Party Time!

After eating some dinner Tom and Daria started out toward Terry's house. The only place that hadn't had a line down the block was the Falafel Palace. It was Daria's first time eating the vegetarian staple from the Middle East. She and Tom both had two half pitas stuffed with it and a salad. They washed it down with Ultra-Cola. With food and plenty of caffeine in their systems they were ready to check out the party.

There was considerable revelry going on in Newtowne that night. Daria noticed that the police were clearly making themselves visible to maybe mitigate the rowdiness of the crowd. She had heard stories of things getting out of hand in some places and the result was rioting and burning furniture in the middle of the road. That didn't seem like it would be the Bromwell crowd's style, though.

Tom and Daria reached Terry's place. The house was clearly a bit rundown. Not bad enough for the property to be considered blighted, but the house could definitely use some paint and either the porch or steps were crooked. Daria couldn't quite tell. Terry was sitting on one side of the covered front porch. There was a keg sitting beside him. Tom and Daria walked up the uneven steps.

"Hi Terry," Tom said. "Getting a good crowd?"

Terry replied, "Most of the seniors in accounting are here. Some of the people from management are here, too. Who do you have with you tonight?"

Daria had to bring herself quickly back to reality. The thought of a whole party of accountants was overwhelming. Footwear would no doubt be important, since they would all be looking at each other's shoes all night. Throw in a couple management types and you would then have the ability to pass judgment on peoples shoes. Maybe Quinn's major fit her after all.

Tom introduced Daria to Terry. Terry got up, shook hands with Daria and poured each of them a beer. As he handed Daria her beer he asked, "So, what is your major?"

"English," Daria responded. "My primary interest area is literature, but I am taking classes in writing as well."

Daria and Tom stood there for about 20 minutes talking to Terry. While they were doing that several people came out and refilled their beers. A redhead came out who reminded Daria a little of her sister, except that this girl was much taller. She seemed to want to talk to Terry, so Daria and Tom went inside.

"Whoa!" Tom exclaimed. "The music in here is deafening and there is not much light."

Daria's eyes adjusted quickly, but she truly wished for a pair of earplugs. Looking around the room she saw people talking, dancing – if you could call those drunken gyrations dancing – and others either locked in embraces or looking like that was their intention. There was one blonde that seemed to be staring at Tom. Someone off to the side called out to Tom. He turned toward the sound.

"Hey Tom! Who's the chick?"

Tom answered, "This is my girlfriend, Daria."

As he was turning back toward Daria the blonde walked up, grabbed Tom and planted a huge kiss right on his lips. Tom was momentarily in shock and didn't quite know what to do. After about 3 seconds, and a good taste of the woman's tongue, he tried to push her away, but she was really hanging on. Finally, he freed a hand and pushed her face away.

Daria stood there momentarily in shock.

"Muffie!" Tom shouted. "What are you doing? Get off of me!"

Muffie grabbed Tom again and pulled him in. That is when she said, "Oh Tommy! Muffie wants to feel you in her muffin tonight. Come on with me. Dump this misery chick from Raft and we can have a whole night of fun!"

While Muffie was assaulting Tom, Daria felt someone grab her hand. She looked over and some weasely guy, who was clearly drunk, said to her, "Hey baby. You're kind of cute in a scrawny sort of way. Want to go upstairs?"

Daria shook off his grasp, looked him straight in the eyes and said, "No. Leave me alone." Then she turned back to Tom. That was when the weasel spun her around and tried to put his hand where she didn't want it. Daria grabbed the guy's hand, locked his wrist and then bent it. He screamed in pain. She drove him to his knees. His wrist made a cracking sound. Daria reached over, grabbed a half empty cup of beer off a table and threw it into his eyes. She turned and stormed out of the house. Last she knew her assailant was screaming and she didn't care.

Meanwhile Tom was still trying to get Muffie off of him without causing her injury. She kept coming back. Finally he just looked at her and said, "Muffie, you're stoned."

"So," She replied.

"Well, if you weren't stoned you would know that I would prefer my right hand to you any day. At least I wouldn't catch anything."

Muffie stopped a minute, stared at Tom. Then she slapped him – hard – and walked away. Tom was able to take some of the force out of her blow, but it still stung. He looked around for Daria and didn't see her. He went outside and still didn't see her. He asked one of the people on the porch if they had seen anyone leave. One said he saw a short woman in a peacoat leave and head back toward campus. He told Tom that the way she was walking she seemed really angry.

Tom walked out to the sidewalk and stood there a moment to think. Daria had her backpack back at his apartment. He knew she had her computer in it as well as her change of clothes and pajamas. Had she not had her computer with her, then she might have gone directly to the train station. She would probably have told him to just drop her things off at her parents next time he went to Lawndale. There was a late train for Boston leaving in about 15 minutes. Counting himself lucky he set out for his apartment. He could only imagine what Daria might be thinking about Muffie and what else might have happened that led to her leaving like that. Eating away at his insides was the idea that in those few moments he might have lost his love. His stomach was in a knot before he had even walked a block.

As Tom was walking home Daria arrived at the house. She was angry. Once again she had been humiliated. Her feelings were hurt. Tom had no business taking her to that party. He knew she didn't like that sort of thing. She was also wondering what was up with that she-devil that had jumped on him. Daria sat down on the steps. Eventually Tom would come home and let her into the apartment. There were no more trains back to Boston tonight. She had called the toll-free number to find out. The next one was early tomorrow morning. She just might be on it. She was even considering breaking up with Tom again, though thinking that made her very sad. Slowly she put her face in her gloved hands and started to sob.

Tom could see Daria sitting on the steps of the house half a block away. He didn't know what he was going to say to her. The closest thing he had to a plan was to let her into his apartment, get her something to drink, and then try to talk with her. At this point he was not angry. He was just hurt that things had gone so badly this evening. Up until then the weekend had been wonderful.

"Hey Daria."

"Hey Tom. I'm cold. Can we go inside?" Daria sniffed.

"Of course. I'll do anything for you Daria," Tom said with a certain note of pleading in his voice. He could see that her eyes were red. Tom got out his key and unlocked the door to his apartment. The two went in where it was warm.

Tom turned on the lights. After walking in Daria just stood there looking out the window. Tom walked up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She wiggled away from him.

"Talk to me?" Tom asked quietly.

Daria whirled around and looked at Tom. Her eyebrows were knit tight almost to the point of touching. Tom knew the look Daria was giving him was one of extreme anger.

Daria fired off three questions as if they were coming out of a machine gun. "What were you thinking taking me to a party like that? What kind of place is Bromwell? Who was that blonde?"

"Do you want answers or are you just mad at me?" Tom asked. "If you want, then I will answer your questions. But, I want you to listen to my answers."

Daria continued to stand there, crossed her arms and started to tap her foot. "OK. Spill it Sloane. I'm listening."

"I took you to that party thinking it would just be the usual type of party around here – people drinking beer, playing music, and engaging in some conversation. I did not expect it to be hormones and bad behavior in overdrive. I don't know what happened to you, but the way that guy was screaming I am guessing he did something to get you very angry. As soon as I could get away from Muffie I followed you."

Daria replied in a still angry voice, "I don't like people touching me. I like them trying to check out my chest even less. He deserved my beer in his eyes. Go on with your answers."

"Bromwell is a top school. You can get a world class education here. However, it also attracts the overly rich, spoiled rotten, and entitled."

"Like you," Daria said.

Tom continued in a serious tone, "I will admit to rich and a little spoiled, but I am not rotten nor do I feel entitled. More than a few kids here are spoiled rotten and feel entitled to whatever they want. They don't feel they need to earn things. They hang out, party, get passing grades, and then use their parents to get them a job. Often that job is with a family firm. Parental pull and a Bromwell diploma go a long way together. You know how I feel about parental pull. I want the world class education and I want to be hired on my own merits."

Daria looked at him. Her hands were now on her hips and she challenged him, "Last question?"

"Muffie is the quintessential 'Trust Tart.' She has a trust fund of around forty or fifty million dollars. Her grandfather built a very successful manufacturing firm. When he sold it the proceeds went into trusts for his children and grandchildren. As a result of that Muffie never bothers to even think about money. She is a party girl and never looks beyond the next party or whatever she feels she wants to gratify her urges at the moment. I ran into her earlier today on the street. She must have decided that she wanted me as her toy tonight. I don't do toy. Besides, I have you. I care about you. I do not care about her. I still have you, don't I?" Tom pleaded. He felt exhausted after answering Daria's questions.

Daria dropped her hands. Looking down she walked up to Tom and took his hands in hers. Then she looked up at him and simply said, "Yes."

Tom leaned over and the two enjoyed a long kiss.