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Jughead had thrown himself into life at South Side even more energetically than Betty had feared he would—including reestablishing the South Side paper, The Red and Black, which was already keeping him at school until late every night. Well, Betty Cooper wasn't letting her boyfriend slip through her fingers that easily.
She put together a box of essential supplies and took it over to him after school one evening. Opening the door to the newspaper office, she slipped inside, grinning at Jughead when he turned to look at her. "So this is The Red and Black."
He looked dismayed to see her there. "You cannot be here at night unless you are armed."
"Well … I am," she told him, lifting the heavy silver coffeepot she'd brought. She could totally take someone down with that thing.
Jughead got to his feet, his face lit up with excitement for the story he was working on. "Honestly? I hit paydirt. Do you remember how no one could explain the local component of Clifford Blossom's drug pipeline? The Jingle-Jangle, the stuff that Moose and Midge were on?"
"Mm-hm?" Betty took off her jacket, laying it down on a reasonably clean surface.
"It's coming from here. I know that my dad said that Serpents never deal in hard drugs … but the Ghoulies do."
Betty appreciated his nose for news, and the enthusiasm with which he was chasing the story, but he was in an awfully vulnerable position. "Is it wise to be writing about gangs and drugs while you're going to school here?"
"Are you worried about me?" He was smiling now as he moved closer to her, the faintly predatory smile that said his thoughts were shifting away from news.
"Well, yeah, Jug."
His hand slid up her arm to rub the side of her neck. "I thought you liked me reckless."
This kind of reckless she was more than okay with, Betty thought breathlessly as he leaned in to kiss her. They were alone, here at South Side, far from the watchful eyes of Alice Cooper, and Betty kissed him again and again as he leaned back against a table and brought her with him. With the heat rising in her, there was no telling how far they would have gone—if the door hadn't opened abruptly.
Betty turned in surprise to see a pretty girl with pink hair who looked equally startled to see Betty there. "Oh! Sorry. Guess I didn't see the sock on the door."
"It's okay," Betty said, although she wasn't sure that it was. Still … this wasn't her turf, so it was hard to know the rules, or the players, it seemed.
"Betty, this is Toni. She is the photographer for the newspaper," Jughead explained. He put a possessive hand on the back of Betty's neck, turning to Toni. "This is Betty; this is my girlfriend."
"Hi." Toni seemed the least uncomfortable of the three of them, coming toward Betty to shake hands. "You are not at all what I pictured."
"Really? What did you picture?"
"Uh, Emily Strange … Winona Ryder from Beetlejuice."
Betty could see that, actually. She still found it a little amazing that Jughead could see the darkness in her, and like her the more for it, rather than being repelled by it.
"Hey, look what Betty got us." Jughead picked up the coffeepot and showed it to Toni.
She dug a green plastic version out of the box she was carrying. "Great minds."
"Great minds," Betty agreed, but what she was thinking was that she would have to be on her toes with this one, until she knew what kind of a foe she would turn out to be. Because there was no doubt in Betty's mind that this Toni was an obstacle of some kind, and she resolved to keep her wits about her.
Jughead stayed considerably later at the high school than he had meant to, having gotten into a good groove with the article he was working on. It had taken him a while after Betty and Toni had left to be able to focus again—seeing Betty here had been jarring, and there had been a strange undertone between the two girls that made him uneasy.
But eventually the words had started flowing, and Jughead lost himself in them.
He came to a decent stopping point fairly late, shutting off the lights and the laptop and closing the door behind him. It was nice to be here when it was all quiet, to get a real feel for the place. It reminded him a bit of having slept at Riverdale Central those nights before Archie caught him. Something about a silent building at night really let you feel the pulse of it.
Except that the pulse of South Side High was … disturbing. Jughead was already beginning to get the sense that he wasn't truly alone when a door slammed somewhere in the building.
Surely that was normal. Janitor. Teacher. Principal. Any number of people could be here late.
Still, he walked a little faster.
The lights went out, then, leaving him with only the floodlights streaming in from outside to guide him. Now he hurried, wanting to get to the nearest door and get out quickly. But the door was locked … and they were waiting for him by the next one.
Ghoulies, he could see by the brief look he got at them before he was on the ground, curling up into a ball, protecting his head and hands as best he could.
What they gave him was a warning. He understood that clearly. And they left him little choice of what to do next.
Betty called the next morning before school and he made the mistake of groaning audibly into the phone as he got out of bed, his muscles stiff and sore from last night.
At her expression of concern he found the lie rising automatically to his lips, telling her he had fallen on the bike. Anything to avoid telling her he had been beaten up by the Ghoulies; anything to avoid telling her that he had no choice but to openly join the Serpents.
Naturally, Betty came over, bearing first aid supplies. He was grateful—his dad's trailer wasn't exactly fully stocked with these things.
Toni arrived at the same time as Betty did, ready to head to school. At least Betty seemed to accept Toni's presence there, distracted by her concern for Jughead.
"Can you just … take a day off?" Betty asked him, efficiently dabbing alcohol on the cuts on his face.
"It's not that bad," he told her. "Just some cuts and bruises." He couldn't help smiling at her. She might be going a bit over the top, but it had been so long since anyone had fussed over him, or was concerned about his well-being, that her presence and her caring were the best medicine Jughead could have asked for.
"I told you that motorcycle was risky, Jug. You promised me you were always going to wear a helmet."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Toni shift, crossing her arms over her chest, as the import of Betty's words hit her, but she didn't say anything, which Jughead appreciated.
"It was just around the block. Don't blame me; blame the pothole."
"I thought you were going to say that you got jumped by those … Creepies, or whatever."
"Ghoulies," Toni corrected, and Jughead held his breath, waiting for her to confirm Betty's suspicions. Instead, she came toward them, assuring Betty, "No, the Serpents won't allow that. They've got Jughead's back."
For the first time, it occurred to Jughead that the Serpents had more to gain from this incident than the Ghoulies—he now no longer had any leverage against the pressure to join openly.
Toni added, "Even though he's not a member. It's just family loyalty."
Betty, fortunately, took her at face value … but Jughead could hear the subtext loud and clear. Something in him had always known this was inevitable—and some deep secret part of him was excited for it.