"Clifford!" The shrill voices echoes off the empty halls of Thornhill: "Come immediately!"
"There's a new girl in town," Jason announces at dinner. He's asked how his first day back has been going. Of course.
Cheryl pushes a piece of salad around with her fork. She didn't finish French yet. Alas, knowing the consequences of skipping dinner time, she's chosen to postpone it until after this ghastly gathering.
"Really?," their mother asks with exuberant interest. Since Jason's broken up with his ex-girlfriend the Blossom matriarch has been fearing he'd get back together with the girl just as quickly. Riverdale is a small town. Choices are scarce. Any alternative is welcome.
Jason smiles. "Yeah. I didn't really get to meet her yet, but Cher did."
"Is that so, Cheryl?"
Cheryl meets her mother's eyes. She knows better than to shrug in disinterest. "We talked at lunch. I invited her to tryouts."
Keeping it brief is the key to lying low.
"You did?," Jason wonders. Given her status as Queen Bee of the school Cheryl isn't known to go around inviting people to join her team. People are constantly at her heels begging to get on. Not the other way around.
"She sat at the top of the elite's pyramid at her school," Cheryl explains. At her family's radio silence reaction she adds: "She's pretty."
Her mother's eyebrows draw together as she frowns. "You're not supposed to call other girls 'pretty', Cheryl Marjorie Blossom. You're a girl, not a boy."
Cheryl doesn't get what that's supposed to mean. Her middle name has been used and that's a major flag going up –, she apologizes.
"I heard that, too," Jason seconds, his hand finding his sister's under the table. Their fingers intertwine. Although he doesn't know what exactly happened between his twin and their parents during the two weeks of his rich boy Rumspringa, he knows it wasn't good. And it already wasn't good before.
The way in which their mother takes extra long to chew tells Cheryl that she won't be able to finish French tonight. The way in which their father avoids eye contact tells her she'll probably get some gift tomorrow. Maybe it will be the new Self Portrait dress. At least that would be worth it.
Jason, unaware of what's transpiring between the three, is desperate to keep the conversation going. "Well. I'll definitely track her down tomorrow."
"That's a good idea," their mother agrees, looking up from her salad. Perhaps there's still a chance for France.
"What's her name again, Cher?"
Cheryl blinks. "Veronica Lodge."
Their mother's eyes twitch. "Go to your room, Cheryl."
Cheryl sighs. She pushes her chair back, gets up, presses a kiss to her daddy's temple and hurries up the stairs. If she's lucky she might just get a few more pages done before her mother comes up.
"Penelope?" Even after ten years of marriage he refuses to address his wife by anything other than her given name.
"In here."
He follows the voice to their son's bathroom.
"What's the matter?"
His wife doesn't answer. She just points to the bath their four-year-olds are sharing.
"Oh," he says.
Cheryl waits until everyone else has vanished to change. Thank God for her long hair. It provides a perfectly normal explanation as to why she needs a hundred strokes to comb it. She sighs.
Sometimes she wonders whether life would be different if she didn't. If she just changed with everybody else. If they saw. If they told.
Then she remembers that nobody fears the girl with bruises all over her body, and keeps on brushing her hair instead.
Cheryl pulls off her HBIC shirt and inspects herself in the locker's mirror. Two new bruises. That's actually not so bad. And although her father missed out on all the hints regarding the dress she wanted, the heart shaped Marc Jacobs bag is still a lovely gesture.
Of course shutting this down once and for all would be the kinder gesture, but with her current track record any kind of kindness is appreciated.
Suddenly the door flies open, and the sound of it clashing harshly against the wall draws Cheryl out of her mind and back into reality.
Reality, in this particular case, being Betty goody-two-shoes Cooper, who's standing only a few feet away from Cheryl, staring bluntly.
"What are you looking at, Jack Torrance?" Cheryl snaps, not moving at all to cover her body. The more she'll try to hide it the more suspicious it will look. One time she wore a bikini and Josie almost called social services. Cheryl's been sticking to one pieces ever since.
"Nothing, but... these look painful," Betty replies uncertainly, gesturing to Cheryl's stomach.
"There was a bulge in the carpet. I fell," Cheryl says as if it's the most logical thing in the world.
"Onto stones...?"
Cheryl rolls her eyes. "Daddy fired her. We'll get a new help. Not that you'll ever familiarize with them," she informs the blonde that's been annoying her ever since she tried to sit next to her on the first day of school when – obviously – Cheryl was going to sit next to her twin.
Her clothes are neatly folded on the bottom of the locker. She pulls out her skirt and puts it on. As she straightens up to get her top she catches Betty's eyes in the locker of her mirror.
"Jesus Christ, Count Starekular, what is it?," she demands to know, whirling around once more.
"Your shoulder..."
Cheryl can't stop her hand from reaching up and touching the one wound that's never going to heal.
"I burned myself with a curler when I was four," she explains. She's not sure why. It's not what happened, and she knows. The look on Betty's face tells her that the blonde knows, too.
"Your daughter is very special," the doctor says after he's done with his examinations.
Cheryl curls into her mother's chest. The last days have been scary. She doesn't understand why Jason couldn't come along. Usually, they do everything together. She just wants to go home.
"Her mark is one of a kind. It was very easy to find her match."
Clifford's eyes lighten with hope. "So her soulmate's already been registered?"
"Oh yes. She got her mark on her her fourth birthday, just over half a year ago. Her parents–"
"She?," Penelope interrupts harshly.
Even at four years old Cheryl can feel that something isn't right.
At lunch, Jason nudges her in the side to inform her of the two girls approaching their table.
"If it isn't Blair and Serena," Cheryl comments, "Good for you to drop Nate and Chuck, but where's Eric? Pulling a season 5?"
"We're here to talk, Cheryl," Veronica informs her.
"Well, I'm here to eat."
"You've barely touched your food."
Mother would be proud.
"All the more reason for me to stay," Cheryl retorts, dipping one of her fries in mayonnaise before she swallows it whole. It hurts.
"Please, Cheryl. It's important!" Betty Cooper. Always the beggar never the begged.
Cheryl rolls her eyes. She pushes her tray across the table towards Ginger. She'll take care of it.
"This better be good," she says, as she follows the brunette and the blonde out of the cafeteria into uncertainty.
"Cherry, darling, come here for a moment," her mother begs.
They're in the kitchen, baking cookies. They've never done this before, and Cheryl's excited. Mommy even put her hair up in a real baker's bun. She just wishes Jason was here. But he's out with daddy, shooting ducks. And that's nothing for girls.
"Yes, mommy?" She beams at her mother, the greatest, nicest and wisest woman she knows.
"I believe our cookies are almost done. I think we should check on them. But careful, it's hot."
"Okay, mommy," Cheryl agrees. Because she's her mom, and mother knows best. The four-year-old takes an extra cautious step back when her mother opens the oven. She won't get hurt.
The smell is amazing. Cheryl can't believe they did this themselves!
"Can I taste one, mommy?"
"They're probably too hot, we'd better let them cool off..." True to her word, Cheryl's mother puts the tray down on the marble counter top. Cheryl gets on her tippy toes, but unfortunately she's still to short to see anything.
Her mother smiles at her. She does that often, but something about this smile is off. It's different. "Come here," she says.
Cheryl opens her arms, ready to be picked up and put down safely on the counter top. Her mother lifts her up towards the top spot and then –
Then she just drops her.
Cheryl screams. And then the world goes black around her.
"Okay, ladies. While I enjoy seeing that my training has effects on your bodies, I really don't get why you had to interrupt my precious lunchtime to show me this," Cheryl says. Because a) she doesn't and b) she's uncomfortable with Veronica standing there in her underwear. (And c) she doesn't know why. Nakedness never bothered her before).
Something about her is different and Cheryl can't help but: – stare.
She also can't put her finger on what it is, and damn, that's annoying. With her 4.0 GPA she's used to finding every solution almost immediately.
"Don't you get it, Cheryl?," Betty inquires, pointing to Veronica's shoulder as if she's advertising Weetabix. "That's her soulmark."
Cheryl's face twitches. "Yes, thank you. I've taken advanced biology." She really doesn't know where they're going with this.
"Cheryl, this is a spider!"
"Really? You really had me thinking it was a portrait of Tobey Maguire there for a second," the redhead deadpans. She turns on her heel, ready to leave this shit show. Oh well. It was entertaining while it lasted.
"No!" Betty almost screams as she leaps in front of Cheryl. "No," she repeats, softer this time, her hand on Cheryl's arm and – ugh – she's looking her directly into the eyes! "Please stay, Cheryl. It's important."
Hearing these words for the second time within the hour still doesn't make them true to Cheryl. She snorts, annoyed, but remains. It's not like she's going to eat anything anyway if she'd made it back to lunch. And if they totally freak her out she'll have all the more reason to kick them off her squad. Win win, so to speak.
"Yesterday, when I saw you in the locker room..." Betty begins, but Veronica cuts in, obviously not up for the long sob story.
"Betty thinks you're my soulmate."
Cheryl blinks, her eyes wide when she finally keeps them open. "What?!"
"Your marks match," the blonde explains hastily. As if there's any chance she can recover from this.
Catching Cheryl in the locker room, seeing her bruises? That's one thing. But making fun of Cheryl because she has no soulmark, no soulmate, just ugly scars? That's a whole different story.
"I don't have a mark," Cheryl informs them harshly, "And now you don't have an extracurricular. So I propose you better find one before Weatherbee catches wind of your shortcomings and puts you up for scouts. I also expect your uniforms to be returned within the day."
Then she pushes past the barrier of besties and hurries off. She makes it to the girl's bathroom on the next floor, finds a stall, locks herself in, and cries.
"I brought you these," Jason says.
Cheryl's lying belly down on the hospital bed. Her back's wrapped in bandages and her left cheek is squished against the mattress. "Thank you."
"They're really good! Much better than Reese's!," Jason continues. She can tell he's excited. She's mostly exhausted, but happy that he's visiting her.
Outside their parents are having an adult conversation with her doctor. She can see the doctor shake his head, sadly. Her parents nod, a solemn expression on their faces.
Her back hurts.
When Cheryl comes out of the bathroom after what might have been an hour or just a couple of minutes – who knows? – she's caught off guard by the girl leaning on the opposite wall.
She presses her lips together and turns on her heels, praying that she won't be followed. And that's saying something. Cheryl hasn't prayed since she's last baked cookies with her mother. Even back then her prayers would only fall on deaf ears. It's the same today.
"Cheryl!"
Her name being called in an attempt to stop her only adds to her determined stride towards the stairs. They'll lead her to the door, outside, her car, home–
Well. Maybe not home directly. Perhaps she'll go for a little ride. Indulge herself in acquiring the Self Portrait piece her daddy missed out on buying for her. Shopping usually helps to calm her nerves.
"Cheryl! Wait!"
She can't help but roll her eyes. When in the history of movies has anybody ever stopped when somebody called out for them to wait.
"Cheryl!" Veronica finally reaches her, and her hand gets a gentle grip on Cheryl's arm.
"What?!"
The shrill intensity catches Veronica off guard. "I–"
"Don't you think you've done enough damage for today?," Cheryl asks. She's exhausted.
"Cheryl, Betty and I–"
Another thought crosses Cheryl's mind and her eyebrows instantly knit together. "If this is some sick joke and you've taped it, Lodge, I swear..."
"No! No, no, no! We'd never do that," Veronica assures shaking her head, "Betty just wanted to help. With the scar and your brooch... She really thought you were my soulmate." The last part is not much more than a whisper. It hurts all the same.
"Well, sorry to disappoint, Mila, but you'll have to keep looking for your Ashton, 'cuz it's not me," Cheryl replies, trying to sound harsh.
Veronica wets her lower lip with her tongue. For a second Cheryl forgets to focus on the other girl's eyes. But only for a second. "Betty said that you had a scar."
"Greaaaaat." Lips forgotten, Cheryl starts walking again. "This conversation is officially over."
This time, there's no one following her, just Veronica's voice: "You know marks show, right? Even below scars they show!"
It takes two weeks before Cheryl is allowed back home. Her back is fully healed except for a spot on her right shoulder. The doctor said it will probably leave a scar. He smiled when he told her, saying it was a battle wound, something she could be proud of. Mommy went through her closet and threw out everything revealing shoulder.
Nana Rose is standing by the door as the car comes to a halt in front of Thornhill. Cheryl makes her way across the gravel, to give her a hug. Mommy pulls her back before she can.
"Careful. You don't want to hurt your shoulder any more," she says.
Cheryl stays back, because that's right, she doesn't.
Nana Rose shakes her head at the scene. "I can't believe you did this to her. She's only four, and you've already robbed her off the greatest love."
"It was an accident," mommy says between gritted.
"Sure," Nana Rose agrees. Even at four years old, Cheryl can tell she's lying.
Instead of going to town and painting it red, Cheryl heads straight home. She ignores her father's raised eyebrow and her mother's angry questions in passing, climbs up the stairs, heads straight for her room, enters, locks herself in.
She pulls her shirt off over her head. At this time of day her vanity is perfectly illuminated by sunlight. She takes a seat with her back to the mirror and pulls her hair over her shoulders so it cascades down her chest. Then she turns her head, looks.
There it is, clear as day: the tight, raised skin of her scar.
And on that scar, so light she can barely make it out: a little spider.
For the second time that day, Cheryl just cries, ignoring her mother's ceaseless knocking on the door. Even when Jason breaks it down upon returning home Cheryl stays unmoved.
"Cheryl," her twin begs, taking her hands in his, "Cheryl, are you okay? Talk to me. Please, Cher!"
She closes her eyes. Maybe it's just a dream. When she opens her eyes the little spider stares right back at her. She turns her head around to face her brother.
"Mommy said it was an accident," she says.
Their mother, standing by the door along with their father and Nana Rose, draws in a sharp breath.
"It wasn't an accident."
Cheryl adjusts her black one-shoulder blouse and straightens down the red skirt she's paired with it. Yes, she's wearing black because that's someone's trademark color. But she can't very well restrain herself to red in her lipstick choice only.
"Game time," she announces to her reflection, and then game time is on.
She finds them where she's expected them to be: outside, sitting by the big maple tree. (Because of course there's a big maple tree on the school grounds.) The gang's all here and for a moment Cheryl wonders whether she should rather wait for a bit more privacy. Then she remembers that keeping things private is how this whole mess started.
Kevin Keller sees her first. Their eyes meet it and conversation ceases. Betty blushes, obviously uncomfortable about the happenings of the other day. If only she knew.
"Hey, Cheryl," Veronica greets, and it sounds almost like a question.
"Veronica," Cheryl replies beaming, "May I sit?"
Lucky for her Veronica is positioned perfectly for the plan she's about to set into motion. Even the sun is working in her favor. Maybe this is payback for all those years of rain.
"Uhm, sure," Veronica agrees, shifting rightwards on the bench. Cheryl takes the seat offered and smiles at them.
"I wanted to say sorry about yesterday," she says easily and Kevin spits his chocolate milk into Archie's face. Cheryl Blossom apologizing? That is unheard of.
"Get over yourself, Damian Leigh," Cheryl comments.
"Dammit, Kevin! My shirt!" Archie rises from his seat, dripping with the former milky contents of Kevin's mouth.
Kevin, of course, apologizes profusely. He even offers the redhead a spare shirt – because, obviously, Kevin has spare shirts in his locker. And they wander off together, Archie still cursing and Kevin still apologizing.
Now the only people left at the table are Betty, Veronica and Cheryl. Not perfect, but definitely good enough for the latter's plan to work.
"As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted," she begins, "I am here to apologize about the other day. We touched upon some subjects that are generally avoided within my everyday life and I reacted badly. About that I'm sorry. I also want to apologize to you, Veronica, specifically." She pulls her hair over her left shoulder in turn exposing her right. "You were correct, soulmarks show even beneath scars."
Betty's jaw drops so far it looks unhealthy. Veronica just stares. Cheryl can feel the hairs on her arms standing from nerves.
Then slowly, Veronica lifts her hand towards Cheryl's back. Her index finger lands upon her skin and it is like electricity strikes as Veronica traces the little, faint spider.
She keeps her hand as she leans forward, meeting the redhead's eyes directly. Brown meeting brown. Same same, but different.
"So I guess this means I'm obligated to follow you on twitter now, Cheryl Bombshell?"
Her soulmate's cautious smile breaks out into a Cheshire cat grin. "Oh you betcha, Veronica Lodge."
A/N: It's official. I'm part of the fandom and a die hard Cheronica shipper now. :D Let me know what you think! :)
Extra note on the AU stuff:
- don't really know whether Penelope ever did more than slap Cheryl, but usually parents who use physical punishment regularly have fuzzy boundaries... so well. In this story she starts abusing her after she finds out that Cheryl will have a female soulmate, making her a failure in her mother's eyes. And her father is kind of helpless.
- Jason/Polly pregnancy didn't happen, but Jason still went on a two week rich boy Rumspringa with her before breaking up
- since Jason's alive, he's Cheryl's go to best friend.
- the story starts either on the day of tryouts or some other random day of Cheerleading practice. Make your pick.
- soulmates are kinda rare in the universe. Out of the Blossoms Cheryl's the only one having a soulmate. There's a databank set up to match soulmates as soon as their marks show. Cheryl was supposed to be registered, but with the fresh wound the doctor said it wasn't possible any longer. That soulmarks show beneath scars is a more recent discovery.