Stolen Flowers for Stolen Lives

   Betty opened her front door, expecting things to be missing again. The flowers she planted in early spring never lasted through mid-June. Someone kept stealing them and taking them God-knows-where. She wanted the culprit caught and punished. They were stealing property that belonged to Betty Cooper. She worked so hard to plant the lilies, carnations, and especially the white roses which took her 3 years to germinate. And yet some low-life continued to pull them out from the ground like common weeds.
   Betty had narrowed down the time in which the thief would come. It was the 3rd Friday of every month between 8 at night and 4 in the morning. From about the time of dusk to dawn. Where he would be less likely to be seen.
But who would commit such a petty crime? Was it just for kicks? Or some kid at school who thought he was just funny? It puzzled Betty. And yet she continued on with her gardening. Picking weeds and grass out from the flower bed. Keeping the bed as neat and as organized as she was. Although she was simultaneously thinking of a plan to catch the blossom burglar. It was the 3rd Friday of the month after all.
   So Betty set up her little scheme and she planned to plant the cheap, fake roses in her bed. Hoping that the bandit would fall for the trap and take the bait. Then she would pop out from the side of the house and take a photo of them to catch them in the act. So that not only would she get the bad guy, but she would still have her flowers. Betty immediately went to closest home-improvement store and bought fake white roses to plant in her garden.

   The three flowers were in position and so was Betty when the culprit arrived. It was about 11:00 at night when they came. The bandit slowly crept down the sidewalk, hands in their pockets with a hat on that kept a shadow on their face, making it impossible for Betty to figure out who it was. The lamppost next to the street began illuminating the person's figure as they snuck up, often glancing behind them as if they were scared of someone following them. The person slowly crept up towards the flower bed in the front of Betty Cooper's house and crouched down running their dirty grubby hands all over Betty's flowers.
   At that moment the lamppost yellowish light hit the flower thief's face perfectly and Betty recognized them immediately.
It was Jughead Jones. Riverdale High School's very own Jughead Jones. He was the weirdo that isolated himself from everyone. Always on his computer, never talking to anyone. If he wasn't at school, he was always at Pop's Chock-lit Shoppe. The local diner that was a honing device to all the high school students after school and during the summer. Jughead was always in the corner booth, only ordering cups of coffee and typing away on his computer. Not even speaking to waiters or waitresses. Just nodding his head and tapping his fingers on the table when he couldn't think of a good sentence composition to type. Never speaking a word and never having to.
   Betty had seen him at Pop's occasionally when she went. Only catching his eyes for half a second before he would glance back down towards his computer screen.
   The only other times she saw Jughead was in biology class. But they were never partners or even spoke. They never had a reason to speak. He sat in the back of the room and Betty sat in the first row right in front of the teacher's desk.
But this revelation confused Betty. She never expected this and she wanted to find out why Jughead was stealing her flowers, so she followed him.
Jughead had taken the flowers, the fake ones that was, and began heading towards the railroad tracks. Towards the South Side. Still questioning Jughead's theft, Betty pursued him.
Jughead had one hand in his pocket, and the other was filled with a fistful of crumpled fake white roses. He had earbuds dangling from his ears and they trailed down his jacket towards his pocket. Jug's hat was pulled down lower than normal and he walked with his head down towards the sidewalk.
As they approached the tracks that separated Riverdale from the South Side, Betty began to feel guilty. Like she had committed a crime by following Jughead. The tugging sensation in her stomach told her she wasn't supposed to be doing this. And yet she trudged on, walking across the train tracks 15 feet behind Jughead, making as little noise as possible. Not sure whether her stalking was a smart decision, yet she continued on.
Jughead glanced behind him quickly and Betty ducked behind a nearby oak tree. She held her breath hoping Jughead hadn't seen her. She peeked her head around the side of the tree hoping he had left. Jughead had continued on down the sidewalk, facing away from Betty again.
For one millisecond Betty considered turning back and heading home, and yet she silently trailed after Jughead Jones. Still wondering why he was stealing her white roses. Was he giving them to his girlfriend? His mom as a thank you? What brought him to steal from her every month?
Jughead took a sharp right and Betty nearly missed it. The night sky had nearly no moon and the stars were non-existent. Had it not been for the lights of the nearby homes Betty never would seen him take that corner.
It was the busiest street in the old broken-down city. Everyone drove on it, or if they couldn't drive they would most definitely walk it. Even at the late hour cars still buzzed past Jughead and Betty. The noise covering Betty's footsteps. The concrete wall to the right of Betty grew taller and taller as she went underneath the overpass, but she still walked the broken, deteriorated sidewalk, a sidewalk obviously walked over a million times by thousands of people.
   As the wall slanted upward above her head. Betty ran her hand along the concrete, feeling the cold and rough concrete mixture. The sensations reminded her a lot of Jughead's mannerisms. He too was cold. Never bothering to speak to anyone unless completely necessary. Jughead was rough around the edges. He had little to no friends. He had a hard time at school. Hell, Betty wasn't even sure if he had a job. Where did he live?
The farther she went the more she felt like this wasn't her business. Betty didn't much care that Jughead was stealing from her now.
Just as she considered turning back Jughead crossed the busy street and ran towards the South Side Park. Giving in to her curiosity she too ran across the noisy road, hoping not to lose sight of Jughead. She wanted her original question answered. Why would Jughead Jones the Third ever steal from her flower garden?
When she reached the other side of the busy underpass she looked at the park sign. It hung limply on weak, rusted chains. It was uneven and tilted towards the left side but the sign itself was still somewhat readable. In bulky white lettering it spelled out; "South Side Recreational Park and Cemetery." Edges of the lettering had begun peeling off and some stupid South Side High students decided to draw dicks on the corners of the sign but it still did it's job. Informing people what the plot of land was for.
Jughead turned to his right and walked down the tiny dirt path in front of him. His head was tilted down towards the ground. He ripped the earbuds out of his ears and turned off the music coming from his phone.
Jughead continued to saunter down the path, and Betty knew what she had gotten herself into. Jughead was going to a grave. He stole her flowers to give to someone he had lost.
Finally, after what felt like years for Betty, Jughead stopped in front a tiny headstone. Betty hid behind a nearby elm tree. The wide trunk hiding her from Jughead. Betty still glanced around the tree. She was compelled to watch Jughead. This mystery had been solved, but it didn't satisfied Betty. Why was Jughead here? Who was he visiting?
"You can stop hiding from me," Jughead said out loud, still turned away from Betty. She reluctantly stepped out from behind the tree. The guilty feeling of stalking Jughead was now washing over her.
"How did you know I was here?" Betty asked.
"You have obnoxiously loud footsteps. You should definitely work on that if you plan to stalk people for a living," Jughead said sardonically but it didn't make Betty feel any less guilty.
   "I'm sorry for following you. I just wanted to know why you would continue to steal my flowers," she paused awkwardly. "I'll just head home. I'm sorry Jughead," and with that Betty turned around to begin heading back towards the entrance. But something grabbed Betty's hand and she was jerked back towards Jughead. They were centimeters apart, face to face. Betty and Jughead were breathing the same air.
   "Do you want to know why I'm here?" Jughead whispered to her. She nodded her head, not wanting to speak when she was so close to him.
   Jughead led her over to the gravestone. Engraved into the stone it said "Forsythe Pendleton Jones II". Jughead's dad. He was dead. Betty glanced up at him, sympathy and compassion blending together to create a new emotion that Betty hadn't felt in a very long time. Jughead held his head down and he wouldn't meet Betty's eyes.
   "My mother and sister are to the left of my dad," Jughead said cooly. He tilted his head towards the left, motioning towards two more graves that held the same date as FP's. One year ago. His family died one year ago and that was why he stole from her flower bed. She turned towards Jughead.
   "I'm so sorry, Jughead," tears began to form in Betty's eyes. She swung her arms around Jughead's neck to pull him into a hug. He slowly began to place his arms around her waist to complete the hug. His head was turned away from her ear but she could still hear him sniffling. Betty knew he was on-the-verge of crying. She pulled him closer and ran her hands in circular motions on his back attempting to console him.
   "They died in a car accident," he whispered. "A drunk driver. Head-on collision. My mom and my sister Jellybean were coming to Riverdale to visit me from Toledo. I hadn't seen them in years. My dad was driving them down here so we could catch up. They were at a stop light and a drunk driver ran straight into them. I couldn't do anything," Jughead burst into tears.
   "It wasn't your fault Jughead."
   "But I couldn't...I didn't do anything Betty," he turned towards her. She quickly wondered how he knew her name, but didn't question it for long.
   "Jughead, I don't care that you steal my flowers. They go to a better cause here than in my garden." She took the white roses out of his tight grasp and spread them out evenly. One on each grave. The slightly bent stems showing endearment of some sort.
   "I'm sorry Betty. You weren't meant to get caught up in this. I was going to try and lose you back there but I guess I underestimated your ability to track someone," Jughead told her.
   "When did you know I was following you?" Betty asked.
   "Your fake plastic flowers were very obvious from the start. If you're going to try and catch a thief in the act at least try to make it somewhat convincing," He responded attempting to smile.
   Betty looked at her watch. It was almost 12:00. She had to get home or her mother would kill her!
   "Uhh, sorry Jughead. I have to go, I'm past curfew and my mom's going to kill me."
    "I don't like to be here for too long. Let me walk you home. Especially since I unintentionally brought you all the way across the tracks. I know a shortcut anyway."
   "Sure, lead the way Jughead," Betty said and she grabbed Jughead's hand in her's and gave him a smile. He smiled back.
   As they left the cemetery, she made one final sad glance back at the Pendleton's grave stones before she and Jughead went back to Riverdale.