THE CUCKOO'S EGG
by Galen Hardesty
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE SQUIRRELLY BLONDES OF EARTH
~*~
Daria noticed that Helen didn't seem to be headed back the way they had come. "Where are you going?" she asked.
"Well, I took the whole day off. I thought we could walk through the mall and do some shopping, just you and me. What do you think?"
Daria stared at Helen and began to compose a reply informing her mother in great detail just what she thought of her choice of mother-daughter bonding activity, and how much she looked forward to spending her last few minutes of undrugged mental clarity window-shopping in a mall. But what was the point? In a little while, she'd probably be enjoying it. She had waited too long to order that hollow tooth containing the cyanide capsule.
"You just can't wait to see me turn into a homely version of Quinn, can you?" she asked bitterly. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and headed for the mall entrance.
Helen caught up to Daria and reached for her hand. Daria countered by going for a finger submission hold. Recognizing her peril just in time, Helen jerked her hand away. Daria pretended not to notice, plodding stolidly along, looking neither left nor right. She'd long known that Helen's reluctance to 'make a scene' in public allowed her to get away with unobtrusive little stunts like that.
Helen stopped to look at a window display of womens' shoes. Daria stopped also, but did not turn to look. She stood facing the direction they had been walking, toward the central court with its fountain, but her attention seemed to be directed inward. Helen shivered a bit.
After a minute, Helen continued on. Daria kept pace with her without seeming to see her. Once she lifted a hand and rubbed the side of her face, but her non-expression did not change. Helen stopped at another window. "What do you think of these blazers, Daria?" she asked. Daria stopped, looked at her, at the mannequins in the window, and back at her, but did not comment.
"Let's go in here and look around," Helen suggested. Daria said nothing. Helen walked on towards the store's entrance, and Daria did the same.
They entered the clothing store. Helen stopped to look through some racks of blouses by the door. Daria stood looking slowly around the store, her attention seemingly not directed at anything in particular. She moved occasionally to get out of the way of another shopper or to stay near Helen. When Helen came to a rack of blouses similar to what Daria usually wore, she saw that Daria was also looking at them, although not displaying any particular interest.
"Would you like to get some of these, Daria?" Helen asked.
"I prefer fifty percent cotton or more," Daria replied.
Helen was careful not to show it, but she was happy to get any response at all. This was the first thing Daria had said since entering the mall.
Daria had been waiting for the pill's effects to manifest. She didn't notice anything yet, but that meant little. If she was looking for changes in how her brain worked, what was she watching with? A changing brain. And what was she to measure against? Her memories of how her brain used to work? It would take a fairly gross change to become obvious against that fuzzy a yardstick, but that was all she had for now. On the other hand, the harder she watched, the more likely she was to imagine something. That way lay madness.
Daria tried to relax. She thought of going to the bookstore, but that might be too distracting. A store full of womens' clothing provided a pretty uninteresting, undistracting background. The set of colors that seemed to be "in" this season helped by being more drab and unattractive than usual. She drifted toward a display of scarves whose more pleasing colors offered a little relief to her offended color sense.
Helen had been keeping an unobtrusive eye on Daria. She seemed to be in a better mood now. She stopped to look at a display of silk scarves, lingering over some bright florals and paisleys. Helen watched, fascinated. Daria looked so like a... a normal teenage girl. When she didn't seem inclined to buy a scarf, Helen suggested "Let's go over here and look at some jackets." Daria followed her mother without comment.
"These blazers are very nice, don't you think?" Helen prompted. "You can wear them with lots of different clothes. And look, they're half off."
Daria looked at the rack of blazers. It's obvious why they're marked down, she thought. They're in last season's colors. Quinn and the fashion club wouldn't be caught dead in them. Hmm… That shade of blue-green isn't bad. There probably isn't one in my size.
Helen held her breath. Daria worked her way around the rack and pulled out a blue-green blazer. She held it up and gave it a serious look, then took it off the hangar. She removed her green jacket. Helen clamped her lips tightly shut and blinked rapidly. Daria put the blazer on, buttoned it up, and walked to a mirror. Helen could hardly believe it.
Daria regarded her reflection in the mirror. Hmm. Except for the bronze colored buttons and the tailoring, not so different from my regular jacket, just a bit dressier. The lapels are similar. It doesn't conceal my figure as well as my regular jacket though. Daria snorted in amusement. Get me, she thought. As if I'll drive guys mad with lust if they see me in this. Daria glanced at the reflection of Helen behind her. And I should probably let Mom buy me something before she wets herself.
"That looks good on you, Daria," Helen said, choosing her words carefully, "Don't you think?"
Daria turned before the mirrors, studying her reflection. "Mm… I guess." She knew she'd need new blouses to wear with it, meaning more damned shopping, and her boots… She imagined herself wearing this blazer and skirt with a mauve pullover and black zipper boots. That would look good. I don't like flimsy boots, though. Boots like these, but with higher tops, would be nice.
"You'll need some blouses to wear with it," Helen ventured.
"Mm," Daria said again, "And some different boots."
Helen's heart went pitty-pat. Dare she hope that Daria would get rid of those awful combat boots? Probably not, she thought. Not right away, anyway. But wearing something different part of the time was a step in the right direction. "The shoe department is right over here. Do you want to take a look?"
Should I put up some resistance here, just on principle? Daria wondered. Not yet, she decided. They might accidentally have something I like, and Mom's in a sky's-the-limit mood right now. "Okay," she said, and began unbuttoning the blazer.
Walking past some racks of dresses with what appeared to be integrated pinafores, they came to the shoe section. Daria's eye was caught by a pair of boots displayed on a shelf. She moved past Helen to examine them more closely. They were Dr. Martens' twenty-two hole lace-ups, with side zippers. Daria immediately began looking for a sales clerk.
Helen saw the boots, and her heart sank. "Oh, Daria, no," she pleaded. "Get something different, something more stylish."
"These are different. They are stylish. Docs have been 'in' for a long time, and they don't show any sign of going 'out' any time soon. They're very big with young people, and a lot of older people too. I've been thinking about getting some ever since Sandi Griffin stopped wearing hers."
"Daria, they're almost exactly like the ones you're wearing, except for the height."
"Not even. These," Daria lifted one of her boots and patted it "Are American-designed, American-made mil spec paratroop boots. These," she went on, indicating the Docs, "are German-designed, British-made street chic boots. About the only thing they have in common, other than the bare fact that they're lace-ups, is that they're both very comfortable and very protective of your feet. That's the basic reason they're popular."
"But they look so… clunky."
"Yes. Deliberately clunky. Over-engineered clunky. In-your-face clunky. That's the Dr. Martens image. You see, old Doc came home from the Russian front with a bad case of frostbite, and he started designing boots for himself, just so he could walk. But the boots were so comfortable that…"
"All right, Daria, all right. Maybe later. Look, I'll get you these if you'll also pick out a pair of low-quarters. Okay?"
Daria looked at Helen. Helen was starting to get disconcerted when Daria said, "Okay," and turned to look over the shoes.
"I'll just go pay for these, and I'll be right back," Helen said. Daria nodded.
In line a few minutes later, Helen turned to find Daria holding a pair of shiny black shoes with straps, and some white socks. "That was quick." She looked closely at the shoes. "Those are… are those Mary Janes?" Daria nodded. "They look sort of… clubby."
"They're Docs. They're comfortable. You know, I can't wear my size in some of those 'styles' they have here. I haven't spent years deforming my feet by shoehorning them into pointy-toed little torture devices like those you wear to work."
Helen sighed. "And I hope you don't have to, Daria, but don't be surprised if someday you do."
"It's a cruel world," Daria agreed, "but still, I'll be surprised."
As the items were being rung up, Helen turned to Daria. "What else would you like to look for, Daria?"
"Well, I was thinking bookstore and lunch, in no particular order."
"All right," Helen said, thinking that, as agreeable as Daria was being so far, after lunch they could shop for hours. "But while we're here, why don't we look at some dresses?"
Daria gave Helen a sharp look. "So that's your scheme, is it?" she snapped. "Get me stoned out of my gourd and then change my whole wardrobe? I don't think so!"
Helen was startled. "What? Where did that come from? I just want to help you pick out some nice new clothes!"
"And throw out the not-so-nice old clothes?"
"I didn't say that!"
"Of course not—one step at a time, right? Turn up the heat slowly, so the frog doesn't jump out, right?"
Helen was alarmed. She'd clearly overestimated the pill's effect on Daria, and may have triggered a backlash of some sort. If Daria got angry enough, it might totally counteract any good the pill might have done.
"Daria, I'm not going to throw out your old clothes… although you know that they're going to have to go sometime…"
"AHA! I knew it! That's it, I'm gone!" Daria grabbed her boots and headed for the exit.
Helen grabbed Daria's arm. "Daria! What's gotten into you? I said I'm not going to throw out any of your old clothes!"
"Old clothes. I see. You buy me a jacket and a pair of socks, and they become my new clothes, and automatically, everything else I own becomes old clothes! Oh, that's devious, even for you! Well, if that's your game, take all this stuff back. I don't want it!"
"Daria, stop it! I told you I'm not trying to get rid of your o- of any of your clothes."
"Oh, you're going to let Quinn do it? She'd love to."
"No!"
"Or tell Dad to do it?"
"No, Daria!"
"And you're not going to twist my arm to get me to do it?"
"No, Daria. You can keep every article of clothing you own for as long as you want."
"Promise?"
"I promise!"
"Okay." Daria walked over to a rack and pulled out a light blue dress with a white faux pinafore sewn into it.
Startled, Helen asked, "What are you doing?"
"You said you wanted me to look at some dresses, didn't you? That's what I'm doing. Hand me those socks and Mary Janes."
At a loss for words, Helen held out the sack containing the items. Daria grabbed it and disappeared into the changing booth. What just happened? she wondered. Daria had seemed to be calm and fairly co-operative, and the next minute she was totally paranoid, accusing me of having designs on her wardrobe. Not that I wouldn't love to throw those ugly outfits in the trash, or on a fire, but I'm not fool enough to actually do it. And then she switched right back to calm and co-operative again, just like switching a light on and off. Could it be because she's still angry about having to take the pills?
Daria emerged from the dressing room. She wore the Mary Jane shoes, white knee socks, and the light blue dress with white pinafore. Helen instantly thought, 'Alice In Wonderland.'
Daria went over and stood before the mirror, and examined her reflection. She smiled and turned this way and that, and said, in a little-girl voice,
"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!
Up above the world you fly,
Like a tea-tray in the sky. "
Then she giggled and curtsied to herself.
Daria had obviously made the same association. Helen couldn't help smiling. She went to stand beside her. "It's so nice to see you smile, Daria. Now, don't you feel better?"
Daria grinned at Helen.
"How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!
How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spread his claws,
And welcome little fishes in
With gently smiling jaws!"
She recited, and then grabbed Helen's forearm and bit it.
"Ow! exclaimed Helen, surprised rather than hurt, "Daria!"
Daria giggled again and ran back into the dressing room.
Helen noticed with embarrassment that several of the store's other patrons were staring at her. She went to the dressing room, opened the door, took Daria by the hand, and pulled her out.
"Daria, behave yourself!" she said, her voice low but emphatic. "You're making a scene!"
Grinning mischievously, Daria replied,
"Speak roughly to your little boy,
And beat him when he sneezes:
He only does it to annoy,
Because he knows it teases."
Then, watching herself in the mirror and holding Helen's hand over her head, she did a pirouette, ending by staggering into Helen and almost knocking her down. This seemed to strike her as hilarious, and she broke out laughing.
Helen was flabbergasted. This was not at all like Daria. She hadn't acted like this since—No, she was thinking of Quinn when she was a little girl. Daria had never acted like this. What the hell was wrong with her?
Belatedly, it occurred to Helen that Daria might be having some sort of adverse reaction to the antidepressant pill she had taken. As soon as she thought it, she realized that had to be it, and cursed herself for not realizing it sooner. She had to get Daria out of here and back to Doctor Drake.
"Daria? Daria! I think we should leave now, sweetie. Why don't you…" she began.
"Okay!" Daria replied brightly, and ran out of the store, several tags flapping gaily from the dress she wore. Alarms sounded as she ran through the door into the mall.
A sales clerk walked up to Helen, frowning toward the exit. "Ma'am, the young lady has left the store without paying for the dress she's wearing."
Helen turned from the door to the clerk, thinking seriously unkind thoughts about her intellectual wattage. She bit off a sarcastic remark Daria would've been proud of and thrust her packages into the clerk's arms. Handing her a business card, she said, "Hold these till I get back. I have to go get her," and hurried out of the store. The clerk was about to shout something after her, but happened to spot 'attorney at law' on the card, and changed her mind.
Head swiveling back and forth, Helen headed down the mall toward the fountain court. There was no sign of Daria anywhere. Visions of malpractice torts danced in her head as she stalked along, muttering hair-curling imprecations.
Shafts of sunlight sparkled off streams and sprays of water issuing from the many-orificed bronze fountain, and unhappy men holding down benches round about alternately gazed at its many whimsical figures and searched in vain for their credit-card bearing spouses. Helen stopped at the edge of its pool and looked down the other mall corridors that met here. She was about to pick a man at random and ask him if he'd seen Daria when the high-pitched giggling and shrieking of children echoing down the north corridor drew her attention.
On a hunch, or maybe a bad feeling, Helen headed toward the sounds. Children were converging on a store about halfway along the corridor. The sounds of hilarity seemed to be coming from inside the store, and they seemed to be getting louder. Suddenly a small flock of colorful birds burst out of the store and flew off in several directions, accompanied by multiple shouts of childish glee. A figure in a dress that could have been Daria emerged and skipped across the corridor into another store, followed by a herd of house apes. Helen increased her pace.
Sounds of merriment floated out of the store as more kids streamed in, then Daria emerged, followed by a gesticulating man, and the swarm of kids. He waved his arms and shook his fist, and she replied with a razzberry and moose antlers. Several kids ran past Helen carrying what might have been Fuzzy Wuzzy Wee Bits.
As Helen closed the range on Daria, the latter seemed to be singing something, and dancing a bit to the music. The smaller children in her troop were dancing, too. A little closer, and Helen could make out
"… an onion patch.
"I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch,
And all I do is cry all day!"
As Daria reached the last line, she mimed knuckling her eyes, and the smaller children imitated this too. Older kids hung back, but watched amusedly. Helen was surprised to find herself getting misty-eyed. That was just the way she'd taught it to Daria, many years ago. Daria hadn't sung that song since she was three years old. Helen was surprised that she remembered it at all.
Daria's back was turned to Helen's approach, but she didn't seem very surprised when a hand grabbed her upper arm. "Oh! Oh, help! Captain Hook's got me!" she cried melodramatically. "Oh Peter, save me!"
"Come on, Daria, sweetie, we need to go now," Helen said in the most soothing voice she could manage, while keeping a firm grip on Daria's arm and pulling her back the way they'd come. A chorus of boos and laughter came from the kids trailing along behind.
"You may think you've got me now, you bad ol' pirate, but Peter will save me!" Daria proclaimed confidently. She wasn't putting up any resistance, though, for which Helen was grateful. The children chorused, "Yeah!" and searched the air above them for signs of Peter Pan's coming.
As they passed the fountain, Daria suddenly jerked her arm free of Helen's grasp and cried, "Oh, look. Pennies!" Quick as a bunny, she hopped into the pool, waded out toward the center, and started picking them up, and was soon surrounded by many of her entourage of mall apes. Helen called to her from the pool's edge, but to no avail. There were now quite a few other adults in the fountain court, searching for or calling to their children with variable success, or just watching the ruckus with various combinations of amusement and annoyance, and their number was growing. Helen began to worry that she might be pushed into the pool by the crowd. When she noticed a couple of mall security guards on the periphery talking into their walkie-talkies, she suddenly had something else to worry about.
Some distance around the pool's rim, Charles Ruttheimer III was also conscious of the gathering crowd as he did his best to record Daria's babbling and singing on his microcasette recorder. The crowd noise might drown her out, and the people around the edge of the pool kept him from maneuvering for position for a panty shot as she bent over to pick up coins.
Daria saw him standing there and pointed at him. "Hey, it's Chuckles Ruttmonger, the hundering third! Hiya, Chuckles!"
Caught off guard by the greeting, Charles smiled and waved. Several of the children hollered, "Hiya , Chuckles!"
Daria's attention was caught by something on the fountain. "Oh, look! A frog!" she said, as if to herself. I wonder if it'll turn into a handsome prince if I kiss it?" She received a chorus of enthusiastic "yeah!s in reply.
Splashing over to where the bronze frog sat on its bronze toadstool, a fat stream of water issuing from its mouth, Daria attempted to put a liplock on it, with the result that her cheeks bulged out ridiculously and the water sprayed everywhere. The mall apes howled in delight.
Meanwhile, Jane and Trent Lane were passing the food court on their way to a music shop Trent occasionally browsed. Trent looked at his sister. "What's wrong, Janey?" he asked.
"Nothin'," she replied, glancing idly at a pretzel stand.
"Come on."
"Oh, Daria was supposed to see a neurologist today. I'm just wondering how that went."
"A neurologist? What's wrong with her?" Trent asked,a trace of worry in his tone.
"I guess you could say it's a hereditary problem," Jane reflected.
"What kind of hereditary problem?"
"Her parents are insane and they're apparently trying to pass it on to her."
"Hmph," mused Trent, "Our parents are insane too, but they… what's that?"
"Sounds like a mini-riot down that way. Let's go check it out," Jane said as she increased her pace.
As they neared the fountain court, Jane saw a figure in a light blue dress who seemed to be attempting to climb the fountain. She was about to make an observation on the stupidity of such an attempt when the figure turned its head, and Jane saw who it was. "That's Daria!" she cried out, and began working her way toward the fountain as fast as she could. After a second, Trent joined her.
Arriving at poolside, Jane viewed with alarm Daria's totally un-Daria-like behavior. "Remind me never to go to a neurologist," she thought as she called out to Daria on the fountain. "Hey, Daria! Earth to Daria!"
Jane's voice caught Daria's attention. Gripping a bronze squirrel, she turned to Jane and said,
"O, I have split the squirrelly blondes of earth,
and danced with flies on splattered water wings!
Moonward I've howled, and hugged the grumbling Smurf
And kissed a frog, and ate a thousand things
You'd never dream of."
Most of the kids were listening to Daria's impromptu recital. Trent stood transfixed, as if listening to the reincarnation of one of the great Beatnik poets of the Golden Age. Daria had begun to climb the fountain statue, an overly busy thing resembling a stylized tree growing atop a rugged rock, infested with cute animals and fairy tale characters, most of them spouting water from some orifice or other. She seemed to be seeking a high podium to declaim from.
Helen was horrified to see her obviously impaired daughter climbing the slippery bronze monstrosity. "Someone get her down before she hurts herself!" she cried.
Charles Ruttheimer made an effort to climb the thing, but his foot slipped, and he could not stop himself from cracking his chin painfully and sliding into the pool. It was several seconds before he regained his feet, and he staggered as if he'd gotten his bell rung.
Daria had somehow managed to get a one-handed grip on the Cheshire Cat figure's tail, and she gestured grandly to her growing audience with the other hand.
"High on the spotlit wetness hanging there
I've chased the pouting Quinn away, and flung
My screaming ass through footloose falls of air…"
At this, Daria either lost or relinquished her grip on the fountain and plunged several feet, into the more-or-less waiting arms of Trent and Charles. They broke her fall, but all three collapsed into the penny pool with a great splash, to the enthusiastic applause of her audience.
Daria managed to get to her feet while Trent and Upchuck were still floundering. Wet as a mad hen, she waded to the edge of the pool, put a foot on the rim, made a sweeping gesture, and continued,
"Up, up the endless stairs to level two,
I've hopped the unswept flight with sweaty face
Where never shark, nor even weasel flew;
put out my hand… and touched the face… of Mom."
So saying, Daria reached out and laid her palm on Helen's cheek. Helen couldn't help smiling, but she also took a firm grip on Daria's wrist.
A man in a suit with a Lawndale Mall pin over the pocket, identifying him as Thomas Thorne, approached Helen and held out a cell phone toward her. "Ma'am, the mall manager wishes to speak with you a minute," he said.
With a sinking feeling, Helen took the phone. "Yes?" she said. She paused, listening, then said "yes," paused again, said, "very well," then "Yes, I will," then handed the phone back.
Helen turned to Daria, Jane, and Trent. "They want us to get Daria out of the mall as soon as possible to minimize further disturbance," she said. "I heartily concur. Jane, Trent, would you two help me get Daria back to the Doctor's office?
"Sure," Jane said. Trent nodded.
This way," she pointed to a nearby mall entrance.
"No, wait!" Daria exclaimed, "I've got another one!"
"Another time, Daria," said Helen, taking hold of Daria's arm.
"No! No! I've got a million of 'em," she cried out, and broke free of Helen's grip. Jane and Trent each grabbed her by an arm.
"Come on, Longfellow, save some for the anthology," Jane said.
"You scurvy dogs! Peter Pan is gonna swoop down and cut you all to pieces!"
"Can you carry her?" Helen asked them.
"Allow me to assist," said Upchuck. He bent down and picked up Daria's feet.
"Hey!" said Daria.
Helen looked unsure for a second, but he was holding her legs together, and they did need a third person. She said, "Come on," and pushed open a door. Security men hurried to open the outer doors and hold them. Helen led the way, and Jane, Trent, and Upchuck carried Daria bodily out of the mall.
"Chuckles! Chuckles!" Daria cried out suddenly.
"Uh… yes, Daria?" he replied.
"Can you see my panties?" she asked.
This caught him off guard. "Uhh, no. I can't."
"Omigosh! Quick! Check and make sure I'm wearing some!" Daria shot back, wide-eyed.
Trent gave Upchuck a look that would stop a ghetto blaster. "Don't even think about it, dude."
"N-n-not even," Upchuck agreed.
"Switch with me," Jane ordered.
Chuck put Daria's feet down on the pavement. "I can walk," Daria said, a bit peeved.
"We're almost there," said Helen, hurrying ahead to unlock her car.
"I wander if Daria will remember all this," muttered Jane.
This set Daria off again.
o/ "So remember me in April, when Spring is in the air, And the bald-headed birds are whispering everywhere,
And you see them walking southward in their dirty underwear…" o/ "Hey, is my underwear clean?
Helen held the door open. "Get her in here, quick."
Jane half-helped, half- stuffed Daria into the front passenger seat, then got in behind her. Trent hesitated, but Jane gestured to him to get in, so he did. Helen started backing out as soon as his door was closed, and they headed out of the parking lot, leaving Upchuck standing there bemused and dripping wet, and trailing a few die-hard Daria fans.