It was just after ten when Jade's mother came to the waiting room and filled us in. I didn't expect her to, but she knew Jade and I were close. I supposed that was enough for the information we got. She said I could see her in the morning because Jade needed to rest. It was understandable, considering the circumstances. Ben drove us all home. Jughead opted to crash on the love seat in my room. Cash was already zonked out since before she entered the hospital.

I carried her small frame up the stair case—against the wishes of my aching arms—and into her bedroom, gently laying her down on top of her bed. I wriggled off her shoes and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. She snuggled in a bit but was so out of it she barely moved. It was hard sometimes—knowing Cash was the only real family I had left. Feeling the weight of it was probably what made me so bitter. And a good liar.

But if you lie for the sake of someone you love, someone young and innocent that can't truly defend themselves, are you really that bad? I gave up trying to discern it months ago. Doing what you have to do for family was what mattered most, not the opinions of those who have no say in your life. That's what I told myself. It was only affirmed every time I looked at Cash. My fingertips brushed her bangs aside as I bent down, placing a kiss to her small forehead.

Then I tip toed out of the room, closing the door behind me. I could breathe once she was in there. I didn't have to worry about waking her up now. So I moved onto the next order of business—getting a blanket from the hall closet downstairs for Jug. He stood at the base of the stairs, glancing up as soon as my feet hit the steps. I gave a small smile. "She's asleep. I'll grab a blanket and then you can camp out," I said, just before passing him.

The hall closet was situated between the kitchen and the laundry room around the corner of the stairs. It looked like quite a large house from the outside, but the layout made it incredibly small on the inside. Ben wasn't too keen on anyone staying over that wasn't female—and even that was stretching it. He made sure to comment on his disapproval of a Jughead sleepover as I lead the way up the stairs, Jughead trailing just behind.

"We have rules, remember? No boys in the house past curfew," Ben tried, exasperated.

I rolled my eyes, turning to see him at the top of the stairs as Jughead passed me, slipping into my bedroom to avoid the argument sure to ensue. "He's not a 'boy'. He's Jughead," I pointed out, neutrally as possible. "We've been having sleepovers since we were seven. Trust me, we passed the curiosity stage years ago."

Ben didn't waver. "You know that doesn't help your case, right?"

"What do you want me to do, Ben? Have him sleep on the front porch?"

His shoulders dropped as he gave me a look. I knew in that moment i'd won. So I turned and headed into the bedroom, closing the door and locking it behind me. Jughead was stretched out across the width of my bed on his back, his arms folded beneath his head. "Love what you've done with the place," he commented, sarcastically.

I huffed a humorless chuckle and chucked the blanket at him, walking over to the love seat below the window. "It was a last minute decision."

"Clearly," he sat up, glancing around. "It's very...grunge aesthetic."

I rounded up the pillows on the love seat and took them to the closet. After chucking them in, I went to my bed. There was one pillow I always let Jughead use when he stayed over. That one pillow was forever known as my Jughead pillow as of four years ago. Even though I never told Jughead that's what it was called. He just knew it was the lifeless sack of feathers he got stuck with every night he stayed over. I grabbed it out from under another pillow and shoved it into his lap.

But he wasn't paying attention. His eyes were straight ahead, aimed across the room. He jutted his chin, gesturing that way. "That his? Your Serpent boyfriend?"

My eyes narrowed a fraction, then followed his line of sight. They landed on my Serpent jacket. It was still hanging on the back of my office chair. I could feel Jughead's eyes on me, watching for a reaction. Waiting for me to say yes. But I only sighed heavily and marched over to the chair. My fingers gripped the leather, yanked it up, and tossed it into the closet with the couch pillows.

When I turned to face the bed, Jughead looked like he'd seen a ghost. He began to shake his head slowly. "No…Diana, no," he sounded scared but, more prominently, he sounded concerned. "That isn't his is it? It's yours?!"

"Jughead-" I exhaled.

"What else have you lied to me about?" he questioned, jetting up from the bed.

I folded my arms over my middle. "Jug! I'm trying to protect you. You, and Cash."

"Just tell me. Right now- tell me everything," Jughead practically demanded, now edging on the side of angry. "Don't you dare leave a single thing out, Diana, or I swear-"

He stopped himself short of whatever he was about to say. Probably thinking better of it. But, at the time, I didn't see it that way. His words only made me angry. Both of us were fuming—each for good reason. I tried to keep my voice down as I began speaking. "My father was a South Side Serpent. And, you know me—world's biggest Daddy's Girl. I was into whatever he was into. He was the second in command until he died. He was like Serpent royalty. There was a lot of pressure to follow in his footsteps."

"So you became a Serpent because people pressured you into it?" Jughead looked at me skeptically.

I shook my head. "No. I did it because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be like my dad. He was my hero, Jug. I only joined a year before he died. But I passed initiation with flying colors, got my Serpent tattoo, and wore my jacket every day."

Jughead was sitting on the tall chest at the end of my bed. His eyebrows shot up. "You have a tattoo?" he asked, in disbelief. Then, ruefully, he added, "Tell me you're joking." All I could do was shake my head, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth with my teeth. This was the most adrenaline inducing conversation I'd had in a long time. My hands were shaking with anxiety of his every reaction. I tugged up my Polo shirt from the waist of my breeches, pushing down my belt an inch.

As the tattoo became visible, his eyes drifted down my side, stopping on it. And in that moment—for the first time in my entire life—I couldn't tell what Jughead Jones was thinking. My mind was spiraling, trying to rush an explanation, trying to come up with something to say that would change all of this. "Jughead, I promise I kept this from you for good reason," I said, as if that would somehow make it better. "I didn't want to get you involved. You're my best friend."

"Is everything else about you a lie, too?" he asked, his voice quiet but still angered.

"No. I'm still me," I exhaled and took the steps needed to cross the room, sitting on the open space atop the chest next to him. "I had to lie to you—to keep up this good girl act. If Ben had decided I wasn't worth adopting because of my Serpent activities, I would never have seen my sister again. If you had the chance, wouldn't you have chosen to go with Jellybean?"

Jughead turned his head, giving me a look. But he seemed much calmer now. Now that I've pointed out we were exactly the same. "That's completely different."

"Yeah, because you didn't have a choice. I did. I chose my sister...but that meant lying to you—and I'm really sorry, Jug. For lying, for hurting you. All of it. Please forgive me."

He sighed, turning his head to face forward for a quiet moment. In all my worries about Jughead's safety, the possibility of losing him—I never once thought that I could be the reason I lose him. But now that it was almost real, I felt sick to my stomach. I held my breath as his lips parted, waiting for him speak. "I forgive you," he nodded once, turning to see me again. "Doesn't mean I like what you're doing, though. You're in a biker gang and you don't even own a motorcycle. How does that work?"

I laughed a little at his attempt at sarcasm, and he laughed a little, too. But I felt like crying. I'd thrown my arms around his neck before I could. "I love you, Juggie."

"I love you, too, Diana. But I'm afraid I have a secret to share, too. And you're not gonna like it."

As I pulled away, my eyebrows furrowed. "What is it, Jughead?"

"It's about Archie. Since we're in the sharing mood, I think this is as good a time as any," he sighed heavily, obviously reluctant to start whatever conversation was about to ensue. "Diana, Archie's been...cheating on you. While you guys were dating, I mean."

My head snapped back in a recoil as my features displayed confusion. "Um...excuse me? With who?"

"Ms. Grundy."

"The music teacher?!"

He sighed, "I know I should've told you-"

"How long?" pure anger was the strongest emotion in my veins, clouded any and all sad thoughts I had moments ago. When Jughead didn't respond immediately, I spoke more forcefully. "How long, Juggie?!"

"Since summer," he admitted.

As if my night could not have gotten worse. Now I knew just what caused Archie to stray—and it wasn't Veronica. It was our own music teacher. She was most likely twice his age, but I guessed there was something alluring about sagging breasts and gray hairs. Archie Andrews made it back on my list. And his morning was going to be a lot worse than my night.

I'd set my alarm for an hour earlier than usual for the soul purpose of getting to the shower first. It worked. I threw off the covers, breaking out my skin in goosebumps from the cool air of the room. Braving the cold was worth it, though. At least, that's what I told myself, forcing myself further out of bed. My feet drug themselves across the carpet toward the bathroom. It was hard not to laugh on the way there. Jughead was nearly completely beneath his blanket.

His face pressed into the pillow, hair strewn upward like a fountain of black, and his mismatching-sock-covered feet stuck out the end by several inches. I just shook my head and kept walking. I went into the bathroom and flipped on the light. My appearance almost looked as laughable as Jughead's. I nabbed my cell phone from off the charger to the left of the sink. It lit up with various social media notifications. But no messages.

Taking yet another stab in the dark, I sent Sweet Pea another text. Then I set my phone down and started stripping. I didn't have much time to shower before Jughead woke up. It's not that Jughead hadn't seen me naked, it just made it easier if he wanted to shower after me. That way neither of us were late. And I didn't have to share my sink and mirror. My body was covered in a thin layer of dried sweat and dirt, thanks to not showering last night.

But I scrubbed it off under the hottest water I could stand. Then I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out. Securing the towel tightly, I pattered into the bedroom to my closet. A groan sounded behind me, followed by the groggy voice of Jughead. "What time is it?" he asked. "Why do I feel like I slept in?"

I chuckled, "You didn't sleep in, I got up early. Shower's yours."

My hands skimmed through the clothes hanging up, but nothing was striking me. Nothing felt like the right thing to wear. That's because it all belonged to North side Diana. When it hit me is the moment I turned around to face my tall standing dresser. The dresser is where I stored everything South side when I moved in. "Hey, can you help me put up fliers for the Drive-In at school?" Jughead asked, from the bedroom.

"Sure," I agreed, bobbing my head.

He made an odd groaning sound, and I glanced over just as he finished stretching, finally standing up. "Thanks. I'm gonna get my DNA all over your shower."

"Go for it, buddy."

I smiled at him as he disappeared into the bathroom, then I looked back down at my open dresser drawer. My hands dug through and examined bits of all four drawers. I'd set out a few options. But only a couple items really stuck out to me. After a while, I finally decided on an outfit. Black denim shorts, dark purple tights, a gray t-shirt, and my dark red Doc Martens. It wasn't as outrageous as the outfit i'd worn to the Wyrm nights ago.

But it was a step in that direction. Once I was dressed, I checked my cell phone as I brushed my teeth. No new messages. I'm sure my face showed through some kind of indicator of my thoughts in that moment. The confusion, the anger, the worry. Just then, the water in the shower turned off, and I quickly put my phone on the counter. Returning to brushing and spitting like I hadn't just felt a chill in my spine. Maybe, just maybe, it was over?

Was this Sweet Pea's way of breaking up with me? What kind of loser doesn't even say anything? Over text? Bad. Over silence? The lowest of the lowest. Just ignoring a girl until she gets the point? What kind of strategy was that? I was washing out my mouth when Jughead climbed out of the shower. "You okay…?" he asked, pausing after pulling on a towel.

"Fine. Just guy trouble. What else is going on in my life lately?"

I'd laughed, made it sound like a joke. And he bought it. But I was hurting. I didn't know just how much yet. Or how much it was about to get worse. Not until I walked into school with a handful of Drive-In fliers and the first person I saw was Archie Andrews. Avoiding him, I split from Jughead and headed toward the back half of the school. "Divide and conquer," I'd said, before ditching my best friend to avoid my ex.

Surprisingly enough, the only thing catching eyes was my camouflage backpack. One girl asked where I got it and I had to tell her it was from a shop on the South side. I'd said that it was cheaper to shop down there and I had been pressed for cash. She said something about needing to check out the shop before leaving me to continuing taping up fliers for Jughead. It was a pointless endeavor, trying to save the Drive-In.

But it was a special place to Jughead. I felt a small thing for it, but nothing big enough to do all this. After I'd covered half of the back interior of Riverdale High, I made it to the lounge, where I heard two distinct voices. One feminine, one male. When I walked in I knew I would regret it. But I kept moving. Sure enough, it was Kevin and Veronica. They both looked up at me. Kevin with a bit of disapproval, Veronica with regret.

"Veronica. Do you have a second?" I asked, neutrally.

She looked surprised, but nodded once. "Yeah…?"

I stepped over to the first available seat—on top of the small coffee table in front of the chair she sat on and the whole couch Kevin occupied. With a deep inhalation of breath, I started talking. "Look...Archie treated me terribly because he had feelings for someone else. Turns out, that someone wasn't you. My aggression toward you was drastically misplaced. I'm sorry, Veronica."

Veronica sat in stunned silence. Kevin looked just as much in shock, but his shifty eyes darted back and forth between us as to not miss any action. Typical Kevin. Veronica slowly started to nod her head, sitting up a bit in her seat. "All is forgiven," she decided. Pausing, she added, "As long as all is forgiven on your end?"

I nodded, "All is...forgiven."

"Great. We were just talking about going to the Drive-In on closing night. Want to tag along?" she offered, hiking up a shoulder and giving me a mischievous expression.

"Um..." I thought for a second, adding times up in my head. But I knew—what with Sweet Pea not answering my texts—I had nothing better to do. "Sure. That sounds fun."

"Another day, another hag," Kevin sighed.

"Speaking of hags," Cheryl stepped up beside the three us suddenly, appearing out of thin air. "Veronica. It's so devastating to me that your mother has to sink to such unspeakable lows just to keep those knock-off Hermes bags on your arm. What's next? Selling her hair extensions?"

I gave Cheryl a 'what for?' look, but Veronica replied before I could. "My mom's a waitress, Cheryl, not Fantine. And your faux concern reeks of ulterior motive. What is it?" she demanded.

"Only to remind you of your place in this school, nay, the town's social hierarchy."

"Threatened much? Don't worry, you may be a stock character from a nineties teen movie, but i'm not," Veronica replied, standing up from her chair. She took a step toward Cheryl. "And what does any of this have to do with my mom being a waitress?"

Cheryl looked triumphant as I stood as well, her eyes dead set on Veronica. "Just that I saw her talking to a South Side Serpent last night, in the alley behind Pop's. They were having an extremely heated, intimate discussion. See for yourself."

She pulled out her cell phone as Kevin came up behind me and Veronica. On the phone screen as Cheryl turned it our way was a close up photo of Hermione Lodge talking to an older man in leather. But as Veronica zoomed out, staring in disbelief, I recognized that Serpent. It was FP. Cheryl smiled and whisked herself away, along with the photo. I was too stunned to move, too confused to speak.

"Who or what is a South Side Serpent?" Veronica asked, turning to face me and Kevin.

"It's a biker gang on the South Side," I said, with a rueful sigh.

"Thankfully they stay there," Kevin added. "Because they're sorta dangerous. Drug dealers and petty thieves."

I fought to keep from rolling my eyes. Serpents don't deal drugs. FP makes sure of that. But Veronica's next question was exactly what I was wondering myself. "So what was my mother doing with one of them?" she questioned, to no one in particular.

"I lived on the South Side for a while, I have a few contacts..." I started, before I knew what I was saying. "What me to bust some heads? Knock loose some answers?"

Both of them look surprised. But Veronica seemed incredibly thankful. "Yes, thank you. That would be great," she said. It was a bad idea, but it was the best way of excusing myself from the conversation without looking suspicious. I was dialing FP's trailer before I'd left the lounge completely. I listened to it ring as I walked the hall. And then he answered.