September 1991, school, sex, drinking, drugs, being the new kid, parties, death, pregnancy scares, homophobia, STD's, sports, fashion, parents, fights, abuse, cheating, just some of the turbulent challenges any regular teen faces in the quiet New Ha...
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6:45 am on Elm Street, and the Andrews house was as lively as ever, filled with light chatter and conversation between Arthur 'Artie' and Virginia Andrews and their two children, sons Oscar and Francis, otherwise known as Frank, while the other remained in bed.
The glowing sun was peaking up from the horizon, but the crisp chilling air still wafted through the atmosphere given that it was early October and they were in the Eastern Region of the nations coast, and it was this chill creeping through his open air vents that woke young Fred Andrews from his slumber, that and the smell of the fresh blueberry muffins his mother had just baked.
He pulled himself off up from the deep comfort of his orthopaedic mattress, groaning and stretching to adjust himself before swinging his legs over the bed and making his way to the shower.
Twenty minutes later, he exit the steam filled room, a baby blue towel wrapped firmly around his small waist as her ran his hands through his slightly damp sandy brown locks and slicking them back out of his face, choosing to neglect his blow dryer and allow it to dry naturally before strolling over to his large closet and picking out his outfit. Not like there was much variety or choice to begin with, he was a simple man, and was quite content with his plain t shirts, jeans and Chucks.
As he calmly strolled down the mahogany staircase, gripping bannister albeit loosely, he was met with the sounds of his parents in deep conversation and laughter, while his brothers quietly bickered at the end of the breakfast bar.
It was small moments like these he appreciated, just the casual behaviours of your typical American family. Unlike many of his peers, he was lucky enough to grow up in a fairly solid and loving home from birth, a luxury he knew not to take for granted given that many had rather different experiences, home lives and relationships with their families.
Did the Andrews have their fair share of problems? Of course, what family doesn't, but Riverdale standards, they were practically perfect.
"Morning sweetie." Virginia chirped as her middle son entered the room, rising her bowed head and shifting her focus from the cooking book set in front of her to look him in the eye.
"Mornin." Fred replied with a grin as he pulled out a seat, reaching for the box of multigrain cereal placed perfectly in the middle of the island and releasing the contents into the white China bowl on his placemat.
His attention diverted from his dining ware and food as a shrill like sound emitted from young Frank's mouth.
"Oscar pinched me!" The eleven year old shrieked out to his mother with a tightened scowl on his face, pleading with her to punish him.
Virginia abruptly halted her baking preparations, her eyes laced with vigilance before practically rolling them into the back of her head as she expressed a shame and frustration filled sigh. "Oscar, leave your brother alone!"
