Stubbornness was not a quality Betty had ever used before to describe herself. But in the weeks that followed their encounter at Pop's, she hardened herself against Jughead, refusing to give in an inch and try to reach him. Her heartache over losing him had shifted colors once again from a sad cerulean to an enraged red. Despite on some level still blaming herself and nurturing her own guilty feelings over her treatment of him throughout their relationship, she was now fired up over his refusal to give them another chance, of feeling as if he'd lied when he'd said that all he wanted was her. Her anger started to bubble over whenever she saw or thought of him. It seemed Jughead was just as stubborn and equally as vexed with her, as he also made no move toward relenting or putting his guard down. It started to feel like a minefield when they encountered each other at school. They weren't overtly nasty or cruel—she knew inside herself they cared for each other too much to actually cut one another deeper than they'd already done—but the tension between them was palpable. Aside from childish glowering in the hallway and cafeteria, they were constantly needling each other in Blue & Gold meetings. Betty went overboard on her edits, returning his drafts dripping with red ink like bloody corpses and nit-picking his overuse of semicolons. In turn, Jughead would push back on her story ideas and suggestions, contradicting her at every opportunity. She knew other people on staff noticed, but both were too absorbed in their own emotional grappling to back down.
Although stemming from a serious wound of broken trust, their tussles were still thrilling to Betty on some level. Obviously, the chemistry and sexual undercurrent between them had never subsided, and she knew they were both sublimating their desire for each other into verbal sparring. She could tell by the ways his eyes darkened into coals and raked over her body each time they bickered, and of course by her own breathiness and lip biting when he challenged her decisions. Their ongoing feud, if you could call it that, energized her, making her feel alive, as she continued to internally battle the demons left over from her relationship with Jason and her constant regret over the situation with Jughead. She still had nightmares some nights about Jason hurting her again, still felt on edge passing him in the halls, so it was strangely gratifying in a way to have an outlet at school to let herself feel and express some sort of hurt and agitation. Especially with all the unresolved feelings she still had for Jughead.
One Friday afternoon, their tension extended beyond their usual battlefield in the Blue & Gold office to AP English class. Their teacher, Ms. Grundy, was leading a discussion on Chapter IX of Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights and Betty, as was typical, was taking a very participatory role. Ms. Grundy began to ask for the students' analysis of the conversation between Catherine and Nelly on the former's adoration for Heathcliff, but how, despite her love, she could never marry him.
"I think the text treats their spiritual connection as one that can't be severed," Betty said after being called on to give her interpretation. "So even if Catherine is unable to marry him because of their differing social statuses, she believes their passion for each other will never falter, nor will their loyalty, so she can help him better…"
Before Betty could finish her thought, she heard a very unsubtle snort coming from the back of the room. She trailed off, annoyed at the interruption. She turned around to see Jughead, who, despite his love for literature and sharp intellect, almost never participated in class discussions unless forced to, now looking straight ahead to the front of the room, his eyes boring into her. She felt a chill go through her.
"Mr. Jones, do you have something to contribute?" Ms. Grundy asked, a mixture of good-natured snark and surprise in her tone.
"Yeah, actually I do," he answered, momentarily looking away from her to face their teacher. "Catherine isn't just 'unable' to marry him like Cooper here seems to think. She's willfully choosing not to, saying it would 'degrade' her to do so. She's only thinking about herself and how others see her. She doesn't want to be a 'beggar' so she lies to herself and says she's marrying Linton so she can help lift Heathcliff up, but we all know that's bullshit."
Not bothering to lift her hand back up or give Ms. Grundy a second to chide Jughead for his crass language, Betty started talking again, her whole face red in irritation at Jughead's critique and patronizing referral to her as Cooper. "Why is it false to think the best way you can love someone is by helping them rise in station and make something of themself, especially in a time when such a love is untenable?" she charged, her voice rising. "If Heathcliff had bothered to stay in the room he'd understand how much she loved him. And then he could have tried to fight for her or change her mind. But he chooses to leave, too. He lets his own emotional turmoil and insecurities get in the way."
"Maybe he did understand how much she supposedly loved him," Jughead immediately responded, his own voice turning more impassioned, and Betty could see from the corner of her eye Veronica and Kevin exchanging looks. She also saw Toni peering at Jughead with a perplexed but amused look on her face. "But he didn't need to stick around to hear her excuses for why she wouldn't pick him. Maybe he didn't want to settle for her half-assed love when he knew how powerful the real thing could be. And maybe he realized his lower class status was all Catherine would ever see him as."
"And maybe Catherine understood their romance was entirely unattainable because of his refusal to lift himself up alone," Betty shot back.
Before Jughead could reply, which he looked more than ready to do, Ms. Grundy stepped in to settle them down. "All right, all right. It's getting a little testy in here," she said with a laugh. "Would anyone else like to share their thoughts?"
As the discussion continued, Betty tried to regain her composure, which was hard to do when she felt his piercing blue eyes on her. She turned around to shoot him a look to quit staring at her, but was immediately arrested by his eyes, shining like dark saucers full of anger and want, a heated smirk on his lips. She knew that look too intimately, as if he were undressing her in his head and alternately wanted to shake her or kiss her. Annoyed at her own arousal, which she felt very uncomfortably under her skirt, she decided to mess with him in return. Carefully pulling her blonde hair from its ponytail, she shook out the tousled locks to form a golden waterfall around her face. She knew how much he had always liked seeing her loosened up like that. She looked back at him with her own smirk, watching him swallow in mouthwatering agony, before turning back to the front of the room and ignoring his continued gaze on her. She tried to re-focus, but it was difficult, especially since she was already imagining sweet relief to the ache between her legs later when she got home. She was abashed to admit it, but lately after particularly passionate miffs at Blue & Gold meetings, she'd go home and touch herself to thoughts of him while wearing his burgundy t-shirt (although it by now had long since lost his scent). She knew she was only prolonging her heartache by continuing to engage in petty fights with him, and then fantasize about them leading to more, but she couldn't help it. As angry as she was at his rejection, as gutted as she felt that he was basically preventing himself from being with her, the feelings toward him weren't going away and these fights were her only way of still having a piece of him.
When Betty got home from school that afternoon at 4:30, after staying behind in the Blue & Gold office for an hour or so to finish her homework for the following Monday, all she wanted was a bath and a few hours to relax her brain. She had vague plans to meet up with her friends later in the evening, but nothing set in stone. So it seemed like the perfect opportunity to spend the late hours of the afternoon catching up on true-crime documentaries on Netflix and attempting to forget her myriad problems. (Not that she could keep Jughead off her mind for very long, but it was worth a try.) The house was quiet when she entered, which was expected. Her parents didn't usually return from the Riverdale Register offices before six. However, as she ascended the stairs to go to her room, she heard what sounded like muffled sobs coming from the direction of her room. She peeked her head in, but saw nothing. The only other room on her side of the hallway was Polly's abandoned one. She hadn't gone inside or seen either of her parents there in two years, but now, as she pushed open the slightly ajar door, she saw her mother sitting on the bed, her face streaked in tears.
"Mom?" Betty asked with uncertainty.
Alice looked up and started to wipe her tears at seeing her youngest daughter. "Oh, Betty, hello," she said, her tone scarily similar to the one Betty always used when something was grievously wrong but she was pretending otherwise.
"What's going on?" she asked quietly, racking her brain for why her mother would be in here, crying of all things, until it hit her all at once that today was February 20. She had been so preoccupied with everything with Jughead over the last few weeks that she completely forgot. A feeling akin to shame flashed through her. "It's Polly's 19th birthday," she slipped out, not even realizing she'd said it aloud until her mother looked at her, with a weird sad little smile.
"Yes," she said, absentmindedly, before smoothing her skirt down. "I was just a little overwhelmed, but I'll be fine, no need to worry."
"You don't need to pretend with me," Betty sighed. Her voice came out with more anger and indignation than she had intended and Alice looked at her in surprise, but Betty immediately didn't regret it. She'd been holding inside this painful secret for two years. She'd let her parents belittle her, becoming nearly robotic. She'd turned to Jason and an abusive relationship as a result of it. She'd hid the truth from her friends. She'd pushed Jughead away, the one person who'd tried to be there for her. Everything she'd been through since Polly disappeared rushed to the surface and she couldn't hold it in any longer. She wanted just a moment of the truth. She deserved that.
"Everything is fine, Elizabeth," Alice said, a cold edge to her voice, as she stood up and prepared to exit the room. It was the tone she used when she wanted to end discussions, but this time Betty wasn't having it.
"Jeez, Mom," Betty said, her voice rising. She moved to block the entranceway. "It's not fine. I'm not fine. For two years, I haven't been fine. None of us have been. And I'm so sick of pretending. The least you could do is admit that you're sad and that you miss her!"
Alice's steely demeanor cracked slightly and Betty could see fresh tears forming in her eyes, which she quickly moved to wipe away. "Betty, honey, it's complicated…I…"
"Where is she?" Betty asked, interrupting her, surprising even herself at the demandingness of her tone. But she was tired of being in the dark. She wanted answers, finally.
Alice sighed and slowly sat back on the bed before looking up at Betty and admitting, "I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?" Betty asked, as she started pacing the room. "You're the ones who sent her away. How do you not know where she is?"
"We brought her to a home for pregnant girls to give their children up for adoption," Alice explained, her voice sounding far away. "But she escaped after a couple of months. We don't know where she went after that."
"Are you kidding me?" Betty exclaimed. "All this time, the only thing that made missing her and lying to people about her easier was thinking at least you knew where she was and she was safe. And not even that is true!"
"Betty…"
"How could you even send her to a place like that?!" she interrupted again, her voice and face twisted in fury. It was as if all the anger she felt toward her parents over what had happened with Polly and their behavior afterwards, and which she had kept locked inside herself for two years, was now gushing forth all at once and she had no way to stop the stream. It mixed with the leftover humiliation and shame she still felt from the trauma with Jason and her disappointment and guilt over Jughead, demanding urgent release. Her mother hung her head watching her, seeming to also understand there was no way to rebottle what was now exploding in her face.
"Betty, please sit down," Alice requested, and there was something conciliatory enough in her tone that Betty felt herself unclench momentarily. She nodded and perched on the other end of the bed, staring at her mother expectantly. "I wanted to give her a choice. Not like I had."
"What do you mean?" Betty asked, feeling her stomach crunch, trying to control the anger still raging on a low burn inside her.
Alice took a long breath before starting to speak. "When I was about your age, I started dating your father. But I'd had another boyfriend just before. I got pregnant. I didn't know if it was Hal's or this other boy's. Needless to say your father was furious. He insisted I get an abortion. He said we were too young and he didn't want to raise a child that might not be his. I wasn't sure if that was what I wanted, but I loved him and I was scared, so I went through with it."
"Oh my God, Mom," Betty muttered, trying to process the absolute shock of what she was hearing. She'd known her parents had been high-school sweethearts, but definitely not this darker side to the story.
"When Polly told us she was pregnant, your father went ballistic." Alice closed her eyes, remembering. "You can imagine. It was a horrible deja vu. He wanted to take her to the clinic immediately and then send her away from that boyfriend. But I didn't want him to make the choice for her. I found the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. I thought she could decide on her own while she was there. And if she really wanted to have the child, she would give it up for adoption, but at least she'd be able to maybe be part of its life later. It was supposed to be a compromise."
Betty ran her hands through her hair trying to wrap her mind around everything she was hearing. She felt so much pity for her mother for the difficult choice she'd had to make at 17, but she was also still so overcome with outrage that her parents had cared more about respectability before the town than respecting their child's wishes or even trying to help her. Not to mention how they'd then smothered Betty in coldness and criticism, instead of being honest, as if that were supposed to prevent her from making the same mistakes as Polly.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Mom, but how could you do that to her?" She looked at her mother dead on, tears forming in her eyes. "How could you do that to me?" she asked, her voice breaking. "How could you take my sister away and force me to lie and pretend to everyone in my life? Disparage me and make me blame myself? The two of you just disappeared when I needed you, when I needed my family." She was fully sobbing now, the tears falling on her tongue as she let the torrent of words out.
Betty could feel her mother's hand finding hers and she looked up to see her mother's face also tear-stained. Alice embraced her, and Betty let herself be held by her mother for a few moments before pulling back. "I know I've been hard on you, Betty. Worse than that. It's because I love you so much and was afraid of losing you too," Alice disclosed, clutching her daughter's hand again and interlacing their fingers. "I know maybe you'll find it hard to believe, but sending Polly away was devastating for me, for your father too. I know we took it out on you. I thought it was the only way I could keep you close. It wasn't right, but I didn't know what else to do."
"I believe you," Betty whispered, using her free hand to wipe away her stray tears. She had never really considered it before this moment, too blinded by her own feelings in the aftermath, but all her parents' behavior since sending Polly away made sense in its own weird twisted way. And she knew it was possible for two things to be right at once. Her parents could be in a horrible amount of pain and still have wronged her and been the original cause of her wreckage. As much sympathy as she felt for what her mom had been through, that didn't mean her anger wasn't still present. She knew the rift between them wasn't so easily resolved, even with her mother here now, trying, saying the right things. But maybe that was the most she could ask for at this moment. She didn't want to continue fighting or nourish that anger. It would only drag her back down to the cataclysmic place she'd only just started to escape from. She wanted to heal. She had to. Speaking slowly, but assuredly, she continued, looking to face her mother. "I know you're sorry. I hear you. It doesn't magically make things better. But I hear your apology."
"I know we have a long road back as a family, but I hope you can forgive me. Forgive us," Alice said, squeezing her hand once more.
"I hope so too," Betty murmured. It was a lot to absorb in one afternoon, and she knew she needed time and space to unpack her feelings and to work toward forgiving them. No matter how much she longed for a return to a sense of normalcy, she had suffered too much and sacrificed too many parts of herself for too long to just pretend everything was fine now. It would take work to be able to trust them again, to move forward. Still, if they could start changing too, she was prepared to at least try.
Alice nodded, blinking away her leftover tears. "I love you, Betty. We both do."
She hadn't heard those words from either of her parents in a long time, and it felt good, even if she couldn't say them back just yet. "I know," Betty said. She offered her mother a small smile and extracted her hand, before standing up. "I'm going to go to my room for a while. I'll see you later."
Betty hurried next door to her bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her. She laid her back against it, breathing heavily. Her mind was racing and she desperately needed to calm down. She began undressing, folding her clothes in a pile in her bed, before pulling her hair up in a messy bun. She turned on the shower in her bathroom, waiting until the water was steaming. She entered, letting the nearly scalding water wash over her skin. It was so much to take in. Grief at knowing her sister was probably gone for good, sadness for what her mother had been through, anger at her parents for sending Polly away and trying to control her choices too. All the feelings swirled together. She thought of her sister, of all the moments of love and fun they'd had as children. Playing together on the monkey bars and swings in Pickens Park, feeding stray cats in the hopes their parents would finally let them adopt one, dressing up in their mother's costume jewelry and scarves and putting on plays for an audience of dolls. She started to cry again, the tears falling fast, in tune with her memories. She cried, too, for the memories they should have had during two years of high school together, for the memories in the future they'd never make, until one day, she hoped, Betty might be able to find her again.
She gave in to the sadness, the heartbreak, feeling the loss of Polly soon mingle with the loss of Jughead. Her mind drifted to thoughts of how caring he'd been throughout their friendship and then romance. How he'd listened and supported her without judgment. How he'd been patient for months over her fears of breaking up with Jason and tried to make her feel like she could overcome them and deserved better. How he'd always been honest with her, even when it hurt. Realizing Polly wasn't coming back, realizing she had no way of reaching her, somehow brought her clarity. She knew it was a cliche, but it suddenly clicked in her mind that you can never know how much time you have left with someone. Was she really willing to let her unyieldingness and hurt at Jughead's confused rejection (which she knew deep in her heart was just his own stubborn way of protecting himself) stand in the way of fighting for what she wanted? To continue to give in to fears of what the future might bring instead of actually trying? After all, wasn't pushing someone away the same as pulling them in too close, like her mother had tried to do to her? Weren't they both just ways to avoid being hurt? Maybe it protected you from feeling pain, but it just ended up hurting the person you loved in the process. Archie was right. If she wanted Jughead, it was her turn to show him her hand and go after him. He'd always been there for her, even in the moments when she'd kept him at bay. She had to be there for him now.
Shutting off the water, Betty stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a warm fluffy towel. She knew what she needed to do, and it started with her calling Veronica. Although from the look the brunette had exchanged with Kevin during her and Jughead's showdown in class today, not to mention the fact that Archie had never been very good at keeping a secret, she figured Veronica probably already had an inkling about their relationship. Still, it was important for Betty to take the step of actually telling one of her friends about her feelings and what had transpired between her and Jughead.
Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she dialed the familiar number.
"Hey B, what's up," the brunette chirped.
"V," Betty said, closing her eyes momentarily, willing herself forward. "I want to tell you something."
"Of course, what's up?"
"Do you remember when I told you guys about Jason at Pop's and I mentioned that I'd had feelings for someone else?" Betty asked, her voice slightly breathless.
"Yes," the brunette responded, keeping her tone neutral.
"I was talking about Jughead Jones. And they weren't just unrequited feelings. We were together. For a few months."
"Ah," Veronica said, the understanding and lack of judgment in her voice immediately calming Betty and spurring her to continue.
"I pushed him away because I was scared of Jason but also because I was ashamed of what people would say and that I wouldn't be strong enough to withstand it. He's in a gang and he lives in a trailer on the Southside. Not exactly the cookie-cutter picture of a cheerleader's boyfriend," Betty said with a bitter laugh, talking more to herself than to her friend. Veronica seemed to understand and let her go on without cutting in. "But I'm not a perfect popular girl either. I know I still have a lot of issues and insecurities to work on, but he made me understand it's okay not to be perfect, to be damaged even. It's okay to be me. So I don't care anymore what anyone else thinks. I don't want to feel ashamed about the kind of boy I like. I just want to be worthy of a good guy who was so much better to me than the shitty ex who supposedly checked every box but treated me like dirt." Betty let out a huge breath and even though she didn't know how she swore she could hear Veronica smiling across the line. "I want to go tell him that," she continued, "But because you're my best friend, and I've been keeping this from you, I thought I ought to tell you first."
"Betty, whoever you're with, I'll support you," Veronica declared. "I don't care if he's homeless or a millionaire. As long as he treats you the way you deserve. Always."
Betty smiled. "Thank you, V. I love you."
"I love you too, B."
"Now, you can put your boyfriend on the phone so I can ask him where to find Jughead," Betty said with a smile. She was sure Archie was already listening in on the conversation.
Veronica chuckled and passed over the phone.
"Hey Betty," Archie said happily. "I think he mentioned going to hang out at the Whyte Wyrm tonight."
"Thank you, Arch. I appreciate it. Everything."
"Of course." He paused for a beat before adding, "I'm proud of you, Betty."
Betty disconnected the call and hurriedly redressed. She contemplated picking a new outfit over the clean lavender bra and underwear set she put on, but the ribbed coral sweater and plaid pink skirt she'd worn to school just felt the most natural. She didn't care that she would be going to a Serpent bar where everyone would probably be dressed in black leather. She didn't need to impress anyone or fit in with how they looked. She just needed to be her.
In any case, she didn't have time to think too hard. She headed down to the kitchen, tying her hair up in a tight ponytail as she descended the stairs. She had an apology treat to bake.
