Nine-Eleven and Counting

Nine-Eleven and Counting

Feedback (good, bad, indifferent, just want to bother me, whatever) is appreciated. Please write to: theangstguy@yahoo.com

Synopsis: The lives of Daria and Quinn Morgendorffer and Jane Lane are caught up in the events of September 11, 2001, when Quinn flies to Boston to visit Daria one weekend—then tries to fly home on that terrible Tuesday morning.

Author’s Notes: This story is rated R for language (f-word, etc.).

“Nine-Eleven and Counting” was my first Daria fanfic, written three years ago this month. You could say it was therapeutic for me, given the time it was done. Reading over it reminds me of things we did in those half-insane days afterward, the unreality of the time. Part of the story appeared in serial form on www.fanfiction.net in early 2002, and the original version was corrected and updated by the end of April. It was rough, but it set the direction, good and bad, for a lot of my later work. This version has been extensively revised and, one hopes, somewhat improved from the original.

“Nine-Eleven and Counting” details Daria Morgendorffer’s entry into college and the twenty-first century. The story assumes that the Daria movie, Is It College Yet?, first broadcast on MTV in January 2002, shows events that took ended in late spring 2001, when she graduated from high school. Daria and Jane entered separate but nearby colleges in Boston in August 2001, a considerable distance from Lawndale (assumed to be a suburb of Baltimore or another major east-coast city).

Part One, “Don’t Know When I’ll Be Back Again,” takes place on September 11, 2001. Part Two (in two sections), “Hate to Wake You Up to Say Goodbye,” takes place from Wednesday afternoon, November 21, through early Saturday morning, November 24, 2001. Part Three, “Hold Me Like You’ll Never Let Me Go,” begins early Saturday, November 24, and ends December 1, 2001.

The abbreviation for Jane’s Boston Fine Arts College, BFAC, is used as a word and pronounced “bee-fak.” The lyrics from the Kid Rock song are from “Fist of Rage.”

Acknowledgements: Special thanks to Kara Wild and Martin J. Pollard for their helpful commentary. And thank you, Kara Wild, for being the first person to welcome me into the weirdness that is Daria fandom. I owe it all to you. Here’s a script. Enjoy.

INT = Interior scene

EXT = Exterior scene

VO = Voice over (off screen)

Part One:

Don’t Know When I’ll Be Back Again

1. INT: TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, EARLY MORNING, DARIA’S DORM ROOM AT RAFT COLLEGE, BOSTON

A digital alarm clock in semidarkness shows it is 5:29 a.m. Daria Morgendorffer’s dark, round-frame glasses are next to the alarm, on top of a book on the bedside table. The clock clicks to 5:30 a.m., and music plays loudly (a boy band like N-Sync). A pale hand reaches over from off-screen and fumbles with the alarm, knocking the glasses to the floor and accidentally turning the volume up louder.

DARIA [VO, groggy]: Damn it.

QUINN [VO]: Oh, Boyz-II-Guyz! I like that song.

The pale hand, trying harder to shut the radio off, accidentally knocks the radio to the floor.

DARIA [VO]: Damn it!

QUINN [VO]: Here, I got it.

The radio volume decreases greatly but remains at the same station, same song.

DARIA [VO]: Quinn, did you change the station? It was on classical.

A pale hand from the opposite side of the screen puts the radio back on the table, then disappears.

QUINN [VO]: Well, I didn’t want to wake up to dead people’s music. This stuff gets you going.

DARIA [VO]: My glasses.

QUINN [VO]: Here, I—

BOTH DARIA AND QUINN [VO, loudly]: Ow!

DARIA [VO]: Dab id!

QUINN [VO]: Well, I didn’t know you were reaching for them, too!

DARIA [VO]: Aw, by dose!

QUINN [VO]: Hold on. Wait. Just a sec.

After a pause, a light comes on. Sounds of movement nearby.

QUINN [VO]: Let me see. Oh, you’re okay, you big baby. It’s not bleeding. Sort of red, though.

DARIA [VO, flat affect, resigned tone]: Good bordig, Quid.

QUINN [VO, cheery]: Good morning, Daria! Be right back—I’m off to the shower!

Sound of retreating footsteps, door opening and slamming shut.

DARIA [VO]: Do bore hours. Juz do bore hours. God, gib be sdregth.

2. EXT. LATER, EARLY MORNING, OUTSIDE DARIA’S DORM, RAFT COLLEGE CAMPUS

It is a perfect predawn mid-September morning along the New England coast, under a near cloudless sky. A large sign identifies the dormitory as the Rebecca Towne Nurse Housing Unit, Raft College, Boston. Daria and her younger sister Quinn, who look much as they did in high school, stand on the curb outside the dorm. (Quinn now has sandals with painted toenails.) Two large suitcases and a backpack sit on the sidewalk next to Quinn. Daria gently touches her nose and winces.

QUINN: That car coming, is that Jane’s?

DARIA: [squinting] I can’t—

A flame-red sports car loudly squeals to a stop in front of the girls.

DARIA: Yes.

Female voices yell from upper-story dorm windows (“Damn it, we’re trying to sleep up here!”). Jane Lane gets out of the car. She looks as she did when living in Lawndale, but now wears a blue silk scarf, too.

JANE: Sorry I’m late. I had to get gas. And I didn’t get my hash browns at the drive-through so I had to go back twice more before—

QUINN: Wow! This is your car?

JANE: It might be. Don’t tell my parole officer.

All put Quinn’s bags in the small trunk.

DARIA: [aside to Jane] I owe you for this.

JANE: Forget it. It was either this or sleep.

QUINN: Oh, no! I forgot my laptop!

DARIA: [groans and fishes her dorm room key from a pocket] Hurry.

QUINN: [takes key] Okay!

Quinn runs off into the dorm.

DARIA: [not too loudly] And if you see your brain, bring that, too.

JANE: How touching. When’d she get here?

DARIA: She flew in Thursday for some kind of national school conference on student alcoholism and drug abuse in town, and she stayed with me over the weekend. The conference ended yesterday. I kept her staked outside on a leash at night, but she slipped her collar.

JANE: Big fun?

DARIA: The biggest. I gave her the full tour, showed her where everyone has outdoor sex, all the fraternities to avoid. And I have a damn paper due today, and I’m only a third through it. Couldn’t work on anything the whole weekend.

JANE: Daria, listen, I can drive her to the airport. Why don’t you go back to work on your stuff? I can handle this.

DARIA: No, I promised I’d see her off. It’s the big sister thing.

JANE: That’s sweet. It’s not like you, but it’s sweet.

DARIA: [spreads arms] Hey, she had a gun! What could I do?

JANE: [sighs] Kids learn so quickly. So, how exactly did your weekend go?

DARIA: Well—

Quinn reappears, running with her laptop clutched in her arms.

DARIA: —well. Later.

JANE: Sure.

All three get into Jane’s car and reach for shoulder harnesses to buckle in.

JANE: Sorry about all the cans and burger bags and pizza boxes on the floor back there.

QUINN: Oh, that’s fine. It’s just like my room at home.

3. INT: MOMENTS LATER, JANE’S CAR, DRIVING THROUGH BOSTON

JANE: [pulling away from curb] So, Quinn, how was your conference?

No answer. Jane looks in the rearview mirror and sees that Quinn has put on earphones for her CD player and is bobbing her head to a faintly heard boy-band song.

JANE: [imitating Quinn in deadpan] Why, it was great, thank you for asking. Daria put me on a leash outside, but I escaped and ran aaaaall over the neighborhood.

DARIA: [turns around and sees that Quinn cannot hear anything] Oh. Figures.

JANE: What’s your paper on?

DARIA: The one-third-done paper? The Internet versus television—which one does the most damage to the viewer or user by misleading his/her perceptions of reality.

JANE: And the answer is—?

DARIA: They both suck.

JANE: Okay, but does one suck more than the other?

DARIA: They just suck.

JANE: Do you recommend an alternative?

DARIA: If you hit someone with a rock, the message is clear and not subject to misinterpretation or spin.

JANE: What class is this for?

DARIA: [takes a deep breath] Postmodern Global Communication Networks.

JANE: [pause, shakes head] Okay, I can’t think of a comeback for that.

DARIA: If you do, call me at once.

JANE: Is it relevant?

DARIA: [snorts] To what?

JANE: [shrugs] Never mind. [pause] So.

Jane peers in the rearview mirror. At the same moment, Daria looks back over her left shoulder. Quinn is slumped in the rear seat, sound asleep, with her earphones on high volume to the boy-band song on the CD player in her lap.

DARIA: [facing forward again] So.

JANE: So.

DARIA: Good to see you.

JANE: You, too. You haven’t changed much since last weekend. A little more gray hair, maybe.

DARIA: I really owe you for this.

JANE: [waves it away] Whatever. Pretty day for a Tuesday, you think? How’s life with you? I mean really?

DARIA: [sighs] You first. [looks at Jane, smiles faintly] You gettin’ any?

JANE: Gettin’ any? Am I, Jane, the Human Sexual Dynamo Lane, gettin’ any? Man, I’ve had to put up police barricades to keep all the guys in line. I wore out three mattresses just this week. Day and night, night and day—

DARIA: Nothing’s happening with me, either.

JANE: [grins] You heard from Tom?

DARIA: [pause, smile vanishes, looks down] Yeah.

JANE: [glances at Daria] And—?

DARIA: I sent him some e-mails. [pause] I just wanted to see how he was doing. He finally wrote back a couple days ago and said he’d met someone else. We’re still friends, but he won’t be dropping by anytime soon.

JANE: He met—

DARIA: [tries to wave it off, irritated look] We broke up long ago. It’s not like it’s anything big. We weren’t right for each other, anyway. Apples and oranges.

JANE: Wouldn’t he be more like a banana?

DARIA: [no sense of humor] Whatever. It’s over. Over over.

JANE: I have some sour grapes in my bag if you want some.

DARIA: It was for the best. I shouldn’t have bothered him.

JANE: [reflecting] You were thinking that maybe he—

DARIA: No, I wasn’t thinking. That was the problem.

Jane forms her mouth into a soundless “o.” Pause.

JANE: Trent’s available.

DARIA: [agonized look at Jane] Oh, please!

JANE: [smiles again] Zing! So, tell me, does anyone look interesting on campus?

DARIA: A guy I met in the library asked me if I slept with my glasses on.

JANE: I meant interesting, but not in the Chinese sense of being cursed.

DARIA: A bunch of guys in one of the fraternity houses yelled that they wanted to see my tits. They offered me beer. I flipped them off, and that cheered them up loads.

JANE: [smile fading] Uh—

DARIA: The guy who sits in front of me in Creative Writing said he had a gallon of orange vodka in his room, all the way from Russia, and would I like to finish it off with him sometime.

JANE: [clears throat] Uh, yeah, how’s your roommate, what’s-her-name, Jennifer, the one you told me about last week?

DARIA: She threw up in my car Friday night when I was taking her to the emergency room for alcohol poisoning. That’s the reason I called you last night about driving us to the airport. I won’t get the car back from the shop until Friday. There’s a lot of throwing up in cars going around. Must be something in the bourbon.

JANE: Is she all right? Jennifer?

DARIA: They pumped her stomach. She should be back in class tomorrow. [pause] Quinn helped a lot. She did, really. She said she has a friend like that and doesn’t know what to do about it.

JANE: I think I heard her mention it once. Someone she met on that hostessing job she had? What was it, Lindsey?

DARIA: Lindy, yeah. She told me about her before school let out. Quinn was going to talk to her about getting help, but I don’t know what came of it.

JANE: How are you getting along with Jennifer?

DARIA: I’m moving out as soon as I can find anyone who will rent me a closet to sleep in. I won’t be picky.

JANE: Can you talk to her about this problem?

DARIA: She doesn’t have a problem. She told me that last Wednesday morning after she got back from a party and threw up in her bed and slept in it.

JANE: [looking queasy] I wish you hadn’t said that after I’ve been to Burger Baron for breakfast.

DARIA: Oh. Sorry. Wasn’t thinking again.

Both pause to see if Quinn is still asleep. She is.

DARIA: You remember a long time ago when I told you that high school was exactly like Dante’s Inferno?

JANE: That was three weeks ago, just before we got here.

DARIA: I was wrong. High school is the antechamber to Hell. It’s the dark forest that you wander through just before you find the infernal gates. High school had structure in the form of parents, sort of like Virgil walking along with you until he drops you off at Hell’s mouth. There’s no structure here, though, except for classes. Everyone’s a wild animal, roaming around doing the Darwin thing, only the smartest are at the bottom of the food chain. No one has any direction. No one’s got a clue. It’s stupidity to the googolplex power. Precambrian slime posing as humanity.

JANE: [glances at Daria] Zero to any power is still zero. I mean, this is sort of what we’d expected, isn’t it?

DARIA: [her buttons pushed] We’re three weeks into classes, and all anyone talks about is what they were drinking, who they were sleeping with, how many times they puke—oh, sorry, forget that part. The only good thing I’ve got going is that everyone thinks I’m a boring asshole and most of them leave me alone.

JANE: That’s . . . uh . . . good.

DARIA: [restless] Tell me about Boston Fine Arts. Please.

JANE: Oh, well, my lucky streak continues. [ticks off points with fingers of right hand] First, you help me get into BFAC, then some freshmen drop out and the school likes my portfolio, so they advance me into the fall semester instead of the spring, then someone else drops out and I get his first-year scholarship, and now, now, I get into that filled-up Figure Drawing class after someone else drops it. That promises to be an interesting class. I have it today at one.

DARIA: Figure drawing, like that life model drawing class you had a few years ago with, um—

JANE: [animated] Naked men. Some naked women, too, yeah, but naked men for sure. Yeah.

Daria looks right at Jane and waits for more. Jane says nothing, just stares into space while driving.

DARIA: And—?

JANE: [starts to smile] And what?

DARIA: And?

JANE: And they’re naked. You know. No clothes on.

DARIA: [insistent, louder] And?

JANE: Well, okay, a couple of them, the guys, look really good. One’s a real hottie. Got a little warm looking at him. There’s a use for jocks after all. They sure keep fit. [blows out a puff of air] Woof.

DARIA: [smiling now] You haven’t taken any artistic license with them?

JANE: Ah, well, now that you mention it, I was thinking of, um—one of them is kind of funny. Really funny funny. He’s in business, from Raft actually, a sophomore, I think. He works out a lot. He’s a runner. I don’t know that he’d be much for conversation, but I’d thought about a, um, private session one evening, some oils—for oil painting, I mean, something on canvas—you know. [smiling, can’t stop it] You know!

DARIA: [shakes head, looks away] Not from any personal experience, but my imagination is working fine.

JANE: Well, that’s what guys are there for, right?

DARIA: [smile fading] Maybe I should get out more. I just don’t know when or how. I’ve got so much work.

JANE: You’ve got to make a little time for it. You were the one who chose nineteen credit hours, not me.

DARIA: You should have slapped me.

JANE: I almost did. I probably still should.

Daria nods, her smile gone. She glances back; Quinn is still asleep.

DARIA: You know what pisses me off the most?

JANE: [giving Daria a long stare before looking back at the highway] Is this a trick question?

DARIA: I thought I was coming to college to learn about reality.

JANE: [coughs to suppress sudden laughter] I see.

DARIA: I wasn’t thinking, I guess. It’s like swimming up the rapids. I seem to get farther from reality all the time. Do you feel like that?

JANE: I’m an artist, Daria. I don’t have anything to do with reality.

DARIA: I want to write, but I’ll starve to death before I get anything published and made into a movie for a six-figure contract. Or even twenty bucks in a poetry magazine.

JANE: There’s always a place for you in the food-service sector.

DARIA: [depressed] That . . . that might be the case.

JANE: Want me to read something you’re working on?

DARIA: [looks uncomfortable] Maybe. I can e-mail it to you.

JANE: Do that. See if you can get the campus paper to print an op-ed piece.

DARIA: [snorts] I tried that. The editor called me a fascist Nazi bitch.

JANE: [stunned look] No way!

DARIA: She said I had talent, though. It wasn’t much and it was wasted, but I had it.

JANE: Oh, jeez, you’re kidding me!

DARIA: I wish. Maybe she was right.

JANE: [reprovingly] Daria!

Daria sighs. They drive in silence. Jane still shakes her head in amazement.

DARIA: [pointing] That’s the airport exit, the next one.

JANE: Uh-huh.

DARIA: [takes a deep breath, low voice] Jane, I want to talk to you about something.

JANE: [glances at Daria, puzzled] Okay.

Daria checks on the sleeping Quinn.

DARIA: About Tom.

JANE: [apprehensive] Oooh-kay.

DARIA: [pause] I’m sorry.

JANE: [pause] I, uh, think we’ve gotten beyond that. That was over a year ago.

DARIA: It wasn’t worth it. Losing you. I almost lost you.

Jane is about to say something, but stops and waits.

DARIA: [looks out side window] I really regret that now. I wish I’d never done it, gone out with him.

JANE: [softly] Daria, really, that—

DARIA: I wasn’t thinking.

JANE: [sharper] Daria, stop it!

Both glance back and see Quinn still asleep, her mouth open.

JANE: [softly] You didn’t lose me! It’s all right. It wasn’t important!

Pause. Neither looks at the other.

JANE: Well, it wasn’t that important. Forget it. Please. Get past it. I did. Besides, if memory serves me, I dumped you for months before then so I could go out with Tom, and why in the hell are we even talking about this? Damn, just drop it!

DARIA: [looks down at her hands, softly] I don’t want to lose you.

JANE: [swallows] You won’t.

Jane puts her right hand out, and Daria automatically takes it with her left. They give each other’s hand a hard, long squeeze, then let go so Jane can drive again.

JANE: [very low voice] You must have had a really bad time this weekend.

DARIA: It—it wasn’t that bad. Quinn was all right. It’s not her. I’m just nervous about everything: papers, classes, my future life, the fate of human civilization and the Earth, little crap like that.

JANE: You need to get out more.

DARIA: [plays with fingers] Can’t. I’ve got—there’s just no time. Everyone else here gets as shitfaced as B-movie zombies, like it doesn’t matter what they do. They’ve got plenty of time. They’re immortal.

JANE: We’re all immortal, at least those of us who haven’t died yet. You’re immortal.

DARIA: Right, and Bill Clinton’s going to fly out of my ass.

Jane laughs, then coughs and can’t stop laughing and coughing. She struggles to drive at the same time.

QUINN: [waking up, very groggy] Whaaat?

DARIA: Never mind. Jane, there—we have to take the exit. The exit! Turn!

Jane tries to speak but is still laughing and coughing at the same time, so nothing intelligible comes out.

4. EXT: A SHORT TIME LATER, TERMINAL, BOSTON’S LOGAN AIRPORT, DEPARTURES DROP-OFF

Jane’s red car pulls into Boston’s Logan Airport and heads for the terminal’s departures drop-off. She finds a temporary parking spot by the doors. Quinn and Daria quickly get out and pull Quinn’s luggage out of the trunk.

DARIA: [struggling with a heavy suitcase] Next time, you don’t have to bring every cosmetic you own. The ones in the lead jars are the worst.

QUINN: I really appreciate you letting me stay with you. And I’m sorry about your nose this morning. It looks okay now. Not so red. A little swollen, maybe.

DARIA: I’ll spring for a hotel room next time you come by.

QUINN: Oh, no. I’d rather be with you. [impulsively hugs Daria, who is startled and drops the suitcase] I love you! You’re a great sister!

DARIA: What—?

QUINN: [kisses Daria on cheek] Thanks for everything. I’ll mail your comb and brush back later.

DARIA: No, please keep them! It’s okay!

QUINN: [lets go of Daria] Bye, Jane! Thanks! I like your car! And your scarf! That’s a good color for you! You look lots better that way!

DARIA: You’d better go. Your flight leaves about eight.

QUINN: Oh, silly, check-in isn’t going to take long. I’ve got almost thirty minutes to shop!

DARIA: At an airport? For what?

QUINN: Oh! Almost forgot! [pulls slip of paper from pants pocket] Listen, here’s my cell phone number.

DARIA: I think you gave me that already. Twice.

QUINN: Well, once more won’t hurt. Tuck that away somewhere.

DARIA: [resigned] Sure, why not. [tucks slip of paper into jacket pocket]

QUINN: Bye, Daria! See you! [waves, struggles to pull wheeled luggage on straps behind her]

DARIA: [waves] Bye! See you in . . . some other time!

QUINN: Bye!

DARIA: Bye.

QUINN: Bye!

DARIA: [waves weakly] Yeah, bye.

QUINN: Bye!

Quinn goes into the terminal. Daria watches her go, then gets back in the car and flops back into the passenger seat in exhaustion, her eyes closed.

DARIA: Step on it. She might come back.

JANE: [fake Scottish accent] Aye, cap’in, but I dinna know if th’ engines can take it!

Jane guns the engine, and the car pulls away from the curb with squealing tires.

5. INT: SOME TIME LATER, JANE’S CAR, AT DRIVE-THROUGH FAST-FOOD WINDOW, BOSTON

JANE: [takes large sip from her milkshake straw] Tell me this doesn’t make up for the traffic jam.

DARIA: [putting straw into large milkshake] I swore I was never going to eat at one of these places.

JANE: [puts drink in her lap as she pulls away from drive-through window] When was this? We’ve always eaten at places like this.

DARIA: I made twenty resolutions my first day on campus. That was number one.

JANE: What about the other resolutions?

DARIA: I’ve got two left.

JANE: They are—?

DARIA: Don’t date anyone who drinks, smokes, shoots up, carries a gun, or is in love with his farts.

JANE: And the other?

DARIA: [frowns] I don’t remember. Doesn’t matter, I’ve probably broken it already.

JANE: Quinn bring any interesting news from home? Aside from the school stuff, I mean.

DARIA: Oh, yeah. My room’s been converted into a guest bedroom. Everything I didn’t take with me is in boxes in the basement next to the sump pump.

JANE: Trent says my room is exactly as I left it. Sort of like a shrine.

DARIA: Do they leave offerings in it?

JANE: Probably nothing I want to pick up without rubber gloves on.

DARIA: Want to come by my room and sit a while? You’ve got hours until the Naked Lunch.

JANE: Sure. Uh, what about the, uh, your roommate’s bed, you know?

DARIA: What? Oh, that. I emptied two cans of air freshener around it, and the room doesn’t smell that much anymore. Sort of.

JANE: [looking queasy again] How about we just walk around and enjoy the sunshine? I wanna see where you hang out here.

DARIA: Okay. There should be visitors’ parking left by the Commons. The frat boys should still be sleeping off last night’s binge, so we’ll be okay.

JANE: [relieved] Good. Fresh air.

6. EXT: MINUTES LATER, STUDENT COMMONS PARKING LOT, RAFT CAMPUS

Jane finds a parking space. Both get out carrying their milkshakes, locking the doors behind them. Daria and Jane look around the campus. Loud music, by Kid Rock, plays from a rental house nearby.

DARIA: It isn’t much, you know, but—it isn’t much.

JANE: Looks pretty big from where I’m standing.

DARIA: Just an illusion. The Internet and television do that to you. Distort your perceptions.

JANE: What time is it?

DARIA: [checks her watch] You’ve got four hours until your beefcake is served. Relax.

JANE: Quinn’s on her way home?

DARIA: She took off almost an hour ago. We were still in traffic. Those semis scare the crap out of me, what they can do to your car.

JANE: [makes an anxious face] Yes, thanks, don’t remind me.

DARIA: We can—what are you doing?

JANE: [bobbing head to Kid Rock music in background] What? Oh, this?

DARIA: Yes, that. Please stop.

JANE: [singing along with music while making a fierce face] “I’ve seen the future and it’s lookin’ grim / A lake of fire, lookin’ like a long swim / I’m a fist of rage! I’m a fist of rage!” Oh, c’mon, don’t you love that male white trash stuff?

DARIA: It’s because you’re an artist that you do things like this, right?

JANE: [stops bobbing along with the music] I just do it to bug you, because you’re Daria.

DARIA: That was special.

JANE: Thanks.

DARIA: Don’t do it again.

JANE: [looks woebegone] Aw, rats.

The music abruptly shuts off in the middle of the song.

DARIA: [taking on a beatific look] Listen! Do you hear that?

JANE: [playing along] What is it? It makes my head feel strange!

DARIA: It’s silence! The rarest thing in all Raft College! Listen!

Both listen. Amused at first, they slowly become aware that, indeed, the campus is very quiet. They look around, becoming puzzled.

DARIA: Well.

JANE: Yes, it does seem . . .

DARIA: Yeah. You don’t think it’s because of us, do you?

Jane cannot think of a comeback. Their attention is drawn to a girl student who suddenly runs from a door in the Commons. She is sobbing. She heads toward the two girls, then pulls out her car keys, gets into a car, and drives off with screaming tires. In the distance, a male student can be heard yelling, “Damn it! God damn it!” His shouts echo around the campus. Daria and Jane look at one another, then continue looking around. Hearing running footsteps behind them, the girls turn and see a male student running toward the Commons. As he passes them, he slows a moment. His expression is agonized.

STUDENT: It’s an attack! They hit the other tower! [runs off] Those lousy bastards!

Stunned, Daria and Jane merely watch him go. Jane then looks down at the milkshake in her hand, and she walks over a few steps to a garbage can and drops it in, unfinished. Daria, who is done with hers, does the same.

JANE: Maybe we should go in and see if there’s, like, a TV or something.

DARIA: There’s a big screen set right inside.

The two walk toward the Commons. Soon they can see a large crowd of students in the TV lounge, through the Commons first-floor windows. They cannot see the big-screen TV through the crowd. Several students are holding their heads, and several appear to be weeping. A female student is outside the Commons doors, shrieking into a cell phone.

STUDENT: [near hysteria] Where are you, Daddy? Where in Manhattan is that? Can you see it? No! Don’t go near there! Daddy! Get out of the building! Get out of there! Daddy, listen to me! Daddy, get the hell out of there! [begins to sob]

Jane and Daria pass her to go inside, their confusion turning to fear.

7. EXT: MOMENTS LATER, STUDENT COMMONS TV LOUNGE, RAFT CAMPUS

As Daria and Jane open the doors, they can hear the TV, its volume turned up very loud. The students watching the TV seem paralyzed, most of them voiceless. Several talk in whispers, never taking their eyes from the screen.

Jane takes the initiative and gently pushes through the crowd. Only moments later, she gets a full view of the TV screen and stops dead.

JANE: [lets breath out in a rush, aghast] Oh, hell.

DARIA: What’s— [sees TV screen, stops dead, voice runs out]

They stare at the screen like everyone else. Time passes and no one notices. New York City is shut down. The federal shutdown of all airline flights is announced. The Pentagon is hit. The South Tower of the World Trade Center collapses. New York and Washington, D.C. evacuations are announced. The North Tower collapses. Word is passed that hijacked airliners were used in the attack. The crash of a fourth jet in Pennsylvania is announced. Soon after this last part, Jane leans closer to the giant TV screen, reading a line of news type running along the bottom of the screen.

JANE: Oh. Oh, no.

Jane glances at Daria to see if she’s seen the type. Daria has but says nothing. Jane looks around and leans toward a guy standing near her.

JANE: [whispering] What flight did they say was—[almost glances at Daria but stops herself]—from here?

STUDENT: [never taking eyes from TV] It left Logan this morning. They’re not sure which one it was, though.

Jane looks back at Daria. Daria’s face is blank with horror as she stares at the big screen.

JANE: [gently] Daria, let’s go. We should call about—

DARIA: [speaking slowly, eyes never leaving the TV] Quinn. [pause] I know her flight number, five one three. [pause] I have her phone . . .

Daria’s voice runs out as she and Jane look back at the TV. The announcer says that two hijacked flights from Boston Logan are believed involved, from different airlines. Each left the airport about eight o’clock that morning. Daria is speechless.

JANE: [firmly] Come on.

Jane takes Daria by the arm and pulls her away from the crowd, down the hall a bit. Once by themselves, out of sight of the TV, Jane reaches into her red jacket and pulls out a small red cell phone.

JANE: You have Quinn’s cell phone number?

DARIA: [very subdued; looks down, reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out the scrap of paper Quinn gave her] Here.

JANE: Okay. [flips open her phone] She’s on flight five one three?

DARIA: [soft voice] May I call? Please.

JANE: [half-second pause] Sure. Here. [hands Daria the cell phone but holds up the paper herself so Daria can see it]

Daria pushes the buttons, moving like a slow-motion robot. When done, she raises the phone to her ear. It rings five times.

FEMALE VOICE ON PHONE: We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is not answering. Please try your call again later.

DARIA: [slowly flips phone shut, then opens it again] Let me try again. I might have gotten it wrong.

JANE: Sure. Maybe you can’t call a cell phone on a plane or something. I don’t remember if cell phones work from aircraft.

DARIA: They do. Mom gets calls on planes all the time.

Daria punches out the numbers again, raises the phone, and hears:

FEMALE VOICE ON PHONE: We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is not answering. Please—

Daria snaps the phone shut, opens it, and dials again, faster.

FEMALE VOICE ON PHONE: We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is not—

DARIA: No. [dials again]

FEMALE VOICE ON PHONE: We’re sorry, but the num—

DARIA: [breathing heavily now] No. [dials again]

JANE: [very softly] Daria.

FEMALE VOICE ON PHONE: We’re sorry—

Daria’s face twists as she grips the phone. She snaps it shut, opens it, but accidentally drops it.

DARIA: [snatching for the phone, too late] Damn it!

The phone bounces on the floor but doesn’t appear to be damaged. Daria snatches it up and starts dialing again.

JANE: Daria!

DARIA: [panicked, losing control] Wait a minute!

FEMALE VOICE ON PHONE: We’re sor—

DARIA: Shit! [snaps phone shut, wipes face with one hand] I’m not getting it right! I’m not getting her number right!

STUDENT [in background, in the TV crowd]: Two planes hijacked out of Boston Logan, Jesus Christ! How could they do that? Doesn’t anyone do security checks?

JANE: Maybe she didn’t charge her phone batteries. It might just have die—gone out.

Daria snaps open the phone and dials once more, from memory, very fast.

FEMALE VOICE ON PHONE: We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed—

DARIA: [losing it] You are not sorry! You are not sorry!

FEMALE VOICE ON PHONE: —is not answering. Please try your call again later.

JANE: [grabs Daria’s hands] Daria! Let’s call the airline! I know she’s okay!

DARIA: [on the verge of losing it, howls] Quinnnnn!

JANE: Daria! [moves close, grabs Daria in tight full body hug] Daria! Stop it! She’s alive! I know it! Stop it! Quinn’s alive! She is!

Daria fights for self-control, face red, trying hard not to cry.

JANE: [still holds Daria as tightly as possible, speaks flat and low] We’ll call the airline. I can get the number. If they shut the airlines down, they may have routed her flight somewhere else. She could be anywhere, but she is alive. [speaking slowly and firmly] Quinn is alive. She’s alive and well. We’re going to find her now.

Daria hangs onto her self-control by the thinnest threat. She gives one nod. Tears stream down her face.

JANE: We need to sit down. Then we’re going to find Quinn. Come on.

Daria nods again, still hanging on. Jane looks around and guides her over to a lounge sofa where several male and female students are sitting, talking animatedly on cell phones.<