Daria

July 22nd, 1984

Nico and Eddie are sitting in the living room. I know I shouldn't be doing this, but I hope Eddie can get Nico back to his old self soon. Maybe he'll even get him off those drugs.

"We're going to a party today. Wanna come? Anna won't be there," Eddie says, reaching across to pat Nico's shoulder.

"Good," Nico says. The way he says it makes me very uncomfortable.

"I know you're not over her yet. I can see why."

It's been months since Anna and Nico broke up. How long does it take to get over a breakup?

"I'm coming," Nico says, after what feels like hours. "But I won't be there for long. I'll probably be there for about half an hour or so."

"Your sister says she never sees you these days."

"She always says that. Now that I'm at home, I have nothing to do except sleep. I'm fucking bored and sick of it all. I need something to keep me busy."

There's a long silence. Finally, Eddie speaks.

"I sometimes wonder if something's wrong, Nic. You've been acting a little different ever since two weeks after Anna broke up with you. Then a month later, you get into those drugs. 'To deal with the loneliness from Anna and all the uni stress.'" Eddie makes quotation marks as he speaks.

I can't hear the rest of what Eddie's saying. He knows Nico's on drugs and he's not doing anything about it?

"-and now I never see you," Eddie finishes. "It's good that you're coming with us."

It bothers me how easily Eddie's able to convince Nico to go to a party while I'd be lucky if I can even get Nico out of bed.

Later that day

"Nico's going to a party, Arwa," I say.

Arwa turns away from the phone and looks at me. She's waiting for a friend to call, so no one else is allowed to use the phone. She raises an eyebrow as she speaks.

"Who invited him?"

"Eddie."

"Eddie can convince Nico to come to a party but we can't even convince him to eat more food. How weird." Arwa turns back to the phone as Frada comes running from the bathroom.

"What's it like waiting for a friend to call you, Arwa?" Frada asks. Looks like she's going into another one of those question phases again.

"It's boring."

"What's it like feeling bored?"

"None of your business."

I decide I'm going to switch the topic.

"Nirvana's coming today," I say. Frada's eyes widen.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I hope we can play tic-tac-toe!" Frada shouts.

"Frada," Arwa says, turning toward her, "why don't you watch some TV?"

"Okay!" Frada shouts. She runs to the TV and turns it on, switching through channels until He-Man and the Masters of the Universe comes on. She just sits there, watching.

"I hate Nirvana, "Arwa says, looking at me. "Ever since Mom died, I feel like Dad wants to replace her. So does Nico." Arwa sighs, then continues.

Wait. Nico thinks Dad's trying to replace Mom? Then again, that brings back something from when Dad and Nirvana began dating.

"I don't know why you don't miss Mom. I can see why Frada doesn't because Mom died a few weeks after she was born but I don't get you. Why do you not miss her?"

Oh god. Not this conversation again.

"How can you miss someone when you don't remember them?" I ask.

"How do you not remember Mom?"

"I was three when she died. You don't remember much when you're three."

March 19th

"I like Nirvana!" I shout, as soon as she and Dad leave the room. Nico looks up at me, an eyebrow raised. His graded essay is on the table, with B+ written in red with a circle.

"Why?" He sounds disgusted. "Nirvana's just a replacement for Mom."

"No she's not! She's really nice!"

"She doesn't seem nice to me. Most stepmothers are cruel."

"That's just in bunk fairy tales!" I shout. "That ain't real life."

"Shut the fuck up."

My mouth closes.

Jack

July 24th, 1984

Dad's voice comes on the other end of the phone. "We're going to Halifax in a week and a half, kid. Pack up."

"Okay," I say. "Anything else?"

"No. That's it."

I can see Mom coming in to the room, with a razor turned on in her hand. But that's not what bothers me.

It's her hair.

If I thought she was horrifying in December, it's nothing compared to now.

Part of her head's shaved, some areas deeper than others. There's a look in her eyes that reminds me of a serial killer. Her mouth is twisted in an even more scary position.

"Bye, Dad. I'll see you later."

"Bye son."

Trembling with horror, I hang the phone. I have to try three times in order to get it done.

"D-d-dad's t-t-taking m-me to H-h-halif-f-fa-a-x in a w-w-week and a-a-a h-h-half."

"Halifax," Mom says.

"Yes," I say slowly.

"It's a fairy tale, Jack. Halifax is not a real place."

Is this some kind of joke? Then again, Mom's been acting weirder and weirder lately.

"Halifax is real, Mom. It's in Canada."

"No, son," she says, moving closer. "You are too old to believe in fairy tales, with princes and princesses and knights and dragons."

"H-h-Halifax is not fake," I say slowly, but even then, I'm not feeling good. Something tells me I need to get out now. Something tells me Mom might actually believe what's she's saying is true.

"Um, Mom," I say, with my biggest smile. "I wanna go outside. May I go?"

"Yes. Outside is real. It's not full of fairy tales." As she speaks, she lifts the razor to her head and shaves more parts of her hair. "But you seem to want to go outside all the time. You never want to see me."

Of course I don't want to see her. Mom freaks me out.

"Outside is full of bad people who will make you hate your mother." Mom comes so close to me she grabs my wrist. "I want you to be here until every last bit of hair is gone. At least then you will realize how good your mother is to shave her head when no one will."

No. No no no no no. I have to get out here.

People wonder why I don't talk about life at home much. I even remember Ms. Kane once telling me that if I don't talk about life at home, then I'm not a real man, and I'm not worthy of being a student of the Prince Karai Institute.

"You have to wear a dunce hat and stand in front of the whole class," Ms. Kane said, pointing me to the front. I still remember her putting hat on my head, everyone's laughter and jeers, and the tears running down my face.

"You're not a man."

That may have been in Grade 6, but I remember it well. I'm not going to forget it. Ever.

Why does everyone else have better lives than me? Daria, Randall, Aly, Marco, and even Cass. It's not fair.