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Heathers

Death of popular​ kids, a sexy trenchcoat wearing boy, a strong female lead shooting middle fingers off, that all happens in the cult classic film "Heathers" this book is simply the film planted into words, the story of the dark haired sociopath and the genuinely good person, the OG regina george, Heather Chandler. When you go to westerburg high school, and are part of the most powerful clique in school, made up of three girls all named heather, you really need a fucking ciggerate after sex with your badass psycho. (I don't own the characters or rights to this movies- everything at all in this novel belongs completely to the writers and creators.)

Midnight_Raven123 · Teenager
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22 Chs

The demon queen of highschool has decreed it..

Veronica swirled around to face heather, her face Bright orange from the flaming trashcan.

She clutched her coat in one hand as she glared at heather.

Heather was furious, her face was even redder than Veronica had ever seen it.

But even as she spoke, heather Chandler kept her voice from showing any loss of control.

"You were nothing before you meet me. You were playing Barbie's with Betty Finn."

Veronica kept her rebels stance, but inside she wanted to claw heather up, Betty Finn was her friend. She was a great friend. She was better than whatever bitchy bitchnesa Veronica had tangled herself up with.

"You were a blue bird."

Her voice was dropping to dangerously calm levels... It was as if a fire was getting put out...

"You were a girl scout cookie."

She practically whispered.

The cold spell was there... But it didn't last long..

"I got you into a remmington party! And what's my thanks?"

Veronica looked away from Heather's stature... Looking behind... Looking away.... Crossing her arms...

"It's on a hallway carpet!"

Veronica braced herself... She hummed in her head... This would soon be over....

"I GOT PAID IN PUKE!"

Veronica smirked and unfolded her arms. Then she did something she never thought she could do. She took a step towards Chandler with a grin on her face. The light on Heather's face dancing dangerously..

"Lick it up baby!"

She took yet another step forward, emphasizing each word of her next sentence..

"LICK.IT.UP"

If looks could kill, Heather Chandler would be dead. Veronica smiled wider, a<span style="font-size: 18px;"> genuine smile. She was pleased with herself, heather recoiled suprised, but did that tame the snake? You wish.</span>

<span style="font-size: 18px;">Heather Chandler wore such a blank and monotone expression that Veronica almost turned and left. But Heather began, in an impassive, monotone voice.</span>

"Monday morning, you're history... I'll tell everyone about tonight. Transfer to Washington. Transfer to Jefferson. No-one at Westerburg's gonna let you play their reindeer games.<span style="font-size: 18px;"></span>

Veronica didn't have anything to say. She stood... Traumatized... Her eyes growing wider, the fact that heather had won this round.. she had passed the test with flying colors, she had won the race. She had won the match.

She smirked, staring into Veronica's shocked face.

Veronica is a little stunned. It's too soon for her; it's too soon after Barbies with Betty to be dealing with shit like this...

In Veronica's room, she throws the book at the wall near the window.. already engulfed in flames of rage just having to recount the incidint to her diary.

She huffed, upset, practically fuming like a dragon. She banged her poor innocent pen down onto the desk glancing at the window...

Someone's head popped in..

Veronica jumped in fright and surprise. Burglers?

But the dark hair and familiar smirk told Veronica it was alright.

"Dreadful etiquette, I apologise."

Said Jason dean as he hugged the window frame.

"It- it's ok-"

Said Veronica, both amazed and amused at the same time. This boy had just come through her window like it was some sort of movie.

"I saw saw croquet set up in the back... You up for a match?"

Veronicthen smiles smugly, knowing that anything that happened between her and JD tonight wasn't going to be PG, or even PG-13.

After all, she was a dead girl walking.