm starting to sound like Heather.
What, the one you called pretty?
Oh my god, bring that up one more time and I swear I will blow myself up.
Love how you're trying to prove a point-
'Fuck'
Veronica doubled over in pain as her shin collided with the hardened metal bars of the table. Rubbing the area she'd injured in a pathetic attempt to ease the pain, she glanced back at the group of 'friends' supervising her little outing to the other end of the cafeteria. Shit.
Duke was laughing, snorting herself into tears, clutching onto Macnamara's shoulder, who was joining in the peals of laughter with a slight giggle - an unsuccessful attempt at sounding not hollow. Surprisingly, Heather wasn't also laughing, but glaring at the other two clones of her. Maybe she was just pissed Duke was happy? Honestly that made more sense.
Veronica grimaced and turned her head to the people sitting at the table she'd gracefully throw herself at. Emo kid.
Okay, maybe she was being a bit prejudice. He was just dressed in black for fucks sake. He probably was a lovely person. Maybe.
Steading her raging breathing and straightening herself up, she grinned shakily. 'Hi.'
'Greetings and salutations'
Veronica felt the sudden urge to vomit in her mouth.
Not sure if it's the fact my insides currently feel like they are continuing the Great War or because he just unironically said that.
'You a Heather?'
Veronica looked at him in panic as she realised she'd just missed every word 'Jason from Mac's American History' had enlightened her with.
Sighing, lowing the clipboard she was holding, and cursing herself mentally, she found herself staring at him. Looking at him. Properly.
'God, I'm sorry. What did you just say?'
'Are you a Heather? Part of the clan of traffic lights currently watching over you with an iron grip?' Jason sat back in his chair, smirking.
Veronica couldn't tell if she wanted to slap him for making her feel so stupid or laugh with him about her own stupidity.
Shit. Deny Sawyer.
'No...' Veronica could feel herself stuttering and hated it. The seconds-long gap in between her replies burned as painfully as her shin.
Breathe.
'I- I'm a Veronica.'
'Veronica?' He leaned forward, towards the shaking girl standing facing him.
"I don't think you're a bad person.'
Veronica breathed for the first time in what felt like an age, before staring at him confused, waiting for some context on his statement.
'Of course, I've not known you long. From what I saw of your little outburst,' he continued, 'you seem like someone worth more than those here credit you for.'
'Thanks?'
'I think your friends are though, bad people that is. Does everyone who comes to this school pick a colour to make their personality or is it just assigned at the door?'
He smiled, a non-sarcastic, genuine attempt at charming smile.
And Veronica returned it.
'That's a stupid question'

Veronica could feel the knot in her stomach slowly lessen, until the clanking on thick platforms on the greasy cafeteria tiles echoed in her direction, and Jason peered behind her, glaring at the person closing in on them.
He looked back at Veronica, noting her silent prayer that it wasn't who they both knew it was.
'Sawyer.' Chandler's silvery voice grated at Veronica's ears, who was debating between slapping her to the ground or turning to face her.
She chose the latter.
'Heather..' Veronica could hear the distain in her own tone, and by how fast Chandler reached out and grabbed her, so did she.
Veronica squirmed, feeling the 'iron grip' of Chandler drag her unwillingly away, forcing her towards the other recruits of the cult.
'When I tell you to ask someone the poll, Sawyer,'
Veronica inhaled, preparing for the hurl of insults Chandler had specifically laid out for her.
'I expect you to ask them the fucking poll, not flirt with them.'
Veronica almost choked, gasping for air, and feeling a sudden rush of blood to her cheeks.
'I - I was not flirting with Jason!'
She whipped her head around to face Duke and MacNamara for help, but Duke was failing to hold back her laughter once again and MacNamara was up in some dreamland. Turning back to Chandler, she registered the snake- like scowl on her face, and winced.
' I, don't like Jason. You're wrong Heather.'
Even she could see there was no chance they'd be convinced.
'God Sawyer' Heather stepped forward and crossed her arms over her chest. 'I thought you'd given up on high school guys. And then you see some mystery guy. Drool much?'
Okay, she's definitely not convinced.
'It doesn't matter away,' Heather unfurled her arms and narrowed her eyes. ' I got Ram and Kurt to deal with him.'
'Heather? What the fuck did you get them to-'
Veronica was cut off by a deafening bang and then silence.
Shit. Shit. No, no, no
Veronica knew that noise all too well. There was no way she couldn't convince herself it wasn't.
Slowly turning her head, she saw the red-jacketed backs of Heather's toy Jocks, and the blackened figure of Jason, holding the glistening silver of a gun.