"Daria" is owned and copyrighted by MTV. All rights reserved. This is *not* an episode, but the best imitation of an episode that I could write. Thanks to the creators of "Daria" for providing so much rich material for fanfics.... This is the twenty-second and final episode of The Driven Wild Universe. It follows 1)"Rose-Colored Lenses," 2) "The Tie That Chokes," 3) "That Thing You Say," 4) "'Shipped Out," 5) "Andrea Speaks!", 6) "Cheered Down," 7) "None in the Family, Part One," 8) "None in the Family, Part Two," 9) "Outvoted," 10) "Of Absolute Value," 11) "Breaking the Mold," 12) "Surreal World," 13) "Erin the Head," 14) "Primarily Color," 15) "The Age of Cynicism," 16) "Charge of the Math Brigade,"17) "An Uneasy Marriage," 18) "In Her Own Words," 19) "All But Forgotten," 20) "Memory Road," and 21) "Into the Fire." For the final episode, I'll be scrapping my usual three Acts in favor of seven. Yes, seven. And it will be commercial-free! Hey, they did it for the final "Daria" movie, "Is It College Yet?". [intro theme music...................] TOMORROW NEVER KNOWS -- by Kara Wild ACT ONE SCENE 1 (Lane residence, afternoon) (Daria comes up to the front door, rings the bell, and knocks urgently.) (Inside, Jane walks down the stairs, toward the door.) JANE: All right, already. You Jehovah's Witnesses sure don't take burning effigies in the front yard for an answer, do you? (She opens the door, sees Daria's stricken expression.) JANE: Daria. You did it? You had it out with Phelps? DARIA: (stiff) Yes, but don't worry... the numbness and chills have worn off. All that's left is the pain. (Jane ushers Daria inside and closes the door.) JANE: I take it your tete-a-tete didn't go so well. DARIA: Let's just say I'm no Clarence Darrow. When faced with someone who can mount an effective attack, I fall to pieces. JANE: Come on, I'm sure you didn't do *that* badly. DARIA: Well, I couldn't get him to transfer Quinn from his class. I couldn't get him to admit to any wrongdoing. I showed all my cards by admitting I knew about his past. Oh yes, and I also confessed that I loved Big Brother. JANE: So it wasn't your most shining moment. I told you Phelps isn't easy to intimidate. DARIA: More like *he* got to me. I see now why Quinn finds it so hard to ignore him. He has this way of looking at you like he *knows* you better than you know yourself. JANE: Oh yeah, the eye thing. I should have warned you about that -- first they stare at you really hard, and then they narrow, like he's locked in on a target and about to burn it to pieces with a wave of hypnotic energy. He makes those kids from "Village of the Damned" look like "The Bad News Bears." (She distorts her eyes in demonstration.) DARIA: Thank you. I was at the live event -- I don't need a replay. JANE: That look made me hit the math book harder than I ever thought possible. And occasionally lose total bladder control. (Daria shoots her a look of disgust.) JANE: Kidding! Seriously, though, I'm sure you did the best you could. DARIA: Which wasn't enough. I feel like I'm running out of options. JANE: Well, you could -- DARIA: Except for *that* one. (She sighs, then glances at the clock.) Do any of your clocks give accurate time? JANE: The one on the TV Guide Channel just told me it was four o'clock. DARIA: I hope she isn't in court today. I want to talk to her without Quinn overhearing. JANE: Daria, did something else happen? You look so shaken, I was on the verge of asking you to lie down. DARIA: Phelps said that if I went public with my concerns, he would retaliate. He also said... JANE: What? DARIA: ... that I was just like him. Or rather, that he used to be like me, until circumstances turned him into a bitter jerk with the uncanny mannerisms of Nosferatu. JANE: He was just trying to scare you. DARIA: Right. (frowns) Good thing *that* didn't work. (cut to: ) SCENE 2 (The Settlement, later) HELEN: He *threatened* you?! (Helen and Daria sit at one of the corner tables. Daria has finished telling her mother her past suspicions of Phelps and their most recent run-in.) HELEN: I *knew* there was something I didn't like about that man! The way he acted like he always knew *so* more than everyone else! And now, threatening a defenseless teenager?! (She reaches down into her briefcase and pulls out a notepad and pen.) HELEN: Well he's not going to get away with this! I want to know *everything*, Daria! Tell me exactly what he said. DARIA: Just that he knew information that could make my year and even my future very difficult. HELEN: What sort of information? DARIA: I told you: I worked on an underground newspaper. My articles were frank and even a bit harsh, but I didn't do anything wrong. Unless he meant my keeping an army of mutant squirrels in the backyard. HELEN: Did he elaborate? DARIA: No. His tone filled in the gaps well enough. (Helen jots this down.) HELEN: Can you recall anything more concrete? It would really help your case. DARIA: They don't convict people in court on the basis of tone? HELEN: Unfortunately, no. DARIA: I was afraid you'd say that. HELEN: Getting back to the problem sets he had for Quinn: Did you keep a copy of one? Something that could be cross checked with an actual system of bank account numbers? DARIA: (cheeks reddening) No. I might have, but Quinn caught me snooping and since then has kept her door firmly locked at all times. HELEN: This man you met, this Marshall, did he describe in detail how the account theft system worked? DARIA: You mean besides the fact that it siphoned money? (She shakes her head. Helen smiles, but can't hide the fact that she was expecting to hear more.) DARIA: Why don't you just say it? I've got nothing on this guy. HELEN: That's *not* what I was... though I'm glad you came to me before your principal or the police. If you had gotten Mr. Phelps into trouble, he could have sued us for defamation of character, and without evidence to back up your claims, we could have been forced to pay him thousands of dollars. DARIA: Would you have rather I minded my own business and let Quinn continue with actions that were possibly illegal? HELEN: Of course not. It was very sweet of you to look out for your sister -- but there were better ways you could have done it. How do you think Quinn would react if you pulled her out of her favorite class without consulting her? DARIA: Pretty upset. HELEN: I just don't understand why you never came to us. DARIA: Maybe out of dread that my suspicions would be shot down. HELEN: Daria, I was just being realistic. DARIA: So am I. Don't you remember when Quinn's teacher first got hyper- involved in her studies? I raised some concerns then, and you jumped on the Phelps-is-God bandwagon. HELEN: But we had no reason to assume anything *bad* had happened. If Quinn had told us her teacher wanted her to cheat, it would have been different. DARIA: She only told *me* because she knew I was suspicious. If I'd revered him like you and Dad, I would still be in the dark. HELEN: We were trying to *help* her. DARIA: And you did it by making me look like a jealous brat, undermining my already shaky credibility with Quinn. That's why I didn't come to you before. I almost didn't come to you today. (Helen looks at her, her expression growing weary.) HELEN: I didn't realize we did that. I'm sorry. DARIA: And truth be told, over the past few months, neither you nor Dad were in any position to hear my vague conspiracy theories. Before the separation, Dad was always out in the evenings and you were too busy tending to your personal crisis. HELEN: Daria, you and Quinn *are* my personal crisis. I mean -- DARIA: I get what you mean. But there were times when you seemed so out of it, I wasn't sure if you remembered your own name. (Helen closes her mouth and reflects upon her depression, knowing that Daria is closer to the truth than she realizes.) HELEN: I know I haven't been the greatest mom to either of you lately. I've made a lot of decisions that I wish I could take back. (catch in her voice.) But believe me when I say that I love you both more than anything in the world. I just want you girls to get everything you want out of life, to achieve what I know you could. You know that, don't you? (Daria sees her mother's eyes grow bright with tears.) DARIA: Yeah... I do. HELEN: Your father feels the same way. I don't want you to ever think we'd place our problems ahead of yours. DARIA: So if I find you choking to death, I shouldn't let that stop me >from talking about my "not so fresh" feeling? (Helen lets out a little tension-easing laugh.) DARIA: Thanks, Mom. That means a lot. I just wish I had gotten real evidence before giving you a scare. HELEN: Maybe you don't have it now, but that doesn't mean it isn't there. DARIA: So you believe me? HELEN: I believe *in* you. You're too smart and too levelheaded to stick with paranoid conclusions, Daria. If you really think Quinn's teacher is up to something, you'll find the evidence to prove it. We'll get to the bottom of this, somehow. DARIA: "We"? HELEN: You're not in this alone... you never were. All I ask is that you not make rash decisions or go behind your sister's back, okay? DARIA: You mean like right now? HELEN: Er... anymore. (She smiles wryly at Daria, and Daria smirks back, feeling the tension ease >from her shoulders.) (cut to: ) SCENE 3 (Quinn's room, later) QUINN: Mom, I can't believe she would lie to me. (Helen stands over Quinn, who sits on the bed, her hostility toward her mother temporarily overcome by hurt feelings toward her sister.) QUINN: Daria said she would stop acting jealous and treat me like I was smart. She sounded so sincere, I really believed her. HELEN: Quinn, think about it carefully for a moment. Would your sister really go to so much trouble if she were only jealous? (Quinn gazes down at the floor, her brow furrowing, trying to shut out her mother's words and the unwanted thoughts that come with them.) QUINN: Maybe she just doesn't *think* she's jealous. HELEN: I think she was concerned. And hearing her details, so am I, a little. Is there anything you could tell me to prove they aren't true? (Quinn fixes her gaze on the floor.) HELEN: Quinn, look at me. Please. Is any of it true? QUINN: Mom, you and Dad have seen me working on really hard math problems before. There's no way it can all be stuff that Mr. Phelps made up to rob a bank, or whatever. HELEN: Honey, no one's saying *everything* you've done is suspect. Could I look at one of the problem sets she mentioned? QUINN: I don't have them. I gave all of that statistics stuff to Mr. Phelps. HELEN: And you're *sure* he never said anything to you that seemed ethically challenged? That you felt was wrong? (Quinn bites her lip, her face clouding over in thought.) QUINN: No. HELEN: Not even when you were on the mathletics team? QUINN: I said *no*. HELEN: Quinn. (Quinn meets her mother's eyes, and her startled expression gives way to one of pain.) QUINN: She told you? HELEN: About your teacher giving you problems that were going to be used in the tournaments? Is it -- QUINN: (flustered) He was just trying to prepare me. After I messed up against Cumberland, he gave me some problems to build my confidence. HELEN: *Were* they actual -- QUINN: He didn't -- I wouldn't -- I didn't cheat. Did she tell you I cheated?! HELEN: She said nothing of the sort. Just that that's what you told her, and she was worried. QUINN: I would never cheat, Mom! HELEN: I believe you. (She strokes Quinn's hair, and Quinn exhales shakily, her shoulders relaxing. Helen, however, cannot keep her growing concern at bay.) HELEN: All the same, I think I'll give Mr. Phelps a call. QUINN: Why?! HELEN: Because I want to trust him the same way. Besides, I'm long overdue for another talk with him, and what kind of mother would I be if I didn't keep tabs on your teachers? (Quinn's expression turns stony. She leans back so that Helen can no longer touch her.) HELEN: Honey, I don't blame you for feeling upset -- but I'm doing this to help you, not punish you. And I'm pretty sure that if you asked Daria, she would tell you the same. (Quinn leans all the way back, so her back is against the mattress and she faces the ceiling.) HELEN: Just give it some thought, would you? (She waits for a reply, and when she doesn't get one, sighs quietly and leaves the room. Alone, Quinn stares at the ceiling with pained, searching eyes.) (cut to: ) SCENE 4 (Phelps's house, evening) (Shot of the outside reveals a two-story gray-stoned house surrounded by several trees, quiet enough to suggest that it is a bit removed from a typical subdivision.) PHELPS: (V.O.) Mrs. Morgendorffer, I can assure you... (Cut to shot of Phelps seated in an upholstered chair in his private office. He has papers spread out before him, but his attention is on the phone call. He presses his lips together, barely able to contain his impatience.) PHELPS: Mrs. Mor-- Mrs.... Yes, I understand. *Yes*. HELEN: (from the phone) Then you'll understand that I take threats against my children *very* seriously! PHELPS: I was just surprised by her request and my temper got away from me. You know how that goes. But I meant *nothing* by it -- HELEN: (O.S.) I expect a full apology *first* thing tomorrow. PHELPS: Yes, yes, and I'll say right now that I am deeply sorry my intentions were so misunderstood. I -- (Phelps finds himself cut off and taps a pencil against the arm of his chair.) PHELPS: Mathletics problems? (Pause) The ones I gave Quinn were just accurate *examples*, not the problems themselves. I couldn't possibly know -- (Cut off again, he beats his pencil against the chair harder.) PHELPS: Practice problems or statistics sheets, I assure you that I would never give my students work that wasn't completely legitimate. (Cut to shot of Helen in the Morgendorffers' kitchen, the phone to her ear. She stands over the stove, emptying a bag of peas into boiling water.) HELEN: Then you wouldn't mind faxing a few statistic sheets to my office tomorrow so I can take a look at them. My fax number is 555-3455 -- that's 555-3455, *not* 555-3454. I will *not* have another situation where that Lindsay Pearlman can read my private materials. He turns every little thing into a *huge* disaster, and -- well I'm *sorry* your pencil broke, go find another one. (Quinn walks down the stairs, overhearing this last bit. She cringes -- this isn't exactly the "talking" she had expected.) HELEN: And *while* we're on the subject, Quinn has fallen behind in several of her classes and my phone has been *ringing* off the hook with teachers calling to complain, so I *strongly* suggest you put a stop to these extra assignments until she's caught up -- you do know she has *six* other classes? (Daria reads at the table. Over the rim of her book, she sees Quinn walk slowly over to her chair. Their eyes meet for a moment; then Quinn sits down, her expression subdued, but not unfriendly.) (Cut to shot of Phelps in his office, beating a new pencil to ruin.) PHELPS: I'm of the old school, you see, Mrs. Morg-- (Cut off again, he tosses his pencil aside and takes a blank sheet of paper.) Where I'm from, students in their teens immerse themselves in a few select subjects for their A-level exams. I *still* think that is the best approach, but for Quinn's sake, I'll allow her to catch up in her other classes. All right? (He listens and tears off a scrap of paper.) Very good, then. (Pause) Yes, you, too. (Pause) And *yes*, once again, I apologize for speaking so harshly to your older daughter. (Pause) I certainly will from now on. (Pause) Have a pleasant evening. (He lays the phone down hard in its cradle and puts the paper aside. He then runs his hands across what remains of his hair and, for a few moments, stares stonily at the open door in front of him.) PHELPS: Marshall. (louder) *Marshall*. (After a few beats of silence, a quiet pattering is heard in the hallway, and Marshall Winsett pops his head in the doorway.) MARSHALL: Did you want something, love? PHELPS: Could you come in here for a moment, please? (Marshall walks in and moves to give him an affectionate embrace and kiss on the cheek, but notices that his partner isn't reciprocating.) MARSHALL: You look a bit frightened, Alfie. What's the matter? PHELPS: (draws away) I had a very interesting meeting with a student earlier today. MARSHALL: Really? What about? PHELPS: She told me that she knew about my past. The parts I wouldn't want made public. (Marshall's expression remains unchanged, but he stands up straighter and moves to face his partner.) PHELPS: Assuming she was telling the truth, I tried to think of who might have tipped her off, and knew of only one person still living in the area. (expression hardens.) Marshall, did you speak to a Ms. Daria Morgendorffer recently? (Marshall doesn't speak for a beat or two. Then his shoulders sink.) MARSHALL: (soft) I just wanted to find out what she knew. Very little, it turned out. PHELPS: So you decided to fill her in? MARSHALL: Please don't look at me that way, Alfred. As far as she knows, they're only rumors. PHELPS: "Rumors"? (He laughs softly, angrily.) As if that made any difference at all. You don't know this girl, Marshall. She's extremely self-righteous and invested in her version of the truth. Now that you've encouraged her, she'll keep digging until she's found something incriminating. Why in God's name did you tell her anything? MARSHALL: I wasn't going to, but something about her struck a chord inside me. She sounded so concerned. PHELPS: If I didn't love you, I would be phoning my lawyer about now. MARSHALL: She's Quinn's sister, isn't she? (Phelps's cheeks color at the sound of her name.) PHELPS: Yes, she is. MARSHALL: I thought so. I couldn't remember Quinn's last name, but knew it was similar. When her sister mentioned that she didn't want someone close to her to get hurt, I made the connection. And I wondered... what exactly are you doing with this girl, Alfred? PHELPS: Her sister -- concerned? (Again, he chuckles with disgust.) You have no idea what sort of family Quinn comes from. A mother who, a few days every month, remembers that she's supposed to be a parent. A father so self-absorbed and ignorant that he can barely keep track of his children's ages. And a sister so invested in being right, so sure of her own brilliance, that she regularly insults Quinn's intelligence to keep her under control. The only thing she was *concerned* about was having her own prejudices confirmed. MARSHALL: She seemed sincere enough when I met with her. PHELPS: Yes, well, you always were a soft touch. Believe me, the only thing I'm doing is giving Quinn a sense of the possible that she never got at home. MARSHALL: So you're not...? (Phelps stares at him, hurt and anger clouding his expression.) PHELPS: You don't trust me. You've never trusted me, not since... MARSHALL: Please, Alfred, I've *tried* to trust you. It's just that for the past several months, I've felt as though you're keeping things from me. Your attentiveness to that Quinn girl just reminded me... PHELPS: (pained smile) How can I convince you that things are different now, that I've changed? MARSHALL: By telling me the truth. Not that you aren't, just that if you found yourself in any sort of trouble, you would tell me. PHELPS: I'm your partner, Marshall, not some stupid, wayward child to be kept in line. If we don't have basic trust between us, we don't have anything. MARSHALL: Please, Alfie, I didn't mean it that way. PHELPS: From the moment you asked me to, I've stopped siphoning money. I've shown you the balance sheets -- all of my foreign accounts with their zero amounts. I got a fresh start at Lawndale and you still won't let it rest. I feel as though nothing I do is ever good enough for you, Marshall. MARSHALL: Oh darling, please. PHELPS: I finally found some peace, a renewed sense of purpose, and you had to go dredge up the past. MARSHALL: Alfie, I love you! I've been with you for fifteen years -- do you really think one instance of theft is going to change that? PHELPS: I love you, too. But your meeting with that Morgendorffer girl has really rattled my faith. How do I know that you won't meet with her again, or her mother, or whomever else she drags into the mix? MARSHALL: She doesn't know my relation to you, and no one was with her when we met. If she comes snooping about some more, I'll just deny I said anything. PHELPS: Marshall, I want to believe you... (He looks at him probingly, then turns his face away.) ...but I know you. You still want to turn me in to the Fielding board to satisfy your conscience. MARSHALL: I would never... you said you had stopped, so... PHELPS: Of course, if you did, they would want to know why you, a Fielding administrator, have kept it under your hat for so long. That could lead to quite a scandal. The honorable Mr. Winsett, one of the Winsetts of Highbury, standing by while the gay lover he never mentions stole money from Fielding parents. (Marshall's face loses some expression.) PHELPS: Imagine your colleagues, all of the students with whom you've worked, what they would say. And your family -- aside from the stain on their reputation, they would finally learn that you're "that way." (lips curl a little.) You would finally have to tell them. MARSHALL: I told you I love you, Alfred. I'll stand by you. PHELPS: Thank you, Marshall. (Marshall walks toward the door, then pauses and looks back at Phelps.) MARSHALL: You say that you love me, too. Yet sometimes... PHELPS: What? MARSHALL: Never mind. (He leaves. Phelps watches after him, his mouth slightly ajar, as if preparing to ask a question. He finally closes it and looks at the door with a mixture of wariness and sadness, then stands up and walks over to one of the shelves.) PHELPS: (soft, musing) If she won't stop... someone will have to stop her. (He reaches above his head and pulls down one of several file folders, then fingers the newsprint inside.) (cut to: ) SCENE 5 (Lawndale High, the next day) (Daria and Jane walk down the hallway, between classes.) JANE: So Helen's sweet talking paid off, did it? DARIA: From the way she was ranting, it was hard to tell, but I think he's going to stop giving Quinn extra assignments. JANE: Then why the extra-thick air of gloom? DARIA: It just felt so easy. Too easy. (They turn a corner in the direction of O'Neill's room -- and run smack into Ms. Li.) MS. LI: Darierrr... just the person I wanted to see. (Daria looks at Jane, then at their principal.) DARIA: Regarding? MS. LI: We'll discuss that in my office. Come with me. (She motions for Daria to follow and Daria does so slowly, with more fear than she would have guessed possible. Jane watches her with concern.) (cut to: ) SCENE 6 (Ms. Li's office) (Daria sits across from Ms. Li, who holds up an underground newspaper.) MS. LI: Does *this* look familiar to you? DARIA: They pass it around school twice a month. MS. LI: You *wrote* for this paper, didn't you? DARIA: Who told you that? MS. LI: I'm not at liberty to divulge my sources. DARIA: Just tell me if it was a student. MS. LI: *What* did I just say, Ms. Morgendorffer?! The point is that you were fingered as one of the writers for a paper that has made some scandalous charges against Lllllawndale High. DARIA: Were they true? MS. LI: No, they were not true! What sort of banana republic do you think I *run* here?! (As Daria opens her mouth.) *Don't* answer. I don't need to hear any of your smart-mouthed comments. I just want the truth! (Daria feels a chill. She thinks about the fates of her former peers on the underground and, after her encounter with Phelps, the way total truth could be used against her. At the same time, she is convinced of her innocence and that she shouldn't have to act like she has something to hide. She finally heaves a sigh.) DARIA: Yes, I wrote for the underground newspaper. My articles were carefully researched, and I left before the paper started printing most of the inflammatory items you mentioned. MS. LI: And you *never* knew of any wrongdoing? DARIA: Only one article, but I wasn't involved. MS. LI: Then whyyyy didn't you turn this delinquent in to the proper authorities?? DARIA: The writer wasn't a student here. MS. LI: Is that really an *excuse*?! DARIA: I thought the article was clumsy, but I didn't know it was wrong. I wasn't in charge of editorial decisions. MS. LI: So you just *let* these callous and untrue comments cirrrculate the school without repercussion?! DARIA: Instead of firebombing the newspaper pile, like I should have? MS. LI: This is no joke! DARIA: Neither's the sight of two hundred students running for their life >from a raging inferno. MS. LI: Ms. Morgendorffer, these articles over the past year have been the greatest threat to Llllllllllawndale High ever. Forget random lawsuits for discrimination or a possible murderer running for class president -- *this* is a concerted effort to undermine the school and all who hold it dear. DARIA: In order to do what? Establish a biker bar in its place? MS. LI: I should think *you* would know that answer. I'll have you know that I won't sit idly by while miscreants try to drive me out! Drastic situations call for drastic measures, which I am more than prepared to take. DARIA: You're acting as though I ran the paper myself. I didn't even decide which articles went beneath the masthead. Why should *I* be responsible for an article that I had no part of, which wasn't even written by a student here? MS. LI: And how am I supposed to *know* that? DARIA: (eyes narrow) Ask Damien Crawley. He could tell you. MS. LI: Yes, well, that may be. But how do I know you had nothing to do with any of the other *libelous* articles printed here? DARIA: My pen name is Erasmus. Look it up for yourself. MS. LI: I'll just do that. And until we get to the bottom of this, Ms. Morgendorffer, I have no choice but to suspend you. DARIA: What?? MS. LI: You may be innocent of all charges, but your association with this sordid rag says *deeply* disturbing things about your character. I therefore can't trust you to be around other students. DARIA: (growing angry) Why not? They just ignore me, anyway. MS. LI: And might I say I'm *surprised* at you, Darierrr. I had you pegged as a disgruntled misfit, but not a bomb thrower. Clearly my psychological evaluations need to be revamped. DARIA: I told you, I didn't do anything wrong. MS. LI: So for *one* week, starting tomorrow, you are not to come anywhere near the premises. (Daria feels another shiver, remembering Andrea.) DARIA: And then what? MS. LI: And then maybe you'll think *twice* about your rehhhckless behavior. (groans with disgust.) Stay right there while I phone your parents. (Daria remains still, assessing her punishment.) DARIA: Just one week? MS. LI: Keep talking, and it will be more. (Daria watches her dial the phone, feeling both anger and relief.) END OF ACT ONE ACT TWO SCENE 1 (Lawndale High, same day) (Quinn walks up to Phelps's classroom and stands outside, looking in. She watches him fill the blackboard with equations, as he does before every class. Her face grows pensive and nervous.) SANDI: (O.S.) WATCH it, you *creep*! (Quinn jumps, then swerves to look. Nearby, Sandi stands with her back to the lockers, glaring at Skylar Feldman, who stands over her.) SKYLAR: Come *on*, Sandi, I'd think you'd be used to that by now. (He leans in toward her, and Sandi pushes him away.) SANDI: Try that again, you *pervert*, and I'll have every girl in school spitting on you. SKYLAR: (laughs) Oh really? Just how many friends do you think you have? (Sandi's glare darkens.) Because from what I've seen, most girls seem to think you're a lying backstabber. I've probably given you more attention in one minute than they've given you in a week. QUINN: Which is one minute too long. (Skylar spins around and looks at Quinn, now standing just behind him. Sandi gets a look of faint relief.) SKYLAR: Whoa. Didn't mean to get your tampon in a twist, Quinn. QUINN: Oh grow up, you jerk. Sandi doesn't fall for you, so you treat her like a rip in your leather interior? She's got a lot more friends than she knows. (crosses her arms.) And some of them could tell the school about that little problem you have with your *nose* running whenever you make out. (Skylar goes pale.) SKYLAR: You wouldn't -- QUINN: Try me. (Skylar stares at her, before his bravado re-emerges.) SKYLAR: Threatened by Phelps's "special friend"? I'm really scared. QUINN: What?! He is *so* gay. He told me. SKYLAR: Not what we see. (smiles) Ciao, ladies. (Sandi and Quinn stare after him murderously.) SANDI & QUINN: *Loser*. QUINN: Sandi, what's going on? You're not really letting guys... do stuff to you, are you? SANDI: *Great*, not you, too. QUINN: So it's not true? SANDI: What do you think, you idiot? (Quinn's eyes narrow at her insult, but she persists.) QUINN: Then why don't you *tell* people? Sandi, you disappear every day and you don't say where you went, and people have seen you walking around town with strange guys. So some rumors spread that you're... you *know*, and you could get rid of them if you just told the truth. So why don't you? SANDI: (sneer) *Sure* I will. When you stop *doing* it with Mr. Phelps. (Quinn's mouth drops open and her face reddens.) QUINN: You *know* I haven't --! SANDI: *Relax*, Quinn. I was just making a point. (Quinn realizes that she jumped to conclusions unfairly.) SANDI: We both know people will believe what they *want* to believe. QUINN: But your friends will believe you. Look, Stacy, Tiffany, and I have been kind of worried. It's not the rumors, it's that you've been so distant. We just want to know what's happening with you. (Sandi looks at her, debates whether to tell, then rolls her eyes with disgust.) SANDI: You wouldn't believe me if I told you. (She walks away in a huff, as Quinn stares at her, dumbfounded.) QUINN: I would, too! (Knowing Sandi is beyond earshot, she turns and walks slowly to Phelps's room.) (cut to: ) SCENE 2 (Phelps's classroom) (Quinn enters and stands at the back of the room. Unable to shake the conversation with Helen or Skylar's sneering insinuations, she remains silent, until Phelps feels her presence and turns around.) PHELPS: Ms. Morgendorffer, you're two periods early. What's the occasion? QUINN: Oh, I... um... (She walks toward him, trying to gather her thoughts.) QUINN: I just wanted to say sorry for the way my mother yelled at you yesterday. She's always so into her job, she never knows what she's talking about. PHELPS: (smiles) Now, now, she wouldn't be a mother if she weren't overprotective. QUINN: (forced laugh) I can't believe she thought you were making me do bad things. That's just stupid... right? PHELPS: I'd prefer "a misunderstanding." The intensity with which I've been training you can be very unsettling to someone on the outside. Be gentle with her: She couldn't have known that you've finished my last project and I was going to set you free anyway. QUINN: Yeah. (She feels herself relaxing, then frowns as the meaning of his words sinks in.) It's gonna be weird not coming to your classroom after school. PHELPS: For me as well. When we started, I never dreamt I would get so much reward from our time. QUINN: Mr. Phelps? Does this mean you and I won't be... PHELPS: Won't be...? QUINN: That, um, we won't talk to each other and stuff outside of class? PHELPS: (understands) We'll always be friends, Ms. Morgendorffer. QUINN: Oh. Good. (She exhales, surprised by her relief.) I know some students think I'm dumb for spending so much time with you, but I like being friends with a teacher. PHELPS: And I've grown rather fond of you. I'll admit, when I first set eyes on you, I dismissed you as one of the "lost causes" -- a student who cared so much about the superficial that no amount of pushing would bring her grade above a C. But you surprised me with your vibrancy and focus. I'm very proud of you for the progress you've made over the past year. QUINN: (sheepish) Mr. Phelps, what... made you *know* that I was worth looking out for? Compared to the really good students? (Phelps leans against the edge of his desk, wearing a thoughtful expression.) PHELPS: I can't recall the specific test, but I remember that I had added a bonus question with more twists and turns than the average problem, plus one unexpected step. Everyone got it wrong, including my A students. It wasn't in the textbook, so they couldn't study it. Only *one* person guessed correctly. QUINN: (remembers) *Oh*. PHELPS: I asked you to come see me after class and explain how you had solved the problem. I thought that if you'd cheated, I would find out then. But you explained your steps from start to finish. I asked, "How did you know how to do this?" And you said... QUINN: How else could it be done? PHELPS: That's exactly right. It was so instinctive, you just *knew* -- never dreaming that other students wouldn't have done the same thing. Many students are smart enough to learn the right steps and apply them quickly. Fewer have the innate ability to think outside the box. That's when I realized that you were special and decided to keep an eye on you. (Quinn smiles, her face flushing at his praise.) PHELPS: My only concern was whether you had the drive to achieve. But you did it. Before long, you didn't even need my help anymore. You did it on your own. (Quinn's eyes meet those of Mr. Phelps. For once, she doesn't feel a sense of intimidation or awe, but rather that she is with an equal, and that he feels the same way about her.) QUINN: (shy) I'd better go to my next class. PHELPS: Yes, you wouldn't want to be late. (Quinn turns and starts to head out. Then she turns back.) QUINN: Mr. Phelps, why wouldn't you let me take the Advanced Placement exam? (Phelps stares at her. He was unprepared for this shift in subject matter.) PHELPS: Oh yes, that. You see, more seniors had passed into the A.P.-level classes than I had anticipated, which left no room for junior transfers such as yourself. It had nothing to do with my confidence in your ability. QUINN: That's the only reason? PHELPS: Yes. When the next exam period comes along, you'll be signed up. (The worry that briefly imprinted itself on Quinn's face eases slowly.) PHELPS: As I told your sister -- QUINN: You talked to Daria? (Phelps notes the surprise in her tone, and his expression relaxes.) PHELPS: We spoke yesterday. QUINN: What did she want? PHELPS: Well... (He pauses to look about the classroom, which is still empty of students.) She was trying to transfer you out of my class. (The color drains from Quinn's cheeks.) QUINN: What? PHELPS: She was very insistent, no matter how often I told her that it was *your* decision, not hers. QUINN: Why would she do that? PHELPS: That's a very good question, Ms. Morgendorffer. QUINN: She was acting weird, saying you were trying to get me to do things. But I never thought she would go *that* far. PHELPS: Does your sister have an active imagination? QUINN: Sure, she's a writer. PHELPS: Is it possible that she got caught up in one of her fantasies and let it distort her perception of reality? QUINN: Maybe. Once when she was really sick, she dreamt that holidays were living at our house. But she hasn't been sick lately. PHELPS: I'll confess that her brazenness *did* take me by surprise. (Quinn's face takes on a stricken expression.) QUINN: I can't believe... you mean she just came here and *ordered* you to transfer me?! PHELPS: Oh now, don't be too upset with Daria -- I'm sure she has a good explanation. She's your sister, after all. (Barely hearing him, Quinn turns to leave. Although Phelps watches her go with genuine sympathy, his lips turn upward imperceptibly.) (cut to: ) SCENE 3 (Jake's apartment, Friday) (Outside shot of the apartment complex.) JAKE: (V.O.) You got *suspended*, kiddo?! (Cut to shot of Daria and Quinn seated on Jake's couch, watching the large-screen television. The screen is divided in two, with one half showing Fashion Vision and the other Sick Sad World. Jake appears before them with a cooking spoon, which he waves angrily.) JAKE: Why didn't Helen *tell* me?! It's just *like* her to keep all of the important stuff from old Jakey because she thinks I can't handle it! DARIA: There, there. It'll be all right. JAKE: I *knew* it. You're acting out without the presence of a father figure. I need to bond with you some more! QUINN: Dad, could you move? You're blocking my side of the T.V. JAKE: Oh. (He steps away quickly, his expression still worried.) DARIA: Relax Dad. She probably didn't tell you because it's only been a couple of days and she's been trying to get it revoked. JAKE: This could go on your permanent record! They send people to military school for stuff like this! DARIA: Where my acting out would be encouraged as long as none of my targets could sue. JAKE: That's not... (He pauses and tilts his head upward to sniff.) Wait a minute, what's that -- GAH! My risotto! (He races toward the kitchen, leaving Daria and Quinn alone. Quinn glances at Daria, her shock after talking with Phelps overshadowed by new shock at her sister's predicament. Daria sighs heavily, betraying the frustration she has felt since Ms. Li suspended her.) QUINN: (quiet) When did you write for the underground paper? I don't remember that. DARIA: Nor would you. I started last spring and didn't tell anyone. QUINN: Not even Jane? DARIA: *Except* for Jane. (Quinn turns away to reflect. Daria grows annoyed at her awkward behavior.) DARIA: Would you stop treating me like an animal you've been assigned to study? Yes, I wrote for a non-school-sanctioned newspaper and I've lived to tell about it. QUINN: But you were with those guys... DARIA: *What* guys? QUINN: Those freaks. I knew about some of the students who got in trouble, Daria. Guys like that Danny (shudders) were in my classes, and he would always talk about "shooting up" or driving drunk across rich people's lawns at night. DARIA: (grim) I never witnessed such acts firsthand. QUINN: Why would you hang out with people like him instead of... DARIA: Jane? (Quinn gazes at her a moment, then looks away.) Let's just say that I was in a bad place emotionally, with the problems in our family really getting to me. I met a group of pretty nice kids from less than stellar backgrounds, and we united in the common goal of putting out a quality newspaper. It was a noble idea while it lasted, and I still think that a lot of the staffers have gotten a bad rap. QUINN: (uneasy) Oh. Okay. DARIA: *What*? QUINN: That paper was weird. I once looked at some of the articles and the tone seemed really nasty. DARIA: You actually read something an unpopular person wrote? What, did you forget your glasses and think it was the latest issue of Waif? QUINN: I just didn't think you were like that. DARIA: Yes, well, you'd be surprised at the range and depth of my emotions. (Quinn's expression darkens. Just then Jake pops his head in.) JAKE: Say girls, who needs slaving over a hot stove? What do you say we order a pizza? DARIA: Fine. QUINN: Whatever. JAKE: Great! (He disappears inside the kitchen to make the call.) DARIA: You won't tell anyone what happened, will you? I don't want to deal with any annoying questions. *Have* you told anyone? QUINN: Like I would do that. I'm embarrassed enough just knowing it myself. DARIA: Aw *thanks*. You should coordinate with Jane, then, to come up with an excuse for my absence. One that *doesn't* have me stranded in the middle of the ocean with just my copy of _The Old Man and the Sea_. (Quinn nods, looks as if she wants to say something more, then falls silent. She and Daria watch their shows until Jake reappears and shuts off the television. He sits down in a chair beside them.) JAKE: Okay girls, pizza's gonna be here in thirty minutes, so what do you say we pass the time with a little Dad-and-daughter bonding? No need to bring up the S-word -- we can talk about sports. The, um, other S-word. (His daughters give him a look.) JAKE: Okay, no sports. How about music! ("cool" voice.) So... what's hip with the scene? (Daria and Quinn exchange looks. Jake reaches under the coffee table and produces a board game.) JAKE: Scrabble for your thoughts? DARIA: Um, Dad? JAKE: Yeah, kiddo?! DARIA: We're very flattered by all the attention you give us... QUINN: ...but it's kind of hard to feel like we're at home with you hovering around all the time. DARIA: Like having a helper monkey that's suffered a compound fracture to the skull. JAKE: It's just that I have such a short time with you girls. I want you to get the most out of it, so you don't resent me the way I resent my father. DARIA: I'm sure that won't -- JAKE: God knows *my* father couldn't even bother to spend five lousy minutes caring about what *I* wanted. No shooting the breeze with little Jakey. QUINN: Dad, that's -- JAKE: "Real men don't talk about their problems, son." Real men don't *have* problems, he meant! You shove them *way* down where no one can see them, until they fester and boil, only to *explode* when you least expect it, wreaking untold havoc on your life and loved ones FOREVER! QUINN: Dad! Forget your dad. He's not here. DARIA: While the minutes you have to spend with *us* are ticking away. JAKE: Oh! Of course. (He sobers up.) I just meant, if only I had you for more than one night. DARIA: How many nights were you thinking? JAKE: Two... three, maybe? QUINN: If I have to stay here more often, I want my own bed. Sharing one with your sister is *creepy* when you're our age, Dad. We're not little kids. DARIA: For Dad, it would be creepy at any age. QUINN: And there's no *privacy* here. Nothing feels like it's mine. JAKE: But honey... we could fix that. DARIA: What about your teaching? JAKE: Oh, that's almost over. QUINN: What about *her*? (Daria winces a little, then looks at Jake, who tries his best to stay cool.) JAKE: Well, of course we'd have to, um, discuss how she'll fit in. But once you meet her, I think you two will love Sarah. She's a real neat woman. DARIA: So she *does* have a name. QUINN: She's not spending the night here, is she?? JAKE: Of *course* not, not while you're here. DARIA: But she *does*... spend the night. (Jake goes ashen, realizing what he's given away.) JAKE: Some... times. (His daughters fall silent, their faces growing pale and angry. After a few moments, Quinn stands up.) QUINN: I'm going for a walk. JAKE: Honey, the food will be here soon. QUINN: I'm not hungry. (She strides over to the door.) JAKE: Just don't... (The door closes hard behind her.) ... go too far. (Morose, he looks at Daria, who averts her gaze until, slowly, she lifts her head to look him in the eye.) DARIA: (quiet) Are you and Mom getting a divorce? (Jake's shoulders sag.) JAKE: I don't know. We haven't talked about it since... (winces) ...you know. DARIA: Does it feel like you're going to? JAKE: Sometimes it does. Other times, no. (Daria exhales softly, with frustration.) DARIA: When will you be introducing us to your mystery woman? JAKE: I wanted to wait until we were all a little more settled, so you and Quinn wouldn't blame her for anything that's happened. DARIA: Then I guess we'll never meet her. (cut to: ) SCENE 4 (Daria's room, the next day) (Jane enters with a list of assignments in hand, and finds Daria on her knees on the floor, digging under her bed.) JANE: What kind of twisted juvie cleans out her room during her time off? (lays the list on Daria's desk, gazes about.) Or are you competing in the World Packrat Extreme Challenge? (Across the floor, on Daria's bed, her bedside table, and her desk, sit large piles of books and notebooks, as well as odds and ends like bones, wrinkled clothing, and scribbles on lined paper.) DARIA: I'm looking for the secret vortex beneath my bed, which would explain how I hid so much crap without the floor boards giving way. JANE: "Crap"? These are some of your classics. (She picks up one notebook >from the top of the pile and flips through.) Melody Powers goes back in time and tries to stop Hitler from being conceived. Heh, love how she slipped estrogen into the guy's coffee... DARIA: (cheeks reddening) You *know* it's crap when reciting the plot points just makes it sound stupider. Anyway, I'm not running inventory of past work. I'm looking for one of my journals. JANE: I could help you there. What does it look like? DARIA: That's the problem. My journals don't have a distinct look. I just write on what's around and hope the historians will piece it together. JANE: Why do you need it? DARIA: My mom thought that if I had evidence, we could strengthen our case against the suspension. JANE: What happened to confronting that Damien guy? DARIA: Once he regained consciousness, to his credit, he called the school right away to say I was innocent. Yet somehow Ms. Li had trouble accepting the word of an irresponsible egomaniac who looked the other way as his staffers trashed her school. JANE: Is *he* gonna suffer any punishment? DARIA: Who knows? But his staffers are gone and his underground media empire destroyed. For someone like Damien, that's worse than if he were put in jail. JANE: And you're stuck looking for credibility amongst the dust balls. DARIA: I remembered that I'd written down almost everything about the underground in a journal, and have thus spent the better part of the afternoon looking for it. JANE: Journal with vindicating evidence? Got it. (She starts sifting through the pile of books, giving each a closer inspection.) DARIA: So how are things on the school side of life? JANE: Absolutely riveting. Yesterday Kevin entranced the entire lunchroom with his ability to eat corn dogs at lightening speed, while Brittany shocked and amazed with her talent for being adoring and vacant at the same time. DARIA: Let's see them do that while walking over hot coals. JANE: Some students have been asking about you. I told them you were taking a college tour with your parents. DARIA: That excuse sounds a little dull for Jane Lane. JANE: Where they would conduct experiments on your brain. (Daria gives her a look.) Kidding! DARIA: I never thought I would miss school. Some day, I'm sure I will. JANE: The teachers have been counting the minutes until you return. Imagine them having to prop up an entire class with their skill. DARIA: I hope the Lawndale Suicide Hotline hasn't overloaded. JANE: Mr. DeMartino even asked about you. (Daria gets a sour look.) DARIA: Great. JANE: Hey, at least it wasn't you-know-who. Have you thought about whether he's...? DARIA: (sighing) Yes, my mom and I discussed whether Phelps blew my cover. And while it's possible, given his recent threats, the evidence is far from conclusive. Ms. Li was conducting her witch hunt long before I even spoke to Phelps. For now, all I can do is tuck my suspicions away in an ever-growing file. JANE: Other than that, how are things on the home front? DARIA: Not too bad. Mom stopped threatening to bring me to her office to file depositions once she realized I've spent my time off actually *doing* school work. And with the house to myself, let's just say that my Tom Cruise impression has gotten a lot sharper. JANE: Should I be worried? DARIA: I know my penalty is a week at most, but this whole thing sucks. I got suspended. It'll be on my record, and I wasn't even guilty. JANE: Yeah, at least if you *had* been guilty, you could take some twisted pleasure in the whole thing. DARIA: It's almost enough to make me wish I were. JANE: Hey, be glad you're not headed for the gulag like you thought. No shoveling coal in Phys Ed class. DARIA: True. (Something occurs to her.) Did Andrea ask where I was? JANE: No. Come to think of it... I haven't seen her. (She and Daria exchange troubled looks.) DARIA: So, anything new outside of school? JANE: Speaking of college tours, I'll soon be taking one with Tom and his mother. DARIA: (brightening) You *are* going to college? JANE: Not so fast, Morgendorffer, I haven't made up my mind yet. And even if I had, I sure as hell wouldn't be going Bromwell, Princeton, or any of those snob schools. DARIA: Then why the trip? JANE: To support Tom, who would otherwise be stuck discussing charity fundraisers every minute he and his mother were alone. Plus, Kay Sloane hates me. DARIA: And trapping yourself in a car with her is *good* because...? JANE: Half the reason she suggested this trip is because she thought I'd refuse, and then she could spend quality car time convincing Tom that I was all wrong for him. (smiles wickedly.) Instead, I get to watch her strain to hide her disgust under a thin veil of upper-crust civility. DARIA: Sounds like quite a trip. JANE: Care to wager on who will return with their sanity intact? DARIA: Too unpredictable. (She looks at one of her books reflectively.) I hope you and Tom manage to stay on good terms until then, because I may need him. Possibly this week. JANE: For what? DARIA: I've been trying to get back in touch with that Fielding Prep administrator. The e-mail I sent him bounced back and he hasn't responded to my phone messages. JANE: That doesn't sound promising. DARIA: Still, he's the only one to give me clues that Phelps is up to something bad. I need to press him to be specific -- *did* Phelps really steal a bunch of money and *could* he be doing it at Lawndale? Quinn won't believe me otherwise. JANE: So what do you need Tom for? DARIA: I may have to visit the guy in person, and I'll need a student to get me past the security gate. JANE: I'm sure Tom would be glad to help. DARIA: If that jerk Phelps thought that threatening me would curb my desire to learn the truth, he should have known better. JANE: I hope some day Quinn appreciates what you're doing. (cut to: ) SCENE 5 (Fielding Preparatory Academy, Tuesday) (Daria walks with Tom past a wide green lawn, toward an impressive series of Gothic-looking buildings. Tom wears Fielding's uniform of a dark suit coat and tie, which Daria smirks at with quiet amusement.) DARIA: I almost didn't recognize you in your Prince of Wales get-up. TOM: This coat is great for hiding murder weapons. (They enter one of the buildings, and Daria finds herself surrounded by students in dark suits on their way to various classes. She suddenly feels self-conscious, and focuses her eyes on the high ceiling and stained glass windows.) DARIA: Will Quasimodo be ringing the dinner bell? TOM: It's his week off. Come on -- the administrators' offices are down this hallway. (Daria follows Tom past a row of doors, each with a gold plaque bearing the administrator's name beside it. At last, they come upon a partially open door with the plaque "Marshall Winsett IV, Esq." Tom starts to enter, but Daria pulls him back.) DARIA: Wait, Tom. TOM: You'll need a witness. DARIA: I don't want to get you into trouble. You can listen from out here. TOM: (doubtful) Okay. (Daria enters a spacious office, where the walls are lined with bookcases. At the far end are a large mahogany desk and two ornate chairs. Marshall Winsett sits behind the desk in a leather swivel chair, partially turned away, his attention on a phone call. Daria walks toward his desk just as he's about to end it.) MARSHALL: (into the phone) Yes, I agree, those *are* the areas in greatest need of funding... (Pause) I'll definitely present it to the board... (He turns, sees Daria, and his eyes widen.) Yes... you, too. Thank you for calling. Good day. (He lays down the phone gently, his eyes locked with Daria's. As when they met the first time, neither speaks for a moment.) DARIA: Mr. Winsett? You remember me, don't you? MARSHALL: Yes, Daria, I remember you. DARIA: Um, I've been trying to get a hold of you. I didn't want to bother you in person, but I couldn't reach you any other way. MARSHALL: We've had a few bugs in our system lately. The repairmen are still trying to get it in working order. (He says this in a pleasant, detached manner. Daria feels as though his manner is different, but can't quite figure out how.) DARIA: That's all right. I just wanted to ask... um, about the conversation we had a couple of weeks ago about Mr. Phelps. MARSHALL: About his time at Fielding, yes. DARIA: (blushes) And certain rumors that were going around school. MARSHALL: Daria, there are so many rumors about teachers flying around, it's difficult to keep track of them all. DARIA: These rumors involved the possible siphoning of money, an activity that could still be going on at his current school. MARSHALL: I don't recall what you're talking about. (A beat, as Daria frowns with confusion. She glances behind her, wondering if Marshall is concerned about being overheard.) DARIA: If you'd like a refresher, we could meet again at a cafe. MARSHALL: That would be very nice, but I'm afraid my schedule is booked up for the next several weeks. (Daria's eyes narrow a little as she probes his demeanor.) DARIA: You don't have *any* spare time? MARSHALL: Unfortunately, no. Now I'm sorry, Daria, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave so I can prepare for a meeting this afternoon. DARIA: Mr. Winsett, I told you before, one of my family members might be caught up in Mr. Phelps's scheme. She could be in danger and I need to know the truth. (She gazes at Marshall with fierce eyes, and for a moment he seems to waiver. Then he regains his professional detachment.) MARSHALL: I wish you good luck in finding your answers. DARIA: But -- MARSHALL: Good day. (Daria presses her lips together, her cheeks reddening with frustration. When it's clear that Marshall won't budge, she turns toward the door.) (cut to: ) SCENE 6 (Morgendorffer house, that evening) (Helen has just gotten home and is sorting through the daily mail on the kitchen table. Her expression is marred by a scowl.) HELEN: *Honest* to God, don't First Amendment rights mean *anything* these days?! After the debacle with the Zero Tolerance policy, one would *think* the school would be a little more--! (She sees Daria enter the kitchen and immediately tones down her manner.) DARIA: No success, huh? HELEN: I'm afraid not. Ever since the outbreak of school shootings, the laws and the courts have given schools *so* much authority, they can do just about whatever they want. And good students like yourself pay the price. (Daria cocks a weary eyelid and opens the refrigerator.) HELEN: Did you find your journal? DARIA: Yes. HELEN: You did?? Why didn't you tell me? DARIA: Because it cuts off. I'd forgotten about how much I wrote about my time on the underground. The journal I found describes how I joined, but not how I left. I can't find the journal that tells the rest. HELEN: I'm sorry, sweetie. At least your suspension lasts one more day -- then everything will go back to normal. (Daria finds a soda and opens it, unsure if this is true. She is about to leave, when Helen waves her back.) HELEN: Daria, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about. (She opens her briefcase on the table and pulls out several sheets of paper.) Are these the problem sets you found on Quinn's desk? (Daria comes over and her eyes widen. The rows of numbers are all there, beneath which is Quinn's -- what can only be described as -- bouncy writing.) DARIA: Yes, that's them. HELEN: And this is your sister's writing, correct? DARIA: Yes. HELEN: After Mr. Phelps faxed these over last week, I asked a junior associate to investigate them, since his younger brother is an econ major in college. DARIA: And?? HELEN: He told me... they're statistics. The type normally found in a college- level class. (Daria's face falls.) DARIA: That's all? HELEN: He said he was very impressed that Quinn was doing such challenging work at her age. DARIA: And there was nothing about them that seemed... off the mark? HELEN: Not that either of us could see. He even showed me a textbook section that was similar. (She notes Daria's expression.) I want to get a confirmation >from Quinn, but if this is true... DARIA: It means my suspicions of Phelps are unfounded. HELEN: I wouldn't go that far. However, I will suggest that for now, you let them rest. There's no use fretting when, as far as we know, Quinn's not doing anything illegal and Mr. Phelps has promised to not give her extra work. Let's just see what else we learn, all right? (Daria nods, her expression gloomy.) (cut to: ) SCENE 7 (Daria's room, a short time later) (Daria sits on the bed, talking to Jane on the phone, her journal lying in her lap.) JANE: (O.S.) Maybe that Winsett guy was worried that talking would set off fireworks that would hurt his precious school. DARIA: I hope so, because I didn't just dream it. It happened. I *know* Marshall Winsett told me about Phelps stealing. I know it was more than just a rumor. JANE: (O.S.) And even if he's not stealing, he might be cheating. DARIA: Precisely. Why would Quinn even tell me about it unless some part of her thought it was wrong? (frowns) Of course, since then she's fiercely denied it. (She flips open her journal and sees one of her old entries: "By imagining the guy really *is* using Quinn for his own sordid purposes, I create a ready adversary for myself against whom I can exercise control that I haven't been able to find at home or elsewhere.") (Daria reads this, then exhales quietly and gazes at the ceiling.) END OF ACT TWO ACT THREE SCENE 1 (Lane residence, Wednesday late afternoon) (Jane opens the door for Daria, looking troubled.) DARIA: All right, what's so urgent that you had to tear me away from my final free evening of counting cracks in the walls? JANE: Check out the latest issue of the Lowdown. (She hands Daria a copy and shuts the door behind her. Daria's eyes widen -- the banner headline reads "Underground Fraudsters Brought to Justice.") JANE: I thought you might want to do your screaming now, rather than wait until you're back amongst our peers. I'll go tape down the windows. (Daria's face tightens, and for several moments, she doesn't speak as she forces herself to read every line of the article. Once finished, she tosses the paper to the ground.) DARIA: This is *crap*. The only things they got right were that there was an underground newspaper and its staffers got punished. They didn't even get the *reasons* we got punished right. No one took acid during meetings, or stole cars, or robbed people so they'd have an interesting story. JANE: Since when have silly things like accuracy mattered to the Lowdown? DARIA: Ms. Li punishes the underground staffers but lets this tripe pass? All because the Lowdown gives the school great P.R. with its feel-good articles? JANE: At least no one mentioned any names. Imagine how much worse it would be if people knew you were on staff. (cut to: ) SCENE 2 (Lawndale High, Thursday) (Daria and Jane walk to O'Neill's class. Here and there, students glance in Daria's direction, then quickly look away.) DARIA: Good thing no one knows. JANE: Maybe they're just thrilled to see an unpopular person back in her natural habitat. You worry too much. (They enter the classroom. The few students present and O'Neill glance at Daria, then look away.) DARIA: Come again? (She and Jane take their seats. Daria slouches self-consciously.) JANE: Hey look, everyone. Daria's back! Yay! (Daria glares at Jane, but her outburst seems to break the ice. O'Neill turns away from the blackboard timidly.) O'NEILL: It's... wonderful to see you again, Daria. (Kevin and Brittany edge closer.) BRITTANY: Wow, so you were out *there*, were you? DARIA: Yes, Brittany, there is a world outside of school. It's full of outlet stores... and malls. BRITTANY: That's really *great*, Daria! Isn't it *great*, Kevin? KEVIN: Um, yeah. Whatever you said, babe. (They shy back into their seats, as Daria and Jane look at each other.) JANE: Okay... make that you worry just enough. (Jodie enters the classroom, heads over to Daria and Jane.) JODIE: Hey Daria, I'm glad to see you back. DARIA: Well, that would make one person. JODIE: (lowers her voice) You read the article? DARIA: It seems quite a few of us did. I'd just like to know how they linked it to me. JODIE: Your suspension *did* coincide with the suspensions of a lot of the staffers. DARIA: How did you know I was suspended? JODIE: I didn't at first, but I figured it out. I always sort of knew that you wrote for the underground paper -- the way you would react when someone talked about what was written. DARIA: Okay, but you're at the top of the food chain. How did the average Lawndale High invertebrate figure it out? JANE: You remember how info spread about your parents' separation. All it takes is for one person who knows to -- DARIA: *Quinn*. JANE: Even so, they don't have proof. Just play it cool, and hopefully by next week, it'll be forgotten. JODIE: She's right -- just ignore them. I'll use my influence as school president to get the Lowdown to print a correction. KEVIN: Hey Daria? Is it true what that article said about you hijacking a car full of old chicks at gunpoint? BRITTANY: *Kevin*! KEVIN: Was that the thing I wasn't supposed to ask her, babe? DARIA: Kevin, you've learned to read. I'm so proud. KEVIN: Cool, huh? O'NEILL: Daria, *I* for one don't believe you would do anything unlawful. (uneasy expression.) But if you ever have any more *really* bad feelings, I just want you to know that I'm here to listen. DARIA: Look, the Lowdown editors never print anything accurate except by accident. The only reason they even printed the article was to get revenge on their rivals. It's nothing but lies! (Her voice rises almost to a shout, causing everyone in the classroom to wince, even Jane.) O'NEILL: Of *course* it is. (His forced reassurance just increases Daria's concern. She slumps down further in her seat.) (cut to: ) SCENE 2 (Phelps's classroom, Monday) (Quinn sits in much the same manner, her elbows on the desktop.) QUINN: I can't *believe* people are still talking about this! (She looks accusingly at the Three J's and several other classmates.) QUINN: That underground paper story was *so* yesterday. Get over it! JOEY: (timid) But Quinn, is it true that that girl at your house spent a weekend in jail? QUINN: No, you *creep*! JOEY: (cowers) I'm sorry! I'm sorry! JEFFY: *I* would never say your relative went to jail. JAMIE: Yeah, I wouldn't even say she was in a drug rehab center. (He catches Quinn's glare.) *What*? QUINN: She didn't *do* those things! Daria would *never* do those things! (crestfallen) She isn't like that. (The bell rings, and all students but Quinn stand to leave. The Three J's attempt to console her, but her rigid posture discourages it. They leave.) PHELPS: (from his desk) Ms. Morgendorffer, would you come here for a moment? (Slowly Quinn stands and walks over.) PHELPS: Were those lads bothering you? QUINN: Not really. I'm just so angry -- everyone thinks Daria did what that article said. It's all over school. PHELPS: Do you think she's guilty? QUINN: No! Mr. Phelps, Daria isn't like that. She's a little weird, but she's not a criminal! PHELPS: It's certainly doubtful that she did everything mentioned. QUINN: (eyes narrow) You don't know Daria like I do. The only buzz she gets is from reading some boring old book. PHELPS: Yet she has kept parts of her life from you. She still hasn't mentioned that she tried to take you out of my class, has she? QUINN: So what?! PHELPS: Just as she never told you that she wrote for the underground newspaper until after the fact. QUINN: What are you trying to tell me, Mr. Phelps? (Her teacher removes his glasses momentarily to rub his eyes.) PHELPS: I'm sorry to sound so negative, Quinn. I'm just trying to prepare you for any unpleasant surprises. QUINN: What "unpleasant surprises"? PHELPS: Anything that could cause you pain. I know that in spite of your differences, you hold your sister in very high regard. However, she's still human, and therefore capable of great errors in judgment. QUINN: Not Daria. PHELPS: Didn't you think the same thing about your parents? (Quinn's face puckers, remembering Jake's revelation.) PHELPS: You never thought they would separate and now your father is seeing someone else. (Quinn's eyes fill with tears.) QUINN: Why did you have to say that? PHELPS: My dear, I'm just trying to level with you. It's pained me to watch you get hurt time and again by your parents' decisions, and I don't want you to be blind-sided again. QUINN: Just stop, okay? Daria's different. She's *not* like them. MS. LI: (V.O.) Would *Daria* Morgendorffer report to my office immediately? (Quinn cringes at the sound of the intercom and lays her face in her hands.) (cut to: ) SCENE 4 (Ms. Li's office) (Daria sits across from Ms. Li's desk.) MS. LI: I *assume* you've read the article in the Lowdown. DARIA: (eyes narrow) Funny how you were so quick to punish the underground staffers for threatening the school's reputation, yet have done nothing about an article whose phony statements have made our lives a living hell. MS. LI: Now *you* know what it's like to be on the otherrr side. DARIA: Then I expect you'll be marching the Lowdown editors in for their sentencing. MS. LI: Ms. Morgendorffer, I didn't call you in to talk about meaningless notions like consistency and fair play. DARIA: Of course not. MS. LI: A member of our *business* community has read the article and is verrrrry upset. DARIA: At least someone recognized a lynching. MS. LI: Upset with *you*. DARIA: Because? MS. LI: The proprietor of *Lowman's* Sporting Goods has told me that he is the victim of *Erasmus's* liiibelous comments. DARIA: If by "libelous," he means harsh and true, he's probably right. MS. LI: So you *are* familiar with Lowman's. DARIA: I wrote a lot of articles about Lawndale businesses. I never mentioned anything but what I saw. (recalls) The only thing I misstated about Lowman's was that they still used sweatshop labor, but I corrected it in the next issue. MS. LI: Mr. Estrada mentioned no such correction. DARIA: Then he didn't see it. I can show you. (Ms. Li hands Daria a stack of underground newspapers, and Daria combs through them to the issue containing her Lowman's article. She then lays it aside and looks through the following issue. Her brow furrows. She looks through it again, then the next issue, then the next one, while Ms. Li grows more and more impatient.) DARIA: It has to be... MS. LI: Sometime *today*, Ms. Morgendorffer. (Finally Daria lays down the papers.) DARIA: (stunned) He didn't do it. Damien never printed the correction. MS. LI: So you *admit* that you printed a false, damaging statement about a reputable business? (Daria has no words. A look of anger, mixed with dread, grows on her face.) MS. LI: You *do* realize that Lowman's is the discount supplier of equipment for Llllllawndale High's glorious athletic department? (Daria nods.) MS. LI: (eyes narrow) Well not anymore. Mr. Estrada is so upset that a student here cost him money and prestige, he has *nullified* our contract. The football players now have to pay full price for their supplies along with the academics! DARIA: (quiet) Look, I'm a careful writer. I *don't* make up lies about people -- I just made a mistake. I'll tell Mr. Estrada I'm sorry, and I'll even write a letter to the Lawndale Sun-Herald explaining how I was wrong. MS. LI: I'm afraid it's far too late for that. (She whisks the papers away and stands up angrily.) MS. LI: After your suspension, I was going to let your association with those underground hooligans slide. "Erasmus" wasn't listed on any of the harmful articles, and your teachers were practically chewing off their arms with desperation to get you back. But *this* time, Darierrr, you've threatened our sports teams. *This* time... it's personal. (cut to: ) SCENE 5 (Lawndale High, late afternoon) (Daria is on her hands and knees beneath a desk, scraping off gum and surplus gunk into a bucket, trying to hold in her revulsion. Jane helps out alongside her, soaping down the top of a different desk.) JANE: She sure doesn't waste time, does she? How many afternoons do you have to do this again? DARIA: Just until the arthritis makes it too difficult to kneel down. (She scoots away from the desk and moves on to the one in front of it.) DARIA: What concerns me more is the psychological exam she wants me to take. That's one test that won't go over well with college admissions boards. JANE: You threaten her precious sports teams, so that means you're crazy?? (She tosses down her sponge angrily.) That is so messed up -- you're no crazier than I was when Sandi Griffin smeared me in the presidential race. (She stands and walks over to the desk in front of her so she's facing Daria.) JANE: Okay, you screwed up your article. It could happen to anybody. You *still* didn't deserve that suspension, and you didn't deserve all that hateful stuff they wrote about you and the other staffers. You've got to fight this, Daria. Forget waiting for it to blow over, 'cause it obviously won't. DARIA: Right. (She sits up stiffly.) Because I've been an unqualified success in the "standing up" department. Each time I've felt sure of something, I've been proven wrong. JANE: Come on, don't let Ms. Li shake your confidence. The Daria *I* know would think of a creative and mildly anarchic solution to her problem. DARIA: (fiercely) The Daria *you* know wouldn't forget to check up on her work. The Daria *you* know wouldn't have been stupid enough to take Damien at his word. The Daria *you* know wouldn't be plotting to bury him alive in a shallow grave as we speak. (Bt) On second thought, yes she would. JANE: Need to borrow my pick-axe? (Her quip fails to bring a smirk to Daria's face.) JANE: If there's any consolation, it looks as though people *did* read your writing for the underground. And took it seriously. DARIA: Oh joy. (Bt) The question is, how did the owner of Lowman's know that *I* was Erasmus? The Lowdown article never said, and I doubt Ms. Li would tell him. JANE: Maybe he didn't have to. He could have just complained and she took it from there. (Daria cocks an eyelid and keeps scraping.) JANE: So when will they officially unchain you? DARIA: After a teacher comes by to inspect. (She finishes her desk and sits up in the chair, just as Mr. Phelps sweeps into the room. When Daria sees him, her face darkens.) DARIA: Of course. PHELPS: Good afternoon, Ms. Morgendorffer. (He glances at Jane's sponge, cocks a brow with disapproval.) Since when is detention a shared experience, Ms. Lane? JANE: You thought I was cleaning? (laughs) I was just keeping the sponge company until Daria finished with the undersides. PHELPS: You may go home now, Ms. Lane. Ms. Morgendorffer, since you don't appear to be too worn out from cleaning the desks, you may clean the blackboards as well. (Daria regards him with limp anger. Jane stands up slowly.) JANE: I'd rather stay until my friend is finished. I can wait in the back. PHELPS: The longer you wait, the more blackboards she'll have to clean. (Jane frowns at him. After a moment's pause, she sends Daria a sympathetic look and walks quietly out the door. Phelps closes it behind her.) DARIA: How did *you* get detention duty? PHELPS: I'm usually here late, and since I no longer tutor your sister, I had to find some use for all that free time. (At the mention of Quinn, Daria feels her body tense.) DARIA: Shall I wash with the water filled with dirt, or the water filled with spit gobs? (Phelps reaches into his coat and pulls out a small packet of moist towelettes. Daria cannot suppress an "Are you kidding me?" look, but quickly sees that Phelps isn't joking. She takes the packet and walks up to the board.) PHELPS: There's plenty more where that came from. (Daria's eyes narrow and she positions herself so that she faces Phelps as she cleans. Remembering Helen's reveal, she feels slightly less hostile toward him, but memories of his threats keep her on edge. Phelps wipes a desktop surface with his finger, then frowns at what it picks up.) PHELPS: If I didn't know better, I would swear you've never had detention before. DARIA: Imagine that. PHELPS: What did an honors student like yourself do to merit punishment? DARIA: I rewired the school security system so that an alarm would go off whenever a teacher said "be quiet." It's already sent a dozen library patrons to the Cedars of Lawndale Mental Ward. PHELPS: That's just the sort of response I would expect from you... Erasmus. (Daria pauses for a beat, then keeps cleaning.) DARIA: Ms. Li told you. PHELPS: Yes, but I already knew. I'm surprised more people never made the connection. (Daria stares at him.) PHELPS: Don't look so shocked. I can do more than teach maths, you know. I've read every issue of the student newspapers since I arrived. Teenage writing has always intrigued me -- the thoughts that fill your minds. Although most of it is so dreadful, I keep it around just for a good laugh. (Daria turns to face the board, biting back a smirk.) PHELPS: Some students, though, gave the craft the respect it deserved. You were one of them. Your fluff pieces for the Lowdown were among the few that didn't make me gag, because you seemed to know they were fluff, and thus were always winking at your audience. DARIA: I just had a lash in my eye. PHELPS: The paper was less enjoyable after you left. Then one day, Erasmus's articles began appearing in the underground paper. I saw the same sharp phrases and pointed observations and, somehow, I knew they came from you. (Daria's cheeks flush, as she is unsure of whether to be flattered or wary. She quickly runs through her towelette package and receives another one.) PHELPS: I always felt that more people should read you. Dozens throughout the community were affected by what you wrote, yet they didn't know your paper existed. Mr. Estrada certainly didn't. (Daria pauses.) PHELPS: When the Sun-Herald quoted him in a business article two weeks ago, he said that he was "mystified" by the drop in Lowman's sales. One could claim that it was due to poor management... but why blame yourself when you could blame a young writer recently mentioned in the school paper? It *does* seem rather strange that Lowman's sales didn't go into steady decline until after your article appeared. (Daria lowers her arm slowly, her cheeks flaming.) PHELPS: You were undeniably harsh, especially in the paragraph about sweatshops. I'm sure it tweaked the consciences of a few yuppie parents. When someone pointed him to the article, Mr. Estrada must have felt very relieved to discover the lie. He could pin his misfortunes on that, rather than on all of the statements that were true. Or so I would imagine. DARIA: And did he happen to "discover" the lie all on his own? PHELPS: He might have had help from someone with a sharper eye. DARIA: (low, seething) You told him about the article. PHELPS: The truth came out. DARIA: So why bother to let me know? PHELPS: Because otherwise you might think you were the victim of random events. (He regards Daria with a calm expression as she stands rigidly.) PHELPS: You care about the truth, don't you? Is your truth less worth knowing than someone else's? DARIA: I didn't mean to lie. I made a mistake. PHELPS: Spoken like someone with a bright future in politics. DARIA: Except that I plan to correct it. (veers to face him.) If this was your way of keeping me from going to the authorities, you don't have to worry. My suspicions of you were unfounded. And since they were unfounded, I no longer care what you do, past or present. PHELPS: How noble of you -- but it's too late for backpedaling, Ms. Morgendorffer. You can't just poke around in people's lives, gleefully hold up damaging evidence, and expect to not pay a price. I'm afraid you're about to find out what it's like to *be* one of the people you've exposed. DARIA: (flat) So as payback, you get to watch my crucifixion. I questioned the mighty Mr. Phelps, and you have to grind me to a powder, so I'll never even think to do it again. PHELPS: (dark) If you knew what I were *really* capable of, you wouldn't take such a flippant tone. DARIA: What *are* you capable of? PHELPS: Press hard enough and you'll find out. (Daria's lips curl with disgust.) DARIA: What the hell does Quinn see in you? PHELPS: Simple -- she knows that I'm on her side, which is more than she could say for you. DARIA: Not "on her side"? I wouldn't even be here right now if not for her. PHELPS: You say that, but what do your suspicions say about your ability to trust her? You couldn't even leave her alone with her opinions. DARIA: At least I *let* her have her own opinions. Do *you* let her think anything without prior approval? PHELPS: She knows that *I* trust her -- it's with you that she doesn't feel secure. She seeks your approval and never receives it, asks to be treated like an equal and gets denied. When that happens, she comes to me. She respects my judgment as much as she does yours, only I'm not afraid to tell her that she's worth something, that she's special. DARIA: Which puts you in the company of every other male at Lawndale. PHELPS: Maybe some part of her realizes that even if you *do* care about her, you're a person of self-preservation first and foremost. At the most critical times, you'll choose your well-being over hers. DARIA: Is that why you said I reminded you of yourself? (cut to: ) SCENE 6 (Morgendorffer residence, evening) (Quinn stands at the kitchen counter, laying carrot sticks in a bowl, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. At the table, Helen sits across from Daria, whose general demeanor is somewhere between self-blame and rage. Helen looks none too happy herself, having just hung up the phone.) HELEN: Mr. Estrada won't negotiate. He's too caught up in his own martyrdom and refuses to see that a teenage girl couldn't *possibly* have done all of the damage to his business that he described. DARIA: So what happens now? HELEN: He... wait. (She groans and speed-dials the phone, then taps her finger impatiently until the line picks up.) HELEN: Jake, this is Helen. You said you wanted to be included in more family discussions? Well, here's your chance. (glares) And if certain *other* people happen to be listening in, they'd better have the decency to leave now, since this is absolutely *none* of their business and any claim otherwise would just be an abuse of their non-existent role in this family! (She hits the button for speakerphone and lays the phone back on its base, which has been moved to the center of the table.) JAKE: (O.S.) I-it's just me, Helen... and Monday Night Football. HELEN: Jake, turn *off* the T.V. and focus. I've put you on speakerphone, so you should be able to hear us. JAKE: (O.S.) You sound like you're a million miles away. (Helen groans and turns up the volume on the base.) HELEN: We have -- JAKE: (O.S.) *OW*! (Teeth clenched, Helen turns down the volume a notch.) HELEN: We have a situation with Daria. It seems that several months ago, she wrote an article criticizing one of the town's businesses, which included an inaccurate statement that the owner claims is libel. He says that Daria has done untold damage to his reputation and that he intends to sue. JAKE: (O.S.) That really stinks, kiddo! Why would you do something like that?! (Pause) Erm... where are you? DARIA: To your left. JAKE: (O.S.) *Oh*. HELEN: Jake, let's not fly off the handle -- I'm sure we can work this out. DARIA: (subdued) I'll go apologize to Mr. Estrada tomorrow. HELEN: That would be a good start. If we could at least get him to reinstate your school's discount, your principal might agree to forgo your detention and *God* knows whatever the hell else she has planned. DARIA: If he sued us, would he win? HELEN: Well, I seriously doubt he could prove that your one article was responsible for a steady decline in profits, given its low profile. DARIA: That's a relief. HELEN: *But*... (Her eyes narrow.) ... he still has a case. You *did* lie about his business, and if he can make a convincing argument that you caused some of his losses, we might still have to pay him a dollar amount. DARIA: Great. JAKE: (O.S.) *Dammit*, you couldn't throw if your arm were a catapult! HELEN: Jake?? JAKE: (O.S.) Huh? HELEN: (realizes) You're watching football, aren't you? JAKE: (O.S.) Wha-- I... no! That was just -- HELEN: Dammit Jake, I told you to turn that T.V. *off*, not mute it! JAKE: (O.S.) It's off now! See? *Off*! And I *was* listening, Helen! HELEN: Then you heard the part where I said we might have to pay money? JAKE: (O.S.) We... *hey*! DARIA: Boy, this really does feel like a typical family discussion. HELEN: I wouldn't be so flippant if I were you, Daria. How could you be so careless as to write an article criticizing someone's business without checking your work?? (Remembering Phelps's use of the word "flippant," Daria feels herself tense.) DARIA: I *did* check my work. HELEN: Well obviously not well enough. Daria, being a reporter isn't like writing one of your essays -- you can't just say whatever you want! DARIA: How would *you* know what my essays are like? When's the last time you've read one?? HELEN: I just meant that in the real world, what you say and *how* you say it matters a great deal. You and your underground friends might have thought you were having fun, but putting out a real publication, even a small one, is serious business! DARIA: When I was on the paper, it *was* serious business. HELEN: I know *you* wouldn't intentionally harm anyone, but the students you hung out with, the things they've done -- DARIA: (stiffens) So you believe the Lowdown article, too. HELEN: I don't have to. Article or no, it's clear that many of those kids had troubled backgrounds, which led *some* of them to write the articles that led to your suspensions. I thought that *you* were completely innocent of these charges, but the error in your Lowman's article -- DARIA: Showed that maybe, just maybe, I was sliding down a slippery slope greased by their depravity. HELEN: (glares) It makes you look bad, Daria. It makes it easier for people to claim that you're a reckless writer with little regard for others, who was deserving of her suspension and therefore of stricter punishment. DARIA: We'll just prove it isn't true. HELEN: We'll *try*, Daria. That doesn't mean they'll believe us. (slaps the table angrily.) I just don't understand *why* you had to hang around students like that! Drug addiction, juvenile hall -- you know better than to expose yourself to those kinds of influences! DARIA: Maybe because my parents were so wrapped up in their self-absorbed misery, I didn't want to be at home! (She stands abruptly, nearly causing her chair to tip backward.) DARIA: What happened to being on my side?? To believing in me even when factual evidence stated otherwise? HELEN: Daria, I'm not saying -- DARIA: That's right, you're not saying *or* doing anything to help me. Each time, it's been: "I can't, Daria... There's no evidence, Daria... It won't work, Daria... You shouldn't have done that, Daria." HELEN: Calm *down*, Daria. DARIA: What's the point of having you on my side if it's like being alone?! HELEN: I know you're angry and looking for someone to blame, but whether you like it or not, you've brought *some* of this on yourse-- DARIA: Everything you told me in that restaurant was crap. You don't care what I'm going through! HELEN: That's not -- DARIA: Just forget "helping" me anymore. You're *useless*! (Daria turns and storms out of the room, while a wide-eyed Quinn looks on.) JAKE: (O.S.) Dammit, Daria, don't talk to your mother that way! Dammit, come back here! Where *are* you...?! (Quinn watches her sister thunder up the stairs, then abandons her bowl of carrot sticks and runs after her. Meanwhile, Helen sits as before, her eyes locked in front of her, not seeing anything.) JAKE: (O.S.) Helen, we can't let her get away with that! (Pause) Helen? (Pause) Are you okay? (cut to: ) SCENE 7 (Daria's room) (Quinn reaches Daria's door just as it is being flung shut. Without thinking, Quinn holds up an arm to prevent the door from hitting her face.) QUINN: Owww! (The door falls open, and Quinn rubs her forearm, dreading the bruise that will appear. Daria turns to face her, surprised to have been followed, before rage reasserts itself.) DARIA: Get out. QUINN: Daria, wait. Please? (Daria sinks down on her bed, takes off her glasses, and lays her head in hand. Quinn takes her silence as a sign that it's all right to come in.) QUINN: (hesitant) I haven't seen you this mad since you and Mom had that I-love-you fight, which I didn't mind then because it distracted her from my earrings, but -- (Daria looks up at her with a dark "Hurry *up*" frown.) -- what happened downstairs was kind of scary. DARIA: Well then, I'm just a scary juvenile delinquent freak, aren't I? QUINN: Daria, I know you didn't do anything bad. DARIA: How *do* you know? I messed up that article, didn't I? I hung out with a bad crowd. QUINN: I... (Her brow furrows at Daria's words.) I don't care what Mom says. I think it's really mean of that guy to hold your article against you. You wrote it so long ago -- how does *he* know you hurt his store? DARIA: Yes, how would he know? Unless someone told him... like your teacher. QUINN: You mean Mr. Phelps? DARIA: Who else?? QUINN: Why are you so hung up on him? Mom proved he wasn't making me steal things -- why do you have to blame him for *everything*? DARIA: Because he told me so. QUINN: When?? DARIA: This afternoon, during detention. QUINN: He said that he turned you in to that Lowman's guy? DARIA: No, actually, he didn't *say* it. He just sneered it and insinuated it and threatened it, and basically said it without saying it. QUINN: If he didn't say it, how do you know that's what he meant? DARIA: Because I know! (She puts on her glasses and gazes at her sister, feeling a sudden need to make her see her point of view.) DARIA: He's getting his revenge on me for trying to take you out of his class. QUINN: So that did happen. DARIA: I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just wanted you to be in a class that would benefit you, and I felt like I had to act quickly. Maybe Phelps isn't making you steal, but he's still not a good person. (The sympathy fades from Quinn's expression.) QUINN: Daria, I don't know what kind of dummy you take me for. DARIA: I don't think you're dumb -- QUINN: Why *else* would you try to take me out of a class without telling me?? Unless you thought I couldn't make that decision on my own. DARIA: You would have transferred out of his class? QUINN: Of course not! (She winds her way around one of the book piles left over from Daria's earlier search and stands across from her.) QUINN: Mr. Phelps is my *friend*, Daria! He thinks I'm really worth something, and he wants to guide me to my potential before I graduate. DARIA: God, you sound just like him. QUINN: Whether you like it or not, he's gonna be in my life for a long time. We've got some really big plans we're working on. DARIA: What do you mean "really big plans"? (Quinn bites her lip, realizing that she has said too much.) DARIA: You're not supposed to be working on *anything* with him. You're supposed to be catching up in your other classes. You know, where you spend the other five hours of your day. QUINN: Don't be silly. I am... catching up in my other classes. DARIA: What is he making you do? QUINN: Don't look at me like that. DARIA: *Tell* me! (She regrets the anger in her voice almost instantly, as she sees a shadow fall over her sister's face.) QUINN: He isn't "making" me... God, he was right. I shouldn't have just assumed you would always do the right thing. You *are* jealous. Why else would you be acting this way? You're just gonna keep pretending that he's trying to hurt me until you can force us apart, aren't you? (Her face becomes pinched as she fights back tears.) QUINN: I thought you were finally ready to see me as a smart person, but I guess I was wrong. You don't respect me at all. Maybe you never will. DARIA: I don't respect *you*? Quinn, did you ever seriously think that maybe *I* could be right and that Mr. Phelps could be lying?? QUINN: He's not the one who lied in some article. (Daria's expression becomes pained.) DARIA: Of course. Why *should* you believe me? He's your teacher -- I'm just your sister. Sixteen years of sibling support can't compete. QUINN: Daria, I'm not saying you're a bad sister. Just that there's a *way* he sees me that you can't, and maybe I just have to accept it. DARIA: In other words, if I'm not kissing your butt and calling you "special," I'm not supportive. QUINN: You're not listening -- DARIA: No, I heard it pretty clearly. I refuse to feed into the Princess Quinn mindset. My support doesn't always come with a shiny gold star. QUINN: No, it comes with resentment and sneaking around and refusing to talk to me like I'm mature. DARIA: Because you've done much to make me believe it. QUINN: You see?! *This* is what I'm talking about! DARIA: You know what your problem is, Quinn? The reason why you don't see my actions with Phelps as supportive? It's because *you* would never do the same. QUINN: You're right, *I* respect a little thing called "privacy," which I would think you, of all people, would value. DARIA: No, I mean you would never go out of your way like that for me. (She turns her face away.) If you thought I was in trouble, you would never try to investigate. QUINN: I'm here *now*, aren't I?? And last spring when you were on the underground paper, I remember you were really angry all the time. I tried talking with you, but you shut me out. DARIA: And how did you respond? Did you keep pressing? Did you ask Mom or Dad what was the matter? Did you talk to Jane or my teachers? (Quinn's face takes on a vaguely embarrassed expression.) DARIA: No, you didn't. It didn't even occur to you, did it? You'll go the extra mile when our family is threatened, but if the problem doesn't affect you directly, you won't bother. Not when the problem is mine. QUINN: I *told* you I just didn't want to pry. DARIA: Which is a polite way of saying you didn't give a crap. (Quinn's face falls.) QUINN: I... (Her expression becomes distressed as she wonders if this could be true. Her lower lip trembles a little, then her eyes narrow.) QUINN: Like *you* thought I was even worth paying attention to before I got glasses and looked a brain! DARIA: Quinn -- QUINN: Just stay out of my life, Daria! (She turns and marches toward the door, knocking over one of Daria's book piles in the process. For a moment Quinn gazes down at the scattered books with remorse, then continues onward. Daria stands up and strides toward the door, watches her as she retreats to her room.) DARIA: *Fine*. Why should I bother to help you, when you won't listen to anything I say?! Next time you're in trouble, you're on your own! (She closes her door hard.) END OF ACT THREE ACT FOUR SCENE 1 (Lawndale High classroom, Tuesday afternoon) (Quinn approaches the desk of her History teacher, Mr. Nelson, with a pensive expression. She knows what he is going to say even before he faces her.) QUINN: You wanted to see me? NELSON: Yes, Quinn... (He opens his assignment book and lays it before her. Quinn stares at the grid, each row with a student's name beside it.) NELSON: I've blocked some of these out because you joined the class a few weeks in. Currently, you've been present through ten assignments. How many boxes do you see marked? QUINN: Um... three. But I can explain -- NELSON: From what I've seen in class, you don't seem to have trouble following along. The assignments you *have* turned in were fine, so am I right in assuming that you understand the material? (Quinn nods rapidly.) QUINN: Oh yeah, your lectures are *great*. They're never confusing. NELSON: I'm glad to hear it. So then there's something outside of school that's kept you from completing your work. QUINN: Yeah, my parents separated a couple months ago. Things have been really rough at home and I haven't been able to concentrate too well. NELSON: (nods) I remember speaking to your mother about that. I really do sympathize with what you're going through, which is why I've been lenient over the past several weeks. But with four weeks left of the trimester, I'm afraid your grace period has come to an end. I need you to complete the unfinished assignments and turn in future ones on time. QUINN: (reddens) Okay... NELSON: If you feel that home doesn't give you a comfortable environment, some of the other teachers and I hold study sessions a few times a week in the library after school. If nothing else, it'll get you in the homework spirit. QUINN: (nods) That sounds great. I'll be there. NELSON: You seem like a good student. I don't want to have to fail you. (Quinn stops nodding and her face turns ashen, as the word "fail" hits her full-on with its harsh ugliness.) (cut to: ) SCENE 2 (The Grove, Tuesday, late afternoon) (Quinn sits in a chair on the outdoor balcony level, gazing over the railing at a gentle stream that runs through the nearby woods.) PHELPS: Penny for your thoughts, Ms. Morgendorffer. QUINN: *Oh*. (She turns to face him across the table, where he is pouring the last of the tea into his cup. He looks at her with benign inquisitiveness.) QUINN: Sorry. I'm just thinking of how screwed up my stupid life is right now. PHELPS: Is this about your sister? (Quinn feels her eyes moisten, and wipes the edges quickly before tears can spill over.) QUINN: I still can't believe the way she acted. She was so angry, almost like she wasn't herself. Daria's been really mad before, but she's never *freaked* out like that. PHELPS: I'm so sorry you had such a shock, my dear. I'd feared it might occur, but had hoped I would be wrong. QUINN: Now, it's like, I wonder what else she hasn't told me? I still don't think she did drugs, but it makes me wonder if she really *is* as sure about everything as she seemed to be. PHELPS: As I told you, she is human. Predictably, regrettably human. You may love her and she may, in fact, love you, but she still puts her selfish and paranoid fantasies ahead of your well-being. I know about it all too well. QUINN: Did someone do that to you? (Phelps smiles sadly.) PHELPS: My partner. He and I had a misunderstanding not too long ago. He let some incidents in the past color his behavior toward me in the present. I still haven't quite got over it. QUINN: I'm sorry. PHELPS: I'm afraid all you can do is love her as your sister, but always remember that she'll never see you for the person you are. (Quinn exhales softly, the stream below blurring before her eyes.) PHELPS: Turning to other matters: I think you'll be very pleased with what I've done with your last project. QUINN: You showed it to that professor guy you know?? PHELPS: I just sent it to him. I've already told him all about you, and if he likes what he sees, he'll agree to look at all of your work. QUINN: He'd really be willing to wait two years to get me into Cambridge?? PHELPS: If he thinks you're worth it, as I do. In today's competitive environment, a student can use all of the ins that he or she can get. QUINN: Oh my God, in England I'd get to be with all those cute European men with really cool accents. I need to start shopping for a more sophisticated wardrobe. PHELPS: (amused) Now, now, don't get ahead of yourself. Cambridge is a very tough maths and science university, and if you get in, you might find yourself alone in a library for days on end. That's if you even want to attend. QUINN: Of *course* I'd want to attend! Mr. Phelps, the idea that I have a chance to get into an actual college, an *important* college is... I can't believe it. I'm so glad you never told me what that last assignment was for, or else I would have messed it up. PHELPS: Trust me: It was hard keeping it a secret from you. QUINN: This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. Thank you. PHELPS: You've more than earned it, Ms. Morgendorffer. QUINN: Can I tell my parents? PHELPS: I would wait until we're more certain -- wouldn't want them to accuse me of filling you with false hope. Also... (He takes a sip of tea.) you might want to produce few more samples, to *really* round out your portfolio. QUINN: Okay. (wrinkles her nose.) I'm sure I can find time to do them in between work for my other classes. PHELPS: Yes, your other classes -- wouldn't want to forget those and anger your mother. (arches a brow.) You know, Ms. Morgendorffer, we don't need to meet up regularly in order for you to do the extra samples. If you need this time to focus on your other course work, please feel free. (Quinn looks at him intently, her mouth curving into a smile.) QUINN: I *want* to be here, Mr. Phelps. (Phelps smiles his small smile in return.) PHELPS: All right, then. (cut to: ) SCENE 3 (Lawndale High, Wednesday) (Daria and Jane walk down the hall toward Mrs. Manson's office, Daria rigid and visibly angry.) JANE: You should start wearing one of those sombreros with a hidden camera. DARIA: That wouldn't be obvious. JANE: A tape recorder then. Something. Next time you're alone with that creep, you need *some* kind of evidence so he can't get away with the things he says. DARIA: He never *says* anything -- he just insinuates. Even if I made a recording, he could get off scott-free. JANE: You don't know that. Come on, you can't afford to be defeatist now. DARIA: Jane, he said that he turned me in to the Lowman's owner. Any objective person would view that as an act of good citizenship, not intimidation. What could I plead in my defense -- that I didn't want to be caught? JANE: He also said a bunch of other stuff you didn't like, or you wouldn't be having this reaction to him. DARIA: Let's just say that I don't exactly trust my judgment these days. (Jane gets a worried look on her face. Just then, a male student coming from the opposite direction runs into Daria -- hard. She nearly falls backwards, dropping the book she was carrying to the ground. The student and his friends continue on without pausing.) JANE: (glaring after them) Watch it, you jerkoff! (She kneels down to pick up Daria's book, while Daria shakes herself off, her face showing a lack of surprise. Jane hands the book to her.) JANE: Some idiots need to pay attention to the world around them. DARIA: There seem to be a lot of those today. And always around me. JANE: It's only happened a few times. You don't know -- DARIA: Jane, I appreciate your glass-half-full mentality, but if there's one thing I *do* know, it's that they're doing it on purpose. Either because they think I'm a nutty freak from the Lowdown article, or because they know what happened with Lowman's. JANE: Jodie said she got the Lowdown to print a correction. By the next issue -- DARIA: It will already be too late. (A group of football players marches toward Daria. Robert knocks the book out of Daria's hand.) ROBERT: We want a word with you... ma'am. PLAYERS: Yeah! DARIA: About? ROBERT: Coach told us that Lowman's dropped our sponsorship because of you. DARIA: (flat) And who told your coach? ROBERT: Now we don't have money to rent buses for away games. JANE: (flat) Just like all those starving children in Ethiopia. ROBERT: Believe me when I say this, ma'am, but we'll make you regret the day you ever *heard* of sports! DARIA: More so? JANE: Lay one hand on her and I'll tell the school that you were at Cashman's trying on the spring line of designer dresses. (Robert stares at her.) Sitting next to your ex-girlfriend in science has its perks. ROBERT: I... urg. (Spooked, he turns to flee, while the other players follow after him with curious expressions. Again, Jane leans down and picks up Daria's book.) JANE: Okay, there was nothing shifty about *their* threat. Let's round up a trusty authority figure and report what just happened. DARIA: (shrugs) Go ahead. JANE: Daria, I'm getting worried about you. You may not be the most proactive, but you know how to stick up for yourself when it counts. If you just give up and let people beat on you, your life will suck in ways that you never dreamed possible and you'd be letting that Phelps jerk win. (Daria frowns at the thought.) DARIA: Even if I did try to fight it, and I *were* right about Phelps... (She pauses in front of Mrs. Manson's door, her shoulders slumping.) DARIA: ...who would believe me now? (cut to: ) SCENE 4 (Mrs. Manson's office, after school) (Daria sits across from Mrs. Manson at the round table first seen in "Esteemsters." Mrs. Manson holds up an inkblot drawing.) MANSON: How does this make you feel? DARIA: What is it supposed to be? MANSON: It can be anything you want it to be. DARIA: Ah, one of *those* tests. MANSON: That's right -- you've had several psychological exams in the past. DARIA: I wouldn't call two "several," especially since one was required of all new students. MANSON: I'm just trying to get a fuller sense of your background. (She leans down to jot notes on a clipboard.) Now again, what does this image make you feel? DARIA: Eyestrain. MANSON: *Emotionally*. DARIA: Irritation at getting eyestrain from a pointless inkblot test. (Mrs. Manson sighs palpably.) MANSON: On a scale of one to ten, with one being zero and ten being high, where would you place your irritation level? DARIA: Twenty-five. (Mrs. Manson writes this down, then holds up a second inkblot drawing.) MANSON: Would you say this drawing makes you feel (peers down at her notes.) depressed, angry, or frightened? DARIA: Isn't that a leading question? MANSON: Not all of these questions are open-ended, Dara. DARIA: Then I'd say... bored out of my mind. MANSON: (tense) You're not being very helpful. DARIA: Only because I don't understand why I'm being put through this. I messed up an article that cost the school a discount and a few sponsorships. What does that have to do with my mental health? MANSON: Ms. Li merely wishes to establish whether you have a pattern of vengeance toward the school. DARIA: Then she should check the scribbles inside my locker that read "All work and no play gives Daria a lust for the kill." MANSON: Do you...? DARIA: (angry) That was a joke. MANSON: I see. (She jots down some notes.) DARIA: Why keep going? It's obvious you've already made up your mind about me. MANSON: Yes... well... Dara, your behavior at school *has* followed some disturbing patterns. Inattentiveness, sudden anger, lack of compassion for others. Some people have noticed lately that you're even more antisocial than usual. DARIA: "Some people"? *Which* people? MANSON: It doesn't matter -- DARIA: I deserve to know the reputations of those who would pass judgment against me. MANSON: Oh... well... some respectable teachers. DARIA: *Some*? Or just one? MANSON: I don't recall the actual number... DARIA: A math teacher? MANSON: I think that might have been one of them... (Daria inhales sharply, with both disbelief and lack of surprise.) MANSON: They worried about it being a prelude for things to come. DARIA: Then it's a good thing my name is Dar-ee-a, or I might have cause for concern. MANSON: Your parents' separation no doubt put strain on an already at-risk personality. Your time on that newspaper could be seen as a final tipping point. DARIA: You mean the paper I wrote for *before* my parents separated? (Mrs. Manson jots down notes.) DARIA: This is ridiculous. I would *not* commit violence against the school. MANSON: Few students would formally claim that they want to commit violence, especially to a school psychologist. Nonetheless, we have a new treatment plan for those that seem more likely than others. DARIA: (eyes widen) What *kind* of treatment plan? MANSON: One that gives them the intensive supervision that they need. Don't worry, dear... I'm sure you'll like it. (cut to: ) SCENE 5 (cafe on Degas Street, late afternoon) (Meanwhile, unaware of Daria's current dilemma, Jake and Helen share a booth.) JAKE: She shouldn't have called you useless, Helen! HELEN: (quiet) Why not, Jake? It's the truth, isn't it? After everything I've done, I can't think of a single thing that's helped Daria or Quinn. The one time Daria really needed my support, I just... piled on. I've let her down. JAKE: Don't say that! HELEN: Jake, whether you realize it or not, I haven't brought my A game for a very long time. I should be nailing that Stalinist Ms. Li to the wall for what she did. Instead, I keep making one misstep after another. I thought after our separation, all of my uncertainty was supposed to dissolve and I'd regain focus on my life and my career, but it hasn't happened. Maybe it never will. JAKE: I've never heard you talk like this. HELEN: Daria deserves a better advocate. JAKE: No, no, you can't lose confidence like that. You're a strong woman and a great mother! You're just trying to make do with a lousy situation. I bet lots of women would do much worse than you. (Helen cocks a brow.) JAKE: You're not like me -- *I'm* the useless one. HELEN: Oh Jake, don't say that. JAKE: I'm good for a gift, but I don't see them every night. When I do see them, I never know what to say. I thought I was getting better with talking to them about stuff, but I still never know what they're thinking. If only I hadn't wasted so much time... (His face grows melancholy, and Helen finds herself smiling with sympathy. She reaches across the table and pats his hand.) HELEN: Listen to me: Daria and Quinn love you. You will *always* be a part of their lives. I'll make sure of it. (Jake's expression grows faintly hopeful.) HELEN: Thank you for checking up on me. It was very sweet. JAKE: I just hate hearing you depressed. HELEN: What are we going to do with those girls of ours? Family therapy is obviously out of the question. So what, short of us reconciling, would ease their resentment? (Jake shakes his head and sighs.) HELEN: Sometimes I wonder if they could have been spared a lot of grief had the events leading to our separation gone differently. JAKE: You do? HELEN: We've said it before, Jake -- it happened so fast. Too fast. While the decision felt right to both of us, we gave the girls absolutely no time to prepare, ask questions, and accept our reasoning. (She bites her lip, her expression pained.) HELEN: For God's sake, I just ran off and left you three for most of the weekend! How could they *not* think the decision to separate just popped into my head during a nervous breakdown?! JAKE: You really think they believe that?? HELEN: Maybe not... but I sometimes do. *Not* that the idea was sudden or the result of my breakdown, but that we could have done more. Don't you feel that way? JAKE: (quiet) Yeah. (Helen cocks a wry, rueful brow.) HELEN: Well it's too late now. You can't change the past. JAKE: I think they're more worried about the future. HELEN: Join the club. JAKE: You don't know, either? HELEN: Why would I know what lies ahead any more than you? I'm trying to adjust to life as a single person, too, you know. JAKE: But what about all that sculpting stuff you wanted to do?? HELEN: It's not going the way I anticipated. Sometimes I wonder if I even have the artist's bug anymore. All of my best work was in Greg's classroom, and since I never brought it home, it probably found a nice resting spot in the incinerator. (Jake winces a little at her mention of Greg, before noting her sad expression.) JAKE: Yeah, well, I know what you think of me -- that I'm living the life of a bachelor stud, with my big-screen T.V. and my toilet lids up. But -- HELEN: I never thought you were a "stud." (quiet) Studs don't usually settle for just one other woman. JAKE: What I'm trying to say is that it's not easy for me, either, Helen. Living away from you doesn't feel like a big release. I mean it's good, but... a lot scarier than I thought it would be. HELEN: Do you ever think about moving back home? (Jake looks at her with surprise.) HELEN: I'm -- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just thrown that out at you. JAKE: *No*, I mean... I thought you wanted a divorce. HELEN: I was angry when I said that. I don't really... I don't know. JAKE: Yeah... (They gaze at each other solemnly for a moment.) JAKE: I think about coming home a lot. But... HELEN: Yes? JAKE: It -- I don't know, it doesn't feel like the right time. I feel like I'm just getting started, like there are *things* I need to learn before I'm ready to come back. Don't you feel that way? HELEN: Of course. (frowns) Although I don't have someone warming the bed for me when I get home. JAKE: Dammit, Helen. That's not what I was talking about at all! HELEN: Well why not, Jake?? Is your new relationship so shallow that you'd be willing to chuck it aside in order to come home, or do you have deeper feelings for that sweet, caring, opportunistic hussy? JAKE: See, *this* is why the girls don't want to meet her. They hear *you* talk and they get the idea that she's just some cheap tramp! HELEN: Can I help it if the girls don't like seeing their parents with people who *aren't* their parents?? And I certainly wasn't the one who started seeing her without the family's knowledge, leading everyone to -- JAKE: Don't try to pin the separation on me! I admit it, okay? I screwed up. *I* *screwed* *up*! But it wasn't just me, and you know it. If you hadn't kissed that Greg, you never would have avoided me, and I wouldn't have thought you'd stopped caring! HELEN: *Oh*, so the separation's all *my* fault, is it?! JAKE: You're the one who came up with that idea about us needing to grow! HELEN: If I recall, you *agreed* with that idea. Jake, you can't just claim something is good, then pretend you never felt that way when it goes sour! JAKE: Oh yeah?! Well there were lots of reasons we split up, but it wasn't all my fault, and don't you dare say it was! (He lapses into silence, and he and Helen gaze at each other tensely. They suddenly become aware that the cafe is very quiet, and turn to see several patrons staring in their direction. After gazing back with sheepish, apologetic expressions, they turn to look at one another again, this time reflective.) HELEN: Let's be honest, Jake: We're not living apart just because of my kiss or your girlfriend, or to achieve a vague definition of personal growth, are we? (Jake exhales softly, then shakes his head.) (cut to: ) SCENE 6 (parking lot, shortly after) (Jake and Helen walk each other to their cars.) JAKE: You'll keep me up-to-date on what's happening with Daria? HELEN: Of course. (Her brow creases.) Although as strange as this sounds, in some ways I'm more worried about Quinn. JAKE: Quinn?? What's wrong with her?? HELEN: Well, she's not in any trouble yet, but she's still far behind in most of her classes, and I'm not convinced that she's doing what she needs to in order to catch up. I made her write out a To Do list, and she shows me what she's completed every night, but earlier today, I got a call from one of her teachers saying that she's only received *one* make-up assignment. I need to have a serious talk with Quinn, but this mess with Daria -- JAKE: Don't worry: Between the two of us, we'll get her whipped back into shape. When she comes over on Friday, I'll have her eating, sleeping, and *peeing* homework. HELEN: (smiles) Thank you, Jake... I think. She says she's been focusing on *all* of her classes, but... JAKE: You think she's lying? (Helen pauses, then nods.) HELEN: I wonder about her relationship with that Mr. Phelps, her math teacher. While it's true there's no concrete evidence to suggest wrongdoing, I have to confess that I'm starting to share Daria's concerns about him. There's *something* that makes me uncomfortable that I can't put my finger on. JAKE: Oh, he's gay. HELEN: (glares) Not *that*. I mean it seems like he has trouble showing basic empathy for other people. JAKE: He *scares* me! HELEN: I worry about what someone like that could do to Quinn. Daria may be more socially awkward, but I think Quinn is more fragile... (cut to: ) SCENE 6 (Phelps's kitchen, evening) (Phelps comes in, looking through a couple of colored fliers. Drying his hands at the sink, Marshall peers over in his direction.) MARSHALL: What are those? PHELPS: Just adverts for an event that a student of mine would like. MARSHALL: Quinn? (Phelps flinches a little, as he always does when her name is said aloud, as if Marshall were unveiling an important secret.) PHELPS: Yes. MARSHALL: You've been spending more and more time with this girl. PHELPS: Jealous, are we? MARSHALL: Not at all. Assuming this doesn't mean you've switched sides. (For a moment, Phelps's expression becomes vividly angry.) PHELPS: Don't even joke about such things, Marshall. My relationship with Quinn has *never* been physical. It is much, much deeper than that. MARSHALL: In what way? PHELPS: I wouldn't call her my "daughter," per se, but I do feel as though she's a part of me. I can feel her thoughts... her loneliness. (His face grows reflective.) PHELPS: All her life, she's tried to fit into a world where she doesn't quite belong. She's managed to fool enough people into believing she's happy, but has never been satisfied. MARSHALL: She told you this? PHELPS: (nods) Now that she knows she can trust me, she's completely open about her feelings. We think so much alike, we're so in tune with each other's thoughts, our relationship is deeper than blood. (Marshall tries to fight back his concern, but does not quite succeed.) PHELPS: You should have seen her face when we started working in higher mathematics -- as if someone had given her a cure for a fatal disease. I was the first person to know what she was really looking for. (He sees Marshall's expression.) You think I'm exaggerating, don't you? MARSHALL: You've felt this sort of affection for students before. PHELPS: This is different. I've never felt so... fulfilled with another student, so excited about his or her prospects. I see a very bright future ahead of her. One where she'll be a renowned mathematician who still meets with her old teacher now and then to discuss her latest discoveries. MARSHALL: Is that the future she wants? PHELPS: It's the future that I think would suit her. MARSHALL: All well and good, Alfred, but be careful not to assume too much about this girl. How well do you really know her? PHELPS: Well enough that I feel closer to her than to anyone else. MARSHALL: Including me? (There is a beat of silence, before Phelps places the fliers in his pocket and looks at his partner with a piercing, rueful expression.) PHELPS: When was the last time *we* were close, Marshall? (Marshall's mouth opens with surprise, his eyes growing pained and somewhat indignant. Even so, he cannot deny the truth behind his partner's words, one that he has resisted until now.) (cut to: ) SCENE 7 (sidewalk, Friday, late afternoon/early evening) (Jane walks home with Daria, who looks as though she has trouble walking on her own. She clutches a large envelope.) DARIA: She wants me to transfer out of my classes into a special "day group" for disturbed students. JANE: It's a wonder she didn't just expel you. DARIA: That's probably her next step. (She feels sick to her stomach.) This can't be happening, can it? I fell asleep after eating the Good Time Chinese kung pao "surprise" and am having a nightmare. JANE: Any minute now, lime jello Gumbies will rain down from the sky. At least if this is my dream and not yours. (Daria's shoulders slump under the weight of her reality. Jane looks at her with sympathy.) DARIA: Maybe Ms. Li just wants me to leave on my own, to avoid the legal trouble of kicking me out. Right now, that doesn't sound too bad. ANDREA: (O.S.) It won't solve anything. (Daria and Jane freeze at the sound of her voice and glance around for the source. Andrea appears as if out of thin air, dressed in her usual Gothic attire.) JANE: Donnie and Marie's love child is back! DARIA: Tracking us from the shadows in her true Gothic identity. ANDREA: My *only* identity. I'm never wearing that crap again. DARIA: Where have you been?? ANDREA: It doesn't matter. I'm leaving. DARIA: Lawndale High? ANDREA: This town. I dropped out of school last week. DARIA: What?? (Her stomach tightens.) Because of the new program? (Andrea nods.) JANE: Was it that bad? ANDREA: It was worse. DARIA: How? (Andrea remains silent for a long moment, so long that Daria and Jane aren't sure if she'll ever speak.) ANDREA: The teachers we had weren't the usual teachers. Li hired them from some "tough love" boot camp school. They're not interested if you learn. They don't even think you'll get past high school. All they want is to turn you into a quivering pile of pus. (Daria cringes at her choice of words.) DARIA: You're not exaggerating, are you? ANDREA: All day, I felt like I was being dissected. Every move I made was a sign that I was about to do something worse. There were fifteen of us from the four grades and no curriculum that covered us all. Not that they taught anything, anyway -- they preferred to humiliate. You remember Danny? DARIA: The Danny whose articles put the underground staffers in hot water? ANDREA: By the time I started, he'd already cracked. He would sit at his desk shaking, and he'd only been there a week. It turned out that the teachers liked to call him to the front and make him piss in a cup for random urine checks, call him "stupid" and "ugly," give him strength tests they knew Danny would fail. I heard that Danny first tried to smartass his way out of it, but they just kept him up there, piling it on, 'til it was too much. JANE: No one did anything to stop it? ANDREA: It was like we were cut off. We had our own wing, which none of the usual teachers or Li ever came to visit. It's a wonder Li even knows what's going on... or cares. (Andrea shrugs a shoulder.) By the time they tried that on me, I knew I'd had enough. DARIA: Couldn't you transfer to another high school? ANDREA: If you transfer, your record comes with you. I'd have just wound up in a program that was as bad, but in a different way. (A rare scowl mars her face.) I know I'm not a teacher's pet. I have big problems -- but the worst thing I ever did to that school was leave it alone. I wanted to give the new program a chance, play by the school's rules, but once I knew for sure that I was saner than *they* were, it was time to bail. JANE: So what now? ANDREA: I'm getting my GED and moving to Baltimore. A cousin of mine has an apartment there and he can get me a job. Not like I have much choice -- my parents kicked me out. (She says this in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she's already made peace with the situation, while Daria tries to swallow down her dread.) DARIA: I guess this is good-bye, then. (Andrea shrugs a shoulder in agreement.) ANDREA: Never thought I would get to know someone who was accepted by the mainstream crowd. (She glances down at Daria's envelope with a vague look of regret.) Or that this would happen to you. (Daria looks her in the eye, with as much courage as she can muster.) DARIA: I'll fight this. For both of us. (Andrea looks back with appreciation and skepticism, then characteristically departs without another word. Daria watches after her, feeling the loss of someone in her life who wasn't a friend, yet was more than an acquaintance. Her courage starts to slip away.) (cut to: ) SCENE 8 (Morgendorffer residence, soon after) (Daria enters and is met immediately by a red-faced, angry Helen. She holds out the envelope limply for her mother to take.) HELEN: *Don't* bother showing me, Daria, I already know. The school phoned me. (Daria heads toward the couches, bracing herself for the inevitable torrent of her mother's disappointment.) HELEN: I've never been so outraged in my life! They want to move you to a classroom filled with emotionally troubled students?! Compress your seven class periods into four and give you round-the-clock surveillance?! And they want permission to *medicate* you if you act out?! (Daria sinks down on the center couch and stares at the floor.) HELEN: The very idea that you require special scrutiny is *ridiculous*! DARIA: What? HELEN: They're not going to get away with this. You won't spend a single minute in this "intensive" program even if I have to rip you out of school and educate you myself! (Daria looks at Helen, her expression filled with hope.) DARIA: You don't agree with them? HELEN: Oh Daria, you may be many things -- stubborn, outspoken, and sometimes narrow-minded -- but you *aren't* mentally or emotionally unstable. Did you actually think I would take their side?? DARIA: I didn't know what to think. You seemed so angry about the Lowman's article, I thought you might have lost faith in me. HELEN: Honey, that could never happen. (renewed outrage.) Court-established precedent, my hide. I don't care if the laws *have* given schools huge amounts of authority -- this is a clear-cut case of overreach! One that I don't think will withstand scrutiny. If your principal tries to put you in that program, I'll slap a lawsuit on her so fast, her heart will explode! DARIA: Or something she'd actually miss. (She feels the corners of her mouth turning upward as Helen opens her briefcase on the kitchen counter and takes out a day planner filled with contacts. Remembering their heated exchange over the Lowman's article, Daria stands up and walks over to the counter.) DARIA: Mom? About what I said a few days ago -- I was wrong. You *have* been supportive. I was just so angry that you weren't doing things the way I wanted *when* I wanted, I ignored all of the work you *were* doing. (Helen turns to face her daughter, surprised.) HELEN: Daria, all I've wanted is the best possible outcome for you. Sometimes that meant only taking the most solid evidence you had, because I've seen too many cases where the plaintiff winds up with nothing but shattered credibility. I love you too much to let that happen. I know I can't be everything you need, but believe me, I *am* trying. DARIA: And you didn't deserve to have me blow up at you. I'm sorry. HELEN: Oh honey, you don't... (Her eyes soften.) Thank you. (They gaze at each other silently for a moment. Helen then returns to her briefcase.) HELEN: Still, it's time to step it up a notch or two. Let's see how much we can do before your sister comes home and you leave for your father's. DARIA: Quinn isn't home yet? HELEN: No. I left a message on her cell phone telling her to get back from wherever the hell she's been before your dad starts to wonder where you are. All I can say is that she'd *better* be at the library... (cut to: ) SCENE 9 (Morgendorffer residence, night) (At almost nine o' clock, Quinn slips in the door and, like Daria, comes instantly face to face with her mother.) HELEN: Where were you?! QUINN: The library. HELEN: The library closes at six on Fridays, Quinn. Try again. QUINN: *Okay*, I was shopping with Stacy at the mall and I lost track of time! HELEN: Then it must have been a different Stacy who phoned an hour ago, asking for your father's number so she could reach you. QUINN: If this is about me missing a night at Dad's, I totally intend to call him and arrange to sleep over a different... Dad? (Over Helen's shoulder, Quinn sees Jake sitting on the center couch, next to Daria, his expression sober.) QUINN: What are you... doing here? HELEN: Quinn, honey, sit down. (Quinn winces slightly at her mother's quiet, serious tone. A cold feeling creeps over her, as she looks from her mother to her father, then at Daria, who seems bleaker than usual. Slowly, she makes her way over to the left-hand couch and sits.) QUINN: (quiet) What's going on? HELEN: We have something very important to discuss. (Quinn swallows and feels her heart hammering in her chest.) QUINN: Okay. (Helen looks at Jake, who looks back. He then clears his throat.) JAKE: Quinn, your mother and I want you to know that we love you very much. HELEN: Yes, honey, always remember that first and foremost. JAKE: But there's gotta be some *changes* in the way we do things as a family. HELEN: We can't continue to function this way. (Quinn puts her face in her hands. Helen lays a hand on her shoulder, which causes her to flinch.) HELEN: Quinn, we've been giving you far too much freedom. QUINN: Huh? HELEN: I got another call from one of your teachers today, saying that you're not turning in your assignments. Your father was going to have a talk with you on his own, but when it became clear that you weren't coming over, we decided to discuss it together. JAKE: Tell her about what you found -- HELEN: I was *getting* to that, Jake. Quinn, when I went into your room to see if you'd left a note, I found some more sheets of statistics homework on your desk. QUINN: You went through my things?? HELEN: We've talked about this -- no more extra math assignments until you're caught up in your other classes! I thought I could trust you to take the proper initiative, but obviously I was wrong. From now on, we'll *both* be supervising your study time. JAKE: That means lockdown, young lady. No dates, no trips to the mall -- HELEN: You'll come straight home after school and only leave to go back again the next day or to your father's. JAKE: We're keeping your nose to the grindstone until you're all caught up. That's why they call it "tough" love... not "cute fluffy bunny" love! QUINN: That's it?! HELEN: What else did you think we would say?? QUINN: That you were getting a *divorce*! (She springs up off of the couch and looks at both of her parents, shaking.) QUINN: The way you were both waiting here and the looks on your faces and Daria sitting there and "changes in the way we function"...?! (Helen and Jake look at each other, their expressions growing remorseful.) QUINN: This is just some stupid intermission on my behalf?! (She starts to leave, but Helen lays an arm in front of her path.) HELEN: This isn't an *intervention*, Quinn. It's a discussion, and it isn't over. You *still* haven't told us where you were. QUINN: On a date. HELEN: Since when do your dates end so early and since when do neither of us meet the boy ahead of time?? QUINN: *Fine*, I hitched a ride with a total stranger to Las Vegas where I got drunk and had sex and wore *really* cheap support hose until it was time to go home! Now if you'll *excuse* me, it's past my bedtime -- HELEN: You have one more chance before you lose your car privileges. (Quinn closes her mouth and looks at her mother with disbelief. Then, in a fit of rage, she pushes past her and heads toward the stairs. Jake stands up, strides after her, and takes her by the arm.) QUINN: Hey! JAKE: Your mother asked you a question. QUINN: I was with Mr. Phelps, all right?! He took me to a lecture on that Adam Smith and his theory about markets where you can get stuff for free, bought me dinner, and took me home. JAKE: You didn't even think to ask us ahead of time?? QUINN: Because I knew you'd say no! HELEN: And you lied about it after we caught you. Quinn, were there any other students with you on this after-school fieldtrip? QUINN: I was by myself. I was *fine*. JAKE: Is this the first time you've gone off with him? QUINN: We've just gone out to a cafe a few times. It was no big deal. HELEN: The "big deal" is that we don't like you spending time alone with an adult without our knowledge. Especially -- QUINN: You just don't like Mr. Phelps! (She looks accusingly at Daria.) Because *someone* told you he was making me cheat and steal, when you know that wasn't true! HELEN: *No*, because he knew full well that you needed to get caught up with your other work and *still* chose to monopolize your time! I think it's high time we had another talk with him. QUINN: But --! HELEN: In the meantime, I'll leave your sister in charge of the car keys. If I find out you've taken them or made a copy, you'll lose your phone privileges, too. QUINN: *Daria*?? But she's the one who got our family sued -- why does *she* get the car?! HELEN: Because *she* isn't driving off to God-knows-where after school! JAKE: Helen, hold on a minute. I think we need to take it down a notch and see things from Quinn's point of view. HELEN: "See things from"... *oh*, fine... (Annoyed, she crosses her arms.) JAKE: Quinn, I was like you once. I remember the thrill of freshly sharpened pencil and an arithmetic problem before lunch. Then it was fractions... long division... rounding to the nearest decimal. (face darkens.) But soon that wasn't good enough. I had to have more. HELEN: Jake? JAKE: I was doing word problems, then geometric theorems, sometimes forty a day! My slide rule became my crutch... and sometimes my imaginary best friend when the other cadets made fun of me, but that's another story. The point is that even though I told myself I could handle it, my obsession continued to grow. I had to have more problems, *bigger* problems, *harder* problems, until one day the commandant found me doing push-ups to the base-two system! QUINN: What does that --? JAKE: You have to *stop* this madness now, while you can, Quinn! (He grabs her by the shoulders and starts to shake her.) JAKE: Before you turn into a bitter middle-aged man with no coping skills, who never took the time to smell the roses on his way to the big corporate straightjacket in the sky! QUINN: Da-AAAAD!!! HELEN: Jake, let her go! (Jake does so, sobering up.) QUINN: I can't *believe* you guys! (She runs away from Jake and heads for the stairs.) QUINN: All this time, I wanted you to pay attention to me and Daria, and when you do, it's to take away the *one* person who's always been there for me! HELEN: Oh *please*, Quinn, "the one person"?? You can't honestly tell us that your Mr. Phelps cares more about you than your dad and I! QUINN: I know he cares about me more than he does about his stupid dead father. (She glares at Jake, who reddens, then at Helen.) QUINN: Or his stupid job! HELEN: Well I'm sorry, honey, if you really think that's true. That we would put *ourselves* -- QUINN: If you really "cared" so much, you wouldn't have lied about why you went up to Aunt Amy's that weekend! You would have *told* us that you were thinking of leaving Dad! (Her eyes fill with tears.) QUINN: If Dad really cared, he would have told that awful woman he's seeing to go away, because we're more important! (Helen's own eyes grow bright and Jake's face becomes solemn. Quinn lets out a sob and stumbles up a few stairs.) QUINN: I'm sick of it! I'm sick of being told that I have to accept that you guys are selfish *jerks* and that's why my life is so terrible! I'm sick of you lying to us! HELEN: (quiet) Quinn, please... QUINN: Just stop pretending like you care what I'm feeling, because you don't! Stop acting like you're a freaking *team*, like everything's back to how it was before, and JUST GET A DIVORCE!!! (She lets out another sob, then runs the rest of the way up the stairs. Jake and Helen stare after her for a few silent moments. Jake then starts after her, but Helen restrains him gently by the arm.) HELEN: Not now, when she's all worked up. JAKE: Why do our kids always run up stairs when we try to talk to them?? DARIA: Because the bricks outside are too slippery to scale. (Jake and Helen swerve to face her, having forgotten her presence. Her expression tells them that she knows all too well what Quinn is feeling.) HELEN: Let's *all* of us settle down. I have Mr. Phelps's number -- hopefully he'll be home soon... (cut to: ) SCENE 9 (Morgendorffer kitchen, later) (Helen and Jake sit at the table, holding the phone between them.) PHELPS: (O.S.) I don't understand the fuss. Your daughter spent the evening learning. Would you have rather she'd spent it in the company of some hormonal teenaged boy? JAKE: He's got a point, Hel-- (Helen nudges him to be quiet.) HELEN: The "fuss", Mr. Phelps, is that you broke your word not to have Quinn do *any* more extracurricular math assignments! PHELPS: (O.S.) This wasn't an assignment, this was entertain-- HELEN: Whatever it was, she wasn't supposed to go without the permission of at least *one* of her parents! PHELPS: (O.S.) I assure you, I thought -- HELEN: Well you were mistaken. Quinn has far too much to do, and while we appreciate the interest you've taken in her education, we're going to have to ask that from now on, you step aside and let *us* take over. PHELPS: (O.S.) Are you sure you're capable -- HELEN: Actually, we *demand* that you step aside, since it's clear that asking you politely has no effect at all. PHELPS: (O.S.) "Politely"?! How would you even *know* -- HELEN: If we find out that Quinn is still doing extra work for you, we'll -- PHELPS: (O.S.) You'll what? (Helen frowns at the way his words slice a neat pathway through her own.) HELEN: We'll... we'll have to take action. If that means transferring her into a different math class, so be it. PHELPS: (O.S.) Do you really think that would stop her from seeing me? (There is a quiet chill in his voice, one that seeps through the phone and settles over the room, cooling Helen's internal rage and causing her to struggle to find the right words.) HELEN: It would stop *you* from seeing her. PHELPS: (O.S.) Do you think I drag her off kicking and screaming to spend time with me? We both know better than that, Mrs. Morgendorffer. I might have done so in the beginning, but in the long run, your daughter does what she wants. HELEN: Then, as the adult, you should have the presence of mind to establish boundaries between you two. PHELPS: (O.S.) I can't be her teacher, but you expect me to be her parent? Why should I be the one to instill discipline that she should have received long ago? HELEN: I just meant stop giving her assignments that you wouldn't give the other students. PHELPS: (O.S.) I have stopped. Anything she does now is by her own accord. HELEN: You're obviously doing *something* to make her think this would benefit her, or she would never -- PHELPS: (O.S.) Never do work for a subject that she loves? You give Quinn such little credit -- no wonder she drank in my teachings like someone dying of thirst in the desert. How could I possibly abandon her now? (Helen's cheeks redden, and Jake twists his hands uncomfortably. On the other end, Phelps sits in his office chair, a smile lurking beneath his still expression.) HELEN: If you can't respect our wishes, we'll just have to report you to a higher authority. PHELPS: With what argument? "My daughter has a teacher who is interested in her learning"? "He takes her to economic lectures and does all of the things I would do myself if not for those dreaded business dinners and ball games on the telly." How would you convince anyone of the downside? HELEN: *Don't* underestimate me, Mr. Phelps. If I have to, I can hold you and the school accountable for negligence. PHELPS: That's right, you're a lawyer. Well if you must, so be it. I know a few lawyers from notable firms. JAKE: So do *we*, pal! (looks at Helen.) Um, I mean, I'm married to one! PHELPS: Mr. Morgendorffer, is that you? I never expected to hear your voice -- I thought you and your wife had separated. HELEN: That's none of your business. PHELPS: Except that according to Quinn, it was your separation and *not* my extra assignments that spurred her academic decline. Wasn't it? (Helen and Jake glance at each other with guilty expressions.) PHELPS: With all of your marital stress, I can understand the temptation to lash out at the blameless. Still, it *is* frustrating when people expect everyone else to solve the problems they created. HELEN: Are you this belligerent in person?? PHELPS: Why don't I schedule a parent-teacher conference so you can find out? That is, if I can expect you and not your secretary. HELEN: You can expect to lose. JAKE: You tell 'im! (Phelps lets out a dry, amused chuckle.) PHELPS: Not a bad rejoinder, Mrs. Morgendorffer. Though really, the person you need to talk to is your daughter. If you asked Quinn to stop, would she think enough of you to obey? (After a beat, he hangs up the phone, then lays it on its cradle with a quiet, triumphant air. Outside his closed office door, Marshall stands nearby, having overheard parts of the conversation. A look of concern grips his face.) (In the Morgendorffer kitchen, Helen lays the phone on the table and she and Jake sit silently for one moment, drained. Daria walks over to them.) DARIA: So. You've heard the tone. HELEN: You mean his insufferable arrogance? How dare he act like we don't have any relevance in our daughter's life! JAKE: Yeah! Just because she ran upstairs calling us selfish liars doesn't mean she wouldn't listen to us when it mattered! DARIA: He's trying to get to you. He used that same tone when he threatened me on Monday. (Helen and Jake look at her, their eyes growing wide.) JAKE: He threatened you?! HELEN: What did he say? DARIA: He was the one who tipped off Mr. Estrada about the Lowman's article, to teach me a lesson about snooping in his life. He said that if I kept pressing, I would find out what *else* he was capable of. HELEN: Oh Daria, *why* didn't you say something before?? DARIA: I thought that since he mostly insinuated, you would tell me that we didn't have a case against him. Plus, I wasn't exactly in a state of mind to trust that I wasn't imagining the whole thing. (Jake leaps up.) JAKE: That smug BASTARD! (He grabs the phone.) He likes *threats*, does he?! Well I'll call him and threaten to put his face through a window! HELEN: Jake, *no*! Don't give him anything he could use against us. We need to plot a course of action. JAKE: First we'll march down to the school and make him apologize to Daria! Then we'll take Quinn out of his class! HELEN: Absolutely -- we'll arrange for a transfer right away. JANE: Then we'll pay someone to follow Quinn to each of her classes and report back to us if it looks like she's been talking to him. Kiddo, you don't do much between periods, don't you? (Daria gives him a dubious look.) JAKE: Then we'll arrange it so that one of us is always there to pick up Quinn right after school! (He looks at Helen, his expression growing doubtful.) I'm, um, sure one of us will always have some free time at three o' clock. HELEN: I have a different idea: hire a private detective. JAKE: (taken off guard) You mean someone to look through his garbage and take pictures of him showering?? HELEN: My firm is in touch with a couple of detective agencies -- they have resources we lack. If there's anything that man is hiding, they'd find it. JAKE: Okay. Let's do it! HELEN: Who *knows* what else that Mr. Phelps has planned for Daria or Quinn -- or if it even stops with *our* girls?? (She turns to Daria.) HELEN: Daria, I expect at some point you'll need to go on record stating exactly what he told you. DARIA: Okay. HELEN: And if we could contact that man you spoke to -- DARIA: I tried. He denies he said anything. HELEN: Oh. (A worried look flickers across her face.) Well, if there's anyone you know, anyone at all, who might have witnessed more unprofessional behavior -- JAKE: Tony DeMartino doesn't like him. (Helen freezes momentarily, as does Daria, at the sound of his name.) HELEN: Yes. Ask him. Maybe he has documentation of Mr. Phelps's conduct. JAKE: Quinn will forgive us in the long run, right? She'll know it's just because we love her? (Helen gives him a slightly strained smile, hoping that that will be true.) END OF ACT FOUR ACT FIVE SCENE 1 (Lane residence, Sunday afternoon) (Jane sits at her computer desk, with Daria looking over her shoulder.) JANE: Voila! Check this out. (She types a URL into her browser and presses Enter. A black and white surreal image of a woman being strangled appears.) DARIA: You're finally giving me a peek into your kinky sex life? JANE: This image is just a placeholder until I can get the real page set up. And it's all *yours*. DARIA: I see. To remind me not to leave home without my broad sword. JANE: She's being silenced. One could say you two have a lot in common. When this is done, you'll have your first line of counter-attack against the scumbags at school who are trying to bring you down. DARIA: You're making a web journal? JANE: You've written for newspapers -- why not finally have one of your own? I know it doesn't have the reach of a regular paper and won't automatically clear you of any charges, but -- DARIA: Jane? Thank you. (Jane freezes at her genuinely grateful tone, then reddens with embarrassment.) JANE: Hell, you did the same for me when I was in trouble. DARIA: Seriously, you've done nothing but stick by me since the weekend my parents split up, even when "colossal jerk" would have flatteringly described my behavior. Without you, I'd have given up a long time ago. JANE: *Stop* -- you're making it really hard for me to demand some painful favor >from you in the future. DARIA: Then I've achieved my goal. JANE: (smirks) Keep it up, and I might not help you find contributors. (Daria gazes at the space thoughtfully, imagining what she will write to fill it.) DARIA: I am *not* going to drop out of school. I've worked too hard for too long and suffered through far too much stupidity to just cave in during my final year. I'll make Ms. Li and Mrs. Manson wish they'd never even thought of "intensive supervision" -- for *any* of us. JANE: Now *that's* the Daria I know and love. (Bt) In a purely platonic sense. DARIA: Did I mention I've already talked to the police about Phelps? JANE: And soon he'll be doing ten to twenty in a rock island prison?? DARIA: No. As my mother suspected, his threats were too vague to merit a restraining order or even a police report... but at least I got some more information on what was needed for either. Now my mother's looking up private detectives. JANE: What did Quinn say? DARIA: She doesn't know. My parents were afraid that if she heard about the private detective, she would tip off Phelps. JANE: She's *that* devoted to him, huh? DARIA: Which is why I've also started looking for more info on him. Anyone so hell-bent on keeping me quiet has more than his past to worry about. (Her brow furrows with discomfort.) DARIA: Quinn might not want my help and I might not feel she deserves it, but I'm giving it anyway. Hopefully before it's too late. (cut to: ) SCENE 2 (Lawndale High, several days later) (Jane stands beside Quinn as she examines her complexion in her locker mirror.) QUINN: I never said I "hated" Daria. JANE: Then why won't you help? It would be fun *and* something you could list on your college applications. Hell, even your friend Sandi's helping out. (Quinn looks at Jane with shock.) QUINN: Sandi's working with *you*? JANE: You'd be amazed at what guilt can do. (smirks with satisfaction.) Plus, she seemed genuinely interested. She'll be writing an article about the step-by-step process of a smear campaign and how it fools people. (Quinn lowers her eyes.) QUINN: Good for her. (Jane waits for her to say more, then gets a look of frustration.) JANE: (quiet) Come on, Quinn. You don't really think Daria is crazy, do you? QUINN: (eyes widen) No. Of course not. JANE: I realize you've got a lot of catching up to do, but couldn't you make a little time for your sister? QUINN: It's not that I don't have time, it's... my feelings toward her are kind of complicated right now. JANE: Complicated how? QUINN: (scowls) Like you wouldn't just take her side. JANE: How can I take sides if I don't know?? QUINN: I don't know *what* Daria's thinking these days. I keep telling myself she doesn't want to hurt me and wants me to be happy, but it's getting harder and harder to believe that's true. (Jane gives her a long look.) JANE: Say it's not true. Say she *does* want to hurt you. Does that give you a blank check to stop caring about her? QUINN: I... no. JANE: So how 'bout it? QUINN: I'm not gonna work for your stupid web thing just to prove that I care! JANE: Okay, fine. I'll leave it to your wisdom to figure out how to support her. Just remember that she's done a lot of nice things for you. (Jane leaves. Although Quinn gazes after her with resentment, it is clear that Jane's words have left an impression.) (cut to: ) SCENE 3 (Jake's apartment, Monday evening) (Daria sits on the couch, staring at several photocopied articles from newspaper archives, including some that she has already had in her possession. They are all laid out on the coffee table before her and she is trying to see how they all fit together. She concentrates so hard that when the doorbell rings, she practically falls off the couch.) (Daria gathers up the articles and lays them in a folder, then heads over to the door. She opens it to reveal Mr. DeMartino, straining under the weight of two large boxes. He staggers in and plops them down heavily on the dining room table. When he sees Daria, he gives a visible start.) DEMARTINO: DARIA. Didn't think YOU would be here. DARIA: Normally I'm not, but I knew you'd be coming. DEMARTINO: Where's your FATHER? DARIA: Out buying toilet paper rolls. He ran out of ten-year old magazines to use as back up. (Sweat dots DeMartino's brow.) DARIA: What did you bring? (DeMartino's discomfort gives way to gleeful satisfaction.) DEMARTINO: When your FATHER told me about your problem with PHELPS, I went through my closets looking for every BIT of information I had on the school and the TEACHERS. (Daria opens one box and sees yearbooks, newspapers, photos, school function leaflets, receipts, award ceremony programs, and more scrambled together inside.) DARIA: Is any of this potentially incriminating? DEMARTINO: Like all HISTORY, Daria, it's a matter of being able to READ the clues in the proper CONTEXT. DARIA: Then I suspect we have a long night ahead. (She reaches in to remove a yearbook, thumbs through it.) DEMARTINO: THAT one has a picture of him looking SHIFTY-EYED toward some of the students. DARIA: You mean this one where he's choking on a cup of coffee at the multicultural fair? DEMARTINO: Erm... yeah. (His eye bulges.) Did I mention he pushed in front of me in the faculty PHOTO? (Daria sighs quietly. DeMartino shrugs and takes out several books and photos, which he spreads out and arranges to show the areas of evidence.) DEMARTINO: Daria, while we're HERE, I thought I should say -- DARIA: Forget it. DEMARTINO: But -- DARIA: We have an objective to reach, and I'd like it to be before my fiftieth birthday. (DeMartino's eye bulges, and, frowning, he removes more objects from the box.) DEMARTINO: (blurts) I knew your father was SEEING someone and that it could get serious and I WARNED him to be careful but I didn't think it was my place to tell YOU or your sister. (Daria gazes up at him with a vacant expression.) DARIA: Okay, then. DEMARTINO: Just had to get that off my CHEST. Feel free to keep HATING me if you're so inclined. It's what I'D probably do. DARIA: I don't hate you -- I just feel betrayed. You were one of the teachers I almost trusted, and every day I was in class, you knew what happening, but didn't act as if anything was amiss. You just went about your business and continued to have testosterone-fueled fun with my father. Even now, you're still buddies, like nothing ever happened, like it wasn't *your* suggestion that he start teaching in the first place. DEMARTINO: Actually, I don't pal AROUND with your father much anymore. Things have been too AWKWARD since he moved out of your house. This is the first time I've been BY here. DARIA: (surprised) Really? DEMARTINO: Believe ME, Daria, I would never treat what happened with inDIFference. Best student or NOT, I think too HIGHLY of you for that. I wish I could go back and do things DIFferently. (Daria looks down at the evidence he has gathered, her cheeks coloring. The idea that DeMartino has been quietly ruing his minor role in the separation gives her a sense of comfort. She feels her animosity toward him start to fade, and raises her head to look at him directly.) DARIA: Mr. Nelson is a good history teacher, but his class doesn't have nearly as many entertaining diversions. (DeMartino grunts with resigned amusement as he lifts a zipped bag holding a tape recorder, last seen in "An Uneasy Marriage," out of the box.) DEMARTINO: Without your daily infusion of inTELLigence to keep me sane, I am THAT much closer to destroying a certain FOOTBALL player. DARIA: It's good to feel needed. (She notices the bag.) What's that? DEMARTINO: Oh. (His expression grows disappointed.) It's what COULD have been my finest hour. I almost caught Phelps on TAPE trying to get Ms. Li to fund math at the EXPENSE of the humanities. DARIA: So what happened? DEMARTINO: The SOUND is too distorted. I can hear PHELPS, but his words are muffled. DARIA: Could I listen? (DeMartino gives the bag to Daria, who removes the tape recorder and presses Play. The small tape plays, and Daria hears two muffled voices. She frowns.) DEMARTINO: I don't see the POINT, frankly. If only -- DARIA: Wait. (She rewinds the tape, listens again.) I *know* this voice. DEMARTINO: It's PHELPS. DARIA: No... I mean the person he's talking to. (She listens again. One muffled voice on the tape belongs to Marshall Winsett.) DEMARTINO: Oh yeah, I think that's his BOYFRIEND. (shudders) At least I HOPE so. God FORBID he was his brother. DARIA: His *boyfriend*?! (cut to: ) SCENE 4 (Fielding Prep, Tuesday afternoon) (Marshall sits at his desk, reading a proposal. When he looks up, he finds Daria standing across from him, her arms folded.) DARIA: Why didn't you tell me you were Mr. Phelps's boyfriend? MARSHALL: (pales) I don't... know what you... DARIA: Don't try to deny it. It's obvious you have a relationship with him that is more than professional. MARSHALL: I don't -- (Daria holds up Mr. DeMartino's tape recorder with the tape. She hands it to Marshall, who plays the conversation between himself and Phelps. He slumps back in his seat.) DARIA: If you should "happen" to break it, I've made plenty of copies. (Marshall turns off the tape recorder and lays it on the desk. He stands up.) MARSHALL: Very well, you've learned the truth. What do you plan to do? Blackmail me? DARIA: That's "Alfie"'s style, not mine. I just want answers. You learned about his money-taking through a source other than rumors, didn't you? MARSHALL: I don't know what you're talking about. (He ushers Daria toward the door. Just as they've reached it, Tom appears to block the way out. He folds his arms.) TOM: She's talking about keeping criminal behavior a secret from the parents and students at Fielding -- even though it could affect them directly. MARSHALL: Mr. Sloane? TOM: Do you care so much about your boyfriend that you would ignore your responsibility to every person at this school? MARSHALL: I don't... this is... (He desperately tries to control the flow of events.) I think this silly conversation needs to end. TOM: "Silly"?! DARIA: Mr. Winsett, I told you that the real danger wasn't what he did in the past, but what he could be doing in the present. Right now, he's using my sister. I'm just praying it's not for something illegal, but I have no proof. I do, however, have an article about a new security system employed by banks that forces hackers to be more clever. They have to solve word puzzles, or *number* puzzles to get access. MARSHALL: That doesn't mean -- DARIA: I also found an article from 1988 on Mr. Phelps's old firm, Carlton and Associates. The executives were found guilty of insider trading and the CEO was sent to prison for ten years. Did Phelps have anything to do with that? (Marshall gazes down at the floor, his brow creasing with thought.) DARIA: (softer) Would you have told me about Mr. Phelps, even under the guise of rumors, if you weren't concerned about him? (Marshall doesn't respond for a moment. He returns to his desk and opens the tape recorder, lets the tape fall softly onto his desk, then returns the empty recorder to Daria.) MARSHALL: Do either of you have any more blank tapes, or any other recording devices? TOM & DARIA: No. MARSHALL: Promise? (They nod. Marshall dabs his forehead and gazes out into the hall to see if anyone is nearby.) MARSHALL: Let's go someplace where we won't be overheard. (cut to: ) SCENE 5 (Fielding, bleachers overlooking the lake) (Marshall, Tom, and Daria sit at the top, watching the rowing crew fan the water with their ores below. All around them is a wide expanse of green, with the Gothic school buildings lurking in the background.) MARSHALL: (rueful) My relationship with Alfred Phelps isn't a total secret. Anyone who knew where to look would see that we shared the same address. It's just that no one, beyond my secretary and maybe one or two other staffers, thought to make the connection. TOM: I don't understand why you had to hide it. We already knew Mr. Phelps was gay, and students thought all of the teachers were paired up anyway. MARSHALL: Harmless student gossip about teachers' secret rendezvous is one thing, Mr. Sloane. A real-live homosexual relationship between a teacher and an administrator is something else. (Tom frowns, realizing he has a point.) MARSHALL: (sarcastic) Fielding Prep is perfectly willing to accept gay teachers and administrators... as long as they don't do anything to show or suggest that they're gay. DARIA: Much like the modern Republican Party. MARSHALL: I should have objected, but I've always felt a loyalty to Fielding, which has educated generations of Winsetts, as well as duty to my family. The Winsetts have a proud history in this country dating back to the Mayflower, and a strong Calvinist strain runs through us to this day. I grew up learning to never speak out of turn. It's turned me into something of a coward. (His expression grows wistful.) MARSHALL: Not Alfred -- I mean, Mr. Phelps. I know from your perspective that he can seem insufferable, but you have to understand that his iron-headedness is a product of his upbringing. He had no family support growing up and was always stigmatized for being a "dandy". During his years at Cambridge, he became addicted to alcohol, like his father. All those forces combined could have sent him into the gutter, but fortunately Mr. Phelps had the presence of mind to see what was happening. He sobered up and learned to deal with the world by shutting it out. DARIA: Is this the part where I'm supposed to feel sorry for him because he's had such a miserable life? MARSHALL: No, I'm just trying to give you context. I'm sorry for what he did to you, threatening you like that. Unfortunately, that is the dark side of his formative years. I didn't know that, however, when we met several years later, at what could be loosely referred to as a "gay economists" club. Mr. Phelps had come to the U.S. to pursue his business career, believing that England pre- Thatcher was not a place for his ambitions. I found him to be the most oddly charming man I'd ever met. He made me feel very wanted, at a time when the AIDS virus was first making headlines and I was resentful of my homosexual inclinations. (Daria thinks about Quinn's description of Phelps's attention toward her and feels a shiver down her back.) MARSHALL: Soon he and I settled down together. I headed my family's amalgam of charities while Mr. Phelps worked for Carlton and Associates. He seemed very content there and was well respected. DARIA: Until he got caught doing insider training. (Marshall pauses.) MARSHALL: Actually, no. (Daria and Tom look at him with expectation.) MARSHALL: Mr. Phelps knew what was happening, but wanted no part of it. He felt it was a stain on a good company and a slap in the face of free-market values. When investigators came poking around, he agreed to be a whistle-blower. DARIA: He helped them?? TOM: Was it really a selfless act, or was he just trying to get off scott-free for his own part in the crime? (Marshall's face clouds with thought.) MARSHALL: He'd always said it was because he couldn't stand seeing such blatant disregard for the law. I had no reason to disbelieve him. His testimony was one of the keys to putting Carlton's CEO behind bars. (Daria reflects upon this, considering whether Phelps's act of bravery could have been completely selfless.) MARSHALL: Unfortunately, I don't think Mr. Phelps realized the full implications of his actions. Although his name wasn't used in the published accounts, word of what he'd done somehow got around to the other investment firms, and he found himself frozen out, unable to obtain another executive position. TOM: What happened then? MARSHALL: He started his own firm, which stayed afloat for a couple of years before the recession hit and he found himself out of business. By then, I'd given up my position in the family network of charities to accept one with Fielding. It was a nice bit of independence, or so I thought. (He takes out a handkerchief and dabbles his forehead wearily.) MARSHALL: Meanwhile, Mr. Phelps remained unable to find employment in finance, at least not at the level he had once enjoyed. He was sinking quickly into despair, when I suggested that he obtain a teaching credential to keep himself active until the economy improved. I recall that he sort of sneered at the idea, but went ahead with it anyway, for lack of better options. Shortly after he'd finished, one of our math teachers retired, opening up a position. I persuaded the Fielding board to give Mr. Phelps a chance. DARIA: And the rest is history. MARSHALL: (frowns) No, not quite. I don't want Alfred Phelps to be typecast as some sort of villain when he's not. When he first started teaching, he was shocked at how quickly he took to it. He grew to enjoy the day-to-day challenges of pressing knowledge into the heads of students who don't necessarily want to receive it. A career move that was supposed to be temporary stretched across several years. DARIA: I'm sorry, but I can't reconcile the Phelps I know with the selfless, honorable person that you describe. How did he get from being a happy teacher to a possible crook? MARSHALL: (weary) As pleased as Mr. Phelps was with his new calling, he has always had a side that was proud, angry, and resentful. From childhood to adulthood, he'd grown up with people who had more than he did. Only during his time as an executive did he prosper, and that was taken from him forever, all because he'd done the right thing. TOM: I don't understand -- people *loved* Mr. Phelps. I'm sure if he'd asked, half a dozen firms, including Grace, Sloane, and Page, would have offered him a position on the spot. MARSHALL: Alfred was aware of that... however, I think he felt as though his time in investment had passed. He could no longer play the role of a rising young executive, and he believed that any position offered to him by a Fielding parent would have been little more than charity. (His brow creases.) Still, as the economy improved, I'm quite sure he watched with envy as all of those wealthy firms grew wealthier from dot-com money. What dues had *those* executives paid? They could double their earnings overnight. DARIA: And finally he couldn't take it anymore. (Marshall looks at her carefully.) MARSHALL: Yes. At least, so I gathered. He became more secretive and spent long nights in his private office or at the school. Whenever there was a funding discrepancy at Fielding, he always seemed to be involved somehow, though no one could ever prove he was responsible or even thought it likely. DARIA: If he was so mysterious, I can't imagine someone didn't get suspicious. The way he came down on me was so instantaneous, it's as if he'd had someone sifting around in his affairs before and this time wanted to be prepared. MARSHALL: (nods) Yes, someone had. Me. DARIA: What was the first to tip you off? MARSHALL: Everything that I mentioned above. Since I deal quite a bit with budgets, I was in a position to know more about them than most people. Maybe someone else was suspicious, too, but I was in a greater position to note what was happening. I would see him with certain students in his classroom, and sometimes those students would come over for dinner and later head into his office. At first I thought that Mr. Phelps was just very dedicated, since several of these students were classified as "problem students" -- many quite gifted, but very difficult to teach. Soon it became apparent that something else was happening. (He pauses. Daria and Tom wait for him to go on, but Marshall is reluctant.) DARIA: What? MARSHALL: I feel as though I'm betraying him. DARIA: That's because you are. (Marshall looks at her with wide eyes. Then he cocks a resigned brow.) MARSHALL: I overheard conversations between him and his students in his office late into the night, about "cracking this" and a "fraction" of that. After several of these snippets, I got the sense that they were talking about bank accounts and, when Alfred wasn't present, I did some snooping around his office. There, I found balance sheets hidden away for accounts I'd never known about, in Switzerland. I gathered the evidence I could, and when I had the chance, confronted Alfred. He denied any wrongdoing at first, but after I refused to let him off the hook, he finally broke down and confessed. Some of his students had created a program for him that took small bits of money from people who had too much and moved it to several Swiss accounts. TOM: What happened to these students? MARSHALL: As far as I know, they graduated and moved on to good universities. DARIA: You never followed up with them? MARSHALL: I... no, I didn't. DARIA: What makes you so sure, then? (Marshall grows noticeably paler.) TOM: So no one was punished? MARSHALL: As I've told you, I was likely the only one who knew. After Alfred confessed, I told him to stop immediately, or I would report him to the Fielding board of trustees and leave him forever. It was the first time I'd ever seen him look truly frightened. He promised to stop, said that he'd never felt right about it in the first place, and promised to get help. Later, he showed me some balance sheets that revealed his accounts had been cleared, the money returned to its rightful owners, and that settled it. I felt no need to go to the board. TOM: (terse) How can you be so sure that money really *was* returned? (Marshall flinches, and looks sorrowful.) MARSHALL: (soft) I trusted him. DARIA: And I'm sure he was all too willing to go to the Fielding board and confess on his own. MARSHALL: He had a very fatalistic air about the whole thing, but yes... he never did offer to turn himself in. I think his days of sacrifice are long past. DARIA: That's when he came to Lawndale High? MARSHALL: It wasn't quite that soon. He stayed on at Fielding for the rest of the year, before deciding that he was tired of trying to educate "apathetic trust-fund children bound for the Ivy Leagues on board their family legacy." Or maybe he just didn't want to be reminded of what he'd done... and what had compelled him in that direction. DARIA: Except now he might be starting it again. MARSHALL: I don't know for a fact. If I did, I certainly wouldn't keep it >from anyone... not this time. For a while, Alfred seemed content enough, in spite of his occasional grousing about the limitations of the public school system. He would mention the names of students that he liked, and one name seemed to pop up more often than the others. DARIA: (quiet) Quinn. (Marshall gazes at her for a moment, then nods.) MARSHALL: I'll admit, from the way he described her, she's not his usual type. Alfred doesn't normally take an interest in the popular, well-liked students. He prides himself on being able to spot the diamond in the rough, nurturing the social outcast's talents and revealing them to the world. I think he identified with their tendency toward isolation. TOM: Then you'd think he'd have preferred Daria. DARIA: (glares) Except I was never *in* his class. MARSHALL: Yes... rather interesting, given that teachers can request to have students that they like. It could be, Daria, from how you described your actions, that he might identify with you *too* well. You might remind him of the cynical, yet hopeful and ambitious, man he used to be before Carlton's collapse, which could have been too much for him to handle on a day-to-day basis. DARIA: Am I the only student he's tried to ruin? MARSHALL: That I know of. But... (His face darkens.) ... there were others... coworkers of his who took credit for his work at the firm... a shop worker who was always rude to him... the building manager who said he had no use for "our" kind. Mr. Phelps got even with all of them in the same way: cutting them off the moment they seemed like a real threat, before they did too much damage. It was effective, but his focus on obvious threats could also leave him vulnerable to the less-obvious ones. At the time, I thought him harsh, but his anger seemed justified, so I... DARIA: You dismissed it. (Marshall smiles sadly.) MARSHALL: As for your sister, it wasn't just her talent that attracted him -- it was her need. For several months I viewed Alfred's interest in her as that of an attentive teacher. Having told him that I trusted him, I wasn't going to jump to rash conclusions. (His expression darkens.) But then the secrecy began again, the unexplained disappearances, the attempts to conceal calls on his office phone. I told myself it was nothing... at least I tried. Then I received your e-mail. (Silence hovers over them as they watch the rowers tether their boats.) DARIA: Knowing what you know, are you really just going to sit back and wait for him to do it all over again?? MARSHALL: I told him that I would give him the benefit of the doubt. DARIA: You're not serious. TOM: If you choose to do nothing, I'll tell my parents what happened and they can go to the board themselves. Even if you aren't found guilty, it can still cause you quite a bit of trouble. Are you willing to take that risk? MARSHALL: I am, Mr. Sloane. But... (sighs quietly.) that won't be necessary. Don't you think I've already taken that into account? I've been distressed by these patterns of Alfred's for some time, and I need to act before he *really* does something he regrets. (He turns to Daria, looks her in the eye.) MARSHALL: I will get to the bottom of this. I'll see whether he's committing illegal acts and if any of them involve a teenage accomplice. DARIA: Good. (Marshall appears weighed down by his decision.) MARSHALL: (whisper) Such a shame. In many ways, he's such a wonderful man. His affection for his students isn't false and it isn't forced. He really *does* care about them. It's just, as with most things he allows into his heart, he takes it one step too far, convinced that he is the only one who knows what they need, and that the rest of the world is working against them... and him. DARIA: Then do me a favor. Give me whatever information you can on Phelps's accomplices so I can find out their motives myself. You owe it to me *and* to them. MARSHALL: Yes. All right. (He stands abruptly and begins to make his way down the bleachers. Daria and Tom follow. Marshall looks at Daria, his expression growing stern.) MARSHALL: But be discreet. Alfred traced our first conversation back to me -- I can't afford to have him do it again. Until I've given you the word, don't tell anyone what I've told you. DARIA: Not even my sister? (Beat) MARSHALL: Tell her to be careful. (cut to: ) SCENE 6 (Li's office, next day) (Daria stands before Ms. Li, who has summoned her.) MS. LI: Ms. Morgendorferrrr, yesterday's unexplained absence from school did nothing to redeem your credibility. Why should I believe *you* when the psychological exam clearly states that you need intensive supervision? DARIA: Because you know I'm not crazy. MS. LI: Don't I?? How many young women wear combat boots *without* trousers? DARIA: The kind that intend to use them. Oops -- there goes my Tourette Syndrome again. MS. LI: Your special program may be temporarily postponed due to the threatened lawsuit by your mother, but let me assure you that it *will* move forward. DARIA: Do you even *know* what goes on in those classes? MS. LI: Students receive the correction they so *desperately* need before going on to be productive citizens. Even someone who shuns allll social activity should find no fault with *that*. DARIA: Then you really don't know what goes on there. Whereas I do -- and as soon as the students' testimonials get onto my website, so will a lot of other people. MS. LI: As if anyone would trust a word you print. DARIA: You know there's nothing wrong with me. Why have you been so bent on getting me out of the way? MS. LI: *Cut* the martyr crap. It's *you* who obviously have it in for me! DARIA: Excuse me? MS. LI: We had an understanding, Darierrr. I brushed aside your misanthropy and weak attempts at rebellion, while your excellent grades brought up the school's G.P.A. But after you admitted your role on the underground newspaper and confessed to harming poooor Mr. Estrada, I realized that you're not the student I thought you were. And in my mind, your under-the-radar persona has made you more of a threat than students who act out openly. DARIA: I'm not a different person because I made a mistake. Ms. LI: I take pride in my school, Ms. Morgendorffer. It's the *only* thing I take pride in. *No* one sneaks around for months at a time, chipping away at my -- I mean *its* -- reputation and gets away with it. DARIA: So are you upset that some students lied, or are you *more* upset that some reported the unvarnished truth? Ms. LI: Anyone who could get *pleasure* from such character assassination can only have a sadistic temperament. DARIA: As opposed to wanting to make it a better place? (Ms. Li's eyes narrow.) DARIA: I'm sorry that some students wrote nasty, false articles. I'm sorry about my screw-up. I'll agree that they merit punishment -- but not a taxpayer- subsidized torture chamber on school grounds. MS. LI: (snorts) Aren't we being a bit hyperbolic? DARIA: I'm *not* sorry for all those times I told the truth. Maybe if you opened your eyes for once, you'd see that the enemies to your school aren't the people you think. MS. LI: Go ahead and *try* to fight your way out of this one, but I think you *and* your mother will find that my actions are legally sound. (Daria looks at her and sees a cold hardness that she's never seen before. She realizes that this will be much harder than she'd hoped.) (cut to: ) SCENE 7 (hallway, shortly after) (Daria walks down the hall, which has just filled with students on their way to class. Her pace is slow and she remains focused on what's ahead.) QUINN: (O.S.) Daria? (Daria turns to find her sister just appearing from around the corner, a vaguely pleased, but also anxious, look on her face. Quinn sprints over to meet her.) QUINN: What's wrong? DARIA: I just had a run-in with Ms. Li, who affirmed beyond a doubt that she'll fight any lawsuit we bring against her. Not that I expected anything different. (Quinn gets a distressed look on her face.) DARIA: You're actually walking with me in a public hallway? No scornful comments? No excuses to keep a healthy distance from your "cousin"? QUINN: Daria, look... I know I haven't been real nice to you lately. I don't want you to think I'm some selfish jerk who doesn't care what happens to you. DARIA: That's a relief. I was afraid you'd been infected with the same virus that's plaguing the rest of the school. QUINN: I told you before, I don't want us fight. I want to help you with whatever you're going through. DARIA: Maybe we should talk somewhere. I don't mean now -- we can wait until we're home. There are some things I need to get off my chest. QUINN: Why don't you just tell me now? You look like it's really important. DARIA: Okay... I'll try and say them in a way that won't freak you out. But first let's go... (Her voice trails off as she sees the person she dreads most slip out of his classroom, briefcase in hand, a short distance away. When Quinn sees him, to Daria's horror, she smiles and motions at him to come join them.) PHELPS: You needed me, Ms. Morgendorffer? DARIA: Quinn?? QUINN: It's okay, Daria. I know you and Mr. Phelps haven't always gotten along, but he's really good at this mental crisis stuff. PHELPS: You don't need to puff up my reputation. I'll just try to do the best I can with what you've told me. (Daria feels a chill shoot up her spine.) DARIA: (to Quinn) You told him stuff about me? *Again*?! (Quinn bites her lower lip.) QUINN: I was worried. DARIA: You're not even supposed to be talking to him. PHELPS: Now Daria, I understand the desire to keep troubled feelings to yourself. But from counseling students like you through similar experiences, I've learned that it's best to face them straight on. DARIA: Very good. For a moment there, I was almost convinced. QUINN: Daria! PHELPS: We don't have to talk here. Why don't you, your sister, and I make time to meet someplace more private? Or if you're embarrassed to have your sister present -- DARIA: Good idea -- get me alone so you can make *more* threats against me. QUINN: Daria, *stop* it. Come on! DARIA: Ask him whether he told the Lowman's owner that I wrote the article. Let *him* tell you that he didn't. (Quinn looks at Phelps half-questioningly, half-apologetically.) PHELPS: Actually, she's telling the truth. I *did* tell Mr. Estrada about the Lowman's article, that it seemed to rely upon questionable facts. However, at the time, I had no idea your sister was the writer -- it was Mr. Estrada who made the connection. DARIA: (to Quinn) He's lying. PHELPS: I'm sorry about all the pain this has caused, but perhaps you will come away better for it. Now you can finally come to terms with the anger that caused you to write such a piece. DARIA: You really think you could counsel *me* on coming to terms with anger? (She freezes up inwardly, remembering Marshall's request, and hopes Phelps doesn't make any connections from her comment. She watches him raise a suspicious eyebrow at her, then turn to Quinn with a concerned expression.) PHELPS: It looks like this isn't going to be easy. QUINN: Thanks for helping out. (Daria feels the blood rising in her cheeks.) DARIA: Quinn, he's lying. He told me himself, during my detention, that it was punishment for when I tried to take you out of his class. PHELPS: (tired) Good heavens... DARIA: If you're such a friend to the students, what happened to all of the other students you reached out to? Where are they now? PHELPS: I presume that most of them are at university. DARIA: Why not let Quinn meet them? Let her see the end result of all her hard work. PHELPS: It's a stressful time of year for them. They wouldn't want to be bothered. DARIA: Why not, if they value you so much? Contact them and arrange for a get together -- unless there's some reason you can't. (Phelps's eyes harden as he looks at Daria.) DARIA: There is, isn't there? (Quinn's eyes widen, and she looks at Phelps for clarification. Daria's heart pounds, as she dares to hope that she has the upper hand.) PHELPS: That's a rather extreme conclusion. DARIA: Then prove me wrong. Show Quinn what happened to your other students -- students who have been molded in the same way she has. You care about her future? Let her judge for herself if they're successful. Or if their "success" is the kind that will let her sleep at night. PHELPS: Very well. It might not hurt for you to meet them as well. Their positive example might convince you to let go of your lies and your anger before it's too late. (Now Daria's eyes harden. Quinn glances from Phelps to Daria with an unhappy, confused expression.) DARIA: Quinn, look at me, not at him. When it comes to the important things, have I *ever* lied to you? (Quinn tilts her face, gazes at Daria with a searching, reluctant expression.) QUINN: You've kept stuff from me. DARIA: Maybe so, but have I ever told an honest-to-goodness lie about our family or how I feel about you? Ever?? QUINN: I don't... remember... DARIA: Think harder. PHELPS: Daria, stop harassing the poor girl just because she's not telling you what you want to hear. (Quinn's shoulders sag.) QUINN: I don't... I... I *want* to believe you, Daria. (Daria's expression grows more hopeful.) QUINN: But... DARIA: But what?? PHELPS: (gentle) She's your sister and she loves you. Of *course* she wants to believe you. But should she listen to her emotions or to what her eyes and ears tell her? DARIA: (to Quinn) If you won't believe me, what about Mom and Dad?? We can't *all* be filled with misguided rage. QUINN: Yeah, but... they only feel that way because of what you told them. DARIA: Quinn, what will it take for you to get that something's really wrong, and it isn't me?! QUINN: I told you, Daria, whatever you're feeling, I want to talk about it. DARIA: Yes. (With faint desperation, she touches Quinn's arm.) Let's go somewhere and talk. Just you and me, without distractions. (Quinn pulls away gently.) QUINN: (quiet) First, I need you to tell Mr. Phelps that you're sorry. DARIA: Forget it. QUINN: Come on, you've been really unfair to him and he's just trying to help. DARIA: I said no. QUINN: Daria, how am I supposed to believe that you're not seriously angry and stuff if you can't handle *one* apology?! (Daria looks at her. Quinn gazes back, her cheeks red, eyes glittering with anger, sadness, and need. Daria knows that one "I'm sorry" to Phelps would send her back into Quinn's good graces... but the fact that she would even need to apologize to prove herself to Quinn means that their relationship is already too far gone.) DARIA: Then I guess you can't believe it. (She lowers her eyes.) I'm sorry, Quinn. I can't apologize to him... not when I didn't do anything wrong. QUINN: Daria... (She almost chokes out the name, as her eyes grow bright.) DARIA: I was hoping you'd come to realize that on your own. (Phelps stands just behind Quinn, his expression still, but Daria detects a smile in his eyes. For once, she doesn't feel rage. She feels burnt-out, past the point of feeling.) DARIA: I hope you really do care about her. (She turns and walks away slowly. Quinn is too choked up to call out after her, and Phelps puts a comforting, possessive hand on her shoulder.) (cut to: ) SCENE 8 (Daria's bedroom, late afternoon) (Daria walks slowly into her room and sits down at her desk. She reaches into her top drawer and pulls out a folder, which contains Marshall Winsett's list of student names and phone numbers, retrieved at his office after their discussion. Daria's notes are already scrawled beside some of them, pointing out whether one person was at an alternate number, had moved away, or was unreachable.) (Daria pulls out another page, containing a script she made to wile her way into a conversation with one of Phelps's former students without revealing who she was. She now takes both pages and walks over to her phone on the bed. She sits down and dials the next available number with a heavy heart. Regardless of what happens now, she has already lost her sister.) (cut to: ) SCENE 9 (The Grove, afternoon, several days later) (Quinn and Mr. Phelps sit out on the deck. Quinn puts jam on half a scone, which she still finds too heavy for her taste, but it's the only item on the menu that she really knows. Phelps sips his tea, looking unusually buoyant, as though he is eager to deliver good news and can scarcely hold back.) QUINN: It's so cool to be here during lunch. All the other kids are stuck in the boring old cafeteria. PHELPS: If it weren't for that damned church service next door hogging spaces in the car park, this would be ideal. (A shadow falls over Quinn's face.) QUINN: I just wish we didn't have to sneak around. I keep trying to tell my parents what you're really like, but they won't listen! PHELPS: How *are* things in Mr. Hunter's class? QUINN: Terrible. He's like three or four lessons behind you, and he's got this stupid droning voice that makes math sound like a chore, like eating your vegetables or shopping at a discount clothing outlet. He isn't you. (Phelps's lips, which turned upward momentarily at Quinn's comparisons, now smooth out with sympathy.) QUINN: I hate my parents for yanking me out of your class. If they make me transfer to a different school, I swear I'm moving out. PHELPS: Still, you do seem in good spirits. QUINN: Yeah. It's weird, but I feel really good. PHELPS: How come? QUINN: Just... I've just decided to let go of the stuff I was worried about. It was hurting me too much, and I realized I couldn't change it, so why let it take up so much space in my head? PHELPS: Yes, good. (He picks up on her underlying meaning.) We can't let ourselves be weighed down by naysayers and doubt. We have to keep our eyes focused straight ahead if we want to achieve our goals in life. QUINN: *Yeah*. (She smiles and takes a bite of scone. Phelps reaches down and picks up his briefcase, which he lays on the table.) PHELPS: Ms. Morgendorffer, I have a bit of good news for you. (Quinn's eyes widen.) QUINN: Oh my God! Your professor friend at Cambridge liked my work?! PHELPS: He... no. (His buoyancy fades a little.) He hasn't got back to me yet. I'm sure he will soon. QUINN: Okay. What is it, then? PHELPS: It's difficult to explain, but over the past few years, I've been doing some investing to supplement my income. I'm generally too modest to talk about it, but now and then, when I meet someone who is truly special, I share what I know. I've debated for some time over whether to trust you with my information, until recent events have affirmed that I could. Therefore, I am giving you the opportunity to invest money as well. QUINN: Oh. (Her enthusiasm fades a little.) Cool. PHELPS: (knowing) I wouldn't act so jaded quite yet. Students who invest with me are guaranteed to see their money grow... at an impressive rate. By the time you graduate, you could use it as a scholarship of sorts. (He winks.) *Or*, if you get into Cambridge, it could pay for your many trips to London and Paris. (Quinn's cheeks color with longing.) QUINN: *Oh*. That *does* sound cool! (Phelps pulls a paper out of his briefcase, which he then lays in front of her.) PHELPS: Take your time and look it over. Then, when you're satisfied, just sign your name on the dotted line at the bottom. QUINN: Mr. Phelps... (She laughs a little with pleasure and embarrassment.) This is really nice of you, but I can't take your money. PHELPS: It isn't *my* money, Quinn. It's your money. You've already earned it. QUINN: Okay... (For reasons she can't explain, this doesn't sit right. However, she stifles her uneasiness as she looks over the form.) QUINN: "Cayman Islands"? Isn't that in the Caribbean somewhere? PHELPS: Yes it is. QUINN: Why would my bank be all the way out there? Wouldn't I want it close so I can take the money out if I need it? PHELPS: (slightly impatient) It's not for that sort of use. Besides, your money wouldn't grow quickly in just any bank. QUINN: How quickly? PHELPS: In a good year, you can make as much as, oh, five thousand dollars with no risk. QUINN: Wow! (She reaches into her backpack to retrieve a pen.) How come more people don't know about this?! PHELPS: Because most people are too set in their ways to do proper research. Besides, if everyone knew, the return wouldn't be half as good. (He reaches into his coat and pulls out a fountain pen.) PHELPS: Here you go. This ought to give you nice, clear penmanship. (Quinn takes the pen and holds it near the signature line. She relaxes her arm.) QUINN: I don't know... I think you have to be eighteen to sign legal stuff. PHELPS: Nonsense -- for a bank account, you can sign at any age, provided you have an adult witness. (He smiles at Quinn, but she notices strain behind the smile.) QUINN: Maybe I should think it over a little. (Phelps takes the form back in a sweeping gesture and lays it back in his briefcase.) PHELPS: Yes, why not mull it over for a night or two, then get back to me with your answer? QUINN: Okay. PHELPS: It's such a golden opportunity, though, I'd hate to see it squandered. QUINN: Yeah... (cut to: ) SCENE 10 (Lawndale High parking lot, a short time later) (Phelps eases his Bentley into the teachers' parking lot, with Quinn in the passenger seat, looking quiet and thoughtful. The strange feeling she felt at The Grove has been turning over and over inside her, until at last she realizes the cause.) QUINN: Mr. Phelps? PHELPS: Yes? QUINN: What did you mean when you said I'd already earned the money? PHELPS: Well, I meant... (He turns off the ignition, gazes ahead.) ... that final statistics project you did was for a sort of "grand prize": access to some of the best financial markets available. QUINN: I thought that project was for your friend at Cambridge. PHELPS: It is... as well. (He removes his glasses and begins cleaning them with a handkerchief.) It's possible to have both, isn't it? QUINN: Sure. (She unbuckles her belt and tries to shove her bad feelings aside.) PHELPS: I'll confess, I was treating you a bit like a grad student researcher, using some of your work in an information gathering process in order to tap into the best revenue sources. QUINN: Used it... how? PHELPS: It's quite fascinating -- you'll learn every detail from start to finish once you've signed on. The markets your final project accessed will produce a remarkable return for the both of us. It didn't seem fair to keep it from you any longer. QUINN: Daria... she said... PHELPS: (gentle, firm) Whatever she said, she's wrong. Even if she had no ulterior motive, it's highly unlikely that she would know the finer points of investing. (Quinn nods a bit shakily.) QUINN: But why do you need to invest money to make a good living? You're so smart, you could be anything. You don't *have* to teach. (Phelps's eyes soften.) PHELPS: That's sweet of you to say. But I'm perfectly happy with my life as is. QUINN: But aren't you... isn't that taking other people's money? PHELPS: "Taking"?? Quinn, where do you think money comes from?? When you buy a lottery ticket, you hope to win money that came from millions of people. When you own stock, you're profiting from other people's earnings. Money flows from one owner to the next, never lingering in one place for too long. That is its nature -- it doesn't just fall out of the sky. QUINN: But -- PHELPS: To earn it, you need to be aggressive. Those who make the boldest decisions are held in the highest esteem, so is it so wrong for you and me to want to get ahead? QUINN: (tries to smile) When you put it that way... (Phelps's shoulders relax, but something in Quinn's demeanor tells him that she's still not convinced.) PHELPS: What's wrong, Quinn? You can tell me. QUINN: You've never called me "Quinn" this much before. PHELPS: Yes, well, I figured it was time to drop the formalities outside of class. You and I are good enough friends that we don't need to hide behind them anymore. QUINN: Okay... PHELPS: Or so I thought. (An edge enters his voice.) You *do* trust me enough to tell me what you're feeling right now? QUINN: Of course. It's just... first you told me that the statistics were for the Advanced Placement test, then that they were for your friend at Cambridge. Now you're saying they're for some bank account overseas. PHELPS: (impatient) They can't be for all three? Really, Quinn, I'm surprised at you. You're beginning to sound like your sister. QUINN: Oh, no... I didn't mean to. PHELPS: Would you really choose to believe someone who has lied to you repeatedly and can barely contain her jealousy? QUINN: (flushing) No, no, I'm sure it's all fine. But, um, Mr. Phelps? When you buy a lottery ticket, you know where your money is going. Do the people whose money you're using, do they... know...? PHELPS: Quinn, I'm a little upset. Here I present to you this wonderful gift, and you respond with these hurtful accusations. Have I ever been anything but completely kind and supportive? QUINN: No. PHELPS: Many students could have benefited from my guidance, but I chose you. I saw something special in *you*. Not just as a promising student, but as a promising *person*. You have a joyful willingness to embrace life that I think will take you far. I started off with promise, but never got the nudge I needed. Now I can only use the money to go out on a high note. You can use it to fulfill your destiny. QUINN: Oh... okay. (Her shoulders slump.) I'm sorry I acted so ungrateful. (She opens the door and climbs out of the car. Phelps does likewise. He walks over to Quinn's side of the car, his usual warmth tinged with an alien, unseemly quality. Quinn finds herself aware of the fact that there are no people around.) PHELPS: So you'll give me your answer? Tomorrow? (Quinn nods rapidly.) QUINN: Yeah. Um, thanks for lunch -- I'd better get to my next class. (She starts to go, but feels Phelps's hand on her shoulder. His gesture isn't rough, but firm, and enough to cause Quinn to spin around. Phelps looks deeply into her eyes.) PHELPS: Something *is* different. You are afraid. QUINN: I... (She swallows and tries to keep her voice steady.) ... I just don't think I need that kind of money. My parents can pay -- PHELPS: (hard) So you *do* believe your sister. QUINN: I don't... I just don't think I need *that* money. Why don't you give it to some kid who can't afford to pay for college? PHELPS: Your answer is no, then. QUINN: I, um, I just have to think about it. Let me think about it tonight. (But to Phelps, her answer is already clear. He feels a distinct, invisible barrier raise up between them at the sight of Quinn's panicked expression.) PHELPS: Of course. (Quinn smiles and turns to leave, rapidly moving beyond Phelps's reach.) PHELPS: Quinn?? (She stops and turns around to face him.) PHELPS: You won't tell anyone about our little discussion, will you? I don't want news of my opportunity getting out to everyone. It's just for my friends. QUINN: No... of course I won't tell anyone. (A shudder enters her voice, one which she regrets instantly, because rather than soothe her math teacher, it seems to make him more nervous.) QUINN: I won't tell anyone. (She heads off, her heart hammering in her chest, wondering what has come over her. Why did the presence of her math teacher suddenly fill her with fear?) (Phelps watches her go, his shoulders tense with hope and anxiety. Gradually, his anxiety gets replaced by desolation, which fills his face and eyes. For several moments he stands there, trying to collect himself, like someone who has just lost a loved one.) PHELPS: I wish I could believe you. END OF ACT FIVE ACT SIX SCENE 1 (Phelps's office, that evening) (Phelps strides into his office and closes the door behind him. He goes over to a bookcase and pulls down one of his file folders, this one with a lock. He works the combination, opens the top, and thumbs through the papers inside. His determined expression gives way to one of sadness and uncertainty as he pulls out a sheet of paper and studies it. Then, just as quickly, his gaze grows steely, and he pulls out several more sheets of paper.) (cut to: ) SCENE 2 (French class, morning, the next day) (Quinn sits toward the back, watching her French teacher conjugate irregular verbs, when a student aide enters from the side door and gives her a note.) TEACHER: Quinn? Ms. Li wants to see you. (Surprised and a little embarrassed, Quinn stands up and heads out.) (cut to: ) SCENE 3 (Li's office) (Quinn enters to find her seated at her desk with a stern, no-nonsense expression. Seated in one of the chairs across from her is Mr. Phelps.) MS. LI: Take a seat, Ms. Morgendorffer. (Quinn sits down and looks at her mentor for any clues about the intent of this meeting. He gazes back emotionlessly.) MS. LI: It appears we have a very serious situation. Your former math teacher, Mr. Phelps, has discovered that you were *cheating* in his class. QUINN: I... *what*? (Quinn's heart drops into her stomach. She swerves to face Phelps, trying to find some reason he would make such a charge against her.) MS. LI: He stated that this was apparently going on for *several* months, even bleeding into your mathlehhhtics performance. QUINN: But... but I... MS. LI: Normally this would be handled on an in-class basis, but Mr. Phelps believes that this problem was *chronic*. PHELPS: It seems that over a period of several months, going back to last year, Ms. Morgendorffer obtained my answer keys for homework and tests, memorizing them ahead of time to achieve a high score. I found one answer key with her handwriting on it and have been comparing her subsequent assignments to the keys themselves. The way she solves each problem is strikingly similar to the way it is solved on the key. QUINN: But you *gave* me --! PHELPS: (sorrowful) I kept hoping I was wrong. After all those hours I spent giving her extra help, I thought she was making marked progress on her own. It's devastating to have learned the truth. QUINN: I didn't cheat! (Phelps turns to gaze at her, the chill in his blue eyes so palpable, it almost hurts Quinn physically to look at him.) PHELPS: Are you calling me a liar, Ms. Morgendorffer?! (Quinn inhales sharply, recognizing none of the man whom she admired. Her throat starts to ache and she feels tears welling in her own eyes.) QUINN: (softer) I didn't cheat. MS. LI: You mean to tell me you don't recognize your *own* handwriting?? (She shows Quinn the answer key, and, without a doubt, her "bouncy" penmanship is in plain sight.) QUINN: Yes, but -- MS. LI: (sarcastic) Ohhh, but you have a *good* reason for your inexplicable academic rise. (She takes Quinn's transcript folder on her desk and opens it up.) MS. LI: The rise that had you going from a 63-percent average your freshman year to an 82 average your first trimester, a 96 average your second trimester, and a *105* percent average your third trimester of sophomore year and, thus far, your junior year. Of course it's all because you (snicker) studied. QUINN: I didn't cheat. (Her mind spinning, she clings to these words as an anchor.) MS. LI: Ms. Morgendorffer, what sort of *fool* do you take me for?? In the history of Llllllllawndale High, *no* one has experienced such a sharp turnaround. Especially in light of the *rest* of your grades. PHELPS: I still can't believe it... I really thought that she had a gift. I thought she was my special one, that she could really go places. I see now that it was just wistful thinking. (Quinn lurches upright in her seat and gazes at Phelps with an expression of disbelief. Tears spill out of her eyes, down her cheeks.) QUINN: (choked) Why are you doing this to me? MS. LI: I should ask *you* the same thing. Are you and your sister trying to single-handedly bring my school down?! (Quinn is too choked-up to respond. She wipes her eyes, but the tears flow unabated. Once, she fancies that an expression of remorse flickers across her old teacher's face, but it is gone as quickly as it appeared.) PHELPS: Now I understand why she wanted to transfer so suddenly. She must have known that her misdeeds would catch up with her. MS. LI: This is a verrrry serious matter requiring appropriate punishment. First, I'll need to call your parents. (She reaches for her phone, starts to dial.) (Cut to shot of Helen in her office, where, predictably, she is storming around while Marianne works frantically in the background.) HELEN: Whose *idiotic* idea was it to put that slogan on our letterhead?! Now everyone looking for a firm with our area of expertise will think that we cater to criminals! Just *wait* until the meeting with the partners--! MARIANNE: (holding the phone) Helen, it's your daughters' principal. (Helen's already angry face turns a brighter shade of red. She storms over to her desk and picks up her phone.) HELEN: What the hell do you want?! MS. LI: (O.S.) Mrs. Morgendorffer. It's just not your month, is it? (Intercut with Ms. Li in her office, wearing a faint smirk of satisfaction.) MS. LI: It appears you now have *both* of your children facing grave disciplinary measures at this school. HELEN: So *Quinn*'s in trouble, now?! What in God's name are you trying to do to my family?! MS. LI: Excuse me, *I'm* not the one who caught her serially cheating in math. HELEN: Someone caught her in the act?? MS. LI: Noooo, but -- HELEN: Then your charge is bogus. Quinn loves math too much, and besides -- with the recent bad blood between us and Mr. Phelps, it wouldn't be beyond him to punish her in the spirit of petty revenge. MS. LI: (snort) You could be right, but whom should I believe? One of Lllllawndale High's most distinguished teachers, or a mother who lives in denial about her older daughter's emotional *stability*. (These last words cause Helen's face to harden into a cold, murderous shape.) HELEN: The second this is resolved, I'm getting my daughters out of your school and as far away from *you* as possible. Now put Quinn on the phone right this *damned* minute so I can hear what really happened. (Ms. Li motions for Quinn to take the phone. She stands up stiffly and lifts it to her ear, her hand trembling slightly.) HELEN: Quinn? Your principal said something about you cheating in your math class. Is this true?? (Quinn's throat is tight. Helen hears her shaky breathing on the other end.) HELEN: Quinn?? (Quinn swallows hard and forces herself to speak with as much energy as possible.) QUINN: (hoarse) No. HELEN: You promise? (When it's clear that Quinn is incapable of saying more, she speaks in a gentle tone.) Honey, I'll be right over. Give the phone back to your principal and don't say anything more until I get there. (Quinn does so, then sinks back into her seat.) HELEN: My daughter has verified that she didn't cheat. So until I see this "evidence" for myself and am sure of its validity, I'm going to treat any attempt to discipline her as a violation of her rights. MS. LI: Oh goody -- another lawsuit. Just as useless as the others. (From her chair, Quinn squeezes her eyes shut.) (cut to: ) SCENE 4 (Morgendorffer house, late afternoon) (Daria opens the front door and sees Helen sitting alone in the living room, going over files, a bleak look on her face.) DARIA: What's wrong? HELEN: Your sister got in trouble at school. That horrible teacher of hers accused her of having cheated in his math class. For now, just promise you'll be extra nice to her, okay? DARIA: Okay. (Bewildered, she heads up the stairs.) (cut to: ) SCENE 5 (Quinn's room) (Daria opens the door gently and finds Quinn lying on her back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.) DARIA: Hey. (No response.) Quinn? (She waits several moments, until Quinn breaks out of her trance and turns her head toward Daria, who can see that her face is red and tear-stained.) DARIA: How are you feeling? (Quinn mumbles something in such a soft, weak tone that Daria cannot hear her. She steps forward into the room.) DARIA: I heard what happened. I'm sorry you had to find out that way. (Quinn looks at her for a moment, then closes her eyes. Tears seep out from beneath her lids.) DARIA: I told you, your teacher's a scumbag. He has a history of getting students to steal for him. I met with someone close to him who is compiling evidence of his guilt, and I've been calling his former students. Did you know that of the six he was closest to, two have suffered nervous breakdowns and four of the six have dropped out of college? Their relationship with Phelps might have nothing to do with it, but it shows he wasn't exactly a beacon of light. QUINN: (toneless) He offered me money from some island. DARIA: What? QUINN: Yesterday. Said he used my statistics to get some account in the Cayman Islands. Said I should have it... because I was good... (Her face scrunches up, as she tries to fight off a sob.) DARIA: Did you take it? (After several moments, Quinn shakes her head.) DARIA: Do you think that's why he accused you of cheating? QUINN: Maybe. (Daria feels herself growing hot with rage.) DARIA: So the jerk was punishing you because you wouldn't do what he wanted. QUINN: He's right. DARIA: That you should have taken it? QUINN: That I cheated. (Daria's eyes widen, as Quinn sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed, looking even worse in a full-on view.) QUINN: (tired) When I first started getting help from him, he would give me answer keys for how to do problems. Not just for the mathletic events -- *all* the time. He said it was to help me build confidence, until I could do it on my own. (She stares down at the floor, tears dripping onto the carpet.) QUINN: I used one the first time... for one of his quizzes. After that, I realized I didn't need them -- I knew what I was doing without them, and I gave them back to him. DARIA: You cheated once last year and he chooses to punish you now? QUINN: For all he knows, I used them all the time. DARIA: How could he, if you gave them back before the tests? QUINN: Maybe he thought I'd already memorized them. DARIA: Why would he go to the charade of pretending you're special if he really thought you were cheating consistently? QUINN: (soft) To butter me up so I would do what he wanted? DARIA: Plenty of people have seen you do math problems. Jodie, the other mathletes, Dad... *they* know you haven't been cheating. QUINN: But *I* don't know. DARIA: (stunned) You just said -- QUINN: *Mr. Phelps* was my answer key, Daria. He was the one who first got me interested in math and he's the reason I was ever any good at it. DARIA: You're kidding, right? QUINN: What am I going to do without him?! (She lets out a loud sob that causes her whole body to shake, and curls up on the bed. Daria stands awkwardly nearby, her expression one of sympathy.) DARIA: Come on. You need a change of scenery. (Quinn shakes her red face frantically, her breath coming out in short gasps.) DARIA: At least come into my room. There are lots of nice, heavy bones you can hit against the wall, and the padding makes for nice shock absorption... (cut to: ) SCENE 6 (Daria's room, a short time later) (Daria sits on the bed, while Quinn stands with her back to her, facing the wall, her hysteria reduced to a dullness in her expression and manner.) QUINN: (quiet) I thought he lov-- I thought he really liked me. How could I be so stupid? DARIA: You weren't stupid. QUINN: How could I believe all that stuff he said about me being a prodigy?? DARIA: If some teacher had paid me that kind of attention, I probably would have dropped everything to spend time with him, too. (Quinn gazes vacantly around her, her eyes lingering on one of the many book piles Daria still has out from her search for the journal. She then turns to face her sister.) QUINN: Ms. Li said that if I can't prove I didn't cheat, I'll fail this trimester and have to retake sophomore *and* junior math. And even if I got A's, I'd still have some big ugly mark on my record that says I cheated the first time. What college would want me then? DARIA: We'll make sure that doesn't happen. QUINN: What am I gonna be if I can't be a math brain anymore? DARIA: Don't you remember what I said last time? You can do lots of things. QUINN: Right. Put everything into fashion again? (Some anger breaks through her dullness.) After months of hearing that caring about clothes is just a waste of my life, I'm supposed to go back to that and be happy?! DARIA: I never said that. I just meant why limit yourself? QUINN: It's easy for you to say that, Daria. No one told *you* that your Number One passion was a big lie. DARIA: Excuse me? I'm in the hot seat right now *because* my passion made me tell a lie. QUINN: Yeah, but no one ever told you that you weren't a writer, did they? No one ever said that you don't know how to read long books, like... (She picks one up off the top of a pile.) ... _The Complete Works of Shakespeare_. (She drops it with a heavy thud on the floor. Daria winces, but understanding Quinn's mood, refrains from snapping at her.) QUINN: Or... (picks up another book.) ..._Middlemarch_. (She tosses it farther, then picks up another book.) Or _East of Eden_. (She tosses this one so far that it bounces off the bottom of the wall.) DARIA: Quinn, don't hurt the books. They never did anything to you. QUINN: (not hearing her) Or _The Federalist Papers_. (This time she throws overhand, so the book smacks against the wall before collapsing to the floor.) Or _War and Peace_! (She holds it over her head and throws it against the wall.) Or _The Plague_! (She hurls it against the wall.) (Daria shoots upright.) DARIA: Quinn, stop it! QUINN: This is all your fault! (She starts tossing books, two or three at a time.) QUINN: If you hadn't told me you thought Phelps was stealing, I wouldn't have freaked out when he tried to offer me that money and he wouldn't have gotten mad at me! DARIA: Quit acting like a brat and let's talk. QUINN: About what?! How you ruined me life?! (She takes a book and throws it toward Daria, so it narrowly misses her head. Her expression hardening with anger, Daria steps forward.) QUINN: No one's ever gonna tell you that you don't know how to write any of your stupid stories! Like... (She opens up a notebook.) ...Melody Powers. (Daria's eyes widen.) DARIA: (whisper) Put that down. (For a few moments, she and Quinn stand motionless. Finally Daria makes a quick movement to retrieve the notebook. Quinn tears off a page.) DARIA: You... (Something inside her snaps, and she lunges at Quinn, who jumps out of the way, tearing out an entire section of the notebook and then ripping it into smaller pieces. Daria hurries after her and grabs her by the wrist, then tries to take her other one, but Quinn squirms and rakes her nails across her forearm and manages to get away. She finds another one of Daria's notebooks and rips out the insides without even reading them. Daria stumbles after her and shoves her against the wall.) DARIA: You spoiled little bitch. (The padding cannot entirely conceal the hard wall behind it, and Quinn feels a jolt as she hits it at full force. It's enough to make her drop the torn pages, before she falls to the floor beside them. Daria crouches down beside her and again tries to take her wrists, but Quinn bats her hand away and threatens to bite it, all the while tearing up the pages that she's found on the floor. Finally Daria smacks her across the face -- hard.) DARIA: I ruined *your* life?! (While Quinn is stunned, Daria grabs her wrists and pins her down. Tears streaming out of her eyes, Quinn struggles against her, but every time she tries to sit up, Daria shoves her back down. Quinn at last manages to wrench an arm loose and, with one sweep, smacks off Daria's glasses. Daria blinks, trying to adjust to the blurrier world around her, which Quinn takes as an opportunity to shove her off. With a wild air, she locates more torn pages and reduces them to shreds, until Daria has regained her bearings, grabbed her by the legs, and forced her back down to the floor. She shoves herself on top of Quinn, then smacks her in the ear and grabs a fistful of her hair. As she feels it being yanked, Quinn can barely suppress a scream. She tries to keep her arms free, pushing one hand against Daria's face, her nails sometimes meeting skin. Daria's hands find Quinn's neck...) HELEN: (O.S.) GIRLS! (They continue to struggle against each other, oblivious, until they see Helen's angry face hovering over them.) HELEN: Daria! Quinn! Get up! NOW! (For a moment, they both lie on the floor in a daze. Then, as they regain their senses, both slowly roll into crouching positions and rise to their feet. As Quinn stands, shreds of paper flutter to the floor.) HELEN: What in the *hell* has gotten into you two?! Quinn?! (Quinn gazes down at the shreds, some of which are still stuck to her jeans. A feeling of horror washes over her.) HELEN: What *are* those?! (With a strangled gasp, Quinn pushes past Helen. As she flees toward the door, she grabs the car keys off of Daria's desk.) HELEN: Quinn! Get back here! (She chases after her, but Quinn's stumble has turned into a full-on sprint. She races down the stairs and out the front door. By the time Helen reaches the bottom, she is just in time to hear the squealing of tires. She opens the front door to see Quinn peeling off in the Jetta.) HELEN: QUINN! (She knows that calling after her is useless -- Quinn can't hear her. Helen watches the car disappear into the distance with a worried expression.) (A few minutes later, she reappears in Daria's room to find her elder daughter, glasses back on, numbly trying to piece together some of the pages Quinn has torn.) DARIA: (faded voice) It's all right... just some dumb old stories. Not like I was ever going to publish them. (Helen gasps softly, gazes at her with a sorrowful expression.) (cut to: ) SCENE 7 (driving, evening) (Quinn hurtles down a woodsy back road in the Jetta. Her hair is disheveled, her eyes red and puffy, and some bruising evident on her cheeks and neck. Her manner is crazed indifference mixed with self-loathing.) (cut to: ) SCENE 8 (Morgendorffer house, 7 p.m.) (Helen sits on the center couch of the living room, the phone to her ear.) HELEN: Have you seen her? Have you checked your messages? (Pause) Well why *not*? (Pause) No, Jake, you don't have to come over. (Pause) No we *don't* have to call the police! It's only been a couple of hours -- Quinn's probably run over to a friend's house to cool off. I bet she'll turn up in an hour or so... (Dissolve to show the clock, which now reads 9:05 p.m. Helen is pacing around the living room, the phone to her ear.) HELEN: Sandi hasn't seen her? (Pause) You're sure? (She sighs.) Well tell Sandi that if she *does* see Quinn, let her know that we're not angry with her. We just want her to check in. (Pause) No, nothing's wrong. (Pause, angrier.) No, she didn't run away because my husband and I were fighting! She *hasn't* run away! (Pause) No, I *don't* need the name of a good divorce attorney! *Good-bye*! (She hangs up the phone and flings it against the couch cushion, then immediately picks it back up. Meanwhile, Daria creeps down the stairs, her expression still hardened with anger from her earlier encounter with Quinn.) HELEN: (sees her) Does Quinn have any friends whose parents *aren't* malicious back-stabbing harpies?! (Dissolve to show the clock, which now reads 10:25 p.m. Helen is still pacing, looking even more frantic.) HELEN: Amy, are you sure? She hasn't called in? (Helen's cheeks color as she listens.) No, no... there's no reason for me to think she'd be headed your way. I just thought maybe she took after her mother. (She laughs weakly.) Oh *no*, there's no reason for you to worry -- teenagers like to stay out at all hours. I'm probably just being overprotective. (Daria walks down stairs, pauses at the landing to observe.) HELEN: (into the phone) Well *thank* you... I appreciate that. You rest up and say hi to Joel for me. (Pause) Bye. (She hangs up the phone, then immediately dials voice mail to see if Quinn might have called while she was talking to Amy.) HELEN: Honest to God! I don't know *how* many messages I've left on her cell phone! The *least* she could do is answer *one* of them --! DARIA: *Mom*. (Helen turns to look. Daria holds up Quinn's cell phone. Helen gasps, realizing that Quinn never would have had time to take it during her flight down the stairs. Her shoulders slumping, she sinks down onto the couch.) DARIA: I don't see what you're so worked up about. She always stays out this late on her dates. HELEN: When she's on a date, we know where she is. DARIA: (frowns) She's probably just hiding out until she's scared you and Dad into promising that you won't ground her until she's forty. HELEN: You could at least *try* to show some concern, Daria. DARIA: Why?? You saw what she did. HELEN: Yes, I saw what she did. I also saw what *you* did. (She stands up.) When did your father or I *ever* give you the idea that hitting your sister was acceptable behavior?! DARIA: She was throwing books at me and ripping up my stories! What was I supposed to do? HELEN: Not that. (Her face registers anger and disappointment.) That isn't *you*, Daria -- letting rage control you, like some... some crazed bully. DARIA: And throwing a three-year-old temper tantrum is Quinn?! (Helen dials another number.) HELEN: (mutters) I just hope to God in her emotional state, she hasn't... (She pauses, as someone answers.) Hello, Stacy? This is Quinn's mother again. (Daria's eyes widen, as she ponders for the first time whether Quinn's anguish could have led her to do something drastic. She walks over to the left-hand couch and sits down.) HELEN: (into the phone) It's okay, Stacy... no, it's okay... it's *okay*... please don't cry. Just let me know if you hear anything. (Pause) It's *okay*. (Pause) Good-bye. (No sooner has she hung up the phone when the front door swings open, revealing Jake. He heads into the living room.) HELEN: Jake! (She stands up to give him a hug.) Have you heard anything?? JAKE: No, but I left a note on my door telling her where I went in case she stopped by. I drove past all those teenage hangouts on my way over here, but didn't see her car. (Helen gets a nervous look on her face.) HELEN: Jake, I keep thinking: What if she's gone to confront that Mr. Phelps?? Maybe he has her, and -- JAKE: Does she know where he lives?? DARIA: I'd think he'd be the last person she'd want to see. HELEN: Even so, I left a message on his machine about an hour ago. Oh God, I just hope... (Jake puts an arm around her.) JAKE: It's okay, Helen. I'll drive around again. I'll cover the whole damned East Coast if I have to. DARIA: I'll go with you. (Jake looks at Daria with gratitude.) JAKE: Thanks, kiddo. If you're the lookout, it'll be easier for me to avoid an accident... (Dissolve to show the clock, which now reads 2:10 a.m. Now, both Helen *and* Jake pace around the living room, while Daria sits slumped over on the left-hand couch. Helen has the phone to her ear.) HELEN: No I will NOT wait twenty-four hours to file a police report! My younger daughter is MISSING! She's been gone for nine hours -- my husband and older daughter have driven across half the state looking for her! If that's not missing, I don't know what IS! (She lets out an angry cry, as the police officer on the other end tells her something she doesn't want to hear.) JAKE: Here, Helen, let me try. (She gives him the phone.) HEY, you stupid police officer guy! You listen to us, dammit! We pay your salary! (Pause) No I will NOT go on hold-- hello? HELLO?? Dammit! (He almost throws the phone in anger. Helen puts a hand on his arm, and they exchange a silent look that promises they will try to hold it together.) (Dissolve to show the clock reading 6:56 a.m. The sun peaks through the windows. Daria has gone upstairs, while Jake lies in a fetal position on the right-hand couch, snoring lightly. Helen sits in an upright position on the center couch, her eyes closed and head tilted to the side. Her eyes are puffy and hollowed out from tears and lack of sleep.) (At the faint sound of a car engine outside, she springs back to consciousness. Helen races over to the window to check, but quickly grows disappointed as she sees a neighboring car rumble past on its way to work. She gazes around the living room and kitchen, notes the lack of Quinn, and, taking the phone, slowly walks up the stairs.) (Helen enters Quinn's room and looks around. She and Jake have already swept through it for signs of Quinn's whereabouts, and she doesn't really expect to find her there now. Still, seeing the empty room causes a heavy feeling in Helen's chest. She sinks down on Quinn's bed, gazes blankly at the posters, pom-poms, and the mirrors. Then she looks at the phone, dials a number. After a few rings lead to an answering machine message...) HELEN: (drained, emotionless) Mr. Phelps? This is Helen Morgendorffer, Quinn's mother. I'm sorry if my last message to you sounded harsh. It's just that my daughter is missing. (Her voice cracks a little.) She was so upset after what happened yesterday that she took off in her car and hasn't been home all night. No one else has seen her. I'm *not* blaming you... I just... I just thought maybe she was with you or you might know where she is. I just want her to be safe... that's all I care about. I just want to know that she's safe... (A few moments of silence pass, as Helen can't think of anything more to say. She thumbs off the phone and stares at the floor.) (cut to: ) SCENE 9 (Phelps's house, soon after) (Marshall stands just outside Phelps's office door. Helen's voice on the message recording rumbles on, obscured by the thickness of the door frame. Marshall opens the door gently just as the last part of the message is being played. He finds Phelps seated at his desk, his forefinger on the Replay button of his answering machine. Phelps's face is expressionless, but his eyes stare off into space, and there is a crease in his brow. When Marshall appears in his sightline, he blinks and his eyes grow focused.) MARSHALL: Quinn is missing, is she? PHELPS: Apparently so. MARSHALL: *Do* you have any idea where she went? PHELPS: No. (He stands, straightens his tie.) And even if I did, I don't have time to go looking for her. I have classes to teach. MARSHALL: (quiet) For God's sake, Alfred, you do still care about the girl? PHELPS: She cheated in my class, Marshall. (Marshall gives him a look that cannot entirely disguise his skepticism.) MARSHALL: Even so, after all of the time you spent together, does that mean she's now worthless to you? (Phelps pauses. He continues to fiddle with his tie until it is completely smooth, then takes off his glasses and shines them until they gleam. When he puts them back on, his brow creases in thought.) PHELPS: There is one place where she could be. (He gazes at Marshall.) PHELPS: I'll phone the police station and leave an anonymous tip. That way, my involvement won't go any further. (cut to: ) SCENE 10 (The Grove, at that same time) (Shot of the outside, which looks serene amongst all the trees. In the side lot, parked across two spaces, is the Jetta.) (Cut to a shot of Quinn, seated Indian-style on top of the upper deck railing, which is thick enough to support the weight of an individual. Behind her, the deck tables are covered by thin canopies and the windows of the tea house are dark. Sunlight plays across Quinn's hair, which is still disheveled from her fight with Daria. She has pulled on a thin sweatshirt left in the car in case of an emergency, which barely protects her from the cold. Her eyes are red- rimmed and shadowed from lack of sleep.) (She gazes down at the quiet stream below, recalling how not long ago, the sight of it filled her with a sense of calm. She now finds it upsetting that it would still be calm, while her emotions are churning.) (Quinn stands up on the railing and looks out. From her point of view, the stream stretches all the way off into the horizon, surrounded by woods that stretch as far as the eye can see, only breaking to circle the borders of a small town. Three stories straight down, the elegant fountain of the Grove, surrounded by a stone walkway, lies still and serene, waiting to be turned on. Quinn can practically see the coins glistening in the water.) SANDI: (O.S.) Quinn? (Quinn freezes and, for one or two seconds, comes dangerously close to falling over the edge, until she regains her balance and moves into a crouching position. She turns her head.) QUINN: Sandi?? SANDI: (vague concern) Quinn, what are you doing? (Quinn glances from Sandi, who has just come up the side stairs, to her position on the railing, and realizes Sandi's implications. She quickly jumps down onto the deck.) QUINN: You thought I was...? Oh *no*, I wasn't. (Relief washes over her.) I would never try to kill myself. SANDI: *That's* good, but what are you doing here? QUINN: It was the only place I knew of where I could be alone to think. SANDI: Your parents are looking for you. They, like, called my house twice. (Quinn's face puckers with remorse. She leans against the railing and looks out.) QUINN: I want to go home... but I can't. My life is such a mess. SANDI: What happened?? QUINN: I ripped up my sister's work. She hates me. SANDI: Your sister? QUINN: (sighs) You knew that Daria's my sister, didn't you? SANDI: You mean *before* you stopped pretending? (She nods abruptly, then joins Quinn at the railing.) QUINN: Mr. Phelps accused me of cheating a bunch of times. Daria tried to warn me about him. She said he was doing... something bad, and I should keep my distance, but I didn't listen. Then I found out he *was* doing that thing and I sort of freaked out, and now I think he's trying to punish me. And instead of thanking Daria, I got into a huge fight with her. (Sandi notes the bruises on Quinn's face.) QUINN: Now I don't have Mr. Phelps and I don't have Daria. (Her eyes brighten with tears.) And as bad as it was to lose Mr. Phelps, it's way worse to not have my sister. I don't know what to do. SANDI: (briskly) Well *I* know what you can do. First you need to apply a conditioning spray to smooth out the *tangles* in your hair. Then you need to apply a Vitamin-K-based foundation to cover over those bruises -- ugh. (She produces a small "emergency" make-up bag. Quinn smiles in spite of herself.) QUINN: Sandi, that's not really what I meant. (Nonetheless, she quickly takes the offered bag and removes the conditioner and a hairbrush. She squirts conditioner onto her hair and combs it out gently.) QUINN: Thanks for coming to look for me. SANDI: Um, actually... (She gets an uncomfortable look.) ... it's you who are at the place *I* go in the mornings. QUINN: You work at the Grove? SANDI: Um, no... (cut to: ) SCENE 11 (lecture room, soon after) (Sandi and a cleaned-up Quinn enter. Behind the lectern, Quinn notices an embossed sign that reads "Unitarian Universalist Youth." A man in his forties sets a chalice on a nearby table, while some other teenagers and young adults set up folding chairs.) MINISTER: Sandi, it's your turn to light the chalice, isn't it? SANDI: Actually, Reverend, I'm supposed to lead the singing from the hymnal. MINISTER: Ah, yes. (sees Quinn, smiles.) Who's your friend? SANDI: (blushes) Oh, this is Quinn. She isn't staying. QUINN: Hi. MINISTER: (to Quinn) If you're ever interested in joining us, we hold services four times a week from seven to eight and twelve to one. QUINN: Okay. Thanks. (Sandi leads Quinn outside, in the direction of Quinn's car. Quinn looks at her with wide eyes and a smile.) QUINN: *That's* your big secret?? You've been going to *church*?? SANDI: (annoyed) *Yes*. Mystery solved. QUINN: I just never thought *you*, of all people... SANDI: Why not?? It's not one of those *annoying* churches with the sin. People are actually *nice* to you here. QUINN: So all this time, those people you were going out with, they were from your church, too?? SANDI: Yes, yes, *yes*. Can we *please* just drop it?? QUINN: I don't get it -- it's not that big a deal. Why haven't you told anyone? (Sandi turns to look at her, scowls.) SANDI: Maybe because they wouldn't *believe* it. (Realizing that Sandi was hurt by her response, Quinn stifles her amusement.) QUINN: I was surprised. But now that it's sunk in, I think it's kind of cool. SANDI: Yes, well you're a friend. Can you imagine what all the *backstabbers* at our school would say? "She's just being all fake and pious to cover over all the bad things she's done." I don't want them *tainting* it like that. QUINN: Why did you decide to join? (They reach Quinn's car, and Sandi leans against it wearily.) SANDI: Not long after my Zero Tolerance suspension, I was just feeling real *miserable*, like I couldn't do anything right and *no* one trusted me. One day I gave *make-up* advice to some woman standing in line with me at Cashman's, and she told me about this church she belonged to. I found a chapter suited for young people, went to a meeting, and the rest is history. QUINN: So you like it? SANDI: Of *course* I like it. No one here judges you for what you've done. They just make you feel as though you can be better, like you're not just some *split* end in their perfect hair-do. I think it's even made me care a little less about the way people look. QUINN: Then who *cares* what the kids at school say?? If they can't just accept you for who you are, they're not worth it. (Sandi smiles, but then her face grows troubled.) SANDI: No one else knows. Not even my mother. QUINN: What would *she* have against it?? SANDI: (scowls) Oh, she might just treat it as a sign of *weakness* in a cut- throat dog-eating world, or whatever. Or she might treat it like some sort of *networking* opportunity, like the friends I've made are just people I can use to get ahead. QUINN: You'll never know unless you tell her. SANDI: I can't. Maybe if she were like *your* parents, it'd be different. (Hearing the word "parents" catapults Quinn back into her own reality. Her expression grows anxious.) QUINN: So this church teaches you that things will work out, and stuff? (Sandi gets her meaning.) SANDI: That we've all been blessed and that we're all capable of making our own outcomes. You'll be all right, Quinn. QUINN: I don't know. (She gazes at the ground.) I wish I could believe in that stuff like you do, Sandi, but lately, it feels as though everything I believe in has turned out to be a lie. SANDI: For God's sake, Quinn, it's not like you've turned into a *vegetable* or something. You're still the same person who maneuvered her way into the Fashion Club presidency, who says one word and has guys wrapped around her finger. You've got enough going for you -- you don't *need* to believe in anyone else. QUINN: (smiles) I've never heard you talk like that, Sandi. SANDI: (cocks a brow) Don't expect me to make a *habit* of it. QUINN: I promise I won't say anything about your church until you do. SANDI: Thanks. And I promise not tell anyone that I saw you in public with *bedroom* hair. (She and Quinn exchange smirks that show their rivalry isn't entirely dead, but at least it is far removed from what it once was. Just then, red lights flash over them, and Sandi and Quinn turn to see a police car approaching. The car pulls up alongside them and a police officer rolls down his window.) OFFICER: Quinn Morgendorffer? (Quinn's face takes on a look of quiet expectation.) QUINN: Yes. That's me. (cut to: ) SCENE 12 (Morgendorffer house, late morning) (The Jetta is in the driveway, and the police car parked along the curb. Inside, the police officer stands with Quinn, Helen, and Jake. Daria watches them from the couch.) OFFICER: Well, she seems no worse for wear. (to Quinn) Next time you want to spend the night "thinking," I'd suggest you stop by a payphone. (He waves good-bye and closes the door behind him. Jake then grabs Quinn and hugs her tightly to his chest for several moments. When she pulls back --) JAKE: THAT'S IT, YOUNG LADY! YOU ARE NEVER LEAVING THIS HOUSE *AGAIN*! (Quinn's relief at being home quickly vanishes.) JAKE: YOU'RE STAYING UP IN YOUR ROOM! YOU'LL GET YOUR FOOD THROUGH A CRACK IN THE DOOR! WE'LL PICK OUT YOUR HUSBAND AND YOUR KIDS CAN SLEEP IN YOUR SOCK DRAWER! HELEN: WHAT YOUR FATHER MEANS QUINN IS THAT WE WERE SCARED HALF TO DEATH! WE HAD *NO* IDEA WHERE YOU WERE -- DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW THAT FEELS?! QUINN: Okay. I -- JAKE: SHE'LL *NEVER* KNOW BECAUSE HER KIDS WILL GO TO SCHOOL IN HER CLOSET! HELEN: NEVER *EVER* STAY OUT ALL NIGHT WITHOUT TELLING SOMEONE WHERE YOU ARE! QUINN: (toneless) Why not? It's what you did. (Helen looks at her with a stricken expression, the events of "All But Forgotten" flooding back to her. Tired, Quinn brushes past her and heads for the stairs. Helen's face puckers and tears fill her eyes.) HELEN: I know. (Her emotions over the past several hours collide with her lingering guilt, and she can't hold up a brave front any longer. Quinn turns to face her, just as she's let out a loud sob and put her face in her hands. Another sob follows, then another.) HELEN: I shouldn't have done it. I'm *so* sorry. (She begins weeping openly. Jake lays an arm around her and tries to comfort her. From the couch, Daria looks at her, stunned -- as does Quinn. Seeing her mother cry with anguish and hearing her admit, for the first time, that not everything about the separation was noble or pre-ordained, Quinn feels an emotional barrier inside her crumble.) (She walks over to Helen and buries herself in her arms. Helen holds Quinn to her chest, stroking her hair and sobbing into her shoulder. Quinn's own grief rises to the surface once again.) QUINN: Mom, I'm scared. I don't know what to do. (Helen kisses her temple and hugs her tighter. Her sobs eventually give way to sniffles and husky breathing. She shushes Quinn, rocks her gently back and forth, feeling her own tension, caused by weeks of having to be positive and in control, slowly ease away.) (cut to: ) SCENE 13 (Morgendorffer living room, later) (Quinn sits on the left-hand couch, closest to Helen, who sits with Jake on the center couch, while Daria sits on the right-hand couch. All four look improved with rest, and Quinn's face is wearily calm, as she has revealed details about her relationship with Phelps and has come to terms with the fact that punishment is inevitable.) QUINN: (quiet) He stole money... and I helped him. HELEN: No, honey, your teacher tricked you. QUINN: I know, but I knew something wasn't right. I didn't want to believe it, because of all the hours we spent together, talking about math and stuff. He said he was gonna do all these nice things for me... but deep down I had this feeling that wouldn't go away. HELEN: Do you know when the stealing might have started? (Quinn shakes her head, her eyes moistening as she remembers happier times with her teacher.) QUINN: I just thought he wanted me to do well, like when he gave me all those answer keys. I swear, I only cheated on *one* quiz a year ago, and he knew. Why would he get me back *this* way, instead of framing me for the crime, or something? HELEN: I doubt he'd want it made public. Or that he could convince enough people that a naive teenage girl was really responsible. DARIA: He wanted to shatter her credibility. (The rest of the family turns to Daria, hearing her speak for the first time in hours. Her face is hard and her eyes cold, her concern for Quinn having drained away with her sister's safe return.) DARIA: That way, if she tried to report him, he could say she wasn't reliable. It's why he did it to me. JAKE: Of *course*! Smug, evil *bastard*! I told you, Helen, he's not going to get away with this! QUINN: (quieter) Mom, what'll happen if people find out I helped Mr. Phelps steal money? (Her eyes widen.) Would I go to jail?? HELEN: Definitely not. (She lays her hands gently on Quinn's shoulders and tries to keep the worry out of her own voice.) We'd get you a criminal attorney and you'd have witnesses to verify you didn't know what you were doing. QUINN: What if that's not enough?? HELEN: Then I'd say, based on my limited knowledge of criminal law, if you pleaded guilty, at worst you'd get probation on your record. QUINN: I'd have a record?! HELEN: Only until you're eighteen. Then it's sealed and you'd never have to mention it again. QUINN: *Eighteen*? (She swallows hard, her future suddenly feeling much darker.) QUINN: That means I have to mention it if I apply for a summer job, right? (Her face blanches with horror.) Mom! I'll be applying to colleges before I'm eighteen! HELEN: (weary) Sweetheart, you don't know that they'll ask about a criminal background, or that they wouldn't give you the chance to explain yourself if they did. QUINN: Why should I have to plead "guilty"?? That's like saying it was *my* fault, like I knew what Mr. Phelps was up to. HELEN: No Quinn, it's just an acknowledgement of your role in your teacher's scheme -- your testimony would set everything straight. QUINN: Why should I have to say *anything*?? (She lets out a shaky sob, as tears spill out of her eyes, and leans her face into her hands. Helen strokes her back, casts a worried look at Jake.) HELEN: Honey... consider the alternatives if you don't. (Quinn's face remains in her hands for a long time, as she focuses on the black space right before her eyes, imagining that is all there is, that nothing else exists except for the feeling of her mother's hand on her back. Eventually she comes to terms with reality and slowly lifts her head.) QUINN: I have to go to the police. Mr. Phelps can't just get away with stealing other people's money. If I don't talk and the police find out I helped him, it'll look a lot worse, like I did it on purpose and was trying to cover up. (Helen gives her back one last stroke of relief.) QUINN: What do I do first? END OF ACT SIX ACT SEVEN SCENE 1 (police station, the next morning) (Quinn stands with her back to a white wall, holding a large card bearing her name, a number, and her gender and eye color information. Her demeanor is remarkably poised, given the circumstances. A police officer snaps her picture.) OFFICER: Turn to the side, please. (Quinn does so, then jerks out of position.) QUINN: Wait! OFFICER: What? QUINN: I'm trying to remember which is my better side. I mean they're both good, but one's slightly better than the other, and I don't want the side shot to bring out any unexpected deformities that could come back to haunt me. OFFICER: Miss, it's a *mug* shot. QUINN: So? It's still a representative of *me* and I want it to look good. OFFICER: Miss, you *know* this is a formality, don't you? You're not actually getting booked for anything. QUINN: All the more reason! (cut to: ) SCENE 2 (outer waiting area, at the same time) (Helen, Jake, and Daria sit in chairs nearby the sergeant's desk.) HELEN: (crossly) Did you really have to *handcuff* her?? She came to you voluntarily. JAKE: What do you *expect* from the pigs?! You come here for justice, and all you get is a nice big baton *whack* to the skull! HELEN: Jake! SERGEANT: Mr. and Mrs. Morgendorffer, it's just standard procedure. If your daughter's going to testify, we need to start with a "clean case." HELEN: Yes, but for God's sake, this is traumatic enough for her! (Quinn suddenly emerges with purplish-blue ink staining her finger tips, which she gazes at with disgust.) QUINN: *Gross*. I don't know how I'm gonna get this stuff off. (Helen and Jake leap up simultaneously and hug her.) JAKE: Check her for cigar burns! HELEN: *Jake*. SERGEANT: We'll send your report to one of our detectives. He'll get in touch with you, take your statements -- (He glances from Quinn to Daria.) -- and whatever evidence they, you, and your private detective were able to collect, and your case will be sent to the D.A. (Quinn stiffens. Hearing the cool, mechanical manner in which the sergeant describes her fate, she suddenly has less confidence that her penalty will be light. She is anonymous in this system, at the mercy of people who don't know her and don't care how their decisions shape her future.) (She looks toward Daria to see what she is feeling. Daria remains in her seat, her face expressionless. She has spoken little since their struggle in her room, and nothing at all to Quinn. For a moment, their eyes meet, and Quinn feels Daria's gaze pass through her. She gets a cold sensation in the pit of her stomach.) (cut to: ) SCENE 3 (Morgendorffer residence, night) (Quinn emerges from her bedroom to find Daria just leaving the bathroom. Their eyes meet again, before Daria turns toward her room.) QUINN: Daria. (Her voice is barely above a whisper. Daria continues toward her door, then pauses before opening it, her back turned.) QUINN: I just wanted to say, about what I did to your work... I'm sorry. (She takes a few tentative steps closer.) QUINN: I shouldn't have done it. I was angry... you were *right*, and I knew you were right, and I just wanted to hurt you the way I -- but it was wrong. I was wrong to do that, and if I could go back and do it all over again, I would have just... run out of the room instead. (Her final words hang in the air, followed by silence. Daria turns her face partway toward her, and Quinn sucks in her breath, awaiting her response. Then Daria opens the door to her room and closes it hard behind her.) (cut to: ) SCENE 4 (police interrogation room, a few days later) (Daria sits across from the special investigator at a shiny metal table. The investigator takes notes and uses a tape recorder.) INVESTIGATOR: You say you received this information from Marshall Winsett, to whom you've spoken twice? DARIA: (nods) Yes. (reluctant) However, I'm not so sure it'd be a good idea to interview him just yet. He said he needed to find out if Phelps was stealing again and was concerned that if too many people knew, Phelps could get tipped off. INVESTIGATOR: Well let's put it this way -- right now, we're investigating a crime that doesn't exist. I've interviewed you, your sister, your parents, Mr. Sloane, and reviewed all the evidence collected thus far. While your allegations are damaging, there's no hard evidence of any wrongdoing. DARIA: Not even testimony from some of Phelps's past students? INVESTIGATOR: I went down the list you gave me, but none of them volunteered to say anything except that they had been students in his class. (Daria nods, her brow furrowing.) INVESTIGATOR: So unless Phelps himself reveals incriminating info, we'll need to talk to Mr. Winsett before too long. (cut to: ) SCENE 5 (Lawndale High classroom, late morning the next day) (Phelps is in an empty classroom in the midst of his prep period. He looks up to see two police officers approaching him.) (Dissolve to a short time later, where the two officers and Phelps now surround a lectern. One officer pulls out some large colored photographs and lays them on the lectern. Phelps's cool demeanor betrays a hint of surprise.) OFFICER 1: Ring a bell? (The photographs, with crystal-clear close-up views, portray Phelps and Quinn in the teachers' parking lot, right after their lunch. Quinn's face looks tense and frightened, while Phelps's looks hard, determined.) PHELPS: Ms. Morgendorffer and I had just returned from lunch that day. OFFICER 2: These were taken by the Morgendorffers' private detective. PHELPS: (brows raise) Really. OFFICER 2: Any reason why they might have been suspicious? PHELPS: With the Morgendorffers, what reason do they need? I'm afraid that family has a lot of problems. Ms. Li could provide a full account of their troubled history at this school. OFFICER 1: The girl looks a little upset. PHELPS: Unfortunately, the problems of the family extend to her as well. There's a lovely girl deep down inside, but she's covered over by paranoia and emotional extremes. She needs help. OFFICER 1: What did you two talk about during lunch? PHELPS: I told her gently that I'd found evidence of her cheating in class and hoped that she would come forward and admit the truth. OFFICER 2: And how does this transcript factor in? (He removes it from his satchel and reads.) "So you'll give me your answer tomorrow?... Something is different. You are afraid... I just don't think I need that kind of money." (Phelps's face grows a shade paler.) OFFICER 2: "My parents can pay... So you do believe your sister... I just don't think I need that money." OFFICER 1: What money? PHELPS: I had mentioned that, if she stopped cheating and became serious about school, she might be able to win a scholarship. She still couldn't face up to her actions and took offense. OFFICER 2: She said "that kind" of money. PHELPS: Scholarship money. OFFICER 2: What did you mean by "so you do believe your sister"? PHELPS: I believe I meant that she sided with her sister in thinking that she wasn't bright enough to go after a scholarship. She's afraid to take a risk, prove her wrong. OFFICER 1: (skeptical) Scholarship money. Not stolen money? PHELPS: Yes. (cut to: ) SCENE 6 (Phelps's home, evening) (Phelps walks into the house looking pale and winded. He frowns, sensing something is different, then walks toward his office. There, he freezes at the sight that greets him beyond the open door.) (His office has been ransacked, with drawers open and files and papers scattered everywhere. Standing in the middle of the chaos is Marshall.) PHELPS: Marshall?! What in God's name --?! MARSHALL: (quiet) The police were here, Alfred. (Phelps's sudden urge to strike his partner dies upon hearing these words, and his anger is replaced by panic. Marshall, meanwhile, looks at the mess with a calm expression, stooped over slightly, his arms almost limp.) PHELPS: While you were home?? I talked to them this morning, but didn't say anything that would merit a search warrant -- MARSHALL: They came to see me early this afternoon. (A long beat of silence, as Phelps stares into his partner's eyes.) PHELPS: And you... you told them...? (Marshall pauses before nodding. Phelps's expression becomes quietly devastated, then reddens with anger and disbelief.) PHELPS: You told them. You... you... but still, that wouldn't have been enough, unless... you went through my things. (His eyes narrow.) You know that taking someone's private possessions is considered "burglary," don't you? Stolen evidence is inadmissible. MARSHALL: Oh *please*! I didn't go through your precious private office, and God knows you now keep everything under lock and key anyway. Last time I checked, the storage bins in the backyard were equally mine. (Phelps looks at him, stunned.) MARSHALL: You may be the brilliant mathematician in this household, but I can work a few puzzles of my own. The kind that come from piecing shredded bits of paper together, to form phone records... bank records. It took me a while, but I finally put together enough to offer as evidence. PHELPS: You betrayed me. MARSHALL: You betrayed me, first. You lied to me, Alfred! You said that you were going to stop stealing money, and what do I find?! You've created several bank accounts under Quinn's name, in countries where they don't ask questions. It's because I trusted you that for so long, I didn't ask any, either. PHELPS: *Trust*! You call that trust?! MARSHALL: You're a clever, relentless man, Alfred, but even you're not foolproof. You keep taking such risks, you're going to get caught -- if not by me, then someone else. (Phelps's rage boils to the surface and he raises his hand.) MARSHALL: Oh yes, add "battery" to the list of charges against you. Then you're sure to be found innocent! (Phelps lowers his hand slowly, probing his partner's face with new eyes.) PHELPS: I must say, Marshall, I'm not used to you showing such spirit. MARSHALL: It's what comes from having nothing to lose. After the police left, I turned in my resignation to Fielding. I'll be moving back to Highbury to oversee one of my family's businesses. PHELPS: You're... MARSHALL: I'm leaving you, Alfred. (Phelps shrinks backward a little, looking stricken. As enraged as he is with his partner, the thought of not having him at his side frightens and saddens him.) PHELPS: Without even trying to mend our differences?! MARSHALL: You said it yourself: We haven't been close for a very long time. I've tried to love you the way you needed to be loved, but it never seemed to be enough. We might as well face the inevitable. PHELPS: Have you considered what would happen if your family learned the truth about you?? MARSHALL: If they refuse to take me in... so be it. Better to start over than live with the constant fear of saying the wrong thing, lest I get threatened or told I'm worthless. (He starts to leave the office, but Phelps blocks his way.) PHELPS: (trembling) I've been waiting for this moment, you know, ever since you betrayed me the first time. You don't think there are skeletons in your closet that I could expose that would make your homosexuality look like a blessing?? (Marshall looks at him sadly.) MARSHALL: Don't you see, Alfred? It's already too late. I've already lost too much of myself over the past fifteen years -- there's nothing left for you to take. (He walks quietly past Phelps, who looks around his office once more before following him out into the hall.) MARSHALL: But you can still do the right thing for the girl you once said you loved like a daughter. When they charge you, plead guilty so she won't be put through the trauma of having to testify against you. (Phelps looks surprised at his use of "when." Then he notices light outside the hall window.) MARSHALL: I know you care. I can tell you still care, about her at least. (As the red and blue police lights outside grow more distinct, Phelps's face becomes thoughtful. For a few moments he says nothing, but at the sound of tires in the driveway, his shoulders stiffen. He looks at Marshall with a sad, almost gentle expression.) PHELPS: I was a born fighter. I'm afraid all I know how to do is fight 'til the end. Good-bye, my love. (cut to: ) SCENE 7 (Jake's apartment, morning, a few days later) (Shot of a giant television screen with a local anchorman.) ANCHORMAN: ... a well-known high school teacher has just been released on bail after pleading "not guilty" to charges of larceny. Alfred Phelps will appear in court on an unscheduled date to... (Jake stands in front of the giant T.V., paused in mid-shave.) JAKE: UCK! (cut to: ) SCENE 8 (Morgendorffer residence, shortly after) (Helen stands over the kitchen counter, phone to her ear, looking down at a spread-out newspaper.) HELEN: Yes, Jake, the D.A.'s office just phoned, and it's in the local paper, too, *dammit*. Those media vultures printed Mr. Phelps's side of the story practically verbatim! It seems we're a shattered family that likes to toss around frivolous lawsuits, while Quinn is a scorned student out for revenge. (Jake's angry ranting rises up through the phone.) HELEN: Now calm down -- we can fight this. We'll have a coordinated response ready for the next round of articles, and there *will* be a next round. At least this one didn't print our names. (cut to: ) SCENE 9 (Lawndale high, girls bathroom, a couple days later) (Cut to shot of Tori, Brooke, Angie, and Lisa congregated in front of the bathroom mirror.) TORI: That "student" has *got* to be Quinn Morgendorffer. She was always hanging around him. BROOKE: I know. It was creepy. TORI: I heard she performed "favors" for him. (The other girls gasp in unison.) LISA: Quinn?! No! BROOKE: Isn't Mr. Phelps gay?! TORI: Some gay guys have a bit of straightness in them. I heard that he totally let her cheat on tests as long as she blew him once a week. GIRLS: EWWW!! ANGIE: That can't be true -- Quinn doesn't even like to wear low-cut tops. BROOKE: But the news *did* say that the student got busted for cheating right before she turned him in. TORI: How else would you explain how Quinn got all those A-pluses? I mean, the girl's not exactly the sharpest nail in the salon. (Shot of Quinn sitting on a toilet inside a bathroom stall, her legs drawn up against her chest. She fights back tears.) (cut to: ) SCENE 10 (hallway, a short time later) (Quinn walks down the hall, her eyes low, trying not to see the curious, amused, sometimes hostile stares of her peers. A tall, forty-something man approaches.) MAN: Miss? Do you have time for a few questions? (Quinn recognizes him as a reporter and shakes her head frantically, before rushing into a classroom for refuge. There, she runs right into Barry, her former mathletics team mate. He looks at her with worried eyes.) BARRY: Say it ain't so, Quinn! Say it ain't so! QUINN: Barry... BARRY: You didn't really cheat in our mathletics tournaments, did you?? QUINN: That's just a rumor! BARRY: But everyone keeps saying -- (Just then Skylar comes up behind him and shoves him out of the way.) SKYLAR: (grins) So Quinn, you busted your sugar-daddy. QUINN: Shut *up*, you jerk! I was *not* having sex with him! SKYLAR: What happened? Did the sugar dry up? (Before Quinn can respond, a couple of students appear behind Skylar.) GIRL: (angry) You ratted out Phelps just because you're unhappy with your grades?? Don't you ever think about anyone but yourself?? GUY: *Some* of us think he's the best teacher we've ever had. QUINN: I -- GIRL: He's writing me a recommendation, and I *swear*, if you mess that up -- SANDI: (O.S.) You'll what? Teach her how to accessorize? Hasn't she already suffered enough? (Sandi appears just behind Quinn, and gives her a gentle nudge.) SANDI: Come on, Quinn, you don't need these losers. (Outside, a short distance away, Jane observes the goings on with a raised brow. She joins Daria at her locker.) JANE: Looks like Quinn's getting it pretty rough. DARIA: Now she knows how it feels. JANE: You heard the sexual rumors, right? DARIA: What about them? (She turns and faces Jane with her arms crossed, eyes cold.) You think I should rush over and defend her, forgetting that my reputation is about as high as stewed cabbage right now? She never did a damned thing to defend me. The only reason she apologized for ripping my stories was to see herself as a good person, so why should I care about her? JANE: I never said you should defend her. Hell, after what she did to your stuff, you've earned the right to hate her forever. (Daria's eyes widen with surprise, having expected Jane to be Devil's Advocate.) JANE: But I thought you would be savoring the Phelps scandal. He's finally getting what's coming to him, and the lion's share of the credit goes to you. DARIA: Funny: I thought I'd be savoring it, too. (Her expression darkens.) But since the Phelps story broke, not only has my family been on lockdown, but my attempts to expose the special program have been pushed to the back burner. JANE: What about the psych exam? DARIA: There's no sign of whether I'll be absolved of anything before I turn in my college applications. (She sees a familiar form pass in the distance.) DARIA: And to top it off, the jerk is still teaching here -- with Ms. Li's endorsement. JANE: Probably hoping to preserve the winning glory of Llllllawndale High until his conviction. DARIA: Which could be months from now. (sighs) My mother wants Quinn and me to be tutored at home until the trial's over. She's afraid that the combination of student hostility, media attention, and Ms. Li's support for Phelps will make our lives intolerable. (cut to: ) SCENE 11 (Helen's bedroom, night) (Quinn lies on Jake's side of the bed, gazing at the ceiling, while Helen sleeps beside her. Unable to sleep in her own room, she has sought refuge in her parents' bed, only to find herself wide awake.) QUINN: Mom? (Helen stirs from her light sleep and tilts her head toward her.) HELEN: Mmm... what's the matter, honey? QUINN: I can't stop thinking about the trial. (Helen holds out an arm and Quinn presses against her side, all of her teenage inhibitions giving way.) QUINN: All the media attention's freaking me out. I never thought there'd be a time I *didn't* want my picture taken -- except for when I wore a teal scrunchie with an *aqua-marine* mini skirt, but that's another story. HELEN: Sweetie, I know it's scary, but I'm very proud of the way you and your sister have conducted yourselves. Just remember not to tell anyone *anything* unless we as a family have decided it would be all right. QUINN: Dad's been coming over a lot lately. HELEN: He's concerned about you girls. QUINN: Do you think you'll ever...? (Helen kisses the top of Quinn's head.) HELEN: Get some rest, honey. (Disappointed by her non-answer, Quinn sighs quietly.) QUINN: I don't want to testify against Mr. Phelps, Mom. HELEN: I promise we'll make it as comfortable for you as possible. QUINN: Can you make me forget him? HELEN: Quinn... QUINN: I just think about the things we did together, stuff he would say. And I wonder if he ever really *meant* them in the first place. One minute I try to think of ways I can win him back, and the next I want to kill him. I can't believe I trusted him so much. I told him everything about me. (Her tears wet Helen's arm.) QUINN: I can't even do math now because of him. Every time I try to work out a problem, I see his face. HELEN: Quinn, can I ask you something? *Why* did you trust him so much? (Quinn glances up at her.) HELEN: I'd agree, he did a lot of good things for you, but what made him so important that you cared more about his opinion than ours? (Quinn is silent as she ponders for a moment.) QUINN: I didn't care about it *more*. I mean... I told you, it just felt like he put me first. He made me feel like I could do anything. He was the first person to tell me I was smart and really make me believe it. HELEN: That's too bad... given that the whole family thinks you're smart. QUINN: You do? HELEN: (slight exasperation) Quinn, don't you remember what I told when we first talked about you getting glasses? That they could expand your choices in life and help you achieve your academic potential? Why would I say that if I didn't think it were possible? QUINN: I guess I thought you were saying that so I'd get the glasses, because that's what mothers say. I guess I *wasn't* thinking. (Her eyes glistening, she turns away and buries her cheek in the pillow.) HELEN: Shhhh... what matters is that it's true. QUINN: He just had this *plan* for me, and all I had to do was follow it. I *knew* something was wrong when he told me to forget all my other classes and focus on math. (A sob wells in her throat.) I believed him... I believed him over Daria... HELEN: Honey, let it go until morning. QUINN: Mom, she hates me. Ever since I ripped up her stories, she acts like I don't exist anymore. HELEN: Did you really expect her to forgive you that quickly? QUINN: No... but I don't know how to make her like me again. I can't bring her stories back because some of the paper got lost when I ran away. Mom, I swear, I'd do anything! I'm the reason she's in so much trouble at school, just because she wanted to get me out of Mr. Phelps's class. HELEN: She did go out on a limb for you, didn't she? QUINN: And I've been such a jerk to her this whole time. She doesn't deserve to have me for a sister, but maybe... if I could just get her to like me again. (She sniffles, and Helen strokes her hair.) HELEN: Sweetie, all I can advise is for you to show that you care about her. Really pay attention to what's happening in her life and be ready to give her support when she needs it. Then maybe, over time, her anger toward you won't be as strong. (Quinn nods, trying to take comfort in this thought. The stroking of her hair soothes her nerves further, making her drowsy.) QUINN: She shouldn't have to pay for my mistake... (cut to: ) SCENE 12 (Daria's room, a few days later) (From the hallway, Daria turns the knob and finds, to her surprise, that it turns easily. Having kept the door locked at all times, she greets this development with alarm. She pushes the door open and finds Quinn seated in the middle of the floor, surrounded by piles of books. Absorbed in reading a notebook, she doesn't notice Daria's presence until her shadow darkens the pages.) QUINN: Daria... DARIA: Get out. QUINN: Daria, I'm sorry I came in, but I -- DARIA: Get *out*! (She grabs the notebook out of Quinn's lap with one hand and her wrist with the other, squeezing it tightly.) QUINN: You know that journal you were looking for, that one you kept when you were on that underground paper --?! DARIA: You'll never respect anything that isn't yours, not even my door! (She yanks Quinn's wrist in the direction of the door. Quinn grabs at Daria's arm and tries to stop her.) QUINN: Ow, I found it, it talks about Lowman's, OW! DARIA: GET THE HELL OUT! QUINN: Daria, look! It could help you with that Mr. Estr-- owOW*OW* -- would you please just LOOK AT IT?! (Daria lets go of Quinn's wrist and gazes at the pages she had been viewing. Shock washes over her as she sees writing about her last encounter with Damien, his promise to print the correction of her Lowman's article. She looks at the back cover.) DARIA: Where did you find this? QUINN: It was in one of your stacks. DARIA: I searched through every book in each stack three times. QUINN: Yeah, but in this one, your journal stuff is stuck between two other things -- some essays on the meaning of life and weird drawings of the teachers. I almost didn't look far enough. (Daria reads further, almost trembling with relief.) QUINN: I remembered how you said that if I really cared, I would go the extra mile and sneak into your private life. That's the only reason I picked your lock, Daria -- I wouldn't have done it otherwise. DARIA: I may have to reconsider your "right to privacy" argument. (She looks down at her sister, who is trying to shake the feeling back into her wrist. With a stab of fear, Daria remembers Helen's disappointed comment about her being a "bully.") QUINN: If you show this to Mr. Estrada, he'll *know* you never meant to lie about his store, right?? And he'll drop his lawsuit and give the school back its contract?? DARIA: I don't know. (A feeling of relief washes over her.) The most important thing is that I wrote it... (cut to: ) SCENE 13 (Lane residence, the next afternoon) (Jane lets Daria in.) JANE: So? What's the word? DARIA: He has agreed to drop the lawsuit and reinstate the school's contract. JANE: *Mazel tov*, Morgendorffer! (Daria lowers her eyes.) JANE: But...? DARIA: The psych evaluation is still on my record. Mr. Estrada phoned Ms. Li about reinstating the contract, but when my mom spoke to her later, she said that the results of the evaluation were too serious for her to dismiss them. JANE: Damn. DARIA: It was so predictable, I'm not even upset. Getting rid of the psych exam would remove a major barrier to my return to normal life, and Ms. Li is still too suspicious of my intentions to allow it. (She walks upstairs and Jane follows.) DARIA: And you know what? Maybe she should be. I have an idea. (cut to: ) SCENE 14 (Jane's room, shortly after) (Daria sits at Jane's computer station, her online journal on the screen before her. She opens up a text box.) DARIA: My story, Quinn's story, they're both connected, and not just by Phelps. The common thread is corruption, abuse of authority, and out-of-control petty vengeance. So why not write an opinion piece that reflects that connection? That way, by being married to the dramatic, high-profile story of Phelps, the story of student abuse in the program can finally get the attention it deserves. JANE: You think you'll get more people to read your web journal that way? DARIA: I can if I send links to the media. It's what I was planning to do even before the Phelps scandal broke open. If he can use the media to shame our family, I can use it to get justice. JANE: But wouldn't that mean blowing your family's cover for the three people who still don't know? DARIA: Not if I talked about the connection in general terms. It's not just of interest to me, but to everyone. JANE: Then count me in. My college tour with Tom is back on after some delays, but I've got a week before I go. I'll help spread the word. (Daria types some sentences...) (cut to: ) SCENE 15 (Daria's room, later) (Daria scrolls down her article, reading over the last sentences.) DARIA: (V.O.) ... So the next time you hear about some problem child being put on permanent detention, before that smile of satisfaction crosses your lips, ask yourself: Is he really the menace, or was it just easier for people in charge to label him as one? And more importantly, should it be that easy? (Satisfied, she copies the link to a pre-existing e-mail with several newspaper addresses on top, along with a prewritten introduction, and presses Send. She then glances down at a piece of paper on her desk -- the names of Phelps's former students, along with some addresses and phone numbers. Daria contemplates for a moment, before scrolling to the top of her screen and hitting "Print.") (cut to: ) SCENE 16 (Morgendorffer kitchen, later) (Quinn walks into the kitchen and sit down at the kitchen table, her unopened textbooks in front of her, wearing a defeated expression. Jake and Helen follow, all three having just returned from the District Attorney's office.) QUINN: I know the D.A. wants me to keep everything a secret, but it's so hard. Everyone keeps asking me what happened. I'm afraid I'll slip up and then -- HELEN: For the last time, honey, Mr. Phelps isn't going to get away with anything. The evidence is against him and that Mr. Winsett has agreed to testify. The only thing he's ensured by pleading not guilty is his own jail sentence. QUINN: I don't see why you won't let us go back to school, then. With us gone, it just means that people are gonna make up their own stories about what happened. (Daria enters the kitchen.) DARIA: As much as I welcome time away from my idiot peers, I'd have to agree. (Quinn's eyes widen. Since Daria regained her journal, she has been more civil towards her, and Quinn hopes that her agreement is a sign that their relationship is returning to normal.) HELEN: Girls, I understand, but with the current environment -- QUINN: I'm not afraid of seeing Mr. Phelps, Mom. In fact, I kind of *want* to see him. HELEN: Honey, you heard what the D.A. said -- you don't want him to find any more ammunition against you. DARIA: That might make sense for Quinn, but since I don't have any valuable testimony to give, why keep *me* away? HELEN: He could threaten you, blackmail you -- DARIA: You mean like before? HELEN: If he was capable of those things *before* he got arrested, I don't even want to think of what he would do now. I just want you to be safe. DARIA: Point taken. Except that he did most of his damage from a distance. (Helen bites her lip, taking this into account.) HELEN: Look girls, this will all be over before we know it. Meanwhile, Quinn, I'm sure if you just focus, you'll be able to do math just fine on your own. QUINN: (slumps over) It hasn't happened yet. JAKE: Hell, sweetie, your old dad can give you help if you need it. (Quinn looks at him, recalls the help he gave her when she first started tackling math. Her eyes soften.) QUINN: Thanks, Dad. HELEN: And while we want you to focus on *all* of your classes, math is the shining star on your academic record. Many excellent colleges are looking to admit young women into their math and science programs. QUINN: (soft) Not Cambridge. HELEN: What? QUINN: Mom, I still haven't been cleared of cheating. And even if I am, who's gonna believe my grades if my math teacher turns out to be a criminal?? HELEN: We'll tackle one thing at a time. Tomorrow's our meeting with your principal and the superintendent over the charges against you and Daria. QUINN: Do you think they'll agree to drop everything?? HELEN: We'll certainly put pressure on them. Meanwhile, we can think of ways for you to *broaden* your math experience beyond school. Maybe you could take an extension course at the local college. JAKE: Or how 'bout an internship at some hotshot accounting or engineering firm? HELEN: That's an excellent idea. Amy's boyfriend is an engineer -- maybe his firm has a summer outreach program for high school students. QUINN: But she'll have a baby by then. Would she really want to help me? HELEN: It never hurts to find out. DARIA: That leaves one issue unsettled. HELEN: What? DARIA: What about *our* future? JAKE: What do you mean, kiddo? DARIA: Me, Quinn, you and Mom? Does this recent display of unity point to a possible reconciliation down the road? (Helen, Jake, and Quinn stare at her. Daria feels her cheeks grow hot, but feels relieved to have the question out in the open. Helen looks from Daria to Quinn, whose eyes widen and whose expression looks as if it is trying not to be too hopeful.) HELEN: Well, girls... Dad and I have been spending a lot of time together, true, but... JAKE: There's, um, "together" for us, and there's "together" for you... QUINN: So which is it?? DARIA: Just tell us. We have enough uncertainty to deal with as is. (Helen then glances at Jake, and he nods a little, telling her to let their daughters in on what they've discussed.) HELEN: I'll be honest, girls: We don't have plans to get back together anytime soon. While it's true that we've developed a rapport, we still have a lot of things we need to work out. There's our mutual need to grow, as we've mentioned, but also... your father and I tend to hurt each other a lot. Emotionally, if not physically. JAKE: We've always been that way, but it's gotten worse over time. HELEN: To the point where it's worse for us to be together than apart. Until we can figure out how to change that, we'll remain separated. (Daria and Quinn look at Jake, who nods in agreement.) DARIA: (quiet) So you're getting a divorce? HELEN: We don't have plans for that, either. For now, things are just going to remain as they are. QUINN: (flat) Which means Dad's still dating his girlfriend. You'll probably start dating, too, won't you, Mom? HELEN: I know that it's not what you two wanted to hear. We just want to be honest with you. The most important thing is that no matter what happens, we love you both very much and we'll do everything we can to be there for you. JAKE: Are you okay with that? (Their daughters glance at each other, a little weary. Helen was correct -- this wasn't what they'd hoped to hear. Daria considers for a moment, before realizing that the gnawing pain she has felt since the separation is no longer as strong.) DARIA: Yes. (Quinn can still feel the pain inside her, even though she no longer hates her parents and believes them to be sincere. After glancing at their concerned faces, she forces herself to nod.) QUINN: Yeah. Sure. (Helen strokes her hair. Quinn tries to smile.) (cut to: ) SCENE 17 (Superintendent Cartwright's office, next afternoon) (Helen and Jake sit across from Ms. Li and Superintendent Cartwright.) CARTWRIGHT: Mr. and Mrs. Morgendorffer, given your situation, I'm sure you don't want to be tangled up in lawsuits for the next several months. HELEN: You're right -- exonerate our children of their supposed crimes and we'd be happy to put the whole thing behind us. JAKE: Damn *straight*! MS. LI: Mr. Cartwright, clearly these are people willing to abdicate annnny responsibility for seeing their children as *less* than perfect. HELEN: You talk of "abdicating responsibility," Ms. Li -- what about yours?? Since when is it a principal's job to side with the faculty before considering the evidence?! MS. LI: What other evidence did I need to examine to determine that your daughter Daria has a negative agenda towards my school, Mrs. Morgendorffer?! HELEN: The kind that revealed your psychological evaluation to be a dangerous farce. Two other psychologists have met with Daria since then and have judged her to be completely mentally sound! MS. LI: You think you can sway me with your cherry-picked professionals?! Mrs. Manson has a solid reputation, dating back at least fifteeeen years! CARTWRIGHT: (nods) It's true. MS. LI: While your daughter has continued to display her true agenda in that online tabloid of hers! HELEN: So you associate free speech with mental instability?! (cut to: ) SCENE 18 (Morgendorffer driveway, at the same time) (Quinn slides into the Jetta and lays down a sheet of paper on the passenger-side seat, which contains an address and directions printed off of a web page. She gazes at the paper with some reservation, before turning the key in the ignition and backing out into the street.) (cut to: ) SCENE 19 (Superintendent Cartwright's office, at the same time) CARTWRIGHT: Ms. Li, perhaps we can arrange to waive Daria Morgendorffer's evaluation in exchange for her agreement to cease her negative critiques of your school. MS. LI: It would be a start. HELEN: No it wouldn't -- it would be blackmail. Why should she have to surrender her rights to get herself off the hook for someone *else's* negligence?? Besides, if the special program is nearly as bad as described, I'd say she's doing the school a *favor* by exposing it. CARTWRIGHT: Yes... (His suddenly wary expression suggests that he has harbored some doubts and Helen's comment has only deepened them.) MS. LI: (nervous) It's just a little... extra supervision... for those who need it. HELEN: We'll accept nothing less than for her evaluation to be stricken quickly and permanently from her record, with no threats of further intimidation. JAKE: And what about Quinn?! My little girl isn't some lousy cheater! I've worked with her -- I know what she can do! CARTWRIGHT: One at a time -- HELEN: Let her take an exam given by a reputable third party and she'll prove that she really *did* earn those grades in math. MS. LI: One independent test would do nothing to erase the cloud of suspicion, over your daughter's head. HELEN: Oh *please* -- those answer keys wouldn't give *any* indication as to when or *why* Quinn used them. She could have written on them *after* the tests in order to see where she went wrong. MS. LI: What would Mr. Phelps gain from falsely accusing a student? On the other hand, what would your *daughter* gain from lying about her grades?! JAKE: *Hey*, you listen to me! I spent months working with her on math, and I would know if she didn't get it! But she *did* get it -- better than I could. She solved problems like it was the most natural thing in the world and after that she always wanted harder ones. Does that sound like a lousy cheating fink to *you*?! HELEN: So before you make such revolting accusations, Ms. Li, consider your source. CARTWRIGHT: Mrs. Morgendorffer, "innocent until proven guilty" applies to teachers as well as students. (cut to: ) SCENE 20 (driving, at the same time) (Quinn glances down at the directions again to make sure she's going the right way, as the narrower, woodsy roads take her beyond the Lawndale city limits.) (cut to: ) SCENE 21 (Superintendent Cartwright's office, at the same time) HELEN: Given Mr. Phelps's ruthless reputation, allegations that he's *used students* to steal money ought to at least give one pause. MS. LI: You over-coddling parents -- if a teacher isn't sucking up to your child, you always try to tear him down! Never mind that he's done more to send students to top-level colleges than annnnny other teacher at this sorry spitball factory! He's brought more *honor*, prestige, and accolades than this school has ever known! In the balance, I think that matters more to people than one student's wounded feelings. JAKE: What's the point of some stupid awards if your students are getting hurt?! MS. LI: A student can't be handheld through life, Mr. Morgendorffer! HELEN: Funny that you mention "people," Ms. Li, because I've been in touch with a few parents who have read about Mr. Phelps's alleged misdeeds, and they're nervous. They want assurance that you've been exercising the proper oversight, and they're prepared to hold you accountable if you haven't. MS. LI: I refuuuuse to give in to threats. HELEN: Do you believe in this man so strongly, you'd be willing to stand by him as more details spill out, in the face of increasing parental scrutiny?? If he's found guilty, are you confident that you could convince people you did *everything* possible to ensure that he was treating his students appropriately?? MS. LI: (to Cartwright) Do you *see* what I've had to put up with?! HELEN: I'll admit that we, too, were taken in by Mr. Phelps. If it weren't for Daria, I might never have given him another look. JAKE: (disturbed) Me neither... HELEN: That was a failure on our part, but then, *we* didn't have authority over him. Who was responsible for his background check and his monthly reviews? Who gets to veto his decisions?? And, if you're wrong about Mr. Phelps's innocence, are you so confident that the *rest* of your decisions would withstand scrutiny?? (Ms. Li's face suddenly grows very pale, except for the redness of her nostrils.) (cut to: ) SCENE 22 (driving, shortly after) (After driving a ways through the woodsy setting, Quinn reaches a row of large houses on quiet, leafy lots. She quickly spots a familiar car in front of one of them.) (cut to: ) SCENE 23 (Lawndale High parking lot, at the same time) (Helen and Jake walk back to their respective cars, Jake looking jubilant and Helen grimly satisfied.) JAKE: Wow Helen, you can put your fears about your A game to rest. You not only brought your A game, you brought your A plus-plus-plus game! HELEN: It *did* feel good to watch that woman crumble. God knows you did your part to help, Jake. Now the rest is up to Mr. Cartwright. I watched him struggle in there -- he seemed very distressed about what's happening. JAKE: If he decides to overrule Ms. Li -- HELEN: Let's not get our hopes up just yet. JAKE: Even so, after all of our gloom and doom, we deserve to have some fun! Why don't I follow you back to the house, and we can take the girls to dinner?? I'll buy. (As Helen turns toward Jake, their faces are very close. After a slight pause, Jake leans forward, his lips seeking Helen's. Recognizing this a moment before they reach, Helen draws away. Jake straightens up, his cheeks coloring with embarrassment.) HELEN: That's very sweet of you, Jake, but I already have plans tonight. JAKE: (stiff) Oh really? With who? HELEN: Greg. (She says his name with a mixture of discomfort and assertiveness.) HELEN: He wanted to meet with me to discuss my art. You know that he's been hanging on to my sculptures this whole time? He wants to display them, along with some of his other students' work, in an exhibit next month in the Lawndale Art Museum. (Helen's eyes brighten as her emotions overtake her, while the emotion slowly leaves Jake's face.) HELEN: I thought they'd been destroyed. I was so sure I would never get to see them again. When Greg told me what had happened, it was like I'd gotten a new lease on life. I never realized how much they meant to me, and to think he'd kept them... (She looks at Jake and notes his expression. Understanding his shock and disappointment, she speaks in a gentle, yet unapologetic, tone.) HELEN: I'd meant to say something before, but attending to the girls' problems caused it to slip my mind. (She lays a comforting hand on Jake's arm.) But I'm sure the girls would love it if you took them out for the evening. (Jake smiles grimly.) (cut to: ) SCENE 24 (Phelps's house, at the same time) (Quinn sits in the car for several seconds, debating whether or not to go to the door, hoping that the one whom she came to see isn't home. At long last, she opens the driver's side door and stands, then proceeds toward the house.) (Once at the doorstep, she reaches over to ring the doorbell, then stops. After a few seconds of indecision, she holds up her hand to knock weakly. Just then, the door flies open, revealing Mr. Phelps. His sharp blue eyes show a hint of surprise at her presence, even as his expression tells her that he expected to come all along.) PHELPS: (coolly) What sort of spying do you plan to do this time? QUINN: I'm not spying on you. PHELPS: Who sent you? QUINN: No one. I just... PHELPS: Let it be known that any attempts to intimidate or threaten me will be reported immediately to my attorney and presented as evidence. (Quinn's mouth opens, but she cannot find any words, feeling torn between the fondness she felt for him and the newer sensations of fear and dread. Phelps gazes at her for one more moment before he starts to close the door.) QUINN: (blurts) Did you ever care about me? PHELPS: Don't be silly. I care about all of my students. (With that, he quietly and firmly shuts the door in her face. Quinn blinks, her eyes wide, unable to absorb what happened for a moment or two. Then she feels her pulse race, as disbelief and rage overtake her.) QUINN: Did you really think I was special?! Did you really think I could do big things?! Or was that just a lie?! (The door remains cool and impervious, like its owner. Quinn's stomach muscles clench and her knees tremble.) QUINN: I trusted you. I loved... (She stands there for a moment longer, before turning to run back toward her car. Once there, she fights to keep her hands steady enough to insert the key into the lock.) (Unbeknownst to her, Phelps has continued to view her through the small windows at the top of his door. He is taken by the last glimpse of her wide blue eyes, crystallized in an expression of rage, sadness, confusion, and betrayal. With shock, he realizes that Quinn never stopped caring about him until this moment. As her car wails off in the distance, he turns slowly and heads toward the kitchen.) (The kitchen appears noticeably barren -- a sign of Marshall's permanent absence. Phelps walks over to the table, sits down, and stares dully about the room before his gaze trails off into space.) (cut to: ) SCENE 25 (Jake's apartment, a few days later) (Quinn sits at the dining room table, gazing down at her math homework with a worn, unenthused expression, trying desperately to rekindle some of the old spark. Just as she is about to push the papers aside with frustration, she sees Jake lay down a few pencils on the table.) QUINN: Pencil... cozies?? Dad, I didn't think you still had these. JAKE: Oh *sure* -- I kept them around in case you needed them. I know they don't work magic, but no one who looks at them can stay depressed for very long, right? (Quinn picks one up and turns it around slowly.) QUINN: Right... JAKE: I know you'll work everything out. (Quinn looks at him with a smile, for one moment daring to believe that he could be right. She then gazes back down at her work and closes her eyes for several seconds, letting the feeling come back to her slowly. Her concentration is finally broken by a knock on the door, and she feels a shock to her stomach when Daria lets in a tall, thin man about twenty years old.) (cut to: ) SCENE 26 (dining room table, soon after) (Quinn and the young man, Jon, sit by themselves. Quinn feels slightly nauseous.) JON: Sorry to startle you like this. QUINN: It's okay -- my parents told me you'd be coming by. JON: I was thinking about testifying against Mr. Phelps ever since I learned about the trial. Then I got a copy of your sister's journal and that decided it. I was scared of what would happen, but I would have hated myself if I didn't... even more than I do already. QUINN: You really helped Mr. Phelps take money? (Jon nods, looking desolate.) JON: I designed the whole damn program. We never dismantled it, so it's probably still good to use, with some modifications. I knew stealing was wrong, but I let myself think that it was okay, that my parents' friends had money to burn, and I would use it... (awkward laugh.) ...for good. I don't know... I just wanted to make him proud of me. He had a way of making you think that it wasn't wrong. (Daria eavesdrops on the conversation from the living room, her expression showing a bit of concern.) QUINN: Did you know any of the other students who helped him? JON: A few. Two of them have told me they're leaning toward testifying, but no guarantees just yet. I guess that's why I came over here -- to thank you. If you hadn't chosen to go forward, I might never have found the nerve. (Quinn lowers her eyes.) QUINN: You don't need to thank me. JON: Yes I do -- you and your sister. When I was in high school, I wasn't half as mature. I had no friends... no one who understood me anyway. I didn't have any perspective like I do now. Mr. Phelps was the only person who seemed to get me and I wasn't about to give him a reason to walk away. QUINN: (whisper) You want to do stuff that will make him happy. JON: So you do things you wouldn't normally do. Hurt the people you love... (Quinn nods, tears filling her eyes.) QUINN: And it was all based on a lie. All of it... (cut to: ) SCENE 27 (Lane residence, Sunday evening) (Daria follows Jane into her bedroom, sees an open duffel bag and clothes strewn all over the bed. Tom sits in the computer chair.) JANE: You've got this huge round of ammo against Phelps -- how can she *not* be thrilled? DARIA: For Quinn, it's like finding out that the boyfriend who thought she was "the one" was saying it to a whole bunch of other girls, and she's just the latest in the string. Her confidence about anything she does is near zero. TOM: I can't blame her. I wasn't even a favorite of his and I'm still in shock. JANE: Not as much as your mother, I'll bet. TOM: (to Daria) You should have heard her during our trip up to Bromwell. Between this and Mr. Winsett's resignation, she was talking nonstop about Fielding being "shaken at its core" and its reputation going downhill. JANE: But enough about that -- what happened with your parents' big meeting?? Has Ms. Li caved in and nuked your psych evaluation?? DARIA: Mr. Cartwright is supposed to look into the special program next week. Who knows what Pollyanna blend of revisionism will await him? JANE: But *your* evaluation -- DARIA: Is still on my record until *our* court date or, preferably, until we reach an agreement outside of court. JANE: (disappointed) You'd think Ms. Li would have softened a *little* by now. DARIA: When it comes to Phelps, her denial is even stronger than Quinn's. TOM: Maybe she'll change her tune if more Fielding students come forward. JANE: Ensuring your mother's heart attack at long last. DARIA: From your tone, I take it all wasn't spiffy on your college tour? JANE: (grumbles) That's putting it mildly... TOM: (annoyed) Jane. DARIA: Come on, spill. We could all use the diversion. JANE: Well let's see: Between rubbing elbows with all of the snooty professors nicknamed "Bootsy," "Pingo," and "D.D.," who somehow all managed to be on the lawn tennis team with Tom's father -- TOM: *Jane*. JANE: -- and practically choking to death on the ever-present haze of entitlement, I managed to get my fill of the Ivy League lifestyle, oh... before I arrived. TOM: And of course, she couldn't resist taking out a few casualties with her. JANE: So I told that Professor Woods the school could use some shaking up! TOM: You told him to set one of the buildings on fire. JANE: *Suggested*, as a controlled, dramatic art piece. Like the Freshman Sobriety Center gets a whole lot of use anyway. TOM: And who can forget the way you told the admissions officer at Dartmouth that you had to consult your other personalities to decide which would do the interview?? JANE: Come on, you thought it was funny. You laughed. TOM: Okay, I did. Once. JANE: Besides, it never would have happened if your mother hadn't trapped me into that suck-up fest in the first place. I made it very clear that I was on this trip to observe, which she took as an invitation to shoehorn me into every conversation, telling people I was a high achiever who wanted to know *every* mundane detail about the school. (to Daria.) Told you she hates me. TOM: (amiably) She really, really does. DARIA: Well, I can see you two took this quality time to work on your relationship issues. JANE: Yeah. We worked on our relationship so hard, it broke. DARIA: What?? TOM: We broke up. JANE: You are now looking at Jane the swingin' single. DARIA: And yet you're in each other's presence without strangling one another. TOM: Without the drama of having to be together all the time, fit our competing interests together, we discovered that we get along better as friends. JANE: Imagine that, huh? DARIA: Actually... I can. JANE: So Tom's officially on the market now. DARIA: Meaning? JANE: It's been a long time since you've played the field, Daria. DARIA: Are you setting me up?! TOM: I *told* you, I'm not ready to date someone new yet, Jane! Besides, Daria and I hardly know one another. JANE: You worked together pretty well on exposing the Phelps mystery. TOM: Maybe so, but -- JANE: Listen Tom, I am not gonna be one of those ex-girlfriends whom you like on the surface, but secretly harbor bitter feelings towards. I want to help you transition smoothly to the next phase. TOM: And putting me in a relationship without my permission works *how*? JANE: Okay, fine, it was just an offer. You and Daria can make the ultimate decision yourselves. TOM: *Thank* you. JANE: But I think you two would really work. TOM: (rolls his eyes) Jane... DARIA: This is going to be Trent all over again, isn't it? (Suddenly, an idea hits her.) DARIA: Actually, Tom, I *do* need you for something. JANE: I knew it! DARIA: A favor. TOM: Like what? DARIA: Does your family know any "snooty" professors who teach math? (cut to: ) SCENE 28 (Bromwell University lecture hall, next Saturday morning) (Shot of the outside reveals several impressive stone buildings.) (Inside, a distinguished-looking man, Professor Jameson, enters from the bottom side door, followed by Daria and Quinn. Quinn's steps are hesitant and a few times she casts a doubtful look at Daria.) JAMESON: I don't have much time -- I'm scheduled for a luncheon at 11:30. Take your seats anywhere in the room except next to each other. Which one of you is taking the test again? QUINN: Me. JAMESON: As an alternative to the Advanced Placement exam? QUINN: Kind of. DARIA: Since the Advanced Placement exam is several months away, she wants a test that would show off her skills sooner. JAMESON: You're not going to find an obvious substitute for something as comprehensive as an Advanced Placement exam. QUINN: I know, but your tests sounded just right, like they were hard, but I could do them, and I just wanted to prove that I could. JAMESON: I wouldn't be so sure. My tests are very difficult. QUINN: I... I just want to try. (Jameson looks dubiously at her tense, earnest face.) JAMESON: Do you have a Number Two pencil? QUINN: Yeah, I brought, like, five. And a calculator. JAMESON: You won't need a calculator for this test. QUINN: Oh... okay. (She takes a seat a few rows up from the bottom. Daria sits on the other side of the lecture hall, feeling butterflies in her stomach. Professor Jameson opens up a satchel bag, removes some items. He then walks over to Quinn and hands her a bluebook and some scratch paper.) JAMESON: You can only use these. You can't use your own. QUINN: Oh. Can I...? JAMESON: If you use them up, tell me and I'll give you more. (lays a test on her desk.) Here's my latest midterm. You have ninety minutes to complete it starting... (checks his watch.) *now*. (Quinn looks at him, startled.) QUINN: Um, could I go to the bathroom first? JAMESON: You could, but then you'd have less than ninety minutes. QUINN: But... JAMESON: This is a college midterm. My midterms last ninety minutes. The clock is ticking. QUINN: Oh. Okay. (She opens her blue book and stares at the first page of the test for several seconds, her heart pounding. From where she sits across the room, Daria can tell that her sister is having a hard time grasping the problems. She gets a sick feeling in her stomach and suddenly has no urge to read the book she she brought with her.) (Dissolve to show the passage of time. Quinn is now several pages into the test and on her second blue book. Filled-up pages of scrap paper cover her desk, and some are scattered on the floor below. Quinn's brow is knit with concentration and she is completely oblivious to everything around her. Several rows away, Professor Jameson reads a newspaper. Daria glances up at Quinn from her book for the umpteenth time, then checks her watch.) JAMESON: (remote) Ten minutes... (Dissolve to show more time passage. Quinn is scribbling furiously, her face red, on the last page of the test and of her second blue book.) JAMESON: Ten... nine... eight... seven... (Quinn takes a deep breath, jerks out the last words of her answer.) JAMESON: ... three... two... one. Okay, pencils down. (Quinn collapses her pencil flat on the desk and shuts the cover of her second book. She gasps, trying to catch her breath. Jameson stands up and walks over to her, takes both of her blue books.) JAMESON: I'll give you a few moments to collect yourself before I grade this... (He checks his watch.) Oh good: I should just make it. (He walks back to his spot and removes the answer key from his satchel. Daria stands up and walks over to Quinn, who sits slumped over, absolutely drained.) DARIA: How are you feeling? QUINN: Like I've never worked so hard in my life. The questions kept asking me to explain the theories behind each problem. I barely finished in time. DARIA: Any sense of how you did? (Quinn shrugs.) QUINN: I don't know. It was all a blur... I just wanted to get through it. (From his spot, Jameson compares Quinn's answers to the ones on his answer key. He makes markings with his red pen on her blue book. Many markings. This doesn't escape Quinn. She looks at Daria with a resigned expression.) (After ten long minutes, Jameson stands and hands Quinn back her blue books. She opens the first page and sees her score in a red circle at the top: 74/100. Quinn looks at it for several seconds, then closes her eyes.) DARIA: Not bad. QUINN: "Not bad"? How can you say that? I got a C. DARIA: Yeah, but it's a C at Bromwell. QUINN: It's still a C. (She grows nauseous as the score sinks in.) People who are college material don't get C's. *You* don't get C's. DARIA: I also didn't just take a test for an unfamiliar class at one of the best schools in the country. You took a big risk coming here, and it paid off. QUINN: You're just saying that to make me feel better. DARIA: Lots of students here probably *dream* of scoring that high. JAMESON: I know mine do. (Daria and Quinn stare at him. He has closed his satchel bag and is walking toward the door, headed for his luncheon.) DARIA: What do you mean? JAMESON: Of my sixty-five students, only eleven got a score above passing. (Quinn's eyes grow large.) QUINN: *What*? DARIA: Quinn performed in the top twenty percent of your class?? JAMESON: The top seventeen percent, if you don't round up. Not bad, not bad at all. (He looks at Quinn.) How old did you say you were again? QUINN: Sixteen. And a half. JAMESON: You're a junior in high school? (Quinn nods quickly.) My class is for college sophomores who have committed to math as their major. It's designed to let them know in a hurry if they really belong. (faintly impressed.) You'd have to be fairly skilled, and fairly well taught, to do so well at your age. DARIA: Would you be willing to state that in writing? JAMESON: Sure, sure. (He looks at his watch again.) Now I'm running late. Here's my card. (pulls one out of his satchel and hands it to Quinn.) Give me a call or an e-mail, and I'd be happy to dash you off a letter, if need be. (rushes toward the door.) Nice meeting with you, ladies. DARIA & QUINN: Bye. (When he's gone, the sisters remain still for a moment. Quinn gazes down at Professor Jameson's card and a big smile spreads across her face. She stands up and looks at Daria with joy and silent gratitude, before leaning forward to give her a tentative hug. When Daria does not push her away, Quinn's hug grows stronger, as love for her sister rushes to the surface. Daria stands still, feeling Quinn's arms encircling her, before hugging her back.) (cut to: ) SCENE 29 (Pizza King, several days later) (Daria sits with Jane, the newspaper spread out between them. In bold font, a headline proclaims: "Teacher Changes Plea to Guilty" and underneath, in smaller print: "Resigns from Lawndale High.") JANE: Read it and weep. Phelps is history. DARIA: After everything he put us through, I can't believe it. Promise not to pinch me, okay? JANE: Just call me Janey "No Thumbs." DARIA: To think I'll never have to see that smug, cold visage again. JANE: I knew all those eye witnesses popping up would make him cave. Mr. Phelps may be ruthless, but he's too proud to subject himself to a lynching. DARIA: Too bad he couldn't be spared the gory details of his larceny in print. JANE: Five months of using Quinn's work, including summer. DARIA: In its own twisted way, it's almost kind of touching. A lot of that stolen money *was* meant for her. JANE: "Touching"?? DARIA: I said *almost*. (Bt) As for the rest, I guess it shouldn't surprise me that it went toward his debts. Given his former career, it makes sense that he would be used to a higher standard of living. I just thought, though, that someone like the "mighty" Mr. Phelps would be hatching a grander scheme -- one that would lead to his eventual takeover of the World Bank. JANE: What did your family say? DARIA: My parents are just happy that it's over. Quinn herself doesn't seem to be reacting negatively -- especially after outscoring over eighty percent of the students in a Bromwell math class. At least now she knows Phelps really *did* mean it when he said she was talented and that he *was* preparing her to be more than just a drone in his money-stealing operation. JANE: Has that professor guy gotten back to you? DARIA: (nods) It looks as though he'll write the recommend for Quinn to transfer into a college-level class in January, when Lawndale State's second semester starts. JANE: I have to say, I'm kind of amazed. DARIA: You and me both. JANE: I mean about the way you went from hating Quinn to helping her get her confidence back. What made you forgive her for what she did? DARIA: Who says I forgive her? JANE: You don't? DARIA: Not for ripping up my stories. I'll never forgive her for that -- and she knows it. The thing is, I thought I could shut her out of my life. I *wanted* to shut her out... but I couldn't, and now, I'm just as glad. Through Phelps, I've seen what self-centered resentment can lead to -- a life of bitterness and isolation. Sure, I want to be alone, but not to the point where I'm truly incapable of trusting anyone else unless I have complete control over them. (She glances at the newspaper article, her brow creasing.) DARIA: Quinn's spurred my hatred before, and she will again. She's also done things to make me proud of her. Each time I think I've figured her out, she exceeds my expectations. I want to give her the chance to redeem herself, for her sake and mine. (Meanwhile, cut to shot of Quinn sitting across the room, looking at the same article. She studies it carefully for several seconds, her brow creased. Mr. Phelps's full confession absolved her of cheating, and she wonders: Did he do it because he really *did* care about her, or because of the pressure of having so many firsthand witnesses? After a moment of pondering, she realizes that she will probably never know. With a quiet sigh, she folds the newspaper carefully and lays it aside. She looks up at Sandi, Stacy, Tiffany, the Three J's, and a few other onlookers.) STACY: Won't you come back to school, Quinn? If anyone tried to be mean to you, I just got my brown belt, so I could protect you. JEFFY: (proudly) And we've beat up every guy who's said bad stuff about you. QUINN: Um... thanks. (She glances at Jamie, who has a black eye.) Jamie? JAMIE: All I said was that we didn't *know* if you hadn't done any of that stuff! I didn't mean I thought you had! SANDI: The *point* is that your friends will be there to back you up. BARRY: That's *right*! (Quinn swerves her head to find Barry behind the three J's, who gaze at him suspiciously. She finds herself smiling.) QUINN: Sure I'll come back. That would be really... nice. (At Daria and Jane's table, Jodie appears.) JODIE: Hey guys. The whole school's talking about Phelps's resignation. *I'm* still in shock. I mean, I didn't like him, but I never thought he would... DARIA: I suspect the rest of the school is right there with you. JANE: Now that teaching's barred from him, I wonder what will be his next act. Is San Quentin short on pit bulls? DARIA: Whatever he does, I just hope he comes away better from this experience. (Jane notes her charitable comment with faint surprise.) JODIE: Jane told me you were staying home until after the trial. Does that mean you're coming back to school? DARIA: And miss my daily routine of soap operas and trash talk? (She sighs.) I don't see why not, though I'll still have the threat of the special program hanging over my head. JODIE: About that -- Superintendent Cartwright came to visit yesterday and I heard he was *pissed*. He made a surprise visit to the program before telling Ms. Li when he was coming, and he said the whole thing should be shut down. (Daria's cheeks color.) JODIE: With Mr. Phelps's guilty plea, it looks like Ms. Li will be eating a lot of crow for some time. That's if she's even allowed to keep her job. I don't think you'll have to worry about her sending you to a program for troubled kids. (Daria nods, her expression growing numb. Jane notes the change in her demeanor.) JANE: (to Jodie) There're still the kids who've been picking on her. JODIE: I know, but a lot of people really miss having her around. JANE: Yeah, poor Brittany just twirls her hair, looking so lost and alone without someone smarter to annoy. JODIE: I read your web journal, Daria, and it really made me think. I hadn't realized just how bad things were for you and Quinn. We've *all* been burned by the poison politics at school, but my homework and extracurriculars kept me from ever addressing them seriously. We don't have much time left, but do you want to help me try? If it's not too "joiner" for you. Daria? JANE: What's up, girl? (Daria shakes her head, her next words betraying a hint of emotion.) DARIA: It's over. I made it. (cut to: ) SCENE 30 (Morgendorffer bathroom, later) (Quinn enters to find Daria standing at the sink, her contacts case on the counter. Daria removes her glasses for one moment, looks at herself without them, then puts them on again.) QUINN: Daria? (Daria turns abruptly, sees that Quinn is wearing her glasses.) DARIA: So, you're back in the four-eyed fold. QUINN: Yeah, well, the contacts were stinging my eyes, so I thought I'd give them a rest. (She touches them, smiles a little.) It's funny: I thought once I got contacts, my life would be perfect. But things have changed so much since I started wearing glasses. Sometimes I even kind of miss them. DARIA: You think you'll go back to wearing them all the time? QUINN: Are you *kidding*?! I feel geeky enough just wearing them now! DARIA: Forgive my casual display of interest. QUINN: I mean... maybe sometimes. (She then notices Daria's contact lens case.) QUINN: What about you? Are you gonna wear your contacts? DARIA: Depends on how much I want that acid feeling on my eyeballs. QUINN: Are you changing your look?? DARIA: No, just experimenting a little. QUINN: How come? DARIA: Jane broke up with Tom and is now trying to pair *me* up with him, and -- QUINN: Yes, you should date him. (Daria rolls her eyes.) DARIA: I just started thinking of what attracting other people might involve, and... (Her cheeks flush.) Forget I said anything. QUINN: Oh come on, you'd look great without your glasses. You've got real nice eyes and it would open up your face. DARIA: That's the guilt talking, isn't it? QUINN: Don't you think so?? (Daria turns toward the mirror and removes her glasses, squints at what she sees.) DARIA: I guess. It's just that I'm more concerned about what would happen if I started wearing contacts more regularly. QUINN: Daria, it's not like you'd become a different person, or anything. DARIA: That reminds me -- aren't you late for mathletics practice? QUINN: (concedes) Okay, looking different might make you act a little different, but it would probably be for the better. DARIA: I don't know if I'm ready for that. (Quinn impulsively reaches over to fluff up Daria's bangs.) DARIA: Hey! QUINN: Seriously, when we were rolling around and stuff on the floor, your bangs were off your forehead and without your glasses, you looked really good. DARIA: There should be a reduced penalty for sibling homicide. QUINN: No one's saying that if you change your look, you have to change it *now*. By this time next year, you'll be at college and you won't have to answer anyone's questions. You can do what you want. DARIA: That's right... I can, can't I? (Embarrassed, she looks down at the counter.) But what if I wanted to try my contacts out sooner? Really break the things in? QUINN: Then if you decide to date... (sees Daria's expression.) ...or whatever, you could wear them on weekends, to places where people you know would be less likely to see you. DARIA: I still don't... QUINN: I can help you ease into them. Let me help *you* for once. (Daria looks at her.) QUINN: I know changing your appearance can be scary, Daria, but even after all I went through with Mr. Phelps... I don't regret getting glasses. I like the idea of being smart and I want to see where I can take it on my own. (Daria notes her sincere, warmly interested expression, and suddenly finds herself relaxing. She glances down at her contact lens case.) DARIA: You want to help me put them in? ********************** THE END [roll the credits......................... Naturally, the end song will be "Tomorrow Never Knows" by the Beatles. Then, because "Is It College Yet?" got two songs, I'll use "Breathe Me" by Sia.] Turn off your mind, relax and float down stream It is not dying It is not dying Lay down all thought Surrender to the void It is shining It is shining That you may see the meaning of within It is being It is being That love is all and love is everyone It is knowing It is knowing That ignorance and hate may mourn the dead It is believing It is believing But listen to the color of your dreams It is not living It is not living Or play the game existence to the end Of the beginning Of the beginning Of the beginning Of the beginning Of the beginning Of the beginning Help, I have done it again I have been here many times before Hurt myself again today And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame Be my friend Hold me, wrap me up Unfold me I am small I'm needy Warm me up And breathe me Ouch I have lost myself again Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found, Yeah I think that I might break I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe Be my friend Hold me, wrap me up Unfold me I am small I'm needy Warm me up And breathe me Be my friend Hold me, wrap me up Unfold me I am small I'm needy Warm me up And breathe me ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Special thanks to: Los Angeles Police Department (North Hollywood Branch) and Burbank Police Department conversations October 14 and 15, 2005 Brother Grimace, The Angst Guy, Steven Galloway, RLobinske, E.A. Smith, Scissors MacGillicutty, and Dennis -- my beta readers Michelle Klein-Haas for her journalistic insights, and Chad Page and Deref for their suggestions on how the press would learn about the Quinn/Phelps situation And last but not least, Mike Nassour for legal insights. COMMENTARY As I mentioned in the commentary for "Into the Fire," the completion of the final two DWUs was delayed largely because I could not think of the final puzzle piece that would make everything fit together in a logical way. I knew that Phelps was doing something bad that would be uncovered, but *what*, I didn't know. At first, I thought about making him a closet gambler who, having "made" great math students, proceeded to take advantage of their money and gratitude after they had found future success. That, however, opened up a number of problems, such as how Phelps maintained such a "hold" over them for many years, or how Daria could possibly see that as a threat serious enough to merit intervention. Plus, when I ran the idea by a visiting Rich Fowler (the Paperpusher), his reaction was, "Huh?" While reading the shooting script for "Revenge of the Sith," I suddenly recalled a different movie -- "Office Space." Yes, of course! "Office Space" was released in 1999, the same year in which "Tomorrow Never Knows" is set. The technology was there to steal money via computer, but not the safeguards that we would have today. It's something that an impressionable student could knowingly or unknowingly be a part of, and it's not so original (hey, "Office Space" did it) that a student or Phelps couldn't put together the program. Most importantly, it carries a serious penalty for those who get caught. I worried that the reveal that Phelps really *was* using some of Quinn's work to steal money would seem anticlimactic. After all, this is what Daria had worried about since meeting with Marshall in "Into the Fire" and *bingo*, she was right. I considered having Phelps be guilty of something different or larger, or maybe of nothing at all, but still so driven by fear that his past would ruin his present that he tries to destroy Daria. The reasons I ultimately went with the larceny scenario are because 1) anything grander just felt over-the-top and too difficult to pull off ( Quinn is cracking secret codes to the vault at Fort Knox. Wow! ); 2) I think it would have felt like a cop out had I revealed, after dropping several hints of wrongdoing for several installments, that Phelps was just a well-meaning teacher trying to escape his past; 3) it would have made Daria look like a nasty snoop, in that Phelps would have been fine except for *her* pressing and prying. One of the main elements of the story is Daria finding herself alone and feeling as though no one (apart from Jane) believes in her, yet still finding that inner strength to believe in herself. That would be completely upended if, in the end, the characters were to say, "You see, Daria? You really *were* mistaken." In the end, my beta readers pointed out that what Phelps was guilty of was less frightening than what he was doing to Daria and Quinn in order to keep from being found out. So why did Phelps go back to stealing and at what point did he decide to use Quinn? I'm not sure how clear of an explanation I gave in the story, but the answer to the first question is because he never thought it was wrong. He comes >from a world where people regularly build tax shelters to avoid paying their share to the government or cheat in their calculations of quarterly earnings. Thus, Phelps can find a reason to justify his taking of tiny fractions of money >from Fielding parents. "It's the Christmas bonus they never gave me... I'm underpayed for what I do... They aren't paying their taxes anyway... I'm just taking what they should have given me." In many respects, he would be right, which would make his excuse-making that much more alluring and dangerous. Once he gets on this track of perpetual victimhood, he would find it difficult to get off. The only reason why he stopped taking money in the first place was to prevent Marshall from leaving him. Once he was safely at another school, when Marshall could allow himself to relax and his suspicions to fade, could Phelps once again resume his activity. Actually, I could see Phelps choosing to refrain for a while, because unlike at Fielding, he would have no issue with the Lawndale High families -- at first. However, in time Phelps's sense of personal injustice would rise once more, and he would start to steal all over again, not just from the ready crop of wealthy families in Lawndale, but from many more people who had somehow "wronged" him or who he felt owed him in some way, no matter how peripheral they were in his life. Enter Quinn. At this point, Quinn would have already impressed Phelps as a gifted mathematician and he would be pushing her to achieve her full potential. I would say that the first time it really occurred to Phelps to seek Quinn's aid with his scheme would have been after "Charge of the Math Brigade." He would have already seen that she was willing to bend the rules by accepting answers to his tests and to the mathletics problems (even if she never used them). As for why Phelps gave Quinn those cheats in the first place -- well, as Quinn points out in Act One, he wanted to help her build her confidence. If you recall, after Quinn got her glasses, there was a time up until around "Cheered Down" when she was performing very well. Then fear of her "geekiness" led her to reject her intelligence, causing her grades to plummet. Having seen that Quinn had what it took, Phelps wanted to make sure that Quinn never dug herself so deep a hole that she couldn't get out. He wasn't sure that Jake's encouragement would be enough, so in his misguided way, he saw the cheats as a way of boosting her morale until she was scoring high again on her own. Phelps would have first given Quinn answer keys shortly after "Of Absolute Value." It was not part of a long-term plan to charge Quinn with dishonesty if she got in the way of his larceny, but it did provide a convenient outlet for blame. On Alfred Phelps I'm not altogether sure what people were expecting of Phelps as a villain. Some might have expected him to be more malevolent. Others might be wondering why Daria and her family couldn't get the upper hand until later in the story. I tried to make him ruthless, yet human, yet not *so* sympathetic that the reader was tempted to excuse him for his actions. My model for Phelps was, simply put, a high-ranking Republican operative or a Bush administration official. (Maybe I should rethink describing him as "human.") He shamelessly, guiltlessly distorts the truth, twisting situation after situation to make himself look faultless and his accuser guilty. In his own mind, he is always good-intentioned, and everyone who disagrees is against him. Daria is the thoughtful critic who can see through the lies and believes that everyone else can see through them as well, then is stunned to realize that they don't. As a result, she questions her assumptions about herself and the world in which she lives. Phelps's weakness, though, is to assume that he will always outsmart and outmaneuver people. He falls back on this approach automatically when a compromise might have gotten him the same result. He also presumes that he knows all of the "threats" and, as Marshall tells Daria, sometimes underestimates the ones that he shouldn't. That clunky bit of dialogue in Act Five was my attempt to explain why Phelps never pursued DeMartino with the aggressiveness with which he pursued Daria. Even though he knew that DeMartino had made a tape recording of him discussing proposed cuts for funding ("An Uneasy Marriage"), he presumed that once DeMartino had what he wanted, he would cause no further harm. A different person might have merited more scrutiny, but Phelps has judged DeMartino to be half-crazy, poorly respected, and not too bright. If he ever suspected that DeMartino had a relationship with Daria that was more than teacher- student, it was put to rest after Daria transferred out of his class (which he would have learned about from Quinn). Phelps is not the way he is because he is gay, except for the fact that he was tormented for it. I worried that people might draw this conclusion, and thus strove to demonstrate that he was what he was due to a poor upbringing and a series of unfortunate events -- and his own will. He would have been just as big a jerk if he were heterosexual. I also wanted to stress that he isn't a pedophile; in fact, that's the main reason I made him gay, so the possibility that he wanted to get into Quinn's pants was taken off the table. Phelps views Quinn as a soul mate and an apprentice, even as a daughter. Marshall was correct about his sincere dedication to teaching, and if there's one thing that I wish I could have shown more of throughout my series, it was his daily interactions with his students. Had I done so, I think that the resemblance to/parallel between him and Daria would have been stronger. Phelps and Marshall/Helen and Jake Like Helen and Jake, when we first see Phelps with Marshall, their life as a couple is on its last legs. Yet while Helen and Jake are torn between their love for each other and a desire to try something new, one gets the sense that Phelps never felt much yearning for Marshall. That is not to say that he had no love for him; he just never viewed him as his other half, someone who was his equal. Phelps took Marshall for granted as someone who would nurture him during the hard times, and took Marshall's concerns seriously only when they threatened to rip their life apart. It is questionable whether Phelps could ever care about another person as anything other than an extension of himself -- including Quinn. By contrast, Marshall, like Quinn, saw Phelps as giving him a second chance at life. He gladly provided Phelps the worship that he desired, thus ensuring that their relationship would wind up a miserable failure. All members of both couples have the opportunity to come away stronger from their experiences if they learn the right lessons. Helen and Jake appear to be learning those lessons throughout "Tomorrow Never Knows," as they finally come to see each other as people rather than as projections or appendages. Similarly, Marshall is finally realizing that any good relationship depends on both participants having a sense of self worth. Phelps, too, seems to finally understand in the end that his poor treatment of people will just make him end up alone. Unfortunately, it will take him longer to realize that in order to reverse the outcome, he needs to respect others for who they are, not just what they are in relation to him. Phelps and Daria Now when I say that Daria and Phelps resemble one another, I don't mean in every way, obviously. Besides the math/literature difference, there's the fact that Daria is probably heterosexual and does not have a fascination with money. However, the rest is open to question. Daria has shown a capacity for manipulating people, albeit people who are stupider than she. She can also be emotionally controlling towards the people she cares about. In the series, witness the stubborn passive-aggressive streak she displays toward Tom in "The Story of D," or her nasty show of possessiveness in "Jane's Addition." Daria has trouble giving the people she cares about their freedom -- freedom to have a life away from her and to be right, and her wrong. (Though in all fairness, Tom could be so damn annoying when he was right, which was always.) One could argue that Daria's putdowns of Quinn constitute a form of emotional abuse, even though Quinn strikes back just as hard. Yet if she could, would Daria be as controlling towards a life partner as Phelps was towards Marshall? The key to the answer is "if she could" -- that is, if she felt that she could let her self awareness or her sense of responsibility to others slip away. This could come in the form of a traumatic experience through which Daria's already tenuous belief in humanity gets shattered and she is never able to recover her sense of empathy. As I've said, Daria might not resemble Phelps in every way, but she resembles him enough in the worst ways that she is rightfully concerned that she could end up like him. If not for Jane's steadfast friendship or Helen's affirmation of trust in Act Five, she could very well have gone into an emotional spiral that left her heart closed to everyone else. At least for now, she has chosen to make something positive of her dark experience with Phelps and Ms. Li's "special program," but the key will be to maintain that outlook the next time life gets really hard. Futures of the Characters That said, what does the future hold for the characters, post-Driven Wild Universe? I've already touched upon what could happen to Daria, but not what will happen to her. My belief is that once the adrenaline from her scare wears off, she'll be left feeling slightly embittered. After brief hope that the crisis was bringing her parents closer together, she'll see that they're back to where they were before, and that she and Quinn will have to deal with the consequences. Daria will from time to time wonder why she had to go through what she did and it will make her wary about what lies ahead. At the same time, she will channel some of that bitterness toward advocacy -- in the coming years, shining her light on issues that need more scrutiny. I don't see her becoming an activist (too much work); I'm not even sure if she will flex her "crusader" muscles all that often. Regardless, the spark that was lit in "Breaking the Mold" will not be easily extinguished. As for Helen: In "An Uneasy Marriage" and "All But Forgotten," I gave the impression that she was in a malaise and that the malaise was hurting her career, then left it hanging in the final fics. At some point in "Into the Fire," I meant for Helen to reveal that, ironically, she has renewed focus on work thanks to her dread of sculpting and of being at home with her daughters. Eric and the partners are again talking about making her "one of them." It was too hard to fit into the story, so I left it out. Basically, Helen does not treat this turn of events with much joy, and now that she is again getting back into sculpting and seeing Greg, she will be in a struggle between putting more of herself into her work and investing herself in her creativity. At least now her home life is looking up, what with her renewed communication with Daria and Quinn. Then there's Quinn. Her family troubles will be the same as Daria's, but her future looks much brighter than it did before, now that her math talent has been verified by a Bromwell professor. More details about Quinn's progress since the Phelps crisis will be detailed in "Working Girl" when... if... it gets written. However, I'd like to pose a question: Has Quinn learned the lesson she *should* have learned from the outcome with Phelps? While she now knows that she can do the work without her mentor, has she really learned true independence... or has she just exchanged one security blanket for another? (The new security blanket being Daria.) It's safe to say that Quinn's path to wisdom will not be smooth, not that it ever would have been. However, she *has* come a very long way from the days when she not only didn't care about her intelligence, she wasn't sure if she had any. She now knows that it is a worthwhile investment that won't earn her the scorn of those who *really* care about her. Moreover, Quinn understands the danger of putting all of her academic eggs in one basket and thus will likely explore some scholastic areas in addition to math. She is in better shape than she was at the beginning of "Rose-Colored Lenses." Lastly, Jake is finally waking up to the fact that not only does he have more control over his life than he thought, but that he *must* be a better person for his daughters' sake. Being away from them has made him realize how much he cares about them, which causes him to make more of an effort to spend quality time with them than he ever did at home. Also, as mentioned above, his time away >from Helen has allowed him to see her in a better light, as the person he fell in love with instead of someone intent on keeping him down. The problem is, he might have realized this too late. The Driven Wild Universe As a Whole The series was born from annoyance that we didn't get to see Quinn's reaction to Daria wearing contact lenses in "Through a Lens Darkly." It gained traction in my imagination because there were developments that I wanted to see happen in the actual series that had yet to occur. I was dissatisfied with the development of characters like Quinn in a series that I thought was capable of better. I had seen Daria's development in Season Two and early Season Three, so I knew it could be done. Were "Daria" a lesser series, I would never have bothered, and I can honestly say that I don't think I'll ever write fanfic for another series. Or at least not for twenty years or so. It's *extremely* rare for shows like "Daria" to reach me on a personal level, and rarer still for works like the Driven Wild Universe to be the result. At first I was going to write a pretend episode, maybe two, that was light and joke-laden, devoid of the emotionalism and convoluted plotlines of so many of my other stories. It would be a good exercise, I told myself. Especially writing in script format, with which I was unfamiliar. >From the first episode, the story grew. I was confronted with the choice between doing more lightweight plots (such as one where Helen and Quinn get the flu, or one where Mr. O'Neill's class travels to England) or heavier ones, such as Amy coming for a visit and getting into a fight with Helen. Fearful that another fanfic author was on the verge of writing the story, I decided to go with the Helen/Amy episode, which I felt was juicier, and leave the lighter plots for another time. From there, the arc kept building and building, until I could see a climax and an ending. I came up with all of the episodes around the Year 2000 or so, and if you follow this link http://www.the-wildone.com/fanfics/kw_fics/spoilers.txt you'll find that the details of the final episodes show little change from their original conception. I'm amazed at all of the arcs I was able to advance in twenty-two episodes. The premiere arc, obviously, is Quinn's slow acceptance and eventual embrace of her intelligence; immediately following are the slow unraveling of Helen and Jake's marriage and Helen's evolving relationship with Amy. Then there's the emergence of Daria's hunger for muckraking and truth-seeking, Amy's deepening relationship with her boyfriend, Joel, Quinn and Sandi's power-struggle over the Fashion Club presidency, and the Jodie/Sandi/Jane feud, amongst others. I'm proudest of the first two arcs, since those are developments that I had wanted to see on the show, but had to wait a couple of years for one of them (while the other, strangely, never came to pass). As for the actual series, I think that overall, it did a good job portraying Quinn's advancement, even though it seemed a little uneven. Quinn gained depth steadily throughout the first few seasons, only to revert back to bratty shallowness in Season Four until "Is It Fall Yet?", whence she became deeper and wiser, suddenly not caring about things that had tormented her for years, like her classmates learning her true relation to Daria. I welcomed her turn toward maturity, shown in actions like leaving the empty box in Daria's room ("Boxing Daria")and swearing off drinking ("Is It College Yet?"), but thought that it seemed somehow too fast and too easy, with Quinn never struggling or facing consequences for her former attitude. I notice that her development pattern tends to mirror the series' development in general: lots of episodes where the pattern seems to hold, followed by a whirlwind of plot/character development packed into two or three episodes. In the Driven Wild Universe, I wanted Quinn to struggle with her change in identity because I felt that given the monumental importance of her popularity, she would desperately want to preserve it at all costs. Only through time and from hard lessons would Quinn come to value what she had gained in its place. Quinn in "Is It College Yet?" feels "finished" to me, like she could soar away and lead a perfectly good life >from that moment onward, whereas Quinn at the end of "Tomorrow Never Knows" is still a little rough around the edges, just about to embark on a hard journey alone. In retrospect, I wish I had found a subtler device to launch Quinn's soul- searching than glasses. Mid-Season Three, though, Quinn showing a sustained interest in learning would have been as alien as showing a sustained interest in collecting bugs. I felt that she needed a shake up... not a trauma, but something that she could not turn away from or bury down deep until it disappeared. With regard to Helen and Jake, I kept hoping that the actual series would acknowledge that they didn't have the happiest marriage. Maybe Glenn Eichler and the writers were aware, but saw them as typical of high-income working couples who have too little time to spend with each other. If so, that might be a good explanation, but hardly a satisfying one. Just because something is "typical" doesn't mean it should be tolerated. When it became apparent in Season Four that Helen and Jake were never really going to examine the heart of their issues, I had to make do with the events in my continuum. I felt that Helen, and Jake to a lesser extent, was too good a character to deserve getting locked into such a dissatisfying holding pattern. If they were ever going to have a genuinely happy and fulfilling marriage, they had to stop pretending that their tensions weren't there and risk a lot of ugliness by confronting what was wrong. Unfortunately, one result was that they could find their marriage too flawed to hold, which is the case in "Into the Fire"/"Tomorrow Never Knows." Even so, it's not a given that Helen and Jake will remain apart forever. As they say, tomorrow never knows. ; > Overall, the Driven Wild Universe as a whole is darker than the actual series. Not just in terms of personal relationships, but in terms of atmospherics, such as the climate at Lawndale High. I felt that no modern public school would be as well-ordered and sanitized as the Lawndale High of the series, and thus injected a little "Welcome to the Dollhouse." After all, what good was Daria's ability to make truthful, biting comments if all she had to work with were bland ciphers for classmates? Sometimes, though, the darkness came unbidden; I was surprised by how dark "Outvoted" or "Primarily Color" could be, even though I knew exactly what was going to happen. I suppose, given the unflinching look at the subject matter, the darkness was inevitable. At times, I wish that I could have kept things a little lighter, but that, too, could have caused problems. It's been interesting to watch the Driven Wild Universe evolve over the years. After a recent reread, I was stricken by the stages in which the stories seemed to fall. Stage One: "Rose-Colored Lenses" through "None in the Family, Part Two." The episodes are mainly light, introducing characters and their conflicts, occasionally dipping into deeper territory ("That Thing You Say," "None in the Family, Part Two"). Stage Two: "Outvoted" through "Erin the Head." The tone of the episodes remains fairly light, though there is noticeable development in some of the storylines, such as Mr. Phelps's pressure on Quinn to improve in math ("Of Absolute Value") and Helen taking a sculpting class ("Breaking the Mold"). Stage Three: "Primarily Color through "Tomorrow Never Knows." The tone of the series gets noticeably darker, save occasional light- heartedness in "Charge of the Math Brigade" and "An Uneasy Marriage." As they continue to develop, the plotlines grow more complex, with no guarantee of a happy resolution. At times, the tone of some episodes comes across as ponderous or heavy handed. Most of the episodes are a little too long, and I could think of something to trim out of each of them. At the same time, looking back, there are areas where I felt I rushed. For instance, in retrospect I would have preferred that Jake's role as a teacher and eventual meeting with another woman hadn't happened off screen, so that the reveal to Daria and Quinn didn't feel so sudden. Also, in retrospect, I wish I could have done more to foreshadow Phelps's nefariousness, or the conflict that was at the heart of Helen and Amy's troubles in "All But Forgotten/Memory Road." I suppose that's inevitable, though, when you have an idea of where you want to take a storyline, but nothing set in stone. Some of these episodes could use in-between episodes, but don't look for me to be writing them anytime soon. I'll sum up by saying that I view the DWU as I would any long story that I've written, and I'm proud of its internal consistency and its overall pacing. I'm also happy that, after not following up until three years after "Memory Road," I could end the series on a high note. Points of Interest ** Sub-theme -- "Rumors": This really came across to me when I read both "Into the Fire" and "Tomorrow Never Knows." Rumors spread like wildfire, whether through the press or the hallways of Lawndale High. Helen and Jake's separation; the "dark deeds" of the underground staffers; Phelps's past; Quinn's relationship with Phelps, etc. They can ruin reputations and are meant to be feared and dreaded. No matter how much the characters' names are concealed (such as in the Lowdown article or the later article about the Morgendorffers), their supposed sins come out anyway. What is the significance? Maybe just that you have to face the world and be yourself, because the world will try to define you even if you hide. Oh, and that people care way too much about other people's problems because it makes theirs seem smaller (to paraphrase Jane in "Into the Fire"). ** Daria and Tom?: Will Daria start to date Tom, causing their relationship to sync up with the one in the series? I'm not sure... I thought I would leave it open to interpretation. If Daria did date Tom, nudged on by Jane, it's possible that their relationship might have played out differently. Without lingering sadness/guilt about The Kiss, Daria might be less resistant to taking risks and more open with Tom. Her self-confidence having been tested by Phelps and come away victorious, Daria would probably be more comfortable with herself, and therefore less susceptible to Tom's suggestions for self improvement. Nonetheless, I think that after a while, their respective quirks would rub each other the wrong way and they would break up, probably before the start of college. ** Ms. Li, school security, and civil liberties: Daria's problems with the "special program" might have felt exaggerated within the story, but disturbingly enough, they represent a real-life phenomenon. Congress first enacted zero tolerance statutes in 1994 to prevent students from carrying handguns in schools, but over the following years, especially after Columbine, the statutes grew tougher and covered other types of behavior. As noted in a Salon.com article (2001): "[Disciplinary] policies mandating severe punishments -- usually suspensions, expulsions and, increasingly, referral to law enforcement -- have been expanded in many school districts to cover a broad canvas of student behaviors, including possession of all weapons (which can include everything from real fireams to beepers, 'gun-shaped' medallions and nail clippers), drugs (not just marijuana and cocaine but Midol, asthma medication, and Certs), and alcohol (mouthwash qualifies), along with threats, truancy, tardiness, and vague, catch-all categories like 'insubordination' and 'disrespect.'" http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/2001/08/29/zero_tolerance/ In most episodes of "Daria," Ms. Li's autocratic security measures are often treated as harmless sideshows to the main event, sometimes becoming the main event in order to launch lightweight class trip plotlines like "Fair Enough" or "Just Add Water." However, "Tomorrow Never Knows" demonstrates what would happen if Ms. Li found a reason to take her measures to their natural extremes. I realize that nearly everything on the show was a satire of some sort, but this is one area where I wish Glenn Eichler and company had invested a little more gravity, to show that these security measures might be a part of the modern school, but that doesn't mean that they are benign. ** Skylar, the all-purpose trouble maker: I felt a little guilty about using him as the heckler in this story, given that he's been the villain in so many other "Daria" fics. However, the way I see it, his reactions to Quinn and Sandi are those of a scorned lover, someone who was once crazy about both of them before getting rejected, and is now looking to dump on them at every turn. If either of them gave him the tiniest hint of encouragement, he would be their servant once more. ** What of Andrea?: Even with Ms. Li's authority having suffered a blow, it's unlikely that our favorite Goth will be returning to Lawndale High. We shouldn't mourn for her, though, because it's quite likely that she will be happier in the long run. Even more than Daria, Andrea strikes me as one of those smart people who loathes every single minute she's in a conventional school setting. Whereas Daria can at least take some pride in being an acknowledged "brain," Andrea has no place. She might be artistic, but she's not The Artiste. Being outside of school, where she can chart her own course, should give her the opportunity to grow in ways that she couldn't have otherwise. While she may have had a dysfunctional upbringing (at least in the DWU), she strikes me as having what it takes to be a survivor. ** Modern finger printing: According to this http://slate.msn.com/id/2128533/?nav=tap3 finger printing now often involves digital scanning instead of ink stains, and mug shots are digitally taken, so the numbers are put on the side instead of being held by the charged. Of course, this is 2005, not 1999, so who knows if the Lawndale PD would have had this technology. Besides, it's more fun to portray a booking the old-fashioned way. ** Amy and her bambino: So it's official: Amy is going to have a baby -- not that it was a secret before this installment. I was originally planning to have her announce it in a scene where Daria calls her for advice about her Phelps/family problems, but as the story progressed, I started to feel that such a scene would suck momentum from the story, and therefore decided to write it so that Daria and Quinn learned of their aunt's pregnancy off screen. ** The "They Came from Planet Xulfanex" connection": Another story that helped me work toward the last two DWUs was, ironically, a fic I wrote in part to apologize for *not* having an ending to the series. The events are supernatural, but one exchange gave me an idea for the real interplay between Phelps and Quinn: "Enough! I won't listen to you!" Quinn finally found strength in her legs and rose. She gazed angrily at the teacher she once revered. "Talk all you want, but I'm not gonna help you! I won't lead you to my dad, and I won't do your stupid calculations!" Mr. Phelps looked surprised. Then he smiled. "Won't do my calculations? But you already have." Quinn started to protest, but the words died on her lips as she gazed at the blackboard. The simple equation Phelps had written for the daily lesson expanded across the entire board, revealing several markings that Quinn recognized as her own. Underneath each was the solution. "Day after day," Phelps said calmly, "I would give you equations, and you would solve them. I increased their difficulty, and you solved them. Little by little, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Until finally, I gave you the equation that had baffled me since I came to this planet. For a while, you were stumped, too. But you kept working at it and working at it until it, too, was solved." The board swam before Quinn's eyes, and the room seemed to lose control of its gravity. "I really want to thank you, Ms. Morgendorffer, for paving my way home." It struck me that Phelps could be doing the same thing to Quinn in real life, using the statistics exercises that Quinn *thought* were to develop her skill. Nice to know that writing "Xulfanex" wasn't a complete waste of time. How Are *You* Doing, Kara? At this very moment, I'm plotting out a screenplay and I intend to write the first draft this spring, so I'd say... busy. As for my general experience with Hollywood, it's been two parts frustrating for every part that's rewarding. I've had enough success to land two managers, one for television and one for film (no small feat, given that managers have more prospective clients than they know what to do with), but haven't stuck (stricken?) gold yet. I've focused my energy on breaking into the hermetically sealed world of television. Unfortunately, with the increase of reality shows (only now on the wane) and fewer freelance episodes available, scripted television doesn't have much to offer someone who isn't a friend of a writer-producer, a relative of a writer-producer, or the former gopher, now assistant, of a writer-producer. The good news is that I've received enough feedback from various producers, managers, and contest providers to know that I'm not a hack, that I *do* have the talent to be on a writing staff. The bad news is that there are a lot of other talented people in Los Angeles, and we're all fighting over the same crust of bread. My fortunes could suddenly rise dramatically -- one never knows out here. For now, though, I'm turning my attention to writing my first screenplay because feature films have a wider market available and can be sold all year long (whereas television spec scripts are offered only at certain points of the year). It's nice to try something different, and good things seem to come from my original writing. (One of my specs, a pilot, won a well-known contest that helped land my two managers.) The screenplay might turn out to be a bust, but then, it might do really well. I'll have to see. In the meantime, I'm also considering one or two more conventional careers, and which sort of graduate program would be necessary for the one I choose. If I do eventually pack my bags and leave LaLa Land, I don't see myself stopping the writing. It's what I do, and even if I go through lull periods where I have no time or inspiration to write, I'll still come back to writing. I might even come back to fanfic. As of this moment, "The Age of Cynicism" is still unfinished, and I would like to finish "Working Girl" and "The Winter Chill." I don't see fanfic superceding my personal writing, though. It's something that's fun, and can give you inspiration when you're struggling with a piece of commercially oriented writing that is too structured to be fun, but I've got too many ideas in general to limit them to the sphere of one show. Nonetheless, I've enjoyed the time spent amongst fellow fanficters, and I can see several of the scenarios in my fanfics crossing over into my original writing. The Current State of Fandom When I released "Memory Road" back in June of 2002, "Is It College Yet?" had aired that January, longtime fanfic authors were announcing their retirements (or at least their retirement from prolificness), and fans were nervously wondering whether fandom was on the verge of dying. I always figured that at least some fans would be left to carry the torch, and I'm happy to report that "some" is an understatement. If I were to disappear tomorrow, fandom would carry on unabated. The group is smaller than when the show was in its first run, but given the remote access to the show and the existence of *no* legitimate DVD set, it's amazing that not only so many long-time regulars have decided to stick around, but several new people, many of them younger than 20, have come on the scene. Of course, I get frustrated now and then when the newer group focuses exclusively on their "era" of thinkers and fanfic authors, not realizing that many of their ideas have been mined before. I can understand why they would be drawn to new material, but it would be nice if they would give a nod to those paved their way (and to their credit, some of them do). That's one reason why I can come off as a somewhat cranky granny figure at times, reminding the new settlers of who was here before. A lot of great new material is being produced, both in terms of fanfics and essays, but I avoid statements like, "This is the best ever!" because a) I don't think any of the newer stuff (mainly drama) is better than the older stuff I've read, and b) if something new expands upon a school of thought, it needs to be judged by a different set of standards than older works that might have created the "school" (such as the first 'shipper stories). In any event, I go into this in greater detail in my Q&A session with E.A. Smith. I started writing this a couple of weeks beforehand, so some of what I've mentioned above may seem redundant or out-of-date. To close out the final episode of the DWU, a clip montage: ["Rose-Colored Lenses"] (Quinn is cowering behind a chair next to the refraction machine. The door to the exam room opens and Dr. Gordon and Daria enter. Daria stops, looks at Quinn, and frowns.) DARIA: Quinn, what are you *doing*? QUINN: I *can't* look through that thing, Daria. It's all *creepy* and it's got big *bug* eyes and it makes *me* look like a bug and if Sandi, Stacy, or Tiffany ever saw me here I'd just *die*! DARIA: (to Dr. Gordon) Vanity crisis. I'll handle this. ["The Tie That Chokes"] AMY: (hushed voice) Are you thinking what *I'm* thinking? (Pan to Helen, her dish of untouched flan poised in her hand.) HELEN: (briskly) I'm *way* ahead of you. (Cut to wide shot. Amy cocks an eyebrow seductively at Upchuck.) UPCHUCK: Grrrrrrrrrrrr... *Feisty*!!! ["That Thing You Say"] QUINN: (peevish) I said I love you, Daddy. (Jake's eyes bulge. He lays down the mug, clasps his hands together.) JAKE: Aw *gee*, Quinn, do you really *mean* it?! You really *love* me?!! (Quinn pauses to consider.) QUINN: Uh... yes! ["'Shipped Out"] (Cut to a shot of the older Daria and Trent riding in a car.) TRENT: They're not like *us*, Daria. I'm *me*, and you're a sexy, courageous, intelligent woman with an amazing ability to see life for what it is and deliver that ever so apt line to describe it. ["Andrea Speaks!"] (We see Andrea standing behind her, leaning against the wall. Every so often, she lifts a cigarette to her mouth and takes a puff. She's staring at Daria. Meanwhile, Daria is staring into the mirror back at her, trying not to seem too unnerved.) DARIA: Um... hi. (long Pause) DARIA: (thought voice-over) Oops -- I've said too much. ["Cheered Down"] BRITTANY: Don't tell me *you* can't do one. (As she says this, she slides gracefully into a split. For a few seconds, she sits there with her arms triumphantly outspread. Then gravity proves too much for her -- she falls over on her face. Quinn smirks at her.) QUINN: I could do a better split than *that*. ["None in the Family, Part One"] JAKE: Now let me see: since I've already met *Marcia*, you must be Jan and Cindy. Right? (He offers Amy his hand. She looks at it like she doesn't know what it's for. Then looks at Jake.) AMY: I think we've met before. (cocks a brow.) And under *unpleasant* circumstances. RITA: *I'm* usually Marcia!!! ["None in the Family, Part Two"] GRANDMA: All right, Amy, well done. You've made your point. Aunt Eleanor would be proud. AMY: (rolling her eyes) I didn't see it as "telling you off" -- just as being honest. And Aunt Ellie didn't put me up to anything. (anger creeping in) And why do you always have to talk about her like some *rash* you're trying to get rid of?? GRANDMA: Rash? (somewhat condescending.) Sweetheart, you exaggerate. AMY: Oh really?? Your goddamn *half*-sister?! ["Outvoted"] KEVIN: (goofy cheerful) Brit and I nominated you. BRITTANY: (spacy cheerful) An' I got all the *cheerleaders* to vote for you! DARIA: Somehow I knew there was a mental error behind this. JANE: (to Brittany and Kevin, dry) And why *me* of all people? KEVIN: Well *duh*! Our teacher said to nominate someone good at the *art* of governing. BRITTANY: And no one's better at art than *you* are, Jane! JANE: I had to ask. ["Of Absolute Value"] (Cut to wider shot. Jake rushes up to Phelps and shakes his hand, herky-jerky style.) JAKE: The name's Jake Morgendorffer -- Quinn Morgendorffer's father. Now what d' you say we get down to *business*? (He moves to sit down on top of a desk, but unfortunately is too heavy. The desk tips forward, sending Jake to the ground. Phelps watches this display with a raised brow.) PHELPS: (dry) I'm Alfred Phelps. ["Breaking the Mold"] HELEN: (continues to mold for several more seconds, before digging her fingers into the clay.) *Dammit* -- shut *me* out, will she?! (twists the structure around, tears pieces off and presses them back on again in a haphazard manner.) What's so *wrong* with me wanting to have a silly little *chat* with her every once in a while?? What is she *afraid* of?! What did I *ever* do to --?! AMANDA: Helen! That's amazing! HELEN: Huh? ["Surreal World"] (Suddenly Kevin, who has been a passive audience this whole time, jumps off the couch and points a finger at Sandi.) KEVIN: You're OUT of the house!!! SANDI: (turning the full force of her emotions on him) Why don't *YOU* get out of the house, *KEVIN*?!! KEVIN: But I'm the good guy. JODIE: (to Sandi) Maybe you should do what he says. SANDI: Or maybe *you* should! UPCHUCK: C' mon ladies, let's quell the catfight... SANDI & JODIE: *SHUT UP*!! ["Erin the Head"] ERIN: That's not *true*, you stupid BLEEPhole! If you'd *ever* bothered to help me out once in while --! MRS. GUPTY: (now really nervous) Please, children, no need to resort to *unpleasant* language. BRIAN: BLEEPhole! Don't call me a BLEEPhole you BLEEPing *BLEEP*!! (Erin bursts into tears.) OTHER GUESTS: Ohhhhhhhhhh! WOMAN GUEST: You don't have to take that from 'im, *girlfriend*! MR. GUPTY: (distressed) We need a commercial! ["Primarily Color"] QUINN: Mr. O'Neill *also* encouraged us white students to get to know some of the minority students better -- like talk to them one-on-one and hear their painful stories. So I've decided to hang out with Tiffany for the next few days. DARIA: (rolling her eyes) But you *already* hang out with Tiffany. QUINN: (thoughtful) Yes, but not... the *real* Tiffany. ["The Age of Cynicism"] HELEN: (leans closer to Jake, touches his hand.) Jake? About what I said... JAKE: Hmm? HELEN: About us waiting to have children until *after* we'd met our career goals? (Bt) Well... goals *can* change. JAKE: What d' you mean? (Beat) HELEN: (straining to find the right words) Well... when you see that a greater good could be met... you-you, um, realize that your own *personal* goals don't matter qu- JAKE: What are you trying to say, Helen?? HELEN: I want to have a baby. ["Charge of the Math Brigade"] BARRY: Pooor Quinn. So beautiful, so distressed. I'd take on the entire *Borg Collective* if it would make her feel better. SQUIGGLEY: Uh, maybe you could go reassure her, or something. If that's all right with you. BARRY: I've *tried* talking to her. But alas, she's as cold and proud as Seven of Nine. SQUIGGLEY: But gee, um, she might really start to like you if you talk to 'er... BARRY: I don't know... CLARENCE: Dammit man, just DO it!!! ["An Uneasy Marriage"] GREG: (coming closer, soothing) Shhhh, it's all right. HELEN: (sounding shaken) Which is why when Jake told me about what a *great* friend he was to this man, I started thinking: maybe he's *always* been mature enough to connect to other people. (Bt) I'm just not one of them. GREG: Now Helen, sweetheart, don't talk that way. You and your husband love each other and that is final. HELEN: (miserable) I know. I don't *want* to think about it, but I can't help it. ["In Her Own Words"] TOM: Find anything incriminating? DARIA: That depends... (With a big smirk, she shows Tom the page she just looked at. Cut to close-up shot of a photo of Tom dressed in a school uniform, mid-leap in the air against the backdrop of crowded bleachers. Cut to wide shot: Tom instantly turns red.) TOM: (slapping his forehead) Ughhhhh... I thought I'd ripped those out. DARIA: I guess you missed one. (still smirking.) So, Young Thomas, you were a cheerleader. TOM: Why don't you just parade me around in speedos and a clown wig? It'd be less humiliating. ["All But Forgotten"] AMY: Please Daria, if there's any time you should trust me, it's now. I want your mom to get better, too. DARIA: (as though there's a painful knot in her throat) All right. I trust you. AMY: Thanks. DARIA: But... AMY: Yeah? DARIA: Just... (can't get the last words out.) AMY: (inviting) What? What's on your mind? DARIA: Nothing. ["Memory Road"] HELEN: Other people have suffered besides you. Your *boyfriend* had a rough childhood, but he made something of himself! (Hearing this, Amy's eyes narrow.) HELEN: But no, all your gifts and you choose to do nothing. Except build vain little fantasies about being rescued. *You're* the one who's dropped the ball, Amy! (Amy now turns her face to the side, absorbing Helen's words.) HELEN: And just when I feel ashamed of calling you a bad role model for my girls, it's times like this I know exactly why I did! AMY: ENOUGH! ["Into the Fire"] (Her smile fading, Quinn rolls the perfume bottle in her hand, then slowly lets it drop back into the box.) QUINN: (flat) She's *everywhere*. DARIA: Who? Mom? QUINN: No. *Her*. That woman Dad's dating who isn't Mom. DARIA: I didn't count more than three heads. QUINN: I mean she's *been* here. She's probably the one who bought me this perfume. DARIA: You don't know that. QUINN: *Think* about it, Daria. Do you really think *Dad* would know where to get us nice presents? DARIA: Deprive him of his familial comfort zone, and who knows *what* he's capable of. ["Tomorrow Never Knows"] QUINN: I know changing your appearance can be scary, Daria, but even after all I went through with Mr. Phelps... I don't regret getting glasses. I like the idea of being smart and I want to see where I can take it on my own. (Daria notes her sincere, warmly interested expression, and suddenly finds herself relaxing. She glances down at her contact lens case.) DARIA: You want to help me put them in? Thanks for reading! It's been fun. ; > This fanfic is the property of Kara Wild, copyright November 2005. All rights reserved.