A/N: Hello! This chapter was going to be posted later today, but after some sudden news I found out about, I compelled myself to finish it. We now have to wait an extra week for the new episode, titled 'Wicked Little Town'. Needless to say, I will definitely be doing more writing than usual, considering. Anyway, please enjoy Chapter 4.
"Hey, you stopping by the site later? We got to get you set up in the office."
Fred walked into the living room, busting out with a question that Archie dreaded answering.
"Uh," Archie stuttered, trying to think of an acceptable excuse, despite it being on his mind the entire night.
"I have football tryouts. Can't ditch that," He settled on.
Archie had to admit, music was more exhilarating than any football game could ever be. That feeling when he finished composing a song, and he performed it with no flaws, was irreplaceable.
Though, it was true that he had football tryouts. That was something that was unquestionable, even if there was something that he was more interested in. A right of passage, per say.
Then there was the fact that Archie was itching to talk to Ms. Grundy about, well, everything.
Mainly what happened on July 4th, though.
He and Geraldine were enjoying an early-morning picnic, with a side of making out. It was amazing, really, exhilarating.
However, that perfect moment was shattered, when a gunshot rang out, along the shore of Sweetwater River. Neither of them got hurt, just a little jumpy for a few days, is all.
They fled, terrified that someone was there and trying to hurt them, or find them out.
After hastily packing up their picnic essentials, they went their separate ways, with Archie going back to his dad's construction company, acting as if all was normal.
The day went relatively normal after that, until Archie turned on the radio.
"This morning, at approximately 7:37am, Cheryl and Jason Blossom went on an early-morning boat ride. Somewhere along the way, their canoe capsized, leaving the twins fighting for their lives against the rocky current. Cheryl Blossom managed to get to shore, however Jason did not. The police are currently dragging Sweetwater River for his body, and there are several search parties in motion. We are urging anyone who knows any information about the incident to come forward."
The news reporter sounded dark and dreary, as this was an unusual crime for Riverdale.
Sweetwater River. Archie thought.
He and Ms. Grundy had been at the river around 7:30, and the gunshot was definitely around there.
Archie's first thought, of course, was to go straight to the police, with Ms. Grundy, telling them that they had heard a gunshot. It was odd, though. Jason capsized in a boat with his sister and then a gunshot sounded.
Maybe it was sabotaged, Archie thought, though it was highly unlikely. The Blossoms were one of the wealthiest families in Riverdale, not to mention the fact that they ran the maple syrup business. So then there was the question of why would someone try something like that, if they knew which family he belonged to?
He shook his head, dialing Ms. Grundy's number.
"Archie, why are you calling? I thought we agreed that we weren't doing this again," She answered, scornful.
"Geraldine, turn on the news."
It was a single command, but he used his firm voice, so it worked.
She flicked on the television, the news automatically coming on.
There was a moment of silence, then a gasp, then a clatter of a remote as she shut it off.
"Archie, I know what you're thinking and you need to stop. As far as anyone is concerned, we were never there."
"What? But we know something that no one else does, so why shouldn't we tell anyone?"
"Because, Archie. People will ask what you were doing there, with me, early in the morning. If- when they find out, I could get arrested and you, you would probably get expelled, Archie. This is a secret, a dirty one too, but it's a secret nonetheless, and it has to stay that way." Ms. Grundy yelled through the phone, making actions with her free hand to emphasize points.
Archie knew there was no point in trying to argue, so he just agreed, for now.
That was why he needed to see her so badly. Jason's body still hadn't been found, in almost two months. That gunshot, it could've been murder.
"Okay, I know that's important to you. Just, remember about the company. It runs in the family, making you the heir." Fred said, a disappointed look on his face as Archie nodded feebly, grabbed and apple and walked out the door.
It was only the first day of school and the pressure had already begun.
"Betty, this coming year is critical for colleges. Grades are important. Extracurriculars, athletics. Maintaining a decent character is hugely important. They do look at that." Alice said, almost as if she had been practicing this in the mirror.
She probably had.
Betty always put so much pressure on herself, about school, friends, and home life. From an outsider's perspective, it was easy to see where she got that from.
"Mom, I'm a sophomore." Betty said, pasting a fake smile on her face, one of which her mother believed every time.
"I know, and you've already accomplished so much. I just don't want anything jeopardizing that."
Betty sighed, remembering the dozens of times she'd heard this before. She moved around her room, gathering every notebook and textbook she could think of and shoving them into her backpack.
"I mean, just think of your poor sister. She was such a shining star before she let that Blossom boy ruin her."
At that, Betty curled her fists, breaking skin.
How dare her mother mention Polly, after everything she did to her. To Betty.
Polly was her rock, the only thing that kept her grounded. Betty had always seen her and Jason's relationship as something good, healthy.
Then her mom sent Polly away, cracking Betty's heart in two. The worst part was, her parents wouldn't even tell her where Polly was, or why they couldn't see each other.
Now, the only thing keeping her from completely unraveling was a blade of grass that she had caught herself on; Archie.
Pushing down her anger simultaneously with her fingernails, Betty spoke.
"Mom, I'm not Polly," She said, trying to sound as calm as possible.
She felt a warm, wet substance seep through her fingers, signaling that she was quite angry.
"You missed curfew last night." Alice said, trying to prove a point.
"By seven minutes. I was with Archie, who has red hair, yes, but is nothing like Jason Blossom." Betty retorted, digging her nails in deeper at the thought of Jason.
One of the only bits of information that she was able to gather, was that Polly was freaking out because of Jason. That right there gave Betty a reason to be mad at someone else other than her parents.
"Sweetie, all boys are like Jason Blossom."
What about girls? Betty secretly thought. Though, she quickly shot those feelings down, embedding her fingers further into her palms. She would have to wash the blood away soon.
"I love you so much, Elizabeth. I need you to be smart, okay?" Alice said, with a smile.
Betty couldn't tell if it was fake or not, because it reached her eyes. Maybe her mom had also mastered the art of fake smiles, or, maybe, it was genuine.
Betty just nodded, feeling even more anxious than before.
Smart.
What did that mean exactly?
To get good grades? To not fall in with the wrong crowd? To make rational decisions?
All of the above.
But, most of all, it meant to be perfect. She might as well have just said that.
Be perfect little Elizabeth.
"I know, mom. Like always." She said, a hint of regret in her voice. If Alice had heard it, she just ignored it.
"But, most importantly, stay focused."
Alice widened her smile, a little too much, as she dug through her purse and revealed a white bag.
It was from the pharmacy.
Oh, thank god. Her heart started racing, excited at the prospect of having her dear Adderall, again.
She almost made a grab for it, quickly unclenching her fists. Then the pain hit her like a tidal wave.
She visibly flinched, then started to tremble, tears threatening to escape.
She pushed them back, and, not wanting to sound desperate, settled for saying a thank you, and grabbing the tip of the bag, very lightly with two fingers.
Her mom nodded, not noticing that her daughter was clearly in pain.
"Well, hurry up, Elizabeth. We leave in ten minutes. Tardiness is a terrible habit." She said, casting another fake smile over at Betty, and swiftly exiting her room.
Betty let out a gasp as soon as she left, succumbing to the pain and breaking into tears.
She dropped the bag on her bed, discarding it for now. Besides, she wouldn't need them today; she still had some Racetams left.
She ran into her bathroom, turning on the cold water and running her palms under the faucet, the water tinging itself a dark pink as it soothed her wounds.
She sobbed, knowing that she'd have to go at least 7 hours without alone time. Seven hours in which any combination of things could happen.
Someone could make fun of Polly, ask about Betty and if she's okay, and, worst of all, Veronica.
That in itself was a whole other problem.
Her panic attack went on for eight minutes, being silenced by the warning yell of Alice Cooper, telling Betty to 'get herself downstairs within the next two minutes, or she wouldn't get dinner'.
Betty hadn't trained herself to always stop what she was doing when her mom talked to her, but it had always been programmed into her brain. Like it was natural.
She gasped, glancing in the mirror and seeing what a mess her makeup was, as she hastily turned off the faucet and dried her hands.
Disgusting, was Betty's only thought.
Grabbing a makeup wipe, Betty got all of the makeup off of her face, then re-did everything, a permanent scowl on her face.
Her palms were still leaking a bit of blood every now and then, but they weren't as bad as they had been.
They were tender; Betty winced when anything came into contact with them.
With thirty seconds to go, Betty rifled through her medicine cabinet, finding a white pill box at the very back of it. Downing two Xanax, she put it back, making sure to camouflage it in with a couple random bottles.
She felt an instant wave of relief wash over her, as she double-checked herself in the mirror, eyes flitting over her gaunt figure for abnormalities.
There was nothing that she could tell, other than her usual ugliness.
Sighing, Betty turned off the bathroom light and grabbed her backpack, making sure she had her phone in her pocket.
She ran down the stairs, getting a little dizzy doing so. Her mother greeted her with a plastic smile, gesturing to where her coat and shoes lay, neatly tucked into a corner.
Betty quickly put them on, her palms screaming at all of the contact she was giving them. Pushing down the pain, she followed her mom out the door, dressed in her favourite pair of blue converse, with a light pink jacket.
Betty had wanted to walk to school, to spend some more time with Archie. However, her mother insisted that she drive her, considering it was the first day of school. It didn't make any sense to her, but she knew better than to argue with her mothers' tactics.
The car ride was silent, other than the quiet classical music playing from the radio. Classical was the only type of music that Betty was allowed to listen to. Any other kind would, as her mother said,' corrupt her young and impressionable mind'.
Betty had wanted to retort something along the lines of,' you've already corrupted me enough for two lifetimes, music won't do anything!' But she would get yelled at, and probably smacked.
She had always had that itch to let loose, listen to the regular radio and sing along to the hits, even of she didn't know any of them. That was just something that would simply never happen.
When they got to the school, Betty was relieved to get out of the car. She had too many bad memories from that confined space.
Hitting, yelling, cursing. The whole nine yards.
Before she could get out, however, her mom spoke up.
"Elizabeth, remember what I said. We don't want you turning out like Polly."
She then smiled and waved, as Betty promptly got away from that conversation.
So much for no blood, today, Betty thought, the mere name of her beloved sister enough to set her off the edge.
It was going to be a long day.