You'll never take us alive
We swore that death will do us part
They'll call our crimes a work of art
You'll never take us alive
We'll live like spoiled royalty, lovers and partners
Partners in crime
---Set It Off, Partners in Crime
Veronica Sawyer stared at the spot where the scrunchie-wearing blonde just smashed through the glass coffee table, limp and moving no more. She looks at J.D., who was in the same state of shock.
"Oh my God, I just killed my best friend!"
"And your worst enemy," Jason adds, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Same difference! Now's not really the time, J.D.! There is a dead Heather laying at our feet!" the brunette exclaims, pacing back and forth. She couldn't believe it. Her best friend yet worst enemy was fucking dead! Veronica was going to be dead if anyone found out.
J.D. could sense her panic and fear. He was going through different scenarios in his head of how to cover this up.
Suicide. Of course. It was that simple.
J.D. smiles to himself. Back when he was in eighth grade, he and a boy got into a fight. J.D. had climbed up into a tree, and--without meaning to, of course--pushed the boy out of the tree, resulting in a broken neck and his death. Afraid of getting caught, he forged a suicide note. Everyone believed it.
He looks at Veronica, a bit coldly, but she didn't notice. "We can always forge a suicide note."
"A suicide?" she muses, her eyes on the corpse.
Jason nods, licking his lips. "Yeah. I mean, you can forge her handwriting, correct?" Not waiting for an answer, he places a copy of Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar in Heather's hand. He stood and looks on as Veronica gets a notepad and pen.
"What should I write?"
He thinks for a moment. "Nobody really understood me…there was a me inside of me, that nobody could ever begin to comprehend…"
"Anything else?" she asks, writing it down carefully.
Jason stared over at the corpse of the scrunchie-wearing blonde. "Though I was popular and hot…nobody seemed to realize that I too, had feelings."
Veronica nods. "That's pretty good. Have you done this before?"
The two stare at Heather's body, half expecting her to get up and yell at them for attempted murder.
* * *
Veronica flinches as she is tapped on the shoulder. She looks over and sees the blonde cheerleader, who was wearing a black dress with a yellow headband.
"How're you feeling, Ronnie? I know you've been upset ever since Heather killed herself, but you should at least cheer up."
How can she cheer up? Veronica killed someone and now every time she's spoken to, she just feels the guilt bubble up and just want to explode. Veronica stares at her shoes, not wanting to speak anymore.
"...Veronica? Are you sure you're alright? You look like you're about to throw up...do you want to go home?"
She shakes her head a bit too quickly. "No, I-I'm fine Heather, really. I'm just still a bit in shock over Heather..."
Heather nods in understanding. "Okay. Just making sure. I'll see you in Algebra, alright?"
Veronica gives a fake smile of approval. "Got it. See ya then."
McNamara grins and walks to Duke, trailing behind her like a lost puppy.
Veronica sighs, closing her locker a bit too forcefully. Everyone was in class now and the hallway was deserted. Well, except for a certain someone in a trenchcoat coming her way.
J.D. gives a smile, which was slightly unsettling. "How is day one without the almighty bitch?"
"Not funny, Jason."
"Just tryin' to lighten the mood, babe. Jesus, this school is like a funeral procession or something."
"Well that's because of us, obviously."
"Hey. I did you and this school a fucking favor, alright? Heather was treating everyone like crap on the bottom of her shoe. You did say that you wanted her to die."
"Not literally, J.D.!"
"It sure sounded like it was literal," he says, shrugging.
Veronica rubs her temples, getting a headache. "Can we just drop it, please? I already have enough guilt eating me alive as it is..."
J.D. holds his hands up in surrender. "Okay, fine. But this isn't the last you'll hear of it. Now how about we ditch this hellhole and go get a slushie?"