Morning after! Thanks for your review, PrincessCrystalgem and Gucci Mane LaFlare.
The next morning, Gwen woke up screaming. Trent was still beside her, but he was awake immediately, asking "What's wrong?"
"A nightmare," Gwen told him. It had been awful. Heather somehow had known what she'd done after she left the party, and kept calling her a slut and saying she was going to tell everyone about how she was easy and would do it with just anyone, even someone she barely knew. And as the nightmare sank in, she realized that maybe this wasn't so far from the truth. "I need to get to Heather's house as soon as possible."
"I thought you expelled yourself from her group?" Trent said, confused.
"Yeah, and I need to get back in," Gwen explained. "What we did last night – it was amazing, but it won't stop her from ruining my life for the next year. I don't even know if I'll survive until June if I don't make my way back. I'll be totally on my own if I don't." Because even the clique she hated was better than being someone even the lowest of the low would bully or refuse to associate with.
Trent put an arm around Gwen. "You won't. If you want me, I'll stick with you. I don't care what Heather says. But if you really want to try to win her back, I'll come with you. Moral support." He paused, adding something. 'By the way, how did you find out where I lived?"
Gwen blushed. "I, um, recognized your motorbike. I saw it outside the Seven-Eleven last night. So when I was walking home – well, that's when I saw it. And then I walked around the house until I found the window to your room." She paused, looking down shyly, and added "By the way? You were my first."
Trent kissed her forehead. "You were mine, too. I feel like this is the start of something good." He paused, and added "Your makeup's a bit smudged. If you want to clean up first, the bathroom's just across the hall. My dad's away for the weekend, so no need to worry. He won't be back until tomorrow evening, probably."
That was a relief. At least no one had heard anything they'd done last night.
By the time Gwen was done with fixing herself up and getting dressed, Trent was also ready. He was wearing the same coat he'd been wearing the day before, and Gwen just knew without asking that he probably never left the house without it.
Luckily, Gwen remembered where Heather's house was. Her parents' car was gone. Gwen cupped her hands around her mouth, calling "Heather? I'm here to apologize!"
A window at the top of the house slid open, and Heather, obviously just having gotten out of bed but with her long hair still shiny like a waterfall, stuck her head out. "Oh, hi, weird former goth girl!" she called, venom in her tone. "You wanna apologize and get my favour back, huh? Well, you can go and walk your loser ass straight back down my path, because I'm not interested,"
"Come on, Heather!" Gwen called back pleadingly. "I was drunk last night. I didn't mean what I said. Can we at least talk?"
Heather paused. Then she started to smirk. "Okay, then. Make me your best hangover cure and I'll think about it. The door's unlocked."
So Gwen and Trent walked in unchallenged, and Gwen started setting up the drink, putting it in a chunky mug. Trent, however, started joking around, looking around the rest of the cupboards. "Hey," he said, pulling out a container, "You should try giving her this instead."
It was drain cleaner. Gwen laughed. "Yeah, let's poison her. Until she realizes what it is, huh?"
Trent laughed with her, putting it in another mug. "We'll put it in this, since it's ceramic. Now she won't know what she's drinking."
The two of them were laughing over the joke, when they heard Heather yelling from upstairs. "You two done laughing and ready to bring up my drink yet?"
"Yes, Heather!" Gwen called wearily, before grabbing one of the mugs and heading up. Trent followed her quietly.
Heather was sitting up in bed when they found her. For once, she was out of red, wearing a little white T-shirt with a rabbit on it and since her covers were mostly thrown off, her pink shorts were also visible. Although her hair was still perfect, she wasn't wearing her makeup, but she still looked as if she was ready for the runway.
Gwen set the mug on Heather's bedside table. "Thanks," Heather said, unsmiling. "So, let's hear you."
"Um, well," Gwen began, hesitantly, "Last night was kind of heated, and I didn't-"
"I don't think that standing over me is an appropriate begging stance," Heather interrupted. "I know – why don't you do this on your knees? Maybe your boy toy here would like a glimpse of how you look when you kneel for him."
Gwen pretended not to have heard that comment and obediently got down on her knees before apologizing again.
Heather waited for a few moments after she was finished, smiling down, enjoying the moment. "Nice," she said, "But you're still dead from Monday." Then, she finally took the mug from her and started gulping the liquid down.
It took less than thirty seconds. Heather suddenly started coughing violently, her face going red as she started to choke. Red graduated to purple rapidly. Blue liquid dribbled out of her mouth.
"Corn…Nuts…" she coughed out. For a second, she locked eyes with Gwen. She could see the fear of death there, but there was something else. Hate shot out of those grey orbs. Then Heather collapsed back on her bed, her eyes still wide with the shock of suddenly dying, the light in them fading.
"Oh my God…" Gwen whispered. "I took the wrong mug, didn't I?" She turned on Trent. "Why did you put the drain cleaner in a mug, you idiot?"
"Hey, I was just kidding around!" Trent defended himself. "I didn't realize it was the wrong mug until she was already drinking it!" Not totally true, but he really hadn't meant Gwen to serve Heather poison. He just decided on the spur of the moment not to tell her when she took the other mug, and yet, he'd loved the way it felt when she began to drink it. What a rush it was to have finished off the Queen of Mean.
"Look on the bright side," he went on. "You won't die on Monday. I somehow don't think your other popular friends will try too hard to follow her example."
"And what about fingerprints?" Gwen said, sounding almost hysterical. "The cops are going to think I did this on purpose! Why else would there be drain cleaner in a mug?"
An idea crossed Trent's mind. "Wait a second! You were the girls' forgery pet, right? You could fake Heather's handwriting. Write a suicide note. You knew her. You know what she'd say in it. Go on." He picked up a notebook belonging to Heather, tore a page out and handed it to Gwen, along with a novelty pen fashioned to look like a quill with a crimson feather. Probably her parents' idea of a joke. Gwen knew Heather's parents called her "Heather-Feather" in fond moods, even in front of her friends.
She didn't have much of a choice now. She started writing, almost feverishly, making her writing small and spiky, like Heather's usual style. She made sure to word it carefully, the way Heather spoke.
"Dear World, I know life seemed perfect to me. I was smart, I was pretty, I was popular. But there was so much pressure on me to keep that position at the top of the social heap. You have no idea what I really felt like…"
It took ten minutes of writing before Gwen was satisfied with the note. She placed the note on Heather's chest, moving her hand to rest on it.
Trent smiled at her reassuringly. "That'll be enough to fool the cops," he said, again, trying to make her feel better about this all. "Now let's go. Are you sure you don't drink slushies? I know I need one after all that."
Gwen didn't usually drink slushies, but then again, she didn't usually accidentally kill people. "What the hell," she said. "Maybe the brain freeze is just what I need right now." She climbed on the back of Trent's motorbike and wrapped her arms around him as they headed for the Seven-Eleven.
So yeah, Trent didn't necessarily plan to kill Heather, but I think he kind of enjoyed the rush he got from it. That's not good.
Also, for anyone who frequents AO3, this story is there under the penname "strawberrysoulforever", so don't worry, if you see that, it's still me.