SCENE 1 (Morgendorffer house, late evening)
(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of the living room. Daria sits on the couch, reading a book, while Quinn stalks about behind her.)
QUINN: (nose wrinkled, Phelps imitation) "Yes, well now you're presented with a new challenge, aren't you? An' I know what's best for you 'cause I, like, know everything an' you know nothing, don't you?" That jerk! He makes me so mad! (She collapses on the couch, face down, and pounds on the cushion.)
DARIA: (cocking an eyelid) The painful life of a genius.
QUINN: (raising her head) Leave me alone, Daria! No one tells Quinn Morgendorffer what to do!! No one!!! (Bt) Well okay, Sandi did, but I didn't really follow her; I just pretended to so she wouldn't think I was disloyal, but all a long I was just biding my time 'til --
DARIA: (annoyed) Listen, that teacher of yours, he didn't tell you what to do. Ignoring your utter lack of experience, he handed you a top-level position. No matter how good you might be at math, that counts as a break.
QUINN: You don't have to tell me, Smarty. Like, I know what a break is!
DARIA: Having had more than your fair share.
QUINN: Well I don't care! (face trembles a little.) Just when it seemed like things were getting good for me, just when it seemed like stuff would go back to normal... (The rest of her sentence is lost in a sudden gasp-sob.)
DARIA: Normal as in "popularity: good, thinking: bad," right? (When she sees that Quinn is too choked up to respond, her voice takes on a gentler tone.) You still believe that? Don't you remember what I said when you first got glasses? (Pause. sigh.) Look, so don't go to the other practices, then. Return to your fashion minions: they're probably lost without you.
QUINN: But even so they might still find out I went to one of the geek brigade practices and then they'll think I'm really into math -- which I'm not, by the way -- and then I'd never live it down! And then they might go back to Sandi.
DARIA: Aren't you and she --?
QUINN: Sure, Sandi and I've been getting along great lately -- almost like sisters. But she hasn't said anything about rejoining the Fashion Club and she's not around as much anymore. (Bt) Which means she must be up to something.
DARIA: Of course.
QUINN: (blinking back tears) It'll be just like it was during the Fashion Club Elections! Only this time when I get abandoned, I won't have cheerleading to fall back on. (buries her face in the couch.) I'm doomed. Doomed, I tell you!
DARIA: Yes. Doomed to follow a path that could bring you future success. (Bt) Or would it?
QUINN: (lifting her head slightly) Huh?
(Beat)
DARIA: (coy) How do we really know you're so good at math?
QUINN: (sitting up) What d' you mean?? You've seen me in action, haven't you??
DARIA: I've seen that you've gotten a few math problems correct. But what does that prove? (can't resist smirking.) How do I know your success isn't just a hoax perpetuated by you and your math instructor?
QUINN: (wounded) It's not! I really am good. I give poor pathetic math problems a second chance at life!
DARIA: Huh??
QUINN: Broken and unbalanced, the numbers cry out: "Quinn! Quinn! Only you can fix me!" And I strive to find an ensemble that works for them.
DARIA: O-kay.
QUINN: And I'm better at finding a number ensemble than anyone else. So you see?? I am good!
DARIA: No, I don't see. A few problems right: all just dumb luck in my opinion.
(She chooses this opportunity to stand up and saunter out of the room, hoping that Quinn will take the bait. Quinn scowls after her.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 2 (Barry's house, one afternoon after school)
(Shot of the outside: a nondescript split-level house. Cut to close-up of a cute little squirrel with shiny eyes. After a few seconds, when the squirrel fails to move, we realize that it is actually stuffed. Zoom out to show an entire array of stuffed squirrels and birds, arranged in a faux nature setting along a wall of the dining room, where Barry and the math brigaders have gathered. Jodie views the scene with a slight frown.)
JODIE: Barry? Is your mother okay with you spreading your hobby throughout the house?
BARRY: My mom's been touring the country as a Captain Janeway look-alike, so she hasn't noticed. (leans forward, attempts a "Come hither" expression that fails miserably.) What do you think, Quinn??
(Pan over to show Quinn, looking pale and distressed.)
QUINN: Oh God, those cute animals. Those poor cute animals!
BARRY: Oh boy! I knew you'd like it!
QUINN: Let's just get this meeting over with, okay?? (groans.) How does this geek squad work??
(Quinn's insult appears to fly right over Barry, Clarence, and Squiggley's heads, but it causes Jodie to roll her eyes.)
JODIE: (like she can't believe she's explaining this to Quinn of all people) There are five main chairs on the mathletics squad, plus chairs for the alternates. Barry was first chair, I was second, Clarence third, Melvin fourth, and Cheryl fifth. (with slight annoyance.) We thought when Cheryl left with mono, an alternate would fill in for her. But since you're here --
QUINN: (cringing with disgust) Do we all have to wear geeky pads and a helmet like that guy?? (She points to Clarence, who looks as though he's ready for the Demolition Derby.)
BARRY: Clarence likes to be protected from paper cut injuries. Those corners only look innocent.
CLARENCE: Y-y-yeah.
SQUIGGLEY: Maybe I should get a helmet, too. (rubs his pencil-injured ear.)
JODIE: (to Quinn) But anyway, as first chair, it's important for you to get our team off to a good start. You'll have to be on the ball, sharp-minded, calm under pressure. (wary.) Think you could handle that?? (Quinn gives a slight, apathetic nod.) We begin with a one-on-one section, followed by a group --
QUINN: (bored, curt) Look, all I wanna know is what's at stake?? Like, who's really gonna care if we don't win??
JODIE: Mr. Phelps will care.
QUINN: (eyes narrowing) If he cares, I don't care.
JODIE: I don't know, all right? (lowers her voice.) Look, no one watches our tournaments. Not even Mack, and he's my boyfriend. And truthfully, with all of the other stuff going on in my life, this is the club I care least about.
QUINN: Ooooh great.
BARRY: You gotta help us Quinn! We're meeting Grove Hills a week after our match against Cumberland! We hafta beat 'em!
JODIE: Beat Grove Hills? (sits up straighter.) I'm there.
CLARENCE: (holds up a piece of paper) Th-th-they s-s-sent us an im-mim-mim-tim-mim -
QUINN: Could we try not sounding like we're trapped in a stupid freezer? Gimme that. (grabs the paper from him.)
(As the three guys gather around her and Jodie to read, they make disturbed buzzing sounds. All but Quinn appear engrossed in the message, which is written in neat black calligraphy on white paper.)
JODIE: (frowning) There once was a math club from Lawndale So convinced that it could not fail. It dawdled too often And built its own coffin. So now we'll provide it the nail.
Pleasant dreams, chumps. We'll be waiting in your nightmares. -- Grove Hills
Ugh. That sounds just like something Graham and those snobs would've come up with.
(Clarence goes pale and passes out, face forward, where his helmet is of no use to him. He hits his head on the table with a bang, then slides onto the floor.)
JODIE/SQUIGGLEY/BARRY: Oh no!
SQUIGGLEY: Gee whiz, must've forgotten to take his insulin.
BARRY: (shrieking) I told him, I told him: when you're feeling faint, head between the knees! Now Mom's gonna kill me for letting someone die in our house!
JODIE: (thought VO) Mono's starting to look pretty good right now. (rolls her eyes, resigned to play den mother again.) Hold on: I know CPR.
(Before leaning over, she turns to Quinn, who looks quite unnerved by all this.)
JODIE: (lowering her voice) If you need a reason to do your best in first chair, this is it. Those guys will be dead if we don't beat Grove Hills.
QUINN: (wrinkling her nose) And that's a bad thing?
JODIE: (after biting her lip for a split second to keep from laughing) Look, just try to take your role seriously, all right? Even if you're as smart as Phelps seems to think you are, you still have to work hard. So don't slack off.
(Quinn frowns resentfully and folds her arms on the table: "Slack off?? Her??" A few seconds later, we hear the sound of Jodie gagging off screen.)
CLARENCE: S-s-sorry 'b-bout the uh-onions.
JODIE: Don't... mention it.
SCENE 3 (Cumberland High auditorium, a week later)
(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Cumberland's auditorium and stage. On the stage sit two long tables on either side, each with four seats, plus two desks in the center of the stage. The mathletes from Team Lawndale and Team Cumberland are getting prepared, and we see Quinn slumped over in a chair at one table, oblivious to everyone around her.)
QUINN: (thought VO, resentful) Slack off? Slack off?? I don't slack off, I never slack off. I just focus on the stuff that's important to me and being first is important to me and I'm first chair so that means I care about winning 'cause if you're first you're a winner, right? Right?! Why does everyone think I'm a slacker, I don't even like slacks cause they never show off your legs so why would I try to be something I hate?? Stupid Daria thinks she's so smart an' my smart is just "dumb luck," well I'll show her what dumb luck is when I win! (scans the auditorium anxiously.) Oh God, pleeeeeease don't let me see anyone I know!
(Cut to Quinn's POV. The auditorium contains maybe a half-dozen people. But two of the people happen to be Daria and Jane. Resume shot of Quinn. She rolls her eyes.)
QUINN: Great. It's like I'm in prison and she's my freakin' guard dog or something. She'd just better not make fun of me again.
(Just then, the person who will ask math questions during the tournament comes up to her from behind.)
EXAMINER: Miss? (taps Quinn's shoulder.)
QUINN: Agh!
EXAMINER: (smiling with understanding) Feeling nervous?
QUINN: No.
EXAMINER: Good. Now if I could just double-check your name. It's Quinn Morg-
QUINN: (shaking her head) No-no-no, it's... um... Gwen. Gwen Morgan.
EXAMINER: But the card says --
QUINN: Well it's wrong.
(Meanwhile, cut to shot of Daria with Jane.)
DARIA: (muttering to herself) Twenty bucks. I should've asked for fifty.
JANE: (sardonic) Honestly, if I'd known a bag of peanuts would cost four bucks at this thing, I wouldn't've come. (sigh.) These mathletic events are charging way above of the average Joe's price range.
DARIA: Well maybe the sideshow will make up for it. (looks off screen, cocks an eyelid.) His Excellency has arrived.
(Cut to shot of Phelps roaming around beside the table, examining every fine detail with cool eyes and a stern expression. He freezes at one corner of the table and jostles it with one quick movement of his arm. He scowls.)
PHELPS: (to the Examiner) Sir these table legs aren't fitted according to regulations. I detected a slight wobble.
EXAMINER: (tired... having dealt with Phelps and his ilk before) It's just your imagination, mister. We make sure our tables are perfectly straight.
PHELPS: Yes, well if one my students' exam papers should happen to slide off, not to mention any injuries they could incur, I won't hesitate to contact the authorities and complain --
EXAMINER: All right, all right. (smiles angrily.) I'll have someone fix the legs.
(Phelps scarcely hears him, having already turned his attention to a bundle of pencils lying on the table. He picks one up, examines it closely.)
PHELPS: And these are 4B pencils. You do realize that the softer lead of a 4B pencil greatly increases the amount of streakage on the paper.
EXAMINER: (grumbling) It's easier to erase.
PHELPS: But the erasures will be sloppy, and in a tournament such as this, legibilty means everything. (waves the pencil at the Examiner as he says this.)
(The Examiner mumbles something incomprehensible.)
DARIA: (off screen) Why do I get the feeling he's only obsessed with this tournament because all the really good dictatorships have been taken?
JANE: (off screen) Not quite. Cuba might soon have an opening.
(Cut to shot of Quinn. She's been near Phelps this whole time, but has been too absorbed in her own dilemma to acknowledge him with her usual irritation. Pan over to show Barry, Clarence, and Squiggley gathered a short distance away, looking at her with concern.)
BARRY: Pooor Quinn. So beautiful, so distressed. I'd take on the entire Borg Collective if it would make her feel better.
SQUIGGLEY: Uh, maybe you could go reassure her, or something. If that's all right with you.
BARRY: I've tried talking to her. But alas, she's as cold and proud as Seven of Nine.
SQUIGGLEY: But gee, um, she might really start to like you if you talk to 'er...
BARRY: I don't know...
CLARENCE: Dammit man, just DO it!!!
(Both Squiggley and Barry look at him with utter shock. Then Barry nods and quickly scampers over to Quinn's side. He holds out something small and fuzzy.)
BARRY: Here, Quinn. How'd ya like my lucky rabbit's foot for good luck?
QUINN: (snide) Did you, like, kill the rabbit and stuff it first?
BARRY: Oh no -- I only stuff whole rabbits.
QUINN: Ewwwwww!
BARRY: See, it's for rubbing when you get nervous --
QUINN: Look, would you just leave me alone?? Just 'cause we work together does not mean we have to exchange non-math related dialogue. (Bt) And I am not nervous!
(As she turns away from Barry, she catches the determined gaze of her beloved math instructor. Quinn's face goes a shade paler and she swallows hard.)
(Fade-out. Fade-in to a short time later. We see that the competition is ready to start and mathletes are in position. Quinn and the Cumberland first chair sit at the isolated desks in the center of the stage, while their teams sit at the tables on either side. The Examiner stands before them at a podium. Cut to close-up of Quinn. Her eyes are wide and her face is pale. Her pencil trembles slightly.)
QUINN: (thought VO) I'm not nervous, oh no, I'm not nervous, not nervous me. That's just ridiculous, me nervous. Oh God... oh God... oh God... oh God-oh God-oh God-oh God-oh God. Ogodogodogodogodogodogodogodogodogodogodogodogodoh --
EXAMINER: First question.
QUINN: (thought VO) Oh God can I do this? Oh God am I really good enough?? Oh God I wish this was Cashman's and I was selecting a designer ensemble for summer evening wear. There are so many cute dresses out now, and open-toed shoes are arriving in an unlimited number of styles... (Pause) Wait -- did he just ask the question? (Bt) He must've, 'cause I'm writing. I'm writing, my hand is moving, I'm writing something. But what?!
(Cut to shot of Daria. She's leaning forward slightly in her seat, wearing the same odd expression as she did at the practice. Cut to shot of Mr. Phelps, watching with focused eyes and an unreadable expression. Resume shot of Quinn. She slaps her pencil on the desk.)
QUINN: (unnaturally high) Done!
(The Examiner saunters over to check the answer. A dramatic pause follows.)
EXAMINER: Correct. One point for Lawndale!
(The members of Quinn's team start clapping and cheering, with Barry and his pals going overboard, of course. Cut to shot of Mr. Phelps, a small smirk playing upon his lips. Cut to shot of Daria and Jane, with Jane clapping. Resume shot of Quinn, who relaxes noticeably and gets an "I knew it all along" expression on her face. Fade-out.)
(Fade-in to much later in the tournament, with the chalkboard revealing that Cumberland is down by a point. The five main members of each team are gathered together for the group portion, each person scribbling away on a piece of paper.)
EXAMINER: This is the final question. Two points for the team that answers first and answers correctly...
(Cut to close-up of Team Lawndale.)
QUINN: (hushed, authoritative) All right, I know what to do here. I've seen this one before.
SQUIGGLEY: Me, too. You --
QUINN: No, let me. Here, now first you get rid of the big box thingy, set it up so one is greater than, one is less than, add three to one side...
(Meanwhile the other mathletes are scribbling furiously. Jodie sort of glares at Quinn for her rudeness, but knows there's too little time to argue with her.)
QUINN: 'Kay, then you add the pointy arrow thing.
(Beat)
BARRY: Huh??
QUINN: The pointy arrow... you know, with the cute little tail.
JODIE: I don't follow you.
QUINN: (face reddening) Don't you guys know anything?? The pointy arrow is --
TEAM CUMBERLAND: (off screen) DONE!
CUMBERLAND GIRL: (off screen) The answer is X is a value between eleven and sixty-three!
(The Lawndale mathletes lift their heads and await the Examiner's reply with shock and dread.)
EXAMINER: Correct! Cumberland wins by one!
(A cheer roars out from the sparse crowd. Cut to shot of Daria and Jane. Daria gets an expression of vague sympathy. Cut to shot of Phelps. His face remains expressionless, but he closes his eyes. Resume shot of Team Lawndale. All of the mathletes wear looks of frustration and defeat. Almost as soon as their defeat has sunk in do the accusations begin.)
QUINN: (enraged) God, don't you guys know anything?! How could you not know what this is?! (She pushes her paper forward.)
BARRY: (surprised) But you said you would explain everything.
CLARENCE: Y-yeah.
QUINN: That doesn't mean everything-everything. I thought math nerds at least knew the basics!
JODIE: Well maybe we would've if you knew the right terminology. That "pointy arrow thing" --
BARRY: Is a greater-than-or-equal-to symbol.
CLARENCE & SQUIGGLEY: Yeah.
JODIE: Maybe if you hadn't been so arrogant and thought you were exempt from doing work, from learning little things like the correct names of symbols, we would've understood --
QUINN: All right, all right, Gawd. (Her face is now red with mortification. Being told she was in the wrong was hard enough, but Jodie's remarks really stung.) I didn't realize I was such a lousy addition to your freaking team. Well fine, after today I won't bother you anymore...
(With a jerk of her chair, she stands upright. Jodie and the guys eye each other with concern.)
BARRY: No Quinn! We didn't mean it! Pleeeeeeeeease don't go! (He jumps out of his chair and makes an unsuccessful effort to fall to his knees before her.)
JODIE: (somewhat contrite) We shouldn't've flown off the handle like that. You're still learning, it was just your first time --
QUINN: And my last.
(On her way off stage, she jumps over Barry, who'd attempted to block her path. Cut to close-up of Phelps, still standing in his corner. His eyes have shifted to the side, and he appears to be planning something.)
(fade-out. fade-in to: )
SCENE 4 (Lawndale High, the next day)
(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Quinn strolling through the hallway with Stacy and Tiffany, looking more serene.)
QUINN: (thought VO) It's soooooo good to be with normal people again.
(They pass by Kevin and Brittany, who are trying to get Kevin's football-helmeted head out of his locker.)
KEVIN: (whiny) It's really, really stuck, babe!
BRITTANY: Oh no! My Kevvy's head'll be trapped in there forever!
KEVIN: I just hope they don't have to saw it off an' reattach it or nothing. That would really hurt!
STACY: (semi-whiny, laying a hand on Quinn's arm) We're so glad you're back from donating blood for your cousin's bone marrow transplant, Quinn. Things have just been falling apart without you!
TIFFANY: Look.
(She removes that sweater she attained at the beginning of Season Four, revealing that she and Stacy are wearing the same outfits.)
STACY: Tiffany forgot to issue the three-day fashion forecast. Now we're matching!
TIFFANY: Does this make me look as fat as it makes her?
(This wins her a rare scowl from Stacy.)
QUINN: (somewhat distracted) You guys both look fine. No one's gonna destroy you for matching one day -- as long as Tiffany keeps wearing that sweater. (quick transition.) But say, I was wondering: remember what you said a while ago about people thinking I was (forced laugh.) a math brain? Um, people, um, didn't hold it against me, did they?
STACY: I'm not sure. (whiny) Oh, but you haven't even heard the worst thing we did --!
QUINN: (worried) Not sure as in "No they didn't" or not sure as in "Maybe they did, but I wasn't there" or not sure as in "Maybe they were going to but I was there" and they know you're a friend of me and they've been pretending to like me this whole time so they couldn't, like, risk the whole back-stabber stigma? (Bt) Well?!
(Stacy and Tiffany eye each other with "What's gotten in to her??" expressions.)
TIFFANY: Wellllll... I heard Skylar say that all math brains grow up to be fat and wear baggy clothes... and if you're a girl... no guy will date you.
QUINN: (cringing) Oh.
STACY: (soothing) He probably wasn't talking about you, Quinn.
QUINN: Well Skylar and I are on the outs, anyway. Like I'd care about what he --
STACY: And I heard Tori tell Brooke that math brains, like, go off in a whole other world and you can't talk to them or relate to them at all. And Brooke said she was right.
QUINN: Well she's wrong! About me, anyway! Um, not that I am a math brain.
TIFFANY: No waaaaaay.
STACY: (looking off screen) Oh NO! (starts hyperventilating.) It's spreading, Tiffany!
QUINN: (turning to look) What is??
(They pause in front of a group wearing jeans with waistbands that fall to mid-thigh, baggy sweaters, and backward-turned caps.)
QUINN: Agh!
TIFFANY: Hip hop. Everywhere... hip hop.
STACY: Make it STOP!
QUINN: What happened?? Didn't you remember our unacceptable fashions drill??
STACY: W-we would have...
TIFFANY: It wasn't my fault...
STACY: (glaring) Well it wasn't mine, either. Tiffany and me spent the meeting discussing how to coordinate the new plaid nail polish...
QUINN: (rolling her eyes) And so you forgot --
TIFFANY: To remember --
STACY: To, um, send out a warning about hip hop fashions. (Bt.) You, um, weren't there...
QUINN: (straining to be patient) And what about Sandi?
TIFFANY: She wasn't, either.
STACY: (lips quivering) So we were al-l-lone.
TIFFANY: And one of those guys said I was fat, and, like, that was a good thing. (shudders.)
QUINN: Can't you two do anything without my help?! Do I always have to be watching you?! (She sees the stunned looks on her friends' faces and quickly retreats.) Um, uh... never mind. Look, we can contain this thing before it spreads to the rest of the school. We just need a plan.
(Stacy and Tiffany nod with anticipation and relief.)
QUINN: First we'll --
BARRY: (off screen, calling) Qui-inn! Oh Quiiii-iiiiinn!
STACY: (looking off screen) Ewww! What does that guy want, Quinn??
TIFFANY: (also looking) Like he'd even stand a chance with you.
STACY: Yeah. (Bt) Quinn?
(They both turn their eyes to where Quinn was standing, only to find that she's vanished. Meanwhile, the group of hip-hoppers have spotted them and begin closing in. Stacy and Tiffany quickly forget about their president's disappearance and regard their situation with growing horror.)
GUY: Heyyyyyy, check out the phat chicks!
(Cut to shot of Daria and Jane. They're standing around outside of class when all of the sudden Quinn streaks past them and out of sight.)
JANE: (like a sports announcer) It's Morgendorffer in the lead with only two laps to go!
DARIA: She must really be upset if she's resorting to actual physical exertion.
JANE: About the math competition? You mean our little Material Girl isn't happy?? Now she can spend every second of her newfound freedom searching for more tube tops.
DARIA: Call me crazy, but I think she wanted to stay on the mathletics squad.
JANE: Okay, Crazy. How can you tell?
DARIA: Last night she kept moping over dinner about how she could've done this better or that better, how it should've been log base ten to the eighth power instead of log base two to the third power.
JANE: Come again??
DARIA: I just made that up to give you an idea. But she's too much of a proud, vain egomaniac to ever admit that she wants her spot back.
JANE: Ooh yeah.
DARIA: Even though that Barry guy keeps calling our house trying to get her to change her mind.
JANE: Barry?? (cringes.) Have you changed phone numbers yet?
DARIA: (rolling her eyes) Eleven messages. Long ones. In a very... whiny... tone. (sighs heavily.) It's enough to make a compassionate sibling want to tell Quinn to cut the crap and just do what feels right to her. (Bt) Too bad I'm not compassionate.
(Jane lifts a brow. Daria stands there expressionlessly for several more seconds before she finally rolls her eyes again and trudges off in the direction where Quinn fled.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 5 (outside of the teacher's lounge)
(Shot of the outside.)
PHELPS: (from inside, tense) For the last time --
DeMARTINO: FIRST she gives you the best PARKing spot! The-ehhhn you mysteriously get your own REFRIGERATOR so you don't have to share with the other teachers and get YOUR meatball sub mixed together with someone else's tuna-and- egg-SALAD!
PHELPS: For your information, I bought that refrigerator --
DeMARTINO: PUH-LEEEEEASE!
(Just at the door to the lounge starts to open, we see Quinn sweep past. She's not running anymore, but she's still moving fast and looking spooked. Right when she exits the screen, the door opens wide enough for us to see Phelps and DeMartino, giving each other evil looks.)
DeMARTINO: Since when can a TEACHER afford to buy any luxuries?? Unless said teacher got a big fat SALARY when he came --! PHELPS: (curt) Look, I see a student of mine whom I need to speak to. So unless you have anything worthwhile to say, this conversation is finished. Good day. (He leaves quickly.)
DeMARTINO: (shouting after him) Ohhh NO, this is only the BEGINNING!!!
(Cut to shot of Quinn, who has paused to cool off, lest sweat actually pop up on her skin. Phelps strolls over to her.)
PHELPS: (hint of a smirk) Well good morning.
QUINN: (in no mood to fake respectfulness) Oh. It's you.
PHELPS: (unfazed) Now is that any way to greet your instructor?
QUINN: (mumbling) I dunno.
(Beat)
PHELPS: You left the scene of the competition so quickly yesterday that we didn't have the chance to chat.
QUINN: (sarcastic) Gee, too bad.
(She looks as though she wants to leave, and Phelps looks somewhat taken aback by her overt hostility.)
PHELPS: My dear Quinn... (sighs.) people do lose sometimes. It happens to the best of us.
QUINN: Oh gee really?! Gosh, you mean you're, like, okay with someone smudging their stupid answer 'cause the table was too crooked and getting it wrong??!
PHELPS: (smirking once more) All right, I'll admit: I can get a little obsessive at times.
QUINN: Try all the time. (She chuckles bitterly, not caring anymore what he does to her.) You're, like, the ONLY teacher I've ever met who wants to be perfect at everything. No one's as bad as YOU -- not Jodie Landon, not Sandi Griffin. The only other person who even comes close (Bt) is me.
(Phelps looks as though he's going to respond, but when he sees Quinn's face take on a pensive expression, he closes his mouth.)
QUINN: (pouty, frustrated) I don't like it when people say I'm bad at stuff. (Bt) I don't like it when I think they're right.
PHELPS: And when your teammates complained about your performance, you quickly assumed that they knew you better than you know yourself. (Quinn looks at him warily for a moment. Then she nods reluctantly.) Even though their frustration could have been directed towards anyone in the group, given the heated nature of the competition. (More nods.) And you're willing to quit because you don't ever want learn if they really are correct, hmm?
(Quinn starts to nod, then catches herself.)
QUINN: Um, no. No-no-no. It's so I don't have to worry about my friends thinking I've turned into a brainy freak.
PHELPS: What was I thinking? Of course. For one who places such emphasis on her social status, that would be of tremendous concern.
QUINN: Um, right. Concern. (An uncomfortable look crosses her face. Phelps raises his brows questioningly.) But... y'know...
(Beat)
PHELPS: (gently prodding) Yes?
QUINN: Um... y'know, I didn't totally hate working on those math problems or anything... (sigh.) and being a freak is bad, but being a big baby is even worse. An' I don't want to feel that way, but it's how I will feel if I quit the team, especially if it's before I show... I could do better.
(Beat)
PHELPS: You really think you could improve, hmm?
QUINN: (subdued) I think so. (Bt) Yes.
PHELPS: But what about your friends?
(Beat)
QUINN: I'll just keep making sure they don't find out.
(For a moment or two, Quinn avoids looking at Phelps. But when she finally does, it's with an unusually shy expression, one that says she regrets having snapped at him earlier.)
PHELPS: (smirking knowingly) Say no more, Ms. Morgendorffer. Your spot on the mathletics squad is safe. And I'll be glad to help you achieve your goal, as I always have.
QUINN: (shy) Thanks.
PHELPS: I know how you need me to keep you afloat.
(Beat)
QUINN: (flustered) Oh, I don't need your help... I can do math stuff on my own just fine. My dad can...
PHELPS: Ah, but your father won't remind you to put aside your other activities, or that pointless busywork your other teachers assign you, to focus on what's really important. And he doesn't know all my tricks, does he? (smirk deepens, as does his trademark impenetrable gaze.)
QUINN: (after several conflicted expressions cross her face) No.
PHELPS: And we'll put those tricks to good use, won't we? Just like all of the other times.
QUINN: Yeah.
PHELPS: You know something, Ms. Morgendorffer, you were right: we are two of a kind. We both are willing to do what we can to go that extra mile, whatever it takes to win. Just as long as we first put our eye on that finish line.
QUINN: (with more assurance than before) Yeah.
(Cut to shot of Daria, who's been lurking by a corner, eavesdropping on their conversation this whole time. She's frowning, not liking what she's heard.)
[Shot of Stacy and Tiffany watching with horror as the hip hopsters come towards them, followed by shot of Phelps and DeMartino emerging from the Teacher's Lounge, followed by shot of Clarence fainting.]
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