_The Look-Alike Series_
Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit
Season 3, episode 9: "Gym Dandy"
prose adaptation by Austin Loomis

ACT 1: TAKE A LOOK AROUND

If you had happened to be on a certain street in Lawndale, USA, at the 
right time in the early morning that day, you would have seen...nothing.  
After all, it was deserted out, at least at first.
	After a moment, though, you would have heard the sound of sneaker-
clad feet pounding the pavement in a quick and steady rhythm.  A moment 
later, you'd have seen Jane Lane come jogging into view.  She was wearing 
her running outfit -- T-shirt and shorts without the black leggings and 
red shirt, and with sneakers instead of her trusty fireman's boots -- 
with headphones on her ears and the general appearance of one who has 
found her stride.  She went another block, turned left...and broke that 
stride as she saw her friend Lynn Cullen pass by, also running.  Lynn 
was wearing a gray T-shirt, black jogging bottoms and what looked like 
her normal combat boots; her hair was tied in a braid.  
	Jane was frankly perplexed.  She called out as Lynn approached.  
"Yo!  I..."
	But Lynn, wearing headphones of her own, did not stop.  Indeed, 
she sped up as she passed Jane; she didn't even seem to see her.  Jane 
frowned, then took off after her.

				      * * *

Later, in the halls of Lawndale High, Jane was leaning against her 
locker, looking petulant.  Her friend Andrew Philip McIntyre was smirking 
at her.
	Her other friend, Lynn's look-alike Daria Morgendorffer, looked 
a bit lost.  "Tell me again why this bothers you."
	"Since when does she jog?" Jane demanded indignantly.
	A.P. looked smug.  "Since when can she outrun you, more like?"
	Jane turned petulant.  "Yeah, well, that too."
	"She's not bad at sports."
	"Unlike some we could name..." Daria couldn't resist pointing 
out.
	A.P. decided he was better off ignoring that.  "She just doesn't 
do teams and stuff.  Like I said, Purple Peril walks alone."
	"Yeah," Jane muttered.  "*Constantly,* these days."
	Lynn came along, with a sheet of paper in one hand and a look 
of amused disbelief on her face.  "You guys have got to see this."
	"Why didn't you say hello this morning?  And since when do you 
jog?  And in boots?"
	"Oh, did I go past you?" asked Lynn, suspiciously innocent.  
"I was in a world of my own this morning.  And I don't normally; I was
just breaking in the new boots."  She raised a foot to show them; the 
new footwear looked no different from her Doc Martens -- just newer.  
"They're SAS surplus.  Northern Ireland issue.  Made for urban guerrilla 
warfare, so they're lighter than Docs or normal combat boots.  Wanted 
to see if they're as easy to run in as claimed."  No one looked very 
satisfied with this, but Lynn ignored them.  "Anyway, take a look."
	Daria took the sheet, gave it a brief scanning -- and her eyes 
went wide.  "Barch's letter of *resignation?*"
	A.P. was stunned.  "Let me see that!"  He grabbed it from her 
and scanned it for himself.  "You're *kidding!*"
	Jane was boggled as well.  "I thought that woman would hang on 
like grim death!  How did you *get* this?"
	"Same way I got her grade sheets," Lynn reminded them.  "And 
those bits of documentation on Ms. Li."
	Jane's tone turned stern.  "Okay, *why* did you get this?"
	A shrug.  "Never hurts to have a firm view of what's going on 
around you."  This was met with silence; obviously, nobody quite bought 
it.  "Look, does it really matter where, how or why I got this?  What 
counts are results."
	Daria decided, with great reluctance, to let it go.  "So...what 
*are* the results?"
	"Well, Caldwell's set up a meeting with her to discuss it, but 
he's made it quite clear that he's not accepting it."
	"No?" A.P. whimpered.
	Daria nodded sagely.  "That makes a lot of sense, if you think 
about it.  Caldwell's new to the school; he's not going to want to break 
in new teachers as well, not this early."
	"But...but he can't stop her if she *really* wants to quit, can 
he?  I mean..."
	"Who says she *wants* to quit?"  The other three just sort of 
Looked at Lynn for that.  "Oh, come on, it's a plea bargain.  She wants 
something out of Caldwell that she probably couldn't have got out of 
Ms. Li."
	"A raise," the others chorused.
	"And perhaps a more lenient attitude toward `hormonal heydays 
on school property' between faculty members."
	"That too," Daria allowed as.  They considered that a moment.  
"So...I take it you're going to have a broadcast of this meeting between 
Barch and Caldwell this afternoon?"
	Lynn raised an eyebrow.  "I guess."  She thought about what she'd 
just said.  "Huh.  Maybe I should sell tickets."

				      * * *

And so, in the principal's office, the woman the Jacketeers referred 
to as "Bitter Pill" was sitting across from Nathan Caldwell, who looked 
at her with a strange expression of stern sympathy.  "Now, Janet, you 
know I can't accept your resignation.  There's enough upheaval at this 
school right now -- new principal, trying to get the budget back on track 
-- without having to find another science teacher.  Now, maybe if you 
explained to me why it is you want to leave Lawndale High?"
	"Well, quite frankly, Mr. Caldwell, I think that some of the..."  
Barch hesitated a moment.  "...policies that Lawndale High implements 
are--"
	"Would this be about fraternization among the faculty?"  Barch 
looked shocked.  "I'm not blind, Janet.  Neither are the rest of the 
teachers.  Frankly, I don't have a problem with teachers dating.  After 
all, these days, where else do people meet people *but* in the workplace? 
Now, is that all that's worrying you?  I don't know how much of a pay 
raise I can manage, given the state of the budget, but I'm sure I can 
squeeze out something--"
	"What *worries* me, Mr. Caldwell, is that this school is a cess-
pit of rampant male chauvinist pigism!"
	Caldwell was taken aback -- he knew about Janet's rather radical 
womynist views, of course, but to the best of his knowledge, she'd never 
turned them against the entirety of Lawndale High before.  Hopefully, 
this wasn't about his replacing Angela Li, *or* about Anthony being let 
off with community service after shooting Li dead on school grounds.  
"I...I'm not sure what you mean..."
	"Have you taken a look at the gym classes lately, Mr. Caldwell?  
That Morris woman has the girls doing cheerleading exercises while the 
men play *real* sports."
	Caldwell was simultaneously relieved that this wasn't about him 
-- he'd heard the rumors about a sword named Lorena -- and somewhat 
appalled at what it *was* about.  "I...I wasn't aware of this..."  He 
recovered his composure and went on as firmly as he could.  "Janet, I'll 
have a talk with Irene.  I'm sure we can get this straightened out.  
I *am* the principal, after all, and if I can't guide the curriculum, 
who can?"
	Barch raised an eyebrow at that.  "Well, I guess maybe you're 
not so bad.  For a man."  She let him consider whether to ignore the 
"left-handedness" of that compliment.  "But if something isn't done about 
that...that *indignity* to women people see fit to call a gym class, 
I'm handing in my resignation and there's not a thing you can do to stop 
me."  And with that, she stormed out.
	Caldwell sat at his desk a moment, wondering, _What the hell 
have I let myself in for?_

				      * * *

The next day in the gym, the guys were breaking up into two teams.  A.P. 
held a basketball like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with 
it.  On the other side of the gym, Daria, Jane and Lynn were standing 
around, holding pom-poms.
	"Do you really think he's going to be able to get us out of 
this?" Daria wondered.
	"Don't see why not," Lynn shrugged.  "He had a point; he *is* 
the principal.  Not all power is used for ill."
	"You're right," Jane allowed as, "but you didn't spend as long 
as we did under Ms. Li."
	"It's a hard concept to accept after a couple of years of all-
out tyranny," Daria agreed.
	"Hey, do you think they found a pit in hell deep enough for her?"
	They shrugged at each other, then all fell silent, not really 
wanting to talk about the late Angela Li anymore.

				      * * *

As Caldwell stopped outside the gym door to straighten his tie, he heard 
the squeak of sneakers on hardwood and a basketball being dribbled.  
Then it stopped.  A moment of silence, then the laughter of quarterback 
Kevin Thompson.  "Nothin' but air, guy!"
	"Okay," the McIntyre boy's voice replied, "so I suck at basketball
too!  So sue me!"
	Caldwell blinked and then walked into the gym.  He stood a moment 
in the doorway to watch the girls.
	"All right," Coach Morris said; "I want you to do a cheer to 
show your agility and gymnastic skill.  You'll use the moves I've been 
having Brittany show you all year."  The look-alikes and the Lane girl 
rolled their eyes with a shared sigh.  "Cullen?"
	Lynn, fighting a smirk, moved to the clear space in front of 
the bleachers, held up her pom-poms and put on a bright, cheerleader-
like smile.  "Ready?" she asked in a terrifyingly stereotypical Valley 
Girl voice.  "Okay!  Kill, kill, hate, hate!  Murder, murder, mutilate!  
Goooooo *team!*"  Into the shocked silence that followed, she said in 
her normal deadpan tones, "If you don't like my peppy, I can show you 
my perky."
	No one even moved.  Jane had been working up a sarcastic "anti-
cheer" of her own, but this one drove right over it.  Caldwell, on the 
other hand, understood why the Cullen girl's experiment as a cheerleader 
had only lasted one day.
	Lynn sat down.  Daria and Jane stared at her.
	"What..." Daria led off.
	"The hell..." Jane interjected.
	"Was *that?*"
	"Apparently," Lynn shrugged, "it's the traditional cheer of the 
Illuminati University Fighting Fnords.  I'm not familiar with them myself,
but I saw that in an e-mail sig once and always wanted to use it."  _I've 
also seen it identified as a rugby cheer, but if it were, I think I'd 
have heard about it from Jan.  Unless it was only American rugby players 
that used it, of course._
	"I can see why.  But was it such a good idea, given...?"  She 
gestured to the doorway, where Caldwell was still looking stunned.
	"Of course it was.  I'd like to see co-ed gym classes."  Daria 
and Jane treated her to incredulous stares.  "Look, do I want to spend 
the rest of this year and all the next playing badminton and volleyball 
and..."  She waved the pom-poms as disdainfully as she could.  "...trying 
to come up with something new to freak the Iron Maiden out with?  Or 
do I want to play floor hockey and basketball and maybe--"
	There was a thump from across the gym.  The girls turned to see 
A.P. on the floor, sprawled on top of Michael Jordan Mackenzie.  
Obviously, they'd been facing off, and it had gone badly.
	"Ow..." Mack observed.
	"Sorry, Captain Sanity."
	Morris looked disgusted.  "Gah *dammit,* McIntyre!"  She moved 
off.
	Daria and Jane looked back at Lynn, who finished her sentence.  
"...keep him from getting maimed?"
	Jane smirked.  "That's so cute!  You--"  Lynn glared, and Jane 
shut up.
	"Irene!" Caldwell shouted from the doorway.  "Could I have a 
word with you?  In my office?  *Now?*"
	Daria, Jane and Lynn smirked at each other.
	"Back to the ol' listening post for us this afternoon, right, 
guys?"
	Lynn sighed.  "Later on this evening; say around seven.  I
have..."
	"...someplace to be after school," Daria & Jane finished her 
ambiguous refrain in unison.
	Now the glare was directed at both of them.


ACT 2: SETTING SUN

The pool table at Biers had been moved against the wall.  Lynn looked 
less than impressed.  "I'm going to have to tell them something.  This 
is getting ridiculous."
	"Do they suspect anything?" wondered the young man to whom she'd 
given the nickname "Rust."
	"Generally, they all suspect *something.*  But I think Daria 
might be getting close to figuring out *what.*"
	"I'm not surprised."
	"So what do you suggest?"
	"Just keep dodging them.  It's all you can do."  He let her fume 
inwardly about that a moment.  "Now let's see how far you've come on 
the hand-to-hand.  And if you're going to be standing on my neck again, 
a bit more gentleness?"
	Lynn just smirked.

				      * * *

Later, the Jacketeers were all staring at the little tape recorder lying 
on Lynn's bed.
	Daria decided *someone* needed to break the silence.  "Now how 
do you think that conversation would have gone if we'd still been under 
Ms. Li?"
	"That conversation wouldn't have *happened* if we'd been under 
Ms. Li," Jane replied without a moment's hesitation.
	A.P. was quite croggled.  "She called him a..."
	Lynn had a self-satisfied look.  "Well, at least we finally know 
why she wants girls to wear the pom-poms and guys to do the pounding."  
She winced mildly, rubbing her neck.  "I was kind of curious about that."
	"That has to hurt," Daria allowed as, "getting so close to the 
Olympic volleyball team before tearing a muscle.  I should have suspected 
it was something like that."
	"Whatever."  That got Jane stared at a little.  "Sorry, but I 
have *no* sympathy for the woman.  She was a tyrant."
	"Still is."
	"Well, at least you guys are getting a change of pace," A.P. 
sighed.
	"I don't understand how you can be so utterly uncoordinated," 
said Jane.  "I mean, you don't have any problems with hand-eye when you 
play video games."
	"I just don't think my body takes orders very well.  In general." 
He thought a moment, or what passes for thought where he's concerned, 
anyway.  "I don't want to worry about hurting any of you out on the
field."
	Lynn winced again, rubbing her right shoulder this time.  "Court, 
A.P.  Basketball is played on a court."
	That wince worried A.P.  "You okay, Purple Peril?"
	"Uh...yeah," came the evasive reply.  "Just a little stiff."  
She paused to let them not buy that.  "Anyway, this is probably the best 
scenario we could have asked for in this situation.  Another two-week 
trial period.  If we like playing with the big boys...or the not-so-big 
boys...we just show prowess."  Daria shot her sister a look.  "Or at 
least willing.  If we hate it, we screw it up."
	"And get sent back to the squads," Jane replied.
	"Pretty much."
	The four exchanged looks.
	"Well, I'm gonna put some effort in.  *Anything's* got to be 
better than being brainwashed into joining the insipid pom-pom wavers."
	"Agreed."
	"I suppose a team effort is the lesser of two evils in this 
case," Daria shrugged.
	A.P. grinned.  "For those of you who don't like sport...there'll 
be sport!
	Lynn gave him a mock scowl.  "That's *my* line, Maverick."
	"Hey, you were the one who taught it to me!"
	Lynn sighed and gave a Mona Lisa smile.  A.P.'s ears went ever 
so slightly red.

				      * * *

The next day in the gym, the Jacketeers were lounging on the bleachers 
in gym clothes, waiting for class to start.  Lynn had her hair braided.  
Daria noticed a bruise running from neck to wrist on her half-sister's 
right arm and winced.  "What the hell happened to *you?*"
	"Walked into a door," Lynn casually replied.
	"Why don't I believe you?
	"Believe what you want.  Would I admit to doing anything that 
stupid if it weren't true?"
	Daria looked as though she seriously wanted to debate that, but 
she was interrupted by a whistle blast.  Lynn smirked.
	"What *is* it about the universe?"
	"It either likes me or hates you," replied Lynn still smirking.  
"Or both."
	Ms. Morris stood in front of the assembled class, with Caldwell 
at her side.  "All right, boys and girls," she said as if about to choke 
on the words, "listen up.  Mr. Caldwell here wants to institute some 
changes in the way this class is run.  So we're going to do a test run 
for his little program.  For the next two weeks, this class is co-ed."
	Murmuring from the rest of the class.  Daria, Jane, Lynn and 
A.P. all looked impassive, of course.
	"I am Joe's complete lack of surprise," said A.P., having a Chuck 
Palahniuk moment.
	"We'll stick with the basketball for now.  It seems harmless 
enough for you all."  She glared at A.P.  "Well, *most* of you.  Now, 
because this class is now...a bit bigger...I'll have to split you into 
teams of three and rotate.  I need three captains!  Mackenzie, Thompson 
and..."
	"I think it might be a good idea to pick a girl captain for at 
least one team, Irene," Caldwell said rather pointedly.
	"Fine," the Iron Maiden growled.  She searched the class a moment 
with her eyes, then sighed.  "Cullen."
	"Excuse me?" Lynn blurted, utterly shocked.

				      * * *

And so, Lynn found herself facing off against Kevin.  Morris stood 
between them, holding up a basketball.
	"Don't worry, Lynn!" said Lobotomy Ken.  "I'll go easy on you!"
	Lynn scowled at him.  Of all the wrong things he could have said, 
that was at least two.
	Morris threw the ball into the air between them; Lynn jumped, 
hammering a foot down on Kevin's knee as if using it as a step up as 
she smacked the ball back toward her own team.  Kevin yelped once and 
collapsed.
	Morris blew the whistle, surprised.  "*Cullen!*  Foul!"  She 
thought a moment.  "*Impressive* foul."
	Lynn smirked at Ms. Morris, who looked at her speculatively.

				      * * *

Let's go to the highlight reel.  Desmond?
	"Well, Al, here we see McIntyre preoccupied with the exigencies 
of trying to dribble and run at the same time.  Notice that look of dread 
on his face?  It's almost like he *knows* what's coming.  And there it 
is.  He fumbles the ball, and -- oof!  That's gonna leave a mark!  I 
don't know which hurt him more, the ball or the shoelace."
	I'd have to go with the ball there.  All the shoelace did was 
trip him up, not bash him in the face.
	"I can't argue with that.  And here we see Morgendorffer standing 
by the basket, looking rather uncertain.  The ball comes bouncing toward 
her, and she picks it up and gingerly throws it to Mackenzie, who smiles 
as he dribbles it away.  D'you see the look on her face?"
	I do, Desmond, and it says "wow.  I participated."  It's moments 
like that, human interest moments, that make this all worthwhile.
	"Now here we see Cullen, in control of the ball, dodging easily 
past Thompson, who looks *extremely* put out by the fact that she's 
kicking his butt.  And watch this spin-pass to Lane, followed by an 
impressive 3-point layup.  And that's an interesting shade of red 
Thompson seems to be turning, isn't it?"
	A shade between International Orange and Stearman Vermillion, 
I'd say.  Now McIntyre has the ball, but he's being resolutely covered 
by Mackenzie and -- some football player with a crew cut.  I never *did* 
find out his name.  How about you?
	"Beats *my* pair of jacks, Al.  All I know is, Beefy Boy there 
is going to be playing Capulet in the school's year-end production of 
`Romeo and Juliet.'  And here we see McIntyre looking around wildly, 
and Lane is open and waving her arms over her head to let him know it.  
He throws her the ball, and -- *ouch!*  She's kissing the floor!  Here's 
hoping that didn't put her in the nasal relapse ward.  Mackenzie and 
Beefy Boy look just as stunned as McIntyre.  They look at him, and he 
just shrugs.  That boy's more dangerous to his *own* team than to his 
opponents."
	You got that right, Desmond.  Now here we see Morgendorffer 
standing by another basket, still looking a little uncertain.  Here comes 
Alice Little, whom some of you may remember from when Romonica DeGregory 
used her as a ringer at the modeling class a while back, and who'll be 
playing Lady Capulet opposite our beefy crew-cut friend.  Little passes 
Morgendorffer the ball over Ruttheimer's head, and she seems to need 
a moment to remember what to do with it, but then -- alley-*oop!  Slam* 
into the basket!  She looks utterly amazed.
	"If you'd ever seen the way she plays volleyball, you'd *really* 
know why she's impressed with herself, Al.  Now Thompson has possession, 
and he's headed for the basket like a bat out of hell.  Cullen dodges 
in beside him and slaps the ball out of his control, right toward Lane, 
who heads back toward her own basket and scores.  Thompson looks mad 
enough to chew nails, doesn't he?"
	I won't argue with that.  And now we see Morgendorffer on 
defense, standing in front of the basket and looking a lot more certain 
than she did before, when -- *ow!* a muffed rimshot nails her right in 
the back of the head and knocks her glasses off.  She picks them up with 
one hand, rubbing the back of her head with the other, then puts them 
on and sees McIntyre grinning apologetically at her, as well he should.  
She rolls her eyes, as well *she* might.  And we'll be back with the 
final score right after this.

				      * * *

Later, in the girl's locker room, Daria was pulling her burnt-orange 
T-shirt over her head, and Jane, minus her red shirt, was lacing up a 
boot.
	"I've noticed something over the past few days," Daria observed.  
"It's not just running you do well.  Have you always been into sports?"
	"Not `into,' exactly," Jane corrected.  "`Capable of doing,' 
yes, but the whole team thing never appealed to me.  It's like the army 
without three square meals and bunk inspection."
	"Until you saw Evan."
	Jane was disgusted.  First Lynn threw young Thomas in her face 
(and the late God knew she didn't need to be reminded of *that* little 
misadventure), now this.  "God, are you damn Smythe sisters going to 
invoke every romantic mistake I've ever made?"  Daria blinked a little 
at that -- it was the most blatant reference to her sisterhood Jane had 
made since learning of it -- but Jane wasn't finished.  "Bring up Bobby 
Bighead, why don't you?"
	The other sister appeared then, fully dressed, and began to 
unravel her braid.  "Bobby Bighead?"
	A huge sigh.  "Met him at a party at Brittany's.  He thought 
my head was a lollipop."
	"*You* were invited to a party at *Brittany's?*"
	"*I* was," Daria corrected.  "*She* crashed.  And her encounter 
with Bad-Pickup-Line Boy earned me a bonus sock, so I'm not really 
complaining."
	"Are you deliberately confusing me?"
	"If we were, it'd be no less than you deserve."  Lynn looked 
blank, and Daria sighed.  "Never mind."  She thought about what to change 
the subject to.  "You two are good out there.  You make a good team."
	"Thanks.  I think."  A speculative look crossed the Peril's face.
	"Do I want to know?" Jane wondered.
	"Oh, nothing," came the slightly too fast reply; "just...got 
hit with an idea.  You know us writers."  She paused, ignoring their 
dubious looks.  "Oh, I left my History textbook in the Merc.  I'll see 
you in class."  She made her exit at high speed.
	Daria and Jane looked at each other.

				      * * *

The next day, the four of them were gathered at A.P.'s locker.  He opened 
it, and various bits of locker detritus fell out.  He gave them all a 
sheepish look as the avalanche came down.
	"You haven't even been here for the whole school year, Maverick," 
Lynn observed.
	"I thought scientists had organized minds," Jane mused.
	"Nah," A.P. said dismissively.  "I bet Einstein was a slob."
	Mr. Caldwell came along then, with Ms. Morris firmly in tow.  
Caldwell looked pleased, while Morris looked reluctant to be there.  
"Good morning!" Caldwell led off, then looked at the locker detritus 
spread out on the floor.  "Oh dear.  I hope you intend on tidying up 
that locker after school today."
	_Okaaay..._  "If you say so, sir."
	"I was hoping to catch up with you, Ms. Cullen, Ms. Lane.  Ms. 
Morris here was filling me in on the progress of our little co-ed gym 
class experiment and she has been very complimentary of your skills on 
the court."
	He waited for a reply.  All he got, however, was four facial 
expressions that clearly conveyed one message, that being "And...?"
	"Now, the Lawndale Lions are primarily known for football, which 
means that there are two sports seasons of every year that we don't get 
a lot of spectator interest.  And our basketball team--"
	He got no further.  Jane & Lynn both said, "No."
	"But...you don't even know what I was going to ask..."
	"You want us on your basketball team," Jane stated flatly.  "No."
	"We have enough commitments," Lynn chimed in.  "I know *I've* 
done enough for the school lately.  The play.  The slave auction.  There 
is only so much a student can be expected to do."
	Caldwell persisted.  "But it would be a great opportunity..."
	"I'd like to focus more on my studies," Jane replied.  "I may 
actually want to go to college.  And I'm in the play too.  So no."
	"Anyway," Lynn insisted, "we're not that good."
	"What *is* it with you two?" Morris barked.  "Are you *so* 
determined to hide your lights under bushels?  You..."  A gesture to 
Lynn.  "...could have made cheerleading squad captain -- if you hadn't 
been so *damn* determined not to smile or participate.  *You*..."  Now 
she turned on Jane.  "...could have made Olympic track, but you tore 
the track team apart for no reason *I* could see!  Why not use your 
talents to someone's benefit?"
	"We do," replied Jane.
	"Our own," Lynn clarified.
	Morris rounded scornfully on Caldwell.  "I told you it would 
take more than just a smile and a question to get these kids motivated."
	Caldwell addressed his next comment to Lynn and Jane, not the 
Iron Maiden.  "I'd like to give you the opportunity to think about this.  
I'll be speaking to you again on this matter."  He and Morris walked 
away, deep in conversation.
	"You *will* be keeping an eye on them, won't you?" Daria asked 
in a just-checking kind of way.
	"An eye and an ear," Lynn assured her.  She paused a moment to 
consider her schedule.  "Damn; I haven't got the *time* for this."
	"Dammit," Jane muttered, "I'm *not* going back into a team.  
Not under *her.*  Not *ever.*"
	"Chill, Art-Smart Scarlet; you're not gonna have to.  They can't 
make you."
	A disbelieving chuckle.  "Want to bet?"
	Daria and A.P. both looked a bit worried at that, and Erudite 
Emerald got more so when she saw the sharp, pondering look on Lynn's 
face.


ACT 3: THE DIVISION BELL

Daria and A.P. were sitting across from each other at a cafeteria table.  
"She's not gonna kill anyone," A.P. insisted, sounding more as if trying 
to convince himself than stating a fact.  "She already *told* me she'd 
never kill anyone."
	"Jane put Ms. Morris off well enough the last time with a minimum 
of effort," Daria added in a similar tone.  "There's nothing to worry 
about."
	"Where *is* she, anyway?"
	Jane arrived and sat down next to Daria.  "Yo."
	"Actually," A.P. told whatever deity might be listening, "I meant 
Purple Peril."
	"Do you get the feeling she's up to something?"
	"I get the feeling she's up to her neck in something," replied 
Daria.  "But on this...yes."
	Lynn showed up, sat next to A.P. and stared at them all levelly.  
"I thought I felt my ears burning."
	"So what's the plan?" demanded Jane.
	"Well, there's a problem.  The way I figure it, the only way 
we're going to convince Caldwell to let us off is if we demonstrate that 
we suck at basketball.  And if we do *that,* we blow the co-ed gym class 
thing."
	"Hobson's choice," Daria shrugged, then took a moment to consider 
the pros and cons.  When she was done with that: "Well, I have to admit, 
I'm not really enjoying doing actual sports in a co-ed forum any more 
than I enjoy waving pom-poms on the sidelines with the girls.  I'm only 
doing this because of the principle involved."
	"Oh," Jane glumly replied.  "Yeah.  The principle."
	Something in her first friend's tone got Daria concerned.  "Jane?"
	A sigh.  "I agree that it's important to be unbiased, Daria, 
but...this is personal.  I can't let them herd me back onto a team.  
It...turned me into someone I didn't really like.  I don't want to let 
anything tempt me into doing that again."
	Silence.  Lynn and A.P. exchanged a confused look, but Daria's 
face showed real understanding.  She decided a tactful change of subject 
was in order.  "And, of course, what with Lynn's schedule -- the band, 
the play, the homework and the...`someplace to be'..."  The inflection 
she put on that caused Lynn to scowl at her, but she didn't much care.  
"...neither of you can afford to hold on to that kind of principle."
	"So, what?  We just...screw up repeatedly?"
	"Looks very much like.  At least until Caldwell comes to see 
us in action."
	"How are we going to screw up?" Lynn wondered.
	A.P. got a mischievous grin.  "Well, all *you* have to do is 
foul a few people..."
	Lynn answered the grin with one of her own.  "Easy enough...
though a lot easier with a weapon, I have to admit."
	"And Art-Smart Scarlet..."  His grin turned sheepish.  "Well, 
all *you* have to do is copy me."

				      * * *

And with that, let's go to *another* highlight reel.
	"Well, Al, here we see Cullen in another face-off, this time 
with Beefy Boy, and -- *ow!*  Right in the nose!  Listen to him scream!  
I don't think she really missed the ball, though -- at least, not by 
accident -- and from the scowl on her face, neither does Coach Morris."
	Probably not.  And here we see Morgendorffer standing by the 
net, still looking uncertain.  The ball bounces her way; she picks it 
up and tosses it toward the basket and -- *oh!*  Rimshot!  Right into 
Thompson's hands, and he takes off for the other side of the gym with 
his goofiest grin.  From the way she's smirking, I suspect she planned 
that.
	"Not with Thompson's help, she didn't, or it wouldn't have come 
off half as well.  Now here's Lane accepting a pass from Angie...oh, 
I forget her last name; she's usually one of the cheerleaders -- and 
Lane goes two steps, kind of accidentally-on-purpose trips over the 
basketball she's trying to dribble, and falls flat on her face.  She 
looks up and smirks at Morris, who's still scowling.  Lot of that going 
around, isn't there?"
	The smirking or the scowling, Desmond?
	"Yes, actually.  And here, one of Andrea Thorne's Goth friends 
-- the one with the streaks in her hair, I forget whether that's Susie 
or Bianca -- has the ball and Cullen, using all the prowess some of you 
may remember from her Pee Wee roller-hockey days in Oakwood, body-checks 
her into a wall.  Gothgirl looks at Cullen, then grabs her and throws 
*her* into the wall.  Cullen seems to be considering her next move, and 
-- *oh!  Not the face!*  Gothgirl's reeling -- *oh!  A flying tackle!*  
Cullen's on the floor!  Can I call this a catfight?"
	If they don't kill you for it, I suspect Morris will.  She looks 
about ready to go DeMartino.  Let's move on.  Here we see Lane aiming 
for a perfectly clear shot, a shot she could make with her eyes closed.  
Whoops, I stand corrected -- she *couldn't* make that shot with her eyes 
closed.  It went sailing lazily to the right of the net, bounced off 
the wall and caught Morgendorffer right in the back of the head.  She 
retrieves her glasses and puts them back on -- is that a *smirk* aimed 
at Morris?  
	"Morris seems to think so; she looks like she's going to weep 
openly any second.  Now Thompson has the ball and Cullen approaches for 
the steal, and -- *oof!*  What is it with that girl and people's noses?  
There's the whistle, and Cullen is benched.  As she goes toward the 
bleachers, she smirks up at Principal Caldwell, who saw the whole thing 
from the nosebleed seats.  He looks like he wishes he hadn't seen it, 
doesn't he, Al?"
	To put it mildly, Desmond.  Let's just go to a commercial while 
we can still escape with our lives...

				      * * *

Afterward, in the: girls' locker room, Daria -- in skirt, boots and her 
LHS gym T-shirt -- grabbed the bottom of the tee and started to pull 
it off...when she noticed Lynn's locker door was standing ajar.  She 
let go of the T-shirt and moved towards the locker slowly, trying to 
peer through the crack, but it was too dark in there to see anything.  
She hesitantly raised a hand...
	"What're you doing?"
	"*Gah!*"  Jane was walking toward her in shorts, leggings and 
T-shirt.  "Don't sneak up on people like that!"  She pulled the shirt 
off over her head -- sorry, guys, but there was just a plain white sports 
bra underneath.  Don't look at *me* in that tone of voice; I'm just as 
disappointed as the rest of you -- and reached for her regular yellow-
orange T-shirt.  "You'll give me a heart attack."
	Lynn approached, in normal clothes modulo the boots and jacket, 
unravelling her braid.  "I think that went well.  You should have seen 
the look on Caldwell's face..."  Then she noticed the look on *Daria's* 
face.  "What's up with you?  You look like you've seen a ghost."
	Daria pulled her normal T-shirt down over her head.  "Jane just 
decided to stalk me, horror-movie style."
	Jane looked up from lacing her boot.  "Hey, that's not fair!  
*You* were" _(breaking into Lynn's locker.)  Let's not go there -- Daria 
would be toast._  "...a million *miles* away!  I can't help it if you 
weren't paying attention!"
	Daria took advantage of Jane's decision to drop the subject.  
"Yeah, it looks like it did go well," she allowed as, doing up her own 
boots.  She thought on it a moment.  "Though I didn't get as close to 
Caldwell's facial expression as you did."
	Lynn shrugged.  "Well, if he wants *me* on his basketball team, 
I'd be greatly surprised."  She went to her locker, reached in and 
grabbed a hairbrush.  "He probably thinks Morris is some kind of 
psychotic, to think that *I'm* any kind of team player."
	Jane shrugged into her red shirt.  "Well, you had to hand it 
to Morris; she didn't lose her cool in front of anyone."
	"No," Daria acknowledged, grabbing her green jacket out of her 
locker, "but she *did* spend an awful lot of time in the storage room 
after Lynn tripped Upchuck and stepped on his head."  She slammed her 
locker door shut.
	"You nearly done?" Jane asked Lynn.
	The Peril continued brushing her hair.  "You go on without me 
-- I'll be with you in a minute."
	Daria and Jane shared a look, then made their exit.

				      * * *

"Thanks for not saying anything," Daria said to Jane as they walked down 
the hall.
	"Hey, you should only be punished for what you've *done,* not 
what you *considered* doing or *nearly* did."  She weighed her words, 
then put them on the table in a worried tone.  "What did you think you 
were going to find?"
	"That's just it; I didn't know."  She considered her strategy, 
then voiced a rueful sigh.  "That's not the way to go about it anyway.  
If we want answers out of her, we'll have to ask to her face.  I just 
haven't been able to yet."
	A.P. arrived then, grinning wildly.  "Hey ho, Erudite Emerald, 
Art-Smart Scarlet!  You guys were *great* out there!"
	"Great?" Jane mock-pouted.  "But we were *supposed* to be 
*terrible!*"
	"We were wonderfully awful," Lynn confirmed as she appeared from 
around the corner.  "Deliciously dreadful."
	"Um...yeah," A.P. yielded to one more skilled with the words.  
"What she said."  There was a pause while everyone graciously let that 
slide.  "Celebration?  I saw Caldwell and he was looking *really* pissed 
off at the Iron Maiden.  Said something about seeing her in hell before 
seeing her recruit for a team again.  I bet she doesn't last out the 
year."
	"A principal who trusts us more than one of his teachers," Daria 
mused.
	That idea froze the entire group for a moment.
	Jane broke the silence.  "Celebration pizza?"  She rounded on 
Lynn.  "And don't you tell me you have someplace to be; we *deserve* 
this."
	"Jane," Lynn replied with the utmost patience, "the reason I 
went through all this was so that I could have time to *be* in that 
someplace else."
	"But Jane's right," Daria insisted, "you *do* deserve this."  
She considered strategy a moment, then pointed out, "You celebrated with 
Mystik Spiral."
	A.P. didn't look happy about this.
	Neither did Lynn.  She sighed, knowing she was trapped.  "You're 
right, okay, I'm sorry, I'm being a stick-in-the-mud."  She needed a 
moment to regroup.  "I didn't realize you were such a party taskmaster, 
Daria."
	"Behind this stoic surface," came the deadpan reply, "lies the 
spirit of a true party animal."  A pause, then she added, still deadpan, 
"Me-ow."  That got a smirk from everyone.
	"In that case, I have to make a phone call.  Later."  As Lynn 
headed off, rather quickly, something dropped out of her pocket and hit 
the ground.
	A.P. picked it up.  "Hey, Purple Peril, you dropped your..."  
He looked at it.  "Filofax?"  He needed a moment to recover from that.  
"Since when does she keep her schedule written down?"
	"Since it became so full of mysterious *things,* probably," Jane 
half-gritted.
	"I'll return it to her," Daria assured them.  "I have Econ with 
her next."  A.P. nodded and handed it over before heading away.  Jane 
looked pointedly at Daria, then at the book in her hands, then left.  
To her credit, Daria hesitated before opening it; to her debit, it was 
only for a moment.  "4 till 7," she read under her breath, "locks -- 
Rust."  That threw her.  "What the hell?"  She shut it hurriedly and 
wandered off.  _This isn't over._


ADAPTOR'S NOTES
	I don't do sport either, but I can fake it pretty well.  (In 
something of an irony, it's my mother, not my father, that's the real 
sports-nut in the Loomis household.)
	Yes, the mention of "Lorena" is a sbbeD.D reference.
	"Al" wants it known, just in case anyone besides Canadibrit had 
ever wondered, that he has no particular objection to the name she gave 
him for his season-opener synopsis.  He (or the part of my personality 
that manifests through him) insisted on doing the montages in highlights-
reel style; anything you don't like about them is to be blamed on him, 
and maybe on "Desmond" (people who've read my IOU stuff know the latter 
by another name).  If enough people gritch about the second one, I could 
be persuaded to remaster it, as I'm not really happy with it myself.
	"A shade between International Orange and Stearman Vermillion" 
was once used by the World War I Flying Ace, in a Determined Productions 
book whose name escapes me a the moment, to describe the color of the 
Red Baron's infamous Fokker Triplane.
	Actually, I think the name "Bobby Bighead" is from the episode 
itself, not just a fannish coinage.  As I recall (and if I'm wrong, I 
hope somebody'll correct me), Daria asks after him by that name when 
Jane comes back with the bonus sock.
	Obligatory legal blap: Daria Morgendorffer was created (as were 
the rest of the Lawndale characters) by Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis 
Lynn, and she and her neighbors are copyright 1993, 1997, 2000 MTV 
Networks, a Viacom company.  (As Michelle Klein-Haess has pointed out, 
work-for-hire sucks the yolks from ostrich eggs.)  Monty Python quotes 
and characters are copright 1970, 2000 Python (Monty) Pictures Ltd.  
Quote from a "Peanuts" book is copyright sometime in the 1960s United 
Feature Syndicate, known for the last few years as United Media.  They 
are here used, without the permission of their creators or owners, in 
the not-for-profit context of fan-fiction.  The characters of Lynn Cullen 
and A.P. McIntyre are copyright 1999, 2000 Janet "Canadibrit" Neilson, 
as is this storyline, which was adapted by Austin Loomis (to whom the 
prose format version is copyright 2000) with permission.
	All other characters, locations and incidents (of which I don't 
think there are any, actually) are either imaginary or used fictitiously. 
Any coincidence of names is regretted, and any resemblance to persons 
living, dead, undead, or wandering the night in ghostly torment is either 
purely satirical or not my fault.
	As a "substantially transformative" derivative work, this story 
is protected by the Supreme Court's decision in re Campbell v. Acuff 
Rose Music.  It may be freely redistributed as long as this copyright 
notice is maintained intact, but may not be in any way redistributed 
for profit without the permission of the legal owners of all concepts 
involved.  The present author hereby gives permission for any and all 
keepers of Daria fanfic pages to archive this work (as if I could stop 
them).  Any publication of this story for profit without the express 
written permission of Austin Loomis, Janet Neilson, United Media and 
MTV Networks (like any of that'll happen, especially the last) is 
strictly prohibited, and violators, if I ever decide to track them down, 
will be strung up by the thumbs, beaten about the head and shoulders 
with a free-range carrot, and then handed over to corporate lawyers who 
will do terrible things to them.  On purpose.

Austin, and good day.
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