McNamara Fell Hard For Miss Sawyer

Heather McNamara did not think she was bi. Sure, she'd had a few (but not really) crushes on girls. Like Heather Chandler, when she'd followed her around and dressed like her just to get her to notice her, but that was just jealousy. Or Martha Dunnstock back in kindergarten, when they'd practised kissing behind the toilets and held hands at recess, but that was just a childhood thing.

They were just once-offs, nothing to think about for too long. She'd moved on, grown up. Hooked up with the boys that Heather recommended, and then some. Slept around until at least half of the football team had been inside her. She learned to forget the feelings she'd had towards women.

But when Veronica Sawyers came along, she knew she couldn't hide, or explain away her feelings. She wasn't that pretty (though very cute in a button nose and freckles sort of way) so it wasn't jealousy. She was the top of the class, and she couldn't remember any of the Heathers picking on her before, so it wasn't pity. And she made her crotch itch like it did when she watched the lewd videos Heather Chandler told her to watch.

And now, the object of her affections was drunk, crying at the foot of her bed.

"I'm a hoorible friend!" Veronica moaned, taking another swig of whiskey. Heather's fingers itched to take it off her. "I'm so baaaad."

"No, you're not. You're one of the kindest people at Westerberg High," she soothed. "Now, how about we get you cleaned up and have some food?"

"I deserve this."

"No, you don't. There is nothing you could have done to make you deserve this." She chuckled a bit. "I mean, unless you killed someone."

"I did. I have killed someone."

Shit. Why did she always have to fall for the bad ones? "Who?"

"Heather. I killed Heather Chandler."