A Werewolf in Riverdale

by Caleb Roehrig

  “Betty Cooper?” Her own name, spoken in an unexpectedly familiar voice, jarred her out of her thoughts. Turning, she found herself eye to eye with Ethel Muggs. “What are you doing here? Are you a fan of The Bingoes, too?”

  “I … yeah!” Forcing a bright smile, Betty directed her gaze back to the band, but Bingo’s eyes were open, and she was almost certain he was looking at her, so she turned back to Ethel again. “I mean, obviously—they’re amazing, right?”

  “So amazing.” Ethel placed both hands over her chest, cartoon hearts practically swimming around her head as she gazed up at the band. “I come to all their shows.” An expression of guilty pleasure crossed her face and she confided, “You can’t tell anyone but … he was talking to me. I’m the ‘very special lady’ he dedicated the song to!”

  Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she smiled ear to ear, and Betty’s heart dipped a little. Ethel was pretty and sweet, but she had a tendency to believe the best in everyone, and she wore her vulnerabilities on her sleeve. Meanwhile, Bingo was a known player, with a slate of angry ex-girlfriends that even included a few names from Riverdale High. Trying not to sound skeptical, Betty asked, “Wow, are you serious?”

  “Yes.” Ethel’s tone was indulgent and gleeful. Leaning closer, still shouting to be heard over the music, she confided, “Listen, you seriously have to promise to keep this a secret, but … Bingo and I are kind of a ‘thing.’ ”

  She giggled, lifting her eyebrows conspiratorially, and Betty tried to look excited. “You mean, like, a boyfriend-girlfriend thing, or …?”

  “Basically.” Ethel seemed to realize how this qualifier sounded, because she hastened to add, “We’ve been … you know, hanging out and stuff for a while, but he doesn’t want to make it official yet. There’s a record label interested in the band, and their manager says that they’ll have a better shot at getting signed if Bingo can tell them he’s single.”

  Betty nodded politely, but her heart dropped all the way to her feet. He could tell them he’s single no matter what, she wanted to point out; but they weren’t close enough friends for her to bring that up. And they were definitely not close enough for her to bring up the fact that Ethel’s not-exactly-boyfriend might be a bloodthirsty monster—and that Betty had come to the show with a gun in her purse in case she had to kill him.

  Turning back to the band, Betty watched Bingo sing softly into the mic, his eyes closed again, the melody dripping with heartache. Goose bumps made her scalp feel tight. She’d met wolves in sheep’s clothing before.

  “Oh, wow, Archiekins,” Veronica cooed, squeezing his bicep. “I can’t believe all these muscles! You must have been working out, like, all year long!”

  “I mean, yeah, I hit the gym pretty regularly, I guess.” He faked his nonchalance, flexing and stretching so the veins in his forearms would pop out a little bit more. “But that’s what you have to do if you want results. Nobody does the hard work for you, right?”

  “I admire that so much, you have no idea.” Veronica leaned closer, smelling like peaches and vanilla shampoo, and she fluttered her eyelashes. “Actually, I’ve sort of been meaning to tell you that I … well, I kind of think you’re cute.”

  Blushing, she bit her lip, and Archie’s voice cracked as he asked, “You do?”

  “Of course I do, silly.” She leaned even closer, her fingers trailing down his chest. “All I’ve been able to think about all week is what it would be like to—”

  Archie’s head hit the window and he woke up with a jolt, his eyes snapping open in hazy confusion as the dream dissolved. Momentarily disoriented, he looked around, startled to find himself behind the wheel of his car, his hands and feet freezing as the temperature outside plummeted. Reality came back to him immediately, and he shot a panicked look out the windshield … but the light in Jughead’s bedroom was still on. His best friend was still at home, and he slumped back into his seat with a sigh of relief.

  In the movies, stakeouts always looked cool and exciting, but all he’d done since parking the car was sit on his butt and stare out the window. He’d never been so bored in his entire life. Bouncing up and down in his seat, Archie slapped himself across the face a few times to clear his head. If he fell asleep again and more people got eaten, Betty would kick his butt up around his ears—and he’d kind of deserve it. Coffee was what he really needed, and he reprimanded himself for not thinking to bring some; but then again, coffee would make him need to pee, and if he needed to pee and couldn’t go anywhere, he would really be screwed.

  And now that he was thinking about it, he kind of had to pee.

  Digging through the glove compartment, reaching behind the gun, he pulled out a tin of breath mints—the kind that were so strong they made your face hurt—and stuffed a couple into his mouth. The fumes hit his sinuses like a blowtorch, and he gasped a little, his eyes tearing up. It was as he was blinking them clear again that Jughead’s window went suddenly dark, and Archie stiffened behind the wheel of the car.

  It was a Friday night, and way too early for the guy to be going to bed … but not too late for him to be going out. Automatically, Archie checked his phone, but his best friend had neither texted nor called. Under his breath, he pleaded, “Please stay home, Jug. Please, please, please stay home.”

  But as he watched, the bedroom window inched open quietly, and a figure emerged. Reaching for the drainpipe that climbed the side of the house, Jughead swung off the windowsill and vanished from sight. A few seconds later, he was scurrying across the lawn for the sidewalk, wheeling a bicycle beside him that he must have hidden in the side yard. When he cast a furtive glance up the block, Archie ducked down behind the wheel, until his eyes were just barely peeking over the dashboard.

  Apparently Jughead didn’t notice the car, because with one last look back at the house, he jumped on his bike and pedaled quickly up the street. A backpack was slung over the boy’s shoulders, hanging low, and Archie waited until he was almost out of sight before starting the engine and pulling out after him.

  Creeping along the curb, keeping the headlights off, Archie’s stomach cramped with worry as his worst fears seemed to be coming true right before his eyes.

  BY THE TIME THE BINGOES’ first set was over, Betty knew more about Ethel Muggs than she’d ever wanted to. She also knew more trivia about the band and its members than she’d ever known about werewolves, despite a lifetime of intensive education on the latter. Every lyric from every song seemed to have an important backstory, and Ethel would whisper-shout it as quickly as possible so that she could be ready when Bingo sang the next line, and a new piece of vital information would need to be revealed.

  The girl’s capacity for recall was actually kind of astounding, and if she could be persuaded to apply those powers elsewhere, Betty figured Ethel could probably complete a full law degree in about two years.

  “Okay, gang. We’re taking a short break, but we’ll be back on again in a few minutes, so stick around.” Bingo smiled into the crowd, his teeth even and white. “If you liked what you’ve heard so far, our EP is on sale, and you can buy a copy at the bar. And if you’re heading home, well, thanks for coming out and please tell your friends about The Bingoes!”

  As the lights shifted, coming up in the dingy bar area while going down on the performance space, Ethel turned to Betty with bright pink cheeks. “Ohmygosh I’m so thirsty, I feel like I’ve been talking your ear off. Do you want a soda, or anything? It’s my treat.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Betty said hastily, one eye on Bingo as he put his guitar back in its case. She wasn’t exactly expecting him to wolf out in the middle of a show, but she’d heard enough hair-raising stories from Elena to make her aware that nothing was outside the realm of possibility.

  “Please, you’ve been so nice.” Ethel took hold of Betty’s arm, tugging her toward the bar. “I know how I sound when I get started talking about the band. Midge came to a couple of their gigs with me, but then she stopped because
she said she couldn’t take it anymore.” With another embarrassed giggle, the girl shrugged. “She says I’m obsessed, and … well, maybe I am, but can you blame me? I mean, tell me they’re not great!”

  “They are actually pretty great,” Betty had to admit.

  “Right? And Bingo is just … I mean, look at him.” Ethel shivered all over. “Anyway, you let me go on and on, so buying you a soda is the least I can do.”

  Bingo was making his way through the crowd, shaking hands and accepting compliments as he headed to the bar, and so Betty allowed Ethel to tug her in the same direction after all. Still, with a minute frown, she said, “You know, you don’t have to apologize for finding something interesting, or for talking to me about it. I’m sorry Midge has a problem with you being a fangirl, or whatever, but, like … Midge is dating Moose. I’m not sure she’s got a leg to stand on when it comes to criticizing someone else’s taste.”

  It probably wasn’t the most diplomatic thing to say, and if Ethel repeated it at school, it was a remark that could easily come back to bite her; but it seemed worth the risk to put the girl at ease. Ethel really was sweet, even if she only seemed capable of holding a conversation about one specific subject.

  At the bar, Ethel ordered two sodas, trying and failing not to stare at Bingo the whole time. He was perched on a stool at the other end of the counter, talking and laughing with a group of people Betty didn’t recognize—and almost conspicuously avoiding looking over in Ethel’s direction. When their glasses hit the table, the two girls clinked them together in a toast, and Betty finally said, “You know, it’s a free country. You can go over there and say hi to him if you want to.”

  “No, I can’t,” Ethel said quickly, shaking her head. “I mean, he doesn’t want me to.” Seeing Betty’s reaction to this, she hastened to add, “I mean, record labels send undercover scouts to these shows all the time, and he doesn’t want to jeopardize a possible deal if they see him with a girl and realize he was lying when he said he was single.”

  Betty frowned so hard her face almost cramped, and she took a sip of her drink to buy a little time before she replied. “Did he tell you that? Because that doesn’t sound like a real thing to me. Guys with girlfriends get record deals all the time.”

  “I know, but it has to do with, like, packaging and marketing and stuff.” She made a vague gesture, clearly repeating something she’d been told. “They want to sell him as a heartthrob, and he needs to look like he’s … you know, available.”

  “Well, he’s sitting with some girls right now,” Betty pointed out, “and he doesn’t look all that worried about ‘availability’ issues.”

  Ethel glanced over and made a face when she saw the trio of blondes who were clustered around Bingo Wilkin. One of them sat a little closer than the others, her hand on the boy’s arm, tossing her curly hair with flirtatious regularity. Betty had noticed her during the show, watching the stage, taking pictures, chattering with her friends.

  A tiny thread of uncertainty creeping into her voice, Ethel stated, “Those are just fans.”

  “So are we. Come on.” It was a terrible idea, and Betty knew it, but she couldn’t keep herself from goading Ethel off her stool and leading her along the bar toward the boy and his “fans.” Elena would physically throw her off the planet if she found out Betty had approached a target like this, but it was already too late. “Hey, Bingo, nice job up there. You guys sound great tonight.”

  “Betty Cooper, what do you know,” Bingo greeted her with a delighted smile, as if he hadn’t already noticed her. The girls with him gave her a series of suspicious looks, and he explained, “She’s from Riverdale—she’s friends with my cousin.”

  “Oh, you’re from Riverdale?” One of the blondes winced delicately. “I’m sorry.”

  Betty couldn’t tell if she was being trolled, or if the girl was trying to express sincere condolences for all the murders and stuff, but she decided it didn’t matter. “Look who I ran into!”

  She presented Ethel with a little nudge, and the girl gave a shy smile and a wave. “H-hey, Bingo.”

  “Hey …” His brow crinkled a little bit, and he tapped the counter a few times like he was thinking hard. “Edith, right? You’re another one of Jughead’s friends.”

  “It’s … it’s Ethel. Actually.” Her voice faltered, her smile stretching painfully across her teeth, and Bingo gave her a disinterested nod before turning back to the blondes.

  Betty felt Ethel tug at her sleeve again, but she ignored the unspoken plea to retreat, anger slowly gathering in her veins. With a viciously bright grin, she leaned forward, interrupting Bingo’s conversation and speaking directly to the girl with the curly hair. “Hi, I’m Betty! I’m not sure we’ve met, have we?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Politely, the girl obliged, as Betty had predicted she would. “I’m Amber—I’m Bingo’s girlfriend.”

  And there it was. Bingo flinched as the truth was revealed, but Betty’s moment of bittersweet triumph turned all the way sour the instant she glanced over at Ethel. Pale and stricken in the overhead light, the girl blinked a few times before blurting, “G-girlfriend? I thought … you said …”

  Betty could see the exact moment the girl realized she’d been lied to—strung along and misled for weeks by a faithless boy who had exploited her rose-tinted trust—and tears spilled from Ethel’s eyes a moment before she turned on her heel and rushed out of the bar. Her heart twisting, Betty was about to go after her when she heard one of the blond girls mutter, “What the hell is her problem?”

  “I dunno,” Bingo answered, sounding utterly bored. “Maybe she has a crush on me, or something. She’s kind of a stalker, but I don’t think she’s dangerous or anything. My cousin says she’s just really weird.”

  Betty had to count to ten to keep from using his face as a bowling ball, her breath shaking as she drew it in through her nose. As calmly as she could, she said, “Hey, Bingo, make sure you ask the bartender for a towel or something before your next set.”

  Furrowing his brow, he asked, “Why would I—”

  Betty didn’t wait for him to finish before she threw the entire contents of her glass right in his face, the ice-cold liquid drenching his hair and soaking into his T-shirt. The blondes gasped and jumped back, and people swiveled around in shock, but Betty gave Amber a tight smile. “He’s cheating on you. Probably a lot.” Then, slamming her glass back down on the counter, she stormed out.

  The temperature had dropped sharply during the show, and her breath clouded the air as she rushed into the parking lot, looking around for signs of her friend. Guilt made her face hot as she remembered Ethel’s crushed expression, the look on her face as she’d fled the bar. All Betty had wanted to do was expose Bingo’s scumbag lies—to show Ethel that he wasn’t worth her devotion—but she’d bungled it. Even if it was better for the truth to be revealed, this had been the wrong way to bring it into the light.

  She found the girl at last, huddled under a tree at the edge of the lot, sniffling quietly and wiping her cheeks with her sleeve. Digging into her bag, Betty found a pack of Kleenex and held one out. “Hey. You need this?”

  “Thanks,” Ethel said dully, accepting the tissue and loudly blowing her nose. Her eyes were swollen, her face blotchy beneath moonlight dulled by cloud cover. “I’m such an idiot.”

  “You’re not—”

  “I am.” She wrapped her arms around herself, refusing to look up at Betty. “Midge kept telling me that he wasn’t really into me—that he was just u-using me. I should’ve listened to her.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” Betty said quietly, handing over the whole pack of tissues. “Guys like Bingo … they’re good at lying, they get a lot of practice. He knew what to say, and you believed him because you’re a good person and expected him to be the same way. That makes him the idiot, not you.”

  “And yet I’m the one crying in the parking lot.” She tossed a hand out and let it fall. “I’m the one who thought that,
for just once, something nice could actually happen to me. You probably think I’m pathetic.”

  “That’s not even—”

  “Will you take me home?” Ethel asked abruptly. Misinterpreting Betty’s sudden hesitation, she added, “Midge dropped me off, but I can’t call her. I can’t deal with her saying ‘toldja so’ right now. Please? You’ll have to go right through my neighborhood on the way back to your place anyway.”

  Casting a glance back at the bowling alley, the light-up sign flickering slightly, Betty chewed on her lip. She had to keep an eye on Bingo, but she couldn’t possibly explain why—and at this point, she’d look like the worst kind of friend if she pretended she still wanted to enjoy the rest of the gig after what had just happened. Plus, Ethel wouldn’t be so upset if Betty had just waited. Bingo might even have to die tonight, in which case all of his lies and secrets could have gone with him, and no one would have had to be hurt at all.

  It would take twenty minutes to reach Ethel’s place, tops; if she turned right around afterward, Betty could make it back to the Bowl-o-Rama before The Bingoes finished their second set. Letting out a breath, she nodded. “Yeah, of course. I’m parked over here.”

  Tailing someone turned out to be yet another thing that looked exciting in the movies but was both difficult and boring in real life. Especially when that someone was on a bike, and you were in a car, and you couldn’t let them know you were following them. Even at his fastest, Jughead was too slow for Archie to drive behind him without making his intentions obvious, so he had to hang back far enough that Jug was always just on the edge of vanishing completely from sight. It meant rolling along at an excruciating pace, and worrying constantly that he would lose the guy.

  It also meant that he still couldn’t turn on his headlights. The roads were almost deserted, which meant no traffic to blend in to, and he had to stay as inconspicuous as possible. It was fine while they were in town, the streets lit in brassy tones by regular lampposts, but when Jughead unexpectedly cycled past the city limits, rushing into the vast darkness of the wooded hills outside Riverdale, Archie began to get nervous.