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Blossom Vs. The Sisters of Quiet Mercy

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Notes:

what the fuck is UP? i'm back and ready to write lol. things have been hectic for me this last month, but things have started to simmer down. and now that basketball season is ending, i *should* have more time (but that also means track is starting so who knows?). this chapter is pretty angsty and kind of a mess tbh. there is some homophobic rhetoric in the beginning, so tread carefully if that's not your thing, but most of it's pretty chill. happy reading!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Oh my God.”

Toni stands at the front porch shivering and covered with snow. She’s pale and her arms are wrapped around herself in a desperate attempt to keep warm. Cheryl grabs the smaller girl, wincing at her ice cold hands, and ushers her into the house, which is admittedly freezing. 

A trail of melted snow and dirty footsteps are left as they walk to the heated bedroom. “Jesus, Toni,” Cheryl says as she grabs a blanket and wraps it around the still silent girl. She rubs her sides in an effort to create friction while enveloping her in a tight hug. She kisses the side of her head, letting the cold, white snow prick against her lips. “Let me get you some warm clothes, darling.”

“Cheryl, I can-”

“Babe, just let me.” Cheryl smiles softly, trying to push away thoughts of where Toni had been. She only thinks of the white snow threaded in the strands of Toni’s hair. She grabs a soft blanket, tossing it to Toni who easily catches it and immediately wraps herself in it.

Cheryl grabs some pajamas and hands them to Toni saying, “Go change while I get you a nice cup of hot chocolate.” Toni nods with a shiver, holding onto the clothes.

As she leaves the room Cheryl frowns, trying to wrap her head around this. Toni had been gone for who knows how long and had come back as an icicle. And clearly pretty shaken up. 

Warm, brown liquid spins slowly in the mug as Cheryl stirs the hot chocolate, her mind drifting elsewhere. The hot chocolate licks at the edges of the mug, threatening to spill over onto the white, granite countertops. To seep into the pure stone while Cheryl would grab a paper towel, wiping up the scorching liquid with a grimace.

It doesn’t quite spill, though.

Cheryl returns to their bedroom, finding Toni dressed in warm clothes, looking much better than before. And in fact, upon seeing Cheryl, Toni’s face lights up. She grabs the warm mug from the redhead’s hands. “Thanks,” she says simply as she blows softly into it and takes a sip. Cheryl sits down on the bed next to Toni.

Her words die in her throat as she nods back at Toni, casting a soft smile. She stays silent while Toni takes more gulps of the warm liquid. She places a loving hand on Toni’s thigh in hopes Toni will tell her where she had gone.

Toni doesn’t though.

She only grabs onto Cheryl’s hand and rubs small circles into it with her thumb. Cheryl blinks once. Twice. Takes a deep breath and making sure to keep any malice out of her voice asks, “Where were you, Toni?”

Cheryl stares at the other girl in a vain attempt to read her like an open book. Of course, Toni isn’t a book, she hasn’t any words written on her forehead, any letters dazzling in her eyes. She only sets her drink down while Cheryl thinks of all the possibilities for her answer.

She could’ve been cheating, or she could’ve sat out to watch the blizzard roll in before being caught in it. She might’ve sat on top of a hill, holding her camera steady toward the falling snow. Toni spends a lot of time at the hill near Sweetwater River. They had a picnic there not too long ago. Cheryl had planned on confessing her love there only to settle on feeding her red grapes and kissing the tip of her nose.

“Well,” Toni starts, grinning ever so slightly at Cheryl before saying, “I went to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy.” Cheryl scrunches her eyebrows, narrowing her eyes as she takes another deep breath to calm herself.

“Pardon?”

Toni frowns before responding quickly with, “I know it sounds bad, but look at what I found.” Toni reaches behind her and grabs a short book from under the covers. Cheryl tries to keep her composure with anger building up as she says, “Toni, why would you-”

“Just look, babe.”

The cover reads, ‘The Cure to Homosexuality’ and Cheryl grimaces slightly upon reading the title. “Toni, the Sisters is a crime scene, how did you get that?”

“I broke in,” she responds nonchalantly. Cheryl’s eyes widen as she realizes what Toni had just done. Trespassing, tampering with evidence. And what for? Toni could be put in jail or fined. The trial could be ruined. Why on Earth would Toni do something so reckless and so incredibly stupid?

Cheryl closes her eyes slightly before asking, “Why would you do that?” and Toni smiles her dazzling smile, putting the book down in her lap with the words, “For us , Cher. This could win us the case.” Cheryl frowns and says sharply, “You’re not involved in this.”

No. No. No. This isn’t right. Toni broke the law. Toni broke the law so that Cheryl could shut down the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. And Cheryl’s trying to prove the Sisters of Quiet Mercy is illegal. And Toni wants to prove that by doing something illegal, something wrong. She shouldn’t have done that. She didn’t have to. But she did. This is bad. This isn’t how this should go.

This isn’t right.

Toni rolls her eyes which only fuels Cheryl’s frustration, “I’m plenty involved in this, Cheryl.” 

“No, you’re not,” Cheryl reminds her sternly. This has nothing to do with Toni. Toni doesn’t have her name plastered all over the news. This isn’t Topaz Vs. The Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Toni doesn’t have to stand in front of the world and shout her trauma from the rooftops. Toni doesn’t have to care. That’s Cheryl Blossom. Cheryl never got to decide to play a part in this. Cheryl can’t stand this. This is dangerous. Toni said she’d stay out of it.

She promised.

“I’m your girlfriend , how could I not be?” Toni scoffs, standing up. Cheryl purses her lips and reaches for Toni’s hands. She knows better than to lose her composure in an argument. That’s when things go awry. That’s when someone leaves.

“You promised you would stay out of this,” Cheryl reminds her of the promise from just a few days ago. Days which feel like years which feel like torture. 

Toni barely notices Cheryl’s plea, simply letting go of her hands and shooting back with, “Cheryl! This could win us,” she pauses and corrects herself by saying, “ You the case.”

Cheryl stands up off of the bed and replies, “I don’t care, Toni. I can’t use that.” She glances back at the vile thing before looking back at Toni.

“Why not? You haven’t even read it! It’s cold, hard evidence.” Toni grabs the book and points it at Cheryl. She grabs the paperback manual out of Toni’s hands. She looks down at it for a few moments before throwing it back on the bed as though it had scorched her hands.

She closes her eyes, bringing her manicured nails to her ear she responds with, “I’m not reading it, Toni.” Toni must’ve noticed Cheryl’s discomfort since she lets the book lie limply on the bed. Instead of arguing further for Cheryl to read it, she says, “Cheryl, don’t be ridiculous. This is practically a confession, you’d be stupid to not use it.”

“Toni, I can’t. You’d be arrested if I did.” Cheryl’s voice is soft and quiet, trying meekly to deescalate the argument. Toni smiles a little mischievously, like a child getting away with something. “No one would know where you got it, Cher.”

“They’ll ask.”

“You can lie.”

“I’m not lying in court.”

“You’ve lied before.” Toni points a finger accusingly at Cheryl while the redhead simply scoffs at the poor accusation. Sure, Cheryl did lie in court. Only because she didn’t want Betty Cooper releasing the video of her brother dying. And besides, “That was before.”

Toni sighs, rubbing at her temples in frustration. “Cheryl, we can win the case with this,” Toni says simply, as though this were so black and white. But Cheryl hardly thinks they’d win using the manual. Even if the verdict rang guilty.

And, for the love of all things good, Toni can’t be involved in this. She should stand by Cheryl’s side, holding her hand and stroking her hair. Not standing in the front lines leading the charge. Toni can’t be the one to fix things.

Especially not like this.

“Stop saying we. Stop saying us. This is about me , Toni.” Cheryl points a finger at her chest, trying to cast her sharpest look to the girl of her dreams.

“You still haven’t even seen what’s in this thing, Cher!” Toni yells.

Cheryl takes a sudden step back.

Takes a deep breath.

Blinks once. Twice.

And quietly says, “I’m not reading it.”

“Fine, I will,” Toni responds sharply. She grabs the manual off of the bed in anger. She opens the book, flipping through the pages before settling on a passage, “Oh, here’s a good one, Cher. This one’s on ‘ electroshock therapy’. Isn’t that lovely?”

Cheryl bites her lip. “Stop.”

“'Studies have shown that by creating a negative association with homosexual behavior, patients-’”

Her fingers grab onto the edge of her shirt, twisting the fabric between them. “Just stop, Toni,” she pleads. She can’t keep listening to this. She can’t hear this.

Toni continues on. Louder this time.

“‘-will experience fewer feelings of desire for those of the same sex and will feel a strong aversion to homosexual behavior.’”

Cheryl bites down hard and closes her eyes. One. Two. Three. Deep breath. One. Two. Three. Deep breath. She opens her eyes again.

“‘Many trained psychologists have come to the conclusion that using electrodes implanted directly into the brain while-’

“Toni, for the love of God, stop!” She snaps, her voice raising ever-so-slightly. Toni doesn’t bother looking up, still reading the page.

“'-showing gay pornography or lewd pictures of the same sex is the most effective way to create that aversion . ’ ”

She can’t listen to this anymore. She needs it to end. For the words to be locked in a box, thrown into a fire, and burned to ashes. And for the ashes to be buried far from here. Far from Cheryl.

This all needs to go away.

Away. Away. AWAY.

“'It is our duty to remove the sin from those afflicted with it no matter how they fight.’”

“TONI, STOP!” Cheryl yells out desperately with tears pricking at her eyes. Toni glances up, her eyes softening slightly at the sight of Cheryl. She sets the book back onto the bed and takes a tedious step forward.

Cheryl moves back, shaking her head.

Toni wrings a hand through her hair. “Cheryl, don’t you see what we can end?”

“I can’t, Toni, I just-”

“This isn’t only about you, Cheryl! This could save so many kids and what? You’re scared you’ll get in trouble?” She scoffed before adding viciously, “Don’t be so selfish.”

Her anger bubbles to the surface and Cheryl can’t help but laugh, “Are you kidding? Of course, I understand what’s on the line. Of course, I understand the kind of good that could come of this.”

Cheryl understands more than anyone how much is riding on this case. She understands more than anyone how much that place deserves to be torn down. How that vile building tears people to shreds and stomps them in the ground.

Cheryl gets it.

Toni’s the one who doesn’t.

“You’re not acting like you do,” Toni snipes. And Cheryl can’t even believe Toni is saying this.

“Oh, right. I forgot that I live in some kind of bubble. I can’t understand the real world, can I?” She asks with sarcasm lacing her voice. She laughs humorlessly and says, “Gee, I must be the worst person alive, right, Toni?”

Toni shakes her head. “No, you’re not, Cheryl just-”

“No, no, Toni, you’re right. I’m awful. I mean, trying to shut down a conversion therapy center? Ugh, just terrible, isn’t it?”

Toni’s eyes narrow as she says, “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

A sigh leaves her leaves her lips as she sits back on the bed. “Toni, can’t you see how hard this is for me?” She pleads with a shaky voice. “This hurts , Toni. This hurts so terribly bad. And to fix that pain you think you have to go and illegally break into some convent. I can’t use that, Toni. I can’t do this.”

Toni purses her lips before sitting down next to Cheryl and wiping a tear that had managed to fall upon porcelain skin. “Cheryl, this hurts me too,” she asserts as softly as can. “I can’t just sit around and watch you in so much pain.” She grabs onto Cheryl’s hand, linking their fingers together. “I can’t sleep knowing people who’ve done this to you could go on living normally. It’s not fair .”

Cheryl wants to tell her that using illegal evidence isn’t particularly fair either nor is it necessary, but she swallows the words and instead says, “I know, Toni, but you can’t just go sneaking around behind my back. You promised to stay away from this.”

“I just want this to turn out, Cher.”

“So do I, Toni.”

Toni glares at Cheryl with frustration in her eyes. “Then why won’t you-”

“Toni, drop it!” Cheryl snaps and adds, “Let’s just go to sleep and discuss this in the morning.”

Toni swallows thickly before saying, “Whatever.”

 

~~~

 

Pop’s has always been a sort-of safe haven for the residents of Riverdale. The place has this pure and wholesome energy in it. With its fifties jukebox and colored lighting. It’s been known for having some of the sweetest milkshakes around made by one of the sweetest men to live in this bleak town.

The diner is frequently filled with young couples looking for a nice night out and friends looking for a cheerful atmosphere to catch up. There were regulars and one-timers. Those who had been banned and those who were given a free basket of fries.

Betty Cooper and Veronica Lodge went there every week to catch a bite to eat. Pop Tate has their orders memorized by now. All the two girls have to do is walk in and take a seat at the booth they always sit at and it wouldn’t take long for Pop to get the girls’ food along with their milkshakes.

Tonight, the two girls had done so as normal. They’d chatted about their math test that day, with Betty complaining about the boy behind her who had cheated off of her while Veronica scoffed at the girl beside her who kept shifting her shoulder so that Veronica couldn’t see her paper.

The two of them are opposites for sure. Veronica, the rich girl from New York with an irredeemable past begging for forgiveness. Her appearance is sharp and her image cruel. Nonetheless, she certainly has a heart filled with treasure, but it’s hard for her to forget how she had tainted it in the city she comes from. Even so, she’s certain Betty Cooper and Archie Andrews can wipe the mud and dirt off of her shining soul.

Betty is the perfect, all-American girl craving something real. Something raw and wild is buried within her, picking the right to come out. She fears it’s her father’s sin. Or maybe she doesn’t. It adds a certain color to her pastel pink world, a blotch of black upon her pearly white walls. She honestly would be grim without it. The blotch has turned her perfect, prim and proper world into something twisted and new, something that could be written in a storybook.

So, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it was her father lurking in the shadows of her conscience.

“I didn’t know Moose was in the RROTC,” Betty remarks, trying to get a better glance at the football player. Veronica turns toward the group of boys gathered at the door. She takes a sip of her milkshake before saying, “He’s really only joined so he can pine after a certain modern-day Joel Cairo. Totally desperate, I can only imagine it ends in untimely disaster.”

Betty frowns, watching Moose laugh along with the other RROTC members. “Moose isn’t gay.” Veronica rolls her eyes, looking behind her once more. She grabs a fry and tosses it innocently into her mouth and informs Betty that, “He’s a total closet-case ridden with insecurity likely to live a sad life of shame and guilt unless…” Veronica trails off with a devious smirk on her face which causes Betty to narrow her eyes. “We help him out a little bit.”

“We’re not outing Moose.”

“I never said that,” Veronica shoots back. She taps her fingers against the table and proclaims, “He just needs to understand that you and I, along with all of Riverdale are accepting and welcoming,” she smiles, obviously pleased with her progressive and definitely not ignorant answer. Betty thinks it over for a few moments before saying, “I think we should just let him be.”

Veronica rolls her eyes once again, “Absolutely not, B. Don’t you want to see a happy ending be bestowed upon this pair of star-crossed lovers? This is a Shakespearian love-story written to end in disaster if we were to sit back and watch like sheeple.”

“I guess.”

Veronica grins, bringing the straw between her lips. It’s unsurprising Veronica would want to see two teenagers be brought together considering her love had been taken from her. Ever since she had watched her dear redheaded boyfriend be handcuffed and taken away she hasn’t been the same.

She stands up and begins walking toward the group of boys now seated in a booth. Upon realizing Betty isn’t following her, she waves her best friend over. Betty stumbles over awkwardly in response. Veronica slides into the booth, bumping innocently into Kevin, and says, “So boys, how are you all on this evening?”

Kevin smiles, “We’re good, Veronica… Why are you here?” Veronica twirls a strand of her hair, asking Kevin, “Can’t I just talk to my favorite gay boy in Riverdale?” Kevin looks to Betty with a cry for help written on his face, but the blonde responds by shrugging and eyeing Veronica worriedly. Betty crosses her arms uncomfortably, glancing at the other boys at the table.

Kevin eyes Moose for a second before sighing, “Is that all I am to you?”

The kids all turn to look at Veronica, awaiting her answer to the unexpected question. Veronica only frowns and says, “What?”

Kevin chuckles, “Veronica, have you ever talked to me and not mentioned how I’m this ‘special gay unicorn?’” One of the boys snickers before quickly stopping himself and turning to Veronica.

“I’ve never said that, Kevin.”

“You might as well have,” Kevin scoffs, glaring at the confused girl. Kevin doesn’t usually act like this. Does he? Usually, Veronica just talks with him about James Macavoy and Chris Pine. He’s her GBF, her stylish scarf. He’s never complained about Veronica coming to him for fashion advice or input on the best Broadway musical. It’s not like he couldn’t have just shifted the conversation subject.

At Veronica’s silence, Kevin continues, saying, “Name one thing I like to do. Just one.”

Veronica blinks a few times. “You like musicals,” she sputters out. Betty awkwardly looks to the ground, while another kid cringes at Veronica’s admittedly poor response. Kevin simply laughs, “Nice, Ronnie, you really showed me.”

Her mouth gapes open for a second before closing again. Her best friend, her ride or die, immediately jumps to her defenses, “To be fair, at least she’s not being homophobic.”

“She doesn’t have to view me as a caricature.” Veronica’s about to defend herself when Betty steps up again, “She doesn’t, Kev. Ronnie is one of the most accepting people I know. This is how she acts with everyone .” Kevin stays quiet for a few moments, likely gathering up a response, but it doesn’t matter what he was going to say because Betty beats him to it.

“Kev, the whole reason we came over here was to offer you and your secret boyfriend support so you two could come out. That shows you how accepting she is,” Betty says with a smile. A really, truly genuine smile. There’s not a bone in her body that believes any of what she said was wrong. She doesn’t think it’s bad when Moose frantically glances to Kevin with nothing but fear and betrayal painted in his eyes. Not even when Veronica’s eyes widen and she jabs her with her elbow.

She realizes what she said wasn’t quite right when Kevin stares at her with a disgusted expression and terrified eyes. That’s when she realizes she had done more than stand up to Veronica; she had all but outed Moose.

The boys are all looking around at each other. There’s six of them. Five options. And only one of them is single. Upon this realization, Moose stands up quickly toward the bathroom. “Shit,” Kevin grunts, running after him.

The girls ultimately return to their previous booth, watching silently for Moose and Kevin to leave the bathroom.

It takes a while.

But eventually, Kevin leaves. Leaves with a beet red face, covered in tears. Betty wants to follow after him, but Veronica shakes her head and tells her to let him be.

Moose leaves later and doesn’t even spare the two a glance.

 

~~~

 

A yellow number two pencil moves between her fingers, marking the paper in her hands with words and ideas. Her eyes and ears are wide, taking everything in. Uncovering the truth. That’s what she does. She finds reality.

No matter how many lies can drip from someone’s lips, Alice Cooper finds the truth. She searches and searches, digging into the ground with a steel shovel made of purity. Trudging through feigned realities made of mud and fallacies made of rotting bone.

She stays unbiased. Perfectly centered. She’s spent years practicing this skill, allowing her mind to be willing to change no matter how certain she feels. Her mind is critical, eager to learn and eager to educate.

Words come easily to her. The skill having been refined since she had first picked up a pencil. She had chipped away at grammatical errors, killed redundancy, and augmented her vocabulary to the point where she was an expert in her field.

She’s a journalist through and through.

There’s a certain power that comes with journalism. The public opinion is written on your fingertips. No matter how absurd, people will follow what they read. Believe what those smarter than them tell them. Or rather people with more power. People who spent four years in college studying how to deliver the public the truth. Why would anyone refute that?

People are stupid. So insanely stupid. Unable to critically think, merely following the trends of today. Who do we hate and why? They follow. That’s it. Alice knows this. People don’t think deeper than what’s presented to them. They like to form their own opinions, but it’s not hard to give them a small push in the right direction. Or maybe hold their hand the whole way there.

It’s still free-thinking, right?

Riverdale had once been a boring town to stay put in for someone in her job, but lately? Lately, it’s been exciting. Twists and turns at every corner. Gang wars, murders, crime, everything a journalist can hope for. Her mind has been filled to the brim with story after story. The letters on her keyboard are starting to wear away and engrave themselves into her fingerprint.

She’s an expert.

She knows what she’s doing.

 

~~~

 

Betty loves, more than anything in the world, solving mysteries. She dreams of becoming a detective. Waking up every morning and drinking black coffee before figuring out who robbed the little old lady on Elm Street.

She’s seen the way crime tears people apart. She’s seen people cry at the funeral of their murdered child. She’s seen guilt flood people at once, tears streaming down their face at the realization of what they had done. She’d seen them on their hands and knees begging for God to forgive them, for Him to allow them past the pearly gates and to their mother who had finally finished knitting their sweater.

Betty sees how sin destroys people from the inside out. She’ll do anything to stop it. To help the victims. And to help the criminals.

In order to become something great, you have to prepare for your whole life. Become a slave to the work necessary for whatever you set out to do. That’s why Betty tries to solve a lot of things in her life. She likes to check herself too. She likes to wake up early and read the paper written by her mother usually. See if she had gotten it right. See if good old Greg had really stolen starry-eyed Archie’s bike.

Usually, she was wrong.

But today? Today she’s so certain she’s right when she reads the words on the morning newspaper she frowns in confusion. She gets up from her seat. Sets down her coffee. And says, “Mom? What is this?”

She throws the paper down onto the counter and stares at her mother questioningly. The blonde woman frowns before perking up and answering with, “The morning paper, honey,” then she pauses and asks, “Do you need your eyes checked?”

Betty shakes her head with a scoff. “No, mom. What is this? ” She taps her finger against the story marked ‘Blossom Vs. The Sisters of Quiet Mercy’ and looks at her mom with a raised eyebrow. Her mom only looks more confused telling Betty that, “That’s a story I wrote. Do you like it?”

Her mouth drops as her eyes go wide. “No, I don’t like it at all. It’s terrible.” Alice puts her hands on her hips as she snaps, “What’s wrong with it?”

“The trial’s not even over!” Betty yells, growing more frustrated. The article was terribly biased and horribly articulated. Not bothering to provide any substantial information to allow anyone to formulate their own opinion, only essentially calling Cheryl a stupid teenager whose claims are groundless and hypocritical.

“Don’t you raise your voice at me!”

Betty groans, “Mom, the trial isn’t even over yet, and on top of that, this-this ‘story’ is so biased. ” The Sisters of Quiet Mercy, of course, was the Catholic orphanage dedicated to helping children and teens live happy, fulfilled lives.

“Well, Betty, I’m not just going to leave all of Riverdale in the dark.”

“Then don’t just light a single match. This isn’t the full story.” Betty presses the heels of her palms into her eyes. This is so bad. Cheryl’s going to kill her.

Great.

Betty is going to be murdered by Cheryl Blossom.

Cheryl’s going to show up on her doorstep with a candle in her hand. Say something sinister and lick her lips. And then drop the candle on their carpet. She’d probably watch in pure delight as the flames would rise up the walls, how the scorching light would lick curiously at the ends of Betty’s shirt. Cheryl would stand there with her fiery red lips hearing Betty’s burning white screams of agony.

All because of her stupid, idiotic, vengeance-obsessed, selfish mother.

“Betty, I only gave facts.”

“The facts you wanted people to hear,” she scoffs. She grits her teeth and asks, “Has Cheryl taken the stand?”

“Yes.”

Betty swears she could almost scream as she snaps, “You didn’t even mention that!”

Is her mom kidding? The bulk of the article should be about what Cheryl endured, or ‘supposedly endured’ at the Sisters. Hell, it should at least mention it. Just a solid line or two. Betty barely even knows what this trial is even about. Just that Cheryl’s unreliable and the Sisters are a part of Riverdale’s roots.

What kind of child abuse? Are they talking some means words? A couple of knees to the ribs? Or something entirely more wicked?

Alice Cooper was supposed to tell her that. Instead, she tells her, “It’s unimportant, Betts.”

“In what world is that unimportant?!” Betty yells.

“Betty, I didn’t outline Mrs. Woodhouse’s time on the stand, so why would I outline Cheryl’s?”

Betty runs a hand through her hair with a scoff, “You should’ve written about both.”

Betty finds it obvious who’s in the right. She might not have watched the trial, but she can’t imagine why someone would lie about something like this. At school, she had seen Cheryl’s heavy eyes and weary face. Had seen her shoulders droop further and further down with each passing day. Had watched her and Toni fall farther out of the limelight and gravitate away from the attention they’d usually crave. Betty knows who’s right and who’s wrong.

Honestly, just about everyone does. There can’t possibly be a single soul in this sad, rainy town who believes the Sisters are truly innocent. But the poor, old man down the road can’t believe the convent is abusive, what would that mean for his dear sister who stayed there for a few months in their adolescence? He can’t fathom the possibility of his parents doing such a thing to her. So they didn’t.

And besides, he thinks the convent is just trying to put a little bit of good back in the world. He doesn’t really see the problem in trying to make a kid straight. He figures it’s probably the right way to go.

No one really thinks the Sisters are innocent.

They just want to.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s already written and I’ll obviously be writing a follow-up once the verdict is reached.” Alice shrugs, deciding this conversation is dead in the dirt. She turns around and fishes through the pantry.

“It does matter. You control public perception and this is practically a slander article.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.

Alice turns back around with a granola bar in her hand. “Elizabeth, I would never write anything negative about a teenager , that’s evil.”

Betty frowns. “You did, though.”

Alice takes a bite of the granola bar. “No, I didn’t. That’s a fair article.”

“Mom.”

“Elizabeth.”

Betty rolls her eyes at the second usage of her full name. “You called Cheryl a liar.” Alice’s eyes widen in offense, swallowing quickly. “I said no such thing.”

“You implied it.”

“No, you just drew your own conclusion from what I presented,” she points at the newspaper article and continues, “Never do I make such an assumption.”

Betty leans forward onto the table and scans the paper for what she’s looking for. After a few seconds, she finds what she’s looking for and points to it. “You called her ‘the daughter of a murderous drug-dealer’, that definitely implies that she’s lying.”

“I’m just telling the truth. You draw your own conclusion. And besides, Betty, usually our conclusions are the correct ones, aren’t they?”

Betty frowns before giving up. It’s almost seven-thirty. She can’t miss school.

Hopefully, her mom will figure it out and correct her error.

Notes:

yooo, kudos and comments are always appreciated!! have a nice day xx