"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 twenty-second and final 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," 9) "Outvoted," 
10) "Of Absolute Value," 11) "Breaking the Mold," 12) "Surreal World," 13) 
"Erin the Head," 14) "Primarily Color," 15) "The Age of Cynicism," 16) "Charge 
of the Math Brigade,"17) "An Uneasy Marriage," 18) "In Her Own Words," 
19) "All But Forgotten," 20) "Memory Road," and 21) "Into the Fire."


For the final episode, I'll be scrapping my usual three Acts in favor of seven.  
Yes, seven.  And it will be commercial-free!  Hey, they did it for the final
"Daria" movie, "Is It College Yet?".   
 

[intro theme music...................]

TOMORROW NEVER KNOWS -- by Kara Wild


ACT ONE

SCENE 1 (Lane residence, afternoon)

(Daria comes up to the front door, rings the bell, and knocks urgently.)

(Inside, Jane walks down the stairs, toward the door.)

JANE:  All right, already.  You Jehovah's Witnesses sure don't take burning 
effigies in the front yard for an answer, do you?

(She opens the door, sees Daria's stricken expression.)

JANE:  Daria.  You did it?  You had it out with Phelps?

DARIA: (stiff)  Yes, but don't worry... the numbness and chills have worn off.
All that's left is the pain.
 
(Jane ushers Daria inside and closes the door.)
 
JANE:  I take it your tete-a-tete didn't go so well.
 
DARIA:  Let's just say I'm no Clarence Darrow.  When faced with someone who 
can mount an effective attack, I fall to pieces.
 
JANE:  Come on, I'm sure you didn't do *that* badly.
 
DARIA:  Well, I couldn't get him to transfer Quinn from his class.  I couldn't 
get him to admit to any wrongdoing.  I showed all my cards by admitting I 
knew about his past.  Oh yes, and I also confessed that I loved Big Brother.
 
JANE:  So it wasn't your most shining moment.  I told you Phelps isn't easy 
to intimidate.
 
DARIA:  More like *he* got to me.  I see now why Quinn finds it so hard to 
ignore him.  He has this way of looking at you like he *knows* you better 
than you know yourself.
 
JANE:  Oh yeah, the eye thing.  I should have warned you about that -- first 
they stare at you really hard, and then they narrow, like he's locked in on
a target and about to burn it to pieces with a wave of hypnotic energy.  He
makes those kids from "Village of the Damned" look like "The Bad News Bears."
 
(She distorts her eyes in demonstration.)
 
DARIA:  Thank you.  I was at the live event -- I don't need a replay.
 
JANE:  That look made me hit the math book harder than I ever thought 
possible.  And occasionally lose total bladder control. 
 
(Daria shoots her a look of disgust.) 
 
JANE:  Kidding!  Seriously, though, I'm sure you did the best you could.
 
DARIA:  Which wasn't enough.  I feel like I'm running out of options.
 
JANE:  Well, you could --
 
DARIA:  Except for *that* one.  (She sighs, then glances at the clock.)  
Do any of your clocks give accurate time?
 
JANE:  The one on the TV Guide Channel just told me it was four o'clock.
 
DARIA:  I hope she isn't in court today.  I want to talk to her without Quinn
overhearing.
 
JANE:  Daria, did something else happen?  You look so shaken, I was on the 
verge of asking you to lie down.
 
DARIA:  Phelps said that if I went public with my concerns, he would retaliate.  
He also said...
 
JANE:  What?
 
DARIA:  ... that I was just like him.  Or rather, that he used to be like me, 
until circumstances turned him into a bitter jerk with the uncanny mannerisms 
of Nosferatu.
 
JANE:  He was just trying to scare you.
 
DARIA:  Right.  (frowns)  Good thing *that* didn't work.

(cut to: )

SCENE 2 (The Settlement, later)

HELEN:  He *threatened* you?!

(Helen and Daria sit at one of the corner tables.  Daria has finished telling 
her mother her past suspicions of Phelps and their most recent run-in.)

HELEN:  I *knew* there was something I didn't like about that man!  The way 
he acted like he always knew *so* more than everyone else!  And now, 
threatening a defenseless teenager?!

(She reaches down into her briefcase and pulls out a notepad and pen.) 

HELEN:  Well he's not going to get away with this!  I want to know *everything*, 
Daria!  Tell me exactly what he said.

DARIA:  Just that he knew information that could make my year and even my future
very difficult.

HELEN:  What sort of information?

DARIA:  I told you: I worked on an underground newspaper.  My articles were 
frank and even a bit harsh, but I didn't do anything wrong.  Unless he meant 
my keeping an army of mutant squirrels in the backyard.    

HELEN:  Did he elaborate?

DARIA:  No.  His tone filled in the gaps well enough.

(Helen jots this down.)

HELEN:  Can you recall anything more concrete?  It would really help your case.  

DARIA:  They don't convict people in court on the basis of tone?

HELEN:  Unfortunately, no.

DARIA:  I was afraid you'd say that.

HELEN:  Getting back to the problem sets he had for Quinn: Did you keep a 
copy of one?  Something that could be cross checked with an actual system 
of bank account numbers?

DARIA: (cheeks reddening)  No.  I might have, but Quinn caught me snooping 
and since then has kept her door firmly locked at all times.

HELEN:  This man you met, this Marshall, did he describe in detail how the 
account theft system worked?

DARIA:  You mean besides the fact that it siphoned money? 

(She shakes her head.  Helen smiles, but can't hide the fact that she was
expecting to hear more.)

DARIA:  Why don't you just say it?  I've got nothing on this guy.

HELEN:  That's *not* what I was... though I'm glad you came to me before 
your principal or the police.  If you had gotten Mr. Phelps into trouble, 
he could have sued us for defamation of character, and without evidence to 
back up your claims, we could have been forced to pay him thousands of dollars.

DARIA:  Would you have rather I minded my own business and let Quinn continue 
with actions that were possibly illegal?   

HELEN:  Of course not.  It was very sweet of you to look out for your sister 
-- but there were better ways you could have done it.  How do you think Quinn
would react if you pulled her out of her favorite class without consulting her? 

DARIA:  Pretty upset.  

HELEN:  I just don't understand why you never came to us.

DARIA:  Maybe out of dread that my suspicions would be shot down.

HELEN:  Daria, I was just being realistic.

DARIA:  So am I.  Don't you remember when Quinn's teacher first got hyper-
involved in her studies?  I raised some concerns then, and you jumped on the
Phelps-is-God bandwagon.

HELEN:  But we had no reason to assume anything *bad* had happened.  If Quinn 
had told us her teacher wanted her to cheat, it would have been different.

DARIA:  She only told *me* because she knew I was suspicious.  If I'd revered 
him like you and Dad, I would still be in the dark.

HELEN:  We were trying to *help* her.

DARIA:  And you did it by making me look like a jealous brat, undermining my 
already shaky credibility with Quinn.  That's why I didn't come to you before.  
I almost didn't come to you today.

(Helen looks at her, her expression growing weary.)

HELEN:  I didn't realize we did that.  I'm sorry.   

DARIA:  And truth be told, over the past few months, neither you nor Dad were 
in any position to hear my vague conspiracy theories.  Before the separation, 
Dad was always out in the evenings and you were too busy tending to your 
personal crisis.

HELEN:  Daria, you and Quinn *are* my personal crisis.  I mean --

DARIA:  I get what you mean.  But there were times when you seemed so out of 
it, I wasn't sure if you remembered your own name.

(Helen closes her mouth and reflects upon her depression, knowing that 
Daria is closer to the truth than she realizes.)

HELEN:  I know I haven't been the greatest mom to either of you lately.  
I've made a lot of decisions that I wish I could take back. (catch in her 
voice.)  But believe me when I say that I love you both more than anything 
in the world.  I just want you girls to get everything you want out of life, 
to achieve what I know you could.  You know that, don't you?

(Daria sees her mother's eyes grow bright with tears.)

DARIA:  Yeah... I do.

HELEN:  Your father feels the same way.  I don't want you to ever think we'd 
place our problems ahead of yours.

DARIA:  So if I find you choking to death, I shouldn't let that stop me 
from talking about my "not so fresh" feeling?
 
(Helen lets out a little tension-easing laugh.)

DARIA:  Thanks, Mom.  That means a lot.  I just wish I had gotten real 
evidence before giving you a scare.

HELEN:  Maybe you don't have it now, but that doesn't mean it isn't there.  

DARIA:  So you believe me?

HELEN:  I believe *in* you.  You're too smart and too levelheaded to stick 
with paranoid conclusions, Daria.  If you really think Quinn's teacher is up 
to something, you'll find the evidence to prove it.  We'll get to the 
bottom of this, somehow.

DARIA:  "We"?

HELEN:  You're not in this alone... you never were.  All I ask is that you 
not make rash decisions or go behind your sister's back, okay?

DARIA:  You mean like right now?

HELEN:  Er... anymore.

(She smiles wryly at Daria, and Daria smirks back, feeling the tension ease
from her shoulders.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 3 (Quinn's room, later)

QUINN:  Mom, I can't believe she would lie to me.

(Helen stands over Quinn, who sits on the bed, her hostility toward her 
mother temporarily overcome by hurt feelings toward her sister.) 

QUINN:  Daria said she would stop acting jealous and treat me like I was 
smart.  She sounded so sincere, I really believed her.

HELEN:  Quinn, think about it carefully for a moment.  Would your sister 
really go to so much trouble if she were only jealous?

(Quinn gazes down at the floor, her brow furrowing, trying to shut out her 
mother's words and the unwanted thoughts that come with them.)

QUINN:  Maybe she just doesn't *think* she's jealous.

HELEN:  I think she was concerned.  And hearing her details, so am I, a little.
Is there anything you could tell me to prove they aren't true?

(Quinn fixes her gaze on the floor.)

HELEN:  Quinn, look at me.  Please.  Is any of it true?  

QUINN:  Mom, you and Dad have seen me working on really hard math problems 
before.  There's no way it can all be stuff that Mr. Phelps made up to rob a 
bank, or whatever. 

HELEN:  Honey, no one's saying *everything* you've done is suspect.  Could I 
look at one of the problem sets she mentioned?  

QUINN:  I don't have them.  I gave all of that statistics stuff to Mr. Phelps.

HELEN:  And you're *sure* he never said anything to you that seemed ethically
challenged?  That you felt was wrong?

(Quinn bites her lip, her face clouding over in thought.)

QUINN:  No.

HELEN:  Not even when you were on the mathletics team?

QUINN:  I said *no*.

HELEN:  Quinn.

(Quinn meets her mother's eyes, and her startled expression gives way to 
one of pain.)  

QUINN:  She told you?  

HELEN:  About your teacher giving you problems that were going to be used 
in the tournaments?  Is it --

QUINN: (flustered)  He was just trying to prepare me.  After I messed up 
against Cumberland, he gave me some problems to build my confidence.

HELEN:  *Were* they actual --

QUINN:  He didn't -- I wouldn't -- I didn't cheat.  Did she tell you 
I cheated?!

HELEN:  She said nothing of the sort.  Just that that's what you told her, 
and she was worried.

QUINN:  I would never cheat, Mom!   

HELEN:  I believe you.  

(She strokes Quinn's hair, and Quinn exhales shakily, her shoulders 
relaxing.  Helen, however, cannot keep her growing concern at bay.)  

HELEN:  All the same, I think I'll give Mr. Phelps a call.

QUINN:  Why?!

HELEN:  Because I want to trust him the same way.  Besides, I'm long 
overdue for another talk with him, and what kind of mother would I be 
if I didn't keep tabs on your teachers?  

(Quinn's expression turns stony.  She leans back so that Helen can no 
longer touch her.)  

HELEN:  Honey, I don't blame you for feeling upset -- but I'm doing this 
to help you, not punish you.  And I'm pretty sure that if you asked Daria, 
she would tell you the same.

(Quinn leans all the way back, so her back is against the mattress and she 
faces the ceiling.)  

HELEN:  Just give it some thought, would you?

(She waits for a reply, and when she doesn't get one, sighs quietly and leaves 
the room.  Alone, Quinn stares at the ceiling with pained, searching eyes.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 4 (Phelps's house, evening)

(Shot of the outside reveals a two-story gray-stoned house surrounded by several 
trees, quiet enough to suggest that it is a bit removed from a typical
subdivision.)

PHELPS: (V.O.)  Mrs. Morgendorffer, I can assure you...

(Cut to shot of Phelps seated in an upholstered chair in his private office.  He
has papers spread out before him, but his attention is on the phone call.  He
presses his lips together, barely able to contain his impatience.)

PHELPS:  Mrs. Mor-- Mrs.... Yes, I understand.  *Yes*.

HELEN: (from the phone)  Then you'll understand that I take threats against my 
children *very* seriously!

PHELPS:  I was just surprised by her request and my temper got away from me.  
You know how that goes.  But I meant *nothing* by it --  

HELEN: (O.S.)  I expect a full apology *first* thing tomorrow.

PHELPS:  Yes, yes, and I'll say right now that I am deeply sorry my intentions
were so misunderstood.  I -- 

(Phelps finds himself cut off and taps a pencil against the arm of his chair.)

PHELPS:  Mathletics problems?  (Pause)  The ones I gave Quinn were just accurate
*examples*, not the problems themselves.  I couldn't possibly know -- 

(Cut off again, he beats his pencil against the chair harder.)  

PHELPS:  Practice problems or statistics sheets, I assure you that I would 
never give my students work that wasn't completely legitimate.

(Cut to shot of Helen in the Morgendorffers' kitchen, the phone to her ear.  
She stands over the stove, emptying a bag of peas into boiling water.)

HELEN:  Then you wouldn't mind faxing a few statistic sheets to my office 
tomorrow so I can take a look at them.  My fax number is 555-3455 -- that's 
555-3455, *not* 555-3454.  I will *not* have another situation where that 
Lindsay Pearlman can read my private materials.  He turns every little thing 
into a *huge* disaster, and -- well I'm *sorry* your pencil broke, go find 
another one.

(Quinn walks down the stairs, overhearing this last bit.  She cringes -- this
isn't exactly the "talking" she had expected.) 

HELEN:  And *while* we're on the subject, Quinn has fallen behind in several
of her classes and my phone has been *ringing* off the hook with teachers 
calling to complain, so I *strongly* suggest you put a stop to these extra 
assignments until she's caught up -- you do know she has *six* other classes?

(Daria reads at the table.  Over the rim of her book, she sees Quinn walk 
slowly over to her chair.  Their eyes meet for a moment; then Quinn sits down, 
her expression subdued, but not unfriendly.)

(Cut to shot of Phelps in his office, beating a new pencil to ruin.)

PHELPS:  I'm of the old school, you see, Mrs. Morg-- (Cut off again, he tosses 
his pencil aside and takes a blank sheet of paper.)  Where I'm from, students
in their teens immerse themselves in a few select subjects for their A-level
exams.  I *still* think that is the best approach, but for Quinn's sake, I'll
allow her to catch up in her other classes.  All right?  (He listens and tears 
off a scrap of paper.)  Very good, then.  (Pause)  Yes, you, too.  (Pause)  And
*yes*, once again, I apologize for speaking so harshly to your older daughter.  
(Pause)  I certainly will from now on.  (Pause)  Have a pleasant evening.     

(He lays the phone down hard in its cradle and puts the paper aside.  He then 
runs his hands across what remains of his hair and, for a few moments, stares
stonily at the open door in front of him.)

PHELPS:  Marshall.  (louder)  *Marshall*.

(After a few beats of silence, a quiet pattering is heard in the hallway, and 
Marshall Winsett pops his head in the doorway.)

MARSHALL:  Did you want something, love?
 
PHELPS:  Could you come in here for a moment, please?
 
(Marshall walks in and moves to give him an affectionate embrace and kiss on 
the cheek, but notices that his partner isn't reciprocating.) 
 
MARSHALL:  You look a bit frightened, Alfie.  What's the matter?
 
PHELPS: (draws away)  I had a very interesting meeting with a student earlier
today.
 
MARSHALL:  Really?  What about?
 
PHELPS:  She told me that she knew about my past.  The parts I wouldn't want made
public.
 
(Marshall's expression remains unchanged, but he stands up straighter and moves 
to face his partner.)
 
PHELPS:  Assuming she was telling the truth, I tried to think of who might have
tipped her off, and knew of only one person still living in the area.  (expression
hardens.)  Marshall, did you speak to a Ms. Daria Morgendorffer recently?
 
(Marshall doesn't speak for a beat or two.  Then his shoulders sink.)
 
MARSHALL: (soft)  I just wanted to find out what she knew.  Very little, it 
turned out.
 
PHELPS:  So you decided to fill her in?
 
MARSHALL:  Please don't look at me that way, Alfred.  As far as she knows, 
they're only rumors.
 
PHELPS:  "Rumors"?  (He laughs softly, angrily.)  As if that made any difference
at all.  You don't know this girl, Marshall.  She's extremely self-righteous and
invested in her version of the truth.  Now that you've encouraged her, she'll keep
digging until she's found something incriminating.  Why in God's name did you tell
her anything?
 
MARSHALL:  I wasn't going to, but something about her struck a chord inside me.  
She sounded so concerned.
 
PHELPS:  If I didn't love you, I would be phoning my lawyer about now.
 
MARSHALL:  She's Quinn's sister, isn't she?
 
(Phelps's cheeks color at the sound of her name.)
 
PHELPS:  Yes, she is.
 
MARSHALL:  I thought so.  I couldn't remember Quinn's last name, but knew it was
similar.  When her sister mentioned that she didn't want someone close to her to
get hurt, I made the connection.  And I wondered... what exactly are you doing
with this girl, Alfred?
 
PHELPS:  Her sister -- concerned?  (Again, he chuckles with disgust.)  You have 
no idea what sort of family Quinn comes from.  A mother who, a few days every
month, remembers that she's supposed to be a parent.  A father so self-absorbed
and ignorant that he can barely keep track of his children's ages.  And a sister
so invested in being right, so sure of her own brilliance, that she regularly
insults Quinn's intelligence to keep her under control.  The only thing she was
*concerned* about was having her own prejudices confirmed.
 
MARSHALL:  She seemed sincere enough when I met with her.
 
PHELPS:  Yes, well, you always were a soft touch.  Believe me, the only thing
I'm doing is giving Quinn a sense of the possible that she never got at home.    
 
MARSHALL:  So you're not...?
   
(Phelps stares at him, hurt and anger clouding his expression.)
 
PHELPS:  You don't trust me.  You've never trusted me, not since...
 
MARSHALL:  Please, Alfred, I've *tried* to trust you.  It's just that for the
past several months, I've felt as though you're keeping things from me.  Your
attentiveness to that Quinn girl just reminded me...
 
PHELPS: (pained smile)  How can I convince you that things are different now, 
that I've changed?   
 
MARSHALL:  By telling me the truth.  Not that you aren't, just that if you found
yourself in any sort of trouble, you would tell me.
 
PHELPS:  I'm your partner, Marshall, not some stupid, wayward child to be kept
in line.  If we don't have basic trust between us, we don't have anything.
 
MARSHALL:  Please, Alfie, I didn't mean it that way.
 
PHELPS:  From the moment you asked me to, I've stopped siphoning money.  I've
shown you the balance sheets -- all of my foreign accounts with their zero
amounts.  I got a fresh start at Lawndale and you still won't let it rest.  
I feel as though nothing I do is ever good enough for you, Marshall.
 
MARSHALL:  Oh darling, please.  

PHELPS:  I finally found some peace, a renewed sense of purpose, and you had 
to go dredge up the past.

MARSHALL:  Alfie, I love you!  I've been with you for fifteen years -- do you
really think one instance of theft is going to change that?
 
PHELPS:  I love you, too.  But your meeting with that Morgendorffer girl 
has really rattled my faith.  How do I know that you won't meet with her
again, or her mother, or whomever else she drags into the mix?
 
MARSHALL:  She doesn't know my relation to you, and no one was with her when we
met.  If she comes snooping about some more, I'll just deny I said anything.
 
PHELPS:  Marshall, I want to believe you...  (He looks at him probingly, then 
turns his face away.) ...but I know you.  You still want to turn me in to the 
Fielding board to satisfy your conscience. 
 
MARSHALL:  I would never... you said you had stopped, so...
 
PHELPS:  Of course, if you did, they would want to know why you, a Fielding
administrator, have kept it under your hat for so long.  That could lead to 
quite a scandal.  The honorable Mr. Winsett, one of the Winsetts of Highbury,
standing by while the gay lover he never mentions stole money from Fielding 
parents.
 
(Marshall's face loses some expression.)
 
PHELPS:  Imagine your colleagues, all of the students with whom you've worked,
what they would say.  And your family -- aside from the stain on their
reputation, they would finally learn that you're "that way." (lips curl a
little.)  You would finally have to tell them. 
  
MARSHALL:  I told you I love you, Alfred.  I'll stand by you.

PHELPS:  Thank you, Marshall. 
 
(Marshall walks toward the door, then pauses and looks back at Phelps.)
 
MARSHALL:  You say that you love me, too.  Yet sometimes...
 
PHELPS:  What?
 
MARSHALL:  Never mind.
 
(He leaves.  Phelps watches after him, his mouth slightly ajar, as if preparing 
to ask a question.  He finally closes it and looks at the door with a mixture of
wariness and sadness, then stands up and walks over to one of the shelves.)

PHELPS: (soft, musing)  If she won't stop... someone will have to stop her.

(He reaches above his head and pulls down one of several file folders, then 
fingers the newsprint inside.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 5 (Lawndale High, the next day)
 
(Daria and Jane walk down the hallway, between classes.)
 
JANE:  So Helen's sweet talking paid off, did it?
 
DARIA:  From the way she was ranting, it was hard to tell, but I think 
he's going to stop giving Quinn extra assignments.
 
JANE:  Then why the extra-thick air of gloom?
 
DARIA:  It just felt so easy.  Too easy.

(They turn a corner in the direction of O'Neill's room -- and run smack 
into Ms. Li.)

MS. LI:  Darierrr... just the person I wanted to see.

(Daria looks at Jane, then at their principal.)

DARIA:  Regarding?

MS. LI:  We'll discuss that in my office.  Come with me.

(She motions for Daria to follow and Daria does so slowly, with more fear 
than she would have guessed possible.  Jane watches her with concern.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 6 (Ms. Li's office)

(Daria sits across from Ms. Li, who holds up an underground newspaper.)

MS. LI:  Does *this* look familiar to you?

DARIA:  They pass it around school twice a month.

MS. LI:  You *wrote* for this paper, didn't you?

DARIA:  Who told you that?

MS. LI:  I'm not at liberty to divulge my sources.

DARIA:  Just tell me if it was a student.

MS. LI:  *What* did I just say, Ms. Morgendorffer?!  The point is that you 
were fingered as one of the writers for a paper that has made some scandalous
charges against Lllllawndale High.

DARIA:  Were they true?

MS. LI:  No, they were not true!  What sort of banana republic do you think 
I *run* here?!  (As Daria opens her mouth.)  *Don't* answer.  I don't need 
to hear any of your smart-mouthed comments.  I just want the truth!

(Daria feels a chill.  She thinks about the fates of her former peers on the
underground and, after her encounter with Phelps, the way total truth could 
be used against her.  At the same time, she is convinced of her innocence 
and that she shouldn't have to act like she has something to hide.  She 
finally heaves a sigh.)

DARIA:  Yes, I wrote for the underground newspaper.  My articles were 
carefully researched, and I left before the paper started printing most 
of the inflammatory items you mentioned. 

MS. LI:  And you *never* knew of any wrongdoing?

DARIA:  Only one article, but I wasn't involved.

MS. LI:  Then whyyyy didn't you turn this delinquent in to the proper
authorities??

DARIA:  The writer wasn't a student here.

MS. LI:  Is that really an *excuse*?! 

DARIA:  I thought the article was clumsy, but I didn't know it was wrong.  
I wasn't in charge of editorial decisions.

MS. LI:  So you just *let* these callous and untrue comments cirrrculate 
the school without repercussion?!

DARIA:  Instead of firebombing the newspaper pile, like I should have?

MS. LI:  This is no joke!

DARIA:  Neither's the sight of two hundred students running for their life 
from a raging inferno.  

MS. LI:  Ms. Morgendorffer, these articles over the past year have been the
greatest threat to Llllllllllawndale High ever.  Forget random lawsuits for
discrimination or a possible murderer running for class president -- *this*
is a concerted effort to undermine the school and all who hold it dear.

DARIA:  In order to do what?  Establish a biker bar in its place?  

MS. LI:  I should think *you* would know that answer.  I'll have you know that 
I won't sit idly by while miscreants try to drive me out!  Drastic situations 
call for drastic measures, which I am more than prepared to take.

DARIA:  You're acting as though I ran the paper myself.  I didn't even decide
which articles went beneath the masthead.  Why should *I* be responsible for 
an article that I had no part of, which wasn't even written by a student here?

MS. LI:  And how am I supposed to *know* that?  

DARIA: (eyes narrow)  Ask Damien Crawley.  He could tell you.

MS. LI:  Yes, well, that may be.  But how do I know you had nothing to do 
with any of the other *libelous* articles printed here?

DARIA:  My pen name is Erasmus.  Look it up for yourself.

MS. LI:  I'll just do that.  And until we get to the bottom of this, Ms. 
Morgendorffer, I have no choice but to suspend you.

DARIA:  What??  

MS. LI:  You may be innocent of all charges, but your association with 
this sordid rag says *deeply* disturbing things about your character.  I
therefore can't trust you to be around other students.

DARIA: (growing angry)  Why not?  They just ignore me, anyway.

MS. LI:  And might I say I'm *surprised* at you, Darierrr.  I had you pegged 
as a disgruntled misfit, but not a bomb thrower.  Clearly my psychological
evaluations need to be revamped.

DARIA:  I told you, I didn't do anything wrong.

MS. LI:  So for *one* week, starting tomorrow, you are not to come anywhere 
near the premises.

(Daria feels another shiver, remembering Andrea.)

DARIA:  And then what?

MS. LI:  And then maybe you'll think *twice* about your rehhhckless behavior.  
(groans with disgust.)  Stay right there while I phone your parents.

(Daria remains still, assessing her punishment.)

DARIA:  Just one week?  

MS. LI:  Keep talking, and it will be more.  

(Daria watches her dial the phone, feeling both anger and relief.)


END OF ACT ONE



ACT TWO

SCENE 1 (Lawndale High, same day)
 
(Quinn walks up to Phelps's classroom and stands outside, looking in.  She 
watches him fill the blackboard with equations, as he does before every
class.  Her face grows pensive and nervous.)
 
SANDI: (O.S.)  WATCH it, you *creep*!
 
(Quinn jumps, then swerves to look.  Nearby, Sandi stands with her back to 
the lockers, glaring at Skylar Feldman, who stands over her.)
 
SKYLAR:  Come *on*, Sandi, I'd think you'd be used to that by now.
 
(He leans in toward her, and Sandi pushes him away.)
 
SANDI:  Try that again, you *pervert*, and I'll have every girl in school 
spitting on you.
 
SKYLAR: (laughs)  Oh really?  Just how many friends do you think you have?
(Sandi's glare darkens.)  Because from what I've seen, most girls seem to
think you're a lying backstabber.  I've probably given you more attention in
one minute than they've given you in a week.
 
QUINN:  Which is one minute too long.
 
(Skylar spins around and looks at Quinn, now standing just behind him.  Sandi 
gets a look of faint relief.)
 
SKYLAR:  Whoa.  Didn't mean to get your tampon in a twist, Quinn.
 
QUINN:  Oh grow up, you jerk.  Sandi doesn't fall for you, so you treat her 
like a rip in your leather interior?  She's got a lot more friends than she 
knows. (crosses her arms.)  And some of them could tell the school about 
that little problem you have with your *nose* running whenever you make out.
 
(Skylar goes pale.)
 
SKYLAR:  You wouldn't --
 
QUINN:  Try me.
 
(Skylar stares at her, before his bravado re-emerges.)
 
SKYLAR:  Threatened by Phelps's "special friend"?  I'm really scared.
 
QUINN:  What?!  He is *so* gay.  He told me.
 
SKYLAR:  Not what we see.  (smiles)  Ciao, ladies. 
 
(Sandi and Quinn stare after him murderously.)
 
SANDI & QUINN:  *Loser*.

QUINN:  Sandi, what's going on?  You're not really letting guys... do stuff 
to you, are you?
 
SANDI:  *Great*, not you, too. 
  
QUINN:  So it's not true?
 
SANDI:  What do you think, you idiot?  
 
(Quinn's eyes narrow at her insult, but she persists.)
 
QUINN:  Then why don't you *tell* people?  Sandi, you disappear every day and 
you don't say where you went, and people have seen you walking around town with
strange guys.  So some rumors spread that you're... you *know*, and you could 
get rid of them if you just told the truth.  So why don't you?
 
SANDI: (sneer)  *Sure* I will.  When you stop *doing* it with Mr. Phelps.
 
(Quinn's mouth drops open and her face reddens.)
 
QUINN:  You *know* I haven't --!
 
SANDI:  *Relax*, Quinn.  I was just making a point.       
 
(Quinn realizes that she jumped to conclusions unfairly.)
 
SANDI:  We both know people will believe what they *want* to believe.
 
QUINN:  But your friends will believe you.  Look, Stacy, Tiffany, and I have 
been kind of worried.  It's not the rumors, it's that you've been so distant.  
We just want to know what's happening with you.
 
(Sandi looks at her, debates whether to tell, then rolls her eyes with disgust.)
 
SANDI:  You wouldn't believe me if I told you.
 
(She walks away in a huff, as Quinn stares at her, dumbfounded.)
 
QUINN:  I would, too!
 
(Knowing Sandi is beyond earshot, she turns and walks slowly to Phelps's room.)
 
(cut to: )
 
SCENE 2 (Phelps's classroom)
 
(Quinn enters and stands at the back of the room.  Unable to shake the
conversation with Helen or Skylar's sneering insinuations, she remains 
silent, until Phelps feels her presence and turns around.)
 
PHELPS:  Ms. Morgendorffer, you're two periods early.  What's the occasion?
 
QUINN:  Oh, I... um...

(She walks toward him, trying to gather her thoughts.)

QUINN:  I just wanted to say sorry for the way my mother yelled at you 
yesterday.  She's always so into her job, she never knows what she's 
talking about.
 
PHELPS: (smiles)  Now, now, she wouldn't be a mother if she weren't
overprotective.  

QUINN: (forced laugh)  I can't believe she thought you were making me do 
bad things.  That's just stupid... right?

PHELPS:  I'd prefer "a misunderstanding."  The intensity with which I've 
been training you can be very unsettling to someone on the outside.  Be 
gentle with her: She couldn't have known that you've finished my last 
project and I was going to set you free anyway.
 
QUINN:  Yeah.  (She feels herself relaxing, then frowns as the meaning 
of his words sinks in.)  It's gonna be weird not coming to your classroom 
after school. 
 
PHELPS:  For me as well.  When we started, I never dreamt I would get so 
much reward from our time.
 
QUINN:  Mr. Phelps?  Does this mean you and I won't be...
 
PHELPS:  Won't be...?
 
QUINN:  That, um, we won't talk to each other and stuff outside of class?
 
PHELPS: (understands)  We'll always be friends, Ms. Morgendorffer.
 
QUINN:  Oh.  Good.  (She exhales, surprised by her relief.)  I know some 
students think I'm dumb for spending so much time with you, but I like 
being friends with a teacher.
 
PHELPS:  And I've grown rather fond of you.  I'll admit, when I first set eyes 
on you, I dismissed you as one of the "lost causes" -- a student who cared
so much about the superficial that no amount of pushing would bring her grade
above a C.  But you surprised me with your vibrancy and focus.  I'm very proud 
of you for the progress you've made over the past year.

QUINN: (sheepish)  Mr. Phelps, what... made you *know* that I was worth looking 
out for?  Compared to the really good students?
 
(Phelps leans against the edge of his desk, wearing a thoughtful expression.)
 
PHELPS:  I can't recall the specific test, but I remember that I had added a 
bonus question with more twists and turns than the average problem, plus one
unexpected step.  Everyone got it wrong, including my A students.  It wasn't 
in the textbook, so they couldn't study it.  Only *one* person guessed 
correctly.

QUINN: (remembers)  *Oh*. 

PHELPS:  I asked you to come see me after class and explain how you had solved 
the problem.  I thought that if you'd cheated, I would find out then.  But you
explained your steps from start to finish.  I asked, "How did you know how to 
do this?"  And you said...

QUINN:  How else could it be done?       

PHELPS:  That's exactly right.  It was so instinctive, you just *knew* -- never 
dreaming that other students wouldn't have done the same thing.  Many students 
are smart enough to learn the right steps and apply them quickly.  Fewer have 
the innate ability to think outside the box.  That's when I realized that you 
were special and decided to keep an eye on you.  

(Quinn smiles, her face flushing at his praise.)

PHELPS:  My only concern was whether you had the drive to achieve.  But you did
it.  Before long, you didn't even need my help anymore.  You did it on your own. 

(Quinn's eyes meet those of Mr. Phelps.  For once, she doesn't feel a sense 
of intimidation or awe, but rather that she is with an equal, and that he feels
the same way about her.)

QUINN: (shy)  I'd better go to my next class.
 
PHELPS:  Yes, you wouldn't want to be late. 

(Quinn turns and starts to head out.  Then she turns back.)

QUINN:  Mr. Phelps, why wouldn't you let me take the Advanced Placement exam?

(Phelps stares at her.  He was unprepared for this shift in subject matter.)

PHELPS:  Oh yes, that.  You see, more seniors had passed into the A.P.-level
classes than I had anticipated, which left no room for junior transfers such 
as yourself.  It had nothing to do with my confidence in your ability.  

QUINN:  That's the only reason?

PHELPS:  Yes.  When the next exam period comes along, you'll be signed up.

(The worry that briefly imprinted itself on Quinn's face eases slowly.)

PHELPS:  As I told your sister --

QUINN:  You talked to Daria?

(Phelps notes the surprise in her tone, and his expression relaxes.)

PHELPS:  We spoke yesterday.  

QUINN:  What did she want?

PHELPS:  Well... (He pauses to look about the classroom, which is still 
empty of students.)  She was trying to transfer you out of my class.

(The color drains from Quinn's cheeks.)

QUINN:  What?

PHELPS:  She was very insistent, no matter how often I told her that it 
was *your* decision, not hers.

QUINN:  Why would she do that?

PHELPS:  That's a very good question, Ms. Morgendorffer.  

QUINN:  She was acting weird, saying you were trying to get me to do things.  
But I never thought she would go *that* far.  

PHELPS:  Does your sister have an active imagination?

QUINN:  Sure, she's a writer.

PHELPS:  Is it possible that she got caught up in one of her fantasies and 
let it distort her perception of reality?

QUINN:  Maybe.  Once when she was really sick, she dreamt that holidays were 
living at our house.  But she hasn't been sick lately.

PHELPS:  I'll confess that her brazenness *did* take me by surprise.   

(Quinn's face takes on a stricken expression.)

QUINN:  I can't believe... you mean she just came here and *ordered* you 
to transfer me?!

PHELPS:  Oh now, don't be too upset with Daria -- I'm sure she has a good 
explanation.  She's your sister, after all.

(Barely hearing him, Quinn turns to leave.  Although Phelps watches her go 
with genuine sympathy, his lips turn upward imperceptibly.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 3 (Jake's apartment, Friday)

(Outside shot of the apartment complex.)

JAKE: (V.O.)  You got *suspended*, kiddo?!

(Cut to shot of Daria and Quinn seated on Jake's couch, watching the large-screen 
television.  The screen is divided in two, with one half showing Fashion Vision 
and the other Sick Sad World.  Jake appears before them with a cooking spoon, 
which he waves angrily.)

JAKE:  Why didn't Helen *tell* me?!  It's just *like* her to keep all of the
important stuff from old Jakey because she thinks I can't handle it!  

DARIA:  There, there.  It'll be all right.

JAKE:  I *knew* it.  You're acting out without the presence of a father figure.  
I need to bond with you some more!

QUINN:  Dad, could you move?  You're blocking my side of the T.V.

JAKE:  Oh.

(He steps away quickly, his expression still worried.)

DARIA:  Relax Dad.  She probably didn't tell you because it's only been a couple 
of days and she's been trying to get it revoked.

JAKE:  This could go on your permanent record!  They send people to military 
school for stuff like this!

DARIA:  Where my acting out would be encouraged as long as none of my targets
could sue. 

JAKE:  That's not...  (He pauses and tilts his head upward to sniff.)  Wait a 
minute, what's that -- GAH!  My risotto!  

(He races toward the kitchen, leaving Daria and Quinn alone.  Quinn glances 
at Daria, her shock after talking with Phelps overshadowed by new shock at 
her sister's predicament.  Daria sighs heavily, betraying the frustration 
she has felt since Ms. Li suspended her.)

QUINN: (quiet)  When did you write for the underground paper?  I don't 
remember that.

DARIA:  Nor would you.  I started last spring and didn't tell anyone.

QUINN:  Not even Jane?

DARIA:  *Except* for Jane.

(Quinn turns away to reflect.  Daria grows annoyed at her awkward behavior.)

DARIA:  Would you stop treating me like an animal you've been assigned to 
study?  Yes, I wrote for a non-school-sanctioned newspaper and I've lived 
to tell about it.

QUINN:  But you were with those guys...

DARIA:  *What* guys?

QUINN:  Those freaks.  I knew about some of the students who got in trouble,
Daria.  Guys like that Danny (shudders) were in my classes, and he would 
always talk about "shooting up" or driving drunk across rich people's lawns 
at night.

DARIA: (grim)  I never witnessed such acts firsthand.

QUINN:  Why would you hang out with people like him instead of...

DARIA:  Jane?  (Quinn gazes at her a moment, then looks away.)  Let's just 
say that I was in a bad place emotionally, with the problems in our family 
really getting to me.  I met a group of pretty nice kids from less than 
stellar backgrounds, and we united in the common goal of putting out a 
quality newspaper.  It was a noble idea while it lasted, and I still think 
that a lot of the staffers have gotten a bad rap.

QUINN: (uneasy)  Oh.  Okay.

DARIA:  *What*?

QUINN:  That paper was weird.  I once looked at some of the articles and 
the tone seemed really nasty.

DARIA:  You actually read something an unpopular person wrote?  What, did 
you forget your glasses and think it was the latest issue of Waif?

QUINN:  I just didn't think you were like that.

DARIA:  Yes, well, you'd be surprised at the range and depth of my emotions.

(Quinn's expression darkens.  Just then Jake pops his head in.)

JAKE:  Say girls, who needs slaving over a hot stove?  What do you say we 
order a pizza?

DARIA:  Fine.

QUINN:  Whatever.

JAKE:  Great!

(He disappears inside the kitchen to make the call.)  

DARIA:  You won't tell anyone what happened, will you?  I don't want to deal 
with any annoying questions.  *Have* you told anyone?

QUINN:  Like I would do that.  I'm embarrassed enough just knowing it myself.

DARIA:  Aw *thanks*.  You should coordinate with Jane, then, to come up with 
an excuse for my absence.  One that *doesn't* have me stranded in the middle 
of the ocean with just my copy of _The Old Man and the Sea_.

(Quinn nods, looks as if she wants to say something more, then falls silent.  
She and Daria watch their shows until Jake reappears and shuts off the 
television.  He sits down in a chair beside them.)

JAKE:  Okay girls, pizza's gonna be here in thirty minutes, so what do you 
say we pass the time with a little Dad-and-daughter bonding?  No need to 
bring up the S-word -- we can talk about sports.  The, um, other S-word.

(His daughters give him a look.)

JAKE:  Okay, no sports.  How about music!  ("cool" voice.)  So... what's hip 
with the scene?

(Daria and Quinn exchange looks.  Jake reaches under the coffee table and 
produces a board game.)

JAKE:  Scrabble for your thoughts?  

DARIA:  Um, Dad?  

JAKE:  Yeah, kiddo?!

DARIA:  We're very flattered by all the attention you give us... 

QUINN:  ...but it's kind of hard to feel like we're at home with you hovering 
around all the time.

DARIA:  Like having a helper monkey that's suffered a compound fracture to 
the skull.

JAKE:  It's just that I have such a short time with you girls.  I want you to 
get the most out of it, so you don't resent me the way I resent my father. 

DARIA:  I'm sure that won't --

JAKE:  God knows *my* father couldn't even bother to spend five lousy minutes
caring about what *I* wanted.  No shooting the breeze with little Jakey.

QUINN:  Dad, that's --

JAKE:  "Real men don't talk about their problems, son."  Real men don't *have* 
problems, he meant!  You shove them *way* down where no one can see them, until
they fester and boil, only to *explode* when you least expect it, wreaking 
untold havoc on your life and loved ones FOREVER!

QUINN:  Dad!  Forget your dad.  He's not here.    

DARIA:  While the minutes you have to spend with *us* are ticking away. 

JAKE:  Oh!  Of course.  (He sobers up.)  I just meant, if only I had you for more
than one night.

DARIA:  How many nights were you thinking?

JAKE:  Two... three, maybe?

QUINN:  If I have to stay here more often, I want my own bed.  Sharing one with
your sister is *creepy* when you're our age, Dad.  We're not little kids.

DARIA:  For Dad, it would be creepy at any age.  

QUINN:  And there's no *privacy* here.  Nothing feels like it's mine.

JAKE:  But honey... we could fix that.

DARIA:  What about your teaching?

JAKE:  Oh, that's almost over.

QUINN:  What about *her*?

(Daria winces a little, then looks at Jake, who tries his best to stay cool.)

JAKE:  Well, of course we'd have to, um, discuss how she'll fit in.  But once 
you meet her, I think you two will love Sarah.  She's a real neat woman.
 
DARIA:  So she *does* have a name.
 
QUINN:  She's not spending the night here, is she??
 
JAKE:  Of *course* not, not while you're here.
 
DARIA:  But she *does*... spend the night.
 
(Jake goes ashen, realizing what he's given away.)
 
JAKE:  Some... times.
 
(His daughters fall silent, their faces growing pale and angry.  After a few 
moments, Quinn stands up.)
 
QUINN:  I'm going for a walk.
 
JAKE:  Honey, the food will be here soon.
 
QUINN:  I'm not hungry.
 
(She strides over to the door.)
 
JAKE:  Just don't... (The door closes hard behind her.) ... go too far.
 
(Morose, he looks at Daria, who averts her gaze until, slowly, she lifts her 
head to look him in the eye.)
 
DARIA: (quiet)  Are you and Mom getting a divorce? 

(Jake's shoulders sag.)

JAKE:  I don't know.  We haven't talked about it since... (winces) ...you know.

DARIA:  Does it feel like you're going to?

JAKE:  Sometimes it does.  Other times, no.

(Daria exhales softly, with frustration.)

DARIA:  When will you be introducing us to your mystery woman?

JAKE:  I wanted to wait until we were all a little more settled, so you and 
Quinn wouldn't blame her for anything that's happened.

DARIA:  Then I guess we'll never meet her.

(cut to: )

SCENE 4 (Daria's room, the next day)

(Jane enters with a list of assignments in hand, and finds Daria on her knees 
on the floor, digging under her bed.)

JANE:  What kind of twisted juvie cleans out her room during her time off?  
(lays the list on Daria's desk, gazes about.)  Or are you competing in the 
World Packrat Extreme Challenge?

(Across the floor, on Daria's bed, her bedside table, and her desk, sit large
piles of books and notebooks, as well as odds and ends like bones, wrinkled 
clothing, and scribbles on lined paper.)

DARIA:  I'm looking for the secret vortex beneath my bed, which would explain 
how I hid so much crap without the floor boards giving way. 

JANE:  "Crap"?  These are some of your classics.  (She picks up one notebook 
from the top of the pile and flips through.)  Melody Powers goes back in time 
and tries to stop Hitler from being conceived.  Heh, love how she slipped 
estrogen into the guy's coffee...

DARIA: (cheeks reddening)  You *know* it's crap when reciting the plot points 
just makes it sound stupider.  Anyway, I'm not running inventory of past work.  
I'm looking for one of my journals.

JANE:  I could help you there.  What does it look like?

DARIA:  That's the problem.  My journals don't have a distinct look.  I just
write on what's around and hope the historians will piece it together.

JANE:  Why do you need it?

DARIA:  My mom thought that if I had evidence, we could strengthen our case
against the suspension.  

JANE:  What happened to confronting that Damien guy?  

DARIA:  Once he regained consciousness, to his credit, he called the school right
away to say I was innocent.  Yet somehow Ms. Li had trouble accepting the word
of an irresponsible egomaniac who looked the other way as his staffers trashed
her school.  

JANE:  Is *he* gonna suffer any punishment?

DARIA:  Who knows?  But his staffers are gone and his underground media empire 
destroyed.  For someone like Damien, that's worse than if he were put in jail.

JANE:  And you're stuck looking for credibility amongst the dust balls.

DARIA:  I remembered that I'd written down almost everything about the underground
in a journal, and have thus spent the better part of the afternoon looking for it. 

JANE:  Journal with vindicating evidence?  Got it.  

(She starts sifting through the pile of books, giving each a closer inspection.)

DARIA:  So how are things on the school side of life?

JANE:  Absolutely riveting.  Yesterday Kevin entranced the entire lunchroom with 
his ability to eat corn dogs at lightening speed, while Brittany shocked and 
amazed with her talent for being adoring and vacant at the same time.

DARIA:  Let's see them do that while walking over hot coals. 

JANE:  Some students have been asking about you.  I told them you were taking a 
college tour with your parents.  

DARIA:  That excuse sounds a little dull for Jane Lane.

JANE:  Where they would conduct experiments on your brain.  (Daria gives her 
a look.)  Kidding!  

DARIA:  I never thought I would miss school.  Some day, I'm sure I will. 

JANE:  The teachers have been counting the minutes until you return.  Imagine 
them having to prop up an entire class with their skill.

DARIA:  I hope the Lawndale Suicide Hotline hasn't overloaded.

JANE:  Mr. DeMartino even asked about you.

(Daria gets a sour look.)

DARIA:  Great.

JANE:  Hey, at least it wasn't you-know-who.  Have you thought about whether
he's...?

DARIA: (sighing)  Yes, my mom and I discussed whether Phelps blew my cover.  And 
while it's possible, given his recent threats, the evidence is far from
conclusive.  Ms. Li was conducting her witch hunt long before I even spoke to
Phelps.  For now, all I can do is tuck my suspicions away in an ever-growing file.

JANE:  Other than that, how are things on the home front?

DARIA:  Not too bad.  Mom stopped threatening to bring me to her office to file 
depositions once she realized I've spent my time off actually *doing* school 
work.  And with the house to myself, let's just say that my Tom Cruise
impression has gotten a lot sharper.

JANE:  Should I be worried?

DARIA:  I know my penalty is a week at most, but this whole thing sucks.  
I got suspended.  It'll be on my record, and I wasn't even guilty. 

JANE:  Yeah, at least if you *had* been guilty, you could take some twisted
pleasure in the whole thing.

DARIA:  It's almost enough to make me wish I were.

JANE:  Hey, be glad you're not headed for the gulag like you thought.  No
shoveling coal in Phys Ed class.

DARIA:  True.  (Something occurs to her.)  Did Andrea ask where I was?

JANE:  No.  Come to think of it... I haven't seen her. 

(She and Daria exchange troubled looks.)

DARIA:  So, anything new outside of school?         

JANE:  Speaking of college tours, I'll soon be taking one with Tom and 
his mother. 

DARIA: (brightening)  You *are* going to college?

JANE:  Not so fast, Morgendorffer, I haven't made up my mind yet.  And even 
if I had, I sure as hell wouldn't be going Bromwell, Princeton, or any of 
those snob schools.

DARIA:  Then why the trip?

JANE:  To support Tom, who would otherwise be stuck discussing charity 
fundraisers every minute he and his mother were alone.  Plus, Kay Sloane 
hates me.

DARIA:  And trapping yourself in a car with her is *good* because...?

JANE:  Half the reason she suggested this trip is because she thought I'd 
refuse, and then she could spend quality car time convincing Tom that 
I was all wrong for him. (smiles wickedly.)  Instead, I get to watch her 
strain to hide her disgust under a thin veil of upper-crust civility.  

DARIA:  Sounds like quite a trip.

JANE:  Care to wager on who will return with their sanity intact?

DARIA:  Too unpredictable.  (She looks at one of her books reflectively.)  
I hope you and Tom manage to stay on good terms until then, because I may 
need him.  Possibly this week.

JANE:  For what?

DARIA:  I've been trying to get back in touch with that Fielding Prep 
administrator.  The e-mail I sent him bounced back and he hasn't responded 
to my phone messages.  

JANE:  That doesn't sound promising.

DARIA:  Still, he's the only one to give me clues that Phelps is up to
something bad.  I need to press him to be specific -- *did* Phelps really 
steal a bunch of money and *could* he be doing it at Lawndale?  Quinn won't 
believe me otherwise.

JANE:  So what do you need Tom for? 

DARIA:  I may have to visit the guy in person, and I'll need a student to 
get me past the security gate.

JANE:  I'm sure Tom would be glad to help.  

DARIA:  If that jerk Phelps thought that threatening me would curb my desire 
to learn the truth, he should have known better.

JANE:  I hope some day Quinn appreciates what you're doing.

(cut to: )

SCENE 5 (Fielding Preparatory Academy, Tuesday)

(Daria walks with Tom past a wide green lawn, toward an impressive series of
Gothic-looking buildings.  Tom wears Fielding's uniform of a dark suit coat 
and tie, which Daria smirks at with quiet amusement.)

DARIA:  I almost didn't recognize you in your Prince of Wales get-up.

TOM:  This coat is great for hiding murder weapons.

(They enter one of the buildings, and Daria finds herself surrounded by 
students in dark suits on their way to various classes.  She suddenly feels 
self-conscious, and focuses her eyes on the high ceiling and stained glass 
windows.)

DARIA:  Will Quasimodo be ringing the dinner bell?

TOM:  It's his week off.  Come on -- the administrators' offices are 
down this hallway. 

(Daria follows Tom past a row of doors, each with a gold plaque bearing 
the administrator's name beside it.  At last, they come upon a partially 
open door with the plaque "Marshall Winsett IV, Esq."  Tom starts to enter, 
but Daria pulls him back.)

DARIA:  Wait, Tom.   

TOM:  You'll need a witness.

DARIA:  I don't want to get you into trouble.  You can listen from out here.

TOM: (doubtful)  Okay.

(Daria enters a spacious office, where the walls are lined with bookcases.  At 
the far end are a large mahogany desk and two ornate chairs.  Marshall Winsett
sits behind the desk in a leather swivel chair, partially turned away, his
attention on a phone call.  Daria walks toward his desk just as he's about to 
end it.)

MARSHALL: (into the phone)  Yes, I agree, those *are* the areas in greatest 
need of funding... (Pause)  I'll definitely present it to the board... (He turns, 
sees Daria, and his eyes widen.)  Yes... you, too.  Thank you for calling.  
Good day.

(He lays down the phone gently, his eyes locked with Daria's.  As when they 
met the first time, neither speaks for a moment.)

DARIA:  Mr. Winsett?  You remember me, don't you?

MARSHALL:  Yes, Daria, I remember you.

DARIA:  Um, I've been trying to get a hold of you.  I didn't want to bother you 
in person, but I couldn't reach you any other way.

MARSHALL:  We've had a few bugs in our system lately.  The repairmen are still
trying to get it in working order.

(He says this in a pleasant, detached manner.  Daria feels as though his manner
is different, but can't quite figure out how.)

DARIA:  That's all right.  I just wanted to ask... um, about the conversation 
we had a couple of weeks ago about Mr. Phelps.  

MARSHALL:  About his time at Fielding, yes.

DARIA: (blushes)  And certain rumors that were going around school.

MARSHALL:  Daria, there are so many rumors about teachers flying around, it's
difficult to keep track of them all.

DARIA:  These rumors involved the possible siphoning of money, an activity that 
could still be going on at his current school.

MARSHALL:  I don't recall what you're talking about.

(A beat, as Daria frowns with confusion.  She glances behind her, wondering if 
Marshall is concerned about being overheard.)

DARIA:  If you'd like a refresher, we could meet again at a cafe.

MARSHALL:  That would be very nice, but I'm afraid my schedule is booked up for 
the next several weeks.      

(Daria's eyes narrow a little as she probes his demeanor.)

DARIA:  You don't have *any* spare time?

MARSHALL:  Unfortunately, no.  Now I'm sorry, Daria, but I'm going to have to 
ask you to leave so I can prepare for a meeting this afternoon.  

DARIA:  Mr. Winsett, I told you before, one of my family members might be caught
up in Mr. Phelps's scheme.  She could be in danger and I need to know the truth.

(She gazes at Marshall with fierce eyes, and for a moment he seems to waiver.  
Then he regains his professional detachment.)

MARSHALL:  I wish you good luck in finding your answers.

DARIA:  But --

MARSHALL:  Good day.

(Daria presses her lips together, her cheeks reddening with frustration.  When
it's clear that Marshall won't budge, she turns toward the door.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 6 (Morgendorffer house, that evening)

(Helen has just gotten home and is sorting through the daily mail on the 
kitchen table.  Her expression is marred by a scowl.)

HELEN:  *Honest* to God, don't First Amendment rights mean *anything* these 
days?!  After the debacle with the Zero Tolerance policy, one would *think* 
the school would be a little more--!

(She sees Daria enter the kitchen and immediately tones down her manner.)

DARIA:  No success, huh?

HELEN:  I'm afraid not.  Ever since the outbreak of school shootings, the laws
and the courts have given schools *so* much authority, they can do just about
whatever they want.  And good students like yourself pay the price.  

(Daria cocks a weary eyelid and opens the refrigerator.)

HELEN:  Did you find your journal?

DARIA:  Yes.

HELEN:  You did??  Why didn't you tell me?  

DARIA:  Because it cuts off.  I'd forgotten about how much I wrote about my 
time on the underground.  The journal I found describes how I joined, but not 
how I left.  I can't find the journal that tells the rest.  

HELEN:  I'm sorry, sweetie.  At least your suspension lasts one more day -- 
then everything will go back to normal.

(Daria finds a soda and opens it, unsure if this is true.  She is about to leave, 
when Helen waves her back.)

HELEN:  Daria, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about.  (She opens 
her briefcase on the table and pulls out several sheets of paper.)  Are these 
the problem sets you found on Quinn's desk?

(Daria comes over and her eyes widen.  The rows of numbers are all there,
beneath which is Quinn's -- what can only be described as -- bouncy writing.)

DARIA:  Yes, that's them.

HELEN:  And this is your sister's writing, correct?

DARIA:  Yes.

HELEN:  After Mr. Phelps faxed these over last week, I asked a junior associate 
to investigate them, since his younger brother is an econ major in college.  

DARIA:  And??

HELEN:  He told me... they're statistics.  The type normally found in a college-
level class. 

(Daria's face falls.)

DARIA:  That's all?

HELEN:  He said he was very impressed that Quinn was doing such challenging 
work at her age.  

DARIA:  And there was nothing about them that seemed... off the mark?

HELEN:  Not that either of us could see.  He even showed me a textbook section 
that was similar.  (She notes Daria's expression.)  I want to get a confirmation
from Quinn, but if this is true...

DARIA:  It means my suspicions of Phelps are unfounded.

HELEN:  I wouldn't go that far.  However, I will suggest that for now, you let
them rest.  There's no use fretting when, as far as we know, Quinn's not doing
anything illegal and Mr. Phelps has promised to not give her extra work.  Let's
just see what else we learn, all right?         

(Daria nods, her expression gloomy.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 7 (Daria's room, a short time later)

(Daria sits on the bed, talking to Jane on the phone, her journal lying in
 her lap.)

JANE: (O.S.)  Maybe that Winsett guy was worried that talking would set off 
fireworks that would hurt his precious school.

DARIA:  I hope so, because I didn't just dream it.  It happened.  I *know* 
Marshall Winsett told me about Phelps stealing.  I know it was more than just 
a rumor.

JANE: (O.S.)  And even if he's not stealing, he might be cheating.

DARIA:  Precisely.  Why would Quinn even tell me about it unless some part of her
thought it was wrong? (frowns)  Of course, since then she's fiercely denied it.

(She flips open her journal and sees one of her old entries: "By imagining the 
guy really *is* using Quinn for his own sordid purposes, I create a ready
adversary for myself against whom I can exercise control that I haven't been 
able to find at home or elsewhere.")

(Daria reads this, then exhales quietly and gazes at the ceiling.)


END OF ACT TWO


ACT THREE


SCENE 1 (Lane residence, Wednesday late afternoon)

(Jane opens the door for Daria, looking troubled.) 

DARIA:  All right, what's so urgent that you had to tear me away from my 
final free evening of counting cracks in the walls?

JANE:  Check out the latest issue of the Lowdown.

(She hands Daria a copy and shuts the door behind her.  Daria's eyes widen -- 
the banner headline reads "Underground Fraudsters Brought to Justice.")

JANE:  I thought you might want to do your screaming now, rather than wait
until you're back amongst our peers.  I'll go tape down the windows.

(Daria's face tightens, and for several moments, she doesn't speak as she 
forces herself to read every line of the article.  Once finished, she tosses 
the paper to the ground.)

DARIA:  This is *crap*.  The only things they got right were that there was 
an underground newspaper and its staffers got punished.  They didn't even 
get the *reasons* we got punished right.  No one took acid during meetings, 
or stole cars, or robbed people so they'd have an interesting story.  

JANE:  Since when have silly things like accuracy mattered to the Lowdown?

DARIA:  Ms. Li punishes the underground staffers but lets this tripe pass?  All
because the Lowdown gives the school great P.R. with its feel-good articles?

JANE:  At least no one mentioned any names.  Imagine how much worse it would 
be if people knew you were on staff.

(cut to: )

SCENE 2 (Lawndale High, Thursday)

(Daria and Jane walk to O'Neill's class.  Here and there, students glance in 
Daria's direction, then quickly look away.)

DARIA:  Good thing no one knows.

JANE:  Maybe they're just thrilled to see an unpopular person back in her 
natural habitat.  You worry too much.

(They enter the classroom.  The few students present and O'Neill glance at 
Daria, then look away.)

DARIA:  Come again?

(She and Jane take their seats.  Daria slouches self-consciously.)

JANE:  Hey look, everyone.  Daria's back!  Yay!

(Daria glares at Jane, but her outburst seems to break the ice.  O'Neill 
turns away from the blackboard timidly.)

O'NEILL:  It's... wonderful to see you again, Daria.

(Kevin and Brittany edge closer.)

BRITTANY:  Wow, so you were out *there*, were you?

DARIA:  Yes, Brittany, there is a world outside of school.  It's full of 
outlet stores... and malls.

BRITTANY:  That's really *great*, Daria!  Isn't it *great*, Kevin?

KEVIN:  Um, yeah.  Whatever you said, babe.

(They shy back into their seats, as Daria and Jane look at each other.)

JANE:  Okay... make that you worry just enough.

(Jodie enters the classroom, heads over to Daria and Jane.)

JODIE:  Hey Daria, I'm glad to see you back.

DARIA:  Well, that would make one person.

JODIE: (lowers her voice)  You read the article?

DARIA:  It seems quite a few of us did.  I'd just like to know how they 
linked it to me.

JODIE:  Your suspension *did* coincide with the suspensions of a lot of 
the staffers.

DARIA:  How did you know I was suspended?

JODIE:  I didn't at first, but I figured it out.  I always sort of knew that 
you wrote for the underground paper -- the way you would react when someone 
talked about what was written.

DARIA:  Okay, but you're at the top of the food chain.  How did the average 
Lawndale High invertebrate figure it out?

JANE:  You remember how info spread about your parents' separation.  All it 
takes is for one person who knows to --

DARIA:  *Quinn*.

JANE:  Even so, they don't have proof.  Just play it cool, and hopefully by 
next week, it'll be forgotten.

JODIE:  She's right -- just ignore them.  I'll use my influence as school 
president to get the Lowdown to print a correction. 

KEVIN:  Hey Daria?  Is it true what that article said about you hijacking a 
car full of old chicks at gunpoint?

BRITTANY:  *Kevin*!

KEVIN:  Was that the thing I wasn't supposed to ask her, babe?

DARIA:  Kevin, you've learned to read.  I'm so proud.

KEVIN:  Cool, huh?

O'NEILL:  Daria, *I* for one don't believe you would do anything unlawful.
(uneasy expression.)  But if you ever have any more *really* bad feelings, I 
just want you to know that I'm here to listen.

DARIA:  Look, the Lowdown editors never print anything accurate except by 
accident.  The only reason they even printed the article was to get revenge
on their rivals.  It's nothing but lies!

(Her voice rises almost to a shout, causing everyone in the classroom to 
wince, even Jane.)

O'NEILL:  Of *course* it is.  

(His forced reassurance just increases Daria's concern.  She slumps down 
further in her seat.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 2 (Phelps's classroom, Monday)

(Quinn sits in much the same manner, her elbows on the desktop.)

QUINN:  I can't *believe* people are still talking about this!

(She looks accusingly at the Three J's and several other classmates.)

QUINN:  That underground paper story was *so* yesterday.  Get over it!

JOEY: (timid)  But Quinn, is it true that that girl at your house spent 
a weekend in jail?

QUINN:  No, you *creep*! 

JOEY: (cowers)  I'm sorry!  I'm sorry!

JEFFY:  *I* would never say your relative went to jail.

JAMIE:  Yeah, I wouldn't even say she was in a drug rehab center.  (He 
catches Quinn's glare.)  *What*?

QUINN:  She didn't *do* those things!  Daria would *never* do those things!
(crestfallen)  She isn't like that.  

(The bell rings, and all students but Quinn stand to leave.  The Three J's 
attempt to console her, but her rigid posture discourages it.  They leave.)

PHELPS: (from his desk)  Ms. Morgendorffer, would you come here for a moment?

(Slowly Quinn stands and walks over.)

PHELPS:  Were those lads bothering you?

QUINN:  Not really.  I'm just so angry -- everyone thinks Daria did what that
article said.  It's all over school.

PHELPS:  Do you think she's guilty?

QUINN:  No!  Mr. Phelps, Daria isn't like that.  She's a little weird, but 
she's not a criminal!

PHELPS:  It's certainly doubtful that she did everything mentioned.

QUINN: (eyes narrow)  You don't know Daria like I do.  The only buzz she gets 
is from reading some boring old book.   

PHELPS:  Yet she has kept parts of her life from you.  She still hasn't 
mentioned that she tried to take you out of my class, has she? 

QUINN:  So what?!

PHELPS:  Just as she never told you that she wrote for the underground 
newspaper until after the fact.

QUINN:  What are you trying to tell me, Mr. Phelps?

(Her teacher removes his glasses momentarily to rub his eyes.)

PHELPS:  I'm sorry to sound so negative, Quinn.  I'm just trying to prepare 
you for any unpleasant surprises.

QUINN:  What "unpleasant surprises"?

PHELPS:  Anything that could cause you pain.  I know that in spite of your
differences, you hold your sister in very high regard.  However, she's
still human, and therefore capable of great errors in judgment.     

QUINN:  Not Daria.

PHELPS:  Didn't you think the same thing about your parents?

(Quinn's face puckers, remembering Jake's revelation.)

PHELPS:  You never thought they would separate and now your father is seeing 
someone else. 

(Quinn's eyes fill with tears.)

QUINN:  Why did you have to say that?

PHELPS:  My dear, I'm just trying to level with you.  It's pained me to watch 
you get hurt time and again by your parents' decisions, and I don't want you to 
be blind-sided again. 

QUINN:  Just stop, okay?  Daria's different.  She's *not* like them.

MS. LI: (V.O.)  Would *Daria* Morgendorffer report to my office immediately?

(Quinn cringes at the sound of the intercom and lays her face in her hands.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 4 (Ms. Li's office)

(Daria sits across from Ms. Li's desk.)

MS. LI:  I *assume* you've read the article in the Lowdown.

DARIA: (eyes narrow)  Funny how you were so quick to punish the underground
staffers for threatening the school's reputation, yet have done nothing about 
an article whose phony statements have made our lives a living hell.

MS. LI:  Now *you* know what it's like to be on the otherrr side.

DARIA:  Then I expect you'll be marching the Lowdown editors in for their 
sentencing.

MS. LI:  Ms. Morgendorffer, I didn't call you in to talk about meaningless
notions like consistency and fair play.

DARIA:  Of course not.

MS. LI:  A member of our *business* community has read the article and is 
verrrrry upset.

DARIA:  At least someone recognized a lynching.

MS. LI:  Upset with *you*.

DARIA:  Because?

MS. LI:  The proprietor of *Lowman's* Sporting Goods has told me that 
he is the victim of *Erasmus's* liiibelous comments.

DARIA:  If by "libelous," he means harsh and true, he's probably right.
  
MS. LI:  So you *are* familiar with Lowman's.

DARIA:  I wrote a lot of articles about Lawndale businesses.  I never 
mentioned anything but what I saw.  (recalls)  The only thing I misstated
about Lowman's was that they still used sweatshop labor, but I corrected 
it in the next issue.

MS. LI:  Mr. Estrada mentioned no such correction.

DARIA:  Then he didn't see it.  I can show you.

(Ms. Li hands Daria a stack of underground newspapers, and Daria combs 
through them to the issue containing her Lowman's article.  She then lays 
it aside and looks through the following issue.  Her brow furrows.  She 
looks through it again, then the next issue, then the next one, while 
Ms. Li grows more and more impatient.)

DARIA:  It has to be...  

MS. LI:  Sometime *today*, Ms. Morgendorffer.

(Finally Daria lays down the papers.)

DARIA: (stunned)  He didn't do it.  Damien never printed the correction.

MS. LI:  So you *admit* that you printed a false, damaging statement about
a reputable business?

(Daria has no words.  A look of anger, mixed with dread, grows on her face.) 

MS. LI:  You *do* realize that Lowman's is the discount supplier of equipment 
for Llllllawndale High's glorious athletic department?

(Daria nods.)

MS. LI: (eyes narrow)  Well not anymore.  Mr. Estrada is so upset that a 
student here cost him money and prestige, he has *nullified* our contract.  
The football players now have to pay full price for their supplies along with 
the academics!

DARIA: (quiet)  Look, I'm a careful writer.  I *don't* make up lies about people 
-- I just made a mistake.  I'll tell Mr. Estrada I'm sorry, and I'll even write 
a letter to the Lawndale Sun-Herald explaining how I was wrong.

MS. LI:  I'm afraid it's far too late for that.

(She whisks the papers away and stands up angrily.)

MS. LI:  After your suspension, I was going to let your association with 
those underground hooligans slide.  "Erasmus" wasn't listed on any of the 
harmful articles, and your teachers were practically chewing off their 
arms with desperation to get you back.  But *this* time, Darierrr, you've 
threatened our sports teams.  *This* time... it's personal.

(cut to: )

SCENE 5 (Lawndale High, late afternoon)

(Daria is on her hands and knees beneath a desk, scraping off gum and surplus 
gunk into a bucket, trying to hold in her revulsion.  Jane helps out alongside 
her, soaping down the top of a different desk.)

JANE:  She sure doesn't waste time, does she?  How many afternoons do you 
have to do this again?

DARIA:  Just until the arthritis makes it too difficult to kneel down.

(She scoots away from the desk and moves on to the one in front of it.)

DARIA:  What concerns me more is the psychological exam she wants me to take.  
That's one test that won't go over well with college admissions boards.

JANE:  You threaten her precious sports teams, so that means you're crazy??  
(She tosses down her sponge angrily.)  That is so messed up -- you're no 
crazier than I was when Sandi Griffin smeared me in the presidential race.

(She stands and walks over to the desk in front of her so she's facing Daria.)

JANE:  Okay, you screwed up your article.  It could happen to anybody.  You
*still* didn't deserve that suspension, and you didn't deserve all that hateful 
stuff they wrote about you and the other staffers.  You've got to fight this,
Daria.  Forget waiting for it to blow over, 'cause it obviously won't.

DARIA:  Right.  (She sits up stiffly.)  Because I've been an unqualified 
success in the "standing up" department.  Each time I've felt sure of 
something, I've been proven wrong. 

JANE:  Come on, don't let Ms. Li shake your confidence.  The Daria *I* know 
would think of a creative and mildly anarchic solution to her problem.

DARIA: (fiercely)  The Daria *you* know wouldn't forget to check up on her 
work.  The Daria *you* know wouldn't have been stupid enough to take Damien at 
his word.  The Daria *you* know wouldn't be plotting to bury him alive in a
shallow grave as we speak. (Bt)  On second thought, yes she would.

JANE:  Need to borrow my pick-axe?    

(Her quip fails to bring a smirk to Daria's face.)

JANE:  If there's any consolation, it looks as though people *did* read your 
writing for the underground.  And took it seriously. 

DARIA:  Oh joy. (Bt)  The question is, how did the owner of Lowman's know that
*I* was Erasmus?  The Lowdown article never said, and I doubt Ms. Li would tell
him.

JANE:  Maybe he didn't have to.  He could have just complained and she took
it from there.

(Daria cocks an eyelid and keeps scraping.)

JANE:  So when will they officially unchain you?

DARIA:  After a teacher comes by to inspect.

(She finishes her desk and sits up in the chair, just as Mr. Phelps sweeps 
into the room.  When Daria sees him, her face darkens.)

DARIA:  Of course.

PHELPS:  Good afternoon, Ms. Morgendorffer.  (He glances at Jane's sponge, cocks 
a brow with disapproval.)  Since when is detention a shared experience, Ms. Lane?

JANE:  You thought I was cleaning?  (laughs)  I was just keeping the sponge 
company until Daria finished with the undersides.  

PHELPS:  You may go home now, Ms. Lane.  Ms. Morgendorffer, since you don't appear 
to be too worn out from cleaning the desks, you may clean the blackboards as well.

(Daria regards him with limp anger.  Jane stands up slowly.)

JANE:  I'd rather stay until my friend is finished.  I can wait in the back.

PHELPS:  The longer you wait, the more blackboards she'll have to clean.

(Jane frowns at him.  After a moment's pause, she sends Daria a sympathetic look 
and walks quietly out the door.  Phelps closes it behind her.)

DARIA:  How did *you* get detention duty?

PHELPS:  I'm usually here late, and since I no longer tutor your sister, I had 
to find some use for all that free time.

(At the mention of Quinn, Daria feels her body tense.) 

DARIA:  Shall I wash with the water filled with dirt, or the water filled with
spit gobs?

(Phelps reaches into his coat and pulls out a small packet of moist towelettes.
Daria cannot suppress an "Are you kidding me?" look, but quickly sees that 
Phelps isn't joking.  She takes the packet and walks up to the board.)

PHELPS:  There's plenty more where that came from.

(Daria's eyes narrow and she positions herself so that she faces Phelps as she
cleans.  Remembering Helen's reveal, she feels slightly less hostile toward him, 
but memories of his threats keep her on edge.  Phelps wipes a desktop surface 
with his finger, then frowns at what it picks up.)

PHELPS:  If I didn't know better, I would swear you've never had detention before.

DARIA:  Imagine that.

PHELPS:  What did an honors student like yourself do to merit punishment?

DARIA:  I rewired the school security system so that an alarm would go off
whenever a teacher said "be quiet."  It's already sent a dozen library 
patrons to the Cedars of Lawndale Mental Ward. 

PHELPS:  That's just the sort of response I would expect from you... Erasmus.

(Daria pauses for a beat, then keeps cleaning.)

DARIA:  Ms. Li told you.

PHELPS:  Yes, but I already knew.  I'm surprised more people never made the 
connection.

(Daria stares at him.)

PHELPS:  Don't look so shocked.  I can do more than teach maths, you know.
I've read every issue of the student newspapers since I arrived.  Teenage 
writing has always intrigued me -- the thoughts that fill your minds.  
Although most of it is so dreadful, I keep it around just for a good laugh.

(Daria turns to face the board, biting back a smirk.)

PHELPS:  Some students, though, gave the craft the respect it deserved.  You 
were one of them.  Your fluff pieces for the Lowdown were among the few that
didn't make me gag, because you seemed to know they were fluff, and thus were
always winking at your audience.

DARIA:  I just had a lash in my eye.

PHELPS:  The paper was less enjoyable after you left.  Then one day, Erasmus's 
articles began appearing in the underground paper.  I saw the same sharp phrases 
and pointed observations and, somehow, I knew they came from you.  

(Daria's cheeks flush, as she is unsure of whether to be flattered or wary.  
She quickly runs through her towelette package and receives another one.)

PHELPS:  I always felt that more people should read you.  Dozens throughout 
the community were affected by what you wrote, yet they didn't know your paper
existed.  Mr. Estrada certainly didn't.

(Daria pauses.)

PHELPS:  When the Sun-Herald quoted him in a business article two weeks ago, he
said that he was "mystified" by the drop in Lowman's sales.  One could claim 
that it was due to poor management... but why blame yourself when you could 
blame a young writer recently mentioned in the school paper?  It *does* seem
rather strange that Lowman's sales didn't go into steady decline until after 
your article appeared. 

(Daria lowers her arm slowly, her cheeks flaming.)

PHELPS:  You were undeniably harsh, especially in the paragraph about sweatshops.
I'm sure it tweaked the consciences of a few yuppie parents.  When someone pointed
him to the article, Mr. Estrada must have felt very relieved to discover the lie.
He could pin his misfortunes on that, rather than on all of the statements that
were true.  Or so I would imagine. 

DARIA:  And did he happen to "discover" the lie all on his own?

PHELPS:  He might have had help from someone with a sharper eye.

DARIA: (low, seething)  You told him about the article.

PHELPS:  The truth came out.

DARIA:  So why bother to let me know?

PHELPS:  Because otherwise you might think you were the victim of random events.  

(He regards Daria with a calm expression as she stands rigidly.)

PHELPS:  You care about the truth, don't you?  Is your truth less worth knowing
than someone else's? 

DARIA:  I didn't mean to lie.  I made a mistake.

PHELPS:  Spoken like someone with a bright future in politics.

DARIA:  Except that I plan to correct it.  (veers to face him.)  If this was your
way of keeping me from going to the authorities, you don't have to worry.  My
suspicions of you were unfounded.  And since they were unfounded, I no longer 
care what you do, past or present.

PHELPS:  How noble of you -- but it's too late for backpedaling, Ms.
Morgendorffer.  You can't just poke around in people's lives, gleefully hold 
up damaging evidence, and expect to not pay a price.  I'm afraid you're about 
to find out what it's like to *be* one of the people you've exposed.    

DARIA: (flat)  So as payback, you get to watch my crucifixion.  I questioned
the mighty Mr. Phelps, and you have to grind me to a powder, so I'll never even
think to do it again.

PHELPS: (dark)  If you knew what I were *really* capable of, you wouldn't take 
such a flippant tone.    

DARIA:  What *are* you capable of?

PHELPS:  Press hard enough and you'll find out.

(Daria's lips curl with disgust.)

DARIA:  What the hell does Quinn see in you?

PHELPS:  Simple -- she knows that I'm on her side, which is more than she could
say for you.  

DARIA:  Not "on her side"?  I wouldn't even be here right now if not for her.

PHELPS:  You say that, but what do your suspicions say about your ability to 
trust her?  You couldn't even leave her alone with her opinions.

DARIA:  At least I *let* her have her own opinions.  Do *you* let her think
anything without prior approval? 

PHELPS:  She knows that *I* trust her -- it's with you that she doesn't feel
secure.  She seeks your approval and never receives it, asks to be treated like 
an equal and gets denied.  When that happens, she comes to me.  She respects my
judgment as much as she does yours, only I'm not afraid to tell her that she's
worth something, that she's special.

DARIA:  Which puts you in the company of every other male at Lawndale.
 
PHELPS:  Maybe some part of her realizes that even if you *do* care about her, 
you're a person of self-preservation first and foremost.   At the most critical
times, you'll choose your well-being over hers.   

DARIA:  Is that why you said I reminded you of yourself?

(cut to: )

SCENE 6 (Morgendorffer residence, evening)

(Quinn stands at the kitchen counter, laying carrot sticks in a bowl, trying to 
be as inconspicuous as possible.  At the table, Helen sits across from Daria, 
whose general demeanor is somewhere between self-blame and rage.  Helen looks 
none too happy herself, having just hung up the phone.)

HELEN:  Mr. Estrada won't negotiate.  He's too caught up in his own martyrdom 
and refuses to see that a teenage girl couldn't *possibly* have done all of the
damage to his business that he described. 
 
DARIA:  So what happens now?
 
HELEN:  He... wait. 
 
(She groans and speed-dials the phone, then taps her finger impatiently until 
the line picks up.)
 
HELEN:  Jake, this is Helen.  You said you wanted to be included in more family
discussions?  Well, here's your chance. (glares)  And if certain *other* people
happen to be listening in, they'd better have the decency to leave now, since 
this is absolutely *none* of their business and any claim otherwise would just 
be an abuse of their non-existent role in this family! 
 
(She hits the button for speakerphone and lays the phone back on its base, which
has been moved to the center of the table.)
 
JAKE: (O.S.)  I-it's just me, Helen... and Monday Night Football.
 
HELEN:  Jake, turn *off* the T.V. and focus.  I've put you on speakerphone, 
so you should be able to hear us.
 
JAKE: (O.S.)  You sound like you're a million miles away.
 
(Helen groans and turns up the volume on the base.)
 
HELEN:  We have --

JAKE: (O.S.)  *OW*!

(Teeth clenched, Helen turns down the volume a notch.)

HELEN:  We have a situation with Daria.  It seems that several months ago, she
wrote an article criticizing one of the town's businesses, which included an 
inaccurate statement that the owner claims is libel.  He says that Daria has 
done untold damage to his reputation and that he intends to sue.
 
JAKE: (O.S.)  That really stinks, kiddo!  Why would you do something like that?!
(Pause)  Erm... where are you?

DARIA:  To your left.

JAKE: (O.S.)  *Oh*.

HELEN:  Jake, let's not fly off the handle -- I'm sure we can work this out.

DARIA: (subdued)  I'll go apologize to Mr. Estrada tomorrow.

HELEN:  That would be a good start.  If we could at least get him to reinstate 
your school's discount, your principal might agree to forgo your detention
and *God* knows whatever the hell else she has planned. 

DARIA:  If he sued us, would he win?  

HELEN:  Well, I seriously doubt he could prove that your one article was 
responsible for a steady decline in profits, given its low profile.

DARIA:  That's a relief.

HELEN:  *But*... (Her eyes narrow.)  ... he still has a case.  You *did* lie 
about his business, and if he can make a convincing argument that you caused
some of his losses, we might still have to pay him a dollar amount.

DARIA:  Great.

JAKE: (O.S.)  *Dammit*, you couldn't throw if your arm were a catapult!

HELEN:  Jake??  

JAKE: (O.S.)  Huh?

HELEN: (realizes)  You're watching football, aren't you?

JAKE: (O.S.)  Wha-- I... no!  That was just --

HELEN:  Dammit Jake, I told you to turn that T.V. *off*, not mute it!  

JAKE: (O.S.)  It's off now!  See?  *Off*!  And I *was* listening, Helen!  

HELEN:  Then you heard the part where I said we might have to pay money?

JAKE: (O.S.)  We... *hey*!

DARIA:  Boy, this really does feel like a typical family discussion.      

HELEN:  I wouldn't be so flippant if I were you, Daria.  How could you be 
so careless as to write an article criticizing someone's business without 
checking your work??

(Remembering Phelps's use of the word "flippant," Daria feels herself tense.) 

DARIA:  I *did* check my work.

HELEN:  Well obviously not well enough.  Daria, being a reporter isn't like
writing one of your essays -- you can't just say whatever you want!

DARIA:  How would *you* know what my essays are like?  When's the last time
you've read one??

HELEN:  I just meant that in the real world, what you say and *how* you say 
it matters a great deal.  You and your underground friends might have thought 
you were having fun, but putting out a real publication, even a small one, 
is serious business!

DARIA:  When I was on the paper, it *was* serious business.  

HELEN:  I know *you* wouldn't intentionally harm anyone, but the students 
you hung out with, the things they've done --

DARIA: (stiffens)  So you believe the Lowdown article, too.

HELEN:  I don't have to.  Article or no, it's clear that many of those kids 
had troubled backgrounds, which led *some* of them to write the articles 
that led to your suspensions.  I thought that *you* were completely innocent 
of these charges, but the error in your Lowman's article --

DARIA:  Showed that maybe, just maybe, I was sliding down a slippery slope 
greased by their depravity.

HELEN: (glares)  It makes you look bad, Daria.  It makes it easier for 
people to claim that you're a reckless writer with little regard for
others, who was deserving of her suspension and therefore of stricter
punishment.  

DARIA:  We'll just prove it isn't true.

HELEN:  We'll *try*, Daria.  That doesn't mean they'll believe us.  (slaps 
the table angrily.)  I just don't understand *why* you had to hang around 
students like that!  Drug addiction, juvenile hall -- you know better than 
to expose yourself to those kinds of influences!

DARIA:  Maybe because my parents were so wrapped up in their self-absorbed 
misery, I didn't want to be at home!

(She stands abruptly, nearly causing her chair to tip backward.)

DARIA:  What happened to being on my side??  To believing in me even when 
factual evidence stated otherwise?

HELEN:  Daria, I'm not saying --

DARIA:  That's right, you're not saying *or* doing anything to help me.  
Each time, it's been:  "I can't, Daria... There's no evidence, Daria... 
It won't work, Daria... You shouldn't have done that, Daria."    

HELEN:  Calm *down*, Daria.

DARIA:  What's the point of having you on my side if it's like being alone?! 

HELEN:  I know you're angry and looking for someone to blame, but whether you 
like it or not, you've brought *some* of this on yourse--

DARIA:  Everything you told me in that restaurant was crap.  You don't care 
what I'm going through!

HELEN:  That's not --

DARIA:  Just forget "helping" me anymore.  You're *useless*! 

(Daria turns and storms out of the room, while a wide-eyed Quinn looks on.)

JAKE: (O.S.)  Dammit, Daria, don't talk to your mother that way!  Dammit, come 
back here!  Where *are* you...?!

(Quinn watches her sister thunder up the stairs, then abandons her bowl of 
carrot sticks and runs after her.  Meanwhile, Helen sits as before, her eyes 
locked in front of her, not seeing anything.)

JAKE: (O.S.)  Helen, we can't let her get away with that!  (Pause)  Helen?
(Pause)  Are you okay?

(cut to: )

SCENE 7 (Daria's room)

(Quinn reaches Daria's door just as it is being flung shut.  Without
thinking, Quinn holds up an arm to prevent the door from hitting her face.)

QUINN:  Owww!

(The door falls open, and Quinn rubs her forearm, dreading the bruise that 
will appear.  Daria turns to face her, surprised to have been followed, 
before rage reasserts itself.)

DARIA:  Get out.

QUINN:  Daria, wait.  Please?  

(Daria sinks down on her bed, takes off her glasses, and lays her head in 
hand.  Quinn takes her silence as a sign that it's all right to come in.)

QUINN: (hesitant)  I haven't seen you this mad since you and Mom had that 
I-love-you fight, which I didn't mind then because it distracted her from 
my earrings, but -- (Daria looks up at her with a dark "Hurry *up*" frown.) 
-- what happened downstairs was kind of scary.

DARIA:  Well then, I'm just a scary juvenile delinquent freak, aren't I?

QUINN:  Daria, I know you didn't do anything bad.

DARIA:  How *do* you know?  I messed up that article, didn't I?  I hung out 
with a bad crowd.

QUINN:  I... (Her brow furrows at Daria's words.)  I don't care what Mom says.  
I think it's really mean of that guy to hold your article against you.  You 
wrote it so long ago -- how does *he* know you hurt his store?

DARIA:  Yes, how would he know?  Unless someone told him... like your teacher.

QUINN:  You mean Mr. Phelps?

DARIA:  Who else??

QUINN:  Why are you so hung up on him?  Mom proved he wasn't making me steal
things -- why do you have to blame him for *everything*?

DARIA:  Because he told me so.   

QUINN:  When??

DARIA:  This afternoon, during detention.  

QUINN:  He said that he turned you in to that Lowman's guy?

DARIA:  No, actually, he didn't *say* it.  He just sneered it and insinuated it 
and threatened it, and basically said it without saying it.

QUINN:  If he didn't say it, how do you know that's what he meant?

DARIA:  Because I know!

(She puts on her glasses and gazes at her sister, feeling a sudden need to make
her see her point of view.)

DARIA:  He's getting his revenge on me for trying to take you out of his class.

QUINN:  So that did happen.

DARIA:  I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.  I just wanted you to be in a class
that would benefit you, and I felt like I had to act quickly.  Maybe Phelps 
isn't making you steal, but he's still not a good person.   

(The sympathy fades from Quinn's expression.)
   
QUINN:  Daria, I don't know what kind of dummy you take me for.

DARIA:  I don't think you're dumb --

QUINN:  Why *else* would you try to take me out of a class without telling me??
Unless you thought I couldn't make that decision on my own.    

DARIA:  You would have transferred out of his class?

QUINN:  Of course not!  

(She winds her way around one of the book piles left over from Daria's earlier 
search and stands across from her.)

QUINN:  Mr. Phelps is my *friend*, Daria!  He thinks I'm really worth something,
and he wants to guide me to my potential before I graduate.    

DARIA:  God, you sound just like him.

QUINN:  Whether you like it or not, he's gonna be in my life for a long time.  
We've got some really big plans we're working on.

DARIA:  What do you mean "really big plans"?

(Quinn bites her lip, realizing that she has said too much.)

DARIA:  You're not supposed to be working on *anything* with him.  You're 
supposed to be catching up in your other classes.  You know, where you spend 
the other five hours of your day.

QUINN:  Don't be silly.  I am... catching up in my other classes.

DARIA:  What is he making you do?

QUINN:  Don't look at me like that.

DARIA:  *Tell* me!

(She regrets the anger in her voice almost instantly, as she sees a shadow 
fall over her sister's face.)

QUINN:  He isn't "making" me... God, he was right.  I shouldn't have just assumed 
you would always do the right thing.  You *are* jealous.  Why else would you be
acting this way?  You're just gonna keep pretending that he's trying to hurt 
me until you can force us apart, aren't you?

(Her face becomes pinched as she fights back tears.)

QUINN:  I thought you were finally ready to see me as a smart person, but I
guess I was wrong.  You don't respect me at all.  Maybe you never will.

DARIA:  I don't respect *you*?  Quinn, did you ever seriously think that maybe 
*I* could be right and that Mr. Phelps could be lying?? 

QUINN:  He's not the one who lied in some article.

(Daria's expression becomes pained.)

DARIA:  Of course.  Why *should* you believe me?  He's your teacher -- I'm 
just your sister.  Sixteen years of sibling support can't compete.   

QUINN:  Daria, I'm not saying you're a bad sister.  Just that there's a *way* 
he sees me that you can't, and maybe I just have to accept it.

DARIA:  In other words, if I'm not kissing your butt and calling you "special,"
I'm not supportive.

QUINN:  You're not listening --

DARIA:  No, I heard it pretty clearly.  I refuse to feed into the Princess 
Quinn mindset.  My support doesn't always come with a shiny gold star. 

QUINN:  No, it comes with resentment and sneaking around and refusing to talk 
to me like I'm mature.  

DARIA:  Because you've done much to make me believe it.

QUINN:  You see?!  *This* is what I'm talking about!

DARIA:  You know what your problem is, Quinn?  The reason why you don't see my 
actions with Phelps as supportive?  It's because *you* would never do the same.

QUINN:  You're right, *I* respect a little thing called "privacy," which I 
would think you, of all people, would value.

DARIA:  No, I mean you would never go out of your way like that for me.  (She 
turns her face away.)  If you thought I was in trouble, you would never try to
investigate.    

QUINN:  I'm here *now*, aren't I??  And last spring when you were on the
underground paper, I remember you were really angry all the time.  I tried 
talking with you, but you shut me out.

DARIA:  And how did you respond?  Did you keep pressing?  Did you ask Mom or 
Dad what was the matter?  Did you talk to Jane or my teachers?

(Quinn's face takes on a vaguely embarrassed expression.)

DARIA:  No, you didn't.  It didn't even occur to you, did it?  You'll go the 
extra mile when our family is threatened, but if the problem doesn't affect 
you directly, you won't bother.  Not when the problem is mine. 

QUINN:  I *told* you I just didn't want to pry.

DARIA:  Which is a polite way of saying you didn't give a crap.

(Quinn's face falls.)

QUINN:  I...

(Her expression becomes distressed as she wonders if this could be true.  
Her lower lip trembles a little, then her eyes narrow.)

QUINN:  Like *you* thought I was even worth paying attention to before I
got glasses and looked a brain!

DARIA:  Quinn --

QUINN:  Just stay out of my life, Daria!

(She turns and marches toward the door, knocking over one of Daria's book 
piles in the process.  For a moment Quinn gazes down at the scattered books 
with remorse, then continues onward.  Daria stands up and strides toward 
the door, watches her as she retreats to her room.) 

DARIA:  *Fine*.  Why should I bother to help you, when you won't listen to
anything I say?!  Next time you're in trouble, you're on your own!  

(She closes her door hard.)


END OF ACT THREE


ACT FOUR


SCENE 1 (Lawndale High classroom, Tuesday afternoon)

(Quinn approaches the desk of her History teacher, Mr. Nelson, with a pensive
expression.  She knows what he is going to say even before he faces her.)

QUINN:  You wanted to see me?

NELSON:  Yes, Quinn...

(He opens his assignment book and lays it before her.  Quinn stares at the grid,
each row with a student's name beside it.)

NELSON:  I've blocked some of these out because you joined the class a few weeks 
in.  Currently, you've been present through ten assignments.  How many boxes do
you see marked?

QUINN:  Um... three.  But I can explain --

NELSON:  From what I've seen in class, you don't seem to have trouble following
along.  The assignments you *have* turned in were fine, so am I right in assuming
that you understand the material?

(Quinn nods rapidly.)

QUINN:  Oh yeah, your lectures are *great*.  They're never confusing.

NELSON:  I'm glad to hear it.  So then there's something outside of school that's
kept you from completing your work.

QUINN:  Yeah, my parents separated a couple months ago.  Things have been really
rough at home and I haven't been able to concentrate too well.  

NELSON: (nods)  I remember speaking to your mother about that.  I really do 
sympathize with what you're going through, which is why I've been lenient over 
the past several weeks.  But with four weeks left of the trimester, I'm afraid 
your grace period has come to an end.  I need you to complete the unfinished 
assignments and turn in future ones on time.

QUINN: (reddens)  Okay...

NELSON:  If you feel that home doesn't give you a comfortable environment, 
some of the other teachers and I hold study sessions a few times a week in the
library after school.  If nothing else, it'll get you in the homework spirit.

QUINN: (nods)  That sounds great.  I'll be there.  

NELSON:  You seem like a good student.  I don't want to have to fail you.

(Quinn stops nodding and her face turns ashen, as the word "fail" hits her 
full-on with its harsh ugliness.) 

(cut to: )

SCENE 2 (The Grove, Tuesday, late afternoon)

(Quinn sits in a chair on the outdoor balcony level, gazing over the railing at 
a gentle stream that runs through the nearby woods.)

PHELPS:  Penny for your thoughts, Ms. Morgendorffer.

QUINN:  *Oh*.

(She turns to face him across the table, where he is pouring the last of the tea
into his cup.  He looks at her with benign inquisitiveness.)
 
QUINN:  Sorry.  I'm just thinking of how screwed up my stupid life is right now.
 
PHELPS:  Is this about your sister?
 
(Quinn feels her eyes moisten, and wipes the edges quickly before tears can spill
over.) 
  
QUINN:  I still can't believe the way she acted.  She was so angry, almost like
she wasn't herself.  Daria's been really mad before, but she's never *freaked* out
like that.
 
PHELPS:  I'm so sorry you had such a shock, my dear.  I'd feared it might occur,
but had hoped I would be wrong.
 
QUINN:  Now, it's like, I wonder what else she hasn't told me?  I still don't
think she did drugs, but it makes me wonder if she really *is* as sure about
everything as she seemed to be.

PHELPS:  As I told you, she is human.  Predictably, regrettably human.  You may
love her and she may, in fact, love you, but she still puts her selfish and
paranoid fantasies ahead of your well-being.  I know about it all too well.
 
QUINN:  Did someone do that to you?
 
(Phelps smiles sadly.)
 
PHELPS:  My partner.  He and I had a misunderstanding not too long ago.  He let
some incidents in the past color his behavior toward me in the present.  I still
haven't quite got over it.
 
QUINN:  I'm sorry.
 
PHELPS:  I'm afraid all you can do is love her as your sister, but always remember
that she'll never see you for the person you are.
 
(Quinn exhales softly, the stream below blurring before her eyes.)
 
PHELPS:  Turning to other matters:  I think you'll be very pleased with what I've 
done with your last project.

QUINN:  You showed it to that professor guy you know??

PHELPS:  I just sent it to him.  I've already told him all about you, and if he
likes what he sees, he'll agree to look at all of your work.

QUINN:  He'd really be willing to wait two years to get me into Cambridge??

PHELPS:  If he thinks you're worth it, as I do.  In today's competitive
environment, a student can use all of the ins that he or she can get. 

QUINN:  Oh my God, in England I'd get to be with all those cute European men 
with really cool accents.  I need to start shopping for a more sophisticated 
wardrobe.  

PHELPS: (amused)  Now, now, don't get ahead of yourself.  Cambridge is a very 
tough maths and science university, and if you get in, you might find yourself 
alone in a library for days on end.  That's if you even want to attend.

QUINN:  Of *course* I'd want to attend!  Mr. Phelps, the idea that I have a 
chance to get into an actual college, an *important* college is... I can't 
believe it.  I'm so glad you never told me what that last assignment was 
for, or else I would have messed it up.

PHELPS:  Trust me: It was hard keeping it a secret from you.

QUINN:  This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me.  Thank you.

PHELPS:  You've more than earned it, Ms. Morgendorffer.  

QUINN:  Can I tell my parents?

PHELPS:  I would wait until we're more certain -- wouldn't want them to accuse 
me of filling you with false hope.  Also... (He takes a sip of tea.) you might 
want to produce few more samples, to *really* round out your portfolio. 

QUINN:  Okay.  (wrinkles her nose.)  I'm sure I can find time to do them in
between work for my other classes.

PHELPS:  Yes, your other classes -- wouldn't want to forget those and anger 
your mother. (arches a brow.)  You know, Ms. Morgendorffer, we don't need to
meet up regularly in order for you to do the extra samples.  If you need this
time to focus on your other course work, please feel free.

(Quinn looks at him intently, her mouth curving into a smile.)

QUINN:  I *want* to be here, Mr. Phelps.

(Phelps smiles his small smile in return.)

PHELPS:  All right, then.

(cut to: )
 
SCENE 3 (Lawndale High, Wednesday)

(Daria and Jane walk down the hall toward Mrs. Manson's office, Daria rigid 
and visibly angry.)

JANE:  You should start wearing one of those sombreros with a hidden camera.

DARIA:  That wouldn't be obvious.

JANE:  A tape recorder then.  Something.  Next time you're alone with that creep, 
you need *some* kind of evidence so he can't get away with the things he says.

DARIA:  He never *says* anything -- he just insinuates.  Even if I made a
recording, he could get off scott-free.

JANE:  You don't know that.  Come on, you can't afford to be defeatist now.  

DARIA:  Jane, he said that he turned me in to the Lowman's owner.  Any objective 
person would view that as an act of good citizenship, not intimidation.  What 
could I plead in my defense -- that I didn't want to be caught?

JANE:  He also said a bunch of other stuff you didn't like, or you wouldn't 
be having this reaction to him.  

DARIA:  Let's just say that I don't exactly trust my judgment these days.

(Jane gets a worried look on her face.  Just then, a male student coming from 
the opposite direction runs into Daria -- hard.  She nearly falls backwards,
dropping the book she was carrying to the ground.  The student and his friends
continue on without pausing.)

JANE: (glaring after them)  Watch it, you jerkoff!

(She kneels down to pick up Daria's book, while Daria shakes herself off, her 
face showing a lack of surprise.  Jane hands the book to her.)

JANE:  Some idiots need to pay attention to the world around them.

DARIA:  There seem to be a lot of those today.  And always around me.

JANE:  It's only happened a few times.  You don't know --

DARIA:  Jane, I appreciate your glass-half-full mentality, but if there's one 
thing I *do* know, it's that they're doing it on purpose.  Either because they 
think I'm a nutty freak from the Lowdown article, or because they know what
happened with Lowman's.

JANE:  Jodie said she got the Lowdown to print a correction.  By the next issue --

DARIA:  It will already be too late.

(A group of football players marches toward Daria.  Robert knocks the book out 
of Daria's hand.)

ROBERT:  We want a word with you... ma'am.

PLAYERS:  Yeah!

DARIA:  About?

ROBERT:  Coach told us that Lowman's dropped our sponsorship because of you.

DARIA: (flat)  And who told your coach?

ROBERT:  Now we don't have money to rent buses for away games.

JANE: (flat)  Just like all those starving children in Ethiopia.  
   
ROBERT:  Believe me when I say this, ma'am, but we'll make you regret the day 
you ever *heard* of sports!

DARIA:  More so?

JANE:  Lay one hand on her and I'll tell the school that you were at Cashman's
trying on the spring line of designer dresses.  (Robert stares at her.)  Sitting
next to your ex-girlfriend in science has its perks. 

ROBERT:  I... urg.

(Spooked, he turns to flee, while the other players follow after him with
curious expressions.  Again, Jane leans down and picks up Daria's book.)

JANE:  Okay, there was nothing shifty about *their* threat.  Let's round up
a trusty authority figure and report what just happened.

DARIA: (shrugs)  Go ahead.

JANE:  Daria, I'm getting worried about you.  You may not be the most proactive,
but you know how to stick up for yourself when it counts.  If you just give up 
and let people beat on you, your life will suck in ways that you never dreamed
possible and you'd be letting that Phelps jerk win. 

(Daria frowns at the thought.)

DARIA:  Even if I did try to fight it, and I *were* right about Phelps...

(She pauses in front of Mrs. Manson's door, her shoulders slumping.)

DARIA:  ...who would believe me now? 

(cut to: )

SCENE 4 (Mrs. Manson's office, after school)

(Daria sits across from Mrs. Manson at the round table first seen in
"Esteemsters."  Mrs. Manson holds up an inkblot drawing.)

MANSON:  How does this make you feel?

DARIA:  What is it supposed to be?

MANSON:  It can be anything you want it to be.

DARIA:  Ah, one of *those* tests.  

MANSON:  That's right -- you've had several psychological exams in the past.

DARIA:  I wouldn't call two "several," especially since one was required of all 
new students. 

MANSON:  I'm just trying to get a fuller sense of your background.  (She leans 
down to jot notes on a clipboard.)  Now again, what does this image make you feel?

DARIA:  Eyestrain.

MANSON:  *Emotionally*.

DARIA:  Irritation at getting eyestrain from a pointless inkblot test.

(Mrs. Manson sighs palpably.)

MANSON:  On a scale of one to ten, with one being zero and ten being high, where 
would you place your irritation level?

DARIA:  Twenty-five.

(Mrs. Manson writes this down, then holds up a second inkblot drawing.)

MANSON:  Would you say this drawing makes you feel (peers down at her notes.) 
depressed, angry, or frightened?

DARIA:  Isn't that a leading question?

MANSON:  Not all of these questions are open-ended, Dara.

DARIA:  Then I'd say... bored out of my mind.

MANSON: (tense)  You're not being very helpful.

DARIA:  Only because I don't understand why I'm being put through this.  I messed 
up an article that cost the school a discount and a few sponsorships.  What does 
that have to do with my mental health?

MANSON:  Ms. Li merely wishes to establish whether you have a pattern of vengeance
toward the school.

DARIA:  Then she should check the scribbles inside my locker that read "All work 
and no play gives Daria a lust for the kill."

MANSON:  Do you...?

DARIA: (angry)  That was a joke.

MANSON:  I see.  (She jots down some notes.)

DARIA:  Why keep going?  It's obvious you've already made up your mind about me.  

MANSON:  Yes... well... Dara, your behavior at school *has* followed some 
disturbing patterns.  Inattentiveness, sudden anger, lack of compassion for
others.  Some people have noticed lately that you're even more antisocial than
usual.  

DARIA:  "Some people"?  *Which* people?

MANSON:  It doesn't matter --

DARIA:  I deserve to know the reputations of those who would pass judgment 
against me.

MANSON:  Oh... well... some respectable teachers.

DARIA:  *Some*?  Or just one?

MANSON:  I don't recall the actual number...

DARIA:  A math teacher?

MANSON:  I think that might have been one of them...

(Daria inhales sharply, with both disbelief and lack of surprise.)    

MANSON:  They worried about it being a prelude for things to come. 

DARIA:  Then it's a good thing my name is Dar-ee-a, or I might have cause
for concern.

MANSON:  Your parents' separation no doubt put strain on an already at-risk
personality.  Your time on that newspaper could be seen as a final tipping
point.

DARIA:  You mean the paper I wrote for *before* my parents separated?

(Mrs. Manson jots down notes.)

DARIA:  This is ridiculous.  I would *not* commit violence against the school. 

MANSON:  Few students would formally claim that they want to commit violence, 
especially to a school psychologist.  Nonetheless, we have a new treatment 
plan for those that seem more likely than others.  

DARIA: (eyes widen)  What *kind* of treatment plan?

MANSON:  One that gives them the intensive supervision that they need.  Don't 
worry, dear... I'm sure you'll like it.

(cut to: )

SCENE 5 (cafe on Degas Street, late afternoon)

(Meanwhile, unaware of Daria's current dilemma, Jake and Helen share a booth.)

JAKE:  She shouldn't have called you useless, Helen!

HELEN: (quiet)  Why not, Jake?  It's the truth, isn't it?  After everything 
I've done, I can't think of a single thing that's helped Daria or Quinn.  The 
one time Daria really needed my support, I just... piled on.  I've let her down.

JAKE:  Don't say that!

HELEN:  Jake, whether you realize it or not, I haven't brought my A game for a 
very long time.  I should be nailing that Stalinist Ms. Li to the wall for what 
she did.  Instead, I keep making one misstep after another.  I thought after
our separation, all of my uncertainty was supposed to dissolve and I'd regain 
focus on my life and my career, but it hasn't happened.  Maybe it never will.

JAKE:  I've never heard you talk like this.

HELEN:  Daria deserves a better advocate.   

JAKE:  No, no, you can't lose confidence like that.  You're a strong woman and a 
great mother!  You're just trying to make do with a lousy situation.  I bet lots 
of women would do much worse than you.

(Helen cocks a brow.)

JAKE:  You're not like me -- *I'm* the useless one.

HELEN:  Oh Jake, don't say that.

JAKE:  I'm good for a gift, but I don't see them every night.  When I do see 
them, I never know what to say.  I thought I was getting better with talking 
to them about stuff, but I still never know what they're thinking.  If only I
hadn't wasted so much time...

(His face grows melancholy, and Helen finds herself smiling with sympathy.  She
reaches across the table and pats his hand.)

HELEN:  Listen to me: Daria and Quinn love you.  You will *always* be a part of
their lives.  I'll make sure of it.

(Jake's expression grows faintly hopeful.) 

HELEN:  Thank you for checking up on me.  It was very sweet.

JAKE:  I just hate hearing you depressed.  

HELEN:  What are we going to do with those girls of ours?  Family therapy is 
obviously out of the question.  So what, short of us reconciling, would ease
their resentment?  

(Jake shakes his head and sighs.)

HELEN:  Sometimes I wonder if they could have been spared a lot of grief had 
the events leading to our separation gone differently.

JAKE:  You do?

HELEN:  We've said it before, Jake -- it happened so fast.  Too fast.  While the 
decision felt right to both of us, we gave the girls absolutely no time to
prepare, ask questions, and accept our reasoning.  

(She bites her lip, her expression pained.)

HELEN:  For God's sake, I just ran off and left you three for most of the weekend!
How could they *not* think the decision to separate just popped into my head
during a nervous breakdown?!

JAKE:  You really think they believe that??

HELEN:  Maybe not... but I sometimes do.  *Not* that the idea was sudden or the 
result of my breakdown, but that we could have done more.  Don't you feel that
way?

JAKE: (quiet)  Yeah.

(Helen cocks a wry, rueful brow.)

HELEN:  Well it's too late now.  You can't change the past.

JAKE:  I think they're more worried about the future. 

HELEN:  Join the club. 

JAKE:  You don't know, either?

HELEN:  Why would I know what lies ahead any more than you?  I'm trying to adjust
to life as a single person, too, you know.

JAKE:  But what about all that sculpting stuff you wanted to do??

HELEN:  It's not going the way I anticipated.  Sometimes I wonder if I even 
have the artist's bug anymore.  All of my best work was in Greg's classroom, 
and since I never brought it home, it probably found a nice resting spot in 
the incinerator. 

(Jake winces a little at her mention of Greg, before noting her sad expression.)

JAKE:  Yeah, well, I know what you think of me -- that I'm living the life of a 
bachelor stud, with my big-screen T.V. and my toilet lids up.  But --

HELEN:  I never thought you were a "stud."  (quiet)  Studs don't usually settle
for just one other woman.

JAKE:  What I'm trying to say is that it's not easy for me, either, Helen.  
Living away from you doesn't feel like a big release.  I mean it's good, but... 
a lot scarier than I thought it would be.

HELEN:  Do you ever think about moving back home?

(Jake looks at her with surprise.)

HELEN:  I'm -- I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have just thrown that out at you.

JAKE:  *No*, I mean... I thought you wanted a divorce.

HELEN:  I was angry when I said that.  I don't really... I don't know.

JAKE:  Yeah...

(They gaze at each other solemnly for a moment.)

JAKE:  I think about coming home a lot.  But...

HELEN:  Yes?

JAKE:  It -- I don't know, it doesn't feel like the right time.  I feel like 
I'm just getting started, like there are *things* I need to learn before I'm 
ready to come back.  Don't you feel that way?

HELEN:  Of course.  (frowns)  Although I don't have someone warming the bed for 
me when I get home.

JAKE:  Dammit, Helen.  That's not what I was talking about at all!

HELEN:  Well why not, Jake??  Is your new relationship so shallow that you'd be 
willing to chuck it aside in order to come home, or do you have deeper feelings 
for that sweet, caring, opportunistic hussy?

JAKE:  See, *this* is why the girls don't want to meet her.  They hear *you* talk 
and they get the idea that she's just some cheap tramp!

HELEN:  Can I help it if the girls don't like seeing their parents with people 
who *aren't* their parents??  And I certainly wasn't the one who started seeing 
her without the family's knowledge, leading everyone to --

JAKE:  Don't try to pin the separation on me!  I admit it, okay?  I screwed up.
*I* *screwed* *up*!  But it wasn't just me, and you know it.  If you hadn't 
kissed that Greg, you never would have avoided me, and I wouldn't have thought
you'd stopped caring!

HELEN:  *Oh*, so the separation's all *my* fault, is it?!

JAKE:  You're the one who came up with that idea about us needing to grow!

HELEN:  If I recall, you *agreed* with that idea.  Jake, you can't just claim
something is good, then pretend you never felt that way when it goes sour!

JAKE:  Oh yeah?!  Well there were lots of reasons we split up, but it wasn't all
my fault, and don't you dare say it was!

(He lapses into silence, and he and Helen gaze at each other tensely.  They
suddenly become aware that the cafe is very quiet, and turn to see several 
patrons staring in their direction.  After gazing back with sheepish, apologetic 
expressions, they turn to look at one another again, this time reflective.)

HELEN:  Let's be honest, Jake:  We're not living apart just because of my kiss 
or your girlfriend, or to achieve a vague definition of personal growth, are we?  

(Jake exhales softly, then shakes his head.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 6 (parking lot, shortly after)

(Jake and Helen walk each other to their cars.)

JAKE:  You'll keep me up-to-date on what's happening with Daria?

HELEN:  Of course.  (Her brow creases.)  Although as strange as this sounds, 
in some ways I'm more worried about Quinn.

JAKE:  Quinn??  What's wrong with her??

HELEN:  Well, she's not in any trouble yet, but she's still far behind in most 
of her classes, and I'm not convinced that she's doing what she needs to in 
order to catch up.  I made her write out a To Do list, and she shows me what 
she's completed every night, but earlier today, I got a call from one of her
teachers saying that she's only received *one* make-up assignment.  I need to 
have a serious talk with Quinn, but this mess with Daria --

JAKE:  Don't worry: Between the two of us, we'll get her whipped back into shape.  
When she comes over on Friday, I'll have her eating, sleeping, and *peeing*
homework.

HELEN: (smiles)  Thank you, Jake... I think.  She says she's been focusing on 
*all* of her classes, but...

JAKE:  You think she's lying?

(Helen pauses, then nods.)

HELEN:  I wonder about her relationship with that Mr. Phelps, her math teacher.  
While it's true there's no concrete evidence to suggest wrongdoing, I have 
to confess that I'm starting to share Daria's concerns about him.  There's
*something* that makes me uncomfortable that I can't put my finger on.

JAKE:  Oh, he's gay.

HELEN: (glares)  Not *that*.  I mean it seems like he has trouble showing basic
empathy for other people.

JAKE:  He *scares* me!

HELEN:  I worry about what someone like that could do to Quinn.  Daria may be 
more socially awkward, but I think Quinn is more fragile...

(cut to: )  

SCENE 6 (Phelps's kitchen, evening)

(Phelps comes in, looking through a couple of colored fliers.  Drying his hands
at the sink, Marshall peers over in his direction.)

MARSHALL:  What are those?

PHELPS:  Just adverts for an event that a student of mine would like.

MARSHALL:  Quinn?

(Phelps flinches a little, as he always does when her name is said aloud, as 
if Marshall were unveiling an important secret.)

PHELPS:  Yes.

MARSHALL:  You've been spending more and more time with this girl.

PHELPS:  Jealous, are we?

MARSHALL:  Not at all.  Assuming this doesn't mean you've switched sides.

(For a moment, Phelps's expression becomes vividly angry.)

PHELPS:  Don't even joke about such things, Marshall.  My relationship with 
Quinn has *never* been physical.  It is much, much deeper than that.

MARSHALL:  In what way?

PHELPS:  I wouldn't call her my "daughter," per se, but I do feel as though
she's a part of me.  I can feel her thoughts... her loneliness.  

(His face grows reflective.)

PHELPS:  All her life, she's tried to fit into a world where she doesn't quite
belong.  She's managed to fool enough people into believing she's happy, but 
has never been satisfied.  

MARSHALL:  She told you this?

PHELPS: (nods)  Now that she knows she can trust me, she's completely open 
about her feelings.  We think so much alike, we're so in tune with each other's
thoughts, our relationship is deeper than blood. 

(Marshall tries to fight back his concern, but does not quite succeed.)    

PHELPS:  You should have seen her face when we started working in higher
mathematics -- as if someone had given her a cure for a fatal disease.  I was 
the first person to know what she was really looking for.  (He sees Marshall's 
expression.)  You think I'm exaggerating, don't you? 

MARSHALL:  You've felt this sort of affection for students before.

PHELPS:  This is different.  I've never felt so... fulfilled with another student,
so excited about his or her prospects.  I see a very bright future ahead of her.
One where she'll be a renowned mathematician who still meets with her old teacher
now and then to discuss her latest discoveries.

MARSHALL:  Is that the future she wants?

PHELPS:  It's the future that I think would suit her.

MARSHALL:  All well and good, Alfred, but be careful not to assume too much about
this girl.  How well do you really know her?

PHELPS:  Well enough that I feel closer to her than to anyone else.

MARSHALL:  Including me?

(There is a beat of silence, before Phelps places the fliers in his pocket and
looks at his partner with a piercing, rueful expression.)

PHELPS:  When was the last time *we* were close, Marshall?  

(Marshall's mouth opens with surprise, his eyes growing pained and somewhat 
indignant.  Even so, he cannot deny the truth behind his partner's words, one 
that he has resisted until now.)

(cut to: )
              
SCENE 7 (sidewalk, Friday, late afternoon/early evening)

(Jane walks home with Daria, who looks as though she has trouble walking on her 
own.  She clutches a large envelope.)  

DARIA:  She wants me to transfer out of my classes into a special "day group" 
for disturbed students.

JANE:  It's a wonder she didn't just expel you.

DARIA:  That's probably her next step.  (She feels sick to her stomach.)  This
can't be happening, can it?  I fell asleep after eating the Good Time Chinese kung
pao "surprise" and am having a nightmare.

JANE:  Any minute now, lime jello Gumbies will rain down from the sky.  At
least if this is my dream and not yours.

(Daria's shoulders slump under the weight of her reality.  Jane looks at her with sympathy.)

DARIA:  Maybe Ms. Li just wants me to leave on my own, to avoid the legal trouble 
of kicking me out.  Right now, that doesn't sound too bad.

ANDREA: (O.S.)  It won't solve anything.

(Daria and Jane freeze at the sound of her voice and glance around for the 
source.  Andrea appears as if out of thin air, dressed in her usual Gothic
attire.)

JANE:  Donnie and Marie's love child is back!

DARIA:  Tracking us from the shadows in her true Gothic identity.

ANDREA:  My *only* identity.  I'm never wearing that crap again.

DARIA:  Where have you been??

ANDREA:  It doesn't matter.  I'm leaving.

DARIA:  Lawndale High?

ANDREA:  This town.  I dropped out of school last week.

DARIA:  What??  (Her stomach tightens.)  Because of the new program?

(Andrea nods.)

JANE:  Was it that bad?

ANDREA:  It was worse.

DARIA:  How?

(Andrea remains silent for a long moment, so long that Daria and Jane aren't 
sure if she'll ever speak.)

ANDREA:  The teachers we had weren't the usual teachers.  Li hired them from
some "tough love" boot camp school.  They're not interested if you learn.  They 
don't even think you'll get past high school.  All they want is to turn you 
into a quivering pile of pus.

(Daria cringes at her choice of words.)

DARIA:  You're not exaggerating, are you?

ANDREA:  All day, I felt like I was being dissected.  Every move I made was a 
sign that I was about to do something worse.  There were fifteen of us from the
four grades and no curriculum that covered us all.  Not that they taught anything,
anyway -- they preferred to humiliate.  You remember Danny?

DARIA:  The Danny whose articles put the underground staffers in hot water?    

ANDREA:  By the time I started, he'd already cracked.  He would sit at his desk 
shaking, and he'd only been there a week.  It turned out that the teachers liked
to call him to the front and make him piss in a cup for random urine checks, call
him "stupid" and "ugly," give him strength tests they knew Danny would fail.  I
heard that Danny first tried to smartass his way out of it, but they just kept 
him up there, piling it on, 'til it was too much.

JANE:  No one did anything to stop it?

ANDREA:  It was like we were cut off.  We had our own wing, which none of the
usual teachers or Li ever came to visit.  It's a wonder Li even knows what's
going on... or cares.  (Andrea shrugs a shoulder.)  By the time they tried that 
on me, I knew I'd had enough.

DARIA:  Couldn't you transfer to another high school?

ANDREA:  If you transfer, your record comes with you.  I'd have just wound up in 
a program that was as bad, but in a different way.  (A rare scowl mars her face.)
I know I'm not a teacher's pet.  I have big problems -- but the worst thing I ever
did to that school was leave it alone.  I wanted to give the new program a chance,
play by the school's rules, but once I knew for sure that I was saner than *they*
were, it was time to bail.

JANE:  So what now?

ANDREA:  I'm getting my GED and moving to Baltimore.  A cousin of mine has an 
apartment there and he can get me a job.  Not like I have much choice -- my 
parents kicked me out.

(She says this in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she's already made peace with 
the situation, while Daria tries to swallow down her dread.)

DARIA:  I guess this is good-bye, then.

(Andrea shrugs a shoulder in agreement.)

ANDREA:  Never thought I would get to know someone who was accepted by the 
mainstream crowd.  (She glances down at Daria's envelope with a vague look of 
regret.)  Or that this would happen to you.

(Daria looks her in the eye, with as much courage as she can muster.)

DARIA:  I'll fight this.  For both of us.

(Andrea looks back with appreciation and skepticism, then characteristically 
departs without another word.  Daria watches after her, feeling the loss of
someone in her life who wasn't a friend, yet was more than an acquaintance.  
Her courage starts to slip away.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 8 (Morgendorffer residence, soon after)

(Daria enters and is met immediately by a red-faced, angry Helen.  She holds 
out the envelope limply for her mother to take.)

HELEN:  *Don't* bother showing me, Daria, I already know.  The school phoned me.

(Daria heads toward the couches, bracing herself for the inevitable torrent 
of her mother's disappointment.)
 
HELEN:  I've never been so outraged in my life!  They want to move you to a
classroom filled with emotionally troubled students?!  Compress your seven 
class periods into four and give you round-the-clock surveillance?!  And they 
want permission to *medicate* you if you act out?!

(Daria sinks down on the center couch and stares at the floor.)  

HELEN:  The very idea that you require special scrutiny is *ridiculous*!

DARIA:  What?

HELEN:  They're not going to get away with this.  You won't spend a single 
minute in this "intensive" program even if I have to rip you out of school 
and educate you myself!

(Daria looks at Helen, her expression filled with hope.)

DARIA:  You don't agree with them?

HELEN:  Oh Daria, you may be many things -- stubborn, outspoken, and sometimes 
narrow-minded -- but you *aren't* mentally or emotionally unstable.  Did you
actually think I would take their side??

DARIA:  I didn't know what to think.  You seemed so angry about the Lowman's 
article, I thought you might have lost faith in me.

HELEN:  Honey, that could never happen.  (renewed outrage.)  Court-established 
precedent, my hide.  I don't care if the laws *have* given schools huge amounts 
of authority -- this is a clear-cut case of overreach!  One that I don't think 
will withstand scrutiny.  If your principal tries to put you in that program,
I'll slap a lawsuit on her so fast, her heart will explode!

DARIA:  Or something she'd actually miss.

(She feels the corners of her mouth turning upward as Helen opens her briefcase 
on the kitchen counter and takes out a day planner filled with contacts.  
Remembering their heated exchange over the Lowman's article, Daria stands up 
and walks over to the counter.)

DARIA:  Mom?  About what I said a few days ago -- I was wrong.  You *have* been
supportive.  I was just so angry that you weren't doing things the way I wanted
*when* I wanted, I ignored all of the work you *were* doing.

(Helen turns to face her daughter, surprised.)

HELEN:  Daria, all I've wanted is the best possible outcome for you.  Sometimes 
that meant only taking the most solid evidence you had, because I've seen too
many cases where the plaintiff winds up with nothing but shattered credibility.
I love you too much to let that happen.  I know I can't be everything you need,
but believe me, I *am* trying.  

DARIA:  And you didn't deserve to have me blow up at you.  I'm sorry.

HELEN:  Oh honey, you don't... (Her eyes soften.)  Thank you.

(They gaze at each other silently for a moment.  Helen then returns to her
briefcase.)

HELEN:  Still, it's time to step it up a notch or two.  Let's see how much we 
can do before your sister comes home and you leave for your father's.

DARIA:  Quinn isn't home yet?

HELEN:  No.  I left a message on her cell phone telling her to get back from
wherever the hell she's been before your dad starts to wonder where you are.  
All I can say is that she'd *better* be at the library...

(cut to: )

SCENE 9 (Morgendorffer residence, night)

(At almost nine o' clock, Quinn slips in the door and, like Daria, comes 
instantly face to face with her mother.)

HELEN:  Where were you?!

QUINN:  The library.

HELEN:  The library closes at six on Fridays, Quinn.  Try again.

QUINN:  *Okay*, I was shopping with Stacy at the mall and I lost track of time!  

HELEN:  Then it must have been a different Stacy who phoned an hour ago, asking
for your father's number so she could reach you.

QUINN:  If this is about me missing a night at Dad's, I totally intend to 
call him and arrange to sleep over a different... Dad?

(Over Helen's shoulder,