Part 2
16
September 1997
Daria was annoyed at the Self Esteem Class
already. The teacher was droning on, espousing New Age crap: “Esteem... a teen.
They don't really rhyme, do they? The sounds don't quite mesh. And that, in
fact, is often the case when it comes to a teen and esteem. The two just don't
seem to go together. But we are here to begin realizing your actuality...”
‘That makes no sense! ‘Realizing your
actuality’?’ She thought. She raised her hand. “Excuse me. I have a question.”
“Sorry, question and answer time is later.”
“I want to know what ‘realizing your
actuality’ means.”
“It means... look, just let me get through
this part, okay? Then there'll be a video!”
‘That’s annoying!’ Daria thought. She
began writing that the teacher didn’t know what he was doing, but she was
interrupted.
A girl seated behind her with chin-length
hair, three piercings in her ears and wearing a paint splattered red jacket
over a dark grey outfit leaned forward and said; “He doesn't know what it
means. He's got the speech memorized. Just enjoy the nice man's soothing voice.”
Daria turned around. “How am I supposed to
follow him if I don't know what he's talking about?”
“I can fill you in later. I've taken this
course six times.”
Quinn approached a large house. “Here it
is, 512 Grandstaff Drive.” She went up and rang the doorbell.
The door was opened by a young boy with
brown hair. “Hi!” he said.
“Hello, this is the Griffin’s right?”
“That’s right,” the boy answered.
“I’m Quinn. Is Sandi here?”
“I’m Sam. Sandi is in her room with Stacy
and Tiffany. Up the stairs and in the room to the left.”
Quinn flounced in, quickly taking in how
the Griffin’s living room appeared. (She didn’t notice as much as Daria would
have, but there were times in Highland that she had noticed something that
Daria had missed.)
Stacy waited nervously for Quinn to
arrive. “She’s late!” Sandi said, looking at the clock on her computer screen.
“She is probably taking her time trying to
find the house,” Stacy said.
Sandi used her glare of disapproval on
her.
“Eep!”
However then, there was a knock on the
door. “Hello?” It was Quinn.
:
“Come in, we’re, like, just about to
start,” Sandi said.
“That’s great!” Quinn said.
Daria was walking with her new friend,
Jane Lane. As they entered a Lawndale neighbourhood that appeared to date from
the turn of the century Jane said, “So, then, after the role-playing, next
class they put the girls and the guys in separate rooms and a female counselor
talks to us about body image.”
“A classroom full of guys and a male
teacher?”
It didn’t take a genius to guess, “Nocturnal
emissions.”
“I don't get it, Jane. You've got the
entire course memorized. How come you can't pass the test to get out?”
“I could pass the test, but I like having
low self-esteem. It makes me feel special.”
Half an hour later, Daria relaxed as she
and Jane recovered from their success at stopping a bank from foreclosing on
the Lane’s. “So your parents, when did you last see them?” Daria asked.
“Let’s see, Mom a few weeks ago. She
stayed for a couple of days. Dad at the beginning of summer. He just stayed
overnight,” Jane said. She saw Daria’s concern. “Don’t worry, Trent and I can
look after ourselves.”
Daria looked around at the rather untidy
house and Jane’s lean figure. ‘The house needs attention, but she looks well
nourished.’ She decided to change the topic. “So you said that you’re an
artist?”
“Yes, but what is with the third degree,
Daria?”
“Force of habit.”
“Habit?” Jane asked with a slightly
worried tone.
“I find mysteries and I solve them. I have
done so since I was seven or eight. I surprised some detectives, one of whom
offered to help me hone my skills. I have lost count of the mysteries that I
have solved.”
“Cool,” Jane said.
“For instance, yesterday I noticed
something ‘off’ about the school,” Daria said. She told Jane her observations
about the school, including the cameras, the advertising for the football team
and her suspicions about Mrs. Manson. “...as I told my sister, Lawndale may not
be an ordinary suburb.”
“I agree, they are obsessed about football
here,” Jane said in response.
“That explains that, but I have a feeling
that there is more to it.”
“You know, there are a lot of odd
occurrences at the school. Maybe you could explain them.”
“Tomorrow, I will spend more time among
the other students,” Daria decided.
“Maybe I could help you, the Watson to
your Holmes, if you like.”
“It would involve extracurricular
activity. I intend to form a Mystery Club.”
“Jane Lane, artist extraordinaire, and
Mystery Club Vice President. Sounds Good.”
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