Pansy: A Chandlmara & Mcnamawyer Fanfiction (Heathers The Musical)

Chapter One: Reindeer Games

It had been around three weeks since we let Veronica into our group. She's pretty unoffending. We'll all play croquet, have lunch, conversate, and Veronica will only add input occasionally. She's still geeky at heart, no matter if she's in shoulder pads or a sweater. I actually think that's brave of her, in a way. She's managed to keep bits of her old life. Sometimes she'll run off to Martha Dunnstock and talk with her for at most a minute. Surprisingly Heather Chandler doesn't seem to mind yet.

"You wanna know why I don't mind?" she cooed in her orotund voice when I asked her about it that morning as we drove into the parking lot of Westerburg Highschool in her new red Porsche she'd gotten in November for her birthday. "I learned some things while cleaning up old junk yesterday," Heather continued as "Que Sera, Sera" performed by Syd Straw played on the radio.

Heather pauses talking in order to park the Porsche next to Heather Duke's once blue, now brown Jeep Grand Wagoneer, like she does every school day (Heather teased her into repainting the Jeep because she said it looked like The Mystery Machine). "Open the glove compartment, Heather," she ordered.

I open it and find a thin hardcover book. I pull it out and the cover reads:

Northview Elementry School

1977 – 1978

"An old yearbook from twelve years ago... whoa..." I say, monotoned and sarcastic.

Heather gives me a winning smile, one she only gives me. It then becomes the sly smirk she gives to anyone. "Open it to the page I folded!"

The dog-eared page has pictures of grinning little kindergartners playing different kinds of sports plastered on it. Heather reached over and pointed at one photo of a plump girl with pigtails on the sides of her head being gleefully hugged by a scrawny boy with band-aids on his face and knee. "You recognize them? Ram Sweeney and Martha Dumptruck!"

A small grin arose on my face as I begin to remember. "Oh, yeah! I almost forgot they were friends once."

"Friends and more. I talked to Heather last night and according to her they kissed on the kickball field!"

I remember the 'moment' with a giggle. "What's a 'kiss' when you're six? A stupid one-second peck?"

"Still, though! It was disgusting!" Heather playfully tapped the top of the steering wheel. "I have an idea and I think Veronica having Dumptruck's friendship could help with it..."

Heather gives this elaborate scheme to give Martha a forged letter from Ram, inviting her to his homecoming party this weekend, then embarrass her with a pig piñata made to look like her and make her wack it to pieces without knowing.

"Oh, that's bad..." I whisper, impressed, "but what did Martha do to deserve it. Stand up to you? Spill on you? Ruin something?"

Heather gave a shrug, caressing the gentle curl in her strawberry-blonde hair. "Does she have to do anything? It's just a fun prank."

"It'd be more fun if she did something."

Heather let lose her rich, smooth laugh. "I respectfully disagree." She placed her hand on my shoulder and stroked with her thumb, an easing motion she often did on me. "It's just Martha Dumptruck and it's just one joke... who cares?"

I can't stop the simper that now dawns on my face. I always want to please her and I know how much she hates it when people squash her fun. "Right... who cares?"

• • •

We had Veronica forge the note. It took some threatening and convincing. We left out the part about the piñata to make her do it. She has no clue it'll happen. I can't say I don't feel bad, for both Veronica and Martha. I make myself fit in with the other Heathers, acting like them as much as I can in order to stay afloat. I just have to keep reminding myself that it's no big deal. What bad could come from one joke? My head's just weird.