At length Daria stood beside Jane at her locker as she loaded her bookbag for the walk home. Students streamed past them toward the doors and temporary freedom. Jane finished transferring her books and the two headed for Daria's locker.
As Daria reached her locker and began to dial in the combination, she heard an all too familiar voice say, "Oh, I like shopping and trying on clothes, and movies and dancing and eating out and riding around. If it's a cute car, that is, and if it goes with my outfit."
Daria glanced up to see Quinn talking with a tall good-looking boy with styled hair, who seemed fascinated by her. He said, "I have a friend who's on the gymnastics team. Any more at home like you?"
Quinn smiled as if he'd said something witty and replied, "I'm an only child."
Startled, Jane glanced at Daria and saw her pained expression give way to something more akin to anger. She closed her locker and called out, "Hey, Quinn."
Quinn's head jerked in surprise and she glanced at Daria, then as quickly glanced away.
"Come here a minute, sis," Daria said, placing a slight emphasis on the word 'sis'.
Pretending not to hear, Quinn tossed her head imperiously and started to walk off. Daria frowned. Quinn stopped suddenly, stood there for a second, then turned back and began to walk jerkily toward Daria. Her expression was one of helpless fury. As Jane, the boy, the other members of the fashion club, and several others watched fascinated, Quinn came up to Daria, teeth and fists clenched, and stopped. "You stop that right now and you turn me loose, or I'll make you so-o-o sorry!" she hissed.
Daria stared calmly into Quinn's angry eyes and said, loud enough for all to hear, "You hurt my feelings, sis. It makes me feel bad when you pretend you're an only child. From now on, I want you to tell everyone the truth; that we're sisters."
"That's never gonna happen, you geekfreak brain!" Quinn whispered back fiercely. "I don't know where Mom and Dad got you, but there's no way in hell we're related! And you better quit trying to embarrass me, 'cause I have lots of friends here, friends who'll do anything I ask them to! Get my drift, brain?"
Quinn made to turn and walk away, but wound up doing a spastic-looking pirouette that finished with her facing Daria again.
Daria got well into Quinn's personal space and locked eyes with her. Now she whispered as well. "It may surprise you to learn that I agree with you that we're not related, you red-headed stepchild. I'm just a little surprised that you're so eager to admit to it. But if that's the way you want to go, I can certainly get behind it. I'll be glad to point out to all and sundry that, while I resemble Amy on the Barksdale side and Imogene on the Morgendorffer side, you don't look like anyone on either side of the family. And if you feel like playing rough, bring it on. I don't need a pack of zombies to mess you up. I can make you do it to yourself. Think about it. If you can."
Daria turned away, and Quinn spun on her heel and stalked off- or started to. Her angry exit was spoiled when she collided head-on with Kevin Thompson and was knocked sprawling, her books flying everywhere.
In the ensuing hubbub, Daria and Jane left the building and headed homeward. As soon as she could do so without being overheard, Jane asked, "What the hell was that all about?"
"Quinn seems to be feeling her oats. She's using her power more than she did in Highland. It's hard to tell, but I think it may be getting stronger, too. She certainly seems to think it is."
"You mean soon she'll have most of the students completely in her power?"
"More like more under her influence. Most of the testosterone-crazed ones, anyway."
"What do you think she might do?"
"Well, the first thing will probably be to tell them to stomp me into a grease spot. No. First she'll get them to try to intimidate me, then she'll threaten to have them stomp me into a grease spot."
Jane's reply was preempted by the arrival of a yellowjacket. It hovered in front of the girls, seeming to examine first Daria and then Jane. As it began to close in on Jane's head, Daria said, "Shoo! Go away!" As if it had heard her, the yellowjacket flew off.
"Hey, pretty neat. Can you do that with flies and mosquitoes too?"
"I didn't do anything."
"Looked like it to me."
"Coincidence."
"Hmm. Anyway, what was that other thing, with Quinn getting so clumsy and spastic all of a sudden?"
"It's sort of like compensation for Quinn being able to control others. To a certain extent, I can control Quinn. Not her thoughts, just her movements. I've just started to be able to do it recently."
"Cool! Can you do it to anyone?"
"Nope. Just Quinn. So far."
"But soon, maybe others? And who knows what other abilities you might develop! That's fantastic!
Daria shot Jane a look from beneath a lowered eyebrow, then cast her eyes back down to the sidewalk in front of her. "Oh, yeah. I'm so lucky. Who knows what powers and abilities I might develop by the time I'm dying of cancer from all this fucking uranium in my system," she said bitterly.
Jane looked stricken. "Omigosh. I didn't know. I... I'm so sorry."
"Huh?" Daria looked up. "Oh, it's not quite that bad. Nobody's given me six months to live or anything. They say they flushed most of the uranium out with chelation treatments. They couldn't find anything wrong with us, and boy did they ever look."
""So... uranium isn't all that bad, then?" Jane asked.
"Oh, hell yes, it's bad. It's chemically and radiologically toxic, it's carcinogenic, and it's mutagenic. They've known it's toxic for over two hundred years, that it's carcinogenic since 1896, and that it's mutagenic since 1940. There's been a lot of progress in medical treatment since the Gulf War, which is lucky for the people of Highland, but there's just nothing that can be done about mutations."
"What kinds of mutations can it cause?"
"All kinds. There's no way to know what you might get. It all depends on where the decay particle hits the DNA." She was silent another moment, then, "Funny thing is, I don't register on a geiger counter. Nothing above background radiation. The scientists say that means I'm not contaminated, no matter what I see in the mirror." She sighed. "I sure wish I could believe that."
"Well, it's probably best to take their word for it, at least until you can get a second opinion.
"I suppose. It's just that... sometimes late at night I'll go look in the bathroom mirror with the light off, and I'll see my teeth glowing in the dark." Daria walked a little way, then continued, " And I think: my bones are probably glowing too; I just can't see them. Just like a Halloween decoration."
Jane visualized that, and then wished she hadn't. "Uh, hey, you want a slice of pizza? There's a couple of slices in the fridge that I can warm up."
Daria looked up. "Yeah, okay."
Jane straightened up and closed the refrigerator door. "Sorry, Daria, but it looks like Trent found the pizza. I thought it'd be safe hidden in a broccoli bag in the veggie drawer."
Turning, Jane saw that Daria had apparently not heard her. She was staring intently at a roach on the floor. The roach was scurrying around and around in a circle. Daria's brow furrowed, and the roach stopped and then started off again in a straight line. It stopped again, turned about ninety degrees to the left, and walked in a straight line again. As Jane watched, the roach finished walking a square and stopped. Daria squinted and put a hand to her head, and the roach made a break for freedom and disappeared under a cabinet.
"What in the world are you doing?"
"Giving myself a headache," Daria replied, rubbing her forehead.
"You were making that roach do that?"
"Well, it did what I was thinking."
"So, uh, that yellowjacket a while ago, you did make it go away after all?"
"Maybe. It's starting to look that way. Got any aspirin?"
"Yeah, we have some in the medicine cabinet upstairs. This way."
Daria followed Jane up the stairs and halfway down the hallway to the bathroom. She noticed a couple of canvases propped up in the hall and guessed that they were Jane's work.
Jane handed Daria a couple of aspirin and a paper cup full of water. Daria took them and swallowed the pills. "Thanks," she said, then turned her head and sniffed.
"That dead-mouse-and-last-month's pizza aroma is coming from Trent's room." Jane said.
"Trent?"
"Older brother. He and I are the only Lanes holding the fort right now. Parental units are out of town."
"Cool. I wish mine would do that. But I think I was smelling mineral spirits and something."
"Mineral spirits, turps, and linseed oil? I guess that'd be my room. I do most of my oil painting in there."
"I'd like to see your work."
"Ha. You say that now, but after you see it, you'll be singing a different tune," Jane smirked as she led the way to her room.
"Ha yourself," Daria smirked back. "It'll take more than you've got to make me sing anything."
"So," Daria asked, pausing as she browsed through a stack of canvases leaning against a wall, most depicting distorted, twisted abstract human figures screaming in rage or pain, "Something eating at your soul?"
"Why yes, now that you mention it," Jane smirked as she pointed to the fierce, twisted creatures gnawing at the main figure in the painting Daria was currently looking at, "there's Lawndale, there's school, and there's my family."
"Uh huh," Daria nodded sagely. "But family pretty much goes without saying, don't you think?"
"True, but I needed three demons for compositional purposes."
"Ah."
"So, having seen it, what do you think?" Jane asked as Daria returned the canvases to their place.
Daria's practiced poker face concealed her surge of panic at the question. Omigod, why did she have to ask me that? What can I say that won't hurt her feelings, or sound like I'm trying to suck up, or duck the question, or make me sound like a fool?
"Well, I like them. Um, I know very little about brushwork, but, looking at your canvases, I'd say you do. Very expressive use of color. And the undercurrent of humor beneath the existential angst keeps them from being pretentious. I like that."
Jane blinked and smiled. She was about to reply when a head and shoulder appeared around her doorframe. They belonged to a tall, slender young man with short tousled black hair, a small goatee, and three silver earrings in the ear that Daria could see. And his eyes…
"Hey, Janey, have we got… whoa." One eyebrow hiked up slightly as he caught sight of Daria.
"Trent, this is my friend Daria. Daria, this is my brother Trent."
"Hi, Daria. Nice to meet you," Trent said.
"Uh… hi." It dawned on Daria that she was staring blankly at Jane's brother and that the silence was stretching toward awkward. "Uh, nice to meet you. Too."
Jane glanced sideways at Daria, then turned back to Trent. "I was just forcing Daria to admire my artwork," she said. "Did you want something?"
"Yeah, do we have any soda left? The band'll be here pretty soon."
"Just that Tropical Fruit Punch flavor in the fridge."
"Ew. That stuff's nasty."
"Hey, you bought it. Just put it out, they'll drink it."
"Yeah, I guess." Trent waved and disappeared down the hall.
Trent's departure took a couple of seconds to register on Daria. She turned toward Jane. "Your brother has a band? Is he the leader?"
"Well, he plays lead guitar. They don't actually have a leader," Jane replied.
"Are they good?"
Jane chuckled. "They're good and loud. Every dog within two blocks howls in agony. I usually try to get outside the blast radius before they start practicing."
"Oh. Uh, want to go over to my house?"
"Sure." Jane dropped the brush she was using into the can of mineral spirits, and laid a sheet of plastic over her palette. "I want to see your paintings."
Daria threw her book bag over a shoulder. "I'm afraid you're in for a disappointment."
Jane glanced back as she headed out into the upstairs hallway. "What's this, false modesty? I've seen some of your sketches, and you're doing good work in art class."
Daria followed Jane downstairs and out of the house. "No; I'm just not a painter, that's all. I do some pencil sketching, I've done a few small watercolors, and that's it."
Jane gave Daria a puzzled look. "C'mon, you've gotta have an outlet. I know a creative person when I meet one."
Daria smiled minutely. "Well, there are my plans for world domination, and sometimes I creatively gaslight Quinn. But mainly I write."
"What do you write?"
"Essays and short stories, mostly."
"Cool. What else?"
"Well, I have a couple of longer pieces in the works that might reach novel length, I keep a diary, and I suffer an occasional attack of bad poetry."
"Ooh, that I gotta read!"
"Over my dismembered corpse."
Jane grinned. "Now I know I gotta read it."
…
"'Do We Really Need An Ozone Layer?' That sounds interesting. So do we?" Jane asked. She and Daria were sitting on the floor in Daria's bedroom. A small cardboard box was between them and Jane was examining documents from it. Thin sheafs of printed paper were scattered about.
"Only those who foolishly insist on going outside in the daytime," Daria replied. "That's not finished yet. I was writing it for Mr. Van Driesen. He's that wimpy ex-flower child I was telling you about. It's too bad we moved before I could hand it in. I wanted to watch his face as he read it."
"Well, hang onto it. You may get a chance to hand it in to O'Neill, and I'd love to watch his face as he reads it. Now where's that poetry?"
"In my secret hidden boobytrapped wall safe."
"Ha! The safe hasn't been made that can keep…" Jane's braggadocio was interrupted by a call from downstairs.
"Daria! Quinn! Come help me bring in the groceries!"
Daria groaned and got to her feet. "That's my mom. Gotta go tote some bales. Damn that Abraham Lincoln for forgetting to emancipate the children!"
"I'll come and give you a hand. Maybe she won't beat you in front of a stranger."
"A slender straw, but I'll grasp at it." Daria led the way out her door and down the hall.
Jane rose and followed her out. "If she does, at least I get to watch."
Helen was returning from the kitchen as Daria and Jane descended the stairs. "You girls bring in the rest of…" she began, and then noticed Jane.
"Jane, this is my mother, Helen Morgendorffer," Daria said. "Mom, this is my friend, Jane Lane."
Several expressions flickered across Helen's face, surprise among them, before they disappeared behind her professional 'pleasant greetings' face.
"Why hello, Jane, it's a pleasure to meet you," she said. "I was hoping no one would see that room before I could redo it. We're not really restraining Daria in there. We just haven't had time to redecorate it yet."
"Are you kidding, Mrs. M? That's the coolest bedroom I've ever seen!"
Daria smiled. "Thank you, Jane. I've been trying to tell her that, but she never listens to me."
A trace of irritation leaked out from behind Helen's lawyer face. "Daria, is Quinn upstairs?"
"No. The last I saw of her, she was bumping into a football player."
Helen gave Daria a dubious look. "Well, there aren't too many groceries. They're in the back seat."
Without comment, Daria exited through the front door, followed by Jane.
…
"Your mom seems kind of type 'A'," Jane remarked as they approached Helen's SUV. "Businesswoman?"
"Worse," Daria replied as she opened a door and started pulling out plastic grocery bags, "Lawyer."
"Eee. Well, lawyers come in handy sometimes. We Lanes have been known to get crossways of the occasional statute. Inadvertently, of course." Jane accepted the bags Daria handed her. "Does she do pro bono?"
Daria smiled a bit. "Occasionally. Says it looks good on her resumé." She grabbed the rest of the bags and straightened up.
As she led the way around to the side door, Daria considered the surprising fact that she had just introduced Jane as her friend. She had never said that about anyone before. She'd never had a friend before to say it about. Is it true? Jane introduced me to her brother as her friend. When I introduced Jane to Mom, I just said it without thinking. It felt right. But is it really that easy? Just like that? Daria pondered. I guess I'll just go with it and see how it goes.
…
Helen was putting away the last of the groceries she'd brought in when Daria and Jane came in the side door. They set the bags they were carrying on the counter. "You're home early today, aren't you?" Daria asked.
Helen gave Daria a puzzled look, then checked her watch. "Not really. It's six thirty."
Daria turned to look at the wall clock. "Huh. Where did the time go?"
Helen stopped putting away groceries when she came to a box of frozen lasagna and began opening it. "Jane, would you like to stay for dinner?" Helen asked. "I'm fixing lasagna. It won't take long."
"Thanks, Mrs. Morgendorffer, but I guess I'd better be getting home," said Jane. "The band has a gig tonight, and I need to make sure they get there on time and help them set up." She headed for the door. "Daria, want to come along? I won't make you tote anything heavy, you get in free, and you get free sodas."
Before Daria could reply, she felt Helen give her jacket a surreptitious tug. "I've got something I have to do tonight. Maybe next time. See you in the morning?"
"See you in the morning," replied Jane. She exited through the side door and was gone.
Daria started to put away some cans of three bean salad when Helen threw an arm around her shoulder and gave her a side hug. She grimaced but did not flinch.
"See? I knew you could make friends if you just gave people a chance! It's like I told you, it all boils down to trust."
"That's what you told me, all right."
"I was right, wasn't I?"
Daria considered her words. She didn't want to lie, but she didn't particularly want to contradict her mother. "Trust is part of it. I sort of sensed that Jane might be a kindred spirit, and I guess she sensed the same thing about me. We kind of felt each other out and got to know each other a little and, uh, I guess you could say we decided to trust each other."
"Just like I told you. So what is she like? What are her parents like? Where does she live?"
"She lives about three blocks from here, on Howard drive. It's on my way to school. She likes art, especially oil painting, and she's good at it. She has an older brother who plays guitar."
"And her parents?"
"Two. One male, one female."
"Daria…"
"I haven't met them yet."
Helen sighed. "Well, I'm happy that you've made a friend. Maybe when you get out of that self-esteem class you can make some more. I swear I don't understand how you can have low self-esteem, as bright and capable as you are."
"Exactly. It's impossible."
"Then why are you in that self-esteem class?"
"I told you. Because the school counselor is mean and vindictive."
"Now, Daria. Don't start that again. The whole world isn't conspiring against you."
Daria stopped in mid-motion. She put the groceries she was holding back in the bag and headed for the side patio door. "Fine. Think what you want. Believe anyone but me," she said as she walked out. She's doing it again, she thought bitterly. Taking the word of any authority figure over mine. And it's an argument I can't win. The more I try, the more paranoid I'll sound.
Slowing to a stop in the front yard, Daria took a deep breath and let the anger drain away. She wasn't going to let her mother or Quinn or anyone else spoil this day. She stared upward through gently swaying tree branches at a patch of blue sky with evening-pink clouds. I have a friend. It'll take something really bad to trump that.
…
When Daria came back in, Helen was removing the pan of lasagna from the microwave. She silently washed her hands and set the table.
Helen called Jake and Quinn to come to dinner. She was seeking a conversational gambit to ease the tension between her and Daria when she noticed her daughters exchanging glares across the table.
"So, how was your day, Quinn?" Helen asked.
"All right."
"Daria said you bumped into a football player."
Shooting Daria another murderous glare, Quinn replied, "Hmph! She's just jealous. She knows she couldn't bump into one if she snuck into their locker room naked!"
"Quinn!"
"Is that what you've got planned for tomorrow?" Daria sneered, "Or have you already tried it?"
"Daria!"
Quinn's eyes blazed. "You'll never have any friends, geek! Nobody likes a brain!" she snarled.
"Quinn! Don't talk like that. As it happens, Daria brought a friend over this afternoon. Her name is Jane."
"Oh, that weird bony art geek? That figures. Next thing, she'll be painting her face white and hanging out with the goth geeks. Or should I say, the rest of the goth geeks?"
"Oh, you're a good one to talk about face paint, Miss Pore Spackle," Daria retorted.
"I do not have pores! My pores are tiny!" Quinn almost shrieked.
Seeing that she had struck a nerve, Daria thrust again. "Oh, good, then you won't mind that I used your pore refiner on my boots."
"What!"
Helen said, "Quinn, Daria is teasing you. You are teasing, aren't you, Daria?"
"Of course," Daria replied sweetly. "I would never do to my boots what Quinn does to her face."
A tense silence ensued. The hostility between Quinn and Daria was almost palpable. Helen looked from one to the other, at a loss how to continue. She shot Jake a look that said, "Say something!"
Jake gulped and sent her a questioning look back. Her angry return look offered no help, just consequences if he didn't speak up. Reluctantly, he turned to Daria. "Say, how's the old self-esteem coming, kiddo?" he asked.
Daria gave him a sidewise look. "My self-esteem teacher says that being addressed all my life with childish epithets like "kiddo" is probably a key source of my problem," she deadpanned.
Jake looked dismayed. "Really?"
"No."
Jake laughed nervously. "Isn't she great? She's the greatest!"
Daria rolled her eyes and said nothing.
Helen said, "She sure is. But what does your self-esteem teacher say?"
Feeling warm and greasy from all the buttering up, Daria replied, "He says I should think back to circumstances that brought me happiness as a child and replicate them... but I suppose Quinn's here to stay."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Quinn demanded.
Daria shot her a baleful look. "You ought to know. You're the only child."