Go-To Girl

Summary: Archie notices Ethel stumbling and takes pity on her, despite his best friend’s wishes.

Author’s Note: I really had fun with the last chapter. I have no idea where I’m going with this. Be warned. But read it anyway!

“I don’t get it. Why doesn’t he pay attention to me?” Ethel moaned, stirring her soda miserably with her red plastic straw. Nancy, Brigitte and Midge exchanged knowing looks and hedged to the best of their ability.

“Girl, don’t worry about Jughead. He’s a man. He’ll pay attention soon enough. You just need the right bait.”

“Bait? But I’ve tried everything! I wear his favorite color, I listen to his favorite music on my iPhone whenever he’s around, I bake him cookies…”

“That’s laying it on a little thick,” Midge mentioned carefully, not wanting to hurt Ethel’s feelings. “I didn’t do all that to attract Moose.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” Brigitte emphasized. “He follows you around like a puppy.”

“A St. Bernard,” Nancy corrected her, tsking. “Midge is right, though, girl. Don’t let him use you as a doormat. No man’s worth all that trouble. He’ll take you for granted if you let him.”

“He’s not treating me like a doormat. I don’t feel like one, anyway.”

“He’ll come around,” Brigitte said, in an attempt to console her. “You’re cute! I wish I was as skinny as you. Boys never notice me. It sucks being the fat girl.”

“Curvy,” Nancy told her pointedly. “What’s this ‘fat girl’ stuff? A man wants something he can reach out and grab, Bridge, and there’s nothing wrong with having a little meat on your bones. Works out fine for me.” Nancy slapped her hip for emphasis, making her friends giggle. “Chuck’s not complaining.”

“I’m a blob,” Brigitte complained. “I tried on a red dress last weekend that I wanted to wear to my recital next month, and it made me look like Kool-Aid Man.”

“Girl, you ain’t right,” Nancy chuckled. “Bet it looked good. You can wear a little red if you want to!”

“I don’t want to stand out. I’d feel weird if people stared at me.”

“It’s a recital. People are gonna stare while they’re listening to you, anyway,” Midge reminded her. “So why not wear what you like?”

“That’s just not me. I’m big,” she qualified, “but I’m not ‘large and in charge.’ That’s not how I roll.”

“There’s nothing wrong with how you look, Brigitte.” Ethel’s voice then grew disparaging toward her own predicament. “I look like a pipe cleaner. No boobs. No hips. Nada.”

“I’ll give you some of mine,” Brigitte suggested as she took a bite of her hot dog. “And I’ll lend you my spare tire.”

“Thanks,” Ethel murmured. “Sorry I’m such a drag, guys.”

“Nah,” Midge told her. “So he’s giving you the cold shoulder, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I hate that,” Brigitte agreed. “What’s even worse is when you finally have a guy ask for your number, and then they don’t bother to call.”

“No one’s ever even asked me for mine!”

“It’s overrated,” she countered. Brigitte had the rare guy chat her up every once in a while, but it seldom led to anything but her anxiously watching the phone.

“I’ll tell you one thing, girl,” Nancy piped up. “Don’t stalk him.”

“I don’t!”

“No?” she challenged, giving Ethel a brief neck roll and accusing glance.

“Well, not much…”

“How many times a day do you catch him at his locker?”

“Well… twice. Sometimes. Maybe three, if you count before homeroom.” Ethel’s cheeks flamed.

“What period does he have lunch?”

“Sixth.”

“Where does he sit?”

“The last round table in back, on the left. Why?”

“What does he always eat?”

“Everyone knows that! A pepperoni pizza, two Jell-Os, an order of fries, the barbecue burger and a Power-Ade.”

“I didn’t know that,” Brigitte pointed out.

“Me either. Kinda glad I didn’t up until now. Ew.” Midge wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“You’re stalking him,” Nancy finished. “Plain and simple.”

The girls’ attention changed from Ethel’s plight to the ding of Pop Tate’s door as a familiar redhead loitered inside the shop. “There’s his partner in crime,” Nancy mused.

“Now there’s someone I wish I could be like.”

“What, redheaded?” Brigitte wondered, puzzled.

“No. Popular. Great with the opposite sex. You know. Hot,” Ethel pronounced.

“Good point,” Brigitte agreed.

“Co-sign,” Midge murmured as she toyed with her fries.

“Guess I’d tap that, if he weren’t such a dog.” Nancy’s lip curled and she tsked. Ethel was mortified, hoping Archie didn’t hear them. He turned, sensing that he was being watched, and a lopsided smile greeted them.

“What’s up.”

“Hey,” Ethel called out. “Come on over!” He obliged, dutifully sitting down at their circular booth when Ethel slid over. He smelled good, Ethel noticed, like sports body wash and laundry detergent. “Are you here alone? Are you meeting anybody?” Her mind screamed, Like Juggie, maybe? As if heard her real question, Archie shrugged and burst her bubble.

“It’s just me. Jug has a test tomorrow, so he’s on lockdown. His mom promised him burgers off the grill if he stayed home and studied for it.” Ethel’s hopes were dashed, but that inspired her next likely food bribe that she could ply him with. I wonder how his mom makes them? she wondered. “Guess I’m just chopped liver, huh?”

“Huh?”

“You look disappointed.”

“Oh. No! Nooooo. Thanks for coming over. Hang out a while!”

“I’m going to order something to take home,” Archie confessed, but he was smirking at Ethel’s discomfiture and the way her cheeks flushed. It was fun to play with her, once in a while.

“Just as well. You know we’re gonna talk about your behind as soon as you leave this table,” Nancy teased. “Speaking of which, I need to call Chuck’s.” Nancy excused herself and headed toward the door. The girls watched her through the shop window, amused at the change in her body language and gestures as she reached him on her tiny smartphone.

“What else are you doing today, Arch?”

“Nothing. My homework’s already done; I finished my algebra in study hall. I might go shoot some hoops at Riverdale Junior’s court.” The junior high school had an outdoor court on their grounds and it was right down the road from Archie’s house. “I thought about practicing my guitar for a while, too, but Mom won’t let me plug in on a school day.”

“You can’t use your amps?” Brigitte asked.

“Nope. Sucks.”

“When’s your next show?” Ethel perked up again. If Archie was practicing, so was Juggie. Another show meant another opportunity to run into him outside of school. Ethel loved hearing him play. Archie brightened, warming to the subject.

“We might have one next month at the mall. It’ll be on a Saturday. Ron’s dad said we have to meet with him about the music so he can select something ‘suitable.’” Archie made finger quotes and pulled a face. Ethel giggled at his expression.

“Know any big band music? Lawrence Welk? Beethoven?”

“Yeek. No, thanks.” He patted her back briefly, a gesture Ethel wasn’t expecting. His hand was warm… “I’m gonna order and bail. Good seeing you guys. Later, bud.” He made a little shooting motion at Ethel and winked before he left the table. Ethel suppressed a pout; it had been nice to talk to him.

He also left before she could ask him anything else about Juggie. Oh, well. Tomorrow was another day.

Archie gave the girls one more parting wave as he left the shop with his to-go carton, leaving them an easy smile. He sighed to himself as he reached his car and keyed the ignition. Ethel. What was wrong with that girl? He paused in shifting gears when his cell buzzed at him, telling him he had a text.

Betty. No surprise. Archie hoped she wasn’t still pissed. He let the engine idle a few moments as he read her message. Archie sighed again. She wanted to meet him.

We have that French paper to work on. I’m headed to the library. Wanna meet me in the references section at four? Archie shrugged to himself. She was right. Even if she was mad at him, they were still partnered up for their history report. Betty had already done a lot of research and lent him her notes; the most Archie had written so far was the outline. It wasn’t fair to let her do all the work herself. That left his original plan to go to the basketball court in the dust.

The problem was, what if Veronica called him? He checked his messages, scanning for new ones, but Betty’s was the only one in his inbox so far. Archie decided to move it along, since there was a green car that had circled the block twice, waiting for him to vacate his parking spot. The smell of his food was torture, but Archie didn’t want to eat and drive. He’d just cleaned out his car of about a week’s worth of empty chip bags and fast food cups and vacuumed the seats.

He made up his mind by the time he reached his house. Archie locked his car and was texting with his left thumb as he entered the front hall. “Archie?” his mother called out from the kitchen.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Where were you? What took you so long to get home?”

“I just stopped at Pop’s.”

“Don’t eat that! I’m making dinner,” she scolded as she met him in the hall. She took his jacket from him before he could toss it on the floor, then frowned when it looked like he would kick his shoes off, too. Archie dutifully followed her into the kitchen and hung his jacket on the peg by the back door. He brought the carton to the cedar island in the middle of the room and began eating his fries.

“I’m still gonna be hungry. I want to eat something before I go to the library. I’m meeting Betty at four.”

“Why so late?” Mary Andrews complained. “Tell her to meet you earlier.”

“I won’t be gone that long. I’ll just stay til five-thirty. The library closes at six, anyway.”

“That’s still late,” she reminded him. “That’s fine. That’s a lot of food.”

“It’s not that much,” he argued as he bit into the dripping deluxe bacon burger, lapping a bit of barbecue sauce from his thumb. Pop had done it again; it was fantastic. Mary marveled at her son’s appetite. Thankfully he didn’t eat like his friend Forsythe, but having a teenaged boy still put a dent in her wallet every week when she bought groceries. She almost wanted to remind him that his father had been built like him once, but that his metabolism hadn’t kept up with all of his favorite fried chicken dinners after they were married. He’d learn, she supposed. And Mary loved every inch of Fred Andrews, receding hairline, paunch and all.

“Oh, by the way… were you expecting a call from Veronica?” Archie choked on a fry and coughed. “Don’t eat so fast! Are you all right?”

“Fine… I’m fine. When?” Archie’s eyes watered as he cleared his throat.

“Right after school got out. I told her you’d call back when you got home, but I wasn’t expecting you to be gone so long.”

“I stopped at Jug’s first. Then Pop’s.”

“You need to call me when you do that. At least check in,” she scolded. “Don’t drip on my clean table!”

“Sorry,” he shrugged. Archie dragged a fry through the ketchup leaking from his burger and crammed it into his mouth, blissfully ignorant of everything else.

“What’s Betty up to, anyway? I haven’t heard you mention her lately.”

“She’s fine,” Archie said evasively.

“I’m so used to seeing you two text each other all the time.” Mary began washing the pots and pans in the sink as she grilled him. “Betty’s a nice girl.”

“I know, Ma.”

“At least she remembers to put her clothes on in the morning.” Archie almost choked on his food. “Veronica’s going to catch pneumonia one of these days. How can her mother let her go out the door like that?”

“Ronnie looks fine!” he protested.

“Of course you think so. You’re male, so your opinion’s disqualified as having any validity here. She called, too, by the way.”

“That’s nice.” That was the nail in Archie’s coffin. Great.

“It’s like you have your own fan club,” Mary remarked dryly.

“Nah. Ma… sheesh. It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like? It looks like you’re dating two girls at the same time from where I’m sitting. That’s not nice.”

“Ma!”

“Don’t ‘Ma’ me. I call it like I see it, and what I see is my son not acting like a gentleman. It’s wrong to string people along and make them have expectations that they shouldn’t.”

“I’m not stringing them along. I like both of them.”

“That’s no excuse. Dating more than one person at a time just means twice the problems down the road.”

“I’m not having problems right now,” he argued simply. “I can’t help it if they both like me.”

“You can help playing games with them. That’s wrong, son.”

“Ma,” he whined, tsking in disgust. “What’s the big deal? I like them. They like me. And I’m young. It’s not like I need to be tied down to one person, anyway.”

“This isn’t about being ‘tied down.’ It’s about loyalty and treating someone right if you want them to stick around. Betty’s a nice girl.”

“So’s Ronnie.”

“I’m not saying she isn’t. She’s just… how can I put this? Spoiled. Yes, that’s the word I’m looking for. Veronica Lodge is very, very spoiled.”

“Nah. Ron’s fun.”

“Fun.” Mary rolled her blue eyes heavenward. “Tell her that fun doesn’t have to involve you always asking for advances on your allowance to take her out.”

“I like showing her a good time.”

“Then be more resourceful. Creative, even.”

“Like what? Picking daisies? Going fishing?” Archie teased. Mary swatted him upside the back of the head with a dish towel.

“You don’t have bottomless pockets. The well’s going to run dry. And there isn’t enough of you to go around, either, Archie.”

“Sure there is!” That earned him another swat.

“No.”

“Ma. Ma. It’s no big deal. I’m just having fun. Whenever either one of them gets sick of me, then it’s over. I’ll date the one who likes me the most. How’s that a problem?” He shrugged and smirked. “Everything works out fine.” He continued to inhale his burger. Mary shook her head.

“You’ve got a long road ahead. Just don’t end up in the news.”

“Like what?”

“Teenage Boy Narrowly Escapes Double Homicide Attempt. Details at eleven.”

The library visit went about as Archie expected. Betty was aloof toward him, but she’d already found several useful references and made copies by the time he met her. They sat in relative silence, highlighting and taking down notes. Betty frowned when she noticed that he kept looking down into his lap.

“What’re you doing?”

“Nothing.” She saw his eyes flitting back and forth at whatever he was looking at so intently.

“You’re texting her, aren’t you?” Betty folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at him, fuming.

“I’m just messaging her back. It’s no big deal, Betty.”

“No big deal?” she sputtered. The librarian shushed them in passing, and Betty gave her a conciliatory smile. Once they were alone again, Betty hissed at him in an angry whisper. “Are you going to spend the rest of our study time messaging her? You’ll do homework with me, and then go run off with her to Pop’s?”

“No. That’s not what I planned.” That didn’t mean it wasn’t what Ronnie planned, however. Her last text asked him to come over to her place after dinner to watch The Voice with her and have s’mores.

“You’re going to meet up with her,” she rephrased more bluntly.

“Well…” he hedged.

“I’m done. I’ve had enough.” Betty clapped the reference book shut and began gathering up her notes.

“Bets! It’s not that late yet, we still have time before everything closes! Don’t be mad!” he cajoled, trying to give her a disarming smile, but it was too little, too late.

“I’m sick of you chasing after her! Archie Andrews, do you consider me your girlfriend?”

“Huh?” That took him aback.

“Your girlfriend. Not just a friend who happens to be a girl.” She cocked one blonde brow. “I’m waiting.”

“You and I have fun when we hang out. You’re an awesome girl, Bets. There’s no one like you!”

“But that doesn’t mean there’s no one else but me,” she challenged. “I’m tired of wondering. I’m tired of guessing whether you’re out with her when you don’t return my calls.”

“I can’t be free every moment of the day.” That earned him a huff of disgust, and Betty turned on her heel, ponytail flying out behind her. Archie panicked. “Bets! Hold on!”

“I’d never do this to you, or to anyone else that I cared about. I’m such an idiot,” she muttered under her breath.

“No, you’re not!” He caught up to her as she exited the front lobby, and he thrust himself into her path before she could descend the steps to the parking lot. “I do care about you, Betty.”

“You care about Ron more. She’s my best friend. You’re a snake, Archie. I mean, it’d almost be better if she was at least someone I didn’t know.” Betty’s eyes swam with tears, and Archie felt like a heel.

Yet he still turned things around, and he made it about himself. About his feelings.

“Betty,” he told her calmly, taking her shoulders and pulling her toward him. She ducked her head from beneath his gaze, and she swatted at his hand as he tried to turn her face in his direction. “C’mon, Bets. C’mon. It’s not like that. I care about you. You mean a lot to me.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not special to you, or you couldn’t do this. I keep giving you an inch, Archie. I keep giving you the benefit, but it’s not benefiting me anymore.” It was so tempting to let him hold her while she was so distraught, to give in to that craving for his reassurance. But every time, it just broke open the scab before it could heal.

“Betty, what do you want from me?”

“Just you. And just me, for you. But that’s asking too much. Good night.” She was the portrait of heartbreak, nose damp, her eyes reddened and glistening. Her posture crumpled, and Archie felt that cramping in his stomach that only happened when he knew he’d lost something he couldn’t get back.

“Bets… BETTY!” She wrested herself from him and practically shoved him out of her way as she fled to her tiny white car.

“Good night,” she emphasized, not so much as glancing back at him.

“Shoot,” he hissed. That went well. He went back to his abandoned notes and packed up to go home.

*

The next morning, Jughead tersely returned Ethel’s cheerful “Good morning!” as they filed into history class. She headed to her desk and tucked her backpack under her seat, glad to have reached her favorite time of the school day. She searched for conversation openers quickly as she watched him. Jughead popped a couple of Tic-Tacs and drummed two pencils on his text, no doubt practicing a solo. He’s so cute! Ethel gushed silently.

“Did you end up studying a lot last night?” she blurted, thwarting his attempts to ignore her.

“Huh?” He kept drumming absently, adding the palms of his hands to the hardcover for bass.

“Did you study a lot?” Ethel raised her voice half a notch, or so she thought. “Juggie! JUGGIE!” Several sets of eyes swung her way, and she blushed at the sound of low titters. An ugly tingle ran through her when Jughead jerked to attention and craned his neck to meet her expectant gaze.

That was annoyance in his dark blue eyes, plain and simple. She tried to recoup her attempt and redeem herself. “Um. Hi. Ehhh…”

“What’s up?” he offered blandly, but he turned away from her before she could think of a reply. Disappointment made her shoulders sag. This wasn’t going the way Ethel had hoped.

Archie sailed into the room three seconds after the last bell and scrambled into his seat at the front of the class. Miss Grundy paused in writing the subject of her lesson on the chalkboard and turned in time to see his lopsided grin. “You’re tardy, Andrews.”

“Better late than never,” he insisted innocently.

“Let that thought comfort you in detention after school today.” Archie winced as she turned her back on him again to finish her task. Reggie sniggered.

“You got served,” he jeered under his breath to his redheaded rival.

“Bite me,” he muttered back.

“Want to make it two days of detention?” Miss Grundy inquired, “and Mantle, care to join him? There’s plenty of room.”

 

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Reggie assured her cheerfully.

“Good. Then focus. Take out your homework. I’ll give you the chance to correct your work before you turn it in, and then we’re making flash cards. Don’t forget Friday’s test.” A chorus of groans greeted her and Miss Grundy gave an exaggerated shrug. “If you’ve been studying the material, this should be a walk in the park.”

Archie was distracted, barely paying attention to the answers she rattled off from her book. He toyed with the edge of his binder, peeling back the edge of the torn polyurethane. His mind drifted to Betty and her outburst in the library, rewinding over and over again to her driving off. His stomach knotted itself up with his newest quandary. How would he make it up to her? All night long he’d nursed panic at the thought of losing Betty completely. She’d avoided him all day, and there was an ugly gap where her smile and easygoing chatter were supposed to be. Archie felt deprived of simple privileges she gave him like random hugs or tugging her blonde ponytail in passing, Betty giving him mints or on-the-spot neck rubs. Her absence felt awkward and frustrating and left Archie with a bad taste in his mouth. It was his own fault for overestimating her patience, which bothered him.

He was hopeless in class. Minute details were too interesting, like the fluff balls pilling up on his sweater or the number of scratches in the wood finish of his battered desk. A random White Stripes song kept going through his head. Betty’s words echoed in his ears, underscored by Miss Grundy’s low drone…

“Archie. Yoo-hoo? Take one and pass the rest back,” she ordered impatiently.

“Huh? Oh. Shoot. Sorry.” He belatedly took the stack of papers from Moose. The enormous wide receiver sat craned around in his seat, shaking his head as Archie took the pile of worksheets from him.

“They tell me that the lights are on, but nobody’s home,” he marveled.

“Get bent.” Archie passed back the stack and hastily shoved his copy into his binder, watching the clock impatiently. Four more excruciating minutes. Shoot.

He heard the click of a small plastic lid being opened, and out of the corner of his eye, Ethel placed a Scope breath strip into her mouth. She kept furtively checking her watch, and Archie almost sighed.

Ethel Muggs. What a character. Archie pitied her. She wasn’t unlikable. She wasn’t a bad girl at all. She was just so… awkward. So goofy. She wasn’t doing herself any favors crushing on Jug. His best friend could be cool, and they’d be brothers for life, but he wasn’t interested in Ethel in “that way,” and he had a callous way of showing it. Jughead Jones had razor-sharp wit and was smart as a whip, but he was sometimes too blunt, too direct with his words.

Jughead was just Jughead. It couldn’t be helped. There was no point in trying to change him. Ethel didn’t seem to want him to change, to her credit, since many a girl had come along who had tried, but she was asking a lot for him to let her in.

Ethel was an amusing study in wasted effort as Archie’s eyes roved over her. She wore boy-cut jeans and white K-Swiss sneakers, topping it with a lime green, long-sleeved Aeropostale tee. The outfit was simple enough, but her makeup was a different story. Someone told her that green eye shadow was a good idea. Her current hairstyle of center-parting her hair and tying it up in two high pigtails made her resemble an anime character. It stood at odds with her long, angular face. She was still wearing cartoon-inspired jewelry, this time a Hello Kitty pendant. Little silver hearts dangled from her ears, and silly bands in several colors laddered down her left wrist.

She was so thin; her figure was almost boyish compared to her peers. Ethel had nice, straight posture and broad shoulders and narrow hips that would no doubt make her a fashion designer’s dream, but she didn’t have the curves to fill out a tight skirt or a bikini. As if she felt Archie’s eyes on her, Ethel suddenly glanced at him and then ducked her head, giving him a shy, confused smile. Archie gave her a cavalier nod and turned away out of politeness.

Jughead just wasn’t into being someone’s obsession. It just wasn’t his style. Archie, on the other hand, had no problem with it whatsoever, and Betty and Veronica both delivered.

Archie hated to see Ethel crash and burn, but there was no help for it. It sucked. She was such a nice girl.

The bell shocked him from his reverie, and his stomach leapt in relief. “Take those flash cards home and study them. Remember, they’re reminders, not indicative of everything that will be on the test. Study! Be thorough.” Miss Grundy waved them out of the room as she retrieved her commuter cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. They flooded out of the room, and in predictable fashion, Ethel galloped after Jughead into the hall, practically knocking three people over in her effort.

“I can’t watch,” Archie muttered.

“Can’t watch what?” Samantha inquired as she sidled up to him.

“Hey.”

“What’s going on?” She followed his line of vision to Jughead as he hurried away, and Sam saw Ethel stopping him. A knowing smirk twisted her lips. “Ah. Love birds.”

“She wouldn’t mind,” Archie agreed. “Ain’t gonna happen.”

“Nah. Poor baby.”

“He’s just not into her.”

“That’s not what I mean. She’s too good for him. What does she even see in Jug?”

“Pfft… are you kidding? Really? What’s wrong with Jug?” Archie asked defensively.

“I don’t know. Wait, I do. Insensitive, selfish, oblivious to her feelings, a total weenie when it comes to just being honest with her, anti-social… want me to go on?”

“That’s all part of his charm.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t care if he’s my boyfriend’s cousin. He needs to lighten up and grow up.”

“I know, but come on… it’s Ethel. Big Ethel. She’s such a goof.”

“She’s one of a kind,” Sam corrected him. “Is she every guy’s flavor?” They watched Ethel laughing at something that Jughead said that he didn’t intend to be funny, hearing her emphatic snort from where they stood. “Probably not. But she has her own pizzazz.”

“Pizzazz. Ah. That’s what you call what she has.” Archie pondered it and shrugged. “Explain that one to me, please.”

“Certainly, my good man. It’s that little quirky, awkward thing that she has. Ethel wears her heart on her sleeve. She isn’t a game player. In other words, she isn’t a Ronnie or a Midge or a Cheryl.”

“Come again?” How did she even manage to bring Ethel into the same ring as those three? “You’ve lost me.”

“With Ethel, what you see is what you get. No gloss. No smoke screens or wondering what the heck is on her mind. She’ll tell you, straight-up. Maybe even in more detail than you want. But you always know what kind of girl you’ll get with Ethel Lorraine Muggs.”

“Lorraine? That’s her middle name.”

“Yup. It’s old-fashioned. It’s cute.”

“Hm. Didn’t know that.”

“Now you know.” Samantha’s expression changed as she focused her attention fully on the scene unfolding before them. “Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“That’s a kicked puppy dog face she’s pulling.”

“Ooh.” Archie had been so distracted by Samantha’s banter – and let’s face it, her strawberry blonde good looks, since Sam was all curves, making him envy Bingo – that he’d forgotten his concern for his friend. He saw Jughead slamming his locker door, earning him stares from several sets of eyes. Ethel visibly winced, and so did Sam.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“GET A CLUE!”

“That really doesn’t sound good,” Archie amended.

“Look,” they heard Jughead say as they drifted up through the crowd, “I get it. You like me. But news flash, Bee: If I don’t encourage you following me, accosting me, and STALKING ME everywhere I go, offering me things, or anything else, it’s a fair bet I don’t want your number. I probably don’t want to call you. I DEFINITELY don’t want to ask you out. Just a theory.”

“But… I just thought…” Ethel’s smile faltered and trembled. Archie saw a small, folded slip of paper in her hand, and he knew it was her number. Pity gripped him, and he exhaled a sharp breath. Her shoulders dropped, her body noticeably deflated with his rejection, and with the humiliation that dripped from it.

“You didn’t think,” Jughead muttered. “Just… back off. Bye, Ethel.”

“Okay,” she expelled shakily. Ethel turned on her heel and began to hurry off, before she realized she was going in the wrong direction. She almost plowed into Jughead on the way away from him, head bent down nearly to her chest, the stark picture of a girl who wanted to disappear.

“Burned,” Sam whispered.

“Geez,” Archie agreed. “Not cool.”

“But honest. He gets points for being honest. And a dick.” Archie wished she wasn’t telling the truth, but she’d called it right on the nose.

Jughead noticed him standing by and his expression grew contrite. “Hey, man. You just saw that, right? She tried to give me her number.”

“Yeah. Nice job, bro.” Jughead made a face of disgust and pointed after her.

“She didn’t get it! Now she does, or she’d better! I don’t like Big Ethel! Not that way,” Jughead sputtered. “She was driving me nuts!”

“She looked hurt,” Archie told him carefully. “That would’ve hurt my feelings.”

“Who are you, Doctor Phil? And that wasn’t you. She’s a stalker. You don’t stalk, and you’re not desperate.”

“You think she’s desperate?” Archie inwardly recoiled. “She’s just… eager.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Reggie interjected as he joined them. “Don’t leave her hangin’, man. Big Ethel will treat you right!”

“Bite me.”

Samantha hovered by Archie’s elbow. “Arch… go after her. She went that way.”

“Why me?” he said, clearly baffled.

“Just go. You’ve got longer legs.” She turned to Jughead. “Not cool.”

“She doesn’t get it.”

“That’s not the point. Just remember, Juggie: Karma sucks. Mark my words.”

*

Archie found himself walking at a fast clip down the hall, following Ethel down her likely path. He was running late for lunch, but Sam was right. He shouldn’t have witnessed Ethel’s dressing down by his best friend, but Ethel picked a lousy place to offer him her number. “Seen Ethel?” he inquired of a couple of sophomores chatting by the water fountain. They shrugged and shook their heads, then ogled him as he walked off.

“Did you notice Ethel coming this way?” he asked Dilton as he made his way out of the library.

“I think she went that way,” he nodded over his shoulder.

“Left,” Ginger added.

“Thanks!”

Ethel inevitably gave herself away. Archie heard low, muffled sounds coming from behind a closed, nondescript gray door. He cautiously touched it, then leaned in to listen for a moment.

Sobbing. That’s what he was hearing. Archie cringed. Ouch.

“Sheesh,” he muttered under his breath. “Bee? You in there?”

“Go away,” she sniffled.

“You all right?”

“What do you think?”

“I’ll take that as a no. Wanna come out of there and talk to me?”

“No. Just leave me alone.”

“You’re in a broom closet.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re gonna be late for class.”

“So are you. You’re always late.”

She had him there. “I have lunch next,” he pointed out.

“Leave me alone, Arch.”

“Forget this,” he decided. Archie peered around the hall. The crowd was thinning, and no one was paying attention to him, anyway. He jerked open the door before she could protest, and Archie’s first glance told him everything he needed to know.

Her green shadow was completely ruined, and her cheeks were a ruddy, blotchy mess, made worse by her parchment-fair skin. “Close the door!” she yelped indignantly.

“Fine.” Archie stepped into the closet and closed it behind him with a low click. He didn’t bother to overthink it. He felt silly standing in there, and he wasn’t even certain what good it would do.

“I’m so embarrassed. He hates me.”

“He doesn’t ha-“

“Don’t lie,” she said, stopping his entreaty. “Don’t sugarcoat it. There’s no way to make what happened back there sound any better, Archie. I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not!” Archie said noncommittally. “Maybe… maybe you just picked the wrong moment.”

“Wrong moment? When’s the right time, then?” she railed. She dashed tears from her eyes, and Archie reached into his backpack, trying to find her something to wipe her face with. He ended up with a half-crumpled fast food napkin, which she took gratefully. “Thanks.”

“There might not be a right time. I get that you’re into him, but Ethel… you ever think Jug might think you’re laying it on a little thick?”

“What?” she breathed. Confusion filled her almond-shaped gray eyes. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just… you might need to give Jug a little space. Just a bit.” He held up his finger and thumb to specify his intent a little more. “Jughead doesn’t always like a big fuss made over him. He’s kind of ‘hands off,’ y’know?”

“I… I guess.” She dabbed at her eyes. “Why did you even come in here?”

“Well… I was just wondering if you were okay.” Sam did some of that “wondering” for him, granted, but watching Jughead blow up at her like that made him uncomfortable.

“I just wanna die. I wish I could just disappear.”

“You’ll have to come out of the closet at some point.”

“I almost wish I were in the closet instead. If I didn’t like boys, I might not have this problem,” she joked half-heartedly. Archie smirked.

“Heh. Eh. Yeah. Well, not really.”

“Girls aren’t as complicated.”

“Baloney. Yeah, you are!”

 

“Not to me. I don’t get guys.”

“No. You just don’t get Jug.”

“But I want to!” she whined. “I like him so much, Archie! I’ve had a crush on him since second grade. Well, maybe fifth, I guess, when he grew taller than me. He’s cute.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Archie confessed. “You think so?”

“Definitely.” Ethel blew her nose loudly. Archie winced.

“Ew.”

“Sorry. I’m keeping this.”

“I insist on it.”

“I look like crap, don’t I?”

“Well… no. You just… have something…” Archie motioned with his finger around his own eyes.

“Got another napkin?” she asked meekly.

“Sure. I should, anyway,” he offered as he dug around in his pack again. “Here.” He tucked a small wad of them into her hand. “Bee, your hand feels like ice.”

“I get panic attacks.”

“Sheesh. Wow.”

“They suck. Thanks, Archie. I’m getting out of here. Don’t miss your lunch.”

“You’re late, now.”

“I’ll tell the teacher I had cramps.”

“TMI.”

“Sorry. Bye, Arch.”

“Bye, Ethel.” He watched her emerge from the closet and flee down the hall. It was only then that he noticed that she smelled like Curve perfume. One more detail that Jughead wouldn’t notice, clearly.