#but its always true and always helpful i think. whether its hugging or pretzeling

[evercelle]

I hope you dont mind but, you're very good at drawing two people blending together, do you have any advice or tips for drawing something as simple as hugs?

use references!!! and when you draw figures interacting closely, some (or lots) of the body will get covered up by the other, but i think it really helps with posing to draw the complete figure. being able to see the whole form helps u gauge the 3d space the body occupies and how it should rest on/push/pull/interact with other objects

and from a composition standpoint, i think being able to break up each element and see its whole shape makes it easier to decide what to stylize or keep, and where it's OK to bend or break anatomy haha

[ironwoman18]

This is a One shot about episode 15x04 "Saturday" with some inside of Spencer's past with some women he met.

Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own the show Criminal Minds or its characters, I just use them to imagine I'm a writer.

Paring: Spencer Reid/ Maxine 'Max' Brenner.

A New Hope

Spencer Reid had always been to busy with the reading, his work or getting more knowledge, he never looked for girls to hang out like Derek.

Of course he liked to check girls out but he was more subtle.

His first kiss was with a girl he had to protect, Lila, she was beautiful but he could not imagine him dating her, she was his job.

He never looked for an open relationship, until he met JJ fifteen year ago, she woke up that part of him that was sleeping for twenty-four years. His desire to feel loved by a woman. The problem was she did not let him past the friend zone and he gave up.

Years passed by and he met a woman who was willing to fall in love with him, Maeve, an intelligent woman who shared his love for science, poetry and literature. A match made in heaven. But there was a problem, she had a stalker, at first they thought this was an ex boyfriend but it ended up being a woman who was jealous of her success and anger because she rejected her thesis.

Diane killed herself and Maeve with the same bullet in front of him. He was losing faith in finding someone to love. He has a busy life and never had time for going out with girls.

Later he went to prison, where he realized how important was freedom and he discovered his own darkness.

When his team got him out of prison his empathy level were higher and it made him an even better profiler.

But his time in prison was all Catherine Adams' fault. She had a partner that gave him drugs and made him look like he killed the doctor he had to meet with. Her plan was to make him realized his dark side. She had success but also made him realize he will not fall in there anymore.

He even added a second gun wrapped around his ankle.

However when he thought he found peace and everything was normal again. There was a case where the unsub liked to play Truth or Dare with his victims, making them kill someone or he will kill there loved ones.

He and JJ were his hostages along with a judge and the cashier of the store they were in.

JJ took the judge's place and played when him. He asked her to tell him her deepest secret. She looked at him and dropped the bomb.

"I had always loved you" JJ says with tears in her eyes. He could not tell if it was because the tension of their situation or because she was ashamed of her confession.

This made him very confused. He always found her beautiful and had a crush on her but he gave up when they all discovered she was dating Will. JJ was his platonic love and bestfriend. He never thought she might feel the same.

When she confessed her love for him, it was a confirmation that every look, every worried moment, every hug, every tear were not because they were just friends.

Everything was uncomfortable between them since then. They found each other to look at the other when the other was distracted or were clumsy around the other. Emily sent them to investigate crime scenes together or check on dead bodies and you could feel the tension between them.

When Everett Lynch's daughter shot her and he discovered her some minutes after that, she had lost a lot of blood. He called for an ambulance and they took her to the hospital. He just prayed to whoever was up there for her to get better and to not let her die - even though he was not a religious man.

When Will said she woke up, he sighed, relieved she was alright. He got the chance to talk to her alone and she confirmed she loved him but also her husband and kids. She was sorry she had to said so and made things to complicate for them.

They could not be together and that broke his heart but he understood that and does not say anything else. He then had to go to her mother's care hospital and found out she was lucid, just like she was when he was a kid. It was not something permanent but they will be able to enjoy it until the Alzheimer and the schizophrenia hit her again and maybe she will never return to her true self again.

That day he decided to talk to her about JJ and her confession, his feelings for her and asked what to do. Diane gave her son an advice he hated but was the right one. He needed to move on and look for someone else. She was married and had a beautiful family, and he needed that to but not with her.

After that he decided to look for help so he looked for a psychologist to help him. He had a nightmare at his work place when a man with an axe attacked him and his coworkers.

The therapist told him to find someone out of work to have a normal conversation. He was reluctant at first but at the end he accepted the homework.

That's when he realized he did not know how to talk to normal people about normal things. He could talk to unsubs, to witnesses or the family of the victims but could not talk with others out of work.

Then Sammy, a twelve years boy, arrived to him saying his scarf was weird and so was his hair cut. His aunt, a pretty woman, was searching for him and when she saw him talk to this stranger man, she freaked out.

Her car was getting a ticket and taken away, which caused Sammy to had a panic attack. Spencer decided to perform a magic trick and the boy immediately calm down.

Max was impressed by that but still does not thrust him. When she planned to take Sam to the park and call his mother to pick them up, her nephew asked Spencer to join them.

They did not want to but Sammy insisted so they made an agreement of not names or personal information and when her sister picked up the kid they will go separate ways.

However, she first told him she had a degree in art history but ended up teaching third graders at and doing turkeys with their hands. He opened up and told her about his assignment to talk to "normal people" about "normal things" which was something new to him. But when he was about to tell her about the dream she stopped him saying it was to personal.

Then her sister arrived to take her son and then played to be cupid with them. He discovered her name was Maxine, but she preferred Max. When her sister told him she was single he noticed her blush.

When they were about to take separate ways she asked about his dream. So they both went to buy a pretzel and to talk about it. He told her some stressful situations in the past few weeks and she just understood that maybe his work was really stressful.

They talked about trust and what she thought of him and her nephew. He just realized he had not profile her or her nephew, he was just Spencer Reid talking to a nice and beautiful woman about his job but into gory details or something like that. He was relaxed.

He was so relaxed that she tricked him and pushed in to the sprinklers which made him to pick her up and runs into them so she also got wet with the water. They laughs and had fun.

She took him to a store close to the coffee shop to buy some clothes so they do not hey sick.

Then he got a text telling him Kristy was in labor and he had to leave Max. Which made him feel disappointed

"I think I should... go" she also felt disappointed then he added "I know we said no names or numbers but I would like to do this again, preferably with... you" she just smiled at that.

"What do you do for the FBI? for real"

"I'm a profiler, I found people using psychology"

She smirks looking at him "good, find me" then she leaves him with a smile.

Spencer went to the hospital and when he arrived his coworkers were already on their way to the room when the baby was in.

He found JJ and she was surprised by his clothes and she asked about it

He said "I just... had a conversation"

JJ smirked and looked at him "just a conversation huh? Well whoever this conversation was with. It put a smile on your face that I didn't see in a long long time" he was a little embarrassed of talking about his love life, especially with her after she confessed she loved him. Then JJ looked at the room where everyone was heading and then back to him "so you know there's only so many people that can fit in that delivery room so..."

"Oh yeah, yeah I should just say hello to the baby" he said looking at JJ.

"And you will, you know in a week from now. And the baby will still be a baby and we'll have two very tired parents that will want some help" she was making excuses and making it clean he could leave without any worry because the baby with still be there for him to meet.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah..." he smiles slightly and he doubted whether to leave or not until she said "go" he turned with a big smile and ran out the hospital.

JJ looked at him leaving and smiled. She loved him and wanted the best for him. She had a mix of emotions because she wanted him happy and that makes her happy but also she was sad because she was not the one who give him his happiness.

She saw him evolve into this more secure young man who just met a woman that made him feel happy. And she will make sure he never lose her. Whether they ended up being a couple or just friends.

When Spencer arrived to the park he left Max. He started to look for her. Then suddenly he saw her with her regular clothes back on and with coffee. He smiles and so did she then Max said "took you long enough"

He walks to her and they both walk away talking. That night the journey of Spencer and Maxine started. At first it was just an assignment for him and now they both have a new hope and the future ahead.

OOooOOooOO

Well this story was first wrote in Spanish, by me by the way, but someone asked me to translate it and here it is.

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Look in Her Eyes- Chapter 23

***While on a case, Dean and Sam meet a beautiful woman, Ava. She makes a large impression on the brothers, and ends up convincing them to take her on the road with them. It isn’t long before the shared experience, car rides, motel rooms, and risky cases pushes Ava and Dean together in an unlikely story of love, family, fate, and friendship. ***

Chapter Twenty-Three, Time

Ava

"Why do they call it morning sickness if it happens all damn day?" I asked. We were in the bathtub in the master bathroom at Bobby's house. It was a small tub that was filled with bubbles. Dean sat across from me. We were twisted like a pretzel with my feet on his shoulders. I was sitting on his legs, almost as if I was in his lap. A cool cloth was on my forehead, and Dean was squeezing my feet.

"I'm sorry."

"It's like a hangover except I didn't get to have the fun of drinking." I groaned. I closed my eyes to keep the room from spinning.

I was seven weeks along. Sam, John, and Bobby went on a quick hunt a few days ago. Dean begged me to stay home. I agreed if he would stay home with me.

We were bored out of our minds.

"It'll be a long nine months if we never go on hunts." I commented cooly.

"Guess it will be." He shrugged. "It's kind of nice. I've never taken a bath before."

I sat up a little straighter. "Never?"

"Nope, just showers. But it’s got a naked, soapy woman, its warm, and smells good. I don't really see a downside."

I laughed and shook my head. "Just wait, we are doing facials next."

"Sounds good." He said, squeezing the ball of my foot.

"Who are you?"

He rolled his eyes. "What? I can't enjoy the finer things in life?"

I leaned forward, into his lap, wrapping my legs around his waist. "You can." I said, rubbing the bubbles on his chest, covering his tattoo.

"This is going to be one hell of a vacation."

"Vacation? So we will go back to work eventually?" I asked, hopeful.

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"Maybe we should find a place, ya know, one that we can stay in with the baby. There isn't exactly room for a nursery here, or in the Impala."

He cleared his throat. "Could be a good idea." He seemed so cagey about the future, like it would never come.

Looking at him, though, relaxed, and happy, I couldn't almost imagine it. I could almost want it. "Where would you live if you could live anywhere?"

"Somewhere with a view." He said like he had thought about it before. "Maybe by a lake. Somewhere quiet."

"That sounds nice." I said, running my fingers through his hair.

"What about you?"

"I want to be wherever you are." I bit my lip. "Christ I sound like such a girl." I frowned.

He laughed. "You do."

I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his. "I'm scared this won't last." I admitted. "I know we aren't talking about it, but we can't live in this tub forever."

"We won't live in a tub." He said kissing me. "Don't worry about the future, Ave. It's going to happen whether you know what's going to happen or not."

Sam

"I'm not going to ask you again." I said, dumping holy water on the demon. "How do we get Dean out of his contract."

The demon laughed, spitting in my face. "I've heard about the deal. You can't l break it. No one can."

My fist collided with its chin. I was angry. Enraged. I could feel the anger bubbling up in my stomach, crawling up my skin. I was vibrating with it. I could see the ultra sound in my head. Dean was going to be a Dad, and he would never meet his baby. It was cruel.

"Get rid of it." I said, looking at Dad. "It's not going to help us."

I pushed out the door of the motel room to get some air. I dialed Deans number.

"How's the case?" He asked.

"Going good." I grunted. "How are you?"

"Peachy."

"Have you told her?"

"Really? That's why you called?"

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "No. Just checking in."

"Well, don't bother. Things are fine. She's safe. That's all that matters."

"Right." Because your life means nothing. God you're so fucking infuriating.

"Anything else?"

"Nah, man. That's it. Tell Ava hi." I shut my phone and slid it into my pocket.

"It's done." Dad said walking out of the motel. "We need to take care of the body."

"He didn't make it?"

Dad shook his head. "Meat suit was already dead. There wasn't anything we could do."

"Great." I sighed. We need a win.

"What're you idgits done?" Bobby asked, adjusting his hat.

"No, Bobby." I said, raising my voice. "And we won't be done until Dean is safe."

"I love that boy like he's my own son, but I'll be damned if any more pain comes to my niece or her child. Dean won't forgive you if something happens to her, either."

He was right, but I couldn't accept that. I wouldn't live in a world without my brother. "I love Ava, too. The baby is my family. I wouldn't let anything happen to them." I tossed the keys to my dad. "Let's go home."

"Boys get in the damn car." Dad said, grabbing his bag. "We have a case."

"No." I said, crossing my arms. I was twelve, and Dean was sixteen.

"No?" Dad asked.

"Come on, Sammy." Dean said quietly.

He was always doing that. Dad was so intense, serious. I was defiant. I wanted more. The older I got, but there was still Dean. He kept me in line. He was my mother and my father my whole life. My best friend.

"Why should we? I'm doing good in school. I don't want to go. My friend said I can stay with them..."

"No! Sam, I said no. We stick together. That's what family does."

"Family?!" I shouted. "Maybe I don't want to be a part of this family anymore!"

"Sammy, you don't mean that."

"Maybe I do, Dean!"

He reached out to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Come on. You're my brother. Do it for me."

I looked into my brothers eyes. He knew Dad would leave me there if I held my ground. Dean didn't want to lose me. I didn't want to lose him. "One more case, but I'm coming. I'm old enough. I won't stay in these motels anymore."

Dean looked to Dad. "That sounds fair, right?"

"Just get in the car."

Time heals all wounds. I never really believed that. There were some wounds that couldn't be healed. No matter how much time passed, I would never get over losing my brother, and I knew his child would never get over growing up without him.

We had five months and three weeks. It didn't feel like enough time. Maybe no amount of time would feel like enough.

Dean

We were at a nail salon. That was the one place I never thought I'd be in, but according to google women like pedicures. Ava sat next to me in a massage chair, with her feet in warm bubbling water.

"Is it too hot?" The women crouched next to my own chair asked me.

"Nah, it's nice." I said, wiggling my toes in the water.

"I knew you'd enjoy it." Ava said with a grin.

"Shut up."

She smiled and closed her eyes. She looked relaxed. She looked so beautiful.

Her hair was flowing down her body. Her tank top hugged her curves. I noticed her breasts were getting fuller and her hips were more prominent. She was stunning. All I wanted was to drink her in.

"What did Sam want earlier?" She asked me.

The nail tech pulled one of my feet out of the water and started rubbing something on it. My leg jerked at a tickle. "Sorry." I grunted. I looked to Ava. "Just checking in."

"You two are bad at vacations, aren't you? You can't stay off the job for a single day."

"It's not like that." I shook my head. "I'm enjoying this break." I said forcing a big smile.

"Yeah." She raised an eyebrow. "You really look it."

She reached over and clicked a button on my chair, activating the massage function. It was weirdly nice. Another nail tech gave me a mimosa.

"You look like you need it." Ava said with a wink.

"I'm fine. You're the one growing a human."

"And you're going to be a Dad. You haven't really mentioned how you're handling it all."

"I'm great." I leaned back, taking a sip of the mimosa. It wasn't strong enough, but it was tasty. "I really am."

I opened my eyes and glanced at her. Her hand was on her stomach and her eyes were closed. She looked at peace.

————————-

Ava was asleep in our room when Sam, Dad, and Bobby walked in the front door. It was well after midnight. I had a glass of whiskey in my hand. Beer wouldn't be enough, not anymore.

"Hey." I said, putting my finger to my lips to let them know Ava was sleeping.

"Hey." Sam said, putting his bag down.

"I'm beat." Bobby said, stretching. "I'm headed to bed."

"Me, too." Dad grunted, eyeing us.

The creak of the stairs subsided as they made it up to their rooms. Sam sat across from me. "So what'd you do today?"

"Pedicures." I laughed, and took a drink of the whiskey.

Sam raised an eyebrow, grabbing the bottle and pouring himself a glass. "Really? You?"

"Yup. Took a bubble bath, and did a face mask, too. I'm a kept man."

"You really care about her."

I looked up from my glass. "I do."

"I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to go." I shrugged. "I'm actually happy for the first time in my life. You know those moments that you think you're happy? Strippers, booze, killing monsters? It's nothing compared to this. Just wish it wasn't all so short lived." I finished my glass. "Guess that's life, though."

"That's depressing."

I gave him a sideways smile. "Ain't it, though?"

"So what're you going to do?"

I shrugged. "Hell if I know. Whatever she wants, probably."

"Trying to combat how pissed she's gonna be when she finds out?"

I poured myself another glass. "I just want her to be happy for as long as she can. It's the least I can do, since I knocked her up and am leaving her. Real stand up guy." I sighed. "I don't deserve her, so maybe it's the universes way of keeping it all balanced."

"You're good, Dean. You're the best man I know." Sam said with a frown.

"The sad thing is, Sammy, that's probably true." I laughed and took a swig. "And fuck if that isn't depressing."

"You're not as bad as you think."

"Neither was Dad and you see how fucked up we turned out."

Sam looked at me sadly.

"Man, turn that frown upside down." I shook my head. "No sense in dwelling."

"Dwelling in what?" Ava asked, entering the kitchen. She was rubbing her eyes. She wore one of my T-shirt's and a pair of flannel shorts. She looked adorable.

"Sam asked out a girl and she said no."

"Dude!"

Ava smiled and walked up to Sam, giving him a hug. "It's okay, Sam. She doesn't deserve you."

Sam glared at me and hugged Ava back. "Thanks."

"Mhm." She placed a kiss on top of Sams head.

"You okay?" I asked her. "Feeling sick?"

"Actually feeling cravey." She said moving to the fridge. "Score." She said pulling out the jar of pickles.

"Those May have been there since 1999."

"It's fine." She said opening the jar. She stuck a pickle spear in her mouth and a look of bliss flooded her face. "Yum."

"So peanut likes pickles. Hm." I commented.

"Evidentially so."

"Peanut?" Sam asked.

"You know, because in the ultrasound the little one looks like a peanut." Ava said, walking to me and plopping into my lap.

I took a sip of my whiskey, and Ava wrinkled her nose. "Doesn't seem fair that you can drink, and I can't."

I looked up at her, alarmed. "You can't ban me from drinking."

Her bottom lip poked out. "I can't, but I want to. It's making me nauseas smelling it."

I sighed and finished the drink. "Fine."

Sam made a whipping sound with his mouth and raised his eyebrows.

"Fuck off."

Ava winked at Sam, and wrapped her arms around my neck. "Thank you."

"Yeah, whatever." I grumbled.

It would be a long six months, but still not long enough. It would never be long enough.

—————

Chapter Twenty-Four, Wedding

Get caught up!

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@xjamiedennettx

[myneighborhood-thelake]

IronMan Canada 1998

IMC '98 meant a lot to me because it paved the way for some major changes in my life which I really needed to make. There are probably to many tri-related details and too many extraneous issues in this and the subsequent post that I will send out. I apologise in advance if you dislike rambling stories, but the IMC experience was much more than 14 hours 10 minutes and 48 seconds of swimming, biking and running (walking). It was over a year of contemplation and training, and it was 10 years of racing narrowed down into one event.

That said, please enjoy.

I think that my story starts out about 5 years ago. I was putting myself through my final years of college and money was just a little tight. I made a conscious choice to stop racing triathlons for a while to reduce my expenses. I graduated and landed a great job with excellent potential for advancement. Since I was pushing hard in my career tri's were still regulated to the backseat. 2 1/2 years passed in that job and I was experiencing severe burnout. I had focused all of my intensity on my work, and work was not as exciting as it had been when I was fresh out of college.

Labor Day (U.S.) 1997. One of my best friends got married in Philadelphia - which is an incredible town. At an after party I was talking with a couple of people - an associate editor of Triathlete magazine and a guy who occasionally does a few tri's. The tri-geek was trying to get the Triathlete editor to give him a slot for Kona. He would have been better off trying to score a date with her - there was no way that she was going to conjure up a Kona slot. She suggested IMC as a place to qualify.

The wheels in my head started to turn - "I need a challenge" "I have wanted to get back into tri's for several years" "I need a really big challenge to get me out of my workaholic rut" "Maybe I should try IMC"

Back at work I downloaded the IMC '98 application and contemplated the commitment to training for an IM. My wife was 100% behind me signing up for IMC. When we started dating I was racing tri's in Southern California, and she knows how much I enjoyed the scene. I bit the bullet and mailed in my application. I even started training  - somewhat. Four plus  years of inactivity had taken their toll. I had purchased a new Kestrel KM40 in the fall of 1996, but I only had ridden it for about 100 miles in the year since I bought it. It was pretty embarrassing to be out riding my shiny, new Kestrel as I was getting passed by everyone on the road.

I soon subscribed to Tri-DRS and saw all the traffic about IMC filling up in record time. I wondered, I worried, I fretted, and then the confirmation letter came. It was true - I was going to Canada in 9 months.

To say the least - I was really scared. I was out of shape. I had never done an Ironman. I used to train for Oly distance races using a "feeling" plan - "How do I feel today and what do I want to do?"  I knew that I could not train for an Ironman on such an ad hoc training plan.

I wrote down my goals for IMC '98. A

1. Finish my first Ironman. 2. Have fun.

After the race I would: 1. Smile. 2. Hug my wife. 3. Be happy that I went from couch potato to Ironman in 10 months!!!!

I needed some help in training, so I talked with my college teammate and now QR pro Greg Thompson. Greg suggested that I contact Lauren Alexander for coaching advice. The best thing that I did in the months prior to IMC was hire Lauren as my coach. She is a major asset.

The months flew by, I had a hideous race at Wildflower, I DNF'd at San Jose due to a mechanical, I finally had a great race at a local sprint tri and I did pretty well at the 1/2 Vineman. The 1/2 Vineman taught me that I could overcome problems during a race and still continue on to a good finish. I sent out numerous emails to both the Tri-DRS and the IMC lists asking all kinds of stupid questions. Luckily there are a lot of great people on the list who answered my questions and gave me some great guidance. Unbelievably - Taper Time for IMC arrived - my first IM was only 3 weeks away.

During all of this IM training,  life continued to march forward. My wife continued her studies and supported my training endeavors. My job structure changed again, and again, and again, and finally I found a new job that started two weeks before IMC - of course I negotiated a one week break for IMC into my offer. As always there was a multitude of issues to deal with that really got in the way with training. As time marched on I forgot about my initial race goals - I started thinking about racing IMC as opposed to surviving it, and that was a big mistake. My initial goals were what I should have focused on, but I wasted a lot time worrying about split times, average speed and run paces.

Tuesday Afternoon,

Flew from San Francisco to Vancouver. A hometown friend drove to Penticton, so I stashed my bike in his mini-van for the trip. I did not have to worry about packing a bike box, or whether my bike would arrive in Penticton on my flight.

While waiting for the puddle jumper from Vancouver to Penticton, some guy sat next to me and asked me if I was doing the race. I am not sure why he would look at me and assume that I was racing IMC - Okay, maybe the shaved legs and Specialized transition bag were pretty good indicators. He introduces himself as Scott Adams (it sounds familiar). I introduce myself as Ron Renwick. Sometimes it is very useful to have your name and email address coincide. Scott recognized my name, and further introduced himself as an infrequent poster to Jason's IMC list - this is a really small world!  Another friend of mine, Bill - from my Wildflower debacle, showed up and we waited for the plane to Penticton.

We arrived in Penticton. Scott had a seat next to me on the plane where he tried to avoid listening to me whine about how hungry I was for the duration of the flight. Thanks for the pretzels Scott. In the Penticton airport, Scott started talking to this big guy with bright 'blonde' hair and a smaller guy with very little hair. Jason Mayfield and Bruce Grant had come to pick up Scott. I think that Bruce's wife and Eric Austin may have been there too, but it was a few days ago and my memory is not what it used to be. Scott's bike actually made it into Penticton on our flight. My buddy Bill was not so lucky. His bike did not show (as expected), and Canadian Airlines had lost his suitcase too. His carry-on consisted solely of his race wheels, so he was not a happy camper.

Bill and I made our way to the Rochester Resort - 2 doors from the Sicamous, and "The Best Value On The Beach."  It was late so we walked the 10 steps to Salty's restaurant for a bite to eat. FYI, avoid Salty's if possible. Bill was able to buy a toothbrush at the local convenience store - he now had race wheels, the clothes on his back and a toothbrush - Bill was not a happy camper.

Wednesday,

0700 - I made my way to the Sicamous for my first pre-IMC swim. I met so many people that I had emailed with over the last 10 months. I only swam for 20 minutes, but meeting everyone was incredible. My goggles broke during the swim - add one more thing to my "Must Buy" list.

After a shower Bill and I walked downtown to the Hog's Breath. We grabbed a cup of coffee and some breakfast. Bill was impressed that we kept bumping into Tri-DRS'ers. I finally told him that "Everything I know about Penticton I learned on from the List."  Which meant that anywhere we went we were sure to bump into some Deads. We walked around town, checked out the construction zone of the Athlete's village and hit the Bike Barn - a really cool bike store. Most bike shops in the SF Bay area are pretty streamlined. They look more like a Blockbuster Video store than a neighborhood bike shop  - everything is in its proper spot. The Bike Barn rocks - racks of stuff and a good assortment of bikes. Bins were overflowing with stuff. It was a great place to dig around for bike goodies. The place was humming with tri-bikes. There must have been at least 8 workstands going continuously.

We went to lunch at Front Street Pasta (Jason's choice) a great meal for a very low price. I finally met Dave 'the starving student" Barclay. Jason was quite the entertainment director - as the week progressed he started looking more and more like Julie Tewes, the Cruise Director from the Love Boat ;-).

My bike arrived in the afternoon - reassembly consisted of putting the front wheel back on (no allen wrenches for me). For dinner it was Front Street Pasta again this time with my bike hauling friend Ray, Bill, Dead Chris Nugent and lurking Dead Bob Castaldi. A post-dinner beer with Ray and Greg Pressler was quite relaxing. Greg truly is a poet at heart.

Thursday

Thursday was my glycogen depletion/carbo load day so I did a solo swim and run and 4 of us rode the first 15 miles of the bike course out and back. We meant to ride the run course, but we turned left on McClean by mistake. We then picked up our registration packets and got our wrist bands. It was official - I was signed up for an Ironman.

Friday

I missed the 0700 swim by 10 minutes, so I did not get to meet anyone new from the list. However, after the swim I finally met the person that I have tried to meet for months now. We train in the same locations, we race the same races and we live only a few miles apart, but I had never met this person. Finally, after a 2000 mile trek to Canada, I finally met Tri-Baby, the one the only Tricia Richter. Now I wonder how the hell I missed seeing her in other races!  And I thought that Jason had some noticable hair.

My buddy Ray and I went to the Hog's Breath after the swim for a dose of caffeine, and we bumped into some deads (imagine that). Gerry Kuse was talking to Tricia and Skippy. He was wearing a 1993 Mike and Rob's shirt, a race that I had my 1/2 IM PR in way back when (it's a small world). It turns out the Gerry and I have raced at several of the same races over the years.

At the carbo load dinner we learned that there would be 675 IronVirgins racing on Sunday. 40% of the racers were attempting there first IM. Wow!

Saturday

My wife flew into town on Saturday morning. I was really glad to see her. She had been so supportive of my training, and she deserves the title of IronMate. She had originally been scheduled to fly up with me on Tuesday, but her school schedule mandated that she stay at home during the pre-race week and attend classes. I often say that you should always have at least one smart person in the family, and I was lucky enough to marry well.

The day pretty much flew by with the pre-race meeting, the parade, packing Special Needs Bags and bike check-in. My nutrition plan was pretty simple - Gu and Cytomax and salt tabs. I had trained with Gu, Cyto and salt tabs over the past 10 months with great results. At the last minute I decided to toss an Okanagan pear into my Bike Special Needs Bag.

A post parade dinner at the Gunbarrel and a walk home were all that I needed for the evening. It was time to get some sleep. Before I drifted off I thought back to my original goals. Oh yeah, I was here to have fun. I was not here to break 14 or 12 or 10 hours, but I still held out for a good race even though I knew that I just wanted to finish. I wish that I would have looked back on my goals more often.

The actual Race Report follows.

Sunday - RACE DAY

I started the day with a 3:00 am breakfast run to Denny's. Ray and I figured that an early breakfast would be useful for us. I had actually slept for about 5 or 6 hours the night before, and I felt pretty good.

At about 5:00 am I gathered my Special Needs Bags and swim gear bag and marched 3/4 of a mile to the transition. I got body marked, Championchipped and went straight to my bike. Even at 0500 the volunteers were friendly and incredibly helpful. I chose to leave my floor pump at the hotel [good choice] - with my floor pump absent from the transition area there were only 1,699 floor pumps in the TA waiting to be used. In addition there was a crew from the Bike Barn with a compressed air cylinder for filling tires. I pumped up my Conti's to about 160psi, loaded my aerobag, filled my jetstream and walked around the corner to the Swim and Run transition bag racks.

The 2 hours from 0500 to 0700 flew by. I chatted with a few friends, revelled in the fact that I was about to start my first Ironman and donned my wetsuit. I did a warm up swim for about 10 minutes in the clear Lake Okanagan. I chatted with Chris Nugent. I high-fived and chatted with Greg Pressler. In Greg's race report he mentioned that he saw "fire in Ron's eyes."  With all due respect, I think that Greg is confusing the "Happy Face" holograms on my goggles with fire.

Meeting the people on this list has been a special thrill, both Greg and I have both been doing tri's for over 10 years, but we had waited until now for our first IM. We both had that "This is finally it" feeling, he went on to an incredible race that he really deserved.

The day before the race, Greg had a great observation about the IMC swim course. "It's an International Distance swim on the way out, a few hundred meters to the right and a 1/2 IM swim on the way home - we have done this before."

Oh Canada was played. I think that I heard some bagpipes somewhere, and the race STARTED!

I was here to have fun so I held back for a few seconds to let the mass of humanity clear out from the start line. I started swimming. I kept thinking to myself "This is so COOL!  I am finally doing an IronMan."  I passed the first set of marker bouys and thought to myself "WOW, I just passed my first set of IronMan marker bouys. This is AWESOME!"

The swim went very well. It was much less brutal than Wildflower, and the course is very well marked. I  was so happy to be racing. I was bumped a few times, I swam over a few folks, I drafted a little and hit some toes and I was drafted off of. I hit the first houseboat (leg 1) in 25 minutes - I was ecstatic. I stopped for a second to adjust the neck of my wetsuit as I was experiencing a little chafe. I made it to the second right turn at 35 minutes - one more leg to go. The swim course is so well marked that I had to do very little sighting - maybe one look every 10 strokes. Basically, the swim was all mine. I focussed completely on how I was doing. If I bumped someone or got kicked it just did not matter. I really enjoyed being out there. I hit the beach and attempted to walk over the annoying rocks.

I looked at my watch - I had completed the swim in 1:06!!!!!!!!

I was expecting to have a 1:20 swim as I have only been in the water 5 or 6 times since Wildflower in May, and two of those times were tri swims. A 1:06 was incredible.

I thought "It cannot get any better than this!"

It did not get any better.

In fact, things got far, far worse.

SWIM TO BIKE TRANSITION

I wore my Speedo and singlet under my wetsuit during the swim, so I only had to don my cycling shoes and helmet. I also stopped to urinate - little did I know that I would not have to worry about that for the next 12 hours. . .

I rolled out of town feeling really good. I had just finished an incredible swim, and I was finally starting on the bike leg of my first Ironman!  I took it easy for the first 5 miles - I figured that I had 107 more miles to make up time. I hit the drops as we hit South Main Street. My first priority was to hydrate and the cytomax was not tasting very good. I spun my way up McClean Road and picked off many people on the downhill - when you weigh 195 pounds downhills are a real rush. My stomach was a little tight, but I attributed that to being so early in the race.

At the bottom of McClean someone was nice enough to tell me that I had lost my pump during the rapid descent. The bracket holding my pump on my bike broken off. "Nothing I can do about it now - I hope that I don't flat."

At about mile 10 my JetStream went dry. I had a bottle of highly concentrated Cytomax on my downtube with markings on the bottle to delineate portions. I shot some Cyto concentrate into my JetStream and filled the rest with water to make a 7% solution. I immediately took a drink from my JetStream. The concentrate and the water had not mixed together, so I got about an 80% solution of Cyto in that mouthful.

I should have pulled off the side of the road and tossed my cookies.

I chose to keep the cytomax concentrate down and chase it with water - it's hard to say, but this may have been a big mistake.

My stomach started cramping big time!  I could no longer drink. I tried to take a Gu, but I could not get it down. 10 miles into the bike and I could neither hydrate nor feed - OH NO!

I tried some different positions on the bike to alleviate my stomach cramps. The aero position put direct pressure on my abdomen which was not feeling too good. I alternated between sitting upright and going aero.

I was still doing pretty good with respect to speed. At mile 41 I took the right turn to head up Richter.

Can someone please tell me why both Wildflower and IMC have a hill at  Mile 41???

At the base of Richter I was still holding a 22.5mph average. Then I started climbing Richter. In the grand scheme of things Richter is not a terrible climb. I ride much worse on my regular training rides. However, Richter is at mile 41 of an IM and I had not eaten much for 3 hours (swim and bike time)

I bonked.

I hurt.

I struggled to the top of Richter,

I cursed the wind.

I quit looking at my heart rate monitor - it just did not matter.

I got passed by most of the people racing at IMC.

I got passed by pedestrians who were walking up Richter.

The downhill after Richter should have been a lot of fun, but I could not hold a good tuck. I only hit 47 mph. The uphill after Richter and the rollers through the Osoyoos were intolerable. I just kept pedaling forward. I stopped at about mile 60 to eat a banana - finally I was able to consume something. I was very happy that it stayed down. I continued to slog forward. The head wind was really causing problems. Even the flat spots were hard to ride. I promised myself that I would take a break when I got my special needs bag. I passed a med tent on the way out the second out and back section. I was very tempted to stop and take a nap.

When I got my special needs bag, I rode to the closest clear spot, dropped my bike and sat down. I  opened my bag. The Gu's were completely unappetizing, but the pear looked great. I started eating my Okanagan pear  - man that tasted good. Unfortunately that was the only good item in my SNB. [Note to Self:  diversify nutrition plans in future long races]. Some saint in one of Jason's IMC-RST jerseys stopped next to me. It was John Welch. He had an extra turkey sandwich that tasted incredible. I could eat! This tall guy with a mustache and a blue Softride stopped next to me. He was not having a good day. My personal saint, Jeff, said "George are you OK."  It was George Ball. Since I was sitting on the ground in close proximity I have to say - George has some big, skinny feet. George was not feeling too good, and he crossed the road to sit down in a chair.

I shouted to a teammate, Gerry Morton, but he looked around at eye level and missed me sitting down. I saw Tri-Baby, and pretty soon Steve "Gibbo" Gibson rolled up. Gibbo looked incredibly fresh. He looked more like he had just started his ride than that he had already ridden 75 miles. Gibbo's special needs bag was missing and he was pretty irate about not getting to his vegemite sandwiches. To be honest, I have tried the stuff and I think that he was better off not having access to his vegemite, but then again I am not an Aussie ;-).

I gave myself 20 minutes of rest at the special needs stop. The first couple of miles felt OK, but soon thereafter my quads wanted to quit (again).

The course turned back onto Highway 3A and started the gradual climb to Yellow Lake Hill. It was really hot and really windy. Then we hit Yellow Lake Hill. I kept telling myself to live only in the moment - forget about the rest of the race - things will get better, but I was really hurting. It became a battle of feet. Instead of pushing to get to the next mile marker, I goaled for the next traffic sign or the next rock on the shoulder of the road. Bit by bit, pedal turn by pedal turn.

Finally, I stopped on the climb and sat on my top tube for a while (I chose not to time myself). Most people were really great. Almost all of the athletes asked if I was OK, and the race marshalls stopped to check on me. I seriously thought about dropping out. I looked at my watch just as it hit the 7 hour mark. I was at mile 90. I did a quick calculation - I had 10 hours to ride 22 miles and run a marathon. 22 mile rides are easy spins during training. I could do this.

I chose not to DNF. I started riding again. I passed some guy who was walking his bike and I decided to do the same. Two teammates passed me as I was walking, my buddy Ray and Tana, who always looks like she is just out doing an easy training ride even though she is hammering along. They made sure that I was OK as the cruised on by. I made it to the aid station at the top of the hill. A volunteer offered me cold, de-fizzed Pepsi. Pepsi was not in my pre-race plan, but then again, walking up Yellow Lake was not in my plan - I took the Pepsi.

The caffeine and sugar boost was amazing. I started riding once again. My stomach wanted to get rid of the Pepsi, but I made it stay down. I passed Ray and I caught Tana. Tana and I chatted for a minute until my specialty arrived - the Yellow Lake Downhill. I expected to cruise with the downhill bias back into town, but after the big downhill the headwind took over again. I slogged back to the transition area.

As I crossed paths with the people already on the run course I tried to assess their condition. Some people looked pretty good, but most were looking pretty tired. I got to the transition area, but I forgot to slip out of my shoes before I handed off my bike. My brain was not working too well.

BIKE TO RUN TRANSITION

Since I was going to wear my speedo and singlet for the run I did not need to change. I went into the changing tent just to sit down for a while. I applied some vaseline and stuck some reflective tape on my speedo. Ray had slipped the reflective tape in my Bike-Run bag (thanks Ray). I ate a little watermelon and drank some water. The watermelon tasted great, but I was worried about it staying down during the run. I left the changing tent to start my first ever marathon.

An Amazing IMC tidbit - I fully expected to have to carry my gear bags to a rack and hang them up. For both transitions you simply leave the gear bag on the ground. A volunteer comes along and gathers up the gear bag and hangs it on a rack - so simple - so easy for the athlete.

THE RUN

My original plan had been to start running slowly and see how things turned out. Running slowly was not a problem - everything was going to be slow. Running fast was unthinkable. I walked the aid stations, drank, ate a little bit and drenched myself with sponges. It was really hot!!

My first mile was an 11:30 and I was really happy. I hit mile 2 in 22:30 - amazingly I was actually picking up the pace (if only slightly). I walked mile 4. At mile 6, I was caught by some guy who wanted ibuprofen. After Vineman I made sure that I had Ibu with me, so I handed him a tablet. We chatted for a while until it became obvious that we knew each other. It was Dennis from RST and Greg Pressler's friend. Dennis pulled me to the run turnaround by alternating running and walking. Dennis kept talking about his Run special needs bag that contained a pair of dry socks. I remembered that my SNB only had Gu.

[see Note to Self from Bike Special Needs bag section - vary the contents of the Special Needs Bag]]

My split time for the 13.1 miles to the turnaround was 3 hours even. My friend Bill ran into and out of the turnaround looking great. He had a mechanical on the bike that cost him almost an hour.

Then I remembered that I had also put a pair of dry socks in my special needs bag. In fact I had brought a pair to Canada just for this purpose. The socks were pretty old, so if I chose not to wear them it was no big deal if I lost them. I was so happy that I had remembered to put fresh socks into my Needs Bag. The socks would only provide a momentary relief, but that moment would be enough. I needed something to brighten my day.

Dennis and I sat down to open our special needs bags. We ripped off our shoes and wet socks. We opened our special needs bags. Dennis pulled out a pair of dry socks.

OOPS!  I had forgotten to pack the socks. I put my sweaty socks and shoes back on. Putting wet, icky socks back on was not the most pleasant feeling. The delivery truck with the chicken soup stopped at the turnaround.

I originally had hoped to be off the course by the time the chicken soup hit the aid stations. I had never envisioned myself only being halfway through the run when the chicken soup came out. Oh well, here I was and the soup smelled good. I sipped a cup and almost hurled. What is manna from heaven for many triathletes just did not sit well with me - I gagged at the first sip.

We started back down the road toward Penticton. The sun was starting to set which meant that it would finally cool off. Ray was just climbing the hill to the turnaround. He was surprised that the turnaround had come so soon - he looked smooth in his running form - nice and steady.

For Dennis and I it was:

Run some.

Walk more.

I ate what little I could at the aid stations.

Ray caught up to us just as we caught up to Bill. Bill had looked great leaving the turnaround, but he was struggling through a low point now. The four of us marched slowly along - it was good to know that every step was bringing us back into town. After a while Bill perked up again, and he and Ray started jogging back to town. Dennis and I kept shuffling along. A mile or two later, Dennis ducked into a porta-potty and I just stopped by the side of the road - the first time that I had urinated in 12+ hours!  Believe it or not it was a major mental boost. I had really been starting to worry about my kidneys.

It became apparent that Dennis had a lot more left in his legs than I did. I wished him luck as he disappeared around a corner. My feet were really starting to hurt. I did not have any blisters or abrasions, but it felt like someone had taken a meat tenderizer to the soles of my feet and my toes. I was almost hoping that a couple of my toes would just fall off so that they would not hurt anymore. I came around a corner and hit another aid station. On the other side of the aid station Ray and Bill were walking slowly. They had dropped their pace in order to wait for me - THANKS GUYS!!!!

At that point we were about 20 miles into the marathon. Two women came running by us like it was a 10K - I wondered where they got the energy from. A few seconds later about 4 guys caught us and they laid out their very detailed plan for breaking 14 hours. It is great to be at a race with sooooo many engineers - almost everyone is incredibly analytical. The plan was pretty simple - hold 11 minute miles and we would break 14 hours, but these guys had even calculated walking zones and rest stops..... To everyone we passed - two of the guys kept on saying - "hop on the 9:00 o'clock express. You can do it."

It turns out that the guys had also shared their plan with the two women who had run by like gazelles. The women had found something inside themselves and they chose to push it hard into town. Unfortunately we passed them about 1/2 mile later as they could not hold that pace that they had charged ahead with.. We left the water line of Skaha Lake and started climbing the rollers. I passed another guy and this time I looked back and saw a Tri-DRS singlet. I introduced myself and finally met Jay Capers.

The group of us was still shuffling along trying to hold 11 minute miles. The detail oriented engineer guys were still calculating our odds of breaking 14.   I dropped off as we went through the Skaha rollers, but I was able to catch the group again on the downhills. Ray and Bill were feeling pretty good, so they pulled ahead. This left me with the two human calculators/cheerleaders. The guy on the right introduced himself. I was not hearing or concentrating very well so I thought that he said his name was "Ralph."  He corrected me that his name was not "Ralph" but  "Rolf" - even my feeble brain was able to decipher that I was running next the "Keeper of the IMC Lodging and Goal Times List"  I introduced myself to Rolf Arands.

The guy on my left said "didn't I give you a sandwich at the bike Special Needs Bag?"  It was John Welch of RST. He had saved me on the bike and he was trying to pull me in for a sub 14 hour finish.

As before - we were shuffling along - only we had picked up the pace to give ourselves a margin of error. We debated about how fast we were running

"do you think this is a 9 minute mile?" "I think it's more like an 8:30" "Yeah right, like we could run 8:30's right now?" "It sure feels like an 8:30"

We turned onto Main Street and hit the aid station. I had to walk and asked Rolf and John to run on. Rolf tried to talk me into running with them, but I was not up for it. The finish line was getting closer, but I was hurting too much - my feet were lodging a formal protest.

I kept trudging along on Main Street. The fans were incredibly helpful. An ironvet on a bike talked to me for over a block - he was very motivating. I promised him that I wouild run again when there were three stoplights to go. Hurricane  Bob Mina passed me and I congratulated him. I started jogging again.

Two blocks from the Hog's Breath I picked up my pace. I ran (actually ran - not jogged) the last few yards of Main Street - high fiving the kids and cheering with the crowd. I could not believe that I was running. The left turn onto Lakeshore Drive was incredible. I ran hard to the finish line and crossed in 14:10:48.

I completed my goal. I had gone from couch to Canada in 10 months. I am an IRONMAN.

POST-RACE:

Two incredible volunteers escorted me from the finish line. Somehow I received my IMC towel, finisher's medal and T-shirt (the correct size - how do they do it?). The ladies escorted my to the line for the massage tent per my request - they stayed with me for several minutes until they were sure that I was OK - they brought me water and some chicken soup. The chicken soup actually tasted great. I had a great massage, and I walked back to the finish line to find my wife who was standing right next to the results tent. It was sooooo good to see her. I got my congratulatory hug (over the snow fence) and I heard how proud she was of my accomplishment. After a very long day that was filled with ups and downs it was very uplifting to hear her words.

I picked up my gear bags, changed into some dry clothes, had my finishers photo taken (remember to wear your finisher's shirt and medal - they look great in the photo), I soaked my legs in a hot tub, and I waited to no avail for some pizza. I then picked up my bike and Winter and I walked back to the Rochester. My eyes felt like they had a salt shaker dumped in them - I had to squint to see anything. Winter was hungry after waiting for me for several hours so we went to the Iguana for a bite - nothing else was open at 11:00pm. Fajitas in Canada are not what I am used to - what is a tomato tortilla anyhow????  My stomach was still in an act of rebellion so I took my meal home to eat the next day. We turned on Channel 11 to watch the 17 hour finishers - there was no way that I was going to make it back to the finish line. The fireworks (like the start cannon) went off a little early. I then realized why my eyes were barely open - I was EXHAUSTED. I passed out almost immediately.

THE DAYS AFTER

I awoke on Monday feeling hungry (finally). My stomach was still a little tender, but I managed to eat.

I was happy to have completed my first IM in such difficult conditions, but I was frustrated that I had fallen apart during the race. 14 hours was much longer than what I had hoped to do.

I contemplated IMC '99. My legs hurt, my stomach still ached and I had not totalled the bills for the cost of IMC '98. I did not want to come back to Penticton again in '99. Then I thought twice - this race has the best organization and volunteers of any race that I have ever done. I want to do better than a 14 hour IM. In a month I would be ready to contemplate IMC '99, but I would not have a month to decide. I chose to submit my application for '99.

The rest of the day was a blur - finisher's merchandise, results book (Vineman and Wildflower's took about 3 months to arrive - IMC's was complete with pictures in about 10 hours), awards ceremony, shopping, packing, meeting friends, handing my bike off to Ray for the drive home. soon it was Tuesday morning and time to fly home.

Back home I evaluated the race. In Penticton, surrounded by IronVets, my finish did not look to stellar. As I reread my goals for the race and talked to non-triathletes I started thinking clearly again:

I have completed every one of my IMC '98 goals.

I am an Ironman.

I am not the same person that I was 10 months ago and I am very, very happy that I did what had to be done in order to finish.

To every IronVirgin out there - good luck training for your goals, and be sure to remember what your goals are!!!!

[cooperjones2020]

What’s Past is Prologue, What to Come

The first in a series of interrelated vignettes from Jughead Jones’s obsession with Betty Cooper. Can be read with Marked, part 1 and part 2.

Starts in childhood and will go partway through season 1. If I don’t get bored.

Dark!Jug, Creepy!Jug, Stalker!Jug, generally Sociopathic!Jug

TW for implied abuse, and, as always, gratuitous Shakespeare references

(ao3-->http://archiveofourown.org/works/11394858/chapters/25519734)

The day he met Betty was the day he discovered the monster in his chest.

He stared at her through the boughs of the shrub he’d been sitting in for the last five minutes.

Now that the sun had sunk below the eaves of the house, the underside of the boxwood hedge was dark and cool. The shiny leaves brushed against him, tickling his skin and snagging on his hat. He heard Archie, still counting, through the open bedroom window, but he knew the other boy wouldn’t find him here. Even then Jughead Jones knew Archie Andrews wasn’t very smart. For starters, he hadn’t actually meant that Archie should count to a hundred when he said count to a hundred. Archie kept messing up thirty-three and thirty-four and having to go back.

But that was okay. Archie always had new comic books and he didn’t mind sharing his legos. Plus, when they went over to the Andrews for dinner, there was always enough for seconds. Usually thirds too.

In his green and dappled fortress, Jughead hunkered down for a nice quiet wait. He had a dead frog in his pocket that he’d picked up on the walk over.

Then the gate opened and what he could only describe as a cartoon character come to life walked through. The little girl had curled blonde pigtails, a stiff pink dress, and saddle shoes with ruffled socks. She was the cleanest thing he’d ever seen. She actually glowed.

She also had a tupperware container.

Jughead debated whether or not to come out. On the one hand, Archie was almost done counting and if he came out, he’d almost certainly lose. On the other hand, if he didn’t come out he might not get to eat whatever was in the tupperware. He’d already eaten two hot dogs but he also knew he’d eaten the end of the cereal at their house that morning.

Then the back door opened and Archie ran out, his orange head almost as strong a beacon as her yellow one. “Betty, you came!”

“Of course I did, Archie! And look, my mom sent us brownies!”

Brownies. Okay he was coming out.

He emerged from his crouch in the hedge and the girl—Betty—looked startled.

“Wow, that was a good hiding place, Jug! I never would have found you.”

Jughead shrugged at Archie, but stayed in his place in the bush, his hand around the frog in his pocket.

“Come meet Betty! She’s my new neighbour and she has a sister and a cat and her parents are putting a swimming pool in their yard!”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Archie, I said that was a secret!”

“Jughead’s my best friend, Betty. Secrets don’t count with best friends.” Jughead didn’t think that was true. He was pretty sure there were things his dad hadn’t told Mr. Andrews. Like for instance, he was pretty sure Mr. Andrews didn’t know about the stuff his dad brought home from work. But this didn’t seem to be the moment to point it out.

She moved forward. “Hi Jughead, I’m Betty. Do you want a brownie?”

“Yes.” He stepped out of the shrub and reached up a hand to make sure his hat was on tightly.

He ate three brownies and drank a glass of milk while Archie and Betty argued about what they should play. Archie insisted girls couldn’t play with GI Joes. Betty insisted he was wrong. GI Joe looked exactly like Ken so if Archie wouldn’t share a GI Joe with her, she’d just go bring one of her Ken dolls over. And maybe she’d bring Barbie too.

Archie’s eyes widened in horror. Jughead watched their exchange. The sheer speed with which words left her mouth was disorienting. He didn’t think he’d ever heard either of his parents talk that fast. Or that much.

But he was also fascinated by her hands. She kept making fists and releasing them. They curled so tightly he knew they had to be hurting her. But she kept them by her sides. She never raised them like his father sometimes did late at night.

Archie called him back to the present. “Jug, tell her a Ken doll is not the same as a GI Joe. Ken is for girls.”

Jughead had never seen a Ken doll, but he also didn’t want Betty to leave. So he sided with Betty. Archie only looked hurt for a moment before shrugging and running upstairs for the basket of toys.

He didn’t understand why he couldn’t stop staring at her.

He watched her from his place to her left on the grass. For all Archie’s complaining, as soon as they’d started playing, he’d let Betty take charge of the game. She was currently collecting rocks from around her and ordering Archie to fetch extra food. The GI Joes were going on a stakeout in the desert.

She turned big green eyes on him and asked if he wanted to help her build their fort. He scooted a little bit closer.

When her mother called her home, a sharp Elizabeth traveling over the tall, white fence, Betty had looked scared. Immediately, Jughead had a vision of her mom as a fire-breathing dragon. Or as the evil stepmother wanting to lock Betty away in a tower. Something black and foreign clawed its way up his throat and for a moment his vision tunneled. The thing roared in his ears. Jughead had never wanted to play knight before, but he wanted to protect Betty Cooper. He wanted a sword to swing and charge and whack at her mother.

He watched her slip back through the gate and into her own yard. Through the slats of the fence, he could see her mother yelling, saying things like You knew what time you had to be home and where is my tupperware and how did you get grass stains on your dress. Betty stared at her shoes. Jughead wished again for a sword. He wished the thing inside him could come out. Archie kept playing with his GI Joe.

That night, when Archie fell asleep, Jughead rolled out of his sleeping bag and crept to the windowsill. Her curtains were open. A nightlight illuminated a tiny figure hunched on the bed. If he didn’t breathe, he could hear the strangled sound of her crying.

Without thinking, he pulled the head off the GI Joe that had been on the floor next to him.

He wanted to hit whoever made Betty cry. He wanted to hit Betty so she’d keep crying.

When his mother left for Toledo the first time, taking a black eye and a ten month-old Jellybean with her, when his father said he was too young to be left alone and dropped him off at the Andrews for a couple hours that turned into five days, Betty Cooper baked him cookies.

By then, he was used to her feeding him.  The instances in which Betty appeared at the Andrews house unaccompanied by baked goods were few and far between. She seemed to use them to unlock the magic door that kept her imprisoned. She used them cut a path in the tangled forest that isolated her tower. She used them like an excuse so her mother would let her come over.

The times Archie wasn’t home, the times his parents would fight and Jughead would sneak his way past them or out his window, and would run and run and climb until he could fling himself into the treehouse in the corner of Archie’s yard, Betty’s blonde head would appear, quickly followed a small plastic bag or a tupperware container. When he was really lucky, she’d also bring a sandwich.

On the third day of Gladys and FP’s absence, when Jughead was beginning to wonder if he was an orphan, Betty had arrived.

Betty told him these cookies were special. Polly, older than them and so infinitely wise, had helped bake them. Archie was made to promise not to eat any. They had chocolate chips but no walnuts, which her mom normally put in. They had reese’s pieces. They had pretzels. And they were as big as two of his hands.

He ate four while Betty took off her coat.

As usual, he noted how clean she was. He wasn’t sure if pink was her favourite color — he’d never asked her — but she sure wore it a lot. Today, though, she had a white gauze bandage wrapped around her right forearm.

Polly the infinitely wise hadn’t been able to find the oven mitts. “So I used a dish towel, only it didn’t work as good. So when my hands got too hot — well I’m not sure cause it happened so fast — but I think I must have tried to balance the tray on my arm instead and then I burned myself.” Tears sprung to her eyes and her lower lip wobbled. “Juggie, it hurt.”

The black thing in his chest, the monster, shifted in its cage. He hugged Betty, because that’s what you were supposed to do. That’s what Mrs. Andrews had done the day before when Jughead had stubbed his toe and said a word that made Archie turn as red as his hair.

Betty sighed and turned her face into his neck.

“What if I sign it? We can color it and draw pictures.”

“It’s not a cast, Juggie.”

“So? It looks the same. And then when you look at it, you can remember how much fun coloring is instead of how much it hurt.” She looked at him the way baby Jellybean sometimes did.

Betty had been right, though. A gauze bandage was not the same as a cast. He’d picked a red marker and Betty had picked a pink one — maybe that really was her favorite color — but soon after they started, the colors began to bleed together, and Betty winced and then she started to cry for real. Something darker than the red marker reached up and swallowed the letters of their names.

Mrs. Andrews wasn’t mad. Mrs. Andrews was never mad. Jughead had never even heard her yell. She just took Betty into the bathroom and sat her on the toilet and pulled out a first aid kit.

Jughead hovered in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot. His eyes bugged out when she unwrapped the bandage.

A red, shiny patch as big as a baseball covered the inside of Betty’s forearm. But in the middle of that, old, brown blood had crusted, and something yellow and oozing seeped around it. The red of the fresh blood flowed in and through the the raised yellow bits, making tracks like water between tiles. Tiny blisters ringed the whole mess. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it.

It was made up of brighter versions of the same colors Betty’s fists made when she clenched them.

But soon enough, Mary had it rewrapped, with a fresh layer of neosporin under the bandage. Betty smiled at him through the droplets that clung to her eyelashes.

“It’s probably time for you to go home now, Betty. We don’t want your mom to be mad.”

“Okay,” said Betty in a small voice. She hugged Jughead and ran out.

When Betty left, Jughead retreated to the treehouse with his cookies. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews had been making Archie leave him alone unless he said he wanted company. He didn’t.

He’d discovered he could see into Betty’s room. She’d forgotten her Nancy Drew binoculars the week before and he could use them to see through her window to the mirror above her dresser. And then he could usually see her sitting on her bed. It wasn’t as good as the view from Archie’s window, but it was good enough.

Jughead took the red and yellow markers out of his pocket. He used his right arm to draw on his left.

When it had been nine days, FP returned. He smelled and his beard had grown in and Jughead was pretty sure he was wearing the same clothes. Mr. Andrews had given him a look, a look Jughead had noticed passing between the two men increasingly often, but ultimately, Jughead had been bundled into his coat and sent back to the trailer park.

He went inside but his dad stopped to sit on the steps. When Jughead came back to check on him a while later, he had fallen asleep. Jughead sidled around to his front. There was a small, familiar lump in FP’s front shirt pocket. He reached in and removed the lump gingerly, then snuck back inside with it clutched in his hand. Curled up in his bed with his back to the door, he cupped a palm around the lighter and flicked the flame on and off.