18 A
Birthday and Stormy Sonnets
The
teenage girl approached the grave site at sunset while fog was settling in.
The
headstone read.
Jacob
Elias Morgendorffer
June 23, 1952 – November 4, 2000
The girl
flipped back her cloak, allowing the fading sunlight to reflect off her glasses
and hairclips. “Hi, Dad,” Daria Morgendorffer said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been
here a for a while.” She paused. She still knew it was silly, but it was one
way of processing her grief. “Things have been busy lately, especially since
Groundhog Day.” She paused. The search for information on Oscorp’s plans for
Lawndale, and then becoming Dafoanairi had taken up more of her time than
expected. Then there was the unresolved situation with Quentin Beck.
“There
are now fourth and fifth vigilantes here in Lawndale. I can imagine you ranting
about that. Anyway, the Enigma and Dafoanairi. Can you guess who the latter is?
Me. That’s right, I’m fighting crime and rescuing people, armed with a
quarterstaff. Can you believe that? At least Jane being abducted didn’t stop my
play being played. That’s right, Tempest is now being shown at the
Historia. That despite Quentin Beck showing his true colors.” Daria shook her
head, she didn’t want to dwell on Beck. She took out the newspaper she had
brought with her.
Lawndale
Sun-Herald
Sunday,
February 25, 2001
Critics
and Jane Lane Rescued by Vigilantes including SpiderGirl
Quentin
Beck Escapes
“I’ll
read out the business section. There’s a lot about Oscorp having a
rollercoaster ride on the stock market.”
Daria
then heard something. She turned around with her quarterstaff at the ready (as
she had walked to the cemetery as Dafoanairi). “Who’s there?” she asked.
There
wasn’t an answer. She turned back to her father’s headstone. She then saw that
something was behind it. “What’s this?” She grabbed it and saw that it was a
sealed envelope. “Who places letters next to a grave?” she asked herself. She
then wondered if she would open it or not. ‘Come on, Morgendorffer, what’s
going on in Lawndale has you paranoid.’ She then ripped it open.
“A
poem?” she asked herself after reading the first couple of lines.
What’s
more, it seemed to be a love poem. ‘Really? Who asks grieving teens out in such
a way?’ She looked around again. There was no one there. “Sorry. Someone seems
to be leaving poems here.” Daria then read out the business section, as well as
the front page article.
Elsewhere
in Lawndale, SpiderGirl swung towards home after averting several muggings
downtown. It felt good to get back to the usual crimefighting after the stormy
rescue mission the day before. ‘I probably should look into how Kalina is
doing,’ she thought, thinking of one of the rescued critics.
It
didn’t take her long to get home, entering by one of the rear attic windows and
then using the hatch into her closet. ‘At least this is quiet,’ she thought as
she climbed down and began to change out of her suit within the closet.
After
that, Quinn went out into her room and took out her journal. But she then heard
Daria murmuring something as she climbed in through the hallway window.
‘Hopefully she isn’t wearing that cloak as Dafoanairi.’ She decided to risk it
and opened the door.
“Quinn?”
Daria asked, she asked as she opened her bedroom door. “This isn’t what it
looks like.”
“Looks
like what?” Quinn asked. “I heard you say something about a graveyard letter?”
“Oh!”
Daria said. “I have been so caught up with the Historia and my investigation
that I hadn’t been to Dad’s grave lately.”
“So, you
were there this afternoon?”
“Yes,
and I found a love poem there.”
“A love
poem?” Quinn asked.
Daria
took out the piece of paper in question from one of her pockets. “It’s signed
W, but I’m sure there are many boys with names starting with W at school.”
“Not all
that many,” Quinn commented as she looked at the poem. “This sort of reminds me
of the play.”
“Yes, it
has obvious influences from Shakespeare, like he’s mixing some of his sonnets
together, or was inspired by some of them.”
“That’s
something I haven’t read yet.”
“You
should. It’s worth reading,” Daria said.
Quinn
handed the poem back to her. “But why leave it by Daddy’s grave? That doesn’t
make sense.”
“It
doesn’t make sense to me either.”
“So,
you’re going to investigate?”
“Of
course,” Daria said. “Despite everything else going on.”
A while
later, Sandi Griffin was ready to do another search. She looked in the
yearbook. “Eliana Dillinger,” she considered. She downed the energy drink.
“Findu mann sem heiter: Eliana Dillinger “
She
found Eliana at her home near Cranberry Commons, playing some video game.
After
midnight, Daria sneaked out as Dafoanairi as she was now used to doing. ‘Even
on a school night,’ she thought. It seemed that she was indeed developing
insomnia. ‘Or I’m just sleep deprived.’ Still, she needed to do her bit against
Lawndale’s crime, and possibly get another opinion on the love poetry before
school. ‘What Sandi will make of it, I’m not sure.’
She met
the Enigma several blocks away as they both headed down town.
“I found
something strange earlier,” Dafoanairi said.
“What
was that?” the Enigma asked.
“I was
at Dad’s grave late this afternoon…” Dafoanairi began.
The
Enigma listened as Dafoanairi told her about the letter. She had to admit, it
seemed strange, and creepy. “Like, who tries to woo someone who’s baring their
soul to a deceased relative?”
“Someone
who could be lonely and desperate, and therefore potentially dangerous. I’ll
have to be more on guard from now on. As if I didn’t have enough on my plate.”
“But
you’re going to find out more.”
“If it’s
out of loneliness, I might be able to help in some way,” Dafoanairi said, as
they came up to a street.
“Just…
be careful.”
“I will
be.”
They
arrived at their now usual vantage point on top of the Historia theater half an
hour later. Dafoanairi looked northwestwards towards the cemetery, but it was
out of sight. ‘I’m sure that wherever the poet’s house is also out of sight,’
she thought.
“You’re
still thinking about it, aren’t you?” the Enigma asked.
“Of
course, but if something happens, I’ll focus on that.”
“I know
that. I have seen that. But simply dwelling on it probably isn’t helpful.”
“That’s
true,” Dafoanairi said. “I may investigate after Quinn’s party tomorrow.”
“Oh
yeah, Quinn’s ‘Sweet Sixteen’,” the Enigma groused. “At least everything that
went on last week, like, kind of suppressed most talk about it.”
“Sorry
for reminding you.”
“It’s
alright. I’m fine.”
But
Dafoanairi could see that the Enigma was struggling with her resentment of
Quinn. ‘But it has to be something she deals with on her own, and besides,
Quinn doesn’t want Sandi at her party.’
They
stayed there a while, watching over Lawndale.
SpiderGirl
went out on the roof to listen to Lawndale at the usual time. ‘I couldn’t have
imaged that I would be a superhero before I turned sixteen, and here I am,
being the superhero in the early hours of my sixteenth birthday.’ She wasn’t
sure how the day would go, given that Quentin Beck was still out there. ‘But he
might not be back for a while.’ There were then sirens somewhere to the
southwest, near Newridge, she was sure of it. “Responsibility calls,” she said
before swinging away.
Lawndale
Sun-Herald
Monday,
February 26th, 2001
Quentin
Beck Still at Large
Daria
brought the paper in from the mailbox. ‘Not for lack of trying I’m sure,’ she
thought after reading the headline. She saw Quinn making breakfast as she
entered the kitchen. “Happy Birthday,” she said.
“Thanks
Daria,” Quinn responded.
“Are
you sure you’re ready for tonight?”
“Yes.
I have been planning for a couple of weeks, even with everything going on. I’m
certain that the Historia can also be a venue for responsible parties.”
“I
supported that idea, remember,” Daria said as a reminder.
“I
know, it was just Robert who was sceptical about that.”
“And
you can talk to me about Dad any time today.”
“Thanks,
Daria,” Quinn said as she wiped a tear from one of her eyes. “By the way…”
“I’ll
talk to Jane about the poem.”
Quinn
was getting ready to leave to go to school when the phone rang. “Hello?”
“Quinn!
I’m so sorry I had to leave early this morning!” her mother said.
“It’s
alright, Mom. I know how hard you work.”
“Happy
Birthday! Have a good day at school, and I will see you tonight.”
“Thanks.”
As
she headed out, she knew that she would talk more with her mother that night.
Ninja
Talon arrived on the roof of Lawndale High and changed to the usual cheerleader
persona of Brittany Taylor. She paused as she came to the door downwards. She
knew what she was going to do, break up with Kevin Thompson. ‘I’m sure I’ll
find him before homeroom, calling Mack ‘Mack Daddy’ in that oblivious way. And
I’m sure I’ll run into Quinn too.’ She opened the door.
Once
down in the school, she almost ran into Quinn as she rounded a corner.
“Brit?”
Quinn asked. “Are you looking for Kevin?”
“Happy
Birthday!” Brittany said, as she threw her arms around her friend and superhero
partner (although not before making sure no one was looking). “Yes. I’m still
annoyed that he wasn’t at the play.”
“Thanks,
Brit. I’m sure he has some reason.”
“It
will be just an excuse!”
“Probably,”
Quinn said. Her tone changed, matching one she sometimes used as SpiderGirl.
“Daria found something.”
“What
was it?” Brittany asked as she stepped back.
“Daria
was at Daddy’s grave…”
Brittany
wasn’t sure what to make of what Quinn had said. “So, it’s based on
Shakespeare?” she asked.
“Yes,
on his sonnets.”
Brittany
twirled her hair. “I have read most of them.”
“Maybe
you could ask Daria if you could have a look.”
“I’ll
do that, sometime today, or tonight at the party.”
At
lunch time, Daria met up with Ted-Dewit Clinton as they both left a class. He
looked at the poem. “The sentiment is nice, but the fact you found it in the
graveyard reminds me of the Amityville Horror.”
Daria
was surprised. “You’ve seen the Amityville Horror?”
“Yes.
Robert showed me it. Very interesting.”
“Robert?”
“Yes,
it was before he started going out with Angie. Definitely before SpiderGirl
appeared,” Ted answered.
“It’s
a little romantic, from a certain point of view. But then, I’ve never had a
love letter before.”
“Many
people in school send love letters. This morning in Math, I intercepted a note
from a wrestler to a cheerleader. It wasn’t poetic, but he got his point
across.”
They
came to the Lowdown office, where Quinn and Stacy were waiting. “Who do
you think wrote it?” the latter asked.
“I
still have no idea,” Daria admitted.
“Probably
a stalker,” Stacy said. “One who has been watching you go to your father’s
grave.”
“That
thought has crossed my mind,” Daria responded. She looked at Quinn, who she was
sure had similar thoughts.
At
the same time, Brittany found Kevin.
“Hey,
Babe!” he said.
Brittany
crossed her arms. “Explain yourself, Kevin! Why didn’t you come to the play,
even though you promised me?”
“I
wanted to come! But Mom stopped me!”
“That’s
an excuse!”
“No
it isn’t!” Kevin protested.
Brittany
looked around and saw that there wasn’t anyone around, nor any of Li’s cameras.
She then turned around and knocked Kevin back against his locker.
“Brit?”
“We’re
through!” she said.
“What?”
“I
have finally had enough! I decided that this is the time to break it off.”
“Do
you mean it. I mean, you have…” Kevin started.
“I
really mean it, Kevin. You would have done it anyway with the way things were
going!”
“No
I wouldn’t have.”
“Yes
you would have, and I would have accepted it, because I have changed, Kevin. No
longer just a cheerleader,” Brittany said, with tears in her eyes.
“So
it’s over?”
“Yes!”
Brittany said. She turned around. “I would say goodbye, but we’re still in the
same school for over a year.” She then walked away, knowing that seeing him in
class was going to be awkward, but she was fine with that.
“Oh
man!” Kevin said as he watched Brittany walk away. He knew his heart was
breaking.
Jane
found Daria in the cafeteria. She had heard that Daria had found something at
her father’s grave, but wasn’t sure what to make of what she had heard. She saw
that besides Daria, Sandi, Harry, Tania and Philippa were at the table. ‘Why
Tania Ashworth and Philippa Bynon?’ she asked herself again.
Jane
took it in as she grabbed another bite of the ‘mystery meat’. A love letter at
Jake’s grave? It certainly seemed creepy. ‘Like something I would paint,’ she
thought. That was an idea. Something she was going to do after Quinn’s party
before heading out as the Shadow for the night.
“What
do you think?” Daria asked.
“It’s
definitely creepy, but it’s nearly two weeks since Valentines Day,” Jane
answered.
“Well,
I haven’t been there since before Groundhog Day, so whoever it was may have
originally written it two weeks ago,” Daria said.
“That’s
a good point,” Sandi said.
“And
it’s inspired by Shakespeare?” Harry Osborn asked.
“Yes,
like some sonnets were mixed together,” Daria answered.
“Maybe
we should get a teacher’s opinion,” Tania suggested.
“Just
not Mr. O’Neill’s,” Daria said.
“We
can ask Ms. Dafoe,” Jane suggested.
“Or
maybe another Language Arts teacher?” Harry asked.
“Or
both,” Sandi said.
“Ms.
Dafoe first,” Daria decided.
“Dafoe
it is,” Jane said. “I need to check in with her after my rescue anyway.”
