The day before

Prologue

Jughead

Riverdale is known as "the town with pep!" But stick around here long enough, and you start to realise just how many of those pasted-on smiles are really only covering up a Narnia-sized closet full of skeletons. Sure, every small town has it's secrets. But even those of us who've grown up here, who've lived our whole lives in Riverdale, are shocked at what's being pulled from Pandora's box.

Trust me, I should know. Lately, I've realised that everyone I care about is tangled up in one Lynch-esque melodrama after another.
Riverdale's also a town of Rockwellian traditions: the midnight pancake banquet in late winter first leaving the Town Hall windows and vapor curling from our months when----if---- we dare to step outside. Or the Riverdale High School Homecoming weekend, a network TV- ready worship of the apex of Americana: football, dancing and small-town pride.

But my personal favorite- really, the only one that's ever meant anything to me-has to be the annual July 4th Summerfest Carnival. Typically, Betty, Archie and I would hit up the carnival together, stuffing our faces with hot dogs and cotton candy and testing our skills at the fuck tank ( Betty always did have the best arm). By evening, Archie and I would hit the road to check out the Centerville fireworks, Betty hanging back to catch Riverdale's display with her sister, Polly ( she never minded being the third wheel with Polly and- more recently- Pollys attached-at-the-hip boyfriend, Jason). The summerfest is just what we do. What we've always done. Archie and I started going before we were even walking, thanks to our patents. Betty  started tagging along around first grade. And it's been a thing ever since.
    Or, I should say: It was a thing.
Because this summer, everything's different. Bettys off in LA, honing her writing skills with an internship at Hello Giggles. ( Not to mention, Polly and Jason had an epic, scorhed-earth breakup par with The War Of the Roses.) Archies been busy working construction for his dad  .  .  .

Honestly, I haven't seen much of him lately. I don't know. Don't ask me about it.
Twilight Drive-In, trying to earn some cash, stay out of the house, and stay out of my dad's way, too  .   .  .

Meanwhile, while none of us knew it at the time, off in New York City, a young socialite named Veronica Lodge was carelessly living out her own personal episode of Gossip Girl, courtesy of her daddy, one Hiram Lodges bottomless bank account. Veronicas parents had history with Riverdale, but, hey-that had nothing to do with us.
Well, that's what we thought, anyway. The butterfly effect suggests that small causes can have unpredictable-and catastrophic-effects. One action. A cascade of ripples. An outcome no one can predict.
That's was us that summer. Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Me. It was July 3. The holidays stretched out in front of us like a broken promise. We were separate but intertwined in ways we'd never see coming. Small, stupid butterflies, blindly flapping our wings .

Hope you enjoyed the first part of the story. I will be uploading every week and if you have any questions please leave a comment and give great ideas for another story
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