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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Summary: Cheerleading tryouts. For some, a walk in the park; for others, a torture worse than bamboo shoots under the fingernails…

Author’s Note: Time to cringe!

C’mon, c’mon, two more minutes, c’mon, just two more minutes… Betty’s stomach was doing flip-flops…no, back handsprings, she corrected herself. She had to get in the zone.

Tryouts. The huge posters scrawled in huge, blue and gold block letters beckoned to Betty and every other freshman, sophomore and junior girl with guilty, hidden stashes of Sweet Valley High books in the backs of their closets, or girls who’d spent years in dance school and gymnastics camps every summer. This was it. This was the one chance at the perfect yearbook photo, the ringside seats or front row of bleachers at every game, both seasons. Homecoming queen? She who holds the pom-poms, wears the crown; it was an unspoken rule. If you wanted to be noticed, you cheered. Sure, any other extracurricular was fine if you wanted to get involved. Betty already scribbled her name on the signup list for the school newspaper, right below Dilton’s. A spot on the girls’ volleyball or basketball teams was hers for the taking once tryouts began, but cheering…

She had all of the cheers memorized from junior high games, stamping out the rhythms with her feet in the bleachers next to Ethel and Midge. Veronica begged off, claiming it got in the way of her figure skating lessons and her sessions with her private tennis coach, but she added insult to injury, citing “What’s the big deal? It’s not the same as high school, Betty. *tchhh* It’s so…lame.” The wind died from Betty’s sails, and she wavered, finally deciding to walk home, head hanging down, convincing herself that it was a stupid idea, anyway…

Watching the girls the school picked and posted on the list outside of her history class made her slightly ill. Some of them were the girls she wasn’t particularly fond of, but a handful were decent enough, who had bigger talent than egos. Betty congratulated Midge and was surprised and impressed when Nancy breezed over to give her the news.

“When you’re hot, you’re hot!” she crowed, belting out one of Betty’s favorite cheers and giving her a hip-bump. Betty giggled. “Giiirrrlll, where WERE you? You should’ve tried out!”

“I didn’t wanna waste my time,” she reasoned. “I don’t know.”

“Pffffttt…if they could take Veronica, then why not you?” Nancy accused. Betty’s head jerked up and her eyes widened, and she felt her jaw drop open. “What? You didn’t know Miss Thang tried out?”

“She…shit. No.” Confusion bubbled in her stomach and her pulse sped up, just before she broke out in hot prickles. “She never said anything. Shit. Shit, shit, shit…”

“What’s the matter, then?” Nancy shrugged.

“It’s just…I wanted to try out!” Betty hissed indignantly. Nancy’s right brow lowered and her mouth twisted into her signature pout. She rolled her eyes and threw up her hand.

“Then you SHOULD have, girl. Damn…you should’ve talked to me, I would have gone with you! Even Ethel hung out with me, we just chilled out until it was our turn.” As though she heard her name, Ethel materialized by Betty’s elbow.

“Hey,” she greeted cheerfully, then let her smile falter as she saw Betty’s scowl. “Whatsamatter?”

“Ron. She’s just so…Oooooooo! She told me she wasn’t trying out.”

“She was one of the first girls there,” Ethel muttered. “Practically shoved the rest of us out of the way. She was actually pretty good. Wish I could do gymnastics,” she sighed. “I know all the cheers backwards, forward, left, right, up and down, but do I get in?”

“Try again next year,” Nancy mused. “Shoot…you too, Bets. We can be homegirls and tear it up in our little sweaters, shakin’ the pom-poms…” She mimed exactly that, then broke into a sexy dance, chest thrown out. “You ug-lay, what-WHAT, you UG-lay!” Betty laughed despite herself.

It took an act of congress not to take Ron to task for keeping mum about her plans. She knew it was probably bad form not to congratulate her more; in fact, Ronnie was slightly miffed that Betty wasn’t more effusive and pretty much ignored her as she gushed on about making it onto the squad. The next two months of Fridays were hell, watching Veronica sidle up to Archie by the bench whenever she could sneak away from the other girls. Betty felt like she drank sour milk. That should have been her in the snug blue sweater and short pleated skirt.

So that was that. Betty had a plan of attack.

Her musings were interrupted by the drone of Miss Grundy’s voice suddenly changing pitch.

“I expect you all to have read the next five chapters of Gatsby by Thursday,” she informed the class. “No excuses. There will be essay questions on the test; I’ll know if you only skimmed it, and I won’t tolerate Cliff Notes.” There were a few awww’s that were suddenly cut short by the blare of the final bell.

“Yes!” Betty hissed as she hurried to her feet. She caught up to Maria as the students began shuffling and filing out the door. Maria elbowed her and grinned.

“I’m so psyched, Betty!”

“Man, I know. I can’t wait, Ican’twait!” The happy fizz of anticipation was back and she had goosebumps. Maria companionably linked arms with her as they waded through the crowd toward the field house. Then she chuckled as she spied Midge and looped an arm through hers, dragging her halfway backward away from Moose as she held court with him.

“Andale, chica! C’MON! VENGA!”

“ACK! Okay, okay! Sheesh…” Moose smirked, then darted after them long enough to drag her back for a quick smooch.

“Ew…get a room,” Maria said, wrinkling her nose. “That’s enough, that’s enough, boyfriend, go-go-go.” She shooed him away and they continued their jaunt. Slowly the foot traffic changed in the corridor as more girls broke away from their lockers and started heading in the same direction, like salmon swimming upstream. Betty’s stomach knotted up even further as she noticed several girls from her gym class and previous dance classes joining the tide. The chatter and giggling became deafening as they entered the gym and began to fill the bleachers and set down their books.

Miss Phlips and Miss Grundy soon entered the room with clipboards and printed, stapled sheets.

“Wow, big turnout this year,” Miss Phlips pointed out. “Hey, ladies.” She received a few return greetings and chuckled. They’d have their hands full.

“Okay, ladies, here’s the drill,” Miss Grundy barked, “we’re heading outside. We’re going to use the small field because we’ve been ousted by the soccer team.” She heard several tsks of disgust and boos and smirked. “C’mon, now, it’s nice outside, let’s get some fresh air. But first, I’m going to hand out these cheers. Get to know them. Eat them, breathe them, sleep them. We’ll want you to have all of them memorized and three of them rehearsed for Friday.” She began passing them out quickly, wanting to avoid the stampede if she told them to come up and get them. They were snatched out of her hand as quickly as she could select each stack. Ethel darted into the gym, slightly out of breath, and she nervously joined Betty up front.

Several minutes later, just as the lacrosse team drifted inside and Coach Kleats began eyeballing the bleachers, Veronica sauntered inside.

“Where are we going?”

“You almost missed out. We’re headed to the field,” Miss Grundy pointed out. “Try to be early every day, it helps us get a head count.” Veronica took a cheer sheet and looked contrite.

“Sorry, Coach,” she offered. Miss Grundy coordinated the cheerleading squad as their advisor every year, even though she wasn’t the choreographer. She mentally rolled her eyes at Veronica’s familiarity. The girl sure was confident…

Just as they began to exit the gym, Cheryl arrived, strolling in just as indolently. She noticed the other girls holding onto their sheets. “Where can I get mine?” she demanded. Miss Phlips huffed and handed her the final copy.

“You’re lucky; if I’d have run out, you would have had to share. We’re at the field.”

“Crap,” Cheryl hissed under her breath as she turned away. She didn’t want her new mule heels to sink into the grass.

“Language,” Miss Phlips reminded her anyway.

“Sorry…can I run get my sneakers?”

“Hurry.” She held back from saying that she should have had them on in the first place. Cheryl wasn’t dressed for tryouts in her ridiculously short skirt and top with its camisole straps, anyway, both of which pushed the limits of the school dress code. Cheryl ignored her and sauntered slowly to the girls’ locker room, making Miss Phlips sigh raggedly in her wake.

“Acts like she owns the place,” Miss Grundy muttered by her shoulder. Miss Phlips peered up at her and grimaced.

“So it’s not just me. We’ve always got to have one, every year…”

“Why can’t they all be like those three?” Miss Grundy nodded to Betty, Nancy and Ethel as they sat chatting and scribbling in notebooks or skimming chapters from novels.

“The Blossoms of the world are there to keep us on our toes and from living too long.” Both teachers returned to the chore at hand and began rounding up the girls into groups. The next half hour found them all memorizing the cheers and rehearsing them, sometimes to amusing effect.

Most of the girls didn’t notice that they were being watched from afar. Gradually the soccer team drifted out from the mouth of the field house a few at a time to watch the girls out on the field.

“Damn,” Harvey muttered appreciatively. “It’s like a candy shop over there.”

“Best week of the year, man,” Chuck agreed, punching him in agreement.

“You’ve got a girlfriend!”

“Yeah, but I’ve got two eyes! Chuckie ain’t dead, man!” Chuck toyed with the ball, dribbling it off his knees and elbows while he stared out at the field and admired the view.

All of the boys were suited up in their cleats, and a few were already dribbling the ball back and forth. But the longer they waited for Coach Kleats, the more they dawdled and grew distracted by the girls out on the field.

“Damn, Sam looks hot,” Bingo gawked.

“Her dad’s an asshole,” Chuck reminded him.

“Who cares?” Samantha Smythe’s dad was legend in his neighborhood. He was like a grown-up version of “Chet” from Weird Science. “Be still, my heart!” he pronounced, clutching his chest. The slim strawberry blonde was practicing the steps for a simple-looking cheer, and Bingo pictured her in a short, pleated blue-and-gold skirt. The thought made him drool.

Some of the girls noticed they were being watched and began to show off. Several of them practiced jumps and back handsprings, and a handful of them exaggerated the choreography of the moves, throwing in a shake of the hips that wasn’t written down on paper.

Coach Kleats finally came out and blasted their ear drums with his shiny silver whistle.

“Eyes front!” he bellowed. “Ten laps. Then fifty pushups.”

“Awwww! COACH! Aw, mannnn!”

“Keep your eyes in your heads. If I see any lollygagging and if you guys keep staring out at that field of girls, you’ll get another ten laps. Hustle!” He clapped his hands and sent them grumbling around the gym track. They would take the rear field once their warm-ups were finished, but in the meantime, at least he could keep track of his team while they were under one roof. Coach sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t envy Grundy her job, wrangling that many females and pacifying that many egos. Teenage boys were hardheaded, but they were uncomplicated.

At the other end of the field house, the football teams drifted out into the corridor from the locker room. Floyd Clayton did a brief head count and started bellowing names from his clipboard.

“Andrews!”

“Here, Coach!”

“Blossom!”

“Here!”

“Chisolm!”

“Here!” Adam beamed like it was his birthday.

“Fogarty!”

“Here, Coach!” Fangs transferred back to Riverdale High from the vocational academy once he realized his only options to major in were mechanics, upholstery, or cosmetology.

“Mantle!”

“Right here, Coach,” Reggie piped up with a cavalier wave. He didn’t spare him more than two seconds before peering into the trophy case in the hall to check his reflection. Floyd sighed and rolled his eyes. He was gonna have his hands full with that boy, and he was only a freshman.

“Mason!”

“HERE!” Moose bellowed, stirring up a ripple of laughter from his teammates. It was a daily ritual.

“Power down. Save your outdoor voice for outdoors, son. Don’t make me warn you again.” Moose’s cheeks turned slightly pink and he rubbed his nape. Archie and Reggie traded smirks.

“Mayberry!”

“Ten-HUT!” Alan M. barked out of long habit. He was also in marching band, even though he was going to spend football season on the field, but he still had to go to Flutesnoot’s practices, too.

“Where’s Chuckie?” Archie murmured.

“His pop figured it was a conflict of interest to put him on the team he was coaching this year. When Kleats takes over for it, he’ll go out for varsity,” Reggie pointed out. “Sucks to be him.” In the meantime, Chuck was still keeping in shape for basketball season with soccer. It didn’t hurt that Nancy fed his ego, claiming that it gave him “big legs.”

The boys took the west field, directly next to the one the girls trying out occupied, much to the soccer team’s disgust. Several girls giggled at the sounds of cat calls and whistles.

“Damn,” Jason muttered. “It’s like Christmas came early.”

“Naw, man,” Archie argued with him, “you mean it’s my birthday.” Jason tsked.

“In your dreams!”

“You’re both wrong,” Reggie interjected. “They’re here to watch the Great One in action. Step aside.” He profiled for the girls who stared at him over the low, chain-link fence separating the fields. A few of them were fanning themselves.

“Fuckin’ townies, man,” Jason said under his breath, elbowing Cedric.

“Nah. None of ‘em are more full of shit than Mantle,” his best friend pointed out. Then he murmured to him, leaning in close, “but none of ‘em are worse than that guy.” He nodded to Archie and sneered.

“What is it with him? What the hell, man? My sister thinks he’s the shit. I don’t get it. Seriously. What does she see in that guy?” As if on cue, Cheryl broke free from the rest of the girls and approached the fence, waving to Archie, who was enjoying the attention.

“Hey, Handsome,” Cheryl drawled, leaning her crossed forearms over the top of the fence so they created a display shelf for her breasts. Jason wanted to roll his eyes at his twin’s antics, but he smothered just as strong an urge to punch Andrews’ lights out for staring down her cleavage.

“What’s goin’ on, Cher?”

“I came to show these amateurs how it’s done,” she informed him coyly, twirling a tendril of her long red hair around her fingertip. Her catlike green eyes gobbled him up, and she ignored the daggers that two sets of eyes were staring into her back.

“What. The hell.” Veronica looked like she drank sour milk.

“Uh-oh. Someone’s ‘bout ta get snatched bald-headed,” Nancy murmured to Betty. Betty only gave her half her attention as she silently fumed. “I know homegirl isn’t acting like she’s all that.”

“Who are you calling an amateur?” Veronica challenged, interloping on the conversation. Archie smiled at the sight of Veronica in her short shorts, looking cute, flushed and pissed off. Cheryl smirked.

“Take your pick. I see them for miles, sweet cheeks.” Ronnie looked too tempted to dig her fingers into Cheryl’s long red hair and yank for all she was worth. “But as for who…what was your name again?”

Cheryl narrowed her green eyes. “Read it and weep, bitch.” She did an about-face and strutted off, leaving Veronica to smirk after her. Cheryl then turned and blew Archie a kiss for Veronica’s benefit.

In a flash, she leapt back into a perfect triple handspring and landed in a one-hundred-eighty degree split.

Ethel whistled. “Wow. That does it for me. I’m out.”

“Show-off,” Veronica hissed under her breath. Betty watched gloomily as the boys watching Cheryl over the fence began hooting and whistling their approval. Cheryl lunged up and waved, giving silly little mock curtsies.

“Can I go home now?” Ethel murmured meekly.

“Uh-uh. I’m not in this alone. I need you to back me up! And it’d rock so hard if we both made it,” Betty informed her, jabbing Ethel’s arm.

“Um…ow.”

“Don’t be a wuss.”

“I’m not a wuss. My allergies are just acting up.”

“What are you allergic to?”

“Making an ass out of myself in public.” Before Ethel could elaborate, Miss Grundy blew her whistle again.

“Practice, girls! Ignore the peanut gallery over there,” she said, nodding sternly to Coach Kleats, who began rounding up his hopefuls and herding them away from the fence.

“Awwww!” Their chorus was almost pitiful. Betty was disappointed but secretly relieved that hopefully, she wouldn’t humiliate herself, either. She caught Archie’s eye briefly and waved, giving him a bashful smile. He grinned back before heading for the field. The warm fuzzy sensation that rose into her cheeks turned to mortification as the voice she despised rang out, “I thought this was a cheerleader tryout, not a bake-off, Betty Crocker!” Reggie leered, showing off and strutting around, pantomiming cheerleader moves that were as embarrassing to watch as if she were doing them herself. “Oooooo! Go, team!” he sang in an annoying falsetto.

She glared at him, but her lips twitched.

Want…to kill…mustn’t…laugh…

“Asshole,” Ethel hissed under her breath.

“Woo-hoo! Work it, Chicken Legs!” Nancy called back. “Need a little more junk in the trunk, baby!” An indignant half-scowl marred his face and stopped him in his tracks.

Betty’s laugh was strangled, and this time, welcome.

*

“Quit looking over there,” Nancy reminded her.

“Huh?”

“Hell-o?” Nancy nagged, shoving her. “Wake up, woman! Chop, chop! Let’s run through it again, so I don’t forget!”

“I’m lost,” Ethel admitted. “I don’t know half the letters.”

“You know how to do the YMCA,” Betty reminded her

“That’s only four.”

“Oh, get up!” Nancy snapped, yanking Ethel up from the ground by the arm with little effort, considering her skinny frame.

“Bully…”

“Cry me a river! Alright, here we go… BE! AGGRESSIVE! LET’S BE AGGRESSIVE!” Nancy barked the cheer out like a drill sergeant, spelling it out with sharp claps that could wake the dead. Several heads turned to listen and watch, surprise mingling with annoyance, but Nancy already had the moves down pat, too. “C’mon, girl, you’re turn,” she told Betty imperiously.

“I got it, I got it,” she muttered, assuming the stance. “BE! AGGRESSIVE! LET’S BE AGGRESSIVE! B-E! A-G-G! R-E-S-S-I-V-E! AGGRESSIVE! LET’S…BE…AGGRESSIVE!” She rapped out her claps and called out the cheer clearly but didn’t project as loudly, not wanting to draw as much attention. Sure enough, the other girls went back to ignoring their small group.

“Not bad,” Veronica sniffed. She had been practicing the moves by themselves, merely mouthing the words to all of the cheers, unconcerned with how her voice sounded to her friends. She provided next to nothing by way of constructive feedback or encouragement, even though she asked Betty a couple of times “Does it look better when I do this, or this?”

A few boys straggled near the sidelines of the field, shielding their eyes from the sun with their hands, peeking through the fence, making Betty and Ethel self-conscious.

“Cheryl’s gonna make it,” Jason decided as he watched them.

“Pfft…big deal,” Reggie told him. “Tell us something we don’t know.”

“Dad spent a grip sending her to cheerleading camp. I was just glad she was out of the house for two months,” Jason bragged.

“Whatever. Ron’ll get on the squad first. You watch. Her name’ll be first on the list.”

“Bullshit. Ron’s good, but she’s not that good.”

“The heck she’s not,” Archie argued as Kleats blasted his whistle for them to fall into line for up-downs. “She was on it at Riverdale Junior. She was awesome.”

“She sure thinks she is,” Jason scoffed.

“She is,” Chuck agreed. “Nancy’s gonna take ‘em both to school, anyway, but say whatcha want!” They broke into a hard run in place, then dropped to the ground each time the whistle blasted. After ten, they spoke in broken monosyllables.

They ran laps around the perimeter, and Reggie, Jason, Chuck and Archie bucked with each other to lead the pack.

“Look at Ethel. Man, that’s sad.” Ethel worked painfully through the moves of a new cheer. “Wish Jug were here to see this.”

“Grab a picture with your phone next time,” Reggie snickered back to Chuck. “Put it on YouTube!”

“That’d suck,” Archie tsked.

“It’d be friggin’ awesome,” Reggie sneered. “Can’t wait to show Jug how hot his girlfriend looks!” Reggie continued his mimicking falsetto tone. “Oh, Juggie! Look at my school spirit!” The rest of the boys chortled viciously despite being short of breath. “Look at meeee, Juggie!”

“Oh, God,” Ethel breathed softly, clapping her mouth over her hand. The color drained out of her face as male voices carried across the grounds.

“What?”

“They’re talking smack about me!”

“Ignore that shit,” Nancy tsked. “Rehearse!”

“I can’t! Not in front of them!”

“Are you kidding? Hell, yeah, in front of them! Show ‘em where they can shove their football! Who’s bad ass?”

“You,” Ethel muttered.

“Nuh-uh, girl! YOU! Show ‘em! You too, girl!” Nancy told Betty.

“Me?” she said defensively.

“Yeah! Don’t sit up here like a wallflower! Don’t do this little ‘shy girl’ mess you always do. C’mon! Stand up straight, Elizabeth Cooper!”

“I am!” she argued, but Betty squared her shoulders more and stood a little taller, less for her own benefit than to prove Nancy wrong.

“Nah, nah…uh-uh. Work what God gave ya! Suck in that gut! Throw your girls out there!” Nancy puffed her chest out and planted her hands on her hips, giving Betty a brief neck snap. “Show these girls this is Betty’s house!”

“Geez,” Betty giggled. Ethel’s shoulders shook as she bit her lip.

*

The boys ran passing drills and kept peeking, earning extra laps and pushups when Coach caught them loafing.

“She’s such a priss,” Reggie muttered aloud. Silently he admired Betty’s moves, which were crisp and fluid, but they were just…too correct.

Still…he expected that from her. Reggie was surprised she even went out for the squad. Betty had great school spirit, and she was outgoing enough, but she wasn’t a spotlight hog like Ronnie. He could barely hear her cheers from where he stood, but he occasionally snickered whenever Nancy got up and did the moves with her, rocking her hips into the steps. Betty was wholesome-looking in her pedal pushers and sneakers, hair caught up in her customary ponytail. The sunlight caught it, bringing out fiery gold highlights that held his gaze until he admitted to himself that he was staring.

There was such a sharp contrast between Betty and Nancy physically, and their personalities were so different, Reggie mused. Nancy was all sass, frequently a know-it-all and bossy as hell. Betty obviously didn’t mind being nagged, he assumed, especially when you took into account how much Ronnie led her around by the nose…

His eyes flickered back to Veronica.

She was hot. Plain and simple. Veronica was in it for herself. She didn’t care about cheering anyone on anymore than Reggie himself cared about playing for his school. He was in it to play, period. For himself. End of story. He was the best, and he knew it. He watched Veronica drop down into a slow, smooth split, smirking at Cheryl’s sneer from across the lawn. Hello, girlfight… Once again, Reggie wished he had his camera.

He snuck looks at Betty again. She was back to the same cheer, in the same voice, with the same correctness that made him shake his head. He almost pitied her.

Almost.

*

The next day, the first cuts were posted on the bulletin board outside the teacher’s lounge. A large throng of girls clustered around it, buzzing with gossip and sporadic screeches of outrage.

“Fifty girls?” Ethel said hopefully. “Too bad they aren’t keeping that many.”

“It’s cheerleading, Gumby. If you wanna hide in a nice big group, join the marching band,” Cheryl suggested helpfully.

“Maybe you should hide those black roots instead, Cheryl,” Ronnie countered sweetly. “Better do it before Friday.” Final cuts were two days away.”

“I don’t see your name at the top of the list,” Cheryl gloated.

“It will be on Friday when they make me captain.” Cheryl cut her green eyes venomously at her.

“You aren’t shit. No fucking way.”

“No, Cher…that’s the problem. You ARE shit. Don’t you get it?”

“The next person who says that word gets a citation for profanity,” Miss Grundy trilled. “Go. All of you,” she ordered, shooing away the girls who hadn’t stopped scanning the list despite the absence of their own names. Midge and Moose canoodled several yards away, and she looked smug and happy after finding hers.

“Those two are joined at the hip,” Betty mused.

“Don’t call attention to it,” Ethel said, disgusted. “So much more than I needed to see.” Moose leaned down…way down, since Midge was still relatively short, stopping her growth spurt at five-three, and he was huge in comparison. Their kiss was long and sloppy until Miss Grundy poked Moose’s shoulder to make them stop.

“It’s not fair,” Ethel grumbled.

“What?” You did your best.”

“YOU made it.”

“Sorry…”

“What? Pfft. No, Betty! It’s frickin’ awesome! I hope you get it over Cheryl, I can’t stand her!” They headed to geometry and dawdled by the pencil sharpener.

The period dragged on. Betty took dutiful notes, copying Mr. Flutesnoot’s diagrams from the board until boredom forced her to doodle in the margins. Crooked little hearts scrawled with Archie’s initials above hers littered every other line, along with verses of different cheers. She had to get it, or she’d just die. Die.

Something bounced off the back of her neck and landed on the floor. She fumed, knowing the culprit and wishing him a raging case of genital warts. A piece of college-ruled paper was folded into a neat football in the aisle. She ignored it.

Another one landed on her desk this time. Betty squelched the urge to tattle on him, knowing he’d just ream her for it once the bell rang…

Who gives two squirts of piss? I should tell on his ass. She eyed the paper, weighing the possibilities.

Curiosity won out. She unfolded it as she noticed lead scribbles and stifled a tiny sound of outrage.

“Something wrong, Betty?”

She sighed. “No. I’m fine.”

“Try to pay attention.” Flutesnoot turned back to the board and continued diagramming an isosceles parallelogram with congruent sides.

She should have known.

Gimme a B…Gimme an E… A homely little stick figured with crudely drawn boobs and a ponytail stood holding stringy pompoms over her head. The punchline? What’s that spell? LAME!

She boiled with hatred for him. What’d Reggie know?

Really, what the hell did he know, anyway?

I’m not lame! Asshole! She heard a faint, masculine snicker behind her and decided it wasn’t worth it to crane her neck around and glare him into a grease spot. What bothered her the most was that on some level, she was worried.

…what if she was lame? What if she sucked at the tryouts? She paused, contemplating the paper now crumpled in her fist. No.

Failure wasn’t an option.

*

She ignored him completely in the hall, despite more of his nasal, high-pitched impersonations (“Look at ME! I’m CHEERING for RIVERDALE! I’ve got SPIRIT!”) as she cruised toward her locker. He lost interest, only enjoying it if he got a rise out of her.

She put away her math book and found her French text under a pile of gym clothes that needed to be taken home. As she checked her reflection in the tiny magnetized mirror hanging inside the door, she caught a flash of red hair and freckles over her shoulder.

“Boo!”

“You shit,” Betty snickered, turning to lightly smack Archie’s shoulder. He grinned.

“You reading love notes in class?”

“What love notes?” She frowned, clueless.

“The one you had in Flutesnoot’s.”

“Pfft…yeah, right. Reggie’s a jerk.”

“What’d he do now?”

“What does he usually do?”

“Act like an ass?”

“Ding, ding, ding, ding!” she crowed. “He gets a prize!” She shoved the note at him, surprising herself that she’d saved it. Archie glanced at it and made a face, shaking his head.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s full of shit.”

“I know,” she agreed hastily, but a tiny little voice nagged her despite Archie’s praise. Then it occurred to her: Archie was giving her a compliment. Kind of.

“You stoked for the tryout?”

“I feel a little sick,” she admitted.

“Whatever! You can do it.”

“I guess…” she waffled, rubbing her nape and automatically tugging at her hair.

“C’mon! You’re good. I saw you out there.” She flushed.

“No, you didn’t!”

“Yeah I did!” he teased, grinning. “You looked good.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Geez, Bets…you’ll get it. Don’t worry.”

“I am worried.”

His one-armed squeeze around her shoulders gave her a rush of warm fuzzies, bringing her close enough to him to smell his cologne. Her heart did that little skipping thing and she didn’t recognize her own voice when it came out, so much higher and girlier than usual. “I am!” she added.

“Goofy,” Archie told her. “You’ll be fine.” He released her in a gesture that ended in a playful shove before he took off. “Later, Bets.”

“Bye, Arch.” She knew she looked ridiculous staring after him, but he looked hot, so who could blame her.

“What’d he just say to you?” Ronnie demanded, sidling up to her and startling her out of her haze. Betty turned and smiled, but Veronica looked annoyed.

“Nothing. He was just being nice.”

“Nice about what?”

“The tryout.” That made Veronica smile with satisfaction.

“Big deal. He already told me he knew I’d make it.” Betty deflated. “He kissed me, too.”

…why can’t you let me have this? Just this one little thing? Betty sighed heavily.

“Yay,” she muttered. “Reggie was being a dick. He wanted to make me feel better.”

“Reggie IS a dick. What else is new?” Ronnie sniffed. She looped her arm through Betty’s and tugged her along toward her next class. “Let’s go to my place after the tryout. I’m gonna show you my new boots I told you about.”

“Wear them tomorrow.”

“No,” Ronnie argued. “Not to school. Mom already said she’d kill me if I wore ‘em here. They’re suede and they cost a grip. But you can come see them.” She pronounced it as though she were giving Betty a pint of blood.

“That’s fine. Let’s get ice cream, too.”

“I guess,” Ron said, wrinkling her nose. “Why?”

“I feel like some. And it’ll make me feel better if I mess up.”

“Whatever,” Ronnie told her flatly. “I don’t plan to mess up. Neither should you.” She reached over and tugged the note from Reggie from the flap of Betty’s French book. “Geez…that’s messed up.” She giggled over it. Betty wondered again why she was still saving it.

She snatched it back from Ronnie and pitched it into the trash as they turned the corner.

*

“Number seventeen,” Miss Grundy called out into the corridor. Betty’s heart hammered in her chest and her palms began to sweat. She leapt to her feet from the floor and fumbled with her number that was pinned to her tee. She tucked stray tendrils of hair behind her ears and smoothed her ponytail one more time before she entered the gym. Miss Grundy, Miss Phlips and Miss Haggly all looked up and smiled at her from their table.

“C’mon in, Betty,” Miss Grundy encouraged. “Excited?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t be nervous. Okay. First, do the cheer on the board.” Betty was relieved to see it was her favorite. She took a deep breath.

“Now?”

“Uh-huh. Go ahead.” She steeled herself, then let go.

“BE! AGGRESSIVE! LET’S BE AGGRESSIVE!” Her claps sounded like bullets, clear, sharp and loud, and her voice belonged to an alpha dog, commanding, in control and completely unlike her. She heard Nancy coaching her in her head and was gratified to see the women on the panel silently nodding and making notes. Outside in the hall, she thought she heard murmuring, even though the gym door was supposed to be kept closed during each audition.

She felt out of breath and spent, hoping her courage hadn’t run out when Miss Phlips thanked her. “All right! Time for the full-length routine. Start at the song.” She pushed Play on the boom box, and Betty assumed the beginning stance of the dance, taking another deep breath and focusing on the gym’s floor boards.

I’m bad ass. I can do this. I’m. Not. Lame.

“Let’s Dance” by GaGa blared from the tiny speakers, and Betty threw herself into it.

Reggie peered around the edge of the door during the opening chords, despite Maria’s nagging that he get lost.

“Get outta here, ese!” she insisted, swatting him. “No boys!”

“They don’t mean me,” he shrugged.

“Don’t look in there!”

“I wanna see Betty mess up,” he told her, not intimidated in the least.

“Not today,” Nancy informed him.

“Why? She chicken out?”

“No. I said ‘Not today.’” Nancy didn’t bother to rephrase what she meant. Reggie ignored her, then went back to peeking through the crack in the doorway.

Betty was kicking ass. She killed the routine, one move at a time, precise and in perfect rhythm with the song. He was baffled. That wasn’t Cooper. No way.

Prissy old Betty never swung her hips like that. Never shimmied like that. Never isolated every muscle group of her torso like that in clean ripples so you noticed every curve. No more shy posturing; this Betty took hottie lessons from Ronnie or Cheryl.

“Holy…” he muttered under his breath.

“Wanna tissue?” Nancy offered helpfully by his elbow.

“Huh?”

“You’re slobbering.” She reached up with one pert finger and carefully lifted his jaw shut.

The music clicked off so suddenly Betty lost her equilibrium. Betty stood and caught her breath, chest heaving and swiping her damp bangs back from her brow.

“Not bad,” Miss Phlips told her. “You can go.”

“Yeah…thanks,” she told them before practically staggering toward the exit. As she closed the door behind her, Miss Grundy peered over at her coworkers.

“Well?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Miss Haggly asked dryly. “No-brainer, Geraldine. You just watched the same girl I did, right?”

“Right,” Miss Phlips agreed, making a little mark beside Cooper, Elizabeth on her spreadsheet.

Betty headed out into the corridor, where Midge, Maria, Nancy and Ethel swamped her. Ethel came for moral support and was first to squish her in a hug. “You. ROCKED.”

“My heart won’t stop pounding. I can’t feel my legs.”

“Girl, you tore it up,” Nancy told her, giving her a little elbow in the gut. Betty was distracted by the sight of a tall, dark-haired male heading out of the field house.

“Was that Reg?” she asked, confused.

“Pfft. Yeah. Peekin’, just like a dog.”

“Shit. Hope he wasn’t watching me.” Nancy rolled her eyes. “What?”

“Girl, please.”

“Nancy…Nance. C’mon. Tell me he wasn’t watching me!” Betty’s stomach twisted in embarrassment.

“You wouldn’t want your homegirl to lie, would you? ‘Course he was watching.” Betty’s cheeks flamed.

“I’ll never hear the end of it. I’m surprised he’s not here talking smack now. Next time, kick him out!”

“Won’t be any next time if you make it,” Nancy reminded her. Betty shot her a doubtful look. “Which you will.”

She didn’t add that Reggie had walked away looking like he needed to make an adjustment.
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Pigtails