Chapter Two: New Friends
It was stupid, really, thinking that the burglar would come to their house. Oh yes, Shirley knew about him. But she also knew that all the houses he had been into until now were far away enough that their house was obviously not targeted. But Mummy insisted, only because they were relatively wealthy.
Suddenly, as if someone had just activated a bomb, Mummy opened the door to her room. "Shirley! Do stop sulking and come downstairs, will you?" she said hastily. Shirley could tell she had thought that Myrtle had seen her lying dead or something. "You need to eat something."
Shirley didn't feel like discussing this. She wasn't hungry, and she hated it when people pushed food on her. She sat up in her bed and reached for a small notepad on her nightstand and started flipping through it, ignoring her mother.
"I'm serious, young lady," Mummy said, folding her arms and furrowing her brow. "You remember the last time you didn't eat and passed out during Gym?"
"Gym's boring," Shirley mumbled as she found the page she had been looking for: her notes about the burglar. She really didn't know much, but every time she either heard her parents or the local radio talk about him, she wrote down everything she could. Granted, it wasn't much since she wrote rather slowly, but enough to look at and know that there was nothing to worry about.
Mummy then said something about needing vitamins or something, but Shirley ignored her, instead hopping out of bed and walking past her. She ignored her mother's calls of "Shirley! Shirley, come back here! I'm talking to you!" and went downstairs. Papa and Myrtle were in the kitchen, but she ignored them too. She just needed to be away from this stupid family for a while, so she stepped outside. She heard Mummy scream something, and then Papa's voice came out the kitchen window: "Don't go too far, dear!"
Shirley rolled her eyes. Who did her parents think she was? Some kind of idiot? Why would she even go further than just the front yard? Stupid-heads. With her nose practically buried in her notepad, Shirley reached the small swing set in the yard. Still old and rusty from underuse, she observed. Oh well, wouldn't hurt to sit down somewhere. The ground was damp anyway, and mum would have a fit if she stained her jammies. So she settled for the swing, still reading from her pad.
When Joan reached the gate of the house on the hill, the house looked even bigger. She wondered who all lived in it. After all, it was an awfully big house for a single person. There had to be others. The property that surrounded the house was a beautiful green. Joan even saw a peek of roses from behind the house. Her mind began to buzz with excitement as she pictured the house having a wondrous backyard.
Before she knew it, her feet were carrying her up the hill. She had seen these kinds of houses in movies. Period films where the women were in elegant frills and the men wore funny wigs. She imagined the house being lined inside with beautiful decor, antique furniture and bordered in gold. Joan's anticipation grew and grew as she pictured the garden, covered in every flower she could imagine.
Without realising it, her pace grew quicker until she circled around the large house. When Joan came to the backyard, she stopped in her tracks. Her hopes were dashed, for the garden wasn't as grand as she pictured. But her heart began to race when she saw a figure sitting on the swing of a swing set. It was a little girl. Joan instantly smiled.
Joan walked up to the girl, and noticed she had a notebook in her hands. "Hello!" she chirped.
Having been so caught up in her notes, Shirley hadn't even noticed that someone or something was slowly approaching her house. When the voice called, her head jerked up from her notepad and she began looking for the source. She didn't have to look for very long, though, as a small sandy-haired girl she had never seen before came skipping towards her.
Oh no. Who had they sent to annoy her this time? Some new, older kid, if the girl's height was any indication. Shirley frowned at the person, and then went back to going over her notes.
Hearing no immediate response, Joan felt a little put-off. Regardless, she walked straight up to the girl. She held her hands behind her back, and leaned towards the girl in curiosity, "Hello." She repeated. Now that she was closer, Joan noted the intense look on the girl's face. She looked very invested in her book, but it didn't detour Joan from trying to make a new friend.
Not even bothering to look up again, Shirley ignored the second greeting in favour of a question: "What'd they tell you to do?"
Her lips curved into a deep frown, "Sorry?" Joan blinked, as she stood upright. That was a strange way to greet someone. Joan wasn't sure what to make of it.
If she hadn't been so cranky, Shirley would have kept on being cryptic in order for this new girl to just admit why she was there. But she was in no mood to stall, so she went right to the point. "Anderson and Donovan," she said plainly, still not looking up. "Why'd they send you?"
Joan raised an eyebrow; "I don't know anyone by those names. I just moved in down the street," she smiled, lending the girl a hand, "I'm Joan-"
"I don't care," Shirley cut her off. "And you're obviously lying. Everyone who talks to me talks to Anderson and Donovan first to see what they should do. Because they hate me." She still kept her harsh monotone, as if she didn't care at all about what she was saying, but she couldn't ignore a small sting in her tummy at her last words.
Joan's jaw slacked, and her hand went back to her side. She could see that the girl was a bit rude, but who could honestly hate this small girl? Joan searched for something to say, "... Well I'm sorry to hear that, but I really don't know who you're going on about." She said.
Persistent, this one. Shirley finally looked up at the girl, and almost fell backwards out of the swing when she saw her eyes. She had never seen anyone look at her like that before, save for Mummy when she wasn't being annoying. Shirley just stared into the girl's (Were they blue? Green?) eyes, trying to read her expression like the men on the telly did. "So why are you here, then?"
Now that she had the girl's attention, she had a better look at her. Before anything, her eyes stood out the most. They were so light; Joan could not place the color. But this only intrigued her more. Joan smiled a bit, "That's what I've been trying to say. I just moved in down the street, and when I saw your house I wanted to get a better look." She shrugged.
"Oh." Shirley was able to break the gaze in order to look in the direction the girl (Joan? Was that her name?) must have meant. "The small brick house?" She needed to be sure. If this 'I just moved in' story was true, then surely this girl knew what she was talking about.
Joan nodded, "That's the one. It's just my mum, my brother and I." she explained.
Shirley was still looking in the house's direction. Okay, so the girl knew about the house. Maybe she really wasn't a minion of Anderson and Donovan's. "D'you do a lot of yardwork?" she suddenly heard herself asking.
Joan looked up in thought, "Dunno! Never really tried," she told her, "I came from the city. We never had much of a garden. Just an apartment with a few plants." she shrugged. This meeting was becoming more bizarre by the minute, but for some reason Joan was okay with that. At least it was interesting. And new. Joan liked new.
Hm. City. Ah, of course. Then the dirt on the girl's hands was probably from falling down on pavements or something. Or perhaps she had been helping out with moving and it was simply dust. Shirley would have to practice her observing skills some more. "Why did you move?" she asked as she looked back at her notes. She had a couple of guesses, but didn't want to utter them - she didn't want to be wrong twice in a row.
At that question, Joan grew a pained expression. "Um. Well. My parents separated. Mum wanted a new start. She's always told me that new is good." She explained with a weak smile.
Yes. That was one of her guesses. Well, she had used the term 'split up', but maybe this meant the same thing. "I wish my parents would separate," she mumbled as she flipped a page, wanting to use the same word. "My mummy's so annoying and I don't like her anymore."
"Oh..." That was all Joan could say. This girl seemed to be very smart, and very interesting. It took Joan a moment to realise, "Oh! My name is Joan Watson, by the way. What's yours?" She asked, as she offered her hand again.
Why was the girl constantly shoving her hand in Shirley's face? She ignored it, but looked up at Joan. "I'm... Shirley Holmes," she said, hesitating just a little bit because her mind still wasn't over the fact that someone had actually talked to her without having been prompted into annoying her.
Joan let her hand fall to her side again, but showed a large grin, "It's nice to meet you!" She told her. Joan was happy that she had met someone new. "Do you mind?" She asked as she gestured to the empty swing next to Shirley.
This was new. Not only was this girl - no, Joan - actually interested in talking to her, but also wanted to sit next to her? Wow. Anderson and Donovan would never go this far. "Not really," she replied and looked back on her notes. "It's a bit rusty, though."
Turning her attention to the swing, Joan observed the rust, "Hm. I can see that now." regardless, Joan sat down anyways. She let a small silence fall between them before looking back at Shirley, "So. What are you reading?" she asked.
"Just my notes. I like to look at them and see if I can find clues. Or, you know, pattners," she replied without looking up, flipping another page. "No, patterns. Sorry." Sorry? Well, at least Joan hadn't asked what it was about-
"Clues? Patterns? Is it like a game? What exactly are you taking notes of?" Joan couldn't help herself sometimes, as her curiosity knew no bounds. This was beginning to sound very interesting.
Joan seemed genuinely interested, if a bit too curious for Shirley's taste. She took a moment to decide if she should trust her. Normally, if kids asked her what she was up to and she told them, they would deliberately misinterpret it somehow and make fun of her for being 'weird' or 'a freak'. Stupid. But Joan seemed... different, for some reason.
"Do you know about the bulky burglar?"
Joan's eyebrows knitted together, "No. Who's that?" she asked.
"He's this big bloke who's been going around breaking into people's houses and taking all their stuff," Shirley explained. "He only goes into rich people's houses, and he never takes money or anything like that but just really valuable stuff like things that run in the family- err," she looked at her notes, "heirlooms, and- and if the people have kids, he goes for their books and toys and stuff."
She paused to observe Joan's face; she didn't seem to be waiting to laugh. "Mummy's scared of him," she added, unsure of why she did.
"That's terrible!" Joan cried, "So you have notes about him in your book?" she asked.
"Yeah, I try to listen when they talk about him on the radio or the telly or when my parents mention him," Shirley said. "And then I put it together like a line, like- like a room of info, and try to figure him out. I like to do that when I'm bored." And I get bored a lot. "I want to show this to the police, but they never listen 'cause I'm so little."
Then Joan got it, "You're like a private detective of sorts, aren't you?" She smiled. Joan had read plenty of detective stories, and they always came with some kind of sidekick. "Say, could I help you?" She asked.
Detective. That sounded awesome, actually. Maybe she was. "How can you help?" Shirley asked, sounding a little snappier than she really was.
Joan didn't like Shirley's tone, but she opened her mouth to answer, "Well for one thing-" Joan hesitated, "Two heads are better than one. Maybe if you have me around, I might be able to pick up things you might miss." She said.
Shirley frowned. "I don't miss things," she grumbled and looked back into her notepad, now not really reading anything; she just didn't want to look at Joan at the moment. "I'm clever. Probably cleverer than you, and you're like ten years old."
Joan felt insulted, but she could see that she was right. Joan didn't know much about the girl, but everything she had said so far pointed all the signs towards miniature genius. "Oh alright. I just wanted to help, that's all. I don't know how. It's just that, when I was in the city, everything was dull. Nothing ever happened to me. Nothing exciting, anyways." Joan admitted as she looked at her feet.
Shirley kept on focusing at nothing in particular, but there was something about the tone of Joan's voice that discomforted her. She sounded wrong, for some reason. Shirley had never heard anyone talk like that, not even Myrtle when she was being particularly annoying with her teenager stuff.
"Yeah, well... nothing exciting happens here either," she admitted, her voice a bit softer. Joan would probably appreciate that. "The bulky burglar doesn't even come to this neighborhood, and my Mummy is still scared of him. The only thing that happens here is-" No. She shouldn't. It would sound pitiful and pathetic, and the last thing she needed was someone else's pity.
Disappointment sat in Joan's gut. When Shirley stopped mid sentence, her curiosity rose again. "What?" she asked.
"Nothing, it's... not important."
Joan frowned and got up from the swing. "Well, I better get back to the house." She told Shirley without really looking at her. Joan didn't want to leave, but she knew her mum would be worried if she stayed any longer.
"Wait," Shirley said just before Joan started walking away. She couldn't tell her about it, but she could maybe give her hints. "Will you be going to the local school after the weekend?"
Joan looked at Shirley this time, "Yeah. I'm sure I will." she nodded.
Shirley bit her lip and looked down - not in her notepad this time, but at her feet. "Then you'll see what I mean."
Joan tilted her head in confusion, but still responded, "Alright. Well, I'll see you at school." She said as she turned away.
Shirley dared to look up when she saw that Joan had walked a fair distance. Her mouth twitched. Either this was the most genius and cruel plot Anderson and Donovan had ever put together (doubtful, since they were both idiots), or this Joan person was actually someone Shirley could imagine seeing more of. She decided on the latter.