Chapter Twenty-One; The Decisions We Make

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­­­­Daria trudged into her house with heavy steps. Her house was a place she tried to spend seldom time within; when she did get trapped inside, her time was then devoted to trying to get out. She walked straight upstairs, having just eaten a slice of pizza with Jane… though they dealt with it quickly and paid little mind to the situation; not as if it were anything to care about. Once in her room, she felt a sigh of relief pass her lips as she glanced toward her neglected PC. Her usual writing had been ignored due to her sudden interest in spending time with Trent and Jane.

Friends; they were a formidable opponent to the creative process that Daria knew and loved. The notion of working on writing and being able to maintain the level of social life was an impossibility and left Daria between a rock and a hard place.

Her bag tumbled to the floor just beside her desk; her books spilt across the floor but she ignored it. Once in her computer chair Daria felt at peace with the world and with herself. Without much of a thought, Daria logged into the PC and began sifting through stories she'd written a few weeks prior. There was one about a girl named Diana and a man named Tristan and their harlequin romance. Within a few seconds it was hidden deep in the recess of her computer's backlogged recycling bin. The story made her think, something she had been purposefully avoiding in trying to clean up her desktop.

There was Trent, Jane's older brother. Daria had an apparent crush on Trent, something they had both acknowledged and hardly dealt with outside of a few oddly placed kisses and discussions of pizza toppings. That had been the nature of their arrangement until a few nights ago when Trent had, had a bit too much to drink. Daria didn't let herself think about what had been said, not even the promise of a dinner and a nice proper date. In her experience, actions spoke volumes more than words.

Since the event in question, she hadn't spoken to Trent. As the computer churned on through its old, decrepit memory, Daria flicked open her choice program for writing and began to tap away. At first it was an obscure murder mystery plot, and then it progressed to some pseudo-religious cult faction… in truth, she had no idea what she was writing, nor did it matter.

After a few lines of crappy dialogue and mute dissatisfaction, Daria sighed out her aggravation. It simply wasn't working for her; Daria slipped out of her computer chair and climbed onto her bed, the haven that offered her the promise of another day closer to her freedom, and to college. As she looked out over the street she saw cars drive by and people dawdle by. It didn't really matter in the end. She just wanted to talk to someone who wasn't directly related to her issue with Jane or Trent; not issues, just awkward occurrences… As she thought this, the familiar tingle of a phone sounded. She waited for Quinn to pick it up before registering she was home alone.

Walking out toward the phone, she tugged it from the phone dock and issued her usual monotonous 'Hello'.

'Hey Daria, its Tom.'

'Hi.'

'I just thought I'd call and say hey,' Tom said with expected sincerity. There was a pause as neither continued… until Tom spoke again. 'Hello?'

'Yes?' Daria spoke with the same venom, her eyes drifting back to the screen of her computer, 'I thought you wanted to say hey, and you did… so conversation over,' Daria made a move to hang up the phone before hearing Tom making an attempt at a sentence. 'What?'

'Can't we just talk?' Tom asked, a few moments of silence quickly as neither spoke – it seemed a mutual disagreement, mostly owing to Daria's inability to articulate over the phone. 'Right, let's try this… I miss talking to you, even on a friend's terms.'

'We weren't friends before we dated,' Daria corrected, her gaze now settled on the toe of her boot. Tom had gone silent, a most useful time to gather her thoughts and try to pull together some witty comment. 'I'm sorry, this conversation is far too stimulating for my meagre intelligence,' Daria said with a small twitch in the corner of her mouth. It had been a biting comment, sure, but it amused her to act like a bit of a bitch to the guy who gave her such a hard time. Well, unintentionally, it wasn't like he meant to cripple her social skills and cause complete disarray between herself and the only friend she'd ever had.

'Does that sound good?' Tom seemed to ask again, his eyebrows narrowed – well, he sounded as if he looked angry at the moment.

'Huh,' Daria half-grunted, her mind torn between the image of herself dragging her knuckles and acting as a Neanderthal.

'I thought we could catch up over a dinner or something. A nice one, that pizza place is driving me insane.'

'Uhm,' Daria eloquently replied, her obvious doubt destroying her ability to speak, 'sure? As friends, though.'

'Mhm, that's obvious,' Tom said with a small laugh. He gathered Daria and Trent were sharing some awkward attempt at a relationship and decided he wanted no part – at least he could remain somehow friends with the former half of the couple; Trent and himself had never really spoken and probably never would. His ex's brother, and his other ex's boyfriend. Were it anyone else, Tom thought he would have earned an actual enemy. However, Tom surmised that Trent probably didn't have enough memory left to keep tabs on the people that hated him. He was barely able to remember what day it was, after all.

They settled the details, and decided it'd be better the sooner they got together. Daria had made a joke about him being over-eager and Tom simply reminded her anyone who wasn't catatonic seemed more eager than her. Daria was secretly and guiltily happy that she and Tom had reconciled in some form – he was something of a potential friend, and they kiss they'd shared had only ruined it. The relationship was perhaps one of the best mistakes she'd ever made, as it had lead perfectly into whatever she and Trent were currently stuck in.

Daria switched her computer off and returned to bed once more, as her urge to rose. 'Trent's rubbing off on me,' Daria mumbled as she changed into her pajamas. Another content shiver ran down her back as she warmed up under her blankets, her eyes happily shutting as she fell asleep at 10PM. It was perhaps the earliest she'd ever fallen asleep in her teenage life, minus a few conk-outs due to schoolwork or illness.

It was short-lived of course. Daria's door flung open around 10:30PM with an extremely loud and upset Quinn. 'Daria, mom gave you my shirt by mistake, y'know the cute one with the peacock print and orange – oh sorry, you're asleep. Didn't mean to wake you or anything, you need the beauty sleep after all. But like, no offence,' Quinn practically yelled – her voice sent Daria into a frenzy of blankets and flails.

'You couldn't wait till tomorrow to get it?' Daria asked from under her covers, her eyes poking out from the mass of blanket as she attempted to glare at the blurred figure. 'To quote a famous TVnerd, "My glasses, I can't see without my glasses",' she snidely remarked in her head, even if it was mocking herself.

'No way! Your braininess would have totally cramped its style. The poor little shirt would be stuck as a fashion-don't forever if you wore it by mistake.'

'Oh no, the poor thing,' Daria mumbled under her breath, curling up under the blankets once more. Quinn ransacked her closet and left the room as quickly as possible, leaving an awake and annoyed Daria to brood in the dark; well, the dark her blanket created. Quinn had neglected to switch the lights off. In a sudden, significant moment, Daria decided she didn't want to be stuck at home; she didn't want to be curled up imagining stupid little dreams to herself.

Within a few minutes, Daria was dressed and packed; her tacky duffle bag (covered in patches, tears and stains) was slung over her shoulder and ready to go. She quickly explained to her parents she was going to stay at Jane's, and that she didn't need a lift; Trent was coming to pick her up.

'Daria, really, at this late hour… why?' Helen almost gasped, her eyes narrowed at Daria. Her mother and father were midway through their nightly routine of getting ready for bed – despite this, they seemed ready to pounce on her with everything they had. 'You're not doing anything illegal are you?'

'I knew she was on drugs Helen! It's okay kiddo, we can get you help - '

'You're too young to be going out at night Daria - '

'My dad always thought I was on drugs… Always said I was a screw-up. Who's the crew up now dad!?'

'Jake,' Helen scolded, her husband crawling off to bed. 'What about school then? It may just be a Friday night, but Daria you need to consider college. What about your recommendations? All your teachers are worried you'll -'

Daria was walking down the hallway by this point after yelling a 'Bye' to her parents. To be fair, this was perhaps the most rebellious thing she had ever done; usually she wasn't required to be rebellious, nor did she require her parents' permission. But somewhere deep in her busily sparking brain was the knowledge she had to get out for the night.

She wondered how she would explain to Trent why she had called so late at night. Although he had said he was already awake, Daria felt she was an intrusion. They hadn't spoken for days but then she calls him out of the blue – again, he had said it was 'cool'. As she waited on the curb for him to arrive, her hands fiddled with the strap to her bag.

She expected her family to run out and drag her back inside – to tell her she was crazy for putting herself in such a situation with Trent. To remind her that she was a kid. Any further thoughts were stopped as something lashed in the distance; car lights materialised out of the darkness. What was inside caused Daria to grin, a rarity that no one managed to witness. She quickly covered her smile with her blank stare, her bag slipping just the slightest.

Within a blurred moment her bag was in the back seat of the car, her rear in the passenger seat and Trent stoically by her side. 'Hey,' Trent had said in his usual soft voice. It assumed nothing of the girl, while still welcoming everything she had to offer him. 'Why the late call? It's cool, I'm glad you did call… but it doesn't seem like something you'd do normally…'

'I'm old enough to be out at night, so I was wondering why I hadn't stayed out past curfew yet.'

'Oh, so I'm only your aide in breaking curfew now?'

'Well, you also offer mild amusement when drunk and have a car.'

'I'd say the same, but you're always amusing. And carless' Trent countered. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Daria flushed a dull red. 'Well whatever, I have some new song lyrics to show you… and a few band names. We were thinking of something like Tainted… something… any ideas?'

Helen and Jake had watched as Daria climbed into the car with Trent. Somehow they knew she was going to grow up, and considering the weeks, months and years they'd been dreading it… it didn't hurt as much as they feared. Ever since her youth she had, had trouble fitting in, in accepting others and even in just making a friend. So, to see her happy and going out was enough to make them back down and allow her to go with Trent.

Quinn, in a similar fashion, had noticed a car pulling up to the house. She was still up on her laptop talking to Sandy, so when the sound of brakes reverberated through the quiet suburban street she poked her head past her curtain. Somehow she didn't believe that Daria had gotten into the car, and that she had just imagined it. 'As if,' Quinn chuckled, her laptop still fixed to her fingertips.

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