Clashing Colors Everywhere
by Dennis

"Look, I really don't want to discuss this," Daria Morgendorffer said as she reached for her guitar. "Let's just play. We're getting really close with 'No Light Shines.'"

"No dice, Daria," said Jane Lane behind her drum kit. "We need to talk about this. Before we play." Daria had avoided this conversation for several weeks, and Jane was damned if she was going to let Daria slip by again.

"Yeah," Quinn Morgendorffer said, "We need to talk about this, and we need to talk about it now. We've let it slide for way too long."

"I don't see why it's so important," Daria grumbled. Jane could see the subtle changes in Daria's face that indicated extreme irritation.

"Daria," Jane said, "Like it or not, performing music live is a visual medium, too. If we're going to catch people's eyes, as well as their ears, we're going to need a look."

"We look fine now," Daria said.

"Shyeah. Whatever, Daria," Quinn snorted. "Right now we look like four teenagers playing in someone's garage. There's no harmony. Our outfits should complement each other, like our voices."

"Well, most of our voices," Jane laughed. She was no singer, and she knew it, but she did love to beat the skins.

"So we're back to outfits now, Quinn?" Daria snapped. "We going to turn the band into a little makeover party?" Ignoring Quinn's hurt look, she whirled on Jane, "And why are you going along with this? I thought you took this seriously."

"She does," Sandi said. "So does Quinn. They know that if we want to get anywhere, we have to be visually appealing." Her eyes bored into Daria's, and a cold sneer suddenly crossed her lips. "I'd like it if we could each maintain wardrobe autonomy, but some of us," the emphasis on some told Jane exactly who Sandi was talking about, "can't be trusted, so we need a unified look."

For just a second, Jane saw the irritation in Daria's face cross into raw rage, but with great effort, she mastered herself. Somewhat. "Fine. If we're not going to play, I have better things to do than stand here and be insulted for not playing dress up." She whirled and headed for the stairs. "Feel free to let yourselves out."

With a snarl, Jane whirled on Sandi, while Quinn started in shock at the open door to the stairs. "What the fuck was that about?"

Totally unperturbed, Sandi smiled. "Do you think we could work on the rhythm for the new stuff? Even without a guitar, we can get something done."

With great effort, Jane managed not to kick over the bass drum or toss her sticks at Sandi's head. "No. We're going to discuss why you thought you could get away with setting Daria off like that."

"Actually," Sandi said, voice icy, "we're not. I told Daria something she needed to hear. How she took it is, like, not my problem. Now, we can play, or Quinn and I can talk about our outfits. Or I can leave, because Daria's not the only one with better things to do than be cross-examined."

Jane could feel the tension between her and Sandi almost like a line of force connecting them, and she wasn't sure what to do. It came as a relief when Quinn said, in a small voice. "Uh, guys, I think we should just go. We're not going to get anything done."

Without a word, Sandi packed up and headed out. After a second, Quinn followed, leaving a puzzled Jane perched behind her kit. What just happened here? After a long moment, she gave up and followed her bandmates.

Jane was still thinking about their disastrous rehearsal three hours later. Sketchbook on her lap, she sat in Boston Common watching the crowds pass in the twilight. Normally, at this time on a Friday she would have been there anyway, or if not on the Common, on the Esplanade by the river or someplace else where the peace of nature contrasted with the hustle of the city, giving her artist's eye a chance to catch an unusual combination that might light the spark that filled another canvas.

This semester, both Quinn and Daria had early classes on Fridays and then worked in the evening, which made it an ideal day for early rehearsals and evenings of art. Today, though, Jane was too preoccupied with the disaster at rehearsal to even think about artwork. She knew Daria would be difficult about buying into a group look for the Girls, but she hadn't counted on her tearing into Quinn, or Sandi throwing fat on the fire. Damn Daria anyway. Why does she have to be so... Daria?

Jane knew she was being unfair. The band was originally her idea, true, but even then she knew that Daria would end up the de facto leader. While it was true that Daria was a wallflower and had to be pushed to do things, once she took them up, she had the will and the skills to make them happen. Hell, if it wasn't for Daria, Jane wouldn't be in college, much less in a band. But the same tenacity that made her able to get things done could also make her a tremendous pain in the ass when things didn't go her way. Quinn and Jane between them had usually managed to offset Daria in the beginning, but the addition of Sandi Griffin ten months ago had totally thrown the band's equilibrium out of whack.

It's funny, Jane thought. She's exactly what we need, musically. We're so in sync when we play, but so far out of it the rest of the time. Sandi had her own agenda and her own point of view, and it didn't mesh with any of the other Girls, not even Quinn. Far from falling into the old friendship, Quinn watched Sandi like a hawk, fearing she'd sow chaos just for the fun of it. And I always thought I was the nihilist.

Today was a perfect example. Between them, Quinn and Jane might have pinned Daria down about the clothes. In the six months they'd been playing at October's, they'd built up quite a following, but to take the next step, they had to get more professional, which might mean a manager, and would certainly mean a new look. Daria wasn't stupid and would see it, with a little prodding, but now that Sandi had dropped the nukes, it might take Jane and Quinn weeks to talk Daria around.

Jane sighed. Whatever she was going to do about Sandi and Daria, she wasn't going to get it done sitting in the Common. And if she wasn't going to be drawing, she'd rather be inside. With March around the corner, it was starting to warm up, but that just meant that sometimes the temperature broke freezing. She decided to head to a gallery she knew in the South End and ambled off toward the T.

Painting away, Jane didn't notice it was after midnight. She'd been in the throes of creativity for over four hours. The gallery had cleared her head, and by the time she got off the T at Crestmore Square, a painting had begun to take shape in her mind. The ten-minute walk home had given the image time to solidify so that when she walked in the door, she headed right to her easel. Without interruption, she could likely finish in another hour.

Three quick knocks on her door broke her concentration. "Dammit, Quinn! What is it?"

"Bad time?" Quinn asked, as she opened the door and poked her head around.

"What the hell are you doing home so early?" Jane did not take interruptions well.

Quinn looked confused. "Jane, it's almost one."

"Oh." Jane spied the clock radio out of the corner of her eye. '12:47' shone back at her. "Sorry, Quinn. I got on a roll and lost track of time. I didn't think you'd be home for another hour or so."

"Whatever," Quinn shrugged. "Sorry I interrupted you, but I think we should talk about the designs tonight. We've got another rehearsal tomorrow, and I wanna have something more convincing than, 'Well, Daria, I still think we should do this, so calm down and maybe Sandi will stop being such a bitch about it.'"

Jane chuckled, "No, no. Let's just go in cold. I'd love to hear that conversation play out." She let her voice fall into a monotone. "I'm not going to listen to this. I don't wanna play dress up, and that's final." Miming tossing her hair, she continued in a bad faux valley girl voice. "Like, what do you mean by that Ku-winn? Maybe you think you could be a better bassist and all around pain in the ass that me."

It was all too much for Quinn, who started laughing. Waving her hand for Jane to stop as she tried to get control of herself, Quinn finally gasped out, "Are you going to do me and you, too?"

"I don't think so," Jane sighed. "Right now, we're the sane ones." Her mouth quirked upward in a characteristic half-smile. "Strange as that may seem."

That sobered Quinn immediately. Turning away, she said, "I like the painting Jane. Even though it's, what's the word..., abstract? It pulls you in. The colors are compelling, and they balance each other. It's hard to tell right away, but the longer you look, the more sense they make."

"Thanks, Quinn," Jane said, surprised and touched. She thought about the first time Quinn saw her art, when Daria and Jodie had gone to Grove Hills, and Quinn had shown up on her doorstep. Quinn's reaction to her art had been less than supportive, and her own to Quinn had involved fantasies of a guillotine party with Quinn the guest of honor. "I guess we've all come a long way," she murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing," Jane said quickly. "I'm glad you like it. Not everyone gets the way I use color. I've had problems with it at school."

"Well, I think it's cool. Do you think we could base some designs off it?"

"Maybe posters," Jane said. "I don't think Daria's ready for something this off-the-wall."

"You're probably right," Quinn added. "And Sandi loves haute couture, but to her, avant-garde is something you get on the menu at a good French restaurant. Maybe something a little less... daring."

"Well, I can come up with some simpler schemes fairly quickly," Jane said, amused at how well she and Quinn could work together when they needed to. Heck, even as roommates. She'd had her misgivings when Daria asked her to live with Quinn, but everything had worked out well. She wasn't around often enough for them to get on each other's nerves, and Quinn didn't keep her old dating schedule, which reduced the likelihood of Jane walking in on an embarrassing situation. Jane herself preferred to go to a guy's place if she were interested in him, though such liaisons were few and far between.

"And I can coordinate them to outfits," Quinn said, enthusiasm rising. "Then we can run them by Sandi after rehearsal tomorrow, and maybe we can have something by early next week."

Jane was fairly sure Quinn was being optimistic, but she didn't want to ruin the moment. Wordlessly, she begin roughing out a color scheme, while Quinn made approving noises. They worked far into the night.

Rehearsal the next day was at 2, but Jane had told Quinn she wanted to get there early and talk to Daria. Quinn had offered to come, but Jane had declined, figuring that conversation would go better without any Fashion Fiend presence. Thus, shortly after noon, coffee in hand and much the worse for lack of sleep, she stood on Daria's doorstep. She rang the bell and took a long slug of the coffee as she gathered her thoughts.

Talking Daria around wasn't going to be easy, Jane knew, but she also knew that she had the best chance of doing it. Daria respected Jane's knowledge of visual media--mostly her art, but it was usually Jane who picked the movies for both good movie nights and bad movie nights. Fashion design was a visual medium too, although one Daria didn't respect. Just think, she thought, if only I didn't hate Fellini so much, Tom and I might be married now. But just because I prefer Bergman, he ended up kissing my best friend. C'est la vie.

After a moment, the doors opened, showing Daria. "Fancy seeing you here," she said. "Still not a morning person, I see."

"Lay off, Daria," Jane glared. "I was up late last night."

Daria's eyebrow arched behind her glasses. "Find another stray?"

"Painting and talking to Quinn."

"Oh." Daria turned, and Jane followed her upstairs into the apartment. Taking another swig of her coffee, she grimaced. "Hey," she asked. "You got any coffee on?"

Daria shrugged as she walked through the door. "No, but I can have it ready in five minutes."

"Good," Jane said, as she took a seat on the couch. "Your coffee's drinkable." I gotta find a better coffee place, she thought, as Daria busied herself in the kitchen.

A few minutes later, she returned with two mugs in hand. "I know you like it black," she said, as she handed a mug to Jane and sat down. The aroma hitting Jane's nose was a wind from heaven. Divine wind, she thought, as she grabbed the cup and took a sip. Well, this could end up a kamikaze mission.

Jane was grateful that Daria allowed her a few minutes to commune with the coffee, enough time to drain the cup and help herself to another one, before breaking the silence. "So, what brings you here? Rehearsal's not until two."

"Can't a girl come over to spend some time with her primera amiga?" Jane asked.

"She can," Daria replied, "but not when it requires her to be up and moving before noon."

"You know me too well."

"Yes, I do. And given your more-than-semiconscious state and Quinn's absence, I'd say you're here to beard the Misery Chick in her den about matters sartorial."

"This is only my third cup of coffee, Daria," Jane smirked. "Save the verbal gymnastics for the next time you tell off Sandi."

Daria gave Jane a black look. "You're here to talk about the band's look."

Jane nodded and sipped her coffee.

"Well, don't expect me to make it easy on you," Daria said.

"Of course not," Jane said, and drank some more coffee. She finished the cup and got herself another, letting Daria stew all the while. It wasn't until Jane was halfway through that cup before Daria finally burst out. "What I don't get is why you're involved in this. I can see Quinn and Sandi wanting to dress us up, but you're above all that nonsense."

Gotcha, Jane thought. "It's not nonsense. It's about drawing people's eyes. We present a unified concept in a visually exciting manner to develop associations and help people remember us."

"Isn't that what the music is for?" Daria's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"You're so cute when you're naive, Daria," Jane laughed, knowing it would annoy Daria, but also push her off balance. "Look, our music is good, and it's going to get better, right?"

Daria just glared.

"But that's true of dozens of bands in the Boston area alone. If all we want to do is stay in Boston, then we can just rely on the music. We might even make a living, but I'll bet we have to get day jobs and just play nights and weekends. If we want to make things work, we have to offer something in addition to the music."

"Like our bodies?" Daria sneered.

"Like strong visual imagery, Daria." Jane sighed. "Look, this isn't about letting Quinn and Sandi put us in clothes they think are fashionable, or about slutting ourselves up. It's about finding a way to draw attention in a crowded field, so that more people will want to hear us."

"Look, Jane," Daria said after a moment, "I'm not trying to be a jerk about it, but I just don't get it. They're not there to see us; they're there to hear us. I mean, if we were actresses, maybe, but this all sounds so stupid."

Jane sighed heavily. For someone so intelligent, Daria could be incredibly thickheaded sometimes. "It doesn't have to be stupid. It can be as smart as you want it to be. There's all sorts of visual symbolism that can be applied, as subtly or as overtly as you want. Our images can represent the four seasons or the four elements. Or they can just be four outfits that fit well together. But we're not going to get anywhere without an image. No one has."

Daria looked thoughtful for a minute, and then shook her head. "Why don't you and Quinn talk to Sandi about this? It's much more her speed than mine."

"What makes you think we haven't?" Jane asked. She knew the answer, but decided to let Daria off the defensive.

"If you had, you wouldn't be here," Daria said. "No point in getting up early when Sandi would just insist on having the same conversation again with all four of us there."

Jane let Daria enjoy her moment of being right, then responded. "We will talk to Sandi. We're going to want her input." At Daria's raised eyebrow, Jane added, "And yours. All four of us should be in on this."

Daria looked troubled. "Why? You know I have no aptitude for this. I like green; I wear green. That's about the depth of my fashion experience."

"It's not fashion, Daria. It's visual design," Jane sighed again.

"I'm not a visual person," Daria said.

"You don't have to be. Trust me."

Daria gave Jane a long look. Jane waited, knowing either a concession or an angry outburst was coming. "I do trust you," Daria finally said. Concession. Good. That'll make things easier.

"Look," Daria continued, "talk to Quinn and Sandi, and I'll do what you want. Just don't expect me to help. It's not my thing." With a Mona Lisa smile, she added, "And make sure I'm not naked up there."

Well, it's a start. Jane settled in to wait for the others to show up. "Is there any more coffee?" At Daria's black look, she just laughed.

Quinn and Sandi arrived together, and the four Girls headed downstairs to rehearse. The guitar, bass, and drums set-up had be joined by a Hammond keyboard, Quinn's addition. Jane had been surprised by Quinn's initiative. She knew Quinn had hated playing bass and singing, but Quinn was slowly but gamely mastering the keyboard, allowing the Girls to try some more complex arrangements.

One of these was "No Light Shines," a minor key song with a grinding, dirge-like guitar. When the band played it for the first time, five months ago, it had a slow, plodding feel, like a cut-rate Nirvana song (something Mystik Spiral might play). Daria had confided her disappointment to Jane after the rehearsal.

"They're some of my best lyrics, but some of my worst music," Daria had sighed.

Jane had tried to cheer her friend, but to no avail. "We're never going to be able to play it in front of people," was Daria's last word on the subject.

The addition of a keyboard had resurrected the song. In the new arrangement, the keyboard had freed both guitar and drums to be more expressive. Quinn played simple repetitive chords as a rhythm line in tandem with Sandi's bass, allowing Daria's guitar to slash through the song rather than carry it. Jane, in turn, could concentrate on picking spots for fills to drive the song, rather than laying down a simple 4/4 beat.

They played "No Light Shines" straight through, and then walked through it again more slowly, stopping every so often to fix problems, like where the instruments were out of balance or where the transition from verse to chorus was flat. Although Daria wrote the songs, the arrangement process was often very democratic. One of them would raise an arm, and everyone would stop playing to listen to the complaint and, if necessary, talk about how to address it. It was a simple system, but very rarely had any breakdown. Musically, the Girls were usually on the same page--or at least in the same book.

After working their way through the song, they played it once more straight though. Jane noted that during the verses, Quinn had very little trouble staying in time on the keyboards as she sang. Even now, some slight changes crept in. Daria took a stronger solo, while Quinn keyboards dropped out, allowing more focus on the guitar. At the end, they were all smiling, even Sandi.

"Well, I think we're in good shape with that one," Daria said after catching her breath.

Jane smiled from behind the kit. "Yeah. That one's going to be fun to play. The bass and keyboards do all the work, so I have room to have fun." Drumming was always a blast, but she loved when she got to play around the beat, instead of on it. It gave her room to improvise, freeing her artistic side.

Sandi gave Jane a thin smile, "Glad I could help, Jane." Turning to Daria, she added, "It does sound good, though. I really like the stronger solo. The guitar isn't, like, disappearing anymore."

"Thanks, Sandi," Daria said, "but don't forget it was Quinn's idea to not play the keyboards over the solo. I think that helped a lot."

Quinn, still getting a drink for her throat, only smiled and nodded.

After a short break, they did a few covers and then ran through some of the other originals: "Charmed Circle," "Wherever You Can Find It," "Hard World," "Empty Heart," and a raucous instrumental with no name that Daria insisted on calling "Fuck Off and Die." To Jane's ear, their playing was crisp and professional sounding. Now all we need is a look to match the sound.

After they finished, Jane grabbed a towel from her perch on the drum kit to wipe away the sweat, and waited for the rest of the band. She wanted Daria to stay for the conversation, but she'd settle for getting Sandi on board. And sure enough, Quinn was guiding Sandi back to the rehearsal space. Jane turned to look for Daria, but she'd slipped out.

"Where's Daria?" Quinn asked, a little nervously.

"Upstairs," Jane said. "I think she ducked out."

"So she still doesn't want to talk about our look?" Sandi's voice held a measure of contempt.

Contempt is definitely something she's mastered, Jane thought, before shrugging. "She says she'll wear what we tell her as long as she doesn't have to participate. I'd like to get her more involved in the process--"

"So she won't shoot us down as soon as we have something finished," Quinn muttered. Sandi gave a thin smile.

Jane ignored them. "But for now I think we can move ahead. We can work out how to sell her on it later."

Sandi nodded. "Okay. So Quinn and I can, like, get to work on this stuff, and let you know what we come up with."

Jane drew a sharp breath, but before she could speak, Quinn said, in the diffident voice she'd perfected over long years of dealing with Sandi, "Actually, Jane's already designed a color palate for us to work from, and she and I have done some preliminary sketches. Of course, we didn't want to go further without your input, Sandi, so we'd like you to take a look and tell us what you think."

Jane didn't think she'd ever seen an expression before like the one on Sandi's face, combining shock, irritation, confusion, and maybe a little disappointment. And to think, I've been after Daria to explain 'nonplussed' to me for years. I think I've just seen it. "How does that sound, Sandi?" she asked.

"Sure. Whatever." Sandi's voice was flat.

Jane had reduced the colors from her painting to a circular design almost like a pinwheel. At each of the four cardinal points of the compass was a color--red at north, pink at south, green at east, blue at west--and each color dissolved into a swirl of shades and hues, conflicting and contrasting, but never quite clashing. It was an eye-catching design, if she did say so herself.

"Like, what's this supposed to be?" Sandi snapped.

Jane bristled at Sandi's tone, but tried not to let it show. "It's just what Quinn said, Sandi: a color palate. We can use the shades for whatever we want--outfits, posters, lighting--as long as we use shades that don't clash."

Sandi waved an arm dismissively. "They all clash."

"No," Jane said, biting off each word. "They don't. They draw the eye. Which is what they're supposed to do."

"It's avant-garde," Quinn supplied, in her perkiest voice.

"It's ugly," Sandi said. "I'm not surrendering wardrobe autonomy to," she tossed her head and poured on the sneer, "an amateur."

Blood suffused Jane's normally pale face and a red haze fell across her eyes. "I am not," she snarled, "a fucking amateur." At that moment she wanted nothing more than to wipe that expression off Sandi's face, preferably with the edge of an X-acto knife. It looked like she'd have to settle for fists, though.

As Sandi backed away, Jane lunged, but was impeded by pressure on her arm. She whirled and heard, as if from a great distance, Quinn's urgent, "Oh shit! Sandi, you'd better go." Fist ready to strike, Jane saw that Quinn, not Sandi, was now her target, and with an intense effort got herself under control. "Bad move, Quinn," she grated as she lowered her hand. "I nearly knocked you on your ass."

"I know," Quinn whispered, eyes wide. "But I couldn't let you hit Sandi."

"Sticking up for your friend?" Jane asked, dripping bitterness.

Quinn nodded, hurt in her eyes. "Sandi probably wanted you to hit her. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction."

The residual anger drained from Jane, replaced by shock. Quinn had never said anything like that before. "I'm your friend?"

"Duh, Jane," Quinn sounded almost disgusted. "Right now, I'd say you're my closest friend."

"What about Sandi?" Jane was deeply confused. Quinn was a means to an end and a sometimes ally. She wasn't someone Jane willingly spent time with, much less wanted as a friend. Yeah, that's why you live together and talk to her more than you talk to Daria. That's why she's the one who understands your artwork. She almost missed Quinn's response.

"In case you missed the last eight hundred times I told you, I don't trust Sandi."

"And Daria?"

Quinn gave a sad little smile. "Sister's not the same as friend, Jane."

Her own words thrown back in her face made Jane smile. "Touché, Quinn." She started to laugh, dispelling the rest of the tension. "Damn perceptive Morgendorffers. Come on, friend. I see Sandi took a minute to grab her bass. Let's see if she got while the getting was good. If not, I think I can look at her without punching her face in."

Quinn didn't look reassured, but she smiled at Jane and led the way up the stairs anyway.

They found not Sandi, but Daria in the living room, calmly sitting and enjoying a soda. "Gotta work tonight, but you're welcome to grab a beer if you want." She gestured toward the fridge. "So things didn't go well." It wasn't a question.

"How'd you guess?" Jane found Daria's flippancy annoying.

"Sandi stomping out was my first clue."

"Well," Jane snapped, "maybe if you hadn't ducked out like a hobo dodging a bar bill, we could have kept her there."

She could see real irritation creeping into Daria's face. "I told you that's not my thing. I had nothing to add, so I had no reason to stick around."

Before Jane could respond, Quinn raised a hand. "Daria, what did Sandi look like when she left? Was she just mad?"

A puzzled frown crossed Daria's face. "I don't know. Why do you ask?"

"Just try to remember. Trust me."

Silence spread as Daria thought. Jane, despite her annoyance, found herself very interested. "Well, she was definitely angry," Daria began. "It's easy to tell when Sandi's angry," she added.

Jane smiled slightly as Quinn motioned for Daria to continue.

"I'd say she was a little frightened; I've seen that look on her face before." She gave Jane a Mona Lisa smile. "Remember when Quinn dressed up as me?"

Jane grinned at Quinn's nettled look. "Yeah. And Sandi tried to talk to you, and couldn't say a word."

Daria paused again, looking thoughtful. "I think that's about it, Quinn," she finally started, before stopping again, surprise lighting her features. "Now that you mention it, underneath the fear and anger, she looked almost... satisfied, like she'd just put down Stacy or managed to put one over on you."

"I knew it!" Quinn said, jumping up. "I thought there was something off about that conversation."

"Wait a second!" Shock broke through Jane's mind like a wave. "Are you telling me that was a put-on? That Sandi did that on purpose?!" Her voice rose in anger on the last word.

"Yes," Quinn said triumphantly, before confusion painted her doll face. "Well, sort of."

Daria gave her sister a sardonic look. "Care to give us some idea what you mean, Quinn?"

Uh-oh, Jane thought. Here comes the verbal flood. She wasn't disappointed.

"Well, it's not that she did it on purpose. I think she really was mad, like the time we got stuck in the Payday, and she was mad at me for bringing us there and at Stacy for talking about her pants, but even when she's mad, she's still pretty careful about what she says, so she probably decided that since she was so mad, she may as well see how mad she could get you, Jane, and it worked, and now she knows she can push you, and she'll probably do it again, because that's what Sandi does." Quinn finally wound down.

"So let me get this straight," Jane said. "Sandi's messing with me to see how I react." At Quinn's nod, Jane added, "Why?"

"That's what she does," Jane," Quinn said, sadly. "She plays with people like they're toys. And she breaks a lot of toys."

"No. I mean, why me?" Jane sounded puzzled and annoyed. "Why not you or Daria?"

"Uh, Jane," Daria said. "I think she already had a go or two at me. Remember 'Roadrunner?' And what she said to me earlier this week?"

Quinn nodded, "And she's had years to mess with me. I guess it's your turn now."

"Lucky me," Jane twirled a finger in the air in a mocking gesture. "So what do I do about it?"

"Don't you mean what do we do about it?" Daria asked, voice sardonic. "We're supposed to be a band, aren't we?"

Jane shot her friend a look of mixed gratitude and irritation. "If we're supposed to be a band, why weren't you downstairs before?"

For a moment, it looked to Jane like Daria was preparing a crushing retort, but after a moment and a deep breath, she calmly said, "Point taken, Jane. So what do we do about Sandi?"

The silence that fell grew and stretched. Jane could imagine it spreading, filling the entire room. As she met Daria's eyes, she felt, rather than saw, Quinn shift uncomfortably. Daria met her gaze calmly, the lenses of her glasses like twin mirrors, unreadable. She seemed to be waiting, as if something needed saying, but Daria didn't want to be the one to say it.

It was Quinn, finally, that leaped into the breach. "You mean, should we kick her out?"

Jane whirled at the words, to see a deadly serious, if somewhat scared, expression on Quinn's doll face. Turning back to Daria, she read the confirmation. That was exactly what they were talking about. Despite wanting to kill Sandi less than fifteen minutes ago, Jane was uncomfortable with the sudden turn. "Don't you think this is a little...," she trailed off.

Expressionless, Daria said, "This is what Sandi is like, Jane. Quinn tried to warn us, and we went ahead anyway. Now we have to decide if we can live with it."

Quinn nodded. "I can take bass again until we find another. I know I'm no good, but it won't take as long as the first time. We've got a reputation now."

"One slip, and you're seriously considering kicking her out?" Jane's voice was painted with shock. "Have I slipped through the rabbit hole? Because this all seems as mad as any hatter."

"You asked what we could do about her, Jane," Daria voice bored remorselessly. "This is what we can do."

"She's not going to change, Jane," Quinn added, with her own chill. "Sandi doesn't do change."

Looking between the Morgendorffer sisters, Jane felt trapped, as if between dangerous spirits. A sudden image of Daria as many-headed Scylla and Quinn as once-beautiful Charybdis rose in Jane's mind, but she squashed it. Throwing her arms in the air, she half-screamed, "Doesn't the music mean anything?"

"Of course it does," Daria said, and dwindled until she was once again Daria, with her flat expression and her wise eyes hiding behind the glasses. "But you've said it yourself. She's so in turn with us musically, and so out of tune with us in every other way."

Quinn, once again merely the pretty princess with her hidden depths, nodded. "If the music is worth the conflict, we'll keep her."

"But this time, you'll have to decide, Jane," Daria added. "Quinn and I both think you're the one who'll bear the brunt."

For Jane, it wasn't even a question. She had no love for Sandi, but she was more than a little unnerved at the speed with which Daria and Quinn had turned as one on her. Besides that, as a drummer, Jane had never felt so in tune with another bassist as she did with Sandi. Musically, they could do anything. As far as the other stuff, they would manage. "Of course it is," she said with more confidence than she felt. "Like her or not, Sandi is the perfect bassist for the group."

"Okay then," Daria said, as Quinn let out a breath, whether in relief or irritation, Jane couldn't tell. "Now all we have to do is make sure Sandi still wants to be in the band."

Jane chuckled weakly, relief coursing through her after that strange confrontation. "Yeah. Sandi's exit was pretty dramatic. You may have to pick up bass anyway, Quinn."

"I doubt it," Quinn said. "You'll know when Sandi's ready to leave."

Jane and Daria gave Quinn matching quizzical looks.

"When Sandi's ready to leave, there won't be anything left." With an enigmatic smile worthy of Daria, Quinn let herself out.

Confusion settled over them like a blanket. For a moment, neither moved. Jane looked at Daria. Daria looked at Jane. Simultaneously, they shrugged and smiled. That's life, Jane thought. "We've got time for Sick, Sad World before you have to go to work, right?"

"Sure," Daria said, grabbing the remote. The familiar logo popped into view as the announcer declaimed, with his usual urgency, "Fine dining for massive mammals! But will they need a crate of wine with that? Hungry, hungry hippos, next on Sick, Sad World!"

It was Tuesday evening, and still no one had heard from Sandi. As usual, they'd gathered at Daria's to load the van, wondering if they still had a bassist. Quinn had called Sandi's cell twice, but gotten voicemail both times, so they simply started without her and acted as if she would show up.

As 7 o'clock, their usual departure time, drew near, Jane began to get nervous. With most of the loading done, she took to scanning the streets for the familiar trim, blue-clad figure. Be quite the joke if after what I went through to keep her in the band, she dropped out on her own. Daria'd love the irony. And Quinn..., I think Quinn would just love getting rid of Sandi.

Turning, she noticed Quinn emerging from the basement stairs carrying an unfamiliar case. She walked over to see what Quinn was carrying.

"Well," Quinn looked down at what was clearly a bass guitar, her expresion faintly apologetic. "I figured, you know, just in case...."

"Just in case what?" a familiar deep voice shot.

"Sandi!" In her shock, Quinn dropped the case she was carrying.

The relief that flooded Jane immediately gave way to misgivings. Sandi stood in the driveway, bass case in hand, surveying the scene with her usual disdain. She's got to know we weren't sure she would show. How's she going to react?

It was Daria who broke the silence with her usual aplomb. "Nice of you to join us, Sandi. Find a way to get out of the loading?"

A look of irritation crossed Sandi's face, and she raised a hand as if to wave it away. "I've been running errands, and I got held up."

Daria quirked an eyebrow. "Since Saturday?"

"Look, I'm sorry I was late, but I've, like, been busy." She gave a heavy sigh. "But I'm here and I'm ready to play."

"That's all I wanted to hear," Daria gave a Mona Lisa smile. "Put your stuff in the van, and we'll get going."

As they got in behind Daria and Sandi, Jane exchanged a quizzical look with Quinn. She found the conversation between Daria and Sandi strange, and she was sure Quinn did too, especially Sandi's heavy sigh. Sandi's not one for sighs or introspection. I wonder what's going on in her head.

It was Daria's turn to drive, so Jane settled into the driver-side rear set. At Jane's suggestion, and to her amusement, they'd gone the Mystik Spiral route with the van. It was black and large, and ate gas, and Quinn and Sandi were both mortified to have to drive it. They had opted for better quality than Max Tyler, though. The van had actual seats, enough for the whole band, and a roadie or two if they ever needed them. The locks even worked, and they'd chose not to go with an Early Trash and Rotting Food motif, with the result that the van also smelled much better than the Tank.

Actually, Jane had offered to decorate the van, but she'd been turned down, with Daria delivering the coup de grace in her most withering style, "It's not that you might decide to emulate Pollack's style, it's that you might go for the Electric Mayhem's." As Muppet Movie references were widely held by all right-thinking people to be one of the ultimate argument enders, Jane had never raised the subject again.

Daria got them to Jefferson Square with a minimum of difficulty. The unloading and set up for the show were second nature, and the butterflies had almost died in Jane's stomach. The details around a gig that had so intimidated them six months ago were now routine, mundane even, but not the show itself. That was still magical.

They kicked off with the thrashing drum intro of "Charmed Circle." Jane loved when the opening song started with the drums alone. It gave her an incredible sense of power, like this musical monster awoke at her command. The owner, Mike Tierney, had been letting them mix in a few originals over the last few weeks with the covers the crowd had come to hear, and the fact that it was their music that she heralded with the drums simply added to Jane's feelings of power.

Smooth segues into "Rock and Roll Machine" and a sped up "Blister in the Sun" kept the crowd moving. There were at least twice as many people in the crowd as there had been the first night they played, a tribute to the Girls' growing popularity. Thrashing away, Jane felt the connection between the band and the crowd, the way the music fed the crowd's energy and the crowd's energy pushed the music. Daria called it a feedback loop. Jane didn't bother to name it, she just loved it.

In a surprising place of honor at the beginning of the second set was the new "No Light Shines." Quinn slid behind the keyboards for the third time that night, and Sandi's steady bass took center stage. Jane had been worried that the song wasn't ready yet, and she was right. Though she flailed away gamely, the song had a rough, unfinished feel that contrasted poorly with the precision of their more familiar material. The crowd's energy waned until the band kicked into "Helter Skelter," which got everyone revved up again. Ah, well, Jane thought, as her sticks flashed. Not an auspicious debut, but we'll get it worked out.

Surging adrenaline carried Jane from song to song as they rolled through more covers in the second set, before finishing up with "Wherever You Can Find It" and the now-traditional "Roadrunner." Jane still felt a thrill when they reached the end of the song and her name was called. She acknowledged the crowd with a nod as she kept pounding, playing around the beat rather than on it as Daria shouted, "What do you say, girls?" and Quinn and Sandi responded with calls of "RADIO ON!" until Jane wound up the song, and the show, with a quick roll.

Once again, they left the stage to cheers. Meeting them on the stairs, Mike congratulated them on another successful show, and handed Daria a wad of bills. Although he'd doubled their pay in line with he size of the crowds, two hundred bucks split between four of them didn't go a long way.

As they headed to the basement for a breather before breaking down, Sandi offered Jane the opening she needed. "Like, when are going to start making real money doing this?"

Jane couldn't believe her good fortune when it was Daria who responded. "When we start getting gigs at bigger clubs, so we can get them bidding against each other."

Now I've got them both. "Which we're not going to get until we put together some posters and promotional stuff. Which we can't do until we decide on a look and design to pull everything together."

"We talked about this, Jane." There's that look again. Nonplussed. Except this time it's Daria. "Do what you think is best. I trust you."

"Not good enough." This from Quinn. "This stuff is important, and we all need to be on the same page."

Jane nodded. "We're going to be using this stuff, or working from it, for years. We need to get it right, now."

Hands on hips, Sandi raked Quinn and Jane with a glare. "And how do you expect to get it right without input from your most fashionable members."

With great difficulty, Jane mastered her rising anger. For this, I kept her from getting kicked out? "We're not going for fashionable, Sandi. We're going for eye-catching."

"And we asked for your input," Quinn added, "but you wouldn't give it to us."

"Fine," said Daria. "But this isn't the time or the place."

"When is?" Quinn shot back.

"Tomorrow."

"Before practice," Jane added, enjoying the cornered look on Daria's face.

"Before practice," Daria conceded, after another moment.

Both Jane and Quinn gave Sandi a long, level look. After a moment, she caved, though in typical Sandi fashion, she threw a cat among the pigeons, muttering, "Well, if Daria will do it, so will I." Both Morgendorffers shot her a look. "Before practice." she added, unperturbed.

Just then, feet sounded the at the top of the stairs. "We may not get the chance," Jane muttered, turning her attention away from Sandi to the clatter of what could only be Mike Tierney's descent. Sure enough, the thickset owner of October's burst into the small room.

"Good show," he said, a little out of breath from the run down the stairs. "Look," he added after a moment. "I just lost my Saturday night regulars. If you want it, the job's yours."

Identical expressions of shock crossed the faces of all four Girls. As Jane recovered, her eyes shifted to Quinn, who'd blurted out their acceptance of Tierney's original offer to play here before the group had a chance to consider it. This time, Quinn met Jane's eyes resolutely before turning to Tierney, even as Daria and Sandi still stared. "We'd like a few minutes to talk about it."

"Sure thing," the big man said. "Oh, and if you've got any posters or anything, I'd like to start putting them up now. After all, you'll need to draw much bigger crowds." With that, he disappeared up the stairs.

The four looked at each other again. It was Daria, Jane noted, who finally broke the silence. "It's a prime slot, but it's still not that big a place. Do we take it or wait for something better?" She might let Quinn play the public face, but when it comes to band business, she always takes the lead.

Surprisingly, Quinn and Sandi were both silent, Sandi looking thoughtful and Quinn looking back and forth between her sister and her roommate. Jane got the feeling Quinn and Sandi were both waiting for her--to agree with Daria or stand up to her, she wasn't sure. Taking a deep breath, she jumped in. "I say we go for it. If we take the Saturday slot here, we can get a weeknight at a bigger place and work our way up there."

Quinn nodded slowly. "Some of the places over in Middletown Square have space for a thousand people."

"If the money's right," Sandi finally spoke up. "What Jane says makes sense, but I'm not doing Saturday nights for, like, fifty a gig minus gas money."

"We haven't hit the big time yet, but I think we can talk him up to $500 a gig. I've seen him get four hundred people in this place on a Saturday night." Daria gave her a Mona Lisa smile. "That's at least a hundred bucks a person, after gas."

"Fine," Sandi nodded. "But where are we going to get posters?"

My lucky day. Jane grinned a manic grin. "In the van, Sandi."

Sandi whirled, another shocked expression on her face, a split second ahead of Daria. Only Quinn was unperturbed, but then Quinn had known what Jane was up to.

"It's not like I was going to stop working on this stuff. I did some poster designs at home and printed up a dozen or so at the school's print shop." The twin expressions of shock on Daria and Sandi's faces just made Jane's grin wider. "That is the point of having an art school student in the band, right?"

"Laugh it up, Lane," Daria finally said. "But I'll have my revenge when you least expect it. Now let see those posters."

"Right away, your Highness." She gave Daria a mocking bow before meeting Quinn's eyes, which were laughing though her face was expressionless. "Five to one," Jane said aloud as she ran up the stairs and turned right for the back door and the parking lot instead of left for the stage, "Daria grills Quinn while I'm gone for not telling her about the posters. Sandi might even help."

Quickly, she popped open the van's back door, grabbed her bag, and extracted the rolled up posters. She headed back to the bar, and down the stairs in time for what sounded like one last, "You could have told us." Right, as usual, she thought as she entered.

"Well?" Daria and Sandi chorused, before giving each other strange looks. Jane gave another mocking bow and unrolled the posters.

They were clearly based off the same color palate from Jane's original designs. Although various shades of purple seemed to be most common in the wash of color, giving an almost psychedelic feel, no one shade or color dominated. The font in which the band's name was printed didn't look particularly appropriate for psychedelia--the letters were much too sharp, for one thing--but neither did they sink unnoticed into the design. The whole thing was unconventional, hard to classify, and strangely arresting.

Before anyone could say a word, Mike Tierney clattered into the room. He considered the posters for a long moment. "I like 'em," he said, nodding. "They'll draw the eye," he added before looking at Quinn with an expression fairly screaming, "Well?"

This time Quinn looked to Daria. "Five hundred a night," the elder Morgendorffer said baldly, "against ten percent of the door take."

Watching Tierney, Jane had a feeling he was intimidated by the hard faced woman in front of him. Hell, she intimidated Jane sometimes too. Sandi, with her airs, was a poser. Daria was the real thing. Tierney seemed to think so too. At least he didn't try any posturing. "Three hundred against five percent."

"Five hundred, no door," Daria said.

"Deal." the big man sounded almost relieved. "You start two weeks from Saturday. You can play the Tuesday, too, or not. Just let me know next week if you don't want it." With that he disappeared up the stairs.

Jane ignored Quinn and Sandi, laughing and hugging in celebration of their new status, and watched Daria shift uncomfortably. She knew she didn't have to say anything, so she didn't. "Fine," Daria broke down. "Tomorrow. Before practice." The three words were admission, complement, apology, surrender, and thank you rolled into one.

"That's our Daria," Jane said and smiled, no longer mocking.

In the end, they played the Tuesday. As Daria said, "We can always use the practice." And that's what they did. The entire first set was their own stuff, the dozen or so songs they'd worked up, including "Fuck Off and Die," as the raucous set closer. As a reward for those who stayed through the whole first set, and the six months before, the second set was the most popular covers, closing with "Roadrunner" again. But everyone, especially the Girls, knew that Saturday was the big show.

They'd pulled together the new look without too much difficulty. Once Sandi had understood what Quinn and Jane were going for, she'd been a big help, softening the colors and making the outfits more accessible, while still unusual and attractive.

Not that the sailing was totally smooth. Daria had shocked the others by rejecting a pants and long coat ensemble as, "Too conservative." With some asperity, she'd added, "For fuck's sake, Jane, I won't even be able to play in that." Eventually, they'd gotten everything squared away, and managed to scrounge the actual clothes.

Even Sandi agreed they couldn't get brand names. She'd been able to get most of the stuff they had to buy new at tag sales and outlets, while Jane tracked down other things at thrift shops and other secondhand stores. Quinn, a little miffed at being left out of the shopping, worked with Daria on arrangements for "No Light Shines" and some of the other new songs.

And now, here they were on Saturday night. From behind the drum kit, Jane estimated there were at least three hundred people in the crowd in front of them, many who'd never heard GTS before. It was a critical gig for them; if they couldn't hook people's interest, Saturdays would be gone, and they'd be right back where they started or worse.

Looking at her bandmates, she knew they'd managed the visual part. All the outfits were deceptively simple, a few shades and tones that worked well with each other.

An off-the-shoulder pink shirt covered most of Quinn's white tank top. It was a definite nod to the '80s, but instead of hot pants and high hair, Quinn's long locks were mostly unstyled, relying on natural bounce, and her pants, while flattering, had an elegant cut that prevented the whole look from collapsing into trashy ZZ Top video chickness.

Elegance was also Sandi's watchword. One-piece dresses weren't usually considered good stagewear, but Sandi had argued, rightly, that she was in the John Entwistle style of bassist--she didn't really move at all, preferring to let the action (and the music) swirl around her. Thus, when Sandi came back from one of her expeditions with several short, stylish dress that blended shades of blue in interesting ways, Jane knew that she would not be shifted. And Jane wouldn't have wanted to--after all, one doesn't get to be President of the Fashion Club without knowing how to dress.

Daria, of course, refused to surrender her glasses--though she had opted for more stylish frames since the band began--so they built her look out from there. Daria insisted she didn't mind the high collar on the brown mock turtleneck she wore, as long as the fabric was light, which it was. Over that she wore a blouse open at the neck, the soft green contrasting both with the brown and her forest green skirt. Although the skirt was below knee length, it hugged her hips quite nicely, keeping her look from skidding into dowdiness.

Jane herself had opted for what looked like a simple black leotard (shades of the 80s again) as the base for her outfit. It was only with a closer look, or the help of stage lights, that the subtle pattern of reds and browns became noticeable. The pattern played very nicely off the short red skirt and open top she wore.

Quinn had bought into the contrast and Sandi the subtlety (and the wardrobe autonomy she'd wangled for herself), while Daria loved the symbolism. The four elements--Quinn as Air, Daria as Earth, Jane as Fire, and Sandi as Water--were there, but so were Quinn the tease, Jane the wild child, Sandi the lady, and Daria the woman. And underneath it all, they were who they were. Mercurial Sandi in blues that seemed to shift and blend in fighting for dominance, breezy Quinn in her bright colors, solid Daria not drawing attention, but finding it nonetheless. And Jane herself, deceptively calm at times, but a whirlwind of subtle changes when moving. They each had their role, Jane knew, and hers was to bring the fire, the thunder that gave the band its energy.

And now it was time. Their time. When Daria raised her arm, Jane kicked the bass drums to open "Blitzkrieg Bop" and felt, along with the rush of power, a sudden surge of rightness. They had the look and they had the sounds. And soon, they'd have this audience eating out of their hands.

Author's Note: Finally, fic number three in the GTS series. The title is adapted from "She's a Rainbow" by the Rolling Stones. Many thanks to my beta-readers, Brother Grimace and Richard Lobinske.

Disclaimer: Daria and all characters are copyright MTV 1997-2002. I own nothing and am merely along for the ride.