Sisters and Friends
Chapter 3
Operation Hippie Chick
"Hey, Nichols," Quinn smiled as Annie dropped her backpack onto the library table. "You passed with flying colors, even if my Dad thought you were my new girlfriend."
"Your dad is a hoot," Annie laughed, earning them some dirty looks from the other library denizens. "Seriously, how come your mom hasn't killed him yet?"
"Let's just say I'm glad I have an iPod. That stupid shirt of yours got them all in the mood, if you get my drift. They got kinda frisky after you left."
"Eww."
"I know. But then, that's why we're here."
"Point taken."
"Besides, they still love each other. Odd matches can work after all."
"Bummer about your sister and her guy," sighed Annie, still in her '70's groove. She fingered the Peace symbol on a leather thong around her neck, another artifact from her mom's stuff in the attic.
"Annie, what's that thing on your finger?"
"Mom said it's a mood ring.
Quinn looked at her friend, and slowly grinned.
"This thing is really cool. Kinda gross, but still cool," Annie said, looking closely at the glowing fluorescent blob writhing in the authentic reproduction Lava Lite.
"People used to stare at these things when they got stoned in the olden days," intoned the pimply sales guy behind the counter, attempting to impress the two hot girls that had wandered into the shop known as Puff the Magic Dragon.
"Fuck You, kid," snapped an older patron, slapping a copy of High Times on the counter. "Olden days my ass. Gimmie a couple packs of Zig-Zag too." He turned to Quinn, who had found the rack of vintage underground comics. "These days we just watch internet cat videos and laugh our asses off till we puke."
"Why the fuck are we here, Morgendorffer?" Annie whispered to her friend, edging away from the counter.
"Looking for things that might remind my mom of more liberal times, and why she got with my dad in the first place. It was your idea, you know. Don't get your tie-dyed panties in a knot."
"I'm not wearing panties. And anyway, if you tried to tie-dye a thong, you'd never get it untangled."
"Wiseass."
"Yep, I have an accomplished posterior."
"Kidding, right?"
"Of course. Can we get out of here? That sales guy creeps me out."
"Well, it looked easy enough on that YouTube video," laughed Quinn.
"It was easy," grumbled Annie, looking at her stained blouse. "Just messy as hell."
"Good thing we put newspapers down and worked in the garage," said Quinn. "Here, put this on. We can tie-dye that blouse in this last batch."
"Looks like Walt Disney puked in here," Annie snickered. "I like it."
"Quinn, where are you going dressed like that?" Helen blinked.
"Just trying a new retro look, Mom. Maybe Annie and I will start a campus fad."
"Uh huh. You look like a tropical fish."
"Got the idea from that old T shirt Annie had on. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with aggressively cheerful color. If it doesn't work, so what? I like it." Quinn gave her mother a little wave as she headed out the door.
At least she's wearing a bra, sighed Helen. Wait. I smell patchouli. A slow smile snuck across her face as she sipped her coffee, remembering the times when she loved tie-dyed clothes.
"Hey, Morgendorffer," came the droll greeting. "Wanna paint some protest signs after class?"
Annie dodged a mock dope slap as they walked into class. "I'm sitting up front with you. I wanna see if we can discombobulate Ms. Tomlinson."
"Is that even a real word?"
"Must be. My spellchecker swallows it, so there."
The rest of the class dragged in reluctantly; Quinn and Annie got some strange looks, which they ignored. At least Quinn was used to being stared at, and went with it. Annie just followed suit.
"Morning, claaa…?" Ms. Tomlinson trailed off, having spotted her two top students. After the initial surprise had worn off, the corners of her normally grim-set mouth ticked upwards. "In keeping with this strong visual," she indicated the two sitting in the front row, "I'm introducing a work by Richard Brautigan, originally written in 1961 and published in 1967 called Trout Fishing in America." Turning back to Quinn and Annie, she flashed them a Peace sign, which they gamely returned. "Right On, ladies," she smiled. "Thank you for the serendipitous visual aid."
On the way out, she stopped Annie, pointing to the message she had Sharpied on her shirt. "I believe the slogan was Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out, not Drop Dead, Ms. Nichols."
Annie smiled, and replied cooly. "It's a subtle anti-drug message, Ms. Tomlinson."
"Riiiight."
"Nice try," snickered Quinn as they walked out to the cafeteria.
"I do not partake of mind-altering substances, I'll have you know. I have enough trouble with my mind as it is," mock-huffed Annie. "I'm health conscious. I'm practically a vegetarian."
"Chicken is not a vegetable."
"Well, stupid ones may as well be, and that's practically every chicken I've met. When have you ever seen a chicken with a modicum of intelligence?"
"So you'll eat vegetables and stupid animals?"
"And animals that are not cute."
"Ever hear the expression you are what you eat?"
"Jeez, Morgendorffer, you can be such a buttmunch, you know that?"
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing." Quinn could hear her sister's sad smile even over the phone.
"It won't work, you know. Mom's not that easy, but I want you to know that I do appreciate your trying." Daria sounded lighter.
"Well, maybe it won't happen overnight," Quinn sighed, "But I'm figuring it can't hurt. Any pressure will help."
"How did Annie get involved?"
"She kinda knows about the problem with Mom and Trent, and she wanted in. She thinks you're really cool."
"That's nice to hear, but we haven't even spoken on the phone. Why does she want to help? And what makes her think she'd even like me as a person?"
"Because she's my friend, Daria, and she knows you mean a lot to me."
There was a long moment of quiet. Finally, Daria spoke up. "Sis, thanks for caring. And please thank Annie for me. Don't forget to send photos."