It was a really good thing that I enjoyed those kisses that night—because they were going to end up being two of the last ones I got from Velma after that. Two of the last ones I will ever get from her; she'll never take me back now. I didn't know it, but that night was the beginning of the end. The end of me and Velma... and the end of Mystery, Inc.
It didn't have to be that way. That's what gets to me now, knowing that even then I could've fixed things. Velma forgave me that night, but she couldn't forgive what I would do in the next month. Or maybe she did, I don't know. But she couldn't be with me anymore. I really can't blame her. After that first night that I bragged to the press, I turned into a totally different guy, and it wasn't exactly a change for the better.
Things actually started off okay after that night—though I guess it's kinda mean to say that considering the circumstances—those being that Velma got sick. This was pretty weird, 'cause Velma is one of those people with super-resistance or something, and she never gets sick. She'll tell you that herself and is really proud of it (though when I teased and reminded her of that after she did get sick, she hit me. Okay, so I also threw in some comments about my super-resistance—I'm healthy as a horse all the time.) In fact, I didn't even catch whatever it was that Velma had, even after I spent a whole afternoon right in germ-range.
I never would've guessed that that afternoon would be the last nice time that Velma and I would have together. As soon as I found out she was sick, I decided to do what any good boyfriend would do (don't say it, I know) and headed over to give some serious bedside TLC. Velma's mom let me go on up to her room; by that time she'd gotten used to seeing me over there. I'd never really hung out at Vel's house before we got together in the boyfriend-girlfriend way, except for with the rest of the gang, so I'm pretty sure she and Harold figured out that me and Velms were more than friends. That, and I'm sure she told them—they're a tight family. I don't know what they thought about it, honestly. The Dinkleys are all kinda hard to read sometimes, Velma included. They were kinda more formal with me than they'd been before (they're the only two people that actually call me by my whole name, Frederick) but other than that, nothing. I kept expecting Harold to plunk me down one of those times and have "the talk" with me, but it never happened.
Velma really was feeling bad that day, all hunkered down in her bed, holding onto a great big stuffed teddy bear that I'd won for her when we went to a carnival on a date. She'd named the bear Fred, and had even tied a little orange scarf around its neck. I thought she'd probably like to hold onto the real Fred instead, so I came on in, and she sat up a little and smiled. I loved being in her room. I guess it kind of fascinated me, how I used to go in there when we were all kids, and now even though the room looked almost exactly the same, our relationship was totally different. I went right over and sat down next to her, and when I gave her a kiss on the forehead I found out she was burning hot. Her throat hurt, too, she said, and she was all achy with the fever.
Luckily, I'd come prepared. I'd brought over some ice cream in a little cooler—the good, real stuff with actual cream. Velma loves ice cream no matter the occasion (hot fudge sundaes from the Malt Shop are her favorites) and it didn't take any convincing to get her to eat it. She even let me feed her a few spoonfuls before she got too embarrassed and took over, saying something about being "perfectly capable of feeding herself." I loved getting Velma a little bit embarrassed like that, and I'd do stuff just to see her blush or forget what she was saying. It's adorable, at least to me. Anyway, after that I let her win at Trivial Pursuit (before you laugh at me, let me explain that this means I actually agreed to play) and then gave her a nice, long backrub, which she liked. So did I; any kind of contact was good by me.
I was just finishing up when Velma said something that would stick with me for a long time. It's still there now, running over and over in my mind. She turned over and I saw a big, relaxed smile on her face—not something that you see on her everyday— come to think of it—practically ever. She looked right up at me and said, "Jinkies, Fred, when you put your mind to it, you're the sweetest boyfriend in the world."
It didn't hit me very hard then—I just smiled one of the cocky smiles that she loved and said something to tease her. No, it would hit me hard later... when she took her words back. Oh, she had good reason, because on our very next case, I did it again. Somehow, when I was standing in front of all those cameras with the lights on me and microphones getting everything I said—when I should have been telling everyone about me and Velma—I broke my promise instead. I stole her credit for the second time. But that's not the worst of it. It didn't end there. The next case was the same...and the next... and the next...
I'd thought I'd worked all that out, that I was through doing that. You better believe that Velma wasn't going to believe my explanation about the attention getting to me (though that would come into play later.) She was convinced now that I was just trying to distance us, especially since we knew by then that Daphne was on to our relationship. She might have known before this, but she'd come to visit Velma when she was sick just as I was leaving. Daph may come off as ditzy sometimes, but she isn't stupid. She can put two-and-two together, and me having been alone with Velma, visiting, was some pretty strong evidence when you stuck it with everything else. I'd never done anything like that before.
I didn't believe Velma, of course, but I also wasn't doing anything to prove her wrong—like maybe acting like her boyfriend in public. I paid her lots more attention at first, like splitting off with her on clue-hunts, or having her sit next to me in the van or at the Malt Shop. But that kinda trailed off pretty quickly, not because I wasn't going through the actions, but because it got to the point where I wasn't paying much attention to anyone but myself. Not that this changed the gang knowing about us—even though no one said anything, they knew. I think that Daph wanted to talk to me about it, and a couple of times she sounded like she was trying to get me onto the subject, but I always cut it short or changed the topic. She might have talked to Vel; I don't know.
What it came down to was that we were stuck in some weird kind of limbo, where there's some secret that everybody knows—and knows that everybody else knows. Heck, probably even Scooby had caught on. And it was my fault, though after awhile I don't think I could've fixed it even if I'd brought the whole story out into the open. Way too much damage done. I guess the big question is why didn't Velma do it, but think about it—what in the heck was she supposed to say? "Fred and I have been together for two months but he's too embarrassed about it to tell you? In fact, that's why he's stealing my credit?" Okay, maybe if she got mad enough she might've spit something like that out, but Velma's also way too proud for that. What I don't get now, considering how proud she is, is why she didn't break up with me. Velms has never been one to take any kind of bull from anyone, and that's exactly what I was giving her. Not that I knew it, and believe it or not, if she'd broken up with me I would've been surprised. I was still—you guessed it—in that great place called denial. Either that or total disillusion—I'll get to that in a minute. So why didn't she end things—I honestly don't know. I really don't. Maybe it's just that she'd loved me for such a long time before we got together that she didn't want to let go. I remember one time when I was a kid I wanted to go to this football camp, and I mean I really wanted to. For the whole year before it was practically all I could think about, and I begged my parents to let me go. They did, but when I actually got to go... I found out I hated it. There was this jerk of a head coach, and I was miserable. But when I got home I said the exact opposite, and this is actually the first time I've admitted what a bad time I actually had. It wasn't just that I didn't want to hurt my parents' feelings, seeing as how they'd paid that money for me to go. It was mostly just because I didn't want to admit that something I'd wanted so bad and thought would be so great... wasn't. Anyway, I guess you get my point. Maybe that's how Velma felt, or she could have just been hoping I'd turn back around. Maybe, deep down, she thought she could be wrong about me wanting to push her away, and it really was just all the publicity that was making me act that way. (Which was actually partway true—it was one of those vicious cycle things.) After all, I'd been nice-guy, good-leader Fred for a lot longer than I'd been an attention hog.
But even though we weren't technically broken up, we weren't really together either—not in a happy couple way, let me tell you. I didn't get it at the time, why Velma was giving me the cold shoulder. I know that's dumb, what with the way I was behaving-- I guess I couldn't expect her to be all cuddly after I'd just stood on TV and pretty much shoved her into the background. (It was getting so bad that she really was getting shoved into the background—literally—by the reporters that were trying to get to me, Daph, or Scoobs.) Before, if that'd ever happened, I would have given the reporter who did it a piece of my mind. But it wasn't before, and I wasn't the Fred Jones I had been before—the Fred Jones who took care of the girls and let everyone explain the case. And that was the problem. The more I tried to push Velma back and get attention, the more I got, and it somehow went right to my head. I've always been confident and I like being in the spotlight, but before I'd never let it get out of hand. For me, the fame was like a door that I think I always knew I shouldn't open all the way, because my ego would just run away with it. And it did. I got so worked up with the attention and praise I got that in no time at all Mystery Inc had a first-class jerk for a leader, and Velma an even bigger first-class jerk for a boyfriend. It started to bother me that Velma was acting so distant— after all, I was Fred Jones! Thousands of girls loved me; they followed me wherever I went, screaming and yelling about how great I was. My face was on their magazines and pin-ups of me were in practically every girl's locker. And not only them—women my own age were after me, too. And here I was with a girlfriend who was turning into some kind of ice princess! Didn't she know how lucky she was to have me? So I started flirting with some of the women who flocked around me— I guess to remind her. Yeah, I know that you're hearing this and any sympathy you might have had is flying right out the window. This isn't easy for me to tell you, and believe me I'm not proud of myself. Please keep that in mind... please. 'Cause this next part is the worst of all. I didn't only flirt with all those star-struck fans. I started up again with the girl who had always liked it, who had always made me feel big and important.
Daphne.
Only this time she didn't like it at all.