Living the Dream

by Christa Roberts

  Who could that be? Betty warily turned to look. And there at table twenty-three were Jughead and Archie. They gave her a wave. Betty was happy and nervous all at once.

  On the one hand, it was nice to have two guys she was so close with show up while she was working. Betty knew they would be nothing but nice to her. On the other hand, she didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of them. The soda-tray-dropping incident from before had been completely humiliating. Pop had just laughed it off, but Betty hadn’t been laughing.

  She had felt like sobbing instead.

  “So,” Jughead asked, leaning back in the booth and stretching his legs out, “what do you recommend here? Any specials today?”

  Betty gave him an exasperated stare.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” she said in a low, measured voice. She’d rushed over to take her friends’ orders, assuming they’d make it nice and easy for her. She should have known that wasn’t in Jughead’s DNA. “Just order something, Jughead! Can’t you see how crazy it is in here?”

  Archie was laughing behind his menu. “Just get me a chocolate shake and some cheese fries, please,” he told her.

  But Jughead wasn’t giving up. “Are there any specials today?” he persisted, crossing his arms. His beanie slipped down his forehead. “I’m a growing boy, Betty. I’m pretty hungry.”

  Archie snorted. “Man, when aren’t you hungry?” Jughead’s never-ending appetite and amazing metabolism were well-known around school. No matter how much food Jughead ate, he never gained an ounce of weight. Jughead was still the same lanky, skinny guy that he always was.

  “Okay,” Betty said, whipping out her order pad. She began scribbling as she spoke. “One cup of homemade chicken noodle soup, one medium-well cheeseburger on an onion bun, french fries, and a soda. Sound good?”

  Jughead thought for a moment, then patted his flat stomach. “Add a slice of warm apple pie, my friend, and we’re good to go.”

  “You did bring your wallet, right, Jughead?” Betty asked, cocking an eyebrow. She had known Jughead for a long time, and not only did he have a huge appetite, he sometimes ordered more food than he could pay for. She wouldn’t put it past him to stiff her on the check.

  Now Jughead looked insulted. “If this is how you treat your customers, I might have to find another place to eat.”

  She did not have time for Jughead’s nonsense today. Blowing out her breath, Betty tucked her pen behind her ear and hurried to put the order in and then go to her next table.

  She’d just have to worry about Jughead’s finances or lack thereof later. Besides, if he can’t pay his bill, I can use my tip money and he can pay me back. “Miss? Can you take our order?” a customer called impatiently. Betty sighed and trotted over to the table. That is, if I get any tips.

  “This is it, Jughead. And I mean it,” Betty said, banging the bottle of ketchup down on the table. She had a lot of tables to take care of—but all she was doing was running back and forth for one of them: Jughead and Archie’s.

  “Jeez, testy much?” Jughead said, shaking his head as he unscrewed the bottle and poured a gigantic puddle of ketchup on his plate. “All I asked for was a bottle of ketchup,” he said sadly. “What a crazy request.”

  “Maybe if you didn’t use half a bottle it would last longer,” Betty said.

  She was definitely at her wit’s end. Soda refills. Extra coleslaw. Extra ketchup. Extra mayo. Food that was too cold. Could she bring another straw? And that was just for Jughead!

  “Sorry,” Archie mouthed as Jughead dug into his fries. “You know Jughead. I promise—we’ll leave a big tip.” Then he reached for Betty’s hand. “I was hoping we’d get to spend some time together this summer.”

  “That would be nice,” Betty said, though she wasn’t sure she was up to being “on” again with Archie. They’d kind of taken a break for the past few months or so. Dating Archie caused a lot of drama with Veronica—drama she wasn’t in the mood for. “I’m working a lot of hours, though.”

  “Text me,” Archie told her, raising his eyebrows.

  “Okay,” Betty relented. Veronica had texted her earlier—something about a cute guy she’d met at the mall. So maybe Veronica wouldn’t mind if Betty started hanging out with Archie this summer. She’d just take things slowly.

  “Hey, Betty?” Jughead was calling her. “Do you think you could bring me some of that chipotle mayo? That tastes incredible on the fries.”

  “I have two words for you,” she said tartly.

  “Sure thing?” Jughead guessed hopefully.

  Betty smiled very hard. “Big. Tip.” Then she stormed off.

  Chapter 7

  Veronica pulled her pristine white convertible with the tan leather seats into a shaded parking spot at the mall. Then she pulled out her phone from her bag and punched in Betty’s number. The two best friends hadn’t stayed angry with each other for too long. Life was too short.

  And so was Veronica’s patience with the way things were going at Belle Pink. She had worked every day for the past week—and she had spent each and every one of those days in the stock room. She had the split nails to prove it.

  “Hey, you,” she said when Betty answered the phone. “What’s going on?”

  “I just woke up,” Betty mumbled sleepily. “I was having a bad dream about spilling drinks on people.” Then she groaned. “Wait a minute. That wasn’t a dream. It really happened.”

  “I know it’s tough,” Veronica said. “But just think! By the time school rolls around, you’ll be rockin’ a supercool laptop.”

  “If I live that long,” Betty moaned.

  Veronica laughed as she got out of her car and walked through the crowded parking lot. She passed by the department store, turned left at the fro-yo shop, and passed the cluster of tables at the food court. Coming to the mall to work every day had quickly started to feel like her everyday routine. But that was why she absolutely had to change the way she spent her day. “Gotta go, cupcake. Text me later, ’kay?” She clicked off her phone and tossed it in her canvas bag.

  “I’ve got to prove to Jane what an asset having me on staff really is,” Veronica said to herself. She had taken great pains to look trendy and cool every day. Today she had on a sleeveless black silky top, except she—trendsetter that she was—was wearing it as a dress, along with textured stockings and high-heeled ankle booties. She had to admit—she looked exquisite.

  Filled with determination, she strode in the entrance. “Bonjour!” she said to one customer. “Ahh, très jolie,” she said to two middle school–aged girls who were trying on some scarves. Jane gave her a wave from the cash register.

  “Hello, everyone,” she said cheerfully, walking into the backroom. “Everyone” consisted of one other person: Lola. As usual, she looked totally humdrum: gray T-shirt, black skirt, black ballet flats, tiny stud earrings, and no makeup.

  “So today Jane thought you should spend the day with me on the sales floor,” Lola told her, blinking.

  “Really? That’s so awesome!” Veronica squealed. She put on her name tag. “Let’s get out onto the floor and make some fashion happen!”

  The two girls walked toward the front of the store. “You get to fold clothes today while I help customers,” Lola explained.

  Veronica skidded to a stop. “I ‘get’ to fold clothes?” She frowned. “I don’t really think that’s fair. Can’t we both help customers?” Veronica knew that if she was only given a chance, she could sell a ton of clothes at Belle Pink—and make Riverdale an even more fashionable place to live.

  Lola shook her head. “At Belle Pink it’s important that employees work at every job so that they have an understanding and appreciation of all the responsibilities here.”

  “Oui, oui,” Veronica snapped, walking over to a table of T-shirts. It looked like a small tsunami had blown through. Automatically Veronica started folding. This is kind of scary, she thought. I can actually do this without even thinking about it now. I’ve pract
ically turned into a robot!

  Then she had an idea. Just because she was folding clothes didn’t mean she couldn’t still help customers. She would just have to be a little more outgoing and creative about it, that was all.

  “Those scarves are cute on you, but you know what would be cuter?” Veronica called over. “Those hats that are on the rack over by the wall.”

  “Do you think so?” one of the girls asked. “We weren’t sure.”

  “Oh, definitely.” Veronica nodded. “They can totally take an okay outfit to amazing.”

  The girls hurried over to the hats as Veronica smiled to herself.

  “Excuse me, do you have this in my size?” a woman asked, holding up a tiny empire-waist blouse.

  Veronica shook her head. “That blouse doesn’t come in your size,” she said.

  “It doesn’t?” The woman looked confused.

  Veronica gave the woman a warm, friendly smile. “That top is better for teenagers. A woman of your age needs something a little more . . . sophisticated.”

  “Um, Veronica?” Lola had materialized at her side. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “I wish I could, but I’m kind of busy,” Veronica said sweetly. “Now how about this?” she asked, turning back to the customer. She held up a more age-appropriate top. “This is guaranteed to make you look like a million bucks.”

  “Well . . . I guess I’ll try it,” the woman said, taking the shirt from Veronica. “But I still liked the first one.”

  Veronica shrugged. “It’s up to you, of course. But I think you’ll thank me later.”

  “Veronica!” Lola hissed as the woman continued to browse. “You can’t talk to customers like that. At Belle Pink—”

  “We want to help every customer look her best, right?” Veronica stared fixedly at her. “So that’s what I’m trying to do while I fold all these beautiful T-shirts.” She gave Lola a bright smile and kept on folding.

  When her lunch break came, Veronica could hardly believe it. Her shift had flown by! It was definitely a lot more rewarding to help customers find the right clothes than it was opening boxes. Of course, she had hurt a few people’s feelings. She didn’t mean to, but it wouldn’t really be all that helpful of her to let customers try on and maybe even purchase things that were unflattering.

  “I mean, I’m just saying that skinny jeans are not your friend,” she had told one girl, sending her scurrying for the dressing room with a pair of flattering flares. “Would you really want to let people see you in a blouse that’s that low-cut?” she had asked a woman who was old enough to be her mother. “I think not.”

  “Honesty is the best policy,” she had huffed to Lola each time she’d tried to stop her.

  “Not if it’s losing us customers,” Lola had retorted as two girls walked quickly out of the shop after Veronica told them their hips were too wide for the dresses they were looking at.

  Veronica simply shrugged. “I won’t be responsible for fashion disasters on the streets of Riverdale,” she whispered as Lola walked away. “I’d rather wear last season’s styles than do that!”

  “Today you’re going to do something a little different,” Lola told Veronica. It was the next day, and Veronica and Lola were back on the selling floor. “Today, you’re going to change the mannequins in the front of the store.”

  Veronica’s eyes lit up. That sounded right up her alley—much better than opening boxes and steaming clothes. Being original, taking fashion risks—that was what she excelled at.

  “That sounds so cool,” she told Lola. “I love expressing myself creatively.” Her mind was a blur of design ideas. “We could use those cute skirts that came in yesterday with tank tops . . . or do a total season mismatch—like sweaters with shorts and fur coats with flip-flops. That would totally catch people’s eyes!”

  Lola had been holding a clipboard with papers attached. She held it out. “That sounds interesting, but you won’t be doing that. At Belle Pink it’s important to follow the planogram. That way all Belle Pink stores are the same, no matter if you’re in Riverdale or New York City.”

  “The planogram?” Veronica repeated. “What’s that?”

  “It’s your new bible.” Lola shoved it into Veronica’s hands. “This diagram details what clothes are to go on the mannequins—nothing is left to chance. Every Belle Pink store has the same number of mannequins at the front, and they are all wearing the same things. Right down to the jewelry,” Lola finished, a satisfied smile on her face.

  Veronica was anything but. She frowned. “I have to follow a plan to dress a mannequin? Where’s the fun in that?”

  She thought back to when she was a little girl, playing dress-up with Betty and their dolls. They’d put on berets and capes and borrow her mother’s high heels . . . they’d looked ridiculous, but it had kept them entertained for hours. Even the memory still made her smile.

  “There are just way too many rules here,” Veronica said, staring at the planogram. She could feel her shoulders slump. “You’re taking the fun right out of fashion.”

  “I’m sorry,” Veronica said as she buttoned up a pink shirt on the mannequin. “I know you’d much rather be wearing a sequined little tank top and a cute miniskirt, but that’s not on the planogram, so we can’t do it!” She patted the mannequin’s stiff, white arm. “Don’t worry, though. You only have to wear this for one week.” Veronica had been surprised to see that not only were there specific things the mannequins had to wear, but there were even dates that spelled out how long they had to wear things and when they got to change.

  “And that’s someone’s job,” she muttered, shaking her head. She stole a glance back into the store. Lola was helping a girl find a pair of jeans.

  I just know she’s jealous of me, Veronica thought, moving over to the next mannequin. She’s definitely threatened by someone with such originality.

  Suddenly her eyes widened. There, across the way in the computer store, was Liam! She had seen him only once since that day with Kevin—and he’d been so busy helping a customer that she’d given up trying to catch his attention.

  Today, though, he was looking right at Veronica.

  She waved and he waved back. “Ooh, you are such a cutie pie!” Veronica said. He had on the store outfit—the khakis and the green T-shirt—but the way he tucked his hair behind his ears combined with his uneven smile—it was just so adorable.

  Veronica loved having an audience. She began dressing mannequin number two, slipping a blue bandage dress over her head. “Girl, you are going to drive the boys crazy with this one,” she said as if she were having a real conversation. When she looked over at Liam, he was laughing.

  Veronica laughed, too. Flirting was so much fun!

  She studied the planogram. “Now, it says here that you’re supposed to wear sunglasses and a scarf. But there’s no reason the scarf can’t be wrapped around your head turban style, now is there?” She styled the mannequin as outrageously as she could, moving the mannequin’s arms so it looked like it was waving at Liam. Then she snuck a peek at Liam. Sure enough, he was watching her.

  He shook his head. “You’re crazy!” he mouthed, grinning.

  Veronica gave him a happy shrug. Mannequin number three was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. “There isn’t a funky hat or platform sandals in the planogram for you . . . but who says we can’t add them?” she asked, covering the mannequin’s jet-black hair with a red fedora.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on up here, but remember, Veronica, you have to follow the planogram,” Lola said, marching over to her. Her face looked pinched and annoyed as she reached out and yanked the fedora off the mannequin’s head.

  Veronica groaned inwardly. It was like Lola had a sixth sense for when someone else was having a good moment. Oh my goodness! It looks like Veronica Lodge is having fun at her job! I must put a stop to it! She looked over at the computer store, but Liam had disappeared.

  Lola waved the planogram under her nose. “The planogra
m is a proven formula to increase customer purchases.”

  “Yes, I vaguely remember you saying that before,” Veronica said morosely, but her sarcasm went right over Lola’s head.

  “Miss? Excuse me?” Veronica turned around to see a thirtysomething woman who looked vaguely familiar standing there.

  “May I help you?” Lola interjected, stepping in front of Veronica.

  To Veronica’s surprise, the woman motioned Lola to step aside. “I came to talk to her,” she said, pointing at Veronica. “Or, more accurately, to thank her. You,” she corrected, smiling at Veronica.

  “Me?” Veronica asked.

  The woman nodded. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I was in here the other day. I tried on a strapless brown dress with a matching sweater.”

  Veronica nodded in recognition. “Oh, yes. I remember you. I told you that the dress made you look—oh, how did I describe it?”

  “Like a stuffed sausage,” the woman replied.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Veronica said as Lola let out an audible gasp. “It’s all coming back to me.”

  “I’m so sorry—,” Lola began.

  “I wanted to thank you for telling me that,” the woman said, reaching out to clasp Veronica’s hand. “I buy a lot of clothes in expensive stores, but no one has ever had the guts to tell me that something I liked didn’t look good on me. You’re the first salesperson to tell me the truth about how I looked. And you know what? You were right. That dress didn’t make me look good.”

  Veronica blushed. “Maybe stuffed sausage was a little harsh.”

  “No, no, you were right,” the woman insisted. “It hurt my feelings, but you know, I think I needed that. I went home and thought about what you said about what would look good on me, and I came back today and found three dresses that really do work for my body type. And it’s all because of you.”

  Tears sprung from Veronica’s eyes as she impulsively reached out and hugged the woman. “Those dresses are perfect for you,” she said, stepping back to look at them. “Please. Let me walk you to the cash register.” A happy glow filled Veronica’s heart. This is what fashion was all about—connecting customers with styles that work for them.