Bromwell Bound: That One Fateful Summer

By Matthew McGeehin

"It was over." That was the only thought going through my mind as I arrived home. There was a lot said, and a lot unsaid, but that was the only truth in my mind at that second. My relationship with Daria Morgendorffer was over.

It had been over for a week now, and I was finally over the shock enough to think about it. I suppose Daria was right: It really couldn't be helped. We might have still been able to do things over the summer together, but when college came around, it would be over. We both knew how long the car trip between them would be, and, even if we weren't the slow drivers Mom was, it was too far for a day trip between Raft and Bromwell. And then there was the other things Daria had said. I didn't disagree, it was true. We truly were headed for different places, although I didn't agree with her either. It may have just been her self-consciousness acting up again, as it tended to do during our relationship. Uncomfortable with anyone getting close to her, she often tried to force me away with such conversations whenever she felt nervous, which happened quite a bit. It was pretty annoying for her to constantly be shoved aside due to her own nerves. But I was a good sport and let her sort things out. And here was where it led me.

She said that she still liked me. She was happy that we went out. Our relationship had run it's course romantically, but she still liked me as a friend. Was it compensation? A kiss-off? Whatever it was, it was practically the only thing keeping me sane.

The drive home took ages, I hadn't the effort to swerve through traffic. Once I reached home, I went upstairs immediately, and collapsed upon my bed, not even bothering to take off my shoes. The blinds were closed and I lay on my side, staring a hole into the opposite wall. There was so much running through my mind, and all of it about Daria. Was she lying about how Bromwell affected her? Possibly, but probably not. Daria would never care what some stranger thought of her application. Was she angry that I made it in? Although I doubted that too, I couldn't deny this as much as the former. She was definitely bitter about that at the pizza place. But that couldn't be the only reason.

"Tom." Mom's voice sounded from the outside. "It's dinner time." She called.

"I'll be right there." I called. I sighed briefly before exiting my room and headed downstairs for dinner. Already seated at the table was Elsie, a look of boredom on her face as she waited for her food. Every so often, she sniffed and rubbed her nose.

"She was using again." I noted. Like me, Elsie tried to get away from all the upper-crustiness of the world we were born into, but she did it through a lot of other vices, like cocaine and booze. We've had some wine as a family before, but only a glass on Thanksgiving. I was proud of the fact that I wasn't a drinker, and I had never, not even once, touched those other drugs. Elsie hadn't told anyone about her slumming forays, and she thought no one could discover her. Mom was clueless about the world outside her ivory tower, and Dad was barely around, but I knew what went on at the shows I went to, and I could spot a user. I never confronted her about it. How Elsie screwed up her life was her business, and it kept her and her problems far away from me.

"Oh, dear. It seems your father is working late again." Mom seemed genuinely disappointed.

"What a surprise." Elsie sarcastically stated. Not that I expected different.

"Elsie!" Mom voiced back at her. I remained quiet. Those little mother-daughter spats were the background noise of my home life.

"I'm sure he'll be home in time for dessert." Mom took her seat as the food was being brought out. Although I was feeling hungry, and the food, as always, was delicious, I took bird-like bites and barely concentrated on my food, still putting Daria's words together in my head.

"So, Elsie." Mom spoke from across the table. "Anything new happen with you today."

"Trying to feed the beast?" I wondered silently to myself. Elsie casually brushed Mom off with her usual stock questions. Mom continued to prod, trying to recall some of Elsie's friends. All questions elicited the same base monosyllabic responses from Elsie. At last Mom gave up, and turned her attention to me.

"Tom, are you not hungry? You've barely touched your Cordon Bleu." Mom asked me. I wasn't even paying attention to her question when she asked it, and stared vacantly into my plate.

"Tom." Mom asked, even more forceful then before. I snapped out of it, and became nervous. Although I was infinitely better at deflecting Mom's questions then Elsie, a distracted vacant stare like the one I had was near-impossible to deflect without out and out lying.

"Just a stomachache." I replied. "Nothing serious. What did you do today?" The perfect deflection for any parent: Be interested in them. Mom starting talking about the art gallery and a new exhibit they had prepared, but my mind started to wander again.

"Am I really that stuck-up?"

After dinner, I retreated back into my room. The phone rang a few times, but I ignored it. I stared at the empty dark space. I'd been staring at it all week vacantly, looking into the void to find the answers to my void.

"Why should we work at it when we're already bored with each other?" Daria's voice reverberated in my mind. So did her reply to my protests.

"Really? Or are you just upset that I admitted it first?" Her voice was so clear in my mind. Was I bored with her? Were we just going through the motions because we couldn't muster the effort to break up? I couldn't believe that. I enjoyed my time with Daria, right up until the end. Even when we were fighting, I felt something. She was worth her insecurities.

So what was it? Was she just furious with me? Another classic Daria moment where she broke up with me, only to get back together once she got over herself and her nerves?

"No." I said aloud sadly, the first word I'd spoken in hours. I sniffed. My stomach felt pains from emptiness, and I realized that I really didn't eat anything at dinner. Perhaps I needed a break from my thoughts.

I thought about calling Jane, but decided against it as I reached for the phone. In a battle between me and Daria, Jane would side with Daria, and I didn't need that. I had to go out with people that knew nothing about Daria.

Knock, knock. Before I could do anything, there was a knock on the door.

"It's open." I replied, quickly flipping on the light. If it was Elsie, I'd throw her out. I was in no mood for her crap.

"Sweetie." It was Mom. She opened the door.

"Yeah?" I asked. Another round of stall-the-parent.

"Are you feeling better?" She asked. Mom was truly concerned, she always had been. Kay Sloane was easily the densest person around when it came to the world outside her door. A thousand dollars for a benefit was pocket change for her, but some people didn't have that kind of money to throw around. She tried to be involved, and I suppose I should have respected that. She approached being a parent through the same tinted glasses, and wouldn't understand my problems.

"I'm fine now. It might have just been what I ate for lunch." Nothing could be further from the truth, but she'd have no reason to doubt me.

"Well, don't forget that graduation luncheon is tomorrow. Your father will be home and we'll be having lunch at the club."

"That sounds...great." I faked a smile. "Dad's finally going to show up for a meal." Mom let out a slight chuckle. She never got angry with me when I pointed out Dad's absences. Unlike Elsie, I never used it as leverage against either of my parents.

"You know he cares for you." She reminded, although not sternly. It was true, Dad wouldn't work those long hours at the investment firm if he didn't. But I had gone weeks without seeing or even hearing from him. Not that I didn't know where he was. But he had no clue where I went. He cared, but he wasn't interested.

"Why don't you invite Daria?" Mom noted cheerfully. "And her family. Wouldn't that be splendid?" Mom certainly seemed enthusiastic about it. I tried desperately to avert my gaze, so she wouldn't see all the color drain from my skin.

"I'll call, but I doubt it." I replied quickly, eager to change the topic. "Daria's probably got plans with her family, not to mention Jane. I don't think her family will be home."

"They won't?" Mom seemed mildly disgusted at the thought. But she had barely known Jane, let alone her parents. I never even met them. There was no mention of inviting Jane at all.

"Well, I suppose it's unavoidable. Don't forget to eat something a little later. You'll get sick." Mom turned out and left. I leaned back on the bed, and realized I needed to get out of here. I had enough of my prodding family for one day. Who knows if Elsie was going to try something. She would know something was up.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Brandon, one of my friends from school. Most people who went to Fielding were stuck-up jerks and debutantes. In my class of a few hundred, the ones I could stand to be around could be counted on my fingers.

"Hello." The voice sounded from the phone.

"It's Tom." I replied.

"Hey, what's up." The voice dropped it's pretense and started speaking in a normal tone. This was almost the norm with Brandon, whose father was the Governor. Perfect little boy until he knew he could drop his guard.

"I need to get out of this house." I replied. A simple sentence, but it said so much more to the people I knew.

"Wish I could help, Tom, but Rebecca and I are going to be busy tonight. We'll catch you at the luncheon though. And hey, congratulations on Bromwell."

"There's no need for false surprise." I retorted. After Daria's comments to me, the last thing I wanted to here were people congratulating me about Bromwell. There would be enough of that all summer.

"Sorry." Brandon replied. "See ya." The phone clicked. I sighed. Rebecca was Brandon's girlfriend, the daughter of a lawyer couple, and perhaps the only girl at Fielding who was remotely tolerable to be around, although my family and hers never really got together, for some reason. But the keyword in that sentence was girlfriend, and that was something I did not want to be around.

I sighed again, and got up to leave my room. Outside of my door, I saw Elsie.

"What do you want?" I asked. I had even less of a desire to deal with her then usual.

"Oh, just catching the show." Elsie teased. "So tell me, Thomas." Elsie's tone turned to mocking, her usual tone whenever we were alone.

"Are you headed out to that dive in Lawndale with that misery chick and her so-called artist friend?"

"Does it make a difference to you?" The question was insincere, but effective at stopping her; Elsie had to try and get a one-up on every thing she ever said, and it would be difficult to do so with a question.

"Well, if you're going out then drop me off in town."

"I don't think so. I'm going someplace that requires actual thought, so you wouldn't be interested." I resisted the urge to mention something about sex or drugs. I knew that she knew, but she didn't. Arrogant Elsie always thought she was crafty, but she possessed all the subtlety of a brick to the face, and it only worked on people who were denser then she was. But I could let her think whatever she wanted. At least then she wouldn't delve deeper to try and one-up me on another level.

I pushed past Elsie, ignoring her protests. It was easy enough to head outside and make it to my Rustmobile. I wanted to avoid Lawndale, but there was really nowhere else to go.

"I figure if I just avoid the pizza place, Daria won't be around." I smiled. The trip to Lawndale was a short trip, and soon I found myself at Zon, that club where Trent always played. I resolved to take a quick peek inside, and, if Mystik Spiral was playing, I'd duck out. Even if Daria wouldn't be there, Jane probably would. And she'd spot me from a mile away.

It definitely wasn't Trent's band playing. It was some band called The Harpies, all all-girl group. They weren't bad, but definitely not as good as Trent's band. I bought a soda and tried to get into the groove, but I found I couldn't get into like it was with Spiral. I looked around to survey the crowd, and found most of the crowd was people I'd avoid. They definitely looked like a rougher bunch, probably did all sorts of terrible stuff out back. But I started to sift through the crowd to see if there were any decent people here. Just when I started thinking that the night would be a total bust, I started to see someone who was halfway decent. Short, blonde, her eyes twinkled, clearly she was enjoying the lyrics of the song. She caught my gaze and smiled. Seeing my entrance, I strode up towards her.

"Hey." I said. The girl didn't reply. Now that I was closer to her, I could see that she was clearly older then me. Probably 22 or 23. I started to think this was a mistake. Five years was a pretty big difference considering I usually only dated girls my age.

"Good band, huh?" She asked me.

"They're not bad." I replied. "I saw Spiral here last week though, and they rocked."

"You know Spiral?" The girl seemed enchanted. "I've always wanted to come see them. I'm Karen."

"Tom." I replied.

"So, Tom, how about another drink for us."

"What's in that cup?"

"Jack and coke." She replied. Wow, I was right, definitely older.

"Sorry, won't be able to help you there."

"Too young, sweetheart?" She teased. "Well, maybe I can tuck you in later tonight."

"Or I'll put you to bed. And make sure you've had your Valium."

"Ouch." Karen was surprisingly amused by my comment. I wasn't trying to joke around with her; I had thought she was dismissing me, but now she seemed eerily amused. Some girls liked that, although I didn't think she would.

"Then why don't I order for you, sweetcakes." She teased again. "A drink for that mouth. What's your poison?"

"I'm not much of a drinker."

"Good boy, eh? I can do that. Yo, get me two Jack and Cokes, make one a double." The barkeep quickly made the drinks. She handed one to me.

"Cheers, boy." She downed her cup. I wasn't much of a drinker. I've had a drink or two, and was never too keen on doing it again. But I drank up, drank the entire glass.

"Not supposed to do the whole thing if you're not used to it, boy. I gave you the double." I started to feel the whiskey fairly quickly. My head started to swim, and I almost thought I'd lose my balance.

"Wow, boy, you're not much of a drinker."

"That's what I said." I replied. "Sorry about that."

"Need to build it up sometime. Come on, let's get you some air." Karen led me outside, and the rush of air made me shiver.

"You come here often, boy?" She asked me. I didn't answer, I was still shaking off the dizzy feeling.

"Boy, you're too nervous. Here, let me show you what to do." Before I knew what was happening, Karen had stepped forward, right into my personal space. She grabbed the back of my head, and forced my lips to hers. Her tongue probed and parted my lips.

I barely knew what was happening. Karen was a good kisser, better then Daria was. Even Jane. Probably had more experience. Although part of me was ready to reciprocate, I heard a voice calling my name. A snarky, high pitched woman's voice, calling out my name as a question.

"Tom?" It was Daria's voice I heard. I broke it off. Was my conscience still acting strangely.

But then I discovered that it wasn't a voice in my head. It was real. Standing behind Karen was Daria, her eyes in wide shock.

"Daria!" I was genuinely surprised to see her here. Without Trent or Jane, these venues held little enough appeal for her, and they was nowhere in sight. I immediately broke contact with Karen and moved towards her.

"It looks like you're doing well." Daria responded in her cynical monotone. "You've got lipstick on your face." My face turned a bright red as I wiped my face.

"What brings you here?" I asked politely.

"I can see what brought you." Daria commented, causing me to scowl. That was a low blow.

"I didn't come here to make out with strangers."

"Don't you need your car for that?" Again with the low blows.

"And you haven't lost your touch. I'd almost think you were jealous." I winced inwardly as I said that. Although Daria knew about our verbal sparring, it may not have been the most tactful approach. But I definitely wanted her to stop with the snipes.

"Of course not. We're not dating. Who you lock lips with is none of my business." Daria protested, but I could see right through her. She was good at hiding her feelings, but I had been dating her for months. I knew when something bothered her.

Part of me told myself to back off. There was no sense compounding on an already awkward situation. But another part of me told me to press it. A nagging voice from deep within told me that she was vulnerable, and that this was my chance to take revenge on her for the break-up, for the misery I suffered at her hands. I suppressed the dark desire.

"So, aren't you going to introduce me?" Daria's voice still sounded like a put-on.

"I've already figured it out, girl." Karen replied. Daria did not reply to her.

"I'll just leave you two, then." Karen turned back towards Zon.

"Hey, Karen, wait up!" I called. But she had already walked back in, and probably forgotten all about me. I took in a deep breath and ignored my knee-jerk reaction to blame Daria. This wasn't her fault.

"You're not going to chase her? I mean, a second ago..."

"Look, that was a fluke, okay. She spiked my drink, I was feeling flushed..."

"Wow, you really do know how to make a girl feel special." Daria noted.

"Daria, does this truly bother you?" I dealt with the elephant in the room. "That I was with someone else."

"I've already answered that. No, it doesn't." Daria lied through her teeth. "Who you date is not my concern."

"I wasn't dating her, I just met her half an hour ago."

"And already making out. Wow, that's some kind of record." My bitterness rose with Daria's assaults. I tried to let her comments brush off me, just as I did when I was seeing Jane, but found it was no longer working, the voice in my head telling her to go on the offensive. I repressed the urge to lash out at her again, but it took a lot longer to do.

"Is Jane with you?" I tried, pleasantly, to change the subject.

"Want to make out with her, or just want her to watch?" I felt something snap within my head, the deep rage within could no longer be denied.

"Why don't you just say what really bothers you." I scowled, clenching my fists and started accusing her. "You seeing me with someone else so quickly disturbs you. It makes you feel worse about yourself."

"Hey!" Now Daria became incensed. "I just told you..."

"And you're still here." I returned, interrupting her. "You're still fighting."

"I'm not fighting with you because I'm angry, it's because this is hilarious." Daria returned.

"Let me in on the joke, then?" I had no more patience.

"It would be wasted on you." She returned.

"Or because it doesn't exist." I crossed my arms across my chest. "I hit it right on the head. You're mad that I've gotten over what you put me through."

"On someone you found two seconds ago." Daria had returned to her brief comments. I was in no mood.

"There you go again, Daria. Do you want me to mope around, lying on my bed crying, holding the sheets to my face because they smell like you?"

"Tom, I just said..."

"I heard you just fine. Now, really answer the question. Are you truly amused by the fact that I was kissing someone else, or are just angry. Angry because I got over you first?" I picked my words carefully to mimic what she told me at the pizza place for maximum effect. She would get the reference. I expected another lash out, another cynical comment. Instead, she said nothing. Her face gave away nothing; I couldn't tell if she was angry or sad. So I made the first move. I thought about going back to Karen, but decided against it. I had absolutely no desire to discuss anything relating to Daria right now, and I would have owed her an explanation. So, I went over to my Rustmobile, and drove right back home.

"Did I go too far?" I thought as I drove home. What I said didn't surprise me, but how I felt about it truly shocked me. Shocked and sickened me, my stomach turned in protest. A week of wallowing in misery turned to such bitterness. I knew that I wasn't over what had happened, but I had thought it just needed a distraction. But now I found myself driving the knife in deeper, using what I knew about Daria to cause her doubt and misery. Despite all of Daria's deep insecurities, doubt was an extremely effective weapon against her. Her attitude was all she had.

I knew that Daria was no saint either. Although she did almost exactly what I expected her to do, she did it anyway. She knew full well how I felt about her, how much her opinion mattered to me. I had made no illusions about it. I don't know what her goal with her taunts was. Was it merely her stark commentary on the situation, friendly concern manifested in all the wrong ways, like how she and I teased Jane's friend Nathan, or did she too have her own darkness. Did she resent me for the break-up? My initial thought was to dismiss that idea: It was Daria's idea to break up, not mine. Was she merely trying to hate me? Or was I correct in ways I didn't imagine. Did she want me to long for her?

"Just like you." A voice in my head reminded me. "You wanted Daria to feel like you did when she hurt you." I did. Part of me didn't want to hurt her, most of me didn't want to hurt her. But her callousness caused me a great amount of hurt, and she wasn't hurt by it. She wanted to end our relationship no matter what it did to me. Why should I consider her feelings when I didn't register on hers.

It wasn't too late by the time I made it home. We had no curfew, not that Mom or Dad would have been awake to enforce anything. I snuck quietly up to my room, trying to avoid everyone. Luckily, I was able to do so. I stewed quietly as I got ready for bed. There was so much that I hated right now. I hated Daria for her cruel actions today, and for her showing up, making me realize how not over her I really was. I hated Karen for being so forward, for her slick pick-up tricks, taking advantage of a stupid little rich kid. But most of all, I hated myself. I hated myself for getting angry with Daria when I knew better. I hated myself for knowing how to cut her down, and acting on it. I hated that I knew how much this would hurt her, and I did it anyway. And I hated that I reasoned it was the most efficient course of action. I span around to hit the lights, and climbed into bed. I tried to blot out my thoughts about Daria and tonight. The whiskey from that shot helped, and soon I was fast asleep.

The next morning, I started to get ready for lunch. Dad would be there, supposedly. I doubted he'd miss it, but other things had happened. Dad had missed most of my birthdays to work, this was just another day for him.

"Good morning, Tom." Mom came to the door. "Oh, you're already ready? You came in late last night."

"Not very late." I returned. True enough, I was home by 11, and I got to sleep fairly quickly. I was usually in much later.

"Did Daria ever call?" Mom asked.

"No." I replied. "Sorry, Mom."

"Oh, well, it can't be helped. Dear, would you put on your good shoes, please. And Tom, those pants? They're so wrinkled."

"Mom, it's the country club, everyone knows who we are and no one will care because you serve on the Board." I returned.

"There's no excuse to not be presentable." Mom returned. "Now get your good pants on, Tom." She left to give me some privacy, and I started to oblige. This was honestly not worth the fight. Presentable. Such an ugly word. Mom's obsession with appearance reminded me of Daria's vain little sister Quinn. After changing, I regarded the mirror.

"Not a wrinkle, not a hair out of place." I inwardly groaned at myself. The mirror looked the same as it did any other day, and just showed my reflection. But as I regarded myself, I felt that bile in my throat rise again.

"Presentable. Yes indeed." My mind sounded, and I wondered whether I was talking to my reflection, or my reflection was talking to me.

"Handsome as ever, Tom Sloane. But a handsome monster. A beautiful face to hide your evil mind, clean clothes to disguise your twisted heart. And you go out again with the smiles and the chuckles, to the people you hate. Your world, just like Daria said."

I nearly took my old sneakers to smash the mirror. But smashing the mirror wouldn't do anything. All it would do was create a mess to clean up. I avoided looking at it as I went downstairs to announce my presence.

The luncheon at the club was every bit as insipid and dull as I imagined. Mom truly was proud, although I had no idea how much pride she could take in this event. It wasn't as if I wasn't going to graduate from Fielding. I had made salutorian, which I guess was some sort of accomplishment, but that didn't register as important on my radar. Dad, to my surprise, made it as well. Elsie was absent, my one saving grace. I sat quietly, trying to make sure I had food in my mouth at all times. I had hoped it would make an effective deterrent to questions, but family friends always seem to want to probe the guest of honor with mindless questions. They would have all already known about my acceptance to Bromwell, but they all seemed to want to shake my hand and tell me about my future.

"I feel like I'm in some sort of crappy sci-fi movie." It was such a shame that Mom seemed to only invite the childless couples, so there was no one even remotely interesting to talk to. Where did Brandon and Rebecca disappear to? And how could I vanish before I incurred a cerebral hemorrhage from this stupidity.

"I suppose faking vomiting would work, even if it was bad form." But, as if in spite, my stomach decided to sit quietly.

An hour and a half passed like an eternity. As we left the club, I looked around, trying desperately to find something, anything, that would get me away from this place.

"Oh, Tom, you know who I heard from today?" Mom asked.

"Who?" I bit the bullet, not that I would have been able to get away from the answer anyway. Mom wouldn't tell me if she didn't want me to know.

"Andrew Landon." Dad answered. I remembered the name. Andrew was the father of Jodie Landon, one of Daria's friends.

"He's on the wait list at Winged Tree, right?" I remembered him saying something like that last year, the last time I had even associated with him.

"Exactly. We're going to meet him this Saturday. Maybe you should join us. His daughter went to school with Daria, didn't she?" Mom asked.

"She did. I don't think I could make it, though. Besides, don't you do the vigorous screening or whatever it is with Mr. Landon. I'll pass." I walked away from my parents, not even bothering to wait for them. I was so sick of hearing about Daria-related topics. I knew I could put a stop to it by telling my folks we broke up, but that felt like defeat.

I didn't want to head home, it would have been too easy for my parents to find me. But, I had to go home anyway to change. As I changed, my phone started to ring. It made me panic, and I was worried that it was Daria. But it continued to ring after 4 rings, so I picked up the line.

"Hello?"

"Tom?" There was a woman's voice on the other line. It was Jane.

"Jane?" I asked. To hear from her what quite a shock when it wasn't late in the day. Even at 2:00 PM, it was odd that Jane would be awake without a reason such as school.

"I called to see if you were in need of rescue from your family." Jane stated. I chuckled. Jane would often call to rescue me from family bonding time, not to mention how often the two of us did it with Daria. Although the luncheon was over, who knew what other hell my parents had in store. Maybe they'd try a family game of golf. I shuddered.

"What was that noise?" Jane asked. I had forgotten that I was still on the phone.

"I was imagining the 7th layer of hell."

"Spending time with your sister?"

"Not even Satan wants her there. Got plans in mind?" I asked jovially, almost pathetically eager.

"Well, right now I'm working on a sculpture, something I'm going to bring with me to BFAC once I get there mid-semester."

"Boston Fine Arts College? I didn't know you made it in." I stated.

"Oh...right. Well, get your ass on over here and I'll tell you all about it. Besides, I need a critic."

"One chewing out, coming right up." Jane always put me in a good mood. We had put a little distance between us when we broke up, but we had reconciled during my time with Daria, and Jane and I often went to Mystik Spiral's gigs. Trent and the band seemed eager to have me along, although I had only conversed with Trent at any length. Of course, conversations with Trent were limited to food, sleep, and hot girls. I never gave input into his music, and everything else went over his head.

I had no idea if Daria had told her anything about last night. I figured that Jane would know. Daria's closest friend, girls share everything, and all some such nonsense. I knew if I went over there, I'd have to be on my guard. Jane rarely could muster up the effort for any sort of subtlety, but she had her ways.

But anything would be better then my parents' plans. Even an interrogation.

"I'll be over in ten minutes."

The Lane household spawned some of the most creative thinkers I knew. Jane may have been single-minded in her art, often forgetting I'd even be around once she got started. But her obsession was well-deserved. I didn't know the first thing about how success worked or was even measured in the art world, but Jane had talent. Trent was the only other Lane I knew, and he knew how to rock a venue. From what I gathered, there was other Lanes elsewhere in the world. The parents chasing the next great Muse somewhere across the world, and her siblings. If I remembered correctly, one sold things at third-world craft stands, one was divorced several times, and the other one had problem children who ran away from home frequently. I could probably even remember their names if I thought hard enough. Jane only talked of them dismissively, so I thought it best not to prod anymore then that. Daria never spoke of them at all.

Jane answered the door. Dressed in red and black as always, she seemed exactly the same. It almost soothed me to see how unchanged she looked, ever since my world had turned upside down.

"Hey. How ya' doin'?" Jane seemed happy to see me. Our relationship had gotten to the point where we even hugged on occasion.

"Graduation luncheon with my parents. A bunch of old people posturing themselves and drinking to forget the fact that they're practically useless now that they can't give me lectures." I didn't exactly answer her question although she would understand.

"If only there was some way we could all that useless pretense into feeding the hungry."

"Well, they do seem to thrive on it. Maybe we should take the food away and test your theory. So, show me the sculpture." I invited. Jane led me upstairs to her room. Her studio space had many haphazard projects thrown around.

"You should just use this room as your masterpiece. How you can live, watch TV, and work on half a dozen concurrent projects has to be worth something."

"The only downside was occasionally touching hot solder. What do you think?" Jane showed me her latest work, a creation made from wood with various materials around it. I had always considered paintings to be Jane's best medium. Her work was so evocative on canvas that it seemed to suck me into separate worlds. I could see how she would get so drawn in sometimes, although Jane tended to take it to the extremes. The sculpture she showed me was something different.

"Did you throw dirt on it?" I asked.

"Instant tea mix." She replied.

"Is a comment on the frivolity of society? How we're so used to the quick-fix get-it-done now attitude that we can't take in the classics?" I asked.

"It was the best color of brown can find, and it was powdery enough to spread with a brush without sticking too much." The way we spoke about her art, my searching for a deeper meaning and Jane's sarcastic briefs, were almost like a private joke between us. It was the backbone of our relationship when we went out, aside from the physical attraction.

"You don't like it, do you?" Jane asked. I couldn't lie to Jane about her art, not that I would. It meant too much to her.

"You know I'm better with your paintings anyway." I defended. I didn't state that I didn't like it, but I really think she had done better.

"Sorry, I've just been distracted lately."

"Distracted?" I asked.

"BFAC admissions, had a lot of trouble deciding whether or not to go. And now that it's all over with I'm finally getting back into the idea of making work to impress people. I only had to throw up twice today."

"I didn't know anything about it." I reminded her. "I know you had applied to some minor colleges that turned you down, but that was about it."

"Yeah, there is a lot more to the story then that. Well, originally I hadn't decided to go to college at all."

"I know that part." I replied. "And congratulations, now that I know about it. BFAC's tough, that you produced art to impress them just validates the talent we both knew you had." I remembered Daria's accusations about Raft, and I wasn't going to fall for that one.

"You mean you knew I had. I wasn't going to do it until Daria kept nagging me." My face paled a bit. I knew the conversation would turn to Daria eventually. In relation to Jane wasn't bad, but it was still the topic of college. But my curiosity was peaked.

"So Daria got you to go?"

"Yeah, Daria kept nagging me and nagging me. Of course, this was after she got wait listed at Bromwell, so she told me she'd take you up on your offer to write a recommendation if I sent in a port..." Jane's lips kept moving, but my ears stopped functioning. Rage at Daria impeded my senses. Jane turned to look at me, and saw my choler.

"Oh, crap." Jane paused.

"Wait, she didn't really want me to do that for her? It was just a bribe to get you to apply to college."

"Hey!" Now Jane was upset. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not talking about you, Jane, I'm talking about her. I can't believe it. That recommendation was positively glowing." I wasn't about to let Jane change the subject.

"And yet, she still didn't get in." Jane commented.

"All that effort, the careful choosing of words." I continued to rant.

"So you had to stretch to write it?" Jane accused.

"No!" I shot back. "But you only get one chance to write it, so it has to be done right on the first try."

"And yet, she still didn't get in." Jane echoed.

"Jane, why are you defending her?" I asked. "This doesn't bother you, that she took advantage of me and my mother?"

"I'm not defending her, I'm just glad she cared enough about my future to do something she didn't want to do. And anyway, what do you care? You're the one who said all that alumni crap didn't mean that much." Jane snuck in an accusation.

"Ouch." I thought. That wasn't a low blow, that was straight for the jugular. And I had no defense against it.

"I...I was willing to do what it took to help her get in. I figured it couldn't hurt." My protest was weak, but it was the best I could muster. I knew Jane could shatter it. Hell, I could shatter it myself.

But Jane didn't shatter it. She looked as though she was about to, but stopped herself. Her eyes grew wide, her shoulders slumped. Her face lost it's choler.

"You believe it, don't you?" Jane said, but her tone had dropped it's accusatory remark. Instead, she sounded almost remorseful, as if she had come to the conclusion that I had been trying so painfully to deny, and lamented the fact that she was using it against me. I realized then that I had never told Jane about Bromwell, and how much this was bothering me. Did she discover my concern over my admission just now, or did she think about it earlier, and never talked to me about it?

"Tom." Now she sounded almost repentant. "I know your grades, your activities, and all that. You deserved to get into Bromwell." I didn't believe her. How could I believe her?

"Jane, I have to go." I told her, and before she could stop me, I practically fled from her house.

I didn't know where to go anymore. I had to find something, anything, that would distract me from thinking too much. I would have loved to hit the Zon, but it tended not to be open in the late afternoon. There was no one else to meet in Lawndale, and I'd have to head back home if I wanted to call anyone, and that left the potential for an interrogation from Mom, or worse, the concept of spending a day together now that Dad had taken the day off.

I settled on the library. It certainly wasn't the epitome of exciting, but it would keep me busy for a few hours. At least by then, the Zon would be open, and then I would be perfectly capable of losing myself in a crowd of hard-rockers, even if the band sucked. I took my seat at a table and started reading various books on the Russian Revolution. Most of it was information I already knew. But I found I couldn't lose myself in the books. I knew this stuff, I did get good grades. I know what students getting into Bromwell were getting as far as academics were concerned, and there was no reason for me to not believe that I lacked for that. My standardized test scores were impeccable, a perfect math SAT score and a decent enough verbal; certainly enough to make it there. Like Daria, I didn't have much in the way of extra-curricular school activities, although I was able to write down enough to at least fill in the four lines they allotted on the application, but only because I wrote sentences rather then a list. And my interview with Lisa was flawless.

"So then, why? Why should Daria's bitterness bother you. If you know you made it in, why does the fact that someone's jilted reaction get to you." The words of the book started to swirl, and I couldn't read anymore. I slammed the books down, and left quickly, trying to find anything to waste the time until the Zon opened.

But there was nothing, so I decided to sneak back home.

"Oh, Tom, there you are." Mom noticed me come in.

"Crap." I thought.

"I thought we'd all spend the day together." She stated. If it were anyone other then her, I would have figured someone was trying to guilt-trip me. She just didn't possess the subtlety.

"Wish you woulda said something. Besides, Jane called." My tone was neither repentant nor accusatory. That was always my biggest weapon against spending time with my mother, she never said everything.

"Oh, how is Jane?" Mom asked.

"She's fine. She's going to art college, Boston Fine Arts."

"Well isn't that lovely." Mom replied, her golden standard for saying the right thing even though she didn't mean it. Mom had been cordial to Jane, but behind closed doors I knew that she didn't approve of me dating her, for a wealth of reasons ranging from becoming an artist to her less-then-impressive academic scores to her parents. I had to resist the urge to tell Mom that Dad was about as involved as the Lanes, but that wasn't the entire truth. In the over half a year I dated Jane, her parents weren't even home. I couldn't accuse Angier Sloane of that.

"Well, dear, I wish you'd reconsider about the Landons." Mom stated. "It's a good idea to know the people who might be in the country club."

"Mom, I only ever go to the country club for the occasional meal. I don't even know how to play golf, and I've never wanted to learn it. Besides, you're the ones who make the decisions on who gets in, not me."

"I think the diversion would do you some good, Tom. Ever since you got accepted into Bromwell, you've been so moody, and you're never around."

"Mom, I wasn't around before I got accepted." I reminded her. "There's only so long I can hear Dad lecture someone about properly ironing his underpants or Elsie's moans about how much she hates to go to formal events, but not enough to pig out and flirt with all the boys." Mom chuckled. I would always joke with her about our lack of home life; it disguised how I really felt about it.

"Sweetie, are you still moody because of Daria?" She asked, her inflection telling me her concern was real. For a second, I nearly forgot that Mom did not know Daria and I had split up. But I recovered.

"No, she got into her second choice, and Raft is an excellent school." I deflected quickly. I was glad that Daria made it into Raft. It was an excellent school, although I didn't apply to it. It was a prestigious university, to those who knew what it was.

"It certainly is." Mom spoke quickly. "I just wish it wasn't so far away. You and Daria won't be seeing each other."

"We don't see each other now. We broke up." I painfully admitted. I might as well have dealt with it now.

"Oh, Tom..." Mom started.

"I'm not upset about it." I lied. "But it's been making me think a lot and I'm actually looking forward to visiting the cove. It would be a nice distraction."

"A distraction from what?" Mom asked. "You said you weren't upset."

"Crap. A rare, but trademark, Kay Sloane snipe." I thought.

"About Bromwell." I had to admit. I hadn't prepared a proper deflection. Mom smiled a knowing smile.

"Oh, Tom, everyone goes through what you're thinking." Mom spoke as if she knew what I was thinking, which was a laugh.

"Yeah, everyone is worried that they are stupid and only get what they want because of funding bribes. Come on, Mom, enlighten us all and show us that the rich are the only people in the world." The dark voice in my head cut her down to size.

"Sweetie, everyone is nervous about starting college." Mom missed the point entirely, exactly as I expected her too. Starting college wasn't scary, it was a blessing. Hours away from this farce of a family, an entire town where no one knew who I was. New friends, the whole of New Town to explore, no, starting college was not as daunting as it seemed.

"Mom, that's not it." I tried to protest, but I realized that I shouldn't continue. Mom wouldn't understand.

"Sweetie, you don't need to put on a tough-guy face. What else could it be about Bromwell?" She asked the question hypothetically, I saw it answered with a bucket list.

"Now, why don't you head on upstairs and get some sleep. And don't fret about Daria, dear, it'll be all right."

I did head upstairs to my room, but only for a moment. When I was sure that Mom had left the hallway and was probably telling the news of the end of my romance to my father, I disappeared from the house. Night had fallen which meant the Zon was open. God, what the hell was wrong with all of them. Didn't the fact that more qualified people like Daria were shunned from attaining the nonsense prestige of Bromwell just because my uncle had donated a wing? The way the world worked angered me, and I needed to be somewhere where I could be no one. Faceless and unknown.

The Zon was crowded. Apparently, this band here was hot stuff. After watching them take the stage, however, I wished they'd give it back. Maybe it was just their image, but this band's music did not justify their following.

"Eugh. Even here, the smell of the pretense." I groaned. Was there any way to avoid this sort of crap?

"Good band?" I heard a familiar voice. I turned around to see Karen.

"Positively awful." I replied. I'm not sure if I wanted to see her again, but the diversion was interesting.

"I thought I was the only one who noticed." She said briefly. "Let's get out of here then."

"You certainly don't beat around the bush."

"I could, but then I'd have to listen to them a little longer. Let's go get something to eat, boy." I smiled. Here was someone who didn't waste time on unnecessary diversions. No posturing, no pretense, no pretty words to disguise herself.

"Like Daria. She didn't care either." My gloomy thoughts sounded, but I pushed them out. I had no time for them. No time for Daria.

The only place I ever ate food in town was at Pizza Palace, but I didn't want to go there. Daria, Jane, or maybe both, would be there. But Karen didn't seem interested in pizza anyway. Or in food. She picked up right where we left off last night. After making our way into an alley, we continued our make-out session. Our lips never stopped, and her hands were busy. I even felt her unzip my pants. But something about it made me stop. I thought this was it: no posture and no pretense. And there wasn't. But there was no connection either. I didn't feel Karen like I felt Jane. Or Daria.

"Stop." I told her. "This is wrong."

"Wrong, boy?" Karen didn't seem to believe me. "You seemed interested before."

"I'm not looking for a cheap thrill." I replied. "I don't just hop in bed with random strangers. I do have some standards." I chuckled inwardly. Didn't I just think I wanted to have no standards.

"You ran off on me yesterday when I run into an old flame, and now you're down my throat the next day as if it never happens. That doesn't bother you?" I asked. Karen said nothing, only looking annoyed that our making out was interrupted with words. I zipped my pants back up. Whatever it was I was looking for, it wasn't this. I wasn't going to turn into some Lothario who bedded and left, feeling nothing. That was a life worse then death.

I ran off, ignoring Karen's virility-related insults. I didn't know what Daria was turning me into, but I'm glad I wasn't going to end up like her.

I'm not sure what convinced me to go with my parents to the Landon's.

"Well it is a party." I thought. "Maybe you're just hungry."

I had only been to the Landon's once before, with Daria, although I had met Jodie several times before. She was an extremely smart girl, just like Daria, but unlike Daria, she was extremely active in school politics and all of that. From my understanding, she had applied to Crestmoore University, an institution as prestigious as Bromwell. I didn't know what happened afterward, but it wouldn't have surprised me if she made it in.

As for Andrew Landon, I found the man was probably just as pretentious, if not more so, then my father. We exchanged all of a few words together, and he certainly enjoyed name dropping and sycophantically sucking up to me, trying to pretend as though he was concerned about my family. To get into Winged Tree? Or was he like that to all rich people? Daria stated once that Mr. Landon was fairly indifferent to her father Jake, and treated him very coldly, although that was hardly fair as the two had met before that one day father and daughter went on a bonding day.

The Landon's were throwing a garden party, and they certainly had a well-manicured lawn. I don't know who it was that proposed this party, but Mr. Landon was definitely taking it seriously.

"Welcome, Sloane family." Andrew greeted us warmly. He had been completely unchanged in the entire year in which I saw him. He was flanked by Jodie and an older woman in a red business suit, who I presumed was Mrs. Landon.

"May I introduce my wife, Michele." Mrs. Landon smiled warmly, but the bored look on her eyes showed me just how annoyed she was with her husband. I liked her immediately.

"And this is my lovely daughter, Jodie." Jodie curtsied respectfully. She seemed less disinterested then her mother, but I had spoken to Jodie before, and I knew just her much she hated this ridiculous farce of a party, but her obligation to her father took precedence.

"Tom, such a pleasure to see you again." Mr. Landon made it a point to address me specifically, as if I couldn't see the put-on.

"Hello, Mr. Landon." I knew how to respond to these types of situations. "The pleasure is all mine. Such a shame we couldn't see each other sooner."

"But you're here now." He spoke like an affectionate uncle, and I suspected that, despite the posture, Mr. Landon had some small bit of genuine friendliness, although even that could be another farce. "And congratulations on your acceptance to Bromwell. A marvelous school."

I pleasantly thanked him, avoiding any mention of talking about Jodie and Crestmoore. There was apparently a huge rivalry between Crestmoore and Bromwell, and there was no sense in getting my father, who used to play college sports, started. He still starched his old Bromwell sweaters.

"Help yourselves to some food and enjoy the party." Mr. Landon and Dad broke off to discuss politics or business, the only two topics Dad even remotely knew, while Mrs. Landon pleasantly took a seat and engaged Mom in a discussion of summer fashions. Another boring party, ones I avoided with a passion.

"Tom, it really is nice to see you again." Jodie dragged me towards a seat while I grabbed a few hors d'oeuvres. Food was perhaps one of the few reason to attend formal affairs.

"Likewise." Now that my parents were gone I could finally dispense with the posturing, although I made sure to sit up straight in case Mom looked our way.

"I'm real sorry about Daria." Jodie seemed regretful. I wasn't sure if she would have known about the breakup; I was clueless how close Daria and Jodie were.

You don't need to be. It's not your fault."

"All the same, it's too bad. You were a really cute couple."

"Thanks. How's that guy you are dating. I don't think I've ever met him." Discussion of Daria was annoying me, and when I saw my opening for a transition, I eagerly jumped on it.

"No, I don't think so. Mack is great. He got accepted into Vance and got a scholarship. I'm glad he did, or he wouldn't have been able to go." My opinion of this Mack immediately raised. Someone who worked and fought tooth and nail just to get to college. An accomplishment well deserved.

"Unlike donating a stupid wing so that all your relatives get a leg up." I thought bitterly.

"And you? Daria mentioned Crestmoore, but I didn't hear the results."

"I got in." Jodie did not seem excited about the news. "But I'm not going there, I'm going to a different school. At least for a year or so."

"That sounds like a story." I probed. There would be nothing worse then my mother, or worse, Mr. Landon, coming over and seeing us not engaging each other. I'd be handcuffed to Mom, or worse, Mr. Landon might force his own conversations on us.

"It is, but Dad said not to discuss it here. He's still privately miffed that he doesn't get to brag about it properly."

"Then let's ditch this party and go get some food with some actual substance." Jodie seemed positively elated by the idea.

"Just follow my lead and I'll get us out of here." Our parents had all regrouped. Now was the time to get away from this place.

"Hey, Mom." I postured my mother, who would be my ally, or pawn, in this. "Jodie and I are thinking of taking a walk. That way you'll be able to talk about us behind our backs." Mom chuckled a little, which meant Mr. Landon immediately followed.

"No chance of that." Mr. Landon returned. "What could we possibly have bad to say about two wonderful young adults."

"Well, dear, as long as your back in two hours." Mom replied. She seemed a little disappointed that I was leaving, but ultimately said nothing to make me stay. Mr. Landon shook my hand like an adult. Dad made absolutely no motions whatsoever. Mrs. Landon nodded to us politely, but her expression stated as if she would have liked to go with us.

It was a good thing that my parents hadn't met the Landon's at their home before, as they let me drive so I could lead them. It was a quick drive over to Pizza Palace, although we made a short pit stop to pick up Jodie's boyfriend. After getting a pie, we grabbed a booth. I couldn't help and think this was how Daria and Jane felt when the one that wasn't my girlfriend tagged along with us. It wasn't as uncomfortable as I thought it to be, although Mack and Jodie were much different from me. I was more lovey-dovey then Mack was.

"So, although my father wanted me to go to Crestmoore, I wanted to be able to take a break from being the perfect little Jodie and not have to worry about impressing everyone." Jodie had told me the entire story about how Crestmoore and Turner University, which I had never heard of before today.

"So, it's about not trying to impress everyone? Not about the family alma mater?" I asked seriously. Jodie would have better insight into my predicament then anyone I knew, although I wondered whether or not her father donated to his alma mater.

"I like the idea that I'm going to the same school my grandmother and father went to, but no, that's not the reason I applied. And what about you, Tom? Many of your family went to Bromwell, right?"

"Yeah." I became dismissive again. So much for the insight.

"Oh, did I say something wrong?" Jodie seemed genuinely regretful, even though she had no reason to be.

"Don't worry about it, you couldn't have known." I covered.

"I know a little. Daria mentioned something about it."

"She did? All she ever told me was that it didn't bother her, though I never believed her."

"Hey, it's not like that. She never said anything about that." I knew exactly what she meant by "that," which of course, meant that Daria did discuss it. I took deep breaths to prevent my rage from boiling over.

"Didn't you graduate salutorian at Fielding. That's an incredible accomplishment." Jodie recovered, speaking faster as if to cover her faux-pas. I felt myself calming down.

"When you consider that it's only because I paid the slightest bit of attention, it becomes hardly an accomplishment. But I guess that is a quality for those admissions people." Jodie chuckled, Mack didn't say a word.

"If you didn't want to go to Bromwell because of your parents, why not apply to different schools?" Jodie asked seriously. That was a very good question, but with a very good reason.

"Because my parents don't think there are any other prestigious universities other than Bromwell. That's why I didn't mention Crestmoore to him. He might have poisoned the cheese cubes when no one was looking." Now both of them got a chuckle. My parents would never have considered a university other then Bromwell for me.

"You really were Daria's boyfriend. That's a snide comment worthy of her." Jodie noted. I said nothing.

"What happened between you two, if you don't mind me asking. You two got along so well. So did you and Jane. They were so much happier when you were around."

"I like Jane, and I like Daria. But our colleges are too far away for that kind of relationship and it just wouldn't work out." I stated the lines like Daria had said, even though I didn't believe them in my heart. What would I have said, that Daria hated me for nepotism and wanted me to go back to a world of horse races and highballs?

"Well, if that's how you both feel, then maybe you're right. But hey, Raft and Bromwell aren't too far apart, and BFAC's right there. You guys could easily make the occasional weekend trip to see each other."

"I don't see Jane waking up early enough to catch the bus. And Daria, well, I doubt she'd exert that kind of effort just to keep in contact with someone." In much of the time Daria and I were together, I was the driving force, not her. She was the most passive girl I had ever dated.

"Hey, you're not giving Daria enough credit. She has a high opinion of you."

"Had one, maybe." I corrected. "After we broke up we've barely seen each other and neither of us have been making the effort. And when we do see each other, we turn those snide comments against each other."

"Why don't you give her a call?" Mack offered. "I haven't heard much from her either, but you were very close to her and she did hold you in regard. Maybe she could use a friendly face." Mack had been silent the entire time, but his one comment struck me closely. He was very decisive, and he spoke precisely when he meant to. I liked him even more.

"Well, maybe I will. But we're leaving for a family vacation tomorrow and we'll be gone all week. Maybe I'll try after that."

"You should." Jodie eagerly jumped on the topic. "I think it's important that people stay in touch with each other, especially if they had the relationship like you and Daria had. And, Tom, you shouldn't worry about Bromwell so much. Didn't you get into every school you applied for?"

"Those were all safeties." I reasoned. If I could get into Bromwell, I could get into the other schools I applied to. I didn't even need to see them. Or even interview with them.

"Even so, the fact that you didn't even get rejected once is an accomplishment. And if it bothers you that much, ask your parents about it. Didn't they have to deal with the same problems?" My mind went blank at Jodie's comments. Maybe she was right. I know much of my family had gone to Bromwell, and who knew, maybe they thought the same things. It would be impossible to ask Dad that sort of question. I had seen his old high school report cards, and he did worse then I did at school. But Mom? She had done very well in school, and wasn't very big on extracurricular activities. Would she understand?

It couldn't hurt to ask.

"So, should we be getting back now?" I asked. Our pizza was finished and over an hour had already passed.

"Yeah, we'll need to drop Mack off at home first anyway." Jodie replied.

"I don't mind stopping by." Mack replied. "That fancy party is probably almost over anyway."

"Alright, if you prefer." Jodie replied. I was surprised by their closeness. They very considerately cared about what the other would want and didn't try to offend each other. I'm sure they weren't perfect, but it was looking on the other side of Daria and me. I bitterly regretted thinking so, but it always seemed like I gave more then I got. It took a lot of patience to deal with Daria, and I reasoned that she was trying to smash our relationship before it could ever get to the point where we could be comfortable with each other. But it had it's great moments, days in the sun that made me feel like King of the World.

We got back into my car and I drove back to the Landon's.

"Thanks for taking me away from my father's preening." Jodie smiled.

"At least the feathers stay shiny." I barbed. Mack chuckled. Mr. Landon seemed to be talking with my father about some sort of crazy invention, while Mrs. Landon and Mom seemed to be engaged with a small child. Jodie identified him as her younger brother, Evan.

"It's as if they didn't even notice we were gone." I noted. "Maybe we should have gotten tattoos."

"Or piercings." Mack noted. Jodie and I rejoined our fathers.

"Tom, there you are." Dad noted. "Mom told me you had left. Shame, Mr. Landon has such excellent stories."

"I've heard a few about Bromwell too, although ones you probably already know." Mr. Landon continued. I grimaced on the inside.

"Sometimes hearing the story from someone else makes it better. Different vantage points." I said, not feeling remotely enthusiastic about Mr. Landon's stories.

"Dear, are you boring the children." Mrs. Landon's voice sounded. She and Mom joined us.

"Oh, Michele." Mr. Landon brushed off his wife's comments.

"We should be going, we have an early start tomorrow." Mom noted.

"Enjoy your vacation." Mr. Landon replied. "Thank you so much for coming. Please, come back anytime."

"This was truly a delightful afternoon, Andrew." Mom shook his hand. "I'm sure the board would love to know what a pleasure it has been."

"It takes them eons to say goodbye." I groaned in thought. "Ever hear of 'okay, thanks.' Try it sometime. You'd have more time for exploiting third-world markets, Dad." Dad and Mom started to walk to the car, Mr. Landon following them, sucking up every step of the way.

"Tom, was it?" Mrs. Landon, now that we were alone, spoke to me. When did Jodie and Mack disappear?

"Good evening, Mrs. Landon." Mrs. Landon was by far the most polite person here, and I could stomach the pretense for a moment if it meant she enjoyed it.

"Thanks for taking Jodie out. The last thing she needs to see are grown men with severe penis envy posturing themselves for handouts." Mrs. Landon's bluntness, and how much her thoughts mimicked my own, caused me to laugh.

"My pleasure. It was nice to see her again."

"Oh, don't thank me."

"Oh, well." Mrs. Landon looked as though she had something she wanted to tell me, so I waited.

"Your mother is very proud of you." She got out.

"I take it you've exchanged stories about us kids." I replied. It seemed Mom was talking about me to Mrs. Landon.

"Put two mothers together and that's all they'll do is brag about their kids." Mrs. Landon chuckled. "It's only natural for them to talk, brag, and worry about them."

"Oh, so she's told you different stories, huh?" Brag was a good sign, at least they were talking good things. But worry was something else. Yeah, I figured Mom was worried about me. Parents always fretted over the stupidest things. Every skinned knee I got as a kid was like the apocalypse.

"Don't worry about it. Women gossip, and mothers talk about children, particularly when their trying to ignore their pretentious husbands. But go easy on her."

I never imagined I'd have such an adult conversation at 18. But as I drove back home, I reasoned that perhaps I was being too harsh thinking about Mom. Perhaps she was better then I gave her credit for.

When I was a kid, I really enjoyed trips to the cove, just like any other kid enjoyed a day at the beach. As I got older, the place became less of a retreat and more of a painful obligation. Aunt Mildred was definitely pleasant, but she was the epitome of old money and pretentious snobbery. Never worked a day in her life, and didn't intend to anytime soon. Any conversation with her was akin to walking on razor blades barefoot.

As if that wasn't bad enough, my Rustmobile would have never made the four hour trek up there. So the entire family Sloane all had to pile into one car and make the long journey. Under normal circumstances, I would never have allowed Elsie to sit that close to me for such an extended period of time, not to mention the boredom of sitting in the car for so long.

My father never conversed when he was driving, and Mom preferred to take in the scenery. Elsie ignored me, and I was thankful. I may have been stuck in a car with my family, but at least we could ignore each other, although I never understood why we went to the cove to do that. That's all we did at home.

"Hello, Angier, Kay." Aunt Mildred greeted us.

"Hello, Aunt Mildred." Mom smiled at her.

"And how are my little Tom and Elsie?" She turned towards us. She looked the exact same as I had always known her, wearing so much makeup to disguise her age.

"She needs an excavation crew to get ready for bed." I sniped to myself. I remember commenting on that to Daria. I don't remember her response to it, but I remember it had something to do with Cleopatra.

"Hi, Aunt Mildred." I replied. She was actually my mother's aunt, but she always seemed to get upset if I called her Great Aunt Mildred. Probably another desperate bid to stay young, although she missed that wagon about 50 years ago. I hauled my suitcase into my room and started to unpack, taking my time so as to occupy myself and avoid the dreaded family time.

"Tom." As I exited my room, I was greeted by my uncle Sebastian, my dad's younger brother. When I was younger, I always thought it was strange that both my mother and my father's family would come up to the cove, but the house was certainly big enough, and Mom's family and Dad's were really close.

"Are you ready for a rematch?" He smiled. My uncle and I often played checkers, chess, and other games of skill. I had been beating everyone else in my family ever since I was 10, and he was the only one who could match me now. It was the only sort of fun to be had at the cove.

"You're on." I smiled. No one would interrupt me during such family time except for Elsie, and she was easy enough to blow off.

Uncle Sebastian decided on chess, which was fine with me. I had a harder time winning as chess then I did at checkers, and that meant I'd have to work harder to win, not to mention a longer game meant more time away from the family. The game continued, family members stopping by to watch us every so often. Uncle Sebastian would acknowledge them, I stared solely at the board. Only Mom acknowledged me directly.

"Tom, it looks like you're doing well."

"Hi, Mom." I continued to look at the board.

"How is the game going?" She asked. She knew nothing about the game of chess.

"I will win in four turns." I replied. There was no way I could win or lose in that few turns, but the last time we played chess, Mom distracted me and I gave away my strategy, causing me to lose.

"Alright, dear. Just let me know when you're done." Mom disappeared, and I returned to the game.

"I guess things aren't going well at home." My uncle told me once we were alone. If I didn't know better, I would think he was distracting me from the game. But no, Uncle Sebastian often prodded this way.

"We have a game to play." I responded tersely, taking one of his rooks. Uncle Sebastian was more tolerable then Dad, but not by much. He still went to Bromwell, and still donated to the school, although it was Edgar, my dad's older brother, who donated the wing. He couldn't help with my problems.

"You're losing your touch. Check. That move was basic." He casually insulted. 'Basic' was a put down worthy of Daria when it came to my chess playing, although she and I never played a game together.

"Things are going just fine at home." I answered his statement. "Mom plans some family activity, Dad blows it off for work, Elsie ducks out, I don't see the point because half the family's gone, so Mom goes to the gallery board, where they all beg for her approval. She plans some big event to get us all to come there, so we can avoid each other in public. And then I still don't go because it misses the entire point."

"What does your father and sister have to do with you." My uncle asked. Nothing, I admitted silently. The art shows, and balls, and all that fancy crap I had a pathological reason to avoid, but not the small, silent things.

"Family outings without a family?" I returned. I had gotten out of check and set myself up for a queen sacrifice, a tactic I had never before employed on Uncle Sebastian. He saw through it.

"You're too obvious, Tom." He told me. "Looks like I'm going to win again." He set up a clever maneuver, a move I almost never saw coming. Too busy was I with the queen sacrifice, I never saw his move.

"That's mate." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'll do better next time."

"Clever, Tom, you'll win next time if you keep getting better." Sebastian praised.

After the chess match, I decided to take a walk on the beach. I did like that private beach, even now, as an adult. The sand was always warm, the sound of the waves was calming, it was perfectly serene. I always did love the peace of nature, probably the reason why I so enjoyed camping. When things were quiet, I often found my mind drifting to Daria, Jane, or Bromwell. But here, I could have no thoughts, everything was somewhere else.

I took my sneakers and socks off and started to walk down towards the water, straying far away enough to not get my pant cuffs wet.

"Maybe Jodie's right. Maybe I am just thinking too hard about things. God knows ever since the breakup I've been doing nothing but that." I allowed my thoughts to wander. I didn't think about this crap at all before the breakup, and that seemed like an entire world ago.

"Maybe I could at least talk to Daria. Give her a ring, see how she is."We said we'd keep in touch, and God knows things can't get worse between us. I'll just let any of her snipes roll off me. I'd dealt with worse from her before, back when Jane and I first started to get to know each other. And without a shot of whiskey, I'd probably have more patience.

"Tom! There you are." I heard a voice call to me. It was my mother, and I realized that I had completely forgotten what she said during the chess game. Not that it surprised me. When I focused on the game, I couldn't remember anything else. But Mom would know that, I think.

"Oh, hi, Mom." I played dumb, a brutally effective strategy.

"Tom, do you think you could make it to gala we're throwing Fourth of July weekend?" She asked pleasantly, just as she did whenever she asked me to an event. I still don't know why, for the life of me, why she persisted in trying to get me to come to these events. I never attended when she asked.

"The gallery is throwing a party to help raise money for a new gallery for paintings. It'd be lovely if you could attend." Mom informed. It seemed that the gallery was always trying to raise money. Why didn't the rich folks just donate? Or did that require friendly support. They were patronizers of the arts, not patrons. At least that's what Jane said.

"Don't people usually come with dates for that?" I strategically reminded my mother that I was single at the moment.

"Tom, you're not buying tickets." Mom replied.

"Anyway, I strongly doubt it. There wouldn't be much for me to do there, and I'd probably just screw up and say something is impressionist when it's really cubist and completely mortify you." I was joking, but I said my denial in a completely serious tone.

"Tom, that would never happen."

"The mortified part or the mixing up the genres part?" I continued to joke, but my mother was serious.

"Both of them. Tom, please reconsider. Ever since you broke up with Daria, you've been moody and we..."

"We never see each other." Mom's broken record had been annoying me. I normally would never interrupt her.

"Tom, this is our last summer together before you go to Bromwell." Mom pleaded. "Can't we at least spend some time together?"

"Isn't that what the cove is for?" I asked. "And hey, we can't have family together time without the family. Or has Dad forgotten that I'm going to college?"

"Tom!" Mom was genuinely shocked with my tone, I even shocked myself with how harsh I was being.

"Mom, let's face it, Dad isn't exactly the most involved person. I've gone almost two months without even speaking to him, and seeing him is basically passing glimpses in the hallway. I've counted, I know."

"Tom, you know he has obligations."

"Yes, Mom, I do. He has his obligations to the firm, you have yours to the gallery and to the country club. I'm fine with that, I've been fine with that for a long time now. But Dad is the same completely distant person I've known since I was a kid. He's not interested in spending time with me before college starts. I could drop off the Earth and he wouldn't notice."

"Tom!" Mom was surprised at my scathing remarks.

"Mom, when we're all together, all we do is ignore each other. Dad finds the nearest casual acquaintance and drills them on politics so he doesn't have to be seen with us. You make your rounds to make sure all the guests are having a good time like a good host. Elsie hits on all the men with cars so they can take her for a ride. And when we're together, Elsie makes sour comments which upsets Dad, those two argue, you mediate, and I disappear." Mom seemed depressed that I mentioned that, and I briefly thought of backpedaling. But I couldn't. Not because I didn't want to make her feel better, but because I honestly didn't know what to say.

"Tom, you asshole." I thought to myself, the accusation Mom would never say. "Why'd you have to go and say something like that. This is exactly what Mrs. Landon told you not to do."

"I can't help it if we aren't as close as we are." Mom replied. "We all have our lives, Tom, and we try to live up to those obligations as best as we can."

"Mom." I stopped thinking. "Those galas, and parties, and all those events bore me to tears. I hate going to them because the people are bland and insipid, and whenever I see you there, you've always got that look on your face that tells me you know I'm bored. At least when I'm not there, you don't have to worry about that." This the truth, as nicely as I could figure it.

"Look, I'm going to go." I noted. I dashed off back to the house.

When I reached the house again, I realized that now was the time to call Daria. Mom wouldn't tell anyone about our argument, except for maybe Dad, and he wouldn't care. I can't remember the last time my father lectured me. After all, it would take too much time away from work. I needed to contact someone whose opinion I respected, and, unlike Jane, someone who conflicted enough with their parents.

"Hello?" Daria answered the phone, to my surprise. Typically, Quinn was the one who usually answered all of the calls.

"Hello, Daria."

"Is this Tom?" She asked.

"Yes. How are you?"

"Eh, I'm fine. Applying for scholarships and the like. Mom seems to think it matters."

"Hey, at least she's not sending you to that stupid camp like she did last year."

"Don't remind me." Daria noted. "Are you at the cove?"

"Yeah, how you'd know?"

"You always go to the cove this week."

"Good point. Listen, I wanted to ask you something." I briefly thought of relaying my problems with my mother, but I bit my tongue. I knew I couldn't ignore how we last left ourselves.

"Hey, Daria, I wanted to talk about a couple of weeks ago." There was silence on her end. What that meant, I couldn't tell.

"Listen, about Karen, I don't want you to worry about her or anything."

"I'm not worried." Daria's voice sounded in the same monotone. "It's good that you're dating again."

"Daria, we might be on the phone, but I can tell when you're lying." I noted. As if our previous meeting hadn't given it away, Daria was pretty bad at lying to me.

"I'm not planning on dating her, so don't worry about me rushing off and doing something stupid."

"Good. You're plenty capable of stupid things on your own." An insult, but I let it pass off.

"We all make mistakes. I just didn't want some grope-fest to get in the way of our friendship." I informed.

"A grope-fest got us into our relationship." She reminded.

"Yeah, but that time I wasn't tipsy." I non-seriously defended. I was surprised by how calm I was speaking to Daria. I may have only had one drink, but maybe booze and I were not meant to be friends.

"Tom, don't worry about it. You made out with someone, I happened to be there. If we were dating, it would have been a problem, but we weren't, so it's not."

"And I suppose we'll just ignore the sniping then, huh?" I noted. I was still pretty miffed at her. Daria didn't answer that.

"Daria?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, we should." She replied. I knew she was lying again.

"Hey, if you're still angry about it..."

"Are you?" She reversed. I admitted, I was still pretty mad at her.

"I'm over it." I lied. I didn't want to let this get between us. Not now, when I wasn't certain whether or not Daria wanted to go for pizza or rip my face off.

"I am too." Daria lied too.

"Daria, I know that's not true." I challenged.

"Likewise." She quickly sniped.

"Damn." I thought.

"Look, Daria, I just went out and met a girl I thought was fun. It wasn't going to work out because she was too aggressive."

"Yeah, you love making the first move, don't you."

"Hey!" I growled. "I don't recall you complaining." I hated when Daria blamed me for the kiss in the car. I already blamed myself for it, I wasn't about to have her, another guilty party, compound it on me. There was silence on Daria's end of the phone.

"Look, Daria, I think maybe we should get together and talk." I proposed. "I think we really need to dig up a lot of things before we go to college."

"Is this some kind of come-on."

"I'm better at come-ons then that, and no. I don't want to date you again."

"Isn't that a pleasant thing to say." Daria noted.

"You wanted me to say that I wanted to get back together?" I accused.

"Tom, I think we probably shouldn't. It's too early."

"Daria, all we do is fight. I at least want to be on good speaking terms if we're going to stay friends." I tried to be conciliatory.

"Maybe some other time." Daria replied. I grew incensed. This was just like much of the time when we were dating. I tried and tried, and she would just blew me off.

"Screw you, Daria!" I angrily slammed the phone. I huffed angrily. Thankfully, there was a phone in my room, so that no one was around to hear me. Except, of course, perhaps one eavesdropper. But I looked outside of the door and Elsie was nowhere to be found. I laid back on the bed wishing the week would go faster. Even consistent chess tournaments couldn't end this horrible week from Hell quickly enough.

"Stupid Daria." I angrily cursed in my mind. "Stupid Mom. Stupid Aunt Mildred and this stupid house." I laid back down on my bed, and let my eyes shut.

"Stupid Tom." I thought as a tear formed out of the corner of my eye.

Although the extended family came together for the weekend as planned, and I had brief associations with all of them, my immediate family and I avoided each other like the Plague. Not that Elsie would have ever spoken to me unless she wanted to taunt me or she wanted something. Mom was quietly avoiding me, which she did whenever she was upset. I did feel bad over what I told her, especially since I never got to talk to her about Bromwell and academic standards, but I was getting sick of the parties and the balls and all that crap. If she could once just be a simple mother, who did normal things mothers did with their children, then I would have been satisfied. But it was all about the creme de la creme with her. Why she felt the need to impress me with clout was something I never understood.

My interaction with my father was limited to a game of checkers, although that was an accomplishment considering he actually spoke to me to ask. I beat him within 10 minutes, and we didn't speak a word to each other while we played. No lectures, no talks about what I said to Mom, nothing. I wonder if he even knew.

My boredom reached the point where when I learned we were leaving, I privately started dancing for joy. I thanked all of my family in the stuck-up, mind-numbingly pretentious way that would have made Mr. Landon proud, and we piled back into the car on the way back home. The ride back was as eventful as the ride up, and I nearly ran back into the house so that I could discover if there were any messages. Not that I had expected Daria to call; she would have known I would be at the cove and would have called there anyway. But maybe Jane, or a friend from Fielding, would have called.

To my luck, though, I had no love at all. All messages were for Mom about that 4th of July gala. At least we had arrived home late in the afternoon, so after a quick shower, I'd be ready for a night at the Zon.

"Why do you always go out dressed like that?" A voice, Elsie's sounded from my bedroom door.

"To flirt my way out of speeding tickets and get guys to buy me drinks. Oh wait, that's you. Learn to knock." I insulted while combing my hair, paying no attention to Elsie.

"Meeting that misery chick again?"

"Get out before I throw you out." I turned around. God, what the hell was her problem? It was bad enough I was dealing with Daria and Bromwell, Elsie was just an unnecessary piece of the puzzle. As if satisfied with her victory of making me angry, she left. Just as I left, I grabbed the phone to see if Brandon wanted to join me. But no, there was no answer.

"I really don't have many friends, do I?" I thought privately. Not that I had many at Fielding. Like the mindless Kevin and Brittany from Daria's school, most of the people at Fielding were mindless husks, creatures spawned from old money who could think of nothing more then formal debuts, summers in some European country, horseback riding, and all the other formal affairs that my mother seemed to enjoy. There were those who actually wanted to learn at Fielding, of course, but they were still ivory tower eggheads, cooped up in a world of books. I had tried that once, but it was too dull. I didn't have to work very hard to do well at school, which caused all the smart kids to hate me.

"Work twice as hard to be half as good." I remembered a former girlfriend told me when she broke up with me. She was one of those bookworms.

"Why must you love the smart ones?" I thought as I headed out the door.

The Zon was packed tonight. Spiral wasn't playing, and neither were the Harpies. This band was definitely not as alternative as the Zon's normal gigs. Calling themselves Naked Roses, they were mere posers, former high school glee clubbers pretending to be alternative, then an actual band with actual talent. Spiral could play circles around these guys.

"If this is the future of music, I'm out." I thought. This crowd was also completely dull. Like the band itself, it was a bunch of kids slightly younger then me, pretending this was an alternative venue. I nearly left immediately, but I had nothing better to do. At least until the first set ended. Once it did, though, I decided I should leave before I got a migraine.

"Okay, it's time to get out of here." I turned to leave. The second set was never as good as the first, and the first was absolutely awful. As I walked towards the door, I saw a familiar face; one I never thought I would see at a venue like this. With long red hair and a pink shirt, Quinn Morgendorffer would never been seen at a true alternative venue. She liked those mindless boy bands like Boys 2 Guys, a silly trite little pop band who fit Quinn, who was just as trite and dilettantish, perfectly.

She was too close to the door, so I decided to duck towards the bathroom. I wasn't sure if Quinn knew anything about the breakup. Daria never told her anything. Even if she did, Quinn and I had exchanged all of twenty words together in the months Daria and I went out, and I had no desire to strike up a friendship with the girl who only cared about eye shadow and the fiber content of clothes.

"Tom?" I heard her voice call to me.

"God, I just have the worst luck ever." I cursed.

"Hello, Quinn." I had no need to act polite around Quinn. Like Mom to Jane, Quinn had been fairly cordial to me, but that was it. I had no interest in learning the secrets of mascara and fashion, and she had no interest in political structures. I merely passed by her on my way to Daria's room, and that suited me just fine.

"I didn't know you liked this band." She noted.

"Why are you talking to me? You don't associate with anything remotely related to Daria, and that includes her ex." I thought.

"I don't." I replied. "It's so painful to listen to I'm about to shove my hand into a fire and leave it there for about three hours."

"Oh. Yeah." Quinn, surprisingly, agreed with me.

"Okay, now I'm certain you've gone insane." I thought.

"I came here with my date tonight because I heard this band was really good, but he left me!" Quinn whined. "Hey, can I get a ride home with you?"

"Before: Insane. Now: Batshit loco." I thought.

"Uh, Quinn, you are aware I'm your sister's ex." I didn't know if she knew or not, but it might as well have been brought out now.

"What differences does that make?" Quinn asked. "C'mon please." I frowned. Taking Quinn home meant I had the chance to run into Daria, and I knew exactly what would happen if that happened.

But Naked Roses started returning to the stage for the second set.

"All right." I relented.

At least Quinn wasn't talking about fashion in the car. Although she had some complaints about the Rustmobile when she saw it, she shut up when I told her she could just stay at the Zon. The trip to Daria's house was about 20 minutes, and the first half was spent in silence. I was comfortable with the silence, but Quinn seemed a bit antsy. But she was used to being the center of attention.

"Hey, Tom, can I ask you something?" She asked. I had absolutely no idea where this would go. She knew about the breakup because I had mentioned it, and I sincerely hoped that it wouldn't ask me about it. Quinn was odd; most of the time she was ambivalent or dismissive about Daria, but she had rare caring sisterly moments.

"What is it?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the road.

"Can I ask you a favor?" She posed another question.

"I can't get you a keg, I'm not old enough."

"It's not that."

"I won't buy you cigarettes either." What else could she want me for? Why couldn't she just remain quiet?

"Tom! I don't smoke!" She whined. "I want to ask you to tutor me?"

"What the hell?" I thought.

"Tutor?" I asked. "Why would you want me to do that?"

"Tom, please." Quinn insisted. "The Fashion Club broke up and I'm trying to figure out what to do with all this free time. I've tried to do something better then fashion and stuff but I don't know anything else and you're the only smart person I know besides Daria and she won't do it." Quinn started to babble.

"Well, thanks. But I don't think I'm the person you should be asking. I'm your older sister's ex-boyfriend, remember." I could imagine nothing but problems from that arrangement.

"But I really need someone to do this. Stacy's been doing photography and Sandi's been trying to run a dating service for the high school and I can't let them beat me because I know I can do much better then them, but I'm trying and trying and I can't figure out what I'm good at."

My mind started to pore through the possibilities. I had no reason to believe that Quinn wasn't genuine in her desire for a tutor. Last summer, she had gotten one, and in the time I had known Quinn, I had know, or rather, Daria had mentioned, that Quinn seemed to be trying to better herself.

But what would Daria think? Would it anger her? Doubtful, perhaps. Daria wouldn't even know. But part of me thought I might be playing with fire. Daria might think it was some sort of convoluted plot, and, despite all our fights, I didn't want her thinking those horrible things about me.

But I didn't want to say no. Quinn was desperate, and the fact that she would ask her sister's ex meant she really wanted it. Although I could see problems and nothing else from the arrangement, turning down Quinn would devastate her. I didn't want that responsibility.

"I'll consider it." I responded as I pulled into the Morgendorffer driveway. I could think of a better way to turn her down later.

"Please." Quinn asked.

"Doesn't your family usually give bribes for these things?" I teased, expecting a denial.

"Alright, fine, I'll give you twenty." Quinn pleaded. "Come on in so I can get it." She invited me in and dashed upstairs. I took a seat on the sofa.

"Tom?" I heard Daria's voice.

"Hey, Daria." I responded to her coldly. I wasn't about let her see me as angry as I was at the cove, but I wasn't about to let her see me smile, and let her know I was glad to see her looking well.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was at the Zon, some crappy band was playing, and I thought of you."

"What?"

"I ran into Quinn and she asked me to take her home." I noted, stressing the fact that I wasn't here to see her.

"Okay, but why are you in the house?"

"I was looking for valuable knick-knacks to steal. Your father finds some really kooky stuff that would look just great on my shelves." I joked. Daria stared at me.

"Quinn's getting something to bribe me with." I returned.

"Bribe? You already took her home." She stated.

"Clearly, that has nothing to do with what's she's bribing me with, then." I ignored her questions. Her opinion on the matter wasn't going to make me being here any less awkward.

"Listen, though, since I'm here, I wanted to apologize for snapping at you on the phone." I recalled our argument about the cove. It had been on my mind ever since I fought with her.

"Forget about it." Daria replied. "You were just upset. The cove is not much of a vacation."

"It would be if everyone else in my family decided not to go, but then it would be kind of uneventful."

"Like I said, vacation." Daria returned. She made no inclination about anything else I had discussed. Perhaps I should have been thankful that we were not fighting, or maybe she was waiting for me to be even more conciliatory.

"Hey, Daria, I was thinking. Maybe you, Jane, Trent, and I could all go for pizza one of these days. You know, as friends." I proposed.

"Another time. I've got a lot of scholarships to apply for. Big scholarships." Daria dismissed me again. I tried to keep my composure.

"Daria, I know you only ever talk like that when you're making an excuse."

"You've been having plenty of fun already, there's no need to make an already uncomfortable situation any more weird." Daria returned. I could feel my anger rising; I tried to keep myself under control, but was losing my focus quickly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. "You're the one who said just being friends was a good idea. Dammit, Daria, can't we start acting like friends and less like exes." Daria didn't answer.

"Look, Daria, I'm getting kind of sick of this. Ever since we've broken up all you ever do is treat me like you did when we first met. I'm not going to be your whipping boy." I delivered. I was pretty damn sick of her attitude as of late. I was trying to move past the heartache she was causing, but she sure wasn't making things easy.

"I'm not treating you like a whipping boy. I wanted some time to sort everything out. We can't all be as perfect as you with your Bromwell acceptance and your country club parties and your whole elitist world."

"It's not..."

"...your world. You deny it, but it is. You offer to let the scullery maid into the big leagues with your recommendation and don't care about her own merits. What she gets on her own." I knew Daria held anger for me about this. She had mentioned it before. Was she still hung up on this?

"When did I ever say that Raft was a bad school?" I demanded. It was true. Not once in our conversation did I ever tell her Raft was sub-par.

"You weren't at all excited about it."

"I was surprised that you didn't make it to Bromwell." I defended. "But this isn't about Bromwell or Raft or my reaction to anything. this is about the rejection, isn't it." I immediately turned the tables and told her what I always suspected was the real reason behind our breakup.

"What?" Daria was both surprised and angry. I pushed on. I knew I was playing with fire, but this was the truth; I could feel it.

"That's why you're so angry, and that's why you're taking it out on me. Because they rejected you. You, Daria Morgendorffer, who spent her life rejecting others because they weren't up to her standards, had a taste of her own medicine. You wanted something, and you didn't get it. You were told you weren't good enough. And it hurt, it hurt like hell. And I sympathized, Daria. Dammit, I cared! I did what I could to help you. It might not have worked, but I gave it all I could." Daria did not speak, but her face told me much. She scowled at me, angry that I had mentioned it, but I could see the fear in her eyes. She was afraid that I had discovered something she didn't want me to know.

"And when it doesn't work out, you blame me, because I passed it. I succeeded when you failed, and you wanted to blame my name for it, because I sure as hell chose to be born a Sloane!" I was irate, forceful, although not shouting.

"Maybe not, but you're not above using it. Face it, Tom, for all your talk about not wanting to be from your elitist world, you certainly love it's perks. You go to your private beach and your fund-raises and when something doesn't work out, you think your name can somehow make things all better."

"We've been over this, Daria. I thought it might help, that's all. My world is not elitist."

"Don't tell me that." Daria replied. "Tell the person who proposed writing a recommendation to me since the name was all he had over me. Tell it to the person who talks about disliking his whole elitist world, but not enough to go home to his palace every night, eat food prepared by private chefs, and can retreat to his private woods. " Daria's words cut into me like a knife, cutting me to the point where I flinched.

"Am I supposed to be lectured by someone who blames me for her failures?" I nearly lost it as I condemned her.

"Is it better then being lectured by a hypocrite?" Daria returned.

"You know something, I think we finally see eye to eye, Daria." I realized. "Tell Quinn I had to leave." I stormed out in a huff. For one split second, I almost turned around to apologize. But I walked out the door.

I drove aggressively during the ride home. Once I reached the house I collapsed on the bed. I could barely think right now. A dark, bitter fury welled in my heart, a voice whispered dark thoughts in my head. I took deep breaths and stared at the ceiling. Daria's words hurt me a lot more then I would have admitted, even were the two of us together. I did come home to this gilded cage every night. All the misery I may have felt here was meaningless when compared to the true suffering other people endured, I knew that. But that was no excuse for Daria, who blamed me for her failure at Bromwell. Not to mention it was completely unrelated to our argument. How could I let Daria side-track me like that?

The phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. The Morgendorffer's.

"What the hell? Did Daria call to apologize?" I didn't know what to do, I stared at the phone for four rings. What would I say? What should I say?

"Hello?" I picked up. I didn't want to miss this. My heart raced in excitement.

"Hey, Tom, it's Quinn." The other Morgendorffer sister answered the phone.

"Oh, hello. Sorry I had to leave like that." I was surprised that I could compose myself so quickly.

"It's no big deal. I heard you and Daria fighting, and I wasn't going to interrupt." For all of Quinn's confidence, she seemed almost timid when she mentioned our fight, as if she wanted to disappear as soon as she heard about it.

"Tom, can I still ask you to tutor me?" She asked. I considered the question, now more seriously than before.

"You know if I said yes, I wouldn't be able to tutor you at your house." I noted.

"It doesn't matter. I really need this." She begged. Now I considered this very seriously. I felt a wave of compassion creep over me. Here was Quinn, fashionista to the extreme, trying desperately to become better and be a person with her own mind. She didn't want to be defined by her past, even to the point where she'd consider a person who, just hours ago, was fighting in her living room with her sister. That took guts, and a heavy duty of desperation. But then my thoughts drifted back to Daria.

"What would she think?" I thought to myself. Daria's opinion, despite all of our fights, still mattered to me. It still hurt me. Would she try to put a stop to things, and make freaky accusations, like Jane did before Daria and I went out? I didn't know what to think for a moment. Soon after I considered that, I considered a darker thought. Daria thought I was worthless, using my name rather then my talents to succeed. So if I made Quinn a success, not only would it prove to Daria that I was right, but Quinn would be her mantle of shame. Daria's very own sister sought out her ex because of his brains. It would devastate her.

I didn't want that to be my sole motivation, and I tried to blot it from my thoughts. Then I realized Quinn was still on the phone.

"Monday and Thursday." I told her. "Two hour lessons, 1 to 3. We'll meet at the library."

And that was my life for an entire month. I had been avoiding Daria, made no effort to contact her. I didn't even call Jane, even though I wanted to. I did not want to keep fighting, and arguing, and I was worried that Jane might get drawn into the mix. I didn't want to involve her anymore then Daria would be telling her. I couldn't deal with both girls.

Home was no haven. Elsie had been sneaking out and probably doing more things as of late, while Mom planned event after event at the club. I turned down any invitations she sent my way.

"You know, if you concentrated as much of your efforts on trying to figure out what we could enjoy as a family as you do on those stupid events, we'd be the perfect family." I thought when I blew off an exhibit of Renoir. I remember once I had proposed that Mom use the gallery as a venue for local artists, like Jane, but that one was shot down extremely quickly. After that, I never offered my input to her about gallery functions again, and neither did I go to any.

The only thing that was different about my life was tutoring, and probably the only thing that kept me sane. I had done tutoring a few times before. I could never do it at home; who knew what hell Elsie would try to pull. And there would be no way we'd have peace at Daria's house, not to mention how awkward it would be to explain to Helen Morgendorffer what her daughter's ex was doing tutoring her other daughter. It was a conversation best left avoided.

So that left the library. Fielding had a different curriculum then Lawndale High, but I knew what Daria had studied during our time together, and Quinn would probably have a watered-down version of whatever it was that she had. American History would be where we started.

I picked up a few books. I loved history; it was my best subject, although I often found myself fascinated by it's great soldiers, leaders, those who convinced others to fight and die for their cause. That would make an excellent first lesson.

Quinn was on time, which made be thankful. Part of me wondered whether or not this was just some stray idea that flitted into her mind, and she'd be back to the makeup counters by late afternoon. But she came with notebooks and her list of classes, so I knew exactly what I'd need to concentrate on.

"The Civil War." I started. "You're taking American history, and I doubt that it won't cover the Civil War. But before we begin, I have two rules. One, don't be late. Two, we only discuss the lessons." I laid down some ground rules. I might have been bored as hell, but I wasn't about to get sidetracked. This was important; that's what I told myself. It had nothing to do with Daria. So I said to myself.

After a few tutoring sessions, I found it was pretty clear that whatever it was Quinn needed, it wasn't a tutor. Quinn was not as smart as her sister, but she was definitely bright, and it seemed whatever failings she did at school were her own effort rather then a lack of talent. I had no idea how to explain this to Quinn, though. She applied herself to every lesson as if the lesson itself was the challenge, and she couldn't see anything else.

"Hey, Quinn, we've been having several sessions now." I had told her the fifth week on our lessons. We needed a different type of lesson today.

"Yeah, I know. I can't believe it's been a whole month." Quinn missed the point.

"That's not what I meant." I replied. "I mean, when we started tutoring, you told me you wanted to discover what it is makes you tick. So, tell me, which lessons have you been enjoying?" Quinn pressed her pencil against her face, and pondered the question.

"I don't know." She replied. "I was trying to learn." What a strange answer, I thought, especially considering what it was that Quinn wanted to gain.

"Quinn, you've displayed pretty good talent in pretty much all the areas. Which one did you like doing?" I reworded my question, but Quinn again answered with confusion. I had asked this question three times before today, but each time was more and more confusion.

"Quinn, I don't think much more tutoring will benefit you." Quinn's eyes widened, almost in horror, as I told her this.

"But I need to know stuff." Her words were a plea.

"You already know stuff." I explained. "I've been feeding you dates, names, wars, and all that. You've learned it all and shown me you can even understand the motivations behind it. But why did you think you needed a tutor?"

"So I do something that isn't fashion. I mean, I went to Headshots where Stacy works and she's got pictures in the window now, and even Jeffy makes all that money doing those little shows. And I need to be a success, I need to be good at something. "

"Shows?" I asked. That gave me an idea.

"Quinn, these friends of yours. Why don't you take me to them? There's something I need to see." I shut the books. Quinn seemed lost, but she listened to me, and we piled in my car.

I knew this place where Quinn's friend worked. Headshots was a glamor photography store; I had gotten my passport photo taken there. When I saw the photos in the window, I was taken aback. They truly did look like modeling shots seen in the few fashion magazines I had seen before. Which ones were taken by Quinn's friend?

"Hey, Quinn!" A voice sounded from the desk, which was probably her friend Stacy. The girl who answered was a short, brunette haired girl with pigtails and a sweet temperament.

"Stacy!" Quinn seemed happy to see her. "I came to see you." Stacy seemed positively overjoyed to see her friend.

"Stacy, this is Tom. He's a....family friend." I don't think I ever met Quinn's friends except in passing, so they probably wouldn't have known who I was. Why didn't Quinn refer to me as her tutor, I wondered. She was desperate enough to retain me. I mentally considered that as next week's lesson.

"Quinn tells me you do photography here, and the little diva in me decided I needed some shots done. So, of course, the only one who could do it was her friend." I delivered flatly. Normally, I wouldn't be caught dead doing something like this, but this was the best way for me to show Quinn the real lesson she wanted to learn.

"Sure!" Stacy brought me over to the booth where the pictures were taken. Quinn stood back to watch.

"Ummm...what background would you like?" Stacy asked me pleasantly.

"You tell me, what would look best?" I reversed the question. Stacy seemed confused by my query.

"These are glamor shots, right? So it's just like modeling? The photographer directs, the model obeys. So tell me, how should I pose?" I asked Stacy probing questions, using what little I knew about modeling. Stacy paused, clearly unsure of what to do. Before she could get any words out, another employee, an older, more abrasive man, came out.

"Rowe, are you holding up business again?" He was quite rude to Stacy, and then turned his attentions to me.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with such a junior associate. I'm Steve, and I'll be your photographer. What types of shots would you like to take today?" I looked past him at Stacy, who was starting to whimper, and Quinn, who seemed offended at Steve's behavior.

"Well, we were just about to get started. I wanted to get a nice picture for my girlfriend, so my friend and I came to visit her friend, who has pictures in the window, apparently."

"Who, Rowe?" Steve was dismissive of her, and I wondered why Stacy, who was still standing close by and could hear us, did not chime in. "Don't mind her, we all get lucky shots. But you don't have to worry, sir, I've got more experience with shots then her, and I know exactly what kind of shots you need. But what's the occasion? Birthday, anniversary, help me out here." Steve was slick and his voice sucked me in. Stacy was looking at him in awe, despite his rudeness to her. Quinn still looked offended.

"It's our anniversary."

"What does she like."

"She's a bit of a bookworm, likes the classics. Antiquities and whatnot." Now I was starting to get nervous. I hadn't planned my lies out that far in advance. The only person I could think of right now was Daria.

"So your classic goddess, eh?" Steve probably had no idea I was going to say that, but he continued along. "Why not get a shot of yourself posing like the statue of Apollo. She'd get the reference and would love it. Guaranteed."

"I wouldn't have to be naked, would I?" I stalled for time, trying to get either Quinn or Stacy to interrupt.

"Nah, you and her can do that later." Steve joked.

"Hang on just a minute, I need to get my friend here." I broke away from Steve and rejoined Quinn and Stacy. Stacy seemed really upset, and Quinn was trying to cheer her up.

"What's wrong, Stacy. You just let someone poach your customer." I asked her. Stacy clammed up, trying to answer my question, but it seemed as though she couldn't form the words, and all she got out was more whimpering.

"Stacy!" Quinn joined me. "I told you the same thing. You can't just let them walk all over you."

"I'm sorry, Quinn!" Stacy was apologetic.

"Don't apologize, get your deal back! Tell Tom what he should do!" I sat there with a smile on my face, eagerly awaiting Stacy's reply. Stacy turned towards me and was about to say something, but Steve shot her a look at she clammed up.

"Quinn, I think we should get going. We still have other places to go." I informed her.

"Uhhh, Stacy, we need to go." Quinn replied. We walked out of the shop.

Once we left, I had Quinn direct me to this Jeffy, the other success she had mentioned. She had mentioned that he did shows, but when she brought me to the convention center where he was working, it was clear that he position was more of a master of ceremonies. The convention center was holding a benefit, a charity fashion show to raise money for a hospital. Jeffy, wearing a black tuxedo, was announcing each of the women as they came on stage, and discussing their outfits. I told Quinn to watch Jeffy, who was clearly having a great time. He was quite animated, gesturing towards the women, cracking jokes, even out and out flirting with the much older women. He was quite the salesman, and many of the guests were raising their placards increasing their bids, which only made Jeffy become more animated.

After the show, we went backstage to see Jeffy.

"Quinn! You came to see my show!" Jeffy was even more excited then Stacy, practically falling over himself to reach her.

"You were fantastic." I praised. Jeffy was still eagerly looking at Quinn, and probably didn't even hear me.

"Jeffy, this is Tom, he's a friend of the family." Quinn introduced. It wasn't until the object of his affection introduced me that he acknowledged me.

"Hey, thanks, man." Jeffy acknowledged before turning back to Quinn.

"So, Quinn, want to see another show? I can get tickets for you, any day you want!" Jeffy eagerly offered.

"I'm a little busy this week, but I'll see." Jeffy seemed a little disappointed in Quinn's refusal. I saw my opportunity to finally speak to him.

"So what made you want to do these types of shows?" I asked Jeffy. "Is it always fashion shows?"

"Oh no, we did a car show two weeks ago, dude." Jeffy replied. "A couple of us guys tried out and I got it. We were around with Quinn about a month and she said that it looked like a fun job, so we all said we were going to try it so Quinn would come. And she did!" I was surprised how much this guy worshiped Quinn, and how little it seemed to bother her. Was I like that with Daria?

"We should probably get going. We still have some errands to run. Bye, Jeffy." Quinn was friendly, but brief, with Jeffy, and the two of us departed the convention center.

Rather then go back to the library, we headed to Pizza Palace. I thought Quinn would be one of those cheese-less pizza girls, so I just ordered myself a slice. I quietly ate in the booth, waiting for her to ask the question on her mind.

"So...why did we go see Stacy and Jeffy?" Quinn asked after a few seconds of painful silence.

"How did Stacy get those pictures in the window?" I asked, ignoring her question. Her answer would come in time.

"Well, Stacy mentioned once that she wanted to prove to her boss that she could do this job, so I bought some issues of Waif and Cargo, then I had Joey and Tiffany come to the store and had Stacy direct them to pose like the ads, but then I told her to change it around so she could say it was her own. I think that Steve guy showed up that time too, but since Stacy was directing them he went away."

"Quinn, why do you think Jeffy does so well at what he does? Are you smarter then Jeffy?" I quickly changed questions.

"Jeffy didn't do too bad at school. I mean, when Daria taught our class Jeffy did as good as I did with Romeo and Juliet, but he's really bad at math." I chuckled inwardly as I remembered that. Quinn tried to make the test easy, and Daria made the test open-ended. Quinn did well, it seemed.

"If you're smarter then Jeffy, why is he the success he is?" I posed. Quinn didn't answer.

"Why did Steve poach me from Stacy, but keep Joey and Tiffany?" I posed her another question. "You were there both times, weren't you?"

"I don't know. That's why I want to be tutored. So I can be smart and know stuff and even if I'm not as smart as you or Daria I can at least know something." Quinn seemed depressed, and I regretted that a little. But Quinn didn't need a tutor anymore; she didn't really need one in the first place. She needed a swift kick to the ass. And considering how much Jeffy and Stacy were both moved by her, she needed it as soon as possible.

"Quinn, why is it that Jeffy can engage a crowd of a hundred people and get them to donate money? Why does Stacy get a picture in the window one time but loses a customer the next? The answer is the same for both questions, and once you know that, you won't need a tutor anymore. Why..." I paused. I knew what I wanted to say next, but even I was hesitating.

"Tom?"

"Why is it that Daria ignored all the taunts and jeers of her classmates and did whatever she wanted." I noted, almost with reverence. It was the part of Daria I liked the best. Quinn wasn't answering any of my questions.

"Think about that." I told her. "If you can figure it out before school starts, you'll be able to do anything you want. But if you don't..." I paused again. I didn't want to state that answer.

"I'm...I'm gonna head home." Quinn, deep in thought, stood up to leave. I never thought my own comments would depress me.

"What do you want, Tom Sloane?" I thought. "You have it, you've been doing exactly what you want. So why are you so mopey? Why do you still feel bad when you told Daria the truth about Bromwell? Why do you hold on to what she said? Because you believe it, don't you."

"Hey, stranger!" I heard a familiar voice. I looked up from my slice to see Jane. I was positively overjoyed to see her again.

"Sorry, I just zoned out a bit. Pull up a seat."

"I'm with Trent. Come over and join us." Jane was pleasant and friendly, and I grabbed my half-eaten slice to join her. Was she looking for me all these time?

"Hey, Tom." Trent's slow voice greeted me. I returned his greeting.

"I haven't seen you in a month." Jane replied.

"Did you need another art critic?" I asked with a smile.

"Fresh set of eyes is always handy, and I even have paintings."

"My favorite. How about Saturday?" I offered.

"Which country club event you skipping out of?" Jane asked.

"I'll tell you when I learn what it is."

"You don't know?" Trent asked.

"I don't have to, I'm going to skip out."

"Oh." Trent looked at me quizzically, as if I had just admitted to wearing women's underpants.

"Did I just see you sitting with Quinn?" Jane asked.

"Yeah, I was tutoring her." I replied.

"Tutoring? What happened to the Tom who used to tease Quinn with highbrow insults?"

"I was bribed." I replied. That wasn't a total lie, after all. She did bribe me before I offered to do it for free.

"Isn't that Daria's sister?" Trent asked.

"Thanks for joining the program." I teased Trent. Jane and I often teased her brother. Now, though, Jane didn't seem amused, although she didn't seem angry. Perhaps she was still thinking art.

"How's your family?" I asked.

"Mom and Dad are still in the Azores." Jane replied. "I wonder if they'll be back before I start at BFAC."

"Doesn't mid-semester start in October?" I asked. To go entire months with parents not even in the country. Sounded like a luxury to me. But it was fortunate that Jane was able to form morals from such absence. There were lots of other ways she could have turned out. We sat in silence for a moment.

"How's Daria?" I asked.

"Why ask me?" Jane returned.

"You're best friends."

"Weren't you two going to keep in touch?" Jane returned. "And you've been seeing a lot of Quinn."

"It's Quinn." I returned. "And keeping in touch...doesn't always end well." I tried to avoid saying that Daria and I did nothing but fight. But Jane probably knew that anyway.

"Fair enough. I've barely seen her." Jane replied. I couldn't tell whether or not she was telling the truth. Jane was infinitely better at hiding her emotions then Daria, probably because she was more emotional to begin with. She had more practice faking it. I knew only what she wanted me to know. It made her mysterious, almost like an oracle. It was one of her more attractive features.

"I'm going to get another slice. Trent, you want?" Jane grabbed her empty plate and left the booth.

"Hmmm..." Trent mentioned.

"Penny for your thoughts." I asked.

"You want to buy my brain?" Trent asked. I winced. Trent had a way of missing the point on popular sayings. Sometimes, I thought that Trent just said things like that as a way of insulting people who don't say what's really on their mind, but I reasoned that would require too much effort.

"I just wanted to know what you were thinking."

"So, if you want to know how Daria is, why haven't you talked to her?" Trent asked.

"I've seen her over the summer a few times, but all we do is fight. I've got enough on my mind then her."

"Hey, people break up." Trent replied. "You aren't still mad about that, are you?"

"Whose mad? I'm not mad." I defended, weakly. I wanted to avoid the topic of our break-up, especially with Trent. He had a way of getting people to say what was on their mind, which was precisely what I didn't want to say.

"I've been bothered by college." I stated. "It's too much to deal with that and Daria."

"You aren't at college yet." Trent pointed out, in his slow monotone.

"It's really about the admission."

"You were already accepted." Trent stated again.

"Wow, you really have no defense against that." I nearly laughed as I thought to myself.

"I'm concerned that I was accepted for reasons not related to my own merits." I worded carefully. Trent needed everything spelled out.

"Like what?"

"Because my family went there."

"What does that have to do with you?" Trent kept asking single sentence, single thought questions.

"My thoughts exactly." I thought. I had absolutely no idea how to word something that complicated for Trent. How could I explain to him that I thought they accepted me because they wanted my uncle to donate another wing?

"I haven't seen you at Spiral's gigs." Trent noted. "I thought you liked coming."

"I do, it's just...well." I started to stutter.

"Wow, Tom. You're, like, dead inside." Trent delivered. Trent was neither cruel or callous, he stated it as if he was answering what toppings he wanted on his pizza.

"Ouch." I thought. Even Daria wasn't that cold.

Jane rejoined us with pizza, and we ate in silence. I would never expect Trent to talk much, Jane concentrated solely on the food in front of her. I had too much to think about.

When I awoke on Friday, I could barely muster the effort to get out of bed. I had tried to teach Quinn the final lesson she needed, but all it ended up doing was depressing me. For all my talk, I really had no right to lecture her on performing tasks confidently when all I had been doing ever since the breakup was going through empty motions. And if Trent noticed it too, that was definitely a concern. For all of Trent's laziness, he could speak his mind.

I never thought self-reflection was a bad thing, but with all the time I've been spending with my thoughts, my thoughts were delving into some dark places, and that was where I didn't want them to be. I briefly considered attending one of Mom's functions, but dismissed the idea as soon as it came up. I'd just be alone with my thoughts there too, not to mention have to dress up.

I lay in bed until late in the afternoon. The house was quiet. Elsie was probably passed out in some random guys house, Dad was working. I didn't think Mom had an event planned today, but she had been throwing herself into the club with even more vigor then usual.

I dressed. I should at least have looked for her.

Surprisingly, I found her in her study. She worked meticulously at her table, invitations neatly stacked up for some formal affair. Writing was one of Mom's passions, and she always took the time to write invitations, send thank-you notes, and all of that crap herself. Mom had impeccable penmanship and was skilled in calligraphy. She was as devoted as Jane when it came to such art, and I often couldn't find her if she was doing it.

"Hello, Tom." She noticed me in the doorway. "I haven't seen you in a long time." She made it a point to remind me.

"Hey, Mom. What are you doing?" I asked, ignoring her statement.

"Just getting invitations ready for the fund-raiser in August. That's when the new gallery opens." She replied. "What have you been up to?"

"Lots of things." I lied. "Right now I'm applying for a few scholarships." I wasn't doing any such thing, but I figured this would be an excellent transition into my fears about Bromwell.

"Scholarships?" Mom saw through it immediately. "Sweetie, you know your father and I are handling the bill since you already got half in scholarships already before school ended. You're not going to have student debt." My parents had made this arrangement with me when I was applying to college. Through Bromwell itself, as well as a few other institutions, I nickeled and dimed my way to about three-quarters of tuition, and now I didn't have to pay my way for anything that was school-related.

"That doesn't mean I can't apply for more." My defense was pretty weak, but it would work on Mom.

"You're so considerate, Tom. But there's really no need. Save them for someone else, they'll probably need it more then you." That was true, although it's not like I was actually applying. I remembered Jodie's boyfriend and his tales of scholarships.

"Hey, Mom, how many of your family went to Bromwell?" I asked. Mom paused.

"Well, there weren't as many in mine as your father's, but, aside from me, my father and brother both went. That was your Uncle Keith. They both went before me, of course." She explained. I had never met Mom's brother; he was a soldier and died in the Vietnam War, long before I was born. It always made Mom sad, and we never discussed him.

"Why the sudden interest, Tom?" She asked.

"Mom..." I didn't know how else to ask it, so I asked it directly. "Did I get into Bromwell because of all the family we had go there?" I think I knew what Mom would say to that question, but I didn't know how Mom would react. I would have bolted out the room if she laughed. But she kept a straight face.

"Of course not, dear. That doesn't count like it used to." Mom stated, almost with pride that merit mattered more. I remember I had said something similar to Daria a few months and an eternity ago.

"Mom, I...I'm having a hard time believing that." My frown deepened, I almost felt like I was going to cry.

"I know I got good grades, and I know I had a good interview stating all those little stories Grandpa Alex told me. But I had practically no extracurricular activities, and I know Bromwell is really big on that." I noted.

"Well, dear, that's why they count all of those things." Mom replied exactly like I thought she would, which meant she was of no help at all.

"Mom, I can't shake it. Didn't you have this problem when you went to Bromwell?" Mom's face frowned. This was it, the moment of truth. Now, how would she react? I prayed for a miracle.

"Tom, what's wrong, dear?" She asked that question of me often, and I could tell she was concerned, but now I was angry.

"I just answered that." I nearly growled. "Weren't you paying attention?"

"Tom!"

"Mom, I just admitted that I thought I was cheated in the best university in America. This is big. And you're just brushing this off. Can't you see how much this bugs me. Don't you get this at all?" I had never been this angry with her in my whole life, and never took this tone. But this was huge. How could she be so stupid.

"Tom, you have nothing to worry about." She spoke kindly.

"That's such a mom answer." I returned.

"It's the only answer there is, dear. You deserve to get into Bromwell."

"Because of my grades, or because of Uncle Edgar's wing? Think they'll take Elsie if it means Dad'll donate them one?" I dared. If Daria was not Bromwell material, then neither was Elsie. Elsie was about as involved in school as she was, but Elsie's grades were solid C's. Cocaine tended to wreck one's mind seemed.

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

"How else should I be? Or did I spoil the plan for buying Elsie's future?" I knew I crossed the line with that one, but I said it anyway.

"Tom!" Mom was very upset. "What is the matter with you?"

"With me? What's wrong with you? Why can't you take anything seriously that isn't about that country club?" It took all my effort to avoid using profanity.

"I am, dear, but you're overreacting. You're letting Daria's rejection into Bromwell affect you. She had a bad interview, remember, and her extracurriculars were less then yours. That doesn't mean you both should have failed." I silently acknowledged the validity of that point, after all, that's what I believed. But that didn't deal with the problem.

"Not to mention her father didn't donate a wing." I commented. Mom ignored it.

"Tom, I don't know what's gotten into you, but you need to get over it, fast." Mom cautioned. "I've been a good sport since you've broken up with Daria but that was months ago."

"Mom, this has nothing to do with Daria and me breaking up. I just admitted what got into me and you ignored it. Then you jump down my throat for acting strange, caring nothing about the why. Some mom." I insulted. Mom looked with equal parts fury and despair.

"Forget I brought it up." I told her, bounding out the door. I couldn't stay here. I thought Mom would see beyond her pretense, but she couldn't. I didn't get my miracle, maybe it was never supposed to occur.

I didn't know where to go. I couldn't just wander Lawndale, and I couldn't stay in the house, I could too easily be found. So I wandered the grounds. We lived on quite a number of wooded acres, and it was easy to disappear here. I strolled along, listening to nothing but the sound of the trees and birds. Eventually, I came to the old swing set, where I sat when I broke up with Jane. I sat in the swing and started to think.

"What is wrong with me?" I thought. If I had asked Mom this question at the beginning of the summer, I would have never blown up with her about this. She would have delivered the same answers, I would have expected them, and it would have been over. I would have moved on easily. I wouldn't have felt any better, but I certainly wouldn't feel as bad as I did now. Maybe I just wanted Bromwell to start so I could get away from all of this. Going months on end without seeing my folks, ignoring their alumni trips, was certainly enough to get me anxious. But I had never taken that tone with my mother before. Only with Daria had I ever gotten that incensed.

"This is all your fault, Daria." My thoughts, the little voice I tried to ignore, moaned. But I couldn't ignore it this time. It was Daria's fault. It all started with her.

"Everyone takes advantage of you, Tom." I thought. "Your sister taunts you because you'll never fight back. Your mother hates you because you see through her lies. Your father wouldn't care if you disappeared. Daria blames you. Daria hates you. They all hate you."

"Quiet!" I growled out loud, briefly forgetting I was talking to myself. This was doing me no good. I need to get out. Go somewhere, anywhere. I considered calling Jane, but I was going to see her tomorrow. I knew who to get in touch with.

"Hey, Quinn, it's Tom." I called up Quinn, who was the only person I could tolerate right now.

"What's wrong, Tom?" She asked.

"Nothing is wrong. Hey, I was wondering, do you want to hit a movie or something? You've been doing so well with tutoring, I think you deserve a break."

"Oh, well, I'm going to this party my friend Lindy is hosting. She's a college student." That sounded perfect. I remained quiet, knowing exactly what would come next.

"Would you like to come?" Quinn offered. Game, set, match.

"Yeah." I answered immediately. As I hung up the phone, I couldn't help but think how desperate I sounded. It was almost like a bad come-on. But I ignored it. Soon, I'd be around other people, and there I could forget that I was a Sloane.

Lindy was an attractive girl, slightly older then me. I could tell from her flushed cheeks she was already tipsy as we arrived.

"Hey, Quinn, glad you could make it." Lindy was very friendly with Quinn, but Quinn responded only politely. Plenty of history between them, I was sure.

"And who is this?" She turned to me. "He's cute."

"Lindy!" Quinn was amazed at her abruptness.

"What? He gets that all the time, probably." Lindy chuckled drunkenly.

"Usually I have to butter them up first. Hi, I'm Tom." I replied. "I'm a friend of Quinn's."

"Not dating, huh? So I do have a chance." She pursed her lips and made a kissing noise.

"Lindy!" Quinn was surprised again.

"Relax, Quinn." I calmed her down. Lindy went to grab another presumably alcoholic drink.

"Uh, thanks. For being so..." Quinn stuttered.

"Relax, I don't just hook up with girls randomly." I chuckled. To myself I quietly admitted that I already learned my lesson there. Lindy's friends were all college students, and if this was the face of the future, the world was in for some bleak times. Every single one of these losers were drunken heaps. I tried to strike up a conversation with them, but the only one sober enough to talk to besides Quinn was Lindy, who was more interested in flirting with me then actual discussion.

"Do you go to college?" She asked.

"I will be. I'm going to Bromwell in the far."

"A smart cutie." Lindy said in an exaggerated fashion. "And to think Quinn has you all for herself. Sure you don't want a drink?"

"I'll pass. I'm driving."

"Quinn knows how to drive, and you can crash here if you want."

"Wow, what is in that?" I asked.

"Have a taste." She offered. "I know how to make a great martini." I denied her again.

"I'm not dating Quinn, so you know. Actually, I dated her sister. Quinn's just a friend."

"Good, because getting into relationships is no reason to mess up a friendship." She noted. I couldn't help but think if Daria and Jane had a conversation like this after Daria and I made out. I wondered which of them was the tipsy one.

"You said dated." Lindy was just about to fall over herself. "You don't anymore?"

"Nah, we're going to different colleges." I was surprised how calmly I was acting about the breakup. Maybe I truly was over that part of my feud with Daria.

"Well, that's good. Long distance never helped a relationship. You gotta try this, Tom, you'll love it. It'll get you ready for college." Lindy offered me her cup. I was about to deny it for the twentieth or so time, but this time, I didn't say no. I didn't want to get into a conversation about Daria, at least, I wasn't going to do it sober.

I don't know what happened after that. I remember Lindy made drink after drink and I, like an idiot, guzzled them down. Quinn was nowhere in sight. My words were slurred, my thoughts muddled. I couldn't form clear thoughts for the longest time.

When I came to, I was in a place I didn't initially recognize. I was laying on a couch, a pillow under my head, and a blanket up to my chin. Underneath the blanket I was still clothed, although I was missing my shoes. That was a relief, I probably wouldn't have had the dexterity to put my pants back on, so they probably stayed on all night. There was no lights on, but there was a soft glow of daylight illuminating the area. It was probably early morning, just after sunrise.

I tried to move, but a heavy pounding in my head made me stop.

"A hangover. Just what I always wanted. What did I do?" I wondered. I lay my head back down and tried to recall my surroundings. Although my head still felt a little fuzzy, I realized I was at Daria's, lying in her living room on the sofa.

"How on Earth did I get here? Did Quinn bring me back? She must be stronger then she looks. Braver too, it takes courage to drive my Rustmobile." I moved slowly, trying to get myself to a seated position. Sitting on the chair opposite me was Daria, dozing off in the recliner.

"Should I just duck out?" I thought. I didn't want to wake her, this was already awkward enough considering I didn't know how I got here. But she was down here when she wasn't in her bed. She was aware. Which meant she had answers. Or questions.

My dilemma no longer mattered a minute later, for Daria heard my grunts and awakened.

"Good morning, Daria." I had no idea what else to say at a moment like this.

"Hello, Tom." Daria's voice was flat. "You're probably wondering why you're here." I didn't answer that obviously rhetorical question.

"Well, I only know things from my end, but at around midnight last night, Quinn calls and mentions that she's stuck at a party and has no way of getting back home."

"And you picked her up? I would have thought you'd tell her to walk for getting into her own problems."

"That was the plan, but then she told me you were with her and completely passed out from drinking too much. I couldn't resist." I frowned. Did that mean Daria wanted to see me in a bad spot?

"Glad to see you still have a heart." I returned. "Can we take this outside, I don't want to wake your folks?" I noted as I found my shoes under the table.

My car wasn't in the driveway of the Morgendorffer's, but I still had my keys. It must have been left at Lindy's. I took a seat on the stoop while I waited for the world to stop spinning.

"Thanks, Daria. For bringing me back here."

"I planned on leaving you there, but Quinn paid me fifty." Was Daria kidding? I couldn't tell.

"I'm not sure if that amount makes me sad or happy."

"Tom, what were you doing there?" She asked, although with Daria's cynical monotone, I couldn't tell if she was mocking me or showing concern.

"Quinn invited me to the party and I had too much to drink. Never make that mistake again. This must be what it feels like to be Elsie." I told the truth.

"Why were you hanging around with Quinn?" Daria asked.

"She didn't tell you?" I replied.

"Enlighten me."

"It's part of a needlessly elaborate plot to make you jealous and insecure." I scowled a little. "Seriously, Daria, what does it matter?" I voiced the concerns I had that made me consider not tutoring Quinn.

"You took my sister to a party where you proceeded to get totally wasted and left her stranded." Daria replied. She had a good point, but I wasn't about to admit it.

"And your sisterly compassion shined through." I noted sarcastically. Daria did not get angry like I thought she would.

"Umm, is everything okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, all things considered. How are you?" I reversed, not considering the more serious implications of her question. Daria didn't answer.

"I'm just saying that this is not like you. You'd go to a party, you'd go make friends, but you'd never get completely trashed. And you'd never ditch a guest."

"Do you want me to admit there's a problem, Daria?" I asked. This question could go so many ways.

"If you have one." Daria noted.

"Well, I don't. This was the first, and last time, I'll ever drink like that. God, I feel so stupid, I really owe Quinn."

"You've been tutoring Quinn, haven't you?" Daria asked.

"Didn't she tell you that?"

"No. Jane did yesterday. How is it going?"

"I'm not going to answer, it wouldn't be fair. You like that word, don't you." My hangover started to disappear, visions of Bromwell in my mind.

"Do you want to pick a fight this early in the morning?" Daria asked.

"No, but that's all a discussion of Quinn would lead to. Just say what you want to tell me, that I shouldn't have gone behind your back like this? That you were concerned I was dating Quinn?"

"No. But I should warn you that Quinn likes to date her tutors. Or try to."

"Out of concern for me, or for her?" I posed. Daria didn't answer.

"I'm not dating Quinn." I admitted. "She's not my type. You know that."

"I think you made a stupid mistake last night." Daria stated. We stood in silence for a moment. I was amazed by how civil we were, considering how much the two of us were frothing at the mouth just a month ago. I still thought Daria blamed me for her rejection at Bromwell, just as I thought she still thought I got into my college because of my legacy as a Sloane. I didn't want to talk about it, not right now, not with my hangover. But I knew we'd have to, one day. At least now there was no fire.

"It's too early for pizza, but do you want to go for some pancakes and eggs?" I offered. "I bet you can't do that with Jane."

"No, I want to get back to sleep in bed. But, ummm, I can take you back to the college to get your car."

"I think I deserve to walk." I noted with regret.

"It's too far to walk. Come on."

"What did this mean?" I pondered as Daria drove. Had Daria forgiven me? Doubtful. Daria was brutal, and I made a really stupid move. I had made dumb cracks before, and I had conceded them to Daria out of my concern for her, but I don't remember a time when she accepted a slight against her and forgave me for it. It wasn't her way. I thought of opening my mouth and asking her, but I bit my tongue. I couldn't fight her now, I was way too exhausted and not feeling well, and Daria would know that she'd have the advantage.

"Are you going to see Jane today?" Daria said the first words in a long time.

"She mention that?"

"Yeah. She's been working non-stop on her art. One time I stopped by and I could swear she was still sculpting as she slept."

"Was it any good?"

"Art is subjective." Daria joked. I got a laugh out of it, but my laugh caused my head to hurt again.

"I'm glad she's going to BFAC." I noted.

"So am I." Daria returned. "Umm...listen, about Jane and her admission."

"Relax, Daria, I already know." I replied. "I know you used me so that Jane would apply."

"You aren't outraged? I would be."

"I was outraged. But it helped Jane more then it hurt me, so I guess I can forgive you." Although Daria kept her eyes on the road, I could swear I could feel her staring at me.

"You're being serious." Daria stated with slight disbelief.

"You sound surprised." I noted. Was it truly so strange to forgive? Maybe for Daria.

"It's just early. I'm really not." Whether it was true or not I couldn't tell, my hangover impeded my thoughts.

"What about that other thing?" She asked.

"What other thing?" I played dumb, but I knew what was coming.

"Bromwell." Daria noted. No surprises there.

"I have no idea." I replied. Perhaps this month really mellowed me out. Was it time, or was it my desperate attempts to be civil after I blew up at my mother.

"What about you?" I reversed. I think I knew what she was going to say, but I needed to hear it from her.

"I've already answered that. You deserved to get into Bromwell." Her delivery was just as flat as it was at Pizza Palace. Even with the hangover, I could tell there was something else behind it.

"You're not going to break up with me now, are you."

"I can leave you here." Daria noted. We drove in silence, I started to seethe, my stomach ached to match my head. I could feel our arguments coming again. But it was easy, suspiciously easy, to control my rage. Was I truly over it?

"Daria, you know I never thought less of you because you didn't get into Bromwell." I said the only nice thing I could think of that was still true about Daria and Bromwell.

"I know that." Daria's response felt like a kiss-off. Again. I don't know what I was waiting for next, but all that followed was an uncomfortable silence. Did I want her to say that she thought I was bright, and actually mean it? Did I want her to snap at me again so that my boredom could melt away? Whatever I wanted was of no consequence. Once I reached my car, Daria dropped me off, and drove away without saying goodbye.

I didn't head back home after I got my car. I took myself up on my offer and went to a diner for some food and coffee. I hated coffee, but it would help my headache, I figured. I actually quite liked diners like these, and I wondered if that was where Dad stopped for breakfast everyday. He worked so early that we never saw him at home for it.

I had no desire to go back home. I could sneak in quietly and avoid everyone; it was a weekend so Dad would probably still be asleep, only to leave and "catch up" on office work, whatever still needed to get done, but my mother would still be there, and I was probably in for an unnecessary earful. I could hang out at the diner, then cruise around town for a bit.

Trent let me in the Lane house, which surprised me. I had left the diner and arrived at Jane's around 11, and Trent never woke up until around dinnertime.

"Hey, Tom." Trent sounded tired, although it was difficult to tell since he always sounded the same.

"Hey, Trent. Jane around?" I asked.

"Somewhere." He replied. "Go ahead and look for her. I think she was supposed to take me to practice today."

"Practice?"

"Yeah, we have a gig on Saturday, so we want to go over some new songs for it."

"Trent, today is Saturday." I informed him. It took a second for that fact to register in Trent's mind, but he finally let out an expletive.

"I'll go find Jane now." I headed up to her room and knocked on her door. No answer, but the door was open so I peeked inside. Jane was nowhere to be found. So I walked around the house, checking various rooms for her. The entire house was covered in various pieces of Jane's, most of them half-complete. Easels with paintings in every room, sculptures on all the counters. I think I saw a woodwork sculpture in the bathroom, although I tried not to consider that one too heavily.

I eventually discovered Jane in the backyard, painting in the family gazebo. I remember she had told me a story about it and her brother Wind, but I couldn't remember the details.

"Hey there." She smiled. Jane looked tired, had she been there all night working?

"Working hard." I chuckled. "I got the grand tour while I looked for you. I wish Trent had told me you were in the back."

"It's before noon, I'm surprised he answered the door. Was he clothed?"

"Partially." I teased. "So, impressive work from what I saw. I particularly like the silver haired woman in the painting in the living room."

"Ah, yes, the one covered in blood holding a baby. I got the idea from that one after I flipped on the TV and somehow it got on the news." Jane chuckled.

"We always knew the world's madness would be your muse. At least you know your voice."

"Well, I'm going to need more critiques then that. I'm not going to screw up at BFAC so I need to get as good as I possibly can." Jane noted. I knew that, once October rolled around, Jane would bring very little of this to the college. But this wasn't about bringing pieces, this was about technique, form, and style. I remember when she sold recreations and some pretentious snot told her she had some lousy brushwork. It bugged her for the longest time.

"Jane Lane, is that ambition I see in your eyes?" I teased her a little, smiling at her effort.

"You know how much of a prima donna I can be. Come on!" Jane dragged me back into the house.

I always knew that Jane devoted all of her effort into her art, as much as she didn't concentrate on anything else. But this was surreal. Jane led me into rooms that I normally wouldn't go into, like her sister Penny's room. She showed me works she hated, works she loved, the completed and the barely started, and everything in between. Paintings, sculptures, no type of project was overlooked. She asked me hard questions about brushwork and texture, things I knew nothing about, but commented on anyway. She wasn't asking me to be her sounding board; she asked me because she wanted to know.

"Jane, you're really getting into this." I was very impressed with her.

"I've always been into art." She replied in her brief demeanor. "You know that."

"I mean really getting into this. I've never seen you so driven. Usually your art just came at whim."

"It still does." Jane agreed. "But ever since I'm going to college I've been trying to find a way to impress my critics as well as work I can be proud of. I've been doing every medium and type of style I can think of."

"Well, the fact that you can transition so easily into one era is impressive. I really like this, Jane, I love that you want this so much." I was proud of her. I knew how much staying true to her muse was important to her, and the fact that Jane was willing to work so hard to keep it was inspiring.

"It's all thanks to Daria. And you." Jane admitted.

"I know, the letter. Don't worry, I'm over it." I stated. Jane said nothing more on the topic, but she looked at me as strangely as Daria did. Was it truly so odd?

"How was the party last night?" Jane asked. I blushed to the tips of my ears.

"Ah, crap. Daria mentioned it."

"She called me after she brought you home." Jane did not laugh, which surprised me. My stupid blunders often made her laugh.

"Go ahead, get your snipes in." I invited her to attack me, but she didn't.

"Relax, Tom, I remember a few times when I had too much. Let's just say an artist friend showed me her busy hands." I stared at Jane.

"There are so many ways that I could take that."

"Not a word." Jane pressed a finger to her lips. "So I'm not going to yell at you. But seriously, Tom, what was up with that? You were always the responsible one, never going to do that crap Elsie did." Jane was asking me a serious question, which rarely happened.

"I just messed up." I blew off her concerns and answered briefly. "I had a fight with my mother about Bromwell and their admission standards, Quinn told me about a party, and one thing led to the stupid conclusion."

"You're still hung up on that?" Jane asked.

"It's easy for you to say that." I retorted, becoming forceful but not angry. "Your family didn't go to college."

"Yeah, I guess I really don't." Jane replied, her tone softening.

"I wish Mom had just admitted that. Maybe I wouldn't have snapped at her." I thought.

"Tom, take a look at a few of my roughs." Jane returned my thoughts to art, but seemed to ask me more seriously then she did for her other works.

"Rough sketches? You don't do many of those."

"I do when I'm deciding to make it paint or charcoal. Come on, look at this pad." Jane handed me one of her sketch pads. She had dozens upon dozens of them, but only three people had ever seen them: Trent, Daria, and me, in that order. And none of us had seem them all.

"You've been doing a lot of portraits lately." I noticed as I flipped. Most of them were not of people I knew, probably people in Jane's head. Her gift with imagination was truly legendary, to create a face from nothing.

I considered each of her sketches, offering comments when appropriate, but I didn't pause until I reached near the end. Staring back at me was my own face. Jane had used colored pencils on this one. Her sense of color was always great. My portrait's eyes matched my own green eyes, my skin was the right pale peach color, a muddy brown mop topped my head. It was an accurate picture of me, that's for sure.

"Am I commenting on your color sense, or the handsomeness of your model?" I teased. "Either way, well done." I looked back at the sketch, and found it drawing me in even more.

"I've seen this face." I noted, my voice becoming softer as I traced my portrait's lips with my finger. Pursed into a frown. I noticed that the skin around my cheeks sagged; my eyes were at a downward tilt, looking at the ground. My portrait was a face of abject despair, someone defeated and broken, almost trying to disappear.

"I see it when I look in the mirror." I never felt this way looking at my reflection, but it was true.

"I drew this after we met at the pizza place. What's up with you, Tom?" Jane asked seriously. "I mean really. I haven't seen you this depressed since you and Daria broke up." I didn't answer her for an extended moment, transfixed by my portrait.

"A complete and total lack of confidence." I said silently.

"In what?" Jane asked, and I realized I had spoken my thoughts aloud.

"Crap." I thought. There was no weaseling, no deflections, no lies that could get out of this one. Unlike my family, Jane gave a damn. Jane gave a damn about the substance and not the appearance. She knew when there was something wrong, and she was not going to let me get away. So, I told Jane the truth. She already knew about Bromwell, so I told her about the fight with my Mom, and how much it really bothered me that she didn't understand. I told her about Daria, about all the fights we had. I told her how my thoughts on tutoring Quinn, the darker thoughts I had shared with no one. And I told her of how listless life had become, how it was painful just to do the basic chores of eating, dressing, and sleeping. Jane sat there, listening intently, not even drawing. I could read nothing in her face. Was she confused, or did she want to not give herself away. I was scared.

"Wow, Tom, I had no idea you were so screwed up."

"I wasn't. I only got like this this summer. I hate it." I felt very small, sitting on Jane's bed. My eyes about to water, my knees pressed to my chest almost as if in defense. Jane offered no advice, perhaps she had none. I wanted to look at more of her art, something, anything, to get my thoughts someplace else. But Jane was distracted, she could no longer speak about it. I excused myself.

I went back home, as much as I didn't want to. After making it to my room without being accosted, I called up Quinn.

"Tom!" Quinn seemed a bit elated to hear from me.

"How are you?" I asked.

"Fine. How are you?" She reversed.

"Listen, I called to apologize for last night." I returned. "I didn't mean to leave you like that." Quinn didn't answer at first.

"Quinn?" I probed.

"I'm sorry." Quinn said. "I should have mentioned Lindy liked to drink and we shouldn't have let her..."

"Quinn." I cut her off as she started to trail off. "It's not your fault, it's mine. I knew I shouldn't have, but then I did. Don't think this was your fault." Quinn was silent for a moment.

"Tom, I know you might get mad if I ask you this but I just wanted to ask if there was some kind of problem." Quinn talked fast, as she did whenever she was nervous.

"Problem?"

"The only person I've ever seen drink like that is my father and that's when my Mom is talking to my Aunt Rita and I don't want to go into that but I should ayy that those two do nothing but fight since Rita never has a job and I'm worried it's something like that because my father can't stand being around them when they fight so he drinks and then he starts talking..." Quinn started babbling, although I was able to sort through her words.

"Listen, Quinn." I cut her off again. "I don't drink. Normally. If you're unsure, ask Daria or Jane. But I still feel like a big screw-up for leaving you like that. I owe you for that, and again for taking care of me."

"That was more Daria." Quinn admitted. "I didn't know what to do." Daria had told me she planned on leaving me at Lindy's. So which was the lie?

"Well, I already spoke to her about it." I told her. I'd figure it out later "I'll see you next Monday for our lessons, okay."

"Yeah, okay." Quinn sounded sad as I hung up the phone.

My sleep last night was not restful, so I had taken a nap and when I awoke, it was late afternoon. I still felt a little groggy, but I was well enough to get some water without the house spinning.

"Where is everyone?" I thought. There was loud music coming from Elsie's room, but Mom and Dad were both gone. Was there some country club event? I remember joking about Jane about skipping out on the event, but I didn't actually know of one.

"I guess it's just as well." I thought. Mom was angry with me, she had the right to be. She would have told my father, as she did whenever I crossed the line, and then he'd lecture me. Possibly. He'd pretend to notice and say things that made absolutely no sense, things he would know if he ever gave the slightest sort of effort. Then I'd give some generic answer and he'd forget about it within a couple of days.

"God, what is wrong with all of them." I was trying to think of their problems, so I wouldn't have to deal with what I started thinking at Jane's house. Elsie's loud music was starting to grate me. Normally I would have just gone back to my room and shut the door, but I had no inclination of anything else. Perhaps it was the remnants of the hangover, perhaps it was my lack of patience, perhaps it was just boredom, but I knocked on her door.

"Turn that crap down, Elsie!" I shouted through the door. The volume did not adjust. I was surprised. Normally, Elsie would have raised it just to be a bitch.

"Elsie!" I shouted. "I'm in no mood. Turn that crap off!" I pounded on the door again, and it opened. I pushed my way in, in no mood to be polite with her.

Elsie's room was white and frilly, with lots of pillows. I don't remember the last time I had been in it. Elsie wasn't initially visible, so I went over to her stereo and shut the power off. I paused for a second, and didn't hear her protest.

"Where the hell are you?" I growled to myself. Then I saw her on the bed, completely sound asleep.

"Rude bitch." I thought. I just thought to leave, but I stopped. Something seemed weird. Probably because Elsie lie on top of the blankets. Wearing her shoes. I moved in for a closer look. Elsie herself was quiet, I could only hear her slight breathing. But I looked on the bedside table next to her. I saw two orange cylindrical bottles.

"Prescription bottles." I noticed. "Elsie doesn't have any of those." I took a look at one of the bottles. Diazepam. I knew what that was, a tranquilizer. Elsie was never prescribed those, and the name on the bottle was not hers, it wasn't even one I recognized.

I knew that I would never become a doctor, but I knew what this meant: Time to call 911. After giving the information, I walked back into Elsie's room. Now that I studied her closer, I noticed the track marks in her arm. Did she do both the drugs and the pills at the same time, or was that just wear and tear from her previous uses? I had no idea. I wasn't angry with Elsie at all. Instead, I felt a strange combination of pity and contempt. Elsie was truly pathetic. To have all the gifts she had been given and she wasted them on cheap thrills, on cocaine, on drugs. An overdose, I figured, was what had happened here. Whether it was pills, drugs, or both I couldn't tell, I'd leave that for the doctors to determine. Despite it all, I didn't feel concerned, and I wondered was that wrong? I did want Elsie to pull through this, but what would she have to look forward to? Her parents and brother to criticize her for her dumb moves, her every move planned out? Detox and rehab?

I smiled. All things she deserved for her dumb moves.

"And what of your dumb moves, Tom? Will Elsie's blunder screw your life up? Will you no longer be able to enjoy these things because they'll be watching you, afraid of losing you like Elsie?" My thoughts wandered. I reasoned that I would not call my parents; I had no idea what to tell them anyway.

The paramedics came, and I gave them all the information that I knew. When they asked me if I wanted to come with them, I refused, and gave them my parents' numbers. I knew I would probably catch hell for staying home instead, but the sight of Elsie was the last thing I needed to see right now.

"Daria?" I said. I was completely surprised to see her here.

"What...what are you doing here?" I asked.

"Just taking in the view." She commented in her normal Daria monotone. I chuckled inwardly. I had briefly forgotten I was wearing nothing but my boots and my boxers.

"Well, if it's something fantastic you'd like to see, perhaps you can come into my tent." I flirted, something I normally didn't do with Daria, while tugging on the elastic waistband of my boxers.

"I might even still have that condom in my wallet." I teased. I rarely flirted with Daria; it always seemed to make her uncomfortable. But we weren't dating now, and I was far too relaxed.

"That would have expired by now." Daria delivered flatly.

"Then I don't have to bother looking for it."

"Tom..." Daria dismissed, indicating she was done with the joke.

"Relax, Daria." I had gotten my laugh in. It was time to get serious. I didn't come out here to sleep with her, and I didn't want to anyway.

"You're probably wondering how I found you."

"There's only one way you could have gotten it." I replied. "The real questions are how did Quinn give it away and how much did you bribe her to spill it?"

"I overheard the first one as I passed by Quinn's door. As for the second, well, if you use the right words and you know what you want, you can get Quinn to say anything."

"I can't help but wonder if that's a compliment or an insult." I teased. Daria said nothing.

"So anyway, back to my question. Why are you here?"

"I came to see you." A straightforward answer, for once.

"That's pretty unusual. Unusual still to come here. Wouldn't Quinn have told you I'd be back in a week?" I posed. Quinn did know the length of my plans, it didn't make much sense that Daria would exert this much effort just to see me. I did take pains to stay hidden, and Daria would have had to search to find the campsite.

"Tom." Daria pleaded. "I wanted to see how you were right now."

"Daria, you're acting strangely. I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" I tried to play dumb, but I knew what was coming next.

"Jane mentioned what happened to Elsie."

"Damn." I noted. "Well, let me get dressed." I rummaged around in my tent for some pants and a T-shirt. I brought out a cooler so Daria could sit, while I'll took a seat on a stump. This was going to be a long conversation.

"There's really no need for concern, Daria. Elsie's fine."

"Don't pretend like this doesn't bother you." Daria stated. An accusation, especially about denial, always sounded harsher coming from Daria.

"If we're playing the denial game, then why don't you tell me why you're here. You didn't come here to talk to me about Elsie." I posed. Daria spoke to Elsie even less then I spoke to Quinn during our time together. At my insistence, of course. Elsie had been screwing up her life when Daria came in to mine, and there was no way I'd let Elsie potentially mess her up. Although Daria may indeed have been concerned for me about Elsie, she would not have made the trek here just for that.

"Daria?" I probed. She was silent for a long time.

"I've been thinking all summer. About us, about everything." Daria finally spoke. "It's all I've been thinking about. I couldn't even concentrate on college."

"And what is it that bothers you?" I asked for clarification. Daria halted, as if she didn't know what to say. A rare instance, to be sure.

"Tom, ever since I met you, I realized just how awful I can be to people who care about me, even when I think I'm just being me." Daria had told me something like this before, about her parents.

"Hey, you had no reason to like me then." Something I had told her before. I had no interest in digging that up again.

"I meant Jane. When we first met, and when we kissed, I realized just how much I could hurt the people I cared about."

"We all do that. And Jane forgave us. I think. I mean, she hasn't come over punching me in the chest again." I kept my lighthearted facade up. "But I think you're getting off-track. Come on, Daria, tell me. What is it you needed to talk about?" Daria seemed almost relieved that I had called her on that.

"Tom, when we broke up, it hurt." She stated an obvious fact, something I knew well. Many things were going through my mind for responses.

"I know." Was the only thing I managed to get out.

"I told myself it was for the best. I still think it is." Daria stated. "I said we'd both move on, but months have passed and I'm still hurting. And I don't know if this is just normal for relationships or if there's something wrong with me."

I paused, unsure of what to take from her words. Was this the revenge I wanted? Did I want her to pine for me? I looked up at Daria's face for the first time since we started talking, and I looked into her eyes. There was such sadness, such devastation, it was like the world was holding her by the throat.

"I never realized how much this hurt you." I remarked. I remembered where I had seen her look that way before: at the Pizza Palace when we broke up. I dismissed it from my memory when I saw it then. I couldn't consider how she felt then, I wouldn't consider it. And the realization of it caused the same despair to infect me.

"I didn't want you to. I know you Tom. You always take the blame, even when you shouldn't. You did it all the time in our relationship."

"I did that because I screwed up." I remarked. It was true, I had no shortage of insensitive comments, stupid remarks, and just out-and-out confusion about the minds of women. As much as I had dated, perhaps I thought I knew better then I did.

"No, Tom. You didn't screw up. We both screwed up. And I had a hard time admitting that to myself. I wanted to blame you for everything. It was easier then blaming myself." I said nothing.

"You were right about Bromwell. I wanted to get in and I didn't." Daria vocalized my own thoughts.

"You are still smart enough. Daria, you're brilliant." I praised.

"I'm not as great as you think, Tom. Sure, I'm smart, but I'm not the smartest person here." Daria put herself down. My knee-jerk reaction was to protest, but I held my tongue.

"I had no extracurricular activities, and to top it off, my interview was botched. You didn't have those problems, at least not to my extent." Daria noted. "Just because I didn't was no reason to mean that you shouldn't have as well."

"I still think you deserved to get in." I noted. I always had believed that.

"Tom, I know I've told you this, but you deserve to get into Bromwell." She had told me this before. She said it at Pizza Palace just before we broke up. Back then, it sounded like a kiss-off, something she didn't believe. Now, it sounded sincere.

"What about the wing and the legacy and all that other crap you said got me in?"

"What about your perfect math SAT's, your charming interview, and your outstanding grades?" Daria asked. I nearly stopped dead in my tracks.

"And I didn't ask myself this question why?" I thought. That would have helped me in all my thoughts about Bromwell.

"You're still bothered by that, aren't you?" Daria asked, noticing my hesitation.

"It's been on my mind all summer." I admitted. "I couldn't shake it. It's caused me no end of problems."

I started to speak, but Daria spoke up first.

"Tom, before I met you, I could handle high school. I could deal with class, with the stupid students, the egotistical teachers, and all of that. I had a good friend in Jane and a few other close acquaintances and that's all I needed. Then you came along, and I realized just how much I could hurt other people."

"You were nervous, you didn't know what to do." I defended her.

"I'm not done." Daria continued. "Then we started dating and I realized something else. I realized how much more I could have. And after that was gone, it hurt so much I was scared to talk to you, scared that I'd run back to you, do anything to stop this heartache. And when I saw you moving on with your life, it was almost too much to take." It was a lot to take in. A little flattering, to be sure, but not the truth.

"Daria, that's not how it was with me." Daria looked at me.

"When we broke up, I went practically insane. I tried to move on, but nothing excited me anymore. Everything became such a chore, and it wasn't like I was getting any peace, what with Bromwell and my family and all. And then Elsie overdosed, and I realized something." I paused, and looked at Daria. She said nothing.

"When Elsie overdosed, everything was so automatic, I could barely even care. And it wasn't just because it was Elsie and her stupid moves."

"You were in shock. You didn't know how to feel." Daria replied. "At least you didn't panic."

"No, Daria, I realized I wasn't moving on, I was stuck. Daily life had become a burden. I couldn't bring myself to feel anything." I admitted to Daria what I had admitted to Jane. Like Jane, Daria paused and said nothing. But unlike Jane, Daria spoke a moment later.

"I never realized I hurt you that much." Daria sounded downcast again.

"How could you? All I did was pick fights."

"We really screwed each other up, didn't we?" Daria asked a rhetorical question, but I answered anyway.

"Yeah. But that means we care about each other. Isn't it the same way with your parents?" Daria smiled. From all the rescuing I pulled from Helen Morgendorffer, and the lovable eccentrics of Jake Morgendorffer, I knew that driving each other nuts was tradition for Daria's family.

As Daria and I spoke to each other, I felt the entire scenery fade away. There was only me and her. I could feel connected to Daria again, could feel just how hard she tried to get over the relationship, but couldn't. I felt moved, I wanted to help, what I couldn't feel with Elsie. I knew that, even with this closeness Daria and I were sharing, we would not get back together in a relationship. But I started to feel genuinely good about myself, and Daria. I had no desire to fight with her again. Our relationship didn't end because I was a failure, and it wasn't because she was a failure. It was my relationship with Jane all over again: we were just two different people. That was all, nothing complicated.

We sat in silence for a moment longer.

"You moved me." I told her. Daria didn't answer.

"I looked up to you. You did whatever you want, and had no pretense. It was easy to like you, It was easy to admire you."

"Thanks." Daria replied. "It was weird when you told me that the first time, but it felt really good. Tom, you inspired me, too."

"Huh?" I had never heard Daria praise me like this.

"I drifted through high school resenting most everything, rejecting everyone before they could reject me. But not you. You were the only one who refused to reject me. You threw yourself before me for Jane's sake, not your own. Every time I got nervous and messed up, you forgave me. Someone could harm you, and you could let it go. That was a lot more then I could ever do." It was a little embarrassing to be spoken of like this, but it felt really good.

"You know something, Daria, I'm glad you came out here. I think I can move on with my life now." I smiled. I don't think I smiled very much this summer. It felt...good.

"I do too." Daria stated, but this time I felt as though she meant it. It was about time we did.

"But moving on doesn't mean cutting ties. We should still be friends." I was hopeful in my statements.

"That does sound good. Is that pizza offer you made still good? Hope you're buying."

"It is, but there's a few things I need to do first." I replied. "I've still got another dragon to slay." Daria looked at me knowingly. Daria may have come to grips with her demons, but I still had one thing she could not help me with. And I think she knew what it was.

"Besides, you think my parents would let me go out looking like this? They'd kill me." I hadn't showered, shaved, combed my hair, or even looked in a mirror for four days. The only cleanliness thing I had done was brush my teeth.

"I'll call you when I'm ready, but expect it to be the day after I get back." I smiled. Daria smiled too, and went off. I would have expected a hug, but Daria was never comfortable with contact.

The last four days of camping felt like the first three, with one major difference. Before Daria, I was relaxed because I wasn't thinking about anything else. But now, I was thinking about other things, but I was still relaxed. I thought about Elsie, and Bromwell. Talking with Daria had broken the malevolent thoughts over my mind. The voice in my head blaming Daria had silenced itself, and my thoughts became hopeful. I knew that I would have to speak with my parents when I got back, but now, I was ready for anything. There was still some lingering doubts in my mind about Bromwell, but now I was ready to explain things fully to them. They would see, or I would make them.

When I got back home, I unpacked and immediately took a shower. There would be no reason for my mother to complain about being presentable. After grabbing some clean clothes and making myself look as they always wanted me, I found them in my dad's office.

"Tom, we were looking for you." Mom mentioned.

"I was just cleaning myself up. Indoor plumbing is a fantastic invention." I teased. Mom chuckled only briefly.

"So, tell me, what's going to happen to Elsie." I posed.

"We'll discuss that later, dear. Tom, your father and I want to talk to you about your attitude as of late." Mom noted.

"Oh." Although my spirits were high, my parents were good at quenching that. They were better then Dracula when it came to that.

"Tom, we've been discussing what you told me about Bromwell." Mom said.

"Maybe I wasn't explaining it as well as I thought." I started, but my father rose up his hand. His principal command for me to be silent.

"Your father and I discussed it, and we...we think we understand why you feel the way you do." Mom got out.

"Huh?" Now I was confused.

"Make no mistake, you should not have spoken to your mother that way." My father started sternly.

"Angier, I will handle this!" My mother sniped. My father quieted down. He could never stand up to my mother.

"Tom, I understand that you're worried you got into Bromwell for reasons other than your own merits." Mom started. She was very calm, not a hint of emotion registered in her eyes.

"Yes." I replied. "I want to go to Bromwell, but I only want to go if I deserved it."

"Tom, do you deserve it?" My father asked.

"I...I don't know."

"Tom, do you deserve it?" My father echoed. I thought about it for a moment.

"Yeah." I replied, but very softly. "I think I do. I did do well on other things."

"Good." My father replied. "Now I can tell you something. Tom, do you honestly think you're going to go through life without being judged?"

"No." I answered his question swiftly. "I don't mind being judged if I screw up, but to be judged..."

"Tom, there are people everywhere who will accuse you of these things. If it's not your ancestry, it's something else. When I was promoted over a co-worker, she told me the only reason I succeeded is because I was a man. I've been told I only succeeded because I was white. I've even been told it's because I'm good-looking."

"Good looking?" I asked.

"Oh, your father was so handsome when he was young." Mom put her arm around Dad in a loving way, something I only saw of them when they were in private.

"But anyway, Tom, you're going to encounter that all your life. The only way to stop that is to succeed." My father finished.

"Tom, you've already been accepted to Bromwell. That's not going to change."My mother started. I heard Trent's voice echo in my head. He had said that too.

"But what you do there is completely up to you. And when you succeed like I know you will, then all this nonsense talk of legacy will disappear." Mom finished. I considered what my parents had said. It made sense.

"Hmmm..." I thought.

"Tom, your father and I know you more then you give us credit for. You only want to be judged on your own merits. It's why you didn't do after-school activities at Fielding, and why you never come to the gallery fund-raisers. You just want to be Tom, not some poster boy child. And we understand that. That's why we never forced you to any of those affairs. We knew that even if you weren't around, you'd be doing the responsible thing. That was what we both wanted, to have children who could tell right from wrong even when they're not being watched." My mother's insight surprised me. How dense I thought she was, now she was knowing me better then I knew myself.

I didn't know what to say, really. I never imagined my parents would understand how I felt about these things.

"I'm going to head out. I promised Daria I'd meet her for pizza. But, I'll be back before long. We still have an entire month and Dad, you still have some days off work. There might be something we can all do."

"Daria? I thought you weren't seeing her." Mom asked.

"We're not going out." I replied. "But we're still friends." And I smiled, knowing I could finally believe the words.

"Your parents said that?" Daria asked me at once I saw her at Pizza Palace. I had informed her about my parents genuine insight.

"I wonder how long it will last." I joked. I wasn't about to tell Daria the more serious implications of my parent's insight. That was too personal.

"And I assume you told them about that night where you drank 5 martinis in the span of an hour and had to be hauled halfway across town. Unconscious. With your ex and her little sister."

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" I asked.

"Well, after 11 am on Moving Day, there might be something else to discuss." Daria teased.

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Hey!" Jane's voice sounded behind us. She took a seat without being invited next to me, Trent, also with her, took a seat next to Daria. I wondered if Daria told them we'd be here. Probably. Not that it mattered.

"So, you two are meeting together and no one is dead." Jane noted.

"Actually, we have killed each other." Daria jabbed.

"Our ghosts are haunting this booth." I eagerly joined in on the fun. "Two spirits eternally locked in a small pizza shop. Buy a pie for our hungry ghosts?"

"I wonder how much ectoplasm costs as a topping?" Never one to miss a joke, Jane eagerly finished.

"I will never get you three." Trent had a sheepish look on his face, as he normally did whenever our verbal sparring went over his head. But Jane was wearing an extremely confident smile, and I couldn't help but think my meeting with Daria, and indeed, much of this summer's attempts at reconciliation, was an elaborate plot set forth by Jane to help her two best friends get over themselves and stop acting like little bitches.

"Nah." I thought.

"Trent, go get the pizza." Jane ordered.

"Yes'm." Trent slaggered off to follow orders.

"He'll be back before college starts. I think." I noted on his slow pace.

"For Jane, maybe." Daria noted.

"More pizza for me." Jane took it all in stride. "It looks like you two had a fun week."

"Something like that." I told Jane. She'd learn all the details later, from Daria or me, if she didn't already. Trent returned with the pizza, and we all sat down to eat. I couldn't help but feel as though I was missing out on something precious. Here we were, four close friends eating pizza together, and I had missed out on it all summer because I was too busy moaning about things I couldn't change.

"Hey, Tom!" I heard a familiar voice. I turned to the door to see Quinn, flanked by her friends.

"Hey, Quinn." I smiled. "It's only Sunday. Our lesson is tomorrow." I wonder if Quinn noticed that I was admitting publicly that I was her tutor. But she ignored it.

"I know. I just wanted to make sure everything was on schedule and you weren't home, so I figured you guys would be here." I think Quinn wanted to say something more, but wouldn't. After all, her sister was two feet beside me.

"Hey, Quinn, wouldn't this make a great picture!" Quinn's friend Stacy replied.

"Yeah, I think it would. Do you guys mind?" Quinn asked. I looked to the others. Trent shrugged, Daria made no motions, and Jane looked at me as if I had grown a third head.

"Sure, why not." I stated for everyone, or maybe just for myself. Quinn took a seat next to me, and Stacy snapped the shot.

"I'll develop it tonight." Stacy seemed eager. "And Tom, if you ever want to pose like that statue of Apollo picture, just stop by Headshots. I'll be waiting for you."

"Bye!" Quinn bounded off with her friends towards another booth.

"Statue of Apollo?" Daria looked at me quizzically. It looks like she found something new to taunt me on.

"Not a word." I chuckled. "Not. A. Word."

"Daria?" I said. I was completely surprised to see her here. I wasn't expecting anyone, much less someone I knew, to come and find me here.

"What...what are you doing here?" I asked.

"Just taking in the view." She commented in her normal Daria monotone. I chuckled inwardly. I had briefly forgotten I was wearing nothing but my boots and my boxers.

"Well, if it's something fantastic you'd like to see, perhaps you can come into my tent." I flirted, something I normally didn't do with Daria, while tugging on the elastic waistband of my boxers.

"I might even still have that condom in my wallet." I teased.

"That would have expired by now." Daria delivered flatly.

"Then I don't have to bother looking for it."

"Tom..." Daria dismissed, indicating she was done with the joke.

"Relax, Daria." I had gotten my laugh in. It was time to get serious.

"You're probably wondering how I found you."

"There's only one way you could have gotten it." I replied. "The real questions are how did Quinn screw up and how much did you bribe her?"

"I overheard the first one as I passed by Quinn's door. As for the second, well, if you use the right words, you can get Quinn to say anything for free."

"I can't help but wonder if that's a compliment or an insult." I teased. Daria said nothing.

"So anyway, back to my question. Why are you here?"

"I came to see you?"

"That's pretty unusual. Unusual still to come here. Wouldn't Quinn have told you I'd be back in a week?"

"Tom." Daria pleaded. "I wanted to see how you were right now."

"Daria, you're acting strangely. I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" I posed, trying to play dumb. I think I knew what was coming next.

"Jane mentioned what happened to Elsie."

"Damn." I noted. "Well, let me get dressed." I rummaged around in my tent for some pants and a T-shirt. I brought out a cooler for Daria to sit on.

"There's really no need for concern, Daria. Elsie's fine."

"Don't pretend like this doesn't bother you." Daria stated. Having her accuse me of denying something always sounded harsher in her Daria voice.

"If we're playing the denial game, then why don't you tell me why you're here. You didn't come here to talk to me about Elsie." I posed. It was true, Daria spoke to Elsie even less then I had spoken to Quinn. At my insistence, of course. The last thing I wanted was for Elsie to potentially mess up Daria's life. Daria paused.

"Daria?" I probed.

"I've been thinking all summer. About us, about everything." Daria noted. "It's all I've been thinking about. I couldn't even concentrate on college."

"And what is it you've been thinking about?"

"Tom, ever since I met you, I realized just how awful I can be to people who care about me, even when I think I'm just being me."

"Hey, you had no reason to like me then." Something I had told her before. I had no interest in digging that up again.

"I meant Jane. When we first met, and when we kissed, I realized just how much I could hurt the people I cared about."

"We all do that. And Jane forgave us. I think, I mean, she hasn't come over punching me in the chest again." I kept my lighthearted facade up. "But I think you're getting off-track. Come on, Daria, tell me. What is it you needed to talk about?" Daria seemed almost relieved that I had called her on that.

"Tom, when we broke up, it hurt." She stated an obvious fact, something she knew well. Many things were going through my mind for responses.

"I know." Was the only thing I managed to get out.

"I told myself it was for the best. I still think it is." Daria stated. "I said we'd both move on, but months have passed and I'm still pretty hung up."

I paused, unsure of what to take from her words. Was this the revenge I wanted? Did I want her to pine for me. I looked up at Daria's face for the first time since we started talking, and I looked into her eyes. There was such sadness, such devastation, in her eyes. My heart broke again.

"I never realized how much this hurt you." I remarked.

"I didn't want you to. I know you Tom. Whenever someone hurts, you try to take it on yourself so they don't have to feel bad. You did it all the time in our relationship."

"I did that because I screwed up." I remarked. It was true, I had no shortage of insensitive comments, stupid remarks, and just out-and-out confusion about the minds of women. As much as I had dated, perhaps I thought I knew better then I did.

"No, Tom. You didn't screw up. We both screwed up. And I had a hard time admitting that to myself. I wanted to blame you for everything." Daria confirmed my suspicions. I said nothing about my assertions about Bromwell. This was not the time.

"You were right about Bromwell. I wanted to get in and I didn't." Daria vocalized my own thoughts.

"You are still smart enough. Daria, you're brilliant." I praised.

"I'm not as great as you think, Tom." Daria put herself down. My knee-jerk reaction was to protest, but I held my tongue.

"I had a bad interview, I had no extracurricular activities, and to top it off, my interview was botched." Daria noted. "I didn't have a chance in hell of getting in on the first try."

"You were waitlisted. You might make it in your junior year, you know. There are lots of people that do that." I noted, but as soon as I said it, I felt like an idiot.

"Wrong move, dipshit." I thought.

"Sorry."

"For what? People do that."

"We're not talking about admittance, we're talking about getting in. About us." I replied.

"Tom, I know I've told you this, but you deserve to get into Bromwell." She had told me this before. She said it in the same Daria voice she had told me before, but somehow, it felt different, much different then it was at Pizza Palace.

"What about the wing and the prestige?"

"What about your perfect math PSTAT's, your charming interview, and your outstanding grades?" Daria asked. I nearly stopped dead in my tracks.

"And I didn't ask myself this question why?" I thought.

"You're still bothered by that, aren't you?" Daria asked.

"It's been on my mind all summer." I admitted. "I couldn't shake it."

I started to speak, but Daria spoke up.

"Tom, before I met you, I could handle high school. I could deal wit h class, with the stupid students, the egotistical teachers, and all of that. I had a good friend in Jane and a few other close acquaintances and that's what I needed. Then you came along, and I realized just how much I could hurt other people."

"You were nervous, you didn't know what to do."

"I'm not done." Daria continued. "Then we started dating and I realized something else. I realized how much more I could have. And after that was gone, it hurt so much I was scared to talk to you, scared that I'd run back to you, do anything to stop hurting like that. And when I saw you moving on with your life, it was almost too much to take."

"Daria, that's not the case." I replied. Daria looked at me quizzically.

"I spent the whole summer going practically insane, barely able to function. I lashed out at everyone I cared about, and I started blaming you for it. It all fell apart when we broke up." Daria said nothing.

"I was getting over it, but my thoughts and how I felt scared me. When Elsie overdosed, everything was so automatic, I could barely even care."

"You were in shock. You didn't know how to feel." Daria replied. "At least you didn't panic."

"I wasn't moving on, I was stuck. Life had become hollow." I admitted to Daria what I had admitted to Jane. Like Jane, Daria paused and said nothing. But unlike Jane, Daria spoke a moment later.

"I never realized I hurt you that much." Daria sounded downcast again.

"How could you? All I did was fight with you."

"We really screwed each other up, didn't we?" Daria asked a rhetorical question.

"Yeah. But that means we care about each other. Isn't it the same way with your parents?" Daria smiled. From all the rescuing I pulled from Helen Morgendorffer, and the lovable eccentrics of Jake Morgendorffer, I knew that driving each other nuts was tradition for Daria's family.

As Daria and I spoke to each other, I felt the entire scenery fade away. There was only me and her. And I felt something, something I hadn't felt in a while. I knew that, even with this closeness Daria and I were sharing, we would not get back together in a relationship. But I started to feel genuinely good about myself, and Daria. Our relationship didn't end because I was a failure, and it wasn't because she was a failure. Our relationship ended because we were two friends who were attracted to each other, we weren't supposed to be lovers. That was all.

We sat in silence for a moment longer.

"You moved me." I told her. Daria didn't answer.

"I looked up to you. You did whatever you want, and had no pretense. It was easy to like you, once you stopped being so harsh."

"Thanks." Daria replied. "It was weird when you told me that the first time, but it felt really good. Tom, you inspired me, too."

"Huh?" I had never heard Daria praise me like this.

"I drifted through high school sniping and resenting most everything, rejecting everyone before they could reject me. But you didn't. You tried things before you rejected them, and were not afraid to get burned. Rejection meant nothing to you. That thought kept me sane during the summer." I found myself blushing. Rejection sucked, but a long time ago, I knew it didn't mean the end of the world.

"You know something, Daria, I'm glad you came out here. I think I can move on with my life now."

"I do too." Daria stated, but this time I felt as though she meant it.

"I still think we should keep in touch as friends. Being around you doesn't feel awkward anymore."

"That does sound good. Is that pizza offer you made still good? Hope you're buying."

"It is, but there's a few things I need to do first." I replied. "I've still got another dragon to slay." Daria looked at me knowingly. Daria may have come to grips with her demons, but I still had one thing she could not help me with.

"Besides, you think my parents would let me go out looking like this? They'd kill me." I hadn't showered, shaved, combed my hair, or even looked in a mirror for four days. The only cleanliness thing I had done was brush my teeth.

"I'll call you when I'm ready, but expect it to be the day after I get back." I smiled. Daria smiled too, and went off. I would have expected a hug, but Daria was never comfortable with contact.

The last four days of camping felt like the first three, with one major difference. Before Daria, I was relaxed because I wasn't thinking about anything else. But now, I was thinking about other things. I thought about Elsie, and Bromwell. Talking with Daria had broken the malevolent thoughts over my mind. The voice in my head blaming Daria had silenced itself, and my thoughts became hopeful. I knew that I would have to speak with my parents when I got back, but now, I was ready for anything. There was still some lingering doubts in my mind about Bromwell, but now I was ready to explain things fully to them. They would see, or I would make them.

When I got back home, I unpacked and immediately took a shower. There would be no reason for my mother to complain about being presentable. After grabbing some clean clothes and making myself look as they always wanted me, I found them in my dad's office.

"Tom, we were looking for you." Mom mentioned.

"I was just cleaning myself up. Indoor plumbing is a fantastic invention." I teased. Mom chuckled only briefly.

"So, tell me, what's going to happen to Elsie."

"We'll discuss that later, dear. Tom, your father and I want to talk to you about your attitude as of late."

"Oh." Although my spirits were high, my parents were good at quenching that. They were better then Dracula when it came to that.

"Tom, we've been discussing what you told me about Bromwell." Mom said.

"Maybe I wasn't explaining it as well as I thought." I started, but my father rose up his hand. His principal command for me to be silent.

"Your father and I discussed it, and we...we think we understand why you feel the way you do."

"Huh?" Now I was confused.

"Make no mistake, you should not have spoken to your mother that way." My father started sternly.

"Angier, I will handle this!" My mother sniped. My father quieted down. He could never stand up to my mother.

"Tom, I understand that you're worried you got into Bromwell for reasons other than your own merits." Mom started. She was very calm, not a hint of emotion registered in her eyes.

"Yes." I replied. "I want to go to Bromwell, but I only want to go if I deserved it."

"Tom, do you deserve it?" My father asked.

"I...I don't know."

"Tom, do you deserve it?" My father echoed. I thought about it for a moment.

"Yeah." I replied, but very softly. "I think I do. I did do well on other things."

"Good." My father replied. "Now I can tell you something. Tom, do you honestly think you're going to go through life without being judged?"

"No." I answered his question swiftly. "I don't mind being judged if I screw up, but to be judged..."

"Tom, there are people everywhere who do those things. If it's not your ancestry, it's something else. When I was promoted over a co-worker, she told me the only reason I succeeded is because I was a man. I've been told I only succeeded because I was white. I've even been told it's because I'm good-looking."

"Good looking?" I asked.

"Oh, your father was so handsome when he was young." Mom put her arm around Dad in a loving way, something I only saw of them when they were in private.

"But anyway, Tom, you're going to encounter that all your life. The only way to stop that is to succeed."

"Tom, you've already been accepted to Bromwell. That's not going to change." Echoes of what Trent told me at Pizza Palace floated through my mind as Mom said that.

" How you do there is completely up to you. And when you succeed like I know you will, then all this nonsense talk of legacy will disappear." Mom finished. I considered what my parents had said. It made sense.

"Hmmm..." I thought.

"Tom, your father and I know you more then you give us credit for. You only want to be judged on your own merits. It's why you didn't do after-school activities at Fielding, and why you never come to the gallery fund-raisers. You just want to be Tom, not some poster boy child. And we understand that. That's why we never forced you to any of those affairs. We knew that even if you weren't around, you'd be doing the responsible thing. What more could I ask for." My mother's insight surprised me. How dense I thought she was, now she was knowing me better then I knew myself.

I didn't know what to say, really. I never imagined my parents would understand how I felt about these things.

"I'm going to head out. I promised Daria I'd meet her for pizza."

"Daria? I thought you weren't seeing her." Mom asked.

"We're not going out." I replied. "But we're still friends." And I smiled, knowing I could finally believe the words.

"Your parents said that?" Daria asked me at once I saw her at Pizza Palace. I had informed her about my parents genuine insight.

"I wonder how long it will last." I joked. "So where does that lead us now?"

"And I assume you told them about that night where you drank 5 martinis in the span of an hour and had to be hauled halfway across town."

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" I asked.

"Well, after 11 am on Moving Day, there might be something else to discuss." Daria teased.

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Hey!" Jane's voice sounded behind us. She took a seat without being invited next to me, Trent, also with her, took a seat next to Daria.

"So, you two are meeting together and no one is dead." Jane noted.

"Actually, we killed each other." Daria jabbed. "Our ghosts are now haunting this booth."

"Or maybe we're just yanking your chain to get you to buy the pizza." I immediately joined in on the joke.

"Or one of each. I think Tom survived, Daria's more likely to come back as a ghost anyway." Jane eagerly joined in the fun.

"I will never get you three." Trent had a sheepish look on his face, as he normally did whenever our verbal sparring went over his head. But Jane was wearing an extremely confident smile, and I couldn't help but think my meeting with Daria, and indeed, much of this summer's attempts at reconciliation, were an elaborate plot set forth by Jane to help her two best friends get over themselves and stop acting like little bitches.

"Nah." I thought.

"Trent, go get the pizza." Jane ordered.

"Yes'm." Trent slaggered off to follow orders.

"He'll be back before college starts. I think." I noted on Tom's slow pace.

"For Jane, maybe." Daria noted.

"More pizza for me." Jane took it all in stride. "It looks like you two had a fun week."

"Something like that." I told Jane. Trent returned with the pizza, and we all sat down to eat. I couldn't help but feel as though I was missing out on something precious. Here we were, four close friends eating pizza together, and I had missed out on it all summer because I was too busy moaning about things I couldn't change.

"Hey, Tom!" I heard a familiar voice. I turned to the door to see Quinn, flanked by her friends.

"Hey, Quinn." I smiled. "It's only Sunday. Our lesson is tomorrow."

"I know. I just wanted to make sure everything was on point and you weren't home, so I figured you guys would be here." I think Quinn wanted to say something more, but wouldn't. After all, her sister was two feet beside me.

"Hey, Quinn, wouldn't this make a great picture!" Quinn's friend Stacy replied.

"Yeah, I think it would. Do you guys mind?" Quinn asked. I looked to the others. Trent shrugged, Daria made no motions, and Jane looked at me as if I had grown a third head.

"Sure, why not." I stated for everyone. Quinn took a seat next to me, and Stacy snapped the shot.

"I'll develop it tonight." Stacy seemed eager. "And Tom, if you ever want to pose like that statue of Apollo picture, just stop by Headshots. I'll be waiting for you."

"Bye!" Quinn bounded off with her friends towards another booth.

"Statue of Apollo?" Daria looked at me quizzically. It looks like she found something new to taunt me on.

"Not a word." I chuckled. "Not. A. Word."

I put on my good shoes, ironed a fresh pair of pants. I fastened my tie in a perfect half-Windsor knot. I regarded myself in the mirror.

"Perfectly presentable."I thought to myself. The word still sounded like a curse, although it didn't make me feel bitter like before. Nothing about me looked right. Those black shoes seemed to come untied at a moment's notice, wearing a belt tended to chafe my hips, and ties felt so weird around my neck. I remember someone had told me that hating to wear a tie means one was hanged in a previous life, but I never put stock in that crap. I hated to wear a tie because they were so damn silly.

"I cannot believe I am doing this." I thought to myself. I'm not sure what convinced me to come to Mom's fund-raiser. It was only two weeks before school started, and I honestly had other things I wanted to do. But, as much as I wouldn't admit it aloud, I did have the time. There would be plenty of time to see Jane and look at more of her art. Trent would have others gigs before I left, and, being that it was a Friday, I didn't have to tutor Quinn.

"Oh yeah, I remember why. Because you bargained for a deal." I reminded myself. Mom had asked me to attend the fund-raiser, and, unlike my usual denials, I asked her for a favor.

"Sure, I'll come." I had told her. "I'll even be the good little host so you don't have to do it all the time. But there's something else I wanted." I had promised that I would spend time with the family, and indeed, I did. During Dad's extra week off of work, I helped Mom prepare the new gallery, and my father and I learned many card games. I was surprised by his excellent poker face, and lost many hands against him. All the while, I enjoyed the time spent together. But family together time did not involve multitudes of people, and I figured I could leverage something out of the deal if I was coming to the gallery.

"How did you convince me to do this?" Daria asked me. I met her at her house so that her parents could follow me to the gallery. Despite attending the gallery event, she was dressed in the same outfit as always. I wondered if she had no formal clothes. But the thought of Daria with high-styled hair horrified me enough so that the thought never stayed in my head for long.

"You were forced by your mother, and you didn't have anyone to help bail you out." I reminded. For my attendance, I was able to successfully negotiate my mother into inviting the Morgendorffer's to the opening, free of charge. Despite Mom's legendary greed when it came to that gallery, I think part of her wanted to meet Daria's parents, and t hat was the clincher.

"Think about all the good things that could happen. Your father trying to get some clients, your mother talking with the highball crowd she loves, Quinn pretending like she's some sort of art model." I regarded Daria. She stared at me as if she was two seconds away from snapping my neck.

"Stay for a half hour, then we'll find a place you can sleep off the rest of the event." I noted.

"Thank you." Daria replied. "What made you go to this event? I thought you hated the gallery."

"You asked me that question the second your parents told you they were going. And you've asked me seven times since then." I replied, not actually answering the question. Daria already knew I used mercenary tactics that would make her proud to score her family tickets, and I was merely obliging my end of the bargain, but somehow, admitting that to her felt like a defeat. Maybe she would call me elitist again.

"And hey, it's not my fault Jane didn't bail you out." I reminded. Daria shut up with that one. Jane had taken Trent to a gig upstate and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. When Daria told me that, I, truthfully, had no idea about it, and Mom had been planning on this day for at least two months. Daria didn't fight with me anymore about it. I was surprised at how well we were getting along. We'd argue non-seriously, the fights more a testing ground for our word snipes then any sort of game of pride.

"It's not perfect, and I suppose we still have some resentments towards each other. But hey, at least we're friends again." I thought, and I'm sure Daria felt the same way.

"Daria!" Helen stood at the doorway. "It's time to leave."

Once we reached the gallery, it was easy enough to find Mom. She and Dad were chatting up some guests that I had never met.

"Oh, Tom, there you are." Mom noted.

"We're not late." I replied. All of the family Morgendorffer was behind me, and I watched silently as my family dispensed with the introductions.

"So, Dad, Mr. Morgendorffer is a freelance marketing consultant." I expertly steered the conversation, making sure to leave nothing open-ended and let Jake Morgendorffer go off on a tangent. They had just gotten here; his eccentrics couldn't be blamed on the open bar this early.

"Why, yes, Tom did mention that, Jake. I know a few people who were thinking of altering their marketing plans. Why don't I introduce them to you so they can get a new perspective."

"Lead the way!" Mr. Morgendorffer still seemed rather excitable while Dad led him off to some other guests, but thankfully seemed tamer then usual.

"Why, Katherine, that is such a lovely brooch." Mrs. Morgendorffer complimented.

"Why, thank you. And please, just Kay, if I may call you Helen." Mom and Mrs. Morgendorffer started conversing. I looked around to notice that Quinn had already disappeared, leaving me and Daria alone.

"That could have ended a lot differently." I noted with a slight chuckle to Daria.

"Oh, just wait. Give it an hour and someone will be drowned in the punch bowl."

"It's rum punch, I think. At least they won't feel anything. Want to check out the gallery."

"I'm just counting the minutes until I can drift off to Dreamland." Daria, blunt as always, noted.

"I know, it's not your thing. It's not mine either, but at least your family gets to have fun. And you were getting sick of warmed up frozen lasagna anyway." Daria still didn't seem amused.

"Relax, I know which rooms they aren't using. I'll let you out on the balcony where there's some lawn furniture you can sleep on." Daria didn't say anything as I led the way.

"You're going to work the room?" Daria asked after I started to leave.

"Yeah, that's what I promised." I replied. Daria nodded, although she did seem a little down. Was that just me, or did she want me to stay with her, alone? Even for me, that might have been a little awkward.

The party was every bit as boring as I imagined it to be. The pretense, the posturing, the desperate attempts at one-upmanship and alpha pack crap between rich people. But I smiled, I conversed. I racked my mind of everything I knew about art, which wasn't much. I cared more for the struggle to attain true art rather then the names of dead people. But my little bit of knowledge seemed to impress these sycophants, and I found myself inwardly laughing at the sheer stupidity of it. It was just like the cliques of high school.

"Wow, that depresses me more then I thought." I quietly noted. I wondered what the real world would be like. Hopefully not like that. When I decided I had enough posturing for a few minutes, I turned to look for a familiar face, and saw my mother and Mrs. Morgendorffer still talking. Had they been doing that the whole time? Probably not, but they seemed to be having a good time. I moved in closer to eavesdrop on their conversation, eager to hear what all the excitement was about.

"Tom has been so good to my girls. A boyfriend for my eldest and a tutor for my youngest. He was exactly what my girls needed." Mrs. Morgendorffer was praising me, and I found myself uncomfortable. People only usually praised me when they wanted something.

"Well, that's Tom, he's always a giver. But your daughter is such a lovely girl, and so intelligent. It's easy to see why Tom liked her." Mom started to praise Daria. I had told her not to mention Raft or Bromwell at all this night, and I was hoping she remembered not to cause a problem like that. But Mrs. Morgendorffer steered the topic elsewhere, and I didn't hear them bring it up.

As I listened to their praise, I started to remember what Elsie had said to me.

"All they ever talk about is Tom." Was what she had said to me. I at first dismissed the thought: Mom wasn't discussing Elsie just because Mrs. Morgendorffer had never met her. It was the same with Quinn; there was some context to mention her with, but Mom had never met Quinn before tonight. But as the night drug on, I heard my mother talk to other people. Like Mrs. Landon had told me months ago, mothers loved to talk about their children. When I heard my mother speak, I realized that, although I didn't want to believe it myself, the only child my mother discussed was me. All of my accomplishments laid bare, told through the mouth of a proud mother. There was no mention of Elsie at all.

"There's nothing to discuss about Elsie." Was my first thought. After all, what would Mom mention, that Elsie survived an overdose? That Elsie would be attending rehab in September? But there was more to it then that. I didn't sense any malice on the part of my mother, but I could definitely sense why Elsie would feel neglected.

"And it's not your fault, but you feel anyway." I thought. "You're either very kind or a complete chump." I continued to mingle with the guests, but now I was distracted.

"Hey, Tom!" I heard Quinn call over to me. She certainly seemed to be having a good time here. I always figured she'd be more comfortable at a venue like this, with all these fancy people talking about nothing. Even though Quinn was trying to improve herself, she still had a long way to go to ditch the old Quinn.

"Are you having a good night." Quinn and I stepped outside, away from the noise of the party.

"These aren't really my kind of thing, but I suppose you have to do them on occasion. Your father seems to be enjoying himself." I answered. Mr. Morgendorffer was extremely animated talking with some of Dad's associates, although I'm not sure what it had to do with marketing plans.

"Oh, that's just Dad." Quinn dismissed playfully. She was used to her father's antics.

"And you?" I posed.

"It's...it's fun. I wish I knew more about art, though."

"Trust me, you already know more then they do. They quote names and dates and think themselves afficionados. A day watching Jane is more knowledge then these people will ever have." We took in the night sky for a moment.

"Ummm...Tom?" Quinn turned towards me, and she seemed nervous. She fidgeted a lot, her hair starting to fall out of place. I remained silent, completely clueless as to her intentions.

"Thanks." She finally got out.

"For tutoring?" I asked. "No big deal."

"Not just that." Quinn's nervousness seemed to disappear, and I wondered if she was changing the subject. "I mean thanks for showing me what I could do. I mean, I started seeing Jeffy at those shows he did and I figured out why he was doing so well, and then when I came over to Headshots to help out Stacy she followed my advice and she got a lot of great pictures."

"You see. It wasn't too bad." I replied. The topic faded, and Quinn's nervousness returned. She started to speak again, but became hesitant and nervous again. I think I knew what was on her mind, and I think I knew what had to be done.

"Quinn, I liked getting to know you this summer. You've changed a lot and bettered yourself. Before you were just Daria's flaky sister, but now you've got a brain and you're not afraid to use it. You'll do well your senior year of high school and then you'll go to college, real college, not some stupid party school. And I want you to keep in touch with me, and let me know how you are doing. Quinn, you're a wonderful friend." I showered her with flattering words. Quinn's reaction was a quiet mix of relief, gratitude, and even a bit of confusion.

"Thanks." Quinn mentioned silently, as I rejoined the party inside.

I think I had an idea what Quinn was about to say to me. I had seen many women act that way around me. They were going to confess feelings for me. Although I did like to make the first move, it was awfully flattering when girls did so with me. But I wasn't about to go through it with Quinn. Ignoring the fact that she and I had less in common then Daria, I figured that Quinn was confused and unable to properly articulate what she wanted to say. I don't think she felt any sort of love for me. She held me and my knowledge in high regard. She appreciated the things I showed her. Perhaps she even had a bit of lust for me. But none of that was love. I didn't love Quinn romantically either, I just respected her ambition, her desire to grow, and her willingness to look at herself and acknowledge what was wrong with herself and change it. I thought of Quinn as a friend, and honestly, I didn't want to screw that up by turning it into a relationship. I'd already done it with my past two relationships, and maybe that was part of my own problem. God knew I moved from girlfriend to girlfriend quickly. I had been single for all of two days before I hooked up with Jane, and before that, even less. My record was four hours. Perhaps I needed some solo time before I took on that responsibility.

"And besides, don't you have another relationship you want to attempt to repair before you leave for Bromwell?" My conscience told me. I nodded silently at it. I did. I had patched things up with Daria, mended the rift with my parents, and prevented a problem with Quinn. I just had one other person to deal with. Although, unlike the other relationships, I had no idea what I wanted out of this one.

The next day, I set out bright and early for a drive. I was going to visit my Aunt Adrian, my mother's sister, and the black sheep of the family. My mother and Aunt Adrian did not get along very well. I didn't fully understand the reason, but I managed to learn that it all started with my Uncle Keith's death. My mother grew reclusive and couldn't bear to talk about him, while Aunt Adrian was driven by it. She followed him into the military, even serving in the Gulf War. The last time I saw Aunt Adrian was at the family wedding several months ago, but before that, it had been years.

As much as Mom disliked her, though, Aunt Adrian was tough as nails, strict as hell, and never took no for an answer. She was the disciplinarian of the family, indeed, for our whole Sloane clan. She was the person to send the problematic Elsie too. I had called to make sure that I would be permitted to visit, and to my surprise, she encouraged it. I wondered what that could mean.

"You have no clue, and yet you're going to do it anyway. Aunt Adrian was tough with you all the time the rare times you saw her. What makes you think this will be any different?" I wondered to myself, but drowned the thoughts out with driving. This was worth doing.

"Thomas. You're late." Aunt Adrian reprimanded the second I knocked on the door.

"Good to see you, Aunt Adrian." I ignored her. There would be no end to the insults the more we spoke.

"I am here to see Elsie. Where is she?" I asked her, in no mood for backtalk, although I was certain I'd get a lot of it.

"Watch your mouth." She cautioned. "You ever hear of saying please?" I did not answer her, and instead looked at her with a cold stare.

"She was cleaning the bathroom upstairs. I'll get her." Aunt Adrian marched up the steps while I took a seat at the table. Elsie returned a minute later.

"May I get back to my chores?" She asked my aunt. Normally, Elsie would never be that polite to anyone, only my aunt would garner such discipline.

"No. Your brother came to see you. You will sit down and speak with him." Aunt Adrian's orders were flat, as she excused herself.

"Why are you here? Have you come to gloat before you leave for college. Go right ahead." Elsie dared.

"Elsie, I came to see how you were."

"Your faux concern is so pleasant." Elsie faked a smile as she jabbed me with her sarcasm. I wasn't going to get provoked.

"Listen, Elsie, I'm leaving for college in two weeks and I don't want things to be like this." I wouldn't dream of admitting weakness in front of Elsie. We were close in childhood, but extremely competitive, as most siblings were. We always had to be the best at something.

"Did you want me to say thank you for finding me?" Elsie prodded.

"No. I wanted to say that I think I understand how you felt. About Mom and me getting all the glory. I went to the fund-raiser last night and that's all Mom talked about." Elsie didn't say anything. She was never used to be agreeing with her, or even speaking seriously to her. It was even surprising for me not to get a stomachache whenever Elsie's name was mentioned.

"I'm not responsible for it." I continued. "And I'm not responsible for you starting on what you did."

"So what was the point in coming here?" Elsie was annoyed.

"Look, Elsie, I'm not going to apologize for anything, I'm blameless in this. But I don't want you to just be hating me your whole life just because I succeeded at things. It had nothing to do with you."

"Whatever you intended, that's what happened." Elsie returned. It seemed she wasn't going to give an inch. So I stopped thinking for a moment. Stopped turning this into another one of our sibling rivalries, and I started to speak from the heart.

"Elsie, if it truly bothers you that much that I succeeded, why didn't you just make your own successes?" I posed a serious question, one that, I hoped, Elsie wouldn't just deflect childishly. Elsie didn't answer right away, which made me a bit thankful. Perhaps she was considering it.

"I tried." She replied. "I tried, but it wasn't good enough. I can't study like you. I can't dance like you. And I can't even rebel like you."

"Were you really bothered by how well I did at school?" I asked. It almost seemed redundant to ask, but the answer here would be very important. Elsie looked like she was about to answer, but then she looked straight into my eyes before she spoke, and my stare took the words away. I stared at her as fiercely as I could, like Aunt Adrian did when she gave orders, like Uncle Sebastian at the chessboard. Like Jane at a painting. Like Daria whenever she saw an injustice. Elsie didn't speak for another moment.

"You abandoned me." She looked down at the ground at she said it, her voice soft.

"Huh?"

"You didn't need me." She stated. Need Elsie? I thought things over in my head before I came to what I thought was the conclusion.

"You mean when we were younger." I stated not as a question, but a fact. When we were younger, Elsie and I were inseparable. She always followed my commands as we played, and we could play for hours on end. When we played, our parents would barely watch us, Mom reading silently on the porch, making the occasional glance towards the back yard. When we were playing as kids, Elsie and I were free. But when we grew up, I did, indeed, drift away from her. She was less a playmate and more a whiny little obligation. In truth, the first time I went to the Zon was when I was trying to get away from her. Eventually, she just stopped trying as she got older.

I had thought it was just age. It was true, I didn't need her. How was I supposed to answer that one? I couldn't just lie and say I did need her; she'd see right through it.

"Necessity or not, I don't hate you. I never have, Elsie. We just grew up and drifted apart. That's natural, no one's fault." Elsie didn't reply to me, which surprised me. I would have expected sarcastic swipes. I probably would have were our positions reversed.

"Anyway, you're not giving yourself enough credit. You still have your faux jadedness and attitude even after staying with Aunt Adrian for a week. I probably would have turned into a drone." I noted. Elsie chuckled. Was it satisfaction? Was it a badge of honor? I didn't know.

"Time's up." Aunt Adrian returned to the room. "Back to work, Elsie. You need to get that toilet spotless by 1300. Get on it, ASAP!" Elsie went back upstairs, and Aunt Adrian took a seat.

"It took a lot of balls to come here." She noted. I chuckled. Years of Army life had made her crude as a club, but it always made me laugh to hear her talk like that. Only on the inside of course; laughter would have made her angry.

"I wouldn't have the chance otherwise." I noted. "Besides, I wanted to do it. I would have come even if you didn't let me."

"You are a lot like Keithy, you know." Aunt Adrian admitted, the first time I had ever seen her speak softly. "He said that no one is perfect, but a soldier does all he can no matter what it does to himself." I didn't know how to respond to that. I never knew Uncle Keith, and Aunt Adrian never put stock in the past. I probably would never learn.

"I just did what I figured was right. I wonder if I got through to her." I mused aloud.

"If you're talking to me, you should look at me directly, and if you're musing, keep it quiet." Aunt Adrian ordered, returning to her normal tone.

"And anyway, you did. You got through to her before you came here. All she ever talks about is Tom. You might be able to set her right in time." I thanked Aunt Adrian, and then left. I wanted to get back home so I could meet Daria for pizza. But when I glanced back up at Aunt Adrian's house before leaving, I saw Elsie, watching me leave, from one of the windows. I used my free hand to wave out the window, and Elsie immediately ducked out of sight.

As I drove back home, I knew my summer was over. I had only two weeks to get ready for Bromwell, and their five-day orientation before any actual classes started. So much had changed over the course of these few months, and so much more would change. But now I had nothing tying me down back at home.

"Here comes a new type of Sloane, Bromwell."

My dorm room at Bromwell didn't amount to much. It was about the size of my old room at home, maybe a little smaller. Excepting the fact that I shared it with someone. It seemed as though I was the first one to arrive, however.

I didn't have much to unpack, and I told Mom and Dad I didn't need any help doing so once all the heavy stuff was hauled up, so they left to tour the campus. I didn't bring much, just clothes, my computer, and an alarm clock. I really wasn't sure how much space I would be using, not to mention what kind of roommate I'd get. I'd spent the whole summer fretting over Daria that I didn't even consider rooming with a complete psychopath, or worse, a trust-fund smug blue blood.

"I don't think that urban legend about roommate death will get you off the hook." I thought. None of my family, Bromwell-educated or no, had ever told me stories about their roommates, so I assumed they merely lost contact after college.

"Hey, so I'm not the first to arrive." I heard a voice from the door. A young man, presumably my roommate, entered. He was taller then I was, with short blonde hair and muscular. He was probably an athlete. He came alone to his room much as I did.

"Hey there." He smiled at me. "My name's Alex. Alex Taylor. I'm a business major."

"Tom Sloane." I introduced, declining to mention my major. Who knew if I would stick with it. I noticed that he had the same first name as my grandfather, who came to Bromwell and told story after story. Off-kilter ones that made the more prudish members of my family blush, but I did enjoy them.

"Sloane..." Alex trailed off as if he had heard that name before. I remained quiet for a minute.

"Isn't there a wing on the science building with that name?" He asked. That was indeed correct. For a second, I didn't know how to respond. If it had been before my trip here with Daria, I would have readily agreed. During the summer, I would have denied it.

Now, though, I think I knew what to say.

"I've heard that." I replied. "But it's got nothing to do with me." My delivery was about as flat as Daria's, but there wasn't the usual coldness that usually accompanied her voice. Alex didn't answer immediately.

"Good answer." Alex replied. "I knew I had heard it before, and I care surprisingly little about people's personal pasts. You have nothing to fear from me." I shrugged, and chuckled silently. This wouldn't be too bad, I thought. I returned to my unpacking.

It was easy to keep in contact with everyone. Even I didn't think cell phones would take off like they did, but sure enough, it seemed like everyone had one. Jane and I often spoke to each other, and Quinn, true to her word, called frequently. But Daria I heard very little from. She was having more trouble adjusting to college then I did, which didn't surprise me. Daria viewed college merely as a continuing education, and I had looked forward to freedom. But we spoke or wrote e-mails frequently, talking about our lives. I never asked about boyfriends, and neither did she ask about girlfriends, not that I had any to brag about: I avoided any sort of romantic entanglement; I wasn't ready for that again.

I didn't see Daria again until October. Jane and I had arranged for me to come to Boston so that I could help her move into BFAC and celebrate. Besides being Jane's move in day, my birthday was a week away. When I got off of the bus from New Town, Daria was waiting for me, just like we arranged. She looked the same as ever, not that I expected an address change would alter Daria's looks.

"You look well." I noted.

"And so do you." Daria led me to BFAC. Jane hadn't arrived yet, but we knew where she would drive up too, and we could handle the rest.

"How is Bromwell?" Daria asked, a question she never asked me before.

"It's not too bad. The professors are smart but stuffy, the students are bored and trust-fund types, and I'm pretty sure some students got in through blackmail." I chuckled. I avoided any mention of legacy, although, for the life of me, I was pretty sure some of the students only got in for that.

"And Raft?"

"It's not really challenging, but the lessons are interesting, assuming the teacher's can stay on topic and avoid preaching their political opinion."

"Your in the English department, it's known for that." I reminded.

"The students are drunk and obnoxious, although thankfully, my roommate goes over to their places to party." Daria furthered.

"Does she call you her cabana girl?" I teased. Daria got a small smile.

"But other then that I think I'm benefitting from it." Daria finished, not answering the question I wanted to ask.

"Any...err...boyfriends." I wanted to avoid the use of the word boyfriend, it sounded so silly and trite, like high school flames. But I knew the word 'lover' would make Daria more uncomfortable.

"Scared, are you?" Daria smelled weakness, and preyed upon it.

"I'm just asking. It's all a part of keeping track of each others lives." Daria seemed to accept my answer.

"No." She replied. "There isn't anyone that interests me. I have met some good people who drag my unwilling ass to parties, and some of them are men, but that's about it." Daria's delivery was flat, and I had no reason to expect differently.

"Was it the answer you were hoping for?" Daria asked, not as a challenge, but as a genuine query.

"Yes." I answered truthfully. "Because it is your decision." Daria seemed a little surprised by my reaction. We sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment longer, watching the road for signs of Jane.

"And what about you, Tom?" Daria posed. "Do you have a...uh..." Daria hesitated, which didn't happen often.

"Girlfriend? Amour? Passionate sweaty affair?" I teased.

"Tom..." Daria took on the tone that told me she wasn't amused.

"I haven't wanted one." I admitted. "I've thought about it, but honestly, there's no one there worth my time. After you and Jane, it would be like going on generic medicine after having brand name. Sure it cures the headache, but you can tell you've just had cheap quality parts." Daria blushed and tried to avert her gaze so that I wouldn't see her embarrassed.

"Hey, I think I see Jane." Daria pointed, eager to change the conversation. Sure enough, ger car started coming up towards us.

"Long time no see." Jane came up and hugged us both. "Now come on, carry-slaves, we've got work to do."

BFAC's dorms were so much nicer then ours. It's small size and extremely high standards seemed to entail getting artist-style lofts much like the ones in New York. And Jane had it all to herself.

"I want one of these. My roommate's pretty cool, but the idea of free space and not sharing is attempting. At least when you consider all the vile things someone can do to you while you sleep." I commented. Jane didn't bring most of her art to BFAC with her, which didn't surprise me. Jane was a creature governed by her passions, and such passions rarely lasted. But I was still proud of the pieces she did bring.

"And to think to get all this required a summer of suffering and worry." Jane noted.

"Come on, I'm hungry, and you're unpacked. Let's get eating." I directed. Daria seemed to agree.

"So, Tom, are your parents coming up for your birthday?" Jane asked me once we took a seat at Daria's favorite pizza place.

"Jane, you bailed me out of my last two birthdays, remember." I reminded. "I strongly doubt it."

"Yeah, wouldn't want a silly family event to get in the way of investment banking and country club mixers." Daria commented. I thought she was being a little harsh, but I let it go. Both of my parents made it a point to call. From what I learned, home was much the same as always, although it seemed as though Elsie was doing a little better in school. Because of not being on the drugs, or the extra attention, was a question that came to my mind often. But the results were important to me.

"And speaking of birthday's, here Tom, it's my present." Jane handed me a small wrapped rectangular package, about the size of my forearm.

"Open it now, you lug." She prodded. I opened it, and saw my mind flashing back to a few months ago. Staring back at me was the picture Quinn's friend had taken at the pizza place. It seemed Jane had somehow gotten the copy, and turned film into canvas. I saw Trent's slight smirk, Daria's Mona Lisa smile, Jane's look of satisfaction, Quinn's eager happiness, and my own face. Jane had painted me before as a vision of loneliness and despair. In the painting, though, I looked pleased, and I remembered back to just a few months ago, where Tom Sloane was a person he hated, a base creature driven by hatred, hurt, and rage.

"It's a good picture." I kept my true feelings to myself.

"And now I've got to try and top that. Thanks a lot." Daria's cynical sarcasm brought me to reality.

Someone once told me that when there is a sense of finality lingering overhead, people become truer to themselves. I don't remember if it was someone famous or someone paraphrasing to pretend that, but it seemed true to me. My last summer in Lawndale was plagued with many things: doubt and misery driving me to hate everything, including myself, bringing myself face to face with the abyss, staring into it and seeing a monster called Tom. But I was able to accept him, and destroy him, letting go of what the universe took from me, and trying to heal the echoes of my heart. And I realized all those who helped me, get me through that one fateful summer. Without any of them, I might not have made it to Bromwell. And that's was something I could keep forever.

The End