Turnabout Confusion
by Dennis

Part I: We All Fall Down

Intro

"...and I don't know what I'm going to do," Quinn's piercing whine easily penetrated into the living room, where Daria vegged in front of the tube. "This is the most complicated situation ever!"

"Please," Daria threw over her shoulder. "You're going to suck it up to Sandi, and play the guys off against each other. Just like you always do. You wouldn't know complicated if it bit you on your perky little butt."

"Oooooh!" Disconnecting the cordless phone, Quinn fairly flew into the living room. "Like you know what you're talking about. Your whole life is wearing the same outfit and picking out some boring geeky book to read. Then you hang out with your one friend, and cut into popular people, who have choices to make. How hard can that be?"

"It's a little beyond you, Quinn." Daria returned, nettled. "For one thing you have to think--"

"Think! That's rich," Quinn laughed nastily. "Try actually having to do, Daria, and see how far you get."

"Oh, come on. You don't actually think your life is more complicated than mine? You get everything in the world handed to you on a silver platter."

"Handed to me?!" Quinn's doll face was painted with shock. "Daria, I get things because I reach out and take them. You just lay there waiting for the world to come to you and then act surprised when it doesn't."

Daria's voice began to rise. "Bullshit, Quinn. Try being me for a week and see how easy you find it."

"Fine! I will!" Quinn said, as Daria blinked. "But you have to be me for a week, too." When Daria didn't respond, Quinn added, "Come on, Daria. I thought you said being me would be easy."

"I didn't say it would be easy for me," Daria finally returned. "I'd have to turn my brain off for the week."

"Excuses, excuses. Are you going to do this, or will I hold it over your head until you leave for college?"

"Fine!" Daria snapped, glaring at Quinn. "A week. We dress and act like each other for a full week, starting Monday."

The sisters' glares collapsed into uncertainty as each thought, What did I just get myself into?

Monday

What started off a normal Monday veered quickly into shocking changes. By lunch, whispers were buzzing around the school at warp speed. By the end of the day, Lawndale's gossip meter had broken from overuse.

Among the sophomores, Quinn's shocking abdication of her fashion responsibilities had led to a mad scramble to fill the Quinn-shaped hole in the popularity hierarchy. At lunch, Tori told Brooke that Sandi had put Quinn on "permanent fashion sabbatical." Brooke's eyes narrowed in thought and plots began to hatch. Dawn wondered if Quinn's sudden fall would allow the cheerleaders to overtake the Fashion Club in popularity, so it was no surprise to see her scheming with Angie and Zoe before practice. Joey, Jeffy, and Jamie had been heard to lament Quinn's fall from grace and declare that if she didn't change back, they'd leave school and become monkeys. ("Monks, you idiots," Mack quickly had set them straight and walked away shaking his head.) By the end of the day, Stacy and Tiffany just wanted Quinn back as a buffer between them and Sandi.

And all that was as nothing to the upheavals in the junior class.

"I keep telling you, it's just a stupid bet, Jane," Daria said with exasperation, an exasperation furthered by the wolf-whistle coming down the hall. "I'll be back to myself next week."

"I don't know, Daria," Jane said, mischief in her eyes. "Are you sure all this attention isn't getting to you?"

"If by 'getting to me' you mean making me homicidal, then yes." Daria sighed. "I honestly don't know how Quinn stands it. If you tell her I said that," she added, "the rest of your life will be short and painful."

Jane grinned. "Now what possible reason could I have to share intelligence with the Princess of Pleather? Besides monetary considerations, of course."

Daria made as if to raise her arm to swat Jane, but felt eyes on her. She hadn't realized at the time, but the crop top she'd chosen was a good deal shorter, and tighter, than the ones Quinn usually wore. As a result, just about any arm motion emphatically settled a question much on the minds of some of the junior boys. No, Daria Morgendorffer was not flat. in fact, now that she was unable to hide it, they were very clear that she was, not to put too fine a point on it, firmly in the other camp. Upchuck alone had asked her out seven times that day. Lowering her arm, she muttered, "I'm going to kill Quinn."

"Hey, Daria," a familiar, unwelcome voice sounded, as Kevin Thompson caught up with her. "Lookin' good." Letting his eyes roam over her, he added, "Maybe we could, you know, study together."

"I don't think so, Kevin,"

"Why not? After all, I'm the QB, and you're lookin' hot these days."

"Two reasons," Daria said with a smirk. "One: I swapped you for a rat in sophomore year, and I can't go back on a deal. Two: The person to whom I swapped you, your girlfriend Brittany--you remember Brittany, don't you?--is standing right behind you with murder in her eyes."

Kevin whirled around, right into Brittany's open handed slap. He turned and fled, and she raced down the hall after him, haranguing him at the top of her lungs.

"Gotta admit," Jane said, "That was fun."

"Not worth it," Daria grunted.

* * *

The thing Quinn noticed about her first day as Daria was how quickly she disappeared. Her morning was full of shock, question, and recriminations, culminating in the huge blowup with Sandi at lunch and her "permanent" fashion sabbatical. The afternoon was just... empty, though. No one bothered talking to her; no one even looked at her. She found it more than a little scary.

Standing, alone, at her locker at the end of the day, she overheard the voices of cheerleaders, which surprised her for a moment. The lockers of Fashion Club members were off-limits for gossip, except by and with other Fashion Club members, but she wasn't a Fashion Club member anymore.

"--why she did it?" That was Dawn's voice.

"No. Maybe she worked some voodoo, so now she's hot and Quinn isn't," Angie said, as Quinn carefully kept her back turned, but stayed in position to overhear. "Brains can do stuff like that."

"Don't be silly, Angie," Dawn returned. "Still, if Daria's going to be a major-league hottie, we've got to take her into account, brain or no brain."

"Oh, come on, Dawn," Zoe said derisively. "This is Flatty Morgendorffer. Even if she's not hooked up with Lane, why do we need to worry about her?"

"You haven't seen her, Zoe," said Angie. "Believe me. We have to worry. She might be even hotter than Quinn--" Angie stumbled, as Quinn's eyes widened in horror, "er, than Quinn was."

At this, Dawn gave a wicked smile. "I didn't say we had to worry about her. I said we had to take her into account. If we get her on the squad, we can squash the Fashion Club once and for all. Hell," she added, "if we can just shove her into Drama club, or something that makes sure she doesn't join the Fashion Club, we're golden. Everyone knows that, as far as popularity goes, Quinn was the Fashion Club." Quinn gave a small smile at this. "Without her, Sandi'll be on the outs with everyone in the school within two weeks."

"But what if Quinn comes back?" The worry in Zoe's voice was mirrored in Angie's face.

"If Daria stays hot, I don't think Quinn can come back." The rest of the statement was lost in the slam of a locker and a horrified scream, as Quinn ran from the hall, sudden tears pouring down her face.

* * *

Daria, having spent the school day dodging unsubtle propositions from about a third of the male students at Lawndale high and the afternoon fending off Jane's subtle barbs about her sudden popularity, was thoroughly irritated by the time should walked through the door of 1111 Glen Oaks Lane. Her mood was not helped by the ear-piercing whine that assaulted her as soon as she opened the door.

"Oh, Christ," she muttered as she entered the living room to find a heartbroken Quinn on the couch bawling in her mother's arms. "Daria," Helen said, her warning tone forestalling a sarcastic comment, "your sister says you ruined her life."

"Quinn ruined her own life, Mom," Daria said with asperity. "She stepped into this one with open eyes. Of course, so did I."

Helen looked on the verge of a response when she took in Daria's outfit. After a double-take, she said, "Just what are you wearing, young lady?"

"The sort of thing most young ladies my age wear, Mom," Daria sighed. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've had a long day. If you need me, I'll be upstairs in my room curled in the fetal position."

Helen might have followed, but a fresh outburst of wailing from Quinn kept her on the couch.

* * *

A little later, as Daria lay on her bed counting the ceiling cracks, a tremulous knock sounded on her bedroom door. Without moving, she shouted, "The retransmogrification process is not complete. It is not safe to enter this room until the pod person is fully transformed back into Daria Morgendorffer. Please come back later."

"Very funny, Daria," said Quinn, as her head appeared around the door.

"Have you come to use the transmogrifier, too? It should be ready for you in about an hour. Or two weeks."

"I want to ask you something." Quinn's expression as she came to stand by the bed intrigued Daria. It was a mix of anger, determination, and what could only be called naked fear.

After a moment's debate between finding out what was going on and shooing Quinn off with a cutting remark, she let her curiosity get the better of her. "Fire away."

"You didn't, you know, do this on purpose, did you?"

"What?!" Daria sat up, face alive with shock. "If you remember, Quinn, me dressing like you was your idea."

"But you're a brain," Quinn said nervously. "You can get people to do what you want."

"Um, Quinn?" Daria sighed, and pointed vaguely towards the shapeless brown mass Quinn had worn for the day. "That jacket must have cut off the circulation to your head. All I ever want is to be left alone, and it seems like I never get that. I'm not even getting it now."

"Well, maybe you've just been waiting for the right time. I mean Angie said that brains can do voodoo, and I know I've never seen you do anything like voodoo, unless you do it to get good grades without trying, but you can do that anyway, and I think you'd probably use it to get a boy, but you don't have a boyfriend, so you're not doing that, but if you get rid of me then you might get a boyfriend, so maybe you used it to be me and take my place, you know, as a popular person."

Daria slapped a hand to her forehead. "Quinn, I promise you, I have no desire to be you. Most of the time, I don't even want to look at you. And," she added, "if having a bunch of unevolved monkeys staring at your chest like it's the only food source within five miles in any direction is the way to get a boyfriend, I'll gladly die alone."

Quinn sighed with relief. "So you're not enjoying being me?"

Daria nodded. "I'm just as miserable as you are. I'm tempted to chuck this whole bet. One day was enough."

Quinn smiled. "For me too. I don't think I can take a whole week."

"Okay. We call a truce and go back to normal tomorrow?"

"Truce. Back to normal tomorrow."

Daria smiled her Mona Lisa smile. "Thank God. I don't know how you stand the attention, Quinn."

"Well, I'm strong," Quinn tossed her hair airily. "I can take that stuff. It's nothing for you to be ashamed of if you can't." She knew she'd screwed up when she saw her sister's face harden.

"Not strong enough, Miss Cries Like a Baby?" Daria snarled through gritted teeth. "The truce is over. We'll see who breaks first, Quinn. I'm betting it won't be me."

"Fine!" Quinn snapped, knowing she was in trouble but too proud to back down. "You'll be begging for your green jacket back by Friday."

Tuesday

Jane had thought Monday was weird, but Tuesday was weirder still. Yesterday, Daria had been a reluctant participant in the popularity game, but today she seemed to be embracing her new status. A bemused Jane watched as six boys, three of them football players, fought over the right to walk Daria to class. Sensing a weirdness overload, she ditched class and headed for the roof to think.

Once there, she saw a familiar outline traced in the morning sunlight. Damn, she thought. If I hadn't just seen her head to class, I'd swear that was Daria. As she drew closer, the differences became more obvious. The jacket wasn't green and the hair was much redder, indicating Quinn.

"Oh, it's you," Quinn said as Jane came up.

Jane pondered for a moment before speaking. Under normal circumstances, she tried to avoid dealing with Quinn, but these weren't normal circumstances. "So, Quinn? What the hell is up?"

"You don't know? I figured Daria would tell you about the bet."

"She did. And yesterday, she acted like she was doing something she loathed for a reason, so I believed her. Today, though, she's glorying in it."

Quinn shrugged. "She's pissed at me. We were going to call a truce and I said something. So now she's going all out."

"So why aren't you trying to stop her or top her?"

"Who says I'm not?" Quinn gave Jane an edged smile. "This is what you outcasts do, right? Hang out on the roof and bitch?"

"Maybe," Jane said, drawing the word out in confusion.

"So why should I put myself in the way? I can cut a few classes, hang out up here, and let Daria self destruct on her own. She'll never make four more days as Miss Happy-Perky-Slutty."

"Don't you care about your reputation?"

Quinn laughed. "I thought you were smart. The less people remember of Geek Quinn this week, the easier time my real self will have sliding back in next week."

Jane was impressed. "You seem to have thought this out pretty well. Just one more thing, though."

"Oh?"

"Why are you telling me this? Aren't you afraid I'll run and tell Daria?"

Quinn's smile was truly evil. "Like you'll be able to get near her for the next couple of days. When she's back to normal," she added clinically, "I advice making her crawl for ignoring you. Otherwise she'll take you for granted." With that, Quinn walked away, leaving Jane lost in thought.

* * *

Quinn's prediction wasn't quite accurate. It wasn't several days before Jane talked to Daria, but it was most of one. After seventh period gym class, Jane finally took Daria aside. "Look, who it is," she said with a mix of amusement and disgust, "the pride of Lawndale High."

"Keep it up, Lane," Daria growled.

Jane bristled slightly at the tone, but decided to keep things light. "Still, not enjoying yourself, I take it?"

"Do sides of beef enjoy themselves as the main course at a game preserve?"

Jane grinned, "Point taken."

"I just want this week to be over," Daria sighed.

"Well, once you're out of school, you can go back to being Daria, so it can't be that bad."

Daria's face took on an expression seldom seen outside the presence of Trent: she looked embarassed. "I have two dates tonight," she mumbled.

"WHAT?!"

"I have two dates tonight," she snarled, this time audibly. "There! Are you happy?"

"More like scared," Jane said, face reflecting her anxiety. "Daria, I think you may have bitten off more than you can chew here."

"How hard can it be, if Quinn can do it?" Daria snapped.

"Quinn knows boys; you don't."

"Anything Quinn can learn, I can learn in a week." Daria's tone grew defensive.

"Beating Quinn can't be this important, can it?"

"She made it personal," Daria grated, and stomped off without another word.

Jane's eyes followed Daria, misgivings growing. The sense of looming disaster seized her.

* * *

While it's true that disappearing wasn't hard, staying invisible was proving tricky for Quinn. For one thing, her strategy for keeping herself out of the eye of her fellow students involved cutting several classes, something that required a special knack in Angela Li's mini-police state--a knack Quinn didn't have. Therefore, she spent lunch being berated first by Ms. Li, and then over the phone by an irate Helen, who'd been pulled out of an importatnt meeting to talk about her daughter's newfound truancy.

When Quinn, baggy brown jacket, granny glasses, and all, appeared in O'Neill's English class, a frission of shock again went through the class. She deliberately took a seat in the opposite corner from where the Fashion Club usually sat. The rest of the Clubbies knew their places and weren't about to vacate them to throw a lifeline to Quinn--all fine with Quinn, who knew her place would be there when she was ready to take it back. As long as Daria's not tough enough to snatch it, a worried voice in the back of Quinn's mind whispered. That didn't stop the wanna-bes from trying to take advantage of her weakness, though.

"That's a new look for you," purred popularity-hound Tori as she slid into the vacant seat next to Quinn.

"You know," Quinn smiled. "Everyone needs a change." She looked beyond Tori and saw Brooke behind her, a venomous smile on her face.

"Bad enough to toss away your popularity in only two days?" Tori's face held undisguised glee.

Quinn tossed her hair, and gave Tori and edged smile. "Popularity only matters when you don't have it." Looking past Tori, she added, "Right, Brooke?"

"Right, Quinn." Brooke returned an edged smile. "By the way," she added nonchalantly, "how's your sister?" Before Quinn could retort, Mr. O'Neill started the lesson, ending the contest for the moment.

She used to the time to regroup and think. Tori's still a poser. I can handle her, no problem. But Brooke's gotten smarter. She's not going to self-destruct this time.

And indeed she didn't, at least not for O'Neill's class. Quinn watched in horror as Brooke subtly drew the attention, not only of Tori, but also of some of the other medium-popular kids to Quinn's lonely state. Though Quinn was too far away to hear the whispers, she could imagine them well enough, and she could feel the eyes on her all through class. Only the Fashion Club kept out of it, not out of any regard for Quinn, but because Sandi refused to take her cues from girls less popular than she was.

The class dragged for days. When it finally ended, she gathered her things and was out the door before anyone else. Brooke, she thought, is going to be a problem.

* * *

Confusion had settled over the Morgendorffer house like a pall. Jake, clueless as usual, had only a vague notion that something was wrong, but even he felt something. Helen, on the other hand, was viscerally aware that all was not well. Quinn had been shut in her room since right after dinner, the phone left untouched. And Daria was who-knows-where, doing who-knows-what, and dressed in a manner that gave Helen more nightmares today than Quinn had for the last year.

As 11 PM slid by, her anxiety began to transform into real fear. She considered waking Jake, but decided he would be little help. After all, he probably didn't even know which of their daughters was out tonight. Quinn was usually a better vein of information, but she'd been uncharacteristically quiet after school today, and Helen didn't feel like risking a confrontation. So she waited, pacing the floor restlessly, for Daria to come home.

The loud slam of a car door announced Daria's presence. Helen looked at the clock: 11:46. She'd better have a damn good reason for being this late. The door opened, revealing her eldest daughter, and her eldest daughter's revealing clothes.

"Waiting up for me, Mom?" Daria asked sardonically. "I'm touched."

Ignoring the sarcasm, Helen went for the kill. "You're forty-five minutes late, Daria. Care to explain yourself?"

"Not really, no," Daria said, with a yawn. "I'm also thirty-five minutes earlier than Quinn's average arrival time. I'm willing to split the difference and say, 'right on time.'"

"Not good enough," Helen said to hide her shock at Daria's ready answers. "I want to know where you were and what you were doing. You're dressed like a common streetwalker."

Daria's eyes flashed dangerously. "This is how Quinn dresses all the time."

"No," grated Helen, "it isn't. Give your sister some credit, Daria, if you're not willing to give me any. She dresses to flirt; shows a little belly. You're showing everything, and sending a signal to your dates that you're easy."

"For your information, Mom," Daria ladled as much contempt onto the syllable as possible, "Both my dates were perfect gentlemen. Give me some credit. I think I can keep things under control."

Wincing at her daughter's tone, Helen shifted to conciliatory mode. "It's just that we worry, sweetie. You haven't been on as many dates as Quinn." As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she'd made a horrible mistake. She didn't even need to see Daria's face freeze.

"Well," Daria said, voice all ice. "That's going to change. Now, if you don't mind, I've got school tomorrow, and I'm a little tired." She all but ran up the stairs leaving Helen to think, What have I done?

Wednesday

Following her catastrophic confrontation with Daria, Helen was not ready to deal with Quinn the next morning, she decided to make the effort. "Good morning, Quinn," she said gamely. "Did you sleep well last night?"

Quinn, idly prodding a bowl of cereal with a spoon, didn't even bother to look up.

Her whole demeanor's changed, Helen thought. In fact, even her bedclothes had changed. Quinn had always worn a tank top and form fitting lounge pants to bed, but here she was in a shapeless red sweatshirt and baggy blue pants that clearly clashed.

Helen decided to take the bull by the horns. "Is something the matter, Quinn?"

"No," Quinn said, all closed off hostility--reminiscent of Daria, Helen would have said. "Why would anything be wrong?"

"Well, you seem," Helen paused, groping for the right, or at least not the wrong, word, "not quite yourself."

"I'm the same as always, Mom."

"Those aren't the same clothes you usually wear to bed."

"I was cold last night," Quinn's demeanor offered no further elaboration.

Helen found the blatant lie offputting, and wondered for a frantic second where Quinn had even gotten the clothes. She was about to press her daughter further when Jake hopped into the room.

"Helen!" he shouted, voice ragged with distress as only Jake's could be. "My shoe is stuck in my pants leg again!" He punctuated his exclamation by missing a step and falling to the floor, taking a chair down with him."

"Jake!" Helen's voice was full of exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you, pants first then shoes." She took a moment to free Jake's trapped foot, but the she was done, Quinn had slipped out the door. "Dammit!" Jake cowered from her swearing, giving her a moment to think. Something's going on here. Quinn's acting like Daria, and Daria's acting like Quinn. I will get to the bottom of this. With that thought, she grabbed her briefcase and headed out the door, leaving a confused and bruised Jake to finish Quinn's leftover cereal.

* * *

It was on Wednesday that things got really interesting. Plots that had been hatching since Monday were ready to be put into action. Some were comparatively harmless and created few ripples--like Jodie's. Seeing Daria's change in wardrobe, she'd decided that Daria was coming out of her shell, and tried to rope her into several student activities. A sentence or two was enough to convince Jodie that whatever Daria was wearing on the outside, she was still the same on the inside.

It wasn't totally harmless, though. Mack, unusually for him, gave Daria a "lookin' good" leer and earned himself a slap from his girlfriend. He took it philosophically. He'd probably deserved it, and Jodie hadn't had to chase him down the hall screaming at the top of her lungs, like Brittany had when she caught Kevin putting the moves on Daria on Monday.

Others weren't so innocent. Dawn was setting about steering Daria away from the Fashion Club and Quinn away from popularity with a web of misdirection that would have made Agatha Christie proud. "Alright, Angie," she said in a whisper. "You know what to do, right?"

Angie nodded, somewhat vacantly. "Tell Brittany at lunch that Sandi's looking to get rid of Stacy and Tiffany and restart the Fashion Club with all-new girls, including Daria."

Dawn nodded with satisfaction, a look that faded when Angie asked, "But how will this help?"

With a patient sigh, she explained. "Brittany's an incurable gossip, but she never remembers where it comes from. We get a rumor out that'll turn Stacy and Tiffany against Sandi, and it's not traceable to us. Even though Britt's a cheerleader, everyone knows she doesn't play the popularity game the way we do."

"Uh huh," Angie said. "But what if Sandi ends up getting Daria to join the Fashion Club?"

Dawn grinned wickedly. "Not a chance. If Stacy and Tiffany turn, Sandi will be too pissed to talk anyone into the club. And if they try to help Sandi, well, Stacy's clingy and Tiffany's stupid, Do you really think a brain like Daria's going to be talked into anything by the Moronic Duo?"

Angie shrugged. "I guess not." She had certain misgivings about Dawn's elaborate plans, but she kept them to herself. It might have helped had she known the rest of Dawn's plan.

"So, Zoe, you're still friends with some of the guys in the Drama club, right?"

Zoe, who had joined Dawn after Angie left, nodded.

"Why don't you put a word in someone's ear that Daria'd make a great addition." With a thoughful look, Dawn added. "Make sure you ask one of the straight ones. It'll take all that culture bullshit to catch Daria's eye."

Zoe, less willing to question than Angie, just nodded, and sped off, leaving Dawn alone to gloat. Mission Co-opt Daria is underway. Now I just need to get cracking on Mission Eliminate Quinn.

* * *

Little did she know that someone else was working on the selfsame mission. Brooke was just finishing a long chat with Tori about their prospects for the Fashion Club and ultimate popularity. "So, all we need to do is break Quinn. Sandi will need a buffer between her and the rest of the school. That's where we come in."

"Do you think it'll work?" Tori asked.

"Why not? We may not be as perky as Quinn, but we've got a lot more to offer than Stacy or Tiffany." Brooke gave a vindictive smile. "Sandi's going to need better help than those two."

Realization dawned on Tori's face. The answering smile that bloomed was just as vicious. She sped off.

Poor sucker, Brooke thought. But I need someone to take the fall when Quinn's popularity goes down permanently. That way, my hands stay clean. Chuckling to herself, she headed off to class.

* * *

The guys had an agenda, too, and if it was simpler, they could be counted on to be no less devious. Mack's offhand remark was as nothing to the locker room speculation going on before gym class. While Joey, Jeffie, and Jamie were still in deep mourning for the loss of "their Quinn," the other jocks and popular kids were well aware there was fresh meat to be had, even if it had been hiding all these years. Needless to say, Zachary and Corey, who'd each spent a couple of hours with Daria last night, were in great demand for intelligence.

"Did she try and bore you all with brain stuff?" asked one of the other football players.

"Naw, man," Corey said. "It was way cool. You know how the cheerleaders and Clubbies go on and on about themselves and their hair and that shit. Well, she didn't say much at all--mostly just listened to me."

"Yeah," Zachary chimed in. "And she's a cheap date. None of this Chez Pierre crap. Just minigolf and snack food."

"That's because I took her to dinner, you clot," Corey said.

"And how much did you pay?" Zachary sneered.

"Well, we did Italian. It was cheap, but good. I think I got out for like thirty bucks." After a thoughtful pause, he added. "Quinn's usually good for close to a hundred."

A number of the guys looked interested at this.

"Also," Corey said with a wide smile, "get this. I got a couple of kisses for my trouble. I might get more next time. Not like Quinn. She gets pissed if you even get handsy."

"What about you, Zach?" asked Mike, who was the center for the team.

"That's for me to know, and you to find out," Zachary said with an arch smile.

Then and there, a number of the guys promised themselves that they would do exactly that.

* * *

Meanwhile, Daria had no idea of the machinations going on around her. After her morning encounter with Jodie, she amused herself by fending off come-ons from Upchuck in each of the next three classes. Maybe I should give in, she thought randomly. It'll be a great way to get rid of this inconvenient popularity. She shook her head to clear it. I must be losing it if I'm considering going out with Upchuck for any reason.

Lunch found her surrounded by boys again. "Thank you for the offer, Robert," she said to an especially overeager suitor, "but I think I can chew my own food." With some asperity, she added, "And stop calling me ma'am!"

"Sorry, ma'am," Robert said, looking sheepish.

"Whatever," Daria rolled her eyes and went back to eating. Jane, who had already opted not to join Daria's lunchtime three-ring circus, chose that moment to stroll by, UltraCola in hand, humming "Secret Agent Man." Daria gave her a black look. With a chuckle, Jane ghosted off.

Daria retreated into herself, letting the mindless chatter flow over her. By the end of the period she was somewhat cognizant that she'd agreed to two more dates for tonight, both with football players, and that Brittany was chattering loudly about something. I can't bring myself to care what, though.

She did notice, as she made her way to her next class, the deadly look given her by, of all people, Stacy Rowe. Daria thought the expression didn't look quite right on Stacy's usually open face, but there was no mistaking the anger. Wonder what I've done to get on her bad side? Maybe she really does have a crush on Quinn.

* * *

Daria wasn't the only one who noticed the anger on the face of the normally compliant Stacy. A number of the other students, who would normally have stopped Stacy for a pleasant word or the chance to suck up to a member of the all-powerful Fashion Club, decided that discretion was the better part of valor and got the hell out of her way. Stacy was grateful. In her current mood, she was ready to rip someone's head off, and she was enough of a politician to know that the neck she stepped on today might be attached to the arm she'd need a hand from tomorrow. Besides, there was only person she wanted to talk to right now.

That person, Quinn Morgendorffer, was taking advantage of lunch hour to seek solitude on the roof. Back to one of the large air conditioning units, she looked out over Lawndale High's grounds and considered her situation. She'd heard the whispering all morning. Tori, in particular, took every opportunity to take shots at her--obvious shots, and that surprised Quinn, who instinctively knew that subtlety was the key to success in the popularity game. If I didn't know better, I'd say that Tori was being aimed at me to take us both down. But Brooke's not that clever. A pensive look crossed Quinn's face. Is she?

Before she could further consider the problem of Brooke, an unrecognizably harsh voice broke her concentration. "Why the fuck aren't you at lunch, Quinn?" She turned to see Stacy, her normally pretty face distorted by rage. "It's one thing if you want to wreck your own life, but maybe try not to take your friends down with you." Quinn scrambled to her feet as Stacy advanced. For a wild second, Quinn thought Stacy was giong to hit her.

Instead, Stacy stopped and fixed her with another glare. "What the hell did you do to yourself, Quinn?" she asked. "And what the hell did you do to Daria?" she added before Quinn could speak.

Quinn decided the second question provided a better avenue to the story. "Pissed her off, Stacy."

"You pissed her off," Stacy said, disbelieving. "And now she's wrecking the social order of Lawndale High. Good going, Quinn."

"Exaggerate much?" Quinn snapped. "She's gone out on dates with some football players and got the cheerleaders in a swivet. No big deal. She and I will be back to our old selves on Monday at the latest."

"Monday?" Stacy blinked, rage and disgust replaced by shock. "What do you mean?"

"It's a bet, Stacy. Daria and I are changing places for a week, or until one of us gives in. She wouldn't even have taken it seriously, but I said something stupid on Monday night. I'd think about apologizing, but she's so mad, I doubt she'd listen. Besides," she added, with a toss of her red locks, and a predatory smile, "I'm pretty pissed myself, and I've got her right where I want her."

"In the Fashion Club?" Stacy said, puzzled.

"Yeah, in the--" Suddenly Stacy's words registered. "What do you mean, in the Fashion Club?"

"Tiffany told me that Kelly overhead Brittany telling one of the other junior girls that Sandi was going to kick Tiff and I out of the Fashion Club and start again, with your sister as Vice-President."

"Daria? In the Fashion Club?" Quinn's mind began to whirl, as Stacy shook with anger. "In place of Tiffany and me," Stacy almost growled. "I can't believe Sandi would stoop so low. And I'll bet she'll grab Brooke and Tori and maybe one of the senior girls. Oh, she is such a bitch...." She trailed off.

Quinn gave her friend a reassuring smile. "Look, Stace, there's no way Sandi would kick you two out." Because none of the senior girls will suck up to her. "I'm getting a strong whiff of misdirection from this. You said Brittany was the source, right?"

"Yeah," Stacy nodded. "Tiff said Kelly told her that Brittany said it."

"Brittany's the biggest gossip in school, and the only one without a built-in bullshit detector. She'll repeat any rumor that anyone tells her, no matter how ridiculous. So someone primed Brittany to repeat that where one of the sophomores would hear it and tell you or Tiff."

"Really?" Stacy's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." And that's why I'll always be higher on the food chain than you ever though you're prettier than I am. "The question is, who?" she said, more to herself than to Stacy. "I know Brooke's got an angle going, and the cheerleaders may have a hand in it."

"I don't know, Quinn. I mean, Sandi's pretty sneaky. I could see her using you as an excuse to get rid of us."

"Trust me, Stace," Quinn said with some asperity. "Go and talk to Sandi. She'll either fall all over herself to refute the rumor, or she'll ignore it and send you to offer Daria my place in the Fashion Club. And while you're at it," she added, "keep an eye on Brooke and Tori. Find out if they started this rumor."

Stacy nodded gratefully, and ran off to find Sandi, leaving Quinn to ponder the chaos. "If I'd known what it was going to set off," she muttered to herself, "I'd never have taken this stupid bet." She left the roof unnerved, but determined to ride out the rest of the week. Just gotta make it to Friday.

* * *

It was actually Sandi that found Stacy, right before the end of lunch. The two picked up Tiffany and headed off to "their" bathroom for pre-class grooming and instructions. "I'm guessing that you've, like, heard the rumors at lunch."

Consumed with her grooming, Sandi didn't bother meeting the eyes of her two subordinates, nor did she wait for their hesitant nods. "Well, they're not true. Someone obviously thinks that just because," she worked hard to keep the anger out of her voice at the name, "Quinn is on permanent fashion sabbatical, we're vulnerable. That rumor was the first step toward taking us down."

Stacy and Tiffany nodded again, relief almost palpable.

"The pecking order is changing though, so we have to work if we're going to stay on top." Sandi looked thoughtful. "If Daria is looking to take Quinn's spot, everyone will expect us to go after her." Only now did she turn to her friends. "But I'm sure Quinn told at least one of you that. I'm betting it was you, Stacy."

"Eep!" Stacy's face turned crimson and she began to stammer apologies.

"I'm not mad, or anything." Sandi waved a hand dismissively. "Just wanted to, like, make sure you remember there's a reason why I," she placed a hand on her chest, almost as if she was bestowing a blessing on herself, "am the President of the Fashion Club."

"Oh, thank you, Sandi," Stacy fairly moaned. Despite her anger of earlier, she still wanted to be friends with Quinn, but she also knew where her bread was buttered.

Sandi continued as if Stacy hadn't spoken. "I'm not convinced bringing Daria into the fold is a good idea, but let's let the cheerleaders or whoever is behind this rumor see that we're reacting to it. So Stacy, go and sound out Daria on joining the Fashion Club." Stacy nodded and headed off.

"Tiffany, go and complain to one of the gossips, like that Kelly girl you're always talking to, that you're being kicked out of the Fashion Club."

"I'm being kicked out of the Fashion Club?" Tiffany said in her slow way. "I thought you said that rumor wasn't true."

"It's not," Sandi said with a sigh, "but I want people to think it is."

"Oh, okay." Tiffany nodded vaguely.

"Do it now. It won't matter if you're late for class."

"It won't? Okay." Tiffany ambled off in her usual way. Sandi regarded herself in the mirror. Her instincts were telling her that something was seriously off. The cheerleaders were probably behind the rumors, but there was something she couldn't put her finger on about the whole thing. She knew one thing, though. If I find out that Quinn is behind all this, there'll be blood on the moon.

* * *

The gossip was flying so thick and heavy that afternoon that it even reached Daria's ears. Hearing that Tiffany told Kelly that Kelly was right about what she overheard Brittany telling Jenny was enough to make Daria's head spin. How the hell does Quinn keep all this crap straight? Further complicating matters, Stacy was rushing towards her, black look from earlier replaced by one of supplication. No way to get out of this one. Please tell me she's not going to ask me to join the Fashion Club.

Sadly, that was exactly Stacy's intention. After preliminary nonsense about how Daria had "blossomed" and needed "expert guidance" to "refine her look," Stacy got down to cases. "Daria, as President of the Fashion Club, Sandi asks that consider membership in the Fashion Club."

Unbelievable. "And why isn't Sandi making this offer herself?" Daria's voice was flat as always.

Sandi had worked out the script for such conversations after the Brooke nose debacle Freshman year. Reciting the script, Stacy was still on firm ground. "After you've given it some thought, Sandi will arrange an interview to find out what you want from the Fashion Club and to let you know what the Fashion Club expects of you."

"And if what if what I want from the Fashion Club is to be left alone?" Trust Daria to get her lines wrong.

Stacy rallied, though. "Then we won't need to set up an interview with Sandi."

"Makes sense," Daria conceded. "How long should I take to think about it?"

A stray thought--something Quinn had said--wandered through Stacy's mind, leading her to depart from the script entirely. "Monday would be the earliest we can set the interview up."

"Monday. Hmmm." Daria nodded. So I can entertain myself for a couple of days with no repercussions. This should be fun. "Okay, Stacy. Tell Sandi I will consider her offer, and I look forward to talking to her on Monday."

Just then, a pair of big blue eyes met hers. They looked out from a long face under a thatch of unruly brown hair. A long nose and a ready smile completed the picture. One part of her mind assessed: A nice pair of shoulders, but not especially broad, and he has a neck to speak of. Not a football player, then. Another part of her mind conspired to get rid of Stacy, so she should talk to him. Yet another part of her mind just said, "SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

For a split-second it seemed his smile was just for her. Then he turned to another boy standing with him. "Yeah," he said, not too loudly, but loudly enough. "There aren't enough pretty girls for the ingenues. The Clubbies could do it, but they're all too dumb to care about drama. If we could just get someone smart and pretty...." He trailed off.

Daria, intrigued, interrupted Stacy's prattle about the benefits of Club membership with a hasty, "You'll excuse me," but before she could get the boy's attention, he was gone, a ghost of a smile, lingering. We may have to find out when the next Drama Club meeting is. Oh yes, we may, Daria thought.

Stacy, meanwhile, sensed something beyond her analytical skills. "Now who do I tell first, Sandi or Quinn?" she muttered, as she headed to her next class.

* * *

The end of the day came mercifully early for Quinn. The last period study hall meant she couldn't leave the grounds, but she could make herself scarce in other ways. Cutting technically wasn't allowed but twenty-minute "bathroom" breaks were far from unusual. As soon as Quinn left, she headed for the one place she knew none of her "friends" would look for her: the library.

Daria was always saying Quinn would never willingly set foot in here. As she walked past rows of books, Quinn reflected that her sister was both right and wrong. Although she didn't come here for the books, Quinn appreciated the quiet the library afforded her when she needed to think, and she needed to think right now.

The whispers and pointed remarks had taken on a shape this afternoon. This morning they were still scattershot: Was Quinn crazy? Did she just not care? Was she gaining weight? Did Daria do something to her? But now, the rumors centered on her weight. Tori, of course, had been especially brutal. That, in itself, didn't bother Quinn, but she had a feeling the whispers would move very soon, if they hadn't already, from weight to pregnancy, and that was one thing that could break her.

Putting out was top of the list of Fashion Club no-nos. And while the other Clubbies would know damn well there was no way outside the Bible that Quinn could be pregnant, that wouldn't stop Sandi from using the rumor to crush Quinn once and for all. And enough guys at LHS were mad at Quinn for--in the words of the song her mom used to play for her and Daria when they were little--"blowing all their wages for the week, all for a cuddle and a peck on the cheek" to indulge in a little rumormongering of their own.

Quinn considered the issue carefully. It had become more and more obvious that Tori was being steered by Brooke. Tori doesn't lead up to things. She wouldn't have stopped at 'fat,' if she were on her way to 'pregnant.' Of course, if Brooke was steering Tori so adeptly, that meant Brooke was playing in a whole new class. I'll bet anything Tori's being set up for a fall too. All it takes is a little 'takes one to know one,' and Tori gets smeared with the same brush as me. Then Brooke steps over both our bodies to the Fashion Club and ultimate popularity. You almost have to admire it. But how do I stop it?

She was so lost in thought that she didn't hear the footsteps signaling that someone was approaching the furthest corner of the library and the cubby in which she'd stashed herself. When she muttered to herself. "Gotta be subtle. It can't be obvious that I took down Brooke, but I want everyone to know," she was surprised to hear a response.

"Gonna take down Brooke?" an unfamiliar voice asked derisively.

"Yeah. Why bother?" Another voice joined in.

Quinn looked up and found herself regarded by two girls from Daria's class, the goth and the burnout. She struggled for a moment to remember their names and then gave up. "Why do you care what I do?"

"Didn't say we do," the goth said. Andrea. That's her name.

"Then why are you bothering me?" Quinn didn't bother to keep the petulance out of her voice.

"Just curious," the other girl said. Quinn didn't know her name, and probably never had.

"For one thing, why is teen queen Quinn Morgendorffer suddenly dressing like the homeless?" Andrea said, before Quinn could rebut.

"While Flack-Jacket Daria is suddenly taking off her armor and shooting for her sister's record for most guys gone through in a single week," the other girl added.

Quinn tossed her hair--a gesture of dismissal. The standard lie came easily to her lips. "Everyone needs a change," she said with a smirk.

"But they must be planning on changing back," Andrea said. "Right Jen?"

The other girl--Jen--nodded. "After all, you wouldn't be plotting to take another girl down if you'd put the popularity game behind you."

Everyone in this school is too damn observant, Quinn thought. "Just wait and see," she added aloud.

"What I don't understand," Jen said, "is why you go to so much trouble." Her voice was soft and musical. I wonder if she sings. The thought flitted randomly across Quinn's mind.

"Yeah," Andrea added. "Why bother with all that subtle crap?" Her voice was low and rough. Matches her image well.

"Fine. What would you do?"

"Break her nose." Andrea cracked her knuckles, showing off the fishnet fingerless gloves she always wore. "Broken nose and two black eyes'll keep her out of the Fashion Club for the whole school year at least."

Outrage warred with amusement on Quinn's face until amusement won. She laughed aloud at a mental picture of Brooke with a nasal relapse and raccoon eyes. Getting herself under control, she said, "I'll take it under advisement." Definitely.

* * *

Some simple intelligence gathering had revealed to Daria that not only did the Drama Club meet today, but auditions were being held. For what, she didn't know, nor did she care. She just wanted to see more of the boy who'd caught her eye. So, when the bell rang signaling the end of the day, she headed to her locker with unseemly haste.

Jane met her there. "Ready to get out of this hellhole and let the real Daria out of the pod?"

"Um, er," Daria hemmed and hawed, "I, uh, can't go yet."

"Demartino give you detention for excessive flirting?" Jane's voice had a definite edge to it.

"Actually, I'mtryingoutfordramaclub."

"Ah," Jane nodded. "This time in English, please."

"I'm trying out for Drama Club," Daria exaggerated her enunciation of each word.

Jane gave her an incredulous stare. "You're trying out for Drama Club." At Daria's nod, Jane shook her head. "Daria Morgendorffer in the Drama Club. The Daria Morgendorffer? The Drama Club?" She scratched her head in an exaggerated thinking pose. "Nope. Still doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does," Daria flung back, clearly annoyed.

"Oh, yeah," Jane grinned. "Daria Morgendorffer, the girl who once refused to acknowledge roll call, because she felt saying 'Present' was too much extracurricular activity, is going out for Drama Club.

"People change," Daria said.

"Not that much," Jane retorted. "Daria, you bribed Doctor Phillips to give you a note saying you're allergic to the cleaning solution the custodians used so you could get out of yearbook when your mother forced you to join at the beginning of this year."

"Look," Daria said, in obvious appeal. "I just want to try this. You're welcome to come if you want. If you don't want to try out, I'm sure they need stage crew. Think of all the art supplies you'll have access to."

After a long moment, Jane shook her head. "I don't think so." Disappointment and regret colored her tone. "I don't know what's going on with you anymore, but I don't think I want to be around for it." She tried to turn, but not before she saw the shock and hurt on Daria's face. "Call me when the real Daria comes back," she said, hurt bone deep in her voice. "If she ever does," she added in a vicious tone and turned away.

Daria allowed herself a forlorn moment before heading off to the auditorium. Meanwhile, Jane found herself intercepted on the way to the exit by a lean, athletic boy. "Your mutual dead weight society break up?" Evan asked. "Cos there's still a space on the track team for you whenever you want it."

* * *

Daria's bewilderment at Jane's betrayal lasted almost seven minutes into the audition. She'd signed her name where several other girls had, grabbed a script, and taken a seat in the back of the auditorium to ponder what Jane had said, and maybe indulge in a little hard earned sulking. But it was not to be, as a long, lean form slid into the spot next to her. Blue eyes met hers, and a broad smile filled her vision. "Glad you could make it, Daria," the handsome boy said.

"You, uh, know my name?" Daria stammered.

"Of course," he said. "Everyone knows Daria Morgendorffer, the smartest girl in the school." After a calculated pause, he added, "Of course, no one knew she's also one of the prettiest."

Alarm bells rose in Daria's mine but pleasure at the flattery ruthlessly squashed them. She colored prettily the compliment. "You have the advantage of me," she said, with what she hoped was a flirty tone.

"Me? I'm no one. Your must humble servant, milady." He inclined his head respectfully, the most he could do from a sitting position.

"Laying it on a little thick, are we?" Daria said, amused. A voice from the front called for "Veronica and Adam," and two students, a curvy redhead and a pudgy blond boy rose from the clutch of about fifteen students near the front of the auditorium to take the stage.

"Sorry," he grinned. "I'm trying to think medieval, since we're doing The Lion in Winter."

Daria looked down at the script she had ignored. "So we are," she said. "I've read the play, and seen the movie. There's nothing courtly about it."

"Point," the boy laughed. "I'm Taylor, by the way."

"Taylor? That sounds familiar." Daria looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do your parents have a ski house?"

"How'd you know that?" he asked surprised. Adam and Veronica were apparently unsuccessful, as Burton and Samantha were already being called to the stage.

"Quinn's a meticulous record keeper on subjects she considers important." Daria said with a smirk.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think your 'cousin's' affairs would concern you that much." The slight accent on the word told Daria that Quinn hadn't fooled as many people as she thought.

Daria shrugged. "She can be hard to ignore, and she was really worried about having a place to ski last winter."

"So I learned," Taylor said with a trace of bitterness. "I'm looking to move on to better things, though."

"Drama Club, for one thing. Did you join to meet the pretty girls?" Daria asked archly--or as archly as she could manage.

Taylor nodded. "So far I've only met one, though." His frank regard made Daria blush again. Into the silence that followed his remark fell the voice from the front. "Daria and Taylor. And I'm not going to ask again." The two raced up to the stage. "Henry and Alais, please, from the top of the page."

Daria had little experience with theater, but felt the scene went well. She and Taylor had obvious chemistry, much more so than most of the couples. She was worried, though, when Taylor was asked to read with a tall blonde called Shelly, as the director--not O'Neill, she noted--reacted much more enthsiastically than he had to Daria's performance.

Taylor was asked to stay on stage, as Shelley walked off, shooting a smug grin at Daria as she passed. To her surprise, Daria was called again. "Read for Eleanor, Daria," the director said. "I think that might be a better fit for you." It was. The scene went flawlessly, and she felt herself digging into the character. Eleanor of Aquitaine was her kind of woman--tough, ambitious, and unwilling to be beaten. Through three other girls read for the role, none seemed to 'get' it, the way Daria did. She and Taylor left the auditorium together.

"Wanna grab a bite?" he said with a smile.

"Can't tonight," she said. "I have two dates already."

His face fell. "Please tell me you're not turning into Quinn."

"Maybe not," she said. "Tomorrow's free, and if there's a reason, the rest of my calendar might be, too."

His answering smile warmed her like the sun.

Thursday

Breakfast Thursday at Morgendorffer Home Base was surreal. At Helen's insistence all four Morgendorffers were together for pancakes, but no one was in their proper role. Daria, dressed in a sensible blouse, but with skirt that hugged her hips entirely too tightly, was actually humming to herself. Quinn shoveled pancakes down, nose buried in a book. In theory, Helen approved of Quinn's sudden interest in the printed word. Portnoy's Complaint didn't quite match her idea of proper reading material, though. Jake asking Quinn if he could borrow the book after she was done was the icing on the cake.

"Can someone," Helen demanded, "tell me what the hell is going on here?"

Quinn looked up from the book. "What do you mean, Mom?"

"You're reading dirty books at the table, and eating like someone's going to take your food away. Daria's humming. Your father is sittling calmly. It's like we've fallen through the rabbit hole and landed in the Twilight Zone instead of Wonderland."

Quinn shrugged. "A girl at school recommended it to me yesterday. It's not bad."

Daria, who had up to then ignored the conversation, chimed in with, "I don't like Roth. He's way too impressed with himself."

Unruffled, Quinn rejoined with, "Well, it's a good thing no one recommended it to you," and went back to reading, while Daria found herself under her mother's eye.

"What has you so happy?" Helen asked.

"Can't I be happy for no reason?"

"You? No."

"Thanks, Mom," Daria snapped.

"Just being honest, sweetie," Helen responded with a honeyed smile. "You value honesty, right?"

Daria ignored her mother, focusing instead on Quinn. "Who let you the book? I doubt the Fashion Fiends are interested in improving your taste in modern literature."

"I thought you said you didn't like Roth," Quinn said.

"Given that your previous taste ran mostly to Waif, even Roth has to be considered an improvement."

"Ha ha," Quinn said. "If you must know, Jennifer lent it to me. I was talking to Andrea and her after school yesterday."

"Jennifer?" Daria thought for a minute. "There's no Jennifer-- Wait! You mean Burnout Girl?"

"What?!" Helen's shocked voice cut through the conversation. "Young lady, you'd better not be hanging out with potheads, or you'll be grounded for life."

"I don't know, Helen," Jake started to say, but at a harsh glare from Helen his words turned into an "Eep!" of fear.

"Sure," Quinn said, her sarcasm worthy of her sister, "I'll just hang out with the Drama Club guys, like Daria."

This time it was Jake's turn. "Daria! You stay away from those theater boys! They only have one thing on their mind. Sex!" Helen shot him a surprised look.

"And of course the football players just want to discuss classical music." Daria's scorn was palpable. "Now, if the two of you don't mind, the crazy's getting a little thick in here, so I'm going to head to school. Coming, Quinn?"

Wordlessly, Quinn rose, closed her book, and followed her sister. Helen and Jake stared after them for a long moment, then looked at each other. As if on cue, they simulteanously asked, "What the hell just happened?"

* * *

Quinn followed Daria out of curiosity as much as anything else, and was disappointed to find that her sister had little to say once they got out the door. They turned up Glen Oaks Lane and reached the corner intersection without speaking, when Daria suddenly turned to her. "Why are you still here?"

Surprised, and just a tiny bit hurt, Quinn said, "You asked me to follow you. Duh."

Daria smiled slightly as she ducked a low-hanging branch. "I just wanted to make a dramatic exit. I didn't think you'd actually listen."

Quinn shrugged. "I like to surprise."

"I see that," Daria chuckled. "I mean, Portnoy's Complaint? The Pilgrim's Progress might have been a stranger choice, but only just."

"That wouldn't have freaked Mom out, though. That's why Jen suggested it." Quinn smiled. "I can already tell I don't like Roth either. Pompous jerk."

Daria smiled and nodded slightly, and silence fell between the sisters again for little while, this time broken by Quinn. "Don't you think it's time?" she asked.

"For what?" asked Daria, surprised.

"Information exchange," Quinn rejoined. "Things have moved well past our little bet at this point. Five to one says Jane's back on the track team again by Monday."

"I thought I saw Evan lurking when Jane left yesterday," Daria said. "Stacy told me Sandi wants me in the Fashion Club."

Quinn nodded. "I thought she would."

"This is insane, you know," Daria said, matter of factly. "We've dressed as each other for three days and everyone's life is topsy turvy."

"Well," Quinn said, "any hierarchy is carefully balanced. We disturbed that balance, and everyone and everything has to find a new balance. I'm just worried that things have shifted too far for us to go back."

"What do you mean?" Daria asked, sudden suspicion in her voice. "All this stuff goes in the closet on Monday."

"Really?" Quinn raised an eyebrow. "And Jane's going to quit the track team, and you two will go back to having no dates and only talking to each other?" Daria didn't respond, so she continued. "I'm sure as shit not sticking with the hippie hobo look after tomorrow, but that doesn't mean I can get right back into the Fashion Club. Events have outrun us, Daria, and we're just as caught up in the changes as everyone else."

Daria nodded slowly, conceding the truth of her sister's point. "So what do we do?"

"Figure out what you want your new place to be," Quinn said. "Then make sure things fall out the way you want them to. If I want back in the Fashion Club, I've got a couple of rivals to take down. You've got to figure out how to get back on Jane's good side, or even if you want to."

Daria's face showed something Quinn had never seen directed at her before: admiration. "How did you get so good at this stuff, Quinn?"

"Practice," Quinn smiled.

"Fine," said Daria. "I'll decide what I want. As long as it doesn't involved kissing football players."

Quinn stopped, worried and shocked. "You let them kiss you?"

"Sure," said Daria. "it was a date, right? A little polite kissing's not a big deal."

"It is on a first date, Daria. Never let them kiss you on a first date, or they'll just expect more." Quinn's tone was deadly serious.

"Fine. I won't. Thanks for the tip." Daria's thoughts were resentful. I don't know what she's so worried about. I can handle myself.

"Good," Quinn said. She's going to ignore me, and she doesn't know what she's getting into. I don't like this at all.

The sisters walked the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

Quinn's words to Daria proved prophetic. Those sensitive to such things could feel the changes roiling through Lawndale High's pecking order. Like flakes in a kaleidescope, people collided, and groups tried to arrange themselves in new patterns, seeking clarity and stability.

And that was just before homeroom....

* * *

"Hey, Zoe," Taylor said with a broad smile, greeting her at her locker. "Thanks for the tip."

Zoe, dressed as always in her cheerleader uniform, returned the smile. "Daria try out for drama?"

"Tried out, rocked out, and now we're going out." Taylor didn't bother to hide his pleasure. "She's awesome. I don't know why she hid it for a year."

As Taylor headed off, Zoe felt a pang of conscience. Ignoring it, she hurried off update Dawn on this positive intelligence.

* * *

In front of Tori's locker, Brooke directed her pawn. "Come on, Tori. You know who all the biggest gossips are, because you're one of them."

Tori bristled at that, but listened anyway. "Fine."

"Prime them all." Brooke's smile was vicious. "You know: Gee, Quinn's missing an awful lot. I wonder why she'd be in the bathroom all the time."

"I know, Brooke. Quinn's hiding her belly; Quinn's sure moody these days." God, she's so frikkin' obvious, Tori thought.

"Make sure Tiffany's one of the people you talk to, though."

"Tiffany?" Tori's eyebrows rose.

Brooke gave a satisfied smirk. "Won't it help to have the rumors come from the inside? And Tiffany's almost as dumb as Brittany."

Maybe she's more on the ball than I thought, Tori thought, suddenly nervous.

* * *

Dawn meanwhile, was giving instructions to Angie. "The rumors about Quinn seem to be moving toward pregnancy." She smiled. "Good. That's the way I'd have gone."

Angie merely nodded.

"Let's take it up a notch, though. Spatter the mud on anyone you think might have a shot at the Fashion Club, especially Brooke and Tori. I know those two are angling for a big step up."

"Why?" Angie asked, suddenly uneasy. "I thought you said that without Quinn, Sandi would wreck the Clubbies within two weeks."

"I'm not taking chances," Dawn said, voice cold and face flint-hard. "I want the Fashion Club broken and gone. The cheerleaders are going to rule the school as long as I'm here."

Overwhelmed, Angie hurried off.

* * *

Quinn knew the whispers were out there, too. She was considering what to do, when a voice broke through her reverie. "Did it work?" Jen asked.

"Daria wasn't really fooled, but Mom freaked nicely." Quinn smiled. "Did you ever actually finish it?"

Jen nodded. "It's not a bad book, if you don't mind the disgusting." With a smile, she added, "So what are you up to today."

"Deciding what to do about the rumors," Quinn said.

"I thought you said you were sick of that," Jen said, face accusing. "Were you playing us too?"

"Look, Jen," Quinn said. "I'm not sure what I want. This has been me for a long time, and it's not so easy to change in three days. I know one thing, though."

"Oh?"

"That bitch Brooke crossed a line," Quinn's voice was suddenly ferocious. "No matter where I end up, I will take her down before I get there."

On that ominous note, the warning bell for homeroom rang.

* * *

Jane was disconcerted. She'd taken Evan up immediately on his offer to rejoin the track team, and after practice his offer of dinner, as well. While she didn't see this as problematic, it did give her a window into the popularity games that Daria had been caught up in for the last few days, and she was damn sure she didn't like the view.

They stood together in front of her locker after second period, he smiling and she looking pensive as she stowed her books. So far, Evan was not the problem at all. He'd been both apologetic and attentive, understanding about how important the friendship with Daria had been to Jane and willing to accept whatever penance she assigned for trying to screw it up. Now, of course, Jane and Daria had screwed things up themselves, one of a number of things screwed up by Daria and Quinn's fateful bet.

"Uh oh," Evan muttered for Jane's ears only. "Here comes Dawn."

"Dawn?" Jane's voice was puzzled. "Cheerleader, right?"

Evan rolled his eyes. "Cheerleader, predator, what's the difference?"

Before Jane could do more than shoot him a startled glance, Dawn was upon them, her round face set in a deceptive smile. "Welcome back, Jane," she said, voice cheerful.

"Back?" Jane asked. "I wasn't aware I'd left.

"Back to the track team, silly," Dawn simpered. "Ms. Morris told us this morning."

Most of Jane's experience with cheerleaders came from Brittany, who had a good heart, but a vacant head, so expressions like the one on Dawn's face seemed natural to cheerleaders. The sudden prickling on the back of her neck, though, told her to rethink her assumptions. Evan's right. This one's a predator. "Um, thanks."

"I can't believe it," Dawn continued. "You and Daria Morgendorffer both suddenly developing school spirit." At the mention of Daria's name, Jane's face darkened, so Dawn added an artificial chuckle and an, "Oops. I hope sudden popularity doesn't come between you two. I mean, it'd be a shame if one of you ended up more popular and the other couldn't take it."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Jane said icily, as Dawn, with another put-on smile waved to both and Evan before disappearing the way she came.

"Hmm... I wonder what that was about," Jane mused.

"Nothing good," responded Evan, though she'd been thinking aloud. "Dawn takes the food chain very seriously and is personally insulted by the fact that's she not at the top."

Jane nodded, taking in the information. "I don't like this, Evan. I don't like being noticed by wolves in cheerleaders' clothing, and I don't like them noticing Daria either. I feel like I'm out of my depth, and I know she's out of hers."

Evan shrugged. "Nothing we can do about it right now."

"Too true," sighed Jane. "But I'm going to keep an eye out." She smiled up at him. "Walk me to class?"

Arm-in-arm, the two headed off.

* * *

Again the boys gathered in the locker room after gym, and again they engaged in what they liked to call "intelligence sharing." Mack, who did not play popularity games, tried his best to avoid what he thought of as simple gossip. Between them they barely have enough intelligence to breathe. There's certainly none left over to share.

Daria was still a subject of discussion, though in much less glowing terms than yesterday. Robert regarded Corey and Zachary with suspicion. "I think you were making all that up. Daria did let me kiss her last night, but only a little, and I'm pretty sure she's never going out with me again." Ever the proper military schooler, he added, "Sir."

With a sneer, Corey replied, "Ever think that might be because you're as boring as Shakespeare? Going out with you is probably like watching paint dry."

Jim, who played linebacker, was the other guy to take Daria out the night before. "No offense, guys, but she wasn't the way you said she'd be. She wasn't into things at all." He paused and an unfamiliar expression came over her face. "I think something changed between Tuesday night and last night."

"Or you're just a moron too," Corey snorted.

Jim's shoulders swelled with anger. Though not as massive as a lineman, he was still plenty large enough to intimidate and much more aggressive than the mild-mannered Robert. "How about you shut your mouth, before I shut it for you."

Corey considered the size of Jim's hands and what powerful fists they would make, and then considered what it would be like to eat mashed potatoes through a straw for two months. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, he beat a hasty retreat, earning a scornful smirk from the football players, and from Zachary, who regarded the football players a little more seriously than Corey had.

"I think you're right, guys," he said. "Something did change. I asked her out for this weekend, and she blew me off."

"You asked her out again?" Robert asked. "Isn't that kind of soon, sir?"

Zachary shrugged. "Whatever made Daria come out of her shell, you can bet it has something to do with Quinn. I figured she wants to play Can You Top That, so she'd want to pile up as many dates as possible. Besides,' he added with a leer, "she was pretty friendly Tuesday night. I thought maybe she'd be even friendlier if I struck while the iron was still hot."

Slow grins spread across the faces of the other two, but someone else didn't like what he heard. Mack's interest had been piqued by mention of Daria, and the idea of a callow jerk like Zachary sweet talking her into bed offended him. He wasn't sure what was going on with Daria, but he was sure he didn't want any of the school's Don Juans turning her into a notch on a bedpost. Coming up behind Zachary, he put a heavy hand on his shoulder. "I hope you're not planning to take advantage of Daria," he growled.

In a lily-white suburb like Lawndale, turning to see an angry black face was disconcerting, even if it was familiar. The fact that the face was attached to a hand that was grinding the bones in Zachary's shoulder together and a body that was at least as muscular as Jim's also made an impression. Hastily, he tried to placate the angry Mack. "I wouldn't dream of hurting her. Besides, she turned me down already. Daria has nothing to fear from me."

"Good," grated Mack. "Because Daria is a friend of mine, and you know I hate to have to hurt people who hurt friends of mine. But I won't hesitate to do it if I need to, and the person I have to do it to will like it a lot less than I do." Giving the three other boys a meaningful look, he headed back to his locker. I can't believe Daria's running around with those guys. I better keep an eye on her, in case something bad happens. I'll get Jodie to help.

* * *

Rumors of Quinn's gravid state reached Sandi's ears, but her reaction was, to say the least, unexpected. Gathering Stacy and Tiffany, she headed off to the Fashion Club's usual bathroom for some between class strategizing.

"I'm sure you're starting to hear the rumors about Quinn," she said, taking a moment to groom her eyebrows. No sense not taking advantage of the mirror time.

Stacy nodded, looking miserable. Tiffany just looked vague.

"Well, I think the Fashion Club needs to take a stand and fight these rumors." She nodded in satisfaction at the shock on Stacy's face. "Quinn may be on fashion sabbatical, but an attack on one Fashion Club member is an attack on all of use."

"You're saying that what they say about Quinn, they could just as easily say about us?" Stacy's voice still trembled, but the look of misery was gone from her face. Tiffany still looked vague.

"Exactly," Sandi gave Stacy a rare approving smile. "It might just be someone gunning for Quinn's spot in the Fashion Club, but there are people gunning for the Fashion Club's spot at the top of the food chain, and what is used against one of us can be used against all of us." And it proves Quinn's not behind this. She's manipulative and sneaky, but she's hardly baroque enough to take herself down to take me down.

Tiffany finally spoke, a question in her slow drawl. "So, we're supposed to tell everyone that Quinn's not pregnant?"

"Yes, Tiffany dear," Sandi said impatiently. Turning back to Stacy she added, "How are we with Daria? Is she still interested in the Fashion Club?"

"Drama Club," Stacy said, excited to have information Sandi asked for. "Remember Taylor with the ski house?"

* * *

Zoe, meanwhile, had just had a brilliant idea. Over the first few class periods, she'd talked to several of the junior girls, including Brittany, who could be counted on to repeat anything, but had been unable to find Tiffany or any other member of the Fashion Club. It occurred to her that waiting to find Tiffany could bring her to the attention of other Fashion Club members, or worse, Quinn. What I really should do, she thought, is talk to Tiffany's sources. They're sure to feed Tiffany without the other Clubbies catching on.

To her astonishment and pleasure, she ran into Kelly soon after. She knew Kelly often confided in Tiffany for reasons unclear. In her opinion, confiding in Tiffany was like confiding in a Christmas tree bulb--shiny, distorted, and unlikely to respond usefully. She also knew Kelly likely had some loyalty to Tiffany that might extend to the other Clubbies, so a little subtlety was needed.

"Hi, Kelly," she said with a winning smile. "What's up?"

Kelly gave her a hostile, guarded look. "Nothing. Why would a cheerleader care?"

"Look," Zoe said, getting serious. "Have you talked to any of the Clubbies lately? There's a rumor going around."

"Probably started by Dawn," Kelly said, in a cutting tone.

Zoe shrugged. "I don't know anything about it. I do know that Dawn will kill me if she sees me talking to a Clubbie, so I wanted to pass it through you."

Kelly looked curious, but no less wary. "And why would you want to do that? You cheerleaders and the Clubbies have been at war since I got here."

"There's war, and then there's war," Zoe said, surprising herself with her invention. "I'm not comfortable with what's being said now. It's one thing to talk around terms like 'slut,' but it's another entirely to spread rumors about pregnancy."

That piqued Kelly's interest. "You mean Quinn?"

"Who else?"

"I don't talk to Quinn." Kelly grunted. "Or Sandi," she added after a moment.

"I know, but you do talk to at least one of them, and they can pass it along."

"I'll think about it," Kelly said, trying her best to sound indifferent.

With that she walked off. Zoe watched her retreating back before allowing a smug smile to cross her own face. Gotcha, Kelly. Once you use the words 'Quinn' and 'pregnant' in front of TIffany, it's all over for Quinn. But just in case.... She hurried off to see if she could find another one of Tiffany's sources before her next class.

* * *

Quinn slid through the corridors not being noticed. It was harder than it had been, given that she was Rumor Du Jour, but the practice she'd gotten this week stood her in good stead. She slipped into an empty classroom, and closed the door behind her.

As she turned, a mocking voice greeted her. "Well, well, well. I always knew you'd come back to me someday, Quinn."

"Cut the shit, Skylar," Quinn snapped. "You knew why we're here." Arranging this little meeting away from prying eyes and plotting minds hadn't been easy, but Andrea said she "had connections." Whatever they were, I guess they worked.

Skylar Feldman placed a hand over his heart and rolled his striking green eyes melodramatically. "You mean we're not here to rekindle our romance? My poor heart, it shatters."

"How about you leave the humor?" Quinn said, still snappish. It burned her that she needed him, when she could barely stand to be in the same room with him, "It's not a skill you have."

"Oh, but I have other skills," Skylar gave an oily smile. "Skills you need."

"I need information, not skills. I'm not robbing a bank, you know."

"Information?" Skylar leaned back against the teacher's desk and cocked his head at a rakish angle. "About which drug stores sell pregnancy tests and don't ask questions?"

Quinn ignored the cut. "You know what i need. Oppo."

Skyler raised an eyebrow and gave an insolent smile. "What would I know that could possibly help you?"

"You know the rules," Quinn said, deadly serious and losing patience. "We all have something someone else wants. The top of the food chain doesn't put out because it's enough to be seen with us. But the medium popular girls have to give it up to snag the high-status boys to move them up."

"And this has what to do with me?" The same mocking smile touched Skylar's handsome features.

"It's between you and Bret Strand as to who's played the field widest," Quinn said. "And I know you're keeping score."

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"What's that got to do with you?"

"Touche," Skyler laughed, a mirthless sound, and gestured at the desk. Quinn noted for the first time a green folder. "I have the information you want. But you know the rules. There's always a price."

"Name it," Quinn said, nervousness growing. She did not like the hungry, almost feral, look in those green eyes.

"Well, there's always Daria. What a dark horse she turned out to be."

Red rage descended across Quinn's eyes. "If you think I'm going to pander my own sister, I can just leave now," she gritted, very badly wanting to smash Skylar's smug face. Keep it together, Quinn, and get what you want.

"Maybe not," he conceded, following with a villainous chuckle that did nothing to lessen Quinn's anger. "I''ll take an IOU, though."

Quinn blinked, speechless.

"I like the idea of the great Quinn Morgendorffer owing me one," Skylar said, taking the folder and holding out to Quinn. "I'll give you your oppo, and watch you tear Brooke and Tori apart. Should be fun."

"And then?" Quinn asked, reaching for it.

"And then, I'll take my payment," he said in a level tone, devoid of the earlier lazy mockery.

Quinn took the folder. "How will I know when you''ve taken payment?"

"Oh," he said, eyes suddenly ice. "You'll know." With that he was gone, leaving Quinn to wonder just what she'd let herself, and the rest of the school, in for.

* * *

Meditating on her conversation with Quinn this morning, Daria reflected on the changes this week had brought about. Obvious changes, like the social upheaval around here, were still of little interest. I don't want to get mixed up in the popularity game, she thought. But internal changes--some subtle, some less so--were much on her mind.

She'd gone from a near-pariah to highly eligible by changing her wardrobe and found that she could draw the eye of almost any boy she wanted. Deep down, she admitted that she'd found that pretty entertaining. But now, she had found--may have found--a boy she wanted to attract and had seemingly done so, and she felt herself changing again. Outdoing Quinn suddenly seemed--as it should have all along--puerile and childish, so she'd been sending negative messages, in the form of putdowns and turndowns, all morning. Of course the news hadn't gotten all the way around the school yet.

As she made her way to lunch, she saw Bret Strand detach from a group of chattering boys. It amazed her how many of these faces she recognized due to Quinn's possibly former dating style. And this one, she knew, was trouble. Does this mean I'm in the big leagues, she thought, inner voice harsh with irony, or do I have to collect Skylar Feldman, too?

Suddenly, Bret's oily smile filled her view. "Lookin' good, Daria," he said. "How'd you like to spend some time with the ol' Bretster? I can wine you, dine you...." He gave a suggestive wink.

Daria was speechless at his effrontery. If he finishes that sentence, I swear to God I'll slap him.

He took Daria's silence as acquiescence. "Great. So I'll pick you up at six on Saturday night?"

Faced with someone whose tactlessness exceeded even Upchuck's, Daria could only laugh. How did Quinn ever agree to go out with this guy? "I'm sorry, Bret," she said, not even bothering to fake an apologetic tone. "I'm busy this weekend. Rearranging my sock drawer."

Indignation painted Bret's face, but before he could speak. he got a look at Daria's eyes and the smoldering anger within. Deciding he wanted no part of her, he tossed out a face-saving remark. "Well, you can change the package, but sometimes the product isn't worth it. Same old Daria, no matter the wrapper."

Daria watched him retreat with a satisfied smirk. "That's right," she said to no one in particular. "Same old Daria."

"Good to hear," a voice sounded behind her, and she whirled to find Mack right there. "Steering away from ol' Love 'em and Leave 'em?"

"Carefully," she said. "I don't want to slip on the thin trail of slime he left behind."

Mack smiled at that. "I'm glad to hear," he said. "I thought you'd lost your mind, not just your glasses."

"Nope, it's still in here." She pointed to the side of her head.

"So, you're staying away from the football players?" Mack said, his voice suddenly serious.

"Not you too?" Daria sighed. "Quinn's already been at me about this, and I'm fine." She turned to go, but Mack stopped her.

"I'm not trying to baby you, Daria," he said, earnestly, "but I want you to be careful. Most of the football players only want one thing, and they're used to getting it. They're already talking about you in the locker room."

Daria snorted. "I don't know whether to be flattered or disgusted. Look, Mack," she added, "I'm back on a no-football-player diet. I don't kill my dates, and I don't eat my kills. I'm not Quinn. Now, if you don't mind...." She gave the hallway leading to the lunchroom a meaningful look.

Mack sighed. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. Mind if I walk you to lunch? That's where I was going anyway." At her barely controlled glare, he added. "I won't bother you about dating or anything, I promise."

"It's a free country," she said, then gave him a Daria half-smile. "Besides, it's fun to talk to a football player who speaks in complete sentences. Just for the novelty, you understand."

He returned her smile, and together they entered the lunchroom.

* * *

It wasn't turning out to be a good day for Sandi. Discovering she'd have to spend the day in spin mode annoyed her. Realizing that she'd be spinning like crazy to protect the reputation of Quinn of all people had made her mad. But sensing that the spin wasn't working was driving her to near homicidal rage. Spotting Stacy in the hall after lunch, Sandi jerked her head in a gesture that unmistakably said "Follow."

For once, she didn't lead Stacy to the bathroom, but to the Home Ec classroom, which she happened to know was empty during the middle of the day. As fixated on security as Li is, you'd think there'd be better locks on the classrooms, she thought as she jimmied the lock with a credit card--the J.J. Jeeter's card, of course. No way am I wasting my Cashman's Classic on something like this.

She hustled Stacy into the shadowed room, when a voice said, "You could have knocked, you know." Her high pitched yelp went unnoticed amid Stacy's hysterics. The unfortunate girl gave an ear-piercing yell and jumped about two feet in the air, knocking over a chair with a clatter as she came down.

"Nice to keep these things quiet," Quinn grimaced as she stepped forward to examine the carnage, letting the sunlight slanting in from the narrow windows illuminate her features.

"If you wanted a quiet meeting," Sandi snarled, as she offered Stacy a hand up, "maybe your entrance should have been more James Bond and less Scream 2."

"Sorry," Quinn had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "For some reason, I thought you'd be bringing Tiffany. She doesn't scare easily, since you need half a brain to be scared."

"Whatever," Sandi waved a hand in dismissal. Quinn, she was sure, wanted to brag about how she knew they would be using this room instead of the bathroom, so Sandi had no intention of asking. Instead, she chose to put Quinn on the defensive. "Why are you here?"

"I think it's time to talk," Quinn said, deadly serious.

"And why would the President of the Fashion Club need to talk to someone on fashion sabbatical?" Sandi affected her most regal mannerisms, without knowing exactly why she bothered. She knew they wouldn't overawe Quinn.

She was not disappointed. "If she doesn't," Quinn said, voice flat, "I can go. Of course there might not be a Fashion Club by this time next week if I do, or if there is, she might not be President of it."

"Don't you think that's a little much, Quinn?" Both girls turned as Stacy, forgotten for the moment, chimed in. "It's not like the Fashion Club is any less exclusive, even with you gone."

Instead of dismissing Stacy out of hand as Sandi expected, Quinn considered for a long moment before speaking. "I don't know, Stace," she said, a rare pensive expression crossing her face. "I had no idea that the social order was so unstable. Daria and I switched places for three-and-a-half days and all of a sudden there are plots everywhere. It's like all the poisons that lurk in the mud have hatched out." Turning a serious look onto Sandi, she added, "Don't you think it's time for an information exchange?"

"Maybe," Sandi said, drawing out the syllable. "We're already trying to put down your pregnancy rumors, Quinn." She gave the redhead a shrewd look. "Doesn't that mean you owe us?"

"Well," Quinn returned the look, eyes like steel, face betraying nothing. "You already know about the bet, so I'd say that's a fair swap. I told Stacy yesterday." Sandi's eyes flicked quickly to Stacy and back, but that subtle motion told Quinn all she needed. "You don't know." Her eyes widened, and an almost unholy glee crossed her face. "Oh, I think we're definitely even, Sandi. In fact, I think showing you these little cracks in your armor gives me a leg up."

Sandi shot Stacy a disgusted look, one that promised furious retribution for Stacy's failure, before turning back to Quinn. There was reflected the untenability of her own position. With a heavy sigh most unlike her, Sandi capitulated. "What do you want, Quinn?"

* * *

As the afternoon continued, the kaleidoscope shifted, creating new patterns of interaction. Out of the chaos of collision, new orders can be born, but further chaos may also be created.

* * *

"Hi, Jodie," Brittany said with her usual perky smile, as the dark-skinned girl approached. She paused in the act of taking books from her locker as she processed Jodie's very serious expression. Brittany may have been a Girl of Very Little Brain, but she did have a sense for trouble approaching, and Jodie seemed to be bringing it now.

"Brittany," Jodie said, dispensing with the usually pleasantries, "have you heard any rumors about the Morgendorffer sisters?"

Brittany nodded, and twirled a blond pig-tail with her finger, a sure sign she was doing the unusual: thinking. "I thought you said that spreading gossip was bad, though, and that I shouldn't do it?"

"I did," Jodie said patiently. It was hard to lose your temper with Brittany, who was dim, but had a good heart. "But I don't want to spread it. I'm worried about Daria, and I want to know what people are saying about her."

"Oh," Brittany said, understanding dawning. "Well, Daria's been dating football players--"

"So, Mack was right," Jodie interrupted.

"And Quinn's pregnant," Brittany continued as if Jodie hadn't spoken.

The resultant "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!" was heard on the other side of the school.

* * *

Taylor turned from his locker to see Corey making his way through the hall in his direction. Uh oh. Smarm attack. His freshman and sophomore years had been spent trying to impress so-called popular jerks like Corey, but he had other priorities now. "What do you want?" he snapped. If I'm nasty enough, maybe the little bastard'll piss off.

Corey affected a hurt look. "No need to get your hackles up, dude. I'm just here to congratulate you."

"What do you mean?" Taylor gave the other boy a suspicious glare and slammed his locker shut.

"You hooked up with Daria, dude." Corey's predatory smile was very disconcerting.

"So?" Taylor said, carefully. "I didn't think brainy girls were your speed. After all, the strain of making actual conversation must tire you out."

"No, man. Daria's cool." Corey gave a leer. "Really cool."

"Either say what you mean or fuck off, Corey. I don't have time for you. I'm late as it is."

"Let's just say, if you play your cards right, you could be in for a very lucky night."

The emphasis on lucky made Taylor's skin crawl. He felt his anger rising. "If you want a broken jaw," he said trying hard to keep his voice nonchalant, in the face of an attractive mental picture of an unconscious Corey with blood streaming from his nose, "by all means, keep talking."

Corey ignored the threat, clapped Taylor on the shoulder, and sped off before the other boy could grab him. The anger in Taylor's eyes took a long time to die.

* * *

Daria regarded herself in the bathroom mirror with some satisfaction. Glasses gone, her expressive eyes were clearly visible, and slight changes to her hair framed a delicate face and brought out her cheekbones. Not bad, she thought.

Behind her, a stall opened and a voice said, "Well, well, well, look at the wrong Morgendorffer primping."

Daria whirled with a savage glare. "I do not primp," she snapped at Andrea, who looked back unperturbed.

"Could have fooled me," the goth girl said with a mocking smile. "Should I be worried the world is ending?"

Daria raised an eyebrow. "Surely it's not that earth shaking."

Andrea gave a ghostly chuckle. "I dunno. Daria all dolled up; Quinn going bookish. It's like something out of Stephen King. Or Revelations." After a moment, she added. "Jen and I saw her in the library yesterday, you know."

Daria forced down her curiosity about Quinn's doings. She had no wish to get pulled into more head games, even if the outcasts seemed to lining up in this little game, too. "I wouldn't worry," she said dismissively. "Everything will be back to normal before you know it."

"Oh, I doubt that, Daria." Andrea gave her a long, level look. "I doubt that very much." With an almost insulting flip of her fishnetted hand, she turned and was gone.

* * *

Tiffany headed for her next class alone. She'd decided to avoid her fellow Fashion Club members to hide her confusion. Sandi always yelled at her when she got confused, which usually only made her more confused, since it was hard to concentrate on anything with Sandi yelling. Today was confusing, because Sandi had said something about Quinn that they were supposed to say, but when she'd went to talk to Kelly, Kelly had said something different about Quinn, and she wasn't sure who had said which thing about Quinn. When this happened, she usually just asked Quinn what Sandi had said, but she was pretty sure she couldn't do that because it was Quinn they were talking about and Sandi didn't want them talking to Quinn. Besides, she couldn't find Quinn anyway.

Looking around the hallway, she saw a familiar face, though she couldn't remember why it was familiar. She wondered if the girl could help her, so she blurted "Quinn's pregnant?"

Jane, walking with Evan, heard Tiffany's question. Not realizing it was directed at her, she shook her head and kept walking. Several girls at whom the question was not directed took it much more seriously and immediately began chattering.

Tiffany sighed to herself. That didn't help at all. Disappointed, she headed off to her next class.

At opposite ends of the hallway, Brooke and Dawn broke into identical smiles.

* * *

Daria was surprised at the note that landed on her desk during History. Passing notes during DeMartino's class was not considered healthy for either the student or DeMartino's volatile psyche. She was even more surprised to find that the note was from Jodie, who was the last person she would expect to be passing notes. Surreptitiously, she palmed the note before her history teacher's bug eye could fall on it. When he turned back to the board, she unfolded the note and took a look. It merely said, "Meet me after class."

With a sigh, she settled in for the rest of the class. While DeMartino's vocal and ocular pyrotechnics could be interesting, his lectures seldom were, covering as they did material she already knew by heart. Pondering the meaning of Jodie's message would have occupied her brain nicely, but after her conversation with Mack, she had a pretty good idea of what was going on. She therefore sank back into boredom for the last fifteen minutes of the class.

When the bell rang, she rose with some relief, and scanned the room for Jodie's back. Not finding the telltale pink of her usual outfit, she headed out into the hall, where she was unceremoniously grabbed and yanked into the empty classroom next door. Before she knew it, she found herself face-to-face with Jodie.

"Look, Jodie," she said, "I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself."

Jodie ignored her. "What do you know about Quinn?" she asked urgently.

Nonplussed, Daria fell back on sarcasm. "Well, she's vain, shallow, self-centered, and afraid of her intelligence. We share the same parents, but she got my mother's hair color and I got my father's."

Jodie gave her a look of Very Limited Amusement.

"Sorry," Daria said with a half-smile. "I expected you to lecture me on my newfound dating habits. Why do you want to know about Quinn?"

"Haven't you heard what's been going around the halls today?"

"No." Daria was genuinely puzzled. "I'm still Daria. I don't care what popular kids are saying about each other."

"Not even if they're saying Quinn's pregnant?"

"WHAAAAAAAAAAT?!" Daria barked.

This time, Jodie smirked. "You know, I said exactly the same thing."

Daria's eyes turned cold with anger. "Where the fuck did they get the idea that my oh-so-virginal sister is pregnant?"

Jodie had never seen this much rage in Daria before, or this much of any kind of emotion, and she found it intimidated her. She backed away slightly, which caused her to bump into one of the desks, disorienting her for a moment. "Uh," she said as she tried to gather her thoughts and composure. "They're saying that's why she's suddenly dressing like," she paused for a moment, and her voice quavered. "well, like you used to."

"That damn bet," Daria muttered to herself.

"What?" Jodie said, not quite catching the words.

"Quinn's not pregnant, Jodie," Daria said after a visible effort to calm herself. "In fact," she added, "I'm plenty willing to bet she's never let a date get to second base. She and I had a bet to dress like each other for a week to find out whose life was harder."

"A bet?" Jodie blinked.

"A bet," Daria confirmed. "By the way, who told you about this?"

"Brittany," Jodie said. "I asked her what was going on with you two, and she said you were dating football players and Quinn was pregnant."

"Tiffany told me," a familiar voice added from the doorway, and Jane slid into the room. "Well, actually she blurted it out in the hallway, so I expect the chatter will be much louder tomorrow."

Daria gave her friend a noncommittal glance. "Hey," Jane said. "I thought you should know."

"That stupid bet," Daria shook her head, as if she hadn't heard Jane at all. "We show up Monday morning dressed as each other and Lawndale High turns into Rome in the days of the Julio-Claudians, with poor, stupid Quinn as poor, stupid Julia." Her eyes hardened again, and she swept the other two girls with a glare of purest rage. "And when I find out who's playing Livia in this little farce, they will wish they were never born."

With that, she swept from the room.

* * *

Andrea had been right behind Daria as they left DeMartino's class, and so was in position to see her disappear into the empty classroom. Realizing that something was up, she took advantage of the nearness of her locker to linger in the area. When Jen walked by a minute later, Andrea waved her over, and the two watched the empty classroom closely to see who else came out with Daria.

Their angle was not the best, but a long red jacket over runners' legs could only be Jane, while the pink shirt and miniskirt was almost a uniform for Jodie, even if her dark-skinned limbs hadn't been a giveaway. "I wonder what that was about," Andrea muttered to Jenn.

"Not a clue," the blonde girl said. "Actually, I'm wondering why you wanted to see it so badly."

"You know," Andrea said. "Still wondering how it's all going to end up."

"Thinking of moving up the food chain?" Jen quirked an eyebrow at her friend.

"Like you should talk," Andrea snapped. You're the one who practically bullied me into helping Quinn."

Jen shrugged. "It seemed like the right thing to do."

"Helping a popular kid take revenge on another popular kid?" Now it was Andrea's turn to quirk an eyebrow.

"C'mon," Jenn said. "You talked to her, too. It seems like she might want out of the popularity game. This is just helping her go out on her own terms."

"Are you sure?" Andrea gave her friend a direct look.

Jen suddenly felt sheepish. As she looked down, her long hair swept forward, hiding her face. "I hope so," she said quietly. Looking back up, she added, "I'd hate to get played like that. But she actually seemed decent, y'know."

Andrea shrugged. "We'll see. Either way, I say don't worry about it. Let's just get good ringside seats for tomorrow's show."

"You think that's the big day, then?" Jen's pensiveness was gone.

Andrea nodded and closed her locker.

* * *

Just like yesterday, Quinn viewed the end of the school day with relief. The difference was that today she had work to do. Walking through the door of 1111 Glen Oaks Lane, she made a beeline for the phone, pausing only to thoughtfully arrange Portnoy's Complaint on the coffee table where her mother was sure to see it. Once upstairs, she started making calls.

* * *

Sandi snatched up the phone and checked the caller ID. Quinn. Great. She was not happy, but she knew she had to answer. "Hi," she said without enthusiasm. I might have to play her game, but I damn well don't have to pretend to like it.

"Sandi," Quinn's voice, totally controlled, said. "You know what to do, right?"

"Yes," Sandi returned. "When Stacy brings Brooke to our mirror for the Fashion Club interview, I'll lead her out into the hall. It's pretty simple, Quinn," she added nastily. "I don't know why you need to rub my nose in it."

"Rub your nose in what?" Quinn asked. Sandi could almost see the artful smile on Quinn's smug face.

"That you're," the next words were snarled through grated teeth, "taking over the Fashion Club."

"Sandi," Quinn said in a level tone. "I'm not taking over the Fashion Club, I promise you."

"Well, as long as you promise," Sandi said, trying hard to keep the mockery from her voice. Damn right, you're not, Quinn, she thought, as they exchanged meaningless courtesies and hung up.

* * *

Stacy waited for the phone to ring. Quinn had said she'd call, and Stacy could only hope she wouldn't be disappointed. Even after the past week, Stacy wanted to believe that Quinn was her friend, and that they could stay friends after whatever happened happened. Mostly, she just wanted things to go back to the way they were. They hadn't been great, she knew, since she was Sandi's doormat, but they were so much better than they could be. After all, she was a popular doormat.

When the phone rang, Stacy seized it with such force that she almost dropped it. "Quinn! Quinn? Hi, Quinn!" she breathed in frantic succession.

"Hi, Stacy."

She could hear a sigh in Quinn's voice over the line. On the verge of panic--what if Quinn hates me now?--she took a deep, calming breath. "What's up?"

"I just called to confirm the plan," Quinn said calmly.

>I'll make her happy. I'll get the plan right. Words spilled from Stacy's mouth like a desperate prayer. "Before school, I have to tell Brooke that Sandi wants to interview her for the Fashion Club, after... um, second, no wait, is it third, no second period, and then I just bring her to Sandi, but wait, I have to make sure I ask her in front of Tori and not ask Tori. Right?" Silence greeted her on the line, and her voice rose with hysteria. "Right, Quinn?!"

"Pretty much." Quinn said slowly. "After second period is fine. I'll remind you after first period anyway. And it's very important that you do it in front of Tori. Okay." Stacy could hear the steel creeping into Quinn's voice. "Don't forget that."

"Right, Quinn! I won't." She was so surprised and frightened at the tone of Quinn's voice that she forgot to be upset when the phone disconnected without another word.

* * *

Tiffany regarded the reflection in her mirror rapt attention. I can be a model, she thought. Models are supposed to be exotic. I'm exotic. It wasn't the first--or twentieth--time she'd thought these things, but the well worn mental paths were comfortable. When the phone rang and broke her concentration, she swore lightly under her breath.

"Hello," she said, not really interested.

"I'm not pregnant." Quinn's voice.

"Did I say you were?" Tiffany honestly couldn't remember. She knew Sandi had said something about Quinn, or maybe it was Kelly, but that was school stuff, and she tried not to think about it outside of school.

"Yes. You did." Quinn's voice was flat. Tiffany wondered if she was mad.

"Why would I do that?"

Quinn explained--at great length. When she was done, even Tiffany understood. Quinn demanded she remember. "Just tell everyone you're not pregnant," Tiffany said. She wondered what the big deal was.

"Right," Quinn said, and hung up the phone. Tiffany went back to staring at her mirror.

* * *

Quinn sighed. The last phone call was going to be the hardest. She wished she could have used Tiffany for this, but Tiff was too close to the Fashion Club and... well, she wasn't that bright either. Someone Quinn had a connection with, but not someone known to be at Quinn's side all the time was a better idea, especially if that person had two brain cells to rub together. She dialed.

"What?!" The voice, after five rings, was surly.

"Hi," Quinn hid her nerves. "I need a favor." Her plans hinged on this call, and she wasn't sure cooperation would be forthcoming.

"Ha! And why would I do you a favor?"

"You owe me. Thanks to this week, you've taken a big jump on the popularity scale." Quinn struggled to keep the pleading from her voice.

The voice was derisive. "You make it sound like that was a good thing."

"It was. You have a boyfriend now."

"Point." Quinn's heart leapt at the response. "What do you need?"

"Two phone calls. I'll give you the numbers."

"Oh?" She could hear curiosity now.

I've got her! As she spoke, Quinn struggled to control her rising excitement. "Call Brittany and tell her Robert and Mike are bragging about a new conquest, and tell Tori that Brooke will be asked to join the Fashion Club tomorrow."

"This supposed to mean something to me?"

"It can if you want it to. If you don't care, don't worry about it."

A long pause followed, and then the voice said, "Fine! But I want immunity. No one finds out I made these calls and you keep me out of your popularity games. I'm not a toy to be used, Quinn." Real anger filled the last few words.

"Agreed," Quinn said, ignoring the anger. "Just this once, Jane. I promise." Quickly, she gave Jane the phone numbers before saying goodbye. I'll keep my promise, she thought. After all, I may be out of the game soon myself.

Lost in thought, she didn't hear footsteps pass her door or the door slam as Daria left for her date.

Friday

Her bedroom was still dark as Daria groped towards consciousness. Suspended in the half-world between dreams and waking, she was susceptible to feeling without analysis, and a vague disquiet washed over her. Something had happened last night that interfered with her sleep now. As her unconscious mind groped toward the memory, the anxiety gave way to a rush of pleasure--some awkward to be sure, but she was aware of her body in a way she never had been before. Following the sensation was guilt, and Daria's eyes snapped open.

Did I dream about stealing candy? What? Her eyes swept the room, but between the blur and the darkness she saw little. Her eyes were too bad to even make out the red of the digits on her alarm clock, but she guessed it wasn't much past 4, if even that late. A sensation of mild discomfort between her legs struck her, and her memory came rushing back.

Aw, fuck! she thought. I didn't! She looked down to find a trace of blood still on her leg. I did. She gave a heavy sigh. Like the fatalist she was, she thought, What's done is done. Now, I'll deal with it.

Sorting through her memories, which were not at all disjointed now that she was fully awake, she felt again the pleasure her subconscious mind had fed her. Taylor had been a perfect gentleman. They'd had a nice dinner together--Taylor managed a glass of wine despite his age, but Daria, instinctively wary thanks to Jake's occasional overindulgence, had stuck to soda. The conversation had been wonderful, and she'd started to enjoy herself in a way she never had before, not even with Jane.

Maybe it was the surprise that not only was she attracted to this boy, but the attraction was clearly mutual. Dating the football players had inured her to physical contact. She suspected she wouldn't have accepted Taylor's suggestion--No, wait. I made that suggestion. She frowned. Maybe Jane is right, and I've forgotten who I am.

They'd gone up to make out point to listen to some classical music. And do other things. The pleasure of being kissed by someone whose kisses she wanted, and who wanted to kiss her, had gone to both their heads very quickly, and before they knew it, things had progressed way farther than either had expected. She'd almost been angry enough to leave the car when Taylor produced a condom, but she was damn grateful now.

Part of her mind held on to the joy of their bodies, of being that close to someone who wanted to be close to her; part of her mind recoiled at how easily she lost control. Alone in the dark, Daria wondered who she could tell. She'd alienated Jane, didn't trust Quinn, and couldn't deal with an onslaught from Hurricane Helen and Typhoon Jake. "So, I'm not a virgin anymore," she muttered to herself.

Deep in thought, she noticed neither the small smile on her face or the tears coursing down her cheeks.

* * *

"--no, Eric!" Helen said, "We've been reviewing those briefs for the past week and a half, and we're not going to court for another 10 days. There's no reason to go over them again, and certainly not at 7:30 in the morning."

None of the other Morgendorffers could hear Eric's response, but based on Helen's expression, it was either ridiculous, needy, infantile, or some combination of the thee. "I'll see you at 9 a.m. sharp, Eric. Good bye!" For a moment, she looked as if she was going to slam the phone down, but as it was a cell phone, she settled for closing it with a satisfied snap.

Normally, Helen wouldn't dream of insisting she be allowed to come to work at her ostensible starting time, but her children's weirdness had not subsided. If anything, it had increased. Although Quinn was back in stylish clothes--cream top with flared sleeves and a bared midriff, and dark pants in an Italian cut--she was vibrating with excitement, almost too excited to talk. And a Quinn too excited to talk was possibly even more worrisome than a Quinn reluctant to talk.

Daria, meanwhile, was dressed more sensibly, with a long skirt and short jacket combo over a very sensible pink blouse. Where did she get all those outfits? Helen thought. Last week, she had five sets of the same black skirt and rust T-shirt, and now she's got enough clothes in different styles to dress all of Sybil's personalities.

Daria's demeanor was also worrisome. Though withdrawn was hardly unusual--Daria could go days around the house without talking--her eyes, always alive, seemed to miss nothing. Finding those eyes dull and the face set in a "little girl lost" expression bothered Helen very much. Placing the stack of waffles she'd been preparing before Eric's interruption on the table, she ventured a question. "Is everything all right, Daria? You seem bothered by something."

Daria's head turned slowly towards her, and even Jake lowered his paper. But instead of the expected explosion, Daria merely said, in quiet voice. "Just thinking about," she paused, "something." She sank back into quiet, her lost expression deepening slightly.

"Is it something I can help with?" Helen asked, still anxious.

Daria seemed not to hear for a moment. When she finally responded, she did so without looking up. "I'll let you know when I've worked it out."

Still uneasy, Helen let her attention leave Daria and wander over the rest of the family. Jake shoveled waffles down like the condemned. He wasn't about to let a little thing like confusion about their daughters get in the way of a home cooked (or thawed and toasted) breakfast. Quinn, on the other hand, had barely touched hers. "Quinn," Helen asked. "How about you?"

"How about me what, Mom?" Quinn's artful look was spoiled somewhat by the nervous tapping of her thumb against the breakfast table.

"Well, you seem a little," Helen let her eyes fall to Quinn's rapidly twitching thumb, "nervous."

"Oh, that." Quinn's trilling laugh was obviously artificial, even by Quinn standards. "Big test today. Big test. If I do well, I'm set for the rest of the school year."

"That's funny," Helen said in her best "concerned mother" voice. "You didn't tell me about this."

"They just sprung it on us yesterday," Quinn said. "Look at the time. Gotta go!" With that, she darted out the door leaving uneaten pancakes and questions.

Helen turned her attention back to her elder daughter. "Daria, do you know anything about this?"

Daria, lost in thought, seemed not to hear until Helen repeated herself. "Oh, um," she said uncertainly. "It's not something I have to worry about." Her mother watched her intently as Daria seemed to struggle with something. After a moment, she seemed to resolve the struggle. "Mom?" she said, voice uncertain.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I, that is--"

Before she could finish, Helen's cell phone interrupted. Swearing savagely under her breath, Helen snatched it up and flipped it open. "I will be there at 9," she snarled. Whether Eric said seemed not to satisfy her, as her next words were, "No buts, Eric! I'll see you at 9!" She flipped the phone closed, but when she turned back, Daria was gone. Seeing no other outlet for her anger, she rounded on Jake, and berated him for not keeping Daria there. Their argument was so fierce that Helen didn't reach work until almost 9:30.

* * *

The players in the game lined up, pairing off for their final moves, rehearsing plots and stratagems, but all making a point of getting to school early. Quinn was at the center of this many-sided war, and Quinn would signal when the endgame began. Everyone waited to see her arrive.

* * *

Sandi marshaled Stacy and Tiffany with the air of general planning a last stand. Like Horatius at the bridge, she didn't expect to get out of this alive.

"You both, like, know what to do, right?"

"Yes, Sandi," the other two nodded in unison, though Stacy's face showed exasperation.

For a moment, the possibility of betraying Quinn swam dizzyingly into Sandi's mind, but she fought them down. She might be done as the Queen Bee of this school, but with Quinn, she had a chance to claw her way back. Going over to the other side would lose her Stacy and Tiffany, and either give the Fashion Club to Brooke or make her a cog in Dawn's popularity machine. Turning again to Stacy, she said, "Quinn swears Tori will make the accusation, but if she doesn't, it has to be you. Give her two minutes, then speak up."

Stacy nodded, and Sandi sighed, as they waited for Quinn. Even if this works, I lose. How did I misstep so badly?

* * *

Brooke regarded her pawn with something like fondness. Like Emperor Palpatine, she felt that everything had gone according to her plan. The invitation to join the Fashion Club had come exactly when she expected, putting her in position to cash Tori in for the chance to take down Quinn. She fully expected to have the Fashion Club, and the school, at her feet within a week.

Feeling Brooke's eyes on her, Tori schooled her face to neutral. The call from Jane Lane, of all people, had been something of an eye opener. She'd never expected her alliance with Brooke to last past the point of convenience for either of them, but she hadn't expected to be cast aside so lightly. Fortunately, she had enough dirt on Brooke to take her down with ease. The reactor shaft waited, and all she had to do was avoid the splashback.

Their mutual plans had been set yesteday, so there was no need to speak. Brooke merely gave Tori a wink and a smile. Oh, Tori, she thought. I'll be almost sorry to see you go down. Almost.

Tori returned a half-smile. Sell me down the river, will you? You'll live to regret it. Very, very soon.

In each other's company, but not together, they watched for Quinn's arrival.

* * *

Dawn was maneuvering her pieces with a skill that would make Garry Kasparov proud. As Angie disappeared for a last round of rumormongering, Zoe arrived for reassurances.

"You know what to do," Dawn said.

"Is this really necessary?" Zoe asked, a tremble in her voice.

Weakness, Dawn thought. I despise it. That's what put us under the heel of the Fashion Club in the first place. To Zoe, she turned a predatory smile. "Oh, yes. It'll kick out all of Quinn's supports, and she'll take the Fashion Club down with her."

"But do we have to hurt him?" Zoe's voice had a pleading note. "He doesn't deserve this."

"We'll make it up to him, Zoe. Now get ready," she said, voice imperious. With a snarl, she added. "And get the timing right! I don't want any of this getting back to Quinn until after we've taken her down."

Cowed, Zoe fled, as Dawn opened her locker. A note fell out, accompanied by a single playing card. As her eyes scanned the note, she bent down to pick up the card. The Ace of Spades. This was her ace in the hole. My card. The Death card. And it's not my popularity that dies today. Shredding the note, she laughed and watched for Quinn, idly rubbing the card between her fingers.

* * *

Quinn choreographed her entry carefully. Five minutes before homeroom, timed for maximum hall occupancy, she burst through the main doors as stylish as ever--as if the past week had never happened. But, while Joey, Jeffy, and Jamie nearly jumped for joy, the rest of the school's response was less than satisfactory.

No surprise showed on the faces of Dawn or Brooke. They knew it would be today, Quinn thought. But they don't know everything. I'll break Brooke, and Dawn, too, if I have to, and there's nothing they can do to stop me. Head held high, she strode to her locker, ignoring her doubts and the susurration of voices around her.

* * *

The summons came, as Brooke knew it would, just before lunch. She hadn't anticipated that Tori would be there when Stacy came, but she put it down to the notorious incompetence of the lesser members of the Fashion Club. Well, Sandi will be trading up, so she won't need Stacy and Tiffany anymore anyway.

* * *

Stacy was somewhat nervous as she approached Brooke. She knew the call had to come in front of Tori, but what if Brooke defended Tori? That would blow their whole carefully choreographed scene to Hell. Quinn was convinced Brooke wouldn't, and Quinn was good at mind games, but Brooke had been playing at a higher level lately too.

She reached Brooke and nodded to Tori. Suddenly inspiration struck. Tori already knows that Brooke's done using her, so I don't need to say anything out loud. I don't even have to say anything at all. I just have to make sure Brooke follows me, and if I don't give her a chance to respond, I don't give her a chance to defend Tori. Suddenly smiling, she tapped Brooke on the shoulder. "Follow me," she whispered, before giving Tori an uncomfortable smile. At Brooke's nod, elation leaped within her. It's going to work!

* * *

Rage smoldered in Tori as she watched the little scenelet play out. That bitch! Her mind went back to the strange phone conversation from last night. Who would have thought that Jane Lane, of all people, would take such an interest in the popularity game. Of course, Jane was Daria's friend, and Daria was Quinn's sister, so she might have been caught in even murkier machinations. But I don't care! Brooke's going to learn that it's a bad idea to leave a live enemy behind her, especially one who knows her weak spots.

* * *

Brooke wasn't the only person anticipating things. Dawn watched from up the hall, an evil smile on her face. The trouble with having to set obvious traps, she thought, is that a better hunter might recognize the bait and set a more subtle trap. Still fingering the Ace of Spades, she sped off to set her own plans in motion.

* * *

Brooke followed Stacy eagerly, feeling a thrill as they approached the bathroom that held the Fashion Club's mirror. Admittedly, it was just a bathroom, but it was also a seat of power, and not someplace to be approached lightly. She let herself drift for a moment in fantasies of undreamed of popularity, before Sandi's presence brought her back to herself.

"Isn't Sandi usually inside the bathroom?" she asked Stacy.

Stacy shrugged, careful not to meet Brooke's eye. "It depends."

Brooke had a sudden image from a gangster movie she'd watched with her dad--a disquieting image ending in blood, instead of the expected gain. Ruthlessly, she squashed it down. She was in control here.

"Brooke," Sandi extended the word like a benediction, a blessing only she could bestow.

"Sandi," Brooke responded, without mockery, a supplicant awaiting her apotheosis.

"We've considered your membership application for the Fashion Club," Sandi continued, "and we think we have an opening." A crowd was beginning to gather to watch this changing of the guard: Brooke's ascension and Quinn's fall.

Brooke said nothing, merely nodded.

"We've talked before about what the Fashion Club expects from its members." Sandi considered Brooke for a long moment, before continuing. "And your fashion sense has been excellent this year." Unnoticed Tori joined the crowd, as did Dawn a moment later.

"Thank you, Sandi," Brooke struggled to keep her voice even. Her moment was coming!

"And you know what the Fashion Club will not tolerate from its members," Sandi played with the emphasis, aware of the crowd and letting herself get lost in the carefully choreographed scene. "We are the most eligible of the eligible," she let hauteur color her voice, "and we do not use our favors as bargaining chips." Under cover of giving Brooke a piercing look, she noted the approach of Bret, Sklyer, Corey, Kevin, and several other boys--boys she knew Brooke had been with, thanks to Quinn's black ops material. Time to drop the hammer and see if Quinn is right.

"You have no such indiscretions," she paused, artful and dramatic. "Do you, Brooke?"

"No," Brooke said clearly. "I'm no tramp."

"Well, then," Sandi started before a vicious shriek interrupted. Dammit! Sandi thought, Why does frikkin' Quinn have to be right all the frikkin' time.

The shriek, of course, was Tori's, placed there by Quinn, through Jane, to say exactly what she was about to say. "You bitch," she snarled. "You FILTHY, LYING slut!"

Brooke turned as if slapped. "Shut up, Tori," she growled in a low voice, a voice that promised pain.

But Tori was beyond caring. "Did you think I'd let you use me and throw me aside?" Turning to the rest of the hall, she shouted, "Brooke's been ridden by more guys than Space Mountain! She's easier than a 10 piece jigsaw puzzle!"

"Shut the fuck up, Tori!" Brooke made as if to lunge at her, but was grabbed by Stacy and Tiffany. From a nearby classroom where she could see almost everything, Quinn gave a sigh of relief. A fistfight would draw Li or a teacher, and It wouldn't do to have her careful choreography ruined.

"You want names?" Tori laughed maniacally. "Or should I just ask everyone who's had her to raise their hands? I see Bret, Skylar, and Corey, and I know none of them will have a problem bragging about it. Half the football team's here, too." With a mocking leer, she added, "Is that the half you had?"

"Brooke," Sandi said, "Those are serious accusations. Do you deny them?"

"Of course I deny them," Brooke said, her desperation visible in the beads of sweat forming on her high forehead. "Look at her. She's out of her skull. I'd never prostitute myself like that."

"Is that so?" A new voice joined the crowd, and Brooke knew, suddenly knew, that she'd been had, that everyone one watching this little scene was in on it but her. She'd staked everything on a bold throw, thinking her opponent was down and out, but as Quinn emerged, stylish as ever, Brooke knew that she'd been taken for all of it. "Let's see what the guys say. Was Brooke too good for you, like she said?"

An angry babble came from the guys. Brooke heard none of it. The movie scene came back to her even more strongly. Tommy, thinking he was about to become a made man, finding not a celebration, but a bullet in the brain. This bullet was metaphorical, but as far as high school went, she was just as dead. She slunk away.

Quinn watched her go, a look of satisfaction on her face, but turmoil rolling through her brain. I won. So why doesn't this feel better? She'd never had to respond so viciously to a threat to her popularity before, and when she wasn't even sure she wanted to be popular anymore. She felt faintly sick to her stomach. That might be why she didn't notice that the second act was about to begin.

* * *

Dawn pushed her way through the crowd, her face all phony congratulations. "Well done, Sandi," she addressed herself to the Fashion Club's titular leader. "I'm glad to see the Fashion Club is not lowering its standards."

Sandi, who knew damn well that Dawn hated her like poison, wasn't about to bother with niceties. "What do you want, Dawn?"

"Just to congratulate you," Dawn said, affecting a hurt look. "It's not easy to maintain standards. People try so hard to hide things, to be people they aren't just to get ahead. Thank goodness, you saw through Brooke."

"What do you want, Dawn?" Sandi repeated. "I'm not going to ask again."

"Just to let you know that Brooke wasn't the only one with secrets. You have a cuckoo in your midst." She paused, a vicious smile on her face, letting the moment play out. Here's the real trap. "Right, Quinn?"

At the sound of her name, Quinn whirled. "What are you talking about, Dawn?"

"Just this, Quinn," Dawn said. "Brooke's not the only one who's been, shall we say, free with her favors."

"I'm sure she's not," Quinn said, all equanimity. "But I think you'd know more about that than I do." Her eyes scanned the crowd as her mind whirled. No potential allies. Just neutrals and hostiles. Looks like I'm on my own. She suddenly wished her sister were there, and wondered why. Daria'd never shown any interest in Quinn's popularity before. But she is my sister, and she has looked out for me in the past.

Dawn, meanwhile, gave a light chuckle. "Maybe. But then the cheerleaders have never been as," an artful pause, "rigid as the Fashion Club. Unlike you, we have nothing to hide."

"Say what you mean, Dawn," Sandi snapped before Quinn could speak. "I'm tired of these snide innuendos."

"Oh, I don't think it's my place to say." With a negligent flip, she let the Ace of Spades fall from her hand. In a second, spinning after it came another card, a joker, and Skylar Feldman moved through the crowd.

"Quinn," he said, a pleading look on his handsome features, "please stop pretending it meant nothing to you."

"What the hell are you talking about, Skylar?" Quinn spluttered.

"Please don't do this," he said again. He met Quinn's eyes, and for a split second he allowed her, and only her, to see the evil glee there. Some people don't forgive and forget, you stuck-up bitch, they seemed to say. Then he was all pain and solicitude again. "I know why you ended it, and I know how much it hurt for you, but please don't say act like it never happened."

Suddenly, all eyes were on Quinn. And there was nothing she could say. She knew damn well what he was insinuating, and she had no way to fight it, but she had to try. "Skylar, I have no idea what you're talking about. We had one date freshman year, and I know you're not still carrying a torch for me, because if you are, you've carried it into the bedrooms of half the girls in school."

"It's true," Skylar said, voice filled with sadness and regret. "I've been something of a rake in my time at Lawndale High, but I thought I'd put that behind me, that we'd put that behind us, when we started seeing each other. I thought we were in love, Quinn."

"In love?" Quinn laughed in disbelief. "You've never said that to anyone but your mirror." An angry murmur ran through the crowd. She was losing them, and she knew it.

"I mean, I know why we had to stop. It was hard for me, too." he added a little catch to his voice, causing several girls in the crown to wonder why they'd never realized how deep Sklyar's feeling ran and an angry Quinn to wonder why he hadn't ever gone out for Drama Club with acting chops like that. "But I know it was harder for you. To have to go through that, as young as you are, as young as we are."

Quinn could almost see the connections snap into place in the eyes around her. Her change in wardrobe, the rumors, and now this. "Surely you don't believe this," she hissed at her fellow Clubbies.

Tiffany looked confused, and Stacy hurt. Sandi just looked haughty.

"You do." Quinn wanted to scream. "It's Dawn," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "She's laying a trap, too. I had one date with Skylar over a year ago. We've never even kissed, and I damn sure haven't had," she struggled with the word and lost, "anything like that done." It didn't matter, since everyone knew what she was talking about.

The crowd looked confused. Skylar just looked mournful, while Dawn looked triumphant. "But you've been meeting him in empty classrooms, Quinn. A bunch of people saw you." At that, most of the crowd nodded.

Check and mate, Quinn thought, incongruously. She'd lost the crowd, and looking at Sandi, Stacy, and Tiffany again, she knew she'd lost them too. She'd used the crowd to chew up Brooke and spit her out only to be taken down. The biter bit. And now I don't have to decide whether I want to be popular. She sighed and lowered her head.

Skyler made as if to embrace her. In her ear, he whispered, "Paid in full." Reflexively, she brought up her knee. It wouldn't be a dignified exit, she knew, and the crowd would no doubt hate her even more, but as she watched Skyler roll on the ground in agony, she decided it was worth it.

* * *

Several hallways over, Daria found herself confronted by a plague of cheerleaders. Angie had twittered at her nonstop through class, about what Daria had no idea. Her monosyllabic responses had done nothing to stem the flow of chatter, and even employing much of her stock of fifty-cent, dollar, two-dollar, and even five pounds three and six words had only elicited a momentary look of confusion, followed by even more inane prattle.

Daria greeted the bell with purest relief, as Angie's chatter finally faded, but the respite was only momentary. To Daria's horror, Angie followed her into the hall and towards her locker. Right, she thought. Now it's time to get the big guns out. "Angie," she said, interrupting the flow of words, "don't you have something you'd rather be doing?"

"Like what?" Angie asked, twirling a hank of brown hair in fair imitation of Brittany.

"Like going down on a football player," Daria said, as nastily as she could. "There's still a few minutes before our next class, and I'm sure Kevin's around somewhere."

"Well, I never," Angie snapped and stalked off.

"I'm not taking the Vegas odds on that," Daria muttered. Not that I have any right to criticize, given my own less than factory new condition. She badly wanted more time to think. Well, actually, she badly wanted to talk to Jane, but her erstwhile partner in crime was nowhere to be found this morning. She'd have settled for Quinn in a pinch, despite her sister's obvious disgust for things sexual, but Quinn had been bouncing off the walls at home, which meant she was too busy with some popularity ploy to listen to her sister.

Thinking of Quinn made her wonder exactly what was going on. This week had been strange for her, no doubt, up to and including losing her virginity, but in may ways it was worse for Quinn, whose loss of identity and popularity might drive her to desperate measures. Daria had just decided to try to track down her little sister when she found herself confronted by another cheerleader, the blonde Zoe.

"Hi, Daria," Zoe said with a cheerful wave.

"Hello, Zoe," Daria said in a flat monotone. "Can you excuse me? I'm kinda busy at the moment."

"Oh sorry. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute. I'm so happy you've decided to become more popular," she gushed. "It'll be an inspiration for brains everywhere knowing that if they really, really try, they can be just as popular as normal people."

"Thanks," Daria said, sarcasm etching her voice. "I'll be sure to remember you when I give my speech before the Nobel committee."

To Daria's surprise, Zoe laughed. "That's a good one, Daria,. You're funny."

"Um.., whatever." Nonplussed, Daria made to excuse herself, but Zoe, smiling, blocked her. The smile seemed to Daria to take on a mocking edge, and for the first time in the conversation she felt worried rather than annoyed.

"So," Zoe asked, her voice matching her smile. "How was your night with Taylor last night?"

"What do you mean?" Sudden anxiety gripped Daria, washing all thoughts of Quinn from her mind. The rumor mill told her we went out last night. She doesn't know what happened.

"Well, I heard you had a nice time, Went a long way together."

Daria's insides turned to ice. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't be so innocent, Daria," Zoe laid on the smarm. "Taylor's an friend of mine. We go waaaaayyy back." She licked her lips, and a horrible suspicion formed in Daria's mind.

"How far back?" Daria could feel her insides turning to ice.

"Oh," Zoe said nonchalantly, "I'd say even farther than you and he went." She looked down, and buffed her nails against her blue cheerleader uniform top. "We don't do that any more, but I'm always willing to point out a prospect for him."

"A pro--" Daria tried to finish, but choked on the words, as the true meaning of Zoe's insinuations sunk in. Not only had she given herself up, but she'd done it for nothing, a little deception in the larger game--a game she'd never wanted to play. Looking into Zoe's predatory gaze, she wanted nothing more than to strike out, to hurt the other girl, but she saw no value. I won't let them see me broken. Instead, she walked away without another word, head high, back straight. There'll be time for tears later.

Zoe watched her go. She couldn't help but admire the way Daria took her humiliation in stride. She'd seen the horror and pain, for just an instant. before it was swallowed up by Daria's stoic mask. Remorse and disgust roiled her. Fine. I did what Dawn wanted. Now I feel like I need a wash.

* * *

Once upon a time, Taylor would have been more alert to the goings-on around him, alive to the changes in the atmosphere of Lawndale High brought about by shifts in the food chain. But he'd tried to put that all behind him. Being a popularity hound hadn't gotten him anything worthwhile anyway. So he found himself mostly indifferent to what was going on around him. Today, his indifference was married to a very significant preoccupation.

He feared he had screwed up very badly. Not that he regretted being with Daria--far from it--but he regretted the timing. He'd had Brooke and a couple of other girls in his popularity hound days, but he knew they only saw him as someone popular enough to snag to increase their score without damaging their credibility. He had a few good female friends--Zoe, Kelly, a couple of others--but there wasn't any spark there, not like with Daria.

The spark with Daria was immediate, and he'd let himself get carried away. That she had too was cold comfort. He could tell she wasn't ready, and truth be told, he wasn't either. He thought he was already half in love with her, and he'd decided to wait until they could share each other as a couple with a real relationship, something he'd never done before. And then my stupid hormones messed everything up. But how do I apologize without sounding like a scumbag? I want to be with her, but if I apologize, it'll look like I had her and don't need her anymore. The morning had slid by without an answer, and to top it all off, he hadn't seen Daria yet today. I hope she's not too upset to come to school.

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't see Zoe at first, or the 'O' of horror that crossed her face when she saw him. By the time she spoke, she was composed and friendly, greeting him with a smile and a hearty hello.

"Hi, Zoe," he said, absently. "How's things?"

"Okay," she shrugged. "How about you?"

"Well," he said, and paused. Maybe I can ask Zoe. I know she's mixed up with the food chain, but she's always played fair with me. "I, um," he stumbled, "I think I made a big mistake."

Zoe gave a nervous chuckle. "Oh?" Inside, her mind was seething.

"Yeah, it's about--" Before he could say what it was about, he spotted the object of the conversation across the hall. She looked very pretty in her outfit today, but also very forbidding. Sudden fear struck him, followed by resolve. "Excuse me, Zoe. I see someone I have to talk to."

Zoe's eyes followed Taylor until they saw Daria. Shit! It's time for little Zoe to be somewhere else, she thought, but she didn't move. Maybe it was morbid fascination or a need to be punished, but something kept her rooted to the spot, to see the ugly final act of the play she'd set in motion.

Taylor approached Daria with some hesitance, not reassured by the fire in her eyes. "Uh, hi, Daria. I was wondering..."

"Don't talk to me," she snapped.

Shock hit Taylor like a falling wall. "What... what do you...." He trailed off, seeing the hate in her eyes.

"You used me, Taylor. Used me," she hissed, "and ruined something that should have been wonderful. And I will never," her eyes flashed dangerously, "never forgive your for it." Before he could beg for a chance to explain himself, she stalked off. Still in shock, his eyes traveled back to Zoe, who stood, motionless, eyes alive with horror, but not surprise. Not surprise.

He advanced with sudden hate in his heart and murder on his mind. "What did you tell her, Zoe?" His voice came out unrecognizable, a low growl like that of a feral animal.

For the first time truly frightened, Zoe backed up a step. "I didn't-- I don't-- What do you mean?"

"What. Did. You. Say. To. Her." He bit off every word, like a wolf tearing at its prey's throat.

"I didn't." She paused, then deflated. "Dawn made me do it. She didn't want Daria helping Quinn."

"You! She!" Temporarily incoherent with rage, he sputtered for a moment, before whirling and punching a locker. The sharp report and the blooming pain as his hand hit the metal brought him back to himself. "This was all about Quinn? What the hell does Princess Quinn have to do with anything?"

"Dawn was planning to humiliate Quinn, and she didn't want Daria helping. You know how smart Daria is. Dawn was afraid she'd know the right thing to say." Zoe was almost in tears.

Taylor took a deep breath, letting the rage fade into a cold hate that settled in his stomach. "I know how smart she is. And I know how stupid, petty, and venal some other people are." He turned his back. "Don't talk to me, Zoe."

"But we're friends," Zoe almost wailed.

"We were friends," he said as he walked away.

For a long moment she stood there, hating herself for what she'd done. For what Dawn made me do. She'd let Dawn make her into this foul thing she was now, and she'd lost the way back. She didn't move until the bell ringing brought her back to life. She headed off to class.

* * *

The next few hours were lonely for Quinn. Aside from the occasional mockery, no one had spoken to her at all through her last few classes. In fact, in most of them she'd been condemned to empty seats all around her, as if her fellows were afraid her supposed sins were communicable. With black amusement, she noted that she was trapped in the same outer darkness of unpopular nonperson status to which she'd condemned Brooke. In fact, the one class they'd shared together had been a fiasco, since they'd both been given a wide berth, which didn't leave enough desks for the rest of the class. I don't know why I find it so funny. That's usually more Daria's thing.

Daria. That was a complicated subject, Quinn reflected, sitting in the back of math class. She knew she had no reason to blame Daria for what happened, but to a certain extent she did. After all, if Daria had kept her goddamn mouth shut, there never would have been a bet, and I wouldn't be in this mess. On the other hand, Daria was her sister, and had looked out for her on more than one occasion in the past. But if she wasn't so fucking self-righteous.... As her mind wrestled with her sister, she sent a silent prayer of thanks that a byproduct of her social exile was that she was now an unperson to teachers as well. There's no way I could pull my mind together to answer a question, not even one as simple as, "What's two plus two?"

The bell ringing came as a relief. Tired of the unearned opprobrium of her fellows, she decided to ditch Study Hall altogether and head straight for the library. Fuck Li. What can she do to me that Dawn and Skylar didn't do in spades already?

On getting to the library, she found her usual secluded cubby and tried to empty her mind. Rather than thinking things through, she wanted not to think--to let her head empty and find the clarity she would need to work her way out of the mess she found herself in. Maybe a minute passed, however, before a soft voice broke her concentration, with an "I'm sorry, Quinn."

Opening her eyes, Quinn found herself confronted by a mass of blond hair, and not much else. "Oh, it's you," she said dully, barely acknowledging Jen, as Andrea skulked in the background.

Jen swept her blond tresses back, and Quinn could see hurt in her expression. "If you'd rather I left you alone..." the blonde said, trailing off.

"No," Quinn said, sadness touching her voice. "I'm sorry, Jen. It's just that I was trying to think." With a shrug she added, "Wouldn't have worked anyway. Thanks, by the way."

Though Jen's expression was neutral, Quinn thought she sensed a softening. Perhaps Andrea had too, because she came over, and addressed Quinn in her usual gruff manner. "What now, red? Now that you've reaped what you've sown?"

Quinn noted Jen's expression of horror, but she couldn't work up any anger. It was as if all of her rage had shifted to two targets: Dawn and Skylar. Well, three, if I count Daria. I'll have to figure that out soon. To Andrea she quirked a bitter smile. "What do you think I was thinking about?"

Andrea gave her an inscrutable Andrea look that might even have held approval, while Jen essayed a supportive smile. "Well," the thinner girl said, "you're not a total outcast."

"Oh?" Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"Well, we don't care if you've had a...," Jen lowered her voice, but then decided she couldn't say the word anyway. "You know."

Quinn sighed heavily. "I didn't have a," her voice turned mocking, "you know. Skylar lied. He's hated me for over a year. I should have known not to go to him."

Jen's face contorted in horror again. Even Andrea looked guilty.

"Not your fault," Quinn said. "You only gave him to me. I asked for him, even though I knew he hated me." After a moment she added. "I let anger and desperation get the best of me."

"Is there... anything we can do?" This surprisingly from Andrea.

"Right now?" Quinn sighed again. "Ignore the scarlet 'W' that everyone else sees on me."

"Does that mean you're giving up?" Jen asked with something that might have been hope in her voice.

"Fuck no!" Quinn said, heat finally flaring. "But I need time to regroup and figure out what to do."

"So you're still playing popularity games?" This time, disappointment was clear.

"No," Quinn said firmly. "I don't want to be the top of the heap anymore. I don't need to win. But," she grated. "I don't like to lose."

* * *

Later, Daria would wonder how she ever made it through the day without going mad, but she did. Her refusal to show weakness in front of a school she now considered more hostile than ever denied her a needed release, but kept he focused. She clung to her dignity for the rest of the day, sometimes by her fingernails, speaking when spoken to, but talking to no one.

She badly wanted Jane right now for support, but she hadn't seen her all afternoon. And Daria reflected, she might have burned that bridge permanently. Well, maybe not. She did come talk to me and Jodie yesterday afternoon. She knew Jodie and Mack would look out for her, but she just couldn't bring herself to open up to them. The only other person she might have considered was Quinn, but that well was somewhat poisoned, too.

It was Quinn and her stupid fucking pride that got me into this. Well, if she were honest it wasn't only Quinn's pride--she had a measure of her own. And Quinn had tried to warn her that she was in over her head. More fool me for not listening. But even if Quinn had looked out for her over the last day or so, which Daria had to admit she had to a certain extent, Daria wasn't about to give her sister the opportunity to spout "I told you so"s over something this painful.

So instead, she strode from class to class, striving to be exactly the person she usually was and hiding how much that person was broken up inside. The last bell of the day came as a relief. She'd read that many condemned were actually eager for execution, so that the cry "Walking the mile!" became not a harbinger of doom, but of mercy. Gathering her books, she felt like she understood them.

She considered the faces of her fellows as she left: Kevin and Brittany, empty but not hurtful; other cheerleaders, Angie, confused as usual, and Nikki, looking pleased with herself; Jodie, looking stressed amd hurried; a couple of the football players, still appreciative, but not nearly as much as when she'd been slutted out; and Jen and Andrea, looking genuinely angry, instead of just unfriendly. For a brief second, her eyes met blue ones, under a thatch of blond hair, but she looked away and sped up her pace, as pain lanced through her heart. Not going there. All those faces--faces she never really considered before--now looked threatening. She wondered which ones concealed hidden agendas, and wondered how should could have been so blind to the game that ruled so many of their High School lives.

The last face she saw before she reached the school doors belonged to another cheerleader, Dawn. There was nothing hidden there. No, Dawn's face was alive with malice and glee. Someone's just pulled off a huge coup, Daria thought. Curiosity, spurred by Dawn's casual wave, warred with the desire to be gone. For a moment, Daria considered stopping, but the effort seemed too much. She was holding together by threads, and dealing with someone as devious and unpleasant as Dawn was beyond her at the moment.

The walk home was uneventful, until she reached Morgendorffer Home Base, where she found her mother's car already in the driveway. This I don't need. Well, maybe Eric had a heart attack and they gave Mom a half-day off. She pushed open the door to find her mother standing in the living room, a grim expression on her face. No such luck.

"Daria," Helen snapped in the parental tones she reserved for emergencies, "I want to know what's been going on, and I want to know now."

Daria reached for a glib answer, but for once her tongue failed her. What's been going on. What's been going on? She had no idea where to begin. The thought struck her as funny, and she began to laugh, dark bitter howls, not healing but corrosive.

Helen took a nervous step toward her. "Sweetie?" she asked, the command gone, replaced with tender solicitude. "Is something wrong?"

At her mother's soft tones, Daria came completely undone. With a wail, she threw herself in her mother's arms, hot tears streaming down her face. For a long time, Helen just held her daughter, asking nothing, and murmuring words of encouragement. Finally, the story began to spill out in fits and starts. The bet, her and Quinn's second argument, the dates, and finally the ill-fated liaison with Taylor. "I c-c-c-can't believe someone could be so c-c-callous," she said, trying to get her tears under control. "He had to know how p-p-precious I wanted it to b-b-be, and he just t-t-took it away, because some ch-ch-cheerleader told him to."

Helen stroked her daughter's hair, suddenly awash in old memories. "Oh, sweetie! The same thing happened to me." She embarked on the tale of the stunt driver, something she'd never told anyone," and soon she too was crying at the remembered shame and guilt.

When Quinn finally walked in, she took one look at her sister in her mother's arms and her anger at Daria melted away. Something awful did happen. I knew it. Wordlessly, she walked over and took her sister's hand. Daria didn't pull away, but instead looked at Quinn with grateful eyes. The three Morgendorffer women sat like that for a long time.

Saturday and Sunday

Quinn bolted from sleep, her mind and heart racing. Nightmares of exile blurred in her memory as she sat up, but her mind still whirled. Leaving thoughts of her fall from grace, her sister's heartbreak, and her desire for revenge to churn, she took a deep breath to slow her racing heart. That's right, Quinn. Let the dream fade, thought the corner of her mind not preoccupied with yesterday.

Although her heartbeat did grow more normal, she found she was still on edge, burning with the need to do something. With a rueful sigh, she thought, If only I knew what to do. Part of her wanted to visit divine retribution on Dawn and Skyler, but another part noted that she'd delivered herself to them precisely because she'd wanted to visit divine retribution on Brooke. She needed a strategy. And a goal for that matter. I told Daria to decide what she wanted out of the new order, and now I don't know. Overcome with the need to move, she almost raced to the bathroom.

On her way out, she sped past Daria. She didn't give herself much time to consider her sister, but the little she saw bothered her. Daria's eyes, usually so observant, were vague and sleepy. Maybe it's because she just got up. I'll check in on her later. Downstairs she found her mother. Helen regarded her curiously. She's surprised I'm awake. Well, so am I.

"Hi, Mom," she said, faking good cheer.

"Quinn?" Helen made a question of her name.

"Just, y'know, up and about," Quinn said, trying to steer the conversation.

Helen was not to be denied. "Daria had a very difficult week at school."

"I know," Quinn said, "I'll try to look out for her for awhile."

"That's very nice of you," Helen smiled, "but that's not what I wanted to know. You went through a very big change this week, too. IS there anything you need to talk about?"

At the concern in her mother's voice, Quinn almost gave in totally, but she wasn't ready for this conversation. "Not right now, Mom," she said.

Helen considered her for a long moment before conceding. "All right. I'll trust you for now, but if there is something," genuine pleading touched her voice, "please tell me before I find out from somewhere else."

Quinn nodded slowly. "I will, mom." She was surprised to find she meant it.

* * *

For the second day in a row, Daria swam slowly toward consciousness. A pleasant haze lay over her dreams, one which she was reluctant to dissipate. Safe and warm in the cocoon of her blankets, she felt far from yesterday's turmoil. When she acknowledged her consciousness, she was surprised to find that the distance remained. Her inner landscape was calm and quiet, her rage and misery a distant rumble.

To her surprise, and slight worry, this static calm continued as she began her morning. She knew there were things to resolve, so even though she could have happily stayed under the covers with a good book--or several--she dragged herself out of bed and began to ready herself for the day. As she made her way to the bathroom a red blur of nervous energy tore past her. Daria gave her sister's wake a fond smile. That was a nice thing Quinn did last night, she thought vaguely, her mind still slow with sleepiness.

After washing and dressing, she came downstairs to find her mother in the kitchen with a full pan of bacon sizzling. Smells good, she thought, her mind clearing. I hope Mom's not going to try to wrap me in maternal cotton because I'm so fragile. I don't think I could take that. Much to her relief, Helen merely said, "Morning sweetie. Breakfast will be ready in about ten minutes, and the paper's on the coffee table if you want it."

"Thanks, Mom," Daria said, trying to put multiple meanings in her voice before ambling into the living room to find the paper.

* * *

Breakfast was a surprisingly quiet affair. Helen didn't press either of her daughters, and none of the three mentioned last night. Jake, clueless as usual, ate with gusto. Afterwards, Quinn and her sister cleaned up, a little uncomfortable, but no longer as divided. They gave each other quiet smiles and retreated to their separate rooms to think.

Quinn had just thrown herself on the bed when the phone rang. Although her altered social status would certainly have affected the quanity of phone calls, reflex had her grabbing her receiver before she thought of it. "Hello," she trilled, even as the reality of her new lack of social status crashed down on her.

"Quinn," Sandi's voice on the other end of the line was less a greeting than an accusation.

"Hi, Sandi!" Quinn mustered as much false cheer as she could. This isn't going to be pretty.

It wasn't. "Well done," Quinn could almost hear the sneer. "Not only have you self-destructed, you've taken us down with you."

"I know," Quinn said. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize Skylar would play that dirty or that he'd hook up with Dawn."

"Well, you should have," Sandi snapped. "And thanks to you, we're stuck under the cheerleaders, probably for the rest of high school!"

She much have gone on for longer, with Quinn's one-word interruption. "No."

"What did you say?!" Sandi didn't even bother to hide the anger and shock in her voice.

"I said no," Quinn's voice was calm even as remembered rage churned her stomach. "You're stuck under the cheerleaders. I'm a pariah. I'll be wearing the scarlet letter from now until graduation, unless I do something about it." She let her voice trail into an invitation.

Sandi's perception far outstripped her reception. "No. I followed you to ruin, and I'm not making the same mistake twice."

I shouldn't be surprised. The thought covered the sudden shock of betrayal Quinn felt. She shifted the conversation to a more mercenary footing. "What do you want?"

"What?!"

"I don't stutter, Sandi. What do you want in return for your help?"

"Like last time?" Sandi's voice was mocking. "I don't think so, Quinn. I'm done with you. You're not a threat anymore, and I'm not going to put you back into position to be one. So I suggest, that you forget this number, because if I hear from you again, I'm hanging up." To Quinn's incredulous silence, she added. "Enjoy your new place in the pecking order." A click and the dialtone followed.

Bitch. For a long time, that was Quinn's only thought.

* * *

The listlessness Daria felt was different than her normal apathy. She knew this was one of the signs of incipient depression, but decided to allow herself one more day of self-pity before taking action. Thus, she retreated to the padded cell after breakfast and thumbed listlessly through books she'd already read. I'm gonna need to have this room redone or not spend time here if I want to avoid a bout of depression. The incongrous though made her smile slightly imagining her mother's reaction. Helen would be over the moon.

The dim echo of the phone's ring dispelled this little amusement. She ignored it, just as before, assuming it was for Quinn. Her sister's red head popping around her door a moment later disabused her of this. "It's Jane," Quinn said, offering the phone. Daria regarded her sister with curiousity. Her face seemed harder than it had since breakfast, much less since last week. This bears observation, she thought, taking the phone. Maybe I'd better suspend playtime early.

"Hello," she said, as Quinn retreated to give her privacy. Sudden trepidation gripped her.

She needn't have worried. "Hey, amiga," Jane's voice greeted her. "Just thought I'd check in on you."

"Shouldn't that be the other way around?" Daria lips quirked into a smile. "You're the one who sleeps the sleep of the dead on weekends. I'm usually up by 2 PM."

"Yeah, well, I figured as long as I was up early today." Jane's tone was flippant, but Daria could hear the real concern behind it.

"I'm fine, Jane. Really," she added, before Jane could protest. She hoped that Jane wouldn't bring up the cause of the concern and was grateful when Jane didn't.

"Well, you know if you need someone...."

"You don't have to...," Daria said softly. "After all," she added in a more normal voice, "I hear you have alot on your plate what with your new boyfriend."

"Heard that?" Jane asked.

"I spent the last week a little more plugged in than usual." And got myself a sharp shock for my trouble.

"Yeah, well," Jane said. "I won't let it come between us."

"Let's try that the other way," Daria said. "I won't come between you two. I've been a bitch about your relationships before, and I don't want to do it again."

"Daria!" Jane protested.

"It's the truth," Daria said. "I value your friendship, and that means I have to allow you to have your own life." Before Jane could protest, she added, "But that doesn't mean we can't meet for pizza after practice on Monday."

A nervous moment passed, before Daria heard a cheerful, "You're on." The two friends chatted amiably for a few more minutes before hanging up. Daria's own problems rushed back to her. Whatever I have to do, I'll make sure Jane doesn't get pulled into it.

* * *

Given the look on Quinn's face and her conversation with Jane, Daria decided that her pity party would have to wait. Her newfound energy needed a direction and the logical one was toward Quinn. After all, I'm not the only one who needs to decide what to do. Her purposeful stride out the door and down the hall was interrupted by Quinn coming in the other direction. The sisters' eyes met.

"We need to talk," they said simultaneously. Tension crackled, until Daria laughed. For a moment, Quinn bristled, but she visibly relaxed when she realized Daria wasn't laughing at her. "I suppose it is pretty funny."

"What is?" Daria asked, unable to resist testing and tweaking her little sister.

"We go years without going near each others' rooms," Quinn said, "and then we both do it at the same time."

"Down to the words." Daria laughed again. "You're right. It is pretty funny."

"Did I pass the test?" Quinn asked, taking her turn to needle her sister.

"Sorry," Daria said solemnly. "I can't hand out grades until after class." Wryly, she added, "We should probably pick a room. Unless you want to have this chat in the hallway."

"I feel like we there should be some big negotiation." Quinn smiled. "You know, for like a peace conference. We can pick a neutral site and get Mom to arbitrate."

Daria shuddered at the thought. "Let's just keep it simple. Your room or mine?"

"Yours. There's places to sit. Every surface in mine is covered in crap--stuffed animals, clothes, or copies of Waif."

"Sure thing sis. After you."

Daria followed Quinn into the padded room. When Quinn took a seat on the bed, Daria grabbed her desk chair and rolled it over next to her sister. "So," she said. Now that she had Quinn, she wasn't sure what to say. "You, uh, seemed pretty pissed the last time I talked to you."

"Oh," Quinn said, schooling her voice to indifference. Daria's monotone makes a wonderful model. "I just talked to Sandi. She told me not to speak to her again. A wry smile not unlike her sister's crossed her face, "Apparently, she blames me for what happened."

Sudden anger blazed in Daria, "Nice to see your friends standing up for you?" At Quinn's stricken expression, she changed her tone. "I'm sorry. It's just that I've always thought Sandi was a backstabbing bitch. I just wish the evidence wasn't so clear."

"I'll bet Jane didn't abandon you," Quinn said, more than a trace of bitterness in her voice.

"No," Daria said slowly, "but there's a different issue there. Thinks are looking up for her. She's back on the track team and starting things again with Evan."

"And where does that leave Daria?" Quinn asked pointedly. "You took it pretty hard last time."

"Understatement of the century, Quinn. I was a stone bitch about it, and I don't want to be again. I think Jane is really happy on the track team, and with Evan. And even if I instinctively don't like him, well," her face closed down, "my instincts haven't been very good lately."

"Mine either," Quinn said, commiserating. "So what are we going to do?"

"We?" Daria raised an eyebrow. "That's novel."

Quinn shrugged, undisturbed. "I lost my best ally, and you have an ally you won't use. It makes sense for us to work together."

"On what?" Daria asked pointedly. "Are you so sure I want to work on anything?"

"No," Quinn said. "That's why I asked. Nothing is a valid answer, you know." Even with all that happened over the last week, even after everything had fallen apart on her, being a master manipulator was still part of Quinn. If she doesn't want revenge, she'll jump my way just to see what I'm up to, she thought, and then felt guilty. This is my sister, not a rival at school. This is my sister and she's vulnerable. She still couldn't help feeling a small thrill of elation when Daria whispered, "No. Nothing is not a valid answer."

"So, what do you want to do then?"

Daria covered her moment of openness well. "I think the better question, sis," she said with her usual cutting tone, "is what do you want to do? You have way more to lose than I do."

"Are you so sure about that?" Quinn asked. "My social status is 'leper,' Daria. What do I have to lose that you don't?"

"Your virginity for one thing," Daria said with a humorless smile.

"Point." Quinn said, matter-of-factly, then added in a much softer tone. "I'm sorry, Daria. I'd fix it if I could."

"Yeah, well, it's not your fault." Daria sighed and leaned back in the chair. "Part of me wants to kill Taylor, to make him writhe in pain, but another part of me...." She struggled to find words, before giving up with a shrug. "Now, Zoe I could cheerfully strangle."

"Wait," Quinn said, suddenly intent. "What does Zoe have to do with it?"

"Zoe's the one who pointed Taylor at me." Bitterness etched Daria's voice. "She used me as a ploy, and he went along with it."

"Just like Dawn used Skylar to get at me," Quinn said. And I used Tori to get at Brooke, her mind echoed. I'm not a very nice person, am I? Putting self-recrimination aside, she continued. "But Zoe's one of the cheerleaders and they're the ones who won."

"What are you saying?"

"That things may not be as straightforward as you think. Dawn's at the back of this, but that doesn't mean we know who was really at the front."

Sudden hope rose in Daria, but she squashed it. I can't deal with this right now. "Which brings us back to the original question," she said, steepling her fingers, "What do you want to do?"

"I want to crush Dawn," Quinn said, teeth suddenly clenching with hate.

"Why?" Daria asked mildly. Just because she chose not to interact, didn't mean Daria couldn't read people, and she'd had a lifetime to study Quinn. This should be interesting.

It was. "I...," Quinn started to say. A long pause followed, then with a frustrated wail, Quinn let go. "I don't know. Daria, I don't know. I mean part of it's just revenge. That bitch lied about me to tear me down, and I want to make her hurt, just like you want to hurt Zoe. And she used Zoe to hurt you, which makes me hate them even more, but I did the same things to Brooke that Dawn did to me, and the only difference is that what I used was the truth. I never thought about what I did before, but I never had to do anything as awful before, and I don't think I want to be that person. I told Jen that I was done with popularity games, but popularity has been who I am for so long that I don't know what I'll do if I'm not popular anymore."

Daria threw herself in front of the verbal train. "You could always hang out with the brains."

Quinn's racing mind jumped the tracks, and for a second, she was her old self. "Ha ha, Daria. Actually," she mused, "that's probably not such a bad idea. I'm out of the Fashion Club, and and without that, I don't really have much in common with my so-called friends. Can you imagine," she said, a plaintive note in her voice, "trying to discussing anything more complicated that the weather with Tiffany?"

"I can't even imagine trying to discuss the weather with Tiffany," Daria said. "I don't have the patience to spend an hour explaining the concept of rain." Quinn laughed, and Daria continued. "But that's for later. For now, we have to decide what to do. We could just turn the other cheek and wash our hands of the whole business."

Quinn noted the change in pronoun with pleased approval. A sister I can count on. And she no more wants to turn the other cheek.... I'll bet she only said that prompt the answer she wants to hear. Friendly malice filled her mind. Time to upset the apple cart, and show her how the game is played. "Yeah, I think we should."

"Well, in that case-- You what?!" Daria sat in slack-jawed amazement.

"I want to turn the other cheek for now," Quinn said. "We have no tools besides each other. And you've always been an outcast, while right now, I'm a social leper. Waiting gives us three advantages."

"Which are?" Daria was clearly intrigued.

"One," Quinn leaned back against the wall as she ticked off points on her fingers, "We lull Dawn into a false sense of security. Two, we give her time to make more enemies. And three, we see who is on our side, so we have support to take her down."

"Very good, Quinn," Daria said, voice admiring. "I like the way you think on different levels. But won't waiting just freeze your image as the school whore?"

"Let them think what they want," Quinn said, deadly serious. "This is about revenge, Daria. And maybe, just maybe, about making high school a little more bearable for everyone.

Wow, Daria thought, eyes alive again, watching for Quinn's nuances. She's really passionate about this. I wonder what she's not telling me. "Okay," she said. "I'll follow your lead, Quinn. But how will we know when to move?" Maybe she'll trust me enough to tell me before I find out.

"We'll know. Trust me, Daria," Quinn's words unconsciously mirrored Daria's thoughts. "We'll know."

* * *

"You going to tell Mom?" Daria asked the next morning. She presented a curious sight, sprawled across the bed on her stomach with her head peering over the edge of the bed.

The object of this question lay face up on her sister's floor. Ignoring Daria, Quinn continued to stare at the ceiling.

"You know she'll find out," Daria continued, eyes on the redhead. "If nothing else, Sandi's bitch mother will call to 'offer her support.'" Her voice twisted with bitterness.

"Oh, that'll be a fun conversation," Quinn grimaced up at Daria. "Hey, mom. There's a rumor going around that I aborted Skylar Feldman's baby, but don't worry. It's not true. See you later!"

"Better the truth," Daria said. "And better from you than from Linda Griffin." A sudden horrible though struck her. "Imagine if Dad answers the phone. He'll have a heart attack for sure. You know he's a ticking time bomb."

Quinn sighed as the realization hit. "You're right, of course. I can't do that to Dad, or to Mom either." She gave her sister a crafty look before adding, "You have to be there, though."

"Why?"

"Come on, Daria. Do you think they're going to believe just me?" Quinn put on her most ingenuous look. "Of course you should, like, totally believe me. After all, I've never lied to you before."

"Point," Daria said. "Dad might buy that. Mom won't. So you want me to corroborate."

Quinn nodded. "You know me. Mom knows you know me, even if you pretend not to. And Mom knows you have no reason to lie to her. She might not like what she hears, but she'll take it better with you there."

"Okay," Daria conceded. "When should we do it?"

"No time like the present."

* * *

"...so that's the whole story, Mom." Quinn finished. She and Daria were seated on the couch, while Helen paced back and forth.

"Let me get this straight," Helen said. "You're telling me there's a boy you didn't have sex with telling people at school that he got you pregnant and you had an abortion. And this, along with Daria's problem, is all part of some plot to make the cheerleaders more popular."

"Um, yeah," Quinn said, puzzled.

Helen gave her younger daughter a searching look. "It's a little much to swallow, Quinn." After a moment, she turned to regard Daria. "What's your opinion on all this?"

"It's the truth, Mom." Daria said flatly. "As hard as it may be to believe, the kids at Lawndale High really do act like the characters from I, Claudius. And Quinn's never gotten pregnant. If she had," Daria smirked, "she'd have carried it to term and started a new religion." Quinn shot her a dirty look.

"So you're saying...." Helen trailed off.

"Mom, until Thursday, I'd have bet half my cabin fund that both your daughters would be virgins on Graduation Day." A trace of bitterness came through in Daria's flippant tone. "Now I'll just have to bet the whole thing on Quinn."

Silence fell as Helen digested what she'd learned. Looking between her daughter's faces, she caught a sense of something odd. Daria's observant enough, and interested enough even if she denies it, to know what's going on with Quinn, and I don't think she'd lie to me. I suppose they could have teamed up to lie to me, but there's nothing in it for Daria. And this is a pretty bizarre story. Well, I'll just have to take it at face value, unless other information crosses my path. "So what are you going to do about it?"

She chuckled inwardly, as her girls turned identical innocent looks at her. They'd hate to hear me say it, but deep down, they're so much alike. "What do you mean?" the girls chorused.

"Come on," she said, hiding a smile. "You must have something planned?"

"I'm not doing anything," Quinn said.

"And I'm hoping that 'you' is singular," Daria added.

Yeah, right. "Alright, girls," Helen said in her best parental voice. "I'll trust you to know that revenge is wrong." And I'll keep an eye on you, since I know neither of you will care.

"Thanks, Mom," Quinn said, while Daria just nodded.

The two girls disappeared in different directions, and Helen turned her mind to more important matters. How do I keep Jake from exploding when he hears this? Maybe I'll just hide it from him.

Monday Next

Almost surprisingly, Lawndale High School looked exactly the same on Monday morning--same dull hall colors, same cracked faculty, same blue and yellow bunting. But it seemed to Dawn that everyone could tell just how much had changed in the last week. For one thing, she noted with a smile the way the halls parted for her and the other cheerleaders--the way they used to part for Quinn and Sandi.

Oh, I am going to enjoy today, she thought and let a vindictive chuckle escape her lips. After all, there was power to consolidate, old rivals to humble, new lackeys falling under her sway. She closed her locker with a satisfying thump and waited for the fun to begin.

Zoe was not fun. "You seem preoccupied," noted Dawn, as Zoe joined her en route to class.

"Just thinking," Zoe said quickly.

"Well, don't," Dawn gave her a wicked smile. "Just enjoy the moment. We won! And there is a small side benefit." She gestured toward Daria Morgendorffer, back in her geek uniform--green coat, mismatched skirt, black boots. Sensing eyes on her, Daria bowed her head and hurried off. "That'll teach the outcasts to get above their place," Dawn added with satisfaction.

"Yeah, that'll teach 'em," Zoe added, somewhat halfheartedly.

"You don't seem like yourself, Zoe." Could it be she's having a little moral crisis? I'd better keep my eye on her.

"I'm fine, Dawn," Zoe said. "Just tired. I had a long weekend at home. You know how it goes."

"Yeah," Dawn said. "I know how it goes. We'd better get to class." The two girls hurried off.

* * *

Quinn also noted the change, though with less evident pleasure that Dawn. The hostile, and occasional pitying, looks she could deal with, but having to chase three different people off her locker before third period was downright annoying. The third, Tiffany's friend Kelly, had been downright rude.

"Why should I move? You're not in control of me." Her smirk was vicious. "You're not in charge of anything any more."

"I'll tell you why you should move," Quinn growled. "Because I have nothing to lose, and you'll find it really hard to get dates with a black eye." Resorting to physical threats so early in the day wasn't a good sign, she know. But damn! That feels good, she thought as Kelly fled down the corridor. And besides, a violent Quinn is a beaten Quinn. Anything to make Dawn think I've given up.

As she opened her locker, a piece of paper caught her eye. She palmed it carefully, and unfolded it under cover of digging out her textbooks. Three words, in Daria's neat hand greeted her eye. Seen. Eyes Down. She gave a satisfied nod. We'll wait and see if Daria's little performance went off without a hitch.

Daria had asked her before school this morning why the cloak and dagger stuff was necessary if they were lulling Dawn into a false sense of security. "Table setting," she'd replied, amused once again by her sister's blind spots. Daria was undeniably brilliant in her way, but it was staggering how much she chose not to know. "Even if we don't move for a month or two, which seems likely, we need to make sure Dawn is thinking like we want her to think. Once we hook her, her own mind will fill in what she expects to see, but we have to create that expectation."

Pocketing her note, she closed her locker and turned to go. She wondered briefly if Sandi had already surrendered to Dawn. If not, it's just a matter of time.

* * *

In fact, Sandi was pleading her case to Dawn at that very moment. As an added piece of artistry, Dawn was making her do it in the very bathroom that had been the center of Fashion Club power for over a year.

When Sandi approached her after second period, Dawn had merely said, "Walk with me," without even sparing Sandi a glance. The involuntary gasp when Sandi realized where she was being led was one of the many little rewards Dawn was arranging for herself today.

The conversation in the bathroom was unusually blunt. Facing not Sandi but the mirror, Dawn said, "What do you want?"

Sandi, behind Dawn, was still able to see her own reflection when she blinked. "What do I want?"

Dawn merely waited.

"Fine," said Sandi. "I want to keep the Fashion Club. I want to stay on the top of the heap, and I want a more trustworth lieutenant than Quinn and better lackeys than Stacy and Tiffany."

Dawn nodded. "And that's why you have to ask for it. Now," she said, expression hardening, "let me tell you what you're going to get. You can keep the Fashion Club, but you're not in charge any more. There'll be a list of second tier boys made available for you to date, and public displays of inferiority will be kept to a minimum."

"That doesn't sound like much to me." Sandi asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's the alternative?"

"The alternative," Dawn said flatly, "is to be cast out of heaven to join Quinn in the abyss. You lost; I won. I acknowledge that you can be useful, so I'm offering you a place, but you have nothing to bargain with, Sandi. I can get along fine without you."

Seeing the blaze of Dawn's eyes in reflection, Sandi capitulated. "I accept. What about Stacy and Tiffany?"

"They're still yours," Dawn said with a negligent flip of her hand. "But you're responsible for them, Sandi. If they screw up, it reflects on you." The fire in her eyes was banked, not extinguished.

"Understood," Sandi nodded, and turned to go.

"A word of advice," Dawn said, over her shoulder. "Ditch Stacy. She'll always be Quinn's. That gossipy friend of Tiffany's, Kelly, will be much more useful." She laughed as Sandi left the bathroom without a word.

* * *

Lunch, for Quinn, was dismal but enlightening. Exiled to the far corner of the lunch room, where not even the Chess Club would bother with her, she would have headed for the roof if not for her need to observe. True, she couldn't hear much over here, except for the occasional splash of milk shot through someone's nose, but she could see the whole lunchroom, observing body language and, where possible, facial expressions.

Dawn held court at the popular table, in the spot once reserved for Sandi, who slumped, disconsolate, at the edge of the crowd of cheerleaders and football players, an indifferent Tiffany opposite her. Well, Sandi's surrender has been accomplished. I wonder where Stacy is, though. The cheerleaders themselves, and their football player hangers-on, were clearly in high spirits, as a welter of noise from the table could be heard over the general din of the lunchroom. Oddly, Zoe's blond hair was all that was visible of her. Maybe she's not so thrilled with Dawn's win, Quinn thought.

As she watched, Tiffany's gossipy friend Kelly approached Sandi. Her body language spoke challenge, but Sandi, rather than responding, shot a look toward Dawn. Quinn couldn't make out Dawn's reaction--whether words or just a look--but the outcome was clear, as Kelly slid into the seat next to Tiffany. Weirder and weirder, Quinn thought. And where the hell is Stacy?

Her eyes scanned the lunchroom for any sign of brown pigtails, but it was a long moment before she saw them, draped across the arms of Stacy, who was facedown at a nearby table. Having spotted her, Quinn trained her ear and was sure she could make out what could only be Stacy weeping. That answers everything, she thought, even as she half-stood. Sandi kicked her out and replaced her with Kelly. She was suddenly glad, terribly glad, that Sandi had turned her offer down.

Her need to comfort Stacy was balanced by her need to remain outcast. She wanted to be seen to have no allies, and helping Stacy might compromise that. On the other hand, if I ignore her, that makes me as big a bitch as Sandi. Caught by indecision, she stood still long enough for Stacy to look up and shoot her a venomous stare. Well, she sighed. That answers that. I just wish someone could go and talk to Stacy. It's too bad Daria's mixed up in this or she could do it.

The answer to her dilemma appeared when Jodie Landon slid into the seat opposite her, a concerned expression on her face. "How are you, Quinn?"

"Fine," Quinn said, lost in though. Jodie was one of the neutrals in the popularity game, as she was one of the students involved in the actual work of keeping the school running. Mack filled the same role for athletics. As long as they made no overt moves, they were strictly off limits, enforceable by the wrath of Ms. Li's, and possibly Jodie's parents, and even the NAACP. From things Daria had said, Quinn gleaned that this made Jodie uncomfortable, but it also put her in a unique position.

"Really?" Jodie asked. "After all, some pretty nasty rumors have been going around. I know I wouldn't be fine if people were saying things like that about me."

That's because no one would say things like that about you. Not if they wanted to keep their heads. "Seriously," Quinn said. "I know they're not true, so I'm not to worried."

Jodie gave her a searching look. Plainly she didn't believe a word of it.

"Not that I mind," Quinn asked, "But why are you so worried about me? I'm not the nicest person in the school and I've never had the time of day for student government."

"True," Jodie said, choosing not to take offense. "But you're Daria's sister, so you can't be all bad. And I don't like to see things like what happened to you."

Quinn nodded, part of her mind looking for ways to use this information, part of her mind disgusted at the idea of manipulating an honest offer of aid. This is one fucked up system we've got right here. I should have realized it before. "I'm fine, Jodie," she said. "I'm tough. But if you really want to help someone," she turned her head toward the pair of pigtails, "Stacy could use some cheering up. I think Sandi kicked her out of the Fashion Club."

Seeing Stacy's condition, Jodie's eyes went wide. "She's really in a bad way, isn't she? I know the Club was her whole identity. And you say Sandi kicked her out?"

"I don't know for sure, since I've been persona non grata since Friday," Quinn grimaced, "but that's what it looks like to me."

Jodie nodded. "To me too. I'm going to go and talk to her." Giving Quinn a final look, she asked, "Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?"

"One thing," A half-smile formed on Quinn's lips. "Don't tell her I sent you. I think she's mad at me, too." Her eyes drifted back to the center table. And if you don't tell Stacy, there's less chance Dawn will find out.

Jodie nodded and Quinn watched as the dark-skinned girl made her way to the fair. After a couple of minutes, Stacy looked up. Quinn wasn't sure from her distance, but it seemed Stacy's eyes were dry as she and Jodie left the lunchroom.

* * *

Having dealt with Sandi, Dawn was free to move on to the other goals for the day. The Clubbies and the cheerleaders were the top of the heap and their hangers-on had already responded to the changes, but there were semi-popular groups who needed to be taken in hand. This wasn't something that could be done today, but she'd entertained herself by throwing a little weight around.

Particularly amusing had been having Zoe spread the word to the Drama Club types. She hadn't seemed very enthusiastic about it, but then that was part of the point. Angie, Nikki, and the other cheerleaders were all basking in reflected glory. The only ones who weren't were Brittany, who was oblivious, and Zoe. And if Zoe wasn't going to enjoy the jobs Dawn was going to give her, well, Dawn would make her do them anyway. and enjoy them twice as much because Zoe was suffering.

She'd taken the time herself to check out some of the less popular sports teams. A talk with the track team provided intriguing, if not entirely satisfactory. Jane Lane, a side effect of last week--and not one she'd planned, which disturbed her--ignored her outright, having eyes only for lanky runner-boy Evan. He, in turn, paid far more attention to Jane than Dawn, though the rest of the team seemed receptive. Evan used to be more malleable. Maybe some oppo would come in handy. I'll bet he nailed at least one of the cheerleaders before hooking up with arty-farty Jane Lane.

Her chats with the lacrosse and volleyball teams had been much more satisfying. She enjoyed dropping oblique hints and harvesting information. After all, information was power, and she intended to hold on to that power until Graduation Day.

But now the end of the day had come, and with it a special pleasure she'd been saving for herself all day. The cherry on top, she thought, and then smiled. How appropriate, she mentally added as she made a beeline for a certain locker and a bright red mop of bouncy hair.

* * *

How predictable, Quinn thought, as she saw Dawn out of the corner of her eye. The cheerleader made her way nonchalantly down the hall, but it was clear she had a destination in mind. I can't believe I lost to her. She's like a third-rate Bond villain. Quinn kept her thoughts to herself and her head down, looking only at her locker, or so it seemed. Five, four, three, two....

"Oh hi, Quinn!" Dawn trilled in her best faux friendly voice.

Right on schedule, Quinn thought, and didn't look up.

"Is something the matter, dear?" Dawn asked, as Quinn remained silent. "I know you're fragile right now, so I wanted to check up on you."

"No, no," Quinn gritted, still not looking up. "I'm fine." Just enough. If I don't sound angry, she'll know I'm up to something, but if I sound too angry, she'll know to be afraid of me.

The look of concern on Dawn's face might have been almost believable except for the smug smile that kept threatening to overwhelm it. "Are you sure? You're not looking so well. I think your hair's lost some of its bounce."

And I think your ass has gained some lard, bitch. "No, no. Really," Quinn said, voice heavy. "I'm fine. You know, everyone needs a change."

"And such a sudden change, too," Dawn purred, all pretense gone. "From top off the food chain to burrowing for worms in one week." Quinn made sure to crumble a little as Dawn added, "That might just be a record."

"Well, you know," Quinn said, trying to fake an obviously fake arch tone leavened with misery. "All that popularly stuff, it's not all it's cracked up to be. I mean, think of all the free time I'll have, now that I don't have to keep up with trends." Her artificial laugh was pathetic. And I thought my usual acts were tough. This is giving me a headache.

"Oh, yes," Dawn nodded. "Trips to the library; time to study. You could learn chess; maybe collect butterflies or stamps." She leaned close to Quinn's ear, breathing the next words with an almost sexual pleasure. "Fantasizing about all the dates you'll never go on again, all the boys whose skin you'll never touch."

Quinn didn't even have to fake a shudder as she finally turned to face Dawn.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy the next two years, Quinn," Dawn said, almost nose to nose with Quinn. "I'm going to enjoy keeping you down, the way you kept us down--keeping all the boys on a string, never letting us get a sniff. You're done, Quinn. It's over."

Quinn let Dawn's eyes hold her for a moment before she looked down, the picture of defeat. Inside, rage roiled. Over? That's what you think, bitch.

End Part I

Author's Note:

The original inspiration for this story was an Iron Chef proposed on the PPMB by Ranger Thorne. I'd like thank him for the inspiration and a bunch of other folks on PPMB (including but not limited to Brother Grimace, TAG, smk, and cyde) whose enthusiasm helped transform what was going to be a couple of throwaway scenes into the novella-length vortex that the story became. I'd also like to acknowledge the webcomic Penny and Aggie (which I started reading around the time I started the story and which gave me a pretty good model for just how vicious teen politics can become.

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