The day that Heather Chandler realizes she wants Veronica is the day that Jason Dean comes to school. It isn't in a burst of sweet emotion - no, it's far, far from sweet, settling in her chest as a mess of anger, jealously, and confusion, because as far as it goes, Veronica is still a nobody and Heather doesn't do nobodies. She does jocks, football players with a peanut for a brain; she does the people that can and will push her higher and higher, keep her in her position of stardom.

Veronica Sawyer is none of those things.

Veronica is a geek. Veronica is a loser. Veronica is far from being anybody to storm through the cafeteria for, but when Heather watches her step towards Jason Dean's table, clipboard in hand, she takes off. The afterthought of stopping falls dead, squished under the sharp heel of Heather's heel to never be reborn again. How could he? How could he? The asshole. How could she?

Heather simmers with more and more rage with each step. How could Veronica? How could she embarrass her like that? Heather Chandler is not a force to be fucked with, Veronica surely must know this. Jason Dean must know this, he's seen them around. Everyone knows who she is.

But he doesn't. He has this ugly, annoying expression of arrogance that Heather wants to scratch off, bust his face with her acrylic nail and drag Veronica into the bathroom where Duke will be puking her guts out. And Veronica feeds into it, clipboard clutched tightly against her chest, a delicate smile prickling at her lips, interested in the loser. Not Kurt, not Ram, and not-

Not Heather. Not even Heather herself, and it's stupid. Maddening, really, because the school is her oyster and she chooses trenchcoat clad freaks over the real prizes. Kurt and Ram aren't any real winners, Heather loves her power but not enough to be that stupid. They're assholes, misogynists with rich daddies that pay away their fines and cheat the law, and marrying them would be nothing more than being a trophy wife that sneaks out when they go off to work, but Heather doesn't care.

She hates Jason Dean, and when Heather Chandler hates somebody, they don't live to speak about it. She'll crush his dreams faster than he can blink, and Jason Dean will be a nobody before he even has the chance of being a somebody.

"Greetings and salutations. Are you a Heather?"

Heather stands her distance for a moment, teeth grating together painfully. Are you a Heather? No, Veronica isn't a Heather. Veronica doesn't have it in her to be a Heather, there's no need for a party to prove that. Veronica doesn't really even deserve the shot at Remmington tonight, especially when she's expressing herself with such trash.

"No," Veronica answers. Neither of them sees her, and Jason does, he pays no mind to her. Heather's heel grinds against the flooring, "I'm a Veronica. Sawyer. This may seem like a really stupid question..."

The anger that previously weighed Heather slips into something far more vicious, twisting around her ribcage and slithering to her heart, puncturing with venomous veins. Veronica can't seriously be entertaining herself with this, can she? Heather needs her, not Heather herself, no, but Duke-

Heather turns to her group, desperate to further her point to herself, but falls flat, Mcnamara prattling on while Duke stands, disinterested. No, they don't want her. Heather's on her own.

The blonde glances back to the pair, sneers deep when JD leans back in his chair, a sure smile on his face, and says something along the lines of, "There are no stupid questions."

Veronica laughs. Heather doesn't hear it, but she sees the shudder of her shoulders, blazer pulling tight. Veronica just eats it all up, settles her weight in a way that sends Heather's blood boiling; chest out, head tilted, she eats his word-vomit up faster than the school lunch.

Veronica settles her weight between her feet, "You inherit five million dollars the same day aliens land on the earth and say they're gonna blow it up in two days," She glances down to the clipboard, hair tumbling over her shoulder, "What d'you do?"

Heather stops listening at this point. Whether it's the rage coursing through her or the sudden rise of chatter in the lunchroom, their words fall dead to her ears, and she stands in the midst of chaos, suffocating. This shouldn't bother her. This shouldn't bother her. She doesn't care about Veronica, not in that way. Even if she's just a little bit pretty.

Not nearly as pretty as Heather, though. Heather's a god, Heather can't be touched. And how dare they think they have a say in his lunchroom tyranny, have the option to disrupt the system that she's so carefully put together. The groups are divided for a reason, something that took months of bitching and establishing herself as the queen, and Heather will be absolutely damned if she lets Veronica screw that up.

He says something about a lake, Bach, some self-righteous, full-of-himself bullshit and god, Veronica falls right into it, right into his open hands, and Heather sees red. She's on her feet again, catches JD looking at her for a split second, that stupid, stupid fucking grin still on his features, and Heather swears she tastes blood.

Heather snatches Veronica's arm with a rough start, sneering, "Come on, Veronica," and her nails grip the girl's flesh so tight that red brinks the idents. She doesn't care. Heather just doesn't care, even when Veronica winces and JD's stare turns just a little bit darker, flickering between them.

Bite me, asshole. She's mine. Heather's lip furls back further.

"Later," Veronica offers.

JD inclines his head, chin towards his chest with a glint in his eyes that just drives Heather to murder, so she takes off with Veronica before any more words can be exchanged, pacing through the aisles of tables with boiling anger. Veronica, Veronica, Veronica, she's seething so bad she can't even speak. She should turn around, jab her finger in the brunette's face and just tell her how it is - that this is her high school, and she doesn't just get to socialize with scum, and then Kurt and Ram pipe in.

They talk distantly, more so, and Heather only really catches the tail of it when they pass the table, but it sedates her for a moment. Kurt and Ram were idiots through and through, but they're tough, and Heather revels in the knowledge that Jessie James is about to have his ass chewed.

"We're too old for that kind of crap," and then, "Let's give him a good scare, though."

Heather manages to drag Veronica into a clearing before Kurt and Ram make their appearance, standing in just the perfect spot to see the fight. The jocks work their way over to the table, standing over Jason Dean and his lunch, and Heather's mouth curls into a sinister smile as Ram plants his finger right in Jason's food.

"You gonna eat this?" Ram taunts. Veronica visibly stirs, watching the scene with worried eyes. Heather feels no pity for her, this is what happens when you turn an eye to her. Veronica has everything she needs right with her, there's no time for high school freaks.

"What did your boyfriend say, when you told him you were moving to Sherwood, Ohio?"

"Answer him, dick," Kurt adds. Heather tastes glory for a moment. This is right, this is how it should be, and she's happy when she sees Veronica still glued on the site of the argument. But her happiness diminishes just as fleetingly as it had come because Veronica doesn't look with ongoing fear, nor trepidation, but excitement. She wants this to go down.

"They seem to have an open-door policy for assholes though, don't they?"

Kurt and Ram stutter for a second, as Veronica does. Fuck, this isn't going to go the way Heather wanted it to. Kurt swings back with an equally angry, "What did you say, dickhead?"

It unfolds in one quick minute. Heather's attention is more on Veronica than she'd like to admit, staring at the the crown of the brunette's head and wondering just what the fuck she sees in JD, and then Kurt and Ram are scrambling, a loud bang silencing the rest of the lunchroom.

Heather stands speechless for a moment, trembling, almost, and looks at JD. Looks at the smug expression on his face and the gun secured in his hand, aimed right where Kurt and Ram had been. And Veronica, who stands beside her, nowhere near as terrified as the blonde.

Heather looks at her, sees the excitement in her eyes, and then back to Jason; thinks about just how much hell she's going to put him through for this, and that Veronica's going to have to watch. Veronica's hers, openly hers, and people don't get to take things from Heather. That's just not how it works.

Jason Dean will pay hell for ever thinking otherwise.