Two
“Why did you just call me ‘Kevin’?”
Jane liked to think of herself as a reasonable and measured individual under normal circumstances, regardless of whether other people who knew her well would do the same. In fact, barring one stringy-limbed, blonde exception, the Lane family were not given to freaking out as a general rule. Still, it would have been more than fair to say, given the circumstances, that she was freaking out now. There had been a warm, hopeful feeling in her heart, through which the cold winds of possibility now blew, and she stared rather blankly at Brittany, who was staring right back, with what Jane assumed was an expression of horror that matched her own.
“What?”
“Why did you just call me ‘Kevin’? Why do you sound like Daria?!”
“What do you-?”
“Damn it, Brittany! Why am I over there?! What happened!”
Now that she’d started, she was finding it impossible to stop. It was like she had this scream, lurking just at the top of her throat, and it wanted to be free. Her heart was hammering in her chest, which felt oddly constricted, her voice sounded wrong, and now Brittany was gaping at her... None of it was right! None of it. She raised her hands to demonstrate her point, and felt her panic building all over again. Those were not her hands! She wasn’t wearing gloves! Brittany was saying something, but Jane couldn’t hear her, not over the scream, and she tore the gloves off, looking down at the elbow pads and the arms and god-damned yellow jersey she had on. This wasn’t... None of it was... Christ, she could barely breathe! She had to get it off, she had to-
The blow was a clean one, and the force of it almost carried her a foot from where she had been sitting. It cut through her line of thought like a shot, and as the sting began to set in, her breathing slowed to a more manageable pace, like a long run. She wanted to go all Forrest Gump now, and how, but the way Brittany was standing over her, her expression equal parts fury and horror, chest heaving impressively, spoke against it. She put a hand to her injured cheek, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish, and Brittany raised a threatening finger.
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
There was a long moment where they both just stared at each other; a pregnant pause that gave birth to a lot of other pauses each more deeply confusing than its parent, and then Brittany broke the silence, all of a sudden looking every bit as lost and fragile as Jane felt.
“Jane,” she said, her eyes pleading, “is that you?”
“I... think so? Daria?”
Brittany, or Daria, bit her lip in a way that was as cute as it was disconcerting, and nodded, looking down at her sneakers. Brittany’s sneakers? Jane wasn’t sure what to think of it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to think about it at all, actually, and she joined her friend in staring at the ground for a moment, then gave up, because that was even more disconcerting, and raised a lot of odd questions. Daria coughed politely, which was a thunderclap in the quiet. At some point, Jane realised, the rain had stopped without her noticing. She looked up, following her friend’s gaze across to the two silent forms still lying on the roof.
“We... we should probably do something.”
“Yeah,” Jane agreed, trying to get her muscles to work, “we should.”
Rising slightly, and trying not to think about which parts of her anatomy were catching where, she looked over at... at herself. Was that right? Pronouns were failing her far too much today, she thought, trying to surreptitiously adjust herself whilst neither looking nor acknowledging what she was touching. Right then was not the time for that sort of thing, not while she was lying there and looking... Crap! Why was she still sitting there?! Shaking herself, she rose the rest of the way and moved to hover awkwardly over her own prone form. This was ludicrous; what was she worried about? It was her, for heaven’s sake, and it was nothing she hadn’t seen before, was it? But it was still weird. Was she even breathing? That seemed like a thing she should check, so she did, gingerly and trying not to make it any weirder. Okay, so she was breathing... Now what?
“Britt, er, Daria? You still breathing too?”
“Yeah.”
“This is weird.”
“Oh good, so it’s not just me?”
Even in Brittany’s squeak, Jane could practically hear Daria’s eyes rolling, and she turned to glare at her friend even as she relished the familiarity of the gesture. Even that tell-tale smirk, so out of place on Brittany’s expressive face, seemed familiar, and, though she’d never admit it, comforting. She flipped her the bird, trying not to think too hard about how the voices were wrong and shook her head.
“Screw you.”
“I think we can safely say you already have.”
Now that was too much, and Jane did a double take, mouth half open before thought intervened and she simply laughed. She couldn’t help it; the line was awful, and (technically) true, and she was just too tense not to, and it carried on far longer than it needed to, bringing a tear to her eye. It felt good though, she thought, not realizing how much she’d needed a release. Once the shaking had subsided, and she’d wiped the tears away, she took a steadying breath and shot a wry smile at Daria.
“So, we’re doing this now?”
“I guess,” Daria said, “it’s that or start crying. Can you see any injuries?”
“I, er, no? I don’t think so.”
“Well, there’s that then. Come on, recovery position.”
Daria moved back to herself, looking back when Jane did not move, and simply stared. It was a useful tactic in situations where her brain had failed her, and she could rely on it to provoke one of two responses. Hopefully it would inspire the helpful one this time, because she was drawing an utter blank about this.
“First aid? We took a course six months ago? You spent the entire thing ogling the paramedic?”
“I believe my blank look speaks for itself.”
“Just give me a hand,” Daria said, tersely, “I think we’re alright-“
“-barring the obvious?”
“-but we need to be careful,” Daria said, ignoring the sarcasm, “and then we can panic.”
She didn’t entirely appreciate Daria’s tone, even if it was jarringly disconcerting to hear Brittany attempting Daria’s monotone, but she let it slide. They were both under a lot of stress, and fighting wasn’t going to help either of them. She was barely holding it together, after all, and she didn’t want to think about how little miss repression was dealing with it. Between them, they managed to turn themselves over, which was a lesson in awkwardness all of its own. It shouldn’t have been, really, but between her trying not to overbalance on every other step, which was cute, and Jane herself almost tripping in Kevin’s dumbass cleats and getting in the way, which wasn’t, they managed it. Standing again, she was about to remark on it, when she noticed Daria rooting around in her (unconscious her) bag.
“What are you?”
“Cell phone,” Daria said, distractedly, “call help. Watch them.”
“Why didn’t we do that earlier?”
No answer seemed to be forthcoming, and she didn’t want to annoy Daria if she didn’t have to, so she returned her attention to the two prone girls, hoping it would help her figure things out. Maybe if she thought of them as separate, then it would be easier? It wasn’t, but she kept it up anyway, and her foggy brain finally registered that both of them lying prone in damp clothes on a wet roof was probably not the healthiest position to be in. Alright, their options were limited, since they were stuck up there thanks to Kevin, but even then, was it wise to move them? She had no idea, and standing over herself… hell, over both of them, was eerie.
It was like she was sleeping, she thought, flexing her new, shovel-sized hands briefly to keep some feeling going. Was that what she looked like? Was she ever that peaceful? As she looked, she felt the panic starting to rise again, but she forced it down. She and Trent had once survived on a buck seventy-six of groceries every week one summer, so she could get through this. Speaking of Trent; how was she going to explain this to him? Should she explain this to him? Would anyone believe them?
“Mom?”
Daria’s voice cut once more cut through her line of thought, and she turned away from those worrying and fascinating questions to pay proper attention to her friend once more. Whatever was being said, it did not seem to be good, if Daria’s expression was anything to go by. She seemed to realise what she’d just said after a moment, and shook her head, glancing back at Jane. That wasn’t a good sign. Whether Daria admitted it or not, her mother was her go to person for help and advice, and, if anything happened there… She didn’t want to think about it.
“Sorry, Mrs Morgendorffer? This is Brittany Taylor,” she said, shakily, “Daria’s friend? Yes, I… Well, I… She is here. No, she can’t… She’s not moving. I… I don’t… Look, we’re stuck on the roof of Lawndale High, and we don’t know what to do.”
There was a panicked sound from the other end of the phone, audible even at her distance, and she tensed, watching Daria pace back and forth. Her ears perked up at the sound of her name, even though she knew that could not possibly be a good thing either.
“Jane? She’s not moving either. What? Her brother? Well, where…? Because the door is locked, and we’re stuck. Can you? Okay. Okay. Thank you.”
Hanging up the phone, she stared through it for what seemed like far too long, and Jane felt the urge to step in.
“So… what now?”
“She’s going to call nine-one-one,” Daria said, “and get here as fast as she can.”
“Why couldn’t we…?”
“I don’t know that they’d believe us,” she said, “I mean; I wouldn’t. They’ll listen to her though.”
Jane hoped so. Helen Morgendorffer could be a force to be reckoned with once she got going, and the only thing she tackled with more relish than the law was her family, for good or for ill. She would try harder than anyone, but she could be a little too… focused… at times. Would she be willing to help them at all? Would she understand? What if she didn’t? Then what would happen to them? She could see that Daria was thinking over the same thing, and she crossed to stand by her friend, looking towards the wreckage of the little hut.
“You said something about Trent?”
Daria seemed to shake herself, looking sombre, and nodded.
“He was waiting out the storm at my house,” she said, “but he drove off with Dad to try and find us.”
“So, they’ve likely run into a tree somewhere, then?”
“Probably,” Daria said, passing a hand over her eyes. "We'll just have to wait and see."