FicWad

The Silent Cynic
By Dr. T

Chapter 3 – The Party

Tori Jericho stood off to the side of the largest room where Brittany’s party was in full swing. This was her typical location for the first thirty to forty-five minutes or so of most parties that she attended. She was a cute blonde Sophomore, a popular majorette, and an intelligent, fashionable, and keen observer. Had more of her contemporaries known the word, she would have been known as the arbiter of Lawndale popularity. She was impartial; her looks, friendliness, and vivaciousness meant that she did not have to worry about her own status. She could concentrate on studying those around her.

As the school year moved towards the end of the football season and the start of the holiday season, Tori mentally went over the ‘who’s hot; who’s not’ list in her head. The year had started off with a number of surprises – Mack and Kevin’s promotion to the senior varsity team and Brittany’s becoming the head cheerleader for both jv and varsity football gave their class an outsized place in the school’s hierarchy. When that had settled out, the junior and senior status levels had stayed pretty much the same since then. Individuals went up or down a bit of course, as their health and dating status affected their current social status, but there had been no radical changes. The same had been true of both the Freshman and Sophomore classes through late September.

Then the Morgendorffers had arrived.

Tori saw her job as accurately positioning those around her in slots, even if her older brother called her ‘an OCD status geek.’ That included her pointing out what she felt were misjudgments when asked. What she personally thought about any person’s likability, looks, or anything else did not matter; what mattered was the overall judgement of their peers.

Tori did not know it, but she was going to grow up to be one of the most in-demand pollsters in the US by 2016.

Daria Morgendorffer was by nature an outsider, and Tori felt she would have been one even without her injury-induced mutism. She was also obviously a brain, but despite what some claimed (or hoped), being a brain did not disqualify anyone from high social status. Jodie was a very high achieving teachers’ pet, and yet was at the top of the Sophomore social pile on the basis of her good looks, fashion sense, and friendly personality as well as her vast extra-curricular connections, family wealth, and her dating the popular Mack.

Granted, many of the others currently popular (especially those in 9th and 10th grades) were shallow, perhaps not even very bright. To most of those who even noticed her, Daria was ‘that girl,’ ‘that freak,’ and yet even most of those who did so also seemed to accept her rather than look down on her – a conundrum Tori was still trying to judge. Tori was not going to go to the trouble to point out that, with a little effort, Daria would be one of the five best looking girls in the Sophomore class, maybe even top three, just after Jodie and herself. Despite that disapproval from many of the shallow and popular, Daria was therefore seen as one of the ‘not popular, but not unpopular’ over the first few weeks after her arrival, a bit higher in status than her friend Jane. Now, however, Brittany seemed to be sponsoring her, at least tonight. Jodie was known to be friendly towards her, and Mack liked her.

Daria had worn ‘those boots’ again, a fashion faux pas, and her usual type of skirt. Tori believed that Daria’s skirts (unlike some, Tori could tell Daria wore a number of nearly-identical skirts) were each fine by themselves; they were even flattering. The problem was they were nearly identical, and did not meld well with the rest of the unflattering outfit she normally wore. At tonight’s party, dressed in a well-cut blouse that showed off her figure a bit, a nice casual denim jacket, and a cravat that hid her scars and tied the outfit (other than the boots) together, and wearing make-up both so lightly and expertly used that even Tori had needed to look twice to make certain it wasn’t just ‘natural beauty,’ Daria was almost a knock-out. She was getting a number of surprised second and third looks tonight. Had she been smiling, she would have had boys flocking.


As for Quinn, while she was not the most beautiful girl at school, she and one of the drone members of the Fashion Club, Stacy, would likely be in the top two or three in the Freshman class. If the category were ‘cute’ rather than ‘beautiful,’ then Quinn would likely be in the top five of most people’s list for the whole school.

Tori’s pleasant expression froze but did not otherwise change when Sandi Griffin sidled up to her. “Hey,” she stated in a slightly snide monotone. “Okay party; not much going on.”

“Not a lot,” Tori agreed. “Some of the unattached girls are looking for someone to dance with. We’ll see how they do.” Tori preferred ballroom dancing, not that she would ever admit it.

Sandi merely sniffed in derision. Tori thought that likely was because few would approach the stuck-up leader of the so-called ‘Fashion Club.’ Like most Freshmen girls, popular or not, Sandi would likely dance with a group of girls – the remaining two club members, if no one else.

Tori ignored the snooty Freshman and again surveyed the room, muttering, “Now, she used to be very popular, but then then there was that unfortunate nose job. There’s Quinn, going into the other room. I guess she’s less interested in looking out for her sister tonight than monopolizing the attention of those two junior football players while escaping the Three J’s.” Sandi frowned at that entire statement, while Tori ignored her and went on, “She was new and cute so she became, like, the most popular Freshman overnight.” Tori did not notice the look of outrage on Sandi’s face. In her own mind, Sandi was the Freshman to be looked up to. In fact, it was only Stacy and Tiffany who did so, plus a few others who were willing to consider it, as they wanted into what looked like a splinter group that might rise in popularity. Sandi decided she had to correct this so-called expert.

“I was referred to you as someone who knew who was popular, but it’s clear you know nothing about who is popular and who is not,” Sandi snapped, her voice growing louder and attracting attention. “Next you’ll be claiming that voiceless ugly freak is popular!” Everyone now turned their attention towards Sandi while the room went silent.

Upchuck, who always kept close tabs on where all the girls were, quickly left the room to alert Quinn in the other room and then Jane in the ‘make-out’ room that Sandi was making a scene over Daria. Daria, who had been conversing with Mack and Jodi, snapped around as she heard the verbal assault, as did Jodie and Mack. Even more stunned than most, Brittany paused while pouring out potato chips to refill a bowl.

Kevin ignored it all, his eyes on the chips.

“What?” Sandi demanded, realizing that everyone was staring at her. Embarrassment caused her push forward instead of stopping, let alone apologizing. “What?” she demanded again, more loudly. “I just said what all of you think! I mean just look at her; think about how much worse she usually dresses. Look at those ugly boots and glasses!”

Daria slowly stood, her jaw clenched in anger. She took one step towards Sandi, but stopped and glanced at Mack.

“I’ll interpret,” he told her.

Daria nodded and marched up to Sandi. “Anyone who dresses like you should not criticize others,” Mack repeated.

“I am the president of the Fashion Club….”

“You mean the Freshman Fashion Club.”

“THE Fashion Club!”

“How many members do you have who are not Freshmen? How many members do you even have? Two, plus yourself. Why?”

“We are the only ones….”

“Nonsense,” Mack said for Daria, substituting a softer term than the crude one she had signed. “There you stand, in a skort set that would be appropriate for a twelve-year-old during the summer, not a fifteen-year-old in early November,” Mack had changed ‘fourteen’ for ‘fifteen,’ knowing that Sandi had been held back a grade in Middle School, “surrounded by any number of girls just in your class dressed better than you. Granted, Stacy dresses very nicely and flatteringly if casually, and Tiffany is always stylish, but Brooke is probably the most fashionably dressed member of your class, and that is just those in this room.” Mack supplied the actual names, since Daria had merely pointed them out. “Every member of the jv and varsity cheerleaders might dress in their uniforms during most days at school, but look at the ones here tonight.” All the jv and over half the varsity cheerleaders were at the party. “Everyone is dressed ‘fashionably,’ somewhere between Stacy and Brooke. Every Freshman girl is dressed more fashionably, certainly more stylishly, than you. If you don’t count the boots, even I’m dressed more stylishly than you. You’re only here because Stacy is so nice and because some of the popular boys like her and Tiffany.”

“Despite their size, you are clearly in need of new glasses,” Sandi stated, trying to bluster.

“These are new glasses, and I can see you for exactly what you are: a self-obsessed user. You do not want friends; you don’t people to like you – you want people to grovel, to fear you.” It was clear to nearly everyone, except perhaps Kevin, that Daria had nailed Sandi’s personality.

Sandi recovered her ego. “I am the president of the Fashion Club; I have to lead it. Then perhaps there will be at least a few more fashionable people here.”

“You mean besides you three.”

“Of course. Well, maybe, if they improve to my standards! Your disgusting kind is not needed. You should just leave!”

This was too much for the other girls present; even Sandi recoiled a bit from the collective growl from most of the nearly thirty girls in the room and doorways. It was not that many liked Daria that much, it was that they all disliked Sandi. They had all had thoughts similar to what Daria had pointed out; Sandi’s aggressive personality had stopped them from voicing them. She was not really popular, but had forced herself into the popular crowd. A number of the girls thought along the lines that the voiceless Daria was now speaking for them. Now that Daria had forced the issue, they could side against Sandi. The boys, even Kevin, knew enough to keep their opinions to themselves.

In the seconds of silence that fell after the crowd’s reaction to Sandi, the crowd divided and one of the few seniors present at the party stepped forward. Gail was there because she was the senior cheerleader and president of the Pep Squad, and she had wanted to support Brittany in her first party of the year. She and her boyfriend had been just about to leave. Gail was beautiful, stylish, tall, and smart. She had appointed Brittany ‘head cheerleader’ because of her enthusiasm and because of Brittany’s fearless ability to be the top of the pyramid (and because she wanted more time with her boyfriend). Her boyfriend Brandon, the captain of the football defense, was large and good looking. They ruled the school’s social scene that year.

Gail was also an honor student and a member of the Intermural Girls’ Golf Team. She actually rather liked Daria; she did not like Sandi.

Gail looked down on Sandi and merely curled her lip in disdain. She then went over to Daria while Brandon approached from the side. Gail leaned over and kissed Daria on the forehead, Brandon on her cheek.

Daria blushed. A lot. However, the message was passed. Daria was, no matter how different, at a minimum, okay. In the current situation, that also meant that Sandi was NOT. As Gail walked past her, she whispered to Brittany, “It’s your party and nearly everyone is a Sophomore or Freshman; lead.” She took her boyfriend’s hand, and they left.

Brittany set her jaw and marched over to stand next to Daria, while Quinn and Jane were already standing behind her. “This is my house; this is MY party,” Brittany stated, facing Sandi. “How DARE you try to drive someone I invited out? I suggest you leave. NOW!”

Sandi tried to maintain her glare, but it was impossible. “Fine. I wouldn’t want to stay with the unfashionable and unpopular. This is NOT the type of party I expected.” She turned. “Come on, Stacy, Tiffany.”

Sandi only made it two steps. “Buuuut, I don’t want to gooo,” Tiffany drawled with a pout.

“That’s up to you,” Brittany told her. “Both of you,” she added to Stacy. Her voice hardened. “But Sandi is leaving…now.”

Stacy started to hyperventilate. Quinn put her hand on Stacy’s upper arm. “It’s okay; whatever you decide we can be friends.”

“No you can’t! Come on, Stacy!” Sandi commanded.

Still breathing a bit too fast, Stacy shook her head and took a step back while averting her eyes and then hiding behind Quinn.

Sandi glared, and then turned and left the room. “I shall summon my ride from the guard booth,” she declared, trying to be dignified in utter defeat.

No one said anything, until after they heard the front door slam.

“There goes someone who will likely never be popular,” Tori said softly, shaking her head. She looked up and then around. “If anyone is interested in talking about fashion, as friends, how about my place, next Saturday at One?” Her eyes then focused on Quinn.

Quinn smiled. This would bury Sandi, put Quinn in a good position in the Freshman class, and hopefully NOT paint too large a target on her. “I think that would be a wonderful idea, Tori.” She looked at Stacy, Tiffany, and then Brooke. Brooke might have a somewhat odd nose, but Quinn realized that Daria was right: Brooke dressed very well. Her nose might even be considered…distinguished. “Don’t you think so?”

Stacy nodded in relief, while Brooke nodded with slight surprise at being included – Sandi had been teasing her for nearly a year. Her downward spiral of hating her self-image stopped here. This Brooke would never want a nose-job as Tiffany smiled at her. Tori’s Sophomore friends were already nodding as well.

Meanwhile, Brittany was saying to Daria, “Thank you for coming, and staying.”

Daria pulled out one of her little cards. THANK YOU. Brittany felt that the smile she also received more than just reflected the sentiment.

*

Over the short weeks through Thanksgiving, Daria and Quinn slowly fit into Lawndale ever a bit better. Daria was glad Brittany did not crowd her after her party. The perky blonde had formally joined the small group learning Sign Language, but other than then and at times in art class, the two did not interact much more than they had before. They were friendly, rather than friends.

Brittany was happy with that – she had Kevin, she had her fellow cheerleaders, and she had a wide range of ‘friends,’ or at least those she was friendly with, with Jodie and some of the cheerleaders at the top, to those like Daria in the middle, to a host of others. The interactions within the Sign Language group fulfilled a need she had not realized she had, and she had no desire to push it.

Daria was equally happy – in small doses, Brittany was pleasant, a little burst of sunshine in bland Lawndale High. In large doses, or when Kevin was also nearby…Daria was far from the only person irritated. The difference was, Daria understood the various, very different aspects of Brittany, and so was satisfied that most of the time Kevin stayed well-away from her.

For the first time since early elementary school, Daria had a small birthday party. No presents, just a few people over for cake and ice cream two days after her birthday (as that fell on a Thursday). Jane, Mack, Jodie, Brittany, and a few others from the golf team and the sign language group, plus, in part as a gesture to Quinn and partly as a good will gesture, Tori. It was low key, but all admitted to themselves that they had had a much better time than they had expected to.

Granted, Daria was a bit disappointed she could not get her learner’s permit yet – her mother insisted she wait until the spring. Daria would then be enrolled in the school’s drivers’ ed class (which would also earn her an insurance discount), and she would have the summer to practice.

Meanwhile, Daria and Quinn had managed to duck out of the short-term after-school college-prep course Ms. Li had pushed. Had Daria not been a member of the golf team and agreed to join the National Honor Society the next trimester (there were few doubts she would have the grades), and had Quinn not had the Pep Squad as well as golf and a first report of a B/B- average, one or the other, if not both, would have been pressed into the class.

On top of that, Daria was well ahead of any of her classmates when it came to investigating colleges. She had sent out letters the previous year to nearly every four-year institution of higher learning in Texas, explaining that she was an honor student with a vocal impairment. She had asked what, if any, programs (or problems) that college might have to aid her. Those with negative or unsatisfactory replies (or which did not reply) were of course dismissed, while those few that came through were ranked and kept for future consideration. Daria had already started the process for schools in Maryland, Washington DC, much of Virginia, southeastern Pennsylvania, south Jersey, and Delaware.

At the same time, Mr. 0’Neill had been upset that the town’s cybercafé had been robbed. He was fascinated by the internet but could not afford a good computer or the dial-up fees to surf at home. The café owners were discouraged to the point of giving up the business, and no-one could get any of the students interested, nor get even a spark of an idea. Daria, like the other students (even Jodie), stayed away from the issue.

As Thanksgiving approached, Quinn and even the much more cynical Daria had largely discounted the mutterings by Jane and others about how odd Lawndale, especially Lawndale High, could be. Despite some very odd characters, and some very stupid characters (like Kevin), none even came close to some of the people in Highland, not even including Beavis and Butthead (who were in a league of their own even by Highland standards).

Then came the last two days of class before Thanksgiving. First, Ms. Li came over the school’s speaker system at the start of Daria’s English class to announce that a modelling agency would be arriving two weeks from Thursday as part of a national talent search. One or more winners could be chosen for a professional photoshoot, and be eligible for a modelling contract. Needless to say, that got a number of students excited, especially those like Quinn, Brittany (who seemed to have been the one, or at least one of the students, that had submitted Lawndale High for consideration for a search), and Tori who were more than casually interested in fashion. It also inspired Sandi, who was looking for a way to rejoin the ranks of the popular, or at least respected. Daria had merely shaken her head at the folly likely to come out of such a competition amongst the various factions.

Daria was even more taken aback the next day, when Ms. Bennett managed to twist one of her answers into envisioning a trip for her economic students to the new super-mall, the Mall of the Millennium, which had opened just in time for the start of the holiday shopping season the Friday after the short Thanksgiving break. Granted, that would not be as bad as ‘black Friday,’ but the thought of how overcrowded the super mall would be, even on a workday during the Christmas shopping season, sent shivers through the petite scholar.

‘Modelling and malls; two of my favorite things,’ Daria snarked that afternoon. She was lying on Jane’s bed, her boots hanging off the edge. Jane was varnishing a finished acrylic painting while keeping an eye on her friend’s hands.

“Well, two of your sister’s favorite things,” Jane teased.

‘I might love my sister, but that does not mean I have to like the things she does.’

“True. Done!” Jane stepped back from her easel with real satisfaction. This painting almost matched what she had imagined, and that was rare for any artist.

‘May I see?’ Daria asked. For some reason, Jane had been keeping this painting away from her. She just hoped Jane was not being a tease about her crush on Trent…again. Still, she had respected Jane’s requests not to look.

“It’s not even dry enough to varnish yet, so just come and look. I’ll varnish it tonight.”

Daria swung her feet to the side of the bed and let the boots’ momentum to help sit up. She came over and her eyebrows raised in surprise. Her breath escaped with a slight grunt, which made her flush.

The painting was on an 18 by 30-inch canvas board. In the painting, Daria and Quinn were across from each other, not quite in profile and shown waist up. They were looking at each other, Quinn with her full smile and Daria with about for most people would be considered less than a half-smile. Daria’s hands were gesturing ‘sisters’ while Quinn’s showed ‘love.’

Daria’s smile echoed hers in the painting. ‘Quinn will complain that it shows her good side, not her best side.’ Daria hesitated, but then signed, ‘Thank you.’ She leaned over and lightly hugged her friend. Stunned at first, Jane hugged her back.

When they released the other, Jane asked, “You think your parents will like it?”

‘Of course; a great Christmas present.’

“It’s more of a general ‘thank you’ present. It should be dry tomorrow morning. I thought I’d give it to them before dinner.” Trent and the band were playing a rave that started Thanksgiving afternoon, so Jane was coming to dinner and then staying over for a ‘bad movie weekend.’ Jake was off to a conference that Friday, while Quinn and some of her friends were determined to find black Friday bargains while Helen put in a day at the office. Helen and Quinn were planning on hunting various boutiques together on the Saturday. Daria planned on alternating between supplying sustenance to her sister and Mother as they returned from the hunts and watching as many bad movies (when Helen and Quinn were present) or blood-dripping horror (when they were out of the house). She and Jane had plenty of both.

*

That year, Helen undertook an effort she usually derided. She sent out a Christmas letter to her and Jake’s family and a few old friends. The upper third of the front page was a full color reproduction of Jane’s painting.

The painting itself would hang in the living room of every place Helen lived in the rest of her life.