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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Summary: School dances. Let the humiliations and confusion continue.

Author’s Note: I think people reading my stories must think I don’t like Archie much. I’ve always been on the fence in that regard. On the one hand, he isn’t a mean person. On the other hand, he’s a two-timing user. Yeah. You see where I’m torn.

“How about this one?”

“I don’t like it with the red. Try the blue.”

“I hate the blue.”

“It matches your eyes.”

“But it’s a drab blue. We should’ve gone to Rave,” Betty complained, turning to rehang a red and white striped blouse in the closet. She tugged on the hem of another chambray button-down top that had flattering pintucking and short sleeves, carefully gathered in the back at the waist to emphasize its narrow curve. It was a nice enough blouse any other day, but tonight, it felt drab.

“Go with that one. Wear the white jeans,” Veronica suggested helpfully. Betty made a face.

“Maybe if I put a bracelet with it. Or something. It needs some color.”

“It looks fine.” Betty sighed.

“I don’t even know what to do with my hair.”

“Put it up.”

“I don’t want it up.”

“Then wear it down.”

“It’ll make me sweat.” And it never failed. As soon as Betty had her hair just the way she wanted it, flowing around her face in well-behaved waves, one drop of sweat made it frizz up in a flyaway mess. She took the blouse off the hanger and reached for her table-top ironing board, laying it on the bed.

“Picky, picky.”

“What’re you wearing?”

“This.” Veronica opened up her overnight duffle and pulled out a pink plastic shopping bag with white handles. Betty inwardly groaned; of course she had something brand new.

And red. Eye-popping red.

“We can’t both wear red. We’ll look like the Bobsey Twins.” Veronica drew the short red dress with three-quarter length sleeves from the bag and laid it out, then pulled out a pair of little two-inch pumps.

Betty burned with envy. The outfit Ronnie picked was fabulous, and Betty would look like a peahen next to her when they walked into the gym. Veronica was already wearing all the jewelry she needed, namely a pair of diamond studs in her ears that her father gave her for her birthday.

“It’s so cute,” Betty murmured. If anything, the dress made her decision about her own outfit easier.

The white jeans had to go. She would blend into the wallpaper. Betty rehung them and pulled out a short, black denim skirt with bold white topstitching. “Oh,” Veronica said, raising her eyebrows. “You’re wearing that?”

“With my Mary Janes,” Betty decided. She wanted shoes she could dance in without pinching her feet. Veronica relaxed slightly; Betty could have sworn she brightened once she saw the sensible, flat little shoes.

“Looks great!” she told her cheerfully. Betty beamed.

The clothes were locked up. Now came the makeup. Betty kept her makeup in a modest little pink vinyl bag. Veronica’s was a large case in the form of a folding easel with a light-up mirror. There were multiple fold-down shelves of eye shadows, glosses and blushers. Betty contented herself with a single coat of dark brown mascara to bring out her pale lashes and make them look slightly longer. Next came some shimmery, silver-blue eye shadow in a light enough layer to appease her mother. She finished her look with mauve lip gloss, a step up from her only other tube of shell pink. There.

“Crap. I have a big zit,” Betty moaned. She dove into her bag for her cover-up stick.

“Poor baby,” Ronnie repeated smugly. “I had an oxygen facial yesterday.”

“Lucky duck.”

“You should get one.”

I should win the frickin’ Lotto first. “Must be nice.”

“Boys don’t notice stuff like that, but they will notice a zit,” Ronnie pointed out.

“Brat!” Betty brandished her hairbrush, and Ronnie ducked. But her earlier joy over her outfit dwindled. But in the meantime, it was educational watching Ronnie apply her makeup. She wasn’t shy about the lipstick; she chose a MAC matte in bold red and lined her lips first in a slightly darker pencil. There it was: The Famous Lodge Pout. Her mother invented it, but Ronnie perfected it, owned it. Next came black eyeliner and mascara. It was overkill, but her dress almost demanded it. Veronica Lodge was no wallflower.

The eye shadow she chose was smoky, warm browns and charcoal grays. She applied it with a slightly heavy hand, but her parents weren’t on hand to say no. That was half the appeal of getting ready at Betty’s house. Aside from that, Betty’s mother was an excellent cook. Sleepovers usually involved Rice Krispie treats and homemade cocoa. Gaston was a master chef who Veronica’s father lured away from his own restaurant in Paris to come and work for him, but he didn’t believe in simple foods. For all of Veronica’s privileges that she enjoyed, Betty’s home was her favorite place to escape and to be herself.

Betty slid on a silver charm bracelet and preened in front of her full-length mirror. “Okay. I’m ready.” Butterflies swamped her stomach.

“Why’re you so twitchy?”

“I’m excited, and my hands are all sweaty. We’re going to the dance!” Betty chirped, grabbing Veronica’s hands and swinging her around the room. She hugged her best friend and bounced her up and down.

“Don’t mess up my hair!” Veronica snapped, but she giggled, too. “I can’t wait,” she admitted. “This is gonna be so much fun. I can’t wait to see Archie’s face when he sees my outfit.”

“Or mine,” Betty countered. Veronica shrugged as she checked her hair one more time.

Betty’s father raised his brow over the edge of the newspaper as they came downstairs.

“Hold up. Wardrobe check,” he reminded them. Hal stood up and perused them both. “What do you call that, young lady?”

“What?”

“That scrap of cloth that your legs are hanging out of. Where’s the rest of it?”

“It’s just a skirt, Daddy! It’s not that short!” The hem reached four inches above her knees and showed off just enough leg, in her mind. “Mom bought it for me.”

“After extreme amounts of begging,” her mother piped up from the kitchen. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Daddy…I don’t wanna go up and change, I like what I have on.” Her blue eyes beseeched him. Please don’t embarrass me in front of Veronica. He sighed.

“All right. Wear a decent jacket, then. Don’t catch a cold. Shouldn’t you at least put on some warm stockings or someth-“

“DAD!”

“Right. That’s a no on the stockings.” He turned to Veronica. “Ummm…” He made motions toward her dress. “That’s…wow. Does your mother know you’re wearing that?”

“Oh, Mr. Cooper,” Ronnie cajoled. “It’s just a little dress.”

“Emphasis on ‘little.’ Stay out of trouble, young lady.”

“What trouble?” she asked innocently.

“Betty might have some jeans you could borrow,” he suggested. Alice came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. Her eyes bugged when she saw Veronica’s outfit.

“Wow,” was all she came up with, echoing her husband’s sentiment. “Hope you don’t get a draft.”

“I’ll be fine,” she promised. Betty grabbed her denim jacket, quietly pleased that it matched her outfit pretty well without overkill. Veronica put on a smart, trim belted leather jacket and grabbed her purse. Her jacket didn’t have pockets; Betty had the feeling she would be holding Veronica’s purse for part of the night, and it rankled.

Hal dropped them off in the school courtyard with the usual warnings. “Call me if you want to come home early. Don’t wait out here if no one else is outside. Here’s some money. Got your tickets?”

“Yes, Daddy.” She leaned over and gave him an obligatory kiss, comforted by the familiar scratch of his stubble and the scent of his aftershave. He smiled sadly.

“I’m not ready for this. What happened to my little girl?” he mused.

“We’re growing up, Mr. Cooper,” Ronnie answered for her, looping her arm through Betty’s and dragging her away.

“Bye, Daddy!” He watched them dart off toward the entrance and heard the boom of music that leaked outside, having no clue how teenagers could stand that noise. He drove off, prepared to weather a night of fretting over whether his daughter’s upbringing would prevail over her best friend’s antics.

The girls stood in line, waiting their turn to hand in their tickets. Miss Haggly was at the table, looking slightly less matronly in jeans and a sweater set. She took the girls’ tickets and tore off the stubs, handing them back.

“That’s for the coat check room that we have set up inside,” she barked. “Save those so you can get your stuff back at the end of the night. Behave.”

“Aye, aye!” Veronica piped up. Miss Haggly snorted.

“What on earth do you have on? Better question, where’s the rest of it?” Veronica tsked.

“This is all of it!” Before Veronica could launch into a full snit, squealing voices from the doorway to the gym interrupted them. Midge, Nancy, Maria and Ethel swarmed over and pounced.

“Girl, look at you!” Nancy encouraged, grabbing the sleeve of Betty’s jacket. “Liking the hair.” Betty settled for wearing it down, but gathering the front back in a simple barrette and slightly curling her long bangs.

“Look at your dress!” Ethel exclaimed. Midge whistled.

“You’re blocking my table, girls, move it along! Don’t take any wooden nickels,” she chided them, pointing one long, bony finger. “And make sure those boys keep their hands to themselves. I’ll be making my rounds.” They hurried off, giggling and murmuring as they searched for the coat room.

It was time to prowl.

The boys had begun to assemble around the bleachers, most of them wearing the same clothes for a typical school day, making Betty envious. No hard decisions or extra ironing, no mirror checks to make sure their butts didn’t look fat, and no complicated choices of which shoes to wear. It wasn’t fair. They also looked mellow and relaxed. The music soared through the gym, louder than she expected, and it made her heart skip in a jittery rhythm.

What if the boys thought she couldn’t dance? What if Archie didn’t notice her outfit? What if Veronica was the only one he wanted to dance with? What if…

She tried to shake it off. She noticed that Ethel looked nervous, too, and Betty sidled up next to her. They leaned against the wall, staring around at the growing crowd.

“I’ll be glad when everyone gets here,” she muttered. “Then I won’t feel so…out in the open.”

“You look nice,” Betty countered. Ethel wore black jeans and a cropped red sweater, with Ecko sneakers on her feet that had dragons painted on them. She pulled her hair into two pert pigtails atop her head, emphasizing her long, narrow face and the shiny green eye shadow she’d applied. Betty wanted to suggest wiping some of it off, but she didn’t want to make her friend any more self-conscious. Ethel slouched, not helping her tall, gawky frame with the bad posture. She was already five-foot-seven and still growing.

“I want someone to ask me to dance this time,” Ethel complained. “I don’t know if Juggie’s even coming.”

“Oooooooooo,” Betty teased, elbowing her. Ethel blushed. “Someone’s got her eye on somebody, huh? Time for a little romance!”

“Quit it!” Ethel reached out to smack her, but Betty ducked, grinning. “Wish he’d show up, though.”

“I don’t know if there’s going to be any snacks,” Betty pointed out. “That’d make him buy a ticket.”

The gym filled up over the next ten minutes, and invisible battle lines were drawn, boys on one side, girls on the other. The plan of attack? Make the boys cross the gym. And if that didn’t work, make a move onto the dance floor without having to be the first ones out there. And if you were a guy, take the chance that the walk across the gym floor would seem interminably long, a slow, hand sweat-inducing torture that would suck if the girl said no.

Some of the boys made repeat trips to the soda table as a distraction; the Pepsi disappeared fast. Girls disappeared and reappeared intermittently to check their makeup in the bathroom and make “one last pitstop.”

Chuck found Nancy and clung to her like a burr. She leaned on him as they both swayed to the music from the sidelines, neither willing to be a spectacle if they wandered out onto the floor yet. Moose slowly meandered around the perimeter of the dance floor after ribbing from his friends. He rubbed his nape and tugged on Midge’s sleeve from behind, interrupting her from a shopping story with Ronnie. She turned and looked sheepish, then gave him a coy smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Uh…what’s goin’ on?”

“Just hangin’ out. I’ve been here for a while.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” He looked around, and his eyes drifted over his shoulder briefly. He caught sight of Reggie and Frankie mouthing the words “go for it, man!” and jeering at him, and a scowl beetled his heavy blond brows. But he turned back to Midge, who had just received the thumbs-up and a nod of approval from Betty and Ethel. Ask him, Betty mouthed. Midge tried unsuccessfully to ignore Betty’s imploring look.

For some reason, seeing Midge’s progress with the normally cocky jock made Betty…giddy. She felt a sense of anticipation that she could be next, if she positioned herself well enough.

“Music’s okay,” Moose said suddenly. “At least this DJ’s not lame.”

“Yeah. Last one was pretty lame,” she agreed. Her cheeks were hot and she crossed her arms, unsure of where to put her hands. The stance made her look vulnerable, and he tried not to peek at her breasts, their scant curves more visible beneath her heavy green sweater. Midge was smokin’ hot.

“Um…you gonna dance? Soon?”

“Yeah. Probably.”

“Cool.” They stared out onto the floor, pondering the next best plan of attack. “Um…you wanna?”

“Yeah,” she answered quickly. He suppressed a smile.

“Next song?” It bought them more time to see if anyone else would go out first.

“Sure.”

Score! Moose held back the urge to pump his fist in the air. Midge’s pulse raced. OhmyGod OhmyGod OhmyGod OhmyGod! She was going to do it. Actually do it. Midge was thrilled. She was terrified.

Veronica was finally the instigator. “I’m bored,” she complained. She grabbed Betty and Marie by the arms. “C’mon!” she nagged, dragging them out onto the floor. It was a fast song, to Betty’s relief, but she was still slightly disappointed that none of the other boys had budged from the bleachers.

Reggie was holding court, making broad motions of a jump shot. She wasn’t surprised that he was going out for basketball again. She was looking forward to it herself, both for the game itself, and for the chance to peek over at the boys’ side of the court over the divider during practice. Archie was rapt at first, just from listening, but Reggie’s next words were obviously derisive; he gave him an indignant shove that only made Reggie laugh.

He’s such a stuck-up jerk, Betty mused, picking on Archie like that. But her sympathy went unnoticed as she tried to throw herself into the song that beat down around them. Veronica was confident and the other girls migrated out onto the floor, copying her moves in one form or another. At least she would get to dance, Betty decided, but it would have been more fun with a boy. Ethel eventually joined them after a cup of Pepsi to get her courage up. Juggie still hadn’t shown up, and she wallowed in disappointment.

The crowd spawned tentative couples who drifted out onto the floor, finally starting to even the ratio of boys to girls who were actually dancing.

Archie showed up, pausing behind Veronica, much to Betty’s dismay. She tried to get his attention anyway. “Hi, Arch.” He gave her an easy smile.

“Hey, Bets. I didn’t know you were coming. Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool. I wondered when you were gonna show up.” Veronica turned around then, fixing Archie with a collected, dazzling smile, lacking the uncertainty of Betty’s.

“I wondered when you were going to dance with me,” she accused, pouting.

Shit. The pout. Betty fumed. It was already starting. Veronica, one; Betty, zip.

Her feet backed her away from them as they stood closer to each other, blatant male interest leaking through Archie’s posture, smile and gestures as he sized up Veronica in her skimpy outfit. Her own smile faltered. She did the only thing she knew how to do at that point.

She danced. Maria, Ethel and Nancy were glad of the company, even if Nancy had Chuck tied to her with an invisible rope. She feigned joy she didn’t feel and smiled, even laughed at some of Chuck’s “killer moves.” It helped. Somewhat.

Betty tried not to focus on Veronica at that point, knowing that if she turned around, she would see them dancing like a couple.

The next three songs yielded the same result. Betty wasn’t a wallflower, certainly, but her goof-proof look hadn’t hooked any fish yet. But if her vantage point from the dance floor offered any consolation, it helped her to watch more of what was going on around her.

Reggie had already danced with two different girls. Two dances each. They were relatively pretty and just as heavily made up as Veronica, but they hadn’t quite gotten the shoes right, or the hair right. Betty watched them with amusement. Each one of their faces lit up when Reggie showed up with his magnanimous smile and fashionable slouch, hands tucked in his pockets.

His technique reminded her so much of Veronica’s. He did that thing…that thing with his hair…ran his hand through the back of it in an almost…vulnerable gesture. Betty wrinkled her nose. What the heck for?

Yet it worked. They ate it up. Both girls took his hand and followed him out onto the floor looking like they had won the Miss Riverdale pageant at the county fair. To his credit, once he got out there, he could actually dance. A mean voice inside Betty wished he would suck at it, even look like Yo Gabba Gabba characters on acid – Foofa, if she had her choice – but much like everything else, he was good at it. Betty’s eyes followed him at the end of the fourth fast song. It was over, just like that. He excused himself with a coy grin, and each girl walked off disappointed, but then hurried off to find their respective girlfriends and head to the bleachers or the rest room to shoot the shit and give the scoop.

Her bubble was broken on the next number, which was a slow song. Betty walked off the floor automatically, but she shot a brief glance over her shoulder.

Sure enough, Ronnie was snugged up against Archie, dancing too close, giving him the soulful eyes she’d been practicing in the mirror since both girls were eleven. His hands were on her waist, hungry for the feel of her hips. Betty wished they were her hips.

She was about to join Ethel on the bleachers when a finger briskly tapped her shoulder. She spun around and found Dilton staring at her through his bifocals. His posture was awkwardly erect, making the most of his slight height. In all likelihood, Dilton wasn’t finished growing, but in the meantime, most girls in their class towered over his five-feet-two inches.

“Betty, would, uh, you like to…y’know…” His voice trailed off. She took immediate pity on him.

“Yeah. C’mon.” She took his hand and allowed him to lead her onto the floor, even though the urge to gallop back out there, dragging him along was strong. I don’t have to sit on the bleachers! He wasn’t Archie, but her night incrementally improved. The height difference between them no doubt appeared comical, but she didn’t mind. Dilton had taken pains with his appearance, wearing one of his almost trademark sweater vests, this one a camel beige that brought out his dark brown eyes. He wore it over a white, short-sleeve polo and plain khakis. He wore brown loafers instead of sneakers, and they were impeccably neat. Church shoes, she guessed, footwear that probably didn’t see the light of day more often than once a week.

He’d worked a little gel into his unruly black curls, making them slightly spiky. The corner of her mouth twitched.

“Are you having a good time, Dil?” she nearly shouted into his ear. He leaned in closer and murmured up into hers.

“It’s okay. It’s my first.”

“You’ve never been to a dance?” She realized she had never seen him at any the year before, somewhat belatedly, and hated herself for the question. He shrugged, but she could tell he was bashful.

“Uh-uh. I always had something else to do.”

“You look nice.”

“So do you. You’re a good dancer. Um…I saw you out here,” he offered. She chuckled. As Betty spoke, her hands gesticulated over his shoulders while his remained respectfully at her waist.

“I just wanted to dance with somebody,” she admitted.

“Yeah,” he agreed, pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. Dilton’s breath smelled like a Listerine mint strip, a saving grace, and she wondered if her own smelled okay. He wasn’t leaning away from her, at any rate…

What? Her eyes caught an odd movement to her left, just off the floor. She inadvertently turned them more quickly in their circle, almost throwing off Dilton’s steps. He arched one brow but said nothing.

Reggie. Jerk. Asshat. He was mimicking her. He was laughing and holding out his arms straight as a board, over the shoulders of an imaginary, shorter partner. Frankie and Alex Cabot laughed with him, giving her smirks that made her want to smack them. He looked like Frankenstein’s monster, throwing in plodding footsteps. She heard his low, groaning sounds over the music as he pretended to be deranged. As far as Betty was concerned, he was.

So there you had it. Reggie Mantle singlehandedly ruined her first-ever slow dance, even if it was just with Dilton.

To make it worse, she wasn’t the only person who noticed. “Betty?”

“Yes?” she replied, startled by Dilton’s thoughtful tone.

“Ignore him. He’s an asshole.”

“DILTON!” Her smile was shocked. Dilton didn’t swear. He had a vocabulary that read like Roget’s Thesaurus, so she wasn’t expecting the profanity. Dilton looked like he wanted to smile at her reaction.

“Are you embarrassed?” he asked bluntly.

“NO! No…” her voice trailed off. “Not about you. I mean, you’re really cool…I just can’t stand Reggie.”

“You aren’t the only one, you know.”

“Good.” They finished the dance in a closer, tighter ring and stayed that way through the next song. Betty didn’t make an attempt to break away, and when she peered down into Dilton’s face, he shrugged and smiled. She smiled back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Reggie on the dance floor, this time with a new girl. It figured. He could try to ruin her dance while he had as many as he wanted, with as many partners? No way. That wouldn’t fly. When he whispered something into his partner’s ear, she turned in Betty’s direction, and Betty shot her a warning glare over Dilton’s ear. The girl’s smile dropped and she looked away. Reggie caught the tail-end of her venomous look.

Oooh, I’m scared, he mouthed. He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

“His face might stay that way if we slap his back the next time he does that,” Dilton said hopefully. He saw Reggie’s reflection behind him when he looked just far enough in the right direction into his lenses.

“It would be an improvement.”

She was disappointed when Dilton pulled away from her as the song blended into a fast number. “Aw,” she protested.

“I can’t fast-dance,” he explained, pushing up his glasses again. “Thanks, Bets.”

“See ya.” She waved as he left, and Betty headed back toward the bleachers to see if she could find her friends. She rounded up Ethel, who looked slightly envious.

“He asked you to dance?”

“Yup. He was decent. Nice, too.”

“Aw, man!” Ethel threw up her hands. “I should’ve just stayed home.”

“Nope. Get out there and dance. C’mon!” Betty strong-armed her out there, tearing giggles from her friend as they headed into the thick of the crowd. Chuck and Nancy found them, completing their group, and Betty felt immeasurably better.

Until Veronica showed up, looking too gleeful or Betty’s taste. Way too gleeful. “Betty!” she piped up, nabbing her by the arm. “C’mon! Come to the girl’s room with me!”

“Sheesh,” she muttered under her breath, but she mouthed “I’ll be back” to Ethel contritely. Ethel shrugged, but she decided to stay out on the floor. Betty nearly stumbled over her Mary Janes as she followed her friend. They wove through the kids lingering by the gym door, wallflowers like Betty had feared she would be. Veronica tugged her inside the bathroom and in front of the mirror, automatically checking her hair and replenishing her lipstick.

“Oh, my God, where were you?” she accused smugly. “I looked for you a while ago!”

“I was dancing.” Not that it mattered to you, Miss I’m Hogging Archie to Myself.

“With who?”

“Dilton.”

“Pffft…WHY?” Ronnie stared at her like she’d grown another head.

“He asked me. He’s nice, anyway. Why not?”

“I know, but he’s just…a nerd. A short nerd,” she corrected herself as she fluffed her hair. Betty absently tucked a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear, not to be outprimped.

“Ron, don’t be mean.”

“He is short.”

“That’s no big deal. Midge is short, but she was dancing with Moose.” Ronnie’s eyes grew wide; she enjoyed having a new, worthy target.

“OhmyGOD, I KNOW! They looked like the Odd Couple!” Betty snickered this time. “She likes him, too.”

“I didn’t know that. Huh.” Betty shrugged.

“I don’t know why. He’s a troglodyte.”

“That’s a big word.”

“Look it up. Moose’s picture will be next to it in the dictionary.” Betty sighed.

“So what’s up?”

“I danced with him!” Ronnie squealed, grabbing Betty’s hand and squeezing it with manic joy. “Four times!”

“Wow.” Jealousy ate at Betty. “Where is he now?”

“Getting me a soda,” Ronnie shrugged. “I’m going to meet him in a minute.” Betty had enough at that point.

“I’m gonna head out in a minute.” She headed into the last stall in the row and shut the door behind herself. If Veronica was put out by her friend’s dismissal, she didn’t show it. Betty heard her closing her lipstick tube with a low click.

“See ya.”

“Yeah. Bye.” Betty listened to her retreating steps in frustration. Great. Just great. She leaned against the stall wall and repeatedly rapped her forehead against the cool metal. Crap.

So that was that. Archie liked Ronnie. Betty got the hint. She decided a pit stop actually was in order, washed her hands with the clinical-smelling liquid soap and dried her hands on her skirt when she noticed the towels hadn’t been refilled. It didn’t matter if they were clammy; if there was another slow song, she’d end up in the bleachers, anyway…

She headed back into the gym, giving her teachers a halfhearted wave. They watched her fondly.

“There goes a good egg,” Miss Haggly pointed out. Superintendent Haskins nodded in agreement.

“Great citizenship. Nice kid. Good school spirit.”

“At least she dresses her age,” piped up one of the other teachers as she sipped a diet soda. “Some of these girls…sheesh. Don’t their mothers check how they look before they walk out the door?” They all shook their heads. “And the MAKEUP!”

“Don’t get me started,” Miss Haggly warned. “I could go on all night about that nonsense. When I was that age, a light coat of lipstick was as far as it went. Even wearing colored nail polish and nude hose was a big deal.” The rest of the adults in the lobby chimed in with their own memories, keeping themselves entertained while a select few of them chaperoned the crowd inside.

Sure enough, when Betty returned, there was Veronica, nursing her soda, hardly drinking it while Archie hovered by her elbow. His hands were in his pockets, as though he didn’t know what to do with him. He watched Veronica chattering with three other girls, rapt at first, but she saw his eyes flit around once in a while, like he was looking for someone. Betty sighed and headed to the bottom row of the bleachers. Reggie was making the rounds again, talking to pairs and even little clutches of girls, showing off for all he was worth.

He looked handsome. That was no stretch. He even took a page out of Veronica’s book and wore dark red, a long, button-down skater shirt and black jeans. His sneakers looked new; Betty knew he owned several pairs. He ditched the part in his hair and wore the front of it spiked slightly above his hairline. Reggie had a classic profile with a nose that was straight instead of pert or pug. There wasn’t a pimple in sight, and he was one of the only guys in their class who already shaved.

She was so deep in her contemplation of how a jerk could look that good that she jumped out of her skin, startled by a familiar male voice hovering over her. She looked up in surprise at Archie, who was grinning at her.

“Scared ya, huh?”

“Geez…yeah,” she accused. She peered around him and saw that Veronica was still talking a mile a minute, not having noticed that a member of her audience had disappeared. YES! YES! YES! Betty attempted to look nonchalant as Archie sat beside her, dangling his hands between his knees. He smelled yummy, like Axe and Pepsi.

“Why’re you so jumpy?”

“I’m not!”

“Are too. Why’re you all the way over here?”

“Where am I supposed to be?”

“Out there,” he said, nodding out to the floor.

“It’s a slow song.”

“So? You danced with Dilt.”

“He wasn’t into it. I didn’t want to keep him.”

“You looked like you were having fun.”

“I was.”

“Do you…y’know, ‘like him,’ like him?”

“NO! Arch! No. Not like that. He’s just nice. He’s cool when you talk to him.”

“I know,” he shrugged. “I didn’t say he wasn’t, Bets. Sheesh!” He elbowed her; Betty giggled and flushed to the roots of her hair. Her hands felt clammy all over again, and this time there was no help for it. Archie was cute. His blue eyes smiled before the rest of his face did, and she liked the careless flop of his red hair, his licks of bangs hanging long enough for him to have to scrape them back periodically from his eyes in a gesture she squealed over. Privately. She counted his freckles and almost didn’t hear his next words.

“Dance?”

“Huh?”

“Wanna?” He jerked his head toward the floor expectantly.

“Oh.” Her smile started as a small twitch of her lips, then spread itself so wide she thought her face would crack in half. “Yeah. Sure.”

“C’mon,” he grinned, and he tugged her by the hand from her seat, making her feel giddy and light as a feather. He asked me! ME! She followed him eagerly, enjoying the occasional glances of the girls around them, even those of a few of his friends. He took her out to the center of the floor, to her delight. No easy escape routes; she had him to herself.

“Don’t stand so far away. Do I stink?” he joked, tugging her against him until their stomachs touched. Heat flared in every cell of her body at the contact, at the soft grip of his hands at her waist that occasionally tightened when he liked something she said. Betty’s heart pounded in her ears, drowning out most of the music, but her feet caught enough of the slow sway of notes to carry her along with him in almost perfect sync. Where he led, she followed. Over hot coals, to the ends of the earth… and for now, around the dance floor that wasn’t as crowded once it thinned down to couples only.

She caught sight of Ethel chatting with Lucky, and her tall friend’s mouth dropped open in surprise. She shot her a thumbs up. Betty grinned over Archie’s shoulder.

“You’re good at this,” Archie murmured, lips grazing her shoulder. She shivered.

“So’re you.”

“Wanna do it again?” Did he even have to ask??

“Fine. Sure.” YES. His fingers twined themselves through her belt loops, and her mind raced, trying to outrun her heart’s frantic beat. His cheek brushed hers, and his skin felt hot. She leaned back and looked up into his face, smiled awkwardly, then leaned back in to rest her chin against his shoulder. Evidently he approved; his palm flattened against the curve of her lower back, fingers idly toying with the pleat of her blouse.

A second slow song. Four more minutes of sheer heaven. Her eyes drooped shut in pleasure at the feel of his fingers tracing lazy circles at her back, then the way his hands drifted down to rest on her hips. To grip them. Betty was euphoric.

“You look nice, Bets.”

“Thanks.” OhmyGodhesaidIlooknice! “You, too.”

“Smell good, too.” He didn’t feel the crack of her smile against his shoulder.

“You, too.”

She was stunned out of her reverie by a sharp flick of someone’s fingernails against her wrist, tapping her bracelet. She caught sight of Veronica’s eyes boring holes into hers from over Reggie’s shoulder, even though she smiled. Oops.

She was going to catch hell. Majorly. Then her eyes did a double take. Veronica was dancing with Reggie? Reggie, who’d made the rounds of the run of the gym?

And Reggie was milking the opportunity, smug that he was dancing with the hottest girl in the eighth grade. They made a smart couple, both with dark good looks, and once again, Betty was almost envious. Almost.

But this was Reggie. If Ronnie would only push Archie a few more inches in Betty’s direction, she could have Reggie with Betty’s blessing. Both brunets danced a couple of paces faster than their friends, so instead of Ronnie’s look of promised vengeance, she met Reggie’s smirk.

It was full of devilment. He made a tsk’ing look that jeered Is that the best you could do, Cooper? Betty sighed, then bowed her face back into Archie’s collar.

“What’s up, Bets?”

“Nothing,” she assured him. “Everything’s fine.”

“’Kay.” He was oblivious, which was fine with her. And her body was reacting…strangely…to his proximity. Her nipples tightened up into nervous little knots, and heat pooled between her legs at the feel of an unnamed bump that she felt pressed against her belly through his rough denims.

Behind them, Veronica and Reggie lost their interest in the dance; Veronica, because she was burning with jealousy, and Reggie, because Ronnie was ignoring him. He didn’t even have the satisfaction of getting a rise out of good ol’ Betty, since she was also ignoring him.

Ron decided to shift the momentum. “Okay, switch!” she chirped, pulling away from Reggie and tapping Archie on the shoulder.

“Huh?”

“C’mon, stranger, you totally deserted me,” she cooed, pouting.

The Pout. Betty longed to kill her. Archie peered down at Betty apologetically and shrugged.

“I was kinda dancing with her first,” he pointed out. He let her go. Let her GO. Betty panicked as Veronica led him a few feet away and resumed Betty’s place in his arms. It was too much. She turned on her heel and began to hurry away.

A firm hand caught her by the elbow. She whirled around to tell off the source.

Reggie. Looking less smug. He bit his lip.

“C’mere.”

“No,” she protested. She was embarrassed and just wanted to sulk, alone.

“C’mon,” he cajoled. “Bets…don’t leave me hangin’.” He pulled her back inches at a time, one hand scrabbling up her arm after another like he was winning at tug of war. And maybe was letting him, because suddenly his hands were around her waist and her feet followed where he led. One thought beat like a tattoo in her head: What the heck just happened?

Her grip on his shoulders was awkward. She tried not to stare after Archie and Ron, so she focused on a spot just over his shoulder to avoid having to look at his smirk.

Except that his face was sober, something she discovered when he spoke, lips fanning warm breath over her ear. “Don’t act so thrilled about it, Bets.”

“Fine. I won’t.” Her voice was indignant, and she felt his fingers curl momentarily against her lower back, as though he was making up his mind, rethinking his earlier decision to take her for a spin around the floor. But her hair was soft and tickled his chin, since he was taller than Betty by about three inches.

Betty’s cheeks burned. Reggie felt…solid. Lean, and his skinny, angular frame that she remembered as too little to fill out his baggy swim shorts in summers past was meatier now, contoured with burgeoning muscle.

She felt him tense before he spoke. “Don’t make me walk back out of here by myself.”

“Please. Like you don’t deserve it. Jerk.”

“What? What’s the big deal? You don’t want to leave me stranded out here,” he said, “do you?”

“Why? You worried the other girls will see?”

“Yeah,” he admitted bluntly. She pulled back to glare at him.

“Nice. That’s just…nice, Reg.” She tsked in disgust, not caring if it showed on her face that he repulsed her.

“Looking for Dilt?”

“No.” She actually did see him, though, talking to Big Ethel, sitting next to her on the third row of bleachers. For some reason, that pleased her.

“Don’t wanna dance with Lover Boy again?”

“Shut up,” she snapped, but she didn’t let go of him, content just to let the music drown out their conversation to anyone’s ears but theirs. “What’s up with you? Why…why do you always jump on my case?? On EVERYONE’S case, for that matter.”

“You’re an easy target,” he shrugged, and he smirked again at the tiny lines between her blonde brows that indicated she was pissed at him again. Game. Set. Match.

“I’d like to say this has been fun…”

“Go ahead.”

“I said I’d like to. I didn’t say I would.” He surprised her by snickering.

“Rowr,” he growled under his breath. His dark eyes danced and she fumed. He wasn’t supposed to laugh…was he? The closing bars of the song seemed to drag on, and she couldn’t wait to break away, not caring if he wanted another dance. Because he wouldn’t, obviously…

…would he? Prickles crept over her back, all the way up to her scalp.

“At least you’re not wasting your time if you hang out with Dilly,” Reggie muttered.

“What are you talking about?”

“Arch likes Ron.”

“He told you that?” She gave him her full attention now, and she felt her face freeze as she looked up at him. Reggie sighed.

“Yeah. Get a clue, Bets.”

Tears prodded the back of her eyes, making them sting. Reggie realized belatedly that he went too far. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He heard her low gasp and felt her pull away from him, frantic now to get away from him.

“Leggo,” she snapped, twisting free and darting off through the maze of couples. Leaving him stranded. Behind her, he watched her, frustrated, and Reggie threw up his hands. Betty headed out of his line of vision, disappearing out the exit. He meandered off the floor, deciding it wasn’t worth it to try to cut in on Arch, who was enjoying himself too much for Reggie’s comfort. Ronnie was making goo-goo eyes at him, and Reggie wanted to hurl.

Betty couldn’t just wait til the end of the song. She couldn’t save him his pride…

But all he could think of were her wet eyes and the way her chin crumpled as she let go of him, taking away her light fragrance and addictive heat. Reggie decided he needed a soda. He settled for 7-Up, since they were out of Pepsi.

Betty made it to the bathroom before the sobbing started, the first low cry tearing itself out of her throat as she reached the sink. She splashed cold water on her face, crying the whole time.

“What. Was that?” Nancy demanded from the doorway, looking out of breath. She had her arms folded beneath her breasts, and Ethel was in tow behind her. Her pretty dark face demanded answers. Betty caved, throwing up her hand in defeat.

“He… likes Ron…he told R-Reggie he likes… her,” she sniffled pitifully.

“No. Not that. I knew that part already, ‘cuz Chuck-Man’s got a big ol’ mouth. I’m talkin’ about, what’re you doin’ up there, dancing with Mr. Full of Himself Mantle?”

“He made me,” she protested.

“Your feet weren’t broken. Obviously. Ya coulda just walked away, easy as you please.”

“He didn’t want me to leave him hanging.”

“Leave him hanging from a cliff next time, see if he acts so uppity then,” Nancy snapped as she joined her by the sink. Ethel was already checking the dispenser for towels. She shrugged to find it empty, instead retrieving handfuls of toilet paper.

“Here,” she encouraged. Betty took it gratefully and blotted her face, which was blotchy and red. Nancy was frustrated on Betty’s behalf, and glad to the skies and God Almighty above that Chuck didn’t play that shit. He was her man, he’d keep on being her man til he gave her any kinda mess to make her sick of ‘im. She tried to help Betty restore order to her hair, using a small comb that Ethel fished out of her pocket.

Veronica, her best friend, was nowhere in sight. No surprise.

“I don’t want to look like I was crying,” Betty informed them as Nancy redid her ponytail, even though her bangs were already frizzing from the water.

“Too late, kiddo,” Ethel sympathized, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. Betty leaned into it, and Nancy gave her a hug of her own.

“I don’t know why ya put up with that woman,” Nancy sighed, rocking her and rubbing her back.

“She’s my best friend.”

“When she wants to be, you mean.”

“Don’t. I’ve got to meet Daddy outside. Help me.” Ethel helped her continued to blot her face, and she wiped off the hint of mascara that smudged itself beneath her eyes. A few minutes later, she decided she passed muster, except for her eyes, but at least the hectic red flush in her cheeks went away.

“I’ve got to find her soon,” Betty complained.

“Girl, WHY?”

“She’s sleeping over.” Nancy slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Don’t make me have to say something, now.”

“Good luck,” Ethel added sagely. “Call me in the morning once she’s gone. Pizza?”

“Heck, yeah,” Nancy agreed. “I want in on that.” The wheels were already turning in her head for a Boys Suck day at the Riverdale Galleria.

They heard the DJ call the last song of the night. All three girls were content to sit that one out; Nancy let Chuck hang out with Frankie and Moose, fine with letting him bullshit for a while. She saw him making shooting motions in the air and she sighed. Basketball, again. That was all he was gonna talk about for two months.

The teachers began to circulate around the room, nagging couples apart and shooing them toward the coat room. The lights in the gym slowly came on, and everyone looked more stark, fatigue evident in their flushed faces and limp walks. Several girls’ bangs were plastered to their foreheads, making Betty grateful she’d worn her hair back and quit dancing while she was ahead.

She retrieved her jacket with her ticket Ethel and Nancy waited with her outside, Chuck in tow. Nancy hugged herself against the chill.

“Brrr.”

“I miss summer,” Betty complained.

“Can’t come fast enough. I hate being cold,” Ethel agreed, but on the other hand, she was grateful. During the cold, she could stick to wearing her jeans and sweaters instead of letting her knobby knees hang out of shorts. There was strength in layers. A low, male voice called out to them from the dark, and the streetlamp glinted off a pair of thick bifocals.

“Bye, Ethel.”

“Bye, Dilly!” she cried, giving him a warm smile. His look was sheepish as he ducked into the passenger seat of his mom’s minivan.

“He’s nice, isn’t he?” Betty mentioned casually.

“Sure he is!” Ethel chirped, beaming. She turned to her friends, face scrunching in confusion. “What?” Betty and Nancy were grinning.

“Chat him up, girl!” Nancy elbowed her, and Ethel gave her a swat.

“Pfft…no. I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” Betty pointed out. “He already broke the ice.”

“I’ll just fall in,” Ethel grumbled. “Look, Bets, your dad’s here.”

“I need to have him wait for Ron.”

“Go in and get her. Better yet, I will,” Ethel volunteered, scurrying back inside, rubbing her arms the whole way over her hoodie.

Moments later, Veronica emerged from the lobby, bundled into her leather jacket and letting her purse dangle from her wrist, hands shoved into her pockets. Betty almost waved her over, and her dad honked impatiently from the courtyard, but she froze, unable to stop watching the inevitable.

Archie. Letting Ronnie hand him a slip of paper that looked like a napkin, which he folded and crammed into his pocket. He teased her, grabbing her wrist and prizing her hand from her pocket. He toyed with her fingers, letting her flirt with him. They linked pinkies, making Betty sick.

Pinkies. Well, that just said everything, didn’t it? Reluctantly he let Ronnie go, and she walked dreamily into the courtyard.

Betty cupped her hand around her mouth. “RON! Let’s GO!”

“You could go get her,” her father pointed out as Betty let herself into the back seat.

“She’s coming,” she shrugged.

“Have fun?”

“I guess.”

“You don’t have to go to anymore, if you didn’t,” he offered.

“Daddy,” she sighed. “I didn’t say that.”

“Just a suggestion. No point in wasting money on a ticket if you don’t have fun. Did you at least dance?”

“Yeah.”

“Then that’s fine. At least you danced,” he answered simply, satisfied. Betty wanted to sink into the upholstery until she disappeared. Hal turned on the car heater to make the interior more comfortable, noticing that his daughter looked chilled.

Ron hurried up and opened up Betty’s side of the car. “Move over!” she chided playfully, cheeks flushed and happy. Betty accommodated her sourly and stared out her window, leaning toward the door as Veronica clapped hers shut.

“Have fun, kiddo?”

“The best! It was the best! Right, Bets?”

“Sure,” Betty mumbled into her wrist.

That told her father everything he needed to know.
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Pigtails