It's funny how good the woods are to clear a head. I can remember walking through woods and forests as a child, maybe along a river when I needed to get away from Cheryl and Jason, or needed to avoid my mother. I never guessed that as a young adult I would still be doing it, finding solstice in the quiet crunch of dead leaves beneath my feet, and the caress of wind against my cheeks, and the faraway bird call. It was easy to calm down here.
As I was walking, I was wondering if my child could feel their mother calming and enjoying the not so silent silence around her. I was wondering if maybe they too would find the same peace in the woods. And suddenly, while my thoughts were consumed by the possibilities of what my child could and might and every potential trait they could have, I forgave Jug. The pressure of a child is enough to swallow an adult whole, yet alone two people who were just finding their place amongst the adults of society. Would our child look like him? Would they like writing? Would they concoct magical storylines? Would they spend hours debating the best crime novel with their father?
"Betty, I'm going to work things out with Jughead, you go ahead and meet Archie," I announced, and it seemed like she had been expecting it. I didn't wait for a reply, instead just turned around and began the walk back to the bunker.
The leaves waved at me as I passed them, welcoming me along my path and pointing which way I should go. I watched two squirrels run in front of me, chasing after each other and completely ignoring my existence. The dappled sunlight kissed my skin, reminding me of its warmth.
Some people would have regrets in my position. Maybe they would regret going with my brother, and agreeing to take him across Sweetwater River to his doom. Maybe they would regret stepping onto the frozen grave and the night that came after. Perhaps they would regret not being beside Jughead on the opening night of Carrie. There was so much that people could regret, or should regret if they were in my position. One of the biggest would probably be the spontaneous night of passion that resulted in a life. But for some reason I didn't.
When you make a decision, you can't regret it, because it was the right decision at the time. I will never regret the night that gave me my child because it was an amazing night amidst the hell that was circling us. Joining the Serpents was the right decision for me. Following Jug to Southside High. Even changing my last name, all of that was the right decision. So, I would never regret it. This was Riverdale, a Wicked Little Town, and if you were going to thrive, regrets were a liberty that was not permitted.
By the time I arrived back at the bunker, I could hear Jughead inside and immediately recognised the song and the emotion leaking from inside. So, I silently descended back into the bunker, trying my hardest to not disturb my boyfriend within.
I watched as he pulled the videotape from the VCR and threw it angrily at the wall, and even from in the shadows of the entrance, I could tell he was trying not to cry.
"And then storm clouds gathered above, into great balls of fire." Whatever book had fallen when he threw the tape, he then picked up. I watched in silence and with baited breath as he collected his school books and placed them on the desk, still not knowing I was there. It wasn't until he opened every single one, pulled open the laptop and was about to begin studying that I made myself known.
"And then fire, shot down from the sky in bolts like shining blades of a knife. And it ripped right through the flesh of the children of the sun and the moon and the earth."
Jughead turned to me, eyes wide with shock at the fact I had come back. I knew he would have scripted some heartfelt apology to make up for our argument, but that was unnecessary. He stood, slowly walking over to me and continuing the song he had started, his voice rough and authentic and perfect to me.
"And Osiris and the gods of the Nile, gathered up a big storm," I immediately joined in, his arms finding their way around my waist just as our foreheads met in a peaceful embrace, "to blow a hurricane, to scatter us away, in a flood of wind and rain, a sea of tidal waves to wash us all away. And if we don't behave, they'll cut us down again. We'll be hopping round on one foot, and looking through one eye." We were quiet, singing softly by the end.
That was our way of forgiving. It was one thing to verbally say something, to make the other understand, but to Jughead and I, we just knew. We felt it in the kiss, and heard it in the hug and saw it through the others eyes. There was no world where we were angry at each other for long. In fact, if I could forgive him for pretending to be dead and not telling me, anything like this seemed obsolete. And maybe it was, because we had someone else to think about now, someone who mattered so much more.
In 2 hours, Jughead came over to me. I was lying on the small bed in the corner, scrolling through baby names on my phone and looking at nursery designs on Pinterest. Not that we had thought about where we would be living or what was happening with college, but it was fun to get excited like any normal couple. He had his laptop in his hands, offering it to me.
"One fully researched, thoroughly-proofed, MLA-formatted essay on the Salem witch trials." I took the laptop and scrolled through the pages of the essay, recognising his style and watching the effort pour from the laptop. This was my Jughead.
"I don't know what to say." I told him, smiling at him. Jug then sat beside where I was lying on the bed, and he looked at my swollen stomach with a look of adoration.
"You don't have to say anything. I do. I'm sorry." He didn't need to say anything and he knew it. But, as he looked at our baby still hiding and growing inside my stomach, I could tell that he was only partly apologising to me. He had grown up seeing the effects of his dad shouting and getting uncontrollably angry, and he wasn't about to fall down the same path. "I shouldn' have been as ticked off as I was that you and Betty had faith in me." So, I put his laptop to one side and sat up and kissed him.
"I need to finish that essay on Call of the Wild, so while we walk home do you want to talk baby names?" He asked me, and I felt my smile spread over my face. And for some reason, I knew we would be taking the long way home.
The variety show had been canceled by Honey. Not that it was surprising in the slightest, because he seemed to be slowly draining the life out of Riverdale High one student at a time. It just so happened that Kevin was the latest target after Cheryl. So, none other than Veronica Lodge had jumped in and saved the day by hosting the variety show at Pops and La Bonuis.
Cheryl got to be the host and introduced every act while Toni, Fangs and Sweetpea all stood around me. I had decided not to perform, instead of feeling sick, I was sat in a chair by the front of the stage, watching as the Archies filed the stage. Jughead had only allowed me to come because I had my two guard dogs either side of me, not that they minded. Fangs was sending winks to Kevin on stage, SweetPea and Reggie were cheering loudly and I was just watching Jughead who couldn't keep his eyes focused on the crowd. At my table was also FP who had promised Jug that I would be fine, and a night out would likely do me good.
Midnight Radio had been my favorite song from the musical, and the Archies did a beautiful rendition of the song. Instead of looking at Veronica's loving looks at Archie, or Betty's longing gazes, I watched my boyfriend sitting at the back of the stage, playing the drums and smiling to all his friends and me in the crowd.
"Here's to Ronnie,"
"And Archie,"
"And Betty," Sang Jug, grinning at his friend and making a smile pull at her features as she turned her face to me in the crowd to sing her line.
"And Cynhead,"
"And Choni," Everyone sang together, also highlighting Reggie before Kevin's big solo note. SweetPea held my hand as we both stood up cheering, softly swaying to the music and singing along.
"And you shining, like the brightest star, a transmission, on the midnight radio," We were singing loudly, out of tune and laughing as he spun me around. We were acting like teenagers awkwardly dancing at their first school dance, spinning and swaying and playing out every romantic film ever written.
After their final chorus, Archie led the group outside, Veronica and Betty following, next Kevin, and finally Jughead who kissed my forehead as he followed the group. Outside, the Archies were standing on the roof of Pop's, my brother in front and playing guitar. I stood looking up, my rand resting on my stomach as FP and I looked up at Jughead.
"Lift up your hands," They began. We were all holding candles, looking up at the group on top of the diner. They were all so happy and I was proud to call them my friends.
"Lift up your hands," Silently, I told my baby to look at their daddy, watch him sway and look out at the gathered residents of the Town with Pep, listen to his voice above those of Uncles Archie and Kevin, and Aunties Betty and Veronica. If I closed my eyes and focused on Jughead's voice and my baby, I could feel them moving, kicking, as if dancing along to the music. Surprisingly it didn't hurt like I expected, and it didn't feel uncomfortable. It was peaceful, just like if I was back in the forest.
"Lift up your hands," The five on the stage of Pop's roof raised their hands and I couldn't help but imagine how much of town you could see from there. They'd be able to pick out the lights of the town and the residential areas, maybe see the school, and they were looking over a sea of residents who had come to see the variety show. But still in the crowd, Jughead's eyes found mine, despite me having a green trench coat wrapped tightly around me.
"Lift up your hands," The town, myself included, were waving their hands at the group on the roof, candles swaying the same way as their bodies, casting an orange hue over their faces. It was a sight my dad would have loved to see.
"Lift up your hands," Of all the performances that had happened inside and on top of Pop's, this was by far the best.
"Lift up your hands," You could tell, even if you had never met Arcie Andrews in your life, that as he stood on the roof, playing guitar, he was somewhere else. He was imagining dad, standing below, waving along, singing along with a look of pride on his face. This was one of the many tributes that Archie would make to his dad, and it was my favourite.
"Lift up your hands," Old quarrels were forgotten, the town together as one.
"Lift up your hands," I looked to my sister and Toni, looking up at the group and swaying along. They were the perfect couple and I prayed that the town and the world would be kind to them, not tear them apart as they did so many others. I hoped that they would always look at eachother like that, and always smile. They deserved happiness, my sister deserves happiness.
"Lift up your hands," I watched as Cheryl looked back at someone, and I saw Mr Honey, watching from the back no smile, no hand raised, no candle, no support. He was just a mix of disapproving glares and sour faces. But he wouldn't ruin our mood. Cheryl kissed Toni and smiled at me as we once again turned our attention to the group on the roof.
"Lift up your hands," Sweet Pea, Fangs and Reggie all standing side by side and smiling, Pop Tate behind them with the biggest grin on his face. The old man had seen more than most in this town but he was the perfect ray of sunshine that the town needed.
"Lift up your hands," Jughead closed his eyes, getting lost in the music, or the sound of a town united by five high school kids singing at a diner. If only the world could be righted the same way.
"Lift up your hands," Betty pointed to her mom and FP, FP holding Alice Cooper close to him. They were both proud parents watching their children and I wondered if that's what Jughead and I would look like. I wondered what great adventures our child would have that I could be a part of.
"Lift up your hands," I almost wished I was up there with them.
"Lift up your hands," Although then again, I didn't, because watching was enough.
"Lift up your hands,"
Jughead POV
There's a problem that comes once you get caught up on your homework. Your mind wanders and evil creeps back in. Was the voyeur somewhere amongst us in the crowd? Was he one of the ones standing near my unknowing Cynthia? Playing his long game? Turing the temperature up ever so slowly...so that by the time we frogs realised we were being boiled alive, it was too late.
I couldn't help but think back to that tape. I should have been enjoying the last few moments of our performance, but instead, as I smiled down at my pregnant girlfriend, I couldn't help but remember it, a tape I wanted to forget.
It showed someone with a mask meant to be me, they even wore clothes that were practically from my wardrobe. Whoever it was was in the woods, knelt on the ground. Then another character stepped into the view of the camera, and this time it was someone who was meant to be Cynthia. I can remember sitting forward in my seat, biting my knuckle as I saw she was holding a wiggling blanket close to their chest. That was clearly our child. I could hear the breathing of the man behind the Jughead mask, and the crying of the girl behind Cynthia's. I could see that whoever my actor was, their hands were bound, and I couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't just acting.
Next into view, from around the back of a tree came 'Betty', or at least that's who it was meant to represent. She came quickly from behind and you could hear 'Cynthia' crying a little more, holding the child a little closer. I asked myself who these people were, but then knew that I wouldn't like the answer. Just as 'Betty' got close, she swung a rock and hit the back of my character's face, exactly as she was supposed to have done before. Whoever made this, they knew about the Preppies trying to frame Betty for my murder, but I didn't understand why Cynthia was here. If this was a recreation, Cynthia shouldn't be here and neither should the baby in her arms.
As the body of the person behind my mask fell to the floor, the woman behind Cynthia's screamed loudly. 'Betty' turned to her quickly and stalked over. She ripped the baby out of its mother's arms and you could hear the cry of a baby fill the camera. I knew that this wasn't special effects, that this wasn't done in editing. Whoever these people were, the baby was real.
With the baby now in her arms, 'Betty' struck 'Thia' with the same rock, sending her to the floor and silencing her loud cries for help. 'Betty' then looked at the camera, rock in one hand and baby in the other. She moved closer to the camera and lifted the rock high above her head. With one quick move, she brought the rock towards the baby's crying face, only I didn't see what happened. The video cut out.
I had promised not to say anything to Cynthia, at least not for now. She didn't need to know or see this video, because ever since I had come back, she was perfect. In fact, she was the best she had been since the Black Hood and I didn't want to risk our baby over the panic attacks that were sure to accompany her knowing about this video.
I looked down at her face as she smiled up at me from beside my father. "Lift. Up. Your. Hands!" We sang. No, there were some things that she didn't need to know right now. She just needed to be healthy and happy, and I would make sure that happened.