Turnabout Confusion II: All the KIng's Horses
by Dennis
Thursday
Stacy tried to avoid the voice calling up the stairs—her mother's voice. How nice it would be, she thought, to pull the covers back over her head and forget that she had to go to school, and back to the vicious back and forth powerplay she found herself trapped in. Nice, but not realistic.
Sure enough, her mother's voice came again. "Stacy, if you don't get down here, I'm coming up and dumping you out of bed!"
Stacy sighed and tossed aside the comforter. "I'm up, Mom! I'll be down in a minute!" Lowering her long legs to the floor, she stood and staggered to the bathroom. Stress, exhaustion, and pillow hair. I'll bet I look terrible. Sure enough, the mirror confirmed her judgment. Her face was blotchy and puffy, and the circles under her eyes told of a restless night. She stared at her reflection for a long moment and sighed. How did I get mixed up in this?
Her mother's voice again broke the reverie. "I'd better hear running water, young lady!"
Stacy shrugged, got into the shower and began her morning routine. Soup, moisturizer, shampoo, conditioner, and make up all combined to make her look human. She gave her hair a quick blow dry and pulled it into the usual pigtails for easy of management. Then she headed downstairs, where a bowl of oatmeal awaited her.
She slid into her usual seat and her mother gave her a smile. "Good to see you, sleepyhead," her mom said. Stacy smiled back and began to eat, her mind still on her day. She knew what she had to do—for everyone who wants me to do something—but she still wasn't sure she could pull it off. It's not like I'm Matty Harry or anything. On the other hand, she'd learned alot in the last two months, like what it meant to be on the outside of the clique system and who her real friends were. Her jaw firmed. I can do this. And it will come right in the end.
She must have presented a strange picture with her teeth clenched around her spoon, because her mother gave her a very odd look. "Everything okay, honey?"
"Fine," Stacy said, relaxing her jaw and calming herself.
"Penny for your thoughts."
Stacy swallowed another spoonful of oatmeal before answering. "Nothing much. Just thinking about what I have to do at school today."
***
Quinn's morning was both more and less intense than Stacy's. She knew she had a crapload to do, but she also didn't have to hide anything. Daria and Helen were in the know and Jake was somewhere in orbit around planet Mad Dog, where they didn't let you have Rice Krispies even when you said you were scared of Grape Nuts.
She and Daria had talked until late, discussing how they were going to take into account Li's rumors and their plans for the day, but she couldn't resist asking again as her sister headed for the door, "Are you ready?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Daria replied as she pulled on her jacket. "You're the one who's got all the work."
"Just... you know," Quinn half-smiled as Daria headed out. Quinn herself would follow in fifteen minutes. They'd decided to let the rumors percolate before Quinn showed up. It meant some people would have time to plan, but others would work themselves into such a state that their masks would slip, something Quinn would find useful.
Plus, she had the wild card: Stacy. Of course, she's a little too wild, but I think she can handle it.
She felt eyes on her, and turned to find her mother giving her a speculative look. Her father's muted rants came from the kitchen.
"What do you think, Mom? Am I doing the right thing?"
"Well," Helen said, "my part's easy. SImple and elegant, which I like. And I'm sure you have a handle on your classmates." Her eyes met Quinn's. "But I don't think that's what you're asking."
"No," Quinn said softly. "I asked Daria, too."
"And what did she say?" Helen asked.
"She said only I can decide."
"Your sister is very wise sometimes," Helen said and sat. "I wish I could tell you you're doing the right thing and that all your choices are justified, but you know I can't. Sometimes, when you take on power, you lose. And sometimes," she continued, looking away, "even when you win, you become the thing you fought."
"The voice of experience?" Quinn asked, suddenly bold.
"Let's just say I know whereof I speak." Silence fell for a few moments until Quinn stood. "Time to go. Wish me luck."
"Good luck Quinn," Helen said and sighed.
"I love you, Mom," Quinn replied and was out the door.
***
Charles wasn't sure why he'd gotten in so early, except a suspicion that there were things to be learned. He wasn't disappointed. Daria's arrival shortly after his had been curious, but not especially noteworthy. Quinn's, however, promised to be interesting.
For one thing, the halls were already buzzing with rumors about Quinn: that she was taking over the Fashion Club or the whole school; that she'd been rehabilitated and was joining the cheerleaders; that Ms. Li was expelling her; that Ms. Li was helping her; and on and on.
Faces flashed in his vision, faces he could read like books. Jodie and Andrea were angry, Joey was thoughful, Brittany was sad, Kevin confused. Dawn looked ready to kill someone. And of course Jeffy and Jamie were still idiots.
Bret Strand was uncomfortable. Charles could tell because the other boy was standing opposite him, and Bret never bothered with anyone he wasn't planning on bedding. "So, what do you think of all this, Upchuck?"
"The same thing, I always think," he said with his usual leer. "So many lovely ladies to choose from, so little time. But then," he gave a slightly mocking bow, "you don't need me to point that out."
"True," Bret said with a chuckle, then got serious. "I mean about Quinn. Do you think she's dangerous again?"
Why are you asking me? Charles thought but didn't say. Instead, he continued the Upchuck pose. "All women are dangerous, unless you approach them the right way."
Bret shook his head and shrugged, as if clearing his mind. "You'd know, Upchuck," he said with a rough laugh and a non-too-friendly clap on Charles' shoulder. before drifting off, but not too far.
The hallway took on an attitude of waiting, since the object of the rumors had to be arriving soon, or risk detention. Sure enough, Quinn walked in, dressed in an attractive, if not especially daring outfit, dark slacks hugging her long legs below a cream top that came nearly to her neck, but drew attention to her figure. As if she needs to draw attention today. Someone already drew a bullseye on her.
If she was aware of it, Quinn was doing her best to ignore it, looking straight ahead, not avoiding meeting people's eyes, but not seeking contact either. "Just another day in the life," a dry female voice said behind him.
He wasn't surprised to find Daria behind him. "Do my ears deceive me or has the divine Miss Morgendorffer the elder deigned to address me? Can my dreams be coming true?" He rather hoped she would recoil and allow him to watch the drama unfold in peace.
Instead, she surprised him. "Can it, Charles. I have no time for the act today."
He blinked, but made no other movement. "Finally saw through it, huh?"
"I've had more reason to pay attention lately," she conceded. "And now, I think we should watch," she added, as Kelly and Tiffany descended on Quinn, followed by one of a jock girls, a softball player whose name Charles didn't remember. "It's not who comes," he muttered to himself. "It's who doesn't."
"Very good, Charles," Daria said. "Quinn said the same thing before we left the house."
His expression didn't change, but his mind whirled. "Why should that matter to me?"
"It shouldn't," Daria said, "but you're watching anyway. And you're bright enough to realize how little room Dawn leaves outside the pecking order."
"Am I being recruited?" he asked, after a moment's silence.
"Well, you're good enough, you're smart enough, and dammit, we can use you," Daria said with a rare smile. He liked her smile, but there wasn't much else about her he liked.
On the other hand, he liked Dawn and her cronies even less. "What's in it for me? Why will having Quinn be in charge be any different?"
"Who says Quinn will be in charge?" Daria chuckled.
"Surely not....." The words died on his lips. She can't be.... What would she do with it?
"Who says it has to be anyone? Think about it, Aragorn. But not where any pom-pom Nazgul can hear you." She slipped off as the bell for homeroom rang, and the crowd around Quinn dispersed.
Well, he thought as he walked. The Tolkien reference is apt. They'll have the element of surprise.
***
Anthony sat alone in his classroom, waiting for his second period class to arrive. He'd spent first period—a free period—dwelling on what he had to do during second period. Oh, it was simple enough, and there was logic to having him do it. It's always me that does it, though. He'd led the last union negotiations, which had been a disaster. Because they didn't back me up. He'd reached out to Morris; he'd gathered everything they needed. But it made sense. He was in the best position, and the rest of them were bloody useless. O'Neal was weak, Barch was crazy, DeFoe was flightly, and most of the others didn't care, except Bennett. And Diane is attached to Li at the hip.
The bell rang, and he laid an hand on the pile of test papers in front of him. Nice and easy. I just hope I guessed right. He was sure he had, though. He'd heard the rumors and seen how Daria looked at Dawn. And if he was going to bet on one of the overfed trust fund brats he taught, it would be Daria, whose predatory intellect was restrained only by apathy. And I think she's got a reason to care now.
As the students began to file in, he stood as he did every day, letting his eye bulge. It's a strange condition, but a useful put-on. Then his eyes fell on Kevin, face vacant above the ubiquitous shoulder pads, and his eye bulged involuntarily. Well, sometimes it's a put on. The bell rang, and his heart started to pound.
"Well," he growled, taking up the papers, 'I've graded your tests. And to no one's surprise, your performances were dismal. I'm tempted to throw them out, but it's my job to show you how poorly you've done." He moved up and down the columns of students, wordlessly passing out the tests, sparing a glare and an eye pop for those whose performances were truly laughable, such as Kevin. 11 wasn't much of a score, but at least he'd reached double digits.
When he came to Daria, he didn't spare her a look. And if her paper was a little heavier than the others, he felt sure no one would notice. The die is cast, he thought, as he handed out the last half-dozen tests. Now, we see.
As soon as he reached the front of the room, Daria's hand shot up. "Yes, Miss Morgendorffer?" he asked, while inwardly, he danced.
"I'd like to discuss my grade," she said, her voice holding the faintest anger.
"I don't see why. Everything looks in order to me," he said, as calmly as he could manage.
She didn't respond, only giving him a murderous glare, while some of her classmates looked at her oddly. Normally, he would have expected Jane Lane to lean across and make a comment, but Jane had moved her seat over a month ago. The sympathetic look she gave Daria suggested that the fight that had precipitated the move was over, or had been a put on to begin with. Which means Daria has allies. Which is a good thing.
Once the class had settled down after reviewing their grades, he began lecturing on the colonialist era at the end of the nineteenth century. In truth, though, he was having a hard time following his own words, since he'd just placed his teaching career in the hands of a seventeen-year-old girl. But Daria had clearly read and followed the post-it affixed to the front of her test—even to the point of not speaking after he set her down. Which means the information I gathered is in the hands of someone—or someone's mother—who can use it.
He'd had a backup plan. Had she not spoken, he would have asked to see her after class and told her what was expected. But this was much better, since it meant he could use his tools when he wanted to, instead of when he needed to.
***
Helen couldn't suppress a small shudder as she approached the corner office door. Her task for Quinn and Daria was simple, true, but it did involve more than a little research. Not only did she need to find details on the school district, but also on who was dealing with the district, especially if it was someone at Vitale, Horowitz, Riordan, Schrecter, Schrecter, and Schrecter. Her firm was the largest in the county, and had its hands in some pretty odd places.
The door swung open before she could knock and a deep male voice said, "Come in, Helen. I've been expecting you." Forcing down a frission of anxiety, she entered. The office was ornate, but not garish, with a soft carpet, a large mahogany desk with scrollwork on the legs, and matching leather chairs. Behind the desk sat a handsome man in his early sixties. A mane of gray hair topped a a long face, an aquiline nose, and a generous mouth that was smiling.
"Hello, Helen," Richard Riordan, the Riordan of Vitale, Horowitz, Riordan, Schrecter, Schrecter, and Schrecter, gestured towards a seat. "Did you have a question for me?" Before she could move, she needed to talk to a partner. Eric was useless for this. All three Schrecters worked on mundane stuff: tax law, real estate, corporate claims. Other partners worked on... other things, and sometimes it was best not to ask. As far as Helen knew, Riordan's hands were clean, but he knew what was what with everyone, and he was willing to talk... up to a point.
"Y-yes," Helen said, unable to control a stammer as she sat. She had to be very careful. Riordan wasn't vindictive, but the wrong question might cost a chance at partner, or her job. "I, um, was wondering if the anyone at the firm was involved in a certain, ah, municipal service."
He raised a grizzled eyebrow and steepled his fingers. "Find out something and wonder if it could be traced back to us?"
"No, sir," Helen said, then backtracked. "Well, sort of. It's just that there are some funny goings on in the High School lately." She trailed off at his sudden laugh.
"There've been funny goings on at that school for years. I'm surprised you didn't send your kids to private school." Comprehension crossed his features. "Li should have been fired years ago, and you're wondering if someone is propping her up. Someone whose initial is V, maybe?"
She nodded, slowly "I should have realized years ago, both that Li was unfit for her job—I've met the woman and unfit doesn't begin to describe her—and that a certain someone or someones might be keeping her there."
Her last words fell into silence, sudden and oppressive. She wondered if she's stepped on an office landmine, and what she would do if she had. Finally, Riordan broke the silence, smiling "Well, I can assure you that Himself is not involved with the school in any way, nor is anyone else here."
Relief coursed through Helen. She could move without hurting her career or her family. "Thank you, sir. I don't suppose you have any other information?"
"Like, why Li keeps her job?" He shook his head. "I can only speculate, but I know tenure rules around here are pretty strong. And there's the question of who has the authority to remove her. That's a good place to start." He leaned over toward his intercom. "Now if you'll excuse me, my 10:30 should be here, soon."
Recognizing the dismissal, Helen backed quickly out. Riordan's information was like a weight off her shoulders. And his advice had matched her thoughts. If Himself's not propping her up, there's one dangling thread, and all I have to do is cut it. She sped back to her office. She had a lot to learn about Superintendent Cartwright, and a very short time in which to do it.
***
Quinn sighed as she walked down the hall. Daria wasn't kidding when she said I had the hard part. All she has to do is watch. Quinn wasn't watching so much as absorbing abuse.
Jodie had been particularly harsh to her, calling her all sorts of names, the nicest of which was conniving bitch. The performance was very convincing, not least because Quinn had no idea if she was performing. Both she and Daria had made a number of calls last night, but they'd decided not to share who they called to make their reactions more realistic.
Andrea, on the other hand, was not acting. The goth girl confronted Quinn in between second and third period, with blood in her eye and murder in her heart. "I should have known," she snarled with no preamble.
"Known what?" Quinn asked, affecting confusion, though her eyes met Jenn's as the blond girl stood in Andrea's shadow.
"That you were still the same popularity whore you always were." Andrea cracked her knuckles. "All that bullshit was just an act."
"So what if it was?" Quinn snapped.
"I don't give a shit that you fooled me. Shame on me for believing you. But," Andrea cracked her knuckles ominously, "I should beat the shit out of you for what you did to Jenn."
Quinn tossed her hair in a dismissive gesture. Jenn had told her she could go as far as she needed. She rather wished the blond girl hadn't, but she knew this had to be convincing. "What did I do to Jenn? Finally convince her that the Easter Bunny isn't real and that the good guys don't always win? I did her a favor."
For a second, Quinn thought she had pushed too far, and that Andrea was going to hit her, no matter what Jenn said. But the other girl whirled and slammed her fist into a locker instead. "Next time that'll be your face," she growled.
Jenn put a hand on Andrea's shoulder, but the darker girl shook it off roughly. "Are you still sure there isn't a Hell?" she said, before turning and going. It was all Quinn could do not to burst into tears on the spot. Andrea didn't deserve that. I'm just glad I had a chance to tell Jenn.
She'd also told Joey, which was likely why he was avoiding her today. Jamie and Jeffy on the other hand, had both dropped by her locker to tell her how awesome she was again, which she supposed was the closest she would get to an apology from either of those clots.
Kelly had also dropped by, leaving oblique hints that she'd be willing to help Quinn if the price was right. Tori Jericho had started with the same thing, but Quinn had seen Brooke over Tori's shoulder and been uncharacteristically short.
"Sure you want to get mixed up in the game again, Tori? You got pretty badly burned last time." Quinn had put all the scorn she could into her voice.
"You have a better option?" Tori quirked an eyebrow.
"Why me?" Quinn asked, intrigued. Something in Tori's voice resonated with her, but she had to know. "I lost last time, worse than anyone."
Tori met her eyes coolly. "You lost because you didn't know all the players. I think you'll do better this time."
Quinn raised an eyebrow. "And what would you get out of it?"
Tori shrugged. "Be nice to be on the winning side," she said. "I haven't been in awhile. Doesn't even matter what I win."
Quinn nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. I wonder if that meant what I think it meant. Her eyes scanned the hallways, lingering on Jane Lane walking with Skylar Feldman. She gave a little self-satisfied nod as the bell rang, summoning her to another class.
***
Walking down the hall with Skylar, Jane noticed Quinn's smug look and smothered a sigh. They both owe me bigtime for this.
She turned half her attention back to Skylar, since he merited that much, at best. The good thing about walking with Skylar was that she didn't even have to fake interest. He filled up holes in the conversation by talking about himself. He makes those stuck-up rich boys at Fielding look humble.
He wound down some story about his dad's boat, and Jane gave him a half-assed smile. "I'll bet the sunset is beautiful out on the open sea."
"You know it," he said. "Maybe I'll have you out there sometime." Over my dead body, she thought. He wasn't as obvious as Bret Strand with the double entendres, but there'd been a definite leer in his voice that made his meaning clear.
"I'm kinda surprised you noticed me," she said, as they reached her locker. He deposited himself against the wall on the side opposite where the locker door swung out. As an artist, Jane could appreciate the effectiveness of his pose, leaning causally, one hand draped loose at his side, radiating relaxation and the feeling that he was in control of any situation. As a feeling person, she wanted to vomit. "Not that I mind, but I never thought plain old Jane Lane would interest you."
"The old order changeth," Skylar said, with a sly smile. "You're hardly plain old Jane Lane, now. Your sidekick is gone and runner boy is gone. Nothing to stop us having some quality time together."
"Uh, yeah," she said, as she fished out a book and closed her locker. "So we're not looking long-term here."
"Who knows?" He shrugged, rolling his loose arm. "I haven't found the one I want to stop on yet, but it doesn't mean I won't. And even if I don't," he brought up his arm and tousled her hair, "it's a big status boost for you. Now that you ditched the deadweight, Jane Lane might become a pretty big name in this school. Catch you later."
Jane steamed silently as she watched Skylar saunter off. You know, I don't even care why Quinn wants me to turn him down in public. I'll do it for free.
***
Zoe was surprised to see Lisa standing next to her locker. Although the cheerleaders showed a united front at Dawn's orders, Zoe was secretly persona non grata and had been pretty much since Dawn took over. But there was Lisa, wearing a smile that wouldn't have been out of place on a crocodile following a sinking ship.
"Hey," she said, when Lisa said nothing. "What's up?"
"Wanted a word before lunch," Lisa said. "Hear anything interesting over the grapevine?"
Zoe paused, watching over Lisa's shoulder the flow of students moving through the halls. Don't see any cheerleaders, but who knows who's listening in. "Maybe," she said, drawing the syllable out. "Nothing that's too big a deal, right?"
Lisa raised an eyebrow. "You don't think Quinn's a big deal?"
Zoe's heart began to beat a little faster, but schooled her face to indifference. "Should I?" she asked. "Quinn's been old news for months."
"True," Lisa said. "But things change quickly around here, and I'd hate to see us lose out." She pointed at Zoe. "I'd hate to see you lose out."
"Me?" Zoe said, affecting surprise. "What does it have to do with me?"
Lisa lowered her voice. "Don't you think Dawn's been a bit... distracted lately? Not really keeping an eye on things the way she should?"
"She's still keeping an eye on me." Not all of Zoe's bitterness was faked.
"Yeah. Instead of keeping an eye on the popularity game. I'll bet another head cheerleader would do a better job managing things." Lisa gave her a speculative look. "Especially if they had everyone one board."
Zoe gave her an amused look, though she was careful to keep her voice low, as well. "Got a candidate in mind?"
Lisa gave her a flat look. "What do you think? Angie and Nikki between them can just about tie their shoes, and the other girls are all too junior."
"And do you expect to take over just on your sayso? I don't count for much right now."
Lisa grinned. "Angie and Nikki are already in the bag. I told them both they were allowed to date the QB. With you, me, and the two of them, the freshmen and sophomores will fall in line. You will back me up, right?" For a second, Lisa's face grew hard again, the face that Zoe had come to associate with Dawn's enforcer over the last few months.
Still, she stood her ground. "What's in it for me to sell you out to Dawn? She doesn't trust me, and she's never going to trust me." With a grimace, she added, "Just tell me I can quit the squad whenever I want. Dawn treats the squad like the Mob."
Lisa laughed, "You can count on me if I can count on you." She stuck out her hand, "My word on it."
I'll just bet, Zoe thought as she took Lisa's hand. After a quick shake, Lisa sped off, leaving Zoe watching in her wake. As she finally grabbed her books for the next class, she reflected that the good thing about allying with good planners was that it cut down on the number of suspicious conversations. Quinn only needed updates if they didn't match what she expected. And she called that conversation almost to the word.
Zoe headed off to class with a tiny smile on her face.
***
Stacy was at ground zero of the power play, and didn't like it. Of course, she'd agreed to it, but that didn't make it any easier. She was good at agreeing with things, less so at disagreeing and standing up for herself.
Quinn had told her she was counting on her, but then Quinn wasn't always the most believable person in the world. Sandi had promised to make her popular, and Sandi always kept her promises. It was just that what you thought she promised wasn't always the same as what she delivered. Dawn hadn't made any promises at all, just threats. She didn't like Dawn, never had, but threats were always a good way to get help, especially when the threats were realistic.
Dawn had made some more this morning. Apparently, Ms. Li had raked her over the coals again, so when she cornered Stacy, she was even harsher than usual. "I know that bitch Quinn is out there making allies. You're going to find out who they are," she'd snarled.
"Yes, Dawn," Stacy had said meekly.
"And, if you know what's good for you, you'll find out that Sandi is one of them. Kelly says there's nothing going on, but Kelly needs help finding her way up a staircase." She drove her fist into her other hand. "I knew I should have taken apart the fucking Fashion Club when I had the chance."
Stacy said nothing, merely nodding as she cringed inwardly.
"And you'll do it, Stacy, because if you don't, not getting a date between now and doomsday will be the least of your worries." With a final black look, Dawn stalked off, leaving Stacy to get control of herself before heading to Math class.
And right after Math, as if on a schedule, Sandi had come bearing gifts. "That Kelly," she grumbled. "Not only is she no damn use, but she's got the fashion sense of a penguin. Worse. At least penguins keep it simple and elegant. No, she puts on platform jellies with pink Capris and wonders why the freshmen and sophomores laugh at her."
Stacy laughed nervously, "That's pretty awful, Sandi. What does Tiffany say?"
"Oh, her," Sandi tossed her hair dismissively. "The same things she always says. 'Does this make me looooook faaaaat, Sandi?' 'I don't understaaaaaand, Sandi.' I've had more fulfilling conversations with Fluffy."
Stacy thought Sandi's impression of Tiffany was good, but cruel and unfair. They'd all been friends once, hadn't they? She said nothing, though, and let Sandi keep talking.
"I swear, Stace, what I wouldn't give for a useful sidekick." She quickly looked around and lowered her voice. "Know were I could find one?" The flow of students seemed unchanged, but somehow sinister.
"Well," she started to say, because it was expected of her, but Sandi interrupted.
"Because I have a pretty good idea. Tiffany's useless, Brooke and Tori are broken, and Kelly's worse than useless. Nor," she said, biting off each word, "am I of a mind to restore any previous Vice Presidents the Fashion Club may have had." She smiled again. "That leaves you. How would you like be to Vice President of the Fashion Club, Stacy?"
"I, uh," she sputtered, and Sandi rolled over here again.
"Good. Help us put down Dawn and keep Quinn on the outside, and the job is yours."
Overwhelmed, Stacy nodded, and Sandi shot off. Before she could move, she saw a flash of red out of the corner of her eye. Following it, she met Quinn's gaze. The other girl kept up the contact for a minute, but said nothing. Stacy hadn't expected her to. As far as Quinn was concerned, nothing had changed.
Stacy wondered if the same were true for herself.
***
Daria reflected, not for the first time, that she was lucky to have such a stoic face. Her situation was so ridiculous that she wanted to laugh, but if she started, she knew she'd soon break down into hysteria, because not only was it riduculous, her situation was frankly terrifying.
Thanks to Mr. DeMartino, she now had on her person documentary proof that her principal was a criminal, and likely a felon. She also knew said principal to be ruthless and brutal, and while she didn't fear for her physical safety, she had a feeling that Ms. Li could at least make sure that the future would not involve colloge, but instead long-term employment in the food service industry. And that fact that I half expected this doesn't make it easier.
What she needed, she thought as her fellow students flowed around her locker, was someone to pass the hot potato to. Normally, she wouldn't think of involving someone else, but she knew Li suspected her and Quinn, and not being caught with incriminating documents--faked receipts, secret bank statements, and the like--was pretty critical. The question is who? I need someone I can trust who isn't connected to me. And that list is vanishingly small.
She felt the eyes of her fellow students on her. Most were vacant, but she knew to her regret that some were sharp and suspicious. They can't know, can they? She thought the handoff had been sufficiently arcane that no one would suspect, but in Lawndale High, you never knew. How many eyes does Li have?
Gathering the papers, she closed her locker and threw herself into the hallway mass, on the trail of familiar cornrows. She caught up with Jodie at the other girl's locker. The hostile look on the darker girl's face told Daria that this wasn't going to be easy, but she plunged on.
"I need a favor," Daria said.
"Quinn running for Mayor now?" Jodie snapped.
"No, I..." Daria stumbled for a moment, then recovered. "This isn't about popularity games, Jodie. I need you to take some papers out of school."
Jodie's eyebrows rose in question. "Why me? You're not on my favorite person list right now, Daria."
Shame welled as Daria spoke. "I asked you to trust me, Jodie, and I didn't set a time limit. And now I"m trusting you. This is a lot bigger than Quinn versus the cheerleaders. This is about the rest of our education and our futures. These papers have to get off the property and I'll never be able to do it. You can; no one suspects you or hassles you."
"Because I'm the teen Negro queen?" Jodie's voice was harsh.
"Because without you, the school falls apart. Li knows who's important," Daria said, equally harsh.
"Give me the papers." Daria carefully slid a manilla envelope into Jodie's bag, blocking her actions from any watchers in the halls. "What's in them?" Jodie asked.
"I wouldn't look if I were you," Daria said seriously. "Plausible deniability is important." She gave Jodie one last searching look, and sped away.
***
Helen was calm as she sat in the sterile waiting room. Her research that morning had borne some fruit, and she had a simple solution to Superintendent Cartwright's dilemma. Simple to implement; more difficult to explain, she thought as she waited.
Finally, the intercom buzzed and, after a short conversation, the youngish blonde secretary waved Helen in. The door swung open as she approached, revealing a tall, lean man with a shock of gray hair and sunken eyes in a deeply lined face. "Good afternoon," he said, extending his hand. "What can I do for such an illustrious member of our community?"
"Hardly that," Helen said, and smiled as she took his hand. "i just wanted to discuss some things with you."
"Of course," he said, sunken eyes suddenly hooded. "Come in and have a seat."
A plush leather chair awaited her, one of three that faced the superintendent's ornate mahogany desk. A large bay window gave the room plenty of light, even with the wood paneling and finished floor. As she said, she regarded Cartwright carefully. To her eyes, he looked like a survivor—a veteran of internal politics who was a tough nut to crack. But Li did. Let's see if I can undo that.
"So what did you want to discuss?" he asked, steepling his fingers.
"It's about the High School," she replied. "I have two daughters there."
"Daria and Quinn," he cut in smoothly. "Both bright, but neither particularly motivated."
Idiot, she thought. I did my oppo. Why did I think he wouldn't? "I suppose that's true," she said carefully, "but I'm worried that the environment at Lawndale High School is partly to blame for their apathy."
"I'm sure," he said in a slightly mocking tone, and for a sudden moment, Helen wanted to hit him. "What elements of the school's environment don't suit your daughters?"
"Teaching materials are shoddy and out of date. Many of the school's programs are underfunded, and extracurricular activities are almost nonexistent."
"Your daughter Quinn was a big part of one, I understand," he said mildly. "Until she was removed."
She kept a hold on her temper. You're here to help him, too. "The Fashion Club hardly counts. It took almost no funding from the school and generally met offsite. In fact, aside from athletics, that's true of almost all extracurriculars at Lawndale."
"What would you like me to do, Mrs. Morgendorffer?" He spread his arms in a gesture of supplication. "The budget is tight, and my hands are tied."
"That's funny," she said. "Oakwood is part of the county, too. They pay the same school and property taxes, but their facilities are significantly better, and teacher salaries are higher. I can only think that there's some administrative inefficiency at Lawndale High that doesn't exist anywhere else."
For the first time, his features showed irritation. "Principal Li is a highly skilled educator, and her record is impeccable."
"On the contrary," Helen said, shifting into lawyer mode, "her record is spotty at best. Test scores have declined in eleven of the eighteen years she's been at the school, and there is a significant rate of parent complaints—complaints that have fallen on deaf ears. I would almost suspect that something other than her academic skills is keeping her in her position, except that I can't imagine anyone involved in the education of our children would be guilty of such an ethical lapse."
He snorted. "I believe we've reached the height of irony when an associate of Vitale, Davis, Riordian, Schrechter, Partridge, and Pear Tree presumes to lecture anyone else on ethics."
Helen regarded him carefully for a long moment. "Maybe I'm not always on the side of the angels," she said with a weary smile, "but I'm uniquely positioned to know what the devils are up to. You're familiar, I trust, with the term 'statute of limitations'?"
His voice was calm, but his hectic eyes, blinking and rolling, gave him away. "What does that have to do with me?"
"It means, Superintendent Cartwright, that the bit of peculation you did to secure your present job, and that got your bagwoman promoted to principal, is no longer prosecutable. In short," she smiled, predator to prey, "you're off the hook, and out from under Angela Li's thumb."
For a moment, Helen thought he was going to continue proclaim innocence, but his resistance collapsed. "I don't think so," he said with a heavy sigh. "There are other ways to take someone down, and Angela will employ them all if I let her go."
"Not if she's arrested, she won't. You won't have any choice but to fire her, then."
"On what grounds?" he said. "There was no way to prove she did anything illegal when I did that favor for Mayor Berry. Besides, you said yourself the statute of limitations had run out."
Helen laughed. "I'm a lawyer, Superintendent. You don't think I can find something, when I can all but get a grand jury to indict her for embezzlement right now?"
A crafty look came into his eyes. "So all you want is..."
"Don't protect her," Helen said. "You don't even need to fire her. We can get the school board or the mayor to do it if we have to. All you have to do is not save her."
A beatific smile crossed his face. "I think that can be arranged." He rose, and once again extended his hand. "Thank you, Mrs. Morgendorffer. You know no idea how much I appreciate your visit."
Oh, I think I do, Helen thought as she gripped his hand. I think I do.
***
Charles had spent most of the day watching the byplay among the power groups, reflecting with amusement that he probably knew more of what was going on than anyone not named Morgendorffer. True, he'd had the advantage of his chat with Daria earlier in the day, but he also had a keen sense of observation, which allowed him to see farther than most of his peers.
For instance, he watched Andrea and Jenn at lunch, and guessed that Andrea never realized she'd been set up to make a scene earlier in the day, and not just by Quinn. Jenn's tension and withdrawal weren't noticed by Andrea—few things were when she was in a tearing rage—but they were all too apparent to Charles.
He wasn't sure of everyone who was in the know: Joey's sudden intensity was undoubtedly related to Quinn, but whether due to anger to a mission on her behalf was unclear. And Mack always played everything close to the vest. Without Jodie at his side, he was impossible to read, unless he wanted to be.
He could, however, tell who wasn't in the know: the other factions developing as Dawn's position became more tenuous. His instincts told him that Scarlett was involved, despite everything he knew of her. He'd seen her earlier, bouncing with barely suppressed excitement, and as she made a beeline toward him, he could see the same energy.
"Well, if it isn't the alluring Scarlett," he said, with a classic Upchuck leer. "I yearn to learn what such a mysterious and lovely lady wants to share with me."
"Can it, Upchuck," Scarlett snapped, fingering her ankh with nervous energy. "I'm in a position to do you a favor."
"The lovely Scarlett wishes to bestow her favors on me?" Charles placed his hand dramatically against his forehead. "Be still my beating heart."
"I don't need you," she snapped again. "So cut the crap or I walk away."
This gets more and more interesting. I wonder what she's going to offer me. "As you wish," he said, inclining his head.
She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You're bright, Upchuck, so I'm sure you can see that Dawn is going down."
He resisted the temptation to make a lewd comment. "Alas, a change in the pecking order does little to stanch the yearning in my heart. Nor would I think it much interest you. One cheerleader is much the same as another to someone whose interests lie so far outside the mainstream." Which is a delicate way of saying that she's a nutball who probably worships Satan, and if she doesn't, still wants to cast evil spells.
"Shows what you know," Scarlett said with a smirk. "Some people understand that to rule a social group, you have to be part of that social group. You also need smart lieutenants," she added, her eyes meeting his.
"Hmm...," he said. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"I'm saying that I'm in a position to give you whatever you want if you throw in with me."
"And what do you think I want?" he asked, after a moment's pause.
"A little action,' she said, and smiled unpleasantly. "A little revenge, maybe, and a little fun at someone else's expense. For instance, Daria Morgendorffer turns your down every other week, doesn't she?"
"The redoubtable Miss Morgendorffer no doubt has her reasons," he said, not liking where this conversation was going.
"They won't matter when I'm done with her," Scarlett said. "Are you in?"
He was saved from answering for a moment by the approach of Andrea, scowling furiously. "Where's Jenn?" she growled in that way she had.
"No clue," Scarlett said, "but stick around. You might hear something to your advantage. Well, Upchuck?"
Inside or outside. Think fast, Charles. You don't like Daria, but that doesn't mean you want the psycho tearing her apart. He held Scarlett's eye for a long moment. Inside it is. "How could I resist such an enticing offer from such an alluring lady. I'm yours, dear Scarlett." He bowed floridly.
"Good," she said, satisfied. "I'll see you here after school." She gave Andrea a nod. "You might want to tag along. If you're ready to ditch blondie, there might be a spot for you, too." Before the darker goth girl could respond, the redhead was gone.
Andrea gave Charles a confused look, touched only slightly with hostility. "What the hell was that about?"
"Tempted to find out?" he asked.
"Not really," she said. "I'm surprised you are."
"Not half as surprised as I am," he said with a laugh. "I suggest not being here later this afternoon no matter who you're angry with."
"What makes you think I"m angry?" she asked, as she cracked her knuckles and undermined her own question.
"I have a sense of these things, my raven-haired ravisher," he said with a lopsided smile, "and my sense is telling me that you want to steer clear of whatever is coming down."
Usually when he called her "raven-haired ravisher," she responded with "Howdy-Doody freak." Not today, though. Instead she gave him a quizzical look. "Strange advice coming from you. I might actually listen to it. Or maybe not," she added thoughtfully. "Quinn has a lot to answer for."
Charles suddenly had a very bad feeling.
***
Mack was worried. For one thing, Jodie had turned homicidal. He'd listened to her at lunch mutter about the perfidies of Morgendorffers in general and in particular. When he'd ventured a comment, she'd damn near taken his head off. Part of her anger, he reflected, might have been that he was right. Apparently, they had all been played by Quinn. Still, if that was all it was, he would likely have shrugged it off. Jodie got mad every so often. She usually took it out on him, because he was a safe target. Then she got over it, and things went back to normal. But today was different.
For one thing, the halls seemed to be humming with anxiety—students were freaked, the ones who weren't pissed, and even the teachers looked like the hounds of hell were on their tails. It was a relief to escape that fetid atmosphere into Study Hall.
As he slid into his seat, the familiar voice of Evan Larson greeted him. "Cap'n Mack."
Mack turned to face the other boy, sitting behind him., "What's up, Evan?" Evan had been a pretty big douchebag as a sophomore, but he'd gotten better this year, even before he started dating Jane.
"Is it me, or is everyone in this madhouse going even crazier?" Even's voice was low, even as he gestured toward the door. "Our fellow students either want to find a hole in the ground to pull over their heads or claw each other's faces off."
"I don't think it's you," Mack said. "And even the teachers are getting into it. DeMartino's so twitchy that he makes his usual self look like DeFoe. I heard Morris made three freshman girls pass out in gym class. And Bennett's running around like a Nazi in a Mel Brooks movie. She's stopping people in the halls and acting like a maniac."
Evan laughed as Taylor sat down in the desk next to Mack. "Did someone mention Bennett?" the newcomer said.
Even grinned. "Cap'n Mack thinks she's auditioning for To Be Or Not To Be Even Stupider."
"Yeah," Taylor chuckled. "I saw her stop one of the lacrosse players and ask him some random question, then drag him off to Li's office. I can't swear to it, but I thought I heard her say, 'Your papers are not in order.'" He winked and the other two laughed.
It was O'Neill's turn to take the Study Hall, and he began to read the roll, eyes flicking from the seating chart to the students. To Mack, his eyes looked not vague, but suddenly predatory. "What the hell is going on in this place?" he muttered to himself, earning sharp looks from the two he'd just been talking to.
"You wouldn't think even Quinn Morgendorffer could mess everyone up this badly," Evan said, partly to Mack, partly to himself.
"Ah, but there are two of them, I'll bet. That's the only way to explain this much chaos," Taylor added.
Mack still felt some loyalty, to Daria if not to Quinn, so he didn't immediately agree. Instead, he said, "But it's not all their fault, I"m sure."
Evan and Taylor both nodded. "They're turning the place upside down, but mostly to shake out the rats," Evan said.
"Quinn's dishonest, but not malicious," Taylor said. "And Daria...." His voice drifted. He still doesn't want to talk about Daria, I'll bet. Mack sighed. He knew something bad had happened there, but not what, and it bothered him. He'd always thought Taylor was good people.
He was about to respond when he felt eyes on him. He looked up to see Mr. O'Neill staring intently at him, at them. "Something you'd like to share with the group, Mack? You know I encourage a free and open sharing of feelings." It was O'Neill's normal breathy whisper, but with a sharper edge.
Mack suddenly thought of 1984. We certainly have a Big Brother mentality here. So why can't O'Neill be part of the thought police? "No, sir," he said. "I'm sorry for disturbing you."
"Oh, don't apologize, Mack," O'Neill said, his voice back to normal. "I just like to see my students share their feelings." Even and Taylor gave Mack strange looks, but he ignored them. I didn't imagine that. Something really deep and weird is going on. I hope Daria's ready for it.
***
Tiffany was very happy that Stacy was back around, because she had someone to talk to. They'd chatted all through lunch, and Stacy didn't think she was fat, which was good. It was almost like old times, except Sandi was off somewhere else with Kelly and besides, Kelly didn't talk to Sandi the way Quinn used to, so it wasn't quite like old times.
She and Stacy had seventh-period math together, but not sixth period. Stacy had an art class or something, so Tiffany had no one to talk to, until Daria showed up right after class. That conversation had been weird and made her head hurt, so sitting with Stacy again was a relief, until Stacy gave her a curious look. "So what were you talking to Daria about?"
Tiffany wasn't sure how to answer. In fact, she wasn't sure she could answer, because she hadn't understood much of what Daria said. She remembered a call from Quinn last night, though. It had been good to talk to Quinn again, even if Quinn had also been confusing. Her instructions were simple. "Do whatever Stacy does tomorrow, but do exactly what Daria tells you." And Daria had told her not to tell anyone what they talked about.
"Y'know, I didn't really understand," Tiffany said in her slow drawl. "She came up and said a bunch of stuff, then I asked her if I looked fat, and she sighed and left. She's so weird."
She felt bad about hiding the truth from Stacy, but she was listening to Quinn. After all, Quinn had told her to do what Stacy was doing, and Tiff was pretty sure Stacy was hiding stuff from her. Of course, Sandi would probably be pissed that Tiff was listening to Quinn, but Sandi hadn't told her not to. In fact, Sandi hadn't had much to say to her for the whole week.
The math teacher started droning in the background. Stacy was taking notes, so she tried to take them too, but it was hopeless. Math was not her subject. She soon faded into a daydream, but not deeply enough to miss Stacy's urgent whisper. "We have to go to the Fashion Club mirror after class. Even if we have to cut last period."
***
Stacy and Tiffany found Quinn waiting when they reached the bathroom. The redhead leaned against the door, arms crossed as she blocked the way. The smile on her face was tiny but insistent, the "cat-that-caught-the-canary" smile that Quinn used when she was pulling off, or about to pull off, a major coup. Here we go, thought Stacy.
"Hi, Quinn," Tiffany said. "It's nice to see you, but are you supposed to be here?"
"We'll see in a minute, Tiff," Quinn said, her smile unchanged. "How're you doing, Stace?"
"Fine, Quinn," Stacy replied, tone much less open than usual. Her head suddenly hurt. Here was one side. Another would shortly be here. All it needed was Dawn to start screaming threats in her ear. Though Dawn's not really relevant, since she never pretended to be my friend.
"It's nice to be together again," Quinn said, the touch of mockery in her voice undermining the sentiment. "Just the Fashion Club girls chatting together." She ignored the streams of high school humanity flowing by, and the small but growing crowd that had stopped to see what was going on. Stacy, at least, was sure Quinn knew they were there, and wanted them there. Otherwise, we'd be in the bathroom.
"It's not the whole Fashion Club," Tiffany said. "Sandi's not here." Stacy sighed inwardly. Poor Tiff. You don't even have to hand her a script. Just feed her a straight line and she spits out exactly what you want.
"Oh, I expect she'll be along any second," Quinn said, and turned her head. Sure enough, Sandi was steaming toward the bathroom. Stacy didn't even need to see her face, to know that Sandi was royally pissed. She could see it from Sandi's body language and the path that seemed to magically open up among the other students.
Sandi's face was red with rage by the time she reached the other girls. "What. Is. She. Doing. Here." she spat.
Quinn smiled, unaffected by Sandi's anger. "Discussing the future of the Fashion Club, dear."
With Herculean effort, Sandi managed to master herself. "Then let's step inside, dear." A low moan of dismay rose from the now large crowd, many of whom wanted to see a knock-down, drag-out catfight.
"Oh, no," Quinn retorted. "I want witnesses. You see, Sandi, I'm taking over the Fashion Club."
Sandi's hiss of rage fell into the stunned silence of the crowd. "And how do you expect to do that, when you're not even a member?" she snarled.
"Easy," Quinn said. "As you well know, but don't bother telling anyone else, the Fashion Club bylaws state that the president can be removed at any time by unanimous request of the members other than the president." Her smile grew more predatory, as Kelly wormed her way through the crowd.
"I call for a vote of no confidence in Sandi Griffin as president of the Fashion Club," Kelly said, fixing Sandi with an evil grin. The look Sandi returned bespoke death. The crowd waited, and all eyes fell on Stacy, as she knew they would. Quinn's words drifted through her mind. "Tiff'll do what you do, Stace. You know she will. It'll work like a charm."
The crowd held its breath, and so did Sandi. Tiffany looked trusting, Quinn edgy. Kelly sneered. "I stand with Sandi," Stacy said, and the sneer slid off Kelly's face as the crowd exhaled.
"Well," Sandi said again the smug Empress of all she surveyed. "That takes care of that. Quinn, I suggest you remove yourself," she said as she swept past into the bathroom. "The more fashionable among us need a makeup check."
Quinn let her pass, and Tiffany, but put a hand on Stacy's shoulder. "You bitch," she snapped. "This isn't over." With a toss of her red hair, she was gone, following Kelly, who had fled immediately.
So far, so good, Stacy thought, and followed Sandi and Tiffany into the bathroom.
***
Daria's last few classes were eternal. She sat on the edge of her seat, hoping the call wouldn't come but wondering when it would. Finally, the intercom crackled to life.
"Miss Morgendorffer to the Principal's Office. Miss Daria Morgendorffer to the Principal's office." The rage in Li's voice was apparent, even through the school's tinny PA system. A number of heads, heads that hadn't looked her way in two months, turned to regard her as she made her slow way out the door. She noted not a few expressions of pity.
She headed to Li's office with a purposeful stride. Nonchalance would have been better, she supposed, but this gave her a way to hide the shivers. Either she'd guessed right, and would shortly see something she didn't want to see, or she'd guessed wrong and.... Well, that didn't bear thinking about. The words Do you want fries with that? floated through her mind.
To her disappointment, she was right. She pushed open Ms. Li's door and found herself face to face not only with Li, but with Jodie as well, a manila folder on the desk in front of them—the very folder she'd given Jodie earlier in the day.
"Ms. Morgendorffer," said Ms. Li with an unholy glee. "I've asked you here to try to explain yourself. When you have failed, I will have you expelled with due cause and you will be out of my hair forever."
"I was going to ask what you wanted to see me for," Daria said, her usual deadpan hiding a shiver inside, "but I can see that would be pointless. So instead, can I ask what the hell you're talking about?"
"I'm talking about your theft of school property. Ms. Landon informs me that this," Li rested her hand on the folder, "was given to her by you."
Daria scanned the room. Jodie refused to meet her eyes, while Li waited on what seemed like the edge of ecstasy. Finally, Daria let her eyes rest on the manila folder for a moment. "That's right," she said. "I gave that to Jodie."
"So you admit it," Li said. "You make this too easy."
"Admit what?" Daria asked. "I gave Jodie a manila folder and asked her to hold onto it for me, because I have too many books to carry home today. How is this an expellable offense?"
"That's not what you said to me," Jodie spoke for the first time.
"I, uh, overstated myself," Daria said. "I didn't think that 'I'm too lazy to carry stuff home for Quinn' would get me much sympathy or help." She affected a sheepish look, but Jodie, finally meeting her eyes, was angry.
"She's lying, Ms. Li," the darker girl snapped. "Open the folder." The words of a science fiction novel Daria had just read came to her mind. If you had not gone down that path, you would never have found the trap. She sighed as Ms. Li opened the folder and slid out several 11 x 8 papers, and fanned them out.
"You see, Ms. Morgendorffer, the evidence spread out—What the hell?!" Shock painted Li's face as lifelike drawings covered her desk. The figures were female, covered in what could have been the spring line for a particularly gifted and eccentric fashion designer.
"The evidence that Jane's gone over to the Dark Side, yeah, but you can't really expel me for that." She carried off the line well, but inside her sadness roiled. You should have trusted me more, Jodie. "Jane asked me to give them to Quinn. I don't know for what, and I'm not asking. But I guess I'll have to carry them home myself. Can I go now?"
"I don't think so, Ms. Morgendorffer," Ms. Li struggled to gain control of herself. "After all, you lied to Ms. Landon, which—"
Daria was having none of it. "Is something that students do every day to each other. If lying to a classmate was an expellable offense, you'd have an empty school" And much happier teens, too.
"I will not have that tone taken with me, Ms. Morgendorffer," Ms. Li sputtered.
"Need I remind you, Ms. Li, that my mother is a lawyer? The phrase 'violation of civil rights' must still mean something around here." After a moment, she added. "And lay off Jodie. She did what she thought was right, and doesn't deserve to be punished for being wrong." This earned an odd look from Jodie, and a sneer from Li. "Nothing was farther from my mind, Ms. Morgendorffer. Now get out. But rest assured, I'm watching you."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Daria said and strode out the door, leaving a confused Jodie and a stunned Li in her wake. Her purposeful stride lasted until she turned the corner out of sight from the principal's office, where she sagged against the wall, partly in relief, partly in sheer aftershock. Looking up, she met her sister's eyes. Wordless, Quinn offered understanding and support, and Daria in turn conveyed relief and sadness. For a moment, the two took comfort in each other's presence, before taking off in opposite directions.
***
Zoe had been busy all day with what Quinn called "table setting." She was looking forward to the meal. She'd spent the day taking advantage of her status as a cheerleader to quiz the popular girls on a subject that normally wouldn't hold any appeal: the bed habits of one Skylar Feldman. The results were encouraging, to say the least.
His reputation for catches was overrated. Probably a third of the girls she'd talked to had denied anything more than one date and a kiss or two. Some had been quite indignant about being linked to him in school gossip. Nina, a curvy brunette who Zoe had known since fifth grade, was especially talkative. She didn't care about school activities or the pecking order, but she really hated Skylar.
"That shithead?" she'd snarled at a shocked Zoe. "I wouldn't let him touch me on a bet. I don't even know why I bothered to go out with him."
Zoe hadn't said anything, just raised an eyebrow.
"He spent the entire night bragging about his dad's houseboat. I knew he was trying to get me to go back there with him so he could get in my pants, but I wanted to be polite, y'know? Then he stiffed the waiter and started to drive to the marina. That's when I told him to go fuck himself and demanded he take me home. He called me every name in the book, but at least he took me home."
"So why do you let him get away with it?" Zoe asked, genuinely curious.
Nina sighed. "I tried to for awhile, at the start of this year. Warned people he was an ass, and tried to convince them I never slept with him. No one listened. Rich pretty boy with the housebout, in with all the really popular girls, everyone was lining up for him." Her brown eyes narrowed. "Most of them just told me I was jealous, because I'd had him and lost him. And then people started tying me to Bret Strand and that other little weasel, whatshisface, Corey. Like I'd ever let him in the same room with me."
"No one believed you? Some of us know Skylar's a piece of shit."
"Did he have you?" Nina asked, suddenly shrewd. Zoe's lack of response told her all she needed to know. "That might be why you know. I know he says he nailed Quinn, and that's why she's not in the Fashion Club anymore, but I don't buy it. I never talked to her much, but I mentioned Skylar to her, and she got this funny look and said she'd never get near Skylar, and that he had it in for her."
"And you never said anything to anyone?"
"Should I have? I don't really care about the popularity games, and it's not like Quinn and I are old friends. Why didn't you say something? You're a cheerleader, so you must know more than I do. And people don't seem to care if you guys put out. Me, I got saddled with a scarlet 'Slut.'"
She'd apologized to Nina and reassured her that Skylar would get his someday. She'd also heard from some "dissatisfied customers," which matched her recollection. Nikki always talked about how good he was in bed, and some of the other girls said he wasn't bad, but some of them had less happy memories. A redhead whose name she forgot had even called him "One minute wonder."
All in all, she'd talked to about 20 or 25 girls over the last day and a half, and gotten a picture of Skylar that wasn't any prettier than the one she already had. But it'll prove useful tomorrow, if Jane and Quinn are right, she thought as she opened her locker for the last time that day.
***
Ms. Li faced the window as she spoke, seemingly to no one. The other occupant of the room found the tableau suggestive of a scene from a mob movie, but was willing to go with it.
"I don't like this," she said, as she watched students walking across the green on their way to their cars or bicycles "That whole thing with Ms. Landon smells of a setup. But was she in on it? Ms. Morgendorffer defended her, but Ms. Morgendorffer has strange ideas, so that might mean nothing." She slammed her fist into her open hand. "But I should have checked before I called the little snot in. I was just so excited to get rid of her. She's been nothing but a thorn in my side."
Silence greeted this confession, so she continued. "I know there's something out there. I think DeMartino's up to something, and Ms. Morgendorffer is involved, but I can't fire him or expel her without proof because of the union and her bitch mother the lawyer."
"What about the tapes?"
"There's static all over the tapes. The cell phones and all the other crap those kids bring in interfere with the audio pickups, and I'll bet there's deliberate sabotage, but it's so careful I can't find it. I'd say that about half of the audio comes through. Enough to make me seem infallible, which is good, but not enough to let me really be infallible. There's not enough to differentiate the sabotage from the normal problems."
"So what do you need?"
"I need you to find out what the fuck is going on. I put that idiot Wilkins girl in charge to keep things stable after to Morgendoffers screwed everything up, and suddenly things are unstable again. Diane's out there interrogating every kid she meets, and that's not going to work. I need you to be subtle."
"Subtle I can do. Do you think both Daria and Quinn are involved?"
"Up to the eyebrows, Li said. "I tried to suborn the younger Ms. Morgendorffer, but she ignored me. She made a play for the Fashion Club, but it was transparent. She wanted to fail." She turned, finally facing the room. "I want them gone. I want them both gone, and DeMartino too, if you can arrange it. Find me proof that they're stepping out of line."
"I know they're disruptive, but what's the obsession with the Morgendorffer girls anyway? They're just playing popularity games."
"Not anymore." Li's eyes narrowed to slits behind her glasses. "They know we've been propping Dawn up, and I'll bet Daria knows why. We've hidden our tracks well, but nothing that will stand a really good investigation. And remember, if they find out about me, they find out about you." A mordant smile crossed her face. "Unless you fancy ten years in jail for embezzlement?"
Timothy O'Neill chuckled, the breathy whine gone from his voice. "I admit, I'm planning to retire soon, but to Rio, not Leavenworth." His expression hardened as he added, "I'll find what you need."
***
Andrea looked around. About twenty kids filled the AV Room, some on chairs, some on desks, a couple on the window sills, and Scarlett up front, with Upchuck standing next to her. It occurred to Andrea to wonder how Scarlett, who was known to be unstable, had managed to gather so many people in so short a time. After all, outcasts are usually outcast because they're different, and they're also different from other outcasts.
But gather them she had—stoners, nerds, tech geeks, and a couple of other goths that Andrea had no time for all sat waiting for whatever was about to begin to begin. Scarlett fingered her ankh, waiting for the appropriate moment, or for the little blue people only she saw to give her the go ahead. Finally, she cleared her throat. "You're probably wondering why I've called you all here," she said, and then gave a weird chuckle.
Andrea, from her vantage in the back, could see heads turn. Probably wondering how just crazy Scarlett really is, she thought.
Scarlett continued. "The pecking order in this school hasn't been kind to any of us," she said. "The popular kids ignore us if we're lucky, put us down or beat us up if we aren't. I don't know about you all, but I'm getting pretty tired of it."
The long-haired stoner that Andrea knew as Shaggy spoke, "So what? It's not like there's anything we can do about it, besides get the hell out of here at graduation."
Scarlett started hard at Shaggy for a minute before addressing the room. "Is that what the rest of you think?"
A low murmur filled the room, and several voices turned out variations of "I guess so."
Scarlett turned to Upchuck. "What about you, Charles?" Another sussuration went through the room at the sound of Upchuck's seldom spoken real name.
"I think our esteemed peers haven't given the issue much thought, my dear Scarlett," he returned with a cheerful leer.
She nodded. "I think you're right, Charles. They haven't thought about it." Her face hardened. "But I have. The popular kids run in packs. If we want to keep them out of our faces, we have to run as a pack, too. Right now, we're disorganized. The AV kids don't talk to the stoners, the stoners don't talk to the goths, the goths don't talk to the geeks."
She paused and another voice filled in, one of the aforementioned AV kids. "Because we don't have anything in common."
"So?" Scarlett sneered. "You think the popular kids do? The only thing they have in common is wanting to stay popular and put down everyone who isn't. I say we get organized and carve our a place for ourselves, a place where we can't be picked on." She grinned an evil grin. "And maybe we can get some of our own back."
Andrea wondered if people were buying this. She wished Jen were here. Jen was fun to bounce rude comments off, and Andrea didn't like anyone else here enough to talk to. And Jen was not the only one conspicuous by her absence.
"What does Daria think of this?" a high-pitched male voice said. Ted DeWitt-Clinton, Andrea thought, noting the blonde hair and the open expression. "Shouldn't she be here, too?"
"The lovely Miss Morgendorffer was regrettably unable to attend," Upchuck oozed.
"And what the hell do we need her for anyway?" Scarlett asked.
"Well, she's smart," Ted said, and a couple of heads near him nodded. "So's Jane, but Jane's on the track team, so she's not really an outcast any more."
"Like she'd bother with any of us," Scarlett almost snarled. "I'm smart too, and unlike little Miss nose-in-the-air, I don't think I'm too good to be bothered with anyone else."
"I don't think that's—" Ted started but was cut off.
"Look, I don't give a shit about Morgenbitch, okay. She's not here, and we are, and if she wants in, she can beg. But we've gotta get to work: start doin' things together, stickin' together in the halls and at lunch, swingin' our elbows a bit, and makin' sure we're noticed. Go on dates and show up at the snooty French restaurants the popular kids go to, just to make 'em squirm. Whaddaya think?"
I think you're nuts, Andrea thought, as Upchuck spoke, an oily smile on his Howdy Doody face. "We think this could be a new era at Lawndale High, and we want you all on board, especially you lovely ladies." He gave an Upchuck growl. "Take tonight to think about it, and if you're on board, meet back here tomorrow."
Scarlett nodded. "I look forward to seeing you all here tomorrow," she added, looking positively feral.
Andrea caught flashes of conversation, divided equally between questions about whether Scarlett's plans could work or whether Scarlett was off her meds. The redhead herself spared Andrea a weighing look, but not a word as she headed out, leaving only Upchuck in the room. He gave Andrea a small smile, so unlike his usual over-the-top demeanor. "What did you think?"
"I think Scarlett's off her rocker, and full of shit to boot."
He laughed, "Perceptive, if painfully blunt. She does tend to be, ah, overly impassioned."
"But what I don't get," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "is what you're up to. You're reasonably bright for a walking hormone, and I can't see why you'd want to be tied to that performance."
"Dj'ever watch NewsRadio?" He smiled at her confused look. "When the big man comes at the small man with all his force, it's the wise small man who gets out of his way." She continued to look confused, so he added, "I don't like working when I don't have to, so I just got out of the way."
Sudden comprehension dawned. "So you're saying?"
"If you show up tomorrow, that'll most likely make three of us."
***
Daria decided that she didn't like covert operations about the same time her boot started to chafe. She was normally a pretty good walker, but she didn't appreciate the need to walk almost all the way back to 1111, only to duck quickly down a side street and head back to the other side of town. She had no one to blame but herself, so she gritted her teeth and soldiered on.
Another ten minutes brought her to the Funky Doodle on Dega Street. Coming here was a calculated risk, since it was a fashionable alternative boutique, but then the day had been full of risks: DeMartino giving her the evidence, her pulling the switch on Jodie, and most of all the person she'd given the real folder of evidence too. And Quinn had assured her that the Fashion Club came here infrequently, and on a regular schedule, while none of the cheerleaders would be caught dead here. Trust Quinn to know things like that.
Pushing open the door, her eye was drawn by an orange and white check pullover. For a second, just a second, she pictured herself wearing it, and then shook her head. Never again.. Looking around, she made her way to the back of the store, where she trusted, against all reason, that her manila folder would be there.
Her heart began to beat when she found no one there. A frantic search of a few minutes failed, and she was just about to begin a sulfurous subvocal tirade when a slow voice said, "Hi, Daria," and Tiffany Blum-Deckler emerged from a well hidden dressing room.
"Uh, hi, Tiffany," Daria returned. "Do you have the folder I gave you?" A sudden sense of unreality assaulted Daria's mind, but she made sure to keep it from her face.
Tiffany nodded and pulled out the manila folder Daria had given her earlier in the day. "I didn't look at it," she said. "You told me not to, so I didn't."
"Good," Daria said. "The less you know the better."
"Huh?" Tiffany said, as Daria took the folder and flipped open her backpack. "I thought you wanted everyone to know stuff. At least that's what Quinn used to say."
"Well, I mean—" Daria started to say, but then she stopped. "You know what? If I try to explain, it's not going to make any sense to either of us."
"Okay," Tiffany said. "What's that?" She added, as she pointed at the folder in Daria's backpack, so similar to the one in Daria's hand."
"The fake folder I showed Ms. Li." Daria said. "It's drawings of dresses done by Jane Lane. Do you want them?"
"Dresses? Sure!" Tiffany said. "Are they pretty?"
"I don't know. I don't really have an eye for that sort of thing. But Jane said I could do whatever I wanted with them. You can call it payment, or a reward, if you want." Daria pushed the bag toward Tiffany, who grabbed the folder with a smile. "Thanks."
"Thank you, Tiffany. And Quinn thanks you too." Daria said. She flipped the folder open and riffled through the pages. "Now, I have to get this home. I suggest waiting here for ten minutes or so."
"Uh, okay," Tiffany said, but Daria had already turned to go, speeding out the door, leaving what seemed like a green blur shooting down Dega Street.
Timothy O'Neill, driving past, caught the flash of green. Was that Daria coming out of the Funky Doodle? That's strange. He looked away to regard the road, and by the time he looked back she was gone. He pulled over to think, and noted Tiffany Blum-Deckler's emergence ten minutes later. Coincidence? Or something exceedingly strange? "I'd better keep an eye on this," he said aloud and drove off, mind whirling.
***
How the hell did I get myself into this? Jane mentally berated herself. She turned to see Skylar's handsome face in profile as he drove. Oh yeah. It's to make this oily sonofabitch crawl. He'd dragged her to Chez Pierre despite her hints, subtle and obvious, that she didn't want an expensive meal, and spent two and a half hours telling her how wonderful he was and how rich his parents were. She was about ready to cry with relief when he finally paid the bill.
She was tempted then and there to ask him to take her home, but she wanted to see what else he had in store, so they were speeding toward the bay. After a moment, he pulled into a small lot at the edge of a park. "We're here," he said, and hopped out of the car.
Jane sat waiting for a moment until he realized and opened her door as well. She would never have expected, or wanted, such outdated chivalry from a guy she actually gave a shit about, but anything she could learn about Skylar was all to the good. She gathered her light jacket around her shoulders as she stepped from the car. It was shaping up to be a very pretty night, with a clear sky and just a hint of chill from the water. All in all, a night for cuddling. Too bad I'd rather cuddle a live crododile than the guy I'm with.
"Let's walk," Skylar said with an oily smile, resting his hand on her arm. She didn't recoil, and let her guide him across a sward of grass to a small path, lit mostly by moonlight, and the occasional lamp hundreds of yards apart.
"So what do you think, Jane?" he said.
"It's lovely," she replied. "I never even knew this was here."
"It runs from the country clubs to the marina. Just a nice little stretch of parkland. During the day, you get a lot of joggers and bikers and rollerbladers. Country club families." 'Like mine,' he didn't add, but she heard it anyway. "It's nicer at night."
She knew she was expected to ask, so she did. "And why is that?"
"Because at night, it's for lovers."
She tried her hardest to repress a shudder. "On a first date?" she said, and added a very artificial giggle.
"Why not? My parents' boathouse is a five-minute walk away. Not too far even on a chilly night like this, and then we can make a little heat of our own, hey?"
Deep down, she knew she should be uncomfortable. After all, she was alone with him. But mostly what she felt was contempt and amusement. How does he get away with this cheeseball crap? It was all she could do not to burst out laughing. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Skylar. After all, we hardly know each other."
His touch on her arm never changed, nor did the tone of his voice. What she could see of his expression remained affable, but something indefinable changed. "Are you sure, Jane?"
C'mon, she thought. Bite. "I think so. You're really sweet and all, but this is just too fast for me."
"Well, if you say so," he said. "But if I were you, I'd change my mind. You see," he added, and here his voice turned ugly, "I'm going to tell everyone we did it anyway, so you may as well have the fun to go with the reputation."
Yes! "You bastard! That's horrible!"
"Not really," he oozed. "After all, I'm a damn good lay, so you'll have a really good time. And if you're good too, we can have a lot more good times."
"I don't think so," she growled, not faking anger in the least. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"I'm Skylar Feldman, baby." He laughed, an ugly sound. "One more chance, and then you're on your own."
"That doesn't seem so bad," she said, trying hard to put an edge of fear into her voice.
"Ask Quinn Morgendorffer what it's like to go up against me. But maybe you won't mind being friendless and ignored again. Shall we go?" He gave her a mocking bow.
Quinn's got more friends than you think. There's Daria and me, and the little recorder on the inside of my jacket. And I've got what I need here. "I don't think so," she said. "It's only a couple of miles back to Lawndale."
"Suit yourself." Skylar shrugged and headed back down the path to the car. Jane, heedless of her dressy outfit, took off toward the road not far away.
***
Papers covered the Morgendorffer kitchen table, Jane had been dispatched to a bar for a night out, and the three Morgendorffer women sat in what could only be a described as a council of war. Helen, one receipt in her hand, regarded her older daughter with not a little wariness. "You say Mr. DeMartino gave you these?"
Daria nodded. "He passed them back to me with my test in second period. Do you think they're admissible?"
Helen considered. "Normally, I wouldn't be sure, but I could probably call in another favor at the office. There's easily enough here for a warrant if the judge doesn't ask too many questions."
From the other side of the table, Quinn spoke. "But wouldn't they just throw out anything found on the warrant on appeal? I mean, if you have to play the judge to get the warrant, Li'll have a smart lawyer to get her off on a technicality."
Daria's look held new respect, but Helen just raised an eyebrow.
"Another smart lawyer," Quinn added hastily.
Helen smiled at the acknowledgment and nodded. "It's possible. I certainly wouldn't want to hang a case on it if I needed a conviction." Her face took on a thoughtful look. "Of course, all we really need is to push her out. A perp walk would be nice, but it's not exactly necessary."
"What are you saying, Mom?" Daria asked. "I thought we agreed that Li deserved to go to jail."
"That's true, but not the point. What you want and what you need are two different things. What about Mr. DeMartino, for example?"
"What about him?" Daria asked. "I'd think Cartwright would make him principal for getting rid of Li, right?"
"Don't be so naive, Daria." This from Quinn again. "If Li goes to jail, Cartwright will have to clean house if he wants to keep his job. DeMartino's been a part—maybe an unwilling part, but still a part—of Li's machine for years."
"Very good, Quinn." Helen nodded. "And if you'll forgive me for misquoting The Lord of the Rings, Daria, many people deserve justice, but are you wise enough to give it to them? Especially when it might do injustice to other people?"
Daria sighed. "Point taken. But then we're back to square one. Even with this information, we have nothing on Li."
"I wouldn't say that." Helen said, and her smile was positively predatory. After a short explanation, mirror smiles looked back at her from both her daughters.
End Thursday