#timothy o'niell

[fardell24b]

A New Kid’s Dance Party While a Tree Grows - Part 1

A New Kid’s Dance Party While a Tree Grows Part 1

Day 1

Lawndale High Principal Angela Li, entered the Art classroom. “Good morning, students,” she paused. “Where is your instructor?”

 “She went to the ladies' room,” Brittany Taylor said.

 The Principal produced a tape recorder. “10:25, Defoe leaves post without clearance for personal business. Initiate investigation.” She clicked off the tape recorder, and turned to the class. “Anyway, I just dropped in to caution you that the school dance is in three weeks, and security is going to be especially tight. So, if anyone is thinking of rigging a bucket of pig's blood to the rafters, well, they can just forget it.”

  In the corridor after class, Jodie Landon caught up with Daria Morgendorffer. “Hey, Daria. I didn't see you today. You said you might come to the photography meeting for yearbook.”

 “Yes, well, when the dentist turned off the gas, I had a change of heart,” Daria snarked back.

 “But it's fun, and it looks good on your transcript,” Jodie argued.

 “I'm against both those things.”

 “Free film and developing.”

 “Mmm-hmm...”

 “And if your parents find out that you're even considering it, you could probably squeeze some tremendous bribe out of them,” Jodie suggested.

 “I'll think about it.”

  Down the corridor, Kevin Thompson said, “The dance is going to be cool.”

 Brittany slapped Kevin “You callous oaf!”

 “Ow! What?”

 “Did you forget the last dance, when I caught you making out with Zoe?!”

 “For the 50th time, Babe, I was fixing her nose ring!”

 “What do you think, I'm stupid and stuff?”

 “Hey, I've already told you, smart doesn't matter with a body like mine... I mean yours.”

 “Hmph! For your information, there are plenty of guys who think I'm pretty and smart!”

 “You can visit them at the Cedars of Lawndale head injury ward,” Daria snarked.

 “Ooh, I'm sick of this! Maybe it's time I find someone who really appreciates me!” Brittany retorted.

 “Maybe I should find someone who really appreciates me!”

 “Give me a break!” Jodie snarked.

 “Then you just go ahead and do that because it's, it's over! And this time I mean it!” Brittany said.

 “Maybe I should find someone who really appreciates me!” Kevin said as he ran off.

 “Is it true. They have finally broken up?” Jodie asked Daria.

 “I doubt it. I think they’ve mated for life,” Daria answered.

  Even in the middle of the school day, there were students hanging around the front of the school. However those students were surprised to see Kevin Thompson leave the school building at a running pace, like he was running for a ball that wasn’t there. The analogy seemed to be correct, as less than half minute later, without looking where he was going, he ran straight into the Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree and fell over, clutching his knee in pain...

 “Hey, you broke the Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree,” Jeffy Brown accused.

 “Good thing he's dead or he'd really let you have it,” Joey Green said.

  Mr. O’Neill had asked one of his language arts classes if they would have liked to volunteer for the Dance Committee.

 After remembering a bad experience regarding volunteering in Middle School, Sandi Griffin turned to Quinn Morgendorffer. “Gee, Quinn, I think you should volunteer. You have such good taste.”

 “Um, but you have even better taste, Sandi. You should volunteer,” Quinn returned.

 “I know, why don't you take the job and appoint the Fashion Club as your committee? Of course, if you don't think we're up to it then just say so.”

 “Um, okay, I guess. Mr. O'Neill, I'll head the dance committee.”

 “Really? Great! Get ready to work like you've never worked before!”

 “Oh, I'll have the Fashion Club to help me. Right, guys? Guys?”

  After that period... “Did you hear, Brittany? Kevin was taken to the hospital after running into the Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree,” Angie Zammit said, as she came up to her fellow cheerleaders.

 “Serves him right, the Jerk!” Brittany said. After their argument earlier, she had difficulty feeling compassionate.

 “Brittany?” Angie asked with concern.

 “I’ve had it, Kevin and I are finally over for good! I’m not seeing him in the hospital!”

 “Is it over-over, like the time he got you a football for your birthday, or just over, like the time he thought your goldfish needed air?”

 “No, this time it's really over-over. And as fellow cheerleaders, you have to swear on a stack of pompoms not to go to the dance with that two-timing, scum of the earth, Kevin.”

 “Are you sure?” Angie asked.

 “You can visit him in the hospital if you want to,” Brittany conceded. “But don’t go to the dance with him!”

 All four other cheerleaders said “We solemnly swear not to go to the dance with that two-timing, scum of the earth, Kevin. Yay, team!”

  That night at the Morgendorffer’s...

 “I can't believe you're trying to bribe me... with singles,” Daria said.

 “Sweetie, it's not a bribe, it's a deal. Honestly, you're worse than my clients,” Her mother, Helen, said.

 “I'm sorry. Yearbooks completely distort the reality of high school. Of course, the yearbook experience could provide material for a web page... if I had the software,”

 “Software it is!” Her father, Jake, said as he grabbed the stack of cash.

 The doorbell rang.

 “Charity bloodsuckers!” Jake said.

 “No, it's the fashion bloodsuckers,” Daria said.

 “Everyone, please remain in your seats until my guests and I are all safely upstairs. Thank you,” Quinn said from the entrance to the kitchen, before heading towards the door.

 “How come Quinn never introduces us to her friends?” Jake asked.

 The phone rang. Helen picked it up “Hello? ... Rita!”

Jake heard a noise outside and went to investigate...

[fardell24b]

Quinn’s Code - Stacy the Brain

Stacy the Brain

Thursday, March 9, 2006

Lawndale

Lawndale High

Mr. Timothy O'Neil was handing out graded essays. “Now, as I'm handing back your essays, you may have strong feelings about the competitive and discouraging aspects of grading,” he said. He gave reassuring looks to each of the students.

 Once he finished he went back to his desk and said. “I care about what you have to say. Who would like to start?”

 Jamie White raised his hand. “Is an F+ the same as a D-?” he asked, wondering what the answer would be.

 “I don't believe I've ever heard of an F+, Jordan, but we can talk about it,” O'Neil said. He wanted to reassure him.

 “OK,” Jamie said.

 “I think you failed,” his friend Jeffy Brown said.

  “Eggplant! I thought he said eggshell!” Stacy said to the girl beside her.

 “That must have been confusing,” the girl said.

 Stacy nodded.

 The teacher then said, “Stacy? Was there something you wanted to say?”

 Stacy looked at her table and the tables nearby to ensure that she wasn't mistaken. “Um, I didn't get my essay back,” she said, her heart racing.

 “That's true, Stacy. I'm afraid I need to see you after class.”

 “Oh, OK,” Stacy said, breathing heavily, and her heart beating faster.

 “Relax!” the girl beside her said, reassuringly.

 Stacy closed her eyes and breathed deep breaths.

 “Oh, dear!” Mr. O'Neill said.

 “I'm fine,” Stacy said.

  After class Stacy walked up to the front of the classroom with trepidation.

 “Stacy, I'm so sorry, but we need to talk about your performance,” Mr. O'Neil said.

“OK...” Stacy said in a slight panic, although slightly less than earlier.

 “Let's go over our last assignment, "How I feel about polyculturalism." You wrote, a few lines about various clothing that people wear around the world.”

 “I didn't copy it! I know plagiarism is bad.”

 “No, no, I believe you. The thing is... now I don't want to panic or upset you -- please, take this in a constructive spirit -- but I'm afraid you're not doing well in Language Arts.”

 “I'm not!” Stacy started breathing harder. “How badly?”

 “Well... You're going to have to get an A on your next essay to maintain a passing grade!” the teacher said in concern.

 “Oh, G. Oh G.!” Stacy then broke down in tears.

 “I'm a failure! And now I'll have to repeat freshman year!”

 “You can do it, Stacy! You know, when I was in high school, I wanted more than anything to be on the high school gymnastic team, but I just couldn't master the high bar. So I practiced every day...” Mr. O'Neill said, before being intrrupted.

  Stacy didn't want to hear about Mr. O'Neil's story in her distress (or at all, but especially in her distress.)

 “No! Mr. O'Neill!” Stacy said as she ran off.

 “Stacy, Wait!”

 But Stacy left the classroom.

 “Oh dear!” He went back to his desk. 'She didn't take that too well,' he thought. He took a notepad out of his desk and began to draft a letter to her parents.

Friday, March 10, 2006

Stacy arrived home from school, on time, as usual for a Friday.

 “Anastasia! Is that you?” her mother called from the kitchen.

 “Eep!”

 “Come here.”

 Stacy went to the kitchen. Her mother showed her a letter. “This came from school. Your teacher says that you're failing Language Arts. Why didn't you tell me?” Her expression was such that Stacy saw that she wanted an answer, pronto.

 “I didn't know that it was so bad! Mr. O'Neil didn't tell me anything until yesterday,” Stacy answered, her head lowered.

 “I see. That Ms. Li has too much security fever on her brain to see that her teachers are incomptent.”

 “I'm a failure!” Stacy cried. “I'm not going to get anywhere in life!”

 Her mother didn't like that! “Anastasia! Don't say that. Stop putting yourself down. You will complete that essay, hand it in and get an A. No dates, tonight or this weekend. And no phone calls to that Sandi. It appears that she's a bad influence.”

 Yes, Mom,” Stacy said as she tried to put on a brave face.

 “But right now, you're going to help me make dinner...”

 “Sure,” Stacy said, as her mother opened one of the kitchen cupboards. “What are we making?” she asked.

 “Some bolognaise.”

 Stacy nodded.

  Later that night. Stacy began to write her essay. “Now, what does Mr. O'Neil want for this essay?” Stacy's mother asked.

 Stacy read from the top of the paper. “Express your feelings about school.”

 “OK, start with what school is supposed to be like, and then write down your feelings in a way that O'Neill would like.”

 “Okay.”

 Stacy began by writing the title and her name.

 Academic Imprisonment

By Anastasia 'Stacy' Rowe

 “Academic Imprisonment?”

 “It does feel like a prison!” Stacy said.

 'I guess that impression would be accurate in this time of stress,' Elizabeth Rowe thought.

 As Stacy began writing the essay she placed a few dots at the beginning.

 We...

 “Well?” her mother asked.

 “I've started!” Stacy retorted.

 “Well?” her mother asked.

…

  By the end of the night, with repeated encouragement from her mother, Stacy had finished the introduction.

   Monday, March 13, 2006

Stacy approached the Language Arts classroom with a great deal of trepidation. 'What if it's not good enough,' she thought, not for the first time.

 She paused at the door. After a few seconds she had gathered up the confidence to enter. “Mr. O'Neill?”

 “Stacy?”

 “Here's the essay,” she said as she handed it in and avoiding eye contact with him.

 “Thanks, Stacy,” the teacher said, but she was already on her way to the back of the class. 'I hope this is good enough!' he thought.

  For the rest of the day, Stacy worried about whether it was good enough. As soon as school let out, she did something she didn't usually do. She took the bus home, knowing that it would be quicker than if she had walked, or ran.

  Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Once again the Freshman Language Arts class was in session. “I have a special surprise everyone. One of our students has so improved since last week's essay, I'm going to share her work with the class,” Mr. O'Neill said.

 Stacy didn't take much notice, until Mr. O'Neill said her name. “Stacy?”

 “I didn't get my essay back,” she said in trepidation. She wondered if Mr. O'Neill was going to say the words she had dreaded since last Friday.

 “That's right, Stacy, because I'm going to read it aloud!”

 “Oh no!”

 “Academic Imprisonment, by Anastasia Rowe...”

 Stacy slid down in her seat as far as she could go.

  After class... “Sta-cy! I am shocked and dismayed, for a member of the Fashion Club to have a such a high mark...”

 “But, Sandi...”

 Sandi interuppted. “No buts,”

 “...I needed the high mark to maintain a passing grade for freshman year!” She hoped that Sandi would believe her.

 Her hopes failed; “I doubt that, Stacy. You're on sabattical”

 “No, Sandi!”

 “Yes, you are, until you get your priorities straight.”

  Unknown to Sandi, she was overheard, down the hall by three other freshmen, Quinn Morgendorffer, Cindy Brolsma and Kristen Leung-Bell.

  “Did you hear that, Quinn?” Cindy asked.

 “Yes,” Quinn answered. “It doesn't sound good!”

 “How does Sandi think she could get away with that?” Kristen asked, shaking her head.

 “I don't know, but Stacy sounds like she's nearly had enough of it!” Quinn added.

 “So, we should keep an eye on the situation?” Cindy asked.

 “I agree,” Quinn said.

 Kristen nodded.

   Wednesday, March 15, 2006

In Homeroom, Quinn grabbed a copy of the Lawndale Lowdown, the School Paper. She was surprised to see Stacy's essay in it. 'Why would Mr. O'Neil put it in the School Paper?' she wondered. She knew that something was going to come of it, but she wasn't sure what.

  In her own Homeroom, Stacy opened the Lawndale Lowdown and almost fainted to see her essay in there. 'Why, Mr. O'Niell, why?' She started breathing heavily. Soon she felt someone's hand on her shoulder. She jumped. She turned and saw that it was Kristen.

 “Are you OK?” Kristen asked. Her voice showed concern.

 “Yes,” Stacy answered.

 Kristen gave a look of sympathy.

“No!” Stacy said, changing her answer.

 “What's wrong?”

 Stacy sighed. “It's Sandi! She didn't like that I got an A for the essay, notwithstanding that I needed it to maintain a passing grade! But now...” she trailed off.

 “You're afraid that she's going to yell at you?” Kristen asked.

 “It's not just that, but what she might be yelling.”

 “I see,” Kristen responded.She knew what Stacy meant.

 “I don't know what to do!” Stacy said.

 “We have the same class next. I'll come with you to there,” Kristen offered.

 “That would be great! Thanks!” Stacy then gave Kristen a hug.

 “Um, don't mention it...”

  Stacy's fears were well founded. Sandi had also seen the essay in the paper. Bad enough that Quinn, despite her Geek status, was still as popular as ever, but now Stacy's popularity was in the ascendancy (not that she would ever admitt to anyone that she knew that word)!

The first person from the Fashion Club she met after leaving Homeroom in a huff was Tori. “You have seen the Lowdown,” she stated.

 “Yes!”

 “It's not her fault!” Tori said.

 “Oh, really?”

 “I'm sure Mr. O'Neil is the one who actually put it in the paper.”

 “I don't care!”

 “Please, don't be too rough on Stacy!” Tori said, with a slight begging tone. Sandi just continued walking towards class.

  The first class of the day for the freshmen was Math. The teacher was not yet in attendence when Stacy arrived with Kristen, with Cindy and Quinn close behind. Nor was Sandi.

 But not for long, Sandi, Tori and Tiffany approached the classroom from the opposite direction. Sandi brandished a copy of the Lowdown that she had taken off an unfortunate member of the football team. She marched up to Stacy, opened the paper to the poem and asked; “Sta-cy! What is the meaning of this?”

 Stacy stammered. “Mr Mr. O'Neil put it in. I didn't!”

 “School isn't a prison! It's an opportunity!”

 “What kind of opportunity? To drag others down?” Quinn asked.

 “Stay out of this Geekendorffer!” Sandi said.

 “It depends on one's point of view,” Stacy said quietly.

 “I see. However, you failed, like, to stop Mr. O'Neill putting the essay in the paper. I'm putting you on sabbattical from the Fashion Club!”

 “No, Sandi, no!” Stacy begged.

Sandi pushed her away, roughly.

 “Leave her alone!” Quinn called. She stepped next to Stacy and helped her out.

 “Stay out of this, Geekendorffer!” Sandi said glaring in Quinn's eyes.

 “No!”

 Sandi stepped forwards, and pushed Quinn away. Quinn pushed back. It was then that Sandi pulled a punch, and sent Quinn spawling.

 'Uh oh!' Tori thought, as Quinn stood up again. She got ready to pull Sandi back if need be.

Quinn then rushed at Sandi. “How dare you!” She said, as she slapped Sandi across the face, using less force than was used against her.

 Sandi then lost it. She lunged at Quinn.. The two tusselled, stratching (Sandi more than Quinn, wanting to marr those looks) and pulling hair (moreso Quinn pulling.Sandi's rather than the other way around, due to the extreme shortness of Quinn's hair).

 This didn't last long before Tori pulled Sandi away from Quinn, and Kristen pulled Quinn away from Sandi.

 “Well, well, what is this about?” Somehow Mr. Anthony DeMartino, head history teacher, had been passing by.

 “Sandi attacked Quinn!” Cindy said.

 “Not true!” Sandi said, struggling against Tori's hold.

 “So, true!” Quinn said, relaxing. “She attacked me! I was defending myself!”

 “That's not quite true,” Cindy said.

 “Cindy?” Quinn asked.

 “You didn't need to slap her back,” Cindy said, quietly.

 “I guess so,” Quinn said, equally as quietly. She turned to DeMartino. “Sandi has it in for me!” she said.

 “And also for Stacy, due to her essay,” Kristen added.

 Stacy nodded.

 DeMartino glared at Sandi using his right eye. “Yes! I have observed Sandi disliking Quinn! I also remember the debate at the Coffee House.”

 Kristen spoke up again, telling Mr. DeMartino the sequence of events that lead to the fight.

 “Thank you, Ms. Leung-Bell. That was quite illuminating.”

 “What now?” Quinn asked quietly.

 “Ms. Li has to know about this!”

  Less than fifteen minutes later, Kristen, Quinn, Sandi and Tori were in the principal's office, having been accompanied there by Mr. DeMartino, who had explained the situation to the Principal.

 Ms. Angela Li was very annoyed. How dare these students put the reputation of the school at risk. Not to mention their safety and those of others! She knew the cause of the problem though. She glared at Sandi. “Now, Ms. Griffin! Why did you attack Ms. Morgendorffer?”

 “She started it!” Sandi said in a surly tone.

 “Not true!” Quinn interjected.

 “Wait a moment, Ms. Morgendorffer!” the Principal said. She turned back to Sandi.

 “Wrong, Ms. Griffin! The evidence clearly points to you initiating the hostilities.” She picked up a remote control. She turned attention to a tv screen to the side of the office. Security camera footage of the incident in question was then shown. “First, you push, Ms. Morgendorffer away from Ms. Rowe, with whom she was conversing. She pushes back in response. Then you punch her to the ground!” She then paused the tape. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

 Sandi remained silent.

 “I have no choice, but to give you detention.”

 “Detention! No!” Sandi objected.

 “You have no choice in the matter!” the Principal said.

 Sandi looked down.

 “For the next fortnight you will report to Mr. DeMartino for an hour after school.”

 “Why me, Angela?” the teacher in question asked.

 “Because you were there. Mr. Ewing wasn't. His tardiness will be investigated!”

 Defeated for the moment, DeMartino lowered his head, similarly to the student he was to detain. “Yes, Angela!”

 The Principal then turned to Quinn. “Ms. Morgendorffer, this time, I'm, letting you off with a warning.”

 “Yes, Ms. Li, but I was only defending myself.”

 “That much was clear, but you still retaliated.”

 “I understand,” Quinn said.

 “Now, you may all go to class. Anthony, accompany, Ms. Griffin there!”

 DeMartino sighed. “Yes, Angela.”

  Later that night, as she prepared for bed, Stacy thought about the events of the day. 'Sandi is getting worse and worse!'

 Was being a member of the Fashion Club worth it? Worth being subjected to put downs day afte day? She stared at herself in the mirror. No! It wasn't worth it! It wasn't worth it for the popularity! 'Look at Quinn! She's popular despite being a geek! I don't need to be in the Fashion Club to be popular!'

 “Sandi! You are not going to control me anymore!” she said.

 It was then that she decided she would make the leap. She was going to leave the Fashion Club.

   Thursday, March 16, 2006

Stacy arrived at School with trepidation. She hoped that Sandi wouldn't overreact to her leaving the Fashion Club...

  Sandi saw Stacy approaching. “Sta-cy! Explain your tardiness!”

 “I'm not late!”

 “Yes, you are!” Sandi said.

 “School hasn't started yet!” Stacy retorted. She paused.

 “That's not the point!” Sandi said, before Stacy could say more.

 “Yes.” Stacy breathed heavily. “Sandi! I'm leaving the Fashion Club!”

 “What?” Sandi asked in disbelief. 'Impossible!'

 “I said, I'm leaving the Fashion Club.”

 “Sta-cy!”

 “No! You will not make me change my mind!”

 “Do you want to be unpopular?”

 “It's not about popularity. It's about choice! I choose to leave the Fashion Club!”

 “No!”

 “Yes!” Stacy ran away.

 'I'm sure she'll come to her senses,' Sandi thought.

  At lunch Stacy was sitting alone. She had already gone to the office and officially quit the Fashion Club. She also had the application form for the Anime Club in her locker.

Suddenly she heard a dreaded familiar voice. “So, you have quit the club,” Sandi's voice was dangerously low.

 'There's not much she can do, there are teachers here!' Stacy thought, trying to reassure herself. “Yes!” she said.

 “Sta-cy, where can I find such a good secretary? We need you!” Sandi said, in a condescending tone.

 “Where can you find a good secretary!” Stacy projected. “I'm not rejoining the club, Sandi! No matter what you say.”

 “No, you need to be in the club! Who were you in Middle School? A loser!”

 Bad memories came flooding back. But Stacy stood her ground. She was starting to hyperventilate, but that only strengthened her resolve to be free of Sandi's influence on her life. “Yes! I was, Sandi!”

  A couple of tables over, Quinn overheard what Sandi was saying to Stacy. She turned to Cindy and Kristen and said. “She's at it again! She's such a bully!”

 “Um, remember what happened yesterday?” Kristen asked.

 “I remember,” Quinn said. 'I don't want to get in trouble with Ms. Li again,' she thought.

 “She still needs help,” Cindy said.

  Sandi was trying to (and was having success at) intimidating Stacy with her (slightly) superior height, when the three friends came over. Knowing that Sandi wouldn't react well to Quinn doing it, Cindy took point. “Sandi! Leave Stacy alone.”

 “What, like, is it to you?” Sandi asked.

 “It is obvious that she doesn't want you here,” Cindy said.

 “She wants me to rejoin the Fashion Club!”

 “I see,” Kristen said.

 “Stay out of this!” Sandi said.

 “No!” Cindy said.

 “We can see that you are bullying Stacy!” Kristen said.

 “She clearly doesn't want to be back in the Fashion Club,” Cindy said.

  Sandi seethed. How dare the Geekendorffer's friends interfere! However, something Kristen said struck a nerve. Was she really a bully? She looked at Stacy. She was hyperventilating, and crying. 'Nothing different there,' she thought. But there was something else. There was a strength in her eyes that hadn't been there before. Also hurt. There was hurt. “Fine!” she finally said. “Be unpopular!” She then turned and stormed out of the cafeteria.

  Little did Sandi know that Tori had seen the whole thing. She also made a decision. She was also going to leave the Fashion Club. She had had enough of Sandi's attitude! 'After school, I will go to the office and announce my resignation from the club,' she decided.

   Friday, March 17, 2006

Stacy awoke. She sat up. She felt, happy. She was puzzled. Usually she felt unease when she woke up. Then she remembered. She was out of the Fashion Club! Away from Sandi's tyranny. She sat up and smiled. She grabbed her diary and re-read the entry she had written the previous night. After re-reading her diary. She went to get ready for the day.

 Stacy dressed as normal, then looked in the mirror. “No!” She said. She still looked like the downtrodden member of the Fashion Club, that she had been for the past half year, as well as the lonely Middle School student. 'But how to change.'

First, she looked at her hair. Still in the childish braided twintails. No, that had to change. So, she took her hair out again.

 She then had another problem, usually her hair was unruly. A mess of curls. There was no time before school to straighten it. She then thought of a different hairstyle.

 Five minutes later, she looked in the mirror again. She had put her hair up into two buns halfway above and slightly behind her ears. 'That works!' she thought in slight excitement. She then looked at her clothes.

She realized straight away that she needed to change. They, like the hair, made her look like the Fashion Club member and middle school loser. 'No!' She dashed back into her closet.

  Five minutes later, most of Stacy's clothes were all over the floor, but she had changed. She had changed into a pair of long black jeans and black crop top that revealed much more of her midriff than the blue shirt did.

She looked in the mirror again.

“It's perfect!” She said. She liked what she saw. She gathered the things she needed for school and put them in her backpack. “Another thing! I need a new backpack! It doesn't go with this style!” She stopped short. 'You can take the girl out of the Fashion Club, but can't take the Fashion Club out of the girl?' she wondered. After a few moments she decided to get a new backpack after school anyway.

Elizabeth Rowe noticed as her daughter grabbed breakfast, that something was different about her, and not just her completely different style. She seemed more, confident.

“Anastacia? Is something happening at school?”

 “Nothing! Other than getting an A for that essay, that is,”

 “I already knew that,” Elizabeth said. “There's something else.”

 Anastacia lowered her head, seeming more like her old self. “I've quit the Fashion Club!”

 “Anastacia! That's good news. I've always thought that Sandi wasn't a good influence. Have you any other friends?” She wasn't going to let her go until she had an answer.

Stacy pondered her mother's question. She wasn't sure if she did have friends. Then she remembered Kristen, Cindy and Quinn's help earlier in the week. “Yeah,” she finally said. “I have a few.”

 “Good, Anastacia,” her mother said.

 As soon as she finished breakfast, Stacy left the house and began walking to School.

While Stacy was on her way to school, Tori met Sandi outside the school.

“Sandi, I have come to a decision,” she said.

 “What decision?” Sandi asked.

 “I also have left the Fashion Club!”

 “What?” Sandi asked harshly.

 “I haven't made this decision lightly, but because of your behaviour.”

 “My behaviour? Have you lost your senses?” Sandi asked in disbelief.

 Tori almost lost it. “No, Sandi, I haven't! But I could ask the same of you. The way you treated Stacy this week! It's beyond the pale! I don't want to become like you, Sandi. That is why I quit the Fashion Club.”

 Sandi was left speechless as Tori walked away.

  Shortly after arriving at school and handing in the filled out application form for the Anime Club, Stacy walked up to Cindy, Kristen and Quinn who were sitting near the library, talking.

 “Hi-i,” she said.

 Cindy noticed that someone there. “Hi, um, Stacy?”

 Kristen and Quinn also noticed her, although they didn't recognise her at first.

 “Stacy?” Quinn asked.

 “I have quit the Fashion Club,” she said.

 “That's great!” Quinn said.

 “There's another thing,” Stacy paused, then said. “Could I hang out with you guys? As a friend?”

 All three could see that Stacy was sincere. “Yes,” Kristen said.

 “Of course!” Quinn said.

 “Certainly,” Cindy said.

 Stacy was pleased. She hugged all three of them at once. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Um, Stacy, I need to breath!” Kristen said.

 Stacy let go. “Sorry,” she said. She was very excited. She had made new friends! “I'm on top of the world!” she said.

[fardell24b]

Daria 2097 - Part 1.2

Part 1.2

1111 Glen Oaks Lane, 6:00 PM

The Morgendorffers were having dinner. It was quiet. The way all four family members liked it. However, to say that there was no communication going on would be false. There was a lot of information passing to and fro between the family members.

 Quinn: Sends transcript of Pep Squad recruitment meeting, and her refusal. Additionally her acceptance of Sandi's invitation into the Fashion Club.

 Helen (Barksdale-Morgendorffer): As along as you can join the pep squad later, if you want. You never know how much we can handle until we try.

 Jake: Daria, how was your first day?

 Daria: My history teacher hates me because I know all the answers, but there are some interesting idiots in my class.

 Jake: That's Great!

 Helen: Physically glares at Jake.

 Jake: Um...

 Helen: Daria, your father's trying to tell you not to judge people until you know them. You're in a brand-new school in a brand-new town. You don't want it to be Highland all over again.

 Daria: Not much chance of that happening... unless there's toxic material in the drinking water, here too.

 Helen: I'm talking about you making a friend or two. Don't be so critical. Give people the benefit of the doubt.

 Daria: It all boils down to trust.

 House AI ('Glenny'): Unspecific request for communication with a family member incoming.

 Quinn: Expresses hope that it's not Lawndale High's Booster Society again.

 Helen: I'll take it, Glenny.

  Helen stood up and took a handset unit from the kitchen base station. Quickly she determined that the person on the other end wanted verbal contact. She brought it up to her ear. “Hello?” A pause. “Uh, yes, she's my daughter.” Another pause. “I see. Listen, will this require any parent-teacher conferences or anything, and if so, is this the sort of thing my assistant or an AI can handle?” Another pause. “Okay, great. Bye!” The 'call' ended. She sat down and turned to her daughters.

  Helen: You took a psychological test at school today?

 Quinn: Looks annoyed at Daria.

Quinn: The way you answered may not have been what she was looking for.

 Helen: Daria, they want you to take a special class for a few weeks, then they'll test you again.

 Quinn: Quiet sigh.

 Helen: It seems she has low self-esteem.

 Jake: spits out some pasta. What? That really stinks, Daria!

 Helen: Easy, Jake, Focus! Looks at Daria. We tell you over and over again that you're wonderful and you just... don't... get it!

Helen: Hit's table with Fist

Helen: What's wrong with you.

 Daria: It's a mistake. I don't have low self-esteem! (annoyed emoticons!)

 Jake: I'll say.

 Daria: I have low esteem for everyone else.

Tuesday, September 17, 2097

There were many students in Daria's self-esteem class. All of them were doing anything other than listening to the teacher droning on.

 One thing hadn't changed in the course of the 21st century. The presence of ineffective teaching methods in the curriculum. The self-esteem class was one of many examples.

 The teacher was droning on, not understanding the words “Esteem... a teen. They don't really rhyme, do they? The sounds don't quite mesh. And that, in fact, is often the case when it comes to a teen and esteem. The two just don't seem to go together. But we are here to begin realizing your actuality... “

Daria was sure that those last three words didn't belong in that order. The last one she was sure wasn't used at all. She raised her hand. “Excuse me. I have a question.”

 “Sorry, question and answer time is later,” Mr. Timothy O'Niell said.

 “I want to know what "realizing your actuality" means.”

 “It means... look, just let me get through this part, okay? Then there'll be a video!”

 The teacher went back to his gibberish. Daria than heard someone speak behind her. “He doesn't know what it means. He's got the speech memorized. Just enjoy the nice man's soothing voice.”

 Daria turned to the girl. She wore a black shirt with a red coat, and three earrings in each ear. Her hair was short and spiky. “How am I supposed to follow him if I don't know what he's talking about?”

 “I can fill you in later. I've taken this course six times.”

  Later, Daria and Jane were walking through Lawndale to Jane's house. “So, then, after the role-playing, next class they put the girls and the guys in separate rooms and a female counselor talks to us about body image,” Jane said.

 “What do they talk to the boys about?” Daria asked.

 “A classroom full of guys and a male teacher?”

 Both girls stopped walking. “Nocturnal emissions.”

 They resumed walking. “I don't get it, Jane. You've got the entire course memorized. How come you can't pass the test to get out?”

 “I could pass the test, but I like having low self-esteem. It makes me feel special.”

  Soon they were at Jane's house. Jane glanced at her tablet as they walked on the Lawn. “Unlocked! Trent! I've told you to check that the locks have engaged!”

 “Trent?”

 “My brother. He runs a local music site, and a member of a band. I use that last word loosely, you understand.”

 “They play terrible music?” Daria asked as they entered the house.

 “That's an understatement,” Jane said.

 “Hi, Lane house,” Daria said.

 “Oh, there's no AI. My parents have never bothered putting one in. Or was it, grandparents. All the computers come from the fifties or earlier.”

 “Jane, that's crazy.”

 “That's the hardware. The security software is up to date,” Jane said.

 Daria breathed a sigh of relief.

  “And my room...” Jane said opening the door to her room.

 “Is that an easal?” Daria asked.

 “Yes, I prefer the traditional art methods, although I do use digital.” Then an alarm sounded, and Jane looked at her tablet. “Uh, oh!”

 “What?”

 Jane showed Daria the image on the tablet. “Foreclosure drones!”

 “Foreclosure drones? What have I gotten myself into?”

 “My parents must have let the autopayments lapse.”

 “How can I help?” Daria asked.

 “You want to help?” Jane asked.

 “Yes.”

  Down in the Lane's basement, Jane opened an old closet. “Here, it is our server. Apparently from the fourties, though the OS is later than that,” she said.

 “I don't think you'll be able to get in.”

 “Oh really?” Jane placed her palm on the reading surface. “Authenticate!”

 “Jane Lane Authenticated.”

 “Now where have you stored the account details,” Jane said, once her account was signed in.

 “OK, then.”

  Five minutes later, Jane still hadn't found the account details. “Come on! Those foreclosure drones are getting antsy!”

 “Maybe it's hidden in a virtual drive or something?” Daria pondered.

 “Of course!” Jane said. “Activate all virtual environments!”

 “Is there enough RAM for that?”

 “I hope so!”

  There was enough RAM in the server, and Jane was able to find the details in a file. “Done!” She picked up the tablet, which was showing the foreclosure drones leaving. “And they won't be back!”

  After that crisis aversion, Daria went home.