Modern Heathers

Chapter One: September First

September 1, 2020
Dear Diary, I believe that I'm a good person. I really do. Everyone has to have some good in them, right?
I'd like to continue thinking that. Even though I know it isn't true. I mean, look around. Wake up, Veronica. I can't even walk down the hall without insults being thrown in my face.

"Veronica!" I looked up to see Betty running at me, her hair a complete disaster and her glasses crooked. "Veronica, guess what happened!"

I gave a slight laugh. "What?"

She bounced on the tips of her toes, her ginger hair flowing in her face. "I got it! I finally got it! A new laptop!"

"Sweet," I said, hitting her lightly on the shoulder. She was a few inches shorter than me and I had to look down slightly. "That's so cool. You wanna hang later? Play Xbox?"

She grinned. "Yeah, see you there!" Betty straightened her glasses before quickly heading to her next class.

I reopened my leather-bound diary, uncapping the pen with my teeth.

What sucks most about this stupid school? I hate it all. I can't begin to name what's really the worst. Maybe it's the crazy teachers. Maybe the jocks. Maybe the stereotypes. Maybe-

I had lunch this hour and as I stepped into the cafeteria I instantly knew I was dead.

It's the Heathers. Definitely the Heathers.

The three most popular girls in Westerburg high. Heather, Heather, and Heather.

Heather Chandler, the leader of the gang, was standing in front of my usual table. I was one of the last people to get to lunch this hour and then rest of the tables were full. Shit.

Everything about her screamed I'm a bitch and I know it. Her perfectly straight, long blond hair was pulled into an elegant pony tail with a simple red bow. Her blouse was a gorgeous white off the shoulder top with red trim. Ripped jeans and red converses. She looked way too preppy and happy to be natural.

I put my head down as I grabbed my lunch tray and tried to sit down without her noticing me. But she did.

The one time someone notices me. Just my fucking luck.

"Hey, you," She said, quickly, coming up beside me with a clipboard. "I'm taking a list of names for people going to the school dance next month."

"I don't think I'm going," I said quietly, hunching my shoulders reflexively.

"Why ever not," she said, getting right in my face. "Aren't you going to show some school spirit?"

I looked at my shoes, dirty scuffed up Nikes. Heather always asked for who was going to school events and I always said no. I doubt she ever even learned my name, but she definitely recognized me as the greasy little nobody who never came to dances, never went to Homecoming, never went anywhere. The way it's always been, since freshman year.

"No, Heather, sorry," I mumbled into my food.

She rolled her eyes and waltzed over to the next table. I breathed a quick sigh of relief.