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

12- Dead girl walking

September 23rd. Saturday.
(20 minutes before Veronica Sawyer's murder)

As Veronica stumbled, the first drops of rain started to fall. The loud thunders rumbling every other minute and the not so gentle breeze were announcements that the storm that had been brewing all evening was coming. Shaking and rubbing her hands on her cold, naked arms, Veronica cursed herself for wearing nothing but a short dress for the party.

Apart from a small number of cars sporadically passing by, the streets of Sherwood were empty, with most of the houses dark and silent, their residents sound asleep in their rooms. It was 2 in the morning, after all.

Running her hands through her disheveled hair - the beautiful curls Mac had spent over an hour doing were gone, leaving her with something akin to a rat's nest, Veronica recalled what had happened at the party. She was having a good time. How did things escalate so quickly?

Veronica could almost picture Heather Chandler and her little minions coming up with the most humiliating way to ruin her life. She had 30 hours before she would have to face the demon queen's wrath.

Veronica was so done with Heather, that goddam bitch, and her stupid reindeer games.

As she walked, Veronica contemplated her options. She couldn't keep roaming around the city, it was late, she was still drunk and the rain was getting heavier. Going home was also not an alternative; her parents thought she was having a sleepover at Martha's, if they found out the truth she would be grounded for the rest of the year.

Ok, technically she didn't lie. She was planning on having a sleepover, just at Chandler's house instead of Martha's; which reminded her that her bag of clothes was still inside Heather's Porsche.

Guess I'll never see those again. There goes the pretty black shirt I loved so much... she thought.

With no other choice, she decided to go to JD's house. It was only a couple of blocks away and although it was a Saturday night, Veronica was certain her boyfriend was home, probably in bed with a thick book and a reheated ham and cheese from the 7-11. JD would be thrilled to hear she was officially done with the Heathers, even if that meant her getting socially executed come Monday. He didn't care about those things, he felt himself above all this high school bullshit, while Veronica was thoroughly engulfed in it.

When she arrived, she saw JD's motorbike parked on the front lawn, reassuring her that he was indeed home. Normally, Veronica would climb through his window like she had done many times in the year they had been dating, but she doubted she had enough motor coordination to do that while drunk. It was better to avoid a concussion or broken neck so she knocked on the front door, like a normal person, for once.

Expecting JD to be the one to welcome her, she was surprised to see Big Bud Dean at the other side of the door.

"Oh! Hi, Mr. Dean," she said shyly, instantly regretting her decision to show up unannounced.

"Hello, sweetheart," he replied, looking a bit confused as to why he was opening the door to a drunken, soaking-wet teenager at 2 a.m.

While she always acted politely towards him, Veronica wasn't the biggest fan of JD's father. His inappropriate comments and overall creepy attitude always made her uncomfortable and she had to fight the urge to shiver every time he looked at her. She remembered when she met him for the first time, how JD stiffened after hearing him come in, urging Veronica to leave as if he were scared to have her in the same room as his father.

"I know it's late, but I really need to talk to JD," she continued. She stood in the doorway shaking, her dripping hair and wet boots doing nothing to help with the cold.