6.
As they came up to the broken-down black van on the side of the road, Rob stared in shock and went: "Oh my god. It's the A-Team."
"I don't know," said Daria, taking a closer look at the filthy machine. "I'm not sure it's meant to be black…"
By the van, two young men – a lanky, sleepy faced man with an attempt at a beard and a blank-eyed long-haired youth with a leather vest and no other top; the very thing you'd imagine if you heard the word "slacker" or "student band" – were looking at their engine in dismay.
"Looks like they need a hand." Rob pulled over to park.
"And it looks like that one needs a shirt," said Daria.
He got out of the car, retrieving a toolkit from the car boot and calling to the grateful rockers. Daria took a brief glance at Amelia; the girl looked back. A brief second of hesitation, and then Amelia spoke.
"Want to get out and write 'Clean Me' on their back window?"
"Oh yes."
The plan hit a slight snag when the girls got out and could see the van drivers more clearly. The lanky, lazy one looked a lot more… impressive up close, and when he spoke to Rob he had a husky voice that caused Daria to spontaneously blush.
"Amelia? Help."
She physically guided the girl away and around to the back of the van, and then hit the second snag: a previously unseen third stranger, a black haired girl in a short-cut red jacket who was pretending to shoot passing cars with a glue gun.
She gave the girls a lazy wave. "Yo."
Amelia blushed. "Um."
"What did you come back here for?"
"Um." She started to fidget. "No reason."
"We were going to write 'Clean Me' on the back of your van," said Daria.
"Fighting a losing battle there, amiga." She patted the vehicle proudly. "No one cleans the Tank. It can't be done."
"I suppose that's good. If you cleaned it, it would lose all its character."
"It loses everything else. I'm not entirely sure, but we may have broken down because the engine fell out. Has to happen some day!"
"Don't be absurd. Your engine will explode and kill you all in fiery agony long before that happens."
The girl smirked. "Oh, promises, promises. I got a Maths test on Monday, that explosion would be pretty handy."
"What if you rig the Tank to explode in the school? No test. No school. No downside."
"Trent – that's my brother, the one who knows shirts exist – Trent and his band need the van to get around. Otherwise they'd need to walk to gigs. That'd count as exercise."
"I was going to ask if his band was any good, but since they're driving in the Biohazard-mobile…"
"They're better than the Spice Girls."
"That wasn't what I asked."
"Don't make me choose between family and truth. Truth will win, and I'll be made to walk home." She held out a hand. "Jane."
She shook it. "Daria."
"And you?"
"Amelia," she said quietly, shaking Jane's hand.
"So Amelia, you know why they call this thing the Tank?"
"Er, no. Why?"
"Crap. I was hoping someone would. I think it's because the band's drummer had to get tanked up before he thought buying it was a good idea."
"My brother thinks it looks like the A-Team truck."
"What do you think?"
Amelia fidgeted some more before, hesitantly, saying "it looks like something that begins with 'A'…"
"Ooo. That's rude," said Jane, smiling. "You two wanna go see if the boys have got it fixed yet?"
"Hoping to escape me already?" asked Daria. "I don't blame you."
Her voice was light, calm. Under the surface, she was horrified. Jane was an interesting girl, someone laconic and possessing a sharp, sardonic sense of humour; she was someone Daria felt instantly comfortable talking to. The conversation had been effortless, an experience she'd never had before. It had been fun. It had been wonderful.
And until Jane reminded her, she'd completely forgotten Amelia had been standing there.
She felt sick.
The Tank spluttered, whined, cried, and coughed its way back to life. The men cheered.
"National Guard field mechanics training!" Rob raised a 'rock' gesture to the sky. "Always Ready, Always There!"
"Cool," replied Trent. A second later, he noticed the girls. "Hey. You weren't there before."
Daria felt her mouth dry up as he looked at her. ('Oh god, no. This is embarrassing.')
"We're, er, with him."
"Oh. Going to Alternapalooza too?"
"Yeah."
"You're a bit overdressed for it. It looks like you just ran away from school to go."
"I did."
He smiled. "Cool."
"Hey, I'll look out for y'all at the concert," said Jane. "I can indulge my sarcasm with two people understanding me at last!"
"A childhood dream for the ages."
"Nah, my childhood dream involved ponies. Ponies that turned into giant robots. It was awesome."
"I dreamt I was an only child, and when I woke up that dream caused nothing but pain."
"I am so going to think of a line to top that for when we get there." Jane headed off to the Tank, waving as she went. "Have fun, Daria and Amelia! And if you need help, maybe you too can hire the A… yeah, never mind."
She'd done it again. She'd been talking to Jane and forgotten to include Amelia - forgotten Amelia. And a brief glance showed that Amelia, while trying to hide it, had noticed.
That was not what the girl deserved.
Was this what she was, deep down? Was this really what she was going to do to people who helped her? All her morals, all her standards, all her condemnation of the idiots and jerks and bastards around her, was she going to do this to someone who had gone out of their way for her?
Back in Rob's car, she tried to think of something to say to Amelia to fix things.
She couldn't.