The Picture of Daria's Rear
by Galen Hardesty
Part One
It was a sunny summer day in Lawndale. Daria Morgendorffer pulled up in front of Casa Lane, got out of her car, and headed up the sidewalk to Jane's front door. She noted in passing that the welded sculpture in the front yard was seriously in need of corrosion control treatment. She doubted it would receive any. That was kind of sad.
Daria knocked on the door, then turned to admire her car gleaming in the Lawndale morning sunshine. It wasn't new, but it was low mileage, it ran well, and it was very cheap to operate. Nearly fifty mpg on the highway, if the tires were properly inflated. And it was a beautiful metallic green. Daria loved her car.
Daria turned back to the door as her keen hearing picked up soft footfalls approaching from inside. The knob rattled briefly, then turned, and the door creaked open, revealing Jane squinting in the sunlight. "Mrrf," she greeted Daria gaily.
"And a fine morning to you, too." Daria smirked. "Won't you come in? Thanks, I'd love to." She squeezed past Jane while the latter was trying to decide whether and how to reply to that.
"So, are you ready to go?" Daria asked, still smirking at the shambling zombie that was Jane in the morning.
"Go. Mmmh. Need coffee." Jane shot back wittily. She turned and shambled in the general direction of the kitchen.
Daria took a seat at the Lane kitchen table to enjoy the spectacle of Lawndale High's one-time track star barely able to walk. She knew the more Jane used her leg muscles, the more blood would reach her brain, and the closer she would come to full consciousness.
Jane opened a cabinet, pulled out a coffee can, and managed to claw the plastic lid off it. Shuffling toward the coffeemaker, she reached inside, found a scoop, and attempted to scoop out some coffee. Her squint became more of a scowl. "Arrr. No coffee. Kill Trent. Then kill me." She turned her semi-fierce countenance on Daria. "Then kill you."
Daria grinned. Attempted humor. That was a good sign. "Stay thy hand, o wrathful slayer. I bring a ransom to buy my life." She rose, removed the lid from a can she had been holding, and held it out so Jane could read the label.
The can in Jane's hand hit the floor with an empty-coffee-can-hitting-the- floor sound. Eschewing literacy, Jane seized the can Daria offered, held it to her nose, and inhaled deeply. "Ahhh, coffeee. No kill this time." She continued on to the coffeemaker and initiated her programmed coffeemaking sequence.
A few minutes later, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the kitchen. Jane and Daria sat at the table with steaming mugs. Jane raised hers and took a sip. "Ahh. Bleh." She scowled at the mug, then took another sip. "Hmm. What kind of coffee is this?" She squinted at the can again. "What the heck is Jebel El Mootfah?"
"It's Arabic." Daria replied. "It means 'Mountain of the Cannon.' Somewhere on there it says it's from Yemen, where coffee was first discovered."
"Hmmf. Does Yemen have mountains?"
"I think so. I'll check later. Dad brought this home, and we didn't quite fall in love with it. I thought you might like to try some genuine Yemeni coffee."
"It's the best Yemeni coffee I've ever had, by Yiminy. So, uh, what was I supposed to be ready for, again?"
"The Farewell To Lawndale tour, remember?" Daria held up a camera. "We're going to ride around and bid farewell to all the fondly remembered scenes of our carefree youth."
"Oh, yeah. And wasn't this going to run concurrently with looking for markets for my artwork?"
"I do seem to recall a mention of that. So, you ready?"
Jane looked down at her sleeping togs. "As soon as I change into my artist costume. Help yourself to the coffee." She rose and headed for the stairs.
"You don't like it." Daria faux pouted.
"It's great. It's the best coffee in the house. Really pretty can. Maybe a little darker roast than I prefer, but..."
"Yeah, me too. Hurry up. We'll hit Krispy Grease donuts, maybe flirt with some cops."
"You, flirt? I'll bring a video camera."
Daria's expertly flung plastic coffee can lid caught her in the butt before she could make it up the stairs.
~*~
Jane retrieved her camera from the hood of Daria's car and advanced the film. "Well, we got pictures of us standing in front of the giant strawberry, us standing in front of the statue of the Unknown Guy, us standing in front of The Zen, and now us standing in front of Dear Old Lawndale High."
"In memory ever bright," said Daria as she stepped away from the Lawndale High sign toward the car. "Whatever happened to all the other fondly remembered scenes of our carefree youth?"
"Well, there's your room, my room, and the booth at Pizza King, I guess. Other than that, I draw a blank."
"Jeez, were we that boring? What about the spot where you became a woman?" Daria opened the driver's side door and got in.
Jane snorted. "As soon as I do, I'll be sure to get a picture of the thus- hallowed ground. I won't bother asking you that question." She closed her door and reached for the seat belt.
"Hey, it could happen. I thought about it once, but I had to take a book back to the library."
"That's what I admire about you. You always keep your priorities straight."
Daria started the car. "I try. So, I take it you're not going to leave any paintings at the mat and frame shop?"
"No freaking way! Not only did that guy want to charge me up front for leaving paintings on consignment, he handed me a list of this season's decorator-approved colors! He's lucky I didn't deck him!"
"You never deck anybody when I have my camera." Daria pulled away from the curb.
"Well, you never deck anybody when I have mine, either."
Daria smirked. "Maybe when we get to Boston. I bet there are plenty of people there who need decking."
"I wouldn't be at all surprised. But if I don't sell some artwork, I won't be able to get there till spring semester. I was really lucky they offered me that opening for fall classes, but now I need to get lucky again to pay for it. I'm going to need at least another six thousand to cover the first two semesters."
"You don't need to have the whole six thousand now, though. You'll probably be able to get a grant or a part-time job before you run out. And maybe you can sell some paintings in Boston. It's a much bigger market than Lawndale."
"Yeah, but it's also more sophisticated. I have no idea what they'll think of my stuff. If I can get two thousand more this month, I'll take a chance and go. Otherwise, I'll have to pass the opening on to someone else and work till spring semester starts."
"What about your parents?"
"Ha. You tell me. Mom's in Colombia studying traditional native pottery, and Dad's in the interior of Borneo searching for tribes of cannibals."
"Yeesh! Did they tell you where they put their wills?"
Jane knew Daria was attempting to make light of the situation, but it was something that really bothered her. Apparently, she seldom registered on her parents' minds. "We never could talk them into making wills. They always start blithering about negative thoughts and bad vibrations. They say they'll do it later, when they start getting old."
"Oh, man. Talking about your parents makes me appreciate my parents. Hey, I just remembered something. I read somewhere that Cedars Medical Center hangs more art by local artists than the art museum does. They have lots of hall wall space that needs decorating. You wanna try there?"
"I probably read it the same place you did. Turns out they have a six- month waiting list. I got on it, but it won't help me right now."
"What about Art In The Park?"
"I only sold two pieces last time. I could've done better cleaning offices that day. The best thing to come out of that was meeting Gary."
Daria frowned slightly. Jane had made good money painting copies for Gary, and could do so again. Ten or fifteen paintings would give her all the money she needed, but what would it do to her creativity? "Uh, do you suppose he might know some places you could check?"
Jane frowned too. "He might. I guess I should ask."
Daria nodded and headed for Gary's Gallery.
As they pulled up in front of the gallery Jane wore a doubtful expression. At the door she hesitated, then steeled herself and walked in. Daria followed her. Gary looked up from his desk. "Jane Lane! I was just thinking of you! Do you need more money for art supplies, I hope? Another gazebo, maybe? I'm sure I can help."
Jane smiled at Gary. "What I need is tuition money. I'm on my way to Boston Fine Arts College."
Gary looked impressed. "Congratulations, Jane! That's a fine school. Say, I've had several requests for Picassos. I'll bet you could do a great Picasso!"
"Thanks, Gary, but no more copies for me. It just messes with my creativity too much, and I need my creativity more than I need the money. I was hoping you could suggest some places where I might sell some of my own stuff."
Gary looked disappointed. "Yeah, I understand. There's Cedars Medical Center. You already know about Art in the Park. I don't think your work would sell well at the Mat and Frame shop, but you could try."
"Already tried those." Jane stared at the floor for a moment, then looked up. "How about you, Gary? Do you ever sell any original works? I can be flexible on style and subject."
Gary sighed. "I sometimes display original pieces to accommodate my artists, but, as you can see, I don't have a lot of display space. The original works usually don't sell, except for nudes. Bring me a nude in a more-or-less realistic style, and I'll display it for you, same terms as before."
Jane sighed in her turn. "I've been wanting to paint some nudes, but I can't afford to hire a model, and I don't know anyone who'd do it for free."
"Well, I'm afraid I don't have the figure for it." Gary smiled. He glanced at Daria. "Your friend here would be an excellent model."
Daria's face turned bright red. Seeing this, Jane put a hand on her shoulder and steered her towards the door. "It's not her thing. Thanks anyway, Gary."
"Good luck, Jane. I wish I could have been more helpful." Gary regretted embarrassing Jane's friend, but decided an apology wasn't called for, and probably wouldn't do any good anyway.
Outside, Jane saw that Daria was still blushing red. "You okay, amiga?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"He meant it as a compliment, you know."
"Yeah, I know. It was a compliment. I should be flattered. I'll work on it." They got in the car. Daria gripped the steering wheel with both hands and took a deep breath. After a moment her color began to return to normal. She slipped the key into the ignition, started the engine, and pulled away.
Jane looked over at Daria. She had long known that Daria would indeed make an excellent model. Daria had a fine slender figure, though she went to great pains to conceal that fact, and her face ranged from pretty to hauntingly beautiful, depending on viewing angle. When she tilted her head down and to the right a little...
But Daria saw herself as a mind forced to inhabit a body, and she resented it. She especially resented being judged by her appearance. Daria had minimized her attractiveness for so long, as a strategy to minimize interaction with 'normal' people her age, as well as for philosophical reasons, that she had become accustomed to the plain-little-girl part she played, even though she had to know that she was quite pretty.
Jane had wanted to draw and paint her friend almost since they'd first met. She'd done lots of quick sketches of Daria in school, mostly profiles, and Daria had grudgingly sat for a few more detailed sketches, always fully clothed, usually reading. But it was obvious that she was uncomfortable with even this, and so Jane had not shown her the portraits that she'd later done from a couple of those sketches.
Jane ached to paint Daria, clothed, partly clothed, draped, or nude. Especially nude, especially after Daria had started that Jeet Kune Do course and her muscles had become more defined. But after one time when she'd persisted a bit too long in her attempt to persuade, and Daria's strained jocularity had cracked and some of her true feelings had gotten through, she had never asked again. They had both quickly apologized and made up, and both felt somewhat abashed about the incident, but Jane had understood Daria better after that.
Now, the situation was somewhat different. Jane really needed a few good saleable paintings to pay for college, and Daria no longer needed to hide her comeliness from her horny, dimwitted former classmates. If Jane asked now, Daria might say yes. But Daria didn't believe in situational ethics, and, after they'd discussed it one evening in the dull depths of summer reruns, neither did Jane. It would be wrong of her to put pressure on her friend like that. And Jane would not risk her friendship with Daria for the sake of getting into BFAC a semester early. She would get the money somehow, or she would not. It wasn't that big a thing. Jane sighed and watched her soon-to-be-former hometown slide by.
Daria cast a sideways glance at Jane, and read her thoughts in her expression. Jane wanted her to model. She had asked many times, and Daria had said no. Now Jane really needed the money, and had a chance to sell a nude, but she would not ask again. Daria was grateful for that. She definitely did not want to pose nude, but it would be very difficult to turn Jane down now. She didn't know if she could. She was, after all, the one who'd goaded Jane into applying to BFAC.
Daria wanted to thank her friend, but didn't want to state what for. "Hey, you wanna come over and eat some pot stickers?" she said instead.
"Some what?"
"You know, those Chinese dumpling things. Dad bought a bunch of frozen ones and a steamer set to cook them in, but he kind of made a mess the first time he tried to steam them, and now he says he doesn't like them anymore."
Jane smiled. That Jake, always good for a chuckle. "Sure. Sounds good." Jane looked away from Daria back to where they were headed, but her thoughts were elsewhere. There must be someone who'd model for her. Quinn would be good, but she wasn't eighteen yet. There was probably some sort of law. That would rule out Stacy too. Jane wasn't sure about Sandi and Tiffany. She'd heard rumors that they'd been held back a grade. Not that they'd do it, anyway. Birthday suits weren't fashionable because they couldn't buy a new one every season.
Brittany? Naah. If Jane painted her realistically, it would look like a gross exaggeration. Jodie? She wouldn't do it, and if she did, her parents would disown her. Summer might do it, if she could get away from constantly riding herd on her four children for a few hours, and if she were in Lawndale. Penny? Jane had no idea whether she would, or where she was.
With a sigh, Jane realized she didn't know anyone else well enough to ask her to model. She'd tried being her own model before, with poor results.
Daria heard Jane's sigh, and felt a twinge. She cast about for something to say to distract her, and came up empty. Thankfully, they were only a block from home.
~*~
Daria placed the bamboo lid on the stack of bamboo steamer trays and carefully set them in the wok on the stove, in which water was beginning to boil. Jane was reading the label on a recently emptied plastic bag. "Why do they call them pot stickers?" she asked.
"They tend to stick to whatever you cook them in, unless you grease their little bottoms thoroughly. But the main reason is that we roundeyes can't pronounce their Chinese names."
"Oh, yeah? I bet I could. But I don't see any Chinese names on here. What are they?"
Daria cast a sidewise glance at Jane. "Even I can't pronounce them very well, but, depending on whether you steam them, fry them, or boil them, they're called srui chow, tsun chow, or... um, I forgot the other one."
Jane cocked a skeptical eyebrow at her friend. "And where did you learn that? Been lurking round the back door of the Good Time Chinese Restaurant again?"
Daria smiled a tiny bit. "I went with Melody to Beijing last month. She was trying to find out who Bill Clinton's handlers are, and what bank account they send his money to."
Jane feigned indignation. "Now you stop talkin' 'bout my Billy that way! He never done none o' them awful things they say he done! It's all lies, hearsay, and gossip!" she squawked in what she probably thought was an Arkansas accent.
Daria smirked. "Hey, why don't you ask Ms. DeFoe if she knows any place where you might sell some paintings?"
Jane froze in mid-bite. "That's not a bad idea." She reached for the phone book and began leafing through the white pages. "But don't think I'm gonna forget that scurrilous slander against my charming Billy!"
A few minutes later, the two friends were sitting at the kitchen table consuming the steamed pot stickers. Jane said, "These are good! It's a little weird dunking dumplings in a teacup, though."
"I'm just so embarrassed that I don't have a set of those tiny little Chinese sauce dishes that are no earthly good for anything but to dunk Chinese dumplings in." Daria replied with a teeny bit of sarcasm. "I'll get some the very next time I'm in Taiwan, Hong Kong, or the PRC. However..." She rose and opened the refrigerator, and returned with a small bottle with an oriental looking label and sprinkled a few drops from it into her teacup, then set it on the table where Jane could reach it. "Try this."
Jane picked up the bottle and read the label, then sniffed it. "Toasted Sesame oil. Mmm!" She smiled and sprinkled some in her sauce as Daria had done.
"So what did Ms. DeFoe tell you?" Daria asked around a mouthful of dumpling.
Jane made an indistinct sound and held up a hand while she chewed. "She said the Lawndale Art Museum is going to have a juried exhibit for local artists, and there's a one thousand dollar purchase prize. I have a week from next Monday to enter something."
So, thought Daria as she dunked another dumpling, Jane had a week and a half to pull a rabbit out of her hat and come up with a painting good enough to win that $1000 purchase prize, and then the rest of the month to pull another rabbit out of... somewhere, and come up with another thousand. She'd cover all bets on that.
Part Two coming soon. If you got this far, please review and tell me what you think, good, bad, or so-so. You know, reviews are the closest thing to pay we poor fanfic writers get. Thanks.
Those of you new to FanFiction.net, you can check out my other works by clicking on Lawndale Stalker. That'll take you to my author page, where my other fics are listed. Pick one and click on it.
Galen Hardesty [[email protected]]
Disclaimer
"Daria" and all related characters are trademarks of MTV Networks, a division of Viacom International, inc. The author does not claim copyright to these characters or to anything else in the "Daria" milieu; he does, however, claim copyright to all those parts of this work of fiction which are original to him and not to MTV or to other fanfic authors. This fanfic may be freely copied and distributed provided its contents remain unchanged, provided the author's name and email address are included, and provided that the distributor does not use it for monetary profit. (as if.)
by Galen Hardesty
Part One
It was a sunny summer day in Lawndale. Daria Morgendorffer pulled up in front of Casa Lane, got out of her car, and headed up the sidewalk to Jane's front door. She noted in passing that the welded sculpture in the front yard was seriously in need of corrosion control treatment. She doubted it would receive any. That was kind of sad.
Daria knocked on the door, then turned to admire her car gleaming in the Lawndale morning sunshine. It wasn't new, but it was low mileage, it ran well, and it was very cheap to operate. Nearly fifty mpg on the highway, if the tires were properly inflated. And it was a beautiful metallic green. Daria loved her car.
Daria turned back to the door as her keen hearing picked up soft footfalls approaching from inside. The knob rattled briefly, then turned, and the door creaked open, revealing Jane squinting in the sunlight. "Mrrf," she greeted Daria gaily.
"And a fine morning to you, too." Daria smirked. "Won't you come in? Thanks, I'd love to." She squeezed past Jane while the latter was trying to decide whether and how to reply to that.
"So, are you ready to go?" Daria asked, still smirking at the shambling zombie that was Jane in the morning.
"Go. Mmmh. Need coffee." Jane shot back wittily. She turned and shambled in the general direction of the kitchen.
Daria took a seat at the Lane kitchen table to enjoy the spectacle of Lawndale High's one-time track star barely able to walk. She knew the more Jane used her leg muscles, the more blood would reach her brain, and the closer she would come to full consciousness.
Jane opened a cabinet, pulled out a coffee can, and managed to claw the plastic lid off it. Shuffling toward the coffeemaker, she reached inside, found a scoop, and attempted to scoop out some coffee. Her squint became more of a scowl. "Arrr. No coffee. Kill Trent. Then kill me." She turned her semi-fierce countenance on Daria. "Then kill you."
Daria grinned. Attempted humor. That was a good sign. "Stay thy hand, o wrathful slayer. I bring a ransom to buy my life." She rose, removed the lid from a can she had been holding, and held it out so Jane could read the label.
The can in Jane's hand hit the floor with an empty-coffee-can-hitting-the- floor sound. Eschewing literacy, Jane seized the can Daria offered, held it to her nose, and inhaled deeply. "Ahhh, coffeee. No kill this time." She continued on to the coffeemaker and initiated her programmed coffeemaking sequence.
A few minutes later, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the kitchen. Jane and Daria sat at the table with steaming mugs. Jane raised hers and took a sip. "Ahh. Bleh." She scowled at the mug, then took another sip. "Hmm. What kind of coffee is this?" She squinted at the can again. "What the heck is Jebel El Mootfah?"
"It's Arabic." Daria replied. "It means 'Mountain of the Cannon.' Somewhere on there it says it's from Yemen, where coffee was first discovered."
"Hmmf. Does Yemen have mountains?"
"I think so. I'll check later. Dad brought this home, and we didn't quite fall in love with it. I thought you might like to try some genuine Yemeni coffee."
"It's the best Yemeni coffee I've ever had, by Yiminy. So, uh, what was I supposed to be ready for, again?"
"The Farewell To Lawndale tour, remember?" Daria held up a camera. "We're going to ride around and bid farewell to all the fondly remembered scenes of our carefree youth."
"Oh, yeah. And wasn't this going to run concurrently with looking for markets for my artwork?"
"I do seem to recall a mention of that. So, you ready?"
Jane looked down at her sleeping togs. "As soon as I change into my artist costume. Help yourself to the coffee." She rose and headed for the stairs.
"You don't like it." Daria faux pouted.
"It's great. It's the best coffee in the house. Really pretty can. Maybe a little darker roast than I prefer, but..."
"Yeah, me too. Hurry up. We'll hit Krispy Grease donuts, maybe flirt with some cops."
"You, flirt? I'll bring a video camera."
Daria's expertly flung plastic coffee can lid caught her in the butt before she could make it up the stairs.
~*~
Jane retrieved her camera from the hood of Daria's car and advanced the film. "Well, we got pictures of us standing in front of the giant strawberry, us standing in front of the statue of the Unknown Guy, us standing in front of The Zen, and now us standing in front of Dear Old Lawndale High."
"In memory ever bright," said Daria as she stepped away from the Lawndale High sign toward the car. "Whatever happened to all the other fondly remembered scenes of our carefree youth?"
"Well, there's your room, my room, and the booth at Pizza King, I guess. Other than that, I draw a blank."
"Jeez, were we that boring? What about the spot where you became a woman?" Daria opened the driver's side door and got in.
Jane snorted. "As soon as I do, I'll be sure to get a picture of the thus- hallowed ground. I won't bother asking you that question." She closed her door and reached for the seat belt.
"Hey, it could happen. I thought about it once, but I had to take a book back to the library."
"That's what I admire about you. You always keep your priorities straight."
Daria started the car. "I try. So, I take it you're not going to leave any paintings at the mat and frame shop?"
"No freaking way! Not only did that guy want to charge me up front for leaving paintings on consignment, he handed me a list of this season's decorator-approved colors! He's lucky I didn't deck him!"
"You never deck anybody when I have my camera." Daria pulled away from the curb.
"Well, you never deck anybody when I have mine, either."
Daria smirked. "Maybe when we get to Boston. I bet there are plenty of people there who need decking."
"I wouldn't be at all surprised. But if I don't sell some artwork, I won't be able to get there till spring semester. I was really lucky they offered me that opening for fall classes, but now I need to get lucky again to pay for it. I'm going to need at least another six thousand to cover the first two semesters."
"You don't need to have the whole six thousand now, though. You'll probably be able to get a grant or a part-time job before you run out. And maybe you can sell some paintings in Boston. It's a much bigger market than Lawndale."
"Yeah, but it's also more sophisticated. I have no idea what they'll think of my stuff. If I can get two thousand more this month, I'll take a chance and go. Otherwise, I'll have to pass the opening on to someone else and work till spring semester starts."
"What about your parents?"
"Ha. You tell me. Mom's in Colombia studying traditional native pottery, and Dad's in the interior of Borneo searching for tribes of cannibals."
"Yeesh! Did they tell you where they put their wills?"
Jane knew Daria was attempting to make light of the situation, but it was something that really bothered her. Apparently, she seldom registered on her parents' minds. "We never could talk them into making wills. They always start blithering about negative thoughts and bad vibrations. They say they'll do it later, when they start getting old."
"Oh, man. Talking about your parents makes me appreciate my parents. Hey, I just remembered something. I read somewhere that Cedars Medical Center hangs more art by local artists than the art museum does. They have lots of hall wall space that needs decorating. You wanna try there?"
"I probably read it the same place you did. Turns out they have a six- month waiting list. I got on it, but it won't help me right now."
"What about Art In The Park?"
"I only sold two pieces last time. I could've done better cleaning offices that day. The best thing to come out of that was meeting Gary."
Daria frowned slightly. Jane had made good money painting copies for Gary, and could do so again. Ten or fifteen paintings would give her all the money she needed, but what would it do to her creativity? "Uh, do you suppose he might know some places you could check?"
Jane frowned too. "He might. I guess I should ask."
Daria nodded and headed for Gary's Gallery.
As they pulled up in front of the gallery Jane wore a doubtful expression. At the door she hesitated, then steeled herself and walked in. Daria followed her. Gary looked up from his desk. "Jane Lane! I was just thinking of you! Do you need more money for art supplies, I hope? Another gazebo, maybe? I'm sure I can help."
Jane smiled at Gary. "What I need is tuition money. I'm on my way to Boston Fine Arts College."
Gary looked impressed. "Congratulations, Jane! That's a fine school. Say, I've had several requests for Picassos. I'll bet you could do a great Picasso!"
"Thanks, Gary, but no more copies for me. It just messes with my creativity too much, and I need my creativity more than I need the money. I was hoping you could suggest some places where I might sell some of my own stuff."
Gary looked disappointed. "Yeah, I understand. There's Cedars Medical Center. You already know about Art in the Park. I don't think your work would sell well at the Mat and Frame shop, but you could try."
"Already tried those." Jane stared at the floor for a moment, then looked up. "How about you, Gary? Do you ever sell any original works? I can be flexible on style and subject."
Gary sighed. "I sometimes display original pieces to accommodate my artists, but, as you can see, I don't have a lot of display space. The original works usually don't sell, except for nudes. Bring me a nude in a more-or-less realistic style, and I'll display it for you, same terms as before."
Jane sighed in her turn. "I've been wanting to paint some nudes, but I can't afford to hire a model, and I don't know anyone who'd do it for free."
"Well, I'm afraid I don't have the figure for it." Gary smiled. He glanced at Daria. "Your friend here would be an excellent model."
Daria's face turned bright red. Seeing this, Jane put a hand on her shoulder and steered her towards the door. "It's not her thing. Thanks anyway, Gary."
"Good luck, Jane. I wish I could have been more helpful." Gary regretted embarrassing Jane's friend, but decided an apology wasn't called for, and probably wouldn't do any good anyway.
Outside, Jane saw that Daria was still blushing red. "You okay, amiga?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"He meant it as a compliment, you know."
"Yeah, I know. It was a compliment. I should be flattered. I'll work on it." They got in the car. Daria gripped the steering wheel with both hands and took a deep breath. After a moment her color began to return to normal. She slipped the key into the ignition, started the engine, and pulled away.
Jane looked over at Daria. She had long known that Daria would indeed make an excellent model. Daria had a fine slender figure, though she went to great pains to conceal that fact, and her face ranged from pretty to hauntingly beautiful, depending on viewing angle. When she tilted her head down and to the right a little...
But Daria saw herself as a mind forced to inhabit a body, and she resented it. She especially resented being judged by her appearance. Daria had minimized her attractiveness for so long, as a strategy to minimize interaction with 'normal' people her age, as well as for philosophical reasons, that she had become accustomed to the plain-little-girl part she played, even though she had to know that she was quite pretty.
Jane had wanted to draw and paint her friend almost since they'd first met. She'd done lots of quick sketches of Daria in school, mostly profiles, and Daria had grudgingly sat for a few more detailed sketches, always fully clothed, usually reading. But it was obvious that she was uncomfortable with even this, and so Jane had not shown her the portraits that she'd later done from a couple of those sketches.
Jane ached to paint Daria, clothed, partly clothed, draped, or nude. Especially nude, especially after Daria had started that Jeet Kune Do course and her muscles had become more defined. But after one time when she'd persisted a bit too long in her attempt to persuade, and Daria's strained jocularity had cracked and some of her true feelings had gotten through, she had never asked again. They had both quickly apologized and made up, and both felt somewhat abashed about the incident, but Jane had understood Daria better after that.
Now, the situation was somewhat different. Jane really needed a few good saleable paintings to pay for college, and Daria no longer needed to hide her comeliness from her horny, dimwitted former classmates. If Jane asked now, Daria might say yes. But Daria didn't believe in situational ethics, and, after they'd discussed it one evening in the dull depths of summer reruns, neither did Jane. It would be wrong of her to put pressure on her friend like that. And Jane would not risk her friendship with Daria for the sake of getting into BFAC a semester early. She would get the money somehow, or she would not. It wasn't that big a thing. Jane sighed and watched her soon-to-be-former hometown slide by.
Daria cast a sideways glance at Jane, and read her thoughts in her expression. Jane wanted her to model. She had asked many times, and Daria had said no. Now Jane really needed the money, and had a chance to sell a nude, but she would not ask again. Daria was grateful for that. She definitely did not want to pose nude, but it would be very difficult to turn Jane down now. She didn't know if she could. She was, after all, the one who'd goaded Jane into applying to BFAC.
Daria wanted to thank her friend, but didn't want to state what for. "Hey, you wanna come over and eat some pot stickers?" she said instead.
"Some what?"
"You know, those Chinese dumpling things. Dad bought a bunch of frozen ones and a steamer set to cook them in, but he kind of made a mess the first time he tried to steam them, and now he says he doesn't like them anymore."
Jane smiled. That Jake, always good for a chuckle. "Sure. Sounds good." Jane looked away from Daria back to where they were headed, but her thoughts were elsewhere. There must be someone who'd model for her. Quinn would be good, but she wasn't eighteen yet. There was probably some sort of law. That would rule out Stacy too. Jane wasn't sure about Sandi and Tiffany. She'd heard rumors that they'd been held back a grade. Not that they'd do it, anyway. Birthday suits weren't fashionable because they couldn't buy a new one every season.
Brittany? Naah. If Jane painted her realistically, it would look like a gross exaggeration. Jodie? She wouldn't do it, and if she did, her parents would disown her. Summer might do it, if she could get away from constantly riding herd on her four children for a few hours, and if she were in Lawndale. Penny? Jane had no idea whether she would, or where she was.
With a sigh, Jane realized she didn't know anyone else well enough to ask her to model. She'd tried being her own model before, with poor results.
Daria heard Jane's sigh, and felt a twinge. She cast about for something to say to distract her, and came up empty. Thankfully, they were only a block from home.
~*~
Daria placed the bamboo lid on the stack of bamboo steamer trays and carefully set them in the wok on the stove, in which water was beginning to boil. Jane was reading the label on a recently emptied plastic bag. "Why do they call them pot stickers?" she asked.
"They tend to stick to whatever you cook them in, unless you grease their little bottoms thoroughly. But the main reason is that we roundeyes can't pronounce their Chinese names."
"Oh, yeah? I bet I could. But I don't see any Chinese names on here. What are they?"
Daria cast a sidewise glance at Jane. "Even I can't pronounce them very well, but, depending on whether you steam them, fry them, or boil them, they're called srui chow, tsun chow, or... um, I forgot the other one."
Jane cocked a skeptical eyebrow at her friend. "And where did you learn that? Been lurking round the back door of the Good Time Chinese Restaurant again?"
Daria smiled a tiny bit. "I went with Melody to Beijing last month. She was trying to find out who Bill Clinton's handlers are, and what bank account they send his money to."
Jane feigned indignation. "Now you stop talkin' 'bout my Billy that way! He never done none o' them awful things they say he done! It's all lies, hearsay, and gossip!" she squawked in what she probably thought was an Arkansas accent.
Daria smirked. "Hey, why don't you ask Ms. DeFoe if she knows any place where you might sell some paintings?"
Jane froze in mid-bite. "That's not a bad idea." She reached for the phone book and began leafing through the white pages. "But don't think I'm gonna forget that scurrilous slander against my charming Billy!"
A few minutes later, the two friends were sitting at the kitchen table consuming the steamed pot stickers. Jane said, "These are good! It's a little weird dunking dumplings in a teacup, though."
"I'm just so embarrassed that I don't have a set of those tiny little Chinese sauce dishes that are no earthly good for anything but to dunk Chinese dumplings in." Daria replied with a teeny bit of sarcasm. "I'll get some the very next time I'm in Taiwan, Hong Kong, or the PRC. However..." She rose and opened the refrigerator, and returned with a small bottle with an oriental looking label and sprinkled a few drops from it into her teacup, then set it on the table where Jane could reach it. "Try this."
Jane picked up the bottle and read the label, then sniffed it. "Toasted Sesame oil. Mmm!" She smiled and sprinkled some in her sauce as Daria had done.
"So what did Ms. DeFoe tell you?" Daria asked around a mouthful of dumpling.
Jane made an indistinct sound and held up a hand while she chewed. "She said the Lawndale Art Museum is going to have a juried exhibit for local artists, and there's a one thousand dollar purchase prize. I have a week from next Monday to enter something."
So, thought Daria as she dunked another dumpling, Jane had a week and a half to pull a rabbit out of her hat and come up with a painting good enough to win that $1000 purchase prize, and then the rest of the month to pull another rabbit out of... somewhere, and come up with another thousand. She'd cover all bets on that.
Part Two coming soon. If you got this far, please review and tell me what you think, good, bad, or so-so. You know, reviews are the closest thing to pay we poor fanfic writers get. Thanks.
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Galen Hardesty [[email protected]]
Disclaimer
"Daria" and all related characters are trademarks of MTV Networks, a division of Viacom International, inc. The author does not claim copyright to these characters or to anything else in the "Daria" milieu; he does, however, claim copyright to all those parts of this work of fiction which are original to him and not to MTV or to other fanfic authors. This fanfic may be freely copied and distributed provided its contents remain unchanged, provided the author's name and email address are included, and provided that the distributor does not use it for monetary profit. (as if.)