Later that day as the student body rushed out of Lawndale High, Daria walked over to Jane's locker. Jane was slowly transferring books from her locker to her backpack.

"Hey Jane," Daria said, "Want to go do something? I'm Tom free this evening. We can go celebrate your freedom from the tyranny of art, or something."

"Uh sure, but can we raincheck for a little while? There are a few things I need to do here before I can go."

Daria shrugged, "I can wait."

"No, no," Jane said hastily, "you don't have to, I wouldn't want to bore you."

"What are you doing exactly?" Daria asked suspiciously.

"I'm uh, cleaning my stuff out of the art room. Yeah, since I'm no longer an artist I don't need to keep all that crap in the art room. So I figured I'd just tidy up a bit. See, something you'd have no interest participating in."

"Uh sure," Daria replied, unconvinced. "Give me a call when you get home, ok?"

"You got it compadre. Talk to you tonight then," Jane said, shooing her friend off.

"Yeah, right," Daria said, skeptically, but not wanting to pry into Jane's affairs. Daria walked out of the school but stopped after going a short distance. "I should go back and talk to Jane, she's hiding something." Before Daria could return to the school however, Tom drove up in his car.

"Hey Daria," Tom called out.

"Tom? What are you doing here? I thought you had that thing."

He shrugged, "It got rescheduled and I suddenly had some free time on my hands. So I figured the best way to spend that free time was with you. Come on in, if we hurry we can catch the start of that 'Sick, Sad World' marathon."

Daria hesitated, unsure of her next move. "Well Jane didn't want me around, and who am I to pry?" She rationalized with herself. She got in the car, "Let's roll."

------------------------------------------

As Daria drove off with Tom, Jane was standing in the hall outside the auditorium, gripped by indecision.

"Do I really want to do this? I mean, being the art chick is one thing, but being a theater geek is something all together different. Am I ready for that level of ostracism?"As she stood there debating with herself a trio of students walked past her. "Huh, that tall one's pretty good looking," she thought to herself. The trio continued past her and into the auditorium."Well that settles it, ostracism doesn't sound so bad when you've got someone to share it with." She followed the group into the auditorium.

Inside the theater, Jane saw a large cluster of students surrounding O'Neill down in front of the stage. The threesome she had seen enter had made their way down front and were sitting on the edge of the stage. As unobtrusively as possible Jane slipped into a seat towards the back of the group.

"Might as well not announce my presence to the whole world," she thought. She watched as more students continued to file in. She never even noticed the figure walking down her row until it collided with her.

"Hey, watch it!" Jane snapped.

"Uhm, sorry," an all too familiar, perky voice said.

"Quinn?" Jane asked in amazement, "What the hell are you doing here"

"Jane? I could ask you the same thing."

"Signing up for the tech crew." Jane replied simply.

"Trying out for a part to get the extra credit."

"Let me guess, you don't want anyone to see you so you came back here." Quinn nodded. "Pull up a chair and we can be invisible together."

"Ewww, why would I want to do that?"

"You're at the tryouts for a school play voluntarily. You can't hurt your social standing any more by sitting next to me."

Quinn thought about this for a moment then shrugged, "I guess, but we're not sitting together if anyone asks."

"Boy you sure know how to kill a romantic moment."

"Ewwwww, that's it, I'm leaving," Quinn said, standing up.

"No, sorry, forget I said anything," Jane said hastily. "So, what brings you here?"

"The extra credit of course," Quinn said as she settled back into her seat.

"But I thought you had transformed into an academic juggernaut over the summer."

"Well that's what I'm trying to do, but it's hard when they keep piling stuff on. Why can't I, like, work at my own pace?"

"And how is adding the school play to your to do list going to help you out there?"

"I'm just here for the extra credit. I don't want to actually be in the play, ick."

"How silly of me to think otherwise."

"Ok everyone," O'Neill called out. "I know you're all excited to be here and I'm sure we all want to get through this as quickly as possible. Now, for those of you who are here to volunteer for the crew, if you could just wait until the auditions are finished, I'd like to have a word with all of you. Also, even if you are just signing up for the crew, please feel free to get up on stage and work a scene for us."

"Yeah right," Jane scoffed.

"Now, when you come up to do your scene, could you please sign the book on the stage so I know who's tried out." He clapped his hands in anticipation, "Ok, then, who'd like to start?"

"I'll go," Kevin called out.

"Thank-you Kevin."

"Oh, this should be a trip," Jane muttered to herself as Kevin climbed onto the stage.

"Hi, I'm Kevin, I'm the QB," Kevin said.

"What scene are you going to be doing for us?" O'Neill asked.

"Uh," Kevin looked down at the script in his hands, "Waiting for Godot, scene one." He said, mangling the pronunciation.

"Ohhh, 'Waiting for Godot,' excellent choice." Unlike Kevin, O'Neill pronounced the name correctly.

Kevin lookeddown at the script and began to read. "Act One, Scene one. Two men are standing..."

"Hehehe, Kevin, you don't have to set the scene for us, just act our the dialogue."

"Oh, ok." Kevin resumed his recitation. "Vlad...Vladimir: What are we doing here? He paces. Es...estra...Estragon! We're waiting for Godot. Estragon sits down and rubs his feet."

"Now Kevin, you're not supposed to read the parts in parenthesis, you're supposed to do that."

"Ok, not a problem." Kevin picked up where he left off. "Vladimir: Why are you rubbing your feet? Estragon..." Kevin quickly sat down and began to rub his foot. "Estragon: Because my toe hurts!"

"Thank-you Kevin, that's enough," O'Neill said hastily.

"Are you sure? There's a lot more play left."

"No, no, I think we've all seen your range as an actor."

"About as far as I can throw him," Jane muttered.

"Did I get a part?" Kevin asked.

"Well, it's a little early in the casting process, I'll let you know, but hehe, don't get your hopes up, there are a lot of other contenders."

"Cool, Coach wouldn't let me be in the play anyway, he says I've got to keep practicing," Kevin left the stage.

"Ok then, who'd like to go next?" O'Neill asked. Another student raised a hand. "Great, get up there and show us what you've got."

One by one the students all got up on the stage and did little segments from various plays with varying degrees of skill. Eventually no one was left except for Quinn.

"So, has everyone tried out that wants to?" O'Neill asked.

"Not quite Mr. O'Neill, there's one left!" Jane called out.

"Who said that? Oh, Jane, are you trying out?"

Jane shook her head, "Not me, but Quinn said she was going to."

"I don't know what possessed me to sit next to you," Quinn hissed.

"Hey, I'm just giving you the kick in the ass you so richly need."

"Quinn, this is wonderful, why don't you show us your acting chops," O'Neill said happily.

Quinn made her way up to the stage. She scanned the crowd and breathed a deep sigh of relief when she realized she didn't recognize most of the faces she saw. "And besides," she thought, "all the people I do recognize are losers, and who cares about them?"

"So, what will you be performing for us today?" O'Neill asked.

"I'm going to be doing a passage from 'Antony and Cleopatra,' Act IV Scene 15," Quinn said confidently. She looked down at the piece of paper she was holding and took a deep breath to compose herself.

"No more but even a woman, and commanded by such poor passion as the maid that milks and does the meanest chores," Quinn began dramatically as she launched into her recitation. "It were for me to throw my scepter at the injurious gods;" She started pacing around the stage, gesticulating wildly. "To tell them that this world did equal theirs till they had stolen our jewel. But all's naught; patience is scotted and impatience does become a dog that's made: Then it is sin to rush into the secret house of death before death dare come to us?" Quinn laid an arm across her forehead in mock pain.

"Oh brother," Jane muttered as she watched Quinn chew scenery on the bare stage.

Quinn continued her performance, "How dare you woman? What, what! Good cheer! Why how now Charmian! My noble girls, ah women, women look our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sire take heart we'll bury him and then, what's brave, what's noble let's do it after the high Roman fashion and make death proud to take us. Come away: this case of that huge spirit now is cold: ah woman! Woman! Come, we have no friend but resolution and the briefest end." Quinn concluded the soliloquy solemnly.

Jane did her best to keep from laughing as the rest of the group digested Quinn's over the top performance. Soon O'Neill began to clap, "Quinn, that was very good. I'm sure we can find a part of two for you after that strong performance."

Quinn looked aghast at hearing this, "Me, have a part in a school play? Do I have to? I mean I'm like so busy with all my other activities."

"Then why did you try out for the play if you didn't intend to take part?"

Quinn looked around and realized she was stuck. "I suppose I can fit in the play too," she muttered, head hung dejectedly.

"Excellent, now then I'll have the cast listings posted tomorrow and we'll have a read through of the play after school. At that time I'll hand out the rehearsal schedule and we can start talking about who gets what role. Thank-you for coming everyone; let's give ourselves a big round of applause." O'Neill was the only one to applaud. "Eh, hehe, well now, if all the people interested in the technical side of the production would mind staying a few more minutes I'd like to have a few words with you. Everyone else can go with my thanks."

"Great," Jane muttered, "I'm glad to know my afternoon won't be a total waste." People began to file out of the auditorium until at last the only people left were Jane, O'Neill, the trio Jane had been watching and another girl.

O'Neill looked around and cleared his throat nervously, "Ah well, it looks like a gathering of the usual suspects. Why don't you boys sit down here so we can start talking about how we're going to stage this play. You too Ann." He called out to the other girl.

Jane cleared her throat, "Ah Mr. O'Neill, I'd like to sign on for this suicide mission."

"Jane, that's wonderful," O'Neill gushed. "So you'd like to paint a mural for us?"

"No!' Jane said sharply.

"Oh," O'Neill said, crestfallen. "Well I'm sure we can find something for you to do, right Mike?" He asked a red haired youth.

"Yeah, sure we always can use another person to aim spots at," the boy said sullenly. He glared at Jane for good measure.

"Great," Jane thought, "I can be the outsider in a group of outsiders. Boy you sure have the best plans Jane."

"Don't let Mike get to you, he can be a little protective of his turf, but he's a good guy underneath," A voice said from beside her.

Jane jerked her head around and saw that the girl O'Neill called Ann had sat down beside her. "Well sure, who doesn't love a standoffish, territorial asshole, I know they're my favorite people."

"Me too, Mike and I are going out." Ann said.

Jane's face reddened a little "Oh jeez, I didn't mean, er, if I had known...uh, I'm sorry?" She finished lamely.

"Are you sorry for insulting my boyfriend, or sorry that he is my boyfriend?"

Jane slouched down in her seat. "Would you like me to kill myself now, or dig my grave a little deeper?"

"I think you should stop while you're ahead." The girl held out a hand, "Hi I'm Ann Raeder. I'm in charge of the costumes, props, makeup, and general 'talent' wrangling."

Jane shook Ann's hand, "Jane Lane at your service, former artiste supreme, currently on the lookout for a new hobby."

"What are you interested in doing?" Ann asked.

"I dunno, what does he do?" Jane pointed to the tall member of the group.

"Ryan? He builds the sets and helps out with the lights, why do you ask?"

Jane shrugged, "He seems like a nice enough fellow."

"You mean you think he's cute."

"That too," Jane said with a smirk.

"May I suggest you talk to him before making any decisions."

"Why?" Jane asked guardedly, "Is he a flaming ass or something?"

"No, nothing quite like that," Ann said cautiously. "Ryan is just Ryan and that's not something everyone can handle."

"Oh pish, I've yet to meet anyone who's too much for me to handle," Jane said confidently.

"Yeah, sure, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Besides, it's not like I'm looking for someone to go out with anyway. I'm here to help put on a play, not to meet guys."

"But it doesn't hurt to look right?"

"Damn straight," Jane said agreeably.

They lapsed into silence as Ann focused on the discussion between O'Neill and Ann's boyfriend, Mike. Jane took the opportunity to size up Ann. She had almost classic Teutonic features, pale skin, blond hair, and blue eyes. It was hard to gauge her height since she was sitting, but Jane guessed she was a little taller than the other girl was. Ann's clothes did not scream rich, but they also did not bespeak of crushing poverty either.

"Must be a junior," Jane mused, "I don't remember seeing her in any classes." She paused, "Though that's not saying much." She realized O'Neill and Mike had stopped talking and that the teacher was now addressing the rest of the group.

"...I know we've got a lot of work to do, but I'm confident that we can pull it off." He stopped, "I almost forgot, there is going to be another student working on sound for the production."

"What?" Mike exclaimed, "That's Greg's job."

"And I'm sure Greg can use a hand in running the soundboard."

"Who is it?" The student named Greg asked.

"Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten his name, but he did seem quite qualified to help us out. At any rate he'll be with us at rehearsal tomorrow. Which is a nice way to segue into my next announcement. Our first read through of the play will be tomorrow. I'll expect all of you to be here as well so you can begin familiarizing yourselves with the play."

"Are we going to be getting scripts this time?" Mike asked.

"Well, no, probably not. There are an awful lot of parts, and the budget can only stretch so far. But on the brighter side, our request for new lights was approved."

"It was?" The group asked collectively.

"Yes, on the condition that we produce audio and video copies of the performance to sell as a way to recoup some of the expenses for the lighting equipment."

"Whose brilliant idea was that?" Greg asked.

"Ms. Li's so there's nothing we can do about it. I think it's exciting, the Lawndale High Theater starring it its very own movie."

"That nobody will buy," Jane muttered.

O'Neill looked down at his watch, "Oh dear, I have to go. I'm late for...err...an appointment and I don't want to upset Janet...er, the person I'm meeting." O'Neill gathered up his briefcase and scurried out of the auditorium.

"Don't forget the safety word!" Ryan, the tall crewmember, called out to the departing teacher.

The door slammed shut and Jane looked around. "Hey, well, I'm Jane Lane and I just can't wait to get started on this," she said with mock cheerfulness.

Mike looked at her for a long moment then sighed, "What the hell, welcome to the theatah!" He said dramatically and swept his arms open to encompass the space. "I'm Mike Grissom, I suppose I'm the head tech. That meansI get to design the lights and the sets, plus I run the light board during the performance. The 'twins' over there," Mike pointed to the other two disparately sized techs, "are Greg Enfield and Ryan Traczewski. Greg does a lot of the work up on the catwalk and runs the soundboard. Ryan builds the sets and helps out with whatever. I take it you've already met the lovely and talented Ann?" Jane nodded. "Great, do you have time for a quick tour of your new home?"

Jane shrugged, "If I had anywhere better to go, I'd already be there."

Ryan chuckled, Mike looked a little put out, "Ok, we'll start from the top and work our way down, come on up on stage." He motioned for Jane to follow him onto the stage. "This is the stage, obviously. Here's where the 'magic' takes place," the disdain in his voice was evident. "Stage right, left, and center. The big wall back there is called the cyc." He waved his arm in various directions, indicating these landmarks. "Ok, let's go backstage." He led Jane off to one side of the stage. "Backstage, exciting huh?"

Jane looked around at the jumble of equipment and set pieces strewn about. "I'm thrilled to death," she replied.

Mike smiled slightly, "You might just have the proper attitude for this job after all."
"Thanks...I think."

"Let's go check out the fun part of the theater, the catwalk." Mike walked over to a ladder with a cage surrounding its base. He turned the door's combination lock before opening the door. "I hope you're not afraid of heights."

Jane regarded the ladder coolly, "I've painted frescos on higher ceilings, lead on."

He shrugged, "Ok then, I guess I don't have to warn you not to look down." He scampered up the ladder.

Jane took a deep breath and followed Mike up. Climbing the ladder did not prove to be challenging, but transferring from the ladder to the catwalk did provide a brief moment of concern. She managed the transition without falling to her death and found herself standing on a dimly lit catwalk.

"Glad you could join us," Mike said sardonically.

"Oh shove it," Jane replied curtly.

"Well that sure is a pithy comeback."

"It's the altitude. It does strange things to my head."

"Right, anyway, this is the catwalk, we set up the lights that illuminate the stage here. We're standing on the Number one bar, there are also bars three and five further back to get different angles for lighting."

"What happened to two and four?" Jane asked.

"We don't talk about two and four," Mike said plainly.

"Oookay."

Mike shrugged, "That's how they were named when we got here, and nobody felt like changing it."

Jane figured it wasn't worth the bother to think about it, "I can accept that."

"Hey Mike!" Ann called out from below.

"Yeah?" Mike asked, looking down at the stage.

"I need to get going and you promised me a ride."

"Damn, right, one second." He hurried past Jane on his way to the ladder. "Looks like I have to go, want to continue this tomorrow?"

Jane shrugged, "Why not?"

"Great, see you tomorrow then." He started down the ladder then stopped, "Oh, and welcome aboard." Mike disappeared down the ladder.

Jane waited until she heard Mike reach the floor before making her own, much slower, descent. She found Ryan sitting on the edge of the stage.

"Hey," he said, standing up.

"Hey," Jane replied.

"How was your tour?"

"Abbreviated."

He nodded, "That's probably for the best, Mike likes to throw a lot o f stuff at the newbies to scare them off. The trick is not to get to worried about the terminology and just do what you're told, the rest comes in time."

"Thanks for the tip."

Ryan smiled, "No problem. Hey, do you need a ride home?"

"Uh, I don't...oh what the hell, why not? You're not a mass murderer or anything are you?"

"No, I left the axe at home."

"And you're not going to break up with me and start going out with my back-stabbing best friend are you?"

"Whoa, when did we start going out?"

"Oh damn, I said that out loud didn't I?"

"Care to talk about it?"

Jane shook her head, "Not with you, not right now at least."

Ryan nodded, "Uh, ok, still want that ride? No strings attached."

Jane sighed, "Yeah sure, beats the alternative."

"Great, let me just lock the theater up and we can go."

Jane waited outside the theater patiently as Ryan ran a heavy chain through the door handles of the theater's main doors. He secured the chain with a large Master lock.

"You've actually got a key to the theater?" Jane asked when Ryan was finished.

"Yeah, that and ones for the main doors and the security system."

"Wow, how'd you get so lucky?"

"Li likes to rent the theater out to whoever's got the cash, and we all got keys so we can run the theater during those productions."

"Get any kickbacks?"

"About ten bucks an hour."

"Cool, sounds like a profitable racket."

"It is, though I do have to sit through the shows in order to get the cash."

"They're that bad?"

"Ass lousy doesn't even begin to describe them," Ryan said as they walked down the hall.

"Ouch, still a key to the security system has to be pretty cool."

"Oh, it is, and the best part is there's no way of knowing who's deactivated the system."

"Now that opens the door for all sorts of fun scenarios," Jane said thoughtfully.

Ryan chuckled, "Trust me, we've done most of them. Though you didn't hear me say that," he hastily added.

"Hear what?" Jane said blandly.

"You're a pretty cool person Jane. I think you'll fit in just fine with the rest of us theater wonks. Here, let me get that door for you." Ryan pushed open the door.

"Why thank-you, though I hope you don't think that acts of outmoded chivalry will impress me."

Ryan shrugged, "It never hurts to be a little gallant from time to time."

"You will notice I did thank you."

"And you're very much welcome for those thanks," he replied lightly.

"Hey, why did Ann warn me about you?"

He laughed, "She did? What did she say?"

"That you're a person not everyone can handle."

He chuckled, "She's too kind. What did you make of that comment?"

Jane stared at him evenly, "That I'm not most everyone."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Ryan looked away. "Uh, my car's over there," he said lamely, pointing to a nondescript blue sedan. Ryan let Jane into the car and they drove off in silence.

"While I'm sure driving around aimlessly does have it merits, mind telling me where I'm going?" Ryan asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Oh, yeah, that would be a good idea wouldn't it?" Jane started to give Ryan directions to her home.

"So, uh, Ryan, tell me a little about yourself."

"Let's see, well, for starters I'm a senior like you."

"Really, we must have different schedules then."

Ryan shook his head, "I'm afraid not, we're in a lot of the same classes."
"Then why didn't I recognize you?"

"Just how often do you look behind you in class?" he asked dryly.

Jane frowned, "Yeah, I guess me paying attention in class would be required, so I take it you recognized me."

"Just as a pretty face I like to look at in class."

"Gee, my own personal stalker."

Ryan shrugged, "You know how it goes when you're bored, you start checking out all the girls."

"You can't win for trying, do you know that?" Jane said chuckling.

Ryan smiled, "Story of my life, but you are pretty."

"Who am I to turn down a compliment. Ok, so you're a horny little toad with a keen eye and sophisticated tastes, what else?"

As Ryan began describing his family Jane took the opportunity to check out the teen up close. He was tall, easily over six feet. His brown hair was roughly as long as Jane's and was currently held in place with a reversed baseball cap. A pair of cheery, blue eyes looked out from his open, friendly face. He obviously did not maintain the most rigorous exercise regimen, but he was not overweight by any means. He wore a simple pair of blue jeans, t-shirt, and an unbuttoned over shirt. Everything about him, from his car to his clothes spoke of a solid middle-class background.

"...So that's basically the Traczewski family. Me, my dad the data base administrator, and my mom, the city worker." Ryan said, concluding his family history.

"Wow, aren't you a child of privilege."

Ryan shrugged, "Nothing fancy, just the descendent of hard-working Polish immigrants, with a little Irish thrown in for good measure. What about you? I know you style yourself an outsider and are friends with that dour chick, but other than that there are some blanks in my knowledge."

"What can I say, four other Lane children have passed through Lawndale High's hallowed halls before me. My parents are rarely home and I live with my brother. We somehow manage to scrape by and live every teen's dream of a life free of parental interference--at least overt interference."

"Damn, that's got me beat by a mile."

"Don't feel bad, you came up against a Master. When it comes to dysfunctional family arrangements only the Brady Bunch has the Lanes beat."

"They were pretty freaky weren't they?"

"And yet we could never look away."

"Very much like a train wreck," Ryan agreed.

"My house is the next one on the right," Jane said suddenly.

"Ok then, boy that sure is your house isn't it?" Ryan commented as he pulled the car into the driveway and turned the engine off.

"I'll just take that as a compliment and move on," Jane said dryly.

"Go for it."

"Well, thanks for the ride," Jane said as she got out of the car.

"Here, let me walk you to the door," Ryan said quickly as he exited the vehicle.

"I really don't think that's necessary it's not even twenty feet," Jane protested.

"But who knows what might happen in those intervening twenty feet, a meteor might hit you on the head, or something."

"Oh really, and just how are you going to save me from a falling chunk of the cosmos?" Jane asked, arms folded across her chest and a bemused smirk on her face.

"I'd push you out of the way at the last second," he replied confidently.
Jane sighed, "Fine, you can walk me to the door, but you aren't coming inside, I'm not that kind of girl."

"I wasn't implying that you are. Nor was I trying to get an invitation into you house. I just want to fulfil my chivalric duties and see you to your door, it's the gallant thing to do."

"Do you really think this is going to impress me?"

He shrugged, "It can't hurt can it?"

Jane shook her head, "I guess not. Come on, you can aid me on the trek across the vast distance to my door," she said sardonically.

"Excellent, shall we be off then?"

"No, I want to stand out here all night," Jane said as she started walking to her house.

"You've got a lot of pent up hostility don't you," Ryan commented as he fell into step with Jane.

She shrugged, "So the guidance counselor told me in sixth grade."

"What did you do in the sixth grade?"

"I called my art teacher a Philistine for not giving me an A on a project."

Ryan laughed, "Why am I not surprised."

"I don't think Mrs. Dawkins knew what a Philistine was."

"Did you?"

"Not really, I remembered my parents calling someone that, it seemed like a good thing to say at the time."

"So, what possessed you to sign on with the theater crew?"

"It's kind of a long story..." Jane began.

"Then why don't you tell it to me, say over dinner?" Ryan asked hopefully.

Jane chuckled, "Are you asking me out?"

"Maybe I am, what's it to you?"

"Well I'd like to, believe me I would."

"I sense a but coming on," Ryan said sourly.

"...but, now's not the best time for me."

"Let me guess, this has something to do with the back stabbing best-friend?"

Jane sighed, "Yeah, something like that, but that's another long story."

"Care to tell me that one tonight, not as a date or anything, just as a friend?" Ryan asked, one eyebrow quirked in an inviting fashion.

Jane was about to answer Ryan when she saw a familiar car pull up in front of her house, "Uhm, can I take a rain check on that, I've got company."

Ryan looked over and saw Daria and Tom walking up, "Let me guess, the back stabbing best friend, and the cause of the back stabbing."

"Something like that, yeah. But she still is my best friend so I would like to talk to her."

Ryan nodded, "Ok, you can tell me all about it tomorrow at rehearsal."

"Sure thing, I love talking about my personal life with virtual strangers."

Ryan chuckled, "While I might be a little strange I hope I'm not a stranger for much
longer." He reached over and gave Jane a quick hug.

"Hey, watch the hands buster!" Jane snapped.

"Don't worry, I'm just a hugging person, nothing was meant by it. Unless you want it to of
course," he said, leering playfully. "See you tomorrow Jane," Ryan waved to Jane and
walked past a surprised Daria and Tom.

"Uh, hi guys," Jane said to her friend and ex. "What brings you two here?"

-------------------------------------

Earlier that afternoon while Jane was sitting through bad high school acting, Tom and Daria
were sitting through bad television.

"You know this show really has fallen on hard times. You'd think an expose on green-eyed
man goats would be more interesting," Tom said dryly.

"Mmm," Daria replied.

Tom looked over at Daria and saw she was staring at apoint above the television, "But the
piece on girlfriends who stare at inanimate objects to avoid talking to their boyfriends was
quite good."

"I wasn't avoiding you, I was just thinking."

"Really, penny for your thoughts."

"Come on, you can afford to pay much more than that."

"Ok, a buck fifty, but that's my final offer."

"Cheap skate."

"The Sloanes didn't get rich by throwing money around," Tom said sagely. "We only pay
fair value for what we buy."

"And my thoughts are only worth a buck fifty?"

"Actually, it's all I have in my pocket right now."

Daria shrugged, "Good enough, pay up."

"You're serious."

"Hey, you offered, who am I to refuse such a generous offer?"

"You're far too mercenary for you own good, you know that right?" Tom grumbled as he
handed Daria the loose change from his pocket.

"I blame my parents, society, and the Internet," Daria said as she took the money from
Tom. "I'm really worried about Jane."

"Why, you did try to talk to her, right?"

"Oh we talked, she quite happily explained to me why she's giving up art."

"She what?"

"That was my reaction too."

"But why?"

"She says she's lost the fire or something like that. Her logic seemed shaky at best to me."

"What is she going to do now?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but I have my suspicions."

"Want to go by her house and see how she's doing?"

"Uh sure," Daria said hesitantly, "that's not quite what I expected you to say."

"What you thought I was going to say that Jane has to live her own life through her own choices and whatever we say doesn't matter?"

"Something like that yeah."

Tom shrugged, "This just sounds so off for her, something must be up, and chances are good that whatever is bothering her will spill over to you and then I'll affect me so I figured we take care of the problem now, before it spreads."

Daria smirked, "Your logic is as impeccable as always Mr. Sloane."

"Why thank you for thinking so Ms. Morgendorffer."

"When do you want to leave?"

Daria thought for a moment, "How about when the marathon is over, no sense in bugging Jane while that's on."

Tom arched an eyebrow, "So you're worried about Jane's well being, but not enough to keep
you from watching Sick Sad World?"

"It's kind of like this. I offered to go and do something with Jane tonight, before I knew
you were free and she basically blew me off."

"And you don't want to stick your head back into the proverbial lion's mouth?" Tom
finished for Daria.

"Exactly."

"And you're not thrilled with the prospect of me and Jane under one roof."

"That too."

"And you're perfectly content here with me, and you don't want to wreck the mood."

"Quit while you're ahead Sloane."

"Come on Daria, admit it, you like this 'quality time.' There's no shame in saying so." He wrapped an arm around Daria's shoulders.

Daria stiffened, then relaxed against Tom, "Why the hell do you always have to be so damn
right?" She growled.

Tom chuckled, "You show affection in the strangest ways."

"At least I don't have pleasure mixed up with pain."

"You don't? Damn, there goes that fantasy."

Daria punched Tom on the arm, "Twit, watch the TV."

Several hours later Daria and Tom were driving up to Jane's house.

"We should have come sooner," Tom said.

"Who could've known that special on the Spanish Inquisition was going to air?"

"I for one wasn't expecting it, but then again..."

"Don't say it Python Boy," Daria threatened.

"All right, all right...say, whose car is that?" Tom asked, seeing Ryan's car in the driveway.

"Forget the car, who's that?" Daria asked, pointing at Ryan.

"The owner of the car I'd say."

"You think?" Daria asked sarcastically. "That much I figured out, I want to know who he
is."

"I don't know, we go to different schools remember."

"Oh yeah."

"Should we go introduce ourselves?"

"I don't...crap, Jane saw us, I guess we don't have a choice any more."

"I still could floor it," Tom said helpfully.

"No, that wouldn't be mature."

"What's the fun in being mature? I'm sure there's a show on the peasant revolutions in
Renaissance Germany on right now."

"Tom out of the car."

Tom sighed and killed the ignition. "Yes ma'am."

They got out of Tom's car and walked to the front door. Daria's eyes widened when she
saw Ryan hug Jane.

"Looks to me like Jane's doing pretty well for herself," Tom quipped. Daria couldn't form a
comment. They watched in silence as Jane and Ryan said their good-byes. Ryan walked
past them and neither he nor they said hello. When Ryan was past them Daria nudged Tom
in the ribs and they continued walking towards Jane.

"So you have no clue who that was?" Tom whispered to Daria.

"No clue, he might be in one of my classes though."

"You think?"

Daria shot Tom a disapproving glare, but Jane's greeting cut off any further comment.

"Uh hi guys, what's up?"

"We were in the neighborhood and just decided to drop by," Tom answered.

"Right, Daria, why are you and lover boy really here?"

"Because we're worried about you Jane, you've been acting weird the past couple days and
I--we, want to know if there's anything we can do to help."

"Truthfully Daria, I'm fine. I appreciate your concern, but you don't have to worry."

"Then who was that guy?"

"Oh, that was Ryan, he gave me a ride home, that's all."

"He sure was here a long time, school's been out for hours," Daria said dryly.

"Nah, Ryan and I just got here as well."

Daria arched an eyebrow, "Really, that's quite a few missing hours there, what's the
mystery?"

Jane shrugged, "No mystery, I stayed after the play tryouts to get a tour of the theater,
there's nothing going on between--oh crap," Jane exclaimed suddenly when she realized
what she had just said.

Daria smirked, "I thought so."

"You volunteered for a school play?" Tom asked.

"Yes I did, and I'm getting extra credit in English to do so. Got a problem with that?"

"No, not at all, just surprised that's all. I didn't think you were much for joining things."

"Neither did I," Daria added, "And Mr. O'Neill's made the same extra credit offer every year
and you've never taken the bait before."

Jane sighed, "If you must know I'm doing the theater thing because otherwise I'd be bored
beyond belief. I mean you two are spending more time together, and that's perfectly fine. I
don't want to be an extraneous wheel, that would just be too weird."

"An excellent point," Tom added hastily, Daria frowned.

"And since I decided to give up art I had to do something to pass the time, and going on a
crime spree seemed like a bad idea. So I figured why not give the theater thing a try."

"And it's purely a coincidence that a cute guy is involved," Daria said. This time it was
Tom's turn to frown.

"He wasn't that good looking," he groused.

"Uh-oh Daria, you've gone and made Tom jealous," Jane said, smirking.

"Hey don't try to change the subject, we're talking about you here," Tom protested.

"He's right, you're ducking the question. I'll address Tom's issue later."

"All right, no I didn't volunteer to be a tech just because Ryan is on the crew, the extra credit
really was a big incentive for me," she paused, "Ryan is just a bonus."

"So this isn't some cry for help?"

Jane shook her head, "Nah, I'm just trying to find my way."

"You do know the theater's considered one of the arts," Tom commented.

"Yeah, so?" Jane shrugged, "I'm not painting, sculpting, throwing pots, or any of that other
crap I used to do. I'm not acting in the play, I'm just helping put it together."

"If you insist."

"Hey, it's not like I'm trying out for the cheerleading squad again. This is the theater, is
there anything more outsider I could have joined?"

"I suppose not," Daria admitted.

"Look Daria, I appreciate your concern, but I'm ok. I'm just trying out something new
right now that's all. You can chalk it up to my 'impulsive nature' if it makes you feel any
better."

"You're really ok?" Daria asked.

"I'm fine," Jane said emphatically.

"I hate to break up this love fest, but I have to get home in time for dinner. Daria, do you
want a ride home?" Tom asked.

"Uh," Daria said hesitantly, looking at Jane.

"It's ok Daria, you can go."

"You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!" Jane shouted. "I'm glad you came by Daria, but I'm not some invalid
who needs to be hovered over."

"All right," Daria hesitated, "Talk to you tomorrow then?"

"But of course, see you later Daria."

"Bye Jane," Daria walked to Tom's car.

Tom turned to leave but Jane caught him by the arm, "Hey Tom."

"Yeah?"

" ;Does she really mean that much to you?"

"What?"

"Daria, do you really care that much for her? There's no way you'd be standing there if it
wasn't because of her."

Tom shuffled his feet, "I'd like to think you and I have reached some level of friendship since our breakup."

"That's crap, how many of you ex-girlfriends have you actively sought out to inquire about
their well being?"

"Well, er, you're the first, but keep in mind there aren't nearly as many as people think."

"And would you be here if it wasn't for Daria?"

"Would any of us?"

"That's a wonderfully vague way of evading the question."

Tom shook his head, "No, it's a valid question. Would either of us be at this place if Daria
wasn't around?"

Jane shrugged, "I don't know...but I'm not blaming for her for anything. And I'm not
wishing she wasn't here."

"I agree."

"So, to repeat my question, does she really mean so much to you that you'd visit your ex-
girlfriend at her insistence?"

Tom thought for a moment, "Well, I'm here aren't I? So I guess she does."

Jane nodded, "That's cool. Don't screw this one up Sloane."

"Or what, you'll come take me out?"

"It's not me you should be worried about, it's her," Jane nodded in Daria's direction.

"True, I'll have to remember that. Well, I do have to go, bye Jane."

"Bye Tom," Jane watched Tom and Daria get into Tom's car then drive off. She let herself into the house and started scrounging for dinner.

"What was that all about?" Daria asked Tom as they drove to the Morgendorffer residence.

"Oh nothing, just clearing the air over a few old issues, it wasn't anything really earth shattering," Tom replied nonchalantly. "So, are you satisfied that Jane's ok?"

Daria shook her head, "Not entirely, but I appreciate where she's coming from so I'm not as concerned." She shrugged, "Jane will go to a couple rehearsals, see how stupid the whole affair is and quit, or not, like she said, it is her life."

"She never said that."

"It was implied."

"Ahh...so, what do you want to do tomorrow?" Tom asked, trying to shift the conversation.
Daria sense Tom's desire to not talk about Jane and let the conversation drift to other matters. They managed to avoid mentioning Jane for the rest of the ride.

---------------------------------------

Quinn looked up from her book and sighed, "No, 'Under Milkwood' by Dylan Thomas."

Daria arched an eyebrow in surprise, "Thomas huh, what's the reason?"

"Do I have to have a reason to read great literature?"

"Quinn your idea of great literature has always been the annual mascara edition of 'Waif.'
I'm not buying it."

Quinn sighed, "All right, I'm reading it for Mr. O'Neill's class."

"See now if you'd just said...wait a minute, that wasn't on our reading list last year."

"He, uh, added it this year?"

"I don't think so, not with that school's budget."

"Ok, I'm reading it for extra credit. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

Daria shrugged," I suppose so...hold on, isn't that the play they're doing?"

"So?"

"And didn't O'Neill offer extra credit to anyone who tried out for a part?"

"I guess, I wasn't exactly paying attention," Quinn said nervously.

"Uh-huh, let me just throw out a random guess here, let me know how close to the mark I
get. I think you heard about the O'Neill's offer for the extra credit and so you auditioned,
only you ended up with a part, despite your best efforts to the contrary. Am I on the right
track here?"

Quinn hung her head, "That pretty much sums it up. He didn't even let me turn down his
offer."

"How awful for you. You tried to abuse the system and got caught."

"Daria, this is serious, promise you won't tell anyone?"

"That would require me to talk right? Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"Thank-you, this is the sort of thing that could ruin me. Having the starring role in the
school play, what was I thinking?"

"Quinn, how much of that play have you read?"

"I haven't gotten past the introduction, why?"

"The sub-title is 'A Play for Voice.' There are over thirty parts and none of them could be
considered a starring role."

"How do you know, have you read the play?"

"No, but I did read a biography of Thomas that described the play. Sorry Quinn, you're in
an ensemble piece."

"I'm sure you find this all very amusing," Quinn groused.

"No more than anything else in life," Daria replied. "If Mom or Dad are looking for me I'll
be in my room. Good luck with the Welsh." Daria walked off before Quinn could reply.

--------------------------------------

The rest of the day passed without incident and Jane soon found herself back in the theater; this time watching O'Neill and the cast read through the play.

"Are they going to get better?" She asked Ryan who was sitting next to her.

"Probably not. Let's go check out the booth," he stood up.

"Is that your come on line to all the girls?"

"Only the ones I really want to nail," he replied.

"Ok, I won't respond to that blatant display of testosterone."

Ryan chuckled, "You've taken too many classes with Barch."

"And I've taken her self-defense class, so you'd better be on your best behavior."

"Say no more, you have nothing to worry about from me. I happen to have quite a fondness for my little friends."

"Little huh?" Jane said, quirking an eyebrow.

"I meant in relation to the rest of me, besides what do you care? I thought the time wasn't
right for you, or something."

"You know what they say, time heals all."

"And has it?" Ryan asked hopefully as he stepped into Jane's personal space.

"Possibly," Jane replied coyly.

"Hey Ryan, stop hitting on the new girl and get your ass over here!" Mike said sharply
from the back of the auditorium.

Jane and Ryan looked at each other for another long moment before chuckling nervously.

"The theater waits for no one I guess," Ryan said lamely. "The booth's this way," he led Jane to the back of the theater, coming to a stop in front of a recessed door.

"Ok, are you really sure you want to do this? Once you pass through this door your life will be irrevocably changed."

"Enough with the ominous crap, open the damn door. I'm already a pretty twisted cruller."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Ryan said as he opened the door and walked into the room.

Jane followed, and was met by a wall. To her left she saw a short flight of stairs. She
ascended the stairs and looked around the room. "Well, it's obvious O'Neill doesn't come up
here too often," she commented dryly. "Are those condoms?" She asked, pointing at a
group of distinctly shaped objects pinned to a makeshift alter.

"Welcome to the inner sanctum," Mike said grandly. "Yes, those are condoms, they're
offerings to Leroy, god of the light booth."

"You see one night Ann and the three of us were working late on the lights and we had taken adinner break," Ryan began to explain.

"All of a sudden we saw this large black guy in the back of the auditorium." Mike said,
jumping in. "Ann asked him what his name was and the guy said 'Leroy.' Greg offered
him some pizza, which he refused. All of a sudden Leroy was gone, and when we went
over to where he had been standing we found a fluorescent yellow condom."

"Creepy," Jane commented, unconvinced.

"We later decided that we had been visited by the god of the light booth, Leroy, who
dispenses fluorescent yellow condoms to the faithful and smites the unbelievers with badly focused spots."

"We burn some incense and offer Leroy a new condom before every show to appease him,"
Greg added.

"It also makes a great stress reliever," Ryan whispered into Jane's ear.

"Ok, well, that's pretty strange, but whatever gets you through a show I guess," Jane said
dubiously.

"Exactly, you're catching on. Now, this is the booth," Mike said, "You're in the nerve center
of the play. From here we run the lights and the sound for the show. The light board is on
the left, the sound board in on the right," Mike pointed to two tables in front of the room's
dual windows, "In between is the dimmer panel. It's like the fuse box for all the lights in
the theater. Behind the door over there is what we like to call the Tiki Room. It's where we
store stuff and just sort of relax."

"Uh-huh," Jane said non-committally as she took in the booth. Strings of Christmas lights
hung from the ceiling and the walls. A large bean bag chair lay in one corner of the room.
The walls were covered with posters from previous productions as well as other, weirder
pictures. Jane shrugged, "So what, did you expect me to run screaming from the room
never to bother your littler world again?"

"That was never my intention," Ryan said hastily.

"I was talking to your fearless leader over there," Jane nodded at Mike. "You're trying to
get in my pants, metaphorically speaking I hope, so I figured you wouldn't be trying to drive
me away."

"I just wanted to let you know what you're in for by working here. Long hours, no pay, no
respect, you have to watch a bunch of half wits try to act for a couple of months, and then
there's the stress of the actual performance. If you think you can handle all that by all
means stay. If not I'm sure Ann could use a hand with makeup."

"Look, I've submitted more pieces art for competition than I can remember, I know all about
stress, and do you know what? It's not a big deal to me because I know in the end it's just
not the end of the world regardless of the outcome." Jane said angrily, holding her ground.

"Jane, I'd love for you to stay, we always can use more hands helping out. I'm just trying to
let you know what you've gotten yourself into."

"Besides we can always use her to focus lights on," Greg added. Ryan shot Greg a dirty
look.

"Hello, anybody home?" A new voice called out. Jane turned and saw Dave Wylie enter
the booth. He was burdened by a large blue bag slung over one shoulder, and a large spool
of cable on the other.

"Who're you?" Mike asked.

Dave carefully set his bag down and let the cables drop. He walked over to Mike with a
hand extended. "Dave Wylie, pleased to meet you. I volunteered to run sound for the play
and O'Neill told me to go here."

Mike coolly shook Dave's hand, "I'm Mike Grissom, head tech. That's Greg, he's the sound
chief, that's Ryan, set guy, and that's Jane, the newbie. You'll be working for Greg,
obviously."

"Ok then, so Greg, how are you plan ning on setting things up?"

Greg, a short individual with a shock of curly black hair, looked a little perplexed by the question. "Uh, I'm going to play the sound effects when the cues say to."

"What about the house sound? And this recording we have to make?"

"The speakers in the theater have worked well enough before. As for the tapes I guess we'll use a camcorder, I don't know, we haven't talked about it yet. Why, what were you planning?"

"I'm glad you asked," Dave said happily. "I took a quick look around the space before coming up here and the room's acoustics seem pretty good so normally I'd say mics wouldn't be necessary. But since we want to record the show I'd do this. For starters I'd hang a pair of B&K 4021's over the stage. I'd back those up with a pair of Neumann TLM-170's, probably run cardiod maybe omni, with one on either side of the stage. I'd finish it all off by running a pair of Schoeps tubes with some kind of cardiod cap from up in the lighting rig, back about oh 20 feet or so from the stage. I'll mix those signals at the board, which is also where the sound effects will be added. I'll have all the effects recorded on a DAT. The board signal will then go out to the house speakers, obviously. I've got some JBL's at home I'm not using right now so we can use them here. That's the house sound. As for the recording I'll send a digi-out from the board into my PortaDAT with a timecode module attached to handle the audio. For the visual I'll use a pro model digital camcorder. Then it's just a matter of synching the visual with the audio and you've got yourself a high quality digital tape. We could even record it on DVD. Unless you'd rather do things Greg's way," he finished with a smile.

"Ok, everyone in favor of making Dave chief sound guy raise your hand," Mike said, they all raised a hand.

"Ok, it's official. Dave, you're in charge of sound. Greg, help him."

"Cool, come on, let's go get to work running mic cable," Dave told Greg, who reluctantly
followed him out of the booth.

Jane looked at the remaining two techs. "Did any of that make sense to you two?"

Ryan shook his head, "Not a bit."

"Uh, yeah, a little," Mike said in the hesitant tones of an unpracticed liar.

"Well now what?" Jane asked.

"We sit around, there's not much to be done until they get the play al; blocked out," Ryan
said apologetically.

"That's not entirely true," Mike countered. "We can go check the lights for burned out
bulbs and start training Jane in the finer points of rigging."

"If you want to be anal about things then yes, that's what we should be doing," Ryan said,
giving Jane an "I'm sorry" look.

"Yes I want to be anal about it. I don't want any unpleasant surprises later on when we're setting things up. If that intrudes on your plans to hit on Jane I'm sorry, but the play's more important than your love life," Mike said angrily before stomping out of the booth.

Jane's eyes widened in surprise, "Jeez, what an ass. I thought you two were friends."

Ryan shrugged, "Mike's just blowing off steam. He can get a little high-strung about things. O'Neill told him the new lights won't be in for another month and he's a touch pissy about it," Ryan said as they followed Mike out of the booth.

"And since he couldn't yell at O'Neill he ripped you a new asshole, I get it. Lovely
personality trait."

"Yeah, but we love him anyway."

"Why is he the boss?"

"He's the one who sat down and read the manual to the light board, that gave him the inside
track on the job."

"Such qualifications," Jane quipped.

"Back when we first started out working on lights it was," Ryan led Jane up onto the stage.

"So, what are we doing anyway?" Jane asked.

"Checking the lights. Mike's going to lower them down here and we'll plug them in and see
if they go. If they don't we replace the bulb."

"Sounds simple enough," Jane replied.

"Oh it is, just time consuming."

"You ready down there?" Mike called out.

"Lower away," Ryan replied.

"Now maybe I'm not seeing something, but why are we doing this? Wouldn't it be easier to
just check them up there?" Jane asked as she watched a light descend from the catwalk.

"You'd think, but the power up there is all controlled from the booth, we have a test plug
setup down here, not to mention a workbench."

"All right, I can admit when I'm wrong."

"How were you supposed to know? It's a valid question. Keep asking them and you'll be
up to speed in no time," Ryan said as he caught the light. "Could you untie this rope?" He
nodded at the rope tied to the light.

"Sure thing," Jane said helpfully.

Ryan took the light over to a small workbench set in a corner of the backstage area. "Okay, this is one of our lighting instruments, more specifically a spot. I know that you've heard of spotlights, right?" Jane nodded. "This is a spotlight. It throws a lot of light onto wherever you point it. We use 'em as our primary stage illuminators." He rested a hand on the light.

"These little lever deals control the shutters inside the light which affects the shape of the beam. We can also focus the beam as needed, cool huh?"

"I'm positively beside myself," Jane replied evenly.

"It's noticeable," Ryan replied in similar fashion. "Ok, let's fire this sucker up." He plugged the light into a special socket and flipped a switch. The light blazed into full glow. Ryan turned it off. "Ok one down, a whole assload to go." He carried the light back over to the rope. "Hey Mike, got the next one set? This one's good."

"Great, I'm ready to go up here."

"Cool, hey Jane would you mind tying the rope back onto this one?"

Jane looked at the light hesitantly, "Why don't I hold it and you tie?"

Ryan shrugged, "Okay, whatever suits you. Grab hold." Jane grabbed the light by the yoke
and Ryan expertly secured the rope. "Hoist away!" he shouted.

"So how many of these are there exactly?" Jane asked.

"Oh I don't know, fifty or sixty."

"Great," Jane muttered. "Just what I needed to hear."

The rest of rehearsal passed slowly as Jane helped Ryan test out the lights. Finally though
the last spot was checked and raised back to its perch.

Ryan stretched his sore back, "There that's done. Hey you did good Jane."

"Thanks," Jane looked around the theater, "Huh, I guess we're closing the theater again."
O'Neill and the cast were nowhere to be seen.

"That's always the way," Mike said as he made his way down the ladder. "We put in the
longer hours for none of the credit."

"But you're not bitter or anything," Jane commented drolly.

"We all deal with it in different ways," Greg chimed in as he joined the growing circle of
people. "I like to moon the stage at the end of every show."

"You're kidding." He said nothing to refute the claim. Jane faced Ryan, "Please tell me he's
joking."

"I'm afraid not, every show I look over and there's Greg dropping his drawers."

"Ewww," Jane shuddered. "Uh, no offense," she hastily told Greg.

"None taken."

"Oh, I agree with Jane, there's nothing nastier than Greg's ass," Ryan said, chuckling.

"I don't know about that, I think it's kind of sexy," Mike said with an affected lisp.

"Mike, stay the hell away from Greg's ass!" Ann shouted.

Mike jumped, "Uh sorry about that sweetie," he rushed over and kissed Ann. "Are you set
to go?"

She nodded, "I am if you are."

"Great," he turned and faced the rest of the group, "Pizza King for dinner?" The group
nodded in agreement. "How about you Jane, want to come with?"

Jane looked at the clock and saw that it was well past dinnertime, "I don't know..."

"C'mon Jane, it'll be fun," Ryan said encouragingly. "And hey, there are other people
around so it won't be a date."

Jane pondered for a few additional moments before shrugging, "Only if you buy."

"Fine, thought wouldn't that be considered a date?"

"Not if other people are around," she replied impishly.

"Are you two finished? I'm starving." Mike interjected.

"Yeah we're done," Jane said.

"Hey Dave," Ryan shouted, "We're going to Pizza King, do you want it?"

Dave, who was just coming down the catwalk ladder, nodded, "Ok, cool." The group left the
auditorium and walked to their cars.

-----------------------------------------------

Two hours, and several pizzas, later Ryan dropped Jane off at her house. "Well, I hope
your first rehearsal didn't scare you off or anything."

Jane shook her head. "Nah, it was kind of fun, in a weird and twisted kind of way."

Ryan chuckled, "That it is," he paused. "And I know I had a lot of fun at dinner."

"I did too actually," Jane said.

"And I think we could have even more fun if it was just the two of us," he said hopefully.

"You never give up do you?"

He shook his head, "Not easily."

Jane sighed, "If I told you the reason why I have to say no, will you stop?"

"Depends on what the reason is."

"How about if you just ease up a little."

Ryan shrugged, "Hey I'd stop if you didn't seem like you wanted to go out with me."

"Now that's an arrogant...well I guess I do, kind of. But it's still an amazingly arrogant
statement."

"So will you?"

"No...and here's why," she added hastily when she saw him deflate. Jane then told Ryan the
whole story of herself, Daria, and Tom, including her adventures at art camp. Ryan sat back
and listened in silence. "...So that brings us up to the present. I'm ok with Daria and Tom
going out, but I'm still a little too wounded to start dating again myself, not to mention the
whole lost the will to paint thing. If all things were equal I'd go out with you, but there're
not so I can't. I hope you understand."

Ryan nodded somberly, "Yeah, I can. I can't say I'm thrilled to hear about all this, but I can
deal, maybe."

"So you're not going to get mad or storm out in a huff because I'm not willing to go out with you?"

"Naw."

"Why not?"

"You are interested in going out with me right?"

"Yeah."

"Just not right now."

"Yeah."

"Okay then, I'll just keep asking till you agree."

"Great, that's all I needed to hear."

"There's an easy way to get me to stop."

"Oh really,"

"Yeah, go out with me," Ryan grinned, pleased with his cleverness.

"I think this is where I say goodnight, sir," Jane said, trying to hide a smirk.

"All right," Ryan leaned over and hugged Jane. "Take your time, I'll still be here."

"You sure about that?"

He nodded, "Yeah, you look like you could use a friend, and I think I can do that."

"In that case maybe you can take me out to dinner tomorrow night, as a friend," she added
pointedly.

"Ok, when and where?"

"Whenever, and wherever," Jane answered playfully.

"I can handle that."

"See you tomorrow Ryan."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow Jane."

Jane got out of the car and watched Ryan drive off. She walked into her house and found
Trent sitting on the couch.

"Hey Trent."

"Hey Janey, whoa, you're home late."

"Yeah, rehearsal ran over, and then a bunch of us went out for pizza."

"Sounds like you're having a good time."

"I guess I am, for now at least."

"That's cool."

"I'm going to be in my room if you need me."

"Ok, oh, Daria called looking for you."

"How many times?"

Trent shrugged, "A couple."

"I'll call her back then. Take it easy Trent."

"Always do Jane."

"I know, just don't slip into a coma while you're at it," Jane joked. She left Trent hacking in
the living room and walked up to her room. She picked up the phone and dialed the
Morgendorffer's number.

"Hello Morgendorffer residence, all the Morgendorffers you'd want to speak to are already
on the phone if you wish to leave them a message please do so after the beep...beep."

"Hey Daria."

"Oh hi Jane, did you just get back from rehearsal?"

"Pretty much, we went out for some pizza afterwards."

"Everybody?"

&qu ot;No, just the crew."

"Getting pretty chummy with them huh?"

"Oh for Pete's sake. Daria, we're not going to go through this again are we?"

"What, me being irrationally jealous over a new person in your life? No, I've gotten over
that."

"I should hope so, you're dating him now after all."

"Please don't bring that up right now. I'm trying to be supportive. What I meant to say was
that I'm glad you don't hate your fellow thespians."

"Well, there is one guy who does sort of bug me."

"Who's that?"

"Mike, the self-appointed leader. He's a bit of an ass."

"Is that like saying Quinn's a bit self-absorbed?"

"Something like that yes."

"You could always quit."

"Wishful thinking Morgendorffer. I'm riding this thing out to the bitter end."

"Just so long as you don't regret the decision."

"Nah, I've got a feeling this will all work out quite nicely."

"You haven't eaten any more of those pickles Trent found have you?"

"Dammit Daria, could you just drop that? I offered to buy you new drapes."

"What drapes?"

"Oh, nothing, never mind, it's not important, bye Daria," Jane said hastily before hanging up
on Daria. She smirked to herself, "That's one way to end a conversation." She pulled a
textbook out of her backpack and got started on her homework.

--------------------------------------

Life proceeded to settle into a routine of sorts for Jane. During school she hung out with
Daria like always. After school she spent her afternoons in the theater, working on the play.
Her evenings were either spent at home in an attempt to keep on top of her schoolwork or
out with Ryan. The production progressed with all the attendant troubles of any technical
undertaking. One day Jane was helping Mike and Greg rig a set of lights for a specific
water effect.

"So, how are you going to do this?" Jane asked as she handed a light to Mike.

"Normally I'd just use a blue gel, but we got these little things with the new lights." He held
up a small piece of metal with a pattern cut into the middle. "This is a gobo, we install it into
the light and get a nifty wave pattern shown on the floor."

"Oh boy, isn't this a red letter day."

"You know if you don't care you don't have to say anything," Mike said curtly.

"Fine by me." She watched as Mike fumbled with the gobo. "You do know how to use that
thing right?"

"Of course he doesn't, we've never used one before and it didn't come with instructions."

"How hard can it be?" Mike asked rhetorically. "You just slap this thing in front of the
beam and..." He tried to place the gobo in the gel holder only to see it fall out. "Dammit!"

"Maybe it goes inside the light," Greg offered helpfully.

"Yeah, that's probably it." Mike and Greg quickly set about opening up the light. "You
have got to be kidding me," Mike cried out in frustration when the gobo again did not fit.

"Jane get me the tin snips. I'm going to ghetto rig this bitch."

"Aye-aye boss," Jane said with a smirk. She walked over to the other end of the catwalk.

"Hey Ryan," she called out.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have the tin snips?"

"Yeah."

"Could you put them in the bucket, Mike needs them to get those gobo things to work."

"Hang on, I'll bring them up myself. This I've got to see," Ryan dropped his hammer and
ran over to the ladder.

"Such personal service," Jane said wryly when Ryan met her at the top of the ladder.

"What can I say, seeing Mike out of his depth is a rare treat," he replied while handing Jane
the snips.

"And me without my camera," Jane quipped. She frowned when she thought about what
she had just said.

Ryan noticed the shift in Jane's mood, but didn't bring it up. "Come on, let's go enjoy the
show." They walked over to where Greg and Mike were working.

"Finally, hand me those snips," Mike snapped. He took the cutters from Jane and began
trimming the piece of metal. Ryan leaned back against the railing to watch.

"Hey Mike, how much do those things cost?" Ryan asked.

Mike sighed, "I don't know, why do you want to know?"

"I'm just curious how much money you're wasting cutting that thing up, that's all."

"Oh go back to building the set, jackass. I'm working my ass off trying to get this play off
the ground, and you're not helping. Besides," he added with a sly grin, "it's not my money
I'm wasting, so who the hell cares."

Ryan laughed, "Excellent point,snip away."

Mike finished cutting and placed the modified gobo into the light, this time it fit. "Ha, I'm
still the champion. Greg, get this light rigged, I'll get the other two gobos setup."

"I feel curiously unfulfilled," Jane commented.

"Me too, it's probably for the best thought. The more boredom in this job the better."

"I guess."

"Hey, want to help me build flats?"

"Oh, can I really?" Jane said unenthusiastically.

"It's either that or keep helping Mike with the gobos."

"Where'd that hammer go?"

Jane and Ryan worked on building flats until Mike and Greg came down from the catwalk.

"Got the water spots done yet?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, we're going to test them now," Mike answered.

"Cool, we'll come watch."

The group filed into the light booth where Dave was sitting hunched over the soundboard,
listening intently to a pair of studio monitors.

"Hey Dave," Ryan said, "What'cha doing?"

"Hmm?" Dave asked, "Oh, just listening to the mix, I'm going to swap out the Schoeps
sub-cards for the Mk4v cards, they're better suited for speech pickup anyway."

"Right," Ryan said hesitantly, "I'll just pretend that made sense and move on."

"Sorry, what I meant to say was that the mics I currently have hanging from bar five
displease me and I'm thinking about replacing them with a pair whose characteristics are
better suited to the conditions here."

"Still doesn't help."

Dave shrugged, "I tried, so what're you folks up to?"

"Mike and Greg finished the water spots so we're trying them out."

Dave nodded, "Cool." He turned in his chair to look out the window.

Mike readied himself in front of the light board. "Here we go," he dimmed the house lights
and brought up the new spotlights. "Oh hell." The front of the stage was illuminated by
three, murky indistinct puddles of blue, with no discernable pattern.

"Dude, that sucks," Dave commented.

"Tell me about it," Mike grumbled as he turned off the spots and restored the house lights.

"When O'Neill shows up for rehearsal today I guess we'll have to tell him the gobos are a
no-go."

"Hehehe, that rhymes, funny," Ryan chortled.

"Do you appreciate the fact that we're screwed?" Mike asked.

"I do, but you have to admit that was kind of funny."

"I agree with Ryan, that was pretty funny," Dave added.

"Who asked you?" Mike snapped.

"Sheesh Mike, chill out a little," Greg said. "So we have to yank the gobos out of those
spots, big deal."

As Jane watched the debate unfold she thought she felt a familiar tugging at the back of her
mind. However, when she tried to focus on it, the sensation fled. "Weird, for a moment I
thought I saw a painting there." She shook her head, "Must have been a bit of indigestion,
or a headache, or something."

"Hi guys," O'Neill said from the foot of the stairs. "How are things going?"

"We go the water spots up with the gobos installed, but it doesn't look very good," Mike
reported.

"Oh, let me see."

"All right," Mike said grudgingly and turned the spots back on.

"Why that's wonderful. It just gives you the suggestion of water, perfect!" He faced the
crew, "Good job people, keep up the great work." He walked out of the booth, leaving behind a stunned crew.

Mike banged his head on the board slowly. "This is not happening," he kept repeating to himself.

"Did that actually just happen?" Jane asked.

"I think so," Greg replied

"So we're going to keep the ass ugly lights?"

"Looks that way," Ryan said.

"Damn."

"Amen," Dave concurred.

-----------------------------------

&n bsp;

Later that afternoon Jane and Ryan were sitting in the theater taking a break. Ryan was
rubbing Jane's shoulders they were both half-watching the rehearsal on stage. Quinn was
working on a scene with two male cast members.

"And what, what, dammit, what's the line?" Quinn shouted in frustration.

"It's 'and what do we do after the drapes?' Quinn," O'Neill called out.

"Right, I knew that."

"Also, Quinn, one more time, it's not 'Laregub,' the town is pronounced, 'Yar-a-gub.' Say it
with me..."

"Fine, fine, 'Yeargh-a-gub' is that better?" Quinn said, deliberately over-pronouncing the
name. "What, do you have a problem?" Quinn snapped when one of the other cast
members sighed.

"Yeah, I do. We've been at this for weeks and you can't even remember the easiest lines."

"Hehehe, why don't we put this scene down for right now? Let's move on to a Captain Cat
scene."

Quinn stormed off the stage, her fists clenched and her face turning a bright shade of red.

"Oh, that jerk, how dare he..." she trailed off, too mad to speak.

Ann looked on sympathetically, "Hey, Quinn right?"

Quinn looked over at Ann, "Yeah, who are you?"

"I'm Ann, I'll be helping you with your costumes and I'll do your makeup before the
shows."

"Oh, say aren't you that brainiac in all my classes?"

"I've always gotten A's if that's what you mean."

"Well you don't have to pick out my costumes. As Vice President of the Fashion Club I
don't need the help of some brain."

"But do you have period-appropriate clothes?" Ann asked innocently, "It'd be a shame if
you were out there in the latest from Cashman's while everyone else was wearing period
clothes."

"Why?"

"B ecause you'd look stupid that's why."

"Oh...well I guess you can help me out with the costumes, but I get veto power over any
outfit that's not cute enough."

"Sure, fine, whatever," Ann replied.

"Quinn, are you back here?" O'Neill asked.

"Yes Mr. O'Neill, I'm over here."

"Ah good. Quinn, I'm worried. I don't want to look like I'm stifling your creative energies,
but I also expect you to at least know your lines and be able to pronounce the names
correctly."

"I know," Quinn said sheepishly. "If you want me to quit, I understand. I'm just not cut out
for the theater I guess."

"No, no it's far too late for us to recast your parts. I'm afraid we'll just have to work through
your problems."

"But how? I've tried to memorize my lines, but it doesn't help."

"Hmm," O'Neill mused, "Maybe you need a dedicated acting coach."

"Is that like a tutor?"

"Yes, very much so. Now let's see," O'Neill scanned the theater until he saw who he was
looking for. "Ah, perfect. Oh Dave!" He called out to the sound tech. Dave was hunched
over a microphone set on a corner of the stage. He was wearing a pair of headphones and
appeared to be listening intently to something. "Uh, Dave?" O' Neill asked again when he
didn't get a response.

"I'll get him Mr. O'Neill," Jane called out. She hopped up and walked up to where Dave
was crouched. "Hey Dave!" Jane shouted into the mic, causing Dave to jump up in shock.

"Hey, watch it, that's a valuable piece of equipment," Dave complained as he took the
headphones off.

"Pay attention, you freak, O'Neill wants you."

"Heh, uh thank-you Jane," O'Neill said as Jane returned to her seat. "What were you doing
that was so engrossing, Dave?"

He shrugged, "I was making sure the side pickup mics were set to the right polar patterns."

"So you were listening to a microphone and you didn't hear me?"

"I was listening to the sounds, I wasn't paying attention to them. What do you need?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to help Quinn out with her lines."

Dave frowned, "Why me, I don't know anything about acting."

"You're good with sound, I'm sure you can think of something. Oh dear, that's not right,
excuse me." O'Neill muttered to himself as he scurried off to handle the next disaster.

Dave looked over at Quinn apologetically, "Hey, I'm sorry Quinn, but I know jack about
acting. I mean if you really want me to I can try to be of some help, but I can't imagine why
you would."

"Well, maybe you can help me with something else. You do well in all your classes right?"

"Uh yeah, I get by."

"See my problem is that I don't have enough time to get all my schoolwork done and
memorize these lines. If I had somebody to help me with my homework I'd have more time
for the play."

"So you want me to do your homework for you so you can focus on the play?"

"No just tutor me, you don't have to do my work, just help me with it, like last year with my
history paper."

"If you care so much for the theater why don't you just skip the school work. It's not like
you have any great love for it after all. Something you proved all to well last year."

Quinn stared at him for a long moment before realization hit, "Oh right you weren't here
over the summer."

"No I was following Phish, what does that matter?"

"Because I decided I want to do better at school, I got a tutor and everything."

Dave shrugged, "So?"

"Doesn't that make a difference?"

Dave looked thoughtful for a moment. "No," he said simply and walked away.

"Ooooo!" Quinn huffed, and stormed off.

"Quinn I..." Ann started to say, but stopped when Quinn left the theater. She sighed and
followed Quinn. "Quinn, wait up." Ann caught up with Quinn in the hall. "Are you ok
Quinn?"

"Yes," Quinn said tremulously.

"Are you crying?"

"No, Quinn replied, sniffling a little.

"Look Quinn, don't let those guys get to you. This is your first play right?" Quinn nodded,

"Some of those people have been acting for years. I'm sure they were worse when they
started."

"Fat lot of good that does me now."

"True, do you really want someone to help you out with your lines?"
Quinn nodded, "Yeah I do."

"I guess I could give you a hand when I'm not too busy."

"How could you help me?"

"Do you know just how many plays I've seen? Don't worry I can be a lot of help to you."

"That's great, but, uhm, why are you, like, being so nice to me?"

"Mostly because I don't want to see all the work I've put into this play go down the tubes,
but also because you remind me of myself."

"I do? How?" Quinn asked, slightly panicked.

"You see the reason I'm here is because it will look good on my college applications. That's
what you're doing right?"

"Actually I'm here for the extra credit, I never thought about college applications."
Ann shrugged, "It's the same thing really, and if I can make a fellow grade obsessed person
feel a little less stress then great." She paused, "Also, I could use your advice on
something."

"My advice? But you're like the big brain."

"Mike and I are going to be celebrating our anniversary soon."

"Really? How long?"

"Oh, a year."

"Wow, I could never do that, why limit yourself?"

Ann looked momentarily confused, "Because we care about each other."

"But he always takes you out to the nicest places right?"

"Uh no, most days we just hang out."

"I just don't get that, what's the point of going out with someone if you don't get anything
out of it?"

"You've never really cared about anyone have you?"

Quinn frowned, "That's not true, there is one guy I care about."

"Then why aren't you going out with him?"

"...Because he doesn't feel the same way," Quinn said with great reluctance.

"Amazing, a boy resistant to the charms of the Mighty Quinn Morgendorffer, who is he?"

"He doesn't go to school here. Look can we not talk about it? It's embarrassing enough as
it is."

"Ok, we don't have to talk about it, but it's not a sign of weakness to have feelings for a
person."

Quinn sighed, "It's not that...what did you want advice about anyway?"

"Uh, what should I wear?"

Quinn's face brightened, "Now that's something I'd be happy to talk about."

"Great, Mike and I don't normally get all dressed up for a date, but I want this one to be
special and I know you're better than I am at choosing an outfit."

"Too true," Quinn said condescendingly. "Err, I mean, uh," she tried to catch her error.
Ann laughed, "That's ok, you've got a better sense for clothes. I can accept that. I'm the
better trumpet player I'd wager. It's all just a matter of time management. Long ago I
decided I was going get a four point GPA and be the best trumpet player in the state. If I'm
not up to date on the latest fashions so be it. Unlike you my parents aren't rich."

"Huh?"

"You don't have to worry about college tuition, your parents will just foot the bill, all you
have to do is scrape by academically and you're set."

"That's not entirely..." Quinn began to say.

"Meanwhile I've got to work my butt off to make sure I'm valedictorian so I get that
scholarship money. I've got to practice trumpet an hour a day so I can get a trumpet
scholarship. I do volunteer work in hope of getting scholarship money from them, not to
mention how well that looks on a college resume. If I'm lucky by the time I graduate I
should hopefully have enough money between the scholarship and my job so that I'm only
in debt for half my adult life instead of the whole of it."

"Uh, breathe?" Quinn offered.

"Sorry, I just get a little stressed when I think about it."

"Obviously, so uh, how do you want to work this?"

"Why don't we go to my house after rehearsal, we can get started on your lines and you can
pick apart my wardrobe."

"Sounds good to me."

"Great, I'll see you then ," Ann walked back into the theater, leaving Quinn to think about
their interchange.

-------------------------------------------- --

Jane was building a piece of the set when Ryan called out to her. "Hey Jane, could you
grab the other end of this thing?" Jane looked over at Ryan and saw him holding one end
of a bulky flat.

"Sure thing, where are we taking it?"

"Outside to be painted."

Jane paused, "You sure you don't want someone else to help you?"

"Oh come on Jane, it's just slapping paint on wood, what's the big deal?"

"It's still painting, and I don't do painting."

"You're just being silly. Look, it's either help me paint these flats, or help Mike focus spots,
which would you rather do?"

Jane sighed, "If you put it that way hand me a brush." Focusing spotlights involved Jane
staring directly at a spot, trying to decided when a circle became visible. It was not how
Jane liked to spend time.

"I knew you'd see things my way," Ryan said with a grin as he held out a brush.

"What can I say, I like to see," Jane quipped, taking the brush from Ryan.

"I'll be over there if the paint tries to attack you or anything," Ryan said cheerfully, walking
to another set piece waiting to be painted.

Jane stared at the gallon of paint sitting on the ground. "Ahh, Weatherbeater semi-gloss,
my old nemesis." She opened the can and slowly stirred the paint. "It's not big deal Jane,"
she told herself. "There's no underlying artistic statement to be made here, you're just
slapping paint on wood." She dipped the brush into the paint. "No shapes, no patterns,
definitely no pictures. Just a solid block of color, any monkey can do that. It's not art, it's
house painting." She watched the paint run off the brush back into the can. "Slapping paint
on wood, paint on wood," She repeated to herself as she took her first stroke. "There, that
wasn't so hard now was it? Just do another of those." She ran the brush over the flat again.

"What was my problem anyway?" She said aloud as she dipped the brush back in the can.
Jane kept spreading paint onto the flat for a while then stopped and surveyed her work. She
frowned, "Hmmm, something's not right here," She walked over to the pile of paint
supplies and grabbed a few more cans of paint. She dropped the paint next to the flat and
returned for some paint thinner and an assortment of brushes.

"Now let's see here," she thought. "It just needs a smidgen of red there..." She quickly
became consumed in what she was doing and lost track of time.

"Hey Jane, how's it going?" Ryan called out. "I haven't heard, well anything from over here
so I was beginning to get worried...Whoa," Ryan finished when he saw Jane's progress.

"What?" Jane asked, distracted.

"That's some job of flat painting," Ryan said bemused. "We can't use it for the play of
course, but still, it's most impressive."

"What are you talking about?" Jane took a step back and for the first time looked at what
she had done. The flat was covered in a kaleidoscopic array of colors and patterns, all
intricately woven together in such a way that they suggested a cohesive whole without
actually displaying one. Jane looked at the flat, then at her paint stained hands in
amazement.

"Let me guess," Ryan said jokingly, "it's a sailboat, no wait, a schooner."

"But, how...that's...good!" Jane spluttered.

"You don't say. Hey, I thought you had given up painting, that you had lost the ability to
since you couldn't remember why you wanted to be an artist."

"Yeah, I did."

"That looks a hell of a lot like art to me."

"Yeah, it does," Jane paused. "Pencil and paper, quick!" She snapped. Ryan ran over to his
backpack and retrieved the desired items. He handed them to Jane who immediately started
to sketch.

"How's this look?" She asked as she showed Ryan a roughly sketched portrait of himself

"Wow, you really are good."

Jane looked at the sketch, a small smile played across her face. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Want to bag this and have a celebratory dinner?" Ryan asked.
Jane nodded, "I'm down with that."

--------------------------------------------- ----

Daria was reading in her room when the phone rang. She picked it up, "Hello Morgendorffer Sanitarium, cut-rate psychiatric care since 1975."

"Hey Daria, Dave Wylie, nice side business you've got going there."

"Hello Dave, what do you need?"

Dave chuckled, "It's always right to the point with you isn't it? No chit-chat or pleasantries."

"The less I know about your affairs the less chance I'll be subpoenaed."

"I sense someone's making an editorial comment on my choice of lifestyle."

"I can't say anything else, the phone lines aren't safe."

"Ok, I can take a hint, no chit-chat. So to get down to business, I've got a question for you."

"Which is?"

"Your s