Maybe Daria's lying, so she can make you suffer?
No. Daria wouldn't do that to me. Even if I deserve it.
How do you know? You can't even talk to her any more. And you've used up all your chances with Jane. You're on your own again, Griffin, just where you belong. It'd be sad if it wasn't exactly what you deserve.
I don't know if you're my conscience or whatever, but you know who you sound like? You sound like mom.
Jeez, Sandi! There's no need for that! Just trying to be helpful...
It wasn't as if there was anything else at school to cheer her up. O'Neill was handing out the essays, his touchy-feely guff not hiding the fact that half the class had flunked - Sandi among them. She had put a bit of effort into the last assignment, about how she felt about poly-culturalism, by actually finding out what the hell poly-culturalism actually was. It was like multiculturalism but focused on America more. Still, how was she supposed to feel about it? It was like the weather, good some days, bad others, and it's not like she had a say in any of it.
O'Neill had not been impressed, especially at how little she wrote. What, was he expecting she write the sentence "I DON'T GIVE A CRAP" 500 times or something? She understood the question, she answered it. If he wanted something different, he should have asked for it especially.
Still, she had scored better than Quinn who was actually asked to stay behind after class.
Sandi didn't quite hide the spring in her step as she went back to her locker.
***
And then the next week Quinn's essay was so good O'Neill read it out in front of the class.
The class laughed at Quinn for this humiliation, as any class would, while Sandi found herself dividing her time with jeering at Quinn and trying not to snigger at how bad her essay actually was. It was just one long temper tantrum complaining about having to do homework, so at least it was obviously Quinn's own work and not something she copied off Daria.
Except O'Neill loved it. He thought it was genius. He had it printed in the Smart Thoughts column of the Lawndale Lowdown. He gave Quinn permission to skip English classes. The three Jays were fascinated by her intellect. Suddenly, the idea of being a brain was something to aspire to. Worse, being a perky brain.
O'Neill had actually asked Daria to be tutored by Quinn so she wouldn't be such a downer.
How do you breathe and walk at the same time, Timothy? Not even Kevin's that stupid! And he points at planes!
***
Quinn, insufferable at the best of times, became an outright tropical skin disease.
"Yeah, I might do writing for a career," she was bragging to Tiffany and Stacy. "It's not like real work or anything."
Sandi rolled her eyes, catching sight of Jane and Daria. "Really. I mean, how hard it is to type stuff?" she sneered for their benefit as they passed. Because that was certainly what Quinn was doing, making noise on paper instead of actually saying anything worth reading.
"And there are lots of opportunities," Quinn went on, completely lost in her own ego. "Like, did you know they pay money for those poems in greeting cards?"
"Oh no!" wailed Stacy. "I've been giving away my poems for free!"
As they turned the corner, Stacy looked back and saw Daria slumped with her head in the locker, looking like she'd just given up. Jane looked worried too.
Oh you're not happy ruining my life are you, Quinn? You have to hurt Daria too. Wow, you're actually making me feel better about myself, you orange-peel-haired bitch. I am going to make you pay for this. And my conscience is clear.
***
"Yo."
"Hey, um, it's Sandi. Is it okay to talk?"
"This whole telephone conversation is kinda foolhardly if it isn't. Look, no offense, but make it quick? My brother's band is about to do their "You Make Me Boing" subset of S&M supporting songs and they really like to scream."
"Oh, OK. Um, is Daria OK? She looked pretty down."
"Meh, she only requested I end her miserable life six times this afternoon."
"It's about Quinn, isn't it?"
"That's what Quinn would say."
"Heh. But is it that Quinn's a brain now that's upsetting her?"
"Yeah. It's cheapening the only thing society has left her with, so she's not happy. Of course, this is Daria we're talking about, and her happiness is pretty much speculative at the best of times. You want to talk to her?"
"Is she there?"
"No, and that's not why I asked."
"I'm still too shy. But, you know, if she needs anything from me, like... whatever. Just tell her I'm there for her."
"Quinn's a brain and the Fashion Club President extends her sympathies. Bound to cheer her up."
"I'll do what I can."
"She'll appreciate that. Seriously, Sandy, she..."
"CAUSE OUR LOVE GOES BOING WHEN WE'RE TOGETHER! OUR LOVES BOUNCES WHEN I'M WITH YOU!"
"Okay, Sandi! We'll talk tomorrow sometime, huh?"
"OUR LOVE GOES BOING WHEN YOU'RE IN LEATHER! HURTING ME IS THE BEST THING THAT YOU DO!"
"Yeah, okay, okay..."
***
Not knowing what to do, Sandi went to the library and found the next video in the English thing she'd watched. Even the crazy ant-butterfly war seemed simpler and straightforward than the chaos Quinn had unleashed. The video was called THE SPACE MUSEUM and ultimately proved to be as boring as the title promised and Sandi dozed off with Fluffy on her lap halfway through. Yet the first quarter of the play had been really quite good, scary even, to the point Sandi dreamed of it.
The play started with the time travelers arriving at a place where time stood still. You couldn't leave footprints, you couldn't be heard, you couldn't touch anything - you were a ghost and you could even see your past or future. And the future showed the travelers all ended up stuffed and mounted in a museum like the wild animals at Brittney's house. And when time started again, the travelers weren't sure what to do. Was trying to avoid getting killed the thing that got them killed? Like the horse-owners who killed the guy trying not to get killed by horses?
After that, it was as dull as dental decay about a boring museum full of bored people who spent all their time complaining how bored they were. The visitors to the museum were all loser boys with weird eyebrows and dressed in black turtlenecks, all of them whining about how unfair life was and not one of them smart enough to use tweezers.
When Sandi arrived at school yesterday, Quinn was dressed exactly like one of those double-eyebrow freaks as the three Jays adored her. And plenty of others were too. Sandi felt a nuclear burst of rage, then sudden satisfaction as she remembered this was precisely the opening she'd been looking for all this time.
"There's a problem, Quinn," Sandi said as she charged up to her nemesis. "We need to talk."
With a fresh copy of Waif magazine, and its insistence that eggplant was the new black rather than normal black, showed that Quinn's weirdo example was leading others to make poor fashion choices. The Fashion Club charter did not allow it; it never had, and Sandi didn't even need to retroactively add that law.
"Well, I can't help it if I have influence around here," Quinn sneered. "People admire me for my brains."
What about your sister? She's twice as clever as you could ever pretend to be and even if everyone thought she was fashionable, she'd never want everyone to be the same. You're a herd animal with ideas above your station, and let's see how much people admire you without our shoulders for you to stand on, bitch!
"You're officially ordered to take a fashion sabbatical until you get your priorities straight!" Sandi barked.
Your priority should be to help Daria. You know she's unhappy about this and you're pouring salt in the wound. You don't even feel bad about it, do you? You'd never have felt bad about taking down Tori, would you? I never thought I'd ever meet anyone more hateful than me...
...but Daria has faith in her. She thinks you'd be good for me. Maybe I'd be good for you.
Oh, what would Daria do?
The answer was obvious. Ask Daria. But how? Sandi had barely managed to control herself seeing the Beautiful Girl at assembly, talking to her was virtually impossible. Unless she had an audience, maybe that could help, if she still had to be the fake Sandi Griffin.
"I'm concerned about Quinn," she told the others. "We need someone close to her to make her see the error of her ways. We'll talk to that girl she knows."
"You're so smart, Sandi!" said Stacy adoringly.
"And you'll notice I don't make, like, a big thing about it," Sandi muttered.
"But that girl is so weird," Tiffany bleated, "she freaks me out!"
"That's why I'm president of the Fashion Club," said Sandi with a confidence she didn't feel. "I'll handle her."
***
Jane looked up as she saw Sandi approach. Was she going to reaffirm her love for Daria? It might cheer Morgendorffer up, knowing that Quinn hadn't stolen that from her at least. But then she saw that Tiffany and Stacy were following Sandi, so whatever was about to be said would be censored slightly.
Sandi stared at Daria, opened her mouth, made some inarticulate noises and then hurried away. The others followed.
You weren't lying about being tongue-tied, were you, girl?
"What do you think that was about?" asked Daria once they were gone.
"I supposed we'll never know," sighed Jane. If was something about Sandi's raging Dariophilia, it wouldn't be fair to discuss it in unsafe territory like this. If it wasn't, they'd still be in the dark.
Daria had clearly thought similar things. "Jane, look closely. Have I grown another head?"
"No," she said eventually. "Just the two."
***
Sandi dropped the VHS back into the returns bin of the library and went to the video section to see what the next video in the line was. It was currently out on loan, so she went back to previous entries. A hand slipped ahead and pulled out one marked THE AZTECS. "This is a popular one, as long as you don't mind human sacrifice, forced underage marriages, religious genocide and homoerotic subtexts."
It was Daria.
Sandi froze.
"I have to admit, I never saw you as a fan of nineteen sixties British science fiction," she went on. "Is Quinn's intellectualism rubbing off on you? Or have you just seen all the Lost in Space videos already?"
Sandi somehow found her voice. "I... no. I've been checking these out for a while."
"Oh? What are your thoughts?"
"Cheap. But I guess it makes you notice the stories more."
"Hmm," said Daria thoughtfully. Gods above, she looked beautiful when she was thinking. Quinn looked like she was trying to make constipating sexy when she was being "deep". "Better than worshiping superficial special effects and the latest crap from Hollywood. I guess we're the minority, Sandi."
"I'm sorry, Daria."
"You made that quiet clear the first time we met," she sighed. "Is it something else, this time?"
"Quinn's pretending to be all clever and stuff, and is making being smart look cool to everyone at school. Except she's not smart and clever, she just fooled that geek O'Neill into thinking she was. They're all in love with something that doesn't exist." Sandi lowered her eyes. "I get that."
"What were you trying to talk to me about earlier?"
"I was gonna tell you I'd chucked her from the Fashion Club, just for a while, to try and snap her out of it. But knowing Quinn, she can probably survive with her new, like, brain-status. I was going to ask you what to do next."
"Well, I'm glad you didn't, Sandi. I have absolutely no idea."
"Oh."
"What would you do?"
The Beautiful Girl wants to know what you think! She cares what you think! What you say!
"I... I dunno. All my ideas feel like, you know, they're bad. Like they're wrong, you know? I should be better."
"Well, I don't have any incriminating medical tests for Quinn, if that's what you were thinking."
"No," Sandi almost laughed. She's joking with you about it! She really doesn't hate you! "I was just thinking... well, if Quinn's going to become a brain, why don't you become a popular girl?"
Daria stared at her. "Oh, let me count the ways."
"I mean, show Quinn what it feels like to steal who you are. Wouldn't that break her or whatever?"
"Maybe, but I'm not sure it's a price worth paying."
"Well," Sandi shrugged, "it's why I went to you."
"Thanks for trying, Sandi," Daria sighed. "I appreciate the effort." She handed over the video. "Ancient Mexican fashions might interest you. Or at least how a pulley system works."
Sandi took the video and waved it slightly in acknowledgement. "Thanks, Daria. Uh... I know you a bit better now and, um, I just wanted to say. I still love you."
Daria smiled sadly. "I still don't love you."
"I know. It's cool."
***
Sandi and Fluffy watched the play about the Aztecs. It was better than a lot of others, with plenty of fit young men bare chested and even a guy called the Perfect Victim who could model anywhere. One of the time travelers, a different girl to the usual one, made a big deal about refusing to be married to guy even though he'd be executed in three days' time. But then there was a lot of stubborn refusal to do the sensible thing in this story, with the Aztecs deciding they'd rather keep cutting out folks hearts than get on the good side of the Spanish when they arrived.
Some people just won't learn a lesson, Sandi reflected. And can you really marry someone with a cup of cocoa in Mexico?
Would you marry Perfect Victim, Quinn, just to be popular? You'd probably not want to, like you cringed in the modelling class, but you still did it. Even if you knew it was wrong, you'd rather be popular. You'd rather keep the sacrifices going instead of standing up for yourself. You're more of a coward than Stacy.
***
Two days later, Quinn was back to normal. She was very much eager to undo everything and everything since her essay success, babbling all sorts of crazy excuses that she only "found" the essay and lied about it. Finally, Sandi decided dropping the matter would be worth it if Quinn just - shut - up.
"I guess I can let it slide," she said through gritted teeth.
"Don't worry, I'm through being an intellectual!" Quinn promised. "I'm too well-adjusted!"
Are you medically capable of not insulting Daria every five seconds?!
As they went down the hall, Sandi spotted Daria and Jane at their lockers. Daria shot Sandi a small but beautifully-formed smile and a thumbs up, but only for time it took to blink an eye.
What was that for? Did I do something she liked? Did I say something?
The penny dropped.
It was my idea. She used my idea, she became popular and scarred Quinn back. I had an idea so good that the Beautiful Girl went with it and then it worked.
The rest of the Fashion Club didn't acknowledge Sandi's good mood for the rest of the day, but they certainly noticed it.
***
Sandi's good mood didn't last forever, of course.
With Quinn keeping a low profile after her brain-phase, Sandi had been able to relax. She'd been a model for wedding gowns at the bridal exhibition and all heads had turned. She'd not been able to see Jane or Daria, reinforcing the fact they were in two different worlds, but she accepted it. She even managed to use the old English time travel plays to help in her classes with DeMartino and O'Neill a little. Not much, but a little.
Ultimately, she was still content until the night of the Fashion Don'ts Party.
***
The party, held at Tiffany's house, was quite successful. Stacy had dressed in the torn brown pants and red-skull-leather jacket of the burn-out girl; Tiffany was wearing a blue gauze top showing off her underwear, a denim skirt and black laddered tights; and Sandi had found some clothes she imagined Andrea would have worn if they were the same size.
Quinn came dressed as Daria.
As. Daria.
And she'd brought alone Daria and Jane to watch their humiliation.
Sandi wondered what Quinn's neck would sound like snapping in her hands and if it could possibly be unsatisfying.
"I love your don'ts, Sandi!" said Quinn, a stupid little brat dressed as a goddess.
Somehow, Sandi had enough self-control to growl, "But look at you, Quinn: boxy top with too long bottom and the wrong shoes. Where did you ever come up with that?"
As if we can't see your sister standing on the other side of the room. God, what made you so evil, Quinn?
"I'm, like, an artist, and this is how I express myself! " Quinn preened.
A thought occurred to Sandi and her rage turned to fear.
***
"Lane," she hissed the first chance she had to be alone with Jane, "we need to talk."
"Don't worry, we evolved spoken language millions of years ago for just these situations," Jane replied, idly scanning the party through the viewer of her portable camera.
"Is this some kind of threat?" Sandi hissed, nodding in Quinn's direction. "Is she saying she knows about... about Daria? How I feel about her?"
"Present-tense, interesting," Jane muttered. "Nope, it's just Quinn's usual raging insensitivity. She doesn't even think Daria would be insulted by it. I think it's her default setting."
"Maybe," fumed Sandi. "Maybe we're just finding excuses for her."
"What else are excuses for? Don't worry, Sandi. If Quinn was out to get you via your crush, you think she'd be as understated and casual as this?"
"Maybe. She still thinks I'm dumb enough to buy that Daria's a distant cousin and not her sister."
"Well, on the plus side, she's not overestimating your intelligence."
Sandi cracked over a fresh can of Ultra Cola and downed it. "How's Daria coping?" she said once she could speak again.
"She's had plenty of practice. Her dad's got some old family movies out, proving that Quinn's always been like this. Well, I say 'family movies' more 'exhibits A through Z for why Quinn had to die, Your Honor'."
Sandi snorted and opened another can. "So are you going to film Daria ripping her throat out or something?"
"That would definitely be footage worth capturing," Jane agreed. "No, Mr. O'Niell's got us trying to make a short film for school. Our ideas haven't really been working, but I had great hopes in my puppet version of No Exit."
"What's No Exit about?"
"Oh, a play about finding out hell is being stuck in a room with your friends. I'm sure we all know that feeling."
Sandi chuckled. "A Fashion Club meeting for all of eternity. Scary."
"At least it would give Tiffany time to finish her sentences."
"Maybe long enough for her to say something interesting," Sandi agreed. "She's not so bad. Quinn, though... When is she going to become this perfect friend for me, Jane? Right now, a gingerbread man would be better company."
"Well, Daria did make that suggestion before those home movies brought back all the unpleasant memories," Jane shrugged, getting Cindy to wave at camera. "Maybe she's hoping you'll bring out the best of her."
"Why do I always get the tough jobs?" sighed Sandi.
"Typecasting?"
Stacy was approaching, so Sandi picked up another vol-u-vent and pretended to have not noticed Jane was even there. "Gotta go back to the coalface," she said out of the corner of her mouth. "Give Daria my love."
"I would, but I don't think my pelvic floor could take it."
"Now you're just being modest."
As Stacy came to see what nibbles were still available, she noticed that Quinn's sister's best friend was giggling uncontrollably for some reason.
***
Sandi left her house to join the rest of the club on their weekly power yoga session at the fitness club.
When she arrived she was surprised to find Daria near the entrance. Daria called and Jane hurried over, still with the portable camera and filmed her approach.
Unsure how to act on film, to behave how she wanted to or how she was expected to, Sandi settled for a slightly wary "What are you two doing here?" as she reached the doors.
"Documentary film-making," Daria explained. "We're going to show the world a day in Quinn's life."
"Life?" brooded Sandi in a deep, depressed voice she hoped Daria would recognize. "Don't talk to me about life."
Daria turned and stood facing the camera. "We'll have further updates from Sandi the Paranoid Android later on in the day," she promised the audience.
Sandi grinned as she entered the centre and got changed. Today, it seemed would be a very interesting day.
***
It was odd having Daria and Jane following them around, filming them. Sandi felt like she was on the defensive, justifying their empty actions and hollow routines - okay, the Fashion Club wasn't curing diseases and stopping wars but they were having fun. Power yoga wasn't actually a bad thing, and when did going out for pizza become a crime?
"Are your cousin and her friend going to follow us everywhere we go?" Sandi asked, specifically to get Quinn to acknowledge her sister on camera.
Quinn effortlessly dodged the trap, making it look like it was Sandi who couldn't tell them apart. "I told you, just ignore them," she said.
"You always say that about them, but they don't usually have a camera," Tiffany pointed out.
As Quinn went on about dimples and pores and how she manipulated guys to access their cars, Sandi felt increasingly embarrassed. Daria and Jane were seeing more of Sandi's life than she was comfortable with, getting all the proof needed that she was a waste of their time and unworthy of further contact.
When she realized girls both Beautiful and Unimpressed had fallen asleep with sheer boredom at her life, Sandi wondered if she could ever feel happy again. Right now, she could barely remember having felt happy before.
***
The more she thought about it, the more Sandi began to think that Daria hated her. Why else would she want her to be friends with someone as unashamedly revolting as Quinn? She wasn't even getting Zack's name right as she bullied him into buying presents for her, before becoming so worried about her pores she started screaming hysterically.
"You better not zoom that thing. Stop zooming, I mean it. If you can see any of my pores on camera, I swear, I'll kill you. Stop the tape! I do not have pores! My pores are cute! My pores are tiny! You're fired!" she screeched, forcing Daria and Jane to leave.
That was how you saw me in that toilet, wasn't it, Daria? A stupid bimbo having an ego-meltdown. I thought I was using Quinn to get to you, but you've been using me to get to her. And I was such a loser you didn't even have to lead me on, you told me it'd never work out and I'd still follow you till the ends of the Earth.
Sandi made her own way home, leaving Tiffany and Stacy to calm Quinn down.
She didn't know if any of them missed her. She doubted it.
***
The next day, Sandi was more confused than ever. The movie Daria and Jane made Quinn look like a hero, with people saying it made her look like someone fighting desperately against despair. Not oversized pores. Despair. Sandi had no idea how that worked, no idea at all. Worse, Quinn was now more popular than ever. Seniors were after her now, and girls across the school outright adored her.
Why, Daria? Why do you keep helping her? Why does she deserve it?
Why don't I?
***
Fluffy didn't know the answer either. He licked some of the tears off her cheeks as she cried herself to sleep.
***
"Have you seen Sandi?" asked Daria as she and Jane walked to school.
"I believe so, though it could easily have been a trick of the light or a weather balloon reflecting light from Venus," Jane replied. "The Men in Black assured me the anal probes stop hurting after a while."
"Then they must be doing it wrong. I mean, I know Fashion Club President has been to your house, Jane."
"What gave it away? Trent's reluctance to wear the odor trendae?" Jane shrugged. "Yeah, she's managed to step onto consecrated ground without bursting into flame once or twice. It's not like she can talk to you ever since she revealed how she worships from afar, is it?"
"Hey," Daria frowned. "We've spoken since then."
"Ooh, and what sweet nothings were they? 'Sorry, I didn't see you there'?"
"I spoke to her at the library."
"...that's code, right?"
"No, Sandi goes to the Lawndale Library. Checks out the video section for historical-sci-fi British drama."
"OK, that's DEFINITELY code."
"We spoke a little. She told me how to sort out Quinn's intellectual phase."
"The solution you absolutely refused to discuss with me?"
"The very same."
"And she didn't start mumbling and back away?" Jane whistled in appreciation. "You evil temptress, you."
"And she seemed pretty calm and collected around us when we were filming Quinn."
"Yes, she did indeed spare a syllable to me over the buffet table."
"Did she say anything?"
"Blah-blah, Quinn's a bitch, blah-blah, I love Daria, blah-blah, she'll never love me, blah-blah, how tough do you think your pelvic floor is, blah-blah, good luck with the film."
"...well, now you've dropped that bombshell, I'm going to be thinking of your pelvic floor all day."
"As well you should, Daria, for it is... MAGNIFICENT! MY BRAIN BLEEDS MERELY TO IMAGINE ITS AWESOMENESS!" shouted Jane at the sky, eyes bulging with DeMartinoesque rage.
"And people think you have a negative body image," Daria reflected. "It's just since the film, I think Sandi's been avoiding me. And given how few chances there are for us to encounter each other, it's notable."
"Well, being a self-loathing-closeted-Daria-fangirl takes a lot of her time."
"Last night, I was at the library. She was walking up to the entrance, saw me, then turned away."
"Meh, she probably twigged she was visiting a library at last. Probably thought it was a Libra, some astrological-themed meditation club. That second "r" in library has been the ruin of many a Lawndale student. Especially those who live at the House of Bad Grades..."
Daria wasn't listening. "It's like I've pissed her off or something."
"Maybe you have, you little tease."
"I've never led Sandi along. She knows damn well I'm not into girls. And if I was, I'm not into her. I haven't toyed with her emotions or used her for my own ends. I'm treating her with more respect than Quinn does her dates, and at least I admit upfront they're not getting anything."
"Yeah, I think Sandi's sick of waiting for Quinn to change from a beautiful princess into a friendly frog."
"Aren't we all?"
"Of course, Sandi could probably have moved on if a certain Beautiful Girl hadn't pointed her in that direction."
"I never claimed I was perfect."
"Exactly the sort of humble attitude that rocks a girl's world."
"If you were really worried about Sandi, you'd be trying to hook me up with her, not your brother."
"Yeah, but that's only out of pure selfishness. By marrying Trent, we'd be sisters and I'd be able to burrow into your family's fortune like a tick and suck all the glory away for myself. And think about it, which is better? Daria Lane? Or Daria Griffin? You'd sound like something Gandalf would warn the shire about."
"Whereas Jane Morgendorffer could be the next President of the United States of America."
"I was looking more to take over Cuba, but thanks for the vote of confidence. Anyway, are you really worried about Sandi or are you just trying to distract yourself over this fresh insanity of you joining the Yearbook Committee?"
"I can multitask."
"Ooh, do tell. Is this the pat-your-head-and-rub-your-tummy multitasking or the sort involving whipped cream, ferrets and leather restraints?"
"At least now I can accurately guess the sex scandal that will topple President Jane from office now..."
***
Sandi was shocked to learn that all sports and clubs had lost ten pages from the yearbook. She was much less shocked to discover it was because of Daria, or that she'd teamed up with another outcast. A boy, of course, because there was no way Daria could possibly like girls. Except Jane. And Quinn. And, it seemed, everyone on Earth except Sandi.
"It's like this girl Daria doesn't understand reason, or something," she grumbled.
The rest of the Fashion Club assumed she was complaining about the yearbook. She didn't correct them.
"Well, I hear she's a brain," Quinn said, pretending not even to know who Daria was this week. "You can't reason with brains."
"I'm still going to talk to her," Sandi vowed. "As president of the Fashion Club, I can be kind of intimidating."
"Oh, you're definitely scary, Sandi," Quinn said quickly. "But I think this is a special case, so let me talk to her. It would mean so much if you let me try."
Sandi realized that she didn't want to talk to Daria or even see her again. It hurt so much.
"You're the best," she said, keeping the tiredness out of her voice.
"No, you," came Quinn's automatic response.
Sandi didn't care enough to reply.
***
"Why is she doing it?" she asked Fluffy that night. "Is she attacking the Fashion Club? Is she trying to get back at Quinn? That doesn't make sense. She's always helping Quinn. Is she trying to get at me? Is she so sick of me just being around she's trying to destroy me and get off with some geek?"
Sandi sniffed away her tears and got a nose-full of Fluffy's fur. She sneezed and blew her nose.
"I know she was never going to love me. But what did I do to make her hate me? She said she didn't hate me!"
Fluffy curled up under her chin. He didn't purr.
"I tried to be good about it. I really did. I haven't bothered her or anything."
Deep down, she felt sure she'd done something wrong. She always did something wrong.
***
Quinn reported back that Daria could reinstate all the pages, but wasn't going to because she was trying to impress the Ted boy. Sandi felt a surge of contempt. Daria never used to care what people thought. She's a coward after all. A spiteful coward wanting us all to suffer. Especially me.
Quinn's idea that they get Daria a different boy to obsess over so she'd reverse the yearbook decision was worth a shot. At least Sandi couldn't find it in her heart to give a damn.
"I don't understand why we should help some random loser find a date," Tiffany protested. Slowly.
It still annoyed her when Daria was called a loser. "Now that's exactly the kind of negative attitude that says, "I'm a fashion news reader and not a fashion news maker,"" she snapped.
"Thank you, Sandi," said Quinn graciously.
I could be lying in bed right now with Fluffy staring at the inside of my eyelids. Why did I choose this instead?
***
Quinn's plan didn't work. If anything it failed so badly it made Daria more determined to keep the cuts. So it was decided to make a protest. Kevin and Brittany were already going to storm into the yearbook room to make a fuss, so Sandi ordered the Fashion Club to join in and bring justice back to those with right on their side.
Daria looked up from some photos she was examining as they arrived. She couldn't have been less interested if hadn't turned up. "Uh-oh," she muttered flatly. "The angry villagers."
Does that make you Frankenstien's monster, Daria? Yes, I know Frankenstein was the mad scientist. I even know the monster was called Adam, after the guy in the Bible or whatever. But who cares what I think? I'm the stupid superstitious moron who can't appreciate you, so we're here to destroy you because we're too stupid to do anything else!
Sandi glared at Daria's eyes through the thick glasses. "We want our rightful yearbook pages!" she demanded angrily.
Daria said nothing.
You're not worth even arguing with, Sandi Griffin. She's finally stopped pretending otherwise.
"Hey, everybody!" the blonde boy with the glasses said cheerfully. "Why don't we postpone the showdown until after the sale at Cashman's?"
There wasn't a sale on at Cashman's, but Stacy and Quinn needed to check. Tiffany followed on herd principle and Sandi decided to follow. She wasn't going to get any mercy out Daria today. Maybe not ever again. Those dead eyes in those round frames, looking at her without interest or emotion.
She wasn't even worth speaking to.
Sandi managed to hide her tears by the time the truth about Cashman's came out.
***
The next day, all the yearbook pages were reinstated. The new kid, Ted something, had broken up with Daria and was making friends fast. Daria had resigned from the yearbook, apparently for ethical reasons. Stacy suspected it was from a broken heart; only she would feel sympathy for a virtual stranger like that.
Sandi said nothing about the matter.
***
Sandi returned the latest video to the library. It was spectacularly rubbish, even by the low standards of the plays she'd seen before. It was like they'd made it up as they'd gone along, and not very well either. The time travelers were being chased by robots and they went from a desert world to the Empire State Building to the Marie Celeste to Dracula's Castle (where Frankenstein's Monster was) to a planet of giant mushrooms and completely different robots. Some finger puppets and three year olds could have done a better job, especially when some of the robots built a copy of the old man who looked nothing like him, was a foot taller and hummed loudly. How anyone could fall for that, she didn't understand.
The last bit, though, had hit her. The guy and woman time travelers found they could go home and decided to leave the old man behind. That bit had felt very, very real. He'd been so angry, so lost, so scared that they were going to leave him and he'd never see them again. The others had been by turns angry, sad and gentle, making it clear that they just didn't want to travel through time even though the old man did. The little girl, though, loved time travel and vowed to stay with the old man while the others went home.
You never got to see them say goodbye. And the old man watched, hollow and empty, on some crazy space-TV to see the guy and woman go back home, laughing and happy and together. He told the little girl he'd be fine. It was the best unconvincing acting Sandi had ever seen.
Was Sandi the old man, left with Quinn the little girl after Daria and Jane had headed off alone?
She dropped the video into the returns. THE CHASE, boasted the cover. Something about the thrill of the chase, but Sandi didn't feel thrilled. She felt empty and alone. She was going to head for the video section to get the last video of the set but she saw a familiar brown-haired figure in bottle green waiting there.
Sandi turned and left the library.
"Sandi. Wait up."
Sandi hated herself for stopping and waiting for Daria. "What?" she said angrily, not turning around.
"I'm sorry about the yearbook stuff," said Daria, not sounding sorry at all. "It was nothing personal."
"Of course not," said Sandi. "I mean, it's not like you know how the Fashion Club is all I've got and attacking that would make me feel bad. Or that maybe I might be upset to know you did it just to impress the first boy you've liked at the school and known for less than a week. Gee, how could anyone take it personally."
"That's not what happened..."
"You didn't think of me once!" shouted Sandi. "Not! Once! Is that what you're saying? That you only hurt and humiliated me because you didn't have room in your brain to think about how it would effect me?"
"Not everything's about you," Daria pointed out, eyes narrowed.
"Nothing's about me. I get it, Daria. I thought we could be friends, that it was cool between us. But now all you can say when you kick me in the butt is that you weren't being personal."
"Sandi," Daria sighed, "we're not friends. I only have one friend."
"You don't have to!" Sandi fumed, fists bunched. "You don't have to be alone! People want to be with you! They care what you say, they care how you feel, they want to know what you think! I can barely keep three girls to pay attention to me for a full meeting, and one of them is waiting to take over the Fashion Club! I did what you told me to do and I'm as miserable as ever, Daria. So did you give bad advice? Or do you enjoy making me suffer?"
"I don't want anyone to suffer," Daria began.
"Shame, because you're awesome at it. You could do it professionally." Sandi shook her head. "I make a promise not to bother you, Daria. You or Jane. I'll keep it. At least I've got that much integrity."
Sandi stalked home.
She was upset Daria didn't try to stop her, but she wasn't surprised either.
***
Sandi buried herself in her work for the Fashion Club and its restored pages in the school yearbook. She attended the meetings, fulfilled her duties and kept prattle from the others to a minimum. She bit her tongue more than once when Tiffany or Stacy or Quinn annoyed her; she was angry at Daria, not them. She would let Daria affect her life any longer.
She kept dreaming of the Beautiful Girl, but in her dreams Daria was always across a divide, arms folded, waiting for Sandi to come crawling to her. Sandi refused and stayed where she was until she woke up. They were incredibly boring dreams and left her feeling grouchy first thing in the morning, but she was used to that.
Daria continued to meddle with her life, though, one way or another. Her parents were going to take her to some special college for smart alecs (too good for the likes of people like Sandi, of course) and had decided to dump Quinn on the Griffins. Sandi, still refusing to let it get to her, outlined a fun weekend with Quin and some boys at Tower Point, even planning to "borrow" her mother's car for the day to break out of the routine.
She'd had sleep-overs before, of course, but even when braced for Quinn's monopolizing the conversation with how popular she was and how many boys were asking her out, Sandi's patience ran out quickly. When her stupid brothers hijacked the TV they then immediately fell head over heals in love with Quinn, bowing and scraping and offering to fluff her shoelaces.
You have to take my brothers too, now? Is there anything you won't take from me?
"If you guys like Quinn so much," Sandi told Chris and Sam, "maybe you should adopt her and I can go live with the Morgendorffers?"
"Cool," Sam grinned.
"I'll help you pack," Chris offered.
Even your own family hate you. I bet that's why Daria sent you over here, so mom and dad could take you off her hands and make me hurt even more. I should never have confronted her at the library. Now she's not going to hold back and now even my own stupid brothers want me any more. I should have ended it in that bathroom...
Sandi fought off the despair and said through teeth gritted in frustration. "Quinn, it's getting kind of crowded in here. Maybe Tiffany has more room?"
Quinn stared up at her, guileless as a kitten. "What do you mean, Sandi?"
"I mean, my invitation has been rescinded. You know where the door is."
"You can't throw me out!" squawked Quinn, astonished.
"I was wrong to allow you over in the first place, Quinn, and that burden of responsibility I accept as my own, but the fact is you can't stay here."
"B-but, I thought your mom..."
Try not to enjoy seeing her squirm. At least try.
"Will apologize to your parents profusely, I am sure, Quinn. Alas, we can't take you. If you don't want to try Tiffany, or Sandi, you can always stay at home with your cousin or whatever?"
"She's not there!" Quinn blurted out. "I'm all on my own!"
"Well, if you enjoy your own company as much as everyone else does, it'll be a wonderful weekend."
"We want Quinn to stay!" whined Chris, punching Sandi on the arm.
Sandi grabbed his left ear, drove her thumbnail into the lobe and twisted anticlockwise. "You want to go through the rest of your life with one ear or are you gonna listen to your sister for once?"
"I hate you!" screamed Sam for only the twenty-sixth time that day and ran out.
Chris blubbered miserably and Sandi let him go. He hobbled away, crying silently and clutching his ear.
"Brothers, huh?" she sneered. "I don't expect you to understand, Quinn, what with you being an only child and not having any other children to grow up with. They say that thing can lead to being maladjusted..."
"Sandi," Quinn begged, "please. I want to stay here."
"People in Hell want ice water," Sandi replied. "Gee, Quinn, I never realized you were so... feeble."
"I'm not feeble!" Quinn said, almost in tears. "Fine, I'm off to Tiffany's!"
Sandi locked the door once she was gone.
Weren't expecting that, were you Daria?
***
Dusk was starting to fall when Quinn came crawling back. Sandi opened the door, but kept it on the chain to prevent her from entering. "Gee, Quinn, what an unexpected surprise," she lied. "I suppose it must be urgent if you couldn't speak to me over the phone?"
"Please let me in, Sandi!" Quinn said, hands clasped in prayer. "Tiffany drove me crazy and frankly, I think Stacy might already be crazy! My mom and dad and... cousin... are gone, and I don't want to be on my own!"
"Gee, Quinn, how old are you? I thought you were the baby-sitter, not the baby-sat!"
"It's not that, Sandi! It's just... apparently it can be really dangerous in town! Da... I heard them say that there are mass-murderers and serial killers in this town!"
"What? Like Metalmouth and the Rattling Girl of Lawndale?"
"Yeah and torturers and cannibals and puppy-kickers!"
"Wow, you're right. This really isn't a safe place to be after dark. I'll make sure all the doors and windows are locked shut tonight so no homicidal maniacs can come into our house looking for food and warmth..."
Quinn looked wildly around the gathering gloom, hyperventilating. It almost - almost, but not quite - made Sandi feel sorry for her. "Oh god, Sandi," she said. "Please, I've got nowhere to go!"
"I wouldn't say that," Sandi replied, eyes narrowing as a new thought occurred to her. "Your cousin or whatever...?"
"She's not there! She's gone! I'm on my own!" the girl was almost screaming.
"And what about her loser friend, the artist? Is she home?"
Quinn stopped. "I... I don't know. I think so."
"Well then, go to her place and beg for asylum there. I'm sure she'll help you."
Quinn was not convinced. "I, er, we haven't really been on the best of terms..."
"But Quinn, you're so good with people! And how could she refuse the, uh, distant cousin of her friend if she needed help?" Sandi wondered. Or her best friend's sister? Just how desperate are you to keep up this stupid lie, Quinn? And just how popular do you think you are that Jane will put up with you? Go on, Quinn, where's all your charisma now, huh?
"She... what if she says no?"
"You could always go back to Tiffany or Stacy," Sandi shrugged. "I'll talk to my mum, maybe see if I can get you back in, but there's no promises. And ooh, I assuming you actually get there and back before full-night..."
Quinn whimpered and ran off into the dusk.
Sandi closed the door and went back inside.
"Who was that, sugarplum?" asked her dad.
"No one, daddy," she replied and went back to watching TV as the last rays of sunshine disappeared behind the trees.
***
"Hello?"
"Yo, Sandi, someone appears to have dumped an abandoned Club member on my front doorstep."
"Feel free to slam the door in her face and call the police."
"Yeah, I kind of already let her inside. Once you invite them in, you're stuck with them. But just why isn't Quinn infesting the Hacienda del Griffin tonight instead of la Casa Lane?"
"You're a smart girl, Jane, you work it out."
"Well, I did give sanctuary to a terrified 14 year old girl who has nowhere else to go, but we artistic types are renowned for our bohemian ways. You threw the girl out on the street?"
"It's not my fault trashmen won't collect her."
"That's pretty lame, Sandi."
"So was Daria dumping her on me after trying to cut me out of the yearbook and then making Quinn famous! I've had enough of being her chewtoy. She's Daria's sister, not my friend, not my problem. You two have been trying to palm her off on me ever since I opened up to you."
"...uh, actually we hadn't. I'd like to think we'd have done a better job than that."
"Oh, don't worry, Jane, my opinion of you isn't going to drop any lower."
"Wow. You still want to kiss Daria with that mouth?"
"I don't want to deal with any of you, ever again. Good luck with the brat, Jane, I hope you don't mind if she steals your brother and turns everyone against you but - just in case she does - I want you to remember something."
"What?"
"I screen my calls."
Sandi hung up before Jane could reply.
***
The next week Daria had been hospitalized for some mystery illness.
Sandi pretended to be pleased, that it was entirely what that bitch deserved and she wished it would be terminal.
It was only after Daria got a clean bill of health that Sandi was able to sleep at night once again.
***
Daria regarded the cubist portrait of a beautiful red-haired girl. The Picasso-like structure was hard to appreciate as it was covered in a black outline showing Quinn Morgendorffer about to lose her head in a guillotine. Jane had obviously abandoned one painting in favor for another and not tried to sacrifice more than a single canvas.
"It's good to see you're broadening your collage of styles to emphasize emotional states," she said.
For once, Daria was standing while Jane lay on the bed. She wore sunglasses and had folded her arms over her head.
"I'm pretty sure this is how Munch felt after hearing the scream," she slurred.
"At least we both know now the terrible unnatural horror of Helen Morgendorffer's second-born."
"Yay, we can both take therapy sessions together," groaned Jane. "And you're paying my fee, Daria. You had to convince her that Lawndale makes Steven King's New England look like Sesame Street."
"That's the low-income neighborhood with self-confessed vampires and trash monsters?"
"You left your sister so terrified, she came to me for help."
"In fairness to me, you were the one stupid enough to let her in."
"Yeah, Saint Jane Lane, patron of abandoned orphans, that's me," Jane sighed. "I think I must have got my whole family's worth of maternal instinct - mom, Penny and Summer certainly don't suffer from it. I guess looking after Summer's kids and Trent made me think I could cope with Princess Quinn." She gave a hollow laugh. "Oh, the gods do punish me for my hubris."
"I'm amazed she even knew where you lived. Or even remembered who you are."
"Oooh, that's the thing, Daria. She had help. Sandi kicked her out."
Daria frowned. "Why?"
"Well, you know how I hate to gossip about other people, but apparently Sandi's convinced you have a vendetta against her. She's convinced you've hated her since day one and the whole intervention we did was just a cruel trick to make her suffer with Quinn, so you got to go off and have fun. She's also convinced Quinn has stolen all her friends and family because she, Sandi I mean, is so hollow and wretched and unlovable, so she's going to hate you back."
A pause.
"Wow," said Daria flatly. "I remember when you actually have to be involved in a relationship for it go this badly."
"Those were the good old days, all right."
"First she thinks I'm some perfect being sent from heaven, now thinks I'm an evil bitch trying to destroy her. For God's sake, I've spent more time talking to Upchuck than I have with her. But everything I do is attacking her."
"That's Sandi Griffin for ya," Jane sighed. "Can even make low self-esteem an exercise is narcissism."
"Well, I give up. I don't need Sandi's paranoid crap in my life."
"Not that Sandi's enjoying it either."
"Well, what can I do? I tried to help her before and she thinks I'm out to get her!"
"Not sure. Maybe try to avoid attacking the Fashion Club and pushing Quinn onto her."
"Why do I have to make all the huge sacrifices?"
"Because if someone else did it, it wouldn't be a sacrifice, would it?" groaned Jane.
"Well, I guess I'll have to spend more time in the school library now," Daria fumed. "Oh joy."
"They say if you sit directly under the crack in the roof, it brings good luck."
"And exactly who say that?"
"The committee in charge of repairing the library roof, probably."
***
The roof of the school library collapsed in on itself. Word was Kevin and Brittney only narrowly escaped, and Daria had nearly been killed. Sandi felt she should say something like "At least no one important was there," but she didn't. And she didn't reflect that the only reason Daria would have been at the school's library was that she was avoiding the other one in case Sandi might have been there. Which she hadn't.
Sandi Griffin felt no better for hearing about Daria's near miss than she had about her brief sickness. She kept herself focused only on the duties of being a Fashion Club President. Ever since the night she'd thrown Quinn out onto the street, the Morgendorffer girl had kept her head down. She knew how little power she truly had and how Tiffany and Stacy actually saw her, as just another weight critic and impossible idol respectively. Quinn's popularity was worthless when the lights went out, and only Jane's mercy kept her out of the cold.
Ms. Li decided the best way to pay for the repairs to the library was with a renaissance fair with everyone forced to either attend or take part. Sandi had mentally resigned herself to losing another ten bucks - don't think about Daria don't think about her don't think at all - when it turned out they were putting on a play. It was The Canterbury Tales, which Quinn the idiot thought was written by "Ken Barry" and O'Neill was eager for actors.
"Should we try out for the play?" wondered Tiffany. "We might get on a poster."
Sandi didn't feel like appearing on stage. She was pretending to be someone and something else every hour of every day already as it was. "I don't think the Fashion Club should participate in activities where you surrender wardrobe autonomy to someone else," she told Tiffany. "Let's go to Cashman's and try on sequined gowns."
The redhaired moron bounced up. "Hi, Sandi, Tiffany. Guess what?" she squealed.
"You're transferring to a new school?" asked Sandi idly, wondering if that would make her feel better.
"No. I'm trying out for the part of Emily in The Canterbury Tales!" So she'd learned the title at least. Daria had probably sat her down with a powerpoint presentation to explain it to her very slowly and simply.
Sandi put on a look of mock surprise. "That is so weird. I am, too!"
Tiffany was confused, unsurprisingly. "But..."
"Really?" asked Quinn, not quite hiding her skepticism. "I didn't see your name on the sign-up sheet."
"Quinn, if you don't want me to audition then just say so," Sandi huffed.
And, as always, Quinn folded like a house of cards. "Stop that foolish talk, Sandi!" she laughed. "I'm happy you're auditioning. If you get the part it'll be just like me getting it, only not."
Sandi didn't want the stupid part. But Quinn on stage would get her ego back to dangerous levels, and probably triple the amount of attention and adoration she got. Next it would be "Oh, why isn't Quinn in charge of the Fashion Club? She's the one everyone knows, she's the one everyone likes, why did they ever let Sandi Griffin in charge when she's clearly inferior and even Beautiful Girls are out to hurt her..."
Stacy ran up, bursting with pride that Bret Strand had asked her out.
"Really? Is that okay with you, Quinn?" Sandi asked, not thinking.
Quinn and Stacy looked as confused as nuns asked about Doom 3D. "Huh?"
"Forget it."
***
And so Sandi auditioned for the dumb play. It was about two knights (cousins, not brothers, which Quinn could probably relate to) who were locked up together in a cell and then they both fell in love with a girl they see through the cell window at the exact same time. Love at first sight. Guess it's not so ridiculous. Actually, it's even more ridiculous. It even made these two dorks lame. When they were finally got out of their cell, they both went behind each other's backs to win over the girl Emily, until who whole armies were fighting over her. Quinn is going to be beyond insufferable if she gets the part, thought Sandi wearily, though it's definitely playing to her strengths.
The play ended with one of the cousins getting mortally wounded by falling off a horse (oh-kaaaay) and then deciding he didn't want Emily anyway. Emily ended up marrying the loser of the battle next to a fresh corpse and this was apparently a real happy ending. The only thing that could make it worse was if they chose Upchuck to play the surviving cousin.
And guess what they did.
As she rehearsed the final wedding scene, "Palamon" grabbed at "Emily" and his pelvic thrust threw her to the stage floor. "Hey! Why fight it, toots? We're man and wife now," growled Upchuck, somehow managing to embody every last reason why Sandi had no interest in men.
"Keep dreaming, Charles," she spat and kicked him where it hurt.
Then she stormed off stage, went to the nearest bathroom and tried to disinfect her foot and not think about the gross squishiness of the encounter.
***
Quinn got the part of Emily of course. Sandi wasn't sure if it was her acting talent (or lack of), her fundamental lack of enthusiasm to play the part, or the fact none of the guys up for the part wanted a co-star that would crush their genitals during the romantic climax to the play.
She and Tiffany instead found themselves running a pie stall.
"Seems you didn't get the part," said her mother when the flyers came out boasting a certain "Q Morgendorffer" was appearing in The Knight's Tale. "Standards are clearly slipping at that school of yours."
"Yeah, like, pearls before swine or whatever," grunted Sandi, uninterested.
"I think we should go to this fair," Linda Griffin said. "Make sure it all goes off without a hitch. I really want to see how Helen Morgendorffer's little girl copes with the unpredictable fickleness of the audiences..."
"What do you mean, mom?" Sandi asked, far from bored with how the conversation was going.
"Psychological warfare is always the best way, Sandi. You know, I once did a story about two factories. One was always burgled every other week. The other never lost a single item. The one burgled every week was the one bristling with alarms and locks and guards. The other had a simple chain-link fence. But that fence had a sign saying it was full radioactive stuff and anyone without a suit would die if they went in." Linda smiled cruelly. "You don't stop people working against you, Sandi, you make sure they never want to in the first place."
"How does that help me though?"
"Say something bad happened to Quinn. Maybe she broke a leg? She could still go on stage in crutches and win all the plaudits. So what would stop Quinn? What would make her choose not to go on stage? Maybe if she got stage fright. Maybe if she couldn't remember her lines? Maybe if she thought she was no good?"
Sandi nodded. She remembered her annoying cousin Alex once ruining a family bowling tournament by asking everyone if they breathed in or out when they bowled the ball. Everyone was so busy thinking about their breathing, it put them off their game. He'd laughed at them for falling for that.
Ever since if anyone ever asks me something like that, I give them an answer. Do I breathe in or out? Out. Do I close my eyes? Yes. Did I mean to use that much blusher. Of course I did. No doubts. No hesitation. He who hesitates is lunch.
Linda leaned against the sofa and gazed down at Sandi. "Now can you imagine that happening to Quinn?"
"Very easily, mom. Very easily."
***
It was grey and overcast at the fair. A ferris wheel dominated the fairground, along with a bunch of booths. Her parents and brothers turned up fashionably late while she and Tiffany manned the pie booth. Her mother went off to humiliate Quinn's mom - Sandi had no idea why Linda was so bugged about her - while her brothers immediately led a mob to beat Mack the Magic Dragon to death.
Not long after, Stacy turned up, bawling her eyes out after her first date with Bret had apparently gone nowhere. Sandi wondered if she should have told Stacy that Bret expected a lot more than a good night kiss in return for food and adoration, but it would be unfair to expect that of a naive 14-year-old girl. Actually given the stuff Bret would want, it would be unfair to expect that of a Turkish bordello, bath house and opium den full of the finest prostitutes in all the land.
"Bummer," said Sandi as Stacy sobbed. She took no pleasure in the younger girl's unhappiness, but she found it hard to give a crap either. It wasn't as if Stacy wouldn't find something else to get hysterical about sooner or later. "These long skirts are so hard to walk in," she mused.
"I know," Tiffany sighed, and Stacy wailed even louder.
"Stacy, it's gonna be all right," Sandi said, sounding unconvincing even to herself.
"He's not worth it. No guy is." Tiffany sounded even less convincing.
"Thanks, guys," Stacy sniffled. "Oh, it's so great to know I can count on my true friends."
"So, then, he's not dating anyone now?" Tiffany asked blandly, setting the girl off again.
Before Sandi could reproach Tiffany, the Asian girl was already gawking at Quinn walking past in her pink princess outfit. "I cannot believe Quinn got the part over you," she drawled. "That's so wrong."
Sandi knew that Tiffany would say the same thing to Quinn if positions were reversed. Sometimes she wondered if Tiffany was trying to play them off against each other, or was just too stupid to remember what side she was on and sucking up to anyone who happened to be there. She'd probably do that to Daria - NO! DON'T THINK ABOUT DARIA!
"Oh, I'm sure she'll do a good job," said Sandi smugly, and slipped away to defy her own prophecy.
***
Tiffany tagged along like an obedient duckling (only not as smart) as Sandi went backstage to give some crucial last-minute sabotage to the leading lady. Quinn looked up, startled and clearly some tiny part of her realized she was in danger. "What are you guys doing here?" she asked nervously.
"We came by to wish you luck," said Tiffany dully.
"Not that you'll need it," Sandi said. "You're really talented, Quinn. I especially like your unique inflections. Like, say a line for us."
"Well, okay," said Quinn timidly, then all but yodeled "I will make a dainty garland for my head and sing."
"See what I mean?" said Sandi. "Anybody else would have said "I will make a dainty garland for my head." But you, Quinn, with your... special talent, you said, "I will make a dainty garland for my head." I mean, it must be talent because you wouldn't emphasize the wrong words, would you?"
Quinn's smile was as fixed as mannequin's. "No, of course not."
"I didn't think so," agreed Sandi amiably, then headed off.
Behind her, she heard Tiffany telling Quinn "I can't believe she thinks she should have gotten the part over you. That's so wrong..."
***
Sandi met up with her mother and they took their seats at the theatre, near the front so they had a good view. Neither accepted the roasted turkey legs offered as food, but kept an eye out for Quinn's parents as they took their places nearby. Sandi felt a pang of guilt. She wanted to cut Quinn down to size, not make her own parents embarrassed by her. The cool smirk on Linda Griffin's place showed that this was precisely what she wanted.
What do I care if Helen Morgendorffer gets upset anyway? Both her brats are making my life a misery. They gave me hopes of love and friendship and then tore them away, leaving me a wreck. This isn't even me getting even with them. I'd have to do a hell of a lot more before I'm back to where I was before you stupid family came to Lawndale.
The stage play started.
It was worse than anyone, even Sandi expected.
For a start, Jeffy had somehow got the part of Palamon and was reading the wrong lines from a completely different play as Quinn honked out her line emphasizing each word like a singsong wrestling line-up. Unable to deal with the wrong feed lines, and aware of the snickering and laughter from the audience, Quinn froze up.
Neither Sandi nor Linda Griffin smirked or laughed. They kept watching Quinn shriveling up with shame as Quinn's dad leapt to his feet and roared abuse at the rest of the audience, who immediately started hurling wave after wave of turkey legs until the old guy was knocked over and Quinn was driven off stage in tears.
Linda smiled.
Sandi smiled. But she felt nothing. No triumph, no satisfaction, nothing except nausea from the stink of overcooked turkey. If she had won, then the prize sucked.
***
That night she went to bed and lay there, staring at the darkened ceiling. Fluffy slept at her feet, uninterested in cuddling up to her tonight. Sandi thought about how frightened and ashamed Quinn was, of how Quinn would go home sobbing in her parents' arms, begging to know why it had all gone wrong. And she would tell Daria and Daria would know it was all Sandi's fault. She thought of Stacy running off in tears. She thought of all the boys not wanting to act with her. She thought of Tiffany going behind her back. She thought of two cousins who loved a girl so much her happiness mattered more than their own lives. She thought of a Beautiful Girl who deserved better.
It was three twenty in the morning and Sandi still hadn't fallen asleep.
She thought about things a little more.
She got up out of bed, went over to her vanity mirror and found a pair of curved nail scissors. She twisted out of her nightie and regarded her naked torso in the mirrors. When I was in hospital that time, I remember the doctor lifted up my left boob to put her stethoscope there. She said you hear the heart better that way, because it's closer. With guys it's easy, just under the left nipple. Girls protect their hearts with their breasts. Huh. Deep.
Sandi opened the scissor and slashed the crease of flesh as her left breast sprouted from her rib cage. The line of hot white pain sizzled and she grabbed a tissue to press it against the bleeding wound. Hissing in pain she watched the tissue turn dark red. A second and third tissue were needed to staunch the bleeding, and she pressed her elbow against her bosom to try and force the wound closed. Oh it hurt.
It. Really. Hurt.
Suddenly, Sandi felt completely exhausted. She carefully put on her nightie, stumbled to bed and climbed in. She lay on her right side, feeling tears well up in her eyes from the burning ache.
In minutes she was asleep and she dreamed of nothing.
***
Focus on the pain.
The hot, hideous throbbing over her heart, beating in time with it, was impossible to ignore. So Sandi didn't ignore it. She used it, channeled it like electricity. The next morning when she woke, she found the energy to get out of bed and dial the Morgendorffer's household.
"Hello?" It was Daria.
Focus on the pain.
"Hey, can I talk to, like, your cousin or whatever?"
"That's between you and your speech therapist, but I can put you through. Quinn? Phone!"
A sniff. Quinn was still crying. "Hello?" she asked miserably.
"Hey, Quinn, it's me. I just wanted to ring up and check you were okay after what happened at the fair last night," Sandi said, breathing calmly. "I... uh, I'm sorry if anything I said to you, like, undermined your performance or whatever."
"I... Oh, Sandi, I can't go to school tomorrow! I'm a laughing stock! Everyone hated me!"
Yeah. They did. No, focus on the pain. You caused her pain. Fix it.
"Quinn, everyone knows it was that stupid understudy for Kevin that screwed everything up," Sandi said. "You were word perfect, weren't you? It was him who got everything wrong."
"They threw turkey legs at me, Stacy! All those people chased me off stage!"
"Screw them," grunted Sandi, the pain flaring as she moved her arm. "Come on, Quinn. A bunch of people who throw their food at a performance of The Canterbury Tales after five seconds weren't going to appreciate good theatre. Who cares what they think? If you stay home tomorrow, you're showing the world that you're weaker than a bunch of passing losers who can't even keep food in their mouths! You're better than that, Quinn. You know you are."
"My... They threw food at my dad for standing up for me! I embarrassed my mom and dad so much..."
"I don't think my dad would have stood up for me," Sandi mumbled wearily. "Quinn, your dad wasn't scared of those morons. He thinks you're better than them. I think you're better than them. You didn't embarrass anyone." She closed her eyes. Focus on the pain. "You come to school tomorrow and I can promise you the Fashion Club will support you."
"Really?"
"Gee Quinn, you think I'm ringing you up to tell you this because I'm not sure?" Sandi snarled. "Sorry, Quinn. I'm not feeling too good. I think those turkeys weren't cooked right. You did nothing wrong at the fair. Don't beat yourself up."
"Thanks, Sandi." Another sniff. "I... I really needed to hear that."
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll see you on Monday."
Sandi hung up.
I don't feel any better for that. It was the right thing to do, but I don't feel good. I don't feel anything. Just pain.
***
The agony faded over the next day. Sandi barely left her room. Fluffy, smelling blood, scratched at the bed suspiciously. Sandi suffered the itchiness of the scab forming under her cleavage and focused on it, imagining the skin slowly knitting itself together. She didn't get how people could do this to themselves for fun. At least not once they felt the pain.
By Monday it was a dull ache, and her jaw ached from not allowing herself to hiss in pain every time the edge of her bra scraped against the injury. It was like being stabbed under the tit repeatedly. On the plus side, she didn't think about Daria once. Or guilt for what she'd done to Quinn. Or irritation with the others.
Just pain. Pain she deserved.
***
At the end of the hallway, some boy had put up a table to sign people up for athletics carnivals. Sandi remembered some time last year checking out the track running team, watching the bosoms of girls bounce as they ran. The mere thought of jiggling seemed perverse agony right now. She realized she was chuckling and Quinn, Stacy and Tiffany were staring at her.
Quickly, she covered herself. "Can you imagine joining an actual sport?" she scoffed.
The others said something that ended with them going "Eww!" in disgust. Sandi joined in, trying to work out what they had been talking about. "How are your feet in those new shoes, Quinn?" she asked blearily.
"They're killing me."
"Oh..." Sandi tried to focus. "That's too bad..." Focus! All she could think of was the pain in her chest, just walking down the hallway. If she even tried to run... "What kind of loser would sign up for the track team?"
"You girls don't think I'm a loser, do you?" the boy at the table asked.
Sandi tried to not grimace. "Are you asking if you can hang out with us?" she asked uncertainly.
"Nope. I prefer women with a slightly more enlightened attitude toward fitness."
"Oh, yeah?" Sandi retorted, unable to think of anything to say.
The others were leaving and Sandi followed. The boy said something rude about them, but she couldn't for the life of her focus on it. She made her way to the locker and took the last of the painkillers she had.
They helped. For a little while.
***
The agony was a quite-bearable ache, like an acid burn, by the time Quinn invited the Fashion Club around to her house to watch the Miss Continents of the Earth Pageant. Quinn seemed genuinely glad to have them over, maybe she was grateful for Sandi's pep talk. Maybe not. As Sandi sat down on the couch with the others, she felt delightfully lightheaded.
"Quinn," Tiffany was saying, "your cousin or whatever sure spends a lot of time at your house."
Daria.
"Yes, well, um, she has nowhere else to go, what with her parents being in jail and all," Quinn fumbled.
Focus on the pain. You don't care about Daria or how Quinn treats her. There is no Daria. Nothing but the pain.
Sandi tried to concentrate on the opening titles of the pageant.
Daria's voice was like a lover's whisper in her ear. "Shouldn't you all be running around in teddies and giving each other makeovers by now?" she was sneering.
Focus on the pain.
"Mustard is not her color," Sandi said, not sure who if anyone was listening to her.
The others went into the kitchen for some reason. Sandi forced herself to get up and follow them, making sure she ignored Daria and anything she might have said. There was popcorn there and afterwards, Sandi barely remembered getting home, but she slept well that night.
She woke up in no pain at all until she stretched and re-opened the wound in her chest.
This, she decided once she'd finished sobbing in agony, is definitely a metaphor for something.
The hot, hideous throbbing over her heart, beating in time with it, was impossible to ignore. So Sandi didn't ignore it. She used it, channeled it like electricity. The next morning when she woke, she found the energy to get out of bed and dial the Morgendorffer's household.
"Hello?" It was Daria.
Focus on the pain.
"Hey, can I talk to, like, your cousin or whatever?"
"That's between you and your speech therapist, but I can put you through. Quinn? Phone!"
A sniff. Quinn was still crying. "Hello?" she asked miserably.
"Hey, Quinn, it's me. I just wanted to ring up and check you were okay after what happened at the fair last night," Sandi said, breathing calmly. "I... uh, I'm sorry if anything I said to you, like, undermined your performance or whatever."
"I... Oh, Sandi, I can't go to school tomorrow! I'm a laughing stock! Everyone hated me!"
Yeah. They did. No, focus on the pain. You caused her pain. Fix it.
"Quinn, everyone knows it was that stupid understudy for Kevin that screwed everything up," Sandi said. "You were word perfect, weren't you? It was him who got everything wrong."
"They threw turkey legs at me, Stacy! All those people chased me off stage!"
"Screw them," grunted Sandi, the pain flaring as she moved her arm. "Come on, Quinn. A bunch of people who throw their food at a performance of The Canterbury Tales after five seconds weren't going to appreciate good theatre. Who cares what they think? If you stay home tomorrow, you're showing the world that you're weaker than a bunch of passing losers who can't even keep food in their mouths! You're better than that, Quinn. You know you are."
"My... They threw food at my dad for standing up for me! I embarrassed my mom and dad so much..."
"I don't think my dad would have stood up for me," Sandi mumbled wearily. "Quinn, your dad wasn't scared of those morons. He thinks you're better than them. I think you're better than them. You didn't embarrass anyone." She closed her eyes. Focus on the pain. "You come to school tomorrow and I can promise you the Fashion Club will support you."
"Really?"
"Gee Quinn, you think I'm ringing you up to tell you this because I'm not sure?" Sandi snarled. "Sorry, Quinn. I'm not feeling too good. I think those turkeys weren't cooked right. You did nothing wrong at the fair. Don't beat yourself up."
"Thanks, Sandi." Another sniff. "I... I really needed to hear that."
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll see you on Monday."
Sandi hung up.
I don't feel any better for that. It was the right thing to do, but I don't feel good. I don't feel anything. Just pain.
***
The agony faded over the next day. Sandi barely left her room. Fluffy, smelling blood, scratched at the bed suspiciously. Sandi suffered the itchiness of the scab forming under her cleavage and focused on it, imagining the skin slowly knitting itself together. She didn't get how people could do this to themselves for fun. At least not once they felt the pain.
By Monday it was a dull ache, and her jaw ached from not allowing herself to hiss in pain every time the edge of her bra scraped against the injury. It was like being stabbed under the tit repeatedly. On the plus side, she didn't think about Daria once. Or guilt for what she'd done to Quinn. Or irritation with the others.
Just pain. Pain she deserved.
***
At the end of the hallway, some boy had put up a table to sign people up for athletics carnivals. Sandi remembered some time last year checking out the track running team, watching the bosoms of girls bounce as they ran. The mere thought of jiggling seemed perverse agony right now. She realized she was chuckling and Quinn, Stacy and Tiffany were staring at her.
Quickly, she covered herself. "Can you imagine joining an actual sport?" she scoffed.
The others said something that ended with them going "Eww!" in disgust. Sandi joined in, trying to work out what they had been talking about. "How are your feet in those new shoes, Quinn?" she asked blearily.
"They're killing me."
"Oh..." Sandi tried to focus. "That's too bad..." Focus! All she could think of was the pain in her chest, just walking down the hallway. If she even tried to run... "What kind of loser would sign up for the track team?"
"You girls don't think I'm a loser, do you?" the boy at the table asked.
Sandi tried to not grimace. "Are you asking if you can hang out with us?" she asked uncertainly.
"Nope. I prefer women with a slightly more enlightened attitude toward fitness."
"Oh, yeah?" Sandi retorted, unable to think of anything to say.
The others were leaving and Sandi followed. The boy said something rude about them, but she couldn't for the life of her focus on it. She made her way to the locker and took the last of the painkillers she had.
They helped. For a little while.
***
The agony was a quite-bearable ache, like an acid burn, by the time Quinn invited the Fashion Club around to her house to watch the Miss Continents of the Earth Pageant. Quinn seemed genuinely glad to have them over, maybe she was grateful for Sandi's pep talk. Maybe not. As Sandi sat down on the couch with the others, she felt delightfully lightheaded.
"Quinn," Tiffany was saying, "your cousin or whatever sure spends a lot of time at your house."
Daria.
"Yes, well, um, she has nowhere else to go, what with her parents being in jail and all," Quinn fumbled.
Focus on the pain. You don't care about Daria or how Quinn treats her. There is no Daria. Nothing but the pain.
Sandi tried to concentrate on the opening titles of the pageant.
Daria's voice was like a lover's whisper in her ear. "Shouldn't you all be running around in teddies and giving each other makeovers by now?" she was sneering.
Focus on the pain.
"Mustard is not her color," Sandi said, not sure who if anyone was listening to her.
The others went into the kitchen for some reason. Sandi forced herself to get up and follow them, making sure she ignored Daria and anything she might have said. There was popcorn there and afterwards, Sandi barely remembered getting home, but she slept well that night.
She woke up in no pain at all until she stretched and re-opened the wound in her chest.
This, she decided once she'd finished sobbing in agony, is definitely a metaphor for something.
***
Deodorant. That was the final straw, Sandi knew.
Maybe she should have done more to keep the cut under her cleavage clean and uninfected. She definitely shouldn't have accidentally sprayed antiperspirant into the open the wound. Although it had only taken a few minutes to regain consciousness from the agony and get on with getting ready for the day, it was clear she'd gone too far. Soon she was sweating and feverish, feeling detached more and more from what was happening.
The school day passed with a blur of meaningless noise and sound. Faces rose up through the murk, saying things and showing concern. Sandi managed to smile weakly and say a few words, but she couldn't quite remember what they were. Quinn floated like a beautiful orange pink balloon in front of her. "Sandi, you don't look too good," she said. "Maybe you should see the school nurse or something?"
Sandi was still lucid enough to feel a shudder of revulsion at that the thought of that wrinkled old woman touching her chest and she insisted, "I'll be fine. School's nearly over anyway." She may have said it more often than she actually needed, because she was still telling Quinn after the day was over and they were heading - stumbling? - home!
"Sandi, I really think you're sick," Quinn was saying.
"Sick as they come, baby," Sandi laughed. "None sicker than I, that's fer sure!" She laughed again, but somehow her lungs wouldn't re-inflate. Her legs, which hadn't quite been pulling their weight until now, went on strike. Hands gripped onto her arms tightly and a small pekinese dog started squealing.
No. Wait. It was Quinn.
"Come on, Sandi! Please, come on, we're nearly there!" the pekinese-girl was calling down to her.
Ow. Ow. Owww. The weight on her arms were pulling muscles and skin and the napalm under her heart was boiling.
For an instant of perfect clarity, Sandi saw the Morgendorffer's house and realized Quinn had taken her home, since hers was only a few blocks from the school. The door opened to reveal an unimpressed Daria who's eyes widened in slight surprise as she saw Quinn supporting a sweaty, pale and clearly-dying Sandi Griffin.
"Don't look at me," Sandi said crisply. "It was her idea to bring me here. You happy now?"
Then the universe vanished like a popped balloon and there was nothing but stifling blackness.
***
"Where's mom?" cried Quinn as she and Daria staggered under Sandi's dead weight.
"Is that a serious question?" grunted Daria as together they flopped Sandi onto the nearby couch. "It's just you and me and Typhoid Sandi here. What the hell happened to her?"
"I don't know!" Quinn whimpered. "She was sick all day but she said she was fine and then she just collapsed! Daria, you've got to help her! You know all this first world aid stuff!"
"Because, of course, you ever learning it for yourself would just be a waste of time."
"Daria, please!"
Daria glowered at her sister. "Go to the bathroom and get the medical stuff. Get one of the small hand towels, soak it under a tap, squeeze out as much water as you can and then bring it back."
Quinn nodded and ran off without another word.
"Who says emergencies don't bring out the best in people?" Daria muttered, then turned her attention to Sandi. The girl was soaked with perspiration, breathing easily despite her apparent fever. She quickly removed Sandi's shoes and socks and unbuckled her overalls, pulling up the straps to expose more of her skin to the cool air of the house.
Which was when she noticed the redness on Sandi's upper stomach and lower shoulder. Carefully, Daria touched the skin and almost flinched from the angry red heat. "I bet this is not how you wanted me to undress you, Sandi," Daria mused, "but in all honestly, I don't think you've ever been hotter. Literally."
Using her fingers and thumbs she peeled up Sandi's sodden T-shirt to see what lay beneath. What lay beneath was her torso and bra, which was expected. The vivid red covering the left side of her chest like sunburn was not expected, however, or the ugly red-brown crusted stain fusing the bra-cup to Sandi's skin.
Daria covered her mouth in disgusted horror.
"Okay, Daria, I've got it," Quinn said, a wet towel in one hand and holding a red first aid kit in the other.
She saw the horrible state of Sandi's chest and a look of horror identical to that of her sister's appeared on her face.
"Oh my god, what happened to her?" she choked.
Daria took the towel, folded it and pressed it to Sandi's sweaty forehead. "Get the portable fan."
"But what happened to her?!"
"I don't know, Quinn. She needs to cool down right this minute, so get the fan! I'm going to take a closer look, so don't give me any crap about this, okay?" Daria demanded, reaching forward and taking off the bra. It was, without doubt, the least erotic experience Daria could imagine as she peeled off the sweat-soaked garment, cracking the nasty scab and revealing some yellow-brown pus beneath.
Using some sterile wipes from the first aid kit, Daria cleaned the injury as best she could. It seemed to be a long curved cut through the first layers of skin under Sandi's breast that had closed and reopened several times and had clearly got infected. She found an antiseptic spray and applied it. Sandi hissed in pain which was good; she wasn't completely unconscious then.
As Daria set to work creating a proper bandage and applied some antibiotic cream, Quinn set up the freestanding fan and turned it on. It droned loudly as the cool air streamed down on Sandi, and slowly the perspiration on her skin started to dry up. "Is she going to be all right?" she asked meekly, feeling she should draw curtains so no one could see Sandi topless.
"You do have to ask all the complicated questions," grumbled Daria as she forced herself to peer into the wound to make sure it was clean now. "She's got an infected wound here, and it could have led to septicemia. On the plus side, if we've caught it in time she should recover. If she keeps this bandage on and keeps her power yoga to a minimum..."
"It looks like someone stabbed her."
"Yeah. It does, but it's just a nasty scratch. Probably won't even leave a scar. Quinn, awkward as this is, I need you to grab your President's boob and lift it up and out for me to apply the bandage."
Quinn gulped.
"Just pretend you're a sophomore on the fifth date and she's drunk," Daria suggested impatiently.
"Sorry, Sandi," Quinn whispered to Sandi, then did as she was told. She blushed furiously when she realized all this cold hair had hardened the unconscious girl's nipple against the palm of Quinn's hand.
Daria pressed the bandage against the wound and applied some more surgical tape to the underside of Sandi's breast. "Okay. You have any bras she can borrow?" she asked, reaching to flip the wet towel over the girl's forehead. "I'm pretty sure she's a size larger than me."
"Yeah," said Quinn vaguely, rubbing her palm vigorously with an antiseptic wipe. "Sure. Thanks for this, Daria. I don't know how you can be, like, not embarrassed and stuff."
"Meh," shrugged Daria as she put the medical supplies away. "Once you think of them as overlarge sweat glands, it's easy to work around them. I'm not sure I've got a career before me doing mammograms, but..."
"Uh, yeah." Still blushing furiously, Quinn hurried upstairs to find some suitable underwear.
Daria crossed to the fan and turned down the speed, quieting the motor.
"She's gone now," said Daria calmly. "I know you're awake, Sandi. If you were still out for the count, you wouldn't have smirked when Quinn accidentally groped you."
Sandi opened her eyes. They were bloodshot and barely-focused.
"Thanks," she croaked weakly. "Think I got some deodorant in the cut."
"You should see a doctor. Maybe you can tell them an underwired brasserie scratched you somewhere delicate."
"How'd you know it didn't?"
Daria held up Sandi's bra, showing the complete lack of any sharp wires. "I used my little gray cells," she said with shrug. "So either you were attempting to cut off your own breast, something which the Amazons said really helped firing bows and arrows, or... what? Self-harm?"
"You see any other scars on me?" mocked Sandi with a confidence that belied her knackered appearance.
"You'd only cut at the bits of anatomy you wouldn't show off, and that includes swimsuit season." Daria took the damp towel and wiped down Sandi's face. "And I take it you aren't expecting to let anyone see inside your bikini anytime soon?"
"Yeah. Probably."
Daria glanced up and down her half-naked body. "If this is a ruse, I have to say I find you about as arousing as loft insulation right now - which is probably about as sexy as you feel."
"I meant what I said. I was going to keep out of your way."
"By stabbing yourself in the breast? I've heard about passive-aggression."
"It... it wasn't planned or anything. I just did it once. Haven't wanted to since."
"It's amazing how little self-mutilation can do for a girl. I'm glad you're not a boy with different sexual characteristics to hack away at. I'm pushing my anatomical confidence at the moment as it is." Daria stared with professional interest at Sandi's chest, noting the red inflammation was starting to die down. "So, what happens now? Are you going to contrive even more elaborate ruses to get me to see you naked?"
"This wasn't a ruse," Sandi groaned.
"It's a good thing Quinn was there to save you."
"Yeah. Sure. Anything to keep her out of your hair, right?"
"You don't think I could have meant what I said? That I think you and her could be friends?"
"I think you don't care about my feelings is what I think."
"I just saved you from septic shock."
"So you don't need to find your little sister a new babysitter. I bet Jane's still frazzled."
Daria sighed. "Okay, Sandi, tell me what you want. You know I don't love you. I can't love you. And I naively assumed that, given you were alive for over a decade before we met you'd be able to cope with the various obstacles life throws at you without assuming Jane and I were trying to destroy you. So what do you want?"
"I don't know anymore," Sandi sighed. "I'm not sure if I've ever known. Or ever will."
"Quinn did just save your life," Daria pointed out. "She could have let you wander off on her own, waited for you to die and then taken control of the Fashion Club, prizing it from your cold dead hands. But she didn't. And do you know why?"
"She was too stupid to think of it?"
"No. Because the worst part of Quinn Morgendorffer, the absolute bitterest of pills to swallow, is that she's not actually a bad person. She's made my life a misery from the moment I was born and the thing is, she never meant to. She actually thinks if she can help another human being, she should. Me? I let them burn. Worse, I direct them away from the lifeboats and throw petrol on them. Quinn doesn't sneak up behind people and stab them in the back. That's what makes her better than you, if not both of us. And I thought maybe she could help you become a better person, if not make her slightly less insufferable." Daria took off her glasses, rubbed the bridge of her nose and put them back on. "Quinn's not going to try to steal your friends or your family or the Fashion Club. She'll probably end up with all of them, but there's no malice of forethought there. She doesn't want to hurt you."
"Like she doesn't want to hurt you?"
"It's all a matter of intention." Daria let out a deep sigh. "I'm sorry if it hasn't been working out for you."
"Why do you want anything to work out for me?" Sandi demanded suddenly. "Why do you care at all?"
"Because this world and everything on it sucks," said Daria simply. "And it doesn't have to. It could be so much better with a tiny change. If my parents didn't have stupid jobs to drive them into early graves, they'd be so happy. If Quinn had a guy and kids of her own, she could finally be free of worrying about fitting in. And if my family stopped trying to change me, stopped seeing me as somehow broken, I'd be free." She looked at Sandi. "And if someone could make you realize you don't need to hate yourself, there's no telling what you could do. I wish everyone was happy, that's all. I don't know how to make it happen. Jane and I thought we could help you, so we did. Why wouldn't we? What's a world with a miserable Sandi Griffin worth compared to one where she's happy?"
Sandi nodded slightly. "But you still can't love me?"
"No. But I don't think you're unlovable. I think you deserve happiness, I just can't provide it."
"You think Quinn can provide it?"
"She's a much better friend than an enemy. Take it from one who knows, Sandi. You'll be better off with her in your corner than without. Now, I better make sure you get fully clothes before my dad comes home..."
"Here we go!" said Quinn, bouncing down the steps with a handful of bras and nighties. "Glad you're awake, Sandi, I've got these emergency garments before we take you home. Try these on, and don't mind Daria, she's like a doctor, she doesn't think of people like normal folk to."
"Yes. You are just walking bags of meat and water," said Daria flatly, picking up the medical kit and leaving.
Quinn helped Sandi sit upright and put on fresh clothes. "We'll tell your mom and she can take you to the doctor tomorrow, and we should really work out an emergency Fashion Club meeting to cover these chest-related injuries if wire-frame undergarments are to blame..."
And thus neither Daria or Sandi suspected that Quinn had been waiting at the top of the stairs for several minutes, listening to their conversation and hearing every word they had said...
***
Here I stand - head in hand - turn my face to the wall
If she's gone, I can't go on, feeling two foot small
Everywhere people stare each and every day
I can see them laugh at me and I hear them say...
(Daria as the sergeant with the mirrored shades from Cool Hand Luke. Jane as Minni Mouse. Kevin as Shrek. Quinn as Jimmi Hendrix.)
How can I even try? I can never win
Hearing them, seeing them, in the state I'm in
How could she say to me "love will find a way"?
Gather round all you clowns, let me hear you say...
(Sandi with a hardhat and pickaxe down a mine. Stacy as Howard the Duck. Tiffany with a mortar board and cloak. Brittney as Fred Astaire.)
"Hey you've got to hide your love away!
Hey you've got to hide your love away!"
(Helen as a pirate making Jake in a gown walk the plank. Trent, Max, Nick and Jess as the Tinman, Dorothy, Scarecrow and Cowardly Lion respectively )
***
No comments:
Post a Comment