Categories > Cartoons > Daria > Daria in college - 1980
80s Daria Chapter 2
By Dr T
September 1 had been Labor Day, and so the second week of classes fell on Tuesday. For Daria, that meant Statistics at 8:00, Speech (with Quinn) at 9:30, Renaissance Art (with Jane) at 11:00, Aerobics at 1:10, her first flute lesson at 2:00, and Orchestra at 4:00. Daria was not really a morning person, unless she was compared to her sister or Jane.
Quinn managed to meet Daria a few minutes before the class started. Daria rolled her eyes. She was wearing a small knapsack, which Quinn had teased her about slightly when they had been packing for college. Daria took it off as they entered the classroom, opened it, and handed Quinn something in a napkin. Quinn sat behind Daria (who as usual picked a seat just off center in the second row) and unwrapped the napkin to find a folded slice of wheat bread with peanut butter and grape jelly – her favorite.
“Thanks,” Quinn whispered, hungry, since she’s missed breakfast.
“You’re welcome, and here.”
Quinn’s eyes went wide as Daria handed her a carton of milk. The half sandwich had been made in the cafeteria of course, but Daria would have had to stop at the vending machines in the dorm to get the milk.
“I’m happy to get you the snack if you’d like me to, but you’ll have to remember to get the milk from now on.”
Quinn had to swallow some milk before she could say, “I’d really appreciate that; thanks again.” She paused, and asked, in a somewhat begging voice, “Would you please…?”
“Yes, every day, which means you’d better be early to class. I’m sure Schmidt wouldn’t like it.”
“Late breakfast?” the instructor asked, coming past them. She turned to the class. “I know this passes as early for some of you. If you must eat or drink something, make sure it doesn’t crunch or otherwise make noise, and that includes any wrappers. Be finished within the first five minutes of class and clean up after yourselves after class.”
As Daria had pointed out, both teens knew that the Musicology professor would not be so lenient.
-80s-
Jane was more awake than Quinn had been, but she was probably hungry as well when she sat next to Daria. Daria was not going to feed both. She did bring Jane a banana this time, however.
The art history course was large, but nowhere near as large as Musicology, although more than 60 were in the lecture hall. Daria’s eyes went wide when she spotted the violist sitting in the back of the class – she really had not looked around the previous Thursday. She was even more surprised when the professor asked the various grad students to stand and Daria saw he was one of them. He was not, however, one of the two TAs for the course.
Jane and Daria had lunch together, although Daria ate somewhat sparingly – a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a little salad. Knowing she’d be exercising after lunch, she had eaten a slightly larger breakfast than usual. Since it was her first full meal of the day, Jane wolfed down her own hamburger, fries, and corn, and she had persuaded Daria to get a burger and fries as well. She ate Daria’s burger and two-thirds of the fries – Daria had to stab at Jane with her fork when she tried to capture all of them.
-80s-
While she really didn’t have much time, Daria managed to shower after the exercise class – fortunately the University’s old gym was near the music building. She actually felt good to have done the 30-minute workout. She was also pleased with her flute lesson. Talking first with the flute instructor and then her violin instructor, she was able to switch both of her instrument lessons (which lasted 25 minutes) to 2:30.
Daria spent the next hour in a practice room – this was on the busier first floor – she preferred the quieter third or fourth floors. The first, second, and third floors had practice organs and two corridors of practice rooms came off the main corridor. The storage rooms for instruments were on the second floor, and so most instrumentalists preferred practicing there. The band room was near the practice rooms, and percussionists were usually making noise there when the band or orchestra weren’t rehearsing. The band frat and their friends, and those majors who smoked, also hung out in the open seating between one of the practice corridors and the rest of the second floor. The first floor practice rooms were near the entrance most students used as well as a storage area for jackets and book lockers, so there was a fair amount of traffic. The piano majors also liked the first floor, as the keyboard instructors were located nearby.
The top, fourth floor was quieter, with the listening lab, the music library, the department offices, and only a half corridor of practice rooms – what noise there came mostly from two large classrooms and a few offices. It also had practice rooms for harpsichords and a harp. Daria preferred the third floor; she had already noticed it was used mostly by voice and some of the most serious majors, and as an overflow from the first two floors.
She quickly played through the marching band music – her eidetic memory already had it memorized, but it still took some practice to transfer that fully into muscle memory. She also played through her next flute lesson for the first time, and then, after playing some warmup exercises on the piano, went through her assignment for voice class.
This had only taken half an hour, leaving her about 30 more minutes before she’d have to pack everything up and transfer to the second floor for string rehearsal. She did not want to admit to herself that she was interested in seeing the violist, merely that she wanted to be early.
Still, Daria did not skimp on those thirty minutes. The music (other than the orchestra folder), flute, and piccolo were stuffed into her knapsack and Daria went down to put her things away, entering the band room for rehearsal about seven minutes early. She unconsciously smiled when she saw the violist coming in through the other door – obviously coming from the practice rooms rather than a storage area.
As they sat, Daria opened with, “I take it you’re some type of art or art history grad student?”
“Interdisciplinary studies, modern European culture and history, actually,” he answered. “The art course, Ren-Ref history, and modern French Lit.” He smiled. “Tyler Green.”
“Daria Morgendorffer.”
“Are you a Sophomore or Junior?”
Daria shook her head. “Freshman, currently undecided between violin and flute.”
Tyler smiled. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Daria cocked her head to the side in an unasked question.
“Even though he didn’t want one, I’ve assigned as the TA for the Classical/Romantic musicology class.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you…” Daria blushed a bit. “…every day.”
“Every week day, at the least.” Tyler smiled, and Daria blushed a bit more, even as she smiled in return.
-80s-
“Good morning,” Professor Schmidt intoned precisely at 8:00 the next morning. “As you can see, if you have a good eye for faces, we have an addition today. Please stand.” Tyler, seated in the far right of the front row as previously directed, stood. “This is Mister Tyler Green, and he going to act as a teaching assistant for this course, even though I’ve never had one, or really thought I needed one. He is an interdisciplinary graduate student; however, he does have a BA in Music from a decent Pennsylvania state college. He is also knowledgeable about history. He will NOT have any insights into the upcoming exams, he will however be available for consultation during four office hours a week.” While technically true, Schmidt would be meeting with the young man to make sure he wasn’t at least passing on misinformation. “There is a small office – four fourteen, really a practice room with a tiny desk rather than a piano – upstairs where you may find him. He’ll have the hours posted by the end of classes tomorrow.” After a glance around, he stated, “Let us move on to the orchestral and form developments of Beethoven.”
Schmidt had glanced around for several reasons. Like a few others in the room, he had an eidetic memory, and he already knew all the names and faces of his students – he was given copies of their id photos. He knew where they had sat the first day, the previous Friday, and today, and noted the changes. There were 135 seats, and in theory 106 people who should be seated. There was an even 100 – he would be reporting the two who had missed all three of the first classes. A few who had sat on the sides had moved towards the center, even if it meant moving back a row or two, probably to hear or see better. A few of the males had switched seats, trying to sit next to some of the prettier girls who weren’t seated in the front row or the center of the second.
Schmidt himself was one of the more persistent, although less obvious, letches on the faculty. His last student mistress had graduated, and he was considering if he could pick one up in this class or if her would have to go for a Sophomore. He went for the shy, insecure but talented type – he was proud that when they graduated – and he helped them earn the grades to graduate when necessary – they were not only very sexually experienced and confident in their personal relationships, but have the personal confidence to face the hostile world.
So, he was a bit disappointed in one of the shifts and interested in a related one. The shorter Morgendorffer girl may or may not be shy, but he thought she exuded a quiet self-confidence. She had sat as close to the center of the second row as possible the first two classes, but had shifted as far to his right as the other students who came just before her allowed her to – Daria would have claimed a closer seat but she had given Quinn her half sandwich – from the looks exchanged between her and Green, the two were attracted, even if she might not fully know it yet. Green certainly did.
The change that disappointed him a bit was with Jennifer Burns. The first two classes, she had been trying to hide near the back right of the class by herself. Today, she was sitting to the left of the Morgendorffer girl. Obviously, the two flute players were becoming friendly. He also noticed that the other Morgendorffer and Tori Jerico had abandoned the back row where the other musical theater majors were trying to hide and had moved closer to Daria.
As the class ended, Tyler made a move towards Daria, which made her stop and move towards him in turn.
“Do you have anything right before marching band?”
“No,” Daria admitted.
“I’ll be in my new office between Two and Four, if you’d like to stop by.”
“Okay – I gotta get to theory lab.”
Quinn observed this with a surprised but happy smile for her sister, Schmidt with a slightly sardonic one. Tori and Jennifer wondered if they had misjudged Daria.
-80s-
Daria endured some mild teasing from Quinn and Jane at lunch, to the amusement of both Tori and Jennifer. Daria still went to the exercise class and took a shower afterwards. Cursing herself a bit, Daria had gone back to her dorm after eating a quick lunch, digging out her larger backpack and packing a completely different outfit, even if that meant changing back into her previous outfit for marching band.
Therefore, in the locker room of the old gym, instead of the nice skirt, blouse, and open sweater she’d worn in the morning, along with long socks and gym shoes (best for marching band – they would actually be doing ninety minutes of marching drills this afternoon), Daria didn’t bother with her bra, and dressed in a thin light green blouse Quinn had given her, a slightly shorter skirt, and ankle socks with Quinn’s old saddle shoes (Quinn had gifted them when she had outgrown them). She kept the sweater.
Looking in a locker-room full-length mirror, Daria blushed and made certain she adjusted the sweater to cover her areola, even though the inner curves of her breasts were still slightly visible through the blouse’s fabric – this was the first time she’d worn this and it was much closer to being transparent than she had realized. Biting her lip, Daria buttoned the sweater up and went to the music building.
The side entrance to the music building facing the old gym was generally the least used of the three ground floor entrances. Daria went up to retrieve her piccolo, just in case she had time to practice. As she exited on to the second floor, she was startled to see Tyler coming from a different storage area.
The two stopped, and then Tyler approached. Silently, they nodded, and Daria, blushing, followed him up the stairs to his ‘office’. It turned out this was, like Schmidt had stated, a practice room, although unlike most of those, there was no upright piano in this one, just a small desk, three chairs, and a music stand. There was, however, a small window in the door like all the other practice rooms.
“Have a seat and take off your sweater; you look warm.”
Daria blushed, and with some fumbling she unbuttoned her sweater, although she did not let it fall too far open. Tyler instantly noticed why, and did not press the matter. “Well,” he said with a smile, “I think this is a bit more awkward than either of us anticipated.”
Daria took a deep breath and agreed.
“Shall I be straight forward?”
“Please,” Daria agreed, her usual alto in a higher register from nerves.
“May I please take you to dinner Friday after marching band?”
Daria nodded her agreement, and managed to ask, “Where?”
Tyler noticed she was now holding the sweater almost shut – she was obviously embarrassed by her blouse’s sheerness – she had either underestimated either its transparency or her bravery. “I was going to suggest my place; I’m a pretty good cook. However, let’s start someplace informal – there are three burger places, two pizza places, two diners, several informal places – Denny’s, Chinese, a new sea food place, and so on. You really wouldn’t have much of a chance to change after marching band. I do have a car, so we could go further afield if you’d like. Any preferences?”
Daria cleared her throat and managed, “Any of those informal places would be great.”
The desk was against the wall, so it offered Daria no cover – her straight chair was facing Tyler’s swivel chair. Taking pity, he picked up her backpack and sat it on her lap. Daria flushed as she involuntarily hugged it.
“Don’t worry, I understand.”
Daria blushed more deeply. “I…I was at an exercise class. My sister gave me this and these are her old saddle shoes….Arrrgh!” She faceplanted on the top of her backpack. “Forgive my babbling.”
Tyler ignored her embarrassment. “Your sister goes here?”
“Twin….” Daria muttered into the backpack. “The redhead I was with before class.”
“While from what little I saw it looked fabulous on you, that does look a bit more like her style than yours.”
“Yeah, it was a present; she would have known how…how it would look without…without….”
“Like I said, it’s okay. I understand”
“Is it?”
“Yes. First of all, remember, I’m not your instructor in any way – I’m not setting the tests or even grading the tests – that’s all done by scantron. I’m just a student, like you. We may have a connection, and would like to learn about each other and see if it’s more than that. Right?”
Daria’s color got a bit better and she looked up. “Right, actually.” That was exactly how she had thought of the situation.”
“So, unless someone shows up, we have until at least Three thirty to talk. If you want, go change in the ladies’ room if you can, and we can talk more comfortably.” He doubted she had intended to wear that outfit to band practice.
“Alright.” Daria stood, clutching the backpack.
“Would you like me to carry that for you? You can leave the piccolo here.”
“Okay.”
Tyler took it without looking at Daria as she stood and buttoned the sweater. They walked down the empty corridor. When they stopped in front of the ladies’ room, Daria took a deep breath and looked up and down the hallway, verifying it was empty. She took another deep breath (which accidentally made things a bit more interesting for Tyler), unbuttoned the sweater and took it off. The light from the windows down the corridor made the left side and most of the front see-through as she turned to him and asked, her voice almost steady, “Hold my sweater?”
“Of course.” Tyler exchanged the backpack for the sweater, and Daria fled into the restroom.
Coming out a few minutes later, Daria said, “Sorry about that; I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much.”
“Not at all, I was just worried it might drive you off. I don’t know why, but it just seemed last week that, well….”
“I know, that’s never happened to me before. You?”
“Not really,” Tyler agreed. “Where are you from?”
By the time they got back to his office, Daria had given Tyler her basic background. There was no one waiting, so when they sat he gave Daria an equally brief run-down. “Let’s see, I’m from a suburb of Pittsburgh, and I got my degrees in art and music from Indiana of Pennsylvania. My father’s families are old colonial Puritans from Massachusetts and Connecticut, and Baptists from Rhode Island. They migrated southwest until they ended in Pittsburgh before the Civil War. They all worked in the steel industry, fortunately for them as mill operators and then owners until Carnegie bought out my great-grandfathers. So, my grandfathers became executives for US Steel. My father served in the army in Europe in the ‘Fifties, where he met my mother, who was Danish. My Danish great-grandfathers and grandfathers were developers. My mother was the youngest of four – the two oldest, boys, were conscripted by the Nazis in 1944, and were both killed on the Eastern Front. My aunt took over two-thirds of her parents’ holdings, my mother the rest.”
Tyler sighed. “I had two younger siblings, a sister and brother. They and my parents were killed in a car accident in January of Seventy-eight – they had dropped me off after the break and were going home.”
Daria placed her hands on his left wrist in sympathy.
“So, my aunt runs the Danish-based investments, and my father’s business stuff was converted to investments, like most of my grandparents’ – they died a few years ago.” He smiled wanly. “And here I am, trying to become an academic instead of a corporate executive.” Considering what her parents did, Tyler did not worry about her just being a gold digger. Daria felt a bit reassured as well, although she was severely underestimating his families’ wealth.
After a moment’s silence, Daria said, “We can discuss this stuff Friday. What can you tell me so that I can tell my friends about class?”
“Not a lot, but Schmidt did give me some things I could pass along.”
-80s-
While Daria admitted to her mistake with the blouse that evening in her dorm room, she of course did not mention flashing Tyler. Jane and especially Quinn teased her about not realizing she needed to wear something under such material, but Daria merely took their teasing in stride. Quinn also teased her twin about the fact that she had a date before Quinn herself, although Quinn was going out to dinner followed by the new movie in town (‘Airplane!’) with a freshman business major in her English Composition class. Daria, Jane, and Jennifer would be going as well, but promised not to bother Quinn.
Neither of the girls realized that Tyler had walked Daria all the way to the dorm after orchestra practice. Daria had smiled when he offered his hand on their approach to the front door; instead of shaking it, he had kissed the back of her hand and then back of her fingers. That did account for her actual smile when she had reached her room, where Quinn and Jennifer had been waiting with Jane to ambush her with questions.
-80s-
On the whole, Thursday and Friday went fairly normally for Daria. Her friends in Musicology (as well as the professor and a few of the other students) noticed that Green was now sitting at the end of the second row and Daria was sitting next to him. Students that questioned Daria over the next several classes were all simply sent to see Tyler for help – those that did, or those who sought out advice from older students (or worked with students who had done at least one of those things), did better than those who didn’t. Of course, some of the successful students studied hard by themselves, but those who did not get help often overstudied the wrong things. Tyler had not only listened to Dr. Schmidt, but he had also taken the time to talk with upper-class students and made sure to pass on the same hints and advice to all the students, not just Daria.
The band had marched down to the football stadium (down a steep hill from the old gym) and spent ninety minutes learning the opening three minutes of the halftime show (they only learned one ten-minute show, and would be performing it several times at home and a few weekends on the road). Then they had the much harder job of marching up the steep hill to the gym and then another to back of the music building while tired. The next week, weather permitting, they would be playing for forty minutes and practicing on the field for fifty, the rest of the time getting into formations and marching.
After marching up that step hill, even though she was not one of the band members really puffing or panting, Daria resolved if she did not make the concert wind ensemble (which met both semesters), she would definitely become just a violin major the next fall.
Since it was now so late on a Friday, Tyler could park his car behind the music building (this was built into a hill, so the upper parking lot was set between the levels of the third and fourth floors – the public entrance to the auditorium was on this level and was where the band marched from – giving them two hills to march up to and down from). After the whole band was in place, it marched in place for a few seconds and then the drum major blew the whistle and the drum cadence stopped a few beats later rather than repeating from the beginning.
The band, majorettes, color guard, and band front started milling about, Daria saw Tyler at the far end of the parking lot. She was surprised to see he drove an 8 year old AMC Hornet (he later told her he had bought it used when he was 16). She didn’t bother putting the piccolo away, she just walked over and said, “Take me off this hill.”
“Did you decide where you wanted to eat?”
“After this, how about something like a steak house?”
“As soon as the mob clears, we’ll be off.”
-8-s-
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tyler asked as they walked towards the steak house.
“I think so,” Daria replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I have a few blisters tomorrow, though. I just need some protein.”
The drinking age in Delaware, unlike some states, was 21, so Tyler didn’t bother ordering wine or beer for himself. Daria chatted about her family, especially Quinn, and Tyler talked about his music, art, and interest in history.
“Not literature?” Daria asked at one point.
“Not as such,” was the answer. “Most graduate work in literature, English or otherwise, is more about applying theories than discussing the actual work. And, of course, you’re expected to learn canon – usually canon pieces are important for good reasons, but not always interesting to read, never mind having to apply theories you don’t care about to.”
“Really?”
Tyler shrugged. “I suppose it depends on the course and the professor, but that’s been my limited experience so far.”
“I might still want to get a degree in Creative Writing, but that stops at the Master’s.”
“Yeah, the MFA is the terminal degree for that.”
Daria nodded. “Getting a degree in Literature doesn’t sound as appealing.”
Tyler shrugged. “Who knows, you might like that aspect once you’re exposed to it.”
Daria decided she could splurge on a dessert, and while they were eating their cheesecake, she said, “I’m coaching Quinn in the morning for an audition she’s doing in the afternoon, and then seeing ‘Airplane!’ with Jane and Jennifer tomorrow night. I guess I’ll be in the practice rooms most of the week end otherwise if one is empty.”
“Professor Schmidt is the faculty building manager, and for some reason he gave me two keys to my office. If you don’t think it would cause too much talk, would you like the second key?”
Daria bit her lip in thought, and then said, “I…it might be too soon for that.”
“Okay,” was the simple response. “I’ll be there in the morning, but I need to get some painting done – it’s been a couple of weeks.”
-80s-
Tyler drove Daria up to the music building so she could return her piccolo, and then drove her down to the dorm. This time, she exchanged a light kiss before facing the teasing from Jane. Quinn would wait until the next day.
By Dr T
September 1 had been Labor Day, and so the second week of classes fell on Tuesday. For Daria, that meant Statistics at 8:00, Speech (with Quinn) at 9:30, Renaissance Art (with Jane) at 11:00, Aerobics at 1:10, her first flute lesson at 2:00, and Orchestra at 4:00. Daria was not really a morning person, unless she was compared to her sister or Jane.
Quinn managed to meet Daria a few minutes before the class started. Daria rolled her eyes. She was wearing a small knapsack, which Quinn had teased her about slightly when they had been packing for college. Daria took it off as they entered the classroom, opened it, and handed Quinn something in a napkin. Quinn sat behind Daria (who as usual picked a seat just off center in the second row) and unwrapped the napkin to find a folded slice of wheat bread with peanut butter and grape jelly – her favorite.
“Thanks,” Quinn whispered, hungry, since she’s missed breakfast.
“You’re welcome, and here.”
Quinn’s eyes went wide as Daria handed her a carton of milk. The half sandwich had been made in the cafeteria of course, but Daria would have had to stop at the vending machines in the dorm to get the milk.
“I’m happy to get you the snack if you’d like me to, but you’ll have to remember to get the milk from now on.”
Quinn had to swallow some milk before she could say, “I’d really appreciate that; thanks again.” She paused, and asked, in a somewhat begging voice, “Would you please…?”
“Yes, every day, which means you’d better be early to class. I’m sure Schmidt wouldn’t like it.”
“Late breakfast?” the instructor asked, coming past them. She turned to the class. “I know this passes as early for some of you. If you must eat or drink something, make sure it doesn’t crunch or otherwise make noise, and that includes any wrappers. Be finished within the first five minutes of class and clean up after yourselves after class.”
As Daria had pointed out, both teens knew that the Musicology professor would not be so lenient.
-80s-
Jane was more awake than Quinn had been, but she was probably hungry as well when she sat next to Daria. Daria was not going to feed both. She did bring Jane a banana this time, however.
The art history course was large, but nowhere near as large as Musicology, although more than 60 were in the lecture hall. Daria’s eyes went wide when she spotted the violist sitting in the back of the class – she really had not looked around the previous Thursday. She was even more surprised when the professor asked the various grad students to stand and Daria saw he was one of them. He was not, however, one of the two TAs for the course.
Jane and Daria had lunch together, although Daria ate somewhat sparingly – a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a little salad. Knowing she’d be exercising after lunch, she had eaten a slightly larger breakfast than usual. Since it was her first full meal of the day, Jane wolfed down her own hamburger, fries, and corn, and she had persuaded Daria to get a burger and fries as well. She ate Daria’s burger and two-thirds of the fries – Daria had to stab at Jane with her fork when she tried to capture all of them.
-80s-
While she really didn’t have much time, Daria managed to shower after the exercise class – fortunately the University’s old gym was near the music building. She actually felt good to have done the 30-minute workout. She was also pleased with her flute lesson. Talking first with the flute instructor and then her violin instructor, she was able to switch both of her instrument lessons (which lasted 25 minutes) to 2:30.
Daria spent the next hour in a practice room – this was on the busier first floor – she preferred the quieter third or fourth floors. The first, second, and third floors had practice organs and two corridors of practice rooms came off the main corridor. The storage rooms for instruments were on the second floor, and so most instrumentalists preferred practicing there. The band room was near the practice rooms, and percussionists were usually making noise there when the band or orchestra weren’t rehearsing. The band frat and their friends, and those majors who smoked, also hung out in the open seating between one of the practice corridors and the rest of the second floor. The first floor practice rooms were near the entrance most students used as well as a storage area for jackets and book lockers, so there was a fair amount of traffic. The piano majors also liked the first floor, as the keyboard instructors were located nearby.
The top, fourth floor was quieter, with the listening lab, the music library, the department offices, and only a half corridor of practice rooms – what noise there came mostly from two large classrooms and a few offices. It also had practice rooms for harpsichords and a harp. Daria preferred the third floor; she had already noticed it was used mostly by voice and some of the most serious majors, and as an overflow from the first two floors.
She quickly played through the marching band music – her eidetic memory already had it memorized, but it still took some practice to transfer that fully into muscle memory. She also played through her next flute lesson for the first time, and then, after playing some warmup exercises on the piano, went through her assignment for voice class.
This had only taken half an hour, leaving her about 30 more minutes before she’d have to pack everything up and transfer to the second floor for string rehearsal. She did not want to admit to herself that she was interested in seeing the violist, merely that she wanted to be early.
Still, Daria did not skimp on those thirty minutes. The music (other than the orchestra folder), flute, and piccolo were stuffed into her knapsack and Daria went down to put her things away, entering the band room for rehearsal about seven minutes early. She unconsciously smiled when she saw the violist coming in through the other door – obviously coming from the practice rooms rather than a storage area.
As they sat, Daria opened with, “I take it you’re some type of art or art history grad student?”
“Interdisciplinary studies, modern European culture and history, actually,” he answered. “The art course, Ren-Ref history, and modern French Lit.” He smiled. “Tyler Green.”
“Daria Morgendorffer.”
“Are you a Sophomore or Junior?”
Daria shook her head. “Freshman, currently undecided between violin and flute.”
Tyler smiled. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Daria cocked her head to the side in an unasked question.
“Even though he didn’t want one, I’ve assigned as the TA for the Classical/Romantic musicology class.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you…” Daria blushed a bit. “…every day.”
“Every week day, at the least.” Tyler smiled, and Daria blushed a bit more, even as she smiled in return.
-80s-
“Good morning,” Professor Schmidt intoned precisely at 8:00 the next morning. “As you can see, if you have a good eye for faces, we have an addition today. Please stand.” Tyler, seated in the far right of the front row as previously directed, stood. “This is Mister Tyler Green, and he going to act as a teaching assistant for this course, even though I’ve never had one, or really thought I needed one. He is an interdisciplinary graduate student; however, he does have a BA in Music from a decent Pennsylvania state college. He is also knowledgeable about history. He will NOT have any insights into the upcoming exams, he will however be available for consultation during four office hours a week.” While technically true, Schmidt would be meeting with the young man to make sure he wasn’t at least passing on misinformation. “There is a small office – four fourteen, really a practice room with a tiny desk rather than a piano – upstairs where you may find him. He’ll have the hours posted by the end of classes tomorrow.” After a glance around, he stated, “Let us move on to the orchestral and form developments of Beethoven.”
Schmidt had glanced around for several reasons. Like a few others in the room, he had an eidetic memory, and he already knew all the names and faces of his students – he was given copies of their id photos. He knew where they had sat the first day, the previous Friday, and today, and noted the changes. There were 135 seats, and in theory 106 people who should be seated. There was an even 100 – he would be reporting the two who had missed all three of the first classes. A few who had sat on the sides had moved towards the center, even if it meant moving back a row or two, probably to hear or see better. A few of the males had switched seats, trying to sit next to some of the prettier girls who weren’t seated in the front row or the center of the second.
Schmidt himself was one of the more persistent, although less obvious, letches on the faculty. His last student mistress had graduated, and he was considering if he could pick one up in this class or if her would have to go for a Sophomore. He went for the shy, insecure but talented type – he was proud that when they graduated – and he helped them earn the grades to graduate when necessary – they were not only very sexually experienced and confident in their personal relationships, but have the personal confidence to face the hostile world.
So, he was a bit disappointed in one of the shifts and interested in a related one. The shorter Morgendorffer girl may or may not be shy, but he thought she exuded a quiet self-confidence. She had sat as close to the center of the second row as possible the first two classes, but had shifted as far to his right as the other students who came just before her allowed her to – Daria would have claimed a closer seat but she had given Quinn her half sandwich – from the looks exchanged between her and Green, the two were attracted, even if she might not fully know it yet. Green certainly did.
The change that disappointed him a bit was with Jennifer Burns. The first two classes, she had been trying to hide near the back right of the class by herself. Today, she was sitting to the left of the Morgendorffer girl. Obviously, the two flute players were becoming friendly. He also noticed that the other Morgendorffer and Tori Jerico had abandoned the back row where the other musical theater majors were trying to hide and had moved closer to Daria.
As the class ended, Tyler made a move towards Daria, which made her stop and move towards him in turn.
“Do you have anything right before marching band?”
“No,” Daria admitted.
“I’ll be in my new office between Two and Four, if you’d like to stop by.”
“Okay – I gotta get to theory lab.”
Quinn observed this with a surprised but happy smile for her sister, Schmidt with a slightly sardonic one. Tori and Jennifer wondered if they had misjudged Daria.
-80s-
Daria endured some mild teasing from Quinn and Jane at lunch, to the amusement of both Tori and Jennifer. Daria still went to the exercise class and took a shower afterwards. Cursing herself a bit, Daria had gone back to her dorm after eating a quick lunch, digging out her larger backpack and packing a completely different outfit, even if that meant changing back into her previous outfit for marching band.
Therefore, in the locker room of the old gym, instead of the nice skirt, blouse, and open sweater she’d worn in the morning, along with long socks and gym shoes (best for marching band – they would actually be doing ninety minutes of marching drills this afternoon), Daria didn’t bother with her bra, and dressed in a thin light green blouse Quinn had given her, a slightly shorter skirt, and ankle socks with Quinn’s old saddle shoes (Quinn had gifted them when she had outgrown them). She kept the sweater.
Looking in a locker-room full-length mirror, Daria blushed and made certain she adjusted the sweater to cover her areola, even though the inner curves of her breasts were still slightly visible through the blouse’s fabric – this was the first time she’d worn this and it was much closer to being transparent than she had realized. Biting her lip, Daria buttoned the sweater up and went to the music building.
The side entrance to the music building facing the old gym was generally the least used of the three ground floor entrances. Daria went up to retrieve her piccolo, just in case she had time to practice. As she exited on to the second floor, she was startled to see Tyler coming from a different storage area.
The two stopped, and then Tyler approached. Silently, they nodded, and Daria, blushing, followed him up the stairs to his ‘office’. It turned out this was, like Schmidt had stated, a practice room, although unlike most of those, there was no upright piano in this one, just a small desk, three chairs, and a music stand. There was, however, a small window in the door like all the other practice rooms.
“Have a seat and take off your sweater; you look warm.”
Daria blushed, and with some fumbling she unbuttoned her sweater, although she did not let it fall too far open. Tyler instantly noticed why, and did not press the matter. “Well,” he said with a smile, “I think this is a bit more awkward than either of us anticipated.”
Daria took a deep breath and agreed.
“Shall I be straight forward?”
“Please,” Daria agreed, her usual alto in a higher register from nerves.
“May I please take you to dinner Friday after marching band?”
Daria nodded her agreement, and managed to ask, “Where?”
Tyler noticed she was now holding the sweater almost shut – she was obviously embarrassed by her blouse’s sheerness – she had either underestimated either its transparency or her bravery. “I was going to suggest my place; I’m a pretty good cook. However, let’s start someplace informal – there are three burger places, two pizza places, two diners, several informal places – Denny’s, Chinese, a new sea food place, and so on. You really wouldn’t have much of a chance to change after marching band. I do have a car, so we could go further afield if you’d like. Any preferences?”
Daria cleared her throat and managed, “Any of those informal places would be great.”
The desk was against the wall, so it offered Daria no cover – her straight chair was facing Tyler’s swivel chair. Taking pity, he picked up her backpack and sat it on her lap. Daria flushed as she involuntarily hugged it.
“Don’t worry, I understand.”
Daria blushed more deeply. “I…I was at an exercise class. My sister gave me this and these are her old saddle shoes….Arrrgh!” She faceplanted on the top of her backpack. “Forgive my babbling.”
Tyler ignored her embarrassment. “Your sister goes here?”
“Twin….” Daria muttered into the backpack. “The redhead I was with before class.”
“While from what little I saw it looked fabulous on you, that does look a bit more like her style than yours.”
“Yeah, it was a present; she would have known how…how it would look without…without….”
“Like I said, it’s okay. I understand”
“Is it?”
“Yes. First of all, remember, I’m not your instructor in any way – I’m not setting the tests or even grading the tests – that’s all done by scantron. I’m just a student, like you. We may have a connection, and would like to learn about each other and see if it’s more than that. Right?”
Daria’s color got a bit better and she looked up. “Right, actually.” That was exactly how she had thought of the situation.”
“So, unless someone shows up, we have until at least Three thirty to talk. If you want, go change in the ladies’ room if you can, and we can talk more comfortably.” He doubted she had intended to wear that outfit to band practice.
“Alright.” Daria stood, clutching the backpack.
“Would you like me to carry that for you? You can leave the piccolo here.”
“Okay.”
Tyler took it without looking at Daria as she stood and buttoned the sweater. They walked down the empty corridor. When they stopped in front of the ladies’ room, Daria took a deep breath and looked up and down the hallway, verifying it was empty. She took another deep breath (which accidentally made things a bit more interesting for Tyler), unbuttoned the sweater and took it off. The light from the windows down the corridor made the left side and most of the front see-through as she turned to him and asked, her voice almost steady, “Hold my sweater?”
“Of course.” Tyler exchanged the backpack for the sweater, and Daria fled into the restroom.
Coming out a few minutes later, Daria said, “Sorry about that; I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much.”
“Not at all, I was just worried it might drive you off. I don’t know why, but it just seemed last week that, well….”
“I know, that’s never happened to me before. You?”
“Not really,” Tyler agreed. “Where are you from?”
By the time they got back to his office, Daria had given Tyler her basic background. There was no one waiting, so when they sat he gave Daria an equally brief run-down. “Let’s see, I’m from a suburb of Pittsburgh, and I got my degrees in art and music from Indiana of Pennsylvania. My father’s families are old colonial Puritans from Massachusetts and Connecticut, and Baptists from Rhode Island. They migrated southwest until they ended in Pittsburgh before the Civil War. They all worked in the steel industry, fortunately for them as mill operators and then owners until Carnegie bought out my great-grandfathers. So, my grandfathers became executives for US Steel. My father served in the army in Europe in the ‘Fifties, where he met my mother, who was Danish. My Danish great-grandfathers and grandfathers were developers. My mother was the youngest of four – the two oldest, boys, were conscripted by the Nazis in 1944, and were both killed on the Eastern Front. My aunt took over two-thirds of her parents’ holdings, my mother the rest.”
Tyler sighed. “I had two younger siblings, a sister and brother. They and my parents were killed in a car accident in January of Seventy-eight – they had dropped me off after the break and were going home.”
Daria placed her hands on his left wrist in sympathy.
“So, my aunt runs the Danish-based investments, and my father’s business stuff was converted to investments, like most of my grandparents’ – they died a few years ago.” He smiled wanly. “And here I am, trying to become an academic instead of a corporate executive.” Considering what her parents did, Tyler did not worry about her just being a gold digger. Daria felt a bit reassured as well, although she was severely underestimating his families’ wealth.
After a moment’s silence, Daria said, “We can discuss this stuff Friday. What can you tell me so that I can tell my friends about class?”
“Not a lot, but Schmidt did give me some things I could pass along.”
-80s-
While Daria admitted to her mistake with the blouse that evening in her dorm room, she of course did not mention flashing Tyler. Jane and especially Quinn teased her about not realizing she needed to wear something under such material, but Daria merely took their teasing in stride. Quinn also teased her twin about the fact that she had a date before Quinn herself, although Quinn was going out to dinner followed by the new movie in town (‘Airplane!’) with a freshman business major in her English Composition class. Daria, Jane, and Jennifer would be going as well, but promised not to bother Quinn.
Neither of the girls realized that Tyler had walked Daria all the way to the dorm after orchestra practice. Daria had smiled when he offered his hand on their approach to the front door; instead of shaking it, he had kissed the back of her hand and then back of her fingers. That did account for her actual smile when she had reached her room, where Quinn and Jennifer had been waiting with Jane to ambush her with questions.
-80s-
On the whole, Thursday and Friday went fairly normally for Daria. Her friends in Musicology (as well as the professor and a few of the other students) noticed that Green was now sitting at the end of the second row and Daria was sitting next to him. Students that questioned Daria over the next several classes were all simply sent to see Tyler for help – those that did, or those who sought out advice from older students (or worked with students who had done at least one of those things), did better than those who didn’t. Of course, some of the successful students studied hard by themselves, but those who did not get help often overstudied the wrong things. Tyler had not only listened to Dr. Schmidt, but he had also taken the time to talk with upper-class students and made sure to pass on the same hints and advice to all the students, not just Daria.
The band had marched down to the football stadium (down a steep hill from the old gym) and spent ninety minutes learning the opening three minutes of the halftime show (they only learned one ten-minute show, and would be performing it several times at home and a few weekends on the road). Then they had the much harder job of marching up the steep hill to the gym and then another to back of the music building while tired. The next week, weather permitting, they would be playing for forty minutes and practicing on the field for fifty, the rest of the time getting into formations and marching.
After marching up that step hill, even though she was not one of the band members really puffing or panting, Daria resolved if she did not make the concert wind ensemble (which met both semesters), she would definitely become just a violin major the next fall.
Since it was now so late on a Friday, Tyler could park his car behind the music building (this was built into a hill, so the upper parking lot was set between the levels of the third and fourth floors – the public entrance to the auditorium was on this level and was where the band marched from – giving them two hills to march up to and down from). After the whole band was in place, it marched in place for a few seconds and then the drum major blew the whistle and the drum cadence stopped a few beats later rather than repeating from the beginning.
The band, majorettes, color guard, and band front started milling about, Daria saw Tyler at the far end of the parking lot. She was surprised to see he drove an 8 year old AMC Hornet (he later told her he had bought it used when he was 16). She didn’t bother putting the piccolo away, she just walked over and said, “Take me off this hill.”
“Did you decide where you wanted to eat?”
“After this, how about something like a steak house?”
“As soon as the mob clears, we’ll be off.”
-8-s-
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tyler asked as they walked towards the steak house.
“I think so,” Daria replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I have a few blisters tomorrow, though. I just need some protein.”
The drinking age in Delaware, unlike some states, was 21, so Tyler didn’t bother ordering wine or beer for himself. Daria chatted about her family, especially Quinn, and Tyler talked about his music, art, and interest in history.
“Not literature?” Daria asked at one point.
“Not as such,” was the answer. “Most graduate work in literature, English or otherwise, is more about applying theories than discussing the actual work. And, of course, you’re expected to learn canon – usually canon pieces are important for good reasons, but not always interesting to read, never mind having to apply theories you don’t care about to.”
“Really?”
Tyler shrugged. “I suppose it depends on the course and the professor, but that’s been my limited experience so far.”
“I might still want to get a degree in Creative Writing, but that stops at the Master’s.”
“Yeah, the MFA is the terminal degree for that.”
Daria nodded. “Getting a degree in Literature doesn’t sound as appealing.”
Tyler shrugged. “Who knows, you might like that aspect once you’re exposed to it.”
Daria decided she could splurge on a dessert, and while they were eating their cheesecake, she said, “I’m coaching Quinn in the morning for an audition she’s doing in the afternoon, and then seeing ‘Airplane!’ with Jane and Jennifer tomorrow night. I guess I’ll be in the practice rooms most of the week end otherwise if one is empty.”
“Professor Schmidt is the faculty building manager, and for some reason he gave me two keys to my office. If you don’t think it would cause too much talk, would you like the second key?”
Daria bit her lip in thought, and then said, “I…it might be too soon for that.”
“Okay,” was the simple response. “I’ll be there in the morning, but I need to get some painting done – it’s been a couple of weeks.”
-80s-
Tyler drove Daria up to the music building so she could return her piccolo, and then drove her down to the dorm. This time, she exchanged a light kiss before facing the teasing from Jane. Quinn would wait until the next day.
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