The Poison Pen by Caleb Roehrig

Author:Caleb Roehrig
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.

Riverdale has known many tragedies, but there is no denying that July Fourth is a particularly star-crossed date in our hamlet’s history. It marks the anniversary of my brother’s most foul murder, as well as the homecoming parade for the remains of Fred Andrews after his devastating accident. Both men were, in their own ways, pillars of the community. Jason was scion to the Blossom fortune, as close a thing as we had to noble blood, and Mr. Andrews … he was the embodiment of every decent quality to which small-town life can lay claim.

Prior to my brother’s death at the hands of our monstrous father—may he suffer in Hades from torments so horrible that even Hieronymus Bosch could not have imagined them—the Blossom family funded Riverdale’s lavish annual Independence Day celebrations. In our grief, Mumsie and I buried this tradition along with Jay-Jay, unable to fathom feeling festive on or near that dreadful anniversary ever again.

But my heart grew three sizes when I saw how our town drew together to honor the life of Fred Andrews—how the pomp and circumstance of a simple parade served as a balm to souls that had known too much sadness. And so this summer, as I prepared to leave my youth behind, I informed the mayor that the fireworks display would be back and bigger than ever.

The Cheryl of three years ago—perhaps even just one year ago—would have planned to be front and center at the grand jubilé, claiming a place of honor at Pickens Park so all and sundry could pay proper tribute to her largesse. But the Cheryl of this year had somewhere else to be, a dark and secret covenant to honor that took precedence. As the citizens of Riverdale converged to watch flowers of sparkling light bloom against the night sky, the Cheryl of this year stood alone on a shadow-swept road at the edge of town.

With moonlight in my hair, and gloves of black leather shielding my fingerprints, I was waiting to take possession of a stolen car.

Headlights flashed into view a moment before I heard the rumble of the approaching engine—the very loud rumble—and by the time a dinged and dented two-door shuddered to a halt before me, I was already on the verge of apoplexy.

When Jughead Jones emerged from behind the wheel, I snapped, “Perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding. I was led to believe that my services would be required as driver in an act of subterfuge—not a demolition derby.”

“Good evening to you, too, Cheryl.” Jughead’s signature dispassion was as predictable as it was infuriating.

“Was there no older or louder vehicle you could have procured?” I asked next, dosing the words with sarcasm. “The gardener at Thistlehouse uses a lawn mower quieter than this heavy metal concert on wheels!”

“Next time we can use your gardener’s lawn mower, then,” came his barbed reply. “Look, this was all they had, okay? We needed a car that no one would recognize and that couldn’t be traced back to any of us, and this fits the bill—take it or leave it.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.