SCENE 1 (Lawndale High, same day)
(Quinn walks up to Phelps's classroom and stands outside, looking in. She watches him fill the blackboard with equations, as he does before every class. Her face grows pensive and nervous.)
SANDI: (O.S.) WATCH it, you creep!
(Quinn jumps, then swerves to look. Nearby, Sandi stands with her back to the lockers, glaring at Skylar Feldman, who stands over her.)
SKYLAR: Come on, Sandi, I'd think you'd be used to that by now.
(He leans in toward her, and Sandi pushes him away.)
SANDI: Try that again, you pervert, and I'll have every girl in school spitting on you.
SKYLAR: (laughs) Oh really? Just how many friends do you think you have? (Sandi's glare darkens.) Because from what I've seen, most girls seem to think you're a lying backstabber. I've probably given you more attention in one minute than they've given you in a week.
QUINN: Which is one minute too long.
(Skylar spins around and looks at Quinn, now standing just behind him. Sandi gets a look of faint relief.)
SKYLAR: Whoa. Didn't mean to get your tampon in a twist, Quinn.
QUINN: Oh grow up, you jerk. Sandi doesn't fall for you, so you treat her like a rip in your leather interior? She's got a lot more friends than she knows. (crosses her arms.) And some of them could tell the school about that little problem you have with your nose running whenever you make out.
(Skylar goes pale.)
SKYLAR: You wouldn't --
QUINN: Try me.
(Skylar stares at her, before his bravado re-emerges.)
SKYLAR: Threatened by Phelps's "special friend"? I'm really scared.
QUINN: What?! He is so gay. He told me.
SKYLAR: Not what we see. (smiles) Ciao, ladies.
(Sandi and Quinn stare after him murderously.)
SANDI & QUINN: Loser.
QUINN: Sandi, what's going on? You're not really letting guys... do stuff to you, are you?
SANDI: Great, not you, too.
QUINN: So it's not true?
SANDI: What do you think, you idiot?
(Quinn's eyes narrow at her insult, but she persists.)
QUINN: Then why don't you tell people? Sandi, you disappear every day and you don't say where you went, and people have seen you walking around town with strange guys. So some rumors spread that you're... you know, and you could get rid of them if you just told the truth. So why don't you?
SANDI: (sneer) Sure I will. When you stop doing it with Mr. Phelps.
(Quinn's mouth drops open and her face reddens.)
QUINN: You know I haven't --!
SANDI: Relax, Quinn. I was just making a point.
(Quinn realizes that she jumped to conclusions unfairly.)
SANDI: We both know people will believe what they want to believe.
QUINN: But your friends will believe you. Look, Stacy, Tiffany, and I have been kind of worried. It's not the rumors, it's that you've been so distant. We just want to know what's happening with you.
(Sandi looks at her, debates whether to tell, then rolls her eyes with disgust.)
SANDI: You wouldn't believe me if I told you.
(She walks away in a huff, as Quinn stares at her, dumbfounded.)
QUINN: I would, too!
(Knowing Sandi is beyond earshot, she turns and walks slowly to Phelps's room.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 2 (Phelps's classroom)
(Quinn enters and stands at the back of the room. Unable to shake the conversation with Helen or Skylar's sneering insinuations, she remains silent, until Phelps feels her presence and turns around.)
PHELPS: Ms. Morgendorffer, you're two periods early. What's the occasion?
QUINN: Oh, I... um...
(She walks toward him, trying to gather her thoughts.)
QUINN: I just wanted to say sorry for the way my mother yelled at you yesterday. She's always so into her job, she never knows what she's talking about.
PHELPS: (smiles) Now, now, she wouldn't be a mother if she weren't overprotective.
QUINN: (forced laugh) I can't believe she thought you were making me do bad things. That's just stupid... right?
PHELPS: I'd prefer "a misunderstanding." The intensity with which I've been training you can be very unsettling to someone on the outside. Be gentle with her: She couldn't have known that you've finished my last project and I was going to set you free anyway.
QUINN: Yeah. (She feels herself relaxing, then frowns as the meaning of his words sinks in.) It's gonna be weird not coming to your classroom after school.
PHELPS: For me as well. When we started, I never dreamt I would get so much reward from our time.
QUINN: Mr. Phelps? Does this mean you and I won't be...
PHELPS: Won't be...?
QUINN: That, um, we won't talk to each other and stuff outside of class?
PHELPS: (understands) We'll always be friends, Ms. Morgendorffer.
QUINN: Oh. Good. (She exhales, surprised by her relief.) I know some students think I'm dumb for spending so much time with you, but I like being friends with a teacher.
PHELPS: And I've grown rather fond of you. I'll admit, when I first set eyes on you, I dismissed you as one of the "lost causes" -- a student who cared so much about the superficial that no amount of pushing would bring her grade above a C. But you surprised me with your vibrancy and focus. I'm very proud of you for the progress you've made over the past year.
QUINN: (sheepish) Mr. Phelps, what... made you know that I was worth looking out for? Compared to the really good students?
(Phelps leans against the edge of his desk, wearing a thoughtful expression.)
PHELPS: I can't recall the specific test, but I remember that I had added a bonus question with more twists and turns than the average problem, plus one unexpected step. Everyone got it wrong, including my A students. It wasn't in the textbook, so they couldn't study it. Only one person guessed correctly.
QUINN: (remembers) Oh.
PHELPS: I asked you to come see me after class and explain how you had solved the problem. I thought that if you'd cheated, I would find out then. But you explained your steps from start to finish. I asked, "How did you know how to do this?" And you said...
QUINN: How else could it be done?
PHELPS: That's exactly right. It was so instinctive, you just knew -- never dreaming that other students wouldn't have done the same thing. Many students are smart enough to learn the right steps and apply them quickly. Fewer have the innate ability to think outside the box. That's when I realized that you were special and decided to keep an eye on you.
(Quinn smiles, her face flushing at his praise.)
PHELPS: My only concern was whether you had the drive to achieve. But you did it. Before long, you didn't even need my help anymore. You did it on your own.
(Quinn's eyes meet those of Mr. Phelps. For once, she doesn't feel a sense of intimidation or awe, but rather that she is with an equal, and that he feels the same way about her.)
QUINN: (shy) I'd better go to my next class.
PHELPS: Yes, you wouldn't want to be late.
(Quinn turns and starts to head out. Then she turns back.)
QUINN: Mr. Phelps, why wouldn't you let me take the Advanced Placement exam?
(Phelps stares at her. He was unprepared for this shift in subject matter.)
PHELPS: Oh yes, that. You see, more seniors had passed into the A.P.-level classes than I had anticipated, which left no room for junior transfers such as yourself. It had nothing to do with my confidence in your ability.
QUINN: That's the only reason?
PHELPS: Yes. When the next exam period comes along, you'll be signed up.
(The worry that imprinted itself on Quinn's face eases slowly.)
PHELPS: As I told your sister --
QUINN: You talked to Daria?
(Phelps notes the surprise in her tone, and his expression relaxes.)
PHELPS: We spoke yesterday.
QUINN: What did she want?
PHELPS: Well... (He pauses to look about the classroom, which is still empty of students.) She was trying to transfer you out of my class.
(The color drains from Quinn's cheeks.)
QUINN: What?
PHELPS: She was very insistent, no matter how often I told her that it was your decision, not hers.
QUINN: Why would she do that?
PHELPS: That's a very good question, Ms. Morgendorffer.
QUINN: She was acting weird, saying you were trying to get me to do things. But I never thought she would go that far.
PHELPS: Does your sister have an active imagination?
QUINN: Sure, she's a writer.
PHELPS: Is it possible that she got caught up in one of her fantasies and let it distort her perception of reality?
QUINN: Maybe. Once when she was really sick, she dreamt that holidays were living at our house. But she hasn't been sick lately.
PHELPS: I'll confess that her brazenness did take me by surprise.
(Quinn's face takes on a stricken expression.)
QUINN: I can't believe... you mean she just came here and ordered you to transfer me?!
PHELPS: Oh now, don't be too upset with Daria -- I'm sure she has a good explanation. She's your sister, after all.
(Barely hearing him, Quinn turns to leave. Although Phelps watches her go with genuine sympathy, his lips turn upward imperceptibly.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 3 (Jake's apartment, Friday)
(Outside shot of the apartment complex.)
JAKE: (V.O.) You got suspended, kiddo?!
(Cut to shot of Daria and Quinn seated on Jake's couch, watching the large-screen television. The screen is divided in two, with one half showing Fashion Vision and the other Sick Sad World. Jake appears before them with a cooking spoon, which he waves angrily.)
JAKE: Why didn't Helen tell me?! It's just like her to keep all of the important stuff from old Jakey because she thinks I can't handle it!
DARIA: There, there. It'll be all right.
JAKE: I knew it. You're acting out without the presence of a father figure. I need to bond with you some more!
QUINN: Dad, could you move? You're blocking my side of the T.V.
JAKE: Oh.
(He steps away quickly, his expression still worried.)
DARIA: Relax Dad. She probably didn't tell you because it's only been a couple of days and she's been trying to get it revoked.
JAKE: This could go on your permanent record! They send people to military school for stuff like this!
DARIA: Where my acting out would be encouraged as long as none of my targets could sue.
JAKE: That's not... (He pauses and tilts his head upward to sniff.) Wait a minute, what's that -- GAH! My risotto!
(He races toward the kitchen, leaving Daria and Quinn alone. Quinn glances at Daria, her shock after talking with Phelps overshadowed by new shock at her sister's predicament. Daria sighs heavily, betraying the frustration she has felt since Ms. Li suspended her.)
QUINN: (quiet) When did you write for the underground paper? I don't remember that.
DARIA: Nor would you. I started last spring and didn't tell anyone.
QUINN: Not even Jane?
DARIA: Except for Jane.
(Quinn turns away to reflect. Daria grows annoyed at her awkward behavior.)
DARIA: Would you stop treating me like an animal you've been assigned to study? Yes, I wrote for a non-school-sanctioned newspaper and I've lived to tell about it.
QUINN: But you were with those guys...
DARIA: What guys?
QUINN: Those freaks. I knew about some of the students who got in trouble, Daria. Guys like that Danny (shudders) were in my classes, and he would always talk about "shooting up" or driving drunk across rich people's lawns at night.
DARIA: (grim) I never witnessed such acts firsthand.
QUINN: Why would you hang out with people like him instead of...
DARIA: Jane? (Quinn gazes at her a moment, then looks away.) Let's just say that I was in a bad place emotionally, with the problems in our family really getting to me. I met a group of pretty nice kids from less than stellar backgrounds, and we united in the common goal of putting out a quality newspaper. It was a noble idea while it lasted, and I still think that a lot of the staffers have gotten a bad rap.
QUINN: (uneasy) Oh. Okay.
DARIA: What?
QUINN: That paper was weird. I once looked at some of the articles and the tone seemed really nasty.
DARIA: You actually read something an unpopular person wrote? What, did you forget your glasses and think it was the latest issue of Waif?
QUINN: I just didn't think you were like that.
DARIA: Yes, well, you'd be surprised at the range and depth of my emotions.
(Quinn's expression darkens. Just then Jake pops his head in.)
JAKE: Say girls, who needs slaving over a hot stove? What do you say we order a pizza?
DARIA: Fine.
QUINN: Whatever.
JAKE: Great!
(He disappears inside the kitchen to make the call.)
DARIA: You won't tell anyone what happened, will you? I don't want to deal with any annoying questions. Have you told anyone?
QUINN: Like I would do that. I'm embarrassed enough just knowing it myself.
DARIA: Aw thanks. You should coordinate with Jane, then, to come up with an excuse for my absence. One that doesn't have me stranded in the middle of the ocean with just my copy of The Old Man and the Sea.
(Quinn nods, looks as if she wants to say something more, then falls silent. She and Daria watch their shows until Jake reappears and shuts off the television. He sits down in a chair beside them.)
JAKE: Okay girls, pizza's gonna be here in thirty minutes, so what do you say we pass the time with a little Dad-and-daughter bonding? No need to bring up the S-word -- we can talk about sports. The, um, other S-word.
(His daughters give him a look.)
JAKE: Okay, no sports. How about music! ("cool" voice.) So... what's hip with the scene?
(Daria and Quinn exchange looks. Jake reaches under the coffee table and produces a board game.)
JAKE: Scrabble for your thoughts?
DARIA: Um, Dad?
JAKE: Yeah, kiddo?!
DARIA: We're very flattered by all the attention you give us...
QUINN: ...but it's kind of hard to feel like we're at home with you hovering around all the time.
DARIA: Like having a helper monkey that's suffered a compound fracture to the skull.
JAKE: It's just that I have such a short time with you girls. I want you to get the most out of it, so you don't resent me the way I resent my father.
DARIA: I'm sure that won't --
JAKE: God knows my father couldn't even bother to spend five lousy minutes caring about what I wanted. No shooting the breeze with little Jakey.
QUINN: Dad, that's --
JAKE: "Real men don't talk about their problems, son." Real men don't have problems, he meant! You shove them way down where no one can see them, until they fester and boil, only to explode when you least expect it, wreaking untold havoc on your life and loved ones FOREVER!
QUINN: Dad! Forget your dad. He's not here.
DARIA: While the minutes you have to spend with us are ticking away.
JAKE: Oh! Of course. (He sobers up.) I just meant, if only I had you for more than one night.
DARIA: How many nights were you thinking?
JAKE: Two... three, maybe?
QUINN: If I have to stay here more often, I want my own bed. Sharing one with your sister is creepy when you're our age, Dad. We're not little kids.
DARIA: For Dad, it would be creepy at any age.
QUINN: And there's no privacy here. Nothing feels like it's mine.
JAKE: But honey... we could fix that.
DARIA: What about your teaching?
JAKE: Oh, that's almost over.
QUINN: What about her?
(Daria winces a little, then looks at Jake, who tries his best to stay cool.)
JAKE: Well, of course we'd have to, um, discuss how she'll fit in. But once you meet her, I think you two will love Sarah. She's a real neat woman.
DARIA: So she does have a name.
QUINN: She's not spending the night here, is she??
JAKE: Of course not, not while you're here.
DARIA: But she does... spend the night.
(Jake goes ashen, realizing what he's given away.)
JAKE: Some... times.
(His daughters fall silent, their faces growing pale and angry. After a few moments, Quinn stands up.)
QUINN: I'm going for a walk.
JAKE: Honey, the food will be here soon.
QUINN: I'm not hungry.
(She strides over to the door.)
JAKE: Just don't... (The door closes hard behind her.) ... go too far.
(Morose, he looks at Daria, who averts her gaze until, slowly, she lifts her head to look him in the eye.)
DARIA: (quiet) Are you and Mom getting a divorce?
(Jake's shoulders sag.)
JAKE: I don't know. We haven't talked about it since... (winces) ...you know.
DARIA: Does it feel like you're going to?
JAKE: Sometimes it does. Other times, no.
(Daria exhales softly, with frustration.)
DARIA: When will you be introducing us to your mystery woman?
JAKE: I wanted to wait until we were all a little more settled, so you and Quinn wouldn't blame her for anything that's happened.
DARIA: Then I guess we'll never meet her.
(cut to: )
SCENE 4 (Daria's room, the next day)
(Jane enters with a list of assignments in hand, and finds Daria on her knees on the floor, digging under her bed.)
JANE: What kind of twisted juvie cleans out her room during her time off? (lays the list on Daria's desk, gazes about.) Or are you competing in the World Packrat Extreme Challenge?
(Across the floor, on Daria's bed, her bedside table, and her desk, sit large piles of books and notebooks, as well as odds and ends like bones, wrinkled clothing, and scribbles on lined paper.)
DARIA: I'm looking for the secret vortex beneath my bed, which would explain how I hid so much crap without the floor boards giving way.
JANE: "Crap"? These are some of your classics. (She picks up one notebook from the top of the pile and flips through.) Melody Powers goes back in time and tries to stop Hitler from being conceived. Heh, love how she slipped estrogen into the guy's coffee...
DARIA: (cheeks reddening) You know it's crap when reciting the plot points just makes it sound stupider. Anyway, I'm not running inventory of past work. I'm looking for one of my journals.
JANE: I could help you there. What does it look like?
DARIA: That's the problem. My journals don't have a distinct look. I just write on what's around and hope the historians will piece it together.
JANE: Why do you need it?
DARIA: My mom thought that if I had evidence, we could strengthen our case against the suspension.
JANE: What happened to confronting that Damien guy?
DARIA: Once he regained consciousness, to his credit, he called the school right away to say I was innocent. Yet somehow Ms. Li had trouble accepting the word of an irresponsible egomaniac who looked the other way as his staffers trashed her school.
JANE: Is he gonna suffer any punishment?
DARIA: Who knows? But his staffers are gone and his underground media empire destroyed. For someone like Damien, that's worse than if he were put in jail.
JANE: And you're stuck looking for credibility amongst the dust balls.
DARIA: I remembered that I'd written down almost everything about the underground in a journal, and have thus spent the better part of the afternoon looking for it.
JANE: Journal with vindicating evidence? Got it.
(She starts sifting through the pile of books, giving each a closer inspection.)
DARIA: So how are things on the school side of life?
JANE: Absolutely riveting. Yesterday Kevin entranced the entire lunchroom with his ability to eat corn dogs at lightening speed, while Brittany shocked and amazed with her talent for being adoring and vacant at the same time.
DARIA: Let's see them do that while walking over hot coals.
JANE: Some students have been asking about you. I told them you were taking a college tour with your parents.
DARIA: That excuse sounds a little dull for Jane Lane.
JANE: Where they would conduct experiments on your brain. (Daria gives her a look.) Kidding!
DARIA: I never thought I would miss school. Some day, I'm sure I will.
JANE: The teachers have been counting the minutes until you return. Imagine them having to prop up an entire class with their skill.
DARIA: I hope the Lawndale Suicide Hotline hasn't overloaded.
JANE: Mr. DeMartino even asked about you.
(Daria gets a sour look.)
DARIA: Great.
JANE: Hey, at least it wasn't you-know-who. Have you thought about whether he's...?
DARIA: (sighing) Yes, my mom and I discussed whether Phelps blew my cover. And while it's possible, given his recent threats, the evidence is far from conclusive. Ms. Li was conducting her witch hunt long before I even spoke to Phelps. For now, all I can do is tuck my suspicions away in an ever-growing file.
JANE: Other than that, how are things on the home front?
DARIA: Not too bad. Mom stopped threatening to bring me to her office to file depositions once she realized I've spent my time off actually doing school work. And with the house to myself, let's just say that my Tom Cruise impression has gotten a lot sharper.
JANE: Should I be worried?
DARIA: I know my penalty is a week at most, but this whole thing sucks. I got suspended. It'll be on my record, and I wasn't even guilty.
JANE: Yeah, at least if you had been guilty, you could take some twisted pleasure in the whole thing.
DARIA: It's almost enough to make me wish I were.
JANE: Hey, be glad you're not headed for the gulag like you thought. No shoveling coal in Phys Ed class.
DARIA: True. (Something occurs to her.) Did Andrea ask where I was?
JANE: No. Come to think of it... I haven't seen her.
(She and Daria exchange troubled looks.)
DARIA: So, anything new outside of school?
JANE: Speaking of college tours, I'll soon be taking one with Tom and his mother.
DARIA: (brightening) You are going to college?
JANE: Not so fast, Morgendorffer, I haven't made up my mind yet. And even if I had, I sure as hell wouldn't be going Bromwell, Princeton, or any of those snob schools.
DARIA: Then why the trip?
JANE: To support Tom, who would otherwise be stuck discussing charity fundraisers every minute he and his mother were alone. Plus, Kay Sloane hates me.
DARIA: And trapping yourself in a car with her is good because...?
JANE: Half the reason she suggested this trip is because she thought I'd refuse, and then she could spend quality car time convincing Tom that I was all wrong for him. (smiles wickedly.) Instead, I get to watch her strain to hide her disgust under a thin veil of upper-crust civility.
DARIA: Sounds like quite a trip.
JANE: Care to wager on who will return with their sanity intact?
DARIA: Too unpredictable. (She looks at one of her books reflectively.) I hope you and Tom manage to stay on good terms until then, because I may need him. Possibly this week.
JANE: For what?
DARIA: I've been trying to get back in touch with that Fielding Prep administrator. The e-mail I sent him bounced back and he hasn't responded to my phone messages.
JANE: That doesn't sound promising.
DARIA: Still, he's the only one to give me clues that Phelps is up to something bad. I need to press him to be specific -- did Phelps really steal a bunch of money and could he be doing it at Lawndale? Quinn won't believe me otherwise.
JANE: So what do you need Tom for?
DARIA: I may have to visit the guy in person, and I'll need a student to get me past the security gate.
JANE: I'm sure Tom would be glad to help.
DARIA: If that jerk Phelps thought that threatening me would curb my desire to learn the truth, he should have known better.
JANE: I hope some day Quinn appreciates what you're doing.
(cut to: )
SCENE 5 (Fielding Preparatory Academy, Tuesday)
(Daria walks with Tom past a wide green lawn, toward an impressive series of Gothic-looking buildings. Tom wears Fielding's uniform of a dark suit coat and tie, which Daria smirks at with quiet amusement.)
DARIA: I almost didn't recognize you in your Prince of Wales get-up.
TOM: This coat is great for hiding murder weapons.
(They enter one of the buildings, and Daria finds herself surrounded by students in dark suits on their way to various classes. She suddenly feels self-conscious, and focuses her eyes on the high ceiling and stained glass windows.)
DARIA: Will Quasimodo be ringing the dinner bell?
TOM: It's his week off. Come on -- the administrators' offices are down this hallway.
(Daria follows Tom past a row of doors, each with a gold plaque bearing the administrator's name beside it. At last, they come upon a partially open door with the plaque "Marshall Winsett IV, Esq." Tom starts to enter, but Daria pulls him back.)
DARIA: Wait, Tom.
TOM: You'll need a witness.
DARIA: I don't want to get you into trouble. You can listen from out here.
TOM: (doubtful) Okay.
(Daria enters a spacious office, where the walls are lined with bookcases. At the far end are a large mahogany desk and two ornate chairs. Marshall Winsett sits behind the desk in a leather swivel chair, partially turned away, his attention on a phone call. Daria walks toward his desk just as he's about to end it.)
MARSHALL: (into the phone) Yes, I agree, those are the areas in greatest need of funding... (Pause) I'll definitely present it to the board... (He turns, sees Daria, and his eyes widen.) Yes... you, too. Thank you for calling. Good day.
(He lays down the phone gently, his eyes locked with Daria's. As when they met the first time, neither speaks for a moment.)
DARIA: Mr. Winsett? You remember me, don't you?
MARSHALL: Yes, Daria, I remember you.
DARIA: Um, I've been trying to get a hold of you. I didn't want to bother you in person, but I couldn't reach you any other way.
MARSHALL: We've had a few bugs in our system lately. The repairmen are still trying to get it in working order.
(He says this in a pleasant, detached manner. Daria feels as though his manner is different, but can't quite figure out how.)
DARIA: That's all right. I just wanted to ask... um, about the conversation we had a couple of weeks ago about Mr. Phelps.
MARSHALL: About his time at Fielding, yes.
DARIA: (blushes) And certain rumors that were going around school.
MARSHALL: Daria, there are so many rumors about teachers flying around, it's difficult to keep track of them all.
DARIA: These rumors involved the possible siphoning of money, an activity that could still be going on at his current school.
MARSHALL: I don't recall what you're talking about.
(A beat, as Daria frowns with confusion. She glances behind her, wondering if Marshall is concerned about being overheard.)
DARIA: If you'd like a refresher, we could meet again at a cafe.
MARSHALL: That would be very nice, but I'm afraid my schedule is booked up for the next several weeks.
(Daria's eyes narrow a little as she probes his demeanor.)
DARIA: You don't have any spare time?
MARSHALL: Unfortunately, no. Now I'm sorry, Daria, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave so I can prepare for a meeting this afternoon.
DARIA: Mr. Winsett, I told you before, one of my family members might be caught up in Mr. Phelps's scheme. She could be in danger and I need to know the truth.
(She gazes at Marshall with fierce eyes, and for a moment he seems to waiver. Then he regains his professional detachment.)
MARSHALL: I wish you good luck in finding your answers.
DARIA: But --
MARSHALL: Good day.
(Daria presses her lips together, her cheeks reddening with frustration. When it's clear that Marshall won't budge, she turns toward the door.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 6 (Morgendorffer house, that evening)
(Helen has just gotten home and is sorting through the daily mail on the kitchen table. Her expression is marred by a scowl.)
HELEN: Honest to God, don't First Amendment rights mean anything these days?! After the debacle with the Zero Tolerance policy, one would think the school would be a little more--!
(She sees Daria enter the kitchen and immediately tones down her manner.)
DARIA: No success, huh?
HELEN: I'm afraid not. Ever since the outbreak of school shootings, the laws and the courts have given schools so much authority, they can do just about whatever they want. And good students like yourself pay the price.
(Daria cocks a weary eyelid and opens the refrigerator.)
HELEN: Did you find your journal?
DARIA: Yes.
HELEN: You did?? Why didn't you tell me?
DARIA: Because it cuts off. I'd forgotten about how much I wrote about my time on the underground. The journal I found describes how I joined, but not how I left. I can't find the journal that tells the rest.
HELEN: I'm sorry, sweetie. At least your suspension lasts one more day -- then everything will go back to normal.
(Daria finds a soda and opens it, unsure if this is true. She is about to leave, when Helen waves her back.)
HELEN: Daria, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about. (She opens her briefcase on the table and pulls out several sheets of paper.) Are these the problem sets you found on Quinn's desk?
(Daria comes over and her eyes widen. The rows of numbers are all there, beneath which is Quinn's -- what can only be described as -- bouncy writing.)
DARIA: Yes, that's them.
HELEN: And this is your sister's writing, correct?
DARIA: Yes.
HELEN: After Mr. Phelps faxed these over last week, I asked a junior associate to investigate them, since his younger brother is an econ major in college.
DARIA: And??
HELEN: He told me... they're statistics. The type normally found in a college- level class.
(Daria's face falls.)
DARIA: That's all?
HELEN: He said he was very impressed that Quinn was doing such challenging work at her age.
DARIA: And there was nothing about them that seemed... off the mark?
HELEN: Not that either of us could see. He even showed me a textbook section that was similar. (She notes Daria's expression.) I want to get a confirmation from Quinn, but if this is true...
DARIA: It means my suspicions of Phelps are unfounded.
HELEN: I wouldn't go that far. However, I will suggest that for now, you let them rest. There's no use fretting when, as far as we know, Quinn's not doing anything illegal and Mr. Phelps has promised to not give her extra work. Let's just see what else we learn, all right?
(Daria nods, her expression gloomy.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 7 (Daria's room, a short time later)
(Daria sits on the bed, talking to Jane on the phone, her journal lying in her lap.)
JANE: (O.S.) Maybe that Winsett guy was worried that talking would set off fireworks that would hurt his precious school.
DARIA: I hope so, because I didn't just dream it. It happened. I know Marshall Winsett told me about Phelps stealing. I know it was more than just a rumor.
JANE: (O.S.) And even if he's not stealing, he might be cheating.
DARIA: Precisely. Why would Quinn even tell me about it unless some part of her thought it was wrong? (frowns) Of course, since then she's fiercely denied it.
(She flips open her journal and sees one of her old entries: "By imagining the guy really is using Quinn for his own sordid purposes, I create a ready adversary for myself against whom I can exercise control that I haven't been able to find at home or elsewhere.")
(Daria reads this, then exhales quietly and gazes at the ceiling.)