Meant to be Yours (ChanSaw)

Chapter 1 (Veronica)

September 1st, 2017;

Dear Diary,
Here we are. First day of senior year! Not exactly hyped; I could never get hyped up for school. I am excited to see Martha more often! Senior year, here I come... I guess.

I look at the doors of Westerburg High, standing ajar as students flow in and out. I wipe the film of sweat forming on my hands onto my jacket and trudge foreword.

I'm barely through the doors and already wish I could turn back. Huge, meat-headed jocks stuffing scrawny nerds into lockers. I swallow hard and continue down the hall hurriedly, avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone. It's not long before I bump into someone.

"Gah!" I cry out as I fall backwards to the ground.

"Out of my way, geek!" The boy calls, but I'm already speed walking down the hall. I duck into my first block class.

"This is going to be harder than I thought," I mumble to myself.

***

Lunchtime, the bane of my existence. I walk swiftly to the lunch line, ordering a 'chicken' sandwich. I make my way to the back corner of the cafeteria, dodging people the whole way.

I look ahead to see Martha Dunstock, my best friend since... forever. I take a seat next to her.

"Hey, Veronica!" she says, smiling.

"Hey Martha," I respond, "Are we still on for movie night?"

She nods, and begins ranting and raving about The Princess Bride for the nth time. I roll my eyes, smiling lightly. I'm only half listening when I hear a tray clatter to the ground -- Martha's lunch tray. I look up.

Ram Sweeny. Third year linebacker, and eighth year of smacking lunch trays... and being a huge dick.

"Martha Dumptruck! Wide Load!" I hear from my left, and before I knew it Kurt Kelly was behind me and kicking Martha's lunch across the floor. "Hooooonk!"

The two goons laugh at their own joke (if you can call their actions 'jokes'). I feel anger bubble up inside me and before I knew it I was on my feet and in Kurt's face.

"Hey! Pick that up, right now!" I spit.

Kurt scoffs, leaning over me, "I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?"

I feel a twinge of fear, but its too late to turn back now. "Yes I am. I want to know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You're a high school has-been waiting to happen; a future gas station attendant."

I feel proud of my roast, but I'm only met with an ugly smirk. "You have a zit right there."

I feel my face heat up as the crowd that gathered (when did that happen?) began pointing and laughing at me.

Their laughter dies out as I sulk toward the doors of the cafeteria, planning to make my escape to the bathroom. I take a step back when the doors slam open, practically in my face.

The Heathers strut in.

The cafeteria noise level dips 70%. People are running from the door; I should probably be one of them.