Stiches |chapter 16|

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I woke up late afternoon by a phone call from Betty. "Hey Cooper, what's up?" I said, rolling out of bed. "Girl where are you? Everyone has been worried sick," she said. I started to get ready while I talked to her. "I'm sorry Cooper but I have to skip school for something to day," I told her. "Well I sorry to hear that..." Betty took a long pause. Like she was answering  someone's question. "Someone wants to talk to you." I could hear some rustling when she passed the phone. When I heard a familiar voice.

"Why arn't you here Evans?" Jughead said, seeming curious. "Am I on speakerphone?" I asked. "No why?" "I'm going to the hospital to get my cuts restiched. They say it might take all afternoon." "Well I'm sorry to hear about that," he said, trying not to act suspicious. "But I was wondering if you wanted to come to dinner with me, Betty, Kevin, and Veronica tonight?" He asked, kind of nervous. I was shocked.

"Yes of course," I responded, sort of fast. "I can pick you up and we can walk over. How does fourish sound?" "That would be lovely," I said. "Bye Evans." "Bye Jones." I hung up. I started to stand there for a second. The weird sensation went through my whole body. I thought it was anxiety bout the hospital but I've been to enough to know it wasn't that.

It seemed to happen every time I was around Jughead. My father took me to the hospital. Everything was going how it was supposed to. I sat in a hair of the ER and started to get stitches by a very kind doctor. But she was too chatty for my liking. But when a senior doctor came over to talk to me and my dad I just thought he was coming over to sign off the papers. But he lingered around, like he wanted to tell us something.

"Mr. Evans, Miss Evans. I would like to talk to you about your course of action. My fellow doctors have realized that there was pre existing scars on your four arm. They have healed up but this leaves me concerned with your mental health. If this actions keeps on repeating or of you deside to now... we recommend putting yourself in a mental hospital. Or a psychiatric ward. But it's your decision," the doctor said.

I couldn't really quite comprehend what he was saying. A psych ward? Do they think I'm really that unstable? My father argued with the doctor for a while, saying that I was perfectly fine and that I didn't need to be put into a 'loony bin' with the real crazy people. He kept on making excuses for why I shouldn't be taken away. They wern't really excuses if they were real reasons.

He said I was going through a lot and that I deserved to fall apart once in a while. His version of 'once a while' was every other weekend when my brother and I were with him. But the truth is that falling apart was frequent. Any possible time I was with my mother.

But back then, I had someone to fall part with. But it's hard to think I would no longer that's that luxury. Something about that just made the whole situation worse. Everything I know from before was all gone. Nothing would never be the same. I knew that now, sitting in a hospital.

It was kind of likw planting your favorite flower when you think about it. You put the seed in the ground excepting something good to grow from it. But when your flowers start to wilt sooner than you thought, it's starts to become unpredictable. I felt like that walking into Pops.

"The drive-in is closing . Is just now more nail in the coffin that is Riverdale... no forget Riverdale in the coffin of the American dream. And The Godfather of indie cinema Quentin Tarantino likes to say," Jughead said, ranting on about the drive-in. He was making too many movie references in the span of an hour.

"Please God no more Quentin Tarantino references," Kevin begged. It made me laugh a bit. I kept on picking at my new bandages because they wrapped all the way up to my hands. I wasn't used to that. "What? I'm pissed and not just about losing my job. The Twilight drive-I  should mean something to us. People should be trying to save it," he explained. "In this age of Netflix and VOD do people really want to watch a movie in a car? I mean who even goes there?" Veronica asked. "People who want to buy crack," Kevin explained.

"And cinephile and car enthusiasts. Right Evans?" Jughead said, he looked own at my hands. I was too nervous about what the doctor to really pay any attention. "Yeah of course," I responded. He put one of his hands over mine so I could fidgeting with the bandages. "Anyways is closing because the town owns it but didn't invest in it. So when an anonymous buyer made Mayor McCoy an offer she shouldn't refuse..."

"An anonymous buyer? What do they have to hide? No one cares," Veronica said. "I do!" Jughead said, raising his voice a bit. I put one of my hands on his. Like a sandwich. My hands bottom and top. And he's in the middle. "Also you guys should all come to closing night. I'm thinking American Graffiti... or is that too obvious?" Right when Jughead stopped taking a sip I lost interest. But when I heard my name. I just said the first thing that came to mind.

"What about you Evans?" "Yeah what Betty said," I replied. I started to blank out. Everything at dinner wasn't that interesting. But when Betty got up from the booth, and I saw who it was, I knew it was about to go down. "I'll be back," Betty said. I tried to grab her hand out of desperation. "No Betty. Don't," I warned her. "Wait what's happening?" Kevin asked. "What happening out there?

Do we know? Is it about me?" Veronica insisted. "I have a strong linking," Jughead said, looking over at me."And no. And also I'd let it go Lodge," I'd warned her. I didn't bother to pay attention to anything else, but when Betty drove away. I knew I'd just had to leave.

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