12. Dealing With the Burdens

Authors Note: I was thinking about ending with that chapter, but I didn't want to stop writing this story. I haven't finished yet. There'll probably be two or three more chapters.

I would also just like to say, the next three chapters are some of the weirdest things I have ever written. You have been warned..

Two weeks had past since the art show, and Joan no longer had her cast, nor did Grace have her crutches. The gossip about the fire had died down and eventually been forgotten, although it would live in the memories of the nine students that had made it out for the rest of their lives. Chemistry that day was one of the many reminders of the fire they would be receiving that week.

"You light it," Joan told Adam.

"Dude," Adam said, giving the match to Grace. Grace looked at the burner.

"Honestly I could live without lighting it either."

"Well, one of us has to," Joan told them. Grace looked at the match in her hand.

"I guess I'll do it," she said, striking the match and lighting the burner quickly, then put the match out.

"It's weird having a fire phobia now," Joan said. "So, study group at my place tonight?"

"I can't, yo. I sold my sculpture and I've got to move it over to they buyers house."

"You aren't gonna drop out of school, are you?" Joan asked, worried.

"No," Adam told her. Joan nodded then looked at Grace.

"What about you? You in?"

"Can't. I've got to go to an.. ugh.. family dinner," Grace said.

"They aren't that bad," Joan told her.

"You've never met my family," Grace said. "Rove can tell you, they're scary."

"Unchallenged."

*

Joan walked down the street, taking a sip of her slurpie. For a May night in Maryland, it was abnormally cold. As Joan turned onto her street the very faint scent of smoke drifted towards her. She didn't think anything of it, just figured someone was cooking outdoors. It may be cool out, but it was still May. As Joan got closer to her house, the smell became stronger. She finished off her slurpie and tossed the cup in someones trash can. Joan reached her house and began to walk up the driveway when she noticed that the smoke was coming from the house. She ran up the driveway and to the front door, where there was a note taped to it. 'Gone to Kevin's game, be back later. - mom, dad, Luke and Kevin'. Joan pulled it off the door and opened it, walking in. She scanned her living room for the source of the smoke. Nothing. She walked into the kitchen when she found it. Someone had left something in the oven. Joan carefully turned off the oven and walked back into her living room, watching the smoke go out the open front door.

"That's it. This is a fire clearance," Joan said, closing the door and walking upstairs. She began to pick up all her candles and threw them into a bag along with her match book and lighter. She continued going through the rooms, getting everything that could start a fire and throwing it into a garbage bag. When she got to Luke's room she realized how crazy she was acting. She threw the bag on Luke's bed and sat down on his chair, when Cute Guy God walked into his room.

"Hello Joan," he said.

"What's wrong with me?" Joan asked God.

"Nothing's wrong with you Joan," God told her.

"Then why am I doing this? Why have I been so paranoid? Why have I been so mean?" Joan asked him.

"You're having a normal reaction to what happened Joan."

"But I can't even remember it! I had a dream, but it was just a dream, it's not like it was real," Joan told him.

"You were remembering the fire the only way your mind would let you."

"Well, why didn't the fire effect anyone else? Why just me? Why is everyone else still fine?"

"You don't know they are Joan. People hid things they don't want to deal with."

"So what's my assignment? Make them fess up? Start a support group?"

"Go talk to your friends. They've all got their own burdens, some because of the fire, some not. Listen to them, and put the candles back," God told her. Joan laughed.

"Okay, fine. Any suggestions on who I should talk to first, your... almightiness?" Joan asked, but God was already gone.

*

Joan knocked on the door to Grace's house and waited for an answer. It opened and a blond girl who looked about thirteen or fourteen answered.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Um.. hey.. is Grace here?" she asked.

"She snuck out back a half hour ago. Said we were all giving her a headache. Why?"

"I'm a friend, I just wanted to talk to her," Joan said.

"Wow. A friend. That's a step up from last year. But feel free to go find her. She's in one of her death to all moods though," the girl told Joan.

"She's always in a death to all moods," Joan said, walking down the steps. She walked around to the side of the house and opened up the gate. Grace was sitting on a table up on the porch.

"Hey," Joan said, walking onto the porch.

"I told you not to come by without being invited. Did you not process that?" Grace asked. Joan jumped up on the table next to her.

"Sorry. I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about anything."

"I'm at a family dinner," Grace told her.

"No you're not. Your sitting on a table in your back yard while the rest of your family is at a family dinner."

"I hate my family," Grace told her.

"You hate everything Grace," Joan said.

"I do not," Grace said.

"Well, it seems like it sometimes," Joan told her.

"That's just the way I am Girardi. And why do I feel like I'm about to become the next contestant on the Joan Girardi's mission to help people show?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"All that crazy stuff you do, cheerleading, the semi-formal, debate team, you always end up trying to help someone," Grace pointed out.

"Sometimes people just need someone to talk to," Joan said.

"So go talk to Rove. He still has burdens he hasn't shared with you, bug him," Grace said.

"Everyone has burdens. And he isn't home."

"Who even let you back here?"

"I don't know, some girl," Joan said.

"Chole probably. She has this insane idea that if I get friends I'll be nice to her."

"Why aren't you nice to her? Or anyone for that matter?"

"No comment," Grace said, getting off the table and walking into her house.