Hey, peeps! So, I've decided to start yet ANOTHER fan-fic- something you can expect every twice in a while- and I hope you'll enjoy it.

I was thinking about that Scooby-Doo movie they put on TV, where the Mystery Inc. gang met. In the movie, they meet as teenagers, and I couldn't help but recall an old SD show where the gang knew each other as kids. Most of you would remember the show as: A Pup Named Scooby-Doo. …So, I got to thinking: What would it be like if the gang met as kids?

And, thus, the plot was born!

Disclaimer: I don't own Scooby-Doo… even though that was my childhood dream. *sigh*

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I wasn't the most coolest kid in school. I wasn't athletic like the other boys…

Or smart like some of the honor-roll kids…

Or good-looking…

Or talented…

Or brave…

Lets cut to the chase and say that I was so uncool, that the only way anyone would pay attention to me was if I did something stupid… and they paid attention to me five or six times a week. Even the nerds made fun of me- and I'm pretty sure most of them spent most school hours hanging from the flagpole by their underwear. And don't get me started on how the bullies treat me… I'm just glad I was born a fast runner.

My name is Norville Rogers… basically one reason why the kids pick on me. If you have a funny name and you went to school in Coolsville, I'd suggest you change it fast to save yourself from a swirly. …I don't know why my parents gave me a name like 'Norville'. Maybe some parents develop a sense of cruelty when their child is born and name them something that causes their classmates to point and laugh. I've been trying to come up with a nickname for myself since kindergarten, but with no success.

The other kids in my class were no help, either. The only names they would come up for me would be: "coward", "wimp", "moron", "loser", "weenie", "idiot", and "the bottomless stomach". …That last one was invented when everyone watched me eat.

You see, unlike most kids, I'm always hungry. I mean, there's always food in my house and everything, but I always want more to eat. And I'd eat anything: pizza, pasta, candy, soup, ice-cream, chocolate-covered hotdogs, cream-filled corn-dogs, bacon smeared with marshmallows… most kids found some of these things disgusting, while I found them delicious.

Can I help it if I grew up by a garbage disposal?

So, as you can tell, I'm not exactly 'cool'.

…And that's one reason why the school bully, Red Herring, dunked my head in the toilet this morning. Luckily, I've gone through this before, so I knew when to hold my breath, and I had been practicing holding it for about 30 seconds just in case.

"Have a drink, Rogers!" Red said to me, then let me go, pushing me to the ground. "What a weenie."

I shook my wet head, then walked over to the towel-dispenser, opening it and taking out a hair-dryer I stored in it at the beginning of the school year. I sighed as I dried my hair and the shoulders of my shirt, then put the dryer back and- grabbing my backpack- walked out of the boy's bathroom, heading to my first- and most despised- class: mythology.

Why do I despise mythology? Only one reason: the monsters. From bull-headed creatures to creepy women with snakes for hair, those monsters scared the heck out of me! And it wasn't just those monsters, but ALL monsters: vampires, werewolves, zombies, ghosts, witches, boogeymen, aliens, bog-monsters, gnomes, gargoyles, etc, etc… Don't ask me why I'm so scared of monsters, because there's no reason why I shouldn't be scared.

I sat down in my desk in the back row. I always sat in the back row of the class because A) I was least likely to get a spit-ball in the back of my head, B) There was a small chance that the teacher would call on me, and C) The farther I was from the monster-posters taped to the chalkboard, the happier I was. I sat between two boys: Henry Chan, son of a detective in town. He's Chinese, and has, like, nine younger siblings (big family, right?). The other boy no one knows- he always wears a blue sweater with a hood pulled over his head, and no one ever heard him talk except in first grade- I was sick that day- and for some reason I don't know he never spoke again. …They were basically one of few boys who didn't pick on me, so I felt pretty safe.

…Of course, I wasn't as safe as I thought. As soon as I sat in my seat, I felt something squishy, and I stood up to see that someone *cough*Red*cough* stuck a wad of gum in my chair. I heard snickering and saw the bully and a couple of his lackies hi-fiving each other, so I knew that they weren't showing any mercy today. Sighing, I grabbed a small scraper out of my desk and began to remove the ABC gum off my pants and chair.

The bell rang and we all took our seats. "Alright, class, open up to page 93 of your textbooks where we left off yesterday…" our teacher was saying.

I didn't exactly listen. I took one peek at page 93 and nearly had a heart-attack. On the page was some weird dragon-like creature with over a dozen heads, and I didn't feel like looking at any of them. Like, why do students have to learn this stuff? I thought. School is basically all about math, reading, and sports- why do we have to learn about monsters? It's not like we're going to come across any in real life! …At least, I HOPE not…

"…Mr. Rogers? Mr. Rogers!"

"Huh?" I looked up, seeing that everyone was looking at me.

"I asked you a question, Mr. Rogers. Tell me, what was the consequences heroes faced if they were to cut off a hydra's head?"

Zoinks! I bit my bottom lip, sweating as the whole class stared at me, waiting for my answer. I never read any mythology stories, so I had no clue what would happen if someone cut off a hydra's head- I didn't even know what a 'hydra' was, and I didn't want to find out! "Um… well, uh…"

"Weenie," I heard Red whisper to a couple of his lackies, and they quietly snickered.

"Um, it would, um…"

"The hydra would grow another head. The more times it was decapitated, the more heads it grew. The only way to keep a head from growing was to burn the stump of the neck," a different voice answered.

We all looked over, seeing a new girl standing in the doorway, the principal behind her. She was shorter than the rest of us, with brown hair, large round glasses, wearing an orange vest over a white sweater and a burgundy-red skirt.

"Oh! Who is this?" The teacher asked.

"Allow me to introduce your new student: Velma Dinkley." The principal said.

"Pleasure to meet you," The girl, 'Velma', said.

"Well, Velma, why don't you take a seat?" The teacher suggested. Velma did so, taking the empty desk in front row.

I sighed with relief. Saved by the new kid… I thought. I looked at her, watching how she answered every question, always being the first one to raise her hand. …Which wasn't good, since Red was preparing a spit-ball with her name on it. He stuck it in his straw, preparing to blow-

"Like, look out!" I cried, and suddenly I found myself diving between the spit-ball and Velma, feeling it splat against my forehead.

The rest of the class was in an uproar of laughs. "Mr. Rogers, I've had enough of your fooling around!" The teacher snapped. "Now, return to your seat, and if I catch any more of your antics, you'll be in detention for a week!"

"Yes, ma'am," I sighed, walking back to my desk, ignoring a few quiet chuckles. I never understood how bullies got away with their cruel jokes.

When I sat down, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and looked over at Henry. "There's something on your back," he whispered to me.

I reached back, feeling a piece of paper, and tore a "Kick Me" sign off my back… for the ninth time that week. I looked ahead at Velma, who was looking at me curiously. I quickly ducked my head down, hiding the embarrassed look on my face.

First new kid in years, and I look like a fool.

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A/N: Hope this wasn't bad for the first chapter. As you've noticed, I've inserted another 'meddler' cameo- you can expect several more later on.

Please review. I accept constructive criticism.