SCENE 1 (Lawndale High, the next day)
(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Jane standing on a raised platform next to a school building. She's painting a large mural which looks part-Michelangelo, part-Picasso, part-Goya. Below her, we see Daria leaning against a part of the wall that isn't covered with paint.)
DARIA: (smirking) Then what happened?
JANE: Well, first your mom had to be enlightened about the way an art class is run...
(Fade-out. Fade-in to flashback of the previous night. Helen is standing at one of the tables, now wearing a smock. Both she and her neighbor are working with soft, reddish-brown clay on top of wooden boards. Her neighbor is already deeply absorbed in her sculpture: molding it with her fingers, carving pieces of it with a knife, or wetting it with a squirt bottle when the clay becomes too dry. Helen, meanwhile, struggles to make her lump into a Classical Greek figure -- she has a model set before her. She keeps trying to stick arms onto the body, only to watch with frustration as they grow too heavy and break off. At last she reaches her limit.)
HELEN: Damn it! (smashes the figure to pulp with her fists.)
(Her neighbor scoots away from her a tad, eyes her warily. Just then, Amanda flutters over.)
AMANDA: (soothing) Oh Helen, still haven't made peace with the clay, have you?
(Helen gets a look of panic and immediately begins molding a new form.)
HELEN: Oh... well, (weak chuckle) I think I'm getting the hang of it now. (Bt. more anxious) Look, I know I don't seem very good at this, but I did spend three hours late last night watching "Sculpture and You" on public broadcasting and I think I picked up a few --
AMANDA: Helen, it's all right.
HELEN: (pleading look) I mean please don't make me leave just because I'm not as good as everyone else. This is the last class I could find available and if I can't stay I'll lose the b--
AMANDA: Helen, Helen, there's no need for excuses, here.
HELEN: (wilting a little) It's just... I'll get better, I know I will. I pick things up very fast and I've never failed at anything I've put my mind to. Never. (Bt. suddenly irritated.) But shouldn't you be teaching us?? I mean I really don't understand why we're paying you good money to just --
AMANDA: Helen! (instantly reverts back to serenity.) The point of this art class isn't to pander to an archetypal standard of perfection. It's to express the inner you. (reaches over to pat Helen's cheek as she says this.)
HELEN: The what? (jerks away.) What kind of art class is that? What's the point of taking a class in something if you can never get good at it?? Like her. (points to her neighbor.)
WOMAN: (matter-of-fact) I've taken art classes every summer and minored in studio art back in college.
HELEN: (irritated) Oh well aren't we awfully high and mighty?!
WOMAN: (to Amanda) Could I pleeeese change tables??
HELEN: (tossing her hands in the air) Well I guess I have no choice but to stick with this class. But let me tell you, Amanda, I am not happy with the structure of...
(Meanwhile Amanda's normally placid face looks a bit weary.)
JANE: (present off screen voice-over) Let's just say she still doesn't get it.
(Fade-out. Fade-in to a short time later in the flashback. Helen is now at work on a different sculpture, similar to the one her neighbor's been making. Although she handles the clay in a timid manner -- poking it softly or taking off small chunks instead of kneading it -- she looks fairly relaxed.)
JANE: (present off screen voice-over) Even so, she seemed to be into it for a while. (Pause) Until...
DARIA: (present off screen voice-over) Yes?
JANE: Disaster struck.
(Helen keeps eyeing her neighbor's work as she sculpts. Finally her neighbor catches her, stops what she's doing.)
WOMAN: (irritated) You know, if you want sculpting tips, all you have to do is ask.
(Helen pulls away from her work. Looks at the woman, outraged.)
HELEN: Are you accusing me of copying?? Because I'll have you know that I have never copied a day in my life. I'm perfectly capable of learning how to sculpt on my own!
(With that, she flings her hand at her neighbor, forgetting that she's been holding a rolled-up piece of clay. The clay flies from her grasp and hits her neighbor's face. For a few seconds both Helen and the other woman are too shocked to speak. Then the woman becomes enraged.)
WOMAN: Oh that is it. You've been pissing me off all evening! You want to watch me handle clay?? (sinks her hand into the putty-like substance.) Then watch this.
(She heaves a fistful at Helen, which splatters on her face and on the front of her smock. Helen stands there for a moment, stunned, before becoming equally enraged. She takes a large mass of clay and hurls it at her neighbor; it hits her neighbor's shoulder and even gets on another person's face. Her neighbor retaliates, and pretty soon we have war. Helen and the other woman battle it out while everyone else watches with fascination -- even Amanda.)
DARIA: (present off screen voice-over) So that's where that dried brown stuff on her face came from.
(Fade-out. Fade-in to the present shot of Daria and Jane.)
DARIA: This is too easy. She'll be out of there before the next class starts.
JANE: (smirking wickedly) Meanwhile, how're things on your end, my cub reporter?
(Daria blushes. Fade-out. Fade-in to flashback taking place an hour or two ago. We see a close-up of the Lowdown editor. He's holding Daria's article and wearing a snaky smile.)
EDITOR: Y' know, Daria...
(Cut to wide shot of him and Our Heroine.)
DARIA: (not fooled by his b.s. demeanor) Yes?
EDITOR: Your article's really got oomph, it really does...
DARIA: Yes??
EDITOR: Buuuuuut... it's kind of too oomphy, if you know what I mean.
DARIA: No.
EDITOR: We-eell... see, we're a paper that likes oomph, but good oomph, the right amount of oomph...
DARIA: Is there an ape in here?
EDITOR: Huh? (Bt) Now you see Larry over there?
(Cut to shot of Larry. He's sitting at a computer, but turned to the side so that his long hairy legs are propped up on one of the tables. He wears a backward baseball cap and a lazy expression, and is busy inhaling a huge slice of pizza. Resume shot of Daria and the editor.)
DARIA: I've been trying not to.
EDITOR: Now he is someone who can produce good oomph. Look at one of his articles: (points to one in the copy he's holding.) "Never Fear -- Fun Time's Here"! It's about how you can still enjoy yourself even while you're at school. He only wrote it in twenty minutes, but he still managed to give it a message and make it enjoyable.
DARIA: And also managed to misspell half his words in the process.
EDITOR: A minor technicality.
DARIA: (reading) "Fun tip number one: pour a lot of blue and yellow dye into the swimming pool to make it spirited." (Bt) Oh yeah, that'll make my day.
EDITOR: Yeah, it's really inspiring. See now, if you'd just taken a page from Larry...
(Beat. Daria groans softly.)
DARIA: Listen, I just wrote about what I see. You did know that's how I write when you fell all over me a few days ago, didn't you??
EDITOR: Hey, all I knew was that you got A's in all your English classes and Mr. O'Neill thinks you're some kind of god. That was enough for me.
(Daria rolls her eyes -- "Figures.")
EDITOR: But if you don't feel like brightening up your writing, that's okay. 'Cause we could still really use you on the paper.
JANE: (present off screen voice-over) For?
(Cut to present shot of Daria and Jane.)
DARIA: For survey taking. (holds one up to Jane.)
JANE: (reading) Which is your favorite topical skin cleanser? Oxy... Clearasil... (shakes her head.) Good lord.
DARIA: (deadpan) Well, which one?
JANE: So, is this their attempt to bore you off the staff?
DARIA: Probably. But whatever they do, I'll stick it out. (cocks an eyelid.) Unless they make me fashion reporter.
(cut to: )
SCENE 2 (Helen's SUV, the following week)
(Shot of the SUV driving along the freeway in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Cut to inside shot. Helen is on the cell phone, wearing a contrite, conflicted expression.)
HELEN: (mustering a crooning tone) Hello? Amanda?
AMANDA: (from the receiver. warm) Helen. Somehow I sensed you would call.
HELEN: Um, right. (Bt) Listen, I'm sorry, but I really don't think I can make it this evening. I've just got so much paperwork to go through, which I have to have ready by Friday, and... um, I just wanted to let you... know. (glances at a tall stack of files on the passenger side seat.)
AMANDA: Now, Helen, are you still upset because you don't feel sure of your creative capabilities? Or because Patty called you a nasty, gutless, whining sellout?
(Helen's face turns a little pale.)
HELEN: Um... (shakes her head. more vehement.) No, no, really. I'm a busy woman, Amanda. Maybe you can afford to drop everything and flitter across the country on a whim, but I've got two important cases coming up that need my attention. (voice rising) I'm not going to make it to class every week, and I certainly can't to this one.
(Pause)
AMANDA: Very well. But it's too bad... somehow it feels like you could use this class more than anyone.
(Helen opens her mouth, ready to protest, then slowly closes it. Her face takes on a reflective look.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 3 (Lane residence, later that evening)
(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Jane walking past the tables, holding a basket of surplus art supplies, which she offers to each occupant. As she's doing so, she glances off screen.)
JANE: (under her breath) Back for Round Two, I see.
(Cut to brief shot of Helen. She's standing at her own table -- everyone else having chosen to be a safe distance away -- and continues to work with clay. Actually, struggle would be a better word. Jane shakes her head, retreats into her corner. A few seconds later, we see Trent approach her from the stairs, guitar in hand.)
JANE: Don't you have rehearsal?
TRENT: Hey, the gigs pay better here. (Bt) Besides, there's more entertainment. (nods toward Helen.)
JANE: (smirking) I'll say.
(Cut to shot of Amanda, roaming around the room, observing the various sculptures in progress. She stops to watch one man hack the bark off of a dead log. The man swings his axe with swift, decisive strokes, always landing on target.)
AMANDA: (admiring) Paul, it's so noble of you to return life to a thing that has died. What will you call this piece?
PAUL: Satan's Death Stare. (continues hacking.)
AMANDA: Oh.
(She quickly moves on to the next person. We see that it's Greg, at work on a formless multi-media project of clay, plaster, and paint.)
AMANDA: Why Greg, what a creative blend of materials.
GREG: (smiling) Thanks, Amanda.
(Amanda observes him for a few seconds longer, before turning to the next person -- Helen. Her serene look gives way to a benevolent frown.)
AMANDA: Helen, Helen... (shakes her head.)
(Helen looks up, startled. She's been so absorbed in her work, she lost all track of time and her surroundings.)
AMANDA: Helen, when I look at your sculpture, I see clay that's... trapped. (clenches her fists for emphasis.) Repressed. It has no spirit.
HELEN: (losing all patience) Well then what do you want?! (smashes the structure into a formless heap.) I mean why bother to shape the clay at all if you're so worried about it being trapped?!
AMANDA: Yes, but...
HELEN: I mean clay has to be trapped somehow if it's to become a sculpture.
(Cut to shot of Jane and Trent, watching Helen. Jane frowns mildly.)
JANE: Y' know it's weird: I kind of feel sorry for her.
TRENT: Hmm, yeah.
(Resume shot of Helen and Amanda. Helen heaves a sharp sigh and rolls her eyes in an "I give up" manner. She runs her hands along her smock, trying to wipe off the dried clay.)
AMANDA: (soothing) Ah, but you see, there's a difference between "formed" and "trapped." Clay that is trapped has no spirit. I'm still seeing you try to make something that comes from outside of you.
HELEN: I just don't understand -- how in God's name do you make something from inside of you??
AMANDA: All you have to do is clear your mind. (closes her eyes, spreads out her arms.) Let your thoughts be free...
(Helen watches her, looking extremely confused. Just then Greg comes over.)
GREG: 'Scuse me, Amanda, I don't mean to intrude. But before Helen starts molding from her mind, maybe she needs some pointers.
(Amanda nods in agreement. Greg walks over to the opposite side of the table from Helen. Looks her in the eye and smiles.)
GREG: See, now, you're being too timid with the clay. The clay is your friend, not your enemy. (his smile deepens, compelling Helen to smile back at him.) Now just take big slabs and press them together like this. (demonstrates, working the clay hard with his long fingers.) Make sure your framework is really solid. Worry about smoothing it out later. (Bt) Now why don't you try?
HELEN: O-kay... (takes small lumps of clay and starts pressing them together.)
GREG: Hmm, almost. But...
(He reaches over and takes Helen's hands in his, then gently spreads out her fingers to show that she needs to take larger pieces. Helen nods, a little disconcerted. She takes fist-sized chunks and presses one on top of the other. Greg nods with approval.)
GREG: That's it. You do that, and your structure, whatever it is, will be a lot stronger.
HELEN: Um, right. (Bt) Th-thank you.
GREG: No problem.
(He returns to his table. Amanda puts a hand on Helen's shoulder.)
AMANDA: There now, is that better? It's as I was telling Janey about geometric --
JANE: (off screen) Would you stop with the geometric versus swirls, already?!
(Amanda starts chuckling. Helen does, too, a little.)
AMANDA: Children. (shakes her head.)
HELEN: Oh, yes. (Bt. kneads together the two chunks of clay.) You know the only reason I'm in this class is to prove a point to Daria. (tears off another two lumps of clay from the large heap.) To teach her the importance of extending herself and trying new things. (presses the lumps forcefully against her new structure.) I mean she can't just spend every day at home sitting in front of the T.V., can she?? (presses her hands hard against either side of the structure, so that it forms a narrow column shape.)
AMANDA: Television drains the soul of its creativity, leaving a shell of nothingness.
HELEN: (not hearing her. irritation creeping in) And even if I never have a right to ask about her life again, at least she'll be broadening her horizons. (continues to mold for several more seconds, before digging her fingers into the clay.) Dammit -- shut me out, will she?! (twists the structure around, tears pieces off and presses them back on again in a haphazard manner.) What's so wrong with me wanting to have a silly little chat with her every once in a while?? What is she afraid of?! What did I ever do to --?!
AMANDA: Helen! That's amazing!
HELEN: Huh?
(She stops molding and steps away. Looks at the sculpture, which is now twisted and bent in an interesting pattern, similar to the shape of a wild mushroom. It still bears the imprints of Helen's fingers.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 4 (Lawndale High, the next day)
(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Jane, Daria, and the 3 Js at the wall where Jane's been painting. Jane is sitting on the raised platform, legs dangling over the edge, while Daria stands on the ground, in the midst of conducting a survey.)
DARIA: (extreme deadpan) So Sarah Michelle Gellar is the biggest "betty" on TV today?
JOEY/JEFFY/JAMIE: Oh yeah!!!
DARIA: And you think she should be president of the United States?
(The 3 Js, nod vehemently. Daria stifles a groan.)
DARIA: And your reason would be...?
JEFFY: (doing a fist pump) 'Cause she kicks ass, man!!!
JAMIE: Ye-ahhhhh!!
JOEY: We wouldn't, like, even need an army 'cause she could, like, drive a stake through the bad guys' hearts and get that other chick to cast a spell an' kill all the other bad guys!
JEFFY/JAMIE: Yeah!!
JANE: (sardonic) And who would be vice-president?
(The guys looks at each other, pause to think. Then: )
JOEY/ JEFFY/ JAMIE: Quinn!!!!
(Daria rolls her eyes. Jane smirks.)
DARIA: Now there would be a meeting of the minds.
JANE: (to the 3 Js) Just vice-president? Gee, she must not mean much to you if she only gets second-place status.
(The 3 Js get a look of panic.)
JOEY: No, no! The only reason she's not president --
JAMIE: -- is 'cause, um, we don't want her to get too stressed-out.
JEFFY: With making war an' stuff, yeah. (nods vehemently.)
(Jane's smirk widens. Daria exhales sharply and rolls her eyes.)
DARIA: I don't suppose it occurred to you that neither she nor Sarah Michelle Gellar is old enough to be president. Or that Sarah Michelle Gellar is an actress -- not a vampire slayer. Or that you guys will be voting in a few years, so therefore your ignorance of today's issues can only be described as "inexcusable." Even dangerous.
(long pause)
JOEY: (frowning) You really know how to take the fun out of things, Daria.
(He and the other two Js leave. Daria tosses one of the survey sheets into the air, and she and Jane watch it float to the ground.)
JANE: Show a little enthusiasm, why don't you?
DARIA: (irritated) Don't tell me you're on their side.
JANE: (scoffing) Those walking hormones?? (Bt) I meant why are you just reading these boring surveys to people?
DARIA: Because I can't trust them to know how to read, themselves.
JANE: C'mon, Daria -- "Who are TV's 'betties' and 'hotties'?" You're capable of better.
DARIA: (slightly defensive) Hey, in case you've forgotten, I got this assigned to me. If I refuse, the cretins who run the Lowdown might kick me off, and that means...
JANE: (nodding) Yeah, yeah -- bet.
DARIA: (cocking an eyelid) So how're things on the other end?
JANE: Well, your mother was marginally less embarrassing last night than the previous week. (sees Daria's worried look.) Marginally.
(Daria sighs.)
DARIA: Great. With my luck, she'll become hooked and never want to leave.
JANE: Hmm, yeah. (Bt) I'd offer to sabotage her work, but I think whatever I'd do would be an improvement.
DARIA: (resigned) In any case, it looks like I'm stuck.
JANE: Yep.
DARIA: You know I wouldn't mind being on the paper so much if they'd give me something normal to do, like write an article. A lot of things go on at this school that have never been brought to light. (Bt. reflective) That need to be.
JANE: (vague surprise) Do I detect social conscience in your voice?
DARIA: (reddening a bit) Um, no. (Bt) But these surveys are a complete waste of space and ink. I hate giving them.
JANE: So don't.
DARIA: (annoyed) I just told you --
JANE: Hey, they said to give surveys. (smirks wickedly.) They never said which surveys, did they?
(Beat. Daria returns the smirk.)
DARIA: Hmm... you know I feel a twisted idea coming on.
(She turns over one of the surveys, removes a pen from her backpack, and starts jotting down some new questions. Jane watches with approval.)
JANE: Ooooh, very wicked, my friend.
(Several seconds later, just as Daria's finishing up, we see Kevin and Brittany walk past.)
BRITTANY: Kevvy, look at the wall!
KEVIN: Yeah, babe, cooool.
(Beat)
JANE: (calling) Hey, you two lovebirds...
DARIA: How'd you like to answer a survey?
(cut to: )
SCENE 5 (Morgendorffer house, evening at the beginning of the next week)
(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Daria and Quinn sitting at the kitchen table, while Helen rushes back and forth, preparing the lasagna. As she's setting it down on the table, she notices that Quinn is reading the latest issue of the Lowdown. Looks at it, then at Daria.)
HELEN: Daria, why didn't you tell us the school paper was out??
DARIA: (deadpan) My humility got the better of me.
HELEN: Well I want to see what you've written.
DARIA: (going slightly red) Um...
(Quinn flips through the pages, scanning each one.)
QUINN: I don't see you anywhere, Daria.
(Helen looks at Daria, raises her brows in an exasperated "Care to explain yourself?" manner. Daria groans.)
DARIA: I am on staff, just not as a regular reporter.
HELEN: Then what do you do?
QUINN: (eyes fixed on a page) God (chuckles) who gives these surveys?? They are sooooo weird. "If the Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync fought to the death, who would you want to see killed and why?" (Bt. smirks at Daria.) Oh. It was you.
DARIA: (deadpan) Surprise.
(Pause. Helen looks at her, indeed, with genuine surprise.)
HELEN: Surveys?
DARIA: Were you expecting the society column?
HELEN: (shaking her head) I don't understand: why didn't they let you write something? Surely they must know how talented you are.
DARIA: (bitterness creeping in) All they care about is that every writer's viewpoint matches their own. And mine definitely does not.
HELEN: But --
DARIA: Look, I'm contributing to the paper, and I'm interacting with other people. (pointed look at Helen.) That's really the only thing that matters, isn't it?
HELEN: Um... (looks like she wants to say something else, then changes her mind.) Well sure it is.
(She sits down at the table to cut the lasagna. Daria smirks -- now it's her turn to go on the offensive.)
DARIA: So... Jane was telling me that your art class --
(Helen drops the spatula, forces a chuckle.)
HELEN: Oh-ho, Jane! I can only imagine what she's told you. Probably that I look a little absurd...
DARIA: That's putting it mildly.
HELEN: But, um... (frowns a little) whatever she's said, just remember that it's probably because she's an artist, and she's not used to seeing people with less experience work with the materials.
DARIA: (not buying it) If you say so.
(Just then, Jake wanders in. He sits down at his usual place.)
HELEN: But I am enjoying that class. Really I am.
DARIA: Sure.
(Helen picks up the spatula and begins serving the lasagna.)
HELEN: (hesitant. reflective) I mean yes, it's true that I have to alter my work schedule to fit it in... which is something I'm still not comfortable with... and I hate being away from all of you. (pauses for a moment to gauge her family's response -- sees that Jake looks preoccupied and Quinn mildly interested.) But even so... when I think about going, I get a little... excited.
DARIA: (surprised) Really?
HELEN: Yes. (Pause) I mean, it's sort of fun getting to talk to people. Well... er... (recalls that many of these "talks" haven't been too friendly.) some of them. And I like getting to create something with my own two hands rather than have it be pre-made and packaged for me. (smirks slightly.) Not to mention getting a little messy from the clay --
QUINN: (catching her last words) Eww... messy?? (shudders a little.) That does not sound like any class I would like.
(Pause)
HELEN: (an edge in her voice) Well then I guess you should be glad you're not the one taking it. (Bt) Look, I'm as surprised as you by how it's been growing on me. I never thought of myself as the artistic type. (Bt) Did you, Jake?
(Pause. Then Jake revives.)
JAKE: Huh? (Bt) Sorry, sweetheart, I wasn't listening.
HELEN: (icier tone) Oh? Got something more important on your mind?
JAKE: Important? 'Course not. (chuckles.) Nothing's more important than you.
HELEN: (placated) Aww... Well anyw--
JAKE: But now that you mention it: Helen, could I run a pitch by you I've been wanting to make to a client?? He said he was looking to market a new educational toy, so I thought: what about math problems as pets!
(Beat)
HELEN: (a tad startled) Well I guess, bu--
JAKE: You can thank Quinn for my inspiration. (winks in her direction.) It'd be kind of like Pokémon -- you'd wear one around your neck and feed it and take care of it...
QUINN: (pleased by his praise) Ooh, Dad, that'd be neat. You know I was just thinking the other day how much pi is like a cute little animal.
DARIA: (sardonic) 'Cause eating it a la mode gives you that warm 'n' fuzzy feeling?
QUINN: (scoffing) Not pie -- pi. That squiggly thing that marks the circumference of a circle. Y' know how it's got those cute little legs...
JAKE: Hey yeah -- it does, doesn't it? I hadn't even thought of that... (pauses to make a mental note of it.) And those higher power numbers, the little ones that go next to the big ones -- they're cute too, aren't they?
QUINN: (wrinkling her nose in thought) Yeah... they're cute. But pi is cute. If pi were on the Endangered Species list, I'd be, like, really upset.
DARIA: Heaven forbid.
JAKE: (to Helen) But anyway, I really think this idea could go somewhere! But I thought I'd ask you how to give the big sell 'cause you're always so good at that assertive, getting-people-to-pay-attention crap. (Bt) So what d' you think??
(Pause)
HELEN: Well... your idea sounds good... and you have the right amount of enthusiasm. (Pause) I don't think you'll have any problem getting your pitch across.
JAKE: Great, I was hoping you'd say that. (Bt) So sorry I interrupted -- let's get back to what we were talking about before. Your art class, or something -- right, Helen??
DARIA: (droll) I believe so.
JAKE: What were you gonna say?
(Pause)
HELEN: Nothing.
(cut to: )
SCENE 6 (Lane residence, the next evening)
(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Helen working on a big wire frame, which stands atop a long wooden board. To one side of the frame we see a heap of cheesecloth and a big bucket of water. Helen leans down, picks up a sack of plaster dust, and pours it into the water Then, as it bubbles and fizzes, she reaches for a spoon and stirs the water until it turns gray. Just then, Jane appears bearing extra art supplies.)
JANE: So you've given up on clay, huh?
HELEN: (a tad defensive, remembering what Daria told her) It was just getting too easy for me. Plaster requires more planning, and therefore should be much more interesting to work with.
JANE: Uh, yeah. (glances at the wire structure, then at the bucket.) You sure you know what you're doing?
HELEN: Of course. Your mother and Greg taught me all there is to know, so I really don't think I'll have any problems.
JANE: (shrugging) Whatever you say.
(She starts to leave. Just then, Helen notices that several wires have detached themselves from her framework, causing it to split open.)
HELEN: Dammit! I thought I'd -- (seizes a pair of pliers and hastily reattaches the wires.)
JANE: Need help?
HELEN: No. I'm fine. You can just run along, this is all a part of my learning process. (returns to bending wires. grumbles.) Not that some people would care...
(Again, Jane delays leaving, having overheard this last bit.)
HELEN: (bending harder, grumbling) Oh no, don't listen to what I have to say, don't care about what's going on with me.... (some of the wires detach. Helen slams down the pliers.) Dammit why won't these stupid things stay put?!
(Her outburst has caught the attention of several other students, many of whom look at each other and nod a "She's at it again." Meanwhile, Jane notices that Helen slamming down the pliers has caused the bucket of plaster to jiggle... and veer dangerously close to the edge of the table.)
JANE: Um, Mrs. Morgendorffer...
HELEN: (oblivious, now bending the wires with her fingers) I mean I try and I try... I want to help them out, I want to be there for them, but do I ever get that kind of consideration in return? From any of them?? (cuts a finger on one of the wires.) Owww! Dammit!!
JANE: Here's a rag. (reaches into her basket and pulls one out. hands it to Helen.) Look, watch the plaster, or it'll tip over.
HELEN: Fine. (picks up the bucket, whose contents have changed from thin gray water to soft gray mud. sets it on the opposite end of the board from her wire structure.)
(Jane exhales softly and turns to leave. Helen looks at the structure, tears of frustration filling her eyes.)
HELEN: Damn, I hate this thing. Why has everything I've set out to do lately gone wrong?? (in a burst of anger, takes the pliers and beats them against the frame, warping its shape.) I tell Jake I don't mind if he helps Quinn with math, and now they have their own little (whack) bond, and they just ignore me. (whack, whack)
(The wooden board jiggles with every blow, causing the plaster to do the same. Meanwhile the opposite side of the board, the side with the structure, is creeping over the edge of the table. Jane's moved a distance away, but when she turns in Helen's direction, she catches what's going on.)
HELEN: I ask Daria to tell me about her life and she threatens to close herself off for good. (whack, whack) I mean it's reached the point where I don't know what to do anymore! (preparing for another blow, she presses her elbow down sharply on the vulnerable corner of the board.)
JANE: (calling) Dammit, look out!
(But her warning is useless. Like something shot out of a catapult, the bucket of plaster flies up and overturns directly on Helen's head. For several seconds she remains paralyzed, as a thick gray substance seeps down her hair, face, and shoulders. At last she reaches up, yanks the bucket off of her head, and tosses it to the ground.)
[Split screen of Daria conducting a survey, Helen in the midst of a clay war.]
You are now entering commercial HELL. Please keep your seat belt securely fastened. You are about to see some of the lamest commercials put on television.
You are now leaving commercial HELL. Aren't you happy you survived?