Although the extended family came together for the weekend as planned, and I had brief associations with all of them, my immediate family and I avoided each other like the Plague. Not that Elsie would have ever spoken to me unless she wanted to taunt me or she wanted something. Mom was quietly avoiding me, which she did whenever she was upset. I did feel bad over what I told her, especially since I never got to talk to her about Bromwell and academic standards, but I was getting sick of the parties and the balls and all that crap. If she could once just be a simple mother, who did normal things mothers did with their children, then I would have been satisfied. But it was all about the creme de la creme with her. Why she felt the need to impress me with clout was something I never understood.
My interaction with my father was limited to a game of checkers, although that was an accomplishment considering he actually spoke to me to ask. I beat him within 10 minutes, and we didn't speak a word to each other while we played. No lectures, no talks about what I said to Mom, nothing. I wonder if he even knew.
My boredom reached the point where when I learned we were leaving, I privately started dancing for joy. I thanked all of my family in the stuck-up, mind-numbingly pretentious way that would have made Mr. Landon proud, and we piled back into the car on the way back home. The ride back was as eventful as the ride up, and I nearly ran back into the house so that I could discover if there were any messages. Not that I had expected Daria to call; she would have known I would be at the cove and would have called there anyway. But maybe Jane, or a friend from Fielding, would have called.
To my luck, though, I had no love at all. All messages were for Mom about that 4th of July gala. At least we had arrived home late in the afternoon, so after a quick shower, I'd be ready for a night at the Zon.
"Why do you always go out dressed like that?" A voice, Elsie's sounded from my bedroom door.
"To flirt my way out of speeding tickets and get guys to buy me drinks. Oh wait, that's you. Learn to knock." I insulted while combing my hair, paying no attention to Elsie.
"Meeting that misery chick again?"
"Get out before I throw you out." I turned around. God, what the hell was her problem? It was bad enough I was dealing with Daria and Bromwell, Elsie was just an unnecessary piece of the puzzle. As if satisfied with her victory of making me angry, she left. Just as I left, I grabbed the phone to see if Brandon wanted to join me. But no, there was no answer.
"I really don't have many friends, do I?" I thought privately. Not that I had many at Fielding. Like the mindless Kevin and Brittany from Daria's school, most of the people at Fielding were mindless husks, creatures spawned from old money who could think of nothing more then formal debuts, summers in some European country, horseback riding, and all the other formal affairs that my mother seemed to enjoy. There were those who actually wanted to learn at Fielding, of course, but they were still ivory tower eggheads, cooped up in a world of books. I had tried that once, but it was too dull. I didn't have to work very hard to do well at school, which caused all the smart kids to hate me.
"Work twice as hard to be half as good." I remembered a former girlfriend told me when she broke up with me. She was one of those bookworms.
"Why must you love the smart ones?" I thought as I headed out the door.
The Zon was packed tonight. Spiral wasn't playing, and neither were the Harpies. This band was definitely not as alternative as the Zon's normal gigs. Calling themselves Naked Roses, they were mere posers, former high school glee clubbers pretending to be alternative, then an actual band with actual talent. Spiral could play circles around these guys.
"If this is the future of music, I'm out." I thought. This crowd was also completely dull. Like the band itself, it was a bunch of kids slightly younger then me, pretending this was an alternative venue. I nearly left immediately, but I had nothing better to do. At least until the first set ended. Once it did, though, I decided I should leave before I got a migraine.
"Okay, it's time to get out of here." I turned to leave. The second set was never as good as the first, and the first was absolutely awful. As I walked towards the door, I saw a familiar face; one I never thought I would see at a venue like this. With long red hair and a pink shirt, Quinn Morgandorffer would never been seen at a true alternative venue. She liked those mindless boy bands like Boys 2 Guys, a silly trite little pop band who fit Quinn, who was just as trite and dilettantish, perfectly.
She was too close to the door, so I decided to duck towards the bathroom. I wasn't sure if Quinn knew anything about the breakup; Daria never told her anything. Even if she did, Quinn and I had exchanged all of twenty words together in the months Daria and I went out, and I had no desire to strike up a friendship with the girl who only cared about eye shadow and the fiber content of clothes.
"Tom?" I heard her voice call to me.
"God, I just have the worst luck ever." I cursed.
"Hello, Quinn." I had no need to act polite around Quinn. Like Mom to Jane, Quinn had been fairly cordial to me, but that was it. I had no interest in learning the secrets of mascara and fashion, and she had no interest in political structures. I merely passed by her on my way to Daria's room, and that suited me just fine.
"I didn't know you liked this band." She noted.
"Why are you talking to me? You don't associate with anything remotely related to Daria, and that includes her ex." I thought.
"I don't." I replied. "It's so painful to listen to I'm about to shove my hand into a fire and leave it there for about three hours."
"Oh. Yeah." Quinn, surprisingly, agreed with me.
"Okay, now I'm certain you've gone insane." I thought.
"I came here with my date tonight because I heard this band was really good, but he left me!" Quinn whined. "Hey, can I get a ride home with you?"
"Before: Insane. Now: Batshit loco." I thought.
"Uh, Quinn, you are aware I'm your sister's ex." I didn't know if she knew or not, but it might as well have been brought out now.
"What differences does that make?" Quinn asked. "C'mon please." I frowned. Taking Quinn home meant I had the chance to run into Daria, and I knew exactly what would happen if that happened.
But Naked Roses started returning to the stage for the second set.
"All right." I relented.
At least Quinn wasn't talking about fashion in the car. Although she had some complaints about the Rustmobile when she saw it, she shut up when I told her she could just stay at the Zon. The trip to Daria's house was about 20 minutes, and the first half was spent in silence. I was comfortable with the silence, but Quinn seemed a bit antsy. But she was used to being the center of attention.
"Hey, Tom, can I ask you something?" She asked. I had absolutely no idea where this would go. She knew about the breakup because I had mentioned it, and I sincerely hoped that it wouldn't ask me about it. Quinn was odd; most of the time she was ambivalent or dismissive about Daria, but she had rare caring sisterly moments.
"What is it?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the road.
"Can I ask you a favor?" She posed another question.
"I can't get you a keg, I'm not old enough."
"It's not that."
"I won't buy you cigarettes either." What else could she want me for? Why couldn't she just remain quiet?
"Tom! I don't smoke!" She whined. "I want to ask you to tutor me?"
"What the hell?" I thought.
"Tutor?" I asked. "Why would you want me to do that?"
"Tom, please." Quinn insisted. "The Fashion Club broke up and I'm trying to figure out what to do with all this free time. I've tried to do something better then fashion and stuff but I don't know anything else and you're the only smart person I know besides Daria and she won't do it." Quinn started to babble.
"Well, thanks. But I don't think I'm the person you should be asking. I'm your older sister's ex-boyfriend, remember." I could imagine nothing but problems from that arrangement.
"But I really need someone to do this. Stacy's been doing photography and Sandi's been trying to run a dating service for the high school and I can't let them beat me because I know I can do much better then them, but I'm trying and trying and I can't figure out what I'm good at."
My mind started to pore through the possibilities. I had no reason to believe that Quinn wasn't genuine in her desire for a tutor. Last summer, she had gotten one, and in the time I had known Quinn, I had know, or rather, Daria had mentioned, that Quinn seemed to be trying to better herself.
But what would Daria think? Would it anger her? Doubtful, perhaps. Daria wouldn't even know. But part of me thought I might be playing with fire. Daria might think it was some sort of convoluted plot, and, despite all our fights, I didn't want her thinking those horrible things about me.
But I didn't want to say no. Quinn was desperate, and the fact that she would ask her sister's ex meant she really wanted it. Although I could see problems and nothing else from the arrangement, turning down Quinn would devastate her. I didn't want that responsibility.
"I'll consider it." I responded as I pulled into the Morgandorffer driveway. I could think of a better way to turn her down later.
"Please." Quinn asked.
"Doesn't your family usually give bribes for these things?" I teased, expecting a denial.
"Alright, fine, I'll give you twenty." Quinn pleaded. "Come on in so I can get it." She invited me in and dashed upstairs. I took a seat on the sofa.
"Tom?" I heard Daria's voice.
"Hey, Daria." I responded to her coldly. I wasn't about let her see me as angry as I was at the cove, but I wasn't about to let her see me smile, and let her know I was glad to see her looking well.
"What are you doing here?"
"I was at the Zon, some crappy band was playing, and I thought of you."
"What?"
"I ran into Quinn and she asked me to take her home." I noted, stressing the fact that I wasn't here to see her.
"Okay, but why are you in the house?"
"I was looking for valuable knick-knacks to steal. Your father finds some really kooky stuff that would look just great on my shelves." I joked. Daria stared at me.
"Quinn's getting something to bribe me with." I returned.
"Bribe? You already took her home." She stated.
"Clearly, that has nothing to do with what's she's bribing me with, then." I ignored her questions. Her opinion on the matter wasn't going to make me being here any less awkward.
"Listen, though, since I'm here, I wanted to apologize for snapping at you on the phone." I recalled our argument about the cove. It had been on my mind ever since I fought with her.
"Forget about it." Daria replied. "You were just upset. The cove is not much of a vacation."
"It would be if everyone else in my family decided not to go, but then it would be kind of uneventful."
"Like I said, vacation." Daria returned. She made no inclination about anything else I had discussed. Perhaps I should have been thankful that we were not fighting, or maybe she was waiting for me to be even more conciliatory.
"Hey, Daria, I was thinking. Maybe you, Jane, Trent, and I could all go for pizza one of these days. You know, as friends." I proposed.
"Another time. I've got a lot of scholarships to apply for. Big scholarships." Daria dismissed me again. I tried to keep my composure.
"Daria, I know you only ever talk like that when you're making an excuse."
"You've been having plenty of fun already, there's no need to make an already uncomfortable situation any more weird." Daria returned. I could feel my anger rising; I tried to keep myself under control, but was losing my focus quickly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. "You're the one who said just being friends was a good idea. Dammit, Daria, can't we start acting like friends and less like exes." Daria didn't answer.
"Look, Daria, I'm getting kind of sick of this. Ever since we've broken up all you ever do is treat me like you did when we first met. I'm not going to be your whipping boy." I delivered. Couldn't she see how insufferable she was? What sort of friends treated friends like Daria treated me now?
"I'm not treating you like a whipping boy. I wanted some time to sort everything out. We can't all be as perfect as you with your speed making-out, your Bromwell acceptance, your country club parties and your whole elitist world."
"It's not..."
"...your world. You deny it, but it is. You offer to let the scullery maid into the big leagues with your recommendation and don't care about her own merits. What she gets on her own." I knew Daria held anger for me about this. She had mentioned it before. There was no reason for her to resent me for this; it wasn't as if I chose to go to Fielding.
"When did I ever say that Raft was a bad school?" I demanded. It was true. Not once in our conversation did I ever tell her Raft was sub-par.
"You weren't at all excited about it."
"I was surprised that you didn't make it to Bromwell." I defended. "But this isn't about Bromwell or Raft or my reaction to anything. this is about the rejection, isn't it." I immediately turned the tables and told her what I always suspected lie behind her anger at me about my acceptance.
"What?" Daria was both surprised and angry. I pushed on. I knew I was playing with fire, but this was the truth; I could feel it.
"That's why you're so angry, and that's why you're taking it out on me. Because they rejected you. You, Daria Morgandorffer, who spent her life rejecting others because they weren't up to her standards, had a taste of her own medicine. You wanted something, and you didn't get it. You were told you weren't good enough. And it hurt, it hurt like hell. And I sympathized, Daria. Dammit, I cared! I did what I could to help you. It might not have worked, but I gave it all I could." Daria did not speak, but her face told me much. She was very angry, her face was filled with fury. But just behind her eyes, I could see something else. Fear, I reasoned. She was afraid. Was it because I discovered her secret?
"And when it doesn't work out, you blame me, because I passed. I succeeded when you failed, and you wanted to blame my name for it, because I sure as hell chose to be born a Sloane!" I was irate, forceful, although not shouting.
"Maybe not, but you're not above using it. Face it, Tom, for all your talk about not wanting to be from your elitist world, you certainly love it's perks. You go to your private beach and your fund-raises and when something doesn't work out, you think your name can somehow make things all better."
"We've been over this, Daria. I thought it might help, that's all. My world is not elitist."
"Don't tell me that." Daria replied. "You wouldn't have even proposed writing that stupid recommendation if you didn't think it was going to make a difference." Daria's words cut into me like a knife, cut me to the point where I flinched.
"Am I supposed to be lectured by someone who blames me for her failures?" I nearly lost it as I condemned her.
"Is it better then being lectured by a hypocrite?" Daria returned.
"You know something, I think we finally see eye to eye, Daria." I realized. "Tell Quinn I had to leave." I stormed out in a huff. For one split second, I almost turned around to apologize. But I walked out the door.
I drove aggressively during the ride home. Once I reached the house I collapsed on the bed. I could barely think right now. A dark, bitter fury welled in my heart, a voice whispered dark thoughts in my head. I took deep breaths and stared at the ceiling. Daria's words hurt me a lot more then I would have admitted, even were the two of us together. I did think the recommendation would help, truly. Which meant that I had to admit to myself that my legacy was part of the reason I got into Bromwell. But how much was it? My eyes watered freely as my thoughts only came to the worst possible conclusions.
The phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. The Morgandorffer's.
"What the hell? Did Daria call to apologize?" I didn't know what to do, I stared at the phone for four rings. What would I say? What should I say?
"Hello?" I picked up. I didn't want to miss this. My heart raced in excitement.
"Hey, Tom, it's Quinn." The other Morgandorffer sister answered the phone. I felt my heart stop.
"Oh, hello. Sorry I had to leave like that." I was surprised that I could compose myself so quickly.
"It's no big deal. I heard you and Daria fighting, and I wasn't going to interrupt." For all of Quinn's confidence, she seemed almost timid when she mentioned our fight, as if she wanted to disappear as soon as she heard about it.
"Tom, can I still ask you to tutor me?" She asked. I considered the question, now more seriously than before.
"You know if I said yes, I wouldn't be able to tutor you at your house." I noted.
"It doesn't matter. I really need this." She begged. Now I considered this very seriously. I felt a wave of compassion creep over me. Here was Quinn, fashionista to the extreme, trying desperately to become better and be a person with her own mind. She didn't want to be defined by her past, even to the point where she'd consider a person who, just hours ago, was fighting in her living room with her sister. That took guts, and a heavy duty of desperation. She reminded me of another fool desperately trying to escape his past. But then my thoughts drifted back to Daria.
"What would she think?" I thought to myself. Daria's opinion, despite all of our fights, still mattered to me. It still hurt me. Would she try to put a stop to things, and make freaky accusations, like Jane did before Daria and I went out? I didn't know what to think for a moment. Soon after I considered that, I considered a darker thought. Daria thought I was worthless, using my name rather then my talents to succeed. So if I made Quinn a success, not only would it prove to Daria that I was right, but Quinn would be her mantle of shame. Daria's very own sister sought out her ex because of his brains. It would devastate her.
I didn't want that to be my sole motivation, and I tried to blot it from my thoughts. Then I realized Quinn was still on the phone.
"Monday and Thursday." I told her. "Two hour lessons, 1 to 3. We'll meet at the library."
