Adult-FanFiction.org : Comics

The Girl Next Door	By : CeeCee Category: Comics > Archie & Co. Views: 4771 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Archies fandom. I'm not making any money for writing this piece of sh- I mean, fiction.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Summary: More shenanigans.
"Betty, where were you?" Veronica demanded. Betty paused in rummaging through her locker for her social studies book. "I waited for you in Miss Beazley's class, but you never showed up."
"I'm not in her class this semester," Betty explained.
"What? Betty, you promised we were going to take it with me. I had to partner up with Midge," she complained.
"Midge is okay."
"She's not you," Veronica pouted. "Which section of home ec are you in?"
"None of them. I signed up for wood shop."
"SHOP? Are you KIDDING?"
"No. I wanted to take it this year."
"But... that's ridiculous. Shop class." Betty nodded and grinned. "Seriously?"
"Yup."
"Girls don't take shop," Veronica pointed out.
"Ethel and Nancy are taking it next semester," Betty shrugged. "Should be fun. You should switch and be in my class."
"Pfft... no. No way am I getting sawdust all over my clothes, and it stinks in there." Veronica was right; the shop lab smelled like varnish and polyurethane; she'd heard Moose joking about sneaking in after hours to huff the fumes.
"I want to build one of those little plant stands for my mom. I can give it to her for her birthday."
"Just buy one," Veronica snorted.
"That defeats the purpose. I get two credits."
"I still can't believe you're taking shop."
"It's no big deal. Can I just point out one thing, since I know you're not going to let me hear the end of it?"
"Point away."
"Archie's taking shop." Veronica had been about to shake a mint Tic-Tac into Betty's palm, but she paused, box hovering in mid-air.
"ARCHIE'S taking it??"
"Well, yeah. You said there aren't any girls taking it, but Ron... c'mon. What's wrong with that?"
"Are there any more empty spots?"
*
"You're taking home ec again?" Archie demanded. Jughead wound up his iPod's ear buds and crammed them into the pocket of his hoodie.
"Yup."
"You took it last quarter."
"I asked to take it again. It was easy."
"What's wrong with shop?"
"What's wrong with home ec?" he challenged. "Let's see. Fiddle around with tools. Make an ash tray, which I won’t use. Make a planter shelf, which, oh yeah, I won‘t use. Or, fiddle around with food. Make food. Eat food. I can't make up my mind..." Jughead gave his best friend a clueless look. Archie shook his head. "I'm surprised you're not clamoring to get into home ec again. It's full of girls."
"That why you're taking it?" Archie accused.
"Pffftt... no. Get bent."
*
Ethel hung on every word of their home ec teacher's lesson, scribbling down the recipe in her notebook. She kept sneaking looks at Jughead from the corner of her eye, glad she managed to get the table behind his. She lost out on the seat beside him when his cousin Bingo ended up in class the first day, because wood shop was full. She felt indignant, but having a ringside seat to admire him was a fine consolation prize. It wasn’t technically stalking, was it?
Eighth grade hadn't brought many changes in Ethel's status; she was still single and had never been kissed. To add insult to injury, she'd grown another inch in height but hadn't gained a cup size, something she resented that much more when her mother took her shopping for the semi-formal mixer. She was excited for it, yet she dreaded it.
Jughead steadfastly ignored her. Every time she saw him, her stomach took flight with butterflies and little hiccups of pleasure, but as soon as she made eye contact with him successfully, she froze, began stammering, got sweaty palms, and inevitably embarrassed herself.
Once in a while, her gaze would linger too long, and she would daydream, lovely images of the two of them holding hands in the library when they were supposed to be studying, having Oreos in her kitchen, sitting together in a darkened movie theater... they were pipe dreams. She imagined what it would be like to kiss him, and if it would feel like a scene out of Degrassi. Sometimes, her reverie was cruelly dashed to bits when he felt her eyes at his back. For one split second his pupils would dilate with recognition, and brief thrills of anticipation would quicken her pulse, but his mouth would twist in distaste, destroying any and all semblance of hope.
"What're you looking at?"
"Nothing," she would mutter. "Uh... there was a fly, buzzing around your head. It's gone now."
"Suuuure there was," Bingo drawled once in reply, smirking at her discomfort. Ethel would pretend to be engrossed in her notebook, cheeks flaming and cursing her lack of self-control, wishing for one of Riverdale's rumored sinkholes to open up beneath her and end her misery. Bingo enjoyed her awkwardness and the opportunity to laugh at her expense where his cousin was concerned. Ethel was such a goof...
At least Nancy was her partner, so that gave her a reprieve from having to sit next to any of the Pembroke girls. Cheryl, Bryce and Lacey all took home ec and spent most of the notetaking time flipping through Marie Claire and applying makeup. Ethel wanted to feel jealous about it - her mother wasn't keen on letting her wear more than clear polish or pink lip gloss yet - but the girls were so nasty, it diminished their beauty in her eyes. Betty was just as pretty, and she didn't act like that, Ethel mused. Neither did Nancy, for that matter, but her dark-skinned friend was a straight-shooter and didn't tolerate nonsense from anyone, making her someone Ethel was grateful to have in her corner. Nancy could already cook pretty well, so the class would be a slam dunk.
Cheryl caught Ethel's wandering glance and made a rude face. "Quit looking over here, dog butt," she hissed. Miss Beazly turned from the blackboard, narrowing her eyes at Cheryl.
"You. Quiet while I'm giving the recipe. Don't make me give you detention this early in the game."
"But-"
"Ah-ah! Zip it!" Miss Beazly's bony fingers made "I'm watching you" motions toward her eyes, and she pointed at her, cutting off her argument. "That's enough out of you, Sassy Pants."
"Sassy pants?" Nancy murmured, snorting. Ethel snickered behind her hand. Miss Beazly's eyes flitted over them briefly, too.
"Pipe down over there." The girls straightened up, but their effort to wipe away their smirks was unsuccessful. Cheryl gave Ethel a dirty look and bent over her notebook diligently. Ethel was nearly finished transcribing it when she felt something bounce off the back of her head. She whipped around, but the partners immediately behind her were writing, not even looking at her. She turned back around, but felt another offending tap, this time noticing a tiny spitball landing on the floor. Ethel hissed in annoyance, and turned again, muttering "Quit it, whoever it is!"
"What's going on?" Miss Beazly accused.
"I'm getting spitballed," Ethel complained.
"Fine," Miss Beazly decided briskly. "Next spitball earns somebody detention." Her steely gray eyes scanned the class. "Are we clear?" Ethel thought she heard a smothered snicker behind her and toward her left. She chanced a look and found Fangs Fogarty looking away, suddenly interested in the set of teaspoons at his work station. He felt her gaze and returned it with feigned annoyance.
"What?" he mouthed, shrugging at her. Ethel frowned at the page of slightly torn paper in front of him; the top corner had a jagged edge. Her cheeks flamed, and she turned away from him, determined to ignore him.
He made that difficult, even on the best of days. Fangs was the scourge of the playground at Riverdale Elementary, the kind of kid the other boys befriended in an effort to avoid being his next target.
Amusement danced in his brown eyes, and his fingers busied themselves making another spitball under his desk. Beside him, Ambrose doodled sketches in his notebook of aliens and pirates while he was supposed to be taking down the recipe. Ambrose's eyes flicked over at what he was doing, and his sigh was long-suffering.
"You're gonna get in trouble," he whispered.
"So?" he challenged. "I love messing with her."
"That's messed up." Ambrose shook his head.
"Go back to Roswell, freak," Fangs countered.
"I hear my time being wasted," Miss Beazly warned sternly as she paused in her lesson. "Mr. Fogarty," she snapped.
"Ma'am."
"Repeat back to me what I just told the class."
"Uh..."
"That's not what I told the class. You don't have a clue, do you?"
"Um... knead the dough, but not too many times?"
"Nice try. We're doing sauced vegetables in this lesson, though."
"Uh..."
"That'll be enough out of you. I'm taking ten points off your score for the day. That means you, too, Ambrose. I see you doodling over there."
"Aw, man."
"Big deal," Fangs muttered under his breath. Ambrose elbowed him.
"Thanks a lot," he whispered back.
Ethel faced the front of the class, smiling a smug little smile.
*
Betty carefully traced the pattern onto her plank with the number two pencil while Mr. Krosskut explained the table saw to Moose. His plank was already marked, and he had his safety goggles on, propped up on his forehead like sunglasses. Betty was impressed to see the burly jock engrossed in their teacher's instruction for a change, instead of wearing a glazed look or goofing off.
"Go ahead and put those on, son," Mr. Krosskut told him, nodding to his goggles. Moose obeyed him and then lined up the plank on the platform. He flicked on the power switch, filling the room with the saw’s cacophony. Betty winced at the grating whine of the blade slicing through the wood. Moose guided it easily, cutting away the scraps and smoothing the edges by tiny increments. “Nice work, son.” Moose nodded his thanks and headed to the supply drawers to get himself a piece of sandpaper.
Archie and Reggie were horsing around off to the side, arguing which Mortal Kombat character had the best fatality. Betty watched them wistfully, almost feeling left out.
She jumped a mile when someone poked her sharply in her side; she was horrendously ticklish. Betty whirled on Chuck, who was looking entirely too pleased with himself. Betty reached out and slugged him in the chest.
“You hit like a girl!”
“Jerk,” she hissed.
“Scared you good.”
“Did not. I hate being tickled!” Betty stood in the short line of people getting ready to use the saw, letting her goggles hang from her neck.
“Hey, Bets. Do me a favor?”
“Why?” Betty gave him a flip look and planted her hand on her hip. Chuck rocked back on his heels and rubbed his nape, grinning at her.
“C’mon,” Chuck wheedled. “I was just messing with you. Don’t be mad.”
“Whatever.”
“Get me Nancy’s number?” His voice lowered to a murmur.
“Wait… what?” Betty whirled on him again, and her blue eyes widened mischievously. “Nancy? You LIKE-“ Chuck shushed her hastily, glancing around to see if anyone was listening.
“Don’t let the whole world know, girl! Sheesh,” he admonished hastily. “Just ask her if I can call her.”
“Hmmmm…” Betty smirked and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I don’t know if I should…”
“C’monnnnn!” Chuck whined, rolling his eyes and throwing up his hands. “You can do this for me, Bets. It’s one little favor.” Her eyes lit up, and she leaned in close.
“Is it a repayable favor?”
“Wait… by ‘repayable,’ what are we talking?”
“Nothing special, <i>yet.</i>…”
“Ooh. Nothing illegal or freaky, right? All I want is her number…” Betty slugged his arm this time.
“Nothing freaky. Hello? Not a freak, here. It’s no big deal. I’ll ask her if you can call her.” Moose finished his turn at the saw, and Jinx moved up next.
“You’re scaring me, Bets. You didn’t say nothing illegal, either.”
“I wouldn’t get you in trouble. You know that.” Betty pouted up at him, and he clapped her shoulder cheerfully.
“Solid!” Chuck glanced around again, then spoke near her ear. “So, what’s her number?”
“Let me ask her first, then I’ll give it to you. I see her next period.”
Their exchange broke off abruptly at the sour squeal of the saw, and Betty caught Jinx’s briefly muttered “Shit!” as a chunk of wood broke loose and flew across the room. She caught Archie ducking out of the corner of her eye, and Mr. Krosskut slapped the off switch to the saw. Betty clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled.
“When that dude was born, he probably set the hospital on fire,” Chuck guessed.
“Be nice,” Betty hissed. Jinx Molloy enjoyed a love affair with Misfortune, both enduring and constant. Archie earned a reprieve from being Riverdale Junior’s residence klutz whenever Jinx stumbled into a room. Dollar bets were made every time he left the cafeteria line with a tray, and they were won every time it went clattering all over the floor, whether he tripped over his laces or managed to stop in just the wrong place at precisely the wrong time. Betty pitied him, but she still kept her distance.
The door’s creak caught Betty’s attention, and Veronica strode inside, looking smug. She squealed briefly as she joined her bestie, grabbing her hand. “I told you I’d get to switch!”
“Hall pass?” Mr. Krosskut inquired dryly as he scratched his mustache.
“I just added this on. I switched out of home ec,” Veronica explained, adding, “My daddy just spoke to the principal.”
“Your daddy isn’t the one showing up ten minutes late for class,” he pointed out.
“They were printing up my new schedule in the office,” Veronica informed him, holding it up. He took it from her briefly.
“Hmmmm… changed to Wood Shop, eh?” He nodded to Betty. “She on the level, kiddo? Should I let her in? Think she’ll work out?”
“I’ll keep her in line,” Betty promised solemnly. Her expression was dry, and she could feel Veronica practically bursting beside her, despite the brunette’s pout.
“That’s my cue to go,” Chuck decided as he retreated to his work table.
“That’s my girl,” Mr. Krosskut agreed, giving Betty’s ponytail a tug. “Be glad she’s my star student,” he warned Veronica. “Betty’s got pull. Behave.”
“Of course. I’m a Lodge. I know how to conduct myself.” Veronica gave him her best lah-di-dah flounce.
“Good for you. Now, it’s time to learn how to build a plant shelf. Go pick out a plank.” Veronica automatically looped her hand around Betty’s arm and dragged her to the bin to select a board.
“Help me pick.” She rejected the first one she held up. “No. It’s got a hole in it.” She tried another. “Too dark.” She frowned and shook her head at the third. “It’s got a weird little burn mark in it. And look at that knothole.”
“Almost all of them have knotholes,” Betty told her in annoyance. “Just pick one.”
“There he is!” Veronica interjected. “He’s so hot!” Betty sighed and peered in Archie’s general direction. If Betty had to be honest, then yes, the redhead was looking rather yummy in his faded jeans and gray Hurley tee, his feet shod in red Chuck Taylors.
“Pick your board,” Betty reminded her.
“Here, you do it, you’re good at that kind of thing!” Veronica hurried off, leaving Betty sorting through the bins.
“Wait… what?” Veronica sidled up to the object of Betty’s admiration and covered his eyes from behind. Betty watched their “guess who?” exchange with a modicum of disgust. Veronica pretended interest in Archie’s work table, asking him if she could copy his notes. Betty held her tongue; Archie hadn’t taken the best notes, and she would benefit from borrowing them if she actually wanted a decent grade. Betty decided she would let her bestie dig that hole all by herself, and if need be, jump right into it.
Betty yelped in annoyance as her shirt collar was yanked back at her nape and something rough flew under it, chafing her back. She danced and flailed in an attempt to shake it loose. “Yi-yieeEE! Ooh!” She turned in exasperation to meet Reggie’s face, the vision of innocence.
All except for that twinkle in those brown eyes. She longed to smack him.
She met the delicious curl of his smirk with a black scowl. “Jerk,” she hissed. “What’s wrong with you, Mantle?”
“What? I didn’t do anything,” he claimed nonchalantly. “Gotta be careful in shop class, Cooper. Watch out for flying wood.”
“You watch out,” she snapped as she shook out the tail of her top from her waistband and freed the tiny piece of broken dowel. She picked it up and threw it at him. He flinched out of the way, so it missed him, but his chuckle was delighted. Reggie got her goat, so his day was complete. Mr. Krosskut looked up from the saw and pointed at them both with V’d fingers, making the classic “I’m watching you” gesture.
“Betty, don’t make me give you a demerit. No horsing around and throwing things in my class.” Betty flushed an angry scarlet.
“He started it.”
“Don’t finish it,” he admonished, but he gave Reggie a stern look. “I’ve got a whole bag of demerits with your name on it if you don’t straighten up, Mantle. Understood?”
“Yup,” Reggie piped up soberly. When his teacher turned away, Reggie continued to harass her. He elbowed her, earning himself another frown.
“Why’d you girls even take shop? Why don’t you just go take cooking class?”
“I did that last year,” Betty huffed in annoyance. “I already got an A. Why take it again?”
“What are you going to do after this? Become a carpenter?”
“No. When I get to high school, I’m taking auto shop. Stuff it, Reggie.” His look was skeptical; he grunted in amusement.
“Sure. Rosie the Riveter. That’ll be the day.” He nodded to Veronica, who was ignoring the lesson in favor of freshening her lip gloss. “I know Ron’s not taking auto shop.” Betty sighed and marked her other two planks with a water soluble pen.
“Who’s taking auto shop?” Archie inquired, eavesdropping.
“Betty says she wants to be a grease monkey when she grows up,” Reggie told him.
“No, I didn’t! Quit it!” Betty brandished her hand, ready to smack him. Reggie pretended to duck. “Quit making stuff up!”
“She’s taking auto shop,” Reggie scoffed. Archie shrugged.
“Sounds good to me. When you’re a mechanic, you can give me a good deal,” Archie teased. “My dad keeps complaining about how the car needs a new transmission and how it’s gonna cost a fortune.”
“That old, beat-up station wagon?” Reggie shook his head. “That thing’s a heap. He should trade it in.”
“So?” Archie waved away the suggestion, frowning. “It still runs. When I can drive, I’m gonna save my money and get a classic car.”
“Nah. I’m gonna get a convertible,” Reggie bragged. Betty figured he would, too; his dad, Ricky Mantle, was the editor in chief of the town’s newspaper and made decent money. Reggie was an only child, and he was duly spoiled. Much like Veronica, he pretty much got whatever he wanted.
“If you can stand around talking, you can clean up. Tidy up those work tables and put your supplies away,” Mr. Krosskut barked. Reggie caught Archie’s eyes and pulled a goofy face. Archie snickered.
“Auto shop. We’ll get you some of those coveralls with your name sewn on the pocket,” Reggie told her.
“Get bent,” Betty snarled under her breath as she put away her ruler and T-square.
“Wouldn’t be any more out of style than what you have on,” Veronica teased, poking her. Betty gave her a wounded look.
“Shut up,” Betty insisted. Archie’s lips twisted; Reggie shook his head.
“Burned!” Betty waited for him to turn his back and found the scrap of wood dowel. She darted up behind him, grabbed a handful of his collar, and chucked the pellet down his neck. “HEY!” She skirted away from him before Mr. Krosskut could see her standing behind him. Their teacher gave them a hard look. Betty raised her brows innocently.
“Everything’s fine,” she claimed.
“What? She… did you see what she did? Betty’s horsing around!” Reggie claimed, pinning her with a frown, then looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth when he faced his teacher.
“Demerits, Mr. Mantle. Let it go.”
“But-“
“That’s enough!”
Betty flounced past him when the bell rang, and she skipped out of firing range as he chucked the dowel at her. She flicked one last glance back at him and stuck out her tongue.
*
Betty fumed her way home, pedaling like a maniac and relishing the sound of autumn leaves crackling under her wheels. What was Reggie’s deal? And why wasn’t Veronica saying anything to defend her? All she did was sit there, flirt with Archie, and put on her makeup! Betty wondered briefly why Veronica was still her bestie at times like these…
She parked her bike in the garage and keyed her way inside. Her parents’ cars weren’t in the driveway yet, which meant she could snack on what she wanted without any lectures about spoiling her dinner. Betty tugged her iPod Touch out of her purse and plugged it into the portable speaker in the kitchen, turning up the volume a little more than necessary. It was satisfying to be home alone with her thoughts.
“Meowr!” Caramel padded into the room and automatically rubbed against Betty’s legs, purring for attention and treats. Betty reached down and ruffled the middle-aged marmalade tabby’s thick fur.
“You’re so spoiled,” she remarked fondly. Betty went to the cupboard and fished out a can of Fancy Feast. She grimaced at the odor as she peeled back the lid. She swatted the cat down when she leapt up onto the counter. “You know better than that. Giddown, kitty. Be good.” Marmalade flicked her tail impatiently, crying for her dinner. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear you…” Betty set the dish on the floor and watched the kitty attack it like no one ever fed her. She was getting roly-poly, and her winter coat was coming in.
Betty went to the fridge for a Coke and saw her mother’s Post-it note.
Go ahead and start dinner. Your father will be home at five, but I’m working late. Love you. XOXO
“Boooooo,” Betty muttered. That meant she’d have to finish the breakfast dishes, too, her least favorite chore. Lucky Veronica had a housekeeper that took care of everything like that; she acted like Betty was performing an arcane ritual when she set the table for dinner the night she invited her friend over.
Betty found a bowl of marinating chicken breasts and bag of broccoli florets. She preheated the oven and took out a can of biscuit dough, figuring that would suffice. Betty hummed along with her music while she located pots and pans. Just as she punctured the Pillsbury can and peeled back the label, jumping slightly as the dough exploded at her, she heard a raucous burst of laughter outside.
Feminine laughter. Piqued, she crept into the back hall and drew aside the curtain.
Reggie was pedaling his bike at a snail’s pace, while the new girl, Cricket, strolled alongside him. She was petite and freckled, and her red hair rivaled Archie’s, but she wore it in a messy little pixie cut. Betty’s cheeks flamed, and an ugly tingle spread through her chest. What was he doing riding along after her? Annoyance flavored that thought, but she couldn’t stop watching them interact, fascinated by the way Cricket was acting around him.
She hung on his every word, occasionally ducking her head when he said something silly. She paused in the street and giggled as Reggie circled her on his bike. It reminded Betty of a documentary she watched with her mother once about ducks during mating season. The drake would chase the female bird around the lake in slow circles, bobbing its head up and down in an attempt to flirt with and impress her. Once he felt there was an opportunity, the little, feathered rascal would pounce on her from behind. Betty never looked at waterfowl the same again…
They stopped, and Betty saw Cricket reach into her notebook and tear off a scrap of paper. Betty’s breath caught in suspense… she was going to give Reggie Mantle her number? Her cheeks flamed, and Betty felt a strange frisson of regret that it wasn’t her, and that the boy wasn’t Archie. Reggie obligingly gave her his back and crouched slightly; Cricket used him as a surface and scribbled her number on the tiny scrap, capping her pen and folding it up. Cricket’s face was flushed and smug, and she backed away from him slowly, dragging out their goodbye. It seemed like it took forever until Betty saw Reggie disappear from view. The low grind of his bike tires rolling up his driveway told her that the show was over.
“Wow.” Betty suddenly felt deprived. Her “frenemy” across the way beat her to the punch and had someone interested in him already. Betty wondered when her turn would come. Cricket looked so loopy and smitten that Betty wanted to gag, but it was intriguing to watch. Was that how it felt when a boy was interested in you and wanted your attention?
She couldn’t wait to find out.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Girl Next Door