I

Betty stared after Archie and Veronica, annoyed, as they walked into the closet and shut the door. She dropped her gaze to her feet, feeling confused. She hadn't sensed anything like sexual tension between her two friends and she knew Veronica wasn't to blame for the situation. It was Cheryl playing her manipulative little game with them. Archie seemed almost unaware of what was happening, just sort of going along with it, so Betty didn't think the fault lay with him either. Maybe she was the most confused by her own actions, or lack thereof.

Over the summer, in the absence of her redheaded BFF, Betty had coaxed herself into a fluffy dreamscape where she and Archie ended up together. The perfect couple. In the light of day, this illusion she'd invented fell pretty flat. Did she, a young journalistic hopeful, really want to tie herself to a guy who couldn't even stand up to the threat of being pawed by any of a random selection of simpering gossips in a forgotten cubbyhole of the Blossom family mansion?

When it came down to it, Betty Cooper was a woman who could take matters into her own hands, which was how she knew that if she'd really wanted Archie, she would have made her intentions known and, to hell with the rest of them, pulled him into the closet with her. The fact that she hadn't made her question whether the girl next door was really a cliché she really wanted to be living.

Cheryl's phonily sweet voice yanked Betty out of her realizations.

"Ok, who's next?" Cheryl looked around brightly for her next victim. God, Betty thought, she's so much like that spider broach she's always wearing. Preying on anyone who gets too close.

"Hey, you. Teenage nightmare." Betty followed Cheryl's gaze and realized she was addressing Jughead. Standing with his back to them and looking out the window, he was almost camouflaged in the dark room. "Who invited you?"

Jughead turned slowly and stepped towards them with an eyebrow raised. "Me? I'm here for the art and artifacts tour. Where do you keep the suits of armour?"

Cheryl narrowed her eyes at him, the gloss on her sneering mouth shining in the firelight. "I'd rather keep an eye on you than have you wandering around my family's home, if you don't mind." She crossed her arms and drummed her crimson nails on them. "Why don't you join our little game?" Now Cheryl smirked nastily and it was obvious to Betty that the invitation had only been extended as a means to scare Jughead off the premises.

Jughead stepped up to the back of the couch whereon perched a trio of Cheryl's disciples and shrugged noncommittally. Cheryl huffed at his persistence but refused to give up any ground and strode to the table, giving the bottle a vicious flick.

Betty couldn't have said what made her do it. As the bottle slowed, Betty crossed her legs, pressing the toes of her upper foot into the underside of the table, creating the tiniest slant. She looked away from the bottle, trying to appear disinterested, but when her eyes locked with Jughead's and he drew his eyebrows together in suspicion, Betty knew he had seen what she'd done.

Before she could make sense of her actions or what she was going to do about them, Betty registered the silence. The bottle had stopped turning and it was pointing right at her. No question this time, since no one had filled Veronica's spot on the couch after she had vacated it.

Cheryl was grinning. "Well, looks like you two sad sacks might as well just run on home now." She turned to Betty. "Don't you have some pining to do over the man of your dreams you just lost to the new girl?"

What a bitch, Betty thought, but she lowered the table carefully with her foot then stood, smiling right back at Cheryl. "Actually, I think I'll play." She glanced across at Jughead, who was now looking like he wanted to see how this would play out. When she reached him, he turned and fell into step with her. As they were about to leave the room, Betty turned back to see Cheryl watching her with a sour look on her face. "Great party by the way, Cheryl. Do we just pick any closet?" Betty fluttered her fingers at her in a condescending wave and turned the corner.