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Chapter Twenty-Six; An Actress Is Born
Daria arrived at home, mildly dampened by the rain she had just walked through. Despite the uncomfortable sensation of water splattered across her hair and face, she felt a little refreshed. The Lane household smelled of art supplies, burnt clay and incense. While it was a familiar and welcome smell, it was a little overwhelming sometimes; especially when Trent tried to convince her that he didn't smoke by putting out more incense than usual.
She could taste the fact he smoked by walking into his room and even in hugging him. She didn't know whether or not to mind, seeing as it was his choice. Within a few seconds, she was in her own room and free of the world outside her padded walls. A few moments passed between her arrival home and her boredom returning. Maybe she should have Jane come stay over so they could eat pizza and complain about various social issues they faced.
Before that, however, Daria decided to spend some alone time reading the magazine she'd purchased a while ago. It sat unread on her bedside table; the pages were slightly tattered from the number of times it'd fallen from its perch. She tugged it onto her bed and slumped back against her pillow, her boots now discarded on the floor beside her.
As soon as she settled into her article, a knock sounded from her door. She acknowledged the sound, yelling out a 'come in' before continuing to read the rambled recollections of alien settlements a few suburbs over. Tabloids were hilarious to her, mostly due to the fact it distracted her from her own weird life.
'Daria, I've heard rumours about yourself and that Trent Lane fellow,' Helen said in a guarded tone, her voice oddly cautious.
Daria could have died in this moment, but she kept a prevalently calm exterior. Thankful for her years as an outcast, she kept her cool. Looking up from the magazine that was laying across her lap, Daria narrowed her eyes in confusion. 'Rumours? You mean Quinn told you and you're afraid I'll exact revenge if you admit it?'
'No, no… well… Of course your sister told me – I mean, don't be mad at her… She was just worried about you and -' she paused at seeing the entirely unbelieving expression Daria sent her way, 'Alright, we caught her sneaking out the other night and she told us to lessen her sentence… I have a feeling you would have worked this out anyway,' she added carefully, her eyes narrowed towards the wall. Her daughter definitely shared her sharp wit, or so she liked to believe.
'Oh is that all… who knew backstabbing was still as rampant as ever.'
'So it's true then?'
'No.'
'Oh Daria, you haven't been pressured into anything have you? I mean, I'm sure he's a lovely boy and all, but he is a few years older than you so I'd hate to hear that he's forced you into anything -'
'Stop, okay, okay, it's true, stop talking,' Daria said gingerly, her hands resting against her ears. She knew her mother had only blabbed like that to make her talk – if there was anything Helen Morgendorffer knew, it was how to make Daria admit things she would never usually admit. Noticing the triumphant little smile that Helen now held across her face, Daria reaffirmed there was no possibility she was adopted. 'Can I end this conversation somehow?'
'Just hear me out -'
'Again, any way to end this conversation?'
Helen disappeared for a moment before returning to her elder daughter's room, a non-descript brown bag clutched in her hand. Daria pre-emptively flinched, her face twisting into a disgusted little frown. 'Mom.'
'Just take them,' Helen warned, the two sharing an awkward glance. Neither wanted to approach the topic any further. 'Feel like cheese and crackers?'
Daria examined the small box within the bag, shaking her head. 'Oh good, my favourite brand.'
'Now I know your trying to make me give you the talk.'
'Cheese and crackers sounds good, mom.' This was a sentence Daria never felt she would utter – anything to end this as soon as possible, her cheeks a dull thumping red. She was thankful her father wasn't around, fearful of what he would have done. Thrown up, passed out, gone into a coma – all these were very real possibilities. Moments passed between Helen and Daria before a much needed hug was shared. Neither said much, or even acknowledged the gesture – but there was an unspoken agreement they would talk.
'So you approve…?'
'If it makes you happy, I'm happy…' Helen said with some uneasiness. While true, she hoped it wouldn't harm Daria for the relationship to continue. She had raised a smart girl, so her apprehension could only last so long.
Even if Daria was queasy at the idea of physical intimacy of this calibre, she wouldn't allow her mother to stress and worry at home. It was some kind of realisation she felt came with turning 18, though this was something else she wouldn't admit. Helen told Daria that she was due to go out with dinner with work associates, which was only confirmed by the sound of Jake complaining loudly from downstairs, yelling something about upstarts in tuxedoes.
'I'll see you later then… uhm. Have fun.'
Helen seemed softly teary-eyed, allowing herself a moment to relish Daria's kind words. Though she knew Daria loved her, and that they rarely admitted it, 'Oh – of course. I'd better go get ready… and make sure your father doesn't make a run for it.' She disappeared from the room, a hand clutched against her chest and her face turned down slightly to the floor.
Daria examined the bag once more, gingerly plucking the box from within. 'God,' she muttered, pushing them back into the bag and shoving them under her bed. She wouldn't need them, she wouldn't need them, she wouldn't need them. Now, with the box of plastic little squares was stashed away and hidden, Daria felt her mind tugged back the article she had been reading prior to her mother's interruption.
The door opened a crack.
'Daria?'
'Ah, the traitor makes herself known. Brave Quinn,' Daria muttered, laying down on her stomach, her arms crossed under her chin as she continued to read her magazine.
'I just wanted to say I was sorry.' Quinn assured Daria, her arms crossed and her face turned away from the older girl.
'Oh thanks, now I don't feel as creeped out by the conversation I just had with mom,' Daria flipped the page over, continuing to read about the alien settlement that was apparently being built overnight in towns. She had to admit that farmers were really getting their 15 minutes of fame in these cheap, unreliable magazines.
A weight settled on the edge of her bed, causing Daria to sit up. Quinn seemed to be solemn, oddly quiet for her usual bubbly, pink-shirted self. 'You really like him huh?'
Daria mentally began swearing to herself, mostly exclamations for a merciful god somewhere to strike her down where she sat. The last thing she needed after that discussion with her mother was one with Quinn. Shaking away her hair from her eyes, Daria fiddled with the edge of her glasses. 'Uh. Yeah… I guess.' The was a pause and no noticeable continuation of conversation. 'Why? What happened? Did Stacey sharpen her eyeliner too much or something?'
'No, that was last week…' Quinn morosely sighed, her knees now hugged to her chest. 'I want a boyfriend.'
Daria felt her heart stop – why was she having this conversation with her sister? Wasn't this against everything she knew? Wasn't Quinn's mob of girlish henchmen more suited to this kind of conversation? Her eyes darted between her small TV and the saddening frame of Quinn. 'Then get one?'
'Oh Daria, it's not as simple for us popular people… you have to pick someone who's as popular as you! I mean, they can't be less popular, because then you're less popular… but if they're more popular then you have no chance with them. See what I mean?' Quinn seemed deadly serious about the topic, her eyes still glued to her feet, her arms wrapped around her knees. 'So I have to make sure they're as popular. Then I have to make sure they're as good-looking as me without being too -'
'Stop,' Daria managed to choke, her eyes widening slightly. 'Quinn, are you even listening to yourself? A boyfriend isn't a handbag you can change with your outfits and choose through categories of popularity…' Daria scratched her own neck before sitting at the edge of her bed. With a deep breath, she hung her head and mumbled out a long speech. Most of it was missed, due to the rushed, scared pace it was said but the message was clear. 'If all you're worried about is a guy who can make you look good then you don't deserve a boyfriend. Maybe wait till you're a little more mature,' Daria softly suggested, her hand resting on Quinn's shoulder.
'But I am mature! People always think I'm like, 23 but in a good way. I never get asked for ID and I always get asked out by older guys…'
'Again, you're missing the point. Why do you think I'm dating Trent?'
'Because he's a singer in a band, has a,' she paused and laughed,' I guess you could call it a car. And he's old enough to buy you alcohol if you wanted it. I suppose he's also got a bit of income -'
Daria stared at her sister, literally dumbstruck by the trivial things she pulled out of her swollen head. 'Quinn, grow up. I know you don't believe half of the stuff you talk about, and I know you liked that tutor you had a while ago,' Daria was met with a look of shock, 'yeah, I happened to notice something about you. Keep it to yourself. I'm dating Trent because I want to. Even if he wasn't a lead singer, he didn't have a car and he wasn't able to buy me alcohol, he makes me feel like a person, not a freak or a nerd… I can act like myself around him. For once I don't have to feel guarded… You'll find some poor guy who'll make you feel the same and… w-wait, did mom put you up to this?'
'N-No, I'm just asking because… uhm… I want to get to know you and… uhm…' Quinn eyed the door. 'Oh I hear the phone ringing!' And, with this lie, Quinn darted out of the room. Why hadn't Daria smelt a rat earlier? She issued a low sigh, her magazine now crumpled in her angry clutches.
'Damnit.'
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Downstairs Quinn relayed the information to her mother. Helen felt a small smile work its way across her face as Quinn explained how Daria had reacted and what she had said. Yes, it was a low-down trick and wouldn't stand well with her daughter, but she was a lawyer second to being a mother.
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