A sex attempt, some red taland, and fire.

Hows my little cheerleader huh?"

Brad said creepy as he sat down next to Veronica. She groaned and moved farther away, but he cornered her at the end of the couch.

If only she could be at home... In her bed... Writing..

She wasn't a cheerleader, Heather Mcnamara was a cheerleader. She thought prancing around in a tiny skirt didn't really suit her... But as she avoided Brad's sight and hugged herself, she'd do anything to get away from here.

"Come one, I know everyone at your highschool isn't so uptight."

He moved forwards.. way to close for Veronica's comfort zone... His hand crept up and down her leg, making her flinch and move.

Veronica felt a deep clawing at her stomach... She felt the rubbery feeling in her throat... She felt the sickness bubbling up inside her as he moved his hand up her dress...

"Look I don't feel so good ok?"

But Brad completely disregarded her statement. In fact, all he did was look around at his surroundings. Where was fit enough to bang?

"Hey let's do it on the coats! It'll be fun!"

Veronicthen sprung up. Brad - fully confident - reclined.. He then admired Veronica's form with the practiced eye of a horse trader...

Veronica huffed, her breath growing fast. Her heart beating in her ears.

She began with full confidence, an excellent copy of heather Chandler.

"You know, I have a little prepared speech for when my suitor wants more than I'm prepared to give him: Gee, blank- I had a really nice-"

But Brad here didn't give two shits.

He scooted down the couch... His crouch right out in the air... He just needed a pretty girl to remove his belt-

"Save the speeches for Malcom X."

He interupted her magificant speach. She had been fed up with this asshole, one more straw and-

"I just want to get laid"

That was it. Veronica grabbed her coat with a look of utmost horror and disgust. With her squinted eyes burning through his facade.

"You don't deserve my fucking speech."

Back in her room....

"Betty Finn was a true friend and I sold her out for a bunch of Swatch-dogs and Diet Coke-heads. Killing Heather would be like offing the Wicked Witch of the West.. wait.. East.. West.. God, I sound like a fucking psycho!"

Outside the coat room Veronica was ready to collapse... Her breath unsteady... Her legs ready to give out.. her knees buckling... She pushed herself up against a wall and heaved deeplyy, trying to get some air... She tumbled forwarda.. maybe she'd find heather... But this made her more nauseous.. she decided to stay right there.

But what happened next made Veronica wanna hurl even more.

A red claw snagged Veronica's arm. Her arm was already black and blue from the amount of times heather had done this today, she dlinched and tryed to focus her eyes on Heather's squinted blue ones.

This was the heather Veronica knew. The one she wanted to hug and ask for help... As if.

"What's your damage?"

She said angerly, her eyes pericing Veronica's soul.

"Brad says you're being a real kuse."

But Veronica was barly listening she adjusted herself to face heather easier... She was surely gonna vomit..

"Heather I really sick like I'm gonna throw up so can we jam now?"

Veronica searched for a single flash of compassion in Heather's beady eyes, but whatever was there was hidden beneath her mask.

"NO! HELL NO"

Veronica opened her mouth to answer... For something..

But all she could do was puke all over the floor- barly missing Heather's Gucci heels.

Things are starting to make sense now in Veronica's room..

"Tomorrow, I'll be kissing her aerobicised ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Heather - a world where I am free."

We can assume that Veronica has told Heather a few things, even whilst wiping the puke from her chin. She left with heather...via a side door into an alley. Braced by the clear night air, she passes by that burning trash can. Heather Chandler comes out after her... Veronica stops, turns. Now, Heather has something to say..

"YOU - STUPID - FUCK"

"YOU GOD-DAMMED BITCH"