In the 21 years that Betty Cooper had been alive, she had spent a great deal of that watching House Hunters and combing through Zillow listings. So, she was well aware of what some of the words truly meant in the advert for the apartment she was walking through now.

For example, when the listing said it was 'cozy', it meant cramped, as in New York City style of cramped. Or, when it described the kitchen as 'rustic', it meant outdated and possibly not up-to-code. And, when it finished with a warm 'any tenant that wants to put in some elbow grease will find a diamond in the rough', it meant the landlord wasn't going to lift a finger but hoped any reasonable person would paint the walls or put down some tile in the cracked bathroom.

Yes, Betty was not surprised at all to see this apartment match up with her expectations. It was tiny for being a two-bedroom, and likely should have just been a one-bedroom The kitchen didn't even look dated, it looked like an antiquity that belonged in a museum. And the general apartment didn't feel complete, it felt like someone had stopped construction halfway through for a lunch break and never returned.

But that none of that mattered. Or, at least, it mattered less than all the great things about this apartment.

First; the monthly rental was $400, including utilities.

Second; it was half-way furnished. The furniture was just as 'rustic' as the kitchen, but doable.

Third; it had gorgeous wood floors and a big window that spilled such stunning golden light onto the floor, so pure that Betty thought she could scoop it with her fingers like honey.

Fourth; It was right in the middle of the tiny town, above a used book store.

And, most importantly, fifth; It was nowhere anyone could find her.

Betty turned towards the landlord, a sweet old lady who looked closer to 100 than any reasonable age. She was quiet; Betty hadn't gleaned if she didn't speak much English or was just the silent type.

Betty dropped her single bag that carried all her belongings in this world and grinned with a sense of blessed, exalted freedom.

"Where can I sign the lease?" Betty asked, clearly taking the old lady by surprise. Most would have turned their nose up at this apartment. There were plenty of more ritzy ones. She'd passed one named 'The Pembrooke' walking from the bus stop, but that seemed too easy. She needed a place far cheaper and off the beaten path. While others likely would have found his apartment not worth the price for the condition, Betty Cooper was not afraid of hard work, "And…can I pay in cash every month?"

She'd cut her credit cards up on a stop out of D.C. It had been three stops after she'd smashed her phone and thrown it in a trash can, in case her parents had pinged her phone. She'd cleared her bank account out yesterday, left her dorm at Georgetown, boarded a bus, and disappeared.

"With me," The lady said, waving a frail hand, an accent on the end of her voice that Betty couldn't quite place. Betty was surprised there wasn't more of an argument. Perhaps her other tenants were equally as shady. Maybe she was too old to care or wonder why this young thing was asking such suspicious questions. Whatever the reason, and Betty did not prod her for illumination, a weight was lifted off her shoulders.

This half-baked plan was becoming a reality.

For the first time since Betty had seen the plus sign on the pregnancy test, she was starting to feel like things might just turn out okay.

XXX

The nearest Target is 30 minutes away.

Even more bizarre; the nearest Walmart is 45 minutes away.

This means that Betty has to shop at the Mom and Pop stores to start to make this apartment feel like a home. She doesn't even have her laptop to order from Amazon, not that she's certain Amazon can deliver out here anyway. It was an unfortunate forgotten tragedy that she realized too late, already on the bus and had to let go, telling herself surely she could find another laptop somewhere.

Now, she's not too positive about that.

She has always been good with money, so Betty knows very specifically how much money she has. She knows how far it can get her. She wouldn't say this plan was carefully plotted for months, but it was hatched with enough time to save a little more carefully than she did before; give apologetic excuses for not going out to the bars with her classmates, choosing to eat her meals at the mess-hall instead of clicking through to Post-Mates, and selling off some things she knew she for sure wouldn't need where she was going. Plus, she took all the money she could take out without ringing any alarms to let her parents know what was going on.

She would have been set for years if she could have accessed her tuition money, but alas, she considered that would be going too far. Her parents, specifically her mother, would have been banging on her dorm room door three hours after poking into getting that, Betty knows this.

So she has to make do with what she has. It's somewhere between 'hopeless, near homeless bum' and 'Oh, you can relax a bit.' If she is careful, she won't be out on the streets for a few months, but she still has to be thoughtful with her spending.

She digs out some envelopes from her oversized duffle. First, she sections off six months' worth of rent, because she can live on an air mattress and a footstool, but she needs somewhere to be. The next envelope is for food. The third is for necessities; toilet plungers, kleenex, trash bags…all the sort of things to fill an apartment that are hard to do without. The next is medical costs. The last is everything left over, or the little money she has remaining for a laptop, a phone, or a pair of shoes that she thinks is cute. No, laptop and phone first. Clothes and non-necessary apartment items later.

Betty felt how thin the envelope was and gave a groan; much later.

Coming across this listing had felt like a fluke, or maybe a stroke of fate sent in her direction. Divine intervention. She'd entertained the idea of hiding in plain sight, somewhere in DC, but the apartment prices were akin to highway robbery. This Craigslist listing had popped up in the wrong zip code; the wrong state to be frank.

But the price had intrigued Betty. $400 for a 2-bad, 1-bath apartment above an old Main Street store? It was in a town Betty had never even heard of…Riverdale. Immediately, she had researched and found that it was a sleepy town in upper New York, nestled between a babbling river, high ponderosa pines, and a welcoming fogginess that seemed to say that life just moved a little slower here.

Within 48 hours of finding that listing, Betty had contacted the landlord and was on a bus to start this new life.

Since this is where Betty would be for the foreseeable future, she spent the first day exploring.

It was just like the pictures online told her and the town seemed like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. Everyone seemed generally pleasant and happy. They waved to her on the streets or offered a cheery 'good morning!' as they went about their day. They seemed steeped in structure and repetition; she got the sense that the person who opened up the pharmacy stopped by the same coffee stop to chat with the same regulars and put on the same radio station every single day. This seemed like the sort of place Betty needed to be. She needed some stability in her life.

She has many things she needs to get at the Pharmacy. Advil, bandaids, neosporin…neo-natal vitamins. She knows that she looks a bit older than her age, but not that old. Her one fear of moving to such a small town was that it would be filled with old conservative gossip that would paint her a whore or judge her for getting pregnant 'out of wedlock', as they'd say. But then she reminded herself her mother would say the exact same thing, so it didn't really matter where she was.

Still, when she sets the assortment of pills on the table, hiding the neo-natal pills near the back, she is just praying this goes without judgment.

"Stopping through?" The pharmacist asks. Logically, everyone in town probably knew everyone. She thinks about lying, but then again, soon enough it would be clear she's here to stick around a bit. So, she forces a friendly smile, the one that made her mildly popular in high school, and shrugs.

"I'm a newcomer, actually," She says, "Just arrived last night."

"Welcome to Riverdale!" He seems genuine in his welcome, "Most people move out, not in." He adds with a quiet laugh. He scans all the items and when he gets to that last pill bottle, he pauses.

If she's going to be honest, because eventually, people will also figure out it's not some cousin or sister that's pregnant, but her, Betty steels herself from nasty comments as she says, "For me."

The man, who looks old enough to be a father himself, and likely is, softens when Betty says that. All her worries are washing away as he gives her a look so protective, so unlike her own father's expression- or how she imagined Hal Cooper would look if he ever were to find out.

"You'll need a few others, too," He mumbled, "Assuming you don't have any others?"

Betty gives a shake of her head, watching as he moves in front of his register to go back to the 'family planning' aisle and picks up three more pill bottles. His eyes never once flicker or fade in their helpfulness.

"Not very far along, then?" He guesses.

"Just about a month and a half," Betty instinctively places her hand over her stomach, "I know, most don't even know this early, but I just…knew."

"Very common in many mothers," The pharmacist nods, starting to bag her things, "Do you have an OBGYN here yet?"

"Err, are there many choices?" Betty is shocked to hear there's even one here. She fully assumed she'd have to travel for to the next biggest town for her doctor's visits. She thought the best this town would have was maybe a nurse or midwife.

"No, there's only one," He says, eyes twinkling with mirth, "But Dr. Lopez is fantastic. You wouldn't want to go to anyone else. She takes good care of all the babies born here." He assures Betty, "The hospital's not far from here…walkable." He adds after a second, as though he can tell she is car-poor.

"Thank you. Really," Betty whispers, taking her cash out, thinking that the amount is less than she'd thought it would be but totally reasonable to be paying regardless of the price, "Dr…" She pauses, searching for a name tag. He's not even wearing a lab coat.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I should have introduced myself. I'm not even the pharmacist here. Fred Andrews. My friend is the pharmacist and he's grabbing lunch. I'm just keeping shop."

She should have known. He didn't look like a pharmacist when she arrived, wearing a flannel button-up and pair of jeans, but hey, she figured that's just how this town was.

"Will you get in trouble? For…" She wasn't sure of the legality of this. Mr. Andrews shrugged.

"Didn't prescribe you anything. I think we're okay," He said with a wink. Even so, it seemed like the sort of casual place where maybe it would have been a-okay if he did, and maybe Betty wouldn't have worried, "You don't have to tell me your name."

It didn't feel like a guilt trip. It didn't feel like he was manipulating her. He felt like a kind parent; the sort of parent of friends you always liked growing up. There was something warm, safe, and trusting about Mr. Andrews.

"Betty." She decided not to go with her last name, not yet.

"Betty. What a beautiful name." He wiggled a finger, "I have a son your age. You seem like maybe you could use a friend." He said thoughtfully. It didn't seem like some weird match-making trial, just someone recognizing she was all alone. And, if his son was half as kind as his father was, Betty had a feeling she might need that sort of support, "What are you doing for dinner tomorrow?"

Betty gave a nervous laugh, "I'm all free, Mr. Andrews."

He waved a hand, "None of that. Fred," he insisted, "Why don't we serve you a home-cooked meal to welcome you here? Here's my address."

Betty watched as he scribbled his address on a prescription pad. She held it in her hands, wondering if this was an elaborate way for a serial killer to get to her. Still, Betty believed in gut feelings almost above all else. And her gut was telling her this was the real deal; the sort of dad that everyone wanted, that actually would invite a perfect stranger to dinner, just because they recognized they might be feeling out of place.

"Thank you," Betty said, waving the paper, and pushing the door open to the streets again. Fred waved her off, telling her he'd be expecting her around 7 pm tomorrow. It wasn't until she went to the grocery store and a small home goods store, and began to unpack everything, she realized that Fred had not charged her for the three extra bottles of neo-natal vitamins he'd grabbed. And, she knew that this hadn't been a mistake on his part at all.

XXX

Fred was Good People.

If there was any doubt of it, it was washed away the moment she walked through the door, being welcomed in with the tantalizing smell of burgers cooking and a bright smile poking around the kitchen.

"Betty, ah! So glad you decided to come. Take your shoes off, get comfortable."

Betty giggled to herself as she kicked her tennis shoes off.

The house felt lived in. She recalled her childhood home and it was such a stark contrast; everything was warm and a little faded but well-used. There was a general clutter her mother would have hated, but it felt full of family memories. Her fingers trailed along a shoe cabinet near the door that held a pile of umbrellas, windbreakers, junk mail, and gloves stacked upon it with delicate chaos that she immediately adored.

She was admiring the house, and her eyes had just gotten to a few photos on the wall of a younger Fred and a red-headed boy who looked like a joyful menace when Fred came and leaned against the banister.

"Archie! C'mon down, our guest is here!"

Betty smiled politely at Fred, still a little unsure.

"My son, as I said," Fred jerked a finger upward, "He lives here to save on rent. I'm teaching him the family business in the meantime."

"Oh, what's that?" Betty hadn't even asked what his job was, other than keeping watch of pharmacies at lunchtime.

"Construction," A new voice said and a stocky boy with shocking red hair appeared, "Been in the Andrews family for generations."

He was All-American. That was the best way Betty could describe him. He looked like he stepped right out of a summer cologne ad; wrinkled white tee shirt, a sturdy pair of jeans, and sun-tanned skin.

He noticed her looking at him.

"What?" He asked, turning to a mirror on the stairwell, "Do I have something in my teeth?"

"You didn't happen to play football at all in high school, did you?" Betty asked dryly, snickering to herself.

Archie frowned, surprised, "How'd you know?"

She pressed her lips together, holding back a smile, "Lucky guess."

This town seemed…unreal. She didn't think there were places that existed in America anymore that could feel so…simple. Simple in a good way. Her whole life had been 'go, go, go', her mother pushing her to reach deeper, do better, and go faster. She was mature enough to know that sleeping with a guy she hated from her classes was rebelling against her mother, but dumb enough not to use a condom.

The idea that this little slice of heaven was here, where kids like Archie could be football stars and then retire out in their dad's family-grown company on the oak-lined trees where he grew up seemed…almost fake.

"I'm Betty," She extended a hand, "Your dad was kind enough to take pity on a newcomer."

"Yeah, that's good old Dad," Archie said, and though his voice was teasing, his smile was genuine. There was no malice in his tone, not the undercut of a joke that Betty or Polly would make about their parents, "Taking in strays, always."

"Be nice!" Fred clapped his shoulder.

"No, I'm not offended. I certainly am one." Betty said. She wasn't sure what to say next. Did she announce it outright, her pregnancy, or let Archie guess it? Or had Fred already told him? Did he judge her; knocked up and alone here?

Fred seemed to pick up on the mild uncomfortableness that clung to the hallway.

"Grill is just about done; who's hungry?"

They ate in the backyard. They all had a lemonade, so there wasn't any awkward 'oh, no, sorry, no beer for me' that Betty had to side-swipe. She was sure Fred had done it on purpose, or maybe not since Archie didn't seem bothered by the lack of beer or a seltzer.

"Dad said you're about my age?" Archie asked.

"Yep, twenty-one. Newly minted with a true 'adult' license- you know, the one without the 'Under 21'," She added as an inside joke with herself, since in some ways being pregnant made her feel very 'adult' but childlike for falling into this, to begin with.

Archie beamed, "No way, me too! I mean, from Riverdale High, obviously. Where are you from?"

"Boston," Betty scrunched up her nose, "I'd, uhm…" She swallowed, "Rather not talk about it."

Archie leaned back, "No biggie, no biggie. And if you don't want to talk about why you're here too, that's alright. I won't pry." He said.

"I mean," Betty felt like she should offer some explanation, "I just needed a break from it all. I needed to figure myself out. Go to a place where I could hear my own thoughts."

Fred laughed, "Well, you've come to the right place! The loudest Riverdale gets is on Wednesday when all the restaurants are half-off for seniors in the morning. That's also when there's the singular traffic jam on Main Street," He said with a wink.

"Yeah, I'm gathering," Betty said.

"Why Riverdale, though? We're not even marked on any maps." Archie asked, frowning, "Do you know anyone here?"

Betty shrugged, "Naw. I mean, no. It was a fluke, or divine intervention, whatever you want to call it. Found a listing for an apartment mislabeled and here I am, a weekend later." She winced, "It wasn't spur of the moment. Not really. Not that much. Sorry; that came out wrong." She didn't want the Andrews to think she was some sort of irresponsible former gifted kid who consistently made bad decisions.

"Betty, you don't need to apologize. Whatever you're here for, it's a safe space. We aren't going to judge." Fred said kindly.

"Yeah," Archie nodded hard, "I'm just glad there's someone else my age in town! Pretty much most of my class moved out for college and I doubt they'll be back. We're going to be best friends," He announced, much like a six-year-old would on the playground. There was a sureness to his tone, one that was so matter-of-fact that it made Betty wonder if he knew something she didn't.

"Uhm, sure," She said, laughing a bit nervously. But Archie didn't frown at her hesitation. Instead, he just smiled even brighter.

"Great! What are you doing tomorrow? I'll take you to Pop's. It's the best burger joint in town. Nay, in all of New York! You'll love it-," Archie didn't even give Betty a chance to respond, just started rapid-firing a mile a minute. Betty caught Fred smiling into his burger, a relief that settled over his shoulders.

Betty let Archie take the conversation, giving her everything there was to know about Riverdale, as well as plan out their next week or so of this budding friendship. Betty, who had nothing else to do, was grateful for a distraction.

When Fred got up to start dishes, Betty tried to hop up to join. Archie had started making a fire in the raised pit.

"No, go, sit," Fred insisted, "I got this." He assured. Betty knew he wouldn't let her help and uneasily sat back down in her chair. After a few moments, she scooted it over near the now-raring fire, Archie sitting back in triumph.

They sat in silence for a bit, watching the flickering flame. Finally, Betty's curiosity won out.

"You seem like you'd have plenty of friends, Archie," She said quietly. So why care about little old me?

Archie smiled, but his expression didn't quite meet his eyes, and Betty instantly felt bad for asking. He shrugged, trying to play it casually.

"Yeah, guess I did in high school. You could call me popular…but…" His forehead crinkled, "They all moved away and I stayed here." He glanced back at his dad starting the dishes in the kitchen, "I stayed for him. He'll never admit it, but he's getting on in his years. Mom left long ago…he had a bad fall, won't ever tell you about it, but I realized that I can't go. He's my dad."

"That's really sweet, Archie," Betty said, genuinely surprised. She loved her parents…somewhere…but the idea of throwing away her future for them? Well, perhaps if they'd done more for her, it wouldn't be such a strange idea.

"Anyway," Archie threw a twig in the fire, "As I said, everyone else moved on. As they should. I thought my other best friend would stick around, but he got a fancy scholarship to Columbia for writing. Good for him; I'm so proud of him. But it still hurts. It's just not the same when he's so far away. He's also not a great texter." He looked at Betty, chuckling, "You remind me a lot of him."

"Oh?" Betty raised an eyebrow.

"Both have a look about you. Determination. Whatever you want to do, you'll do it. I just never had that. And I have a girlfriend, but we're long-distance, so…" Archie gave an embarrassed shrug, his cheeks as red as his hair, "If I came on too strong, I'm sorry…it's just…" He laughed, "There's really not many people my age around and I think it would be soul-sucking to make friends with current seniors, right? The weird kid who never even went to college hanging around high schoolers? I'd get the cops called on me."

Betty internally winced at the idea.

He was so earnest. It was a startling honesty. She was so used to everyone using everyone else for their own gain that this truthfulness, the innocence of it, threw her off. But it was refreshing. And Archie seemed just as kind as his father.

"I won't be offended…I dunno. But you just seemed lonely too. I don't want or need to know anything. A new day starts today, right?" He continued, finishing with a nervous laugh, biting his lip.

She understood his meaning; as of today, she was no longer Betty Cooper. She was just Betty, a newcomer, trying to make her way into the town. Just a blank page for her to fill in from here on out.

"I would really love a friend here, Archie," Betty leaned across their chairs, grasping his hand, "You're right, I was lonely. But not anymore."

Archie let out a long breath, "You seem chill, Betty," He said decisively, which was about as far from the truth as he could get. Betty was what some would call, at best, 'Type-A' and at worst 'someone who needed to unclench their ass'. However, she could be chill Betty. She could be Betty without cares, Betty without worry. Riverdale Betty already seemed far healthier than D.C. Betty or Boston Betty, "And my dad's a pretty good judge of character. Turns out he was right."

"I don't know how I could really, thank either of you, for all of this," Betty waved a hand around.

"What? A few burgers?" Archie asked, confused, "I mean, it's like…$5 if you really want to pay my dad back, but honestly don't worry about it. Business is going great."

She rolled her eyes until she realized Archie was dead serious.

Laughter bubbled up inside of her, so infectious, so pure-feeling, that it overtook her.

She hadn't laughed in such a very long time.

She hoped with Archie, she'd laugh a bit more these days.