heathers

McNamara wasn’t sure she wanted to face the entire student body after Mrs. Fleming’s disastrous attempt to bring everyone together. She could, she was still a goddamn Heather, but actually wanting to was an entirely different story. Because now Duke would be sitting in the crowd, watching her cheer as if she hadn’t just tried to overdose in the school bathroom the day prior, and no doubt still laughing to herself over McNamara’s tears, all while Veronica eyed her with pity. She shook her head as she pushed open the door to the girls’ locker room. She couldn’t think about that now, she had a pep rally to get ready for.

Already something was wrong. The usual buzz of pre-pep rally excitement was near nonexistent, instead leaving a nervous air about the locker room. McNamara hardly glanced at her cheerleaders when she entered. If she was being honest, she had never been that fond of them anyway. She trusted them, she kind of had to, and they were nice enough, but she had never clicked with them the way she had hoped. McNamara busied herself with stashing her duffel bag full of post-pep rally clothes inside a locker. She hardly noticed that the nervous air had transformed into whispering, and she chose to ignore how everyone kept stealing glances at her when they thought she wasn’t looking. Eventually it became too much, and McNamara whipped around on them.

“What?!” she snapped. “Why is everyone staring at me?!”

“Heather…” one of the underclassmen said gently. “Are you okay?”

Brief panic flitted across her face, but she told herself she was just being ridiculous. Veronica was the only one who knew that she had tried to overdose, and McNamara had sworn her to secrecy. She was pretty sure Veronica wouldn’t expose her, especially to her cheer squad, so she had nothing to be worried about.

“Of course I am,” McNamara answered just a bit too quickly. “Why?”

“Well, it’s just…” the underclassman smiled at her awkwardly. “I heard from Courtney, who heard from Dick—You know the wide receiver?—who heard from another kid, and so on and so forth, that Veronica Sawyer just killed herself.”

McNamara couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. “Bullshit! Is this your idea of a joke?”

The underclassman’s eyes widened. “No, why the fuck would I joke about that?! They’re saying she hung herself in her bedroom, and that her mom found her like that!”

“I don’t believe you,” McNamara said, but her voice betrayed her words.

“Heather, she’s not even in the gym. You can go check for yourself.”

McNamara pushed past her squad to get to the door that led out to the main gym. She all but wrenched it open and stared out into the gym. Her eyes scanned the students trying to find their seats quickly, searching for some sort of familiarity—that old scarf, her diary, the blue blazer, anything that could disprove the claims. Nothing jumped out at her, and the crushing realization struck her. Veronica Sawyer wasn’t here.

Veronica Sawyer had killed herself.

McNamara stepped back and let the door slam shut in front of her. She didn’t want to believe it, but the lack of Veronica mixed with the rumors forced her to. Veronica Sawyer, the Veronica Sawyer who had stood up to Heather Chandler, who had called Heather Duke an ice-cold bitch to her face, who had stopped Heather McNamara from committing suicide, committed a suicide of her own. After her initial shock came grief, and grief brought tears with it. McNamara rushed back towards the bathrooms located within the locker room and locked herself in an empty stall. She buried her face in her hands and allowed large rattling sobs to shake her body. Though she knew, logically, it wasn’t her fault, a small part of her still screamed that she should have done more, that she should have noticed that something was off about her friend. Maybe if she had gone to Veronica’s house before the pep rally like they had planned weeks ago, before Chandler died, Veronica would still be alive. Or maybe she would have gotten there, and Veronica would already be dead.

“Heather?” a voice—that damn underclassman—asked.

“Go away!” McNamara snapped. “I don’t want to talk!”

“Heather, it’s just us,” the underclassman said. “I’m sorry about what happened to Veronica, that really sucks. I can’t believe she’s the fourth suicide this month…”

Something hateful in McNamara reared its ugly head. This underclassman had no right to talk about Veronica as if she was just (in Veronica’s own words) another statistic in US-fucking-A Today. Veronica was a person, who had hopes and dreams and friends, and McNamara couldn’t stand her being reduced to nothing more than just another suicide. She unlocked the door and gave the underclassman her most venomous glare.

“You didn’t know her,” McNamara spat. “None of you bothered to know her! She didn’t deserve to die!”

“But didn’t she throw up on Heather Chandler at one of Kurt and Ram’s parties?” a different girl asked.

McNamara rounded on her. “Who cares?!” She nestled her hands in her hair, lightly pulling on the strands. “She got sick, she threw up, so what?! Just because she threw up on Heather doesn’t mean she had to die!”

The second girl nodded quickly, opting not to speak again.

“Veronica was my friend! She’s the only one who gave a fraction of a shit about my well-being after Heather and Kurt and Ram died!” McNamara pointed at the underclassman. “So if I ever hear you disrespect her like that again, you’ll be off this fucking squad faster than you can blink, got it?”

The underclassman nodded far quicker than the second girl had, fear filling her eyes. “Yes, Heather.”

“Good.” McNamara caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the sinks and sighed at her ruined makeup. “Somebody go get my makeup bag. Now I have to fix all this shit before we go out.”

The underclassman ran off to retrieve the requested item, and the second girl placed a hand on McNamara’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay to go out there?”

McNamara shrugged the hand off. “Of course I am. Westerburg needs its head cheerleader, dammit. You guys are utterly useless without me.” She took up the makeup bag when the underclassman brought it back. “About damn time."

The rest of the squad left McNamara be as she fixed her makeup and tried to contain the redness of her face. She didn’t look in the mirror longer than she absolutely had to, though, as memories of yesterday tried to claw their way free, and all those memories would do was make her think of Veronica, and the entire vicious cry cycle would start again. Eventually Principal Gowan sounded their cue to leave the locker room and enter the gym. Each member of the squad took up her pom-poms, and they ran into the gym to their chant of “Hey, oh, Westerburg!” McNamara caught sight of Duke sitting alone in the front row, an empty seat to her right saved for Veronica, no doubt, and her heart squeezed painfully. Had no one bothered to tell her? She tore her gaze away from Duke and took up position at the front of the squad to lead their first cheer. McNamara closed her eyes for a moment, drew in a deep breath, and forced out the fakest smile she could manage.

“Come on Westerburg!”