Ep
2: Fight For Your Invite To Party
"Damn
you, old man, I'm doing fine with my life!" Jake roared at the empty
air. "Business is doing GREAT! I'm not a screw-up though YOU tried to MAKE ME
ONE CURSE YOU OLD MAN!!!"
I
hate when Dad's taking a call on the Bluetooth, it looks really freaky, thought Daria. Speaking
of freaky, let's see if I can bug Quinn.
In
her darkened room, full to the brim with graffiti on the walls and band posters
and dumped clothes and a faded, long-chewed plush dinosaur (Quinn refused to
dump Mr Rex), Quinn was going through her leather gear and trying to find the
skimpiest ones she could.
"Hmmm...
one inch after bra or half inch? One inch or half inch, one inch or half inch..."
"Is
this a bad time to mention there's a cold front coming in?" Daria stood in the
doorway, the cloud behind the silver lining.
"Go
away, I'm concentrating. There's some big party in Crewe Neck on Saturday and
we're gonna be crashing it."
"Countdown:
T minus 72 hours. Might this be Brittany's party?"
"Yes,
and might you... how do you know about a party?"
"I'm
invited. Not sure if I'll go yet."
"You're
invi.... MUM! DAD! DARIA'S SELLING OUT!"
--
Dinner
was a tense affair, with both parents staring at Daria with shock and
nervousness, Quinn poised to make things worse.
"So,
sweetie... This Brittany, she's a cheerleader, right?"
"I'm
thinking of trying out," said Daria between bites. "I'd really like to support
the school spirit."
"Is
there something the matter at school?" Helen's voice was full of concern. "You
can tell us anything, you know that-"
"I
saw her talking to a preppy kid!" yelled Quinn.
Daria
had. Specifically, she'd asked him to move off her locker.
"I'm
joking, Mum. I just showed her the basics of using a pencil and she invited me
as payback."
"Oh
thank god – I mean, I'm glad to see you helping the mentally less
fortunate, Daria."
"So
I don't need to broaden my social horizons and learn to come out of my
anti-social shell then."
"Hell
no, Daria, that sort of crowd is the one your Aunt Rita was in!" Jake
sounded like he was describing the Khmer Rouge's elite puppy-kicking wing.
"Ewww-www-wwww!"
"What
do you mean by... oh, who am I kidding, Rita sucked balls."
"I
like the refined conversation of our family meals," said Daria.
"We're
going to smuggle beer cans into the party and sell it to the football players
but not tell them it's really Mountain Dew in there!" said Quinn proudly. "That
was my idea, Shaggy and Scarlett said it was awesome."
"Just
remember the golden rule," pointed out Jake. "Nothing higher than pot and
caffeine pills until you're 18-"
"And
only pot that's bought locally, and always be clear where your supply comes
from..." Quinn yawned.
"...and
if you catch us with heroin or cocaine ever, you'll drive us down to the
morgues in Juarez to make us apologise to the corpses," finished Daria.
"Damn
right! Huh, and the old man says I can't discipline my kids WELL FUCK YOU OLD
MAN!"
After
Quinn left, Helen fixed Daria with a stare: "Daria, I'd like it if you went along
and kept an eye on Quinn."
"I
don't know what I did but it can't have been that bad."
"Your
sister hasn't crashed any parties in Lawndale before, she won't yet know who in
her gang she can truly rely on or the best exit routes. I'm trusting you to watch
her back."
"No
one suspects the conservatively dressed girl, eh?"
"So
that's why you – ohhhh!" Jake gave her a thumbs-up. "Good work, Daria!"
"Jake,
she was joking."
---
Trent's
car had been the stylish thing ten years ago and now... well, it still moved
forward.
"Thanks
for the ride, Trent," said Jane.
"No
problem. I need a break anyway. I've been practicing for ten hours straight."
"And
he means real practice, not sleeping with a guitar in his hands," Jane
informed Daria.
"Your
dad's business plan was like... whoa. It inspired me." He began tapping on
the steering wheel. "My look's been rebranded, but my soul still screams 'damn
it!'.... Um..."
"Pluto's
no longer a planet," offered Daria.
"Yeah,
that was just wrong, man." He pulled up outside Crewe Neck, still in thought.
"Pluto's no longer a planet... The Man is out to can it! Yeah. Cool. Thanks,
Daria."
"Sure
you don't want to crash?"
"Will
Quinn be there?"
"Yep."
"Better
not then." He shook his head, stunned. "She scares me, Janey."
"You're
a smart man," said Daria.
The
two girls approached the security guard, defender of Crewe Neck against the
scourge of the working classes. He was a huge mountain of meat, arms like
ICBMs, his face in permanent scowl.
"Hi
Steve," said Jane.
"Hey."
Steve
was the main security guard at Lawndale, enforcer of Li's police state regime.
And that confused Daria, because she was sure security guards didn't leave work
only to go secure & guard other things.
"Steve
is an individual and not an army of guard clones, right?"
"Regular
guard was 'sick'" - Steve mimed drinking from a bottle – "so I got forced over
here. I should've read the contract before signing – I don't mean the small
print, I mean the contract. Anyway, right, what's this for?"
"We're
here for Brittany Taylor's party."
"Pbbt.
Yeah, pull the other one, Daria holy shit you really are." He stared at
the list in horror. "You better go through. Jane... oh what the hell, if Daria's
going they won't have a problem with you too."
"I
like you Steve, you're always honest," said Daria.
"I
hope you're the last people, I got a stack of porn to go through tonight."
"That
was too honest."
---
Brittany
opened the door with a massive squee. "Daria! You're here! Now we're even!"
"This
is Jane. She wasn't invited but if I talk to her, I won't be bothering the
popular kids."
"Oh
wow, you are smart Daria! Bring her in!"
The
two girls entered, watching the beautiful people dancing and being young and
having fun with their friends. It was terrible. On the plus side, food.
"Look.
Three kinds of chips. Flat, ridgy, and... with a hole in the middle. Isn't
science wonderful?"
The chips Daria nibbled at were cheese and onion flavoured, and it got worse
from there. Because that's when he arrived, a man with a great aura of
sleaze, clad in shades and a glaring white suit and the pimpiest-canest pimp
cane you ever did see.
"Hel-loooooo,
my lovelies! Charles Ruttheimer the Third here, and I'll be your social
director for the evening. Would you luscious souls like a free tour of the
house?"
Daria looked him up and down. "Everyone nicknames you 'Upchuck', don't they."
"I
have been known to answer by that title, and... some others." He leered at
her.
"Oh
hey!" cried out Jane, grabbing Daria by the arm. "I've just seen my ex-boyfriend!
I can go ask him if he's sure he didn't give me chlamydia!"
The
two girls escaped, a growl of "feisty!" at their backs.
"Upchuck's
not dangerous but you will be if you listen to him for more than thirty
seconds."
"He
seems rich. Can't he buy a sense of style?"
"Oh
yeah, he's rich. He runs his own online business, and found the one industry
that isn't harmed by a recession."
Horror
dawned on her. "Please tell me you mean drug dealing."
"No
such luck, it's porn alright. It's not official but everyone knows it's him.
How he stops the law getting to him, we don't know. That cane was custom made,
y'know."
"Nice
to see being rich didn't change him."
"On
the bright side, I really did see my ex. HEY TOM!"
A
young man, talking to a friend, turned around: he was dressed in a plain black
shirt and some trousers, someone who was too lazy to keep up with fashion and
so had spent hours upon hours looking for cheap clothes. He smiled slightly as
he saw Jane.
"Jane,
the doctor confirms I don't have chlamydia but he does think I may have
passed on swine flu."
"Ah,
is there no end to the damage you leave behind, Mr Sloane?"
"Hell
no, I'm upper class. If we don't leave behind carcinogenic substances and mass
CO2 emissions, all the other rich people think we're wimps and pick on us.
Speaking of:" He pointed to his friend, a speccy lad in sharp 'smart casual'
clothes and a smooth grin (well, he thought it was smooth). "Pat Seven, he's
from Fielding Prep."
"I
thought I'd reassure the young ladies of Lawndale High that, don't worry, Tom's
an aberration among us," said Pat.
"Tom's
got a personality?" asked Daria.
"Oh
I like her. This must be the famous Jane Lane that shattered Pope's
heart."
"That's
Jane, I'm Da--- Pope? Come to think of it, Pat Seven?"
"Explaining
all the in-jokes and nickname logic and protocols of the upper-rati would be
long and tedious... for Tom." Jane smirked. "So ask him."
---
Quinn
and her gang of ten crept on Crewe Neck like thieves in the night. Getting in
would not be easy, but Quinn had a plan. She was going to distract the guard
with her feminine wiles while her allies snuck in, then leg it in herself.
And
then the party would be all theirs to raise hell in, aw yeah. The guard was
just the first obstacle...
The
guard looked up from his porn.
"Oh.
Hey, Steve."
"Hey."
He went back to the porn, not paying her and the others any attention.
Well
that's no damn fun, thought Quinn.
---
"...and
to cut a long story short, by the end of the night, he was forever known as
Darkfart," finished Tom. "Prep schools are unforgiving."
"You've
made me glad I go to Lawndale," said Daria. "I hate you for that."
"Hey,
I go too. I envy Pat and his den of elitist psychological torture."
"And
senior girls in skirts and tight blazers," added Pat.
"Recession
meant my dad either made big cuts at the family business or we made big cuts at
home, he went with the latter. My sis and I are doing two years here at
Lawndale, then maybe Fielding if the company keeps recovering. On the plus
side, I met Jane. On the down side-"
"I
met him."
"Well
now I need a new punchline."
From
across the way, there was a loud commotion. Daria sighed as the source of the
disturbance become clear: the Maleficent Eleven had turned up, scowling and
aggressively wearing dark colours and some chugging beer.
"Wonder
how they got past Brittany at the door?" asked Jane.
"It's
Brittany. They showed her something shiny."
"You
know 'Killer' Quinn and her posse?" asked Tom.
"I'm
related to her. I remember when she was Kick-Butt Quinn at age 6. She had the
most adorable tiny Mohawk."
Pat
Seven was staring at the loud gang with bemusement. "They're a rather whimsical
lot, aren't they?"
---
"Oh
no, it's those guys!" Jeffy shot the gang a dark look. "How'd they get in?!
What if they start playing emo?!"
"Yeah,
I bet they all like emo!" said Joey with fear. "What is wrong with that Quinn
anyway? She dresses, like..." He struggled for a word. "Weird."
"Yeah,
she's really weird!"
"Totally
weird!"
"She's
got piercings in her belly and everything! We-ird!"
"Don't
you agree, Jamie? Jamie?"
Jamie had been staring at Quinn in silence for about a minute, but snapped out
of it with a guilty look.
"Er,
yeah, weird! Ha ha!"
---
As
Daria got closer to Quinn, she could see she really was selling beer cans to
Kevin and his jock mates. Ah, the free market.
"Note
the position of the wild Quinn. Slowly edging her pack towards the hi-fi
system. Something is afoot, Watson."
"Andrea's
got beer again. This could get ugly."
"Dave's
there, it's already ugly."
"Well,
I bet you've never seen this happen at a Fielding party, right Pat?" Tom
noticed Pat had a dazed expression on his face. "Oh, Pat. Again?"
"She's
a vision of loveliness in black..." he whispered.
Daria
looked out at the girls in black. "Could you be more specific?"
"Quinn."
He tried out the name again, savouring it. "Cer-win. I'm going to go over
there."
"That's
a very bad idea."
"I'm
going to talk to her."
"Just
walk away."
Pat
Seven walked over to Quinn's gang, getting a hostile glare from everyone.
Unperturbed, he said something to Quinn.
Quinn
spat in his face and shoved him backwards.
"Huh.
She must be in a good mood," said Daria.
Pat
staggered back to the group, the love struck expression still on his face. "Oh
Pope, even her spit is as sweet as nectar."
"Man,
you are desperate this month."
Quinn
was nearing the hi-fi. Daria glanced about, trying to ping any sources of
potential trouble. (She saw Kevin looking at his beer can with confusion and
saying "I don't remember Budweiser tasting like this...") Another glance showed a
clear path to a rear exit.
"It
was nice meeting you Tom, but I'd advice you and Pat move far away from the
hi-fi. When what goes down goes down, you'll thank me."
"I
believe you." He shook her hand and headed off.
"He's
pretty friendly."
"Yeah,
he's alright for an evil ex," said Jane. "You blushed when he touched you."
"What?!"
"Psyche."
---
Jeffy
and Joey were off double-checking the beer cans. That left Jamie free to brave
the hostility of the gang and talk to Quinn. He was going to talk to Quinn. He
was going to do it now.
"Um,
hi, Q-"
She
turned to look at him, all 'fuck off' vibes and contempt, and the words died on
his lips.
"What
do you want, Jesse?"
"I'm
Jamie," he said in a small voice.
"Who
the fuck cares? Andrea, get rid of this bitch!"
Andrea
got rid of him so fast he whacked his head on the sofa. He counted himself
lucky.
And
his one thought beyond that was that he had to talk to her again.
---
"Quinn's
at the hi-fi. She's getting a CD out – ah, a 'mix tape', her old game. She'll
be turning up the volume soon."
"Eh,
I live with Trent. I can stomach this just as well as you."
"I
think the football players have worked out that the untrustworthy gang claiming
to sell good things for a low price were lying."
"Ah.
Plan to get your sis out?"
"Well,
we'll let her have her fun first."
Quinn's
gang were forming a defensive wall around her and the sound system. With
lightning speed, Quinn ripped out the current CD and inserted her own, cranked
the volume to eleven, and pressed play—
"CHANGE
MY PITCH UP! SMACK MY BITCH UP!"
The
sound face-punched everyone in a five-metre radius and caused glasses to shake.
Even Quinn's own gang winced, though Quinn herself had already started dancing
obscenely. Daria stood, disappointed: Omen was clearly the better Prodigy song.
The
party was already creaking under the noise when the CD started playing Pretty
Vacant – or "va-CUNT!" as Johnny Rotten seemed to think it was, with
Quinn and her posse singing along with every single va-cunt.
"Her
room is next to mine!" yelled Daria to Jane. "Pity me!"
"I
always pity you!"
"Well,
nobody seems willing to get closer to the noise, so Quinn's safe from
reprisals! Job done, let's eat chips!"
On
the way to the food, Daria spotted Brittany and paused. Brittany looked upset.
Which, Daria had to concede, wasn't surprising since her party had been
hijacked and beer & swearing was flying about.
Damn
it, conscience, you always strike at the worst times.
Sighing,
Daria advanced to the hi-fi – the volume was nothing she'd not heard before at
3AM – and took out her weapon of last resort: her own mix CD. Quinn spotted her
and tried to block her from taking action, but too late...
Vivaldi's
Spring cantered out of the radio, and Quinn's gang fled like vampires from
sunlight.
"DAH-REE-AH!"
screamed Quinn, infuriated. "You totally wrecked my rebellion! God!!!"
"Hey,
the popular crowd don't listen to classical music and neither does your gang.
Therefore, by playing it, I'm being extra rebellious."
".......JUST
FUCK OFF!" Quinn stormed away.
Once
the gang was dispersed, Daria took her CD and let the party return to normal –
which, frankly, made her feel dirty inside.
---
"Well,
the two of you managed to even further alienate your classmates than you
already had," said Jane as they left the party.
"A
successful night," said Daria.
"You
always ruin my fun!" fumed Quinn.
"Oh,
come on. I saved your friends from getting beaten up by football players by
claiming you were selling them Mountain Dew flavoured beer that was even more
alcoholic than regular... I still can't believe they fell for it either."
"Andrea
and Dave were looking forward to a punch-up, damn it! They'd been
talking about it all week!"
"You
have classy friends."
"Don't
knock hers, Daria, you talked to Pat Seven willingly," said Jane.
"Sociological
experiment."
"How
are getting home, anyway?" asked Quinn.
At
that very moment, a sleek and shiny car pulled up, containing the weak and
slimy form of Upchuck.
"You
ladies in need of a knight in shining armour?"
Daria
thought for a second. "Can we play a CD on the way home?"
"Sure
thing, sweetheart – the sound system is top of the range, as with everything
about me rrrrowr!"
Daria
smiled at Quinn. "Never say I don't do anything for you..."
-
AUTHOR'S NOTES II: Thanks to Roentgen, who let me borrow Pat Seven from his The Hallowed Halls of Fielding fanfic (and provided the "spit" line); and to Brother Grimace for the idea of Upchuck as an Internet porn lord and midnightstorm for post-recession Tom at Lawndale, both ideas on the same PPMB thread that spawned this.