the duff. ❨ reghead! ❩

CHAPTER FIVE

THURSDAYS MIGHT TAKE OVER as the worst day of the week. It actually made sense now that I understand. I was sitting on the steps at lunch eating one of the burgers from Pop's. The only good thing about my day. I was enlightened by what it meant to be a duff. Every group indeed had its own duff.

The rivervixens had their own duff. There was a duff in the pussycats. In the Bulldogs team there were probably multiple duffs. It was like arrows were shooting down from the sky to point at who was the approachable one. There was probably an arrow on top of my beanie right now.

There was no possible way that this was cool. These labels, they were stupid. Every label was stupid but these in particular were just– moronic. I may not be the Archie Andrew's of everything but that doesn't mean that being me, specifically Jughead Jones, was what it meant to be unattractive either. And that's just what I thought.

I couldn't give a damn about what other people thought of me but I didn't want these duff labels sink inside my brain. So the only way to get rid of them would be to— shit. I don't know.

After I finished my burger, I crumbled the foil into a ball putting it in the trashcan a few meters away from me. I looked to my right to see Harper Fraisure talking to herself. "I'm my own best friend" she said. Well crap. You didn't even have to have a group and you could still be considered a duff. I couldn't even look at the other students. I got up walking inside closing the door so they didn't slam. "Nice pajamas."

I turned around to see Emerson smiling at me holding a stack of flyers. My mouth went ajar and I swear I was going to say something. "I love X-Men. Wolverine is my favorite." Emerson adds. But it was like my vocal chords knotted inside and I just couldn't utter the words. He looked really pretty. He was wearing this tropical shirt with a cross necklace over it. The first two buttons unbuttoned so a bit of his chest was exposed. "Uh–I- um," I started. I was really trying too. Emerson smiled.

I pursed my lips. "Uh, thanks." I finally said. He laughed. His blue eyes fluttering. I walked off as fast as I could mentally face palming myself. This is yet another reason why I'm starting to hate Thursdays.

I looked behind my shoulder walking. He was turned around towards me giggling under his breath. He waved and I almost waved back until falling into an opening door. I could feel Emerson wince.

I was on the floor holding my head, slowly crouching up. I heard the sounds of faint whispers of a teacher and student. "Mr.Morano, I'm trying here. I really am." The voice sounded familiar. And Mr.Morano happened to be my global teacher. "Reggie, I'm sure you're trying but this happens to be the third test you've failed in the last month. I've talked with your football coach and I don't think you'll be playing this season." Mr.Morano said. You could hear a groan.

"Can't we ask what coach thinks. I know he needs me, I'm the best one he's got." Reggie states. Mr.Morano shushes him. "I've already talked to coach and he agrees. You need to step your game up," and then Mr.Morano walks off. I take off my beanie so Reggie couldn't recognize me as I turn around.

Reggie stepped out of the door looking towards my way. Then groaning sauntering off towards the boy's locker room. I sigh.

Football practice goes on and because I didn't have anything to do I decided to just watch from the bleachers. Hoping that no one was going to try to aim the ball at me just for laughter. I saw Reggie coming out, angry as hell walking towards the field. He was arguing with his coach and I'm assuming it was about the conversation that he had with Mr.Morano.

I tilt my head trying to predict what was going to happen until ultimately understanding that Reggie didn't win the debate. As he was now running laps on the track. I didn't know what was going through my head but that four letter acronym was running through my head and I was desperate to stop it.

I ran down the bleachers as safe as I could jogging to where Reggie was. I was running beside him, "hey Reggie, I have a proposition." Reggie glances at me before chuckling. "Anything that you're offering I'm gladly passing," he declines.

"Well just hear me out first. And can we stop? I have asthma." I tell Reggie. Reggie turns around panting, his hands on his hips waiting for me to continue. "You know what fine. What'cha got for me, Suicide Squad." I clasp my hands together.

"Okay, so, you called me the duff yesterday. Do you recall?" Reggie nods. "Of course, you punched me in the face you ass. I almost had a broken nose." Reggie complains. "Yeah, yeah. Well you didn't. And you deserved it but I'm not holding a grudge. On one occasion," I tell him. He raises his eyebrow.

"Which is?" He questions. I smirk. "I'm not a people person and I'm not really into anyone's archetype of what I'm supposed to fit into. So I need your help, Reg. I don't want to be 'approachable' I want you to change me into the datable one." There's a moment of silence. Reggie then bursts out laughing as if he's heard the funniest joke of all time.

"Wow, this is a definite low. I would have never thought you'd ask me this in a billion years." Well, yeah me too. His coach yells at him to keep going. Reggie tilts his head at me to continue running with him.

The tan boy with the dark hair continues to chuckle while he runs. "Okay, what do I get out of this? I mean look at you– wait, Jug, what the hell are you wearing?" He says gesturing to my clothes when he stops.

"A banana split. What the hell does it look like Reggie? I'm wearing clothes." Reggie widens his eyes in disbelief. "From where? Party City? God Jug, I can't work miracles." I stop him. "Okay, I get it." I gesture to my clothing, "not my best outfit. We all understand that which is why I need you help because I think I'm into this guy and I want him to see me as Jughead not some duff–" Reggie cuts me off. His eyes widened.

"You like boys? I mean I always expected it but I never thought you were, like, y'know.." Reggie trails off. I shake my head. Jocks. So typical. "Reggie, I'm not gay. I'm asexual. I like what I like without it having to be done in a sexual manner. I'm not a toucher. I'm a thinker." Reggie nods. "Well, okay. Gee, you do learn something new everyday."

"Okay, still though, what do I get out of this?" Reggie continues questioningly. "I fell into the door of the global department door today. So I heard your conversation with Morano about you having shitty grades. And you're in luck, because you're looking at a World War genius." I tell him.

"You can help me?" Reggie asks. I nod. Reggie looks around, really thinking about his options. I wasn't really fazed though because ultimately if I didn't help him, Reggie would be face to face with the football bench until senior year.

"Fine." I grin. "But I have rules and steps you need to follow." Reggie tells me. I was ready for anything. I shrug, "I'm guessing," Reggie smiles. "We're going to work on this," he looks down at my outfit once again, "Saturday at twelve noon at the Riverdale Mall. Don't bring the beanie." I gasp. "You want me to help you or not?" Reggie asked me.

I nod. Reggie smirks, "good. I'll see you there, needle-nose." I roll my eyes. "I'll have my notebook for you on Saturday."

Onto the plan of anti-duffing myself.

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