"Hi, I'm Veronica Sawyer and I'm a recluse and I'm here because my parents are under a huge misconception about my lack of friends," she said flatly before sitting down and opening her notebook.

Dear Diary,

Mom and Dad got concerned and instead of confronting me decided to confront you instead. Turns out sharp sardonic wit isn't good for parents worried their recluse daughter might be suicidal. Now I'm at a special program for "at risk teens" all summer instead of not leaving my room unless the house is on fire.

The girl to her right stood up next. She was immaculate. She wore a red sweater over a plain white dress, her strawberry blonde hair was perfectly curled into tight ringlets held back with a red scrunchie, and there wasn't a thread or strand or hair out of place. "I'm Heather Chandler and I'm hear because my therapist told my parents to and they don't want to deal with me. But I guess I'm supposed to say I don't have a healthy mental image of myself and have suicidal thoughts." Heather put "suicidal thoughts" in air quotes before sitting down.

Joining me is mythic bitch with secret insecurities, Heather Chandler.

A girl in a light-yellow sundress that matched her golden locks stood up across from Veronica. "That's funny, er, well- I mean my name's Heather McNamara. Um, I took one too many Zoloft so I'm here for overdose." "Overdoes" like "suicidal thoughts" was in air quotes.

Airhead second popular girl head cheerleader, Heather McNamara.

"I guess I have to go next," the girl to Veronica's left said, standing. "I'm Heather Duke, I have an eating disorder and I passed out because I went three days without eating anything and I'm severely underweight." Underweight she was, Heather's arms were practically bone and her green skirt was synched in so much that Veronica was sure she could fit Heather's red scrunchie around her waist.

And the lacky token ethnic friend, Heather Duke. She's the one who runs the year book. Dear God, there's three Heathers. If that doesn't make you want to vomit I don't know what else would.

"I guess as the last girl, I'll go," a heavy-set girl in a pink hoodie announced after Heather sat down. "My name's Martha Dunstock. I received letters at school telling me to kill myself because I was ugly and fat so my parents got worried and now I'm here." Martha finished with fake enthusiasm, even giving her arms a little swing and a thumbs up. Veronica instantly liked her.

Martha Dunstock, the person with the biggest heart here. Too bad that doesn't count for anything.

"Kurt Kelly."

"Ram Sweeney."

The two boys sitting adjacent to Veronica said at the same time. "I'm here because my coached pushed me too hard as quarterback for college reps and I ended up passing out during a game. Also, I apparently have anxiety." Kurt started.

"And my dad thinks I'm at a conversion therapy thing instead. It's bad at home." Ram finished.

"We were both labeled at risk teens by the school counselor," they said simultaneously.

The toxic masculinity football superstars: Ram Sweeney; third year as linebacker and eighth year of smacking lunch trays, and Kurt Kelly; smartest guy on the football team.

"You act like you already know each other," Heather remarked, brushing an imaginary piece of dust off her sweater, her nails painted matching red.

Ram grabbed Kurt's hand. "Boyfriends, but we go to different schools so don't tell the therapist or whatever." Kurt squeezed his boyfriend's hand back.

Who are secretly gay.

"Don't tell them I snuck all of my makeup in," Heather bartered, moving to straighten out her starched and pressed skirt of her dress.

Heather's already broken the rule and smuggled in contraband. Guess what it is? Makeup obviously. We were barely allowed to take any of our personal belongings. Literally one outfit for each day of the week. People say the popular girls aren't good at math, but no, they're going to know exactly how many different clothing combinations will make a technically different outfit down to the hairbands they brought.

"I didn't think we could bring journals either," Heather noted timidly, twirling her blonde hair absentmindedly around her finger.

"Nope," Veronica popped her 'p', as she went back to date her entry.

"Hey, what's your deal, trench coat kid?" a voice asked, catching everyone's attention. It was the boy directly across from Veronica. He was indeed wearing a trench coat and had a smirk on his face insinuating he was possibly planning to kill everyone while they slept.

And lastly we have psycho trench coat kid, he smiles like a cat about to knock something off a table.

"Fine," Heather said, brushing a curl behind her shoulder. "What's your name and why are you here?"

"Aren't you that Jason Dean kid the nurses were talking about? The one who cut just a little too deeply last time?" The boy continued, a few of them winced at the mention of cutting. Veronica looked at him curiously, for once not immediately going back to writing. "Doesn't look like much a Jason though, should probably call him JD or he'll punch my lights out."

And he talks in third person, he's going to kill us all.

"Well now that we're finished with these useless introductions we were required to do, I'm going back to my room." Heather announced, standing up and readjusting her sweater.

"You said you brought your make up?" Heather asked eagerly, jumping up, her yellow dress fluttering lightly with every movement.

Already the Heathers are off to do their make up already.

"And my curlers," Heather added proudly.

"Curlers?" Heather look at both of them, her wavy black hair swaying like water down her back.

And their hair.

"I brought a brush and a few combs?" Martha tried to say helpfully. To Veronica's surprise, Heather gestured for her to come with them.

Surprise, surprise, they've invited Martha to join them. I'll need to keep an eye on them to make sure they don't crush her.

Veronica looked up when Heather didn't walk off, realizing she was waiting for her to ask to join as well.

Do I look like the type of person to join the mean popular girls who rule the school?

Heather took it as an answer and walked off, the other girls following her. Ram and Kurt got up a moment later, leaving her alone with JD.

Lucky me, Heather didn't drag me off but now I'm stuck with Jason Dean. He's smiling too much for my liking and he won't say anything either, he just keeps smiling like he's amused by something. Obviously that something is my, but what is it that he's amused by?

"Hey, cute boy, why do you keep grinning at me like that?" JD spoke after a minute.

Veronica glanced up at him for a second. "I don't know if I'd call myself cute, but you really want to know why I'm staring?" she answered, deciding to play his game.

He's trying to engage with me and he's still doing that weird third person thing. I don't really know how to explain it. It's like he's talking as you to him but at the same time you can tell he's talking to you. It's the rhetorical thing people do when they're miffed you're ignoring them or when you don't answer them, except he's not just being sarcastic.

Her response seemed to interest JD as he sat up straight and uncrossed his arms. "Is it because I keep writing in my journal, even while having a conversation, and won't make proper eye contact?" his voice dripped with slight mockery while his eyes flashed with interest.

"Maybe I should stop trying to elicit unwanted conversation," Veronica shot back.

"I wouldn't be talking to you if I didn't want to," he pointed out.

"I don't know, you're a really small girl all alone in a room with me, a kid in a psych ward wearing a trench coat," she easily rebuttaled.

He gives off a weird nonthreatening vibe, but at the same time I swear he's plotting my death in his head. How can someone be nonthreatening and untrustworthy at the same time?

"So am I scared of you, then?" he asked, his voice had changed, it was softer like he genuinely cared to know if he scared her.

"Should I be?" she asked breaking the charade. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she dared to peak up at him again. He'd leaned over his lap in interest, chin resting on his hand, elbow resting on his knee.

"I don't think you've given me a reason to be," his voice had lost its snark despite the continuation of the third person.

Does he naturally talk in third person? Is that how mental he is? You'd think he'd stop if he were truly serious about something. It feels like a game, like he's prodding you for answers. The way he has to assume and ask questions for you, it makes me uneasy.

"You shouldn't be so presumptuous," Veronica closed her notebook and stood up. JD looked a little put out and she wondered if it was because she was finally leaving or if she'd officially quit the unspoken game they were playing when she went back to speaking like a normal person. "Psycho trench coat kid who talks in weird third person," she reiterated.

"I think I sound like the presumptuous one now, considering I don't really know anything about you," JD said getting up, he sounded more dejected than Veronica would have thought. Veronica stuck her chin up and retired to her room, Heather's room must've been right next to hers because she could hear giggling through the wall.

God, I can't believe he would accuse me of being the presumptuous one. Maybe I don't know his whole life story, but could he not see how wearing a trench coat to a psych ward wouldn't cause assumptions? Maybe, JD, if you didn't want to be tagged as someone who'd blow up a school, you wear different attire to a psychiatric ward and don't talk in third person.

There was another giggle. Veronica was tempted to go and see what exactly was going on and make sure Heather hadn't done something awful to Martha.

I've given in, I'm going to go join the Heathers and make sure they haven't tied Martha to a chair or something worse. There's no point staying in my room, it's not really my room anyway. There's no personalization. There's not even any real privacy. They have to be able to see in our room at all times, there's a little porthole window on each of our doors so they can look in if they really need to. I think it just let's the male nurses and psychos like JD creep on us while we sleep.

Veronica sighed and went to the room next to hers, bracing herself as she knocked on the door.

AN:: Woo! First Heather's fanfic! I don't know where this idea came to me I've just been really addicted to the cast album lately.

Veronica's interesting, writing her as an unreliable narrator (for now at least) as she's really cynical and sarcastic. She basically takes everyone for their worst and she's kind of mean sometimes.

I kind of picture her a mix of Barrett and Winona (I know I said everyone's musical but they're kind of really similar so it fits).

And JD's just Christian Slater in my mind (appearance wise). I have nothing against Ryan, fits my mental picture better? Also, Shannen Doherty is JD's mom too, I guess it's what I get for watching the Paramount reboot, but it's also not like we have any other reference for her (but seriously, it's her red scrunchy and all).