Burned Out
Chapter 1:Re-esteemers
A/N: Well, I thought I'd try my hand at this Daria story that's been niggling at the back of my brain for some time now. You've read the description, so you know the premise, but let me spell out some things for you. First of all, this is essentially going to be a retelling of the series, episode-for-episode, more or less. Some episodes will be skipped (I can tell you right now that the musical episode is one such), and entirely new "episodes" may appear now and then. Secondly, since we've all seen the show (I hope, or you wouldn't be here), you've essentially seen it from Daria's point of view. This one is more or less going to be from Jennifer's (Burnout Girl's) perspective. It won't be first person, and it won't just be her POV, but she will be the main focus. Thirdly, since BG has what boils down to no character in canon, I get to make up whatever I want for it. Caveat emptor.
Heaving a world-weary sigh, Jennifer closed her locker and looked up at the clock hanging in the hall. Well, let's get this over with. She shuffled into the classroom, happy to note that her favorite seat near the back was empty, and slumped into it, dropping her backpack on the floor next to her. The other usual students slowly trickled in, garnering no more interest from her than if a fly had wandered in. She took out a sheet of paper and started doodling on it, trying but failing to get the image of a harpy in her head down on paper.
The familiar sound of a pair of "Doc Martins" tromping into the room finally drew Jennifer's attention from her work, and she saw a new face in her class of a half dozen or so. The new girl did indeed wear boots, but incongruously, she had paired them with a black, pleated skirt and a green jacket over a tan t-shirt. Jennifer could see her eyes scanning the room from behind a pair of round glasses, and gave her a surreptitious nod towards the desk next to her, when the eyes finally passed over her.
The girl stood there a moment longer, before shrugging as if in resignation, and took the offered seat. Neither of them spoke, and Jennifer returned to her attempt at art, while this new girl took out a notepad and mechanical pencil from her bag. Mr. O'Neil chose that moment to walk in and begin the self-esteem class, which almost no one in the room actually needed. He was well into his lecture, when the new girl raised her hand and said, "Excuse me. I have a question."
Mr. O'Neil was clearly taken aback at the disruption to his finely tuned lecture, and blinked at her for a second. "Sorry, question and answer time is later," he replied.
Undeterred, the new girl asked in her monotone voice, "I want to know what 'realizing your actuality' means."
Jennifer smirked a little at this, but Mr. O'Neil was not about to let his speech be derailed. "It means... look, just let me get through this part, okay? Then there'll be a video!" He even gave a thumbs-up and a smile, as if this made up for his complete lack of an answer. Without letting her reply, he returned to his lecture.
The new girl frowned a little, and Jennifer felt a little sorry for her. Leaning over, she whispered, "I don't think he actually knows what it means. You know how some people like to throw around buzz words to sound intelligent without bothering to learning what they mean?"
"But how am I supposed to follow him if I don't know what he's saying?" she persisted.
Jennifer gave a small smile and patted her backpack. "Don't worry. I have the notes my older sister took when they forced her through this class. We can go over them later together if you like."
The other girl looked a little abashed at the offer, but nodded. "Thanks." She held out her hand, and said, "Name's Daria, by the way."
Jennifer took it and smiled a little more. "Jennifer, but everyone calls me Burnout Girl."
Daria looked a little confused and quirked an eyebrow up in a move reminiscent of Spock. "Burnout Girl?"
"You peel out once in Driver's Ed, and you're labeled for life," she replied with a roll of her eyes.
This seemed to ease Daria's discomfort, and even made the corners of her mouth twitch in an almost-smile.
(\ /)
( . .)
*(")(")
Walking down the road, Jennifer pointed to the next item on the list of topics covered by the class on the paper in her hand. "So, then there's the roleplaying, though Sam said that there's no dice involved, more's the pity. And then they separate us by gender, and a female councilor talks to us about body image."
"What do they talk to the boys about?" Daria asked.
They stopped and both smirked. In unison, they said, "Public erections."
They resumed walking and Daria asked, "So, if you've got the whole course laid out for you by your big sister, why don't you just take the test so you can get out early?"
"And give Mr. O'Neil the mistaken impression that he's actually a competent teacher?"
Daria hit her head with the heel of her hand. "Of course. What was I thinking?"
Jennifer stopped as they came to a corner and started to turn down another street. "Listen, this has been fun and all, but I've got to get home and start on dinner. Can we pick this up again tomorrow?"
Without an ounce of emotion betraying her feelings, Daria replied, "Oh, sure. Leave me in my hour of need." She smiled a little to lessen the sting of her words and nodded. "I'll see you in class tomorrow, then."
Jennifer watched her walk away and turn to enter a red brick home, before resuming her own trek home. She didn't even notice the car in the driveway, nor her uncharacteristic whistling as she walked into what she thought would be her empty home. She was startled to see her sister, Samantha reclining on the couch and flipping through the TV channels. "Sam? I thought you were working today."
The woman looked up, but had to brush a stray lock of snow-white hair out of the way to see. "I was, but they let me go early. The strip mall was dead today." As Jennifer started into the kitchen, she added, "I brought home dinner from work; it's in the oven."
Rolling her eyes, Jennifer opened the oven to find what Samantha always brought home, pizza. This wouldn't be so bad if Pizza King weren't so terrible. I think the box has more nutritional value than the pizza itself. Tastes better, too.
Still, beggars can't be choosers, so she plopped a couple of slices onto a paper plate and walked into the living room to watch TV with her sister. "What's on?" she asked between mouthfuls.
Samantha sat up and leaned against her little sister, shoulder-to-shoulder. "Blegh. Nothing good. You coming to practice, tonight?"
Swallowing her mouthful, Jennifer replied, "That depends. Is Monique going to raise a fuss about me leaving before two a.m.? It is a school night, you know. I can't keep skipping classes like I did today."
The older woman stole a pepperoni off her pizza and said, "Don't worry, little sis. I'll talk to her. She knows The Harpies wouldn't be the same without you behind the microphone."
Jennifer grunted noncommittally as she took a last bite off the slice and dropped the pizza bone on the plate.
"So, how was self-esteem class today? Totally acing it with my notes, huh?" Samantha asked as she turned the channel to MTV, where for once, they were actually playing music videos in the middle of the day.
"Meh. They let me just coast, so I can do actual important things like finish my homework, which in turn, means I can make it to practice," Jennifer replied, wiping her hands on a napkin. "Oh. But I did make a friend in that class."
Samantha perked up at this news. "Oh, ho! Do tell! Who is it? What's her name? Or is it a he?" she asked, with an evil grin as she nudged her with an elbow.
Jennifer rolled her eyes. "Ugh! I literally just met her today! Gimme a break!" Seeing that she wasn't going to get any peace until some details were divulged, she sighed. "Her name's Daria. She's a brain, but got a wit sharper than a razor, and isn't afraid to use it. We're going to meet up tomorrow to go over your notes some more."
"Sounds like a real firecracker," Samantha noted. "Why don't you invite her to see us perform at the Zon, Friday? I'll drive you two to get a burger at Angel's afterwards; my treat."
"Weeelll..." Jennifer hemmed and hawed for a bit, but they both knew it was a forgone conclusion. Angel's made the best burgers the two had ever eaten, and they came with a basket of fries bigger than your head. "I suppose it can't hurt to ask her." She idly picked at the pizza bones on the plate, then said, "I think we should play Deadly is the Night. It's our strongest song."
"And you don't want her to think we're just a lame band like the Spiral?" Samantha asked.
Unable to meet her eyes, Jennifer stared at the TV where AC/DC was jamming out Who made Who? "I just... I want to make a good impression, you know? She seems to have her head on straight, and isn't a total bore in a conversation. Andrea and Shaggy are cool and all, but they just don't get me. They have their own crowds they hang out with, and I'm just kinda... on the fringe, you know?"
Samantha tousled her sister's hair and pulled her into a hug. "Yeah, I get you. I'll talk to the girls. If we all gang up on her, Monique will cave and play it. She may not like it, but you're right; it is our best song. It doesn't hurt that it really lets you cut loose on the vocals, neither."
Jennifer blushed lightly. "Shouldn't we be getting to practice?"
Glancing at the clock, Samantha jumped up. "Oh, damn! We gotta motor! I'll meet you in the car, I need to grab some money for gas."
With a smile at the retreating back of her sister, Jennifer made her way to the garage. Yeah. Maybe this friendship will last longer than a few weeks.
(\ /)
( . .)
*(")(")
The next day saw Jennifer and Daria walking the halls, on their way to history class. As they walked, they passed Quinn talking- well, flirting, really- with a boy. While he was above average in looks, it was readily apparent that Quinn was only testing the waters, seeing how far he was willing to go for her, and like a fish that doesn't even know it's been hooked, he just kept swimming ahead, heedless of the financial dangers ahead. "So... like, what do you like to do after school?" he asked.
Smelling blood in the water, Quinn prodded the still flailing body to see what fell out. "Oh, nothing special. Go to the movies... or, like, a theme park... or out for a really fancy meal now and then... or maybe go to a concert, if, like, I know somebody's got good seats and is renting a limo and stuff."
The boy finally saw the danger, and nervously looked for an escape route, but it was already too late. Jennifer smirked and shook her head. She wasn't really one to engage in idle gossip, but she couldn't help herself this time. "Poor dope. He hasn't got a chance," she said with a snort.
Daria rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it. That's my sister."
"My condolences," Jennifer replied.
The boy obviously didn't know when to cut his losses, and tried to change the subject to something potentially less expensive. "So, you got any brothers or sisters?"
Much to Jennifer's shock Quinn replied, "I'm an only child."
Jennifer could see how much this bothered Daria, and decided to use this as an opening. "You know, that concert idea she suggested is not a bad one. I'm... sorta in a band with my sister and we play at this local club sometimes. We're no Pink Floyd or nothing, but we do pretty all right. We're gonna perform Friday night, so why don't you come with? My sister said she'll spring for burgers if I manage to increase our audience size by one."
"I don't know..." Daria replied.
Resting a hand on her friend's shoulder, Jennifer said, "Aw, come on. It'll help you get over suddenly finding yourself an only child."
Daria glanced at her and smiled a little at the distinct lack of malice in Jennifer's face. "All right, you twisted my arm. But these burgers better be magnificent. I'm not exactly big on crowds; I barely manage to get through school without running and screaming into the night."
Jennifer smiled back at her success. "I think we're safe on that count. It won't be dark for hours, yet."
(\ /)
( . .)
*(")(")
Samantha pulled her beat up old Dodge Charger into the Morgendorffer driveway and threw it into park, letting it idle throatily. "All right, now hurry up. We got ten minutes to get there early so we can set up my drums," she said to Jennifer, who was already sprinting to the door before the car even came to a complete stop.
Nervously ringing the doorbell, Jennifer hopped slightly from foot to foot and straightened the black leather jacket she wore on stage for the band's image instead of her usual army surplus jacket. It took almost a minute before the door was opened and she came face-to-face with a tall, middle-aged, and worn-out looking man, who asked, "Can I... help you?"
Jennifer suddenly felt very self-conscious under his scrutiny and squirmed a little. "Um, i- is D- Daria-"
She never got any further as Daria herself appeared and squeezed past her father. "Thanks, Dad. I got it from here." She turned Jennifer around and began pushing her towards their ride.
Still suspicious, Jake called out, "Be careful, Kiddo! And don't stay out too late!"
Rather than reply, Daria simply gave a wave to him as they piled into the car, with her pushing a snare drum across the bench seat in the back. She was still buckling her seatbelt as Samantha pulled away, eager to get to the club in time.
Once the house was out of sight, Jennifer said, "Daria, this is my sister, Sam. She plays drums in the band. Sam, Daria Morgendorffer."
Samantha looked back over her shoulder, accidentally turning the wheel with her, but Jennifer was prepared for this, and automatically reached over to correct the drift. "Hey, Daria, Samantha Peterson, but you can just call me Sam." She reached over a hand to shake, which Daria did quickly so she could return her attention to the road.
"Um, pleased to meet you," she said.
"Hey, don't worry about getting stuck in that self esteem class. That's where they put anyone who displays the tiniest bit of independent thought. I was forced to take it all four years of high school. Never did pass it, though I did get to run Mr. O'Neil spare with questions about his speech," The snow-haired woman said with a chuckle.
Jennifer rolled her eyes as she returned control of the steering wheel to the driver. "Unlike you, me and Daria have better ways to spend our afternoons than listening to someone tell us why we have low self esteem and how to fix it."
"Like watching paint dry," Daria said quietly.
Jennifer nodded and shot her a smile. "Yeah, like that."
The club was fairly empty for a Friday night, but the sun had yet to go down, so everyone was still holding out hope. Daria got in on a comp ticket courtesy of Jennifer, and got a soda from the bar while the band was setting up on the stage. She noted the name of the band on the giant banner hanging behind them. The Harpies? Makes sense, I guess, since they're all female. I just hope they're better singers than the mythological creatures.
It didn't take long for her to find out, as the band made a final sound check just ten minutes after starting their set up. The crowd had filled out considerably in that time, most of them looking pretty excited about something. She did manage to catch some skinny guy with a shaved head and a safety pin in his ear talking to a muscly guy with long hair about some girl saying that they were playing their best song, which is why some guy named Trent wasn't showing up.
The lights went low, and the crowd went almost silent until the first notes of a guitar riff went out, sending the audience wild with a cheer that made Daria's teeth rattle. And then, the spotlight opened up on Jennifer, who seemed to have undergone a transformation since Daria had last seen her. Gone was the quiet, mousey girl with half her face hidden by a curtain of hair. Standing behind the microphone now, was nothing less than a deathmetal punk valkyrie in black leather and lace belting out her war song.
You think you're ready
(you're not, you're not)
You want to fight
(too weak, too weak)
You stand your ground
(you're lost, you're lost)
You turn to run
(too late, too late)
You thought to conquer us,
but lack the will.
As your strength turns to dust,
we move in for the kill.
You do what you must,
but we have the skill.
So lay down to die
as we take your hill.
Deadly! Deadly!
Deadly is the niiight!
Deadly! Deadly!
Deadly is our miiight!
You don't stand a chance,
so surrender now, 'cause
Deadly is the niiight!
Your numbers mean nothing
against our might.
Your skills are disgusting
beneath our sight.
You can't stop sucking;
it is your plight.
So stop all your running
away from our light.
Deadly! Deadly!
Deadly is the niiight!
Deadly! Deadly!
Deadly is our miiight!
You don't stand a chance,
so surrender now, 'cause
Deadly is the niiight!
After the second chorus, the lead guitarist, a rail-thin woman with more piercings than a head shop jammed out on her instrument in a solo that went on for far too long in Daria's opinion, but really, she didn't pay it any mind, as her eyes were glued to Jennifer. The girl was headbanging in time with the solo, sending her blonde hair whipping around that Daria was sure would give her whiplash, but the crowd was lapping it up like a kitten at a puddle of spilled milk. Several times, it looked like Jennifer was about to start singing, but the solo played on. After almost five minutes of this, Sam missed a beat, causing the guitarist to break out of her groove, and giving her sister a chance to wrap up the song.
You see you don't stand a chance;
your armor is broken.
You're standing in a trance;
your words, all spoken.
You raise a broken lance;
a useless token.
You look up in askance;
your question unspoken.
It's the same song and dance;
Every one heartbroken.
Deadly! Deadly!
Deadly is the niiight!
Deadly! Deadly!
Deadly is our miiight!
You don't stand a chance,
so surrender now, 'cause
Deadly is the niiight!
As soon as the last note was played, the audience went wild, nearly rushing the stage. It took the lights coming back on before the crowd would settle down enough for the band to play their next song, which wasn't as strong as their first. They played three more before taking a break, but by that time, the audience had settled down from the high of that first song, and were mostly just milling about, talking over the music. They still applauded when the Harpies took five, most of them seemed to be aiming the praise at Jennifer as she made her way toward the bar where Daria was seated.
The blonde plopped down on the stool and took a napkin from the dispenser to wipe the sweat off of her face. "Whew! So what did you think?"
Daria took a sip from her soda and nodded. "You're like a totally different person up there. I was really impressed by that first song, though. It must have been about something really emotional for you."
Jennifer grinned, and accepted a glass of ice water from the bartender, downing it all in one go. "Well, I didn't write, I just sing it. Though, it does give me a reason to scream my head off, so there's that."
"Truly, a glass half full point of view," Daria replied. After a moment, she said, "I've been giving this self esteem class thing some more thought."
"That's already more thought than I give it, but what about it?" Jennifer asked.
Staring into her drink, Daria said, "I may not have anything special going on after school, but I know you do, so why not try to get out of it earlier? We got everything we need to pass it, and freeing up our afternoons would mean more time to hang out, and we don't have to listen to Mr. O'Neil drone on about our alleged low self esteem."
Jennifer rested her chin on her hand as she considered her friend's words. "Hmm... You do bring up some good points, and the girls were pretty ticked about me having to miss so much practice time." She sat in silent contemplation a minute more before saying, "Alright. I guess it can't do any harm to try."
(\ /)
( . .)
*(")(")
Jennifer glared over at Daria as they sat on the stage waiting for their turn at the microphone. "I was wrong. It can and is doing harm- lots of harm."
Daria for her part, had the grace to give her a hangdog expression before looking down at the ground again. "Sorry," was all the she could manage.
The blonde laid a hand on her arm and patted her reassuringly. "It's fine. Mr. O'Neil always tends to go overboard in one direction or the other, with little regard for others' actual feelings. Just stick to your script, and we'll get some measure of satisfaction out of this."
They listened as Ms. Li nattered on about bake sales and collecting DNA samples until she gave the floor over to O'Neil. "Thank you. You know, self-esteem is a little like your car's brake fluid. You may not even know you're low on it until, one day, you go to shift gears and nothing happens."
From out of the darkened auditorium, a lone voice called out, "That's transmission fluid!" eliciting a susurration of titters and chuckles.
Pink staining his cheeks, O'Neil cleared his throat. "That's... what I said. Anyway, I'd like you to meet two students who have completed our self-esteem course faster than anyone ever before! Please join me in congratulations as I present these certificates of self-esteem to... Daria Morgendorffer and Jennifer Peterson."
Heaving a sigh, Jennifer rose from her chair. "Here goes nothin'." Mounting the podium, she cleared her throat, and nervously looked out over the auditorium. "You know, it's good to have self esteem. And having this certificate proves that I have it, and no one can take that away from me. Unless someone were to take the certificate, I suppose... and my self esteem with it. But who would even know I had low self esteem? Wait..." A look of dawning horror swept across her face, and she ran from the stage, certificate clutched tightly to her chest, and audience laughing loudly.
O'Neil took off after her, shouting, "Daria, wait!"
Seeing that her turn was up, Daria went to the podium and began reciting the speech that she had memorized, not bothering with the note cards in her pocket. She already knew exactly how to rip into her chosen target. "No one can battle a terrible problem like low self-esteem on their own. It takes good coaching..."
Out in the audience, Quinn nervously watched the stage, hoping against hope that nothing that would damage her toehold on the social scene that she had carefully crafted for the past week. She barely even acknowledged the boys' insults directed at the people onstage.
"...realize my actuality. Winning the fight against low self-esteem takes support... from teachers, from friends, and most of all, from family."
Quinn froze, an icy hand crushing her heart in its grip. No, please, God, no!
"And so, the one person I'd like to thank more than any other is my very own sister, Quinn Morgendorffer." Daria paused long enough to enjoy the shocked gasps from the assembled students, staring directly at the shock of red hair that she knew could only be Quinn. "My sister Quinn has forgotten more about self-esteem than I'll ever know. Are you out there, sis? Stand up and let me thank you."
More shocked gasps and fevered whispering filled the room as Daria gave the first full smile she'd had since moving to Lawndale.
(\ /)
( . .)
*(")(")
Samantha stopped her drumming on the living room coffee table as Jennifer walked in and dropped her backpack next to the door heaving a big sigh of relief. "Rough day?"
Jennifer looked over to her elder sibling and asked, "How are you even still employed? Doesn't Pizza King still serve customers?" She rolled her eyes at Samantha's silent grin. "To answer your question, yeah, it was a little rough. Standing in front of an audience is pretty intimidating."
Quirking an eyebrow at her, Samantha said, "This, from a girl who routinely goes up on a stage and sings until her throat is raw and sore?"
"That's different. I'm in costume, then, and singing takes up too much attention to let me worry about the staring." She walked over and plopped down on the couch, trying to let all her stress drip away. "Besides, we've never had an audience larger than a few dozen. Lawndale High has several hundred students." Turning her head, she saw Samantha's worried expression, and lightly punched her in the arm. "Oh, knock it off. I'll be fine. It's not like standing up in front of the whole school endangered any friendships I may have had; I only had the one to begin with."
With a grunt, she leaned forward and stood, all in one motion. "Speaking of which, I need to dip into the emergency funds; I'll pay it back when Mom gives me my allowance. Me and Daria are going to the UFO convention this Saturday. A treat to ourselves for passing the class early."
Samantha wiped away an imaginary tear and sniffed. "They grow up so fast."
Na, na, naaa, na, na...