This is my sixth Daria fanfic, after The Whole Truth, Emancipation, Blood Oath Of Patriots, By Any Other Name, and Smackdown.

Sincere thanks to Renfield, Justin Smith, and Robert Nowall for beta reading this for me, and also to you others who offered suggestions and encouragement.

This story takes place between Speedtrapped (#310) and I Loathe A Parade (#406), so Daria has no romantic inclinations toward Tom.

THE BEACHES of BARKSDALE

GALEN HARDESTY

Chapter 1

TO BOND A MOCKINGBIRD

Daria Morgendorffer sat on the sofa in the family room, remote in hand, hopefully flipping through the channels one more time. "Sixty-seven channels and nothing on." she muttered.

The front door opened and Helen Morgendorffer entered, briefcase in hand.

"Great news, Daria. We’re going to the beach next Saturday!"

Daria switched off the TV and turned toward her mother. "That’s nice, Mom. Have a good time. Bring me back a seashell."

"You’re going with us."

"That won’t be necessary. I’ll just burn myself on the stove while you’re gone. You can bring back a bucket of beach sand, and I’ll stuff a handful in my crotch, and you guys can throw the rest of it at me. It’ll be just like I was really there. That way you’ll be able to devote your full attention to bonding with Quinn all day, or until you go bankrupt, whichever comes first."

"That’s very amusing, Daria. I’m sure your dry but sparkling wit will help to make the day a memorable one."

"You’ll have to ask Jane about that. She’ll be the main beneficiary of it. We’ll be touring museums Saturday, remember?"

"No, you won’t, Daria. You’ll be at the beach with us."

Daria stood and faced Helen squarely. Her tone of voice became wholly serious. "Mom, Jane and I have had this trip planned for two months. I told you about it then. I told you again two weeks ago when we made our hotel reservations."

Damn. Helen did vaguely remember Daria saying something like that about two weeks ago. That would make this more difficult. "I’m sorry, Daria, but you’ll have to reschedule."

"We can’t reschedule. For several reasons, this is the only time both Jane and I can go. You reschedule."

"I can’t. This is, uh, the only time I’ll be able to get completely away in the foreseeable future."

Daria was starting to get a bad feeling. She could tell that Helen was holding something back. "Well, I don’t see any problem. You guys go to the beach, Jane and I go to the museums, we meet back here Sunday evening, everybody’s happy."

Helen was still trying to sound reasonable, even though she had no intention of actually being reasonable. "Daria, we’re a family. We do things as a family. That’s how we stay a family."

A sarcastic tone crept into Daria’s voice. "That’s funny. I thought we stayed a family by caring about and respecting one another."

Helen tired of the charade. "Daria, we need this time together to communicate with one another, to bond with one another. You will go with us."

Daria stalked out. "I am NOT going to rearrange my entire life every time YOU get a wild hair up your...

-----:{}:-----

Preparatory to ducking dinner, Daria had come downstairs to forage when she’d heard Helen enter her bedroom to change. She was seated at the table eating a hot dog when Helen came in. Ignoring her mother, Daria stolidly munched and swallowed, occasionally sipping from a glass of juice.

Helen poured herself a cup of coffee. "I want you to get a new swimsuit, Daria."

Following an interval of silence, Helen tried again. "Daria, did you hear me? I want you to get a new swimsuit, and I want you to let Quinn help you pick out something attractive."

That word again. "What do you mean, ‘attractive’? Something that picks up nails and screws?"

"No, Daria, that is not what I mean."

"Something that draws flies?"

"You’re being ridiculous."

"Something that displays my bait to best advantage?"

Helen bit back an angry retort, smoothed her facial expression with a hand. "If you insist on phrasing it that way, Daria, yes."

Daria pulled out the neck of her raw sienna pullover shirt, peered inside. "Something with large magnifying glasses mounted on the top part?"

Pointedly not responding, Helen rose to refill her two-thirds full coffee cup.

Jake entered with the paper, sat down at the table. "Hi there, kiddo. Err.. whatcha doin’?"

Daria looked up from the front of her shirt. "Looking for my bait. Mom wants to take it to the beach and troll for morons with it."

Jake opened his mouth, then noticed the violet glow of ionization in a line between Helen’s eyes and Daria’s. How either of them could stand up to the other’s glare he didn’t know. Many a time his shields had buckled and collapsed beneath the onslaught of Helen’s ravening beams, and he knew that Daria’s main battery was already every bit as powerful. Abandoning the Sun-Herald as useless against such hellish energies, he lifted off and engaged full reverse thrust.

"Jake, tell..."

"Gotta go check the worm-and-pinion gear on the Lexus!", and he was through the dining room door, on emergency boost for the relative safety of the garage.

"Wait, Dad, that’s in here," Daria called after him. "I’m the worm and Mom’s got me pinioned."

Helen disregarded Daria’s droll attempt to feign weakness. She’d already taken several hits from Daria’s sarcasm, while Daria was unscathed. "Why can’t she cooperate cheerfully for once?" she thought angrily. Well, cooperate she would, one way or another. The family needed to spend some time together, to talk and share and grow closer. That was much more important than Daria’s little trip. Why couldn’t she see that? Helen moved back to the table but didn’t sit, preferring to retain the psychological advantage of height.

Daria reviewed her strategy and surveyed the tactical position. She knew this battle was lost before it had begun, as far as Helen’s stated objective went. All she could do was make it a Pyrrhic victory for Helen, make her pay as high a price as possible, in as many ways as possible, as a deterrent against future violations. She must make Helen say, after Pyrrhus himself, "Another such victory and I am undone!" Daria fired another full spread into her foe.

"So let me see if I’ve got this straight. You want to trample on my rights which you have sworn to protect as an officer of the court. You want to cancel my long-established plans, kidnap me and drag me where I have no desire to go. Once there you intend to strip me as near to naked as the law allows and display my physical inadequacies to the world on a crowded public beach. And to make sure my humiliation is total, you’ll stand me next to Quinn. Who gets to hold the sign pointing out that she’s my younger sister? Oh, yeah, and then you say, "Go on and have fun now, dear." And you expect this to foster a deeper, more meaningful relationship between us?

Helen waved an arm angrily, as if batting at a yellow jacket, dripping coffee on the table in the process. "Good grief, Daria, we’re talking about a day at the beach here! One lousy day for family togetherness! You need to adopt a more positive attitude!"

Daria sprang to her feet, fists clenched. "We’re talking about you stealing my weekend of museum crawling with Jane! Memories we would have treasured the rest of our lives! Something we can never have now, because she will have already seen them! You need to adopt a blue-ass baboon and leave me alone!" Before Helen had finished parsing that apparent non sequitur, Daria was out the side patio door and gone.

Helen stared at the door, feeling furious and sad at the same time. Why the hell did she have to have plans this weekend? Daria almost never had plans! And why hadn’t Helen entered that trip in her planner? She sighed. The gold card probably wouldn’t do it this time.

-----:{}:-----

Jane opened the door to Daria’s knock. "Come on in. This is Liberty Hall. You can spit on the mat and call the cat a bastard."

"What?" A puzzled squint replaced a darker expression on Daria’s face.

"Something my weird great-uncle used to say. I don’t want to wear out "mi casa es su casa".

Daria smiled a bit and shook her head as she stepped in. "Ah, Jane. Who else could make me smile when I’m in this foul a mood?"

"Ms. Li getting run over by a garbage truck?

"That would do it."

Jane grinned. "Chum on. Tell Auntie Jane what’s got her widdo Dawia all upset!"

Daria’s smile vanished. "I can’t go with you this weekend. I have to go to the beach with the psychopaths."

Jane’s face fell. "Oh, crap! Well, come on and tell me about it." She put a hand on Daria’s shoulder and steered her toward the stairs. This could be her chance to finish up "Girl With Something Eating At Her Soul II".

Chapter 2

BUSTING UP CASHMAN’S

Daria eyed the gold card with contempt. "Adopt a cheerful attitude? Enjoy myself? Be pleasant? While wearing a swimsuit picked out by Quinn? An isolated cabin in the mountains. In the middle of at least four acres of land. Preferably surrounded by officially designated wilderness. With water supply. Electricity not necessary. Definitely no phone."

"Daria, be reasonable. That’s just not doable."

Arms crossed, Daria glared angrily at Helen across the kitchen table. The more she attempted to avoid contact, the more Helen had taken to lurking near the refrigerator. "Why should I be reasonable when you never are? Hmmm. Make that "Pretend to be pleasant." And you might want to rethink "Enjoy myself". A car. Three years old or less. Reliable and cheap to operate, paid for and insured. Medium to dark green. Never owned by a smoker."

Helen put the gold card away, pulled out the platinum. "I’m sure you can think of something you want other than a car, Daria. Why don’t you go look for a swimsuit?"

Daria stared at the credit card for several long seconds, then said, "We’ll see. Keys."

Helen brought out the keys to her SUV. "Now, you be careful, dear."

"‘Dear’ season is over, and your license has expired." Daria glared at her mother, then at the keys and card. Finally she took them, turned, and headed to the family room. "Quinn! Mall!" The pitter-patter of little feet resounded in the upstairs hallway and thundered down the stairs. The front door opened and closed. A few seconds later, car doors slammed, Helen’s SUV started up and pulled out of the driveway.

Helen smiled a little, chose a wine cooler from the refrigerator. That hadn’t gone too badly.

-----:{}:-----

Daria drove along the semi-rural road to the mall, her mood several shades darker than its weathered asphalt. Quinn chattered gaily from the front passenger seat. "This is gonna be so cool, Daria! You’ll have a great time at the beach, now that you’re finally gonna have a decent looking suit! And maybe I can even stand to be seen next to- um, never mind." Her remarks confirmed that she’d been briefed by Helen.

"Be still, my wildly beating heart." Daria fought the urge to increase the upturn of Quinn’s oh-so-cute noselet with an axe hand strike.

"Jeez, Daria! If you’d lose that attitude and act normal, you’d enjoy yourself! You could maybe even meet some guys!"

"Why would I want to meet guys at the beach when I don’t want to meet them at school?"

"You’re a teenage girl. It’s your time to meet guys! Why don’t you want to meet guys at school, anyway?"

Daria sighed. "I think I explained this before, Quinn. You don’t date guys who ride the short bus to the special school, do you?"

"No."

"People of normal intelligence don’t usually date retarded people. The line is usually drawn at an IQ of 70, thirty percent below average. I’m oversimplifying here, leaving out standard deviations and stuff. But if I were to draw a line thirty percent below my IQ, how many guys at Lawndale High do you think would be above that line?"

"I don’t know... a dozen? Seven or eight?"

"One."

"Just one?! Who?"

"Upchuck."

"Yak! That begins to explain your bad attitude. But what if you moved the line down a little further?"

"If I move it down to forty percent below my score, it only nets me four other guys. A hopeless mama’s boy computer nerd, a sociopathic misogynistic hacker, Ted, whom I’ve already dated, and Mack, who’s taken. So you see, I have been looking."

"Which begs the question: where, and how? You’re talking data here, Daria. Where did you get it?"

"Black bag job. I looked it up in the school records."

"They don’t let students look at those!"

"I broke in at night, Quinn. That’s what black bag job means."

"Damn! How do you do these things? Hang out with G. Gordon Liddy? More superpowers?"

"I learned how on the Internet, and bought a few lockpicks. I probably could’ve just sneaked around the janitors." (1)

"Well, anyway, the beach is a totally different situation. You don’t have to pick one guy and spend the rest of your life with him. We’ll only be there for a day. Find one, or several, that might be able to keep you amused for a few hours. If he doesn’t pan out, throw him back and get another one."

"Yeah, as if there were a chance in a hundred that I’ll find a guy who can keep up his end of an intelligent conversation."

"Ghod, Daria! Don’t you get it? The beach is a place people go when they want to turn their brains off! Where they can forget about work and school and problems and worries for a little while! Try it one time! Leave all your studies and your philosophical mopery and your plans for world domination at home, and just be a little beach bunny for a few hours. It’ll do wonders for you!

"I’ll take it under advisement." Daria wondered why the prospect didn’t disgust her as much as it should.

-----:{}:-----

"Come on out, Daria, and stand in front of the mirrors so you can see how you look."

"Mnrmfmrr..."

"You’re being silly. I said I’d put one on too and draw eyeballs off you, if you want."

Daria emerged from the dressing room in a pleather string top with medium low bottom. "Time enough for that particular humiliation later." She studied her reflections. "Fits okay."

Quinn gave it a critical eye. "Yeah, but the color’s wrong for you. Want to try this one? White looks good on everyone but albinos." She held up a white bikini with some kind of crystals set in geometric patterns on top and bottom.

"Kind of Rhinestone Cowboy looking. Besides, I’d be afraid to sit down anywhere or eat anything in pure white."

"Mmm, it’s a point. I guarantee you’d look great in this one. The color sets off your hair and brings out your eyes. It’s a little on the green side of teal. Not on Waif’s summer in-colors list, but..."

Daria held the flimsy-looking assemblage of triangles in front of her. "That’s a plus in my book. But it’s too skimpy! String top and bottom?"

"String bikinis always fit because they’re so adjustable. Try it on. It’s not that skimpy."

"Mmmh.. all right. But see if you can find one that color with a few more square inches of fabric." Daria took the suit back into the dressing room.

A few minutes later Quinn was again waiting impatiently outside Daria’s dressing room. "Come on out, Daria. Let’s take a look."

"You come in. Help me get the top adjusted right."

Quinn slipped in and closed the door. She started taking up slack on the strings that tied behind Daria’s neck. "Oh, yeah, this is gonna look really good on you. I didn’t notice that this top had any padding."

"It doesn’t."

"Well, it’s doing something. It makes you look..."

"Like I have boobs? I do, you know."

"I know that. Those awful jackets and the sport bras don’t fool me. Let’s just say this suit suits your figure exceptionally well. Go take a look." Quinn stepped out and held the door open.

Daria walked out to stand in front of the mirrors, with Quinn behind her right shoulder. "This definitely works for you, Daria. It really enhances your bustline."

"Yeah, by letting it all hang out. It’s just too skimpy! Dad would have a cow!" Daria’s eyes flicked from mirror to mirror. Damn! It was really too bad she didn’t have anyone she wanted to attract.

"He does that all the time. Better than that, Mom would have a cow internally and probably hurt herself trying not to show it! Daria, if ever you go to the beach or the pool, and don’t want to be invisible, this is your swimsuit."

Just then a loud commotion made them turn around. Over at the department boundary, two young men were extricating themselves from a heap of wreckage that had recently been a display. They glanced at Daria, then hurried away, red-faced.

"And the verdict is in! You’re a knockout!" Quinn grinned.

"Oh, come on!" said Daria, trying to hide behind Quinn. "I didn’t do that!"

"You don’t think so?" Quinn’s eyes darted around the store and spotted something. "When I say, walk over to in front of that chair, then back to in front of the mirrors. Ready... go! Go now!"

Unwilling, but impelled by Quinn’s tone, Daria walked to the spot indicated. There were no boys or men visible from her viewpoint except a couple in the far side of the store, too far for them to make out what she was wearing. She headed back toward the mirrors. She hadn’t taken three steps when a similar clatter erupted. Turning, she saw two boys, whom she vaguely recognized as Lawndale High students, picking themselves out of the same pile of wreckage. They, too, glanced at Daria and hurried away, embarrassed.

"Definitely a traffic hazard!" Quinn smirked.

"Small wonder- I’m practically naked!" Daria ducked back in the changing room. "Did you find anything else?"

"Try this one. It’s not the same color, but it goes with your hair and skin tones."

A few minutes later, Daria peeked out of the dressing room. After a look around, she timidly emerged in a spring-green bikini with white polka dots and white trim. She turned from side to side in front of the mirrors. The top covered a bit more of her bosom, and the bottom had two-inch sides.

"I like it. It looks good and I don’t quite feel naked."

"Yeah, but the last one looks great, and the feeling will go away. That top has kind of an engineered look to it."

"Hmmm. You mean the underwire?"

"No, just the general look. And you don’t need an underwire."

"Well, I like it and it feels comfortable and I want my clothes back now, so I’ll take it."

"Jeez, Daria, you are worse to shop with than a guy! I’m gonna run right over there and look at those new tank tops."

Forty-five minutes later, Daria was browsing the magazine rack at the bookstore when Quinn caught up with her. "Daria! Why’d you run off on me like that? I’ve got a bunch of stuff waiting at the checkout counter!"

Daria gave her a "don’t even think of trying that with me" look. "Well, hurry up and pay for it. I’m about ready to go."

"Gimme the card." Quinn held out her hand.

"The card is my bribe. I know you well enough to know that you worked out your own deal with Mom. Move it or hoof it."

"Come on, Daria! Don’t be selfish! You know what the credit limit on that card is! You can’t possibly... omigod. Omigod! You can’t be planning to max out Mom’s platinum card!"

Daria’s face and voice remained expressionless. "Hide and watch. I’m leaving in five minutes."

-----:{}:-----

Ten minutes later, heading home in Helen’s SUV, Quinn was feeling sorry for herself. "I had to leave a bunch of stuff, stuff I really needed! How could you be so mean!"

Daria kept her eyes on the road. "If you really need it, Mom will buy it for you. You’re not my kid, thank goodness."

"Ooohh!! I hope you do max out Mom’s card! She’ll make cat food out of you! I did that once with Dad’s card, and I know!"

"That was gross stupidity on your part. The case here is entirely different. Gross thoughtlessness on Mom’s part, compounded by gross stubbornness. She knows she’s wrong, but she won’t admit it and she’s still making me go, for no good reason that I can see."

Quinn dropped her snit in favor of curiosity. "You could just go with Jane anyway."

Daria wasn’t averse to a certain amount of conversation on the topic. "I considered that, of course. But that would allow Mom to make me the bad guy. She could ground me, cut off my allowance, not buy me a car, and who knows what else. She’s really good at that Family Court crap, and she enjoys it ‘way too much. What she did to me would vanish away and count for nothing because I wound up going on my trip despite it."

"But I don’t see how maxing her platinum will help you."

"I’m not going to give away my plan, but generally speaking, I’m going to play a positional game. Grab up small incremental advantages, one by one, while she’s driving toward her main objective. Tactically, I’ll turn it around on her. I’ll obey. I’ll go to the freakin’ beach. That allows me to seize the moral high ground, from which to guilt trip her and rain down terrible punishment. Strategically, my objective is to make sure she never dreams of pulling a stunt like this again, without allowing permanent, irreparable harm to come to our relationship. That last part will be the hardest. It would help a lot if I knew why she’s so dead set on going to the beach this weekend. Do you know anything about that?"

"No reason in particular, that I know of. My theory is that she has a family bonding geyser in her head somewhere, and every so often, when it builds up a head of steam, it blows."

Daria chuckled. "Nice imagery, and a pretty good fit to the known facts. But it doesn’t help me much with this problem. I’ll keep looking for another reason."

Quinn smiled a bit at the rare compliment from Daria, and decided not to rat her out to Helen. Daria had never before allowed her this much insight into her planning for such a major struggle. Quinn would keep her eyes and ears open, maybe even take notes. She might learn more this weekend than she would from this whole semester of school.

-----:{}:-----

Daria studied her monitor screen with satisfaction. "That about does it", she thought. Just then Helen’s voice called from downstairs. "Daria? Did you get a swimsuit? I’d like to see it."

Daria grabbed a shopping bag from the floor. Standing, she picked up Helen’s platinum card from beside her keyboard, blew on it and fanned it in the air, grinning wickedly.

She came down the stairs and walked over to the sofa where Helen was sitting, surrounded by her usual notes and transcripts. She placed the bag on the coffee table. "Quinn-approved bikini. Keys. Card. You might want to refill that before the weekend." From the far love seat, Quinn watched intently.

"The SUV? We’re taking the Lexus."

"The card." Daria turned away.

"Daria! You maxed out my PLATINUM?!"

Daria’s head snapped around so fast that her hair flared out horizontally. She skewered Helen with her gaze, turning back to face her foe squarely without seeming to move her eyes at all. In a tone as hard and cold as ice on Pluto she said, "Would you like me to cancel my purchases?"

Helen quailed before Daria’s steely glare and the promise it held. She barely avoided physically flinching. There were three more days before they left for the beach, and she knew she couldn’t take three days of Daria’s cold fury. One or the other of them would be dead before they pulled out of the driveway on Saturday morning. She needed Daria on the beach in a reasonably good mood. Helen shook her head. No dollar amount had been mentioned. She hadn’t a leg to stand on. "Where did you spend all that money?"

"The mall, the Internet."

But what in the world did you buy?"

"Beachwear, prescription sunglasses, books, magazines, software, a scanner, a motherboard, and a telescope." Daria’s look said, "Object to something. I dare you."

"A telescope?"

Daria smiled ever so slightly. "A twelve and a half inch, f five point seven Newtonian."

"That sounds like a handy size. Can you collapse it and carry it in a pocket?"

"No, Mother. Twelve and a half inches is the diameter of the primary mirror. The tube is eighteen inches across and six feet long. I can break it down for transport in the trunk and back seat of a small car."

"Good grief! That’s not a telescope, that’s an observatory! I don’t believe you’re that interested in looking at stars."

"Not stars so much as nebulae, galaxies, the outer planets, maybe some asteroids. I’ve been looking at pictures of them for years in books and magazines. I want to actually see them." Daria turned and went back upstairs. Helen watched her go with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Quinn watched her go with admiration, thinking, "I’ve got to learn that look!" Jake mentally upped his estimate of Daria’s power rating. She’d definitely scorched Helen’s hull plates that time.

ROAD KILL

or

JUST AN OLD SWEET SONG

Jake took in the scenery scrolling by, felt the hum of the smooth asphalt, the powerful sweep of the Lexus rounding a curve. He looked over at Daria, his eldest, riding shotgun. "Don’t you just love the open road? Let’s have a song!"

Daria looked back at her father, and found herself enjoying his enjoyment, even after cringing at his totally corny Andy Hardy attitude. Oh, well, he was only embarrassing himself in front of his immediate family. Laying aside a sarcastic remark, she selected a response that might provide a bit more fun.

"Okay!

Jake and Quinn joined in.

Helen yelled "HOLD IT!"

Daria shot her mother a feigned hurt look. "What?"

"That song doesn’t have an end to it, does it? Let’s sing something with a finite number of verses, shall we?"

"Party pooper! Umm, let’s see... Ah. A thousand bottles of beer on the wall, a thousand bottles of beer!"

Clueless as ever, Jake joined in happily. "Take one down and pass it around, nine hundred ninety-nine..."

"Daria! Jake! We are not singing a thousand choruses of that stupid song!"

"All right, Mom, we’ll cut it down some. Nine hundred ninety bottles of beer on the..."

"Daria!"

"All right, Mom! Jeez! Nine hundred bottles of beer on the wall, nine..."

"Daria, either pick another song or let’s do something else entirely!"

"Grouch. Well, how about a game? Dad, remember that strange game your grandmother taught you?"

"You mean Old Dead Pig? You want to play that?"

"Sure. I’ll start. Old dead pig in the road. I one ‘im!" Daria poked Jake’s elbow.

"I two ‘im!" said Jake.

"I three ‘im." said Quinn, who, sitting behind Jake, was next in the rotation.

"I four ‘im." said Helen, without enthusiasm.

"I five ‘im!" smirked Daria.

"I six ‘im!" from Jake.

"I seven ‘im." from Quinn.

"I eight ‘im." muttered Helen.

"You ate him?!" chimed in the other three. "No wonder you stink!"

"Quinn, you start this time," said Daria.

Quinn eyed Daria speculatively. "I one ‘im!"

Daria poked Jake again. "I two ‘im!" he said.

"I three ‘im!" smirked Daria, and turned around to face Helen.

"All right! I get it! I stink!" Helen snapped. "Daria, that’s not a game, it never was! It was just something to keep small children amused, in a time when children were more easily amused than they are now." She shot Daria a cranky look. "Most of them, anyway."

Daria smiled a pleasant, innocent smile. "Just trying to keep a family tradition alive. This is supposed to be a family day, isn’t it?" She turned back around to face forward. "Some of us could stand to adopt a more cheerful attitude."

Quinn stared at Daria with the dawn of a wild hope. Could this be the return of "Party Daria" at long last? Quinn counted the times she’d seen Daria go manic before. She came up with four, the first three starting with Daria trying to get on someone’s nerves. The last time, at Daria’s twelfth birthday party, had involved cough syrup, probably too much. Daria had been hilarious, truly the life of the party, making wicked observations, telling jokes, making up awful variations on party games and keeping everyone in stitches. Quinn had liked that Daria so much she hadn’t even gotten angry about being temporarily less popular than her sister. Ever since then Quinn had secretly longed to see "Party Daria" one more time. Maybe, just maybe, her wish was about to be granted.

-----:{}:-----

Jane entered the next room of the art museum and was momentarily stunned. Taking up almost an entire wall was Picasso’s "Guernica". She realized it must be a reproduction, but it was still magnificent. Gazing on the twisted, tortured figures in the midst of the cubist carnage, Jane wondered how Daria and her twisted family were doing. They must be on the road, about halfway to the beach. How deep was the blood in the floorboards of Jake’s Lexus right now?

-----:{}:-----

Helen saw Daria’s eyes watching her in the rear view mirror. Hastily, she stuck her smile back on. Helen was sure that, while Daria’s lips might be singing "cowboy", she was thinking "mother", and that she was similarly substituting "her daughter" for "no bronco".

"That’s, uh, nice, dear, but do you know any more cheerful songs?"

"How about ‘Barnacle Bill the Sailor’?"

"Is it a clean version?"

"I didn’t know there was a clean version. It doesn’t matter, I already taught it to Quinn."

"Daria! Shame on you! When did you do that?"

"A long time ago, as soon as I learned it."

Helen looked over at Quinn, who grinned. "Well, we’re not singing it."

"Why not, if we all know it? It’s a fun song."

"Daria, we are not singing that vulgar song!"

"Well, poo! Whatever happened to adopting a cheerful attitude and being pleasant? Or was that just me who was supposed to do that?"

Helen scowled in thought. She couldn’t let Daria make her look like a killjoy, while casting herself as a little ray of sunshine. "I know. Let’s play the picnic game. Why don’t you start, Daria?" Daria liked this game and was very good at it, so she couldn’t plausibly turn it down.

Daria smiled a small crooked smile. She appreciated craft in her opponent. Fine, she thought, let’s see what we can bring to the picnic. "Okay. I’m going to the picnic, and I’m bringing... my angst."

"Of course," smirked Helen. "You take that everywhere. I’m going to the picnic, and I’m bringing my angst and my briefcase."

It was Daria’s turn to smirk. "Of course. And your cell phone, and your determination to break through the glass ceiling."

Helen kept her smirk in place. "Good comeback," she thought, a trifle grudgingly.

"Hey, my turn!" Quinn piped up. "I’m going to the picnic, and I’m bringing my angst, my briefcase, my cell- oop! Nonono! And... cheeseless pizza. Your turn, Dad."

"Okey-doke! I’m going to the picnic and I’m bringing my angst, my briefcase, cheeseless pizza, and, umm, donuts! With pink icing and little colored sprinkles!"

"I’m going to the picnic and I’m bringing my angst, my briefcase, cheeseless pizza, donuts with pink icing and little colored sprinkles, and... my existential angst."

Helen snorted. Daria was almost begging for it. But she’d let it slide. "I’m going to the picnic, and I’m bringing my angst, my briefcase, my cell phone, donuts with pink icing and little colored sprinkles, my existential angst, and a federal statute."

"HA! Gotcha!" exclaimed Daria. Jake chuckled and Quinn giggled.

"What?!" said Helen, puzzled.

"You said ‘cell phone’ instead of ‘cheeseless pizza,’ smirked Quinn.

"Couldn’t stand to be without it, huh, honey?" grinned Jake.

"Ha, ha. Yeah, you got me that time," said Helen, faking a good-natured smile. What galled her was that she actually had left her cell phone behind, so she could devote herself to her family without distractions for once. She felt cut off, out of the loop without it, and that anxiety was what had led to her slip-up. Damn. No good deed goes unpunished.

But wait. Daria’s reaction indicated that she’d deliberately set that trap, and maybe even covered it up with that obvious straight line on her second turn. Was she that devious? Helen had to get her into law school somehow! A mind like that could slice Johnny Cochran or F. Lee Bailey to bits in a courtroom! Helen sighed. Too bad that mind was after her right now.

-----:{}:-----

Walking rather quickly past some overly flattering seventeenth century portraits, Jane stopped at a picture of two duelists. Painted by a French artist whose name she didn’t recognize, it almost looked like a double portrait. Both duelists were dressed very elegantly and both were obviously real persons, in contrast to the spectators, who had probably been done from the artist’s character study sketchbook of ugly street people. As they glared at each other past crossed rapiers the larger, more mature duelist looked very formidable and determined, but the younger one had an air of supreme confidence. The artist seemed to be suggesting that he would be the winner, without actually painting the result. Jane couldn’t help wondering how Daria’s duel with Helen was going.

-----:{}:-----

"Ooh, yum, I can hardly wait," said Daria insincerely. "I’m going to the picnic, and I’m bringing an Amicus Curiae brief, a butterfly embroidered on my pink baby tee, cookies, a copy of Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak, an Extradition order, my impeccable Fashion sense, a dish of Garbanzos, a copy of Hero Of Our Time by Mikhail Yurievich Lermontov, an IRS audit, a pair of pink Jellies, a platter of Knishes, a copy of Letter To Gogol by Vissarion Gregorievich Belinski, a paid-off Mortgage to start the fire with, a diamond necklace, Orange Roughy a la Jake, a copy of Petersburg by Andrei Bely, a Quit Claim form, a rutabaga for Daria, a big pot of squirrel stew, and a copy of...

"If you name another Russian novel, I’m coming over that seat back!" Quinn threatened truculently.

"I’ll give you a boost, dear," mediated Helen evenhandedly, "And later you can help me strangle Amy for getting her started on the damned things."

"Wusses," sneered Daria. "I even let you skate on the authors. Okay, picking back up, a rutabaga for Daria, a big pot of squirrel stew, and a copy of The Good Girl's Guide To Bad Girl Sex by Barbara Keesling."

"GAAH!!"

"Eeek!"

"DARIA!!"

"What?"

"NO DAUGHTER OF MINE IS..."

"JAKE! I’m on it! Daria, why are you reading a book like that?!"

Daria radiated innocence. "I’m not."

A bit of puzzlement adulterated Helen’s angry expression. "What are you doing with it, then?"

"I don’t have it, any more than Quinn has a rutabaga. I happened to see it in the bookstore, and it starts with a ‘T’." Daria let her poker face slip enough to reveal a slight smirk. "Your turn."

Helen’s expression was a curious amalgam of relief, embarrassment, and irritation. "Oh. Well, umm... would you repeat what we have so far?"

Daria allowed her smirk to expand a teensy bit. "Nope."

Helen’s expression went right back to angry. "Daria! Did you use that salacious book title just to distract me?!"

Daria’s smirk was pretty good sized now. "Yup. Your turn."

Quinn’s hands were still covering her mouth in what she hoped looked like a shocked expression, rather than the large grin they were in fact hiding. This wasn’t exactly "Party Daria", more like the earlier instances when Daria was tormenting an unpleasant babysitter, or, in one case, Helen. But she’d do. She’d do. This was gonna be a fun trip. Quinn struggled to control her grin so she could lower her hands.

Helen groused and snarled, but Daria’s smirk was unyielding. "Well then, Daria, I guess you win. If you’re going to play gorilla ball, perhaps we should go back to singing songs. Cheerful songs."

Daria thought a minute. "Quinn, remember that song we heard on TV a couple of weeks ago?"

"You mean ‘Our House’?"

"Yeah. That’s cheerful. Mom, you and Dad come in on the chorus. It goes:

"Okay, first verse." Daria and Quinn began to sing.

"Daria, do you know any nice songs where nobody dies?"

"Well, let’s see.. Ballad of John Henry? Nope. He dies. On the Lone Prairie? They buried him there. Streets of Laredo? He’s cold as the clay. Barbara Allen? Dies. Big John? Cave-in. The Irish Rover? The whole crew drowns but one guy. Casey Jones? Scalded to death by the steam. My Darling Clementine? Fell into the foaming brine. Running Bear? The raging river pulled them down. Patches? Floating face down in that dirty old river. Moody River? Same. Ode to Billy Joe? Same. Teen Angel? Silly me. How about ‘Barnacle Bill the Sailor’?"

Daria was really getting into her role as activities director from hell. "I know! Let’s play ‘Helen’s last nerve’! Whoever makes her screech their name the most times wins!"

"Daria!"

"One for me! Yay!"

"DARIA!"

Daria fired off a snapshot of Helen’s face. "And Daria surges ahead to an early lead."

"Daria, can’t you for once get into the spirit of a family outing and just have fun?"

"Mom, I am having fun. Really."

With a sinking feeling, Helen realized that this was true. Daria was enjoying herself immensely, in direct proportion to how much she made her suffer. "Would it be possible for you to enjoy yourself in such a way that others could enjoy themselves as well?"

"You mean like..." Daria locked eyes with Helen. "...take into consideration the rights and wishes and feelings of others? Gee, I don’t know, Mom. You tell me." A line from an old movie popped into her consciousness. Then as I end my refrain... thrust home! She pictured Daria de Bergerac’s rapier sheathing itself in Helen’s heart. The expression on Helen’s face told Daria that her thrust had indeed hit home. She turned back to face forward. "I know, Dad! Let’s sing the Young Aviator song!" Jake’s grin answered Daria’s. To the tune of "My Bonnie lies over the ocean", the two began singing:

Helen cringed. That was one of the songs Jake had learned in military school. More than the gross lyrics, more even than the knowledge that Daria had selected it just to annoy her, the realization that Jake had somehow been bonding and sharing with Daria when she hadn’t was like bitter gall to her. How the hell had he done that? The two of them hadn’t gone on any trips or outings together, well, except that one stupid seminar, hadn’t set aside any "quality time", hadn’t reserved a suite or a cabin or a cabana, hadn’t done any of the planning and preparation and hard work she’d done organizing this trip. Had they just sat at the table or on the sofa and... done it? Was that possible?

Oh, God, another one! How many of those awful songs did Jake know? Had he taught Daria all of them? Did she actually like them? Probably. Daria had that morbid turn of mind. Or had she just learned them to please Jake? Naah. Daria had never learned anything from her like that.

Oh, wait. Yes, she had. Daria had learned to read during those long days at the law library at college. In those moments stolen from her studying. What a sponge her little brain had been! Daria could read kiddie books by the time she was three, and almost anything in the paper by four.

Her brain was still a sponge, come to think of it. She’d about cleaned out the school library, and was complaining about the pickings at the city library. But she hadn’t learned anything from Helen lately. What had Helen offered to teach her lately? She couldn’t think of anything. And actually...

A memory from that long-ago time surfaced. She’d been reading something in a law book, she couldn’t remember what.

Helen had looked down, Daria was sitting in the floor with a copy of the Middleton College newspaper, pointing at an article on the front page. Helen bent down, looked closer. Daria’s tiny finger was pointing at the word "the", the most common word in the English language.

Helen had pointed out the letters and gone back to her law book. A minute later...

And so it had begun. Daria had continued to pick out words, usually very common words or words next to very common words. Helen couldn’t remember ever being asked about the same word twice. So Helen hadn’t initiated teaching Daria to read, either. Daria had pestered it out of her.

What a treasure she was! One in a million. No, more like one in ten million. Helen felt ashamed for ignoring her so. Daria was such a quiet child. She almost never pestered Helen after she’d learned to read. So easy to ignore. She’d just go and read a book.

Good grief, they were back to beer again! "You know, dear, the purpose of this trip is to spend time bonding with one another. Why don’t we do that for a while?"

"But we are bonding, Mom. Dad, aren’t we bonding here?"

"We sure are, kiddo!"

"Quinn, aren’t we bonding?"

"Yeah, I guess." Quinn gave a lopsided smile. "I’m sure seeing a side of you that you don’t often let out."

"Well, Mom wanted me to be pleasant and have fun, and she paid for it. It’s costing me, but I’m like an honest politician. Once I’m bought, I stay bought."

"I don’t detect any bonding taking place between you and me, Daria. When is that going to happen?"

"When you stop treating me like chattel. Or like some prop on the set of ‘The Helen Barksdale Story.’ Daria struggled to maintain a pleasant tone.

"Good grief, Daria! I’m just trying to get the family together for some quality time, so we can talk and share and get caught up with each other’s lives!"

"The quality of this time is extremely poor, from my viewpoint."

"Whose fault is that? This trip is costing me a young fortune, and you’re not giving it a chance."

"It’s your damn fault! You kidnapped me! You stole something from me that I can never get back! What did you expect? Money can’t buy my love!"

The ensuing silence lasted almost to the beach.

Chapter 4

CHIC of the BURNING SANDS

Jane stared at ‘Le Dejuner Sur L’Herbe’ by Manet. From a distance it was obvious it had been painted in a studio rather than on location. The forest in the background looked like a not-so-well-done canvas backdrop, and the lighting was flat and directionless. But Jane wondered what Manet was trying to do here.

The painting supposedly depicted a picnic and swimming outing, but the ‘picnic’ was merely a few fruits and a lumpy bun, sketchily indicated in the lower left corner, strewn on the clothing of one of the two girls. The other girl, still in her slip, was wading awkwardly in some unconvincing ‘water’ in the background. Two young men reclined in the foreground, apparently absorbed in some intellectual discussion. Jane remembered reading somewhere that their hats indicated they were college students. They must have just gotten out of a really fascinating lecture, Jane thought, not to notice the naked girl sitting within easy grabbing distance of both of them.

The girl, whose face was pretty although her hairstyle sucked, was staring straight out of the picture plane at the viewer with a smug little smile. It reminded Jane of Daria’s "I know what you’re thinking but I’m way ahead of you" look. Jane concluded that Manet had intended to provoke the Art Establishment of his day. She could certainly sympathize with that.

But it irritated her that the men were fully clothed, while one woman was jaybird naked and the other headed that way. Why were the women always expected to show all their goodies, or lack thereof, while men were free to wear whatever they felt like? Jane turned and walked on. Was there any contemporary art in this gigantic rockpile?

-----:{}:-----

Daria put down her beach bag and small boom box and looked around. Quinn had had a point. The beach was a very simple environment. Sun, sand, sea, people walking around in few clothes. One could put one’s brain on standby here, if not turn it off altogether. She opened the rented green-and-white beach umbrella, jabbed its metal tip into the sand next to a white-painted wooden beach lounge chair. It stood tall and proud for three seconds, then toppled over. Daria sighed. Maybe Dad could do it when he finished checking them in.

Daria thought, "I knew you couldn’t keep quiet about that bikini!"

Helen looked at Daria. "Really? Why didn’t you get it?"

"She thought it was too skimpy. It wasn’t, really. It was so perfect for her!"

Sensing that her moment was approaching, Daria began building up her nerve. "You can do this. This is normal beachwear for this decadent age. You are not naked. You do look damn good in it," she told herself.

"Daria, you really should try to overcome your shyness and be a little more outgoing. This is exactly why I wanted you to let Quinn help you pick out a suit. In fact, I believe some money changed hands in aid of that..."

"Well, actually, I did get that bikini." Daria turned her back to Helen and Quinn and carefully placed her camera on the arm of a beach lounge chair. She quietly unbuttoned the five large sky-blue buttons on the printed white beach cover-up she was wearing, but didn’t open it.

"Oh! That’s wonderful, dear. Why don’t you go up and put it on?"

Whipping off the cover-up in a smooth, quick move, she said, "Got it right here."

Helen’s eyes and mouth opened wide, and Daria snatched her camera and preserved the moment for posterity. Then she spun and shot Quinn too. Daria wondered what most held her mother’s attention, the tiny (Daria thought) blue-green bikini, the fact that she actually had something resembling a figure, or Jane’s body art.

Jane had offered to do it in an attempt to cheer Daria up a little. Daria had seen the parent-freaking potential and had, in fact, cheered up. Their discussion of the possibilities, accompanied by evil chuckling, had helped decide Daria to go for the skimpy string bikini when she saw it, and had served as a catalyst for much of Daria’s tactical planning. Loosen up. Don’t be shy. Be more attractive. Helen was always telling her that. Well, Daria would do it, she’d decided, and see if Helen really meant it.

There was nothing inherently sexy about Jane’s artwork. Around one upper arm she had done a stylized morning glory vine, the kind with lavender flowers, and around the other, a multicolored Celtic border motif. On her right shoulder was a floral design done in Art Nouveau style. She’d done a multicolored cockatooish bird on Daria’s back, in such a way that it looked like it was perched on her halter string. Daria thought it looked like it was thinking about untying the knot.

On Daria’s stomach Jane had done a clump of flowers, starting with a large one with her navel as its center. A butterfly hovered above them, just below her bikini top, and a bug-eyed cutesy little spider clung to one of the stems. The first thing the viewer noticed about them was that they seemed to be growing out of her bikini bottom.

Several shops along the strip advertised body art, but Daria was willing to bet she couldn’t get anything near this good for less than a hundred. Jane had had plenty of ideas for her legs and lower arms, but Daria had vetoed them to preserve the element of surprise. And, she saw now, Quinn and Helen were definitely surprised.

Several thuds and exclamations in male voices caused Daria to turn around. She snapped an offhand shot of a colorful heap a short distance away. The heap separated itself into three young men, earnestly discussing which of them was the clumsiest. Gathering her courage, she set her camera down and went over to offer assistance. Lifting up on the forearm of one as he extricated himself, she asked, "Are you all right?"

"I’ll live- no thanks to Nutso and Klutzo there. Hi! I’m Harry." His arms were hairier than average.

"That’s ’way too easy. I’m Daria."

They were all looking at her, but trying not to ogle. Daria thought she could stand it, but she could tell she was starting to blush. "It gets worse. This is Tom, and that’s Dick." They exchanged smiles all round.

"Surely you jest."

"I wish. And don’t call me Shirley. Sorry. We were uh.." Harry looked down at three dented soft drink cups and a big damp spot on the sand. "just going to get something to drink. Can I buy you a soda?"

Daria estimated these young men to be two or three years her senior, probably college students. The one called Dick was wearing an Auburn t-shirt sporting a big fierce tiger. Their age would increase Helen’s harelip index, the fact that they were cute would torque Quinn’s jaw, and if they were in college there was a good chance they had three-digit IQs and could speak in complete sentences. She wasn’t likely to do better any time soon. And, like Quinn had said, she could always throw them back. Engage Beach Bunny mode.

"I’d like that. But before we go, do you guys do beefcake? I’d like to get a couple of photos to torture my friends with."

"Do we do beefcake?!" grinned Tom, "We AM beefcake!" He and Dick each offered Daria a bulgy bicep to hang onto, and Harry did a low crouching pose in front.

Hesitantly, Daria adopted the appropriate curvy, hip out, one knee slightly bent pose in the center. "Mom, would you get my camera there and do the honors? Mom?"

Helen blinked twice, picked up Daria’s camera, and took the shot.

"How about the classic ‘Girl-overhead-on-surfboard" shot?’ suggested Harry. "Just pose like you’re lying on your side on a surfboard. Right hand on the side of your head, elbow up..."

"Like this?"

"Perfect! Now lean to your right and stiffen up..." before Daria could do more than gasp and widen her eyes, she felt multiple male hands grasp her bare flesh. She froze, which was the right thing to do in the circumstances. Harry took a grip on Daria’s upper left arm, put his other hand below her right armpit. Tom placed his hands above and below her right hip, and Dick lifted her legs. In a second they had hoisted her above head height.

Daria, not quite believing what she’d just done, came forward and took her camera from Helen, stuck it in her little drawstring purse, and grabbed her towel. Helen held out a hand. "Daria, that bikini..."

"Is the one Quinn picked out for me, as per your instructions. The one I thought was too skimpy."

"And what are you going to do now?"

"Just what you told me to a minute ago. Try to overcome my shyness and be a little more outgoing." She turned and walked back toward Harry, Dick, and Tom. "Okay, guys, I’m ready to outgo!"

Helen and Quinn stood watching the four walk away until something flew into Helen’s mouth, breaking the spell. Quinn grinned at her mother coughing and spitting for a second, then realized she didn’t have her bait in the water. She yelped "swimsuit!", turned and sprinted for the hotel entrance.

-----:{ }:-----

Quinn burst into the hotel room just as the bellhop was leaving, clawed open the smaller of her suitcases, and began digging frantically for her swimsuit. "Uuhhh! A fine time she picks to start taking my advice! I never thought she’d have the nerve! That’s not a swimsuit, it’s a freakin’ phaser! Freakin’ stuns every male within fifty feet and she just freakin’ walks up and grabs the cutest ones! I can’t compete with her in that thing! Oh, crap, did I just say that? About Daria? Aarrgh!"

Jake, somewhat startled by her energetic entrance, said "Hey, kitten! Where’s Daria?"

"She just ran off with half the guys on the beach! The cute half! She’s ruining my life again!"

"Gaah! My baby!" Jake ran out. Quinn was half undressed before she noticed that the door was standing open.

-----:{}:-----

As she approached the hotel, Daria spotted Helen lounging in a beach chair. She seemed to be conversing with a woman in the next beach chair. The closer Daria got, the more there seemed to be something familiar about this other woman. Now she was close enough to make out the woman’s features in the shadow cast by her floppy beach hat. It was Rita. "Oh. O-O-oh. Comes the dawn!"

For an instant, Helen looked like she’d been caught logged on to a porn site, but quickly recovered. "Daria! Look who I just ran into! Can you believe Rita and Erin are staying at the same hotel we are?" Her look dripped with pleading.

Daria set her autopilot to ‘Maintain Pleasant Facade’ while this new development was being analyzed. She waved and smiled at Rita. "Hi, Aunt Rita. It’s a small world after all, eh? How long have you been here?" Helen’s expression relaxed slightly.

"Just a couple of hours. We must have gotten in at almost the same time as you guys."

"What an amazing coincidence!" Daria shot Helen a look that could scrape barnacles at forty fathoms, then reclined in a chair on the other side of Rita.

"Really? I thought Mother might have mentioned to Helen that we were going to be here."

"Mom didn’t say anything to me about it. How have you been?"

"Oh, fine, fine! You look great in that bikini, Daria! And I know Erin’s going to want to know where you got the body art!"

"My friend Jane did it last night as sort of a consolation gift for me missing the museum trip we had planned. If she came down here for the summer, she could make a fortune."

"She certainly could. Helen was telling me you left with three young men earlier, and Quinn met someone shortly thereafter."

"Yes, they’ll be back around in a few minutes. Oh, hi, Quinn. I hear you met a young gentleman."

Quinn stalked up, a disgusted look on her face. She was wearing a rather demure two-piece green checked swimsuit with matching headband/kerchief, the top of which came up almost to her neck in front. (2) Casting an envious glance at Daria’s bikini, she replied, "I thought so at first, but he turned out to be a young octopus! What about your three guys, Daria? Did you have to ditch them too?" She seemed to be hoping that was the case.

"No, they’re very nice. They’re engineering and physics majors, down from Auburn for the day. I came back to get some sunblock. They all offered to slather me up, of course, but they didn’t have SPF 45." Daria reached over and drew her beach bag closer, extracted a white squeeze bottle from it, and began applying sunblock to her shoulders.

"So, what did you find to talk to physics majors about?"

"Physics, mostly. You know, Brownian movement, thrust vectors, the three body problem, wormholes, the Big Bang. Stuff like that." Daria smiled slightly at Quinn’s facial expression, which indicated misconceptions as to the nature of some of these topics. "Tell me, Aunt Rita, did your parents equate family bonding with long, arduous journeys, or did Mom get that somewhere else?"

"Well, as I recall, Dad would usually grab me and sit me on his lap and grill me. If that didn’t work, he’d resort to tickling. Mom’s favored technique involved baking brownies or gingerbread. Maybe Helen’s flashing back to her hippie days in that old VW microbus with Jake, Coyote, and Willow."

Daria looked over Rita at Helen, whose face was turning red. "As soon as we hit Lawndale, we’re getting you a case of brownie mix." Behind Helen she happened to notice Jake emerging from the hotel, clad in plaid swim trunks, unbuttoned hawaiian shirt and straw hat, and holding some beverage with a little umbrella in it. She quickly finished applying sunblock, put the bottle away, and donned her sun hat.

Daria wished her dad’s first look at her in this bikini could have been somewhere a bit more private, like for instance a stretch of howling wilderness, with him on one side of an impassable gorge, and her on the other. She lay back, crossed her ankles, and covered her face with the hat.

Jake walked up to Helen. "Hi, honey. I’m feeling better now. Sorry I got excited. Uh, has, uh, Daria come back yet? Oh, we have company! Pleased to meet you, Ms. uhh... GAAH!! RITA!! I mean, um, Hi, Rita, fancy meeting you here! How nice to see you!"

"And it’s always good to see you, Jake." Rita favored him with a lopsided smile. Helen favored him with a mild glare.

"And this lovely young lady must be Erin!" Jake ventured, attempting to regain lost ground. "You look spectacular in that bikini, Erin! Uhh, are those tattoos?"

"Jake, that’s not Erin." said Helen, giving Jake a very peculiar look.

Confused, and getting the distinct impression that Helen thought he should know this person, even with her face hidden, Jake ran through a list of possible identities for the mystery babe. It was a very short list, and none of the names held up. He decided to cut his losses and just ask. "Uhhh, do I know you, Miss?"

Daria sighed. "No, you don’t." She moved the hat down to uncover her face, simultaneously covering most of her chest, though she doubted this would help much. "Hi, Dad."

"G- G- Daria! Y- y- you’re w-... you’ve g- g- d- ... GAAH! Jake grabbed up a beach towel and was starting a lunge for Daria when he was stopped in his tracks by death glares from Helen, Daria, and Rita.

"Jake! Put that down! You’re making a spectacle of yourself, and you’re embarrassing Daria!" snapped Helen.

Jake stood trembling, eyes bulging, teeth clenched, paralyzed by indecision and cluelessness. Taking pity on him, Daria slipped on her beach cover-up, walked to a spot of empty sand between the beach chairs and the hotel, and motioned to him to come over.

"Save it, Dad. It’s ‘way too late. You can’t help me now."

"Huh? What are you talking about? What do you mean, running around almost naked? No daughter of mine..."

"Save it! You should have spoken up last Tuesday when Mom and I were arguing about this, and you ran and hid in the garage! You left me alone, she won, and now here I stand almost naked because that’s what she wants. You don’t think I’d not-quite-wear something like this by choice, do you?"

"I.. I wouldn’t have thought so... but why?"

"It turns out Mom set this whole thing up after Grandma Evelyn called and told her Rita would be here today."

"Aw, gee, that stinks! I’m sorry, kiddo! Uhh, what can I do to help?"

"Right now, nothing. Why don’t you just avoid Mom and Rita and do what you’d do if you were here by yourself. I’m going to have lunch with some nice boys I met. Quinn will probably bag some guy pretty soon. You know what Mom and Rita will be doing. Have fun at the beach. If you can help me later, I’ll let you know."

"Just one thing, Daria. Please tell me those aren’t tattoos!"

Daria smiled up at her father. "They’re not tattoos, Dad. Jane drew them on with marker pens. They’ll be gone in three days." She turned and went back to her beach chair. Jake headed back to the hotel for another nerve tonic.

Daria spotted Erin returning from the water in a royal blue bikini. Her hair was done up under her sun hat, except for a couple of ringlets framing her face. She looked really good, but pensive. Daria got the impression that Erin would be more comfortable today on a more deserted stretch of beach, idly searching for pretty seashells. She wondered where Brian was, and recalled that she’d heard no mention of him.

Tom, Dick, and Harry walked up. Daria introduced them around. Helen’s pleasant smile mismatched her eagle-eyed gaze. Quinn gushed, then caught herself. Erin showed a trace of amusement at this.

"Does this place we’re going have a dress code?" asked Daria.

"The Claw is right on the beach, and anything that’s okay on the beach is okay inside." Dick replied.

"The Claw?" inquired Helen.

"It’s a seafood restaurant about a block that way." said Tom. "They’re known for their steamed crabs."

Daria checked to make sure Jake was out of sight, then removed her cover-up and hung it on the back of her beach lounge chair. She pulled the sunblock out of her beach bag. "Could anyone put some of this on my back?" she inquired, and immediately had three volunteers.

Pining for her three J’s, Quinn watched them go. "Mom, can I borrow your card for a little bit? I need a new swimsuit."

"Quinn, that’s ridiculous. That suit looks fine on you, and this is only the second time you’ve worn it. Now is the time to be enjoying the beach, not shopping."

"But Mo-omm! It’s so junior miss! It makes me look like a little kid! It’s ruining my life!"

"Quinn, you are not going to scour the strip looking for a bikini skimpier than Daria’s! You’re too young. Anyway, it’s time for lunch. Go find your father, and don’t say anything to set him off again! I could kick your.."

As Quinn trudged off bewailing her ruined life, Rita remarked, "Daria seems very comfortable and self-assured around those college boys. Didn’t you say she was a bit shy?"

Helen turned and looked at the retreating figure of her daughter, such of it as could be seen past her solicitous male companions. She blinked a few times and smiled an uncertain smile. "I guess I was wrong about that."

-----:{}:-----

Daria stared out to sea. There was remarkably little of the sea to see on a moonless night like tonight. The beachside lights of the hotels dimly illuminated the sand and the lines of foam on the wavelets that softly caressed the shore, but the water was so calm tonight that there weren’t any waves steeply angled enough to throw reflections back to her here on the beach. The horizon was indicated only by where the stars stopped, and by the tiny yellowish lights of a solitary distant vessel.

The night sea breeze gently caressed her cheek and toyed with her hair. The near solid wall of hotels and the lateness of the hour muted the traffic noises on the strip, so that the chuckle and murmur of the tiny wavelets could actually be heard over them. Occasionally a large fish would announce its presence in the black water not far from shore. Blacker by far were Daria’s thoughts, and much too angry for this gentle, peaceful night.

Tom, Dick, and Harry had headed back to Auburn after dinner. Daria could return to the bosom of her family, or she could stare at the black sea and reflect on what she’d learned earlier and put aside for the afternoon. So here she was. Helen’s mother had called and, for whatever reason, told Helen that Rita and Erin would be here today. And Helen had, for whatever reason, instantly planned and initiated this reenactment of Sherman’s March to the Sea, killing, raping, pillaging and burning all in her path. Now, as the smoke cleared and the situation revealed itself to her, Daria felt very pillaged, raped, and burned.

What the hell had Rita ever done to Helen so bad that Helen felt the need to use Daria as a club to beat her with? If Helen hated Rita that much, why didn’t she just write her off and cut her out of her life? Or was something else involved? Or someone else? "Hell yes, there’s someone else involved- me! How can I get uninvolved? Who do I have to kill?" The squeak of sand told Daria of the approach of a foolhardy person with poor timing.

"Daria?"

silence

"Daria?" said Helen again. "Are you all right?"

"No."

"Daria, if I’d told you Rita was going to be here, it would have been even more difficult to get you to come."

"Well, of course! It would have been blatantly obvious to everyone that the only reason you wanted me along was for ammo in your lifelong battle to one-up Rita. But you knew it, you knew it was wrong, and you went ahead and did it to me anyway. How could you?"

"Is it so wrong for me to be proud of my daughters? To want to show them off? To brag on them?"

"No. Is it so wrong for you to dragoon me, yet again, for cannon fodder in your sibling wars? To wreck my long-established plans and force me to serve your jealousy-based whim? I’m not some Tiffany lamp you scored at an auction! I’m not a trophy! I’m a person!"

Only silence answered her, a silence Daria, at length, chose to break. "What I don’t get is, why? Rita is a thoroughly beaten foe. You have a successful career, a successful marriage, and two daughters, either of whom stacks up well against Erin. The only thing she has that you could possibly envy is her relationship with your mother, and that’s only by default, because you avoid her as much as possible."

Another, shorter silence ensued, this time broken by Helen. "Oh, Daria, you don’t understand. Rita was always the pretty one, the perky one, the popular one. I cared about human rights, Rita cared about the right handbag. I cared about starving children, Rita starved herself to stay thin. Mother told me I was being silly, and told Rita how pretty she was. I got the good grades, but Rita got the attention and encouragement."

"I don’t understand that?! Substitute the name Quinn for the name Rita, change a few details, and it’s the story of my life! I can’t believe you even said that!" Receiving no reply, Daria continued. "Surely there was a time when a young Helen Barksdale swore a mighty oath that she’d never treat her children the way she’d been treated. So what happened? Why are you doing this to me?" Daria continued to gaze out over the black ocean as she waited for a reply, but she heard only some sniffs and other small sounds vaguely indicating that Helen was upset. At length she spoke again.

"It looks to me like your real problem is not with Rita, but with your mother. You feel she owes you. Everything that Rita got, that you felt you deserved but didn’t get, she still owes you. You’re withholding your affection from her until she settles up. But she’s lonely. When you rebuff her, she turns to Rita for that affection, at least partly to try to make you jealous. She gives Rita her affection and money, and makes sure you know it, hoping you’ll show up for your share. But this makes you even more resentful, and drives you further away. I don’t think grandma understands that."

Helen broke her silence. "Daria, that is so... so perceptive! So dead on the mark! How do you do that?"

Daria turned to face Helen, her eyes moist. "It’s easy. It’s so horribly easy. We’re in the early scenes of that same play right now. I play you. Quinn plays Rita. You’re your mother. ‘Those who cannot learn from history are condemned to repeat it.’ Behold your future. Only I won’t let myself be jerked around like that. I’ll just cut you off cold." She turned and walked off down the dim narrow pathway of firm damp sand between land and sea, and gradually vanished into the night.

Helen stared unseeing into the darkness that had swallowed up her firstborn daughter, contemplating a future almost too bleak to contemplate. After several minutes, she turned and slowly began walking in the opposite direction along the line of farthest reach of the little wavelets.

Farther up the beach, at the line of flotsam that marked the day’s high tide, a larger lump shifted restlessly. It hugged its knees tightly, its long strawberry blonde hair stirring slightly with the sea breeze. Quinn’s sad eyes followed Helen’s receding form, then turned and vainly sought for Daria in the opposite direction. Finding nothing, they turned to the lights of the lone vessel far out at sea, creeping along the unseen horizon. "But I don’t want to be Rita!" she moaned softly into the noncommittal night.

Chapter 5

SHOWDOWN at the SEASIDE BAR AND GRILL

An hour later a tired and wrung-out Daria approached the seaside entrance of her hotel. The fine dry white sand seemed to suck the last of the strength from her weary legs. The hard concrete patio was a relief when she finally reached it. Entering the lobby, she paused and put a hand to her forehead, trying to remember their room number.

"Daria!"

Daria turned toward the sound of her name. Helen arose from a settee beside a potted palm and came toward her. Daria turned away, slumping against the side of the arched entryway.

"Daria, we need to talk." Helen held out Daria’s cover-up.

Daria handed Helen the beach towel from around her waist, accepted the cover-up and put it on, not caring whether anyone was watching. "Mom, I’m very tired."

"I’m tired too, honey, but we can’t just leave this where it is. Neither of us would get any sleep tonight."

"Speak for yourself. I’m used to going to sleep racked with disappointment, resentment, and bitterness. I do it all the time. I have no choice."

"Daria!" Helen looked wounded. Deep down, Daria felt a little bit ashamed. But not very. It was true, after all.

"All right, so talk."

"Let’s go in here. It’s more private and I could use a drink." Helen steered Daria toward the hotel lounge.

-----:{ }:-----

Jane sat alone at a restaurant table, shuffling through the art postcards she’d bought earlier while waiting for the dinner she’d ordered. She’d enjoyed the art museum, but she knew she’d have enjoyed it much more with Daria. Daria appreciated art almost as much as Jane, even though she couldn’t paint as well. Daria would have appreciated Jane’s commentary on the artists and their styles and techniques and Jane would have enjoyed Daria’s droll observations on the paintings, the artists’ mental quirks, their fellow patrons, and whatever else her rapier wit might skewer.

Jane sighed, shook her head sadly, and wondered what Daria was doing now. Probably not eating dinner. It was after eight. Jane paused at the postcard of ‘The Absinthe Drinker’ by Degas, a melancholy scene in a tavern or bar, very brown. Daria would probably know exactly what Absinthe was. The disturbingly unbalanced composition focused on an almost-pretty young woman seated demurely at a table with a stemmed glass of cloudy off-white liquid in front of her, and a totally spaced-out non-expression on her face, overlaying some terrible sadness.

Jane shuffled to the next postcard. Also titled ‘The Absinthe Drinker’, this was an early Picasso in the Impressionist style depicting an old, vulture-like woman with incredibly claw-like hands, glaring intently into a glass of evil-looking green liquor and toying with a sugar lump.

Jane looked from one painting to the other. They somehow suggested Daria and Helen to her. Jane was disturbed to realize that she wasn’t sure which suggested who, or why.

-----:{ }:-----

Inside the lounge, Helen signaled to a waiter and they slid into a dimly lit booth. Daria said "I’ll have a coke. You have what you were going to have plus a shot of bourbon." At Helen’s shocked look she said, "Well, what did you expect? You drink. Dad drinks. You’re both former drug-crazed hippies. I never had a chance." Helen’s expression became even more shocked, then very sad. She looked like she was going to cry.

Daria relented. "I shouldn’t have said that. Up to now I’ve only had a taste, a couple of times. I’m very protective of my brain cells. But if this talk is going to accomplish anything useful I need to mellow out some, and I left my herb garden at home. I’m still in a foul mood."

After a moment a waiter came over. Helen said "I’ll have a Jack Daniels Black, neat, and a sloe gin sling." The waiter nodded, wrote on his pad, and turned to Daria. "Coke, please." The waiter said "Right away." and left.

Helen rubbed her face and looked at her daughter. "All right, where are we?"

"We’re at the beach, so you can accidentally run into Rita and rub her nose in how financially well off you are, how stable your marriage is, how beautiful Quinn is, and how smart I am. To achieve this, you’ve wrecked important long-standing plans of mine and Jane’s, made it painfully obvious that you don’t respect me as a person, and trashed our relationship for the foreseeable future."

"Is it really that bad?"

"As of now, my plans are to tolerate you till I’m through college, then never see nor speak to you again. In other words, to use you like you’re using me while I need you, but then to cut you out cleanly so you won’t be a continuous thorn in my side like your mother is to you."

Helen looked like she’d been punched in the gut. Tears ran down her cheeks. Daria pretended to study a snack menu. Then Helen quickly wiped her eyes with a napkin as she saw the waiter approach with the drinks.

After the waiter had left, Daria unwrapped her straw and stuck it in her coke, still not looking at Helen. She took a long sip, then just stared at the crushed ice on top for a while, prolonging a chance moment with no clear thought in her head. Then looking around to be sure the bartender wasn’t watching, she picked up the shot glass, emptied half its contents into the coke, and set it back down. She stirred the coke with the straw, then tasted it. The bourbon definitely added a complex, pleasant flavor to the cola.

Daria looked up at Helen, who was taking a large swallow of her reddish pink thing, a fresh tear starting down her cheek. This was taking too long. She lifted the shot glass and downed the rest of its contents. Almost immediately, her brain felt like it was being gently sloshed around in a bucket. She swayed slightly, grabbed the edge of the table, and blinked. This must be the origin of the term "sloshed". "Damn." she said.

Helen looked at her with an unreadable expression on her face. "Strong?" she asked.

"Yeah, but that’s not what I was damning."

"What, then?"

"I like it."

"Huh?"

"I just found out I like the taste of Jack Daniels straight. I didn’t need to know that." She felt a tear slide down her own cheek.

"Oh, sweetie..." Helen looked like she was about to grab Daria and try to hug her over the table. Daria pulled back and glared at her. "Don’t you sweetie me, you user!"

Looking as if her heart were about to break, Helen said, "Daria, is that really the way you want it? To never see me again?"

"Of course not. If it were, I’d be up in the room asleep, instead of down here sacrificing my brain cells." Daria sipped coke through the straw. "Och, brrain cells, I harrdly knew ye." she mumbled, then glared at Helen again. "But I’m tired of being used, taken for granted, trampled underfoot, and misunderstood. If that’s not the way you want it, things have to change. What you did was wrong."

Helen started to say something, thought better of it. "All right. What I did was wrong. I ignored your desires and feelings. I ignored your rights. I brought you here to show you off to Rita. I should have let you go ahead with your plans. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?"

Daria looked at her mother and smiled a tiny bit. There was still hope. "if you’re sorry, are you willing to make restitution?"

"Well... yes. What do you mean by restitution?"

"Three things. Treat me right, restore what you took from me, and compensation for treating me wrong. A peace offering, if you like. Or damages."

"How do I treat you right? What do you mean by that?"

"Treat me like I’m me, Daria. A unique human being, valuable and valued in my own right. I’m not a brainy but socially retarded Quinn, in need of a makeover, a new wardrobe, and charm school."

"Daria, I’m very well aware that you’re unique. I do love you and value you for who you are. It isn’t wrong for me to want you to be more attractive."

"YES, DAMMIT, IT IS!!" Daria glared bloody violent demise across the table. Her hands twitched for Helen’s throat. Her canines glinted in the dim light. Helen recoiled from the vehemence more than the volume of Daria’s outburst, realizing immediately that she’d struck a major raw nerve.

"Alright, dear, alright! Tell me what’s wrong with it!" Helen made down-boy motions at her daughter, who struggled to get her rage pent up again.

Daria glanced around, noted with surprise that no one was staring at her. She took a long sip of bourbon-flavored coke and a deep breath. "It’s wrong because you always just say it like that and leave it there, like it was a self-evident universal truth, totally obvious and requiring no further discussion. "Be More Attractive." Attract what? From where? For what purpose? You never discuss, never specify, never explain. So discuss already."

The waiter came over, and Helen made the "another round" gesture. "Well, boys, of course, Daria. You’re a very pretty and interesting teenage girl, and you should be dating at your age."

"Boys. From where?"

"Well, from school, sweetie. Must we belabor the obvious?"

"The only thing obvious here is the fact that you’ve never thought this through. And yes, we must belabor it. We’re going to run it down and beat it to death, once and for all, and then we’re never going to speak of it again. Right?"

Helen returned Daria’s glare. "We’ll see. Proceed."

"There are at Lawndale High five male students intelligent enough to be potential dates for me, theoretically. Two have such serious psychological problems that they date no one, and no one wants to date them. A third simulates an equally serious set of mental disorders as a defense mechanism. This works so well that he is the most despised student at school. The fourth is Michael Jordan MacKenzie, honor student and captain of the football team. Jodie Landon’s boyfriend. The fifth is Ted DeWitt-Clinton, who dated and dumped me. All the rest are my intellectual inferiors to such a great extent that we have practically nothing in common.

So. There is no one at Lawndale High I would want to date. There is no point in my attracting boys if I’m not going to date them. Therefore I deliberately minimize my attractiveness. It saves time, energy, and misunderstandings all around. Do you understand?"

"I see what you’re saying, Daria, but you could be driving away some bright, interesting boys you don’t know about yet. It’s not like you have everyone’s IQ scores on file."

"But I do."

"What?"

"I have everyone’s IQ scores on file. And SATs. And P-STATs."

"Daria, are you pulling my leg? And if not, where and how did you get them?"

"I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might tend to incriminate me."

"Oh, great. I’ve raised a criminal mastermind."

The waiter brought the second round of drinks. Helen asked, "What are you doing with all those scores?"

Daria looked down at her coke and said nothing. Her shoulders slumped a bit.

"Daria?"

"Looking for potential dates." Daria said softly. She paused but didn’t look up. "In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. But in the land of the stupid, the smart chick is lonely as hell." She took a sip of bourbon, showed no reaction.

"Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry! It’s nice to know you’re interested, but you’re going about it in such a clinical way! Boys aren’t lab rats, you know. Those numbers don’t tell you everything! And even if they did, it couldn’t hurt you to be a little more attrac-

"YES, DAMMIT, IT COULD!! $#;+! You did it again!!" Daria glared balefully at her mother, trying to decide how much of her look of wounded innocence was genuine. "Look, ‘attractive’ doesn’t mean the same as ‘well-dressed’ or ‘sharp’ or ‘presentable’. When you say ‘Be more attractive’ don’t you see that you’re really saying ‘Tear down your defenses and commence mating behaviors’? Well, I’m not gonna do that without a damn good reason! I put a lot of time and effort into my armor, and it works for me, and I’m keeping it until I don’t need it any more, or until I have a really good reason to take it off!"

"But Daria, honey, don’t you see that as long as you wear that repulsive outfit, you have no chance of meeting any bright boys that may come along, from wherever? That’s a high price to pay for repelling the stupid ones."

"That’s not true. It doesn’t work on the bright ones, just the dullards. Mack MacKenzie and I are friends. He sees through my disguise. He knows I’m not homely. And the smartest guy in school is constantly bugging me for dates."

"What? Why haven’t I heard about this? Why don’t you date him?"

"Picture Austin Powers, you know, from the spy movie? Picture him with curly orange hair, and even more obnoxious. Now combine that with one of those neurotic little dogs that runs up and humps your leg. That’s Upchuck. I’m not that lonely."

"Upchuck?"

"Charles Ruttheimer the third. The aforementioned most despised student at Lawndale High. Look, I think you saw today that I can be attractive if I want to, and that I can hold the interest of men who are interesting to me. From now on, you leave it to me decide when, where, and whom to attract. Agreed?"

Helen sighed. She couldn’t believe she had lost on this point. "All right, Daria. Agreed."

"Moving on, then. ‘Treat me right’ also means don’t spend ten times as much money on Quinn as you do on me."

Helen felt a sinking sensation in her net worth. She was almost guaranteed to lose here. "I believe you’re exaggerating, Daria."

"I don’t claim to have the exact multiple at my fingertips. But in the interests of fair play, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind going back over the last, say, four years, toting up what you spent on each of us, and equalizing things with a cash payment to the slighted offspring, whoever she might turn out to be?"

The sinking feeling became a giant sinkhole opening up beneath Helen’s financial edifice. "Daria, I can’t do that."

"AHA!" Daria pointed an accusing finger. "You’ve just admitted that you know it’s true, and that you have a pretty good idea of the magnitude of the discrepancy." Her eyes bored into Helen’s. "The magnitude of the injustice."

Helen squirmed internally. Daria had well and truly nailed her. The bourbon didn’t seem to be affecting her mental sharpness at all. Did the kid have a hollow leg? "What do you want me to do, Daria?"

"For now, just admit that the problem exists, and agree to do something. This will take more and clearer thought to resolve than we can give it tonight. And remember, you’re on both sides of this one. Your mother owes you a lot more than you owe me. Think about it from that perspective. And there’s no time like the present to start equalizing your outlays. Either spend more on me, or less on Quinn, or a bit of both, starting now."

"Even that’s going to be tough. You know how important clothes are to Quinn, and you’re almost allergic to them."

"My cabin fund is very important to me. And I’ll be needing a new wardrobe for college. I’ll get a new piggie and start a clothing fund."

"You? New clothes?"

Daria gave her mother a ‘sarcasm detected’ look. "At whatever college I go to, the students will range from ‘bright’ upward. I won’t need to repel people like that. Just don’t expect me to join the Harvard Fashion Club."

"Oh! My heart! The shock!" Helen clutched her chest and swayed.

"Ha, ha. The point isn’t what the money gets spent on, but that I don’t get shafted."

"That’s a good point, Daria, but not the only one I have to consider. Allowances are for motivation, not just money distribution.

"You might want to consider rewards for grades. A lot of parents do that."

"You’d certainly be getting the lion’s share of that, but you don’t need any encouragement to get good grades."

"Quote: I got the good grades, but Rita got the attention and encouragement. Unquote. You know the result of that. Do you suppose that if Quinn saw me being rewarded for my academic performance, her grades might improve? Especially if she needs that money for clothes?"

"It’s certainly worth considering. Like you said, the subject needs more thought than we can give it tonight. What else?"

"Treating me right also means never doing this to me again. Or anything resembling this."

"Don’t worry. After the last few days, and today in particular, I wouldn’t dream of it."

"I went a lot easier on you than I’d planned to, you know."

"I noticed you behaved very decently when you saw me talking with Rita, and I appreciate that."

"I could have burned you so bad right then."

"I wondered why you didn’t."

"I’m not sure. Maybe I was afraid it would burn our bridge. Maybe I’ve absorbed some of your attitude toward her. Mostly, I didn’t see any long-term benefits for any of us in handing her a big win. But now I’m worried that I might be handing you a win. I think I impressed Rita, and here you’re getting your bonding, in a mean drunk sort of way. I sure as hell don’t want to encourage you to try this again."

"You needn’t worry. This is a lot more like plea bargaining than bonding, and I have a feeling that I’m not out of the woods yet. I do solemnly swear that I will never again pressgang you to fight in my sibling wars. Okay?

"I’ll take that as coming from my mother, rather than from a conniving weaselly lawyer. On that basis... okay."

"Great. Now what do you want me to restore?"

"The museum trip."

"Gladly. But you said you could never get that back because Jane has seen the museums now."

"I had an idea. I’ve heard that Chicago has a very nice set of museums."

Helen straightened up and blinked a couple of times. "But it’s so far away!"

"Jane has a cousin who lives in one of the Chicago suburbs; Wheaton, I think. She could help us if something came up."

Helen looked at Daria, thinking.

"It wouldn’t be too expensive if I had a good reliable car."

Helen smiled. "I’d love to have you on my negotiating team. It sounds doable. Now I wonder what you might have in mind for that peace offering."

"The car."

Helen gave a wry smirk. "I’m a little tapped out right now, dear."

"You and Dad were going to buy me a car, weren’t you?"

"For your birthday, or Christmas, we hadn’t decided."

"So you’d just be moving up the timetable a little. You wouldn’t be out anything extra, other than a replacement birthday present."

"I’ll talk to your father and see what we can do. But you did put a sizeable hole in my discretionary cash."

"Umm... tactically, this is dead wrong, but... the telescope I ordered wasn’t exactly the telescope I designed. I could squeeze some money out there, and still get the performance I want."

"The telescope you designed? You didn’t order it out of a catalog?"

"No, they’re going to build it to my specifications. I designed the optical system to give the best combination of magnification and rich field for my purposes, while using reasonably priced off-the-shelf eyepieces and minimizing the aberrations common to Newtonian reflectors, particularly coma. And I designed the focusing system to..."

Helen’s eyes glittered. "Darling, where did you learn to design astronomical telescopes?"

"Out of books. Once you understand the principles, it’s mainly a matter of keeping track of interrelated factors and..."

"Daria sweetie, I really want to hear this, but it is getting late, and we are tired, and... do you think you could tell us about it in the morning over breakfast?"

Daria read Helen’s expression carefully. "Would ‘us’ perchance include Rita?"

Helen’s expression took on an easily read look of pleading. "Yes, dear. Us would."

Daria smiled wryly. "Sure, why not? We’re in agreement on the matters we were discussing?"

"Yes, Daria. Fair and equal treatment. Trip to Chicago. Car. You can start looking for one when we get back."

"Great. And of course, you wouldn’t try to sneak the cost of the car, the trip, or my credit card purchases into the financial equality calculations."

"Daria! You’re killing me!"

"Hey, you know how things like that can breed resentment in a mother-daughter relationship. Besides, we’ll make your mother pay for it. And besides besides, you just got back your invitation to my wedding and your grandma’s license."

Leaving the rest of her drinks, Daria slid out of the booth. Helen met her with open arms and wrapped her in a hug. "Oh, darling, I’m so glad we got this straightened out!"

"Hey, get a room!" Daria groused weakly, too tired to flinch away.

"Good idea." Helen laughed, throwing an arm around Daria’s shoulders. They tottered toward the elevator together.

Chapter 6

ON THE BLOODY MORNING AFTER

Daria became aware of a soft bustle of activity around her. She thought she detected morning sunlight through her closed eyelids. She was in a bed, lying on her side... and she was not alone. Her leg was thrown over someone else’s leg, and her hand was on someone else’s chest. Oh, hell. What had she done? Please let this not be Tom, Dick, or Harry. Or some drunken sailor from the bar. Or... damn! Who could it be that wouldn’t be awful?

She heard a whisper, and her bedmate’s chest moved in time to the words: "But, Mo-om! She’s all over me!" It was Quinn. Huge relief. Daria’s world picture reoriented around this information. She gave no sign of awakening.

"Just a little longer, dear. She had a rough night."

Uh-oh. Evil Daria was whispering in her ear now. This was wicked. She really shouldn’t. Quinn hadn’t done anything awful to her recently. But hey, she was supposed to be having fun.

Daria mumbled a bit, very low. Quinn turned her head toward her, listening. Daria said, "mmhmm, Sandi", then paused a bit, then repeated "Sandi."

Quinn hesitated, whispered "Yeah?"

Daria mumbled some more, very quietly. Quinn moved her head closer to Daria’s. Daria mumbled "’member Saturday?"

Daria wished she could see Quinn’s face now, but she continued to feign sleep. Moving her lips very close to Quinn’s ear, she whispered "Remember, Sandi?"

Quinn whispered "Yeah?"

Smiling a bit, Daria murmured languidly, "mhmm, let’s do it again!" as she stuck her tongue in Quinn’s ear and moved her hand up to Quinn’s...

"NAAAAAH!!" Quinn vaulted out of bed and began brushing at her chest and ear as if roaches were crawling on her. Then she grabbed a pillow and began whomping Daria with it.

Pretending to be just waking up, Daria cried "Aah! Hey! Cut it out!" as she rolled off the bed to the floor on the other side, wearing a sleepy, confused, frightened look.

Helen turned around from the mirror. "Quinn! Stop hitting your sister! I thought I asked you to let her sleep!"

"But Mo-oomm! She touched my..." Quinn waved a hand vaguely about her thoracic region. "And then she... Uuhhh!"

Helen looked at Daria, who shook her head and shrugged confusedly, then back to Quinn. "She was asleep, Quinn! Don’t be so hypersensitive! After all, she’s your sister! Now apologize to her!"

Quinn glared at Daria, who maintained her expression of wounded innocence. Quinn pouted, then said "I’m sorry I hit you with a pillow.", muttering under her breath "I should’ve used a chair leg."

"Daria, would you like the next turn in the bathroom?" asked Helen.

Daria rubbed her head. "Might as well. Can’t sleep now." Daria got up and ambled toward the door that opened onto the balcony, stretching as she went. She was amused to note that Quinn carefully stayed beyond her reach.

-----:{ }:-----

Daria had hoped to hit the hotel’s breakfast bar and load up on honeydew melon and strawberries, but a consensus had formed in favor of one of the local pancake hells. Daria had managed to order some strawberries with a Belgian waffle. Now they were awaiting their orders.

Quinn was describing a ride about a half mile down the strip. "...And there are bungee cords hanging from the towers, and a cage hanging between the bungee cords, and one or two people get in, and they cock it, and it shoots them like five hundred feet in the air! You can hear them screaming a mile away! Like, who in their right mind would get into that?!"

"The giant slingshot? I rode it. Three times. Once each with Harry, Dick, and Tom. I was terrified, but they insisted."

"Gosh, I wonder why they’d do that." Quinn mused, giving Daria a sideways look.

"Beats me. All I did was scream and hang onto them for dear life. You’d think that would be annoying. After I went with Harry, I figured Tom and Dick would have gone together. But maybe they didn’t want to be photographed in that cage with each other, or something." Rita and Erin smirked at each other, and at Daria, who sent them a wink. Helen was smiling a little, seemingly in spite of herself.

Quinn looked a teensy bit annoyed. "Jeez, Daria, it sounds like you acted like Brittany all day. You’re not secretly a blonde, are you?"

Rita and Erin gave Quinn dirty looks. Helen said "Quinn!" and managed not to smirk.

Quinn, realizing her faux pas, said "Oops, sorry! Figure of speech." and put on her most disarming oopsie face.

Daria smirked at her sister. "I was just trying to follow your advice, Quinn. Remember, you said I should turn off my brain and be a beach bunny for a few hours. I found I couldn’t turn it off, so I settled for acting like you."

"Well, you can’t go wrong there, if you get it right."

Helen said "Daria, what was that you started telling me last night about designing your own telescope?"

Daria started drawing on a paper napkin. "Well, I decided to go with a medium-sized Newtonian reflector because it’s the best choice for faint deep-sky objects, and it gives the most performance for the money. Most of the commercially available reflectors in the ten-to-sixteen inch range are f 4.5s. They give what’s called a richest-field view with a 32mm eyepiece. But they have problems with coma, which is a smearing of star images toward the edges of the field. I calculated that an f 5.7 mirror would give me a richest-field view with a 40mm eyepiece, which are as readily available as 32mm. A mirror of that f ratio has almost no coma, and gives me higher magnification for planets and asteroids, but doesn’t result in an unmanageably long tube. So I ordered one custom made." Daria finished the sketch, passed it to Rita, and started another one. Rita saw a little Daria figure standing next to something resembling a siege mortar, substantially larger than she was.

"Then I designed the focusing system to move up and down the side of the tube instead of in and out at right angles to it, the way it is on every other Newtonian. That lets me keep the bottom end of the eyepiece as close as possible to the diagonal mirror at all times without intruding into the light path, so I can use the smallest possible diagonal and minimize the obstruction and light loss it causes. That necessitates having the diagonal move up and down with the focuser." When the coffee and juice arrived, she was pointing to the diagram and talking about bowlegged spiders eliminating diffraction spikes.

Jake seemed fascinated. Helen was beaming. Rita, Erin, and Quinn were goggling, more or less. Rita asked, "So when will it be ready?"

"There’s a five month backlog. The actual work will only take a couple of weeks, maybe a little more for polishing the mirror. After it arrives, as soon as I get it collimated and get familiar with it, I’ll call you guys and we can have a star party." Rita was making vaguely agreeable noises when the pancakes started to arrive.

-----:{ }:-----

Daria gazed out her window at the scenery rolling by. They were past the dunes and the bays, headed back homeward through piney woods. The only things that still bespoke proximity to the ocean were the twisted, snaky branches of some of the pine trees and the palmetto scrub that grew between them.

It hadn’t been as bad as she’d feared, aside from finding out that the whole huggermugger had been instigated by Grandma Evelyn. She’d cleared up some stuff with Helen that had needed to be cleared up, and her demands had been acceded to at the peace conference. And she had had a good time with Harry, Tom, and Dick.

It bothered her, though, that that good time had come as a result of her wearing that skimpy bikini and being outgoing and... attractive. She’d known she could be attractive if she wanted, and now she had proof. Good. But the idea that she’d yielded to coercion and good things had come of it... Well, she hadn’t actually been coerced, she’d decided to do it for tactical reasons, and it had had an unexpected side benefit. Yes, that was it. Dammit.

There was still more discussion required with her mother, though, and then there was that huge can of worms that was Helen’s relationship with her mother and her sisters. Daria wondered if any of them would live long enough to get that completely straightened out. She had a sudden image of a bent, old figure in a cemetery, shaking a cane and cursing feebly at gravestones. Probably not, since Helen had some serious issues with her father, who was no longer available for discussions.

Daria looked over at Helen, with whom she was sharing the back seat on the return trip. "Mom, what happened to drive you to play this "My stuff’s better than your stuff" game with Rita?"

"Hmm?"

"It seems to be very important to you, almost a compulsion. Is it because your father bought her a sports car and bought you a... what was it?"

"A Dodge Dart." Helen said it like she would have said "dog fart", with an appropriate facial expression.

After a short silence, Daria tried again. "Did it maybe have to do with you getting her hand-me-down clothes? I notice you don’t make Quinn wear my hand-me-downs."

Helen stifled a laugh. "Not since she’s been old enough to notice, anyway. And your hand-me-down production has been pretty sparse of late."

Daria stayed on track. "Or was it something else? Something that happened when you were very young?"

Traces of bad old memories flickered across Helen’s face. "Goodness, Daria, there were a lot of things that happened when I was young. We had the usual fights and arguments, and Rita picked on me because she was bigger, and I did sneaky things to get back at her, and all of that, but I can’t remember one particular thing like you’re asking about. Do you really think I’m that driven?"

"Well... yeah. Look what just happened. Your mother calls and tells you whatever she told you, and you immediately launch this expedition and... you know. What made you do that?"

Helen fidgeted and looked uncomfortable. "It just occurred to me that it would be a good opportunity for all of us to spend some time together! Does there have to be more to it than that?"

"O-o-o-kay! Well, nice talking with you, Cleopatra."

"What?"

"As in ‘Queen of Denial’."

"Honestly!" Helen redirected her attention out her window.

After the silence had dragged for a while, Daria shrugged and said "You know, we didn’t actually wind up spending much time together. We kind of went our separate ways when we hit the beach. The most time we all spent together was breakfast at Waffle Awful, if we’re counting Rita and Erin. Otherwise it would be in the car going to and from."

"Well, that’s not so bad, is it? Oh, wait. I withdraw the question."

Daria smirked a little. "It just occurs to me that we could be having this conversation with the car sitting in the driveway, and Dad could turn around and get in on it, and we’d save a lot of gas. For that matter, there’s that nice sofa and love seats in the family room. If we’re going to do all our family bonding and life-catching-upping down by the sea or in the middle of the forest, why have a family room at all?"

Helen grimaced. "Honestly, Daria, you ask the strangest questions."

Daria smiled Helen a Mona Lisa smile and said nothing.

"Ohhh! I just think that when we all go somewhere new together, do something different as a family, it enhances the experience and makes it easier to talk and share and grow closer to one another. Is that so hard to understand?"

"Not a bit. That’s exactly why Jane and I wanted to see those museums together."

Helen lowered her head, put a hand to her forehead. "How long are you going to beat me over the head with that?"

"That wasn’t my intention. I’m just saying that I grasp the concept."

"Does that mean you might consider doing something like that with me someday?"

Daria looked at her mother and smiled a genuine smile. "I’d love to. In fact, we could do exactly that. I’d still like to see those museums. We could even invite whosis and whatserface up front there, if you think we could drag them into a museum without wild horses."

Helen smirked. "Maybe if I told Jake it was an auto show..."

Daria added "And Quinn that it was a fashion show..."

Quinn said, "I heard that."

Helen said "Maybe just the two of us." She shared a smirk with Daria.

After a period of companionable silence, Daria ventured "You know, competing against Rita as a child helped make you what you are today- successful, aggressive, a fierce competitor, driven to excel. Did you ever consider thanking her?"

Helen grimaced. "Honestly, Daria, you ask the strangest questions."

Daria smiled Helen another Mona Lisa smile.

La la LA la la.

NOTES

Disclaimer

 "Daria" and all related characters are trademarks of MTV Networks, a division of Viacom International, inc. The author does not claim copyright to these characters or to anything else in the "Daria" milieu; he does, however, claim copyright to all those parts of this work of fiction which are original to him and not to MTV or to other fanfic authors. This fanfic may be freely copied and distributed provided its contents remain unchanged, provided the author's name and email address are included, and provided that the distributor does not use it for monetary profit. (as if.)