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 Thief.
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…
Velma, snap out of it!
You fed the cat
Sophie's prenatal vitamins.
Sorry. I was just thinking about mom,
and only mom.
She disappeared at Fred's house. Bye.
Norville.
Guess what Daphne gave me?
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…
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.
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.
Daphne is looking
right at me. Hide!
So in sum, you can't spell
mental health without me.
You can't spell "k*ll 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 K*llers.
Why don't the boys have to take
a "Don't m*rder Girls" class?
Because I only have
dollars 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.
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 k*ller
who might be connected
to your mom's disappearance.
That's why I'm so confused
about Daphne.
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.
Oh, God. I'm hallucinating.
Hi.
Velma, what do I do?
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.
Okay, listen up.
These are the skills
you need to survive.
When a massive, burly man
springs up and att*cks you…
Notice, she said,
when you get att*cked, 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…
- Velma.
- Who's calling me gruff?
I'm not gruff.
Wait, I'm with Daphne.
I have to go to the bathroom.
Me too.
- Hey.
- Hey.
So, this is so stupid, but before
rolling around on each other,
I thought maybe we should
talk about our kiss.
- Just in case you're confused.
- I am.
I mean, hanging out and dealing dr*gs
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.
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.
Cool it, ladies. There is no room
for personal beef in this class.
We are not here
to att*ck each other.
- At least not until tomorrow.
- What's tomorrow?
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.
How will fighting girls help us defend
ourselves against att*cks from guys?
- Is first prize a g*n?
- It is now. Great idea!
But the point of this
is to determine
who was the least
vulnerable girl in school.
Is the best way to prevent an attacker
really just to become one?
Works for Batman.
Good luck tomorrow, girls.
And may the least vulnerable girl win.
Wait. You wanna give me
therapy? I don't know.
Jones men normally bury their emotions
until they explode on a family vacation,
Sure, but therapy isn't just
a great way for therapists to remodel
their kitchens.
It also helps people.
And I thought there might be
some things in your past
you'd want to discuss.
Like, how Father stood me up
at my birthday party?
I tried to steer the hot air balloon
myself, but I was only four.
Yeah, you'd think
we should start there…
But I'd actually
rather talk about moms.
I do miss my mom.
Prison is cool,
but nobody watches me pee
quite like Mother.
Wow, another great place
to start,
but what do you think
about Velma's mom?
Diya Dinkley, she went missing
at your house.
I think visiting time's over.
I should go.
Everything okay over here,
with the guy who put me in prison?
Look, pal.
I don't want any problems.
I'm just talking to my friend
on behalf of a female friend
who might become more than a friend
if I play my cards right.
You're wasting your time, buddy.
Romantic relationships between
old friends rarely work out.
- It's always one-sided.
- That's not true!
Okay, first girl to move the other
off the mat advances. Ready?
I'm going to b*at the Brazilian butt
lift out of you.
You'll never undo
the work of Dr. Gross.
I'm on the website.
And fight!
Pathetic.
I can't believe I was gonna fake
a limp to get out of this.
That's it. Go limp.
Protect my butt.
Please throw me on my face.
Sorry, I can't tell
which one's which.
Where do you think
you're going?
k*ll her, honey.
I mean, go sportsmanship!
Sportsmanship her up
and teamwork out the pieces.
I am not vulnerable.
No one will ever hurt me.
So he pushed me, and I said
classic transference
and that's the last thing
I remember.
Guess I'm not as great
a therapist as I thought.
Norville, stop.
First rule of therapy, you are as great
as you think you are.
Unfortunately, no one will ever take
you seriously as a therapist
without this one little thing.
A PhD in psychology?
Please. I never finished mine
and literally no one's checked. No.
The only thing a therapist
really needs is a good cardigan.
It makes you look so dumpy
and non-threatening,
people instantly feel comfortable
opening up to you.
How do I look?
Like I want to scream
about how loud your mom chews.
Hey, it's working already.
Daphne, this is ridiculous.
Are we really going to fight instead
of just talking about what happened?
If memory serves,
I asked you a question.
I'm still waiting for an answer.
Fine. I'll admit it.
I do like you like that.
What, are you scared
of having feelings for a girl?
Velma, please.
I have two moms.
I was baptized
on the set of Ellen.
It's just I have
a lot more at stake than you.
Daphne.
Why are you talking to that?
I get it.
You have more at stake,
because I'm not as popular as you.
What? You're not popular at all.
Well, let's see how popular
you are,
after I kick
your perfect ass, Daphne,
I'll give you something
to journal about.
Dear Diary,
gird your loins.
Wait, they pulled me
out of mosque for you?
Yes. I thought we could
continue your therapy.
What? No way.
Why would I wanna…
Whoa, I feel funny.
Did they drug our food again?
So what were we
talking about, Doc?
We were discussing
your feelings
about the night Velma's mom,
Diya, went missing.
Right, so Father had
just bought our house.
It was a dump. And he had
this brilliant idea to burn it
for the insurance money.
But instead of fraud,
you committed m*rder.
I wish. You can get over m*rder,
but this could ruin a man.
I'll never tell.
So unflattering
and disarming.
The truth is, on the night
we were going to burn it down,
my father stood me up,
just like on my birthday.
Only this time, Bill Gates
didn't even jump out of a cake for me.
Wait, that's it?
And that's worse than m*rder?
Then some Indian lady pulled up.
Yes. Tell me about her.
Why, you into that? Respect.
- No. What was she doing there?
- I don't know.
My dad told me never
to pay attention to women over .
Okay. This is useless.
You clearly had nothing
to do with Diya's kidnapping.
Sorry, Doc.
You're not getting out of here
until you help me
with my passive aggression.
But if you really wanna leave,
I guess I can just go suffer
with the other guys
waiting to talk to you.
Welcome fans
of women's self-defense!
Now who's ready for some
bone-crushing empowerment?
In one corner,
weighing in at pounds,
and with a social media
reach of ,
Daphne,
"the Ginger Jack-Hammer" Blake.
And in the other corner,
weighing in at "how-dare-you?"
and with a social media reach of
"she says she's too good for it",
Velma, Indian middle name,
Dinkley.
Sit down.
Now let's find out
which girl is less vulnerable.
Hydrate up. You're gonna need it
when you're crying later.
I haven't seen someone
this overly confident
since my moms
on election day, .
Really thought Jill Stein had it.
Anyway. Fight!
What? How's your stomach so hard?
Are you a robot?
Is that why you never shower
after gym?
No, my stomach's
like my lips,
soft, and a lot of weird noises
come out of it.
What you felt was…
- Wait, that's my journal.
- Yeah.
And I'm about to perform
the audiobook.
With voices and everything.
Velma, please don't do this.
You hurt me. I hurt you.
Hey, everyone. So you all think
that Daphne is the perfect,
beautiful, girl-next-door, right?
Well, it's a lie.
According to her own journal,
Daphne is so messed up
that she has a daily session
with our school
guidance counselor, Lamont.
to discuss her issues.
Guys, come on.
I just made Daphne vulnerable.
I win.
Now laugh as we watch
her precious popularity fade away.
Why would we do that?
Mental health is no joke,
no matter how lame Lamont is.
Yeah. No matter how lame I am.
Daphne, Daphne!
Oh, no!
Velma, the only way
you're going to avoid suspension
is if you apologize to Daphne.
I have to apologize?
She kicked me so hard,
my tubes are now tied.
Yes, but you hurt her feelings,
which is way worse these days.
Now, would you care
to tell me why?
No way. And good luck
trying to get in my head
without your cardigan, sucker.
Yeah, Norville told me
about your little trick.
Fine. I know I have to talk
to someone
about my feelings
for Daphne, but…
But my mom is the person
I talk to when I'm confused.
And talking to anyone else
feels like a betrayal,
like I'm admitting
she's gone for good.
I see that, but hasn't
not talking to someone else
gotten you even further
from finding her?
Okay. That feels smart,
but it's coming from you, so…
Yeah. No,
I surprised myself there.
I'm really just supposed
to talk to kids about college,
but my point is…
Nope. Lost it.
I think you meant that
by refusing to figure out
my feelings for Daphne
in the beginning,
I just made this whole mess
with her instead.
That's it. You know,
a smart girl like you
would be real
Smith College material.
Okay, but do I still have
to apologize to Daphne?
I only read her journal because
she said she was too popular for me.
Up to you, Velma.
But sometimes
when you're being att*cked,
the best thing to do is…
Go limp. You're right.
I was going to say
go for the eyes!
So it looks like Fred
isn't connected
to your mom's disappearance.
Good news, right?
No, it's terrible news.
It means my big clue is a dead end,
and Fred is probably innocent.
Yeah, but isn't it
a little comforting
to see a rich white guy
get wrongly convicted for once?
I'm too distracted to enjoy it.
I need to make things right
with Daphne.
Wait for me, okay?
Unless you feel like getting me a snow
cone and immediately coming back.
Sure. I don't have anything else
scheduled for right now. Crap!
Well, -minute rule.
Norville is not coming.
Guess I'll have to channel
my childhood trauma
into becoming a lawyer
and helping my imprisoned
brothers appeal their convictions.
No, nobody leaves.
Why does everyone think
they can stand me up?
Okay. Riot it is.
What do you want, Velma?
I came to apologize.
I'm sorry I read your journal
out loud to everyone in school.
- Velma.
- Yes, I know, I know.
- Now you want to apologize to me.
- For what?
For saying I'm not popular enough
for you.
- I never said that.
- Well, someone said it.
- You said it
- And I meant it.
This has nothing to do
with popularity, Velma.
Do you even know
why I've been talking to Lamont?
No, honestly, I just flipped through
your journal looking for sexy stuff.
Bit of a snooze, IMHO.
Okay, well, I'm talking to him
because searching
for my birth parents
has brought up a lot of feelings
of abandonment for me.
I'm sorry.
- When my mom…
- Exactly.
When your mom went missing
you abandoned me too.
What? Only after you got hot
and ditched me.
That's not true.
You shut me out first.
I shut everyone out.
I still haven't seen my dentist,
nor do I intend to.
Okay, so maybe a little fault
in our falling out lies with me.
And then we kissed,
and it was amazing.
But you said you didn't like me
like that and I freaked out.
'Cause I thought you're going
to go away again.
So wait, is this an apology?
Well, do you like me?
You know I do.
But I'm also, k*ll me,
super attracted to Fred.
You do need therapy.
Honestly, I think
what I really need is a friend.
Me too.
But also,
maybe a friend who fu…
No. Let's just keep it simple
and try and be friends again.
Yeah, you're right.
I can only obsess
over one woman at a time.
And right now
it has to be my mom.
So should we hug it out?
Friends hug, boobs touch,
no crotch.
Boobs touch, no crotch.
- Maybe, let's just shake. Yeah?
- Yes, love a shake.
Just two friends,
sharing a casual handshake.
- Good night, friend.
- Good night, friend.
Well, at least my hallucinations
are back to normal.
What the hell, Norville?
You're supposed to drive me home.
Now I have to walk.
I have literally never been madder.
Hi, Dad.
Son, I hate to say it, but you're
not ready for the cardigan.
With medium power
comes medium responsibility.
I know. I'm sorry.
Crystal Cove Insane Asylum?
Why is this in here?
What? That.
I have a friend who works there.
Doctor Bad Excuse.
Why do you have this, Dad?
Son, there's something
I need to tell you about your mother.
Hey, stranger.
Look, a cabin.
We can ask directions to town.
Ask directions?
I thought your nickname
was The Thief, not The Puss.
Fine, suit yourselves.
Okay, now who has a phone
so I can call my driver?
You guys want to use
one of your drivers?
Freeze! Police!
You'll never take me alive.
But why won't we take you alive,
Fred?
Because I wanna look tough
to impress my father.