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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Summary: Once you break the vase and glue it back together, the cracks still show.
“Hold still.” Nancy tugged a bobby pin free of the cluster that she had clamped between her lips and she secured a lock of Betty’s hair in place. Her voice sounded garbled; Betty wanted to laugh, but it was hard when her head was bent forward until her chin touched her collarbones.
“I’m trying.”
“Trah ‘arduh,” Nancy complained around the pins.
Betty sat on the toilet lid in her underwear, pantyhose and an open button-down shirt. Nancy hovered over her, similarly undressed and with her hair in hot rollers, diligently working on Betty’s agreeable blonde hair. They often experimented with it just for fun, often with mixed results, but Nancy had great artistic abilities and an eye for style, and if her best friend benefited from it, then all the better.
Betty escaped to Nancy’s house a little after five, as soon as she’d cleared the dinner dishes from the table and gathered up all of her supplies, ironed her dress and transferred her wallet, license, keys and favorite lipstick to the evening bag she planned to use for the night. She sighed as she tossed her old black pumps into the backseat of her car. If she thought about her favor to Ronnie too long, she’d just get pissed off.
Nancy pinned the third braid into place and dropped the remaining pins onto the vanity. She straightened up and stretched out a kink in her shoulder. “Phew.”
“My neck’s killing me,” Betty admitted. “Can I sit up now?”
“Yep. Take a look, girl, tell me what you think.” Betty rose from her seat and examined Nancy’s handiwork.
“Omigod! That’s so good!” Betty took the small hand mirror that Nancy passed her, and she sat back on the edge of the sink, craning her head back to get a better look. “It’s nice, how do you get it so neat?”
“Practice, girl, and plenty of headaches. This shit ain’t easy.”
“You could make some money doing this.” Betty ran her fingers over the precise, inverted French braids that were the first step in her up-do.
“I know. I do. Especially in the summer, when I go to visit my cousins over in Midvale and Central City.” She didn’t add that there weren’t enough Black people living in Riverdale who were interested in having their hair braided or pressed for her to make much money. Sometimes she had to step outside their comfy little berg to get ahead, and that annoyed her.
Nancy pulled on her boxer shorts over her tights for the sake of decency and headed down to the kitchen for a couple of sodas. Both of them were saving their appetites for the dance itself, since it also featured a bake sale in the lobby, and Betty planned to head to Veronica’s for her promised afterparty.
“NANCY!” her mother called over the blare of her daughter’s boom box. “Turn that mess down, please!”
“Got it!” she called back, turning the knob back scant notches before she told Betty, “Okay, sit up straight.” The next half-hour was grueling, full of parting, pulling, detangling, curling and more pinning, with Betty hissing in discomfort every time Nancy accidentally poked her with the hot iron or let a bobby pin dig too deep. But the end result was worth it.
“That’s gorgeous. Get out of here, you did it!” Nancy successfully copied a style for Betty from one of her hair magazines, French-braiding it upside-down in the back, leading up to large, shining Grecian curls styled like the singer Selena’s, in a “flower.”
“This is going to look so good with that dress, girl.”
“Thank you so much!” She gave Nancy a hug that resembled a head-lock until Nancy swatted her away.
“Woman, you’re gonna mess up MY hair, back it up.”
“Can you do my makeup?”
“Let me do mine first,” she countered. “We’ve got an hour.”
The next forty-five minutes were a blur of sprinkling foot powder into pumps before hopping into them, straightening stockings, combing out curler lines, applying concealer and brushing on lipstick, inserting earring posts, and tucking bra straps back below necklines. Excess lip gloss was blotted up with Kleenex and checked for on teeth. They took turns looking each other over, searching for last minute flaws.
“Here. Have a squirt.” Nancy doused Betty in a spritz of Curve before spraying some in her own cleavage for good measure. “Chuck loves this stuff on me.” Nancy could rub herself down with raw liver and onions, Betty thought, and it wouldn’t matter. He was crazy about her. Betty decided she needed all the help she could get.
“One more.” Nancy grinned and squirted her again.
“There. We’re good. Let’s roll, girl.” They grabbed their handbags and paraded down the stairs. Nancy’s parents looked up at the found of clopping footsteps, and they broke into oooh’s and aaaahhh’s.
“Giiiiiirrrrl, someone’s going out on the town,” Mrs. Woods clucked. She swatted her daughter’s hip and gestured for her to turn around. “You look so nice! That’s a nice looking dress, Betty! You actually made that?”
“Uh-huh.” She flushed when Mr. Woods got up and automatically went for his camera.
“C’mon, now, move in, all of you get in here. Aw, yeah, my babies all look good!” He snapped pictures while Nancy and her mom made silly faces and hammed it up. “Does your daddy know you’re going out the door in that get-up, young lady?”
“Pop!” Nancy whined. “C’mon, we’ve gotta go!”
“Betty doesn’t need to be running on c.p. time, baby, we’d better let ‘em go.”
“Why not? You women love being fashionably late,” he challenged, ducking when she threatened to swat him. Betty chuckled behind her hand as Nancy pulled Betty toward the front door. Almost like clockwork, they heard the sound of Chuck’s car pulling up in the driveway.
“Who’s picking you up?” Mr. Woods inquired.
“I’m going with Nancy and Chuck,” Betty explained.
“Tell that boy to turn off the engine and come in here,” Nancy’s father chided, folding his arms across his chest.
“He is, Daddy!” Nancy looked impatient and put-upon, rolling her eyes and curling her lip.
“Don’t give me that look, that look has sass written all over it. If you sass your old man, you don’t go.”
“Okay, okay!” she threw back over her shoulder as she answered the door. Chuck came up the porch steps and his coffee brown eyes widened in clear admiration as his girlfriend pulled him inside.
“Oh, my,” he whistled. Nancy’s father gave him the stink-eye and looked ready to smack him upside his head. Chuck straightened up and shook his hand firmly, pacifying him slightly.
“Midnight. No later. I’ve got your pop’s number on my speed dial.”
“Yessir.”
“Be good.” He kissed Nancy’s cheek and gave Betty a brief hug. Nancy’s mother tucked a twenty into Nancy’s purse before they scrambled down the front walk. Nancy’s parents made a shared face of disgust at the sound of Chuck’s speakers blaring as they drove down the street.
“How can they stand to be inside the car with that racket?”
“At least we won’t have to worry about them trying to sneak in after curfew. Lord knows we’ll hear ‘em comin’ the whole way down the block.”

*
“Why are we stopping here?”
“I promised Ron that I’d swing by.”
“Shoot. Should’ve had her swing by and pick us up, and saved me some gas,” Chuck complained as he parked the car, watching Betty scramble out of his car as quickly as decency would allow in her dress.
“I’ll just be a minute. Ron wanted me to take some pictures for her,” Betty called over her shoulder. “Come in for a minute.”
“Nah.”
“C’mon, boy, don’t be ghetto and wait out here with the engine running.” Nancy strong-armed him out of the car and hustled after Betty, smiling politely at Smithers as he let them into the foyer.
“Hello, Nancy. Don’t you both look nice,” Hermione Lodge remarked as she entered the room from the formal dining room. “Your hair must have taken hours!”
“I did it myself,” she bragged.
“Oh, that takes talent. I wish Ronnie had talent like that, it would have saved her father a small fortune,” she chuckled conspiratorially. “Want a soda? Either of you?”
“No, thanks.”
“The only thing they want is for Veronica to shake a leg,” Hiram interjected as he laid down his newspaper and parked his pipe in the ash tray. “Every time I ask if she’s finished, I get ‘In a minute, Daddykins,’” he mimicked in a falsetto that made Chuck snort. “I quit asking about an hour ago.”
“I’ll go check on her,” Betty announced impatiently.
“Good luck!” Betty’s heels clicked on the staircase as she headed for Veronica’s suite. As she reached the second floor, she heard her best friend’s Katy Perry songs blasting from her iPod deck. She knocked lightly on the door, and the scent of her cologne greeted her when Veronica impatiently yanked it open.
“It’s about time! Hey, look at your hair!” She ushered Betty inside and looked her over, and envy flashed in her brown eyes as she took in her up-do and custom-made blue dress, which managed to look fashionable and flattering despite the “sensible” shoes Veronica finagled her into wearing with it.
“Nancy did it. She’s waiting downstairs with Chuck.”
“She could have come up.” But Betty knew that Chuck wouldn’t have wanted to be left alone with Veronica’s father for more than a few minutes, and Nancy didn’t try to follow her up out of empathy. Hiram had a tendency to drone on about his own high school football days whenever Coach Clayton’s son came over, bragging and dragging out the same stories of glory until his eyes glazed over. Veronica headed for her vanity and held up a necklace. “I need your help with this,” she accused. “Tell me which one goes better with this.”
“I thought you bought that red one to go with it,” Betty reminded her as she nodded to the gold chain with red Swarovski crystal charms hanging from it.
“I know, but now that I see this one, I think it might go better,” Veronica pointed out as she unfastened the tiny clasp of a Y-pendant choker with a teardrop of hematite in its center. Betty helped her hook it behind her neck as Veronica carefully held up her hair, which reeked of hairspray.
“No,” Betty pronounced before Veronica could even drop her hair again. “I like the red.”
“You think?”
“Definitely. Take that one off.” If Betty wavered, they’d never get out the door. Veronica sighed, shrugged and took the pendant off, chucking it onto a small silver tray sitting on her vanity.
“I trust your opinion.”
“Would this face lie?” Betty folded her arms under breasts and gave her a look that said “Woman, please.”
“Okay. I need a picture. Not over here.” Veronica handed her iPhone over to Betty and motioned for her to follow her to the uncluttered half of her large suite. The bed was rumpled and strewn with different, last-ditch clothing choices, some of which cost more than two weeks of Hal Cooper’s salary. Betty took Veronica’s picture in front of an antique changing screen while she vamped, blowing pouty imaginary kisses. “Send it to Archie. Wait. Let me do it.”
“Fine.” Betty handed it over, rolling her eyes.
“I’m sending it to a few people.”
“We need to get going,” Betty reminded her. She sighed to herself as she saw Veronica shoving her feet into the shoes she lent her, but she squelched her feelings of resentment. It was one night, and if she had to admit it – she hated to admit it – her shoes looked better with Veronica’s shocking red strapless dress.
“Let’s get one together,” Veronica insisted, and Betty acquiesced. “I want Nancy to do my hair, next time.”
“Then ask her, next time,” Betty suggested helpfully. Veronica’s hair looked sexy, blown out and over-the-top, which was the look she was going for. They leaned in toward each other and made silly faces while Veronica aimed the camera back at them for an impromptu shot that she used for her Facebook update moments later as they descended the stairs.
Veronica shrugged into the white fake fur that Smithers held out for her and kissed her parents goodnight. As soon as she emerged from the house with her friend in tow, her father’s limousine rolled up in the circular driveway.
“Must be nice,” Chuck murmured under his breath, admiring the gleaming paint, leather interior and expensive rims.
“It’s got a wet bar,” Veronica added.
“No it doesn’t,” Hiram countered.
“Daddy!”
“No.” He ignored his daughter’s scarlet pout and kissed her again. “I want you in by one.”
“I have to be home by midnight,” Betty mentioned.
“Midnight, then,” he agreed smugly.
“DADDY! BETTY!” Veronica punched Betty’s arm, but her friend shrugged.
“It’s not like we were going anywhere else.”
“Then can I have my friends over after?” Veronica begged.
“These friends, yes.”
“How about Archie?” Hiram shuddered.
“How about not?”
“DADDY!”
“You could do better,” Hiram grumbled.
“PrettyprettyprettyPRETTYplease, Daddy…”
“I’m not hosting a free-for-all. You have a curfew. Your friends have curfews. A few people, until one. That’s it.”
“We’re paying for the car by the hour,” Hermione added solemnly. “No hanging out of the roof and no piling in all of your friends or making a mess.”
“I promise.” Veronica had a smug gleam in her eye.
*
“WHOOOOOOOO! GO, RIVERDALE!” Cars honked at the stretch Navigator and the three girls waving from the open top at the intersection. The driver nagged them to sit down and buckle back in before the light turned green. Sabrina, Maria and Midge hustled back into their seats, flushed and giggling. Betty almost wished she had taken Nancy up on her offer to continue to homecoming in Chuck’s backseat, but the chance to ride in a limo was hard to pass up. After several rapid-fire calls, Veronica rounded up half of the cheerleading squad for a ride around town, driving back down Main Street twice to show off.
The scent of perfume, hairspray and flavored lip gloss was cloying, but Betty was having a great time, just glad to be included, but her stomach swam with butterflies. She hoped her dress went over well. She hoped she got to dance with Archie, even though it was a risky endeavor. It all depended on whether or not he asked her. At the very least, she could talk to him, Betty reasoned. Talking never hurt anything, did it?
Veronica flip-flopped back and forth about letting Archie take her to the dance, but her father didn’t like the prospect of him taking her in his car and having to rely on the redheaded menace to bring her back by curfew. Hence the limousine, a small price to pay if he could keep Mr. Wandering Eyes out of the picture. Mr. Lodge was no stranger to his daughter and her best friend staying up at all night during sleepovers mooning over Fred Andrews’ son, and it made little sense to him why he was shared property between them, or so it seemed. He taught his daughter to have more pride than that, namely not to want a boy who couldn’t devote himself to her. Call Hiram biased, but Veronica was his special girl. There were other fish in the sea.
While Veronica’s father was home, trying to convince himself that he was grateful that his hair was already white so it wouldn’t turn gray with worry, his daughter was holding court. “I heard Cheryl and Jason are getting a stretch Hummer,” Maria informed them, leaning in an smirking as she shared the gossip.
“Those are so tacky,” Veronica said with a dismissive wave of her hand. She neglected to admit that her father almost rented her one. “But so are those two. I hated Pembroke when I went there.”
“It was just for orientation,” Betty reminded her.
“That was enough. They were a bunch of snobs.” It struck Betty as funny. When Veronica first announced that she was looking into attending the private high school, she was boastful and proud, and she informed Betty that a “better class of people” went there. But the experience left a bitter taste in her mouth. Pembroke’s students were just as rich as Veronica, very jaded, and frequently unfriendly. Veronica was no longer a big fish in a small pond, and she quickly changed her mind, begging her parents to enroll her at Riverdale High, after all.
Cheryl and Jason Blossom were the most rotten apples in the barrel, in her opinion. Cheryl guaranteed her name at the top of Veronica’s shit list when she set her sights on Archie. Truthfully? Betty was harmless… almost. As much as Veronica loved Betty and considered her a pair of ears and a shoulder to cry on when she needed it, she didn’t consider Betty enough of a threat where Arch was concerned. Cheryl, on the other hand, was a bombshell and a bad girl, and in Ron’s opinion, she tried much too hard.
A stretch Hummer… ugh.
“Cheryl said she flew to New York last weekend for her dress.”
“Big deal.”
“Must be nice,” Maria remarked sourly. “Clearance rack, baby! Wet Seal!” She brandished the strap of her little purple dress and Betty gave her a high five.
“Where did you get yours, Sabrina?”
“Oh, it was just something I whistled up out of thin air,” she said mysteriously, grinning. Betty was surprised that Sabrina didn’t go to the dance with her boyfriend, Harvey, but she had no objections to the platinum blonde hanging out with them. Sabrina was always a little unconventional, but she never brought drama to the table. A few of their friends planned to meet their dates at the dance, making Betty feel a little less left out.
Technically, she was going solo. That rankled.
*

Reggie casually scratched his hand where the splint was rubbing it wrong, making him itch like crazy. It was the only imperfection to how he looked that night, and it didn’t stop heads from turning when he went to the ticket table. His date squeezed his arm eagerly to get his attention.
“Want a soda?”
“Do you?” he inquired, smiling noncommittally at Dolores, an exchange student from Costa Rica.
“Si, claro.”
“Te lo doy, chula.” She giggled and excused herself.
“I’ll be back. Hold our spot in line por un momento, papi.” She rushed toward the girl’s rest room, wrestling two of her friends nearby inside. Reggie had no doubt they were getting “the report” on his conduct and his chances for the night. He sighed and shook his head. Dolores was nice enough, gorgeous, and slightly vapid, which made her the perfect date for the dance. The popular exchange student accepted his invitation quickly, and it didn’t hurt that she poured on the sympathy for his injury.
Equally important, Dolores was a born mingler. She would spend just as much time at the dance chatting up her friends and flirting to give Reggie the chance to circulate. It was a convenient arrangement on his part.
He automatically scanned the room for a familiar blonde head and flash of blue. He watched several girls from the cheerleading squad file inside with their dates and without, seeing them gravitate toward the punch bowl as a buzzing hive of gossip and intrigue. Veronica gradually drifted inside, and Reggie snorted as Archie appeared out of thin air. She looped her arm through the redhead’s and was up in his face, making a fuss over straightening his shirt cuff. Reggie eyed her approvingly and decided to bide his time; he’d tease a dance or two out of Veronica easily enough. What amused him about Veronica was that she had to be the hottest girl in the room, not just to impress Archie, but to prove herself to herself.
Reggie tried with her. He’d wined and dined her, drove her around town in his car, ran errands for her, you name it. She was attractive and he was drawn to her, but the thing that was lacking was passion. He was supposed to want the prettiest girl, it was the rule. He nursed a healthy enough obsession with her in junior high, but those feelings leveled off, losing some of their intensity. What drove him nuts was that Reggie was relegated to “backup” status. Reggie refused to be anyone’s “just in case” man, unless there was an off-chance of “rebound boyfriend” sex in it for him. He’d kissed Veronica before, and it was satisfying, a meeting of two people who were proficient about it and confident in their technique, their interactions so smooth they felt almost choreographed. Reggie felt victory surging in his chest the first time she acquiesced, offering him a sexy, smug smile before caressing his lips with hers. That was the first.
By about the fifth time, the experience lost some of its spark. He couldn’t pin it down, but on some level, it seemed like they were too much alike.
So it was back to the drawing board. Once in a while, he made a play for her, but it wasn’t any fun if she was available. Reggie found her most attractive when she was taken, and it drove Carrot-Top batshit.
Dolores came back after he handed his tickets over at the desk, and he waited dutifully for her until she finished giggling with her friends. He handed her a cold diet Coke and she peered up at him through her lashes.
“Love your shirt.”
“You look hot,” he countered. She snuggled against his arm, pressing her breast against it in a blatant gesture.
“You’re sweet, papi.” She barely sipped the soda before abandoning it when the deejay played some Pitbull. She dragged him onto the floor and Reggie sighed.
He was in the center of the dance floor as the crowd began to swell around them, and she kept him distracted for about a half hour before he finally saw her.
The sight of her nearly gave him whiplash.
The dress itself was different, a retro-looking blue dress, strapless with a full skirt and black belt, and she paired it with little black pumps that made her legs look curvy and luscious. Her hair was done up, revealing the graceful column of her neck. Her makeup wasn’t remarkable, not the femme fatale smoky eye and gleaming, dark lip that Dolores had opted for or that Ronnie fell back on, sticking with what worked since she was fourteen. Betty did the “I’m barely wearing any makeup” technique with a light hand and only emphasized her eyes. Reggie detected a minute coat of mascara, just enough to darken her lashes, and her shadow was subtle, just enough to make him look twice.
Her lips were glossed in tourmaline pink; he wondered if it was strawberry flavored.
Ethel, Midge and Nancy flanked her; there was safety in numbers. They drifted out onto the dance floor as a group, abandoning Chuck and Moose at the snack table while they talked about scores and casually mocked the girls’ love of music they considered lame. Reggie stole glances at her once in a while, but he always focused himself back on Dolores before she noticed anything was amiss. Veronica was dancing with Archie, and they seemed to gravitate toward Betty, too, as the anchor of their “safe zone.”
Just close enough to make Miss Goody Two Shoes jealous and insecure. There it was. The pout that replaced her casual smile, the faint slump in her posture and a sigh that Reggie felt rather than heard. It frustrated him, yet at the same time, it left the field wide open for him. Reggie begged off the floor after the sixth song, claiming he wanted to pop a couple of Advil for his hand. Dolores kissed his cheek in sympathy and migrated toward the entrance of the gym, waiting on some of her tardy friends.
All he had to do was wait. He’d seen this movie before. The scene unfolding before him was predictable and slightly tragic.
Veronica asked Betty to hold her purse.
It was the crowning insult, and it was a rule of the game that he was very familiar with. The Girlfriend Rules. The playbook was more complicated than Coach Kleats’ whiteboard, and Reggie was glad he was born male. There was an unspoken code in being a beta girl or being yin to a best friend’s yang, the subdued, dark sky that gave the star’s glow shine and meaning. The less attractive friend always held the purse. Sometimes it just happened by chance; whichever friend who was invited to dance first was left holding the bag – literally. It wasn’t a heavy bag by any stretch. Veronica didn’t have her whole life in there; at most, maybe a backup tube of lipstick, some mints, car keys, loose change and a cell phone. But The Purse was a lead weight, anchoring its guardian to the floor, leaving its keeper immobile and single, abandoned and wallflowered for a three-to-four-song minimum.
There were other burdens involved with being a beta girl. If the alpha girl had to go to the bathroom, the beta girl automatically had to follow. The beta girl had to act as an impromptu groomer, fixing stray hairs, quality-checking lipstick to ensure it hadn’t strayed to front teeth, hiding rebellious bra straps and blotting sweat away with damp paper towels without spoiling makeup or carefully teased bangs.
The beta girl was well-practiced in these rituals and obediently, wisely kept mum. It didn’t sway the dynamic in her favor to complain, or at worst, refuse to do this favor at the risk of being labeled a bitch. Dance night slander ruined many a girl by the following Monday morning and guaranteed uncomfortable stares and snickers that she knew she didn’t deserve, but it was a vicious cycle.
So Betty stood and watched, hanging on the fringes of her circle of girlfriends, who merely shrugged in sympathy and watched her dancing with less enthusiasm, encumbered with a two-pound clutch that had the nerve to feature handles instead of a long strap. She looked like an angel. Her best friend treated her like a mule.
It drove him nuts. Reggie decided to tip the scales and stir things up. Dolores was running her mouth and casually ignoring him for the moment. Reggie wandered through the crowd, elbowing his way past and between bodies that were just beginning to sweat.
Betty reacted with a start as he appeared by her elbow. “Gonna just stand here all night, Cooper?”
“Shit,” she muttered, irritation bringing out the divot between her brows. Reggie grinned. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“You looked out of it.”
“I’m fine.”
Damn right you are. “You’re dressed up and spent five bucks to get in, just to stand here holding a purse.” She shoved him and he feigned injury. “My arm!” he threatened. “She’s abusing me again! I have witnesses!”
“Get over yourself,” she tsked, but she tried to fight a little smile. “I said I was sorry.”
“You play too rough,” he accused, and he took slightly guilty pleasure in her guilt, in the way her blue eyes darted away from his for a moment before they returned, beseeching him.
“Is there a reason why you came over here, aside from just making me feel like shit?”
“No. That was pretty much it. How’m I doing?”
“Splendidly,” she said with a fake little grin before turning away from him. Reggie scanned the room; Dolores was talking animatedly with Maria and Frankie, so he was fine for the moment. She stared out at the dance floor, eyes searching for Archie, that much he knew. “Does it still hurt?” she inquired.
“Eh. Nah.” Before she sigh in relief, he added “Not much.”
“That makes me feel much better.” He tried to keep a straight face, but his eyes gave him away.
“If you really felt bad, you could carry my books and hold my door.”
“And then what? Peel you a grape? Bend over and pucker up? Kiss your boo-boo?” His black brow rose at this, and his sly smile made her recant. “Oh, hell no.”
“Hey, you suggested it.”
“When pigs fly, Mantle.” But to his delight, her cheeks flushed deep scarlet, and she looked away from him again; her eye roll lost some of its impact. Reggie, one; Betty, zero.
She smelled good, and Reggie caught a faint whiff of something bubblegum-sweet. It had to be her lip gloss; it was strawberry, if memory served him correct. Not that he’d sampled hers, but still… Lip quenchers, ChapStick, and Lip Smackers tended to linger and leave behind sweet, sticky residue, and Reggie was turning into a connoisseur.
He smelled good. Darn it. He was making it hard to ignore him and tell him to go to hell.
He looked good, impeccable in his charcoal dress shirt, black slacks and tie, and Reggie didn’t have a hair out of place. Reggie towered over Betty, even when she was in heels, and he was harder and leaner after half a season of basketball than he’d been for football in the fall. His shoulders were invitingly broad, filling out the silk shirt and tempting her to reach out and touch him, but she kept her hands to herself.
Until he looked down in annoyance at his splint, frowning as he scratched his wrist. “I hate this thing,” he muttered.
“Huh?”
“Itches.”
“Awwwwww,” she crooned with a little pout. “When do you get it taken off?”
“Another two weeks.”
“That sucks.”
“Eh.” She reached for his hand before he could scoff at her concern, and he tingled at her touch as she turned his wrist palm-up, examining the splint.
“You let people sign it?”
“Why not? What’s the fun of having a cast if no one does?”
“It’s not supposed to be fun. Sure wasn’t when I fractured my ankle.” It was the last time Betty had tried skiing, despite Ron’s claims that it was easy.
“Easy now, Hopalong.” Of course he’d coined that nickname for her, and it rankled that he remembered it.
“Jerk.” She traced some of the signatures with her finger. “Hearts? Who drew those?”
“I don’t remember.” There were several of them, along with smileys, peace signs, and to Betty’s amusement, phone numbers.
“You’re such a dog.”
“Woof.”
“Who’d you come with?” Her eyes darted out to the floor and she wondered for a second if he’d been abandoned.
“Dolores.” As if on cue, the sexy Latina came swishing over, eyeing Betty up and down.
“That’s some dress, chica,” she mentioned as she wrapped her hand around Reggie’s elbow, squeezing it. Her smile said “Back off.”
“Those are great shoes,” Betty returned, getting the message loud and clear.
“Come dance with me,” Dolores demanded, giving Reggie a little tug. He smiled indulgently and headed toward the dance floor, reluctant to leave his sparring match with Betty behind.
“Later,” he flipped over his shoulder.
“Yeah. Whatever.” She felt bereft, but the gods had mercy on her, offering her a consolation prize.”
“Here. Give me my bag. Come with me.” Veronica relieved her of the clutch. “What’re you doing all the way over here by yourself?”
Duh… “People watching.”
“These shoes are killing me.”
“Trade you?”
“Archie thinks they look hot,” Veronica said dismissively. Betty longed to smack her. Veronica took Betty’s hand and tugged her toward the exit, and she smothered a sigh. She caught Nancy’s eye where she sat snuggled against Chuck on the bleachers, and they exchanged looks. When her friends disappeared from the gym, she muttered “I’m glad that’s not me.”
“She’s your friend,” Chuck pointed out.
“Ron’s not my BFF,” she countered.
“Thank the Lord,” Chuck told her, grimacing. “That girl’s all about the drama.”

*
Ethel danced for a few songs when she ran into her few single friends, including a few guys from Chess Club and the cross country team, but she was never their first choice, something that irked her. She always had to ask. She always had to work up the nerve to make the first move. How was that fair?
If she didn’t, then she ended up sidelined on the bleachers all night, wondering when she could go home and still get her money’s worth from her ticket. Slow songs were the bane of her existence.
“Hey.” A pleasant tenor by her right shoulder tore her from her musings as she watched bodies pairing up on the floor and slowing down, moving to a song that she normally loved. She turned and faced Dilton, and she grinned at the efforts he’d taken with himself.
The customary sweater vest was still in place, but he’d completed the look with a long-sleeved dress shirt and tie. Ethel was surprised to notice his glasses were missing. He has pretty eyes. They were deep-set and a warm brown, with lashes that were almost too long for a boy; his dark brows were tidy like the rest of him, thick but smooth. He smelled like Old Spice, a reliable, masculine smell in her opinion, instead of the choking, cloying odor of Axe body spray. She detected a hint of Trident on his breath, and he was completely dry, not a drop of sweat to be found.
He’d spent the whole night on the sidelines. No one asked him to dance.
“Hey. You look nice.”
“So do you. That’s some dress.”
“This old thing?” She blushed and straightened her hair, tucking a lock of her short bob behind her ear. “Thanks. I borrowed it from my mom.” She didn’t mention that it was one of the only things she could find that wasn’t too short; no one designed decent juniors’ dresses for girls over five-eight. Her mother frowned at some of the hemlines when they tried on a selection of dresses from Nordstrom, and Ethel knew she was fighting a losing battle. She smoothed her palms over the dress briefly when they began to sweat.
“You been here long?”
“I came pretty early.” She didn’t add “by myself.”
“Yeah. I’ve been here a while.”
“Did you come with…anybody? Friends?”
“Kinda. I came in the same car with a couple of guys from Chess Club.”
Then why couldn’t you have just asked me? she wondered. “That’s cool.”
“Do you, uh… want a soda?” He nodded toward the snack table, and she smiled when he motioned for her to lead the way.
“Good deejay.”
“He’s okay.” There was nothing wrong with the songs, but the lack of action on the dance floor she definitely had a problem with. “I like this song,” she added.
“It’s okay.” Ethel was slightly discouraged. Okay, so they would sit this one out. No surprise…
“C’MON, DILTON! MAKE A MOVE!” a loud voice bellowed from the dance floor. Jason Blossom was smirking over his dance partner’s shoulder, and Ethel wanted to smack him with her shoe.
“He’s an asshole,” Ethel hissed under her breath.
“His sister’s no better. They share maybe five brain cells between the two of them.”
“Stop them before they contaminate the gene pool,” Ethel chimed in, earning his grin.
“She told me the other day that I was lucky that I could still order off the kiddie menu.”
“That’s mean.”
“Sometimes, I still can.” He kept a straight face at first, but at her dumbfounded expression, he let on that he was teasing, elbowing her. Ethel elbowed him back.
“So you’re not that tall. Big deal.” She gulped down her Coke and sighed. “I’ll trade you.”
“You look fine.”
“It’s a pain. No one sells pants that are long enough, or shoes that are big enough unless I go to a more expensive store or the men’s section.”
“How tall are you, again?”
“Five-ten. I grew again.”
“Wow.” He rocked back on his heels. “I’m still waiting on my growth spurt. It’s not happening.” Dilton reached a little higher than Ethel’s chin, and that was only because he had grown a little since the summer. He was still lean and well-proportioned, but his size made people take him a lot less seriously, and it drove him nuts.
“It might. Who knows?” She elbowed him again. “But you look nice, anyway.”
“Ethel?”
“Yeah?”
“Do me a favor?”
“Name it.”
“Dance with me? I bought a ticket, and it’s homecoming, but so far, it’s been a bust. I’m bored out of my skull, and I wish I was at home watching my Firefly or Star Wars DVDs.” Her gray eyes lit up.
“Dilly, I love Firefly.”
“I’ll lend them to you.”
“If we just watch them at your place, I’ll bring the snacks.”
“Sounds good. But will you dance with me?”
“Finish that,” she told him, nodding to his soda.
“I’m done with it.”
“Then come on!” Ethel did a mental fist pump. Yes!
She soon felt grateful for the sensible little two-inch heels her mother lent her; Ethel and Dilton spent the rest of the night out on the floor, finally playing second-string. During the next slow song, she wondered if he could hear her heart pound. Dilton stopped worrying about whether his palms were sweaty, after a while. He grew so overheated that his tie ended up tucked in his pocket and he’d rolled up his sleeves and loosened his collar, but he didn’t mind.
*
By ten o’clock, Betty was bored and frustrated. She contemplated begging off Veronica’s after party and claiming a headache, and she was on her second soda, nibbling a few pretzel sticks. Thankfully, Veronica had her purse back, and she was glad to be free of the burden, but in the meantime, her BFF was holding court with Archie, sitting down in her stocking feet to get a reprieve from the shoes.
“Why’re you hiding over here, being a killjoy?” Jason accused. He gave her a low wolf whistle, which earned him a light shove. “You look almost as good as me.” She looked hot.
“How you do go on. So why don’t you go on over there.” But her smile was teasing. “Where’s your date?”
“Didn’t bring one. Just playing it by ear.” She’d noticed. Just like Reggie, Jason appreciated volume and danced his share with different partners. He’d watched her, biding his time and avoiding Veronica, since it worked against him if he talked shit about her best friend. As far as he could tell, Betty Cooper liked him, but she was on the fence as to whether to “like him, like him.”
He smelled expensive to her and looked smooth in black; in the back of her mind, she thought Reggie pulled it off more easily. “Was your Hummer crowded?” He snickered, liking her question only because he didn’t realize how loaded it was.
“Packed. You should’ve come with us.”
With Cheryl? No, thanks. “Nah. I had a ride.”
“You rode in with the riff-raff.”
“I am riff-raff.”
“Not even. At least you’ve got class.”
“So do my friends,” she argued.
“Not all of your friends.” His green eyes caught sight of Veronica and he sneered briefly. “I see one of them right now who spent a lot of money to look pretty cheap.”
“That’s not cool.”
“It’s okay if I think she’s full of herself. I’ll be honest. I don’t think she’s all that. Our parents are actually friends.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Sure you didn’t. Of course you didn’t. She won’t act like she’d have anything to do with me, and I don’t give a shit.” Betty didn’t agree. He seemed chafed.
“Did you like her before?”
“When?” he scoffed.
“I dunno. Just before.”
“She’s never given me much reason.”
“Not even a little?” He couldn’t figure out what she was fishing for.
“She wishes I’d give her the time of day.” A light went on in Betty’s head.
Jason did like Veronica, once.
“What’s that look?”
“Nothing,” Betty lied.
“You think I like her.”
“I never said that.”
“Get that thought out of your head,” he said in disgust.
“I’m not thinking anything of the sort.”
“Good. Don’t ever think it.” She could tell she’d hit a nerve, and her smile was small and satisfied.
“I like this song.”
“Eh. Nah.” She looked disappointed, and he sighed. “Eh. C’mon.” He took her hand, and her pulse jumped in excitement.
He was only indulging her because she looked hot. And truthfully? Because it was Betty. It wasn’t much progress, but he’d take it.
Betty never expected the tide to turn so sharply with something as meaningless as a dance. One little dance with a boy she was content to keep brushing off. Betty Cooper had lit a match, whether she knew it or not.
“What’s Betty doing out there with Jay?” Archie muttered to Veronica. She followed his hand where he was pointing and hissed in displeasure.
“What the hell? Why is she out there with that loser?”
“Got me,” Nancy replied. “Dang. So it’s like that.”
“No, it’s not like that. It better not be. Ew.” Veronica was aghast.
“What’s she doing with him?” Archie wondered. His voice sounded indignant.
“Having a pretty good time,” Chuck pointed out.

Reggie saw a flash of blue and the strobe lights flickered off of blonde hair. He saw Betty with Jason, and the auburn-haired point guard was holding her too close for his comfort. Scratch that. The sight of it made him very uncomfortable.
A rash of hot tingles ran over his nape and Reggie burned with jealousy. Reggie ignored Dolores for a moment, letting her chatter get drowned out in the music as he kept stealing looks at Betty.
Great. Blossom moved in when his back was turned. That wasn’t part of his plan. Betty was laughing at something he said, and her face was flushed; Reggie wondered if it was dirty.
“What’s up? Earth to papi?” Dolores teased.
“Huh?”
“Your mind was wandering,” Dolores accused. She didn’t tell him that his eyes had, too. She glanced over at Betty and made a face, noticing that she’d paired up with that stuck-up brother of Cheryl’s. She didn’t know the redhead all that well, but she was grateful; it bored her to hear her go on about her wealth and some of the places she’d been. Dolores wasn’t impressed when she told her that her family vacationed in Costa Rica the summer before. Cheryl admitted to not being able to speak a word of Spanish.
He returned his attention to her, and everything was fine for a while, but then he excused himself to go to the bathroom. Dolores retreated to the perimeter, annoyed and impatient.
“I’ll be back,” Archie murmured to Veronica, gently removing her hand from his shoulder.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be back in a sec,” he assured her as he abandoned his seat and crossed the gym.
“What the hell?” Veronica was agape. “What just happened here?”
“Where’s he going?” Chuck wondered.
“Uh-oh,” Nancy said before she could stop herself. Archie began to weave his way through the crowd, and she had a feeling that something was about to hit the fan.
Reggie decided to take the long way to the men’s room, and he plowed through the crowd, honing in on Betty’s blond hair. The dance was a slow one, and Betty’s cheek rested on Jason’s shoulder. Her posture was relaxed, but she looked like she had something on her mind. “Bets,” he said aloud, trying to get her attention.
“BETS!” Archie called out over the crowd as he grew closer. Jason’s hand was fondling her hip, dangerously close to her ass, and he saw red. Betty’s eyes snapped open from her haze, and she frowned when she saw Reggie coming toward them, looking annoyed with her.
“Now what?
“Betty, what’re you doing out here with him?” Archie accused, tapping her shoulder in irritation. Her face flushed with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment.
“Watch where you’re putting your hands,” Reggie interjected, narrowing his eyes at Jason.
“Why? Are you her watchdog?” he huffed. He shook his head at both of them. “Fucking townies. She’s dancing with me. Go find your own.” Betty’s nape tingled. He made it sound like he didn’t want to share the last swing on the playground, fer cryin’ out loud…
“Ronnie was looking for you,” Archie attempted, trying to appeal to their friendship, but he had other motives.
“Tell her you found me.”
“Better yet, tell Veronica she can wipe her own ass. She’s a big girl,” Jason suggested nastily. Reggie almost agreed with him, but he couldn’t let Blossom distract him from his purpose.
“Jay, stop it,” Betty snapped. “That’s not cool.”
“What? She can do without you for a minute, can’t she?”
“It might be important,” Archie lied. He tugged Betty away from Jason and took her aside. “Why are you with him?” he hissed, hovering closely enough to her for her to smell his breath. Normally, she’d be thrilled.
“He asked me to dance.” Unlike some people, she wanted to point out. “So?”
“He’s bad news.”
“Since when?”
“Bets, get a clue. He gets around, and I hear stuff all the time about this guy.”
“Whatever,” she scoffed. Betty was frustrated. Here waited all night, hoping Archie would pay her some attention, but this wasn’t what she expected. He had no right to criticize her choice of who to dance with, and he was being about as subtle as a brick to the face.
“Get out of here, Carrot-Top,” Reggie told him, clapping a hand over Archie’s shoulder. “I’ve got this.”
“You’ve got what?” Jason huffed, throwing up his hands. “Really? You too, Mantle? Get outta here with that shit. She didn’t come with you!”
“Shouldn’t this be up to me?” Betty reminded them in aggravation. “Can I get back to my dance?”
“You mean back to your date,” Jason offered, taking her hand and pulling her possessively behind him. His face was smug even while Betty glared at the two boys that she thought, on some level, were her friends, despite attempts on her part to the contrary.
“She told you no,” Reggie argued. He’d heard it through the grapevine that Betty refused his offer to go with him, glad to have the ammunition.
“You came with a date. Go back to her,” Jason said, dismissing him. His green eyes growled, Go cockblock somewhere else. Get your own.
Betty’s pulse sped up. Several people around them glanced at her, wondering what was up, and how she ended up surrounded by not just one, but three hot guys who seemed to be arguing over her.
“Reg?” He turned to meet Dolores’ confused and irritated look. He fumed, then sighed.
“Hey.”
“You said you had to go,” she reminded him, folding her arms under her breasts and giving him a pointed look.
“So go,” Archie added. Reggie wanted to punch him, and he saw smugness in Archie’s blue eyes.
“Go back to your date, Mantle,” Jason fired back. “She’s waiting.”
“What’s going on, papi?”
“Nothing. Just… nothing.” He took her hand and led her away. Archie watched them leave with satisfaction, but before he could continue to plead his case to Betty, he felt a light tap on his arm. Veronica confronted him, hand on her hip and fuming.
“What’s going on? Why did you take off? And what are you doing with him?” she demanded of Betty.
“He asked me to dance,” Betty explained as though Ron were five. “News flash: Someone wanted to dance with Betty, tonight.”
“Betty, you could do way better.” Ronnie wrinkled her nose in distaste. She didn’t even have the decency to look guilty at dragging her friend around like a pet all night.
“She could do better than you.”
“Fuck you, Jay!”
“Fuck YOU!”
“That’s enough!” Miss Grundy cruised over and stepped between them. “No fighting. This is a dance, you’re in a public place. Leave the drama at home, or you’ll all be asked to leave.” Her face promised detention on Monday morning and worse if they didn’t get their act together.
“We were minding our own business, ma’am,” Betty explained. “It’s no big deal.”
“Yes, it is,” Veronica argued, taking Betty’s arm and trying to pull her aside. “You know better, Betty. You don’t even like him.”
“No. You don’t like him.”
“Betty… this is bullshit.”
“No, it’s bullshit that all of you came barging over here and giving me a hard time about it. It’s one dance. That’s all. It’s not like he asked me to bone him.”
“Oh, God. Don’t say that. That’s not even funny. I just threw up in my mouth. Ew.” Jason looked amused until he heard the words “bone him,” and then he felt indignant.
“That’s what he wants,” Archie added.
“Don’t you get involved,” Veronica railed, turning on him. “This is between me and her.”
“It’s between us and the whole school, now.” Betty was embarrassed.
“That’s enough,” Miss Grundy agreed. “Settle this elsewhere, some other time. Enjoy yourselves. Dance. Mingle. No more arguing.” Jason took Betty’s hand and tugged her back toward the center of the dance floor, but when she leaned back into him, it felt uncomfortable, less natural.
Reggie attempted to pacify his date, but he went about it half-heartedly. “Why were you talking to her again?”
“It’s no big deal.”
“It is if I’m your date.”
“She’s a friend. You talk to your friends.”
“I’m a girl. They’re girls. You’re not.”
“Why? You jealous?”
“It’s not jealous if a guy asks me to a dance, and I want him to pay attention to me.”
“I have been,” he shrugged.
“Could’ve fooled me,” she huffed. Her dark eyes were blazing, but her voice was hurt. She turned her back on him for a moment, thinking about what else she wanted to say. “Reggie… papi, I get the feeling you didn’t really come here with me.”
“What?” Reggie asked innocently. “Why?”
“You’ve been staring at her a lot. Do you like her?”
“Dolores…no. Bets? Pfft…” He waved the idea away dismissively. “Please. She can’t stand me. She’s not even my type.”
“Why not? What is your type?”
“Your type,” he said automatically, and it took all of his self-control not to stare back out at the dance floor.
“You’re sure?”
“Would I have asked you here?”
“Convince me.” She tugged on his shirt imperiously, and he met her halfway, giving her a kiss meant to tantalize and distract her. It worked.
“Still think I like her?”
“That’s up to you.”

Betty stayed out on the floor for another three songs, trying to enjoy herself, but she was too frustrated. She couldn’t even give her full effort in throwing Veronica a double-fisted fuck-off by staying with Jason. It wasn’t lost on him.
“You still mad?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? What’s the big deal? Ditch that loser.”
“She’s not a loser. She’s my best friend.”
“She’s not your mother,” he pointed out. “Does she get to call the shots? Does Andrews? Does Reggie?” he laughed. “God. That was classic.”
“I’m sorry they did that. I don’t know what their deal was, Jason.”
“What do you think?” he teased.
“I don’t know,” she muttered.
“What don’t you know? They wanted to step with you.”
“Please! That’s ridiculous. Arch came with Ronnie.”
“And? That’s enough reason right there for him to come looking for something better, so he was looking for you.”
“Stop it, Jay,” she warned again.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Don’t get me started on Mantle.”
“I won’t. I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Why not?”
“We hate each other! We always have.”
“Didn’t look that way earlier.”
“I made him hurt his hand.”
“I heard. Should’ve aimed for his head.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“That’s because you’re too nice.” She hated hearing that, no matter how many times people told her.
“Whatever.”
*
“I’m so pissed right now.”
“Chill, Ronnie.”
“No! Don’t tell me to chill out! She’s doing this to get back at me!”
“For what?”
“Never mind,” Veronica snarled under her breath. She pouted at the dance floor as though she could will Betty away from Jason. Archie made an exasperated sound. “Hey,” she mentioned, thinking of something. “Why did you go out there?”
“Uh… I dunno. I just… thought you wanted to talk to Betty.”
“So why did you stay out there?”
“I didn’t!”
“Yes, you did.”
“Ron…” he tsked dismissively. “I wasn’t out there that long.”
“Why were you out there?” she pressed.
He wavered, wanting to give her an easy excuse, but his ears turned pink, a sure sign of his discomfiture. Archie told himself that he just had his friend Betty’s interests at heart, but it was hard when that was a lie.
He’d noticed Betty more than he wanted to. He had for a long time, and it blurred the line between what he wanted and what he already had. Making it even harder was Betty showing up to the dance looking sexy enough to make him stand up at attention in his Dockers.
He was dating Veronica Lodge, his crush since junior high, the star of his wet dreams. Archie was the envy of all his friends and enemies alike. He’d be a fool to even look anywhere else and spoil a good thing.
So why was Betty Cooper turning his head? What was it about her that made him have naughty thoughts about Riverdale High’s “Nice Girl?”
Maybe it was because she was cute, but plenty of girls were cute. She was nice. She was frequently the loudest voice in his cheering section and always did him favors. Maybe it was the way he always caught her staring after him with those big, liquid blue eyes, whenever Archie dared himself to glimpse back one last time. Maybe he was addicted to the shy smile and the way she ducked, then grinned at him again before she went back to what she was doing.
Maybe… in her own way, Betty was taboo. That one little variable that he hadn’t considered up until now, watching her dance with Jason, and watching how pissed off Ronnie got when her best friend deserted her, albeit briefly…
… was that Betty was his girlfriend’s best friend, and that should have made her off-limits.
Should have.
Guilt poured into him as he imagined kissing Betty Cooper long and hard, running his hands over her body through the slick blue fabric and tasting her throat.
“I asked you a question.” Veronica’s impatient tone and narrowed brown eyes snapped him back to attention.
“Wanna go back out?” he offered. She didn’t look pacified.
“If you answer my question.”
“What? What question? It’s no big deal. I was just…”
“Just what?”
“…just gonna ask her if she had change for a five,” he hedged. To an extent, it worked; Veronica rolled her eyes and sighed instead of smacking him.
“What else is new. Always broke,” she mused. Archie didn’t know whether to be insulted that she agreed with his lie, or relieved that he’d distracted her from his slip-up and wandering eye.
“Are we good? You over it?”
“I’m over it.” She waggled a finger at his nose. “Don’t do it again.”
“Pffft… me?” His shrug was exaggerated, and she sailed slightly ahead of him back onto the dance floor, straight to the center. He devoted his attention to her, but his ears were pink. Archie narrowly escaped disaster.
*
“You’re coming with us, right, Bets?”
“Nancy and Chuck are my ride,” Betty explained, but Jason gave her a long-suffering roll of his green eyes. His hand when he took hers was warm and insistent.
“You don’t have to go home with them,” he pointed out. “I can give you a ride. And it’s too early. We’re gonna have an after party at Cedric’s.” Betty wrinkled her nose slightly.
“No thanks, Jay. Not tonight.”
“Aw, c’mon!” Jason gave her his best puppy dog look, and she giggled despite herself. “You look too hot to go home yet.”
“I have curfew.”
“No one has that strict a curfew,” he argued. It was already ten forty-five, and students were already squinting as the lights came back up in the gym and the music shut off suddenly while they were mid-dance. It was disorienting and disappointing; Betty secretly wished she’d had the chance to dance with Archie.
For a moment, she had a sudden flash of memory, feeling herself pulled back to the night of the eighth grade dance. She remembered the feel of Reggie’s shirt beneath her cheek and the scent of his deodorant and breath mints. He’d felt warm and solid, and for someone who made her life miserable, how did he know how to hold her?
Dolores was lingering in the lobby, holding him captive – holding his good hand, she corrected herself – while she chatted with her friends. He smiled politely but looked bored and distracted.
“So how about it?”
“Huh?”
“Come with us.”
“No,” she told him flatly, not realizing how rude she sounded. “Not this time, Jay.” He looked deflated.
“Then when?”
“I don’t know,” she hedged. “But thanks for the dance. I had a good time.”
“Then let me take you out.” Her eyes flitted away for a moment, but he leaned in toward her, squeezing her hand. “C’mon, Bets. Gimme a chance, here.” She watched disbelievingly as he lifted her hand to his lips, steaming her knuckles. His green eyes pinned hers as he mouthed one, and she shivered. Goosebumps ran up her arms and down her back.
“Okay,” she murmured almost inaudibly.
“You’ll come with us?” Jason perked up, but she shot him down again.
“No. But you can call me.” He whipped out his iPhone and started pulling up his contacts, all one-handed. He never let go of her.
Veronica searched the lobby for her bestie and froze when she saw her blonde head from over the crowd, leaning in toward one of her two worst enemies.
“Hell, no,” she muttered under her breath. That Pembroke scum was at it again! “BETTY!” she cried out, waving to get her attention. Betty spun toward the sound of her voice.
“Shit. I’d better go,” she told him.
“Your digits,” he reminded her anxiously.
“Right. Digits. Five-five-five, four-five-six-seven.”
“Solid. Let me change your mind. Come with me.” He snapped his phone shut and grinned at her.
“Sorry.” Her look appealed to him. Their easy rapport, however, was short-lived.
“Jay, what’re you doing over here? Let’s go to Ceddy’s,” Cheryl whined as she approached. Her eyes raked over Betty with amusement and disgust. “Nice shoes. Trés 1982. Were they having a red tag sale at Goodwill?”
“Get outta here, Cher,” Jason muttered, shooing her away.
“I was just leaving,” Betty told Jason, ignoring his twin. She squeezed his hand and reluctantly let go it. “Bye.”
“I haven’t given you my number yet.”
“Call me,” she suggested. Betty wasn’t going down that road. Heaven only knew what would happen if she called him at home and his sister answered. And it felt nice to be chased for a change. Call her old-fashioned.
Betty headed toward the exit, but Veronica stopped her, finally catching up to her. “What the hell? I was looking for you.”
“I was only gone for a minute.”
“So what’s the deal?”
“Nothing. No biggie.”
“Why was he talking to you?”
“He invited me to an after party at Cedric’s.” Veronica made a face.
“Ugh. You told him to go to hell, right?”
“Not in so many words, but yeah. I can’t stand Cedric.”
“Good riddance. You should have told him you were going to a much better one at my place, anyway.” Veronica looped her arm through Betty’s and started pulling her toward the exit. “I can’t wait! And I can’t wait to get out of these shoes…”
“I can’t even stay that long,” Betty complained. “It’s not that long until twelve.”
“Awwww. Tell your parents you want to stay over.”
“You’re having boys over.”
“Only until one.”
“My dad will have a stroke.”
“Daddy will probably throw everyone out before then, anyway.” Veronica pouted, looking long-suffering and deprived, even though she had the longest curfew of any of Betty’s other friends.
“Betty, c’mon, girl,” Nancy interjected. “Chuck’s waiting in the car.”
“I’m just saying goodbye to everyone,” she apologized. “I’ll be right there. Everyone loved my hair,” she added. Nancy beamed.
“Knew they would, girl. You rocked it.”
“I forget where he even parked.”
“Just come with me,” Veronica argued. “You’re coming to my house, anyway.”
“I want to go back to Nancy’s for my car and the rest of my stuff and change into something else first,” Betty reminded her.
“I’ve got clothes,” Veronica huffed.
“I don’t want to just leave my stuff at Nancy’s. And like I said, I have to go get my car.”
*HONK!*
“Shoot. There he is now. Make up your mind, woman. Train’s leavin’ the station,” Nancy prodded.
“Ron, I’ll go with Nancy and Chuck. I’ll be at your place in a few minutes.”
“Don’t take too long.”
“I won’t.” She gave her friend a hug and followed Nancy as she trotted toward the circular driveway in the courtyard. They could already hear Chuck’s music blaring from the windows, bass-heavy and rattling the chrome of the adjacent cars. He honked again, and Nancy yelled back.
“I’m coming, already, boy, quit making so much rack-OWWWW! SHIT!” Betty let out a small cry as she watched Nancy go down, ankle twisting as she fell off the curb in her high heels. Her earlier cheerful mood evaporated as she dashed for Nancy while Chuck turned off the ignition, freeing everyone’s ears.
“Dang, baby, you okay?”
“No. Ow. Ow. Oww-hoo-hooooo…” Nancy whimpered, sniffling.
“It’s okay, Nance, c’mon, we’ve got you,” Betty assured her, hating that her friend was on the verge of tears. Nancy Woods never cried and had nerves of steel, so if she was close to losing it, she had to be really hurt. Nancy yelled again as she tested her weight on her left foot, with their assistance on either side.
“OW!”
“Is she all right?” A male voice behind them grew nearer, along with a rush of footsteps in hard shoes. “What happened?”
“I missed the curb,” Nancy moaned. “I twisted my damn ankle.”
“Let her sit down.” Betty wasn’t expecting Reggie, and he nudged her out of the way, shouldering his way beneath the crook of Nancy’s arm instead.
“Sheesh,” Betty muttered, but she was grateful, since Reggie was stronger than she was. He lifted Nancy up while Chuck opened the car door and moved the seat back to give her more room to stretch out. He set her down gently and she eased back, but it was clear that she was still in pain.
“Nancy, what happened?” Veronica inquired, catching up to them and looking just as alarmed.
“Fell down, went splat,” she deadpanned. “With a growing audience,” she added bitterly.
“Sorry,” Ronnie offered. “Should we ask for some ice?”
“I’ll get it,” Betty decided, and she bolted toward the gym as quickly as her heels would carry her. The next few minutes were a blur. Miss Phlipps managed to get a Ziploc bag out of the cafeteria, and Betty promptly filled it with ice, wrapping it in paper towels. Nancy hissed as it was laid on her ankle.
“Thanks, girl.” Chuck rapidly dialed Nancy’s house.
“Nancy took a fall. Yeah, she’s right here. Want me to take her to prompt care?” He nodded in response to his questions on the other end of the line. “Here. Talk to ‘em. Let’s get going.”
“Bets, maybe you want to go with Ronnie,” Nancy suggested. “This is gonna take a while, and you need to get home.”
“I’ll drive her,” Reggie automatically volunteered.
“You will?” Betty stared, stunned. “But-“
“I can give her a ride,” Ronnie reminded her.
“Well… I guess I can go with Reg,” Betty considered, surprised that the words were coming out of her mouth. “I just need to get my car from Nancy’s. And my stuff.”
“Where do you live?” Reggie asked Nancy, leaning in toward her from the doorway of the car.
“Maple street. Number seventeen. Yellow house with brick steps.” Nancy looked relieved. “You’re fine with giving Betty a ride?”
“Yup. No trouble.” The ball of tension in Betty’s stomach started to uncoil slightly, but she was still on edge. The reason why hit her moments later as she heard Dolores’ voice sailing over the sounds of car engines and radios in the parking lot.
“Reggie! Let’s go!” She looked confused and slightly annoyed as she approached, until Reggie stepped forward and took her hand.
“Nancy got hurt. I was just making sure everything was fine.” Her pretty face was wreathed in concern and pity.
“Awww, poor mami,” she soothed, reaching in to lay a hand on Nancy’s shoulder.
“I’m fine, girl. I’m gonna go get my ankle looked at in a minute.” Nancy leaned around them to address Betty. “When you get to my place, give me a call, Betty.”
“I will.”
“This wasn’t how things were supposed to pan out,” Nancy muttered. Betty leaned down and hugged her fiercely.
“At least we looked good,” she assured her. She waved to Chuck as they pulled out of the lot. When Betty looked up, Veronica was already gone, which irked her. So there was really no way out.
Reggie was her ride home. And she was a third wheel.
Oh, joy.
*
“You fine back there, Bets?”
“Yup.” The back seat of his car was actually slightly cramped, and she was at the mercy of his gym bag, sneakers and notebooks that he had tossed back there, too. She could have sworn Dolores shot her a smug look from the edge of the rearview mirror, but she ignored it. She tried to ignore their conversation and focus on the fact that Jason might call her.
“Where does she live?” Dolores asked Reggie, acting like Betty wasn’t there.
“We’re heading to Nancy’s,” Reggie replied. “It’ll only take a minute.”
“If that,” Betty chimed in, and she tried to sound easygoing about it. She caught Reggie’s eye in his mirror but quickly looked away.
“Are we going to Ronnie’s?” Dolores inquired. That caught Betty’s attention.
“You two were planning to go to Ron’s?”
“She invited us,” Reggie shrugged.
“Shit,” Betty muttered. “Would have saved everybody some time if I’d just gone with her, then, except I needed to come back for my car.”
“Wow,” Reggie agreed. “Wasted trip.”
“No. It’s no big deal. I want to stop in and see Nancy’s folks, anyway.”
It didn’t surprise Reggie to hear that. That was Betty, always thinking of other people ahead of her own convenience. “They’ll be worried,” she added.
“What time did you tell your folks you’d be home?” Reggie prodded.
“They told me I had to be home by midnight.”
“Before the coach turns back to a pumpkin, huh?” Reggie smirked back at her from the mirror, and Betty narrowed her eyes, shooting him a disgusted look. Dolores laughed, making Betty want to kick her seat and pretend it was an accident.
At least Dolores had her Prince Charming, Betty grumbled inwardly, for that night, anyway. Betty gave her three, maybe four more dates with him before he got tired of her. Typical Reggie. Betty grew engrossed in the trees and street lights whizzing past them as they headed toward Nancy’s side of town. Reggie’s radio was on low volume, thankfully, giving her ears a break and something else to focus on than Dolores’ prattling from the front seat.
Betty’s attempts at ignoring them both gave Reggie the opportunity to steal looks at her in the back seat. She looked like she had something on her mind. She also still looked beautiful, skin slightly flushed from the chilly night air. Several loose blonde tendrils hung around her face, working their free from her careful up-do. She snuggled down into her jacket and popped a Tic-Tac absently, occasionally mouthing the words to a song that wasn’t his favorite, but that would no doubt give him an earworm from now on.
They met eyes in the mirror again.
“You’re about to miss it,” Betty informed him.
“Huh?”
“Turn left. We’re here.” Reggie slowed down belatedly and made the turn onto Maple. “Number seventeen,” Betty reminded him.
“Cool.”
“Thanks for the ride. G’night, Dolores.”
“Night,” Dolores told her cheerfully, glad to be rid of her and doing little to hide it.
“Hold it,” Reggie told Betty.
“Why?” Betty felt confused. Reggie put the car in park and left the engine running, then turned on his highbeams. He surprised her even further by getting out of the car, coming around to her side and opening the rear door. He reached down with his good hand and helped her climb out of the car; his grip was strong and warm. “Thanks.” She expected him to get back into the car.
Wrong again. “C’mon.” He motioned for her to walk ahead of him, and even laid his palm at the small her back protectively as they made their way to the porch. Betty felt that rush of goosebumps again, this time at Reggie’s thoughtfulness.
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” He opened the screen door for Betty to let her knock. She felt his highbeams on her back and his eyes on her face.
“You guys can go.”
“In a minute.” Betty heard footsteps inside and wasn’t surprised to see Mrs. Woods looking worried when she answered the door.
“Nancy told you what happened?” Betty pressed.
“Yes, she did. Is she all right?”
“Uh-huh. Chuck’s taking her to prompt care already.”
“She took a fall off the curb,” Reggie explained. “She was all right. Betty got her some ice.”
“Thank you for doing that,” Nancy’s mother agreed, even though she still looked stressed.
“I wanted to come in and get my things before I go,” Betty said.
“That’s fine.” She stared at Reggie quizzically.
“I’ll get out of your way. It was nice meeting you.” He reached out and shook her hand, and she beamed before letting Betty into the house. “Later, Bets.”
“Bye.” She watched him lope back to his car, and Betty noticed Dolores glaring at her from the passenger seat. Oops…
Betty and Mrs. Woods both waved to Reggie from the front door as he pulled out of the driveway, and she promptly headed upstairs toward Nancy’s room. “I won’t be long,” she promised.
“Take your time. Want a cup of cocoa?”
“Oh, no, thank you. You don’t have to go to the trouble.”
“I’m having one,” she cajoled.
“That’s okay. I’m good.”
“You made it back all right, Betty?” Mr. Woods stopped by the doorway to Nancy’s room while his wife bustled around downstairs. He looked concerned.
“Yup.”
“Who gave you your ride here?”
“Reggie Mantle. He’s a friend of ours.”
“A friend, huh? How good of a friend?” Betty felt embarrassed at the implication in his tone.
“We know him from the football team. And basketball,” she qualified. “And he lives down the street from me.”
“He wasn’t dance date material?”
“Nope.” She flushed to the roots of her hair and turned away to bundle her hair styling goods into her bag. She chucked makeup into it and traded her pumps for her comfortable sneakers, relieved at how good they felt.
“That’s a shame. So that left you free to play the field, huh?” He offered her that as a consolation, and she returned his smile, nodding.
“Yup.”
“Good. At your age, that’s how it’s supposed to be.” Then he shook his head. “Try telling that to my hardheaded daughter. She’s obsessed with that boy.”
“Awwww!”
“You know it, and I know it. Can’t slip anything by me.”
“Nope.”
Betty preceded him downstairs and fished in her purse for her car keys. “Y’all haven’t had anything to drink?” Mr. Woods pried.
“No, sir.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
“Tell my mother I said hi when you get home,” Mrs. Woods told her.
“I’m not heading directly home. I was going to go to Ron’s.”
“It’s getting late,” Mr. Woods mentioned. “It’s already eleven-thirty.”
“It’s that late?” Betty’s jaw dropped. “Shoot! Shoot, shoot, shoot…”
“You’re better off heading home,” Mrs. Woods pointed out. “Or at least check in first.”
They were right. “Okay. Bye, it was nice seeing you. Thanks for letting me stop by.” She hugged Nancy’s mother and hurried out the door. The porch light didn’t go out until she started the ignition. Betty fumed as she waited at the intersection for the green light.
She could try to plead her case to her parents for a little extra time, but it was a lost cause. Her whole night was gone.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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