_The Look-Alike Series_ Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit Season 2, episode 9: "How the Other Half Lives" prose adaptation by Austin Loomis "Look at 'em go, look at 'em kick Makes you wonder how the other half live" -- INXS, "Devil Inside" ACT 1: COFFEE AND TV It was a calm, quiet early Sunday morning in Lawndale, USA, when the dark blue car pulled up in front of 1111 Glen Oaks Lane, better known to us as Morgendorffer Home Base, and Quinn Morgendorffer got out. She waved at the car, and Stacy drove away. Then Quinn looked at the house she lived in with equal measures of fear, anger, and general misery. * * * Up the street a ways, in the kitchen of 111 Howard Drive (alias Casa Lane), houseguest Lynn Cullen, in her grey T-shirt and black skirt, was rooting around through the cupboards. Her hair was tangled, hanging in slightly wavy tendrils, and generally looked like she'd slept on it wrong. She retrieved a pack of coffee from one of the cupboards, looked at the label, and made a face. Her host, Jane Lane, entered in her red shirt and black shorts, with a similar head of bed hair. "Is this the only coffee you have?" Lynn asked her. "Yep," Jane confirmed. "Damn. I was hoping for more of a bang." She got a thoughtful look. "You got a mortar and pestle?" "Yep." Jane gestured to a cabinet. As Lynn got out the mortar and pestle, something registered. "More bang? That's espresso..." "I know. Maybe if I make it like Turkish..." She retrieved the mortar and pestle, poured in the coffee grounds, and commenced manual grinding procedures. Jane blinked sleepily. "Ooo-kay..." She sat down at the table, deciding it was too early to pursue the matter further. That reminded her. "Eight a.m. Sunday. Spring break. You're up." After a moment's pause for the implicit question to be answered, she decided she'd have to go ahead and ask it. "Why?" "I had that nightmare again." "Science class, pink taffeta, no notes, project with Kevin?" "No, thank God. That one has at least had the decency not to go into reruns." "Green rabbits nibbling your..." "No, that was you." "Hmm...that leaves single mother, dead-end secretarial job, no life." "Bingo." They both shuddered. Their mutual friend Daria Morgendorffer made her entrance, like Lynn wearing her usual T-shirt and skirt without the jacket, like both of them showing definite bed-hair. She watched as Lynn sifted the powder she'd just created into a pan, added water and started it on the boil. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Coffee. Sort of. It might be lethal." A shrug. "I think I'll pass." She remembered Lynn saying "it would scare you to find out" how she made the super-strong coffee that had gotten her through the Lawndale IQ Showcase and that stupid writing contest, but Lynn always said _You think I'm kidding,_ and where Daria and coffee were concerned, she'd been right as usual. To complete the set, A.P. McIntyre -- the first actual boyfriend Daria had had in her seventeen-year sentence on Earth -- joined them, with even rattier hair than the rest of them -- the style was Einstein- esque, but his coloration made him look more like "Young Einstein," yet another concept it was too damn early in the morning to confront. Like Jane, he was still in sleepwear mode -- in his case, this meant a pair of _Dexter's Laboratory_ boxer shorts and a pair of _Simpsons_ socks. "Meef," he philosophized. "Yeah, whatever," Lynn replied. "Sit down; coffee's on." She opened the cupboard, got out some sugar, and poured a generous helping into the simmering black sludge in the pan. "Ymrgh." He sat down at the table. Jane was suitably impressed. "I thought *I* was bad at mornings." "Nothing," Lynn informed her, "beats A.P. at incoherence in the morning...and that includes Trent, Jesse, Nick, Max and most species of bear." "And on what grounds are you making a distinction between the two?" wondered Daria. "Bears eat less pre-hibernation." She grabbed three mugs, poured the vaguely liquid dark brown glop into them, then looked at them dubiously. "It's coffee, Jim, but not as we know it." She turned to A.P. "Milk?" "Dmmr," he replied. "Actually, I think it might. Milk might make it runnier." "Yrrthn." She added milk. Daria and Jane stared at this exchange. Daria was the one to say what they both were thinking. "You *understood* that?" "Oh yeah," Lynn confirmed. "One day I'll show you the _Grog- English Dictionary_ -- my project of the year for 1994." She stirred the coffee and handed it to A.P. "Animal Test One -- effect of new coffee recipe on common Techno-weasel. Drink up; I want to see if it's toxic." A.P. swigged the contents of the mug down in one glag. Daria, Jane and Lynn watched expectantly. Three, two, one...A.P.'s eyes widened and he began to make strange wheezy choking sounds. "What...*was*... that?" he strangulated. Lynn and Jane looked at each other speculatively. Daria noted the look and grabbed their mugs off the counter, dumping the contents down the sink. Jane and Lynn looked disappointed. Daria was too busy being concerned. "You okay, A.P.?" He was improving slightly. "Gah...aftertaste..." Then the caffeine kicked in and his neurons started firing, particularly those connected to his speech centers. "OheyIgottagethome, Dadkindofordered metofixthePCathome, lousypieceofcrapthoughitis, ormyallowancegetscutso Iwon'tbearoundmuchthispringbreakbutI'llseeyouaroundsometime, 'kayErudite Emerald?" Daria was at once stunned and slightly disappointed, and the combination was too much to let her get a real reply out. "I..." "Great sorry seeya!" He exited the kitchen. Lynn realized something and called after. "You might want to put some..." The door slammed. "...clothes on." After a moment, the doorbell rang. The girls shared a smirk. * * * Later, at Pizza King, the girls were gathered in their usual booth. Daria looked grim. Jane looked half-amused, half-disgruntled. "Well," Art-Smart Scarlet allowed as, "that whole scenario could have been a lot worse." Lynn tried to think how. "You mean Penny could have slapped A.P. even *harder* when she barged into the living room and found him putting his pants on?" "Yeah, something like that. And at least Wind was too busy sobbing over Lorraine to notice what A.P. was wearing when they met on the doorstep." She took a moment to nerve herself. "Is it okay if I stay at your house until the rest of the family checks out? I might not bother if it was only Wind, Penny and Mom, but when Adrian and Courtney turned up I knew Summer wasn't far away. And Mom said something about Dad coming back from Puerto Vallarta." _And I'd just about gotten over the *last* family togetherness nightmare. I don't know what I did to deserve an encore, but it can't have been *that* bad._ "Yeah, it's fine. Mom's still in Boston so there's no problem there. And you and Daria might be halfway decent company over spring break. That is, if you're still staying, Daria." "Yeah, well," Daria reflected, "it's probably safer for all concerned if I stay away from the house for a few days." "Oh yeah," Jane remembered, "that parent crap you were talking about. You never explained that." Daria was hesitant to tell the story, afraid she might say too much too soon. "Well, when I came home to pick up the video for last night, I ran into Quinn. And we both found Mom going through Quinn's room. She'd already been in mine." She turned to Lynn. "Thanks for lending me that book, by the way." "_Hideaway_? Told you it was the best five bucks I ever spent." She allowed herself a slight smirk at the thought of the use she'd gotten from that book of _Places to Stash Incriminating Evidence that Even FBI Agents Wouldn't Suspect!_ "So she found diddly?" "Well, except for the collection of violent poetry on the closet wall." Jane was somehow less than convinced. "And that's it?" Her prying into topics Daria wasn't ready to discuss just yet (like the discovery that a fair chunk of her history was a lie) made Daria ever so slightly angry. "Isn't that enough?" Okay, *very* angry. Thankfully, Daria was spared from having to tell the full story by the arrival of Jodie Abigail Landon, looking as POed as Daria felt. "Hey, guys," she said with an aplomb that her face belied. "Hey." "Yo." "Hi," they greeted her. Lynn, last to speak, added, "Is there a particular reason that smoke seems to be exuding from your ears?" "Well, remember when I told you my mom thought my not giving a damn was just a phase?" They all nodded slightly -- that "phase" had been building for a long time, but Andrew and Michelle seemed to have missed all the signs until Daria and Lynn had helped her overcome her inner doormat. "Well, she's decided that this phase has gone on long enough and now wants to send me to a psychologist." Daria, Jane and Lynn all winced -- the look-alikes winced harder, remembering how the Nazi Jackboot had threatened them with the same before Operation Faeces Tauri. "So I either go back into at least a few of my extracurricular activities or I go and get my head shrunk." She sighed a *very* heavy sigh. "Why do I even bother?" "The eternal question," Daria confirmed. "Have a seat and join the rest of us in cursing the family ranks." Jodie seated herself in the empty space. "I'm actually glad I ran into you guys. I was wondering if I could stay with one of you over at least some of spring break. I have got to get out of the house or I may do something unpleasant." "Well, far be it from me to instigate a vicious bloodbath," Lynn shrugged. "At least, unless I'm the one pulling the trigger. You can stay at my house. It seems to be the safe haven for the teenage damned this week anyway." "Thanks." She had a thought. "Hey, we can make an event of it!" The three Jacketeers eyed her cautiously. "If you're thinking slumber party..." Daria warned. "No, not quite. I just thought it could be a *little* more festive than just the four of us hiding out from our families for a few days." "Okay," Lynn decided, "a crash-out it is, then." "What exactly is a crash-out?" Jane wondered. "Or don't I want to know?" "A crash-out is an all-night party. I went to one with Jan when I was staying in London last summer. Basically, you hang around, watch movies, listen to music, get hammered if desired..." _There's more to it than that, actually, but the full reality would warp your fragile little mind. It certainly did mine._ "Sounds like what we normally do," Daria shrugged. "Well, except the getting hammered part." "Do the words Electric Ballroom ring a bell?" Jane teased. In that scary unison they do sometimes, the look-alikes replied, "I hate you." "Okay," Jodie sounded slightly dubious. "But hammered is optional?" "Absolutely," Lynn confirmed. "Can I get in on this?" Andrea Thorne asked, peeking around the seat from the next booth. "*Augh!*" the foursome intelligently replied. "Um...hi, Andrea," said Lynn, first to recover enough to speak. "Hey. So am I in?" "Sure...if you want to be." "Why would you want to be?" Jane wondered. Andrea just stared at her. "Hey, just asking." "Do you actually know where I live?" Andrea shook her head. "Fifteen Glenview Road. Say seven-thirty?" A nod. "Bring...something. I trust your judgement. I think." Andrea nodded and left. The girls stared after her, then look at each other and shared a silent _Ooo-kay..._ ACT 2: AMAZED Daria had once described her sister's chambers as "a dream room, caused by eating too much cotton candy before bedtime." Now Quinn was sitting on her bed, reading _Tina and the Tennis Pro_. There was a knock on the door -- a very tentative knock. "No," she said. The door opened anyway, and Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer entered her younger spawn's dwelling. "What part of `No' don't you *get?* "Quinn..." Helen sighed. "I just wanted to apologize..." "Oh, yeah, that makes it just *fine* that you came into my room and did all that...esplanade!" "Quinn...first of all, I think you mean `espionage'..." "What-*ever!*" "And I can't take back what I did. I just wanted you to know I was sorry for it." "You just don't *get* it, Mom! You can say *anything* but that doesn't make it *true!*" Another sigh. "All right, Quinn. How do I *show* you I'm sorry?" This met with a blank look from Quinn. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but..." She pulled out her platinum credit card and held it out to Quinn. Quinn stared at it, and then at her, with a mixture of shock and disgust for a moment, until she could trust herself to speak. "Muh- *om!* What makes you think you can buy my inflection with *money* all the time? This isn't like...like telling me I can't double-date without another girl -- this is, like, *portrayal!*" This met with a shocked look from Helen, but Quinn scarcely noticed. "Ooh, you just don't understand!" _And that makes two of us,_ she thought as she went to her closet, grabbed a bag from the floor and started throwing clothes in at random. "Quinn, you're not going anywhere!" "You didn't stop *Daria* from going anywhere!" Helen opened her mouth, got a panicked look, and shut it again, just staring after Quinn as she stormed out. * * * Figuring Daria had probably gone over to stay with that Jane girl, Quinn dragged herself and her bag to the Lanes' front door and opened it. Some sandy-haired guy she didn't know was standing there. "Oh! Hello! Who are you?" This was probably either a friend of Trent's or one of Jane's weird relatives. Either way, he ought to know Jane. "Um...I was looking for Daria -- she's Jane's friend?" "Oh. Um. Jane. She might be around somewhere." Then his tone turned flirtatious. "Why don't you come in? If she's not in here, she's sure to come back sometime..." A year ago -- heck, six months ago -- Quinn might have been interested. But since she'd found a guy she actually wanted to keep, prepositions like that had a *lot* less repeal. Trent appeared behind the sandy-haired guy, with a duffel bag over his shoulder and an irritated expression on his face. "Wind, you're in enough trouble with women without picking up jailbait..." Then he noticed who this "Wind" (Quinn kind of remembered the name; Trent's and Jane's big brother) was talking to. "Oh. Daria's sister. Hey." "Look, you," Quinn snapped, "I have a..." She decided if it hadn't worked last time, it wasn't gonna work this time either. "...oh, never mind. I wanted to find Daria and thought Jane might know where she was." "Well, Janey said something about staying at Lynn's house. 15 Glenview Road." "Where are you going, Trent?" Wind blurted. "You said we'd talk about wanting women you can't have!" Trent rolled his eyes. "I'm going to borrow the Tank, Wind. I'll park it in the driveway so you know where to find me if you need me. Why don't you go vent at Penny for awhile?" Wind got a thoughtful look on his face and went back into the house. Trent passed Quinn on the way out. "Later, Daria's sister." He loped off. Quinn looked after him with an exasperated expression, then sighed, picked up her bag and started walking. * * * Daria, Jane and Lynn entered the kitchen of Chez Cullen. "Daria," Lynn asked right off, "can you see if there's anything remotely like snack food in the pantry?" Daria headed across the room and vanished into the pantry. Lynn opened the fridge. "Hey, Lynn," Jane asked, "what do you think really happened between Daria and Helen?" "Hmm...the only difference between the fridge here and the fridge at Aunt Lorna's is that there's nothing decomposing here." "Oh, come on, Lynn, you must have at least a guess!" "We're going to have to do at least some shopping. There's a well-stocked liquor cabinet but no real food. Unless your idea of party food is microwaved chicken curry for one." "You're not even curious, are you?" Lynn sighed. "I *am,* but I'm not going to press her. She's upset enough as it is. You can push her for answers if you want to, but give me a few minutes' clear warning so I can get the hell out of range." She went back to her contemplation of the fridge. "Well, there are pickles, so that's something. And a jar of maraschino cherries, for some obscure reason..." Jane rolled her eyes and sighed, then started going through one of the cupboards. Daria returned from the pantry. "I found a packet of Ding-Dongs, if that helps. Nothing else -- no real food -- just a packet of Ding- Dongs." "We're going to have to go food shopping," Lynn unnecessarily announced. "This is not going to feed everyone." The doorbell rang. When they opened the front door, they found Quinn, bag over shoulder, looking dishevelled. Daria, Jane and Lynn were all a little shocked. "Um...can I talk to you, Daria?" Quinn wondered. Jane and Lynn looked at each other. Daria just stared at Quinn. Lynn had an idea. "I think this is our cue to pick up supplies, Jane." "But..." Jane suggested. "We'll be back in a while. Any requests, Daria?" Daria thought a moment. "Um...anything but lasagna." "Come *on,* Jane..." "But..." Jane reiterated. "I actually own a cattle prod, it might interest you to know." Jane went pale. "Eep." She allowed herself to be hustled out. Quinn and Daria looked at each other for a long moment, and then Daria stepped aside a little and waved her sister in. They went up to Lynn's dark and mysterious room. Daria seated herself on Lynn's desk chair, and Quinn sat down on the bed. "I take it you talked to Mom," Daria opened talks. "She, like, tried to say sorry for looking at my diary. Then when I said I didn't believe her and stuff she took out her platinum card." "And yet you're here, instead of bankrupting the family at Cashman's." "I...I didn't take it. I don't know *why* I didn't take it. I've been trying to think why and..." She sighed. "...well, I can't." _Can't think why, or just can't think?_ She thought that, but didn't say it -- once again, it was clear that Quinn was doing a better job of tormenting herself than her elder sibling could ever manage. "Welcome to the world of deep thought. And you want me to be your water wings. -- Okay, Quinn. Mom did something wrong. *Badly* wrong. And she tried to buy you off. Which didn't address the problem. So you got offended because she thinks it does." "Okay..." Quinn replied slowly. "I think I understand. You're saying it didn't go deep enough?" "Exactly." Something occurred to her. "You didn't really need me for this. Why did you come to me?" "Well, not only are you smart and good at thinking about upsetting stuff..." That got a disgruntled look from Daria (who hated the general assumption that, just because she wasn't afraid to look an unpleasant reality in the face, she was somehow *attracted* to that whole sphere of activity), but Quinn didn't really notice. "...you're my..." "Cousin? Au pair?" _Visiting exchange student?_ Then, quietly, "Half sister?" "No, I never said that last one. I..." She stopped in her tracks, staring at Daria, as she realized the implications. "You're kidding." "An additional bombshell from Mom after you left last night." Quinn seemed oddly relieved. "Well, I should have known! I mean, we *couldn't* be *completely* related!" No, it wasn't odd -- it was kin to the relief Daria had felt when she learned she wasn't Jake Morgendorffer's daughter after all, complete with the feeling of having always deep-down suspected, though without the complementary sense of having one of your worldview's key supports kicked over. "But I can still call you my cousin at school and my sister when I need you, right?" Daria sighed. "If you must. So that's you squared away. What's with the bag?" "I just needed to get away. I thought you'd be at Jane's and I've stayed there before and...I needed to cut loose and *you* guys know how not to care about other people and I wanted to be somewhere where no one cared and, like, everyone blew off their parents and stuff so that I could do that too." She finished, meekly, "I can't do it alone. Can I please stay here?" "Well, it's up to Lynn. But I have no problem with that." "You *don't?*" "Just...just try to refrain from being so...you in these four walls, okay?" Quinn nodded meekly. Daria stifled a sigh. _What am I getting us into?_ * * * A.P. was in the usual place, brooding over a pizza, when Captain Sanity, listed on the school rosters as Michael Jordan Mackenzie, came along. "Hey," said Mack. "Hey ho," the Psycho-Maverick replied. "Looking for someone?" "I was hoping Jodie was around. She's in an evil mood and she won't say why." "Well, I hope you can row, 'cause we're in the same boat. I busted my butt working on Dad's computer so I could hang with the gang this week and now they're hiding from me." He sighed. "I don't know; I mean, I just wish Erudite Emerald would trust me more..." "Erudite Emerald?" Mack took a moment to think about the name before it dawned on him. "Oh, Daria." "Right. I mean, Purple Peril would trust me with her life... if not her car. I just..." Ted DeWitt-Clinton approached them, looking flustered. "You know Daria, don't you?" "I sometimes wonder." "Did she happen to say anything to you about where Quinn was? Only I was supposed to be on a date with her tonight and her father won't let me in the front door and her mother became somewhat depressed when I asked." "There's something going on at the Morgendorffers. Last time I saw Erudite Emerald, she was at Jane's. She might know what's going on with the Overachiever *and* with Narcissa." "Excuse me, but I hope you're not referring to Quinn. That's rather unkind." A.P. was a little amazed for a moment, then gave an apologetic shrug. _Should have figured Bubble Boy would get the codename. And at least he didn't say it wasn't *true.*_ * * * Kate Cullen had used three main design tools when decorating her living room -- a lot of money, an Ikea catalogue and no imagination. Jane and Quinn were sitting on the sofa watching as Daria and Lynn conversed. "It's not that I mind, exactly," Lynn insisted. "It's just that I have to wonder when the house became a safe house for those whose parents are, in a metaphorical sense, engaging in unnatural sex practices with them." Daria got a half-smile. "And you'd rather it become a safe house for those whose parents are, in a *literal* sense, engaging in unnatural sex practices with them?" "I hate you." Quinn got concerned. "Maybe I'd better not stay. I don't want to make them fight." "What makes you think they're fighting?" Jane asked her. "This is normal." "But she just said she *hates* Daria! I mean, not even *Sandi* ever said that to my *face!*" "Which would you prefer -- someone who says they hate you but you know they don't, or someone who never says that but you know they do?" Quinn got a thoughtful look as she considered that. The scary part was, it almost made sense. "And that's, like...normal?" "If you have the right sense of humor and a healthy disregard for what people think of you. And we do." _Or at least, we like to think so._ The doorbell rang. "Hey, Tweedledum and Tweedledumber! Door!" In unison as usual, Daria and Lynn replied, "Go to hell, Lane." Jane turned to Quinn with a smirk. "See?" She turned back to the look-alikes. "I'll get it, then, shall I?" And she moved off, leaving Quinn to think about what she'd said. After a moment, Quinn smiled. ACT 3: NO SLEEP 'TIL BROOKLYN A.P., Mack and Ted approached Casa Lane's front door. By common consent, A.P. rang the bell. A woman of middle years, casually dressed, with sandy hair and big clunky earrings, answered and looked at them for a moment. A.P. guessed this to be Amanda Lane, Art-Smart Scarlet's mom. "Oh, hello," she said. "Can I help you?" "Maybe," he replied. "We were looking for Jane and Daria." "Daria...hmm...I'm pretty sure I have no relatives by that name." "She's a friend of your youngest daughter. Brown hair, glasses, green jacket." "Oh, yes. She and Jane and that other girl left the house... um...sometime today. I think. You may want to ask Trent." "Oh. Is he in?" "No. But he's around. Just knock on the van." The door shut. Mack and Ted looked very confused. A.P. shrugged and looked around, presently spying Little Drummer Boy's van in the driveway. "You dealt with that really well, A.P." He shrugged off Mack's compliment. "Compared to my mother, that made sense." Mack and Ted shared another Look as A.P. stepped up to the Tank and hammered on the door. "*Hello, Sir Naps-a-Lot! Awakey- wakey! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!*" The van door slid open and Trent looked at him scathingly. "What do you want, punk?" "We're looking for Erudite Emerald, the Overachiever and..." He started to say Narcissa, but with a sidelong look at Ted, he caught himself. "...um...Kawaii respectively." "Kawaii?" "Japanese. Loosely translated to `cute.' Pet name for Daria's sister." "Oh yeah. Daria's sister. She was here looking for Daria. She's probably at Lynn's." "They're at Purple Peril's?" He grinned. "Hey, I say we barge in there and find out what's going on with the girls!" "I don't think that's such a good idea. Lynn would kill." "Nah. Not me. Not *literally.* I don't think. And it's worth it to find out what's going on. Come on! It might be fun!" Trent looked dubious. Mack and Ted shrugged. A.P. grinned and got into the Tank. Mack and Ted shrugged and followed him. Trent grumbled as he got behind the wheel. * * * Quinn reached into her bag and pulled out a makeup case. She looked beseechingly at the other girls. It was funny, but "If looks could kill" had always been just a phrase to Quinn. Then she saw the deadly glare that Andrea girl was giving her and immediately put the case away out of self-preservation. * * * The Tank pulled up in front of Chez Cullen. A.P. bounded out of the back and headed for the ivy trellis leading to Lynn's window. He'd got to the top and was just about to put his hands down when he saw the nails that the Peril had glued, pointy side up, to the windowsill. He looked at them, considered, then climbs back down again, all the while thinking, _you haven't beaten me yet!_ * * * A stack of videos lay on the living room coffee table. The girls all looked fairly fed up as they sifted through the films, having been looking for quite some time. Then Jane held up _The Breakfast Club_ with one of her trademark evil smirks. The other five looked at each other, then looked at the video box, and all gave little smiles, as who should say, _Yeah, that's appropriate._ * * * A.P. shoo'd Ted towards the kitchen window. Bubble Boy clambered onto the windowsill...then slipped on the anti-climb paint Lynn had evidently redone the sills with and fell into the bushes underneath the window. There was a sound of snapping mousetraps, followed by a DeWitt-Clinton whimpering. * * * "But this isn't how these things are *done!*" A.P. insisted as the four of them headed for the front door. "And anyway, if she's taken this many measures to cut off access, she's *not* going to just open the door!" "I'm not having her open the door, you moron," Trent helpfully explained. "If we listen, we might learn something." With that, he took the welcome mat from the front stoop and threw it into the bushes outside the front window. There were snaps as more mousetraps got sprung, and Trent smirked and concealed himself in the bushes. A.P. was pissed off that he hadn't thought of that, but he followed Trent into the bushes with an inner _Guess our minds must be *too* highly trained, Majikthise_. Mack and Ted looked at each other. "Is this normal behavior for those two?" Ted wondered. Mack shrugged, and they both joined their colleagues in hiding. * * * There was a bottle of peach schnapps sitting on the coffee table, and each of the girls had a full shot glass in front of her. The ongoing drinking game had them all in that giggly stage. It was Jodie's turn. "Okay. Um...I never...I never did anything mean to a sibling." Daria, Jane and Quinn all drank. Lynn refilled their glasses. "What did you do?" Andrea wondered. "Too many things to even count," Jane replied dismissively. "Hey, I've got four siblings!" "It's a sibling rivalry thing," Daria noted from experience. "You never did *anything* mean to Evan or Rachel?" "Not a thing," Jodie confessed, sounding vaguely disappointed. "Well, it's not too late," Lynn assured her. Andrea raised an eyebrow. "*I* never got anyone arrested." This time, Daria, Jane and Lynn drank. Black Magic Woman nodded. _I thought so._ Quinn stared at them. "You got someone *arrested?*" Then she remembered why they'd had a new principal in January. "You got *Ms. Li* arrested?" Daria couldn't resist replying, with a smirk, "God, Quinn, what do you think people *do* on dates?" That gave Jane an idea. In an offhand tone, she said, "I never went all the way with a guy." The moment she started saying it, she suddenly remembered why it was a bad idea, but the "oops" expression didn't make its way to her face until she was done. There was dead silence at the table for a moment. Then Lynn and, to Jane's mild surprise, Andrea picked up their glasses and drank. Daria, Jodie and Quinn stared. "Oh, my *God*," Quinn half-gasped, "you mean unpopular people put *out*?" Jodie was curious. "Lynn, who with? No offense." Lynn seemed ashamed. "Um...well...it was kind of at that New Year party..." She trailed off. Daria turned to her, wide-eyed. Lynn glared at Jane, who had the grace to look guilty. "You slept with Trent," Daria confirmed. It wasn't exactly an accusation, but it could have been. "I wouldn't put it quite like that..." "Well...um..." Daria decided she wasn't going into this. "Whose turn is it?" Out in the bushes, A.P., Mack and Ted were all looking at Trent. A.P. opened his mouth to speak, eyes wide. "There are better places for this conversation," Mack whispered. They nodded and quietly slid out of the bushes, A.P. last. Just for a second, when everyone's back was turned, he looked first at Trent -- mad enough to kill -- and then into the window -- with sadness in his eyes. * * * Later, inside the Tank, the guys had been passing the tequila bottle around for a while, and by now, they were totally bombed. A.P. turned to Trent. "You. An' Purple Peril. Did it. When th'ell did *that* happ'n?" "Don' wanna talk 'bout it, man," Trent slurred. "Look, you...you...you...whatever th'ell ya are. Just...do right by her, 'kay? Else I'm gonna have t'alleast *try* to kick y'r butt 'n I think I'm not big enough f'r that." "Shut up, punk. If't makes ya feel better...I'm not gonna do her wrong, 'kay?" "Thass all I wanned ta hear. Hey, y'know what? I really think we oughta go in there. I need ta talk to that girl." "Which one?" Mack asked, probably the soberest of them at that moment. "Dussn matter. C'mon." * * * The girls peeked out through the living room curtains and watched as the guys staggered out of the back of the Tank. "Told you I heard something," Andrea reminded them almost smugly. "Probably the mousetraps," Lynn replied. "Do we want to let them in?" "*Hell* no!" Quinn replied immediately. "I'm not sharing tonight with a bunch of *guys!* Even if one of them *is* Ted!" Daria half-nodded. "I'm not really in the mood to talk to A.P. anyway." Lynn got an almost Jane-like evil smirk on her face. "Remember the *last* time you weren't in the mood to talk to him?" Daria, Jane and Lynn *shared* an evil smirk at that one. Jodie and Quinn looked a little nervous, and Andrea just raised an eyebrow. * * * A.P. had raised his fist and was ready to pound on the front door. "Maybe we oughta ring the bell..." Ted suggested just before he was hit from above with a water balloon. "*Hi,* Ted!" Quinn called down. "Sorry, but we're having a girl's night and *you're no girl!*" Another water balloon whacked A.P. "*And brush your hair, you geek!*" She giggled. "This is so much fun!" "Drop the hydros, you flighty-fluff!" A.P. snapped. "I wanna talk to the others!" "That's my *girlfriend* you're talking about!" Ted exploded. "_En garde_!" With that, he tackled A.P. to the ground. Trent and Mack looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Then a few paintballs got fired from above, whacking them both Trent and Mack and turning them a strange shade of burnt sienna. "*Ow!*" Mack outgrabe. "Those paintball things *hurt!*" The barrage continued. Trent and Mack ran for the relative safety of the Tank, stopping to collect Ted and A.P. (respectively) on the way. The sound of vaguely drunken female giggling drifted across the lawn through the still evening air. * * * The next morning, a bird was singing in a tree in the yard. After a few tweets, it got smacked by a paintball and fell out of the tree with a squawk. "Gotcha, ya little bastard," Lynn observed with a certain satisfaction. After a decent interval, the girls, all in nightwear and all (well, except Andrea) looking a bit rough around the edges, came out of the house with cups and a couple of large thermoses. Lynn hammered on the outside of the Tank, and after a moment, a door opened. Ted leaned out, looking *very* pale and wretched after what must (knowing Grant Clinton and Leslie DeWitt) have been his first encounter with alcohol. "We thought you could use this," Lynn informed him. "What is it?" he wondered. "Coffee," Jane explained. "Otherwise known as the elixir of life." Ted took the coffee, threw a brief smile at Quinn, then tried to slide the door shut, but was stopped by A.P., who clambered out over Mack to stand in front of Daria. "Sorry, Erudite Emerald. I was just worried." "It's okay," she replied, slightly colder than was perhaps warranted. "No harm done." He was left unconvinced -- maybe it was her tone. "No, I mean it. I just...I..." "This won't get mentioned again," she assured him. "We'll leave you to your recovery." She walked back towards the house, leaving him to look after her. At first he looked hurt, then he looked angry. And then Mack groaned, "Turn the lights *off!*" Lynn gave A.P. a sympathetic look. A.P. rolled his eyes, then shut the Tank door. "You know," Quinn reflected, "for a while there I was thinking that I might try to hang out with you guys, but now I think I might not want to after all. Unpopular's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't, like, want to *live* here." She strode away. Jane, Lynn, Jodie and Andrea watched her go for a moment, then in unison, they all breathed, "Thank God..." ADAPTOR'S NOTES We probably went overboard on the malapropisms, but there's just something about Quinn and maiming the language that comes naturally. Yes, I'm afraid it is Japanese, not Polynesian. Sorry, Jan. (Especially sorry this comes so hard on the heels of having finally told her the opening line of "Behind My Eyelids" is "As lashes close," not "As darkness grows" the way she'd had it. Memo to me: delete this little parenthesis from any future remastering of this adaptation. Matter of fact, delete this whole paragraph, since CB tells me she's correcting the language question at her earliest.) I presume the development of Andrea's having "done it" came out of the discussions on the old Outpost Daria Message Board (which I missed because I wasn't following the board at the time) regarding the sex lives of the Lawndalians. (Not directly, Jan tells me.) Obligatory legal blap: Daria Morgendorffer was created (as were the rest of the Lawndale characters) by Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis Lynn, and she and her neighbors are copyright 1993, 1997, 2000 MTV Networks, a Viacom company. (As Michelle Klein-Haess has pointed out, work-for-hire sucks the yolks from ostrich eggs.) Monty Python quotes and characters are copright 1970, 2000 Python (Monty) Pictures Ltd. They are here used, without the permission of their creators or owners, in the not-for-profit context of fan-fiction. The characters of Lynn Cullen and A.P. McIntyre are copyright 1999, 2000 Janet "Canadibrit" Neilson, as is this storyline, which was adapted by Austin Loomis (to whom the prose format version is copyright 2000) with permission. All other characters, locations and incidents (of which I don't think there are any, actually) are either imaginary or used fictitiously. Any coincidence of names is regretted, and any resemblance to persons living, dead, undead, or wandering the night in ghostly torment is either purely satirical or not my fault. As a "substantially transformative" derivative work, this story is protected by the Supreme Court's decision in re Campbell v. Acuff Rose Music. It may be freely redistributed as long as this copyright notice is maintained intact, but may not be in any way redistributed for profit without the permission of the legal owners of all concepts involved. The present author hereby gives permission for any and all keepers of Daria fanfic pages to archive this work (as if I could stop them). Any publication of this story for profit without the express written permission of Austin Loomis, Janet Neilson and MTV Networks (like any of that'll happen, especially the last) is strictly prohibited, and violators, if I ever decide to track them down, will be strung up by the thumbs, beaten about the head and shoulders with a free-range carrot, and then handed over to corporate lawyers who will do terrible things to them. On purpose. Austin, and good day.