"Veronica, this haircut is so you."
Veronica used to have long hair. It was long and blonde and beautiful. She matched the other '09er girls, blended in with girls like Lilly and Caitlin (though Caitlin hadn't been allowed in the In Crowd back when Lilly was running things). When Lilly introduced her to new people, their eyes flitted between the two girls. Who was this girl, with fawning doe eyes and a thin wallet? She had pompoms and ordered pizza for lunch, but she didn't quite fit, everybody knew it. She was a timid mimicry of Lilly, exuberant, powerful, provocative Lilly. She was a shadow, an afterthought, trying as hard as she could to be one of them, to be Lilly.
She even copied Lilly's hair, they would say. But she didn't steal Lilly's hair—her mother gave it to her. The hair had been hers since sixth grade, when she convinced her mother to stop cutting it. She owned that hair.
Lilly knew that. Lilly never thought of Veronica as a shadow, well, sometimes, but she felt bad after she did. Veronica may have been timid, but she was virtuous and marshmallowy and a fabulous secret-keeper. She was perfect for Duncan, charming little virgins hand in hand. And she drove Celeste up the wall, which Lilly loved.
Lilly was all flash, a dazzling blaze of sultry sweetness and pouty lips and a love for pissing people off. She walked into a room and people took notice. They gawked at her audacity, they stared at her beauty, they ogled at her prominent cleavage. The boys fell at her feet when she sashayed by, and simpered when she flashed them a smile.
And while Veronica admired these traits, and liked trailing along in the wake of Hurricane Lilly, she saw something else. Lilly was just fun. She was fun to be around, fun to watch, fun to mimic, fun to be. Lilly enjoyed the hell out of life; enjoyed rumors and drama and sex and friends and cars and boys and sadness and anger and controversy and swimming and talking and secrets and manipulations and movies and vodka and friends. She lived her life on the edge, so far beyond carpe diem that she couldn't understand not wearing the red strapless dress.
When people saw Veronica, they didn't say much. She was very pretty, but her looks were more offbeat, subtle. Standing next to Lilly made her fade into the background, dull and unimportant. She didn't have enough pizzazz; she wasn't bold enough and unique enough to garner the same attention. But that was okay. Lilly had been her friend, on and off, since second grade when she beat up Johnny Anderson, a would-be fling of Lilly's, for pulling up Lilly's skirt at recess.
Back then—before most children knew how much their parents made, before the children knew how much each other's parents made—Lilly and Veronica were different people. Lilly was fearless, even then, but she spent her youth trying to please her parents. She rode horses, did ballet, performed at choir recitals, learned French, became a debutante, and didn't play soccer with Veronica. Even then the memories were misty and water-colored. Lilly was more insecure back then, worried she was dumb and touchy about her height. She both resented and admired Veronica for being so damn unpliable; for being so damn good at everything.
When she was young, Veronica was almost as fearless as Lilly. She had mid length hair, white-blonde strands tucked behind her ear. She was precocious, clever, a fiercely loyal friend and total boy-hater. She played soccer and told lies and never wore dresses. The teachers all liked her because she was bright, but she refused to be their pet. Her father taught her to always be herself, and she took it to heart. She adored her parents, and in contrast to most of the other parents, they let her be a real kid.
They grew up. Lilly caught up with the other kids at puberty, when she blossomed into the stunner that broke a million hearts. She got sick of being her parent's little Lilly doll and went out of her way to disappoint them, a goal that became much more attainable when she discovered boys. She couldn't think of a better way to shock Mommy and Daddy dearest than to get caught with her French tutor out by the pool.
Veronica mellowed out as her hair grew. With boys no longer her mortal enemies, her ferocity lost steam. Her father became the sheriff, and it brought Lianne the status that she had enjoyed in high school. Veronica's mother became more and more concerned with images, and Veronica, the devoted daughter, helped her create that image. She wore soft cotton dresses and allowed herself to become docile and sweet. She played the good-girl part so well she forgot that she was ever anything else.
But Lilly hadn't forgotten. While everyone saw a Lilly look-alike with copy-cat hair and a sweet but bland smile, Lilly saw the intrepid ten-year-old she'd loved and envied. Even in her demure, innocent hesitance, Lilly saw the masterful, dauntless, just plain strong girl within. Veronica had the potential to be something special, and so no matter who doubted her, Lilly stayed by her side.
...vm...vm...vm...
Lilly had planned bright futures for them both. She was to be glamorous showgirl, with a humble acting career and sexy British boyfriend with a strong Welch accent. She wanted Veronica to be a showgirl with her (a la Gentlemen Prefer Blondes—which fortunately they both were), but Veronica claimed that she wanted to be a vet or a cop. So Lilly imagined that Veronica was a world famous veterinarian/pet detective, as well as her manager and confidant.
However, these plans were never fulfilled, because Lilly Kane was brutally murdered before they could even finish high school. Veronica's life spun out of control as she lost her boyfriend, best friend, status, mother, and finally, innocence. Left with no hope and only her father for support, Veronica chopped off her hair and any semblance of the girl she once was.
She buried her sweetness, her fragile, marshmallowy center. She let her sharp wit and intellect resurface. She rediscovered the strength and sass that hadn't been needed of the Sheriff's daughter or Duncan's girlfriend or Lilly's shadow. But Lilly had always hoped it would come back out, and make Veronica interesting again.
But Veronica was lonely, and in pain, and had been laughed out of the police station after being raped, and she grew tough very quickly. She hardened herself and got a camera and devoted her life to vengeance. As darkness consumed her, a light appeared. Wallace, the complete opposite of Lilly, stepped into her life, pried open her shell ever so slowly, and let life back in. She had forgotten fun in her quest to avenge Lilly, going against all Lilly stood for.
She let Troy in next, and, okay, he betrayed her, but at least she let him in. Weevil came after that, a solid alliance that almost seemed like friendship. Dear pregnant Sarah caused her to expand upon concern and affection, though it lead to a disastrous conclusion. Meg and Mac joined Wallace on the list of people who actually cared about her, who she let herself care about. Duncan stopped being so distant and an uncomfortable almost-friendship developed. Even Logan, who had turned against her after Lilly's death, found common ground with Veronica, and they developed some sort of relationship, her most elaborate relationship since she cut off her hair.
Her hair, during this time, had begun to grow, so that now it is not so very short. It lies just below her shoulders, neither short nor long. She is sweet and bold and interesting, just as Lilly had always hoped she would be.