I'm being the unfathomable procrastinator that I hate being (and I can no longer blame it on Mike, dangit). Sorry it took so long to post chapter three (even when it was already stored in the doc manager). I've had a couple of hectic weeks, and I'm just settling back into peace of mind. Thanks to the people who reviewed. Yes, they are only a few, but they really made my day, and that's what counts. And then again, it's a looooong story, so perhaps many more reviews are still to come (and I will love them too). Under-Cover Redhead, I can't answer your question, sorry. It will spoil future chapters. Be patient, tho.

Disclaimer: I am a humble writer; I do not claim ownership over any recognizable characters, places and events. I'm just borrowing, and I promise to give them back as soon as I'm done with them. I do however declare property rights over original characters, names, places and events. No profit is being made through this publication.

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The Beginning of the End

-by La Gioconda

Chapter Three – Breaking up the girl

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All throughout the next couple of days, Joan was mortified. Primarily because school had gone back to normal and teachers were giving them a hard time and tons of work as usual; also because she didn't feel things between her and Adam were going as smooth as they used to (and Joan couldn't help but feel it had something to do with a certain Italian transfer student). But mostly now because of the burden she was carrying and didn't know how to get rid of.

Staying away from Jordan was not as hard as she thought it would be; when the newbie wasn't surrounded by the senior student body, she was busy talking to the drama club president or the school newspaper chief editor or the girls' soccer team coach or Helen. In any case, Price didn't seem to notice Joan wasn't exactly doing her job one hundred percent, and God had stopped hounding her (or if He did, He must have changed His appearance). Even Helen hadn't asked her again after the one time she drew in her mini-questionnaire as soon as Joan got home from the drugstore (and Joan had been very monosyllabic in her answers).

On Thursday, after a very long day full of back-to-school pep rallies and meetings out of a half thousand pep rallies and meetings they had throughout the week, the gang plus the two newest additions settled on doing something relaxing after school. Like frapuccinos or at least lying on the grass in the park acting like they didn't have any work they were supposed to finish (or rather, start) for the next day.

They agreed to meet in front of Erika's building; when Joan and Luke arrived, Adam was already there. With Jordan(was she wearing the Ralph Lauren perfume? Joan wasn't sure). They stood around leaning against the wall of the next-door local, which looked like a beauty salon, closed at the moment. A few minutes later Grace showed up. But Erika was a non-show, and they had been ringing the intercom button for a while now.

"You know, I don't think she's home," Luke pointed out.

"No shit, Sherlock," Grace retorted.

"Are you sure you got the right address?" Luke asked Jordan.

"Absolutely. We dropped her off here the other day, didn't we, Joan?"

Joan avoided her eyes and her question. "This is pointless."

"Maybe she had to go out," Grace said.

"No, she didn't. Adam, just try ringing again," Joan commanded annoyed.

Adam wasn't looking at her. His eyes were fixed on something behind Joan. Joan turned to see what it was; Jordan was ripping off the "Push" sign from the glass door of the beauty salon. When she had the metallic plaque in her hand, she straightened it out a bit and put it in her purse. She looked nonchalantly at the others until she realized they were all staring at her wide-eyed. "What?"

Adam and Grace broke down into giggles and Luke and Joan continued to stare open-mouthed.

"I can't believe you just did that," Luke said with an evident smile on his face. Adam and Grace couldn't stop laughing. Joan couldn't see what was so funny.

"Um, I've always wanted one of these," Jordan answered innocently, patting her purse, and she winked.

"That was priceless, yo," Adam managed to say between gasps for air.

Joan couldn't believe it. Here Jordan was doing something wrong and dumb (no matter how small a deal it could be) and these idiots found it amusing. Of course they did; they didn't see what Joan had seen. They didn't witness Jordan stealing more than a stupid "Push" tag from a door. Even then, Joan couldn't bring herself to say anything.

"Oh, blimey," said someone behind them. They turned to find Erika pulling the door to her building open and stepping out, pulling along a tall boy with too-tanned skin, spiky brown hair and a piercing on his eyebrow. They smiled sheepishly. "Sorry to keep you waiting, little girls," Erika said, causing Luke and Adam to give her a weird look. "Big chaos up there. Not nice. This is Troy," she gestured to the boy beside her. He grinned with a set of perfectly-aligned white teeth and waved. "Yo," he said. Joan couldn't help but think he was very cute. For a moment she forgot about the vandalized door of the beauty salon.

The seven teenagers stopped at a coffee shop and bought frapuccinos (Joan wondered if Jordan would attempt to walk away without paying for hers), and then they walked around aimlessly until they reached the park, and they all dropped down on the grass, sipping on their drinks and talking about random stuff. Joan didn't feel like talking. She kept looking over at Adam and Jordan, who seemed to be sitting too close together, talking quietly.

Joan hadn't found a single chance to talk to Adam alone. She wanted to tell him it was getting on her nerves, all that talking he did with Jordan. Of course, she would never admit that she was jealous; especially not if it meant she was jealous of Jordan Canavaggio. She just wanted to know what exactly was it that Adam and Miss Venice discussed so privately all the time, and how come Adam was ignoring Joan all of a sudden.

Okay, so he wasn't exactly ignoring her. And it wasn't like she put a lot of effort on spending time alone with him. But it still felt like they were unconsciously drifting away from each other. And the amazing appearing act of Jordanwasn'thelping much either.

Besides, Joan constantly found herself thinking about the drugstore incident. She couldn't believe what she had seen, or that she hadn't done anything about it. Who was she supposed to tell? The obvious answer was Jordan, of course; she was the first person Joan should talk about this. That could either be the solution or make things a whole lot worse. After all, Joan had apparently found out about Jordan's presumed shoplifting problem before she even knew when Jordan's birthday was.

How could this girl be a shoplifter? She didn't look or act like a person who would be a shoplifter. Those were usually the type of people who did risky things all the time; like atomic surfing, smoking pot, or piercings and tattoos.

Of course, it turned out Jordan did have a thing for piercings and tattoos. Just that day they had been talking and they all had found out that Jordan had a tattoo on her lower back, a piercing on her tongue and an extra earring on the top of her left ear, all of which had been revealed when a stupid comment from Luke on Grace's semi-secret navel piercing sparked up a conversation about body art (and Joan couldn't be left out. She became the hot topic when she showed them the long-kept-secret tattoo on her right calf. Right now, she couldn't care any less about getting that kind of attention.)

Joan herself had a tattoo, alright, and she was definitively not the kind of person who would steal. Of course, she also didn't look like the sort of person who would have a tattoo. And anyone would think Jordan Canavaggio was traced along the same line. But, as Joan had found out, Jordan might as well be a walking-talking contradiction.

She was right to have a bad feeling about this girl.

At that moment, Adam apparently said something funny, because Jordan laughed and shoved him playfully by the shoulder. Joan looked disgusted. "I'm gonna go find a trash can," she said a little too loud and stood up. Even if there was a trash can right there, she walked right past it and headed for the path behind them.

"I thought we were through this," someone said, and Joan looked around trying to find the speaker. There stood a tall handsome man with curly dark hair topped with a black fedora hat, wearing the vest and pants of a tweed suit, which made him look like he had just stepped out of a 1940's New York-set movie. He was tinkering with a large format stand camera, and when Joan approached, he looked up and smiled.

"P-pardon?" Joan asked. He was very attractive, and she had trouble formulating full sentences or thinking straight. He pushed the hat out of his face.

"Jealousy. It does not suit you. I thought we had agreed on that," he replied. Joan immediately realized who it was and she ignored the fact that he was really hot.

"You look really odd, you know that?" she said, examining Him from head to toe. God crossed his arms and grinned charmingly.

"I like the outdated look. I think anachronism is cool," He countered.

"And didn't we agree you would not include the word 'cool' in your vocabulary?" Joan retorted.

"Why are you so upset all the time? Who can actually be in such a bad mood when the afternoon is this beautiful?"

"Yeah, beautiful," Joan said with a puff. "Just perfect. Perfect! Do you act like this exclusively to annoy me?"

"Like what?"

"Like you don't know what's wrong with me!"

"Why don't you elaborate?"

"Oh, okay. What were you thinking?!" Joan blurted out, startling a couple of old ladies sitting on a bench nearby. "Do you realize you just paired me up with a shoplifter? I thought you had demonstrated a strong position against that sort on your precious ten commandments. 'Thou shall not steal'. Does that ring a bell?"

"Of course," God was grinning as if He and Joan were talking pleasantly over drinks. Joan couldn't be half as mad at Him as she wanted because He looked so cute.

She sighed in defeat. "Then why make me hang out with a thief?"

"What kind of a friend are you?" God asked, disappearing under the black cloth, making Joan wonder if He was actually paying full attention to her.

"Friend? Are you referring to me as Jordan's friend? I am not her friend."

"Why not?" God took a few pictures.

"Because… she's new and…"

"Lonely." God said as he emerged from under the cloth. Joan shot him a look.

"She's not lonely. She's got the whole student body holding her up in a pedestal."

"You really like to look at things from your point of view, don't you?"

Joan gave Him a subdued version of "the stare" "How else would I look at it?"

"Because you become completely biased."

"I do not!"

"Tell me exactly why you don't like Jordan."

"Have you not heard a word I have said? She's a thief!"

"You know, it might just be a little more complicated than that."

"How complicated?"

"Did you know there are some six thousand million ways to look at a picture? It's because there are six thousand million different pairs of eyes to look at it, minus the percentage of people who have no sight," God said, and Joan rolled her eyes slightly and wondered where this was going. She also wondered if she dared interrupt Him to ask what the purpose was of having people in the world that had eyes but couldn't see.

"We can discuss that later if you want," God answered, reading Joan's mind.

"Maybe," Joan replied bluntly.

"There are many things that go into what a person sees with one glimpse at that picture," He continued. "A great part of it is what the person has gained through his or her own experience, through life. There is only one concrete story behind the picture, but many ways to interpret it. It depends not so much on the eye of the beholder, but on the mind. It's what you can discern from your own life story in that picture what makes you see it one way, and others see it many ways different from your own. It doesn't really matter who is closer to the truth and who isn't; the important thing is to keep an open mind, and try to see beyond what is there."

Joan was nodding involuntarily, because she was trying very hard to keep up. God seemed to notice that, and He tried to be plainer. "Everybody's got a story, like the picture has its own. Sometimes, not very often, it's plainer to see, and other times –most of the time— you have to look deeper. Just like you can't judge a book by the cover. And you can't judge a person by a first impression." God tipped His hat again. "I'm sure you remember what that was like when you first met Adam."

Joan nodded slightly at the mention of Adam. Obviously she couldn't carry on pretending she didn't care. "Are you saying Jordan's got a story? And I have to find it out?"

"I'm saying it's your choice. If you want to think she's a thief or you want to find out the why behind the whole situation. You either know her or you really know her."

"Okay, I get it," Joan put her hands up defensively. "Just tell me what I should do."

God grinned again. "Here's an idea. You could invite Jordan over to your house tomorrow. Maybe have her sleep over." Joan gave Him a horrified look, but He went on. "Make her feel welcome, like one of the group. But this should be just you and her. Spend the night doing girl stuff, like giving each other facials and talking." He punctuated the last word.

Joan made a face. "Talking," she echoed. God nodded. "What if she steals something from my house?" Joan asked.

"Well, it has happened before," God answered, and Joan knew He was referring to the time Clay Fisher stole her father's police chief badge right from her kitchen. She gave God that cocky knowing smile, but He shook his head. "However, that's not the case this time. I told you it's a bit more complicated."

Joan shrugged in defeat. "Fine. I'll ask her today."

God smiled in satisfaction and started packing up His camera. "You have vision, Joan Girardi. Don't let quick judgment or jealousy blur that vision." With that, He reaffirmed the hat on His head and walked off. Joan spun on her heel and headed toward the spot where her friends were still lazily lounging on the grass.

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The rest of the afternoon went by smoothly, while Joan formulated the way to casually invite Jordan to sleep over at her house, up to the point when she actually had to do it. She caught Jordan by herself and nearly made a fool of herself because she was tripping over her every word; it just felt so awkward. Jordan didn't seem to notice, though, because she smiled somehow gratefully and accepted right away. Then they all went home and Joan was left wondering what she was getting herself into.

Helen demonstrated great enthusiasm when Joan announced to her that she was having a "friend" over for the next day, when it turned out that this "friend" was Helen's best new art student. Apparently Jordan was quite the art history expert, what with being raised in the cradle of art, and Helen was just thrilled to have one of those in her class.

"Don't get me wrong; Adam is still one of my best students, and he's an amazing artist. But it's nice to find a serious art student with whom I can actually talk about all art in the broad sense of the word," she explained to her daughter, and then went off to spend the evening going over her mini library of art.

Friday morning, Joan noticed some random students were giving her weird looks, and she asked Grace what it was all about. Apparently word had gotten out that she had invited Jordan Canavaggio to spend the night at her house, and some people –the usual gossips who had nothing better to do than pummel the poor martyr souls roaming the hallways— were making speculations about that. Among the few insinuations that perhaps she had some romantic interest in the new girl, there were those much more coveted of Joan's frustrated quest for popularity reaching its peak with her desperate attempt to befriend the popular Jordan. Fortunately, Jordan had somehow stayed oblivious to that buzz, for which Joan was very relieved. It could have turned into the most embarrassing situation she had been in by far. And Joan had been in a lot of embarrassing situations.

The rumours seemed to subside nearing the end of the day, and of course Joan was glad, since she already had enough to deal with. Grace had been weird with her all day, too; there was something Adam said about Joan being Grace's only female friend, and it made her think: perhaps Grace was feeling left out. Joan never thought Grace could be the type of girl who actually liked things like sleepovers and the sort, but she was often wrong about things like that. What was she supposed to do, anyway? She had to talk to Jordan alone at some point. It was not as if she actually had this sleepover idea just for the fun of it. Of course, nobody knew that.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay? We'll do something," Joan called after Grace as the gang split to go to their respective homes. Grace didn't respond, just kind of waved over her shoulder and went away. Joan bit her lip. She had enough worrying about the Jordan issue, she couldn't handle being in a tight corner with Grace right now. Joan walked home trying to figure out just what exactly she and Jordan were supposed to do once Jordan came over.

She didn't have to worry much about that after all. Upon Jordan's arrival, she was abducted by Helen into the living room where they sat for hours talking about art, going over books and stuff. They didn't even notice when Joan disappeared into the kitchen to get a snack. Later, Will and Kevin got home from work at almost the same time, and Joan walked back into the living room to find Jordan flirting innocently with her older brother, who didn't seem to mind the attention at all. Joan dragged Jordan away, planning on setting a movie and letting the rest of the night pass by quietly, but Will swooped in and he and Jordan launched into a half-hour long conversation about Italy and everything that had to do with it. By the time they were done, Joan was tired and wanted to sleep, but she knew she had to have that talk with Jordan, and now she just wanted to get it over with.

"So… who is it that you live with again?" Joan began, wondering how on earth she would casually bump into the subject she had to discuss. They were now alone in Joan's room, and seeing as it was past eleven on a Friday, neither of them felt like doing much else, so they were getting ready for bed.

Jordan sat at Joan's bureau brushing her hair. "My mom and my sister, Giulia," she responded. She didn't seem in the mood for talking. Joan wouldn't blame her, after all the talking she had already done with her parents and Kevin.

"And how come you moved to the U.S.? Didn't you like it better in Italy?"

"Oh, yes, but..." Jordan said dismissively, "there are lots of things. Giulia decided to take a year off before she did her masters, and we like to travel, so we came with her. And… some other stuff…" She trailed off with a serious look and went back to brushing her hair, and Joan took it as a sign she shouldn't pry about that.

"I really like it here," Jordan continued after a long pause. "Arcadia is nice; it's quiet and peaceful and there's something decadent about it… in a good sense. It reminds me a lot of my neighbourhood in Venice."

"Really?"

"And the people are nice. Well, most of them. I mean, at least the people at school. And of course, you are really nice. Maybe the nicest person I've met here so far."

Joan smiled faintly. Oh, this was going to be weird.

"And of course, there's Adam," Jordan added. Joan instinctively frowned. She started feeling she just had to get it out of her system or she would explode.

"I don't know why, but it feels like nothing could go wrong in this town. I've had my share of disastrous adjustments to new cities, but somehow, I feel like now everything's going to be fine and—"

"I saw you," Joan blurted out. Jordan stopped mid-sentence and looked puzzled.

"What?"

"At the drugstore, I… I saw you." Joan began to fidget as she waited for Jordan's reaction, which was not at all what she had expected; the girl got a sort of deer-in-headlights look, but realization seemed to dawn on her and she looked sad.

"Oh…" she muttered, biting her lip. "I should've known."

Joan was perplexed. "Mm?"

"I sensed it, you know?" Jordan began. "I could feel I was being watched at that moment. And yet I went through with it. I tried to stop myself," she said almost apologetically. "I guess it was too tempting: no cameras, no detectors. How easier could it be?" She sighed and looked down at her lap. "For a moment there I thought I actually got away with it. I figured that, if you had seen me, you would've told on me or something."

Joan blinked hard. "Huh? Why would I do that?"

Jordan lowered her voice a notch and looked embarrassed. "Well, when we first met, I kind of got the feeling that… you didn't like me."

Joan tried not to be so surprised and keep herself from blushing. So Jordan wasn't so dense after all. "Oh, um… why- why would you think that?"

"I don't know. I guess I was wrong. I mean, you didn't tell on me, you invited me to spend the night at your house, and you're telling me that you saw me. If you didn't like me, you wouldn't bother to help me. And I appreciate it. And I'm really sorry I misjudged you." Jordan looked even sadder. Joan began to feel a little disgusted with herself.

"That's, um… just fine," she stammered. Jordan sighed, and Joan sighed, and the room was filled with tension, and Joan just wanted to get rid of that tension. She put on her friendliest smile and scooted to the foot of her bed, so that she was closer to where Jordan sat. "So… would you like to talk about it?"

Jordan looked up and she seemed relieved to see Joan was being understanding. "I don't know why I do it. I don't even know how I got started… I don't do it all the time. Sometimes it depends on the situation; sometimes it's too tempting, and I can't keep myself from doing it. And sometimes I don't even realize it until it's too late."

Joan was baffled. It could only mean one thing. "They have a name for that, don't they?"

Jordan let out something between a chuckle and a sigh. "If you're thinking of the term kleptomania, then yes… that's exactly what I am…"

So this is what is so complicated about it, Joan mused to herself. "Does anyone else know about this?"

Jordan hesitated for a moment. "My friend Dante. He's known me all his life; he's the one who pointed out what I was doing. I hadn't even realized it before he told me."

Again, Joan was baffled. "And… have you told anyone else? Or at least thought about it?" For a split second, Jordan was petrified.

"Not really. If I tell my mom, I don't know what she would do about it. Maybe she'll find me a psychiatrist, or have me interned, and I don't need that. I don't think I could handle that." She looked worried all of a sudden. Joan didn't know how to go from there.

"Maybe you do need it," she said, then mentally kicked herself. That didn't sound very sensitive. Jordan shook her head, frightened at the very prospect.

"No… I swear it's not as bad as it sounds. I can handle it myself, I just need some help." She seemed trapped. "When I was with Dante, he helped me. And even when we were apart, he checked up on me. He was something of a long-distance therapist to me; but I haven't spoken to him in a while." She looked sad again. "Maybe that's why I've been stealing again. I guess I have forgotten what it's like to have that sort of support…"

Joan bit her lip insecurely. "But wouldn't professional help be—"

"No!" Jordan exclaimed. "Joan, I don't need to go to a shrink. I'm telling you, I'm not that bad. I just need support. I need someone to remind me that I can stop myself from stealing." She sighed deeply. "Otherwise, if I keep doing this, I'm going to get in real trouble one day, with the law." She suddenly was aghast. "Your father is a cop, isn't he?"

"I'm not telling him, Jordan, don't worry," Joan answered with a wry smile, making Jordan grin sheepishly. Joan cleared her throat and considered carefully what she was about to say. She realized then what it was that God had actually meant for her to do.

"Maybe I… could help you," she began hesitantly. "You know… like your friend Dante used to do."

Jordan's face was blank, making Joan impatient. Was this how this whole thing was supposed to be going? The girl's expression turned to insecurity. "Why would you want to help me?"

Joan thought back to her conversation with God in the park, and she realized what He had meant: there was so much more to this girl who appeared to get anything she could ask for. Beneath her façade, Jordan was just a regular girl who had moved away from home to a whole new place and she felt lonely, and she had problems with which she could not deal alone.

This time, Joan's friendly smile was real. "Because that's what friends are for."

Jordan and Joan looked at each other for a long time, an evident smile on both of their faces. Something was being settled between them, like an unspoken bond. This was a secret between the two, and it would remain that. Jordan didn't even have to ask. And Joan agreed to it, and she didn't even have to say it out loud, either. She wasn't sure if this established a formal friendship bond between them, but it was good enough for now.

Promptly, Joan broke the eye contact and slid backwards on the bed so that she could get under the covers. "Well, now that that's settled, I guess we can call it a night. I'm tired," she said, breaking into a yawn. Jordan nodded and went to get into bed too. She settled back onto the mattress with a sigh.

"Ooh, this is one comfy bed," she murmured. Joan looked over at her and smiled. Suddenly it wasn't so weird to have Jordan spend the night; she realized she hadn't had a sleepover in years. It seemed she would have forgotten what it was like to have a close girlfriend with whom she could do this sort of thing. This was nice.

"Yes, that's the main reason why sleeping is my favourite hobby," she responded. Jordan let out a chuckle, then got serious again.

"You know, not many people would be so cool about befriending a kleptomaniac after knowing what they are," she said as Joan turned off the lamp on her nightstand.

Joan grinned thoughtfully. "Um, I guess that's accurate."

"Thank you for giving me a second chance."

"Don't mention it."

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Mike: And they lived happily ever after.

Alexz: You're taking the mickey out on me and I don't appreciate it.

[ In the darkness ]