Pigtails

Author’s Note: I want to thank anyone reading this here on AFF, and also out on DeviantArt, I’ve met some very nice people in my comments so far. I’ll try not to let this lag long, especially since I want to move the plot a little faster, and age the characters a little more. This fic already has me plotting out another Beggie piece in my head, I already have a title, song references, and an idea for the cast, but I don’t want to pull myself under too many unfinished stories.

“Look at me, I’m Sandra Dee…” Veronica and Betty snickered, cringing at Cheryl’s off-key alto.

“Ouch,” Jughead murmured, wincing. “Right now, I wish I was Piccolo.”

“Who?” Betty made a face.

“The green dude from Dragon Ball,” he explained as though she was dense. “He can grow his ears back after ripping them off.”

“Nice.”

“Her singing really is that bad,” Veronica chimed in. “I wouldn’t miss my ears right now.”

“All that money, and her daddy can’t buy her singing lessons,” Jughead continued as they watched several clusters of their classmates huddle in little groups with handfuls of sheet music. The auditorium’s first five rows were full of hopefuls, and the resulting cacophony of people rehearsing the title number or reading lines thundered through the space that began to feel too small. Cheryl stood off toward the corner of the stage, trying on every note like a pair of Vivienne Westwood shoes.

“Three more days of this,” Betty sighed. Tryouts would last all week for the spring play, leaving them victim to Cheryl’s voice until the cast list showed up on the school bulletin board.

“I can sing better than that,” Veronica boasted. Betty remained mum. “I can, can’t I?” she prodded, giving Betty a reproachful look for not agreeing with her fast enough.

“Sure! You can sing,” she offered uncomfortably. Veronica wasn’t satisfied.

“I’ve got a great voice!” she pouted.

“Everybody does in the shower.” Jughead’s tone was deadpan and a hint of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. Veronica nimbly flipped him the bird. “What part are you trying out for, Bets?”

“All of them, I guess,” she said with a shrug. “If I don’t make it, I’ll work on the costumes.”

“Good plan.”

“Make mine sexy,” Veronica warned her.

“If you get the part.”

“I said make it sexy,” Veronica sniffed, determined. Betty chuckled.

“Mine, too,” Brigitte piped up, raising her hand with a grin.

“Right. Place your orders now,” Betty muttered. Brigitte grinned.

“This is my favorite play. I love Marty and Frenchie.”

“Why don’t you try out for the lead?” Betty asked.

“No! It’s… nah. It’s not me.”

“You’re good!” Betty reminded her.

“She’s great,” Jughead corrected her, folding his arms and arching his brow at the plump sophomore with chestnut brown hair. She shrugged back at him.

“That part’s not me.”

“You could try out for Jan,” Cheryl cut in, smirking at Brigitte. “That part would fit you just fine.” Brigitte flushed and looked annoyed. Jan was the cast’s nerdy “token fat girl” and talked about little else but food.

“Shut up, Cher,” Jughead snapped. “Who asked you?”

“I’m entitled to an opinion.”

“You’re entitled to stuff it.”

Betty and Veronica caught each other’s eye and pulled a face. It wasn’t typical of him to stick up for anyone when it was less effort for him to stay out of it, but Jughead always favored the underdog.

“Up yours.”

“Show me how. You’d know.”

“Asshole.” Cheryl tsked and flounced off.

“There she goes,” Betty mused.

“She’s leaving the playground, ladies and gentlemen, and she’s taking her toys with her,” Ethel quipped. “Ugh…”

“What part are you going out for?”

“Frenchie. I love Frenchie.”

“You could do that part pretty well,” Betty agreed.

“She’s funny. And I’d get to wear a pink wig.”

“Work it, girl.” Betty was already designing the costume in her head, visualizing a poodle skirt and twin set and little barrettes in Ethel’s hair, bobby sox and saddle shoes. She giggled at the image.

“What’s Moose doing here?”

“Midge dragged him here to watch her try out.”

“Poor guy.”

“He doesn’t mind.”

“Okay. Better question: Is that Reggie?” Betty turned in the direction that Veronica was pointing and made a low sound of surprise.

“Wow.”

“I never thought he’d end up here.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Betty murmured.

“It’s no stretch,” Jughead shrugged. “His mom used to make him take tap dancing lessons.”

“Shut. Up.” Betty’s mouth dropped open.

“No joke. He did. She made a bargain with him that he could take guitar lessons if she could sign him up for dance, too. Said she wanted him to be ‘well-rounded.’”

“Reg plays guitar?” Betty was jealous. She always wanted to play a musical instrument, but the closest she ever came was when a friend of her mother’s showed her how to play a little tambourine when she visited one summer.

“Yep.”

“Wow.”

“He’s a show-off. I’m not surprised that he showed up,” Jug continued.

“He’d make a good Danny,” Veronica added.

“God, I hope not,” Betty said, cringing.

“Why not?”

“The part should go to someone who would actually appreciate it.”

“He probably would,” Veronica argued. “Yeesh. Someone’s touchy.”

“I’m not touchy. He’s just a jerk,” Betty sniffed.

“Awwwww,” Ethel teased. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Shut up!”

“Betty likes Reggie,” Veronica grinned, poking her.

“Shut up! ShutupshutupSHUTUP!” Betty brandished her fist, sending her girlfriends ducking and grinning. “Don’t even.” Betty watched Reggie resentfully, then ducked her eyes as he turned in their direction. “Don’t make him look over here.”

“Hey, Reg! Ron called, waving him over.

“I hate you.”

“Ask him about the tap dancing lessons,” Veronica prodded evilly. A slow smirk curled Betty’s lips.

“You ask him.”

“Ask me about what?” He showed up right by her elbow, naturally, and she wanted to kick Veronica.

“Nothing,” Betty piped up, schooling her face into an innocent mask.

“Sounded like someone was talking shit.”

“You’ve got me mixed up with someone who’d waste the time and effort.” Her smile was saccharine.

“Sounds like I had you mixed up with Jason, then, if you wanna talk about wasted time and effort,” Reggie scoffed without missing a beat. “Ooooh. Did that sting?” Her look was venomous.

“Fuck you.”

“Ouch. Potty mouth.” He pretended to look wounded, but his eyes danced at her expense. “Aren’t you tired of dangling him yet?”

“Please say yes,” Veronica cut in.

“I know, right?” Reggie went on.

“It’s none of your business,” Betty told him. “And be nice,” she admonished Veronica. Her best friend pouted and stomped her foot.

“Don’t wanna. He’s pond scum.”

“I’m with Ron on that one,” Jughead agreed.

“Make that three,” Ethel chimed in.

“What? He’s all right.”

“No. The boy’s all wrong,” Ethel told her. “Wrong, wrong, wrong.”

“Do you even return his calls?” Reg challenged.

“Look who’s talking. Has Dolores hunted you down yet?”

“Nice.” Jughead held up his hand, and Ethel gave him a fist-bump.

“’Hunt down’ is right.” Veronica tsked at him while Reggie shrugged.

“What?”

“She’s a psycho,” Betty told him. “It’s your fault.”

“How’s it my fault?”

“You led her on,” Betty scolded him.

“No, I didn’t. I liked her when I liked her. It wasn’t working.”

“Nice. That’s really nice.” Betty wrinkled her nose in disgust. “How can you treat someone like that?”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I don’t treat people that way!”

“Have you returned Jason’s calls? Be honest.”

“Sure I have.”

“And you’re going out with him ‘When?’” Reg held up his hand to his ear. “What was that? When? Oh, right… never.”

“Friday,” Betty announced. Reggie’s smug look faltered.

“Friday, what?”

“Friday. I’m going out with him on Friday,” she admitted.

“WHY?” Veronica gave her arm a little slap. “When the hell were you gonna tell me?”

“After my date,” Betty answered. “I knew you’d go batshit.” Ethel groaned and Jug shook his head. Brigitte shuddered.

“You were right. What’s wrong with you, Betty? You don’t really like him?”

“He’s okay. It’s just a movie.”

“That’s an hour and a half of your life that you won’t get back.”

“Shut up, Ron.”

“No. I forbid it. You’re not going on that date.”

“I already told him yes.”

“No’s just as easy. It’s even shorter. NO. See? Easy. Now you try.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, Bets.” Reggie lost his smile and his dark eyes probed hers. “He’s not as cool as you think he is.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” she huffed. “Why don’t you poke your nose out of my business and go grab your tap shoes, Mantle.” She flounced off, leaving him frowning in her wake.

“I knew she was talking shit over here,” he growled. “Sheesh…”

*

Betty fumed all the way to the water fountain in the hallway. What was up with her friends? And why did Reggie think he had any input at all? She mulled it as the cool water trickled over her lips.

“Pssst…” someone hissed behind her. She bent up quickly, but not before she accidentally sprayed herself in the nose.

“Ack!”

“Shit!” Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” she argued as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. He reached into his backpack and found a slightly mangled packet of tissues, handing it over. She took one gratefully and cleaned up. “What’re you doing here? I thought you had baseball practice.”

“Nah. I’ve gotta leave early for a dental appointment. I just told Coach Kleats.”

“Got any cavities?”

“Blossoms don’t get cavities,” he bragged.

“Oh, my goodness, what was I thinking?” she deadpanned, slapping her own hand.

“I might forgive you by Friday.” He closed the gap between them slightly as she leaned back against the wall beside the fountain.

“You’re too merciful.”

“I know.” He toyed with a lock of hair from her ponytail. “You look nice.”

“It’s the end of the day, I look terrible,” she argued, but she beamed at the praise.

“Not so terrible,” he mused. He caught her hand, toying with her fingers and lacing them through his. “What’re you doing right now?”

“Tryouts.”

“What? For Grease?”

“Yup.”

“You sing?”

“I was gonna try out. I dunno.”

“No. You should. Just don’t get the lead, or my sister will throw a fit.”

“Have you heard your sister sing?”

“No.”

“Come with me for a moment.” She pulled him after her and they both leaned in through the doorway. As if on cue, they heard Cheryl belting out the opening bars of “Summer Lovin’,” and Jason cringed.

“Shit. That’s worse than when she sings in the shower.”

“You said it. I didn’t.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“You don’t sing?”

“Nope. Not even at gunpoint.”

“Smart man.”

“I resent that.”

“Awwww.” She feigned sympathy at his hurt look, but he ruined it by smirking at her.

“Which movie do you wanna see?”

“I’m fine with whatever.” They went back to the fountain, but Jay leaned against the wall this time, and he widened his stance, encouraging Betty to stand between his feet. Her cheeks flushed and she had a hard time meeting his green eyes. He tipped her chin up, forcing the contact, and she chuckled nervously. “Why so shy?”

“M’not.”

“Yes you are.”

“I’m not that shy.”

“Prove it.”

“What…” The question died on her lips when he cupped her nape and leaned down for a kiss, sampling her. Her little sound of surprise changed into a sigh of pleasure, and her fingers crept up to his collar, fisting themselves in it. Betty heard his backpack hit the floor with a low thunk, and his arm snapped around her waist, pulling her in to him for more. Her body hummed with excitement in response. His cologne teased her senses, and his chest felt hard beneath her touch. She registered his fingers combing through her hair, tangling in it, and heartbeat sped up when he murmured her name over her lips.

“C’mere…”

“Jay…”

“You’re not going back yet.”

“Okay. Just a minute,” she chided him between kisses.

“Uh-uh.”

“Dentist,” she mumbled, but he caught her ripe, plump lower lip between his teeth and groaned over how good she tasted.

“Betty!” The low, feminine hiss snapped her back to attention, and they sprang apart. Betty whirled on the source, cheeks scarlet and ponytail slightly mussed. Ethel looked sheepish.

“They’re lining everyone up and taking names,” she told her, nonplussed. “You don’t want them to miss you.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

“Bye, Jay.”

“Call you.”

“Okay,” she tossed over her shoulder. She ducked away from Ethel’s reproachful look as she edged past her through the doorway. Veronica waved her over to stand with her, and she looked puzzled.

“What took you so long?”

“Nothing.”

“Where were you?”

“I was thirsty.” Veronica wondered why she looked so guilty, but Miss Grundy’s voice cut through the chatter.

“Listen up! Everyone gets a number once you sign up on this list. Three days of tryouts. Today we sing. Tomorrow we run lines. Thursday, we try out a little choreography. Put your name under the character that you’re trying out for, and we will consider each of you. Good luck! Even if you don’t get cast, we need extras in the chorus, set designers, costume designers, lighting techs, orchestra members and people to sell tickets the night of the show and to bake refreshments. This is a big production, and we’ll find places for as many of you as we can to make this show a success.”

“Glad I don’t have to try out,” Jug mentioned.

 

“Sure. You know how to play an instrument.” Jughead signed up for the orchestra right away, making things easy for himself. He was an excellent drummer and he would be down in the pit in front of the stage, out of sight, which was fine with him.

“You could just do the costumes.”

“I know. I just want to try out. It could be fun to actually be in it.”

“Know how to sing?”

“No.”

“Right. Warm up that sewing machine, Bets.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

*

Vocal tryouts were an exercise in futility for Miss Grundy and Mr. Flutesnoot. Half of the students were tone-deaf, and what few who were relatively gifted didn’t sing loudly enough to reach past the third row.

“Maybe the cold reads will go better tomorrow,” he sighed as he pored over his clipboard.

“Please, Lord, all I ask is five decent ones to work with, not much, just someone who won’t turn my ears to putty.”

“Brigitte’s here,” he pointed out, nodding to the edge of the stage.

“I hope she tries out for a lead.”

“Use your authority to as director to move her in there, anyway, even if she just wants to be in the chorus.”

“I know. I wish she wasn’t so self-conscious.”

“You remember what it was like at her age.” The two veteran teachers had attended Riverdale High together, and they both remembered what it was like being lanky, awkward and unpopular.

“She’s talented. This is her turn to shine.”

“If we survive this,” he muttered as Cheryl Blossom took the stage, smoothing her too-short skirt.

“Motrin?”

“Here.” He unscrewed the bottle as Miss Grundy motioned for Miss Haggly to play the piano. They forced patient smiles onto their faces as she opened her mouth.

“Good! Keep going!” Miss Grundy encouraged, even as her teeth rattled. “Shoot me,” she whispered.

“Just remember,” he reminded her through his teeth, “you’re tenured.”

*

“How are the auditions going?”

“It’s a mess. I’m so nervous,” Betty admitted as she fixed herself up in the mirror. She had Nancy on her tiny phone’s speaker, and her cheeks were still flushed. There were five people ahead of her to sing Sandy’s part, and her stomach was full of butterflies, even though she didn’t have a vested interest in the part. But there was still a problem.

Reggie. She hated it when she fell under his scrutiny. He made her feel small, unskilled, and awkward so frequently, like an easy target for his barbed tongue. Betty was good at a lot of things, but she wasn’t a show-off, not really. There were moments, though, when she felt the same way she did at the lake, when he lured her out onto the pier and made her throw herself in the water. He loved to make her react, and in the process, she made a fool out of herself.

What if she was off-key? What if her voice broke or she was too loud? Too shrill? What if she fumbled the words? She’d never hear the end of it if she stunk. What was worse was that Archie showed up unexpectedly. He canoodled with Veronica, showing up to give her moral support, and Betty burned with jealousy. She knew he’d already spoken to Miss Grundy about being in the play’s orchestra on guitar, something he didn’t have to audition for, since it would satisfy his music elective requirements for the year, and he was already rehearsing the song in his stage band class. Betty’s spirits sank. She didn’t have Nancy there pulling for her, since she was still in her support brace after fracturing her ankle, and she had to keep it propped up when she wasn’t at school. She needed her sassy friend to give her a kick in the rear to keep her focused.

“Girl, you can do this. Go get that part.”

“I’m not even dying for the part. I just want to be in the play, one way or the other. I want to have fun with it. Worst case scenario, I can make the costumes or run the bake sale.”

“That’s ridiculous. You can dance. You’re a cheerleader. You’re not exactly shy, woman. Show ‘em what you’ve got.”

“Wish you were here.”

“You’ll get by. Call me when you’ve got the part.”

“Brat.”

“You love me,” Nancy reminded her.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Bye, girl.”

“See ya.” Betty sighed at her reflection one more time and wished away the knots in her stomach. She returned to the noise of the auditorium, and she noticed that several people left after they finished their solos and leaving behind their information. Reggie, Ronnie and Archie were still chatting by the edge of the stage until Miss Grundy shushed them to let Brigitte sing. Several bars into the song, everyone sat silent and slack-jawed as she knocked it out of the park, inflections and phrasing perfect, her clear soprano soaring all the way to the back of the theater.

“No way,” Cheryl muttered under her breath.

“Wow,” Reggie murmured. “Who knew?”

“She rocks,” Jughead added.

“Well, I’m done,” Ethel decided, but she wasn’t sorry. She enjoyed hanging out with Brigitte, and she had to be happy for her, since this was an excellent opportunity for her to get out there and be noticed. Brigitte sang to the audience, not just the judges, and her stage presence was polished and practiced. When she sang, she wasn’t just a dumpy sixteen-year-old in Lane Bryant jeans. She felt special, beautiful and sophisticated, and this was her world. The crowd broke out in a smattering of applause, giving her whistles and cat calls.

“That was fantastic, Brigitte. Thank you.” She nodded and rushed down from the stage, dashing past her friends.

“What’s wrong?” Betty called after her softly.

“I’m gonna throw up,” she admitted.

“Eek,” Ethel cringed.

“I can’t even follow that,” Betty sighed.

“Why? You next?” Archie inquired with interest.

“Yup.”

“You’ll be fine,” he assured her, bumping her playfully. She bumped him back and caught a brief frown from Ron. Betty moved away from him quickly, but she felt his eyes on her back as she climbed up to the stage and took a sheet of music from the folding chair. Betty was grateful that she’d had a sip of water, because her mouth suddenly dried up. Roughly four dozen pairs of eyes pinned her, and she felt completely naked.

“Are you ready?”

“Sure.”

“Go ahead.” Betty scanned the sheet music and mentally coached herself on the notes, how each would sound coming from her throat. She hadn’t sung onstage since sixth grade during the Riverdale Elementary holiday pageant, but singing in the back row of a choir of fifty kids and doing a mean rendition of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” didn’t really count, did it?

She knew she’d regret this.

Miss Haggly played the piano, smiling encouragement and mouthing the words to herself as Betty began. “Summer lovin’, happened so fast…” To her own ears, her voice sounded girlish, almost childish, and slightly unsteady. She caught Veronica’s eye and her bestie smiled, but to her alarm, Reggie was smirking, and Archie watched her with a hint of what looked like concern. She tried to concentrate on the music, attempting to stay in the right register, not taxing her voice past its natural range.

“Met a boy, cute as can be…” In the back of her mind, Betty told herself that she could do this. The song was what, a mere two minutes of her life? To her relief, no one was cringing like they did for Cheryl’s performance, but no one looked as impressed as they had with Brigitte, either. But overall, Miss Grundy was nodding and she noticed Mr. Flutesnoot tapping his pencil to the rhythm of the melody. That was encouraging, wasn’t it?

Reggie caught her eye, and he yawned with emphasis. The gesture pissed her off, and she felt her cheeks flush. He was bored with her performance? She knew he’d make her mess up, the jerk!

What would Nancy do? she wondered.

Go on, girl. Get that part. Nancy’s previous lectures stuck with her, pep talks that occasionally made her feel like she was five years old, but she usually knew what she was talking about. Reggie’s eyes still burned into hers, and he silently mouthed the words, You suck.

Her voice rose in volume, and her phrasing became sharper as the song continued, and Betty’s hips swayed to the music without realizing it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Miss Haggly grinning over the piano keys. She couldn’t help reacting to him, wanting in some way to prove something to him, even though he was the last person in the world whose opinion she could give a damn about.

Yet she did. She always had. It made no sense. Reggie always got to her. She wondered when it would stop. What could she even do to get him out of her hair and off her mind?

Reggie’s smug face hid his surprise. She wasn’t bad to begin with, definitely not Britney Spears, but he’d heard worse. But she got better when he pissed her off. That amused him, certainly, but that also flattered him that she focused on him, even when she was trying to concentrate on the audition. When she started the song, for those first few bars, she sounded unsure, and there was a vulnerability in her face and slightly closed posture, but she was gaining confidence with each line, as though the song was growing on her, like she believed in it.

He pictured her in the back of his mind in the fifties clothes and her hair in her customary ponytail; the image pleased him. But he squelched it, schooling himself to look bored. She didn’t like that, if the way she narrowed her eyes his way was any clue. She finished the song on a whole note that she held without faltering, nailing the crescendo.

Betty set down the sheet music, noticing her fingers left sweaty impression on the paper. She rushed down from the stage as soon as Miss Grundy thanked her, and she made a beeline for her backpack. Veronica caught up to her and gave her arm a little squeeze.

“What was that? You totally started out sounding all nervous, but then you tore it up!”

“I don’t know. But now I know why Brigitte felt sick. I thought I was gonna die up there.” She held out her hands. “My palms are all sweaty.”

A few random, slow, hollow-sounding claps interrupted them, and Betty turned to see Reggie giving her deadpan applause. “I was moved,” he told her slyly.

“Move that way,” she suggested, annoyed.

“Sorry. Can’t. I’m up next.” He headed for the stage and threw back, “Take a load off and take notes, Cooper.”

“What an obnoxious bastard,” Betty hissed under her breath.

“Looked like he was enjoying himself when you were up there,” Veronica pointed out.

“He was acting like I was putting him to sleep.”

“Not from where I was standing.”

“Ignore him, Bets,” Archie interjected. “You were great up there.”

“I was nervous,” she mentioned, keeping her voice low when Miss Grundy gave them a warning look to quiet down. Reggie took the sheet music and set it on the easel, and he gestured to Miss Haggly to play, not waiting for Miss Grundy to give the direction. His stance broadened and Reggie threw out his chest, and the sound that came out of his mouth stopped whatever thoughts that ran through Betty’s mind.

“We'll get some overhead lifters, and four barrel quads, oh yeah

Keep talkin', whoa keep talkin'!

Fuel injection cut off, and chrome plated rods, oh yeah,

I'll get the money, I'll see you get the money…”

“Whoa,” Ethel whispered.

“Wow,” Jug agreed.

“He can sing?” Veronica wondered. “Where’s he been keeping that?” Betty had no answer for her. Suddenly she felt inferior in comparison, watching him throwing confidence and swagger at them all as he nailed it, channeling Danny and giving Travolta a run for his money. His voice was a baritone, and he made it sound like a rough whine when the song needed it.

“Football got in the way of him going out for repertory singers this year,” Archie said with a shrug. “He couldn’t make the rehearsals. Mr. Flutesnoot was hoping he’d change his mind.”

“That’s not fair. Tell me he’s not totally killing that song up there,” Brigitte tsked when she returned to their little group.

“I’d be lying,” Betty admitted. “He’s good.”

“He’s great,” Ethel carped sourly.

“Guess we know who’s got the lead.”

“He still has to be able to act,” Archie pointed out.

“Are you kidding? The part was practically made for him,” Veronica argued. “Can you see him up there in leather, dancing on top of a car?”

“Yup,” Betty and Brigitte said in unison.

Betty couldn’t stop watching him, which frustrated and fascinated her. His voice was versatile, and he really got into the role.

“You are supreme,

The chicks’ll cream

For GREASED LIGHTNING!”

“I may just faint,” Ethel murmured. She wanted to keep hating him, but he was just too good. His snug tee shirt strained across his taut chest as he kept belting out the song. He sang through his diaphragm like he was supposed to, and he had enviably tight abs. Betty felt even more annoyed with herself that she couldn’t stop staring at those, either. He caught her eye, and his eyes gleamed with smugness, once again seeming to be at her expense.

Reggie was showing off for her, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself. It felt good to strut his stuff, and he could tell she was still miffed at him for ruffling her feathers, but at the same time, she liked what she saw. Reggie mimed an imaginary microphone and dropped to one knee with a flourish. Veronica, Ethel, Midge and Brigitte pretended to swoon over his performance, but he could tell they were impressed.

So was the little ticked off blonde, even if she wouldn’t admit it. He saw her fighting a smile, but she gave up the battle when he reached the last verse:

“With new pistons, plugs, and shocks,

I can get off my rocks

You know that I ain't braggin', she's a real pussy wagon –

greased lightnin'!”

“Wow,” Ethel said again. “I might have to revise my opinion of that guy. Somebody sign him up for Glee.”

“Maybe he can play a boyfriend for Kurt,” Brigitte suggested, making all of them crack up.

“That was so good,” Veronica muttered. “Huh, Betty? Who knew?”

“Who knew,” she repeated blandly. The crowd applauded him loudly and Grundy and Flutesnoot rolled their eyes as they made notes on their clipboards. She watched him leave the stage with a swagger in his step, and his eyes lit up when he caught her watching him.

“Guess I didn’t shine as bright as you did,” he offered. His smile was lopsided. Was he expecting praise?

“Whatever, Reg,” she shrugged. She turned away from him and told Veronica, “I’m out. Call me later.”

“What the hell?” Reggie said under his breath as he watched her abandon him. “That’s the thanks I get?”

“You’re full of shit,” Archie commented, “and she knows it.”

“Who asked you?”

“You did.”

“Fuck off,” Reggie snarled, catching Carrot-Top’s bland look. And who was Arch to call him full of shit? Look who was talking! Reggie stalked after Betty as she exited the auditorium and caught up to her in the hall.

“All I get is ‘Whatever?’”

“I’m sorry, did you mistake me for a member of your fan club?”

“That’s not nice,” he accused, looking wounded.

“Whatever. You were good.”

“Just ‘good?’” he mocked. “You’re a tough critic.”

“I didn’t yawn through it, like some people I could name.” He followed her outside as she made her way to the courtyard.

“I was just messing with you. C’mon, Bets, you were decent up there.”

“You’re too kind,” she replied with a simpering look.

“Well… you were.” Reggie scratched behind his ear as they made their way to her tiny white coupe.

“Thanks, I guess.” She keyed her way in and stared at him. “What?”

“I can’t talk to you?”

“If you want,” she told him, shrugging again. “I’m taking off, unless you had anything you wanted to share.”

“What’s up with you and Jay?” She met his scowl with her own.

“Not that again…”

“Betty, he’s not cool.”

“Let me find that out for myself and make up my own mind. What’s it matter to you, Reg? You can’t figure out why he would like me?”

“No,” Reggie blurted out, and then he wanted to kick himself. That didn’t come out the way he meant for it to.

“Nice,” Betty grumbled as she threw her backpack into the rear.

“I can’t figure out what you like about him,” Reggie corrected.

“Why? He’s cute. Smart. Good at sports. What’s not to like?”

“He’s got cash. Don’t forget that,” Reggie added.

“I don’t need reminding about that. I don’t care about that.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“Reg, that’s bullshit. Don’t come after me and tell me I want him for his money!”

“Then you do want him?” Reggie made a sour face, and Betty almost wanted to laugh.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Bets… just… don’t get your hopes up about that guy.”

“It’s a date. It’s no big deal. He likes me.”

“So?”

“That’s a good reason to go on a date with somebody most of the time,” she said as though he were a small child.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Lots of guys like you, Bets, and you don’t give all of them the time of day.”

“I guess you know something I don’t, then. No one’s knocking down my door,” she mused as she leaned against the hood of her car and folded her arms. He felt a hint of guilt at her words, but Reggie pushed it down.

Her face was impatient, which made her cute in his opinion.

“Then pay attention once in a while. But don’t waste your time on Blossom.” As she opened her mouth, he added “Or Archie.”

“What the hell? Why are you bringing Archie into this? Is this Stick My Nose into Betty’s Business Day? And why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“You still like him.”

“Butt out,” she snapped, blue eyes burning into him.

“He’s playing games, too, Bets, even though you think he’s so sweet and innocent.”

“I never said I thought he was ‘innocent,’” she told him, making quotes with her fingers.

“You’ve got a thing for redheads.”

“Again, Reg, ‘Big deal.’” She sighed. “And you like brunettes, especially the ones who make you work for it, or the ones you can’t have.”

“Like who? Dolores didn’t make me work for it!”

“I meant Midge and Veronica.” He sputtered and scowled at her, waving his hand dismissively.

“Ridiculous. Uh-uh. You think I want either of those two?”

“You like them. I’ve seen you around them both.”

“Ron and I are friends,” he told her.

“You show off around her all the time, even though she likes Archie.”

“Then what’s your excuse?” he shot back, feeling his face flame with frustration. His tone was indignant. “You do the same thing.”

“Leave me alone, Reggie,” she ordered coldly. “Go. Get away from my car.” She climbed in and slammed her door, making him jump back slightly, but he reached for the edge of the window frame and leaned down.

“Betty, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Yes you did.” Her eyes were blazing, and he could tell that he pricked a sore spot. “I’ll see you tomorrow at rehearsals.” She turned the ignition, and only when her engine hummed to life did he back off. “Bye.”

“Yeah.” He waved as she left, and he felt like an ass.

*

The next day of tryouts followed a restless day of fidgeting in her seat and Betty’s margins growing crowded with doodles of possible costume ideas that involved poodle skirts and satin jackets. What Reggie had said rankled and she wanted to prove him wrong, somehow, or at least shut his mouth. As if he read her thoughts, Jason materialized at her side as she put away her geometry book.

“You look deep in thought,” he murmured in her ear. His breath tickled and she chuckled as she faced him.

“It’s nerves. More auditions today.”

“I bet you did fine,” he offered.

“You didn’t see me up there. I was scared out of my mind.”

“Cheryl wouldn’t tell me how you did when I asked. She was all like ‘Eh. Whatever.’”

“Nice.” Betty grinned.

“What movie do you want to see?”

“I’m not picky.”

“No chick flicks.”

“I’m fine with that.” She grinned up at him. “Not into mushy romance?”

“Not unless I’m involved in it.” He leaned forward and noogied her shoulder with his chin. The close contact and ticklish gesture gave her shivers, and she smelled his cologne. She batted him away, but he was grinning at her.

“I’m fine with an action movie, if you want.”

“How about a scary movie?”

“I like old ones. All the new ones have too much CGI. They look more fake now than the ones.”

“You mean the ones with cables and corn syrup?”

“Yup. I love the old-fashioned ones like Halloween or Carrie.”

“Wow. Those are pretty cheesy.”

“They’re fun to go back and watch now. They scared the heck out of me when I was a kid.”

“Who knew? I wouldn’t have figured you for liking those,” Jason told her.

“I’m full of surprises.”

“I know that.” He palmed the small of her back as she moved away from her locker and back into the tide of people headed to class. The gesture was possessive and relatively quick in regard to how long she’d been accepting his attentions. She noticed a few girls glancing at them and eyeing her with envy.

“What are you doing today?”

“Baseball practice.”

“Cool.”

“I’m pitching this season.”

“Even better. Reg pitched last year. We had a pretty good season.”

“Reggie? Pfft… he sucks. I can strike him out any day of the week.”

“Tell him that. He’s good.” Betty felt confused for a moment, and she wondered why she was defending Reggie Mantle.

“Are you in his fan club?” Jason challenged.

“God, no,” she protested. “I’m no sheep.”

“Good. Bets?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to sound like a dick, but what’s with you and Andrews?”

“What about Archie?” She felt a sense of déjà vu. Hadn’t she just had this conversation with Reggie? And wasn’t it none of his business, either?

“I dunno. I thought you liked him.”

“He’s a friend.”

“A good friend?”

“He doesn’t like me like that.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Betty had a bitter epiphany.

He didn’t, did he?

It stunned her. But it was true. As much as she tried to impress him, he hardly knew she was alive. Archie liked Veronica best. It didn’t matter how much Betty praised him or admired him, how many of his games she watched or how loudly she cheered his name, lent him a pencil or let him copy her French homework, lent him a dollar for a soda or offered him a ride when his car was in the shop, she was left on the shelf every time. She was “just a friend.”

Suddenly her date with Jason Blossom was even more appealing; she needed someone to take her mind off of Archie Andrews. Maybe her motives were less than noble, but she liked Jay.

“Bets?”

“Huh?”

“You left me for a minute there.” Jason rubbed his nape and stared at her.

“Sorry.”

“So you’re not into him?”

“I’m not his type,” she insisted with a shrug.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“There’s nothing between us,” she told him.

“You stare at him all the time.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Looks like it.”

“And I don’t stare at you?”

“I like it when you do,” he agreed, and his smile returned.

“Call me,” she told him, and she gave him a hug that took him slightly off-guard. It was too short, and he felt bereft when she pulled away.

“I will when I get home.”

“I have tryouts today.”

“Break a leg.”

*

“When she heard it pop and saw the blood…” Ethel made a gagging face, and the crowd gathered in the auditorium laughed. “She threw up in the bathtub.” Her helpless expression was priceless.

“Nice job, Ethel,” Miss Grundy told her. “Okay. Let’s run another scene between Sandy and Danny. For Sandy, I want Betty Cooper, and Reggie Mantle, you read Danny.”

Betty’s stomach sank. Great. Just great. She reluctantly took the script book from her English teacher. “Page ten, Betty.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t want to meet Reggie’s eyes onstage, but he was polite enough to keep a few feet between them at first.

“Move in a little closer. Remember, you like each other in this part, for the moment,” Flutesnoot chuckled.

“Go ahead, Betty,” Miss Grundy told her.

Betty cleared her throat and mulled over the lines for a moment before throwing herself into the scene. “Danny?” Reggie changed before her eyes, getting into character quickly. He pretended to straighten his collar, and his expression became smug and detached.

 “That's my name, don't wear it out.” There it was, a slightly accented inflection in his voice; he sounded like a Brooklyn boy instead of a midwesterner.

“What's the matter with you?” Betty demanded as “Sandy.” She tried to channel how she’d feel if a boy she liked was yanking her chain. She had a lot of personal experience to draw from, she mused…

“What's the matter with me, baby, what's the matter with you?” He turned his body away from her slightly, and she chased after him, tsking in disgust.

“What happened to the Danny Zuko I met at the beach?” Betty raised her voice, and Reggie threw her a disdainful look.

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe there's two of us. Why don't you take out a missing person's ad? Or try the yellow pages, I don't know.”

“You're a fake and a phony and I wish I never laid eyes on you!” Betty stomped off indignantly until Miss Grundy called scene.

“Very nice. You two work well together.” Miss Grundy called up the next two students, and Betty escaped the stage with more butterflies in her stomach. She felt exhilarated that it was over with for the moment.

“Betty, that was good,” Ethel assured her.

“I was so nervous up there.”

“Get over it. You did fine. Think of how cool it would be if you got the part!”

“She was okay,” Reggie cut in. She didn’t rise to the bait.

“Thanks. I’ll try to keep up.”

They ran a few more scenes, and Miss Grundy paired them up again for the drive-in scene, which required them to sit next to each other on two folding chairs. It was awkward being that close to him, and she had to resist the urge to lean away. Her voice sounded unsteady to her own ears, and she raised it slightly to suit the mood:

“No, Danny!” Betty pretended to shove him away, and Reggie leered at her.

“Sandy, don't worry about it, nobody's watching.”

“Danny, get off me!” she insisted. Betty’s cheeks flushed when Reggie grabbed her arm.

“Come on, Sandy, what's the matter with you? I thought I meant something to you!” His voice sounded put-upon, a cajoling whine, and she felt his pulse in his grip. Betty’s heart hammered.

“Meant something to you! You think I'm going to stay here with you in this? This sin wagon? You can take this piece of tin!” Betty mimed throwing away the ring on her finger and she walked away from him again.

“Sandy, you just can't walk out of a drive-in!” The line evoked the laughter it was supposed to, and Reggie almost looked pitiful calling after her. Miss Grundy was chuckling while Mr. Flutesnoot made notes.

“We’ve got our Danny,” he murmured.

“What do you think of Betty?”

“Needs a little vocal coaching, but we can work with her,” he considered. “They’re funny.”

“Nice chemistry there.”

“He’s a little cocky.”

“We’ll work around that. I have the feeling she won’t let him get away with much.”

“Thank you,” Miss Grundy told them both. Betty and Veronica huddled down in their seats and shared a pack of gum.

“I want to be Rizzo so bad,” Veronica said. “She’s awesome.”

“You’d be a good fit as Marty,” Betty pointed out.

“True. But she doesn’t have any good songs.”

“That’s not such a bad thing,” Betty encouraged, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Singing wasn’t Veronica’s strong suit, but she was a decent actress and she loved exaggerating and hamming it up.

“Where’s Arch?”

“He’s at band practice. I’m meeting him later.”

“It would have been nice if he’d shown up to watch us,” Betty remarked.

“Why? So you can show off?” Veronica sounded indignant. “What’s with you, Betty?”

“Nothing. What’s your deal? Why do you sound pissed with me?”

“I just feel like you’re awfully buddy-buddy with him lately.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It is a big deal.”

“I just wondered where he was, Ron. Chill out.”

“Then why are you always flirting with Archie?”

“I’m not!”

“You shouldn’t be, anyway. I thought you liked Jason.”

“I do, more or less,” Betty hissed, trying to shush them.

“More or less?” Ethel barged in. “That’s not how you’re supposed to feel with a guy who’s taking you out to the movies.”

“I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.” At least not in the middle of the auditorium.

“I wouldn’t make a big deal out of a date with that loser, either,” Veronica sniffed.

“Ron, shut up.”

“Why? Why should I? I still don’t get why you’re giving him the time of day.”

“Why don’t you like him, really?”

“I know Jay, and he’s a jerk. You can do better than that.”

“That’s what Reggie said,” Betty complained. “Both of you can leave me alone.”

“What’d I do? How did I become the jerk?” Reggie demanded as he came up by Betty’s elbow again, taking the seat beside her without permission. He swallowed up all of her space, and she smelled his cologne again and felt the heat radiating from his body. Her cheeks turned pink, something she hated.

“You two can commiserate together,” Betty sighed. “I’m leaving. Please move.” She skirted around Reggie’s knees awkwardly, flinching over the brief contact with him again.

“What was that all about?”

“Her date. Yuck.” Veronica made a face.

“No shit.” Reggie sighed. “I can’t stand that guy.”

“He’s not who she thinks he is,” she told him.

“I know that. My locker’s in the same row as his.”

“I went on a date with him once,” Veronica confessed. Reggie did a double-take.

“Wait. What?”

“It was a long time ago.” Her voice dropped down to a whisper when Miss Grundy turned around at the sound of chatter. “It was back when my parents wanted to send me to Pembroke.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Big mistake.”

“What happened?”

“He was a snake. He took me to a party with all of his friends. They were horrid to me. They called me a townie and a wannabe. And I’m not a wannabe, Reggie. No way. And all he did was laugh. He acted like it was fine, and like I was just being a crybaby.”

“Did he make you cry?” Veronica scowled.

“Yes,” she said in a small voice. “He was so nice when he asked me out. He was always giving me compliments and making a fuss over me.”

“That sucks.”

“And I hate his sister. She’s worse than he is.”

“Cheryl’s no prize,” Reggie grumbled. The redheaded bombshell had a huge ego, and she seldom let anyone get a word in edgewise. Reggie hated girls like that, because they didn’t give him a chance to shine.

“She keeps going after Archie,” Veronica told him sourly. “She needs to back off.”

“Arch needs to stop acting like he’s enjoying it,” Reggie argued.

“He doesn’t like her!” Veronica insisted, irritated.

“He doesn’t exactly hate her.”

“What have you heard?”

“It’s not what I’ve heard. She’s always all over him.”

“I’m gonna kick her ass.” The mental image of two pretty girls having a catfight appealed to him, but Reggie cleared it from his mind.

“He’s not worth it.”

“Don’t say that.” She sounded defensive, and Reggie could tell he’d gone too far.

“Carrot-Top’s no prize, either.”

“I’m a better judge of that than you.”

And there was the problem, Reggie mused. All three girls thought Archie was a prize to be won, and that was how he kept them coming back.