weak; mcduke

newcomer

newcomer (n)- a person or thing that has recently arrived in a place or joined a group.

12th grade / september 1, 1989 / duke's pov

I let my head rest back on the seat of my Jeep. Well, it was Mattie's, but nobody knew that. He'd made the mistake of leaving it behind when he went off to college. I hadn't seen him in a few years. He was like a distant memory. I pulled into a parking space, ripped the key out of the ignition and hopped onto the pavement. Shouldering my backpack distastefully, I made my way to the front of the school. Senior year, and nothing had really changed. Kids of all rankings swerved to avoid me as I walked the halls and located Heather and Heather. They were chatting by Chandler's locker. I approached cautiously.

"Heather... nice of you to finally show up," Chandler spoke sarcastically. I didn't reply. Heather waved at me with a small smile. Chandler glanced sideways at her but said nothing. To her, Heather was an angel. At least compared to me. My stomach shifted dangerously as the three of us took a walk down the hall to my locker. I took a look over my shoulder. Chandler was eyeing it. My fingers fumbling the new combination, I popped open the lock after a few tries. I grabbed my books and shoved my backpack inside, slamming the door shut.

"Jesus f*cking Christ, Heather, what did that locker do to you? Oh, look, it's near the bathroom. How convenient." Heather's voice was loud enough for the students around me to hear. A few snickers and taunting chuckles  sounded from the crowd. Back when Heather first figured out I threw up my food and confronted me about it, she'd spread the rumors. Nobody let me live it down for years. Just another blow. I could feel Heather focusing on me. My stomach was starting to hurt. Sh*t.

"I... gotta use the bathroom-"

"No, you don't. You need to go and f*cking puke up your breakfast. Lead the way." Chandler gestured to the bathroom with a scowl. I kept my posture straight and locked myself inside of a stall. Bending over, I began to gag up the small bowl of cereal I'd eaten a half hour earlier.

"Grow up, Heather, bulimia is so '87," Chandler added with obvious disgust. I wondered how she knew when it'd started. Well, she had been the main cause of it.

"Heather's right. Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather," Heather chimed in, sounding concerned. I felt an aching affection for her. She was too good for a place like this.

"Yeah, Heather, maybe I should," I answered and turned back to the toilet. I heard the distant echo of the bell. F*cking great. My stomach rolled and I focused on vomiting again. Once I was finished, I flushed and opened the stall door. I took a quick look at myself in the mirror and heard footsteps. The bathroom door opened with a creak of protest. Ms. Fleming stepped inside, frowning with disapproval.

"Ah, Heather and Heather... and Heather." She looked at me as I turned back to the toilet to gag once more. I finished and faced the teacher.

"Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over the vomiting? You're late for class." She placed her hands on her hips.

"Heather wasn't feeling well. We're helping her," Chandler replied, b*tchy as ever.

"Not without a hall pass you're not," Ms. Fleming retorted, clearly p*ssed at Chandler's attitude.

"Oh, uh, actually, Ms. Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass. Yearbook committee." An unfamiliar voice piped up. A girl with short brown hair, a jean jacket, weird-looking skirt and multicolored scarf had been standing at Fleming's side. She handed a slip to the teacher. Fleming read it over, her frown deepening. I observed the newcomer. What the f*ck? Heather stood at my side, distanced from Chandler. Apparently I wasn't the only one curious about this student.

"Well, I see you're all listed... hurry up, get where you're goin'," Fleming finally said, gesturing with her fingers and leaving. Chandler immediately took a stride to the girl's side and snatched the paper from her hand. Heather and I followed, peering over her shoulder at the forged pass. It was f*cking realistic, all right.

"This is an excellent forgery. Who are you?" She looked up at the girl, voicing both of my thoughts in a single sentence.

"Uh... Veronica, Sawyer... I, um... I, I crave a boon..." Veronica stuck out her hand. Chandler didn't shake it, understandably. This nerd was a strange one.

"What boon?" Chandler was irked by now. She hated talking to geeks. Yet... I'd been around her for more years than I could count, and the way she looked Veronica up and down was something I'd never seen her do before. Something was coming.

"Just let me sit at your table at lunch, just once, no talking necessary." She waved her book in the air for emphasis.

"If people think you tolerate me then they'll leave me alone," she added. Chandler gave an amused laugh and glanced back at us. Heather and I gave fake laughs to go along with her unspoken command.

"Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes." I glanced at Heather who clasped her hands together. I gave into temptation.

"How about prescriptions?" I kept my tone brief as I blurted out my request. Maybe I could get myself some sedatives to ease my insomnia. I could give some to Heather, too, since they helped lessen her breakdowns.

"Shut up, Heather." Chandler kept a smooth tone as she said the same line she'd been speaking to me since I'd first joined the Heathers. I wondered why she didn't f*cking rip my head off for that one. She was clearly distracted by this "Veronica" chick.

"Sorry Heather.." I replied, glancing away in submission.

"For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure," Chandler said, circling her. Heather and I stood on the other side. She was going somewhere with this.

Heather inched closer and put her hand in front of Veronica's face, pulling it down in a cutting motion as she spoke. "And a symmetrical face. If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I'd have matching halves." I saw her face flush. She had a bad habit of blurting things out. Told me it was her issues that made her do it.

"That's very important." With that, she shrunk back, almost bumping into me.

"Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds," I threw in my extra sense, since I assumed we were supposed to be doing that. She was a bit meaty, anyways.

"And you know, you know, you know, this could be beautiful. Mascara, maybe some lip gloss, and we're on our way," Chandler began, grabbing Veronica's chin and rotating her head to examine it.

"Get this girl some blush, and Heather I need your brush... let's make her beautiful." She smiled.

"Let's make her beautiful..." I chimed in.

"Beautiful..." Heather echoed.

"Okay?" Chandler questioned, as if asking for consent had just occurred to her. Veronica nodded.

"Okay." Her tone wavered. We had a new Heather on our hands.