"We're all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all." - John Hughes
Saturday, Jan. 8. Riverdale High School. Riverdale, New York. 12919.
Jughead Jones was not a morning person. Being at school at 7 a.m. five days a week was enough of a jail sentence, but a Saturday? That's just criminal. Jughead rose slowly from the old couch and adjusted his beloved beanie, before he grabbed his Serpent jacket and some gloves and left the trailer quickly. There were no other signs of life in Sunnyside trailer park this early and Jughead as grateful for that as she walked to his motorcycle. Even with the snow, the drive to Pop's was short, despite being on the other side of town. Jug walked quickly inside and quietly placed his helmet on the familiar counter, as he was greeted with a warm "Morning, Jug!" by Pop Tate.
The cheerful owner almost instantly placed a delicious cheeseburger and fries in front of him, along with a piping hot cup of straight black coffee. Jughead practically scarfed down the meal and all but inhaled the coffee, knowing he probably wouldn't be eating again until dinner time, thanks to detention. The broody teenager wanted nothing more in that moment than to stay on that red vinyl stool forever, with an endless supply of mouth-watering food, but the impossible to miss clock on the wall told him he had ten minutes to get to school. With a grunt, Jughead rose from the stool and sauntered out of the diner to his waiting bike, still the only vehicle in the parking lot. Revving the engine, Jughead peeled out of the parking lot towards the Northside, his motorcycle jacket and gloves keeping him warm from the frigid temperatures.
Jughead got off his bike, removed his helmet and stood up, looking towards the Riverdale High School doors as he adjusted his beanie with a sigh. This is going to suck, he thought. Maybe he'd get lucky and he'd be the only student, so he could just sleep through it. He knew he needed if after the late night he had working for the club. With a long sigh, paired with a frustrated huff, Jughead began to meander his way across the empty parking lot towards the front double doors.
Betty Cooper couldn't believe it. She had detention. On a Saturday. She was the perfect girl next door. The youngest daughter of the wholesome Cooper family and the sweetheart of Riverdale. She didn't get detention. What would people think?
"I can't believe I have to be here on a Saturday," Betty exclaimed, disgust evident in her usually soft voice as she bit her lip. The fingers on her right hand absentmindedly grabbed the end of her iconic ponytail, pulling it over her shoulder and tugging on the strands tightly.
"Sweetie, it will be okay. But skipping class to buy a dress for Spring Formal is not an excuse," said Hal Cooper, as he sat beside her in the custom Impala they had restored together the previous summer, using his stern but lightly sarcastic tone.
Her mother, Alice Cooper, had been far too disappointed to drop off Betty herself, even working overtime with friends and neighbors to attempt to quell the scandal of Betty's punishment throughout the small town. It was Alice who had convinced (and basically put the fear of God into) Principal Weatherbee to reduced Betty's punishment from a week of afterschool detention to a Saturday, so her extracurricular activities wouldn't suffer and affect her future.
"Just think of all the planning you can get done without all the distractions at home and during school hours," Hal added, with a sympathetic yet hopeful look in his eyes as he witnessed Betty's inner turmoil. Betty sighed dramatically and released her hair after one final and sharp tug, re-adjusted her high ponytail to fit her standards, straightened her high collar and exited the car in a compliant fashion. She stomped up the stairs to the school, willing a positive attitude to wash over her as she navigated through the halls to the library.
Kevin Keller couldn't believe it had come to this. He could feel the disappointment of his father radiating off of him as the pair sat in silent in the truck. As the son of the sheriff, there was a certain (and rather unreasonable) assumption that he was someone that wouldn't get in trouble. It's also the reason he didn't exactly have friends. Go figure.
Getting sentenced to a Saturday detention seemed almost like an outdated form of torture, and sitting in this truck with his father wasn't exactly helping his outlook on his day. Sometimes Kevin wished he was just a regular high school kid, but no, he was the son of the sheriff and that made his life incredibly difficult and frustrating. And a target. Can't forget that lovely stereotype, he thought to himself, before being broken from his train of thought by his father's authoritative voice.
"I want you to go in there and think about what you did." Sheriff Keller stated, anger seeping through his voice as he glanced over at his only son, a sad attempt at keeping his true feelings on Kevin's punishment at bay.
"Got it, Dad," Kevin replied curtly, staring at the floor of the truck.
With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, Sherriff Keller continued, "Maybe if you made some friends and didn't spend so much time playing with toys- "
"Dungeons and Dragons isn't a toy, Dad" Kevin interrupted, a burst of confidence he wore like putting on armor before a battle in his tone and demeanor. "I need to go."
Kevin slid out of the truck, lightly slamming the door without so much as a glance back towards his father. He immediately pulled his tan jacket closer to his chest with a huff of frustration. He gripped the strap of his backpack tighter as he made his way swiftly up the steps of the school entrance. This was going to be a long day.
Veronica Lodge sat in the back of the sleek, black town car lost in deep thought. She slowly smoothed her raven colored hair with her freshly manicured nails, and fingered her pearl necklace in an attempt to calm her anxiety. Her black Gucci dress was a personal favorite and paired with her best stockings and knee-high Chanel leather boots, she felt gave a small sense of comfort in this moment of need. Veronica swallowed thickly, trying to dislodge the unfamiliar lump in her throat. She picked a speck of lint from her custom black cape, and exited the car as Andre held the door and wished her a good day.
Veronica stared up at the school, her new and completely unexpected social playground, that looked right out of the 1950s instead of a small New England town. She had found a small comfort in this small-town atmosphere while her father was in prison, and now that he was out, she preferred school to being home. She was not a nervous or anxious person by nature, but this was the first time in her life she was truly out of her element and she was struggling to deal with all the changes and altered expectations.
Pushing her worries to the back of her mind to focus on the moment at hand (she was a Lodge after all), Veronica confidently walked towards the doors of the main entrance, a practiced activity despite not having an army of student eyes judging her every move. This particular Saturday certainly felt different than others, and not just because of her father's early release.
She paused on her way up the stair and turned to look back towards the blue sky behind her. She could almost sense something in the air, a kind of foreboding change or a hope of better options for the future, like she could reach out and grab it if it materializing in front of her. Just another Saturday in Riverdale, she mused. With a small shoulder shrug, she turned her brown eyes back to the school and continued towards the front door, her cape swishing behind her.
Archie Andrews kept his eyes trained on the floor of his father's truck as it came to a halt in front of Riverdale High. He was a good kid. He had good friends he could count on, he was the captain of the football team, he made good grades and he always tried to be nice and help people with their problems. So, why do I feel so out of control?
He really thought he had a handle on himself. His life really was great. Except for his parents splitting up, and his mom moving to Chicago, but his parents were friendly and there was no bad blood or arguments. And he was constantly targeted for his role as football captain, but that position came with a lot of responsibility. But this week proved that all his anger and resentment he thought just lived in the back of his head came bursting out and now he was paying the price.
"I'm not upset, Arch. I want you to talk to me. To tell me whatever this is, so we can work through it." Fred Andrews said, pleading with his son to break the silence that had consumed him since he was sentenced to Saturday detention in Principal Weatherbee's office.
"It's fine, Dad. It's really not a big deal," Archie answered with guilt lacing his voice, grabbing his lunch and backpack before reaching for the door. He suddenly felt his dad's hand on his arm and turned back to look at him.
"I'm just worried about you, Archie. I mean, your future is a stake here. I know how much you love football but this goes on your permanent record son," Fred continued, before backing down at the defeated look on his son's face. "I just, hope you have a good day."
"Thanks. I'll see you at 4." Archie provided, before hopping out of the truck and running up the stairs of the school. He took a deep breath to calm himself in the hallway, before walking into the library and sending up a prayer that this day would be over quickly.