Chapter 1: Velma Gets a Visitor
The Dinkley household was always a peaceful place, but never more than in the sleepy autumn months. The whole of Crystal Cove was coated in a layer of golds and browns. A chill had taken to the air, an omen for the coming winter freeze, but this transitory period, like an extended adjustment of nature itself, was Velma's favorite time of year. Despite this, however, Velma couldn't shake a lingering anxiety buried in the back of her mind.
Fall was the start of the school year. Likewise, Velma should be preparing for her next college semester, packing her car in preparation for her drive back to the dorms, printing out the syllabus for each of her courses... But alas, she was not doing any of this.
Instead, she lounged in a hammock in her backyard, the hammock precariously fastened to two old, sagging oaks. With her unfocused gaze, she absentmindedly tried to pick out shapes in the clouds, the overcast and the absence of her glasses making the task near impossible. She sighed and closed her eyes. The entire summer she spent in a bored haze, working in her parents curio shop catering to gullible tourists. Considering she wouldn't be returning to the Cordelia Lansbury Institute of Technology, she didn't expect any excitement in her life anytime soon.
She couldn't help but wonder what she'd be doing now had she been able to re-enroll. Unfortunately, that choice was not up to her; however, the blame couldn't be placed on anyone but her. Every day she cursed herself for her recklessness. She couldn't resist the danger and the excitement she got from camgirling in the university library, and for that she paid a hefty price. Of course, her parents had no idea: she'd told them she needed to take some time off to discover herself. She wasn't ready for her parents to know about her online persona, "Velmira." She knew eventually they would be able to get over it, but she was not ready for her parents' perception of her to change so dramatically.
Surely this thirst for excitement hadn't always been present within her. Only after Mystery, Inc. broke up did she find herself trying to recapture the exhilaration she once had. She remained in contact with Fred, Shaggy, and Daphne, but it was nearing two years since she'd seen any of them in person—and to be honest, she hadn't made any truly close friends in college. At least, not as close as the Gang.
Looking up, Velma assumed it was probably somewhere around 7:00 p.m. The sky had slowly darkened, the soft, light blue sinking into a harsher violet; the clouds were long streaks, a sign of a cold front on the way. Velma shifted her weight and leaned over the side of the hammock, planted her feet on the ground, and walked back into the house.
The clock read 9:37 when Velma heard the hubbub. A vehicle had pulled up at the Dinkley household—Velma could hear the engine's growl as it inched up the driveway. Then, the doorbell, and not long after, the footsteps of her parents as they walked to the door. Muffled voices conversed in a casual, polite tone. Then:
"Velma! You've got a friend here to see you!" It was her mother calling to her.
A friend?
"Coming!" Velma shouted back. Who'd be paying a visit this late?
Velma left her room and descended the carpeted stairs to the living room, then walked to her parents. They'd already let this "visitor" in. Then, as she laid eyes upon this visitor, she started to understand why. Before her was a thin, orange-haired young woman, wearing a purple dress (with lavender heels to match)and a green scarf around her neck.
Daphne Blake.
The girl's head perked up asVelma approached. "Velma!" she exclaimed, dashing over and enveloping Velma in a bear hug so strong that it seemed at odds with the girl's small frame. Velma returned the hug, and after a moment Daphne pulled back, an almost comically exaggerated grin on her face. Velma's parents watched for a few moments, then retired to their bedroom.
"Daphne! It's so good to see you!"
"Same! Or—well, it's good to see you too, I mean."
"So...what are you doing here?"
Immediately, Daphne's eyes constricted, and the corners of her mouth fell. She seemed to be looking for the right words. "I, uh... Can we talk in your room?"
"Uh... yeah, sure."
The two girls began ascending the stairs. Velma's head raced with millions of possibilities. "Danger-Prone Daphne" must have found herself in a bit of a pickle.
But it's not like she's been investigating any mysteries... What are you up to, Daphne?
When they entered Velma's room, Daphne shut the door behind her, then fumbled for around thirty full seconds trying to figure out how the lock worked before finally Velma informed her that it'd been broken a few months ago. Nervously, Daphne sat down on Velma's bed, her posture unnaturally stiff. She sat looking at her nails for a bit. When Velma got tired of waiting, she said, "So, Da—"
Two syllables were all that were necessary to reduce Daphne to a sobbing, quivering mess. She flipped over, burying her face in Velma's blankets. Velma put a hand on Daphne's back, not exactly sure how to comfort her.
However, at about the fifteen-minute mark, Velma started to lose her patience (and some of her sympathy, considering Daphne hadn't divulged a single detail of whatever predicament she was in).
"Daphne?"
Daphne didn't respond—she continued as if she hadn't heard anything, bawling her eyes out, her cries only slightly muffled as she planted her face further down into Velma's mattress.
Velma made another attempt: "Daphne, come on, talk to me."
No change.
Time to switch tactics.
"DAPHNE BLAKE!"
That got her attention. After initially jumping at Velma's voice, she slowly propped herself up on her arms, and gradually turned around to sit. The entire process was like watching an infant learn how to roll over.
"Now," said Velma, "tell me what's going on. What's got you so wound up?"
Although Daphne was no longer sobbing, there were still plenty of tears rolling down her face. Her lip quivered, and she took a few shaky, shallow breaths. "It's F—" She covered her mouth to suppress a wail. "F—" Her face froze, as if she was in some sort of agonizing physical pain.
Velma was going to have to interrupt if they were going to get anywhere. "Fred?"
Daphne nodded vigorously. She laid down on her side and retracted her limbs into the fetal position. Velma could now see where Daphne had been sobbing into her blankets: a near-perfect imprint of her face had been painted onto the fabric. It might as well have been the goddamn Shroud of Turin. Only this dumb-ass wasn't being crucified.
When she was able to collect herself (rest assured, it took long enough; Velma had simply stopped watching the clock), she started recounting the days events. "At noon, I was at a Plato's Closet with a pantsuit I'd been meaning to get rid of, but they said it wasn't trendy enough to take, and I argued with them for, like, ever, and they still didn't take it. So then I was driving home and I passed a Panera Bread, and, y'know, it's Panera Bread, what else was I supposed to do? So I got down and I started texting Fred to ask if he wanted anything, but then I was like, 'No, I'll make it a surprise,' and I got him his favorite, and I even picked out a dessert, and it was a pain in my ass to carry it all to the car, but I did it, and I started driving back home. When I got there, I saw this shitty little Mitsubishi, and I thought maybe he'd gotten something delivered, 'cause I didn't tell him I'd gotten him something, so I parked and started hauling ass, grabbing everything, and I ran to the door, but I couldn't reach the doorknob 'cause I had all that stuff in my hands, but I was able to get my foot up and twist it enough—thank God it wasn't locked—and I ran in to see where he was, and—..."
Velma sat there, listening to every insignificant detail. I guess I'm a trauma counselor now?
"Who was there?" asked Velma, itching to get to the meat of the story.
"It was—... It was some ugly blonde bitch. I don't know her name, but I'm sure if you told me her name I'd be like, 'Oh yeah, that's her,' 'cause I've seen her on campus before— But anyway, she was there, wrapped up in the bedsheets, and I think she was naked, so I covered my eyes and said, 'Oops, sorry, am I intruding on something?' And she didn't say anything. So then I decided to just look at her, 'cause she didn't seem too self-conscious or anything, and she was smiling. And so I asked her what was going on, and then I noticed that someone was taking a shower. And then the girl said, 'Me and Fred just got done playing.' So I was like, 'Uh, that's a little vague. Were you guys literally playing a game, or studying, or...' And then she cut me off and said, 'We just got done doing sex '!"
Velma would later find out that "doing sex" was not what the girl said, but merely an invention from the grief-stricken mind of Ms. Blake.
Daphne continued: "So I didn't believe her, obviously, because me and Fred both have a promise ring—I bought it during summer break after our freshman year—but then I saw his ring on the nightstand, and he never took that thing off around me, like ever, not even to shower. And then I realized, he took it off because he knew he was cheating! He hadn't been seduced by this girl without knowing, he had consensually hooked up with this bimbo. And then... Honestly, it all happened so fast, but what I know is that eventually I ran outside, got in the van, and drove as fast as I could, and I drove like that for a while, and around 8 I was like, 'Hey, I'm not that far from where Velma lives,' and so I came here."
Velma's head was spinning just from trying to follow Daphne's stream-of-consciousness narrative; after a few moments, though, something seemed odd to her.
"Daphne, you don't drive a van, do you?"
Daphne's tears stopped. Her posture became more rigid, and her eyes were wide open.
Velma started putting two and two together. "Daphne, you didn't...did you?"
Daphne seemed to ashamed to give a spoken answer. Velma walked over to her window and peeked down at the driveway. Sure enough, there was the Mystery Machine in all its glory.
Velma sat down on the bed. "Daphne, why did you steal Fred's van?"
"I swear I don't even remember it—honest! I guess when I blacked out I grabbed his keys or something. But I seriously didn't even realize until I'd made it to Crystal Cove! I also must've grabbed clothes and my wallet and my other stuff, 'cause it's all in there, too!"
The "it-all-happened-so-fast" held less and less water by the second. Still, Velma was shocked by what Daphne had told her.
Fred? Cheating?
They had been dating since—
...Well, since forever, honestly. Velma couldn't remember a time when the two weren't together. And she certainly didn't remember them ever taking a break or even having any significant relationship issues. Daphne had told the entire Gang about her decision to adhere to celibacy—and Fred's decision to go along with it, even though he was visibly unexcited—but Velma never expected he'd resort to cheating on her.
For the next hour or so, Velma tried (in vain) to comfort the convulsing mass next to her. When Daphne had finally run out of tears to cry, she laid back flat on the bed, exhausted. Her eyes were marred with rings of mascara. Velma kept quiet, thinking a silence would be good for her—that, and she didn't have any idea what to say. When Daphne finally spoke up, Velma jumped.
"Velma?"
"Yeah?"
"...Do you think it would be okay for me to spend the night here, at least for tonight?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"You sure your parents are okay with it?"
"Trust me, they'll be excited that I have somebody sleeping over."
Daphne's deep-set frown lightened a bit, and she got up to hug Velma again, slurring a string of nonsense. Still, Velma could make out "Thank you" amidst the unintelligible rambling.
It was 1:00 a.m. when the two girls were finally settled in bed. Velma had gotten out an air mattress, and Daphne had gone to retrieve a heap of her personal effects from the Mystery Machine. When they were finally lying down with all the lights off, neither of them were tired enough to fall asleep, so they filled each other in on how life had been going.
Daphne's mouth was agape when Velma admitted she wasn't going back to school.
"Velma Dinkley? A drop-out? I'd never have guessed, not in my wildest dreams."
"Well, I didn't 'drop-out,' exactly."
"Oh?"
"I, uh... I got expelled." She almost whispered the final word, and immediately felt a deep shame.
"Expelled? There's no way! What for? I know you didn't cheat or something. Right?"
"Right, I didn't cheat. I... Well, this is a bit awkward."
"Awkward? I just had a meltdown in front of you. Velma, you know you can trust me."
"Yeah, but..." Velma tried to muster up the courage to tell the truth. "Do you promise not to think of me any differently?"
"I would swear on a Bible if you have me one."
Point taken.
"Okay... I got caught playing with myself in the library."
"'Playing'? Playing how?"
"You know, like...inappropriately."
"I'm not following."
"Like...masturbating."
Daphne let slip a gasp. "You— Wh—" She struggled to order her thoughts. "Why the library? Couldn't you have waited 'til you got home or something?"
"Not like that, Daphne. I'm...a camgirl."
Velma couldn't see in the dark, but she knew Daphne's eyes must have widened even further. "A camgirl? "
"Do you think I'm a pervert?"
"Not really, I just didn't think you had it in you, to be honest."
The two girls chuckled. Velma felt a weight being lifted from her. "I didn't think I did, either."
"So, like, did you have a following?"
"Sort of. Last time I checked, I had 10,000."
"10,000? As in, subscribers?"
"Yeah..."
"Jesus, Velma, you're famous! 10,000 guys were watching you do...it, and they were paying you! I don't know why I haven't tried doing that."
"Aren't you waiting 'til marriage to even have sex?"
"Yeah, sex, but if I just DJ'd my clit on camera, that wouldn't count. Plus, it'd be a job, and God understands if we have to do something for a job."
They laughed again.
"Also," said Velma, "it's not 10,000 guys. It's mostly guys, but my content is more aimed at girls, if you catch my drift."
"Oh my God. Are you coming out to me right now?"
"...Yes."
Daphne hopped up from the bed and embraced Velma warmly.
Deep down, Velma knew Daphne would understand, and now that it was out in the open, she felt more free than she had in years.
Daphne went on to ask Velma more questions about when she knew, how many other people knew, whether or not she marched in pride parades, and so on and so forth. Velma answered each query, not annoyed, but slightly amused at how little Daphne knew.
After Daphne's friendly interrogation was over, she settled back down onto the air mattress, and the two chatted a little longer before they started to feel sleepy. Daphne was the first to succumb, and Velma followed soon after.
That night, Velma enjoyed a truly stress-free slumber—the first she'd had in who knows how long. And hopefully, not the last.
