Heathers Oneshots!

general summer camp. [UNFINISHED.]

"Initiation?" Veronica sputtered in the darkness of the room. "What–what is it?" She questioned, visibly unsure.

One of her three dorm-mates, Heather Duke let out a bitter laugh. "Jesus, don't act so paranoid. We aren't going to kill you."

The teen stared back, dazed. Okay. Okay. She had joined this camp nearly—what—a month ago? There was already a social higharchy at Westerberg Summer Camp it seemed. Similar to a Highschool, the rugged camp ground was cluttered with cliques.

The 'nerds', goths, good kids, jocks. You name it. And then—there was the Heathers. That one girl in your class, with an all too expensive car and an overly short skirt. But, name her Heather. Then multiply her by three then change the color of her clothes to either green, yellow, or red.

Perhaps they had came there with an advantage, already knowing each other before hand. All lived in same town, Sherwood. Veronica, on the other hand, had only come here with one person.

Martha Dunnstock. The duo didn't exactly seem to be 'Heathers' material, sitting in the back of the lunch room. The ones to get last pick at activities.

And then, suddenly, Martha had left. Family emergency.

Poof.

Then there was only one. Veronica Sawyer. She suddenly got shifty glances, but not bad ones.

Not just from jocks though. She caught her—Heather McNamara, casting her looks throughout dinner. Lunch. Breakfast. On the hikes. When Veronica, as fit as she was, wasn't exactly one for 'climbing' or 'running up sharp angled hills' if you will and ended up trailed behind.

It had been last Saturday, on another hell wrenching hike. It was burning out, everyone in skin clinging tank tops and shorts, even though it resulted in twigs and leaves tugging at their bare, sunburned skin.

Veronica gulped in air, gasping from the bottom half of the pathway. She squeezed her eyes shut. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps shifting through the dusty floor hit her ears.

"Do you need water?"

"What?" Veronica choked out, glaring up through the slits of her eyes.

"Water, Sawyer." McNamara huffed, holding a bottle out towards her. "Do you need some?" Her blue eyes flickered down to the other's empty one.

"Oh," she coughed gently, wavering to her feet. "I'm—I'm okay."

Heather gave a lopsided smile, pitiful. Her breathing was deep, out of breath too. The girl's freckled cheeks in a semi-permanent blush from a sunburn. "You look like you're about to pass out," she gestured forward.

"And you're out of breath."

"Oh please," she scoffed, shoving the bottle into Veronica's arms. "I'm fine. I've been a cheerleader since eighth grade. I have some stamina. Hiking just isn't really my thing." She gulped.

"Thanks." Veronica sighed, pushing herself up and snapping off the lid to take a swig. "Yeah, I'm more of a swimming person myself." She gave a meek smile.