"Daria" is owned and copyrighted by MTV. All rights reserved.
This is *not* an episode, but the best imitation of an episode
that I could write.  Thanks to the creators of "Daria" for
providing so much rich material for fanfics....


This is the sixteenth episode of The Driven Wild Universe and
my eigteenth overall.  It follows 1) "Rose-Colored Lenses,"
2) "The Tie That Chokes," 3) "That Thing You Say," 4) "'Shipped
Out," 5) "Andrea Speaks!", 6) "Cheered Down," 7) "None in the
Family, Part One," 8) "None in the Family, Part Two," 9) "Outvoted,"
10) "Of Absolute Value," 11) "Breaking the Mold," 12) "Surreal
World," 13) "Erin the Head," 14) "Primarily Color," and 15)
"The Age of Cynicism."

[Okay, disclaimer needed!  This is only my *seventeenth*
fanfic overall, not my eighteenth, as "The Age of Cynicism"
has only been *partially* written.  So why do I insist on
listing it amongst my other fics as #15?  Because long ago
I determined the order in which my fics would appear, and I
had reasons for feeling it would not work juxtaposed against
#17 or #19.  (Plus, I'd already done the Ten Spot Promo...
Hmm, makes me wonder whether *I* ought to use the excuse I
offered to John Berry in "Of Absolute Value." ; >)  TAOC
probably won't arrive until after I've written #19, but it
*will* arrive.  All my fanfics shall be accounted for.
Until then, I've left a short teaser for it in my
Postscript. ; >]

Once again, this title is a pun on the title of a superior,
far more famous work:  Tennyson's "The Charge of the Light
Brigade" (1854).  That poem was about a brigade of British
cavalrymen, set during the Crimean War.  It has almost
nothing to do with the subject of this fanfic... but hee-hee,
I just love title puns... ; >

I give it a 2S...

And because the second half of Season Four is airing, I
must offer a reminder: Quinn, as she appears in this fic,
is the result of careful build-up, stretched out over a year,
in my continuum.  If you try to connect her smoothly to how
she comes across in Season Four, some things *obviously* won't
fit.  That said........... Enjoy!!!


Ten Spot Promo:  That guy sits on the toilet lid, cutting his
toenails as the clock counts to 10.  Yeeeeeeech.


[intro theme music...................]

CHARGE OF THE MATH BRIGADE -- by Kara Wild


ACT ONE

SCENE 1 (Lawndale High, during class)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to shot of the inside of Mr.
Phelps's classrooom.  The period is nearly over, and instead
of working, the students are huddled together, talking.
Or rather, they're huddled around Quinn, talking about her.
Quinn absorbs the attention with one of her typical serene
smirks.)

TIFFANY: (shocked, for her)  No waaaaaaaaay.

QUINN:  *Way*.

STACY:  Omigod, Quinn.  *Omigod*!

SANDI:  Whoa -- contacts.  Like, are you *sure*??

QUINN:  Of *course* I'm sure!  My eye doctor, like, called
me the other day and said that a bunch of scientist guys
invented this new type of lens -- one that could *handle*
my type of astigmatism.

STACY:  Oh Quinn, I'm so *happy* for you!!!  (does an excited
clap.)

QUINN:  So within a few months, you could be looking at the
new and *improved* Quinn.

(She eyes Sandi a trifle nervously as she says these last words,
waiting for a response.  But Sandi just cocks a brow.)

JOEY:  Wow, so now I have *another* reason to love you.

JEFFY:  Not *me*.  *I* love you no matter *what* you wear.
(Bt.  conceding)  But it *is* nice that you're getting contact
lenses.

TIFFANY:  Contacts make *such* a difference.  If I, like,
didn't wear *mine*, people... would think... I was... an Asian
... math *brain*.

STACY:  Ewwww!  At least when you get contacts, people will
stop thinking *you're* a math brain, Quinn.

(Quinn goes a little pale and chuckles uneasily.)

TIFFANY:  You must be soooooo *embarrassed*.

QUINN:  Uh...

(The bell rings.  With that, everyone but Quinn and Sandi
springs up from their seats and flees the room.  Still noticeably
pale, Quinn turns around to face Sandi.)

QUINN: (trying not to sound nervous)  So, Sandi... um, do you
think I should get *blue* contacts for coordination purposes?
Or, um, green ones, or should I forgo colors completely?

(Pause)

SANDI: (cryptic)  Hmmmmmmm...

(But before she can state an opinion, Mr. Phelps walks up and
stands behind them.)

PHELPS:  Ms. Morgendorffer?  May I have a word with you,
please?

QUINN: (turning around abruptly)  But um... I'll be late for
my next class.  (weak chuckle.)

PHELPS: (raising a brow)  Since when do *you* care about being
on time?

(Quinn frowns at his presumptuousness, then wilts, as he has
a point.  She turns back to look at Sandi, but finds that she's
disappeared.  With a weary, yet not terribly resistant
expression, she faces the teacher with whom she has worked
intensely for several weeks.)

PHELPS: (sitting on the desk beside her)  This will only take
a minute.  It's about your current academic standing in my
classroom.

QUINN:  All *right*, all right, tell me the truth.  I'm not
doing well, *okay*??

PHELPS:  Well you --

QUINN: (melodramatic)  Go ahead.  Do your *worst*.  You can't
hurt me, anymore.  (gestures at her eyes.)

PHELPS:  Yes, I've heard the newest contact lenses have special
anti-teacher reflectors.

QUINN: (thought VO)  *Funny*.

PHELPS: (hint of a smirk)  I'll be gentle with you.  Believe
it or not, all of the hard work we've put in together has
garnered results.

QUINN: (wary)  How so?

PHELPS:  You're *above* the minimum needed to pass my class.

QUINN:  I am??

PHELPS:  Yes, but --

QUINN: (hopping up)  You mean the slavery's *over*?!
(cheery.)  Not that I haven't enjoyed working with you,
or anything, but it was, y'know, *work*.  And I'd just as
soon do something else.  (turns toward the door.)  Wait'll
I tell Stacy and Tiffany that I don't have to--!

PHELPS: (folding his arms)  So you're ready to *end* it all,
are you?

(Beat)

QUINN: (wary... She *knows* that tone of voice.)  Why not?
What *else* can you put me thr-I mean, what else is there
for me to do??

PHELPS: (even-toned)  You really thought this entire experience
was terrible.  You derived absolutely *no* pleasure from it.

QUINN: (thought VO)  O-kayyyyyy.  (aloud.)  Nope.

PHELPS:  Didn't you?

(Something in Phelps's gaze makes Quinn reveal a nanosecond
of different feeling.  She wilts again.)

PHELPS: (dryly amused, smirking a bit)  Ah Ms. Morgendorffer,
the way you resist *anything* that challenges your thinking
never fails to amaze me.

QUINN: (thought VO)  Same with *your* stupid way of always
thinking you can, like, see *through* me.  (aloud, pleasant.)
That's *not* true.  I'd *die* without any challenges.  Like
being President of the Fashion Club gives me new problems every
week --

PHELPS: (directing her to sit down)  And so might being part
of a *different* club.  Which is why I signed you up.

QUINN: (frowning a little)  *Signed* me up??

PHELPS:  Yes.  (Bt)  For the mathletics squad.

(Quinn's eyes become saucers and her mouth drops open.)

QUINN:  With all the *freaks*?!

PHELPS:  With the *other* mathletes, yes.

QUINN:  But-but *why*?!

PHELPS:  Students who participate in mathletics receive
*extra* credit in my class.  I thought you might want to
do as well as possible.  *And* it would be a good way for
you to hone your newly-acquired skills.

QUINN: (helpless)  But I don't want... I mean I *said*, but --!

PHELPS: We've got only four more tournaments 'til the season
concludes. At the very least, do attend one of our practices.
(raises a brow.)  You could *always* walk away later.

(Still too overcome by shock, Quinn is unable to protest
coherently.  Phelps smirks and pats her shoulder lightly.)

PHELPS:  I look forward to working with you, Ms. Morgendorffer.

(fade-out.  fade-in to: )

SCENE 2 (Morgendorffer house, that evening)

(Shot of the outside.)

QUINN: (offscreen VO)  I *won't* DO it!!

(Cut to shot of her sitting in her place at the table, at dinner.
She's in full tantrum mode, while Daria observes with her usual
deadpan expression.  Helen mills around the kitchen, phone to
her ear, and Jake eats in a semi-oblivious manner.)

QUINN:  He *can't* make me join the geeky math brigade!  He *can't*,
he *can't*!!

DARIA:  That's it.  Think happy thoughts, and your wishes will
come true.

QUINN:  Shut UP, Daria!!

JAKE: (mouth half-full)  Aw c'mon fweetie, ih won' be fo
bad.  You'n me'll toth aroun' a few pro'lems, get the ol'
juifes flowih' -

DARIA:  And prove to the world that brains can sound just
as incoherent as the regular losers.

HELEN: (sitting down)  *Daria*.  Quinn, sweetheart, think
of what a wonderful opportunity it is for you.  A chance
to *challenge* yourself and perhaps build up your application
for college.  Not that I'm--

QUINN:  Did you people NOT hear what I SAID??!  That club
is full of *geeks*!  Nerds, rejects, people who lack proper
knowledge of folicle hygiene.  He *can't* banish me to
that popularity Siberia!  I'll, like, *freeze* to death
like those Donner people over there.

DARIA:  Right after they scaled Mt. Everest.

HELEN: (rolling her eyes)  Oh *honestly*, Quinn, it won't
be *that* bad.  *Right*, Daria?  (appeals to her with the
expression: "*Will* it??")

(Daria sighs.)

DARIA:  As a card-carrying member of the geek society, I
can assure you she has nothing to fear.  We only accept
*genuine* nerds, not the superficial dabblers.  *We*
have standards, too, you know.

QUINN: (hopeful)  You really mean it??

DARIA:  Yep.  And considering how you've managed to weather
glasses without permanent damage to your popularity, I think
you'll come through *this* unscathed, too.

(Quinn's posture starts to relax.)

DARIA: (smirk popping up)  But then again, I've heard
mathletics can steer even the most stubborn airhead toward
a career as a tax attorney.

(Quinn's jaw drops, and Helen and Jake send Daria a "Thanks a
*lot*" frown.)

(fade-out.  fade-in to: )

SCENE 3 (Lawndale High, a few days later)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to shot of the inside of a large
classroom.  There, we see Daria and Jane seated in the back,
watching the activity in front.  Jane is sketching like mad.
Up front, several people -- math "brigaders" -- are gathered
around a long table.)

DARIA:  I don't get it, Jane.  But wait -- since Quinn always
does the exact opposite of what I'd like *or* respect, I *do*
get it.

JANE:  Get *what*?

DARIA:  Quinn's not *so* oblivious that she can't see math
could really get her somewhere.  Why else would she work to
bring her math grade up?

JANE:  Threat of parental retribution?

DARIA:  Which would be as effective as the countless *other*
times they've threatened her, only to be ignored.  (Bt)  She
might as well just go the extra mile and do what she needs to do.
It won't make her any less popular.

JANE: (smirking)  Oh you *think* so, eh?

(She pushes her drawing toward Daria.  Cut to close-up.
There, we see what looks like exaggerated characatures of
three guys.  Cut to shot of the same three in real life, and
we see that Jane's sketches are *not* exaggerated.  If the word
"geek" were made for anyone, it would be for them.  One of the
three is Barry from "'Shipped Out," carrying a trademark stuffed
animal on his shoulder.  All three guys wear pocket protectors
and sashes with the school's colors, as well as carry giant
calculators that resemble computers.  And all three are
squabbling.)

BARRY: (squeaky Corey voice)  Clarence, it's *patently*
obvious you should have said X equals negative twenty-three
over three, *not* X equals seven and two thirds!

CLARENCE: (perpetual stutterer) B-b-but B-b-barry b-b-b-b --

SQUIGGLEY: ("aw shucks" nerd)  Aw c'mon, Barry, I mean gee
whiz, Clarence was probably just nervous, I mean I can't read
his mind or nothin' so I don't want to assume, but gosh I
dunno...

BARRY: (peevish)  So what if he was nervous, Squiggley?
Because of Clarence, we didn't get those two points and Oakwood
mopped the floor with us!

(Both Clarence and Squiggley shudder.)

SQUIGGLEY: (meek)  My butt still hurts.

CLARENCE:  Th-th-they used m-my t-*tongue*.

BARRY:  Then they said my Taxidermy Society was comical and
disturbing.  Oh the pain!  (Bt)  Well we can't keep getting
beat like this, men!  Remember which school is coming up.

CLARENCE: (look of terror on his face) N-n-n-n-n-n-noooo!

SQUIGGLEY: (mumbling)  Please don't say it... *please* don't
say it... PLEASE don't say it --

BARRY:  Grove Hills.

CLARENCE & SQUIGGLEY:  AGH!

BARRY:  You know how seriously *those* nerds take their
mathletics.  They'll crucify us unless we stick together.
(raises his sash.)  We must wear the Lawndale colors with
pride!

CLARENCE & SQUIGGLEY: (raising their sashes) Here h-here!

(They click calculators in a salute, then butt heads, which
causes all three to groan and stumble backward.  Resume shot
of Daria and Jane.)

DARIA:  To think you tried to set me up with him.

JANE:  *Must* you keep beating me over the head about that?!

DARIA:  Yes.

(Just then, cut to shot of Phelps entering the classroom.
He carries himself with his usual stiff air - perfectly
upright, each leg sticking straight out in front with each
step he takes.  Over one shoulder rests his coat, which he
holds onto rigidly with his right arm.)

DARIA: (offscreen VO)  Say, has Buckingham Palace reported a
guard missing?

JANE:  Haven't checked.  But even so, Phelps wouldn't resume
the position.  He's found his *true* calling sucking the life
out of *every* math problem he finds.

(Resume shot of Daria and Jane.)

JANE:  Rumor has it he's smiled once, just *once*, since he
came to Lawndale.  When he was chastising a student for
failing to round a decimal point to the nearest
one-thousandth.

DARIA:  Wow.  Not only relaxed, but *understanding*, too.

JANE:  He's actually not *so* bad.  To me, anyway.  But I
sure as hell never had to work so hard for a C in my
entire life.

DARIA:  Sounds as though he should have asked *you* to
join the mathletics squad.

(Beat)

JANE: (frowning a little)  Yeah.  (Bt)  But hey: where's
the little Geek in Chic?  Aren't we here to torture her??

(Cut to shot of Quinn in the hallway, talking to Stacy and
Tiffany, looking rushed.)

STACY: (nervous)  I don't know, Quinn.  I mean do you really
think Tiffany and me can hold a meeting by ourselves?

QUINN: (taking her by the shoulders, reassuring)  Of *course*
you can!  I have total faith in you guys.  Didn't Tiffany
do a good job when she was acting president the *last* time?

(Remembering the disaster in "Of Absolute Value," Stacy and
Tiffany exchange panicked looks.)

TIFFANY:  Buuuuuuuuuuuuuut --

QUINN:  Listen guys, I have to run, or I'll be late to my
grandma's funeral.  Ciao!  (does a little wave, which Stacy
and Tiffany timidly return.)

(After they leave, Quinn watches them depart, then slips
into the girls' bathroom.)

(Fade-out.  Fade-in to a short time later.  Quinn strolls
into the classroom, wearing a disguise, consisting of a
brown tweed jumpsuit and scarf, glasses with tinted lenses,
and her hair done up.  With the air of a thirty year-old,
she approaches the table where the three guys are sitting.)

JANE: (offscreen VO)  Now *who* does she think she's trying
to fool?

(Barry, Clarence, and Squiggley quit talking and just stare
at Quinn.  She in turn freezes, then presses up against the
blackboard in an attempt to look as inconspicuous and
aloof as possible.)

DARIA: (offscreen VO)  Whoever it was, it didn't work.

CLARENCE: (whispering to his buddies)  Wh-wh-who's *that*?

BARRY: (whispering)  She *can't* be real!  She's too
beauuuutiful!

SQUIGGLEY: (to Barry)  Go *talk* to her.  (Bt)  Um, I
mean, if it's not too much trouble, or nothin'.

BARRY:  I shall!  Um, as representative of the mathletics
squad, it's my *duty*.

(Cut to shot of Quinn, looking *very* uncomfortable.  Her
face blanches as Barry approaches.)

BARRY:  Um... (holds up his hand with the middle two fingers
spread apart, then makes a bunch of gurgling sounds.)

QUINN:  EWWWWW!  I mean (French accent.) *ouuuuuuuu*.

BARRY:  I greet you with the traditional Kling'on welcome.
My Kling'on name is Smartok, but you may call me by my
Earth name -- Barry Bukowski.  And what is your name?

QUINN: (whisper)  Oh God, *please* kill me now.

BARRY:  Huh??

QUINN: (*bad* faux French accent)  Um... urm... zee name,
eet ees... um... *Simone*.  Uh yes -- I mean *oui*.

BARRY:  Ohhhh, neato.  (irritating laugh.)  So do you visit
America often?  Y' know around here, I'm considered *quite*
a catch.

QUINN:  Ugh!!

(Cut to shot of Daria and Jane wearing wicked smirks.)

DARIA:  Even my fondest dreams of Quinn's humiliation never
went so well.

(Resume shot of Quinn and Barry.  Quinn looks, quite
literally, like she's going to die.)

QUINN:  Uh...

PHELPS: (offscreen VO)  Ms. Morgendorffer, you've made it.

(Pan over to show him with a bunch of students in another
corner of the classroom.)

PHELPS:  Do settle in and make yourself comfortable.  Get
to know your teammates.  (Bt)  Everyone, Ms. Morgendorffer
will be joining you for an indefinite length of time.

(Cut to shot of Clarence and Squiggley.)

SQUIGGLEY:  Ms. Morgendorffer?

(Cut to shot of Quinn and Barry.)

BARRY:  *Quinn*??  Quinn *Morgendorffer*??!  (He immediately
starts hyperventilating and stumbles away.)

QUINN: (to herself)  Now I understand: I'm *already* dead.
I've gone to hell.  (looks away, sees Daria and Jane.)
Oh *Gawd*!

(From their perch, Daria and Jane wave to her.)

QUINN: (putting a hand over her eyes)  Hghhhhhhhh...
(Suddenly she feels a tap on her shoulder.)  Oh *Gawd*,
no more!  I can't take anymore!

VOICE:  Quinn?  What's wrong?

(Quinn turns.  Pan over to show Jodie, also wearing the
mathletics sash.  Quinn grabs her by the shoulders and
practically shakes her.)

QUINN:  Oh Jodie -- thank *God*, someone popular.  You have
to get me out of here!

JODIE: (surprise)  Why are you even *here*?  Is the Fashion
Club designing new logos for our sashes?

QUINN:  Phelps *made* me join.  I had no choice!

JODIE: (more surprised)  Did I just hear right?  He made
*you* join??

QUINN:  Don't say it so *loud*!  (glances anxiously at the
door.)  So I s'pose this is, like, one of your *gazillion*
clubs??  You know, Jodie, if you help me escape, I can make
you an honorary member of the Fashion Club, which would look
*much* better on any applic--

JODIE: ("As *if*")  That's really nice of you, but the
Fashion Club won't give me extra credit in math.  I only
have a *ninety-five* in Phelps's class.

QUINN: (sarcastic)  Oh *poor* you.

JODIE: (rolling her eyes)  C' *mon*, it'll be okay.  Barry,
Clarence, and Melvin aren't too bad once you get to know them...

(Fade-out.  Fade-in to a short time later.  Quinn is seated
at the table, scribbling away on a piece of paper.  Her
concentration is disrupted, though, when Clarence, who sits
to one side of her, accidently bounces his pencil too hard on
the table top, causing it to fly upward and land in Squiggley's
ear.)

SQUIGGLEY:  Agh!  I've been *stabbed*! (jumps up in a panic.)

CLARENCE:  S-s-sorry m-ma --

SQUIGGLEY:  Golly, I feel my whole life passin' before my
eyes.  Alas, poor Squiggley, they knew me well.  (sniffles,
then grows pale, like he's close to passing out.)

BARRY:  Head between your knees!

(Squiggley nods and tries to do so while still standing, which
causes him to sway and nearly fall over.  Jodie gets up from
her seat and, with the patience of a mother who's used to
dealing with whiny children, walks over to him.  She leans
over and plucks the pencil out of Squiggley's ear.)

JODIE: You had the *eraser* end in your ear, Melvin.  You
aren't dying.

SQUIGGLEY: (sniff)  I'm not??  (Bt. meek)  Gosh, thanks.
You've saved me from an early grave.

JODIE:  Um... any time.  (shakes her head, walks away.)

(From her seat, Quinn rolls her eyes.)

QUINN:  "Not too bad once you get to know them, she says..."
*Ha*. (puts the last touches on a problem, then pushes the
paper forward with disgust.)  *Ugh*!  It's fixed, all *right*?!
I'm done.

(Phelps looks up from where he is sitting, which is not far
from where Daria and Jane are sprawled out.  He pulls out a
stop watch, stands up.)

PHELPS:  And in record time, I see.  (He walks over to Quinn,
leans over her paper to examine the work.)  Hmmm -- nice
penmanship as always, Ms. Morgendorffer.

QUINN:  You know I only like to work with *cute* numbers.
And too many eraser streaks, like, make the paper look
*really* unattractive.

PHELPS: (a faint, knowing smirk)  And *correct* as always.

(The other mathletes pause in their activities and look
at Quinn.  Barry, Clarence, and Squiggley's eyes bug out,
while Jodie can't conceal an impressed smirk.  Cut to shot
of Daria and Jane.)

JANE: (vaguely impressed)  Whoo-hoo -- that's ten in a row.
The girl is on a roll.  (She does a weak fist pump, then
yawns.)

DARIA: (distant)  Yep.

(Jane glances at her briefly before closing her eyes.
Daria has been seated upright and watching Quinn intently.
The expression on her face can be described as... strange.
It's not animated, but not her usual deadpan either.  Rather,
it could be described as stunned, maybe even conflicted.
Resume shot of Quinn, Mr. Phelps, and the other mathletes.)

QUINN: (scornful)  How many of these things do you guys
*do* at a meeting??

PHELPS:  That one will be your last.  For now.  (He steps
away from where she is sitting and addresses the other
mathletes.)  Well I think that confirms it, don't you agree?

(The mathletes nod.  Then some get confused looks on
their faces.)

BARRY:  Um... confirms what?

PHELPS:  That this girl will be a fine addition to our
squad.

BARRY:  Oh yeah!

(He gives Quinn a lovesick look, and more nods are seen
all around.)

PHELPS:  Fine enough to deserve first chair.

BARRY:  Yeah!  (Bt)  Wait a minute.  Um...

JODIE: (frowning)  Mr. Phelps?  (Bt)   You want to
take first chair away from Barry?

PHELPS:  Well I wasn't aware it *belonged* to him, but
yes.  Do you object, Mr. Bukowski?

BARRY:  Uhhhh...  (He looks as though he does, but
then he turns to Quinn, who appears completely shocked.)
Of course not!  She can have *anything* she wants!

(Jodie sighs heavily.  Meanwhile Daria and Jane have
been listening in, Jane looking more alert.)

DARIA: (trying not to sound jealous)  Wow.  First
meeting, first chair.  Looks like Quinn's powers
over the opposite sex extend to math teachers.
Just imagine if she actually got *along* with him.

JANE:  She *did* get all those problems right, though.

(Resume shot of Quinn, Jodie, the other mathletes, and
Mr. Phelps.)

JODIE:  Permission to speak my mind, sir?

PHELPS:  Go ahead.

JODIE:  We're going up against some really tough schools
over the next few weeks.  And Quinn's untested.  How will
she even know what to do??

PHELPS:  An important question, Ms. Landon.  (Bt)  And
my only response is that you test her out before then,
hmm?

QUINN: (outraged)  But who says I even WANT to be tested?!
This was supposed to be *one* meeting and then I was
*through* with worrying about math.

PHELPS: (with patience, accustomed to dealing with Quinn's
volatile personality)  Yes, well now you're presented
with a new challenge, aren't you?  One that perhaps you
shouldn't look your nose down upon.  (to the group.)
Listen, it's *you* all who are the mathletics squad, and
it's *you* who will be working together.  I'll leave this
as a choice to make amongst yourselves.

(With that, he leaves them alone.)



****************
END OF ACT ONE

[Shot of Squiggley hopping around with the pencil in his ear,
followed by shot of Quinn appealing to Sandi, followed by shot
of Daria smirking at Quinn at the dinner table.]


***You are now entering commercial *HEAVEN*.  Laaaaaaaaaaaaa...
We're so very happy to have you with us.  Just sit back and
let yourself be soothed by some of the grooviest commercials
put on television.***

1)  "Next Wednesday, on the Ten Spot: Will Jake's attempts
to get closer to Helen drive them further apart?  Will DeMartino
be able to reclaim the school that was taken from him?  Find
out next week on an all-new 'Daria.'"

2)  Dammit, this is the funniest commercial I've seen in a
long time!  "I am not a secretary; I'm an *administrative
assistant*.  I am not a plain M&M; I am a *milk chocolate*
M&M.  I am not a cheerleader; I'm an *athletic supporter*.
(Bt)  What??"  A great twist on our society's tendency to
make everything politically correct.

3)  Okay, this one's been on for a while and everyone's
prolly sick of it, but I just *had* to get this comment in:
finally a GAP commercial gets done *right*!  Dancers moving
to the music of "West Side Story" sure as hell beats a bunch
of zombies twitching to 80's tunes...

[Random aside: if you want to know much San Francisco had
sold its progressive soul, look no further than the GAP store
on Haight-Ashbury!  As Tiffany would say: "That's sooooooo
*wrong*."]

***You are now leaving commercial *HEAVEN*.  Y'all come back
soon now, ya hear?***


ACT TWO

SCENE 1 (Morgendorffer house, late evening)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to shot of the living room.
Daria sits on the couch, reading a book, while Quinn
stalks about behind her.)

QUINN: (nose wrinkled, Phelps imitation) "Yes, well now
you're presented with a *new* challenge, *aren't* you?
An' *I* know what's best for you 'cause *I*, like, know
everything an' you know *nothing*, don't you?"  That *jerk*!
He makes me *so* mad!  (She collapses on the couch, face down,
and pounds on the cushion.)

DARIA: (cocking an eyelid)  The painful life of a genius.

QUINN: (raising her head)  Leave me *alone*, Daria! *No* one
tells Quinn Morgendorffer what to do!! *No* one!!!  (Bt)
Well okay, Sandi did, but I didn't *really* follow her;
I just *pretended* to so she wouldn't think I was disloyal,
but all a long I was just biding my time 'til --

DARIA: (annoyed)  Listen, that teacher of yours, he didn't
*tell* you what to do.  Ignoring your utter lack of experience,
he handed you a top-level position.  No matter *how* good you
might be at math, that counts as a break.

QUINN:  You don't have to tell *me*, Smarty.  Like, I *know*
what a break is!

DARIA:  Having had more than your fair share.

QUINN:  Well I don't *care*!  (face trembles a little.)  Just
when it seemed like things were getting *good* for me, just
when it seemed like stuff would go back to *normal*...  (The
rest of her sentence is lost in a sudden gasp-sob.)

DARIA:  Normal as in "popularity: good, thinking: bad," right?
(When she sees that Quinn is too choked up to respond, her voice
takes on a gentler tone.)  You still believe that?  Don't you
remember what I said when you first got glasses?  (Pause.  sigh.)
Look, so don't go to the other practices, then.  Return to your
fashion minions: they're probably lost without you.

QUINN:  But even so they might *still* find out I went to
*one* of the geek brigade practices and then they'll think I'm
*really* into math -- which I'm *not*, by the way -- and then
I'd never live it *down*!  And then they might go back to
Sandi.

DARIA:  Aren't you and she --?

QUINN:  Sure, Sandi and I've been getting along great lately
-- almost like sisters.  But she hasn't said anything about
rejoining the Fashion Club and she's not around as much
anymore.  (Bt)  Which means she *must* be up to something.

DARIA:  Of course.

QUINN: (blinking back tears)  It'll be *just* like it was
during the Fashion Club Elections!  Only *this* time when I get
abandoned, I won't have cheerleading to fall back on.  (buries
her face in the couch.)  I'm doomed.  *Doomed*, I tell you!

DARIA:  Yes.  Doomed to follow a path that could bring you
future success.  (Bt)  Or *would* it?

QUINN: (lifting her head slightly)  Huh?

(Beat)

DARIA: (coy)  How do we *really* know you're so good at
math?

QUINN: (sitting up) What d' you *mean*??  You've seen
me in action, haven't you??

DARIA:  I've seen that you've gotten a few math problems
correct.  But what does that prove?  (can't resist smirking.)
How do I know your success isn't just a *hoax* perpetuated
by you and your math instructor?

QUINN: (wounded)  It's *not*!  I really *am* good.
I give poor pathetic math problems a second chance at
*life*!

DARIA:  Huh??

QUINN:  Broken and unbalanced, the numbers cry out: "Quinn!
Quinn!  Only *you* can fix me!"  And I strive to find an
ensemble that works for them.

DARIA:  O-kay.

QUINN:  And I'm *better* at finding a number ensemble than
*anyone* else.  So you *see*??  I *am* good!

DARIA:  No, I don't see.  A few problems right: all just
dumb luck in my opinion.

(She chooses this opportunity to stand up and saunter out
of the room, hoping that Quinn will take the bait.  Quinn
scowls after her.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 2 (Barry's house, one afternoon after school)

(Shot of the outside: a nondescript split-level house.  Cut
to close-up of a cute little squirrel with shiny eyes.  After
a few seconds, when the squirrel fails to move, we realize
that it is actually stuffed.  Zoom out to show an entire array
of stuffed squirrels and birds, arranged in a faux nature
setting along a wall of the dining room, where Barry and the
math brigaders have gathered.  Jodie views the scene with a
slight frown.)

JODIE:  Barry?  Is your mother *okay* with you spreading your
hobby throughout the house?

BARRY:  My mom's been touring the country as a Captain Janeway
look-alike, so she hasn't noticed.  (leans forward, attempts a
"Come hither" expression that fails miserably.)  What do *you*
think, Quinn??

(Pan over to show Quinn, looking pale and distressed.)

QUINN:  Oh God, those cute animals.  Those *poor* cute
animals!

BARRY:  Oh boy!  I knew you'd like it!

QUINN:  Let's just get this meeting *over* with, okay??
(groans.)  How does this geek squad *work*??

(Quinn's insult appears to fly right over Barry, Clarence,
and Squiggley's heads, but it causes Jodie to roll her
eyes.)

JODIE: (like she can't believe she's explaining this to
*Quinn* of all people)  There are five main chairs on the
mathletics squad, plus chairs for the alternates.  Barry was
first chair, I was second, Clarence third, Melvin fourth,
and Cheryl fifth.  (with slight annoyance.)  We *thought*
when Cheryl left with mono, an *alternate* would fill in
for her.  But since *you're* here --

QUINN: (cringing with disgust)  Do we *all* have to wear
geeky pads and a helmet like *that* guy??  (She points to
Clarence, who looks as though he's ready for the Demolition
Derby.)

BARRY:  Clarence likes to be protected from papercut injuries.
Those corners only *look* innocent.

CLARENCE:  Y-y-*yeah*.

SQUIGGLEY:  Maybe *I* should get a helmet, too.  (rubs his
pencil-injured ear.)

JODIE: (to Quinn)  But anyway, as first chair, it's important
for you to get our team off to a good start.  You'll have to
be on the ball, sharp-minded, calm under pressure.  (wary.)
Think you could handle that??  (Quinn gives a slight, apathetic
nod.)  We begin with a one-on-one section, followed by a group --

QUINN: (bored, curt)  Look, all I wanna know is what's at
*stake*??  Like, who's really gonna *care* if we don't win??

JODIE:  Mr. Phelps will care.

QUINN: (eyes narrowing)  If *he* cares, I *don't* care.

JODIE:  I don't know, all right? (lowers her voice.)  Look,
*no* one watches our tournaments.  Not even Mack, and he's my
boyfriend.  And truthfully, with all of the *other* stuff going
on in my life, this is the club I care *least* about.

QUINN: Ooooh great.

BARRY:  You *gotta* help us Quinn!  We're meeting *Grove
Hills* a week after our match against Cumberland!  We hafta
*beat* 'em!

JODIE:  Beat Grove Hills?  (sits up straighter.)  I'm there.

CLARENCE: (holds up a piece of paper)  Th-th-they s-s-sent us
an im-mim-mim-tim-mim -

QUINN: Could we *try* not sounding like we're trapped in a
stupid *freezer*?  Gimme that.  (grabs the paper from him.)

(As the three guys gather around her and Jodie to read, they
make disturbed buzzing sounds.  All but Quinn appear engrossed
in the message, which is written in neat black calligraphy on
white paper.)

JODIE: (frowning)

		There once was a math club from Lawndale
		So convinced that it could not fail.
		It dawdled too often
		And built its own coffin.
		So now we'll provide it the nail.

		Pleasant dreams, chumps.  We'll be waiting
		in your nightmares. -- Grove Hills

Ugh.  That sounds *just* like something Graham and those snobs
would've come up with.

(Clarence goes pale and passes out, face forward, where his
helmet is of no use to him.  He hits his head on the table
with a bang, then slides onto the floor.)

JODIE/SQUIGGLEY/BARRY:  Oh no!

SQUGGLEY:  Gee whiz, must've forgotten to take his insulin.

BARRY: (shrieking)  I told him, I *told* him: when you're
feeling faint, head between the *knees*!  Now Mom's gonna
*kill* me for letting someone die in our house!

JODIE: (thought VO)  Mono's starting to look *pretty* good
right now.  (rolls her eyes, resigned to play den mother
again.)  Hold on: I know CPR.

(Before leaning over, she turns to Quinn, who looks quite
unnerved by all this.)

JODIE: (lowering her voice)  If you need a reason to do your
best in first chair, this is it.  Those guys will be dead
if we don't beat Grove Hills.

QUINN: (wrinkling her nose)  And that's a *bad* thing?

JODIE: (after biting her lip for a split second to keep
from laughing)  Look, just *try* to take your role seriously,
all right?  Even if you're as smart as Phelps seems to *think*
you are, you still have to work hard.  So *don't* slack off.

(Quinn frowns resentfully and folds her arms on the table:
"Slack off??  Her??"  A few seconds later, we hear the sound
of Jodie gagging offscreen.)

CLARENCE:  S-s-sorry 'b-bout the uh-onions.

JODIE:  Don't... mention it.

SCENE 3 (Cumberland High auditorium, a week later)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to shot of Cumberland's auditorium
and stage.  On the stage sit two long tables on either side,
each with four seats, plus two desks in the center of the stage.
The mathletes from Team Lawndale and Team Cumberland are getting
prepared, and we see Quinn slumped over in a chair at one table,
oblivious to everyone around her.)

QUINN: (thought VO, resentful)  Slack off?  Slack *off*??  I
don't slack off, I never slack off.  I just focus on the stuff
that's important to me and being first is important to me and
I'm first chair so that means I care about winning 'cause if
you're first you're a winner, right? *Right*?!  Why does everyone
think I'm a slacker, I don't even *like* slacks cause they never
show off your legs so why would I try to be something I hate??
Stupid Daria thinks *she's* so smart an' *my* smart is just
"*dumb* luck," well I'll show *her* what dumb luck is when I
*win*!  (scans the auditorium anxiously.)  Oh God, pleeeeeease
don't let me see anyone I know!

(Cut to Quinn's POV.  The auditorium contains maybe a half-dozen
people.  But two of the people happen to be Daria and Jane.
Resume shot of Quinn.  She rolls her eyes.)

QUINN:  *Great*.  It's like *I'm* in prison and she's my freakin'
*guard dog* or something.  She'd just better not make fun of
me again.

(Just then, the person who will ask math questions during the
tournament comes up to her from behind.)

EXAMINER:  Miss?  (taps Quinn's shoulder.)

QUINN:  Agh!

EXAMINER: (smiling with understanding)  Feeling nervous?

QUINN: *No*.

EXAMINER:  Good.  Now if I could just doublecheck your name.
It's Quinn Morg-

QUINN: (shaking her head)  No-no-no, it's... um... Gwen.  Gwen
*Morgan*.

EXAMINER:  But the card says --

QUINN:  Well it's *wrong*.

(Meanwhile, cut to shot of Daria with Jane.)

DARIA: (muttering to herself)  Twenty bucks.  I should've
asked for fifty.

JANE: (sardonic)  Honestly, if I'd *known* a bag of peanuts
would cost four bucks at this thing, I wouldn't've come.
(sigh.)  These mathletic events are charging *way* above of the
average Joe's price range.

DARIA:  Well maybe the sideshow will make up for it.  (looks
offscreen, cocks an eyelid.)  His Excellency has arrived.

(Cut to shot of Phelps roaming around beside the table, examining
every fine detail with cool eyes and a stern expression.  He
freezes at one corner of the table and jostles it with one
quick movement of his arm.  He scowls.)

PHELPS: (to the Examiner)  *Sir* these table legs aren't fitted
according to regulations.  I detected a slight wobble.

EXAMINER: (tired... having dealt with Phelps and his ilk before)
It's just your imagination, mister.  We make sure our tables are
perfectly *straight*.

PHELPS:  Yes, well if one my students' exam papers should happen
to slide off, not to mention any *injuries* they could incur, I
won't hesitate to contact the authorities and complain --

EXAMINER:  All *right*, all right. (smiles angrily.)  I'll have
someone *fix* the legs.

(Phelps scarcely hears him, having already turned his attention to
a bundle of pencils lying on the table.  He picks one up, examines
it closely.)

PHELPS:  And these are 4B pencils.  You *do* realize that the
softer lead of a 4B pencil greatly increases the amount of
*streakage* on the paper.

EXAMINER: (grumbling)  It's easier to erase.

PHELPS:  But the erasures will be *sloppy*, and in a tournament
such as this, legibilty means everything.  (waves the pencil at
the Examiner as he says this.)

(The Examiner mumbles something incomprehensible.)

DARIA: (offscreen)  Why do I get the feeling he's only obsessed
with this tournament because all the really *good* dictatorships
have been taken?

JANE: (offscreen)  Not quite.  *Cuba* might soon have an opening.

(Cut to shot of Quinn.  She's been near Phelps this whole time,
but has been too absorbed in her own dilemma to acknowledge him
with her usual irritation.  Pan over to show Barry, Clarence, and
Squiggley gathered a short distance away, looking at her with
concern.)

BARRY:  Pooor Quinn.  So beautiful, so distressed.  I'd take on
the entire *Borg Collective* if it would make her feel better.

SQUIGGLEY:  Uh, maybe you could go reassure her, or something.
If that's all right with you.

BARRY:  I've *tried* talking to her.  But alas, she's as cold and
proud as Seven of Nine.

SQUIGGLEY:  But gee, um, she might really start to like you if you
talk to 'er...

BARRY:  I don't know...

CLARENCE:  Dammit man, just DO it!!!

(Both Squiggley and Barry look at him with utter shock.  Then
Barry nods and quickly scampers over to Quinn's side.  He holds out
something small and fuzzy.)

BARRY: *Here*, Quinn.  How'd ya like my lucky rabbit's foot for
good luck?

QUINN: (snide)  Did you, like, *kill* the rabbit and stuff it
first?

BARRY:  Oh *no* -- I only stuff *whole* rabbits.

QUINN:  Ewwwwww!

BARRY:  See, it's for rubbing when you get nervous --

QUINN:  Look, would you just *leave* me alone??  Just 'cause we
work together does not mean we have to exchange *non*-math related
dialogue.  (Bt)  And I am *not* nervous!

(As she turns away from Barry, she catches the determined gaze of
her beloved math instructor.  Quinn's face goes a shade paler and
she swallows hard.)

(Fade-out.  Fade-in to a short time later.  We see that the
competition is ready to start and mathletes are in position.  Quinn
and the Cumberland first chair sit at the isolated desks in the
center of the stage, while their teams sit at the tables on either
side.  The Examiner stands before them at a podium.  Cut to close-up
of Quinn.  Her eyes are wide and her face is pale.  Her pencil
trembles slightly.)

QUINN: (thought VO)  I'm not nervous, oh no, I'm not nervous,
not nervous me.  That's just ridiculous, me nervous.  Oh God...
oh God... oh God... oh God-oh God-oh God-oh God-oh God.
Ogodogodogodogodogodogodogodogodogodogodogodogodoh --

EXAMINER: First question.

QUINN: (thought VO)  Oh God can I do this?  Oh God am I really
*good* enough??  Oh God I wish this was Cashman's and I was
selecting a designer ensemble for summer evening wear.  There
are *so* many cute dresses out now, and open-toed shoes are arriving
in an *unlimited* number of styles...  (Pause) *Wait* -- did he
just ask the question?  (Bt)  He must've, 'cause I'm writing.
I'm writing, my hand is moving, I'm writing something.  But
*what*?!

(Cut to shot of Daria.  She's leaning forward slightly in her seat,
wearing the same odd expression as she did at the practice.  Cut
to shot of Mr. Phelps, watching with focused eyes and an unreadable
expression.  Resume shot of Quinn.  She slaps her pencil on the
desk.)

QUINN: (unnaturally high) *Done*!

(The Examiner saunters over to check the answer.  A dramatic pause
follows.)

EXAMINER:  Correct.  One point for Lawndale!

(The members of Quinn's team start clapping and cheering, with
Barry and his pals going overboard, of course.  Cut to shot of Mr.
Phelps, a small smirk playing upon his lips.  Cut to shot of Daria
and Jane, with Jane clapping.  Resume shot of Quinn, who relaxes
noticeably and gets an "I knew it all along" expression on her face.
Fade-out.)

(Fade-in to much later in the tournament, with the chalkboard revealing
that Cumberland is down by a point.  The five main members of each
team are gathered together for the group portion, each person
scribbling away on a piece of paper.)

EXAMINER:  This is the *final* question. *Two* points for the team
that answers first and answers *correctly*...

(Cut to close-up of Team Lawndale.)

QUINN: (hushed, authoritative)  All right, *I* know what to do here.
I've seen this one before.

SQUIGGLEY:  Me, too.  You --

QUINN:  No, let *me*.  Here, now first you get rid of the big box
thingy, set it up so one is greater than, one is less than, add three
to one side...

(Meanwhile the other mathletes are scribbling furiously.  Jodie sort
of glares at Quinn for her rudeness, but knows there's too little time
to argue with her.)

QUINN:  'Kay, then you add the pointy arrow thing.

(Beat)

BARRY:  Huh??

QUINN:  The pointy arrow... you *know*, with the cute little tail.

JODIE:  I don't follow you.

QUINN: (face reddening)  Don't you guys know *anything*??  The
pointy *arrow* is --

TEAM CUMBERLAND: (offscreen) DONE!

CUMBERLAND GIRL: (offscreen)  The answer is X is a value between
eleven and sixty-three!

(The Lawndale mathletes lift their heads and await the Examiner's
reply with shock and dread.)

EXAMINER:  Correct!  Cumberland wins by *one*!

(A cheer roars out from the sparse crowd.  Cut to shot of Daria
and Jane.  Daria gets an expression of vague sympathy.  Cut to shot
of Phelps.  His face remains expressionless, but he closes his eyes.
Resume shot of Team Lawndale.  All of the mathletes wear looks of
frustration and defeat.  Almost as soon as their defeat has sunk in
do the accusations begin.)

QUINN: (enraged) *God*, don't you guys know *anything*?!  How could
you not know what *this* is?!  (She pushes her paper forward.)

BARRY: (surprised)  But you said *you* would explain everything.

CLARENCE:  Y-yeah.

QUINN:  That doesn't mean *everything*-everything.  I thought math
nerds at *least* knew the basics!

JODIE:  Well maybe we *would've* if *you* knew the right terminology.
That "pointy arrow thing" --

BARRY:  Is a *greater*-than-or-equal-to symbol.

CLARENCE & SQUIGGLEY: *Yeah*.

JODIE:  Maybe if you hadn't been so *arrogant* and thought you were
exempt from doing *work*, from learning little things like the
correct *names* of symbols, we would've understood --

QUINN:  All *right*, all right, *Gawd*.  (Her face is now red
with mortification.  Being told she was in the wrong was hard enough,
but Jodie's remarks really stung.)  I didn't realize I was such a
*lousy* addition to your *freaking* team.  Well fine, after today I
won't *bother* you anymore...

(With a jerk of her chair, she stands upright.  Jodie and the guys
eye each other with concern.)

BARRY:  No Quinn!  We didn't mean it!  Pleeeeeeeeease don't go!
(He jumps out of his chair and makes an unsuccessful effort to
fall to his knees before her.)

JODIE: (somewhat contrite)  We shouldn't've flown off the handle
like that.  You're still learning, it was just your first time --

QUINN:  And my *last*.

(On her way off stage, she jumps over Barry, who'd attempted to
block her path.  Cut to close-up of Phelps, still standing
in his corner.  His eyes have shifted to the side, and he
appears to be planning something.)

(fade-out.  fade-in to: )

SCENE 4 (Lawndale High, the next day)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to shot of Quinn strolling through
the hallway with Stacy and Tiffany, looking more serene.)

QUINN: (thought VO)  It's soooooo good to be with *normal*
people again.

(They pass by Kevin and Brittany, who are trying to get
Kevin's football-helmeted head out of his locker.)

KEVIN: (whiny)  It's really, really *stuck*, babe!

BRITTANY:  Oh *no*!  My Kevvy's head'll be trapped in
there *forever*!

KEVIN:  I just hope they don't have to *saw* it off an'
reattach it or nothing.  That would really *hurt*!

STACY: (semi-whiny, laying a hand on Quinn's arm)  We're
*so* glad you're back from donating blood for your cousin's
bone marrow transplant, Quinn.  Things have just been falling
apart without you!

TIFFANY: *Look*.

(She removes that sweater she attained at the beginning of
Season Four, revealing that she and Stacy are wearing the
same outfits.)

STACY:  Tiffany forgot to issue the three-day fashion forecast.
Now we're *matching*!

TIFFANY:  Does this make *me* look as fat as it makes her?

(This wins her a rare scowl from Stacy.)

QUINN: (somewhat distracted)  You guys *both* look fine.  No
one's gonna destroy you for matching *one* day -- as long as
Tiffany keeps wearing that sweater. (quick transition.)  But
say, I was wondering: remember what you said a while ago about
people thinking I was (forced laugh.) a math *brain*?  Um,
people, um, didn't hold it against me, did they?

STACY:  I'm not sure.  (whiny)  Oh, but you *haven't* even heard
the *worst* thing we did --!

QUINN: (worried)  Not sure as in "No they didn't" or not sure
as in "Maybe they did, but I wasn't there" or not sure as in
"Maybe they were *going* to but *I* *was* there" and they know
you're a friend of *me* and they've been pretending to like me
this whole time so they couldn't, like, risk the whole
*back-stabber* stigma?  (Bt) *Well*?!

(Stacy and Tiffany eye each other with "What's gotten *in* to
her??" expressions.)

TIFFANY:  Wellllll... I heard Skylar say that all math brains
grow up to be fat and wear baggy clothes... and if you're a
girl... *no* guy will date you.

QUINN: (cringing)  Oh.

STACY: (soothing)  He probably wasn't talking about *you*,
Quinn.

QUINN:  Well Skylar and I are on the outs, anyway. *Like*
I'd care about what he --

STACY:  And I heard Tori tell Brooke that math brains, like,
go off in a whole other world and you can't talk to them or
relate to them at *all*.  And Brooke said she was right.

QUINN:  Well she's *wrong*!  About *me*, anyway!  Um, not that
I *am* a math brain.

TIFFANY:  No waaaaaay.

STACY: (looking offscreen)  Oh NO!  (starts hyperventilating.)
It's *spreading*, Tiffany!

QUINN: (turning to look)  What is??

(They pause in front of a group wearing jeans with wastebands
that fall to mid-thigh, baggy sweaters, and backward-turned
caps.)

QUINN:  *Agh*!

TIFFANY:  Hip hop.  Everywhere... hip hop.

STACY:  Make it STOP!

QUINN:  What happened??  Didn't you remember our *unacceptable*
 fashions drill??

STACY:  W-we *would* have...

TIFFANY:  It wasn't *my* fault...

STACY: (glaring)  Well it wasn't *mine*, either.  Tiffany
and me spent the meeting discussing how to coordinate the
new plaid nail polish...

QUINN: (rolling her eyes)  And so you *forgot* --

TIFFANY:  To remember --

STACY:  To, um, send out a warning about hip hop fashions.
(Bt.)  You, um, weren't there...

QUINN: (straining to be patient)  And what about Sandi?

TIFFANY:  She wasn't, either.

STACY: (lips quivering)  So we were al-l-lone.

TIFFANY:  And one of those guys said I was *fat*, and, like,
that was a *good* thing.  (shudders.)

QUINN:  Can't you two do *anything* without my help?!  Do I
*always* have to be *watching* you?!  (She sees the stunned
looks on her friends' faces and quickly retreats.)  Um, uh...
nevermind.  Look, we can *contain* this thing before it
spreads to the rest of the school.  We just need a plan.

(Stacy and Tiffany nod with anticipation and relief.)

QUINN:  First we'll --

BARRY: (offscreen, calling)  Qui-inn!  Oh Quiiii-iiiiinn!

STACY: (looking offscreen)  Ewww!  What does that guy *want*,
Quinn??

TIFFANY: (also looking)  Like he'd even stand a *chance* with 
you.

STACY: *Yeah*.  (Bt)  Quinn?

(They both turn their eyes to where Quinn was standing,
only to find that she's vanished.  Meanwhile, the group
of hip-hoppers have spotted them and begin closing in.
Stacy and Tiffany quickly forget about their president's
disappearance and regard their situation with growing horror.)

GUY:  Heyyyyyy, check out the *phat* chicks!

(Cut to shot of Daria and Jane.  They're standing around
outside of class when all of the sudden Quinn streaks past
them and out of sight.)

JANE: (like a sports announcer)  It's *Morgendorffer* in
the lead with only two laps to go!

DARIA:  She must really be upset if she's resorting to actual
physical exertion.

JANE:  About the math competition?  You mean our little Material
Girl isn't *happy*??  Now she can spend every *second* of her
newfound freedom searching for more tube tops.

DARIA:  Call me crazy, but I think she wanted to stay on the
mathletics squad.

JANE:  Okay, Crazy.  How can you tell?

DARIA:  Last night she kept moping over dinner about how
she could've done *this* better or *that* better, how it
should've been log base ten to the *eighth* power instead
of log base two to the third power.

JANE:  Come again??

DARIA:  I just made that up to give you an idea.  But she's
too much of a proud, vain egomaniac to ever admit that she
wants her spot back.

JANE:  Ooh yeah.

DARIA:  Even though that *Barry* guy keeps calling our house
trying to get her to change her mind.

JANE:  Barry??  (cringes.)  Have you changed phone numbers
yet?

DARIA: (rolling her eyes)  Eleven messages.  Long ones.  In
a very... *whiny*... tone.  (sighs heavily.)  It's enough
to make a compassionate sibling want to tell Quinn to cut the
*crap* and just do what feels right to her.  (Bt)  Too bad
I'm not compassionate.

(Jane lifts a brow.  Daria stands there expressionlessly for
several more seconds before she finally rolls her eyes again
and trudges off in the direction where Quinn fled.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 5 (outside of the teacher's lounge)

(Shot of the outside.)

PHELPS: (from inside, tense)  For the *last* time --

DeMARTINO:  FIRST she gives you the best PARKing spot!
*The-ehhhn* you mysteriously get your own REFRIGERATOR so you
don't have to share with the *other* teachers and get YOUR
meatball sub mixed together with someone *else's* tuna-and-
egg-SALAD!

PHELPS:  For *your* information, I *bought* that
refrigerator --

DeMARTINO:  PUH-LEEEEEASE!

(Just at the door to the lounge starts to open, we see Quinn
sweep past.  She's not running anymore, but she's still moving
fast and looking spooked.  Right when she exits the screen,
the door opens wide enough for us to see Phelps and DeMartino,
giving each other evil looks.)

DeMARTINO:  Since when can a TEACHER afford to buy any
*luxuries*??  *Unless* said teacher got a big fat SALARY when
he came --!

PHELPS: (curt)  Look, I see a student of mine whom I need to
speak to.  So unless you have anything *worthwhile* to say,
this conversation is finished.  Good day.  (He leaves quickly.)

DeMARTINO: (shouting after him)  Ohhh NO, this is only the
BEGINNING!!!

(Cut to shot of Quinn, who has paused to cool off, lest sweat
actually pop up on her skin.  Phelps strolls over to her.)

PHELPS: (hint of a smirk)  Well good morning.

QUINN: (in no mood to fake respectfulness)  Oh.  It's *you*.

PHELPS: (unfazed)  Now is that any way to greet your instructor?

QUINN: (mumbling)  I dunno.

(Beat)

PHELPS:  You left the scene of the competition so quickly
yesterday that we didn't have the chance to chat.

QUINN: (sarcastic)  Gee, too bad.

(She looks as though she wants to leave, and Phelps looks
somewhat taken aback by her overt hostility.)

PHELPS:  My dear Quinn... (sighs.)  people *do* lose sometimes.
It happens to the best of us.

QUINN:  Oh gee *really*?!  Gosh, you mean you're, like, *okay*
with someone smudging their *stupid* answer 'cause the table was
too *crooked* and getting it wrong??!

PHELPS: (smirking once more)  All right, I'll admit: I *can* get
a little obsessive at times.

QUINN:  Try *all* the time.  (She chuckles bitterly, not caring
anymore what he does to her.)  You're, like, the ONLY teacher I've
ever *met* who wants to be perfect at *everything*. *No* one's as
bad as YOU -- not Jodie Landon, not Sandi Griffin.  The only
other person who even comes *close* (Bt) is me.

(Phelps looks as though he's going to respond, but when he sees
Quinn's face take on a pensive expression, he closes his mouth.)

QUINN: (pouty, frustrated)  I don't *like* it when people say
I'm bad at stuff.  (Bt)  I don't like it when I think they're
*right*.

PHELPS:  And when your teammates complained about your
performance, you quickly assumed that they knew you better
than you know yourself.  (Quinn looks at him warily for a moment.
Then she nods reluctantly.)  Even though their frustration
could have been directed towards *anyone* in the group, given
the heated nature of the competition.  (More nods.)  And you're
willing to quit because you don't ever want learn if they really
*are* correct, hmm?

(Quinn starts to nod, then catches herself.)

QUINN:  Um, *no*.  No-no-*no*.  It's so I don't have to worry
about my friends thinking I've turned into a brainy *freak*.

PHELPS:  What was I thinking?  Of course.  For one who places
such emphasis on her social status, that *would* be of
tremendous concern.

QUINN:  Um, right.  Concern.  (An uncomfortable look crosses
her face.  Phelps raises his brows questioningly.)  But...
y'know...

(Beat)

PHELPS: (gently prodding)  Yes?

QUINN:  Um... y'know, I didn't *totally* hate working on
those math problems or anything... (sigh.) and being a freak
is bad, but being a big *baby* is even worse.  An' I don't
*want* to feel that way, but it's how I *will* feel if I quit
the team, especially if it's before I show... I could do better.

(Beat)

PHELPS:  You really think you could improve, hmm?

QUINN: (subdued)  I think so.  (Bt)  Yes.

PHELPS:  But what about your friends?

(Beat)

QUINN:  I'll just keep making sure they don't find out.

(For a moment or two, Quinn avoids looking at Phelps.  But
when she finally does, it's with an unusually shy expression,
one that says she regrets having snapped at him earlier.)

PHELPS: (smirking knowingly)  Say no more, Ms. Morgendorffer.
Your spot on the mathletics squad is safe.  And I'll be glad to
help you achieve your goal, as I always have.

QUINN: (shy)  Thanks.

PHELPS:  I know how you need me to keep you afloat.

(Beat)

QUINN: (flustered)  Oh, I don't *need* your help... I can do
math stuff on my own just fine.  My *dad* can...

PHELPS:  Ah, but your father won't remind you to put aside your
other activities, or that pointless *busywork* your other teachers
assign you, to focus on what's *really* important.  And he doesn't
know all my *tricks*, does he?  (smirk deepens, as does his
trademark impenetrable gaze.)

QUINN: (after several conflicted expressions cross her face)  No.

PHELPS:  And we'll put those tricks to good use, won't we?
Just like all of the other times.

QUINN:  Yeah.

PHELPS:  You know something, Ms. Morgendorffer, you were right:
we *are* two of a kind.  We both are willing to do what we can
to go that extra mile, whatever it takes to win.  Just as long
as we *first* put our eye on that finish line.

QUINN: (with more assurance than before) *Yeah*.

(Cut to shot of Daria, who's been lurking by a corner,
eavesdropping on their conversation this whole time.  She's
frowning, not liking what she's heard.)



****************
END OF ACT TWO

[Shot of Stacy and Tiffany watching with horror as the hip
hopsters come towards them, followed by shot of Phelps and
DeMartino emerging from the Teacher's Lounge, followed by shot
of Clarence fainting.]


***You are now entering commercial *HEAVEN*.  Laaaaaaaaaaaaa
...  We're so very happy to have you with us.  Just sit back
and let yourself be soothed by some of the grooviest commercials
put on television.***

1)  A guy plays music on a 7-UP can.  That's it.  At least it's
better than Sprite's "Image is Nothing; Thirst is Everything,"
which proudly wears hypocrisy on its sleeve.

2)  Another Jack 'N the Box commercial.  I know I've mentioned
these in a past Commercial Heaven, but dang it they're just so
durn clever.  I mean who'd've thought of taking a round head with
a pointy cone hat and giving it a *family life*?  The one I'm
thinking of, in particular, has Jack and his wife visiting Jack's
parents (Jack gets his looks from Dad, btw.).  When Jack spurns
Mom's request that he go 100 miles to the nearest Jack 'N the Box
for breakfast, she cooly reminds him: "Did I ever mention how
*difficult* your birth was?"  <cringe> I can just imagine.

3)  An anti-smoking commercial that cleverly mocks those teen
facial cleanser ads.  Three friends try on a special tobacco,
which is supposed to make their skin glow.  Then one of them
starts fanning herself.  "Guys: it's *really* burning!"  Then
POOOF! she goes up in a cloud of smoke.  The message then reads:
Smoking Kills 1 Out of Every 3 People Who Get Hooked.

***You are now leaving commercial *HEAVEN*.  Y'all come back
soon now, ya hear?***


ACT THREE

SCENE 1 (Jodie's house, the beginning of a montage)

(Shot of the outside.  Sounds of the phone ringing and a
click suggesting it's been picked up.)

JODIE: (offscreen VO)  Hello?

(Cut to shot of Jodie sitting on the couch.  Split screen to show
her on the left, Quinn on the right.)

QUINN: (chipper)  *Hi* Jodie, it's Quinn.

JODIE:  Hey.  (contrite)  Look, Quinn, about the competition --

QUINN:  Oh, *don't* worry about that.  I've put it out of my
mind.

JODIE:  Maybe so, but I *still* want to apologize for the way
I acted toward you.  Look, you *did* do a great job for a
beginner, and if we don't support each other as teammates,
then we might as well just give up now.  I was a real snot
and I'm sorry.

QUINN:  Oh that's okay.

JODIE:  And you...?  (She pauses, waiting for Quinn show
contrition for her own snotty behavior.)

QUINN:  There's more?  (Bt)  Listen Jodie, I said it's *okay*;
I forgive you.

JODIE: (can't resist rolling her eyes)  Um, so you're back
on the team?

QUINN: *Definitely*.  You need me to battle those Grove
Hills freaks, don't you?

JODIE: (after pausing again at Quinn's suggestion they
"need" her)  Everyone needs to work together to defeat *those*
jerks.  (She reaches into her pocket and pulls out another
slip of paper, bearing the same neat calligraphy.  Jodie
looks at it, shakes her head.)  They've been really *nasty*
this year.  I don't remember them *ever* being this bad
about *any* club in the past.

QUINN:  So we'll work extra hard then -- meet every evening
and on weekends, practice drills, overcome all our little
weaknesses until --

JODIE: (stunned)  You're really prepared to work *that*
hard?  (reluctant.)  Quinn, with all of my responsibilities,
I don't think --

QUINN: (smirking wickedly)  Oh come *on*, Jodie: don't you
wanna beat Grove Hills?  Daria once said you, like, had a
*grudge* against them, or something.

(Beat)

JODIE:  All right, I'm in.

QUINN:  Great.

(Cut to shot of Barry standing on top of a step ladder, placing
the last stuffed bird in a glass display, which features other
birds in a faux nature setting. The phone rings several times,
until the answering machine picks it up.)

QUINN: (from the machine, sugary-sweet) *Hi* Barry!  Say,
do you remember that message you left promising to do *anything*
I asked??

(Barry leaps off the stepladder and onto the ground, knocking
it against the glass case in the process.  All of the birds
within shake, then most tumble off of their perches.)

BARRY: (before even reaching the phone) *Yes*!  Yes, my love!
Just *say* the word!

(Cut to shot of Jake sitting at the kitchen table, reading the
paper as usual.  He suddenly drops it with surprise as Quinn
walks up with a pile of text books and papers and dumps them
in front of him.)

QUINN: (business-like)  *Okay*, my math teacher helped me lay
out a detailed plan of attack for this math stuff, so if we
get started now we *might* cover it all before next Friday,
the day of the competition, provided we don't do other stuff
that takes too much time, like eat or sleep.  Or at least provided
*you* don't.  (chuckles.)  Now I *think* we should get started
on terminology, I was having some trouble there...

(Jake stares at the pile of books, wearing an "Eap!" expression.)

(Cut to shot of Quinn walking into her room later that evening.
She stops to survey everything.  The music from "Rocky" starts
to play.)

(She walks over to her aqua bureau [as seen in "Of Human Bonding"]
which is covered with clothes and piles of Waif magazines.  With
one emphatic gesture, she sweeps the clothes off the top, then piles
all of her Waifs together.  Cut to close-up of her trunk.  Quinn
walks up to it, gives the Waifs one last loving look, and a kiss,
then dumps them inside the trunk where they won't distract her.  Cut
to shot of Quinn back at the bureau.  She lays her mathbook on
its surface, looks at it with some trepidation, then slowly opens it.)

(Shot of Quinn standing at the blackboard in Phelps's classroom,
wearing gloves and a smock to avoid getting chalk dust on her,
of course.  She's gazing at the board intently, scribbling down
formulas.  Phelps keeps eyeing her and jotting things down on a
sheet of paper.)

(Shot of the outside of the classroom a short time later.  We
see Daria walk slowly up to the door.  But just as she reaches
it, the door flies shut.  Daria stands there, looking conflicted.
She edges over to the door and makes a movement that suggests
she's trying to eavesdrop.  But quickly she straightens up,
wearing a "I can't believe I'm doing this; this is stupid"
expression.  She shakes her head, walks away.)

(Cut to shot of Quinn sitting at the table in Barry's house,
pointing things out that she's scribbled on binder paper to
the entire group.  As she's focused on one of the problems,
Barry slips an arm around her.  Quinn gets an "EWWWWWW!"
expression and shoves him away.  Meanwhile, Squiggley has a
hand over one eye and a whimpering expression.  He slowly holds
up a ruler, indicating another senseless act of violence at the
hand of school supplies.)

(Cut to shot of Jake and Quinn working intensely at the table,
Jake feeding Quinn questions as fast as he can, while Quinn
works them out.  From the living room, Helen watches with
approval, Daria with wariness.)

(Cut to shot of Stacy and Tiffany standing by their lockers,
watching with horror as more and more people dressed in hip
hop fashions saunter past.)

(Cut to shot of Phelps's blackboard, almost every inch covered
with formulas.  Close-up reveals some of them: logarithms, each
one more complicated than the last.)

(Cut to shot of Quinn about to take a shower, looking dragged-out
after her day of work.  Just then she jumps, as if hearing
something loud.  Cut to shot of the door as seen from the outside.
Quinn runs out, lookly perfectly done-up, down the stairs, to
the front door where her date awaits.)

(Cut to shot of Quinn dashing down the hall, past Stacy and Tiffany,
who try to stop her.  Pan over to show that she's being pursued
by Squiggley and Clarence.)

(Cut to shot of Quinn and the other mathletes, this time at
Jodie's house.  Piles of books are everywhere, and everyone has
collapsed except for Quinn, who continues to read her math book
while wearing an energized, determined expression.)

(Cut to shot of her sitting at her newly-converted desk, also
deeply absorbed in the math book.  Cut to shot of her, some time
later, checking her eyes for any new wrinkles.)

(Cut to shot of Phelps's chalkboard.  Pan-over to show more
problems.  Pan downward to show Quinn crouched down, putting
the finishing touches on an answer.  With her final, triumphant
stroke, the music ends.)

SCENE 2 (Lawndale High, after school)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to shot of Daria and Jane standing by
their lockers.)

DARIA: (sour expression)  Then he told her he'd put his "*tricks*"
to good use.

JANE:  So?  "Tricks" don't have to be underhanded.  Maybe they're
just memory games or something.

DARIA: (reluctant)  Could be.  But the way he said it...

JANE: (smirking)  You *sure* you're not over-reacting?

DARIA:  No, I'm *not* sure.  (groans.)  But there's something
about that guy I *don't* like.

JANE:  Haven't we been on this page before?  The man's exacting,
priggish, and arrogant -- the personality cocktail designed to
make people like Daria Morgendorffer *vomit*.  (Bt)  But a user?
A dirty trickster?  Hate to say it, amiga, but that's going out
on a ledge.

DARIA: (cocking an eyelid)  Well then *this* thought will surely
toss me into the void.  (sighs.)  Suppose Phelps, the one
whom my family *worships* for braving the journey through Quinn's
haze of shallowness... suppose he...

JANE:  Yeah??

(Beat)

DARIA: (quieter)  *He's* the only reason she's so good at math?
When I think about it, I can't remember her being great at *any*
subject, let alone one where the most trendy future consists of
eyestrain and a good case of carpal tunnel.

JANE:  You don't think she might have just *found* her calling??
(glances at Daria's lack of expression, shakes her head.)  C'mon,
do you *honestly* think Phelps could be so clever?  He's an
*educator*, for crying out loud.

DARIA:  Maybe so, but he seems to be a snoot above every other
instructor at Lawndale.  I wouldn't put anything past him. (Bt)
And consider how little we even know about this guy.  Even if he
*is* getting the perks DeMartino mentioned, I still don't see why
he'd choose *this* hell over a cushy prep school.

JANE: (shrugging)  'Cause he's an altruist?  A masochist??  Well
one thing I'll say in his defense: he may be a stuffed shirt, but
he's as *big* a stuffed shirt to the smart ones as to the idiots.
He treats us all as equally stupid.  Tom thought so, too.

DARIA:  Tom?

JANE:  He had Phelps.  (Bt)  Phelps taught at *his* prep school.

DARIA:  Oh.  (Pause.  mulls this over.)  But that doesn't explain
why he's singled out Quinn.

JANE: (glancing carefully at Daria)  Maybe she really *is* a
genius and Phelps just happened to see it.  Maybe the sinister
element you're searching for isn't there.

(Beat)

DARIA:  Well there's one way to find out.

(She nods at Jane.  Jane looks at her quizzically, then follows.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 3 (Phelps's classroom, after school)

(Shot of the exterior.  The cut to the interior, which is empty
except for Phelps, who is taking his afternoon tea.  Just as he's
accidentally spilled some biscuit on his front, Daria and Jane
appear.)

DARIA: (deadpan)  Careful.  I hear it's murder trying to wash
biscuit stains out of one's ascot.

PHELPS: (merely raising a dry brow at Daria)  May I help you?
Ms. Lane?

JANE:  Um... well... (glares briefly at Daria for getting her
into this.)  I was thinking: y' know, I've been toeing the
line between passing and failing for some time now, and I
*really* could use some extra help with math if you're willing.

PHELPS:  Hmmm... (somewhat absently.)  I would like to, Ms. Lane,
but my schedule is quite full, you see.

DARIA: (hushed)  Yacht club demanding too much of your time?

PHELPS: (glancing at Daria, then at Jane)  It's full.  I'm sorry.
But there *is* a tutoring group down the hallway if you need --

JANE:  *Or* maybe what I need is some extra credit to boost my grade.
Would you be willing to sign me up for the mathletics squad?

(Phelps smiles thinly.)

PHELPS:  It's not so... I *would*, Ms. Lane, but the squad is full.

JANE:  Couldn't I be an alternate?  An *alternate* to an alternate??

PHELPS:  I'm afraid --

DARIA:  But she's really smart.  She integrates a lot of math
into her paintings.

JANE:  Compared to me, Picasso's a finger-painter.

PHELPS: (straining to sound gentle)  The mathletic season is
too far along and besides, you're just *not* trained.

JANE:  I could *do* it, I swear.  I just need the chance to
prove myself.

PHELPS:  I'm afraid --

DARIA:  You won't even give her one chance?  (cocks an eyelid.)
How do you know she doesn't possess some kind of hidden
genius?

JANE:  *Yeah*.

PHELPS:  Perhaps she *does*, but as I've said before: it just
*isn't* possible.  I'm sorry.

(long Pause.  Daria and Jane eye each other.)

JANE: (to Phelps)  Okay...  Um, thanks.

(Cut to shot of the outside of the room, a short time later.
Jane and Daria walk out.)

JANE: (bitter)  Boy do *I* feel like an idiot.  To think I
was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

DARIA:  So he *is* a hypocrite.  There's a shock.  Now the
question remains why he chose Quinn as --

(Suddenly Phelps pokes his head out the doorway.)

PHELPS:  Daria Morgendorffer.  I thought I recognized you.

(Daria freezes and turns around to face him.)

DARIA: That's one of my many aliases, yes.

PHELPS:  You're *Quinn* Morgendorffer's sister, aren't you?

DARIA:  Not if *she* has anything to say about it.

PHELPS:  Ah, but you are.  Aren't you?

(Daria expects him to say something more, but he disappears
back into his classroom.)

SCENE 4 (Barry's house, evening)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to shot of the mathletes gathered
around the table again.  The three guys look frazzled and
bewildered.  Barry is writing frantically as Quinn paces the
room, wearing a task-master expression.  Clarence just sits
there with a vacant expression, and Squiggley scratches his nose
with a pencil.  Jodie observes everything, looking worn-out.)

QUINN:  All right, Barry, time's *up*.  What's your answer?

BARRY: (a wee bit intimidated)  Uhhh... ummm... it's X equals
negative seven over --

QUINN:  *Oops*!  I'm afraid we've run out of time, Mr. Bukowski.
 Lawndale ten, other school *eleven*.  We *lose*.  And have a
nice day!

BARRY:  Aww!  I've *failed*!  I've failed *again*!  (So tired
out from the constant studying, his face crumples, and he starts
banging his head against the table repeatedly.  Clarence and
Squiggley reach over to comfort him.)

QUINN:  Guh-yyyyyyys!  We've *got* to be better prepared!  If
the question-asking person wants us to say our answers, he's not
gonna *stand* around and listen to a bunch of *mumbling*.  Clarity
is *everything*.  (As the guys nod meekly, she strides past each
of them.)  So Barry, *practice* your delivery.  You *too*, Clarence
-- keep reading that anti-stuttering book I got you.  And... (to
Squiggley)  you, *stop* rubbing your nose with that pencil; you
could hurt yourself.

SQUIGGLEY:  Huh?  (As he says it, the pencil goes up his nose.)

QUINN: (cringing)  Ewwww!

JODIE: (amused and annoyed)  Quinn, I don't think the *world's*
gonna end if we don't say our answers perfectly.  This is just
a math competition, *not* a T.V. quiz show.

QUINN: (shaking her head, a little patronizing)  "*Just* a math
competition."  Maybe to *you* guys, but to me, it's *so* much
more.  (giggles.)  Now if you'll excuse me: I'm feeling giddy and
I need some air...  (She flutters out of the room.)

BARRY: (when she's gone, weary)  Even during her Reign of Terror,
she's beautiful.

CLARENCE & SQUIGGLEY: (weary)  Uh......huh...

(Jodie looks them over and shakes her head.  She stands up and
leaves the room to go talk to Quinn.)

(Cut to shot of Quinn standing in the hallway, admiring the glass
case of birds Barry was working on in an earlier scene.  Wearing
a blissful smirk, she seems unaware of the fact that she is *not*
outside, nor of the fact that the birds are dead.  Jodie walks up
behind her.)

JODIE:  Quinn, there's something I have to get off my chest.

(Quinn flinches with surprise, then gets a contrite look on her
face.)

QUINN:  All *right*, all right, I *know* I've gotten carried
away.  Believe me, I'm *just* as surprised as you are.

JODIE: (sardonic smirk)  I don't know about *that*.  I've never
seen *anyone* as hell-bent on success as you, and I've lived
with Michele and Andrew Landon for seventeen years.

QUINN:  It's not just the *winning* I'm thinking about anymore.
(takes a deep breath.)  It's... it's... (strains to articulate.)
It's these number-thingys pulsing in my head, coming together
with, like, this *rhythm* to form the perfect ensembles.  It
makes me feel sooooo good, like all *energized* and stuff.

JODIE: (surprised... as if she's never experienced this sensation
before)  Really?

QUINN: (like she can't quite believe it herself)  *Yeah*.  And,
like, the more I work with numbers, the more I feel that way.
I mean before this whole math brigade thing came up, I was working
to please my dad and to keep from failing.  The math problems
were, like, those kinda *dowdy* girls who come up to you wanting
make-over advice, and you've got this, like, gift for coordinating
so why *not* help them, even if they're kind of a lost cause, so
*you* don't get much satisfaction from it.

JODIE: (look of confusion crossing her face)  Um, o-kay...

QUINN:  But after we lost to Cumberland, and I started studying,
it was like, just *me* and the math.  Like being out on a date.
*Wait* -- no... better than that.  (gets a thoughtful frown and
again tries to articulate what she's feeling.)  It's like I'm
out shopping with my dad's platinum at, like, *the* best department
store in the *world*, and I wander through the displays, discovering
styles that I didn't know were *there*, but finding that they all
look *really* good on me.  Not that anything *doesn't*.  (chuckles.)
An' the more I work with math problems, the more I feel that way.
It's like I'm finding newer and *better* ways to shop.

JODIE:  So you're really passionate about math, huh?

QUINN: (with realization)  *Yeah*, I guess.  And that's weird,
'cause I didn't think I could care about *anything* as much as
I care about shopping.

(Beat)

JODIE:  Wow, that's really great.  (wistful.)  Wish I felt that
way about one of my activities.

QUINN:  An' it's like, I wanna share this feeling with the *world*.
But there's no *way* I could share it with my friends, and at home
*Daria's* the "smart" one, an' I think she wants it to *stay* that
way.  (A dark frown briefly passes over her face.)  So math
competition's the only way to do it.  But look, sorry if I've
been running you and the geek trio into the ground.  (chuckles.)

JODIE:  Actually, the "geek trio" was what I wanted to talk
to you about.  (serious.)  I realize Barry, Clarence, and
Melvin are sort of strange --

QUINN:  *Sort* of???  (She rolls her eyes and laughs hard.)

JODIE:  And sometimes *I* get bugged by them, but their hearts
are in the right place.  They've been nothing but nice to you,
and the least you could do is *try* to be a little nice to them.

QUINN: (resistant)  Jodie, it's not that I'm some kind of mean
*witch*, but this whole being on the mathletics squad thing is
pushing me dangerously close to that ledge that separates popular
people from the social *rejects*.  So by mocking Barry, Clarence,
and the *third* one, I'm reassuring myself that I'm *me* and *not*
one of them.  (She gets a satisfied look on her face.)

JODIE:  Oh.  I see.  (groans and rolls her eyes.)  How could I
possibly argue with such thoroughly *shallow* logic?  Well fine,
do whatever you want.

(She spins around and heads toward the dining room.  Quinn
watches her with a mixture of irritation and contrition.  *She*
feels she's perfectly justified in her behavior, but she doesn't
want any of her teammates mad at her.)

QUINN:  Jodie -- wait.  (rolls her eyes.)  I will say *one* nice
thing to them, all right??

(Beat)

JODIE:  It'd be a start.

QUINN:  But nothing that'll make 'em think I *like* them...

(Cut to shot of Barry, Clarence, and Squiggley in the dining
room.  Quinn and Jodie reenter, Quinn looking resigned.  Jodie
nods at her curtly, then turns to the group.)

JODIE:  Guys, Quinn has something she wants to say to you.

(The guys look at her with expressions of exaggerated interest.
Barry gets an "Oh please, oh PLEASE" look.  Quinn shifts around
with discomfort and takes a long time before saying: )

QUINN:  You, um... don't, um, suck.  For *nerds*, I mean.

(Jodie raises her brow wearily at her: "That's *it*?"  But the
guys look as though she's paid them the highest compliment ever.)

BARRY:  Did you hear that??  I *knew* she liked me!

QUINN: (rolling her eyes)  That's *not* what I meant --

BARRY:  An' I was starting to wonder if I was doing the right
thing, being nice to you while you were always acting so mean.

QUINN: (eyes widening)  *Huh*??

CLARENCE:  Y-yeah.  (He makes an exaggerated face, with eyes
widened, a scrunched-up nose, and mouth parted to suggest what
Quinn looks like when she's disgusted with something.)

SQUIGGLEY:  If you don't mind me sayin' so, or nothing, you seem
like you hate everything.  Kept thinking how sad it was... an'
stuff.  (He looks embarrassed, as though he expects Quinn to fly
into a rage and start beating him over the head.)

(Jodie looks at them with an expression that's both stunned
and impressed: she'd never thought they were that perceptive.
She glances at Quinn.  Quinn has gone quiet, and seems genuinely
remorseful.)

BARRY:  But now, we can celebrate our *togetherness*!

CLARENCE & SQUIGGLEY:  Yeah!!!

BARRY:  Let's go out!  In honor of our last group night before
we face Grove Hills!  How 'bout it??  I know a *great* place for
fried squid... (looks appealingly at Jodie and Quinn.)

JODIE: (for once, looking awkward)  Uh... I don't know... I
should be going...  (Just then, she catches a triumphant smirk
from Quinn: "*Ha*: you're just as afraid to be seen with them as
*I* am."  She turns back to Barry and smiles.)  Sure, I'd love to.

BARRY:  And you, Quinn??

QUINN: (hesitant)  Um, is it on the outskirts of town?  (Barry
nods.)  *Far* away from any cineplexes, malls, arcades, discotheques,
comedy clubs, or liquor stores where they accept fake I.D.s??
(Barry hesitates, then nods.)  (thought VO)  And it *is* a school
night.  (sighs.)  All right.  I'll go.

BARRY/CLARENCE/SQUIGGLEY:  Yeah!!!!!!!

(Fade-out.  Fade-in to later shot of the five of them sitting
in a dimly-lit corner of a seafood restaurant, with Quinn
positioned as far away from Barry, Clarence, and Squiggley
as possible.  She picks at her food, but doesn't seem to be
suffering *too* much.  Just then, cut to shot of Sandi entering
the restaurant on the arm of an unfamiliar young man.  Cut to
shot of Quinn.  Catching a glimpse of Sandi before she's seen
her, Quinn ducks under the table and hides.  She waits until the
coast is clear, then crawls on her hands and knees toward the
nearest exit.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 5 (Morgendorffer house, next evening)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to shot of Jake, Quinn, and Daria
seated at the table.  Daria has the paper unfolded before her,
but is stealthily observing.  Jake is drilling Quinn, using
flashcards from a huge stack, and the frazzled expression on
his face reveals he's been at it for quite some time.  Quinn,
meanwhile, works out the math problems on scraps of scented
paper.)

JAKE: (holding a card, hand trembling)  F-find all the values of
X.  Two cosine of X minus one equals zero... arctangent of Y
multiplied by sin m-multiplied by twelve o'er thirteen...

QUINN:  *Da-aaad*, come *on*: that doesn't make sense!

JAKE:  I-I-I... (lips tremble.)  I before E, except after C...
now I know my A-B-C's...

(Quinn rolls her eyes.  "Dad's losing it.")

JAKE: (voice taking on a gruff tone)  What's the *matter*,
son??!  Can't handle a few MATH problems??!  Well no *wonder*
you took home the gold medal for only *one* lousy STINKING
year!!!  (normal voice, angry.)  Oh *boy*, it's ALL coming
back to me *now*, dammit!!!

DARIA: (laying aside the paper, sardonic)  *I'll* carry out the
mission, soldier.  You're free to take leave.

JAKE: (mumbling)  Don't trust me to do this *myself*, huh??
*He* never trusted me... (Suddenly Jake's weariness gets the
better of him, and he falls asleep with his head on the kitchen
table.)

QUINN: (rolling her eyes)  Great, just great.  (eyes Daria
warily.)  Okay, *you* can quiz me, then.  But don't make any of
your stupid comments.

DARIA:  Moi?  (picks up the stack of cards Jake was using and
looks them over.)  Hmm, pretty nice penmanship.  Did your
teacher make these for you?

QUINN:  Mmm-hmm.  Now come *on*, I have to practice my
timing.

(Instead of reading the card aloud, Daria merely holds it
up for Quinn to see.  Quinn rolls here eyes and groans --
obviously Daria's going to be difficult.  She reads the
problem and starts scribbling away.)

DARIA: (realizing this is the chance to probe her a little)
You've been spending a lot of time with this guy, haven't you?

QUINN:  Yep.

DARIA: (slight smirk)  And here I thought you couldn't stand
him.  So what changed?

QUINN: (concentrating)  Mmm, dunno.  Phelps is just real
persuasive.

DARIA:  In a *good* way, I presume?

QUINN:  *Yes*.  (slaps down her pencil, looks at Daria with
suspicious eyes.)  Look, *where* are you going with this??  If
you're not gonna just *shut* up an' quiz me, then I'll take this
upstairs to my room.

(Daria rolls her eyes, shows Quinn another card.  Quinn emits
another little angry groan and sets to work.  Daria meanwhile,
looks thoughtfully at one of the cards -- they're on the same
level as the types of problems she works with in class, or maybe
slightly more advanced.  She flips one over on its backside,
takes a pen, and scribbles a new formula, with a few more twists
than the original.  Prepares to show it to Quinn.)

DARIA:  Hey, I'm merely commending your teacher for doing the
impossible: getting you to push aside the Fashion Club *and*
all of your other classes just to cram for a two-hour event.
(Quinn scribbles, tries to ignore her.)  Someone who's *that*
good with math brains ought to be voted Teacher of the Year.
Assuming there *are* other math brains he gives help to --

QUINN:  DAR-EEE-UHH!!!  (slams down her pencil, picks up a
watch and glances at the time.)  Would you SHUT UP?!  I'm
making lousy time!

DARIA: (without contrition)  Oops.

QUINN:  *All* teachers think *their* subject is the only
*one*, all right?!  Do you *really* believe Mr. *O'Neill*
thinks of Ms. Barch's class when he gives you a stupid paper
to do??

DARIA:  Yes... and every *other* chance he can possibly get.

QUINN:  All right, *bad* example.

DARIA:  Look, you have a point -- but how many teachers
outright *request* that their students push aside everything
else for the sake of their *one* subject?  Isn't that
ultimately to the student's detriment?

QUINN:  The student's *what*?  (angrier.)  Geez, Daria,
what do *you* care if Mr. Phelps is a little more *driven*
than the other teachers?!  He's not *your* teacher.

DARIA:  You weren't so kind to him when you thought he was
controlling you.

(Just as she's finished uttering these last words, Helen
sweeps into the kitchen, armed with files.)

HELEN: (half-distracted, has only caught part of the
conversation)  Oh *Daria*, do we have to go through this
again??

DARIA:  Huh?

HELEN:  Don't be jealous just because *Quinn's* teacher
gives her more attention than *your* teachers do you.
It *doesn't* mean you're *any* less intelligent.

[*] see "Of Absolute Value"

DARIA:  I wasn't --

QUINN: (hurt expression)  That's what this is *about*, isn't
it??  Your stupid questions.  You're trying to keep me from
*doing* well!

DARIA: (rolling her eyes)  Of all the idiotic --

HELEN:  *Daria*!

QUINN:  Ah *ha*, you see?!  She's been like this for over a
*week*, Mother.  First she tells me I'm not *really* good at
math, that all of my success is just *dumb* luck.  Then she
tells me my math teacher's a big *freak*?!

HELEN: (to Daria)  Did you *really* say those things?

DARIA: (defensive)  *Yes*, but only because --

QUINN: (tremor in her voice) Mr. Phelps is the *first* teacher
I've ever had who thought I was *smart* at something!  You've
been a brain your whole life; you don't know how that *feels*!

DARIA: (uncomfortable)  Um, no... (shakes her head.)  But
if you'd *let* me get a word in edgewise, I'd mention that
I've wanted you to take school more seriously since you first
got glasses.  Why the *hell* would I try to undo that now?

QUINN:  Because *maybe* all you really wanted was for me to
suffer through all the loser nerd trials *you've* suffered
through, just so you can go "Ha, ha, now *you* know what my life
is like," an' feel all *validated* and stuff.

DARIA: (a little stunned by the lucidity of her comment)
That's... just *ridiculous*.

QUINN:  But you never wanted me to be as smart as you.  (eyes
narrow.)  Or *smarter*.

(Pause.  Helen looks at Daria questioningly, Quinn accusingly.
Daria looks as though she *wants* to speak, but in the face
of sudden, conflicting emotions that leave her with that odd
expression we've seen her wear earlier, she can't think of a
comeback that would clear her motives.  She glances down at
the tampered-with card, realizing she's losing the battle.)

DARIA: (rolling her eyes)  Your charges are completely
*groundless*, but feel free to think what you want.  You
obviously will, anyway.

QUINN:  You wanna know what I *think*??  I think if you can't
handle your *brain* territory being *appoached* upon then you
should just stop *helping* me!!  And don't *spy* on me at the
*freakin'* mathletic tournaments, either!!!

HELEN: (trying to calm her down) Quinn...

QUINN:  JUST DON'T EVEN *COME*!!!!

(In a fit of melodramatic passion, she jumps up, pushes
aside her chair, and storms out of the room.  All of the
racket causes Jake to stir.)

JAKE: (confused)  Huh... what??

(He looks questioningly at Daria, as does Helen.  Daria
glances at the card with the tampered-with math problem
and numbly tosses it onto the table.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 6 (Lawndale High, day before the tournament)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to shot of Ms. Li reading a familiar
calligraphied note, looking enraged.)

MS. LI:  "... And *our* youngsters will mop the floor
with yourrrrr mathletes, whose intelligence is as *flimsy*
as your *textbooks*!!"  (crumples the paper.)  This is
*outrageous*!  To think I actually *sent* two of my best
and *brightest* to that damn stuffed-shirt *factory*!  Well
neverrrrr again!

(She tosses the note into the garbage.)

MS. LI:  I didn't even know we *had* a mathletics squad!
But when Grove Hills comes on ourrr turf, I'll have the whole
*school* out cheering for our side...

(fade-out.  fade-in to: )

SCENE 7 (Lawndale High, afternoon of the mathletic
competition)

(Shot of the outside of the auditorium.  Cut to shot of
the inside, which is packed to the bursting point with students,
many of whom are wearing some variety of the Lawndale colors
or are waving flags.  Cut to close-up of Daria and Jane.)

JANE: (faux enthusiasm)  Whoo-hoo.  *Another* fieldtrip
foisted on us by Ms. Li in a misguided attempt to promote
school spirit.  (yawns.)  Well at least we don't have to
leave town this time.

DARIA: (distant)  Nope.

(Beat)

JANE:  *Now* what's up?  Are you still thinking about Phelps?

DARIA:  Mmm-hmm.  (groans.)  Or rather, that maybe that I *am*
just a wacko who's using this whole conspiracy theory to
mask my bitter envy of Quinn's math talent.  I can't deny
I've been feeling *something* weird ever since her tryout.

JANE:  Maybe *you're* a jealous wacko, but I'm not.  I saw what
happened.  Phelps is a hypocrite, plain and simple.

DARIA:  Maybe so.  (Bt)  And *maybe* he's a hypocrite because
his hands are already too full with guiding a reluctant progidy
along, and he doesn't want to deal with another one.

JANE:  Hmmm... (cocks an eyebrow in thought.)

DARIA:  I'd go apologize, but Quinn would never exchange words
with me in public.

JANE:  You forget, my friend: the little prodigy is about to
flash her goods in front of *all* her friends, rivals, and
hangers-on.  If she's already caught on to what's about to occur,
than she's probably ten miles away by now.

(Daria thinks of this, and can't resist a wicked smirk.)

(Cut to shot of Quinn in one of the prep rooms backstage,
eyes closed, concentrating deeply.)

QUINN: (muttering)  What is two log X base ten times two X... She
thinks she knows *everything*.  Well I don't *care*... plus
log base ten times three equals log base ten times six... I don't
care, I *never* cared... *stupid* Daria!

BARRY: (offscreen)  You know Daria?

QUINN: (looking up at him)  I wish I *didn't*.

BARRY:  Me, *too*!  She's a teaser an'-an' a *liar*!  If I ever
see her again, I'm gonna *tell* her off, you *bet* I will!

QUINN: (impressed)  You *would*??  (Bt)  Wow, that's, like, one
of the *nicest* things anyone's ever said to me!

(Cut to shot of Jodie.  She's just peaked out from behind
the curtain and gotten a whiff of the growing crowd.  Wearing
a slightly stunned expression, she is about to head to Team
Lawndale's table when she runs into Graham -- the snobby guy
from "Gifted.")

GRAHAM: (smirking with superiority)  Well if it *isn't* the
girl who dared to call me "loser."

JODIE: (eyes narrowing, even tone)  And if it isn't the guy
who did so much to *deserve* that name.

GRAHAM:  Hey!  (angry at her quick-wittedness.)  You may *think*
you were smart, the way you chewed me out at that Grove Hills
reception in front of my friends, but all that *ends* the moment
we face off in the mathletics tournament!

JODIE: (smirking)  Ooh.  Should I be quivering with fear?

GRAHAM: (leaning closer)  You laugh now, but just you *wait*.
Our *superior* brain power's gonna blow your woefully-inadequate
squad right off the stage!

JODIE:  You sure it'll be your *brain*-power that's blowing?

GRAHAM:  You... you... (for lack of better words.)  Um, why
don't you just *shut* up?!

(He storms away to join his teammates.  Cut to shot of his
teammates sitting at their table, including the other two girls
seen in "Gifted," Lara and Cassidy.)

LARA: (snide)  God, I hope we can just get *out* of here as
soon as we win.  This whole school is so *banal*: it's giving
me hives.

CASSIDY:  *Yeah*.  Did you *see* the size of their reading
facility?  About *half* as large as the gym -- and it didn't
even have a Classical Scrolls of Alexandria section *or* a
built-in coffee bar!

LARA:  You can just *feel* the mediocrity vibrating across
the walls.  I mean *pink* pastel?  What were they *thinking*??

GRAHAM: (back in smirking form)  And *here* the brains are
forced to mix with the *decorative* types.  Like *her*.
(He points to Quinn, who has just emerged from the back room.)

(Cut to close-up of Quinn.  She freezes upon overhearing these
last words.)

CASSIDY: (offscreen)  That's if they even *remain* brains.
Constant exposure to the *common* people has *got* to have
some kind of diluting effect.

(Graham and Lara chuckle in agreement.  Then Graham whistles
to Quinn in an effort to get her attention.  Quinn ignores
him and storms away, toward the curtain.)

QUINN: (fuming)  "Diluting"?!  As in, like, exposure to *me*
sucks up *other* people's brain power?!  (Bt)  Well *I'll*
show them!  Thank God *no* one attends these competitions
because I'm gonna show a side of myself that my friends should
*not* see for their own good!  (Bt)  Though come to think of it,
for an empty auditorium, it's kinda *loud*... (She opens up the
curtain and instantly goes pale.)

(Shot of the crowded auditorium from her POV.  Cut to shot of
Stacy and Tiffany sitting somewhere in the center, surrounded
on all sides by people in hip hop fashions.  In fact, almost
everyone in the auditorium, except for the principal characters,
is dressed in hip hop.  Stacy and Tiffany glance around,
utterly panicked.)

STACY: (hyperventilating mildly)  Oh God... oh God...

TIFFANY:  Just... don't... move.  Maybe they won't notice us.

STACY:  I wish Quinn was here!  *Why* did her aunt have to
have that *stupid* baby today, anyway?!

TIFFANY:  What is *wrong* with that family?!

(Cut to shot of Kevin, Brittany, and the cheerleaders, sitting
up front.)

ANGIE:  Eww, *nerds*.  How're we supposed to cheer for *them*?

NIKKI:  Do we, like, wave a pom-pom if they get the
*multiplication* tables correct?

BRITTANY: (shrugging)  I *guess* so.  (suddenly springs
upward.)  Gooooooooo *chess* club!!!

ANGIE:  Uhh... Brittany?

LISA:  Oh, like it *matters*.

(Cut to shot of Quinn.  She drops the curtain and pulls
back in absolute shock.  Trembling, she starts walking off of
the stage -- *fast*.  She's just about down the stairs when she
runs into Mr. Phelps, coming from the opposite direction.)

PHELPS:  Ah, I hoped I'd see you before the tournament.

QUINN: (speedy)  Yes, yes, the pencils are 2B and the
tables are balanced.  I gotta go get some air... (tries to
brush past him.)

PHELPS:  Wait just a minute.  (holds up his hand to restrain
her.)  I also came to wish you good luck.  (cocks a brow.)
I've prepared you thoroughly.  Now it's time you showed the
world what you're *really* made of.

(Quinn nods, swallows hard.)

PHELPS:  Are you *nervous*, Ms. Morgendorffer?  (smirks.)
That *is* the name that you'll be using this time
'round, isn't it?

QUINN: (nodding frantically)  Um, right... nervous...
*yeah*.  (She then runs past him out the side door of the
auditorium.)

(Fade-out.  Fade-in to a short time later.  Shot of the front
of the stage, with the Examiner standing at a podium, between
two tables.  At one table are the five Grove Hills mathletes,
sitting firmly upright with smug expressions on their faces.
At the other is, of course, Lawndale.  Jodie, Barry, Squiggley,
and Clarence are anxiously craning their necks around, searching
for any sign of Quinn.)

EXAMINER:  ... and Weseley Vanderhorn will all be representing
Grove Hills Academy!  (As if on cue, a chorus of "booos" are
heard around the auditorium.  Cut to brief shot of Ms. Li in
the audience, nodding her head with approval.)  And to my right,
we have Melvin Squiggley, Clarence Nickelson...

(Cut to close-up of Jodie.  She leans toward Barry.)

JODIE: (whispering)  She's not coming.  We *have* to call in
an alternate!

BARRY:  No, no... let's give her more time!  Maybe she's putting
on her make-up.

JODIE:  Then we'll be lucky if we see her at *all* over the
next few days.  (groans.)  Come *on* Quinn... don't *do* this
to us.

(Cut to shot of the bottom of the stairs.  There, in the shadows,
we see Quinn lurking.  She seriously looks torn.  She removes
some prescription sunglasses from her bag and puts them on, toys
frantically with her hair, trying to disguise herself well enough
to fool her classmates.)

EXAMINER: (offscreen)  ... Jodie Landon, Barry Bukowski...

(Finally Quinn removes the sunglasses and wilts.  She knows it
won't do any good -- people recognized her in her disguise the
last time.  She glances uneasily at the stage, then closes her
eyes and takes a deep breath.  She leans toward the door.)

(Cut to shot of the Examiner.  He looks at the last name
on the card, then at the empty spot at Team Lawndale's table.)

EXAMINER:  Well... it appears as though Gwen Morgan is a
no-show.  (to Team Lawndale)  You'll have to forfeit unless you
call in a replacement.

(The Lawndale matheletes eye each other, resigned.  But before
they can respond, we see Quinn bound on stage.  She makes a
beeline for the Examiner, trying not to look at the audience,
and whispers something in his ear.  You can pretty much *guess*
the audience's reaction [even before I show it to you].)

(A chorus of gasps echoes throughout the room.  Cut to shot of
Stacy and Tiffany -- shocked.  Cut to shot of Kevin, Brittany,
and the cheerleaders -- shocked.  Cut to shot of the 3 J's --
beyond shocked.  Cut to shot of Daria and Jane, looking vaguely
pleased.  Cut to shot of Sandi, sitting on the periphery.  Her
face is impassive, but she cocks a brow.  Cut to shot of Phelps
sitting just below Ms. Li.  He nods, as if he knew this would
happen all along.)

(Resume shot of Quinn.  Face burning, she slides into her
seat and lowers her eyes.)

EXAMINER: (announcing)  Filling in for Gwen Morgan at first
chair will be... *Quinn* Morgendorffer!

(As if to accentuate the significance of the occasion, the
microphone squeaks when the man calls out Quinn's last name.
Quinn continues to look at the table top and not talk to anyone.
Just then, Jodie leans over and touches her arm.)

JODIE: (with some exasperation and amusement)  You *really* know
how to make an entrance.  (When she sees this elicits little
reaction from Quinn: )  Hey, whatever happens, you'll be fine.
Good luck.

BARRY/CLARENCE/SQUIGGLEY:  Yeah, good luck!

(Quinn can't resist a small, grateful smile.  Cut to shot of
Grove Hills, watching with smug amusement.)

GRAHAM:  Oh *man*.  They have *got* to be kidding?  First
chair to *that* girl?

LARA:  She *probably* can't even count to *ten* without stopping
to take a break.

(Quinn overhears them, of course.  Sizzling indignation replaces
embarrassment, at least for the time being.  She turns her head
toward Graham, who occupies Grove Hills's first chair, and smiles
coyly.  Graham can't resist being drawn in momentarily, before
wrenching his eyes away to focus on his paper.)

EXAMINER:  All right, we'll start with Logarithms.  *First*
question...

GRAHAM: (scowling, sotto voice as the Examiner reads the
question)  No way.  *No* trophy chick like *that* is going
to get the best of Graham T. Salinger the Third!  There are
*two* kinds of people in this world.  Those of us with *brains*
and talent to hold an *edge* over the lesser of our species,
and those who were born to waste their lives away as complete
*dimwits*.  And *she*, without a *doubt*, is a --

QUINN:  *Done*!

(Graham's pencil falls out of his hand, onto the desktop, as
he looks at her in shock.  A silence ensues, as the Examiner
checks her answer.)

EXAMINER:  Correct!  One point for Lawndale.

(Scattered applause throughout the auditorium follows, particularly
loud in the section where Li is sitting.  On stage, Team Lawndale
starts clapping loudly for Quinn.  Cut to shot of Stacy and
Tiffany, eyeing each other uneasily, not sure whether to clap
or not.  Cut to shot of Daria.  She has that uneasy expression
on her face again, but is nonetheless clapping slowly.  Cut to shot
of Quinn.  She gets that steely, competitve look in her eyes again.
As the Examiner reads off questions, a montage follows, accompanied
by the music to "St. Elmo's Fire.")

EXAMINER: (offscreen) ... Solve in terms of B.  If two B minus
three log base ten equals F...

(Shot of Quinn against Lara.  Quinn lays her pencil down several
seconds ahead of Lara, folds her arms confidently, and mouths the
word "Done.")

(Shot of the chalkboard showing Lawndale up by five points.)

(Overhead shot of Quinn and Cassidy, frantically working out
a problem.)

EXAMINER: (offscreen) ... If X to the third power minus four X
squared...

(Cut to shot of Team Lawndale, watching anxiously.  Cut to shot
of Phelps, who also appears to be watching intently.  Resume
shot of Quinn and Cassidy.  Quinn looks as though she's about
to shout "Done," but Cassidy beats her to the punch.  Quinn gets
a dispirited look on her face, and slides out of the first chair.
As she heads down to the end of the table, her teammates clap
for her effort.  The Grove Hills side exchanges high-fives.)

(Cut to shot of Barry against Cassidy, sometime later.  He puts
up his hand to say "Done!" somehow causing his pencil to fly
through the air in the process.  It lands on Squiggley's pencil,
causing it to fly up and hit him on the head.  Squiggley looks
stunned.)

(Cut to shot of the blackboard.  It shows Lawndale with the lead,
though narrower.)

(Cut to shot of Barry against another Grove Hills mathlete.
The Grove Hills guy beats him to the punch.)

(Cut to shot of Jodie against the same mathlete.  She beats
him.)

(Cut to shot of the audience.  Many appear to be dozing, but
others have tense looks on their faces.  We see Brittany in front,
unconsciously waving a pom-pom.)

(Fade-out.  Fade-in to shot a short time later of all of the
mathletes gathered together in the group round.  Cut to close-up
of Team Lawndale.  They're scribbling down formula's their papers,
and by the body movements, it looks as though Quinn is one of
the ones leading the way.  Seconds later, all five mathletes
raise their hand to show they've got the answer.)

(Cut to shot of Daria, watching, still wearing the uneasy look
on her face.  She claps, then, just by chance happens to glance
off to the side.  Cut to shot of Phelps's side profile from
her POV.  Daria's a distance away, so he looks slightly blurry,
but we can see him moving his lips wordlessly.)

EXAMINER: (offscreen)  Find all the values of X between...

(Pause)

QUINN: (offscreen)  *Done*!

(Phelps smirks.  Cut to shot of Daria, her eyes narrowing with
suspicion.  Cut to shot of Phelps from her POV again.  He
again mouths wordlessly, just before the Examiner reads the
question.  After a pause:)

QUINN & BARRY: (offscreen)  *Done*!

(Cut to shot of Daria.  She's frowning even harder now.  She
pulls her eyes away, toward the stage, for a few moments.  As Daria's
preoccupied by what's happening on stage, cut to shot of Phelps.
At one point, he reaches into his pocket and removes a pen with a
calligraphy tip.  He scribbles something down on a scrap of paper,
then slides the pen back in.)

(Fade-out.  Fade-in to show the score tied up, and one question
left [of course].  Cut to shot of the audience.  There are *still*
many people dozing, but even more people now look tense, and there
are several muted cheers heard around the auditorium.  Cut to shot
of the mathletes, intensely at work on a very difficult problem.
Pan over each of their faces, focusing, in particular, on Quinn's
and the Grove Hills' students.  After a few tense moments: )

TEAMS LAWNDALE & GROVE HILLS:  *Done*!!!

(A gasp throughout the audience, and several more tense moments
as the Examiner walks with torturous speed to check the answers
from both sides.  After several more tense seconds:)

EXAMINER:  Lawndale is *correct*!  Grove Hills is *wrong*!
Lawndale wins!

(Several of the tense people now release suppressed cheers.
Smatterings of applause are heard throughout the room -- not as
much as one might hear at a football rally, or something, but
enough to show that a great many people were not indifferent to
the mathletes' efforts.  Jane wakes up from her nap, starts
clapping.  Daria, meanwhile, glances over in Phelps's direction
again.  Li has turned around to face him.)

MS. LI:  I *must* sayyy, Mr. Phelps, this is *very* impressive.
Who'd've thought *mathletics* could actually be... entertaining??
Keep up the good winning -- I mean *work*!

PHELPS: (smirking)  I certainly intend to.

(Resume shot of Daria, looking annoyed.  Cut to shot of the stage.
On the Grove Hills side, Graham is crying, his head buried in his
arms on the table.)

GRAHAM: (to his teammates) (sniff, sniff)  Don't LOOK at meee!!

(Meanwhile, the Lawndale side is congratulating each other.
Quinn hangs back a little, but she seems, at least for the time
being, as grateful toward her teammates for all of their effort as
they are to her.  But as the adrenaline wears off, her fears return.
Quinn looks offscreen, and wilts a little.  Cut to shot of the
audience from her POV: the 3 J's are nowhere to be found, and Stacy
and Tiffany still sit there awkwardly.  Resume shot of Quinn.  She
gets a bleak look on her face, and doesn't even notice when Barry,
Clarence, and Squiggley make a clumsy effort to carry her off the
stage in victory.)

(fade-out.  fade-in to: )

SCENE 8 (Morgendorffer house, that evening)

(Shot of the outside.)

QUINN: (to Stacy, mustering a cheery tone)  You don't
think too many people are mad at me, do you?

(Cut to shot of Quinn lying on her bed, cordless phone
to her ear, the door to her room partially open.)

STACY: (from the receiver)  I don't know.

QUINN: (quickly)  I mean Joey, Jeffy and the third one
called me, like, an hour after I got home and I arranged
dates with all three.  Brittany said she wasn't mad, in
fact she thought it was kinda *neat*, and so did Angie
and Lisa, who've *always* admired me, even before I was
their head cheerleader.  Maybe Tori and Brooke hate me,
but I don't really like *them* too well anyway, so I don't
care.  And Sandi hasn't said anything.

STACY: (neutral-toned)  That's good.

QUINN: (brow creasing with worry)  But just the same, I
was really concerned about what you and Tiffany might
think about me being on the *math* squad, so don't you
see why I said those things about the bone marrow transplant
and stuff?

STACY:  Um... yeah.  I see.

QUINN: (most appealing tone)  But I *have* been neglecting
you, so what say tomorrow we go shopping for summer evening
wear?

(Beat)

STACY:  Sure.  (Bt)  If you're not too busy.

QUINN:  Geek brigade is practically *over*, Stacy.  And
then things'll be back to normal, *right*?? (uneasy laugh,
waits for a reply.)

(Cut to shot of Daria, standing outside the door, having
heard this last bit.)

DARIA:  I'm afraid not even *you* know the answer to that one.



**********************
THE END
[roll the credits.........................]


COMMENTARY

[I'm going to *try* and make this shorter than usual, since
I include a snippet of "The Age of Cynicism" at the end.  Wish
me luck: I'll need it.]

The minority of DWU fans who've confessed to hating Quinn
as much as they love my writing will be thrilled to know
that this is my *last* Quinn's-self-discovery fanfic.  Heh,
it's not because I've "seen the light," as some of you might
hope -- far from it.  It's because by DWU #16, Quinn has come
full circle.

In "Rose-Colored Lenses" and "Cheered Down," she saw *some* value
in studying, but not enough to convince her that it was worth
sacrificing her popularity.  Things started to change in "Of
Absolute Value," when Quinn actually *did* sacrifice her big moment
in the sun to study for a make-up math exam.  But one gets the
feeling her motives were tailored toward making Jake happy rather
than because she felt any burning passion for her subject.  In
"Erin the Head," it's briefly shown that Quinn did not *totally* hate
having to work with Mr. Phelps after school.  And by "Charge of the
Math Brigade," Quinn has learned to love math.

Yet ironically, this is not a completely *positive* thing. ; >  Now
we're left with the following questions:

**Is Quinn *really* as smart as Phelps has suggested in
previous fics?

**What is Phelps up to?  Is he a force of good or evil?
(And don't just assume you know based on the clues I've
presented in this fic; I always try to surprise people. ; >)

**Is Daria properly concerned, or is a bit of sibling jealousy
at work within her?

**Would Quinn's total plunge into math, at the expense of
everything else, be a positive thing?

These questions will matter a little or a lot to you, depending upon
how much you give a damn about Quinn as a character.  And I'd like
to take this moment to clarify *my* feelings toward Quinn.  Yes, she
is one of my favorite characters, and I take great interest in her
development.  But that does *not* mean I overlook her character flaws.
She can be beat-your-head-against-the-wall shallow, as in "Psycho
Therapy" (which I'll get to in a minute).  She can be incredibly
thoughtless.  *I* would like to see her get some punishment
or show *some* remorse for having called Daria her cousin these past
four seasons.  Sometimes I want to shake her when she commits a mental
lapse, the way she did when she gave away the bail money in
"Speedtrapped."  (And during those times, I want to shake the *writers*,
too, since they can't seem to make up their *minds* whether Quinn is
totally shallow or marginally compassionate, street smart or an
airhead, gutsy and competitive or a *jellyfish*.)

But I see Quinn as someone with potential.  And I suspect the writers
don't intend to keep her one-dimensional, especially taking into
account that Season Four seems to carry a theme of "re-examining your
identity," as was the case with Daria in "Partner's Complaint," Jane
in "The 'F' Word," and Helen in "Psycho Therapy."  Quinn may yet show
a glimmer of depth, the likes of which we haven't seen since "Monster,"
in "Groped By An Angel."  I'm not going to assume anything; I'm keeping
my fingers crossed.  (I voiced similar thoughts about "Speedtrapped"
when it aired, and I don't even want to *think* about what went wrong
there.  Not right now. ; >)

On top of having potential, I see Quinn as inherently more *troubled*
than Daria.  While all signs suggest that Daria is fairly grounded,
one cannot say the same for Quinn.  That's why, I think, there are so
many fanfics that have her getting raped or taking on a completely new
identity; her life is one big question mark.  Thus, I feel as though
Quinn, as a character, needs more love and attention so that she can
be set right.  Many fans refuse to let go of their scorn of her, so
*I* like to pick up the slack.  Kind of like a mother who loves her
kid unconditionally, but is not blind to her problems.  I mean
*someone* has to pay attention to that girl, because her parents
certainly don't.  Quinn may get plenty of material goods, but
compared to Daria, she's rarely asked about her day, or about
what she's feeling, or if she needs to talk.  Part of the problem
might be her stand-offish, I'm-in-control demeanor, the kind that
keeps Quinn from wanting to be touched in any meaningful way.  But
how the hell did she *get* that way if not because of her parents?
Whatever made them pay so much attention to Daria has certainly
not worked in Quinn's favor.  I've long suspected it, but Helen's
"I don't even want to *think*" line from "Psycho Therapy" blew
the lid off the popular notion that *Daria* is the neglected one
in the Morgendorffer family.  I would like to read Helen's line as a
sign that she's woken up to the fact that Quinn needs *help*; but
I'm afraid it could also be a sign that she's given up on her. <sigh>

Help is what Quinn needs if she's ever going to amount to anything.
And in order for Quinn to reach the level where she's at in my
continuum, several significant things would have to happen.  1)
She'd have to learn that she could have a life *beyond* popularity
(something which was instigated by her getting glasses).  2) Her
parents would have to get more involved in her education (as in
"Of Absolute Value").  And 3) Quinn would have to find a teacher
or friend or *sibling* who "believed" in her.  But until that
happens, Quinn will probably never see the light, which would be
a shame.  Even if it's revealed on the show that she's not as
smart as Daria, she's *definitely* not a lost cause.

Moving on to mathletics: *why* mathletics?  I'm not sure. ; >  I
figured the mathletics squad would be the perfect vehicle for
accelerating the trends (no pun intended) we've seen up 'til now.
Quinn's growing irritation with her Fashion Club minions; her
fear of losing popularity; her struggle to not only accept math,
but to like it.  Plus, it also reveals a delicious bit of irony:

(From "Cheered Down":)

DARIA:  Quinn, there're *lots* of things you could do.

QUINN:  But nothing that's as good!  What -- join the math brigade
or the French club or... *taxidermy*??  (shudders.)

Ohhh how things change.

That said, I'll confess that like any good author, I've made up
and embellished a *lot* about mathletics.  Thank Mike Quinn for
that which is accurate (see Acknowledgements).  Also, thank
"Freaks and Geeks" (THE coolest show aside from "Daria"!!!) for
providing the info. about first chair and the petty bickering
of mathletes. ; >  [Plug: "Freaks and Geeks" got cancelled by NBC
after being jerked around all over the schedule map, making MTV
seem positively *supportive* of "Daria" by comparison.  But on
Saturday evening they're broadcasting the last 3 episodes.
*DON'T* MISS IT!!!!!!!!!  I will add as many !!!!! as possible
so that you'll remember!!!!!!!!!!!!]


Now on to **Points of Interest**...

Quinn in "Psycho Therapy": Aside from Helen's remark, I wanted
to pause on Quinn's show of compassion... or lack of it.  Yes,
I was annoyed by the lack of sympathy our little niblet showed
for Helen after she was practically moved to tears by the role
play scene.  I have no explanation, other than that Quinn was
intended for comic relief in that episode.  Bu-ut, as I pointed
out on the ODMB, Quinn *did* show marginal concern when Daria
ate sugar tarts and chocolate cake for breakfast.  That *has*
to count for *something*.

Or maybe she just didn't want to be sisters with a blimp...

Bringin' Up Barry:  I've been wanting to bring Barry back in a
significant way since "'Shipped Out."  I figured there was no
better fic than one in which several characters of my own
creation appeared. ; >  Why did I choose him, Squiggley, and
Clarence over other nerds that actually *had* appeared on "Daria"?
Lessee... because it's already been proven that Artie is not a
student at Lawndale (and somehow I suspect he's no student,
period).  And Ted wouldn't work because Quinn said that he was
sort of popular in "The New Kid," so it's unlikely she'd find
him all that repulsive if they worked together on the mathletics
squad.  Plus, with the exception of Barry, I needed nerds whose
personalities weren't *so* flashy that they demanded lots of
screen time and would distract from the Phelps intrigue.  In
essence, Clarence and Squiggley are Tiffany and Stacy to Barry's
Sandi or Quinn.

Tom reference:  I just happened to mention in "Of Absolute Value"
that Mr. Phelps had transfered to Lawndale High from a prep school.
And *Daria* just happened to mention that Tom went to a "preparatory
academy" in "Partner's Complaint."  One day a light bulb lit up in
my head, and I thought, "Why not *connect* the two somehow?"  So
Jane's reference to Tom having had Phelps *will* become significant
in future fics.

Where's Sandi?:  In case you thought that after "Primarily Color"
she would be cozy with the Fashion Club once more, you ought to
know me better than that. ; >  What she's up to will be addressed
not too far down the road, probably in DWU #20.


A brief **THE MYSTERIES OF**, having to do with the name on my
e-mail address (see below)...

Many have asked me why I chose "scar" as my nick.  Wellll, long
story.  See, I got the e-mail account when I first started U.C.
Berkeley in 1995, back when the Internet was *still* sort of new,
strange terrain.  I was told it was the territory of single male
antisocial computer geeks who would easily harrass you if they
knew you were female.  "Ha, I know how I can fool them!" I thought.
So I choose an aggressive, masculine name: scar.  Of course,
someone would later point out to me that one need only do a name
check to figure out that I *am* a girl, but I didn't know that
then, so oh well. <shrugs>

Anyway, it doesn't matter now...

*****ANNOUNCING MY NEW E-MAIL ADDRESS!!!****  Due to the fact
that I'm no longer a Berkeley student, I have to retire my
scar@uclink4 address at some point in time. <sigh>  So as of
JULY 10th, my new address will be:

			wild_kl@hotmail.com

At least until I find something better. <sigh>  I'll keep my other
account *just* in case something happens, but it is no longer my
main account.  Good-bye scar!  I'll miss you! <blows kisses>


**Acknowledgements**

I want to thank Mike Quinn, former mathlete extraordinaire, for
being my consultant on this fic... even if I ended up fictionalizing
quite a lot anyway. ; >  The math problems he sent prevented me
from making up a bunch of mumbo-jumbo when I needed formulas.  And
also special thanks to Canadibrit, who braved reading the rough
*rough* version of this fic (on binder paper, literally) when we
met in London, *and* for giving me a good suggestion or two.  And
thanks to Chad Page for being such a good live audience, allowing
me to realize that yes! the nerds *were* funny enough.  *Phew*


**NOW Here's Something New**

Okay, here's the most presentable portion of the yet-unfinished
DWU #15.  *Yes* I have written more than what I'm presenting here;
but that stuff might yet be cut or changed.  And *please* don't
think of this as a SEQUEL or a PREQUEL to anything.  It borrows
from one or two sources, and gently (and I mean *gently*) pokes fun
at other sources, but I aim for this to be original... or at least
as original as a fic in the flashback genre can possibly be. ; >
I delayed putting it out because 1) it was a *complicated* sucker,
not just because of the history, but because I wanted to realistically
portray Helen and Jake's relationship with Helen's parents, which
isn't easy, considering they haven't shown up yet.  Also 2) #15 is
pretty stand-alone, and after such a gap in DWU's, due mostly to
"Abruptly Amy (The Spinoff That Never Was)," I wanted to do a fic
that would move the continuum along.  Anyway, without further ado...


THE AGE OF CYNICISM -- by Kara Wild


ACT ONE

SCENE 1 (Morgendorffer house, noon on a Sunday)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to shot of Daria lounging on
her bed in her room, the cordless phone pressed against
her ear.  She wears her usual deadpan expression.)

DARIA:  So I guess that means Aunt Amy's not my natural-born
mother after all.

JANE: (from the receiver)  And that you *weren't* the
product of a torrid love affair between Helen and a man
who obviously wasn't Jake.

DARIA:  Damn normal life.

(Cut to split screen, Jane on the left, Daria on the right.
Daria cocks an eyelid wearily.)

JANE:  You mean to tell me *this* is how your parents have
forced you to spend Sunday?  Reliving priceless childhood
memories which you couldn't *possibly* relive because you
weren't *alive* yet to have such memories??

DARIA: Even more frightening: this was one of their better
uses of quality time.  (makes a face.)  It only gets worse
from there...

(Wavy fade-out.  Fade-in to an earlier scene of the four
Morgendorffers sitting around the kitchen table, shortly
after breakfast.  Jake and Daria read the paper; Quinn
flips through an issue of Waif.  Helen, of course, has the
cordless phone welded to her ear and is listening intently to
the speaker on the other end.)

HELEN:  Mmm-hmmm... mmm-hmmm... (crooning) Oh we're *so* happy
for you.  This is just *wonderful* news!  (laughs a wee bit
uneasily.)  And twins... are you sure?  (Pause)  Oh, how...
wonderful!

(Daria lowers the paper ever so slightly, wearing a skeptical
expression.  The forced nature of her mom's enthusiasm has
not escaped her.)

HELEN:  Well we'll give you *all* the support you need over
these coming months.  (Pause)  All right... all right.  Now
you take care of yourself.  Bye.  (hangs up the phone.)

JAKE:  Wow, Eric's having twins? (raises a thumb.)  Way to
*go*, big man!

HELEN:  Eric??  Don't be silly, Jake: Eric's not *married*.
(She laughs a little too hard at this one.)

DARIA:  Your point being?

HELEN:  That was *Erin*.  Our *niece*.  (forehead creases
with concern.)  She's pregnant.

DARIA/JAKE/QUINN: (frowning, recalling the events in
"Erin the Head") Mmmmmmmmm...

QUINN:  Eww!  You mean she's gonna be all *bloated* for
nine months?!

DARIA:  And that's the part she'll remember most fondly.

HELEN: (rolling her eyes)  *Honestly*, Daria.

DARIA: After a daily dose of shrieking and nights of insomnia
drive her into the mental institution.

HELEN: (firmly)  Erin will be a wonderful mother.  I'm
sure of it.

JAKE:  *Yeah*, kiddo!  And ol' Brian'll learn how to be
a great dad!

DARIA: And just what is your basis of comparison?

JAKE:  Well *hey*: we figured out how to raise *you*,
didn't we?  (Daria regards him with a deadpan expression.)
Didn't we??

HELEN:  Of *course* we did.  (looks at Jake and giggles
a little, then glances at Daria with a distinctly maternal
expression.)  Oh God, Jake, do you remember what we went
through the months before we had Daria?  The high hopes,
the anxiety --?

JAKE: The want ads, the empty bank account... (chuckles,
then glances at Daria with the same expression as Helen.)

(Cut to close-up of Daria, armed with a wary expression.)

DARIA: (offscreen VO from the present)  The looks.  The
minute I saw them, I knew I was trapped.  Unless...

(Pan over to close-up of an irritated Quinn, her arms
folded.)

QUINN: We're *not* gonna sit here an' talk about *Daria*
are we??  Gaaawd!  Why does *everything* have to be about
her?!  Why can't we talk about *my* upcoming birth??

(Cut to close-up of Helen.  Her eyes trail away thoughtfully
as wavy lines appear, indicating another flashback.  When
they disperse, we see her several years younger, seated on
an examining table.  A doctor stands beside her.)

DOCTOR:  Well, Mrs. Morgendorffer, it looks as though another
one's on the way.

HELEN: (clearly panicked)  A *second* child?!  But I just
had the *first* one!  This *can't* be true -- it's going to
*completely* ruin my five-year plan!

(Wavy fade-out.  Fade-in to Helen of the present.  She
laughs uneasily.)

HELEN: (to Quinn)  Oh-ho, sweetie: we'll have *plenty*
of time for that.  But for now...

DARIA: (thought VO)  Damn.

(Wavy fade-out into flashback once *again*.  Fade-in to
shot of a rusty brown Chevrolet station wagon, obviously
dating back to the early-70's, obviously second-hand.  A
"Carter/Mondale 1980" sticker is spread across the bumper.
As it continues to travel down a road, cut to the inside.
There we see Helen and Jake as they looked in late summer,
1980.  Helen has Farrah Fawcett hair, while Jake's hair has
been tamed down from its '70's fro.  As Jake drives, he whistles
to John Lennon's "Imagine," which plays on the radio.  Helen
looks as though she has just sucked poison.)

HELEN: (insincere)  Who'd have thought that Keenak and Seren--
I mean, Calvin and Vanessa -- could have *such* an adorable
child??

JAKE:  Yeah, I'll say.  (chuckles, imitates a baby's speech.)
Hi-hi, Unkoo Jakie.  I wuvoo.  Pull ma finger.

HELEN:  It's just such a shame that his parents have...
you know.

JAKE:  Sure do.  (Bt)  What?

HELEN:  Sold *out*.  (sighs heavily.)  After five short years,
they've become pawns of the Establishment.  *Morgaged*, credit
card debts -

JAKE: (getting angry) Damn Calvin and his *neat-o* Japanese
car! (He pounds the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare.)

HELEN: (sighing)  Just *what* sort of legacy will they be
passing on to their kid??  At least you and I can take *pride*
in our lifestyle.

(As she says this, the station wagon pulls up in front of a
brown stucco apartment complex.  It looks in desperate need
of renovation, from the sagging roof to the gravel "driveway"
in front.  Helen and Jake climb out.)

HELEN: (determined) We're the same people we always were.  Our
principles haven't changed since our Middleton days, have they?

JAKE: (to himself) Wonder if old Cal'll know how *I* could swing
a car like his...?

(Cut to a later shot of Helen and Jake in what appears to be a
combined kitchen and living room.  The walls are covered in
peeling wallpaper that is an absolutely putrid shade of yellow,
while the carpet is brown shag.  Only from the Seventies.  We see
Helen pacing around with the phone to her ear, dragging a
super-long extension cord.  Jake, meanwhile, has been lounging
on the frayed avocado green couch, reading the newspaper.  Helen
now stops and lays the phone back on its hook.  She walks over
to the couch and leans over it to look at her husband.)

JAKE: (reading an article)  *Music* television??  Like *that'll*
ever catch on!

HELEN: (reflective)  Jake... (motions to him to lay the paper
aside.)  I was thinking: what if *we* had a child?

JAKE:  Hey, that'd be *neat*, honey!  But there's no way that
would happen.

HELEN:  Why not?

JAKE:  Because don't you remember what you said?  That we couldn't
have kids until *I* found myself a job and your career took off??

HELEN: Oh, well *yes*, but...

JAKE:  I'm still looking for work, and your career's nowhere
*near* where you want it to be.

(Helen gets a look of irritation on her face.)

(Cut to shot of Helen and Jake still later, lying in bed.  The
sounds around them indicate that their walls are paper-thin and
that their neighbors have strange habits.  Crashing noises can be
heard from one corner, accompanied by shouts of anger.  From above,
we hear an old stranger singing wobbly, and off-key, "I Wanna Rock
With You" by Michael Jackson.)

JAKE:  Heyyy, the Singing Man finally chose something current!
(thumbs up.)

HELEN: (trying to ignore it)  Uh-huh.  (leans closer to Jake,
touches his hand.)  Jake?  About what I said...

JAKE:  Hmm?

HELEN:  About us waiting to have children until *after* we'd
met our career goals? (Bt)  Well... goals *can* change.

JAKE:  What d' you mean?

(Beat)

HELEN: (straining to find the right words)  Well... when you see
that a greater good could be met... you, well you *realize* that
your own *personal* goals don't matter qu-

JAKE:  What are you trying to say, Helen??

HELEN:  I want to have a baby.

(Beat)

JAKE:  Ah.

HELEN: (insistent)  I think we could be *good* parents, Jake.
We'd do better at instilling our child with core principles
than Calvin and Vanessa.

JAKE:  Yeah.  I could teach our kid a thing or two about the ol'
game of baseball...

HELEN:  To stand proud, be independent-minded, not give in to
the Man.

JAKE:  And basketball, and how to shave and how to ask a girl
out...

HELEN:  To carry on the Revolution.  When you think about it,
it's almost a sin for us *not* to have a child.

JAKE: Unlike *some* fathers who never EVER taught their sons
ANY of those things!

HELEN:  So what do you say?

JAKE: (taking her by the hands)  Let's DO it!!!

(Helen leans closer, and she and Jake start making out.  The
Singing Man's chopped-up rendition of "I Wanna Rock With You"
gives way to the actual song.  The screen fades to black.)

JANE: (offscreen VO from the present)  Soooo... if I understand
correctly, your parents decided to have kids because their
*friends* were having kids?

DARIA: (offscreen VO from the present)  That's the gist of it,
yeah.

[This fanfic is the property of Kara Wild, copyright July 2000.
All rights reserved.]