Chapter 2: The Many Loves of Velma Dinkley Though the digital clock in her hotel room read only 8: 30 p.m., Velma Dinkley was already in her pajamas and in for the night. This didn’t bother her; she’d been out and around constantly since she’d arrived at Spooky Island and could use a night to herself. Everything was happening to her so fast lately, and she wanted a little time to think over all the new developments in her life, of which there were many. She also had to do her laundry-- a very long ordeal, considering the fact that her sweaters had to dry flat and her skirts had to be ironed. What with all the excitement, she’d let herself get right down to her last change of clothes, and she still had at least a week of vacation left. The following day after the rescue, word had been received that the Mud Ghoul had been apprehended, and so the gang had not had to rush off to London as originally planned. The week they had spent together so far had strengthened their re-growing bond, and Velma was happy with the knowledge that they would never go through such a split again. She’d never wanted to be apart from the gang in the first place, though she’d been the first to quit. All she’d really wanted was to feel appreciated; she’d only announced her intent to leave in hopes that the other members would try to stop her and assure her she was needed and wanted. Now, two years and one heck of mystery later, she was completely sure that she was. She need never doubt her place in the group again. She did have to acknowledge, however, that things had not exactly gone how she had planned so far as their latest adventure was concerned. She’d arrived on the island dead-set in her intention to solve the mystery all on her own. After all, wasn’t it she who always pieced the clues together—well, perhaps with some help from Fred from time to time? She had as much confidence and bravery as he did, and as much mystery-solving enthusiasm as Daphne—didn’t she? She had seen no reason why she couldn’t do all the work herself—and finally get the credit she deserved as a detective. In a way, she’d also known that she’d had something to prove—not only to others, but to herself. That’s what she’d meant when she told Fred at the airport that she was on a ‘journey of self-discovery’—or what she’d thought she’d meant at the time. But she’d been wrong about nearly all of that. Wrong that she could do everything by herself, wrong that she didn’t need the gang, and wrong most of all about what ‘self-discovery’ meant. There was so much more to it than that. Even in the midst of the intense happiness she’d experienced in the past days, the nagging thought that something lay unresolved would occasionally confront her. It usually came as the slightest feeling of discomfort; she hated to leave things unresolved. However, she had no idea why those feelings would be cropping up, and so pushed them away as quickly as they came. There should be nothing in her life to bother her just now. She was so happy. Even stuck in her room doing laundry, she was happy. Spreading out her last freshly-washed, damp sweater on a towel on the floor, she leaned back against the foot of her bed and thought over the events of the past week. These had been some of the best days of her life, and Velma, looking ahead, could see that they were to have even better long-term affects. Finally, finally, it seemed that some of the stereotypes that she had been saddled with her whole life were on their way to being extinguished. It was so frustrating to be seen as some kind of walking brain, as a human calculator. Oh, it wasn’t that she didn’t like being “the smart one.” She in fact loved it, and knew that at times she even over-emphasized her intelligence. It was just so much fun to spout out some polysyllabic scientific term and then watch the blank looks of confusion settle over her friends’ faces. What did bother her was that most people never looked past her brainy exterior and saw that she was so many other things. Her close family did, of course, and the gang. When Mystery, Inc. had disbanded and she had moved away from her family to work at NASA, the stereotypes had become nearly oppressive. Though she had greatly enjoyed working there and was proud of her job, there were days when she felt more like one of the computers she worked with than like herself. Now, all that was starting to turn around, due mainly to the press coverage that had been taking place over the past week. This was all rather ironic, as the press had been responsible for propagating some of the rumors and stereotypes about her to start with, back when Mystery, Inc. had first been famous. The first few days after the rescue, the cameras had followed the five friends everywhere, even as they were simply hanging out together. Being back with her friends brought out the best in her personality, and the cameras caught their every candid moment. Through that, the world was seeing a side of her that they had never been exposed to before-- her fun-loving, very non-studious side. Perhaps a bit too fun-loving at times-- she rather wished that one enterprising cameraman hadn’t caught her participating in one of Shaggy and Scooby’s belching contests (she’d been passing by after having drank a lot of soda and simply had to show Shaggy up)-- but she figured she had to take the bad with the good, and there had certainly been a lot of good. Velma smiled broadly at the thought of her “fan club”-- a group of young men who had followed her around for about a day after the rescue and whose picture was propped up on her nightstand. One of guys, who happened to be extremely muscular and oft-tattooed, had even shouted out a marriage proposal to her right in front of a camera! She’d been incredibly flattered; such enthusiastic attention from the male gender was something completely new to her-- and so welcome! There was also her “boyfriend...” not really her boyfriend, but the heavy-metal guy that the media had wrongly attributed to that role. She hadn’t minded, and she knew that he hadn’t been the one who had given them the wrong information. He just seemed too direct to tell that kind of a falsity, and for some reason she trusted him, though she didn’t really know him very well. But no matter how all that had come about, she knew that it, plus so much else that had happened, was doing great things in turning some of the stereotypes and rumors around. Yes, they were going to take a while to die out, and yes, she would always be the “smart one.” That part was great with her, and as for some of the others... she would just have to let them be. If there was ever a girl who was comfortable with who she was, that girl was Velma Dinkley, and she was not going to go changing anything about herself just to please others or try to put down rumors that weren’t true in the first place. Even though she refused to change for those reasons, she did know that there were things she needed to change for herself. There were parts of her personality that she’d recently (during her time at NASA) realized that she’d been bottling up-- mainly, her softer side. There were also aspects of herself that were so deeply buried that she didn’t know all about them-- all she knew was that they were there, just out of her understanding. That was what her ‘self-discovery’ had been about, before she was even invited to the island. Back in her days with the gang, she’d been so much more open, more sentimental, at least as she grew older. After they’d broken up, she’d lost so much of that. Sure, she’d always been a bluntly sarcastic smarty-pants who was much more likely to lecture or let out a zinging quip at someone than to emote-- and she liked being that way. She just wondered if perhaps she sometimes used those traits to hold off her deeper, softer feelings. The part of her personality that she knew the least about-- and so, she figured, the most deeply locked-- was the part of her that wanted romance. That was all she knew--that she wanted a relationship. She had no idea what she would even be like in one, never having had much of a chance to find out. When she had been asked out during her time at NASA, it was always by super-intellectual, older men, and almost always to some sort of lecture or science exposition. While they were invariably very nice men and she appreciated their asking, their “dates” were hardly her idea of romance, and even they were few and far between. Some people misinterpreted her lack of dates as a sign of disinterest in men, but this was completely untrue, and it certainly didn’t help matters any in her chance of ever finding Mr. Right-- or even a few Mr. Wrongs, for that matter! Velma smiled as she thought how surprised people would be if they could only get into her mind and see how absolutely man-crazy she really was! Though there were those days when she felt like the proverbial dried-up old spinster (which, considering she was only in her early twenties, was ridiculous, as she well knew) there were others when she was half-convinced she’d run off to a Las Vegas wedding chapel with the cute pizza-delivery guy if he asked! It has GOT to be hormonal, Velma concluded, laughing at herself and tipping her head back to rest on the edge of the bed. Her feelings were really nothing new. In high school, for instance, while everyone thought she had her nose buried perpetually in her schoolbooks, she... well, didn’t! It probably would have surprised everyone to know that she cared just as much about dating and the opposite sex as they did. She had her crushes, just the same as they did-- the only difference was that she kept them to herself. In fact, much as she had disliked admitting it to herself in later years, back then she had had the most silly little crush on... Freddy! There was scarcely a girl at Coolsville High who didn’t in those days. He had it all: the classic good looks, strong jaw... and those muscles... Thankfully, the crush was not serious in the least; it was purely physical, or nearly-- his strong and dauntless leadership had had quite the impression on her as well. But even as an inexperienced 15-year-old she had known there would never be anything between them, even had he not been crazy about Daphne from the very start. She didn’t care enough to have ever been jealous of Daphne and Fred’s relationship. What did perplex her a bit was the way in which her attraction for good ol’ Freddy had been popping up recently. She’d thought it had been short-lived, something that ended far back in her teen years, but evidently that wasn’t true. Velma began to feel the slightest bit embarrassed as she recounted the memory of seeing Fred at the airport after the gang’s two-year separation. The time apart must have made her forget just how handsome he was, and seeing him again, only inches away and looking incredible in his shades and leather jacket, seemed to make her forget why she’d ever been angry with him in the first place. She’d had to turn her face away to hide her suddenly bashful smile, all the while mentally willing herself not to start blushing. Luckily, Fred had been too focused on showing off his new book to notice her behavior. In retrospect, Velma thought it almost impossible that he hadn’t, considering the blatantly obvious way she’d been looking him over before she managed to check herself, and then how she’d grown so awkward because of it that she’d momentarily lost her powers of speech. That happened so often when she was around an attractive man... silly, really. The only guy she could not remember having that problem with was... Shaggy. Ah, Shaggy-- Velma couldn’t even begin to count all the times she had been teased about a potential relationship with him. Even though they were so vastly different, she supposed it just made sense to people. After all, Daphne and Fred were a couple (more or less) so didn’t that naturally pair up the other two? But much as she disliked the idea of being with someone on “default,” there was no denying the truth, nor did she wish to. There had been something between them, and far more than her school-girlish infatuation over Freddy’s good looks. It too had been in the early days of the gang, and it had started so slowly that she was half in love with Shaggy before she even realized it. It just came to her one day that all her playful (and sometimes not-so-playful) bossing and lectures to him were more than simply trying to get him to stop acting like a total coward. (She’d always known that he wasn’t really a coward, no matter how much the opposite seemed true-- and their time on Spooky Island had certainly proved her right.) It was actually her way of flirting. So too was all the care she took of him. She could remember once carrying around his cough medicine when he was sick, just so she could be the one to give it to him. On top of that all, how many ways were there to interpret her huddling right into his arms when she was scared by the occasional frightening ghost?! Or pretending to be scared, for that matter? The one major problem with the whole situation was that Shaggy was really not the best person that a girl could have a crush on, especially one who was not sure how to show her feelings. Oh, in some ways he was the best crush in the world-- he was so gentle and guileless that he could never intentionally break a girl’s heart. It was just that, in those days especially, he was so food-oriented and so busy running for cover from the slightest scare that she didn’t think he’d ever notice her interest! He always asked her to their high-school dances, even after she’d graduated two years early, but she’d always thought that was because he would forget about the dance until the last minute and find himself without a date. Usually she received no more formal invitation than Shaggy turning up on her doorstep ten minutes beforehand, with Scooby, Daphne and Fred waiting in the Mystery Machine beyond. (He’d done slightly better for his prom.) If she’d ever gotten another date there would have been a very interesting situation, but of course she never had. She had nearly given up on Shaggy ever reciprocating her feelings when she received a phone call from him one night asking her if she wanted to go to the movies--with the gang, of course. She remembered wondering if he’d ever call just for himself. Nevertheless, she’d been thrilled with the opportunity to get away from her studies (she’d had her freshman-year college finals the next week) and have some mindless fun. And mindless fun it promised to be, for the feature at the local drive-in that night had been none other than that classic of modern cinema, I Was a Teenage Blob—Part 2. She had once expounded on the nearly overwhelming corniness of the original, and this one had proved no different. After settling into their favorite movie-viewing seats atop the Mystery Machine, she and Shaggy had proceeded to make fun of the film at every opportunity, and all these years later Velma could remember every moment that had passed between them. They’d been all alone up there, or as alone as two people could be at a popular drive-in. So high up, it seemed that way to them, anyhow. The crisp May air made the metal of the van roof cold, but she was warm in her cowl-neck sweater. Shaggy, who had left his jacket behind, looked a little less comfortable and she’d wondered fleetingly why he didn’t go and sit inside where it was warm. He’d be closer to the snacks, too, when Fred and Daphne got back with them. They had adamantly turned down his and Scooby’s offer to help with the food-fetching-- probably because there would be nothing left to bring back if they did! Scooby had gone off, too-- sniffing around the drive-in for a bit of spilled popcorn or the like. As things had turned out, the movie was even worse in the corniness department than its predecessor, something she wouldn’t have thought possible. In fact, it rather made the original Teenage Blob film look like Academy Award material, and she and Shaggy had soon given up trying to follow what was evidently supposed to be the plotline. It was simply impossible. Fred and Daphne gave up on the film altogether and strolled off to join the group of Coolsville High elite who had gathered by the refreshment stand, while she and Shaggy acted out the film. Shaggy pulled his arms inside his oversized green t-shirt and started doing a very convincing impersonation of the blob itself, while she’d taken on the part of the extremely distressed heroine, gasping theatrically and letting out an over-dramatic shriek when Shaggy was particularly menacing. By the time the film had reached its obligatory romance scene (or what was supposed to pass for a romance scene in a film of that caliber) they had developed a major case of the sillies, probably aided by the giant-sized sodas they had been imbibing throughout the feature. Nevertheless, Velma could recall every word they had said that night. “Oh, Velma!” Shaggy had wailed melodramatically, pulling his arms out from his t-shirt and changing roles to play the teenage hero. “When I, like, heard that you were almost captured, I couldn’t live with myself!!” His voice, usually on the brink of cracking anyway, hit a tremulous falsetto and Velma remembered giggling with the thought that perhaps he ought to have been playing the heroine. She’d had to curb her laughter considerably to even get out her “line.” “I was only afraid that I’d never get a chance to tell you how I really feel!” she’d gushed ardently in return. At that point the two of them lost any semblance of restraint and could only laugh helplessly and nearly hysterically. As they finally came back down again, she had nearly fallen right over Shaggy’s lap; only her hand catching onto his shoulder as she pitched forward prevented it. Their laughing trailed off as she looked up into his eyes. Velma could remember plenty of times that they had been in closer proximity, both before and after that event-- the numerous times that the gang had found themselves in a messy pile-up while ghost-chasing, for instance. And she couldn’t even count all the times they had fallen asleep against one another during long drives in the Mystery Machine (Shaggy, admittedly, did not have the most comfortable shoulder in the world.) But that night, up there on the roof, had been different. So different. The still night air around them had seemed absolutely charged with anticipation. The creepy music from the film soundtrack and all the excited shouts of the teenagers at the drive-in seemed to fade away. Her hand still rested on his shoulder. And that’s when it had happened. One second they were looking at one another, and the next, Shaggy suddenly leaned over and pressed his lips on hers. It all happened so fast that it hadn’t occurred to Velma until after they’d pulled away from each other that she’d had her first kiss. It hadn’t been very long, but it was sweet-- literally, even, because of the soda. For one blissful moment afterward, neither of them had done anything but stay silent, savoring their new closeness. For one moment, everything was fine and perfect. But it hadn’t lasted, and it was Shaggy who had broken the silence. “I am, like, so sorry, Velma,” he groaned, drawing back and throwing one of his big hands over his face. “No... it’s alright,” she had tried to assure him-- more than assure him. She’d wanted desperately to tell him how long she had wanted him to kiss her. How long she had just wanted to be close to him. But the words simply hadn’t come. Now who’s the coward? she’d remembered thinking, trying to motivate herself. A long silence passed, during which they looked away from each other-- out at the drive-in, up at the stars, anything. After a pause, Shaggy had spoken again, his voice quiet. “That was my first kiss,” he told her. “Mine, too.” He’d smiled at her then with that boyish smile she’d been so crazy about. She still was crazy about it. “I’m, like, glad it was with you, Velm. You’re my best friend.” They were such precious words; they meant the world to her. But something inside of her still pressed on, trying to loose the words to tell him that she wanted more. “Well, you and Scooby,” Shaggy amended. “But, you know...” “I know,” she’d replied. After that, they had fallen silent, and they never spoke to one another about it again. Nor did they tell the other members of the gang-- not because it was something they were ashamed or embarrassed of, but simply because it was something that was just for them. It was still one of the sweetest memories that she had, and she knew she would always cherish it, no matter the fact it had been the end, more or less, and not the beginning to a potential relationship. His first words after he’d kissed her-- ‘I’m sorry.’ She knew by them that he must have thought he’d imposed on her; he could have had no idea of her feelings for him. She’d thought they were so obvious-- but she was wrong. Worse than that, she’d never tried to correct that mistake. It would have been so simple to set it all right. All she would have had to do was tell him that he had nothing to be sorry for. That she had feelings for him. Perhaps the kiss had only been an impulse of feeling on his part, but it just as easily could have been an expression of love. She would never know. Though she claimed to hate cowardice and was outspoken nearly to a fault, she had never mustered the courage to talk the matter over with Shaggy, and he was simply too immature at the time to initiate it himself. He had such an easygoing, carefree, even lazy way of living his life that he seemed to expect opportunities and good things to simply drop into his lap. The funny thing about it was-- they did. Velma figured it to be life’s way of rewarding Shaggy for his good nature and loving heart. This combination of personality traits in them had worked against one another, and the end result was that their “romance” never got beyond that evening. Eventually, her feelings for Shaggy had become more and more faint. When in later years he fell in love with other girls, she felt no pain. He was with Mary Jane now, and she couldn’t be happier for him. Shaggy was the most good-hearted individual she knew, and he deserved the happiness that this girl obviously brought him. She’d never seen him so enamored-- not even when he’d first laid eyes on the Spooky Island super-buffet! Velma pushed herself up from the floor and flopped down across the end of her bed, out of the way of a batch of drying sweaters. All of this had made her wonder if she’d learned anything from that event... and she was getting the strangest feeling that she hadn’t. I’m just not a demonstrative person, that’s all, she told herself. I’m not the type of girl who can flirt with the guys, or have them flocking around me. Except for the other day, but that was mostly in fun. Attracting men is Daphne’s department, not mine, and I’m not going to go around practically throwing myself at them, either. Not like I did with... Ben. Velma swallowed hard. She didn’t want to think about the darkly handsome writer-turned-warlock, but she felt compelled to. Never in her life had she been so open with her attraction to any man as she had been with him. Her feelings had been simply overwhelming, like a floodgate bursting. In the four days between meeting him and leaving for his home in Oakhaven, she had thought of him almost constantly and spent her every free moment feverishly re-reading his books. Her dreams had been full of him as well, and she would wake up in the morning so dissapointed to come back to a lonely reality. It was really a wonder she’d managed to concentrate on the mystery at all, and yet it was the mystery that probably saved her from even greater hurt later. It had drawn away just enough of her energy to keep her from absolutely spilling over and openly telling him, or showing him, how she felt. She very nearly had on a few occasions, but even though she didn’t do anything directly, anyone could see how she felt. It was in her every look and every compliment. She saw it. The gang saw it. And... Ben saw it. Velma winced at the memory of the way he’d mocked her, after she’d found out the truth about him. Years later, the words still hurt. ‘What’s the matter, Velma? Don’t you like the new, improved Ben Ravencroft?’ He’d known how she felt about him, then used it not only to trick her but to throw it cruelly back in her face. It was, not suprisingly, one reason why she didn’t exactly race to openly show her interest in a man. Not that I’ve been seriously interested in anyone lately. Except for Ethan. Velma started as the image of that dark-haired, goateed young man appeared suddenly in her mind. Where did THAT come from? she questioned herself. Even the fact that she had thought of him by name took her aback. When she... permitted... herself to think of him, she referred to him only in the most distant terms-- “that heavy-metal guy,” for instance. Why? The force of her question startled her. Why do you want to distance yourself? There’s nothing between you... Velma’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key turning in the hallway door’s lock. It could only be Daphne; anyone else from the gang would have come through the adjoining door from the central living area. At the group’s request, Mr. Mondavarious had provided new accommodations for them so they could stay together. There were two bedrooms with a living room and kitchen area in between. Velma was just about to get up and clear more of her sweaters off Daphne’s bed when the door swung open, and she was rather surprised to see her friend standing there Fred-less. The two had been inseparable since the day of the rescue, as one could imagine. Evidently, though, Fred’s presence had not totally deflected Daphne’s eyes from other attractive members of the opposite sex. No sooner had the two women exchanged greetings than Daphne burst forth enthusiastically with her observations. “Velma, what are you doing cooped up in here? There’s a ton of hot guys downstairs!” she exclaimed, moving a few sweaters aside and plopping down on the bed next to her friend. “I’m sure Freddy would be thrilled to hear that.” Velma smilingly replied. “What? Just because I’m on a diet doesn’t mean I can’t look at the menu! And…” she paused, slyly nudging her friend in the ribs, “I know someone who should be out there hitting the buffet.” Velma had been laughing at her analogy, which, if Daphne did say so herself, was pretty clever, but at the reference to herself her laughter died down, leaving her oddly quiet. “Velma… did I say something wrong?” Daphne asked, concerned. The last thing she wanted to do was to upset Velma right after the gang had re-united, but men had never been a sore subject before. Well, at least not in the general sense. “No, Daph,” Velma replied, but Daphne could read otherwise in her slightly troubled expression. Velma could feel an undistinguishable uneasiness settle unpleasantly into the pit of her stomach, and from somewhere at the back of her mind, words came forward. “Not at all. It’s actually a welcome change. Most people don’t think that I even want to get in line.” She felt a sharp pang as she said the words. Hearing them out loud made them more real somehow, more discomfiting. Of all the rumors and stereotypes surrounding her, that one hurt the most. People seeing her as a walking brain she could deal with-- at least there was some truth to that. It didn’t hurt her so deeply. Daphne didn’t know how to reply. She knew that what Velma had said was the truth, but it was a problem she just didn’t know how to relate to. Or did she? It hadn’t been quite the same, but she knew what it was like to have people think the wrong thing about her. People had seen her only as pretty, but helpless. Maybe back then she was. But what had she done about it-- she’d gone out there and proved herself! Why couldn’t Velma do the same? “Well...” she started slowly, “maybe this is your chance to prove all of them wrong.” Velma smiled weakly. It was so nice to be able to really talk with Daphne again; she’d missed their girltalks over the years. Besides, she knew that on some level her friend could relate to what she was going through. But her own problem couldn’t be solved by learning a new skill, like Daphne’s had. “How?” she asked anyway, curious to hear the reply. Daphne thought it over a second. “I... don’t know. I guess you really can’t just throw yourself at some guy. Okay, so you could, but take it from me-- it’s not a good idea.” Both girls started giggling at that. “But it wouldn’t hurt you to let a guy know you’re interested once in a while.” “You mean flirt?” “Exactly.” Velma sighed. “I wouldn’t know how to flirt if read a book on it.” “See, that’s what I mean! You make it way too hard. And you do know how to flirt. You should have seen yourself doing that song at the lounge!” “Daphne, I was drunk. I don’t think that counts.” Shaggy had gleefully filled her in on all the details of her little performance. She knew she should have been embarrassed about it, but she wasn’t. “Not exactly, but it does mean that you’ve got it in there somewhere. You just have to let it out. Just not that much, okay! You’d have half the guys at this hotel banging down our door,” she teased. It was all very light-hearted, but she knew she was heading into a potentially touchy subject. Two years ago, she wouldn’t have taken it this far, but now she just knew it would be alright. She and Velma were closer than ever, and she figured it was practically her duty to help out her friend. After all, she was the romance expert of the group, wasn’t she? “I’m going to give you an example here. Do you remember Beau?” “Detective Neville? Certainly.” “You liked him. I could tell.” Velma was quiet a moment. There really wasn’t any use denying her friend’s statement, though she found some of her actions around the good-looking, brawny detective rather embarrassing to remember. ‘I’ve always been crazy about a good detective... story, that is!!’ Another classic Velma Dinkley pick-up line. Pathetic. “What about him?” “You liked him, but you never did anything about it. I’m not saying that you had to make a move on him, but you could have shown your interest a little more. You were doing really well at first, but then... nothing.” “I was making a fool out of myself,” Velma corrected. “Did you hear some of those lines I came up with? It’s like every time I’m around an attractive guy I can’t put two intelligent sentences together.” “But it was so cute, Velma! But then you just backed away, like you didn’t dig him at all.” “You picked up on it.” “Yeah, but Velma I know you really, really well. You’re my best friend. I’m also a woman. Women pick up on these things. If you want a guy to ask you out, you have to give him some encouragement. He won’t want to if he thinks you’re not interested. Who wants to chance getting turned down?” “I don’t think I was his type.” “How do you know? He liked detective stories, you sold them-- you’re both smart. I bet you might have been just his type.” Velma looked down and idly picked at some loose stitches on the bedspread with one short, unpolished fingernail. “What about Ben?” she asked, breathing in sharply. She’d never talked about him before with anyone, not even Daphne. That night on the way home, she had only cried on her friends-- she had never once spoken his name. It wasn’t as if she’d needed to. “He knew how I felt.” Daphne’s tone dropped to match Velma’s somber one. “That was just wrong. And I know how much he hurt you. If I could go back in time, I’d clobber the heck out of him for you!” “You could, too.” “Darn right!” That lightened the mood a bit, but Daphne knew she had to continue on the serious track for at least a bit longer. “That happens sometimes-- getting hurt. That whole warlock thing was messed up, though. So look at it this way-- that’s the worst it could ever be! But you can’t let that or anything else shut out at chance with that great guy out there who would never hurt you.” Velma nodded. Those weren’t words she hadn’t thought to herself before, but hearing Daphne assure her of them was comforting. “You’re right. It’s more than that, though. I haven’t figured out what yet, but you’re right.” She paused, looking straight at Daphne. “And thank you.” The two girls smiled at one another, relieved to have gotten through the thick of their conversation. Daphne brightened. “So... what we get to do now is go out there and practice!” “I don’t know, Daph. I think I’m in for tonight.” “Oh, come on Velma! This’ll be fun! Better than laundry! But you gotta spill-- is there any guy in particular that you’ve had your eye on?” She leaned in conspiringly, a mischievous smile playing over her lips. “Hey-- how about that totally hot heavy-metal guy you were hanging around with!? We’ll already have a head start because we know he’s got a thing for you.” Velma felt her heart start beating faster, and the unpleasant feeling again settled over her. Why? “I don’t think so.” “You don’t think so as in he doesn’t do anything for you, or you don’t think so as in he isn’t absolutely bonkers for you? Because if it’s that last one, you’re crazy.” Velma thought over her options and wondered if she’d heard Daphne right. Maybe what she’d meant to say was that she’d be crazy if she wasn’t interested in Ethan. That made sense, because Velma couldn’t imagine that any woman wouldn’t be. Well, perhaps that wasn’t true; every woman was different in what she liked. But Ethan, to her, was... absolutely wonderful. Though she’d not spent very much time with him, she could tell that he was attentive and considerate. Serious for his age, but able to let loose. He seemed to be someone who thought deeply about things; he’d had a pensive look much of the time she’d been around him. And his looks-- perfect. She’d noticed him the second he had sat down across the aisle from her on the plane to Spooky Island. Leaning back on one hand, Velma for the first time left herself drift off into remembering those features that had attracted her so much: his handsome face with those deep brown, intense eyes; his short, dark, slightly wavy hair that curled appealingly at his forehead and just at the nape of his neck; and that slow, easy smile of his that had actually made her feel a bit weak. There was his goatee, too, of course-- so well groomed and shaped that it couldn’t have been penciled on with more precision. She was also drawn to his slim build and the casual, yet masculine way that he walked, talked, sat down, did everything. He fairly exuded sex-appeal, and the best thing about it was that he didn’t seem to realize it. “Hello-- Velma? Come back!” Daphne teased playfully, attempting to snap her friend out of an obvious daze. “I think that answered my question! You’ve really got the hots for him, don’t you!?” It wasn’t really a question. Velma started, as if Daphne had made a shocking revelation. “No, I...” “You do! You should have seen yourself just now. You’ve got it bad.” Velma was feeling more and more uncomfortable, but for the life of her couldn’t understand why. It’s not like you’ve never had a crush before. Granted, it’s been awhile, but... “Daphne, why did you say that I’d be crazy if I didn’t know that he had a ‘thing’ for me?” The question felt strange and unfamiliar on her tongue. “Because he does,” Daphne answered without hesitation, and then was startled to see Velma’s pondering look upon hearing her words. Was it possible that the other girl hadn’t noticed? “Velma... you do know that, right?” “I... thought at first he did. When I first met him. But...” Velma hesitated. The next part involved Daphne, and she would have to phrase it carefully to avoid it sounding like an accusation. “He’d been looking at this—other girl—on the plane...” Velma’s blunt honesty got the best of her. “You, actually.” “No, way. You probably just thought he was.” “It was pretty obvious, Daph. His pupils were practically dilating.” Daphne groped for something to say. “Wait. He was sitting right across from you, right?” “Right.” “I wasn’t even near you guys.” “It was when you were getting something out of the overhead bin right above us.” “Well, how do you know that his pupils weren’t... umm... dilating or whatever at you? He could have been trying to look past me.” “Not likely. Later we were talking and he called you a ‘hot babe.’” “Sorry.” Daphne, frowning, had to admit that this guy had certainly made a misstep there. Maybe he was just nervous or not thinking or... “What for? You can’t help it if guys like looking at you.” Seeing that Daphne looked a bit guilty, which of course was ridiculous, Velma tried to joke. “Must be a heavy burden to bear.” Daphne smiled. “Sometimes it is.” Velma nodded. She hadn’t thought about the stereotypes that Daphne had to face when she made the remark, but it was all meant in good humor and the other girl took it that way. After a beat, Daphne continued. “But so what if he looked at me once or twice. So what if he thinks I’m good looking. He probably thinks just the same about you but just wimped out and didn’t say so.” Velma thought this over. He had felt bad about his comment, that had been obvious. She remembered how anxious he had been to make everything right with her--offering to take her out, buy her dinner. Her heart had leapt at the possibility, but then the idea that it was all for pity had squashed her enthusiasm. Still, she hadn’t been able to tell him no, not definitely. She couldn’t make herself give up even the slightest hope that he might be interested in her, and not just because he felt bad for what he’d said. An image of them together in the cavern suddenly flashed into her mind, and for some reason she could feel her mind try to block it. She hadn’t thought of it in days... not since it had happened, in fact. It was almost as if something in her didn’t want to remember... As if reading her mind, Daphne spoke. “And what about that little scene in the cavern? He looked pretty interested then.” Velma’s mouth went dry, and her heart began beating so hard that she could feel it hammering in her chest like a drum. “You saw that?” she asked, her voice sounding the tiniest bit strained. “We didn’t mean to watch-- Fred and me-- but it was just so sweet we couldn’t help it! Don’t be mad.” Velma did not look angry, but with every word her friend uttered, she grew more and more tense as realization started to rush in and her memory of the event flowed freely through her mind. The flow rapidly became a torrent. “Did you-- “ Velma swallowed, trying to loosen the painful ball of forming tears in her throat. “Did you see how I pushed him away?” “Yeah,” Daphne answered carefully. “But that’s no big deal. I did the same thing with Freddy.” “But you didn’t mean it. And then you took him back.” “You didn’t mean it, either...” Daphne trailed off as she realized with horror that her friend was about to burst into tears. If there was one person she couldn’t stand to see cry, it was Velma Dinkley. She had never meant this conversation to go this far, but something had obviously touched Velma in a very deep way. She’d straightened up on the bed and lifted her chin, but her lower lip was trembling and Daphne knew that she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. She always tried to put on a such a brave front when she was going to cry-- not that she did it very often. Something was very, very wrong, and Daphne felt totally helpless-- obviously, not a feeling that she liked. “Look...” she tried again, shifting herself on the bed, “you probably just got a little scared. It happens that way sometimes. I think that’s why it took me and Fred so long to get together-- we were afraid of ruining our friendship.” “But why was I afraid?” Velma questioned, both to herself and to Daphne, just as her tears broke free. Daphne immediately reached for her, pulling her into a hug so that she could cry on her shoulder. “There was no reason for it,” she continued, now crying hard. “It doesn’t make sense!” Daphne thought over all that Velma had told her while she tried her best to offer comfort, saying all the reassuring words she knew and gently patting her friend on the back every now and then. Both her purple-clothed shoulder and green scarf were rapidly becoming soaked. “I think... it’s because you’ve got it into your head that guys aren’t interested in you. That’s why you always held your feelings in-- because you were so sure they wouldn’t like you back. Then the one time you didn’t hold them in—sort of—you got hurt. I think you got scared when this guy...” “Ethan,” Velma filled in, her tear-choked voice barely a whisper. She’d never said his name out loud before. “...when Ethan just went right through all that. The whole time he was trying to convince you how much he liked you, your mind was trying to protect you by telling you that he didn’t. When he tried to kiss you there wasn’t anything your mind could come up with, so... you just freaked out. It was all subconscious.” “Jinkies, Daph,” Velma sniffed, impressed with Daphne’s intuitiveness. “Freshman psych,” Daphne explained, feeling a bit proud of herself. “All of this stuff was in there so deep that you didn’t know about it. But now you do, so it’s all going to be alright. Just you watch.” Daphne’s explanation of the whole matter was simple, but Velma knew she spoke the absolute truth. I can’t believe that I didn’t see it for myself. The clues were there all along! I knew that I held my own feelings back, but I never thought that I might be holding off the feelings of others. The whole time I thought I was fighting those stereotypes about me... I was inwardly believing them. And not just about men either—about everything. Velma managed a smile. Daphne was right-- now that she knew what she was facing, she could work past it. It wouldn’t all go away magically and suddenly, like Daphne made it sound, but she knew that her friend was trying to comfort her. A ‘journey of self-discovery’ isn’t supposed to be easy, you know, she silently reminded herself. And it doesn’t even have to be made all alone. I have my friends to help me,. and maybe... “Daphne?” she asked softly, straightening up and wiping her eyes. “Do you think Ethan would give me another chance?” Daphne’s smile at hearing her words was radiant. “Oh, Velma... I’m sure he would.” “I haven’t completely messed things up?” “No,” Daphne stressed, taking Velma by the arm for emphasis. “If this were some little summer fling, maybe. But Ethan tried to save you from one of those huge monsters that night. I think we can safely say he cares more about you than that.” Velma looked at once both awestruck and incredibly touched. “He tried to rescue me?” “Mmm-hmm. Shaggy saw it. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. Maybe he didn’t want you to feel bad because... well, Ethan got captured trying to save you.” “I’ve always wanted to be rescued,” Velma admitted, looking about as sheepish as it was possible for her to look. “At least once.” “And I always wanted to be like you-- you never got captured by all those yucky ghosts!” Both girls started to laugh, releasing the remaining tension of their deep discussion. “The irony of life,” Velma sighed amusedly. “Yeah,” Daphne agreed, and there was the smallest space of silence between them. A sly smile suddenly formed on her lips. “Velma,” she began, “I just need to know one more thing.” “What?” “Freddy and I were wondering... what IS it with you and guys with goatees, anyway!?” Velma immediately began giggling, wiping the last of her tears off her face with the back of her hand. “I don’t know!” she admitted, sounding almost helpless. “I mean... there’s Ethan, and that other guy who I won’t mention...” “You just did,” Velma pointed out good-naturedly, though she’d just as soon leave him mention-less as well. “And...” Daphne paused, building up to her big finish, “let’s not forget Shaggy...” Velma gaped at her. “You know about that!?” she spluttered, before she realized what she might be revealing. Immediately she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I do now,” Daphne teased matter-of-factly. “No really, Velma, did you honestly think we all don’t know about your little drive-in smooch-fest?” “I would hardly call one kiss a fest,” Velma cut back in, making an attempt at her usual dry humor. Considering the fact that she was biting her lip to quell her laughter, she wasn’t very successful. “How did you find out about it, anyway?” “Well, you remember how your house was the closest to the drive-in so we dropped you off first...” “Shaggy told you?!” “About five seconds after you left the van. I just don’t think he could hold it in!” “I oughta flatten him for that,” Velma said, but anyone could see that she wasn’t really upset-- more like bemused. Daphne was a little more vocal about her amusement and was having a good laugh, doubled over a pillow that she had picked up to hold in her lap. Velma cocked an eyebrow, glancing over at the other girl as a plan formulated in her mind. “But in the meantime, I’ll just have to take it out on... YOU!” With that, she grabbed up another pillow and flung it straight at Daphne. It caught her square in the face, and the redhead gasped in surprise. “You’re asking for it, Dinkley!” she cried, taking up her own pillow. “This is war!” Velma stood at attention, bringing her hands to her hips and tilting up her chin. “Bring it on, Blake.” Five seconds later, the two girls were locked in full-out pillow combat, and so preoccupied that they thought nothing of it when a knock sounded on the suite door.
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