"And finally can anyone tell me if this statement on number four is true or false?"

Velma raised her hand. The professor's eyes scanned the room. For a millisecond, they fell on her, and she readied herself to answer. But then they kept scanning.

"No one?" the professor asked incredulously. His eyes fell on Shaggy. "How about you Mr. Rogers? Are you in the neighborhood?"

Shaggy jerked out of his daydream.

"What?"

"It's the children's program. I was trying to get your attenton," the professor pointed to the statement towards the bottom f teh board. "Can you tell me if statement four is true or false?"

Shaggy stared at the board, willing his mind to focus on the writing. He bit his lip, and tried squinting, if only to buy himself another second or two. But it did nothing for the writing on the board, which to him were little more than squiggles.

"It's false," a voice whispered from behind him.

"It's false," he repeated louder.

"Can you tell me why?" the professor asked. Shaggy bit his lip again.

"Uh..."

"Because x can only be positive," the voice whispered again.

"Because x can only be positive," Shaggy said louder. The professor nodded.

"Very well."

The professor carried on. Shaggy turned around to thank whoever had been passing him answers.

"Like hey," Shaggy said quietly when he realized it was Velma. She smiled slightly and gave him a small wave.

"Like I didn't know you were in this class," Shaggy said as they exited the class together when the lecture was over. Out in the hallway, they stopped off the the side not far from the door.

"Yeah. I've sat behind you all quarter. I raise my hand to answwer everyday but he never seems to notice me. I hope he's at least marking me down for attendance," Velma joked, but then her face grew serious. "I should probably make sure he's marking me down for attendance."

"What class do you have next?" Shaggy asked, leaning against the wall.

"English," Velma answered.

"Ah. Well,"Shaggy rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Maybe sometime... uh, you're pretty good at the math stuff, right?"

"I'm...okay," Velma lied, very aware of the five perfect quizzes in her bag.

"Well, maybe sometime, do you think we could study together?" Shaggy mumbled. "Like, sometimes I don't quite understand what's going on, and maybe you could help me out?"

"Uh, yeah. Definitely," Velma nodded. She checked her watch. "I've got to go to class."

"Ah right. Uh, like I'll see you later?"

"Oh, uh...yes. Later," Velma confirmed.

"Groovy. Like, later."

Velma waved. Shaggy smiled back, and turned to leave. Velma paused for a moment, thinking through the path to her next class when the math professor walked out of the room in front of her.

"Oh, uh, sir? Can I talk to you?"


Daphne wandered back and forth through the history section of the library. She had been given the ability to write an essay on any event in British history between 1700 and 1750. In Daphne's opinion, that was too broad of a spectrum. It wasn't quite late enough for the American Revolution, or really anything worth writing about.

"Why couldn't it have been French history?" she muttered to herself. She ran a finger down the shelf, pausing every so often to pull a book off to obersve it better.

"Look, man, you just need to stop worrying about it," a man's voice from the other side of the shelf said.

"Dude, I can't. I keep thinking about it. It's...ugh, it just keeps bothering me," another man replied. His voice dropped even lower than it already was. "We need to come clean, man. We gotta tell someone."

"No," the first man snapped. "You gotta keep it quiet. Just a little bit longer at least."

"Man, I can't wait that long," the second man insisted.

Daphne snuck down the shelf to the end. She peered around the end of the shelf.

Two young men, both wearing blue and white letterman jackets. They had crew cuts, and were both roughly the size of Fred- about 6'1 and 200 pounds.

"No one even cares about it anymore. You gotta chill out, man," the first man said.

He put a hand on the other guy's shoulder and leaned in close. Daphne had to strain to hear.

"Just keep his stuff out of sight and you won't think about it. Hide it under your bed or shove it in the closet. Okay? Dude, you gotta chill out or your gonna get us in trouble."

Daphne turned back, worried her rapidly beating heart was going to give her away. She closed her eyes and listened harder to the conversation.

"Wouldn't want it that way," the second guy said. "Can we at least do something to honor him?"

"Would that make you feel better?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it would," the second guy nodded. "How about something at the field?"

"You think captain Jones would let us do that?" the first guy said frustrated. A chill went down Daphne's spine as she realized they were talking about Fred. "He wouldn't let us close."

"How about Casem Hall then?" the second guy offered. "He always liked it there. The arhcitecture and everything."

"Fine. We'll arrange a vigil or something. It's kind of late, but we'll make it happen. Okay? Will that put your mind at ease?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll start figuring stuff out. How about tomorrow after the game?" the second man said.

"The team's going to be exhausted. How about Sunday?" the first man suggested.

"Cool. Sunday."

Daphne waited. They didn't continue talking. After a moment, he heard footsteps as they walked away. Slowly, she peered around the shelf again. They were gone.

On the other side of the library, Velma approached the circulation desk.

"Hello. Uh, I'm here to inquire about the student librarian position?" she asked quietly to the woman sitting behind the desk.

"Are you in the Library Science program?" the librarian asked, pulling out a list from a nearby folder.

"Yes, ma'am. My name is Velma Dinkley."

The librarian ran a finger down the list until she found the name.

"Wonderful," she marked a star next to the name. "All we need is the name of a professor we can contact for a reference."

"Oh. Uh... Dr. Peter Davidson," Velma offered.

"Great. We'll just get in contact. All I need is your home phone number and..." the librarian trailed off as she looked Velma up and down. She looked up at Velma and smiled. "Give me one moment."

She rolled her chair backwards and stopped next to another librarian. They discussed something in hushed voices for a moment, and then the librarian came back over.

"Actually, we're not sure you're a suitable applicant. We appreciate your interest, but it... it's just not right for you."

"But, but," Velma stammered. "I have the entire Dewey decimal system memorized. I come highly recommended from Dr. Davidson, or any of my professors. All of them. Ask any of them."

"I'm sure," the librarian smiled again. "I'm sorry."

Velma stared at her for a moment, before turning and making her way to an empty seat at one of the long tables at the other end of the hall.

She dropped her bag on the ground next to an open chair, and sat down. She leaned her crutch up against the table, removed her glasses, and put her head down. She just sat there for a moment, her chest heaving, willing herself not to cry. Not here. Not now.

Slam.

Velma's chair was pushed forward into the table. Rubbing her sternum where it hit the table, she turned. A young guy pushing a book cart had slammed right into her chair.

"Hey!"

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, kneeling down to pick up fallen books. "I didn't see you there."

He finished picking up the books and stood back up. He muttered another apology and pushed the cart forward.

Velma sighed deeply. Pain prickled through her leg. She went to pull up her socks, only to remember she was wearing tights.

"Velma!"

Velma jumped in her chair as Daphne slid into the chair next to her.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," Daphne said quietly. "I've got loads to tell you about this conversation I just heard... are... are you okay?"

"What?" Velma asked. She realized there were tears rolling down her face. She quickly wiped them off on the sleeve of her dress. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Uh, what-what conversation?"

"Uh, I'll tell you later tonight," Daphne said slowly. "You... are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"You know what," Daphne said, placing a hand on Velma's shoulder. "Let's go get a cup of coffee. There's a neat little cafe nearby. Let's go."

Velma checked her watch.

"I can't. I have class in half an hour."

"Forget class. Coffee is more important."


"And they didn't even interview me," Velma said.

Her glasses and untouched cup of coffee set on the table in front of her. Her hands ran up and down her face. Finally she put her chin in her hand, put her glasses back on, and took a sip of her coffee.

"They just looked at me and decided I wasn't right for it. They... they don't even know me."

"I know what you mean," Daphne said, sipping her own coffee.

Velma stared out the window.

"Am I invisible?"

"What?"

"Am I invisible?" she repeated.

"No of course you're not invisible," Daphne said. "I mean... you're sitting right in front of me. I can see you."

"But you didn't see me the other day," Velma pointed out. "And my professor doesn't see me in class and people run into me all the time. I just feel... invisible. Which... which I can't even understand because I feel like I'm being watched all the time. People look at me. They stare. And yet I still feel like they're just seeing right through me. How can I be notiecd and yet invisible at the same time?"

Daphne gave her a sympathetic look. They sipped their coffees in silence for a moment. Then a thought came to Daphne.

"Of course," she said under her breath.

"Of course what?"

"Being noticed and still being invisible. That's it. That's how it fits.

"How what fits?" Velma crossed her arms. "Are you even listening to me?

"What? Oh, yes, yes I am and I don't want to distract from what you're saying because it's important and I'm here for you. I just... I just realized how Danny Snyder made it all the way across campus the day he died without being properly noticed."

Daphne waited for Velma to indicate permission to go on. Velma sighed, and waved her on.

"We have proof that Danny was last seen 'officially' at Gregor's Restaurant around 3 pm because we have a receipt and the bartender's statement. But several other people claim to have seen him last at several different places around campus before he was found. But no one was quite sure that it was him, so not one of them is considered to be the last person who saw him," Daphne explained in a low voice. "But he was a popular guy. People knew who he was and what he looked like. So how could he have walked through the entire campus and be noticed but still not be recognized."

Velma thought for a moment.

"The scarf, hat, and gloves," she stated. "If he wasn't wearing his letterman jacket and he was bundled up in winter wear, no one would have known it was him unless they saw him closely. Which no one did."

"Exactly," Daphne smiled. "I think we need to revisit those witnesses, wouldn't you agree?"

Velma nodded. She looked out the window again. The sun was out and the weather appeared to be beautiful, but once outside, the wind was biting. She thought back to the weather on the day of Danny Snyder's murder. It had been similarly cold and biting, but the sun hadn't been out.

"Is there anything else you want to talk about?" Daphne offered, pulling Velma back to the present. Velma shook her head, and sipped her coffee again.

"Hey. Like, cool tie-dye tights, man," a hippie kid said to Velma as he passed by their table.

"Tie-dye tights? I'm not wearing... oh no..."

Velma looked down at her legs. Her white tights now had bright red spots down her left leg, spots that coinsided perfectly with the parts of her brace that pinched her the most. She grabbed a few napkins off the table and tried to dab up some of the blood, to no avail.

"See?" Daphne offered hopefully as Velma tried to clean herself up. "You're not invisible."