Integrating Southside students into Riverdale High was not an easy transition. Veronica, especially, was making the effort and dragging her conflicted friends along with her. After registration, she arranged for a few of Jughead's friends to join the gang in the common room for coffee and light refreshments. Although the conversation was forced and somewhat awkward, things were going pretty well, until a sudden interruption.

"You!" Principal Weatherbee roared at the students in the room. "Yes, you, come with me. Now!"

Archie, Veronica, Betty, Jughead, and several Serpents looked at one another, baffled, but followed the principal into the hallway.

Weatherbee stopped in the school's entryway. "Which of you defaced our school seal with this graffiti?"

"This is what they do, Mr. Weatherbee," Reggie sneered. "They tag their turf."

"My God, Reggie," Veronica interjected. "Could you be any more transparent?"

"Effective immediately," stated the principal. "No gang behavior of any kind will be tolerated in my school. As of this moment, no more Serpent jackets—"

From all around, cries of "What?" and "Are you kidding me?" erupted.

Weatherbee raised his voice to be heard, "No more Serpent jackets! Put them in your lockers now and do not bring them back on school grounds. All tattoos will be covered. Possession of any gang paraphernalia whatsoever will lead to immediate suspension. Are we clear?"

No one answered.

"Now get to class," the principal said, leaving angry Serpents and a few gloating football players to cast dirty looks at the other.


Jughead barely heard a word his English teacher said. He sat staring at The Crucible and thinking that Weatherbee was starting his own witch-hunt with the Serpents as his targets. Indignation was clouding the boy's judgment. What would happen if he put his jacket back on? What was really the worst outcome? Weatherbee would suspend him or call his father? How would FP respond? Jughead could not decide, but he was pretty confident that his dad would not be cool with him getting suspended.

"Jughead. Jughead?" called Mrs. Alston.

"Ma'am?" he replied, coming out of his daze.

"Well, honey," the old lady said sweetly. "Class is over. You may go."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks."

"And don't forget to read Act III tonight."

"I won't, Mrs. Alston."

As he headed to his locker, Jughead decided. He was not going to allow the Serpents to be vilified just because they were less affluent, less clean cut, less normal. The football players were just as wild, but did they ever get busted? No!

As he stomped through the hall, Jughead remembered that Mr. Weatherbee had disbanded the football team when Archie started the Red Circle nonsense. Of course, he'd reinstated them almost instantly when Archie apologized.

Well, Jones? the boy thought as he stared at his Serpents' jacket hanging in his locker. How far are you willing to take this?


"Hey, guys, what's up?" Jughead said as he walked into the common room, wearing the forbidden jacket.

The room, full of Southside and Northside kids, suddenly became very tense. Fangs and Toni gaped at Jughead, while Sweet Pea glowered at Toni. He had just been telling her that FP's kid was going to get them into trouble.

"Take it off," boomed Reggie. "Take off that jacket, Rat Boy."

"Oh, Reggie," Jug said, quietly. "I don't think you know what this jacket means. Because you have no sense of honor. Or history, or loyalty."

"—That's it!" the football star yelled, grabbing Jughead and instantly starting a Northside-Southside brawl. Fists were flying. Bodies slammed against walls. The room was in chaos, when suddenly an air horn's ferocious blast startled everyone into motionless silence.

Their angry principal pointed and firmly said, "To my office, gentlemen. Now."

Once all the students had arranged themselves on the bench in the front office, Mr. Weatherbee declared, "You all have a week's detention for fighting." The students grimaced and grumbled, but no one openly argued.

Then the principal stepped towards Jughead, who stood to face him.

"But I made myself clear to you, Mr. Jones. Take off that jacket, right now, or you're suspended."

"Please, Jughead, just—" Veronica began, but the boy cut her off.

"Then I guess I'm suspended," he said, and walked out of the office. The teenager felt bold and justified in his refusal, but as he walked off the school grounds he realized that he didn't know where he was going. Home? No…. Jughead's anger and sense of martyrdom were giving way to fear that the family threat that trouble at school would be followed by trouble at home might be fulfilled. He was not at all sure now how his father would react. Although he was pretty sure his dad was at work, he did not want to risk it.

So he headed to the Whyte Worm. Video games and a cheeseburger or two would make a good snack before lunch. And give him time to figure out what to tell his dad.

Hog Eye stood behind the bar cleaning. He greeted Jughead when he came in. After a moment, he added, "Burger?"

"Cheeseburger. Thanks, Hog Eye."

The man nodded and retreated to the kitchen.

Mortal Kombat II beckoned the boy. The club had rigged the machine to not need quarters, so he'd gotten pretty good at it. After he'd wolfed down his second burger, Jughead went back to the game. As he played, he tried to imagine the conversation he might have with his dad. None seemed likely to go his way. Frustrated he slammed his hand on the side of the machine.

"Now, you break that, you buy it," a stern voice stated.

The teen turned to see his father standing next to the bar.

"How'd you know I was here?" he asked.

"Hog Eye called me," his dad said. "What's up, Hog Eye?"

"FP," the barman said, glancing at Jughead and shrugging an apology.

"You wanna explain to me why the hell you're not in school?" FP said evenly.

"Yes. Weatherbee has been disrespecting the Serpents. He's been targeting us. He told us to take off our jackets."

"Wear 'em after school," his father said unconcernedly.

"A Serpent never sheds its skin," Jughead retorted.

"I know the laws, boy," FP said, sounding angry for the first time. "What's goin' on, Jug?"

"The Serpents are being targeted. It isn't fair."

"Fair," his dad calmed down a bit, even smiled. "Yeah, life is rarely fair. You know that. Do you think I like cleaning toilets and shoveling slop? No. But it's what I gotta do. Going to Riverdale High, obeying Weatherbee's rules, that's what you gotta do. Understand?"

"Yeah," the boy said, nodding.

"Come on. Let's go home."

Maybe, Jughead thought, maybe I won't be in trouble at all. Maybe that was all, just talking. He relaxed as they walked to his dad's truck.

Father and son chatted amiably on the ride. The phone was ringing as they entered the trailer.

His dad, reaching for the phone, said, "Jug, will you make me a sandwich before I go to work? …Hello? …Yes, this is he."

The boy smeared peanut butter and jelly on bread as his dad talked on the phone.

"Uh-huh. …Really? No, he did not tell me that. …How long? …Yes, I understand. I will take care of it. ...Thank you for calling. …Yeah. Ok, good-bye."

Jughead stood frozen. He knew the call had to be from Weatherbee. Oh, man, this is gonna be bad, he thought.

"Fighting? Defiance? Suspended? Failed to mention a few things, didn't you?" FP's voice was hard again. He sounded dangerous.

"Sorry, Dad, I should have told you right away."

"Yeah, you damn well should have. Go get the belt."

"What?" Jughead snapped around to face his father.

"You heard me, boy. Go get it. No way you're not getting a whipping."

"Dad…" he implored.

"Jughead, if I have to say it again, the situation will get worse. Move."

But the boy stood, immobile.

"Fine. Have it your way," FP said after a long moment. He went to the front door and walked outside.

Jughead's mind was buzzing. He got the flushed, dizzy feeling he always had before a whipping. He struggled with a terrible urge to laugh, standing there in the kitchen with grape jelly running down the knife and making a mess on the counter. It was so absurd.

His father's boots clomped back up the trailer's steps and the door opened. FP held a long twig in his hand.

"I don't know what's going on with you, Jughead. But lying, fighting, getting suspended… That's not you."

His father's eyes seemed to be boring into his own. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

The boy shook his head no.

"Turn around. Drop your pants. And grab onto the sink."

Jughead did as he was told, not really believing what was happening. With his jeans pushed to his knees, he bent over and grasped the metal sink.

Swish. The sting started slow, but rapidly became hundreds of bee stings. The boy's breath seemed knocked out of him.

Again the switch fell. It intersected the first's mark.

Swish. Smack. Tears rolled down the boy's cheeks, though he made no sound.

Swish. Finally Jughead gasped, oxygen rushing in. He began to shake.

Swish. Whack. His entire backside seemed to be on fire.

Swish. Thwack. The teen squeezed the edge of the sink so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"That's it, son. Stand up."

Jughead did as he was told. FP watched him closely, as he snapped the switch in half.

"My dad was a tough man. I don't remember him hugging me much. Certainly not after he beat my ass." A moment later FP wrapped his arms around his son. Sobs wracked the boy's body. Finally, Jughead pulled away.

"Sorry, Dad."

"All's forgiven. Let's get a move on, though. I've got work and you've got school."

"But I am suspended."

"Only until you've taken the jacket off. I assume you are willing to do that, right?" FP asked.

"Ah, yeah, but… do I have to go back today? How's that gonna look? I get suspended for refusing to take it off, and then my dad brings me back without it."

"I don't care how it looks. It is what it is. You're going back. Tell your friends whatever you want. It's none of their business."

With that, FP snapped his fingers, indicating that his son needed to hand him the jacket.

"You can wear this after school and on weekends. Got it?"

"Got it," the boy said glumly.

"Come on. Let's go."

"Dad, you still want this sandwich?"

"Yeah, you want to drive the truck so I can eat?"

Jughead perked up and caught the keys his dad tossed him. As he eased himself on to the seat, the boy groaned involuntarily.

His dad chuckled.

"This is funny to you?"

"Not exactly. Just remembering how often I was in that position. The lesson never seemed to stick, somehow."

The teen gave his father a bewildered look. "What is wrong with you?"

Now his dad laughed in earnest. "Because I couldn't avoid a whipping? Oh, I don't know. Guess I was just mischievous. It was never the things that you'd think he'd whip me for. …Mostly it was for getting caught."

"Well, that explains a lot about you."

His dad laughed again. They rode along in silence for a while as FP ate.

Finally the man asked, "So, belt or switch…?"

"Neither," Jughead quickly replied. "I don't understand the question."

"Which is worse? Me, I would take the belt any day. But my dad never hit me as hard or as long with a switch. But still…."

"Switch was way worse! Evil sting."

"Yeah. Agreed. So, I just want to make it clear, Jughead," his father said, sounding serious. "The way you really messed up today was not telling me any of the stuff that went down. I mean I'm not going to throw you a party for fighting, defying your principal, or getting suspended. And all three at once, pretty much guaranteed I'd bust your butt. But don't keep stuff from me. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yeah, I understand. I was gonna tell you, I think. But Weatherbee beat me to it."

Jughead pulled up in front of Riverdale High.

"Hey, survive the day, and tonight we can go see a movie at the Bijou."

"Sure. Sounds good. See ya later," the boy called as his dad drove off.


Jughead went straight to the office and knocked on Mr. Weatherbee's door.

"Come in. ...Mr. Jones? You've been suspended. Why are you back on school grounds?"

"I know, but my dad brought me back."

"That still does not explain why I should allow you to come back before tomorrow."

"My dad took my jacket, and he made it really clear that I am not to fight or defy you again. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused."

"I see. Have a seat, Mr. Jones."

"Could I stand, please?"

"No. You may not."

Jughead nodded and tried to sit without gasping or squirming. When he made eye contact again with Mr. Weatherbee, he was certain that the man had correctly interpreted his reluctance to sit.

After a long pause, the principal said, "Okay, Mr. Jones. You may return to the rest of your classes. Any future fighting or defiance will result in a three-day suspension. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"What classes do you have left today?"

"Chemistry, economics, and French."

"Good. Hopefully that will keep your mind occupied. Mrs. Staley will write you a pass for chemistry. Have a calm rest of your day, Mr. Jones."

"Thank you, Mr. Weatherbee. You too."

After he had collected his pass, Jughead sauntered down the hall. How would he make it through these classes? For a moment, he contemplated ditching, but he couldn't risk it.

Mr. Jay took the pass and told the boy that his lab partner would catch him up. Archie was working by himself, concentrating on the task. When he looked up, he nearly spilled the contents of the tube he held.

"Hey, man. Ronnie said you got suspended today. How are you back?"

"I did get suspended. But my dad found out and brought me back," Jughead grimaced.

"And Weatherbee relented?"

"I think he …felt sorry for me. I did promise to be a good boy," the teen smiled wickedly at his friend.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Archie snorted. "So, was your dad pissed?"

"More pissed that he heard about it from Weatherbee and not from me. And, yeah, really pissed. Let's just say that I am glad it's a lab day. Economics and French will be the worst."

"What do you mean, other than when Monsieur Lemaire says, 'Archie, you murder the French.'"

Jughead laughed, "Actually, that's my favorite part of French class. …I just mean… I've been scarred. Sitting this afternoon will be torture."

"Oooh," his redheaded friend whispered, comprehension dawning. "That will be bad. Good luck, man. Maybe you could fake a headache and go lie down in the nurse's office."

"Maybe. But I don't want my dad to hear I missed class. He's got his spies, it seems."

Archie raised his eyebrows, but didn't ask.


Once chemistry was over, the boys made their way through the hallway to their next class. Clearly news of Jughead's suspension had made the rounds, because students whispered as they passed.

"What is this?" announced an outraged voice. "You got suspended, Rat Boy. Or did you already forget?"

"Reggie…," Jug started, sounding tired.

"Reggie, shut it. Leave him alone, already," interrupted Archie.

"No one is talking to you, Andrews," the football player scowled. "So…rules don't apply to the Serpent Prince? Is that it?"

"What do you want, Reggie," Jughead answered. "I'm not wearing my jacket. What more do you want?"

"I want you out of this school, Rat Boy. I want you and your Southside scum to crawl back in the sewers where you came from! You don't belong here. You're a thug… just like your father."

"Hey—" the black-haired boy shouted.

"That's outta line, Reggie!" Archie pushed in front of Jughead.

"Mr. Mantle," a firm voice from behind them snapped.

Archie and Jughead turned to see Mr. Weatherbee glowering at Reggie. "Mr. Mantle, I don't like what I just heard. I think your father will like it even less. Please join me in my office."

Now it was the football star's turn to scowl. He shoved by both boys and followed Mr. Weatherbee silently.

"Well, that will make economics and French a little more enjoyable," smiled Archie.

"Maybe," said Jughead, still looking furious. "Maybe if I thought he'd get in even half as much trouble as I did…."

"I know, but come on. We're going to be late to class."

The last classes of the day weren't as bad as the boy had feared. Although Jug was uncomfortable sitting, Archie entertained him and made the time go by more quickly. During French, Veronica reported that Reggie had been suspended and that an angry Mr. Mantle had practically dragged him out of the school.

Jughead and Archie exchanged surprised looks, but said nothing.

After their presentations on various French holidays, school was over and Jughead was free. He hoped to take a long nap, see a movie with his dad, and go to bed early. Man, it had been a rough day. He wasn't even hungry.


The next morning a slightly-sore Jughead was settled in English, trying to finish the last part of Act III of The Crucible when Reggie Mantle sat down next to him.

"Jones," the boy said, in a tone that caught Jug off-guard. Reggie had none of his usual arrogance and swagger.

"Jones, look, I'm sorry for everything yesterday."

"What? What are you talking about, Reggie?"

"I don't really think you are trash or that you should be kicked out. …I don't know why I said all that."

"Did Weatherbee put you up to this?" the black-haired teen asked suspiciously.

"No," the football player snapped.

When Jughead looked unconvinced, Reggie admitted, "Okay, my dad made me. Apparently, he and your dad are actually friends. If he found out I didn't apologize…. Well, if anybody asks, just tell them I did. …Okay?"

"Why should I?"

"Jughead," the athlete said, sounding nervous. "Please don't mess with me. My dad will kick my ass… some more."

Jug nodded his head, surprised. "Geez, I guess they are friends. …Don't worry, Reggie. If anyone asks, I tell 'em the truth. As long as you leave me and the rest of the Serpents alone."

"Will do, Jones," Reggie said and stuck his hand out. The two boys shook, just as Mrs. Alston called the class to order.


Author's note: My last Riverdale story will be about Jughead, the snake charmer, and FP. If you want to read it, leave me a review. Remember, any review is welcome as long as it's good, bad, or constructive, but not ugly. Thank you.