Veronica felt Martha's hand in hers, and for a second she couldn't move. Not because she didn't want to. On the contrary, she did. Yet it filled her with hope, and she didn't want to get ahead of herself. So she reminded herself to stay calm, present. Martha had always been so good at believing in people even when she shouldn't have to. And Veronica, well, Veronica still couldn't forgive herself. Not yet. Not for how easily she'd chosen secrecy over loyalty. Not for how selfish she had been.
Relief spread through her, however, so fast it almost made her dizzy; inevitably, hope too. It was small at first, like a candle someone had managed to shield from the storm's wind and was now shining brighter as the sky starts to clear up. She stared at Martha like she might look away and the moment would vanish, like punishment was all Veronica deserved, and surely this was the part where Martha said they couldn't be friends anymore.
Instead, Martha said she didn't want to lose her either. As much as she meant it when she said she would respect whatever decision Martha takes, that doesn't mean it wouldn't have hurt if she decided to end their friendship. Yet, that didn't happen.
It was involuntary, she swears, like her hand alone decided they were being guided by her heart now. She squeezed her hand back, tight enough to anchor herself. Teary eyes, a wobbly small smile that she couldn't control, and a breath she had to take twice before she could speak, followed.
"Okay," Veronica said, voice trembling but determined, as if saying it made it truer. "That means..." Her eyebrows knit together, she takes a pause to compose herself, and looked at Martha with utter sincerity, with the kind of conviction she rarely has been able to feel for herself. "That means the world to me," Veronica continued. "I don't deserve it. I know that. A–and I know—! I know, you're not forgiving me right away. But still, I won't take this for granted."
She swallowed hard, glancing down for a second at the mess on her own lap and fingers. The nail polish that was smeared like evidence, the chemical substance an oil spill across her hands, a reminder of what she had ruined and could not reverse.
"I can’t promise the Heathers won't nag me anymore," she said carefully, honest in the way Martha deserved. "And I can't promise they won't be horrible people under the guise of a prank... But I can promise you, if it happens again, I will stop it from the start."
With that conviction she was feeling also came a wave of annoyance at the thought of the Heathers, but especially at the thought of how she has let them rule over her every decision. Things needed to change, she knows it. After all, change is inevitable. Maybe there was still time to make things right.
"Doesn't matter if they excommunicate me for good," Veronica added, processing the words as she utters them. They were quieter in tone, but louder in meaning. "Losing my best friend is far scarier than bearing a few more month of hellish Westerberg High." Her eyes met Martha's, definitive, lucent. "I'd rather we face it together, like we had promised from the start."
After a sincere smile, Veronica finally let go of Martha's hand to properly wipe her eyes and cheeks, drawing a shaky breath that turned into something almost like a laugh. It was awkward and stuffy, because it was either that or letting her body collapse.
"God... I messed up my nails and makeup real bad," she muttered, glancing down again like the truth was written on her skin. "Wouldn’t want to see myself from your eyes right now. I bet I look like a cheap version of Westley with his mask on..." A moment past, then her mouth tilted into a grin. "Or a raccoon."
