Duke stepped out of the bathroom stall, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her hoodie. She looked like a wreck; her hair was frizzy, she wore plain sneakers instead of her usual ankle boots, and she wore an oversized hoodie with no makeup. This was the most casually I'd ever seen any of the Heathers dress.

"Grow up, Heather, bulimia is so outdated." Mac leaned closer to the mirror, applying lip gloss.

"You're starting to sound like Heather," Duke muttered, leaning against the wall.

I went to stand beside her. "Maybe you should see a doctor."

She shrugged. "Doesn't matter anyway. It's just weird without Heather being here, y'know?"

"I can't believe she killed herself," Mac agreed.

Guilt filled my stomach. I nodded silently, my heart pounding in my chest. "Yeah..."

I walked into the cafeteria to see JD waiting for me by the trash cans. I told the Heathers I'd be right back and ran over to him.

"Hey." I fidgeted with my jacket sleeve. I kept seeing it over and over in my head, Heather crashing to the floor. The note I wrote in her handwriting. I hadn't gotten any sleep and had used a shit ton of makeup to conceal the dark circles under my eyes.

JD grinned at me. "Hey. How're you doin'?"

"Not great," I answered truthfully.

"It'll be okay, Veronica. Trust me," he said quietly, pulling me into a hug. I clung to his black hoodie, inhaling his scent. Breathing in his presence. I felt safe near him. Like we were meant to be together.

I buried my face in his chest. "Heather's dead,  JD. I can't see how it will be okay."

His arms around me tightened. "You've got me, okay? What happened to my brave dead girl walking? Just trust me. I'll make this whole town disappear."

I looked up at him, a weak smile on my face.

"Have I ever told you how perfect you are?" He said, brushing hair out of my face. "Especially those perfect blue eyes." He glanced over at the Heathers table and I sighed, knowing I should head back over there. "Never change, Veronica. I'll see you later."

I tapped my pencil on the desk anxiously. I couldn't focus. I couldn't do this. How was I supposed to sit through math class when I'd killed someone?

Suddenly over the intercom I heard the principal's voice, "there will be an assembly in the gym after this class hour."

The bell was about to ring in less than five minutes and I spent those five minutes freaking out over what the assembly was for. Probably a memorial for Heather or some shit. Fuck.

I can't do it. I can't sit through a speech on suicide prevention and kindness and bullying and shit when I know I'm the one who killed her. I can't sit there listening to people who hated Heather talk about how much they miss her. I can't take the thought of the paranoia I'm going to feel, thinking everyone is staring at me. Thinking they know. I can't. The thought of it makes me feel sick.

Dread settling over me, I followed everyone else to the gym, my head kept low.

I'd seen Les Mis exactly one time and I knew exactly one line and it happened to apply right now. Look down, look down, don't look him in the eye...

As I got into the gym I saw crazy-as-a-bat Ms. Fleming with a microphone and knew I was in for the worst assembly of my life.

"As all of you know, we are still processing the loss of Miss Heather Chandler, and because of this I think it's necessary for the entire student body of Westerburg to think about what really caused this. As most of you know, Heather chose to take her own life, and that's a choice I'm sure many of you have considered. And it's an important choice, since it's literally life or death. So if there's anything anyone wants to say, please step forward."

I really felt sick. Take her own life. No, it was taken from her. By me. I'm a killer.

I could feel tears running down my face but I didn't give a fuck anymore. Several others were crying anyway. I walked over to where Macnamara and Duke we're sitting and sat down beside them, both of whom were also crying.

Someone stepped up. I didn't recognize him at first. A yearbook kid, I think, kind of nerdy. Had glasses. David or Louis or something. Ms. Fleming handed him he microphone.

"I guess that Heather really was the most insecure out of all of us in a way, she was watched by everyone here. So much pressure to be the best. And... I guess that Heather really wasn't who we thought she was. No one here is. We all have different thoughts and feelings that no one knows, y'know?"

"Good," Ms. Fleming said, taking the mic back and passing it to the next kid.

"Heather and I weren't really friends, but I think she was a good person, deep down. But she wasn't able to show it. And it must hurt, knowing people don't like you for who you really are."

This went on till the end of the day. Three hours of people talking about Heather and how she was secretly caring and kind and deserved better.

No. She was a bitch.

But she did deserve better. She didn't deserve murder.

I still can't believe I did what I did. Immediately after the assembly I ran to the bathroom and vomited. Not because of a disease or eating disorder like Duke, but because of the pure anxiety. I couldn't breathe. I was hyperventilating. I can't take it.

I stumbled out of the bathroom to my locker, where JD was waiting for me. He smiled when he saw me coming but immediately looked concerned. "Are you okay? You look upset."

I broke down in tears and he pulled me close. "Shhh," he whispered into my ear. "I love you, okay? That's all we need is each other. I love you. I would trade my life for yours. We are perfect and crazy and chaotic and I would never change it, Veronica. This world isn't ready for how amazing our love is. Just you wait, Veronica. Just you wait."

I continued sobbing into his sweatshirt. I couldn't stop. I tried to relax, to focus on his voice, but I just couldn't.

"Let's go get a slushee."