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"FORSYTHE PEDDLETON JONES THE THIRD, YOUR GRADES ARE GETTING WORSE AND WORSE EVERY YEAR AND IM SICK OF IT," my dad's voice echoes off the walls and almost shatters my ear drums. I stand still, my father was abusive, I didn't want to trigger him any more than I have. He slams my grades on the table in front of me, the trailer slightly shakes cause of his pressure.

I take a glance of my paper, d's and e's were plastered all over it. "What happened to the old Jughead?" He starts, I know this routine, every semester I hear the same speech. "What happened to the Jughead who stayed up late studying?" I roll my eyes, I didn't want to go through this again. "I'm sorry, dad."

"Sorry?" He chuckles. "Boy, saying sorry won't change these unforgivable grades, sorry doesn't change anything. I'm disappointed in you."

"Not like you're such an it boy," I mumble under my breath.

That's it, I've triggered him. His eyes widen, "what did you just say?" I keep my eyes shut, ready of the impact of him slapping me. It takes a second and I almost thought that he wasn't going to do it.

His cold hands reaches contact with my cheek, slapping me as hard as he could. I was used to this, nothing new.

"You disrespect me one more time, boy," he threatens while pointing a finger at me. He then stomps out of the kitchen and into his bedroom slamming the door shut.

I sigh, my cheek was heavily throbbing, it felt more numb than painful. I walk over to the bathroom mirror, a large mark was stretched out on my cheek. It would be gone by tomorrow, but it still looked hideous.

I play around with my hair, trying to style it so it could cover the mark, when I decides it's impossible, I put on my beanie to head out. If anyone asked, I'd just tell them that I tripped.

When I step out, the gleaming lights of Riverdale shine on my face, I've been told that the old Riverdale looked nothing like this, it looked less modern and more homely, until the great revolution, of course.

I wasn't alive when the great revolution occurred, but people say it changed Riverdale for good. For example, the rule 'one child only,' never existed, people were allowed to have as many children wanted. From that day on, babies were executed if he/she was a second child. I still remember vividly when they had executed my little sister right in front of my face. I still remember her bright eyes, her black tiny baby hair, her everything.

Sometimes I wonder if the great revolution was even a good idea, but it didn't do all bad. If we didn't have it, then Riverdale would be running out of food at an alarming rate, poor people would be dying rapidly, including my father and I.

I grab my helmet off the back of my motorcycle and strap it on meanwhile getting on my motorcycle. The motorcycle was old, but it meant the world to me, it was the only way I could escape from the hell hole I live in.

I rev the engine, deafening noises break the silence of the environment. Second by second, it seems as if I'm on top of the world, zooming past an endless path of trees, blurs of vivid green pass my eyes.

Finally, I make it to my destination, Pops, the only place in Riverdale that hasn't been affected by the great revolution.

"Jughead," a man greets me, "it's great to see you, where have you been?" I turn around too see an old man staring at me, I give my most friendliest smile. "Pops," I greet him, "I've been busy, I guess."

"Well," he says, "welcome back, I've been missing your handsome face." He pinches my cheek as if I was still a child in kindergarten. I wonder if he has noticed the large mark that covered half of my face, it would be impossible if he hadn't.

"Dear god, Jughead," Pops exclaims, "what happened to your cheek?" I look down to the floor, Pops was like a second father, one that actually cared about me. By default, he already knew the situation with my father, so it would be useless explaining it again.

"The usual," I grunt, walking towards a booth. He shortly follows behind me, "do you want me to talk to him?" He looks worried, as if he was actually my father, being protective over me.

I smile, "no thanks, Pops," I stop, "but if you really wanted to help, a burger and fries would really boost up my mood."

He nods towards me and walks behind the counter, at this point, three of the most popular people I know come barging in, Archie Andrews, Polly Cooper, Veronica Lodge, and Reggie Mantle. I roll my eyes, these people were typical bullies, picking on people who couldn't stand for themselves.

"Jughead Jones," Veronica smirks, I don't smile, instead I give her a death glare, something she deserved. "What do you want," I murmur.

"Woah dude," Archie barges in, "chill, she's just saying your name, big deal?"  Archie Andrews wasn't the type of person I would 'click' with, instead, he was the exact opposite of me, he had a perfect life, with a perfect family, and perfect friends and girlfriends. If I said I didn't envy him, I would be lying.

"What's up with your face," Reggie comments, "it looks like a brick hit it." The rest of the group laughs, I didn't find it funny, instead, I found it the exact opposite.

Instead of replying, I get up from my seat and walk up to the counter. "I'd like take out, please, Pops," I say, he gives me a friendly nod while he places my food into a plastic bag.

"Thank you, Pops," I speak with gratitude, "for caring about me more than my father does."

Before leaving, I hand him money with an extra five-dollar tip. Walking outside the doors of Pops.

I hated this, I hated how Archie and his clique could control me, and what I do, they were drugs, affecting everyone around them, and it sucked.

I walk down the steps of Pops, collecting courage to walk back in and just break out, suddenly, I get hit with a heavy force.

"Excuse me," I blurt out without thinking. Both of us falling on the falling on the ground. I look up to see a girl with blonde hair which fell down on her shoulders. Her eyes flicker towards me, they were a color which was unexplainable, the most gorgeous one of them all.

"I- I'm sorry," she stutters, "I- I wasn't looking."

"Who are you," I accidentally say, "I've never seen you around." She doesn't reply, instead she just stares at me, fear plastered all over her face.
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word count ; 1163 words
published on ; 22/11/18

Je hebt het einde van de gepubliceerde delen bereikt.

⏰ Laatst bijgewerkt: Nov 22, 2018 ⏰

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