Life always comes to a bad end. - Marcel Aymé
~lalaLAlala~
It was picture day. The day that students of the school were paraded in front of a camera, and their current physical appearance was recorded so that it could be compared to the pictures received the previous year.
Quinn was naturally enthusiastic, and had put even more effort than usual into her appearance that morning before school.
Daria, on the other hand, merely made sure there was nothing stuck in her teeth (not that she planned on smiling anyway).
"So, what background are you going to pick?" Jane asked. "I'm thinking the Vegas Strip."
"Matt grey or mottled blue have always worked for me in the past," Daria answered.
Jane narrowed her eyes at her friend. "You're not even going to smile for the camera, are you?"
"Does that even need to be answered?" Daria countered.
Jane sighed. "Daria, you are a part of the family I have chosen for myself," she informed her friend. "This family also includes Trent and Jesse. That's it. You, me, and those two idiots. I want a picture of you that I can build a mad, artistic frame for and keep in my room when you go off to Yale or Harvard or whatever, and I'm stuck here attending the Lawndale State University."
"We've got a couple more years for you to get that picture then," Daria said flatly, then frowned at her friend. "And you're way too good to settle for Lawndale State," she added firmly.
Jane smiled softly. "Thanks Daria," she said, genuinely touched by her friend's vehemence at her artistic skill.
"I'm going to go with matt grey," Daria decided shortly thereafter.
Jane rolled her eyes, but smirked at her friend. She did have pictures of Daria smiling, but her friend didn't know about them, and she wanted to keep it that way. So, unfortunately, she couldn't really put them on display. As it was, she was working on painting the portrait of her brother and best friend from those photos in another part of the house. It was tough too, because she wasn't letting herself be even the slightest bit abstract or interpretive with that piece. Well, not for Daria and Trent anyway. The patched grey couch in their living room may or may not yet be replaced. She hadn't painted it in yet, so there was room for interpretation to happen yet. She was just focusing on getting the key subjects of her painting perfect.
"I'm still thinking Vegas," Jane stated plainly. "And even if you don't smile, I want a couple of the smaller-sized prints."
"Why?"
"One for me to stick in that mad-artistic frame I mentioned already," Jane said with a smirk.
Daria allowed one corner of her own mouth to tilt up in amusement.
"And the other is for Trent to stick in his wallet," Jane finished.
"What?"
"Yup," Jane said with a fierce (and teasing-but-definitely-not-joking) expression on her face. "Trent wants a wallet-sized of each of us. He's been keeping a copy of my picture in there for years, damned if I know why -"
(Trent used those pictures as a reminder to himself why he couldn't spend his money so frivolously, and just buy any damn thing he wanted.)
"- but he does," Jane said. "And now, for reasons I dare not tempt fate by guessing at, Trent wants your picture for his wallet as well."
(Trent wanted a solid reminder that there was someone out there who believed in him, his dream, and even in his ability to make his dream a reality. Not even Janey did that, supportive though she was.)
"I'm still not going to smile for the camera, Lane," Daria informed her friend.
"Of course you're not," Jane agreed.
~lalaLAlala~
Daria was mildly disturbed to see a large banner hanging across the frontage of her school when she arrived there on Monday. A banner with a picture of a football at one end, and flag at the other, and, all in capitals was written "Lawndale High Welcomes Back Tommy Sherman". As she was still, comparatively speaking, new to Lawndale, she was going to have to talk to Jane. Find out if she'd be able to get away with the usual routine, or if she was going to feel the need, for the first time since they'd left Highland, to actually skip school.
"He was quarter-back three years ago when the school won the state championship," Jane explained easily. "Always wanted to score the touchdowns by himself, but couldn't help waving to the crowds, which led to him always crashing into the goal post. Broke his own nose twice."
"I am in awe of this guy's mental capacity already," Daria said with flat, dry sarcasm.
"I know," Jane agreed. "Then in the play-off the week before the state championship, he scored the winning touchdown, but ran into the goal post so hard that he broke his helmet. He was unconscious for six days. Miraculously, he woke up in time for the state championship feeling great. He then proceeded to lead the team to victory."
"Stirring," Daria said unhappily.
"Isn't it?" Jane agreed. "So now the school's bought one of those new goal posts that break apart, rather than split your skull, and they're naming it after good ol' Tommy Sherman. Oh, and here comes the lucky student council member who will do the honours," she added, spotting Jodie walking up to them.
"Gimme a break," she requested flatly. "Daria, I can't get passed the introduction to this speech," she said. "Can I read it to you?"
"Does that mean I don't have to listen to it later?" Daria asked, but gestured for the girl to pull up some lawn and go ahead.
"Good afternoon students, faculty, and distinguished alumni of Lawndale High," Jodie read off her clip-board. "As a representative of your student council," she then lowered the clip-board and looked desperately at Daria. "Any ideas?" she asked.
"It is my privilege today," Daria offered. "Or solemn duty, if you're not feeling particularly privileged."
Jodie nodded. "Thanks for not being sarcastic about this Daria," she said as she made note – solemn duty. "I already hate that I have to do this enough."
"Why give the speech at all?" Jane asked.
"I'm a member of the student council, and as such, I have responsibilities. Today, those responsibilities include kissing the butt of some jock who's getting a goal post named after him," Jodie answered with a scowl.
"Sympathies," Daria said with a nod. "Are you just supposed to welcome the jock, or can you get away with just presenting the goal post?"
"Ms Li is the one actually presenting the goal post," Mack supplied as he joined them. "Hey," he greeted Jodie. "How's the speech coming?" he asked, all sympathy for her plight.
Jodie passed it over.
"Well, you're further than you were," he offered. "That's good, right?"
Jodie sighed unhappily and took back her clip-board.
Mac sighed too, and sat down on the grass next to his girlfriend. "I know you don't want to hear it," he said. "But your best source for butt-kissing material for the speech may actually be Kevin."
Jodie glared at her boyfriend. "You're right," she said. "I don't want to hear it."
"Speaking as someone who just got the story five minutes ago," Daria offered. "I think you could probably talk about single-minded dedication to his chosen calling, that being football, if even a split skull didn't keep him from playing."
"Thank you so much Daria!" Jodie said brightly.
"Yeah," Mack agreed. "That's really good. It even gives a vaguely positive light to the fact that the guy skipped class as often as he did, so he could get in more practice."
"Single-minded dedication," Jodie repeated with a smirk and a nod as she scribbled across her clip-board. "Oh yes, I can work with that."
"You're welcome," Daria said plainly. "So, do I get out of having to listen to the speech later?"
"And miss picking out all the veiled insults Jodie's going to be working into it now?" Jane asked incredulously.
"I can't have too many," Jodie countered. "Ms Li will be right there, and she's bound to notice."
"Ooh, good point," Jane agreed.
~lalaLAlala~
Daria frowned at the man who was leaning on her locker like he owned the entire hallway.
"Excuse me," she said.
"You're kidding right?" the man asked with a smirk. "You think I'm gonna talk to you?" Then he turned to Jane, who was at Daria's side. "You, maybe. Like, four hours into a kegger!" he said with a laugh.
"Frankly, I'd rather you didn't talk to me," Daria answered flatly. "Just get the hell off my locker."
"Do you know who I am?" the guy asked, though he did push himself off the lockers. "Tommy Sherman?"
"I know the whole school it turning itself inside out over some football player," Daria started. "And I know I've seen you either proposition or insult just about everyone you've come across, so my guess is: you're the football player guy."
With satisfaction, Daria took in the surprised expression he was wearing.
"Congratulations, you must have worked very hard to become such a colossal jerk so quickly," she added, and brushed passed him. "Move," she instructed, and opened her locker.
The man was foolish enough to move in such a way that his nose connected with the locker door as Daria opened it.
Having experienced at least two broken noses already, Tommy Sherman only grunted and stepped back, a hand coming up to his nose.
"You know what I'm gonna do now?" he demanded. "I'm gonna go out onto the football field and check out my new goal post. I'm gonna read the plaque and think about all the people who admire me. But you wouldn't know anything about that," he said with as much of a sneer as he could manage around a bloody nose. "You're one of those 'Misery Chicks', always moping about what a cruel world it is, making a big deal about it so that people won't notice you're such a loser," he declared, and then marched off.
"I don't think he likes you," Jane observed to Daria with a smile.
"I could honestly care less," Daria answered.
"I wonder if he'll be able to get the blood off his shirt before the ceremony," Jane commented with a smirk.
"If we're lucky, I'll have broken his nose a third time, and he won't get the blood out," Daria agreed with a smile.
The sound of a crash echoed out, followed by Kevin yelling that Tommy Sherman was dead.
"Jane, tell me honestly, would it in bad taste for me to say 'good riddance'?"
"Very bad."
"Then, would it be in bad taste for me to skip out the rest of the day?" Daria asked.
"Nah, that you can get away with," Jane answered. "Think I'll do the same thing myself. Go home, change, go for a run."
Daria nodded. "I need a guitar and my notebooks."
"Plural? Wow. Well, then go grab them and your twelve-string and come over to my place. I'll be out running, but I'm sure you can hang out with Trent," Jane offered.
"Thanks," Daria said with an appreciative nod.
The just had to get through a speech by Ms Li in the auditorium before they could go, and after Jane escaped, Daria had to get through dealing with Kevin, Brittany and Mr O'Neill before she could go too.
Actually, dealing with Brittany wasn't so bad as the other two. The ditzy blonde cheerleader actually did have a few functioning brain cells between her pigtails, she just didn't use them in the classroom much.
Daria was very sick of people saying 'it really makes you think' to her though. Even if only three people had said it – four when she got home and Quinn asked to talk to her as well. She was also sick of people saying that she was essentially 'used to' being depressed. She wasn't. She actually had a very upbeat attitude, for a cynic.
~lalaLAlala~
"Hey Daria," Trent greeted when he answered the door.
"Hey Trent," Daria answered.
"Janey went running," he said.
"I know," she answered. "She told me she would."
"But you came over anyway?" Trent asked, just a little confused.
"I'd honestly rather hang out in your back yard with my guitar and notebook than just about anywhere else right now," Daria admitted. "I've been accosted for emotional support by the current QB, the head cheerleader, O'Neill, and my sister. If I'd stayed at home, Helen would ask how I was coping, and if I stay in the public sight, I can only imagine how many more people are going to come to me wanting to talk about Tommy Sherman. I feel like I should get a couch."
Trent nodded in understanding, and stepped aside. "Come on in," he offered.
"Thanks Trent."
"It's a bit scary," Trent admitted as he closed the door behind her. "I mean... that someone my age is dead."
Daria blinked. Oh yeah. "Jane said you knew him," she recalled
Trent shrugged. "Had a few classes together," he allowed, and started walking deeper into the house. A vague wave indicated for Daria to follow, which she did. "Didn't see him much though. Didn't show up to often."
Daria smirked, unable to resist the dig. "Not like you, huh?" she asked.
Trent chuckled. "I only ever regularly missed first period," he defended himself with a wry smile and raised hands. "Still... the freak accident... pretty weird."
"Would you say... it really makes you think?" Daria asked cautiously.
"No," Trent answered, flatly and without hesitation.
Some of the tension Daria had been carrying leached out then. "Thank you for that Trent," she said appreciatively.
"You're welcome? Well, here we go," Trent declared as he opened another door, this one leading out to the back yard. "The old gazebo. Get yourself comfortable, I'll grab us a couple of sodas from the fridge, and bring out my guitar and notebook, and we can jam for a while."
Daria smiled up at the lanky young man who was rapidly leaving the category of best friend's brother and moving into being a damn good friend in his own right. "Thanks Trent."
"Got a favourite flavour?" Trent asked.
"I'd go for lemonade, if you've got it, but I don't really care all that much," Daria admitted.
"Think we've got cola and ginger beer, actually," Trent said thoughtfully.
"Then I'll have whatever's cold," Daria deferred.
Trent nodded. "Be right back," he promised.