by Micol Ostow
Evelyn:
Absolutely. I am always happy to do what’s best for the Farm.
Cheryl:
Dear cousin, there was another incident. Or perhaps you’ve already heard from Archie?
Betty:
I only got broad strokes about both incidents from Kevin. Josie in a closet and then Toni having a near miss with that mascot in the auditorium?
Cheryl:
Exactly. Your strokes are less broad than you might think. Toni’s brush with bodily harm happened earlier today. We might have assumed it was an isolated event—a nearly tragic accident—but after hearing about Josie’s experience, we’ve reconsidered.
Cheryl:
Both would-be victims are fine, thank goodness. But I think you’ll agree, we can no longer pretend that nothing is amiss. TWO random incidents?
Betty:
Don’t seem very random side by side. I agree.
Cheryl:
Will you meet us at Thistlehouse for a calming mug of chamomile? TeeTee and I are here with Josie, we can fill you in.
Betty:
We’ll call V and Archie and be there ASAP.
BETTY
Dear Diary:
The plot thickens.
When we got to Thistlehouse, we found Cheryl, Josie, and Toni huddled in front of a fire, a cozy-looking blanket draped over Josie’s shoulders. Archie and Veronica were there, too, having beaten us to the house. (Kevin was apparently riding his adrenaline rush from his heroics earlier in the day to cram in some extra pageant prep—but far away from the school, at Josie and V’s insistence.) A tea tray had been set out on the coffee table with a pretty array of cookies, and Jughead wasted no time in scooping a few up in one swift grab.
Apparently, Cheryl truly couldn’t stop herself from offering a slight barb. “Funny,” she said, raising an eyebrow at Jug. “In times of extreme stress, so many of us actually lose our appetites.”
Jughead wasn’t remotely fazed. “Yeah, I heard something about that once.” He wagged his own eyebrows at her. “Wild.”
I shook my head, waving all the banter away. I took a seat in an overstuffed chair catty-corner to Toni and Josie, who was staring off into the fire vacantly. “First of all: Are you guys okay?”
Toni shrugged and nodded simultaneously, and I saw Cheryl give her hand a tight squeeze. Meanwhile, Josie turned to look at me. The flames from the fire made shadows dance over her cheekbones as she spoke. “I mean, physically, I’m fine. I was locked in, but I wasn’t hurt, not like Toni. It was just creepy as hell.”
“Well, yeah. And you think it was a girl who did it?” Jughead put in.
She shrugged. “I heard a girl’s voice, laughing. Does that mean it was a girl for sure? I don’t know. But who else would that have been?” She shuddered and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
“I just …” Archie looked pained, revisiting the memory. “I didn’t see anyone or anything out of the ordinary. I … obviously wasn’t paying attention.”
“Archiekins,” Veronica jumped in, “how could you have been? Not knowing anything was amiss, what would you have been on the lookout for?”
“Undoubtedly the same feeble-minded scoundrel who nearly maimed my TeeTee for life with that befouled bulldog mascot,” Cheryl spat.
“’Undoubtedly’ may be a stretch,” Jughead said, “but yeah, Betty and I are basically on the same page: Two random acts of sabotage can’t be random … or unconnected. It’s Occam’s razor: The most obvious answer is usually the correct one.”
“So the question is,” I said, “why? Why you two? Can you think of any reason why someone—a girl, maybe, based on the laughter—would have it in for either of you guys?”
“For both of you guys,” Jughead corrected. Both girls shrugged. Josie shifted in her seat, looking slightly uncomfortable for a moment, but she didn’t say anything.
“But also—what if the attacks weren’t targeted?” I said, considering it. “I mean, it could be that someone is trying to sabotage the Revels, and maybe Toni and Josie were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Well, places, plural.” I looked at them again. “Can you think of anyone who might have been wandering around, right before or after your … well, let’s call them accidents?”
They both shook their heads emphatically. “It was the auditorium, and people were practicing their pageant interviews,” Toni said. “I mean, everyone was there.”
“Okay, well, that narrows it down,” Jughead quipped.
Cheryl glared at him. “Excuse me, vagrant Philip Marlowe, but if you aren’t taking my girlfriend’s would-be assault seriously, I will show you the door.”
“We’re taking it seriously,” I assured her. “I still think it’s worth working under the assumption that the Royal Maple sabotage and the body in the Revels time capsule are connected.”
“Well, then—work under it!” Cheryl said, frustrated. “By all means. What are you waiting for, Nick and Nora?”
I glanced at Jug. He didn’t have any better answer than I did. What were we waiting for? It was easy—and dispiriting.
We were waiting for another clue.
But it didn’t look like any more clues would be forthcoming, anytime soon.
Betty:
Hey, V—you around? I would love to run a few theories by you. Maybe grab Archie, too?
Veronica:
I’m just heading to school to do a trial run with Kevin on his makeup for the pageant, can you meet in an hour?
Betty:
No problem. Ttyl
VERONICA
I glanced around the small backstage dressing rooms that had been cleared up to give students space to prepare for the pageant. It was a similar setup to what we’d had for Carrie: The Musical, which was amateur but doable—barely—but it cast a certain pall over the proceedings. If memory served, Carrie was the last time Riverdale had gone all-out to put on a show (excluding those featured at my speakeasy, of course), and it had ended in unthinkable tragedy.
At the rate we were going, the pageant—and indeed, the entire Revels—felt destined to head in the same direction. I hope whatever theories Betty and Jughead had in mind panned out.
“Well, this dressing room feels a little less ‘Miss Galaxy,’ and a little more Toddlers and Tiaras, if you ask me. But I suppose that in the words of everybody’s preferred wise old sartorial uncle, Tim Gunn, we can make it work.”
“Yes, yes,” Kevin said, grinning, “we know you’re such the urban sophisticate, Veronica. But this will be just fine for our purposes. Now come sit.” He patted the swivel chair next to his own, both situated just in front of an enormous lighted vanity mirror. The vanity table was practically buried, strewn with enough stage makeup to paint the entire cast of Wicked every day, twice a day, for its entire Broadway run.
“I must say, I’m excited to put on my face. Now, keep in mind: It should be dramatic enough to be seen by the judges in the front row of the auditorium, but still, and I quote, ‘soft and natural.’ That’s what all the ViewTube videos say.”
“Videos. You’re so cute,” I teased. “Fear not, sweet Kevin,” I assured him. “Need I remind you, you’re looking at a young woman who keeps Gwyneth’s own personal makeup artist on retainer for special events? Veronica Lodge knows all the tricks of the trade.” I arched an eyebrow. “My promise to you: This girl can contour circles around Kim Kardashian.”
Kevin swiveled his chair to me, jutting his chin out to offer me his face as a canvas. “Sculpt me as you will, my master.”
“With pleasure,” I said, flicking the vanity lights up to their brightest setting and grabbing a marbled silicone sponge. I squeezed out some foundation in one shade darker than Kevin’s natural skin tone and began to dab. The motion was soothing.
“It’s like connect the dots, but on your face,” I told him, smiling as I went about meticulously blending. “And can we talk about your bone structure? You’re my own life-sized Ken doll.”
“Flattery will
get you everywhere. I’m pretty easy that way.”
“Well, I assure you, there’s plenty more where that came from. Stay tuned.”
Once the foundation was thoroughly blended into his skin, I picked up an oversized powder brush. I dipped it in a pot of loose setting powder and began to sweep the brush over his face.
“These cheekbones, Kevin,” I said. “It’s a wonder you haven’t been murdered by a jealous competitor yet.” It killed me that kindhearted Kevin hadn’t yet found his OTP. In addition to being straight amazing, my boy was a stone fox. They say God doesn’t give with both hands, but Kevin Keller was the exception that proves the rule.
“Well, now you jinxed us,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Especially when you consider that there have already been two random close calls around here. And trouble always comes in threes.”
“Yes, yes,” I muttered. “I know Betty’s theory about the Revels. And there is a certain, unsettling logic to it. Not to mention, my girl’s hunches are usually right. But I think we’re safe, for now. Bear in mind, this is a beauty pageant, not ‘the Scottish play,’ and I don’t think there really is such a thing as a cursed production.”
“Not cursed,” Kevin started, “more li—” He stopped, abruptly, beginning to cough.
“Are you okay?” I asked, when it seemed like the coughing fit was intensifying rather than dying down. His eyes began to tear. “Let me get you some water.” I rose to do that, and he reached out to me.
“What is it?” I asked, starting to panic.
Kevin couldn’t respond, though, beyond shaking his head. His cheeks were turning a terrifying shade of red, and his eyes were going glassy. “Can’t … breathe …” he managed to wheeze.
“Oh my god, Kevin!” I jumped up and grabbed my phone, dialing 911 and sending out a silent prayer that I wasn’t too late.
“Hold on,” I begged him as the phone rang in my hand. “Just hold on, okay?”
His eyes told me he was trying to; he was truly trying. But just then, I felt anything but confident that this would all be okay.
Veronica:
B, come ASAP. It’s Kevin.
Betty:
What’s going on?
Veronica:
SEVERE allergic reaction to his stage makeup. Anaphylactic shock. We’re at the hospital now.
Betty:
Oh my god! Is he OK?
Veronica:
He will be now. Not sure what he was reacting to, though. Kev didn’t even know he had any allergies.
Betty:
Thank god he’s stable. We’re on our way. Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.
Veronica:
Archiekins, can you come to the hospital? It’s Kevin.
Archie:
Of course—Betty just texted me. I’ll be right there.
VERONICA
Archie, Betty, and Jughead must have chased the speed limit mercilessly, because they seemed to burst through the door to Kevin’s hospital room only seconds after I sent my last text. “Kevin!” Betty exclaimed the minute she set eyes on him. “Oh, god, you look—”
“I know,” Kevin said ruefully. “My face is puffier than Kylie Jenner’s lips. It’s a … look?” He smiled at us through grotesquely swollen features: His own lips were indeed a formidable match for the youngest Kardashian’s, and his eyes were nearly swollen shut. His neck was covered in red splotches. “There’s no way I’m going to be in any shape to participate in the pageant by Saturday.”
“Please, no more of that,” I shushed him. “It’s only Thursday, so who knows. But the pageant should be the last thing on your mind right now. I’m just relieved you’re okay. It looked really touch and go there, for a minute.” Tears rose in my eyes. I tried to keep them at bay, not wanting Kevin or the others to see exactly how worried I’d been, how doubtful that it would all end without serious, permanent bodily harm. “The way you went from okay to anaphylaxis …” My voice cracked. So much for stoicism.
“And you’ve never had any allergic reactions before?” Archie asked.
“Hives, once in a while, from a weird laundry detergent. Nothing like this, nothing life-threatening. The doctor said if the EMTs had been five minutes later in getting to me …” He trailed off, and I shuddered.
“Did either of you see anyone lurking around backstage around the time you had your allergy attack?” Jughead asked, pacing back and forth intently in front of Kevin’s bed.
I looked at Jughead. “No, definitely not. And I was on high alert after everything that happened yesterday.”
“Okay,” Kevin said slowly. “But, like, how would anyone have even known that I’d have an allergic reaction to … something? I’ve never had a serious allergic reaction to anything at all, in my life.”
“They didn’t know anything about it. The person who tampered with your makeup had no idea this would happen.”
We all turned in unison to look toward the doorway. And all our jaws dropped as we realized who was standing there.
“Ethel?” Betty asked. “Um, hi.” We all liked Ethel Muggs … but we were surprised to see her just then.
“Ethel!” Archie sounded more than surprised now. He sounded like he was having a full-on eureka moment. “You were walking down the hallway at school when I went to meet Josie in the music room.”
“And didn’t Josie say she heard a girl’s voice laughing outside the closet door?” I asked, putting it together. My stomach clenched as the pieces fell into place.
Archie’s face flushed in fury as he processed this. “She did. And—I saw you! We talked! I waved; you waved back.” Somehow, this detail seemed the most egregious to Archie. “Right before I found Josie locked in that closet. And you pretended everything was … fine and dandy—normal!”
“In her defense, there’s no such thing as ‘normal’ in this town, anyway,” Jughead quipped, then hastily sat down in a chair, abashed, when he realized no one was exactly in the mood for his sardonic bon mots.
“I know,” Ethel said quietly. She looked abashed, more subdued than I was accustomed to seeing her. “I’m sorry.” With a loud heave, she burst into noisy, ugly sobs. They seemed genuine, and Betty and I rushed to pat her back and settle her in a chair beside Kevin’s bed.
Betty shot Jughead a quick look. “Can you get Ethel some water, please?
He held up his hands, mea culpa. “Sure, no problem. On it.”
As he walked out of the room we heard a small collision, person on person, from the sound of it. It was followed by an indignant shriek. “Pardon you, street urchin!”
As Jughead continued in search of a vending machine, Cheryl burst into the room, Josie and Toni right behind her. Toni made a questioning face at the sobbing Ethel at Kevin’s bedside, and I mouthed a quick “We’ll explain later.”
Josie carried a bouquet of stick balloons that she set down on Kevin’s tray table as she kissed him hello. “How are you feeling, hun?” she asked. She winced, looking him over. “I’m assuming not awesome.”
“You assume correctly. Thanks for those, Josie,” Kevin said. “I’m looking forward to getting a better look at them when the swelling goes down. And to answer your question, I’m feeling better, now that they’ve got me on an IV.”
He propped himself up and tried to fix his gaze—the little of it he had—on me. “Veronica, I love you, but did you call the whole junior class?”
“Sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking we’d all be in this room at the same time, when I sent out all the texts. I guess it’s a bit much. But I knew Josie would want to know. I mean, that much was a given, yes?”
“I’m your sister now, guy,” she reminded him, “not to mention I was a target, too.”
“And since TeeTee also had a brush with the grim reaper,” Cheryl put in, “we all thought a sit-down was in order. However, it seems that this mystery may have already been solved.” Cheryl shot a withering gaze at the inconsolable Ethel, having clearly put two and two together.
Toni gave
him a smile. “Also, we wanted to see how you were doing, Kevin. Glad you’re okay.” She whirled to face Ethel. “No thanks to you, though, I’m guessing?” She crossed her arms in a vaguely threatening manner.
Ethel didn’t protest. “I am so sorry—to all of you. It was an awful plan. But—it wasn’t mine.”
“Really?” Jughead asked dryly, reentering the room with a bottle of water. “Because to the naked eye, it really looks like it was your plan. What with how you came in here and said you did it and everything.”
“No—I did, but it was—”
“Evelyn!” Betty interjected, her eyes lighting up.
Ethel nodded, miserable. “Yeah. Evelyn put me up to it. She wanted to sabotage the pageant.”
“Evelyn Evernever? Why?” Jughead asked.
“We saw the two of them conspiring the other day, when Jug and I were coming from the library!” Betty cried, equal parts shocked and livid. She looked at Jug. “Remember?”
“I do,” he said. He made a face. “I can’t believe it took me this long. We should have put it together sooner.”
“We were doing it—the sabotage stuff—together,” Ethel continued. “Well, I locked Josie in the music room”—Josie shot her a miffed look—“and Evelyn did the makeup swap.”
“She was carrying all that makeup stuff the other night, at the after-party!” Archie said. “Man, I knew that seemed strange! But I didn’t say anything because, I mean—whatever, she had a bag of lip glosses, it didn’t exactly seem like a federal crime.” Archie frowned. “Speaking of should have put it together sooner.”