What surprised me about the days following Jason's memorial was the fact that I seemed to have more energy now that it was over. Like I'd taken a Red Bull in letting it go. Or because I was now focused on a new task. The plan now was to find Jason's killer and make sure Betty didn't get herself into trouble at the same time. It wouldn't be too hard, considering she was having her own investigation for the Blue & Gold, the school newspaper.
Jughead had told me about it days ago. But if I was going to follow through on both of my promises, I was going to have to stick myself in the middle of a Betty and Jughead sandwich. That didn't sound too appealing to the outside listener. Even though it was necessary. Before school, I found the Blue & Gold's office of sorts. I rapped my knuckles against the open door. The gesture seemed to startle Betty, who was sitting on the edge of a table behind the one Jughead sat at with his computer.
She looked to have been analyzing something on her cell phone when I interrupted. So I gestured to it as I walked in. "What are you up to?" I asked, letting my backpack slide off my right shoulder. Betty didn't answer at first. She seemed too startled to. But Jughead spoke up almost immediately, without a care.
"Looking for Polly," he said.
"You were friends with my sister, right?" Betty asked me, almost timidly.
I dropped my back pack onto the table behind Jughead's laptop. "Yeah. I mean, sort of. We were really only friends because of Jason," I answered, dropping into the chair in front of my back pack. My shoulders moved up in a loose shrug. "What do you wanna know?"
"Do you know where she is?" Betty asked, pushing off the table she sat on top of.
I'd been afraid she would ask me eventually. Alice didn't know I'd snooped through her house when I'd come over to hang out with Betty. She didn't know I knew her darkest secret. My hesitation to answer caused Jughead to glance up, his fingers frozen as they hovered above the keyboard. "Do you?" he asked, in surprise.
"I was doing a bit of an investigation of my own, weeks ago. We may not have been the closest of friends but I would have known if Polly was suicidal," I squinted in an expression. I reached for my back pack and opened the flap, digging a hand inside. "What sealed it for me, is that they didn't send her to a mental institution or a rehab center. You know—a place where a suicidal person can take meds and actually get better? Here."
I pulled out the folded and somewhat crinkled sheet i'd printed from Alice's home computer and held it out toward Jughead. He snatched it, but Betty came over behind him to scan it over his shoulder. "Sisters of Quiet Mercy?" Betty asked, her eyebrows knitting together. "What is that?"
"It's a home for troubled teens," I leaned back in my seat.
"Wait a second. That's my mom's email address on the header," Betty looked up from the paper at me in shock. "Did you get this from my mom's computer?"
A small smile came to my face as I thought about rubbing it in Alice's face. If only she knew. I held up a finger to my lips in a shushing motion and she looked back down at the paper, still quite stuck in her shock and disbelief. It seemed to be clicking though, when exactly I had time to get my hands on it.
"Why didn't you say anything before?" Jughead asked, looking up at me.
"What was I supposed to do with that information?" I countered, loosely folding my arms. "I figured I would tell Betty when she was ready—and she is. Now."
Betty stood up straight. "So...what do you want out of this? I mean, why are you here?"
I sat up and closed my bag. "I want to help find Polly. I owe it to Jason to make sure she's alright. Is that okay with you guys?"
It was a genuine question. If Betty didn't want me helping their investigation, I would just start my own. But I didn't want to encroach on something exclusively reserved for blondes and social outcasts. There was a pause. Betty looked down at Jughead, Jughead looked up at Betty, and they both shrugged. Turning back to me, Jughead said, "You're in."
We'd skipped out after lunch and taken a bus to Sisters of Quiet Mercy. It looked like a grungy concrete dungeon from the outside. it was disgusting. "Hey. Don't just a home for trouble youths by its facade, right?" Jughead quipped, somewhat quietly. Betty readjusted her pony tail as I gave Jughead a look. He shrugged, with an expression that said he didn't know what else to say, causing me to roll my eyes.
Betty started for the building without a word, and Jughead and I quickly followed. The inside didn't look much better than the outside. Lack of lighting, pale walls, old tile flooring. It was pitiful. Why would anyone send their child there? We followed Betty up to the small front desk. A woman sat behind it. But the desk looked more like an old movie theater ticket booth. Then it really felt like a prison.
"Hi. My name is Elizabeth Cooper," Betty said. "I'm here to see my sister, Polly?"
"May I see some identification?" the woman asked, sitting forward.
Betty dug out her student ID and handed it to the woman. After one look, the older woman slid forward a clipboard. "Sign in please," she instructed. "He'll have to wait." She was refereing to Jughead. At that, I was actually glad I decided to go for Betty's sake. After Betty signed in, I signed my name, too. Then the woman lead us through the dungeony hallways. I'd never been claustrophobic in my entire life. But being inside that building made me feel odd things.
"Polly's room is right this way," the woman said. "Though, right now it's silent reflection time. She usually spends that time in the Garden of Deliverance."
Betty stopped for a second at Polly's room, glancing in. Stepping over to her, I put my hand on her shoulder, and she gave me a small, pouty smile. And I understood. Not everything. I'd never had a family member committed before. But I have lost people. Thinking back on it made me feel exactly how Betty was feeling right then. We continued on.
The woman lead us to the back of the building and outside through a large set of open doors. The vast area of grass and trees, with small areas of sporadic flowers, was truly beautiful. If only they could have brought some of that inside the building. The woman stopped once we'd walked a bit, and she gestured a hand out as she looked to us. Betty nodded in thanks and took my wrist and she continued to walk. Maybe it was for support?
Maybe it was for nothing at all? Either way, I stayed with Betty all the way into the Garden of Deliverance. It was an exceptionally small garden. The only blonde in it had to be Polly. She stood with her back to us, messing with some tall roses. Betty stopped walking, so I did, too. "Polly?" Betty's voice was small, but hopeful.
The blonde turned around. It was Polly. She looked surprised to see any familiar face—let alone two. "Betty? Diana?"
She rushed toward us and Betty dropped my hand to hug her sister. Normally I wasn't the type to feel all mushy at a family reunion. If anything, I was the type to elbow someone and shout for them to get over it. But this was different. I helped put Polly here. I may not have signed the papers or paid the residency, but my actions lead to this. My encouragement to 'follow their dreams' brought Jason to his death and Polly to Quiet Mercy.
When Polly pulled away from Betty, both Betty and I noticed a large swell in Polly's stomach. I wasn't expecting that. Jason never mentioned any kind of pregnancy. Neither did Polly. I guessed Jason thought I didn't need to know. "Polly...you're..." Betty was at a loss for words. And, frankly, so was I. "...with Jason's..."
"Please be happy for me," Polly practically begged, glancing quickly between Betty and me.
"We are," Betty quickly assured. "I'm just...so sorry I didn't come sooner. I wanted to but mom and dad- they stopped-"
Polly quickly interrupted, "What did they tell you? That I was on drugs? Alcohol?"
"They said you were sick. That you tried to hurt yourself," Betty answered.
"And they told me no one wanted to come and see me, which I knew was a lie," Polly sighed lightly. Then her eyes flickered to me, still standing a few feet back from them. I expected her to react differently than she did. I expected her to be angry. To resent me. I'd failed. But instead, she walked to me and put her arms around me in a hug. "I'm so happy to see you, too, Diana. Don't think I forgot about you."
I hugged her back. And finally, I cried. Burying my face in the shoulder of her cardigan. It had been eating at me for weeks—the guilt I had for even going through with the plan to stage Jason's death. That, mixed with the sadness of losing Jason and the regret of being apart of the reason Polly ended up here, finally flooded me. Everything flooded me. Archie cheating on me, Ben non-stop controlling my life, having to lie to Jughead, losing Sweet Pea, FP betraying me.
The list was endless, it seemed. Polly ran her hand up and down my back soothingly. "It's okay, Diana. It's not your fault. It's my mom and dad—not you," she tried to assure me, with a sickly sweet voice. It was drenched in sweetness but it was somehow comforting. "Don't blame yourself."
I nodded a little, pulling away. My wrists rubbed at my cheeks. "I'm sorry. I've been through a lot lately. It's just...really good to see you, Polly."
"What's happened?" Polly asked, curiously, intrigued.
Polly always did have a soft spot for listening to my problems. She sat through almost two hours of me venting one night. I'd never given her enough credit for that. "I, um...I'm not dating Archie anymore," I said, slowly. She looked a little saddened at that, sympathetic. "I met someone else, though. But I think I'm going through a Polly and Jason right now."
I chuckled a little to ease myself out of my emotional funk. Polly chuckled a bit, too. "Diana, I'm going to tell you what you told me. Don't listen to them—whoever's telling you not to. If he makes you happy...just be with him," she said, with a soft certainty.
Betty looked in awe of her sister, but she also seemed intrigued by the conversation's turn. I tried steering it away from me, asking about why she ended up in here. She told Betty and me all about why she was sent to live in here. Her parents. The Coopers and the Blossoms had a blood feud that burned hot enough to scramble an egg. When Jason and Polly started dating, and the Blossom's found out, they forced Jason to break up with Polly.
They didn't want their son being with a Cooper girl. Then she delved into some details of the plan on July fourth. That she was supposed to meet Jason on the other side of the river. But then she said that her mother had already found out, and she never made it out of the house that morning. Not for anything other than to be put in the back of a van and shipped to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Her next words caused both Betty and I pause. "Have you talked to him? Does he know I'm here?"
"Who, Polly?" Betty asked, unsure.
"Jason," she replied, instantly. "If I give him a message, will you make sure he gets it? What does he think happened? He knows i'm here because of mom and dad, right?"
"Polly, you don't understand-" I quickly shook my head.
"I can fix this, guys, I know I can," Polly pressed. "You just have to help me get out of here. I'll go to meet meet him—at the car on the lost highway off of Route Forty. 'Once you pass the old maple syrup sign, then you'll know you're almost there'. See? I remember. I packed—we packed. We'll go to the farm just like we planned-"
"Polly, stop!" Polly quieted upon Betty's sudden outburst. "Jason, he's..."
She searched for the words, only causing Polly's eyes to sink further into worry. It was taking her too long. Someone had to say it. At least, that's what I told myself a split second before destroying Polly Cooper's world. "He's dead, Polly," I said, quickly. Polly's eyes immediately welled with tears as they moved to meet mine. And I instantly regretted saying anything at all.
"Young ladies, come with me," the older woman from before suddenly appeared beside me and Betty.
The woman looked slightly perturbed. But neither of us asked. We followed her back into the building, only for her to leave us in a small office looking room with only one window. She'd said to stay put. Though, neither Betty nor I liked that idea. Betty tried calling Jughead, hefting her phone into the sky by the window. "Anything?" I asked, sitting on top of the only table in the room.
She shook her head. "No signal."
Not a second after the words left her mouth, and the door whipped open. I twisted, only to find that Alice Cooper was our visitor. She closed the door behind her with an ever present scowl. "Mom, what are you doing here?" Betty questioned, almost venomous.
"I pay the sisters good money, you think they don't notify me when she gets a visitor? Or two?" at 'two', she turned her scowl on me. I scowled right back. "You're leaving now—both of you."
She grabbed Betty's arm and Betty sighed, letting her mother drag her from the room. An orderly made sure I followed along with the Coopers. We were walking rather quickly through the hall. As we got to a fork in the road, Polly walked around the corner. She had been heading the other way, but stopped when she saw her mother. "Mom?"
"Polly..." Alice was speechless.
Polly walked closer. "Jason's dead, and you didn't tell me? And you kept me in here?!"
"Baby, it's for your own good," Alice promised.
Orderlies grabbed Polly, pulling her away from Alice. "Ugh! You always say that and it's true!" Polly shouted, crying in her frustration. "No- Betty!"
Betty rushed forward. She and Polly hugged tightly for a fleeting moment, clinging on to whatever pieces they had left of each other, and then Polly was ripped away by the orderlies and drug further down the hall away from us. "You're a witch, Alice Cooper," I looked right at Alice.
She looked to be in tears from the sight of her daughter. Her head turned toward me before I started leading myself out of the building, and I caught a glimpse of her surprised expression. Surprised that I had the nerve to speak in her presence, probably. But I didn't care. Thanks to Polly, I had my own advice to follow.
The crazy thing about mornings since Ben's flight out of Riverdale was Jughead's insane ways of waking me up when I slept past one snooze on my alarm. But that morning was different. My whole body was shaking violently, thrusting me out of a deep sleep. I woke with a startle. My body lurched up into a sitting position and Jughead recoiled to miss getting hit in the face. "What the...Jug, my alarm hasn't even gone off yet!" I protested, rubbing my eyes.
I sat up further, bringing my knees almost to my chest. Jughead shoved my phone in my face the second my hands moved. "This thing has been buzzing for two hours, Diana!" he countered, agitated and groggy. His hair was the telltale sign of a lack of sleep. Bits were pressed to the side of his head, other strands were sticking straight up.
Sighing heavily, I apologized, snatching my phone from his hand. He immediately walked back over to the love seat and literally threw his weight into it. Then he pulled the blanket up over him and buried his face into the back cushion. I rolled my eyes. Mostly because they were still trying to wake up. Then I looked down at my phone. Jughead was right—it must have been going off for a while, what with half a dozen missed calls.
They were all from one number. It was FP's trailer. Why FP would be calling me so many times at five o'clock in the morning was beyond my half-sleep mind's comprehension. But, against my better judgment, I pushed back the blanket and climbed up from the warmth of my comforter. Bumps rushed up my arms and I folded them close to my body to keep myself somewhat warm as I took my phone downstairs. It was too early for Cash to be awake, thankfully.
So I sat on the living room couch and took a deep breath, then I dialed FP's trailer. I held the phone up to my ear as it rang. My hand rubbed at my right eye. This was too early to be dealing with FP—or Serpent—garbage. If this was an apology, it could've waited. It should've waited. But as soon as I heard FP's voice come through the speaker, I knew something was wrong. "Why are you calling me so early?" I questioned, demanding the answer.
"Some of the boys got into a pretty big fight last night. Your boy's all banged up—he's passed out on my couch. Thought you'd wanna be here when he woke up," FP answered, almost timidly.
I couldn't believe what he was saying. Any word of it. Or that he even spoke that whole sentence. If the goal was to keep me away from Sweet Pea, why would he tell me to come see him? It made no sense. But all my heart heard was that Sweet Pea was hurt and I needed to start moving. My body reacted instantly, getting up and hurrying to the stairs on my toes.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," I'd said, before hanging up the phone.
I'd run up the stairs and flung my door open so fast it hit the wall behind it. My feet carried me on air to the closet. I wasn't really thinking fashion or practicality. All I was thinking was fast. So I grabbed a sweat shirt and pulled it over my head, then traded out my pajama shorts for a pair of faded jeans. "Jug! Jughead! I've gotta go, can you walk Cash to school?" I asked, racing to sit on the bed in order to put on my sneakers.
Jughead was half asleep. But he rolled over, eyes tightly squeezed shut, and he replied, "Uh...yeah. But- where are you going?"
"Can't explain- call me if something happens!"
I'd thrown the words over my shoulder as I lurched up from my bed. There was just enough time to grab a pony tail holder on my way out of the room. My hands worked quickly to round up my hair as I ran to the door, then tighten up my hair into a high pony tail as I left the house. I at least remembered to slow down and lock the house back up before I left. But I didn't really leave. I flew.
My feet were moving faster than they ever had before down that sidewalk I ran every morning. It was a dead sprint through the neighborhood, through the early morning fog, through the dimly lit beginnings of a sunrise. I'm sure it looked pathetic. An extra shade of desperate. But I didn't care. I would have been gasping for air when I reached the Sunnyside Trailer Park on the other side of town if it weren't for my anxiety, all the adrenaline.
I was still in a half-run, following the familiar path to FP's trailer. I'd been there so many times that nothing that ever happened to me could possibly make me forget it. My feet hopped up the steps and my knuckles beat against FP's door. It opened a second later. FP looked at me with vague surprise. "Wow...that was fast," he remarked, with dry sarcasm. Then he pulled open the door a little more, stepping back, and I slipped inside.