Musical One Shots, Imagines and Preferences (Requests Closed)

Beautiful - Heathers

September 1st, 1989
Dear Diary,
I believe I'm a good person. I believe that's there's good in everyone, but here we are. First day of senior year! And I look around at these kids that I've known all my life and I ask myself, what happened?

"Freak!"
"Slut!"
"Burn out!"
"Bug eyes!"
"Poser!"
"Lard ass!"

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased.

"Freak!"
"Slut!"
"Loser!"
"Short bus!"

Singing and clapping, laughing and napping, baking cookies, eating paste.

"Bull dyke!"
"Stuck up!"
"Hunchback!"

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger, like the Huns invading Rome.

You manage to wander into a couple making out. They give you death glares.
"Oh, sorry!" you run off.

Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school, this is the Thunderdome. Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon.

"White trash!" someone yells at you.

College will be paradise if I'm not dead by June. But I know life can be beautiful. I prey for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change back then, we can be beautiful.

You see some hipster looking guy being pushed over by some jock.
"Ow," the hipster moans.
"Just not today," you whisper to yourself. You run over to the hipster and offer your hand.
"Hey, are you ok?"
He pushes your hand away and gets up.
"Get away, nerd!" he shouts at you.
"Oh, ok," you say to yourself. You make your way to the cafeteria and grab a lunch tray.

Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke or Brown. Wake from this coma, take my diploma, then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy covered walls and smokey French cafes.

"Watch this," you hear someone say behind you.

Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze!

Your lunch tray is knocked out of your hands by Ram Sweeney. You just manage to save your diary.
"Oops," he says sarcastically. You mumble to yourself as you write about him.

Ram Sweeney. Third year as linebacker and eighth year of smacking lunch trays, and being a huge DICK!

"What did you say to me, skank?" Ram takes a slightly threatening step towards you.
"Ah, nothing," you say quickly. Ram gives you a meaningful death glare as he turns around.

But I know life can be beautiful. I prey for a better way. We were kind before, we can be kind once more, we can be beautiful.

"Aagh!" you turn around to see your best friends behind you, "hey Martha."
"Hey," she says. She leans down and grabs your lunch tray.

Martha Dunnstock. My best friend since diapers. She has a huge heart, but around here, that's not enough.

"Thanks," she hands you back your tray.
"We still on for movie night?" she asks.
"Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail," you reply.
"I rented 'The Princess Bride'."
"Ho-ho-ho. Again? Wait, don't you have it memorised by now?"
"What can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending."
"Martha Dumptruck! Wide load!" Kurt Kelly knocks Martha's tray out of her hands, "Honnnnk! Haha!"

Kurt Kelly. Quarterback. He is the smartest guy on the football team, which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

Kurt hi-fives Ram.
"Hey! Pick that up! Right now!" you shout at Kurt.
"I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?" Kurt takes a step towards you, but you stand your ground.
"My buddy Kurt just asked you a question," Ram appears behind Ram.
"Yes, I am. I wanna 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," you say.
"You have a zit right there," Kurt points at your chin and pushes you back. The students laugh at you.

"Dear diary... why?"
"Why do they hate me?"
"Why don't I fight back?"
"Why do I act like such a creep?"
"Why won't he date me?"
"Why did I hit him?"
"Why do I cry myself to sleep?"

"Somebody hug me."
"Somebody fix me."
"Send me a sign, God."
"Gimme some hope, here."
"Something to live for."

The doors to the cafeteria open and you watch as the Heathers was in.

The blonde girl in yellow walks in first.

Heather MacNamara. Head cheerleader. Her dad is LOADED, he sells engagement rings.

The dark haired girl in green enters next.

Heather Duke. Runs the yearbook. No discernible personality but her mom did pay for implants.

The light haired girl in red walks in last.

And Heather Chandler. The Almighty. She is a mythic bitch.

They're solid Teflon. Never bothered, never harassed. I'd give anything to be like that.

"I'd like to be their boyfriend."

"If I sat at their table, guys would notice me."

"I'd like them to be nicer."

"I'd like to kidnap a Heather and photograph her naked in an abandoned warehouse and leave her tied up for the rats."

Everyone looks to the guy who said that and he runs off. The bell goes soon after and you head to the bathroom to tidy yourself up.

You see the Heathers in the bathroom and you stand as far away from them as you can. You hear Heather Duke vomiting in one of the bathroom stalls.
"Gr0w up, Heather. Bulimia is so '87," Chandler says.
"Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather," MacNamara says.
"Yeah, Heather, maybe I should," Duke says. The door swings open and Miss Fleming walks in.
"Ah, Heather and Heather," Duke vomits again, "and Heather. Perhaps you didn't heat the bell over all the vomiting. You're late for class."
You quickly grab a fake hall pas and start filling it in.
"Heather wasn't feeling well. We're helping her," Chandler says in a fake sweet voice.
"Not without a hall pass you're not. Weeks detention," Miss Fleming turns to leave but you hand her the pass before she gets out.
"Actually, Miss Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass. Yearbook committee," you say. She studies the note.
"I see you're all listed. Hurry up and get where you're going," she hands you back the pass and leaves. The Heathers approach you and Chandler grabs the note.
"This is an excellent forgery. Who are you?" she asks.
"Uh, (Y/N). (Y/L/N). I-I crave a boon," you stutter.
"What boon?" she asks.
"Um, let me sit at your table. At lunch, just once, no talking necessary. If people think that you guys tolerate me then they'll leave me alone," you say. They laugh as they go to leave.
"Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes."
"How about prescriptions?" Duke asks.
"Shut up, Heather," Chandler snaps.
"Sorry Heather."
"For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure," Chandler says.
"And a symmetrical face. If I took a meat cleaver down the centre of your skull, I'd have matching halves. That's very important," MacNamara comments.
"Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds," Duke says. Chandler grabs your chin and tilts your head around.
"And you know, this could be beautiful. Mascara, maybe some lip gloss, and we're on our way. Get this girl some blush, and Heather, I need your brush. Let's make her beautiful," she lets you go.
"Let's make her beautiful," MacNamara says.
"Let's make her beautiful," Duke says.
"Make her beautiful. Okay?" Chandler asks.
"Okay!" you say excitedly.

After getting a makeover and a new outfit, you are ready. The final bell rings, and you get ready to head out to Chandler's car. You leave the school one by one. MacNamara first, then Duke, then Chandler. You leave last.
"(Y/N)?" you hear Martha say. The students start chanting your name.
"And you know, life can be beautiful. You hope you dream, you prey, and you get your way! Ask me how it feels looking like hell on wheels. My God, its beautiful. I might be beautiful. And when you're beautiful, its a beautiful freakin' day!" you jump around excitedly as the students chant your name along with the Heathers. They pull you towards Chandler's car. You sit for the rest of the journey with a huge grin on your face. You made it. You're popular and beautiful.