Falling

By Mlle. Dinkley

DISCLAIMER: Scooby-Doo and all related characters and elements are trademarks of Hanna-Barbera and/or Warner Bros. All rights retained by the original copyright holder or holders. This is an amateur, not-for-profit work and is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the original copyright holders.

It feels like I'm falling,

Deeper into the unknown,

And I'm losing

The fight to stay alone,

And I'm falling,

Falling for you

--Donna Lewis, "Falling"

A warm fall breeze blew through the trees, gently rustling their nearly leafless branches. Here and there, a few red and orange leaves still clung desperately to the last vestiges of their life, but even these steadfast candidates could not resist the call of the autumn breeze, and they eventually broke loose and floated away, carried off by the wind to meet their creator.

Daphne Blake took a momentary break from her homework to watch the idyllic, autumnal scene taking place outside her window. It was only the beginning of October, but the young redhead already felt overwhelmed by her schoolwork. She had always known that high school would be much more difficult than middle school, but she had never imagined that the difference would be so drastic. Her workload was much heavier now, and she found herself having to spend the weekends doing homework, much to her dismay. Nostalgically, she recalled her younger days, when she and her friends--Velma Dinkley, Freddie Jones and Shaggy Rogers--would spend their weekends hanging out in the treehouse in Shaggy's backyard.

It wasn't just her school life that was changing either; at fourteen, Daphne found herself in the throes of early adolescence. With each passing day, the image of the cute, spunky redhead grew fainter and fainter, replaced by that of a sleek, pretty teenager with strawberry blond hair and sparkling gray eyes. She had grown three inches in the last year alone, and now stood five feet five inches tall with a shapely, hourglass figure. Her face had lost much of its chubbiness, and had taken on a slenderer appearance, beautifully accented by her now shoulder length hair that she kept neatly arranged in a lavender headband. She had decided to explore different avenues of fashion as well, abandoning her pink jumper in favor of a royal purple mini-dress that she felt better suited her figure. She still wore a scarf, but opted for a light green one rather than magenta; green, she thought, better complemented her hair color and offset the blue tone in her dress.

Daphne leaned back in her chair, clenching her fists and uttering a groan of frustration. Here it was, a beautiful Saturday afternoon and she was stuck indoors, faced with a seemingly bottomless pile of homework. She thought for a moment about her best friend, Velma, who was a year younger, but in the same grade. For the little bespectacled girl, the transition to high school had been uneventful, and Daphne wished that, on a day like this, she could borrow the younger girl's brain for a few hours. Thinking about Velma brought back memories of childhood, a time that seemed so long ago, but in truth, really wasn't. Prompted by the memories, Daphne decided that now was the ideal time to take a break from her work. Methodically stacking the papers on her desk, she placed her pencil across the tope of the pile and left. She knew exactly where she would go.

Moments later, Daphne stood in front of her childhood hangout, the huge oak tree in the Rogers' backyard. Settling down at the base of the tree, she glanced upward into the massive branches, surprised to find that the rickety treehouse she and her friends had built there so many years ago was still standing. She had many fond memories of that treehouse and the times she had spent there with the gang--Shaggy reading his "Commander Cool" comic books, Freddie reading his latest copy of the "National Exaggerator," Velma toying with her computer and the Great Dane puppy napping quietly in the corner. Other times, though, she would go there to be alone, to escape the oppressive, stuffy world her parents expected her to inhabit. There was something special about that treehouse, and whenever she was there, the little redhead didn't have a care in the world.

For a moment, Daphne considered climbing the rope ladder that still hung from the tree's branches; then her common sense reminded her that at her current height, she would probably be unable to stand up inside the structure, yet alone, to fit through the door. And even if she could, fourteen just felt a little too old to be sitting in a treehouse; but Daphne didn't care. Just recalling those wonderful times was enough to soothe her frayed nerves. Taking a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, she propped herself up against the massive trunk, then drifted off to sleep.

"Daphne?"

The sound of her name roused the redhead from her nap. Slightly disgusted at having been awoken from her placid reverie, she ignored the call.

"Daphne," the speaker persisted; this time, there was a slight pause before the next words. "Daphne Blake, is that you?"

Curious, the young redhead looked up to find out to whom the voice belonged; standing in front of her was a handsome, teenage boy, his blond hair neatly combed in a side part, a light orange ascot resting just below the V-neck of his white sweater. Daphne's eyes grew wide as saucers, her jaw dropping nearly below the end of her scarf; she could scarcely believe who was standing in front of her. "Freddie?!" she gasped, incredulously.

The older boy smiled, nodding in response to her question.

Try as she did, Daphne could not take her eyes off the good-looking youth in front of her; at age fourteen, romance was a rather new concept. She had always imagined that one day, she would lose her heart to some boy, but she had never imagined that that boy would be Fred Jones.

Freddie Jones, who, as a boy, spoke of a supermarket tabloid as if it were a Pulitzer Prize winning journal. Freddie Jones, who talked incessantly about alien invasion plots, Mole Men and other "supernatural" entities. Freddie Jones, whose ignorance annoyed the little redhead beyond belief, now stood in front of her, a handsome, athletically built fifteen-year old. The passing of the years had done as much for the blond boy as they had done for Daphne.

Fred remained equally stunned by the girl in front of him. The pretty, sophisticated young teenager he saw was certainly a far cry from the spoiled little girl who worried about getting her dress dirty and who disparaged anyone or anything that did not agree with her tastes.

They had not been the best of friends as children; about the only thing they had in common was their friendship with Shaggy and Velma. Freddie regarded the redhead as a spoiled rotten rich girl, and Daphne saw the little blond boy as an immature annoyance who was completely unaware of his own ignorance. But all that was behind them now, and here they stood—a fourteen-year-old girl and a fifteen-year-old boy--gazing at one another with that look of longing that transcended the generations.

An uneasy silence reigned between them for awhile, and Daphne racked her brain for something to say to him. "So, uh, tell me, Freddie," she blurted, "uh, are the mushroom people planning to take over the earth any time soon?" It was certainly not the most intelligent conversation starter, but Daphne could think of little else to say; she was so smitten with the blond boy that she just could not think properly.

Freddie winced at the recollection; he hated being reminded how ignorant he had once been. "Well, I don't know anything about that," he began, "but I do know that one of the cheerleaders broke her leg last week, and that the girls are looking for a replacement."

"Oh?" Daphne replied, not yet sure of where the conversation was headed.

"I, uh, gave them your name and said that you might be interested," continued Fred. "I remember you used to like to dance when you were younger."

Daphne smiled considerately, her eyes still fixed on the handsome young man.

Freddie abruptly changed the direction of the conversation. "Uh, remember that ice-cream shop we used to go to when we were little?" he asked.

Daphne nodded.

Fred took a deep breath before he spoke his next words. "I was wondering if, maybe you wanted to…uh…go there and …uh…split a milk shake?"

The calm, level-headedness he had shown had shown just minutes earlier seemed to fall by the wayside in the presence of the pretty, redheaded teen, and it felt like an eternity before she responded.

"I'd love to, Freddie," she began, thinking of the unfinished homework lying on her desk, "but I really…"

The blond's shoulders slumped, physically acknowledging defeat. She said 'no.' I knew she would. Why did I even bother? But Fred wasn't ready to give up just yet. "Uh, my treat," he offered.

This time, the wait for a response seemed even longer.

"Well," Daphne began, "I suppose I could spare a few minutes…"

Freddie smiled. "I knew you could." He offered her his hand, then nervously retracted it, choosing instead to gesture for Daphne to go ahead of him. The redhead stifled a giggle, mildly amused by the blond's jittery state; Fred Jones appeared even cuter when he was scared, especially when he was trying to hide it.

Daphne helped herself up from the base of the tree, took a few steps, then glanced flirtatiously at Freddie, as if asking him, "are you coming?" Fred took a moment to compose himself, then fell in stride with the redhead. As they approached the storefront, he graciously held the door open for Daphne, gesturing chivalrously for her to go in ahead of him.

The corner ice-cream parlor and malt shop—she had been there hundreds of times before, but always with the rest of the gang. Now, she was there with only Freddie, and the place seemed strangely foreign to her. The blond led her to the gang's traditional booth in the corner by the window. "Please," he offered, again gesturing to her.

Daphne carefully made her way into the booth and took her usual seat underneath the window. The young redhead suddenly felt as though a couple of hamsters had started doing treadmill tricks in her stomach, and she wondered for a moment if she could even handle drinking a milkshake. The blond's query interrupted her thoughts.

"Strawberry, I seem to recall?"
Daphne nodded politely, never once taking her eyes off the blond boy as he stood at the counter to give the order. He returned a few moments later.

"Uh, I asked for two straws," he announced nervously, moving one of the straws towards Daphne; he didn't realize that he had positioned it right at eye level, and that the placement allowed the two of them to look right into each other's eyes. For the first time since she had met him, Daphne looked closely at his face. There was something very attractive about his eyes; they seemed to sparkle, radiating an aura of confidence and level-headedness that had not been present when he was a boy.

Her gaze unintentionally fell upon the wall clock behind the serving counter. A slight shudder ran through her body when she saw how late it was—it was 5:30 P.M. She had certainly not intended to stay away for that long! Where did the afternoon go? It was as though time had stopped while she was alone with the blond boy. The redhead racked her brain for an appropriate way to say farewell. She tried not to show that her mind had suddenly drifted to another topic, but the change did not go unnoticed to Freddie.

"Something wrong, Daph?" he asked, concerned.

"No," she began, her voice colored with regret, "it's just that…well…I really have to be going; I have so much work to do at home." She ducked her head, as she slid carefully out of the booth; she didn't want Freddie to see the disappointment on her face. Turning to leave, she looked briefly at him, and was surprised to see a similar expression of the face of the blond boy. He stood with his mouth half open, as if he too, was searching for the right way to part. Not wanting Daphne to leave so quickly, he blurted, "Uh, do you mind if I, uh, walk you back home? I'm going that way anyway…"

Daphne smiled. "Sure, I…I guess…Thank you."

The pair stopped in front of the gates to the mansion; Freddie had been there many times as a boy, but for some reason, the place loomed significantly larger at this moment. His blue eyes focused intensely on the wrought iron gates; once those gates opened, Daphne would go inside the driveway, the gates would close again and he'd lose her--at least for the day. He racked his brain for the right way to end his first "date." He knew in his heart what he wanted to do, but that wasn't the appropriate thing to do. Before he could do anything, though, Daphne made the first move, reaching into the bushes to press the button that opened the gates to the mansion's driveway. As the mechanism's gears ground to life, the young redhead gazed longingly at the blond boy; it was not a permanent goodbye, but to Daphne Blake, it felt that way.

"Thanks for the milkshake, Freddie," she said, noticeably more relaxed than she had been at the ice cream parlor.

The blond smiled. "You're welcome. And by the way," he added, "it's 'Fred' now."

Daphne acknowledged the comment with a smile. "Okay." She paused as she spoke the next word. "Fred."

For a moment, the pair stood in silence, gazing at each other, as though one expected the other to speak first. Acting on an uncharacteristic whim, Fred took Daphne's hands in his and lifted them; surprisingly, she did not resist. "So, I…I'll see you around, won't I?" It was a far from intelligent comment, but Fred could think of little more to say. Mercifully, the redhead didn't comment on his words, answering him only with a nod and a smile. He held her hands for awhile, then lowered them, releasing his grip only after her arms had reached her side.

Daphne turned and walked through the gates, waiting until they began to close before walking down the long driveway. Fred stood and watched as the gates closed; he knew he was losing her. "See you, Daph," he whispered, under his breath, before turning to walk home.

Daphne watched through the grills of the gate, continuing to wave even after the blond had disappeared around the corner. "Good bye, Fred," she spoke, dreamily, savoring the sound of his name on her tongue.

Daphne walked down the driveway with a certain lightness in her step. The words of an old, Irish love song played over and over in her head, and she began unconsciously humming the tune. She was in another world entirely, a world where the cares of the early afternoon and the pile of unfinished homework had ceased to have meaning. On the way to the front door, she bent down and plucked a small, pink flower from the garden patch, placing it in her hair just below her headband. Everything in the world seemed so perfect to her. She was in love.

And how do I feel right now?

Stepping out of my private world

Into something that scares me so, you know,

It feels like I'm falling,

Deeper into the unknown,

And I'm losing

The fight to stay alone,

And I'm falling,

Falling for you.