Apparently, thirteen IS, after all, an unlucky number. That was the last chapter I posted before being hit by a month-long writer's ten-story brick wall that kept me knocked out of action, up to the point when I, in fact, did forget completely that this story ever existed or that I was the one writing it.

But thanks to my trusty agenda and a very scary threat letter from my beta reader (a.k.a, the Original Chemist), I'm back on track.

Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Chapter Soundtrack: "Believe me, Natalie" The Killers, "Run" by Snow Patrol, "Break you" by Marion Raven, "My friend" by Mojo, "Rain city" by Turin Brakes, "Sunshine" by Keane.

The Beginning of the End

-by UltraViolet41 a.k.a La Gioconda

Chapter Fourteen – Nature's cruel, she laughs at me

"Well, I feel bad, Joan. I really do."

Jordan stroked Joan's back comfortingly while Joan had her face buried in a burgundy cushions. The girls were spending Saturday afternoon in Jordan's house, munching on homemade cookies and brownies and sipping soy lattes. They were supposed to be studying for an upcoming Biology quiz, which was the only reason Joan was there in the first place (the excuse worked on Helen, and Joan was able to get out of the house and see her friends, even if it was for studying, at least it was more entertaining than sitting in her room moping). But Joan had needed some comfort for her current status, and she had spent a lot of the time telling the girls about her fight with Adam. Of course, she hadn't told them absolutely everything, but enough for them to get the picture.

"Forget it, guys, it's not your fault," she mumbled through the cushion. She sat up, her hair cascading messily around her shoulders. "Besides, it doesn't even matter anymore."

"Well, if only we had known how things would turn out, we could have prevented this," Jordan said.

"Jordan, nothing could have prevented this. It was just how it was supposed to happen," Joan corrected.

"Still, we could've not dragged Adam along if we had known it would upset you. But we're not bloody psychic. You should've given us a heads up," Carolina clarified.

"I believe I told them you'd be pissed, but no one listened," Grace declared.

"Well, you didn't do much to help, either. You were with me when we snuck Skywalker our of his house, and in any case—"

"Let it go, girls. This isn't about the concert anymore. And I'm not upset with you or anything. I'm just…" Joan trailed off. "I just wish I could make it all right."

Her eyes focused on one of Jordan's black and white pictures. It was a snapshot of Remy and Jordan, sitting on the mossy stone railing of what looked like a bridge over a river, much unlike Venetian bridges over the canals. On this particular scene, it was raining, and Jordan held a black umbrella over their heads, trying to smile at the camera while Remy was placing a kiss on her cheek. Joan smiled at the picture. But it made her feel nostalgic. She realized she had never taken many pictures of herself and Adam when they were together. Or when they were just friends, for that matter. It felt like she was willing to forget him at any given moment. No pictures meant less excuses for not letting go.

"Light up, Joan. Things will be alright. You just have to find a way to work things out. Don't wait for things to be worked out by themselves," Jordan said.

"That's a funny thought," Joan muttered, because she knew God always had a hand in everything. And ironically, He sometimes insisted in bringing her in too.

"What do you mean?" Jordan asked.

"Never mind," Joan replied.

There was a knock on the door and Erika stepped into the room. "Sorry I'm late. I got caught up watching a documentary about ocean life."

Caro looked at her skeptical. "Yeah, ok. When you say 'documentary about ocean life', you're actually referring to…"

Erika's narrowed eyes darted from side to side. "Finding Nemo," she confessed in a low voice, with a sniff of contempt toward Carolina. "It's a great movie, okay? Don't ever doubt that. It takes place in Sydney." She cleared her throat. "So, what have I missed?"

"Joan had a fight with Adam," Jordan replied.

"Oh. Sorry to hear that, mate," Erika said.

"Let's just talk about something else, please," Joan sighed exasperatedly.

"No, wait, Joan," Jordan said, giving Joan a pleading look. "Listen, I hope you don't think of me as a nosy person, but you confided on us with your problem and I think the least we can do is give you some advice, even if you don't use it."

"Okay then! Who wants to go first?" Caro exclaimed cheerfully, as if this were a game of some sort.

"Why wouldn't she use our advice? Are we not good at giving advice?" Erika inquired in an indignant tone.

"Fine, I'll go first," Caro said, since no one answered her.

"No offense, Weston, but I would be a bit wary about taking love advice from someone who's plotting evil against her father by dating his fiancée's son," Grace said.

"You're one to talk, Grace; you're the daughter of a rabbi and you're going out with a science geek and your dates consist mostly of supposedly secret make out sessions in the biology storage room. Talk about a match made in heaven," Erika retorted smugly.

"Joan, the first thing you need to understand is that guys are very dense, even someone like Adam, who is obviously much more perceptive than the average guy. You need to be straight-forward to get the message across," Caro continued, ignoring the bickering sub-defectives nearby. "So, I think we should set you up with another guy, preferably a really good-looking one, and then you just give it a couple of weeks and presto! Adam will come back crawling and begging for you to take him back. Because guys don't realize what they've got until someone else is having fun with it."

Erika and Grace stopped calling each other names and turned to Caro, dumbfounded. "A set-up? Seriously?" Erika asked.

"Hold on, Caro. First of all, that's a really bad idea. Second of all…" Jordan paused to think. "Nope, enough said. That's a terrible idea."

"Says who?" Caro demanded.

"Can we get back on track here, please, before I lose my grip? The advice sucks, we get it," Joan exclaimed grumpily, throwing up her arms. "Anyone else? And please, keep any demented romantic-comedy movie subplots out of the question."

"Before these three stooges started their repertoire," Jordan said, eyeing the other three girls, who glared and huffed contemptuously, "I was going to say that you should give Adam some space. He obviously feels like he needs to think things over, and so do you. But I think the best thing you can do is just let him settle down, get some things straightened out inside his head, and then you should talk to him. Tell him how you feel, be honest."

"I thought I already tried talking things out. Do you think I would be sitting here with you discussing this if the talking had worked out?"

"Let me finish," Jordan said. "What happened yesterday was probably like opening a can of worms. Neither one of you was really in tune with your own feelings; and maybe, because of that, both of you said things you really didn't mean. But now that some things have been vented, it gives each of you the chance to try to sort out those feelings. And be able to speak more clearly and sincerely to each other."

"And how am I supposed to know when it's been enough time for him and me to reflect on our feelings? How do I even know if he actually wants to talk about this anymore? From our last conversation, I get the distinct feeling that he's rather fed up with me," Joan retorted gloomily.

"Oh, don't say that. Guys just love to be all melodramatic," Erika said. "Trust me, he'll get over it."

"Well, if he doesn't want to talk, then the least that he can do is listen, and you do the talking. He has to know how you really feel," Jordan said.

"I still think you should hook up with someone else. Let him turn green with jealousy for a while, until he's prepared to do something about it," Caro commented. Jordan rolled her eyes and murmured something in Italian under her breath.

"I don't know," Joan sighed. Jordan had probably hit the nail right in the head, but she also made everything sound so simple.

"I wish things could just go back to the way they were before. I mean, we weren't the perfect couple, but somehow we managed to string it all together."

"Until someone got sent to Mental Acres," Grace mused.

"I said we weren't perfect," Joan glared at her friend.

"What couple is?" Jordan said. "Joan, you can't expect nothing will ever go wrong in a relationship. Whether things are complicated or just very plain, too much of one thing or the other can really make things difficult to endure. But just because your relationship becomes tough, that doesn't mean you're going to give up on it, does it? Those are the times when you really show character, when you work to solve things for the best."

"Are you saying that I made a mistake when I broke up with him the first time? That I gave up on it?"

"No. Not necessarily. I mean, I think you should always try to work things out, but you can't force these things either," Jordan explained. "You just do what you think is best."

"Sometimes I think those choices are not up to me anymore," Joan said somberly, her eyes fixed on the black and white picture again, but not really seeing it at all. Jordan looked at her in confusion, wondering what she meant, when someone knocked on the door.

"Giordana, it's Jeremy on the phone," said Mrs. Canavaggio, poking her head into the room. Jordan stood up and went to take the cordless from her mother's hand.

While Jordan got immersed in her chat with her boyfriend, the other three girls just continued stuffing their faces with brownies and cookies and arguing about the Biology quiz, for which they had not studied at all during the whole time they had been there. Joan continued to sit still, eyes lost, thinking things over and over again in her head. She wanted to believe what Jordan had said was applicable to her situation, but she sometimes doubted it. Because many times she couldn't be sure whether events were following their own course, or whether she was forcing them. She had a tendency to be wrong about these things.

Her eyes scanned the room and came to rest on Jordan's painting of the devil. She thought back to the day when she had smashed Adam's bizarre sculpture to keep him from dropping out of school. At the time she had been confused, thinking that it might have been the devil impersonating God and asking her to do something awful. She had been even more confused when was trying to sort things out with Adam.

People turn to God in times of distress or uncertainty, looking for answers and solutions. Perhaps Joan alone understood that divine intervention has an entirely different purpose. And knowing that didn't make her feel any better.

Monday morning, Joan rolled out of bed, took a long, cold shower, dressed listlessly and skipped breakfast, dreading yet another day of school. Her legs felt heavy as she treaded her usual path to Arcadia High. She had spent all Sunday pretty much confined to her own room, pretending to do homework while replaying her argument with Adam over and over again. Then she had decided to ponder on what Jordan had said the previous day. Easier said than done. Joan felt it would be a long time before she would actually be able to have a heart-to-heart with Adam again.

"Sleepwalk much, Girardi?" Grace asked. Joan came out of her daydream to realize she had arrived at school unaware. She was walking alongside Grace as they both entered through the double doors and into the busy corridors.

"You better get that taken care of at a sleep clinic or something. Who knows where you might wind up one of these days, or what your head might bang against," Grace joked. Joan shook her head.

"I don't sleepwalk, Grace," Joan said, and ironically bumped her knee into a trash bin at that instant. She winced and grimaced and ignored Grace's funny look.

Monday first period was, as always, insufferable, except for the sort of Luke, Glynnis and Friedman, who were the only ones sprite with Lischak's constant cha-chaing around the booths in a flurry of metaphoric scientific jargon and vigorous hand gestures; no one else in the sleep-fogged class was paying much attention, and Joan was feeling miserable as usual. It felt like Friday morning repeating itself all over again. Except that Adam wasn't there.

Glancing sadly at the empty seat beside her, Joan sighed disappointedly as the bell rang and the students grabbed their things and ran for it.

"Did you talk to him?" Jordan asked quietly, walking up to Joan, who was stuffing some books in her locker.

"No," Joan said half-snappy. "He didn't show up for AP Chem. And besides, even if he had, I'm not going to talk to him here at school. It's not… appropriate."

"Good point."

"I don't even know if I want to talk to him yet. It's too soon," Joan added, heading for the English Lit classroom with Jordan, and Caro in tow.

"Whatever. It's up to you. But if you think about it, it's been a whole weekend," Jordan said. Joan bit her lip and shrugged.

"Don't listen to her, Joan. Give him the silent treatment. That really sets them off," Caro said. Both Joan and Jordan glowered at her.

"Caro, you and your ridiculous advice are henceforth banned from any present and future conversations with Joan about Adam, under penalty of blasting you into oblivion if you don't keep to yourself," Jordan warned her cousin, who recoiled. Joan had to smile at the two.

"It was just a suggestion…" Caro said in a small voice.

"I would really appreciate it if we could spend a few hours of our productive day speaking about something else un-related to the tabloid soap opera of Girardi and Rove. Maybe he didn't come to school today because he thinks he's coming down with something, seeing that his ears have probably been buzzing all weekend with you lot talking about him non-stop," Grace declared as they all sat down together in the classroom.

"Isn't a tabloid soap opera kind of redundant?" Erika asked.

"Don't worry, Grace. We're done talking about… that," Joan announced, as the teacher began speaking about The Divine Comedy and its author, Dante Alighieri, and Jordan murmured something about her friend Dante's last letter from somewhere in South America. Joan wasn't hearing her or the teacher, as she was left wondering, a bit worriedly, why Adam hadn't showed up to school.

"Aaah, Mr. Rove, so nice of you to join us," Mr. Abbey said as Adam walked into the classroom fifteen minutes late. He took the note from the principal's office and pointed Adam to the seat in the last row. Joan tried not to follow him with her eyes as Adam trudged to the back of the classroom without looking at her, or anyone.

"Speaking of the devil," Grace muttered to Jordan. Joan was glad to see him, however. At least she knew he was fine. But that didn't make her feel any less worried.

He's not mad at you, she told herself, trying to reassure herself. He's just thinking. She shook her head clear of concerns and spent the rest of the class trying to keep from glancing over her shoulder at his bowed head four rows away. She didn't absorb a single word about Dante and his journey through heaven, hell and purgatory.

"You need to stop looking at him, you're going to give yourself a stiff neck," Erika said when the bell rang for the end of second period, and the students began filing out. Joan had peered over at Adam, discreetly looking at him out of the corner of her eye, as he just sat there while everyone left. He was obviously lagging behind, waiting for everyone to be gone, before he would get up and follow. Maybe he didn't want to run into her "by accident" or otherwise.

"I'm not looking at him," she replied, her eyes still on Adam. Erika made whooshing sound and murmured "riiight". The group of girls wadded out of the classroom and into the congested hallways.

"Seriously, it's not healthy. There are better neck exercises you can perform. Like…"

"Head banging?" Jordan volunteered.

"Exactly."

"You mean like at a concert or against a wall?" Caro asked.

"I'd like to do the latter, now that I think about it," Joan said grumpily. "And please, do not mention concerts to me."

"My apologies for cutting into your chick chit-chat. But I've been missing you all morning, bella," Remy said, appearing suddenly and kissing the back of Jordan's hand.

"Oh, we don't mind. We were just heading to social studies. Coming?" Jordan replied with a smile.

"Well, of course. Otherwise Price might get overzealous with detention slips. I don't need that," Remy said.

They entered the social studies classroom, and found Mrs. Jones writing some important dates on the chalkboard. The rest of the students gradually poured in and took their seats, and finally Adam dragged himself last into the room, again not looking at anybody. He plopped into the nearest empty seat, which was only one seat away from Joan. She decided to ignore him too. Thinking about him was starting to give her a headache.

The teacher turned to the class and began speaking. "Ok, listen up, class! We have an interesting group project coming up, and I want each of you to really put your head into it and show me how ready you really are for college. This will be like a trial for what's to come; thesis, reports, research papers, the whole repertoire," she explained, sounding rather excited, while the students looked at each other with apprehensive faces. "Consider yourselves lucky; you will be treated and graded like college students, so you'll be prepared for when you actually get there. If you ever do," she added in a macabre tone.

"Did she look at me when she said that?" a voice behind Joan whispered in terror.

"So," Mrs. Jones clapped her hands in anticipation and surveyed the class amusedly, "I'm going to assign each one of you a partner, and then I'll assign the topic for each pair. You have to investigate, present a good essay supporting the information you found, and I want you to present that in class, a week from now, because it will give you a chance to inject your opinion and choose a stance. You have to back up your own opinion, you can even have a different opinion than that from your partner, and then we will have a debate."

Joan started wondering if this might be the important assignment God had been referring to, and before she could stop herself, she wondered if by any stroke of luck (or an itty-bit of divine influence) she could end up getting paired with Adam, but she quickly pushed that thought out of her mind. If she would have to confront Adam, she wanted it to be a different situation than that of being pushed together for a social studies investigation.

"Here we go," said Mrs. Jones, pulling out her roll call sheet. She held a finger over the sheet of paper and brought it down and followed by reading the name her finger had landed on. "Richard Livingston and…" she repeated the same movement with her index, "Erika Weston, you both are handling…" she scanned another piece of paper on her desk and tapped her finger on it, "Celebrities in reality TV shows."

Erika looked at Richard, a stringy River Cuomo look-a-like who was sitting diagonally from her. "That's an odd topic for a social studies class," Erika mumbled. Richard just shrugged.

"Giordana Canavaggio and… Rosalind Evans, you two are covering…" the teacher grinned as she read from the other list, "The Da Vinci Code hype. That should be fun for you, eh, Ms. Canavaggio?"

Jordan smiled back, then frowned in confusion, having no idea what the teacher might have meant by that.

"I think she might be under the impression you're a fervent Roman Catholic and a fervent Da Vinci Code hater, or something like that," Grace said.

"Funny. That's actually one of my favorite books. Dante would be quite entertained," Jordan said.

Remy was paired with Grace and they were given the topic of nukes and the latest campaigns for their eradication; Angela Marks and Daisy Walters had to write about Islamism; and Kenji Atama and Leslie Goldstein were covering the murder of President Kennedy.

"Joan Girardi…" Joan held her breath at the mention of her name. And Adam Rove, she thought instinctively. Adam Rove. Adam Rove. Say Adam Rove. ADAM ROVE.

"… and Hans Tørgen," she exhaled quietly, disbelief and deception washing over her face for a split second, before realizing her newly assigned partner, who was sitting next to her, right between her and Adam, had just turned to look at her. She managed a smile before her eyes wandered a bit past Hans at Adam, whose eyes were fixed on the teacher.

"You will be investigating… eating disorders," the teacher announced. Somewhere in the suddenly quiet classroom, someone choked and started coughing.

"And finally, our two remaining students, Carolina Canavaggio and Adam Rove, will be telling us about ecotourism."

"Ok, so that's it. You know what you've got to do, and you will present that a week from today. I want no excuses. Now let's move on to today's lesson."

And while Mrs. Jones opened a book and started lecturing, Joan continued to wonder if this could have anything to do with what God had said. Eating disorders? Da Vinci Code hype? What exactly did those topics have to do with social studies? And what could be so important about them that God would want her to become involved?

"Psst…"

Joan turned her neck to find Caro shaking her fist at her, gesturing for her to grab. Joan opened her hand and Caro dropped a crumpled scrap of paper into her palm. Joan uncrumpled it when the teacher wasn't looking and read the not scribbled in Caro's messy handwriting:

I know you didn't agree with me at first, but maybe the situation will make you change your mind. Isn't it absolutely perfect? You've been paired with this good-looking guy, and I was paired with Adam. Now's your chance to spark jealousy in Adam. And I can help you because I will be spending time with him! Do you think he will be torched if I casually comment that I think you and Hans make a cute couple, and that I'm not the only one who thinks so? Because you do. This just might work! Think about it.

Joan finished reading and turned to Caro with a look that plainly said "you're off your rocker". She crumpled the note again and stuffed it in her pocket, intent on paying attention in class. But Hans Tørgen was facing her now, smiling amicly. He was from Norway; Joan had known him since last year when he transferred from a school in Massachussets, and he was, truthfully, very good-looking, with dark wavy hair, caramel eyes, and the brightest smile Joan had seen since the first time Troy flashed his pearly whites. She couldn't help smiling back.

"I don't think we've ever been properly introduced. I'm Hans Tørgen. It's a pleasure," he said, holding his hand out to her. Joan took it and smiled bigger. Since she had never really spoken with him before, she hadn't realized he had a charming norwegian accent, that made him even cuter.

"Joan Girardi. Likewise, indeed," she managed to say, trying to give him a firm handshake. "I guess we'll be working together."

"Yes, I'm sure we'll manage to make it fun. We will be a good team, won't we?" he asked.

Joan couldn't keep herself from stealing a glance at Adam, who was decidedly looking at the teacher, perhaps pretending to pay attention, even if he probably could hear (or eavesdrop) what Joan and Hans were saying. Or maybe he really was focused. Joan didn't know, but for a fleeting second, Caro's idea didn't seem so crazy after all. In fact, in the present situation, it seemed brilliant.

She smiled again at Hans. "We'll make an excellent team," she replied.

Speaking of teams, shouts out to my brilliant support team, Jake, Seth, Joey, Anne, Mike, Harry, Kasz, Eduardo, Vero, Joshua, April, Janem, and Tory for the inspiration of the insufferable sister (who will be making more significant appearances in the future). Much love to my beta readers, Joey, Seth and dear Chemist. I'm probably not going to be back for a while, but I'll try my best to stay on track, at least in the meantime, but I make no promise, seeing as I'm having a ton of schoolwork coming up, final projects, I'm doing overtime at work, my boyfriend is on vacation, my sister is starting to plan her wedding, my family is visiting, and the new Harry Potter book should be arriving at my doorstep at any moment now. Aw, hell. I'll put it this way: I'll stay on track. I promise. You can choose to believe me or not.

Mike: Thou shalt not lie so shamelessly in the face of The Almighty Chemist.

Alexz: Yeah, okay. Smite me, of Mighty Smiter. And leave me alone.

In the darkness