Disclaimer, Daria and all characters created by Glenn Eichler for the MTV series are the property of MTV. This story belongs to no one. Anyone who wishes to increase, edit, or embellish this story is welcome to do so, as long as it is not for profit.

We only hurt the ones we love.

Chapter 13:

I had seen the boy – Jane had once been best friends with – in the hallways between classes and I already knew these basic facts: he was Captain of the football team, generally well liked and respected. Also, according to Quinn, Mack and Jodie were considered the most popular and admired couple at school. That had puzzled me, since – even though Jodie and Mack shared the same lunch period – the few times Jodie had approached me had always been during lunch and always alone. Now, with Jane's revelation supplying the crucial missing piece, I understood. Ms. Landon had spun quite the little web of deception and intrigue: one worthy of Machiavelli, himself. As I considered this, a couple of verses from Proverbs – I'd recently read – came to mind: 'What the wicked fears will come about, but the longing of the righteous will be granted. When the storm ends, the wicked vanish, but the righteous person is forever firm.' As long as we kept ourselves above the machinations I had faith that Ms. Landon would eventually end up exposed, trapped in her own web. Abandoning my musings, the sight of Jane sitting beside me, nervously rubbing her hands against her thighs made me realize that I'd probably been quiet a bit too long.

"Jane, thank you for telling me about you, Mack and Jodie."

"De nada, Amiga." That said, Jane stood, walked across the room to the roll-away bed, and proceeded to fold her discarded clothing. Watching as Jane folded her red overshirt reminded me of a question I'd been meaning to ask.

"Jane?"

"Yeah?" Jane answered absently as she placed the now folded overshirt into her duffel bag.

"Why do you dress the way you do?" The quirky little face Jane made in response to my question, eyebrows just slightly peaked and her lips raised up into something not quite a smile but different than her customary smirk, gave the impression that she'd understood the question perfectly; nevertheless, an impish playfulness conveyed in her eyes stated clearly she wasn't ready – just yet – to take the bait.

"I'm not sure what you're asking me, Daria?"

"Well, your outer clothing seems to be purposefully..." Here I found myself at loss for words appropriate to describe Jane's style of clothing. Masculine? No. Androgynous? Not really. Unfeminine? Possibly, but, again, not really. Finally my mind grabbed the most neutral term accessible and I feebly ended my statement as a question. "non-gender specific?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Now the playfulness in Jane's eyes was replaced by sheer, unadulterated glee, she was enjoying pulling this out of me.

"Okay, Lane, stop playing with me. You know what I'm asking. You intentionally dress outwardly in a gender-neutral manner; however, underneath your choices in undergarments are not just, decidedly, feminine they're provocatively feminine... what's the deal?"

"Oh, is that all. It's simple really, I dress like this to keep the mindless, hormone-driven hordes at bay. That way when a boy comes up to me it's because he's taken the time to learn a little bit about me first. That means he's not just interested but – most probably – relatively intelligent. The underwear is the feminine inside that's the real me. You know, like the old saying: don't judge a book by it's cover."

"Okay, I think I get what you're doing. Something similar to why I keep my glasses."

"Daria, again with all due respect, you may think that; but it's not the same thing. My clothing is a filter. Your glasses are a barrier."

"Jane, that's not true. I've worn this style of glasses since I was three years old. Anybody interested in who I am inside has seen past them."

"Honestly, those glasses may have been appropriate for a three year old but on a nearly sixteen year old girl they're, definitely, put-offish... Daria, they're basically screaming keep the hell away from me."

"Jane, sorry, but that's your opinion, an opinion – by the way – I don't happen to agree with." the perfunctory tone my voice had taken on surprised Jane, while her words hadn't angered me they had, nonetheless, hurt a little.

"Look, I'm never going to convince you with words, even though I know I'm right, but if you'll indulge me I can prove my point to you."

"Oh, really." I said incredulously. "How might that be possible?"

Jane reached into her duffel bag and removed her sketch pad. Holding it in front of her she stated matter-of-factly "How else? By drawing you." The look on Jane's face was easily readable... resistance was futile. After taking several minutes to properly pose me, with my body at a three-quarter alignment but with my face fully aligned with her position, Jane carefully draped my braid over my left shoulder and made fine adjustments to the position of my head before sitting cross legged on the roll-away bed. With artist's pencil in her right hand and sketch pad opened on her lap Jane asked me to stay still as long as possible and commenced drawing. Ten minutes into the sitting Jane said she had gotten the basics down and I could move a bit if I was stiff but to try and keep the basic pose. Actually, the pose was not uncomfortable and the shuushing sounds of Jane's pencil as it skittered, like skis across crusted snow, against the paper was unexpectedly relaxing. Also watching Jane's handling of the pencil was in itself captivating, gripped at the finger tips, set between fingers, flat to the paper or held at various angles I'd never believed a pencil could be used effectively in such various ways.

Twenty minutes later, Jane set the pencil down and, holding the sketchpad close to her chest, slowly stood stretching her legs and back to ease the stiffness that had taken hold of her.

"Okay, do me a favor and go look at yourself in the mirror." I walked over to the mirror on the closet door and looked at my reflection as Jane had requested.

"Now, try and smile as you did while you were posing." I could sense Jane coming a few steps closer to me while she was speaking. I took a moment and reset my face to the earlier pose and considered my reflection.

"Good. That's it exactly." Jane came up to my side and held her sketch up next to the mirror and level with my reflection. "What do you think?"

What did I think? I was too stunned to think. Before me was my likeness in graphite on paper perfect in every detail. No – as I looked back and forth between the drawing and the mirror – it was more than a perfect likeness, for no matter how hard I tried to adjust my expression, it was kinder, softer, more inviting than my reflection. The only difference between the drawing and my reflection were the glasses, somehow, the narrower, oval upper with half hexagon lower framed glasses in the drawing effected an entirely new persona... Jane had been right.

"So, Daria, do you like the look?"

"Yes..." I hesitated, unable to find words, adequate, to express the image, an image I was still trying to wrap my head around, but feeling – nonetheless – compelled to answer, before I could continue, however, a knock on my bedroom door broke my reverie.

"Daria, can I come in?" Quinn said after knocking then, without waiting for an answer, she opened the door slightly and stuck her head into the room. "I was about to take a shower and wanted to know if you or Jane needed to use the bathroom first?" Seeing me at the mirror with Jane by my side holding her sketch pad, Quinn stepped into my room and, with a curious look on her face, made her way over to where we were standing. "What are you two doing?" When Quinn saw Jane's drawing she stopped and said in a hushed, breathless voice "My God, Jane, it's amazing" then holding her hands out tentatively towards Jane "could I please? I'd like to take a closer look."

Shrugging her shoulders casually as she handed her sketch pad to Quinn, Jane said "Sure Quinn, knock yourself out. Just try and hold it by the edges. Okay?"

Carefully taking the pad from Jane, Quinn stared for several moments at the drawing. "Jane, it's so lifelike it's incredible but why the different glasses?"

"Trying to prove a point to Daria. She said her glasses prevented idiots from bothering her and I said they were keeping everyone away. She wasn't convinced, so I drew that to show how different glasses would change peoples' perceptions."

"That's not what I said, Jane. I said that anybody interested in who I am inside would see past them.

You were right, though, your drawing clearly proves my glasses are at odds with who I am inside."

"So, Daria, does this mean you're going to get new glasses?"

"I don't know, Quinn. The drawing is persuasive, but I'm not certain if I'm ready to change my look quite yet."

"Oh come on, Daria" Quinn whined, petulantly "Seeing how great you look in this drawing and continuing to wear those..." Quinn stopped to point at my glasses with a look of abject contempt on her face. "...is just wrong!" After a moment, Quinn's demeanor changed "I know what to do" she said before bolting from us with Jane's drawing still in her hands. Just before reaching the hallway, Quinn yelled "I'm showing this to Mom." and she was gone.

"What just happened?" Jane said after seeing the look of acquiescence in my eyes.

"What happened? Well, it appears, that's game, set and match, Lane. Once my Mom sees the drawing she'll agree with Quinn. Seems I'm destined for new glasses, whether I want them or not."

"Jeez, Daria, I'm sorry, that's not what I wanted to happen... that just sucks." Genuinely worried over the chain of events her drawing was initiating.

"Well, it would, Jane, except for one small detail." I said with a small contented smile growing on my face.

"And what, pray tell, would that small detail be?" Jane asked still worried for me.

"That would be the fact that – now that the initial shock of seeing the drawing has worn off and I've had a moment to think, clearly, about it – I think I really like myself in the glasses you've drawn. I hope this doesn't sound vain, but I like the effect."

"Oh, yeah, Daria, pure, unadulterated narcissism if I've ever heard it." Jane answered with a chuckle. I found myself giggling, as well, at the irony loaded into Jane's retort. "So, you're good with the whole getting new glasses thing?" Jane asked sounding much relieved.

"Yes. I'm ready, just don't say anything. Let Mom and Quinn think they need to convince me"

"Why?" Jane said now very confused.

"It's complicated, Jane, but – basically – we need moments like this to bond as a family. My allowing them to convince me shows that I'm willing to trust their opinions. If I hadn't run away in the first place, we'd have had nine years to accomplish this sort of bonding naturally; now I need to appear to acquiesce to make up for the lost time. It may be a bit devious, but in the end everyone's happy and we grow together as a family. Jane, I love them and I think they know that, what I need for them to know is that I trust them, too."

"Whoa, that's deep... really deep. Trust. Don't I know the importance of that little word. What ever you need me to do consider it done, Amiga."

"Thank you, Jane. I hear Mom and Quinn coming so just play along, okay?"

Jane nodded her agreement just as Mom entered my room followed by Quinn. I listened as they worked to persuade me to get new glasses and, offering a few mock protests on my part, waited for the right moment to concede. Finally, Mom asked:

"Daria, why do you insist on hiding yourself away from people?"

"I don't believe I'm doing that. But I trust you two only have my best interests at heart so I'm open to at least looking for new glasses. No promises, but if I see something better, then we'll see... okay?"

Surprised by my concession, but not wanting to lose their momentum, Mom said quickly "How about Saturday morning?"

"If you insist. Can Jane come too?"

"Of course." then turning to Jane "This is so artfully done, Jane. You, truly, possess a rare talent. With your permission, may I scan a copy to my computer?"

"I'd like that, Mrs. Morgendorffer. I'm always happy when people appreciate my work. Do you mind if Daria and I come with you, I'm curious how well pencil on paper will stand up to being scanned."

"Of course, Daria's Father and I have a small home office set up in the guest bedroom, follow me and I'll scan it right now."

Ten minutes later I was looking at the final scan of Jane's drawing on Mom's Computer. It had taken a bit of trial and error until, after several attempts at various resolutions as well as attempts using black-and-white, color and eventually gray-scale scans, Jane – as always the perfectionist when it came to her art – was, finally, satisfied with the results of the scan done at 300 DPI in gray-scale mode. While marveling at the detail preserved in the scanned image a thought occurred to me: I'd made a promise to send photos to the folks in Idaho, Jane had produced such an uncanny likeness, I was sure they would appreciate it.

"Mom, do you think we could Email a copy to the Davidson's?"

"Sweetie, what a wonderful thought, I'm certain they'll be thrilled. Do you know their Email address?"

"Yes, Mr. Davidson is a structural engineer for the Idaho department of transportation so his Email address is easy to remember: george_davidson .gov"

"Okay, just give me a moment to open up outlook, enter their Email address and attach the scan of Jane's drawing..." after Mom had set up the Email "...good, the file is less than 1 MB so it shouldn't take very long to send or receive. Daria, why don't you sit down and write a short message to them." Doing as Mom suggested I sat down and typed out a couple of paragraphs before clicking the send button to launch the message into hyperspace.

"Okay, Mom, Email's sent. Thanks." I said as I was standing up. As Mom took the seat I'd just vacated – clicking the mouse first closing her Email and then shutting down the computer – she said, as much to herself as to anyone within earshot, "Got to remember to stop tomorrow afternoon and pick up some extra-heavy bond paper and a frame."

"Jane?" I asked as I stepped away from the desk "Quinn had said she wanted to take a shower, did you need to use the bathroom first?"

"No, I'm good for now."

"Quinn" I said turning to where my Sister had been observing from the doorway "to answer your earlier question, Jane and I are good for now, the bathroom is all yours."

"Good, a quick shower is just the break I need before tackling the rest of my homework."

"Speaking of homework, Jane, didn't you say you wanted my help with your math homework?"

"Oh yeah, Math and I are rarely on speaking terms... the homework's from Wednesday, but your Mom made it very clear to me earlier that I'd better have all assignments done and ready for tomorrow."

"That's right, Jane" Mom said as she stood up "You'd better believe that, by the time we're finished tomorrow, you'll not only be allowed to turn in all completed assignments: You'll be given time to complete any assignments or tests you might have missed while out of school."

That said we all headed out of the room, Quinn to go shower, Jane and I back to my room and Mom back downstairs to whatever she'd been doing. Forty-five minutes later Jane's homework was finished. Though Jane would never find math easy, I was confident that she'd grasped the concept being taught well enough to test competently on the material. I was just returned from brushing my teeth to find Jane inspecting my collection of compact discs.

"Damn Morgendorffer, this is quite a collection... I'm impressed." Then after a beat, Jane continued "Mind telling me what's on them? I've never heard of any of these people."

"Classical mostly. I was planning to call Idaho in a few minutes, but afterward, if you're interested, I'd be happy to play something."

"Possibly, how long do you think the call will take?"

"Usually only ten to fifteen minutes, I call them every night around this time to talk about the events of the day."

"Really? Everyday? Well, tell you what, why don't you make your call and I'll go brush my teeth and wash up."

"Sounds good to me." By now I was sitting on my bed, having just retrieved the cell phone from my night stand, preparing to make my call as Jane, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand and bath towel draped over a shoulder headed out. Listening, first to the dial tone then – after keying in the numbers – to the sound of their phone ringing, waiting for someone to pick up the phone I wondered if they'd had an opportunity to look at the drawing. the excited edge to Mom's voice as she answered "Hello, Daria" put an end to my wondering, as I'd hoped, Dad – as was his daily habit – had checked his Email upon arriving home from work.

"Hi, Mom. I assume from the tone of your voice you've seen the drawing."

"Yes, your Father just printed a copy and I'm looking at it now as we speak. I am curious, though, as to why you never mentioned that you'd gotten new glasses."

"Well, that's because I haven't... yet."

After a lingering silence from the other end of the line, in a perplexed voice, Mom replied "I don't understand?"

"You remember me mentioning my friend, Jane? We were discussing clothing choices and how it effects peoples' perceptions. Jane felt that my glasses sent a negative message and sketched the drawing to prove her point. After looking at my self in a mirror and comparing it to the drawing, I was forced to agree with her; so Saturday I'm off to find new glasses."

"Of course I remember, you mention her every time we speak. Daria, I hope you realize how blessed you are to have been guided to such an important friendship so soon after arriving in Lawndale."

"Trust me, Mom, I Know. If Jane's opinion wasn't so important to me, I wouldn't have decided to get new glasses."

"Yes, the drawing is most convincing... not to mention skillfully executed."

"Mom, why do you sound surprised that Jane drew this?"

"Honestly, Daria, I'm stunned that this was drawn by a teenager. The detail, the energy, I know you as well as anyone and Jane has managed to capture the essence of what makes you, you... when I look at this drawing I, actually, feel you're standing here next to me. Jane is an amazing talent, she possesses a level of skill and artistic style far beyond her years..."

As Mom went on praising Jane's artistry, I continued listening only partly aware of what was being said, My thoughts were replaying her previous observation and, yes, I had to agree that Jane's friendship was indeed a blessing. Jane's return broke my contemplation and focused my attention back to Mom's voice just as she said "... It's almost like God – as a gift for time lost – has given you a second Sister."

"You know, Mom, what you just said describes, exactly, the feelings I've had difficulty recognizing. Hey, Jane just came in, instead of me repeating our conversation, I'm sure she'd much prefer hearing it from you."

Hearing Mom say that she had been hoping for an opportunity to speak with Jane, I placed my hand over the lower half of the cell phone to mute my request and – as nonchalantly as possible, with a playful smirk fully in place – said to Jane "Hey Sis, Mom would like to speak with you." Jane was momentarily flummoxed by my words but quickly recovered after seeing the expression on my face. As I moved the phone from my ear towards where Jane was standing she mouthed "okay" and carefully took the phone from my hand.

Once she'd taken a seat at the foot of my bed, Jane placed the phone to her ear and in her throaty alto spoke her, now – for me – very familiar, phone salutation "Yo."

A moment later, Jane responded "Same here, Daria's told me a lot about you, too." Then "Thanks, it was my pleasure..." followed soon after by "Wow, I don't know if I'd say that..." then a short while later, with a chuckle evident in her voice "Well, if you insist, my ego's not so big that it couldn't stand a bit of congratulatory inflation; but, honestly, I'm just happy that you appreciate my work..." Finally, a few moments later and in the quiet, candid voice Jane only uses when something touches her to the core "Thank you, I feel the same way about her..." Then after a couple of head shakes and in a much lighter tone of voice "Yeah, me too. Well, until next time, Adios." Then standing up Jane handed the phone back to me before – quietly, so not to disturb my now renewed conversation – going to lay down on the roll-away.

I finished up the call a couple of minutes later. After plugging the charging cable into the cell phone then placing it on my night stand I turned to face Jane "If I put you on the spot, I'm sorry. She really wanted a chance to speak with you."

"No, Daria, it was fine. She just said a few things that caught me off guard... that's all. At least now I understand where that "Hey Sis" remark came from... we do act more like sisters than friends. I was never really close with Summer or Penny and I always felt, somewhat, slighted. Now, after speaking with Eileen – and before you say anything she insisted I use her name – it all makes sense."

"How so, Jane?"

"Normally, things people say or do don't get to me; you, however, have this ability to reach deep inside of me and pull out emotions I usually keep well in check. Hell, Yesterday I was so angry with you, Daria, that I lost it... the only other person who can get to me like that is Trent."

Okay, wow, it was surprising how deeply Jane's words effected me. As I searched for a suitable reply an old memory surfaced that encompassed, perfectly, what I was trying to say. "Jane, when I had only been in Idaho for about a year, I remember having said something to Mom that, although I thought was insignificant, had hurt her feelings. When Mom saw the look of confusion and sadness on my face – in response to her reaction – she told me something that at the time I only partly understood. I think that now I understand what she really wanted to explain to me that day."

I noticed that Jane seemed curious to hear what had been told to me and since she made no attempt to take up the conversation I continued "Mom told me 'Don't be eager or hasty to speak harshly to those you love and trust: be very careful and thoughtful, take all the time necessary to say exactly what you mean. Remember, Dear, we only hurt the ones we love.' I understood, then, the obvious part about those closest to you being most easily hurt by carelessly spoken words. The implied meaning in her words, though, has only become clear to me now: how important, rare and special truly close relationships are. Until last week I'd only felt that close to the Davidson's, I'd never had any real friends – either in Texas or Idaho – and, it shames me to admit, I had been anything but close to Quinn or my parents. I think, that's why I hadn't – until now – been able to recognize what's been going on between us. I asked you to stay over hoping to salvage a struggling friendship; obviously, that wasn't necessary. Jane, you said I have an ability to reach deep inside you... trust me, it's mutual."

After a minute or so spent in meaningful silence as we each digested what the other had said, Jane stood and retook a seat next to me. "I don't want to seem pathetically needy, and I definitely don't want to make you feel awkward, but somehow – even though I swore to myself that I'd never allow myself to be hurt again – I've dropped my defenses and have let you in. I trust you, Daria... but I need assurance... you have to give your word, to promise, that you'll never betray my trust... I don't think I'd survive it." Jane's pleading eye's matched the tone of her voice as she struggled through the final few words.

Without hesitation, locking eyes with Jane, I replied "Never. Jane, my word is everything to me and I swear I'll never betray your trust."

I waited, our gazes still locked, as Jane appeared to contemplate my reply, then after a slight nod of her head and with a small smile growing "That'll do. I know your word is good." I knitted my brow slightly in confusion, but before I could put voice to my confusion Jane continued "Trent told me about the talk you two had last week. How he'd asked you to keep what he said in confidence. You gave him your word and you kept your word."

"Oh... Trent asked me not to say anything unless you told me about it yourself. To be honest, Jane, it was bothering me knowing something that you weren't comfortable sharing... I felt like I'd, somehow, invaded your privacy. But, as I said before, my word is all I have; if I were to lose that what would I have left? Trent, believed it was important to tell me: I think he was relieved that you were trying to make a friend. I promised him that I would never hurt you."

"When Trent told me the next day, I was really miffed at him. All he said was wait and see, Daria seems like a good person." Jane stood as she said this and after laying down on the roll-away she continued in a furtive voice "I don't know, maybe he just wants me to keep you around so he can get to know you better." Jane then turned onto her side, facing me, so – I assume – she could gauge my reaction to her statement. After a second or two, and no visible reaction, she went on with "And thinking back to a certain blush you were sporting when you first met him, maybe the feeling's mutual."

"Jane, are you aware of the fact that, at times, you're simply incorrigible?"

With a fake pout and in a whiny voice laced with humor, Jane countered "Oh come on, Daria, think about it. Instead of being like sisters, we could actually be sisters."

"Jane, thanks, but no thanks. Dealing with one Lane is more than enough for me. Now, it's almost ten O'clock and knowing your sleep requirements I'd suggest we call it a night."

"Yeah, you know me too well, Amiga. If I don't get my minimum eight hours, then I'm just plain grumpy in the morning."

I had already gotten up and said "Okay, goodnight Lane." as I flicked the light switch off. As I settled back into my bed for the night, Jane answered with a simple "G'night Morgendorffer."

To be continued...