I pulled up next to Kevin's truck and parked. Cheryl, Reggie, and Kevin were sitting on the hood. It was disgusting, that fact that they were here to cheer or boo—like this was some stupid Riverdale High football game they could score. I made it a point of slamming my door, only further announcing my arrival, before heading toward Jughead and Betty. They stood at the end of Jughead's car, looking pretty serious with whatever they were saying.

It was ended when Jughead looked up and noticed me. "Diana," he said, as I came to stand to the side of Betty. "You're just in time—we're about to start. Where's Sweet Pea? I thought he'd come with you."

"He's not feeling well, so I came alone," I replied, sliding my hands into my pockets.

Betty looked to me then. "Is he okay?"

"He will be, just needs to rest," It was a quick dismissal of her faux concern, but I truly didn't know the answer to her question. All I knew was that I felt like I should be there with him at the trailer. I knew I needed to be here with Jughead. I knew there was no way to do both. After a quick glance to Betty, I looked at Jughead with a singular nod. "Where do you want me?"

Breaking the chatter easily, Tall Boy bellowed, "LET'S DO THIS!"

The individual groups—South, North, and Ghoulie—all cheered and shouted approvingly. Sighing, I stayed a second longer after Betty went to join the other North siders at Kevin's truck. Jughead looked at me knowingly. "I'll be fine," he assured.

I nodded quickly, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and shoulders in a tight embrace. It could only last a minute or it would hold him up. So I had to let go and retreat to the group of Serpents on the other side of the gravel lot. "Let's get these cars on the road!" Tall Boy shouted, as Jughead and Malachi each climbed into their respective vehicles.

This was important. But I found myself checking the clock on my phone. "Got a hot date?" Toni asked, giving me a sideways glance. Her words caused me to sigh at myself, shaking my head as I slid my phone away. Then, more seriously, she added, "None of us would blame you if you had to slip out, you know."

"No, no- I need to be here for Jughead. But, thanks, Toni," I gave her the best smile I could manage.

She smiled back before walking toward the cars. It was typically her job to do the honors, starting the race. But I noticed Cheryl marching on without pause, walking straight for the starting line past Toni. "I usually do the honors," Toni told her, turning to face her.

"Not today, Cha-cha," Cheryl swiveled on her heels to see Toni as she kept walking. "I was born for this moment."

It wasn't something I normally would've expected, but I was a little impressed. It amazed me how Cheryl could stay her even through everything going on in her life. She was still feisty, gave people unbearable nicknames, and practically owned Riverdale High. My life starts falling apart? I completely crumble. I briefly debated asking her how she did it when Toni came back to stand beside me. "That girl's a piece of work," she said, exhaling.

I chuckled once at Toni's words, but a vibration in my jacket caused me to pause before replying. At the last minute, I elected to ignore the interruption and finally replied to Toni, "You have no idea."

Cheryl stepped up in front of the cars and pushed on her red sunglasses. That's when I started to feel it—more vibration. Someone was trying to call me. Whoever it was, I decided, could wait. This was too important. So I ignored it, and watched as Cheryl marked the start of the race. The engines of both cars roared and the vehicles sped off into incredibly fast speeds. Crowd members cheered louder than the engines, chasing after them a ways in support.

Another set of vibrations marked the third attempt to contact me. It would have to be something important, if in fact it was the same person each time. So I dug into my pocket and pulled out my phone. The caller ID read as FP's home number. And, with FP being in jail, I knew it wasn't him. Who else could it be? you ask. I quickly answered the call, holding it up to my ear. "Cash? Is everything okay?"

I had to plug my left ear with my finger in order to hear her small voice at all. Although, the fact that she was screaming helped. "DIANA! WHERE ARE YOU?" she shouted, her usually joyous voice overcome with an unprecedented fear that sent a shiver down my spine. "SOMETHING HAPPENED TO SWEET PEA! WE DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM—HE WON'T WAKE UP!"

My eyes were glossed over orbs at the sound of her words. I could only manage to reply, "Hold on—I'm coming! Stay with him, Cash!"

I ended the call and bolted across the lot to the truck. The keys fumbling in my shaking hands, it was hard to start the thing. But, once I did, I was flooring it out of there. So much so that dust spewed up from the gravel. My speed was sure to leave tire marks. I had to tell myself over and over that Jughead would understand. Surely, he would understand. Wouldn't he? If something happened to Pea...Jughead would understand why I left.

It was a genuine surprise no cop tried to pull me over. If they did, they would have a high-speed car chase on their hands. There was no way I was stopping. And I didn't, not until I burned black marks in the grass in front of the trailer. Don't ask me what that grass ever did to deserve that—because I honestly have no idea. The truck was still running, I left the door open, when I ran to the front door to the trailer.

Fangs, to my surprise, burst through the door before I reached it. "Come on—hurry! He's barely breathing, Diana," he spoke quickly, in sheer panic. I was panicked, too. But it came off as calm, focus. Despite the fact that I was about to start shaking too hard to function. My hands trembled at my sides as I followed Fangs quickly to the back bedroom, where Cash stood beside the bed, Sweet Pea's seemingly lifeless body laying there in front of her.

Tears streamed her cheeks, though she looked more scared than sad. I rushed to the side of the bed and Fangs pulled Cash toward the end of it to keep her out of the way. Lord knows I would've bulldozed right over her in my state of mind. Sweet Pea was an ungodly shade of pale, skin glistening with beads of sweat, his head slumped onto his shoulder. The first thing I did—the only thing I could think to do—was check for a pulse.

I could barely feel anything at all. It was hard to tell what was my mind messing with me and what was real. Regardless, he felt completely still. That's when I made a command decision, one that probably should've been made a lot sooner. "Fangs, help me get him into the truck," I said, briefly glancing at Fangs over my shoulder. "We have to get him to the hospital—now!"

Fangs let go of Cash only to come help me. He took Sweet Pea's upper half, I took his legs, and together we struggled to maneuver the massive teenager through the cramped trailer to the door. Cash trailed just behind Fangs, as I was walking backward carrying Sweet Pea's legs. "I thought hospitals were off limits-?" Fangs began to ask rhetorically, still very much panicked.

"I don't care!" I snapped, in my over-emotional state of being. "Look at him, Fangs—he's dying! Do you want him to die?"

Fangs quickly shook his head, "No."

"Then let's hurry, okay?"

He tried readjusting his arms under Sweet Pea's, bettering his ability to carry him—as small an improvement as it was. We hefted Sweet Pea out to the truck and got him in the passenger seat. Cash ran around to the driver's side in front of me and climbed up into the middle seat beside Sweet Pea. I climbed into the driver's seat after her. Fangs jumped into the bed of the truck, slapping the side when he was seated.

Seconds after his cue, I was flooring it back out of the trailer park. If the truck had hazard lights, they would be on, but that was something FP neglected to think needed in an automobile. Being on the South Side, we were even farther away from the hospital than Archie was when he drove his father to the ER while the man was bleeding through his gut. The odds of getting him there in time were slim. But I drove fast regardless.

The pedal was pressed to the floor of the cab the entire drive through the South Side, then through the North, until we reached the Emergency parking at the hospital. Brakes squealing, the front tires popped up on the curb, but it didn't matter. I was immediately out and so was Fangs, both of us scrambling for the passenger door. "Cash, go get a doctor!" I told her, loud enough to hear from the other side of the truck.

Cash nodded quickly and unbuckled, sliding out of the truck. She ran as fast as her little legs could carry her through the Emergency doors and disappeared from my sight, but I could hear her voice shouting incoherent things once inside. Once again, Fangs took the heavier load and hefted Sweet Pea's torso, while I resumed my position holding his legs. We shuffled quickly in through the doors. Cash had garnered the attention of a few nurses and Dr. Masters was even coming around.

I would've been praising her, full of pride, had the circumstances not been so dire. Fangs and I carried Sweet Pea in, and the nurses helped us lift him onto the gurney they'd rolled to us just past the door. "What happened?" Dr. Masters asked, as they began to push the gurney toward Doctors Only doors.

My feet moved quickly to keep up with them, all the while trying to keep my thoughts straight enough to answer him. "I- I don't know—I thought he was sick. Dizziness, coughing, fever. I left only for thirty minutes when my sister called me and said he was barely breathing," I explained, in a rush. "He looked like this when I got there."

Dr. Masters began directing nurses and barking orders, naming things I couldn't possible remember enough to repeat. They wheeled Sweet Pea through the doors to the restricted section of hospital. I just about followed through, but Fangs' arms wrapped around my torso, grabbing me and pulling me back to stop me. It was hard not to fight him, but it was harder not to fall apart. Cash caught up to us then, out of breath.

"Is he going to be okay?" she questioned, her breathless voice full of worry.

I couldn't answer her. I just couldn't force myself to speak. Fangs, seemingly sensing this, answered instead. "He's going to be okay—they're gonna fix him up," he said, only to reassure her. He couldn't stand to see her like that—shoot, neither could I. "Let's go to the waiting room, okay? We'll hang out there until he's ready to go home."

She nodded tiredly, relieved. "Okay."

Fangs pulled me with his arms still around me, now loosening a little. "Diana...come on. We can't do anything for him right now," he said, his voice quiet so close to my ear. Reluctantly, against my heart's wishes, I went along with him and Cash back to the waiting room. Fangs shortly let go of me on the walk there, and he sat with Cash as soon as we arrived. But there was no way I could sit still. Not right then. It was too fresh.

So I didn't. Instead, I elected to go to the bathroom and then try to get ahold of the other Serpents. Fangs was reluctant to let me go anywhere alone. But I stressed that I was pregnant and I had to pee. It worked. I pushed through the door to the women's bathroom and I was thankful to find myself alone. The first thing I did was run the cold water and splash way too much of it in my face. I scrubbed my facial skin, grinding in the cold water.

As if that was somehow going to make it more effective. After I turned off the water, I dried my face with the crummy paper towels from the half broken dispenser by the door. It was all too fast. Just this morning, Sweet Pea was more than okay. He was capable of fighting against restraints and police officers—he looked healthy, unstoppable. Now...now he was fighting for his life. But why? That was the part I couldn't figure out. Why Sweet Pea? Why now?

Pushing my thoughts aside, I did in fact pull out my phone and dial Jughead's number. The hope was that the race was over and he would be able to answer. If not, my next call would've been to Toni. But, surprisingly, Jughead answered. "Hey, Diana," he greeted, sounding a bit aggravated. "Where'd you go? Toni said you just took off, didn't say anything? What's going on?"

"Sweet Pea isn't sick—something else is going on with him. Cash called me from the trailer when the race started...said he wasn't breathing...we're at the hospital now."

His voice suddenly became more focused, more serious. "What? Is he okay?"

"I don't- I don't know, Jughead," I admitted, shaking my head as my eyes connected with my own gaze in the mirror. I was a pitiful sight when I cried. The water was filling up my eyes and the image the glass reflected was becoming less visible to me by the second. It was about to spill over. It was about to be too much.

"I'm going to get the other Serpents and we'll be there in a few minutes, okay? Just...hold on, Diana."

I nodded, knowing it didn't matter—he couldn't see it anyway. "Okay. Hurry, Jug."

"I will," he answered, surely, before the line went silent. He'd ended the call. I ended my side of the conversation and slid my cell phone in my jacket pocket, where I'd gotten it from. It was then my throat felt too constricted. It was hard to breathe without a sharp pain in my airway, but I forced myself to take deep breaths. There was no time to break down—not now. I needed to be out there when Dr. Masters came back.

When he came to tell us Sweet Pea would be just fine, and this was some dramatization of something simple and non-lethal. So I wiped my eyes dry with some of the pitiful paper from the dispenser, pushed through the bathroom door, and walked the hall to the waiting room. I dropped into the chair beside Fangs and he turned to me. "Did you get ahold of them?" he asked, eagerly.

Cash sat on his lap, her back reclined against his chest. She looked sleepy, tired—and I briefly wondered how she could fall asleep at a time like this, before I reminded myself that she was just a child. She'd believed Fangs when he said Sweet Pea would be okay, so she felt at ease enough to be tired from the event and fall asleep. "Yeah," I finally answered Fangs. "Jughead's going to bring some Serpents. They'll be here soon."

"That's good. How are you holding up?"

I exhaled, "As good as I can be."

"Diana," my body jolted at the familiar voice of Sheriff Keller, a second before I glanced up to see him standing beside my chair. He wore a semi-sympathetic expression, looking directly at me. "I wish I didn't have to say this, but I'm afraid there's no way around it. Dr. Masters and I have agreed...that it seems Sweet Pea is a victim of the next round of poisoning."

For a bone-chilled moment, I didn't respond. I couldn't. I could only stare at him, wide-eyed and paralyzed, frozen like a deer in headlights. "Wait, what are you talking about? Poisoning?" Fangs questioned, leaning toward me and Sheriff Keller.

I pushed up from my chair then, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling in my chest. "How do you know that? You said it yourself—the symptoms and circumstances are completely random. You can't possibly tie Sweet Pea to this."

Sheriff Keller sighed ruefully. "Actually, it's not as random as we thought. We've been able to identify each separate poison. They appear to be tailored to that specific individual, but they're all delivered the same way—through the lungs. There's significant burning to each victims lungs. Did your boyfriend smoke anything—cigarettes, marijuana?"

"He...he smokes but- no, he's been out."

"I bought him a pack a couple nights ago," Fangs spoke up then, shattering all hope I had for the situation.

I twisted to see him while staying in my stance. "When? What night?"

"Um...Friday," he said, causing me to rub my temples and exhale. Fangs continued in a slight ramble, "He didn't wanna smoke them inside—or around you at all, really. So he came to my trailer or hit me up at school. When he said he wasn't feeling well, I didn't think-"

"Nor could you have," Sheriff Keller interrupted, giving Fangs a singular nod of reassurance.

As I turned to Sheriff Keller again, I asked, "What's going to happen to Sweet Pea, then? You said all the other victims are dead."

"Well...it's a case by case basis as far as treatment goes. Dr. Masters will be able to explain more of that for you," Keller explained. "On my end, there isn't much I can do. I'll try to follow the cigarettes—make sure they didn't change hands before or after purchase. But...I'm afraid that's it for the time being."

Dr. Masters appeared then, walking to the waiting room from the hallway. Fangs stood as he approached, hefting up Cash's now sleeping form in his arms as not to wake her, and he came to stand beside me. "Are you his family?" Dr. Masters asked me.

"I'm his girlfriend. But- but- Sweet Pea doesn't have any other family—we're all he's got," I answered, quickly.

"His flu-like symptoms appear to be masking the poison's true effect on his body," he explained, glancing between Fangs and I. Sheriff Keller listened intently, but stayed aside, out of the way. "He's incredibly dehydrated, a bit anemic, but the most troubling is the condition of his lungs. They're struggling to function on their own. We have him on a ventilator and we're administering fluids. When the blood work gets back from the lab, we'll better know how to treat him."

I nodded slowly as I absorbed the information. "Can we see him?" Fangs asked, before I could.

Dr. Masters nodded. "Yes. He's unconscious, but you can sit with him. Come with me."