Chapter Text

1

According to Velma Dinkley, the story went a little like this:

• There once was a group of four friends and a dog who solved mysteries.
• I loved them but always felt a little distant, like I didn’t belong.
• We called ourselves the Mystery Gang.
• That Mystery Gang solved too many mysteries leading to the demise of our team.
• Parents got mad.
• Grades weren’t good.
• College was coming but before it could. . .
• Our parents broke up our friendships.
• Friendship #1: Daphne Blake decided to disappear in plain sight.
• Friendship #2: Fred Jones needed to figure out his life and so he actually disappeared.
• Friendship #3: Shaggy Rogers was sent to military school.
• Friendship #4: Scooby Dooby Doo was sent to the ‘farm,’ which had to be bad.
• Then there’s just me, I’m still here. Alone.

Velma underlines the bad in her second to last item on her list and stares blankly at it. The day’s been pretty slow at the book shop and by pretty slow, she really means, nobody’s come in since she first opened for the day.

There was a time and a place after everything where she tried her best to disappear only to fail. Without much notice for her mom, she packed her bags and left. Since she didn’t own a car or a bike, she started walking choosing haunted motels along the way to stay at. Money ran out. Without money. Well, she failed and ended up back in Crystal Cove after making a single most dreaded phone call:

Mom. . .I’m sorry. . .Can you come pick me up?

Not once on the ride back did her mom ask a question and somehow even out in that desert heat, Velma made it far. A miracle. It helped some cars let her hitchhike. Though she sat there with her hand on a knife from beginning to end. The hilt was pastel purple, something that matched Daphne that she took from her home way back when they all still talked. It was right at the end when she knew everything was about to break. Ever since, Velma kept it close for memories and protection.

Once back, the two returned to Crystal Cove, Velma’s mom stopped right at the Welcome sign and asked one question:

Do you need any money?

Velma nodded, too embarrassed to find the correct words. The headlights shone so bright lighting up that signed welcoming them both back to the most haunted place in the world or something like that. It wasn’t great to be back.

A few beats of silence passed between the two while they continued to sit there. Nobody drove in and out of town. Not once did Velma’s mom look over at her. Instead, she made one more comment on the situation at hand:

Let me know when you find a place then. If you want to stay, stay or stay until you find a place and a job. I’ll pay first month’s rent.

That ended that. Within the day, Velma found a place. Crystal Cove was full of eerie coincidences. Again and again, life casually fell into place like how the studio apartment never asked her how old she was, about her credit, and it sat right above a new bookshop dedicated to selling only mystery books with the occasional thriller or horror title to accompany it.

Then somehow a year passed leading to Velma sitting around in the bookshop, not in college, not in community college, not with her friends around, and enough money to keep her afloat for the time being.

Velma pushes her list a bit to the side and looks at the clock. The shop owner’s gone for the week on some vacation leaving her pretty much alone other than the one kid who ‘volunteers’ on weekends. It’s not a weekend, and the kid didn’t always show up. The clock somewhat ticks away. Just a half-hour and she can temporarily close up for some lunch. Seems like a great idea. Food.

The bell up front rings. Figures, somebody enters right when she wants to get on out of there. Velma brings her list back closer again without much more to add, it’s just she doesn’t want to look up. Let them wander the stacks as she hopes they’ll leave before her alleged lunch break. Whoever entered slips into the crooked shelves, they’re more labrinth than useful bookstore. The owner set everything up in historical, chronological order to their whim.

“Didn’t expect to see you here. . .V.”

Some reason Velma slaps her hands over her list and snaps her attention up to find Hot Dog Water standing before her. Out of all the bookstores she could’ve walked into in the world, it had to be this joint. Velma pushes her glasses up her nose a tad bit as if that'll help her understand Hot Dog Water is in fact standing right in front of her. Hot Dog Water who terrorized people in the past. Hot Dog Water her academic enemy and enemy beyond school hallways. Hot Dog Water who was supposed to be in prison.

“What are you doing here?” retorts Velma, it comes off ruder than she intends. No, that’s a lie. She meant to be rude.

“What do most people come here for?” Hot Dog Water gives her one of those partial, sneaky half smirks.

Velma sighs. “Ok, then. Can I help you?”

“Yeah, can you pass this along.” Hot Dog Water drops a resume down on the front desk. It’s even got a cover letter and the weird little survey to fill out as well. “Saw the now hiring sign in the window and online.”

“Ok, but we’re not hiring. . .” Velma trails away wanting to sprint out front to double check. Instead, she takes the resume and stares at it for a few seconds before she steps over to the side, picks up the phone dialing the shop owner. It rings about three times before they pick up. “Hi, this is Velma Dinkley at. . .”

“I know who this is.”

“Right, are you hiring? Somebody came here today with an application.” Velma hesitates shooting Hot Dog Water a look. Yet somehow different words than she expects fall out, “I know her from school, she has a record, but I. . .but I trust her.”

“If you trust her then I trust her, Velma. Email me a pdf of her application and I’ll let you know in a day or two. Is she there right now?”

Again, Velma gives Hot Dog Water a look. “Yes, she is.”

“Tell her what I said. I’ll be in contact with her either way.”

“Ok.” Without saying bye, Velma hangs up and manages a smile for Hot Dog Water. “I’ll send it to her. Don’t worry.”

“I trust you. . .too,” adds Hot Dog Water.

“Thanks.” Velma glances at the clock and so does Hot Dog Water. Lunch is so close so this girl needs to scram. “She’ll be in contact with you in a few days. Either way.”

Hot Dog Water continues to watch the clock tick away. Without looking at Velma, she asks, “Would you like to. . .get lunch together?”

Velma bites her bottom lip. She continues to look at the clock and peers at Hot Dog Water without ever turning her head. “Um, yeah, sure.” The two make eye contact for all of a split second before Velma returns to looking down at her desk, her hands covering her list and Hot Dog Water looks at the exit. “I can close up now, if that works?”

“It works.”

“Cool.”

Hot Dog Water nods. “Cool.”

“I’ll. . .meet you outside. Ok?”

“Ok.” And Hot Dog Water leaves.

The bell rings all over again announcing her exit in the same way she entered. Velma starts to pack some items up, checks the register, looks for the Be Back Soon sign in case somebody shows up. Nobody will show up. Only she pauses looking at her list all over again and picks up a pencil all over again.

Velma starts to write out a new one dedicated to not the Mystery Gang. Because what? What was that back there with her on the phone and Hot Dog Water and her application. It’s still sitting right there waiting to get all scanned and sent out. Doesn’t seem fair that a rival would show up here before any of her friends. Daphne is still in town. They’ve seen each other from a distance. Each time Daphne would hug her new boyfriend and turn away whispering something to him. Not once did Velma try to talk to Daphne either though. So they’re both at fault. Either way, lists help find logical results and so Velma writes. . .

• Hot Dog Water isn’t a nice name, it’s a little cruel.
• What if I’m a bad person?
• I’m too stubborn to apologize or call her anything else.
• Is that why Daphne and I don’t talk?

Oh wait, so Velma crosses out the last bullet point altogether.

• If she asks not to be called H.D.W. I’ll change (maybe).
• Why is H.D.W out of prison early?
• H.D.W. only wanted to support her dad and his failing amusement park.
• Does that make her the good person?
• Why did she invite me out to lunch when I’m the reason she was caught and I was mean to her?

Velma stares at it then ends up adding one final bullet point. But Hot Dog Water, Hot Dog Water is the one who shows up to talk. Why her and not Daphne? It’s Crystal Cove back at it with the eerie coincidences.

• I think I like it when she calls me V.

No, wait again. Instead, she crosses out the I think on the list letting it live instead as:

• I like it when she calls me V.

The end yet Velma picks up her new note, rips it up and drops it in the little wastebasket underneath her desk. With the sign in hand, she exits and hangs it up making sure to lock the place. Turning around Hot Dog Water sort of just smirks at her. Doesn’t look like she knows what to do with her hands as she stands there. She fixes her glasses, picks at her clothes, and then waves to Velma.

Hot Dog Water says, “What took you so long?”

“Secret.” Velma’s maybe more surprised than Hot Dog Water over her genuine smile in the moment because in return, that smirk is gone and a friendly smile instead. “Ready?”

“Always.”

Velma starts to walk, she keeps a pace a tad bit faster than Hot Dog Water’s so nobody can see that the two are walking next to one another. She throws a few quick glances over her shoulder unsure if she should make a joke or three about her comment. Something more along the lines of: Good, we’re gonna need that attitude. But there’s no we in any situation. It’s just Velma Dinkley versus the world.

Without saying anything, Velma quickens her pace. There’s no destination either of them has said out loud but it’s not like there’s a lot of places to select from. Small desert town and all. While neither of them says a word, Velma adds a bullet point to her list. It may be all ripped up but it’s also in her brain.

• Ask H.D.W. later if she’d be interested in solving some mysteries. It’s not like they stopped existing without Daphne, Fred, Scoob, and Shaggy.

“What?” Hot Dog Water breaks the silence and it’s right when she catches up with Velma. They’re feet fall in sync with one another. “Why’re you making that face?”

They arrive at a little tea shop. The two stop outside. Velma looks at her and smiles getting ready to open the door for the two of them. “I’ll tell you but later. First, lunch.”

“I like the way you think.” Hot Dog Water heads inside first as Velma holds onto the door and Velma is there smiling like crazy. It’s so stupid. It’s all so stupid. “You coming, V?”

“Yeeeeah. . .I mean, yes, I am.” Velma enters and the two are seated at a small table across one another. Somehow the words spring straight from her mouth. It catches her off guard. The words feel like the impossible, as if they make her heart skip a beat but then she’d be dead. “So. . .Hot Dog Water. . .you like mysteries?”

“My name’s Marcie, it’s not like we’re in school or anything anymore.”

True. Velma lifts a menu up so she can’t see her cheeks burning up a bit. “So. . .Marcie. . .do you like solving mysteries?”