Archie Andrews, rubbing elbows with the chi-chi celebs in Vanity Fair (2007 issue).
"Archie comes for you when you're roughly 10 years old, when romance is a far-off rumbling. It's a hazy time. Teachers cease to exist the moment they leave the school building. Other adults are incomprehensible beings who hide in offices all day, performing secret tasks. At night Mom or Dad will slam a bedroom door, and you have no idea why. History is a rumor, science a series of magic tricks. Pets die. Grandparents too. Movies are filled with jokes and references just beyond your mental grasp. The choices at the iTunes store are bewildering. The president's father was also once the president, apparently. You like garish colors."