Call me Ishmael. Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation.

Heather dug into the opening paragraph of Moby Dick as she waited to take her hair out of her curlers. It was seven in the morning, and her makeup was already done, outfit already on. She had let the black wrapping paper and blue bow from last last night influence her color scheme: she had chosen a blue dress, complimented by a black blazer and matching leggings as well as boots.

"Heather?"

The sound of her mother's voice made her jump. "Hold on!" She stuffed the book in her backpack and began unraveling the curlers from her hair. "Come in!"

Veronica opened the door and greeted her daughter with a smile. "Morning. Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks, Mom."

Veronica rushed into the room and sat next to her on the bed. In her hand was a gift bag, with Heather's name written in glitter pen on it. She smiled at her daughter and handed her the gift. "I know we don't usually do presents until the cake after dinner, but I thought I'd give this to you early."

Heather opened the bag to see a beautiful blue book staring at her. Inside were perfectly printed lines, on clean white pages.

"You see, my mom gave me a diary when I turned seventeen, and I thought I'd carry on the tradition. I know diaries are a bit out of style now, but I thought if you didn't want to use it as one, you could use it for school or something."

Heather smiled and hugged her. "Thanks, Mom." With that she tucked the diary into hr backpack, besides her copy of Moby Dick.

Five minutes into being at the school, and Heather already hated Westerburg. Mrs. West at the front office had been very nice about printing her out a map of the school, as well as getting her schedule and locker number and combination. Everyone else had received their locker information and schedules weeks earlier in the mail, but Heather was not yet registered by then.

The school was filled will the stereotypical cliques that high school cliques: stoners, sports stars, theatre kids, band geeks, fandom nerds, and the ones who float from clique to clique. They all gathered in clusters along the hallway, laughing and talking before the morning bell rang.

Her locker was in the central hallway, next to a memorial for students who died before graduation. The more recent deaths had been accredited to cancer and such, but farther back, the three closest to her locker, read:

Heather Chandler, death by suicide. 1973—1989

As well as two memorials pinned to a rainbow pattern flag that said:

Kurt Kelly, WHS quarterback, death by double suicide. 1972—1989

Ram Sweeney, WHS linebacker, death by double suicide 1971—1989

May these Westerburg students forever rest in peace.

These three all had died when her mom had been in high school. Three suicides in the same year. Heather suddenly wondered if her mother had known them, or even been friends with them. Mom wasn't one for sharing her life in high school, claiming that her senior year had caused her permanent psychological damage, which didn't give her daughter much hope for her own senior year. Her mom had stated that 1989 was the worst year of her life, and that Heather was the only good thing to come from it. She was born the year her mom graduated high school (she was six months pregnant at the time of graduation, something she had hidden by wearing her best friend, Martha's sweaters, and her two best friends were the only members of the student body who knew), and her father was a mystery. According to her mom, after both of her best friends attempting suicide, she had tried to cope with partying, which resulted in a few drunken nights with boys. She claimed to have absolutely no clue who her father was, and had chosen not to investigate and find out. "Nobody at that school had the emotional maturity to raise a baby with me," she had said. If she really knew in her heart who had provided the other half of Heather's gene pool, she had no intention of telling anyone.

While she had some issues with her teenage angst, she had done her best to be the best mother she could. She had given up going to one of the two Ivy League schools so she could be with her child. While living with her parents, she went to a community college and after graduation she moved the two of them to Cleveland so Veronica could attend law school. After passing the bar exam, the two moved to Lima, where Veronica worked as a private practice attorney. That was where she met Phil, her fiance, when he was doing a story at her firm. Phil and Heather had gotten along well, and while he seemed like the perfect companion for her mom, he was not the perfect dad for her. He was a thirty-something man with no kids of his own, and had no clue how to be a parent to anyone. He did care about her, and was making an effort. He made plans to move in with them when they found out her grandmother got diagnosed with a rapidly-moving cancer.

Her mom seemed truly uncomfortable being back in Sherwood, and yesterday Heather watched her nearly have a panic attack being back in her old high school, and for that reason alone made her hate Westerburg.

"Hello!"

Heather turned to see a cheery-eyed blonde girl staring back at her. A big smile took over her face. She was wearing a pink outfit, and looked like a Delta Nu sorority sister from Legally Blonde.

"Hi," Heather replied, opening her locker.

"You're new, aren't you? I'm Lexi Fulbright, I'm on the welcoming committee! Well, I would be if we had one. New students don't happen much. What's your name?"

Before Heather could respond, another blonde in a purple outfit walked up. "Jesus Lex, chill." The other blonde turned to Heather. "I'm sorry about my younger sister, she loves trying to make new friends." She smoothed down her purple skirt and tossed her beach blonde locks over her shoulder. "Carol Lynn Fulbright, senior. You?"

"Heather Sawyer. Also senior."

The two spent the next few minutes talking. Carol Lynn explained that Lexi was a sophomore and had skipped kindergarten, making her only fourteen. Carol Lynn was Senior Class President, and shared three classes with Heather, as well as lunch. She was much calmer than her younger sister, but twice as to the point. To be honest, it felt good to have someone show her the ropes the first day. Lexi popped in every now and then in the hallway to say hello, and once the sisters had learned it was her birthday, they got truly excited.

"Hey, there's the senior bonfire tonight, you wanna go?" Carol Lynn asked at lunch. "It starts at ten. I could pick you up, if you want."

Heather didn't have a car of her own, but had been promised one as her graduation present. She had gotten her license a few months back, and occasionally got permission to drive her mom's car, as long as she knew where she was going. A giant playground of teenagers? That'd be a no from her mom. So she agreed to that.

When she got a text from her mom saying she was staying late to work, the Fulbright sisters were quick to offer her a ride home. Carol Lynn drove a black 2008 Honda Accord, a senior gift from her parents. She let Heather have the front seat, and Lexi gleefully stretched out in the backseat. Carol Lynn immediately turned on the radio, blasting out pop tunes. Heather took the opportunity to open her diary and write in for the first time.

September 3, 2007

Dear Diary,

So Mom got me this for my birthday,which evidently just so happens to be the first day of senior year. New age, new birthday, new school, new town, new everything. To be honest, I had expected everything to be a whole hell of a lot worse than it is. Last night a random copy of Moby Dick appeared at my door (really good book so far), and five minutes into being a Westerburg High student, I think I made two friends. They are sisters, named Lexi and Carol Lynn, Carol Lynn being my class president. She even invited me to a senior bonfire, as well as to drive me back and forth today.

You know, I honestly thought it would be hell on wheels today. I thought I'd inherit Veronica Sawyer's grand hatred for Sherwood and wish I was dead. The people so far seem so unbelievably kind. The lady in the front office, Mrs. West, seemed to know Mom back in high school, and is maybe one of the sweetest people I have ever met. The student body seems somewhat decent, even though I seemed to only make contact with two students. Hopefully tonight Carol Lynn can introduce me to some other people.

It's not so bad, I've realized. Maybe I can make this place home, make some friends, blend in. Losing all my friends from Lima might not really be the end of the world. After I announced I was moving and got into that huge fight with Phoebe McMannahan, I got that awful taste of what it's like to be on the unfavorable end of the social hierarchy. She had accused me of letting out the secret that she liked girls as well as boys, since I was her best friend and one of the only ones who knew. Not that her relationship with Ashley Fraber was much of a secret. The two made out a party. Once she was referred to as "dike" by the runningback she used to sleep with and she had to let him grope her in front of the cafeteria to prove her love for boys, Phoebe vowed to ruin my reputation . Well that she had done well. By the time I had left Lima, I had not a single person I could call "friend."

This move was really a strike of luck. Well, not with Grandma getting cancer, but with escaping all the Paul Revere High bullshit. Phil was moving down to be with Mom, and they were going to get married here. This really is a move for the better.

Heather jolted as Carol Lynn hit the brakes and put the car in park. "See you in a few hours."

Heather had a pretty nice birthday dinner with her mom and grandparents. Phil even called to wish her a happy birthday. Her mom was even cool with her going to the bonfire, as long as she called when she was coming home.

Carol Lynn picked her up at nine-thirty sharp. Lexi wasn't with her, for it was a seniors-only event. Five minutes into the ride, Carol Lynn realized she had forgotten to buy chips for the bonfire. Needing to get gas anyway, she parked at a 7-Eleven and handed Heather a fifty.

"Get a few huge bags of chips? You can get anything you want for yourself, just give me change," Carol Lynn said.

Heather nodded and entered the convenience store. Rows of packaged, artificially-made food filled the shelves, sodas and beers stored in the glass refrigerators ling the side of the store. Trying to make it quick, she snatched an armful of party-sized chip bags before heading over to to the refrigerated section and grabbing a bottle of soda. Holding and armful of goodies, she felt her cellphone buzz in her blazer pocket. Grabbing a bag of chips with her teeth, she tried to open her cell as she kept walking.

Mom- B home b4 1 AM plz. U have school 2morrow. Luv u! Happy Bday!

Heather- Ok. Will do.

Bam! Just as she was tucking her cell back into her pocket and pulling the bag from her mouth, she crashed into a man. He was in all black, holding a Blue Raspberry Slurpee in his hand. Heather looked up and her eyes widened. "I'm so sorry!"

With that she tried to maneuver around him, but he was quick to grab her upper arm, making her whip around to face him again. He stared into her eyes, looking completely dazed. "Oh my god..."

"Can I help you?" Heather asked, darting her eyes back and forth from him to her arm.

"I'm sorry, it's just that you look just like this girl I knew." He spoke slowly, only half-speaking to her. "You look just like Veronica Sawyer..."

"You know my mom?"

His eyes suddenly widened. "Mom?" He let go of her arm. "Veronica had a kid."

"Well the doppelganger before you proves that. How do you know my mom?"

He shrugged. "We were friends back in high school. Word is Veronica hasn't been seen in Sherwood in years."

Heather, confused by the creepy 7-Eleven guy and half assuming him to be drunk, gave him a quick, tight-lipped smile. "She's back now. Excuse me."

She swerved past him and made her way to the check-out counter. Sadly, he followed her. "So Veronica had a kid. That's unexpected." He looked at her as she put her bags on the counter, "How old are you?"

She decided to give in. "Seventeen as of today."

He smiled. "Today's your birthday?"

"So they tell me," she said as she pulled out her bill to pay. The man pushed her hand away and handed the cashier some bills, and threw in a bag of Corn Nuts.

"I got this. Consider this a birthday present."

"Oh you didn't have to."

He shook his head and laughed. "Anything for Veronica Sawyer's kid. Your mom was kind of a legend back at Westerbug when she was your age." He took a sip of his Slurpee. "So her legacy lives on. What's your name?"

"Heather. Sawyer."

His brows knit together at the sound at her name. For some reason he found her name truly perplexing. Just as she was about to ask for his, Carol Lynn burst in.

"Jeez, Heather. You've been here for ten minutes. We need to go, we're already late."

Heather grabbed the bags. "Oh. Okay. Sorry." Carol Lynn was quick to usher her out the door before she could thank the stranger and catch his name to ask her mom if she remembered him. She only got to glance back once as Carol Lynn was driving away, to see him staring at her out the window of the store, sipping his Slurpee.