My Mythic Bitch In Red

Chapter One

(y/n)'s POV

I kept my head down as I walked down the cruel hallways of Westerburg High School. I just wanted to get to French, but at the same time I really didn't. I shared that class with one of the dreaded Heathers, the four mean girls who ruled the school, and for whatever reason were color coded.

I approached the door to class despite my hesitations and all four Heathers were there, in French, surrounding Veronica's desk and chattering about some stupid gossip.

I quickly averted my gaze and took my seat, almost all the way across the otherwise empty classroom. I could feel the Heathers looking at me, but I just looked down. Don't make eye contact, whatever you do.

"Oh look, it's the school diva. Get the starring role in some children's play?" I heard the green one, Heather Duke, tease before being followed by a quick, "Shut up, Heather!"

Now all the Heathers were probably looking, so I spared a quick glance to check. My belief was indeed correct, which scared me more than heights. And I have a huge, irrational phobia of heights. I snapped my gaze back to my desk and traced little hearts on the desktop because Heather Chandler's really cute and I'm really gay.

"Aren't you a pretty little loser, hm? What're you doing in the same classroom as us?" I shrank back, but it was no use. All four Heathers stood over me like eagles studying prey.

"I h-have... I err... umm... have class here.... class there th-this hour." I stuttered, face flushed slightly. Red Heather, or the queen of high school, inched toward me to intimidate me further, despite me probably shaking.

"Hey, maybe don't kill her Heather. She really does take French this period." Veronica calmly addressed Heather Chandler. She then turned to me.

"Mrs. Bisset came in earlier, she said she had a hangover and won't be coming to class, so you can go. Free period." Veronica, the seemingly nicest Heather, said gently, yet still as if she was dismissing me, so I got up to go. The yellow one put a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

"Heather, what if we gave her a makeover? She is really pretty, and purple would look nice on her." Heather McNamara, or the yellow one, grinned and asked excitedly. I felt dread build up inside me. I just wanted to go to class, and now one of the Heathers wants to recruit me or something?!

"I'm good-"

"That seems like one of the less horrible ideas to come from you lot. She does have reasonably good facial structure, curvy enough..."

Needless to say, I felt very, very uncomfortable.

"And look! Her arms are just the right length!" McNamara chimed into what I think was praise.

"And look at her eyes. Pretty." Veronica noted.

"Of course, her waist could be thinner." Duke criticized with a smirk. I really hated this but four gorgeous girls were very close to me and I am very, very gay. Well I'm bi but still, gay. Chandler was actually my gay awakening, and I've had a small crush ever since. So, I was blushing like an idiot and just watching them circle me.

"She'd be an alright addition to the group. What's your name." Heather Chandler barked. It didn't even sound like a question. 

"I'm... (y/n)..." I mumbled.

"Well (y/n), we're gonna make you beautiful." McNamara giggled. I nodded. That seemed to be all the consent they needed, if any. They sprang into action.

I didn't wear makeup so the powder they were dusting on my cheeks felt strange. My eye almost got poked out by a mascara brush. They tugged at my hair to style it to their liking. This was gonna be wild.

"Welcome to the group. You'll be wearing purple." Heather Chandler barked.

(647 words)