Sometimes, very early in the morning, Jane Lane went running up by the abandoned quarry, where there was a spectacular view of Lawndale from one side of the path and a spectacular view of gravel and stagnant water on the other - both equally inspiring to someone who was always looking for real-world analogues to unpleasant emotions.  It wasn’t just the view that brought her, but the fact that she had never seen another person there; which was why she was so surprised that morning.  Who’s that?  Someone - a girl, to judge from the clothing - was sitting against a tree and evidently looking out over the quarry.  Jane crept up closer.  The girl was wearing a thin pastel scarf tied babushka-style around her head, a thick jacket, and a long skirt; she had drawn her legs up and clasped her hands in front of her knees.  There was something vaguely familiar about her.  Hm - maybe it was Andrea?  Not wearing those colors.

Jane got close enough to see that the girl was wearing headphones that were hooked up to a portable CD player.  There was a CD case lying next to it; the cover looked like a photograph of a woman holding a green apple in front of her right eye.  It didn’t look like the boy-band schlock that most teenage girls in Lawndale were always listening to.  The mystery was growing more intriguing by the second.  Jane got up as close as she dared, but she still couldn’t make out the title on the CD.

The girl took off her headphones, and picked up a thermal mug. Well, thought Jane, it’s now or never.  She crunched down loudly on the path and said “Oh!  Excuse me!  I didn’t know there was anyone else up here!”  The girl wheeled around.  It was Sandi Griffin.

“I’m sorry,” said Jane.  “Are you okay?”

“I - guess - so,” said Sandi.  “I mean, I guess I’m not going to have a coronary.”  She shook her head.  “I - I’m glad it was you.”

“Sorry?”

“Mm - I mean you don’t think it’s weird that I’m up here by myself, do you?”

“I’m not following you.”

Sandi paused for a moment, trying to think of the best way to say what she was thinking.  “I mean, you don’t think it’s weird that somebody would come up here to be alone, right?”

“Gotcha.  No, I don’t think it’s weird.”

Sandi nodded.  “Some people would think it was very weird.”

“I guess they would.”  For a moment each of them looked away from the other.  “I don’t really need to stick around here,” said Jane finally.  “I’ll let you get back to…what you were doing.”  She turned and started to walk away.

“I’m…um…Ms. Lane?” said Sandi.

Jane turned. “You don’t need to worry, I’ll never tell a soul.”

“Mm…that wasn’t - I wasn’t worried about that.  I was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind if we talked for a minute.”

“You want to talk with me.”  Jane stared at her.  Sandi nodded.

“About clothes?” said Jane.  “No.”  “About hair?”  “No.”  “Okay, I’ll take a wild guess - eye liner?”

Sandi shook her head.  “Not about anything like that.  I was just wondering if we could just like talk - mm - kind of the way that you and your friend talk.  You know, Quinn’s sister.”

“You want me to talk with you the way I talk with Daria.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jane nodded slowly and looked around.  “There’s someone filming this, isn’t there.  Any minute now, the rest of you are going to jump out and try to give me a makeover and turn me into the next Britney Spears or something.  Over your dead bodies!”  Jane assumed a pugilistic stance; Sandi put a hand up to her mouth and laughed slightly.  “What?” said Jane.  “I was just trying to picture you…” said Sandi, laughing  a little harder, “in a Britney Spears outfit.  That’s really funny.”

Jane scrutinized her.  “So…were you serious?  About wanting to talk with me?”  Sandi stopped laughing and nodded.

“Why?” said Jane.

“Well...I’ve been ruminating over a lot of things lately and I thought maybe it would help if I could talk to someone who’s...um...not shallow.”  Sandi looked away.  “I guess it was a silly idea.  I mean, I don’t know what we would have to talk about.  I just wondered…I mean, you really like Daria, right?”

“Well, sure.”

“But it’s like a really meaningful relationship.  I mean, she did some really terrible things to you and you’re still friends with her.  Things I’d never be able to forgive anybody if they did it to me.  So I wondered what your secret was.”

“I don’t think there’s any secret to it.  We’re just friends.  We work things out.”

“You see, that’s the thing, though.  I don’t understand how that happens.  I mean, you’re like completely honest with each other, right?”

“Most of the time.”

“You like really trust each other.  How do you do that?”

Jane pondered this.  “I don’t have the slightest idea how we do it.  We just do it.”

“Really?  I thought there must be like some kind of rules about it, or something.”

“If there are, somebody forgot to give us our copies.  We’ve just been winging it.”

“Really?  Weird.”  She sighed heavily.  “Well, um, thank you.  I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

There was something in her tone of voice that Jane found intriguing; a whiff of concerns deeper than SPFs and non-clumping mascara.  “It’s okay.  Do you mind if I ask what made you so interested in Daria and me?”

Sandi looked up at her curiously.  “Do you really want to talk about it?”

“If you want to.”

“I don’t know…it’s kind of…personal.”

“Sure.  I understand.  Well, I guess I’ll be going then.”  She turned away.

“Um…it’s okay…I can talk about it.  I mean, you’ll never tell anybody, right?”

Jane smiled.  “My silence doesn’t come cheap, but it can be bought.”

Sandi looked puzzled for a moment, then her face cleared.  “That was a joke, right?  I get it.”

“It was a joke.  Of course, if you do decide to give me a bucket full of money, it won’t hurt.”

Sandi smiled.  “I’ll think about it.”

“Cool.  So, um, what was it that got you interested in my personal life?”

Sandi sighed again.  “It hasn’t escaped my notice that the other members of the Fashion Club are not completely satisfied with my leadership.”  She fidgeted.  “It...um...occurred to me that it might be helpful for me to study your technique in the friend-making area.”

“I suppose just trying to be nicer to them was never an option?”

Sandi glared at her.  “I don’t have to sit here and be insulted!”

“Who’s making you stay?”

“I don’t think I should have to leave.  I was already here to begin with.”

“Hey, you asked for my advice.  I was already leaving.  I’m doing you a favor!  Show a little gratitude.”

“I”—Sandi tried to think of something, anything, that would let her control the situation.  “I guess this isn’t working out.”  She grabbed her belongings and left.

“Well, that was weird,” said Jane to herself.

Well, Griffin, you certainly handled that with your usual finesse.  Sandi’s face burned as she headed down the road in her convertible. What’s wrong with me?  She tried to figure out where everything had started to go wrong; she’d been doing that often in the last few weeks.  Her best guess was that it had all started on the first day of school last September, when Quinn had geekily answered that stupid history question and then mocked her openly for pointing it out.  Everything had just gone downhill from there - breaking her leg, getting fat, getting rescued by Quinn - then that stupid newsletter fiasco; the discovery that Stacy and Tiffany had known all along that Quinn was lying to their faces about her sister and they didn’t care; that nasty business with the caricaturist (and the still-unresolved question of what had happened to the damn drawing); and the cruelest blow of all - she could still hear Stacy’s mocking voice:  “Oh, Sandi, you’re so naive.”  And Stacy had completely fooled her.

What’s wrong with me?

She got home and retreated to her room.  Why should she care what Jane Lane thought about her?  She was more popular than the whole Lane family put together.  She knew everyone in Lawndale!
...and not one of them had ever shown the slightest interest in her, before now.  She did what she did and no one had ever asked why; no one had cared enough to ask.  No one but Jane.

Jane looked up at the sound of someone knocking on the door to her room. “Yo!”

Trent poked his head in.  “There’s a girl downstairs who wanted to know if she could talk to you.  It’s not Daria.  I think it’s one of her sister’s friends.”

Jane set down her glue gun.  “Thanks, Trent.  I’ll take care of it.”

Sandi was standing in the doorway.  “Well,” said Jane, “I never thought I’d see you again.  Are you out for revenge, or are you just being a glutton for punishment?”

“I don’t”—Sandi managed to rein in her temper.  “I guess this was a mistake.  I’m sorry I bothered you.”  She turned to leave.  “Hey,” said Jane.  Sandi turned her head slightly.  “You didn’t bother me.”

Sandi turned to face her.  “You certainly acted as though I was bothering you.”

“I acted the way I act.  That’s me.  Believe me, if you’d been bothering me, you would have heard a lot worse than that.”

“Really?”

“Trust me.  So, what’s up?  Why did you come over here?  And how did you know where I live, come to think of it?”

“I looked it up in the phone book.  Um.  I guess I was thinking about what you said and I’m willing to concede that I may have been a little oversensitive.  Um.  Anyway, I’m sorry I was rude.  I brought you this to kind of make up for it.”  She handed Jane a small package. Terrific, thought Jane, anticipating scrunchies or something equally useful.  It proved to be an elegant silver compact and a tube of lipstick.  “That is your color, isn’t it?  I can usually tell.”

Jane nodded.  “It is.”

“I didn’t know what else to get you but I thought that would be nice.”

“It is nice.  Thanks.”  She looked at Sandi for a moment, trying to guess what was going on.  “So, do you want to come in and talk, or anything?”

“If that would be all right.”

“Sure.”

“So what do you think I should do?”

Jane studied Sandi’s sad, puzzled face and decided to risk telling her the truth.  “Honestly?  I think you should quit and start doing something fun with your life.  You’re not going to be in high school forever.”

“I don’t know.  I’m not very good at having fun.  Being popular is the only thing I know how to do.  Even though I - um - kind of suck at it.”

Jane nodded.  “You really don’t have any friends at all, do you?”

Sandi glared at her. “I know everyone in Lawndale!”

“Mm-hm.  And how many of them could you be having this conversation with?”

After a moment Sandi’s scowl was replaced by a look of sorrow.  “None of them.”

Jane shook her head.  “You’re forgetting someone.  The person you are having this conversation with.”

“That’s right.  God!  I’m sorry.  I just flew right off the handle like I always do.  See?  I’m really not a nice person.”

Jane shrugged.  “You’re sticking around, aren’t you?  If you really wanted to be rude, you could just get up and leave like you did before.”

“So what are you saying?  You think I’m nice?”

“I’m saying I think you’d rather talk with me than treat me like you treat your friends.  Even if it means apologizing to me for being rude.  That says something right there, because from what I’ve seen of you you’re not the apologizing type.”

Sandi scowled again but her face cleared quickly.  “No, I guess I’m not.  I don’t know.  I guess you’re different.”

“Well, duh.”

“Now you’re making fun of me again!”

“Come on.  You should’ve heard the way I talked about you when I didn’t like you.”  They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment. “Um - does that mean you like me now?” said Sandi.

Jane thought about it.  “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Why?”

Jane considered this.  “I don’t know.  You’re sarcastic, negative, touchy, mean, and you have a love-hate relationship with Quinn Morgendorffer.  I can’t see how I could get along with a person like that.”

Sandi smiled.  “Maybe I should get some glasses.  Then I could be just like Daria!  I seem to recall that Kevin Thompson was under the impression they can make you smarter.”

“Well, you could hardly have a more ringing endorsement than that.”

Encouraged by Jane’s agreement with her, Sandi decided to go on.  “The really scary thing is that I think Mr. Thompson is training Jamie, Joey, and Jeffy to be his replacements.  Did you ever hear about the time they tried to catch a snake by letting all the gerbils loose from the pet store?”

“And they all surrounded Daria because she smelled like peanuts?”

“And Quinn got that horrible rash on her neck from…pistachio dye!”  Sandi was laughing uncontrollably.

“It makes me think of that time you all showed up wearing beatnik outfits because she had a zit on the back of her neck,” said Jane.

“That was awful! Charles Ruttheimer was trying to convince everyone that you and Daria were from Mars!  And they arrested Mr. DeMartino?  Oh my God!”

“That’s right!  I almost forgot about that.  Didn’t somebody turn him in to the INS?”

Sandi nodded. “It was Ms. Barch.  She really hates him.”

“I thought they never caught the culprit.  How did you know it was Ms. Barch?”

“I have my sources.”  She smiled slyly.  “It can be useful to keep track of what people get up to.”

“I’ll bet.  You have the dirt on everybody, don’t you?  What do you know about me?”

“Not much.  I mean, I knew that you and Daria disfigured that really offensive picture you did for the poster contest after they changed the poem, but everybody knew that.  Mm...I kind of thought it was cool that you did that.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hm.  I mean, I didn’t think it was cool that you made fun of a serious problem like bulimia, but I thought it was cool that you stuck up for yourselves and wouldn’t let them change your statement.  Plus it was a really beautiful picture, I mean, except for the poem.”

“Thanks.  We weren’t making fun of bulimia, though.  We were pointing out that girls do that to themselves because they’re trying to live up to impossible standards.  The idea was to get people to stop and think about what it costs to be that thin.”

“I guess I didn’t get that.  I guess I should have, but it’s not like I’m a brain or anything.  So you think it’s really bad for girls to be thin?”

“I think it’s bad to set a standard that most girls will never be able to live up to.  I don’t care if girls are naturally skinny, but some girls aren’t, and I don’t think they should be discriminated against because of it.”

“So if I was like fat, you wouldn’t think I was really ugly because of it?”

“Of course not.  I saw you once or twice after you put on a few pounds and I thought you looked fine.  I really didn’t understand what all the fuss was about.”

Sandi was almost speechless.  “You thought - you thought I looked okay?”

Jane nodded.

“Oh my god.  I thought everybody looked at me like I was that Elephant Man person.  I looked at myself like that.  You wouldn’t have looked at me like that?”  “I didn’t look at you like that.”  “I don’t understand how you can be so nice!”

“Oh, it’s just part of the whole Jane Lane mystique.  Greater minds than yours have tried to solve that puzzle and failed.”

Sandi smiled and shook her head.  “I wish I could be your friend.”

“Yeah?”  Sandi nodded.  “Seriously, you want to be friends with an unpopular person like me?”

“I guess I kind of forgot that you were unpopular…I guess that would be pretty weird.  I mean, some people would be really nasty about it.  I guess you probably wouldn’t want to get a makeover or anything?”

“Not under any circumstances.”

Sandi nodded.  “Don’t ever tell anyone I said this, but…I think you have kind of a cool look.”

“You’re kidding.”

She shook her head solemnly.  “I would never kid about that.  But I think you really stand out.  You don’t try to look like anyone else, and you don’t try to hide yourself, either.  And Burnt Apple really works for you; it’s the perfect color for your lips.”  She frowned.  “I’m not sure about the earrings, though.  Is that like alternative?”

“It’s like me.  I like the way it looks.”

Sandi considered this.  “Okay.  That’s cool too, then.”

“Uh-huh.  Well.  I certainly never thought I’d hear the President of the Fashion Club say I looked cool.  Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

“I understand.”  She sighed again.  “I guess it would be kind of silly to ask a deep person like you to be friends with a shallow person like me.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d go that far.  I mean, I don’t know if I’d call Brittany Taylor a friend, but I get along with her well enough.  And hey, it could be worse.  You could be Quinn.”

“What do you mean?  Quinn’s much nicer than I am.”

“How do you see that?”

“Everyone likes her more than they like me.”

“Huh.  Personally, I’ve always been as resistant to Quinn’s special brand of charm as I’ve been to yours.  And I’ve never had you spend the night at my house insulting my artwork and driving me crazy, so I’d say right now you’ve got the advantage.”

“Quinn spent a night at your house?”

“It’s a long story.  Parents out of town with Daria, couldn’t go home because of an axe murderer or something, couldn’t stay anywhere else, ended up begging me for shelter.  I haven’t invited her back.”  Jane paused, thinking.  “So you didn’t know about that?”

“I had no idea that ever happened.  I’m having a hard time picturing that.  God, you really are a nice person.”

“Well, sure, I’m practically the Mother Teresa of Lawndale.  Shallow people everywhere come to me for assistance.”

Sandi laughed.  “I don’t understand how you can be nice and mean at the same time.”

“Ancient Chinese secret.  Hey!  You laughed at that one.”

“So I did.  I guess…I guess it’s different when someone you like does it.”

“Oh, so now you like me?”

“Well, you said you liked me, and I like you—eeyugh! I just had a horrible feeling that that purple dinosaur from TV was going to dance in.”

“Yeah, this is kind of turning into a lovefest, isn’t it.”  Jane shook her head.  “Seriously, though, if you want to be friends with me, I’m willing to take a chance on it.”

“So could I come over to your house and stuff?”

“Would you want to?”

“Yes!  It would be really great to have a place I could go where I could hang out with someone like you and just, I don’t know, hang out.”

“Sounds like my house, all right.  Yeah, if you really wanted to come over, that’d be cool.”

“Um…what about Daria, though?”

“What about her?”

“Don’t you think she’d be like really mad at you?  I mean, she can’t stand people like me.  And I’ve been really rude to her.”

“Think you’d be up for apologizing?”

“Do you think she’d think I meant it?”

“As long as you did mean it, I think she’d be able to tell.”

“Mm.  I guess I need to think about that.  Would it be all right if I like called you or something?”

“I guess so.  Yeah.  If you really want to be my friend, I’m willing to be yours.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you for coming to see me, Stacy.”

“It’s no problem, Sandi.  What’s up?”

“I wanted to get your feedback on a plan I’m working on.”

“Um...okay.  What is it?”

“I’m considering stepping down from the presidency of the Fashion Club.”

“You’re not going to make Quinn quit too, are you?”

Sandi shook her head.  “This does not involve my being in violation of Fashion Club standards.”  She looked straight into Stacy’s eyes.  “I want you to be completely honest.  You’d rather have Quinn as President than me, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, Sandi, um…”

“I’m not going to be mad.  Just be honest.”

Stacy nodded.  “I’m sorry, Sandi, but I’d much rather have Quinn as President.”

“She’s a lot more fun than I am, isn’t she?”

“A lot more.”

“All right, that’s more or less what I was thinking.  Thank you for being honest, Stacy.”

“Um…sure.  Are you okay, Sandi?”

Sandi frowned.  “So if I’m not yelling and being mean and stuff you think there’s something wrong with me?”

Stacy drew back. “That’s not exactly what I meant…”

“It’s all right, I’m just teasing you.”  Sandi smiled; Stacy looked at her in astonishment.  “I guess I’m okay,” Sandi went on.  “But there are a lot of things going on in my life right now…a lot of difficult decisions to make.”

“Sandi?”

“Mm-hm?”

“Why did you want to consult with me?”

Sandi sighed.  “Because I know that you’re smarter than I am, and because I was pretty sure you’d be honest with me if I asked.”

“Oh.  Um…thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”  She closed her eyes for a moment.  I can do this.  “I’m…mm…sorry for being so mean to you, Stacy.  I’m sorry I wasn’t the kind of friend you deserved to have.”

It was the last thing Stacy had ever expected to hear her say.  “Sandi, are you like going to die or something?”

Sandi smiled.  “I certainly hope not.  But I should say thank you for being concerned.”

Stacy impulsively took her hand.  “You weren’t always mean to me.”  Tears started trickling down Sandi’s face.  “Thanks,” she said, barely audible.

Sandi came into the room holding a large cardboard carton; she set it down on the table, sat down, and said “This emergency meeting of the Fashion Club is now called to order.  I have a very important announcement to make.  Effective immediately, I am officially resigning as President.”  She took her lipstick out of her purse and set it on the table. “Per the By-Laws, Quinn will become the new President.”

“Oh, Sandi, I could never— um—”

“It’s all right, Quinn, I’m not going to ask you to resign.  I appreciate your support, but the Fashion Club needs you.  Are we all agreed on that?”

Stacy nodded.  “Uh-huh,” said Tiffany.  “Well, if you all feel I must shoulder this burden, I guess I can’t let you down,” said Quinn.

Sandi nodded.  “Very well.  I want to thank you all for the hard work you’ve put into the Club over the years…you’ve done a great job.  I’ll miss you.  But my life has taken a different path, and I feel I must follow it.  I’ve brought some things that I need to give to you.”  She took a massive 3-ring binder out of the box.  “Quinn, these are the official Fashion Club By-Laws.  Please feel free to ask me if you have any questions about them.”

Quinn stared in shock; she had always kind of thought that Sandi was just making up all the stuff about by-laws.  “Sandi…are you really sure…about this?”

“It was a difficult decision, but I’m sure.  Now, since you and Tiffany already have subscriptions to Waif, I’m transferring my lifetime subscription to Stacy.” Sandi turned to Tiffany.  “Since you and I have the identical shoe size, we have occasionally found ourselves in conflict over the last remaining pair of a particular style of shoe.  One specific occasion I’m sure you remember…”

“The red pumps?”

“Exactly.”  She picked up a box and handed it to Tiffany.  “Wear them with pride.”

“Sandi, you didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.”

“Okay.  Thanks.”

Sandi nodded.  “You’re welcome, Tiffany.  Now I think I’d better get going before this becomes too emotional.  I’ll keep in touch.”  She was surprised by how badly she wanted to cry.  “Good-bye.”

Sure, thought Quinn, watching her depart, Tiffany gets those great shoes, and Stacy gets a lifetime subscription, and what do I get?  This freaking binder!  She opened the binder; in a pocket on the inside cover was a Polaroid snapshot of her and Sandi, smiling and waving at the camera, both of them looking beautiful and happy.  With a start she realized that it must have been taken shortly after she’d joined the Club, back before all the trouble had started between them.  At the bottom of the picture were the words Good luck, Quinn.  Love, Sandi.

“Hey Quinn, are you okay?”

“I’ve just got like an eyelash in my eye.”

“So you really did it, huh?”

“Mm-hm.”

Jane shook her head.  “It’s not that I didn’t think you could do it, but I have to admit, I’m impressed.”

“It was a difficult decision, but I think I did the right thing.  Thank you for giving me so much assistance.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

Sandi smiled.  “Do you remember when you saw me up by the quarry and I said I was glad it was you?  I didn’t know until now how glad I was.  Um...does that make sense?”

“I got it,” said Jane, thinking that the smile was a great improvement over the seemingly permanent scowl she associated with Sandi’s face.  “Think the Fashion Club can get by with only three members?”

“They can always let Brooke join.  When her face falls off again, Quinn can take up a collection to get her a new one.”

Jane snorted.  “What?” said Sandi.

“That was funny.”

“Really?”

“I thought it was.”

“Thanks.”

“So what about you?  You think you’re really ready to join the world of unpopular people?”

“I think so. As long as they don’t try to make me join the Chess Club or anything.”

“I’m not…that was a joke, wasn’t it.”  Sandi nodded.  Jane shook her head and smiled. “Damn you, Griffin, you got me. Well, you’re going to need that sense of humor for the next part.  Think you’re ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“Okay,” said Daria.  “So what is it that’s too complicated and unbelievable to explain over the phone?”

“Come on into the kitchen,” said Jane.  “I want you to meet someone.”

Sandi rose from her chair as they came in.  “Hello, Daria.”

Daria stared at her for a moment and turned to Jane.  “Please tell me she just needs directions on how to get back to her house.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”  Jane laid out the story.

Daria took it in silently.  “All right,” she said finally. “I can’t entirely rule out the possibility that you’re both under the influence of alien mind control, but if you really want to be friends, I guess I’ll have to deal with it.  I mean, I can’t stop you…”

“I’m sorry about the mean way I treated you in the past,” said Sandi.  “I”—she forced the words out—“misjudged you.”

“Uh-huh.”  Daria turned to Jane.  “How long were you aboard the alien ship?”

“Come on, Daria, cut her a little slack.”

“Hey.  Like I said, I can’t stop you, but don’t expect me to jump in there with you.  One Quinn in my life is enough, and I think I got the nicer one.  At least I didn’t get the one who tried to blackmail my sister by telling everyone that she was my sister.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to do that if she hadn’t gone around for years telling everyone she wasn’t!”

Jane looked at Sandi in alarm. “Okay, whoa, hold it, let’s keep this civil.”

Sandi stopped and took several deep breaths.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t know.  Maybe this isn’t going to work.”  Her lower lip was trembling.  “I’m sorry, Jane.”  She was barely audible.

Oh, God, thought Daria.  “Hey.” They turned to her.  “Um…I’m willing to concede that I may have been too harsh.  I guess I can try to be a little more open-minded about this.”  She turned to Sandi.  “God knows you could use a friend like Jane.  But if she starts talking about clothes, makeup, or Chez Pierre, I am going to have to kill you.”

Sandi managed to smile.  “That’s fair.”  She held out her hand.  “Shake on it?”

Daria eyed her suspiciously.  “Wait a minute.  How do I know this isn’t a ruse to trick me into getting a makeover?”

Sandi drew her hand back and started to snap at Daria again, but this time she managed to stop herself.  She looked at the floor and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. I know I don’t have any reason to expect you to like me.”

Daria sighed and held out her hand.  “Now you’re fighting dirty.  I guess we can at least call a truce.”  Sandi frowned for a moment at the accusation of dirty fighting but smiled upon realizing the joke.  “Thank you, Daria.”  They shook hands.

“All right!” said Jane.  “So, what do you want to do now that you’re free?”  Sandi pondered this for a moment.  “I guess I was kind of thinking I wouldn’t do anything.”

Daria and Jane looked at her peculiarly.  “How’s that?” said Jane.

“I’m always doing something.  Shopping, changing clothes, doing my hair, or my makeup, or some other thing like that.  I thought maybe I could just like hang out and...not do anything.”

“Gotcha.”  Jane turned to Daria.  “See?  The reindoctrination is moving right along.”  She looked at the clock.  “It’s time for Sick, Sad World - wanna watch it?”

“Is that the show with all the really weird stuff about like dogs and stuff?”

Jane nodded.  “Um, okay,” said Sandi.  “How about you?” said Jane to Daria.

“Me miss the President of the Fashion Club’s first exposure to Sick, Sad World? I don’t see how I could do that.”

“Ex-president,” said Sandi.

Daria nodded and then shook her head.  “You really quit the Fashion Club so you could be friends with Jane?”  Sandi nodded.  “You realize that this makes me look bad, don’t you?  If I don’t do something equally difficult I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I could give you a makeover.”

Daria almost drew back in alarm, but the sly look on Sandi’s face gave the game away.  “That was a joke,” Daria said slowly.  Sandi nodded.  Daria shook her head. “You got me with that one.”  She looked at this smiling, joking stranger who had been Quinn’s cold-hearted, humorless enemy for so long, and wondered how Jane could have guessed that reaching out to her might be what she wanted - what she needed.  With a start Daria remembered another cold-hearted girl that Jane had reached out to three years earlier, the one who had happened to be sitting next to Jane in Mr. O’Neill’s self-esteem class.  God, thought Daria, I hope Sandi knows just how lucky she is.
 

Note:  Daria and its characters and settings were created by Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis Lynn.  Daria and all related characters are trademarks of MTV Networks, a division of  Viacom International Inc.  This story was written for non-commercial purposes and is not to be reproduced without express permission of Corvus Marinus, who may be reached at corvus-marinus@home.com.