Mystery Inc 103

Chapter 1

Velma

It had made the local news, both television and print. Velma mostly got her news from the internet but her father had already framed a copy of the article from the Coolsvillian Herald. Title: "Local Teens find Missing Coolsville Girl."

"You're as determined as your old man," Dale Dinkley said. He had come from money, and good boy that he was he had made more marrying distribution and content when streaming became the norm. He was sitting comfortably now but, was still always off to broker a deal in Toronto, or some foreign market. He had a round comforting face. Never the most handsome man, he was proving the old myth of men becoming more handsome as they age to be true.

"Thanks Dad," Velma said and checked her phone. 32 messages sent to Shaggy, not one returned. She flipped over the paper with the missing article looking for news that someone had been mauled, murdered by an unknown large canine. So far nothing and although she'd set an alert on her phone, no such story had been reported.

"Aren't you late for work?" She said pouring honey on top of her vanilla almond cluster, acai bowl.

"Took off, the folks want to meet with you." "What folks?" "The folks of the girl you found. The Hannigans." "Oh," in all the excitement, Velma had nearly forgotten that Libby was still missing. Before she

could fully digest the concept of meeting them or her fruit and granola breakfast, she was walking up theHannigan's walk. Investigative reporter Cal Cooley Came at her with his phone's mic aimed at her face.

"Velma," Can you tell me how you managed to do what the CPD has not been able to manage.

"Uhmmm," she said. Surprised at herself. She was not a woman of few words. She sometimes talked so much she annoyed herself. Yet now here she was unable to come up with something sensible to say.

"This is a private meeting, son," her dad said, pushing the phone out of her face. She got to the front door and it opened to the expectant and red with tears eyes of Mrs. Hannigan. She was a slight woman with an artful face like a lover of Picasso, but her eyes were worn, tired, the sleepless eyes of a mother. She leaned forward and hugged Velma a good long hug. Velma's mom had been gone for a long time. Velma melted like jello left out in the heat for maternal embraces. When Mrs. Hannigan let her go they were both crying.

"How is Gerry?" She asked after her dad had shaken Mr. Hannigan's hand. "She's a strong girl," her mother said. "Stronger than me,'' her mother said. "She was

dehydrated. They are keeping her in the hospital, observing her. She should be home soon." "Sure she will," Velma said. She wasn't great with parents. Most mothers saw her and

summed her up as the kind of girl they didn't want their sons dating, or their daughters being friends with 'les she lead someone astray.

"I know you spoke to the police," Mr. Hannigan was saying, but maybe you could talk to us. If it's not too much. He was the dad of a daughter. He had that tonal switch when he talked to Velma that he for certain used with Gerry.

"Not sure I can tell you much." She told the story again, just as she had told the police, no embellishments. Just the facts, where they'd seen her, the encounter. The only addition she gave was an apology from Daphne for striking her.

"That's understandable." "She isn't upset about it," they reassured her. "Is she saying anything?" "Not much," Mrs. Hannigan said. Daphne looked beyond her head to a door that was ajar, the walls a soft violet shade. "That her room?" Velma asked. Soon they were in it. Mrs. Hannigan sat on the bed, her

arms wrapped around a large fuzzy pillow and Velma was running her fingers over Gerry's turntable. *There was something odd about the room Velma thought. She realized what it was. It felt staged. A preen room in a long-running sitcom. It didn't feel like a pre-ado would actually live there. Someone called Mrs. Hannigan. She said:

"Excuse me," and poked her head out the door, then Velma could hear her feet going down the halway, heavy and quick cadence. Velma took out her phone, switched on her camera and shot a 360 video of the room.

"Sorry, we have a little emergency," Mrs. Hannigan said, coming back into the room looking frazzled.

"Oh of course," Velma said and headed down the stairs with the upset woman behind her. There was an intense look to Mr. Hannigan now.

"Y'all go out the back," he said. "Sure," Velma's dad said as they were ushered back. When they got to the back door Velma

ran right into Gerry coming into the door. She had a bruise on her cheek from hitting the ground after Daphne's kick, aside from which she had a generally neat appearance and dour demeanor, her eyes opened wide. She nearly bumped into Velma.

"Um, hey," Velma said. "Hi," Gerry said in a soft voice. She was followed by AJ Dobbs the lawyer from all the tv ads

that came on between court programs. After her dad dropped her off, she rode her cruiser to Shaggy's house. She had been to his

neighborhood only once, just wanted to see where he lived. No. that wasn't it. She'd wanted to see him but didn't have the courage to knock on the door. The van wasn't there. Likely, Fred still had it. She knew one other place he might be, but she wouldn't be able to get there on her bike. She'd have to drive and she friggin' hated driving.

Shaggy

Eyes, opened, then closed, then opened again, Shaggy saw Scooby at a distance of about six feet, then four, then two. He was being cautious. Shaggy sat up and tried to check Scooby for injuries but the dog, leary, moved back.

"Scoob, it's me." Shaggy said, holding his hand out for the dog to sniff him, then giving him a tentative pet. Scooby licked his hand and allowed Shaggy to check for bites and scratches. There were no visible injuries. Sometimes, Shaggy in his wolf state was out of control and poor loyal Scoob caught the brunt of it. Shaggy stood up. He was stark naked. It always gave him the bitter taste of insult watching movies and tv shows where the next day, the werewolf was somehow in torn shorts. This was the reality, naked and bitter like the blood taste in his mouth. He had remembered though, in his lycan state, to come here, to get back to his father's hunting cabin. He went out immediately to the outdoor shower and the cold well water hit his body and he felt more alive than alive. He had a sliver of a bar of castor oil soap he got from a native family on the reservation a few miles from where he was. It was the best at washing out the blood from his skin. He came out of the shower. And inhaled deeply ready now to face what had become.

"Scooby," He said to the dog wagging its tail and walking aside him. "What'd we kill last night?" he asked, giving his head a generous shake, tossing the water off his hair in the morning sun. *"Towel?" He turned to see Velma, high waisted jeans, oversized mock neck sweater, fashionable high-topped sneakers. Velma like to joke this was her "period-wear" when he came to visit her and she was out of her more form-fitting, sexy clothing. She'd tell him he should come back in a few days so they could really have some fun. She never got that she was fun even without sex, in peroid-wear telling him about books he'd never read, dancing to some moody pop tune and making kissy faces at him, taking him to cafes to make him drink gross over-sweet cooffee drinks with steamed mlik while she went on about neo-classicism. She was always fun, but it didn't always make him feel good.

He took the old bleach-stained Shasta-Cola beach towel from her outstretched hands and could see the tears in her eyes. It was too much, her, the low that came on the day after he "wolfed-out." He wrapped the towel around his waist while tears blurred his vision.

"I'm sorry," he said and his voice cracked with sadness. "Don't, Norville I…" Velma began. "I want to ask…" Shaggy tried saying. "What?" "Why…" he couldn't put together a complete statement. Velma was crying now, was tearing

and red around the cheeks. "Why can't I get this right?" She moved in now and wrapped her arms around his lean torso. Scooby stood on his hind

legs and joined in on the hug. Shaggy and Velma laughed at that. Shaggy caught his towel before it dropped.

"Listen," Velma said, looking up at him so he could see her small beautiful chestnut eyes behind the lenses of her glasses. "I don't know how to be a girlfriend, but I would really like it if you asked me again. Shaggy looked at her. He'd wanted this so much over the past 1 year, 2 months, something like three weeks. Now he couldn't help but feel like a dog who had done nothing more than catch its own tail.

"Will you be my girlfriend, Velma?"

He found although she initiated it this time, he still waited for a treatise on relationship norms or a joke about polyamory, but all she said was. "Yes," wiping her face and really crying now. He kissed her feeling like he was really in trouble now.

Freddy

Freddy was heading to his car when he saw Shaggy out at his van. He hadn't seen or talked to him since the night of the concert. Last he'd seen the kid he was heading into the National park full on in a rage after pounding some unlucky asshole's head into a pulp for grabbing Velma's tit. Before Freddy knew it he was walking over to him.

"Yo, what's up Shag?" "Hey," Shaggy was soft spoken and quiet again, but this kid was one of those

calm-like-a-bomb types. "Sorry about the other night." "No worries," Freddy said. "I see you got your van back." "Yeah, thanks." "I saw she handled a little rough. I think you should throw some new plugs in it…" He went

on with all the ways he would pimp shaggy's ride. "Mr. Rogers," a short curly haired woman in the world's ugliest tracksuit had crossed the

parking lot. She was obviously a gym teacher. "Yeah, I mean, yes coach MacDonald." "I have a proposal for you. I've heard how you got 86'd from wrestling." Freddy looked at his face, and saw the hurt there. This kid was full of troubles and sob

stories. "Well," Coach MacDonald went on. "It'd be a shame to waste athleticism like that." "I'm sorry coach," Shaggy said. "I don't get it." "I'd like you to join the gymnastics team." Shaggy and Freddy snickered. The coach, although small in stature, sent Fred the kind of

look that immediately made him feel bad for Mr. Coach MacDonald. "I know gymnastics might not be seen as cool, but believe me it's not all tights and ribbon

twirling. Men's gymnastics takes strength and focus. With your lean frame, I think you'd be great at it. Plus, It's not a contact sport. Just you and the beams out there. What do you say?"

"I don't know," Shaggy began. "Look. you're moving toward college application time. You need something to balance out all

the adversity you've faced. These people have short memory spans. You win a couple of competitions, you're they're hero again. You show up everyday, work hard, that's a guaranteed reference letter from me.

Freddy could tell Shaggy wanted to do it but maybe felt embarrassed, still thinking of the leotards or whatever the hell those guys wore. Still, was it much worse than a wrestling uniform? He decided to give him a shove of encouragement.

"Sounds like a great opp Shaggy. I'd go for it," Freddy said.

Daphne

Daphne ran out of the student council meeting. She had less than 15 minutes to get to taekwondo. She stopped cold. Her car was, of course, behind the school bus with loud-mouthed freshman going ape on it. She needed a ride and fast. She looked around. Shaggy's van was pulling off. She ran toward ityelling:

"Shaggy!" But he was already pulling onto the Bronswick. She saw someone in her peripheral was looking at her, fit frame, trendy designer streetwear.

"Freddy," she sighed and took a sweaty lock of hair from her face. Can you get me to Vyne and Uphsaw in…" she checked her phone. "twelve minutes without killing us both. His smile spread all devious made her smile too and she found herself again in the bucket seat beside him.

She checked the time as he tore through streets at a speed that made her stomach float. She had less than five minutes before class began. Lateness would mean pushups on her knuckles until she wouldn't be able to so much as type on her phone for a week. She unbuckled her seatbelt and slid between the two seats and into the car's small rear to put on her uniform. She took off her shirt glad she put on a sports bra this morning. She looked up from putting on her uniform top to meet Freddy's eyes in the rear view mirror.

"Eyes on the road mister," she crooned. He smiled she could see in the crinkles of his eyes which were now back to the road. She wriggled out of her jeans and into the bottoms tightening the strings just as he was making a left on Vyne. Something red in the black leather interior caught her attention. It was sticking out of the pocket on the back of the driver's seat. It was a mask, red, silicon, a menacing skull with a wicket grimace.

"Made it," he said, screeching to a stop at the curb that made her tumble forward. She quickly returned the mask and got out feeling again that slight fear of this guy.

"Thanks," She said. "Can I give you a ride home?" She heard him say over her shoulder as she was running into

her dojang. "It's okay," she said. Wondering again what had he been doing around the initial search for

the girls dressed as he was.

Freddy

It was late evening when Freddy drove his Mustang to the far side of the casinos, right where the reservations began and made a left into the industrial wasteland of abandoned factories. He was careful of his route. This city wasn't affluent enough to have security cameras set up on stretches of freeways but there were cameras in the damndest places these days, ATM's, people's doors, CCTV. He felt this route was isolated enough. He made it to 80 Magnolia, an old doughnut factory that still had the smell of something sweet right underneath the scent of rust and rat droppings. He'd picked this place not just for its remoteness but also for its loading dock which had two large containers on it. He took out his keys and unlocked the first container, got back in and backed his mustang into it. Once it was parked, he locked it and went to the other container. He felt so excited about what was in here. His heart raced. His skin tingled with electricity. He put the key in the lock.That sound, when the lock sprung open always got him. He opened the container doors. There she was.

Chapter 2

Freddy

He removed the cover from her and turned on the drop-light he had rigged on the ceiling. She was beautiful, sexy even. 2JZ short block, 944mm crank, PHR s45 Manifold, cera coated dump tubes, V160 Transmission, PHR Racing fuel sending unit, cold air intakes. He could go on. It was about as illegal as a car could get. It was his own creation. It'd be hard to say what kind of car she was exactly. She was just a black nondescript vehicle that moved fast as lighting and quietly. She was so light She damn near became airborne when he punched it. He took his Red Skull mask from his pocket and put it on. Put on a black tactical jacket and leather gloves and he was ready to patrol. *The car was a wildcat, she purred down the street but could growl if he hit the gas hard. In Cedar Cover, he didn't have to drive long before he found a meth-head breaking into a store or home. This was his second patrol in coolsville. The first one had been the day before the Find and Rescue Search for those girls. He'd stayed out all night and hadn't found one crime being committed nor any sign of the girls. There's no way Coolsville was this quiet. The girls being missing was proof of it. Underneath all the calm there was ugliness. He was turning on Silverlane when he saw a clown about ten feet from the footbridge. He stopped his car and grabbed his small leather lead-filled truncheon, sliding it up his sleeve. *He approached the clown quietly and remained unseen as the clown was trying to peer around a corner for some reason. "Libby?" he asked thinking he might be lucky and this might be the remaining missing girl. The clown turned around. "What the.." It was a male voice. The clown took off running. Freddy was in pursuit. He caught up to him, slid the truncheon out of his sleeve and struck the clown on his shoulder. He yelled and tumbled but got right back up and started running. Fred looked to where he was trying to get. It was an open van not like Shaggy's, this van had cargo doors on the side, was newer, nondescript, white. There was a clown hanging out the cargo doors, beckoning his companion to come closer, to hurry. Freddy made a split decision to turn around and get back to his car. They got about a 15 second head start on him. That was little advantage. He was on their tail in no time. He cut his headlights to decrease his visibility, keep within a safe distance so they would relax, go where they were going, maybe even lead him back to Libby. He stepped on the gas and really let the car leap, sharp turn into a drift as one of the clowns was getting out the van, smacked his ass back against the van. *"Ow, my leg!" The clown shouted. His friend got out to help as Freddy slid the truncheon out and, boom, clown number two was down dick in the dirt, ass to the air taking a nap. *"What the fuck?" said still another third clown from the driver's seat before he took off leaving his friends with Freddy. Freddy was full of adrenaline like at a 20 on a 10 point scale. He went to the one with the injured leg. "Suppose you tell me what you're doing dressed like that." Freddy said from behind the mask. "It's a free country, man," he said, way too indignant for the position he was in. Fred cuffed him in the ear with the truncheon.

"You're crazy," he said to Freddy then "help, help!" to the night. Freddy looked around. It wasn't a totally secluded area. There were run-down houses, close enough to hear the commotion, but too far to see much in the way of detail. *"Where's Libby Donovon?" Freddy asked feeling like he needed to go soon but, partly hoping the guy wouldn't answer so he could use his truncheon to pretty up his clown face. *"Who's Libby? That missing girl? You made a mistake, we don't have her, man." "Then what are you doing creeping around at night looking like fucking Gacy?" "Listen, man. It's just extreme advertising." "What are you talking about?" Freddy asked the guy who seemed on the verge of tears, his fear was savory. He told Freddy a story about a company that specialized in extreme advertisement, huge public stunts, brand tattooing on the flesh of the willing, and in this case, dressing like clowns and scaring the shit out of people to promote the 20th anniversary of the book Beneath. Freddy had read it when he was younger. It featured a murderous clown named Pennywhistle. So apparently, this company was paying these losers to go around dressed like clowns scaring the hell out of people, and the moment the book was released peoples morbid fancies would be piqued and sales would be bonkers. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" Fred kicked him in the ribs. He had the guy hand over his wallet and took a picture of it with his burner phone.

Libby

Libby was still Libby. Most of her time spent in the dark, she lost sense of where she was where the darkness ended and she began. She believed Gerry was gone. It's not that she heard anything; she just felt it, felt that there was no more feeling of someone else there, only her and him. She could hear him now, his feet coming down the steps. She felt like she would urinate on herself every time he was approaching. She had before and boy did he get angry.

Coffee had always been a pleasant smell to her before. It smelled like morning at the Winter Hollow cabin on vacation with her family. Mom handing dad a cup as he patted her on the bottom and she blushed. Now it just smelled like him. The door screeched open, gray light behind him.

"Everyday you are getting better," he said. His voice was distorted by one of those toys boys played with, like a plastic microphone with a robotic voice, staticky with a slight whistle behind it. Sometimes if she really concentrated she could hear his real voice behind the robot voice. It was like an itch inside a cast, hard to pin down but it was there. She knew the routine well. She put her blanket down on the floor.

Chapter 3

Velma

Velma just needed to speak to Gerry. She thought for certain something was forming in her mind. When she got to the street she could see the news vans sitting outside. It wasn't just the local Coolsville News van. There were vans from several neighboring cities and one national

news outfit. Something had happened but what? She stopped her cruiser several houses before the Hannigan's place and chained her front wheel to a lamppost. She got through two backyards without issue but the Hannigan's yard had a fence around it, the type of wooden fortification favored by assholes that lost it if so much as a leaf fell over their imagined property line. She grasped at the top of the fence and stood on the tippy toes so her rust pleated skirt rose up enough she felt to give any nosy neighbor a peek-a-boo of her no-show undies.

The house was empty. Not just that. It was shuttered like they had gone on a long vacation. She let go of the top of the fence and took her phone from her backpack. She checked her news alert and there it was. Gerry was no longer aiding and in fact hindering the investigation. Velma felt sick all of a sudden.

A note tumbled out of Velma's locker. This was a normal thing for her, secret admirers, slut

shamers, girlfriends of guys she made out with at parties. She had never felt this anxiety about it before, like her life up to this point was an anchor keeping her from flying away with Norville. It was a crudely torn out sheet from what looked like a composition book, definitely from a guy, women's death threats were treated with the same care as a love note. She opened it slowly. The writing was written with consistent rounded angles. This guy, whomever he was, was a tagger. It read:

The clown angle is all wrong. It's a promotion for Beneath book.

Beneath was underlined twice. It was a book by… What was that horror writer's name. Velma closed her eyes and started constructing the bookshelf in her room. Once it was populated with books she could see herself in front of it, purple gown, long nails, silver bangles on her wrists. She reached onto the shelf and pulled out the book, felt the matte dust cover in her hand, the raised red writing made to look like blood. She looked at the clown in the cover art, Pennywhistle in a drainage pipe. She looked to her right, General Pennywhistle from The Carnie Militia was sitting on her bed tuning his guitar. It surprised her so she almost came out, heard the kids in the hallway. She looked down at the book again, flipped it over and looked at the picture of the author, gray neatly cut hair, glasses, sitting in a throne-like chair. Someone walked into the picture. Libby Donovon in a baby doll dress, her hair in pigtails. She stood beside him and held his hand. Velma woke in the hall with a gasp and said: "Harlan Ellison.

Shaggy

. Freddy had brought them all to a mid-week rave in a Cedar Grove warehouse. Shaggy watched Velma sautner off to the dance floor with Raelene. They immediately started grinding on one another. Shaggy breathed slowly, told himself it's just her way and to love someone means to love all that they are. All that social media cliche bullshit. He tried to love Reaelene pushing her face in between Velma's glittery milky tits– and breathe. He tried to love the way Velma cupped both of Raelene's ass cheeks lifting the skirt so he could see her red thong and the crowd eclipse his vision so they could see the show being put on – and breathe. He tried to

breathe as Velma grabbed Raelene's face and stuck her tongue in her mouth. He could feel Freddy and Daphne looking at him, their discomfort. It sucked when people feared you going nuts. He stood up and walked through the crowd, not toward Velma, but away. His body felt disconnected, a floating balloon of a body.

He didn't feel the risk of wolfing out. He wasn't angry. He was just sad, really, really fucking sad.

"Hey," he heard some guy say as Shaggy passed him. He turned to look at the guy who was fucking smashed. He was offering Shaggy a lit J. Shaggy took it from him and put it in his mouth, and just kept walking through one of the warehouse doors. He ended up on a loading dock with the sky exposed. It was raining hard. The drops felt abusively cold and hard on his skin. There was a dumpster that was under a small shelter. He sat on it, pulling up his knees to his chest. He pulled on the J, moist with rain, but still lit. He had to pull extra hard. It was dirt weed, pookie, but it was something to do. He looked at the factory. The color of the brick was dull. Sure it was an old uncared for brick but this was something more than dust and grime. He held up his hand. He knew what these muted colors meant. He was in a full on depressive episode.

Shaggy slept hard, so hard, in such darkness he didn't get the dozens of messages Velma

had sent. He looked through them. Mostly she just wanted to know where he was, why he'd left, if he was okay. That second one got him. She didn't, really didn't get why he had left. To her it was just a normal night. If it was a guy she was nearly fucking in the middle of the dance floor, maybe that'd be a big deal, but since it was a girl it was fine. It was not fine, not to Shaggy. Maybe a guy like Freddy would be okay with it if Daphne was doing that with a girl. He would probably encourage it. Shaggy didn't want a girl that was so free with her body. To him, girlfriend meant something different he guessed. He let Scooby outside and went to his medicine cabinet. He had a bottle of 25mg generic fluoxetine. He popped two. The bottle was light. He'd need to start therapy again, maybe next week.

He got dressed, kissed his mom, and headed out the door with scooby. The spot on the street where his van should have been was empty. He felt his face crumbling like an eroded mountain face.

"Come on, Scoob," he said with the hint of tears in his voice. He led the dog back to the house.

"What happened?" His mother asked. It was the maternal tone. Sure she was young and guys Freddy had been friends with had always talked about how hot she was, but standing there in an oversized Jello Biafra shirt and studded boots, she still had that warm mom tone.

"My van's gone," he said and the tears, the sobs came hard. She soon had him bent over, her arms wrapped around his neck. He wished he was small like when he was a kid. Her embrace was not enough anymore. He pulled away and wiped his face.

"I need to get to school." "I'll drive you." "It's okay. I'll walk. You should get some rest," he put on a smile to comfort his mother. She

worked late at the casino. He didn't want her running around for a piece of garbage van. "I don't mind, Norville."

"It's okay." "Shaggy, we'll get it back." She said, her face still, hard. He knew it was a promise she

couldn't guarantee, but he nodded his head and accepted that token hope. He walked along the I-5, his schoolmates zipping by in nice cars he'd never be able to afford.

It didn't seem fair. A car horn honked, he thought maybe at another car. It sounded again and he could tell by the sound of the tire tracks it was slowing down. Maybe Daphne offering him a ride. He turned and looked up. It was his van. Sort of.

Freddy

"Yo, Shag!" Freddy said, stepping out the driver's side. His friend Juannie hopped out the passenger side and pulled his beanie down low over his eyes.

"Sorry, we were late. Took her in for a little fix-er-up." Fred said, slapping the side of the van. Shaggy walked over and looked over the custom paint job, electric blue with orange flames along the side. That was just the cosmetic aspect of the upgrade. Fred and Juannie had stayed up all night putting in an old Ford Supervan engine. Shaggy's ride essentially had a tiger under the hood. It now sat a little lower with its alloy wheels but it cornered like a kid on timeout. "You want to give her a spin," Freddy said, tossing the new keys (as he'd had to hotwire it) to Shaggy.

Shaggy

Shaggy felt the new glittery keys in his hands. He looked at the van. He'd never gotten anything new before. His whole life had always been thrift stores and second hand goods, last generation game consoles. The van wasn't new. It was better. It was customized by, and this part made him feel like crying, his friend Freddy. He reached into his glove compartment and got his vape pen sucking some Turkish delight into his lungs. "Let's ride," he said, letting the vape smoke escape his smile. Freddy and Juannie cheered and piled in.

Chapter 4

Daphne

There was a morning assembly to praise Velma for "finding" Gerry Hannigan. Sure, they had all stumbled on the girl after the Carnie Militia concert but, when the cops had come, they all faded to the background and let Velma take the credit. Velma loved it too, thought Daphne. She'd gone from hysterically crying about her fuck buddy to going back and forth with Sheriff debputies like she was Olivia fucking Benson. Daphne loved the girl, but the girl loved attention: from her attire to her "body positivity" blog which was just really artful iphone softcore porn. Daphne watched her getting a hug from Frank Abe the Find and Rescue founder, a thin guy with wiry shoulder length hair and a voice which seemed too loud and sure for the twitchy-eyed dude. Velma was eating up the applause. Daphne was bored with it and a nagging thought came to her mind; she was outgrowing her relationship with Velma.

"And we can get Libby home with your help," Frank Abe was shouting like a Vietnam war protester in a 60s movie. Daphne looked behind him to the women he had with him, two of them. The one Daphne recognized was a reality show star/ influencer whose follows were dwindling. The whole thing was boring. The school had a strict anti-phone policy but in a crowded auditorium she was sure she wouldn't be caught. She felt safe to pull out her phone and check her feed. There was a new video in Fred's story. Daphne muted her phone and watched him rapping into the camera. God, he had a beautiful mouth. Daphne felt that beneath her low rise bikinis. The Camera went to a tough-faced guy in the backseat of what looked like Shaggy's van. He was rapping, presumably the same song. Then the phone was on Shaggy's profile, vape in his mouth. The scene outside the window was a blur. They were speeding. Shaggy was rapping, bobbing his head. The story ended abruptly. "Boys," Daphne said to herself.

Velma

"Since when do you cut school and go joy-riding?" Velma said. She'd done her makeup all glittery and purple and wore her girls pushed up high out the top of her I-fucked-up dress.

Norville pushed her against the locker and tongued her hard pulling her leg up to his thigh, pushing his fingers under her thong. She didn't know if he was trying to prove his manliness after seeing her get frisky with Raelene or if he was filled with adrenaline from speeding. "Woo hoo," and "get a room" people in the hall shouted.

"Take me to your van," She said. Soon, she was on all fours while he pounded against her ass. It was angry and violent. It was not like any of the time they'd made love. She loved it. It was visceral, mammalian.

"Do you think," Velma said while negotiating with her breast to resurrender to the bra. "If I weren't on birth control, I'd have a little werewolf baby." As soon as she'd staid it, she realized how afraid she was to offend Norville. He could be very sensitive."

"Dunno," he said with a laugh and Velma thought: Okay, I can do this. I can be a girlfriend if it's like this.

"Want to go out for Tapas after school or that all you can eat Sushi place, Ichiro's Bottomless Whale?"

"Can't," Shaggy said, pulling on his vape. "I start gymnastics today." "Wait. What?" Velma said dramatically. "Shut up," he said, kissing her. "I have to get to Physics but I want to hear all about this later," she said getting out of the

van, bracing herself by holding one of Shaggy's hands. She stood on tippy-toe and gave him a kiss then hurried off. She got about 15 feet ad for some reason she had to turn around. She'd never felt such an urge, the fear that for some silly reason Norville wouldn't' be there. He was there, one hand in his low-hanging jogger pockets, the other holding his vape pen. He spread the fingers to say a wordless goodbye to her. She felt like her whole body was blushing. She held on to that warmth all day and she knew the impossible had happened. She was in love with a boy, Norville. Now if she could only get the courage to tell him.

After school she was riding down Sikyatavo Drive on her cruiser when she couldn't stand it anymore. She had to tell Daphne at least. Her phone was in the handlebar mount. She video called Daphne.

"Yo, shawty," Velma said. "Hey, homegrown hero." Daphne replied back in her normal snarky way. "You should've gone up there with me." "Not my thing." Daphne said dismissively. Velma glanced down to Daphne on her

screen. She was sweaty and ponytailed, Taekwondo class or the gym. "I have to tell you something," Velma said, feeling herself blushing again. She could feel

a vehicle coming behind her. She moved further over to the side of the road. "What? Spill!" Daphne said. "I am totally.." then the dark confusion of impact.