Chapter Text
Take a daughter who didn’t come home for a weekend and a mother who stayed home for the weekend, mixed in with the tension from all the years of family drama, and you get a rage fight by the staircase.
“OUT. I want you out of this house, young lady,” Alice fumed, stomping downstairs behind Betty. “First you have the nerve to come home after disappearing for two nights, and then you talk to me that way?”
“And now you’re kicking me out? Like you did with dad?” Betty seethed, her hand holding a messily stuffed duffel bag (that was barely zipped through). When she stepped on the last stair, she made sure to scrape her muddy sneakers just to provoke her mother further.
See, while Betty was fully aware of the fact that she had crossed multiple lines that afternoon (especially when she mentioned the rascal that was Forsythe Pendleton Jones II), she wasn’t expecting to be kicked out of her own house. Betty could feel her blood boiling under her skin at the sight of her angry mother – what gave her the right to kick her daughter out the doors? There was nothing she could do, however. Legally speaking, her dad had custody (and there was absolutely no way she was going back to that hellhole).
Still, though, Betty wasn’t going to let her guard down. She wasn’t going to give up without a fight. If anything, she was getting kicked out either way (and much to her misguided judgment, she figured it would be beneficial on her end to add more salt to the bleeding wound).
“Don’t come running back here when it’s convenient for you again. I mean it,” her mother said sharply.
Betty rolled her eyes, opening the door and tossing her duffel bag outside (a few clothes managed to fall out, too). “Now what, mom? Where do I go? Dad’s?” She asked loudly and testily. “You’ll really allow me to live with the guy you couldn’t bear living with?”
“Oh, you’ll figure that out. Since you’re so grown up now, aren’t you?” Her mother retorted sarcastically, rage flowing through every vein her body. Then, exasperated, she added, “Why did you turn out to be such an entitled brat?”
“Hmm. I don’t know, mom. Who raised me?” Betty shot back in a mocking tone.
“I am through with you,” she finished as Betty stepped outside.
Before Betty could say anything else, Alice slammed the door in her face, so Betty stood facing the wooden barricade that stood in between her and the woman who was supposed to be her mother.
Betty sat on the steps, grudgingly picking up her fallen sweaters and stuffing them inside the duffel bag. She zipped it shut, placing the big lump on her lap. She then brought out her phone from her pocket (which was at the groundbreaking number of one percent) and dialed the only person she could turn to at the moment.
Two rings later, “B? You okay? Are you back?” Veronica’s perky voice sounded pleasantly to her ears.
Betty stood up, one hand with the phone to her ear and the other holding the duffel bag. She walked down and out the lot before saying, “Hey, V. Yes, I’m back, but no, actually. I’m not okay. I got kicked out.”
“Of your house?!” Veronica said, appalled. Betty could already hear Veronica’s feet shuffling, probably to start some elaborate plan to get things back into order.
Betty began walking faster down the block. “Yeah. You know how I spiraled and booked two nights at the Five Seasons Hotel and didn’t contact her?” Betty started, and suddenly she was burning with rage all over again. “I came back and she was in a horrible mood. She wouldn’t stop yapping about how I had no right to come home since I had no right to leave. But in my defense, she was the one who started controlling my every movement just because she couldn’t control Polly! I was just so mad at her that I brought up - ”
“Shh, shh. It’s okay. You’re more than welcome to stay at the Pembroo - ”
And that was when her phone died.
“Ughhhhhh,” Betty grumbled, stuffing her phone back in her pocket.
She turned around, heading in the direction of Archie’s house, almost forgetting that he was her neighbor. Archie was her other best friend, and while he was dating Veronica Lodge, he was nothing like her. Truth be told, his loyalty didn’t mean he was dependable. Though she had only known Veronica for a year, Veronica was easier to rely on.
When she finally arrived at his doorstep, she dropped the duffel bag on the floor, feeling her left arm’s strain pretty badly. She knocked on the wooden door, and after hearing Fred Andrews’s voice go “Archie! Get the door!” and his dog Vegas’s adorable howl, she heard the sound of soles hitting the staircase and then the creak of the door open.
Archie stood in front of her, wearing a plain shirt and basketball shorts. He was all sweaty, too, which meant he was probably lifting weights or whatever. Fitness stuff Betty had no motivation for. “Betty, sup?” he said, arms at his sides. He seemed oblivious to the fact that she was red from anger and that there was a duffel bag at her feet.
Betty tried to hold a smile. “Hey, if it’s not too much, can you drive me to Veronica’s?”
“Your bag’s like, way too small, Betty. Do you have enough clothes for the week?” Archie asked, eyes on the road, right after she recounted the whole story. Archie had also just called Veronica to say they were on their way.
Betty sighed. “Unfortunately, I have like, four sweaters and no pajamas and like, twenty dollars,” she replied. “Oh, and these are my only shoes,” she added, pointing down at her muddy white Keds.
Archie cringed when he looked down, probably because her shoes were staining his car, which Betty felt horribly sorry for, so she lifted them up, just above the car’s floor. Not that it counted.
“Nah, it’s cool. I’m getting the carpet washed soon, anyway,” Archie said, seeing her feet go up. Betty knew though that the carpet was newly washed (they were extra clean), and Archie just said that to make her feel better. Still, the thought remained, and maybe he wasn’t so bad at comforting people after all. “So, you’re not coming back anytime soon, huh?”
“Yup. Dad getting kicked out when I was in fourth grade was the final straw right before the divorce, so…” Betty said.
“Oh,” Archie said. And after a few second of silence, he spoke again. “Ronnie’ll probably loan you some clothes. Then when your mom’s at work, she’ll probably help you sneak in to get the rest of your clothes. Anyway, I’m sure your mom’ll let you back in soon enough. There’s a difference between a failed marriage and a rebel child – believe me, I’d know.”
“You have a point,” Betty said thoughtfully. Archie’s parents were divorced and he had a major rebel streak in sophomore year, but his dad never kicked him out. “But supposedly I live with my dad.”
“But your mom raised you more than your dad did, and my dad raised me more than my mom did. So I think I still have a better point,” Archie finished.
“Okay, point taken – I’ll be back one day. But we have school tomorrow, and all my school stuff are in my room,” Betty grumbled, leaning against the car window.
“Ronnie has an extra copy of each of our required books because she can and probably a whole room for stationery. You’ll be fine,” Archie reassured her, running a hand through his red hair. “And here we are,” he finished, stopping in front of The Pembrooke.
Veronica was already waiting by the foyer when they walked inside. Archie was holding Betty’s duffel for her. And even though it was a lazy, stay-at-home Sunday, Veronica wore her usual ensemble of a Peter Pan collared blouses and skirts and black heels.
“Oh, Betty!” She exclaimed when she saw her, running toward her to give her a warm sort-of-unexpected hug. “You okay?” She asked through the embrace.
Betty nodded. “Yeah, thank you, V. I owe you the entire universe. Thank you thank you thank you,” she said sincerely. She had never felt more grateful to have her friends by her side. “I’m so sorry. I owe you big time.”
“You don’t owe me a thing, silly. You assist me so generously and selflessly with homework and my own personal dilemmas every day,” she reassured her. Then, Veronica pulled away, before giving her a serious look. “You poor thing. I’ve always known your mother was crazy, but this... Anyway, before you spill all the beans, I have some beans to spill on my own, too. Unless Archie told you?”
Betty gave her a weird look. “Archie didn’t tell me anything, why?”
She nodded, giving Archie a pointed (but nonetheless sweet) look. “Well…there’s unfortunately only one guest room at The Pembrooke – a tragedy of epic proportions, I know, but the mansion is still under construction – and I may already have a guest staying over as well who just arrived last night, due to some awful and extenuating circumstances almost similar to your own...”
Betty had to process the whole sentence before nodding. Veronica spoke as though she was from a melodramatic teen series.
“Regardless,” Veronica continued, “I’m hoping you can look past the … differences you share, and/or will potentially share with this certain guest of mine, and instead prosper in your shared room during your stay at my humble abode.”
Veronica’s word choice allowed for Betty to not 100% understand what Veronica was saying. She always had some elaborate way of saying things. “Okay, I’m cool sharing,” she said with a smile. Because of course she was. Strangely, though, Archie looked very tense. He nodded slowly, waiting for Veronica to drop whatever bomb she just lit up.
“Okay, great!” Veronica said abruptly, but she looked nervous. Then, softly, Veronica Lodge murmured. (Veronica never murmured). She mumbled words that Betty heard ever so clearly, “Because you’re gonna be crashing with Jughead.”
Betty instantly censored his name in her head and reminded herself that Veronica was doing her the biggest favor in the world. Still though, she couldn’t wipe out the obvious unpleasantness on her face (side effect of the mention of Jughead Jones).
To provide a bit of undetailed backstory, Betty and Jughead didn’t just dislike each other. To be more accurate, they loathed each other. It was as if every fiber in Betty’s being was made to hate that entitled and angsty son of a bitch. And it was 110% mutual.
It started with their families hating each other and hasn’t ended since. Growing up on the South Side of town, it somehow didn’t stop Jughead from becoming the best of friends with Archie. However, it also didn’t stop him and Betty from managing to get on each other’s nerves every goddamn day at school. Long before Veronica moved into town last year, Archie was referee and had to keep Betty from strangling Jughead to death. Archie was so grateful to have Veronica suffer with him.
Back to the present, Betty stood there, watching Veronica and Archie’s anxious faces look at her, waiting for her to probably throw a massive fit. Much to their surprise, though, Betty kept her calm. “Okay, I can deal with that. It’s fine. Thanks, V,” she said softly, nodding.
Betty took her duffel from Archie. “Thanks, Arch. Um, how long has he been here?” she asked, scarily silent.
“Just yesterday, actually. He had to because - ”
“Okay,” she interrupted, not wanting to know. Who cared about why Jughead had to leave his home? Certainly not Betty. Then, after an awkward silence, she asked, “Um, should we go?”
Veronica and Archie turned to each other, having some unspoken conversation. “Okay, go hit the elevator, B,” Veronica said, and Betty turned around to press the button, glad to finally wipe the fake smile off her lips.
While Betty was headed off, Veronica whispered to Archie, “I was worried she’d start yelling, but now I’m more worried she didn’t start yelling.”
“It’s okay. I mean, their last major fight was like…” Archie started, and then he flinched, remembering it wasn’t so long ago.
“Four days ago,” Veronica answered. “And it’s why she ran off in the first place – so she wouldn’t have to see him or ‘anybody who could trigger an explosion’.”
“Ooh, good luck,” Archie said, making a yikes face. “I should get going.”
Veronica grabbed his arm. “Noooo way, Archiekins,” she said, smiling. “You’re not going anywhere until I say so – you’re gonna play referee and help me handle them. It’s your fault, anyway, for being their first mutual friend.”
Archie groaned playfully. “God, they’ll trash your room before they even spend a night there.”
When they reached their floor, Veronica and Archie stood cautiously behind Betty, as if she was going to attack and lose control any minute. Betty took deep breaths, trying to keep her composure – see, any other day, it might’ve been a bit easier to remain calm in front of Jughead. But she started her day at a hotel and ended it with her mother throwing her out. And now, she was going to have to stay with someone she had hated her whole life.
Veronica, minus her usual finesse, fumbled with her keys (probably from nervous anticipation at what was to come). And when the doors opened, Betty saw her prospective roommate.
He was typing on his phone, walking toward the door like he owned the place, with his head bowed low. When he heard them entering, he looked up, clenched his fist, and furrowed his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes directly at Betty – a look of disgust.
According to Betty, if Jughead wasn’t such an asshole, he’d be below-average looking – but not completely hideous.
In her eyes, he had ratty ebony hair, muddy blue eyes, and the face of an underdeveloped weasel (which she claimed was her totally unbiased perspective). Not to mention, there was no accounting for fashion taste (who wore the same crown hat every day?). It probably smelled like polluted South Side air.
Betty matched his face with a look of her own – the blatant roll of her eyes and snort, eyes practically scorching at the sight of him. There were no words needed to express how much they hated each other.
They didn’t have to say anything at all.
Veronica ran in front of Betty, interrupting their staring contest. “So, Betty, let’s talk?” She said perkily.
Betty nodded, trying to not be so affected. She had to be a good guest for Veronica, obviously (though that would most definitely be a challenge considering Jughead was around).
“Let’s go on Netflix, man. Watch some documentary or whatever,” Archie told Jughead, trying to keep him away from Betty. It was common knowledge that Archie hated “documentaries or whatever”, but really, Archie and Veronica would do anything to keep World War 3 from happening.
Betty gave Jughead one final, grudge-filled look, then turned around. Betty looked at Veronica, embarrassed. “I’m sorry again for the hassle, V. I know this isn’t ideal - ”
“Are you kidding? Betty Cooper, my absolute best friend, in door-to-door distance? It’s beyond perfect,” Veronica said excitedly.
“Are your parents okay with it?” Betty asked.
“If my parents can let my boyfriend’s best friend stay, they can let my best friend stay,” Veronica said. “You can stay for as long as you’d like.”
“Thanks,” Betty said, smiling.
“Well, pizza is on its way,” Veronica said once they entered the dining area. Betty’s mouth watered at the mention of pizza, just as Veronica gave her a serious look. “Now, what happened with your mom?”
Betty sighed. “We had the worst fight of the century,” Betty mumbled, not wanting to recount the story again. “I stayed at the Five Seasons for two nights and came home, and then she started yelling. I didn’t think she’d kick me out, though.” Betty was eternally grateful that Veronica knew how to handle stressful situations. She kept her calm over the phone, and she was still keeping it now.
“What did she say?” she asked.
“I mentioned something… sensitive. Then she snapped. She told me to start packing my things,” Betty replied.
“Okay... Well, do you plan on speaking to her soon?” Veronica asked. “I mean, it’s Thanksgiving in two weeks.”
“No, I don’t,” Betty said, placing the duffel bag on the table. “Frankly, she should apologize to me for kicking me out. Custody or no, she’s still my mother. It’s her obligation to take care of me.”
Veronica nodded. “Absolutely. So when are you getting the rest of your stuff?” She asked, taking a seat and motioning for Betty to sit down as well.
Betty sat down, thinking. “I’m not sure. Maybe after school tomorrow, before she comes home from work.”
“Okay,” Veronica said. “Do you have keys?”
“Nope. But they’re under a certain house pot. And if she hid that too, I know how to pick a lock,” Betty replied. “And if it’s not my lucky lock picking day, I can borrow Archie’s ladder, climb up my window, and break the window,” she added jokingly.
Veronica gave her a weird look. “I don’t know if I should be happy or scared my best friend can pick locks.”
“Happy!” Betty exclaimed, laughing. “If you lock yourself out or you need to investigate someone…”
“I’ll be sure to call you, Nancy Drew Cooper,” Veronica finished. “Not to mention, you and Jughead - ”
“Ew.”
“ – are like, always ready to kill each other. Can you promise me you two won’t fight?” Veronica said.
“I promise I won’t fight him,” Betty said, raising her right hand. “But if he draws blood first, that’s an entirely different story.”
“Geez, you two act like you’re at war,” Veronica said, cringing.
“He waged the war first,” Betty said defensively. Truthfully speaking, Betty didn’t recall who between the both of them had started it. She couldn’t think of a time where she didn’t hate him, thanks to her mother’s constant warnings about the Joneses.
“No. Your parents started it,” Veronica corrected. “And that’s why you two have to become the better people and finish it,” Veronica said for the nth time in the years they’ve known each other.
Betty paused thoughtfully. “If this is war like you said, then somebody has to lose, or wave a white flag to end it.”