You'll have to excuse me, people. I had to take a break from writing this. I've been having the worst time of my life (since the last time I had the worst time of my life, of course), because I was writing about something that suddenly became very close to home. That's all I wanted to say, it's been a very emotional couple of months, but everything is (very slowly) going back to normal, and I can finally sit down and continue with this. (Parenthesis here, I want to give a huge thanks to my amazing friends/ beta readers, Mike and Anne, and my good friends, Jake, Joey, Harry, Kasz and Vero, for all the support they managed to give me even though we're miles apart. Million thanks, my friends. I love you.)
Disclaimer: Joan of Arcadia and all of its characters, places, etc, belong to Barbara Hall and CBS. Original characters, places and situations belong to me and the people upon which I have based these characters and places. The USA Freedom Corps is a federal service program, so it belongs to the goverment of the United States. And in the end, everything belongs to Almighty God.
What was playing on my cd players while writing this: Emilie Simon's "Flowers", Green Day's "Boulevard of broken dreams", Hotel Costes Volume 2, The Corrs's "Hide away", Pastora's "Un cuaderno lleno de cuentos", From Autumn to Ashes's "Autumn's Monologue", the song from the Kenzo Flower perfume commercial, Sum 41's "Slipping away", and Keane's "Eyes open" .
Chapter brought to you courtesy of Gabriel García Márquez, my new coconut-smelling aromatherapy candle crafted in a coconut shell, , the smell of pine tree and brand new Christmas tree decorations, tofu cream cheese, my mom's eggnog and fruitcake, the stress of the holiday season, Amor Amor by Cacharel, too many mochachinos in one day every day, a bowl of Cheerios and a packet of gum.
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The Beginning of the End
-by La Gioconda
Chapter Nine – They rebuilt the Coliseum in Arcadia City
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They had only been back to school for a week and a half, and Joan found herself already begging for winter break to come. Her mind was in low-usage mode during AP Chemistry one Thursday morning, barely focusing on what the teacher was saying, as she watched, hypnotized, the hands of the clock ticking away at snail speed. Adam didn't seem to be paying much attention, either, as he was doodling away on his notes, and Grace was muttering to Joan about something irrelevant, saying they had to do something about Jordan, who apparently had taken up a very bad habit of eating American junk food more than anything else.
"There's something really wrong with her. I mean, who trades an authentic Italian bologna sandwich for a freakin' Hot Pocket!"
"Grace, I thought you were all for free trade," Joan answered mindlessly, her eyes glazing over from staring unblinkingly at the clock on the wall.
"I would have to agree with Mr. Polk. Sweet Jordan's digestive system mustn't adapt to this sort of crap. It would be deadly for her," Friedman voiced in his ridiculous dramatic tone, obviously having boldly been eavesdropping on the conversation.
"It will be deadly for you too, you parasite, if you don't vanish this instant," Grace threatened, leaning forth on her seat. Friedman instinctively recoiled and turned back to his book. Luke looked over his shoulder at Grace, meeting her gaze for a brief moment before he turned to the front again, too.
"Why are you so interested in what Jordan does to her digestive system?" Joan asked, shutting her eyes hard; they had finally started stinging. It felt stupid to talk about an alleged eating disorder (according to Grace) when Jordan Canavaggio had so much bigger stuff going on in her life. Although it wasn't as if Joan could just slap Grace across the face and tell her about that stuff.
"Because it's disgusting and weird," Grace countered. "She's from Italy; that's like the world capital of gastronomic sensibility. And now she's going to transform herself into a Jack-in-the-box regular."
"She's a big girl, Grace. She should be able to put whatever she wants in her mouth and deal with the consequences. What's it to you?"
"Why do I have to have a reason for everything?"
"Why do you two always argue about such trivial things?" Adam interjected all of a sudden. He went back to doodling, and Grace and Joan looked at him, then at each other, and didn't speak again until the bell rang and they all went outside the building to catch some fresh air and eat on the grass.
"Mozzarella in carozza?" Erika offered in a phony Italian accent, as she joined the gang on one side of the stone steps. She held out a yummy-looking sandwich wrapped in a red cloth.
"And what is that?" Luke inquired, eyeing the sandwich with interest.
"Fried cheese sandwich."
"Oh. Guess the name really gives it something else," Luke said, looking rather disappointed.
"You're a scientist. You shouldn't judge something by its name," she countered.
"Good point," Luke said, and gladly took a bite. "Mmmm…" he went. "That's no regular fried cheese sandwich."
"Where'd you get it?" Grace asked, frowning.
"Jordan traded in for a bag of Lays," Erika replied with a smirk, taking a huge bite herself.
"I'm telling you, she must be stopped," Grace said seriously, with all the air of a plotting activist. Joan rolled her eyes and looked around. Where was Jordan, after all? She hadn't seen her all morning, and hadn't seen much of her either the last couple of days; at least not since Joan had blurted out she knew about Jordan's dad. She hoped Jordan wasn't avoiding her or something. Or maybe she was avoiding Grace.
"Hey, Jane, remember the guy from the picture on Jordan's nightstand?" Adam asked, and without expecting a reply, he pointed in the direction of the tree in the middle of the yard. She spotted the aforementioned Italian girl by the tree, talking to a couple of kids. One was a tall, dark-skinned boy with dreaded short hair, the other was a lanky girl with short, spiky blond hair, who looked a lot like Jordan herself. They were laughing about something, then Jordan threw her arms around the boy's neck and they hugged. Joan squinted. She couldn't see the boy's face very clearly.
Jordan was now walking their way, holding the boy's hand, while the spiky-haired girl walked beside them.
"What friends?" Joan asked, realizing she was the only one who didn't know who these two were.
"Hi, guys. I want you to meet the newest Arcadian abductees," Jordan announced. "This is my cousin Carolina," she said, gesturing to the girl. Up close, Carolina was definitively Jordan's relative. They had the same green eyes and the same complexion, but Carolina's hair was lighter, and she was slightly taller and leaner. Joan thought that she looked like a pre-pubescent Charlize Theron (in a good sense). She seemed nice, anyway. But if Jordan looked like a Seventeen fall issue cover girl, Carolina was the one on Shape's summer special. And that's never a good thing, Joan thought.
"Hello," Carolina said, flashing a full-teeth smile. Her accent was obviously foreign, and her voice was clear and strong.
"Well, hello," Friedman mumbled in what was supposed to be a seductive tone. Erika and Grace thwapped him upside the head at once.
"And this is my boyfriend, Jeremy Dask," Jordan added, now turning to the boy. Joan saw that Adam was right. He was the boy from the picture on Jordan's nightstand. And he was cute; he had bright hazel eyes that stood out against his dark skin. His short dreaded hair stood at the top of his head. He was tall, well-built and had a pearly-white smile that brightened his whole face.
"Hallo, everybody," he said in a very distinctive accent.
"Jeremy is from Jamaica, although he's been living in London for the past ten years," Jordan added, knowing that they were all wondering where his accent was from.
"Well, there's a weird combo. That would be like sending me off to the United States," Erika said. Then she pretended to slap her forehead in realization. "Oh, silly me! Here I am!" she exclaimed, and the foreigners laughed. "No offense to you guys, I just never thought they'd land me here. I feel lost in translation," Erika said, speaking to Joan, Grace, Luke, Adam and Friedman. They looked at each other, puzzled.
"So, Jeremy…" Joan began, once the international teasing had subsided and the bell had rang and everyone was going back inside the building.
"Oh, no, please, don't call me Jeremy. I beg you. That's what adults call me, and I don't like it because it sounds like they're reprimanding me," Jeremy Dask said. "You can call me Remy, Dask, J.D. or Jay. Pick."
"Wow, that's a lot of nicknames," Grace said. "Don't you get confused?"
"Yeah, but it's too late now. I should have thought it more thoroughly at the beginning."
"I call him Remy. It sounds artistic," Jordan said, grinning at him.
"I call him sciocco. It means fool in Italian," Carolina piped in. Remy tousled her hair and she shoved him to one side.
"Children, behave," Grace scolded.
"Anyway," Joan interrupted, "how come you two arrived so late for school? We're already two weeks in."
"We like to draw attention to ourselves," Carolina replied.
"Yeah, otherwise we're not interesting at all," Remy added.
"That only applies to you."
They all walked into History class, except for Luke and Friedman, who had Biology. Luke has to pull Friedman by his sweatshirt because Friedman's eyes are glued on Carolina.
"No, seriously. I was actually visiting relatives in Kingston, and soaking up on a little Jamaican culture before coming here," Remy explained. "And then I accidentally slept in on my departure day and my plane left me so we had to reschedule, and now here I am," he added, smirking innocently. Joan saw Jordan rolling her eyes.
"From Jamaica to Arcadia. Dude, it's supposed to be the other way around," Grace pointed out. Joan couldn't help herself: when she thought of Jamaica the first thing that came to mind was Bob Marley and the shrunken head on the "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" movie. Just like when she met Erika and heard she was from Australia, she thought of surfing, kangaroos and koala bears.
Evil koala bears in hats… Joan shivered. Eech.
"What about you, Carolina?" Adam asked.
"Me? I'm just lazy. I convinced my mom that going eight hours back in time, plus jet lag, had really done something to my system. She let me stay home," the new girl narrated with a devious glint in her eye. "The only thing is that she actually took me to the doctor to see about that. But I amused myself by pretending I only spoke Italian and watching the nurses try to talk to me."
Grace cocked an eyebrow. "How charming," she scoffed.
"Which reminds me, can I stay over at your house, dear cousin? Now that my mom discovered my evil school-skipping plan, she's just unbearably strict," Carolina continued, now speaking to Jordan.
"Sure, Caro, but you think your mom, being unbearably strict at the moment, is going to grant you permission?"
"Whoever said anything about needing permission?"
They all continued talking, but lowered their voices as soon as Professor Graham walked through the door. Joan and Adam retreated quietly to their usual seats, at the very back of the classroom, where they could always chat or sleep without getting noticed by the teacher.
"Settle, children. There's a lot of history to look into, and there's more and more building up every day as we advance," the professor's voice boomed in the classroom, making the chattering subside. He opened the textbook on his desk and sorted through the pages. "We begin where we left off last class. The Spanish Inquisition, page 147, for those who don't recall or were just not paying attention." Students were mumbling as they got their own textbooks out. Mr. Graham sat down and put on his reading glasses, squinting at a sheet of paper. "Let's see… who wants to start reading… ah, here: Giordana Canavaggio," he read. Jordan, who seemed much focused on Remy at the moment, snapped her head around at the sound of her name and realized what was going on. She quickly landed herself on page 147 and began to read out loud.
Joan's mind tuned out the sound of Jordan's voice and everything around her. All the frustration of the past weeks had come back. She felt very dumb. All this time she had been worried that Jordan might have had a thing for Adam, and all this time she actually had a boyfriend. And Joan had to go and get all worked up. She had made a fool of herself in front of Adam. Damn hormones…
Why hadn't Jordan ever mentioned she had a boyfriend? She had mentioned Jeremy a couple of times, now that Joan recalled, but Jordan had never referred to him as her boyfriend. It would have definitively made things easier for Joan. I'm a royal dumbass, she thought miserably, and dejectedly nestled her head on her arms.
"What's wrong, Jane?"
Joan glanced at Adam out of the corner of her eye; he looked at her, concerned.
"Oh, well, something's always wrong, so it gets confusing sometimes. Couldn't tell you for sure what it is this time," she muttered, staring up ahead. Jordan was done reading and now the teacher was rambling about this big event that took place a long time ago and that no one really cared about. Jordan rested her head on her crossed arms, in a manner similar to Joan's, and began whispering with Remy. Remy grinned and reached for Jordan's hand, fingers intertwined. They looked very cute together.
"Anything I can do to help?" Adam asked.
Sighing, Joan rolled her head to the right, so that now she was looking at Adam clearly, although sideways. She grinned tiredly.
"Not really. I'll have to deal with it myself. But thanks."
He grinned back at her. With an almost imperceptible movement, he now had her hand in his, and he gently slipped his fingers between hers, in a comforting way. Much like Remy had just done.
Joan couldn't tell what or why, the small gesture had made her face warm up and her head swoon. It was like electricity flowing from his fingers and through her arm, and the warmth from his smile. It felt so sweet; she wanted to stay like that forever. It was enough.
At that moment, she had a vision. Or at least it felt like a vision. Of her and Adam, and the last time he would see that smile, and feel that touch. She couldn't make sense of it, but it felt real. It was a frightening thought. She wanted to believe it was an illusion after all. But she couldn't tell…
Joan's eyes snapped open. The bell was ringing, startling her out of her reverie; she realized she had slumbered through nearly the entire period, her head still nestled on her arms, her hand still in Adam's. He had his head propped on his other arm, looking like he was in a trance. The others got up as the teacher announced the test next Thursday, eliciting some groans.
"Hey, Beavis and Butthead, time to go. Sober up," Grace said. Adam snapped out of his trance and let go of Joan's hand. Joan sat up and discreetly stared at the hand Adam had been holding; it now felt awkward and empty, as if it were missing a piece.
"Good thing the teacher didn't catch you sleeping. You looked so peaceful I just couldn't wake you up," Adam whispered. Joan gave him a grateful smile. They picked up their things and followed the others out of the classroom. It was still a long time until last period, and Joan was suddenly feeling a strange detachment; like she could barely perceive what was going on around her. Suddenly, all she could think about was that strange dream or vision, and what it might mean.
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The rest of the school day went by in a blink. As the final bell finished ringing, the gang walked gratefully into the open as students poured out around them.
"Oh, there's Troy. I'll be right back," Erika said, and she darted toward the street, where Troy was leaning coolly against an old rusted blue Volkswagen van. The others stayed behind and talked.
"What are those guys doing?" Remy asked. The others turned in the direction he was looking and saw a group of about seven people handing out flyers, all dressed like they had stepped right out of a protest in the 60's. They seemed to be preaching about the USA Freedom Corps, and they were very adamant as they forced flyers into people's hands, even when people said 'no' to them or even tried to run away.
Grace bent her head like a cat, pausing as if preparing for something. "They can sense indifference. If we don't try to run away, they won't chase us. Just be nonchalant," she warned in a low voice. The others snickered.
Before any of them could respond, one of the group was standing in their midst, waving a flyer in their faces. They all cringed. Grace huffed.
"We all have a commitment with our community and our country! If you volunteer today you can make a difference for many people's lives, including your own! There's always something you can do to help! Be part of the USA Freedom Corps today!" the girl said in a single breath, her voice loud and high. She had very straight long black hair with two braids inserted with colourful beads at each side of her face, and she wore a light blue robe and pants with white sandals.
"We hear you," Carolina mumbled, gesturing that her ears were in pain.
"Be a Freedom Corps volunteer today! We are all free to make a choice, and we must protect that freedom!" the girl continued in the same loud voice, now shoving a flyer into each pair of hands.
"Take the flyers, just take them, smile and walk away slowly," Grace instructed again, as each of them grabbed the flyer, smiled and moved away from the wired girl. "These people just can't take a hint."
Joan glanced down at the flyer and got as far as reading the headline, then she followed Adam and the others.
"You're a free woman, Joan! Embrace that freedom!"
Joan spun quickly, facing the girl. She was met by a cheesy grin.
"It's a freaking public spot and my friends are at earshot. What in your name do you think you're doing?!" Joan said through clenched teeth. She verified that the others had already walked away, then faced God again, nostrils flaring.
"Well, you've complained that I am too subtle for you, so I figured I should just try out some flashier ways to get your attention," God answered.
"Yeah, but this? We're outside a school, not a church. Oh, no..." Joan's eyes got very wide.
"What's wrong, Joan?"
"You're not going to ask me to join the USA Freedom Corps, are you?"
God shook Her head. "Why do you always go to extremes?"
"Because you make me that way," Joan retorted, a little more briskly than she meant. She was a bit cranky, because she wanted badly to go back to sleep with Adam's hand holding hers. She looked briefly at the others, who hadn't yet realized she had lagged behind. "What is it this time, then?"
God seemed suddenly more interested in handing out more flyers than answering Joan. "We all strive to do the right thing, even when sometimes it's so tempting to go the other way," She began, smiling at people who accepted a flyer from Her willingly.
"Why do you always say 'we'? You can't include yourself in the 'we' and the 'us'. You're God. You're supposed to be above all that," Joan started.
God gave her a look before continuing. "Sometimes we can barely tell what is right and what isn't, when it's our own interests that are in the middle. When there is something that we want but we have to make a choice to obtain it."
"I thought we agreed that you were being too subtle," Joan interrupted again.
Sighing exaggeratedly, God got rid of the last flyer and crossed Her arms. "I want you to make the right choice."
Joan bobbed her head up and down. "About what?"
"I'll give you an example, and this is just an example, not a real scenario. Let's say your mom gives you money for buying a book you were assigned in English Lit class. You're on your way to work, and you walk past this vintage clothing store, and you see the jacket you've been craving for a whole month. It's cheaper now, and you've got money in your pocket. Money that you're supposed to buy the book with. But it's a vintage jacket; tomorrow it might be gone and you might never see it again. What do you do?"
Joan blinked, slightly taken aback. God was being abnormally un-mysterious with this sort of explanation. "Yikes. Do I have to decide now?"
"Hey, it's up to you. You're the one who has to deal with the consequences."
"Well, it's a fake scenario. No real harm," Joan replied. She thought for a moment. "I'd buy the book. It's the right thing."
God gave her a sceptical look. "Would you really?"
"Ok, I don't know. Look, just get to the point already," Joan snapped. She was afraid the others would realize she was talking to this weird girl. God grinned, looking like She enjoyed getting Joan all flustered.
"When it comes to one's own interests, it's harder than you think. And you've been there, millions of times. You either contain yourself or you let yourself go. You can't always do what you think is right, but you have to know when you can't let yourself be impulsive. Even then, you're not always absolutely sure of what is the right thing to do. Sometimes we just fool ourselves."
Joan nodded. Yep, this sounded more like the God she knew. "Ok, you're back to your ambiguous speeches. That's good, but now I'm back to lost, too."
"I want you to be able to make the right choice when it comes to having your personal interests involved. When it comes to having fun or getting what you want, it's not simple at all," God replied.
"This isn't going to be like the time you had me throw that demented party, is it? Because I'm not up for losing my mind all over again in such a stupid way," Joan warned. That party was one of the worst ideas ever, and she hadn't figured out yet whether she should blame God or herself.
God shook Her head and grinned mysteriously. "It's a real test of character. Be bold."
Joan sighed tiredly. She hated tests of character. She glared at God. "What's with the outfit anyway? You look like Yoko Ono meets The Polyphonic Spree."
Unfazed, God nodded in the direction of the blue van on the street. "Your friends seem to be waiting for you."
"Yeah, they're wondering what I'm doing standing here talking to you. How embarrassing," Joan grumbled. God dedicated her a smile.
"Be free, Joan. As a human being, you have a right to be free. Embrace it."
Joan rolled her eyes and turned to leave. "I'd like to be free of you," she muttered. She promptly joined the others around the beat-up blue van.
"What were you doing back there? Did that girl actually talked you into joining the Freedom Corps?" Luke asked jokingly.
"Well, she was so disgustingly sweet, I didn't have the heart to cut her off and leave," Joan lied.
"I didn't know Freedom Corps volunteers dressed up like choir people and harassed teenagers outside schools," Troy commented.
"Where'd you get the van?" Joan asked. The others laughed and shook theirs heads. Obviously they already heard the story.
Troy patted the side sliding door and grinned proudly. "The Blue-natic, mate, is one of the best deals I've ever done. Got it for $3000 split into eight payments, no interests charged. Engine's good, plenty of room, will be running good for another half decade. It's a classic; I've always wanted a van like this."
"Someone's been watching too much 'That 70's Show'," Grace muttered. The others laughed again.
"Hey, don't mess with the Blue-natic," Troy warned jokingly.
"Hey, Joan, guess what else Troy got," Erika said, smiling. Troy snapped his fingers and winked, and immediately produced two rectangular pieces of card-board with letters stamped on them. She looked closely: they looked like tickets to a concert. Her mouth fell open.
"Foo Fighters concert. The Edge Arena, Blakefield, two weeks from now. Got enough tickets for everyone and even a couple extra. And here's yours," Troy said, extending one of the tickets to her. "I should try to sell the pair I've got left. I could make some extra cash. Got to start paying for this baby somehow." He patted the van again.
Joan held the ticket in her hand, looking at it in shock and complete disbelief. "H-ho… h-how…?" she choked out. Her friends laughed.
"Well, they're expecting a big crowd, and tickets haven't even gone on sale in Arcadia. So I got in touch with a pair of contacts. One of the organizers, and the chief editor from a music magazine covering the event," Troy replied. "Turns out I can be quite a persuasive guy."
"I'm in awe. I bow to you, grand master Troy," Joan added, and she pretended to curtsy. Troy pretended modesty.
"It's all planned out too. We pile into the Blue-natic and I drive you guys to and from the concert. Safe and sound."
"So what do you say? Are you in, Joan Girardi?" Carolina asked.
Joan pondered for a moment. She wanted to go, that much was pretty obvious. She flashbacked to two days ago, when she had caught up with Adam on his way home and they first saw the poster announcing the concert. Adam had said he wanted to go, and that he would like Joan to go too, with him. This was her perfect opportunity to be with him, especially since she had blown the chance of going with him to the last big concert in Arcadia. And that had been a huge drag.
She fingered the ticket in her hand. She wanted to say yes, but she still had to ask her parents. And so did Luke; even so, he was grinning as if he already had their permission.
Joan hesitated before smiling and nodding. "I'm in, alright."
"You think mom and dad will let us go?" Luke asked Joan as they walked toward the bus stop. The gang had split for the day because everyone had things to do. Troy and Erika drove away in the Blue-natic, and Joan had to wonder how that thing actually stayed in one piece, and if she would actually dare riding for two hours to the concert in that thing.
"I don't know, maybe," she replied absent-mindedly. She actually was thinking her parents would be very tough to convince. Given the situation, with the concert being on a week day and two hours drive away to the next town, it looked bleak for her and Luke. Considering also that her parents didn't know Troy at all, it would most likely pose another negative. But they still had to ask, and they would have to play all their cards. So Joan and Luke had a lot of planning to do.
"You let me do the talking, okay?" Joan advised. She bit on her fingernail and changed her mind. "No, maybe you should do the talking. You're the geeky, good one. I sense they trust you more than me."
"You sense correctly. And who are you calling geeky?"
"Just don't screw this up."
"Fine," Luke answered. Then he sighed. "I can't believe we have free tickets. I'm not the biggest fan of the Foo Fighters, but they're cool, and it would be awesome to see them live."
"Yeah, and I still can't believe I'm going to the concert of one of my favorite bands, and I'm being accompanied by my little brother," Joan said. "Maybe that's a pro for us, the fact that we're going together. I just hope mom and dad will be merciful."
"Yeah, it's a real test of character when it comes to asking them for permission. But don't worry, I'll be bold. This is something we both really want, right?" Luke said.
Joan gave him an astonished look. That sounded like something God had just been telling her earlier. Was this the situation She had been referring to?
Out of curiosity, she looked back to the school grounds and the mob of students hanging around the tree in the middle. The Freedom Corps promoters were still there. And God was still there, too; She had gotten more flyers and was back to handing them out. As Joan reached the bus stop, her eyes met God's and they stared at each other for a moment, a silent understanding between the two. The bus pulled into the curb, and Joan climbed onto the bus behind Luke and they sat down together. The bus drove off, and Joan looked out the window toward the school, but God was already out of sight.
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Again, sorry for the lateness. It's been a hectic past month, and with the holidays upon us it hasn't gotten any better. I'll be glad when all of this is over, and I can go back to normal.
I absolutely love the last few episodes of the series, especially the characters of Friedman (he's so dorky, inappropriate and annoying, but he's actually a hopeless romantic, and it's sweet to see how perseverant he can be when it comes to a girl) and Judith (but I have a sneaky friend, a.k.a Azure057, who already spoiled next episode for me and my devotion to one of those characters, a.k.a Judith. It will be a traumatizing event this week when I actually find out with my very own eyes Judith's fate, but at least it won't be a huge blow. I'll miss Judith, she was cool, even though at first I found her annoying and mean, she changed).
On my very short vacation I will try to get much more done more quickly (I really don't want to quit this story), but be patient. I have a life too.
Mike: oookay, yeah, we believe you.
Happy holidays, everyone!
In the darkness