"AAAAAHHHH!!!"

Daria was hanging onto dear life on the back of Elsie Sloane's Vespa. Daria wore Elsie's helmet. Elsie was driving the Vespa like she stole it.

"We're going to get pulled over!"

"I disagree!" shouted Elsie. Elsie shouted a few more words but the Doppler effect erased them as Elsie drove down an open road, finally turning off to the right on an unmarked road.

The road seemed to wind forever, and Daria began to wonder for her safety. Where the hell is she taking me? The destination, wherever it was, was not visible from any main road.

As Elsie shifted her Vespa into high gear, Daria could make out a house up ahead. Even though the house appeared small in the distance, Daria knew that the house was quite large up close. So this is how they live at Fielding.

Elsie pulled up to the long driveway and took the Vespa to a detached garage near the side of the house. Daria watched as Elsie opened the creaking doors by hand. There was at least one vehicle in the garage, covered in a grey tarp. Elsie dropped the kickstand and sealed her scooter in the empty building.

"How many acres? Corn or sorghum?" Daria asked, taking off her helmet.

"I don't know," Elsie said. "Now, don't let's keep anyone waiting."

(* * *)

Elsie rang the door, and then opened it. "Mom? Dad? Tom?" The voice echoed in the empty expanse. Daria saw a grand piano in one corner of the room. Elsie, hearing no response, marched upstairs.

Daria tried - sometimes trying and failing - not to leave her mouth open enough to draw flies. Elsie marched straight to her room, dropped her book bag, and jumped onto her bed. The bed was made, and everything was neat, the walls colored in a muted pastel pink with a poster on the wall which read "SPAIN". It was a tourist poster, with futuristic-looking solid white buildings of odd shapes in the foreground and the view of the ocean behind.

"You make your bed?" Daria asked. "That's clearly not normal behavior."

"No it isn't," said Elsie, off-handedly. "And that's why I don't make it. Now. Come over here."

Elsie's "desk" was a small wooden table. Daria admired Elsie's P. G. Wodehouse collection while Elsie powered up her Wizard computer. She clicked over to a file that read "Notes".

"Who do you have for English?"

"Ms. Merritt."

"Oh, she's a dear." It was rare obvious approval. Elsie found a subfolder called "Merritt", which contained several numbered files. She clicked on one of the .pdf files and the screen filled. Daria gave the file a brief glance. The file, several pages long, appeared to be a lecture notes file.

"So that's how you get away without taking notes," Daria said. "You have someone taking them for you."

"Well, no, although I could. Hmm...that gives me an idea. Anyway, Merritt has tenure. And as they say, she hasn't been a teacher for twelve years, she's been a teacher for one year, twelve times in a row. I doubt she'll deviate from her notes. And if she doesn't, someone will be kind enough to transcribe them."

"They didn't tell me about this."

"Of course not, Daria. You're supposed to know that already. The morgue, as they call it, is a Fielding tradition."

"So that kid in math class who was taking the notes was taking them for everybody."

"Yes." Elsie let the s trail off. "By tonight, something will be posted. It's a server at Fielding, but you need an FTP password. It will save you from working your fingers to death. Give me your e-mail address and I'll send it to you."

Daria could hear the sound of a doorbell ringing downstairs. There was silence afterwards. "Who's that?"

"Oh!" said Elsie with disdain. "That's Thomas. My brother."

"Little brother?" Daria had about twenty Quinn stories lined up in a queue, ready for release.

"No. Twin. Fraternal twin. Rather unfortunate. It just goes to show that blood might be a precondition for success, but never a guarantee."

"WHERE'S DAD? ELSIE?"

Elsie sighed. "We have to deal. Come on. We'll get the formalities out of the way."

(* * *)

Elsie and Daria walked out into the upstairs hallway. A figure was climbing up the stairs. "Where's Dad?" it asked, to no one, as neither Elsie nor Daria can see it.

"Am I my father's keeper?" Elsie asked, arms crossed.

"Maybe you should paraphrase Our Lord and Savior instead of the Father of Murderers," came the response. "Pater dimitte illis non enim sciunt quid faciunt."

The figure finally revealed itself. He was a young man of medium height with brown hair, clear, intelligent eyes and a kindly disposition. He wore a Fielding blazer. He noticed Daria, and his smile broadened.

"Daria, Thomas," said Elsie. "Thomas, Daria."

"Call me Tom. Don't mind Elsie here," Tom said.

Daria was paralyzed. He was definitely good looking. Must...must think of something witty to say....

"Hey."

"Hey. It appears that Elsie's programming isn't complete. You're actually pleasant."

"Programming?" snorted Elsie. "I call it decontamination. Trust me, Daria, his surface charm is painted an inch thick."

"Hamlet, Act Five," said Tom.

"Scene One," Daria answered, to Elsie's displeasure.

"Don't encourage him," Elsie said, taking Daria by the elbow. "Tom, isn't there a square dance somewhere that's missing a hog caller?"

(* * *)

The doctor shined her scope into Daria's eyes. She returned to her desk and looked at the report. "Hmm. It seems that your glasses are a necessity. Maybe you should try contact lenses."

"Hmm," said Daria, as if in thought. "I didn't know Fielding had opthamologists performing a physical. You might want to explain that breast exam, Doc."

The doctor muttered to himself. Daria's sarcasm was wearing thin on his nerves. "And because of your poor eyesight, you'd like to be excused from a sport."

"Right." Elsie had told Daria that if she wasn't participating in a sport, Daria and Elsie could take General Fitness together. Trust me, Elsie said, this is an exam you want to fail.

"Yes..Miss Morgendorffer. Tell me...what do your parents do for a living?"

"I wish to take the Fifth Amendment."

"Let's see," he said, looking at Daria's medical records. "Your mother is an associate at Vitale et. al. Good firm, I know the Riordans. Your father is a pharmaceutical salesman. Tut tut. It must be costing them a fortune to send you here. Oh! You and your sister here. It also looks like you're not boarding. By choice or by necessity?"

"Is that any of your business?"

"No. Of course, if things change financially for your family, and they can't afford to send you here, Fielding might make an exception for an athlete."

Daria sighed. "So which sport is going to accept someone who is half-blind?"

"Well, field hockey is out of the question. So is fencing. So is volleyball. I understand that at Highland High School you were a swimmer."

"No. I had a gym class where we had to prove that we could swim. I'm buoyant enough to stay afloat. But given my height," Daria smiled, "I'd be at a disadvantage when it comes to competitive swimming. Or at water polo. So there's nowhere you can put me."

The doctor smiled. "Oh trust me, Miss Morgendorffer, there's somewhere I'd love to put you. But since I don't have a shovel and two hours of free time, I came up with the next best thing." He was almost gleeful. 'Fielding, Fielding, rah rah ree!'"

(* * *)

Daria and Elsie arrived at the appointed place the next day. Elsie couldn't believe her eyes. "No. Fucking. Way."

It was the high-dive platform at Fielding's Olympic-sized pool. To Daria, it looked like it was a thousand feet high. "I'm sure Fielding's swim team has no high-diver," Elsie said.

"They do now," Daria muttered.