They said that crazy ran in the Cooper family.
The 'they' in question weren't anyone worth listening to, were the same people that would scrawl SERPENT SLUT on a locker in pig's blood. They didn't know what they were talking about. Polly had been at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy because she'd been pregnant, because she'd been a scandal, because what really ran in the Cooper family was secrets
Another one: The Cooper family of which that pernicious they
spoke hadn't existed beyond a generation or two back. Her great-grandfather had been a Blossom, a family that didn't even care that Polly and Jason had been related, had considered that a plus
if anything. If there was crazy in the Cooper bloodline at all, maybe it came from there. The Blossoms certainly seemed to have plenty to spare.
But maybe it didn't come from anywhere. Maybe it was just her, just something inside her that didn't come from anywhere else. Maybe the crazy was just all Betty Cooper.
Because as much as she liked to pretend otherwise (and oh, wasn't that hypocrisy, in her railings against the secrets covering over the rot in Riverdale), the facts were these: Betty Cooper had lost time. She sat now on a train she had no recollection of boarding, traveling to a destination she didn't remember seeking. She'd been with Jughead, in his father's trailer -- his, now? She didn't know, now that FP was in prison, now that Jughead was living on the Southside, attending a different school, potentially living a different life -- and then with no gap, no seam she could pick at with the same nails she dug into her palms more and more often, she had been here. On this train.( Cut for length. )
She stabbed at the power button, shoved the phone back in her pocket, and slammed her palm against the glass of the information booth. "Hey!" she said, hammering on it before she had to step back, breathing hard. No help there. She'd help herself. She would have to help herself. She could do it. Someone had left the envelope. There was a thread. She could follow the thread. She would put her hair up in a ponytail, she would march out of the train station, she would ask where she was, she would work out what to do from there.
She would do all of this once she stopped feeling like she was going to unravel.[Traditional debut style! Find her in the train station or wandering wide-eyed around the city.]