HEATHERS (the musical oneshots)

The Cigarette Talk

"Oh my God, girl, who are you?"

"Nobody."

"Nobody?"

"Somebody."

"Who are you?"

"Veronica Sawyer."

"Fuck, girl, we need to fix you up - - you're hideous."

- -

I stare at my reflection in our schools low-quality, cracked bathroom mirrors. My hair is curled - properly, for once - and I'm dressed in a blue blazer and a mini-skirt.

They've doused me head-to-toe in their essence with sixties style "twiggy" mascara, faint blush, uncomfortable lipgloss, and pale blue eyeshadow.

Christ on a crutch - I look like hell - but I look sexier than ever. I would fuck myself.

"I would fuck you too, Veronica."

The Heathers all giggle - a snarky, popular girl giggle - and it takes me a second to realize that first, I said the last bit out loud, and second, Heather Chandler said she would fuck me.

The Heathers smile, continue to giggle, and strut out the door. Chandler stops in her tracks and spins on her heels.

"Are you coming?" She asks, arms crossed.

I nod frantically and run to follow her, nearly tripping in my brand-new heels.

~

We're sitting outside today for lunch, and none of us are wearing our blazers - though they're all draped over the lunch table or the benches.  Usually, on hot days like this, we do wear our blazers, but today is the kind of nice hot out. It's serene, the sun on our backs.

I'm sitting next to Chandler and the four of us are laughing at a joke Heather MacNamara brewed up, and then a boy - far too familiar -  approaches us.

With the too hot trench-coat and the flannel underneath, it's hard not to notice that the boy is Jason Dean. Somehow, he's managing to be outside in the hot of the summer, in his same old get-up; the trench-coat and all. I pull my hair into a ponytail.

"Do you need something?" Duke snaps, rolling her eyes as she talks - revealing a flash of green on her eyes - and sips her soda.

"I'm doing a poll."

I'm the one to roll my eyes this time - - Jason Dean doesn't do polls. That's not his thing. It's ours. "Okay? And?"

"Okay. If you were an ugly nobody, and you had an opportunity to become rich, popular, hot, get laid and stoned - but become a total bitch and leave all your old friends behind, would you?"

We all laugh - I picked up on the girly giggle as well. We all nod - though one of the Heathers hesitates - and spit scattered agreements.

"Of course - - because you're the Heathers. But you, you're new, aren't you, Veronica?" As he turns to me, I see beads of sweat dripping down his face, and I grimace. "Are you a Heather now?"

I groan - - J.D. knows the answer to this question. People always ask me this question and I always say the same thing.

"No, Jason Dean. I'm a Veronica - - Sawyer."

Again, we all break into laughter, and Jason Dean pulls out a cigarette, lighting it in front of us.

"Ew, smoke somewhere else." Chandler hisses, as she always does - - despite the facts she does the same thing.