But I'm not lying about what happened to me. And Ethel's not lying. And proof or no proof, book or no book, I am going scorched earth on these privileged, despicable miscreants. You wanna get caught in that backdraft, Cheryl? Call me, or any of these beautiful, young, strong, intelligent women... slut. One. More. Time.
β I like the looks of that boy.
β The more handsome on the outside, the more rotten on the inside.
β Let's keep this simple, so that your preppy-murderer half-brain can grasp it. Take! This! The hell! Down!
β Okay, that high-toned bitch attitude may have worked on the betas you dated in New York. But you're in Bulldog territory. But please β fight back. You'll only make it harder on yourself.
β What the hell is a "sticky maple"?
β It's kind of what it sounds like. It's a Riverdale thing.
β No, Kevin, it's a slut-shaming thing. And I'm neither a slut, nor am I going to be shamed by someone named, excuse me, Chuck Clayton. Does he really think he can get away with this? Does he not know who I am? I will cut the brakes on his souped-up phallic symbol.
β Or we can go to Principal Weatherbee.
β About the coach's son? Who is captain of the football team, and Riverdale High's resident golden boy?
β Or I can expose him in the pages of the "Blue and Gold". Yeah, I can do that!
β No. Spoken like a true good girl who always follows the rules. Well, I don't follow rules! I make them! And when necessary, I break them! You wanna help me get revenge on Chuck, Betty, awesome. But you better be willing to go full dark, no stars. What do you say, in or out?
I'm back to being the shallow, toxic, rich bitch who ruins everything in her path. Which is unfortunate, because even though I only just met Betty, it really felt like we were meant to be best friends, like... like it was our destiny. And now... it's like there was this train that was heading to the rest of my life and I just missed it.
When my father got arrested, it was the worst thing ever. All these... trolls started writing horrible things about us. We'd get letters and e-mails saying that my dad was a thief, my mom was a clueless socialite, and I was the spoiled rich-bitch ice princess. And what hurt the most about it was... the things the trolls were writing... were true. I was like Cheryl. I was worse than Cheryl. So, when my mom said we were moving to Riverdale, I made a pact with myself to use this as an opportunity to become maybe, hopefully, a better version of myself.
β Veronica, welcome to the River Vixens. Betty... better luck next time.
β Waitβ¦ what? Why? Because you couldn't bully Betty into being a bitch?
β I need girls with fire on my squad.
β I know what you need, Cheryl. Because I know who you are. You would rather people fear than like you, so you traffic in terror and intimidation. You're rich, so you've never been held accountable, but I'm living proof, that certainty... that entitlement you wear on your head like a crown... it won't last. Eventually, there will be a reckoning. Or... maybe that reckoning is now and maybe, that reckoning... is me. Betty and I come as a matching set. You want one, you take us both. You wanted fire? Sorry, Cherry-bombshell, my specialty's ice.
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