Dear Diary:
I believe I'm a good person. Y'know I believe that there's good in everyone but uh... here we are. First day of senior year! And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known all my life and I ask myself—What Happened?—
"Hey. Hey are you listening to me?"
Ronnie jolted back to reality as he was flunked on the forehead with a perfectly manicured nail.
"Yeah, uh, I'm sorry I was just writing," Ronnie looked up from his diary to view a perfect trio of teenage girls, adorned in red, yellow, and green.
"As you always are," the red one replied, "you've always got your nose stuck in that stupid diary, you should start spending your time doing better things. Oh here," she said as she forcefully ripped a page out of his notebook, "Heather bend over," she instructed the green Heather.
That's Heather Duke. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants.
Heather Duke bent over as asked, as the other slapped a paper on her back.
"I want you to write a note for me. Make it in Ram Sweeney's writing, and make it good," she instructed. Without missing a beat, Ronnie was bent over the paper with his pen. She began instructing.
" 'Dear Martha, I remember how we used to play when we were kids. Come to my homecoming party, I want to talk to you.'" The girl dressed in yellow snatched it up as soon as it was written and folded it up.
Heather McNamara. Her dad is LOADED, he sells engagement rings.
"Heather who gave you any rights HONESTLY, and get some lotion, your hand looks like a crocodile's ass," the leader said, snatching the paper right from her hands as Heather Duke stood back up.
Heather Chandler. The almighty.
She is a mythic bitch.
"Heather, I really don't think this is a good idea she really never—"
"Are you questioning me? The last time I checked, I was the one in charge here, I'm the one who calls the shots. You're lucky you're pretty and I keep you around. It makes me look so much better," Heather Chandler walker over to Martha's table. Slowly slipping it onto her tray, she giggled and returned back to the rest. Honestly, Ronnie couldn't help but giggle either. His laughing was cut short by a piercing stare coming from the far right corner of the room.
A man with tar black hair, messy as if it hadn't been washed for days, and likewise greasy. He couldn't tell if it was hair product or actual grease anymore. He had a sly glare to him, dark circles under his eye either from lack of sleep or smudged eyeliner. He adorned a long black trench coat, black jeans, and thick combat boots.
He folded his hands in front of his face, staring intently at Ronnie. They probably stared at each other for about two minutes before Chandler snapped right in front of Ronnie's face, making him jump.
"Hey loser, wake up," Chandler spat. She looked over in the direction that Ronnie was looking and grinned. "Oh. Him."
"That's Jason Dean! He's the new transfer from California. Got here a few days ago," McNamara explained.
"He could use a lot of work," Duke sneered.
Before he could notice, Ronnie's feet were moving below him. He was walking straight towards Jason Dean's table with confidence that he didn't even know he had. As he neared closer, Jason Dean lowered his folded hands and Ronnie sat across from him.
"Heather Chandler likes to do these stupid lunchtime polls," Ronnie began, "they're really dumb questions."
Jason Dean smirked. "There are no stupid questions."
Ronnie melted a little bit. The tone of his voice, smooth like butter yet mellow, and the attitude about him were enough to make him weak to his knees. A smile wiped across his face, cheek to cheek.
"You inherit five million dollars from the lottery the same day aliens say they're gonna blow up the planet in two days. What do you do?"
Jason Dean furrowed his eyebrows and closed his eyes, lips slightly parted before speaking, "That's gotta be the dumbest question I've ever heard."
Ronnie chuckled at his remark.
"But in all seriousness, I would grab a 40, a pack of cigarettes, and drive up to the current with just me and my music."
Ronnie got lost in his words. That's got to be the most humble answer he's heard all day.
"Thank you," he blurted, and walked away before anyone could notice his rosy cheeks.
A few tables down, Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney sat eating their lunches together. Star quarterback and linebacker since middle school, biggest dumbasses and assholes since birth.
"Hey Kurt who's that Bo Diddly lookin' guy over in that corner over there?"
"I don't know... let's kick his ass!" Kurt slammed his fists on the table.
Ram our a hand on his shoulder. "Come on man, we're seniors, we shouldn't do shit like that anymore... but let's give him a little scare."
The two well-built boys stood up and sauntered over to Jason Dean's table. Ram stuck one of his greasy fingers down into the dark teen's mashed potatoes.
"Hey Kurt, doesn't this school have a 'no fags allowed' rule?" Ram snorted.
"No, but they seem to have an open door policy for assholes," Jason Dean retorted.
At that second, Kurt and Ram looked to each other and lunged at him, to which Jason Dean pulled a gun out of his coat, pointed it at the boys, and fired at each of them.
Bam.
Bam.
YOU ARE READING
Our Love Is God
Fanfiction-This is my fiancé and I's Heathers (movie) AU, where JD and Veronica (now Ronnie), are both male- Ronnie... wasn't always his name. His name was legally Veronica, but he wasn't out of the closet yet. He's friends with the prettiest girls in school...
