I can't remember the last time I really smiled. The last time I laughed, felt happy. I love this town—I grew up here. But what people choose not to talk about makes the dark corners seem more like dark streets, dark buildings, dark people. Everything is shadowed by a certain amount of somewhat healthy fear and awareness. Maybe even a bit unhealthy. No one would admit it, though, not publicly anyway. It couldn't help but cross my mind, rearranging comic books on the racks by the window.

The store was empty. Only myself to keep me company. It was the last shift before the first day of school after summer vacation. Sure, I was excited to have a job. Though Ben wouldn't agree this was the best of Riverdale's job market. I suppose he's just being a good legal guardian, watching out for me, like an over-protective parent would. But I didn't need protecting. Not here. Not on the South side. Here, I know what's what.

It's been two years since the car accident that killed my parents, and I still don't know the North side like I do the South. The pathetic excuse for a bell above the door rang, and I let out a sigh. "We close in five minutes," I announced, to whomever happened to be walking in. I put the small stack of comics in my hand into a random basket on the rack and started making my way to the front counter. Which, technically, was only about six feet away.

When I got there, I found a familiar head of fiery hair leaning into the glass of the counter, looking at the rare editions in the case. A smile pushed its way across my lips, rounding the far end of the counter. "Well, look what the cat dragged in," I pressed my palm into the glass, swinging a little as I followed the curve of the counter. "It couldn't be the boy I've barely seen since the start of summer break, could it?"

Archie perked up, resting his palms against the glass, smiling as I approached with a light skip. "Hey."

"Hey," I replied, showing more teeth than I cared to count.

"How was your day?" he asked, innocently. I exhaled, sliding my forearms onto the glass counter top. It wasn't normal—the way I changed around Archie Andrews. But, what can I say? I was in love. I was in love with the ginger jock I saw walking by my house every morning for school and never talked to. How did we get together? Let's just say that part is reserved for my diary. For now.

My head fell onto my right shoulder. "Honestly? Boring. I've had maybe three customers in as just as many hours," I confessed, tiredly. "Please—please—tell me yours was way better."

"If pouring concrete counts," he chuckled.

I shook my head, "No, no it does not. Want to know what you're doing tonight?"

Archie slid his crossed arms onto the counter top to mirror my position, resting his chin on his wrists. "I have a feeling you're gonna tell me all about it."

"You're taking me to Pop's after shift," I lifted my head, edging forward on the counter an inch. "And then we're going to sit in Ben's convertible in the garage and watch Casablanca while eating desert and talking about how terrible the first day back in school is going to be."

"What's desert?"

"Ice cream. Ben and Jerry's, if we're getting specific."

Archie smiled softly. "Sounds like a plan. I missed you."

"I missed you, too, Arch," I returned the smile.

He lifted his head, and I nudged myself forward on the tips of my Converse. Our lips met in the middle. It never got old, kissing him. I wished it never ended. Maybe if it hadn't, I wouldn't feel how I do now? After my shift ended and I closed up MLJ Comics for the night, I sent Archie a text as I climbed onto my bike. I said I would meet him at Pop's in ten, and he replied with a 'see you there' and a heart emoji.

Me, being the hopelessly in love hopeless romantic, bit my bottom lip to hide a squeal and started pedaling. He was there when I arrived. He held the door, let me order first, noticed I was wearing a new set of odd-ball earrings. They were nails, to make it look like I hammered them through my ear lobes. Ben didn't think that was very funny. But Archie thought they were cool. I wasn't really looking. Not at him.

I wasn't seeing Archie Andrews. I was seeing the picture in my mind. The fairy tale I'd been building since the first time I saw him. With all the gentlemanly things he'd done for me that night, how could I see anything else? Then suddenly I wasn't the only one not seeing. Suddenly he wasn't looking at me at all. His eyes were adrift over my shoulder. I was mid sip when I noticed it. Having the couth of a walnut, I immediately twisted in the booth seat.

And there she was. The girl that would ruin my fairy tale. Even though I reasoned her to be just a pretty face, an after thought, she would single-handedly bring down my entire concept of reality without lifting one manicured finger. I turned back around in my seat. He was still looking at her. My eye brows lowered, drawing together in a furrow as I leaned back against the booth, taking my hand off my glass. I retracted both of them to my lap.

This was something new. I'd never seen him do such a thing. Not with me sitting right in front of him. When we were in the same room, he looked at me. Not an unidentified girl walking in wearing a cap of a coat. I cleared my throat pointedly, but it did nothing. The hot-headed, unreformed South sider in me began to see what I was seeing, and she was just as offended by this gesture as I was. I knew I would be overreacting if I raised my voice.

I would be overreacting if I did anything. That's what I told myself. Eventually, he'll ignore her, and go back to lavishing me with compliments and acting like I was his princess. Me, his girlfriend. Not a girl he'd been staring at for less than sixty seconds. So I stayed quiet, biting my tongue. My eyes shifted up upon hearing her voice, right by our table. She was asking about an order from Pop as he passed, lingering in that stance even after he passed her.

"Hi," she said, semi-aimlessly stepping closer to us. "How are the onion rings here?"

"So good," Archie instantly replied.

I stayed quiet, watching him. He seemed lit up like a Christmas tree looking at her. It made me wonder if that was how he looked when he was looking at me. "Can we get some onion rings, too, please?" she turned to look at the front counter. Pop obliged and she thanked him before turning back to us, my worst nightmare unfolding before my eyes still. "My mom and I just moved here."

That was the next thing I heard. I didn't catch anything else. I was too consumed with a rising nausea in my stomach as I began to question every decision I ever made, every outfit I ever wore to impress him, every extra bit of makeup I tried on. It all seemed so pointless. So worthless. "From where?" Archie asked.

"New York," she answered. "Do you guys go to Riverdale?"

"Yeah, we're Sophomores," Archie nodded.

He was all too chipper to talk to her. To keep staring at her. It was safe to say, at this point, I'd had enough. I cleared my throat, pulled my bag strap onto my shoulder. "Hey, Arch- I'm not really feeling well, so I'm just gonna head home and get some sleep," I said, before promptly sliding from the booth. He seemed to come to, blinking a few times before his eyes looked to focus on my face. He looked confused. Genuinely confused at why I was leaving.

"A-are you sure?" he asked, stammering a bit in his confusion.

I nodded, "Yeah, it's fine. I'll text you later."

It was not, under any circumstances, fine. But I smiled anyway, and walked past that boyfriend-stealer like I owned the Shoppe, right out those pearly glass doors and into the brisk gravel parking lot. That disgusting display of insecurity seemed like the worst it could get. I was wrong. But I wouldn't find out why for at least forty-eight more hours. I still had time to be insecure. I still had time.

Where does a troubled North sider go when she's wounded, you ask? Anywhere any sane person would go. The Whyte Wyrm. I didn't go for the bikers, or the aesthetic of brooding loners. I went for the company. I didn't feel troubled walking the streets of the South side alone. They were too familiar. And the pathway to the Wyrm felt like the steps to my front door. I'd been here so often lately, my feet had no choice but to memorize it.

I pushed through the unguarded door and was immediately overcome with its many scents and sights. Alcohol, musk, new leather, and gasoline. I looked drastically out of place compared to all of the tall, well built, leather-jacket-wearing Serpents. The few around when I walked in noticed me immediately. Though my clothes were North side, my face was not. Most of the bikers, I could tell, recognized me.

"Well, well, well," a familiar male voice said from the back. I glanced around, my eyes landing on a moving biker. He was walking toward the front from around the backside of a pool table. The light briefly obscured his face but there was no trouble in identifying him by voice. It was FP. "Hey. You got a minute?" I asked, taking slow steps forward.

He stepped around the pool table, coming to a stop mid-room. "Yeah. What for?"

I didn't answer, just sped up my steps. My arms clung tight around his neck and my face buried into the leather of his shoulder. He seemed surprised by my sudden display of emotions. His feet shuffled back an inch as I latched on, but he didn't push me away. It took him a second to register the gesture, it seemed. The next words he spoke were with a changed tone. "Hey...are you okay?" the question was soft, but tight with concern.

"I don't know," I admitted, lifting my head to rest my chin on his shoulder. "I just needed to see you."

His arms felt reluctant as they encircled me carefully, almost as if not to break me. I could feel the relaxation in his muscles. He was relieved. I wasn't in any trouble, just in need of emotional support. Though that wasn't something FP Jones was known for, he seemed to be the only one that could make me feel better just by being in the same room. He was my father's closest friend. They both joined the Serpent's around the same time.

It always felt like FP was a second father. If mine couldn't pick me up from school, couldn't be there when I was being bullied, or when I was out alone and about to get lost or into trouble, FP was there. It was odd, considering he wasn't there that much for his own children. But I never understood that until I was older. When Jughead finally confessed that he wished his dad paid more attention to his own family instead of giving it all to other people's.

Though it was a hard discussion, it felt like Jughead and I had a stronger friendship coming out of it. FP exhaled, "What's going on, kid? Is it your boyfriend? Jughead? If Ben's being a drill sergeant again, I can pay him a visit and tell him to back off-"

"It's me," I shook my head, taking a step back, parting from him.

"You?" he looked slightly confused for a second, but then realization followed by understanding settled across his withered features. "Look, I know it must be hard still being there after Jason and your parents. But you're a strong kid, Diana. Don't forget who you are, alright? You're a Serpent. Anyone tells you otherwise, they come through us."

Though it wasn't much on paper, it felt good. I could smile. It was a small one, pulling at the corners of my lips. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I mean it, Diana," he stressed, more serious than before. "Don't let those prep-schoolers push you around."

I nodded a little, a bit surprised. "I won't."

"Good. Now, you got school tomorrow. You should be getting back to Ben's." Sliding my hands in my zipped jacket pockets, I nodded. I was going to open my mouth to speak but he shouted to the left to get someone's attention, waving someone down. "Hey, Sweet Pea. Walk her home, will you?"

I started shaking my head, taking a step back. "No, no- that's okay. I can walk myself."

The guy he called Sweet Pea didn't look any older than me. Maybe even a bit younger. With a youthful face, dark eyes, and black hair, he sauntered over just as I was rejecting the order. But FP looked to me, shaking his head. "Don't argue, alright? You've gotta stop coming here dressed like that—you look like a Barbie doll," he said, warning. His eyes looked to Sweet Pea. "I don't care what she says. Take her straight home. Anyone tries anything, you take care of it. Got it?"

"Got it," Sweet Pea nodded.

I sighed, but said, "Thank you," to FP, before turning and heading for the door. Sweet Pea had at least half a foot on me in height. It felt like a skyscraper was trailing behind me. I pushed through to the outside, letting the door go as soon as I was out. It was a nice gesture of FP but I wasn't too interested in the idea of walking all the way home in the company of a complete stranger. Sweet Pea seemed just as perturbed by this as I was.

He kept quiet, hands in his pockets, staying at least six inches to my right at all times. It was the most awkward experience of my entire life. I was sure of that after only five minutes. But I kept walking, loosely crossing my arms. It wasn't too far of a walk but, at this point, I was already fighting to keep my eyes open. I didn't get much sleep the night before and it'd been a long and dull day working at the comic store.

If anything, I needed to start a conversation just to stay awake. So that's what I did. But it was the most cliche way to go about it. "You don't look familiar," I said, after an exhale.

"I wasn't at the Wyrm much this summer," he answered, sounding a bit annoyed.

I couldn't really blame him though. He was forced to walk a girl home that claimed to be a Serpent but looked just like a North sider. I'd be peeved, too. "I'm guessing you're Sweet Pea because you're anything but," I continued to dig myself a hole, glancing at him with a small, patronizing smile. "It's probably meant to be sarcastic, right? Hey, at least they don't call you princess."

"Look, I'm walking you home because FP asked me to. This isn't anything else. Understand?" he said, seriously, turning as he walked to look down at me.

I shrugged with a sigh. "Whatever. Sweet Pea."

"Stop talking."

"Make me, lizard boy."

"Who do you think you are?" he growled, grabbing my upper arm closest to him. It stopped my stride, turning me to face him. This was anything but impressive. He didn't scare me. None of them did. But I guess he wasn't told. He lowered his voice, "You might be important to FP, but for the rest of us-"

If I was being completely honest with myself, I would admit right now that I had my hand on the clip of mace I kept inside my bag the entire walk. I pretended I only just thought of it, yanking the mace from my bag and spraying it right in his face mid-sentence. He made a kind of shout-like noise as he jolted back. His hands covered his face as he doubled over. "Did you just mace me?" he practically shrieked.

"Did you just touch me without my consent?" I shouted in response, stepping off the edge of the sidewalk to put some distance between us. He angrily rubbed at his eyes, blinking them hard for a short moment until he could open them again. At this point, I could not tell if my blood was pumping from the adrenaline or the anger that someone had the nerve to grab me like that. "No offense, Sweet Pea, but I'm walking myself the rest of the way."

I adjusted my bag strap, pulling it further up onto my shoulder in a huff. My emotionally unstable self didn't seem to notice the sounds. But my eyes burned from the sudden bright light racing toward me as I turned around, took a step forward, walking into the road. This sounds really overused, but it truly happened in a second. I didn't know what happened. A flicker of fear as it hit me what the lights were and then suddenly it was dark.

On my side halfway across the road, groaning from the sudden pressure in my ribs, and my ears filling with the sound of a long car horn blast. It stopped after a second but my head was swirling so hard that it didn't really matter. Suddenly a sound came from behind me, followed by a disgruntled male voice. "Are you okay?" It was Sweet Pea.

Pushing myself up on my elbows felt worse, but I needed to reclaim whatever ounce of my dignity that remained. I looked to the left. He was on the ground, too, pushing himself up. And it hit me. He pushed me out of the way. I made fun of his name and maced him, and yet he felt the need to literally tackle me out of the way of a moving car. I didn't remember the younger Serpents being this dedicated. "I'm fine," I finally answered, getting up onto my tail bone.

Sweet Pea stood, dusted himself off. "Come on, we're not far from your house."

His hand came into my view as he offered it to me. A split second thought told me to decline. But even I was fed up with myself that night. So I gratefully gave him my hand and he tugged me up to my feet easily. It felt dizzying—the sudden change in elevation. Even still, I spoke, sounding mostly normal. "Thank you," I said, tilting my head back to look up at his face. Being closer made the height difference worse.

"Yeah," he nodded. I couldn't help but notice the red at the edges of his eyes. I also couldn't help but feel a bit bad for it. "We should get moving."

"Good idea."

We walked the rest of the way in silence. It was only a few short blocks and I was home. I hated calling it that. To me, it was Ben's house. It wasn't home. I could see the lit porch light just up the sidewalk, but a lack of movement in the corner of my eye caused me to stop, to turn halfway to be able to see behind me. Sweet Pea was stopped a few feet down the sidewalk. "This is far enough," he said. "I should be getting back."

"Oh, okay...thanks for walking me, I guess," it felt awkward, but I tried to at least say something. He nodded once and began to turn the other way. And my mouth began moving. "Sorry for macing you. The stinging should wear off in an hour."

He stopped moving with a sigh, turning back to me. "I guess I learned my lesson."

It sounded like his version of saying it didn't matter anymore, mostly because he deserved it. But either way, I felt good with that response. A part of me was saying that he better have learned because I wasn't about to explain it so nicely a second time. The rest of me only felt guilty. "I'm Diana, by the way," I threw the words out.

"Are you even actually a Serpent?" he questioned, eyes narrowed, tone skeptic.

My hand instinctively went to the hem of my sweater and tugged it up over the waist of my skirt. The skin exposed was illuminated in the street lights nearby. Four inches above my right hip bone was a three inch long snake tattoo identical to the one on Sweet Pea's neck. "Been branded for almost three years," I answered, dropping my sweater. "Try not to wear FP too thin."

With that, I turned on my heel, and made my way to the front steps. It was only then I felt the frantic vibration against my hip. I stopped at the base of the stairs and shoved a hand into my bag. After some digging, I found my phone. It was lit up like a Christmas tree with messages. They were all texts from Archie. But I didn't read them.

Instead, I found myself holding onto the banister with my free hand, about to take a step, looking down the street at the disappearing silhouette of a boy in leather. This was how my life began, and this was also exactly where it started to end. A part of me knew it. But it didn't sink in until the next morning.