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“What do you guys do for fun around here?” Veronica asks. It’s way too hot to be eating outside, the first week of August touching nearly a hundred even in the shade of the few trees out here fighting for their lives, but nobody stopped them, and Betty appreciates the privacy. It’s always weird to go from eating with just her family—or Archie and Jughead, sometimes with Mr. Andrews, Jellybean, or Kevin in the mix—to a noisy cafeteria. Even moreso with just her mom and dad at home lately, tiptoeing insistently around Polly’s absence and refusing to acknowledge how miserable they make each other.
Betty shrugs. “Last year, for Archie’s birthday we went to PetsMart to look at the animals.”
Veronica’s perfectly made-up lips part. Betty would be lying if she said it wasn’t a bit of a thrill to shock her. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“Surely you guys go up to Atlanta sometimes, though, right?” she asks, looking between Betty and Kevin, her expression growing increasingly frantic. “I miss New York so much, I think I’d cry if I just got within Instagram photo distance of a skyscraper.”
“My dad takes me to see a play at the Fox every year for my birthday,” Kevin offers. Veronica takes a deep breath.
“Okay, new plan: I am going to host a housewarming slumber party at the Pembrooke this weekend. You’re both invited, of course, and whoever else you think wouldn’t be afraid to be caught dead around me.”
“Sounds great, V,” Betty says. “Kevin, I’ll be telling my mom I’m spending the night at your house.”
“Of course,” Kevin says, nodding. “My dad will totally lie for you. And let you leave your phone there.”
“Wow,” Veronica says, looking at them in a slightly muted version of her prior shocked expression, and Betty shrugs.
“Gotta love small-town grudges. Apparently she was a real bitch to him in high school.”
Veronica leaves after promising to “text them the deets,” needing to turn in a form to the front office about transferring her credits or something, and Betty tries not to smile at her back.
“Sooo…” Kevin says, looking over his shoulder to check Veronica’s gone and turning back to Betty with his eyebrows halfway up his scalp. “Am I the last to know, or is this a recent development?”
“You’re the only to know, and I’d like to keep it that way, thank you.” Kevin gestures at her to keep going, and she crosses her arms and sighs. “I figured some stuff out over the summer, I guess, and I didn’t know how to tell you yet. And seriously, I don’t want anyone else to know about it.”
Kevin mimes zipping his lips, then unzips them to ask, “Wait, not even her?”
“Especially her,” Betty affirms. “She’s probably straight. And my mom would probably kill me.”
“Because she’s a girl?”
“Because she’s Hiram Lodge’s daughter,” Betty says. “And maybe because she’s a girl? I’m not too sure on that point yet, and I’d rather not risk it.”
“Understood,” Kevin says, looking like he’s trying to be supportive while having just found out someone kicked his puppy.
“It’ll be fine, Kev,” she says, mustering up a smile for him. “V and I are gonna just be friends, and my mother won’t ask any questions about why I’m focusing on my studies rather than relationships, and then we’ll go to Georgia State and be gay in the city together. Okay?”
“Counting down the days,” Kevin says, smiling back. God, Betty thinks as they walk to class, she wishes she could talk to Polly about this. She’d… maybe not get it, exactly, but she’d argue with Mom about it until she was something approaching reasonable, nothing like the hurricane of glass shards that was awaiting Betty at home. And Dad wouldn’t be working such long hours, and they’d all laugh more…
Betty shakes herself. Okay, she is not gonna cry in class, especially not during the first week of school. Besides, she’s gotta figure out how to convince Jughead to come to a slumber party.
“I can’t just leave Jellybean alone with my dad,” Jughead says, glancing across the parking lot to where Riverdale Elementary School will let out any minute. “He can barely keep himself alive, much less a child.”
“So see if there’s a friend she can spend the night with,” Betty says. “Or she can come with.” At Jughead’s skeptical expression, she doubles down: “Please? I love Kevin, but I really need a buffer, because he is not exactly subtle.”
Jughead’s expression softens. “I assume this is about the thing we’re not talking about?” Betty nods, and he rubs a hand over his mouth. “Okay, fine. I’ll figure something out.”
“Thank you, thank you,” Betty says, giving him a quick side hug, letting go just in time for Jellybean to careen into his waist.
“Hey, kiddo,” Jughead says, grinning. “How many times do I have to tell you to wait for us to do the crosswalk with you, huh?”
“Sorry,” Jellybean mumbles into his t-shirt, and he ruffles her braids.
“Okay, let’s load up, Betty doesn’t have all day.”
Hank Williams’ familiar croon filters through the speakers as Jellybean reluctantly answers Jughead’s questions about her day with an impressive amount of eye-rolling. Betty wishes she did have all day for this; it’s been the highlight every day this week, the late-summer air blowing through the cab since the truck’s AC’s been broken since June, Jughead’s elbow out the open window and hand clamped down on the beanie he insists on wearing even when the heat index is 108, the way he mutters “A pox on both y’all’s houses” whenever they pass some suburbanite running their sprinklers outside the designated hours. It’s a routine born of grief, the way Jughead and Jellybean’s mom can’t pick them up from school because she fucked off up North and their dad can’t because he’s just waking up and half a dozen beers deep rather than just having gotten off the construction site, the way Betty misses the passenger seat of Polly’s convertible something fierce, but it’s a good one nonetheless. They’re planning to surprise Jellybean with a stop at the QuikTrip for slushies on Friday, and Betty realizes it’s the first time she’s been looking forward to something since Polly disappeared.
“Hey, Jellybean, how would you feel about spending the night at Ms. Suzanne’s house this weekend?” Jughead asks. Betty shoots him a look—she knows he isn’t making enough at the Twilight Drive-In to cover babysitting money, even with their elderly neighbor’s generous rate, even with both of them on Free & Reduced Lunch—and he deflects it with a shrug, so. She’ll just have to figure out a way to make the cost up to him later.
“Sure,” Jellybean says, shrugging, and Jughead nods at Betty like, There, that settles it. Slushies and slumber parties this Friday, then. Betty isn’t so sure she’s looking forward to the latter.
Betty schedules a couple of texts and leaves her phone at Kevin’s Friday evening. Mr. Keller nods at her, tips his beer in her direction. “I’d get up to give you a hug, but this is the first time I’ve sat down all day and I think my knees would mutiny.”
“He just got home, like, twenty minutes ago,” Kevin says. “Some major delays at the construction site today.”
“Can’t fault the overtime pay, though,” Mr. Keller says, and Betty nods sympathetically.
“Lasagna’s in the fridge, Dad,” Kevin says, picking up his keys, and Mr. Keller nods.
“Thanks, son. You kids have a good time, now.”
“Yes, sir,” Betty says, smiling, and off they go.
Jughead tosses his backpack in with Betty’s duffel and Kevin’s monogrammed tote bag in the truck bed and hops in the backseat. “Any bets on how many trailers could fit in this apartment?” he asks, and Betty rolls her eyes even as she laughs.
“Play nice, Jug.”
“I’m just askin’,” he says, and she can tell without checking the rearview that he’s holding up his hands in reluctant surrender. She is, in many ways, lucky he loves her. “Arch comin’?” he asks after a minute, and she hopes he wasn’t trying to be subtle because if so, that was a shit job at it.
“He’s at Cheryl’s party with the rest of the football team,” she says, and Jughead shudders.
“Yeah, give me a sweet tea at Sunnyside over that nest of vipers any week.”
It takes them a minute to figure out where to park, but they eventually pull in next to a familiar Bug.
“Oh, neat,” Jughead says, climbing out and grabbing his bag and Kevin’s, “Ethel’s here.” He is, impressively, on his best behavior, only making a little bit of a face when the honest-to-God butler holds the door for them. Veronica hasn’t gotten any less stunning since the end of the school day, still in her dress and pearls but barefoot on the thick rug. It doesn’t make Betty breathe any easier, seeing her a little more at ease. Veronica’s mom is just as put-together, in fancy clothes and fuzzy slippers that don’t cause that much cognitive dissonance, all told, since they probably cost what Jughead makes in a month. She’s leaning against the island and sipping a glass of white wine, looking every inch like she belongs on the cover of Southern Comfort.
They introduce themselves, shaking Mrs. Lodge’s perfectly moisturized and manicured hand. “Thank you for having us over, ma’am,” Kevin says, and she waves a hand.
“Oh, you don’t need to call me that,” Mrs. Lodge says, smiling and shrugging. “Makes me feel old.” They all shoot each other a panicked look, like, Is this what a decade and a half in New York’ll do to you?
“I thought we could make mini pizzas,” Veronica says, taking a tray of little bowls of toppings out of the massive fridge and nodding to the balls of dough at the other end of the island.
“Can I do two?” Jughead asks, and Betty elbows him.
“Jug usually eats a whole pizza by himself,” she explains, and Mrs. Lodge laughs.
“Go for it,” she says, “There’s plenty.”
So: Betty and Kevin deck theirs out in several cheeses and pepperoni, Veronica crafts a margherita pizza that looks like it came out of an expensive Italian restaurant, Ethel makes a spicy vegetarian pizza with the hot peppers no one else will touch, and Jughead loads both of his with as many meats as will fit. Mrs. Lodge puts ham and pineapple on hers, which Veronica teases her lightly about.
“That’s my sister’s favorite,” Betty says, trying to keep the ache out of her voice.
“A young woman of taste,” Mrs. Lodge says. Her smile softens. “I don’t get to meet Veronica’s friends very often,” she adds conspiratorially, and Betty smiles back at her.
“So what’s it like being back in your hometown, Mrs. Lodge?” Kevin asks, and Betty doesn’t miss the way Mrs. Lodge presses her lips together for a moment before smiling brightly.
“Claustrophobic,” she says, half a joke at most, then begins an anecdote about Andy Cohen that thoroughly engrosses Kevin while Jughead and Veronica compete over who can roll their eyes the hardest.
Betty feels something she can’t articulate when Veronica emerges from the bathroom in her matching silk pajama set and does a little twirl. Jealousy, maybe, or inadequacy, sitting on top of her sleeping bag in her t-shirt and sweatpants, but mostly a magnitude of affection she has no business feeling, especially so early on. Mostly more than her fair share of want.
“We should play a sleepover game,” Ethel says, and continues despite Jughead’s groan, “How about a round of Secrets and Sins?”
“I’m not sure I’m familiar with that,” Veronica says.
“It’s a small-town tradition as old as cow poker: spill all your business before someone else can spill it for you.” At the confused wrinkle of Veronica’s brow, Jughead rephrases. “You literally just share a secret. But if other players think it isn’t juicy enough, people have been known to take matters into their own hands.”
“Sounds messy,” Veronica says. “I’m in.”
Betty shifts to sit cross-legged as they form a loose circle. “Okay, Ethel, you started this, so you can go first.”
Ethel looks at her hands for a moment, interlocking and separating her fingers. “Okay, so… My parents would rather me go to Riverdale Community College after graduation, keep living at home, but they’ve said they’d be okay with me going to Liberty University, or, you know, somewhere else like that.” Kevin shudders. “But I’ve been talking with Mrs. Fletcher about what I’d need to do to get into UC Berkeley.”
“Ethel,” Betty says, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “That’s huge. You can totally do it.”
“Thanks,” Ethel says, smiling slightly. “It scares the shit out of me, but… I’ve gotta get out of here.”
“Amen to that,” Kevin says. He sighs, fidgeting with the zipper of his sleeping bag. “Okay, um… When Moose and I found Jason’s body, we weren’t working out or whatever we told the sheriff. We were there to hook up.”
“God, Kevin,” Veronica says. “That must’ve been so traumatic.”
“The perils of being queer in Riverdale,” Kevin says, sighing again. “He hasn’t really talked to me since then, so. Not that I blame him.”
“I’m so sorry,” Veronica says, and they all just sit in that for a moment. Betty rubs Kevin’s back.
“My dad’s a drunk,” Jughead offers flatly into the silence. “That’s not the secret, everybody knows that.” He rubs at the side of his nose. “Um, my dad’s a drunk, and because he couldn’t get his shit together my mom’s not coming back, and I am so…” He takes a breath. “So terrified I’m gonna fuck up my kid sister like they fucked me up. Or worse.”
“I know this isn’t the same thing, but my older sister always looked out for me when our parents were fighting and stuff,” Ethel says. “Jellybean’s lucky to have you.”
“Yeah,” Jughead says, sniffing and pulling his beanie down tighter. “Thanks.”
Betty shifts to rest her chin on her knee. “My sister’s in a mental institution,” she says. “Supposedly—my parents won’t let me see her. And I think they might be on their way to getting a divorce.” Kevin folds his arms around her, and that quickly morphs into a group hug, everyone holding her safe and tight. Even Jughead wraps a hand around her ankle, tethering her to earth as she cries.
When Betty catches her breath and everyone gradually peels off, Veronica sets her shoulders with a wry smile. “Well, this is paltry in comparison, but I guess my secret is that… I don’t really have all that much to miss in New York.” Her shrug is delicate and tired. “Don’t get me wrong, I miss the city, and the anonymity—and the shopping—but… none of my friends from there have tried to check on me.” She looks up with an affected brightness that reminds Betty of Mrs. Lodge. “So I guess they weren’t really much of friends, huh.”
Betty gives her a sympathetic smile. “Fuck ‘em,” Jughead offers, and Kevin raises his Coke.
“Hear, hear.”
“Thanks, guys,” Veronica says, hugging a pillow to her chest. “Okay, let’s try, like, cards or something now.”
Surprisingly, Veronica’s an early riser. Jughead and Kevin, of course, are sound asleep, and Ethel stirs, smiles at Betty, and rolls back over as Betty picks her way across the room to brush her teeth. She’s wondering about the etiquette of using the Lodges’ Keurig when she walks into the kitchen and sees Veronica already there, standing at the island and bouncing her teabag in her mug with a serious expression.
She looks up and smiles when she sees Betty, expression clearing. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Betty says, smiling softly back. She wishes she’d brushed her hair; even at this hour, Veronica looks perfectly put-together. Betty wonders how deep that composure runs.
“Want some tea?” Veronica asks. “We have darjeeling, green, herbal…”
“Surprise me,” Betty says, and Veronica selects a bag and fills a mug with hot water from the Keurig.
Veronica stirs in a spoonful of agave nectar. “This one’s my favorite,” she says, sliding it over. It’s fruity and bright, summery despite being a hot drink.
“It’s really good,” Betty says, and Veronica smiles, pleased. She tilts her head in the direction of the couch, and Betty follows her, setting her mug down on the delicate porcelain coaster. They drink in silence for a minute, the sunlight filtering in.
“I didn’t say what I wanted to last night,” Veronica says, brushing invisible dust from her lap and looking back up at Betty. “Ask me again.”
“Wait, what?” Betty asks. They’ve been speaking quietly, careful not to disturb the others or Veronica’s mom in the adjoining rooms, but when the words leave her mouth, they’re barely audible.
Veronica doesn’t break eye contact. “Ask me my secret again.”
“Okay,” Betty says, blinking. “Um. Veronica, what’s your secret?”
“I’ve been thinking about kissing you at tryouts ever since it happened,” Veronica says, and Betty doesn’t dare even breathe, doesn’t want to shatter whatever dream she’s having right now. “I was thinking about kissing you before then, if I’m being honest,” she continues, looking down at her hands—the maximum depth of all that confidence, but the bravery remains. “And the secret is,” she says, looking back now, letting her gaze drop to Betty’s lips, “I’d really like to do it again.”
Aside from Archie Andrews on the playground and Veronica in front of an audience, Betty hasn’t kissed anyone. She doesn’t even consider not changing that now, just leans over and lets Veronica meet her, the sound of their caught breath sheltered by the hum of the air conditioning.