July 23, 2010

Summary: Quinn is forced to face her past self as she tries to help Daria.

Disclaimer: I do not own Daria or anything affiliated, just the idea.

If Nothing Else

Chapter 1: Happy Graduation

Suctioned off her face, the thick, black framed glasses toppled and rattled from the front windshield to the dashboard. Her head ricochets off the airbag, bouncing off the head rest, her forehead dodging right before reverberating into the left side of the car. Her consciousness to the world around her shutters off like a camera. The piercing cry of a gentleman her swan song, as Daria blacks out.

-Daria-

"My God, I can't believe Mary would wear her hair up, most definitely showing her plump-like face," Sandi Griffin, drowned on. Standing several people ahead of Quinn, gave the former Fashion Club President some satisfaction, despite having to turn to observe any facial reaction expressed by Quinn.

"Well, it is rather hot out, Sandi," Quinn half heartedly defended. Meekly, the red head tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before quickly searching the crowd. Well, graduation hasn't quite started. I'm sure they're somewhere. Though, Daria was a person almost impossible to miss in a crowd.

"Yeah," Tiffany added, filing her nails. Sandi and Quinn glanced at Tiffany before exchanging friendly glares, unsure who Tiffany supported.

Stacy approached, red faced from running and weaving in between pairs of students waiting to walk. "Guys, guys, Quinn – tell me again, which foot do we start off again with? The left or right?" Her voice growing to sheer panic and horror that their principal, Ms. Li, would spot her out of the hundred or so students graduating that day to scold her and that she, Stacy Rowe, former Fashion Club Secretary, would embarrass the debunked club. Quinn rolled her eyes. My God, when is this going to be over? God, she mentally groaned, when will it start so it can be over?

-Daria-

"Let's go, Jake," Helen Morgendorffer commanded of her husband. Walking as if entering a courtroom, she hopped onto the side walk that led to the football field. A synonymous ring from Helen's purse slowed her. Approaching the corner of the building in which the field lay waiting with their youngest daughter's gradation, Helen halted.

Jake rolled his eyes, knowing very well Eric, Helen's boss, was calling to talk about some "big" case he needed her immediate assistance on. "Can't this wait, honey?" he pled. He was so proud of Quinn, not to say he wasn't before . . . but, he was more proud to see she had become more open in the last year, venturing to look past the self-centeredness and superficiality and see that there was more to do on a Saturday night, or any night, than max out her father's credit cards. He was damn near close to making a sign, but Daria said that waving a big old sign that shouted "Go Quinn!" may be an embarrassment. Daria also made other comments, however they were lost in transmission as Jake soon slipped into a tirade about how his father hadn't attended his graduation from military school.

Almost falling because of a crack in the sidewalk, something unacceptable with the high school tax, infuriated Jake."How can a school that tries to bleed you dry can't have enough money to pave new sidewalks? Damn money hungry school! Damn Dad!" Whereabouts Helen would interrupt, it was the routine often demonstrated at the Morgendorffer home in which Jake found himself stopping because of the sheer fact the routine was not . . . en route? "Helen?"

Helen had been oblivious to the entire episode, "uh-huh-ing" like a mindless zombie. "No, no, I – we'll, my husband and I will be right over. Uh-huh, Cedars of Lawndale, yes, yes."

Helen hung up, her peach skinned face draining of color into her quivering hands. Jake swallowed hard, acutely sensitive to any shift in mood, he waited. "Daria was in a horrible car accident on Thompson Ave," Helen spoke, her voice hollow. The gears in Helen's mind turned at a rate uncommon to when she is working a big case. Quinn's graduation started already. I can't drag her out. It's her big day and the doctors aren't going to know what to do yet, so why worry her? We need to get to the medical center, though. Jane! Turning to her already panicked husband, looking like a kicked puppy, she gathered herself. "Let's go, we'll call Jane, have her get Quinn."

"Why? We're here already," he questioned.

"This is still her day, Jake," Helen reminded him, making haste back to the car.

-Daria-

Quinn craned her neck, scanning the crowd. "Of course, leave it up to my parents and Daria to be late to my graduation. Geez!" She rolled her eyes disgusted.

"What Quinn?" Stacy asked, swaying to see Quinn through the other students as she had returned to her post.

"Nothing . . . My parents are late. For this, they will need to expand my car budget," she smirked, crossing her arms. Having invested her senior year in doing better in school delegated her advantages of better hustling her parents fiscally.

"Oh, you know what's cute, a Chevy sports car," Stacy squealed, attaining some glares.

"I think a convertible would be better," Tiffany drawled, "A red one."

"Yeah, but then you have to think about your hair," Quinn posed.

"Yes, so a Lexus is the only way to go," Sandi interjected.

-Daria-

Jane groped for the phone, her mind booting up to start the day. Yawning as she greeted the caller, her eyes popped as Helen relayed instructions. Jane Lane slammed the phone down with unusual force, hitting the floor with a thud as her feet failed to free themselves from her blanket. Running to Trent's room, Jane pounded on his bedroom door with fury, the door bending from the force of each wrap. Jane called through the door, "Damn it Trent, we need to go to the high school, get the car, your clothes on, and wake up! Daria is in the hospital!"

She beelined it to her room, throwing on some clothes and running sneakers. Having seen no sign of movement, and knowing the car keys' location was known only to Trent as he was the last to use the car, Jane raced out of her house. Need to get my own car.

Trent was dressed as he rubbed his eyes, jumping at the sound of the front door slamming. Trent shuffled to his little sister's room to find it empty, moving down stairs to the living room, he called, "Janie?"

-Daria-

A single seagull cawed as it flew over head. The white yard lines faded, the grass left untreated that it tickled the bare ankles of those wearing sandals. Metallic tinged voices waved through the quiet field as listeners tried their best to give undivided attention to the monotone speaker. The stands were patterned in suits, and sweater vests, power suits, long dresses to more casual wear. Parents, grandparents, and siblings watched as the Lawndale High Class of 2003 awaited the sweet words of freedom.

"I can't believe that we are forced to listen to this," Sandi complained, crossing her arms. Her hair was done in bologna curls, long flowing ringlets. Large gold hoop earring tucked in her locks, shining through as the sun's rays graced them just right.

"These gowns don't even breath, I'm sweating underneath here," Stacy added. Traditional pigtails, braided perfectly. She adjusted her cap, a white bandage wrapped like a thin wrist band on her left wrist. Looking like a suicide gone awry, truth be told, the injury was an accident incurred from auto shop class. Something Stacy stumbled upon when she was placed into the elective class accidently.

"Stacy, ewww," Tiffany blanched, pausing mid-application of mascara to her eye. Despite her often 'out of it' disposition, and slow and somewhat incomprehensible speech, she had found the theatre group. Approached by the theatre arts teacher, herself, to help with make-up, Tiffany soon found herself joining the drama club.

"Yeah, yeah," Quinn agreed, absently. Scrolling through the throngs of parents, Quinn searched for her sister, Daria, and her parents, Helen and Jake Morgendorffer. Twisting, swaying, and bobbing the red head looked for her family in the crowd.

"Sorry, Quinn," Stacy apologized.

"Huh?" Quinn muttered, her hair swaying and splashing into her face. Delicately pulling her hair from her face she looked at her friend who was sitting two rows up. The former Fashion Club members were close enough in proximity, but too far to have any real conversation.

"Is everything all right, Quinn?" A young man of blonde hair, Jamie White asked.

"You need something?" Another young man of dark, almost black hair, Joey, interjected, using the back rest of Quinn's chair to lean forward on.

"I'll get it for you," offered Jeffy, an enthusiastic young man, in which all three sat directly behind the Lawndale Little Helper Club member.

After the Fashion Club disbanded, Quinn felt alienated. Some students harboring ill feelings for her after being treated badly, others uncaring to her ambiguous status. Sandy had taken no time bonding with another clique, having been lured in by the Marketing Club to help them. Sandi's controlling and, for lack of better word, intimidating manner helped raise fundraising sales, so much so that she was promoted to president. It was under Daria's wise guidance that Quinn looked inside herself to find another social club to belong. Having been inspired by David Sorenson and his lasting influence on her, Quinn decided to help others, specifically other teens and children. Of course, not babies. As cute as the tikes were, they were also messy and loud.

"It's nothing," Quinn dismissed. I must've just missed them. I'm sure they're somewhere in the crowd.

"Yes, I'm sure they wouldn't miss your graduation, Quinn," Sandi consoled, displaying a triumphant grin as she sat forward away from anyone's sight.

-Daria-

As the families tumbled upon their children like a tidal wave, Quinn soon found herself floundering in a sea of white flashes, whooping, cheering, and whirring of friends taking their last group pictures. Quinn felt a tug as Stacy dragged her to take a picture with her. Showing her best fake friendly smile, Quinn posed, splitting as soon as Stacy's parents said the picture came out beautiful. Soon the families began to siphon out, pulling away the curtain on Quinn's deepest fear. "They never came," she whispered as tears drizzled down her face.

Jane, Daria's best friend, darted around celebratory families, their sons and daughters flaunting their diplomas. An ogre-like jock, brutish and large, brushed past the artist roughly. "Hey, watch it!" she threatened, shaking her fist.

"Jane?" a soft, sophisticated voice called. Jodie Landon moved through the crowd, to the observer, it looked more as if the attendees parted a path just for her. She was dressed in capris and a light pink tailored shirt, the sleeves cuffed near her elbows, a white tank underneath. Mack Mackenzie, Jodie's steady boyfriend, sauntered behind his girlfriend, waving to the Boston Fine Arts College (BFAC) student. He wore a tailored shirt and tan slacks, an outfit; Jane was certain Jodie had chosen.

"What are you doing here?" Mack asked, chuckling. Jane was donning long shorts stained in paint, and a red tank covered by a black one. She looked like she went through a paint spinner, speckled paint sprites up and down her arms.

"Uh, um, looking for someone," Jane answered, shifting from one foot to another, getting on her tippy toes for a better view. As she moved to leave, a slim, but toned man blocked her.

"Hey Jane, you came to watch me graduate, too?" Kevin Thompson, star quarterback, and nineteen years old, having been held back a year, was still as energetic as Jane remembered.

"Not exactly." Jane went to slide past him, rather surprised Kevin had dressed in pastel pink, striped dress shirt and black slacks, a tie accenting the outfit and rather rounding out his attire.

Just as Jane lifted her foot to move, she cringed as a high pitched voice called her. "Wow, Jane. It's like a reunion or something. Where's Daria? Are you guys not, like, friends anymore?" Wrapping her finger around her mid-length, golden hair, she titled her head in practiced innocence. Brittany bounced on her feet, her small backpack's contents rattling. Denim skirt and a pink polo with her white kswiss sneakers was, Jane guessed, considered dressed up for Brittany.

"Hey, where is Daria?" Mack inquired.

"I haven't seen her anywhere? Is she still at Raft?" Jodie chimed in.

"Where is she, Jane?" Kevin pushed.

Her fist shaking, having been delayed enough, Jane snapped. "QUINN!" The painter repeatedly called the younger Morgendoffer girl until Quinn appeared, squeezing in between Mack and Kevin.

Seeing Quinn approach, clearly having been crying, Jane's stomach dropped. "Oh my God, you know?" Jane brought her hand to her lips, crouching slightly to even herself with Quinn. Jodie shifted uncomfortably, squeezing Mack's hand. Mack turned to his girlfriend. Jodie was perceptive, he was use to her nonverbal signals, and right now, she was sending one. Something wasn't right.

"Know what?" Quinn hiccupped, her eyes red and rimmed in black eyeliner and mascara.

"Daria," Jane replied, gesticulating with her arms.

"Daria, what?" Quinn demanded; an edge to her voice.

Calmly Jane tried to break the news, though knowing or believing she was the more level-headed of the two, she could only prepare for the worst. I had to answer the phone, didn't I? Taking one last deep breath, she declared, "Daria was in a horrible car accident."

~ End Chapter 1