Writer's note: A few years ago, I wrote a series of stories called "The Adult Scooby Gang". Don't get lost on the word 'adult', there was no smut. It takes place when The Scooby Gang are crossing from their 20's to their 30's. They faced adult problems and adult themes. There were violent scenes and they faced death. A handful of people read those stories. When I was done, a smaller handful of people asked if I would write an origin story for those characters. This is that story.
Prologue
"I won't do it."
Angie Dinkley looked into the flat expressionless eyes of her eldest daughter. "You already promised."
Velma shook her head. "I said that I would do your dumb podcast. I didn't say that I would perpetuate an unscientific myth."
"You have to say it, Velma. It's the slogan of Crystal Cove."
"I will not say that Crystal Cove is the Most Haunted Place on Earth. There are no such things as ghosts."
At least Velma's flat tone meant that Angie did not have to deal with the standard teenage whine so prevalent with girls her daughter's age.
On cue her younger daughter, Madelyn showed up. "If Velma doesn't want to do it, I do it! I'll say whatever you want me to say!" Yes. That whine.
Angie was now caught in the parent's dilemma. The whole idea of doing a podcast for the museum was to help Velma learn to put emotion into her speaking voice. Even a mother found the robotic monotone to be just a little unnerving. And now, Velma—who needed the help—didn't want to do it and Madelyn—her little sister who definitely did not need to be putting any more emotion into her voice—wanted to do it.
Angie tried to put her foot down. "Velma, you're doing the podcast."
Both girls in unison. "Why?"
As a modern, socially-enlightened parent, Angie had read and studied all of the available books on parenting psychology. She came up with, "Because I say so." Sometimes, you just have to go with the classics.
Madelyn stormed out of the kitchen and Velma's fists tightened into her confrontational pose. "But I won't have my name associated with anything that implies that ghosts are real."
"But we need the advertising for the shop and the city tourism board won't put us on the city website if we don't stay with their theme. People come here to see ghosts."
"And they leave disappointed."
"But they spend money before they do and your father and I need them to spend that money in the Crystal Cove Spook Museum."
"Ugh, what was wrong with the old name?"
"Crystal Cove Seaside Souvenirs wasn't bringing in the business. The mayor thinks we could be the Roswell, New Mexico for ghosts."
"You mean a national joke?"
"A national joke with a brisk tourist trade and conventions. And you gave your word about the podcast."
"I didn't agree to say the city was haunted."
It was time for compromise. "What about saying that Crystal Cove is a center for unexplained and possibly paranormal activity."
"Nothing happens here that can't be scientifically explained."
"What about Crystal Cove is a city filled with mysteries."
"Mysteries? That's a ridiculous word. Who would say such a thing?"
"Isn't a mystery something that hasn't yet been scientifically explained?"
"I supposed. But it's still a lame word."
"It will grow on you. Now start the podcast and try and put some inflection in your voice. We don't want people to think that we cheaped out and had an AI read it.
"Fine."
Velma trudged up the stairs to the room she shared with her sister and shut the door. She had already given her whole summer working in her parents' store when she should be getting into the meat of writing her paper 'Quasi-Particles and Collective Excitations at Linear Dispersive Degenerate Points with Topological First Principle Chern Numbers' which she was going to try and publish in Scientific Weekly. But she had said she would do it. So, she would do it.
She made some edits and then began to read into the microphone plugged into her computer.
"Welcome listeners, to Episode One of the podcast The Mysteries of Crystal Cove. Each week, we will go over a different mystery about this town, give the scientific explanation, and confirm that there is nothing paranormal going on here."
She hit 'pause'. Each podcast was supposed to be between fifteen and twenty minutes long. The timer on her recording app said she was at fourteen seconds. This was going to take a while.
But at least tomorrow was her first day of high school. That was something to be excited about.
xXx
"Father, I don't understand why I have to do this. I'm a Blake!"
Barty Blake wondered to himself Why was it always Daphne? He tried to remain calm as he answered. "Because I went to public school at Coolsville High as did your mother and your older sisters.
"But what's the purpose? All of my friends go to Danforth. I spent all summer with them at theater camp, cotillion, and the country club.
Nan Blake, the matriarch of the Blake clan chimed in. "You have friends from the public school as well. That is where you attended elementary and middle schools."
"Those aren't my real friends. They're so… different from us. I have nothing in common with them. Not like my Danforth friends"
"Exactly!" Barty jumped on Daphne's statement. "They aren't like us. They are going to be working for you someday. And now, you have to beat them on their home ground. Let them know that being a Blake means more than just having money. It means being the best—and being on top. Ten years from now they will know why you tell them what to do and they do it."
"I don't have the best grades."
"It's not about grades. It's about power. You have to run that school, like you did your middle school."
"There will be so many new people. Only half of the students will know me."
"But everyone will know who you are. Pick the new additions to your friend circle carefully. Each must have a role in getting you to the top. Your boyfriends must be the most handsome, most athletic, most respected, and from the best families. They must be able to take you to places where a Blake would want to be seen."
"But what if I don't like them?"
Nan's turn again. "They don't have to last for long. Just keep cycling through and eventually you will find one that meets the criteria and that you like. I did." She looked fondly at her husband.
Barty took back over. "You can never forget who you are and, every minute of every day, you are proving to these people why—one day—you will deserve to be running the corporation that puts food on their table.
No pressure or anything.
xXx
This was the day. Angela Wainright was not the prettiest girl in Eastern Middle School. Nor was she particularly interesting or fun to be with. But she was in Fred's bedroom while his father not home. Fred had been working on this through most of the summer.
They were sitting on the edge of Fred's bed and they were kissing. So far, so good. He gently tried to lean her back so that they would be lying down. Her right arm dropped from around his neck and reached out as a prop to keep herself in sitting position. A couple more tentative tugs by him confirmed that she was determined to remain sitting up. But she kept kissing him which meant the opportunity was still there.
Never one to take a hint, he tried the more direct approach and slid his hand from around her waist to the bottom of her Wonder Woman t-shirt and touched the bare skin of her waist. He slowly worked his hand up inside her t-shirt until she took her left hand from around his neck and used it to pull his roving hand out from under her shirt.
She spoke for the first time. "No." But her breathing was heavy and she released his hand to reach back around his neck and resume kissing.
Never one to take two hints, Fred brought his hand back to the skin of her waist and, instead of moving it up, he moved it down.
Angela sprang to her feet. "No! We're not going to do that, Fred!"
So close.
Fred was frustrated now and a little mad. "Why not?!"
"Because I don't want to!"
"Don't you want to be with me?"
"I want to be your girlfriend. Not your sex… person."
"It's the same thing!"
Her anger froze into a cold hard thing. "No. It's not. You were never going to be my boyfriend, were you? All the time we spent together this summer… it was all about this." She gestured around the room and then towards the bed.
Fred knew just enough to know that the change from burning hot to ice cold did not bode well for his chances. But he didn't give up. "We're adults now and this is what being boyfriend and girlfriend means. Look at your friend Marcia."
Her fists went to her side. All of the body language was looking bad. "Do you mean Marcia the slut? That's what everybody calls her. And that was from one night of drinking too much at a party. I'm, like, her last friend. She cries herself to sleep every night. That's what you want for me?"
"No one would have to know. It would be our secret." It was a testimony to Fred's denseness that he thought his plans could still be salvaged. He fired his last and best salvo. "You're my girlfriend."
"Am I?" She didn't look angry anymore. "Let's prove that. I am telling you right now that you and I will never have sex until we are married. Now, get on your phone and change your relationship status to in a relationship with me.
Fred did not reach for his phone. "But…"
She nodded. "So, no sex, no relationship. Right?"
"That's how…"
"…it works? No. That is not how it works. If I had slept with you, then you'd have dumped me without ever letting anyone know that I was your girlfriend. That was your plan, wasn't it? I had dreams of starting high school with Fred Jones as my boyfriend. But that was never going to happen. I was just going to be some sort of conquest for you to brag to your buddies about."
Fred now knew that this was a lost cause and there was no more need for words. Besides, she was exactly right.
But she had plenty more to say. "I'm going to call all my friends and let them know what kind of jerk you are. Everyone will know that you're a monster!" She turned and stormed from the house.
And Fred was left with the knowledge that he was going to start high school as a virgin.
xXx
Shaggy was surrounded by moving boxes and hugging Scooby Doo as hard as he could. It didn't change the sounds of shouting from downstairs.
Paula Rogers pleaded with her husband. "Colton, pleased keep your voice down. Uncle Edward could be back any time."
Colton Rogers roared back. "So what?! What does your fancy pants uncle care about our problems?!"
"Then please lower your voice because Norville is upstairs and he can hear."
"Why shouldn't he hear?! If we didn't have to move away from his druggie friends, we could still be in Plainsville and I could be working to save the farm."
"You know that's not true. Our losing the farm had nothing to do with Norville's problems."
"We haven't lost the farm, yet."
"We have. It's the bank's farm, now. Just because they haven't been able to find someone to buy it doesn't make it ours. It's gone."
"It didn't have to be! Right upstairs we have the answer to all of our financial problems. There's a talking dog up there! A talking dog! How much would people pay to see that. How much would the government pay to study him?"
Scooby leaned into Shaggy's chest and whimpered softly.
"You gave your word." Paula reminded her husband.
"What good is my word when it cost me everything?"
"You only know how good your word is when it costs you everything."
"If we were still in Plainsville, I could be working to try and pay the bank instead of being here and having to take your uncle's charity."
"This is where we are. You have a job and we have a roof over our heads. Both thanks to my uncle but only until we get established. We'll turn things around. I know we will."
"Only if Norville can quit doing drugs and get his head back on straight."
"That's behind us now. We're going to get a fresh start in Crystal Cove. I know it."
Things quieted downstairs but Shaggy and Scooby continued to hold each other and shake. All of this on top of the anxiety of starting a new school in a new town tomorrow.
"Scoob, I need to settle my nerves. I'm going to take a walk."
"R'I'll go rith roo."
"No. You stay here. I'll only be a few minutes." He reached deeply into one of the boxes and pulled out a baggie filled with pot and a small pipe. "I just need to take the edge off."
