The Devil's Advocate

Four

VERONICA

6 years earlier...

The cafeteria bristled with noise. The sound of cutlery clinking together mixed up with the sound of students loudly talking over each other. Amongst the students were the Heathers, occupying a table in the middle of the room, at the center of it all, like they perceived themselves to be.

Veronica neared their table when they were mid conversation. Heather Duke, the one less invested in whatever the other two are discussing, looked up from her lunch tray and nodded her head to Veronica, acknowledging her presence. Next to her, Heather McNamara was incessantly tapping her long, yellow nails on the table.

"Please, Heather, just tell me!" she begged, eyes glued on Heather Chandler who groaned, annoyed.

"No!"

"Tell you what?" Veronica asked, taking a bite of her pizza.

"Nothing," Heather Chandler said. "Just ignore her. She's being extra irritating today."

"We're talking about Heather's mystery man," McNamara wiggled her eyebrows maliciously and earned herself another displeased look from her friend, but if she noticed, she chose to ignore it.

"Her mystery man?" Veronica repeated with the raise of an eyebrow.

"Don't encourage her," Heather Chandler said. Had Duke been the one to bother her like that, Chandler would have already put her in her place, but since McNamara was in a much more favorable position, all she gets is annoyed looks and sour comments instead.

"Please, you can't arrive here with a hickey like that and expect us not to say anything," McNamara refuted.

Veronica hadn't seen the damage until it was mentioned, but looking at Heather's neck, at a spot an inch or so to the right of her earlobe, she could see the purple mark peeking through the strand of her ginger hair.

"Damn, Heather..." she said with a smirk, adding fuel to the fire for no reason but to make her morning more fun. She always got a kick out of annoying Heather sometimes. "Does it hurt?"

Veronica poked the angry bruise with her finger, and Heather swat her hand almost immediately. "If you touch it like that, then yes," she said, angrily attempting to cover her neck with her hair. "Ugh, I didn't see it this morning. Otherwise, I would have put on some makeup to cover it."

Veronica snorted. A distressed and jumbled Heather Chandler was a rare sight to see, but boy, was it a fun one. "I think I have some concealer in my locker. I'll give it to you after lunch."

"OK, now that that's settled..." Heather McNamara jumped into the conversation again. From the look on her face, she was not keen on letting the subject go yet. "Can we go back to what's important here? Who did this to you?"

"It's none of your business," Chandler refuted with a fake smile.

"Come on, Heather. This is the only interesting thing going on in my life right now," Mac said dramatically.

"That is the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard," Chandler mocked. 

"Maybe you need a mystery boyfriend, Heather," Duke said, not bothering to look up from the book she's reading. Moby Dick, of course. Whatever Herman Mellvile has got to say, Duke found it more interesting than the conversation in front of her.

"Ugh, you're damn right I do. My love like is so boring..." as McNamara spopke, a scrawny guy passed by their table. Veronica didn't recall his name, but she recognized him as one of the nerdy prudes who usually sat with Rodney and his friends, talking about comics and college aplications all day, far away from everyone else, in the Siberia of the lunch room. The guy recoiled when he noticed he's near them, as if he's passing by a group of lionesses, and he feared they'll attack if he got too close.