PART 5: The Changing Times
Twelve-year-old Fred Jones sat up in bed, yawning and stretching as he greeted the beginning of yet another day. Five years had passed since his mother's death, but the incident was never far from the boy's mind. Over the past five years, Fred had learned to internalize his grief and to discount himself as the instigator of his mother's death, but his uncle's words were never far from his mind. If you had been a good boy and gone with your mother...maybe this might not have happened. The passing of the years had not done much to diminish the impact of Geoff Jones' words, but as Fred got older, he could not help but think that something was wrong about the whole situation. His presence alone, he reasoned, would probably not have prevented the murder, but maybe it could have. Could have...would have...should have...Fred could not shake those words from his mind. If only, he thought, there could be a way to change what happened in the past. If only there was a way to right the wrong that had been committed. But today, at least for awhile, he could escape from his self doubts. He and the other children had something exciting planned for the afternoon.
"You want to build a what?" an exasperated Daphne exclaimed.
The blond boy dropped a pile of old boards, nails and a hammer on the ground at the base of a huge tree in the Rogers' back yard. "A treehouse," Fred answered, proudly. "I've already drawn up the plans and we have all the stuff needed." He opened up the "blueprint" he had drawn on several sheets of notebook paper scotch-taped together. The plan depicted an elaborate house with an elevator, swimming pool, secret hideout, lookout tower, study room and kitchen.
Daphne surveyed the drawing and frowned. "Oh puh-leeze, Freddie!" she chided, folding her arms across her chest and looking away from the boy, "Get real! You're expecting us to build the Taj Mahal in a tree! It will never work! Besides, you wouldn't catch me dead playing with tools." She stuck her tongue out for emphasis. "Eew, that's so gross!"
"Aww, come, on, Daph," Shaggy commented, "like chill out. I think it would be cool to have a treehouse. We could have a place where we could meet and hang out..."
The little redhead shook her head in disgust. "Whatever. Besides, what do you guys know about building anyway?"
"Aww, how hard can it be, Daph? All we have to do is pound a few boards together like what I drew in the picture and it will be great!"
Shaggy and Fred began hastily assembling the planks together—on the ground—in an attempt to build the treehouse. "There!" The blond boy announced, proudly, "it's finished!"
What they had produced looked less like a tree house and more like a lean-to shelter in a third world country; there were barely enough boards and the resultant house was scarcely large enough for even the Great Dane to fit inside.
"Terrific, Freddie," Daphne voiced, sarcastically, "but just how do you expect to get it up in the tree? It is a tree house, isn't it?"
"Well, yeah," the blond boy replied, "I think."
No sooner had he stepped aside when the entire structure collapsed, leaving a pile of wood, sawdust and nails on the ground.
Shaggy scratched his head. "Like, maybe we ought to check those plans again, Freddie."
The tiny, bespectacled girl stepped in. "If I may make a suggestion," she began. She whipped out a protractor, T-ruler and a slide rule and began drawing on the opposite side of Fred's plans. "There," she announced, proudly, showing the finished drawing to Daphne and the two boys, "how does that look?"
It was far less elaborate than what Freddie had imagined, but it looked like a treehouse. Elaborate calculations and numbers lined the sides of perfectly drawn straight lines and angles.
"Wow!" Daphne announced, surprised. The little bespectacled girl's skills in mathematics and engineering never ceased to amaze her older friends. "That is groovy!"
"Thank you," Velma replied. "Now, what we need to do is to assemble our necessary supplies in advance and keep them in a central location. This will expedite our work and allow us to proceed at a greater rate of progression."
Fred looked at Velma, amazed. Whatever she had said, she certainly knew what she was talking about.
The four children gathered that afternoon in the Rogers' backyard. Under the watchful supervision of Harold Dinkley, they sawed, hammered and assembled what would eventually become their playhouse. Harold and Velma had rigged up an elaborate pulley system that enabled the children to complete their work in sections on the ground, then assemble it in the tree. Two weeks later, the four children and the dog stood staring up into the branches of the huge tree to admire their handiwork.
"I have to hand it to you Freddie," the redhead began, "I never thought that this would work out, but it did. Congratulations. You did something right, for once!" She gave him a congratulatory pat on the back, as though to emphasize her praise for him.
Little Fred beamed with pride. Daphne had praised him! And not only had she praised him, she had touched him too! He savored the sensation of the congratulatory pat; there was something about it that sent shivers up and down his twelve-year-old spine, but he could not figure out what it was. "Gee, thanks, Daph," he blurted, before ordering, "Come on gang! Let's get up in that tree house!"
Fred made sure he was the first one up the make-shift rope ladder and he stood proudly in the doorway watching the others climb up. Once the other children had reached the building, they promptly began decorating the inside, establishing their own areas in each of the four corners. Fred carefully arranged his collection of comic books, National Exaggerator magazines and model "mole men"; Shaggy, his food stash, comic books and "Commander Cool" action figures, Velma, her oversize computer, junior scientist chemistry set and telescope and Daphne, her fashion magazines and a few changes of clothing. As they finished, they stood in the center of the room admiring their handiwork. This was their place—their home—a place where they could come to momentarily escape their personal problems and just be children. It would be their place for the next ten years.
Throughout that summer and the ones that followed, the four children spent almost every waking hour together. Whether hanging out in the treehouse, playing together in the neighboring fields or spending the day swimming in the Blake's private pool, they were almost virtually inseparable. Sometimes, on late summer nights, they were permitted to hold sleep-over parties in the treehouse. The sleep-overs were special treats for all four of them, and they would spend hours, late into the night, telling jokes, ghost stories and laughing about what they had done during the day.
But they were changing too, developing into young adults with their own, unique personalities. Much to Frank's relief, at age thirteen, Fred outgrew his obsession with aliens, bigfoot and the National Exaggerator, and shortly after turning fourteen, the boy hit his adolescent growth spurt. In the summer before his freshman year of high school, he had begun lifting weights and the effect on his previously tiny body was remarkable. Muscular and athletic, Fred now stood five feet seven inches tall and weighed over 140 pounds. He had grown his hair out a bit and now kept it neatly combed in a very traditional side part. The boy was fairly conservative in his dress as well, sporting a white V-neck sweater, blue slacks and the ascot that he had worn from the time he was a boy. With his stalwart personality, athletic build and handsome appearance, Fred Jones turned his share of girls' heads when walking through the school hallways, but his attention still focused on one girl in particular.
She was a year younger than he was, but very precocious for her age, yet there were still moments when she revealed that she was still little more than a girl caught between childhood and adolescence. That summer, during one of their pool parties, Daphne had opted to wear a two-piece bathing suit instead of her usual one-piece. Strutting back and forth around the pool deck, she posed with her hands on her hips, pretending to be a fashion model. Indeed with her manner of walking and posing, she appeared much older and sensuous than her thirteen years would let on, but moments later, she was a child again, playfully engaging her best friend Velma in a water fight.
Fred stared intently at Daphne, though not quite sure what it was about the redhead that fascinated him so. Could this be that strange sensation of being in love? Could it be that he was falling for her? Could it be that she was turning from his girl friend into his girlfriend? Nah! The thought made Fred sick to his stomach. She's just a friend, he kept telling himself, a friend who happens to be a girl. But somehow, he knew that it was a lie. For the rest of the summer, he continued to go to the Blakes' residence for pool parties, although the realized it was now more about seeing Daphne than playing 'Whirlpool' or 'King of the Mountain' on the diving board.
Even the youngest member of the tightly-knit group was experiencing changes of her own. Although only twelve years old, she had skipped a grade and would be entering high school in the fall, but not at the same school as her friends. Worried that she was being challenged enough academically, Harold and Marilyn had enrolled Velma in a private boarding school in another city. And although Velma relished academic challenges, she knew that transferring schools meant that she would separated from her closest friends for the first time in her life. "You'll still be able to come home on the weekends, Velma," Marilyn reassured her daughter, "and Fred, Daphne and Shaggy will still be here."
The little girl lowered her head. "Yes, but it just won't be the same."
"Oh, nonsense, Velma," Harold countered. "Besides, a solid education in your high school years will ensure that you get accepted to a good college." Velma nodded in response, but said nothing. Resigned to her fate of being 'shipped off' to another school, she cherished the summer days with her friends even more than she ever had.
Despite finding himself in the throngs of early adolescence, Shaggy remained ever upbeat. He too had hit a growth spurt, but unlike many boys his age, he seemed to grow taller rather than heavier. Like Fred, he stood five feet seven inches tall, but his lanky figure made him appear even taller. A few sprouts of facial hair were beginning to appear on his chin, making his nickname an even more avid one. He seemed to accept adolescence as a natural part of growing up and didn't think it merited any special behavioral or lifestyle changes, although, like Fred, he occasionally found himself looking at the two girls a little more fondly than he had in the past; in particular, he found the petite, bespectacled girl "rather groovy."
The changes in both boys' behavior did not go unnoticed to the adults either, and the following year, when Fred was fifteen, he and Shaggy heard the lecture that every teenage boy eventually gets about teenage girls. "I'm not going to do anything to them," Fred objected, "Daphne and Velma are just friends—we've known each other forever. There is nothing between me and Daphne and I would never dream of doing anything to hurt them."
Frank Jones looked earnestly at his son. "I know you wouldn't consciously do anything, Freddie, but sometimes, when love takes over, people can do really stupid things without realizing it. I just don't want you to do anything that would jeopardize your friendship with the girls, or our family's friendship with their families." Frank Jones shook his head. He wished his wife could have been there to talk to Fred about the matter—she probably would have been able to say it in a much better, softer fashion than he just did.
The four children were growing up, changing, and sadly, began to realize that their carefree days of summer sleepovers, wrestling in the grass and pool parties were quickly coming to an end. One thing they all knew would never change, though, was that special bond of friendship that they shared; if anything, it seemed to grow stronger throughout the years.
As summer faded to autumn and the leaves began to fall from the trees, Fred Jones entered his sophomore year in high school. That particular Saturday didn't start out any differently from any of the others—Fred had gone down to the high school for morning football practice and four hours later, was walking back home. As he passed the Rogers' house, he caught sight of a familiar looking figure lounging at the base of the tree that housed their clubhouse. Curious, he approached the yard and called out a name. "Daphne?" he blurted, softly, "Daphne Blake, is that you?"
She had changed so much in only a year's time. She now stood five feet five inches tall with a shapely hourglass figure. Her face had lost much of its childhood chubbiness and had taken on a slenderer appearance, beautifully accented by her now shoulder length strawberry blonde hair that she kept neatly arranged in a lavender headband. The redhead's eyes grew wide as saucers, her jaw dropping almost below the end of the lime green scarf she wore around her neck. She could scarcely believe who was standing in front of her. "Freddie?" she gasped, incredulously.
The blond boy nodded.
An uneasy silence reigned between the two teens as they stared at one another. And although he had known Daphne since his childhood, Fred still found himself stunned by her appearance. Radiant, beautiful, a portrait of teenage beauty, could this really be the same spoiled little girl who used to worry about soiling her dress and who disparaged anyone and anything that did not agree with her tastes? It did not seem possible.
The redhead was equally taken aback by the handsome teenage boy. Romance was a relatively new concept for her—after all, she was only fourteen—but she had always known that one day, she would lose her heart to a boy; she just never thought that that boy would be her childhood friend, Freddie Jones. Little Freddie, who had annoyed the redhead beyond belief with his constant talking about Mole Men, alien invasion plots and Bigfoot, now stood right in front of her, a handsome, athletically built fifteen year old boy.
They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before Daphne broke the silence with a joyful squeal. Opening her arms wide, she threw herself at the blond boy and they greeted each other with a hug. As Fred drew the redhead close to him in the embrace, a strange, electrical sensation ran through his body. He had hugged her many times before, but this time, something felt different. Not just the feel of her soft breasts against his muscular chest, (although that sensation did not go unnoticed to Fred either) but something inside him felt different. He felt happy, joyful and fulfilled, something he had never before experienced with Daphne.
A wave of emotions rushed over the redhead too, and in that moment, she found herself feeling happier and more content than she had ever felt in the past. It was as though the blond boy had cast a spell over her, dissolving away her problems and issues. Gradually, she regained her senses and managed to recompose herself. She opened her mouth to speak, but Fred broke the ice first.
"Wow, Daphne," he breathed, his words just barely audible, "you...look...wonderful!"
The redhead giggled in reply and smiled at Fred. Her reaction was largely that of an innocent child experiencing her first crush, but inside of her, she knew it meant more than that.
"So," Fred continued, "I was wondering, if you...have some time...do you...want to go the Malt Shop and...uh...split a milkshake?" His stomach turned in anticipation of her response, as though a brood of hamsters had suddenly started running in an exercise wheel inside his body.
It felt like an eternity before she replied. "Uh...sure, Freddie," she blurted, equally nervous, "that's awfully nice of you."
The hamsters in his stomach disappeared, and the boy felt himself suddenly overcome by another sensation, a feeling like he was walking on air. Reaching down, he took the redhead's hand and helped her up from her sitting position at the base of the tree. She brushed the dead grass and leaves from her dress and smiled at Fred.
He gestured towards the gate. "Please," he said, putting his hand out in front of her.
Daphne graciously accepted, then quickly glanced back at the boy to see if he was coming. She giggled a bit, mildly amused by his hesitancy; hearing her giggles, the blond boy quickened his pace and rejoined her. "Freddie," she quipped, "you're at times."
He flashed her a puzzled look. "Meaning?"
She giggled in response. "You know what I mean."
Fred confessed to himself that he had no idea of how to interpret Daphne's comment, but decided that it was better not to let her see his ignorance.
They took their usual seats at the Malt Shop that afternoon, although it felt strangely foreign to be there without Velma, Shaggy and his dog. Perhaps, Daphne thought, it is better that they are not here. Better for both of us.
Fred returned a few minutes later with a strawberry milkshake. "Uh, I asked for two straws," he blurted nervously.
Daphne only smiled in response.
As they sat in the booth that afternoon, looking at one another, they realized how much they had both changed, not just physically, but emotionally as well. For Daphne, her spunky cuteness had ripened into sleek beauty; for Fred, his childhood bravado had changed into calm, level headed leadership; and for both, their friendship was beginning to blossom into something much deeper.
"Hello, Jones residence...Fred?..Uh, yes, may I ask who's calling?..oh, Daphne! Yes, just a moment, I'll get him."
Frank Jones hollered up the stairwell, still holding the phone in his hand. "Fred, it's for you! It's Daphne."
The sound of her name was enough to bring the blond boy tearing down the staircase in the same manner that he tore across the football field. "Thanks, Dad. I've got it," he said, grabbing the phone from his father's hands. "Daphne! What a surprise!"
The redhead on the other end of the line didn't miss a beat. "Hey, listen Fred. My parents are having a huge party tomorrow afternoon and I was wondering of you wanted to come by. Vel and Shag's families already accepted, and both of them are coming, so that just leaves you. So if you and your fam...I mean...er, Dad want to come by, that would be wonderful." She added in a more sincere tone, "I personally would love to see you come. It just won't be as much fun if you're not here."
Fred paused for a moment. "Gee, I don't know, I'd have to ask." Putting his hand over the receiver, he called to his father. "Dad, Daph wants to know if I can come to that party at her parents' place tomorrow."
Frank Jones smiled at his son. "I already accepted, Freddie, so now it's up to you."
Returning to the phone, he replied, "Uh, yeah. I'll be there."
"Good. We'd love to have you guys here by about 1:30."
"Great. I...I mean...we'll be there."
"Wonderful. Oh, and Fred," she paused before continuing her sentence. "I'm looking forward to this. 'Bye."
Fred stood with the phone in his hand long after the redhead had hung up. I'm looking forward to it too, he thought to himself with a smile.
"Surprise!! Happy sixteenth birthday!"
Fred stood, agog in the doorway to the Blakes' house. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't.
Frank looked at his son. "Well don't just stand there, Fred. Go in!"
Fred stared at the house, completely decorated for the occasion. "I...I...I don't believe this! All this? For me?"
"We'd been planning this for the last four months," Frank announced, proudly. "That was why Daphne called you last night—to invite you personally."
"I...I still don't believe this!" he blurted. "This...this is wonderful!"
"Well, there're more to come, Frederick, but before we start any of the festivities, we'd like you to open your present."
Frank Jones handed his son a small box with a ribbon tied around it. "Go on, open it. We're all dying to see what it is."
Fred pulled back the lid and found a single key attached to a gold key ring. He scrutinized the key, as though it were some sacred object. "And this is?" he asked, completely puzzled by the mysterious gift.
Frank and George laughed. "Why don't you come over this way and see what that key unlocks?" George Blake led the boy to a large, sheet covered parcel in the driveway; he ripped the sheet off, revealing a brand-new, 1968 Volkswagon van. Fred's jaw dropped once again.
"It's for you, since it's your sixteenth birthday," George explained, "but it's also sort of for all of you." He gestured to the driver's side door. "Go on. Get in."
As though in a trance, Fred slid into the driver's side, adjusting the seat and mirrors to his comfort.
"Seats three comfortably across the front, and the other two can sit in the back," Frank explained. "Go on, try it out, kids. Get in."
Daphne slid in from the passenger's side, followed by Velma; Shaggy and his dog bounded into the back.
"Like, this is groovy, man!" Shaggy exclaimed. "Weekend, here we come!"
"Go on," Frank urged, "take her for a test drive."
Marilyn eyed Frank with a worried look. "Are you sure it's safe?" she asked.
"Of course it is. And Fred is a wonderful driver. He passed his driving test with the highest possible score." He added, aside, "And I wouldn't have let him take the others if I didn't trust him or think it was safe."
Marilyn nodded, her fears only slightly allayed.
Fred inserted the key into the ignition and fired up the engine. Shifting carefully into reverse, he backed out of the driveway before shifting again and taking the vehicle forward.
The three sets of parents and Frank watched, slightly overcome by their own emotions. The children were growing up so quickly, yet their bond didn't seem to fade at all, if anything, it seemed to be growing stronger. Frank beamed with pride at his son; the boy was turning into a handsome, well-composed youth, in spite of the trauma from his early childhood. Frank surreptitiously wiped a tear from his eye, wishing that Kim could have lived to see her son at this moment.
A/N:If parts of this story looked familiar, you're right. The scenes between Fred and Daphne were adapted from an earlier fic of mine entitled "Falling." I did this purposely, to maintain continuity among my stories.