Chapter 2: The Pink Hair

What a bizarre way to start my first day of school. What was I going to tell my mother when I got home?

'Oh! How was your day, honey?'

'Oh, you know Mom. Ran into a half naked hot guy tied to a flagpole. Nothing unusual there.'

I could see it now. She would have me committed for even suggesting a boy was hot.

But I couldn't deny it. He was. And his face had haunted me all morning. For starters, I thought about the way his hair was disarrayed, practically standing in all kinds of directions. It was a complete mess but somehow it looked stylish that way. Like that was the whole purpose of the cut in general. And his eyes. Were they green? Blue? Grey?

I was really starting to question my sanity. I mean, who thinks about a boy's hair like this after a five minute interaction? And who cares what color his eyes were? They were just eyes. Everyone had them. Yet somehow, here I was, walking down the hallway and unable to stop myself from looking for the boy with the messy black hair and indescribable eyes.

I had already been to a couple of classes. I got notes from first period, which I missed. Luckily the teacher didn't seem too upset about it.

Now I was waiting on a girl who was supposed to show me around. I couldn't remember what they'd said her name was, though.

I didn't have any luck in spotting the boy I was hoping to see. Instead, I saw a crowd of people I didn't know, and with them was a jock with…pink hair?

Yep. This school just kept getting weirder and weirder.

He was definitely an athlete. Tall, lean yet muscular, and wearing a football jersey with a pair of jeans. His face was pale and angular with high cheekbones. And his eyes were a warm chocolate brown. No questioning that shade whatsoever. However, I did wonder if he had meant to make his hair pink. He seemed popular despite this oddity, though. As he grabbed his books from his locker he was constantly giving high fives and waving at girls who giggled as they passed him and his friends. Clearly he was something big around here.

"Are you Elizabeth?"

I turned my head to find a raven haired girl standing in front of me, books tucked in the crook of her arm.

"What?"

"Elizabeth Cooper?" She repeated, arching a dark, bold brow. "The new girl from Miami?"

I blinked and looked at the boy with pink hair again. His eyes met mine for a second and looked at the girl with me. His eyes darkened slightly as he gazed at her. And quickly he turned around and headed towards what I assumed was the cafetera. Kids were coming and going out of the place and with each pass of the door swinging open, it grew louder and louder.

"Hello?" The girl asked again, looking at me like I was dumb. I shook my head and turned to look at her.

Right. She wanted to know my name. What was wrong with me today?

"Yeah. I'm Elizabeth-well, I go by Betty, actually."

"Why is that?"

"'Cause..I do?"

"Weird."

This was going well. Had she never heard of a nickname? Did she not grasp the basic concept of them? I bit my lip to keep from snapping at her. No way did I want to make an enemy on my first day.

The girl stuck out her hand and gave me a fake, shiny smile to go along with her perfectly arched eyebrows. In fact, just about every single one of her features was perfect. Her eyeshadows were flawlessly blended, just the perfect amount of highlighter applied to her cheekbones and the bridge of her pert nose...She looked like she had a professional makeup artist who did her makeup every morning. Maybe she did.

She had on a crimson sweater to match her dark red lipstick and pearls that looked like they cost more than my new house and my car put together. The sweater was short sleeve and went well with her short black skirt and knee high boots.

My mom would approve of this ensemble. Hell, with one glance my mom would want us to be friends.

I didn't see it happening though.

"Veronica Lodge," she said, shaking my hand. "I'm supposed to show you around school."

I nodded, forcing a fake smile of my own.

"Great," I answered, gesturing for her to lead the way.

Veronica walked me through the halls, showing me where the classes on my schedule were located, introducing me to a student or two. I could tell she hated this; she didn't do much to hide it. I half listened to what she said. My mind kept going back to this morning, to the boy tied to the flagpole. I kept looking for him, looking for the mess of black waves. But he was nowhere to be seen.

Get a grip, Betty.

"And this is the music room," droned Veronica, pointing to a door on the left. "I don't suppose you play anything?"

"Not unless you count softball," I answered.

She shook her head slightly, and sighed, continuing on until we were back where we'd started, right by the lunch room.

"And here, obviously, is where we eat."
Veronica ushered me inside the lunch room. It was packed with students. It smelled like I arrived on spaghetti day.

My eyes immediately found the jock with the pink hair. He sat at a table with other jocks and cheerleaders, but really it looked like he was a king, holding court.

Veronica followed my line of sight. "That's Archie Andrews," she told me. "He's quarterback for the Bulldogs."

Of course he was.

"Is...is his hair...supposed to be pink?" I dared ask.

At that exact moment, almost as if he'd somehow heard me, Archie Andrews looked up and once again met my gaze. He inclined his head, a small smirk forming at his mouth.

I didn't look away.

Veronica scoffed. "Of course not," she snapped. "That would be the work of Jughead."

I blinked, breaking eye contact with Archie to turn on Veronica. "Jughead?" I asked, puzzled. "What's a jughead?"

Veronica rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "That's a jughead."

She pointed, and when I saw who she was pointing to, I gasped.

It was him.

He was fully clothed, wearing jeans, a dark tee shirt with an unbuttoned flannel shirt over the top, and a gray beanie atop his messy hair. He was sitting alone at a table at the very back of the lunchroom. It looked like he'd already eaten all of his lunch and he was absorbed in a book he was reading, completely tuning out everything and everyone around him. His long legs were reclined, his feet crossed at the ankles on another chair, an arm propped over the back of yet another empty chair and the book in his other hand. He looked as if he were lounging at home instead of a crowded, noisy school lunchroom.

"Jughead?" I repeated, my eyes never leaving him.

"Forsythe Jones III, but he's always gone by Jughead." Veronica explained in a tone that sounded exasperated. "He put hair dye in Archie's shampoo during football practice yesterday. So immature."

I glanced between Jughead and Archie, and suddenly it became obvious.

Jughead had told me I'd know his attacker when I saw him. Pink hair. It was a dead giveaway. I was annoyed at myself for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Thanks for all of your help," I said, "I think I can take it from here."

I began to walk to the table Jughead was seated at. Behind me, Veronica said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I stopped, turning around to peer at her. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her face a mask of stone.

"Why not?" I challenged.

Veronica held my gaze for a moment or two, her dark eyes glittering intensely. I didn't break her stare, not giving her the satisfaction of it.. Finally she said, "Never mind. You'll see for yourself soon enough."

With that, she turned on her heels and walked away.

I shook my head. This school was insane.

I continued to weave through the tables and students towards Jughead. The closer I got to his table, the more I began to realize students were openly gawking at me. And when I finally did reach Jughead, they were all outright staring at me. I swore that it got quieter as well. I heard whispers.

Jughead Jones seemed to detect the drop in pitch and looked up from his book.

His eyes, now more blue than green, widened ever so slightly as he noticed me standing there. His mouth, no longer blue but a soft pink, parted a little. God, he was gorgeous. It was much easier to see now that he wasn't white and blue all over, shivering furiously.

"Betty." His voice was low, low enough that I barely heard him.

I smiled. "Jughead, is it?"

He nodded warily "Can….can I help you with something?"

My smile faltered. It was even quieter in the cafeteria now. I had the horrible feeling that we were being listened to.

"I wondered if I could sit with you," I practically whispered, gesturing to the empty seats beside him. "I have a lot of questions…"

Jughead moved his feet but didn't invite me to join him. If anything, his body language spoke volumes that I was not wanted around. My heart sank in my chest and I felt my cheeks begin to burn.

"Look," he started, "you seem like a really nice person, especially after what you did for me this morning. And I really do appreciate it, believe me. But don't…" He sighed. " Just don't talk to me, okay?"

I gaped open mouthed at him. Was he serious?

"I'm sorry, what?" I blinked, baffled.

Jughead simply went back to his book, completely avoiding eye contact. People were still watching, not being subtle at all.

I looked over at Archie, who had a wicked smirk plastered on his face, elbowing one of his friends in the side. I narrowed my eyes and turned back to Jughead, whose head was still stuck in the book. The only indication that he knew I was still standing there was the rigid set of his shoulders.

"Betty," he said finally after a minute, "walk away, okay? Please."

I don't understand how someone whom I don't even know could hurt me so much. But he did. It was like a flashback of my old school. Only he had no reason to be mean to me. He didn't know me.

"I don't understand-"

Jughead sighed. His eyes met mine as he closed the book he was reading. His voice sounded tired as he said, "Helping me is one trying to be my friend? It's not safe for you."

"It's not safe...because of Archie?" I motioned towards the pink haired boy who was laughing at something one of his friend's said in his ear.

Jughead shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not safe because of everyone. Believe me. You don't want to be my friend."

Jughead then got up from the table, picked up his messenger bag, and threw it over his shoulder. I followed him as he walked towards the exit of the lunch room. I tried not to pay attention to the dozens of eyes that watched us like hawks.

"I know I'm new and all," I told him, "but I think I should be able to choose who I want to be friends with."

"It's because you're new that you don't realize what you're asking."

"I know that out of everyone here that I've met so far, you're the only person who doesn't seem fake. I like that. And by the looks of it, you could use a friend."

Jughead stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face me. His eyes narrowed, and his arms crossed.

"So, you want to be my friend because of pity?"

"No, not at all." I insisted.

"Because I have friends, you know. I just don't need more."

"Of course, it's just...you were eating alone-"

"By choice."

"Right," I nodded slowly. "So, you have tons of friends..."

Jughead's mouth curved into a beautiful grin. My heart leaped inside my check. A light sparked his eyes as he spoke. "Tons and tons of friends," he said, humor lacing his tone. "So many people want to eat lunch with me that I have to beat them off with a stick."

"Right." I pursed my lips..

"Right."

We both stayed silent for a quick moment. I rolled my eyes.

"So, where were these tons of friends while you were tied up to a flagpole?"

Jughead didn't miss a beat. "Vacation."

I couldn't help but laugh. This guy was crazy. And clearly trying to brush me off by hiding behind humor. I'd hate to tell him this, but making me laugh would only make me want to be his friend more.

"In January?" I quirked an eyebrow.

"Extended Christmas vacation."

I barked out another laugh. "Really?"

"Really," he insisted. "They're all buying me presents, you know, for Christmas."

"Christmas is over because it's January."

"You're missing the point here, Betty."

"And the point is?"

We were walking down the hallway, stopping by a locker that I assumed was his. Jughead began to fiddle with his lock.

"The point is you don't want to be around me. I mean, I'm unhinged, I could snap at any given moment," he said, opening his locker. "Look at what I did to Archiekins."

I snorted at the nickname. "What was his hair color before?" I asked, curious.

"Red," he shook his head. "But you're not listening!"

"I prefer pink."

"Oh, my god." He slammed his forehead against his locker door.

He was incredibly adorable without even trying, and I think I was smiling more than I had in months. My cheeks actually hurt.

"Betty," he whined. "There are better people to be friends with here. I mean," he looked around us, and pointed, "Look at that girl. Hey! Betty, here, needs a pal. What do you say?"

The girl was short with a pixie cut and lots of piercings. She took one look at me, then Jughead, and snapped, "Fuck off, Foreskin Jones."

"Well, fuck you very much, bitch." Jughead called back as the girl walked off, Jughead looked back to me with a sheepish expression on his face. "Okay, maybe not her."

I burst out laughing again, leaning up against the row of lockers, doubling over. Jughead's lips turned down at the corners like he was trying not to smile.

"What about him?" Jughead pointed to another random student.

I shook my head, "I want you."

Jughead covered my mouth with his hand and my eyes went wide, my heart skipping a beat at the contact.

"Don't say shit like that, Betts," he half whispered. "People can hear you."

When he lowered his hand I smiled again, taking a step back.

I considered this all a challenge, a challenge I was more than willing to accept. I'd decided here and now that I liked Jughead Jones. He made me laugh, something I could easily get used to. Something I hadn't realized I'd been craving until now.

The bell suddenly rang out, indicating the end of lunch. I was a little sad that it meant I had to leave him now. It was the last thing I wanted to do.

"I'm going to be the best friend you've ever had, Jughead Jones." I walked backwards away from him. "Just you wait and see."

Jughead crossed his arms over his chest and his expression was a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "This is a very bad idea and I will not be held responsible for the ramifications! I'm warning you!"

"Consider me warned!" I called back, laughing as I rounded a corner, not looking where I was going as I ran right smack into Archie Andrews.

Mr. Pink Hair himself.

Up close his face was even more charming. He grinned, showing off a row of perfect white teeth. His brown eyes were inviting, perhaps deceptively inviting. He didn't look like a jerk who tied people up to flagpoles in the snow.

"Elizabeth, right?" He asked, raising his eyebrows, which were indeed red. "I'm Archie. I couldn't help but notice you looking at me a few times today, and I know what you're thinking."

He smirked and leaned against the wall, all lazy and confident.

I was immediately on guard "Oh? What was I thinking?"

His eyes sparkled. "You're jealous because you wished your hair was as pink and fabulous as mine."

Damn me to hell.

I laughed.

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Cee and Tiff