Mike promised that, when he comes visit me in Italy later in May, we'll put up a special chapter written by both (trust me, I will not have been done with this fic by then, I still have a looong way to go).

Disclaimer: Don't own any recognizable characters. Original characters belong to me. This is a non-profit publication. No class action lawsuit, please. I do not want to have to screw up your lives (and I mean that politely).

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The Beginning of the End

-by The Chemist and his associate

Chapter Two – The beautiful occupation

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By lunch hour, Joan had already become convinced she didn't like the new girl at all, and she never would, and she was just hoping God would show up and tell her there had been a mistake and she didn't have to be this girl's guide anymore. In the meantime, she had to do what Price told her. After sitting with Jordan in homeroom, Joan had to show her to her first class, and then sit through AP Chemistry with Adam next to her, trying really hard not to smack him at first. He had been all smiles and sweetness when he'd seen her, acting like nothing. He didn't say a word about what she had seen in the hallway, and for some reason, Joan couldn't ask him. She was so glad to see him and talk to him that she forgot why she was mad at him in the first place. That is, until second period: English Literature. Jordan was there. And in the next three periods. Joan even had to be with her during recess. They barely talked, as Jordan mostly spent her time investigating school activities she was interested in, such as the drama club, sports teams, the school newspaper and a whole bunch more (Joan wondered where the newbie expected to get the time to do all that); and Joan didn't feel like talking, anyway. She came across God, still in freshman-boy form, several times in the hallways, and gave Him deadly glares. Obviously He was letting her know He was keeping an eye on her ("I know you're freaking omniscient, you don't have to hound me around like this," she had hissed at Him near her locker the first chance she got), and it was getting on her nerves.

Before sixth period, Joan realized Adam had art next, and Jordan was with him in that class; it was the only one (so far) Adam and Jordan had together and in which Joan wouldn't be. Not good. Hopefully her mom would keep her daughter's best interests at heart and keep an eye on Adam. Although Helen seemed very friendly toward Jordan, too. And Helen would never think Adam would give Joan reasons to be jealous. That's what happens when your boyfriend and your mother get along too well, Joan thought sourly to herself. Helen seemed to defend Adam more often than she would her own daughter. Dear sweet Adam, who would never ever give me reasons to be jealous…  Joan's grip tightened around the strap of her bag again.

"Aren't Italians supposed to have that dark look? You know: dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin?" she was rambling as she and Grace walked down the hallway after Calculus, meeting Luke on his way out of Physics. "I don't think she's really Italian. I think she only said she was to make herself interesting."

"That's the Mediterranean race, they are dark and tanned. Jordan Canavaggio is from Venice, which is in Northern Italy. The people from that region are generally Caucasian. They tend to lighter skin, eyes and hair. Like the French and the Swiss—"

"Okay, Luke."

"Just be glad she's at least not joining the cheerleading squad. As long as she stays away from them, we're okay. Otherwise I'm not hanging out with you when you're with her."

"Very supportive, Grace."

"Silence, geek."

Luke shoved Grace slightly for that comment, and Grace responded by pulling him into a headlock. Joan rolled her eyes at their juvenile antics, their bizarre way of showing their mutual affection. They entered the cafeteria and got their trays of food and sat at their usual table.

"Why did you volunteer, anyway? Heck, I hadn't even heard about that guide thing until you got the bright idea," Grace asked. Joan did her typical don't-ask-don't-tell wave of hand.

"Meanwhile, if I find out you've joined some ultra-defective a.k.a 'trendy' activity this year, I'm not sponsoring our friendship anymore," Grace continued. "If we have to go through another bout of your bizarre social status experiments, such as your cheerleading interest, I won't be able to stomach it."

"Don't worry, it won't fit into my résumé if I really want to become a nun after I graduate," Joan answered. She caught Grace staring at her in her usual fashion. "I knew that comment would get me 'the stare'."

"'The stare'? What 'stare'?"

"When you do that thing with your eyes," Joan smirked knowingly. "It looks like you're either trying to control my mind or else make your eyes shoot out of your head just so you can freak me out."

"Oh, that 'stare'!" Luke said in understanding. Grace turned to him, only making Luke chuckle. "Yeah, there it is!" he added, pointing at her face. The stare morphed into murderous glare. Luke recoiled.

Joan looked up from the gooey mashed potatoes scoop on her plate and saw Adam walk in. With Jordan. And a few other students: Lizzie Johnson, student body president; a black-haired girl that looked like she was new; Friedman, Glynis and a couple of guys Joan knew were in art class; all talking animatedly and laughing. Joan followed Adam and Jordan with narrowed eyes, as they stood in line with all the others. They got their trays, and came over to Joan, Luke and Grace's table, with the exception of Lizzie and the two nameless art students, who went another way.

"Hey, you guys remember Jordan, right?" Adam said as he sat at the heading of the table. Jordan sat across from Joan, and the other girl plopped down beside her.

"Do we get a choice?" Joan mumbled to herself. No one heard her. "In any case," she spoke up, "Jordan, Grace, Luke, Friedman, Glynis, Adam," she pointed at each as she mentioned them. "And I'm Joan."

"Okay, well, this is Erika Weston," Jordan gestured to the girl beside her. She was tall, with blunt-cut chin-length black hair with bangs, bright blue eyes fringed with dark eyelashes and extra eyeliner, and a tiny silver stud on her nose. She wore green cargoes and a grey t-shirt that read "Grand Tomahawk/ it's going down June 2004" in bold black letters.

"Yo," Erika muttered, unfazed. Grace gave her "the stare".

"Erika is from Sydney, Australia."

"Ooh, down under. How cool," Glynis said with a smile. Erika gave her the once-over and raised an eyebrow. Joan bit her lip.

"Anyway," Jordan continued with a wave of her hand, "her guide is Lizzie Johnson."

"Oh, yeah, el Presidente," Friedman said. "What a drag."

"I've never been in a school that has a system like yours, with a student council and all," Jordan commented.

"How many schools have you been in?" Joan asked curiously.

"Four in the last six years." Everyone gave her a wide berth look. "Three years in Venice, one in Florence, one in London, and one in Edinburgh. All private catholic schools. Which is quite a bugger if you're an anarchist, like me." Everyone nodded in unison. Grace raised her eyebrows in slight surprise.

"I was the president once," Erika put in with her thick Aussie accent. "But I was forced to abdicate when the headmaster threatened to expel me after I passed an amendment to eradicate the male rugby team, and switched the mascot for a real live animal."

"Oh, yeah, what was the team mascot?" Luke asked.

"A wallaby."

"How awesome!"

Erika shook her head. "Not really. Made my life hell, the faculty did. Bloody fascists," she murmured under her breath and clenched her fist on the tabletop. Joan glanced around the table, at the science geeks and the sub-defectives all sitting at one table. If this wasn't the weirdest combo she'd ever seen…

"So, how about those two, eh? They're hot," Friedman was saying. He, Glynis and Luke were trailing behind Joan and Grace through the hallways after the bell rang to end lunch hour and they left the cafeteria to go to a pep rally in the gym.

Grace glanced at Friedman over her shoulder. "Are you by any chance referring to Arcadia High's brand new outcasts?"

"Outcasts? Jordan and Erika are more popular than those in the right cliques right now, and they only just got here. They've obviously got their something," Luke said. Joan shot him a look, but he didn't see her.

"Yeah, they're hot." Friedman added.

"Dude, it's not just because of that."

"But they are."

"I know that, but they're also, I don't know… they have something else."

"They're foreign."

"You two need to get a life and stop drooling over the fresh meat," Grace scolded them.

"Drooling? There's no drooling," Luke retorted. He glanced at Friedman, who seemed to be experiencing excessive salivation. Luke rolled his eyes. "Well, not from my part."

"Okay, only a few more hours, and the day is over, and I can go home and forget about everything," Joan announced as she and Grace approached the gym entrance.

"Don't be so sure, Joan," a voice said next to her. Joan stopped in her tracks and looked at the person who had spoken. A stout woman in a long, thick brown overcoat and a woolly grey scarf tied up to her chin stood in the corner, rummaging through a tattered shoulder bag. Joan wouldn't have done a double-take if she didn't already suspect who she was.

"What now? Shall I place an application for an international exchange program?" she asked, forgetting Grace was standing right there, waiting for her. "Umm, you go ahead, I'll be there in a sec," Joan said t to her, and Grace gave an odd stare in God's direction before she entered the gym.

"So, how are things with Jordan? Everything cool?" God asked, looking up from Her bag.

"You should know, right? And don't say the word 'cool', it's not very 'cool' coming from you," Joan retorted.

"Are you going to start having a better attitude toward your position? You're not doing a very good job, you know you could do better," God was saying, and Joan was rolling her eyes over and over. "If Price notices, you could get in trouble with him."

"Yeah, Price… what's with him anyway? How come he's nice to Jordan? Is it because she's new? Because he was never nice to me when I first got here; he was plain mean, just like I've always known him to be."

"This is not about Price, is it?" God asked with an impatient sigh, as if She were dealing with a five-year-old.

"Again, you should know."

"Well, I do, and since you do, too, then what we have to figure out is what you're going to do about it."

Joan made sure no one was around, but she spoke in a low hiss anyway. "I don't have to do anything, okay? You insist that I have a choice; well I choose not to do anything about anything, because every time I do, I never get it right. And frankly, I'm done with that. You're the one who set me up with Jordan, you tell me what I have to do. I'm not freaking psychic."

God didn't recoil, even though Joan appeared to be fuming. "Just do what you think is the right thing to do. See you later, Joan," She said, and walked off. Joan did her best imitation of "the stare", but it was no use, because God wasn't facing her. She counted to ten in her mind and went inside the gym.

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 "Ah, I thought this day would never be over," Luke was saying, stretching out his arms in sign of tiredness. He, Joan, Adam, Grace and Erika stood outside in the grounds as the school building emptied after the dismissing bell rang. They were waiting for Jordan, who was talking with Helen just inside the double doors.

Joan dropped her bag beside her and plopped onto the grass. "What are you talking about? We still have a whole freaking afternoon, and can you believe all the homework we got? There should be a law against giving us assignments on the first day!" she responded.

"We got one chemistry assignment and one English lit, Miss Drama Queen. What are you whining about? It could be worse," Grace asked. Joan glared at her.

"Don't pass judgement, James Dean."

"So, Erika, where do you live now?" Adam asked, trying to divert the others from any bouts of dumb pointless bickering.

"I'm on the 18th with my dad, his girlfriend, Sam, and her son, Troy," Erika answered nonchalantly as she toyed with the dog tags she was wearing as a belt," who also happens to be this guy I know since we were ten. It's sort of complicated."

"Why? Because your parents are dating?" asked Joan.

"No, because we were dating."

Joan didn't know what to answer to that. "Oh," she put mildly.

"So you're not dating Troy anymore, I presume?" Luke said.

"Technically, yes, but our parents don't know it. Anyhow, Troy and I are plotting to break them up," Erika replied. The others gave her odd looks, and she shook her head. "Oh, no, it's okay. They make a terrible couple, trust me. Dad only does it to spite mum, but mum is too much into her own little world to actually care. Right now she's probably in some fashion show in Milan, buying an absurdly expensive bizarre Jean-Paul Gautier dress that later she will try to make me wear. But oh well, better to deal with her than with Sam. No offence to Troy, but his mum's a real nutter."

Grace whistled and tried not to smile. "Oh well, guess I won't be complaining about my family anymore."

"It's like something out of The Parent Trap, only backwards," Luke commented. Grace gave him an odd stare, and Luke blushed. "Not that I'd know, really. Never watched that movie," he added quickly.

Joan was about to counter that point, when she heard her mom say goodbye. She turned around to respond, when she realized Helen had been calling out to Jordan, who was coming their way, waving back to Helen. Joan frowned and sighed. "Hey, riddle me this: what's new, pinstriped and annoyingly popular?" she asked in a sarcastic voice.

"Alex Rodriguez in his new Yankees uniform?" Erika tried. Joan looked at her questioningly. Erika smirked and shrugged. "Sorry. Baseball fan." Joan raised an eyebrow and didn't reply as she grabbed her book bag and stood up. Jordan appeared beside her.

"Sorry I kept you waiting. I was going over some stuff about art class with Mrs. Girardi," she apologized. Joan cringed at the sound of her surname. She didn't like the way Jordan pronounced it; it was too… Italian. Though she realized how ridiculous that was. After all, her surname was Italian.

"Well, I'm off," Grace announced. "Dentist appointment. If I leave now…" she glanced at her watch and shrugged. "Whatever, I'm still gonna be late, so see ya," she waved and shuffled away. Luke started to leave too.

"I'm going too. Friedman and I have business to attend to," he said.

"I'm just going to go home," Erika said. "If I get there now, I can leave and stay away longer."

"Can I go with you? You live on the 18th, right? There's a bookstore and a drugstore there. I thought I'd go and hang out there for a while," Jordan said.

"Why don't you go home?" Adam asked.

"They're polishing the floors. Big mess. Too much noise."

"Oh, then," Adam began, turning away from the other two and facing Joan, "why don't you go with her? You know, to keep her company," he suggested.

Joan tried her best not to give him a deadly glare. "Why would she need my company? I'm sure she knows her way around town," she replied.

Adam gave her an innocent smile, and Joan found herself unable to say no. "Well, you are her student guide, so I thought maybe this would help the two of you bond. You know, get to know each other better. Maybe the two of you could be friends, since you seem to get along fine already."

Oh, dear sweet naïve Adam, ever the oblivious one, Joan thought privately. She did her best to smile sincerely at him. "Well, you're coming with us, right?"

"Nah, I can't, sorry. I promised my dad I would help him paint the kitchen."

Joan's face fell.

"Have a good time," Adam said. He waved goodbye to the girls and left. Joan stared after him disappointed, then back at Erika and Jordan, looking expectantly at her.

So the day wasn't over after all. And it had just gotten a whole lot longer.

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Joan surveyed the makeup stands in the drugstore, trying to remember why she was there in the first place. Oh yeah, goopy mascara. Need new one. But then there was the question of why she was there with Jordan.

Being nice to her, she thought to herself. Or at least pretending.

After walking Erika home (and witnessing a very weird scene from outside the lobby, involving a fuming Erika and whom Joan and Jordan presumed was the father's girlfriend, Sam, bickering over the dozen shopping bags Sam showed up with, as they got in the elevator), Joan walked with Jordan down to the drugstore to pass the time looking at magazines and hair products. They would have stopped at Skylight library, but Joan avoided going in there, otherwise Sammy would ask her to fill in for him for the afternoon, and what Joan really wanted was to get rid of Jordan as soon as possible, so she could finally go home and not do homework.

She picked up a Maybelline black brown mascara and read the package. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jordan skimming the perfume section.

Why her? Out of all people, why did God pair her up with Jordan Canavaggio, Miss Italy 2004, queen of the transfer students? That God worked in mysterious ways was a fact Joan was reluctantly learning to accept. However, if He would only explain Himself sometimes, maybe Joan would be better at what she did, and maybe she would carry out her tasks with a better attitude. But all He did was tell her what to do, leading her with only hints. And they weren't even good hints; He could be so ambiguous that no one but Him could figure Himself out. So half the time she felt disoriented and even a little scared; kind of like walking blind-folded around a furniture store.

Joan watched Jordan pick up different testers and smell them. She smiled pleasantly as she sniffed some Clinique Happy. Joan stared at her oddly.

Maybe she shouldn't judge this girl too quickly. After all, she barely knew her. It was just that she had been so ticked when she saw her being so chummy with Adam; it still ticked her, because they had been so chummy throughout the day, and Joan couldn't figure out why. But that didn't mean anything. Why would it? Adam barely knew Jordan, too. They had just met, and Adam was just being nice to her because she was new. Yeah, that was it.

In any case, God hadn't said anything about having to be friends with Jordan. But Joan knew she had to start being nicer to her, even if it killed her. Maybe she would actually like her. Even if little miss Seventeen fall issue cover turned out to be a bigger snob than she seemed at first glance.

And even then, Jordan seemed to be a nice snob. Polite, outgoing and friendly. If sub-defectives, like Adam and Joan herself, apparently were good enough to hang out with her, then she definitively couldn't be that bad.

Joan kept watching Jordan, while trying to choose between the Maybelline and the Cover Girl mascaras. Jordan examined a bottle of Ralph Lauren Ralph in her hand.

And dropped it into her bag.

Joan's eyes grew the size of dinner plates, and she looked away.

She had barely seen it. It was done so swiftly and quickly, it was almost imperceptible. But she knew what she saw.

Did Jordan really just do what Joan just saw her do? This was… awful and very strange, and Joan's head began to swirl. What was going to happen now? What would she say to Jordan? What would Jordan say to her? Would she say anything at all, or would she think Joan hadn't even seen her?

Joan snuck a peek out of the corner of her eye. Jordan was back to looking at the other bottles. No clerk was nearby, no one came around to check on them. Nothing happened. Joan would have thought a bunch of sirens would have been wailing by now, and cops swirling into the scene. But nothing happened.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, she thought over and over again, unable to move. Maybe that would actually summon God and he'd get her out of there. She had to get out of there. There was no way she was leaving the store with Jordan.

She started thinking really hard and really fast, as Jordan came around and started skimming the makeup section, too. Maybe Joan had only seen Jordan take the Ralph Lauren. What if she had a whole bunch of stuff in her purse? What if Jordan actually dared to take a lipstick or something right under Joan's nose? And what the hell would Joan do then?

"Joan, we can go now if you like, I've taken up enough of your time," Jordan said, breaking the silence. Joan was startled, but she managed a weak smile.

"Uh… yeah, I—I just got to… pay for this," Joan stuttered. You idiot! What if she suggests you put it in her purse, so you don't have to pay for it?!

Why did she do it? Why on earth would Jordan Canavaggio steal? She didn't seem like that kind of person. Then again, Joan thought as she walked like a zombie toward the cashier, Joan wasn't very good with first impressions, as she had come to realize over the past years. And Joan had just been thinking to herself that Jordan, at first glance, gave the impression of being nice and nearly perfect.

"Eight dollars and ninety cents. Would you like a bag?"

Joan didn't answer the clerk right away. She was staring in fear and shock as Jordan walked toward the exit with a sort of natural determination, right in front of the clerks.

Great! Now the detector is gonna start beeping like crazy!

Joan then realized there was no detector at either side of the door. What kind of store doesn't have a freaking detector? she thought unnerved, as Jordan stepped outside and grinned at her through the glass door. Should I tell her I saw her? Should I tell the clerk, anyone? Do I dare to just play dumb? Police officer daughter play dumb in front of a crime?

Unable to utter a word, Joan took her change and the tube of mascara in the small plastic bag the clerk handed her with a smile. Stepping slowly, she followed Jordan out and didn't meet her eyes or spoke again until they went their separate ways.

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Alexz: more coming soon.

Mike: Is that all you're going to say?

Alexz: I don't have your God-given gift of babbling.

--Sebastian Melmoth--

[ In the darkness ]