by Micol Ostow
“No, Arch—none of us got it,” Betty said, moving to him and rubbing his forearm reassuringly.
“Yeah,” Ethel said, jumping in. “Evelyn had bought some stuff, different products, to see how she could tamper with them. We played around with different ideas, that night after the La Bonne Nuit party. Then she left them in the dressing rooms. She didn’t know it would be Kevin who used them! She just swapped out some of the makeup that had been stored in one of the dressing areas for her own stuff.”
“I didn’t recognize the brand,” Kevin said. “I thought you’d bought it, Ronnie.”
“I thought it was yours,” I said, feeling a pang of guilt for not being immediately more suspicious. One more passenger aboard the “should have known” train.
“And the bulldog that almost annihilated Toni?” Cheryl snapped.
“That we had to rig together.” Ethel looked miserable and totally abashed.
“Teamwork. Beautiful,” Jughead quipped. “Must be some of those down-home Farmie values.”
She flinched at his words. “Well, that’s just it. She said the pageant went against everything the Farm stands for—modesty, unity, equality. Her father insisted that she participate—and get all the other kids to participate, too. She was furious, but she felt trapped.”
“So she sabotaged the pageant, putting everyone in danger, instead,” Betty said. “Tell me the part about ‘unity,’ again?”
Ethel flushed and turned to Kevin. “I swear, Kevin, I didn’t know. It was … she just said she was going to add some detergent to the face powder. I read online that it would make you itchy, give you a small rash. I had no idea it would cause anaphylactic shock!”
“People could have been seriously hurt!” I shouted, unable to contain myself. “People could have died!”
“I know!” she said, gulping back another sob. “Trust me, I know. It’s over now. I promise you that.”
“Oh, it’s definitely over now,” I said, my voice low. “I promise you that. I don’t think you want to see what happens to you, if this doesn’t end now.”
“I get it. Of course.” Ethel was meek now. Chastened. “And I want to make this up to you, if I can.”
“Can you unswell Kevin’s face?” Cheryl snapped. “Unterrorize my girlfriend and my best girl? Hardly.”
“Okay, fair, but down, girl,” I said, trying to calm the tensions rising in the room. “She can’t undo what she did. But I’m sure there’s some way that Ethel can try to make it right.”
“Actually,” Betty said, her eyes twinkling, “I have a perfect idea …”
Unknown Number:
See you at the Motorcade?
Evelyn:
Tonight? I’m busy, you know. I have to help prep the canapes.
Unknown Number:
Fine, sure. But you’ll have a second to chat. After all, I know what you’ve been up to, and I know you’re not THAT busy.
Evelyn:
Fine.
JUGHEAD
It turned out, we had a few ideas of how Ethel could make up for her treachery and straight-up reckless endangerment of our friends.
The crux of our main plan? A good old-fashioned sting operation.
We’d set the trap collectively, and Ethel had dangled the bait. Evelyn really had no choice but to do what Ethel asked; when all was said and done, her partner kind of had a lot on her. And anyway, it wasn’t some kind of crazy huge sacrifice for her to come to the Motorcade and Music. Ethel had told us Evelyn was being encouraged by Daddy Dearest to participate in all the Revels had to offer; thus, it didn’t take much more than a few text exchanges to drag her to the Town Hall steps, right on cue.
It was six fifteen, and it felt like the entire town had gathered to hear Josie and Archie sing. In some ways, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the last time we were all clustered together like this—was it really only three days ago?—quivering in collective anticipation: the time capsule. And we all knew how that had ended.
Hopefully, tonight would be less eventful. But considering what we had planned, it was hard to be entirely optimistic that we’d escape yet another festive occasion unscathed.
Betty, Veronica, Cheryl, Toni, and I were huddled by a maple tree closer to the street. This way, we could still watch our friends perform and hear the music, but we’d be a little more discretely located when Ethel came through with her end of the bargain. In the meantime, we were enjoying a small, momentary calm before the storm, swaying slightly, vaguely lost in the harmonic melodies coming from Archie and Josie.
I’d heard them perform together before, and they always sounded good—they were both so talented, after all—but there was something … I don’t know, something special about their vibe tonight. They were in tune together—obviously, being as how they were musicians who were literally in tune with each other. But it was more than that … like being “in tune” on a whole other metaphorical level.
There was a kind of, I dunno, peace radiating from Archie as he strummed his guitar and leaned into his mic. The thing was, Archie hadn’t had much peace since his trial. So none of this went unnoticed by yours truly.
I was kind of hoping, though, that it was going unnoticed by Veronica.
I mean, Archie loves Veronica with, like, a capital heart-eyed emoji. Of that, there was no doubt.
But there was also no denying the chemistry happening onstage.
Thankfully, we didn’t have too much time to dwell on it. I heard footsteps from behind, and we all turned to find Ethel—and a very puzzled Evelyn—approaching.
When she spotted us, Evelyn came to an abrupt halt. Realization slowly dawned over her face, giving way to a look that was pinched and hardened with suspicion. Ethel gave her a shove, and Evelyn marched reluctantly over to our little group, even as her feet shuffled increasingly slowly. Ethel gave us a nod and headed in the other direction, having fulfilled her obligation.
“Come closer,” Betty prompted. “We don’t bite.” She smiled sweetly.
“That is, we won’t bite—if you have a good reason for having worked so hard to undo the Revels,” Cheryl spat. “And endangering the life of my beloved.”
Evelyn had the good graces to look appalled. “It was …” She looked around, searching for anyone who could rescue her from a Cheryl Blossom reckoning. But she was alone.
Good riddance.
“It was my dad,” she started again. “He was hell-bent on us Farmies participating in the Revels. The pageant. Even though it all goes against everything the Farm teaches about authority and equality.” Tears welled in her eyes, and next to me, Betty scoffed. “I guess …” She looked at Veronica. “Well, he said it was important to your mother that we cement our place in the community.”
“Do not put this on my family,” Veronica said. “You made a bad call. Own it.”
“I …” Evelyn looked to be at a loss. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, Her eyes shone with tears. “Okay,” she said finally. “I, uh, own it. I should have … I don’t know, I should have pushed back, when my dad told me to get involved. I should have been honest with him about how I felt about the Revels. Feel.”
Betty stepped forward, imposing, even in a pink suede moto jacket. “You could have. That’s one idea,” she agreed, voice low. “But you know, even if you weren’t up for that? You still didn’t have to straight up sabotage the pageant and hurt innocent people. You know that. What you did—what you chose to do—is sick and twisted. You could have just … turned the other cheek. I mean, isn’t the Farm all about love and kindness? Community?”
Evelyn looked away.
“Maybe the pageant or the Revels or whatever went against the principals of the Farm. But don’t tell me that sending Kevin Keller to the hospital didn’t do that, too,” Veronica said.
“You’re right!” Evelyn said, breaking into loud, hiccupping sobs. “Of course you’re right.” She looked at Toni. “I’m sorry. I swear. I’m so sorry. You have to believe me.”
“News flash, si
ster wife: She doesn’t have to do anything,” Cheryl snapped.
Evelyn’s cheeks flamed red. “Of course.”
“But I do believe you,” Toni said, reaching out a reassuring arm. “And … I mean, I’m not going to say it was cool, obviously. But we’re cool. I forgive you.”
“You’re just lucky my better half is so much more magnanimous than I am,” Cheryl said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“I know,” Evelyn said, sniffling. “I really do. And I appreciate it.”
“Wait,” Betty interrupted, fire still burning in her eyes as she spun around, looking at each of us in turn. “We’re just forgiving her—just like that? After all she did? After all her family’s done?”
“Betty,” I said softly, and I tugged her sleeve gently, stepping a few feet away for some semblance of privacy in the midst of the crowd. “Evelyn isn’t her father. And as much as I hate to admit it, this doesn’t really seem to have anything to do with the Farm.”
Betty opened her mouth to interrupt, but I continued. “I know everything that’s going on with your mom and Polly has been hard, and it’s not fair to you. None of it is. But remember, we promised that we were going to be methodical about this and not jump to any conclusions based on our personal feelings for the assortment of vile institutions in this town.”
Betty took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “You’re right, Jug. I just really thought—hoped—that it was all connected. That I finally had concrete proof that the Farm was as shady as it seems.”
I pulled Betty in for a hug, tucking her against my chest. “We’ll find it, Betts, I promise. But for right now, for this Revels mystery, it looks like we’re back to square one.”
Betty finally pulled away, and tightening her ponytail, she said, “Well, let’s get back to it, then.”
We rejoined the group, and Veronica and Betty appeared to have a quick, wordless conversation, at the end of which Veronica clapped her hands, taking charge.
“Okay, okay, well, it seems that all is forgiven—if not, I must say, immediately forgotten,” Veronica said, shooting Evelyn a sharp look.
“But I think we can forget, later. As time goes on. A redemption arc is a gradual process.” Veronica rubbed her hands together briskly now, leaning in to a topic change. “But let’s put a pin in that—because here comes the motorcade.”
I threw an arm across Betty’s shoulder. “Gentlemen, start your engines,” I murmured.
She glanced at me. “Gotta say, Juggie. If you’ll pardon the pun—I’m still all revved up.”
“I know,” I said, kissing her on the top of her head, dodging her bouncing ponytail. “Miles to go, Betts.”
Reggie:
Yo, dawg—you and Josie sounded pretty good up there before the motorcade last night.
Archie:
Thanks, man.
Reggie:
Looked pretty, uh, hot and heavy too. Serious thirst vibes.