Chapter One

Betty Cooper was falling apart. It pained her boyfriend, Jughead Jones, to see her this way. Even when he closed his eyes to her suffering, it stayed imprinted on his retinas like a nuclear explosion. When she limited herself to nail marks on her palms, he could at least convince himself things weren't that bad. Lately, the situation had become more serious.

That's why he crawled through her window that Friday night, using the ladder Fred Andrews had conveniently left propped against his garage. Jughead's stomach flipped as he ascended his princess's tower. He couldn't believe how far away they'd gotten from his first trip up here.

Betty sat cross-legged on her bed, clad in her pink pajamas, hair in that ever-perfect ponytail. A candle flickered in a jar between her palms. The flames danced across her face like music, casting shadows that matched the ones within her.

He sighed. Though her expression was blank, there wasn't anything strange or unusual about her actions. Perhaps he'd worried for nothing.

Right as he lifted his fist to rap on the windowpane, she plunged her left hand in the jar. The fire bit her, cruel as a venomous snake. Tears rendered her eyes lagoons. The candle slipped from her grasp. It landed on her comforter, alighting the cotton.

He clambered inside and threw his leather jacket on the flames. She continued to sit, silent and unmoving as the Venus de Milo, while he extinguished the fire.

"Betty, what the hell?" He fell to his knees, the carpet chafing through the holes in his jeans, and grasped her hands. Still, she didn't move. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

"It's everything, Jug. My parents fight nonstop. Polly's gone. And things with you and me have been a bit of a rollercoaster." The words splintered in her throat.

"I'm always here for you, no matter what's going on between us. You know that."

"You can't be here all the time. I need to figure out how to cope on my own."

"By burning yourself?" He stroked the pink spot on her pale skin.

"I just wanted to feel something. Is that so wrong?"

Jughead's heart fractured into a thousand pieces. He was no stranger to wanting an escape. It drove his writing, his association with the Southside Serpents, and his frequent self-imposed exile. What did Betty have? The River Vixens and The Blue & Gold? The former sounded closer to a punishment.

He cupped her face, drawing her toward him. She let his lips brush hers, but she didn't kiss him back the way she always had before. It was like a memory of yesterday, rather than the promise of tomorrow.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against him. "I love you, Juggie, but I can't deal with this right now. Tonight, I need a friend, not a boyfriend."

"Am I that friend?"

She rested her forehead on his. "Of course. I know I can tell you anything."

He stretched out her bed, pulling her head onto his chest. "Tell me, then."

That's what she did for the next forty-two minutes. She explained it felt like someone had wired a bomb to her heart that would explode if she didn't stay in a constant state of flux. That even when her friends surrounded her, she imagined she stood alone in a soundproofed room where nobody could hear her scream. That it scared her to say any of this out loud, to anyone, including him.

"I'm tired of being perfect. Of feeling like I have to be. Sometimes I wonder why I'm so anxious, anyway. My life's amazing."

"From the outside, maybe. Nobody chooses their brain chemistry, Betty. You should focus on finding a way to get better. Preferably one that doesn't lead to an arson charge."

She propped up on her elbow. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Jellybean's visiting. My dad and I are planning to take her record shopping. Want to come?"

"I shouldn't infringe on your time together."

"You could call Veronica."

"She and Archie have a…thing."

Jughead suppressed a gag. He'd rather not imagine what that entailed, yet somehow that was all he could see in his mind's eye. "What about Toni?"

"You mean to hang out with?"

"I hear friends do that sometimes."

"She's your friend, not mine."

"There's one way to change that. She likes you. At least, she would, if you let her get to know you."

"What do we even have in common?"

"Me."

For the first time that afternoon, a smile curled her glossy pink lips. Maybe Jughead was enough to bind the two girls. After all, Archie had brought her and Veronica together. And every acquaintance was a day away from an epic friendship.

"Tell her I'll meet her at the Whyte Wyrm tomorrow."

He typed Toni's number into Betty's phone. "Tell her yourself."

"Later. I'm busy right now."

"Doing what?"

"This." She kissed one side of his face, then the other, before pressing her lips to his. The current of electricity he'd missed earlier passed between them.

He pulled off the beanie that served as his emotional safeguard and flipped her onto her back. She dragged her fingertips through his hair, lips refusing to break from his. His pulse hammered his scalp. What had started as an awful night was now anything but. Maybe miracles did exist.

The door banged open, and Jughead knew there was no such thing as divine intervention. Or, rather, it was far from on his side. He sprang away from Betty.

Alice Cooper stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "I thought you were doing homework, Elizabeth. I doubt you'll find it lodged in Jughead's throat."

Betty groaned, straightening her ponytail. "Mom, it's Friday night."

"Why aren't you at Pop's like everybody else?"

"Because who doesn't want to resign themselves to a lifetime of diabetes and high cholesterol?" he said.

"Oh, Jughead, you are far too young to be that cynical."

"I'm not judging. My doctor says I have the arteries of a fifty-year-old man."

"Go hang out with your friends," she instructed them. "Maybe then I can rest assured you're not making me a grandmother for the second time."

"Third." Betty smirked.

"Don't remind me." Alice opened the door, waiting until they had both shuffled outside.

Forget their perfect moment. Once again, Betty and Jughead's attempt at privacy had been thwarted. They'd get there someday.

A knife twisted in his heart. Would he have lost Betty forever by then? As much as he wanted the answer to be no, that didn't stop a pinch of worry from plaguing him for the rest of the night.

Later, after many milkshakes and forced laughter, Betty once again sat alone on her bed. She scrolled through the contacts on her phone. Toni's name leapt out at her. Her pulse quickened. It's not like she had that much in common with the Southsider, whatever Jughead said. This had the potential to get awkward, fast. That was the opposite of what she needed right now, down here in this pit of anxiety.

Yet she should talk to someone. Somehow, it seemed easier to confide in a person she didn't spend every waking moment with. She couldn't care less if Toni judged her. Hell, she didn't even know Betty.

Plus, escaping the house sounded nice. Both of her parents would be home. That was bound to end in an argument, if not an all out screaming and brick-throwing match. A change of scenery couldn't hurt.

At last, she drew in a breath and shot off a text: Hey, I thought we could get better acquainted sometime. Maybe tomorrow?

Did Jughead put you up to this? Toni replied a minute later.

I do what I want.

My kind of girl. Come to the Whyte Wyrm at ten. I'll warn you, though, it won't be anything like milkshakes at Pop's.

Betty's heart thudded. This was the part where she backed out. It's what her mother would demand, if she walked in right now. Veronica would advise the same thing.

Molten steel settled over her bones. She'd played the good girl for long enough. Look where it'd gotten her. It was time to try something new. After all, there's no reward without risk.

I hope not, she told Toni. I'm ready for a change.

Loosen your ponytail, Betty. We're going on one hell of a ride.

Betty flopped onto the pillows, a smile spreading across her lips like a crack on the ice of Sweetwater River. She couldn't wait until tomorrow. Whatever happened, it certainly wouldn't bore her.