Chapter Eight

Helen came into the kitchen, rubbing her face sleepily and squinting in the soft light of dawn, and got out the can of coffee. She looked out the window and was surprised to see Daria, curled up on a rug on the back porch, asleep next to Opie's box.

Helen rapped on the windowpane, careful not to hit any of the small potted cacti on the sill. "Daria! Daria, wake up!"

Daria stirred and tried to rise, but had to roll over onto her right side to do so. She staggered into the kitchen, rubbing and shaking her left arm as if it had gone to sleep on her. The hair on the left side of her head looked like it was hiding a large tumor.

"Why did you sleep out there, Daria? Didn't you believe me when I said we wouldn't bother Opie?" Helen asked, sounding a little hurt.

"Hmm? Oh, uh, no. I mean, that's not why. After he pottied the last time, I was gonna stay with him till he went to sleep, and I guess I went to sleep, too." Daria, evidently having quite a few kinks to work out, was rubbing and stretching various parts of her body. "If I'd planned to do it, I'd've borrowed a couple of sofa cushions. I sure will next time," she muttered, rubbing her hip.

Helen smirked a little. "I can't believe you spent the whole night out there with nothing between you and that concrete but a rag rug."

Daria nodded ruefully. "Mmm, yeah, me too. I kept meaning to get up and go to bed in another minute."

Helen smiled. "Well, it's almost time you'd be getting up anyway. Go get dressed and come have breakfast. It looks like you may need a few extra minutes with your hair."

Daria made a little grunting noise and staggered off down the hall.

~~~~~~~

Helen rinsed off her bowl and spoon and put them in the dishwasher, and almost in the same motion got out a clean bowl and handed it to Quinn, who was just shuffling in, looking grumpy. "Hurry up, Daria, you need to start looking for that man who takes in orphaned animals."

"Already found him." Daria hung up the phone, tore a sheet off the notepad, and held it up.

"So quickly?"

"I called the animal shelter. They had his name and number on file. He lives about five miles out in the country. When can somebody take me out there?"

"I think I can get off early today and pick you up at school. How about that?" Helen suggested, wishing her office assistant were that efficient.

"I can't leave Opie alone all day, and I don't think they'll let me keep him with me in school."

"Oh, piddle. Probably not. Well, you're not staying home from school all day. Dial his number and give me the phone."

As Helen discussed a time on the phone and copied down directions, Daria took Opie out of her shirt pocket and began petting him. Quinn glared spitefully at the little creature over her cereal bowl.

"So they're finally making you get rid of that nasty thing. Well, it's about time! Good ribbons to it!" She stuck out her tongue at Daria and returned to her cereal.

Waiting till Quinn had a mouth full of cereal, Daria spoke low to Opie. "That's her. Now remember what I taught you." She held the tiny possum so that he was facing Quinn. "Kill!"

Quinn made a smothered squeaky noise, dropped her spoon, and fled the kitchen.

Helen looked around at the disturbance. "Where did Quinn go?"

"I think she spilled some cereal on her shirt," Daria replied.

"Well, tell her the bus will be out front in seven minutes, and then you come out and get in the car with me. I'll take you to school after we take Opie to the rehabilitator's."

"Okay, Mom." Daria finished her cereal and went down the hall to the room she shared with Quinn. The door was closed. Daria was about to reach for the knob, half expecting it to be locked, when an idea occurred to her. She dropped to her hands and knees by the edge of the door, and lightly began scratching on it with two fingernails, while making soft little high-pitched growling noises. Hearing an "eep," the sound of running footsteps, and the squeak of bedsprings from within, Daria grinned, got up, and crept quietly back down the hall and to the door. "Hey, Quinn," she whispered as she exited the house, "You've got seven minutes to catch the bus."

~~~~~~~

Daria and Opie watched out the window of Helen's station wagon as Jake said something to the man at the desk, then handed him his car keys. Jake then walked quickly across a short stretch of asphalt and got into the front passenger seat and got in. Opie seemed to become more excited as the car began to move. Daria told him, "Better enjoy it, Opie. This might be the only time you get to ride in a car." Front paws on the windowsill, standing on Daria's hand, Opie watched fascinated as the world rolled by.

~~~~~~~

After a ride that seemed amazingly short, and hardly any formalities or conversation at all, the time had come. Daria spoke earnestly to Opie. "Have a good life, Opie. Do what the nice man tells you. Be sure to look both ways before you cross the road, and don't you even think of crossing Algonquin Street. Goodbye, Opie!" Opie licked her nose one last time. Daria gently handed him over to the man and slowly followed her parents out the door.

As the car pulled away, Daria continued to look toward the house by the highway with all the pens and the small barn in back, even though there was really nothing to see now.

Helen asked, "Are you all right, Daria?"

"Oh, sure," Daria replied. "I wanted to do the best I could for him, and I did."

Something in her voice caused Helen to look in the rearview mirror and Jake to turn around. Daria pretended to pick something up off the floor so they couldn't see her fumbling in her pocket for a tissue.

"Eww!" Daria pulled her hand out of her windbreaker and looked at it.

"What is it, Kiddo?" Jake asked.

"Look, Daddy!" Daria said, holding open her windbreaker. Opie can potty all by himself now!"

"Eww! Jake echoed. "Um, that's great, Punkin! Err, Honey, Daria's going to need a clean shirt before we drop her off at school."

Helen didn't try to turn around and look, but she did manage to free one hand long enough to smack herself in the forehead. Daria smiled. Mom was funny sometimes.

La la LA la la.