"Daria" is owned and copyrighted by MTV. All rights reserved. This is *not* an episode, but the best imitation of an episode that I could write. Thanks to the creators of "Daria" for providing so much rich material for fanfics.... This is the tenth episode of The Driven Wild Universe. It follows 1) "Rose-Colored Lenses," 2) "The Tie That Chokes," 3) "That Thing You Say," 4) "'Shipped Out," 5) "Andrea Speaks!", 6) "Cheered Down," 7) "None in the Family, Part One," 8) "None in the Family, Part Two," and 9) "Outvoted." I've been channeling Peter Guerin as of late. The title of my last fanfic sounded like one of his ("Outvoted"/ "Outbitched"), and *both* were about Sandi. And the title of this fic shortens to O.A.V. Coincidence?? ;-) I give this one a..... *tah-dah* 1.5S! I never thought I'd see one of those again... So be happy you'll have less eyestrain this time around, and enjoy!! Ten Spot Promo: The one where those official guys are having a stare-down with the female spy. They try to tape record her, but she refuses to talk... [intro theme music...................] OF ABSOLUTE VALUE -- by Kara Wild ACT ONE SCENE 1 (Quinn's room, Morgendorffer house, evening) (Shot of the outside. We hear Quinn's voice-over: ) QUINN: (on the phone. fawning) Oh of *course* we would -- (Cut to close-up of Tiffany and Stacy sitting on the floor, watching Quinn off screen -- Stacy's eager and nervous, Tiffany's about as close to registering emotion as she possibly could be.) QUINN: (off screen) *Nothing* but the best for you and the gang, Mr. Reynaldo. (long Pause) Uh-huh... uh-huh... uh-huh... (Tiffany and Stacy glance at each other, cross their fingers. Pan over to show Quinn sitting on her bed, her ear against the cordless phone, looking fairly business-like and calm. Slowly her face brightens.) QUINN: Uh-*huh*? (gets a big smile.) Uh-*huh*?! (Pause. then, sounding as though she can barely contain her glee: ) *Yes*. I mean *no* -- we won't let you down. Talk to you soon. Bye. (clicks off the phone, looks at her underlings with a satisfied smirk.) It is done. (Cut to wide shot of all three. Tiffany smirks, while Stacy gets that hyperventilating look on her face.) STACY: (eyes practically popping out) You got him to sponsor the *Fashion Expo*?! The Fashion Expo's coming to OUR school??! QUINN: Yep. Now settle down St-- STACY: Whooo-*hoooo*!!! (She jumps up and grabs Quinn in a bear hug, practically knocking her backward. Meanwhile Tiffany's looking at her with definite respect.) TIFFANY: (obsequious) You're a genius, Quinn. QUINN: (nonchalant) Duh. (peels Stacy off of her.) It was *nothing*, really. You just gotta know how to talk the talk, *butter* 'em up and stuff. STACY: But Sandi tried a *gazillion* times to get the Fashion Expo to come, and it never worked out. (Quinn smirks -- Stacy has just unwittingly said exactly what she wanted to hear.) QUINN: (faux humble) Yes, well *some* people just aren't blessed with that natural capability. We really shouldn't *blame* the poor girl. STACY: Yeah. (Bt) I wonder how she's managing as vice-president. (Quinn's smirk fades.) TIFFANY: This'll make our school, like, the fashion center of the *whole* district. STACY: Maybe even the county! (Bt) You're the best, Quinn. QUINN: (regaining her former glee) Aw, you guys. (Bt) Well with the Expo coming up in less than two weeks, we'll have to put in a *lot* of work -- (suddenly interrupted from off screen: ) HELEN: (calling) Quinn! (Quinn freezes, gets a wary look on her face. Tiffany and Stacy don't make a sound, hoping their silence will convince Helen that no one's there and make her stop calling. Nope.) HELEN: (off screen) Quinn! Get *down* here, young lady! JAKE: (off screen) *Yeah*, young lady, *get* down here!! HELEN: Jake -- I already said that! JAKE: (meek) Oh. Yeah, right. (Quinn sighs and rolls her eyes.) QUINN: Great. Those people who live with me *want* me for something. TIFFANY: Bummer. STACY: Shhhh, it'll be okay. (pats Quinn's arm reassuringly.) QUINN: (groaning) I'll be right back. (She jumps off the bed and heads for the door.) (cut to: ) SCENE 2 (living room) (Shot of Quinn coming down the stairs, looking extremely vexed. At the base, we see Helen and Jake standing there, equally pissed off.) QUINN: (not cowed by their demeanor) Whatever this is, could you, like, make it *fast*?? My friends are upstairs. HELEN: *Don't* use that tone of -- (Quinn sweeps past her and heads toward the couch -- she knows the drill.) um, sit... er... JAKE: (at the same time) *Yeah*, young *lady*, don't use that -- (watches her go.) um... yeah... (Cut to shot of the couches. Daria is sitting on the center couch, reading a newspaper. She lowers it ever-so-slightly to observe the action. Quinn flops down on the right hand couch and folds her arms.) QUINN: (to her parents, as they're coming over) Is this about my date last night?? 'Cause if so, I'm *telling* you that he wasn't, like, *thirty*. He just looks *very* mature for his age, and so he has a *job* an' some stock opt-- HELEN: *Quinn*. (sits down to the left of Daria, so she's between her and Quinn. Jake sits down on the other side of Quinn.) We'll discuss *that* later. Right now we're on the subject of your performance at school. QUINN: ("oh is *that* all?") What *about* it?? JAKE: Well, sweetie, your mom got a call this afternoon, and -- HELEN: *Jake*, I can speak for myself, thank you. (Bt) Yes, sweetheart, your math teacher phoned this aftern-- QUINN: What, Mr. *Phelps*?! (melodramatic) Does that man, like, *follow* me around an' *spy* on me so, like, whenever I'm having a good time, he can, like, come down on me with his *mean*, oppressive *rules* and demands??? DARIA: (deadpan) You mean make you *learn*? (Quinn glares at her.) HELEN: Quinn, he's concerned about your grade in math, and so are we. He said that you're in danger of *failing*, and he's arranged a parent-teacher conference to discuss your options. QUINN: Well great. So is that it? (starts to get up.) (Helen sighs heavily.) HELEN: I wish you would take these things more *seriously*, Quinn. QUINN: (flopping down again) Mo-om, things'll turn out fine, I promise. With some cramming on the final exam, I can pull myself back up to a C, no problem. DARIA: Nothing like an unshakable work ethic. HELEN: (serious. weary) Quinn, don't you ever give *any* thought to your future? QUINN: (exasperated) Of *course* I do! Duh! Like for instance, the Fashion Expo's coming to our school thanks to *yours* truly, an' -- HELEN: You *know* that's not what I'm talking about. (glances over at Jake, who's starting to nod off.) Jake, *back* me up! JAKE: (coming back to life) Oh -- erm... sure, hon. (Bt. to Quinn) She means *important* stuff, sweetie. QUINN: (looking wounded) But the Fashion Expo *is* important. (Bt) Maybe *you* don't care about fashion, but think of all those poor, pathetic *loser* girls who can finally find the role models they *need*. If afterward, we've touched *one* life, it'll have been worth it. DARIA: A new case of bulimia is born. QUINN: (oblivious) You wanna talk a bunch of *silly* numbers? Then let me tell you since *I* became Fashion Club president, fashion faux pas have dropped *twenty* percent to an all-time low, wearers of capri pants have *doubled*, pore cleansing purchases have *tripled*, and if I had to *count* all the people who -- HELEN: (curt) Quinn, *enough*. (Bt) I was talking about the *distant* future. QUINN: Huh? DARIA: The time when your hair can only get its bouncy cuteness out of a bottle. QUINN: (horrified expression) *Hgh*! I don't wanna think *that* far ahead! HELEN: (weary) Exactly what I thought you'd say. (Bt) You know, Quinn, I've always loved knowing that you lead a vibrant, *active* lifestyle -- but there *comes* a time when you have to reassess your priorities . Look at the *bigger* picture. I was hoping it would happen when we fixed your vision, but... I guess I was mistaken. (Quinn frowns, looking sort of hurt.) HELEN: But *don't* think you're getting away with anything. (sighs) Ugh, tomorrow I'll have to get my secretary to come down to your school and -- JAKE: (chuckling a little) Y' know it's funny: I'd been planning to take the afternoon *off* tomorrow... HELEN: (oblivious) -- I'd *hate* to lose her as back-up during a meeting with the partners, but family crises *always* come -- JAKE: (sort of mumbling) So I mean really... it'd be no trouble at all for me... to... HELEN: Let this be a *lesson* to you, Quinn, the next -- DARIA: Uh, *Mom*. (nods toward Jake.) HELEN: What?? (Pause) Jake? Is there something you wanted to say? (Beat) JAKE: I could, um, see Quinn's math teacher tomorrow. (Beat) HELEN: (discouraging tone) Now, Jake, are you sure you know what you're getting into? (Jake gets a slightly repentant look on his face, which both Daria and Quinn notice.) DARIA: Mom, perhaps you might recall what you and Dad talked about. HELEN: Talked about?? QUINN: (crafty expression) Yeah, Mom, let *Dad* go. JAKE: (pleading expression) Yeah, honey. Remember what you said -- that I could have more responsibility with the girls?? [*] see "None in the Family, Part Two" (Pause) HELEN: (looking uncomfortable) Oh. Right. I did say that, didn't I? (Bt) Well okay, Jakey, you can go in Marianne's place. You *do* know the way, right?? JAKE: *Know* the way?? (does an enthusiastic fist pump.) What kind of idiot d' you think I am?? I've been to our kids' school before! (fade-out. fade-in to: ) SCENE 3 (the next afternoon) (Shot of the outside of a high school. The sign outside reads "Cumberland High." We see Jake's car drive up to it. Cut to close-up of Jake, frowning and looking at the sign.) JAKE: Hmm, something's not quite right... (fade-out. fade-in to: ) SCENE 4 (Phelps's classroom, Lawndale High, a short time later) (Shot of Phelps seated at his desk with hands folded, a tray of tea and coffee goods beside him. As stated in "Andrea Speaks!" and "Cheered Down," he's a balding, fifty-something year old with an air of formality. On the whole, he looks very well-kept [even Quinn would find little fault with his grooming habits], and at present is wearing a Mr. Rogers-style cardigan over a vest, a starched white shirt, and a tie. His expression is pretty deadpan, but we can see impatience creeping up along the edges.) (Cut to shot of the outside of Lawndale High. We see the Lexus barrel up to the front and screech to a halt. The driver's side door flies open -- Jake jumps out and hastens toward the entrance.) (Cut to shot of Phelps. He eyes his watch, then sighs and starts to stand up. Suddenly, from off screen: ) JAKE: Wha-whoa wait! No need to leave, my good man, sit down. (Cut to wider shot. Jake rushes up to Phelps and shakes his hand, herky-jerky style.) JAKE: The name's Jake Morgendorffer -- Quinn Morgendorffer's father. Now what d' you say we get down to *business*? (He moves to sit down on top of a desk, but unfortunately is too heavy. The desk tips forward, sending Jake to the ground. Phelps watches this display with a raised brow.) PHELPS: (dry) I'm Alfred Phelps. And I'd all but given up on you. (Chuckling sheepishly, Jake picks himself up and squeezes himself into the desk chair with some difficulty.) JAKE: Eh-heh, *no*, I just got caught up in... um... (looks around the room, trying to change the subject.) Gee, this is *sure* a nice room you've got here. PHELPS: It's like all the others. (Bt) You don't *come* here very often, do you? JAKE: I do so! (Phelps gives him a penetrating look, which causes him to crumble.) Well I... once. (Phelps sighs.) PHELPS: You're like *so* many other parents, Mr. Morgendorffer. Too *consumed* by the grind of everyday life to give your children the time and energy they deserve. JAKE: Oh no, you've got me all wrong! I wouldn't've come here if I wasn't *one* hundred percent devoted to my kid. (pounds the desk for emphasis.) I'm ready to hear what you've got to say. (looks off to the side, notices the tray on Phelps's desk.) Ooh -- cookies! PHELPS: (sighing) Yes, help yourself. (Jake wiggles out of the desk and grabs a bunch, then sits back down, stuffing them one by one into his mouth.) They're called "English tea biscuits," actually. I take my tea in here instead of the lounge because I can't *tolerate* those other instructors -- with their *bulging* eyes, their whining, their *man*-hating... (shudders a little.) But now, Mr. Morgendorffer, let's begin disc-- Mr. Morgendorffer? (We see Jake stuffing the last of the biscuits into his mouth and licking the crumbs off of his fingers, oblivious.) PHELPS: Mr. *Morgendorffer*! (slaps his desk, scowls. Jake is startled back into alertness.) This is *serious*. Quinn's welfare is at stake. (Bt) You *do* realize that she's in danger of *failing*?? JAKE: (cowering a little) Um... as much as in her other classes? (Beat) PHELPS: (quiet exasperation) I wouldn't know. But what makes her slide in *my* class disturbing is that she's naturally gifted in the subject matter. JAKE: She *is*? (Bt. disbelief) You're talking about *Quinn*, right? PHELPS: (without bothering to acknowledge the question) She has a *talent* for working with numbers. Coordinating them, matching them, distributing them so that they form the *right* combinations. It's a talent not too many people have. (Beat) JAKE: This *is* Quinn, you're talking about?? I mean, not some *other* girl who just *looks* like Quinn? Not Dar-- PHELPS: Yes, Quinn. *Quinn*, Mr. Morgendorffer. She could *excel* in math if she ever put her mind to it, and from there, who knows where she could go?? All she needs is the proper *encouragement*. (pointed look at Jake as he says this.) JAKE: (still stunned) Wow, Quinn... PHELPS: A few months ago, I got my hopes up when, without explanation, she started attending class *regularly*. It was as if, for the first time, she actually *wanted* to be taught. She was focusing, absorbing, showing an amazing turn-around, and... needless to say, her plunge has upset me greatly. JAKE: Yeah. Um, I could see how it would. PHELPS: (raising a brow) But what's been damaged can be mended. Meaning, your daughter *could* pull herself up to a respectable grade by the end of this term. JAKE: (a little cowed by Phelps's intensity) Well, um, yeah. Sure, why not? I mean, if she's so smart, like you say... PHELPS: And perhaps *more*. JAKE: More? (Beat) PHELPS: At the end of the term, we math instructors hold our bi-annual entrance examination for Higher Algebra and Trigonometry. It's a class normally taught to juniors... but I think Quinn could make it in. Don't you? JAKE: (chuckling) But Quinn's only a sopho-- (gets it.) *ohhh*. (Beat) PHELPS: So I offer this to you as a challenge, Mr. Morgendorffer. Do your part as a parent. Sit with Quinn every night for at least an hour. And make *sure* she attends class each day. I'll do the rest. (Jake nods frantically. Phelps leans closer to him, looks him directly in the eye.) PHELPS: (slowly) If we work together, we can make Quinn realize her *full* potential. JAKE: (still nodding frantically) Right. Of course... PHELPS: Oh, and one last thing: I'd prefer to keep my *future* plans for Quinn between us, if that's all right. Just focus on helping her in the here-and-now. JAKE: Oh I will. I will... (cut to: ) SCENE 5 (Morgendorffer house, evening) (Shot of the outside.) JAKE: (off screen voice-over) Quinn's gonna be a GENIUS!!! (Cut to shot of the four Morgendorffers sitting at dinner. Jake is very animated, while Daria watches him impassively, and Helen with pleasure and surprise -- mostly surprise. Quinn looks pale and stunned.) JAKE: He said all I gotta do is sit with her every night and then *whammo* -- she could go anywhere! Well I'm up for the challenge! I've been known to push around the old *slide rule* in my day. QUINN: A *what*?? DARIA: (deadpan) I think the modern slang term for it is "calculator," Dad. JAKE: Oh. Right. (chuckles.) (Beat) HELEN: Well, Jakey, it sounds like you got a lot out of your talk with Mr. Phelps. But I'm sure he meant for *both* of us to-- QUINN: (crafty) Yeah, um, Dad, are you *sure* you understood what Mr. Phelps was saying?? 'Cause he can, like, use a lot of really *big*, confusing words. JAKE: (looking confused) Well he... seemed pretty clear to me. HELEN: (glaring sideways at Quinn) Jake, can't you see she's just trying to *trip* you up?? (Bt. to Quinn) You *know*, sweetie, this could be your wake-up call. Why not *use* this opportunity -- (Quinn gets a sour look on her face.) -- to focus on the *rest* of your studies? QUINN: (frustrated) But *dammit*, I don't have *time* to focus on school! I've got really important plans I have to deal with! (Pause. She gets a cold look from Helen.) HELEN: Well *make* time. JAKE: Yeah, sweetie -- I'll figure out a way to make learning really *fun*! QUINN: Ughhh... DARIA: Yes, Quinn: get in touch with your inner brain. (smirks wickedly.) QUINN: Ughhhhhhhh!!! (stands up abruptly.) That's *it*! I can't take this anymore. I'm gonna go upstairs to... be... sick, now. (stumbles away.) (The other members of her family watch her go. Then Jake turns to Helen and Daria and waves a hand nonchalantly.) JAKE: Aw, she's just a little nervous. But wait'll she sees all the really *neat* stuff I'm gonna do for her. I'll get started now! (jumps up, dashes away.) (Pause. Daria watches him go, then cocks an eyelid at Helen.) DARIA: Well, well: I'm impressed. HELEN: So am I. I've never *seen* your father so energized. DARIA: Yeah -- he's awake after dinner. (Bt) But actually, I was referring to your uncommon show of restraint. You didn't try *too* hard to take the reins from him. HELEN: Oh *come* on, Daria, what makes you think I'd *do* something like that? (gets a pointed look from Daria. conceding) Well *look*, he said he wanted the chance to prove his parenting skills, and I'm willing to have faith in him. DARIA: (subtly impressed) Hmm, then maybe your separation *wasn't* a total waste. HELEN: And besides, if he messes up, I'll be *right* nearby to pick up the pieces... (fade-out. fade-in to: ) SCENE 6 (Quinn's room, late evening) (Shot of her door as seen from the outside.) QUINN: (off screen voice-over) My life is *over*!!! (Cut to an overhead shot of Quinn. She's sprawled across the bed in a crucifixion pose, the cordless phone against her ear.) QUINN: (melodramatic) My parents are, like, *chaining* me to the stupid kitchen table every night just 'cause I'm *failing* math! (Split the screen to form three triangles, containing Quinn, Tiffany, and Stacy. Quinn's on tele-conference call.) TIFFANY: Bummer. STACY: But weren't you doing well at one --? QUINN: They're gonna make me *slave* away studying for the next dumb test, when I should be working on the Fashion Expo! STACY: Dumb Mr. Phelps. He gives too many tests. TIFFANY: Yeah. He's *so* weird. STACY: I wish he'd never transferred here from that stupid prep school. TIFFANY: He could *really* use some new outfits. STACY: *Yeah*, like maybe he could get one of those cute little-- QUINN: *Guys*! (Bt) Ugh, look, what that means is I'm gonna have to put more *responsibility* on you. Ordering the food, the flowers, stuff like that. STACY: On us?? (looks a little intimidated.) QUINN: Think you can handle it? TIFFANY: Suuuuure. (gets a delighted smirk.) QUINN: Great. STACY: But what'll *you* be able to do?? QUINN: Hey, don't worry -- I'll be there to wine and dine Mr. Reynaldo and the rest of the Defense of Cute Animals Society. (Bt. chuckles) I mean, I shouldn't have *too* much trouble ditching my dad. He's not exactly *all* there, if you know what I mean. (chuckles again.) (Pause) STACY: Your dad?? I thought he was your uncle. (Pause) QUINN: Oh. Well... he likes it when I call him "Dad." Makes him feel important. STACY: Oh. (Beat) TIFFANY: But your mom's your *mom*, right?? QUINN: Oh. *Yeah*. (Pause. Quinn chuckles nervously.) (fade-out. fade-in to: ) SCENE 7 (kitchen, a short time later) (Shot of the kitchen table. It's covered with scattered papers, a notebook, an Algebra/Geometry text book, pencils, calculator -- the whole shebang. We now see Quinn walk toward the table uneasily , then collapse into a chair. She leans one elbow on the table and places her head in hand. Then, with her other hand, she picks up a pencil and stares at it suspiciously, as if it's an alien object. Finally Quinn sets it down and lets it roll across the table. Just then, we see Daria come up to her.) QUINN: (wary) *Don't* say it. DARIA: (smirking) That you're well-stocked for your journey to Nerdville? QUINN: *Yes*. DARIA: Well don't worry -- I don't have to. 'Cause congratulations: you've already crossed over. (Quinn glares at her resentfully, then looks at the math materials, and wilts.) **************** END OF ACT ONE [Shot of Jake falling off the desk in Mr. Phelps's classroom.] ***You are now entering commercial *HEAVEN*. Laaaaaaaaaaaaa... We're so very happy to have you with us. Just sit back and let yourself be soothed by some of the grooviest commercials put on television.*** 1) "Next Wednesday, on the Ten Spot: Helen's in Amanda Lane's sculpture class? Daria's *proactive*?? Has the world gone mad??? Find out next week on an all-new 'Daria.'" [To John Berry: this is what you do when you aren't able to follow up a preview clip with an actual episode. You just blame the MTV programmers for having stupidity that knows no bounds, and claim that they pre-empted your fic with "One Hundred Ways for Teenagers to Have Sex." *But*, due to a massive letter writing campaign by devoted fans of "Daria," the programmers decided to air your fic after all -- but they aired the *wrong* fic by mistake! D'OH!!! Those stupid clowns... off with their heads.] 2) Those anti-smoking commercials. *Some* of them -- not the super-preachy ones that show empty playgrounds or girls getting turned off by that cute boy who puffs -- are extremely clever. Especially the ones that show clips from the tobacco industry's appearance before Congress. They *always* make me think twice about picking up the habit... or they would, if not for the fact that I've never thought *once* about it... ;-) 3) Those commercials that advertise the greatest hits from a certain decade. Don't know how, but somehow they've always made me come *this* close to rushing for the phone and ordering. They play the *best* music and show the best clips from certain bands. So far, I've been able to resist impulse buying, but some day, the Demon Music lover may prove too strong for me... ***You are now leaving commercial *HEAVEN*. Y'all come back soon now, ya hear?*** ACT TWO SCENE 1 (Morgendorffer house, that same time) (Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Helen sitting at the edge of the bed in her and Jake's room, sorting through papers in her opened briefcase. Just then Jake rushes in, carrying a load of wacky knick-knacks and wearing a sweatshirt. He thrusts a couple of objects toward Helen.) JAKE: Hey honey, what d' you think?? HELEN: (looking up from her stuff) Jake, what *are* those?? JAKE: Pencil cozies! (Bt) Aren't they *cute* little guys?? You attach 'em to the eraser, and suddenly your pencil becomes really *neat*! HELEN: (amused) And just *what's* the point of having them? JAKE: It's all part of making the learning experience fun for Quinn! She *likes* cute stuff. (Bt) And take a look at *this*! (spreads his arms out to reveal the message on his sweatshirt.) HELEN: (reading) "What are you looking at... *geek*?" JAKE: Cool, huh?? HELEN: I guess. (Bt) But Jake, do you really think this will help Quinn get *serious* about studying?? JAKE: I don't know, Helen, but what can it hurt?? Nothing *else* has worked so far. HELEN: Hmm, you have a point. (Bt. shakes her head.) Well I must say, Jake: if I'd known you were going to be *this* excited about helping one of our girls, I'd've sent you to a parent-teacher conference *months* ago. JAKE: It was that Mr. Phelps, Quinn's math teacher. He *really* got me thinking. HELEN: (cocking a brow) Yes, that man *can* be awfully persuasive. (grumble. to herself) And *irritating* as hell... JAKE: (not hearing her) It was what he said about Quinn being a natural math brain. Did *you* know she was gifted in math?? (Helen sighs.) HELEN: Well, I knew she was *smart* -- more than she and certain *other* people in this house would care to admit. JAKE: Well I *didn't* know. I never even gave it a thought. (Bt. gets a bleak expression on his face.) Poor little Quinn. Imagine her sitting on her math talent, scared to use it 'cause she thinks her daddy doesn't believe in her. Alone, depressed... (eyes start to bulge with rage.) resenting the *hell* out of me, wishing I would just *drop* dead, wanting to *pick* me up and HURL me where the sun don't --! HELEN: *Jake*. Get a grip. JAKE: (immediately pacified) Sorry. (Beat) HELEN: Look, if anything, we're *both* to blame for Quinn's performance at school. And *Quinn* is, too. We'll *all* just have to try extra hard from now on. JAKE: Damn *right* I will. I'm not gonna be an unresponsive father to my little girl. I'm going downstairs *right* now. HELEN: (chuckling a little) Okay, Jake. JAKE: Have fun working, honey! (he leaves.) (Pause. Helen watches him go, then looks at her briefcase and wilts a little.) HELEN: Right. (cut to: ) SCENE 2 (kitchen) (Shot of Daria and Quinn sitting at the kitchen table. Quinn's gazing at her math book. Daria has scattered a bunch of peanuts on her side of the table, and is now opening them one at a time. After several seconds of cracking sounds, Quinn finally looks at Daria, irritated.) QUINN: *Quit* trying to distract me! (Beat) DARIA: Brace yourself, Quinn: I actually think it's *cool* you're studying. QUINN: Ha -- right! It's just 'cause I look like a dumb *geek*. Well don't think I care about this stuff! (Pause. Quinn refocuses on her book, while Daria returns to cracking peanut shells. After several more seconds, Quinn looks up again, enraged.) QUINN: *Dammit*, Daria, would you *cut* it out?! I can't concentrate! DARIA: Well if you don't care, then this shouldn't bother you. QUINN: Mo-om!! Daria's *bugging* me! (Just then, we see Jake arrive.) JAKE: Hey, girls. DARIA: (to Quinn) Now I'm really convinced. QUINN: MO-OOOM!!! JAKE: Um, Quinn, sweetie... (pats himself.) QUINN: (as if seeing him for the first time) Oh. Right. (Bt) Dad, make Daria stop teasing me. JAKE: (to Daria) Hey, kiddo -- why don't you go watch some TV? (points toward the living room.) DARIA: (deadpan) What a novel idea. I might just do that. (scoops up the peanuts, leaves.) JAKE: That's the spirit, kiddo. (Bt) Wow -- I really *am* getting the hang of this parenting stuff! (No response from Quinn. She's too busy looking at her math book with an irritated expression. Jake sits down next to her, lays all of his junk on the table.) JAKE: Hey *look*, sweetie! (holds out the pencil cozies.) (Quinn looks up, sees the cozies, gets a horrified expression on her face.) QUINN: Eww!! What *are* those?! JAKE: (wilting a little) Oh, um, you don't like them? QUINN: No *way*! They're creepy! JAKE: Oh. (hides the cozies in one of his pockets.) (Cut to shot of Daria sitting down on the center couch and reaching for the TV remote. Having overheard this exchange, she cocks a droll eyelid. Resume shot of Quinn and Jake. Quinn's looking at the rest of Jake's stuff.) QUINN: And what is with the *rest* of this stuff?? (rolls her eyes, chuckles with amusement and some condescension.) God, Dad: I'm, like, not in second *grade* anymore. (Jake clears the rest of his stuff off the table with one sweep of his arm.) JAKE: (contrite) Oh, um, yeah. I was just... (slumps forward.) QUINN: Well look, I've got the hang of this section. So why don't you, um... go eat something or take a nap or whatever? (Jake shrugs with muted enthusiasm.) JAKE: Hell, why not? (gets up and leaves the table, dragging his stuff with him, a few falling on the floor in the process.) (Quinn returns to frowning at her math book. Cut to shot of Jake in the kitchen. He dumps his junk on the counter and picks up an apple out of the fruit basket. Looks at it as though it holds the key to the universe.) JAKE: (mumbling to it) Well she *seems* to be doing okay... so there's not much for *me* to do... (polishes the apple off on his shirt, looks about ready to take a bite, when a thought suddenly occurs to him.) *Wait*. This is a *trap*, isn't it?? One of those ones that the *good* parents know how to get out of, right?? Mmmm, maybe I oughta talk to Helen. (glances toward the stairs uneasily, then shakes his head.) No, no, no -- I can handle this *myself*. QUINN: (off screen) Daddy! (Cut to shot of Quinn at the table, wearing a peevish, bewildered expression.) QUINN: Who're you *talking* to?? (Cut to shot of Jake. He chuckles sheepishly, glances at the apple.) JAKE: Oh... no one, sweetheart. (Pause. in a softer voice.) Think, Jake, m' man: how're you gonna help her out if she says she doesn't need it?? (frowns, rubs the apple meditatively. then gets a revelation.) Aha! I got it! (to the apple) Oh you *beautiful* thing. (takes a big bite.) (Meanwhile, cut to shot of Daria sitting on the couch, watching TV.) SSW ANNOUNCER: Would you want Jennifer Love-Hewitt starring in *your* movie?? *These* people did! Hear their horrific true-life tale on the *neeeext* "Sick Sad World"! (Daria cringes. We then hear the sound of pounding down the stairs and see Helen sweep past Daria in the direction of the kitchen.) HELEN: Quinn, sweetie! (Cut to shot of the kitchen. Quinn looks at her inquisitively as she approaches.) HELEN: (out of breath) I heard you... calling. Is there a problem? QUINN: (nonchalant) No problem. Everything's fine, now. HELEN: Oh. (Jake comes up to them, hypercharged.) JAKE: (to Helen) Yeah, honey! I've decided I'm gonna *check* Quinn's work when she's through. That's something a *responsible* parent would do, right?? (Beat) HELEN: Um, right. JAKE: You never know -- Quinn might just *think* she's doing the problems right, but is really making mistakes all along! (looks at Quinn, gives her an exaggerated, jokey wink.) (Quinn rolls her eyes.) QUINN: (hushed) *Whatever*. (returns to her work.) (Pause. Helen looks at them both, gets an awkward expression.) HELEN: Well, um, you two seem to be doing fine. So... I'll, um, leave you alone. (stands there a few seconds longer, then leaves.) (Cut to shot of Daria on the couch, still watching TV. Helen walks over sort of hesitantly, then sits down beside her.) HELEN: (cheery) Hi, sweetie. Whatcha watching? DARIA: (deadpan) Does the psychedelic eyeball not speak for itself? (Beat) HELEN: Hmm-hmm. Right. (Pause. looks at the screen, face brightens.) Jennifer Love-Hewitt! Ooh, I *like* her. She's such a sweet -- (Daria picks up the remote and turns off the TV.) HELEN: (face falling a tad) Oh. (Meanwhile, cut to shot of Jake and Quinn at the kitchen table. Quinn's scribbling away at a problem, frowning with concentration, while Jake munches away on his apple. Quinn glances at him.) QUINN: Dad, would you, like, not *crunch* so loud?? Eating sounds are so *gross*! JAKE: Forry. (swallows.) (Resume shot of Helen and Daria.) DARIA: I was about to go upstairs, anyway. HELEN: Well what's your hurry? (musters a friendly, crooning tone.) Since we're both sitting here, why don't we have a little briefing on each other's day? (Beat) DARIA: Hmm, sitting upstairs certainly can't compare to *that* thrill. (Bt) Okay, shoot. (Beat) HELEN: Um... all right. (Bt) How's school? DARIA: Fine. HELEN: And Jane? (Daria sighs.) DARIA: Between her going out with Tom and painting murals for school, I haven't seen too much of Jane lately. HELEN: Oh. (Pause) DARIA: And your day? HELEN: Oh -- great! Busy, busy... busy. You know me. DARIA: Yep. (Pause. Helen and Daria glance at each other, Helen awkwardly, Daria impassively.) DARIA: (thought voice-over) Five... four... three... two... HELEN: Oh! Was that my *cell* phone I heard ringing upstairs?? I'd better go answer it. (She jumps off the couch, quickly leaves. Daria waits until she's disappeared upstairs before turning the TV back on.) (Meanwhile, cut to shot of Quinn and Jake. Jake pounds the table enthusiastically, startling Quinn.) JAKE: Ready to get your work checked now?? QUINN: (rolling her eyes, groaning) *Fine*. Knock yourself out. (thrusts her paper towards Jake.) (She looks impatiently at her watch as Jake checks her calculations, then looks at the corresponding answers in the back of her math book. His face brightens.) JAKE: Gosh, sweetie, you got these all right! QUINN: (blasé) Cool. JAKE: My little Einstein! (punches her lightly on the cheek.) QUINN: (cringing slightly) *Ugh*. Daddy, Einstein had, like, *really* bad hair. (Beat) JAKE: Oh. Yeah, right. (Bt. chuckles a little.) Well I don't get it, honey: how can you be so good at this stuff and *hate* it so much?? (Pause) QUINN: (hesitant) I don't *hate* math. (Pause) It just... frustrates me. JAKE: It does?? That's a shame. Boy, do *I* know how that is. (eyes start bulging.) You like something until it's *drilled* into you by a heartless old *bastard* for whom "can't" isn't a word, until everything you hold *dear* --! QUINN: Daddy! JAKE: (calming down) Oh...hmm. (waves a hand to say "Continue.") (Beat) QUINN: It's just... (groans with resignation) *all* these problems require the *right* combinations, and it's all on *you* to figure out what they are. JAKE: Uh-huh. (looks surprisingly like he understands.) QUINN: I mean *sure*, I'm up for the challenge -- mixing and matching is, like, my *calling* in life. But seeing each new problem with bad combinations that I have to fix just... upsets me. I mean those math people should really *know* better! JAKE: Wow, I'd never thought of it like that. (glances at the math book, finds a really complicated equation with a lot of x's and y's all over the place.) Like with this one? (Quinn looks at it. Her face takes on an expression of disgust.) QUINN: Ugh -- *yes*! Those two just *don't* belong together!! (Bt) I gotta -- (She seizes a pencil and a new piece of paper, then proceeds to work feverishly on the problem. Meanwhile Jake looks on, a bit stunned by her intensity. After several seconds, Quinn drops her pencil and, with a relieved sigh, pushes the paper toward Jake. He looks at it, then at the answer.) JAKE: Quinn -- you got it right! (Quinn groans and tosses her hands in the air.) QUINN: Well I should *hope* so! (fade-out. fade-in to: ) SCENE 3 (Lawndale High, several days later) (Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Quinn, Tiffany, and Stacy seated on the grass, going over details of the Fashion Expo.) STACY: ... And I got cute little yellow flowers for each of the displays. And cute-sounding music to play over the speaker system. So when are you gonna see the Defense of Cute Animals Society, Quinn? (Quinn bows her head slightly.) QUINN: I'm not sure. I, um, haven't *talked* to 'em yet. (Stacy and Tiffany glance at each other, concerned.) STACY: But didn't you --? QUINN: (exasperated) I *thought* I could take care of the preparations *easy*, but night after night my *dad* -- um, I mean, the man I *call* dad -- watches me like some kind of freaking *hawk* 'til I've finished my dumb *math* problems. TIFFANY: Ewww... STACY: That's not fair, Quinn -- he should *know* what's more important. QUINN: No kidding! I can't do *anything* 'cause he makes me spend, like, *hours* working on this stuff. I can't even date! (Bt) Well, *easily*, I mean. TIFFANY & STACY: Awww... QUINN: (shaking her head, a note of wonder in her voice) Geez, y' know I never would've thought my dad had it *in* him... (Tiffany and Stacy shake their heads with sympathy. Just then, we see a girl walk up to Quinn, wearing a beseeching expression.) GIRL: Quinn? Which color eyeliner do you think is best: navy or chocolate brown? (Quinn pauses momentarily to think.) QUINN: (counseling tone) Well, *I* personally would go with navy 'cause it gives you, like, that "I'm hot but don't touch me" look, whereas chocolate brown kinda says "Come and *get* me." Unless of course you *want* that kind of look in which case *go* for it, I mean that's just *me* talking. You don't have to go with what *I* say, even though I'm usually right about these kinds of things. GIRL: (shaking her head rapidly) Oh *no*, no -- you're Fashion Club president. You *always* know what's right. Thank you. Thank you *so* much! (She runs off, overcome with emotion, as if she's just spoken with the Godfather. Quinn turns to Tiffany and Stacy.) QUINN: (ego gratified) Now where were we? TIFFANY: Fashion Expo. QUINN: *Right*. STACY: Y' know, if you're too busy, Quinn, Brooke said she'd help out -- if you'd make her a member. QUINN: (frowning) Hmmm... I dunno. It's already sorta crowded with *three*. TIFFANY: Or Sandi could -- QUINN: Sandi?? What *about* her?? (suddenly irritated) Why should *she* help out?? (Pause. Stacy and Tiffany glance at each other, a little startled by Quinn's reaction.) TIFFANY: (reverting to yes-man role) Oh she *shouldn't*. You're, like, *way* capable, Quinn. QUINN: *'Course* I am. (Beat. Stacy looks at Tiffany, a little confused by her turnaround, then at Quinn.) STACY: (slowly) Well we just thought... since Sandi knows fashion, too... QUINN: (demanding tone) So you, like, think *she* could do a better job than me?? STACY: (slightly nervous) Oh well no... but she could... since you're busy... QUINN: (curt) Look, we don't *need* anything from Sandi. Sandi *quit* the club, so *why* should we involve her in any of our plans?? I can entertain the Cute Animals Society on my own and I *will*. STACY: Okay. (Just then, we see Brittany bound up to them, holding a bottle of pore cleanser and twirling a lock of hair.) BRITTANY: (spacy cheerful) Quinn, I got Jean-Pierre's pore cleansing stuff just like you suggested! QUINN: (still irritated) *Not* Jean-Pierre. *Chateau Pierre-François*. BRITTANY: Oh. (gets a horrified look on her face, realizing her mistake.) *Eap*! (She runs off. Stacy and Tiffany glance at Quinn, both still a little disturbed by her mood. Quinn groans softly.) QUINN: So Tiffany, how's *your* share of the work coming? (Beat) TIFFANY: (slowly) Good. QUINN: 'Cause I kind of gave you a lot of responsibilities that were sort of *important*. TIFFANY: Uh-huh. QUINN: (getting a bit uneasy due to her tone) I figured you could handle 'em... since you're *vice-president*. TIFFANY: Uh-huh. QUINN: (more uneasy) So, um, have you... ordered the food and reserved the gym? Like I asked you to? TIFFANY: Uh-uh. (shakes her head.) QUINN: (rolling her eyes) Why *not*?? (Beat) TIFFANY: (slightly defensive) It's been icky. (Quinn frowns with confusion -- "What the hell do you mean by *icky*?!") QUINN: (an edge in her voice) But you can handle it, right?? Tell me right now, 'cause otherwise I'll do it myself. (Beat) TIFFANY: (frowning) What are you saying, Quinn?? QUINN: *Look*, all I'm saying -- STACY: (subdued) You don't trust Tiffany, Quinn? TIFFANY: (eyes narrowing) *Yeah*. (Quinn glances from Tiffany's irritated face to Stacy's disappointed one, and realizes she needs to tone things down or else risk alienating them the way Sandi did.) QUINN: (quickly) No, no, *no*, of *course* I trust Tiffany. (chuckles uneasily) I mean, I'm not some *power*-hungry control *freak* like certain other presidents were. Tiffany, I have *complete* faith in your judgment. TIFFANY: (appeased) Good. (Quinn heaves a sigh. Stacy, who's let her eyes trail sideways toward the school building for a few seconds, now makes note of something. Looks at Quinn.) STACY: Um, Quinn? Mr. Phelps was just looking at you. (Quinn jerks her head around, looks toward the building. The hallway is now empty. Quinn gets a rattled expression on her face. fade-out.) (fade-in to: ) SCENE 4 (Morgendorffer house, a few days later, evening) (Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Quinn and Jake at the table. Quinn's scribbling away at math, frowning with concentration and resentment. Meanwhile Jake's sitting there, looking in serious danger of nodding off.) (Cut to shot of Helen and Daria sitting in the living room. Daria's on the left hand couch, reading a book, while Helen sits on the center couch. She's *supposed* to be working, but instead keeps eyeing Quinn at the table, then Daria, looking as though she wants to say something, then thinking better of it. Finally: ) HELEN: (anxious tone) Daria? Do you think I'm sending a bad message to Quinn by just sitting here?? DARIA: That standing is highly overrated? HELEN: (rolling her eyes) You know -- that my *not* helping her with her math homework means I must not be good at it, that math's too *hard* for me, and that therefore math is too hard for *all* women and they shouldn't do it. (Beat) DARIA: (lowering her book slightly) Considering that this whole set-up is designed to bring out Quinn's innate math talent, I don't think you have anything to worry about. HELEN: Oh. (Pause. She looks down briefly at her work, while Daria returns to reading. Then:) HELEN: Because I *am* good at math, you know. *Very* good. I once won the medal for best -- DARIA: I believe you. (Helen lapses into silence, tries to refocus on her work.) (Meanwhile cut to shot of Quinn and Jake at the table. Quinn casts a stealthy glance at Jake, who has fallen asleep in an upright position. Slowly, quietly, she lays down her pencil and pushes back her chair. She stands up, creeps over to the phone, and grabs it. Then she tries to creep past Helen and Daria on her way to the stairs -- but Helen, in her distracted state, can't fail to catch her.) HELEN: And just *where* do you think you're going with that, young lady?? (Quinn freezes, looks at the phone uneasily.) QUINN: I'm, um... just gonna call one of my friends an' ask them for help on a math problem. (Daria lowers her book a tad.) DARIA: And knock off a couple of *extra* hours talking about the hottest hunks in boy bands. QUINN: (glaring) *Listen*, Daria -- (Cut to shot of the table. Jake stirs.) JAKE: Huh -- what?? (jerks his head around.) Quinn?? (Cut to shot of Quinn, Helen, and Daria.) HELEN: (confident no-nonsense tone) *Quinn*, you're not going anywhere until you've finished your homework. QUINN: But Mo-om... *please*! (gets a desperate, beseeching look on her face.) I *really* need to do this! (Turns her beseeching look on her mom, and is met with a cold, unyielding expression. At last, Quinn angrily flings her hands in the air and trudges back to the table.) HELEN: And as for *you*, Jake -- you need to be more on *top* of these things! (Daria watches her as she says this. Cocks an eyelid.) (Cut to shot of Jake at the table. He slumps forward, nods. Meanwhile Quinn flops back down in her seat, her expression glowering.) QUINN: (angry. melodramatic) This is *all* so unfair! My life *sucks*! JAKE: What's wrong, honey? Anything ol' Dad can help you with? (He tries to put an arm around Quinn. She pulls away.) QUINN: *Help* me with -- you, my *imprisoner*?? You're, like, turning me into some kind of *slave*, forcing me to, like, work on math 'til I *die*! (Cut to close-up of Daria.) DARIA: (having overheard) All you need now is a dozen gashes in your back and your indignity's complete. (Resume shot of Quinn and Jake.) QUINN: And my life could've been *so* much more... (hangs her head.) (Jake watches her, his face growing soft and concerned as he sees the distress she's feeling.) JAKE: Aw gee, Quinn, I was just tryin' to... aw *hell*... QUINN: (head still hung) More... more... (Cut to shot of Helen and Daria.) HELEN: (irritated) Jake, don't *listen* to her -- can't you see she's just trying to *manipulate* you?? (Cut shot of Quinn and Jake.) QUINN: (raising her head. meek) I am not. I'm just *really* upset right now. JAKE: Aw, Helen, what's wrong with just *one* little phone call?? (Cut to shot of Helen and Daria.) HELEN: Do I even have to *tell* you?! DARIA: Quinn with the phone. Like a heroin addict with a fresh needle. HELEN: (shocked) Daria! (Cut to shot of Quinn and Jake. Quinn looks at her dad imploringly.) QUINN: (little-girly) *Please*, Daddy?? (Pause. Jake looks in serious danger of crumbling. He fidgets uncomfortably for several seconds, then glances back at Helen for assistance, but sees that she's still preoccupied with Daria. Then he takes a big breath.) JAKE: (gentle. hesitant) Honey, uh what d' you say you do just a *few* more problems, an' *then* you can make your call. Okay? (Quinn gets a genuinely upset look on her face.) QUINN: (quavering slightly) But I *can't*. (lays her face in her arms on the table.) (Cut to shot of Helen and Daria. Helen's just caught Quinn's outburst and looks like she's about to say something, when Daria makes a distinct throat-clearing sound. Helen looks at her with a "What?!" expression, which Daria returns with an impassive, yet meaningful stare. Helen gets an irritated look on her face, says nothing.) (Resume shot of Quinn and Jake. Jake again attempts to lay an arm around Quinn, this time succeeding.) JAKE: C'mon sweetie... this math stuff is easy for you. (Quinn lifts her head. We see tears in her eyes that seem on the verge of spilling over.) QUINN: Not *this* one. (points to it. defeated tone) I've spent *forever* on it an' nothing I've tried works. I can't solve it. (Beat) JAKE: Aw, you poor little... I hate to see you like this. (Bt) Here -- lemme have a look at it... (pulls the math book toward him.) (Quinn lets out a soft, irritated guffaw.) QUINN: *You*?? Just *what* d' you think *you*... could...do? (lapses into silence as she sees her dad get a rare look of concentration.) (Jake takes a pencil and a piece of scratch paper. He looks at the problem, then at the scratch paper, and starts scribbling away.) JAKE: Hmm... it's been a while... since I've seen this stuff... not since... business school. Lemme see if I... remember. (long Pause) Aha! Got it! QUINN: You *did*?? (looks over at Jake's work.) JAKE: *Yeah*. (Bt) You see, sweetie, all you had to do was square each side, then divide by two... turn *this* fraction upside down... cross this out... (Beat) QUINN: (face lighting up) Oh! I get it now! (Pause. takes time to make the necessary corrections on her own paper, then looks at Jake with vague admiration.) Wow, Dad -- that was really *cool* the way you came up with that stuff. JAKE: It wasn't so hard. Back in my day, this was *my* best subject in school. I even won a gold medal in the statewide math tournament. And the upperclassmen always used to make me do their math homework for them. (eyes bulge) Lousy BASTARDS --! QUINN: Um, Dad... JAKE: (calming down) Hmm. (Bt. cheerful) So I guess you could say your talent for math is really just a *chip* off the old block. (nudges Quinn slightly in a playful manner as he says this.) (Cut to shot of Helen and Daria. Again, Helen opens her mouth to speak, this time looking more insistent. Daria makes another throat-clearing sound. Helen looks at her; Daria shakes her head ever-so-slightly, without even looking up from her book. Helen gets irritated all over again.) (Resume shot of Jake and Quinn.) QUINN: Yeah, Dad, that's really neat. (Bt. voice takes on a crafty edge.) Gee, since you're so good at math an' all, maybe you could do some *other* problems for me... an' I'll just observe an' learn. (points to some rather complicated problems in the math book.) JAKE: (picking up a pencil) Sure, sweetheart -- anything you need. That's my whole reason for being here, y' know: to help you *learn* this stuff. (Pause. Something in Jake's innocent tone gets to Quinn, causing her face to soften with gratitude and some remorse.) QUINN: Um, actually, Dad, why don't you just, like, give me a couple tips to get started, instead? An' I'll do the rest? JAKE: (cheerful) Oke-doke. (He looks at one problem, starts jotting down the first few steps. Quinn watches him.) QUINN: Dad? JAKE: Yuh-huh? (Beat) QUINN: Thanks. (Cut to shot of Helen and Daria. Helen's watching them, a pacified look on her face. She turns to Daria. Without looking up from her book, Daria nods a "Good job.") (fade-out. fade-in to: ) SCENE 5 (Lawndale High, test day) (Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Quinn, Tiffany, and Stacy standing next to their lockers. Stacy's hyperventilating, while Quinn and Tiffany discuss the Fashion Expo.) STACY: Oh my *God*... Oh my *GOD*! TIFFANY: (to Quinn) Did you hear what *Cumberland's* fashion club is bringing to the Expo? *Chin* models. QUINN: (shuddering) Eww. The Cute Animals Society is, like, *way* better than that. TIFFANY: Yeah. STACY: *Math*... I didn't study... oh *God*, I'll fail! QUINN: (sounding bored) No you *won't*, Stacy. STACY: (desperate) *You* studied, didn't you, Quinn?? You know what's gonna be on the test, *don't* you??! TIFFANY: Test? (Quinn sighs.) QUINN: After spending days an' days *trapped* in the house learning it, I *ought* to. STACY: Can I *copy* off of you?? Oh *please*?! QUINN: (trying to reason with her) Look, Stacy -- (Suddenly, from off screen: ) MAN: Ah! *There* you are, Ms. Morgendorffer! (Quinn turns around, stunned, to watch a tall, robust man in expensive synthetic clothing come her way. He's followed by several busty models.) QUINN: Mr. Reynaldo -- *hi*. Um, how did you *find* me? REYNALDO: (gushy) We were just *lucky*. Here we were, wandering through the hallway, goin' "Well if Quinn won't come to *us*, we'll go to her!" When la-da-dah, *presto*! We found you standing here! QUINN: Great. Um... I'm sorry I didn't get back to you sooner, but -- REYNALDO: Uh-uh, *no* "buts" are necessary! Now that we're together, we can *finally* get down to discussing plans for your little expo. (Pause. Stacy gets an excited look on her face, and Tiffany gets about as close to excited as she possibly could.) QUINN: (uneasy) That'd be great... but, um, right now we really have t-- REYNALDO: (gushy disappointed) Oh come now, Ms. Morgendorffer: the Defense of Cute Animals Society has come *all* this way and we have so *little* time to spend. If we don't meet now, we might *never* get another chance. QUINN: (uneasy) Really?? REYNALDO: Yes, *really*! (to Stacy and Tiffany) And you girls would like to see our *stretch* limo, wouldn't you? TIFFANY & STACY: Yeah! MODEL: (giggling) It's got a big-screen T.V. MODEL 2: With *Animal* Planet. (giggles.) STACY: *Ooh*, the new "Lassie"!!! (She and Tiffany look expectantly at Quinn.) QUINN: But... (gestures weakly in the direction of Mr. Phelps's classroom.) (Reynaldo puts on a faux remorseful look. Shakes his head.) REYNALDO: I understand, Ms. Morgendorffer. I guess fashion just *isn't* your number one priority. (Bt) Come along, ladies. (He nods at the models, and they all start to walk away. Tiffany and Stacy follow hesitantly, then look at Quinn for her response. Quinn looks back at them with an apologetic expression. Then she flings her hands in the air.) QUINN: (mustering cheerfulness) What are you *talking* about, Mr. Reynaldo?? Fashion is my *only* priority. (Bt) C'mon, let's get down to business, shall we? (She walks up to the group, and they all leave.) **************** END OF ACT TWO [Shot of Quinn on the grass, giving eyeliner advice to one of her many followers.] ***You are now entering commercial *HEAVEN*. Laaaaaaaaaaaaa... We're so very happy to have you with us. Just sit back and let yourself be soothed by some of the grooviest commercials put on television.*** My nod to great television promotionals... 1) The Brady-Nixon Connection. Yes, I'll admit: I *watch* Nick at Nite. :-) This promotional is wildly clever and historically accurate. It basically spells out the parallels between the significant events in the "Brady Bunch" household and in the Nixon administration... and suggests they somehow *influence* each other. Like, the Bradys moved into their house the same year Nixon took office -- and were canceled them same year Nixon resigned... 2) Okay, I'll admit it: I watch Saturday morning cartoons on the WB, too!! I love the promos that combine different cartoons and have them interact in amusing ways. Like ones that pit "Batman Beyond" characters against characters from "Pokémon" or "The Warner Brothers Cat and Birdie Big Cartoony," or whatever it's called, show. The interaction is made believable by dubbed-over dialogue by the voice actors. [Almost all of the WB cartoon are great... *watch* 'em!] 3) And *finally* I saw a promo for "Daria" being shown on Nickelodeon!! It was at 2:55 am, and it mistakenly advertised its showing for Wednesday at 10 (ha! when will *that* be, again??). But still -- *finally*! A cross-promotional on MTV's sister network... ***You are now leaving commercial *HEAVEN*. Y'all come back soon now, ya hear?*** ACT THREE SCENE 1 (Mr. Reynaldo's limo, early evening) (Shot of the outside of the limo, driving down residential streets, not far from the Morgendorffers' house. Cut to shot of the inside. We see Stacy glued to the big screen TV, watching the new "Lassie." Quinn and Tiffany are conversing with Mr. Reynaldo and the models. Quinn is in her cosmopolitan mode, showing none of the anxiety she displayed earlier. All the while, she sips mineral water out of a champagne glass.) MODEL: (to Quinn and Tiffany) See? I got to be where I am today *without* even finishing high school! (giggles.) TIFFANY: Coooool. REYNALDO: (gushy) *Yes*, when you're a Cute Animals Society model, you don't need to know a lot of *silly* little words and numbers. *All* that matters is that you can pose in a tree with a cute little squirrel eating from your hand! QUINN & TIFFANY: *Awww*! MODEL 2: An' 'cause of that, I got to have my very own Farruh *Ri*! (Pause. Quinn and Tiffany look at her, confused.) REYNALDO: That's *Ferrari*, Mel. MODEL 2: Oh yeah. (giggles.) QUINN & TIFFANY: Ooooooooh! (Beat) QUINN: (to Reynaldo) Well, you're cause is, like, truly *noble*-sounding an' I only hope I impressed you with my plans for how to show it off this Saturday. REYNALDO: Oh yes, Ms. Morgendorffer! I've *never* met such a bright, sparkly, *pulsating* little person such as yourself. You'll make an *exquisite* host, I'm *sure* of it! (reaches over to pinch Quinn's cheek.) QUINN: (a bit unnerved by his gesture) Uh-huh, *we-ell*... it's easy to be energetic when you've got a really *great* team behind you. (looks pointedly at Tiffany.) (Tiffany stares at her blankly for several seconds.) TIFFANY: Uh-huh. (Stacy's too absorbed in "Lassie" to respond.) REYNALDO: You girls are *fabulous*! You should *all* become Cute Animals Society models some day! (Quinn and Tiffany nod. Then Quinn looks out the window, gets sort of pale.) QUINN: Um, Mr. Reynaldo -- would you mind dropping me off here? My house is only a few blocks away and I kind of... REYNALDO: Anything you ask, Ms. Morgendorffer! And I'll be looking forward to seeing *you* this Saturday! (Cut to shot of the outside. The limousine stops, and Quinn climbs out. When she's finally alone, she gets an uneasy look on her face.) (cut to: ) SCENE 2 (Morgendorffer house, at that same time) (Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Jake sitting in the living room on the center couch, looking rather subdued. He's flipping through the channels without paying attention to what's popping up. Meanwhile, Helen is pacing around near the front door.) HELEN: (angry) I *honestly* don't know what's gotten into her! JAKE: (sort of quiet) Me neither. (finally stops channel surfing, ends up on the Japanese-language channel.) HELEN: Just *wait* 'til she gets home! (Cut to shot of the outside. Quinn's walking up the walk, taking deep breaths, trying to act as if everything's normal.) (Resume shot of the inside. Helen stops pacing the moment she hears the front door opening. Turns and folds her arms as she sees Quinn creep inside.) QUINN: (faux cheerful) Hi Mom, Dad. Well it's been just an average, *dull* day for me -- how 'bout *you*?? (quickly moving toward the stairs.) Well I'm gonna go up to my room to do some after-school reflecting. See ya later. (Helen blocks her path.) HELEN: Quinn, *drop* the charade. We know you cut class today. QUINN: (face falling. nervous) You do? Oh. HELEN: Your math teacher phoned *again* and told us that you never took your test -- isn't that *right*, Jake?? (Jake nods. Quinn's face immediately registers anger.) QUINN: So it was *Phelps* who called you?! *What* -- does that man, like, have me *followed*, or something?! I *can't* believe anyone could be such a --! HELEN: (dead serious) Quinn, prepare to explain yourself. (Pause. Quinn goes a little pale, can't reply for several seconds. Just then, Jake comes up to them and tries to appeal on her behalf.) JAKE: (to Helen) Aw, honey... maybe she just wasn't *feeling* well that period. QUINN: (nodding her head rapidly) Uh yeah, *yeah*. *That's* it. HELEN: Not feeling well, eh? Then why didn't you go to the school nurse and get an *excuse*?? QUINN: Oh... um, well... I didn't want to bother the poor woman. An' those convalescent beds in her office are *so* creepy... (Helen looks at her with an unbelieving expression. Quinn gets even more uneasy.) JAKE: Don't be so hard on her, Helen. Um, maybe she just, um... was afraid she wouldn't do well. Maybe I didn't spend enough time with her. (to Quinn) It's okay, sweetie, we'll put in a little extra elbow grease *next* time around, an' -- (reaches toward Quinn to give her a reassuring nudge. She pulls away.) QUINN: (subdued) No, no, Dad, it's okay. (Bt) I was ready for the math test. HELEN: Well then what kept you from *taking* it?? QUINN: (getting defensive) *Hey*, I had more *important* stuff to do, all right?? I was preparing for the Fashion Expo. (Helen groans and gets an "I don't *believe* this" expression on her face. Jake's face falls a little.) HELEN: (dripping with irritation) *Fashion* Expo?! So some silly little *fashion*-related duty kept you from taking something that could affect your *grade* and your *future*?? QUINN: (rolling her eyes. equally irritated) It was one *stupid* test. Phelps gives a *million* of 'em. *No* big deal. HELEN: Oh, and your Fashion Expo *is*?! QUINN: *Yes*, okay?! (Pause. irritation increases.) Look, I don't know what you both think is gonna come from shoving all this math *crap* in my face -- (At the word "crap," Jake looks even more depressed.) QUINN: -- but whatever it is, it's *not* gonna happen, understand??! (Beat) HELEN: (more subdued) Quinn, Dad and I just want to see you succeed in life. QUINN: Like *how*? (tosses her arms in the air, gets an expression of disgust.) What d' you *expect*?! That I'll, like, become some really big *expert* at math, an' people will, like, *forget* all the bad grades I've gotten an' give me some freaking *scholarship*?! Well no *way*. (Bt) I'm good at fashion, it's what I do, and people *need* me. (Helen shakes her head, glances at Jake.) HELEN: Quinn, we just... QUINN: (more vehement) So if you're dreaming of me becoming some kind of math *genius* and going to a *nerd* university, it's not gonna work out. (Pause) HELEN: (sadly) No, I guess not. (sighs) With that attitude, it won't. (fade-out. fade-in to: ) SCENE 3 (Morgendorffer house, midnight.) (Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Jake sitting on the couch in his pajamas, watching the Japanese-language channel and looking glum. Just then, we see Helen coming towards him from the stairs.) HELEN: Jakey? (Bt) You all right? (Pause) JAKE: Yeah. Fine. HELEN: (sitting down beside him) You were so quiet this evening. JAKE: Oh. (Beat) HELEN: (gentle) Feel like talking, now? (Beat) JAKE: No, I'm fine. I really... like this... show. (Helen glances at the TV screen, then reaches for the remote and mutes the sound. Jake doesn't appear to notice. Helen takes his hand.) HELEN: Jakey, I hope you don't blame yourself for Quinn's behavior. (Pause) JAKE: (wilted) Aw honey, I thought I was getting through to her. HELEN: I think you *were*, Jake -- at least from what I could see. You certainly had the right idea. (Pause) JAKE: But it didn't work the way it was supposed to. (Bt) Dammit, I really wanted her to *like* math, Helen. (Pause) HELEN: (sober) Look, Jake, who knows what's going on in Quinn's mind right now. For all we know, she may very *well* like math. JAKE: (more hopeful) There were a few moments when she seemed to. (Helen sighs.) HELEN: But maybe she just doesn't *trust* herself to like it. You heard her this afternoon -- that defeatist tone in her voice. It's as if she thinks she's dug herself too deep a hole scholastically to *ever* get out -- so better to just give up. (Pause) JAKE: I was hoping my encouragement... I dunno, would *change* all that. HELEN: Jake, you were there to support her. (squeezes his hand.) Like any *good* father would've been. That's really all *you* or anyone else could do. (Pause) JAKE: Then why do I feel like a failure? (cut to: ) SCENE 4 (Lawndale High, the next day) (Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Quinn, Tiffany, and Stacy coming out of the gym.) QUINN: Gosh, the gym sure looks *great*. STACY & TIFFANY: Yeah. QUINN: I *really* like what they've done with the floors, and there'll *definitely* be enough space to fit all the booths on Saturday. STACY & TIFFANY: Cool. QUINN: Um, there's just *one* thing. (Stacy and Tiffany look at her blankly.) Tiffany, the guys' basketball coach kind of, sorta gave me the impression that the next *game* would be played there that day. STACY: Huh?? (looks at Tiffany.) QUINN: (an edge in her voice) And *I* said that couldn't be, 'cause you'd *reserved* it. *Didn't* you, Tiffany?? (Pause. Tiffany grows ever-so-slightly pale.) TIFFANY: Um... yeah. (Pause) QUINN: (wary) I sure hope so. 'Cause if you didn't, we'll have nowhere to put the Fashion Expo. TIFFANY: (blasé) *Relax*, Quinn. Do... I... look... *stupid* or... something? STACY: Yeah. I'm sure Tiffany took care of it. (Quinn heaves a sigh.) QUINN: Look, I'm *not* saying you look stupid -- it's *not* a matter of stupidity. But -- (She suddenly sees Sandi walking through the quad, a distance away. Sandi has just noticed them, and is slowing her pace just a tad. Looks at them with curiosity and a hint of smugness.) QUINN: (immediately trying to sound cheery) Um, what I *mean* is -- I trust you *completely*, Tiffany. Forget I even brought it up. TIFFANY: Okay. (Beat) QUINN: Why don't you guys, um, go on ahead? (waves a hand.) I'll see you later. (Stacy and Tiffany nod, then leave. Quinn sags the minute they're gone, then touches the spot between her brows. Gets a disgusted look on her face.) QUINN: *Dammit*, all this worrying is *really* bad for my skin. (From off screen: ) PHELPS: Ms. Morgendorffer. (Quinn flinches and turns around as Phelps approaches, looking his usual dry, semi-formal self.) QUINN: (wary. controlled) Hi, Mr. Phelps. PHELPS: You're looking quite well today. QUINN: (curt) *Thanks*. PHELPS: So sorry that you weren't feeling well yesterday. QUINN: Huh?? (Beat) PHELPS: I said: so sorry you weren't *feeling* well. (Pause) QUINN: Oh! Um -- yeah. I wasn't. (Beat) PHELPS: I only hope you'll be up for taking the *make-up* exam this coming Monday. (Quinn's face grows pale.) QUINN: *This* Monday?? PHELPS: (nodding slowly) It will be harder than the test we took yesterday, since you'll have had more time to prepare. (Bt. raises a brow.) And there may be some material on it that you're not entirely familiar with. (Quinn can't respond -- she just nods slowly. Phelps reaches into his pocket, pulls out a folded piece of paper.) PHELPS: I've taken the liberty of preparing a study guide for you. (hands it to her.) Good luck, Ms. Morgendorffer. (He nods, then turns and leaves. Quinn stares at the paper with disbelief.) (cut to: ) SCENE 5 (Morgendorffer house, early evening) (Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Daria reading at the table and Helen rushing around, preparing the lasagna. Quinn comes up to them.) QUINN: Did, like, one of you guys tell Mr. Phelps that I was sick yesterday?? DARIA: Don't look at me. (Helen pauses and looks at Quinn with a tired, irritated expression.) HELEN: No, Quinn. I've covered up for you *too* many times, and it hasn't done you any good, so I won't anymore. QUINN: (annoyed by her mom's tone) Fine, *whatever*. My point is that Mr. Phelps gave me a make-up exam. I didn't see him give Stacy and Tiffany one, and they... um, too. (Daria cocks an eyelid.) DARIA: Maybe he's cowed by your figurehead status. HELEN: Well at *least* that means he's given you a second chance. I suggest you start studying. QUINN: (wilted) But the test is *Monday* and the Fashion Expo's this Saturday. I *can't* get around to studying until... (sees her mom's expression, realizes that she won't buy it.) (Pause) HELEN: (weary) You still don't get it, do you? (Bt. sighs) Quinn, I'm only sorry I didn't do this for you a *long* time ago -- but if you won't apply yourself to school on your *own*, I'm afraid I'll have to ground you from attending the Fashion Expo. QUINN: *What*? HELEN: Look, you have a second chance, and I'm *not* going to see you waste it. QUINN: But *dammit*, that's not -- (sees Helen's expression, again knows that she won't get through to her. instead stomps on the ground.) Dammit, you'll *never* understand me! (She rushes away before Helen can reply. Helen glances at Daria and shakes her head.) HELEN: *That* girl... (Beat) DARIA: This Phelps guy must have *some* reason for tailing Quinn like this. HELEN: Well he wants her to do well. We all do. DARIA: True. (Bt) But why *Quinn*? (Beat. Helen looks at her, perplexed and annoyed.) HELEN: What do you mean "why *Quinn*"?? Why *not*, Quinn? (Bt) Daria, is it *beyond* you to think that maybe your sister has a talent that her teacher just happens to *recognize*? (Daria absorbs this with a shrug.) DARIA: Perhaps. (Bt) But consider the *backdrop* against which his noble gesture is set. A public school. Overcrowded classrooms, dumbed-down curricula. There could be a dozen Quinns lurking in this guy's classroom, and he might never know it. (Meanwhile, Helen watches her with a weary expression.) DARIA: And yet, he chooses *our* Quinn. (Bt) I'm not suggesting any underhanded motives, I just think it's strange. (bitterness creeping in.) Where except in a Hollywood movie does a teacher ever bother to nurture someone's talent? (Pause) HELEN: You know it really makes me sad to hear you talk like that. (Daria cocks an eyelid.) DARIA: I'm not trying to sound like a pity case. I'm merely being realistic. (Pause) HELEN: Well for your sake, I hope some day you'll find your own Mr. Phelps. (fade-out. fade-in to: ) SCENE 6 (Morgendorffer house, Friday evening) (Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Quinn walking sulkily downstairs, math book and supplies bundled in her arms. She heads toward Jake, who's sitting in front of the TV, watching it as listlessly as he was a couple of days earlier, and eating peanuts.) QUINN: (rolling her eyes. irritated) O-kay, Dad. Since Mom an' you, like, *forced* me to stay in this *stupid* house and be a math *slave*, I guess that means you're my imprisoner again. (groans) I'll be at the table. (Pause. Jake appears to have not heard.) QUINN: Dad?? (Beat. Jake stirs.) JAKE: (subdued) Oh yeah. I'll be there... in a minute... sweetie. QUINN: 'Kay. (Cut to shot of the table. Quinn walks over to it and dumps her stuff, then spreads it out unenthusiastically. Opens her book to the necessary chapter and stares at it with a frown. Looks at it for several seconds, then glances up, wondering what's keeping Jake.) (Cut to her POV: Jake is still sitting on the couch, eating peanuts. He tosses one into the air, opens his mouth to catch it. It lands on his head, and sits there for several seconds before Jake makes a half-hearted attempt to brush it off.) (Resume shot of Quinn. She gets a confused, vaguely concerned look on her face.) (cut to: ) SCENE 7 (Daria's room) (Shot of Daria lying on the bed, reading. Sound of knocking off screen.) DARIA: (without looking up) You may enter, but at your own risk. (Pause. We hear the door opening and closing, and see Quinn come toward her.) QUINN: Daria? Have you noticed Dad's been acting *weird* lately? DARIA: (cocking an eyelid) Weird. *Our* father?? (Quinn rolls her eyes.) QUINN: I mean weirder than *usual*. (Bt) He's, like, *out* of it, but not in a *Dad* kind of way. (Bt. concerned) In a *depressed* kind of way. (Beat. Daria lowers her book.) DARIA: Come to think of it, that change in him *did* catch my attention. (Quinn sits down on the bed.) QUINN: But *why*?? (Bt) I mean it *can't* be something *I* said to him. I mean Dad just usually... (chuckles, but then grows quiet again.) (Daria lays her book aside, sits up.) DARIA: What *did* you say to him? (Beat) QUINN: Well... all I *said* was that I was sick of *math* an' stuff, but I didn't *mean*... (looks uncomfortable) I mean I was just *mad* 'cause Mom was putting down the Fashion Expo. (Pause) Geez, you don't think I hurt his feelings... do you? DARIA: Could be. He *was* awfully excited about helping you with school. QUINN: (rolling her eyes amusedly) *Yeah*, but Dad gets excited when he finds a toy airplane in a *cereal* box. He, like, goes *crazy* about something new every *week*. DARIA: True. (Bt) But he *did* stick by you every day for *two* weeks this time around. QUINN: Hmm, yeah, you're right. (Bt) But why? (Beat) DARIA: All I can think of is what he said during the separation. That he really wanted to be there for us more. QUINN: I thought he just said that stuff 'cause he was mad at Mom. DARIA: Maybe not. (Beat) QUINN: (subdued) Gee, an' I've been sort of *mean* to him the past couple of days. I didn't even think of whether it'd bother him. (Bt. slight chuckle) I like to think of Dad as this big *dog* -- you can pull his tail a few times, but as long as you throw him a dog biscuit, he'll roll right over an' fall back asleep. (Beat. Daria gets a hint of a smirk.) DARIA: While I wouldn't phrase it as *eloquently* as you have, I'll admit that those thoughts have crossed *my* mind as well. (Bt) Let's face it: it's pretty easy to underestimate Dad. QUINN: Yeah. DARIA: He's never been your quintessential Father of the Year. Half the time he can't remember your age, and the rest of the time, he solves problems just by showing you how much *worse* off you'd be if you were him. QUINN: Yeah. DARIA: Bu-ut... (Pause) if he wants to make it up to us, maybe we should try to *forget* about that stuff and give him a second chance. (Bt) I mean if we give up on him now, we'll never find out what he can do. (Pause) QUINN: (reflective) Yeah. (She sits there quietly for a few more seconds. Then gets up off the bed, walks toward the door.) (cut to: ) SCENE 8 (living room) (Shot of Jake sitting on the couch, still eating peanuts. Several are scattered in his hair -- all from vain attempts to catch them in his mouth. He suddenly gets a semi-alert look on his face.) JAKE: Quinn?? Didn't you want me to --? (turns his head toward the table, sees she's not there. his face takes on an even more glum expression, and he returns to watching TV.) (Suddenly, Quinn bounds over from the opposite direction. She flops down on the couch beside him.) QUINN: (playful) Da-ad, you silly! (reaches up and brushes the peanuts out of his hair.) Nut hair is so *not* a look you should go for. JAKE: (chuckling weakly) Oh... hmph. Sorry. QUINN: (faux exasperated) An' *when* are you gonna get around to helping me with math?? I really wouldn't feel good about tackling that new stuff Phelps gave me without *you* there. (Beat) JAKE: (face slowly brightening) So you mean... you *do* like having me help you?? QUINN: Duh! Sorry if I gave you the wrong idea a couple of days ago. JAKE: That's okay. But -- QUINN: An' I didn't mean to make it sound like I hated math -- 'cause I don't. I was just upset about other stuff. (Pause. Jake still looks stunned. Then he gets a goofy-happy look on his face.) JAKE: Aw sweetie -- (grabs Quinn in a bone-crunching hug. Quinn at first flinches with her usual disgust at being touched, then relaxes.) -- it's great to hear ya say that. I thought I'd let you down. QUINN: (drawing away gently) You, Dad? No way. JAKE: *Boy* that's great to hear -- *whooooooo*!! Yessir, that *sure* makes me feel better, it's like a big giant *ten*-pound weight just got *lifted* off my... (stops. frowns, shakes his head. looks at Quinn with a slightly uneasy expression.) But say, heh-heh, you aren't... um, I mean... you didn't, um, *say* that just to make your old man feel better. Did you? (Pause) QUINN: (with sincerity) No Dad. (fade-out. fade-in to: ) (A short time later. Quinn and Jake are sitting at the kitchen table, Quinn with her eyes on her math book. Jake is sitting there idly, thumbing through the newspaper, when suddenly he pauses to look at something in the Local News section.) JAKE: Hey, sweetheart, there's an article here about that Fashion Show thing you were talking about. QUINN: Really?? (leans over to look, then gets a slightly depressed look on her face, which she tries to conceal.) Cool. JAKE: Boy, looks like it's gonna be really *neat*. Schools from all over the county'll be there, an' there'll be big cosmetics companies an' fashion designers and models. (gets a dreamy look on his face.) *Famous* models. (Beat) QUINN: (quiet) Yeah. I know. (leans back toward her math book.) (Beat) JAKE: Gee, didn't you say *you* had something to do with that? (Beat) QUINN: Yeah, I organized it. JAKE: You?? This *big* thing all by yourself?? *Wow*... QUINN: Yeah. JAKE: (softly, with awe) Wow... my little girl... wow... (Pause. sympathetic) Hmm, too bad you can't be there tomorrow. QUINN: (shrugging, trying not to sound like it bothers her) No big deal. I'll just get Tiffany or Stacy to fill in as hostess. (Beat) JAKE: Yeah, but it was *you* who put it together... (Quinn looks at him with an expression that almost dares to be hopeful.) QUINN: So? JAKE: So, it's not fair for you to miss the final result. I mean... maybe... well. (exhales) Maybe I can, um, relax your grounding an' let you go after all. You could always hit the books in the evening. QUINN: You *mean* it?? JAKE: Yeah. QUINN: But... (shakes her head, overcome by her good fortune.) How d' you know I won't *trick* you into letting me stay out 'til late? (Jake frowns with thought at the possibility, then gets a resigned look on his face.) JAKE: Well, I guess I *don't*, really. (shrugs) But if this fashion thing means so much to you, I don't have the heart to keep you from going. (Pause. Quinn nods with agreement and muted gratitude.) JAKE: And besides, if you really *do* like math like you said, then nothing should keep you from wanting to come back and study. Should it? (Quinn stops nodding, gets a reflective look.) (cut to: ) SCENE 9 (on the phone, later that night) (Shot of Quinn in her room, dialing on the cell phone. Cut to shot of Tiffany in her room, posing in front of the mirror. Her phone starts ringing, she picks it up.) TIFFANY: Hello? (Split screen with Quinn on the right, Tiffany on the left.) QUINN: Hi, Tiffany? (urgent tone) Look, my parents won't let me out of the whole *stupid* grounding thing, so I'm gonna have to count on you to take my place at the Expo tomorrow. TIFFANY: Okay. QUINN: Now please, *please* tell me I can count on you to make sure things go all right. TIFFANY: Suuuuuuuuure, Quinn. (smirks.) (fade-out. fade-in to: ) SCENE 10 (Lawndale High, the gym, Saturday) (Shot of the outside. It's *pouring* rain. Cut to shot of one of the school hallways. Huge groups of people are crammed together in this narrow space, and booths are scattered here and there. The atmosphere is one of chaos, confusion, and flaring tempers.) (Cut to shot of the inside of the gym. There, in the background, we see more booths scattered around, and in the foreground, basketball players are jogging in circles, tossing a ball back and forth. Cut to close-up of the booths. We see Tiffany and Stacy standing with Mr. Reynaldo, who looks livid. A couple of his models are standing nearby, crying. Stacy is majorly hyperventilating.) STACY: Oh... God... *HGH*... she's gonna kill us... she's gonna *kill* us!!!! REYNALDO: (to Tiffany) *Veal*! I can't *believe* you ordered *veal* for lunch!! TIFFANY: Oops. REYNALDO: (face beet-red. spitting as he talks) And the sheer *idiocy* of setting us up next to a *fur* coat display is just *beyond* words!!! TIFFANY: Whoops. REYNALDO: This is the most *poorly*-organized fashion expo I've *ever* attended!! (points a finger at Tiffany and Stacy.) Yoooooou are a *DISGRACE*!!!!! (At that, Stacy bursts into tears and runs away. Reynaldo punches the air and storms off in the opposite direction, with the crying models close behind him.) TIFFANY: Ick. (Pause. Just then, we see Sandi come up to her.) SANDI: (vaguely sympathetic) Whoa, Tiff, I just *heard* what that guy said to you. Bummer. TIFFANY: Yeah. SANDI: Like, *why* would Quinn just put you in charge an' expect you to, like, *know* everything? That is *so* not fair to you. TIFFANY: Yeah. SANDI: *I* never would've done something like that. (Pause. Tiffany frowns slightly.) TIFFANY: Yeah. (fade-out. fade-in to: ) SCENE 11 (Morgendorffer house, that same time) (Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Quinn and Jake at the table, both apparently at work on a difficult problem. Quinn picks up a pencil, sees that it's one Jake used, because it has one of his cozies on the eraser. For a brief moment, Quinn gets an "Eww, *creepy*" frown on her face. Then her expression softens, she gives the pencil another look over, and shrugs a "What the hell?" Smirks ever-so-slightly, and gets back to work.) ********************** THE END [roll the credits.........................] COMMENTARY Of all my fanfics, this one's title was the most difficult to come up with. I wanted it to be a pun on a math term *and* make sense on its own. At long last, I chose "Of Absolute Value" because it refers to the "absolute value" of a number [that's -4 and 4 both = 4... to those of you for whom math is a *distant* memory -- the only reason *I* remember is 'cause I brushed up on it recently for the GRE] as well as to the value of Quinn's education *and* her relationship with Jake. Ah, Jake. I realize any portrayal of him as a semi-competent father is a bit of a stretch, but I felt like the time had come. My purpose in making Jake be Quinn's math guide was to place him in a fairly routine parenting situation, one where he could prove his skills, with long-lasting results. I ought to acknowledge that this certainly isn't the first fic in which Jake has tried to bond with his "girls" (John Berry's "Bond, Jake's Bond" springs to mind), but it may be the first where he bonds with one of them on an intellectual level... But he also connects with Quinn on a cuddly-dad level. For whatever reason, I see Jake as being the sort of father who, if given the chance, could be very cuddly... maybe because *my* dad is cuddly. :-) (The scenes where Jake is helping Quinn bear more than a slight resemblance to my high school days.) Hence, that's why you saw him nudging Quinn and trying to hug her and such. *And*, in spite of Quinn's aversion to being touched, I could see her softening under the cuddly approach more easily than Daria. That's 'cause *she* has a cuddly side, too: you can see it particularly in episodes like "Jake of Hearts." (In many ways, I feel as though Quinn is Jake's daughter, but that's something I'll go into another time.) Sorry I didn't portray Jake trying to bond with both Quinn *and* Daria. My reasons for not going that route were: 1) many fics have already shown Jake bonding with Daria. I felt in this situation, she knew intuitively that reaching out to Quinn was his way of trying to be a good *overall* father, not an act of favoritism. 2) I felt like Quinn really needed to make up for her behavior towards Jake in "That Thing You Say." There, if you recall, she used the words "I love you" to weasel the platinum credit card out of him (luckily with poor results). We can see that Quinn *does* care for him, as episodes like "Jake of Hearts" have shown, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't value him as a parent, and *that's* what I tried to have happen in this fic. Jake's goofy, clueless behavior here may have struck you as somewhat downplayed. Well, I had to downplay his clueless side in order to make the bonding believable, and by doing so, I was following the example of episodes where he was more "with-it," like "Daria!", "I Don't," or "Arts 'N' Crass." And *then* there's the major theme of "Quinn the Brain." In that episode, Quinn's intellectual prowess proved to be pretty hollow (or so we're led to believe); here, it's genuine. I wanted Quinn to be gifted in a subject, but not *genius*-level gifted; I also wanted for her intellect to seem like a natural part of her character -- hence, that's why I tied in her math capability with her ability to coordinate. :-) It's true that we have no *concrete* evidence that Quinn is closet-smart, but if Stacy can be portrayed as such, then why *not* Quinn? Besides, I truly think she does have intellectual gifts. It's *very* possible she shoved those gifts aside in order to focus on popularity, as I suggested in "Rose-Colored Lenses." I chose to make Quinn a math brain because 1) we already have Daria for an English/humanities brain, and 2) there is almost *no* attention given to math *or* science on "Daria." That's what made it so easy for me to create a math teacher: we've never *seen* a real one. Here, in addition to the one she gave in "Cheered Down," Quinn gave a reason for why she doesn't work harder at school: she doesn't think it will get her anywhere. I don't need to go into any more detail, since Helen and Jake's conversation in Act Three pretty much spells it out. But I will say that Quinn's defenses against caring about school are starting to crumble. And I *really* hope the show returns to this theme -- I'm surprised that beyond "Quinn the Brain," no attention whatsoever has been given to Quinn's grades. So overall, probably my most toned-down fic to date. Not super-funny, not super-serious, either. No one going at another person's throat, no plot lines so convoluted it's a wonder I made it through them alive. Nope -- this one was a relief to write after the torture I went through with "Outvoted," and hopefully the sweetness washed away some of the sourness of that fic... Now onto *Points of Interest*... Daria and jealousy: It's only hinted at here, but the issue of whether Daria could be jealous of Quinn's math prowess will be addressed in a future fic... Alfred Phelps: One thing that's missing from Lawndale High's band of stereotype teachers is the *prig*. That's why I took the liberty of creating Alfred Phelps, a fastidious and semi-formal teacher whose tastes are, perhaps, more suited to Quinn's than any other teacher's. In time, you'll learn whether Daria's suspicions of him are justified. Tiffany and Stacy: Hinted at in "Outvoted," but fleshed-out here, is the fact that Tiffany and Stacy have not sworn off Sandi as a friend. Chances are, when they dumped Sandi as Fashion Club president in favor of Quinn, they didn't have the foresight to realize that Sandi wouldn't settle for a lower-ranking position. Thus, Sandi's anger toward the club and Quinn's jealous protection of her position would come as a shock. And is it me, or did Tiffany act *stupider* in Season Three than in any other season? No, of course it's not me, 'cause already I can see the march of fanfiction toward making Tiffany slow-witted. *I'm* no exception in this case. Quinn gave Tiffany the chance to exercise some of that power she'd been wanting in "Cheered Down," and she totally *blew* it! (Did you *not* see that coming? :-) But still, I think it'd be too hasty of us to assume that instead of conniving, Tiffany is the Village Idiot. After all, we've only seen that she's slow at *reading*. While it's true that she often shoots off vapid and hilarious one-word sentences, it could be the case that she, like Quinn or Brittany, is just prone to *occasional* bouts of ditziness. Well okay, Brittany's aren't occasional, but still, you know what I mean... More on Sandi: I got all positive feedback on "Outvoted," which made my esteem for that fic increase dramatically. It seems as though in spite of my fears, what I had wanted to come across *came* across -- i.e: people could see Jane running for office, and could feel sorry for Sandi in spite of her nasty behavior towards Jane. But still, I got a little red in the face for how I portrayed her, after other recent fics ("Death of Stacy," "Cut Above," "She Was All That," etc.) brought out her softer side. Trust me, though, when I say that I have plans to delve into Sandi's character more in future fanfics -- especially fanfic #14 (yes, I'm writing more than thirteen!). There will be some twists that you won't be expecting -- but *realistic* twists. That's pretty much the rule in my universe. :-) Don't assume from the end of this fanfic that you know how things will turn out... And now for my new feature, **THE MYSTERIES OF** A part of my universe... until I find something better. ;-) Last time, I posed the question: "Why do I spell Eap E-A-P and not E-E-P??" The answer: because E-A-P represents the initials of the program (Education Abroad Program) I was a part of when I studied in England for a year, back in '97 and '98. It's kind of a way of letting my experience live, even though I'm no longer a part of it. Oh...... and also one of the first fanfics I read spelled Eap E-A-P, so I thought that was how it was spelled in Fanfictionland, and I started spelling it that way. So sue me. Okay, that was it. Next week, I'll have a new mystery to solve.... hahahahahaha... Time for some *OOPS*'s... At the top of "Outvoted," I apologized for not being able to fit Tom in... but I should also have apologized for not fitting *Mack* in!!! In the original version I sent out, Jodie's beau was nowhere to be found. The minute I noticed, I made a tiny couple of adjustments, inserting Mack into one or two scenes, then resent out the fic. Funny thing is, though, *no one* commented on his absence. Poor Mack -- may someone do him justice [eh-hem, Bob Marley?]... Also, this is one I'd meant to add a while ago, but kept putting off. A couple of people pointed out to me that in one of the "Daria" books, Quinn had already considered cheerleading, but decided against it because she didn't like the idea of wearing the same uniform as the other cheerleaders. Well, my thoughts on that are as follows: when Quinn joined the cheerleading team at the end of "Andrea Speaks!", it was at Brittany's strong urging, when Quinn was feeling very insecure about herself. She wanted to find a way to still be popular after being ousted from the Fashion Club for wearing glasses, and the cheerleading team seemed like the best way. The glasses already made her feel too different from other popular people, so Quinn was anxious to blend in with the rest of the cheerleaders -- hence, the same uniform. Whew... probably didn't need to go that much into detail, but once I started, I couldn't stop... :-) If you'd like to join my mailing list, e-mail me at scar@uclink4.berkeley.edu. To those of you who have my stuff showing at your web sites: if you don't have a URL, and I haven't sent you my latest fic(s), just write a polite e-mail to bug me... :-) Thaaaaanks... fooooooor... reeeeeeead... iiiiiiing. Thank *you*, Tiffany. Okay, that was very un-P.C., I'm sorry. Thanks for reading! :-) This fanfic is the property of Kara Wild, copyright October 1999. All rights reserved.