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Pigtails	By : CeeCee Category: Comics > Archie & Co. Views: 11153 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the Archies fandom. This is a work of fanfiction for entertainment only, and I'm not making money from it.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
A Day Late, A Million Dollars Short…
Summary: Betty comes clean and ties up one last, loose end.
Author’s Note: This went about how I figured it would. I love this pairing, I had fun with this story overall, even though I hit my usual block toward the end. Thanks for reading it for those of you who stuck with it up until now. I hope I see you again as I continue Girl Next Door and Go-To-Girl. I have other plot bunnies that may result in more Archies fics as my time and creativity allow.
Betty felt a funny prickle of anticipation as she made her way to her locker before first bell. Over the course of a weekend, everything changed. She was almost afraid to think the words to herself, because she wasn’t sure she believed them.
I have a new boyfriend… or did she?
It was confusing. It was thrilling. Betty puzzled over it ever since Friday night. Reggie didn’t help matters any by not calling her. By Saturday night, Betty was tired of waiting for her little smartphone to ring. Sunday found her looking for distractions; she accepted Ethel’s invitation to come over and make rice krispie treats and watch Cabin in the Woods. She still replayed the night before in her head, going over their conversation in the car and at Pop’s.
The excitement she felt at her new connection with Reggie, coupled with the relief that their feelings were out in the open – hers, at least – stood at odds with her frustration at being dumped. Betty hurried past Jason and his friends in the parking lot, hoping her wouldn’t notice her, but Cedric noticed her anyway and muttered “Keep walking, townie trash.” Her steps quickened and she didn’t look back as they continued to jeer.
“God, she’s a priss.”
“Have to pry her knees apart with a crowbar. Can’t hang, blondie?”
“Bet you would’ve gave it up if Jay waved more money under your nose, townie girl!”
“Chill,” Jason growled. “Think I want the whole world knowing I struck out with her?”
“Who cares?” Cedric scoffed. “There’s other girls. There’s hotter, better girls who won’t give you the runaround, dude. She’s not worth it. She was never worth it.” Jason shoved him.
“Leave it alone.” Part of him wanted to join in on the smack talk, and Betty had definitely run him around in circles – hadn’t she? – but Jason still felt an odd pang as she walked by. As much as he wanted to believe his friends and bask in their loyalty to him, the possibility nagged at him that maybe, just maybe, it was the other way around.
What if Betty was too good for him. He ran the night’s events through his mind. His last call with her haunted him.
I mean it, Bets. Show me you want me.
Jay… Her voice was long-suffering and frustrated. I like being with you, okay? I’m not here to play games with you. I hate it when anyone plays games with me, so why would I turn around and dish it out?
Beats me. So you won’t play games with me.
Never.
He’d believed her. She said it with conviction. So, what went wrong? Why did she suddenly close up on him? Just because his friends heckled her a little? Betty was a good sport and gave back what she got whenever she was with him; he liked that about her.
Loved that about her…
Jason shook it off. No. He was better off. Cedric was right. Betty Cooper was trash, and he should have known better.
*
Betty fumbled with her locker, wondering why her fingers seemed to forget the combination. What Jason’s friends said rattled her. She didn’t expect him to be cool about it, she supposed, but he’d made the decision to throw her out. The only two things Betty blamed herself for were going against her initial instinct not to go to his party, and not being up front with him and asking him more about his expectations. How far did he think she was planning to go with him? Was he expecting her to sleep over with Cheryl and her friends, or with him? Jason was attractive; she’d felt chemistry and excitement, at least at first, but somehow, the spark gradually died. Jason kept pushing her, too, and her enthusiasm at wanting to please him waned, gradually being replaced with irritation.
Betty thought back to the beginning of their relationship. He’d been silly. Sarcastic, a trait she usually enjoyed. Active and into sports. Mischievous. Sure of himself.
If Betty had to put her finger on it, Jason Blossom reminded her a lot of Reggie. That thought gave her pause. “That’s why,” she murmured to herself as she slid her math book into her backpack.
“That’s why, what?” Jughead wanted to know as he slipped a lanky arm around her shoulders. She patted his hand fondly and squeezed it.
“Hey. Just talking to myself.”
“Good. Always consult an expert.”
“Ha, ha.” She gently ducked out from beneath his arm and backed up, closing her locker.
“You look miffed about something.”
“Miffed? Eh.”
“No?”
“Not much. Jug, why are guys so complicated?”
“I’m not,” he shrugged, gesturing to himself with a hand on his chest. “Don’t expect me to speak for everybody else, it ain’t my fault.”
“I know it isn’t. You’re the exception to the rule.” Jughead usually was. “This weekend was a mess.”
“Why?”
“Jason dumped me Friday night.”
“And that’s bad, why?” They began walking toward Betty’s class. “Good for you. Good riddance to that guy. He did you a favor, Bets.”
“I went against that little voice in my head, which is always a mistake.”
“Your gut instinct?”
“No. Ronnie telling me he was a jerk and that I should just leave him alone.”
“Ah. Don’t know how you managed to ignore that voice,” Jughead quipped. “But yeah, ordinarily I wouldn’t give her credit. She was right this time, kiddo. Sorry.”
“So’m I,” Betty admitted. “I thought I liked him. It just didn’t work out.”
“For someone who got dumped, you don’t seem heartbroken.”
“Well, something good kinda came out of it.”
“You not wasting your time on that guy anymore is good enough. What happened?”
“Reggie came to get me when Jay threw me out of his party.”
“Yeahbuhwhuh? What? Threw you out?” Jughead stopped their progress and tugged her sleeve. “What do you mean, he threw you out?” His dark brows drew together, and she saw rare vestiges of anger tighten the corners of his mouth.
“Yup. I wouldn’t play ball when he wanted me to stay there and drink with his creepy friends. He wanted me to stay over at his house so he could get wasted and not bother to drive me home.”
“Meaning you’d have to stay the night at a guy’s house. So your parents would get pissed. Nice.” Betty nodded and shrugged, smiling dryly.
“Right in one.”
“I hate that guy. I do. What a piece of shit.” They continued to her class. “Wait. How did Reggie come and get you? Weren’t you at Jason’s house?”
“Veronica called him and gave him directions after I called her.”
“Where was Ron that she couldn’t give you a ride?”
“Out with her parents. She couldn’t get away. I’m just glad she called him.”
“I bet he’s glad you called him,” Jughead agreed. “Bet he drove like a demon to get there, too.” Betty huffed. “You know he likes you, right?”
“Well, yeah. I do, now.”
“You didn’t before?” Jughead was dumbfounded. “Really? How did you not know?”
“Well… it just took me a while to believe it.”
“Why? Betty… as much as I hate to even say this out loud, because Mantle isn’t the guy I credit with much, he has good taste. He’s liked you for, like, forever.”
“He has not!” Betty was aghast yet thrilled. Why was she clueless about it for so long?
“Betty, Reggie’s been carrying a torch for you. That little, not-so-subtle crush you’ve had on Archie for as long as I can remember got in the way, remember?”
“Geez…” Reggie had said as much during their heart-to-heart. Everyone else seemed to get it but her.
“Hey, don’t worry about it, Bets. I can get behind you with Reggie, even though he’s full of himself, because at least you know him. You really didn’t know Jay.”
“You can’t stand Reggie.”
“I like to bust his chops and give him a hard time. He makes it too easy most of the time, still. That doesn’t mean I can’t stand him.” Then Jughead amended, “That doesn’t stop him from being a jackass, mind you.”
“Duly noted.”
“Thank you.”
“He kissed me.”
“Whoa.”
“More than once.” Jughead covered his ears.
“Ew. No. Yuck. Save this part of the story for Veronica.”
“I’m just saying!”
“I know, but we’re good here. I’m happy for you, I guess. So you’re going out now?”
“If he actually calls me,” she pointed out.
“He hasn’t called yet, huh? Hmmmm.” Jughead arched one brow and shrugged. “You’re on your own, kiddo.”
“Don’t say that!”
“I’m just sayin’…”
“Just don’t. Please.”
“You could call him.”
“And then what? I look like I’m chasing him. He’s supposed to call.” That much, Betty hard learned from Veronica. Hello?
“Who’s supposed to call?” a familiar baritone inquired behind her.
“What?” Betty spun around. Reggie gave her a pointed look, and she flushed to the roots of her hair.
“I’m out,” Jughead told her cheerfully. “Later, Reg.”
“What was that all about?”
“It… was about you,” she blurted, but Betty clapped her hand over her mouth. Reggie’s eyebrows lifted and he pointed to his chest.
“Me? I was supposed to call?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Oh. Okay.” Betty suddenly wanted to sink into the floor. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Well, this. Us. Friday night.” Betty leaned back against a nearby locker and clutched her binder against her chest, a barrier between them. “I guess, I was hoping you’d call, that’s all.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay, I guess.”
“I had to work. I was at my dad’s office. He needed me to run some errands for him. I had to pick up some camera-ready art for a full-page ad, and I edited some photos. I’ve got an internship with the paper this summer.”
“Wow. That’s great.” Betty felt slightly guilty. “Sorry. Guess you were busy.”
“What are you doing after school?”
“Me? I was going to go to the library and call Ronnie.”
“Tell her you’re busy,” he urged. His lazy smile tempted her. Reggie looked yummy in a snug black dri-fit tee, and his cologne tickled her senses. She felt her resolve not to make things too easy for him slipping.
“What am I going to be busy doing?”
“Taking music lessons.”
“Music lessons,” she asked him incredulously. A little divot formed between her brows. He reached around her neck and tugged her ponytail. “Ow! Brat!”
“Awwww,” he pouted at her. Betty gave him a little shove. Reggie grinned as he reached for her binder, prying it from her grasp and tossing it aside.
“HEY! Don’t… mmmmmphhhh.” He closed in on her mouth, tasting the last remnant of her toothpaste. Her lips were petal-soft and very cooperative. Betty’s argument faded to a whimper of need. He let her up for air too soon. Much, much too soon. Her blue eyes were dazed as they stared up at him. His dark ones burned into hers, and he looked very satisfied.
“I missed you,” he admitted. “Figured I’d see you today.”
“Okay.”
“Meet me in the music room today.”
“Okay.”
“You need another kiss.”
“Okay,” she nodded, totally on board. His fingertip stroked her chin and gently lifted it, and her fingers curled into the neck of his tee while she kissed him back hungrily, possessively. He made a sound of satisfaction in his throat. Betty was his perfect fit.
“Bets, I won’t play games with you. You know that.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. That’s all you’re going to say?”
“I’ll see you after school.” She gave him a little peck.
“Music room.” He punctuated it with a tiny kiss. “Call Ron and tell her you’re busy today.”
“I’ll see her at lunch.” Kiss.
“Okay.” Kiss.
“I have to get to class.” Kiss.
“Okay.” Kiss.
“Get to class,” Miss Grundy warned them flatly as she walked by.
“Bye.” Kiss.
“Bye.” Betty felt warm fuzzies as she drifted off to class.
Jason separated from his friends as he entered the hallway from the field house. He caught the end of their exchange and sucked in a breath. Betty’s dreamy smile spoke volumes. They separated, fingers letting go at the last minute as he walked away. There was a faint swagger in his step and Reggie was actually whistling in triumph.
Douche!
That bitch! She lied! Jason saw red. The little hussy lied about not having the hots for Mantle. Did she think he was stupid? She was into Mantle. Anger, disgust and jealousy consumed Jason.
“Get to class.” His sister’s voice interrupted his rage but did nothing to cool it. “What’s with you?” Cheryl elbowed him. Jason nodded toward Betty’s departing back, watching her ponytail disappear around the corner of the doorway.
“I saw her with him.”
“Who?”
“Geez, Cher, who do you think?”
“What… you mean, Reggie?” Cheryl tsked and wrinkled her nose.
“You knew?”
“Whatever. What was there to know? And who cares? She’s trash. He’s an ass. Now you don’t have to waste your time on that girl. You could do so much better, Jay.”
“Cheryl. Shut. Up.” Cheryl rolled her green eyes and gave a talk-to-the-hand gesture.
“Fine. Fine. I’m wrong.” She began to walk away, but he called her back.
“How long did you know?”
“I dunno. Maybe forever? I don’t know what you ever saw in that goodie-goodie.”
“None of your business.”
“Whatever,” Cheryl told him coldly. “Don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”
“Fuck off,” Jason hissed.
“Up yours.” There was no love lost between them, but Cheryl suppressed a hint of sympathy for him. It sucked to get dumped, even if, technically, Jason had been the one to show the blonde the door.
*
Good news traveled fast, Betty realized sourly. The school was a-buzz about what happened, complete with speculations and twisted stories. Much of the exaggeration surfaced courtesy of Cheryl and Cedric.
“That girl’s a tramp,” she murmured randomly to her neighbor in the lunch line as she reached for a yogurt cup. “She’ll only date you for your money. Watch out.”
“She’s a total cock tease.” Cedric nodded smugly, elbowing one of his teammates where he stood perusing the reference shelves in the library. “Don’t waste your time.”
By sixth period lunch, Betty was tired of the chafing irritation of people’s eyes staring at her as she walked past. Betty paused at her locker, glaring at two freshman girls who were whispering between them and smirking at her.
“What? Don’t you have anywhere to be?”
“Move along, now,” Nancy chimed in as she approached, shooing the underclassmen upstarts along. “Ain’t nothing to see here, little girls. Put your eyes back in your heads.” Ethel looked worried.
“Bets,” she murmured, leaning in close, “what’s going on? Why’s everyone talking about you so much all of the sudden?”
“Girl, you better spill, so your real homegirls have the full story, because your name is in too many people’s mouths.”
“I have a clue how it got there,” Betty sighed. “Jay and Cheryl. I’m not seeing him anymore. All of the sudden, I’m a slut. No. Wait. I’m a tease. And a gold digger. And a liar. And a whore. Let’s not forget that.” Betty ticked off each slam on her fingers. She tried to smile, but her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Why can’t people just mind their own business?”
“Aw. C’mere,” Ethel encouraged. Her long, skinny arms enveloped her, and Betty heard Nancy making soothing noises as she rubbed her back.
“Girl, you don’t have to put up with this shit. Ninety-nine problems, Betty, and a Blossom ain’t one.”
“They’re bullies,” Ethel pointed out. “Nancy’s right. Go to the office. Make them stop.”
“No. It’s embarrassing. I’ll sound like a crybaby.”
“Cheryl and Jay are making you sound like a ho,” Nancy argued. “That won’t work, Elizabeth. Try again.”
“What’s wrong?” Veronica’s voice weakened Betty’s resolve. A tear streaked unchecked down her cheek, to her frustration.
“You were right,” Betty admitted. “He was an asshole. He let his friends tear me apart, while he just sat there. I was so humiliated.” Betty’s eyes were red and watery. Veronica gently tugged Betty from Ethel’s embrace and wiped away the dampness with the cuff of her sleeve.
“I was worried. I didn’t hear from you on Saturday. I thought you were mad at me. Betty, I’m so sorry.” She squeezed her best friend’s hand, and Betty covered her face against the onslaught of more tears. “It’s okay,” Veronica murmured as she hugged her tightly. “Everything’ll be okay. Are you all right? What happened?”
“I was an idiot for trusting him. I thought he liked me.”
“Betty,” Veronica pulled back for a moment and squeezed her hand more tightly. “Did Jason try to make you-“
“No. It wasn’t like that, but he did strand me away from home. You knew that, remember?” Veronica seethed.
“Right. He’s dead. And his sister’s ass has a date with my foot. I’ve heard some of the things that she’s said.”
“It’ll blow over,” Ethel told her hopefully.
“Hell, naw,” Nancy argued. “No, it won’t. Betty cares what people think of her, Ethel, you know that. She doesn’t deserve to have Heckle and Jeckle having a field day with her reputation.” Ethel nodded solemnly. She was too familiar with how cruel kids could be, and how the popular ones always seemed to get away with it.
“Who’s having a field day with Betty’s rep?” Jughead loomed behind Veronica, munching casually on a granola bar. “Whoa. Water works. What happened?”
“The Blossoms.” The exchange between Nancy and Jughead could be told with expressions alone, quirked lips and arched brows adequately conveying Oh, no they didn’t! Boy, yes they did!
“They’re a waste of flesh.”
“Right in one.”
“Okay. Enough’s enough. Sometimes, you can’t wait for karma.” Jughead’s expression was indolent, but his friends saw a gleam in his dark eyes and heard the wheels turning.
Veronica had been on the business end of that look before. “Will I have to post bail?” she asked dryly.
*
Betty made it through the rest of the day with difficulty, tempted to escape to the nurse’s office; cramps were a handy excuse. But that wouldn’t fly tomorrow, or the next day. Her stomach knotted with gloom. She chewed her thumbnail down to a stub and decided to take her lunch out in the courtyard, hating how cowardly it felt. Only the seniors could leave campus on their free period, leaving her shit out of luck. She scrolled through her text messages, munching on her tuna sandwich and typing with her thumb.
Ethel: It’ll be ok. You ok?
Betty: Nah. This sucks. He’s such a weasel.
Ethel: Yeah. Well, I’m not gonna say I told you so…
Betty: :p
Ethel: I DID tell you so, tho…
Betty: Yeah, yeah.
Ronnie: Where are you?
Betty: Outside. Getting some air.
Ronnie: Come inside.
Betty: Rather not.
Ronnie: Just hang out with Nancy and me! C’mon!
Betty: I’m not in the mood for company right now.
Jug: Hey.
Betty: Hey.
Jug: Better?
Betty: Not much.
Jug: Sorry.
Betty: S’okay.
Jug: Got five bucks I can borrow?
Betty: No.
Jug: Guy’s gotta try…
Betty was just opening her water bottle when her phone tweeted at her without any of the sound alerts or tones she assigned to her other friends.
Archie: Hi. You okay?
Betty: Oh. Hi. I guess.
Archie: Heard you and Jay are over?
Betty: Was that all you heard?
Archie: Why?
Betty: Just… never mind.
Archie: Where are you?
Betty: Out front. Just having lunch.
Archie: Why don’t you hang with us?
Betty: It’s almost over. Don’t worry about it.
She suppressed a pang. Despite the fact that Betty had already moved on from her pursuit of Archie, the old feelings still sometimes surfaced around him. She still caught herself preening when he spoke to her, and it hurt to watch him and Veronica canoodling. Having a boyfriend of her own helped, but Betty guessed it was her own fault for poisoning what she had with her Archie Andrews obsession. She’d worn a groove in the floor from taking every convenient opportunity to walk past his locker every day. Old habits died hard.
Betty tucked her phone into her purse, deciding to take a break from all the questions. She’d already checked her Facebook; Jay unfriended her immediately, to her relief. She didn’t want to imagine what his status sounded like, if seeing him in person was already a disaster. She exhaled a shaky sigh, laid back on the grass and closed her eyes. Betty was at a loss.
While Betty counted down the rest of the school days left til summer, she heard the grass rustle beside her. She sighed to discourage whoever showed up. “I just wanted some air,” she warned them without opening her eyes.
“What’s wrong with the air in the cafeteria? Still counts as oxygen, if you ignore the smell. It’s American chop suey today. Can’t miss out on that.” Archie’s familiar, unexpected baritone opened her eyes. He stretched out his lanky legs alongside hers and laid down his backpack. “What’s up? Talk to me.”
“Eeerrrgggh…”
“Right. That said a lot.”
“Can the world just end, already?”
“Uh… no?”
“Okay. Just shoot me, then.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yes. It’s that bad.”
“Sorry, Bets. Can’t shoot you, I like you too much.”
“You can shoot me and still like me,” Betty reasoned as she leaned up and propped herself on her elbows, glancing up at him. The glare of the sun set his red hair on fire, wavy tendrils stirred by a low breeze. His blue eyes were filled with sympathy, though, ruining the image.
“No. I couldn’t.”
“Damn it!” she snapped dryly, slapping the ground. Betty blew a random lock of her bangs out of her eye. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Why’d you come out here? Come to witness me wallowing in shame?”
“Yeah. Forgot my phone, though. I wanted to capture the moment.”
“Can’t say I’m sorry.”
“I can. I’m sorry Jay was a dick.”
“Okay. You get to stay.”
“Those were the magic words?”
“No. The magic words are usually ‘Open the door, I have chocolate.’ But those will work this time.”
“Ron said he deserted you at a party?”
“No. He talked me into coming to a party at his house, that he took me to, and then kicked me out.” An uncharacteristic scowl darkened Archie’s face.
“Where does he get off kicking you out of his house? Was he trying to get with you?”
“Maybe. But he was drinking. I told him I wasn’t getting back in a car with him to take me home, and he said I could take myself. On foot.”
“Motherfucker,” he hissed, turning his face from hers for a moment. “That’s… wow.” Archie jerked around to stare at her this time. “Are you okay? How did you get home, Bets?” He reached for her wrist, circling it in his warm grip. Betty shivered, an old reflex that she couldn’t help.
“I called Ronnie.”
“Ronnie was with her parents that night.”
“She called Reggie. He came for me.” His coppery brows rose a notch. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“Reggie took you home?”
“We stopped to eat first. It was nice of him.” Archie released her, and she almost regretted the loss of his warmth. She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees.
“So. Uh. You and… Reg, huh?”
“Well… I guess you could call it me and Reg, now.”
“Yeah. I guess, I kinda figured. Even before Jay and you split.”
“What, are you kidding? Not before, at least, not like that. I don’t know.” Betty blushed furiously.
“It’s okay to say you like Reggie. It was kind of obvious.”
“Oh, that’s nice. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.” She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Having a guy she was in love with since middle school call her out about her new man was embarrassing, yet there was a precarious little thrill running through her stomach.
Archie was sitting beside her on the grass, telling her he knew another boy was interested in her. Acknowledging her. It was bittersweet, this warping of her fondest dream. Fate brought her to this moment, this bend in the road before she was ready to let her feet take her there:
Betty Cooper was about to tell Archie Andrews that she was off the market.
“You’re with him now, right?”
Betty paused a moment, staring down at the grass. Her hand reached up to rub her nape helplessly. Her cheeks were pink when she met his eyes.
“Yeah. I kind of am.” Betty reached for her brown bag and sandwich wrapper, balling them up as she collected herself. She scooped up her purse and looped the strap over her shoulder as she stood, signaling the end of their chat.
“Where are you going?”
“To throw this out. I need to stop by my locker again, too.”
“Slow down.” Archie matched her stride, and Betty shivered again when she felt his hand graze her lower back. “Bets, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“I guess. What’s on your mind?”
“How did you feel about Jay?”
“How did I feel about him? I dunno… how you’re supposed to feel about a guy that you’re dating, I guess. I liked him. He was fun. He was pretty nice, before. It seemed like he liked me. I thought we had a good thing, more or less.”
“Well, was it more, or was it less?” Archie prodded. Betty frowned.
“Why?”
“Well… why Jason? What was it about him that made you say yes when he asked you out?”
“I was single. He was single. He was cute. And he asked me out.” Betty ticked off the points on her fingers, feeling like she was having to explain herself a lot that day. “That’s usually how it works, Arch.”
“If he hadn’t come along when he did, do you think you would have given him a chance?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? If he hadn’t come along when he did? What does that have to do with anything?” Archie’s eyes flitted away for a moment, briefly scanning the courtyard to make sure they were truly alone. He stared at her meaningfully and rubbed his nape. He leaned against the metal rail along the small deck of stone steps leading toward the side entrance.
“If…let’s say you had to make a choice between Jay and someone else that was interested in you when you met him.”
“No one else was interested in me when I met him.” Betty shrugged at his line of thinking, but her stomach fluttered. Archie suddenly looked sheepish.
“Yeah. About that… um. Maybe you’d be surprised to know that’s not true. Or maybe you wouldn’t.” Betty’s mouth opened slightly, and she gave him a quizzical look. She averted her face then, needing a moment to process it all, difficult when he was staring at her like that, with that little expression that she usually loved. She looked up at him again hesitantly, and yes, he was doing it again, that look that always killed her, feeding her daydreams and triggering regret that it was Veronica in the passenger seat of his car, Veronica’s cell number as his top contact on his phone list.
“Tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”
“I can’t.”
“Then don’t.” Archie gave her a helpless gesture, lifting his hands.
“C’mon, Betty!”
“I can’t hear this right now.”
“I think now’s an okay time. You’re not with Jason anymore.”
“You’re with my best friend. And that’s no fault of mine.” Betty was flushing like a raspberry. “Archie, I’m sorry. I wish you hadn’t told me this. We’ll pretend you didn’t, and we’ll stay with how things are.”
“With how things are?” he asked dryly. “With you liking me and not saying anything about it? With me watching you date someone else and pretending everything’s fine?” Betty remembered she wanted to chuck her lunch bag; she tossed it into the nearby can whose sign read “Keep RHS Clean!” and stepped back from him, folding her arms.
“Archie. I don’t know what to say. You want me to tell you that I like you? And then what? What does that mean? You’re with Veronica.” He ducked his head and sighed.
“Yeah. I am.”
“You love her. She’s in love with you. Head over heels in love with you. That’s to say nothing of the fact that she’s my best friend, and this conversation you’re having with me won’t fly. Archie… I don’t know.” She faltered. “You asked me if I would have given Jay a chance if I knew you liked me. I don’t know what to tell you. Probably, but just because I liked Jay, period. But if you had stepped up and told me back then, maybe things would be different now.” Hope sprang into his eyes, and he straightened up.
“Maybe they can be.”
Betty reeled. He wasn’t telling her this. This wasn’t unfolding with her feet rooted to the ground, heart hammering so hard that she felt dizzy. She wanted to be ecstatic, yet enraged. She licked dry lips and shook her head. He nodded and shrugged, contradicting her.
Archie was offering her, Betty Cooper, her fondest wish.
…three days too late.
“I have a date after school. He’s really awesome, and I’d suck as a girlfriend if I flaked on him.” Archie scuffed his foot in disappointment and looked away.
“That’s your answer.”
“That’s your answer,” she corrected him firmly. “See you around, Arch.” She reached for the door handle, but he opened it for her, lips thin with defeat. Just as they entered the main hall, the bell rang. Students swarmed into the corridor, and Betty averted her eyes when Cheryl emerged from her chemistry lab. Her green eyes raked over the blonde and she tsked in disdain.
“Fuck off,” Archie warned her, and his arm sheltered Betty automatically, surprising her that it reassured her. Cheryl stepped back and hissed under her breath.
“What the fuck?” she muttered. “That didn’t just happen.”
“What is it about her?” Lacey mused by her elbow. “Why’s every guy in this school hung up on her?”
“I haven’t got a clue.” Cheryl fumed over the loss of the hot quarterback as a potential playmate. Those were the breaks.
*
The final bell startled Betty from her miserable scribbling in the margins of her notebook; she’d already torn the discarded page border into tiny bits while she waited for Flutesnoot to finish his lecture. She was the first person to leave her completed worksheet on his desk as she darted out the door once they were dismissed. Betty shoved her way through the crowd, not following the flow of traffic that milled around her. She stowed her science text into her locker and tucked her notes into her backpack, and her eyes caught a small, folded piece of paper tucked into the door slat. She grumbled under her breath as she opened it, hoping it wasn’t hate mail.
No. Not at all. A faint smile bloomed on her lips.
Hope you didn’t forget about your music lesson. Meet me in the band room.
Miss you.
She melted into a puddle.
*
Her stomach was fluttering again as she hesitantly opened the band room door. Reggie sat near the podium, turning his guitar. The skylight above him bathed him in sunlight, catching the glints in his dark hair. The glow warmed his coffee brown eyes to the same shade of Coca-Cola in a glass as he glanced up at her, and he gave Betty a lopsided grin.
“You’re late, young lady. Where’s your office pass?”
“Sorry, professor,” she offered slyly. “Gonna give me detention?”
“You have to serve it here,” he shrugged as she descended the tiers and set her backpack on a chair. “Got my note?” She nodded and held it up.
“It was nice.”
“Yeah?” He craned his neck up at her from where he sat, and she draped her arm around his neck.
“Yeah.” She bent and met him halfway, sighing in contentment as their lips met. Betty felt the faint, inadvertent scrape of his guitar pick against her neck as he combed his fingers through her hair. They shared breath and heat, and the troubles of her day evaporated. “Missed you, too.”
“Good.” His eyes stared up at her impishly. “Not sure I want to give you that music lesson, after all. Let’s pack up and go to my car…” he suggested. She swatted him.
“No.”
“Damn it,” he griped, but he grinned and tugged her down for one more smart kiss. “Whatever. C’mere. I’m teaching you some chords.”
“Okay. Why?”
“Why not? You like enrichment. Music is ‘enrichment.’ It’ll look good on your transcript.”
“I didn’t sign up for any music classes next year.” Cheerleading pretty much covered her fine arts elective requirement, and she already did the play. “This won’t really count.”
“Humor me. Didn’t you ever want to learn an instrument as a kid?”
“Kind of.” Her sister Polly had brought her back a neat tambourine from one of her trips to Spain, but it was more for show than actual play. Reggie slid the guitar strap off from around his neck and moved the guitar itself off his lap. He patted his thigh.
“C’mere. Siddown.” Betty pulled a face. He cocked his head and tugged her hand, urging her to comply. She gave in and sank down onto his lap, fitting herself against the plane of his firm chest.
Alarms went off in his head. She felt so good in his lap that it was hard to focus on anything but how good her hair smelled or her dangerous proximity to his crotch, which was now suffused with heat and hard as a rock. But he simply grinned at her and took his guitar, propping it on her lap. Betty looped the strap around her shoulder properly, and Reggie began to arrange her hand around the neck, placing her fingers against the strings.
“These are frets. Put your middle finger on the fifth one.”
“Which string?”
“This one.” She found it. “Press down. Good.” He handed her the pick. “Hold it this way. No, like this…” He arranged it in her hand so the pointed tip faced the taut strings. “There you go.”
“I don’t know if I’m doing it right.”
“There’s no test after class, babe.” Betty giggled. He kissed the back of her shoulder, and she shivered deliciously. “Pay attention,” he scolded, and she laughed harder.
“Slave driver.”
“Don’t make me give you another detention.”
“Sorry.”
“Now, strum.” She picked the single string. “No. Strum. All of them. Bring your hand straight down while you’re pressing that string.”
“Like this?”
“Go for it.” She strummed, and he suppressed a wince at the uneven tone. “Try again.”
“Right.” Her second attempt was slightly better but twangy. Reggie shrugged.
“Not bad.” He covered her hand with his, guiding the pick, and together they strummed a cleaner chord. “Hear the difference?”
“Oh, yeah. Neat!”
“Again.” They practiced the E chord a few more times until she got the hang of it. “Let’s try an A. Same fret.”
“Then what makes it an A?”
“Different string,” he clarified.
“Ah. Got it.” He guided her hand again, and it felt so odd having someone else manipulating her movements, but she was enjoying his attention. Her progress wasn’t the smoothest, and Reggie perhaps wasn’t the most patient teacher; she felt him wince a few times as she hit sour notes, telling her she needed to press harder on the string. His trademark mouth didn’t spare her with several of her attempts, but she didn’t expect anything else after so long.
“Okay. That was a little sour. You just laid a Warhead on that chord.”
“That was more of a Lemon Head,” Betty argued.
“No, that was a Warhead,” he insisted. He reached for her hand and gave it a light slap. “I see more detention in your future, young lady.” She elbowed him and he grunted. “Be careful of my girl, she’s sensitive!” He lifted the guitar strap from Betty’s shoulder, and she ducked out from under it as Reggie set the guitar aside.
“Competition,” she muttered. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Betty rose from his lap and stretched, lifting her arms above her head, and Reggie appreciated the view. Her shirt hem lifted above the waistband of her jeans, exposing her lower back. Her ass was high, round and smooth, hugged lovingly by the distressed denim.
His hand darted out and captured her wrist, tugging her back to him, and Betty half-stumbled back onto his lap. She stared at him in amusement as his arms coiled around her waist and he adjusted her against him. “Believe me when I tell you that you’ll never have to compete for me.”
“Never, ever?” He shook his head solemnly. Her arms drifted around his neck, and he leaned into her touch as her cool fingers combed through the hair at his nape. His eyes dilated as he raised his face to hers, and she was drawn into their thrall.
“Ever.”
“Reggie…”
Heat and need rose up between them again. Betty had the advantage and he yielded to her kiss, groaning at how sweet she tasted. Petal-soft lips caressed his, needy and insistent, and he opened for her obediently, ready for any lesson she had to teach him, content to be her student this time. Her sigh deepened to a soft moan, its thrum calling out to him, and his fingers traced the pearls of her spine, following its graceful slope until he cradled her hips in his palms. His self-control deteriorated with each inadvertent movement she made against him, and Reggie shivered as unchecked fire consumed his loins…
Betty’s voice snapped him from his haze. “Reg…I’m… I’m sorry.”
“What?” She pulled back from his kiss abruptly, and he cocked a brow at the flush in her cheeks. Beet-red, if he had to be honest, and she was panting as hard as he was. So, what was the problem? his package demanded? They were having fun, weren’t they? “Why? Why be sorry? There’s nothing wrong.” He paused and Betty felt his gentle fingers capture her chin when she tried to avert her gaze, overwhelmed by his. “Is there?”
“No. Not wrong, just… fast. Things were moving… fast.” Reggie’s eyes shuttered, and she felt his deep, gusting sigh more than heard it, filling his broad, tempting chest.
She was right.
“You don’t have to be sorry.” Her blue eyes begged to differ, trying to swing away from his again, but he wouldn’t let her escape his words. “Bets, you’re right. We were going a little fast.”
“You know I like you, right?” she blurted awkwardly. “A lot. I don’t want to play games, Reggie, and I’m not a tease, but-“
“Bets. Stop. Hold on. I get it. Yeah, that first question: I know you like me. That might explain what you’re doing on my lap, something I’m totally on board with.” He adjusted her weight carefully, feeling himself mounting insistently beneath warm rump, challenging coherent thought on his part. “And I know you’re not a tease.”
“It goes along with that whole ‘I like you’ thing we were talking about,” Betty agreed solemnly. She leaned her forehead against his and kissed his cheek. “Are we okay?”
“I need a cold shower. So, no.”
“Oops…” She eased off his lap, and she tried not to glance at his crotch. Her cheeks were still red. Reggie heard his junk whine up at him, Whhyyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeee? Bring the warm, squishy goodness baaaaaaaaaackkk! Was it capable of whimpering? Betty was staring at him, toying with her ponytail, and his mouth went dry.
Reggie whimpered.
It almost sucked, being the bad boy who fell for the good girl.
*
“You know the drill?”
“Yup.” Chuck, Dilton, Moose, and Frankie huddled together in the cafeteria. “Midge and Ginger are on tap, too.”
“Everybody’s got their smart phones?” Jughead prodded.
“Already cleaned off my old files,” Chuck assured him.
“Get as much footage as you can,” Dilton instructed them. “I’ll splice it together and make it look pretty.”
“Yeah,” Jughead snorted, “pretty.”
As a team, they surveyed the crowd in the room, catching sight of the Blossoms as they stowed books and notes into their Jansport packs and hobnobbed with their friends, all of them reeking with privilege and Axe spray.
“Friday?”
“Friday,” Dilton agreed, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a brief nod. His dark eyes looked shrewd.
*
That Friday:
Priscilla Blossom surveyed the dining room with a jaundiced eye. “We don’t have enough martini glasses. Jason, be a dear and get some from the basement.”
“In a minute,” he called back in annoyance, never taking his green eyes from the screen in front of him. His thumbs were cramping around the controller knobs, but he was halfway through the story mode of Assassin’s Creed.
“NOW!” his mother barked at him. To emphasize her point, she crossed his path and folded her arms, setting her jaw in her best don’t-even-think-of-giving-your-mother-any-shit look. Jason tried to peer around her hip at the screen, but when his eyes traveled the rest of the way up to her face, she didn’t look amused. He hit the pause button and struggled up from the comfy couch.
“I’m on it!”
“Cheryl! Bring in the other flower arrangement and take out the trash!”
“Let Jenkins do it,” Cheryl whined from the kitchen table, where she was filing her nails.
“Get up from there,” Priscilla insisted. Cheryl wasn’t expecting to find her mother hovering over her elbow that quickly, startled by the nearness of her voice. Priscilla strong-armed her out of her dining room chair and snatched the nail file from her hand, chucking it back onto the table. “Go!”
“Mom!” Cheryl tsked and wrinkled her nose in horror. “C’mon! I was busy!”
“I’ve been busy,” she corrected her. “The least you and your brother can do is help me finish getting everything ready. You’ve both sat around like bumps on a log all day. Trash. Flowers. Go.” Cheryl pouted and stomped her foot, then did as she was told. Priscilla side-eyed her when she heard her grumbling under her breath.
“You’re not too old to be smacked,” she reminded her in a sing-song tone.
“I’m going!” Cheryl insisted as she gathered up the remaining two flower arrangements and brought them into the dining room.
“This night’s important to your father. Everything needs to be perfect.”
“Whatever,” Cheryl grumbled. What else was new? Her mother had even picked out what she wanted her and Jay to wear, to her humiliation. The despised outfit was laid out on her bed upstairs and already ironed. Her brother hadn’t lucked out, either; at least she wouldn’t look like she was ready to play eighteen holes and drive a cart.
As long as Cheryl could remember, her parents had held Memorial Day weekend parties at their estate, inviting the Pembroke elite. Percy’s associates held court at the table, flanked by trophy wives and children just as spoiled as the twins. Cheryl sighed to herself in distaste; those awful Cabot twins were due to show up any minute. Alexandra was such a bitch… her brother Alex wasn’t any better, always drooling over her and trying to show off. Rumor had it he had a thing for redheads. Lucky me.
Cheryl fumed all the way to the trash bin out back as she discarded the rank, stinking plastic bags, waving her hand in distaste to shoo away the flies. Her only consolation was the alcohol; once the adults were deep in the grape, they were less likely to notice if a few martini glasses conveniently “disappeared” as the evening progressed. Lacey was going to be there, at least; Cheryl would have someone to commiserate with once the night became really boring. Worse, when her parents hauled out the old home movies, Cheryl wanted to be drunk.
“Cheryl, go freshen up.” Priscilla was tasting a bowl of ambrosia salad that Jenkins pulled from the refrigerator as Cheryl came in through the patio door.
“I’ve got another half-hour, Mother.”
“I want you ready before people actually get here. Hiram and Hermione almost always show up early.”
“Oh, God. Mother, please say you didn’t invite the Lodges this year!”
“It would’ve been bad form not to, dear. We went to their Christmas party, remember?”
“I can’t stand Ron!”
“I don’t know why not. She seems like a sweet girl.”
“Ugh…” Cheryl left the kitchen before she embarrassed herself. Sure. Veronica Lodge: sweet. What a joke. That witch, Cheryl seethed. She needed to get a life. She needed to get a better personal shopper. She needed to walk off a cliff. And she most definitely needed to step aside and get out of Cheryl’s way where Archie Andrews was concerned. Archie, on the other hand, just needed some time to come around after her brother’s latest disaster. Cheryl didn’t know why Archie got his cute little nose out of joint about Jason dumping Betty. Of course she was going to support her twin when he finally got it together to dump that trashy little townie gold digger, and if that support came in the form of letting everyone know how low Betty Cooper was before they made a similar mistake of trusting her and thinking her sweet, then what was the problem?
Cheryl didn’t know what Archie saw in Betty. Sure, she was cute in that little wholesome, Hollie Hobby sort of way, but there was just no pizazz. None. She had no style and no fire, and Betty bored Cheryl to tears.
“Fucking Girl Scout,” Cheryl muttered under her breath as she reached her room.
“I’m surprised Mom didn’t dig your sash and badges out of the attic,” Jason teased from the corridor.
“Shut up.”
“Don’t forget to tie some pink bows on your pigtails tonight, Cher. Dad might break out the camera.”
“Go take a shower. You stink.”
“You’re just smelling your own cooch. Wash that thing between guys, Cher. Sheesh. Phew!” Jason made a face and fanned the air. Cheryl grabbed a throw pillow and brandished it, running at him to give him the bum’s rush. Jason darted away; her throw missed its mark, and the pillow hit a hanging painting, nearly knocking it from its mount and leaving it swinging. “Oooo! Mom’s gonna get youuuuuuu!”
“I hate you!” she snarled. “Get out of my face, Jay!” He chortled as he ducked into his own suite.
“You’re a lousy shot!” His voice was muffled. Cheryl slammed her bedroom door and flopped onto her bed, landing just shy of the dreadful outfit her mother picked out. She sighed. At least it wasn’t seersucker, like the awful pink-and-white, checkered number with a petticoat under it that her mother made her wear on their fifth birthday. She looked like a cupcake.
Cheryl drew herself a floral-scented bath piled high with bubbles and cranked her little iPod, letting the little speaker deck drown out the sounds of the rest of the house. Might as well drag it out as long as she could…
*
“I sure appreciate you helping me out at the last minute,” Papa Segarini assured Jughead, wiping his gleaming forehead with his apron. “This is a huge catering job that the Blossoms booked at the last minute! I’m just glad I got everything done on time!” Jughead smirked indolently as he loaded the last tray in the back of the delivery truck.
“Normally I don’t aid the enemy,” he reminded him. Segarini chuckled.
“Give Pops my best. And give him the finger for me.”
“Just be glad the Blossoms like Italian food,” Jughead reminded him. “Their chef specializes in French.”
“He can specialize in TV dinners for all I care. Hurry up! Go! Don’t let my bruschetta get cold. And the anchovies in the green goddess dressing will get a little high if you let it sit out too long…”
“Yeah, yeah…” Jug touched the edge of his pointed beanie in salute as he drove off. He grinned down at his secret weapon. The slick, rainbow-hued surface of the DVD gleamed up at him with promise.
The Blossoms were going down.
Jughead followed Veronica’s directions easily, noticing that traffic was beginning to pick up after he turned off of the freeway. About expensive-looking cars passed him, and he knew he was headed in the right direction. A few manicured lawns later, he turned right onto Blossom Circle. “Sheesh… must be nice,” he muttered to himself. Fountains. Mile-high iron gates and hedges. They even had a lawn jockey, fer cryin’ out loud. It made the Lodge’s home look like a Howard Johnson’s. As Jughead drove around the circular driveway, a portly man with a florid complexion and pristine white chef’s jacket came running out the front door, flagging him down. Jughead rolled down the window, and the guy was panting in exasperation and exertion.
“No! Not out front! Use the service entrance around the back!”
“What makes you think I’m not here for the party?”
“The name on the side of the truck, genius. Go ‘round the back, and be quick about it. Guest are starting to show up here already. They don’t need to see this dirty truck.” He held his tongue about Jughead’s appearance. The lanky teen smirked at him, less than dapper in his Yoda t-shirt and gray beanie, legs comfortably bared by his baggy board shorts and Teva sandals. Jughead nodded to him and followed the direction of his pointing hand, humming cheerfully. He patted the disc beside him, excited that his plan was working so well, with relatively little effort on his part. That was the best kind of plan.
Jenkins met him around the back and began to help him unload the truck. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Eccchhh… I can smell the anchovies.”
“I’d keep it in the fridge until you’re ready to serve it,” Jughead offered helpfully. “Otherwise it might get a little high.”
“Tell your boss we only went with his catering business because Vito’s in Pembroke was already booked. He should thank me, since my boss invited twice as many guests to this year’s dinner as he did last spring. I needed help, kid, but don’t make me regret it.” He side-eyed Jughead. “You always work for Segarini dressed like that?”
“This is my side job. I’m a musician.” He didn’t mention that he was still in high school, or that he played most of his concerts in garages and gymnasiums. He almost bit his tongue when the guy asked him if he worked for Segarini. As if. Jughead was loyal to Pops, but if his seeming defection helped him redeem Betty’s good name, then so be it.
“Don’t quit your day job, kid.” Jughead’s smirk dropped, but Jenkins turned his attention back to the food. “Is this the antipasto?”
“I guess so.”
“Green goddess salad?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“It’ll do.”
“Fine. Can I use your bathroom?” Jenkins gave a long-suffering sigh.
“Be quick about it. That way.” Jughead followed his finger again toward the back hall.
“Thanks, bud.”
“Don’t thank me if that antipasto’s as bad as I think it is. Mrs. B. will have my head.”
Jughead headed down the hall, scoping out the house. The Blossom twins were nowhere in sight. He glanced around and noticed the door to the front den.
Bingo. They had a theater-sized flat screen and Blue-Ray player, all set up and ready to go. Jughead sniggered to himself as his eyes landed on two DVDs. The first one was labeled “Jason and Cheryl, Copied from VHS.” Jughead shook his head; who ever watched VHS tapes, anyway? Dinosaurs? Mr. Wetherbee?
Jughead took his disc and switched it for the one in the first case, whose label named its footage the oldest, birth to age five. It was sickening, he mused. He’d hate it if his own folks dragged out family movies for mixed company to watch, especially the dreaded “bathtub” shot or him running around in Underoos and cowboy boots, waving a toy six-shooter. His mother kept threatening to play it for his prom date, and now that he actually had one – Brigitte said yes – he was worried she would make good on that promise. He cringed. Sheesh… the horrors.
“Where is that delivery boy? He went this way to use the can,” Jenkins grumbled from down the hall. Jug dropped the DVD back on the coffee table and darted toward the door. “You!”
“Me?”
“Out! Guests have started to arrive!”
“I haven’t even-“
“Cry me a river, kid. Go. Scram! Move that truck!”
“I got it! I’m going!” Jughead hurried for the back door, trying to ignore the complaints from his bladder.
He squirmed the rest of the drive back to Segarini’s, but it was worth it.
*
Dilton and Chuck watched from the shrubs behind the front gate as the guests’ cars filed into the driveway. He saw Ginger Lopez climb out of her tiny Audi. “Ginger,” Dilton hissed. She turned briefly and caught his eye, then glanced over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being watched. “Take this. Plant it somewhere close to the TV.” He handed her a tiny, wireless Web cam he’d designed himself. “We’ll be out here, picking up the feed.”
“I’m glad you guys are my friends,” Ginger mused. “I’d hate it if you decided to go after me.”
“Stay golden, Ginger,” Chuck suggested, puckering his lips in an air-kiss. Ginger tsked, chuckling as she headed for the party. Sanford, the head butler, showed her inside the foyer. Cheryl was already holding court with her friends in the den. Cheryl looked bored out of her mind, and Ginger was secretly pleased to see her in a floral-printed Laura Ashley number with a demure hemline that reached just above her ankles.
“Don’t say it,” Cheryl warned her in gritted teeth.
“It’s… so wholesome,” Ginger assured her, kissing her cheek.
“Bah!”
“Is that bruschetta?”
“Have one. But skip the antipasto. Something in it winked at me.”
Cheryl went back to regaling Midge, Lacey, and some of her Pembroke friends of her last trip to St. Maarten over winter break, glad for the moment that they were ignoring her. She took that moment to look for a perch for the Web cam. She peered down into it and murmured, “Hope you guys can hear me.”
“Loud and clear, beautiful. Loud and clear,” Dilton muttered back, doubting that she was listening to him. His perspective of the room kept rocking and turning as she moved around, making up her mind where to put it. She finally settled for setting it on top of a truly homely clay sculpture in the corner, turning it so the tiny lens faced the set. “Bingo. We’re in.”
“Nice.”
“Now we wait.” The boys clicked on their smartphones and played Candy Crush for a while. Chuck swatted a mosquito just as it landed on his arm; the air was beginning to cool down as the sun went down.
It was just a matter of time.
*
The night progressed as Jason and Cheryl could have predicted. Cedric attempted to pick up on Ginger, and the kitchen rang with the sound of her slap. No one sympathized with him. “What?” he yelled after her. “I got new seat covers in my Ferrari, babe! I just asked if you wanted to try ‘em out!”
“Get bent,” she tossed back.
“You kids behave,” Priscilla hissed at Cheryl. “Don’t let your friends turn this into a frat house. Keep them in check, or they all go.”
“Mother!” she whined. “It’s so boring!”
“That’s not my fault. You kids have free rein of the basement to play your little games.” Only her mother would refer to their Xbox Kinect console as their “little games.”
“No, we don’t. Daddy kicked us out. He and Mr. Lodge are drinking scotch and talking about annuities, or some weird thing.”
“Hiram and Hermione are downstairs?” Priscilla brightened. “Where’s Veronica?”
“Out back,” Cheryl informed her flatly. “I just might puke.”
“Stop it. Be a nice hostess.”
“Fine.” Cheryl stomped outside, pouting the entire way, flanked by Lacey and Ginger. Ginger caught sight of Veronica, nonchalantly picking at a tiny plate of crudités. She glared at the gaggle of Pembroke boys who ogled her legs in her short sundress, but she smirked when she saw Cheryl’s ensemble.
“How quaint!”
“Shut. Up.”
“You won’t get your virginity back in that, but nice try, Cher.”
“I repeat, Shut. UP.”
“Awww,” Veronica pouted. She walked up and grasped Cheryl’s shoulders and air-kissed her on both cheeks. “It’s all right, Blossom. It’s your party, you can cry if you want to.”
“Your mom let you off your leash for a few minutes?” Veronica shrugged coolly.
“She has her wine.” Cheryl sighed.
“That makes one of us.”
Cheryl accomplished her filial duty, and she turned from Veronica dismissively. Ronnie and Ginger caught each other’s eye and winked.
It was going to get ugly.
*
Jughead was the mastermind behind the plan, but the best part had been the timing. Even though her previous, ill-fated attraction to Jason Blossom had left a bad taste in her mouth, Veronica still occasionally got dragged along to luncheons with her mother at her ladies’ club. She’d grown accustomed to smiling until her face hurt and giving Priscilla Blossom polite, pat answers like a trained parrot. She wasn’t all bad, but her daughter… Veronica shuddered.
She’d suffered more than one of the Blossom family’s cookouts. At least this time, she had a couple of friends from school nearby, and the mission to complete of humiliating her most hated rival. No one hurt her bestie.
Jason sidled up to her and was just about to open his mouth. Without looking at him, Veronica intoned, “Don’t even THINK about it.” He shut his mouth, glared, and slunk away. Veronica smiled calmly and sipped her ginger ale.
It was good to still be the queen…
*
Three interminable hours later found the party in full swing. The adults were ensconced in the den with their after-dinner wines and scotch. Cheryl and Jason raided the basement supply, covertly topping off several Coke bottles with expensive rum and smuggling them upstairs to their friends. Easy listening music pumped from the speakers, and Veronica and Cheryl both wanted to die when their parents got up and cut a rug with the rest of the old fogeys.
“Please, stop,” Cheryl whined softly. Veronica merely facepalmed.
“Your mom’s really shaking it,” Jason remarked.
“It’s the wine. Shut your piehole.”
“Work it, Mrs. L!” Jason cheered.
“Go hop in your golf cart,” Veronica snapped. Cheryl sniggered and swigged her doctored bottle of Coke.
“Up yours.”
“Get bent.”
“If this is how the rich live,” Ginger murmured to Midge, not bothering to finish the sentence.
“Count me out,” Midge agreed, shaking her head. “Glad I don’t roll like that.” She had a gruesome thought. “What if that’s us in thirty years?”
“Slap your own mouth.”
Priscilla sailed over to the stereo and turned down the volume on the music.
“Oh, no,” Jason groaned as he saw his mom pick up the DVD cases he loathed.
“It’s time. Home movies!” she sang.
“Mommmm,” Jason whined.
“Mother, if you love me, you’ll put those away,” Cheryl cajoled. “I’ll clean my own room for a month!”
“Ooh. Tempting. Nah,” her mother declined sweetly, patting her cheek. “Sit down! Get comfy! Percy, turn down the lights!” Veronica silently gloated. Midge and Ginger hovered near the door with baited breath. Percy pushed the DVD into the console and hit play.
“I love the one with you when you were four, when you had those cute Rainbow Brite PJ’s,” Priscilla exclaimed.
“Mother. Please. Enough.”
“Aw. You’re still my baby. Pipe down.” Priscilla sank down into the sofa cushions with her wine glass. Cheryl took another hearty swig of her Coke, attempting to anesthetize herself.
Ginger almost felt guilty for her part in Jughead’s plan, but it was too tempting to pass up. Lifting the disc the last time she visited Cher had been Veronica’s suggestion when she mentioned that the Blossoms were fond of showing the old footage at their get-togethers. Jughead traded it for the one that Dilton had doctored, splicing together old footage with new, covert stuff gleaned from his friends’ smartphones. It was easy to get; the Blossom twins incriminated themselves on a daily basis. So much for private school teaching a kid class, Ginger mused.
The lights went down, and the Blueray player hummed to life. Older, choppy footage of Percy and Priscilla appeared on the screen, holding two red-haired babies in matching mint green receiving blankets. The prerequisite “Awwww!’s” greeted this, and Cheryl groaned.
“Shoot me now.”
“Hush!” her mother hissed.
The footage continued on through their first birthday, showing the twins smashing and devouring cake and smearing frosting in their hair and all over their high chair trays.
“Lookin’ good, bro,” Cedric teased, cramming a bruschetta into his mouth.
“Up yours.”
Thanks to Dilton’s seamless editing, it was sudden and jarring when the footage shifted from old to new. Cheryl sat at her lunch table, thronged by her friends and holding her hands apart in the universal gesture for someone well-endowed.
“I swear to God, he was THIS BIG,” she chortled. “I wouldn’t lie to you. His dick was HUGE…”
“What?” Priscilla’s mouth gaped, and she nearly dropped her wine. The blood drained out of Cheryl’s face.
“The condom almost didn’t fit,” she bragged. “We made it work…”
“Made WHAT work, young lady?” Priscilla looked livid. Cheryl swallowed roughly.
“Nothing! Nothing worked, Mother! That’s… just ignore that!”
The scene onscreen changed to a five-year-old Cheryl at a carnival, holding a teddy bear her father had won for her and biting into a corn dog, grinning at whoever was holding the camera. Jason’s friends sniggered without mercy in the back of the room.
“Sweet,” Cedric murmured thoughtfully. Jason slapped him upside the back of the head.
Footage of Jason at the beach came next, showing him playing in the sand with a shovel and pail. He walked a small Superman action figure up a hill of sand he’d just upended from the bucket. “I’m Supermaaaannnnn, doo-doo-doo-doo-dooooo…” Cedric howled, but they were all silent when the scene changed again to Jason at a recent party, where he wore a grass skirt over his board shorts and was singing a memorable rendition of “Paparazzi.” Percy rubbed his eyes in shame and confusion at the spectacle his son made in front of his friends, the children of people he had to work with everyday. Every adult in the room was aghast. The scene cut again to Jason making out with a girl behind the bleachers at a basketball game, behaving less than gentlemanly.
“Grab onto it,” he encouraged her. The expensive speakers heightened the sounds they made as they groped each other and their breathing grew heavy.
“JASON!” Priscilla shrieked.
Cheryl wasn’t spared further humiliation. She mentally counted weeks of being grounded as the scene flashed to her at age five one moment, dressed up in costume jewelry and a feather boa, talking to her dolls, then doing a mock strip tease at Lacey’s house party the next. The camera zoomed in close when Cheryl pretended to fellate a green popsicle.
“Good Lord,” Percy muttered, scrubbing his face with his palm. “All right. That’ll do. Time for Ultimate Fighting. We’ve got it on Pay-Per-View. Hiram, open that other bottle of scotch.”
“All RIGHT!” Cedric crowed.
“Out. All you kids, out. Except for you two,” Priscilla barked, deflating his sails. Imperiously she waved everyone under the age of forty out of the den.
“Veronica, it will be best if you just wait in the car,” Hermione informed her stiffly.
“Yes, Mother.” Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth as she nodded briefly to Cheryl. “It was… fun.”
“I hate you,” she hissed through her tears.
“We’ll just… y’know, go,” Ginger suggested, grabbing Midge by the elbow as they made a hasty exit. Midge had already made a furtive grab for the tiny Web cam and was stuffing it into her purse. While the room was clearing out, the DVD still played, and Cheryl and Jason watched themselves in shame, all of their antics blown up on a big screen.
“Mother… it’s not what it looks like,” Cheryl began, voice wobbling.
“That looks like something, young lady. How could you?”
“I never want to see that again,” Percy boomed.
“Just get rid of the tape!” Jason piped up. If he ever had to watch their old home movies with company again, it would be too soon.
Percy’s only reply was a swift slap upside the back of his son’s auburn head.
*
“It’s about time, girls. I was getting eaten alive,” Chuck told Ginger and Midge as they made their escape, opening up the security gate. They all climbed into Ginger’s tiny Audi, and she drove the boys back to Chuck’s little truck down the street.
“Did you get it all?” Dilton patted his laptop.
“Got the spy cam?”
“Yup.” Midge handed it back to him. “That was a close call.”
“Cheryl’s never inviting me over again, but it was worth it.” Ginger sighed. “The food sucked.”
“Tasted like Segarini’s,” Midge added. “You guys didn’t miss anything.”
“I wish Betty had been here to see this,” Chuck mused.
“It’ll be like she was,” Dilton promised. He patted the laptop again. “It’ll be just like she was.”
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Pigtails