Lifeline ((Jughead Jones)) 1

2

During the period before try outs, I had to endure the comments. Boys our age were not aware how much a few words could hurt a person.

"I bet she knows exactly what happened to her brother. That's why she is so quite."

"I think she killed him, this is all guilt."

Sitting right behind me and whispering was not making their conversation any less easy to hear. The more they continued, the louder the voices became. The more the words surrounded me. Suddenly it was like their words were a wall encasing my body and holding me in place. My breath was coming up short, getting trapped in my throat. Hands clenched on my desk, I dropped my head and closed my eyes, trying to control what was going on in my head.

"Cynthia." A voice began to cut through the invisible wall that had formed around me. Yet, it wasn't clear enough to stop everything completely.

"Thia?" It was a boy's voice.

"Thia, it's me. You're okay." Hands wrapped themselves over mine. Immediately the walls dropped. My breathing returned. I looked at him, the boy that I hadn't spoken to in years but hadn't lost feelings for. Jughead Jones. He looked worried. I pulled my hands out of his grasp, tears welling up in my eyes. I picked up my bag and began to run out of the class. Deciding against try outs, I moved for home.

I hated the idea of going to a dance. When my sister came in demanding that I got ready, I faked illness perfectly, resulting in her leaving for the dance and me leaving after for the diner. Upon entering, I saw Jughead look up, smiling when he saw me. I moved slowly to sit opposite him in his chosen booth. He was wearing his signature beanie, the last thing that I had brought him before I stopped speaking to him, and a dark hoodie. Contrary to what I was wearing for school, at this late hour I sported a hoodie that belonged to Jason, dark skinny jeans and my hair was pulled into a messy bun.

We had sat in silence for some time; him typing on his laptop and me slowly drinking a coffee. Archie rolled up much later than the dance ended, meaning something happened at Cheryl's after party as he was looking for Betty. Jughead sat up opposite me, watching Archie like a hawk, almost knowing that he was going to end up here. He cautiously made his way over to over table, and I moved under the table to curl up in the corner next to Jughead, sensing that the pair would want to talk.

"Uh, can I sit, Jughead?" It was spoken in a way that implied they didn't speak often. Clearly, I wasn't the only one who left when we moved up to Riverdale High.

"If you want." Archie sat down, asking Jughead what he was working on. I perked up at this question, wanting to know myself what the mysterious works of Jughead were. He glanced at me, before sighing, knowing he was going to have to reply.

"My novel. It's about this summer, and Jason Blossom," he said. I knew that Jughead didn't want to offend me in any way. Instead of hurting me I smiled at him. Jughead was an amazing writer and I wouldn't want my brother's mystery solved and written about by anyone else. In the end, I knew Jughead would work it out before the police in this town.

"Seventeen years old, and how will he be remembered? As captain of the water polo team?"

"The Aquaholics?" I asked, giving my input to the conversation. Jughead caught on immediately, knowing what I was hinting at.

"Considering how he died, probably not." I could feel our relationship repairing itself. We were becoming more and more like we used to be. Sitting in Pop's for hours on end in silence was our specialty. It wasn't because we had nothing to say, actually we had plenty to say, it was just because we enjoyed the silence. We enjoyed being quiet and doing separate things together. It brought us closer.

"No, what I mean is was he doing everything he was supposed to do? Everything he wanted. I mean, did he even know what that was?" Archie questioned Jughead. He directed his questions at Jughead but I was quicker to answer.

"I hope so, Archie, I hope to God that he did everything he wanted, had everything he wanted. But we don't know." With that said, I sat curled with my knees to my chest, facing the parking lot outside. Jughead spoke to Archie about him getting on the varsity squad. I refused to look at Archie. I hadn't listened to what Archie said, but when Jughead started speaking again, I felt obliged to listen.

"If you mean Betty, just talk to her, man. It would go a long way. I know I'm trying. It would have gone a long way with me." Still not looking at the boys, I felt a tap on my shoulder. When I turned I saw Jughead standing, Archie already leaving and J's hand outstretched for me to take.

"Time to get you home princess." I rolled my eyes at the nickname he gave me when we first met. On that day I wore a blue dress and a silver tiara in my hair. At that time, I was convinced I was so much more privileged than anyone else in this small town. I was sure that my home was a castle and these were all our subjects. Jughead had seen me playing on my own as my sister ran off and played kiss chase. Even at that young age, I believed that my prince would come to me, and if I had to go chasing after him, he clearly wasn't the man for me. So, when Jughead came over and started playing with building bricks with me, I began to view him as my prince charming. My slightly dysfunctional and unconventional prince charming.

"Still not a princess, J." I smiled, taking his hand. He pulled me closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, carrying his rucksack over his other. Jughead smirked at my response.

"You keep telling yourself that, princess." I laughed at his 'yeah sure' expression. It was the first time since Jason's death that I laughed. It wasn't fake and it wasn't forced. It was genuine. And that was down to Jughead Jones. My very own prince charming.

We awoke to the news of Jason Blossoms body being found. I stood beside my sister, holding her hand as we both shed tears for our brother. Despite our original plan, we had both failed. We failed each other; we failed Jason. Many town members were all stood around watching our police force carry his body, all wondering what had happened to our quite town. I had managed to lock eyes with Jughead as he was leaving the scene. I wanted to go to him, to feel comfort from his embrace but I knew my sister needed me. So, I stayed beside my sister, my twin, wishing to for time to rewind.

I think many of us, maybe the entire town had been hoping against hope that somehow Jason Blossom hadn't drowned on July 4th. That we'd come to school Monday morning, and there Jason would be, his sisters by his side with smiles on their faces. Or that we'd see the triplets in a booth at Pop's. But that was before the undeniable, irrevocable fact of his bloated, waterlogged body. A corpse with a bullet in its forehead and the terrible secrets that could only be revealed by the cold steel blade of a coroner's autopsy scalpel or the telltale beating of a guilty heart.