Esteemers - II
Shani heaved a long, melancholy sigh, hugging Mr. Perkins and resting her chin on the top of his comfortingly soft head as she leaned back in her desk, waiting patiently for her 'special class' to begin. Really, there were times when being a 'keener' had its drawbacks. Namely, when one found oneself waiting half an hour for a class to begin.
'Maybe leaving my last class early just to make REALLY sure I'd be on time wasn't such a good idea,' she thought, frowning slightly. To be sure, Mr. Perkins hadn't approved of this at all. He had accepted it grudgingly once she had explained her reasoning to him, but had exhorted her not to make it a habit.
Mr. O'Neill faintly heard this heavy sigh through the haze of his own thoughts. Really, the essay that this new student, this Daria Morgendorffer had handed in was astounding! It showed remarkable clarity of thought, and there was a certain...tang to it. No teacher with this girl in his - or her - class would ever find her writing dull! And as for the basic conventions of writing, she seemed to be head and shoulders above any student that he, Mr. O'Neill, had taught in years!
Cuddling her duck more tightly, Shani heaved another sigh.
Mr. O'Neill looked up briefly.
"Oh, hello...er...um..."
"Shani," she replied, gazing sadly at him and trying to smile. "Shani May."
"Yes, Shani. That's right," the instructor said, shooting her a warm smile before turning back to his grading.
Shani frowned. This was rather unexpected...
"Um...Mr. Nice Teacher Man," she ventured timidly, "can I talk to you?"
Mr. O'Neill dropped the sheet of paper that he had been holding, his attention suddenly and completely captured by the young lass in the front row. A student was reaching out to him! This was his golden opportunity to truly make a difference in the life of a young person! This, in short, was the kind of thing that Timothy O'Neill lived for.
"Of course, Sandra," he said gently.
"It's Shani," she corrected.
"Oh! Shani! Of course! I haven't caused you lasting emotional damage by forgetting your name, have I, Shani?"
"No, Mr. Nice Teacher Man," she assured him, her wide grin finally returning.
"Oh, wonderful," Mr. O'Neill beamed. "Now, why don't you come sit beside me here and tell me what the problem is?" He patted the seat of a chair pulled up beside his desk.
"Well...it's just that...I'm new here," Shani began hesitantly once she had settled herself in the chair.
"Yes, starting at a new school is always a difficult period of adjustment," Mr. O'Neill agreed sympathetically. "It can make you feel like a feather caught up in a rough wind, can't it? Tossed about, never sure which way you're going next..."
"Um...okay. Anyway, I made a friend yesterday - his name's Charles, and he's really nice, even though he always looks at my legs when he's talking to me - I think he was staring at my Band-Aids," she concluded glumly, gesturing to the scrapes on her knees covered by any number of Smurf- patterned bandages. "And a lot of the other kids seem to be really nice. But...there are two special girls that I met. Mr. Perkins agrees with me that they're really neat, and that I should be their friend. But...somehow, I get this odd feeling that they don't want me around!"
Mr. O'Neill looked aghast, but recovered quickly.
"Well, Shani, you know that not everybody will like everybody just like that. Just give them a chance to get to know you."
"O-kay!" she chirped, bouncing from the chair and back to her desk and the abandoned Mr. Perkins.
"Er...Shani...who are these girls?" Mr. O'Neill asked, frowning slightly.
"Oh...their names are Daria and Jane...I think," she replied, putting a hand to her chin in consideration.
"Daria...is she the girl with all the earrings?" he asked slowly, the fantastic essay of ten minutes ago by that same Daria already forgotten.
"I think so," Shani confirmed with a nod. Then her eyes grew shiny in adoration, and she clasped her hands under her chin. "She's so cool and non- conforming-like!"
Mr. O'Neill smiled indulgently.
"Of course she is. But remember, Shani, without friends, it doesn't matter HOW 'cool' you are."
"That's what Mr. Perkins says!"
"Oh? Is Mr. Perkins a former writing mentor, perhaps? He sounds like a wise man."
Shani shook her head.
"No, Mr. Perkins isn't my WRITING mentor, exactly. He's...well, why don't you say hello?"
Mr. O'Neill looked somewhat confused.
"I suppose so, Shani, but how?"
Shani leapt once again from her desk and snatched up her duck backpack, shoving it under the startled teacher's nose.
"This is Mr. Perkins!"
Had the concept of a sweatdrop been applicable within the universe of Daria, Mr. O'Neill would certainly have put it to good use at this.
"Er...you have a very rich imagination, Shani, and that's good to see. But just remember to keep it in check, or you might forget what you've imagined, and what is actually real."
Shani frowned, then laughed.
"You're funny!"
Then she turned and bounced back to her desk, and all was silent in the classroom for the next several minutes, until a stream of young people poured into the classroom. As there were only seven of them, it wasn't much of a stream, but it is, after all, the thought that counts.
Mr. O'Neill bid everyone a warm welcome in his typically soothing tone, and picked up his book.
And with that, another self-esteem class was underway.
Jane smothered a snicker as she leaned over slightly and caught a glimpse of a rough sketch filling one page of Daria's notebook below the point where her notes had trailed off. It was a rather accurate depiction of their esteemed instructor with a gigantic block of cheese for a head. Nudging her new friend's elbow carefully, Jane motioned for Daria to hand her the notebook. With a somewhat bemused expression, Daria complied, and after a brief moment of sketching, Jane returned the drawing with a few editions.
Daria bit back a laugh at the sight of a grotesque, but incredibly skilfully done rat munching away at the corner of the figure's head, and the dog releasing its water on the figure's shoe. She glanced at Jane, who smiled wickedly.
Then, as she felt a light tap on her shoulder, Daria turned once it seemed that Mr. O'Neill was too absorbed in his lecture to notice. She immediately wished she hadn't, as Shani handed her a sheet of paper, a hopeful grin stretched out across her face. Reluctantly, Daria took it and turned back around.
Curious, Jane leaned over to get a peek, and both girls inwardly rolled their eyes at a very, very crude doodle of a figure that was unmistakably Shani, two more who could arguably have posed for them, and a little creature that looked something like a duck, frolicking together.
Daria and Jane both turned to glare at Shani, the force of these glares not at all lessened by the other girl's expression of shiny eyes and clasped hands, her smile still firmly in place.
It was at this unlucky juncture that Mr. O'Neill looked up from his speech.
"Now, girls," he began in what he considered to be a stern voice, "it's very nice to see that you're becoming friends, but this is a very important lesson, and so I must insist that you wait to do your 'hanging out' after the class."
"Or longer," Daria added.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Nice Teacher Man," Shani whimpered contritely. "I just wanted to show them my drawing! I spent all lunch-hour on it!"
"Oh, really? Well, an artistic endeavour of any kind is a good one. Would you mind if I took a quick peek?"
"Nope!" Shani beamed.
Cradling her head in one hand in utter despair at this severely depressing turn of events, Daria handed over the drawing.
Mr. O'Neill immediately broke out in a fond smile.
"I must say, Shani, I love the positive message of friendship and togetherness!"
"Thank-you, Mr. Nice Teacher Man!"
"We've GOT to get out of this class," Daria muttered to Jane.
Jane made a face.
"I'm beginning to agree with you."
Meanwhile, Mr. O'Neill had taken up his clipboard and pressed doggedly on.
"Alright, where were we? Oh, yes. So, what are we talking about when we talk about ourselves? Anyone?
A boy in the back of the room raised his hand tentatively.
"Um...we're...talking about us?"
"Excellent!" Mr. O'Neill gushed.
"Wow," Shani sighed. "He's so smart!"
The boy blushed and shrank back inside his shirt.
Mr. O'Neill continued.
"When we're talking about ourselves, we're talking about us! Now guys, I've got a little challenge for you. Today we talked about turning your daydreams into reality. Tonight, I want you to go home and do just that. What do you say? Um..." He scanned the crowd for a likely-looking victim, his gaze finally coming to rest on Daria. "You. What's a daydream that you would like to see come true?"
Daria resisted the urge to grit her teeth. Hadn't she suffered enough in this class today? Still, if the bubble-headed teacher wanted an answer, he was going to get one.
"Well, I guess I'd like my whole family to do something together."
"Excellent!" Mr. O'Neill gushed again, his eyes growing somewhat shiny.
"Something that'll really make them suffer," she added, a tiny smile creeping over her face.
Mr. O'Neill floundered slightly.
"Um...well, it's healthy to have these feelings." He flipped frantically through his book. "I think." Then he raised his head and smiled brightly at the class. "We'll talk more about this tomorrow. Class dismissed!"
"Mr. Perkins, what do you think she meant by that?" Shani asked her backpack, confused.
"I dunno, Shani," Mr. Perkins replied with a confused frown that only she could see. "Maybe this girl isn't the best influence for you, after all. Maybe you should talk to that nice redheaded boy again."
"B-but Mr. Perkins," Shani exclaimed, aghast. "I'm sure she's not a mean person! She was so nice to me yesterday!"
"Well, then just keep on tryin', kiddo," Mr. Perkins suggested with a shrug and a grin.
Shani pumped her fist triumphantly.
"You bet I will!"
Daria smirked as Quinn buried her face in her hands in utter humiliation and let out a groan of pain.
'What if someone SEES me here,' her lovely redheaded sister had demanded furiously, hands on her hips when Helen Morgendorffer had announced, fighting back a pained grimace, that they would be dining at Pizza Forest that night in accordance with Daria's wishes.
Daria had remarked to this that if any of Quinn's new friends managed to see her at Pizza Forest, there were bigger problems with these new friends than their thinking ill of her. This, of course, had earned no response, save an angry glare.
'I love you too, sis,' she reflected smugly, reflecting that this served nicely as revenge on Quinn for spreading it about that she was an only child.
"Oh, NO!" Quinn shrieked. "Those big animals are headed this way!"
"Don't look them in the eye," Daria advised calmly. "Animals can sense fear. If you make eye contact, they might maul you." Then she paused. "On second thought, DO make eye contact. Right now."
"You are such a GEEK!" Quinn huffed as the polyester-clad Pizza Forest employees gathered around their table and began to sing.
"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream," the carolled ecstatically.
"Now you join in!" the giant bunny urged Quinn.
"Can I join in?!" a voice asked expectantly from outside of the ring of animals.
Daria froze in horror. That...that voice! It couldn't be who she thought it was!
Yes, Daria, it could be. The row of animals parted slightly, and Shani emerged, wedged firmly between a horsie and moo-cow.
"Hi, Daria! I thought it was you!"
"Is this a new friend of yours, Daria?" Helen asked, smiling fondly at her eldest daughter. To be sure, this young lady didn't look like the most intelligent of people, but she, Helen, would have been delighted nonetheless to learn that Daria had actually reached out to a fellow classmate. Therefore, she was rather crestfallen when...
"No," Daria replied flatly, now mimicking Quinn and hiding her face in her hands.
"Not YET," Shani corrected. "But I'm sure that, in time, we'll be great pals!"
"Fortunately, that won't happen until after the Apocalypse," Daria muttered, then sat up straighter and glared at Shani, still clad in her little pleated plaid skirt, white blouse, sweater-vest, knee-socks, and Mary Janes, with Mr. Perkins dangling at her side. "What are you DOING here, anyway?"
"Oh! Well, Mom and Dad were so proud of me for getting into our special class, that they wanted to take me out for supper somewhere. I thought this place looked fun! And boy, was I right!" she concluded, her grin widening, if such a thing were possible.
"Of course," Daria agreed flatly. "When was the last time you had a group of animals serenade you while you were eating pizza?"
"Well, except for the pizza part, a couple weeks ago," Shani replied seriously. "I've never had pizza before. Usually, it's sardines and vanilla ice cream. Well, I gotta go before my little brother thinks the animals are what we're supposed to be eating. We get thrown out of more amusement parks that way," she concluded absently, turning and starting away from the table.
"Well!" Helen began brightly, rather at a loss. "She seems very...lively."
Daria rolled her eyes and pulled another slice of pepperoni pizza from the tray in the center of the table.
"Yeah."
"So, she actually showed up at Pizza Forest?" Jane asked, shaking her head in disbelief as she leaned against the headboard of her bed, the scratching of pencil against paper drifting down toward the other girl, who was seated at the edge of Jane's bed, not quite comfortable enough with the room yet to relax.
"Uh-huh," Daria confirmed glumly. "Talk about a perfect revenge shot to hell."
"Hey, don't be so pessimistic," Jane urged. "Your sister still suffered, right?"
Daria shrugged grudgingly.
"I guess. But the point was for only my family to suffer, while I watched in amused satisfaction. I wasn't supposed to suffer with them."
"These things happen," Jane said easily. "There'll be other revenges."
"I know," Daria grumbled. "But we've still gotta get out of that class."
"I don't know, Daria. What'll we do with our afternoons if we're not wasting them listening to Mr. O'Neill?"
Daria gestured toward the television, where a youth, his face riddled with acne, was describing for a fascinated Sick Sad World announcer his experience aboard an alien ship.
"UFO conventions," she replied with a casual shrug, as though there could be no question about it.
"Now, why didn't I think of that?" Jane demanded of no one in particular.
"I can't believe people in this town!" Violet May was currently ranting, cuddling her four-year old son, Daly May protectively as the family station wagon shot home through the darkening night.
"Well, y'know, Mommy, Daly did try to eat the doggie," Shani reminded her mother diplomatically. "They kinda look down on that here."
"He's only a child! How on earth was he supposed to know?" the incensed woman demanded.
"Calm down, Violet," Edward May urged, turning to his wife and patting her arm sympathetically, heedless of the fact that the vehicle was still moving, now with no one steering it.
"M-mommy," Daly sniffled, "am I a little hellion?"
"Of course not, love," Violet assured him too fervently.
"I'm sorry, Daly!" Shani sobbed, launching herself over the seat to hug her little brother tightly. "Forgive me?"
"'Course, big sister!" Daly sobbed back, inadvertently digging his heel into his mother's side in effort to hug Shani back more effectively.
"How sweet," Edward and Violet sighed together, eyes growing misty as they watched this emotional reconciliation between their children.
"Yaaaaaaagh!" a certain bald young man with a good deal of metal in his face howled as the station wagon bounced up over the curb, and still showed no signs of stopping. He leapt out of the way and tried to tuck into a forward roll, which certainly would have made for a very smooth, elegant getaway, if not for the fact that young Max had no idea how to execute such a manoeuvre, and ended up simply hitting his head on the concrete. However, as he peeled himself off of the sidewalk and sat up dizzily, rubbing his head, he reflected that really, the owners of the station wagon had it worse.
The vehicle still didn't stop once on the sidewalk, and instead sailed merrily over that same sidewalk and onto a nearby house's front lawn. Still, though, it didn't stop. It hurtled over the lawn and crashed headlong into the miniature cast iron deer plonked down at a random spot in the grass.
"Not much of a loss," Max noted, eyeing the wreckage of a very ugly lawn ornament.
At this point, he watched in fascination as four people emerged from the now-smoking station wagon.
First was a middle-aged man, stoutish of build, and well on his way to sporting the same hairstyle as Max, but much less voluntarily.
Next came a middle-aged woman, also rather stoutish, her curly red hair cropped close to her head, and her ample form swathed in a brightly coloured flowered dress.
The next to emerge from the car was a little boy, who bounced energetically through the window.
"Dat was neat! C'n we do it again?!" he asked the two adults, presumably his parents.
"No, Daly," the woman replied sternly, picking him up.
The last person to emerge from the vehicle made Max look twice, if only because he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a girl of high-school age in such a stereotyped schoolgirl outfit. This strange specimen of teenage-girl-hood bounced from the car, also from the involuntarily open passenger-side window. Naturally, as one might expect, the edge of her skirt caught on a shard of glass, which resulted in the sound of tearing cloth, and quite an eyeful for the young man watching from the sidewalk.
"So, what'd we hit, Daddy?" she asked the man.
"I...can't quite tell. I think it might have been a lawn ornament," the man laughed. "Boy, is my face red!"
"Actually," the girl corrected, peering searchingly at the man, "it's kinda pinkish."
Max snickered. This drew the attention of the happy little family, now all laughing sheepishly over their destruction of someone else's property.
"Oh, geez! Did we hit you, too?" the man asked, hurrying toward Max.
"No, no, I'm fine," Max assured him before turning to the girl, who had procured from somewhere a backpack that looked something like a duck. "Thanks to my lightning-quick reflexes, I dodged in time. Not that being hit by a car coulda hurt me!"
"Oh," the man nodded. "Okay."
And with that, the family turned and wandered back to their vehicle, leaving behind them a rather taken aback Max.
"What a bunch of weirdoes," he commented to himself sadly before turning and continuing down the street.
End Notes: Hi! [Waves cheerfully]
Shani heaved a long, melancholy sigh, hugging Mr. Perkins and resting her chin on the top of his comfortingly soft head as she leaned back in her desk, waiting patiently for her 'special class' to begin. Really, there were times when being a 'keener' had its drawbacks. Namely, when one found oneself waiting half an hour for a class to begin.
'Maybe leaving my last class early just to make REALLY sure I'd be on time wasn't such a good idea,' she thought, frowning slightly. To be sure, Mr. Perkins hadn't approved of this at all. He had accepted it grudgingly once she had explained her reasoning to him, but had exhorted her not to make it a habit.
Mr. O'Neill faintly heard this heavy sigh through the haze of his own thoughts. Really, the essay that this new student, this Daria Morgendorffer had handed in was astounding! It showed remarkable clarity of thought, and there was a certain...tang to it. No teacher with this girl in his - or her - class would ever find her writing dull! And as for the basic conventions of writing, she seemed to be head and shoulders above any student that he, Mr. O'Neill, had taught in years!
Cuddling her duck more tightly, Shani heaved another sigh.
Mr. O'Neill looked up briefly.
"Oh, hello...er...um..."
"Shani," she replied, gazing sadly at him and trying to smile. "Shani May."
"Yes, Shani. That's right," the instructor said, shooting her a warm smile before turning back to his grading.
Shani frowned. This was rather unexpected...
"Um...Mr. Nice Teacher Man," she ventured timidly, "can I talk to you?"
Mr. O'Neill dropped the sheet of paper that he had been holding, his attention suddenly and completely captured by the young lass in the front row. A student was reaching out to him! This was his golden opportunity to truly make a difference in the life of a young person! This, in short, was the kind of thing that Timothy O'Neill lived for.
"Of course, Sandra," he said gently.
"It's Shani," she corrected.
"Oh! Shani! Of course! I haven't caused you lasting emotional damage by forgetting your name, have I, Shani?"
"No, Mr. Nice Teacher Man," she assured him, her wide grin finally returning.
"Oh, wonderful," Mr. O'Neill beamed. "Now, why don't you come sit beside me here and tell me what the problem is?" He patted the seat of a chair pulled up beside his desk.
"Well...it's just that...I'm new here," Shani began hesitantly once she had settled herself in the chair.
"Yes, starting at a new school is always a difficult period of adjustment," Mr. O'Neill agreed sympathetically. "It can make you feel like a feather caught up in a rough wind, can't it? Tossed about, never sure which way you're going next..."
"Um...okay. Anyway, I made a friend yesterday - his name's Charles, and he's really nice, even though he always looks at my legs when he's talking to me - I think he was staring at my Band-Aids," she concluded glumly, gesturing to the scrapes on her knees covered by any number of Smurf- patterned bandages. "And a lot of the other kids seem to be really nice. But...there are two special girls that I met. Mr. Perkins agrees with me that they're really neat, and that I should be their friend. But...somehow, I get this odd feeling that they don't want me around!"
Mr. O'Neill looked aghast, but recovered quickly.
"Well, Shani, you know that not everybody will like everybody just like that. Just give them a chance to get to know you."
"O-kay!" she chirped, bouncing from the chair and back to her desk and the abandoned Mr. Perkins.
"Er...Shani...who are these girls?" Mr. O'Neill asked, frowning slightly.
"Oh...their names are Daria and Jane...I think," she replied, putting a hand to her chin in consideration.
"Daria...is she the girl with all the earrings?" he asked slowly, the fantastic essay of ten minutes ago by that same Daria already forgotten.
"I think so," Shani confirmed with a nod. Then her eyes grew shiny in adoration, and she clasped her hands under her chin. "She's so cool and non- conforming-like!"
Mr. O'Neill smiled indulgently.
"Of course she is. But remember, Shani, without friends, it doesn't matter HOW 'cool' you are."
"That's what Mr. Perkins says!"
"Oh? Is Mr. Perkins a former writing mentor, perhaps? He sounds like a wise man."
Shani shook her head.
"No, Mr. Perkins isn't my WRITING mentor, exactly. He's...well, why don't you say hello?"
Mr. O'Neill looked somewhat confused.
"I suppose so, Shani, but how?"
Shani leapt once again from her desk and snatched up her duck backpack, shoving it under the startled teacher's nose.
"This is Mr. Perkins!"
Had the concept of a sweatdrop been applicable within the universe of Daria, Mr. O'Neill would certainly have put it to good use at this.
"Er...you have a very rich imagination, Shani, and that's good to see. But just remember to keep it in check, or you might forget what you've imagined, and what is actually real."
Shani frowned, then laughed.
"You're funny!"
Then she turned and bounced back to her desk, and all was silent in the classroom for the next several minutes, until a stream of young people poured into the classroom. As there were only seven of them, it wasn't much of a stream, but it is, after all, the thought that counts.
Mr. O'Neill bid everyone a warm welcome in his typically soothing tone, and picked up his book.
And with that, another self-esteem class was underway.
Jane smothered a snicker as she leaned over slightly and caught a glimpse of a rough sketch filling one page of Daria's notebook below the point where her notes had trailed off. It was a rather accurate depiction of their esteemed instructor with a gigantic block of cheese for a head. Nudging her new friend's elbow carefully, Jane motioned for Daria to hand her the notebook. With a somewhat bemused expression, Daria complied, and after a brief moment of sketching, Jane returned the drawing with a few editions.
Daria bit back a laugh at the sight of a grotesque, but incredibly skilfully done rat munching away at the corner of the figure's head, and the dog releasing its water on the figure's shoe. She glanced at Jane, who smiled wickedly.
Then, as she felt a light tap on her shoulder, Daria turned once it seemed that Mr. O'Neill was too absorbed in his lecture to notice. She immediately wished she hadn't, as Shani handed her a sheet of paper, a hopeful grin stretched out across her face. Reluctantly, Daria took it and turned back around.
Curious, Jane leaned over to get a peek, and both girls inwardly rolled their eyes at a very, very crude doodle of a figure that was unmistakably Shani, two more who could arguably have posed for them, and a little creature that looked something like a duck, frolicking together.
Daria and Jane both turned to glare at Shani, the force of these glares not at all lessened by the other girl's expression of shiny eyes and clasped hands, her smile still firmly in place.
It was at this unlucky juncture that Mr. O'Neill looked up from his speech.
"Now, girls," he began in what he considered to be a stern voice, "it's very nice to see that you're becoming friends, but this is a very important lesson, and so I must insist that you wait to do your 'hanging out' after the class."
"Or longer," Daria added.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Nice Teacher Man," Shani whimpered contritely. "I just wanted to show them my drawing! I spent all lunch-hour on it!"
"Oh, really? Well, an artistic endeavour of any kind is a good one. Would you mind if I took a quick peek?"
"Nope!" Shani beamed.
Cradling her head in one hand in utter despair at this severely depressing turn of events, Daria handed over the drawing.
Mr. O'Neill immediately broke out in a fond smile.
"I must say, Shani, I love the positive message of friendship and togetherness!"
"Thank-you, Mr. Nice Teacher Man!"
"We've GOT to get out of this class," Daria muttered to Jane.
Jane made a face.
"I'm beginning to agree with you."
Meanwhile, Mr. O'Neill had taken up his clipboard and pressed doggedly on.
"Alright, where were we? Oh, yes. So, what are we talking about when we talk about ourselves? Anyone?
A boy in the back of the room raised his hand tentatively.
"Um...we're...talking about us?"
"Excellent!" Mr. O'Neill gushed.
"Wow," Shani sighed. "He's so smart!"
The boy blushed and shrank back inside his shirt.
Mr. O'Neill continued.
"When we're talking about ourselves, we're talking about us! Now guys, I've got a little challenge for you. Today we talked about turning your daydreams into reality. Tonight, I want you to go home and do just that. What do you say? Um..." He scanned the crowd for a likely-looking victim, his gaze finally coming to rest on Daria. "You. What's a daydream that you would like to see come true?"
Daria resisted the urge to grit her teeth. Hadn't she suffered enough in this class today? Still, if the bubble-headed teacher wanted an answer, he was going to get one.
"Well, I guess I'd like my whole family to do something together."
"Excellent!" Mr. O'Neill gushed again, his eyes growing somewhat shiny.
"Something that'll really make them suffer," she added, a tiny smile creeping over her face.
Mr. O'Neill floundered slightly.
"Um...well, it's healthy to have these feelings." He flipped frantically through his book. "I think." Then he raised his head and smiled brightly at the class. "We'll talk more about this tomorrow. Class dismissed!"
"Mr. Perkins, what do you think she meant by that?" Shani asked her backpack, confused.
"I dunno, Shani," Mr. Perkins replied with a confused frown that only she could see. "Maybe this girl isn't the best influence for you, after all. Maybe you should talk to that nice redheaded boy again."
"B-but Mr. Perkins," Shani exclaimed, aghast. "I'm sure she's not a mean person! She was so nice to me yesterday!"
"Well, then just keep on tryin', kiddo," Mr. Perkins suggested with a shrug and a grin.
Shani pumped her fist triumphantly.
"You bet I will!"
Daria smirked as Quinn buried her face in her hands in utter humiliation and let out a groan of pain.
'What if someone SEES me here,' her lovely redheaded sister had demanded furiously, hands on her hips when Helen Morgendorffer had announced, fighting back a pained grimace, that they would be dining at Pizza Forest that night in accordance with Daria's wishes.
Daria had remarked to this that if any of Quinn's new friends managed to see her at Pizza Forest, there were bigger problems with these new friends than their thinking ill of her. This, of course, had earned no response, save an angry glare.
'I love you too, sis,' she reflected smugly, reflecting that this served nicely as revenge on Quinn for spreading it about that she was an only child.
"Oh, NO!" Quinn shrieked. "Those big animals are headed this way!"
"Don't look them in the eye," Daria advised calmly. "Animals can sense fear. If you make eye contact, they might maul you." Then she paused. "On second thought, DO make eye contact. Right now."
"You are such a GEEK!" Quinn huffed as the polyester-clad Pizza Forest employees gathered around their table and began to sing.
"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream," the carolled ecstatically.
"Now you join in!" the giant bunny urged Quinn.
"Can I join in?!" a voice asked expectantly from outside of the ring of animals.
Daria froze in horror. That...that voice! It couldn't be who she thought it was!
Yes, Daria, it could be. The row of animals parted slightly, and Shani emerged, wedged firmly between a horsie and moo-cow.
"Hi, Daria! I thought it was you!"
"Is this a new friend of yours, Daria?" Helen asked, smiling fondly at her eldest daughter. To be sure, this young lady didn't look like the most intelligent of people, but she, Helen, would have been delighted nonetheless to learn that Daria had actually reached out to a fellow classmate. Therefore, she was rather crestfallen when...
"No," Daria replied flatly, now mimicking Quinn and hiding her face in her hands.
"Not YET," Shani corrected. "But I'm sure that, in time, we'll be great pals!"
"Fortunately, that won't happen until after the Apocalypse," Daria muttered, then sat up straighter and glared at Shani, still clad in her little pleated plaid skirt, white blouse, sweater-vest, knee-socks, and Mary Janes, with Mr. Perkins dangling at her side. "What are you DOING here, anyway?"
"Oh! Well, Mom and Dad were so proud of me for getting into our special class, that they wanted to take me out for supper somewhere. I thought this place looked fun! And boy, was I right!" she concluded, her grin widening, if such a thing were possible.
"Of course," Daria agreed flatly. "When was the last time you had a group of animals serenade you while you were eating pizza?"
"Well, except for the pizza part, a couple weeks ago," Shani replied seriously. "I've never had pizza before. Usually, it's sardines and vanilla ice cream. Well, I gotta go before my little brother thinks the animals are what we're supposed to be eating. We get thrown out of more amusement parks that way," she concluded absently, turning and starting away from the table.
"Well!" Helen began brightly, rather at a loss. "She seems very...lively."
Daria rolled her eyes and pulled another slice of pepperoni pizza from the tray in the center of the table.
"Yeah."
"So, she actually showed up at Pizza Forest?" Jane asked, shaking her head in disbelief as she leaned against the headboard of her bed, the scratching of pencil against paper drifting down toward the other girl, who was seated at the edge of Jane's bed, not quite comfortable enough with the room yet to relax.
"Uh-huh," Daria confirmed glumly. "Talk about a perfect revenge shot to hell."
"Hey, don't be so pessimistic," Jane urged. "Your sister still suffered, right?"
Daria shrugged grudgingly.
"I guess. But the point was for only my family to suffer, while I watched in amused satisfaction. I wasn't supposed to suffer with them."
"These things happen," Jane said easily. "There'll be other revenges."
"I know," Daria grumbled. "But we've still gotta get out of that class."
"I don't know, Daria. What'll we do with our afternoons if we're not wasting them listening to Mr. O'Neill?"
Daria gestured toward the television, where a youth, his face riddled with acne, was describing for a fascinated Sick Sad World announcer his experience aboard an alien ship.
"UFO conventions," she replied with a casual shrug, as though there could be no question about it.
"Now, why didn't I think of that?" Jane demanded of no one in particular.
"I can't believe people in this town!" Violet May was currently ranting, cuddling her four-year old son, Daly May protectively as the family station wagon shot home through the darkening night.
"Well, y'know, Mommy, Daly did try to eat the doggie," Shani reminded her mother diplomatically. "They kinda look down on that here."
"He's only a child! How on earth was he supposed to know?" the incensed woman demanded.
"Calm down, Violet," Edward May urged, turning to his wife and patting her arm sympathetically, heedless of the fact that the vehicle was still moving, now with no one steering it.
"M-mommy," Daly sniffled, "am I a little hellion?"
"Of course not, love," Violet assured him too fervently.
"I'm sorry, Daly!" Shani sobbed, launching herself over the seat to hug her little brother tightly. "Forgive me?"
"'Course, big sister!" Daly sobbed back, inadvertently digging his heel into his mother's side in effort to hug Shani back more effectively.
"How sweet," Edward and Violet sighed together, eyes growing misty as they watched this emotional reconciliation between their children.
"Yaaaaaaagh!" a certain bald young man with a good deal of metal in his face howled as the station wagon bounced up over the curb, and still showed no signs of stopping. He leapt out of the way and tried to tuck into a forward roll, which certainly would have made for a very smooth, elegant getaway, if not for the fact that young Max had no idea how to execute such a manoeuvre, and ended up simply hitting his head on the concrete. However, as he peeled himself off of the sidewalk and sat up dizzily, rubbing his head, he reflected that really, the owners of the station wagon had it worse.
The vehicle still didn't stop once on the sidewalk, and instead sailed merrily over that same sidewalk and onto a nearby house's front lawn. Still, though, it didn't stop. It hurtled over the lawn and crashed headlong into the miniature cast iron deer plonked down at a random spot in the grass.
"Not much of a loss," Max noted, eyeing the wreckage of a very ugly lawn ornament.
At this point, he watched in fascination as four people emerged from the now-smoking station wagon.
First was a middle-aged man, stoutish of build, and well on his way to sporting the same hairstyle as Max, but much less voluntarily.
Next came a middle-aged woman, also rather stoutish, her curly red hair cropped close to her head, and her ample form swathed in a brightly coloured flowered dress.
The next to emerge from the car was a little boy, who bounced energetically through the window.
"Dat was neat! C'n we do it again?!" he asked the two adults, presumably his parents.
"No, Daly," the woman replied sternly, picking him up.
The last person to emerge from the vehicle made Max look twice, if only because he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a girl of high-school age in such a stereotyped schoolgirl outfit. This strange specimen of teenage-girl-hood bounced from the car, also from the involuntarily open passenger-side window. Naturally, as one might expect, the edge of her skirt caught on a shard of glass, which resulted in the sound of tearing cloth, and quite an eyeful for the young man watching from the sidewalk.
"So, what'd we hit, Daddy?" she asked the man.
"I...can't quite tell. I think it might have been a lawn ornament," the man laughed. "Boy, is my face red!"
"Actually," the girl corrected, peering searchingly at the man, "it's kinda pinkish."
Max snickered. This drew the attention of the happy little family, now all laughing sheepishly over their destruction of someone else's property.
"Oh, geez! Did we hit you, too?" the man asked, hurrying toward Max.
"No, no, I'm fine," Max assured him before turning to the girl, who had procured from somewhere a backpack that looked something like a duck. "Thanks to my lightning-quick reflexes, I dodged in time. Not that being hit by a car coulda hurt me!"
"Oh," the man nodded. "Okay."
And with that, the family turned and wandered back to their vehicle, leaving behind them a rather taken aback Max.
"What a bunch of weirdoes," he commented to himself sadly before turning and continuing down the street.
End Notes: Hi! [Waves cheerfully]