Quinn Bobs her Hair

A Small Comfort

"Jeez, now she's a total egghead!"

The burst of laughter followed Daria down the hall. Some of the people nearby glanced at her, some smirking, but most shared a dark look as they ever so slightly tightened ranks around the smaller teen.

"Asshole," muttered someone in the back, turning to flip off whomever it was that was trying to score a cheap laugh at Daria's expense.

Around the corner, on the other side of the floor, Quinn scowled as she heard. She spun on her heels, stalking back to where she had heard the laughter, Stacy hurrying to catch up.

Quinn stepped up to Skylar Feldman, standing on her toes to get as close as possible to look him square in the eye. Even from where Stacy stood, the rage in Quinn's voice was palpable.

"Leave my sister alone, you JERK!"

Skylar, taken aback for a moment, soon regained his composure. Sneering at the fuming redhead, he slouched against the wall, not noticing his posse slinking ever so slightly away. "Geez, Quinn, who lit the fuse-"

He paused, sensing a malevolent presence close by.

"Don't finish that sentence, Feldman," came a slow, calculated growl from his right side.

Mack MacKenzie stood rigidly, face unreadable, hands clenched at his sides.

"Daria is my friend, and she is one of the few people around this school that is worth getting in trouble for pounding your stupid ass into the ground." Behind Mack, the three Js stood, their displeasure clear about someone daring to insult Quinn. Jamie, though, also cast a glance in the direction that Daria had gone.

Skylar raised his hands in a mollifying motion. "Hey, just kidding, okay?" Stepping away, he looked around. His little entourage had dispersed, not wanting to get locked in the doghouse with him. He turned sheepishly back to the angry redhead. "Sorry, Quinn," he muttered lamely.

Watching him beat a hasty retreat, Quinn sighed. "Thanks, Mack. Daria's good at not letting stuff like that get under her skin but I'm sure she's pretty damn tired of it. I don't think she really cares about what idiots like Skylar think. She's just kind of thinking this whole thing through. You know how she is."

Mack smiled. Not only did Quinn no longer deny that Daria was her sister, she did what she could to cover her back. Last year, he didn't much like the self-centered, shallow girl that she had been. Things had changed, and for the better. "Sure, I guess. You better get to class before the bell." He waved as Quinn hurried down the hallway.

Daria stowed the two backpacks in the trunk of her car. The weather was getting too cold to walk to school with no hair, and she still hadn't gotten around to finding a cap that wasn't as dorky as the one she had. Why do I give a shit about the way that stupid cap looks? Trent doesn't care.

Daria raised an eyebrow as the battered blue Plymouth pulled up alongside. "Hey. Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Late lunch. Had to fill in since the new kid at the store never showed up. You girls up for Pizza King? I'll buy and drive."

Jane dove for the back seat, slamming the door behind her. Daria smirked, getting into the front passenger seat without complaint. She exchanged a half-smile with Trent.

"Axl came into the music store around noon. Wants you to stop by tomorrow after school, got somebody that wants to meet you." He glanced over, noticing Daria sinking slightly into the seat.

"Not a reporter, I hope," grumbled Daria. She ran a hand over her head, the hair just under a half inch long. "This is old news."

Trent just smiled and reached over to take her hand. Wordlessly she twined her fingers with his, smiling softly. There had definitely been a silver lining, after all.

They pulled into the restaurant parking lot. Shutting the engine down, he turned to her and spoke quietly. "He really wants you to come. It's kind of important to him."

After the pizza, Trent dropped the girls off back at Daria's car in the school parking lot. He waved as he drove back to the music store; he had a long evening with quite a few students ahead.

"Big Bro's getting old," Jane smirked. "Growing up a little. About time, too."

"I'm not complaining," murmured Daria. She unlocked the doors of her car. Jane watched the gages as the engine started, making sure that there was enough gas for them to get to that big art store in Oakdale. She pulled out a twenty and handed it to Daria.

"You realize that he hasn't bummed gas money from me for at least two months?"

"He sold out, Jane, and somebody was buying," Daria said quietly, handing back Jane's money. "You bought gas last time. Well, maybe Trent just decided to sublet a little time to tide things over until he can make his dream work."

They pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the interstate. Daria merged smoothly into the heavier afternoon traffic and settled into an easy pace, keeping to the right lane. They only had a few exits to go.

Jane held her tongue for a commendably long time. Finally, she gave up.

"So how are you two doing?"

Daria didn't answer immediately. She kept her eyes on the cars ahead. "Why ask me? You live with the guy, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I only get his side of things. He thinks everything is just dandy."

"What makes you think it's not?"

"Jeez, Daria, who can tell with you?" Jane sighed. "I mean, I never see you guys making out or anything, even at our house. And you don't hug or kiss much when we're out and about."

"I'm not going to hang onto him in public. And we're doing fine. I save the affection for when we have some privacy."

Jane smirked. "There is that. Thanks for the reminder, I may need some new earplugs." She leaned on the door, looking out the window.

Daria looked over. "It's not just a physical thing. I'm just not that emotionally expressive. You know that." She flicked her signal on, and took the exit off the interstate.

"Hi," came the quiet voice.

Daria turned to see a young girl of about twelve sitting sideways behind the case of body jewelry. She was small, and very pale, with dark circles under her dark eyes. Her hair framed her face, a familiar, rich shade of auburn. Her right arm rested on the glass top, where she had been writing in a small notebook.

"You're Daria." She smiled slowly, the expression pushing away a veil of sadness that wasn't at first noticeable.

She let go of Trent's hand and crossed over to where the girl sat. As she stepped up to the case, the wheelchair that she was sitting in became visible. "You're Axl's niece, right?"

"Yes, my name is Carys."

"Welsh for Love."

The young girl grinned. "Uncle Axl said that you were the smartest person he's ever met."

Daria blushed. "I just like names. I like to write, and so I spend a lot of time looking up the meanings of names."

"And your name is Persian. There's a Roman Catholic Saint named Daria." The girl smiled warmly at that. "I like to write too, but I have to tell you that I looked up the meaning of your name. It suits you."

Daria said nothing, embarrassed by the praise.

"Thank you for doing what you did. This," Carys said quietly, touching her hair carefully, "is yours. I lost mine when they started in on the chemotherapy. I'm not as strong as you are, and your gift lets me pretend that I'm pretty and normal. Like you. It lets me look in a mirror and not cry, and I can convince myself that I'm not scared."

Neither Daria or Trent said anything as he walked her back to her car. She did, however, reach out and take his hand even though they were out in public.

Arriving at her car, she turned to him and hugged him tight.