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Go-To Girl	By : CeeCee Category: Comics > Archie & Co. Views: 2558 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the Archies fandom. The Archies are owned by Archie Comics. I make no money for writing this piece of sh- I mean, fiction.

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Go-To Girl
Summary: Question: How do you make the aloof guy like the awkward girl? Answer: Convince him he can’t have her. Archie/Ethel
Author’s Note: Not sure where I’m going with this. However, this is in response to a challenge issued by sintah, an excellent brainstormer and Beggie author, who has fed my considerable insanity and addiction to Ethel.
Ethel steeled herself and fought the butterflies in her stomach as she shyly approached the bank of lockers to the left of the library door. Locker three-eighty-one. Its door had a dent, the souvenir of a scuffle between Reggie and Big Moose. It also hung open wide, revealing only the back of its owner’s silhouette. Ethel hugged her books to her chest and minutely fluffed her bangs before she breathlessly spoke up. “Hi, Juggie.” Her heart flipped when she heard him pause in his rummaging, right before he ducked back from his task and confronted her voice.
His face was an unreadable mask, filling her with icy panic. Tellingly, his body remained partly obscured by his locker door, as though he would place it as a wall between them. Quick, Ethel Lorraine! Say something clever! “Cleaning house?” she offered.
“Lost cause,” he shrugged, and she wanted to clap her hands as he made eye contact. His were almond-shaped and slate blue, and his dark brows were arched, perfect for raising in mock surprise or cocking one at a time in disbelief.
“Oh, it can’t be that bad,” she argued cheerfully, and she felt like she was barging in as she skirted around to the side for a better peek.
She almost wished she hadn’t. Forsythe P. Jones, her unrequited crush since kindergarten, aka Jughead… was a slob. “Want me to get a wastebasket?” she suggested politely. She wrinkled her nose briefly at the odor of sweat socks, a crumpled Fritos bag, and something unnamable that beggared her imagination.
“Nah. I’m good.” He stepped back and gave the door a cavalier slam with his foot and began to lope away. His stride was lanky, but she kept up with him easily as he made his way down the crowded corridor.
“Did you study for the history quiz?”
“More or less.”
“Want my notes?”
“I’m fine.”
“Or flash cards. I have them right here in my purse.”
He sighed heavily and tried to ignore her. “Got my own. I think I’m ready for the quiz, Bee.” Ethel cringed.
There it was. That damned nickname again. Big Ethel. Was that how everyone still saw her? Every year that she could remember, Ethel Muggs was the tallest girl in class, towering over two-thirds of the boys in Riverdale Elementary, Riverdale Middle School, Riverdale Junior, and how the good ol’ Blue and Gold. “Want a mint? It’s nice to have something to suck on. I always thought so… er…” She blushed furiously when it occurred to her what she just said. “I mean, uh, suck on… uh, have something to do with your mouth – my mouth – when you’re testing, I mean, when I’m taking a test. Geez…”
A voice in her head screamed out, What the heck are you doing? Followed shortly by Don’t look at his mouth… darn it. Darn it, darn it, darn it! She forced herself to look into his eyes and mustered her courage. Ethel held out a roll of Pep-O-Mint Lifesavers with a long curl of foil paper peeled back from the end. “Want one?” she blurted out, wishing she could sink into the ground.
Jughead’s expression lived somewhere in the avenue between Amusement Street and Annoyance Drive. He kept walking, and Ethel hurried ahead of him to open the classroom door. To her delight, he nudged her hand from the knob and nodded for her to go in first. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” she gushed.
“You’re a girl. I kinda did.” But it was something, right?
Right?
“Sure you don’t want one?” she said, brandishing the mints again. Jug shrugged and waited patiently for her to pop one of the mints out from the roll and drop it into his palm. He tossed it into his mouth and muttered “Thanks.”
“Sure.” Her cheeks were flaming again, but this time she felt triumphant.
She was wearing him down. Slowly but surely.
Miss Grundy sauntered to the front of the class with a stack of quiz sheets and her lesson book. Her low, sensible heels thumped over the bland gray tile, and her flowery perfume tickled Ethel’s nose. It was an excusable offense; Ethel loved Miss Grundy’s history and English classes. “I want those books under your seats. Sharpen your pencils. Let me know if you don’t have one. I hope you reviewed Chapter Ten last night and used your flash cards.” She was greeted by a few groans of disappointment. Ethel wasn’t concerned; she’d studied all week. It was easy enough to do, when she didn’t have anywhere special to be.
Her cell phone had been silent all week, except for a call from Betty to ask her if she was making anything for the junior/senior prom bake sale fundraiser. Ethel wondered what she was doing wrong.
She’d helped him with carrying things from his car and unloading his drum kit from the back of Moose’s pickup when he had gigs. She’d attended all of his gigs. She brought him his homework when he was home sick with the flu. She backed him brownies, the rocky road ones and the oatmeal bars. She lent him soda money when he misplaced his wallet and treated him at Pop’s to “sweeten the deal” when she asked him to meet her to study at the library. He agreed. They ate. And he casually stood her up.
She snuck looks at him all through the quiz, studying her favorite details of his appearance. His customary hat rested on his head, allowable only because it didn’t have a brim or any slogans or logos on it; he was tiptoeing just inside the lines of the school dress code. His nails were clean but slightly long. He almost needed a haircut; his bangs were beginning to fall into his eyes. He wore a royal blue Southpole shirt with a huge white ‘S’ screened on the front, and his sagging jeans were fading from black to charcoal gray, clearly his favorites.
He was left-handed. He had a small flat mole on the side of his neck. His nostrils flared when he was deep in thought.
Or annoyed at being stared at. Crap… yup. He was annoyed, if the way he jerked around and mouthed “What’s your deal, Bee?” was any indication. Ethel flushed and ducked her head, suddenly very, very interested in her quiz, even though she was already finished. “Time’s up!” Miss Grundy called out mercifully. “Pass them up to the front desk! Then I want you to open your books to page three-twenty-two. “Who read about the Trotsky Rebellion last night?” Several voices groaned back in reply. Dilton was already diligently raising his hand. Ethel sighed. It was going to be a long half-hour until she could talk to Juggie again.
Not that it mattered. He was out the door like a shot at the bell.
*
Archie had stepped in it again. Betty’s blue eyes pinned him accusingly while his mind raced for possible answers to the inevitable grilling. Just stick a fork in him in a minute; he was just about finished.
“I tried to call you last night.”
“Um… did you text me?” he asked hopefully.
“Three times,” she admitted, and her hand automatically reached up to twirl her blonde ponytail, a disarming gesture, but her voice was slightly wheedling. Archie sighed. He almost hated playing this game.
“I didn’t get them.”
“Sure you just didn’t read them?” she suggested.
“Aw… Bets, c’mon.”
“Guess you were just busy. You told me you wouldn’t be.” Her demure smile didn’t reach her blue eyes, and Archie felt like a heel.
But a vision of Veronica in her skimpy black halter top flashed in his mind, and he remembered how sweet she smelled in the passenger seat of his car as he leaned in to kiss her goodnight. Her smile was flirtatious and smug, just for him…
He felt himself drifting into his fantasy, and Betty’s low clearing of her throat brought him back down to earth. “What?”
“You were busy,” she repeated.
“Yeah, uh… I guess I was. Uh, I had a quiz in French…”
“You’re not taking French this quarter.”
“Spanish.”
“You were at the movies with Ronnie.”
“Yeah, but… wait. What?”
“She texted me last period. I guess I just wanted to hear you say it out loud.”
“Bets… c’mon.” Panic filled his chest.
“Uh-uh. It’s not you, it’s me.” Her voice was deadpan, but her smile held a certain helplessness, and it wobbled. “How could you just lie?”
“I didn’t want to!”
“But you did! God, I’m so stupid.” Betty shook her head and laughed, a mirthless, gritty sound. Archie felt something inside him shrivel and an ugly chill ran down his back.
He was a jerk. He’d just treated Betty Cooper, the sweetest girl he knew since kindergarten, like crap.
“Don’t say that, Betty! You’re not-“
“I must be. I must be, because there’s no way I’d put up with this from you if I had the sense of a gnat.” Archie frowned briefly. Did gnats have strong senses? No, no, focus, man! “I know you like her, but then you tell me you like me. And I wait for you to call, Archie. I get excited about hearing from you, because I love spending time with you. But then you just make me wait. You make me wonder where you are when I do get a hold of you at all.” She began walking away from him, and out of some morbid fascination, Archie refused to believe he was being dismissed. He followed her, kicking his locker door shut behind him.
“Ronnie called me first, she asked me to meet her at the movies because she was already there.”
“Of course she was. Much easier than calling me while I was waiting for you at Pop’s.”
Shit… “I thought you were at home.”
“I thought you were at home.” Archie edged and weaved his way around the tide of students that swarmed down the hall in an effort to keep up with her. A voice inside him warned him, Let her go. She’s ticked off. Let her cool down. And, he admitted, Ronnie wouldn’t be too thrilled if he saw him chasing after her BFF, would she?
Was he chasing her?
Yes. He was. Betty Cooper was walking away from him, something that never happened, and he was compelled to follow her, to watch her shapely little hips rolling smoothly past him in dark wash jeans that fit like a glove. In her own way, Betty was as pretty as Veronica but owned none of her glamour. If Veronica was the quintessential Girly Girl, then Betty was the Tomboy, her perfect opposite, wholesome and approachable.
But he noticed more often than not, it was fun to chase Betty when she was walking away. It just… made her more desirable. He had to work for it. He’d never tell her that, never in a million years. Archie Andrews would never, ever divulge that part of Veronica’s allure was that she was too good for him. Unattainable. Bad for him, just like hard candy.
If Betty knew that… well, she wouldn’t be Betty. Good ol’ Betty, the sweetheart who baked him cupcakes with blue sprinkles and lent him her texts when he forgot to bring his to school. Reliable Betty, best chemistry lab partner in the world and the fastest typist in computer lab when he ran late with turning in a finished report, double-spaced with one-inch margins. Betty, who never left him hanging and who showered him with attention.
Well… maybe too much attention.
Ethel spied them and waved to Betty, but she was surprised to watch one of her best friends hurry by and ignore her. Her posture was stiff and her expression was set in hard lines. “Uh-oh,” Ethel muttered. She knew that look.
Sure enough, there was the bad taste in Betty’s mouth, chasing her down and looking like he deserved a good, swift smack with a rolled-up newspaper. Ethel shook her head. “What’s wrong with you, Arch? Sheesh…” She felt a mixture of pity and frustration on Betty’s behalf.
“I didn’t lie to you, Bets. I just forgot that we made plans for the same time.”
“So it would have been fine if you’d made plans with me earlier in the day, maybe. That’s what you’re telling me? Meet me at Pop’s for a soda, then take Ron to dinner?”
“The movies,” Archie corrected her, then bit his tongue. He kept stepping in it. Betty rolled her eyes.
“Right. My bad. I’m going to algebra, now.”
“Betty… Betty. Look, call me. Text me.”
“Read my other ones first,” she tossed back.
“Geez,” he muttered as she sailed into her classroom. His shoulders sank, and Ethel almost pitied him.
Almost. Not quite. The fact that Betty allowed him to treat her like pond scum didn’t actually excuse him from doing it. It baffled Ethel.
Especially since, for the most part, Archie could be a decent guy. He wasn’t mean spirited or even snobby. He was just fickle. Ethel couldn’t fathom what made a boy so unable to make up his mind.
Archie Andrews attracted girls easily. Ethel supposed it was his approachable good looks, like his wavy red hair and boyish profile, or his blue eyes that always seemed to change with his moods or the weather. Archie was a “happy medium,” just the right height, just the right weight, and athletically built without being huge, like Moose. Ethel, at five-nine, was easily tall enough to stare him in the eye. The fact that Jughead was taller than she was appealed to her. It sucked always being the tallest girl. Sucked.
Ethel sometimes wished she could be everyone’s “cup of tea” like that. Not to actually look like Archie, but just to appeal to so many members of the opposite sex. Even just catching the eye of one in particular, who had a penchant for unusual headgear, might be nice… If I were that popular, I’d never just string someone along like that. If I had a boyfriend, he’d be the only one for me. I wouldn’t play games.
*
Jughead heard rapid footsteps swooping up from behind him, and he instinctively quickened his own pace on his way to his car. “Nooooo,” he muttered as he dug into his pocket for his keys.
“Juggie!”
“Gads,” he spat, and he steeled himself. Ethel looked out of breath, like she’d run after him. She adjusted her books, propping them against her bony hip. She looked him over briefly.
“You walk fast,” she claimed.
“Not fast enough.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Just headed home. Lot of homework.” His single binder under his arm disputed that. Ethel cleared her throat.
“Are you just headed home? Or to the library?”
“Probably Pop’s first.”
“That sounds good!”
“Not for too long,” he amended.
“I could meet you th-“
“Nah. Don’t wait on me.”
“Well, I was heading over there, anyway.” She scuffed her shoe against the black top.
“Look, Bee…” Jughead weighed his annoyance against the hopeful look on her face, hating how conflicted he felt. Her gray eyes were so eager, and she looked so expectant. “I didn’t really plan on going there with anybody.”
“Well, you’re by yourself, and I’m by myself,” she explained, shrugging. “We could both go, if I’m not interrupting your plans.”
But you are! Shrieked the voices in his mind. Jughead’s plans involved conjugating his reflexive verbs in Spanish while inhaling a double bacon, double cheese at Pop’s to tide him over until dinner. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to Ethel prattle on about… well, whatever it was that she wanted to talk about.
She was nice. But she was cloying. Silly. Too eager.
It just didn’t work for him. She just didn’t do it for him.
“Ethel…”
“JUG!” Jughead looked up in relief at the sight of his best friend cutting across the crowded lot, waving him down. There it was, a perfect excuse.
“Arch is gonna wanna hang out. I’m already booked for today, Bee. Maybe some other time.”
“What?”
“Hey, man!” Jughead hurried away from his car and chided him, “Don’t leave me hanging!” They low-fived, and Archie slugged him briefly. “When are you coming over to play Final Fantasy?”
“The new one?”
“Yeah, the new one!” Ethel felt discouraged at the turn of the discussion. She wasn’t a gamer, and overhearing Dilton and Moose’s discussions about missions, sieges and invasions made her eyes glaze over during study hall.
“Sweet. I’m gonna wait til I can get a copy of it used.”
“Why? They’ll have the next version of it out by then.”
“No kidding. I just don’t have that kind of cash.” Archie belatedly noticed that Ethel was watching them, offering a polite smile. “Hey, Ethel.”
“Hi. What’s up.”
“Nothing much. Nothing new.”
“Same old, same ol’,” Ethel agreed easily enough, even though she wanted to demand, How’s breaking my best friend’s heart working out for you?
“That a new necklace?” Ethel reached up to finger it, forgetting that she even had it on.
“Oh. Yeah. It is.”
“It’s fun.” He didn’t say “cute.” He said “fun.” But Ethel was almost flattered that he even noticed.
“Gotta love Spongebob,” she allowed. She toyed with the small, yellow pendant idly. “Are you going to Pop’s?” Ethel inquired.
“I wasn’t,” Archie began, but Jughead cut in quickly.
“I’ll meet you over there, dude. Then we can go back to my place.”
“How’s Sephiroth in this one?”
“Bad-ass,” Jughead confirmed smugly.
And on that note… Ethel sighed. “Guess I’ll see you guys later,” she announced. She began to walk away, reluctantly and as casually as she could manage.
“Yup. Later,” Archie replied, waving and grinning.
“Later. Like tomorrow, later,” Jughead qualified. Ethel waved and turned away, making her way to her own car. Archie waited until she was out of sight before he slugged Jug. “What was that for?”
“Dude. Be nice.”
“Why? It’ll only encourage her. I don’t want to encourage Big Ethel, man. You don’t get it.”
“She likes you, Jug. Don’t be like that.”
“So? And don’t be like what? I’m not trying to get her to like me, but she’s always right there, in my face, every time I turn around. It’s like waiting for the knife behind the shower curtain in Psycho. Ree, ree, ree!” he squawked, imitating the sound of those famous fiddles and making stabbing motions in the air. Archie snorted.
“She’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad? Dude… all day, it’s ‘Juggie! Wanna copy my notes? Want some gum? Want me to rub your feet and peel you a grape? Want me to have your children?’”
“That’s… not a visual image I wanted in my head.” Archie wrinkled his nose.
“Ethel and me getting it on?”
“No. Kids who look like you. But thanks for the other image, too. It’s going to haunt me.” Jughead elbowed him sharply. “Hey, hey, hey!”
“Asshat.”
“Ethel’s cool.”
“You date her.”
“I’ve got my own problems, man.” Jughead made a face and shook his head.
“Arch, I told you. I said don’t play games with those two, and you went right out and played. Which one was it this time?”
“Ronnie texted Betty after I took her home from the movies.”
“Ouch. Dude.”
“Betty’s not talking to me.”
“That’ll last for two hours. Maybe three.” Jughead snorted. “When are you gonna stop dangling her?”
“I’m not dangling her!” Archie insisted.
“Did you tell her you were going to call her after school?” Jughead asked blandly.
“Yeah. So?”
“Have you already texted Veronica since your class got out?”
“Yeah. And?”
“Have you already made plans with Veronica to go study at her house or meet her at Pop’s?” Jughead continued, waiting for it to dawn on him. Archie looked oblivious.
“Why?”
“Have you?”
“I was going to head to Ron’s, since Betty’s not talking to me, anyway-“
“Eeeeennhhh! Wrong answer,” Jughead crowed, punctuating his buzzer noise by holding up his finger and thumb in an ‘L’ over his forehead. “That’s your problem, right there. You date one. You make the other one mad. The first one gets mad when you call the other one to make up. The second one doesn’t want to be outdone, and she calls you when the first one isn’t returning your calls. And it just goes round, and round, and round.” Jughead circled his finger through the air between them.
“You want to talk to me about dangling? Let Ethel off the hook!”
“She won’t get the message.”
“Then be blunt. Tell her to get lost.” Archie was vexed and indignant about being called out on his own game, and Jughead’s situation was a welcome distraction from his own troubles. Why pick the log out of his own eye, when Jughead needed help with his splinter?
“Bye, Jug! Bye, Archie!” They heard Ethel calling from her open window of her tiny, battered Volkswagen Beetle, stopping at the corner of the parking lot’s entrance. The car behind her honked impatiently, and she sheepishly turned pulled onto the road.
“What would we do without Ethel?” Archie deadpanned. He elbowed Jug.
“Get bent.”
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Go-To Girl