I had so much fun writing in Sandi Griffin's voice that I wanted to do a second chapter. Many thanks to WingZero for beta-reading and making suggestions which made this tale a stronger, more satisfying piece.
WingZero pointed out that there's a month's duration between the chapters. Filling in the month is not in my immediate plans but who knows, inspiration might strike.

Chapter 2: Clothes Make the Crush

The Gifts of the Cynics

"Miss, miss."

The clerk didn't approach as quickly as a Cashman's employee might come running to wait on the Fashion Club president but she got up from her position behind the counter and gave me my needed attention. As she approached I noted for future reference and possibly recommendation to the Fashion Club that her name tag read 'Monique'.

Stationery Jerry, reputedly Lawdale's finest paper products merchant even though it was situated on dingy Dega Street, must have been slumming to hire a Goth type clerk. Still, I had to admit that the red streaks highlighted her natural raven tresses. Her eyes were almost obsidian black and were tastefully set off by her cranberry lipstick.

"Miss, is that black paper journal made of, like, acid-free paper? I want the precious memories which will be entered therein to, like, last the years."

"Yeah," she pronounced. "That's acid-free. It's, like, good paper. I bought one for my boyfriend to write his lyrics in. Silver ink on black paper, Trent said that really inspires him. We have other gel pen inks that really stand out great on black. And you can use 'em to write on your black jeans too. Hey, if you want, I can show you other black paper journals, some with cover designs."

I doubted Daria would want a journal with cover designs but I found myself intrigued.

"Please lead the way."

Monique found that amusing, she chuckled as she turned and made a follow-me gesture.

"Here's an interesting journal." She flipped open a display model. "Every other page is made more for sketching, a bit more textured for a three-d look, I guess. The other pages are for writing. There's, like, lined and unlined selections too for all these."

"And here's a journal with your basic skull-and-crossbones, bombs, rocket ships and tanks on the cover for the basic tween boys, right next to your basic tween girl version with pegacorns, ponies and rainbows. Tell you the truth, I like the skulls better myself. It's all good stuff, like, acid-free, opens flat and all. We don't sell crap journals like you find in any five-and-dime."

"I'll take two with the tanks and bombs," I found myself saying. "And that sketching one too in addition to a couple of this plain journal I found first."

"Great. Oh, we only have one of the boy's life kind out here. Just a sec."

She went through a door marked "Employees Only" and called out, "Dad, do we have more of those journals with black paper. You know, the cool kind of cover like you gave me for Christmas when I was twelve."

She came back with another journal bursting with explosive cover illustrations.

"Great! We had another back in stock. Now, are you set for pens? Any of those gel jobbies will show up great on this black paper, except the black ink, I guess." She made a dramatic gesture at an opposite wall with bins of pens. "Here, I'll take the journals to the till while you pick some out."

I had found a journal with racing cars on the cover and I had selected a "tween girl" model. Monique looked pleased as she carefully stacked seven black volumes in her arms and marched to the register. She was whistling a tune I recognized from the hefty metallic music my brat brothers were beginning to bother me with, titled "Enter Ratboy" if I recalled correctly.

"Green ink, yes, white ink, silver, oh, oh wonderful, they do have bright yellow ink. Her favorite colors on black pages. She'll love it. I hope. Oh, coral ink, I need three of those. Seven journals? How many more pens? This is almost as much fun as buying for myself. Hmm, maybe I should get a plain cover journal just for me?"

Somehow my fingers continued gathering up pens of red and green and other colors and never found their way to the journals before I carried my selections to Monique. Her dark eyes glittered as she got up to help me with the clutched pens overflowing in my hands. I felt like I did when I was ten; Stacy and I had found a patch of wild strawberries and carried brimming armfuls back to our mothers.

"Almost the last time you were happy with anything I did for you, Mother." I throttled that thought before it took over my mind.

"Oh, you should have asked for a basket or my help. Hey, you made some great selections. For grad gifts, heh? You got good taste. Even senior boys will be tickled by the skulls and stuff."

I favored her with a small smile. "Well, two journals and some pens for graduation gifts, the rest because I am overcome with the spirit of giving."

"I hope you're overcome again with said spirit in our shop; remember, we have our Christmas in July sale coming up." She made my scant change for the hundred-dollar bill I handed over.

SG SG SG SG SG

"And so, Fashion Club members," I began. "I have an important announcement as the first and possibly last item of business on this special meeting which I thank you for being able to attend."

I bit my lip. Stacy readied her pen over her secretary pad. Quinn assumed her waiting-for-me-to-make-a-faux-pas vigilance. Tiffany tore her attention from her makeup mirror.

"I must place myself on fashion sabbatical for an indeterminate duration." I sighed and waited for their reaction.

"Oh Sandi," Quinn began. "Just because you accidently dressed in primary colors in the daytime? That's no reason to leave us leaderless. You said there was that power failure which hit only your house and you had to dress in the dark."

"I kissed your sister." I told Quinn. Then I gained courage and continued with more confidence. "I kissed your sister. I kissed Daria. And I kissed her before our fifth date."

I hastened to fill the expected shocked silence.

"So by the unwritten but firm bylaws of the Fashion Club I must place myself on fashion sabbatical. I cannot maintain the helm having disgraced the examples we need to maintain for the popularity-challenged students. Quinn, I have the fullest confidence in you to uphold our high standards as you ascend to the Presidency. When you need advice in the difficult times ahead, as you surely will, I will be there to guide you."

"Fassshion sabbatical," Tiffany drawled, surprising me a bit that she was the first to speak.

She withdrew her cell phone and pressed a single key. "Hi, Bret, I have time to go to the quarry tonight if you still want to. You do? Yeahhh. Okay, pick me up at 8:30. What? Yes, I can wear that red mini cheongsam if you like it sooo much."

"I need to place myself on sabbatical too." Tiffany announced. "Or I will after tonight; I think."

To my open-mouthed astonishment, Stacy and Quinn produced cell phones of their own and did their own quick key pressing.

"Hi, Mr. Dewitt-Clinton. Yes, this is Stacy Rowe. Is Ted…," I heard Stacy say before Quinn's voice overrode hers. "Hi Jeffy, do you want to take me dancing late Friday night? Yes, Jeffy, slow, close dancing. No, Jeffy, flowers and chocolates are enough, this time. Oh, can you tell Joey he can take me dancing Saturday and tell, uh, Jasper that he can take me Sunday? Great! Thanks."

Tiffany had made another call in the meantime. All three closed their phones and we sat looking at each other for a moment before the four of us collapsed in tears.

"The end of the Fashion Club," Tiffany wailed.

"Like the end of an era. I'll miss you all so much." Stacy sobbed and sniffed.

"You three are the best friends any girl could ever have," Quinn asserted.

"So, shall we meet at Cashman's second Summer Jubilee Sale on Saturday to discuss how to most profitably use our newfound free time?" I proposed, wiping my tears.

We all made promises to meet on Saturday. Their eyes opened wide as I brought out my packages.

Quinn asked, "Sandi? What's this?"

"I could not leave the Fashion Club without a small token of my esteem for each of you." I handed Quinn her gift, wrapped in her favorite color, coral. Stacy got hers in sky-blue and Tiffany in soft red.

They seemed not to know what presents were and just held them in their laps for a few puzzled moments. Then something like the glint Sam and Chris used to get on Christmas mornings entered their eyes. Being Fashion Club former members they carefully unwrapped the boxes without hurry or tearing.

"Oh, unicorns!" Tiffany admired her journal.

"Oh Sandi, it's beautiful. Thanks Sandi! How did you know I liked racing cars?" Stacy asked happily.

"Gee, Stacy," I answered. "I hope I am sensitive to my friends' preferences by now. We've only known each other since, like, forever."

"And as Mother reminds me, it's good to know people's likes and dislikes for use as bribes or threats."

Quinn smiled slowly and nodded as she met my eyes while holding her plain black cover journal. They rooted among the pens for a moment, soft whispers of delight on their lips.

"Let's sign each other's books!" Quinn proposed as she uncapped a coral ink pen. A few minutes later the first page of everyone's journal was covered with multi-colored hearts, rainbows and sincere best wishes.

I waved goodbye to the former Fashion Club, no, my friends, a quarter-hour later. I closed the door and turned, coming face to face with Mother. Sam and Chris were behind her, grinning as though they knew something.

"Eep," I jumped. "Mother, please, I want to go up to my room and talk to, uh, play with Fluffy a bit."

"What did I hear? No more Fashion Club? And you kissed Quinn's sister? That, that little garden gnome?"

"Thanks for listening at the door, Mother. And for rating your only daughter's preferences as less important than a defunct school activity."

Mother got a look of calculation. "The cheerleaders are going to eat your popularity lunch. Yes, we have to talk about that, Alexandra Tamara Griffin. Still, kissing Quinn's sister? Hmm, she graduates this year, right? She won't be around next year. And I hear lesbians are very popular on college campuses now. Might help you get into a good school? Yes, you could start one of those gay/straight alliance groups at Lawndale. We did a story on something like that at the community college a couple weeks ago. I'll dig up the tape and we can review. Okay, yes, I can work with this."

Then from her an afterthought, "I wonder if Helen knows about this."

In the last year, much to her chagrin, I had managed to grow to be an inch taller than Mother. I drew myself up to my full height and surprised both of us by looking her directly in the eye.

"Mother, you will let Daria tell her mother about us in her own due time."

Mother's eyes widened at the first time I had remotely disagreed with her since my disastrous attempt to organize a middle-school dance. She pursed her lips thinly but I dare say she was almost pleased, perhaps. I was developing a headache and promised to indeed talk about it all later.

Sam asked, "You're dating Quinn's sister? Does that mean Quinn will come over more?"

I glanced at the hall closet, considered walking on by, but took the bag out anyway.

"Here twit. Here twerp." I thrust jet airplane and tank covered journals at Sam and Chris.

"And you brats can fight over the pens for all the concern it is of mine." I dropped the bag on the floor.

My headache was suddenly gone as I climbed the stairs with three pairs of eyes boring into my back. Fluffy greeted me at the landing.

SG SG SG SG SG

Daria and I were safely locked in her room the next Friday evening. Her father had obliviously told me that Quinn was upstairs as he had let me in the door. Quinn only gave me a wave and knowing smirk as I walked past her room.

"il venerdi" Daria had greeted me. I responded in kind and kiss. I glanced down to enjoy the sight of my older, shorter girlfriend standing on tip-toe in those high boots.

Our secret greeting was to tell each other the day of the week in Italian. Well, not exactly a secret since we did it in public too but only Daria, Quinn, I and probably Jane knew its origin. Daria and I would have to discuss Mother's discovery later but for now I had a more pressing, pleasant agenda.

"One month anniversary," I announced as I gave her a box wrapped in black crepe and a green bow. "Or graduation present if you can stand to wait a week before opening."

"I have always held that delayed gratification was an overrated—vastly—virtue." Daria's lips curved into a small, sincere smile as she sat down on her bed. She pulled me down beside her before she ripped off and threw aside the wrapping and yanked open the box.

Her eyes widened along with her smile as she flipped through the black pages and held up her pens tied together in bright yellow ribbon. I think the clear plastic pouch of sketchpad and pens at the bottom of the box made her even happier, marked as it was, "For Jane".

She stood up and, for Daria, bounded for her closet enthusiastically.

"I have a present for you, Tammy." She teased with the nickname she'd come up with for me. "I was going to wait until I left for Raft in September but, but let's not think about that now."

She gave me a box wrapped in the color of my favorite vegetable, a soft aubergine.

Daria stood there, bouncing in her boots and almost grinning in anticipation. I opened the wrapping and box with care. I could feel my eyes getting bigger as I held up a black skull, life-sized, I assumed. It was rough textured. I noted a bag of multicolored square and round chalk sticks in the box.

Daria told me it was a chalk board and excitedly pointed out and named the bones and jagged things she called 'sutures'.

"Dishwasher safe. And," she concluded happily. "You can open it up to write secret messages on the inside."

She popped it open on my lap. "I heart Sandi." was written in soft pink chalk on the inside. I looked up to see Daria gently biting her lower lip.

"I, I love it!" I said. And I did.

THE END