Jane started the long trip north at noon on Sunday, leaving Daria with a week and a month left in Lawndale. Daria watched her friend drive away, and wondered if they'd ever both be back in the old town.

Eight different students demanded Daria's attention by that point, her once lackadaisical schedule suddenly quite busy. Though no one needed as much help as Kevin she still spent time making lesson plans specific to their needs. Tedious, it kept her mind working on something other than her own private anxieties.

She didn't know how well she really taught any of them. Some already basically understood the material and only needed a bit of guidance; they'd have likely earned decent grades without her help. Others struggled with the very concepts and she'd drive herself half-mad trying to explain.

The latter category didn't always benefit from her help. The one known as Sebastian (or more specifically, his parents) hired her to help him get a passing grade in physics. He fired her after he failed the test, relaying his displeasure through a clumsy and obscenity-laden message left on the Morgendorffer answering machine.

She did try. Just like she'd done when writing Patricia's papers, Daria fulfilled her end of the bargain. She tried to understand the more recalcitrant students, asking them questions about what they liked and framing the lesson to fit those interests. Most of them still stumbled when it came time for exams, making her wonder how much she'd really be able to help Kevin. She'd reduced her rates to $15 an hour in a state of such doubt.

Kevin called in to cancel the first Friday lesson of May, citing "family stuff" and sounding despondent. She didn't press him for more information. He'd taken the history test on Tuesday, so she suspected she already knew the real reason.

Daria took advantage of the rare free afternoon to hide away in the library until closing, reading choice selections from The Portrait of a Lady, Henry James' prose as familiar as an old friend.

Saturday took her to the home of one Jenna Lyndon, a smart and math-oriented student who only found difficulty in trying to understand Mr. O'Neill's muddied interpretation of Shakespeare's King Lear. Jenna probably didn't need the help, but her money (rather, her parents' money) always felt earned.

A flash of bright yellow caught Daria's attention as she drove past the high school's football field on the way home. She took a quick side-glance and saw Kevin out on the field, facing the endzone with his right arm prepped for another winning throw, a bunch of footballs already scattered on the grass past the goal. His sheer focus and single-minded dedication at that moment made the entire scene picture perfect for some motivational poster.

Unless you knew the context.

Taking a left turn into the parking lot, Daria exited the car and walked across the field, not sure what to say. She came to a stop at the bleachers and sat down just as a spinning football soared over the goal line.

Kevin didn't take any notice, instead reaching into the all but empty yellow duffel bag at his feet and drawing out yet another football. He stepped back, judged the distance for a few long moments, and threw again. The ball spun high through the air, recalling his old glories for one golden moment before it hit the grass.

Kevin let his arms hang loose and walked towards the bleachers.

"Hey, Daria," he said, without looking at her.

"Hey."

He rested on the bottom bench and gazed out onto the road, looking almost thoughtful.

"I'm guessing the history test didn't go so well," she finally said.

"Mr. D gave me a D+. Which I thought was pretty good, but then he told me that I'd still need to ace the final in order to pass."

"What did you do on the test? I could take a look at it."

"Ah, I don't have it with me. It's just that, after what you taught me, I figured I'd explain my story. You know, the one with Coach Gibson, and how we partied even though he told us not to? It's funny. Mr. D actually said I did a good job explaining stuff in the beginning, but he didn't like me talking about the party after the Renson game for two pages."

"The test's about history, Kevin, not your personal life." She'd have once rolled her eyes at his explanation. This time, it simply added another layer of shared disappointment to the proceedings.

"Huh, he said the same thing."

"Sorry. I guess I misled you."

"It's better than the last grade I got. I'll probably have to do another year here. Practice makes perfect, you know? God, I'm gonna be like 20 when I graduate." He shook his head.

"College is pretty cool, huh?" he asked, brightening up. "Like I saw this documentary once about how college kids go to frat parties all the time, and it's like way bigger and better than what you see here! Maybe I can still see that. You must have been having fun, until your brain fever. Sorry about that, by the way."

"Actually, I hate college."

"Really? But isn't it like, where smart people can also party?" he asked.

"Do you really ever imagine me partying?"

"I guess not." Kevin's brow furrowed. "So what do you do? You can't study all the time."

"Studying is the only time I do anything. Outside of that, it's nothing," she admitted.

"That sucks."

"I never thought I'd say this, but I miss high school."

"Yeah, I miss it too. Well, I'm still in it, but I miss the old days. Back then everyone wanted to be my friend, even people like you! We had some pretty good times together, right?"

"Um, sure. We sure did," Daria said, not making any real attempt to sound convincing.

"I guess those days aren't coming back though."

"No. They aren't."

Daria thought back to the handful of football games she'd actually attended, when what seemed like the entire town flocked to the field bright under the floodlights. The memory of the noise and the packed bodies only gave her a headache—she missed high school, but she hadn't liked it either.

"Kevin, how did you learn how to play football?"

"Huh? Oh, my dad taught me. We played all the time when I was a kid."

"The rules are pretty complicated."

"No they aren't! Come on, you can't tell me you don't know the rules? Everyone knows them," he said, sounding almost insistent.

"I know the rules, but I wouldn't call them simple. How did you learn them?"

"A lot of practice. When you're out on the field like that, you learn pretty fast, I guess."

"If you know the rules to football, why not facts about history?" she asked.

"Yeah, but you have to read stuff and write them down. Believe me, Daria, when you see a two-hundred pound linebacker running towards you, you know what's going on pretty quick!"

"I can see how that would be the case," she said, the beginnings of an idea forming in her mind. "Do you still want me to tutor you? I understand if you don't."

"I guess I'll keep going. It's more practice."

"I won't charge you."

"Come on, Daria, it's my mom's money."

"She can pay me if you pass your classes. I'll teach for free until then. But don't tell anyone else about this arrangement."

"Sure! I still don't get why you want to teach for free."

"Maybe I just want to see someone learn," she said.

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it. See you on Wednesday."

"Yeah, see you."