[Since the first attempt, from yesterday, doesn't seem to have gotten to Deja yet, and it usually would have by now, here we go again.]
_The Look-Alike Series_ (Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit) Episode 6: "Swear to Be Different" prose adaptation by Austin Loomis
The day they would remember forever began like any other day in the hallowed halls of Lawndale High. Daria Morgendorffer, brain par excellence, was at her locker, swapping books for her next class. Her first (and still probably best) friend, Jane Lane, was looking through a stack of papers. Daria asked the big question. "So how'd you do on the `Which Era I'd Like to Have Lived in and Why' essay for DeMartino?" Jane shrugged. "C+. He didn't really think my wanting to have reshaped artistic history in the Italian Renaissance was particularly significant to his political bent...but he couldn't really fail me for it either. You?" "The usual A. He particularly enjoyed my caveat about my reduced life expectancy in Puritan times due to the tendency of the people of the day to burn aberrant personalities at the stake as heretics. -- How about you, Lynn?" Lynn Cullen, Daria's near-double, was immersed in her chosen reading material: _Loose Lips Sink Ships: How to Maintain Silence No Matter WHAT You Know or HOW They Torture [address] "Hmm?" she asked intelligently. "What?" Back to reality now, she reviewed the question from short-term memory. "Oh, I don't know yet. I've got him next." "What era did *you* pick?" Jane wondered. "The Sixties `Flower Power' thing. You know, peace, pot, promiscuity and protest. Back when scruffy kids really thought they could make a difference and giving a damn was more than a fashion statement. -- I bet I get reamed for it, though. I kind of mouthed off about 'Nam." "That can't be good. We all know how DeMartino feels about *that* bit of our nation's glorious past." "Eh. As Shakespeare said, 'What's done is done and cannot be undone.'" "That was before white-out was invented," Daria pointed out.
* * *
Anthony DeMartino, their history teacher -- of whom Daria had written in her diary "Beneath his gruff exterior, he's a puppy dog; a rabid puppy dog" -- was standing at the front of the room, looking through the students' essays. He stopped in front of Lynn's desk -- she, of course, was in the front row. "Lynn," he said, his eye periodically bulging for emphasis as usual, "*your* paper was *particularly* thought-provoking ...*especially* your description of this country's *unfortunate* Vietnamese encounter as an exercise in *intolerance* eclipsed only by *Bergen-Belsen* and the Salem *witch* hunts!" With a casual shrug, Lynn replied, "I called it as it was seen in my chosen era, sir." "Although I don't *agree* with your viewpoint," DeMartino added grudgingly, "my sense of *fair play* forces me to give you an A." In all sincerity, Lynn replied, "I won't hold it against you, sir." There were a few snickers, but DeMartino ignored them as he moved on to another paper -- and moved down the row a little to face Brittany Taylor, head cheerleader and carrier of a shoulder-mounted echo chamber, who was doodling pom-poms on her notebook. "Now, Brittany...From what of this illegible *scrawl* I can make *out,* you chose the 1950's." Brittany twirled her hair around her little finger with her most vapid expression as she replied, "Um...okay!" in the tones of one who's not really sure what question's being asked. "In response to my inquiry as to *why,* Brittany, you put down `*hula* hoops and *poodle* skirts.' Now, Brittany, can you explain how the *fleeting fads* of an *insipid* era have made *any* difference to the life of *anyone* with the *brain capacity* of a *spore mold?* Even Brittany, not known for her keen insight, could sense that she was in trouble -- Mr. D was much angrier than usual, which in his case took a lot of doing -- but for the life of her, she couldn't think of anything to say except the truth. "Um...cheerleading?" DeMartino tore at his hair for a moment, then exploded in her face. "I've *had* it, Brittany! I'm *sick* of your *consistent* refusal to grasp the concept that *you are a moron!* You have *nothing* going for you but an admittedly *impressive* body that will *sag* in your middle years and a *sieve-like* mind that will only attract men seeking to avoid *conversation* and intelligent *pre-nuptial* agreements! You are a *waste of space,* Brittany, a *nothing!*" Not even Brittany the Living Pudding could fail to understand this barrage of insults. She began to cry. Lynn started to get really angry, but DeMartino hadn't extracted his pound of flesh yet. "Once you hand in your *pom-poms* in your senior *year, no one* will even remember your *name!* The only mark *you'll* ever make on the world is a *notch* on someone's *bedpost!*" Brittany ran from the room, sobbing as she hadn't done since Kevin was called up on stage without her at the Amazon Modeling class. In that moment, Lynn finally snapped. She lunged out of her chair, palms on her desk, and shouted "*Lay off her, you abusive f***!*"
* * *
"How do you think DeMartino reacted to Lynn's paper?" Jane asked Daria as they walked down the hall. Just then, the door immediately in front of them burst open, and DeMartino charged out, dragging Lynn behind him by her ear. "Ah," she said, "now we see the violence inherent in the system! *Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help, I'm being repressed!*" The two then moved out of sight and earshot, heading in the direction of the principal's office. "What the hell was that?" "_Monty Python and the Holy Grail_," Daria explained. "Dennis the anarcho-syndicalist peasant." Jane looked a bit confused. "Do we really want to know?" "Well, you asked how he reacted to her paper..."
* * *
In her room at Casa Lana, Jane was working on a painting inspired by her best friend's essay: Daria dressed in Puritan clothing and tied to a stake, as torches waved in the foreground. I don't know if she'd ever seen Richard Pryor's album _Was It Something I Said?_, but even if she hadn't, the resemblance was eerie. Daria was sitting on Jane's bed, staring at the opposite wall. Lynn was lying at Daria's feet in the "something eating at my soul" pose more often adopted by Daria herself; she'd just told them how DeMartino had reacted to the two papers, and how *she'd* reacted to the second reaction. "So you used a word that gets bleeped on Jerry Springer," Jane noted nonchalantly. "Big deal. What *really* surprises me is that you stood up for Brittany." "Yeah," Lynn observed morosely. "I defended her right to have that pink insulation stuff where her brain should be. And now I'm paying for it." "So what'd you get?" Daria asked, sounding vaguely sympathetic. "Detention? Suspension?" With a mock casualness she didn't really feel, Lynn replied, "Expulsion, actually." Jane was genuinely shocked. "*What?* For swearing at a teacher *once?*" "Let's not forget, `with cause,'" Daria pointed out. Lynn tried to stay casual. "Hey, I got off lucky. I think Ms. Li would have happily seen me get twenty lashes followed by a public hanging from the Tommy Sherman Memorial Goalpost. She's got a real hate on for me." "Maybe so, but that can't be fair." "I've never got the impression that life was fair," Lynn observed, morosely but still matter-of-factly; "why should it start now?" She sighed heavily. "I suppose there are good points to this. Mom's in Brussels on business this week, so she won't find out until next Monday. That'll give me plenty of time to think up a good defense...or get the hell out of the country, whichever's easiest." She grinned. "And anyway, I've *always* wanted an excuse to use that line and mean it." "What," Jane wondered, "the abusive--" "I think she means the Monty Python line," Daria opined. "Oh." An uncomfortable pause. "Hey, Lynn, do you want to stay over tonight?" Lynn sighed again. "Nah. Thanks, but I really just want to be alone with this one." She got up to go. "If you don't hear from me by Sunday, assume I've run away to join the ranks of the homeless unemployed." And on that cheery note, she made her exit. Daria was feeling a desperate need to *do something.* "Can we just let this happen?" "Sure," Jane replied, "but that'll mean Lynn gets thrown into some other school so she can make other people's lives miserable. Wouldn't that deprive us of the pleasure of watching Lawndale *really* suffer?" "So we need a plan. Any ideas?" Jane shrugged. "Hey, you two are the devious, subversive ones. I just go along with your evil schemes for fun and profit. You think of something." Daria glared slightly at Jane, who smiled and ironically saluted her with a paintbrush.
* * *
Dinner that night at Morgendorffer Home Base was that old standard, concentrated starch and protein squares with genuine imitation cheese- food-and-tomatin topping -- in other words, lasagna. Daria's father was hidden behind the newspaper as usual. Quinn, Daria's too-perfect younger sister, was picking at her food with a dreamy expression on her face -- probably thinking about her Phantom Admirer. Daria's mother was suspiciously eyeing her elder daughter, who hadn't touched her "food" and was now looking miserably at her plate. Usually Daria was just blandly stoic; if she was actually showing how down she felt, she must be *really* bad off. "Daria...sweetie," Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer asked, a bit worried, "is something wrong?" Daria, unable even to think of a decent comeback, sighed. "A friend of mine got unfairly expelled today." Helen frowned. "Oh...it's not that Joanne girl, is it? Because I thought that girl was trouble from day *one* and I wouldn't be at *all* surprised if--" Daria interrupted, quite forcefully in fact. "First of all, I think you're referring to *Jane.* Second, it wasn't her that got expelled. Third, if you'd listened without prejudice...or listened at all...you would have heard me say `unfairly.' And you wonder why I never tell you anything?" She stalked away from the table. "Oh, damn it." Helen realized she hadn't blown it as a parent *this* badly since Daria had that creative writing assignment. *That* time, Daria's summary of her mother's failure had ended with the very good question, "Do you even know me at all?" Jake looked up from his paper at that moment. "Hey...where's Daria? Out with her friends?" _At least I'm not as oblivious as my husband,_ Helen thought. In fact, on that creative writing assignment, she'd managed to surprise Daria with her insight into the sensitive girl behind the -- what had she said when that football player died? -- the "misery chick" facade. _Time to see if that was just a fluke._
* * *
Daria was in her bedroom, lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling, when there was a knock at the door. "The door that you have knocked upon is permanently out of service. Please do not try again later... or ever." Helen opened the door anyway and came in. "Daria, can I talk to you?" "Provided you don't expect me to listen, reply, or react to you in any way, feel free." Helen was starting to get irritated. "Look, you're not making it easy for me to apologize for being unfair." More quietly, she added, "Now, who *did* get expelled, and why do you say it's unfair? I'd like to help, if I can." Daria realized that her mother's legal know-how might give her an edge. "DeMartino was verbally abusing a student. Lynn told him to back off, and in doing so used *one* four-letter obscenity. She was brought before Ms. Li and immediately expelled." Helen had to think it over for a moment, but concluded, "That certainly doesn't *sound* like an offense punishable by expulsion. I'll look into it." Warily, she added, "I assume you have every intention of taking matters into your own hands?" Daria evaded that question. "I'll have to plead the Fifth on that one." _Particularly since I'm not sure *what* I'm going to do yet._ Helen sighed exasperatedly. "Just don't hurt yourself or anyone else...and *please* keep it legal." With her usual deadpan tones, Daria replied, "I promise to abandon the nail-bombing campaign." She looked at her mother with a respect she hadn't felt since...well, since her mom had suggested she write about her hopes and dreams, and in the process had turned out to know so much about her. _It's a funny thing, Daria; you give birth to someone, you just get an urge to keep tabs._ "Mom..." she realized she wasn't sure how to say this. "...um..." With a little smile, Helen helped her daughter keep to the Law of the Teenager. "You're welcome." She made her exit then, leaving Daria to ponder her next move...as in "figure out what that move was going to be."
* * *
Andrea Thorne had a certain reputation at Lawndale High -- specifically, a reputation as "that creepy Satanic death-chick." It was a rep she didn't exactly work overtime to discourage, because it wasn't wholly inaccurate. She *did* dress Gothick, after all, and as a practicing neopagan, she honored the Goddess and Her Horned consort in all Their aspects, occasionally including His as Judge of the Dead. Most of the time, though, she tried to stay off the Left-Hand Path, remembering the Threefold Rule and the inadvisability of calling up anything you can't banish, but this was shaping up to be one of the times when some quick-and-dirty negative vibes were just what Angela Li needed to shake her up. Outcasts have to stick together, after all, and what happened to Lynn Cullen today might happen tomorrow to the only person at Lawndale High who was, despite everything, probably an even bigger outcast than Lynn or her friends. Speaking of those friends, there was Daria Morgendorffer standing alone at her locker. Andrea approached her silently and stood there for a moment. Daria didn't notice until Andrea did something she almost never did -- spoke. Andrea's attitude toward talking was much like Daria's toward smiling -- she didn't like to do it unless she had a reason. "So Lynn got expelled." Daria wheeled, momentarily taken aback, but made a quick recovery when she saw who it was. "Um...yeah. Yeah, she did." "Damn shame." Daria was confused. "Why do you care?" Andrea decided it would take too long to explain. "Dunno. Seems cool." _Cool to care about a fellow weirdo._ "So, gonna do something about it?" "Probably..." Daria replied tentatively. _As soon as I have an idea what._ "Why?" "I wanna help. Censorship blows." "Okay..." Daria replied, still wary of the silence with which Andrea had come up on her. _Hmm...silence..._ An idea blossomed -- plausible, tempting... "Meet me and Jane at Pizza King after school?" "Vegetarian supreme?" "Whatever." "Cool." Andrea continued on her way. Daria stared after her. "Okay then." She felt her face quirk up into that little Mona Lisa smirk.
* * *
Over that vegetarian supreme, Jane and Andrea eyed each other warily, but when Daria mapped out the plan Andrea's quiet approach had inspired, they both agreed it was a damn good one.
* * *
In her room, Daria moved the mouse on her computer and clicked on the Print button in the dialogue box. Pieces of paper came out of the printer, bearing the message she had written, under the heading _SPEAK OUT IN SILENCE_. She looked at them with another Mona Lisa smile.
* * *
Andrea approached her Goth friends Susie and Bianca, giving them each a slip of paper. They read the message, then nodded their agreement.
* * *
Jane threw some more of Trent's T-shirts onto the big pile on his bed. She finally located the T-shirt she wanted -- the Marilyn Manson one on which the Rev proclaimed, "I Am The God of F***." The T-shirt mountain moved as Trent emerged from under it, looking bewildered.
* * *
Daria met with Andrea and her friends, looking and feeling very small and plain compared to them. One of them handed her a T-shirt which said: "I feel for you. Your problems interest me greatly. I feel great empathy for you and the difficult life you lead. You must be the unluckiest person in the whole of creation. Now f*** off and stop bothering me." She read it and smirked. _I may have to try and keep this one after the protest is over._
* * *
Jodie Abigail Landon, superstudent, read the note someone had passed to her -- a flyer printed in Daria's preferred typeface: "_SPEAK OUT IN SILENCE_ "Silent protest against the expulsion of Lynn Cullen and the violation of her right to free speech. Begins 8 a.m. on the football field & lasts as long as it takes." This was followed by instructions for participation. She looked at it with an uncertain air.
* * *
By 7:57 or so, a very large group of students had gathered on the football field. The only two things they all had in common were that (1) they were carrying backpacks and sleeping bags, and (2) somewhere on his or her person, each of them was wearing an item with "that word" on it. Daria, Jane and Andrea stood below a sign that read simply:
IF ONE WORD RUINED A STUDENT'S FUTURE, WE DARE SAY NONE AT ALL. BRING LYNN CULLEN BACK TO LAWNDALE HIGH.
Below it, scrawled in what looked for all the world like black lipstick, were two more words: CENSORSHIP BLOWS. "Was that really necessary?" Daria wondered. "Sums it up," Andrea replied. Daria sighed. "Okay." She checked her watch. "We have two minutes until the silent protest begins. Any last words?" "How long do we keep this up?" Jane wondered. "Until Lynn gets put back in school or until the police drag us away," Daria replied, serious as a stroke. "I'm sick of Ms. Li pushing us around." "Hey, guys," said one of the last voices Daria had expected to hear in a place like this. To judge from the surprised expressions of Jane and Andrea as they, like her, turned around, they hadn't expected it either. But it really was Jodie, accompanied by her boyfriend and fellow African-American student, Michael Jordan "Mack" MacKenzie, both wearing "Choose Life" T-shirts with that quote from _Trainspotting_ -- well, Danny Boyle's film of it, anyway. Daria hadn't yet read Irvine Welsh's original novel, though she intended to do so one of these days, so she didn't know if the quote was in the book. It's the one that runs along the lines of _Choose life, they say. Choose a job. Choose your friends. Choose your future. But why the f*** would I want to choose something like that?_ "This is going to play hell with your permanent record, Jodie. Forty-five seconds to reconsider." "No way. Colleges love this sort of thing." "Giving a damn as a fashion statement," Daria remembered Lynn's words just before the hammer had fallen. "How right you were." She raised her voice, yelling loud enough to get general attention. "*Okay, people, countdown in five! Four! Three! Two! One!*" She pushed a button on the boom box she'd brought, and Pink Floyd's "Another Brick In The Wall" began to play over an entire football field full of utterly silent students in obscene T-shirts, reading or writing or staring at the clouds.
* * *
"o/~ We don't need no education... o/~" In her office, Angela Li heard the music first. "o/~ We don't need no thought control... o/~" She looked out the window, whence she could get a halfway-decent view of the football field. "What the hell...?" she boggled, seeing that most of the student body was relocated there. "o/~ No dark sarcasm in the classroom... o/~" She took a swig from her hip flask and charged out of her office. "o/~ Teacher, leave them kids alone... o/~"
* * *
"o/~ All in all, you're just another brick in the wall. o/~" On the football field, the music played on as Ms. Li approached Daria. "I assume *you're* ring-leading this little *circus!*" Daria stayed silent, merely pointing at the sign -- "If One Word Ruined a Student's Future..." Li began to yell above the music. "*Will all Lawndale High students get back to your classes immediately! Those who obey my orders will not face disciplinary action, but those that remain will find an indelible black mark on their permanent records!*" Jodie looked nervous, but when Mack put a supportive hand on her shoulder and Jane gave her an understanding smile, you could see her worries evaporate, but you could also see the great effort it was taking her to relax. She put a finger to her lips, silently shushing Ms. Li, then pointed at the sign just as Daria had done. "We'll just see what campus *security* has to say about *this!*" She stormed off the field in a high dudgeon.
* * *
About lunchtime, as "Battle Of The Beanfield" by The Levellers played, the protesting students brought out bag lunches from their backpacks and quietly ate them. Mr. O'Neill, Daria's marshmallowy English teacher, approached, carrying a paper bag. "This is some protest, Daria," he said in his gentle tones. "I had no idea you felt so strongly about this." Daria smiled, put a finger to her lips, and pointed at the sign. O'Neill smiled back, put a finger to his own lips, and pointed to the sign as well. Then he sat down near Daria and pulled a sandwich out of the paper bag. He'd sent home a note to Daria's parents once in which he said, in addition to his usual mixed-metaphor psychobabble, "If I take a special interest in Daria, it is because she reminds me of myself at a young age, before I discovered Gestalt and the writings of M. Scott Peck." It looked like that younger, more smart-alecky Tim O'Neill hadn't been completely smothered in feel-good fluff after all. He took a tape from the bag and handed it to Daria. She looked at it, looked at him questioningly, then stopped the Levellers CD, put the tape into the cassette slot, and pressed Play. Two voices, Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel, and a lonely acoustic guitar. "o/~ Hello, darkness, my old friend... o/~" Daria looked at O'Neill with raised eyebrows. "o/~ I've come to talk with you again... o/~" O'Neill shrugged, and so did Daria. "o/~ Because a vision softly creeping... o/~" They let it run. "o/~ Left its seeds while I was sleeping And the vision...that was planted in my brain Still remains...within the sounds of silence... o/~"
* * *
At about the same moment that Paul and Art were being joined by the bass and drums on which CBS Records had insisted, Trent Lane approached Lynn's front door and rang the bell. A moment later, Lynn herself appeared. "Hi, Trent," she said glumly. "Hey. Can I talk to you?" "Sure. I assume human companionship will at least prevent me from going more insane than I already am." She opened the door wider to let him in. He followed her up to her room and seated himself on her bed as she returned to her computer, which was on the Web. "Surfing for anything in particular?" "New schools. Mom'll want me in a boarding school with bars on the windows after this. I thought I'd give her some options while she's ripping my face off. -- What's up?" "I..." He decided he wasn't ready to approach *that* topic just yet. "Hey, do you want to talk about this thing that's going on with the school?" "Provided you're not suggesting that to avoid the real issue. -- There's not much to say. I swore at a teacher. I got expelled. No one gives a damn. End of story. -- So you want to talk about what you said to me when you mistook me for Daria on Halloween?" Trent blushed. Here it came. "Yeah. I mean...have you..." "See that book on the floor by my bed?" Trent looked -- it was something about how _Loose Lips Sink Ships_. "What does that tell you?" "I mean, I want to tell her. I saw her that night and just..." "Lost what passes for your mind, I know." "Do *you* know what Daria thinks of me? I mean, it'd be so much easier for me if I just knew that she didn't think I was some loser in a crappy band." "Look, whether I knew or not, I wouldn't tell you because anything anyone says to me is taken into strict confidence unless they've implicitly told me otherwise. -- But why don't you ask Jane? She's your sister, and she's known Daria a *lot* longer than I have." "Janey's not talking to me about that. -- In fact, right now she's not talking to me about *anything.*" Lynn was confused. "You two have a fight or something? I thought neither of you cared enough about anything to get into arguments." Trent did his coughing laugh. "I can see why Janey and Daria like you. Nah, it's not like that. You said no one gives a damn if you're expelled or not?" If anything, Lynn's confusion now deepened. "Good recall, boy, but I don't..." "Come with me."
* * *
Depeche Mode were inviting the students on the football field to "Enjoy the Silence" when Trent's car pulled up and he and Lynn got out. "o/~ Words like violence break the silence Come crashing in, into my little world... o/~" "What the hell happened?" Lynn boggled. "The school burn down or something?" "Peaceful protest," Trent explained. "They're having a silent sit-in to get you reinstated at Lawndale. Only rules are, you've gotta wear a shirt with `that word' on it, and *you* can't say *any* words. They're gonna sit there until you get brought back or they get dragged off." Lynn felt her eyes go wide. "Really? Whoa." Trying to maintain her ironic distance, she asked, "Do you think a bunch of scruffy kids can make a difference?" "Hey, it worked in the Sixties." Lynn raised an eyebrow, then removed her jacket. The shirt under it had looked like one of her customary grey high-necked T-shirts, but uncovered, it turned out to be custom-printed with the cheery sentiment "F*** 'Em & Their Law." She gave Trent a Mona Lisa smile that couldn't have looked more like one of Daria's if it had been. "I wear this whenever I'm feeling down. -- Serendipitous, if you ask me." "Go for it. I've gotta go pick up some food for Janey and the others." "Yeah...um..." She kind of trailed off. Very quietly, she said, "Thanks." Just as quietly, Trent replied, "You too. And...um...if this thing comes off...put in a word, okay?" Lynn felt herself blushing, but managed a mischievous tone for her reply. "So long as, if I ever ask you to do the same, you do it, no questions asked." "Deal." He got into the car and drove away. Lynn faced the football field for a long moment. _Well, here goes my educational career...one way or the other._ With that, she started across the field to join her friends. "o/~ Words are meaningless and forgettable All I ever wanted, all I ever needed is here, in my arms Words are very unnecessary, they can only do harm... o/~"
* * *
The music played on. The protesters kept sitting there, not bothering anyone. Some police officers were standing around a couple of squad cars on the street bordering the field. Ms. Li was shrieking at them, "Get those Neo-Hippies *off* my football field!" "As far as we're aware, Ma'am," one cop pointed out, "that field is public property. No law against them sitting in it." "Anyway," his partner added, "we can't force 'em off. Technically speaking, if we try to remove them, we're in it up to our necks for assault." "That one there, with the glasses and the big boots, that you say got this bunch together? That's the daughter of one of this state's most prominent lawyers. I don't want that woman on my case if we bruise her first-born." Li was furious. "Are you saying there's *nothing* you can do? What are my tax dollars *paying* for?" "Ma'am," the second cop attempted to placate her, "I would try to reconsider your position here. I mean, you won't tell anyone why these people are protesting, and the nature of their protest seems to preclude them saying anything about it, but from what I can see, this is a bunch of smart, well-off kids from good homes with a genuine complaint against the system. I'd hate to see the freaks with guns telling me what I should and shouldn't do in violent protest, but I think kids who can protest like this and are willing to stick it out for the long haul have a right to speak their minds...or express their opinions, anyway." "We'll take our leave of you now, Ma'am." his partner added. "Have a nice day." They motioned to their comrades, and all the cops got in their cars and left. Ms. Li glared after them. "They won't stick at it. Just watch. Kids don't have the *attention span* for this!" She took a swig from her flask.
* * *
The night proved her wrong. The music had been turned off to let those who wanted sleep get it, so the only sound was a chorus of crickets and the grinding of her teeth as she stood there watching the protesters curled up in sleeping bags or reading by flashlight. "*Damn!*" She took another swig at the flask, then threw it at a nearby tree.
* * *
The next morning at the offices of Vitale, Davis, Horowitz, Riordan, Schrecter, Schrecter and Schrecter, Helen was not, for once, pacing or shouting, but reading through a rather large stack of legal briefs. The phone rang and Marianne, her personal assistant, picked it up. "Helen Morgendorffer's office." A pause. "One moment, please." She put a hand over the receiver and turned to her employer. "Helen, it's Ms. Li, the principal at your daughters' school, on line one. Something about silent protest?" _At least it's legal,_ Helen thought as she took the phone from Marianne. "Hello, Ms. Li." "Miz Morgendorffer, your daughter Daria has instigated some sort of a silent protest and is at this moment cluttering up my football field! I'm not sure what sort of morals you're teaching your daughter..." "I seem to have taught my daughter a few principles," Helen replied in a dangerous tone, "like standing up for friends unfairly treated by a woman who seems to have no problem with running pell-mell over student rights." That flustered the dragon lady. "I..." Helen wasn't finished. "I don't approve of the use of profanity when addressing one's elders or superiors, but I *will* condone it when provoked. From what I was given to understand, Lynn Cullen was standing up for a fellow student being verbally abused by one of your faculty members who, as I *also* understand it, did not receive so much as a reprimand for reducing a student to tears and driving her out of the classroom." "How I conduct my disciplinary matters is none of your affair!" "You'd be surprised, Ms. Li. This Lynn Cullen is a friend of my daughter's and, if both Lynn and her parents request that I do so, I will serve as legal counsel for her if and when they bring this matter to legal proceedings. Every case I've come across since I heard of this unfortunate matter shows that your overzealous punishing of Lynn Cullen was completely unheard of. There is still such a thing as freedom of speech in this country, Ms. Li, and while you can punish by right of _in loco parentis_, you cannot simply kick a child out of school for losing her temper *once.* Now I know my daughter, and she and her friends will probably stay on your damn football field until Hell freezes over if you don't let the girl back into school and tell them they can all go home. I would suggest you either do that or prepare for a lot of away games this year." With that, she hung up right in Ms. Li's ear, allowing herself a small, triumphant smile. "That's my girl."
* * *
At almost the same moment, on the football field, Trent was handing out bagels to Daria, Lynn and Jane. "I thought you guys could use these. It's becoming a real long haul. I haven't seen anyone leaving, though, so I guess no one's given up yet. It's really cool how you could lead all these people into a protest of something really unfair, Daria." He turned and walked away. Jane gave Daria a thumbs-up sign and a smug grin. Daria mimed aiming a gun at Jane. Lynn, knowing what she knew, simply gave the other two an indulgent smile. Ms. Li appeared on the field with her megaphone. "*Attention, protesting student body! I have agreed to reinstate Lynn Cullen as a student of Lawndale High! I cannot waive all punishment, but instead of expulsion, she will be disciplined by three weeks of detention! Some of your parents have called and are worried about you, so please go directly home and let your families know that you are safe! That is all!* A cheer rose from the protesters -- the first sound any of them had made since it started the previous day. Lynn was genuinely impressed. "Wow. Maybe I was a little harsh about scruffy kids making a difference." "I have the feeling that it was the non-scruffy element that won this one," Daria observed. "I mean, what police officer in his right mind wants to risk bruising the precious son or daughter of a prominent Lawndale businessman or television personality?" "Or lawyer." Lynn's voice took on a suspicious tone. "How much did your mother have to do with this, Daria?" "Probably more than I care to know. But never mind. The important thing is that your mother won't tear your throat out when she comes home from Brussels next week." "And you get to watch as I tear this school to shreds before I leave." "Looking ever forward to it." Lynn's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure she was threatened into reinstating me. One of these days, though, I'm going to get her out of that power seat and behind bars where she belongs." _And I'm going to start the preparations now. Don't want to get caught short again; third time must *not* be the charm._ As casually as she could, she asked, "Want to help?" "Provided it doesn't interfere with my nap schedule." Lynn gave a little laugh. "Well, there we are. Look, you'd better scram. Your mom'll give you hell." "Nope. She's working late...again."
* * *
Daria entered her room to find a small package on her bed, with a note attached. She glanced at the note. "Dear Daria, sorry about working late _again,_ but when I get home I'd like to hear about your silent protest. It sounds a lot like the things that your father and I used to do when we were about your age. I came home at lunchtime because there was something I wanted you to have as soon as you got home. It meant a lot to me when I was a teenager, and it does now. I know that, whether you wear it (as I hope you will) or toss it into a drawer, you'll at least keep care of it for me. It'd be nice to have it passed on to the next generation. Love, Mom." She opened the package and pulled out a medallion on a very long silver chain. On one side was a purple peace sign. On the other was a Taoist _Tai Ch'i_, the yin/yang symbol of the unity of opposites. Daria looked at it for a moment, considering, then put it on under the sarcastic-reading T-shirt, so that its sunny sixties optimism would be safely hidden by her bitter nineties cynicism. She smiled, then switched on some quality television. "You think *your* teenager's bad? Check out *this* family's pride and joy! Prodigal sons from Purgatory, next on _Sick, Sad World_!" _It gets worse and worse every season,_ Daria rejoiced.
ADAPTOR'S NOTES
This was the story that really got me hooked on the Look-Alike
Series. I had the privilege of getting to explain to the Canadibrit *why*
she gets so much praise for it -- in my opinion, anyway. As I see it,
it's a specific case of the general principle that we all wish we'd known
the "Daria" of our high school better than we actually did (unless we
were one of the few people she counted as friends at the time). Just
so, we've all wished there'd been someone who could have rallied the
whole school to *our* defense when we suffered some real or perceived
injustice at the hands of the administration. At least, I know *I* did.
Tomatin is actually a town in Ireland, but _The Deeper Meaning
of Liff_ defines it as "The chemical from which canned tomato soup is
made."
The Threefold Rule is the "Wiccan" (Neopagan) notion that whatever
you send out to the universe, the universe returns to you multiplied by
three -- in other words, Westernized karma.
"An idea blossomed, plausible, tempting," is (of course) a quote
from that classic of 50s pirate comics, _Tales of the Black Freighter_
#24, "Marooned, Part Two" by Max Shea and Walt Feinberg, by way of its
inclusion in that classic of 80s revisionist superhero comics, _Watchmen_
by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons.
O'Neill's note to the "Morgendoplers" [sic] appears in _The Daria
Diaries_, as does Helen's reply to it ("I understand where you're coming
from: I too have come to superficial realizations while hugging complete
strangers on mountaintops").
Obligatory legal blap: Daria Morgendorffer was created (as were
the rest of the Lawndale characters) by Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis
Lynn, and she and her neighbors are copyright 1993, 1997, 2000 MTV
Networks, a Viacom company. The _Watchmen_ quote is probably copyright
1986, 2000 DC Comics, an AOL/TimeWarner company, and definitely not Alan
Moore and Dave Gibbons as _Watchmen_ rightfully ought to be. (As
Michelle Klein-Haess has pointed out, work-for-hire sucks the yolks from
ostrich eggs.) Monty Python quotes and characters are copright 1970,
1975, 2000 Python (Monty) Pictures Ltd. Lyrics from "The Sounds of
Silence" copyright 1965, 2000 Paul Simon. Lyrics from "Another Brick
in the Wall" copyright 1979, 2000 Roger Waters. Lyrics from "Enjoy the
Silence" copyright 1990 (I think), 2000 Depeche Mode. (If anyone can
give me the names of the relevant music publishers, I'd be obliged.)
They are here used, without the permission of their creators or owners,
in the not-for-profit context of fan-fiction. The character of Lynn
Cullen is copyright 1999, 2000 Janet "Canadibrit" Neilson, as is this
storyline, which was adapted by Austin Loomis (to whom the prose format
version is copyright 2000) with permission.
All other characters, locations and incidents (of which I don't
think there are any, actually) are either imaginary or used fictitiously.
Any coincidence of names is regretted, and any resemblance to persons
living, dead, undead, or wandering the night in ghostly torment is either
purely satirical or not my fault.
As a "substantially transformative" derivative work, this story
is protected by the Supreme Court's decision in re Campbell v. Acuff
Rose Music. It may be freely redistributed as long as this copyright
notice is maintained intact, but may not be in any way redistributed
for profit without the permission of the legal owners of all concepts
involved. The present author hereby gives permission for any and all
keepers of Daria fanfic pages to archive this work (as if I could stop
them). Any publication of this story for profit without the express
written permission of Austin Loomis, Janet Neilson and MTV Networks (like
any of that'll happen, especially the last) is strictly prohibited, and
violators, if I ever decide to track them down, will be strung up by
the thumbs, beaten about the head and shoulders with a free-range carrot,
and then handed over to corporate lawyers who will do terrible things
to them on purpose.Austin, and good day. Al D T0 W- Q Fw^Fr O+ Ow+OH+Of m c- MV+ F:111,208,313 BB+ FCT -DT+ q fJ^fj^fD