Dead Girl Walking || Heathers Modern AU || mango_maya

Chapter One

Trigger Warning - Eating disorders and bullying are found in this chapter of Dead Girl Walking. Please read at your own discretion.

AN - This is my first published fanfic. I hope y'all enjoy.

Veronica Sawyer

Dear Diary,

I hate this fucking school. Everyone here sucks. Except for Martha and Betty, that is. The only comfort I find is in listening to Panic @ The Disco and imagining what college will be like. I want to get accepted into Harvard so I can blow this popsicle stand.

"Veronica?"

"Hey, Martha." I close my journal.

"You were totally in your own world. You didn't hear me say your name the first time." Martha laughs.

"I get into my writing."

"So, have you made any process on our robot?" Martha asks.

"No, I was swamped with that essay last night," I respond.

"Oh, right," She sighs.

"Douche alert." I slam my locker closed.

Crowds part as Ram and Kurt walk down the hall. The stars of the football team. I hate them both.

"Martha Dumptruck!" Ram yells as he passes.

"Real original." I roll my eyes.

"What'd you say to me?" He turns on me and Martha.

"I mean, you can't even think of a better insult than the one you've used since the sixth grade?" I cross my arms over my flannel. "Just leave my friends alone."

"Sure, goth girl." Ram laughs as he walks away.

"Thanks, Veronica." Martha sighs.

"Yeah, of course."

The bell rings.

"See you after later." Martha turns and walks away, her head down like a dog that's been kicked.

I sit down at my usual desk in English, my headphones on. After 25 minutes, I raise my hand.

"Mr. Anderson, may I use the restroom?"

"Sure, Miss Sawyer. Just take the pass with you." Mr. Anderson doesn't even look up from his work.

I grab my backpack and walk out of class, hall pass in hand. I stand in a stall for a moment, just tired of this school.

Dear Diary,

I do miss the old days when everyone was friends with everyone. We used to be kind to one another, and now kids like Ram and Kurt get to go around, harassing anyone they choose. It's not fair.

The door to the bathroom swings open and three girls enter. The Heathers.

"Heather, hand me that highlighter, I want to take some Instagram pictures at break," Heather Chandler commands.

Heather Chandler is the top of the food chain at Westerburg. I would call her the b-word, cause she is one, but that word is very misogynistic, and we aren't about that.

"Yes, Heather," Heather Duke's shrill, nervous voice echoes.

Heather Duke doesn't have a personality. I think she might be a robot. She follows Heather C's every order as if her life depends on it.

"Wait, why did you need to do that now?" Heather MacNamara, the final Heather, asks.

And then there is Heather MacNamara. I get the feeling that she isn't really all that mean. She just goes along with them. It's unfortunate what kids will do to get through high school.