2009

Veronica

It was her third day back in her hometown, and Veronica was already sick of it. She hated the weather, she hated how the streets all looked the same, and how everything was so dull, and most of all, she hated the stares.

Veronica knew what she was getting herself into when she decided to come back because she had gone through it all thousands of times before; the strange looks, the things people whispered when they thought she couldn't hear them, the rumors... she wanted to tell every single one of them to go fuck themselves.

She walked fast, the cold air hitting her in the face and burning her nostrils every time she took in a breath, but in a way, she found it all comforting.

She shoved her trembling hands inside the pocket of her jacket. She felt something hard inside her left pocket and grabbed it. It was her sobriety coin, celebrating her 3 months sober. The first time she tried to get sober, Veronica felt so proud of herself for getting that far, but after receiving the same coin several other times, and disappointing herself and everyone around her every time she failed, it stopped feeling special.

Veronica threw the token on the floor, the small object now as meaningless as the chewed up gum it fell next to. The only reason she had lasted three months was that there was no way she could fall off the wagon while in rehab but that was over and Veronica had no intentions of remaining sober.

15 minutes later she stood in front of her house, its old and depressing exterior not at all welcoming, but it was cheap, cheap enough that she was able to keep paying for it while she was out of town, to save her the trouble of having to find a new one and keep all of her crappy furniture in storage.

Veronica glanced at her overflowing mailbox, that was one of the many things she had been procrastinating about since she got back. With a tired sigh, she walked over to it and took the pile of letters out, skimming through them with indifference. Bills, rejection letters from jobs she had applied to, magazines, more bills...

In the heap of papers, one caught her attention.

Westerburg's high school reunion. Class of 89.

Veronica felt dizzy just by looking at it. One thing, something as innocent as a letter was enough to make her want to throw up. She gulped, forcing down the wad of anxiety that felt like glass shards on her throat, and tried to steady her breathing.

"Crazy weather, right?" said a voice behind her, startling Veronica and causing her to drop her mail on the floor. It had rained that morning, and the ground was still wet, soaking everything within seconds.

"Fuck..." she cursed. She turned her head to look at whoever was behind her. It was a woman, perhaps a few years younger than her, but Veronica had no recollection of her. Sherwood was a small town, everyone knew or at the very least recognized each other, so it was safe to assume the woman wasn't from there.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!" she apologized.

"It's fine, I was distracted," Veronica said as she kneeled down. The woman mimicked her moves, helping her gather her belongings from the floor. "Thanks."

"Here you go," the woman handed her the papers with a smile. "You sure have a lot of mail," she chuckled.

"I was away for a while."

"I just got here myself. Work stuff," the stranger said. "I'm Vivian, by the way."

"Veronica," she replied but she didn't retribute the smile. "What kind of work leads you to a shitty place like this?"

Veronica didn't think that was a hard question, but the stranger took a few seconds to respond.

"I work for The Columbus Dispatch," she said, carefully. "I'm a reporter."

Veronica felt her entire body tensing up. She recoiled a step. A random, kind stranger approaching her out of nowhere. How did she fall for that? "So you know who I am, then?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"You're Veronica Sawyer. You're one of the Rottweilers." the reporter said. Veronica hated being called that; the media, the school, the entire fucking town would always refer to them by the name of their soccer team, to them Veronica and the rest of the survivors weren't their own persons, everyone acted like the accident had bounded them together forever and nothing that happened before or after that mattered, as if their lives would always be revolved around that and no matter how hard they tried, they would never escape it.

Vivian took a step forward, slightly raising her hands as a sign of surrender like she was dealing with a feral kitten and she feared any sudden movements would scare it away. "I just want to talk."

"I don't talk to reporters," Veronica said. "But I'm guessing you already knew that."

She turned her back to Vivian and started to walk in the direction of the front door, but stopped when the reporter spoke up.

"Other people do, though."

"What?" Veronica made her way back to where Vivian was standing.

"I've spent the last three days talking to your old teachers and classmates. They didn't tell me what happened, obviously, but they talked about you and your friends," Vivian said. "We're gonna publish what they said and they're gonna get paid. For something that didn't even happen to them. They're gonna profit off of your tragedy, do you think that's fair?"

"You're the one who interviewed them, so you tell me," Veronica crossed her arms in front of her chest. She started to dig her nails into her jacket to stop herself from punching the other woman in the face.

"I was only doing my job," Vivian defended herself. "Just give me 5 minutes, please. If you don't like what I have to say I will leave you alone, I swear."

***

Veronica's house was not made to welcome guests. It wasn't big enough, and it definitely wasn't pretty or cozy enough. So the two of them stayed in the kitchen.

"Before anything, I just have to say how much I admire you and your friends. You're survivors," Vivian began. "I can't imagine what you all went through."

Unlike the reporter, who had found herself a seat, Veronica decided to stand, leaning on her kitchen cabinet, arms still folded. She made no effort to appear welcoming. "I know, that's why you reporters have been harassing us since the moment we got back, right?" she said. "Desperate to get us to talk. To me, you're all just a bunch of vultures."

"We just want to know the truth."

"You know the truth," Veronica replied. "We were on our way to Nationals, then our plane crashed, a few of our friends died and the rest of us starved, scavenged, and prayed for 19 months until they finally found us."

Vivian looked disappointed. For a second she reminded Veronica of Ms. Fleming, every time she asked a question to a student and they answered it wrong. "I know that's the answer all of you have been telling the press for the past 20 years. But I know there's more to it. There's more history, more details..."

"Maybe there is," Veronica said. She tried her hardest to control her voice, so Vivian couldn't realize how much she was shaking. "But maybe those details are better left untold."

Vivian clicked her tongue. "Are they really? This story could change your life and-"

"This story has changed my life. It took two years of my life," Veronica cut her off. "It took my sanity, and it took my friends..."

"I know, but now it can change it for the better! You can get a lot of money from this."

"I don't care."

"What if I told you that the others are interested?" Vivian questioned her.

Vivian was smart for making a move like that, but Veronica wasn't going to back down either. "Then I would say that you're lying."

This time, Vivian looked satisfied with her answer. She gave Veronica a smug smile. "And the fact with you say that with so much conviction makes me believe that you're still in touch with each other."

"I don't care what you believe, I haven't spoken to any of them in years," Veronica gave her a shrug. "I wouldn't know how to get a hold of them even if I wanted to, and I don't want to. I've moved on and I hope they were able to do the same." Veronica wasn't sure if that last part was genuinely true or if she just had said it so many times that she started to believe it.

"I could get you an exclusive interview and a book deal, with your name on the cover," Vivian tried again. She was so invested in the conversation that she got up from her seat. "I'm talking 7 plus digits here, Veronica."

"I'm not interested, thank you."

"This could be a huge opportunity for you," Vivian insisted. "I mean, come on, you were a genius, highest GPA of the entire school, an elite athlete, popular, early admission to Stanford...is this really how you thought your life was gonna turn out?"

Vivian sucked in a breath when she realized what she said. Veronica laughed bitterly.

"I- I didn't mean it like that..." Vivian scrambled to form an apology.

Veronica walked towards her. She was seething inside, but she managed to speak out the words with an eerie calmness; in spite of that, Vivian looked terrified.

"I don't give a shit what you meant, you smug little bitch," Veronica said, inches away from Vivian's face. "You don't know a fucking thing about my life."

Vivian blinked, but before she could respond, Veronica walked towards the front door and opened it, a wordless invitation for Vivian to let herself out.

"Take this in case you change your mind," Vivian handed Veronica her card, before walking away. Veronica closed the door behind her and threw the card in the trash.

She needed a fucking drink.