Chapter Text
The light of the screen was a glare on Velma’s eyes. The sky outside had darkened since she first opened her computer, and in the blue light her hands were pale against the backdrop of the dark keyboard.
She sighed to herself, tired eyes starting to unfocus, she consciously fixated again on the letters on the screen, the email she had open.
Dear Ms Dinkley,
SUBJECT: Repeated Failure of Course/s
Velma felt her heart start to pound again and reached up to switch off her monitor. But the words were burned into her mind.
You have breached Division 3.1 of the Academic Progress Rule 2009 by failing the following course for a second or subsequent time during the 2018 academic year: COMP102
As a result, you have been placed on Probation for repeated failures.
If you are approved to repeat the course/s above for a third or subsequent time—and you fail that course again—you may be excluded from the University.
She took a deep breath and switched the monitor back on. She’d remembered every word of the email correctly. She was good at that, and things like it. Information. Remembering, processing…
She’d thought she was good at this. Academics. She had a history of grades to attest to her assumption that she was good at this.
But for some reason, no matter how hard she tried, it just seemed that somehow… she wasn’t anymore. Good at this, that was.
It may have been that school had always been easy for her in the past. And now that it was hard, maybe she didn’t know how to cope. How to push through that. But at this point, she was starting to feel like that wasn’t the sort of thing she could teach herself. Maybe she just… didn’t have it in her. Maybe she was all used up, like a candle that had burnt until it fizzled out.
It was still mid-semester, and Velma had already automatically failed one of her fundamental classes from failure to turn in over 60% of her grade’s worth of assignments. Bits and pieces of all her work filled her computer’s files and her notebooks, but somehow she could never pull it all together into the assignments she needed to turn in. Despite the fact it was the only thing she was trying to do.
The room got a bit brighter for a second, and her eyes flicked to the side to where her phone screen was illuminated in the dark. Velma picked her phone up and opened the offending notification. It was from Daphne. D: Hey, the solitary message read.
Velma stared at her screen. This message was the first from Daphne in a week, and Velma felt her heart sink at the memory that they had once spoken to each other nearly every day. The last time they had messaged, Daphne had invited Velma to a party. And Velma had said what she was always saying: that she had assignments due, and she couldn’t make it. The assignments in question had never been finished.
V: Hey, Velma typed back.
Daphne was typing again immediately. D: So there’s this Halloween thing in the Badham dormitory 2night, me and Fred are going as Belle and The Beast, haha.
Velma looked out the window at the clouds and the moon. She could hear laughing and friendly yelling and faint music. It was the Saturday night before Halloween, and lots of things were going on outside without her.
This was just another one of those things that would happen without her.
V: I don’t have a costume, she sent back.
D: You don’t actually NEED a costume, me and Freddie are just having fun lol!
Velma put her phone down and carefully pulled her glasses off to massage the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb. She missed how things used to be. When her and Daphne and Fred had spent their time together as friends. When Daphne had spent time with Velma alone, too. Before Daphne found out about the crush Velma used to have on her.
It was a stupid mistake, a letter that was intended to be private, never intended to truly be given. Left in the wrong place at the wrong time.
After that, Daphne and Fred revealed they were dating, and Velma was never invited to anything by Daphne unless Fred was coming too… and Daphne never texted first unless she was mentioning Fred in some way anymore either. Velma didn’t know if that part was deliberate or not, but she just missed the way things used to be.
She didn’t think she was even in love anymore. It just hurt that her and her friend felt so much more distant than they were before. That they never seemed to get any alone time together. And nothing would likely ever be the same, anyway.
A pit of hopelessness had been getting wider and wider inside of Velma, and it yawned now as her mind followed the spiral of her thoughts darker and darker.
Her darkened phone screen lit up again, startling her out of her rumination as another message from Daphne came through. D: I can bring you some cat ears or something if you really don’t want to show up without a costume.
Velma had never really gone to a proper party. She tended to avoid them. But the pit inside her felt almost like boredom, and she wanted something to break the pattern for once.
V: Whose party? She sent, and started to dig for a shirt and skirt in her cupboard. Tugging clean clothes on, she spied a reply come through on her phone screen.
D: Jahan and his roommates, Daphne sent back as if Velma would know who that was.
V: Who?
D: My friends from Introduction to Textiles haha.
Maybe Velma would finally meet the people Daphne’s social media seemed to feature constantly. She didn’t want to, though.
V: When does the party start?
D: 8.
It was 10pm. Velma supposed this is what Daphne would consider fashionably late.
D: Cat ears or not? Daphne asked.
V: I already have ears. If I put a cat ear headband on, I’d have four.
Daphne used to laugh when Velma said that kind of thing.
D: Lighten up.
Not anymore though.
D: Nobody will see your human ears behind your hair anyway.
Velma took a deep breath. V: Bring them. Thanks!
She wasn’t really in an exclamation mark mood, but at the last minute had feared being seen as an ungrateful burden, and decided to try and remedy it with an enthusiastic but casual thanks.
Velma buckled her shoes, slipped her phone into the pocket of her skirt, and left. And then she went back inside.
She quelled her anxiety with an oversized sweater to further hide her body away, and, she realised, to hide the smattering of bandaids on her wrists she’d forgotten were even there.
She was going out tonight. She had nothing else to do anymore, no purpose other than this.
There was a smattering of people in costume around the campus under the practically antiquated street lights lining the paths. Many of them heading in all sorts of separate directions. But at least a few going the way Velma herself was walking, down the centre of campus, past the School of Biology and a sports field, across the little creek… she sort of felt like she was buzzing.
Her urge to silence the pit of dread and hopelessness inside of her was a wild and unfamiliar thing, a powerful force she didn’t know how to control.
Velma had never actually been inside this building before. Extracting her phone from her pocket, she called Daphne, but Daphne didn’t pick up. Of course, Daphne was probably getting ready or trying to get out the door and too busy to answer the phone.
Velma felt embarrassed as she glanced around, trying to see if she could pinpoint where any of the other people heading this way had gone, but she couldn’t see anyone else anymore.
“Oh brother,” Velma huffed frustratedly.
She took a look to the left and the right of the building, and decided to walk up the stairs to the left, where she found a door that was locked.
“Hey, like—”
“Jinkies!” Velma startled. She turned around and found herself face to face with a girl, her hair cut shaggy bit framing her face so pretty, the colour of spun gold and eyes like caramel, freckles dusting the shoulder adorned with a spaghetti strap exposed by the wide-trimmed neckline of a loose shirt slipping to one side.
“Like, don’t I know you from somewhere?” The girl asked.
Velma blinked. Yeah, she’d seen this girl before. She wasn’t gonna forget something like that in a hurry. “First three weeks of Intro to Computer Engineering?”
“Oh yeah,” said the girl, and grinned. Her cuspids stood out more than her lateral incisors, and Velma thought it was unfairly adorable.
They stood there together in silence for a while, the golden-haired girl smiling at Velma. Velma looked at the green shirt and the baggy pants kept up with a tightened belt, and asked, “So, what’s your costume?”
The girl blinked slowly. “Uh, nothing, I guess,” she said. “How about you?”
“Ah, me too,” Velma admitted.
“Like I guess we match then!” The girl said, and laughed.
“Yeah, I guess we do,” Velma said. She felt a little awkward standing here with this pretty girl.
“So, like, are you gonna go in?” The girl asked.
“I… don’t actually know how,” Velma admitted quietly.
“Oh, no problem, I can do that,” the pretty girl said.
The pretty girl stepped to the side and pressed one of the buttons next to the door. Of course, Velma had been aware that those were there, but she had automatically discounted them as an option because she hadn’t known which one to press, and had been unwilling to find out through a trial and error process that would probably make her more enemies than friends. If Daphne was picking up, she would have asked Daphne, but…
“Hey, man! Can we get up?”
The muffled voice on the other end of the intercom sounded vaguely affirmative, and Velma heard the door unlock.
The girl opened it and bowed with a smile. “Milady,” she said, stepping to the side and ushering Velma in.
“Thanks,” Velma said, feeling her face heat a little as she stepped inside. The girl approached the elevator and seemed to know where she was going, so Velma left that up to her.
“Hey, I remember you! You’re that smarty-pants nerd girl. I’ve never seen you at any of the parties around here before,” the girl said, as if they hadn’t moved on from her recognising Velma five minutes ago.
And Velma would have been offended if it weren’t for the sheer earnestness on the pretty girl’s face. As if she really didn’t mean it as an insult. Almost as if she meant it as a compliment.
“Yeah…” Velma said, embarrassed anyway, and uncertain. The laid back, friendly vibe of the pretty girl was a little bit disconcerting. People didn’t tend to behave like that around Velma.
Then again, Velma was usually correcting other people about something, so maybe that wasn’t the best way to make friends.
“What brings you out tonight? Didn’t really peg you for like… someone who goes to parties, I guess.”
“Do you normally make assumptions based on stereotypes?” Velma said before she could think better of it.
“Like, maybe we just don’t go to the same parties then,” the pretty girl said awkwardly.
Velma cringed and scratched the back of her neck. “Well, uh. I guess the stereotype has to come from somewhere, huh?”
The pretty girl laughed, somehow seemingly unoffended. “Back to my question then, I guess! What brings you out tonight?”
“I don’t know,” Velma said quietly as the elevator finally dinged.
“Hah, fair enough,” the girl said, pressing a button in the lift. “Good or bad, though?”
Velma blinked. Is there a bad reason to go to a party for the first time since… since parties were sleepovers where the strongest drink was apple juice? Maybe. She wanted to forget how useless she felt. She wanted to be someone other than who she was.
None of those things were really the sort of thing you tell someone when you first meet them.
“Maybe I just… needed a drink?” Velma said, half-joking almost, uncertain.
“Yeah, like, I get that,” the pretty girl said. “Much of a drinker?”
“Uh. No,” Velma said.
The pretty girl’s brows furrowed for a moment, and then she smiled again. “Well, I guess uh… you have to start somewhere?”
Velma found herself smiling a little, a tiny laugh working itself out of her. “That’s one way to put it,” she said, wry but good-natured.
The elevator doors opened, and the shaggy-haired girl led Velma down the corridor, opening a door into some kind of common area with a kitchen and couches, seats, and corridors and doors and stairs leading in many directions. Music, which had been muffled from the corridor and from outside the building, was now clear, and a little loud.
But Velma didn’t really mind the way nobody was paying much specific attention to her in the chaos of the environment draped in people with red solo cups covered in fake blood, funny headbands and weird costumes. Except… that girl…
Velma glanced around, but somehow, the pretty, shaggy-haired girl had disappeared into thin air. “Damnit,” she whispered to herself.
Before she could really decide what to do next, someone she didn’t recognise had approached her and pushed a cup into her hands. “Hey there! Here, catch up,” he said, and normally Velma wouldn’t take a drink from a stranger, but Daphne had appeared out of nowhere and was nodding encouragingly.
Velma’s eyes widened at Daphne’s darker hair. What she had at first assumed was a wig, as Daphne came closer, revealed itself to be very clearly real hair. Velma had no clue for how long Daphne’s hair had been dyed brown—if it had been an exceptional commitment to the halloween costume (unlikely) or a new lifestyle choice that Daphne had not talked to Velma about at all, before or after she’d made it. Only a year and a half ago Velma knew Daphne would not have dyed her hair without asking Velma about it first, despite knowing Velma wouldn’t have had much of an opinion on an aesthetic choice like that. But at least she would have been a decent sounding board.
The twinge in Velma’s heart was tenfold suddenly, the ache of losing her best friend to people from Daphne’s new fashion classes that Velma unwillingly had to admit were probably better fits for Daphne as friends. More like-minded, more to talk about. But Velma had to admit that she missed when Daphne wanted to share more of her life with her.
The doubt Velma felt about the cup in her hand had washed away, and an odd determinism to do something that, for Velma at least, was reckless, came back.
As soon as the cup came anywhere near her mouth, the smell of it made her crinkle her nose, glasses slipping down when she relaxed again. Well, she’d wanted something like this, hadn’t she? To be someone else? But this drink smelt so unappealing she had no doubt the only way she’d be able to get it all down was if she did it as quickly as possible.
She brought the cup to her lips, tipped her head back, and tried to pour the liquid almost directly down her throat. Her attempt to taste as little of it as possible didn’t really work, and as she swallowed the last of the liquid, she choked and coughed at the protest of her body.
“That’s the spirit!” Daphne declared.
“This tastes like soggy bread and… acetone,” Velma wheezed.
“Yeah, Jack makes this thing he calls ‘slavic ale’, it tends to be pretty effective at getting a party started,” Daphne laughed.
“What is it?” Velma asked in concern.
“He basically just puts vodka in beer,” Fred chimed in from behind Daphne. His ears, horns, and painted face contextualised Daphne’s yellow dress, even though their outfits were not exactly accurate to any particular depiction of Beauty and the Beast that Velma was familiar with.
“Jinkies,” Velma sighed, the empty cup feeling too light in her hands and the stale taste of fermented grain clinging to the inside of her mouth. She adjusted her glasses up the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply.
Before Velma could really get started talking to Daphne and Fred, they were waved over by someone Velma didn’t recognise and excused themselves from her company to talk to them.
Velma decided to return to looking around, hoping to catch a glance of shaggy golden hair. Looking for amusement in those toffee coloured eyes was sweeter than watching out for exasperation in Daphne’s blue ones had ever been.
Velma scooted past a few groups of laughing people into the kitchen, looking around and listening out and hoping she wouldn’t have to stray too far into the maze of rooms of this place to find the girl she was looking for.
But she had another mission in mind, too. The bench, peppered with half-full bottles, was drawing her curiosity and her desire to escape from the reality she’d dug herself into.
The sweet-smelling bottles labelled as fruity flavoured things drew her in at first, but there was perhaps an aspect of greed to her that she’d never really explored, and the vodka drew her in for the strength of it. She had probably gone overboard in creating her concoction, and that suspicion was confirmed at the first sip she took of the drink she’d mixed. Syrupy and eye-wateringly strong, the heat of the alcohol was overwhelming. She coughed and breathed out her mouth for a second.
A captivating giggle came from behind her, and a carton of something was being pushed towards her. Velma’s eyes widened at the sight of that shaggy golden hair she’d been looking for.
“Like, uh, here’s some fruit juice, man,” the girl said. “Might make your potion a little easier on the, uh, tongue.”
Velma had an idea of something else that would be easy on the tongue, but she didn’t feel like saying that out loud.
Velma took the carton and poured some of the fruit juice into her cup. It didn’t erase the burn of the alcohol, but after the first sip almost anything would have been better. Plus, Velma was like 90% sure some of her taste buds had been singed off.
“Thanks,” Velma said, and the girl shrugged.
“No problem,” she replied, and turned and started to walk away.
Velma frowned, taking another sip of her drink as she followed after the golden-haired girl. The girl went up the stairs and out onto a balcony.
“Hey, uh—“ Velma started.
“Zoinks!” The girl jumped and cowered a little into the corner. “Oh! Oh, it’s you! Uh, I get like, a little jumpy sometimes. When it’s dark.”
“That’s ok! I’m sorry, so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you! I’m sorry, I’m such a… well, I don’t know, but nothing good.”
“No, no, it’s no trouble. Besides, I’m gonna be real chilled out in a second.”
The vase the girl produced from the embroidered bag over her shoulder had pieces Velma wasn’t entirely familiar with. Actually, she was rather puzzled. What was a vase for?
“Do you have flowers?”
“You bet,” the girl said, digging around in her bag to produce a jar from a pouch, filled with dry plant matter. Well, that wasn’t anything that could be kept fresh in water, so Velma didn’t really—
Oh. Ohhh. The stem was because it wasn’t a vase. And the flowers were…
“Sorry I, like, disappeared earlier, dude. Saw my guy, and I wanted to catch him before he ran out. You know, it’s a party. Happens pretty quickly sometimes.”
“Right,” Velma said, still processing.
“Oh, brother,” the girl muttered like an expletive. “Got so distracted watching you mix up that wacky wizard potion I forgot to grab water. Um…”
The girl looked at Velma apologetically.
“Like, do you think you might be able to run in and get me a cup of water?”
“Sure! Yes! Absolutely!”
“Neat-o! Don’t tell anyone what we’re doing out here, though, or everyone will want some,” the shaggy-haired girl said with a wink.
Velma felt her face get warm again as she rose to her feet.
She quietly snuck back inside, making her way to the kitchen again. The trouble was, at that point, that she couldn’t find a cup. There were dozens around, of course, but barely any either empty or clean.
Velma took a steadying breath, and emptied her own cup into her mouth. She could feel it now, washing over her in waves. It was calming, in a way. Distracting, and just interesting enough to help her focus on nothing more than the moment, rather than letting her mind wander to all the darkest places it had been wallowing.
She rinsed her cup in the sink a few times and filled it up fresh with water, trying to be inconspicuous as she walked up the stairs, slipped around the corner in this maze of a dormitory, and headed towards the door to the balcony.
She caught herself tip-toeing, and the ridiculousness of being sneaky, or trying to, in such a mundane situation, made her have to bite down a giggle.
She tried to slide the door back open quietly, and froze as the door struck a poorly-lubricated area of the track, squeaking. She stopped sliding the door open, and simply squeezed through the gap, somehow not as shy about the way she had to squeeze through as her tummy pressed into the door as she normally would have been.
“Water,” she said proudly, presenting the cup like a trophy.
“Thanks, man,” the girl said, taking the cup and pouring some of the water into the vase. Or, the bong, Velma supposed. “Hey, you’re kinda cool. You want in on this?”
“I’m not- I don’t- really know how to use that thing,” Velma said, not sure how to admit that her wry flower comment had been a misinterpreted fluke, and she had no experience whatsoever with the pretty girl’s intoxicant of choice.
Not that Velma had much experience with alcohol, either, and that was going surprisingly well for her, actually, so maybe getting stoned wouldn’t be too bad.
“I can roll up if you want,” the girl said, propping a leg up on the balcony table and rocking a little balancing on the chair on its back legs.
“Uh, sure,” said Velma, sort of mesmerised watching the pretty girl’s hands as she played with the opening to another little pouch from her bag.
The shaggy-haired girl’s fingers only got more mesmerising as Velma watched the process of everything, selecting the dried marijuana and placing it into the contraption that ground it up with a few twists back and forth, the paper, the… filter? the rolling…
The pink tongue sticking out past the pretty lips to swipe across the paper and seal it…
If the alcohol hadn’t been a factor at all, Velma thought that the presence of the pretty girl might have made her feel drunk all on its own.
And feeling drunk was… interesting. New. She’d never had this much before, the world had never felt so… sparkly, floaty and free.
She slowly turned her head as something was placed in her hand. It was almost cute, neat and cylindrical. This, Velma supposed, would be a joint. She knew roughly how this worked, THC and her brain and inhaling smoke and all the rest of it, but she didn’t want to bother with conjuring the details to the forefront of her mind right this second.
“Need a light?” the girl asked.
“I guess I do,” Velma said, and she went to hold out her hand, but the pretty girl flicked the lighter and held out the flame, so Velma, imitating how she had seen cigarettes lit in a million films, placed the filter end lightly between her lips and leant forward, dipping the tip into the flame.
As soon as she inhaled, she choked. Quickly, she pulled the joint from between her lips and allowed herself to cough, feeling like she was hacking up a lung. The back of her throat hurt and the only reprieve was the brief moment it took her to down what little water was left in the cup she’d brought outside.
“Zoinks! Are you ok, dude?” the girl asked, leaning forward.
“Uh…” Velma said, still catching her breath. She cleared her throat. “I… jinkies, I don’t know how to use this either,” she admitted.
The pretty girl’s eyes widened a little. “Oh! Oh, uh… ok. Like, do you want some help?”
Velma sort of shrugged.
“Still burning there, so we don’t wanna take too long,” the girl said. Velma shrugged again. “So, you don't always breathe it straight into your lungs. Unless you’re using the bong, but that’s kinda different. It’s a little easier if you kinda breathe it into your mouth first.”
“Technically, breathing involves the lungs, so… but… uh, not that that matters…” Velma trailed off awkwardly, trying not to scare the shaggy-haired girl off.
“Right. Well I guess you sort of suck it into your mouth then. I create like, a vacuum with the position of my tongue. And then I breathe in what’s in my mouth.”
Velma followed this instruction, but the smoke was still smoke, thick and hot, and though she coughed only a little this time, she still coughed.
The girl was frowning. “You don’t have to smoke it, if, uh, it hurts.”
“I want to,” Velma immediately replied.
The girl seemed to think for a moment, fidgeting a little. “Maybe I can, like, help you get used to the smoke.”
“Help me?” Velma parroted curiously.
“Sure! Just, like, breathe in when I tap your neck.”
“My neck?”
The girl took the joint from Velma’s fingers and brought it to her own lips, something that made Velma let out a bit of an indignant squawk.
And suddenly she was leaning forward…
Velma’s eyes widened as the pretty girl’s mouth met hers, her lips parting automatically. Velma had nearly forgot all about the marijuana when she felt a tap on her neck and breathed in, the first time in a few seconds she’d remembered to breathe at all.
Smoke filled her lungs, but it was cooler and thinner now, so much easier on her.
The pretty girl pulled back, and Velma breathed out, watching the smoke dissipate into the air.
“Thanks,” she breathed.
“That’s no problem! Want another hit?”
Velma felt tingly, her face warm, her eyes wide. She nodded.
The pretty girl’s lips were so soft, and her hands were so gentle where she steadied Velma’s face.
Breathing out smoke was entertaining, fascinating to watch, like when it’s cold enough to see your breath in the air.
“Think you can try to do it by yourself this time?” the pretty girl asked, and Velma desperately wanted to say no, but she knew that the longer she let this girl kiss her, the more likely it was she’d accidentally kiss back and scare her away.
“Yeah,” Velma said, carefully taking the joint between her pointer and middle finger. It was closer to the filter now, and she could sort of feel the warmth of it on her face as she brought it to her lips.
She had gotten a bit more used to the smoke now, that was true. With application of what she’d learned and a little patience, she managed to take a hit from the joint herself without hacking a lung up.
Just as she was starting to wonder what the weed would feel like, and when it would hit, time seemed to skip a beat, and she realised suddenly that she was high.
“Jinkies…” she breathed.
“You, like, alright there?” the girl asked.
“Um…” Velma mumbled, taking a moment to think. “You might… you can have the rest,” she said, holding out the hand with the joint in it.
“That’s nice of you, but it’s all used up now I think,” the girl said.
“Oh.”
Velma drifted from moment to moment, not quite noticing the time in between. Her brain tingled pleasantly at the bubbling sound of the shaggy-haired girl’s bong, and time had slowed down. The bubbling stopped, and Velma watched the pretty girl’s fingers pack more of the marijuana into the bong, and light it again.
This was ridiculous, but the girl looked so beautiful lit up by the flame of her lighter, with her mouth pressed to the bong, breathing in… by the moonlight, tipping her head back and blowing the smoke into the still air, twirling out past her lips, caressing her face like Velma wished her hands could, before the breeze picked it up and carried it away.
Velma’s mouth was a little dry, and her eyes were a little dry too, but it didn’t really bother her much. She took her glasses off to rub her eyes, against her better judgement maybe, but she giggled at the way the blur of her vision made the light from the buildings and the stars in the sky glisten.
Velma put her glasses back on and watched the pretty girl relax, melt into the deck chair she had taken up residence in, smile with half-lidded eyes as she slouched back and giggled.
The girl’s giggle drew out Velma’s own, and soon the two of them were just laughing, gazing into each other’s eyes.
“Dude, I’m starving,” the girl said suddenly, giggles starting to trail off. “Let’s go see what they got to eat around here!”
Velma realised suddenly that the thought of food was incredibly appealing. “Yeah!”
The girl got up, and tipped the water from her bong over the side of the balcony, giving Velma a wink and a ‘shh’. Her things were haphazardly tucked back into her bag, and they stumbled back inside together.
When they got back to the kitchen, a process that seemed to happen in a blur, Velma watched enamoured as the girl used her baggy shirt as a carrier to scoop snacks into, bags of chips and folded-closed foil trays of yummy little nibbles. She snacked as she went, popping things in her already full mouth as she greedily picked over the kitchen bench for it’s spoils.
They were being greedy, Velma thought, and she laughed again because she didn’t really care. But in fairness, the rest of the people at the party didn’t seem that interested in the food. Most of it was sort of cold, and lots of it had been picked over more than an hour ago and left alone since.
“Grab the, uh… pizza, maybe?” the girl said with a hand half-covering her sort of full mouth. Velma would have thought it was gross if it wasn’t so damn cute.
The girl raised her arm to get the end of a gummy worm into her mouth, and the spaghetti-strapped singlet she was wearing under her shirt popped out from where it was tucked into her pants, exposing a little strip of belly pudge.
She’s gained weight, Velma realised before she even caught up with how she’d noticed—the way that the belt the girl was wearing was being worn looser than the marks from the buckle pressing into it and the most worn out holes. And it’s not hard to tell why.
Velma felt warm all over, loose and pleasant and… kind of… kind of inappropriate, for just making friends. She bit her lip, looking around to distract herself, when she spied a little plastic container of… well, disposable shot glasses, probably, but they looked like little miniature red solo cups. And they were so cute.
“Aww, look at these things!” Velma said, grinning. “They’re tiny!”
“Dude, those are like, totally adorable! C’mon, let’s take a shot!” the girl said, holding her shirt full of snacks up with one hand and grabbing a bottle with the other.
Velma nodded, dutifully fiddling with the bag until she produced two of the tiny little cups that the girl poured into, and Velma followed the girl’s lead, tipping her head back and swallowing. She couldn’t taste the alcohol as acutely now she was already under the influence, but she pulled a face nonetheless.
“I got the goods, grab the pizza and let’s get out of here before someone tries to get in on this,” the girl said with a grin. Velma nodded again, grabbing the pizza before the girl stopped, turning around. “Let’s get some more water, too. And, uh, maybe some of that beer, while we’re here.”
Velma looked around for an empty cup, but the girl was already opening the fridge, where there was cold bottled water. Oh. Probably wasn’t really for the party, but… it was there, anyway. She didn’t really feel like pulling individual beers from the rings, either, so she picked up a six pack that had somehow remained untouched amidst all the other booze, and followed the girl back outside.
It somehow wasn’t too cold out there, which was nice. Or maybe Velma was just so warm and floaty from the things in her veins she couldn’t tell it was cold. Either way, it was comfortable like this.
She hadn’t noticed how loud it was inside until she was outside again. She’d been so dazed she hadn’t even processed there was music playing until she could hear the quiet ghost of it through the sliding door.
The girl was emptying her shirt out onto the table, opening things she’d closed and laying their bounty out before them. Velma remembered her hunger when she saw the food laid out in front of them. The promise of the fullness it would provide made her blush, and she put down the things in her hands, opened the pizza box and took one of the slices.
It was cold, yeah, but something about the weed, she suspected, had done something to her taste buds. Every taste was euphoric. Savoury tangy tomato sauce and creamy nutty cheese and bread and every little bit of topping was like it was singing to her tongue or something. It was just so good. She was eating another slice before she could even remember finishing her first.
The pretty girl ate too, and Velma remembered about her and how pretty she was as she looked up. The girl’s enthusiasm for the food she was eating was captivating, she wiggled happily from side to side as she dipped into candy, pigs-in-blankets, chips, chocolate…
Velma leant forward to start eating the other foods, too. It was the same story, it seemed. Velma had no real experience with this sensation, the way all the things about the food she was eating, the sweetness and the umami and the textures, were somehow amplified, and in the best way possible. The things that made junk food so gratifying were amplified, the pleasure of the flavours lit a light in her brain like nothing she’d ever felt before.
She couldn’t stop. It was so ridiculously, stupidly good. She didn’t want to stop anyway.
The pretty girl’s strip of pudge had grown as her singlet had ridden up under her shirt, once again exposed to view as she stretched to lean all the way across to where the pizza was, next to Velma. So pretty.
Her shaggy golden hair hid her face from view for a moment, and Velma felt a sudden need to warn the girl to be careful not to dip her hair into any grease, but the words to explain that had failed her, her tongue heavy and clumsy in her mouth and her thoughts slow and scrambled, happening… as if they were too fast for her to hear, which was silly, because they were her thoughts, and she shouldn’t need them to be at any particular speed for her to hear them, but still—
What came out was “Shaggy girl, hey!”
The pretty girl looked up. “Me? I kinda like that.”
“Wha— um, what?” Velma said, confused. What was happening?
“Shaggy. You can call me that, if you want, geek girl.”
“I’m Velma,” Velma said dumbly, still a little confused.
“I’m Shaggy,” the girl said.
“You’re… that’s not… a name?” Velma said.
“Well, my name is embarrassing. So it’s Shaggy now, Velms.”
“Not very… flattering. Sorry,” Velma muddled out.
“Hey man, I like it. So I’m keeping it. Nothing you can do about it now!”
Velma felt as if she should apologise somehow, or explain herself. But she didn’t quite know how. So she picked up the pizza box and brandished it at… Shaggy. “Have a pizza… um, slice…” she said.
“Thanks, dude!” the girl said, sitting back down and patting her belly. The way she lent back, her oversized shirt rested on her body, and Velma could see the shape of her slightly rounded belly under it. And the outline of her nipples…
Velma took a deep breath and focused on eating again, stuffing chocolate into her mouth to distract herself. The packaging was empty all too soon, and she took a moment to catch her breath. She felt full, heavy. And her skirt was digging in a little.
Shaggy, across from her, barely muffled a burp behind her fist and patted her belly with a self-satisfied smile. She really was pretty.
“Hey, Velma.” Shaggy dug around in her bag and pulled out a small object. A little pocket knife. “I’ve kinda always wanted to try something,” she said.
“Try what?” Velma asked.
“Pass me a beer?” Shaggy asked. Velma obliged.
Shaggy had sort of stabbed a hole in the can before Velma could really process what she was doing, and it was squirting out foam in an arc that almost splashed Velma’s shoes before Shaggy got her lips over it. She cracked the can open, spilling a little onto her bare knees, and Velma could hear her swallowing quickly in the quiet night air.
Suddenly, Shaggy dropped the can. It clattered, empty, onto the ground, and Shaggy grinned with a huff of laughter. “Like, uh, that didn—” Shaggy was interrupted by a long burp, but she didn’t seem shy about it. She giggled and poked at her belly, burped again (smaller this time) and shook her head, golden hair flicking side to side. “Didn’t exactly go the way I thought it would,” she managed.
Velma paused for a second, thinking. She pulled a beer from it’s ring, and asked for the knife.
“Have you ever, uh, done this before?” Shaggy asked.
“No,” Velma said.
“Think you can do it better?” Shaggy asked. Like when they had first ‘met’ each other, it was a sentence that normally would have made Velma feel ridiculed. But it fell from Shaggy’s lips so earnestly, it seemed almost sweet. It was just a curious question, well-meaning and dripping with interest.
“Well…” Velma said. “The, um… theory is… simple enough, I suppose. I think I get it.”
She tipped the can at an upside-down angle, and pierced it near the base. She spilled a couple of drops jumping at the pop sound it made when she pierced it, but it didn’t start squirting everywhere, so that was a good sign.
“Far out, how’d you do that?”
“Well… you tend to want to open the can where the, um… air bubble is,” Velma said.
“Ohhh, yeah, that makes sense now,” Shaggy said.
Velma took a deep breath, and carefully lifted the hole to her lips. She gently tipped the can back up, tilting her head to the side a little, and opened it at the top, allowing for air to quickly take up the space of the liquid as she drank. That’s what makes it so easy to drink fast when you do… whatever this is called, she supposed. Ease of displacement.
The last couple of gulps were sort of hard to get down. When she dropped the can from her tingling fingertips, and gasped. “Feel like I’m gonna pop,” she panted.
“You gotta burp, Velms,” Shaggy said with a smile.
Velma leant forward a little and managed to muffle the few burps that came up as she massaged her stomach a little. “Wow. Not doing that again,” Velma breathed.
“It was awesome, though. Like, you’re totally so cool, Velma,” Shaggy declared.
“Thanks,” Velma said, looking down, heart pounding a little. She stifled another small burp, her stomach no longer feeling like it was fit to burst. But feeling, she noticed, really quite full. Wow. She took a deep breath in and felt the pressure, and her skirt practically creaked around her belly. Damn.
“Phew,” Velma heard Shaggy sigh. She looked up, and her eyes went wide. Shaggy had undone her belt, pulled her singlet-top up, and was rubbing her belly with one hand while she ate with the other.
Velma felt warm and her heart pounded and she even felt something between her legs she really wasn’t meant to feel and this was all just, like, a lot, and—
“I’m—! Going to get another drink!” Velma declared, standing up and trying not to look at Shaggy, making a grab for her empty cup that was still out here.
She hurried inside, trying to take deep, slow breaths, but she was a little too full to really breathe deep enough to calm herself. “Keep it together, you ditz dyke,” she whispered to herself. “Damnit.”
“Velma?” It was Daphne. “Was wondering where you got off to. Party on the balcony?”
“No!” Velma answered quickly. “No, uh, don’t go out there. Someone, uh… threw up. Really gross. Stay inside.”
Daphne blinked. She looked sort of unconvinced, but she didn’t really seem to question it, either. “Yuck,” she said, and Velma realised the unconvinced look was just sort of a slightly disappointed disinterest. “Anyway, um. How are you doing?”
“Me?” Velma asked in blatant disbelief that Daphne cared, before schooling herself to a more appropriate expression. “Uh, fab! Fantast-ing- uh, I mean… fantastic. Just going to grab another… uh… drink.”
Daphne looked at Velma with some sort of confusion on her face. “Are you sure?” she asked.
Velma tried to suppress another burp, and something inside her seemed to disagree with that decision, forcing a rather tight hiccup out of her. Velma stared at Daphne like a child caught wrist-deep in the cookie jar for a moment as Daphne looked at Velma with this expression on her face that was… part doubtful, part pitying, part judgement. Brow raising slowly.
“Yep! Sure as I’ll ever be!” Velma said, breaking the awkward silence, not managing to close her mouth again before another hiccup got out. She swallowed a few times, and thankfully the hiccups seemed to stop. Hopefully those wouldn’t be back anytime soon.
Now Daphne really did look unconvinced, but she seemed to decide not to say whatever she thought to Velma out loud. She stepped forward though, and the look on her face seemed to suggest she was going to ask Velma if she was doing ok, or something. And then that look changed as Daphne’s nose wrinkled.
“Girl, you know I love you—” Velma did not know that. Not at all. “—but you reek,” Daphne finished.
“That’s probably the cannabis,” Velma said matter-of-factly.
Daphne sort of blinked, and she went through a range of expressions Velma couldn’t really keep up with. One of them was very close to disgust. Finally, she settled on a sort of indifference that made Velma’s tummy twist in unwelcome knots. “Me and Fred are heading off. See you sometime,” Daphne said.
“Yeah, for sure,” Velma muttered, watching Daphne walk away.
She didn’t get it. She really didn’t get it. Sometimes, it seemed like Daphne had drifted away from Velma because Velma wasn’t cool enough. But if Daphne didn’t want the Velma who got intoxicated at a party, then what Velma did she want? Was it ever really any of Velma?
At least Shaggy wanted a Velma. This Velma. And Velma liked being this Velma, she decided as she staggered back into the kitchen. This Velma had spent hours passing time in the pleasant ease of a thoughtless daze, forgetting her worries to the substances clouding her mind, the girl in front of her, and food she’d finally felt free to eat without judgement.
She measured the vodka into her cup with her heart, and the juice with—at first—a bit too much pride. She had to add a little more after her first sip made her cough again.
And she decided she was ready to go back to Shaggy without having some kind of gay crisis. Maybe. Either way, she desperately wanted to get back to Shaggy.
The stairs moved a little bit while she was walking up them, sneaky things, but she didn’t fall, and she didn’t spill, so she was going well as far as she was concerned.
On the balcony again, air still somehow warm, Shaggy was using the bong again. There must have been a word for that. Velma either didn’t know it, or couldn’t remember it.
Actually, it was rather impressive just how long Shaggy inhaled for. And just how much smoke she exhaled after. Velma couldn’t hope to do that, she didn’t think.
“Vellllma!” Shaggy cried joyously.
“Hi,” Velma said with a smile.
“Do… do you, um… like… dare me to, um… take another… uhh… uh…” Shaggy paused, blinking very slowly. “Hit. Tha’s the word.”
The answer should have been no. It really, really should have been no. But Shaggy’s half-lidded gaze, dopey smile… the way she picked a beer can she’d opened while Velma was gone up and pouted and muttered “empty…” and put it back down and gone right back to gazing adorably at Velma…
The way she’d taken her shirt off and her singlet was riding up and Velma could see the shape of her breasts and the taut bulge of her stuffed stomach…
Velma felt hot and cold all over, and she felt selfish as she said it, but she couldn’t hold herself back. “Yeah,” she said.
Shaggy grinned, and started looking around for something. She frowned, cocked her head. Looked down at her hand. Smiled. She’d been looking for the little grindy-thing in her own hand.
She opened it, and started packing the dry herb into the bit on the end of the stem of the bong.
Velma watched her take the hit, almost mesmerised. The action Shaggy did was so much more fluid than the rest of her motions, like it was so ingrained into her muscle memory she could never be too high to manage.
“Can I try?” Velma asked.
Shaggy nodded.
Velma took a sip from her drink before she put it down.
Shaggy took the piece off the end of the stem and started to put some of the marijuana into it.
“Try, uh… making bubbles,” she said.
Velma put her mouth to the end and breathed in, but. No bubbles.
Shaggy put down the things in her hands and leant forward, taking one of Velma’s hands and carefully positioning it.
“Thumb… hole…” Shaggy said, and Velma nodded.
“Right.”
“When you light it, make bubbles. And when you… breathe it. No bubbles.”
Velma practised. She seemed to understand the basic principle.
“And. Slow.”
Velma nodded.
“And don’t, uh. Breathe back into it.”
“Got it,” Velma said.
Shaggy put the piece back into the end of the stem. “Bubbles,” she said. Velma made bubbles. “No bubbles.” Velma inhaled with her thumb off the hole. Shaggy nodded. “Ready?” Velma nodded back.
Shaggy flicked the lighter on and held the flame to the herb, and Velma made bubbles. It was different this time, a little.
“No bubbles now. Do it, like, slowly,” Shaggy said, words slow and clumsy, but Velma got it. She breathed in, slowly, thumb off the hole.
She had to pull back before the bong was empty of smoke, and Shaggy just gave her a thumbs up and quickly breathed in the leftover smoke herself.
Surprisingly, Velma didn’t cough. She slowly breathed out, and took in a lungful of fresh air.
“There’s…” Shaggy trailed off for a moment. “Some left,” she finally said, gesturing the bong towards Velma.
Velma nodded, and took it again. The process was, in a way, a blur. But she didn’t quite nail it this time, nodding in assent for Shaggy to finish the rest while she coughed.
Velma took a sip of her drink. Oddly, though it was strong, it was cool and it had a viscosity to it that seemed to soothe her throat. She watched Shaggy giggle and open another beer.
Velma realised, finishing off some of the last of the candy, that she was too warm. She pulled her jumper off, and sighed.
Her belly was visible through the tighter undershirt now, and rounded out like Shaggy’s, skirt digging in.
“Damn,” Shaggy said. “Like, looks like you’re fuckin’... pregnant. With our food baby.”
Velma burst into laughter, but a part of her was turned on by Shaggy’s words in a way. Thinking about how full her tummy was, it seemed oddly inappropriate. And she knew she shouldn’t feel like that about it, but she didn’t know exactly what to do about it. Other than keep it to herself.
She sighed and took another sip of her drink, and she heard Shaggy go “oh” from across from her.
“Hm?” Velma said after a beat, brain slow.
“You’re… hurt?” Shaggy said, and Velma remembered the band-aids.
Normally they throbbed the day after she’d done them, but right now… “It’s…” Velma stifled another burp. “Fine. Can’t feel them right now.”
Shaggy frowned, looking down for a moment. “I guess… feeling’s kinda… like, overrated,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” Velma agreed, nodding vigorously enough the world spun for a moment after. “I’ll drink to that,” she joked.
“Me too,” Shaggy said, and they both took a sip of their drinks.