Velma [vehl-MAH (n.)-egomanic; bossy; often treads on others to get way; mother of Amber

Velma didn't hate Amber, which was something she prided herself on; why, it would have been so easy to hate her daughter as much as her own mother had hated her, but she'd promised herself, the second that screaming blonde tyrant came into her perfect little world that she would never, ever hate her.

Of course, this meant that she was constantly finding emotions to replace her disappointment in her only child. She didn't dance well enough, wasn't all that pretty (at least in comparison to Velma who, in her youth, had turned heads all the way to the store and back), wasn't smart, not that that mattered, and didn't earn anything.

This fact was, perhaps, the most hopeless thing about Amber M. Von Tussle. Velma had worked hard to get where she was. She'd slept with the judges to win the title of Miss Baltimore Crabs; she'd slept with Mr. Morrison to pass English her senior year; she'd slept with Brick Von Tussle to get his money; she'd slept with Corny Collins to get Amber on the show. Velma Von Tussle had worked very, very hard to get where she was and no snub-nosed little brat was going to take that away from her.

Velma didn't love Amber, not like Edna loved Tracy. Velma wasn't particularly proud of Amber, not like Maybelle was of Seaweed and Inez. Velma had no desire to protect Amber, not like Prudy did Penny. Velma wanted nothing for her daughter but wanted everything from her and this was where the snap occurred.

Lying in bed one night, well past two AM, Velma couldn't sleep. Amber had turned 18 not twenty four hours earlier and promptly moved out of the Von Tussle compound and into Corny's apartment.

"We're in love," Amber had spat through her tears as Velma threw her clothing out onto the vast front lawn.

"You don't know what love is," Velma shrieked back.

"No thanks to you, you bitch!" Amber's retort had been met with a smack across the face so hard that she saw stars and tasted blood.

"Velma!" Corny had roared, running out from the house. He grabbed Amber and pulled her into his arms. "You touch her again and I'll call the cops!"

"Get off my property, she's not welcome here and neither are you! I'll have your goddamn job, you pervert!" Velma was crazed with anger, her face flushed scarlet as Corny practically carried Amber to his car and sped off, leaving all of her belongings behind. Velma had stormed back into the house, slammed the door daft enough to splint the wood and started drinking.

Now, seventeen hours later, as she lay in bed, Velma realized what she'd known all along. She didn't hate Amber. She wasn't disappointed in Amber. She didn't love Amber.

She envied Amber.