Quinn sat red eyed on a rock, with the three J's in a well intentioned, yet charecteristicly bumbling, attendance.
"I'm sure they'll be alright, Quinn," said Jeffie.
"Someone's sure to find them soon," said Jaimie.
"Even if worst comes to worst, you'll at least be president of the Fashion Club," said Joey.
"Waaaaaahhhh!!!" said Quinn, running off to one of her more competent suitors for comfort.
"Joey, you dweeb!" said Jeffie,
"I was just trying to cheer her up," he answered.
"Yeah, way to brighten her day, dork-breath," said Jaimie.
"Like you did any better!" he replied.
Tiffany gave them a dirty look and went over to sit by Stacy. "Boys can be so mean," she said.
Stacy nodded and sniffled.
"All they can think about is themselves."
Stacy mouthed, "Yeah."
Tiffany looked off in the distance. "Stacy?"
"Mm-hmm?"
"We need to, like, talk, or something."
Stacy looked at her.
"Sandi... did she, like, ever talk to you about Quinn?"
"Umm, yeah, lots of times. Like, I'm not really sure she likes her much."
Tiffany nodded. "She didn't want Quinn to replace her as president."
Stacy gaped and stared at Tiffany in disbelief. "I... I can't believe you're saying this."
"But, it's true. Sandi said that, in case something happened to her, she didn't want Quinn taking over."
"How can you even talk about this now?" she hissed, standing up.
"It's what she wanted."
"Stop talking about her in the... the... like she was de... Ohhhhh!"
"Stacy, God, calm down."
"How can you be so selfish?"
"Selfish?"
"I'll never support you as president of the Fashion Club over Quinn! Never!"
"Ewwww! I don't want to be president!"
"Wha...?"
"She meant, like, you."
Stacy stood for a moment in stunned silence, then the light of rememberance lit her face. Her hands clenched in angry incredulity as she shouted, "Dammit, Tiffany, Sandi was drunk when she said that!"
Silence descended on the hillside as every head turned to the pair, including Morris and Barch.
"Uh... oh..." said Tiffany.
After Daria had laid the contents of her backpack out to dry, she draped it over a log. Standing and stretching (and subsequently wincing in pain), she looked over at Sandi, who was talking baby talk to the kitten. Sandi had named the kitten "Fuzz," which Daria had considered a rather uninspiring name, but in the interest of peace she bided her tongue.
Shaking her head, she went over to the edge of the bluff and stared into the valley, leaning against an oak tree that grew on the edge. There she let herself get lost in her thoughts.
"Like, what's that?" asked Sandi, a few minutes later.
"What?" said Daria, turning. The bushes across the road moved.
"We've been found!" said Sandi, getting to her feet. "Hello!"
Daria's heart went into her throat as her mind went to serial killing hillbillies. What she saw was worse.
A brown muzzle appeared through the bushes, followed by a brown face with two small ears. It stared at Sandi and woofed.
"Oh, damn, it's just an old dog," she said, tossing a rock at it. "Shoo!"
Daria was amazed at how quickly and easily she climbed that tree. "Run, damnit, that's not a dog!"
The bear rose to its hind legs with a growl and began shambling toward Sandi as she shrieked in recognition.
"This way," Daria shouted from the tree branch, "Take my hand!"
Sandi ran to the tree and raised her arm. Daria reached down and her hand closed on something furry. Eighteen small claws dug in for dear life.
"Beeee!" said Fuzz.
Daria replied with a few choice words as she pulled the kitten up. The bear dropped to all fours and charged. Sandi tried to climb, but slipped back.
"Jump!" Daria shouted. Sandi leaped to one side, then went over the bluff, into a bramble patch below. The bear hit the tree with full force.
The tree shook, and Daria, with one hand holding Fuzz, lost her grip. The kitten leaped for the limb, but only one paw caught it.
Daria landed on the soft, bristly fur of the bear's back. Daria dug her fingers and knees in and the bear bellowed with rage. It stood up and something small and brown fell on it's nose. Eighteen little claws once again dug into tender flesh.
The bear convulsed and throwing Daria one way and Fuzz the other, took off for the woods in a run. Daria landed on the edge of the bluff, then rolled off. She briefly saw Sandi looking up at her before she saw the sky above. Then the bramble caught her.
As the stars subsided, she saw Sandi leaning over her with a look of concern. "Daria? Daria! Omigod, are you all right?"
"Been better," she admitted. She tried to sort out all the myriad pains that were begging for attention as Sandi helped her out of the briars. She was bleeding from briar cuts too.
"Oh, God, we're alive, we're alive! We survived a bear attack. I can't believe it!" said Sandi.
"Ahhhh!" said Daria. The middle finger of her right hand was bent at an unnatural angle.
"Oh, your hand!"
"I... my finger's broke. At least... at least it wasn't my arm."
"Or neck."
"Yeah. My God, Sandi, we are alive..."
"Daria, I... I think we're going to make it now. The worst is, like, past, don't you think?"
"Beeee!" said Fuzz, looking down from the edge of the bluff.
"You had to jinx it, didn't you," said Daria, unable for once to hold back a smile.
"Oh, you," Sandi grinned in return.
Jane sat in the waiting room, flipping through an old issue of Redbook, her foot bandaged and propped up on a chair in front of her. No way this could just be a greenstick, she thought. Quacks must have red the x-ray wrong. Had to be compound, a greenstick fracture wouldn't feel this bad.
Would it?
She desperately flipped through the magazine for something interesting to read. It was this or the Watchtower. It would take Trent hours to get here, and she was facing slow insanity.
She ignored the whoosh of the automatic doors opening. She heard people coming in, and ignored them too. Then she felt someone standing over her. She raised her eyes and jumped.
"Guilty consceince," said Mack. "Told you to stick with the group."
"Daria? Did you find her?"
"You're not going to get all mushy on me, are you Lane?" said Daria.
Jane gasped as she looked at the two bloodied, muddied girls being escorted by paramedics.
"Holy shit!" said Jane, "I knew it! You two did end up trying to murder each other!"
"Get a life, Lane," said Sandi. "I may be a vicous bitch, but I don't get physical."
"At least not since the second grade," she muttered in reply.
"Oh, pish, who remembers back that far."
"Actually," said Mack, "when we found them, they were leaning against a tree, petting a kitten, and plotting against Quinn."
"You're going to love what we came up with," said Daria.
"We may not have much in common, but like, we both have a taste for revenge," added Sandi.
"And a distaste for outdoor living."
"And Ms. Barch."
"Let's not forget her, no."
"Come on, you two," said one of the paramedics, "we've got to get you checked in."
"Alright, already," said Sandi. "Are you ever this anxious to get a tetnus shot?"
"Are you that anxious to get lockjaw," he shot back, as he led them toward admitting.
Daria turned one last time to Jane. "Oh, yeah, and don't let me forget to tell you about the bear. Tsk, once more, you without your camcorder."
Jane threw her head back. "Damnit!" she wailed.
First of all, I would like to thank any intrepid reader who made it this far, LOL.
In all seriousness though, I would like to thank Bob Marley for his excellent fanfic "You Don't Know Mack" (highly recommended), from which first came the idea of Mack as a Scout. Big ol' three fingered salute there, Ras Bob!
Although he was only mentioned in passing, Mr. Phelps is the creation of Kara Wild, from her Driven Wild continuum. Also, highly recommeded.
Shane is my own creation, based on a couple of friends of mine waaaaaaay back in high school.
This is a work of fan fiction based on the television show "Daria," done for love and not profit.
"Daria" is copyright and trademark of MTV/Viacom.
Anything not owned by anyone else is copyright of William G. Payne, Jr.