"Don't ever think I fell for you, or fell over you. I didn't fall in love, I rose in it." - Jazz, Toni Morrison.
There was a girl, because of course there was, because while there had been many, many boys, there was always a girl.
There was a girl, and her name was Betty Cooper, and Veronica had fallen instantly in want.
It was the beginning of summer vacation, a sickly hot June day in Lawrence, Kansas, and the weather was just one on a very long list of things Veronica Lodge was blaming for the terrible day she was having. The Toni Morrison Society having the audacity to schedule their summer seminar in Kansas was pretty high up there, though. Popular, pretty high school students should not have to suffer simply because the president of the society had apparently made a charity case of whatever 'Wizard of Oz' rejects inhabited this barren plain.
In short, the president of the Toni Morrison Society taught in Kansas, the Toni Morrison Summer Writing Seminar was in Kansas, so now Veronica Lodge was in Kansas.
And apparently Kansas even managed to fuck up the simplest instructions regarding the care of New York teen socialites.
"I'm sorry mija, but I'm not going to have the dean of the university fired just because you have a double room instead of a single." Hermione Lodge had always done her best to instill humility and selflessness in her only child; unfortunately, she was usually preempted by her husband, who bought Veronica everything she wanted, and their social class, which taught Veronica that the ability to do so was the only thing that mattered. "It will be good for you, to meet some other people. How will your writing improve if you never experience anything beyond Park Avenue?"
"I'm fine with observing it, mami, I don't need to wallow in it."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Think of it as suffering for your art, then. But I need to get going, I have to be back in New York for your father's dinner. Smithers!" She called. "The bags, please."
Veronica pouted, but she considered herself far too mature at sixteen to throw a tantrum in public. If her mother was not going to see reason, she supposed she would have to persevere as best she could in these trying times. At least Sabrina and Sis would be here soon; she could avoid these cornfed hicks as much as possible.
The room itself, on a floor of the freshman dorm reserved for seminar participants, would have been barely habitable for two people let alone one Veronica. The closet, of course, was totally unacceptable, and she was glad she'd spent several days at home coordinating outfits for maximum adaptability. Dressing to express was as much an art as writing, and Veronica had perfectly honed her craft. The rest of the room - two twin beds, two faux-wood desks, and two torturous-looking chairs - she had expected, planned for, and decided to approach philosophically. A few hipster/bohemian chic touches and she could stand to describe the accommodations to her friends back in New York as 'terrible, of course, but one does what one can.'
"Hardly the Ritz, darling, but you'll be fine." Hermione kissed Veronica's cheek. "And I have to get going. Call when you can, but don't forget we have dinner with the Jones's tomorrow and the theatre on Friday." She stepped back to look at her daughter, all grown up. All too soon she wouldn't be sending her daughter away for the summer but for college, and then forever. On a whim, she unclasped the string of pearls from her neck and circled it around her daughters. "So I'll still be with you. I'll miss you so much, mija. I love you."
"I love you too, mom." Veronica hugged her mom, feeling slightly childish but not enough to let go. There was no one around to see anyway. "Have a good flight."
With a final wave, Hermione and Smithers left Veronica standing in the middle of a strange room, alone and away from home for the first time in her life. It was an odd feeling, and Veronica hated it.
"Hey."
With a startled yelp - she kind of hated that too - Veronica spun around. In the doorway was another girl, as different from Veronica as night from day. Veronica automatically appraised the newcomer; pretty (gorgeous, really) in a girl-next-door sort of way. Blonde hair, green eyes, red flannel shirt, jeans, and honest-to-God Chuck Taylors. She looked like an Americana wet dream. Veronica wanted to devour her.
The girl blushed at Veronica's frank gaze. "Betty Cooper. If you're Veronica Lodge, I'm your roommate."
Veronica's lips slid back into a predatory smile as she took Betty's outstretched hand, using it to draw herself closer and pressing a kiss to the girl's cheek. She's bet her last pair of Jimmy Choos that she was a virgin, and would give very good odds that she'd never been kissed, either, from the way her breath hitched slightly and the tendons in her neck twisted as she swallowed. The slightly alcoholic scent of cheap perfume hit Veronica with her next breath and the pulse of adrenaline she felt skittered through her veins like a drug.
Suddenly this summer seemed alive with possibility.
"I'm so happy to meet you, Betty." She pulled back, careful to subtly trail her fingers over Betty's wrist. "I'm sure we'll be great friends."
Betty looked a little bit like she'd been hit by...well, not quite a truck, but maybe a Porsche. Something small and sleek and expensive, like the girl who was apparently her new roommate for the next few weeks. To the small-town Riverdale girl, Veronica seemed impossibly cool and mature. It made her feel tongue-tied and flustered.
"Y-yeah, I hope so. Nice to meet you too." She automatically moved to step into the room and stumbled slightly on the bags she'd left forgotten at her feet.
"Be careful!" Veronica exclaimed, catching Betty's wrist before she could fall. "You don't want to break your arm before the writing even starts."
This girl is very close to me. Betty thought, the renewed contact - why is there so much touching? - momentarily blanking her brain, and just when she'd managed to form words and sentences and was starting to feel pretty good about herself. The Coopers were not a very physically demonstrative family. Of course she and her sister hugged often, but for someone whose best friends had been boys since the time they were in diapers, and who didn't, living in Riverdale, meet a lot of strangers….it was a little much.
All together it made Betty feel like she was being swept up in a very fashionable tornado, just trying to keep her feet under her and breath in her lungs, and not doing a very good job of either so far.
"Where are your other bags?" Veronica was picking one up and moving it carefully out of the way, leaving only the one the Betty had tripped over.
"That's all I have." Now that she'd (mostly) dealt with meeting her new roommate, Betty took her first proper look at their room...and the discrepancy between her two duffel bags and Veronica's pile of very expensive, very large suitcases.
"Oh. You're so lucky, though; I'm sure with your figure anything looks good." Veronica said, a little bit of uncertainty coloring her voice as she tried to soften the faux pas. She could be a bitch, yes, but she hadn't actually meant to be rude to Betty. She'd just never seen anyone bring so few bags for a weekend trip, let alone several weeks. Poor people really were different.
Since both Betty and Veronica had arrived early in the day, they had plenty of time to unpack and get their room set up. It helped that the lion's share of decisions were made by Veronica. 'I hate having the sun in my eyes when I wake up, would you mind taking that bed? Thanks so much.' Still, Betty was exhausted when everything was finally arranged around dinnertime. She left her new roommate sorting shoes and went to find the dining hall.
As it turned out, college dining halls weren't much different from high school cafeterias, with the exception of a truly impressive cereal bar. Gathering her tray, Betty scanned the dining room; not knowing anyone made her nervous, but she'd come to the seminar to meet new people and have new experiences, so she steeled herself and approached one of the tables.
"Mind if I sit?"
"Go for it."
There were only two other students sitting at the table, a brown-haired girl with a punk vibe and band shirt, and a slim and stylish boy with pale skin, blue eyes, and platinum-blonde hair.
"I'm Betty." She introduced herself.
"Brigitte Reilly." The girl stuck out a hand. "How's it going?"
"And I'm Casper McFadden." The boy replied. He had been furiously scribbling in a notebook when Betty walked up, but he quickly closed it and put a hand on it protectively. "So, where are you from, Superteen?"
Brigitte slapped him lightly with a spoon. "Ignore him, he's an idiot. He's been giving nicknames to everyone who walks in."
"Well I have to entertain myself somehow. So, miss blonde and green-eyed All-American, please explain yourself. We're waiting with baited breath."
Betty's eyebrows rose a little in surprise at the sudden interrogation, but she supposed it was one way to get to know people.
"I'm from Riverdale, actually."
"Cool!" said Brigitte. "I'm in Centerville; we're practically neighbors!"
Casper groaned. "Oh my God, you absolute hicks."
"He thinks he can look down on everyone because he lives in New York now." Brigitte stage-whispered to Betty. "But don't let him fool you. He lived down the street from me until he was ten."
He huffed and grabbed a fry from Brigitte's plate. "How I'm supposed to maintain an aura of romantic mystery with you around I'm sure I don't know."
"You're doing fine." Betty laughed. "And Centerville is plenty romantic compared to Riverdale. At least you have a social calendar that takes up more than one page."
Casper grinned. "I like her. Let's keep her."
Before Betty could form a response - she didn't even know what she was going to say, considering her conflicting emotions on being 'claimed' and also the pride she was feeling from someone actually wanting to claim her in the first place - a shriek like a banshee nearly made her jump out of her chair.
The whole dining room turned to watch as a short blonde girl screamed "Ronnie!" and enveloped Veronica, who had just entered the room, in a whirlwind of hugs and cheek-kissing.
"Ughhh" Casper groaned with a contempt only one intimately acquainted with a situation could produce. "I can't believe they actually came."
"Who?"
"That, my dear friend, is Veronica Lodge." He answered Brigitte's question with a flourish. Veronica was now sitting at a table with the loud blonde and a gorgeous redhead, all of them looking like they'd just stepped out of a fashion magazine. "And those two harpies flanking her," he gestured at them one by one with a fry, "are Sabrina Spellman and Melissa Keene. Everyone knows Veronica's actually as smart as she is ruthless but how those other two passed daycare I'll never know. I can't believe she got them to come all the way out here."
Park Avenue gossip was clearly a familiar topic to Brigitte, who was barely listening to Casper's rant while eating and humming an unfamiliar tune. Betty, on the other hand, had never been to or even near Park Avenue, and like any other small-town girl, was enraptured. "Do you know them?"
"Acquaintances only; they're not exactly in my circle of friends. But my best friend's sister is a sophomore at Spence and she says they practically rule the school. New York's own live-action 'Mean Girls.' I heard Veronica once made a teacher have a nervous breakdown with a look."
"Oh, come one. Nobody's like that in real life." Casper looked personally affronted that she didn't believe his dramatic gossip. "Veronica's my roommate and she seemed perfectly nice to me. A little out of touch, maybe, but certainly not some teen drama villain."
"Oh, honey. Be very careful with that one. The only time I've ever heard of Veronica being nice is when she wanted something." He scanned his eyes over Betty's body purposefully. "Or someone."
Betty nearly knocked over her water, sputtering to try and come up with a response.
"We're, like, a thousand miles from New York Cas, leave the poor kid alone." Brigitte turned to Betty. "See why I said to ignore him? He thinks everything's a plot in one of his books."
"You say gothic horror, I say private school memoir."
"Veronica's, uhm, like that? Like, likes girls?" Betty groaned internally at the sentence she just spit out. If she didn't get her act together she wasn't going to be able to convince anyone she could pass for a decent writer. Unfortunately, it looked like her poorly-worded ramblings had offended Brigitte.
"Is there a problem with that, Riverdale? I'm bi."
"No no no!" Betty waved her hands. "My best friend's gay, of course I don't have a problem with it! I just...she just doesn't look like the type."
Brigitte eyed her appraisingly but decided to let Betty off the hook. "Looks aren't anything. Take Cas here. Shockingly straight."
The boy grinned. "I'm not gay but I am fabulous. I get all the good dirt letting people think what they want, though. And your Miss Lodge? Rumor has it she makes your wildest all-girls school fantasies look tame."
"Yours maybe." Brigitte scoffed.
"I'm not kidding. Jake told me they meet up at the Met every day after school to bum cigarettes from the guys and plan the week's debauchery, and Wes knows the guy who made their fake IDs."
"Hearsay and conjecture, and I'm tired of it. Let's talk about something important."
The conversation turned to their favorite literature and Betty was glad for the change. She knew how rumors could get twisted and doubted that half of what Casper had said was true, but she still glanced over at Veronica's table. She couldn't help it; the other girl intrigued her with her curious mix of alpha bitch reputation and sweet roommate, and Betty was too much a journalist's daughter not to want to search out the truth in any story. Her gaze was met by mischievous brown eyes, one eyebrow cocked questioningly, as if Veronica knew what she was thinking and was challenging her to dig deeper. Betty blushed at being caught and resolutely turned back to the conversation with her new friends, determined to put Veronica out of her mind.