Secrets of Lawndale - Prologue

 Secrets of Lawndale

Prologue

Quinn Morgendorffer walked through the streets of Lawndale. She didn’t believe that Tiffany Blum-Deckler had thrown her out. She didn’t know why Tiffany thought she might be fat and was asking that question all the time. She turned a corner and saw her destination, Stacy Rowe’s house, half a block ahead. She was sure that they would get along better.

 

 

“So, you were supposed to stay with Sandi but she threw you out?” Elisabeth Rowe asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Looks like your mother is going to tell Mrs. Griffin off about it.”

 

“That wouldn’t be surprising,” Quinn said as she went towards the stairs.

 

 

“I'm so glad you're staying here, Quinn,” Stacy said.

 

“Yeah, me too,” Quinn responded.

 

“Don't tell anybody this, but I like you best out of everyone in the Fashion Club.”

 

Quinn wasn’t sure what to think about that. She supposed that Sandi wouldn’t be high on Stacy’s list for some reason. “Um, that's nice, Stacy.” She turned her attention back to the magazine. “Look at Bridgett in that slip dress.”

 

“Slip dress?” Stacy asked. “In fact, I'd say you're my first-best friend. And Tiffany's my second-best friend. Sandi's my third-best friend. Although sometimes Tiffany's third and Sandi's second. But you're always first.”

 

‘I thought so,” Quinn thought. “Um, okay, whatever.” She wanted to focus on what she was reading. At least she was trying to.

 

“Quinn, who do you like best?”

 

“Stacy! I'm trying to read this article on eyelashes.” She wasn’t sure that increasing their density was a good idea.

 

“Oh, right, sorry,” Stacy apologised.

 

She turned her attention back to the other article. “Ugh! I can't believe she's wearing it! Slip dresses are so over!”

 

“Yeah, slip dresses are so over,” Stacy said with a nervous giggle.

 

“So, Quinn, want to go to a movie?” Stacy asked, having changed into an outfit identical to Quinn’s, which she hadn’t worn yet.

 

“Sure. What do you want to see?” Quinn asked.

 

“I don't know, whatever you want to see?”

 

“What are you wearing?” Quinn asked nervously.

 

“What do you want me to wear?” Stacy asked as she grabbed some hair dye that she had bought sometime that week.

 

“And what's that?” Quinn asked.

 

 

“I thought we could color our hair the same shade,” Stacy answered. She didn’t expect what happened next.

 

“Um, I gotta go,” Quinn said, before dashing out of the room.

 

“Quinn?” Stacy asked before breaking down again. What had she done wrong this time? She thought Quinn would like it.

 

 

“Quinn?” Stacy’s mother asked as she dashed out.

 

“I’m sorry, I have to find somewhere else…” Quinn said quickly as she made herself scarce.

 

“Wait!”

 

 

Quinn left Stacy’s house. She didn’t know why she wanted to dye her hair the same as her, but it was a little creepy, like something out of that movie with Jennifer Jason Leigh, whatever it was called. ‘Something I’ll have to deal with at some stage,’ she thought. She looked at the storm clouds hanging over Lawndale. It was going to be a stormy night. ‘But where?’ she wondered. She wasn’t sure. Her heart raced as she considered going home. But she realised that she didn’t want to do that. She also knew that she didn’t want to deal with the rumors that staying with a guy would entail.

‘Absolutely not!’

She briefly looked at the Coultard house next door. ‘Could I stay with Anna?’ She wasn’t sure. She turned towards it as she left the Rowe’s yard. She then paused. “No,” she decided. Anna was too creepy, what with the way she smiled all the time. ‘She can’t be that happy all that time.’

 

“So, where?” There was still one place. The Lanes. She was sure that Jane would take her in, somehow. At least she hoped so, because she was sure that getting into a hotel would be difficult. She didn’t want to resort to that.

 

 

Her mind was still swirling as she walked along Howard Drive and approached the Lanes. The place looked unkempt. ‘I have no choice!’

 

Jane heard the knocking. ‘Who could that be?’ She opened the door. It was… Quinn? “What are you doing here?”

 

“Um, I need to use your phone,” Quinn dissembled.

 

Jane saw right through that. ‘What is she up to,’ she wondered. “What's wrong with your phone?” she asked.

 

“Nothing. Can I spend the night?”

 

“Are you kidding?”

 

“My mother says I can't stay home alone.”

 

Something was up. “I won't say a word. I'll even spring for the keg, but you have to pay for the dry cleaning,” Jane shot back. She was sure that she could find some money if the sarcasm went over Quinn’s head.

 

“It's too last-minute to throw a party.”

 

“Then just talk on the phone all night. Ask your friends, if they could be a nail polish, what color they would be and why,” Jane said, tiring of Quinn being there.

 

“I'm sick of that game.”

 

“You're afraid to go home,” Jane realised. She wasn’t sure why that would be. She knew that the Morgendorffer’s house was secure, and that it was a good neighborhood.

 

“I am not!” Quinn said, although it was clear from her voice wavering that it was a lie.

 

“Sorry, no vacancies.”

 

“All right, I'm afraid! There's mass serial puppy killers and stuff. Come on. Please?” Quinn pleaded, with an expression that showed that she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

 

‘Fine!’ Jane thought, deciding to allow Quinn inside. “I'm going to regret this.”

 

Quinn entered.

 

“Never mind, I already do.”

 

“Nonsense!” Quinn said in a confident tone.

 

“Come upstairs,” Jane directed.

 

“Of course.”

 

Jane sighed.

 

 

Quinn looked around at the house. It was definitely in a state of disrepair which made her feel uncomfortable. ‘Ugh!’

 

Jane went up the stairs.

 

Quinn sighed before following her. She tried not to notice that some of the bannisters were loose. ‘Why can’t they fix them?’ Were they lazy?’ That was quite likely.

 

 

The untidiness of the lower story extended to the upstairs hallway, although most of the doors were closed.

 

Quinn entered Jane’s room and looked around. It was interesting, but it was still as messy as the rest of the house. ‘Why don’t they look after the place?’ She wondered before saying; “You know, we could tidy this place.”

 

“I like it the way it is. I do use a broom once or twice a week, and vacuum twice a month,” Jane said. “I think.”

 

“I suppose that people could see it like this.”

 

“Daria doesn’t mind! Nor does Trent’s band.”

 

“I suppose not,” Quinn said. She thought for a moment and her eyes widened. “Wait! They come in here?”

 

“Sometimes,” Jane answered with a little annoyance. “We do talk.”

 

“Right, but if you ask someone out and they see your room like this??”

 

“I haven’t met anyone at school I would want to go out with who isn’t already with someone!” Jane explained with even more annoyance.

 

“Oh, Jane. Maybe you should try getting to know more people.”

 

“Really?” Jane asked before turning on her radio.

 

“Of course.”

 

“I know most of my classmates.”

 

“Most?” Quinn asked.

 

“Not including some of the new ones.”

 

“Oh. But…”

 

“They haven’t impressed me so far!” Jane said as she turned to her easel.

 

“I guess not,’ Quinn thought. She thought on it for a while.

 

 

Quinn was prattling on when Trent entered the room. “I have been on dates every week since we arrived in Lawndale. And so, Matthew asked me out again. I mean, he was really nice and cute and stuff but he was only two inches taller than me, “…and my entire shoe collection is based on the concept of dating guys three inches taller than me or more.” She paused briefly. “I don't get abstract art,” she said as she looked at the picture Jane was painting.

“Who wants to look at a bunch of squiggly six-eyed people when you can get those really pretty cat paintings on the shopping network? Not that I would ever waste money on art.”

 

“Hey, Janey. You got any money?” Trent asked.

 

“Money? Are you going out? I wouldn't mind going out for a while. Of course, I don't know if I'd want to go out with someone dressed like that.” She wasn’t sure why Trent was dressed that way, nor why anyone would.

 

“Uh, who are you?” Trent asked, perplexed.

 

‘He clearly doesn’t remember.’

 

“You remember Quinn, Daria's sister?” Jane responded to Trent’s question. ‘Of course, he’d forget her.’

 

“Oh, yeah. Daria's sister. Hey.”

 

“Excuse me, I have a name,” Quinn objected.

 

“Right. Daria's sister,” Trent said as he turned on the TV.

 

“Ugh!” Quinn said.

 

“You mean you want him back? Even though he tied you to a chair and left it on an eight-lane highway in the middle of rush hour?”

 

“He got carried away by the moment.”

 

“Why would she go on TV looking like that!”

 

Jane sighed.

 

Quinn from the TV. “That’s completely wrong!” she said before prattling on about something inane, and to do with fashion.

 

‘She needs to expand her horizons!’ Jane thought. ‘Realise that there is more than fashion and popularity. Even here in Lawndale.’

 

There was a lot more to Lawndale than met the eye. ‘Maybe if I show Quinn some of that, it would broaden her horizons?’ Jane thought on it more. It would be soon, she decided. She wasn’t sure how much more of Quinn she could take.

 

 

Quinn left the room to check out the kitchen. That show was the one that Daria watched when she was bored. She didn’t find much food in the fridge. “Boring!” she said as she slammed it shut. She looked through the nearby cupboards, but didn’t find anything healthy. “Ugh!” she said. “What now?” She realised that she would have to go out with either Jane or Trent for some kind of dinner. She sighed.

 

 

Quinn re-entered Jane’s room.

 

“What now?” Jane asked.

 

“There’s hardly anything in the kitchen.”

 

“No!”

 

“No?” Quinn asked.

 

 

The next day, Quinn insisted that Jane come back with her to her place.

 

“Why?” Jane asked.

 

“Could you please come?” Quinn asked with a pleading expression.

 

“Fine!” Jane said. She wasn’t sure why. She didn’t have to explain to Helen and Jake why their daughter was at her place instead of the Griffin’s.

 

 

“…It sounds like some kind of a sweatband, if you ask me. You know what I'd name them? Wrist ornaments. It's like a tree ornament, only for your wrist. Doesn't that sound festive?”

 

“Take her now!” a slightly frazzled Jane said to Daria.

 

“This story I've gotta hear,” Daria responded.

 

“Not right now!” Jane said in a tired tone.

 

“That’s fine,” Daria said.