Notes:
I will be changing my username on here at some point in the near future so heads up for that!
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"Wait, you want to do what?" Jughead was baffled. He couldn't believe any version of Cheryl would propose such an outlandish idea.
The redhead scoffed, "Did the lice from that beanie crawl into your ears and distort your hearing?"
"Oh. Well that wasn't hurtful at all, Cher."
She rolled her eyes, "Whatever. Are you in or not?"
"You're wanting to rob Northsiders? Sorry for not immediately jumping on board with this harebrained scheme."
"It's not like I haven't done it before. Plus, if we are smart about this we will only need to break in to one Northside house, and I happen to know exactly which one," Cheryl replied smugly.
"That makes it better," he huffed.
"Do you want to hear the plan or not?"
Jughead shook his head and exhaled deeply through his nose. "Fine, let's hear it. What do you have in mind, Blossom?"
"We're breaking into Thornhill."
"And what the hell is a Thornhill?"
"Of course it wouldn't be called that." Cheryl sighed and ran her hand through her red hair. "Why would it be? It was probably named that by the Blossoms, and here we are... well," she motioned around the room and pursed her lips, "this."
"This isn't so bad. You've got your own room," he shrugged. "I sleep on the pullout in the living room."
"It's a substantial downgrade from the lifestyle I am accustomed to, let me assure you. I'm not trying to be rich. I'm simply trying to obtain enough capital to purchase a replacement hot water heater and a few comforts I'm currently forced to live without," Cheryl explained.
"By robbing your old house," he replied deadpan.
"What? It's not like I'm planning on burning it down again," she retorted, obviously annoyed at his reservations.
Jughead squinted and stared at her for a moment before speaking. "Again?"
"Trust me, Jughead, I'm full of surprises."
"Why do you do that?" he asked.
Cheryl tilted her head, clearly perplexed by his question, "Do what? Burn down houses? It was only the one."
"Circle back to that, but I was referring to the whole name thing. It occurred to me you've never called me Jug once. It's always Jughead or Jones with you. I mean, I'm thankful you haven't pulled out Forsythe on me; don't get me wrong."
She gave a weak smile, "I don't know. We never were really close enough for nicknames. Honestly, it's been a constant effort to not call you Hobo."
"Hobo?" Jughead laughed. "Is that what I am to you? Some sort of homeless vagrant?"
"In my defense, I'm pretty sure you were homeless for a while. I distinctly remember catching you sleeping in the janitor's closet one morning when I came in for an early Vixens practice."
"Early Vixens practice," he echoed. "The idea of you as a cheerleader..."
"Head cheerleader," Cheryl quickly corrected.
The boy rolled his eyes. "My mistake. I mean, I can see the sass, but where's the pep? Where's the energy? Aren't those requirements for cheerleading? You know... actually having cheer?"
"You are really lucky you're my only friend here, Jones." The use of his last name caused Jughead to tilt his head and raise an eyebrow at her. "Right... Jug... I'll try, okay?"
"You said it yourself. We're friends, and we're in this together."
A smile grew upon Cheryl's lips, "So... does that mean you're in?"
"I want to be, Cher. Fuck, I don't want you doing this alone! What if something happens and I'm not there? But I can't go breaking into Northsider homes representing the Serpents. My dad would kill me if I brought heat down on us."
"So take off your Jacket?" She looked upon him in confusion, not understanding how the boy couldn't think of something so obvious, before she fully registered what he said. "Wait, you aren't the Serpent King? Your dad is still in charge?"
"Why the hell would I be in charge of the Serpents? I'm still in high school," he chortled. "You honestly think I'm qualified to lead a gang? What the hell kind of world are you from anyways?"
"One with hot water," she quipped.
Jughead sighed, "You're really going to do this?"
"I am."
"Then I guess I'm coming with you, but you better have a plan because if we get caught -'"
"We won't," she cut him off mid sentence. "I swear. I know the grounds like the back of my hand. JJ and I snuck in and out countless times in our youth."
"Fine," he conceded. "Let's break into Cornhill."
"Thornhill," Cheryl corrected, her face screwed in disgust. "Why would a house be named after a vegetable?"
"Why would it be named after part of a plant?"
"Flowers are beautiful and their thorns are necessary to protect themselves from animals who wish to devour them," the redhead argued.
"Are we really arguing about flowers?" The pair broke out in laughter for a moment before Jughead asked, "So when are we doing this?"
"Tomorrow night, during the town meeting. Everyone should be there."
"But what if they aren't?"
"That's why you'll be the lookout," Cheryl explained. "You can keep watch in case anything diverts from the plan."
Jughead groaned, his expression grim, "I don't know, Cher. A lot of shit could go wrong."
"A lot of shit already is wrong," she protested. "As far as I'm concerned, the world owes me this."
-
The next day seemed to move painstakingly slow for Cheryl. She woke up earlier than normal to use FP and Jughead's shower without putting a wrench in their morning with her intrusion. The pair had driven to school together, as had become routine, and went about the school day as usual.
To Cheryl's relief, she was able to avoid any drama. She used to thrive on chaos, and now she wished to be invisible. The redhead missed her life. She missed being able to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. Now, she had to worry about everything from being able to afford a meal at Pop's to being thrown into a locker by people like Reggie Mantle. That life was impossibly far away, but there were some things she could do to bring a sense of normalcy back to her existence.
It was that need that led Cheryl there, standing in front of her old home in the exact spot she did the night she watched it burn. The sight took her breath away, not from a sense of awe but from the haunted memories embedded in its walls.
"Cher, you ready?" Jughead asked, pulling her from her trance.
She turned to look at him, took a deep breath, and nodded. "There's a root cellar on the side of the house. Unless they closed it up, I can use that to access the kitchen. I don't think Mumsy even knew it was there."
Jughead followed her alongside the house's exterior. "Mumsy?"
"I grew up in an interesting environment," Cheryl exhaled.
He laughed, "Was that environment some classic English novel?"
"I did my fair share of reading growing up, yes. Now, if you're done insulting my vocabulary..." she huffed. When they reached the corner of the house, Cheryl stopped. "From here you should be able to see the front door and down the hill to the gate. Stay here as a lookout, and text me if you see anything?"
"Right," Jughead pulled his phone out of his pocket, held it up, and nodded. "Be careful, okay?"
She gave him a smile and continued on alone. The root cellar door had a padlock, which caused Cheryl a moment's panic before she realized it was unlocked. She slid it out of the metal bracket and swung open the thick wooden door before descending the stairs down into the room. Nostalgia hit her instantly as she looks around the underground space. It looked just as she remembered.
Cheryl climbed the stairs to the kitchen and braced herself. She knew being back at Thornhill would not be a pleasant experience, but at least it would be worth it if she achieved her goal. The redhead turned the handle and opened the door to find a kitchen nothing like the one she remembered. It was bright and welcoming. Whoever lived here had an extremely difference sense of interior design than her family.
She ventured farther into the house and noticed a china cabinet in the hallway between the kitchen and dining room. Cheryl opened the bottom cabinets and selected a few pieces of serving silver. From the way they were stored she had a sense they were the real. She grabbed a few sets of utensils and threw the assortment into the backpack she had worn before making her way into the main part of the house.
Nothing was styled in a way recognizable to Cheryl. It felt homey and warm, a stark contrast to the home she knew growing up. Part of her wondered if she should be doing this. She could tell the people living here were far superior to the likes of Clifford and Penelope Blossom from lack of imminent doom she felt while walking through the halls.
No, whoever they are they need this way less than I do, and I'm not even taking that much. They won't even miss these things. No one needs 24 sets of silverware.
She went upstairs and found one of the bedrooms. A jewelry box sitting in the middle of the dresser caught her eye. Cheryl opened it to find an assortment of expensive looking adornments. Careful not to take too much, not wanting it to appear obvious the box had been looted, she picked out a few bracelets and three pairs of earrings before closing the lid.
Cheryl pulled open one of the drawers and saw rows of designer clutches and small handbags. She grabbed a burgundy Coach clutch and slid it into her own bag just as she heard the front door close.
Why didn't he text me? Stupid hobo isn't good for anything in any reality.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and was greeted with multiple notifications.
Jughead [4:13pm]: Someone's coming! Abort!
Jughead [4:14pm]: Get out of there Cheryl!
4:14pm Missed Call Jughead (2)
Jughead [4:14pm]: Shit they just parked
4:15pm Missed Call Jughead (1)
Jughead [4:15pm]: They're getting out of the car
Jughead [4:16pm]: Get out now!
I left the fucking thing on silent? Stupid, Cheryl!
"Come on, Jay, we're going to be late." The man's voice was raspy and carried through the house.
A feminine voice responded, "Sorry, I told Sierra I'd bring the contract with us."
Cheryl listened to the voices downstairs as panic continued to fill her. Of course nothing could ever go her way. She needed to get out of there in case one of them decided to come upstairs.
"Do we need to pick up the girls?" she heard the man ask who Cheryl assumed was his wife.
"No, they're meeting us there. Come on, you need to sign this too. It's in the kitchen."
Okay kitchen's out. I need a backup plan fast.
Cheryl inched along the upstairs wall and peered down at the entry foyer. Upon seeing the coast was clear, she ran across the upstairs landing towards her old bedroom. She remembered vines growing up that side of the house and inwardly prayed they were still there. They could serve as an escape route for her to climb down.
The room was dark, but she didn't dare flip on a light switch with people in the house. She unlocked her phone and used the backlight for enough illumination to maneuver around. Cheryl ran to the window and unlocked it. Just before climbing out she noticed a ring box sitting on the end table against the wall. She opened it to reveal an ornate white gold band with diamonds and yellow gemstones. The singular item would fetch her a fair amount on its own.
One more for the road.
Quickly, Cheryl shoved the box into her bag before returning to the task at hand. She climbed out onto the ledge, carefully pulling the panels closed behind her. Cheryl cautiously began descend down the vines, which were thankfully still there, and onto the paved ground below.
"Cheryl," she heard Jughead whisper with some force. The redhead turned to see him sneaking along the front of the house to meet up with her. "You scared the hell out of me! Why weren't you answering your phone?"
"It was on silent," she admitted.
He shook his head and squinted, "Unbelievable."
"I know, okay? I'm an idiot. Yell at me later; we need to get out of here now."
-
Jughead pulled up next to Southside Pawn and parked next to the curb in front of the building. The store tucked between a Cash Exchange and a 24/7 laundromat. It looked rundown, a red tin roof with dingy brick walls. Neon letters spelling out "PAWN SHOP" were displayed in the window behind metal bars, which covered every inch of glass.
Cheryl glanced down at the backpack in her lap, having a moment of clarity. "I shouldn't have done this."
"You think about this now?" Jughead stared at her, not believing she was having second thoughts after the job was done. "So... what... you want to break back in to that mansion and return everything?"
She took a deep breath and looked back towards the shop, "No. No, of course not. I did this for a reason, and I'm going to follow through with it."
"You sure?"
"Yes, absolutely. As a... former," the word burned in her throat, "Northsider, I can assure you they need this a lot less than we do. This money will fix the water heater and put some food in the refrigerator. They won't even miss it..."
"Stealing from the rich to give to the poor, which is us in this case, but still applies right? Like a modern day Robin Hood. Wait, would that make me Little John or Friar Tuck?" Jughead laughed to himself. When he realized he was laughing alone, he turned to Cheryl to see her face even paler than usual. "Cher?"
"Toni was the Robin Hood, at least that's what I called her," the redhead lamented. "I... I called her that right before she told me she loved me for the first time." Cheryl paused for a second and looked to Jughead with tears in her eyes before asking, "I know you don't know my Toni, but do you... do you think she'd be proud of me?"
"You're taking care of yourself," he said, placing a comforting hand on her knee. "I think that's exactly what she'd want you to do."
"Thank you, Jughe- Jug," Cheryl corrected herself before giving him a weak smile and exiting the car. She closed the door behind her and turned around to speak to him through the open window, "You wait here. I'll be out in a minute."
Upon receiving a nod in response, Cheryl made her way into the shop. The walls were cluttered with various items for sale, shelves with movies and books, and glass covered counters displaying the more expensive merchandise. Her eyes scanned the room before falling upon a familiar looking person leaning against the far back counter, flipping through a magazine.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
"Buying, selling, or pawning?" Peaches asked without looking up as she flipped another page over.
"Selling," Cheryl answered as she sat her backpack onto the counter and began emptying its contents.
The magazine was closed pushed aside as Peaches began examining the selection before her. "Damn this is some high quality merchandise. Don't see much like this on the Southside."
Cheryl rolled her eyes, "How much?"
"Well, you've got a ring, assorted bracelets, earrings," she continued listing off items as she sorted through them, "real silver, and a designer handbag. For everything here: $850."
"Excuse me?" Cheryl asked, "That ring alone is worth five times as much!"
Peaches leaned against the back wall smugly, "And I'd bet none of this was obtained legally. Which means I'll need to let the heat cool off before I can sell it, and none of our usual customers are going to be buying this kind of stuff."
"Absolutely not," she reached for her bag to begin collecting the items. "I'll go to Greendale if I have to. I'm not letting you of all people take advantage of me."
"Fine, stop, stop," Peaches prompted. "$1,500."
"$4,000," Cheryl countered, straightening her posture.
"$2,000."
"$3,000 and not one penny lower," the redhead spat.
Peaches squinted and stared her down. Cheryl sensed the other girl was sizing her up, "Okay, Red, $3,000 if at least 20% gets spent in store."
"$2,400 cash, $600 store credit? You have a deal."
The other girl sighed, "I'll get this written up. You get to shopping."
Cheryl scoffed and turned around. She leaned up against the glass counter top and let her eyes wander around the small store. Something in the far corner immediately caught her eye.
"Can I see the bow?"
Peaches looked up from her paperwork and followed Cheryl's gaze to the item in question. "Wouldn't take you for the outdoorsy type," she commented as she grabbed the bow, along with a matching quiver.
Cheryl took the bow in her hands to examine it. The quality was nowhere near the one she was used to, but it seemed sturdy and in good condition. The handle was metal with minimal scratching, the limbs were flexible, and the string seemed recently replaced.
"How much?"
"Two hundred for the set, including a set of twelve carbon arrows."
"I'll take it."
She perused around the shop while Peaches finished writing up the transaction. Cheryl eventually decided on a $450 laptop, since she would need one for school and had no way to access the archaic desktop computer in her room.
"I wasn't expecting you to buy shit in there," Jughead commented through the open window as Cheryl walked back to the car, purchases in hand.
The redhead rolled her eyes, "That bitch wouldn't give me what I deserved, but I haggled a fair price that happened to include a percentage being in store credit."
Jughead laughed, "Not a fan of the salesperson I take it then?"
"She was doing her job, but I have... prior... experience with her," Cheryl fumed.
"Oh?"
"Let's just say she has an infatuation with Toni in my world, and I can't seem to get rid of her. Seriously, all the time, there she is," she explained in annoyance.
He raised his brow and gave an uncomfortable smile, "Well for what it's worth I don't think you have to worry about her being competition here. It's not like the princess is paying attention to some random Southsider." The redhead snapped her neck to the side and glared at him. "What did I say? I just said she wouldn't be paying attention to someone from the South- oh."
"Can we just go?" Cheryl huffed. "We still have to stop by the hardware store and get groceries before they close."
Jughead wordlessly nodded, inwardly kicking himself for upsetting his friend. He pulled the car away from the curb and into traffic.
"Pull in here," Cheryl instructed as she noticed a corner pharmacy at the intersection.
"I thought you wanted to go to the hardware store?"
"I do," she answered, "but first I want to feel like me."
He pulled into the parking lot and stopped the car in front of the entrance for Cheryl to jump out. A few minutes later she returned with a small plastic bag in hand.
"Get what you needed?"
She reached into the bag and pulled out a small box. Cheryl opened it and slid out its contents: a tube of red lipstick. She uncapped it, flipped down the rear view mirror, and applied a coating of color to her lips. When finished, she returned the item to the bag and used the receipt to blot away the excess.
"So... lipstick?" He asked, amused.
Cheryl smirked, "My signature color."
"Well, looks good, Blossom," Jughead smiled, a ghost of a laugh on his lips. "Now, let's go get you some hot water, shall we?"
"We shall."
-
The sound of the trailer door being thrown shut alerted Cheryl that her uncle had arrived home from the meeting. She walked into the living room to see him shedding his jean jacket before tossing it onto the back of the couch.
"How was your evening?"
She smiled, "Oh, you know, same as always. I thought we could have dinner together?"
Claude huffed, "Not much to make unfortunately. Sorry again 'bout that. I'm trying to get the finances fixed."
"I think I saw something in the fridge we could make," Cheryl coaxed.
He laughed as he walked into the kitchen. "Unless you plan on cooking the box of baking powder I'm not sure wha-" As the refrigerator door opened, he was shocked to see it was completely stocked: fresh produce, a gallon of milk, lunch meat, orange juice, packages of steaks and chicken cutlets, and a carton of eggs. He swung open the freezer to see it was full as well with waffles, various bags of vegetables, pizzas, and a selection tv dinners. "Where'd all this food come from?"
Cheryl tried not to feel proud as she answered, "I bought it. I got us a new water heater too. FP installed it already." She walked over to the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet, "See? Hot water."
Claude scrunched his brow in confusion, "Goose... not that I'm not extremely grateful, but uh... how'd you afford all this?"
"Oh..." Cheryl's confidence faltered, "I just sold some things."
He eyed her suspiciously, "I can't think of anything you'd have worth that much money."
"Uh-"
"Cheryl?"
"Jughead and I went to the pawn shop together. You can ask him," she deflected, hoping he wouldn't follow through with her suggestion.
He sighed, "You know I love Jughead, and I've got nothing but respect for the Serpents, but I'd be lying if I said they didn't get into some shady shit time to time."
"This had nothing to do with the Serpents," she interjected before he could say another thought. "I swear, Uncle."
Claude ran his hand through his salt and pepper hair, "I... whatever is going on... just promise me you're being careful?"
"Have you ever known me to be anything but?"
"Point," he chuckled. "Well, best not let all this good food go to waste." Claude opened up the refrigerator and pulled out the sirloins Cheryl had purchased. "I was going to heat us up some canned beans for dinner, but would be stupid to pass up steaks. Why don't you go get the grill started and I'll season these?"
"Of course, I happen to be an expert at starting fires."