LLH 7.5

“Remedial Instruction” by Roentgen

Dinner was brief and, in Daria's mind, best forgotten.

So there are others. She thought about the list of people she either knew or suspected had superhuman powers. The Legionnaires. The man who tried to kill Russell Stark, who was the first person with powers the three-person Legion had ever fought. Stark himself and his assistant, Dawn Hall. Perhaps the Marine. Lou Cypher. The three creeps who had tried to kidnap them.

That made about fifteen people. Maybe, just maybe the weird beings in their dreams were also superhuman, using some sort of mental attack. Jane was absolutely convinced that what had happened was real. Fifteen plus. I think it's time to make a list.

Daria thought about what it would mean if this was merely a small percentage. She decided to be very conservative and figure that all of those she had named were a tenth part of the superhuman population. That meant one hundred fifty supers wandering about.

Even the number one hundred fifty didn't make sense. If these powers are comic book powers, then the world would have known about superpowered people. There might have even been a real Superman. After all, there were people with strong powers, like Daria and Upchuck, and people with weak powers like Sandi Griffin. Sooner or later, one person would have gone psycho, gotten depressed, decided to rob a bank. And not all of those people would be Americans. What about an Iraqi superhuman, or one from North Korea? Or an al-Qaeda superhuman, attacking American soldiers in Iraq, or causing another 9/11-type crisis?

It didn't make sense. She resolved to ask The Marine about the other superhumans and why they hadn't spilled out in the Media like a cup filled to overflowing. How had it been kept a secret, all this time?

(* * *)

"Oh no!!"

"Sorry ladies," said the soldier, "but your quarters are off-limits for the duration of this training. You'll be split into two tents. The women will have Gold Tent and the men will have Black Tent."

"Ooo rah" muttered Daria.

"My makeup is in my trailer! You have to let me have my makeup! Could I please have my makeup?" Quinn batted her eyes. "Please?"

The soldier was unmoved. The Fashion Club began chiming in, to overwhelm the guard with their plaintive cries.

This left Daria, Jane, and Upchuck bored watching the Fashion Club's fruitless quest. "Well," said Jane, "let's see the digs."

The three walked over to the Gold Tent. For a tent out in the middle of a quarry, it looked Spartan but clean. The tent was rather large, but was still one room. The quarry floor was covered by a large tarp. Inside the tent were six identical cots, a vanity to provide water to wash one's hands, one single desktop PC, and a desk.

"Welcome to Camp Lackawanna" said Jane. "If my summer camp digs were a nine...this would be a ten. Barely."

"Ugh. Close quarters with the lunatics outside? Lipstick parties and hour-long talks about stone-washed jeans? I protest," said Daria. But if I blow this, I don't learn anything else. Daria toyed with the idea of picking the Marine's mind. Get the information, then tell him to scram.

"I've slept in worse," said Upchuck. "My dad once took us to a lodge in the Adirondacks during the winter. And dibs on the computer."

"Dream on, Upchuck," said Jane. "You sleep in the Black Tent. Wherever that is."

"Fine," said Upchuck. "The Black Tent it is. While you are fighting with the lovelies of the Fashion Club over running water and computer time, I shall have a terminal all to myself!" Upchuck left.

(* * *)

"Here you go."

Upchuck had asked one of the soldiers to direct him to the Black Tent. "Charles Ruttheimer, Legionnaire!" he said. The corporal was glad to take him there.

It was a pup tent. Something out of a cartoon. It didn't look like a man could lay flat and keep his feet inside. Compared to the size of the Gold Tent, the Black Tent looked like Charlie Brown's Christmas tree, shrunken and unloved.

"You must be joking!" cried Upchuck. "I'm looking for something like the Gold Tent."

"The Major said that this was definitely the Black Tent," said the corporal.

"But my computer!"

"I believe he said that you'll be sharing that with the other Legionnaires. You only get one computer for personal time, all of you! Compared to Parris Island, that Gold Tent is a luxury item. Now stop bothering me, buddy!"

Charles was still aghast. "Holy crap." What would he tell his buddies online?

(* * *)

Daria stirred in her sleep. She heard something playing outside. It was loud, and the canvas walls of the tent would not block it out.

Bastards. Won't let me sleep. She mumbled along with the music. She figured that she might be more awake if the bombs were truly "bursting in air".

Then she heard the sound of running water. The vanity!

As she sat up in bed, the Fashion Club was crowded around the vanity mirror, all fixing their hair as best as they could. Tiffany had managed to phantomize her way back to the trailers -- only to find that they were all locked. Passing through the trailer walls, she brought her skin cream and her hair kit back -- but the walk took at least two miles, one to the trailers and one back. This left the Fashion Club with military issue combs and brushes and one can of hairspray for the four of them.

Daria turned to Jane, still sleeping. "Jane. Jane, get up. I don't know what time it is, I don't know when they serve breakfast, I'm hungry and I'm not looking forward to today. And we'll never get a chance to brush out teeth with the Harpies out."

Jane didn't stir.

Daria whet her finger and stuck it in Jane's ear. Jane almost lept out of bed in response, making a noise akin to a war-whoop.

"I wanted to see if you were alive, that's all."

Jane flopped back in the bed. "I thought telling Quinn and Sandi that I wasn't going to fly over there and unlock the trailers would be fun -- we'd get to watch them suffer. But we're paying for it now."

"At least we're close to the door," said Daria. "Trust me, I want to be the first person in the tent when the day is over."

"Yeah," smiled Jane. "And I plan on being the last one in. Do you think they have coffee at the Green Tent?"

"I didn't see any."

"I'll make a request," said Jane. "I'm going to need some to make it through the day."

(* * *)

Quinn and her friends were left to commiserate at the other end of the mess tent. As it turned out, there was coffee and Jane drank two strong black cups. Daria noticed the circles under Jane's eyes.

"I guess those cots aren't as wonderful as they let on."

"I wouldn't know," said Jane, sipping, "I never slept in mine."

"You stayed up all night?" Daria hit the sack before Jane did. "So what fashion secrets did you learn? Or did they swear you to secrecy with a blood oath?"

"The minute the Fashionable Four got their beauty sleep...I was breaking curfew. This is the Army to me, and I intend to break every regulation possible." Jane smiled. "They expect it. It keeps them on their toes, makes everybody happy."

"And how did you get past the guards?"

"Straight up." Jane made flapping signs with her hands.

"So where did you fly to, then?"

"I'm....not at liberty to say. Top secret."

Daria was about to threaten tortures worse than Abu Ghraib, but Daria stopped her comeback. Tom. She was out with that guy last night.

Daria frowned. "Isn't fraternization against military discipline?"

"Tom's not the enemy," said Jane.

The Fashion Club members broke up their meal. Daria and Jane were still eating. "Still on your diet?" said Daria, referring to Quinn's quick disposal of the remnants of breakfast.

Quinn glared at Daria. "I'm not catching hell from that crazy Army woman again." Daria and Jane immediately stopped eating and followed.

(* * *)

This time, the seven were at the Blue Tent before 0800. Instead of the hawk-nosed Sergeant Nemec waiting for them, the Marine stepped out of the tent. "Good morning!"

"GOOD MORNING!!" shouted the Legionnaires.

The Marine smiled. He had some documents in his hand. "I would like the following Legionnaires to please step forward. Lane. D. Morgendoffer. Ruttheimer."

The three stepped forward. The Marine handed each of them a manila envelope.

"For me?" asked Jane.

"Yes, for you. Congratulations to the three of you. Your scores on the intelligence test were so high that by the power of the Carter County Board of Education, the State, and by the power of the Secretary of Education of the United States, I hereby grant each of you the General Education Diploma. This means, that the three of you are officially recognized by the county government as possessing the equivalent of a high school diploma and will not be asked to return to Lawndale High School to complete your senior year."

"Wait a -- !" said Daria.

"Hold all questions until the end. I would like the following Legionnaires to step forward. Blum-Deckler. Griffin. Q. Morgendorffer. Rowe." The four hesitantly stepped forward.

"You flunked. You are the proud possessors of nothing at all. Whenever Lawndale High School gets around to giving you a diploma, it will be worth shitt given your miniscule levels of intellectual achievement. And Lane...!"

The Marine turned. "...I would wipe that stupid grin off your mouth. You barely passed. Consider yourself lucky."

The other Fashion Club members were nonplussed. Their jaws were in the dropped position, making each of them look like a large-mouthed bass. Stacy started to cry.

"STOP THAT! Sergeant Nemec!"

Nemec emerged from the Blue Tent. The two looked at the bawling Stacy. "Give Rowe something to cry about! Take her to the Wagon Wheel!"

The six watched as Nemec grabbed Stacy by the upper arm and walked her away as Stacy let loose for more tears.

"So how is punishing Stacy going to make her smarter?" said Daria.

"It isn't. But you can't break down in tears every single time something frustrates you. Stacy's sanity will be called into question by other people, and Rowe doesn't deserve that," said the Marine. "Some exercise will put Ms. Rowe in the right frame of mind."

"Right. The right frame of mind for repressed emotions."

"...why Ms. Morgendorffer! I didn't think you were a Freudian at heart! But I'm not Ms. Manson from Lawndale High." That is to say, I'm not a quack with a degree from Lawndale State University. "Talk is cheap. If Rowe wants help...then you help her! Or is Rowe not worthy of help from the great Daria Morgendorffer?"

"I...wouldn't know how to help her," said Daria in defense.

"Maybe you aren't as smart as you think as you are, then," said the Marine. Quinn simply glared at Daria in response.

The Marine turned to Quinn and the rest of the Fashion Club. "Until you can pass that test, you'll spend four hours a day with the good Sergeant. I said she'd be the instructor you never had. She taught Cat IVs so I think she might be able to teach you. My opinion is that some of you are spoiled rotten. You will pay attention in class, you will answer questions, and you will take full advantage of the attention she gives you."

"As for our three winners," said The Marine, "you'll spend the four hours in private study in another tent. You will devise your own curriculum...and it will be a true curriculum, where you put yourselves to the tests in the same way as your fellow Legionnaires. Just because you passed a test doesn't mean your learning has stopped for the rest of your lives."

Jane raised a hand. "That curriculum...could it include art by any chance?"

"It would, Lane. Your art time qualifies as study time. But I want to know what the goals of your art are."

"Actually," smiled Jane, "art is goalless."

The Marine stepped forward towards Jane. "Surprise me. You won't be doodling for four hours. Get Ruttheimer to help you with a plan. But your learning will be goal-directed, or The Artist will have to get along without her art."

"And we can study...anything?" said Morgendorffer.

"Anything...as long as it's study, and not just reading The Vampire LeStat."

"How about the counterfeiting of currency?"

The Marine smiled. "Well...I wouldn't use study time for that...!"

(* * *)

Jane, Daria, and Upchuck sat in a lone tent with three large desks. Upchuck immediately started typing away at his terminal.

Daria was bored. "Upchuck, what are you doing? The Instructor has already blocked all the porn sites."

"I'm looking up sites on technical drawing."

Jane looked at Upchuck. "Drawing?"

"Not art drawing, like in Ms. Defoe's class. Technical drawing. Like architecture. You had to go to the vocational school for training in technical drawing." And the vocational school was filled with the car repair punks and the beautician sluts. I wouldn't have survived five minutes in there.

"You would need an artist's easel," said Daria. "And a T-square. And pens and all sorts of specialized equipment."

"I'll ask for them," said Upchuck. "I'll figure out what I'm looking to learn, and I'll type it all up in a proposal for the Instructor to look at."

"And if he shoots you down?" said Daria.

"Then I'll just write another one. Anything to avoid having to spend four hours in a tent with that crazy woman. That woman out-Barches Barch! Of course," smiled Upchuck, "I'm sure Miss Lane can give me some pointers in the passion that every artist longs to possess! Rrrowwwlll!!"

"All lines are busy, Romeo," said Jane. "I have a sculpture plan that will keep The Instructor off my back for a few weeks. I might even get to go to New York!"

"With Tom?" said Daria, a bit pointed.

"If he wants to come. I want to make body sculptures like they do at Madame Tussauds!"

"In wax?"

"No, Daria. Fiberglass. Realistic life sculpture has been dead since Rodin, who mastered the form. I think the only place they teach it is Bulgaria. Never knew how to make fiberglass molds, but I always wanted to. So now, I have the chance."

"And The Instructor's going to let you do that?"

"I'm going to talk him into it. That's where I need your help in writing this damn thing. I don't even know what to write down."

"Just tell him what you told me. That realistic sculpture has been dead since Rodin, and there are few living masters of the craft. You'd like to have an opportunity to study."

"Just write it like that?" asked Jane. "Like a conversation? Like me and you talking?"

"It won't be written like a conversation. But the key to a persuasive essay is the persuasion," said Daria. "But I don't think they're going to bring anyone over here."

"I think they will," said Jane, "if they have the money to build a skyscraper and a tent city in the middle of nowhere. What's the salary of one artist compared to that?"

"Most artists would work for food," said Daria. Jane frowned, but ignored the slur with some effort.

"So Daria," said Jane, "what are you going to work on?"

"Uh...I don't really have an idea just yet."

"You'd better come up with something," said Upchuck, "or he'll probably throw you in a tent with Sergeant Nemec until you do!"

(* * *)

Daria surfed the Net, but had come up blank. She had spent most of her time helping Jane with her proposal. Upchuck was already finished. The small, cheap printer in the room whirred away, and Upchuck stapled the results. He asked one of the men to deliver his proposal to The Marine. Jane handed in her "homework" as well. Daria hoped that The Marine wouldn't make a case out of her not coming up with some stupid busywork project right away.

The three made it to the Green Tent about the same time, with Upchuck forced to walk in front. Upchuck could probably put his eyes in his ass if he wanted to, thought Daria, but he's not walking behind me.

Quinn, Sandi, and Tiffany were in line, looking for something decent to eat. They looked exhausted. Stacy wasn't there with them.

Jane was the one who spoke up. "Stacy's still gone, huh?"

"She never came back," said Sandi, "and I don't know what happened to her. Sergeant Nemec came back and she taught for four solid hours."

"What did she teach?" said Daria, curious.

"The Middle East!" said Quinn. "She's teaching us about Iraq! Gawd! It's so boring but she wouldn't even let you chat with your friends!"

"She maaaade me stand in a corrrrrner!" moaned Tiffany.

"For fifteen minutes, holding two books!" said Sandi. "And to top it all off...she gave us homework! Due tomorrow! We have to write...essays!" Sandi said it as if she were being asked for a urine sample.

"About what?" said Upchuck.

"Dirty bombs!" said Quinn.

"The nuclear crape-ability of Israel!" said Sandi.

"Unemployyyyment in Iraq!" moaned Tiffany.

"Daria?" asked Quinn. "Could we like...uh...get your help....?" The Fashion Club looked at Daria plaintively.

"Hmm...." thought Daria. "There's nothing more enjoyable than watching you collectively hoisted by your own petard. And what a charming petard it is. As much as I would like to teach you geopolitics, the last time I tried to teach you anything, you did everything but tell me to go to hell, even to keep you from flunking Mr. DeMartino's class. As far as I'm concerned --- you can all rot," said Daria.

The three Fashion Club members had nothing to say. They were silent, and funeral glum. They returned to their meals, and looked miserable.

Jane watched. "I'm not enjoying this as much as I thought I would." She sighed. "As Grand PooBah of the Legion...I have certain powers...."

"--oh no. Don't you even go there, Lane!"

"I'm going there -- !"

" -- and since, unlike Upchuck and me, you can't think of anything to do with your
time -- !"

"Uh uh. I'll spend my time planning your untimely death if you ask me to help any of them!" Daria glared at Jane.

"Then I'm changing my mind. You don't have to tutor any of them -- !"

"Thank GOD!" shouted Daria. Quinn and her friends looked crestfallen.

" -- but you have to let them ask you questions!"

"Hell no!"

The three Fashion Club members stood up and ran to hug Jane.

"Wait a minute!" shouted Jane. "I didn't say she was going to do your work for you!"

"But Dah-riaaaa!" said Quinn, "you write soooo much better than any of us!"

"Nice try," said Daria.

"Peace treaty!" said Jane. "You get five minutes of Daria's time, each of you. Daria, you give honest answers! No sarcasm!"

The Fashion Club members began to squeeeeeee! and celebrate their newfound if reluctant ally. Daria looked at Jane.

>-:: This will never work. Mom tried to force me to tutor Quinn, but Quinn always tried to palm her work off onto me. She'll try the same thing all over again. < -::

Jane thought back at Daria. She couldn't send thoughts into Daria's head, but she knew Daria could read them.

the difference is I don't care about quinn like your mother does. she has no lane d-n-a, so i'm under no obligation to make her life easy or hard -- i've spent time with ol' doe eyes and i'm immune

>-:: Great. Quinn will make me suffer. So will Sandi and Tiffany. So how do I get to make you suffer? >-:: asked Daria, telepathically.

don't worry...i'm sure you'll find a way to make me suffer sooner or later...you always do....

(* * *)

It was a quick walk to the Red Tent after lunch. The Legionnaires were learning to live by their wristwatches. As they entered the tent, they saw The Marine waiting for them. He was surrounded by men who were dressed half-military and half-fitness instructor. This can't be good, thought Daria.

The group looked at Stacy sitting on a nearby bench. Or rather, lying across the bench in a supine position, her arms crossed above her face, limply. Her clothing was drenched in sweat, and her stomach involuntarily spasmed as she breathed in and out.

"Good afternoon!"

"GOOD AFTERNOON!"

"Ruttheimer," said the Marine. "I read your proposal. You'll have your drawing equipment there tomorrow morning. It will take us a while to find an instructor for you, but that's no reason for you not to learn on your own. I was very impressed."

"Thanks!"

"I'm so impressed I'm going to increase the size of your living quarters. It won't be the grand headquarters of the ladies, but at least you'll be able to sit up in it...if not stand."

Upchuck could hardly believe his good fortune. Everyone got to see all of Upchuck's teeth as he smiled.

"As for you, Lane...you're asking an awful lot. That's some very specialized instruction you're asking for."

"It's what I want to do."

"It requires molds, ovens, and a host of equipment. We'd basically have to build an entire studio for you. For now, I'm afraid the answer is no." Jane looked unhappy, but the Marine continued. "But...if you prove a fast learner on other projects, we might be able to come to an agreement. I'll keep your proposal in mind."

"So...I might be able to do it?"

"I said the answer is no...for now. As for you Morgendorffer...I'm waiting to see what you propose! I'm sure it's going to be spectacular." Daria could already feel the burden of the expectations on her shoulders.

"Now...we're going to be here for three hours. We'll do some stretching exercises that I'll bet none of you are used to. By the time you complete them, you'll look forward to the simplicity of running and weight-lifting."

"Uh..." said Upchuck. "What about...the 'Wagon Wheel'?"

"Oh, we started Rowe on the Wagon Wheel right away. It made a new woman out of her." Upchuck looked at Stacy lying on the bench. She looked like a used dishrag, her pigtails drooping.

"You'll have the Wagon Wheel at the end...don't you worry. Now, everyone to the mats...!!"