"You have to be good at something. You're good at your reading and writing and stuff and you're good at your little paintings. I figure being attractive and popular, that's what I'm good at. Maybe it's not really important, but it's what I can do."

Chapter 2: Shower Rangers

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I don't know, I guess I like what I see in the mirror. I mean, with nothing on it's kind of hard to say because I can't compare a top to a bottom, a skirt to shoes or eyeliner to lipstick or whatever. When I have clothes on I'm cute. Without them I just feel…I don't know what word to use. ("Naked?" Daria would say. Shut up, Daria.) Vulnerable.

Clothes are my world. They make me feel safe. I never let guys try to touch me under them and I hate when they undress me with their eyes. What I put on is for them. What's underneath is different. I'm not sure how I feel about it or if anyone would like it. I can pick out a killer outfit in record time—sometimes under ten minutes! But until then it's just me, staring into the mirror and wondering "who is she, what does she want, why is she here anyway?" And it's not like the mirror ever answers.

There would be another time to think about non-cute stuff like that. I looked away from it and threw a big towel around myself, then a matching smaller one around my hair. Give Daria a break and save the hair dryer and makeup for my room. I put away the exfoliating soap, strawberry-scented body wash, coconut baby lotion, shea butter foot cream and a few other necessities of life. Then I left the good shampoo on the shower rack (where it's supposed to be), turned around and saw the door sitting half open.

What the hell?

Talk about not cute, that's just scary! It wasn't that way when I got in. Had somebody seen me? Just the idea that they could have made me so mad. And since there was only one person in this house weird enough to ever pull something like that…

I threw it open the rest of the way and marched out. Steeling myself for a possible sighting of the ugliest bedroom in Lawndale, I took a deep breath and pounded on my sister's door. "Hey, Daria!"

"Mmmmphlll," I heard her say. "At the sound of the tone, it will be time to leave me the hell alone."

I rolled my eyes and knocked again. Finally something rustled, groaned and staggered up to the door. A lock clicked (weird, she never locks her door) and…wow, her morning face is even more unpleasant than her usual one.

"Oh, Miss Quinn. Have you come to take me to the mall?"

As usual, I didn't get what she was talking about. "Like I'd ever go shopping with you! Listen, Daria, you know how bathroom doors are supposed to stay shut till the cute girl inside opens them?"

Something strange happened. She changed expression. Just for a split second (ew, reminds me of split ends) she looked kind of…scared. But then it was gone. "You mean, have I ever heard it put exactly that way? No. No, I haven't."

"Dariaaaa! You know what I mean! I know you opened the door while I was in there. I don't know if you were trying to freak me out or what, but quit it. Just because you're jealous of my impeccable timing…"

"You mean how you steal the bathroom every morning," she wasn't wearing her glasses. I never got to see her face without them. It was kind of…almost decent looking.

"That's because I need it!" It was dumb and for some weird reason I'd been thinking about this a lot, but I could make her over. It might take more time and quality makeup than she could ever repay, but with my genes there was always hope. Not that she'd ever agree to it because some people just don't know what's good for them. But if she ever did, it might really be...

"Quinn! Hello?" I jumped a little. "Welcome back to our regularly scheduled program. The one where you go away and…and put some damn clothes on!"

The door slammed in my face. When did she get madder than I was?

I stormed back to my room. Who cared what was wrong with her? There was always something wrong with Daria. But I wasn't going to let her off that easy.