Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, they belong to Archie Comic Publications, Inc., Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa and The CW.
"Wow! I love love love the new hair," Veronica enthused upon arrival at their usual cosy booth at Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe. "Flawless! It looks so much better like this." That seemed to imply that her natural hair looked bad. Whatever! Stop being so sensitive, you're probably just reading to much into it.
Sliding into the familiar interior of the leather seating, Josie moved her hands up to frame her face and playfully flaunted her new look. "I know," she boasted in a joking manner, Ronnie's kind words stroking her ego. Her hairstyle has not been easy to put together. Riverdale was a tiny town with an even tinier supermarket that didn't sell many products applicable to black hair, so Josie and her mother had to purchase their hair care products online. The choice of blue and lilac extensions had been bold and vivacious. It had taken the Pussycat all day to carefully braid it into her hair, nonetheless she pushed through her hunger and numb limbs to bring this look to life.
The Pussycat ordered her favourite, a strawberry milkshake, when Pop came over to take their order whilst the ex-New Yorker opted for a club sandwich before quickly becoming engrossed with the screen of her phone. She frowned, something was definitely up.
"You look so different today, Josie." The diner owner commented after quickly making note of their orders on the pad in his meaty hands, making conversation.
Josie dragged her eyes away from Veronica and sent the big friendly man a confused smile. He elaborated, chortling, "I prefer your natural look. Ain't nothin' wrong with your afro. Be proud!"
"I am, Pop," she replied lightly. "I just wanted to try something new." Just because I have extensions in, it doesn't mean I'm self-hating, her nerves grumbled. No. She wouldn't let Pop's comment's bother her, she knew he didn't mean it in a malicious way.
Then, it was just the two Pussycats at the table again.
It had been a while since the girls had come together for a date like this-boy, did they have a lot to catch up on! "So," Josie chirped, her voice cutting across the silence between them. "What have you been up to lately? How're things with your dad?" Veronica had been absent from a lot of rehearsals too, however Josie would touch on that later.
V's attention was on the lead Pussycat again. "Wow, girl, don't even get me started on that," her eyes widened as she sighed, preparing to left of some steam. However, before she could proceed she was interrupted by the unanticipated arrival of Jughead Jones.
The loner came ambling up to their table in long strides that were ambiguously hurried and leisurely, whilst his wet and sodden boots squelched against the floors. His whole demeanour just screamed: "In case you haven't noticed, I'm weird. I'm a weirdo. I don't fit in, and I don't want to fit in." Lame. And she couldn't forget that stupid hat that he always wore, damn, he probably slept and showered in it too. Giving Josie a sketchy glance, he muttered to Veronica, "We need you. It's urgent."
Veronica was already vacating her seat and shrugging on her cloak before Josie could fully process what was going on.
"Wait! Hold up. Where are you guys going?" Josie frowned, "Veronica, I thought we were eating together." Is she really gonna ditch me right now? This was typical Core Four behaviour. Ronnie was her girl, but the Core Four walked around acting like everything in this town revolved around them, with little regard for everyone else.
"J, I am so sorry, but this is really important," Ronnie insisted, throwing a look at Jughead who is getting antsier with each passing moment. "I'm sorry," she apologised again with sincerity, guilt washed all over her features.
The lead Pussycat wasn't gonna let her walk away from this easily. "More important that being one of my Pussycats?" She asked pointedly, tilting her head to the side. "Veronica you've already missed a bunch of rehearsals and our last performance, if you're gonna be in the band then I need absolute commitment from you." Josie was 100% prepared to be the Beyoncé to her Farrah Franklin if necessary.
"If you must know," Jughead rolled his eyes, "we're trying to solve the great mystery of who killed Jason Blossom. It's much more important than singing about heartbreak and discussing how your hair not-so-miraculously grew over night."
That dig at her hair was such a low blow, and his dry tone made his comment all the more cutting.
Josie's demeanour switched into one of impenetrable ice. "Whatever, Drughead. Run along to your dingy little emo den and see if I care," she snapped back. But the two them were already hurrying toward the diner exit and the lead Pussycat's clap back fell on deaf ears.
The girl let out a long sigh of defeat, looking down at the empty table that suddenly seemed so vast and isolating. It looks like I'll have to eat for two! She thought in sarcastic joy.
It consequently dawned on her that Veronica had rushed off so fast that she hadn't paid for her meal either. Damn.
...
Val was with Trev at Riverdale Public Library, working peacefully on her English assignment that was due at the end of the week. The girl's ink pen glided across the surface of her lined paper as she crafted her in-depth essay analysing the theme of obedience in Shakespeare's 'The Tempest". Solange's ethereal voice drifted out of her earbuds which were firmly planted in her ears, helping her to relax and tap into her rich creative assets as the warm silence of the quaint library enveloped her frame. English was her best subject, she was a writer after all.
However, her unwavering concentration was severed by the feeling of an unidentified hand furrowing itself amid the curls of her hair. Val went as stiff as a statue, completely taken aback. She slowly craned her neck around to see Alice Cooper standing close to the back off her chair, a milky white hand idly stroking and revelling in the texture of her hair, eyes glazed with fascination.
"Umm, hello Mrs Cooper," the Pussycat uttered politely, whilst awkwardly trying to manoeuvre her head away from the woman's intrusive touch. Sheesh, what am, your dog?! Val ached to yell at her. But she knew that Betty's mom was as dramatic as she was nosy, and she didn't want to end up as fruit for consumption on the Riverdale gossip grapevine.
"You have such...unique hair, Valerie." The older woman hummed, in what was supposed to be a complimentary tone. Her eyes drifted back to the Pussycat's fro with a speculative grin, "How ever do you tame it? It's so...wild."
Wild. Val's patience was dwindling the longer that this conversation went on. This wasn't the first-nor would it be the last-time that she had heard the suggestion that her hair was 'feral' or 'undesirable'. Growing up, she'd wished, prayed and cried for her hair to be slicker, limper, and straighter-like the other girls'.
Valerie simply shrugged, masking her despair. "I manage," she said shortly. Then she shifted back around and directed her attention at her books once more. But not before exchanging a withered look with Trev, whom had witnessed everything.
...
The bounce in Melody's step was springy and light as she took Mrs Mantle's fluffy brown Labrador Harmony for a stroll through Riverdale Park. The sun was setting and the sky was alight with hues of pinks, reds and oranges, reflecting the beauty of nature. The drummer's jaw fell slack in awe whilst gazing up at the vision before her.
She was so unaware that of her surroundings that she wasn't paying any mind to where she was walking, and the toe of her sneaker stripped over an uneven part of the concrete pathway. A toppling sensation consumed Melody's frame before she descended toward the stone floor, colliding with it in such force that her body bounced prior to landing.
Mel hissed at the pain blossoming in her arm as she shakily pushed herself to sit upright. Hesitantly bringing up her elbow to expect it, she gritted her teeth at the sight of crimson red blood trickling out of the peeling skin of the wound that had formed. Ravenous laughter rang out in the distance, causing the girl to look over curiously to find a group of kids-about middle school age-in the playground adjacent openly pointing over at her in amusement.
Melody couldn't hear them clearly but she managed to make out the words "hair". Her heart plummeted.
No, no, no. NO.
A mere few yards away, stood Harmony innocently sniffing at a pile of sleek black curly hair lying on the pathway. Her wig! She had fallen with so much force that her wig had come off her head. The Pussycat's cheeks flamed in utmost humiliation and her eyes were flooded with an influx of tears.
She quickly clambered to her feet and grabbed the dog's lead her wig from the floor, limping home and stumbling through the sheer hurt and embarrassment, the sadistic squeals still ringing on in the background.
What I love about Josie and the Pussycats is that they rock all the hairstyles they have, whether it's extensions, wigs or their natural hair. Black women are faced with this cycle of criticism about their hair: if they wear their natural it's seen as unprofessional, if they wear a weave they're deemed self hating. I've mostly worn my hair natural, and I always get suggestions that I should "do something" with it, and it can get really annoying after a while...
Any reviews are much appreciated.