A New Kid's Dance Party While A Tree Grows - Part 2

 

A New Kid’s Dance Party While a Tree Grows Part 2

Annoyed at the garbage spilled all over the driveway, Jake stopped re-entering the house on account of his wife still being on the phone with her sister.

 

 

“Honestly, Rita, I don't care if Mother's paying for your new family room.”

 

“Maybe she can get a new family to go with it.”

 

“What? ... That was Daria. She's, uh, practicing for a school play.”

 

“A salesman's got to dream, boy,” Daria continued.

 

Jake chose that moment to re-enter the kitchen. “Damn neighbor's dog got into the trash again! Now there's garbage all over the street! Next thing you know there'll be abandoned cars on the front lawns!”

 

“I'll run out and pick up some cement blocks before they're all sold out,” Daria said.

 

“Jake, calm down.” Helen turned her attention back to Rita. “Rita, I'll have to call you back. ... Yes, I will! ... Very, very soon.” She hung up.

 

“Helen, do you know what happens when property values collapse?”

 

“Is it anything like when good pets go bad?” Daria asked.

 

“What if we can't get a decent price when we sell this place? You think we're going to move in with your sister?”

 

“Or should I also pick up a copy of the Jonestown bartender's handbook?” Daria snarked.

 

Helen was annoyed at both of them. “Oh...!”

 

Jake popped open a soda, which sprayed all over him. “Yaaa-ah!”

 

“Jake, you're being ridiculous. Nothing is going to affect the value of this house short of an earthquake.”

 

“We're on a fault line, too?!”

 

 

While Jake was panicking about property values, Quinn was having a crisis of her own. Sandi was attempting to sabotage the Dance Committee meeting by making silly suggestions... “I think we should decorate the gym like the inside of the Concorde.”

 

“Um, it's a cute idea and everything, but I'm not sure there would be much room to dance, and...”

 

Sandi interrupted her. “Gee, Quinn, if you're not going to listen to ideas from your own dance committee, maybe you should just plan the dance alone.”

 

“Don't be silly...” Quinn began.

 

Sandi interrupted. “So now I'm silly?”

 

“I meant, it would be silly for me to plan the dance alone when I have such a talented committee. I know the four of us can come up with something really fun!”

 

“But I already did come up with something really fun.”

 

“But it's just... well, not practical.”

 

“Maybe I should just have my own party, since you obviously think I'm postal.”

 

“I don't think you're postal!” Quinn projected, annoyed at Sandi for derailing her efforts.

 

“Come on. I know a really nice insane asylum.”

 

“Sandi, I think what Quinn meant is..” Stacy began.

 

Sandi glared at her.

 

“Eep!”

 

Sandi got up. So did Stacy and Tiffany.

 

“But I need you guys!”

 

“Then next time, maybe you'll act like it,” Sandi said, sounding almost sincere.

 

Quinn knew that she was not. ‘Why is she trying to sabotage this anyway?’

 

“Sorry, Quinn,” Tiffany said as she and Stacy stepped out into the hallway.

 

Quinn sighed. She looked at her clock. There was another hour until her big date.

 

 

Day 2

It was a very reluctant Daria Morgendorffer who entered the office for the Lawndale Lowdown, which doubled as the office for the Yearbook (Ms. Li claimed that co-hosting the two publications in one office cut down on operating costs).

 

“Hi, Daria, changed your mind?” she asked.

 

“Due to parental interference.”

 

“Of course,” Jodie sighed. She recovered and handed her a camera. “I’d like to take some photos of Jane’s paintings that are in Ms. Defoe’s storeroom. Ms. Defoe and Jane already have given permission.”

 

“I can do that,” Daria said, wondering if Jodie was trying to ‘ease’ her into the Yearbook, by giving her something she wouldn’t object to.

 

 

Day 3

After school, while she was examining the negatives of the photos she had taken, Daria was interrupted…

 

“Hey! You're Daria, right? I'm Ted, the photo editor. I saw your pictures.”

 

“Then cut the small talk and get straight to firing me,” Daria shot back.

 

“That's funny, because it's the exact opposite of the truth, right? You're using sarcasm, aren't you?”

 

“Actually, I was being sincere for once. What planet are you from?”

 

“Planet,” Ted paused and laughed. “Hey! Hyperbole! Very interesting. No, seriously, though, I loved your photos. Your composition seems very Spanish, not unlike the peasant paintings of Francisco Goya. I'm a huge Goya fanatic. You?”

 

Daria paused while she considered the question. “Um, yeah, huge.”

 

 

That afternoon, Charlene Thompson entered her son’s bedroom. Since he had got out of the hospital the day before, he had been sitting in there, moping.

 

“Kevin, you can’t just sit there,” she said.

 

“With my knee busted, I can’t play football. I can’t be the QB!”

 

“Kevin, you listen to your father too much. There’s more to life than football.”

 

“But I don’t know what to do!”

 

“I’ll talk to Ms. Li in the morning. There has to be a career advisor at that crazy school.”

 

 

Day 4

In the paper/yearbook room. “Well, since you ask, I was kind of trying to get a high contrast of light and dark,” Daria answered.

 

“Neat! You must read a lot of Ovid. I read Orpheus in the Underworld when I was six, and it still haunts me,” Ted said.

 

“Uh, yeah. Me, too.”

“You know, I had to talk my parents into going to a normal school.”

 

“When do you start?”

 

“Irony! But I like it here. I only wish that volunteering or charity fundraising got as much yearbook space as sports and clubs. Come on!”