Jane lay on a couch with her foot wrapped and splinted. She took comfort that no bones were showing.
If only she could convince them to let her stay. Her foot hurt like Hell, but if she went to the hospital, it might be hours, even days, before she learned anything.
She didn't know if Daria were alive or dead, and was desperate not to dwell on the last part. She had to be alive, she had to.
She didn't want Sandi dead either, but she'd put up with it it would assure Daria's survival.
She felt guilty about this. She didn't like feeling guilty, nor did she like this feeling of helplessness.
She wished she could run to get her mind off of it...
"Will you wait up?" commanded Sandi.
Daria kept walking. Even when she was "like, not talking to you" she still kept up a constant litany of complaints, from the loss of her purse to the present state of her clothes ("Ruined! Brand new, and, like, ruined!) to the aches and pains from their "Wild River Rampage." Daria was getting fed up.
"Quinn's cousin or whatever! Slow down!"
Daria turned slowly as Sandi caught up. "I have a name, you know," she said through gritted teeth.
"So?"
"And for your information, I am not Quinn's cousin, I am her sister."
"Like, that's big news, or something?"
"Huh?"
"Like, we all know you're her sister, duh!"
"But..."
Sandi swept past. "We respect her need to distance herself from you, for the sake of her position."
"How long have you known, damnit?"
"Ever since you thanked her at that assembly," Sandi snorted. "I thought that was such a nice thing to do. I was actually proud for you, taking such an essential step away from geekdom, although, granted, in a somewhat geeky manner, but it was a beginning." She stoped and looked at Daria. "Or, at least, it could have been one. You have such potential. Why do you waste it like this?"
"Excuse me, I don't think I'm wasting anything. What's being wasted by the vast majority of people is this." She pointed to her head.
"What are you talking about? You never do anything with your hair."
Daria put her hand on her forehead. "Not the hair, damnit, the brain!"
"Ewwww! You actually think everybody wants to be a brain?"
"No. I'm perfectly aware that most people are content to continue down their mindless road to happy oblivion. Not me, no way, no thank you."
"But you have such promise!"
"Oh, please."
"Just look at you. A little make-up, a new hairstyle, a little... okay, a lot of work on your wardrobe... Anyway, the school could be your oyster!"
"I don't like oysters."
"You know what I mean."
Daria thought for a moment. "Do you think I could possibly out do Quinn?"
"Easily."
"I knew it."
"Knew what?"
Daria stopped. "You want me to be your Eliza Dolittle to get back at Quinn."
"Ooooooh, you are, like, impossible!"
"I try my best."
"Look, you would benefit too, you know."
Daria snorted. People can accept me or reject me based on who I am, no make-up, no hairstyling, just me. It really doesn't matter to me."
Sandi looked surprised. "It doesn't, does it?"
"You find that surprising?"
"Duh! Most people want to be popular."
"Wrong, Quinn's friend, most people want to be liked by their fellow human beings. Popularity is just one way of obtaining it."
"Popularity is hard to attain. Nothing you have to work that hard at be that shallow okay? Just think of the work that goes into choosing the proper outfit."
"You choose two, no more than three, complementary colors, textures, or materials as the main body of you outfit, plus a contrasting color to add visual interest."
Sandi was flabbergasted. "But... but how... no, why do you dress like that when you know better?"
"Simple. What could be a worse match than orange and green? Or boots with a pleated mini-skirt? How does my jacket look with the skirt? One outfit, custom made to repel the likes of you and Quinn, the same outfit every day, Leaving me time to concentrate on more important matters than, 'what should I wear today?'" She smirked and added, "The jeans are mearly utilitarian, to protect my legs from the brush."
Daria walked on, enjoying Sandi's confused, indignant silence.
"They were lucky," said Shane.
"Real lucky," said Mack, looking up at the waterfall.
"If the river hadn't made this bend here," said Ted, "They'd have been swept on downstream, instead of coming ashore here."
"Looks like it's been about half an hour," said Mack. "Daria should have ditched the boots."
"Maybe she didn't have time," said Shane, "But they should have stayed put."
"My guess is that if it were up to Daria, they would have," he answered. "Sandi probably goaded her into it."
Shane nodded ruefully. "Sandi's good at that. Looks like they went that-a-way."
"Okay, that-a-way is were we head."
Daria stopped. "Behold," she said, "civilization!"
Sandi gave her a weird look. "Like, what are you talking about? That's a trash heap."
"And what is the byproduct of civilization?"
"I don't know... the Backstreet Boys, maybe?"
Daria rolled her eyes. "Your version of civilization is far more twisted than mine. I was being ironic, anyway."
"Well, stop it. Nobody likes that crap anyway."
"Nobody popular, anyway." She sighed. "I think there may be a road up there."
"What?"
"A road," she said slowly, "up there."
Sandi looked up the slope. "Well, I'm not climbing up there."
"Fine," said Daria, starting up the bluff. "Stay here, with all the hillbilly raping bears."
Sandi watched Daria climbing, strugling up the slope, pulling herself up with trees and vines. She snorted in disdain. Then, behind Sandi, an owl whose slumber was being disturbed by Daria's less-than-silent ascent, gave voice to her irritation.
"Hoo-whuah!" she said, "Hu-hu-hu-whah!"
Sandi beat Daria to the top of the slope.
"Ohmigod, ohmigod!" she whimpered as Daria pulled herself over the top, "what was that?"
Daria blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, stood up, and looked at Sandi. "I believe," she said evenly, "that it was some type of owl."
"Huh?"
"A bird."
"No way!"
Daria turned away. "At least it wasn't a screech owl," she muttered, "you'd have been halfway to Lawndale by now."
"Are they dangerous?"
Daria briefly thought back to the days at Camp Dragonfly, when she would amuse herself at night by frightening her bunkmates with tales of "the great, horny owl, who would take little girls out into the woods and do God-knows-what to them," but decided that Sandi was just too close to the edge.
"No, Quinn's friend, they're harmless."
Sandi looked around. "I thought you said there was a road up here?"
"Yes. This is it."
Sandi wiped her eye. "This is a road?"
"It's a dirt road. With luck it will lead to a black-top road or a house. Then if we're really, really lucky, there won't be a serial killer living there." She stopped and looked at Sandi. "What are you doing?"
Sandi had sat down in the middle of the road with her back to Daria. She was leaning forward, and her shoulders were heaving.
Daria sighed again, rolling her eyes heavenward. Then, through gritted teeth, she said, "Look, I'm sorry about the serial killer crack. We're on a road, we'll be found soon. We won't even have to spend the night out here. You don't have to cry."
"*sniffle*, 'm not crying," she sobbed.
"Fine, just don't worry."
Daria walked down the road a few steps to give Sandi some time to pull herself together. She stood, looking down the valley, for a few minutes, then heard what sounded like a high pitched squeek, coming from Sandi. She looked back to see if she were alright.
Sandi was sitting still, looking attentively at the dump. Although she was still sniffling, with tear tracks down her cheek, it wasn't her who was making the noise.
Daria then realized the squeeks were coming from the garbage dump.
Sandi stood up and walked over.
"Be careful," Daria said, "It sounds like some sort of animal. It maybe a rat."
"It... it's not a rat," she replied, wiping her eyes. Reaching over, she took hold of a rusty metal bucket.
Daria stood ready to bolt, having as much faith in Sandi's animal identification skills as she did in Tiffany's sight-reading abilities.
"Oh!" said Sandi, turning the bucket over, "Oh, no!"
A pair of green eyes stared up at her from a small brown face. "Beeeee!" it said.
"Oh," said Sandi, "Shush, little one." She picked the kitten up, holding it to her breast and cooing.
"Oh, no," said Daria, "oh, no, wait just a minute. We are out here, lost in the woods. We can't take responsibility for a stray cat!"
Sandi turned on her a look of anger. "And, like, what do you suggest we do, Quinn's cousin? Abandon her again?"
"I'm just saying... well..."
"Then you tell her we're going to have to leave her out here!" She held the kitten defiantly toward Daria. It looked at her with big, trusting eyes. "Beee!" she reiterated.
Damn you Griffin, thought Daria, damn you to Hell, thought Daria, feeling her resolve melting in the kitten's gaze.
"Alright, Quinn's friend, but you're taking care of her."
Sandi looked triumphant, cuddled the kitten again, and went to sit by the road.
Daria dug in her pack and pulled out a meat stick. "Here," she said, handing it to Sandi. "She might be hungry."
"Ewwww! There's, like, no telling what's in that thing!"
"Meat, mainly," said Daria with a pointed look. "That is a carnivore, isn't it?"
"For your information, Ms. Brain, not all meats are good for cats. That's why you should never feed them dog food."
"Beee!" said the kittten.
Sandi looked at her, then at Daria. She rolled her eyes and said, "They can't eat pork, either, so if that doesn't have any pork in it, she can eat it."
Daria looked at the package. "'Beef, mechanically seperated chicken...' What in the world is mech... never mind, I don't want to know, 'water, salt, corn syrup, dextrose, flavorings, spice..."
"Alright, alright, enough, already! I guess it will work in an emergency."
Daria handed her the pack. After watching her strugle for a moment, she took it back and opened it for her.
"Thanks," Sandi glowered. "I guess I'm just not used to those packages."
"Think nothing of it," said Daria with a smug look.
Sandi turned to the task at hand, tearing off tiny chunks and feeding them to the kitten. It ate greedily.
Daria watched for a moment and said, "Ravenous little beast. How long do you think she's been out here?"
"Days, probably. Poor little darilings nothing but skin and bones."
"So how do you plan on getting her home? They'll never let you take her on the bus."
Sandi looked at Daria thoughtfully. "Well, you wanted to dry out your backpack..."
"Why did I not see that coming? You know, Stacy and Quinn had backpacks, too."
"They're not here, are they?"
Daria sighed, took off her pack and started laying things out to dry. Her notepads were quite wrinkled and covered with remnants of her sandwiches, which had been wrapped in wax paper.
Dad, she thought. I would have used a sandwich bag, but no, that's not good enough for Chez Jake She let her mind wander back to early this morning:
"Say, kiddos, ready for the big wilderness adventure? Hey, no need to worry about fixing a lunch! I whipped something up for both of you! Sandwiches a la Jake!"
Daria absently flicked a stray banana pepper off the library's paperback copy of "One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich," wondering how she might convince the librarian that she had checked the book out in that condition. Of all the days for him to decide to be helpfull...
She did find an apple, though (probably the only part that Quinn will touch, she thought). She wiped it off, and started to take a bite. She stopped and looked at the apple. Damned conscience, she thought.
She pulled out a small pocket knife and cut the apple in two. She then presented half to a surprised Sandi.