Size does matter - Chapter 9
by HawkingRadiation
Story (c) 2008 by HawkingRadiation (aka BlackHole at PPMB, SFMB)
Daria and associated characters are (c) 2008 MTV Networks
Threat
"Quinn?" Daria addressed her sister, who was more or less sleepwalking some steps behind her through the park towards LHS. She wasn't a morning person; neither was Daria, but Daria had developed a taste for coffee rather early. That gave her a head start over Quinn.
"Hmm?"
"You've been hanging around with some girl, brownish wavey hair, dainty figure, about that size, 'hip' clothes?" Daria asked her sister, indicating the height in question with her hand.
With the limited interaction Quinn had had with her peers, matching that rather coarse description was not difficult. No braids, not Asian...
"Uhm, yeah, that could be Sandi." Quinn wondered how Daria knew what people she was 'hanging out' with - and why she would care.
"I think she's Convertible Girl."
It took Quinn a second to get what her sister meant, but then she started to snicker. "Yeah, I bet she's flexible like a folding top. But that doesn't make you a super hero outside..."
Daria rolled her eyes at Quinn's vivid imagination.
"I meant she looked like the girl who made a pass at me before I even reached school last Tuesday; about exactly a week ago. She was driving a car, a convertible."
"Daria, Sandi's a freshman."
"Ah. Right. Well, then not."
They continued their way to school and Quinn recalled first meeting the three girls of the Fashion Club. The rude words Sandi had used referring to Daria were still present in her mind. Quinn started to snicker again. She imagined Sandi making a pass at Daria in her adorable style and Daria giving the cold shoulder, and likely some choice words.
"I'll try to find out about the car. If she really is 'Convertible Girl', you just made my day."
Quinn still had a wide grin plastered to her face as the sisters reached the school grounds. Daria did not dare to ask for the reason.
Jane was as late as permissable for homeroom again. She spotted Daria sitting in her usual place and felt comfortable to show a tiny gesture of greeting in passing. Their little talk the day before had left her with the impression that Daria was a person worth knowing better, and the fact that she acknowledged the gesture indicated that Daria was willing to get to know the loser art chick that Jane was to her other class mates.
History was uneventful since Jane was used to Mr. DeMartino. Even in their sophomore year, some of her classmates had still not figured out how to give at least a half-assed answer to his questions. A stellar example was Kevin, who managed to condense 200 years of American history into two facts and three movies.
Between history and math Jane had to make a pit stop at her locker and had hence no opportunity to talk to Daria again. No one talked to her, and she spoke to no one. This was basically a convenient arrangement for Jane, as it allowed her to observe her surroundings with little interaction. Thorough observation in an objective manner was the key to art. Only if one saw the things the way they really were, one was able to capture their real essence.
Jane had never been a people person. Not that she had problems interacting with other people, it was groups of people that gave her grief. To climb in the pecking order people would do everything. And Jane really hated to be lied to or played, so she stayed outside the partial order that established itself at school.
Quinn spotted Stacy and the other girls of the Fashion Club in the hallway on her way to their combined history class. Catching up with them, she started a conversation.
"Hi Stacy, Sandi, Tiffany!"
Stacy gave a little wave, Tiffany gave something akin to a nod while Sandi took the lead.
"Hel-lo Qu-winn. You were rather late this morning and left home room in such an unpopular hurry."
"I was running a little late this morning, and had to stop by my locker before heading off to my French class, so I was a little short on time."
Quinn had been thinking about what to do with the information her sister had provided. Immediately running into the Fashion Club was a bad idea, so she had stalled herself with a walk around the parking lot after arriving at the school grounds. That had given her some time to think. Sandi's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"The Fashion Club meets every morning to discuss the current affairs of fashion, evaluate the color coordination of its individual members and schedule the further activities of the day. Absence during this meeting is not permissable for any member. But then, this doesn't affect you."
"You guys' dedication to the matters of fashion is really to be admired."
"Like, today, we've scheduled our next trip to the mall to sample the new line of cosmetics due to arrive on Thursday. I would have invited you, but I guess you'll be indisposed because of your sweaty time."
Stacy and Tiffany gave a slight 'EW' and Quinn saw an opportunity to tease some information out of Sandi.
"Yeah, but mom won't let me skip out of that. How are you guys getting there, by the way? It's a pretty long walk from school. Don't tell me by bus?"
"Are you suggesting I could be riding the bus anywhere, Quinn? Of course not the bus!" Sandi answered with a tone that indicated serious disapproval.
"Don't worry Sandi, I thought exactly so. So who's driving you?" Quinn smiled back in a disarming way.
"We are of course riding in my car."
«'My car' equals she's got one and she drives. Maybe I can get even more...»
"Your own car, that's so very convenient, Sandi."
"Not that you would know."
Stacy watched with morbid fascination how Sandi tore into Quinn while Quinn evaded her attacks with the grace of a Shaolin monk. She looked at Tiffany, who was rather disturbed by Sandi's recent behaviour.
"You're right, I haven't ridden in your car so far." Quinn angled for more information.
"Gee, Quinn, I would never offer you a ride in my convertible, since with your size you wouldn't even get cover behind the windshield. No way I would risk you getting convertible hair."
«Bingo. Nice to meet you, Convertible Girl.»
Quinn had now a hard time keeping a straight face, but she had to. Her knowing about Sandi's mishap had to be kept under wrap. Either to settle in peace with Sandi - or ...
"That's so caring of you, Sandi."
"As president of the Fashion Club it is my duty to prevent all sorts of fashion accidents."
Stacy used the ensuing pause to nudge the conversation to a new topic.
"You really have to check that new cosmetics line later, Quinn. Waif gave it an excellent review. And no animal testing!"
Quinn joined in on the topic halfheartedly. Her contact with professional grade cosmetics had given her a new view on consumer products. Considering its price, its quality was a joke. You could do much better for less money - but didn't get a hip brand name.
Charles Ruttheimer III's life at school had undergone some dramatic changes. He was still able to look at the fairer gender, but anything beyond that had become suicidal. Given, not all of the ladies at LHS had welcomed his attention, but a real man just had to pay his respects to the greatest achievement of evolution: women.
That had changed just a week ago. Charles observed Daria from afar. She shared most of his classes, and always sat behind him or next to him. He wasn't exactly sure why that elaborate plan was set into motion, but there was no doubt the he was the target. Ms. Barch had it in for everything male and gave him an evil eye ever since his freshman year.
After she shooed the sophomore girls from the showers into their lunch break, Ms. Morris dropped in on Coach Gibson on her way to the teachers' lounge.
"Hey Gibson, you've met Daria?"
"The Shemale? Yeah, she had the gall to show up to the training Monday morning."
Ms. Morris laughed at his choice of words.
"Well, it's open training. And rest assured, she's female all over."
Coach Gibson snorted.
"Right. But the team's using the gym in the mornings."
"I doubt she gave you any trouble."
"She didn't, but there was only one other student to train on Monday."
"Hm? Gym's about weights, not people. How does that relate?"
"She's a girl, and not on the team to begin with."
«Now she's a girl...»
"Right, but no doubt she can do weights."
"She'll disturb the team's training."
Ms. Morris did not like the way this was going. The implementation of her idea to placate Ms. Li could turn out more complicated than she expected.
"How so? What does she do different than everyone else?"
"I told you, she's a girl and not on the team. She'll disturb the boys. Can't you get her to go to your girly time?"
Ms. Morris was not pleased with his derogatory answer, but kept her tongue in check. Fighting him would not solve her problem.
"Gibson, did her workout look girly in any way to you?"
"But... Damn, you know what I mean."
"Yes. But it's her choice. You know, trying to keep her out of the open hours would cause a hell of a stink."
"Hrmpf. Crap PCness everywhere. Well, maybe she'll notice on her own that she's out of place."
«And maybe you'll notice that your POV is from the sixties. 1860s.»
"Maybe, but it must be her decision. You don't want to experience Li's wrath after the Sun-Herald had 'Sexism at LHS' headlines, do you?"
"Hell, of course not!"
"Keep that in mind. So we'll just have to go with the flow. I'm off to lunch now. Later."
That said, Ms. Morris left the gym. "Damn prejudices." she muttered to herself.
Sandi steered the Fashion Club's conversation during lunch suddenly into a direction Quinn was not expecting by any means.
"Any idea what the perv is up to?"
"No, Sandi. Upchuck hasn't even leered at me for about a week. And I haven't heard of any other incidents either."
"Neiiiither have Iiii."
That immediately got Quinn's attention, but left her a little confused.
"Upchuck? Perv? Leered?"
Stacy offered an explanation. "The school pervert. We have been at LHS barely three weeks, but you get that really fast. He hits on anything remotely looking female."
"... incluuuding sheeeep ..."
Stacy stopped to glance at Tiffany for her unusual comment, so Sandi continued. There were things that even she would not wish upon her enemy.
"A complete sleaze, ugly as the night, totally uncool, and highly unpopular. Notorious, clever, and presumably rich though. Makes you want to throw up, hence his nickname 'Upchuck'."
"Sophomore. Reallly creeepy." Tiffany said and shuddered.
"They say he knows how to use a camera. And how to hide it." Stacy remembered the things the junior cheerleaders had talked about.
"I can hardly believe that he's that bad and still out of jail."
"Heed our warning or not, that's up to you. Go on, try to talk some manners into that leech. You can't miss him, he's a red head. Like you." Sandi quipped.
"I don't think I'd like to be exposed to that disturbed low-life, Sandi. That requires the attention of someone with more experience with helping people."
«Like the insolent bitch of a president of the oh-so-helpful Fashion Club!»
Whether Sandi got Quinn's subtle insult or not was not visible on her outside. Quinn assumed the latter and decided to end things here.
"At leeeast he staaaayed cleeeear of us for a weeek."
"Yeah, thank heavens, Tiffany!" Stacy chimed in. Tiffany's unusual strong opinion on that matter made her wonder what had happened between the two.
Stacy retold some of the stories she had heard from older girls about that person. Even if most things were exaggerated, Quinn wondered how he had managed to stay in school - or out of jail to start with. Daria was a sophomore as he allegedly was. Maybe she knew more.
"Did you notice? That Quinn girl hasn't been hit on by Upchuck. She doesn't even meet his standards. Pathetic."
"Uhm, Sandi, didn't Quinn happen to arrive around the time when he stopped hitting on any girls?"
"You're right, Stacy. Maybe she seems so repulsive to him that he lost interest in girls all together. Poor guy."
"Sheee should get a meeedal, then."
Sandi glared at Tiffany. This turn of the conversation was not what she had intended.
Stacy could not deny a possible connection between Upchuck's improved manners and Quinn's arrival at LHS. But she seriously doubted that the reason was the kind Sandi suggested. Maybe... Daria! Likely Upchuck had hit on Daria - and she had hit in return. No, according to the stories that was not sufficient to stop that sleazeball.
After PE, Jane and Daria ended up changing at the same benches as they did the week before. This time, however, Jane did not hide around the corner but gave Daria a friendly greeting. To Jane's surprise, Daria started a conversation.
"How do you manage to be sent running laps every gym class? That's not exactly a punishment for you."
"The feud between Ms. Morris and the Lanes is legend. This arrangement is our version of a cease fire."
"'The Lanes'?" Jane saw that Daria continued to undress herself while she spoke, so she did as well.
"I'm the youngest of five. All my siblings have graced the halls of Lawndale High."
The sarcasm did not pass by Daria.
"Right. And the cease fire?"
"I come in a little or do something else and get sent off to run laps. I do a sport I like, stay out of Morris' hair, and she saves face. Everyone wins." Jane shrugged.
"Sweet deal. Getting out of that contortions..."
"Not your kind of thing, either?"
Daria stopped, faced Jane - now butt naked - , and spread her arms a little. "Do I look anything like a prospective cheerleader?"
Jane was again taken a little aback by Daria's open display, but didn't fail to notice the short pause Daria had made as she likely censored herself.
«At least you've enough shame not to go through a routine for 'demonstration purposes'.»
"No. But you don't look like a couch potato either."
"Let's hit the showers." Daria changed the topic while rolling her eyes.
The girl joined the stream of bodies heading for the showers. Jane headed towards one of the unoccupied shower heads as Daria spoke up.
"Unless you want your own share of lesbian rumors you'd better stay clear of me."
That said, Daria steered to another showerhead — at the opposite end of the shower room from the one Jane had just activated.
Jane was confused. One moment Daria had a conversation with her, the next she ended it as abruptly as she began it. Thinking about this odd behaviour, Jane got herself ready for the lunch break. In her musing Jane failed to notice the irked glances some of the girls around her shot at her while dressing. They were very carefull to make sure that they were always as covered as possible. But as most of the time, a rumor started without anyone noticing.
Daria had managed to shower and dress much quicker than Jane had and was likely already in line for her lunch. Jane had spotted her sitting at the silent table several times the last week. Jane would have preferred to sit there as well, but it was too far away from the food counter. The food was far from good, but it was plenty and one warm meal a day that Jane could count on. Immediately after PE, she might even go for thirds today.
"So this is what made Ernest Hemingway immortal." Mr O'Neill concluded his monologue on 'The Old Man and the Sea' just before the bell ended the class.
"Or all the alcohol simply preserved his corpse really well." Daria mumbled to herself, but loud enough to send some of the students packing their bags around her snickering.
"Class! Please remember to read the first story from 'In Our Time' for the next lesson!" Mr. O'Neill tried to repeat the homework, but with the class busy leaving that was forlorn hope.
"If you'd said that in your time they might have heard that. Heard. Not understood, not remembered." Jane heard Daria comment while she was leaving the class room. From the way Mr. O'Neill winced, he had gotten the comment as well.
Jane walked up to Daria and tried to talk to her again.
"Conversation with your alter ego?"
"No, we're not on speaking terms anymore."
"She made moves on your boyfriend?"
"No, read my diary."
"Bitch."
Daria looked at Jane and saw her grin.
"She can't read Latin, though."
"Soo, you're talking to yourself. First sign of madness, they say."
"At least I am talking to someone who listens - and understands."
Jane had no idea who Daria was referring to. «The 'at least' part is O'Neill. But the rest?»
The girls walked in silence to the computing lab for their next class.
Grinning, Mack left the class room accompanied by his girlfriend Jodie, who spoke up in an irritated voice.
"You heard that, Mack? That was low."
"But true and funny."
"It was still mean to say it in a way that Mr O'Neill could overhear it."
"I don't think that was planned, Jodie."
"Still, she shouldn't say such things."
"What's the problem, Jodie? O'Neill is an adult and a teacher to begin with. He should to be able to take a joke."
«Or at least that's what one would expect.»
"He's sensitive when it comes to his teaching qualification. I think that is really bad conduct."
«Maybe O'Neill should work on not providing an opportunity for such comments.»
"Give her some leeway. Daria's been here for just a week, she can't know everyone's quirks."
"I think Daria has a mean streak. And would you mind telling me why you are defending her?!"
Mack was taken by surprise by the resentment carried in Jodie's voice.
"I'm not defending her. I don't know her and give her the benefit of doubt until I do. That's seems the normal thing to do to me."
Jodie didn't answer immediately, but her gestures made obvious that she accepted Mack's line of reason - for now.
"This class meets the criteria for 'torture' as defined by the Geneva Convention."
Jane looked up from packing her backpack. It was Daria who addressed her.
"Yes, but we're labeled unlawful combatants so the GC won't apply to us."
"I wonder where I heard that before..."
"No idea." Jane shrugged with a grin, and Daria displayed a tiny grin of her own.
"So. What did you do to get convicted?"
"Said the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person."
"Pissing off a teacher got you in here?"
"Worse. Pissed of the school psychologist. You?"
«Transferred in two weeks after the year started? 10:1 on mouthing off at a teacher, 5:2 on PDA - the good kind, 1:3 on PDA - the bad kind.»
"About the same."
«Damn, that says about nothing.» "Oh joy. This could take some time. This is my seventh cycle."
"You're kidding?! The exam can't be that difficult!"
"I could pass the test, but I like having low self-esteem. It makes me feel special."
Daria gave Jane a look of disbelief, so she continued.
"Ok, ok, not really. You knew that you're getting reevaluated by the shrink after the test - and she gets the final say?"
Daria's groan made it clear to Jane that she had lost the bet with herself. The girls split up for the day. Daria excused herself to her locker while Jane was eager to get home. Some weird web sites she had spotted during her clandestine surfing in the computing class had triggered her muse.
"Thanks for taking me to the library, Dad." Daria said as she and her father entered the Morgendorffer home. She had acquired a new library card and immediately borrowed some psych books that might give her a head start at testing out of the accursed self esteem class.
"No problem, kiddo. And your driving is improving by the day. You'll be ready for the driving test in no time!"
«Kiddo my ass.»
"Yes, but I need to be past my birthday. Looking older doesn't count."
"That's just five weeks away. With a little more practice passing the exam is going to be a breeze."
"I'm not that confident 'bout that, dad. I feel I need much more practice."
After shedding their shoes and jackets both Morgendorffers now entered the kitchen.
"We'll see to that, Daria."
"Please dad. I don't think I'll be able to handle mom's house on wheels."
«Or mom.»
Daria washed her hands while her father looked into a wall cabinet.
"I told you: I'll see to that. Simple dinner today? Spaghetti?"
"You do the carbonara part, I do the salad. Will mom be home soon?"
Daria immediately went to work and readied the required utensils.
"Unless there's another unexpected meeting, yes."
Quinn dropped into the kitchen a little later to see what was for dinner but didn't stick around. On her way back to her room she smiled on the efficiency that her father and her sister displayed in the kitchen if they weren't arguing.
Helen came home only a little later than planned, and Daria started the pasta as she came in. Dinner was a quiet affair, as Quinn was busy musing what to do with the possible school pervert. She had met rude boys before, but none had been seriously labeled a pervert. The stories the other girls had told her were scary - even if only a small percentage of them was true. Right now, she needed more information.
"Quinn?"
Quinn turned around on the easy chair she sat in listening to some music on her stereo and found her sister standing in the half-opened doorway. This could be an opportunity to question Daria a little.
"What's the matter?"
"The bathroom. It looks like a bomb went off in there."
Quinn suddenly had a very good idea where the conversation was going and tried to placate her sister.
"Naa, it can't be that bad. Things were alright this morning when I used it and you know my stance on the importance of organizing one's make-up."
«Quinn, reality check!»
"That's the problem. You haven't put your things away afterwards. Your stuff is cluttered everywhere. You did your toenails, didn't you? I'm afraid to step on some bottle of nailpolish or whatever."
Quinn had to admit that Daria was right. She was running out of time this morning and had hightailed out of the bathroom to make it to school in time. And cleaning up was something with a low priority for her anyway. Even slight manual labour was not for her. However, her next answer was her first mistake.
"Then just pick it up and put it on my shelf."
"Quinn. It's your clutter. You're in charge of the bathroom anyway - it's an odd week after all."
Daria was clearly displeased. They shared the little chores their parents made them do and Daria did not mind whatever state her sister's room was in. It was her room, after all. Daria was no neat freak, but the current chaos in their shared bathroom was beyond tolerable. But what nagged her most was that Quinn tried to weasel out of her chores again - and she would end up doing them during her week as well.
"Ah, I don't feel like doing that right now. Just pick up whatever bugs you most and I'll do the proper cleaning during the weekend."
"Quinn, do you really expect me to believe that?"
Automatically and without any further thought Quinn made her patented 'I'm a cute helpless puppy and can't do a thing' move that triggered the protection instincts in males and the mother instinct in females.
"Pretty please?"
This allowed her to get out of almost any unpleasant job or situation. Then Quinn noticed the gleam in her sister's eyes who had now repidly entered the room.
«Oh shit! I forgot! And with her current state...»
Quinn's attempt to get out of the easy chair was stopped by Daria's hand on her shoulder, who shoved her back down gently, but insiting. Daria had come up behind the easy chair and was severely invading her private space, with just the backrest separating the siblings. Daria began to stroke Quinn's hair with her other hand, fixating Quinn's head to her tummy.
Quinn had suddenly a very good idea of the things to come...
In her memories Quinn could replay the scenes in a lucidity as if they had happened just yesterday. It had been a little over three years ago, and the hormone shots Daria was getting were working at full throttle. Quinn had been green with envy, watching Daria grow taller than her and developing a figure that she knew was tremendously exquisite. With Daria now being the cuter one of the sisters, Quinn had had to resort to all her charming abilities to stay in the center of attention, perfecting her 'I'm a cute puppy'-routine.
Quinn had known at that time that only the fact that Daria had no idea how to play her cuteness to her advantage gave herself the slightest chance to succeed. Of course Quinn had tried her moves on Daria as well, who had simply not been responsive. But Quinn had seen that as a challenge, and hence tried again and again and again, much to Daria's annoyance.
"Quinn, if you don't want me to treat you like you're my puppy you cut the crap. I'm not your servant." she had finally said. Obviously, Quinn had not heeded those words at that time.
Two days later, sitting on the sofa in front of the TV, Quinn had been trying to get Daria to get her a soda using a new variation of her routine. With a "My cute puppy!" Daria had been all over her in an instant, pinning her down to the sofa and grappling her.
Being taller and a tad heavier at that time, Daria's maneuver ensured that Quinn would not be going anywhere. The sudden, intimate bodily contact with her usually rather stand-offish sister had been scary right on its own. But the wicked grin on her close-up face had given Quinn the chills.
"I'll give you 'puppy', Quinn."
Daria said in a low voice before she started to lap on Quinn's cheek, still pinning her to the sofa. Even if Daria hadn't kept Quinn grappled, she would have been too grossed out to fight back.
"What are my girls doing?" Jake had asked, looking into the room to investigate the ruckus. Quinn immediately had gotten her hopes up that her daddy would make Daria stop, but she hadn't taken Daria's wit into account.
Her "We're playing puppies, daddy!" had successfully distracted Jake, who had left the room to get Helen with a "Look how cute, our daughters are bonding!", destroying Quinn's hope entirely.
After five minutes (and two photos) as chew toy of a very thorough Daria, Quinn had learned that being Daria's puppy would be a fate worse than dead. She had never tried to get Daria to do things for her that way again. Luckily, Daria made a difference whether Quinn did try to push additional work towards her sister, or just trying to get out of something in general. She just ignored her efforts in the latter cases, as Quinn found out over the years.
Seconds passed and Quinn could hear Daria breath and feel her warmth. She squirmed a little in her seat trying to get away, but did not but any real effort into. She wouldn't be getting anywhere unless Daria wanted her to and had no intention to encourage Daria any further.
Quinn kept her eyes closed, expecting a thorough licking. With lots of tongue.
Daria stood close to her sister and looked at her surprisingly uncomfortable face via one of the mirrors in Quinn's room. She spoke in a low voice to her sister.
"Quinn, grow up. You need to do your share of the chores."
Quinn felt her sister loosen her hold on her a little and opened her eyes, surprised that Daria did not repeat the performance of years ago. While her mind understood that Daria did have a point, her entire being resented the idea of additional responsibility.
"C'mon, Daria. This can wait 'til tomorrow."
"I don't care about the full hamper or a stained washbasin, but I'll be leaving early tomorrow. I want the nailpolish claymores gone by then."
"Daria, you're better at cleaning, anyway. Just shove them aside."
Quinn felt Daria's grip tighten again while she spoke.
"Yeah, right, and this is why you need more training."
"Da-ri-aaa! Not today." Quinn whined.
"Way today, Quinn."
Quinn decided to try another approach.
"Trade you for next week? Please?"
"Get real, Quinn. Fool me once..."
"C'mon, Daria, you know I m good for my word. Deal?"
"No, not when it come to chores."
"I am!"
"Not. Do you want the list sorted by alphabet orby date?"
"Please?"
"No. Only with payment in advance. You do your own chores this week."
"No-oo." Quinn dug her heels in and shot her sister a defiant look via the mirror - even in face of the possible consequences.
"Your call. You know what's going to happen should dad or mom see the pigsty."
"If they do." Quinn smirked. That was rather unlikely.
"Just don't expect any favors from me very soon if I am do to your share as well. Like getting rides from me once I got my licence."
Quinn's eyes widened a little. "You wouldn't!"
"Time will tell."
"Mom's not going to give me any rides once you've got your licence! You can't do that! That's, like, imprisonment!"
"Doing your chores is your call, giving you rides is my call. You may ask mom, or dad, or just take the bus."
Quinn pouted and could not come up with any reasonable retort. Her parents were going to be more than reluctant to give her rides once Daria was allowed to drive ("Daria needs to practice.", "No time, ask your sister!"), and Quinn loathed riding the bus.
Daria turned her sister's head and leaned down a little to be able to look directly into her eyes. "Listen Quinn. I'll go to bed in about an hour, and I'd prefer the bathroom to be safe by that time."
Quinn just nodded, unsure of Daria's next action. But to her relief, Daria released her and left her room without another word. Daria had no mischief on her mind at all. This time.
«You don't have any idea what impression you give when you act like this, do you?»
Quinn was smart enough to stall the attempt to extract information from her sister about said Upchuck to a later moment.
"...and that new woman had the gall to ask who I was. I was on TV every day, I'm running the Lawndale Business Women Association, and she didn't know me. Where does she life, on the dark side of the moon?"
"That's sad, Linda, but maybe she..."
"Tom, you don't know what it means to be in my position." Linda Griffin interrupted her husband. "Chris! Stop playing with the peas! Sandi, can't you take at least a little responsibility for your brother?"
"Yes, mother. Chris!"
Indeed, Sandi's younger brother stopped flipping peas across the table towards his brother Sam who wasn't all innocent either. Shielded by Sandi from his mother's gaze, Sam now refocussed his efforts on his sister.
"Sam. You too!"
"Sandi, why are you bossing your brother around?"
"Mother, he was flipping peas as well."
"Don't try to deceive me Sandi, I haven't seen a thing."
With his mother backing him, Sam played the situation to its fullest.
"You're mean!"
"Right, and before this goes any further: Boys, finish your meal. Including the vegitables! Sandi, since you're done start cleaning up the kitchen. That will give you some time to think about your actions. Your father will join you once we're done with the meal."
"But mother, I didn't..."
"Sandi, do as you're told to. And start by brewing an espresso. I need a coffee after the meal."
With a "Yes, mother." Sandi headed thoroughly beaten off to the kitchen. Whoever had irked her mother during her day had made Sandi's life a living hell. Sandi started the espresso («Yuckie poison! You asked for it, don't blame your wrinkles and crow feet on me!») and lookedfor the rubber gloves to protect her carefully manicured hands from the chemical warfare in the kitchen.
«At least you have your own Morgendoffer making your life difficult, old hag.»
Quinn carefully opened the door to her sister's weird room a bit. She spotted Daria sitting at her desk, writing, but Daria had already noticed the door and was turning around.
"Daria?"
"Yes, Quinn?"
Sweet talking would not do any good. And Quinn hadn't done the bathroom yet. There was no turning back anymore.
"Uhm, do you know anything about a guy, a sophomore, red hair and about that size?"
Her sister asking about a boy was always suspicious, but once she had matched the description to a person she knew no hormones whatsoever were involved.
"Guess so. There's one guy I share several classes with who fits that description."
"Ah, and what's your impression of him?"
Now Daria got really suspicious. "He breathes."
"Da-ri-aa..." Quinn rolled her eyes.
"Hasn't peed on my leg."
"Eww. EWWWW Daria, don't even think about that!" Quinn shuddered, but more than Daria had her suspected to. Something was off.
"Sooo, what's your interest in him? And what is my incentive to tell you, sis?"
"Well, I've heard some rumors about him..."
"And I've heard some rumors about you and you've heard some rumors about me. So what?"
"More like, facts. At least they're consistent."
"Get to the point, please."
It was time for Quinn to play quid pro quo with her sister.
"They say he's slimy. The school perv."
Daria chuckled, but now understood what was worrying Quinn.
"School perv? Him? I haven't seen him not looking haunted."
"You sure?"
"From what I've seen in class he seems smart but shy. Doesn't say a thing about the amount of granny porn he might stack at home." Daria grinned.
"EWWW. Daria, you're soooo gross."
"By the way, I haven't seen your porn during the move. Where did you hide your collection?" Daria asked in order to make her sister leave. She had more writing to be done. The 'self-esteem' class was seriously gnawing at her writing time.
Quinn's only reply to her sister's teasing was just a stuck out tongue, but she didn't leave.
"What else, Quinn?" Daria asked with a slightly annoyed tone in her voice.
"You've heard rumors about me? What kind?"
"The usual pointless rumor kind." was Daria's simple, almost rude answer. She knew Quinn was by no means easy. Unfortunately, she was currently not easy to get rid of as well.
Daria's tone told Quinn that she wouldn't get any further information from her sister. But she also knew that she didn't need any further information. If those rumors could form a real problem in any way, Daria would not hold them to herself.
Quinn shortly considered to share the rumors she had heard about Daria with her sister. But they weren't really that interesting. They mostly exposed that some people had a really vivid imagination. Quinn didn't dare to think about the things that those people might be thinking without voicing them.
"Quinn, are we done here? Don't you have any homework to do? Or a bathroom to clean? I'd like get back to my writing."
Daria's voice shook Quinn out of her musings.
"Ah, sorry, yes, that's it. Night Daria."
Quinn heard Daria's "Good night." just before she closed the door, but her mind was busy with the sparse information Daria had provided. If they had been talking about the same person, the information did not match up at all. Something was odd, but at least Daria did not see any problem.
"...so I think I'll be able to free up Friday night after eight. But I need to be back home by nine thirty. Mom and Dad are attending some conference Saturday and need me to take care of Evan. That means getting up by 6."
"Crap! Damn! And I can't keep you company, I'm working double shift all Saturday and there's no chance anyone'll switch with me!"
"Ah, crap. But a good idea Mack, that would have been lovely. Even with Evan and Rachel around."
"A full day ... we're really out of luck right now."
"Yeah, tell me about it." Jodie sighed into the telephone, generating an interruption in the conversation between her and Michael. Michael was the next to speak, and decided to bring up a topic he had successfully avoided so far. But it was necessary to bring it up.
"Jodie, I, ... there's something I need to ask..." Mack drew a breath. "Why did you snap at me today? About Daria?"
"Oh. Sorry. That wasn't about you. It's just..."
"I know, Jodie, but... what happened between the two of you? It's just not like you to lash out at someone that way. She didn't do anything to you, did she?"
"Ah, no, she didn't. At least not directly or on purpose."
"But?" Mack's uneasiness was palpable.
"Look, I was in the office last week and happened to get a glance at her student record. Flawless. As in 4.0 GPA. You know what that means?"
"She's smart, but I got that already from class."
"That. And if I'm to be the valedictorian - as my parents expect me to - I'll now have to pay even more attention to my school work. She's real competition."
"C'mon, with your extra curriculars and a flawless disciplinary record there can't be any competition. Or are you planning to take a walk on the wild side?" Mack asked, relieved and with a slightly suggestive tone in his voice. He decided not to mention that he was expecting her to show up to the open gym the next morning.
"Hee, I really wish I could afford that. No, her record is as flawless as mine. I couldn't believe that myself, but it's a fact."
Mack was a little surprised at that answer and filed the information away for later use. Jodie's word was good beyond doubt.
"So her being a proper student causes problems."
"Yes. For me it does."
"That's plain sick."
Jodie's immediate answer was just a sigh.
"Look Mack, there's nothing we can do about that right now. I'll try not to let it get to me too much, but..."
"That's the best we can do right now. I have to end, Jodie. You know I've got to get up an hour early tomorrow. Ignore this for now and have a good night."
"Good night, Mack. Love you."
"Love you too." «Even if you hardly give me any opportunity to act on it.»
