Disclaimer: This Daria and associated characters are
owned by MTV. This is fan fiction
written for entertainment only. No money
or other negotiable currency or goods have been exchanged.
Assumed
time line. Daria’s sophomore
year of high school ended in 1997, coinciding with the beginning of the
series. Hence, she would have been a
junior in 1997-1998 and graduated in 1999.
Started Raft in fall 1999, received a BA in 2003 and started graduate
school in the summer or fall of that year.
This is the first of a series
of stories set during Daria’s last summer in
Richard Lobinske
Saving One Last Summer
Summer daylight shining through
a gap in the curtains formed a bright slash across a sleeping figure that slowly
progressed with the passing of morning toward an auburn haired head. Upon reaching her eyes, the advancing
sunlight elicited a soft groan from Daria Morgendorffer and a whispered
“dammit” as she reached for her glasses.
“If it’s late enough for that little ray of sunshine, I better move
before Helen of Lawndale launches a thousand ships to wake me” Daria muttered
as she moved aside the sheet and adjusted the Mark Twain nightshirt she
wore. Looking around the grey padded
walls of her room, she paused at the Diane Fossey trophy she had received
yesterday at graduation, and allowed a small, proud smile. After years of feeling that few, if any, at
Lawndale High ever noticed her work, it was a nice feeling. The smile slid into a slight smirk as she
remembered the speech she made up as she walked to the podium, and wished she
had pictures of the class reaction. Her
smirk dropped to a grimace as “I wonder what Tom would have said about it”
crossed her mind unbidden. The lurch in
her stomach was followed by a spoken “and the bastard still hurts like hell” as
she started to the door, trying to put the recently ended relationship out of
her consciousness.
Showered, refreshed and
dressed in a green t-shirt and jeans tucked into her favorite boots, she was
starting to feel ready to face the world, or at least her mother’s need to keep
her occupied and “engaged with the rest of us”.
Almost on cue, “Good morning sweetie” drifted up the stairs from her
mother, Helen, “would you like some breakfast?”
In a lower tone, she added “Or would lunch be more appropriate?”
Daria started down the stairs
as she replied “Either is fine, as long as it comes with coffee”. In the kitchen, she poured a cup, opened a
sugar tart and wandered over to the table.
Her father, Jake, looked up
from the newspaper and let loose a cheerful “Morning Kiddo, how’s the first day
of freedom feeling?” as she sat down and picked up her section of the paper.
“Much like any other, though
I feel the freedom part is going to be short lived”, Daria stated with a side
glance toward her mother.
“Now Daria, you know how I
just don’t want you to waste such a valuable time of your life sitting around
doing nothing useful” Helen said and narrowed her eyes, “If you’re not willing
to find a useful activity for the summer, I will just have to find one for you. I’m sure Mr. O’Neal would just love to have
you help again”.
“Mom, if you do that, I will
need a lawyer” was Daria’s cross rebuttal.
She drew in a deep breath and looked down to continue, “After the
college acceptance and rejection ordeal, finals, and the whole breaking up with
Tom thing”, as she continued to speak, her shoulders dropped a little more, “could
you please give me some time to work things out before I have to find a useful
occupation?”, she lifted her eyes to meet her mother’s as she finished.
That reminder stopped Helen
in mid-stride, and then she turned and sat down next to Daria. “Oh Daria” she said, “I am so sorry, I know
you must still be hurting about Tom, but you need to learn to keep going, even
when you don’t want to”. With her voice
again dropping in tone and partially under her breath, “That’s what we all have
to do”, she added sadly. Daria’s brow
knitted both at the response and the almost predictable ring of Helen’s cell
phone. After “Hi Eric”, Daria simply
ignored the remaining conversation as her mother stood up and drifted toward
the front door. Daria nibbled her
breakfast and sipped coffee as she enjoyed the morning paper ritual with her
father. After a few minutes, Helen
quickly strode past, speaking at the same pace “Last minute meeting, must go in
today anyway, shouldn’t be any later than seven, Daria, could you please have
the lasagna ready for dinner?” With
that, the door closed and the house again fell silent except the occasional
rattle of newspaper.
Jake peaked around his paper
“Better find something quick, she’s still on the warpath over your speech
yesterday, something about you not being able to see the bright side of
anything.” His face changed from care to
rage as he shouted “Don’t I just know about being told to ‘suck it in’ and keep
going, heard that all the time from the Old Man and Corporal Ellenbogen”. As the rant continued, Daria rose and crossed
to the dish washer, draining the last of her coffee on the way before
depositing it.
“Okay Dad, I get the idea;
I’m going over to Jane’s” Daria spoke over her shoulder as she made for the
front door and passed through.
Even thought the walk was not
far, Daria was glad she chose the t shirt over her regular field jacket. The early afternoon sun and still air was
sweltering and Daria looked a bit wilted when
“Aren’t we sounding cheerful
for first thing in the afternoon” Daria said as she entered.
“I’ll have you know that I
have been up and about for hours today” Jane impishly relied, “I found out Gary’s
Gallery has done so well lately that he opened a small side gallery for
original work. So I got up this morning
and went to talk to him, and he asked me to display my work on consignment”.
Daria’s
eyes widened slightly in excitement as she heard her friend’s opportunity. “That’s
great. Now you won’t have to worry as
much about what to do this summer like I do”
Daria’ words started out matching her excitement, then fell as she
thought of another summer of enforced labor.
“So, the double-X packing parental
unit is into the summer activity frenzy already I take it”, Jane said as she led
the way upstairs to her room.
“That’s putting it lightly,
she even threatened ‘Okay to Cry Corral” duty again if I don’t’ find something
fast”, Daria groused as she dropped onto the bed with her head hanging off the
edge.
Pulling a half-consumed tube
of cookie dough off a table and pointing the remote at the TV, Jane sat on the
bed and proclaimed, “Okay, this requires serious brain food”.
As she offered the dough to
Daria, the TV announced “Bioengineering lakes with bug droppings to suit their
needs, Terraforming Insects, next on Sick Sad World”.
Hours later, Daria sat on
Jane’s bed with her arms folded in front and a look of almost desperation on
her face. “Why don’t you try something
like I worked out?” Jane queried. “Get into some serious writing jags and tell
your mother its practice for your future career. Maybe even send some in and get a little cash
out of the deal”, she added.
“The idea has merit, but Mom
would never go with it, she’d say it was too much like lounging around all
summer” Daria sighed. “The only way it
could work would be to make it look like a real job”, Daria paused with a
slight wrinkle of her eyebrows as she thought, then with brightening eyes,
“kind of like a free-lance writer. Hmm,
this could work after all”.
Jane turned and pointed her
brush at Daria, “I bet if you set up some kind of schedule to make regular
submissions, she just might go for it”.
“Careful, that thing’s
loaded”, Daria said as she ducked a small blob of paint slung off the brush,
then added after a bit more thought; “Play off her lawyer streak, present it to
her as a contract, keep her ‘involved’
in the process and leave me free to do my writing. I think we have a winner here”. Daria allowed a small smile to cross her lips
as she finished.
“Great!” exclaimed Jane, “Now
that we’ve solved your problem, maybe you can help me fill out my Financial Aid
Forms, you don’t think I’m going to able to sell enough at Gary’s to pay for
BFAC do you?
Daria said “Fine, but this is
going to require more brain fuel” as she headed to the kitchen with thoughts of
more cookie dough on her mind.
Daria slid a sheet of paper
across the table toward her mother, “Here’s the deal; I write at least one
complete story or poem every two weeks and submit it for publication. The envelope will be filled in your presence
and you will deliver said envelope to the post office to avoid any subterfuge
on my part. You will sign off on every
delivered manuscript. First late
delivery will result in a written warning, subsequent late filings will result
in loss of allowance for two weeks”.
Helen viewed the presented contract with a practiced eye as Daria
continued, “I get to practice my writing as a freelance author, get practical
experience with deadlines and the submission process, with a little luck get a
story or two published, and maybe even earn a little money at the same
time.” Daria could read the growing
acceptance on her mother’s face and moved in for coup de gras, “As an extra plus, published works will always look
good on grad school applications”.
Helen laid down the contract
with a pleased, proud smile “This looks agreeable, you have a deal. Just remember, I’m not a pushover as a boss”
as she signed the contract. “Grad school? Looks
like we may need to keep adding to your college fund” Helen continued with
further pride that here daughter was already thinking that far ahead.
As Helen made the last
comment, Daria thought “Just a little payback for all your spending on Quinn
now”. She reached across the table to
retrieve the contract and signed it herself.
“Now if you will excuse me, I would like to get to work” Daria said as
she rose from the table, then added, “I hope you realize that it would be a
better time-management learning experience for me to set my own hours”.
“I like how much initiative
you are taking on this project, of course you can set your own schedule
sweetie”, Helen said, just as she realized what that meant. Daria continued up the stairs as Helen
quietly said to herself “How does she do that”?
Daria settled into her chair
with a feeling of satisfaction and release.
Practiced mouse clicks opened the word processor and started a new
file. She picked up the small steno pad
next to the keyboard and flipped through pages until one brought her trademark
smile, “That should do nicely” she said and started typing:
The high energy laser slipped between a gap in the curtains and slashed across the bed toward the
sleeping figure. As the beam neared the
auburn haired head, Melody Powers rolled out of bed with a loud “Dammit!” as
she reached for her pistol.
Thanks to Steven Galloway,
Roentgen, Isa Yo Yo, Parker-man, Ranger Thorne, Roger E. Moore and Mahna Mahna
at PPMB for comments and critical suggestions.