I didn't know just how much my life had changed. And literally over night. Because, in the morning, I was watching my best friend being carried from Sweetwater River in a yellow body bag. A part of me knew this would happen. A part of me knew this was true. But I had held onto whatever hope I could muster that Jason was just enjoying his newfound freedom too much to call. Now Jason Blossom was dead. My best friend was dead.

There was no coming back to Riverdale, no going to visit, no seeing him genuinely smile for the first time in a long time. All of that was taken away by a single bullet to the forehead. The tears on my cheeks had long dried. I'd been standing there for I don't know how many hours. Cheryl was clutching onto my arm with her folded ones, keeping me beside her. Her tears were still wet. She was still showing her guilt.

My mind had moved on. Actually, it went backward. Last night, Sweet Pea said that Serpents take care of each other. That included family. Jason Blossom was like a brother to me. His death was not just a tragedy, an unfortunate thing, a headline in the Riverdale Register. No, it was much more. It was a declaration of war. I'd made up my mind then. I would find out whoever did this to Jason, and I would make them wish they had died instead.

It didn't matter to me who did it. They would be punished all the same. My deep breaths weren't to calm myself, it was to pacify my anger, relax my curling fists before I could make myself bleed. Something made me turn my head, and I instantly regretted it. Not too many feet away stood Archie and his dad, Fred. Archie was looking this way. There was something in his eyes. A longing, a sadness, that I felt proud of.

Archie had come to my house the night before. I met him on the porch with the intent to keep it short and simple. His explanation for his choice at Cheryl's party was honestly pathetic. But what he finished it with was worse. "You're so perfect," he'd said. "I'll never be good enough for you."

I crossed my arms, a stinging lump forming in the back of my throat. "What else is a lie?"

He didn't respond. His normally happy and carefree eyes were glistening in the glow from the porch light. With the things that had taken place not thirty minutes before, giving my number to a biker, I shrugged my shoulders and took a step back toward the door. "I don't have room in my life for liars," I decided. It came out somewhat saddened, but it carried a certain finality. We were done. Yet the groomed and pampered North sider inside me said, "I'm sorry," before going inside, as though I actually cared.

Maybe I did. But not anymore. With an eyebrow curl of disgust, I looked away from Archie. Instead I looked at the yellow body bag. It was being carried past us, under the police tap, then up the short hill to the Coroner's van. It was hard to think there was an actual person in there. My friend. "We're going to the morgue to identify the body," Cheryl said, her body shaking slightly as she turned her head to see me. "You don't have to go. But could we talk later? Maybe at your house?"

I nodded, "Of course, Cher. Just call me when you're ready."

She nodded in return, visibly fighting a wave of tears, and she let go of my arm. She turned and walked over to her parents a few feet away. My arms fell to my sides. Thankfully for me, I'd had time to change my clothes last night. The only things I kept on from the dance were my converse and leather jacket. In place of the dress were jeans and a black, v-neck tank top. Sliding my hands into my jacket pockets, I started walking toward Ben.

He stood at the car a couple yards from the Coroner's van, waiting for me. Though he looked solemn, I knew he didn't truly feel anything. Ben never liked the Blossoms. Mostly because of his friendship with Hal Cooper. "Ready to go?" he asked, as I approached.

"I'm gonna walk to Jade's, if that's okay?" I said, putting a hint of a question in it near the end. "I need to clear my head."

Ben nodded once, just a little. "Alright. But I want you home before dinner tonight, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

I didn't go to Jade's, but I did walk. The fresh air, as cold as it was, did do me some good. I didn't know what I wanted, what I needed. But something was missing. It felt like I was hulled out. Just a shell left behind to deal with the pain. It was hard for me to distinguish the reason for what I did then, halfway between the River and Pop's Diner. My hand found it's way into my pocket. Reaching in, sniffing around, pulling out my phone.

My fingers worked of their own mindless fruition to press the call button on my newest contact. By the time my mind caught up with my body, it was too late, and I was listening to it ring. It was the most nerve wracking thing—waiting for him to answer. If he would even do so. I bit my bottom lip upon hearing his voice come through the line. "When I said to call whenever," he said, sounding honestly half asleep. "I didn't mean five o'clock the next morning, D."

The teeth holding my lip in place bit down harder in an anxious attempt to keep myself from screaming. "I'm sorry it's so early. I just, um...to be honest, I didn't know who else to call," I was apologizing through the hollow-yet-weighted-down sound of my own voice. Apologizing through the wave of grief hitting me square in the back. It caused my chest to ache, and my eyes to begin to water. I couldn't walk any longer. I sniffled hard, standing still. "He's dead, Sweet Pea. My best friend is dead and...and it's my fault."

"Whoa, Diana, slow down. Where are you?"

There was an immediate change to his voice. He was no longer groggy, tired, worn. He was alive and energetic, and he didn't sound tired at all. I exhaled, letting my eyes fall closed. "I'm almost at Pop's," I said, swiping a tear off my cheek with the back of my wrist.

"Alright, I'll meet you there," he said, followed by a light scuffle on the other end. "I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you."

I ended my side of the call, put my phone back into my pocket. My legs didn't feel like they could make it, even though I could see the neon from the Diner's bright signs, so close already. But I gathered up all the strength I could muster, sniffled hard, and forced my feet to move. It was more daring, more daunting at the time than how it sounds right now. I'd cried at the River. But this felt different. It wasn't full of shock.

It was realization, it was guilt, it was heartbreak. And that was far worse. Numbly, I pushed through the door a the Diner, that stupid bell above the door a set of nails on a chalk board to my currently sensitive ears. I didn't make eye contact with Pop. Just headed for a booth near the back and dropped into a seat. If I talked to Pop, I knew I would only feel worse trying to explain how I felt. Part of me was trying to hide, scooting to the far side of the both by the wall, my back to the door.

My left temple resting against the wall, I could see out the wide window. The parking lot was obscured but I figured I would know he was here by the sound of the bell, following by an overwhelming scent of leather and gasoline. They all smelled like that. I used to smell like that. I tried to find the exact moment in my life when it all went wrong. But, if there was one, I couldn't see it. It was just one big unfortunate event after another.

It's no wonder I ended up here. I just never thought someone's death would be on my hands. Especially not Jason's. Whatever anger I'd felt before seemed like an afterthought. But it would be a brief one. There was no way I was letting it go. Not when it was my mistake that brought me here. My eyes shifted slightly to the right at the sound of the bell, then up a few feet as movement pulled my attention away from the window.

Sweet Pea dropped into the booth seat across from me. His partially disheveled hair and tired eyes weren't what caught my attention. Not at first. It was his clothes. All I'd ever see him wear is a dark t-shirt beneath his Serpent jacket. But now he wore a dark gray hoodie beneath a leather vest, most likely holding the Serpent logo, and it changed his whole appearance. I sat up a bit in the booth as he rested his forearms on the table, leaning forward.

Like what he was about to say was supposed to be a secret. "Tell me what happened," he said. There was a gentleness to his tone. A non-judgmental attitude. I definitely never did this when I was an active Serpent on the South side. But, then again, no one had called me at five o'clock in the morning saying they were the reason their best friend died. I sighed tiredly, leaning my loosely crossed arms on the table.

"I know...you're gonna think I'm crazy...or stupid...or whatever. But you know that kid that went missing, Jason Blossom?" I asked it rhetorically. The whole town had heard about Jason's disappearance. There was no need to actually ask. Sweet Pea's eyes narrowed as he listened and it was his only outward reaction. I didn't know if that meant I was supposed to continue or not, but I did. "His body was found in the River late last night. They just pulled him out this morning. And it's my fault he ended up there."

"Why's it your fault?" he asked, confused, expression remaining the same.

I swallowed hard, my eyes averting down. "I told Jason I would help him get out of Riverdale. But—obviously—something went very wrong."

"Jason Blossom is your dead friend?" Sweet Pea sat up a bit, his confusion mixing with a drop of anger and a bit of annoyance. "Why are you crying over a dead North sider—especially a Blossom? You think if that happened to you, he'd shed a tear? Newsflash, Diana. North siders only care about themselves."

My expression steeled as I sat back against the booth, bringing my crossed arms to my chest. I knew this could be an outcome of the conversation. I don't know what I'd thought would be good about this scenario. My stubbornness wouldn't let me drop it regardless. "Jason Blossom treated me like a human being when no one would even look at me," I defended, trying not to raise my voice. "When I came to Riverdale High, I had no one. I was a South sider dropped into the deep end of the North side ocean. I may still be a snake, but I know how to adapt for survival, Sweet Pea."

Sweet Pea sighed, sitting back in his seat as his eyes moved toward the window. My resolve had broken in that moment. The moment he turned away. I could feel that stinging, burning lump in my throat, threatening to push whatever water my eyes still carried right out onto my cheeks. A bit abruptly, I slid out of the booth, sighing heavily. "You know what? Forget it. This was a mistake," I said, getting to my feet.

Without waiting for a response, I started for the door. Maybe I just needed to be alone? Seeing as I couldn't rely on someone to listen. Or to care. Then I had to remind myself that Sweet Pea was just one person. I still hadn't called Jughead yet, but he was the next option. "Diana, wait." I heard the words as I was letting the door fall closed behind me, the bell's sound drowning it out in my mind. I made it three feet from the door when I heard it open behind me.

The bell chimed again, followed by the sound of the door falling closed. "Diana," Sweet Pea's voice came from behind. "Hold on."

"You don't get it!" I practically shouted, spinning on my heel. The tears didn't really matter at this point. All I cared about was seemingly combining my need to be angry and my need to be sad on someone that didn't really deserve it. "My parents died in a car accident when I was fourteen, my sister was only eight. If i'd fought the adoption, made things worse—we would've gotten split up and I would never see her again. I want to be on the South side more than anything in the world. But if I do, I lose her. Do you get it now, tough guy?"

He looked like a deflated airbag. Shoulders slumped, eyes downcast, his lips curving down in a small frown. "I'm sorry. I didn't know Bulldog had another daughter."

"What did you just say?"

Everything in me—the rage, the guilt, the grief—suddenly flooded out through my feet into the gravel. Bulldog was my father. At least, what he went by since joining the Serpents. I knew it was a possibility, but I didn't think Sweet Pea had known my father—or known of him. But I guess being FP's right hand, even for a short time, comes with a certain notoriety, even after death. Sweet Pea's eyes shifted up to my face. "I knew Bulldog had one daughter, I didn't know he had another," he reiterated. "How could I? FP only ever talks about you."

The mixed emotions I was getting from this day were giving me whiplash. I couldn't tell if I was supposed to be angry, sad, happy, or everything all at once. My body was aching with confusion at this point. Sweet Pea exhaled a deep breath and took a few steps forward, just enough to come within a foot of me. "Why don't I take you home? The ride might do you some good."

"Yeah..." I shrugged, sighing a little.

I couldn't say for sure if the motorcycle ride actually helped me feel better. But either way, I didn't want it to end. Even early on I could tell that feeling was a recurring theme. There was something about being on the back of his bike, holding onto him, feeling the wind on my face. It was like an adrenaline rush and I crashed as soon as we pulled up in front of my house. The house was set up on top of a small hill, with concrete stairs leading up to the walkway.

It was a palace compared to my old house, but I didn't care for it much. I managed to pull myself away, slide off the bike, and step up onto the sidewalk. He'd kept the bike running this time. But I thought it didn't hurt to say my next words anyway. "You could come inside, you know," I threw the offer into the open air, sliding my hands into my pockets to warm them.

"Something tells me you're the only one who thinks so."

His eyes were slightly narrowed, looking just to my left. I twisted to follow his line of sight. And I immediately wished I hadn't. Ben stood on the porch, hands in the pockets of his jeans, watching with a look that said he would come over here the moment something happened he didn't approve of. I'm sure the fact that Sweet Pea was taking me home on his motorcycle was enough disapproval as it was.

Sighing, I turned back to Sweet Pea, and his eyes shifted back over to mine a second later. "Maybe another time then? Some time when he's at work?" I smiled a little, a small smirk of a smile, and took a slow step backward. If anything I started moving just to force myself away from him. Sweet Pea smirked, and my resolve nearly shattered. "Yeah, i'd like that," he nodded. "You should come by the Wyrm tomorrow night. I'm sure FP will be happy to see you."

I chuckled a little, taking two more steps. "So I'm coming to see FP? No one else? Not gonna lie, I'm a little disappointed."

"I'm gonna be there, too, pouty face," his smirk grew wider.

"See, now you're getting my hopes up. So you better be there, lizard boy, or we're going to have to have a serious discussion."

He huffed an airy chuckle, and I laughed a little, too. Because I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked to someone like that, acted around someone like that. I watched him disappear down my street in between steps to the porch. Facing straight forward, Ben kept his eyes on me, giving me a cautious and disapproving expression. "Should I be worried?" he asked, a bit rhetorically.

"He just gave me a lift from Pop's," I shook my head, walking past him to the door.

As I was pulling open the screen door, he turned around and followed me in, saying, "Pop's? Was it a date?"

"What? No."

I made a disgusted sound, as if the thought of being on a date with Sweet Pea was somehow bad. It wasn't what I thought. But Ben needed to believe that it was. Cash popped up from the front of the couch, peering over the back of it. "On a date with who?" she questioned, curiously.

I shook my head, "It wasn't a date, Cash. We just talked."

Ben went into the kitchen to the left and i shrugged off my jacket as I began climbing the stairs. My room was the only room on the top level besides Cash's. Ben's and the other guest room were both on the main floor. My room was quaint, cozy. But that needed to change. It all needed to change. Not so much that Ben started giving me warnings, but just enough to feel alive—to feel like myself. This nice girl act was only necessary to keep me and Cash together.

He can't really throw us onto the street if I don't behave like a North sider. Even if he did, he wouldn't punish Cash, too. I could easily crash with FP if I got kicked out. Looking at the clock, closing the bedroom door behind me, I found that it was already almost seven. Seeing as it was a Saturday, I had all day today and all day tomorrow to reinvent myself and my room. I didn't take any chances. I locked my door and put an Eminem CD into my stereo.

It couldn't go too high in volume without blowing the speakers, but I cranked it up as high as I could. Then I got to work. Clearing the walls of frilly stickers and various items hanging by push pins for decoration. I all but swiped my entire dresser top into the waste basket. All of these things were fake. They were Diana Cassidy from the North side. Nothing in my room screamed South side except for my Serpent jacket, on the back of my office chair. That was about to change.