KIDNAPPED
Chapter Four
Let's Make A Deal
…..

Finished. Daria saved her work as 'Red Star Bleeding sentAbi', modified a copy of the cover letter she'd used for Blood Oath, zipped and attached a copy of the novel, and emailed it off to Abigail Huntington. Sighing gustily, she went limp in her chair.

"Finished?"

"Aaah!"

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Are you finished with the important thing?" Quinn was standing in the doorway, where she'd evidently been for some time, looking for all the world as if she had no intention of inducing heart failure in her sister.

"Yes, I'm finished. What did Mom say?"

"After I finally got to talk to her, she said that Wanda, that's their PR person, was very busy on something, and that she'd ask her about my problem when she could, but she didn't know when that would be, and that she was very busy today too and she'd probably be home late and we should warm up some leftovers."

"Pizza?"

"Sounds good. But it sounds like Wanda isn't going to be much help. Isn't there anything else we can do?"

"Hmm, maybe. I didn't want to do this, but it looks like our best option at this point."

"What?"

"I'm going to call a press conference."

"Eep! Are you sure?"

Daria got up and walked to the door. "I have an idea how I can ease into it, sort of test the waters."

"Um, well, if you think so. We need to do something."

"I'll just straighten my hair a little, and you can watch on TV while you order the pizza. I like pepperoni and sausage, and Dad likes Garbage."

"Hee. I'll help you with your hair. You should let me make you up."

"Uh, I don't think so."

"You need to wear enough makeup so that it looks like you're not wearing any, Daria."

"Hmm, tell you what. I'm just going out for a few seconds the first time, and when I come back in, I'll let you make me up a little for the actual conference. I decide whether I'll keep it, though."

"Fair enough."

…..

Daria opened the front door and stepped put. A hush fell over the street. She strode purposefully down the walk toward the curb. The minions of the media were arrayed just beyond it, held at bay by fear of Helen. There arose a mighty arglebargle of questions.

Daria stopped a few feet from the curb and raised her hands, one of which held a legal pad. Not-quite-silence fell. She said, "I will answer ten questions."

There arose a second mighty arglebargle of questions. Daria silently counted to ten and then raised her hands again. "These are the rules. You all get together and select the ten questions you want me to answer, and write them on this legal pad. Then oneof you comes to the door and hands them to me. I will read over them inside, and then come out and answer them. The response 'I'm not going to answer that question' counts as an answer. So think of the questions you most want me to answer before your cameras, and then write down the questions you think I'm most likely to answer. Understood?"

A babble arose, the gist of which seemed to be that ten questions wasn't enough. Daria waited a few seconds and then raised her hands again. "Ten questions is enough for now. I'll see how it goes, and if you people don't trash what's left of my reputation, I might take more questions later." She stepped forward and handed the legal pad and a pencil to a woman holding a microphone. As she turned and headed back up the sidewalk, the clamor of questions and protestations arose again. She turned and said, "Here are four free answers. My name is Daria Morgendorffer, I live here, I'm seventeen, and I'm a senior at Lawndale High." She turned, walked up the sidewalk, and into the house.

…..

Daria sat crosslegged on a love seat, studying the ten questions on the legal pad, and half listening to SNN news. Three talking heads were discussing her brief appearance of a few minutes ago. One was accusing her of trying to 'manage the news', a second was saying that the first, and others like her, was just peeved because Daria had shown a little 'spunk' and not just rolled over for the media, and the third was egging them both on. He concluded by saying that they would cut back as soon as there were any developments in this "breaking story".

"Wow, Daria, how does it feel to know that the whole world is waiting for you to walk out that door again?" Quinn asked.

Daria snorted delicately. "Well, if I'm the top "breaking story", it would seem to mean that the rest of the world is in pretty good shape at the moment," she replied. "But since I know that's not the case, it must mean that these guys have no sense of proportion."

"So what should the top story be?"

"Oh, global warming, AIDS, SARS, killer asteroids, slavery, fire ants, kudzu... I'd say any number of things are more important than when I'll go outside and whether I'll see my shadow."

"Maybe they're more important, but you're more interesting. You're what the people want to see. Make good use of your fifteen minutes of fame, Daria."

"Huh. Aunt Amy said something like that." Daria returned her attention to the list of questions. It amused her slightly that there were another ten questions on the sheet below it, headed 'spare questions'. In case one or more of the first ten went flat, she supposed. But there was a clear pattern here, among all the questions, that told her she needed to deviate from the rules she'd just laid down. What will the pundits opine about that, she wondered. She slipped a red felt tip marker into her pocket and rose.

"Here we go. Roll tape." Legal pad in hand, Daria headed for the front door.

Quinn slipped a video cassette into the VCR. "Good luck. I mean, break a leg," she said.

Daria smiled wryly as she opened the door. Way to go. You managed to jinx me either way. Good thing I'm not superstitious, knock wood.

Daria walked down toward the crowd at the curb. They hoisted big videocameras to their shoulders, aimed mikes, and some turned on fill lights. Behind them, jogging up the street, a red-jacketed figure caught Daria's eye. She suppressed a smile as Jane arrived and insinuated herself into the back of the crowd, grinning like a possum under a persimmon tree. Come to see me knock 'em dead, Jane? Or make a fool of myself on live worldwide TV? Great entertainment either way, right, amiga? Jane never took her completely seriously, and Daria found that strangely comforting.

Someone set a stand on the sidewalk where Daria had stood last time. It had at least forty microphones and microcassette recorders clipped, taped, or otherwise fastened to it. A hubbub of questions arose as Daria approached it. Daria raised her hands for silence, and got it. Jane's grin widened.

"Having read your ten questions," Daria placed a tiny emphasis on 'ten' and paused, which elicited some nervous laughter, "and your set of 'spare questions'", more laughter, "I see I need to do something other than just answer them." Groans ensued. Jane's grin got painfully wide. "So I'm going to start off by briefly describing the events of last Saturday morning, from my viewpoint. This will answer most of the first ten questions, and some of the second ten, and others you didn't ask. After that, I will answer the rest of the first ten questions."

This brought on a general murmur of approval, and a couple of faint 'yays'.

"Last Saturday morning, I was hired to babysit two young children for a couple of hours. I had almost reached their house when..."

"...and forced us all to take off our clothes, and then locked us in the bathroom. I believed that he almost certainly intended to kill the children, so I broke out of the bathroom using the lid from the toilet tank. I ran out into the parking lot just as he was about to leave, and was able to render him unconscious with the toilet tank lid before he could bring up his gun and shoot me. Shortly after that the police arrived."

Daria paused for breath, and Jane began clapping hard. Other spectators in the rear of the media pack took it up, and a couple of whistles were heard. A few of the media picked it up, and at some point peer pressure reached critical mass and everyone who didn't have his or her hands full began to clap. Jane grinned delightedly.

As the applause began to die down, Daria waved the legal pad in the air and quiet returned. "Okay, as for the rest of these questions," she said, checking off several with the red felt tip pen, "Question four: How did you feel when you saw the motel room door close, and also when the other girls wouldn't let you back in?" She took a breath and exhaled. "I almost decided not to answer this one. I always hate it when I see someone on TV who's just had something bad happen to him, and someone runs up and sticks a mike and a camera in his face and says 'How do you feel?' But I will. I felt pretty bad. I was terribly embarrassed. And when they wouldn't open the door, I felt really low. But I can't blame them for not opening the door. They were pulling their clothes out from under the bed and trying to get dressed, and they didn't know what was happening outside. For all they knew, the first person to open the door would be shot.

"Question five: Who are these other girls? I don't think it's my place to identify them. I'll let them introduce themselves if they want to. Suffice it to say that they are also high school students who knew me well enough that when they saw me drive by, they realized that the car and the cell phone weren't mine, and they followed me out of curiosity and a feeling that something wasn't quite right."

"Question eight: Weren't you frightened when you ran out that door to face an armed kidnapper? Yes! I was frightened the whole time, and when I ran out the door I was terrified. I felt like the common sense part of me was locked up in the back of my head somewhere, screaming its lungs out. It couldn't believe I was doing that."

Daria checked these questions off, and folded back the top sheet of paper. "There's a question on this second sheet that I'd like to answer. 'How do you feel about the repeated airing of the tape segment of you in the parking lot naked?' I don't like it. I'm not an exhibitionistist. I didn't do that out of choice. I did it because I felt I had to to save those children. I'm actually a shy, modest person, and I hate seeing that tape shown over and over, and being powerless to do anything about it. I don't have any law to propose that would stop media abuse of innocent citizens, and maybe there shouldn't be such a law. I don't know. It just seems to me that at some point, you should stop showing it out of common decency." She checked off the question, handed the pad to one of the media people, and turned back to the house.

…..

Jane caught up with Daria as she walked back up her front walk. "You give good press conference, Morgendorffer. Where'd you learn that?"

"Eh, I just took advantage of the fact that they're desperate for anything from me. You know, now that they see us together after you led the cheering, they're gonna figure you're my paid shill."

"I am. You're paying me in pizza, remember?"

Daria opened the door. "Oh, yeah. Well, come on in, shill, and let's catch the instant replay while we're waiting for your payoff to get here."

They walked over and sat on the sofa. Quinn was watching TV from the far love seat as the opinionati began to analyze Daria's press conference. "You looked good out there, Daria," she said.

Daria smiled. "Well, it's all in the..."

"You see, that's what just the right makeup can do for you," Quinn concluded.

Daria looked at Quinn for a second before saying, "Oh, I see." Jane smirked but said nothing.

The phone rang. Apprehensively, Daria picked it up and said, "Hello?"

"This is Abigail Huntington. Daria Morgendorffer?"

"Speaking."

"Daria, I just finished reading 'Blood Oath Of Patriots' and I want to publish it. I'm going to offer you the contract I offer my established authors, basically a fifty thousand advance against seven percent of sales. I've emailed you a contract, but I'm recommending you get an agent."

"An agent?"

"Yes. You see, I want the North American book rights to your book, but you're also going to be trying to sell various overseas rights, ancillary rights, and particularly, movie rights."

"M" Daria's voice came out as a choked squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Movie rights? You think?"

"Blood Oath' is just the kind of book the major Hollywood studios buy to make into a movie. I'd say there was a better than even chance someone will want the movie rights, and every evil thing you've ever heard about Hollywood contracts is true. You'll absolutely need an experienced agent to deal with those people. I sent you a list of four agents who represent authors of similar books, know the ropes in Hollywood, and whom I consider trustworthy. I also sent you the addresses of some websites where you can find other agents."

"Uh, thanks..."

"That's not to say they'll actually produce it. They buy or option the rights to twenty or more books for every one that gets made."

"Oh."

"And another thing. I recommend you think about getting a publicist. Your agent can help you with that."

"...A p...publicist?"

"Yes. I'm watching your press conference right now, and it looks to me like you did very well, but the way you handle yourself and interact with the media right now, while the spotlight is still on you, will make a big difference in your future book sales, and in how badly the big studios are going to want it. You need someone to be getting you interviews on the news shows and later, on the late-night talk shows and stuff like that. Go look at what I sent you, Daria, and I'll go start reading 'Red Star Bleeding."

Jane was watching Daria and trying unsuccessfully to guess at the other end of the conversation she was having. It wouldn't be accurate to say that Daria wore a strange expression, but something seemed to be placing a strain on her poker face. Daria hung up the phone. Jane was about to ask a question when she jumped up and ran upstairs. Jane sat there gawking, then shut her mouth and did likewise.

…..

Jane ran down the hallway and halted halfway into Daria's bedroom. Daria was seated at her desk waiting impatiently for her computer to boot up. Her fists were making minute pounding motions on her desktop.

"What's up?"

"Contract."

"Contract?"

"Book contract."

Jane stepped forward as Daria seized her mouse and began zipping and clicking it rapidly. Jane managed to identify an email on the monitor screen just before Daria began scrolling through it at a speed she'd swear no mortal man could read. But Daria's eyes were locked onto the monitor. Suddenly the scrolling stopped, her finger flew to the screen and she inhaled sharply. Jane looked closer. Right above Daria's fingernail was the figure 50,000.00.

"Omigosh! Someone wants to give you fifty large for your book? Who? Are you gonna take it?"

"The woman I talked to on the phone in Chuck's car. That's the advance she's offering. Damn, she must read faster than I do."

"Advance? You mean you'll actually get more? How much?"

"Don't know. What they're actually offering me is seven percent of sales, however much that might be."

"Well, what do you think? Is that a fair offer or a ripoff?"

"It's a better offer than I ever thought I'd get for my first book. See, unpublished authors are almost never offered that big an advance. It means that, for some reason, they're almost sure they can sell more than, ummm... 715,000 copies. No, no, that's not right. 89 thousand something copies, figuring an eight dollar paperback. That's a lot of books." Daria stared at the screen, marveling at the thought. "A lot of books. And she thinks Blood Oath can do it."

Jane forebore to comment on Daria doing her human calculator thing. It gave her the creeps, but no more than the extreme speedreading. "Think it has anything to do with your recent and current appearance on the news?"

Daria snorted. "Of course. It has everything to do with it. Ms. Huntington figures I'll be getting interviewed, and doing appearances on talk shows, and I'll be able to plug the book. She said I need a publicist to help me do that. Yikes."

"Yikes indeed. This is happening kinda fast."

"Yeah. Aunt Amy said I should use my notoriety. Looks like she was right."

Jane watched as Daria scanned through more of what the editor had sent her for a minute, then asked, "So do you trust this person? Are you going to go with her recommendations?"

Daria continued to study the screen. "I basically trust her, because what she wants from me is a series of books, each one selling more copies than the last as my popularity grows. That's what an editor hopes for every time she begins a relationship with an author. If she cheated me or did me wrong some other way, the most she'd get would be one book. And these websites are places I'd've gone to sooner or later anyway looking for info on how to find a good agent. But let's put this aside for a moment..." Daria brought up the familiar Gargle screen, typed in "literary agents" and clicked the search button. A pageful of results popped up. Daria's cursor lit on an entry halfway down. "Ah. 'Hints on avoiding dishonest, incompetent, and marginal literary agents,' and it's on a Writers' Association website, so it should be trustworthy. Ya gotta love search engines."

ooooo

Several minutes later, the doorbell rang, followed by Quinn calling out, "Daria! Pizza's here! You got the money?"

Daria put her computer in sleep mode, grabbed some money, and they came downstairs. As the pizza guy was leaving, Daria saw Jake arrive at the end of the driveway and begin laying on his horn. Daria was glad he had his windows rolled up, and hoped none of the media people could read lips.

They were just finishing their first pieces of pizza when Helen came in, somewhat earlier than expected. She frowned slightly when she saw the pizza boxes. "Jake, I told the girls to warm up some leftovers." Jake got a 'guilty of being male' look, but Daria said, "Dad's innocent. I'll take the rap for this one."

"Daria, we eat out or order out too much as it is. I'm not made of money, you know, and neither is your father."

Daria smiled. "It's on me."

Helen's look changed to a wry smile. "That's nice, but it won't really be 'on you' until you have a job and are earning your own money."

Daria's smile got bigger. She got up and handed Helen a few sheets of paper from the counter. When Helen looked puzzled, she pointed to a figure halfway down one sheet. Helen's eyes widened and she staggered back a half-step to lean against the end of the counter. Daria took a loose grip on her elbow just in case. She noticed that Jane was grinning around a slice of pizza.

Helen quickly scanned the document. "This is a book contract."

"Yep."

"You haven't signed it," Helen said with some relief.

"No, but that figure kind of puts a floor under what the book is worth."

"This is the book that your father and I read a few months back?"

"Yep."

"I... I don't know what to say..."

"Have a seat. Have some pizza."

"Hey, what's going on? Why wasn't I told?" Jake demanded.

Daria handed him the contract printout. "I was just waiting for Mom to get home so I could tell everybody at once."

"What about me?" said Quinn.

"You were here when the call came in, but here it is in a nutshell. Quinn, I'm going to be rich and famous before you."

Quinn looked stricken. "Mo-om! Daria's ruining my li..." she glanced from Helen, who was starting to frown at her, to Daria and Jane, who were smirking, to Jake, who looked puzzled, back to Helen. "You can't let..."

"See," Daria said to Jane, "I told you she'd be happy for me."

Quinn stared into her plate, her head in her hands. "Oh, freaking great. Not only is school avast with nasty rumors about me, not only is my reputation trampled in the tarnish, now my nerdy sister is world famous and about to get famouser, and rich into the bargain bin. My life is doodoo!"

Daria said, "Oh, yeah, Mom, did you get to talk to Wanda about those rumors?"

"Briefly. She called them 'mushrumors' because they grow in the dark, where the light of facts doesn't hit them. She says they'll disappear when the facts come out. Which reminds me, she saw your news conference and said you did very well. She said she couldn't have handled the media any better herself. I wish I'd gotten to see it."

"Another bouquet of posies for Daria," Quinn groused.

Daria frowned. "Quinn, are you forgetting that the reason I did that press conference was to get some facts out and squash those rumors? I was doing it for you."

Quinn looked unhappily down at the floor and didn't say anything.

"What's this about a press conference?" Jake asked, nibbling on a jalapeño pepper.

"I answered some questions for the media about the kidnapping," Daria replied. "Quinn taped it."

"I don't understand why you're having so much more trouble with these rumors than Daria is, Quinn," said Helen.

Daria got an annoyed look, but before she could say anything, Jane spoke up. "She isn't, Mrs. M. Daria got it twice as bad all day long. It would've been even worse if she hadn't decked those two neanderthals first thing this morning."

"She what!"

Jake said, "Oh, yeah, right after you dropped her off, honey, out in front of the school. Didn't you see it? They've been showing it all day!" He smiled at Daria. "I'm proud of you, kiddo! I just wish I'd been there to do it myself!"

"Jake! We're not raising our daughters to go around assaulting people!"

"You wouldn't say that if you'd heard what they said to her! She did the right thing, Helen. And she did it so well!" Jake beamed.

Helen gave Jake, then Daria, a skeptical look, then shook her head. "Well, I'll catch up with the latest adventures of Captain Video here later." She sat down and selected a slice of pizza. "Right now I'm hungry."

Daria took a sip of her soda and helped herself to another slice. "Oh, Jane, don't let me forget, I owe Jodie an interview."

"What's this?" Helen asked.

"For the school paper. She said she'd email me the questions. I need to send her the answers tonight so she can get them into the next edition of the Lowdown. And then I need to do more reading up on... on second thought, I'm going to give myself the rest of the night off. I'll worry about finding an agent and everything else tomorrow."

"You'll consult with your mother and me before you do anything, won't you? I am a professional consultant, after all." Jake said.

"Yes, Dad, I will."

"I can't believe you had to fight your way into that school," Helen said. "I hate to drop you off alone there tomorrow."

"When we walk to school together I always keep the riffraff off her," said Jane.

Daria cocked an eyebrow at her. "Yeah, I always feel much safer when you're around, Jane," she said sardonically. "Could you possibly sleep over and ride to school with me in the morning?"

"Good thing I'm wearing my high boots," Jane muttered so low that only Daria could hear her. In a normal voice she said, "Sure, I guess I could, if I go back to the house and get some stuff, and if it's okay with your folks."

"You bet, Jane-o! You're always welcome here!" Jake said.

"Oh goody, we'll have such fun," Daria said mock enthusiastically. "We'll tell scary stories and give Quinn a makeover."

"Eek! Over my dead body!"

"A full dead body makeover it is,then," Jane smirked.

"Eewww! Mo-om!"

"I'm trying to eat here," Helen complained.

"So, uh, Kiddo, what are you planning to do tomorrow?" Jake asked.

"Research. I need to find a good agent as soon as possible. I'll probably need to go to the library and/or a bookstore in addition to searching the Internet."

"Ah. So, uh, you're not going to be whacking anyone else on TV?"

"I certainly hope not."

"That's good. And, um, you're not going to be giving any more press conferences?"

"Well, I was thinking I might answer a few more questions if the media hasn't been twisting the answers I already gave them all out of shape. But then I thought maybe it would be better to wait and ask my agent, if I can get one pretty soon."

"But you'll consult with us first."

"Of course, Dad."

Jane covered a burp with her napkin, finished her drink, and stood. "Well, guess I'll run over to the house and get my jammies and stuff, if I can get past the hungry hordes out there."

"I'll be glad to run you over," Jake said.

"Uhh, exactly how does he mean that?" Jane stage whispered to Daria.

Smiling slightly, Daria replied, "I'm pretty sure he means with you inside the car, rather than under it. I'll ride along and bring Trent some pizza."

"Take it all," said Helen.

"All of it? Then what'll we have for breakfast?"Daria asked.

"Yeah!" Jane smirked.

"We'll have breakfast food, like normal people," Helen said disapprovingly.

"Hmph. Well, at least Trent will get a good breakfast," Daria picked up the pizza boxes and they left via the side patio door.

ooooo

Daria lay in her bed staring up at the cracks in the ceiling, which she couldn't see in the dark. There was a faint rustling from the floor, then: "So how does it feel?"

Daria smiled invisibly. "A little saggy in the middle, and there's a bit of a lump under my right shoulder."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"My cheap mattress. What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about success and fame as an author, dingbat!"

"How would I know that? I haven't even signed a contract, much less seen a review or done a book signing."

"But you've got an offer, a damn good offer according to you. Even if you sign it as is, no dickering, you get a buttload of money and they print trainloads of your book, right? You're already over the toughest hurdle, right?"

"Hmf. I wish. Well, I guess you could say that I'm over the easiest half of the toughest hurdle. The tough part comes when the book hits the stores. People have to actually pick it up off the shelf, pull out their money, and pay for it. If that happens, they'll let me try and do it again."

"But your editor thinks that's pretty much a slam dunk, right? You said she must be pretty sure it'll sell, what, ninety thousand or more?"

Daria sighed. She could feel goosebumps starting to form. "Yeah, she thinks so, but editors are often wrong. You know how many books make it into print but don't break even? Nine out of ten. And most of 'em are damn good books, too. I have a shelf full of 'em from the bargain bins at Books By The Ton."

"Nine out of ten? Damn. How does the publishing industry stay afloat?"

"Just barely."

"Geez, I didn't know writing was such a tough business."

"Oh, yeah. Better books than Blood Oath have ended up in those bargain bins, and better authors than me have ended up bitter drunks and burnouts."

"Damn, Daria! You sound like you're ready to throw in the towel already!"

"Well, I'm not. I"m gonna use every trick I know, fair and foul, and I'm gonna learn a lot more, and use them too. I'm gonna milk my fleeting notoriety for all it's worth, and I'm gonna flog Blood Oath every chance I get, till it either goes big or drops dead. And even if it does wind up on the remainder table, I'll take a thousand copies, and I'll sell 'em on my website, and I'll give 'em to everyone I know for Christmas, and I'll sell 'em on the street corner if I have to."

"Ah, now that's more like the Daria Morgendorffer we all know and fear. Mad as a hatter!"

"It's hereditary. Now go to sleep so I can sneak up on you with this hatchet."

ooooo

"Well, there goes another hour of my life that I can never get back," Daria remarked as they exited Ms. Barch's science lab.

"Look on the bright side. One less hour we'll have to put up with the harpy," Jane rejoined. "Ready to endure the horrors of government-inflicted nutrition?"

"I want to talk to Quinn for a second first. She always visits her locker before PE class. I'll see you at the table."

"Naah, I'll just trail along. It's not like I can't wait to sink my teeth into the lowest-bidder mystery meat."

"Stop. You're making me drool."

Ahead they could see Quinn dialing in her locker combination as Stacy stood by, glancing anxiously around. As they approached, Stacy spotted them and moved to keep Quinn between herself and Daria. Quinn opened the locker, then looked up to see what had spooked Stacy this time. Frowning, she shoved her backpack in and closed the locker.

"What do you want?" Quinn muttered.

"To find out what rumors you're hearing today," said Daria.

"They've pretty much dried up. There was this one dimwit saying something about Arab slavers, but when we cornered him and demanded details, he couldn't say who was supposed to be selling whom to who, or whatever. What we have been getting is just about every guy in school asking us if we were really naked in that motel room. It's creepy and stupid."

"Which is also a pretty good description of just about every guy in school," Jane pointed out.

"I guess you could say that. Looks to me like your press conference yesterday helped, Daria. How about you?"

"Similar. No more rumor problem, but now all the guys are wanting autographs."

Quinn frowned. "Oh, yeah, that's right, you're world famous. Thanks so much for reminding me."

"I'll trade you. Remember, they don't have to ask me if I was naked. They've all seen for themselves." Daria turned and headed for the cafeteria, followed by Jane.

ooooo

"Damn, isn't there some sort of law against serving chili mac more than once a week?" Daria growled as she nibbled at her peas and carrots.

"Spoken like someone who knows there's food in the fridge at home," Jane observed. "You gonna eat that?"

"Be my guest. Ah, here comes Jodie. Play your cards right and you won't have to dumpster dive tonight."

"Oh, how sharper than a serpent's tooth. Hey, Jodie."

"Hi, Jane, Daria. Did you get a copy of today's Lowdown?"

"Not yet. Anything good in there?" Daria asked, smiling slightly.

"You should hurry up and grab one. They're going fast. I think the media are taking them for my interview of you. I wouldn't be totally surprised if it got picked up by one of the wire services."

"Gee, Jodie, if I didn't know better, I'd think you enjoyed being editor of the Lowdown," Jane smirked. "You sound almost like you're having fun."

"Well, I have no plans for a career in journalism, and no one's ever accused me of having printer's ink in my veins, but sometimes I get a kick out of it. Don't tell anyone, but there are three things I'd really like to do while I'm with the Lowdown. Have a story or article picked up by the big media, put out an extra, and... well, just two things, I guess."

Jane raised a skeptical eyebrow and grinned. "Come on, Jodie, what's the third thing?"

Jodie looked down at her plate. "It's silly."

Daria smiled. "Let me guess. Yell "Stop the presses!"

"Ack! How'd you know?"

"Just a guess. It's what I'd want to do."

"Well, you're right. Maybe I'll get to yell "Stop the laser printer" someday. Why didn't you ever join the paper, Daria? I know you're interested in journalism."

"I have a low b.s. tolerance. I couldn't have put up with all the sports b.s., the school spirit b.s., and especially Ms. Li's b.s. There would've been a war."

Jodie grinned. "A guerilla war, I'm thinking."

"You know me well." Daria rose and picked up her tray. "Well, I've managed to get permission to spend PE and study hall in the computer lab today, since it's for the ' honor of Lawwndaale Highhh.' I may as well get in there a little early. See you guys later."

Jodie watched her walk away. "Well, that's odd."

Jane said, "Yeah. Usually you're the one who has something more important to do than eat."

Jodie jumped up. "Oh, shoot! I gotta go!"

"I'll take your tray back for you."

"Thanks, Jane!" Jodie called as she ran off.

Jane watched her hurry out the door, then picked up her untouched plate and exchanged it for her own.