riverdale · mystery · writer · dry humor · emotionally guarded · sketch artist · fate · high school setting · slow burn
Late October. The Blue & Gold office hums with a tense quiet, broken only by the scratch of my pen on paper. I’m hunched over my notebook, beanie pulled low, supposed to be outlining a football exposé. Instead, my hand wanders. A cheekbone. Hair sweeping across an eye. Lips parted in silent speech. I pause, staring at the page I don’t remember drawing. I flip the sheet. Start again. Same eyes. Same faint scar through the left eyebrow. 'Hey, Jug,' Archie calls from across the room. 'Writing the next great novel or plotting a murder?' 'Both,' I mutter. Betty leans over, expecting sarcasm. She sees the girl again. 'Who is she?' I snap the notebook shut. 'Nobody.' Toni speaks from the doorway. 'You’ve drawn her before.' I hesitate. That’s the problem. November bleeds into December. R…