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Chapter Text

The last two weeks had been a significant deviation from Crystal Cove’s usual picturesque weather. Even worse, the ten-day forecast predicted that the town would remain absurdly hot and humid for the foreseeable future. So with the air conditioning busted at home, her friends all out of town, and the library closed for remodeling, Velma had no respite from the heat unless she went to her parents’ shop. The downside to that option, of course, was that she’d immediately get pressed into service.

When a bead of sweat unpleasantly trickled down her forehead and fell from the tip of her nose onto her book Velma gave up. She snapped her book shut and threw it into her messenger bag along with a few other sundry items. Forced labor would be better than melting at home. Besides, the shop typically wasn’t that busy on a Wednesday, so Velma would likely get to read more, and there was a reasonable chance the parental units would pay her something if they made her work. As much as they liked them, Angie and Dale Dinkley weren’t monsters.

So Velma strapped on her helmet and biked into town. When she arrived at the Spook Museum Velma chained up her bike and wandered through the back door into the Broken Spine, the in resident museum gift shop. Thankfully, its inventory consisted primarily of books. If it had been full of chattering skull toys, strobe lights, and other obnoxious kitsch she’d rather melt at home.

Dale spotted her as soon as she entered the shop. “Velma honey, what are you doing here? He asked, hustling to her side.

“The house AC is still broken,” Velma explained after taking a moment to enjoy the cool, if slightly stale, air.

“Oh drat, I knew I forgot something,” Dale sighed. He checked his watch. “If you’re willing to watch the shop I can try calling for an HVAC repair appointment.”

“Of course, Dad,” Velma agreed. Anything to make home habitable again.

Dale smiled vaguely at her and squeezed her shoulder briefly before pulling out his cell phone. He squinted through coke-bottle glasses at the screen as he tapped away, presumably looking up the repair company. Soon he was on hold and wandered out of the shop. Since she was now alone in the gift shop, Velma took the vacant seat at the register and pulled out her book to resume reading.

She had made significant progress in her murder mystery when she heard something clink on the counter top. Shutting her book Velma pasted on her best customer service smile.

“Thanks for stopping by the Broken Spine gift shop. We hope you enjoyed your tour of the Crystal Cove Spook Museum. Did you locate everything you needed?” Velma rattled off by rote. She blinked and took in who was standing across the counter from her. “Hot Dog Water?”

“You know, in a customer service setting you could at least manage to use my name.”

“Sorry Marcie,” Velma apologized. She was completely right; it was unprofessional to have used that detested nickname under the current circumstances. She could do better. “I just… was not expecting to see you here. Did you really take the tour?”

“Of course not!” Marcie scoffed. She tapped the book she had set on the counter. It was a colorful children’s book titled The Practical Guide to Basic Unicorn Care and Maintenance and featured a headshot of a pink unicorn with a glittery mane. “Just picking something up.”

Velma said nothing as she rang up the purchase. It was a struggle, but she didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

“It’s for my cousin,” Marcie blurted out when Velma pointedly didn’t comment. “She’s turning seven, lives out east, and is into this sort of junk. I don’t know what else to get her.”

“Is she interested in unicorns specifically or fantasy stuff in general?”

“Both? I don’t know. I see her like twice a year and last time I saw her she was going on about a show featuring unicorns and unicorns with wings.”

“Alicorn,” Velma said absent-mindedly.

“What?”

“A unicorn with wings is an alicorn,” Velma explained. “A horse with wings is a Pegasus, the species of course named after Hercules’s heroic steed from Greek Mythology.”

“That’s a highly specific and equally useless piece of trivia.”

“Not if you want to appear cool to your seven-year-old cousin,” Velma retorted. “Look, the book is a great choice if you want to give her an educational present to get her reading, but we have other things that she’d be more excited about.”

They stared at each other. The tension was thick enough that Velma adjusted her glasses to focus on something else. Marcie followed suit. They weren’t friends, but their bitter science fair rivalry had never developed into full-blown hate. Partly because in the back of her mind when she was feeling particularly stumped on an experiment the little voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Marcie Fleach would pipe up and offer her a clue, or a bread crumb, or simply a different way of looking at the problem and that usually got Velma a breakthrough. She always wondered what it would be like to get the real Marcie’s opinion on her unfinished projects. They’d probably be at each other’s throats before she finished her first sentence.

“Can you show me other gifts?” Marcie asked. Velma nodded and cancelled the current transaction.

She got up and led Marcie through the aisles until they reached a slightly more colorful section of the shop. Here instead of books were toys. Most were action figures in blister packs of one sort or another, but there was also a shelf full of stuffed animals and a barrel brimming with chattering skulls. Velma hated the skulls. From the dubious look Marcie gave them she wasn’t a fan either. Great, maybe they could form a relationship off of that. There were worse things to build a relationship on than a mutual hatred of an obnoxious toy.

“Here,” Velma said, lifting a box off one of the shelves.

It was a pastel pink box with a heart shaped window on the front. Through it one could see several brightly colored equines. One looked like a regular pony, one was a unicorn, and the third a Pegasus. The characters were from a popular children’s show. The only reason the Broken Spine was selling it was because Angie had clicked on the wrong box while trying to order from the Myths and Monsters collection.

Velma offered her the box, which Marcie reluctantly took. She frowned as she examined the packaging. Still, it was clear she was considering purchasing it. Velma kind of hated to do it, but she decided to give The Sell for the toy, if for no other reason than to avoid a lecture from her parents later.

“They’re characters from a popular children’s TV show, possibly the one your cousin likes. They’ve got some moveable parts and real doll hair for the mane and tail,” Velma explained, recounting what she could remember about the toy set. “Plus, I have it on good authority that they’re a surprisingly hardy set that can survive significant drops and dog jaws with minimal damage.”

Shaggy and Scooby had determined those features.

“I guess,” Marcie frowned, tapping the package. “I still like the book better, but she’d probably like this more.”

“Why not get her both?” Velma suggested. “That way she gets fun and stealth educational gifts. Neither item is terribly expensive, but together they’d make a pretty groovy gift.”

“Groovy?” Marcie snorted, but she did smile, so it didn’t feel as hostile as her usual jabs.

“The parentals say it a lot. When I’m in their store I honor their words,” Velma said, shrugging. “Come on, I’ll ring you up.”

The rest of their transaction went swiftly. Marcie paid without even grimacing at the frankly exorbitant prices that Velma’s folks had set and then went on to thank her for her help. This threw Velma for a loop because Marcie of all people knew she only did it to help out the family business and what that entailed. So she mumbled a socially appropriate response and felt awkward until her rival left the shop. She didn’t have any other customers before Dale returned to relieve her.

She didn’t mention Marcie’s visit during dinner. Instead when Angie asked about her day Velma discussed her current novel at some length before asking Dale about the repair appointment. It was an effective subject change. After dinner Velma washed the dishes and then secured her astronomy equipment to her bicycle.

“Where are you going?” Angie asked just as Velma wheeled her bike out of the garage. Velma sighed. There was no way to avoid talking to her now; if she answered that would lead to more questions and likely an embarrassing conversation, but if she refused to answer she wouldn’t be allowed off the property.

“Out. There’s supposed to be a meteor shower in three hours and I want to get to a good location and set up before it starts,” Velma explained, tapping her telescope case as proof.

“And that location would be?”

“…Observation Point,” Velma finally said. Technically, she wanted a hill one hundred yards up from Observation Point, as it had an un-obscured aerial view, but that difference would be lost on her mother. Especially because she preferred to call it by its more informal name, Lover’s Lane.

“Will there be boys there?” Angie asked. This was the line of inquiry Velma had wanted to avoid.

“I don’t know. Probably,” Velma said, shrugging defensively. Angie wouldn’t have believed any other answer. “It doesn’t really matter, since they have nothing to do with me or why I’ll be there.”

“You do have the protection I gave you after our talk last month, don’t you?” Angie asked. “If not, I can get you more.”

“Oh my god, Mom stop!” Velma shouted, covering her face with both hands. She could feel her face heating up. “I’m not—I don’t—I just want to do some star gazing!”

“Star gazing wasn’t just gazing at the stars back in my day, if you know what I mean.”

“Enough!”

“I just want you safe.”

“Then let me get my license so that I can drive to further out locations for my astronomy observation. I’d avoid Observation Point at all costs if it weren’t the only place in biking distance with minimal light pollution and a clear view.”

“I’m not so sure the view will be what you want tonight, Pumpkin,” Dale said as he joined the conversation. “The weatherman’s predicting storms later tonight.”

Velma’s shoulders slumped. This was the only noteworthy astronomical event of the summer for Crystal Cove. She didn’t want to miss it due to cloud cover. Even worse, she didn’t want to miss any chance to see it by not attempting to go. Its not like she had any other plans for tonight. “That still means there’s a slim chance to catch the start of the meteor shower. I want to at least try, since there won’t be another one this year.”

“Okay, but you call if you need a ride home.”

“Thanks Daddy,” Velma said, getting on her bike.

“Really Dale?” Angie said.

“What? We know where she’s going, what she’s doing, and she’ll mope all through the movie if we make her stay home,” Dale said. “It’s not like she’s going mystery solving on her own.”

Velma left before she could hear her mother’s response to that. Of course biking wasn’t anywhere near as fast as the Mystery Machine and Velma was no athlete, so it took her over an hour to reach the point. She had to walk her bike up the hill, but that was still better than carrying her telescope. It was heavy. Once she had finally reached her summit Velma quickly set up her telescope. The sun had set by this point, but that didn’t slow her progress any—Velma could reassemble a telescope blindfolded. Only then did she sit and rest.

She was expecting to have at least a solid hour to chill out in the dark on her own, a rare luxury, before the shower started. That would allow her time to unwind and decompress, therefore making her far more engaged while recording her observations. Unfortunately, Velma soon had a pair of headlights blinding her and completely ruining her quiet alone time. She stood, furious and ready to defend her hilltop. These teens could fool around down below on the paved road like all the others, thank you very much.

“If you came to hook up, do it down below with the others,” Velma snapped. “This is a scientific inquiry zone.”

“Velma?” came a familiar voice from the vehicle.

“Marcie?”

The headlights turned off and a light in the interior turned on, illuminating the driver. It was indeed Marcie. She opened a door and got out of the car before walking over to Velma.

“You’re here for the meteor shower too?” Marcie asked.

“Yeah, but what are you doing here?” Velma asked. “Doesn’t your dad own acres and acres of land that would give you primo space for night observation?”

“The light pollution is way too bad. Creepy Spooky Terror Land has been undergoing a lighting retrofit and the new LEDs are so cost efficient he’s got the park almost as bright at night as it would be during the day.”

Velma winced. She had noticed a brighter glow in that direction of the night sky, but thought that was the new stadium, not the amusement park.

“It’s that bad, huh?” Velma finally said.

“I had to get blackout curtains if I want to sleep before the park fully closes for the night,” Marcie said ruefully. “We live a mile away.”

There was silence again, but this time it wasn’t as awkward as it typically was. Perhaps because they could barely see each other. Velma adjusted her glasses and considered turning off the lights the next time they got into an argument before discarding the thought. It was impractical and wouldn’t actually fix their problems.

“If you’re here for astronomical purposes, I guess you’re welcome to stay,” Velma said. “Do you want help setting up your equipment?”

“No, I need to do it myself. It’s not that you’re not competent, if I were incapacitated I’d want you handling my equipment, but a girl needs to assemble her own telescope,” Marcie explained apologetically. “I hope you understand.”

“I do.”

Marcie returned to her car and popped the trunk. She removed several containers and a small portable lantern, which she switched on to illuminate their immediate surroundings. It was a slick little powerhouse that still somehow managed to avoid ruining their night vision. Seeing it in action reminded Velma how much she missed her own headlamp, which had been destroyed chasing a dapper werewolf ghost. The lantern, along with the rest of Marcie’s equipment, ended up on the grass half a dozen feet from Velma’s set up.

Marcie’s movements as she prepared her telescope were smoothly assured in a way that could only be gained through repetition. She seemed unbothered by her audience, which was a little surprising, as Velma knew she’d feel a flustered if their situations were reversed and she was undergoing her scrutiny. Marcie’s telescope was a different model than Velma’s serviceable workhorse. It was one she would have been happy to get if she had had the cash to spare, but the improvements hadn’t been enough to justify the additional expense. That didn’t alter the fact Velma would love the chance to play with one, even just for a night.

Not that she would ever tell Marcie that. She had already made her feelings about sharing markedly clear. Velma was too proud to beg for something that had already been denied her, especially by Marcie Fleach of all people. Still her hands itched as she watched Marcie adjust her focus.

“Well, we’ve got a great view of the moon,” Marcie said, pointing at the waxing crescent, “but I don’t like the increased cloud cover.”

Velma frowned up at the sky. It was significantly cloudier than it had been when she set up her own equipment. That didn’t bode well for their evening plans. Neither of them suggested packing up or going home. Instead, Marcie made an offhand comment about a rover, which led to an engaging discussion on the challenges of terraforming. Velma was surprised to hear herself offer to loan Marcie a few periodicals with provoking articles on the subject. She hadn’t expected Marcie to accept nor the smile that stretched across her face. The only reason for that expression had to be because she loved sharing knowledge.

Luckily, before Velma could mull over the smile any more she caught sight of her first meteor of the night. Shooting to her feet she laughed and pointed at the sky. Both women moved to their respective telescopes to observe. Velma gleefully watched several space rocks burn brilliant white trails through the atmosphere before picking up her journal to record her initial observations. As she did so several fat raindrops splattered against the paper. Moments later lightning streaked across the sky followed by the crash of thunder.

“Shit,” Marcie swore.

“We can still see the meteor shower,” Velma protested even as she snapped her journal shut and began to pack. In short order the droplets became a cascade. Velma was glad she hadn’t tarried in packing up her telescope. However, she had no idea how she was getting it off this hilltop as the storm worsened.

“Put your gear in here!” Marcie shouted over the storm as she gestured at her open trunk. “We’ll sort it out later!”

“How do I know you won’t try to steal my research?” Velma demanded, recognizing the absurdity of her question the moment it left her mouth.

“Like I’d want your second rate work, Dinkley,” Marcie snorted, which was an equally ridiculous statement because Dinkley was second to none, but it got Velma to throw her things in with Marcie’s.

They were both dripping like wet dogs when they got into Marcie’s car. Velma idly wondered how much she’d regret leaving her bike out here until tomorrow. At the moment she found she didn’t much care if it meant Marcie would give her a ride home right now.

“There’s a diner at the bottom of the hill. You should be able to make it there on your bike,” Marcie said. “I’ll meet you there and we’ll wait until either the rain clears or someone can give you a ride home.”

“You’re not giving me a ride?” Velma asked. Normally she wouldn’t ask, but it was torrential outside.

“I would, but I’ve only had my license for eleven months,” Marcie said. “I’m not in the habit of breaking the law and if I was caught with you in the car, I doubt Sheriff Stone would turn a blind eye toward it the way he would for Fred Jones.”

Velma felt a pit form in her stomach. Marcie was right and she couldn’t argue with any of her statement. She just really didn’t want to go out into the storm again. She sighed as she opened the door then made a mad dash for her bike. No matter what she did Velma was going to end up soaked, but the less time in the rain the better. Sadly, current conditions were too hazardous for her to safely ride, so Velma walked to the diner. To her surprise Marcie kept pace, driving slowly behind her, lighting the way for both of them.

When they reached the restaurant Velma paused only to rest her bike under the roof’s overhang before going inside. Marcie followed her, significantly less wet. The diner was nearly empty, but their entrance barely attracted a glance from the lone waitress. They slipped into opposite sides of a vinyl-covered booth.

“I’m mad at you,” Velma said, breaking the silence. She focused on keeping her tone even to ensure the message got through. ”I don’t care that you’re technically right about it being illegal. You shouldn’t have made me walk through that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m covered in mud. I fell twice, Fleach.”

“I saw.”

“I think I skinned my knee.”

“I have a first aid kit in the car. Do you want me to get it?” Marcie offered.

Velma looked down at her knee. It was red and raw, but not actively bleeding anymore. The rain had washed most of the mud off it. She shook her head. It wasn’t worth it, especially when she knew she’d redo whatever field treatment they did here as soon as she got home. Velma pulled out her phone and prayed the case was as water resistant as it claimed to be. Luckily, the screen lit up when she tried to wake it. Velma made a quick call home. Once he was aware that she was in a safe place, but still needed a ride home Dale promised to be there in thirty to forty minutes.

“So I’ve got an hour to kill,” Velma said as she finished relaying the conversation. Her father was never punctual.

“I ordered you coffee,” Marcie said timidly. “Or would you have preferred tea? You need something hot to warm up with after your walk. In fact, order whatever you want on me.”

“You’re lucky I’m not Scooby or Shaggy,” Velma said, leaning her chin on her fist.

“You’re right about that,” Marcie grinned. Velma felt the corners of her mouth curl up as well.

“You ladies ready to order?” the waitress asked, setting down two mugs and filling them with coffee. She tapped the stack of unopened menus on the tabletop. “Or do you need more time?”

“Do you have a big greasy cheeseburger with bacon, pickles, and tomatoes on your menu?” Velma asked. She had eaten a full dinner earlier, but she was hungry now and cold. The air conditioning wasn’t helping either.

“Do you want fries with that?”

“Please.”

“And for you?” she asked, turning toward Marcie.

“Do you have any crustless pie?”

“This is a diner.”

“Right,” Marcie sighed. She scanned the menu. “I’ll take the chicken tenders.”

“Got it.” With that the waitress sashayed away.

“I always forget you’re gluten intolerant,” Velma said. “I’m surprised they don’t have more options on their menu for you.”

“They probably do, but I’m not in the mood to pour over the whole thing and I can’t bear the thought of another salad right now, so I’m going with the chicken tenders,” Marcie said. She watched Velma sip her coffee. “On a scale of 1 to 10 how mad are you at me now?”

“When we arrived I’d say a nine, but now… hmm, maybe a six. A lot of my anger usually burns off immediately after the initial ignition,” Velma said. “We’ll see how I feel after I eat and if I need to plan any long term revenge schemes.”

“Great.”

“You know the likelihood of running into a cop between here and the hilltop was astronomically low. Stone’s crew refuses to go out in bad weather.”

“Yeah, I know,” Marcie sighed, “but I couldn’t take that risk. An arrest ruins any chance of a scholarship for me.”

Velma got that. She wasn’t in quite the same situation, as she had a number of trespassing arrests on her own record, but scholarships were her best bet on affording college as well. “Look on the bright side, this is a linear anger scale, not an exponential or logarithmic one.”

That earned her another smile. Velma was kind of surprised by how many times Marcie had smiled at her today, her usual smile to scowl rate was way out of its normal ratio. Not that she kept track of it or anything. That would be weird.

Their food arrived and neither spoke as they ate. Velma had a feeling they were both running low on energy for social niceties. The storm had taken a lot out of her in ways she hadn’t expected and she imagined the same was true for Marcie. Even with the food she was still feeling cold. All Velma really wanted to do was go home, shower, and get to bed. Neither of them ordered dessert. When Marcie paid the bill Velma silently approved of the appropriately sized tip she added.

“I haven’t seen the rest of the gang lately. Did they ditch you for the summer?” Marcie asked without preamble.

“They didn’t ditch me,” Velma bristled. Marcie flinched. “Fred’s got intensive trap camp this year, and Shaggy’s folks hate having him and Scooby in the house, so they ship them off every summer. As for Daphne, she offered to let me come with, but my parents said she didn’t give us enough notice and refused to rush a passport for me. I was not ditched.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“If you weren’t trying to insult me, what did you mean?”

“If you’re going to be on your own for most of the summer and I’m typically alone,” Marcie began, laying a hand next to Velma’s on the table, “maybe we could be alone together? Hang out I mean. We could experiment.”

A car honked. Velma looked out the window. “That’s my dad,” she said, getting to her feet.

“I have a lab,” Marcie said.

“I’d expect nothing less from you,” Velma said. “Can you pop your trunk so I can get my gear?”

“Think about it. Please?” Marcie said as she did as bidden. Velma hauled her bags out of Marcie’s trunk in the pouring rain. “Velma?”

“I will,” Velma promised. “Now get in your car before you wash away. Who expects this sort of rain in the summer?”

Once she had all her things she tossed them in the backseat of Dale’s car. Thankfully, while she had been securing her astronomy equipment her father had strapped her bike onto their rack so she didn’t need to do that as well. It was a relief to get in his car and know that they were going home.

“Ready to go, Pumpkin?” Dale asked, handing her a towel.

“Yes,” Velma said. She rubbed the towel over her face and hair. It wasn’t much, but she already felt drier than she had been in the diner.

“Who was your friend?”

“Who?” Velma blinked owlishly at her father.

“The girl you were with just now? The one who had your things in her trunk?”

“Oh that.” Velma almost laughed. She had never considered her that before. Well, maybe that was about to change—it certainly sounded like that’s what she wanted. “That was Marcie. Marcie Fleach.”

“Your science fair rival?”

“Yeah. And maybe now also my… friend.”

Chapter Text

Velma crumpled the letter a little as she jammed it into her pocket. That wasn’t intentional, haste simply made her a little careless. She wanted to get out of the house as quickly as possible so that she could read her correspondence without interference. After catching her mother steaming open a letter one Saturday some months ago Velma had been somewhat paranoid about allowing her mail to sit unattended. It was bad enough that Angie insisted on sticking her noise in Velma’s private affairs—they weren’t even that interesting—but the final straw had been her finding out before Velma even knew.

These days she kept her private logs in a locked box off Dinkley property and used the blog Angie knew about as a blind to keep her off the scent of Velma’s real secrets. Or she would if she had any secrets worth keeping. The point was she couldn’t read Daphne’s latest letter at home if she didn’t want it to be the topic of tonight’s dinner conversation. That meant finding somewhere else to read it.

Today that somewhere else happened to be Fruitmeirs. She had a hankering for something cool, sweet, and possibly radioactive. Velma blamed the craving on Shaggy and Scooby’s prolonged absence. Normally there was enough sugar, salt, and fat in the air of the Mystery Machine that riding in it was like eating an afternoon snack, but it had been weeks since she had last ridden with the gang. She missed all of them. Maybe if Velma got trapped in a supply closet while reading and eating it would be like she wasn’t alone after all.

Velma snorted at the thought and made her way to the service counter. While she knew most of the faces around town, she was surprised to spot this particular one behind the counter.

“Since when do you work at Fruitmeirs, Marcie?” Velma asked. “Don’t you have enough to do at Creepy Spooky Terror Land?”

“You know you could just call it the park. Saves on syllables, as there isn’t another amusement park within a three hour drive,” Marcie said. “Dad made sure of that.”

“My point is, why aren’t you working at the family business?” Velma asked, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, I still do, mostly nights and weekends,” Marcie said. “This is just a summer gig that gets me out of a mascot suit and into air conditioning. Did I mention how great it is to not have my dad as my boss here?”

“Okay, I can relate,” Velma laughed.

“So without further ado, welcome to Fruitmeirs. Would you like to try out new flavor, blue?”

“Blue isn’t a flavor.”

“It is here.” Marcie held up a pint container of Fruitmeir that proudly stated it was blue flavor. The jelly-like substance was royal blue in color and almost seemed to glow, just like the original variety.

“I think I’ll stick with the original green.”

“Oh so blue isn’t a flavor, but green is?”

“It’s not green flavored, it’s Fruitmeir flavored.”

“Touché.

“Can I get a medium?”

“That’ll be $5.95.”

Velma paid then watched Marcie don plastic gloves to serve up her treat. It was always interesting watching anyone handle Fruitmeirs because she couldn’t actually determine the composition of the substance. It seemed to be a mixture of ice cream and gelatin, but developed more and more jolly rancher like properties as it aged. Also, it was distressingly addictive, especially as Velma had yet to run into any two people who described its taste and texture the same way. She had made a point to read what she could about the FDA testing of Fruitmeirs, barring trade secrets of course, and checked for the most recent health inspector report before becoming a regular customer.

“And here you are,” Marcie said, setting Velma’s dish of Fruitmeirs in front of her. Velma blinked in surprise, dispelling her latest plans to chemically analyze the treat.

“This is a large,” Velma said in surprise.

“Is it?” Marcie asked. She smirked. “I’m pretty new here and still getting used to sizing proportions correctly. If there’s a problem I can take some off or make you a new medium?”

“This is fine. Thanks.” Velma threw a dollar in the tip jar then picked up her snack.

She carried it to one of the bright red plastic tables along the storefront window. It was a corner seat, which gave her an excellent view of the shop, Main Street, and no one could sneak up behind her. Exactly the sort of seat Velma preferred. After tasting her Fruitmeirs—sweet, semi solid, cold, chemical, delicious—it was time to open Daphne’s letter.

Velma huffed in amusement as pages of lavender stationary covered in purple prose spilled out. In Daphne’s case that was literal for content and coloration. Truth be told, Velma wished her friend was a little less flowery in her description of Parisian fashion, the details of which bored her, but she loved getting the letters. She knew Daphne didn’t offer this level of detailed correspondence to anyone else. Not even Fred. Which was why she dutifully read every word, even the boring sections, and mulled them over carefully before crafting her response.

“What are you working on?” Marcie asked sometime later after Velma had read Daphne’s letter twice and was determining the topics that needed response.

“My social life,” Velma responded, without looking up. She felt the table shake as Marcie sat down across from her.

“You have a lot of pen pals?”

“Naw, just Daphne,” Velma said. She shoved the letter and her notes back into her pocket. She could work on that later. “What’s up?”

“You never called me,” Marcie said flatly.

“Was I supposed to? Because that would imply that I had your number.”

“You don’t have my number? But we both went to computer camp last summer. Everyone exchanged numbers there!”

“And I blocked every one from computer camp after the fact.”

“Why?”

“Because I kept getting offers to come over and check out special equipment from the likes of Gibby Norton and Jason Wyatt,” Velma explained, waggling her eyebrows. “Boys get so upset when I explain I’m not interested in microscopes.”

“Eww.”

“That’s the burden of the alpha nerd,” Velma sighed. She took a bite of her Fruitmeirs. “You get all the unwanted lesser nerd attention.

“Am I a lesser nerd?”

“You placed yourself in that category, not me, Fleach,” Velma grinned.

Marcie rolled her eyes. “Do you want my number or not?”

“What the heck, why not?”

“You’re awfully cocky, Dinkley.”

“I’m competent. There’s a difference.”

“And you’re both,” Marcie insisted. Still, she scribbled her phone number on a napkin and handed it over. Velma pocketed it. She then picked up a loose spoon and scooped off a chunk of Velma’s Fruitmeirs, which earned her a raised eyebrow, but Velma didn’t say anything. It didn’t make sense, but Velma felt a lot happier than she had when she walked into the restaurant. Perhaps it was a sugar rush or was she really enjoying snarking with Marcie?

“Hey, are you on break?” Velma asked. Marcie nodded. “What time does your shift end? Do you want to do something after?”

“I get off at five,” Marcie said. She looked down at her nails. “I suppose I could be persuaded, but I’ll have to check my calendar to see if I’m actually free.”

“Hey, if you have to work, you have to work. I get that,” Velma said. “I’m stuck on tour guide duty three days a week and semi frequently watch the gift shop without warning. We can plan to do something another time.”

“What? No, I was yanking your chain. I’m free after this. I just wanted you to sound like you actually wanted to hang out, Velma.”

“If I wasn’t interested, I wouldn't have offered.”

Marcie smiled at that. She checked her phone then rose from her seat. “My break’s over. Why don’t you spend the rest of my shift deciding where you’re taking me?”

“Oh, now I’m taking you instead of us simply going together?”

“Yes, because you invited me.”

“Fine,” Velma agreed, but she wasn’t mad about it.

By the time Marcie was allowed to take off her apron uniform Velma knew where she was taking her. She just hoped she liked it. She was also feeling a touch dramatic, so when Marcie asked her where they were going Velma simply smiled and insisted it was a surprise.

“This had better not be something hokey, like you’re taking me to the Clam Cabin,” Marcie grumbled. She bumped her shoulder into Velma’s.

“You got a problem with the Clam Cabin?” Velma asked, raising an eyebrow. She personally wasn’t a fan, but was willing to go there if other people did.

“It has its time and place, but I want something nicer than that right now.”

“Will this do?” Velma asked, gesturing at a glass building. They had reached their destination. “Or are the Crystal Cove Botanical Gardens too blasé for you as well?”

“Oh Velma, this is perfect,” Marcie said, grabbing her arm.

That seemed like an overreaction to Velma. It was just the botanical gardens, a public attraction in town with a modest entry fee—or free if you held a membership likes the Dinkleys did—that was open almost every day of the year. Velma liked them a lot though and often visited whenever she didn’t mind being in a hot and humid environment. She had gotten a lot of botany specimens from them over the years and made friends with half the staff. She got why she might get excited about the gardens, but didn’t understand why Marcie would be at that level as well.

Velma got them in, despite staff warning them they had less than two hours before they closed. That didn’t matter with a membership the way it would for paid tickets. She took Marcie straight to the orchid room. It wasn’t her favorite, far from it, but everyone else went gaga for them.

Colored petals greeted them at every turn, the telltale strings of racemose inflorescences trailing from every plant tucked into its own specific alcove along the walls. Of course they only showcased the best and brightest of the collection—Orchidaceae was one of the largest plant families in the world with over 28,000 recognized species, many of which did not have particularly attractive floral displays—to catch the public’s eye. That had bothered Velma when she was younger, as she had wanted to see rare orchids, but she could understand the gardeners’ choices. Especially right now as she watched Marcie marvel at the display.

“They’re crammed so many plants in here,” Marcie breathed as she examined a particularly vivid flower. Frankly Velma thought the plant was showing off by having a purple lined labellum while the rest of the petals and sepals were a yellowish green mottled with maroon, but that was zygopetalum maculatum for you.

“That’s because orchids like cramped spaces. They thrive on it if the soil remains nutritious,” Velma explained. “Unlike the bromeliads, who prefer a little breathing room. Some of these species will stab you to get it.”

“Do you prefer bromeliads?”

“I guess? In my opinion they have striking forms and generally more vibrant colors without being ostentatious like the orchids. Plus who doesn’t like pineapple?”

“Show me?”

Velma did. The bromeliad collection here was substantial, but only a small selection was ever kept on display for public viewing in part of the rainforest section. At least everything on display was in bloom. She had fun sharing everything she knew about the exhibited varieties. Marcie seemed to enjoy the lecture, even when they both caught their hair on the spines of a particularly aggressive Dyckia.

After that Velma brought Marcie to her favorite area in the botanical garden, the water gardens. The main garden consisted primarily of a large pond. Despite the artistically small waterfall at one end, the surface of the water was smooth and reflective where it wasn’t covered with lotuses and lilies. Seeing it always gave Velma a sense of tranquility. She had happily taken dozens of photos of the pond, especially from the angle that made the red Japanese styled bridge into a perfect circle with its reflection. Most of the plants surrounding the pond were East Asian in origin and carefully tended in traditional methods. By following meandering footpaths one could reach other ponds decorated in different cultural styles, but this was Velma’s favorite.

“Jinkies, we’re in luck,” Velma said, waving an arm toward the garden. “This is the first time I’ve seen it empty at this hour. Usually you have to come here first thing in the morning if you want some peace and quiet in the water gardens.”

“This is beautiful.” Marcie squatted down by the pond and reached out to gently run a finger along the top of a nearby plant. She gasped. “This is as soft as a baby bunny!”

“Isn’t it great?” Velma grinned as she joined her to examine the plant. She also gently stroked the foliage. “Water cabbage, which is what we’ve got here, is covered in fine hairs that trap air in little pockets along the plant’s surface to increase buoyancy. This is different from the water lilies, which form large broad leaves to stay afloat. Others make air pockets inside the plant to beat surface tension.”

“I hadn’t realized there was so much diversity to accomplish the same goal. There’s usually only one or two ways to accomplish something in chemistry, everything else is just window dressing—I mean, an alcohol is an alcohol is an alcohol no matter what the rest of the structure is.”

“That’s convergent evolution in action, baby. Each of these species is working with their own specific genetic history to survive and propagate. They accomplish that by making do with what they’ve got,” Velma sighed happily. “I know I’m anthropomorphizing them by implying there’s conscious decision making going on, only the gardeners are doing that, but I find it more impressive they’re able to just do this randomly with natural selection as the only guide.”

“You’re more passionate about botany than I had imagined.”

“You should hear me when I get going about coevolution or when these guys start adding in extra chromosomes.”

“Oh?” From the smirk and raised eyebrow Velma knew Marcie was egging her on. Who was she to refuse?

“Animals can’t really handle gaining or losing chromosomes. Down syndrome occurs when there’s a single additional chromosome 21 in humans and causes a host of effects. Many chromosome reductions result in a pregnancy being unable to carry to term. Plants have a lot of difficulty with chromosome subtraction as well, but additions? They don’t care! Double their entire genetic code and they’ll grow and reproduce just fine. Might result in a new species, but that’s not a big deal to them.”

“Now I can get behind discussing genetics. That makes sense to me,” Marcie said. She was leaning her head on her fist as she smiled gently at Velma.

Something about the way she was looking at her made Velma’s stomach feel funny. It was tightening like she had anxiety, but she otherwise felt fine. In fact, this was the most comfortable she had ever felt around Marcie. So she wasn’t certain what was off, other than that Marcie was reminding her of Shaggy at the moment, oddly enough, and Velma had never associated them before. She’d have to ponder what the connection was later. Right now she had to say something witty in response.

“You sure?” Velma teased. She lifted up a pond leaf revealing the slimy underbelly. “Genetics is still biology and you’ve always complained it’s too messy for you to bother with.”

Marcie poked the mucus trail with a finger then collected a sample in a glass vial. “I can handle a little mess. With you. For science.”

“For science.”

They briefly shared another smile before Velma decided to show Marcie the rest of the water gardens. As they walked around Velma continued to share her botanical knowledge. She was pleased by Marcie’s visible interest and even more so by the questions she asked. They were reasonably thought out and highlighted her different scientific background. Most she could easily answer, but a few had her stumped and she promised to look up the answers later on JSTOR. In one case she was confident they could run an experiment to determine the answer themselves.

As they continued their stroll there was one thing that bothered Velma. She hadn’t noticed at first, but there seemed to be something off with Marcie’s balance or perhaps her depth perception. At least, that was what Velma surmised as Marcie kept bumping into her, even though the path was level and dry today. Sometimes it was a shoulder or elbow, but most often her hands kept brushing against Velma’s hand or forearm. It wasn’t exactly annoying, however it was distracting enough to cause her to lose her train of thought. Rather than draw attention to her odd behavior and make Marie self conscious, things were still too easy to be misunderstood between them, Velma decided to ignore it.

When the announcement that the botanical gardens were closing came Velma felt a pang of sadness. She hadn’t expected to have this much fun with Marcie and she didn’t want it to end. Her companion expressed similar sentiments, which made her feel a little better. She wasn’t imagining things. They made their way to the exit in a quiet and orderly fashion before loitering outside. Neither one was quite ready to say goodnight.

“I’d invite you over, but Mom would put you through a two hour minimum interrogation,” Velma said.

“We wouldn’t have that problem at my place. Dad never pays attention to what I do,” Marcie said bitterly. She perked up after a moment. “Just give me three more weeks and then I can drive you anywhere you want!”

“Anywhere, huh?” Velma asked. Marcie nodded. “What if I wanted to go to the Hockey Hall of Fame in Toronto?”

Marcie blanched and Velma burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding! I wouldn’t subject you to that sort of road trip,” Velma said. “Dad promised to take me when we visit this winter and if that falls through, I’m sure the gang and I will make it there sooner or later.”

“Do you have any reasonable requests?” Marcie asked, “or are you just planning on teasing me all night?”

“I don’t know, jinkies, you’re putting me on the spot here. I feel a little awkward demanding you take me anywhere. Where do you want to take me? I planned this outing, at your insistence I might add, isn’t it now your turn?”

Marcie opened and shut her mouth, “That’s unfair of you to ask, I don’t go anywhere. Compared to me you’re a globetrotter with wanderlust! All I can think of is the park or my lab, which is located in the maintenance area of the park. As much as I want to show you my lab and the electrophoresis I jerry-rigged out of a car battery and some parts off eBay, I don’t want to come off like one of those gross boys begging to show you their special equipment.”

“Marcie, I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” Velma sighed. She took Marcie’s hands in her own and made eye contact. “You are not gross. I have always respected you as a rival and I hope we’re growing into esteemed colleagues. If you want to show me your lab, I would love to see it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Fantastic!” Marcie beamed.

Velma let go of her hands and adjusted her glasses. Her stomach did a flip flop this time. She had to be getting sick because this was not normal. Especially not around Marcie. She realized Marcie was babbling, mostly about her lab. Velma should really pay attention to what she’s saying.

“You don’t have to wait until I can drive to visit. If I’m not at Fruitmeirs I’m at home or the park. I really can’t wait,” Marcie said. She squeezed Velma’s shoulder. “I just started some experiments on some of the old ride equipment and I think you’d be interested in it, V. Can I call you V?”

“Sure,” Velma shrugged. She’d never had a nickname and as far as nicknames went this one sounded good.

“Cool.” Marcie seemed to have run out of things to say. She fidgeted then asked. “Are you sure there isn’t any place I can take you once I’m allowed?”

“I’ve always been interested in visiting the Burlington Library. I think you’d like that as well,” Velma admitted. “However, that’s an August plan at the earliest. It’s my understanding that trips there have a habit of turning into overnight stays and I don’t think our relationship has progressed to the point we wouldn’t try to kill each other if we were trapped together for that long.”

“Oh true,” Marcie agreed, frowning. “August then?”

“August tentatively.”

“I’ll take a tentative August over absolutely not any day,” Marcie said. Velma did not find her remotely charming, but she bit her tongue instead of saying so because she had a feeling Marcie would think she was protesting too much. “I’ll text you when I get home?”

“Sure, if you want,” Velma shrugged. “Not like I’ve got any plans beyond finishing Daphne’s letter. I’ll even unblock your number.”

“Cool.”

They stood around for a little longer before making their way back to Fruitmeirs. It was a silent walk, as both girls had run out of social graces for the day. Once Velma was on her bike she got halfway through waving Marcie goodbye before realizing how stupid she must look doing that and cut off the gesture. Before she could see Marcie’s reaction Velma took off peddling for home.

“You are so late, young lady, you missed dinner,” Angie greeted her when Velma got home.

“Sorry, I’ll make a plate out of leftovers or a sandwich,” Velma said. “I lost track of time hanging out with a friend.”

“A friend? Who?” Angie asked, all anger and worry totally forgotten the moment Velma used the F word.

“Just a friend. My social circle doesn’t consist solely of the gang,” Velma said. Admittedly, until Marcie’s recent category change, the only person outside of the gang that Velma considered a friend who also lived in the state was Angel and they didn’t exactly hang out.

“Well, maybe the next time you and your friend get together you should do it here so I don’t worry.”

“If you were really that concerned you should have texted,” Velma said, getting out her phone. Huh, she had missed three texts from her mom. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gone hours without checking her phone. Velma must have been more engrossed than she had thought. “Or called when I didn’t answer. I know you know my location at any given moment.”

“Don’t worry us like that again, Velma,” Angie said. She brushed a hand across Velma’s forehead. “I know you think you’re all grown up, but you’re still our baby girl. We worry.”

“I know and I’m sorry,” Velma sighed.

With that acknowledgement Velma was allowed to escape to the kitchen. She fixed herself a plate of leftovers. As they heated in the microwave she unblocked Marcie’s phone number before she forgot and upset her friend again. After the microwave dinged she retreated to her room. Velma wasn’t exactly ready to give her mom the blow by blow of her day. As she bounced onto her bed she heard something crinkle in her pocket. Belatedly, she remembered Daphne’s letter. It was never supposed to reenter the house, but it was too late to do anything about that now.

A quick appraisal after she retrieved it determined the letter would be fine if it spent some time pressed under a stack of textbooks. Her initial response was salvageable as well. Velma tapped her letter and frowned. While the contents of the draft were good and she did want to write about them, they were no longer what she wanted to focus on in her next missive.

She pulled out a clean sheet of stationary and decided to just write whatever came to mind. That was how Daphne normally operated. Velma was sure she’d appreciate the odd letter in the same format. Before she knew it Velma had filled three sheets talking about Marcie and her most recent encounters with her. It was weird, but Velma felt better after jotting everything down, put things into perspective. She scanned her original draft and rewrote an abbreviated version of events to add another double-sided sheet to her correspondence. That was mainly to show Daphne she had read her last letter.

Her phone dinged with a text from Marcie. It consisted of a note saying she had gotten home safely and a gif of science cat. She watched it replay three times before responding. Immediately, Marcie replied and Velma realized she’d have to give her phone her full attention if she wanted to keep up. She quickly scrawled a goodbye with signature to her letter before sealing and addressing it. She’d post it in the morning before her mom could get ahold of it. Then she spent the next hour laughing as she texted Marcie.

When she went to bed that night Velma fell asleep thinking about Marcie. One of her last conscious thoughts was wondering if she did the same.

Chapter Text

The first thing Velma always did when she woke up was put on her glasses. When she was younger she used to sleep in them, much to her mother’s consternation, because she wanted to be able to see immediately. Angie always worried that sleeping in them would cause the frames to bend and warp in her sleep, possibly injuring Velma. After a yeti induced sledding accident crashed her face first into a brick wall and caused zero damage to her glasses—which was not the case for her face, a nasty goose egg formed above her right eye that took several days to recede—Velma totally wrote off those concerns. However, as she had aged she found sleeping in her glasses to be far less comfortable than it used to be and now took them off when she went to bed.

The second thing she did was check her phone to see what Marcie had sent her while she slept. These days there was always something weird and delightful waiting for her purview. Often it was an obscure article or a weird animal photo related to whatever Velma had expounded upon the night before, presumably to show that Marcie had been paying attention. It had taken a week or two to realize this, but Marcie always listened when Velma talked. It was incredibly flattering to her and she did it without being asked. Other times Marcie sent gifs or memes that had Velma in stitches before she had even gotten out of bed. Once it was simply a wall of text where she narrated her process running a late night experiment. That was Velma’s favorite, as it showcased the way Marcie’s brain dissected a problem. If it reminded her of that little voice in the back of her own head that was no one else’s business.

Today she got a photo of Creepy Spooky Terror Land from a high angle. It was almost an aerial view, but still too close to the ground to have come from a plane or helicopter. Velma vaguely wondered if it had come from the top of a roller coaster or if Marcie had built a drone and was testing out its capabilities. In any case it was the most boring thing she had received, but it still made Velma smile. After all, it meant Marcie was thinking about her.

She set her phone back down and in a flurry of activity prepared for the day. Once she came down the stairs Velma headed into the kitchen and fixed a bowl of cereal. Her parents were still seated at the table, which meant it was earlier than she had thought, since they opened the spook museum bright and early on weekends. She grimaced slightly, knowing she’d be stuck having to dust the displayed costumes again in the near future. Hopefully not today.

“Pumpkin, can you do us a favor?” Dale asked, setting down the newspaper the moment she had taken a seat. That wasn’t good. Her father never set down the paper until breakfast was over.

“What do you want me to do now?” Velma sighed. She lifted some of her cereal with her spoon, and let the milk drain out before dropping it back into her bowl. The meal was less appetizing than it had been moments earlier. She wished her parents would let her have breakfast in peace before springing commitments.

“My friend Dr. Williams, from my men’s club, needs a babysitter today. His usual one is out of town at the moment and he could really use someone to watch his boys,” Dale explained. “He and Captain Murphy would greatly appreciate the favor.”

“This is way too short notice. Boys? How many and how old are they?” Velma asked. “Why would you even suggest me? You know I’m not good with kids.”

“Ah, but if you watch the boys we’ve been promised a giant squid corpse for the museum,” Angie said. “Think of all we can do with that, sweetie, it would be a great tourist attraction.”

“Then why don’t you do it?”

“Because we have to work.”

“I already have plans today.”

“Which are?”

“To go to Creepy Spooky Terror Land,” Velma mumbled. This morning’s text had reminded her she still hadn’t taken Marcie up on her offer to visit her park and lab, despite seeing her several more times at Fruitmeirs.

“Why that’s perfect!” Angie exclaimed. “Tom and Tub are at just the right age to love amusement parks. They shouldn’t be that much of a hassle, Velma, my understanding is that they’re fairly self sufficient.”

“Then why do they need me at all?” Velma snapped.

“Because the boys need to spend more time in civilization before they start middle school this fall and they need help acclimatizing,” Dale explained. “Please Pumpkin, it would mean a lot to us if you did this.”

“And think about the giant squid corpse,” Angie added. “I know you’d love to get your hands on one of those.”

“If I do this, you owe me a major favor on top of a decent salary and access to the squid,” Velma sighed. “Also, I’m going to need a lot of spending money if I’m taking two tweens to an amusement park.”

Surprisingly, her last condition was the easiest to fulfill, as Dr. Williams shoved a stack of bills into Velma’s hands before hopping onboard beside Captain Murphy. Both men frantically waved at their sons, but Velma noticed their departure wasn’t delayed in the slightest as they set sail. They didn’t even bother to exchange phone numbers with her. She turned to the boys, who were still standing at the end of the dock, and tried to smile at them. It wasn’t a great smile.

“So, who’s ready for Creepy Spooky Terror Land?” Velma asked.

Both boys’ hands shot straight up into the air as they started shouting “Me! Me!” It was forceful enough to cause Velma to take a step back, but at least they seemed willing to follow her lead. She’d definitely need to do what she could to keep them on her side.

One long bus ride to the park later and Velma had a much better grasp of the situation. The short brown haired boy was Tom, while the larger blond boy was Tub. Both boys were bright, hyperactive, athletic children who were under the impression that this was some sort of test and Velma would be grading their performance. She wasn’t sure what the test was supposed to be or why they were undergoing one, other than the fact it was apparently Tub’s birthday and they always had some sort of birthday challenge.

“Last year we had to get off a sinking ship and swim to shore!” Tub had announced in a voice loud enough for the entire bus to hear. He clearly had some voice modulating problems, likely a side effect of permanent swimmer’s ear. “We clutched driftwood and kicked for hours! It was the best!”

“I dunno, Tub, it’s hard to beat surviving on that desert island for my last birthday,” Tom said. He grinned at Velma. “We ate nothing but scorpions for a month.”

“That’s impressive,” Velma said. She really hoped he was exaggerating, but had a sinking feeling he wasn’t. Tom and Tub had unmistakably terrible fathers. At least they seemed happy and healthy? Maybe she’d try to discuss the situation with Marcie, since any time she had ever consulted adult authorities to fix something it was like pulling teeth to get assistance. She couldn’t imagine Child Protective Services would be any more helpful than Sherriff Stone.

“Right?” Before Tom could reveal any more childhood trauma disguised as adventure he suddenly plastered himself to the window. “Tub look!”

“It’s Creepy Spooky Terror Land!” Tub shouted after also pressing his face into the window. “We’re going there, right? Please, Velma, please?”

“That’s why we got on this bus,” Velma said. She snapped her fingers drawing the boys’ attention. “Three rules before we enter the park, which you’ve got to stick to. Can you handle that?”

“Of course,” Tom insisted. Tub nodded in agreement.

“Number one, you do what I tell you to. I don’t care what you were previously doing or if you don’t want to, you do it.”

“Okay.”

“Number two, unless I explicitly give you permission, you stay in my line of sight,” Velma continued. “For example, if you need to use the bathroom you let me know, we find one, and I’ll wait outside for you to finish.”

“Sure!”

“Number three, follow the rules on park signage. That also includes not climbing on the rides, especially along the rollercoaster tracks. I’m guessing they don’t explicitly mention that on their signage because they don’t expect anyone to try it, but not following the rules will get us kicked out. Got it?” Velma finished. Considering the boys had initially climbed onto the roof of the bus before she could drag them inside she felt it necessary to explicitly expand this rule.

“You can count on us,” Tom insisted. Both boys offered her salutes. Velma suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and returned it. She needed to keep these boys on her side until they weren’t her problem anymore.

“Great. Then we’ll get off this bus, purchase tickets together, and then decide which rides we want to go on first. Cool?”

Both boys agreed. Thankfully they didn’t cause any trouble in the admissions line and they even made it through their first ride without any trouble. Of course, they had initially chosen The Splash—which basically just dropped the lot of them in a pool of water, so they were now soaked—but Velma would take being somewhat damp over having lost her charges within the first ten minutes. The boys rode it twice more, while Velma stood outside of The Splash’s splash zone.

While she waited for them to finish Velma took a picture of the park and texted it to Marcie. Hopefully her friend would understand the message. Before Marcie could respond Velma had to put her phone away, as she had two very excited tweens shouting about what they wanted to ride next. Unless there were multiple names for the same ride, which was possible but unlikely, they wanted to go on different ones. Tom grabbed one elbow and started pulling her toward the carnival games, while Tub grabbed her other to pull in the opposite direction. All that was going to accomplish was give her joint pains.

“Hey, time out, both of you stop,” Velma said. To her delight, they immediately froze. She quickly extracted her arms from their grip. “You guys want to do different things and that’s fine. We'll get to them all! Probably, depending on how we go about doing them. Now it’s Tub’s birthday. Do we want to do what he wants first and then what you want, Tom, or else flip a coin to make all things equal?”

“Aww, sorry Tub, Velma’s right. It’s your birthday, we should do what you want to do,” Tom admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“But you always have such good ideas!” Tub insisted. “Maybe we should start with your thing!”

“So a coin flip, got it,” Velma said. She dug out her wallet for the Susan B Anthony coin she kept specifically for this sort of purpose in her wallet. “Tub, why don’t you call it? If you’re right, we’ll start with your activity, otherwise it’ll be Tom’s.”

“Sure!” Tub shouted.

“Okay,” Tom agreed.

Velma was about to flip the coin when she realized she wanted to make another point clear. “I am making the executive decision that wherever we start, we will move onto the interesting rides nearby, so we don’t waste half the day running back and forth through the park because they didn’t put the Ferris wheel next to The Nauseator. Of course, if we get low on time we’ll make a point to hit whichever major rides you still want to do that we haven’t gone on yet. Deal?”

With another chorus of agreement Velma flipped the coin.

“Heads!” Tub shouted. Velma caught the dollar coin and slapped it to the back of her hand. When she pulled her other hand away it revealed Susan’s dour visage. Tub grinned and pumped a fist into the air. “Yes!”

That was how they wound up starting the rest of their park experience at the back of the fairgrounds with the intent to work through the rides in a counterclockwise motion. Tub’s first choice was The Kraken, one of those octopus shaped rides that spun guests in circles as the whole ride revolved. It reminded Velma a little of the earth’s rotation around the sun, if it also included going up and down in space. The boys liked it as well, though they were a touch disappointed that it didn’t get them wet like the first ride had. Nor did the next several roller coasters, merry-go-round, or bouncy castle involve any water. Considering how much they laughed while trying each attraction Velma didn’t think that mattered.

“Can we try that one next?” Tom asked, tugging Velma toward a massive Persian temple, which had tracks wrapped around its upper layers. At the start of the entry line hung a sign reading “Menace of the Manticore” in bloody looking letters.

“Sure,” Velma shrugged. She didn’t remember this particular ride from her last visit to Creepy Spooky Terror Land, but that had been a few years ago. If Winslow Fleach were anything like his daughter, he’d be continually improving his work. She wouldn’t mind finding out what this one was like.

There was a significant line for this ride. Luckily Tom and Tub amused themselves with marine facts, most of which Velma knew, though there were a few she’d want to double check when she got home. Occasionally she threw in a fact of her own, much to the boys’ delight. Near the temple entrance there was a sign proclaiming that one had to be at least 48” to experience this attraction. The boys both cleared that requirement, but a mascotted manticore in an employee vest was in the process of turning a different family away when they arrived.

“Alright, stand up straight next to the sign to show the manticore you’re tall enough,” Velma ordered. Tub and Tom stood up straight against the sign to show that they cleared the minimum.

“Does the manticore eat anybody who’s too short?” Tub asked. “You know, if someone short snuck in?”

“Yes,” Velma said. “Manticores prefer prey under four feet in length. It’s easier for them to carry off for their young.”

“Velma?” the manticore half-shrieked, jerking upright. The voice was muffled from the costume, but Velma still recognized it.

“Mar-Manticore,” Velma hastily corrected, adjusting her glasses. She figured Marcie didn’t want to be outed as the person in the costume. “I wasn’t expecting you here. In that suit.”

“Oh this,” Marcie laughed ruefully as she gestured at the fur suit. “I’m one of the few employees who fit in this get up and Dad’s all gung ho about monsters in the park. So… here I am. A manticore.”

“We didn’t know you were friends with a manticore,” Tom breathed, eyes shining as he started to giggle.

“This is so cool!” Tub shouted.

“Is this how you knew they carry off moderately sized children?” Tom asked. “Have you seen it eat one?”

“I’ve seen her eat,” Velma said diplomatically.

“Would you try to eat us?” Tub demanded. The expression on his face suggested that he wanted her to try.

“I’m abstaining from child meat,” Marcie said. She turned to Velma. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? And who are these kids?”

“I sent you a text when we got here,” Velma protested. She pointed at the boys. “As for these two, it’s Tub’s birthday and Tom is his bosom bud. I’m babysitting them in exchange for a giant squid corpse.”

“Valid,” Marcie said, nodding approvingly. The motion was a little menacing looking due to the costume. She patted down her furry thighs before groaning. “I’ve been in the suit for three hours. I probably got your text and didn’t even feel it through all this padding.”

“Aren’t you overheating?”

“There’s a reason the manticore sticks to the shadows and judges visitors’ heights,” Marcie said grimly.

“So you’re an ambush predator?” Tom asked.

“Like a leopard!” Tub shouted.

“Besides the heat restrictions, I have limited mobility and visual acuity as a manticore,” Marcie continued, ignoring the boys. She gestured at the mouth of the temple. Why don’t you head inside? They’re about to load another car now.”

“Lead the way guys,” Velma grinned. They didn’t need to be told twice and dashed inside.

“Hey V, would it be cool if I joined you later?” Marcie asked. “My shift gets done in an hour.”

“Jinkies, of course. We’ll probably hit the food stands by then. Call me when you’re ready and we’ll meet up,” Velma promised before trotting into the temple. There was one more seat left next to Tom and Tub, which she slid into just before the safety restraints clicked into place. Another park employee came by and checked that the equipment had locked in place correctly. She glanced at her charges. “You ready?”

“Heck yeah!” Tub shouted. Tom echoed his sentiments just as the adrenaline thriller started the car along its tracks.

Velma’s prediction was accurate and an hour later the three were sitting at a picnic bench with a variety of food spread out before them. Nachos, churros, cotton candy, corn dogs, and mini-donuts littered the table. It wasn’t enough food to keep Scooby and Shaggy satisfied for more than an hour, but it was more than Velma imagined the three of them could eat. Tom and Tub made a valiant effort consuming it, as they fell upon the feast like they hadn’t eaten in days. Perhaps they hadn’t. Considering the poor parenting she had already observed she wouldn’t be shocked to learn no one had remembered to feed the boys.

“Wow, I take it you’re looking for a new Scooby and Shaggy,” Marcie said as she slid into the open spot on the bench beside Velma. “They look a little young to be mystery solving.”

“Scooby? That’s the name of our seal!” Tub announced.

“We left him at home on our submarine,” Tom added.

“Really? I didn’t know it was that popular of a name,” Velma said. In a quieter voice she added to Marcie, “I don’t even know where to begin with these two.”

“I suggest some milder rides, like the Ferris Wheel, for the next hour or so until they’ve digested,” Marcie suggested, grimacing. “I speak from experience when I say you do not want to see them ride the Corkscrew right after eating.”

“That’s a memory I can live without,” Velma agreed. She offered Marcie some cotton candy, which the other girl accepted. “Want to hang out with us? I can’t really give you any of the giant squid, since my parental units have already planned to abscond with most of it, but maybe we can come to an understanding? I have cotton candy.”

“Cotton candy bribes do nothing for me. I already have a lifetime supply of park food,” Marcie said flatly. That made sense; she was lined up to be the sole inheritor of the amusement park. Marcie bumped their shoulders together. “However, I would be delighted to spend the rest of the day with you.”

“Even though I’m babysitting?”

“That’s still better than my alternate options, which basically amount to work another shift or attend an aunt’s baby shower online.”

“Give me a moment to get over the excitement of being the best of your bad options,” Velma said. She pressed the back of her wrist to her forehead. “I’m sure I’ll recover shortly, but you can’t spring that sort of thing on a girl.”

“And for that performance I’m not getting you any free ice cream,” Marcie said, wagging a finger at Velma.

“Free ice cream?” Tom asked.

“I want ice cream too!” Tub added.

Marcie sighed, but she got them ice cream. Despite her earlier refusal, she also got some for Velma. She definitely smirked when Velma blinked at her offered cone in surprise. After lunch Marcie joined them for the rest of their adventure in the park. Velma quickly made the decision to never visit Creepy Spooky Terror Land again without Marcie, as she was able to lead them through all the shortcuts and skip some of the lines. The latter was definitely an abuse of power, but as Marcie pointed out, no one’s going to stop the owner’s kid for essentially creating herself a fast pass; especially when that kid also fixes half the rides on the premises.

“Doesn’t that sort of maintenance require an engineering degree?” Velma asked. “I mean, I don’t doubt you’re capable, but aren’t there state laws requiring that?”

“Eh, Dad’s got a degree and this is a family owned and operated business. So maybe?” Marcie shrugged. “I’m not allowed to design or install any rides on my own, but so far maintenance has been fair game. Our local inspectors haven’t had an issue with my work.”

“Ah,” Velma said. An alarm on her phone went off. She pulled it out of her pocket, checked to see what the alarm was about, and then turned it off. “Sorry guys, that’s our fifteen minute warning. We need to start making our way out of the park.”

“No,” Tub whined.

“Can’t we stay longer?” Tom pleaded.

“I’ve got to return you to your dads by six and if we don’t catch this bus we’ll be late. That’s an automatic failure in my book,” Velma said, shaking her head. Tweens weren’t cute enough to risk losing out on a giant squid corpse, even if she was only getting to keep one tentacle.

“You could probably stay a little longer if I were to drive you guys. I’m a much better option than the bus,” Marcie said. She smiled at Velma. “I’ve had my license for a year now, I can take passengers.”

“Are you offering because you want to kidnap me to your secret lab?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’m game.” Velma adjusted her glasses because Marcie gave her a bright smile. She wondered if there were any clip-on sunglasses she could get that would fit her current frames. She’d need them if Marcie kept grinning at her like that.

Of course the boys protested leaving even after an extra twenty minutes in the park. However, Velma held firm and with a lot of help from Marcie she had them back at the docks by 5:58pm. Their fathers didn’t show for another half hour, but they did arrive bearing a giant squid. Once hostage negotiations were complete Velma was in possession of another stack of cash and a dead cephalopod. Luckily, her own father showed up with a trailer hitched to the back of the family station wagon. The moment he said he could handle the squid from here Velma grabbed Marcie’s hand and fled. She wasn’t a fashion maven like Daphne, but Velma liked the clothes she was wearing too much to permanently ruin them with squid entrails—especially if they accidentally pierced the ink sac.

Upon returning to the park Marcie parked in an employee lot and led Velma into the fenced off maintenance area. Eventually they stopped in front of a decrepit warehouse that appeared identical to the surrounding buildings. Marcie unlocked the door and pushed it open, offering Velma the chance to enter first. She took it, striding into Marcie’s space as far as the outside light reached. Then Marcie flipped on the lights and Velma could see everything.

The interior of the lab was as industrial as the exterior. It was clear Marcie had a lot of space in here that she could fill with whatever she wanted. So it didn't surprise Velma to realize the lab proper only extended a third of the way into the warehouse, while the rest of the space held unsteady stacks of twisted metal that appeared to be parts of old rides. The lab proper held a decent amount of equipment that Velma would expect to find in any standard generalized laboratory space. Based solely on the wear and tear of the fume hood in the corner she guessed Marcie was continuing to pursue chemistry-based research.

“So, what do you think?” Marcie asked after Velma had located her new electrophoresis and was in the process of examining the soldering work along its sides. “The lab in general, I mean, or the electrophoresis, if you’ve got opinions on that. I haven’t had cause to use it yet, though I made some test gels last week. They’re in the mini fridge, if you’d like to try one out, but I doubt I have any viable samples we could use for testing at the moment. You know biology isn’t my forte.”

“I like it. The lab, I mean, I’ll have to forgo judgment on your electrophoresis until I see it in action,” Velma said, crossing her arms. “Why did you decide to make one if you have no current need? Planning ahead?”

“Sort of. I thought it might be useful for you.”

“Why would you—” Velma broke off mid sentence to laugh slightly hysterically. “Marcie, your lab is big enough to accommodate a horde of people. How long have you been planning on getting me in here?”

“…a few months.”

“And were you planning on making me a permanent resident of your laboratory? I think I can see part of a kitchen behind that tilt-a-whirl car.”

“I wasn’t about to lock you up in here!” Marcie snapped, genuinely offended. “You’re more than welcome to come and go as you please. The kitchen’s just a kitchen because I will live here for short stints when I get embroiled in a project and it’s nice to have on hand, but the electrophoresis is for you as well as a few other things I bought. I just wanted you to be comfortable in my space so that we could work together!”

“All this just to work together? Marcie, this is a lot of space even for two people. Are you planning on us building a mecha robot or something?”

“Science is everything to me, but it’s also lonely,” Marcie admitted. She rubbed her arms self-consciously. “I’ve wanted to get to know you better for a while, but I’ve always known that you were extremely close with the gang. I thought if we became friends and you wanted to hang out with me here…”

“The rest of my friends would want to come over and hang out as well,” Velma finished for her. “Since they’re not pure academics, having space they’d be comfortable in as well is a good idea. Especially if it keeps Scooby or Shaggy from accidentally blowing this place up.”

“Yeah. Plus I like having a kitchen.”

Velma looked around the space again. To her surprise she could imagine clearing another third of the warehouse so that they’d have a usable kitchen and small lounge. She could see Daphne sprawled on the couch doing her English homework as Shaggy and Scooby cooked. Fred would be just a touch further away changing the Mystery Machine’s oil or maybe he’d be in the lab with them testing the corrosive effects of acids on his catalogue ordered nets. She knew without a doubt that Marcie would respect his engineering side. There were things she would respect about all of them. Cooking was simply home based chemistry and Daphne’s make up collection was rife for analysis. This could really work. She could see how Marcie could slot into their lives.

“Velma?” Marcie called hesitantly, breaking her out of her rumination.

“Kitchens are good,” Velma agreed. “You’ve put a lot of effort into this.”

“You’re worth it. I mean, you’re all worth it,” Marcie said hastily. “So, do you want to test the electrophoresis? See if I wired it right? I know you like picking that sort of thing apart.”

“Maybe later when we have something to test. I try to avoid running experiments on my own DNA. What are you working on? Surely there’s something neat occupying your mind.”

“I—yeah, I am. I’m testing chemical reactions on some of the old ride steel and it’s not acting the way one would typically expect steel to react,” Marcie said. “I think the heavy usage may have affected some innate properties of the metal, perhaps somehow permanently exciting the electron fields of the iron atoms in the alloy? I’m just spitballing the explanation right now because I don’t have a clue what’s causing my experimental results yet, but there’s something interesting happening and I want to find out more.”

“At the very least, quantify the strange properties of this roller coaster steel.”

“Exactly!”

“Can I help?”

Marcie blinked and wet her lips. “I’d like that very much.”

After a bit of discussion it was decided that Marcie would continue performing the experimentation—since she had already established certain innate qualities in the human component to the research, such as pouring rates or agitating speeds—while Velma would take over documentation. It wasn’t as fun as pouring the chemicals herself, but note taking was an essential part of the scientific process. She was playing assistant here and she was happy to assist. After flipping through the previous notes Velma was sure she could record at the same level of detail and likely improve upon it, which was how she always liked to approach her work.

Once they had been through several rounds of heating metal samples and adding chemicals to it Velma felt pretty confident with the process. She had a feeling they’d be writing up this experiment sooner or later, surely no one else had run this specific scenario before, and could likely get their article in a minor journal. Being published before they even started college would be a big deal. Even if no publication would accept it, the process would be great experience for future endeavors. To ensure their procedure would be properly pontificated in their future article, Velma decided to record a few rounds of experimentation on her phone.

“Attempt thirty-eight. Melted rollercoaster steel to be combined with chromium, stelegnight, and mercury phosphate,” Marcie announced.

She was working in her fume hood with a glass beaker over a Bunsen burner adjusted to its highest setting. This was so that the small chunk of track steel, which would melt around 1370ºC, was exposed to a temperature of roughly 1500ºC. She wished they could get an exact measurement, but Marcie did not appear to have a thermometer that would go that high and so Velma made do with her prior knowledge of temperature via flame coloration.

Once the metal had liquefied Marcie slowly added the chromium, then the stelegnite, and finally mercury phosphate. Within seconds of the final addition there was a color change and Velma was certain a gas formed because the bubbling liquid seemed to immediately evaporate. The beaker slowly rose off the flame and almost as soon as it cleared the heat the beaker started tumbling as it continued its assent. Marcie stepped back when the acrobatics began, but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid it bumping against her safety goggles. Velma was extremely grateful Marcie followed standard PPE practices.

“What the heck? It’s like some kind of super helium,” Marcie laughed in wonder as the beaker bobbled upside down along the top of the fume hood. Velma laughed and threw her arms around the other girl.

“Jinkies, you’re gonna be famous!” Velma grinned as she stared up at the beaker. “This is a serious discovery, Marcie, and if you can replicate it, you’re not going to have to worry about how to pay for college.”

Marcie was too busy staring up to respond. Velma grinned fondly at her friend. This could revolutionize air travel and there had to be a million other applications for a super helium. Marcie was going to be rich, famous, and have more accolades than she’d know what to do with by the time this had been properly commercialized. By all rights Velma thought she’d be jealous to witness a scientific breakthrough of this magnitude, at least before she had made one of her own, but instead she was just happy. In fact she didn’t feel remotely petty and instead of wondering how she could finagle secondary authorship on the groundbreaking paper that was going to be written, Velma was more concerned with how Marcie would react if she kissed her right now.

Oh.

Oh.

That might explain a lot of what she had been feeling over the course of the last month or so.

“Is something wrong?” Marcie asked, fixing her gaze on Velma. She looked concerned. “Are you upset? Because I could definitely use your help on the write up. The research for the introduction alone is going to be a nightmare. There’s more than enough credit to go around.”

“Ah no, shockingly enough I wasn’t worrying about that right now,” Velma said, patting Marcie’s shoulder. “I just made a minor discovery of my own.”

“Oh? Care to share?” Marcie’s smirk ought to be illegal. Velma was sure the last couple science fairs would have gone drastically different if she had possessed her current knowledge base then.

“Not yet, but I’ll clue you in later. Let’s focus on celebrating this discovery first,” Velma promised as her smile returned. Marcie grinned back at her and she again wanted to kiss her. They had discovered something amazing!

Science was awesome.

Chapter Text

“What do you think of this one?” Marcie asked, pulling an album out of the stacks.

The cover featured four men in bowler caps on a grey background. At the top along a checkered border were the words ‘Rude Boy and the Ska-Tastics.’ Velma frowned. It was clear they were trying to go for something Artistic by having the musicians standing at different distances from the camera, but honestly it just made it look like the furthest one back had been cut and pasted into the frame after the fact.

“I’d give them a C+ for effort, though there’s nothing original about the album,” Velma said. “It’s true Graveyard Ska Inc is a catchy tune, but that’s the only song they ever wrote and they couldn’t even fill the rest of the record with decent covers.”

“Valid. Still, I’d give it a B-. They made their record sleeve out of acid-free paper and gave it anti-static properties, which is a nice touch.”

“Eh, scores are reasonably similar,” Velma concluded before pulling out an LP. This time the cover art had a pair of thin men sitting on the back of a truck. “I’ll take your opinion on this.”

“Two Skinny Dudes? Ick! Boringly unoriginal, they got minutely more interesting when they joined that supernatural glam rock band, Wildwind, but then they all went to jail for that kidnapping scandal?” Marcie frowned and adjusted her glasses. “I think? Dad listens to them a lot and I think that’s what happened to them.”

“Dads Only rating?”

“Dads Only rating,” Marcie agreed. So far they had only bestowed that rating to one other band, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kids. That was Velma’s father’s go to and she was so sick of it she’d rather get stuck with classic Neptunes albums. Though the band’s new stuff from the oughts was pretty legit, who could resist ‘Jabberjaw Running Under Water?’

“No, no,” Marcie mumbled as she flipped past several Kiss albums. Velma was suddenly grateful the gang wasn’t here as most of them were Kiss fanatics and she couldn’t deal with another rant. Suddenly she pulled out an LP and offered it to Velma. “What about Cher?”

“Automatic A,” Velma immediately replied. “I mean, it’s Cher. She only got more badass after dumping Sonny. Plus she’s got that legendary single name status like Madonna and Beyoncé.”

“Yeah, but what about the album artwork?” Marcie demanded. “It’s just Cher standing on some steps at the edge of a cliff with the ocean in the background. That’s not exactly original.”

“You don’t have the context of this shot,” Velma protested. “This is the former location of a hotel she stayed at on her honeymoon with Sonny. On their way out she stomped her foot on those steps and the rest of the building tumbled into the ocean. Sonny then said Cher could really bring down the house, which was thematically important to this record.”

“I had no idea.”

“I think Cher also punched out a shark demon there?”

“Seriously?”

“At least according to legend. I wouldn’t bet against Cher. Again, this album deserves an A.”

“Jinkies.”

Velma had to beam when Marcie used her own catch phrase. It meant Marcie had conceded victory in their current game, which was a rare occurrence. They hadn’t settled on a proper word for Velma yet, but Marcie had left her speechless enough times now she seemed to recognize that as the signature of her victories. There wasn’t any reward to winning, other than token praise and admiration from the other player. Still, Velma was growing alarmed by how much she craved both of these things from Marcie. She was ashamed to admit she had started keeping track of Marcie’s scowl-to-smile ratio and secretly elated that there hadn’t been a real scowl directed her way in weeks.

“Hey V? On a more serious note, are there any records you actually want?”

“I’d say anything by the Hex Girls, but I already own their entire discography in multiple formats.” Velma flipped through the records looking for anything else that might spark her interest. She glanced at Marcie, who was no longer paying the music any attention in favor of staring at her. That made her face heat up. “What?”

“I didn’t know you were such a fan.”

“I’m the chapter president of the Hex Girls’ fan club. It’s a lot of work, but the perks are worth it.”

“Noted.” Marcie’s eyes seemed to gleam or perhaps her glasses had caught a particular beam from the store’s track lighting. “If you’re such a fan, then I have a suggestion.”

“Oh?”

“Have you heard of the Jinx Gals? Yeah, they kinda come off as a clone at first glance, but I’d argue that they’re simply heavily influenced. Their last album was their breakout and I don’t think anyone can say they don’t have their own distinct sound now. Definitely worth getting for any fan of eco-goth.”

“Alright, I’ll get it if we can find a copy,” Velma said, pleased to see how excited Marcie looked that she was taking her suggestion. To be fair, she probably would get anything Marcie recommended if she was going to be that excited about it.

So they dug through the records looking for the correct Jinx Gals album. Most of the entries were sorted by genre then by band name, but albums were frequently slightly out of order. This was likely due to the fact that Martha, the proprietor, could only go through and reorganize her stock after her customers misplaced it oh so often. Eventually they found the correct disk wedged in the middle of the Mystery Kids’ post Flash Flannigan work.

“Here you are,” Marcie said, presenting the album to Velma with a flourish. Their fingers brushed as she took possession. The cover featured what Velma could only describe as a leopard print themed witch’s lair. The band members were all crowded around a boiling cauldron and appeared to be lowering some sort of live critter into it. Velma couldn’t tell what. At least it was an original idea?

“I’m sensing some Jose and the Pussycats vibes in this,” Velma said before flipping the album over. There were a good number of songs, all original, and most had interesting titles. “Solid B work effort.”

“You’ll bump their score up once you hear them.”

“We’ll see about that.”

They made their way over to the register. Velma handed Martha the album.

“This everything for you two?” Martha asked. Velma glanced at Marcie before nodding. “Cool. You’re both welcome to keep browsing. I’m glad you’re together now. It’s clear you make each other happy.”

“We’re not together,” Velma blurted out. Martha’s words had sent her into a panic. “I mean, we are technically standing next to each other in the same time-space continuum, but that’s because we’re friends.”

“Respected colleagues,” Marcie added.

“Exactly!” Velma agreed, nodding vigorously at her.

“Right,” Martha said. Then she gave them that smile adults liked to give minors when they were indulging them in something and trying to be pointedly not condescending. Velma felt a spike of anger, but she tapped it down because Martha had always been cool to her even if she didn’t understand this particular situation. “You guys can label yourselves whatever you want.”

“We know that. Now we’ll get out of your hair because you must be getting busy with the remodel,” Velma said. She grabbed Marcie’s hand and pulled her toward the exit. Martha’s laughter drowned out the bell above the door as they left.

“What remodel?” Marcie asked once they were a block away from Grooves from the Grave and Velma’s pace had slowed. “I didn’t see any signs for one.”

“You didn’t notice all the paperwork? There was an estimate from Gnales Construction to completely remodel the upper floor. My guess is she’ll have to do that if she wants state approval to become a dispensary site.”

“A dispensary site for what?”

“Marijuana. Since it’s legal in this state now and no one sells it in Crystal Cove yet I’m not surprised Martha’s interested in getting in on it. She does run the closest thing to a head shop in town and I understand it’s a high growth industry.”

“I guess that makes sense. Do you think the mayor would be fine with that?”

“Mayor Jones wants money and there’s little in life more lucrative than narcotics,” Velma explained. “Not only can he tax sales, but also collect lots of fees related to the building permits required for the remodel, since Martha has to have a secure place to store and distribute these goods. I imagine food sales and other consumerism will go up in the surrounding area as well.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Marcie said. A ghost of a smile graced her lips as she squeezed Velma’s hand, which Velma belatedly realized she had never let go of. “How do you figure these things out?”

“I pay attention. Notice things. Then connect the dots to come to my deductions.”

“It’s still impressive,” Marcie said. She glanced back at the record store. “This particular one doesn’t really affect us much.”

“If we were girl scouts we’d set up all future cookie sales in front of Martha’s shop,” Velma grinned. That earned her a laugh. “On a more serious note, they’re building a new O’Greazy’s on some former Destroido Corp land. So you can imagine my joy knowing the gang will end up visiting that fly infested fast food joint on opening day.”

“O’Greazy is so gross. Did you know he showed up at the park a couple months ago and demanded Dad sell it to him so that he could make a franchise themed amusement park?” Marcie said, shaking her head in disgust. “When he refused to sell O’Greazy’s equally slimy son tried to bully us into making them the sole concessions supplier.”

“What creeps!”

“I mean, I’m the first to admit that the park food isn’t healthy, but I wouldn’t even feel comfortable quantifying it as food if it came from them,” Marcie snorted.

“Tell me how you really feel,” Velma grinned. Marcie knocked their shoulders together. “Hey, if you’ve got a personal vendetta against O’Greazy, maybe I can use that to skip their opening day. I’m sure Daphne would also like a suitable out to avoid the flies.”

“Girls’ day it is,” Marcie agreed.

Velma loosened her grip on Marcie’s hand with the intent to pull away because she had been hanging onto her for too long for it not to be weird. However, their hands didn’t fall apart. Instead Marcie gave another gentle squeeze, so Velma resumed her grip. If Marcie thought Velma was standing too close going forward that would be her own fault for not letting go.

“Where do you want to go next?” Marcie asked. She pointed at Velma’s new record. “Do you want to take that home or put it in my car?”

“I suppose I should take it home. Don’t want it warping in your car,” Velma sighed. While it was no longer unbearably hot like it had been in early June, temperatures were still too high to safely leave vinyl in vehicles for any significant length of time. She checked her watch. “Mom should be at the track at this hour and Dad’s not that bad to deal with, so I guess it would be safe to go home.”

“Does this mean I get to see your room?” Marcie asked eagerly.

“Only if you behave,” Velma said, mock glaring at her. She jerked her head. “Come on.”

It would have been a lot faster to take Marcie’s car home. They could have arrived, dropped off the LP, and departed before the walk home had ended. That would have been the more efficient option, but they weren’t in any rush and Velma felt like walking. Since Marcie didn’t say anything she figured she was okay with it too. It was nice walking with Marcie. She was a good companion, someone Velma could enjoy silence with, and it felt comfortable being at her side. Sure, she had to worry if her hand was getting too sweaty for Marcie’s preferences or if she was keeping an appropriately platonic distance from her, but she could live with those problems. Velma already knew she stared at her too much and for too long. At least she hadn’t been called out for doing so yet.

When they arrived Velma pulled her hand out of Marcie’s grip. She immediately stuck it in her pocket to dig for her keys, as if that was the only reason to let go. However, she wanted to separate before her Dad saw. She wasn’t worried about him being homophobic—her folks were pretty liberal and would probably be fine about her preferences if she told them—but he would definitely say something about them holding hands. If multiple people commented on their behavior in a single day Marcie would probably catch on to Velma’s crush. She would die if that got out.

They found Dale in the driveway under the family station wagon. As they ambled up the drive he must have noticed their presence because he rolled out from under the vehicle, sat up, and wiped his hands on a cloth as he greeted them.

“You’re home early, Pumpkin, is something wrong?” Dale said, smiling worriedly at Velma. “Is that your friend, Macy?”

“Pumpkin?” Marcie snorted, choking down laughter.

“Shut up,” Velma hissed before turning to her father. “It’s Marcie, Dad, and we just came by to drop something off.”

“Oh, like your cousin,” Dale said.

“Yeah, but she spells it differently.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Dinkley,” Marcie said, offering him a hand, which he happily shook.

“Likewise. I’m always happy when Velma’s got friends to occupy her free time.” Dale turned to look at his daughter. “Pumpkin, do you think you could help me change the oil filter? You did it last time and my fat fingers are having trouble getting purchase on the drain plug.”

“Of course, Dad,” Velma sighed. She handed the record to Marcie then took Dale’s place on the roller creeper. As soon as she slid under the car she got to work. That didn’t prevent Velma from hearing Marcie and Dale’s conversation.

“Does Velma know a lot about cars?” Marcie asked.

“Of course,” Dale chuckled. “While Angie was at the track with her horses, Velma and I spent every Sunday tooling around in the garage. She rebuilt her first engine all on her own when she was nine. Isn’t that right, Pumpkin?”

“I’m a little busy right now,” Velma called back. She desperately wished he’d stop calling her Pumpkin in front of her crush.

“Honestly, if she weren’t such a little academic, I’d encourage her to pursue a career in the trade. She’d always have work.”

Velma could hear the pride in Dale’s voice, but that didn’t make it any less awkward to listen to. Especially when she couldn’t see Marcie’s face and gauge her reaction. It was distracting enough she nearly spilled the nasty old oil on herself. Yelping, at the near miss she barely got the pan in place to catch the waste.

“Is everything alright, Pumpkin?” Dale called.

“It’s fine, Dad, everything’s draining,” Velma grumbled as she rolled out. Marcie offered her a rag, which she immediately used to clean her hands.

“You’ve got a little on your face,” Marcie said.

“Oh where?” Velma asked, self consciously rubbing at her cheeks and forehead in hopes of getting the gunk.

“No. No. Here let me,” Marcie said, grinning as she took back the rag. She gently wiped off Velma’s chin and then dabbed her nose. “Much better.”

“Thanks,” Velma said. She had been maintaining eye contact with Marcie since coming out from under the station wagon. She was fairly certain she should have broken eye contact by now, but Velma wasn’t sure she could. Then Dale cleared his throat.

“Thank you for getting the oil out,” he said. “I think I can handle it from here, Velma.”

“Right.” Velma scrambled to her feet and glanced down at her orange T-shirt. It still looked clean, but after Marcie caught several spots on her face Velma felt hyperaware of her personal grooming. “Let’s head inside, I need to change. Marcie, help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

“A moment, Velma,” Dale said just as she was about to follow her friend inside. She stopped and turned to look at him. “You’ve always been very responsible and your mother and I trust you.”

“Okay,” Velma said, not sure where this was going, but entirely certain she didn’t like it.

“Just… use your head, but don’t stay trapped in it either because you’re more than your grey matter. Don’t listen to your hormones.”

“I won’t listen to my hormones,” Velma promised and stepped into the house before he could say any more. Clearly her father was no longer a safe conversationalist either.

She found Marcie in the kitchen holding an unopened can of carbonated water. She seemed rather anxious, but calmed when Velma came into view. Together they climbed the stairs to reach Velma’s room.

“I wasn’t expecting company and it’s not all that exciting to begin with, so don’t get your hopes up,” Velma warned after she unlocked her door.

“Just open the door, V. I’m not going to judge you that hard,” Marcie said, rolling her eyes.

“Fine,” Velma snapped, jerking open the door.

She still felt embarrassed, but now also annoyed that Marcie didn’t understand her recalcitrance. Her room wasn’t pure unfiltered Velma Dinkley, since her mother regularly snooped through her room, but it was the closest space she had to that pure state of being. The idea that Marcie would walk through such a place when she hadn’t had a chance to hide anything or put up barriers and dislike it, or even worse find it lacking, was a little soul destroying. Velma wasn’t supposed to be affected by Marcie’s personal opinions and it was frustrating that they now mattered.

However, the annoyance vanished as soon as Marcie entered her room because it was clear she was impressed by it. She quickly walked around to examine things on display; careful to step over anything Velma had haphazardly left on the floor. Even if it didn’t matter, like the loose change that fell from her night stand or the pen that rolled off her desk. She was smiling and made happy approval noises as she browsed Velma’s bookcases. Then she reached the corner window, which was the most unusual feature of Velma’s room.

“Do you use this set up for summoning rituals?” Marcie asked.

“No?” Velma said, confused. “Why do you ask?”

“It looks like a portal to another world. I mean, you’ve got this thin weird tall window, which is unlike the others I’ve seen in the rest of the house, or even your room, and it’s framed by man sized candle holders that look like they belong on an altar. Plus there’s the black velvet drapes… and the skulls.”

“The skulls are plastic.”

“Plastic?”

“They’re lights, like Christmas tree lights only spooky for Halloween,” Velma explained, plugging them into a nearby outlet. They all lit up cheerily. “Mom got them for me when I was six, but since they don’t have a switch on the cord I mostly leave them unplugged.”

“Oh. Well I like them.”

“Thanks.”

Velma set the new album down by her turntable and crossed her arms. What exactly did one do with a girl in their room? Especially when she had a crush on said girl? Velma’s room had always been pretty strictly single occupancy only—the gang rarely hung out at her place due to Angie—and when they did visit socialization was generally restricted to the living room. She realized Marcie had finished her initial inspection and was now standing as awkwardly as she was.

“Umm, why don’t you take a seat?” Velma suggested, pulling out her desk chair and offering it to Marcie. She sat down, so Velma sank onto the edge of her bed. There was a comfortable gap between them, which meant Velma wouldn’t accidentally invade Marcie’s personal space, but not so far as to make conversation strained.

“Your room is very you,” Marcie said. She opened her can of water and took a sip.

“As it should be,” Velma said. She wasn’t sure if Marcie had meant that was a good thing or a bad thing, but even if Velma didn’t always like herself, she wasn’t about to be anyone else. “I would be concerned if I hadn’t left an impression on the space I’ve inhabited for seventeen years.”

“So you’ve always lived in this house?”

“Yes. From that statement I gather the same cannot be said for you?”

“We moved to our current house when I was five. I have memories of our old kitchen. It was yellow and my mom loved to bake in there. Oddly enough, I vividly remember the staircase as well, but everything else is fragmentary at best.”

“Was there something special about the staircase?”

“Not really? I was scared of it, but I don’t remember why. Maybe it cast scary shadows? The carpet on it was this tacky threadbare plaid and the stairs were tall enough I had difficulty traversing them.”

“Huh,” Velma murmured, trying to imagine this childhood place in Marcie’s life. “Was it hard to leave?”

“I can’t remember,” Marcie shrugged. “I have cousins who move every few years. They don’t get attached to the spaces they inhabit because they know it’s just temporary. Moving seems like a real pain though. I’d hate to have to uproot my life on a regular basis, which is the biggest hurdle to pursuing academia in my opinion.”

“I kinda like the idea of not being beholden to a particular place. There are times when I feel really trapped and stifled here,” Velma admitted. “Even though this is my room, it’s not really mine. It’s part of my parents’ house and subject to their whims. Mom questions every change I make in here.”

“Dad hasn’t stepped foot in my room since I was fifteen. If we didn’t eat together regularly I think he’d forget I live with him.”

“If you ever need some over parenting, you can borrow my mother. She goes through everything on a regular basis,” Velma offered. “It’s why I can’t wait to finish high school and move out. I’ll finally get the chance to establish healthy boundaries.”

“What sort of boundaries?”

“Like, if I want something private, it remains private. As things currently stand, the only way I can retain my secrets is if I only keep them up here,” Velma said, tapping her temple. It was why she hadn’t written anything down or spoken her thoughts on Marcie since her realization in the lab. She wasn’t ready to share something that personal with anyone yet. Especially not her mother.

“Can you share any of your secrets with me?” Marcie asked, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

“Then they wouldn’t be secret, Fleach,” Velma said flatly. Marcie frowned, but didn’t say anything. Velma felt her resolve weaken. “Maybe I’ll let you in on some of them later. Definitely not here.”

“Okay. Cool.”

“Do you want to do anything? I’d offer to put the Jinx Gals on, but I want to fully focus on the music the first time I listen to them,” Velma said. She checked her watch. “Also, unless you’re currently in the mood for some over parenting, we should leave soon.”

“How about going to the Royal Knights Faire?” Marcie suggested. They’re got jousting, jugglers, and all sorts of neat crafting done in person. I love watching the glass blowing and… oh, you really don’t like that suggestion.”

“Is it that obvious?” Velma asked. She thought she was still smiling.

“Your face has gone kinda rictus. What’s so bad about the Faire? You look like I suggested a root canal, V.”

“Too many pirate hobos and I dislike wearing costumes. I had a really bad time when I was last at the Faire.”

“Then that’s a no go,” Marcie sighed.

“Want to visit K-Ghoul? I bet you’d like the inside of the recording booth.”

“Angel Dynamite seriously intimidates me.”

“She’s actually pretty laid back once you get to know her, but I understand,” Velma said. It had taken a mystery for the gang to get used to Angel and they didn’t have one of those for Marcie. “Hmm, what else could we do? There’s not a lot going on in town right now. The only thing I can think of is tonight’s Lady Banshees game.”

“Lady Banshees? What do they play?”

“Does it matter? You’re not a sports fan.”

“I’m not a men’s sports fan,” Marcie stressed. “The last thing I ever want to watch is guys getting sweaty. Lady athletes are a different beast entirely. I could easily be compelled to watch if you’re into them. So, Lady Banshees?”

“The Crystal Cove Lady Banshees are a roller derby team. They have a game tonight at Terror Dome Stadium. I’ve never gone to roller derby before, but a lot of my hockey friends love it. I’ve been meaning to catch a game for a while as they’re supposed to be a ton of fun.”

“Then let’s do it! If we like it, that can be our thing,” Marcie said, rising to her feet.

“Yeah?” Velma also got up. Marcie’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Depending on when the game starts, well stop at Plan P-izza from Outer Space before or afterward. I’m sick of overpriced event food.”

“Stadium food is way too close to park food,” Marcie agreed. “I like this plan.”

“Good,” Velma said. She knew it wasn’t, but it kinda felt like they had just planned a date.

“Let’s do food first,” Marcie said after consulting her phone. “There should be enough time and that way we can read up on the rules before the game.”

“Yes. I like that modification to the plan.”

“As a team, V, we’re unstoppable.”

Velma was beginning to agree with that sentiment.

A few hours later the pair were in the stands screaming with the rest of the crowd. They were on their feet clutching each other as they watched the Lady Banshees’ jammer weave her way through the opposing team. If Velma understood the rules correctly, once their jammer passed the last of the blue and gold uniforms their team would have their first lead of the game. Considering there was only enough time for a couple more jams in the game that was a big deal.

“Oh my gosh,” Marcie laughed and she clutched Velma tighter. “Does that mean we could win?”

Velma glanced at the scoreboard. The Lady Banshees now had a three-point lead. “Very possibly!”

Banshee fans around them waved their red and white-stripped gear as they wailed away. Velma and Marcie joined them as they had for a number of chants they didn’t fully understand. Velma could feel her heart pounding and adrenaline coursing through her circulatory system. When she glanced at Marcie again she realized the girl was watching her instead of the game. Despite the fact their team was poised for victory and this was the most exciting point of the night Marcie was focused on her.

Velma felt her cheeks heat up as she turned her attention back onto the track. If she got asked about it later she’d blame the flush on her excursion. It was incredibly flattering to think that Marcie was more interested in watching her than the roller derby. Probably wasn’t true, but a girl could dream.

A few minutes later the opposition snatched back the lead and held it until time ran out. Their first roller derby game had ended in defeat and, while disappointed fans surrounded them, Velma felt great. She had had a blast watching the game with Marcie and had learned so much about the sport. If Marcie had half the fun she had they were going to make this a regular occurrence. Velma briefly considered if this would have been more fun with the rest of the gang along before deciding that she wouldn’t change a thing about this evening.

They walked hand in hand back to Marcie’s car. While Velma felt drained, Marcie appeared to be exhausted, as she rested her head on Velma’s shoulder during their stroll. Velma patted her cheek to wake her up when they arrived.

“Are you okay to drive?” Velma asked.

“Yeah,” Marcie yawned and shook her head. “I’m good. Did you have fun?”

“Most definitely. You?”

“It was an experience I’d like to replicate. You are an incredibly passionate sports fan.”

“Did you even pay attention to the game?” Velma teased.

Marcie yawned again and smiled innocently, which wasn’t an answer. There was a gentle fondness in her expression that made Velma wonder if she wasn’t entirely imagining things. She still hadn’t let go of her hand. When Marcie yawned yet again Velma squeezed her upper arm.

“Let’s stop at Chen’s. I want to get some caffeine in you before the drive home,” Velma said.

“Anything you wish, V,” Marcie said. “I’d do anything for you.”

Velma felt her heart squeeze painfully. She had to either get her feelings under control or else tell her how she felt before this crush killed her. Velma wasn’t built to endlessly pine. As they got into the car she hoped she could muster the courage to do what she needed to do. Velma would hate to lose this blossoming friendship, but a cost assessment analysis suggested that the chance to leverage this relationship into something more was worth the risk. She had best do it soon though before Velma grew any more attached to Marcie Fleach.

Chapter Text

In a move that ought to surprise no one, the random weirdos that were compelled to dress up as monsters to perform illicit activities did not take a break from their hobby, despite the fact Mystery Incorporated was on summer vacation and scattered to the four winds. Thus the town was overrun with a new crop of well-costumed criminals that the mayor and Velma’s parents tried to pass off as a tourist attraction. Frankly, Velma felt the property damage these creeps incurred in the course of their antics outweighed the out of town revenue they attracted, but hey, what did she know? Most of the town’s inhabitants had accepted long ago that in exchange for excellent schools and a low cost of living they always ran a higher risk of injury or kidnapping by a fake monster. Insurance companies tended to hang up the moment they heard one lived or worked in Crystal Cove. That was one of several reasons Velma hadn’t gotten her license yet, even though she was a perfectly competent driver.

The point was that by the time July rolled around Crystal Cove was plagued by spooks. Velma was certain they were all scams, but without the gang to back her up she wasn’t comfortable investigating too intensely. Mystery solving was a far safer activity for four teens and a Great Dane than one lone girl and Velma wasn’t the sort of fool to place herself in a precarious situation. Also, she was aware she’d be grounded the moment she tried to detect on her own. Sure, she took note of anything unusual that happened in her purview—there were three cases she knew she had solved, save for the trapping of the criminal—but otherwise let the monsters run amok. Just as the mayor, the sheriff, and her parents had ordered.

So Velma didn’t get why Mayor Jones had screeched at her like it was her fault (fake) Revolutionary Ghosts had ruined the Fourth of July parade. With his hands on his hips he genuinely expected her to do something to stop the four luminescing figures from ripping apart the Fruitmeirs float the way they had taken apart the Destroido Corp one. Velma just shrugged and smiled at him. She wasn’t about to take on four people at once, especially not at the major’s urging. More likely than not he’d try to have her jailed for ruining another tourist attraction if she succeeded.

“Fake ghosts, what can you do?” Velma said, shrugging as if she were powerless. In this particular case she was.

In response Mayor Jones demanded, “What do you mean fakes?”

They had to be fakes. Beyond the obvious fact that ghosts weren’t real, California hadn’t been part of the colonies during the Revolutionary War, so there were not battles in which British soldiers or colonists could have died here and come back to haunt the town centuries later. Just for the heck of it, Velma had checked the town archives and determined that no Revolutionary War veterans had settled and died in Crystal Cove as well, just in case someone wanted to argue that the ghosts had reverted back to an earlier state in their lives. She’d had that sort of conversation with Angie during past cases. Ghosts didn’t travel this far for property damage.

In the end Velma watched as the revolutionists tore the whole parade apart and robbed half the spectators. She kinda wished she had a tub of popcorn and Marcie for the spectacle, as that would have made it more enjoyable. Critiquing the fake ghosts’ form in her head was fun for only so long. It would have been nice to play off Marcie, though that might have attracted their attention.

Based on their demands, which were nebulous at best, the rest of the Independence Day celebration was cancelled. That included the fireworks display. That was the biggest disappointment for Velma, as she had planned to watch them with Marcie. Ideally, if the night had gone well, she had hoped to share her feelings with the other girl once they were done. That had seemed appropriately romantic. With the fireworks cancelled, they went to the park instead and rode the tilt-a-whirl until Velma puked, which put the kibosh on any confessions. While she hoped Marcie liked her back enough to ignore any ride induced vomiting, it certainly wouldn’t help her make a case for being a worthy romantic interest. They spent the rest of the night on Marcie’s couch watching an old sci-fi show. It was nice, even if it wasn’t what Velma had planned.

In a twist of fate the Revolutionary Ghosts’ reign of terror in Crystal Cove ended abruptly a week later when they lost a brawl with some Civil War Zombies. This was also annoying to Velma, as the zombies had to be equally fake as the ghosts, but at least there was some historical basis for this costumery. California had become a state by the time that war occurred and Crystal Cove had even fielded a platoon for the Union. There was a statue at Darrow University honoring local Civil War veterans that students dressed up like whatever monster was haunting campus that week.

These costumed criminals didn’t have a problem with festivities, though they would blow up your car if you drove on the south side of town, and so Mayor Jones rescheduled the Fourth of July fireworks for the twenty-fourth. He explained during a town meeting that fireworks were expensive and the particular ones he had purchased were not shelf stable—they were practically a steal and I didn’t know ghosts would object to our festivities this year Jones had insisted—so they were going to have a show after all.

Velma ran walking tours for her folks every night leading up to the twenty-fourth of July specifically so that they wouldn’t bother her the night of. It was clear Angie and Dale suspected she was up to something, but they didn’t call her out on it, as she was behaving. As her plot had nothing to do with mystery solving, Velma figured they’d let it slide even if they did find out. Her machinations had nothing to do with the family business and if they did blow up in her face, the worst that would happen was that Velma would be friendless until the gang returned and utterly heartbroken. So awful, but not the end of the world.

Defeat was not the outcome she wanted, so Velma tried not to dwell on it. Especially as she was gearing up to try something out of her comfort zone. That’s why she gave it her all on the last walking tour she ran that afternoon. The tourists were all very excited as they filed into the Broken Spine when they finished.

“You did very well, sweetheart,” Angie said, placing a hand on Velma’s shoulder. “We’ll make you into a proper curator yet.”

“Please make it of an accredited museum if you do,” Velma said.

“Oh you,” Angie admonished, but there was no heat to her words. All the Dinkleys knew exactly what the family business was. She pushed Velma’s messenger bag into her hands. Velma was a little surprised she even had it, as it had been in her locker in the break room. “Your girlfriend’s waiting for you. Now go have fun.”

“She’s not my—” Velma cut herself off, blinking rapidly at the benign smile on her mother’s face. She knew exactly what she was doing and Velma wasn’t about to fall for it. Instead Velma stomped away. The mood Angie had put her in vanished the moment she laid eyes on Marcie, who was reading a book on the hood of her car. She paused to watch her for a moment before approaching.

“Hey V, what are you wearing?” Marcie greeted her when she registered her presence.

“Oh, like you’re one to talk considering your work uniform,” Velma shot back after glancing down at her ‘Crystal Cove Summer of Spooks’ T-shirt her parents made her wear for the tours. It was a lavender shirt with a halfway decent graphic on the front of four different monsters shambling around the words. It was nothing compared to a mascot costume.

“Fair. Are you going to keep wearing it or change?” Marcie asked, resting her head on her hand, book now forgotten. “It’s kinda cute on you.”

“I could be persuaded, even if it’s not my color.”

“Keep it on. After seeing you in this I can confidently say Daphne has not cornered the market on all shades of purple.”

“Are you going to get in the car or continue critiquing my fashion sense?” Velma asked after slamming the passenger door shut. Her face was hot again and she hoped it could be passed off as outraged embarrassment and not the flattered embarrassment that it was. Nobody else said nice things about the way she looked. Her brain and her accomplishments, sure, but not her physical form.

“Why V, I was complimenting you, not critiquing,” Marcie said as she cheerfully got into the car. “If you want to be a shrinking violet that’s fine, but I’m going to have to question your alpha nerd status if you can’t handle a compliment or two.”

“I can handle praise just fine, but alpha nerds don’t typically receive positive reactions to their appearance. That requires a bit of an adjustment.”

“Which I’m sure you can handle just fine.”

“How would you feel if I told you that your smile’s enough to make a girl’s knees weak?” Velma demanded. She inwardly cringed a little when her brain caught up to her mouth. It was true, but not something she had meant to say. Only Marcie made her feelings overtake her logic and it was always a strange jumble of what got out first.

“I’d like it if it were true,” Marcie replied hotly, glaring at her steering wheel. “Now where are we going? You planned tonight.”

Sensing that Marcie’s blatant subject change was an attempt to avoid a fight Velma took the bait. The last thing she wanted to do was get in a fight this evening.

“We’ll swing by the Bloody Stake and then head to the beach,” Velma said. Marcie nodded to show she understood and started the car. When they arrived Velma unbuckled her seatbelt, but stopped Marcie from doing the same.

“Embarrassed to be seen in public with me, V?” Marcie asked. Her voice sounded light, but Velma didn’t trust it on this. They both had too many hang ups on this subject for there to not be a hidden edge.

“I mean, you can come with, but I’m literally just picking up take out.”

At that Marcie unbuckled her seatbelt and followed Velma up to the entrance. It was a little absurd, surely they could do things apart, but she knew there were worse things than Marcie wanting to spend time with her. In the lobby Velma barely had time to get her name out before the vampire waitress shoved her order into her arms with enough force she probably would have knocked Velma over if Marcie weren’t right behind her. Guess that was reason enough for them both to come inside.

Marcie drove them to Crystal Cove State Beach. However, as soon as she parked and had taken a look at the beach itself, she threw the car in reverse and left the lot. This was not part of the plan. Velma did not like it when things deviated from the plan. That was why ‘Fred’s trap gets bungled and the gang must improvise’ was written into every mystery solving plan right before ‘capture the monster and unmask the villain.’ It was the only way she could sublimate her friends’ chaotic energy. Marcie did not have that sort of energy and she respected plans. Unsurprisingly, Velma felt a little gobsmacked.

“What are you doing? We were at the beach,” Velma said.

“Yes, but that beach is crowded and I could see popular kids,” Marcie said. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like getting picked on during our picnic. V, before you say anything else, the gang isn’t here, so they’re going to pick on us. Especially if we’re eating. Fred can’t deter them all the way from trap camp.”

“Actually, Fred’s more of a lightning rod than a deterrent, but your point is valid,” Velma admitted, adjusting her glasses. “Even if they left us alone—which you’re right, it’s doubtful—I don’t feel like looking at them while I’m trying to have a good time. Still, I’m not exactly thrilled by the change in plans. Picnic at the beach and then fireworks was vague enough that I don’t have a decent back up plan.”

“Now I know something’s up if you don’t have a back up plan. May I suggest a modification before you freak out about losing the plan?”

“You may. Pending approval before implementation of course.”

“Certainly. The state beach isn’t the only beach around. We could go to a different one.”

“I take it you have one in mind. Would we still be able to see the fireworks?”

“Yes, but not as well,” Marcie admitted. That made sense. The fireworks were supposed to be set off from a pier located at the Crystal Cove State Beach, so it would be hard to get a better view than from that particular waterfront location. “The beach I’m thinking of is also of lower quality, smaller in size and pebbled rocks instead of sand, but on the plus side no one ever goes there. We’d have it to ourselves.”

“Let’s give it a shot. If we don’t like it we can go somewhere else.”

“Roger that,” Marcie said and set the car going north along the coast.

Velma leaned back in her seat and tried to relax. The plan was still on track and this little setback was actually a good thing. Changing the location to somewhere more private ought to make them both more comfortable, since they wouldn’t be on display for their peers. In the old location Velma might not have had the courage to share her feelings if there was risk of a public rejection and now that wouldn’t be a problem. This was a good thing. So why couldn’t she settle down and stop fidgeting?

“We’re here,” Marcie announced as she pulled into a much smaller and nearly empty lot. “You okay?”

“Just excited,” Velma replied, nearly launching herself out of the vehicle. “Do you still have a blanket in your trunk?”

“I always keep one in there just in case. That’s how I kept those kids from completely soaking the back of my car,” Marcie said. She popped the trunk then got out of the car and retrieved it. “So, will this do, Dinkley?”

Velma scanned the beach. It was a forlorn strip of land with some scraggly shrubs on the land-based border. Nor did it appear particularly well cared for, as she could see a large amount of trash scattered along the beach, the highest concentration of which was along the shoreline, which meant it probably drifted in on the current. Still, it was a beach and, save for a woman with a dog in the distance, they had it all to themselves just as Marcie promised.

“Will this do?” Marcie repeated, “Or do I need to find another place?”

“This should be fine. I think I can see some of the state beach from here,” Velma said, pointing south. She looked around again. “Hey, I think there’s a fire pit and some logs over there. Let’s set up by them in case we want a fire later.”

Marcie must have agreed because she laid the blanket just behind one of the log benches. Velma set the order down before sitting and Marcie joined her. It was perhaps a bit early to eat and Velma wasn’t that hungry, but the food was hot now and its quality would only decline with time. Plus Marcie was already eagerly digging into the bag, interested to see what Velma had ordered, clearly making it dinnertime.

Velma picked at her food and talked a lot through the meal. She spoke far more than she ate and even if that was due to nerves, Marcie seemed to appreciate what she said, so that was a win in her book. Much of her musings were upon the practical applications of Marcie’s new super helium. They were still in the process of testing it, though they had sent in a patent application on the development process and started writing an article on the discovery. Velma had a dozen books and at least twice as many journals covering her bed at the moment while she drafted the contextual background for their introduction. She’d slept in a nest of blankets on the floor the last two nights because that was easier than disturbing her research.

Their conversation was derailed after a flock of seagulls discovered their picnic and made off with all their fries. The disturbance of fighting off dozens of birds as they tried to snatch every morsel they could get their beaks on took a lot of time and energy. Velma was fairly certain she got nipped a couple of times before they were finally free. She also realized she had no idea what point she had been trying to make when the gulls attacked.

“Not that I don’t love talking science with you, but could we change the subject?” Marcie asked. It was as if she realized Velma’s river of words had dried up and she was ready to alter their course. “We’ve been so focused on our professional advancement of late that I feel we’ve neglected everything else. Especially when we’ve still got another year before college.”

“Applications are due in a few months. This is our last best chance to improve ourselves before we have to submit them,” Velma said. “I want to take advantage of every opportunity I’ve got to get the education I want and the funding to support it.”

“If these admission committees have any sense, they’ll send you acceptance letters before you even apply,” Marcie said dismissively. “You’re that good. I should know.”

“That’s not how it works and you know it, Marcie. Besides you’re on equal footing with me, so if I got that you ought to get the same treatment as well.”

“Ah, but I’m not half as likeable as you are.”

“Says who?” Velma demanded, bristling at the thought anyone would find Marcie unlikeable. Sure, she could be obstinate and petty at times, but Velma liked those qualities in her. Unlike magnetism, like drew to like in people.

“Aww shucks, V, I can’t believe you just said that,” Marcie said, smiling fondly.

“What did I say that was so weird?” Velma asked, stomach flipping at the smile.

“You’re defending me. Nobody does that! If anyone had suggested back in May that you’d be doing that for me in July I would have assumed they were on something because the idea would have been so foreign. I like this a lot better than what we used to have.”

“Me too.”

There was a silence before Marcie coughed and cleared her throat. “What’s the deal with you suggesting that Fred’s a bullying magnet? I mean, he’s tall, blond, and muscular. That doesn’t scream ‘pick on me’ to me.”

“He is conventionally attractive,” Velma agreed. “However, he’s also a total weirdo and wholly focuses on traps to the exclusion of everything else. Gary and Ethan try to bully and blame him for whatever’s currently wrong in their lives, but he usually just thinks they’re teasing, since they all play soccer together. They can’t really physically harm him either, since Fred could technically snap them like twigs and they’re cowards. Still, it gets them to leave the rest of us alone, which is fantastic, since they used to pick on Shaggy.”

“You think Fred’s handsome?” Marcie asked. There was something off about her tone that Velma couldn’t decipher. She decided to cautiously answer.

“I guess? He possesses most of the physical qualities our society considers attractive in a male. He’s really more Daphne’s type than mine,” Velma concluded. She repressed a shudder as she remembered the hours listening to Daphne swoon about Fred. She had even once written a sonnet about his shoulders and asked for Velma’s help editing it. Never again.

“Oh I suppose that makes sense. You dated Shaggy after all,” Marcie said, adjusting her glasses. The sun was rapidly setting, so Velma couldn’t see her facial expressions very well, but she wouldn’t have taken it in at the moment anyway, as the memory of her past dating disaster was wreaking havoc on her internal systems.

“Please don’t remind me,” Velma groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“Why not?”

“Because it was a colossal blunder on my part. We were never good for each other romantically,” Velma huffed. She hoped that was enough. This was the last topic of conversation she wanted to have with Marcie tonight. Talking about a past romantic partner, even as chaste as the one she had had with Shaggy was a terrible way to woo a potential future one.

“Please explain, V? I’ve never dated anyone and I want to understand why he didn’t work for you. Why you regret it now.”

“I don’t think Shaggy was quite ready for a girlfriend when we started dating and I pursued him for a selfish reason,” Velma admitted. “You see, I had known about Daphne’s crush on Fred for a while. Sooner or later he was going to notice it and of course he’d like her back. She’s Daphne, what’s not to like?”

“I can see that.”

“I wanted to pair the spares. Make Shaggy and I couple before they got together so that we'd continue to hang out as a group. I was so sure that if I didn’t do this he’d get a girlfriend, probably one with a dog for Scooby, and they’d turn all outings into group dates leaving me behind. I was terrified of being forgotten.”

“I’d never forget you,” Marcie said fiercely.

“I know and the gang wouldn't either, but I let my insecurities call the shots. I played an aggressive pursuit and it blew up in my face, nearly taking the gang with it.”

“I’m sorry,” Marcie said, reaching out and squeezing Velma’s hand.

“I’ll never try to force someone to be with me again,” Velma promised. She sighed. “I also wanted someone who’d put me first and thought Shaggy could do that.”

“V, I’d—” Whatever Marcie was saying was cut off by an explosion above their heads.

Velma looked up and grinned when she spotted the brilliant green firework spreading across the sky. Tonight’s entertainment had begun. As soon as the first firework started to fade another lit up the sky in a wildly different color. This pattern continued for some time. Slowly the shapes of the fireworks became more complex as they exploded and the colors expanded into a startling array. If Velma hadn’t known these particular fireworks had been purchased at a steep discount she would think the show was attempting to tell a story in the sky. In any case it was very pretty, especially as the rate of detonations increased as they rapidly approached the finale.

It was obvious when they hit the finale because the sky burst into red, white, and blue. There wasn’t a bit of dark left as rings, starbursts, and stars piled on top of each other for several minutes straight. Popping booms filled the air and Velma was certain they would have needed earplugs if they had watched from the state beach. Suddenly all the noise stopped and the sky faded back to black. Then, just as she could make out the stars again, a lone firework streaked up to burst forth as a splatter of mauve. There were no more fireworks after that. The show had ended.

Velma exhaled and looked down at her lap. She shouldn’t put it off anymore; it was time to tell Marcie how she felt. A shiver ran down her spine and it wasn’t simply nerves. The air had gotten chilly during the show and she had been too focused on it to notice. Her right hand wasn’t cold though—Marcie had held onto it through the entire display. The conditions were so perfect she’d cry if she couldn’t get her confession out. At the moment Velma thought nothing could be more romantic than holding hands while watching fireworks alone on the beach.

Instead it was Marcie who spoke first. “Do you want to build a fire? I’m not ready to go home yet, but it’s too dark to see you.”

“Yeah,” Velma whispered. “Let’s do that.”

With a minimal amount of cursing Velma built a fire in the dark. This wasn’t the first time she had done this, camping trips with her parents usually required a fire built in the dark on the first night as her parents were always absurdly late leaving on trips. Still, she didn’t enjoy building her fuel base by touch alone as it was easy to accidentally knock down her teepee structure just as she was balancing her last chunks of wood. Once they were in place she pulled a zip lock bag of dryer lint and a box of matches from her bag—spending the evening at the beach meant a potential bonfire was always in the cards—and set the kindling alit. Considering the quality and quantity of the fuel source it wouldn't be a large one or last long, but they didn’t need it to.

Velma settled quietly on a log bench next to Marcie. She wasn’t sure where to begin. This wasn’t like laying out the solution to a mystery or a scientific experiment, which she could naturally explain right off the cuff. She had tried preparing a speech like she had when asking Shaggy out, but everything sounded stilted and over prepared. Emotions were messy, complicated, and hard to explain. The worst part though was that even if she could give the most persuasive argument for why Marcie should date her, it wouldn’t make a difference if Marcie wasn’t already interested. While Velma thought she felt the same way, she wouldn’t know for sure until she laid her emotions bare. That was the scary part.

“Velma, what’s wrong?” Marcie asked, laying a hand on her wrist. Clearly Velma’s brooding had gone on long enough to make her concerned.

“I like you,” Velma finally said. “A lot, far more than I ever thought I would, though I admit I’ve wanted to be friends ever since your experiment with the radio signals.”

“That was my first fair! You had that robotic dog and I knew I had to get to know its creator. Why didn’t we become friends then?”

“We got off on the wrong foot. I distinctly remember one of the judges telling me I had to be careful because you were trying to use your work to take control of Dogbot,” Velma said thoughtfully. “Thinking back, you didn’t have the equipment to do that at the time. I don’t know if he thought it would be amusing to pit us against each other or if that was his attempt to spark a rivalry that would bring out better results.”

“What a tool!” Marcie gasped. “Well screw him. I’m glad we’re together now. Couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

“Is that all you want? To be friends?” Velma asked, biting her lower lip. “Because when I said I liked you I didn’t just mean platonically. I really like you, Marcie, far more than I have any other person and my body keeps reacting in absurdly unexpected ways when you smile or laugh. I-I keep having all of these Feelings, with a capital F, and I don’t know how to handle them because I’ve never experienced them before. Marcie, if you’re willing, I want to be more than friends. However, if you wish our friendship to remain platonic, I will of course respect that and work harder to manage my emotions.”

Marcie kissed her. Velma froze. After a moment Marcie pulled back. “Was that okay?”

“Jinkies, I was not expecting that,” Velma admitted, feeling a touch breathless.

“I’m sorry!” Marcie started to pull away, but Velma grabbed her upper arm.

“Wait, I just need a minute to process! While this is obviously the reaction I had hoped for, I genuinely expected you to shoot me down.”

“Okay,” Marcie said. She bit her upper lip, which she did when she was nervous.

“Are you serious?” Velma finally asked.

“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I wasn’t.”

“And this isn’t part of some convoluted revenge plan to get back at me for years of science fairs?” She wanted to cover all her bases before embarking on a new relationship.

“Of course not!” Marcie snapped, jerking her arm away as she stood up to create some distance. “How could you even suggest that?”

“I primarily spend my time deconstructing overly complex white collar crimes reliant on costumery and superstition,” Velma explained. She had never felt so helpless outside of a monster’s clutches before. “And even more time counteracting absurd revenge schemes. Can you really blame me for being suspicious?”

“Yes!”

“Well, I’m sorry but I can’t help it,” Velma snapped. “We’ve spent years at each other’s throats and the first summer I’ve been on my own since we met you suddenly want to be friends. Then I catch feelings for you and you somehow return them? Forgive me for being skeptical.”

“If you can’t handle people being attracted to you, that’s a you problem, not a me problem!” Marcie scowled. “I wish I hadn’t kissed you!”

“I wish you hadn’t either!” Velma shot back. Her eyes felt hot; some of the smoke from the fire must have gotten in them. If Marcie didn’t want to kiss her, she didn’t want to be kissed by her either. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop her from wanting to kiss Marcie herself.

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Marcie grabbed her blanket and stomped away. Velma crossed her arms and glared at the fire. Unlike certain others in the general vicinity, she recognized the responsibility they had undertaken upon lighting their bonfire. She couldn’t leave it unattended until she was utterly certain it was extinguished. Otherwise she would have gone to march off her anger as well.

At least watching the flames consume the twigs their fire primarily consisted of proved equally cathartic. Velma felt her temper cool and by the time the fire was left smoldering she knew she owed Marcie an apology. She had known the other girl for years. Even if they had only gotten close recently, she entered into their friendship knowing Marcie had strict scientific morals and her own sense of honor. She wouldn’t play some sort of convoluted double agent long con, not to sell out a friend, and if she would, then Marcie would have no compunction lying to her about it. Velma had to believe they really were friends; there was no way Marcie could fake the level of enjoyment she had when they hung out together, not for hours on end.

When the fire was down to just embers Velma used a takeout container to douse them with seawater. She kicked through the cinders, looking for any light, and then dumped another round of seawater for good measure. She’d do what she could to prevent unintended fires. Once she was sure the fire was out Velma collected the last of their trash and headed to the parking lot. She wasn’t sure where Marcie was, but figured she’d eventually return to her car.

When she reached the lot a new problem arose: Marcie’s car was nowhere to be seen. The lot was completely empty. It was a little hard to see with only a waxing crescent in the sky, but after slowly turning in a circle Velma was confident she was the only person around for miles. Marcie had ditched her. The ready apology on her lips shriveled up and flaked away. This was a far greater insult than double checking that your almost girlfriend wasn’t planning to secretly backstab you in a few weeks. Velma angrily threw their trash in the lot’s metal can and swore.

Chapter Text

Velma called Angel to get her off the desolate beach. In some ways it would have made more sense to call her parents, but that also meant explaining what had happened and she couldn’t bear the thought. When Angel arrived she took one look at Velma’s tear streaked face and handed over her spare helmet before taking her back to K-Ghoul. It was rare, but all of Mystery Incorporated had spent the night on the radio station’s couch at one point or another. Angel didn’t mind as long as they stayed out of the sound booth and refrained from breaking anything.

So Velma wrapped herself up in the fake tiger skin rug and cried herself to sleep. It had taken Angel almost forty minutes to come pick her up and there had been no sign of Marcie in the interim. She had really screwed things up there. The worst part was Velma still didn’t think her question had been that out of line, though she understood how it could have hurt Marcie. Considering her reaction, it was better to know now before she got invested. Velma hoped stranding her would be the extent of Marcie’s revenge.

Velma woke the next morning with a stiff neck and still in her glasses. There were several texts and a voicemail from Marcie along with a couple of messages from Angie. Velma replied to her mother, letting her know that she was safe and where she was, but ignored the rest. In fact, she went as far as to block Marcie’s number again just so that she wouldn’t be tempted to read her messages in a moment of weakness. Velma wasn’t great at keeping grudges without constant vigilance and she had a habit of wallowing when she felt miserable, so it was best to remove temptations.

She spent three days pointedly ignoring Marcie. That primarily consisted of her hiding at home or at K-Ghoul, places she knew Marcie would avoid. She also made it clear to her parents she wasn’t entertaining visitors under any circumstances and had taken to crawling under her bed when she heard Angie unlocking her door. Yes, these measures might seem a touch extreme, but they were giving her time to process and catch up on her reading.

“Velma, I know you said no visitors,” Angie called late in the morning of the fourth day. Velma wiggled her way under her bed, expecting eminent intrusion.

“No exceptions!” Velma shouted back.

“Not even for Fred?”

Velma blew out of her room past her mother and ran down the stairs. She paused on the final step to take in that yes, Fred was standing in her living room. He smiled that blandly benign smile of his and waved a hand.

“Hey Velma,” Fred said.

Velma wasn’t sure who was more surprised when she launched herself across the room to hug him tight. Honestly, it was embarrassing that she did it in the first place, he had only been gone for roughly two months, but it took her a solid minute to pry her arms off. Fred did hug her back in that awkwardly delicate way of his like he was worried that if he applied any pressure he’d accidentally crush her.

“Sorry,” Velma apologized when she released him. “I guess I missed you.”

“I guess,” Fred laughed. He spun his car keys on a finger. “You ready to go?”

They spent the rest of the week going over the Mystery Machine with a fine toothcomb. Fred liked to do this whenever he had been separated from his van and Velma was glad for the work. It kept her mind off more painful subjects. Conversation consisted primarily of shoptalk with the occasional reference to a trap Fred had tried at camp. That was one of the good things about Fred; his inquiries into what Velma had spent the last two months doing started and ended with asking if she had gotten her license.

That’s not to say Velma didn’t want to talk about her Marcie related feelings… just, not with Fred. He was still getting comfortable with the idea of liking multiple things at once. She’d fry his brain if she tried to make him grasp the concept of having many wildly different feelings about one person and everything she affected. For that Velma needed Daphne.

She got Daphne the day after they finished their mechanical inspection. Velma and Fred went to pick her up from the airport because the Blakes were all too busy and their butler was on holiday. There she hugged and cried on Daphne when it was her turn to greet her, which told both of them Velma’s emotions were out of whack. Unfortunately there wasn’t time to discuss them because as soon as Fred stowed the last of Daphne’s suitcases he announced it was time to go pick up Shaggy and Scooby.

To be fair, the plan had always been to retrieve them once Daphne was back in town. She could host them in her pool house until the Rogers were willing to let Shaggy and Scooby come home. However, Velma had thought they’d have a little more grace time than five minutes between Daphne’s arrival and their departure. She hadn’t even brought an overnight bag, to which Fred scoffed that she didn’t need one for a mere twelve hour round trip.

As much as she complained about the drive, Velma felt something right click into place when Scooby and Shaggy climbed into the back of the Mystery Machine. The gang was complete again and right where they belonged. It took a little while for Fred to figure out how to get home, but once they were cruising on the highway and didn’t need Velma to navigate she poked her head in back.

“How was spending the summer with your uncle?” Velma asked. “Did you ever leave the mansion to do anything cool in Silicon Valley?”

“Like, Uncle Albert was gone most of the time,” Shaggy said, scratching his chin in recollection. “We did learn a lot of new Scooby snack recipes though.”

“Lots of snacks,” Scooby agreed, licking his chops.

Velma snorted in amusement and shook her head as she twisted back around to sit properly. They were still exactly the same. She was glad some things never changed. She stared out the window and organized her thoughts as best she could. Knowing Fred, he’d have them mystery solving the moment they got back to town and she wanted to get through the almost solved ones as efficiently as possible. Just as she was debating with herself whether they should sort out the Purple People Eater or the Lobster Lady first, a familiar outline reflected in the passenger window caught her eye.

Velma whipped around, startled to only see Fred and Daphne beside her. The latter gave her a questioning look. Velma responded with a sheepish smile before returning her gaze to the scenery. Of course she had just seen Daphne, there wasn’t room for anyone else there in the front seat of the Mystery Machine, and even if the hair had looked awfully brown, it was still just a reflection. It was funny how she had gotten used to that change, but that didn’t matter anymore.

In less than a day upon their return Mystery Incorporated had sorted out all the cases Velma had essentially already solved and had half a dozen spooks running scared. They probably could have gotten through more, but Sherriff Stone had them locked up for three hours until Daphne’s solicitor was able to prove they had caught the Cave Menace on Blake property and therefore they weren’t trespassing. It felt like old times.

After their release the gang decided to follow their lawyer’s suggestion and retired for the evening. They had solved more than enough mysteries for one day and Velma had a mass of casework to catch up on, which was always the byproduct of their efforts. This time she found herself doing it from a chaise lounge by the Blake family pool. The guys were all in the pool playing with a beach ball while Daphne lay on the chair beside her. If Velma were in her shoes she’d be in the pool with the others, but Daphne demurred on the grounds she didn’t want to deal with drying her hair afterward. As Daphne’s hair was three times longer than hers had ever been, Velma couldn’t contest this reason and the boys didn’t bother.

Velma was allowed to finish her write up of the first case before Daphne spoke. She had clearly waited long enough for Velma to relax some and for the boys to get engrossed in their game. She must have wanted a low stakes private conversation, but that may have been more for Velma’s benefit than her own.

“Okay spill. What’s going on with you, Velma?” Daphne hissed. “You’re acting off. Mopey. I know there hasn’t been a lot of time, but you haven’t said a word about—”

“Please don’t say her name,” Velma cut her off, setting down her pen. She couldn’t write and think about her unless she wanted to write about her.

“Jeepers, that bad, huh?” Daphne said. She leaned back and thoughtfully rubbed her chin. “From the way you wrote about her I thought you two would have dated longer than this.”

“We… never really started dating,” Velma admitted. She felt foolish saying that, but it was true. Why was she so pathetic as to feel this upset about someone she never actually dated?

“Oh?”

“Mutual interest wasn’t confirmed until the night everything blew up in my face.”

“But it was confirmed?”

“Technically yes? But then she immediately revoked it and I don’t think she’s interested anymore.” With more force than she ought to use Velma shoved her paperwork in her bag. She’d deal with it in the morning. “I shouldn’t be interested anymore.”

“But you are.”

Velma gave her a long-suffering look. Daphne smiled sheepishly, aware that was not the right question to have asked. She was the one with expert interpersonal skills in the group.

“So how are you feeling? Daphne asked instead.

“How can I feel so bad about a not break up if we never even dated?” Velma whined, putting her face in her hands. “Or do you think we dated?”

“For it to really be dating you both have to know it’s happening,” Daphne said decisively. She deflated and leaned her head on Velma’s shoulder. “I learned that the hard way.”

“I know,” Velma said, patting her friend’s shoulder awkwardly. She wasn’t certain she could handle another round of comforting Daphne over Fred at the moment. Daphne also seemed to feel this wasn’t the time or the place for a pity party because she soon sat up straight and took a deep breath.

“Focus Daph, now is not the time to mope about Freddie,” Daphne said, clapping her hands to her cheeks. “Right now it’s time to examine Velma’s love flubs, not yours.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly describe it as a love flub,” Velma protested. “It was more of a… more of a…”

Daphne shifted onto Velma’s chair and pulled her into a hug. She shushed Velma when she tried to finish her sentence because they both knew there wasn’t an end that wasn’t a lie. Velma didn’t lie to her friends.

“I’m proud of you, Velma,” Daphne said quietly. They both watched as Shaggy and Fred chased Scooby, who had the beach ball. “You figured out something important about yourself and went after it all on your own, despite the fact feelings aren’t easy for you.”

“But I failed, Daph.”

“Doesn’t matter. You tried and I’m proud of you,” Daphne insisted. At this Velma squeezed her eyes shut and tightly returned the hug. “Now that you’ve got your support system back, rely on us. Let us help you get your girl, Velma.”

“What?” Velma asked, confused but hopeful. “How?”

“Well first we need a trap.”

The moment that final word left Daphne’s lips Fred’s head whipped around to look at them, game completely forgotten. She hadn’t remembered how easily he could pick out that word. Obviously, Daphne had, which is why she had used it in the first place. With the pair of them already in on this plan, Shaggy and Scooby would follow as well, as they did with any peer pressure even when it led them into danger. Velma could probably fight it, maybe even stop them, but part of her didn’t want her to. Part of her hoped they could actually fix this. So she threw up her hands and went with the flow.

One of the less interesting mysteries plaguing Crystal Cove was the Decapitated Teen Ghost. He had been haunting Creepy Spooky Terror Land for a few weeks and had supposedly died there on the Dark Lilith’s Flight ride via decapitation due to park negligence. Now that ten years had passed, he had risen from the grave to bring the park to ruin for his demise. At least, this was the story according to a legend Velma had never heard before the ghost’s initial appearance. It also happened to be utter bunk.

Considering the original incident allegedly occurred ten years ago Velma would have remembered it. She had always been a morbid child. Even if she didn’t recall it she would have found records of it either in the locals papers, sheriff reports, or else with the California Department of Safety and Health, as all major incidents were required to be reported. Velma had combed through all the files and the last California amusement park decapitation had occurred back in ’84 on Disneyland’s Matterhorn. There weren’t even any teen deaths recorded in Crystal Cove for that summer, much less decapitation. Also, common sense dictated that if it had really happened the park would be no more, as the teen's family would have sued the Fleaches out of business.

Velma was certain this ghost was a fake with a grudge against the park. She had hoped to investigate this mystery with Marcie once they started dating, but that plan had derailed worse than any ride ever had at Creepy Spooky Terror Land. She knew because she had read every incident report in the park’s sixty-three year history. It was important to know whom she theoretically wanted to get into bed with and Velma didn’t cut corners.

As Velma had done the initial groundwork for the mystery she filled the gang in as Fred drove them to the park. She felt a pang upon walking through the admissions gate; it felt too soon to already be breaking her promise to herself not to visit without Marcie. On the other hand, she was probably already in the park and they could bump into one another. She wasn’t sure which option she preferred, even if Daphne insisted they take this mystery so that they could see her again.

“Alright gang, let’s split up and search for clues,” Fred announced once he had gotten ahold of a stack of park maps. “Shag and Scoob, why don’t you start in that direction, while Daphne, Velma, and I go this way.”

“Like, okay Fred,” Shaggy said, already eyeing up a nearby nacho stand. “Spooky’s spooky anywhere we go.”

“Don’t just eat, investigate,” Daphne ordered.

“Right Daphne,” Scooby agreed, saluting. He and Shaggy wandered away.

Fred, Daphne, and Velma went the other direction looking for clues. One bumped into them in the form of Winslow Fleach. He nearly knocked Velma down and spat out an apology while he adjusted his tie to regain equilibrium.

“Velma? What a pleasant surprise,” Winslow greeted her. “Are you here to see Marcie? She’s been rather dour of late.”

“Does he mean Hot Dog Water?” Fred asked loudly. Daphne elbowed him in the gut. Hard, going by his grunt of pain.

“No, we’re here on business,” Velma said. “We know this ghost business is nonsense and we’re here to prove it.”

“I wish it were simply a ghost. Creepy Spooky Terror Land can host a pack of phantoms. No, it’s the suggestion that our rides are unsafe that’s the real killer,” Winslow sighed. He gestured around them to prove his point. While there were still people in the park, it was far less busy than the last several times Velma had visited with Marcie. The ghost had an obvious effect.

“Dinkley? Let me handle this, Dad,” Marcie scowled as she approached.

“Of course. You girls are so smart. If anyone can solve this mystery you can,” Winslow said in a distracted manner. He patted Marcie’s shoulder and wandered away.

“Get out,” Marcie snapped.

“Your dad just gave us permission to solve this mystery,” Velma said. “Since he’s the owner, we’re taking his permission over your refusal.”

“Do what you want in the public areas, but I can’t let you wander around back of house. Our maintenance areas are way too dangerous if you don’t know where you’re going.”

“Then why don’t you and Velma search there?” Daphne suggested. “You both have the most experience, so it would be safest for you to search. Fred and I will continue checking this half of the public grounds.”

Velma stared at Daphne in horror. What was she doing? Why was she doing this? Velma couldn’t be alone with Marcie while they were still mad at each other. She was going to say the wrong thing and make everything worse.

“Fine, but only because I know you’ll sneak back there if I don’t and get yourselves injured, which will be a park liability,” Marcie snapped. She grabbed Velma’s hand and dragged her toward the nearest employees’ only gate.

‘Trust me,’ Daphne mouthed, giving her double thumbs up. Velma frantically shook her head.

Once they were out of sight Marcie dropped Velma’s hand and crossed her arms. Velma stood awkwardly beside her, wondering what she’d do next.

“Okay, get it over with,” Marcie growled.

“Get what over with?” Velma asked. “I can’t magic clues out of thin air. Sleuthing is enough like science you should at least know that.”

“No, I mean accuse me of being the Decapitated Teen Ghost!” Marcie scowled at her. “If you think our relationship was some sort of revenge scheme, why wouldn’t I sell out my own father?”

“Marcie, you are not the Decapitated Teen Ghost,” Velma said flatly. “What would your motive even be? Rollercoaster steel for super helium? As things stand you have a slow, but renewable supply, which you would lose if the park closed. You love this park, probably more than everything else in the world.”

“Not more than everything else.”

“Besides, I refuse to believe you’d be this sloppy with your origin story,” Velma barreled on, ignoring Marcie’s statement. “Only ten years ago? Pick sometime when the park kept poor records, though even your great grandfather kept a decent account. Plus this asshole picked Dark Lilith. That ride wasn’t even around ten years ago!”

“I know, right? I designed it!” Marcie exploded. Her tone matched Velma’s, as neither could believe how little effort this spook put into his cover story.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, when I was nine. It arose from some of Mom’s old stories. Sure, Dad made the ride a reality by carefully going over my plans to ensure they were mechanically safe and physically possible, but Dark Lilith is mine.” Marcie turned to face the direction in which her rollercoaster stood and bared her teeth proudly. “This is my park and I’m not letting any ghost besmirch its good name.”

“If you let us help, Mystery Incorporated will catch this guy,” Velma said softly, placing a hand on Marcie’s shoulder. Marcie shrugged it off.

“If I don’t let you, you’ll ditch me to solve it with them.”

“Hey, you don’t get to complain about ditching! You set the initial terms of our arrangement and were fully aware of its limited nature. I wanted to alter it into something more permanent before you ditched me. If you hadn’t, we would have caught this ghost before even Fred returned. You acted so wounded when I suggested you kissed me out of spite, but look what we’re doing right now, Marcie! We’re hunting a fake phantom, who’s running a convoluted scheme against your park. His motive is almost certainly financially based and barring that it’s revenge for some perceived slight. This is my life, Marcie, this is why I had to ask!”

Marcie opened her mouth and shut it. Clearly, she wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

“Does your pride or the park matter more?”

They got to work. Neither one talked unless it was necessary. That was for the best, as Velma wasn’t over her outburst, and allowed her to focus on looking for anything unusual. Honestly, there wasn’t much as the maintenance areas looked like business as usual. Marcie didn’t seem to notice anything weird either. They methodically made their way through paths and warehouses for almost two hours before Velma finally spotted something.

“Hey, what’s that?” Velma asked, pointing toward an outer fence. After Marcie checked that the location wasn’t in one of the danger locations near the rides they approached. “Looks like someone cut a hole through the fence.”

“Was this just trespassers trying to sneak in or is this something more nefarious?” Marcie asked. She glared at the cut wire like it was its fault it couldn’t stand up to bolt cutters. “In any case I’ll have to patch it.”

“From the luminescent grease on some of the wires, I’d say this is how our ghost is getting in,” Velma said, upon completing her examination. She took some photos with her phone as well, just in case, and then slipped. “Ouch!”

“You okay?” Marcie squatted beside her. “Oh gross, an O’Greazy bucket got you. What do you think was even in this one, slime?”

“Shag and Scoob could tell you by scent alone,” Velma said. She noticed Marcie’s frown. “What’s wrong?”

“There shouldn’t be any O’Greazy buckets on the property. We don’t allow outside food in the park and Dad specifically banned O’Greazy after their visit. Our staff isn’t the best or the brightest bunch in the world, but no one would risk their job bringing fast food trash into the grounds. Salaries here start noticeably above minimum wage.”

That sounded like a clue. Velma photographed and bagged it. She texted both clues to the gang’s group chat and briefly skimmed the other’s submissions. For example, Shaggy had found a park map with the rides renamed and drawn over in a food theme. However, before she could figure out what it meant she heard a howling shriek. While there were a lot of different screams at a horror themed amusement park, they typically weren’t ones of anger. This one was.

Velma looked toward the noise. Twenty feet away stood a glowing figure without a head. It was a tall person, even without a head, but oddly stooped so that Velma could see the neck stump in all its glory. Whoever had created the prop did a great job creating a neck cross-section and even had it oozing ectoplasm. However, she had seen far grosser things mystery solving, so this barely fazed her. Still, the monster had appeared and time honored traditions were to be upheld.

“Run,” Velma said after firing off a text about her spook sighting.

“Why?” Marcie asked. “There’s two of us and one of him. Surely we could take him.”

“Perhaps, but anyone willing to dress up and pretend to be a ghost is equally likely to be armed and willing to use their weapon if the scaring doesn’t work. Also, I’m unsure if you’re aware, but I have no self-defense training. You want Daphne for that or Fred if boxing will do.”

“I see.”

“To reiterate. Run!”

They ran. Of course the Decapitated Teen Ghost chased them because creeps in costumes always did. Having a high prey drive seemed to be one of the basic requirements to participating in costumed crime. Luckily Velma was an excellent runner with ample experience escaping bad guys. Marcie wasn’t in as great of shape, but she knew every inch of this park better than anyone else, alive or dead. Unfortunately Marcie’s stamina gave out before they could build up enough of a lead to escape into a bolt hole.

She felt her phone buzz and pulled it out to check.

“Now is… not… the time!” Marcie panted.

“Can you get us to the Nauseator? Fred’s set a trap.”

Marcie said nothing, but she slightly picked up the pace. Four or six turns later—Velma was a little embarrassed that she lost count, but they had dodged around a lot of other stuff to make those turns—and she could see a clear path to an already open park entrance gate. That was suspicious. A flicker of Great Dane tail and Velma knew that the trap was at the liminal point. Now she just had to figure out how it was sprung before they reached it and inform Marcie without tipping off the Decapitated Teen Ghost.

As they got closer Velma caught a glimmer of reflection near the ground. She smiled. That could only be a tripwire and it was low enough to the ground that they could easily clear it without the spook catching on that he had to jump. She reached forward, tugging at Marcie’s shirt to get her attention.

That was a mistake. Marcie must have thought she was the ghost because she jump scared high enough to clear a knee level tripwire. She also twisted around to fend off her would be attacker and backhanded Velma across the face. It was a hard enough smack that if she had been running any more vertically she would have been sent tumbling backwards. Instead she was leaning forward enough it only caused her to jolt back a bit. Unfortunately, that was enough to lose her footing and she went crashing forward into Marcie, knocking them both down onto the tripwire.

As the wire bit into them Velma cursed. Before they even hit the ground coils of blue steel burst forth from below and rose up to meet them before hoisting them into the air. Their ascent didn’t end until they were well above the fence. As soon as they stopped rising Velma tested a nail on their enclosure and made a face.

“Why did Fred use an industrial steel net while trying to capture a single humanoid?” Velma grumbled. “Talk about overcompensating.”

“What just happened?” Marcie asked, twisting her head to look at Velma. She got on her hands and knees, scrambling into an upright-seated position mirroring the one Velma had already taken as the net gently swayed.

“We’ve been trapped,” Velma said, still examining the net. “Good god, this is a Blue Falcon net, twice as expensive as the generic with no significant improvements in quality according to Traps Illustrated.”

“You read Traps Illustrated?” Marcie snorted.

“For the articles. Fred’s subscription means there’s always gobs of them lying about and sometimes they’re the only thing available to read.”

“A likely story.”

“You’re taking being trapped remarkably well.”

“I’m still in shock that Velma Dinkley messed up and got us trapped. I’ll get over it to make fun of you soon enough. This net is remarkably comfortable.”

“Everything is still going according to plan, Fleach.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not! There’s a literal step called ‘the trap gets bungled and we have to improvise to catch the monster’ because this always happens. Despite Fred’s ingenious designs, or perhaps because of them, I can’t think of a single time we’ve ever pulled off a flawless capture. I mean, look at them,” Velma said, gesturing out of the net at the rest of the gang, “Do they look remotely rattled that we’re trapped instead of the Decapitated Teen Ghost?”

“No. Wait, did Shaggy and Scooby just shove the ghost’s neck stump into a cotton candy machine? That’s a serious health code violation.”

“Even they aren’t going to want to eat it off him later.”

“Why are they wearing park uniforms? They don’t have permission to wear those. Someone might actually believe they work here.”

“The ghost certainly did. That’s probably how they got him in it in the first place. Oh, Scooby’s handing him a mirror. I bet they offered him some sort of makeover to get him to comply.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Yeah, but usually it happens before someone gets trapped.”

“You guys are so weird,” Marcie said, knocking their shoulders together. That set the net swaying again.

“Ope, now the ghost is angry. Must not like what he saw in the mirror. Can’t say I blame him. He’s not the ugliest specter I’ve ever seen, but that’s not saying much when we’ve faced sentient tar.”

“Sick burn, V.”

“Looks like Daphne’s getting tired of the charade.”

“Woah, that was a seriously high kick. She sent him flying. I’d have to take a couple of points off that performance though, since she stumbled a little on the finish. How did she manage that?”

“Daphne may be danger prone, but I wasn’t kidding when I said she can fight. She’s got a black belt in karate.”

“Huh, the more you know. Wait, where did the ghost go? Don’t tell me he got away.”

“Naw, follow the flight path from the kick,” Velma said, pointing.

The Decapitated Teen Ghost had in fact landed in an open seat on the Nauseator and Fred locked him in after commandeering the ride controls from a bored employee. As the ride was designed to keep people restrained while moving at high speeds and in rapidly changing directions, there was no way to be released without a staff override. Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen until the authorities arrived. The ghost was shouting, cursing, and sounding far less undead than he previously had. Mystery incorporated ignored him in favor of getting Velma and Marcie free of the net. Then they called Sheriff Stone and Winslow Fleach.

Once everyone was assembled Velma rubbed her hands in glee. The unmasking and explanation was always her favorite part. She loved it when her suspicions were confirmed. While she was less confident about this case than she was most of the time, she thought she had a pretty good hunch who it was this time.

“I can’t believe you actually caught the ghost,” Winslow said. He took off his glasses, cleaned them, and put them back on his face to blink at the Decapitated Teen Ghost like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“I know. These little menaces are harassing a perfectly innocent ghost in its natural habitat,” Sheriff Stone groused. “Where else are you supposed to find a ghost than Creepy Spooky Terror Land? They’re practically scenery here. Good for business and good for tourism.”

“That particular ghost is not good for business. I’d like to know who has been messing with my park.”

“Would you like to do the honors, Marcie?” Velma offered, gesturing toward the captured criminal. “It’s your family park and your first mystery, so it seems only fair?”

“I’d be delighted,” Marcie smirked. With a perverse glee she grabbed onto the neck stump and yanked until it pulled off revealing a young brunet man with a receding hairline. Velma’s lips curled as Marcie’s eyes narrowed. “Al O’Greazy Jr.”

“Like, as in O’Greazys?” Shaggy asked. “I love their, like, Bucket O’ Nachos.”

“Bucket O’ Scooby Snax,” Scooby chimed in.

“Their Bucket O’ Brisket isn’t as good as my homemade brisket, but it’ll do in a pinch,” Sheriff Stone said. “Now why is the O’Greazy heir creeping about in a ghost suit?”

“Financial revenge,” Velma said. “Mr. Fleach refused to sell to his father, nor did he allow them to sell their food at the park. The Decapitated Teen Ghost was concocted with as much care as they put into any of their bucket meals to drive Creepy Spooky Terror Land out of business. Then they could buy it at a discount and turn it into O’Greazy Land with food themed rides and Bucket O’ Whatever for sale as far as the eye could see.”

“That seems like a lot of supposition from just an O’Greazy bucket,” Marcie whispered to Velma. “Or did you find more evidence?”

“Only a little more, but you laid out their personal vendetta with you a month or so ago,” Velma retorted, equally quiet, as Fred explained to the adults how some of O’Greazy Jr.’s phantom fake outs worked. “Honestly, the case wasn’t that hard because there weren’t any other suspects. Everyone seems to like your dad and it’s been six years since he last fired someone.”

“I’m a little alarmed you know that,” Marcie said. “Our employment files are supposed to be confidential.”

“Beef up your cyber security,” Velma shrugged.

“You’re baiting me. I will not rise to such heavy handed and obvious taunting.”

“Be happy I steered clear of your personal files. I never seriously considered you a suspect. I need you to know that, considering the circumstances.”

“I did come back for you. That night,” Marcie blurted out. “But you were gone by the time I got back. I looked for you and texted to see if you were home safe.”

“I was alone for almost an hour,” Velma said flatly. “Likely longer than that since I didn’t see you leave.”

“I was gone for a little over two. Driving mostly. I’m sorry. I’ve missed you. I missed us.”

“I would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for you meddling kids!” howled Al O’Greazy Jr. as Sheriff Stone snapped on the cuffs. “And that damned Great Dane!”

“Expect a civil suit on top of the criminal one, O’Greazy!” Marcie shouted as he was led away. “No one messes with Creepy Spooky Terror Land!”

“Thank you, kids, so much,” Winslow said. “I’ll see to it that you all get admission passes for the next season with complimentary concessions.”

“Now you’re in for it,” Daphne laughed as Shaggy and Scooby both started salivating.

Winslow shook each of their hands, including Marcie’s, before heading over to the Nauseator ride controls to see about getting it operational again. Marcie wrapped her arms around herself and turned to face Mystery Incorporated.

“I’ll see to it that he follows through,” Marcie promised. “Thank you for helping my park. I guess this is where we part ways, huh V?”

“Did you like mystery solving?” Velma asked.

“I guess? It was certainly different.”

“Would you like to do it again? Maybe on a semi-regular basis?” Velma offered. She turned briefly to the gang imploringly. “Guys?”

“It’s cool with us,” Shaggy said, laying an arm around Scooby’s shoulders as they both nodded. “Hot Dog Water can ride in back with us.”

“She smells great,” Scooby said.

“Six people,” Fred frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not sure how well the traps will work with six people when I’ve designed them all for five.”

“Couldn’t you redesign some of them, Freddie?” Daphne suggested. “Or else pretend Velma sometimes has four hands? I’m sure Marcie will stick close to her.”

“Yes, that could work,” Fred smiled. Velma didn’t know if he was referring to the redesign or the four hands thing. She didn’t care.

“Please Marcie?” Velma asked, holding out a hand. “I don’t want this to just be a summer thing. Not when I feel like we’re on the precipice of a breakthrough.”

“I would love nothing more,” Marcie said, taking her hand and smiling.

Velma grinned back then leaned in and kissed her.

Chapter Text

A familiarly shaped shadow falling across her pages caused Velma to look up from her book. She turned her head and smiled fondly at Marcie, who had leaned her upper body into the front seat.

“Yes, Marcie?” Velma said.

“Are you going to read the entire way there?” Marcie asked.

“There’s a high probability of it, though that becomes less and less likely every time you interrupt me,” Velma said. It was hard for her to grasp, but she wasn’t minding Marcie’s repeated interruptions. Normally she’d be shouting at the person to leave her alone by now. Liking someone really did change things. “Do you have difficulty reading in moving vehicles?”

Marcie shook her head and grinned. “I’m too excited to read right now. We’re really going to the Burlington Library!”

Velma laughed at her enthusiasm. She couldn’t argue with that. It had taken until the final weekend in August, but Mystery Incorporated was on its way to the Burlington Library with Marcie in tow for their first group outing. Velma did not consider the mystery at the park to be their first, as they met up with Marcie there and she was technically a suspect briefly, no matter how unlikely that outcome was.

So this trip to the Burlington Library was kind of a big deal. Especially combined with the fact that tomorrow was Fred’s eighteenth birthday. They had already reserved two rooms for an overnight stay so they could have a fun party and still be there when a special traveling collection of ancient traps opened to the public first thing the next morning. That was the only thing Fred wanted to do for his big day and the gang wanted to provide it for him; Velma hoped it would take his mind off the fact Fred Jones Sr. was at a mayors’ conference in LA for the weekend.

“You should join us in back,” Marcie cajoled, squeezing Velma’s shoulder. “Shag, Scoob, and I have just started up a C&C game. We could use another party member. Interested?”

“I’ve never played Crypts and Creatures,” Velma said. She raised an eyebrow. “Daphne, haven’t you played before?”

“No, it was some weird homebrew of Dragons and Gnomes. Can’t remember how to play it anymore, but I loved my goblin fashion designer from that game so much,” Daphne said. She took the map off Velma’s lap. “I think you should give it a try. Go on, I’ll navigate if Freddie needs any help.”

So Velma crawled into the backseat and strapped herself in on some of the bench seating. Marcie took the seat beside her, while Shaggy and Scooby sat across a makeshift table from them. Since Velma had never played before they spent the rest of the drive to the library designing her character, a dwarf necromancer, and explaining basic gameplay so they’d be ready to start the game on the ride home.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at the library as Fred pulled up to the main entrance. As they clambered out of the van Velma could feel the gothic monstrosity looming over them. It felt distinctly unfriendly, despite the library’s mandate to be welcoming to the public at all times, and she now understood why there were rumors of the place being haunted. Certainly if she were a ghost Velma would rather haunt the Burlington Library over Creepy Spooky Terror Land. She idly wondered what the odds were that Mystery Incorporated would end up disproving a haunting during their stay. She hadn’t heard any recent rumors about spooks on the premises, but they had a habit of turning up when the gang was around.

They headed inside en masse. Velma looked around, excited to see if the reality matched the online photos. The first thing that registered was the immense height of the building interior. The foyer was even more grand than she had expected, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the front desk placed before the massive fireplace. A thin older woman with a prominent chin mole looked up from her magazine when they entered.

“May I help you?” she asked in a bored tone.

“Hi, Fred Jones Jr. here, we have a two room reservation,” Fred announced, tapping himself on the chest. “We also have tickets to see the trap collection and a van.”

“The Chiles collection is not viewable until tomorrow. No exceptions. Here is a marker for your van, display it on the dash when you park in our lot around back by the gazebo,” she said. She looked down on the rest of them as Fred headed back out to move the Mystery Machine. Velma noted a nametag that read ‘Dr. Fenk Head Librarian,’ which made her wonder why this woman was operating the front desk. “While the library itself is free and open to the public, our guest rooms do require a fee. Do you have funds or will you be sleeping in the stacks instead?”

“Did you seriously just ask a Blake if she had money?” Daphne laughed. She whipped out a lavender credit card and handed it over for the charges. “My father would challenge you to a duel—which he would lose, he’s not a fencer, but it’s the principle of the thing—if he heard you ask that.”

“Like, thanks, Daphne,” Shaggy said.

“Are you sure?” Marcie asked, as Daphne signed the receipt. “We can certainly help foot the bill.”

“Please don’t,” Daphne said, waving a dismissive hand. “My parents are constantly on my case about not spending enough every month. Daphne, your five brilliant older sisters never left money around going to waste. Why don’t you spend like they do? Trickle down economics doesn’t work if you don’t throw money about.”

“Trickle down economics doesn’t work,” Velma said. “That’s just a fact.”

“Try telling them that!” Daphne pleaded. She grabbed the room keys from Dr. Fenk and tossed a set to Shaggy. “Boys, these are your keys. Can you move Fred’s stuff as well?”

Scooby saluted and then made a beeline for the bags. Shaggy followed. Daphne turned to Velma and handed her the other set of keys.

“Can you check out our room?” Daphne asked. “I want to wait for Freddie.”

“No problem, Daph,” Velma said.

“Great. This sleepover is going to be so much fun. I’ll let you figure out the sleeping arrangements.” Then she wheeled away before Velma could respond.

As she trudged up the stairs with Marcie Velma pondered potential room configurations. The reservation was for three people in their room, but that was maddeningly vague at best. Did that suggest they had two beds? Two beds and a couch? One massive bed with or without a couch? Maybe they’d just have a handful of hammocks, though that seemed unlikely considering the Burlington Library’s general decoration scheme.

“Do you want to sleep with me?” Marcie suddenly asked.

“Excuse me?” Velma half shrieked. They had dated for barely three weeks. It was entirely too soon for this line of inquiry. Sure they were spending the night together, but Velma hadn’t even considered sex an option, much less a viable one.

“I mean, it’s cool if you don’t, but I’d like to sleep with you,” Marcie continued. “I won’t even take offense if you’d prefer to sleep with Daphne. I swear.”

“Is that so?” Velma said, fumbling with the keys to the room badly enough that she dropped them twice. Marcie picked them up the second time and unlocked the door.

“It’s okay,” Marcie smiled. “We’re still so new I just wanted you to know where I stand. FYI though, I am not sleeping with Daphne.”

“Why would you possibly sleep with Daphne?” Velma spluttered. “You’re my girlfriend.”

“What?” Marcie burst out cackling. “I meant sleeping arrangements. Get your mind out of the gutter, Dinkley!”

“Shut up,” Velma said, feeling extremely embarrassed. Of course that’s what she had meant. She stalked into the room as Marcie continued to derive amusement from her misunderstanding.

“Make me,” Marcie said, leaning over into her personal space.

So Velma did by pushing her down and kissing her. Over the last few weeks she had figured out this was a sure fire way of quieting Marcie. Also, it had the added benefit of being highly enjoyable for the both of them. Her fingers tangled in Marcie’s hair and she forgot if there was anything else she ought to be doing at the moment.

“Oh hey, there’s only one bed,” Daphne said.

Her voice startled Velma badly enough she launched herself backwards until her back hit a dresser. Marcie was panting lightly and looking at her gave rise to the word ‘ravished’ in Velma’s mind, which made no sense, as she hadn’t gotten anywhere close to ravishing her. Even if that little voice in the back of her head suggested that wouldn’t be a bad idea to try.

“You gals know I’m totally cool with you getting your whatever on, just maybe not in the bed we’re all sharing until after I’m done with it,” Daphne said.

“We weren’t about to do anything,” Velma insisted.

“Sure you weren’t,” Daphne said gamely. She clearly didn’t believe her in the slightest. “I’m not going to be stuck in the middle of the bed as a buffer, am I?”

“We can behave ourselves,” Marcie promised. She smirked and Velma felt her stomach backflip. “Right V?”

“Of course,” Velma agreed, licking her lips.

She was saved from further mortification when Fred stuck his head into their room and announced dinner was ready. By the time Velma reached the dining hall Shaggy and Scooby were already halfway through their first course. She took her place at the table between Marcie and a muscular redheaded man with a heart tattoo on his deltoid. Dinner was a pleasant affair where the gang mostly listened to Fred wax poetic about what he thought might be in the trap collection. Some of his comments inspired derision from the nearby stranger and near the end of the meal he finally voiced his complaints.

“There’s no way the collection is half as impressive as you’re making it out to be, Freddie-Boy,” he snorted. “This collection is just a mishmash put together by a rich couple with more money than skill in the field.”

“The Chiles are a very well known trapping duo,” Fred insisted. “They’ve been featured in Trapper’s Monthly dozens of times and have more front cover appearances for Traps Illustrated than any other trapping organization.”

“That’s because they’re photogenic. A real trapper can make do with just a fishing line, a beach ball, and a bucket of buttons to catch their quarry,” he insisted, elbowing the man in an ascot next to him. “Isn’t that right, Rung?”

“Leave me out of this, Red,” Rung scowled, focusing his attention on the last of his meal. He nearly stabbed Scooby’s tail when the Great Dane tried to swipe his souvlakia.

“A fisherman’s bait is an excellent trap, but it’s so limited in its applications,” Fred said. He apparently recognized whatever trap Red had been referencing. “I’m sure that old standby will be featured in the collection, but variety is the spice of life and traps! You should come see the collection with us tomorrow.”

“Why not see it right now?” Red demanded, getting to his feet. “Only squares wait for permission.”

“Fine,” Fred agreed, rising from his seat.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Velma said.

“We’re square,” Scooby said before dumping a plate of uneaten bread rolls down his gullet.

“Like, the squarest,” Shaggy agreed, grabbing a forlorn halibut. He popped the entire fish in his mouth and pulled out a complete skeleton a minute later. Marcie stared in fascination.

“How did he do that?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” Velma whispered back.

“Hey, it’s not like we’re going to be breaking and entering,” Red said. “So are you guys coming or are you chicken?”

Shaggy and Scooby both clucked several times before falling on the next course that the strange little chief had served. Velma and Daphne also rose, but Marcie stayed seated. She rivetedly watched them consume.

“Go on ahead,” Marcie said, shooing Velma away. “I need to observe this. I don’t know how they’re doing it, but I think they’re instantly converting matter to energy. They don’t even seem to digest!”

If Marcie could be entertained by that Velma wouldn’t ruin her fun. She followed the others down to the basement where the traveling collection was to be displayed. Once there Fred tried the door handle, which was locked. He shook it harder. It was still locked. So Red tried the door and nearly ripped the handle off. The door held firm. Daphne crossed her arms and Velma found herself mirroring her behavior. Neither of them tried the door.

“Are we done here?” Velma asked. “The collection opens tomorrow and I’d like to explore the stacks before bed.”

“We’re not done yet,” Red growled. He produced a set of lock picks from his denim jacket.

“Fred Jones Jr., enough is enough! We are not breaking into an ancient trap collection simply to see it twelve hours sooner than we otherwise would!” Daphne shouted, stamping her foot. There was a crashing noise from the other side of the door. Velma realized someone must be in there making final preparations and had overheard them. “You’re about to turn eighteen and don’t need breaking and entering for something so inconsequential on your record!”

“Sorry Daph,” Fred apologized, scratching the back of his head. He nodded at Red. “I guess we’ve got to bow out. After all, we’ll see it tomorrow.”

“Seriously?” Red demanded, stowing his lock picks.

“Yep,” Daphne said and frog marched Fred back to the main level.

They collected the other half of the group from the dining hall. Then Velma and Marcie spent several delightful hours wandering through the stacks. Whenever a book caught their interest they’d pause to pull it out and skim through its contents. Several of them contained topics she wanted to explore in greater detail and they soon had a stack of tomes on their hands. It was a laid back and haphazard journey through the collection, nothing like Velma’s usual methods for conquering a new archive, but they were just trying to get a feel for the library tonight. If Marcie had a secondary goal of feeling what was under Velma’s turtleneck while they were by the statue of Mr. Peaches the orangutan… well, that nobody’s business but Velma’s.

Eventually they returned to their room, arriving just in time to see Daphne kiss Fred on the cheek as she said goodnight. The door clicked shut with a certain finality behind them.

“Does that mean you two are officially dating or are you two still figuring things out?” Velma asked.

“Wait a minute, I thought they’ve been dating since sophomore year,” Marcie said. “Everyone at school has.”

“It’s complicated,” Daphne said before rushing into the bathroom to change.

“That would be a no,” Velma translated.

“What the heck?” Marcie said, stunned.

“Daphne’s made her feelings as clear as she possibly can and Fred’s handling that confession about as well as Windows 10 can manage basic tasks.”

“But that’s…”

“Every time he tries to process it his brain crashes and needs a reboot,” Velma explained. “He’s at least able to admit that it’s possible to like multiple things at once, for example traps and the Mystery Machine, but I don’t know if he truly believes it yet. After all, Daphne is very different from traps or the Mystery Machine.”

“Does Fred even feel romantic attraction?”

“It’s hard to tell, actually,” Velma admitted, crossing her arms thoughtfully. “Sometimes he doesn’t seem to care if other guys show interest in Daphne, but he’s also been jealous if she’s shown interest in dudes. So I think so. His long term plans definitely have us all living together.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Short term yes,” Velma bit her lower lip. “Longer term, tell me how big the property is. I need personal space and privacy even from the gang.”

I get that. We all need a safe place to retreat to as needed.”

Once Daphne was out of the bathroom Velma and Marcie each had a turn to get ready for bed. Then the trio climbed into bed with Velma getting stuck in the middle. It made sense unfortunately, as she was the smallest and knew the others best, but getting squashed in the middle was still unpleasant. Marcie grinned at her as her hand sought out Velma’s, which did ameliorated the situation. Velma was about to ask what had made Marcie so happy until she realized it was herself. Marcie was genuinely happy to be at Velma’s side. She was glad the lighting was poor enough to hide her blush.

Just as Velma had reached that half dozing state she usually entered before truly falling asleep there was a loud crash that sent all three girls bolt upright in bed. Something was afoot. Before she had even processed the situation Velma and Daphne were out of bed, grabbing flashlights, and slipping into their slippers.

“Are you seriously going to investigate?” Marcie asked.

“Of course,” Velma said, checking her flashlight.

“You can stay here if you want,” Daphne offered.

“No, I’ll come with. Better than being alone,” Marcie said, getting up to follow them.

They met the boys in the hall. Fred naturally took the lead as they began a group advance. Velma fell to the rear alongside Marcie. After inching down the hallway they entered into a common room with some reference shelving. At first Velma noticed nothing out of place, but then she spotted what looked like a giant wooden box by a bank of windows. A leg protruded from the box and waggled comically.

“That’s a grinder’s gambit, if I’m not mistaken,” Fred said. He strode toward the box. “Can’t be certain until we see the victim’s hands.”

“Like, why would that matter?” Shaggy asked.

“Why, to see if cymbals were attached,” Fred said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He half turned to face them as he continued toward the trap. “You see, the cymbals make it a grinder’s gambit because it suggests a monkey in the organ grinder. Otherwise it’s the more mundane—”

The rest of Fred’s sentence was lost as another trap attacked. He was abruptly yanked to the ceiling and then thrown over a bookcase. Velma couldn’t see his landing, but she heard a wet splash upon impact.

“Fred?” Daphne called.

“I’m okay!” Fred shouted. “Landed in a meringue pie. I didn’t see what caught me, but I think this is a modified baker’s crème. Be careful in the room! I think there are traps surrounding the traps.”

Velma had already guessed that from the second trap. The gang carefully extracted Fred and what turned out to be Red then safely left the common room. To her amusement Red was wearing cymbals when they pulled him out of the music grinder.

“Clearly, there’s some trap enthusiast loose in the library who doesn’t care who they catch,” Velma said.

“I’d like to catch them instead,” Red growled, punching a fist into his other hand, “and put a world of hurt on ‘em.”

“You aren’t going to manage that without the right trap,” Fred mused. He was damp, but no longer covered in meringue or lemon filling. Scooby had taken care of that. “These are the work of an experienced trapper and a fisherman’s bait isn’t going to cut it.”

“You’re going to trap the trapper,” Daphne smiled.

“I’m going to trap the trapper,” Fred agreed, “if I can find them. So let’s split up, gang, and look for clues.”

“Whatever,” Red grumbled and stalked back the way they had come.

“We’ll start in the kitchen,” Shaggy said, wrapping an arm around Scooby’s shoulders. “Right Scoob?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Scooby agreed.

“Only if you also check the basement,” Daphne insisted. Scooby and Shaggy cringed, but agreed to those terms.

“Then we’ll start on the main floor, since we were exploring it earlier,” Velma said, gesturing to herself and Marcie. “We have the best chance of noticing if anything has changed.”

“Great. Daphne and I can clear the rest of the public areas on this floor and check out the third as well,” Fred said. “Call if you need a rescue.”

They parted ways after that, though Velma and Marcie stayed with Shaggy and Scooby until they stepped off the main staircase. Once they were out of earshot Marcie turned to Velma, who was already hunting for clues.

“Is this how your cases always start?” Marcie asked.

“Pretty much,” Velma replied. She frowned as she carefully shone her light across the carpet, looking for tripwires or pressure points. “Admittedly, we usually get menaced by a monster or at least hear rumors of one before the case starts, but we’ve gotten caught up in trap offs too.”

“Huh. It really is always like this for you.”

“Yeah… is that a problem?”

“Naw,” Marcie grinned. She grabbed Velma’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Let’s find some traps.”

They didn’t find any. In fact, the only thing their search of the general shelving turned up was that Rung fellow asleep at a table. When Velma peered at the materials surrounding him they all seemed to be business and finance texts. A few had something to do with marketing, while the one he was drooling on covered bankruptcy. They swept the area twice before concluding there weren’t any traps there.

“At this point we should check out the offices, storage areas, and kitchen to see if Shag and Scoob ever left,” Velma said.

“Do you really think they’ve moved on to the basement?”

“Not unless they’ve cleared out all the food.”

When they reached the kitchen it appeared to be devoid of life. Instead a thick red smoky haze filled the room. While it was never a good idea to go into colored gas, Velma was also worried the guys were trembling in the pantry inhaling the fumes. So she covered her face with her pajama top as best as she could before entering the room to check. Marcie did likewise and went straight to the windows, pushing them open to disperse the smoke.

Even with the additional circulation the haze was thick near the pantry door. Velma flung it open and peered inside. At first she didn’t see anything, but then a hulking grey figure appeared. It was an orangutan charging straight for her. Velma screamed and slammed the door shut. She didn’t even bother trying to hold the door in place, as she knew she was no match for a great ape, and instead ran. When she got close to Marcie she meant to grab her girlfriend’s hand, but her face twisted in terror and she took off before Velma could. She must have seen the orangutan too. Velma gave chase figuring even if they got lost they’d at least be lost together.

It wasn’t a particularly long chase, Marcie still didn’t have the stamina needed to run with Mystery Incorporated, but it ended outside. The wind was so strong that Velma nearly fell into a pond by the gazebo behind the mansion, but Marcie caught her just in time.

“Where did you come from?” Marcie asked, holding her steady. “You disappeared in the kitchen.”

“No I didn’t,” Velma protested. “I followed you from there. Did you see a living stone orangutan?”

“No,” Marcie said. “I got chased by a hobgoblin.”

“That’s weird,” Velma frowned, adjusting her glasses. Another gust of wind hit them and she felt better for it. Both of them had seen something strange, but neither of them had seen the same thing, which told her it wasn’t real or even an illusion. It also only happened after they entered the red smoke. “I think I know what happened to us, but we need to look at the exhibits in the general shelving to be sure. Are you okay going back inside?”

“It’s better than staying out here,” Marcie said. She shivered. “It’s cold and I’m more worried about cougars than hobgoblins. Let’s go test your hypothesis.”

They went inside and confirmed Velma’s suspicions. Then she called Fred and Daphne. It turned out they had been having the time of Fred’s life working their way through several ludicrous traps initially on the third floor, but the last twenty minutes had been spent untangling a Devil’s Snare that spanned the entire southern staircase. While Daphne wasn’t having fun, she also hadn’t seen anything weird like what Velma and Marcie experienced.

“I think we have two different events occurring simultaneously and that’s muddying the situation,” Velma said. “Let’s find Shaggy and Scooby, see what’s happened to them, and trap the mystery trapper.”

There were no objections to that plan, so they go to work. The last of the gang was located trembling in the supply closet under the basement stairs. Velma noted she had gotten their current state of mind correct, even if the location had been wrong. Their experiences were far more similar to Velma and Marcie’s than Fred and Daphne’s, but in their case the food started trying to eat them.

“It was, like, the worst experience of our lives,” Shaggy explained as he recounted their plight. Scooby clutched his tail and whimpered in agreement. Velma crouched down to examine the injury and frowned at the bite mark. Simply more evidence for what she and Marcie had figured out.

“What happened before the food attacked?” Marcie asked.

“Red complained that it was too cold, so I like, joked he should eat to warm up like we always do,” Shaggy laughed. “He said something about firewood and then, like, food attack!”

“Was it immediately after or did some time pass?” Velma asked.

“I dunno.” Shaggy scratched his chin. “Red holds my interest way less than my triple decker sandwich.”

Velma nodded. Turned out the guys did have a useful clue after all. She now knew how they got dosed and it wasn’t mysterious in the slightest.

“Is it trapping time?” Fred asked. He was eager, almost giddily bouncing from foot to foot. He also sported a black eye, which didn’t remotely match Daphne’s singed hair. Clearly not all the traps had been harmless. “I’ve got so many ideas!”

“And we know just the place you’re going to set it,” Marcie said, pointing toward the room housing the ancient trap collection.

“Really?” Daphne said, giving them an incredulous look. “After we already decided not to go there?”

“The trapper wants us, or to be more exact Fred, in there. That’s why the traps guided you here,” Velma said, shrugging. “I don’t know why they’re interested in him, maybe his overenthusiasm earlier, but they want a final show down. I guarantee that door is no longer locked, but it’s certainly trapped.”

Forewarned was forearmed and with this prior knowledge Fred successfully disarmed the door without springing the trap. With that accomplished they were in. Fred immediately began using the numerous materials at hand to build a trap of his own. This was going to take a while, as he had such a plethora of choice that it was paralyzing. Likely he would try to build as many permutations at once. Velma pulled out her phone and stated browsing online. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to be doing—she’d rather be in bed asleep with Marcie—but it was better than watching Fred. Daphne, Shaggy, and Scooby all had similar ways of passing the time when they weren’t critical to the build.

“Hey V, can we talk?” Marcie asked.

Those were never good words. Velma immediately slid her phone into her pajama pants and looked up. Marcie looked tense and wasn’t touching her, despite her tactile nature. Velma swallowed and nodded. She had a sinking feeling she knew where this was going. When Marcie jerked her head toward the exit Velma felt her heart clench. She wanted privacy. This was definitely a break up. Still she followed her anyway. Velma wasn’t a coward and if she handled this gracefully she could still salvage their friendship.

Once they had left the room Marcie shut the door behind them. Velma took a deep breath and steeled herself for what came next. She was a big girl and she wasn’t going to run her mouth again.

“School starts next week and I wanted to talk about the lunch situation,” Marcie began.

“The lunch situation,” Velma parroted. This was not how she expected their break up to go.

“Yeah. I know you always sit with the gang and that’s great. I like them too. I’m sure lunch with them is a blast and I’ll enjoy joining them some of the time. However, I’d also like you to sit with me and mine. Maybe on a weekly basis?”

“Why are you asking me this?” Velma asked, feeling stressed and bewildered. Her deduction was clearly off, but she couldn’t seem to self-correct into what was actually happening.

“Look, I’m not exactly friends with any of them, but they’re school chums and I don’t want them thinking I’m lying when I say we’re dating. They’re not going to believe me if you’re not willing to spend time with me in public. Especially after Gibby Norton spent most of last year insisting you were dating him after you and Shaggy broke up. No one believed him after the first month.”

“He did what?” Velma shrieked. She shook her head. Gibby Norton didn’t matter at the moment; in fact he never mattered. “Of course I’ll eat lunch with you, but aren’t you breaking up with me?”

“Why would I possibly do that?” Marcie asked, shooting her a strange look. Velma opened her mouth and started explaining her reading of Marcie’s behavior, but the words quickly died under Marcie’s withering gaze. She placed her hands firmly on Velma’s hips and pulled her close. “Velma, you dork, I will make it perfectly clear if I ever want to break up with you by saying, ‘V, I want a divorce.’ Okay?”

“But we’re not married,” Velma said, a little hysterical. Under such close proximity she wasn’t certain where to put her hands. The obvious place was right in front of her on Marcie’s chest, but that was her chest. Mirroring Marcie would have been a touch awkward and she felt a little shy about wrapping them around the back of her neck. Her hair was obvious a no go, since Velma didn’t want her hand getting caught in it. This was so much easier when Marcie had a free hand to hold.

“We’ll have been married for a very long time before I begin to get bored with you,” Marcie said. “Now can I kiss you or are you going to run away from various types of intimacy? It’s cool either way, but I need to adjust my expectations.”

Velma grabbed her by the face—she finally figured out where to put her hands—and gently pulled her down for a kiss. She had a feeling it wasn’t ever going to become an old experience for her, or at least not a boring one. A vision of them as little old ladies swapping comfortably familiar kisses as they knit flashed through her mind. That would be a nice future.

“Sorry,” Velma said when they broke for air. “I guess I still have a hard time believing you like me.”

“I want you. Get that through your head, Dinkley,” Marcie said, poking Velma’s nose.

“Message received.”

“Velma,” Scooby called, pushing his way through the door. “Rap’s ready!”

“What?” Marcie asked,

“Trap’s ready,” Velma explained. Occasionally Scooby overstressed his Rs when excited. She grinned at her girlfriend. “Let’s go trap our mystery trapper.”

It wasn’t until nearly dawn that anyone else entered the ancient trap collection room. They had all been huddled in position for so long Velma wasn’t sure the gang could move, much less improvise if the trap went wrong. Of course that meant the trap went wrong almost immediately, probably because it turned out they were trying to trap two figures instead of one.

Thanks to the dim lighting—the gang wasn’t about to monkey with Burlington Library’s emergency lighting—one of them still managed to trip into their trap. This occurred when the larger of the two stepped on the skateboard and went slipping forward. They quickly fell off the board, landing on a trampoline Fred had lessened the tension on so that the mystery trapper didn’t go flying. The impact of the crash did have a reverberating effect though and that set all the chattering skulls—these had initially come from the Broken Spine and collected in the Mystery Machine—placed nearby a chattering and they soon chewed through the rope Fred had threaded through their mouths. With the rope now cut it could no longer hold its load and rapidly pulled through the complex pulley system preexisting on the ceiling to eventually drop a metal cage on the intended victim.

Before the larger figure hit the trampoline the smaller one had processed the situation and turned to flee. They didn’t directly backtrack, as Scooby had managed to push a curio cabinet in front of the door, and instead raced off in an unexpected direction. Velma was pretty sure Fred hadn’t set anything over there, since there wasn’t an exit. Now she was worried they had missed one and she got to her feet as quickly as possible. There were some preexisting traps over there; perhaps they could use one of those to trap the second mystery trapper. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure any of them were actively spring-able at the moment. It was considered poor form to leave an active trap were any hapless soul could wander into it.

“Velma, use plan 34-G!” Fred shouted. “34-G!”

“I don’t know which one that is!” Velma snapped back as she tried to follow without triggering any of their traps.

“Use your words, Freddie,” Daphne called.

“The rug! Use your four hands and pull out the rug!” Fred clarified, gesturing at the antique hall rug along the back of the exhibit room.

The figure obviously heard this exchange and tried to get off the carpet, but they were between a wall and an expansive bone net and so had to keep going along the rug. This gave Velma enough time to pick up the edge of the rug.

“I can’t believe he went for the four hands explanation instead of a redesign,” Velma grumbled.

“Is that really true though?” Marcie teased. She was beside her and also had a grip on the rug. “I mean, it’s Fred. What did you expect?”

Together they gave the rug a great shake that rippled down the entire length of the carpet. The second mystery trapper tried to speed up, but couldn’t outrun the wave. When it hit it knocked them off their feet and they landed in a daze. Before the trapper could recover Fred and Shaggy were there and neatly rolled the mystery trapper up in the carpet. Now that the trappers were trapped they could turn on the lights to see who had been harassing them.

Daphne flipped on the lights revealing a conventionally attractive couple probably in their late thirties. Both were blond, though the man’s hair had faded to nearly all white, while the woman’s was still a cheerful gold. They looked vaguely familiar to Velma, but she couldn’t place them and certainly hadn’t seen them at the library. From the confused muttering from Shaggy and Scooby and the glance Marcie and Daphne exchanged they didn’t recognized them either. Fred, however, had gone rigid as he stared at them.

“Do you know them, Freddie?” Daphne asked.

“That’s Brad Chiles and Judy Reeves of Sternum and Sternum fame,” Fred said. “They created the Flautnower 8000.”

“Oh, they also own this collection,” Velma added. Everyone else nodded at her explanation.

“I can’t believe we trapped them!” Fred laughed, punching up into the air. “Best birthday ever!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Brad said.

“Now would you kindly release us from these traps?” Judy asked. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Not until you explain why you decided to go trap crazy tonight,” Velma said. “You have a sterling reputation in the field. This is wholly out of character.”

The pair exchanged a look before Brad cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry, Miss, but that’s personal.”

“That’s right, Brad,” Judy chimed in.

“Thanks Judy.”

“I lost three inches of hair when your Turtle Inferno went off axis and started spewing fire in every direction,” Daphne growled, clutching her scorched locks. “You can’t get much more personal than that.”

Fred wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We trapped you as a team, so the whole team deserves an explanation.”

“The story starts almost nineteen years ago,” Brad began after exchanging another glance with is wife.

“We were young teens in love,” Judy said. “High school sweethearts.”

“As teenagers often do we let our hormones get the better of us and we weren’t as careful as we should have been.”

“What does that mean?” Fred asked.

“They got pregnant,” Marcie said, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

“As we weren’t ready to be parents, knew we couldn’t give our child the life he deserved yet, we gave him up for adoption,” Judy continued.

The rest of the story immediately clicked into place for Velma. She glanced worriedly at Fred and wondered if he knew he was adopted. It certainly explained a lot about his father and why he was so trap obsessed. Looking around, it didn’t seem like anyone else in the gang had figured it out yet.

“We gave him to a friend of my father’s who had always wanted to be a parent, but hadn’t found the time to start a family. He was so excited to have a son he named that child after himself,” Brad said. “It was decided that a closed adoption, at least until our son was eighteen, was the best choice for all parties involved. Of course we knew who was raising him and believed he would do the best job possible, but we also worried we’d overstep our bounds if we stayed near our son because he was still biologically our son.”

“That’s why we haven’t set foot in Crystal Cove in nearly eighteen years,” Judy said. Velma felt Marcie nudge her and then jerk her head at Fred. Daphne gasped and Shaggy audibly gulped. They had figured it out as well. “We didn’t want to confuse or upset our son.”

“That’s right, Judy.”

“Thanks Brad.”

“Who is your son?” Fred asked. “Did I grow up with him? Oh this is so cool!”

“We haven’t had a lot of contact with the father, but he’d typically send us a card or two every year. Apparently junior inherited our love of traps,” Brad said. “We decided to bring our prized collection to town so that he could see it after we introduced ourselves.”

“So when we heard his name shouted earlier tonight just on the other side of the door we couldn’t help ourselves,” Judy laughed. “If he was so excited as to try and see our traps early, who were we to deny him the chance to be trapped by them?”

“But that was my name,” Fred said.

“Fred, the man who adopted our son was Fred Jones, at the time a history grad student at Darrow University. He named the child Fred Jones Jr.,” Brad explained. He reached out of the cage and clasped a hand to Fred’s shoulders. “You’re our son, Son.”

“Biologically speaking of course. We know we could never take the place of your father, the man who raised you,” Judy said. “We love you, Freddie, and we’ve always kept tabs on you as best we could. We’d like a relationship with you, if you’ll allow us.”

“Fred, are you okay?” Daphne asked, touching his cheek. It looked like he might have blue screened again.

“You’re saying I’m your son,” Fred said.

“That’s right, Fred,” Judy said. Brad nodded.

“And you love each other,” Fred continued, “and traps.”

“Our love for each other has strengthened our love of traps,” Brad said.

“And our love of traps has made our relationship stronger than any net in the world,” Judy agreed.

“Could I have that too?” Fred asked. Daphne squeezed his arm.

“Of course!” Brad exclaimed.

“You always want a partner to help you out of a sprung trap,” Judy said. “What partner is better than a partner in marriage?”

“This is all well and good, but like, how does this explain our food attacking us?” Shaggy demanded, slapping a hand to his forehead.

“Oh it doesn’t,” Velma said. “Brad and Judy had nothing to do with that.”

“Completely separate incidents,” Marcie agreed.

“What happened?” Scooby whimpered. He clutched his tail. “Will my food bite me again?”

“That was Shaggy,” Velma said.

“Like, no way no how would I bite my best buddy, ole pal,” Shaggy insisted.

“Except you did, though I’m sure you didn’t mean to,” Velma said. “You two were dosed with terror wood. You probably both thought the other was food and bit each other, starting the attack. Then Marcie and I got hit by it too.

“Terror wood is a unique plant that symbiotically hosts a fungus that induces terror based hallucinations in all creatures with a central nervous system when inhaled. That’s what dosed all of us. You can tell by the signature red smoke it produces when burned.”

“How did this happen?” Scooby asked. He patted Shaggy’s elbow. “I forgive you, Shaggy.”

“You can thank Red for this incident. He showed as much respect for the terror wood display as he did trying to break into this collection earlier and burned some of the wood to warm up,” Velma explained. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still terrified somewhere in the library.”

“Serves him right,” Marcie said.

“Now that everything’s settled can you let us out of these traps?” Brad asked. “Please?”

“Oh yeah, of course,” Fred said.

They freed Fred’s bio parents then started cleaning up the gallery. Most of the gang was limited in their ability to assist, as they didn’t know how to reassemble the traps, but they could at least regroup the building materials. Still, there was a lot to rebuild and a fair amount of it was finicky. Fred and Judy were putting the final stakes of a snake pit back in place when Dr. Fenk opened the door to the collection. It had been exhausting putting everything back together but Velma felt a certain satisfaction at a job well done. No one would ever know how much had been out of disarray moments before.

Since they had already seen the ancient trap collection in its entirety Velma and Marcie wandered outside. They sat on a bench blinking in the daylight and feeling a little frazzled after the all-nighter. Velma rested her head on Marcie’s shoulder. Soon they’d get up and eat then maybe catch a nap before the ride home. For the moment though she just wanted to pause.

“Think this means Fred and Daphne will get together?” Marcie asked.

“From the way I saw them kissing behind the wall of padlocks all signs point to yes,” Velma replied. She pushed her glasses up and sighed. “The gang’s a lot, but I love them.”

“I like being part of this group.”

“I like it too. But you know what I also like? Being alone with you.”

“Aww shucks, V, you’re going to make me blush.”

“It’s my prerogative as your girlfriend,” Velma grinned.

She really had meant to get up and do all those things she was supposed to do. However, it was not meant to be. Instead Velma ended up taking her nap with Marcie right there on the bench under the summer sun.