Daria Digs
Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for material gain. All characters are fictitious.
Daria brought herself back from Melody Powers land as she became aware of Tiffany and Stacy glaring at her. She vaguely recalled hearing something thump near her, just off to her left.
"Oh yeah, I should look like I'm blocking or stopping the ball or something."
She slowly held out her left hand palm out.
Tiffany hissed and Stacy growled in frustration. The two shook their heads, glanced at each other then turned forward to receive another serve from the opposing team. This server could put a hard topspin on her serves or she could make the serve seem to float and wiggle as the ball came over the net. She knew-as did her whole team and every other team and Daria's own team- just where the vulnerable spot was. She aimed her missile just to Daria's right this time.
Daria brought herself back from Melody Powers land as she became aware of a thud in front of her and a thump to her right. She stuck out her right hand palm out for an instant.
"Tweet, tweet," shrilly sounded out Coach Morris's whistle. Morris came onto the court and checked out Tiffany and Stacy who were crumpled on the floor. The two were only mildly dazed from their impact while simultaneously attempting to check the serve meant for Daria, lying more in irritation and resignation than injury. Morris helped the two of them up then turned to Daria.
"Morgendorffer," Coach Morris began as shrilly as her whistle. Daria realized that as she slipped into Melody Powers land this time she would also have to keep up an autopilot spout of contrition.
"Daria," Morris suddenly surprised her with. Daria had heard or seen no previous indication that Morris knew anyone's first name.
"Daria," Morris started with again in a softer tone. Daria looked into the coach's eyes and saw she was being addressed with a galling combination of suppressed anger and pity.
"Don't you want to play the game? I've seen you exercise, Daria. You're not totally unathletic. You have potential to contribute to your team and learn teamwork."
"Ms. Morris, under your unstinting dedication and fine examples of leadership I have learned teamwork. I have learned how and when to move slowly clockwise from position to position on the gym floor."
Morris opened her mouth wide and Daria was certain the yelling would commence followed by the order to run ten laps of which Daria, having learned how to convincingly loaf and lope, would complete perhaps three or four before the class had to end.
But Coach Morris caught herself and closed her mouth. She gritted her teeth and started again with the galling pity, applied publicly during gym class.
"Daria, I know you can play volleyball if you try. You can apply yourself and not let your team down. Why, even a pipsqueak like you can have some talent for volleyball. Or maybe not. You ARE the shortest girl in your class. Even freshman," she gestured at Tiffany and Stacy, "are taller than you."
Morris started to say more but gave up, shook her head and went off to supervise at another court while muttering something about Li's budget cuts forcing her to coach freshmen and sophomores together.
"Pipsqueak? Shortest girl? Well, okay she's got me there." She was aware she was probably being played but just then Daria had developed a desire to smack the volleyball around. Hard. She drew herself up to her five-foot-one-and-one-half-inch and growing full height and prepared for another serve, readying herself but not really knowing what to do when the ball surely came for her.
Tweet. "Showers, ladies," marked the end of gym class and interrupted the server's blast.
As they hit the locker room Daria could hear not so hidden mumblings against her from her teammates.
"I wish she could just try." "Yeah, and she acts so superior with that stupid little smile." "She's the shortest but at least she could learn to bump."
"Damn, you guys," a loud new voice took over. "Just freaking let her be, okay? It's not like a real fucking game; it's just shitty gym."
Daria looked at the voice's owner, Mai Ling, a tall Asian girl who was taking love-in-Tokyo hair beads out of her long black hair.
Another of Daria's faithful teammates took up the protest. "Mai, you should be madder at her than anybody. You're the best spiker and server on the varsity team. You're the only reason we're not dead last place in gym; just second to last."
"Hell, that's mainly why I don't care. I play hard in gym but I save my energy for the real damn games. If you guys fucking practiced more you'd be okay but none of you are really that stinking good right now anyway. You all suck shit."
The grumbling mainly stopped as the girls tried to get a good shower and fixing of makeup in before the next period. Daria managed to shower away from the other girls and their glares.
Gym was quickly forgotten by everyone but Daria who thought about volleyball for the rest of the day. She had the last class of the day with Mai. As Mai was getting her books out of her locker, Daria sheepishly approached.
"Umm, Mai?"
Mai turned with a smile but quickly looked down nervously when she saw Daria. Daria put her hand behind her head and rubbed her hair, equally nervous.
"Oh hi, Daria. Hey, don't let those clowns in gym get you down. I bet you got way more important things to think about than volleyball."
"Yeah, Mai. Volleyball, yeah. Actually, I was wondering if you could coach me. You know, the basics. I sort of wasn't paying attention to Morris much."
Mai grinned hugely, the smile reaching her canted eyes. "Hell, yeah! I gotta go home right now and help Dad fix the tractor. How about we start tomorrow after school? We can go to the Walnut street park. There's usually nobody there but little kids."
As Mai breezed out the doors, she gave Daria a parting glance and grin. Daria waved slightly, wondering just then what they were both getting into.
A/N: I conceive of Mai as the Asian background character near the end of See Jane Run. She is as unenthusiastically waving pom poms around as Daria and Jane. As far as I can tell, no one in fan fiction has given her a name or role before.
DM DM DM DM DM
"I know I'm being played but I can't help it, Jane. I'm disgusted with myself."
"You mean more than usual, Daria?" Jane continued to sketch while seated on Daria's computer chair.
"Morris called me a pipsqueak and that was the reason I can't play volleyball. I want to prove short, weak pipsqueaks can succeed. I even asked Mai Ling to coach me."
Jane set down her pencils and sketch pad. She regarded Daria as her friend spread her arms out on her bed with her head hanging over the foot.
"Potty-mouth Mai? How many times did she swear when she said no? Learn any new words? Or did she just say 'Go to Hell.'?"
Daria rolled onto her tummy. "Our first practice is tomorrow. And, you know, it was weird, when I asked her she didn't swear once. She seemed kind of nervous about it."
"No way." Jane mused. "You know she does have interesting cursing habits, come to think of it. Like she'll say 'damn' and 'Hell' but I've never heard her say 'God' or 'Jesus' or even just 'jeez'. And I've never heard her say 'bitch' or anything like that about a girl. But scatology and obscenity? She's a pro. I even learned some choice Spanish from her. I'll have to thank her sometime."
"Well, Jimminy Crickets and thank you, oh connoisseur of cussing. I'll keep my ear open for new phrases tomorrow but you know my speech is as pure as the driven snow, I might not recognize any swear words. So, am I selling out if I want to get better at volleyball?"
"Good grief, Daria! Who cares about that kind of thing? It's called keeping fit and that's just one reason why I run. So what if volleyball's Morris's fave team sport? Well, besides cheerleading. Just picture a portrait of Quinn on the ball when you smack it."
A brisk, breezy knock sounded on Daria's door and a moment later Quinn breezed in holding brightly colored dresses in either hand.
"Hi teammate!" She addressed Jane. "Morris said we could wear something besides our regular DRAB gym uniforms and look what I found in this cozy, neat sportswear boutique Cashman's just opened. I know skorts are kind of out but these badminton uniforms are so cute. I think they both go great with my hair. Which one should we go with, teammy?" Her fiery hair bounced and waved as she held out what to Daria looked like identically colored bright red, orange and yellow tennis uniforms.
Jane sat up straighter and either pretended or sincerely took a close, long considered look as Quinn waited with baited breath.
"That one," she pointed at Quinn's left. "Yeah, definitely."
"I knew it!" Quinn squealed. "That's my fave too because it sets off my hair the best of course. I knew you had great color sense, Jane. Thanks. Here, this is yours." She thrust it into Jane's hands. "I've got mine in my room and don't worry about it. It's on Mom's platinum. We'll own Sandi and Tori on the court tomorrow. Oh, hi Daria. Well, gotta go. Battledore!" And she was off.
"Battledore?" Daria questioned Jane.
Jane smiled a bit sheepishly but amused too. "Yeah, battledore. It's a forerunner of badminton, she somehow discovered. Quinn made it her good luck battle cry."
Jane mused, "At least she doesn't yell 'shuttlecock'."
"Ugh, I wish I'd drawn badminton in Morris's undoubtedly rigged sports lottery meant to humiliate me. Who would think my sister and my best friend-that's you by the way-would be tearing up the badminton courts?"
"Yeah, kind of surprised me too. Quinn's got a real instinct for strategic and tactical doubles play. We're number one."
"If you start chanting I will so not treat for pizza tonight, Lane. My turn or not."
"Heaven forfend, Morgendorffer. I hear the anchovies calling out now."
"Ugh," Daria said again as they left her room.