Daria: Is It College Yet? Page #5

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Find your voice, perhaps?

Hmm, yes, exactly. Find my voice.

Note to self:
stop thinking so much, Morgendorffer, you idiot!

Daria, is everything all right?

Ummm, do you think we might possibly start over, and this time, I'll just answer

your questions instead of agonizing over them internally and then blurting out

something asinine?

Sure.

And so I seated this one couple right next to this other couple, and all of a

sudden, the guy at the first table started screaming at the girl at the second

table. I mean, how was I to know that she dumped that guy for the other one?

Quinn, that's terrible!

I know! The first guy was a lot cuter. Hey Sandi!

How are you?

What did you say Sandi?

Whaaat?

Can't talk. Laryngitis. Sandi! You lost your voice!

So once I stopped worrying about what to say and just said it, I thought the

interview went okay, but by then, I'd used up five of my fifteen minutes.

Your interview was only fifteen minutes? I mean...

Ummm, we should probably be get going if we want to make Boston by dinner.

Right. Mom? We should be...

Look, Tom. It's Bill Woods.

You're right. He's a lit professor here; he was also in the lawn tennis team

with my father.

Of course.

Kay! Tom! I don't believe it! Why didn't tell me you were coming to town?

Well, I knew we'd only be here for the day, but... please, Bill, do join us!

Actually, I'm on my way to a meeting. MacArthur winners get so testy if they're

kept waiting. How about lunch tomorrow?

Umm, Mom?

We'd love to, but I'm afraid we have to go to Boston and look at some other schools.

How about a 7:
30 breakfast? You can still make Boston by noon. What

do you say, Tom? You can update me on your interview here. Maybe I can even

throw a little influence your way. Not that you'll need it.

That would be great. Daria had an interview, too.

Then it's a date. I'll see everyone tomorrow in the faculty dining room.

Daria, you don't mind, do you?

Umm. No, it's fine.

Mom, Bill was supposed to meet us at seven-thirty. It's eight.

I promise. If he's not here in another... there he is!

Sorry I'm a little late, but I just couldn't get my publisher off the phone. He

does love to chat.

Well, the worst of rush hour should be over, so with a little luck, we'll be in

Boston by one.

Yeah, that'll be plenty of time.

Oh dear.

Oh my.

"And so, due to her inability to manage Fashion Club meetings and a minor

part-time job, Quinn has been granted permission to take an officially

sanctioned sabtical..." "sabbactical..."

Let me help. "Saaaa..."

"Vacation from her vice-presidential duties."

Ooohhh.

Daria, my sincerest apologies for arriving here so late.

Mom, it's not your fault. It's raining, and there was that pile-up, and then

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