“Mary Sue”

“An Angel Named Mary Sue”

Special guest appearance by Greystar.

Legal blah-de-blah: Daria and all whatever is owned by Mtv/Viacom and is being butchered by Noggin. I think I have three of those new gold dollar-coins in my car ashtray, which is all you’ll get should you be inclined to sue. If you think I’m making money off this, then up the dose. Moving on.

Author Notes: This was inspired by “Groped by an Angel” and is a combination and re-working of my entries in PPMB “Mary Sue” and “Paying For It” challenges. I placed Lawndale in Connecticut, for various reasons. This is set after IICY, it’s summer, Daria and Jane have graduated, and the FC is gone but they are still friends.

Extensive Thank-Yous: Everyone on PPMB for being so supportive especially in regards to my original “Mary Sue”: Roger E. Moore, Brother Grimace, Nemo Blank, TerraEsperZ, ranchoth, Decelaraptor and 9style. To Greystar and Mistress Thea for encouraging the combination and expansion of the two. Everyone who cast a vote: Martin Pollard, Steven Galloway, Greystar, Roger E. Moore, and RngrThorne. To Lawndale Stalker (Galen Hardesty) for letting me use his “Tales of Young Daria” stories* (Go read! They are excellent!!) RuthlessBunny for letting me quote part of her ch. 23 “Bed and Breakfast Man” series** (Read this too, very good!!). And Greystar for his contribution/guest appearance. And of course, especially to my beta readers, Greystar, Robert Nowall, Roger E. Moore, Ben Breeck, Mistress Thea, THM, and 9style.

Thanks for the feathers, guys.

Daria and Quinn sat in the living room, already bored though summer had just started. Daria was watching TV, Quinn was, surprisingly, reading.

Daria looked away from the TV and noticed the book title, “You’re not back on that guardian angel kick again are you?”

“They just came out with a new Angels Among Us book, it’s very interesting, you should read it.” Quinn said, not looking up.

“Right after I have my frontal lobes removed.” Daria deadpanned, turning back to the TV.

“Ha ha, Daria.”

Daria, really. I thought you two were getting closer. You don’t have much time left. After you leave, this will be far more difficult. I swore I was never going to do this…dammit.

Later that night, Daria was asleep in her bed when a voice called out.

“Daaaaahhhrrriiiaaaaaahhh…Daaahhriaaaah…” it was low and eerie.

Daria mumbled and rolled over, but did not wake up.

The voice became more insistent. “Daaahhriaaaah…”it increased in volume and irritation. “Daria. Daria! Wake up, dammit!”

Daria sat up startled. “Wha?” She put on her glasses and looked around for the source of whatever it was that had woken her up.

“Finally. Jeeze, I thought I was going to have to douse you with cold water or something.” A disembodied voice said from somewhere near the end of the bed.

“ Am I still dreaming? Who said that?” Daria was quickly weighing her options of escape and attack.

“ Huh? Oh, crap. Stupid, freakin’…hang on.”

Daria looked around confused. Suddenly a diffuse light appeared near her bed. It coalesced until it formed a human shape. The image gradually cleared to reveal a young woman in her mid-twenties. She had shoulder length gold-red hair, yellow-green eyes and was about Daria’s height. She was dressed somewhat like Quinn, flare jeans, and grey t-shirt, no shoes, but nicely pedicured toes.

“ Who the hell are you?” Daria asked trying to determine how much of a threat this unknown person was.

“ I’m your guaaaardian aaaangel…” the girl said in a spooky voice.

“My guardian angel?” She didn’t seem to want to hurt her, but why was there some strange girl in her bedroom in the middle of the night?

The stranger cleared her throat. ”Um, no, not really. I’m Angelinhel. You can just call me Angel for short.”

“Angel in hell?” Daria asked, thinking she was in the middle of some bizarre nightmare.

“Long story. Anywhoo, I overheard your conversation with Quinn and I decided to have a chat with you. You shouldn’t pick on her for her belief in guardian angels. There’s more out there than you know about.” She said.

“So you’re an angel, here to convince me about your existence and God? So far all I’m convinced of is not to eat Dad’s cooking before bed. Or ever.” Daria replied, firmly convinced it was a dream, yet feeling a strange sense of deja vu.

“Probably a good idea. I’m not here to convince you of anything. I just wanted to help you understand some things. I’m not really an angel, it’s just a metaphorical-name thing.” Angel sat on the end of the bed by Daria’s feet.

“Am I dead?’ Daria asked suddenly.

“What?!? No!” Angel looked surprised.

“Are you?” Daria peered at her.

“Not the last time I checked.”

“So it’s just the chili then.” Daria stated.

Angel smirked “I’d better start from the beginning. Let’s start off with the idea that most organized religions fell pretty wide of the mark when they decided on deities and the afterlife, and pretty much how the universe works in general. Follow so far?”

“So, there’s no God or afterlife or what have you. That’s what I told Quinn.” Daria was trying to figure out what her subconscious was trying to tell her with this dream.

“Not quite. People tend to put things into terms they can understand. God is a ‘person’ with human attributes, we retain our personalities when we die, that sort of thing. It doesn’t mean it’s true. Humans are funny that way, in order for things to make sense they have be ‘humanized’. The truth is harder to explain, because instinctively, you will want to anthropomorphize this, and I sort of have to, to explain it. And, as I am still only human, parts of it even I don’t get. But just try to go with it, ok?”

“Uh, sure.” This is the wierdest dream I’ve ever had.

“Think of the universe as an Ocean. It’s one thing, one entity. It has a sort of ‘consciousness’ and is, in a way, a ‘living being’ but not in human terms. Now, you can think of a single person or animal as a Wave in that Ocean, separate yet still a part of it.” Angel paused. “Still with me?”

Daria yawned “I guess so.”

“As these Waves we have experiences, life. We change and then return to the whole and bring what we’ve learned and experienced with us. Every Wave adds more to the completeness of the Ocean. It’s constantly changing. That’s the purpose of life, Daria. To help complete the whole, to help it change.”

“The meaning of life is just to change? Simply to have experiences?” Daria asked in disbelief, she smirked. “Or to make waves?”

“Cute pun. Meaning and purpose are two different things, but in a nutshell, yes.”

“Why? What’s the point of constant change?” Daria asked.

Angel shrugged “I never said I had all the answers. My guess is that at some point, the Ocean will become perfect and perhaps that’s when it will stop changing and simply exist or end. I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“Sounds like nothing matters.” Daria said raising an eyebrow.

Angel did the same. “Or everything does.”

“So you came from the great beyond to bestow this knowledge upon me. How is this supposed to help me? And why are you here again?” Daria was still somewhat asleep and getting confused.

“I’ll try to explain. Let’s suppose that as Waves with ‘personalities’ some can be put into certain groups. These groups motivate change in different ways. For example, your mother and Quinn are the same group, as are Stacy and Trent. Some belong to more than one group, but those are more rare, and are generally the troublemakers of the ocean. Lawndale has a number of Grouped people, which is why there’s so much going on here.” Angel said.

“What groups are there?” Daria asked while thinking: I am never eating Dad’s chili again.

Angel looked mildly surprised “You’re taking this awfully well.”

“I’m assuming this is all a hot-sauce induced hallucination, so I may as well go with it.”

“Okay, then. Whatever floats your boat.”

“Right now, about two gallons of Tabasco.’

Angel continued, an amused expression on her face. “So there are Groups, more than I know about, but for example, Helen and Quinn are Solvers. They find solutions to problems and do something to implement those solutions, which in turn, motivate change or cause it directly. Trent and Stacy are Empathetics. That’s one of the toughest and most frustrating to be. They feel the pain of the whole world, but they also feel the joy of the whole world. They’re usually sensitive and creative, a way to use what they feel to motivate change.”

“So that’s why Mom and Quinn get along better.”

“Well kinda, Solvers understand the way each other think. That’s why they usually get along. Solvers are also very...” she paused searching for the right word.

“Obsessive?” Daria volunteered.

“Single-minded. No.” Angel paused. “Focused, that’s what I wanted. Focused. They’re usually very good at one or a few things and concentrate on that. Your mom chose law.”

“And Quinn chose popularity.”

“Well, for now. I think she has a lot of potential. “

“For a career as a mannequin. She’s got all the qualifications, looks and an empty head. What about Jane?” Daria asked.

Angel frowned at Daria’s dig at her sister. “Jane might be a Creative. Lots of those, well, easier to spot at least.” At Daria’s curious look she elaborated. “True Creatives are quite brilliant at whatever their talent is. Michaelangelo, Mozart, Shakespeare, Jack Nicholson, they’re usually famous. I’m not perfect at recognizing Groups. Some people aren’t Grouped. They are simply individual Waves. Like Tom or Jake, Sandi. And, of course, everyone has their own personality and quirks. Groups just mean that those people tend to act in a certain way, it’s no guarantee of behavior. Sometimes your natural personality will cause you to act against what your Group would normally cause you to do. Humans are notoriously unpredictable.”

“So where do I fit in your Groups?”

“Like I said, I’m not perfect at recognizing Groups, I just go with what I see. Besides, some are that way right from the start, they’re called Natural whatevers and some have experiences that push them into a Group, they’re Created whatevers. There can be vast differences between Created and Naturals in a Group. I think you’re a Natural Observer, a Detailer. They have a huge impact on the Ocean. They add the tiny details others miss, the ones that bring everything into sharp focus. Very important, but also a frustrating Group.”

“Why?” Daria was curious, she had to admit, she did feel frustrated a good deal of the time.

“Because you can see what other people don’t, you get frustrated because they don’t react like you would, or you think they should, or just can’t see the world the way you do. A Solver and a Detailer, no wonder you and Quinn don’t get along. I’m surprised you haven’t killed each other yet.” Angel said with a small laugh.

“I just need to work out my alibi. What do our ‘groups’ have to do with it?” Daria asked.

“Think about it, your opposite personalities notwithstanding, someone who sees solutions clearly and someone who sees details the other missed? You’re bound to conflict on the right thing to do.” Angel replied.

“I’ll keep all this in mind during the trial. If they don’t accept it as reasonable cause, it’ll definitely support the insanity plea. So why are you here? Wait, what are you?”

Angel smirked. “The worst kind, an Empathetic Solver, the ‘Guardian Angels’ of the Ocean. Also known as the ‘Meddlers’ of the Ocean. “

“What does that mean? And how is this supposed to help me?” Daria was tired and getting cranky.

Angel sensed her mood and continued. “Not only do I feel everyone’s pain; I have an incessant need to fix it. Actually, I’m a Natural Solver, but a Created Empathetic. I can see where things are going wrong, and I’m compelled by compassion to resolve it. Though personally, I’m really not that fond of people in general and my empathy usually runs to animals, but human suffering still gets to me in some cases. That’s why I’m here to help. I want you to understand that in the grand scheme of things, we are both very important and very insignificant. There are a lot of Waves out there, all doing their part. One of many is insignificant, but every one is important, too. Small changes add up and cause bigger changes.”

“Chaos theory.”

“Something like that. You need to know that no matter what happens in life, you matter. And the Ocean ‘cares’ in it’s own way. It allowed me an opportunity to come here and help you. I don’t expect you to burst forth with optimism, but regardless of how you interpret this and react to it, you’ve already changed, and so have I.”

“Hmmm. Well it’s interesting, at least. Don’t you think a philosophical discussion would go over better when the other person is fully awake?” Daria rubbed her eyes behind her glasses.

“Everyone loves a cliché. And I thought the revelation of the “Meaning of Life” would make you more receptive to the real reason I’m here.”

“Which is?” Daria prompted.

Angel shrugged. “To help.”

Daria opened her mouth to say something, but Angel waved her off.

“You know, we have a lot in common, Daria. I can see myself in you, we’ve had a number of similar experiences…” She started to say something else but stopped. “Actually, I can see a bit of myself in a lot of people in Lawndale. But then again, that’s what Empathetics do.”

Daria considered for a moment, she had a feeling Angel was being purposefully evasive about why she was there. “So, am I sworn to secrecy about the meaning of life? Will I even remember this later on? Can I tell Quinn Guardian Angels are actually Waves without wings?”

“You’ll remember and can tell whomever you like. Talk to Trent about it. I think he’ll be interested in the theory. Though I’m not really an angel, I do have wings.”

“Really?”

“They’re not very pretty. That’s why I don’t usually show them.” Angel looked unsure about where the conversation was headed.

“Can I see them anyway?” Daria asked.

Angel sighed, she had debated showing them from the start because it would help Daria understand. Was she being too subtle? She hadn’t intended to reveal so much about herself. Ah, what the hell. The same diffuse light appeared behind her and slowly a pair of white feather wings came into focus. Daria gasped. The wings were ragged, chunks of feathers were missing, violently torn out, neighboring feathers stained with old blood. One wing looked as if it had broken and healed crookedly. Various scars crisscrossed both. There were some recent wounds that had started to heal, and here and there, a clean, new feather.

“What happened?” Daria was shocked.

Angel looked sad. “Life, Daria. Life and change.’

“Do they still…” Daria trailed off.

“Work?” Angel finished her question. “Of course. Yours still do, don’t they? Of course they don’t look quite like mine.”

“I have wings?” Daria asked in surprise.

“Sure. Everyone does, it’s a metaphorical thing. Here, take a look.”

A mirror appeared in front of Daria and she hesitantly peered into it. She saw her own white wings behind her. They were far from perfect, but not nearly the disaster Angel’s were. Several sections of feathers were missing, but they seemed to be carefully plucked rather than torn out. A scar ran along the top of one wing, others were visible. She noticed a similar, but much longer scar on the top of Angel’s wing.

Angel noted her comparison and answered her unvoiced question. “I had a Trent, too. Only, I was probably about 6 when we met. Brother’s best friend. Haven’t really seen him since he left for college about, oh, 8 years ago. Broke my heart. Some people try to stop using their wings when they hurt, others keep trying no matter how much they’ve been hurt, and occasionally, people cut their wings off completely. I just couldn’t cut mine off, not while they still worked. But I am hesitant to use them. So are you.”

The mirror disappeared. Angel stood up. “Well I hope that this has helped at least a little bit. While there is no real force that controls our lives, per se, someone will always care, Daria. There is hope. Don’t give up on the world just yet, it’s always changing.”

“So the whole point of this was to get me to accept and understand the inevitability of change.”

“Yeah, pretty much. Oh, and to get you to take it easier on yourself and everyone else.”

“What?” Daria wasn’t expecting that last bit.

Angel looked her in the eye. “Other people don’t pull out feathers, Daria, they only make scars. I’ll leave you with one thing, but don’t worry, it only lasts a day. We’ll see each other again.”

Angel disappeared, leaving a bewildered Daria.

The next day Helen and Quinn sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. Quinn was reading her “Angels” book. Daria walked in and headed to the cupboard for a Sugar-Tart.

“Is that a new book, Quinn?” Helen asked in the few seconds she had between phone calls.

Daria turned around. “I hate to spoil it, but in the end, he eats the green eggs and the ham.”

Daria stopped and stared. She could see Quinn’s wings. Most of the feathers were missing, splatters of blood stained the naked wings. A long, thick scar ran almost the entire length of one, and other scars trailed all over. She watched in horror as Quinn reached towards the few remaining feathers and yanked one out, blood trickled down. The scar lengthened by an inch and bled. Daria looked down at her Sugar-Tart. It was a bloody knife in her hand.

“Ha ha, Daria.” Quinn said not looking up.

Daria dropped the Sugar-Tart. “Oh my God.”

Quinn, hearing her tone, looked up and saw her sister’s expression. “Daria are you ok?” she asked with concern.

Daria ran out of the room and out the front door.

Helen looked from Quinn to the front door. “What was that all about?”

Daria came to a halt at the Lane’s front door and leaned on it, breathing hard. She had run the whole way, trying to escape the image of her sister’s wings. I was hallucinating. Carry-over from the dream. That wasn’t real. THAT WASN’T REAL! Quinn’s wings would be perfect. Everyone loves her, she gets everything she wants, she has everything. And there’s no way it’s my fault. She hurts ME. She called me her cousin for years! She doesn’t care what I think, she’s made that very plain. There’s no way I could hurt her, she doesn’t care about me. It’s not my fault! It WASN’T REAL!

Much to her surprise Daria was fighting back tears. She tried to pull herself together before ringing the doorbell. Oh God, what if I can see Jane’s wings? No. It was just a dream. She rang it and the door opened almost instantly.

“Hey Daria.” Trent stood in the doorway.

“How’d you get here so fast?’ Daria asked, shocked.

Trent looked confused. “I live here.”

Daria shook her head. “No, I meant…never mind. Is Jane here? I really need to talk to her.”

“Yeah, she’s in her room. Are you ok?” Trent asked, concerned.

“I just need to talk to Jane.” Daria brushed past him and hurried up the stairs.

Trent watched her go, slightly worried. He wandered into the kitchen, his original destination.

Halfway up the stairs Daria realized she didn’t see wings on Trent. She tried to remember if she’d seen any on her mom, but couldn’t. She’d seen Quinn first then high-tailed it out of there. She took a deep breath and knocked on Jane’s door.

“Yo.” Came Jane’s voice from the other side.

Daria walked in, afraid of what she might see. She glanced over at Jane.

No wings.

Thank God.

She let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Hey amig…Whoa, are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Jane’s eyes widened.

“No, just an angel with torn up wings who gave me the power to see my sister’s wings as she plucked them clean because I made some sarcastic remark and apparently I’ve been slowly killing her soul for years.” Daria said in a rush.

Jane stared.

“I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Jane put down her paintbrush “Oh yeah. Now, what was that again?”

“Remember I told you I had a dream you could get a painting out of?” Daria recounted her “dream” to Jane ending with her “hallucination” in the Morgendorffer kitchen.

“Wow. So that’s the meaning of life, huh? And you can’t see any wings on me? Too bad, I wonder what they look like. Hey! Maybe that Angel chick is Quinn from the future, come back to warn you or save herself or something.” Jane exclaimed.

“You believe me?”

Jane shrugged. “Believe, humor, distract till I can call the nice men with the white coats, it’s all good.”

Daria threw her a dirty look. “Thanks. No, she wasn’t Quinn. She kinda dressed like her, but if I had to choose, I’d have to say she looked more like me, or even Brittany. And Quinn would never leave the house without the right shoes.”

“Shoes?”

“I don’t know why I remember that. She wasn’t wearing shoes.” Daria flopped back on the bed.

“Maybe she was the future you, come back to change the past. No, you’d never give up the boots.” Jane mused.

“I think she was who she said she was. She said we’d probably meet again. Am I crazy, Jane?” Daria stared at a paint spot on the ceiling.

“Yes.” Jane answered without a thought. “But that was long before this happened. Actually, I think maybe it was just a realistic dream or a subconscious manifestation of feelings of guilt. Or maybe, just maybe, it was real and you should just go with it.”

“A subconscious manifestation of feelings of guilt?” she repeated incredulously.

Jane looked embarrassed. “Okay, so I watched a few of those holistic marriage shows Wind was always watching. Don’t worry, I’m not going to let anyone ship you off to the funny farm. And you were right. I am inspired to paint.” She glanced at Daria. “Maybe you should write this out.”

“Right now I think I just want to watch you paint.”

Jane raised an eyebrow but begins a new canvas as Daria watched. After several hours, Jane had most of the painting done. They both stood back and looked at it. Daria was sitting up in bed, sheets covering her to her waist, wearing a t-shirt. Angel was sitting on the edge of the bed in jeans and grey t-shirt, ruined wings and all, a faint glow surrounding her. Daria’s expression was one of guarded fascination; Angel’s was a benign smile.

“Well?” Jane gestured to the canvas.

Daria sat up and considered it “It’s almost perfect.”

“Almost?” Jane said, faux insulted.

Daria frowned “Something’s wrong, I just don’t know what. Everything looks like it did, but there’s something...”

“Like what?”

Daria flopped back. “I don’t know. Forget it.”

Jane cleaned off her brush and set it down, then turned and looked at Daria. “Are you all right? Really? You’ve been quiet this whole time.”

“And how is that different?”

“This isn’t normal-Daria-quiet, it’s more eating-at-your-soul quiet.”

Daria sat up again. “Do you think Quinn’s personality flaws are my fault?”

“Daria…”

“Do you?” Daria insisted.

Jane sighed. “I don’t think that’s necessarily what you saw, or what she said, means. Considering I don’t know what it was like for you two growing up, aside from what you’ve told me, I couldn’t say. But if I had to be honest…”

Daria stood up and glared at Jane. “You do, don’t you? You think that my horrible personality has turned my sister in to a brainless fashion twit. I never loved her and so she’s turned into Miss Popularity to find the love she doesn’t get at home. Just like everyone always says, Quinn is perfect and all her problems and mine are my fault and I have to be the one to change and fix them! Thanks a lot, Jane.”

Daria stormed out. Jane called after her as she stomped down the stairs. Trent stood by the front door.

Jane ran down the stairs. “Daria! Wait! I didn’t finish, that’s not what I meant!”

“Daria are…” he didn’t finish as Daria pushed him out of the way.

“Shut up, Trent!”

She stormed out the door. Jane stared from the bottom step.

“What the hell was that?” Trent had never seen Daria that angry.

Daria angrily stalked back home, muttering to herself. She made it inside and to her room without seeing her sister or mother. Throwing herself on her bed she ranted to the ceiling, grateful for the padded walls that absorbed sound so well. “HELP ME? HELP? You did this to HELP me? Just like everyone else, why can’t you be nicer, Daria? Why can’t you play with the other kids Daria? Quinn has friends, Daria. Why won’t you read to Quinn? Why won’t you spend time with Quinn? Why won’t you fucking BE Quinn? Because I’m NOT Quinn! I’m me! Why can’t I just be me? Why is everything my fault? Why can’t I just act like myself and not have every problem in the world be my fault because of it? WHY? WHY ME? Why does it have to be so fucking hard to be me?”

Then Daria did something she swore she would never do, she broke down and cried.

Aw, hell. That didn’t go like I expected. I can’t believe I made Daria cry.

Quinn stood just outside the door. She was just about to ask Daria to go back to Jane’s, or anywhere else, because the Fashion Club, no, that was gone, her friends were coming over. She only caught the end, “Why me? Why does it have to be so fucking hard to be me?” Quinn was surprised, she asked herself that same question every day. Maybe not quite in that kind of language, which surprised her coming from Daria…

Daria thought it was hard to be her? She was so smart. And everyone left her alone, she could do whatever she wanted. She didn’t have to live up to anyone’s expectations, well, except her own. Quinn didn’t understand why she was so unhappy. She wasn’t popular popular, but Quinn would trade a thousand Fashion Clubs for a friend like Jane. And as much as she hated to admit it, and despite what Sandi said, Daria was popular. Everyone knew who she was, and despite her prickly attitude, most everyone liked her. Quinn suddenly felt guilty for calling her her ‘cousin’ for so long and for treating her so badly in front of her friends. But she was trying to be a better sister. She had finally admitted that they were sisters, right? And she had made some attempts at sisterly bonding. Sort of. And it was working better than when they were little, right?

But that’s why it’s so hard to be me. I can’t even be myself. Hell, I don’t even know who I am. All my friends would desert me if I gave up fashion and boys and all that crap we do. Daria never seemed to want to be her friend, so she had done what she had to, to find them elsewhere. Acceptance had come at a price, and Quinn paid it gladly. Quinn needed other people. People who listened to her, people just to be with. Quinn hated being alone. Daria just didn’t understand that. Quinn listened. Daria had stopped yelling. She probably won’t come out anyway. Quinn went downstairs to wait for her friends, she didn’t hear Daria’s muffled sobs.

The Former Fashion Club arrived and they sat waiting for the no-salt, no-fat, air-popped popcorn to pop while they watched Fashion Vision.

“So now that we have all this, like, free time, what should we do?” Sandi said in her valley-girl drawl.

Stacy perked up. “We could get summer jobs.”

“Staaa-cy, jobs?” Sandi said disapprovingly.

Stacy cringed slightly. “Quinn had a job.”

Sandi waved her off “She was forced into that. It’s not like she wanted to work.”

Quinn started to reply but stopped herself. She had decided that Stacy needed to learn to defend herself. She did ok at the graduation barbecue. Very well, actually. She’d dismantled the Fashion Club.

Stacy tried again. “Maybe we could volunteer somewhere fun? Help animals or kids or something?”

Quinn was surprised and pleased. “Stacy that’s such a good idea. And it would look good on our college applications.”

“Yeah, volunteeeeeer. Like the friendship workshop.” Tiffany added.

Sandi looked at them all with distain. “You really want to waste your summer with bratty kids and smelly animals? And when would you find the time to keep up with current fashion trends?”

Stacy looked disappointed. Quinn sighed. Doesn’t she ever let up? She turned to Sandi.

“I thought it was a good idea. We need to start thinking about how we’re going to get into a good college anyway.” She turned back to Stacy. “What were you thinking of doing?”

Sandi stared openmouthed. Now that there was no Fashion Club, she had no leverage against Quinn. Her control was gone. She grasped at it.

Sandi cut Stacy off in the middle of a sentence. “Perhaps then we should vote on what kind of volunteer work to do so we can do it together.”

Quinn looked over to Stacy who had an annoyed expression on her face. “Uh, Sandi, there’s no Fashion Club anymore, we don’t have to vote. But we can discuss our options and decide on something we all like. You’re right, we should do it together.”

Quinn smiled at her, she tried to let Sandi keep her pride, to soften the blow. Sandi’s mom had really screwed her up with all her “Friends are enemies who just aren’t trying to screw you at the moment” crap. Quinn thought the disbanding of the FC was the best thing that would ever happen to her. She was certainly sick of the power struggles and the barely veiled threats and insults. Sandi, there’s no more power struggle. We can just be friends. Let. It. Go.

Sandi tried to glare, angry her leadership had been taken away, angry she had no control over the others anymore. Then she realized Quinn was trying to be nice. Why am I such a bitch all the time? Sandi suddenly understood. Though her worst nightmare had come true, there was no more Fashion Club, and therefore nothing to make Stacy Tiffany and Quinn hang out with her, what had made the thought a nightmare had not. They all, even Quinn, were still there. Not as subordinates in her club, terrified of being unpopular should they displease Sandi and get kicked out, but as friends. I have friends. You were wrong, Mom.

“All right, then.” Quinn saw Sandi’s first real smile.

They fell to discussing their options, and fashion. After all, old habits die hard.

Meanwhile, upstairs Daria lay on her bed, feeling sick and exhausted. She had cried herself out and felt empty and completely alone. There’s no one to help me. Everything I’ve ever done I’ve had to do alone. I can’t stand it anymore. Quinn’s so lucky, everyone leaps up to help her. She even has a fucking guardian angel. There’s no one to help me.

“That’s not true.” Angel said.

Daria sat up, surprised. “You! Get out of my room!”

“Daria…”

“Why don’t you go downstairs and sit with the Fashion Nazis and help them? You could do each other’s nails!” she said angrily.

“Daria, stop it.” Angel warned.

“I thought you said you were going to help me.” Daria spat at her.

Angel raised her eyebrows. “I said I was here to help, I didn’t specify only you.”

“Of course not!” Daria’s voice was rising. “I don’t need help. I’ve never had help before. I’m a brain, I can do everything myself. But poor little Quinn needs attention. Poor little Quinn needs help. Let’s all forget Daria and help poor little Quinn.”

Angel was becoming increasingly angry as Daria yelled at her. “Daria, would you stop being a self-centered little bitch for ten seconds and listen to someone besides yourself!”

Daria stared at her. Angel’s eyes were blazing, for a second Daria was afraid, Angel looked really pissed off.

“Now you just listen to me. You have the most selfish family I’ve ever seen. Your mom is obsessed with work, your dad uses his lousy childhood for every excuse, and yes, your sister can be mean and egocentric and your parents have given her more attention, but you-you expect everyone to just bow down to you because everything has just been so hard for you. Poor Daria, always left behind, always ignored, no one loves me wah wah wah. Everyone feels like that Daria. Everyone. You want people to see how hurt and lost and sad you are but you refuse to put yourself in their shoes. When you can understand other people’s pain, they will be sympathetic to you. Even when people try to reach out to you, you shut them down, because their efforts just aren’t good enough for you. You expect everyone to be perfect and fit your expectations, but you refuse to fit theirs.”

“You have no idea what it’s like! To be left out, to have no one to turn to. To be expected to be able to deal with everything.” Daria was aware she sounded like a petulant child, but didn’t care.

“Try me. I know exactly what that’s like. I bet for every argument, I have a counter. But I will concede Quinn, I didn’t have a sister, I had a brother who was more anti-social than you, if you can believe it. And to be fair to you, I will only use experiences up until high school. You’re not the only one in the world who dealt with growing up alone. So go for it.”

“What?”

“You were so keen to have a pity party, so go on, make your case.” Angel sat down and leaned back in Daria’s desk chair, crossing her feet on the desk.

Daria sat on the bed. “Fine. My dad is obsessed with his crappy childhood and rants about it with no provocation whatsoever. He’s never been there for me.”

“Died in a car accident two weeks before my sixth birthday. I suppose that means he was never there for me, either.” She said in an offhand manner.

“My mom’s so work obsessed, she’s hardly ever home. She’s too busy at the office to be any kind of help.” Daria said.

“Well, mine wasn’t work obsessed, she was too busy drinking for that.” Angel looked at her fingernails.

“My grandparents tried to bribe me to change my hair and dress like Quinn.”

“Well, three of mine died when I was between the ages of 7 and 12, but the one remaining grandmother picked on my weight from as far back as I can remember. Such choice phrases as, ‘Should you be eating that?’ or ‘She’s got thighs like her dad.’ Bear in mind my dad weighed almost 300 pounds when he died. I think I was a size 12 at the time.” She noted Daria’s probing look. “I’m a 6 now.”

Daria looked surprised. “That must’ve been some diet. You should let the Fashion Fiends in on it.”

Angel gave her a dark look. “I have a feeling they already know.”

“What…”

Angel cut her off. “Happened in college. Inadmissible.”

Daria paused, she did not seem to be winning, at the least, they were evenly matched. She threw out everything she could think of. “Kids made fun of my name. First and last.”

“Me, too.” At Daria’s quizzical look she continued. “Let’s just say that you’re not the only one with an easily made fun of German last name. Especially at the height of Star Trek: The Next Generation popularity. Angel’s not my real name, my initials are KK. And no my middle name does not start with a K.”

“They made fun of my glasses. I have horrible vision, I’m almost blind without them.”

“Me, too. Two feet away, you would be blurry. But I got contacts in eighth grade because I hated the teasing. Not that that worked.”

“Why not?” Daria was interested in any argument against contacts she could use against her mom.

“What I didn’t realize was the when I had glasses no one really noticed what color my eyes were. With contacts everyone noticed.”

Daria couldn’t see from the bed and tried to remember what color they were from the previous night. “So? They’re what, green? Hazel?”

Angel had a wry smile. “For whatever reason, they’re much greener now. No, in high school and junior high they were yellow. Not light brown, not hazel, yellow. Tiger eyes, my mom called them. They matched my hair. I had to get colored contacts. I went back to regular after a year or so.”

Daria looked at her yellow-gold hair.

“I bet your high school wasn’t as bad as Lawndale.”

“You’re right.” Angel admitted.

Before Daria can score the point, Angel continued.

“It was worse.”

“Nothing could be worse than Lawndale.” Daria stated.

“You had crappy teachers and stupid students, so does every other public high school.”

“I was shunned for being a brain. I was an outcast.” Daria said.

“You chose not to be mainstream. Every last popular person in my high school was smart, and most were in the National Honor Society. You could’ve been smart and popular, look at Jodie. Even if she wasn’t forced to do all that community crap, she would still be smart and popular. I got beat up for no good reason. Have you ever been stuffed in a locker, Daria? Sexually harassed every day for two years? Had your complaints ignored by the same teacher who taught the health class that covered “harassment and what to do about it”? I may have chosen not to be outgoing, but I had a far better reason than you.”

“There was Upchuck.”

“He’s harmless and you know it. And he genuinely liked you, he wasn’t really crass or rude, just overenthusiastic and a bit clueless. Admit it, you liked sparring with him. He was the only person, except maybe Jane, who could keep up with you. If it was harassment, you’d go home close to tears, hating yourself, and feeling dirty.” Angel said.

“Your principal wasn’t Ms. Li.”

Angel nodded. “Ah, very true. I may have to give you that one. We could’ve used a Li.”

Daria’s snorted in disbelief.

“In my high school a student stabbed a teacher with a pair of scissors. And posters were banned from the hallways because people kept setting them on fire.”

“Sounds like Highland.” Daria said.

“Hmm. That might be a wash. However, you only spent one year there and I spent all four. Is this pity party over yet?”

Daria laid down her trump card. “The Tom Thing.”

Angel mused for a moment. “I had a Tom.”

Daria looked at her in shock. “Really?”

“Oh, not like your Tom Thing. No betrayal or rift with a best friend. You win that point, definitely. But it was…” She trailed off.

“What happened?”

“Why did you break up with Tom?” she asked Daria.

Daria was confused at the sudden question. “Huh?”

“Why did you break up with Tom?” Angel repeated.

Daria paused, thinking. “Because…because, well, it’s just we…he and I weren’t…I didn’t…”

“Love him?” Angel finished for her. “It was everything you wanted but it still wasn’t enough. He was almost perfect, but you knew it wasn’t going to work and it was all your fault. I can only imagine how much worse it was for you, to go through almost losing Jane to find out it wasn’t going to work with Tom.”

“Yeah.” Daria said sadly.

“Yeah.”

“Did you stay friends?” Daria wondered if she and Tom would. Even though he said he wanted to, she had her doubts.

“Oh no, we never saw each other again.” She said.

Daria sat on the bed, feeling defeated. Angel walked over and sat next to her. “Daria, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You needed to see how what you say and do affects other people, and how you’ve contributed to how everyone, including your parents and Quinn, see you and therefore act towards you. I thought it would help you understand people better and why they hurt you, whether they meant to or not. I’m not laying blame at your feet, I was just trying to show you the whole picture, a different perspective. I honestly did not expect you to react like that.”

Daria smirked. “Humans are notoriously unpredictable.”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me all this?” Daria asked suddenly.

A wooden chair appeared in front of Daria. It was painted blue.

“What’s that?”

“A chair, but be careful, the paint’s wet.” Angel replied.

Daria reached out to touch the chair.

“Exactly.”

Daria pulled her hand back. “Nice metaphor.”

“I thought so.” Angel smiled.

“So what now?”

“Plan B.”

“Plan B?”

“Well, plan A didn’t go so well. So, let’s try plan B. But first go downstairs and get a drink.” Angel suggested.

“Why?”

“Aren’t you thirsty? I’m always thirsty after I cry. Be prepared though, you can still see wings.” She warned.

Daria headed downstairs realizing that, yes, she was pretty thirsty. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, she could hear Quinn and her fashion friends in the living room. Steeling herself for seeing Quinn again, she walked into the room. Quinn was facing away from her, Stacy next to her. Sandi and Tiffany we facing her, sitting on the floor. She saw Quinn’s plucked wings again and winced. Then she saw Sandi and Stacy also had wings. Stacy had handfuls of feathers torn out and numerous scars. I bet it’s all that getting picked on by Sandi. Sandi’s wings were a mess, almost as bad as Angel’s. Sandi was apparently pretty unhappy. From what she had gathered about her mother and the way Sandi tried to control everyone she met, Daria didn’t wonder why. Tiffany had no wings. How come I can only see some people’s wings? She hadn’t seen Jane’s or Trent’s either. She made a mental note to ask Angel when she got back upstairs.

Quinn looked up as Daria entered the living room. “Daria! We were talking about what kind of volunteer work to do. You worked at that old folk’s home, how was that?”

“Uh, maybe you should ask Jodie about volunteering. That’s really her area of expertise.” Daria was taken aback. The Former Fashion Club volunteering? Quinn addressing her in front of her friends? Acting civil? Had Angel talked to her too? Then again, if she thought about it, Quinn had been nicer since the teacher’s strike, and that fiasco with Erin’s divorce/the Aunt convention. Come to think of it, Quinn had been trying to be more sisterly for some time and Daria just kept brushing her off.

“That’s a good idea, do you have her number?” Quinn asked.

“I can go look it up.”

“Whenever.” Quinn responded airily.

Daria moved towards the kitchen.

“Anyone else want another soda?” Tiffany asked in a slow drawl.

Daria looked back at her and almost passed out. Tiffany’s wings weren’t invisible. They were hacked off. Daria could see bloody, healed-over stumps and bits of feather. She swayed.

“Quinn, what’s wrong with your cous- I mean sister? She doesn’t look so good, even for her.” Sandi wrinkled her nose.

Quinn got up quickly after seeing Daria’s even paler than usual face. “Daria! Are you all right? She looked like this this morning, too.”

Daria regained some composure and waved her off. ‘I’m fine, uh, just low blood sugar.’

‘Are you sure?’ Quinn looked concerned.

“Yeah, don’t mind me. I’m on my way to get some sugar-flavored caffeine.” Daria tried to sound convincing.

Quinn sat down still looking worried. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

Daria went into the kitchen, got a soda and gulped it down. She grabbed another and heard Tiffany enter. “Do you have any more diet?”

Daria didn’t look at her “Yeah, in the fridge.”

Daria made her escape back up the stairs, avoiding the curious glances from the living room. She rushed back into her room, still clutching the second can. She dropped it on the desk and stood there with a horrified look on her face. Angel was still sitting on the bed.

“Daria, what happened? They weren’t that bad were they? Well, I knew Sandi’s would be pretty bad, but Stacy’s weren’t too awful, considering.” Angel looked concerned.

“Tiffany. Tiffany hacked off her wings. They were just…I mean hacked, not just cut…stumps. They were stumps.” Daria gasped out.

“Oh, Daria, that must have been…shocking would be putting it mildly. It does explain a lot, though. I’m sorry. I thought they would be bare or just really scarred, I didn’t think she had cut them off.”

“What happened?” Daria sat next to Angel on the bed.

“You’d really have to ask Tiffany, or one of her friends, but you know she’s adopted, right?”

Daria calmed down a bit. “I figured, Blum-Deckler isn’t very Asian.”

“There’s probably more to it, but her adoptive mother died of cancer, I think. She didn’t take it very well. People who cut them off decide they don’t want to feel anymore. That’s why Tiffany seems so…vacant. She doesn’t want to let anything touch her emotionally, so she doesn’t really respond or pay attention to anything that might hurt her that way again. Including her friends.” Angel explained. “It can be hard to tell between people who refuse to respond emotionally but can, and those who really can’t anymore.”

“How come you didn’t know? Can’t you see?”

Angel shrugged. “If I wanted to, but it’s kind of private, like a diary of your emotions. As an Empathetic, I had an idea from what I knew about them and their personalities, but I had no reason to look, I knew enough.”

“Will they grow back?” Daria asked.

“Most likely, no.” Angel said sadly. ”I’m sure in rare cases it happens, but once they’re gone…Growing back feathers is hard enough.”

Daria eyed the handful of newer white feathers on Angel’s wings. “You seem to be doing ok.”

“Years, Daria. Those few feathers took me years to get back.” She mused for a moment. “If I had to count I would say about five. When you start to understand yourself, you can stop yourself from pulling them out. When you start to accept yourself, then you can start growing them back.”

Daria had a sudden thought. “Why didn’t I see any on Jane or Trent? They didn’t…”

“No!” Angel said quickly. “You didn’t see theirs because you didn’t need to. Well, maybe you should’ve seen Trent’s…no, you didn’t really need to. Seeing everyone you know would have been too much, you saw what you needed to see.”

“Why the Fashion Club?”

“Because to you, they were only mindless popularity robots. Now you’ve seen a bit of their human side. Do you think you understand them better? Or why they behave the way they do? It’s important for people to learn to understand each other. You don’t have to like everyone, but at least try to understand why they are the way they are and try to accept them that way.”

“I suppose. You know, Quinn was actually nice to me. In front of her friends.” Angel could hear the surprise in her voice.

“Quinn wants to be your friend Daria, she always has.” Angel said gently.

Daria had an expression of complete disbelief. “We’re talking about the same Quinn, right? My sister? The one who called me her “cousin” for years? Who ignored or ridiculed me in public?”

“You did that to her, too. Siblings do that, it doesn’t mean they can’t be friends. Well, you’ll see. On to plan B.” They stood up.

Daria looked at her with an expression of noticing something for the first time. “Huh.”

“What?”

“I thought you were taller.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Where are we going?” Daria wondered if Quinn would ask her who Angel was when they walked by the living room.

“On a little trip.”

“Should I lock my tray table in the full upright position?” Daria deadpanned.

Angel smiled. “I think the ‘cousin thing’ first.”

“What?”

Daria’s room faded and was replaced by the parking lot of Camp Grizzly. The Morgendorffer family had just arrived. Helen, Jake and Young Daria have gotten out of the car.

“Daria, you’ll never make any friends if you don’t get your nose out of that book.” Helen chided her.

“Let’s hope. Hey!” Young Daria exclaimed as her mother grabbed the book.

Helen turned to the car. “Come on Quinn, we’re here.”

Young Quinn peeked out the window. “I don’t wanna go to camp, I don’t wanna go to camp!” She spotted a group of girls her age. “That girl has my backpack!”

Young Quinn ran to the group of girls. “I have the same backpack.” She said excitedly.

“I could see how the untrained eye could make that mistake.” The girl with the backpack replied.

“Ummm, I like your hair.” Young Quinn tried again.

“Who’s that weird girl standing by your parents?” The girl asked.

“Yeah, she’s sooooo pale.” Her friend chimed in.

Sensing their disapproval Young Quinn answered. “Uh, that’s my…cousin, yeah, my distant cousin.”

Daria and Angel have been watching the scene.

“Can they see us?” Daria asked in a low voice.

Angel spoke normally. “No. This has already happened, it’s like watching a memory, you can’t change or influence it.”

“So what was the point of this? To see the beginning of our close, sisterly bond?” Daria asked in a normal voice.

“Well, that was a pretty mean thing she just did. But do you remember what happened in the car just before that?”

“Yeah, she was being a brat the whole way here. Whining about how she didn’t want to go to a loser camp and waste two weeks of summer away from her real friends.” Daria replied.

“Well, let’s take a look, this time with the commentary.”

Daria looked puzzled at this. The scene shifted to the car ride. Jake was driving, Helen in the passenger seat, Young Quinn was behind her, Young Daria behind Jake.

“I don’t wanna go to camp! Why do I have to go with Daria? I don’t need help making new friends, I have lots of friends at home!” Young Quinn whined. Don’t leave me Mom! I wanna go home! I’m scared!

Angel leaned towards Daria. “You’re hearing her thoughts.”

“Now, Quinn, this will be fun! You like making new friends.” Helen said.

But what if something bad happens while you’re gone? Who’ll take care of me? Young Quinn chewed her lip in worry then looked over at Young Daria, who was scowling at her book, trying to ignore Young Quinn’s complaining. Young Quinn brightened. Daria could help me. She’s smart, if something happens Daria will be there.

Helen continued. “And Daria will be there. She’ll watch out for you. Right, Daria?”

Young Daria scowled harder. “Not likely.” I waste enough time avoiding the other kids, I don’t need to waste more watching over Princess Brat.

Young Quinn’s face fell. Stupid, mean Daria. Fine. I don’t need you. I’ll make lots of friends and they’ll help me if I need it. I won’t even tell them you’re my sister. Maybe that’ll make you happy.

Daria turned to Angel. “How was I supposed to know what she was thinking? It’s not like I’m telepathic.”

Angel sighed. “Not her exact thoughts, no, but you should’ve known she’d be scared to be away from home for the first time. She wasn’t like you, that you knew. You were fine being away from home, by that alone you should’ve known she wouldn’t be. Like most people, you chose not to consider it, thought about things only in terms of how they affected you.”

“And I suppose her continuing to call me her cousin was to make me happy?” Daria grumbled.

“At the time, on some level, I think she did think that’s what you wanted, to be separated from your family. You never really tried to fit in. Later on she did it just to get back at you. You hurt her, she hurts you.” Angel reasoned.

“Why should I have to fit their expectations?” Daria demanded.

“Why did you expect them to fit yours?” Angel countered.

Daria started to answer but couldn’t. “That’s not fair.”

“It never is. Moving on.”

“Can’t wait.” Daria deadpanned.

The scene changed to the house in Highland, where Daria and Quinn had separate rooms. It was raining pretty hard. Daria and Angel were in the living room watching Young Daria and Young Quinn.

Daria smirked. “I remember this. I told Quinn’s fortune using the Old Maid cards.”*

“The first time you got her to pay you to help her. Well, let’s watch for a bit. This is just after you made up that ‘pennies from heaven’ game.”

Young Daria picked up two pennies off the coffee table, held them out to her sister and managed to taunt her sister before she burst out laughing again. “Here you go Quinn, you won fair and square!”

Young Quinn snatched the pennies and hurled them against the wall, but that only seemed to make Young Daria laugh harder. Snarling, she sat down before the TV and turned it on. A blast of white noise and a screen full of snow greeted her. “Damn cable! Every time it sprinkles in this stupid town, the cable goes out! Aarrgghhh!”

She began beating on the TV.

Young Daria giggled. “Quinn, Quinn! Look on the bright side! You’ll never fall for that one again, and now you can pull it on your little friends!”

Daria pointed to the scene. “See? I was nice there.”

Angel nodded in agreement. “Yup.”

“They’ve probably already heard of it.” Young Quinn pouted.

Young Daria smiled “I guarantee you they haven’t. I just made it up, just for you.”

Young Quinn stared at her. “You made all that up, just now?” Young Daria nodded. Why me? She can make up stuff like that on the fly, she’s a total geekburger, she’s bigger than me, and she has to be my sister! “I still don’t have anything to do now!”

“This is a perfect day to read. I’ll even help you pick out a book.” Young Daria suggested. Maybe now she’ll read something instead of the useless crap she usually does. And maybe we’d finally have something in common…

Young Quinn looked appalled. “I’m not a bookworm geek!” I wish I hadn’t said that. Daria’s trying to be nice... sort of. Well, I’m not going to take it back now, that trick was still mean.

“You were so close!” Angel said in an exasperated voice. “Well, you know how this ended up, fortune telling and all, but let’s take a quick peek.”

The scene skipped ahead.

Young Daria looked at the Old Maid cards in front of her. “Two weeks. Two weeks from today I can give you another reading. In the meantime, follow the advice you have and try to make your future better. Work on your creativity and look for ways to make other people happier.” Young Quinn stomped her feet. “Uuuhh! How can I do that when I can’t even get to any other people? The world hates me!”

Young Daria suppressed three killer sarcastic retorts that sprang immediately to her mind.

Angel pointed. “Right there. You could’ve said something nasty but you didn’t. Why?”

“I wanted her to be quiet and leave me alone.” Daria answered.

“Really?”

Daria scowled. “I felt bad, okay? I decided to help her.”

“That’s how the whole fortune telling game turned out, isn’t it? You were going to make her all worried about her future and instead ended up wanting to help her? Nice predictions, by the way.”

“Yeah.” Young Daria rolled her eyes at Quinn’s overreacting. “You can do both those things right here, Quinn. You can design some dresses for your paper dolls or paint a picture. And all you have to do to make me happier is be quiet enough so I can sit here and read my book. I assure you I really do qualify as ‘other people’. No extra charge for the interpretation.”

Young Quinn considered. Is she doing that I’m insulting-you-but-you-can’t-tell-thing? Hmmm, I don’t think so. Maybe I will then.

Young Daria watched Young Quinn flounce into her room. Wow. I can get Quinn to pay for my help. Is that too mean? I’d better make sure that Quinn knows that fortune telling is a scam. But not today. Young Daria curled up in the smaller of their two armchairs and adjusted the reading lamp. Opening ‘The Song of Hiawatha’ to the bookmark, she found her place and began to read. As the soft sound of rain on the roof became audible once more in the returning silence, a small smile crept onto her face.

“See, I wasn’t horrible in that one.”

Angel suppressed a groan. “I told you I’m not trying to blame you for Quinn’s personality or for how your family relationships developed. I’m just showing you how it all looks from the outside. Can’t you see that you could get along if you both tried? Why are you smiling in that chair?”

“Because I just scammed Quinn out of two bucks.” She said simply.

Angel shook her head. “Nope.”

“Because it was…fun.” Daria mumbled.

Angel cupped her hand to her ear. “What was that? Didn’t hear you.”

Daria glowered. “Fun, okay? It was fun to play with Quinn.”

Angel smiled. “Next stop.”

“Whoopee.”

They were still in the old house in Highland, this time watching Young Quinn playing with paper dolls in her room. She was cutting out a party dress she’d just finished coloring, being very careful not to cut off the tabs. * Daria is so much better with the scissors. I wish she’d play paper dress- up with me. I wish she’d play real dress up with me. She turned at a soft knock at her door.

Young Daria stood in the doorway and held out a small box. “Hey, Quinn, I got you a pre-Christmas present.”

Young Quinn’s eyes lit up and she reached to take the box, but then pulled her hand back. Wait, why’s she being nice? “You open it.”

Young Daria looked hurt, but lifted the holly-printed lid off the likewise-decorated box. A large brownish-green pellet was inside, nestled in cotton batting.

Young Quinn wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”

“It’s a reindeer bait pellet. Smell that? The fragrance of the meadows of northern Lapland, where the reindeer roam free till Santa’s elves round them up for the Christmas run. It’s compressed moss and wildflowers. The reindeer love it.” Young Daria explained.

Young Quinn took the bait. “What do you do with it?”

“Set it out where the reindeer land. The idea is to make them stay in one spot longer so that Santa can unload more presents off the sleigh.”

Young Quinn’s eyes lit up. “Oh, cool! You mean like in the yard?” Out in the street? Daria wants me to get more presents? That’s sooo nice! I’ll even share with her!

Young Daria suppressed a laugh. “If you put it in the yard, something else might get it. I’d put it on the roof. That’s where they landed last year. Just throw it up there so it lands on the flat bottom side and it’ll stay.” God, Quinn when are you going to stop being so gullible?

Young Daria went back to her room and Young Quinn charged out right behind her. Y Daria heard the front door open and slam. Smirking, she shook her head. Not so much as a "thanks" had she gotten.

Angel turned to Daria who was smiling her Mona Lisa smile. “Now that was unkind.”

“It was just a joke.” She shrugged.

“Look at the paper dolls, Daria.” She gestured towards the floor.

Daria did. Her eyes widened as she saw the one Young Quinn had just cut out. It looked like her, or rather what a nine-year-old Quinn thought a ten-year-old Daria looked like. She’d never paid attention to what Quinn was playing with, it never seemed interesting.

“She was already trying to give me makeovers.” Daria quipped.

“She just wanted to play with you. She saw the other kids play with their brothers and sisters.”

Daria shrugged. “I thought that stuff was boring and pointless! Why wouldn’t she read with me? Or hike around outside? Sometimes I’d go look for the stuff I saw in my nature books.”

Angel glanced at her. “Same reason. You two never learned to compromise. I blame your parents, and your natural Groups for that. You know, if you’d insisted Quinn go out to look at plants and stuff with you, she would have gone. You gave up too easy.”

Daria frowned at her. “Quinn didn’t try either.”

Angel looked sad. “No, she didn’t. Onward.”

“Will the thrills ever cease.”

The next scene was outside, near a river. Young Daria stood by a river’s edge practicing casting and reeling in. She had a somewhat intense look on her face. Angel and Daria stood a bit up the hill watching.*

“Why did you bring me here? There is no way what happened here was my fault!” Daria was almost yelling.

Angel put a hand out in a calm-down gesture. “Daria, calm down. How many times do I have to say I’m not trying to pick on you? There’s one thing about this day you didn’t know, and I think you should. What your parents did is almost unforgivable.”

“Almost?”

“You did forgive them eventually, didn’t you?”

Daria didn’t answer.

“In your heart you did. But I know this is one of your worst memories. But just watch okay?” They turned back to the scene.

Young Daria cast again. But why does the vile creature hate me so? I didn’t do anything to Quinn that could trigger this all-out, undying hostility. It’s like she had been programmed from birth to do and think and be the exact opposite of everything I do and think and am. And why did Mom and Dad love her more? Is being cute and bouncy that great a thing? Are brains and ability worth so little? Asking them is worse than useless. They deny any favoritism and get mad at me for suggesting it.

Angel turned to Daria. “I know you still don’t believe this, but they don’t love Quinn more than you. It’s just…you were their first baby and they read everything about parenting and children and what to do and expect before you were born, and you certainly did not follow the textbook.” She raised a hand to stop Daria from talking. “It’s not a bad thing, but it left them completely at a loss. They had no idea what to do with you. Quinn on the other hand, was absolute, by the textbook, easy to figure out, baby-toddler-child. They still didn’t know what to do with you, but Quinn was a breeze. Every time they couldn’t figure you out, they rushed to Quinn for the feeling of ‘at least we can do this one’. It’s their failing, not yours or Quinn’s. You were who you were. Your parents just took the easy route and focused on what they knew how to deal with instead of figuring out how to raise you. The fact that you did okay on your own and even seemed happy that way, only reinforced their behavior. It doesn’t make it right, or fair, it’s just how it happened.”

“So why are we here?” Daria still looked angry.

Angel didn’t answer but moved up the hill towards the parking lot. Helen and Jake were starting to unload the car, Young Quinn is wandering at the edge of the asphalt looking at shiny pebbles on the ground and into bushes. I wonder if animals live in there? Oh! What’s that moving? Ewww. A spider. Daria said they eat like their whole weight in bugs or something. It looks fuzzy. I wonder if it’s soft. It’s probably not poisonous. Daria said that the poisonous one was black with red on it’s back and this one is brown and fuzzy. Was there another poisonous one? Yeah, one other. Maybe I can catch this one and show it to Daria and she’ll tell me what it is. The other one was a something rec-something.

Young Quinn reached out to pick up the spider, she got it into one hand and looked at it. A brown recluse! That was the other one! Daria will be so proud I remembered. An expression of sudden fear appeared on her face. Oh no, this one is brown and it was hiding in the bush! That’s what recluses do! Oh no, it’s poisonous! “GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!”

In Young Quinn’s panic she tried to fling off the spider. It, sensing danger, bit her. “IT BIT ME! IT BIT ME! I’M GOING TO DIE! DARIA! THE SPIDER BIT ME! DARIA! DARIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

She continued yelling, Helen and Jake rushed over as her last call for Daria turned into a shrill scream of terror. They saw she’d been bitten by something and panic, they grabbed Young Quinn, jumped in the car, and sped away. Angel and Daria watched the car take off down the road.

Daria turned to Angel, bewildered. “She called for me. Why didn’t she call Mom or Dad?”

“She knew you would know what to do. And you were who she was thinking about anyway. Your parents shouldn’t have left you, but I think until you have a child of your own, you won’t know how terrified they were that Quinn might die from that bite. They didn’t know what it was from and Quinn was too hysterical to say, not that she would’ve known it wasn’t the poisonous one.” Angel paused. “You were amazing that day, Daria. Your parents were proud of you. One more stop.”

“Will this mad, fun-filled, merry-go-round of excitement ever end.”

Angel smiled. “Probably. Here we are, last stop.”

They were a field in back of the house in Highland, looking into a small clearing.

“We’re in the milo patch in back of the old house. What…oh, I remember!” She gave a tiny laugh. “The brainworms from outer space.* Yeah, it was a nasty trick.”

Angel laughed too. “Very creative, I must say, convincing her that alien brainworms had taken over you and everyone else. Just watch.”

Young Daria, still a few feet inside the stand of milo, peered out between the rows. Around the trunk of a tree she could make out Young Quinn’s hair and one shoulder. Cautiously backing farther into the milo, she returned to a place where she could, with difficulty, move two rows to the left. Approaching the clearing again, she could now see Young Quinn more fully, enough to see that she was freaked. Her head was constantly turning, as if she expected to see brainworms or some other horror emerge from the milo or the weeds at any point, and come charging across the muddy verge of the clearing at her. Young Quinn was standing in the middle of the biggest available open space, rubbing her arms, and Young Daria could tell she thought it was much too small.

Young Daria crouch-walked out past the end of the row and slowly straightened up. Young Quinn saw her almost immediately and screamed. She looked around frantically for somewhere to run, but was obviously reluctant to reenter the cruel-leafed milo. Her shorts and short-sleeved shirt had not protected her arms and legs. After darting back and forth a couple of times, she settled on a position directly across the clearing from Young Daria.

“Quinn, there aren’t any brainworms. I was just kidding.” Young Daria slowly removed her backpack and dropped it on the ground.

Just kidding?!” Young Quinn said in a terrified shriek. “What kind of... oh. Ha, ha, mister brainworm. Very funny!”

Young Daria moved closer. “Those wieners were made from chicken. Chicken wieners just do that.”

“You think I’m stupid, don’t you? Even with a worm in your brain, you think I’m stupid! Well, I’m smart enough to know they don’t make weenies out of chicken! You’re not gonna get me that easy!” Young Quinn said in a panicky voice.

“They do now. It’s a new product. Mom bought them on an introductory special. They’re very low fat.” Young Daria tried to reason with her.

Young Quinn looked interested in the fact they were low fat, then shook it off. “Well, if you were kidding, why did you chase me all over to tell me? Why not just leave me out here? That would be twice as funny!”

“No, it wouldn’t. You’d be insane by morning from the mosquitoes alone, not to mention the night noises and your imagination. You’re hard enough to live with as it is.”

This seemed to catch Young Quinn off guard. She stood there for a few seconds with her mouth open, looking half convinced. Then her expression hardened. “Good one, worm. That sounded like something Daria would say.” Poor, poor, Daria, you were so smart. You loved your brain more than anything else, and now there’s a horrible worm in it. I wish I knew how to save you.

Her lip began to quiver and her expression turned very sad. She made a high pitched little sound that might have been "Ohh, Daria..."

It was Young Daria’s turn to be caught off guard. An expression of anything resembling affection from Young Quinn was the last thing she was expecting. Then she realized that Young Quinn was probably thinking of Young Daria warning her to save herself, even as the worm bored into her skull. Remorseful, Young Daria knew she had to straighten Young Quinn out, convince her somehow. “Let’s go home, Quinn. I brought your windbreaker and your cap to protect you from the milo. And some Lanacaine for the itch.”

“Ha! You messed up now, wormy! Daria would never be that nice!” Young Quinn said triumphantly. Not usually, anyway, I wish the non-worm Dari