SCENE 1 ( Jake's apartment complex, evening )
(Daria and Quinn climb out of a new Volkswagen Jetta parked on the street, each carrying an overnight bag. They walk slowly, surveying their surroundings.)
QUINN: Ugh! Of all the places Dad had to move to, why'd he have to pick one so close to the freeway?
DARIA: Because all of Lawndale's beachfront properties were full.
(She and Quinn pass through a gate into an unremarkable apartment complex, beige- colored with brown trim, surrounding a quiet swimming pool.)
QUINN: Cheap yellow lawn chairs -- gross. One of our parents finally gets a pool, and it's one I wouldn't be caught dead bringing my friends to.
DARIA: Reason enough for me to come.
(Quinn scowls at her, then her shoulders slump; she isn't looking forward to what's ahead. Daria understands, and her expression softens.)
DARIA: So for the last time: Three blinks in the left eye, "God, get me out of here." Three blinks in the right eye, "You don't want to go in that bathroom. Believe me."
QUINN: I think that was two blinks.
DARIA: No, that was: "It looks like food. So why is it growling?"
QUINN: Eww. (giggles) Daria, do you really think we'll use this?
DARIA: If nothing else, it'll ease the tedium during one of Dad's military school stories.
QUINN: Right.
(They climb the stairs to the second floor, then walk down a corridor of doors, trying to find the right one.)
JAKE: (O.S.) Gahhhhhh!!!
DARIA: Straight ahead.
(She knocks once, and the door flies open, revealing Jake in the doorway.)
JAKE: Hiya, girls!
(Before either can react, he gives them a big hug.)
JAKE: How're Daddy's little sweethearts doing?
DARIA: Checking for internal injuries.
JAKE: (pulls away) Come on in! Wait'll you see what I've done with the place!
(Daria and Quinn exchange skeptical looks as they follow Jake inside. Once their eyes meet the living room, they widen with surprise. They weren't expecting Jake's apartment to be so... set up.)
(The living room contains a beige couch and two chairs, which face an entertainment center complete with a high-quality fifty-inch television. Although it contains few flourishes, it is neat and uncluttered.)
JAKE: Sit down! Make yourself at home.
QUINN: (sitting on the couch) What happened to all your boxes?
JAKE: It's all put away. I even cleaned out the guestroom for you two. This place is downright cozy now, isn't it?
(Quinn and Daria frown a little, not liking his implication.)
JAKE: And check this out! (runs to the T.V.) Your old man got himself a top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art, high-quality Digiphonic! You could watch this thing from Mars!
DARIA: Very cool. Mom would never let you have a T.V. that big.
JAKE: (bitter) That's right! Well I showed her-- (catches himself, assumes a cordial tone.) I mean, I'm sure she had her reasons.
DARIA: Maybe she thought the Martians would try to make bootlegs of "Farscape."
JAKE: Now wait right there! I've got something for you!
(Daria and Quinn exchange puzzled looks as Jake dashes around the corner. He returns with two gift boxes, which he lays in their laps.)
QUINN: More gifts?
DARIA: Dad, you don't have to do this. We already have the car.
JAKE: Aww, but it's not every day you girls come over. I wanted to do something special.
(Quinn opens her box, and her face lights up with its first real smile of the evening.)
QUINN: Chez Musique? Dad, this is the best, most expensive perfume on the market! How did you think of this?
JAKE: I just asked the sales lady at Cashman's what I could buy for the prettiest daughter in town. (hits his wallet pocket, gets a pained expression.) Just don't ask for anything else for a month or so, okay sweetie?
(Daria opens her gift.)
DARIA: A... savings bond?
JAKE: I was gonna give it to you at the end of the year when you graduated, but then I thought "Why not?" The earlier I give it, the more time it has to mature!
DARIA: That's really... thoughtful.
JAKE: The best is yet to come -- I'm making Mexican Miracle a la Jake! (He sets an oversized remote in Daria's hand.) You girls relax, watch some T.V. There's over 500 channels on this thing!
(Daria hits a button, and turns on the stereo.)
JAKE: You'll get the hang of it. I almost have.
(He dashes out. Daria and Quinn slowly exhale, overwhelmed by their father's high-octane affection. Her smile fading, Quinn rolls the perfume bottle in her hand, then slowly lets it drop back into the box.)
QUINN: (flat) She's everywhere.
DARIA: Who? Mom?
QUINN: No. Her. That woman Dad's dating who isn't Mom.
DARIA: I didn't count more than three heads.
QUINN: I mean she's been here. She's probably the one who bought me this perfume.
DARIA: You don't know that.
QUINN: Think about it, Daria. Do you really think Dad would know where to get us nice presents?
DARIA: Deprive him of his familial comfort zone, and who knows what he's capable of.
QUINN: I bet she helped set up his apartment, too. Dad was always misplacing and breaking stuff at home.
DARIA: Quinn, as long as the lampshade isn't decorated with the latest in thong-wear, I'm more than willing to leave Dad's private life alone. In fact, I really, really don't want to know.
QUINN: She bought him that painting. (points to a small framed landscape above the couch.) It's got really subtle shading and pastels. A guy would never buy something like that on his own.
DARIA: For God's sake --
QUINN: I'm gonna take a quick look around.
(She jumps up off the couch and disappears into one of the bedrooms. Daria scowls as she tries to figure out which button on the Space Age remote controls the T.V. When at last the large screen glows to life, Quinn emerges from the bathroom, looking shaken.)
QUINN: Omigod... omigod... She keeps her toothbrush here.
DARIA: (sitting up straighter) What??
QUINN: It's coral. She probably read Waif's August issue about sexy mouth decorations, too. They rated coral as the color you most want next to your teeth because it offsets your gums really nice. A guy would never know that!
(She paces the room frantically.)
QUINN: Bedspread with a print? Textured pillow cases? Throw rugs on the bathroom floor?? (She pauses, tries to steady herself.) The color scheme is all wrong -- cream colors mixed with warm tones. And Dad has knick-knacks, Daria. Knick-knacks! It screams comfort, safety, and stability, which are female concerns. Guys just want something they can set their soda cans on.
DARIA: Quinn, enough. You haven't given one solid piece of evidence that Dad's "friend" even is a steady girlfriend, let alone one who sleeps over.
QUINN: (wounded) Well then explain the second bathrobe in Dad's closet that's too small for him.
DARIA: I... (The words die on her lips.)
QUINN: He had a picture of her, too. A small one, kind of hidden away in his bathroom, like he's not ready to put it out 'cause that would make it official. It wasn't the kind that came with the frame.
(Daria and Quinn look at each other, absorbing the significance of that last sentence. Then Quinn walks back to the couch and sinks down beside her sister, puts her head in her hands.)
QUINN: Some strange woman is with our dad, Daria. She must stay overnight a lot if she's keeping her stuff here. Maybe she wants to start a family with him, which is why he got the apartment with a second bedroom. Next she'll be moving in, and she'll want to be pals with us so we'll be okay with whatever she does. But whatever she does do, it'll just take Dad further and further away from Mom.
(Daria wants to make a retort, but she really can't. Her sister's fears play too much into her own. Suddenly, Jake bursts around the corner.)
JAKE: Okay, girls! Mexican Miracle a la Jake is complete-o!
(He is met with two devastated expressions.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 2 (Morgendorffer residence, that same time)
(Helen sits on the center couch, surrounded by work files. She wears a headset and talks to Rita on it as she sorts through papers.)
HELEN: Honest to God, Rita! I am not going to put on stilettos and stand on a street corner to pick up men! (Pause, blushes.) Well of course I knew you were kidding!
(She searches around for a particular paper, not finding it, and becomes frustrated.)
HELEN: You could at least pretend to be upset that Jake moved out of the house! (She listens, her face growing solemn.) I'm sorry. It's just I'm not like you -- I can't pick up and move on, just like that. Jake still has boxes here that I need to send him. And he packed some of my things by mistake -- my bathrobe, my tape recorder. I...
(She finds her sought-after document and just stares at it without reading.)
HELEN: I'm just not ready to go out and have a good time, even though I know there's nothing stopping me. I mean if Jake can be with some two-bit home- wrecking little hussy, then I--! (She takes a deep breath, calms down.) No, no... there's no blame in this situation. We both agreed that we needed this, and it will just make us stronger in the end. (She listens, her face growing thoughtful.) You know you're right -- I will do something fun. (Pause) Talk to you soon. Bye.
(She removes her headset and looks at the document, then slowly puts it aside and starts to stand up. Her phone rings. Helen leans back and answers.)
HELEN: Hello? (Pause, wan smile.) Oh hi Eric. (Pause) Of course I have time to go over some depositions...
(cut to: )
SCENE 3 (Jake's dining room)
(Daria and Quinn sit with Jake at a square wooden table, picking at their food. Jake watches them, his face growing concerned.)
JAKE: You girls can tell, can't you?
(Daria and Quinn lay down their forks and look at him nervously.)
JAKE: I didn't make this. I had a, er, mishap in the kitchen about an hour before you arrived, so I ran out and bought everything at Good Time Mexican. I hope you can forgive me.
DARIA & QUINN: Oh.
(They pick up their forks and eat with more enthusiasm. Jake smiles a little, then takes another few more forkfuls before his face grows solemn again.)
JAKE: So how's Helen?
(Daria and Quinn look up.)
JAKE: I mean Mom, 'cause you don't call her "Helen," I do. So how is Helen? Mom! I mean your mother! How is she?
DARIA: She's fine.
QUINN: I think she's on a date.
(Jake's face turns bright red and he starts to gag. He reaches for his glass of water and takes a big, long sip.)
JAKE: Good for -- excuse me. (He downs the rest of the glass, then smiles weakly, his eyes red and watery.) Glad to know she's... she's doing all right...
(He takes another bite of food, swallows hard.)
JAKE: So, is this her first date? Did you get a good look at him? Tug on his hair to make sure it was real?! Cheap polyester hair-wearing BASTARD!
QUINN: Daddy, how long are things gonna be like this?!
(Jake closes his mouth, seeing her on the verge of tears. He lays down his fork and reaches for Quinn's hand. She pulls it away before he can get there.)
JAKE: I'm sorry, honey. I shouldn't have said that... (He sighs deeply.) I guess I'm still learning how to act... separated. (looks at them seriously.) The truth is, I don't know how long this will last. It's hard now, but it'll get easier over time.
(Daria and Quinn stare at their plates, silent.)
JAKE: Which reminds me: Girls, your mother and I were talking a few days ago, and she and I both agreed that the separation happened a little quickly.
DARIA: That's like saying sub-zero is a little nippy.
JAKE: We all have a lot of unresolved feelings and pent-up emotions from the experience. She seemed to think it would be a good idea if we went to family therapy.
DARIA: Isn't that what you do before your family falls apart?
(Jake chuckles nervously.)
JAKE: Well I mean she and I have seen a few... but you girls have never talked to a therapist. We think it would be a good opportunity to say what's on your mind in a controlled setting.
DARIA: Where you have a ready supply of mood-altering drugs.
JAKE: No! I mean... so you won't feel so bad about all this.
DARIA: Because we'll have accepted the situation.
(Jake looks at her with sad, hopeful eyes. Daria tries not to let them get to her, then finds herself sighing with disgust.)
DARIA: Fine.
(Jake looks at Quinn, who is staring at her plate. She gives a shrug, much like the ones she gives Helen on a nightly basis.)
JAKE: Okay, then. (forced smile.) Who wants seconds?
(cut to: )
SCENE 4 (Jake's apartment, night)
(In the guest room, Daria stands in her nightclothes, gathering items from her overnight bag sitting on the chair. Her features are marred by a scowl.)
DARIA: I can't believe it. They want us to go into therapy, like we're the problem. They think that if some therapist can label us screw ups, we won't be able to call them on their big screw up. Mom and Dad have done many things that I've objected to over the years, up to and including the separation, but I think this is a low even for them.
(She turns to Quinn, her intended audience, and finds her fast asleep on one side of the double bed. Daria's expression softens. She should have known that her sister wasn't listening -- Quinn was on the verge of falling asleep since dinner, and now it is almost midnight. Daria watches her chest rise and fall, envying her state of serene oblivion, knowing that she won't share it. She heads out toward the main bathroom.)
(As Daria prepares to brush her teeth, she notices the coral toothbrush that Quinn had mentioned earlier, and picks it up for closer inspection. It looks new, yet not brand new, as though someone has used it a couple of times. Daria sighs, not wanting to think that her sister had guessed correctly about its owner.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 5 (sidewalk, Saturday afternoon)
JANE: Well that was five hours of my life I'll never get back.
(Daria and Jane walk past rows of shops.)
DARIA: Who'd have guessed Tom had such a deep abiding love for piccolo concerts?
JANE: Oh, I did. Tom loves many things that are dull to the average sane human.
DARIA: Then why'd you agree to go with him?
JANE: I was making up for him attending one of my living art exhibitions. Boy, cover a man with stewed tomatoes and raw eggs for a few hours and he gets all touchy.
DARIA: About that sanity claim? Does that cover even the women who live in cardboard boxes with twelve cats?
JANE: Ha, ha, very amusing. (strained casual.) So, how was your evening at--
DARIA: Hey.
JANE: What?
(Daria points to the Pizza King entrance, their destination. Andrea has just emerged, a cigarette and her lighter in hand. She sees Daria and Jane, and although her face doesn't change expression, she looks welcoming.)
DARIA: Andrea.
(Andrea raises a hand in greeting.)
DARIA: I don't mean to bug you, but there's something I wanted to ask. (Andrea shrugs a shoulder.) I saw a bunch of students who worked on the underground paper get called into Ms. Li's office yesterday. Would you happen to know what it was about?
ANDREA: Yes.
DARIA: And?
ANDREA: They got suspended. Indefinitely.
DARIA: (worry creeping in) For what?
(Andrea shrugs a shoulder.)
ANDREA: For the underground. What else?
DARIA: For distributing articles that criticized the school on school grounds?? (Andrea nods.) I guess it would have been too much to expect her to honor the First Amendment.
JANE: Not since she banished the federal government and renamed the school Liville.
DARIA: (to Andrea) How did she find out it was them?
ANDREA: You were there when they started getting more careless with the articles. Danny and a couple of the guys got so cocky that in the last issue, they wrote a bunch of hit pieces about teachers they didn't like. Even I could see they weren't accurate, but Damien didn't care. He liked the attention we were getting.
DARIA: Of course.
ANDREA: Then, like the idiots they are, they started bragging in class about who wrote what. Didn't take Ms. Li long to connect the dots.
JANE: Especially when they're drawn right in front of her.
DARIA: But we saw five students go into Ms. Li's office. Were they all guilty of writing smear jobs?
ANDREA: I don't think so. (She takes a puff of her lit cigarette, exhales slowly.) But it wouldn't surprise me if she got Danny to squeal on other writers so she wouldn't go too hard on him. Maybe she's trying to see how deep it goes.
DARIA: Were you called in?
(Andrea shrugs a shoulder.)
ANDREA: I don't know. I cut class after second period. I'm only telling you what I know second-hand.
(She takes another puff, as Daria's worried expression deepens. Jane sees this.)
JANE: (pointed) You left before it got bad, Daria.
(Andrea shrugs a shoulder in agreement.)
ANDREA: I was there the day you confronted Damien. I should have quit when you did. But they were like the family I always wanted, and I couldn't just give them up. (takes another puff, looks wistful.) Too bad: It was great while it lasted.
(She shrugs a shoulder, signaling good-bye, and parts without another word.)
JANE: You don't know he's named you.
DARIA: I also don't know who shot JFK, but that doesn't mean he isn't rotting beneath six feet of rubble.
JANE: Come on, how long's it been since you wrote for that paper?
DARIA: (grim) Not long enough.
JANE: So what's the worst that could happen? Li hears you did it, can't find anything on you, so she threatens suspension. You just get your mother, Lawyer Extraordinaire, to go to the mat for you the way she did when we got in trouble over the poster contest, and you'll get off with a warning.
DARIA: Or she could threaten my graduation and otherwise make my school year a living hell, Hannibal Lecter-style.
JANE: You told me that you never wanted to feel like you couldn't go to your folks if you had a problem.
DARIA: That was before they suggested family therapy so Quinn and I could learn to accept their mistake. (reflective) Besides, I don't even know how to explain to them that I was on an underground paper.
JANE: "Hey Mom and Dad, did you hear I won a Pulitzer for my ground-breaking work in local underground news?"
DARIA: Shut up.
(cut to: )
SCENE 6 (Stacy's house, afternoon)
(Quinn sits on Stacy's bed, while Stacy rummages through her wardrobe, separating the current from the dated.)
QUINN: It was so weird the way Sandi just came up to me, like old times. I mean, she's been nice, but kind of distant, like she has this double life she doesn't want anyone to know about.
STACY: Yeah, she's been really weird. (holds up a dress.) Do you think this dress is in, or out?
QUINN: (shudders) Definitely out. I can't believe you kept it in your closet for so long -- it's at least two seasons old.
(Stacy flings it toward the Out pile as if it were an animal carcass.)
STACY: (squeaks) I just kept it there to remind me of the unfashionable girls who wouldn't know it was so dated, and pity them.
QUINN: I figured this was Sandi's way of reaching out to me, like she was asking for help. So I thought the Fashion Club could arrange a visit, kind of--
STACY: You mean there's still a Fashion Club??
(Quinn looks at her strangely.)
QUINN: Of course there is. When hasn't there been a Fashion Club?
STACY: It's just that we haven't had a meeting in so long. You were always at your math things and then your parents were having problems and I'm sorry, Quinn! It was me who told the school your parents were separating! I tried to hold it in as long as I could, but every day people kept asking me why your face was all blotchy and I ran out of excuses --!
QUINN: (barely registers) That's fine, Stacy. But why didn't you ask me if the club was still around?
STACY: I guess I just thought you cared so much about math, that it kind of went without saying. We haven't done anything like this for a long time. (She gestures at her In and Out piles. Quinn's face grows solemn.) For a while Tiffany and I tried holding our own meetings, but Tiffany was acting president, so you can imagine what a disaster that was. Not that I don't like Tiffany as a friend --
QUINN: Why weren't you acting president?
STACY: Bu-but that would have been jumping ahead in line! You're president, she's vice president, I'm --
QUINN: But you have a slightly better grasp of reality than she does. Not that I don't love Tiffany, but --
(She and Stacy share a "Yeah, I know" chuckle.)
QUINN: I've really been out of it for that long? What other things have gone on with you when I wasn't there?
STACY: Oh nothing, really. (Bt) A few things.
(She rummages through her closet and pulls out a karate gi with a purple belt.)
QUINN: (stunned) Oh.
(cut to: )
SCENE 7 (Quinn's room, later)
(Quinn walks in, lays her overnight bag on her bed, and sits down beside it. She lets her eyes wander about the room.)
(On her desk sits her math textbook, which she leans toward instinctively. Quinn stands up and walks over to it, opens it up, and flips through the pages. Math problem sets have soothed her on more than one occasion, and the impulse to immerse herself in one is strong. Yet Quinn finds herself noticing other details about her surroundings.)
(Hanging by her mirrors is a set of pom-poms, remnants of her brief career as Lawndale High's head cheerleader. On her wall is a certificate she'd received for raising funds two years ago to open Cafe Lawndale. Beneath it is a newspaper article heralding the Fashion Expo's first appearance at Lawndale High.)
(Quinn closes her math book and walks over to them. She gives each a closer look, as if seeing it for the first time.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 8 (Morgendorffer living room/kitchen)
(Quinn walks down the stairs, then stops part-way and looks toward the kitchen, where Helen's voice can be heard. Her expression is a mixture of reluctance and longing, as she wonders if her anger toward her mother has faded enough that she could have a deep talk with her.)
(Quinn finally continues down the stairs, into the living room, where --)
HELEN: (O.S.) ...and for all I know, they're still there -- I haven't heard either of them come home yet. So it was very quiet, but these days, that's hardly different from when they are home.
(Quinn freezes. Meanwhile Helen sits at the kitchen table, dressed in old clothes and wearing the phone headset. She adds clay to a wire and wood structure that rises up like a volcano and blocks her view of the living room. Her sculpture isn't going well, and frustration toward it and life in general is evident in her tone.)
HELEN: They're rude and sullen, and rarely give me a straight answer when I ask for one. And yes, I know they're teenagers, but it's gone above and beyond their normal behavior to the point where I can't deal with them at all, especially Quinn. The only time she hasn't given me attitude is when she woke up one morning with her contacts stuck in her eyes.
(Quinn's face falls. Gritting her teeth, she turns and heads back quickly in the direction from which she came.)
HELEN: Wait a minute, Amy, I thought I heard -- (struggles to take off her headset.) Damn this thing! (Pause, listens, her face puckering.) I want to be honest with them. But what can I say? "Daddy and I separated so we could find ourselves"?? That sounds like New Age nonsense even to me.
(She takes a wad of clay and finds it stiff from prolonged exposure. With frustration, she pounds it against the table, then reaches for a squirt bottle.)
HELEN: That's why I'm hoping the family therapy session will allow me to express myself to them in a way that I otherwise couldn't. It just hurts so bad to see them upset, sometimes I wish I were dead.
(The clay is unsalvageable, and Helen stabs it with a fork, which barely cuts the surface.)
HELEN: (listens) Oh, honey, of course you go lie down. Amy, weren't you sick like this the last time we...?
(Helen is cut short, listens. A slow smile spreads across her face.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 9 (The Grove, weekday afternoon)
(The exterior is an attractive, stand-alone, wood-paneled building set amongst trees. Inside, the decor is almost en par with Chez Pierre, with high ceilings, elegant white tablecloths, and servers in uniform. A small stream runs through the center of the room from a waterfall in one corner, and a pianist plays light classical in another. Near him sit Quinn and Mr. Phelps, who are looking over menus. Quinn can hardly keep her eyes on her own, so impressed is she with her surroundings.)
QUINN: When you said we should go to a "coffee shop," I didn't think it would be this cool. Usually coffee places are these dark holes full of grungy nerds who quote books.
PHELPS: Yes, The Grove has a long, proud history of serving the best coffee, tea, and tea trays in this part of the state. (raises his brows.) And since I'm English and you no doubt define me by my tea, I thought we would do it right.
QUINN: Thanks for taking me here. This is really nice.
PHELPS: I like to keep my math prodigies happy. I don't care if you hate me, but I'd prefer you were content with all other aspects of your life.
(Quinn chuckles a little, then flushes.)
QUINN: How long have you been coming here?
PHELPS: My partner and I have come on and off for, oh, I'd say six or seven years. There's a meeting hall round the back, which hosts an excellent lecture series on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
QUINN: Your "partner"? (She realizes, smiles.) Mr. Phelps...?
PHELPS: Yes, yes, my "partner," "boyfriend," "significant other," whichever loose term adequately describes our years of devotion to one another. (He takes off his glasses to rub his eyes wearily.) Feel free to recoil from me in horror if you're so inclined.
QUINN: (smiles) I don't care if you're gay. The rumors around school were saying it for months, anyhow, so it's not like a surprise.
PHELPS: (sarcastic) Ooh, that's a relief.
QUINN: Besides, you dress much too nicely for a straight guy.
(Phelps cocks an amused brow as a waiter appears.)
WAITER: Have you decided?
PHELPS: Yes, let's see... a pot of Earl Grey and a slice of lemon tart. You've a sweet tooth, Ms. Morgendorffer?
QUINN: Not really.
PHELPS: Then you might prefer scones with clotted cream. The scones themselves are a bit bland, but they go well with tea.
QUINN: (wrinkles nose) Can I just have the tea?
PHELPS: (small smile) Come on, give it a try. You won't regret it.
QUINN: Well... okay.
(The waiter jots down their order and leaves. Phelps leans closer to the piano, and listens with evident pleasure.)
PHELPS: The blackboard environment is all well and good, but some days it's just nice to come here and let the music run through you.
QUINN: Right.
(Phelps glances at her, notices that her expression has grown pensive.)
PHELPS: Are you all right, Ms. Morgendorffer?
(Quinn opens her eyes and keeps them focused on the table centerpiece.)
QUINN: Mr. Phelps, I shouldn't have let you bring me here.
PHELPS: (frowns) Are you feeling ill?
QUINN: Oh no, I'm fine. But I wanted to tell you -- ask you, um... (gives it thought.) I've been thinking the past few days about school, and stuff.
PHELPS: (nods) All right...
QUINN: And, well, before my parents split, it was okay if I did extra math assignments, because if I fell a little behind in my other classes, it was never too much behind, like I could always make it up.
(Phelps nods.)
QUINN: But after my dad moved out, I got really depressed and started sleeping a lot more, sometimes ten or twelve hours a night, because it felt like an escape from things. And I've been trying to cut back, but it's turned into, like, this really bad habit that's kept me from finishing a bunch of assignments. I'm not in trouble yet, 'cause my mom's secretary got my other teachers to excuse me, but I soon could be if I don't start catching up.
(She glances at Phelps. He nods, the expression gone from his face.)
PHELPS: So you need time to catch up in your other classes is what you're saying.
QUINN: And... more.
PHELPS: Yes?
QUINN: Mr. Phelps, lately I've been thinking about school, and my life and my future. A few weeks ago, Daria told me I was smart, but what mattered most was how I used it.
PHELPS: How charitable of her.
QUINN: And, well, I just started Mr. Nelson's History class last week, and he's been talking about World War I, and the way he talks, I can, like, see the battles, and the dead soldier guys, and all the destroyed houses, and it's kind of gross. But it's also kind of exciting.
PHELPS: So you're saying...
QUINN: It makes me wonder if there's stuff out there that I'd like as much as math. That I'd be as good at as math. (Her cheeks redden, and she again averts her gaze.) And so I was thinking, maybe I should stop doing the extra math projects so I have more time for other stuff.
(She looks at him. The piano has stopped playing, emphasizing the silence at her table. Finally, Phelps exhales slowly and fiddles with his glasses.)
PHELPS: Ms. Morgendorffer, I understand the temptation. Truly, I do. Even the most gifted individuals, when they work so hard for so long in their chosen areas, are tempted to just goof off every now and then. Go shopping, dating --
QUINN: But I never said that. I mean sure, I wouldn't mind dating and shopping more, but that's not what I was talking about.
PHELPS: No, but I've seen it before in my other math prodigies. They say "time for other things," "time for the family," but what they really mean is time to date, time to shop, time to play video games, even if they don't realize it at the time. I was hoping you wouldn't fall into that trap.
(Quinn feels the redness spread down the back of her neck.)
QUINN: Mr. Phelps, you keep calling me a "prodigy." Do you really think I'm that talented?
(Phelps looks at her seriously.)
PHELPS: I would never use that word if I didn't mean it, Ms. Morgendorffer.
(Quinn smiles faintly.)
PHELPS: Unfortunately, your gift is also something that is easy to lose. Let your focus stray, and you might lose it forever.
QUINN: Mr. Phelps, I'll always love math. It will always be a part of me. I just don't see why I can't also love something else.
PHELPS: Because we as human beings only have a finite amount of time and energy to devote to our passions. If we focus it on too many areas, our knowledge becomes thin, our understanding shallow. Hence the expression "jack of all trades, master of none."
QUINN: But, um, Dar-- some people I know seem to think it's a good thing to be smart in more than one area.
PHELPS: And would you call any of these people "prodigies"?
QUINN: I'm not sure...
PHELPS: If you hesitate, I'd guess the answer is no. Non-prodigies rarely understand a prodigy's lot in life. How could they?
(The waiter arrives with the pot of tea and sweets, which Phelps barely acknowledges with a wave of his hand. His gaze is focused intently on his student.)
PHELPS: You're so advanced now, Quinn. You're so far beyond your peers, even your sister's peers. It would hurt me deeply to see you become mediocre.
(Quinn bites her lip.)
PHELPS: I really wanted to see you through to our goal before I retired.
QUINN: You're retiring? (Phelps nods.) You're leaving me -- I mean Lawndale?! But you just started!
PHELPS: Well, it wouldn't be for at least another year. I've been teaching for many years altogether, and it's rather draining. I have a bit of property abroad that my partner and I have discussed moving to.
QUINN: I don't want you to go.
(Phelps looks at her with gentle eyes.)
PHELPS: And I don't want to leave. At least not until you've graduated.
(He takes the teapot and pours into the two saucers. Quinn watches the colored water swirl around in hers.)
QUINN: Mr. Phelps, I'm sorry about that stuff I said earlier. Now that you've explained it, I understand why doing all those extra math assignments is so important.
PHELPS: Nonsense, Ms. Morgendorffer... (He lifts the bowl of sugar cubes and offers it to Quinn. She shakes her head.) You've brought up an important point. We won't always be together, and sooner or later you'll need to learn how to maintain the focus on your own. And if you can't complete your other coursework, you'll never graduate, let alone go to the top-level university of your choice.
(His face loses expression again as he takes a sip of tea and stares off into space. To Quinn, it looks as though he is thinking many deep thoughts, though of what, she couldn't guess. Finally he turns to look at her.)
PHELPS: Let me make a proposal. I will let you pursue independent study, through which you can decide when and how to complete my extra assignments, as your schedule permits. However, before doing so, I have one last assignment for you to complete on our current schedule. If you can, you'll have shown me that you are serious about your dedication to mathematics and your intent to take it far beyond high school. It's a larger assignment than any I've given you before. Do you accept?
(Quinn thinks for a moment.)
QUINN: Okay. (nods) I'll do it.
(Phelps smiles.)