Velma

Previously on Velma...

The last place my mom's cell phone pinged

the night she went missing was at Fred's house.

My name's Fred. Who are you?

They call me "The Thing."

Oh God, my heart!

Did that work?

Yeah.

Well, good luck finding your mom.

What the hell just happened?

So, yeah, let's do this.

I've avoided it long enough

with winks and nods.

Let's finally talk about only thing

you've ever really wanted to know about me.

- Is Velma Dinkley, ga--ga-- - Velma, snap out of it!

You fed the cat Sophie's prenatal vitamins.

Oh, sorry.

I was just thinking about mom, and only mom.

She disappeared at Fred's house. Bye.

Huh?

Norville.

Guess what Daphne gave me?

Uh, is it mononucleosis?

Because I saw you two kiss last night.

Daphne and me kiss, what? Her hands on my hips, what?

The heat of a thousand suns passing between us, what?

Time both infinite and finite -- Okay, we kissed. But it's not a big deal.

You possibly being gay is a huge deal.

For one, it reduces me to a cliched straight best friend.

Norville, we only kissed because Daphne was trying to stop a hallucination.

She gave me my mom's cold-case file. And guess what?

The last place her cellphone pinged, was Fred's house.

Wait, Fred. That's huge.

Though not, "you might be gay," huge.

Okay, stop.

In this day and age, you can't speculate

about someone's sexuality unless they're famous,

or Peppermint Patty.

Wait, you didn't tell anyone, did you?

Mazel on your first kiss, Velma.

- You told your dad? - He's a therapist.

I thought you might want to talk to someone

about whether you like women,

or maybe women and one cool guy?

Your dad is a high school guidance counselor,

the lowest form of therapist.

He's worse than the free therapy app I downloaded

that's obviously Russian spyware.

Okay, well, I think you're gonna have a little more respect

for my dad after this morning.

He's running a mental health assembly

to help students process the murders.

There's gonna be hella pamphlets.

Welcome, kids!

I'm Nutso, The Mental Health Squirrel.

Good morning, my students!

Good morning, Principal Rogers.

Good morning, Mom.

And now my turn.

Good morning, my students!

Good morning, Dad!

Good morning, my beautiful boy.

And welcome to the Crystal Cove High School

Mental Health Assembly.

How y'all doing, good?

Bad, you idiot!

Two of our friends had their brains removed by Fred Jones.

See, your dad is worse for teen mental health than waist trainers.

Well, you can talk to me about your feelings.

My dad says therapy is in my blood.

I just got my mom to admit she never wanted kids.

Norville, I don't need to talk to anyone about anything.

Oh, God. Daphne is looking right at me. Hide!

...comfortable opening up.

So in sum, you can't spell mental health without me.

You can't spell "Kill me," without me either.

Okay, okay. That's enough.

Unless someone has a topper?

No? Well, in addition to spending three minutes on mental health,

the school board is requiring that all girls attend

a women's self-defense class

to protect themselves from any future serial killers.

Uh, why don't the boys have to take a "Don't Murder Girls" class?

Because I only have $50 in the budget

to combat centuries of toxic masculinity.

Now, please welcome your women's self-defense class teachers.

Moms?

All right, ladies.

Who's ready to grab their friends

and roll around on the floor for a little bit?

So hot.

Oh, God. Get off your ass!

We're gonna talk to Fred about my missing mom right now.

Oh, give me one of those tattoos

that's actually secret clues about how to escape prison.

I learned how to do this while at Ole Miss.

I can do butterflies and Confederate flags.

Jones, there's, like, a talking meatloaf here to see you.

Velma?

Norville. How do I look?

Is it obvious I have two bean bags in my bra?

Wait. Are you still attracted to Fred?

He's a convicted serial killer who might be connected to your mom's disappearance.

That's why I'm so confused about Daphne.

Sure, she was my first kiss, but whenever I used to make out with my hand,

I called it Fred.

Okay, Velma, you have to talk about this with someone.

I don't have time.

I have to focus on finding out what happened to my mom.

So many mysteries, so little time.

-Daphne? -Maybe another kiss will help clear things up.

Muah!

Oh, God. I'm hallucinating.

Muah, muah, muah, muah, muah.

Hi.

Velma, what do I do?

Ah!

Should I kiss you like Daphne did?

Without consent, I'll remind you.

No, don't kiss me.

I'm already confused.

Kissing me would confuse you. Wait, why?

This isn't about you right now.

Just make me laugh like last time.

But a kiss might awaken passions we've been too scared to admit.

Why deprive ourselves that knowledge?

Oh, my God, that was hilarious.

Thank you, Nor--

Hey, get your friends off me.

Great, if I'm banned from prison,

how am I gonna question Fred about my mom's disappearance?

Let me question Fred. I have a plan.

You just need to figure out your feelings for Daphne.

Also, your bean bags are leaking.

Uh...

Okay, listen up.

These are the skills you need to survive.

When a massive, burly man springs up and attacks you,

notice, she said, when you get attacked, not if.

Don't fight.

Just make like a grown man who lightly stubbed his toe.

Yell, fall down, and go limp.

Now, to demonstrate.

We've pre-selected our own daughter, Daphne

to play the beautiful but vulnerable victim,

while the gruff assailant will be...

Ow.

-Velma. -Who's calling me gruff?

I'm not gruff.

Wait, I'm with Daphne.

Uh, I have to go to the bathroom.

Uh, me too.

- Hey. - Hey.

So, uh, this is so stupid, but before rolling around on each other,

I thought maybe we should

talk about our, uh, kiss.

Just in case you're confused.

I am.

I mean, hanging out and dealing drugs together yesterday

made me realize how much I've missed our friendship.

So I guess my question is, do you...

-like me? -Like you?

I haven't really thought about it.

You were dating Fred, until he went to prison.

Do you like me?

I asked you first.

Don't try to make me the vulnerable one here.

Well, I mean, you kissed me.

To stop your hallucination. But then you kissed me, like, whoa!

Well, then let's just say we kissed each other.

Even though we both know it was you who kissed me.

Which is impossible because I don't like you like that.

I like Fred.

Oh, good.

Because I don't like you like that either.

Perfect. We're on the same page.

Wow. I'm so glad we resolved all our issues

before we had to punch each other.

Me too.

And... Fight to see who's less vulnerable.

What the hell, Daphne?

If I was a real attacker, you could've hurt me.

You're supposed to go limp.

And potentially let myself get hurt by you instead?

My journal's not gonna believe this.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Cool it, ladies.

There is no room for personal beef in this class.

We are not here to attack each other.

-At least not until tomorrow. -Why?

What's tomorrow? Oh, no. Is it fajita day in the cafeteria?

Last year some kid lost an eye fighting for guac.

No, after mastering

today's self defense techniques, tomorrow you'll be competing

in the All Crystal Cove Women's Self Defense Class Tournament.

What? How will fighting girls help us defend ourselves against attacks from guys?

Is first prize a gun?

It is now. Great idea!

But the point of this is to determine

- who was the least vulnerable girl in school. - -Ugh!