PART 2: The Carefree, Playful Days

Marilyn Dinkley sat in the Jones' living room, enjoying a cup of afternoon coffee with her former high school classmate. She had brought along her two-year old daughter, Velma, the presence of whom Kimberly didn't mind, as the little girl was remarkably well mannered and quiet for her age. Kimberly didn't often get to spend time with her friend, as Harold and Marilyn were frequently out on field excursions, but the times that they did spend together were always full of happy reminiscing, although now, the discussions tended to center more around child rearing than nostalgic memories.

A happy screech interrupted the idyllic scene as four-year-old Fred Jones ran into the room. The little blond boy shrieked gleefully as he darted around the corner, possessively clutching a small, red, toy car in his hand, his playmate, four-year-old Norville Rogers following close behind on his heels. Marjorie was attending a meeting that afternoon, and Sammy was busy at the precinct, so Kim had agreed to watch little Norville for the day. And although both boys were only four years old, they were already exhibiting signs of distinct personalities, ones that were as different as night and day.

Little Fred possessed a demeanor that belied his young age, a trait that did not go unnoticed to Kim. Fittingly, she took great pride in her little boy's appearance, keeping his corn-silk blond hair neatly combed and dressing him in a very traditional sweater and slacks outfit. Frank often teased her about how she dressed the boy, telling her that if she put a tie on Fred, he would look like a miniature businessman. One day, as a joke, she had taken her husband's advice, and put an ascot around little Fred's neck. And while most children his age would have thrown a tantrum at having to wear such a thing, Fred didn't seem to mind, and would actually put up a fuss every time he was not allowed to wear it. Although still a toddler, Fred was beginning to exhibit an almost marked swagger, walking with his head held squarely, an air of confident superiority about him.

Norville, on the other hand, was a much more laid back child. Nothing seemed to bother him, except that he was very easily frightened and would scream in terror if anyone approached him from behind. He had a thick mop of sandy-brown hair that always seemed to tangle, and a forelock that nearly covered his eyes. "That child looks less like a boy and more like a shaggy sheepdog," his uncle had once remarked, and it wasn't long before the rest of the Rogers clan had adopted the nickname "Shaggy" for the boy. Only Marjorie and Sammy still called him by his given name, Norville, but the boy was beginning to exhibit a preference for his nickname over his real one, although he was still too young to understand that the name had been given to him in jest.

Little Fred tore around the couch, laughing happily, his occasional shrieks telling his playmate 'I got the toy! Try to get it away from me!'

"Okay, that's enough, you two," Kim gently chided, reaching down and taking the toy car away from her son, "calm down."

The little blond boy stopped abruptly and looked wistfully up at his mother. "Have it back?" he asked, stretching his hand as far as his small body would let him in an attempt to retrieve the toy, but Kim Jones held her hand out in an authoritative 'stop' gesture that her son immediately understood. Fred looked at his playmate and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Little Velma observed the goings-on in front of her with wide-eyed interest. From her vantage point on her mother's arm, she reached her hand out and leaned towards Kim who was still holding the toy car just out of her son's reach. The little girl reached for the toy, but grabbed just short of it, her hands coming up empty. Curious, and more than slightly puzzled, she tried again, but to the same result. The frustration was beginning to show on her tiny features, but she still persisted, not quite understanding why the object she was reaching for was never in the same place that she saw it. Decidedly defeated, little Velma gave a scream of frustration that immediately brought her mother to attention. Marilyn had often wondered if her daughter would need to wear glasses—both she and Harold were severely near-sighted—and this incident seemed to confirm what she had long suspected. Marilyn calmed her daughter down, then took the car from Kim and placed in the little girl's hands. Velma immediately began looking at it with an almost scientific curiosity, turning it over, putting it in her mouth and examining it from every possible angle. Once satisfied with her analysis, she gave a contented sigh and fell asleep on her mother's arm, still clutching the little toy car.

Marilyn sighed. "You know, I should be heading home, Kimmie," she sighed, gesturing to the little girl asleep in her arms, "I think Velma's had enough excitement for one day."

Kim smiled at her friend, putting her finger gently under little Velma's chin; the girl didn't even flinch. "We have to get together like this again, soon, perhaps when our kids are old enough to socialize with each other."

Marilyn flashed a closed mouth grin. "Well, I hope it won't be that long before we talk again, but I do like the idea of introducing our children to each other."

Kim escorted Marilyn to the door and helped her out. With her free hand, Marilyn waved goodbye and added, "We'll be in touch."

As she closed the door, Kim's eyes fell upon the two boys who were now sitting on floor playing quietly with a set of wooden blocks, the little toy car forgotten. She paused for a moment and imagined Harold and Marilyn's daughter playing with the two boys. Pleased with the image, she smiled to herself, though she knew it would be several years before that image could become a reality.

Fred Jones tore anxiously down the hallway from his room to his parents' bedroom, bursting through the closed door and yelling excitedly, "Mom, Dad, get up! I don't want to be late!"

Frank Jones rolled drowsily over in bed as his half closed eyes fell upon the numbers of the analog radio clock—6:00 a.m.

"Come on, get up! Hurry! Get up!"

Frank and his wife ignored the persistent wake-up calls from their five-year-old son.

"It's my first day of kindergarten, I don't want to be late!"

Kim opened her eyes briefly, surprised to find that the boy was already dressed, although in his haste, he had put his sweater on backwards and had mismatched more than just a few button holes on the collared shirt that he wore underneath his sweater.

"Get up!" he screeched, louder than ever before.

Frank rolled over again, drawing a pillow over his head to drown out the unwanted noise, albeit unsuccessfully. "Oh, Kim," he groaned, groggily, "why'd you have to get him so excited about starting school?"

Kim shared her husband's desire to return to sleep, but at the same time, understood her son's enthusiasm about the impending adventure. "Frank, just get up," she whispered quietly, so as not to let Fred hear her lack of enthusiasm, "it isn't every day that your only son starts kindergarten—it's a big day for him, let's make it special, okay?" She planted a gentle kiss on Frank's cheek, as though trying to soften the blow of waking up so much earlier than normal.

Reluctantly, Frank sat up and stretched, putting his hand on the mattress to support himself as he got up from the bed. "Oh, alright, I'm up."

"Yeah!" Fred announced, jumping up enthusiastically and turning to leave his parents' bedroom.

Kim smiled at the boy as she slipped her feet into her fuzzy, pink, bedroom slippers and got up off the bed. Putting on her bathrobe, she reached out and put a calming hand on the boy's shoulder. "Woah, hold it there, young man, we still have time—enough time for me to get you dressed properly."

Fred looked down at his appearance and grinned, sheepishly. "Oh. Oops."

Frank yawned, regaining the supine position in the bed. "And enough time for me to go back to sleep and to wake up at a civilized hour." No sooner had he spoken when the sound of soft snores began emanating from the bed.

Kim lovingly re-buttoned the boy's shirt, carefully showing him exactly how to match the buttons to the proper holes. She turned his sweater around and smoothed it out, gently pulling the collar of his shirt outside the neckline of his sweater. "Oh, and of course, I can't forget this." She tied the ascot around his neck and adjusted it so that the ends hung evenly from the knot. "There, now you're all set." She turned the boy around. "Take a look at yourself in the mirror."

Fred stood for a moment, admiring his reflection; he looked so small and so young. Attempting to look more grown up, he posed, folding his hands across his chest, then moments later, standing with one hand at his side, and the other tucked in his pants pocket. Kimberly watched in amusement, unable to believe just how quickly her son was growing up. He was beginning to look a lot like his father, although his mannerisms and attitude were more like those of his uncle, Max. "Alright, Fred, now let's get you downstairs and get you some breakfast so that you have enough energy for the big day."

In a flash, the little blond boy tore down the staircase, followed steadily behind by his mother. Behind them, Frank Jones slept, completely oblivious to the doings of his wife and young son.

Fred stared at the waffles on his plate, regarding them more as play-things than as food; normally, he loved waffles with blueberry syrup on them, but this morning, he was far too excited to eat. He poked at them with his fork a few times, then blurted, "Come on, Mom, I don't want to be late!"

"Freddie, if you don't eat a decent breakfast, you will never last through the school day. Now come on, eat—at least three bites."

The boy put his fork to the plate and cut a small corner off one of the waffles. Mechanically, he brought the fork to his mouth, but in his excitement, found the food to be unpalatable. He put down his fork and sat defiantly at the table, his arms folded across his chest.

Kim sighed in defeat. "Well, at least drink your milk, honey. You will need it to keep your strength up."

Fred dutifully picked up the glass and swallowed it with a huge gulp. Any other day, Kim would have scolded the boy for his manners, but this time, she just smiled in response. Fred wiped his hand across his mouth then pushed back from the table. "Can we go now?" he asked, jumping to his feet.

Kim looked at the clock; it was only 6:45. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to be there a little early," she began, "but let's at least wait for your father."

About fourty-five minutes later, Frank, Kim and Fred arrived at the main building of Coolsville Elementary School, where dozens of other parents and children had gathered in anticipation of the first day of school. Anxious to see if there was anyone in the crowd whom he already knew, Fred milled around the crowd of children, but was never far from the watchful eye of his mother. A familiar looking face caught his eye. "Shaggy!"

The brown haired boy, dressed in a T-shirt and pants, looked around to see who had called his name. "Freddie!" The two boys greeted each other, each somewhat relieved to see a familiar looking face in the crowd.

Kim turned around to look at the other boy's parents. "Can you believe the boys are already in kindergarten?" she asked, a slight tinge of sadness detectable in her voice. Kim surreptitiously wiped a tear from her eye as she spoke. Fred was her pride and joy, and while on the surface she expressed delight at his starting school, inside, her feeling was one of sadness.

Marjorie Rogers shook her head. "No way! You know, just the other day I was saying to myself, 'Man, that boy is growing up so fast, the next thing I know, I'll turn around and he'll be moving out!'"

Kim couldn't believe that Marjorie would say a thing like that about her own son, although the jocular tone in her voice indicated that she was obviously joking. "I know. I feel like it was just yesterday that I was feeding Fred from a bottle, and now, look at him, all grown up and starting kindergarten."

"Well, it is true that the passage of time seems to speed up when one is raising children, however, it must not be overlooked that among many species in the animal kingdom, the human is the one whose offspring is dependent upon the mother for the longest time."

Kim spun around and was surprised to find herself face-to-face with Harold Dinkley. Leave it to Harold to offer a biological explanation for child rearing, she thought to herself with a smile. "What are you doing here?" she asked, curious.

"The same thing you are," replied Marilyn, matter-of-factly, "dropping our child off at school."

Kim experienced a momentary delay in processing the information. Harold and Marilyn's daughter? Starting school? Wasn't she two years younger than Fred? That would make her only three years old, hardly the appropriate age to start school. Kim cast her glance downward and noticed the little girl standing alongside her mother. Little Velma was dressed in a very traditional manner, with a pleated skirt, shirt, V-neck sweater and mary jane shoes. She looked so tiny among the adults—even next to the other children--but the happy anticipation at starting school was clearly visible on the little girl's face, and not even her thick eyeglasses could conceal that happiness. "Don't you think she's a little young?" Kim asked, although she knew that the Dinkleys both held doctorates and both came from solid academic backgrounds.

Marilyn smiled. "Well, I admit that she is a little young, but Harold and I believe that it is never too early to start your child on a solid, academic path, and so we opted to enroll her in preschool at age three."

Harold nodded in agreement with his wife's statement.

Marilyn looked around at the children who would become her daughter's classmates; most were screaming and clinging to their parents, begging them not to leave. Little Velma, however, marched dutifully through the building's door, a broad smile on her face. And these children are older than Velma, Marilyn thought with a proud smile. After speaking briefly with the teacher, Marilyn gave her daughter a gentle pat on the back. "You go have a good time, now, okay sweetheart? We'll be waiting for you when you get out."

Little Velma smiled again and waved, before disappearing into the building, her curiosity and enthusiasm for starting school evidently outweighing the separation anxiety that plagued so many of her older classmates.

The 8:30 morning bell rang, signaling that the time had come for the children to set foot on their new life's path. Kim looked around as other teary-eyed parents waved to their children; she understood their pain, for she was just as hesitant to let her little boy go. Fred turned around and waved bravely to his parents before walking into the building with his head held high in confidence. A new part of his life had just begun.

"I was driving over through Easy Street on the way home from work," Frank Jones mentioned casually one day over dinner, "seems the people over there have got a new neighbor."

"Easy Street, huh? From what I've heard, all the houses in that area sit on one acre lots, have guest houses in their back yards and cost upwards of one million," commented Kim.

Little Fred understood nothing about the conversation, but at the mention of the words 'new neighbor,' immediately quipped, "Do they have any children?"

Frank favored the boy with a broad grin. "Don't know if they do, son," he began, "and even if they did, I don't think you'd be seeing much of that kid. Those Easy Street people tend to keep to themselves."

"Oh Frank," Kim chided, "don't be so discouraging. It's only natural for Fred to want to know if he'll have any other children to play with." She turned towards her son. "I don't know if they have any children, but when you go with Shaggy and Mrs. Dinkley to the park tomorrow, maybe you can ask her if she'll let you walk by."

"Kim, I don't know if that is such a good idea, after all, those Easy Street folks don't take too kindly to those of us from the other neighborhoods."

"Frank, you can't let your son live his life totally insulated from the rest of the world. It will do him some good to see how the other people in the neighborhood live."

Frank grunted a response.

"And besides, if the boys are with Marilyn, what can go wrong? It's not like they can cause any trouble."

Frank shrugged. "I suppose."

The street's actual name was Park Front Boulevard, but since almost everyone who lived there had live-in servants, drove pricey, luxury cars and held elaborate charity benefit dinners every month, residents of the neighboring quarters had nicknamed the Boulevard 'Easy Street.' If you lived on Easy Street, you were either the president of your company, a doctor in private practice or a lawyer with an excellent track record. Fred and Shaggy walked sprightly in front of Marilyn, admiring, or rather, gawking at the enormous mansions that lined the street. "Woah, I bet they have a swimming pool in their living room and their own private movie theater in that house!" commented Fred.

"Yeah," echoed Shaggy. "They must have, like, a million rooms in that place!"

The two boys pressed their faces through the bars of the wrought-iron fence surrounding the palacial grounds. "See anything, Freddie?" Shaggy asked.

"Not yet, all I can see are the moving guys...wait a minute, I think I see something."

Fred squinted and caught sight of a small, red-headed figure amid the towering adults. He couldn't see much more, but assumed that the figure was a girl, as it was wearing what looked to be a dress. "I think they have a kid, but I can't tell exactly." The blond boy pressed his face closer through the fence to get a closer look.

"Shoo. Go on. Go play somewhere else." A tall, stern faced man with a thick British accent waved his hands, emphasizing to the boys that they were not welcome on the premises. "Go on. Go home."

Fred and Shaggy obliged, turning away from the fence to face their chaperone. Marilyn Dinkley smiled as she shook her head. "It's one thing to want to meet a new neighbor," she gently corrected, "it is another thing entirely to spy on them."

Fred and Shaggy looked at one another, guiltily. "We just wanted to see if they had any children," Fred answered.

"I understand your curiosity, boys," she began, "I myself am somewhat eager for my daughter to have a playmate her own age. From what I have heard, they do have a child..."

Fred and Shaggy's eyes brightened at the mention of the word 'child.'

"...they have a little girl who is five years old."

"Oh," they two boys answered in unison, their enthusiasm falling by the wayside at the discovery that the new child in the neighborhood was a girl.

"Well, I guess I've seen enough," said Fred, slightly disappointed, "let's go home."

"Elizabeth, are you certain that it is a good idea to send our daughter to a public school? Don't you think she would be better off attending a private school with her peers from the neighborhood?"

Elizabeth Blake gave a hearty laugh. "Oh don't be ridiculous, George. Daphne will be just fine. And besides, I do think it would be a good experience for her to see how the, er, 'rest of the world' lives."

George Blake shrugged. "Huh. If you say so."

Elizabeth faced her five-year-old daughter, Daphne. The little girl wore a sour face, sharply in contrast to her bright pink outfit. "Come on, dear. Get in the car. It's your first day at a new school—lets go."

Daphne begrudingly climbed into the limousine, somewhat displeased at the prospect of having to start kindergarten in the middle of the school year.

"Oh, do cheer up Daphne," her mother scolded, "you'll never make any friends if you look like that."

The little girl sighed. I may never make any friends at all.

"Boys and girls, we have a new student in our class. It's her first day here so let's make her feel welcome." The teacher looked at Daphne. "Now, can you tell the boys and girls your name?"

"Daphne," the redhead replied, monotonously. "Daphne Blake."

A giggle arose from a boy in the back of the room. "Daffy—like the duck!" Several other children laughed at the comment and began making quacking noises.

"You're dithpickable!!!" one of the other boys chimed. Daphne lowered her head to avert their gaze. Without saying another word, she took a seat in the furthest corner of the room and sat in sullen silence.

"Don't worry about them. They are just immature and looking for attention."

Daphne turned around to see who had spoken those words. They were pretty big words for a kindergartner, and the little redhead was surprised to find that they came from someone even smaller and younger looking than herself. "What did you say?"

"I said don't mind them. They're always mean like that. They called me even worse things." The little girl extended her hand in a friendly gesture. "I'm Velma, Velma Dinkley. I'm four years old, but I will be five in May." Without even taking a breath, she continued, "What's your name?"

"Daphne. Daphne Blake." Without even thinking, she blurted, "You must be very smart, to be in kindergarten when you are only four."

Velma blushed. "Aww, jinkies, thanks."

Both girls rushed out of the building the instant the afternoon bell rang. "Mommy!" they both called in unison, each running to her respective mother. Daphne grabbed her mother around the waist and squeezed tightly.

"Well, I am certainly glad to see you in a better mood young lady," said Elizabeth. "Did you have a good time in school?"

"Yes!" Daphne replied.

Only several feet away, Marilyn Dinkley's daughter carried on with the same ritual. Without even thinking about it, the little girl blurted, "Mother, can Daphne come over and play on Saturday?"

Marilyn and Elizabeth looked at one another awkwardly; they didn't even knew each other, and yet their children seemed to have forged a very strong bond already. "I must apologize, madame," Marilyn began, "it seems that our children have met through school, but you and I have yet to be formally introduced. I am Marilyn Dinkley, and this is my daughter, Velma." Marilyn extended her hand to the other woman.

"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Blake."

Marilyn immediately put two-and-two together in her head. "Oh, it is your family who moved into that house on Easy, er, Park Front Boulevard."

"Yes."

"Well, welcome to the neighborhood. I do apologize for being so abrupt, and perhaps we can get to know each other at a mutually convenient time and under less rushed circumstances."

"Well, that certainly would be ideal. Would you like to come over for tea perhaps this weekend?"

"Why thank you, that is very kind of you to invite me." Marilyn glanced at her daughter. "Velma, remember, I have to watch Frederick and Norville on Saturday as well."

"I know, but I am getting a little tired of playing with the boys every weekend."

The girl's answer was so frank and candid that Marilyn and Elizabeth exchanged somewhat startled glances. "Well," Elizabeth began, "I don't see why not..."

"I don't see any reason why not either," seconded Marilyn, "and besides, I think it would be beneficial for Velma to play with a girl for awhile."

"Well, we will see you tomorrow. I do hope we are not intruding on you, since you said you have to watch two other children tomorrow."

"Oh, it's not a problem; both boys are very well behaved, as you will see when you come over."

"Well, I trust your judgement, Mrs. Dinkley..."

"Please, call me Marilyn."

"...Marilyn, and so, I suppose I will see you tomorrow when I drop her off."

Marilyn gave Elizabeth the address, then turned to look at the girl. "We're looking forward to seeing you tomorrow," she commented.

Daphne grinned. "Me too."

Shaggy and Fred sat in the family room of the Dinkley residence, playing with a set of toy trains. "Can you boys come out here?" Marilyn called, "there is someone I would like you to meet."

Fred and Shaggy chose to ignore the summons and continued playing.

"Daphne!" Velma called, rushing into the entry way as quickly as possible without running.

The little redhead grinned at her friend. "Hi, Velma."

Recognizing that the boys had not heard her call, Marilyn escorted Daphne and Velma into the playroom. "Frederick, Shaggy, this is Daphne. She is the girl who lives in that huge house across town."

Little Fred stared at the girl. Although he was only six years old, there was something about this newcomer that just fascinated him, and he couldn't stop staring at her. His stare did not go unnoticed to the redhead though, who promptly squelched it with scornful glare.

"Frederick, Shaggy, what do you say?" Marilyn prompted.

"Hi, Daphne," they both replied, mechanically.

Marilyn smiled her approval. "Now I want you to make her feel welcome, okay? She's Velma's friend, too, so she's going to be here quite frequently."

Velma looked at Daphne enthusiastically. "Come on, Daphne. Let's go upstairs to my room." The little redheaded girl followed obligingly, more than happy to escape the six-year-old, blond boy with the staring problem. How could she know that in the years to come, she would be gazing at him with the same fervor? She couldn't, and never suspected that she would.

A/N: Well, I got a little carried away on this chapter, perhaps to make up for the long time of not updating. Successive chapters will probably not be this long, but I make no guarantees. Oh, and if anyone knows Velma's exact street address (yes, there is such a thing) please let me know so that I can fill it in.