Okay. Now we can start getting into the good stuff. Also, sorry I forgot, but the cover art is from Reddit user OfficialVeronicaSawyer, so thank you so much for redoing the poster so Ana could be there! Yes, she's the blonde girl in the pale blue. Her hair's actually a little shorter and even curlier, and she doesn't have her own Heather outfit yet, but yep, that's what she looks like.

When I opened my eyes, breathing normally, with all the symptoms gone, I expected to be in Heaven. Not in what looked mostly like my bedroom at home, with a few differences. Instead of my Smartphone, a…was that a Walkman?...lay on my dresser, with cord earbuds, not wireless ones like the ones I usually had. I knew what a Walkman was, but I'd never even seen one. No one listened to tapes anymore. I'd seen Discmans when I was very small, but I had all my music streamed on my SmartPhone now. I'd had an iPod mini when I started junior high, but I certainly had never had a Walkman, a portable tape player.

Either way, I got up, drew the curtains away from my bay window (it opened out from the middle, with two panes) – and again, something was wrong. It didn't look like winter at all. It was bright and sunny. Not a cloud in the sky. Everything looked lush and green. It looked nothing like the winter I'd left behind at home. This was clearly summer – had I not died? Had I just gone into a coma and woken up healthy, but missed half the year? It looked as if I'd completely skipped spring, and had somehow been shipped home since that horrible holiday in Wuhan.

I had a calendar on my wall, so I checked it. I mean, it wasn't a total shock when I saw that the page up read SEPTEMBER. I knew from the weather that it was late summer or early fall. But then I looked at the dates. They were totally wrong. September of 2020 was meant to start on a Tuesday – I remembered last year's Monday because it had been the first day of senior year - but this said it was on a Friday. None of that made any sense!

Either way, I got up groggily and went to shower, put on makeup, get dressed in my black jeans and a fitted black T-shirt that read "This girl runs on books and hot chocolate" in white and all that jazz. It still looked like home outside my room, too, but there still seemed to be a few things around that looked off, just like the Walkman. Then I tugged a comb through my blonde hair, made sure there were no tangles and that my ringlets hadn't gone frizzy (I didn't mind having curly natural ringlets and I kept it just above shoulder-length, but it could be a pain to keep neat), and finally went downstairs.

It was a shock to find my Mom actually there. Dad wasn't, but still, Mom was usually up and out of the house at work before I was. And home long after.

"Morning, honey!" Mom greeted me. "Seeing as it's your first day of senior year, especially at a new school, I called in a little late so I could see you off."

I frowned, trying to readjust my brain. A new school? The first day of senior year? No wonder it looked like summer – it must have been the start of September. But that didn't explain the calendars. Or why my Smartphone had disappeared and why I had a Walkman – and some tapes that I found in my bookcase

"I feel a bit fuzzy," I said carefully. "Can you remind me of the date?"

Mom looked concerned and a little like she was going to nag. "Did you stay up late again, Ana? September fourth. Or is it just that you're nervous about moving to Westerburg? I know you'll miss your old friends, but it has a very good reputation for extracurriculars and getting people into college. Senior year is so important!"

The name of the school struck me too. Westerburg? Like the name of the school in Heathers? And that movie took place in Ohio, too…I checked that Mom wasn't looking at me and shook my head violently, trying to bring myself back to my senses.

"I'm a little nervous," I said honestly. "It feels like I just woke up and everything was different." Another thought struck me. If it was September 4th, and Mom clearly didn't seem to think I'd been in a coma, and I certainly felt fine, what year was it?

But I couldn't ask Mom that. She'd think I was really insane then. While I was obediently checking everything in my schoolbag was packed (water bottle, textbooks, asthma meds and inhaler if I needed them), I took a peek inside my labelled textbooks, with my name and the year.

1989.

Somehow, I seemed to have gone back thirty years. Maybe this was some kind of weird dream. Maybe I had died and something had gone wrong and instead of dying, I'd just ended up being the same age, reincarnated at the age I was at death but in the past for some reason. Maybe I was just having a very vivid out-of-body experience while I was dying and I was between life and death. But either way, it was a weird coincidence that I was going to a school that featured in a musical, the same year (at least as the musical – the movie came out the year before, probably because it took place in junior year and the musical took place in senior). Maybe that Westerburg was named after a real school that existed at the time. It wasn't like I was actually going to a school with fictional characters.

Okay, I told myself. I'd just have to play along, figure out what was going on. Maybe it would be better than what my real life was like. At least I wasn't lying on a bed in a hotel room, dying. In a way, it made me feel like I cared a little more about what happened. For all I knew, classes in this school could be better. At least I still had the same parents. It's not like I'd miss my friends, really. We barely hung out anymore, and I'd lost interest in most things. At least muddling through 1989 would give me something to do.

In fact, I'd been feeling uninterested in everything ever since senior year started. It was like I was living in a fog, separate from everything else. 1989 couldn't be any worse than that. I'd just have to take this new chance to see if I actually could enjoy the year this time.

It wasn't like I was really okay with it. But it was easier to just accept it and pretend that everything was fine rather than keep thinking about how much I wanted to freak out and find out what had really happened to me. If I played along and pretended I was fine, maybe I'd get used to it and stop feeling like everything I knew was wrong.

One of the things I missed a lot as soon as I got into my car (at least I still had one, even though it was a small white hatchback, not my much sleeker silver Mazda, a seventeenth birthday present) was Google Maps. It was just lucky I knew how to drive a manual car. I thanked my lucky stars as I put it into reverse. Mom had to remind me of the address of Westerburg High and I had to pore over a map, but it was only about five minutes' drive away. No problem, I thought.

Right. I got lost twice and had to turn around, but eventually I found the school and got a park. And, no joke, all the other girls were wearing Mom jeans or leggings and jackets with shoulderpads, or tracksuits – no, shell suits. Nothing like me. My black jeans were skinny, it was far too hot for a jacket, and even if it wasn't, I preferred cardigans. Some of the girls were wearing T-shirts, but they mostly weren't fitted and didn't have a scoop neck – most of them were baggy, and none were as plain as mine – many of them had neon designs. I hadn't known what Eighties fashion looked like, and all my clothes still looked like I'd bought them in 2019. I was going to stick out like…not a sore thumb, that wouldn't be as painful…an unaligned bone.

I had to find the office first to get my timetable, and then try to figure out where homeroom was before the bell rang and I got yelled at. At least I did find it. I got there on time. I just had to act confident and find a group to slot into as soon as possible. And ask every teacher I came across to call me Ana. I didn't know if teachers in 1989 allowed nicknames, but I would die again if my classmates knew me as Indiana. I wouldn't mind if my name was shortened another way, but Ana felt the most like me.

Still, the style at this school was… well, 1989. I knew that my wardrobe, even though I'd found the same clothes in my dresser and closet as the ones in 2019, was so different to what these kids were wearing. How would I find a group when I dressed thirty years too late?

Well, I knew that long cardigans were coming into fashion soon, and skinny jeans were a 2000s thing. That wasn't too far ahead. Maybe I could get away with the kids thinking I was just ahead of the curve. Or I could find out if I still had money in my bank account (assuming I still had one) and buy a new outfit as soon as I could.

I almost groaned out loud when I realized that meant I'd have to go to an actual bank. Internet banking didn't exist yet. Luckily I caught myself before I actually did it.

It wasn't until lunchtime that I started noticing the weirdest thing about this new timeline. I didn't have to sit alone in the cafeteria, and I kept an eye out for anyone who might think it was funny to dump on the new kid. An overweight girl wearing a pink sweater with a unicorn on it waved me over.

"Lucky for me that you were looking for somewhere," the girl said in a perky tone. "I don't like sitting alone. My best friend usually sits with me, but…" and she waved her hand in the direction of another table, where a group of girls were sitting.

I looked where she was pointing, and my mouth literally dropped open. I knew those girls. They looked just how I imagined them – not quite like they were in the movie, not quite like they were in the musical, since there was more than one performance I'd watched on YouTube. But there they were, four girls in primary-coloured jackets with shoulderpads and plaid miniskirts, knee socks and Mary Janes, all talking together like there was no tomorrow. A blonde in yellow, a strawberry-blonde in red and two brunettes, one in green and one in blue. Lots of kids were staring curiously at them. Mainly the girl in blue.

I turned back to the girl, and realized who she was. Okay, so being dead and suddenly showing up in 1989 was one thing. I could handle that once I'd come to terms with it. But landing at the start of Heathers? That didn't make any sense. And judging by the fact that this girl who'd waved me over had to be Martha Dunnstock, I at least knew it was the musical. The girl in the movie was practically antisocial because she was so badly bullied. As she introduced herself, I got exactly what I expected. I smiled at her and introduced myself, too. "Ana Jordan."

Okay, I'd listened to the cast recording millions of times, and I knew the story. I could do this. And as a matter of fact, one of my theatre crushes did show up in this story, who was actually my age and might possibly be interested in me if I made an effort to get to know him. At least, I hoped so.

If anything, this made me feel easier and more excited about being here. This was something I knew about. Something that I was really an expert about.

I scanned the lunchroom as my thoughts continued, looking for the main cast. Unfortunately, I couldn't differentiate who was who on the football team. They all seemed to be sitting together, a sea of buff guys in varsity jackets. There was no way I could figure out which one was Kurt Kelly and which one was Ram Sweeney.

I looked further. I'd already seen Veronica with the Heathers, so I knew where they were. It didn't give me any trouble figuring out which was which, either, since they were colour-coordinated. Heather Chandler had her back to me, so I could even see her signature scrunchie, toning with the red in her hair. I had one more person to look for.

No dice. No kid sitting on their own in a corner – no one in black at all, actually. Except me.

"What are you looking at?" Martha asked me. I turned back to her. She was smiling sincerely as she asked me.

"Um, nothing," I mumbled. "Just…you know, scoping out the school. It's not easy, being new."

"Absolutely, I totally get it," Martha said sympathetically. "At least you're pretty and don't look shy, so the transition should be easy for you."
I felt flattered. Me, pretty? My hair was nice when it was neat and not tangled, yeah, but my blue eyes looked grey from a distance, my skin dried out easily and I wasn't even slim. I mean, I was thinner than Martha, but since I wasn't allowed to exercise much, I had to really watch what I ate and while I was average, I could have stood to lose a bit. "I don't dress like the rest of you, though," I pointed out. "Not that I want to conform, but I've had kids stare at me in the halls."

"Don't worry about that," Martha reassured me, "I don't follow the trends either."

I held back on pointing out that she got picked on heavily. I didn't expect her to admit that to me, and I couldn't let her know that I knew. That would freak her out.

But I could work this to my advantage. Just because JD wasn't in school yet didn't mean he wouldn't arrive sometime. Maybe he just wasn't in town yet. All I had to do was wait.

I figured that Martha wouldn't mind having a new girl sit with her, considering that Veronica's deserted her. Okay, that sounds dramatic, but whatever. And yep, that's what I was working up to – Ana likes a lot of musical theatre, but not every musical has a cute, age-appropriate and dangerous guy. We'll explore more about why she likes him later on. Also, I did change the date a little. September 1st 1989 was a Friday, so I made September 4th the first day of senior year instead, since it was the first Monday in September.

Oh, and Westerburg was actually named after the singer/songwriter in Winona Ryder's favourite band at the time of the movie. It does not exist. Sherwood also doesn't exist. Ana comes from Ohio, but these didn't exist in her original timeline.