It was a very difficult evening. The very first song had been easy, but keeping the rhythm non-stop was a full-on challenge. At the end of the third song, Jughead's wrist felt like a burning fire. Two songs after, he was hotter than hell, and not so long after, it felt like it was about to pop out of its joint. Jug did an honorable job at keeping a straight face. It wasn't very hard to make it look like concentration. Every time he took a sip of water, he lay the bottle on his wrist to cool it down. Most of the time, he wasn't even thirsty. At some point, Brad entered the room to star madly at Jughead from afar. Jug felt his searing glance for the other side of the room. He wasn't a fan of having to deal with that later.

Finally, the hardest part came. Archie's guitar stepped down in favor of the drums, and it was Jughead's turn to realize his solo. He concentrated, not caring about his pain, putting it aside in order to play his part perfectly. It was burning him like crazy, but it was not the time to quiver. All eyes were on him. He did the best he could, and by the sound of the crowd, it was a success. Courageously, he contained himself for the two last songs.

The song ended, and the encore was the ultimate experience before the ordeal was definitely over. Jughead was sweating by the end of the concert. He had trouble focusing on the crowd. His left hand was shaking slightly, and it was getting difficult to hold his drumsticks. He knew he could maintain his façade just a little while, not very much longer though.

"That… was… the BEST concert we ever had!" Archie yelled. He almost jumped in the air. He was really enjoying this.

"Yeah, I admit, it wasn't quite as bad as the other times." Reggie was smiling fondly, which was an unusual sight in itself.

Veronica has started combing her hair. She had actually made some efforts tonight. Betty looked at Jughead expectantly, and he answered with a smile. No need to make them worry now that everything was over. He got up from the drums and headed for their lodge. He was careful not to be too fast so that he wasn't standing out.

"And what about my guitar solo? Everyone loved it!" Reggie grabbed his guitar like he was still playing. Betty lifted her eyes heavenward.

"I think they loved Jughead's more." Archie belied him.

"What?" Jughead was surprised to hear his name at all. His hand was really hard to ignore right now, so he wasn't listening to the conversation anymore. He was concentrated on not showing any pain. The painkillers had worn off a while ago.

"Didn't you hear people cheering you?" Betty provided, smiling. "Your solo was fantastic!"

She clutched his arm. Jughead appreciated her sympathy, but right now his only aim was the hospital. No one knew though, so he smiled back at Betty.

"Yeah, thanks."

Archie went to Jughead and put his hand on Jughead's shoulder. They wobbled a bit but the gesture was friendly.

"Your training showed up, dude! Remind me to stay with you next time!"

Jughead laughed it off, and the conversation generalized. They finally arrived at their lodge and Jughead was ready to just grab his bag and go. But, standing there in the middle of the room, there was a man none of them knew.

"Good evening, the Archies." He said.

The group remained silent. It's not always good news to have a stranger calling you, and they had too much affinity with bad events to be anything else than careful. The man felt the tension and tried breaking the ice.

"Do not worry, please. I am the man that came to evaluate you. I wanted to talk to you."

He went to Archie and raised his hand. Archie shook it, tension eased up.

"Oh, the critic! Aren't you supposed to make your report and… not meet us?"

"Nonsense. That's the old-fashioned way. We have to talk."

Jughead bit his lips and put on his jacket. If they could not leave yet, at least he would enjoy the relative comfort of his pocket. However, when his wrist met the handmade cast, it didn't feel good anymore. Jughead felt… not better at all. His hand was still pulsing, and it was far from calming down. He clutched his teeth and waited. He was beginning to feel sweaty, but not from the exercise.

"I have a few remarks on your performance. If you are ready to talk them out with me, we can arrange a better mark for your score tonight."

"That doesn't seem very ethical," Jughead couldn't help but bicker.

"It is, I can assure you, a very common method in the field. First off, Archibald Andrews."

The guy listed to each their strong point and their weak point. Jughead was trying to concentrate but he kept his distance from the conversation. It was hard to concentrate on anything else but his hand right now.

"All right," the man said, turning to him. "Last but not least… Forsythe."

"Jughead." He corrected automatically.

"Yes, well… I will say that your performance is quite good."

Jughead clutched his teeth instead of rolling his eyes. He had given it all tonight, and it wouldn't have been better even if his wrist was unhurt.

"But, there is one small problem," the man kept on. "You constantly look like you're going to kill the spectators."

Ah, that must have been because of his wrist. He may have forced on the grimace too much. There was a low murmur of surprise among his friends. What was this guy's problem? Coming here and telling him how Jughead should act.

"Yeah, and?" Jughead asked.

"You can't give such a strong contradictory message. All your songs are about friendship, love and happiness, and then there's you..."

Archie was about to intervene, but Veronica held him back. Jug was glad for it. Be an apple-polisher first, rage after. He was used to people calling him broody, so the unsaid term didn't hurt him.

"I can be plenty of joy and happiness if I want." Jughead hissed showing that he, in fact, couldn't.

"Perfect! Then show it to me."

At this, Jughead's writs sent a painful signal to him. He couldn't play anymore tonight. Or if he did, he would be even worse than during the concert. There was no point in him playing.

"I'm not doing it again. I have to get going as early as possible."

"What, you have someplace to be?" Archie asked with surprise.

Jug shrugged, a common sign to say that he'd tell him after. But the man wasn't about to let this pass. He got angry and raised his voice.

"Mr Jones, I need you to show me your biggest smile, and wear lighter colors."

"That's stupid," Betty stepped up. "Why not let him wear whatever he wants?"

The man approached Jughead and pointed at him up and down. At this point, Jughead was really tempted to just tell them about his wrist, but it could be even worse. This guy looked like he could give them a bad mark if they just looked at him wrong. Plus, there was no way to guess what he'd do if he knew they had let a member play with an injury.

"Because that attire is not trendy right now. I can't give you a good mark if you don't show a bit of willingness!"

Everyone started speaking together. Jughead sighed. Might as well get done with it. He took off his jacket, his hat –yes he did- and laid it carefully on the table. He put on his brightest smile, the last one he had on hand. He grabbed his drumsticks and sat at the nearest chair. He could feel everyone look at him. Jughead sensed his hair falling in front of his eyes because of the lack of hold, but he didn't need to see to know what he was doing. He tippity-tapped in rhythm, not ever letting go of his smile. Keeping it when he knew it was just a facade was the hardest part. He played his part with energy. His hair went wild, floating when he moved his head to the nonexistent music. His wrist flared up so much that he had trouble holding the stick in his hand. At the end of the performance, it was shaking and screaming at him. Jughead clutched his jaws and dropped his smile. He shouldn't have done that.

He swallowed his pain and got up, opening his eyes at last. He was sending off a murderous look at anyone who caught his eyes. His friends were looking at him with a mix a pride, surprise and concern. Jug couldn't stay. He needed out. He wished he had more painkillers with him right now. He immediately put his hat back on and turned to look at the evaluator.

"Is that good enough for you?"

"Well, yes but…"

Taken by surprise, he had no time to finish his sentence before Jughead grabbed his jacket and rushed out. Everyone looked at him go, but no one made a move to stop him. The man frowned but kept his mouth shut. When they finally heard the front door close, they sprung to life again. Archie wanted to go after him but he was torn between their referee and Jughead's outburst, which had surprised all of them.

"Your drummer's a mess." The guy said. "You should get rid of him. Being emotional like that is never good in a group. Does he not have any groupthink?

"We're not getting rid of Jughead." Archie said, in a final tone.

The man raised an eyebrow, but he was met with decided faces. Not only Archie, but all of them were standing out for their friend. He was clearly outnumbered.

"All right, all right… But are you sure? Your group has a great tone, nice and friendly… It could do you some good. Even if he knows your scores."

"We're not giving it a second thought. We keep Jughead." This time it was Reggie. He had clearly enough of it. "There's no need to talk about it, or think about it… Jughead stays. Did you hear him play? He's the best drummer we could ask for."

Thankfully, Jughead wasn't here to hear him talk, or Reggie wouldn't have said those things. However, he felt himself blush a little as he knew that the others had heard him. He may have to answer for his actions later. The man was about to bounce back but he seemed to suddenly realize how determined they were and he stopped before speaking too fast.

"Well, I see. All right then. Your performance was good and you proved many points. You'll see my critic in the papers tomorrow."

They shook hands, and he left. The group started tidying up slowly, chatting silently.

"That man was very strange. I hope all of our evaluators won't be like that."

"Next time I won't be able to restrain myself," Archie said, seething. "Did you hear what he said about Jughead?"

Betty shook her head no. She was cleaning the table from their concert-snacks. "Poor Juggie wasn't even at his top. I saw him rub at his wrist before the concert."

"Did you?" Archie asked, surprised. "He didn't tell me something was wrong. You're sure you're not imagining things?"

"No way, Archiekins," Veronica intruded. "Have you not learned anything from me? Those gloves were horrendous looking. He was definitely hiding something."

Silence fell on them. In the end, no one had noticed anything strange except for Betty and Veronica, and it was not enough to conclude anything about their friend. What saddened them was that they didn't know if Jughead was acting moody, or if there was something wrong.