DEUS JANE
?005 The Angst Guy (theangstguy@yahoo.com)
Daria and associated characters are ?005 MTV Networks
Feedback (good, bad, indifferent, just want to bother me, whatever) is appreciated. Please write to: theangstguy@yahoo.com
Synopsis: What was happening behind the scenes of the Daria show? Were the show抯 artistic and script-related mistakes truly 揳ccidental? Who was the show really about? Discover the shocking answers in this fantasy crossover tale about a teenage girl whose Neverland was her own home town: Lawndale.
Author抯 Notes: The following is an experimental Daria fanfic, inspired by the writings of Philip K. Dick, Ursula K. LeGuin (The Lathe of Heaven), and James Matthew Barrie; the weird events, continuity errors, and animation-art mistakes introduced into episodes of the Daria show; a single comment by Jane Lane in 揟he Misery Chick?that had broad and startling implications; and Brother Grimace抯 搕ake a scene from the show and make my eyeballs bleed?Iron Chef challenge on SFMB. It ran longer than the challenge allowed, but so it goes. This story appeared on PPMB and SFMB in May 2005. More information is in the 揂uthor抯 Notes II?at the end of the story.
牋牋牋牋牋?FYI: Schlo?(schloss) is German for castle. Just so you know it when you see it.
Acknowledgements: My thanks to Brother Grimace for his Iron Chef, which I screwed up. Thanks also to James 揅INCGREEN?Bowman, whose speculations on Jane Lane抯 paternal-line relationship to various superheroes got me to wondering about her maternal line of ancestors; to E. A. Smith for finding the typo; and to Outpost Daria, which hosts an extensive list of all the animation errors in the Daria show (the 揙ops?column) at:
牋牋牋牋牋?http://www.outpost-daria.com/episode_guide.html
A marvelous introduction to the fiction of Philip K. Dick and its terrific impact is at:
牋牋牋牋牋?http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/11.12/philip.html
And, of course, thanks to James Matthew Barrie, whose most famous work is the foundation of this story.
牋牋牋牋牋?http://www.readprint.com/work-71/James-M--Barrie
Enjoy.
*
What is real?
桮audior the Unicorn,
A Swiftly Tilting Planet, by Madeleine L扙ngle
What is real?
桵orpheus, The Matrix
Oh, do not ask, 憌hat is it??o:p>
Let us go and make our visit.
棑The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,?by T. S. Eliot
* * *
牋牋牋牋牋?Some stories, but only a few, are best begun in the middle.
* * *
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane Lane knew she was dangerously pissed off because the locker numbers in front of her were changing at random. The lockers also changed between orange and light brown in color, and the lavender walls inside Lawndale High School had turned purple. Staying calm was paramount. If Jane lost her temper with the twenty-something asshole leaning against Daria Morgendorffer抯 locker, anything could happen條iterally anything.
牋牋牋牋牋?At the moment, Daria was talking to Tommy Sherman, but her words were drowned out by the roaring in Jane抯 head as she gazed in disgust at the oafish Lawndale High alumnus. It no longer mattered if he were real or dreamed in her subconscious. He had wreaked havoc in Jane抯 grand live-performance life story and offended everyone he met, real or not. Jane knew all of Tommy抯 misdeeds, as they had been witnessed and reported by her best friend and alter-ego, Daria. The crude proposition to Jane only a minute ago (or perhaps it was an insult, it was hard to tell) was nearly the last straw.
牋牋牋牋牋?So, you might talk to me four hours into a kegger party, right? Jane fumed. With a hand on your crotch and a leer on your face, no doubt. Vomiting on your shoes would hardly slow you down. A lay is a lay, right? Well, Tommy boy, I抎 like to see you get laid. I really would. Laid out cold and dead.
牋牋牋牋牋?揇o you know who I am??Tommy asked Daria with an incredulous grin. He tried to jog her memory, unaware of his peril. 揟ommy Sherman??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria had heard of Tommy that morning from Jane, who knew of Tommy from her big brother Trent. Trent and Tommy had graduated Lawndale High as classmates several years earlier. This was the primary reason Jane suspected Tommy was real and not an invented personality. You are a unwanted stranger in my strange land, ran her furious thoughts. And I hate strangers, I hate them to death, because a stranger chased me once a few years ago and he tried to?/i>
牋牋牋牋牋?As an evil memory surfaced, Tommy抯 jeans went from blue to mauve-purple; his light brown hair turned medium gray, and the locker numbers went blank. Every student and teacher in the hallway abruptly vanished, leaving only Jane, Daria, and Tommy. Jane alone noticed, but the mass disappearance did not bother her. It often happened when she was concentrating very hard.
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 know the whole school抯 turning itself inside out because of some egotistical football player,?Daria told Tommy with a cold glare, spilling Jane抯 thoughts right out of her mouth. 揂nd I抳e seen you insult or proposition just about everyone you come across. So, my guess is that you抮e the football player guy. Congratulations. You must have worked very hard to become a colossal jerk so quickly.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Tommy seemed taken aback to be addressed in this fearless way梑y a sophomore barely over five feet tall, and a girl at that.
牋牋牋牋牋?Not a real girl, though.
牋牋牋牋牋?Way to go, thought Jane to Daria with dark pride. Let him have it. Tell this jerk what we think of him. He can抰 do anything worse than insult us. She looked back at Tommy with narrow eyes. I抣l make sure of that.
牋牋牋牋牋?Tommy pulled away from Daria抯 locker and drew himself up. 揧ou know what Tommy Sherman抯 going to do now??he said to Daria, his nasal, white-trash accent filling the empty hall. He pointed to a nearby exit that hadn抰 been there a minute ago. 揌e抯 going to go out onto the field and check out his new goal post. He抯 going to read the plaque and think of all the people who admire him. But you wouldn抰 know anything about that. You抮e one of those misery chicks, always moping about what a cruel world it is, making a big deal about it so people won抰 notice that you抮e a loser.?He drew out the last word in a mocking tone, wiggling his fingers at Daria, then stalked off, muttering expletives under his breath. The exit door shut behind him. Daria looked after him with a stony face.
牋牋牋牋牋?Loser? thought Jane. Her self-control gave way like an eroded dam. You called us losers, you worthless Neanderthal asswipe? I抣l show you a loser. In an instant, she wadded up the invisible fireball of her rage and launched it at Tommy through the exit door. She cursed and damned him, struck him down and wiped him out. Reality rippled from the psychic blow梑ut all was calm a millisecond later. Or seemed to be.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane turned to Daria. 揑 don抰 think he likes you,?she said with a touch of sarcasm, picking up the threads of her live performance like a veteran actor.
牋牋牋牋牋?揟hat doesn抰 bother me,?Daria said in a bitter undertone, running on autopilot. 揥hat bothers me is that jerk is going to be treated like a hero for the rest of his life.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane knew better, but she grew nervous and self-righteous out of her rising guilt. 揥ell, maybe he won抰 live that long,?she retorted, raising an eyebrow. I don抰 care if it was wrong to zap him. He was a waste of space.
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria gave Jane a tired look, playing her role to the hilt. 揅ome on, you know wishes don抰 come true.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?How to answer that? You should know better, my na飗e other half. Wishes do come true, they really do, they?/i>
牋牋牋牋牋?A loud, startling crash echoed down the empty hall from the exit door. Jane sensed the crash had come from the football field, a five-minute walk from Daria抯 locker. Tommy must have walked through a spatial distortion to reach the gridiron in mere seconds. Her curse had doubtless brought the space warp into being. Whatever damnation had accompanied it had landed on its target.
牋牋牋牋牋?People reappeared in the hallway, looking exactly as they had when they抎 left. As the echoes of the crash faded, the startled students ran for the exit to see what had happened. Jane glanced uneasily at Daria. Then, above the chaos, Jane heard quarterback Kevin Thompson抯 hysterical wails. His voice carried perfectly from the football field into the school through the spatial distortion. 揙h, my God! The goalpost fell! Tommy Sherman抯 dead! He抯 dead!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?He抯 dead? Tommy抯 dead? Jane and Daria exchanged shocked looks, Jane抯 full of guilt and Daria抯 full of horror. Jane knew exactly what Daria was thinking. It was impossible not to. Jane had created Daria in her own image, after all.
牋牋牋牋牋?And now Jane Lane had killed one of the players in her gigantic live-in puppet show. Technically speaking, she was Tommy抯 murderer梑ut technically speaking, she never touched him. Her murder weapon was unknowable, invisible, impossible, divine. An accident, the police coroner ruled the death. Tommy had been crushed by a huge wooden shipping crate leaning against the grandstands by the football field, leaning just as Tommy had leaned on Daria抯 locker. The crate held the goal post named for him (vanity as its own punishment梩he irony, the irony). A powerful gust of wind must have pushed the crate over, of course.
牋牋牋牋牋?Of course.
牋牋牋牋牋?I抦 a murderer. I抳e gone and done it again. Again! And he didn抰 really even deserve it! How could I have done that? What should I do? What will Grandma J think if she finds out? Will she stop talking to me? What will become of me then?
牋牋牋牋牋?Getting over her guilt and shame took days. Daria helped her through it, even coming up to Jane抯 room to confront her and bring her out of hiding. Daria was the best of friends, even better than Jane had made her. Still, Jane regretted saying that Tommy might not live long. It was the closest she had ever come to confessing to her powers and deeds, and she didn抰 want to confide that even to her own creations. 揑 don抰 like it when I say people should die and then they do,?she told Daria afterward. 揑 don抰 want that kind of responsibility梐t least not until I抳e got a job in middle management.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?She covered herself well on the outside. Inside was another matter. Dread clung to her long afterward. Her maternal grandmother was very upset when she found out, but she did not stop talking to Jane. Jane抯 relief was palpable. Grandma J alone understood the real Jane Lane. Grandma J knew what it was like to create a private world, an island of flexible reality, and visit it when you wished. Grandma J had done it herself, like her mother before her and her eldest daughter after. Everyone in the whole world knew about it. They didn抰 know that the story was true, though. Jane did. The only difference was, Jane didn抰 have to fly to reach her Neverland. Her Neverland was right where she lived.
牋牋牋牋牋?Tommy Sherman was buried later that week. A new goalpost was erected in his honor, and a memorial tree was planted by the school in his name. Jane allowed it in order to remind herself to never kill again. She even made herself go one evening to the grassy meadow covering Lawndale抯 landfill, where the air reeked of rotten eggs from the methane, and there she remembered the evening a few years ago when she had been out by herself, far from home, and a stranger tried to grab her, chasing her to the landfill and cornering her in a gazebo in someone抯 backyard. He ran up to attack her, and that was when she killed him. She first wished he would stop moving. He stopped in place, paralyzed. She then climbed over the railing and wished he would go away forever, and the gazebo sank into the earth as the stranger抯 eyes rolled in their sockets in terror. The ground closed over the gazebo and the stranger, and they were gone.
牋牋牋牋牋?She never did know his name. He was the first. Tommy was the second. She did not want a third on her conscience.
牋牋牋牋牋?As a consequence of that night, Jane began to explore her power and wish for other things. Lawndale was soon more than her home. It was her fief, her fortress, her quasi-real universe. It was often hard to get her wishes to come out properly, and she had to unwish certain things that didn抰 work, but all that wishing and unwishing damaged the fabric of the local reality. Strange events multiplied, and the tapestry of her life became peculiar and colorful. Yet, crazy as things sometimes got, no one ever noticed the weirdness but her. She had wished it that way. Such as it was, life went on.
牋牋牋牋牋?What is real? The answer depends on one抯 perspective.
牋牋牋牋牋?In the infinite, unbounded realm of the cosmos, Jane Lane was insignificant.
牋牋牋牋牋?In the tiny subdivision of reality called Earth, however, in the tiny portion of it known as Lawndale, Jane Lane was God Almighty.
* * *
牋牋牋牋牋?Godlike as she was locally, Jane抯 supernatural control over Lawndale was not absolute. At best her manipulations were effective but crude; at worst, they brought on chaos. An element of the unpredictable was always present when she or Daria were around. Odd things happened every day, minor but annoying glitches in the continuity of existence. These happenings seemed to be the aftershocks of Jane抯 tinkering with the way things were. The bigger the changes made, the more pronounced the aftershocks.
牋牋牋牋牋?The biggest changes to Lawndale began when Daria and her family appeared, the day after Jane wished with all her heart, once again, that she had a best friend. Despite her previous failures (Andrea, Brittany, Jodie, etc.), this time it worked. Nothing was the same after that, and reality let her know. For example, the black tights Jane wore over her legs sometimes vanished for minutes at a time梬hy the tights but nothing else, she never knew. The collar of her black T-shirt might turn gray, white or black. Her boot laces might disappear, and the rolled-up sleeves of her bright red overshirt were rarely the same length from one day to the next.
牋牋牋牋牋?In addition, her black bangs might grow shorter or longer, the part in her hair might change sides, the three silver rings in each pierced ear might be whisked away or change sizes, and her irises might go from bright blue to gray or black. If her hair was mussed, red lipstick forgotten, and her clothes rumpled, she could return to her usual groomed appearance in an instant. Her voice even changed over time, long after puberty.
牋牋牋牋牋?That Jane and Daria梐nd most inhabitants of Lawndale, for that matter梐lmost always wore the same clothing nearly every single day did not strike Jane as unusual. She liked wearing the same thing most of the time. The interesting part of life was the part inside, not outside梬hat went on behind the scene, not the scene itself梐nd her world tended to reflect her beliefs.
牋牋牋牋牋?Glitches in reality also extended to Jane抯 environment. Mirrors sometimes failed to reverse images or showed only a few of the objects before them. Jane抯 food might reappear whole after she had consumed it, or vanish before she ate it. Books and writing, dinnerware, furniture, cars, and whole buildings (and sometimes even Lawndale itself) randomly moved from one spot to another, changed colors or shapes, disappeared and reappeared, or morphed into other things entirely. The high school was redesigned several times. People were more consistent, but they, too, disappeared, reappeared, and teleported about. Once in a while, a person was in two places at the same time. Clothes, hair styles, hair color, even faces and voices changed at random. Even the tattoos and goatee of her older brother Trent came and went.
牋牋牋牋牋?The inside of the Lane home was subject to occasional tweaks, particularly in Jane抯 bedroom, which had closets of varying sizes and contents, plus a queen-size or king-size bed. However, the Morgendorffer home, created whole from an unsold suburban lot, was as inconstant as a non-Euclidian lava lamp. The Morgendorffers?abode had (sometimes) a basement, an attic, a dining room, a spare bedroom, a garage door from the kitchen, and extra closets. Furniture was hardly the same each time Jane entered, floors changed color and countertops changed height, and even the room-to-room layout warped at whim. Walking in the front door was an adventure in itself.
牋牋牋牋牋?Random spatial distortions were widespread, shortening or lengthening all distances in Lawndale. Walking anywhere in town was usually a breeze. A bit troubling was the gremlin that occasionally made you walk or drive past the same buildings or features two or more times before you actually got past them, rather like running with Alice and the Red Queen in the land beyond the looking glass. Jane got annoyed when she had to walk through a door more than once to get into a room, but that was how it went some days. Playing god had a price.
牋牋牋牋牋?Temporal distortions occurred, too, worsening with ever-greater alterations to reality. Clocks froze in place, lost their hands, or ran backwards. Calendars showed the same date for many weeks in a row. Football season never ended, and the weather was almost always mild and sunny. Most curious of all was the way the current year itself became indistinct. Jane knew she lived in the late 1990s, probably in 1997 or thereabouts, but part of her memory became blurred beyond that. She had first used her powers in 1994, and she was sixteen, midway through her sophomore year梑ut in what year had she been born, and in what month, on what day? And why couldn抰 she remember?
牋牋牋牋牋?Was Lawndale itself real? Jane was pretty sure it was, most of it. The giant strawberry was real, as she remembered it from childhood. The malls she was less sure of, and where the Interstate was she rarely knew. Some parts of town seemed to grow out of the ground overnight, and some parts existed but had no fixed location. That didn抰 bother her. She had a long-held belief that Lawndale was a suburb of a major American city, but which city was less certain; Baltimore was possible, depending on each day抯 events. There was that odd nearby desert, of course, and the mountains, and so on.
牋牋牋牋牋?As Billy Pilgrim would say, so it goes. Jane liked to be entertained, and the unpredictable kept her in pleasant anticipation. And, no matter what happened, she always had her best friend, the best that anyone could ever imagine.
牋牋牋牋牋?And she had the music. Jane抯 musical tastes were much influenced by her brother Trent, and she often had alternative songs playing in the background of her life no matter what she was doing. Green Day, Tool, Nirvana, Garbage, Foo Fighters, Radiohead梥he didn抰 need a CD player or radio. She just thought the music into being and went with it. No one else heard it, so no one complained about the volume. Music sometimes came into being on its own, with an ironic tweak. The Beastie Boys played when Tommy Sherman died, for instance, and she couldn抰 listen to them again for months thereafter.
牋牋牋牋牋?Playing God wasn抰 half bad. Believing that you were God, however, could be a problem. Even Jane knew that梥ometimes.
* * *
牋牋牋牋牋?The first time Jane saw Daria Morgendorffer was in Mr. DeMartino抯 American History class, shortly after the start of her sophomore year in high school. The diminutive brunette in the front row flawlessly answered every question put to her, her cynicism and her command of facts both well up to Jane抯 own personal and intellectual standards. A natural sponge for information, Jane knew lots of stuff, but she wasn抰 interested in interacting with others to share it. She had good reasons not to trust those around her. Daria, though, talked as if she were just like Jane梬hich, in a manner of speaking, she was梐nd drew Jane抯 attention in class like a nail to an electromagnet.
牋牋牋牋牋?Is she my future best friend? Is she the one I wished for? The question nagged Jane unmercifully. She wasn抰 brave enough to approach Daria at first, preferring to wait and watch. Previous failures had put her off. (Jodie was so close.) Then Jane learned that Daria had been involuntarily assigned to attend a self-esteem class after school. Jane stayed late that day and made sure she was there, too, though she wasn抰 signed up for the class. The all-too-sensitive teacher, an unconscious creation of Jane抯 like so many of the incompetents and morons who populated the high school, did not notice Jane抯 unannounced presence. She could stay out late that night, too. Her unreliable parents were gone on separate globe-trotting trips, and Trent had been away the night before on a band gig and would probably sleep until the evening. No one would miss her.
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria seemed irked to be stuck in the self-esteem class. She sketched a stick-figure picture of the teacher as the Stinky Cheese Man, one of Jane抯 childhood favorite books梞ore proof that she was the one Jane sought (not to mention complementing Jane抯 interest in art). After an irritable exchange with the teacher over the meaning of one of his New Age catch-phrases, Daria made a disgusted noise and leaned back in her chair梐nd Jane, sitting right behind her, spoke up. She wasn抰 worried the teacher would hear her. He was on autopilot, and Jane had pulled a privacy bubble around her because some of the other students might be real. The minor warp caused the eyeglass lenses of the student to Jane抯 left to turn from dark to clear, but he didn抰 seem to mind.
牋牋牋牋牋?揌e doesn抰 know what it means,?Jane said in a conversational tone to Daria, referring to the catch-phrase in question. 揌e抯 got the speech memorized. Just enjoy the nice man抯 soothing voice.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria turned halfway around in her seat as the teacher continued his spiel. 揌ow am I supposed to follow him if I don抰 know what he抯 talking about??she said.
牋牋牋牋牋?Please be the one I抳e been waiting for. 揑 can fill you in later,?Jane replied. 揑抳e taken this course six times.?That last part was a lie, as Jane had never been near the class, but that was unimportant. They suffered through to the end, then walked home as Offspring抯 揑 Choose?played around them: What a nightmare come true / Or a playground if we choose / And I choose.
牋牋牋牋牋?揝o, then, after the role-playing, next class they put the girls and the guys in separate rooms and a female counselor talks to us about body image.?Jane knew all about the class syllabus from overhearing other kids talk about it.
牋牋牋牋牋?揥hat do they talk to the boys about??asked Daria.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane smirked. 揂 classroom full of guys and a male teacher??She came to a stop. Daria stopped, too, and they said in unison, 揘octurnal emissions.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?For a fraction of a second, Jane stared at Daria in wonder. It was the first time anyone had ever said exactly what was in her mind, serious or silly. They continued on their way, discussing the class on the way to Jane抯 place, intending to hang out there for a while until Daria had to go home for the evening.
牋牋牋牋牋?They passed Schlo?/span> Morgendorffer on their way to Casa Lane. The two-story, red-brick structure was unfamiliar. Wasn抰 that where the vacant lot used to be? 揥here did you live before you moved here??Jane asked.
牋牋牋牋牋?揌ighland, in west Texas,?said Daria after a moment of hesitation. 揑 had hopes that Lawndale was a step up on the evolutionary scale, but I抳e learned to live with disappointment.?She then regaled Jane with stories of her adventures at her old high school and the 搃nteresting idiots?who were her classmates and teachers. Daria抯 younger sister Quinn was ranked high among them.
牋牋牋牋牋?They got to Jane抯 home just in time to save it from being repossessed, because Jane抯 wayfaring parents had forgotten to mail in the mortgage payments. (Jane made a feeble effort to barricade the house, then gave up and wished the problem away for a few months longer.) While Daria visited the bathroom, Jane checked an atlas and a collection of western United States maps left by her vagabond older sister, Penny. There was no significant place called Highland anywhere in Texas. A search engine on the Internet revealed several minor Highlands, none of which matched Daria抯 description. The Highland, Texas, that Daria claimed to hail from did not exist.
牋牋牋牋牋?The verdict was in: Daria was indeed Jane抯 fresh-out-of-the-magical-bakery best friend. Jane knew she was alone no more. Someone of an existential bend might have questioned that: if Daria was merely a simulacrum of Jane, born of her subconscious by a conscious wish, wasn抰 Jane still alone? Jane was fortunately not inclined to serious existential philosophizing. Her last day of solitude had come. The outcast duo was born.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane抯 slacker brother Trent woke up from his snooze to visit the bathroom and ran into Daria on the way there. It became clear after watching them together that Daria was attracted to the tattooed, twenty-something Trent, which pleased Jane enormously even if she had wished that that might happen anyway. Trent was the only member of Jane抯 immediate family that Jane liked, because he stayed home instead of running off and acted like his little sister mattered. A crush would solidify Daria抯 connection with Jane, who did not like leaving important things to chance in her unpredictable world. And if the crush led anywhere else, a best-friend sister-in-law would be welcome, real or not. Jane imagined she might one day build a whole new family in this way, to replace the family that had gone off and left her, the youngest, to fend for herself. Too bad Trent fell asleep in the middle of talking with Daria, but at least it was a promising start.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane and Daria were seen everywhere together after that. Daria even met Jane at her front door in the mornings so they could share a walk to school, though Daria had to walk an extra few blocks to do it. The reality glitches swiftly began to multiply. Fellow students teleported around the hallways or at parties that the two attended. Clocks ceased to keep the proper time. The bridge in Daria抯 glasses vanished now and then, though the two halves of her glasses stayed on her nose. Jane smiled and said nothing. The fall and winter of that year remained warm and sunny; the trees stayed green. Jane brushed it off. Everyone in town began wearing the same clothes day in and day out. Jane was content. She made an effort to do more things on her own instead of wishing for them, to keep this pleasant reality stable, but otherwise she paid little attention to the issue.
牋牋牋牋牋?Then came the summerlike morning when Daria did not show up at the front door to chat on their way to school. Trent was up, though, and talking about going to Alternapalooza that weekend with his best friend, Jesse Moreno. Alternapalooza was held every year in mid-August for a three-day weekend. With careful questioning and research (newspaper, television, Internet, Trent), Jane discovered that it was now the summer of the following year, just before she entered eleventh grade at Lawndale High. A stupendous temporal distortion had taken place overnight. It was the recoil from the effort of maintaining Daria抯 existence and deepening her connection to Jane.
牋牋牋牋牋?Having no other option (as wishing a recoil out of existence caused an even bigger mess, which Jane had discovered when she created Brittany), Jane played along. She called Daria and invited her to come over and watch TV while she glued together sculptures from assorted objects she found in her room that her future self must have collected. Jane liked art. It helped her think up new things to do with reality.
牋牋牋牋牋?The art session was interrupted by the cacophony from Trent抯 band, practicing in the basement, and the two girls went downstairs to investigate. Daria抯 crush was still intact, one thing led to another, and that weekend Jane, Trent, Jesse, and Daria headed for the concert in a borrowed van. None of them had the $75-per-person admission fee required, but the van broke down on the way so it didn抰 matter. Wearing lipstick for the first time, a blushing Daria spent some personal time with Trent and kept the crush burning. Trent抯 tattoos and goatee vanished and reappeared, the numbers on the van抯 license plate changed, the windows on the van opened when they couldn抰 be opened, et cetera. Jane secretly beamed as she fixed the engine so they could get to the concert梬hich had already ended, to their surprise. Jane抯 music played all around them anyway. All was right with the world.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane slept on the living room couch that night for the hell of it and woke up the next morning to a knock at the front door. It was Daria with her backpack on. 揂ren抰 you going to school today??she asked, eyeing Jane抯 half-dressed and disheveled condition. Reality had snapped back into place. They were sophomores again.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane shook her head and went upstairs to shower and dress while Daria waited. A little chaos now and then was okay, but this was not good. She knew she was going to have to cut back on her reality tweaks, or else she抎 have no semblance of temporal or spatial order whatsoever梐nd her best friend might become a casualty of the next reality recoil. She buckled down and put an end to her wishes.
牋牋牋牋牋?It was a good thing she kept to her vow, as another stressor surfaced within days: her father called from Argentina and asked Jane and Trent to attend the Lane Family Reunion that weekend, being held at his mother抯 home in Sloatstown in the great American Midwest. Her father抯 family (all of them real) disliked the Lawndale Lanes with marked intensity, far more than the same family members disliked each other, but her father explained in a reasonable fashion that Jane and Trent, being the youngest, might be accepted, whereas their parents and three oldest siblings had long ago worn out their reunion welcome. Plus, none of the other Lawndale Lanes were available or willing to go. Jane might have begged off, but Daria was being involuntarily taken away on a family camping trip that weekend, so there was no point in staying.
牋牋牋牋牋?Money for the tickets was wired, and Jane and Trent did as they were asked. Mindful of the recent temporal spasm, and unsure if she would be able to alter reality to any extent outside the confines of Lawndale, Jane behaved herself as best she could when she and Trent arrived in Sloatstown Friday afternoon. She held out hope that someone in her extended family other than Grandma J would love her for who she was.
牋牋牋牋牋?The hope was in vain.
牋牋牋牋牋?揥hat the hell is wrong with you??shouted Grandma Lane that night in front of everyone. 揧ou act like a damn mental case, you抮e wasting your life on your damn art?i style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>what the hell is wrong with you, Janey??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?No one said a word in Jane抯 defense. Her cousins even laughed. Jane considered causing a volcano to erupt under the reunion site, but that would upset her father, and there was still a tiny hope left in her that her parents might come to their senses one day and prove that they loved her, instead of mouthing the words before they ran off to the ends of the earth for weeks at a time. Jane and Trent fled the reunion the following day in a rental car belonging to a bad-tempered aunt, none too soon for her tastes.
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria returned to Lawndale thereafter with a fantastic story about her family going insane from eating toxic berries, which sounded like Jane抯 reunion story in a way. It was curious how both their families went completely off the tracks at the same time. Perhaps, Jane reflected later, it wasn抰 really a coincidence at all. Daria and Jane now shared a powerful psychic connection. Their lives were more similar than not, despite surface differences. If they shared the same thoughts, they could share separate but similar life experiences, too. It made sense, kind of.
牋牋牋牋牋?Reduced to her last nerve, Jane returned to school. The student photo sets from Picture Day came back a week later, spoiling her recovery. She had ordered none, since no one she knew wanted a picture of her; she and Daria were content with seeing each other in person. It still bothered her to see other students trade photos in the hallways. Shallow idiots, she thought, depressed that no one would ask for hers, even if she had none to give. She went home in a funk. The next day, when she and Daria got to school, they found a long yellow banner hanging above the school抯 front entrance. As Jane and Daria got closer, they could read the blue lettering on it.
LAWNDALE HIGH WELCOMES BACK
TOMMY SHERMAN
牋牋牋牋牋?And everything went straight to hell.
* * *
牋牋牋牋牋?The beginning of a tale, however, is not always the real beginning.
* * *
牋牋牋牋牋?The old woman stood alone outside the front door of 111 Howard Drive when Jane Lane answered it. The woman looked vaguely familiar; there was something about her face that reminded Jane of her mother. Jane, four years old, filthy and barefoot and clad in bright green shorts and a dirty T-shirt, looked up with innocent interest, one hand on the doorknob.
牋牋牋牋牋?The old lady smiled down at her, though she appeared distressed when she saw Jane抯 scruffy condition. The lady抯 long white hair was put up in a bun. She had brilliant blue eyes like Jane抯, surrounded by wrinkles, and a modest gray dress nice enough to wear to church梐 well-to-do sort of person she was, not like the Lanes of Lawndale.
牋牋牋牋牋?揧ou must be Jane,?the old lady said. Her pleasant accent made her sound educated and worldly.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane nodded, looking her over. 揥ho are you??she said.
牋牋牋牋牋?The old lady seemed anxious about responding. 揥ell, pet . . .?She took a breath and plunged on. 揑 am your mother抯 mother, your grandmother. I was passing through and wanted to stop by and . . . and, well, say hello. Hello! Is anyone else home??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane shook her head no. She had never thought of her mother as having a mother, as her mother never spoke of the rest of her family. The only grandmother she knew was her father抯 mother, who lived far away. That grandmother did not care for Jane.
牋牋牋牋牋?揘o one抯 at home??The old lady seemed stunned. 揘o one at all??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?A smaller shake of the head.
牋牋牋牋牋?揂re your brothers or sisters around??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揟rent,?said Jane. 揌e抯 in back, in his tent.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揟rent, yes, I remember him. An interesting lad. What抯 he doing in a tent??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揌e lives there.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?The old lady frowned, unsure if she had heard that clearly. 揌e doesn抰 really live there, does he? Doesn抰 he have a room of his own??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane was unsure whether to nod yes or shake her head no. 揌e lives there,?she repeated. 揑 make sandwiches for him. He likes peanut butter and banana.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揌ow old is Trent now??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揟en.?Jane抯 face lit up. 揧ou know how old I am??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揘o. How old??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揊our. Yesterday I was three. Today抯 my birthday, and I抦 four.?br> 牋牋牋牋牋?揑t抯 your birthday? Are you going to have a birthday party today??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane抯 face fell. 揑 don抰 know.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?The old lady raised her head and looked past Jane into the ill-kept house. Dirty clothes, old cat food, wet towels, sheets of newspaper, rags, spilled cereal, small dried-up jars of watercolors, and used tissues were everywhere in sight on the floor.
牋牋牋牋牋?揗ay I come in??the old lady asked.
牋牋牋牋牋?揙kay.?Jane left the door open and led the way back into the house.
牋牋牋牋牋?The old woman closed the door and followed Jane to the kitchen, where Jane climbed into a chair and went back to work spreading peanut butter on a slice of stale white bread. Flies were everywhere. The garbage had not been taken out in at least two weeks, and it stank to heaven. Crumbs, dried-up soup spills, cat litter, moldy oranges, and fragments of a broken glass were scattered across the tile floor.
牋牋牋牋牋?揙h, my God,?said the old lady, putting her purse down on the table. She looked around the room in horror.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane finished the peanut butter part of the sandwich. The old lady抯 concern made her nervous. Is she mad at me for making some of this mess? 揑 have to put the banana on now,?she said, pretending nothing was wrong as she reached for a foot-long butcher knife and a blackened banana.
牋牋牋牋牋?揥ait!?cried the old lady. She took the knife away and put it on a shelf. 揧ou should be very careful. Knives are sharp.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 know,?said Jane. She looked at her left hand and held it up. 揝ee, I cut myself. Trent put the band-aid on. I cried, but not too much.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Appalled, the old lady reached down. Jane let herself be picked up and carried though she wasn抰 that small. The old lady was stronger than she looked. Carrying Jane, she went through the house, room by room, calling for Penny, Summer, Wind, and Jane抯 parents, Amanda and Vincent. No one answered but the echoes. 揥here did they go??she asked at last.
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 don抰 know. Penny went out but she said she抎 be back. Trent抯 watching me.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揥hen did she leave??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揧esterday.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?The old lady cupped a hand around the back of Jane抯 head and pulled her close, so Jane抯 head rested on her shoulder. The old lady smelled like garden flowers.
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 haven抰 been in this house for . . . it抯 been eight years,?the old lady murmured. 揟rent was here with your older sisters, Penny and Summer. Your mother and father were far away then, too. You know where I live??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揗mm-mmm.?Jane liked the sound of her grandmother抯 voice.
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 live in New York City,?said the old lady. 揗y mother lived in London, England. That抯 a very grand city that抯 across the Atlantic Ocean. My mother lived in London until she passed on some years ago. Did your mother ever tell you about my mother? She was your great-grandmother.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揘o.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揙h.?The old lady sighed. 揑 was afraid of that. I had hoped she would, but . . . your mother and I don抰 . . . well, it抯 complicated. Does your mother ever tell you stories? Faerie tales??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揘o.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揙h, dear. Does she tell you any stories at all??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揟rent tells me stories about what happened in school. He knows a lot. He wants to be in a rock-and-roll band.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揥hat do you do at home when no one抯 around??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揢m . . . watch TV.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揟oo much TV isn抰 good for young minds.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 like it. It抯 good for me.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揥ould you like for me to tell you a story??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揙kay.?Jane relaxed against her grandmother. She was very comfortable.
牋牋牋牋牋?The old lady抯 footsteps paced slowly through the house, across time and space. 揗y story is about a young girl,?she said, 揳 girl who had two younger brothers. She was the oldest of the lot. They lived with their parents in London, almost a hundred years ago, and this is about the time that the little girl created a special place where she would棓
牋牋牋牋牋?揟rent!?said Jane, sitting up in her grandmother抯 arms. 揑 have to make his lunch!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揋oodness. I抣l help take care of Trent.?The old lady walked back to the kitchen, to a window looking out into the backyard. Next to a gazebo was a worn pup tent surrounded by toys and cassette tapes. 揑s Trent out there??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揌e lives there. He said that was his home.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑t looks like he does live there, yes. Why does he live out there??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?搼Cause he wants to.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揃ut doesn抰 your mother make him . . . oh, never mind.?The old lady sighed and put Jane down. She walked over to her knit handbag, which was as gray as her dress, and she opened it, pulled out a thick, fresh sandwich. She put it in a small paper sack that also came out of her purse, then folded the top of the sack over and handed it to Jane. 揟ake this out to Trent. Be careful where you step.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揙kay.?Jane hurried out the half-open back door, looking back to make sure her grandmother did not disappear. She ran back a few seconds later.
牋牋牋牋牋?揇id he like the sandwich??asked the old lady.
牋牋牋牋牋?揌e抯 asleep,?said Jane. 揑 left it . . . for . . . him.?She became very distracted as she spoke because the kitchen looked so different. It was clean. There was not a speck of dirt anywhere. She thought she had walked by accident into someone else抯 home, but a look around confirmed that the furniture indeed belonged to her family. And the house smelled clean. Jane had never smelled that smell before.
牋牋牋牋牋?揂re you hungry, my pet??said the old lady, opening the refrigerator.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane was on the verge of saying yes, but she was sorry that her grandmother was looking in the refrigerator, because there was nothing there worth eating. The refrigerator door swung open and it had . . . food. And there among the glorious food was a small cake with pink frosting and four lit candles. Jane had never been so surprised in her life.
牋牋牋牋牋?揥hat have we here??said the old lady with an impish smile. She took the cake out and put it on the table. Jane climbed up on a chair and saw with wide eyes that her name was on the cake, with the number 4. The old lady sang the birthday song to Jane, then let her blow out her candles and make a wish. She did not ask Jane what she had wished for. She then cut a slice of cake for Jane and sat with her as she ate.
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 forgot where I was in my story,?said the old lady. 揑 shall have to start over.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揂re you Mary Poppers??asked Jane, her mouth full of cake. She meant 揚(yáng)oppins?but never got it right.
牋牋牋牋牋?揘o, pet, and don抰 talk with your mouth full. It gets crumbs all over. Mary Poppins is make-believe. Alice in Wonderland, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, all those people are make-believe. You know what make-believe is, right? Good. They抮e not real people. You and I, we抮e real people.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揋randma??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揧es??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揂re you magic??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?The old lady hesitated, thinking carefully about her answer. 揧ou might say that,?she said. 揇o you think Trent would like some cake??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揌e抯 asleep,?said Jane. She looked at her cake. 揥e can save some for him.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揕et抯 do that, then. Do you mind if I stay with you for a while? Until someone else comes home, that is.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揧ou can stay here!?shouted Jane, her mouth full of cake again.
牋牋牋牋牋?揗anners, my pet, and thank you. I should like to stay all day with you. I remember your sisters and brothers. My family and I first came to visit your parents here a long time ago, a few years after they moved into this house. I抦 afraid we抳e never quite . . . I don抰 know how to say it. We抳e . . . well, never mind that.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揇idn抰 they like you??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?The old lady sighed. 揑t抯 a long story. Perhaps it can wait for another day. It抯 hard to explain.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揧ou were going to tell me a story.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑ndeed I was. Where was I??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揝tart over.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 shall, my pet.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑抦 not a pet!?Jane said, thinking she was being teased.
牋牋牋牋牋?揧es, dear, I know. When I say 憄et,?I mean it as if I抎 said, 憁y dear?or 憇weetheart.?My mother always called me 憄et.?People do that in England. Do you know what my real name is??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane shook her head, watching her grandmother with great interest.
牋牋牋牋牋?揗y name is Jane, also. You were named for me, I believe, though I don抰 quite know why your mother . . . oh, never mind. Your mother and I haven抰 talked much in recent years. Anyway, I have a daughter, too, but she抯 much older than you. Her name is Margaret. She went to school a long time to study about people. She抯 married now. They have a daughter who抯 older than you. You抳e never met them, which is a shame. I don抰 see them very often, either. I don抰 travel so much these days since my husband died. It抯 not the same without him.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑s this the story, Grandma??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揘ot yet. I was explaining things first, though my mind wandered. Anyway, the story is about my mother, your great-grandmother. She抯 not with us anymore, but she was very famous. You might have heard of her. She wanted everyone to know about her adventures, so she . . . she arranged to have a book written about her. It抯 a true story, most of it, though people don抰 think it is. You probably know the tale already.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane shook her head no. She was done with her slice of cake and had pink frosting all over her face and hands. Her grandmother cleaned her up just in time to answer another knock at the front door. Jane ran to answer it, expecting tall, red-haired Penny.
牋牋牋牋牋?Instead, at the door was a chimpanzee on a red tricycle. Helium-filled balloons were tied to the trike抯 handlebars. The chimp pedaled into the house, circled the clean and orderly living room, then pulled a birthday card from inside his coveralls and handed it to round-eyed little Jane before pedaling off to crash into a wall and fall over on his back. He lay on the floor as if unconscious, a hand clamped over his eyes.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane抯 grandmother put her hands on her hips. 揑 don抰 know what I am to do with you, Darwin,?she said, looking at the ape with mock disapproval.
牋牋牋牋牋?The chimp grinned at her, then climbed on the trike again and rode around the house once more. Jane followed in speechless amazement. The chimp soon dismounted, produced a pack of cards, and the three of them played a few hands of Go Fish on the kitchen table. They then played hide and go seek, but everywhere Jane hid, she discovered a birthday present for her. Soon she had four of them: a new watercolor set, a plush chimpanzee doll with red coveralls like Darwin抯, a bag of assorted candies, and a picture book of a children抯 story Jane had never heard of. The picture book had her great-grandmother抯 name in it, with pictures of her, and the last chapter even had Grandma J抯 name, and her Aunt Margaret抯 name, whom she had never seen.
牋牋牋牋牋?Darwin then shook hands with Jane and her grandmother, mounted his trike, and rode out the front door, which closed behind him as if pushed by the wind. Jane ran over and opened the door again, but Darwin had disappeared. Magic. Jane was sure of it.
牋牋牋牋牋?Grandma J, her name selected by mutual consent to distinguish her from the smaller Jane, checked on Trent and satisfied herself that he was safe. She then showed little Jane how to safely make different lunches for Trent without using sharp knives. She checked Jane抯 bandaged cut, carefully cleaned it up, and re-bandaged it. And, with an understanding unusual for an adult in Jane抯 experience, she talked about life and the world with an easy confidence that gave Jane the security she had craved for ages.
牋牋牋牋牋?揧ou抮e Mary Poppers,?said Jane before she went to sleep that night.
牋牋牋牋牋?Her grandmother sat on the bed next to her. 揘o, my pet. I抦 not make-believe.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 liked that story you told, about great-grandma. Did she really do all of that? Did she really fly and fight pirates??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揧es, she did, and so did I when my time came. I抣l tell you a secret, though梕ven though we grew up, we never lost the power we had to build our own worlds and hide them away from everyone else. The power passes from mother to daughter only. The book doesn抰 tell about that, because it抯 our secret only.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揅an Mom do that, too? Can she fly and make worlds??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Grandma J looked down, her face filled with sadness. 揘o, dear,?she said. 揧our mother . . . she did things to herself when she was young that took away her powers. I don抰 know how to explain it to you. You抮e too young to know what I mean. I think your sisters Summer and Penny did the same things, because none of them went to Neverland, either, though they could have. If you take good care of yourself, you should be able to do what they could never do. Please promise me you抣l take care of yourself. Will you do that for me??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揧es!?Jane cried, but she wasn抰 entirely sure what Grandma meant. Did her mother hit herself in the head? What was this all about?
牋牋牋牋牋?揑抣l tell you another secret,?said Grandma J. 揧our great-grandmother抯 real name was actually Gwendydd棓 Grandma J pronounced it gwen-deeth 摋which is Welsh. She liked the shorter version of her name better, but her real name when she was a girl was Gwendydd Moira Angela Darling.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揙h, that抯 a long name!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揧es, it was. I抦 rather fond of being called Jane, aren抰 you??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揧eah!?Jane smiled, but her smile faded. 揟hank you for making Trent come in. He was outside for a long time, weeks and weeks.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揌e only wanted someone to invite him back in, I think. He wanted someone to care that much about him. That抯 all.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 care about him!?Jane said.
牋牋牋牋牋?揥e both do. That made him very happy, that you cared so much about him to make his sandwiches. He always liked what you made, because you made it with love.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?The old lady leaned down and kissed Jane on the forehead, then began to get up. 揃edtime, sweet.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揘o, wait!?cried Jane in a panic, and she sat up. 揟ell me another story!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑t抯 very late, dear. I can抰 keep you up much longer.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揚(yáng)lease? One more story??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?The old woman sighed, then sat beside her granddaughter again. Jane clutched her hand. 揚(yáng)lease stay!?she said, her voice breaking.
牋牋牋牋牋?揂re you afraid I抣l go away again while you抮e asleep??Grandma J whispered.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane bit her lower lip and nodded. Her eyes teared up.
牋牋牋牋牋?揥ell, I won抰. I intend to stay here a while. I抣l sit with you for now, until you go to sleep. Do you mind if I hum? I抦 afraid I have a dreadful voice for singing.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揙kay.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Her grandmother hummed a few children抯 songs that Jane knew. Jane hummed with her, became drowsy, then woke up the next morning and found her grandmother was gone. She ran through the house crying, searching for her梐nd found Grandma J in the spotless kitchen with a sleepy-looking Trent, making breakfast.
牋牋牋牋牋?揑抦 not much of a morning person,?said Grandma J, covering a yawn as she calmed Jane with a long hug. 揘one of us are, but we抣l do the best we can, won抰 we? Now, do you want maple syrup on your pancakes??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Life continued in this heavenly state for three more days. The Lane home had never looked so good or felt so much like a real home. Even Trent looked better, though he was gone a lot visiting his friends. And then Jane抯 mother came home from Alaska. And there was a fight.
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 don抰 ever want to see you around my children!?Amanda shouted at her mother, not at all her usual carefree self. 揓ust get out! I抳e got a restraining order, and you know it! Get on your broom or whatever it is you do, and get out!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Grandma J left quickly. She had only her purse to carry. Jane ran out of the house after her in a panic. Oddly, her mother did not try to stop her, merely standing outside the house in the yard and watching. 揇on抰 leave!?Jane sobbed.
牋牋牋牋牋?Grandma J turned and knelt down to give Jane a final long hug. 揑 have to go,?she whispered in Jane抯 ear, 揵ut I am not leaving you. The gift my mother gave me, which I gave to my daughter, and my daughter to her daughter, was also given to you. If you need me, I will be there for you in your dreams. Trust me. I will always be there for you. Now, go back to your mother and be brave. You抮e my wonderful girl.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?She cried all the more, but Jane went back. Her mother ignored her at first, scowling over Jane抯 head in the direction her mother had gone.
牋牋牋牋牋?揊aerie tales,?said her mother at last. 揟hose damned stories. They were all lies. She and Margaret lied to me. They never did all the things they said they did. No one ever came to take me anywhere special, no one but Mary Jane and Jack Daniels.?Her face began to relax. 揈veryone grows up,?she said to herself. 揧ou can抰 live in faerie tales all your life. Everyone grows up, just like a butterfly. You can抰 hold a butterfly for long, or it will die. You have to let it go. You have to stop pretending you can fly to Neverland, and move on. It was all pretend anyway. It was never real.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane went into the house with her mother. Her mother went straight to the living room, took several twisted cigarettes out of a drawer, and proceeded to light and smoke them until she fell asleep on the floor next to the coffee table. Jane was accustomed to the scent of the smoke, but it made her light-headed. She went to her own room and shut the door. The house would get messy again soon, she knew. It depressed her to think about it. The house would never be clean again.
牋牋牋牋牋?Penny came home that evening and smoked some of the same twisted cigarettes her mother did. They drank some wine, talked about nothing, and ordered out for Chinese. Jane and Trent got the leftovers. Some of the food fell on the living room floor, but no one cleaned it up. Amanda talked a great deal about letting butterflies go, but she never again mentioned her mother抯 visit. Jane hid all of her birthday presents in her room and her memories in her heart. She never mentioned her grandmother again to anyone, not even Trent.
牋牋牋牋牋?Her grandmother did return in her dreams, however. Grandma J had told the truth about that. She told Jane that she herself might one day have the power to create things, to build her own secret world as her great-grandmother, her grandmother, her aunt, and her cousin had done梑ut she would have to be careful. It was not good to let the world she built cross over into the real world very often, or it would make a mess of things. Grandma J did not specify how it worked, but she promised to show Jane what to do.
牋牋牋牋牋?She also warned Jane not to drink or take drugs. If you use drugs too much, she said, it will change you. You won抰 be Jane any longer. It happened to someone I loved. She fell in with a bad crowd and ran away and took so many drugs it damaged her mind, and she抯 never been the same. She could never reach Neverland now. Please don抰 make her mistake. Please be careful.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane knew after a while who Grandma J was talking about.
牋牋牋牋牋?Grandma J visited Jane in her dreams once a week after that. She could not come more often, she said, without causing 損roblems.?When she and Jane were together, they talked, laughed, and held hands. Her grandmother抯 touch felt warm and real, even in the dream. Jane told Grandma J everything, even when she made the man who chased her disappear into the ground with a gazebo. That story worried her grandmother. Jane抯 power was coming onto its own, but it was very strong in her, and she was making changes to the place where she lived, not to a place far away that did not naturally exist.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane抯 thinking began to change, too. Perhaps it was just her turning into a teenager, or perhaps it was a flaw in her genetics, or perhaps it was her mother抯 drug use during pregnancy, or perhaps it was all of that combined with her emerging powers. Jane became a loner, an outcast unattached to those around her. Her emotional expression became flatter, her affect more deadpan; her reactions were often inappropriate or even cruel. She cared less about the larger world and grew apathetic and mocking. She felt that teachers and other students persecuted her unfairly at school, which was only partly true. She became angrier with her family, felt a loss of trust in everyone and everything around her except Grandma J, Trent, and later Daria. Music played that only she could hear. She took ever increasing liberties with the reality of her hometown, creating new places and inhabitants as if she were God. She began to joke to herself that she was God. She began to take those jokes seriously.
牋牋牋牋牋?Grandma J tried from afar to keep tabs on Jane. Strangely, she always seemed to know more about Jane than Jane recalled telling her. How is that possible? Jane wondered. How does she know so much about me? Is she checking up on me with her magic? Am I telling her more than I know I am?
牋牋牋牋牋?When Jane finally told Grandma J about Tommy Sherman, Grandma J did not seem surprised, though she was upset about what happened. She wanted to visit Jane and comfort her, to talk with her about the tragedy in person, but by then Grandma J was in a nursing home, her body undone by age and disease, her powers ebbing. All she could do was beg Jane to be careful and use her powers less often, and tell Jane she was loved, and ask her to pray for guidance and strength. 揥hatever happens,?said her grandmother, 揾ave faith in the future. Everything will turn out for the best in the end.?
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane抯 mother answered a phone call two days after that. Her mother said little into the phone except, 揥hen did this happen??and 揇id she leave a will??The Lane family received some money that was quickly frittered away. Grandma J never appeared in Jane抯 dreams again.
牋牋牋牋牋?The last person who truly understood Jane Lane was gone. Jane grieved in silence for weeks. Daria thought it was another reaction to Tommy Sherman抯 death, and she tried to help. It was not enough. Jane eroded inside, and the erosion picked up speed.
牋牋牋牋牋?Grandma J promised she wouldn抰 leave me,
but she did. I can抰 trust anyone anymore. I can抰 trust anyone. Everyone will
betray me eventually. Life is like a big sit-com, all the laughter fake,
nothing real or deep about it. That抯 all it is, a big lie. That抯 all it is. I
hate the world. I hate my life. I hate everyone.
牋牋牋牋牋?At least I have Daria. I created her.
She will never betray me.
牋牋牋牋牋?Never.
* * *
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane ran until the landscape did not look familiar anymore. Hills, trees, farm houses梥he was out in the countryside, circling the rural edge of Lawndale. Her legs were a blur rocketing over the deserted highway. A roaring wind snapped her hair and clothing. The center lines went by like lightning.
牋牋牋牋牋?A stranger was gaining on her from behind. She did not dare to look back, but she was certain he or it was there. Her speed increased until the wall of wind tore at her and she could barely see through her tears. It was not enough.
牋牋牋牋牋?The world was unraveling around her.
牋牋牋牋牋?Who is behind me? What is it? What was I doing before I came out here? Am I going insane? I can抰 tell what抯 real from what抯 not anymore. I don抰 remember why I started running. Who抯 behind me? Am I in danger? A hurricane howled in her face. Her feet hit the ground over a dozen times a second. What if this isn抰 fast enough? What if that thing behind me is about to?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Panicked, Jane gave a spring, then came down hard on both feet and leaped. She roared away from the earth, her body tilted forward, her head up and arms out to her sides like wings as she climbed into the blue of the sky.
牋牋牋牋牋?Nothing could follow her now.
牋牋牋牋牋?In her relief, she remembered today was Friday. She had been working for the past week after school with children in the pediatric unit of the Cedars of Lawndale Hospital, teaching them arts and crafts. Under her direction, the kids had made voodoo dolls and painted over the murals of happy clowns to create mace-wielding Mongol barbarians. It was her angry fulfillment of an extracurricular task that her Stalinist high-school principal had dreamed up: helping others. Jane forced herself not to use any reality-altering wishes, dealing with the problem in the old-fashioned, time-honored, passive-aggressive way. The pediatric staff did not care for the voodoo dolls or the barbarians, some of whom carried the bloody heads of their victims. Last evening, Jane was made to leave the unit as soon as she reported in. She was done with her extracurricular, and she was proud of it. Screw the principal抯 stupid assignments!
牋牋牋牋牋?At this moment, however, Daria was visiting an old deaf woman in a nursing home, giving companionship when she was supposed to be watching TV in Jane抯 room. Daria was doing good deeds for others. She wasn抰 doing them for Jane.
牋牋牋牋牋?揧ou抮e just getting me back because I went out with Evan and I didn抰 have enough time to be with you twenty-four seven!?said Jane, her voice rising over the howling wind. Trees and pastures swept by below her. 揧ou抮e supposed to understand about boyfriends! If you tried a little harder, you might have a boyfriend yourself! Trent抯 still available, if Monique hasn抰 snagged him! I can抰 make him fall for you like I can make you fall for him, so get on the stick! You抳e got to try! You抮e supposed to prove yourself! And you were supposed to be with me this afternoon! We抮e a team, damn it! You抮e my best friend! Why are you doing this? How can you do things like this without me? Why are you梬hy棓
牋牋牋牋牋?Because she knows about Tommy Sherman, of course. That抯 why she抯 doing these things to distance herself from me. She knows I killed him, and she抯 sticking me with it because she thinks she抯 better than I am. She抯 telling me that she can live without me. She acts like she doesn抰 need me. She knows what I did to Tommy, and she doesn抰 want me as her friend anymore.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane grimaced
and shook it off. She knew that couldn抰 be true梑ut it came back in an instant.
She thinks she抯 better than me. She has
a family, and I don抰, and she has to rub it in. Everything was okay for a
while after Tommy. Then Grandma J died, and weird stuff started happening. Daria
was my lookout the night I defaced the school poster that Principal Li and Mr.
O扤eill took from me and reworked on their own, but she almost screwed up our
escape from the building to Trent抯 car. She wouldn抰 go down that side hallway
past Mrs. Manson抯 office, and we had to take another route and we almost got caught.
I was ticked off for a while when she tried to explain why she did it but
couldn抰. Then she gave up and apologized, and I forgave her. We抎 solved the
mess by ourselves, with a little of her mom抯 help and without wishing for
anything. It was great.
牋牋牋牋牋?And then more stuff started happening. What is it with you, Daria? You didn抰 want to show the world what a vapid shell your sister Quinn is, though we had it all planned out. Instead, you edited the final copy of the movie and made her even more popular than she was before! How could you do that? How could you go against me like that, even after I tried to show you what a waste of space Quinn was?
牋牋牋牋牋?揧ou抮e supposed to be loyal to me! Daria!?she shouted. 揧ou抮e supposed to be my best friend, not anyone else抯!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?I gave you plenty of warnings about what might happen if I got pissed off at you, Daria. I shot you with a paintball gun, which was a little warning, like a joke, then I almost dropped the school library roof on your head, which was a big warning, but you didn抰 get it. I got inside your dreams, made you dream of changing bodies with the Fashion Club, made you dream of dying when you were in the hospital with that love-rash you get when Trent抯 around. And you never had a clue, did you? You never got the hint, never figured it out. What does it take to get inside your head to make your see reality, Daria? What does it take?
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 don抰 want to hurt you, Daria! I don抰! I care about you! If I dared, I might even say I loved you closer than a sister, more than anyone alive, even more than Trent! I do care about you! Stop messing up and do the right thing, all right??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Don抰 screw with me! You抮e getting on my last nerve, and you抳e got nothing like the power I have! I抦 life and death, Daria! You抮e carrying this thing about Tommy Sherman way too far!
牋牋牋牋牋??i style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Daria! Can you hear me? I抳e been testing you! I抳e tested you for weeks! You抳e passed a lot of tests, Daria, but you抳e failed some, too!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?You passed that test with Ted, and you stayed loyal to Trent and to me! You passed that test when you chose to stay at Lawndale instead of going to Grove Hills! And you passed the test and stayed loyal to me when I went out for track and started to see Evan. You stayed with me even when I got a by on that math test. That was a test for you, too! You gave me a lot of grief, though, even when you knew how important it was for me to learn to run fast. You knew that, didn抰 you? Running was all that saved me when I was being chased by that bad man, the one I sank into the landfill, so you had to know! I don抰 remember if I ever told you about it, but you抮e my best friend, so you should know what I do is important! You should know that, damn you! You should know!
牋牋牋牋牋?But at least you passed the birthday test. I
made up a day for my birthday, since I can抰 remember when it is anymore, and you
went out with Trent and got art supplies for me, and you got your navel pierced
for Trent, so you were loyal to us both, but mostly to me. You did the right
thing, and I almost forgave you. You said, 揂nything for Jane,?and I almost
forgave you, Daria! I was that close! Didn抰 you get my warning? Didn抰 you get
my hint about who I really am, what I can do when I get really, really pissed
off? You were working on your short story for O扤eill but having trouble with
it, and I said梐nd you heard it from me!桰 said, What抯 the problem? Take
people you know, and have them do whatever you want. I抎 make them crawl, I
tell you!
CRAWL!
牋牋牋牋牋?How could you miss that, Daria? How could you? You blew me off with an 揈asy, tiger.?I almost zapped you right there, you idiot! Now you抮e reading to an old lady梐 deaf old lady, at that!梐nd I want to know what that抯 all about. What is it with you? What is it?
牋牋牋牋牋?Her rage began to slip. She felt dirty梩he tired, upset, depressed, feeling-bad-inside kind of dirty.
牋牋牋牋牋?I抦 sick of this. Screw it. She doesn抰 want me, and I don抰 want her, either.
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 need a holiday,?said Jane. 揑 need every bloody holiday there is to get a break away from this.?She slowed her flight, then descended until she landed in the middle of Lawndale抯 Village Green. No one noticed her arrival. Pushing her irritation aside, she walked the short distance to her home.
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria, back from the old folks?home, was waiting for her on the front step of the Lane home. 揥ant to watch some TV??she asked, looking hopeful.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane took a deep breath, held it for five seconds, then let it out. 揝ure,?she said in a low voice. 揅ome on up.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria left to go home after an hour, but she soon came back with a wild story. Some of the holidays had taken material form as teenagers and were hiding out in Lawndale. Startled, Jane met them and found that several wanted to form a rock band with Trent. About halfway through the ensuing craziness, Jane wondered how this had come to be, since she didn抰 recall wishing for anything. She抎 merely made a remark about needing holidays. Now the wankers were popping up all over, entering town through a hole in the back of a Chinese restaurant. It was . . . well, crazy. Should I care that none of this makes any sense? Jane wondered. Even Daria noticed things had strayed far from normality, though Jane wondered if Daria was reacting only to Jane抯 thoughts and not her own. Just how independent was Daria of Jane抯 control these days? Daria wasn抰 a robot, but she wasn抰 entirely autonomous, either. How much of Daria was Daria and how much of her was Jane was an uncomfortable mystery.
牋牋牋牋牋?Only after the holiday people were gone did Jane realize that she did not remember the passing of the actual Fourth of July that year, or even the last day of tenth grade. The entire summer between her sophomore and junior years had vanished, except for the out-of-place trip to Alternapalooza. A titanic temporal distortion had wiped out three whole months of vacation time, so Jane and Daria had gone directly into eleventh grade without a rest. Had simply saying that she needed a holiday drained out all the vacations at once, or had this distortion been building for a far longer time? Either possibility was frightening. Was this a problem she should try to fix? She decided not to bother. The less wishing she did, the better.
牋牋牋牋牋?The lack of a summer ticked her off even if the weather was pleasant and warm most of the time, but she held her temper and controlled her paranoia for a brief time, and got involved in things at school while waiting for the lost time to reappear. She ran a dance party as a tribute to Jackson Pollock and made a fair amount of cash doing it, plus hung out with Daria and met a couple of cute guys who turned out to be cousins of a revolting classmate. Then, to show she still liked Daria, she created Val, the idiot editor of a brainless teen magazine, and had the twit torment Daria for fun. On a serious note, to remind Daria that a dreadful punishment could be lurking in her future, she had Daria抯 career aptitude results show she would make a great mortician.
牋牋牋牋牋?I am just like God, aren抰 I? You are so
under my thumb, Daria. I can do anything, anything I want. I could run a
musical in the middle of a hurricane if I wanted.
牋牋牋牋牋?In fact?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?梥he did exactly that. About the time she and Daria were singing a prayer on top of the high school, begging for Lawndale to be blown away in the oncoming storm, Jane began to feel things were totally out of control. It was hard to think clearly; difficult not to think crazy, terrible thoughts; impossible to keep even a fingernail dug into reality.
牋牋牋牋牋?I AM GOD! I CAN DO ANYTHING! ANYTHING!
牋牋牋牋牋?PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP ME!
牋牋牋牋牋?揟oday was strange in extremes, and that抯 put lightly,?Daria said near the end of the insane day, in the midst of a yet another song. She had once again noticed things were out of whack, even though Jane had long ago wished that no one, no one, would notice her alterations to the real world. Was Daria becoming immune to Jane抯 spatial/temporal manipulations? Was Daria becoming a god, too? No, that can抰 be! She was dancing and singing like everyone else, and she抎 never be caught dead doing that梪nless she were trying to trick me.
牋牋牋牋牋?The craziness passed. Dazed, Jane returned home to an unwanted family reunion that put her in an even worse mood than before. Daria let Jane stay with her until the chaos at home passed, but it was only a calm period between storms. More of this insanity is coming, I can feel it. It抯 popping up from my own verbalizations and thoughts, not even from my wishes. I really am God, but I have to be careful. I can抰 just go around wishing for this and that. Reality has to rest, I have to give it a break?/i>
牋牋牋牋牋??i style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>right after I give Daria抯 dad a heart attack. Does she think she break free of my power with impunity?
牋牋牋牋牋?Unreal situations followed. Jane set up another test, to see if Daria梐 nervous, newly licensed driver梬ould get a pile of money and drive a hundred miles through the out-of-place desert near Lawndale, to get Jane and her brother out of jail. She spun a threatening paranoid fantasy involving aliens, Communists, and FBI agents. She had the whole school go on a ship cruise, then allowed the liner to hit a barge and frighten everyone with the possibility of death梬ithout anyone actually drowning.
牋牋牋牋牋?And she wore out.
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria抯 not much of a friend anymore. I抳e had it with her. She抯 okay now and then, but this best-friend relationship isn抰 going anywhere. I don抰 know what抯 gotten into me about her. She抯 not God桰抦 God. She抯 just Daria. She抯 boring. Something has to give.
牋牋牋牋牋?Ignoring Daria at her side, Jane looked around at the evening crowd, at the rock club where Trent抯 band was playing.
牋牋牋牋牋?It抎 be nice if I had a boyfriend.
牋牋牋牋牋?One minute later, she did.
* * *
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane opened her eyes. Dim light filtered through the thick maroon sheet hung over her bedroom window, heralding the morning. Another day, another bout with higher education. If I抦 God, why do I even go to school? Grandma J told me I had to do it, no matter what. And Trent still wants me to go, as if graduating would do anything for me now. I should give it up, though. Grandma J抯 gone, and Trent抯 away a lot. I抳e wasted my time hiding my powers. I should be what I am, screw what anyone thinks of it梐s if it would really matter what anyone else thought. This play-acting is getting old.
牋牋牋牋牋?She rolled over to get out of bed, but hesitated for a handful of seconds. Her intuition awoke and murmured: Something is wrong. The wrongness was in the nature of her local universe, to which she had become finely attuned of late. She could not dismiss her premonition and so accepted it: something was wrong. Time would tell what it was. Pushing the matter aside, she showered, dressed, and had a quick breakfast before Daria knocked on her door for their regular walk to school.
?/span>牋牋牋牋牋 No such knock came. The silence grew; Jane opened the front door and looked out. No Daria. Nor, said her intuition, would Daria be along in a few minutes. Something was very wrong, and Daria was its core.
牋牋牋牋牋?To her surprise, Jane realized that she was not surprised. She had half expected this day would come. After waiting a little longer, she got her books and left for school on foot, to have time to consider her options. Outwardly she was calm, cool, and collected. Her stride was quick and purposeful. Inwardly, her thinking was clearer than it had ever been before, or so it seemed.
牋牋牋牋牋?So, that抯 how she wants it. She promised me
last night she wasn抰 going to go out with Tom, she swore she didn抰 want to
have anything to do with my boyfriend. Now she抯 not here, which could only
mean she feels too guilty to see me, which could only mean she and Tom have
hooked up, and she抯 going nuts trying to think of the right thing to say and do
when she sees me. He must have picked her up in that junk heap of a car and put
the moves on her, told her I was doing crazy things, then tried to talk about
the two of them as a couple. She probably resisted at first, told him off, then
she抎 be vulnerable and forget herself for an instant梐nd go under like the Titanic.
She抯 wanted him for the longest time. He抯 wanted her, too. I should have
watched her after she left the house yesterday, but I decided to let things go
where they would without my help. No sense in beating myself up over it. That抯
how she wants it, and that抯 how she抣l get it.
牋牋牋牋牋?Will I be a lady or a tiger at first?
A lady, I think, when she confesses. I know her better than I know the back of
my hand. She抣l spill her guts when she sees me, tell me her sins in the hope
that she can clear her conscience and get the bad stuff over with. She抣l take
the blame and owe up to everything. I抣l listen. And then . . .
牋牋牋牋牋?Exploding eyeballs? It looked pretty
cool on the movie screen梞ight be cooler but messier in real life. I抣l see for
myself. After that, the real tiger: my claws raking down her front, throwing
her wide open so she spills her guts a second time, literally out on the nicely
polished floor. I抣l watch her thrash about at my feet in a spreading lake of
red, flailing and screaming梑ut she won抰 die then. Not right then. Not until
I抳e fed.
牋牋牋牋牋?That will be the closing act of a
long, sad play. Vengeance will be mine. Afterward . . .
牋牋牋牋牋?Tom? She made a face. He, his home, and his family will
spontaneously combust at my command and be ashes in seconds. He抯 unworthy of prolonged
attention. Then, Lawndale? Burn it to the ground, too? Look for a new home? Rule
the Earth as is my destiny? Create a new world? Decisions, decisions. I can do
anything except make up my mind. Luckily, I抳e got all the time in the
world梐nd all the world, too.
牋牋牋牋牋?One last day of school first梐nd settling accounts with the traitor. About time.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane grimaced at the thought. The last few months had been tense. With the appearance of Jane抯 created boyfriend, Tom, poor Daria had been a study in anger, jealousy, and depression. Jane hardly blamed her. How must it feel for her to have been created to be the best friend of a deity, then find her job had been outsourced? How can a friendship ever compete with a romance? That had been Daria抯 biggest test of all. She had failed it. There would be no retest, and no need for one.
牋牋牋牋牋?Oh, we抳e had our ups and downs since Tom
walked onstage in my life. I outdid myself when making him: witty, smart,
handsome, rich, everything Daria could possibly be, with everything she
couldn抰 be, because he was a man. She tried to go her own way several times,
but she always came back, and I always took her back because . . . well . . .
because I liked her. I do still like her?u>liked her, I mean. I don抰 like
her now. She asked for this. She couldn抰 afford to fail. She had passed so
many other tests梥ticking with me in that blizzard I conjured up in the
mountains, when I pretended to be defeatist; sticking with me while I finally
got over Tommy Sherman抯 death so she couldn抰 use it against me again (she
tried to screw it up by helping Brittany plant that crutch to mock me梑ut that
pink flower I made grow out of it really threw them for a loop later!); then sticking
with me when I 搘ent popular?and acted like I was about to become a
cheerleader. That part bothers me, though. I wondered then if Daria and Tom
might hook up behind my back. I had a vision of them together in the stands,
mourning me because I抎 become brainless and popular, and it hit me that they
might actually be a matched set. How long could they resist each other? How
long until I was left alone again?
牋牋牋牋牋?I didn抰 trust either of them after
that. I threw them together at that homecoming parade, and they had fun.
That was all I needed to know. Daria got a warning from me on that one, with that
fire in her house, but when she came over to stay with me and Trent, she had a long
and cozy talk with Tom again. I let them do it. I watched their chemistry.
I knew the score. Daria got the screws put to her this week with that hair-dye
test I gave her. She passed梤ight up until last night, when she left my house
and promptly lip-locked with Tom. I wonder if they locked more than lips.
Doesn抰 matter. Funny how Ms. Defoe tried to get me to see the school shrink
the other day, because I looked like I was steamed about something. Boy, if she
wants to see steam, she抣l look into a volcano when I find Daria. Maybe I
should paint Daria抯 demise for Ms. Defoe抯 class, see what she thinks of it.
Nah. Not worth it. Ms. Defoe抯 my only ally on the teaching staff, but I don抰
need her support anymore. I don抰 need anyone抯 help now.
牋牋牋牋牋?What was it Mom always liked to say? 揑f you try to hold a butterfly tightly in your hand, it will die.?Let抯 find out if that抯 true for bigger things, too條ike ex-friends.
牋牋牋牋牋?Lawndale High came into view. Jane entered and wandered the halls, following her instincts. She dropped her books on the floor, knowing she wouldn抰 need them.
牋牋牋牋牋?In a hallway intersection ahead, Jane noticed Daria heading for class. She smiled and shouted, 揌ey!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria flinched when she glanced back. 揙h,?she said. 揌i.?She slowed down so Jane could catch up, but her manner was distant.
牋牋牋牋牋?Is that terror on your face, Daria? 揥hat's up??Jane said. 揥hat's going on? How抮e you doing??Hurry up and confess, you backstabbing traitorous bitch.
牋牋牋牋牋?揋reat,?Daria mumbled, unable to make eye contact. Her shoulders were hunched and her hands were shaking.
牋牋牋牋牋?Poor little butterfly. Jane raised an eyebrow. 揘o walkie to school today? What happened??She could actually smell the sour odor of fear in the air. It was amazing. Daria was white as a sheet. 揌ey, what's up??Jane prodded. 揟alk to me.?Her hands itched with unspent power, waiting to act.
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria started to speak, but her voice caught. She cleared her throat, then said in a soft, high voice, 揑 talked to Tom last night.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane felt strangely . . . disappointed. Hadn抰 more gone on than talking? 揧ou did??she asked, looking surprised. 揥here抎 you see him??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 didn抰.?Daria抯 voice quavered. 揑 called him on the phone. We . . . we talked about you.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane came to a stop in the hallway, puzzled. Students around were looking at them. 揧ou two talked about me??Jane asked. 揥hat about me did you find so interesting??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria抯 face was a shade beyond white, bloodless with terror. It came out with a rush. 揑 had to talk to somebody. I told him I wasn抰 worthy of you. I was supposed to be your best friend, but I wasn抰. I told him . . . I told him that I抎 betrayed you.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane lost her breath. 揧ou what??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 betrayed you.?Daria drew a breath and plunged on, her voice level. 揑 couldn抰 help it, Jane. She got into me on the first day of school, and I couldn抰 stop her. I tried, I tried so hard to keep her out, but she got into me and I told her everything. I抳e told her all your secrets, everything we did! I抦 sorry! I couldn抰 help it! I tried not to!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Wordless, Jane stared at Daria. She had no clue what was happening.
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria took off her backpack and unzipped a side pocket. From it, she pulled out a few small white pills, holding them out in her trembling palm. 揑 gave pills like these to you. They抮e psychotropic drugs to control your moods and paranoia. I put them in your drinks when you weren抰 looking. She made me do it. She said if I didn抰, she抎 make me go away. She has that kind of power. She抎 make me disappear, and that would hurt you more than anything. I couldn抰 let her hurt you!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?The pills fell to the floor. 揟he pills didn抰 work, anyway. Your body changes too rapidly for them to take effect, but she made me try again and again to get you to take them without your knowledge. She said I had to. She said if I cared about you, I抎 do it.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria抯 brown eyes looked into Jane抯 blue ones. 揧ou抳e tested me so many times, Jane, and I抳e tried to do the right thing, but I抳e betrayed you from the start. She got into me the morning I got here, right in her office, then put me in that after-school class to see if you抎 come get me. She said that you created me, that I抦 not real and everything about me is fake, I抦 like a dream made real, but it doesn抰 matter. I still wanted to be your best friend, even when I sold you out day after day. I don抰 deserve you. Tom does. She did this to me, Jane. She did this to us.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane抯 mind reeled. 揗s. Li did it? The principal??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揘o!?shouted Daria. 揝he抯 blocked out her name in my mind, and I can抰 say who she is! I could never go by her office again after what she did to me, and what she抎 made me do! I know I抦 not real, but . . . you抮e the only friend I抳e ever had!?Daria fought down her tears. 揟om deserves you. I told him last night he was better for you than me. He really loves you. The best thing I can do is go away forever.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane抯 mouth was dry. 揥hat . . . what are you saying? I don抰 understand!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 can抰 stand what I抳e done. I have to go away. All I can do is to give you this.?Daria unzipped her backpack and upended it, spilling its contents across the floor. Manila folders fell out, and a snowstorm of papers slid from them to the feet of the students crowded around them. 揑 took these from her office. Tom said I had to do it, to show you that what I said was true! I made myself go to her office this morning and break in to get these! Take them, quickly!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane crouched and picked up a file folder. The typed label on the upper tab read: JANE: Grade 10桯istory #4. Inside it were some of Jane抯 history papers from her sophomore year, homework and tests and even doodles she抎 sketched and discarded. Notes were written on the margins in red ink, but not in her history teacher抯 hand. Jane tilted her head to read the notes more clearly, flipping through the papers one by one.
牋牋牋牋牋?Grandiose ideation (deification)梥ame pattern in Literature papers. Flight of ideas with manic features, paranoid themes. Class presentation was accompanied by flat affect and by minor bodily gestures, foot tapping, and motions as if listening to music or rhythm (auditory hallucination?). Idiosyncratic world-view built upon ideas of reference梕verything happens to her, because of her, feeds into her, is all about her. Short essays, symptomatic of apathy/avolition, sub-minimalist responses. More delusions of grandeur and violent ideation (ref. themes in art class梘et notes from C.). Loose associations, paranoid ideation, persecutions, plots (personality decline in progress). Note increase in distortions of time; existential cataclysm is probable, not possible. Change medication & try again w/ D, very important. Focus on control issues.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane let the papers flip together in her hands. A slip of paper fell out to her feet. She looked down and read the red-penned handwriting thereon.
牋牋牋牋牋?揜eality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn抰 go away.?桺KD. Is this true?
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 have to go, Jane,?Daria whispered. 揝he told me that you might find out one day what I抳e done. She said you抎 be very angry with me, and she gave me a way to escape if you did. She said there抎 be no pain. Just three words, and棓
牋牋牋牋牋?揇aria,?said Jane very very fast. 揇on抰?i style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>don抰棓
牋牋牋牋牋?揑 love you!?Daria cried.
牋牋牋牋牋?Her image burned away like movie film on a white-hot bulb. Empty spaces appeared all over her, spread out like cancers, consumed her to the last green color of her jacket. She was gone.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane stood alone in the hall. She blinked at the space before her and reached out, her fingers passing through emptiness. Nothing was there, nothing at all.
牋牋牋牋牋?揇aria??she whispered. She looked down at the floor, at the manila folders and papers there梩he papers with the psychiatric notes scribbled on them.
牋牋牋牋牋?The school psychologist, Mrs. Manson.
牋牋牋牋牋?Mrs. Margaret Manson.
牋牋牋牋牋?I have a daughter, too, said Grandma J, but she抯 much older than you. Her name is Margaret. She went to school a long time to study about people. She抯 married now. They have a daughter who抯 older than you. You抳e never met them, which is a shame.
牋牋牋牋牋?A daughter.
牋牋牋牋牋?More delusions of grandeur (ref. themes in art class梘et notes from C.), said the note on her history paper.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane抯 art teacher was Claire Defoe. She had a degree in art therapy, Jane recalled, so Claire was a psychologist, too?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揘o,?said Jane, staring at the floor. 揘o way.?She knew everything, then. Intruders had been living in her Neverland, checking up on her. To accomplish their goals, they had used Daria as ruthlessly as she had. Daria had never had a chance.
牋牋牋牋牋?How must it have felt to have been torn in
two so completely? How must it have felt to have loved me with all your heart,
knowing that I both loved and hated you? How must it have felt to have wanted
to be loyal to me, when you were forced to be a traitor? How must it have felt
to have been tested without reason, judged without rhyme, forced to sell out
the only person you cared for? How hellish must it have been to have been you?
牋牋牋牋牋?I am damned, Daria. I am damned
beyond redemption by my own deeds. Your blood is on my hands, my only friend.
牋牋牋牋牋?And they helped bring it on.
牋牋牋牋牋?She stared at the floor where a friend had once stood. A new thought began to coalesce in her brain. A moment later, she looked up.
牋牋牋牋牋?Every student who saw her screamed and ran.
牋牋牋牋牋?揘o way,?she said, her voice not quite drowned out by the screams. She looked about as if waking from a deep sleep, then turned around and began walking. Her steady pace picked up but never became a run. The halls were littered with books and papers and backpacks and shoes and pencils and pens and rulers and compasses and tests and quizzes and essays and homework and scraps and dust. She went up a stairwell, turned a corner, went down a hall, and came to the office of the school psychologist.
牋牋牋牋牋?She put out a hand. The door blew into dust with a muffled boom. She walked in. On the floor were scattered papers, as if someone had dropped them in a terrible hurry to leave the room. All the papers were in Jane抯 handwriting with psychological notes penned on them in red. Jane swept her right hand across the room. The surrounding walls vanished. No one was there. Jane turned and stared at the wall leading into the hall. The wall exploded and was gone in a split second. No one was outside in the hallway. She could still hear the other students fleeing in their panic. She wanted to hear their screams. She made them scream until they were hoarse from it, and run until they fell in exhaustion.
牋牋牋牋牋?They finally see my power, she knew. They finally see my rage. She bit her
lower lip until it bled. They saw my only
friend die, the only friend I ever had, wronged unto death. They know what I
did. She killed herself because of me, because of them. Her blood is on
my hands. No water will ever wash me clean. I am a murderer again, times three.
A murderer, times three.
牋牋牋牋牋?I am damned and damned and damned
again.
牋牋牋牋牋?To hell with it all.
牋牋牋牋牋?She turned in place and the entire school building disappeared around her. Her feet were planted in the air thirty feet above the ground. The myriad screams ceased. Where all the people of Lawndale had been were now thousands upon thousands of steaming puddles of boiling blood and carbonized bone. The wind was gray with the ashes of the dead. She turned in the air again, and the blood and the bone and the ashes were gone.
牋牋牋牋牋?Where are you? Where are you, dear Aunt Margaret and cousin Claire? Where are you hiding? You could not be made to die as quickly as these did. You are Neverlanders, like me. Where are you, Margaret and Claire? Are you in your Neverlands, too?
牋牋牋牋牋?She began to draw in power, soaking it up like atoms into a vacuum. A blue sun and red moon jumped across a yellow sky. Black leaves waved, white grass grew. Time ran forward and backward, stopped and started, skipped, and broke apart.
牋牋牋牋牋?Where are you, Margaret and Claire? Come out, come out, wherever you are.
牋牋牋牋牋?Whole blocks of Lawndale entered and faded from reality: skyscrapers and farm houses, superhighways and gravel roads, shopping malls and corner groceries. Jane drank in more potential energy, drank it out of atomic nuclei, drank it from the particles that held space and time together like glue. The glue weakened. Space and time began to unravel and pull apart.
牋牋牋牋牋?Two vast rips opened in the violet sky on opposite sides of Jane. Out came Margaret and Claire, flying at her at fantastic speed with all their energies about them to capture her.
牋牋牋牋牋?揥elcome!?Jane cried, grinning. She put out her hands. Miles-long lightning arced from every finger, left and right. 揥elcome to me!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Margaret shielded herself with clouds of darkness, Claire in rainbows. The lightning reached into the darkness and the color and tore through them until lightning fingers curled around her aunt and cousin. Still Jane drank in the power, an infinite well into which all the energy in the universe ran.
牋牋牋牋牋?揑f you hold a butterfly tight in your hand, it will die!?shouted Jane, growing larger by the second. Her fingers curled into fists. The lightning writhed madly and curled around Margaret and Claire as they fought to hold it back.
牋牋牋牋牋?揧ou can抰 do this, Jane!?cried Claire. 揥e were trying to help you!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋??i style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>You killed my friend!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揝he wasn抰 real!?cried Margaret. 揧ou made her up! She was a figment, an imagining from your mind! She never existed!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋??i style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>LIAR!?Jane was a thousand feet high and growing rapidly. Reality around her became foglike, a movie run at increasing speed with a million gaps and jerks and stops and splits, the color washed out of it.
牋牋牋牋牋?揧ou made her up!?shouted Margaret. 揧ou hallucinated her and gave her substance, but she was unreal! You are real! You need help, Jane! Don抰 hurt us!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋??i style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Don抰 hurt you??Jane抯 scream cut through eternity. ?i style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Don抰 hurt you??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揧ou抮e very ill! You need help! If you don抰 stop, you抣l destroy everything! We抳e been trying to help you! You have to stop this!?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Destroy everything? Jane considered this. She could do it. She could destroy everything. Life wasn抰 worth living anymore. She had murdered her only friend for no reason. Nothing was real to her. Nothing made any difference.
牋牋牋牋牋?Yet in the hurricane whirling as reality began tearing itself to pieces around her, she felt something small stir, somewhere within her. She turned her gaze inward.
牋牋牋牋牋?Within her mind was a baby, curled and asleep and waiting.
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane looked on in wonder. It was true, she remembered. Daria had been a creation of hers, a part of her. She had forgotten that.
牋牋牋牋牋?And, at the end, Daria had loved her.
牋牋牋牋牋?So, I loved me, or she did? Was she real at last? What is real?
牋牋牋牋牋?It was too confusing. Jane shook her head, but her thoughts would not untangle. She turned her gaze outward and saw that she held tiny Margaret and Claire in her fists. She was a titan of titans, miles high with her feet planted in a formless void that had been the world. The stars had gone out, and no sun or moon looked down from the endless gray sky. She had drained away almost all the power in existence that there was to take.
牋牋牋牋牋?What can I do to make it better? She was dazed at the turn of events. What can I do to fix this ruined reality?
牋牋牋牋牋?She looked down at Margaret and Claire as they struggled.
牋牋牋牋牋?What can I do, now that I am truly God?
牋牋牋牋牋?An answer came. It was very simple. She was surprised she hadn抰 thought of it sooner. With regret, she drained away the screaming Margaret and Claire until they were gone, too. She needed every bit of potential energy in existence to pull this off.
牋牋牋牋牋?All about her was chaos, endless and deep.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane lifted her head and spread her arms. It was time. She cried out:
Let there be
LIGHT!
She exploded梐nd there was Light. . . .
* * *
You have to let it go. If it comes back, it is truly yours. If doesn抰, it never really was.
* * *
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane opened her eyes. Dim light filtered through the thick maroon sheet hung over her bedroom window, heralding the morning. Man, that was the craziest dream I抳e ever had. I should have known better than to have eaten leftovers out of the refrigerator. The ending was rushed and didn抰 make any sense at all. Last time I ever read the original Peter Pan before bedtime. Oh, well, another day, another bout with higher education. She rolled over and got out of bed, remembered the events of the day before with Daria and the hair dye and Tom and everything, then she pushed it out of her mind. She showered, dressed, and had a quick breakfast.
牋牋牋牋牋?A knock came at her front door, right on time. She opened it and found Daria there on the step, looking distressed.
牋牋牋牋牋?揥hat抯 up??Jane said. Her heart skipped a beat. Was this about Tom?
牋牋牋牋牋?揥e have to talk,?said Daria, her voice tense. 揟om came by my house last night after I left here. He asked me to get into his car with him. I told him no, and then he said he wanted to talk about us梐bout him and me. I flipped him off and left, but he called me later. I didn抰 take the call when Quinn picked it up and told me. I had to tell you.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane swallowed. Her face burned.
牋牋牋牋牋?揑抦 sorry,?said Daria, looking mortified.
牋牋牋牋牋?揝orry for what??Jane managed to say.
牋牋牋牋牋?揊or telling you. I had to.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane nodded. It was pure Daria. She had to do it. After a long, shuddering breath, Jane leaned against the doorway. Her legs trembled, and the world seemed to spin around her. Tom was after Daria, not the other way around. I抳e been such a fool.
牋牋牋牋牋?揓ane??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑抦 okay,?she lied, sick to her stomach. 揃etter that you tell me now than have me find out later.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?Daria was a portrait of misery. 揑抣l understand if you don抰 ever want to see me again,?she said in a low voice.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane gave a laugh that sounded more like a cough. 揧ou dope,?she said. 揧ou抮e my best friend.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揃ut I抳e ruined everything.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揘o, you made everything right. It sucks out loud, yeah, what Tom did, but you made it better, a little.?She sighed. 揑抣l have to make a side trip after school to see Tom and have words with him about this梠r maybe something more than words.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揇on抰 take anything sharp with you.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揃ullets aren抰 sharp.?Seeing the anxious look on Daria抯 face, Jane added, 揓oke.?She ran tired hands through her hair. 揑抣l be okay. Do you mind waiting for a few minutes while I go to the bathroom and have a quick cry before school??/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揑抣l be here,?said Daria, depressed again.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane looked at her, then reached out and hugged Daria without warning. 揟hank you,?she said. 揟hank you for everything.?/p>
牋牋牋牋牋?揧ou抮e squashing me,?said Daria in a muffled voice.
牋牋牋牋牋?Jane grinned even though she was already crying. 揑f you hold a butterfly tightly in your hand, it will棓
牋牋牋牋牋?揙h, shut the hell up!?said Daria, but she hugged Jane back. The great friendship passed its final test梐nd lived.
* * *
牋牋牋牋牋?Beyond the boundaries of the cosmos above, God looked down upon Her creation and gave it Her blessing. Jane was in Her heaven. All was right with the world.
*
Author抯 Notes II: This is a mutant crossover with Peter Pan. Not many people recall the end of the story, which offers the genealogy that is used here to add Jane Lane and several family members to the list of women able to create their own Neverlands. The ability appears only in women, never in men, and is passed from mother to daughter. I considered crossovers with Alice in Wonderland and The Wizard of Oz, but Alice and Dorothy had their fantasy voyages while asleep梟ot while awake, as did Wendy.
牋牋牋牋牋?Seen in a different light, the Jane Lane of this tale has many of the same symptoms as do paranoid schizophrenics, from auditory hallucinations (the music playing in the background of the show) to visual hallucinations (artistic errors and the 搘eird episodes?like 揇epth Takes a Holiday?, plus delusions, apathy, and more.
牋牋牋牋牋?Hope you enjoyed it. Cheers!
Original: 06/05/05, corrected 09/26/05
FINIS