Daria elbowed the door open, went over and deposited her bags on the counter, and pocketed her keys. Jane, entering behind her, dropped more purchases on the counter.

"Well, these should let us do some rudimentary cooking," Jane said as she removed pans and utensils from the bags.

Daria took a plastic dishpan from one of the bags, put it in the sink, and began putting the items in it. "I still wish we'd gotten that percolator."

"There's a reason you seldom see those anymore, Daria. Sure, they make cute noises, but they make lousy coffee. By the time it's finished perking, the coffee's been boiled several times. It kills the best part of the flavor. Modern coffee makers just boil the water, not the coffee."

"I'll take your word for it. But we'll have to get a coffee maker somewhere unless you want to make it in a pan. I can testify that that method doesn't produce good coffee either, and it's messy."

"We'll get it when we get the skillet. That's another thing you don't want to buy from a thrift store, unless it's a cast-iron one."

Daria poured some bleach into the dishpan. "I feel a little uneasy about buying cooking utensils in a thrift store. Mom never did that."

"Well, my mom sure did. Don't worry, anything made of stainless steel is fine. It lasts practically forever, and it's easy to clean and sterilize."

"We'll probably eat mostly frozen dinners or eat out, anyway. Cooking takes time, time I'd rather use for studying and writing. Speaking of which, let's not spend too much more time shopping today. I need to finish that short story for Creative Writing class."

"Oh, that reminds me. 'Short Story' got into the BFAC gallery."

Daria gave Jane a puzzled glance. "How's that again?"

"One of the paintings I did in Lawndale. The one of you at your desk, writing in your notebook."

"Oh," Daria said. Great. I'm hanging naked in public again. Well, that one's pretty modest for a nude. Just a side-on view of me sitting. "Is the gallery open to the public?"

"Oh, yeah. It's pretty nice. They don't display a lot of stuff by freshmen, though, because the gallery has pretty high standards. There are other places on campus where they hang student work."

Daria finished filling the dishpan with hot water. "Well, congratulations on getting hung. Do they sell, or just display?"

"They sell. And representatives from the commercial galleries in the area come there to scout for new talent."

"Here's hoping you get discovered. Okay, everything's soaking in bleach water. Let's go get that coffeemaker."

As they descended the stairs, Daria reflected that she really hoped Jane would get discovered, and soon, so she could stop posing nude for her. Granted, Jane wasn't being a pain about it, and granted, the posing itself didn't bother her much anymore, but she still didn't like the idea of nude paintings of her on public display. If it helped Jane pay for college, though, and especially if it brought her to the attention of the powers that be in the art establishment, Daria would consider her discomfort to have been worth it.

"Bus or drive?" Jane asked as they reached the first floor, and had to decide whether to go out the front door or the back.

"Let's drive. It'll be quicker, we may want to grab dinner afterwards, and we might think of somewhere else we need to go."

~*~

A cloudy sky leaked gloomy light onto fields of stubble and dead weeds, and patches of leafless trees. The landscape matched Chuck's mood as he drove back towards Lawndale. They'd given him the same tests as others had before, and Dr. Millepieds had asked him more or less the same questions, and he'd answered as best he could, but he entertained no hope that they could help him. Chuck knew what his problem was, and it wasn't psychological, but he couldn't tell them that, any more than he could tell his father, or anyone else. There was only one person with whom he could discuss his problem openly, and she already knew all about it, and had done all she could, and it hadn't been enough.

She hadn't given up, though, and was still searching for an answer, so Chuck hadn't given up either. Aside from her, there was one other hope, and the analytical part of his mind told him it was a faint one, but he clung to it as to life itself. In the corner of his mind where hope dwelt, that particular hope had a face. He told himself not to think so narrowly, not to circumscribe the possibilities so straitly, yet the face remained, and he would not chase it off even if he could. It was the face of Daria Morgendorffer.

~*~

Jane gritted her teeth and continued to count the rings. Nine, ten, eleven…

Then a pickup. "Hello?"

"Hi, Trent," Jane said sarcastically. "Gee, I hope I didn't wake you up."

Trent coughed. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. How're you doing, Janey?"

"I'm doing real well, Trent. How about you?"

"Okay, I guess."

Jane frowned. "How did that trip out to the coast go?"

Trent sighed. "There's nothing open out there right now, but I made a few contacts. I call them every so often, and I'm thinking of going back out there in another couple of months."

"How are you fixed for money, Trent?"

"I'm doing all right. I work at the garage with Max now, and the band still manages to get together and play a gig every week or two. How much do you need? I don't have much, but I'll send you what I can."

"Aww, thanks, Trent. I'm okay for money, though. I just called to see how you were, and give you my new phone number, and tell you I miss you."

"I miss you too, Janey. I'm glad you moved out of that attic. Where are you now? In a dorm?"

"I just moved into an apartment with Daria. It's a real nice two-bedroom, only fifteen minutes by bus from BFAC."

"Sounds great, but can you afford it? Say, that gives me an idea. Do you think I could crash there for a day or three? It would give me a chance to look for gigs in Boston, and spend some time with you. The couch would be fine, or just a spot on the floor."

"Uhh, I'd like that, Trent, but I'll have to ask Daria. It's her apartment, I'm staying here for free."

"Whoa. I didn't know Daria's folks had that kind of dough."

"They don't. The apartment is part of a killer scholarship Daria landed. All expenses paid, first cabin."

"Double whoa. And she's letting you stay free? That's great, Janey. It really makes me feel better to know that you've got a friend like Daria. I better not come up, then. I don't want to mess it up for you."

"Oh, don't be silly. I'm sure she won't mind, if it's just for a few days. Anyway, it won't hurt to ask. Hang on." Jane put her hand over the phone mouthpiece. "Hey, Daria, would you mind if Trent came up to visit for a couple of days?"

Daria looked up from a volume of Dostoyevsky with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. "Huh?"