NOTE: Although I was in high-school band, and I did play the tuba, the events and persons portrayed in this story are entirely fictional. This is not a self-insertion fic. My readers will also notice a slight change in format from my usual .txt fics. This is due to accommodate the requests of people with certain web-browsers that have difficulty with word-wrap functions. As always, feedback is appreciated, and can be directed to *DELETED* If you have a Daria-related website and want to display this fic, feel free to download it and do so -- I only ask that you let me know, and that you not make any changes whatsoever. CHRONOLOGY: This story takes place between seasons two and three, presumably -- it is the beginning of Daria's Junior year. Hence, characters like Tom do not yet exist, and the characters are still fairly unchanged from their original incarnations. Bear this in mind. DISCLAIMER: Daria and all related characters are the property of MTV, with the exception of characters created by the author exclusively for this story. This document was created solely for the pleasure of the author. Any attempt to profit from this document is punishable by law, and the author waives all liability. Daria in "Band Aid" by Admonisher March, 2000 (CAPTION: "Nine Years Ago ...") (As the caption FADES OUT, we hear the first unsteady strains of "Pop Goes The Weasel" played on the flute. FADE IN to EXT. a house in Highland. The camera slowly ZOOMS towards one window. The flute continues playing.) VOICE: No, no, you've got it all wrong! Try it again! (The ZOOM continues. The flute starts over, only to be cut off again.) VOICE: No! No! We're playing in C! It's the easiest key there is! Now TRY it AGAIN! (As the flute starts up again, we see a car pull into the driveway. A woman steps out of the passenger side and moves towards the house's front door. This time, we can hear that the song is almost perfect ... but the last note is flat.) VOICE: NOOOO! It's all wrong! Wait! Where are you going? (As the woman reaches the door, it flies open before she can knock. Out storms Daria, all of nine years old, clutching her flute in one hand and her case in the other, with music tucked beneath her arm. Face set in stone, she blows right passed her surprised mother, marches to the car, flings herself in the back seat and slams the door. At the house, her music teacher appears. He is tall, reedy, and fastidiously dressed.) HELEN: What was that all about? TEACHER: (throws up his hands) She can't even get the most basic melody right without butchering the music! Has she been practicing? HELEN: (defensive) Every day! We make her practice for an hour before dinner. TEACHER: Well something's not coming together, I tell you that. HELEN: (apologetic) Well, I'll talk to her. (she pulls out a check) Here's the money for this week's letter. Perhaps we'd better wait on this months advance, hmmm? (Without waiting for a reply, she hurries back to the car, turning to her daughter as Jake backs out of the driveway.) HELEN: Sweetie, what's wrong? Your teacher says your performance isn't showing any improvement. DARIA: I hate him! HELEN: Daria! That's a pretty mean thing to say. Why, sweetheart? DARIA: He makes me feel bad. Nothing's ever good enough. JAKE: The old guilt-trip, eh? Oh, do I ever know that! DARIA: And I hate playing the stupid flute! I hate the flute, and I hate being in band, and I hate lessons, and I hate doing some- thing I don't like just because other people tell me to like it! JAKE: Well that settles it! No daughter of MINE is going to be pressured into a lifestyle she doesn't want! No, sir! HELEN: Jake! Please! (turning to Daria) Now, honey, we don't want to make you do anything that makes you uncomfortable. If you don't like your music teacher, we can stop your lessons. I mean, you ARE only in the fourth grade, after all. DARIA: Band too! HELEN: Now are you really sure you want to do that, Daria? Band can be a lot of fun, and there are people you like in the band, right? (Daria scowls, and Helen looks off to the side as she remembers) Oh, yes. *Those* two. DARIA: No more band. HELEN: Well, all right, Daria ... I'll support your decision. I just don't want you to start thinking that quitting is okay. You'll never get anywhere in life if you don't participate. DARIA: (sullenly, to herself) No more band. Never again ... [CUT TO:] (CAPTION: "The Present") (We see a CLOSE-UP of an elective sign-up sheet reading "Lawndale High School," and PAN TO a list labeled "BAND." A hand moves into view and writes the name "Daria Morgendorffer." [CUT TO:] (CAPTION: "One Day Earlier") INT. MORGENDORFFER HOUSE -- KITCHEN (It's dinner-time, and the Morgendorffers are occupying their usual positions.) DARIA: English, Math, Science, Social Studies, Physical Education. Inane as it is, that's what the school requires every year. That leaves me one elective. That's all I get. HELEN: But, Daria, creative writing? Doesn't that seem a little redundant? DARIA: It's preparation for my future career. It was that or Psychology with Mrs. Manson. HELEN: It's just that this IS the beginning of your Junior year. I'd just like to see you, I don't know, broaden your horizons a little. DARIA: That's funny, because I was just thinking about how narrowing your focus has gotten *you* so far in life. (Helen starts a retort, but stops as she realizes that Daria has her backed into a corner. Daria smirks. Helen turns to Quinn.) HELEN: How about you, Quinn? What elective are you taking? QUINN: (cheery) Home Economics. JAKE: (encouraging) Atta girl, Quinn! You're gonna make some lucky fella a *great* wife! QUINN: (conspiratorially) Some rich, attractive, well-dressed lucky fellow, who'll go golfing with you and your wealthy clientele while I take his credit cards to the mall. (They laugh together. They've had this planned out for some time.) HELEN: Jake! Quinn! You are NOT a wife-in-training, you are a high school sophomore! QUINN: Oh, Mom, you worry too much. I'm not ready for *marriage*. Getting married is like buying a new car. You have to test-drive! DARIA: ... every car in the lot. Twice. HELEN: Daria! Can't we just *once* have a *normal* family dinner? *Honestly!* DARIA: Relax, Mom. Somehow I doubt Quinn's primary goal is either Home Ec. *or* getting married. (Meanwhile, Quinn and Jake exchange winks and he slips her a $20 under the table. She's obviously playing him for money. Helen scowls.) INT. LAWNDALE HIGH SCHOOL -- DARIA'S LOCKER (Jane waits as Daria retrieves books from her locker.) JANE: You're *sure* you won't reconsider taking art class. DARIA: That's really more your forte. I took art last year, and I think I've about reached my apex. JANE: (dramatic) Fine. Cast me aside. (beat) But if Brittany comes to me trying to match crayons to nail-polish *one* more time, I'm going to suggest to her how *creative* her writing is. DARIA: You'd unleash that mind on the literary world? JANE: Hey, she already writes that advice column. DARIA: Yeah. But that only hurts the people who deserve it. (Jodie approaches, bearing an armload of pamphlets. She opens her mouth to speak.) DARIA: No. JODIE: Excuse me? JANE: Whatever you're selling, we don't want any. JODIE: (sighs) You guys could at least humor me. DARIA: Very well. Speak, and let the laughter commence. JODIE: I'm just making sure everyone knows about all their academic options. It's still not too late to switch classes or sign-up for extra-curriculars, you know. DARIA: Sorry. That would require me second-guessing that little voice that tells me what's right and wrong and how to live my life. JODIE: (senses a punchline) Your conscience? DARIA: Hmmm ... no, that doesn't sound right. JANE: She means me. DARIA: (looking around) There it is again. JODIE: (depressed chuckle) You two are hopeless. Here, will you at least take a pamphlet? (She holds it out and Daria takes it) Thanks. You know, you two are good people. You should take a chance on something. JANE: (offering) I get up in the morning. DARIA: I eat my dad's cooking. When I'm feeling lucky. (Jodie shakes her head and moves further down the hall towards the Fashion Club. Daria hands the pamphlet to Jane.) DARIA: Here. You can read this on the way to gym. Maybe there's some way to get out of *that* class. INT. GYMNASIUM (Welcome to Hell. The students are lined up in their blue-shorts, gray- shirt uniforms military-fashion before a pacing Ms. Morris.) MORRIS: This year the school is going to be placing *special attention* on physical education. JANE: There's that word again. MORRIS: Silence! Now as I was saying, the Board of Administrators is going to be watching us *closely*. I'm going to expect 115% from each of you. DARIA: I guess giving your all isn't what it used to be. MORRIS: Alright, that's it! I've had it with you two! Hit the bleachers! DARIA: But my sensitive knuckles ... MORRIS: NOW! [CUT TO:] (Daria and Jane are sitting on the bleachers, alone. Jane is smirking.) JANE: Well, what a refreshing way to start off the school year. DARIA: And all it cost us was three days detention. MORRIS: (off-screen) You call that a crunch, dammit? I want to see blood on those elbows! DARIA AND JANE: Worth it. DARIA: And look. We even get a free half-time show. (They look to the left, where the Color Guard is practicing a multi- flag routine to a tape cassette of the band playing the school fight song.) [CUT TO:] (The base of the bleachers, where the Fashion Club is taking a breather. Sandi seems to be having the worst of it, but the other three members aren't exactly pert and pretty.) TIFFANY: This sweat is, like, soooo bad for sensitive skin. QUINN: (wailing) And my *hair*. STACY: (pointing) Hey look! It's the Marching Band Color Guard! SANDI: (distasteful) Yes. With their matching little uniforms. How cute. STACY: You know what *I* heard? I heard that if you're in the Color Guard, you don't *have* to be in gym class, because marching band counts as a sport! SANDI: *Those* losers will accept *anyone*. STACY: (missing the point) Even us! SANDI: (annoyed) A-hem! We've, like, been over this before. The Color Guard, as appealing an alternative as they present, suffer the same shortcomings as the Cheerleading Squad. One outfit, all the time, with *no* regard for current fashion trends. QUINN: I don't know Sandi, I mean they've got *lots* of outfits, and maybe if *we* controlled them ... SANDI: I said no, Quinn. What do you think this is -- a democracy? QUINN: Well you are the *President*, Sandi. SANDI: Fine. So we'll vote. All in favor of signing up for Color Guard. (Quinn and Stacy raise their hands) All opposed. (Sandi and Tiffany raise their hands) I believe in the event of a stale- mate, the President has the final word. MS. MORRIS: (approaching) Ladies! Why aren't you on the rope? (She points, and we zoom to see "the rope," a horrible, rough, knotty lanyard hanging from the ceiling. Zoom in close to the hoary, blistering surface amid horrible dramatic chords.) STACY: (dramatic close-up) Blisters! TIFFANY: (dramatic close-up) Nails! QUINN: (dramatic close-up) Scuffing! SANDI: (dramatic close-up) ... QUINN: Sandi? SANDI: Quiet! I'm trying to think! DARIA: (still watching from the bleachers) Don't hurt yourself. (Daria normally weirds Sandi out too much to consider bothering with, but in this instance, her present disposition gets the better of her and she shoots Daria a dagger-like stare. Daria raises an eyebrow and gives back as much. Sandi freaks and hurriedly turns back to her "friends.") SANDI: Perhaps I was a bit ... hasty in dismissing the whole getting- out-of-gym thing. [CUT TO:] (Back to the bleachers.) DARIA: Was that true what they said about the band? That you can get out of gym class for the entire year? JANE: (flipping through the pamphlet) Actually ... yes. MORRIS: (off-screen) I'll take the duct tape off your hands when you give me three more *real* chin-ups. JANE: And come to think of it, signing up doesn't sound like such a bad idea at this point. DARIA: You mean ... actually *join* something. JANE: Think of it as *escaping* something else. DARIA: I don't know. I swore I'd never play the flute again, and I meant it. JANE: Is there anything else you can play? DARIA: Well ... I can play the cymbals, sort of. It's just a lot of counting and clapping. And at least that way I'd be dishing out the headaches. JANE: (sagely) 'Tis better to give than to receive. DARIA: (deep breath) Alright. Let's do it. INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- HALLWAY (Daria and Jane, walking down the hallway. How's that for originality?) DARIA: I'll probably regret this later ... but I'd regret it even more if I passed up an opportunity to escape Hell, no matter how suspect. JANE: Yeah! (encouraging) Did Orpheus ever look back? (Daria gives her a look) That's a bad example, isn't it. (beat) Look, *you're* the lit. expert. (Daria and Jane approach Jodie, who is sitting at a portable table. The wall behind her is covered in various sign up sheets.) JODIE: (more tired than irritated) If you're thinking of making one more smart-ass comment about joiners, try to hold it in. I'm afraid I might start agreeing with you. DARIA: Boy. And here we were, just about to sign up for band. JODIE: (losing her patience) Daria ... JANE: No, she's serious! We figure it's a better alternative to gym class. That pamphlet you gave us was really helpful and informative. JODIE: (sardonic) And here I was counting on you guys to validate my depression. DARIA: I guess pessimism's just not for everybody. JODIE: The school band sign up sheet is over there. You do know that it's marching season right? DARIA: Wait a minute ... *marching* band? As in waddling around the football field dressed like Christmas-tree ornaments in front of the entire town? JODIE: Think of it this way: if you're all wearing the same thing, it'll be pretty hard to pick you out of a crowd. JANE: Besides, Daria, you're constantly alienated, unpopular and jeered at by losers. Why not share that special feeling with dozens of your peers? Be an outcast among outcasts. DARIA: (sighs) You're really looking forward to this, aren't you. JANE: (indicates the wall) There's the sign-up sheet. DARIA: (pause) Alright. You go first. (Jane picks up the pen and scribbles her name.) JANE: Painless. (squints) Although I think I can make out the diabolical visage of John Phillips Sousa hovering before my eyes. JODIE: (hands Daria a pen) Your turn. (Daria takes a deep breath, and we CLOSE-UP on the sign-up sheet.) DARIA: Here goes nothing. (We recognize the clip of Daria signing her name from the beginning of the episode. At least you *should* recognize it -- I mean, I just *told* you for crying out loud. Anyway, as Daria signs her name, we hear the opening strains of the "Liberty Bell March" (the Monty Python theme song to the enlightened.) Sure enough, CUT TO: an animated foot, squashing the image on the screen M.P.-style. The music cuts off abruptly, and we do a swift PAN BACK to reveal that it is Kevin's bare foot. He is hopping up and down in pain clutching his other foot. Coach Gibson (reffed in the Daria books, but thus far unseen) is shaking his head in disgust.) GIBSON: For God's sake, Kevin, don't try kicking barefoot if you haven't TRAINED for it! I am NOT going to allow you to throw out your God damned ankle the week before the big game! KEVIN: (stops hopping) Does that mean I can take the rest of practice off? GIBSON: NO! Walk it off! VOICE: (distant; off-screen) Okay, let's start it up again. (The "Liberty Bell March" starts up again.) WIDE SHOT: FOOTBALL FIELD (The band is assembled on one half of the football field, in a circular formation. The other half is occupied by the football team, which is running drills.) CLOSE UP: DIRECTOR'S PODIUM (The podium is a large metal device with stairs. Daria and Jane approach and look up. A tall, emaciated, balding man with large glasses is conducting as the band performs. They sound confident -- not "good" exactly, but confident. As the band stops playing, Daria gets that sick-to-her-stomach look.) DARIA: Umm ... maybe this wasn't such a good idea ... JANE: No! No! None of that! It's too late for cold feet. (raising her voice; "Dolores" mode) Sir! We're here to join up! (The man has descended the ladder at this point, and looks at the girls nervously. He seems about to speak, when a harsh voice from off-screen cuts him off.) VOICE: Melvin! (The voice is gratingly nasal -- like a male version of Kate Mulgrew. Within seconds, the owner of the voice moves onto the screen. To put it politely, he is a balding man of large girth, with tiny glasses on the end of his nose and a small moustache. With his perpetual scowl, he *does* look something like a "diabolical" version of John Phillips Sousa.) MAN: Melvin! (the thin man flinches) What in blazes is going on here? MELVIN: (stammering) I'm ... I'm sorry, Mr. Bell, sir, I was just trying something different. You know ... some Sousa, and I ... BELL: (disappointed sigh) Melvin ... *think*, Melvin ... the first performance is a week away! This is NO time to move away from the established material, especially when ... (he trails off as he notices Daria and Jane) Who are these two? MELVIN: Well, I ... I don't know, sir, I was just about to find out, sir. BELL: (ignores him, confronting Jane and Daria) Yes, well, speak up! Who are you and what do you want? JANE: (a bit put-off) I'm Jane Lane, and this is Daria Morgendorffer. We were *about* to see "Melvin" here about joining the band ... DARIA: And we kind of assumed that the person *conducting* the band was ... BELL: (personality shift) Oh? Join the band, you say? Well, that's fine. That's just fine. You were just headed for the wrong person, that's all. I'm the man to see. I'm the Band Director here. Melvin is my assistant. DARIA: (sarcastic) I bet *that* works out pretty well for you. BELL: (is she being sarcastic?) Yes, well ... he's gaining valuable experience. Look, if you want to join up, I'll gladly *take* you. (Daria and Jane exchange glances ... something about the way he says "take") But you're too late for this afternoon's rehearsal. I guess we'll see you tonight. DARIA: Tonight? BELL: One night a week during Marching Season we have rehearsal. We get the football field all to ourselves. Not too much to ask, considering you don't have any homework beyond practicing. 6:00 to 7:30. JANE: (shrugs; to Daria) That's not entirely unreasonable. DARIA: (can't think of anything to complain about) I suppose not. BELL: Excellent! INT. LANE RESIDENCE -- KITCHEN (Daria and Jane sit at the kitchen table with cans of soda.) DARIA: Why do I feel like I just sold my soul to the Devil? JANE: That leftover pizza you just ate? DARIA: I don't think so. JANE: Oh, come on, Daria. So you're trying something new. And in the *Fine Arts*, no less. How bad could it be? DARIA: I don't know, let me think ... BEGIN FLASHBACK. (Young Daria in Band, struggling to play along to the communal chaos as the band attempts "Pop Goes the Weasel." From behind her, we hear loud crashes and bangs from the percussion section, accompanied by the familiar "Heh-heh" and "Huh-huh." As we hear the unseen boys begin an air-guitar solo, we ripple back to the present.) END FLASHBACK. (Back to the Lane kitchen. Trent and Jesse walk onto the screen, moving away from the basement door.) TRENT: Hey, Janey. Hey, Daria. What's going on? DARIA: (flatly) We just joined the school band. TRENT: They have a band now? Hey, that's cool. Maybe Mystik Spiral can give you some pointers. DARIA: (mildly embarrassed) Um ... actually ... it's the marching band. TRENT: (covering) Oh ... well, that's cool ... JANE: You don't have to pretend, Trent. We know it's the lamest thing ever. We're doing it to get out of gym class. TRENT: (visibly relieved) Okay, *that's* cool. I'm not sure how long I could live a lie. JANE: Yeah, Trent, you really don't have *any* delusions, do you? TRENT: (smirks) Not about high school band, anyway. JESSE: (perking up) They have a band now? Cool. (They all stare for a second.) DARIA: We've got practice in a few hours. It seemed pretty useless to bother going home. Which reminds me, can I use your phone? I'd better call my parents and let them know where I'll be tonight. (Trent walks over and grabs the phone for her.) DARIA: Thanks. (she dials) SPLIT SCREEN: DARIA/JAKE (Jake is sitting in the kitchen, tapping his pencil against the counter. The phone rings, and he pounces on it.) JAKE: (breathless) Jake Morgendorffer consulting, Jake Morgendorffer speaking! Is this a client?! DARIA: Um ... no -- JAKE: DAMN! (slams the phone down) SINGLE SCREEN: DARIA (Daria eyes the phone, then dials again.) SPLIT SCREEN: DARIA/HELEN (Helen is pacing in the living room on her cellphone.) HELEN: ... so then I told him, "You expect class-action with *that* kind of allegation?" Naturally, he was impressed by how quickly I took charge of the situation, and ... oh, will you hang on a second? I have another call ... Hello? ... No, Quinn's *not* here, I don't *know* where she is, and for the last time, *stop* calling! ... Hello? ... Yes, I'm back ... SINGLE SCREEN: DARIA DARIA: Well, I gave it my best shot. (She hands the phone back to Trent, and he hangs it up.) TRENT: Hey, you want a ride? I finally got those squirrels out of the back seat that were living off the stuff in the upholstery cracks. JESSE: We tried poking them out with sticks, but that only made them angry. So we lured 'em out with sunflower seeds. JANE: (hastily) I'll tell ya what. We'll *walk* to practice, and you can power-scrub the car. Then you can pick us up at 7:30 sharp. DARIA: (softly, to Jane) You're trusting him to be on time? JANE: (to Trent) And come early. You can watch the cheerleaders. TRENT: (raises an interested eyebrow) Oh, uh ... don't worry, Janey, I'll be there on time. DARIA: (under her breath) I'll bet you will. (Jane smirks.) EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD -- NIGHT (It is sometime before the beginning of practice. Floodlights wash over the field, and we [CUT TO:] Tiffany and Stacy, examining their new uniforms -- a skirt with a long-sleeved sweater; white, with gold and blue/purple trim. A blue, gold-bordered "L" is stitched across the front.) STACY: (delighted) Wow! TIFFANY: You're cuuuute, Stacy. (beat) Does this skirt make me look fat? (Zoom to Quinn and Sandi, who is not entirely displeased. Quinn is holding an oversized, decorative flag at her side.) QUINN: See, Sandi, this isn't so bad. SANDI: (aloof; admiring her nails) The prospect of *fashionable* performance is not without its perks. We shall see. (The pair is approached by a young, Hispanic woman who looks to be in her late-teens, early twenties. She also wears the uniform.) WOMAN: Hi! I'm Lana, from the community college. I'm your Color Guard Captain. SANDI: (unsure) Um ... hello. LANA: You know, I've seen you girls before. The Fashion Club, right? QUINN: Why, yes -- SANDI: (interrupting; smiling graciously) Sandi Griffin. I *am* the *President* of the Fashion Club, yes. (beat) You know, we *did* have some reservations about joining ... LANA: Oh, you do *not* have to worry. See that? (she indicates a box sitting at the sidelines) *Those* are our accessories. Scarves, hairpieces, you name it. We coordinate them with our flags. Say, Sandi, if you're *president* of the Fashion Club, maybe You'd like to give me your opinions on some of these colors? SANDI: (beaming) Why, Lana, I'd be delighted. QUINN: (finally getting in a word) *I'm* VICE-president of the Fashion Club! LANA: Oh, really? That's nice. Why don't you introduce yourself to the rest of the squad. (Sandi and Lana walk off. A chagrined Quinn drops her flag, stunned.) VOICE: Quinn! (Quinn turns around. It is Brooke, from "Too Cute," complete with collapsed nose. She, too, wears the uniform of the Color Guard.) QUINN: Brooke! (nervous laugh) Um ... I really didn't expect to find *you* here ... BROOKE: Yeah, I know, isn't it great? God, I haven't talked to you in, like, *forever*! QUINN: Yeah, well ... (uncomfortable laugh) Um, you know how ... things get ... BROOKE: Oh, yeah, I understand completely! But, hey, now that we're both in the Color Guard, we'll be able to spend LOTS of time together! QUINN: (frowning; looking off to the side) That's great, Brooke. Just great. [DISSOLVE TO:] EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD -- LATER THAT EVENING (The band wraps up the final two notes of the Fight Song.) [CUT TO:] EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD -- PODIUM MELVIN: All right, a, a ten-minute break before positions. Squad leaders see me for drill-formation charts. (Jane and Daria approach the podium. Daria is limping. Bell approaches the girls with a big frown on his face.) BELL: You two are ten minutes late! You missed the warm up! JANE: Daria slipped and threw out her ankle on the way here. We went back to get her an ankle-bandage. BELL: That's no excuse! I expected you two early! *Don't* let this happen again. DARIA: I'll keep that in mind next time I *decide* to fall down. BELL: (frowns) Where are your instruments? DARIA: You don't provide them? BELL: The band encourages students to provide their own instruments. That way the band can put the budget towards other, more necessary things. DARIA: What's more necessary for a band than instruments. BELL: (scowling harder) There *is* an equipment truck over there. What exactly is it that you girls play? DARIA: Um ... cymbals, sir. BELL: There's a spare pair in the truck. You think you can find the percussion section? DARIA: (looking around) If by "percussion section" you mean "large group of guys with their shirts pulled over their heads" ... yes. Unfortunately. BELL: Wonderful. Now get moving! Time is money! Now, Ms ... JANE: Jane. BELL: Jane ... what's *your* musical experience? JANE: Well, I took piano lessons for a few months ... BELL: Skip the biography. What instrument do you play now? JANE: Um ... VOICE: (whispering) Tuba. (Jane moves her eyes back. One of the squad leaders getting charts from Melvin is standing a few feet behind her. He nods.) JANE: (to Bell) I play the tuba, sir! (whispering back) Tuba? VOICE: (whispering) Trust me. JANE: (shrugs -- he's cute; red hair, green eyes) Yep ... I play the tuba. BELL: (squinting) Hmmm ... you're in luck. Our second-chair tuba had an untimely scheduling problem. (beat) You're in. Go suit up. [CUT TO:] EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD -- BAND (Daria, holding a pair of ancient cymbals, is making her way through the band, looking around nervously as she threads through various small groups of people.) DARIA: (to herself) Okay, don't panic. So you're surrounded by freaks. But it's for a good cause. You don't know anyone, and nobody knows you. VOICE: Hey, Daria! DARIA: Don't panic. Remain calm. (Ted DeWitt-Clinton from "The New Kid" runs onto the screen, holding a trumpet.) TED: Hey, Daria! I didn't know you were in band! DARIA: Um ... hi, Ted. I sort of just joined up. So, ah ... how's yearbook going? TED: Oh, pretty good. It hasn't been the same since you left. But they've devoted a whole eighth of a page to crafts and metalwork! Hey! Do you like my cornet? DARIA: (flatly) It's lovely. I suppose you forged it yourself out of brass coins in your homemade smithy? TED: (puzzled) Um ... no, we bought it at the music store. (laughs) You're funny, Daria! DARIA: (mortified) Yes, well ... if you'll excuse me, I think I hear my section calling. [CUT TO:] EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD -- BAND (Jane is standing next to the boy she has just met. He is carrying a sousaphone (a large, wrap-around marching tuba with a giant bell.) Jane's own instrument is on the ground next to her.) JANE: So, Michael ... I play tuba, do I? MIKE: Mike, please. Was what you said about piano lessons true? JANE: Yes, but I haven't played in years. MIKE: That's fine. You probably still remember a little bit about how to read bass clef. What you don't remember will come back to you. Sousaphone is also a good instrument to start up on. With the music *we* play, you'll either have one sustained note, or two "oom-pah" notes to repeat. Pretty simple stuff. JANE: That's sound reasoning. So ... (gestures towards the sousaphone at her feet) this thing isn't going to mutilate my shoulder or anything, is it? MIKE: (smiles) You may be sore for a few days, but these sousas are made of mostly fiberglass, not solid brass. As a beginner, you'll appreciate the large mouthpiece. JANE: Oh, certainly. MIKE: It takes a lot of air to fill up the horn, but I'm sure that won't be a problem for someone like *you*. JANE: (raising an eyebrow) Oh? And just what gives you *that* impression? MIKE: You're a runner, right? Didn't I see you at one of the big track meets last semester? JANE: (pleased) Yeah, I did track for a few weeks last year, before the inherent corruption soured me to the experience. I'm surprised you remember. (Jane temporarily joined the track team in the episode "See Jane Run.") MIKE: (smiling) You were hard to forget. (Jane smiles back) If you run often, you probably have good diaphragm control. You'll pick this up in a cinch. [CUT TO:] EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD -- BAND (Two drummers are mock-dueling with their drumsticks. Off to the right, Daria is trying hard to be as invisible as possible. Jodie walks up carrying a clarinet.) JODIE: Hi, Daria. Everything going alright? DARIA: (not happy, but not distressed) As well as can be expected, I suppose. At least no one's breathing down my neck demanding that I do jumping-jacks. (holds up some small sheets of paper) And I remember how to count music, anyway. These songs are pretty easy, aren't they. JODIE: Yeah. Mr. Bell likes to keep things nice and simple. We win a lot more prizes that way when we go to band festivals. DARIA: That seems like a pretty boring way to do things. JODIE: Tell me about it. The formations we're marching are pretty inane, too. Just a lot of squares and circles. You'll catch on fast. It's really maddening, but it seems to please the judges. DARIA: You'd think that bands would be rewarded for striving for something better than the norm, even if they don't completely reach it. JODIE: You'd think so, wouldn't you? Once and a while Mr. Melvin will manage to slip something by Mr. Bell. He just doesn't have the guts to argue with him. [CUT TO:] EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD -- BAND (Back to Jane and Mike. Jane is wearing her sousaphone at this point, looking slightly awkward, but carrying it well.) JANE: So why tuba? Why not something smaller and more manageable, like trumpet? MIKE: Honestly? Well, personally, I just like it. But there are perks. Like being in the back of the band, for example. We're usually the farthest away from the director, and trust me, that's a good thing! And check this out ... you can't do *this* with a trumpet. (He looks over to the left, and Jane follows his gaze. Upchuck, sporting a trombone, is leering among several of the flute players.) UPCHUCK: So, ladies, care to try out my trom-*boner* for size? I just oiled it. Rrrrrowr! (As Upchuck speaks, a giant sousa bell lowers into place behind him. The flute players back away.) UPCHUCK: Off so soon, girls? You don't have to be coy with me! I'm sure we can fin -- (Upchuck is cut off mid-sentence by a deafening BWWWAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!! from the sousaphone bell that frames his head like a halo. He shrieks in panic, dropping the trombone and fleeing off to the side. PAN BACK to show Mike holding the sousa, grinning.) JANE: (appreciative) Neat trick. MIKE: (smirks) It also works on airheads, French Horns, or any combination of the two. EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD -- LATER THAT NIGHT (Wide shot of the band, standing in a large block formation, playing the final few notes of a typical march.) [CUT TO:] EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD -- COLOR GUARD (As the band finishes up, the Color Guard strike a final pose. The Fashion Club is a little unsteady compared to the experienced girls, especially Brooke. Quinn, however, manages to hold in place longer than her comrades.) LANA: Okay, that was good. Let's tighten it up a little! Remember, next time we rehearse you'll have to walk with the rest of the band. One more time, to the Fight Song, then you can go home. [CUT TO:] EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD -- SIDELINE (Trent is sprawled over the bottom bleacher, watching the Color Guard rehearse. Daria walks up, holding a black cymbal-case like a purse in one hand.) DARIA: Hey, Trent. TRENT: Hey, Daria. (points) That's your sister out there, isn't it? She's pretty good. DARIA: Uh ... yeah. I guess so. (Jane walks up.) JANE: Hey, Trent, you're actually here! Cool. Listen, go ahead and take Daria home. I've decided to stay here a little bit. Mike's going to give me a ride. (Daria gives her a look. Not a *nasty* look, per-se. Just a bit irked.) JANE: Hey! I need work, there's no denying it. DARIA: You need work, all right. (beat) Just promise me you won't do anything impulsive. JANE: (scoffing) Hey, it's me! (beat) Don't worry, tonight is strictly a matter of practicality. (Jane exits and Quinn enters, practice flag in hand.) QUINN: Hey, Daria. God, my legs are killing me. (notices Trent) Oh, hey, Daria's friend's brother! TRENT: (raises an eyebrow) Whoa. I have a name. QUINN: Whatever. Say, do you think you could give me a ride home in that thing you drive? (charm-mode) I'd really appreciate it. DARIA: Hop on the bandwagon. There's just been a sudden vacancy. EXT. MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE -- TRENT'S CAR -- NIGHT (Trent pulls up to the curb outside the Morgendorffer house. Daria gets out of the passenger-side seat and Quinn exits behind her, pushing the flag out first. Daria leans back inside.) DARIA: Thanks for the ride. (The siblings sneak quietly up to the front door, opening it with care, only to find Helen and Jake blocking the entrance, arms crossed and faces upset.) JAKE: You girls have some explaining to do! HELEN: Where have you two been?! Your father and I have been worried sick about you! Now this has happened before, and we simply can't tolerate ano ... (trails off) Quinn, why are you carrying a flag? DARIA: (deadpan) Surprise. We joined the marching band. QUINN: ("as-if" laugh) Puh-leeze! *Daria* joined the *band*. (cute mode) I joined the Color Guard! HELEN: (at a loss) You ... but ... and ... DARIA: I tried to call home with the joyous news, but *someone* was tying up the phone lines. HELEN: Well, I suppose ... but ... let me see if I understand you correctly. You two ... *joined* ... the *band*? QUINN: Muh-omm! *Color Guard*? JAKE: (scratching the back of his neck in confusion) I don't understand. Daria, you're playing the flute again? DARIA: Not flute. Cymbals. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm all tuckered out after this exhausting night of participation. (The girls slip past their parents, leaving Helen and Jake looking at each other quizzically. Jake shrugs.) INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- SCIENCE CLASS -- THE NEXT DAY (An extremely frustrated Mrs. Barch is fiddling with a rusty microscope. She's twisting the knob, but she can't make the scope move up or down. PAN TO Daria and Jane, working with petrii dishes at one of the work stations.) JANE: ... so at least the schedule change puts us in the same science class. DARIA: No more partnerships with Brittany or Kevin. So how's your shoulder? JANE: (rubs it) A little sore. Not *nearly* as sore as my body would be after a few days of gym class, though. DARIA: And how was your date? JANE: It really wasn't a date. We worked on my embouchure. DARIA: Your what? JANE: The position of your lips. (beat, as Daria stares) On the mouthpiece! (beat) Of the instrument! (beat) The *tuba*? (Daria smirks) Geez, *your* mind is in the gutter today. Here, help me clean up this water. DARIA: Wait! Don't touch it. (They look at the desk. One of the beakers is leaking from a crack in the side.) DARIA: That's not water, that's hydrochloric acid. JANE: Is it just me, or are we running unusually low on fresh supplies this year? (Off to the side, Barch, with a grunt of frustration, accidentally twists off the knob she's been working at. With a sharp cry, she flings it off to the side, where it bounces off of Upchuck's head.) DARIA: It's not just you. And it's not just science. Mr. DeMartino's geography maps are falling apart. So are Mr. O'Neill's text- books. It's not even a week into the semester, and already this place is going to hell in a handbasket. JANE: What about all that money everybody keeps anticipating? Ms. Morris was pretty intense about being "evaluated," and I heard Mrs. Bennett say something about a grant. DARIA: I don't know. But something stinks in this school. And I don't just mean my sister's perfume. INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- BAND ROOM (Daria and Jane walk through the door. Bell notices them.) BELL: You're late! DARIA: (looking at her watch) It's still two minutes until class. BELL: Early is on-time, on-time is late! And *late* is inexcusable! (Frowning, Daria and Jane walk to the back of the room and pick up their instruments. Mike walks into view, along with Jodie.) JODIE: Hey, guys. MIKE: Hey, Jane. (to Daria) Daria, right? DARIA: Yeah. Hi. Is your fearless leader always so cheery? MIKE: Mr. Bell? I'm afraid so. He has this idea that if students are afraid, they'll work harder. DARIA: Fear and guilt: the two great motivators. MIKE: Exactly. JANE: (pulling on her sousaphone) Say, you wouldn't happen to know anything about this budget thing everyone's all worked up about, would you? JODIE: As a matter of fact, I do. We've been discussing it in Student Council. The School Board just got a big grant from some wealthy alumni. DARIA: You mean there are people who came out of Lawndale and went on to be *successful*? JODIE: *Very* successful. The grant's supposed to go where it's needed the most. But, of course, Li gets to decide who gets it. DARIA AND JANE: (simultaneously) Sports. JODIE: You got it. Normally, this bonus would leave more money for academics, and Band would benefit too. But Bell wants a piece of the big money. MIKE: He's been lobbying for band to be categorized as a physical activity so he can compete with sports. JANE: I think I'm starting to catch on. If Bell can show-up the football team at the game this week ... DARIA: ... thus bringing honnnnor to Lawndale High ... JANE: ... Li will reward him with funding. MIKE: Bingo. Problem is, Bell's not going to use that money for us. It'll go to further our "prestige." He's even talking about building us a new band room. DARIA: What's wrong with this one? MIKE: No deluxe stereo system. JANE: If band gets the grant, sports isn't going to like it. MIKE: (philosophically) Nope. My guess is they'll end up dipping into the academic budget. (shrugs) Whaddaya gonna do? (Mike and Jodie move off. Daria and Jane look at each other and frown.) INT. MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE -- UPSTAIRS HALLWAY -- THAT EVENING (The view is outside Daria's door. We hear loud, rhythmic cymbal- crashing. Quinn stalks into view from the direction of her room, flag in hand. She knocks. There is a pause before the door opens.) DARIA: What do *you* want? QUINN: I am *trying* to practice my flag routine, and *your* playing is throwing me off. DARIA: Well *I* need to practice too. And in case you didn't notice, there's no quiet way to play the cymbals. QUINN: Well, I'm sorry, Daria, but the situation is absolutely unacceptable. We'll just have to work together. DARIA: (eyes wide) Pardon me. Did you just say "work together"? As in "cooperate?" QUINN: Well, I mean, we're both practicing to the same music. I have a demo tape Lana gave me. We can play it on your stereo. DARIA: Um ... okay. I guess that'll work. You're really serious about this color guard thing, aren't you? QUINN: Well, Daria, it's not like I can let Sandi use this as an excuse to show everyone how much *better* she is. Not that she *is* better. But she'll try, oh yes. She's probably practicing right now. [CUT TO:] INT. GRIFFIN RESIDENCE -- SANDI'S ROOM (Sandi is indeed swinging her flag as a band tape plays in the background. PAN BACK to show she is swinging her flag at her younger brothers Sam and Chris, who are running around her waving her multicolor sashes behind them, laughing maniacally.) SANDI: You little rodents! Give those back! [CUT TO:] INT. MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE -- DARIA'S ROOM (Quinn pops the tape into Daria's stereo and the music begins. She launches into her routine as Daria plays along.) DARIA: (raising her voice so Quinn can hear) You know, there is an upside to this. (smirks) We're probably annoying the hell out of Mom and Dad. [CUT TO:] INT. MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE -- LIVING ROOM (As they listen to the sounds of rehearsal from upstairs, Helen and Jake are cuddling on the couch, smiling beatifically.) HELEN: Oh, Jake ... isn't it beautiful? Our daughters ... trying something new ... participating in something they've never done before ... *together*. (romantically) We've been very good parents, Jake. You know what that means ... JAKE: Rrrowr! (The pair collapse into a passionate embrace.) EXT. MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE -- NIGHT (Faint sounds of Daria and Quinn practicing can be heard, as we see Helen and Jake's embracing silhouettes through the living room window. Band music wells up in the background, leading into ...) [MONTAGE SEQUENCE:] (Daria marching back and forth between two drummers on the field.) (Quinn finishing a Color Guard routine in perfect form. Sandi scowls.) (Jane marching. She trips. On the sidelines, Bell frowns at her.) (Ms. Morris berating her students.) (The entire Fashion Club finishing a routine in perfect form.) (Coach Gibson shouting out angrily as Kevin and Mack lead a play.) (CLOSE UP on a giant cymbal-crash.) INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- HALLWAY -- LATER THAT WEEK (Kevin and Brittany are walking down the hallway, approaching Daria and Jane.) KEVIN: Man, I can't *believe* the school isn't buying us new cleats this semester! BRITTANY: It's, like, so unfair! How can we be expected to be just as cheery as *last* year if they won't give us new pom-poms? KEVIN: I *know*! (notices Daria) Hey! *There's* one of the band traitors now! Hi, *backstabber!* DARIA: Excuse me? KEVIN: Because of you and your stupid band, Coach says I might have to buy my own shoes this year! Do you *know* how much these cost? JANE: Perhaps they'd last longer if you didn't wear them constantly. BRITTANY: And perhaps *you* should go back to the band room where you *came* from and leave the real school spirit to us! DARIA: Trust me, if I *had* any school spirit, I'd put it out of its misery. (Brittany squeals with outrage, and the pair storm off.) JANE: Oh, I'd like to get *her* head inside a sousaphone. DARIA: I bet she gets great acoustics. Does this seem at all strange to you? JANE: That once again we've been spit-upon for an association we don't like and didn't exactly want in the first place? (beat) Nope, no surprise at all. DARIA: That's what I was afraid of. INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- BAND ROOM (It is before class. The Color Guard has congregated in one corner of the room. Sandi and Quinn are off to one side, while Tiffany and Stacy sit on the floor next to Brooke, in rapt attention.) BROOKE: So then, I said, "No way! It looks much better on you!" I mean, it didn't really, but I figure *those* two were made for each other, so that makes it all right. STACY: (enthralled) Wow! I've missed you, Brooke! TIFFANY: Totally. BROOKE: I've missed you guys too! STACY: It's like, when we're out there in the Fashion Club, we have to, like, worry about everything like who we talk to, or what we wear, I mean, not like I *didn't* want to talk to you, Brooke, because I *did*, but it's like, none of that matters now 'cause we're all in this *thing* together, and it is *so cool*! TIFFANY: (beat) Exactly. (PAN TO Sandi and Quinn.) QUINN: You know, Sandi, I've been thinking. We've had some tough times in the past, I mean, keeping up with *you*? Who wouldn't? SANDI: (grinning) It *is* difficult, isn't it? QUINN: Yes, but that's the price we pay for fashion, and I love it dearly. But it has been nice having the whole "outfit barrier" removed -- for short periods of time, anyway. And I feel I've really gotten to know you better as a friend. (beat) I mean, *look* at us! We're, like, the most popular people in the *room* and we don't even NEED different outfits! SANDI: That is, like, so true. (The two laugh pleasantly. Sandi looks over at Stacy and Tiffany.) SANDI: Look at them. Wasting their time on the *un*-fashionable. QUINN: (shrugs) I suppose it's good for their morale. (They don't notice the enormous bell lowering into place behind them. Another sonorous BLAAAAAP! explodes from the instrument, and we are treated to the sight of Quinn and Sandi jumping like jackrabbits, tearing around in small circles, and then crashing into each other and falling to the ground, stunned.) (PAN BACK to show Jane wearing the sousaphone the bell is attached to. Daria stands next to her. Both are smirking.) JANE: That was uncalled for, you know. DARIA: And that's what made it funny. MELVIN: (off-screen) Places, everyone! P-p-please take your places! [CUT TO:] (At the podium, Melvin is addressing the class, still exhibiting his nervous twitching, despite the absence of Mr. Bell.) MELVIN: All ... all right, we're going to, to, to try the Sousa again. M-maybe if we get it down ... well, let's just try it again. (Melvin begins distributing the music. Daria is standing behind Ted.) DARIA: Doesn't Mr. Bell ever actually *direct* you guys? TED: Nope. He mostly supervises. Mr. Melvin does most of the directing. You know, they've only been here since last semester. (laughs) In fact, I'll bet if Mr. Bell ever actually *tried* to direct us, we wouldn't know what to do! But he's the band director! (laughs again) Isn't that a *delicious* irony? DARIA: (deadpan) Yeah, scrumptious. [CUT TO:] (A rear view of the band, facing the Podium. Melvin raises his baton.) MELVIN: Alright ... One-and-two-and ... (The band starts up a performance of the "Liberty Bell March." As with before, the playing is adequate ... not great, adequate. But a few bars into the performance, the door to the room bursts open and in walks Mr. Bell, followed by Ms. Li.) BELL: STOP! STOP! Melvin, *what* are you *doing*? MELVIN: I ... I ... Mr. Bell! ... Principal Li! I-I-I just thought maybe we'd see if we couldn't polish things up for your ... ap-app-approval. BELL: (long, patient sigh) Melvin, Melvin, Melvin ... the performance is tonight, Melvin. (raising his voice) Do you understand that, students? The performance ... is ... *tonight*. There's a reason we're playing a Carl Cassidy march. Carl Cassidy wrote over 600 marches, especially for High School band, just so people like us would have something worthy to play. We don't want to embarrass the school, after all. Now get back to work! (Bell turns to Li.) LI: Well, Mr. Bell, you seem to have your classroom in order. I notice the appropriate amount of fear in your subordinates. That's very good. Very good indeed. But you'd better be right about tonight. BELL: Oh, I am. Trust me, Angela, the community has always united behind organizations they could be proud of -- the groups that bring honor and acclaim to the school. And by supporting the band, you're placating the Fine Arts activists as well. (hushed tones) With a record like that, it's only a matter of time before the Superintendent takes notice. I've taken the liberty of inviting him to the game tonight for our "special" performance. LI: (laughs) Yes, yes, very good indeed, Mr. Bell! (her tone turns icy) But *don't* disappoint me! I'd HATE to think that my trust in the band program has been ... *misplaced*. INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- TEACHER'S LOUNGE (Barch, O'Neill, DeMartino, Bennett, DeFoe, Manson, Phelps (hi, Kara!) and various other teachers of academia sit gathered around the table in the teacher's lounge. They are obviously in the middle of something, and Barch slams her fist onto the table.) BARCH: It's not fair! One *traitor* of a *man* is putting our entire budget at risk! (various murmurs of agreement are heard) We need to protect our interests! PHELPS: Here, here! BARCH: I say one of us needs to *accompany* Principal Li at the game tonight and *make sure our voice is heard*!!! BENNETT: But which one of us will do it? (Everyone looks around edgily for a moment.) O'NEILL: (laughs nervously) You know, this reminds me about the fable of the mice and the cats, where they had to put a *bell* around the -- DEMARTINO: Timothy, will you STOP with the Aesop! I underSTAND you're teaching it, but PLEASE! We've ALL heard -- BARCH: SILENCE!!! NOW ... we're going to draw straws to see who gets to be our "sacrificial lamb!" It's the only fair way! (Barch raises her hand, and we CLOSE-UP on the straws. Each straw is plucked by a hand. RESUME WIDE-SHOT) O'NEILL: (turning pale) Oh no! DEMARTINO: HAH! O'NEILL: (labored breathing) I ... I think I'm going to faint! BARCH: (muttering) Oh, for Pat's sake ... HERE! (Forcibly, she yanks the short straw from O'Neill's hand and jams it into DeMartino's. He stares at it for a second, smile vanished and eye bulging.) DEMARTINO: (strained) Ms. Barch ... THIS is a MOCKery of the democratic system! (POV DeMartino: Barch gives the stare-of-death, and raises a fist.) INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- HALLWAY (A very panicky DeMartino runs up to Daria, who is walking down the hall with her backpack, and spins her around.) DEMARTINO: DAH-ria! DARIA: (surprised) Aaaah! DEMARTINO: You gotta help me! I have just been ... ah, NOMinated to ensure that the academic faculty receives its yearly PITTANCE! DARIA: And this involves me how? DEMARTINO: You're in band, right? TALK to Reggie Bell! REASON with him! It's my ONE CHANCE at avoiding cruciFICtion at the hands of that APE science teacher! DARIA: (has that "it's hopeless" look) I'll see what I can do. INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- BAND OFFICE (Bell is sitting behind his desk. Melvin sits quietly in the corner, twiddling his thumbs. There is a knock at the door.) BELL: Come in. (Daria enters.) BELL: Why, Daria. Hello. What can I do for you? DARIA: (calmly) Give up the charade. BELL: (eyes narrow) I beg your pardon? DARIA: Stop pretending to be something you're not. BELL: What on God's green earth are you talking about? DARIA: Look, you may have noticed by now that I don't go to any trouble trying to get on people's good sides. BELL: (wry) So I've noticed, yes. DARIA: I figure honesty is usually worth anything I might have to lose. BELL: Go on. DARIA: I know about this big funding war that's going on. You have to realize that by taking money away from sports, they're just going to take money away from the academic program. BELL: I'm not responsible for the academic department, only the band. I have to do what's best for the children in my charge. DARIA: But *are* you doing what's best for them? They're supposed to be getting an education. You're concentrating so hard on building up the program, you're overlooking the needs of the individual student. BELL: I give them something to be proud of! DARIA: That's just it. You give it to them. What value is there in that? They might be just as happy making the best of what they have now. If you stood together with the academic program, you could figure out exactly what *is* best for the students ... in *all* aspects of their education. BELL: Look, Daria, I appreciate your concerns, I really do. And I appreciate your honesty. But I must say, I'm disappointed in you. Don't you realize that out of the entire school, I'm the only one who has the guts to face Li and this sports-crazy community on their own terms. DARIA: But by adopting the tactics of your enemy, you embrace their principles. What kind of victory is that? BELL: (definitively) *My* victory. DARIA: (beat) Then you realize I can't ethically be a part of your performance tonight. (Bell sighs, taking off his glasses and massaging his forehead.) BELL: Look, Daria, I'm sorry you feel that way. I really don't. And I'd hate to see you forced into that dreadful Phys. Ed. course. And what do you suppose your parents would think of a *quitter*? DARIA: (frowns) You're not going to guilt-me into anything, if that's what you're hoping. BELL: Look, Daria, how about we cut a deal. You don't have to perform tonight, but I hope you won't abandon your band. I'll tell you what? Why don't you announce us tonight? Do that, and I'll let you stay. (Daria considers this.) BELL: (seductively) You won't be actively participating. Just ... doing what any good student would do. No shame in that. DARIA: (taking a deep breath) All right. But I still think you're making a mistake. (Daria leaves, looking more than a little depressed from the conversation.) BELL: Ms. Morgendorffer certainly lives up to her reputation, eh? MELVIN: (whispering) Are you sure that was wise, sir? Letting her announce us tonight? BELL: (reclining) Melvin, keep your friends close and your enemies even closer. She's not going to insult the entire town over a public loudspeaker. It'd only enrage them. Make 'em even more determined. No, Melvin, trust me. I've got Daria Morgendorffer right where I want her. MELVIN: (pause) You ... you know, s-sir ... some of the things she said ... do you think, m-maybe she had a, a point? BELL: What, you mean all that nonsense about "unity in education?" Idealistic hippie crap, Melvin, that's all it is. Didn't they teach you that in college? MELVIN: N-no, sir. BELL: (sighs) That's the problem with education these days. Now ... where were we before our little interruption? MELVIN: Y-you were telling me about your new Lexus, sir. BELL: Ah, yes. A person's car, Melvin ... always a way to differentiate the winners from the losers ... [CUT TO:] (Trent's beater of a car, pulling into a parking space.) EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD -- PARKING LOT (Trent, Jane, and Daria exit the car. The Morgendorffer Lexus pulls up next to it, bearing Helen, Jake, and Quinn. Jane and Quinn are in uniform. The rest are dressed for chilly autumn weather, like we see every week in the show's opening.) HELEN: Oh, Jake, isn't it exciting? One of our girls out there on the football field, the other one up in the *announcers'* booth (beat) Daria, you're not just doing this to get out of wearing a uniform, are you? DARIA: No, although that is a pleasant bonus. Like I already told you, this is a simple matter of principle. HELEN: (sighs) Alright, Daria. At least you're not quitting or anything. Come on, Jake, let's go get some good seats while we still can. JAKE: I want a hot dog! (The group begins walking towards the football field. Jane lags behind with Daria.) JANE: I *will* kill you for making me wear this ridiculous costume alone. DARIA: You won't be alone. What about Mike? JANE: (throws up her hands) Him and a couple dozen other misguided kids who think they need to dress up like court jesters to throw a concert. (beat) Are you really going through with this announcer thing? DARIA: Yep. JANE: (suspicious) You haven't gone and sold-out on me, have you? DARIA: Nope. JANE: And you're not going to do anything useless and heroic like badmouth the school and the band in front of the whole town, are you? DARIA: Don't worry. (she retrieves a brown envelope from her jacket and hands it to Jane) Here. JANE: What's this? DARIA: Just make sure everyone in the band gets a copy before the half- time show. JANE: (shrugs) You're the boss. CLOSE-UP: SCOREBOARD (The scoreboard reads: "PERIOD: 2 -- HOME: 14 -- VISITOR: 9") ANNOUNCER: And with less than two minutes left in the second period, it's the Lawndale Lions ahead by five points over the Oakwood Owls. [CUT TO:] (The Away Team sideline, where a giant, angry owl is hooting loudly and flapping its wings.) [CUT TO:] (Home bleachers, where Jake is shaking his fist.) HELEN: (taking a deep breath) Isn't this exciting? JAKE: Stupid owl! They told me Oakwood would be ahead by now! HELEN: Jake, that's silly. Who told you -- Jake! Don't tell me you've been *gambling* on *high school football*?!? (Jake turns guiltily silent. Meanwhile, the band begins playing the Fight Song, and the crowd begins singing along.) [CUT TO:] (Ms. Li is sitting in the crowd, eyes closed, humming along to herself. Next to her, DeMartino sits stiffly, teeth ground together and eye ready to burst. Both are dressed for the chilly fall weather. DeMartino is wearing one of those ridiculous-looking pointy-hats, with two ear- flaps and dangling strings for tying them together under the chin.) CROWD: Lawndale Lions fight to the death! They'll keep battling 'till the last breath! Winning honor for the right side Un-de-feat-a-ble Lion Pride It's team spirit where we excel Giving our rivals -- Rah! Rah! Rah! Our Kingly stature and savage might Give us the strength and give us the right Lawndale Lions fight! Fight! Fight! Our honor will keep us strong! LI: (chortles) Truer words were never spoken! DEMARTINO: Oh REALLY? How about, "this budget proposition is riDICulous, inSANE NONsense!?" LI: Oh, posh! You teachers need to learn your place. The money is *mine* to distribute as I please. You should try being more flattering, Anthony. After all, the *Superintendent* himself is in attendance tonight! (DeMartino groans, and a buzzer sounds.) LI: There, that's the end of the second half. Look ... the band is taking the field. WIDE-SHOT: FOOTBALL FIELD (The band is indeed taking the field. Brief [CUTS TO:] Helen, arm in arm with Jake; DeMartino and Li; Bell and Melvin; Jane and Mike; The Fashion Club among the Color Guard; Jodie and Ted. Then, a voice from the announcer's booth:) DARIA: For years, the Lawndale band has served the community, in various ways under various directors. It is my sincere pleasure to now present to you, the Lawndale High School Band, under the direction of Mr. *Reginald Bell* performing "Liberty Bell March" by John Phillips Sousa. [CUT TO:] (The podium. Melvin has frozen, half-way up the podium. Bell is quivering in impotent rage. There is a mass sound of a hundred sheets of music all shifting at once -- Jane has distributed the music from the envelope Daria gave her. Bell's gaze ZOOMS IN on Li's tight-lipped smile. Grating his teeth in anger, he grabs the baton from Melvin and ascends the podium.) (Ted's prediction comes true. Having never actually directed the band, Bell is unable to make the students respond. The performance would have been lackluster anyway. Now it is downright awful.) [CUT TO:] EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD -- PODIUM -- LATER THAT NIGHT. (Another buzzer sounds.) ANNOUNCER: And it's over! Another victory for the Lawndale Lions! JAKE: (from a distance) DAMMIT! (Bell is leaning heavily against the base of the podium ladder. Li marches up to him, flanked by Coach Gibson and Ms. Morris.) LI: (to Gibson) Congratulations, Coach Gibson, on a spectacular, *most* impressive performance. I wish the same could be said all around. BELL: (whining) Angela ... LI: *Principal* Li, thank you very much! BELL: It was sabotage! That Morgendorffer girl, she -- LI: I think I've heard quite enough, Mr. Bell. If you are unable to control your own students, you should be man enough to face the consequences. (looking at Gibson and Morris) I think it's rather clear where the grant money will be going. BELL: But ... but ... LI: Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find the Superintendent, to let him know that I had absolutely *nothing to do* with your little halftime fiasco. INT. MORGENDORFFER CAR (Helen is driving home while Jake sulks in the passenger seat. Quinn sits sullenly in the back, Daria next to her.) HELEN: (angrily) I can *not* believe you just lost $200 on a *high school* game! JAKE: Sure, everything looks soooo obvious after the fact! Well, let me tell you something! You'd be singing a different tune if we'd been $200 richer tonight! HELEN: Oh, really? QUINN: (indignant) Is money all you people care about? I'm going to be shamed and humiliated for the rest of my *life*! (wailing) Why did you do it, Daria? Why? (Long pause.) DARIA: Is anyone else in the mood for a cheeseburger? INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- BAND ROOM -- THE NEXT DAY (Bell is addressing the band.) BELL: And so, due to unexpected budget cutbacks, I am forced to exclude all the new signees this year from participating in band. All new members will have to revert to their previous schedules. [CUT TO:] (The Color Guard corner. Stacy has collapsed, sobbing, on Brooke's shoulder. Quinn stands awkwardly nearby. Sandi stalks up to her, followed by Tiffany.) SANDI: This is all your stupid cousin's fault Quinn. TIFFANY: Like, now we have to go back to gym class. That is so wrong. QUINN: Look, you guys, I *can't control* her! Believe me, if I'd known she was going to go *crazy*, I would have locked her in her room or ... I don't know, tied her to the couch or something! SANDI: (dark frown) Be that as it may, I promise this day will not be soon forgotten. [CUT TO:] (Bell approaching Daria.) BELL: (glowering) You know, my only regret is that the worst I can do is get you and your little friends out of this band. DARIA: Oh, I think you'll be worse off than that. BELL: (bristling) What's that supposed to mean? DARIA: Did you ever read Aesop's fables? You know ... the book with all the *morals*? BELL: (suspicious) Nnno ... DARIA: Let me tell you the one about the bat. There was this big war between the birds and the beasts, see? And when the birds came recruiting, the bat said "no, I'm a beast!" But when the beasts came recruiting, the bat said "No, I'm a bird." And when the war was over and the treaty was signed, neither side would have him. They drove him out, and he starved to death ... alone. Can you find the moral of the story? BELL: (spluttering) Nonsense! Utter nonsense! DARIA: (cocks one eye) Is it? As I understand it, your little ploy to tap into the sports fund failed. And the academic sub-committee is meeting right now to decide how to divide the money. (Bell gawks for a long moment.) DARIA: Squeak, squeak. (Incensed, Bell whips around and runs out of the room. Jane and Mike walk up behind Daria.) MIKE: (peeved) You know, Daria, that wasn't very cool what you did. We were all pretty embarrassed. DARIA: I know. And I'm sorry. But I couldn't sit idly by and let the school suffer from one man's ambition. With any luck, Bell will be forced to make the best of the funds he has left. Either that or he'll end up leaving, and you'll get a new, better director. MIKE: (stiffly) I guess that's one way of looking at it. (There is an uncomfortable silence. Jane turns to Mike.) JANE: Well, I guess this is good-bye. MIKE: Yeah. Guess so. JANE: (sounding tired) Come on, Daria. Let's go. INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- HALLWAY (Bell, puffing along, spots Melvin standing in the hallway.) BELL: Melvin! There you are! (Melvin sees Bell hurrying towards him and panics, ducking into the nearby Teacher's Lounge. Bell is right behind him, throwing the door open.) BELL: Melvin! Blast you! There's a problem! We've got to ... (Bell trails off. Melvin is at the far end of the Teacher's Lounge. Between them is the entire assembled academic faculty, seated around the room and table. A hand falls on each of Bell's shoulders, and he looks left and right to see DeMartino and Barch on either side.) BARCH: (cruel smile) Hello, Reggie! DEMARTINO: (devilish grin) TELL me, Reginald ... are you familiar with our good friend AESOP?! (The door swings shut ...) INT. LANE RESIDENCE -- JANE'S ROOM -- AFTER SCHOOL (CLOSE UP: TV screen) SSW ANNOUNCER: Meet the renegade restauranteur who gave up a career at The Ritz for comedy on the rocks! (TV VISUAL: A nightclub stage. A man in a fancy tuxedo is being pelted with a barrage of tomatoes.) SSW ANNOUNCER: The 'matered matre 'd -- next on "Sick, Sad World!" (Daria is lying on Jane's bed, with a book. Jane is painting at her easel -- a bloated caricature brandishing a baton. There is a click as Daria uses the remote to turn off the TV.) DARIA: So just to put things in perspective, my parents are upset again, Quinn still hates me, Jodie probably won't speak to me for a week, and we're stuck back in gym class. JANE: And I'm damn proud of you. DARIA: Really? You're not mad about that thing with Mike? JANE: (dismissive noise) Thing? What thing? I'm going to be honest with you Daria. He was cute and all, but there were never any real sparks. DARIA: I see. So you were just using him for his embouchure. JANE: (smirks) Exactly. Look, the way I see things, Bell only got what was coming to him. Any negative consequences of that are *his* fault, not yours. DARIA: Thanks. And I mean that. It would have been really easy to get petty over this. JANE: Yep. DARIA: Yep. (There is a pause as Jane returns to her painting and Daria settles down to her book -- "Aesop's Fables," in fact.) DARIA: All in all, a wonderful way to start things off. JANE: On the wrong foot? DARIA: Right foot. Different drummer. THE END AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a rather long fic, so I have dispensed with the somewhat bothersome process of dividing it into acts and inserting commercials. You'll notice the inclusion of a few old characters like Brooke and Ted. In addition to making things more interesting, this was all a part of my plan to create a pre-season-three atmosphere. Despite their small roles, I hope they integrated well into the story, and didn't leave the reader wondering why I bothered. Also, I did not create the character of Mr. Phelps (the math teacher.) His cameo, and one line, were a tip of the hat to Kara Wild and her consistently excellent feedback. :-) Thanks. I think I recall C.E. Forman identifying a few character/instrument roles in his/her fic "Rain on Your Parade." I do believe I have contra- dicted most of them. But as an ex-bandsmen, I can assure you that it is not uncommon at all for students to switch instruments several times during their stay in band, *especially* during marching season. Anyway, My point is: in that fic, Daria did a brief stint on the cymbals as a favor to Jodie. The pairing made too much sense for me to worry about being a copy-cat. I mean -- lets' face it: cymbals are the easiest marching instruments there are! Everything else requires pitch or rhythmic complexity. Anyway, on the off-chance that s/he cares, I'll credit C.E. for having the idea first. ;-) (If you're ever reading this, C.E., you'll notice I have attempted to preserve your gender ambiguity as if most people didn't already know. :-) ) Also, my sincerest apologies to anyone who has written a band-oriented fic that I have contradicted and cares about that sort of thing. I'd like to hope there's room enough in this biz for the both of us! :-) (Case in point: look for a band-oriented fic from Paperpusher, hope- fully coming soon!) For those of you unfamiliar with the phrase, the last line refers to the expression: "Marching to the beat of a different drummer." And with that, I bid you adieu. If you have any questions or comments; compliments or criticisms, fire away to *DELETED* I always appreciate good feedback. Thanks for reading.