ONCE
UPON A TIME AT COLLEGE
Chapter Thirteen
Daria headed back toward her room to hang up her coat. "Well, guess I'd better get started on dinner."
"I'll help," Jane said. "What are we having for Trent's last night here?"
"Senate Bean Soup," Daria called from her bedroom. You can put that package of frozen mustard greens on."
"Senate Bean Soup? Do they call it that because it gives you extra gas?" Trent asked as Daria returned.
Daria smiled. "Naah, senators are born with extra gas. They call it that because this is the bean soup recipe they serve in the Senate cafeteria. It's actually very good." She turned on a large stove burner and set a pressure cooker on it, removing the lid.
Trent peered over Daria's shoulder into the cooker. "You're making it with dry beans? They're gonna be hard, unless you cook 'em an awful long time."
"That's what the pressure cooker is for," Daria replied. "Twenty minutes, and I guarantee they'll be tender. I've presoaked these beans, but with a pressure cooker it's not really necessary." She retrieved a paper-wrapped chunk of ham from the refrigerator.
Thirty minutes later, the three seated themselves around the breakfast bar and dug in. "Mmm, this tastes great," Trent observed. "I had some doubts when I saw you put the cinnamon and nutmeg in it, but this is the best bean soup I ever had. And you're right, the beans are tender."
Jane's eyes flicked from Trent to Daria as she ate. "Yeah, what he said. The mustard greens are good, too. But you forgot to put the sugar in the cornbread."
"No, I didn't. Grandma called that "yankee cornbread", and she only made it to eat with milk. We'd have it for breakfast sometimes when we visited her. She said she used to eat it that way for supper too, all by itself. But to eat with beans and greens, or anything else, unsweetened cornbread is better."
"Mmm. Can't argue with that. Is this your dad's mother?"
"No, Mom's."
"Really? Your mom doesn't cook like this, does she?"
"Very seldom. Grandma was all about teaching domestic skills and feminine graces. How to catch and keep your man. Happy homemaker stuff. Rita got into it,especially the catching part, but Mom rejected the whole package, partly because she hated Rita's guts. Most of what I know about cooking I picked up on my own."
"Except for this?" Trent asked.
"Even this, really. I watched Grandma cook a meal like this once when I was ten, even helped with the cornbread, but I had to get the Senate Bean Soup recipe off the Internet. If I hadn't discovered for myself how dead easy most cooking is, I'd probably be a worse cook than Mom."
Jane paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. "Easy?"
"Sure. Follow the recipe and it works. Pretty soon you start to understand the principles, and you can make your own recipes. Boring, maybe, but easy. So, Trent, did you get any gigs today?"
"One maybe and one after the first of the year."
"That's good. Which one was that first guy?"
"Aah, he was an asshole. Wouldn't talk to me."
Daria said "hm," and ate a spoonful of bean soup. I wonder if that had anything to do with you being an hour or so late for your appointment.
"Oh, Daria, you got a letter. Looks like it's from Chuck's dad." Jane held it up.
--o0o--
In his apartment, Chuck the third was opening a similar letter. A fat airline ticket fell out, and he grabbed it. His eyebrows shot up. "Ankara!"
--o0o--
Daria tore one end off the envelope and removed the contents. "Hmm... guidelines for me... copy of Chuck's guidelines... This is strange. Seems that Chuck the second's grasp of the concept of Thanksgiving is a bit off."
"What do you mean?" Jane asked.
"Well, instead of getting together to eat turkey, he and Chuck the third are getting together in Turkey."
--o0o--
"I've got an early class this morning, Trent, but I made you this jug of lemonade. The bottom three-fourths of it is frozen, and I've wrapped it in insulating foam, so it should stay cold all day. Drive carefully, and have a good trip back to Lawndale."
Trent took the jug. "Thanks, Daria, and thanks for putting me up. I couldn't have afforded to come up here otherwise." He bent down and kissed her on the cheek.
Daria smiled and blushed. "It was good to see you. I'm sorry you weren't able to line up more gigs. Well, uh, 'bye." She slipped out the door.
Trent slung his guitar case on his back and looked around the den area. "Looks like that's it. My other stuff is already loaded. I guess I'd better be getting back to Lawndale."
"Yeah, I guess you'd better."
He turned at the anger in her tone. "What's the matter, Janie?"
"Daria was too nice to mention it, but the reason you didn't line up more gigs is that you goofed off and overslept and generally didn't try. Boston is a huge city, Trent. There are hundreds of places the Spiral could play here." Jane sighed and shook her head. "Well, maybe it's for the best. If you'd gotten enough gigs to make a Boston tour worthwhile, it would just be delaying the inevitable. You guys all have real jobs now. Maybe it's time to put Mystik Spiral in the scrapbook and get on with your lives."
"Janie, don't say that. You're talking about my dream here."
"Trent, if you're not willing to go after it with everything you've got, maybe you should let it go. Like I did."
"Huh? You're going after your dream, and you're doing great so far. That's why you're here."
"Not that dream. I had another dream, that Daria would be my sister-in-law some day. She still has feelings for you, you know. I guess I was hoping that you coming up and staying here would stir them up, and maybe... well, that didn't happen. What happened was that you reminded her of the reasons her old crush faded away. I still think Daria would be really good for you, Trent, but I see now that you wouldn't be so good for her."
He sighed and smiled a sad smile. "You finally figured that out? I've been knowing that for years. Sometimes I doubt there's a handsome prince out there good enough to deserve Daria, but I know there are more promising frogs than me. I hope she finds one worth kissing."
Jane stared at her brother for several seconds as her eyes misted up, then rushed across the space that separated them and hugged him fiercely. More gently, he hugged her back. At length she said, "You're a much better frog than you think you are, Trent, and there are lots of princesses out there who'd be damn lucky to kiss you. Even if they get a wart doing it!"
He released her. "I hope you're right about that. Well, I should go."
"Wait." She handed him a sack off the breakfast bar. "I fixed you some sandwiches and stuff."
"Aw, thanks, Janie. You always did make the best sandwiches."
--o0o--
"I bet I can find pictures of it in a few seconds," Stacy said as she clicked on a button marked SEARCH. As the Gargle screen came up she clicked on PICTURES and began typing. "Morningstar is such a pretty name for a weapon. It sounds like something Sailor Moon would use," she said as she hit ENTER.
"Eww-w-w!" Tiffany said a couple of seconds later as a page of small images came up.
"Ewww is right," Sandi agreed. "Definitely an accessory don't. And Daria was walking around Boston with one of those? I don't think I could lift most of them, and I wouldn't if I could."
"That's according to her friend Jane. I don't know whether I believe her or not. Anyway, I think she said she won it in a poker game. Stacy, those pictures came up really fast. Do you think you can Gargle up some pics of 'Crusher' Kujowski that fast?"
"Let's find out," Stacy replied, typing rapidly.
In seconds the page was again filled with thumbnail images, and the four girls clustered closer to the screen. "Omigosh, omigosh," Stacy said.
"Heee'ss cuuute," Tiffany drawled.
"He's big," Sandi said.
"Huge," Quinn agreed. "Jane said he was six seven."
Stacy scrolled slowly down the page, then clicked for the next page of thumbs. As they came up, her finger stabbed out at one. "Omigod, omigod, look!" she cried.
It was a thumbnail of several players with cheerleaders on their shoulders. "What are you babbling about now, Stacy? We already know he's big."
"Look who that is on his shoulder!" Stacy squeaked.
"O-o-o-ohh... my-y-y-y..." Tiffany began.
"What? It's a cheerleader," Sandi shrugged.
Quinn leaned in as close as she could get, and gasped. "No. No, it can't be. Click on it!"
Stacy clicked on the thumbnail, and it was replaced with a page from the Raft Reavers' website. She quickly zoomed in on the desired image. The caption said it was the Reavers' defensive line, and named the players from left to right. But the four girls' attention was focused on the face of the girl sitting on Al Kujowski's shoulder.
"It is!" Quinn exclaimed.
"Daria?" Sandi was incredulous.
"Shhee haas cuute kneees," Tiffany observed.
"Yeah, she has Barksdale legs," Quinn said. "Stacy, if you can make me a nice big print of that photo, you're my pal for life."
Stacy grinned. "Coming right up!
"Ooh, Kuh-winn, I smell blackmail!" Sandi grinned evilly.
"Oh, no, this is too good for blackmail," Quinn replied.
"Huh? How can anything be too good for blackmail?"
"I could show this print to Daria and ask for a lot of money and she'd pay it, or save it for when I need a really big favor and she'd do it, but I'm not going to. I'm not going to give up seeing the look on Mom's face when I show her this, or the look on Daria's face when she comes home and Mom shows it to her, not for all the money in Daria's Montana cabin fund."
"Bu-ut, shee loooks pretty coool iiinn thiiss piicturre. Whyy..."
"Why would she not want us to see it? Because she's Daria. For as long as I can remember, she's had this better-than-thou attitude, like she was looking down on all us mere mortals from Mount Olympics, or from her ivy tower, and sneering at everything I, I mean we, thought was important. You probably heard some of the cracks she used to make about jocks and cheerleaders and fashionistas when she was still at Lawndale High. I heard a lot of it. Well, now here she is, dating this huge jock, and she's a cheerleader! The last time I caught her being human was when she got her navel pierced a couple of years ago. But when I told Mom and Dad and they checked, suddenly she wasn't pierced, and they thought I was crazy or lying, and she just laughed at me! Well, now I shall finally have my revenge! Mu-u-ahahahahaa!"
-o0o-
Jane entered the apartment and stopped. Daria was in her favorite chair, fully reclined, fast asleep. Grinning, Jane catfooted back to her room to put away her books, coat, scarf, and knit cap. She was back in the kitchen, peering into the open refrigerator door when the phone rang. She grabbed it before it could ring again.
"Boston diversion facility for wayward girls. Oh, hi, Trent. Did you make it home okay? You didn't... you did... uh huh... hmm. And did you do any good? Uh huh... well, I'd have to ask Daria. Let me see if she's awake." Jane looked over to the recliner. Daria hadn't moved, but one eye was watching her from beneath an inquisitively cocked eyebrow.
"Trent's still in the area. He, uh, thought of some more places to check. He wants to know if he can borrow a patch of floor for one more night."
Daria smiled. "Sure, no problem. It'll be just the two of you tonight. I've got a poker game, and I won't get back here till twelve thirty or one."
"Daria says it's okay," Jane said into the phone. She listened, then said to Daria, "He wants to know if he should bring pizza."
"Not for me. The game I'm going to always has pizza, sandwiches, beer, and soft drinks. They skim the first few pots to pay for it."
Jane said, "Trent? Daria's going to be eating out tonight, so if you want pizza, you and I could go to Mama Mimi's. It's an all-you-can-eat place near here. Or I can cook chicken leg quarters, green beans, and baked potatoes real quick. That's what I was going to fix." She listened, then said, "Okay, see you then."
She hung up and turned to Daria. "He's going to take a chance on my cooking, then he's going back out to see two more guys later this evening."
Daria got up. "I'll go lay down in my room, then. Feel free to make a moderate amount of racket. Wake me at five thirty if I'm not already up"
Jane got out the bag of potatoes. "Okay. I should be able to do this quietly."
-o0o-
"Hey Jane, if you've got a minute, tell me what you think of this outfit."
Jane walked into Daria's room. "Whoa. That's different."
Daria turned from studying her reflection in her dresser mirror. She was wearing a purple silk blouse with the top two buttons undone. As she moved, the partly open front sometimes showed cleavage, sometimes not. The thin material revealed to a sharp eye that she was not wearing a bra, and didn't need one.
"Tactical fashion. There will be a guy at the game tonight who's supposed to be very good, but I found out he has a thing for petite girls with perky boobs. So I thought maybe I'd find out how good his concentration is."
"You're compiling dossiers on potential poker opponents?"
"I haven't gone that far yet, but it doesn't hurt to ask a few questions. Lots of high-level players do that and more. Who knows, some of the others may have been asking around about me. But what do you think about the outfit, Jane? Is it too much?"
Jane looked Daria up and down. She was also wearing an above-the-knee straight black skirt, black hose, and black leather slip-ons with inch and a half heels.
"Well, I have exactly zero experience with poker games richer than penny ante, but from what I remember seeing on TV and the movies, that outfit is about par for female poker players; maybe even a little on the conservative side. Of course, those games were mostly in taverns and casinos and smoke-filled back rooms."
"This one is going to be in a smoke-filled den of iniquity, so I guess those fictional games apply."
"Ooh, a real den of iniquity? Where?"
"It's the den of a Bromwell student's apartment, over on Cowpens. I think that qualifies."
Jane snickered. "A den of stuffy iniquity, maybe. So, what made you decide to bring out the heavy artillery?"
Daria thought for a second, then said, "Well, it seems that, as you get into the more serious, high-stakes games, you have to use all you've got. I've been asking myself if I really want to get into games like that, and I've concluded that I want to find out just how good I am, and that I've got more of a competitive streak than I thought I did. I really like to win, Jane."
"Ha! Really? I'd've never known. So this is a high-stakes game?"
"It's what they call modified table stakes. No less than one thousand, no more than three, no adding to or subtracting from your stake after play begins. Don't know if there's a standard definition for 'high stakes', but I think of this as one level down from a high stakes game."
"Wow! You mean you're taking a thousand bucks?"
"No, of course not. I'm taking three. Any less, and I'd be saddling myself with a disadvantage. So, you don't think this outfit is too skanky?"
Jane replied seriously, "I think it's entirely appropriate for the occasion. But try it out on Trent. If he loses his language skills, it's just right. If he loses all motor control and falls in a heap, it might be too much."
Daria started to demur, but couldn't think of a cogent objection. She was about to let a bunch of strangers see her in this outfit; there was no logical reason why Trent shouldn't. She looked dubiously at Jane. Jane hiked an eyebrow inquiringly, as if to say. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" Her expression changing to one of determination, Daria grabbed her coat and walked down the hall into the kitchen area.
Behind her Jane said, a bit louder than necessary, "Want a chicken leg and some beans before you go? I fixed plenty."
With studied casualness, Daria took a position where the light angled across the front of her blouse, picking out the slightest bumps and dips with highlights and shadows. "No thanks, Jane, there'll be plenty to eat at the game. Smells good, though."
Trent, seated at the breakfast bar, had just started in on a baked potato and was picking up a drumstick. He looked up at Daria and his eyes locked on her purple blouse. The chicken leg fell to his plate with a thump.
Jane moved to a position whence she could see both Trent and Daria. "So when do you expect to be back? About dawn?"
Daria shifted her stance slightly, causing the unbuttoned part of her blouse to flap open and closed. She inhaled and said, "No; the game is over at midnight. It's one of the house rules. So I should be back between twelve thirty and one." Pieces of baked potato fell unheeded from Trent's mouth. Daria and Jane both kept straight faces and pretended not to see.
"We'll probably still be up by then. Be careful," Jane said. Trent blinked and mostly closed his mouth.
Daria put one arm into a coat sleeve, then stretched both arms behind her back to reach the other sleeve. Trent's elbow slid off the breakfast bar and his face landed in his green beans.