Well, I finished Harry Potter in record time: three days (in my defense, it was not that long). And I have the scary feeling it would've been less hadn't I had so much to do over the weekend. I have a friend who finished it in one sitting (now that's scary) Seth has inevitably gotten himself hooked on the books, too, and is now reading Goblet of Fire, because he says he doesn't want to read the first three books since he already saw the movies, and I had to use all my willpower not to whack him over the head with the Order of the Phoenix, which I believe must be the largest volume of the series. It would have caused him too much damage, and I don't need any more anger management. Kudos to the brilliant J.K. Rowling for bringing us yet another amazing installment which, in spite of the fact that I was outraged by the ending and felt like chucking the book into the farthest, dustiest corners of my dwelling, is tantalizing, and the characterization is as exquisite as the plot is absorbing.
Mike: enough of your lame wanna-be-journalist critic jargon. Just talk like a normal person. Wait, what am I saying? You're not normal. Just talk like yourself.
Ahem, moving on (throws Order of the Phoenix, Goblet of Fire AND the Half-Blood Prince at her beta reader's head, hopes that it will cause enough damage, and then sits innocently half-expecting the anger management people to burst through her door). Now that my mind is off the anxiously-awaited-for-such-a-freaking-long-time book, I can go back to this fic. Took me long enough, considering that I didn't have such a workload this end of term, but I've been caught up with some other things. A new quarter has started, I now have a couple of night classes, work has been driving me out of my mind, my boyfriend has too much time in his hands, and I have been watching too much TV.
Chapter soundtrack: "Life is what you make it" by an unknown artist; "Falling down" by Avril Lavigne; "Outside chance" by The Turtles; and of course, "Norwegian wood (this bird has flown)" by The Beatles.
The Beginning of the End
-by UltraViolet41 a.k.a La Gioconda
Chapter Fifteen – Isn't it good Norwegian wood?
Joan was humming to herself, something that she didn't do often, not even distractedly; she was just not the humming type. She was only doing it while perusing the titles on the library bookshelves, searching for tomes with information about eating disorders, trying to seem focused, which was not really all that easy when Hans Tørgen was walking right behind her, doing much the same. It also didn't help that Adam was in quite proximity too, sharing a table with Carolina only a few feet away, as they conducted their own investigation about their own social studies topic.
It was only Wednesday, lunch period, and surprisingly enough nearly everyone in Mrs. Jones class was getting a head start on their own research, when the most likely scenario would have been the majority slacking off until Sunday, Joan included. But both she and Hans admitted to be procrastinators, and they agreed this time to be responsible and get this out of the way as soon as possible, to stay out of trouble.
But keeping out of trouble was not something Joan was any good at, and she wondered, getting increasingly anxious, what new kind of trouble she would have to face this time around, with God's latest puzzling assignment. Looking instinctively over the rows of books, her eyes scanned the entire work tables' area, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Almighty in one of His many forms, preferably one she was already familiar with. She needed to find out soon what exactly she was supposed to do.
"Go with the flow."
Joan gave a quiet yelp and jumped in surprise, knocking a few books off the shelves. God had just popped up next to her, in a shape she had seen before only once; a middle-aged woman with grey-streaked dark hair and strict-looking wire-rimmed reading glasses placed halfway down her long nose. Librarian God gave Joan a smile with Her thin lips, age lines spidering out of the corners of Her eyes as She did. Joan did not return the smile, instead looking around to see if anyone was around. Hans had disappeared into another section of the room. Joan put a hand to her chest in relief and glared daggers at God, whose smile did not waver.
"Can I help you with anything specific you might be looking for?"
"I insist: are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Joan asked, still holding her chest.
"Of course not; you are young and your health is perfect. Why would I want to ruin it?" God said, as She and Joan knelt down to pick up the books that had fallen to the floor. "You were looking a little lost, and it is my duty to help."
Joan hoisted the books in her arms and stood up. "I was looking for you," Joan retorted. "As if you hadn't known that already, Almighty pop-up-in-the-most-opportune-moment God."
"I don't pop up. I'm always around," God corrected. Joan mumbled a feeble "whatever" as she put the books back in place. "And you shouldn't be looking for me. You're supposed to be looking for information for your social studies report."
"How can God even say that? Do you realize there are millions of people out there looking for you?" Joan said, crossing her arms, bent on changing the subject.
"Precisely because most, rather like you, don't yet understand that I'm always around. And that I'm the one looking for them, but they're the ones who don't let me find them," God said.
Joan paused as someone walked past the aisle, then continued. "Let's not deviate from the reason I was looking for you in the first place. I'm flying solo, and I'm doing it blindly. Can you give me a few more hints? And quickly, please? I've got a social studies report, as you mentioned."
God shook Her head in disbelief and turned to leave. Joan was nonplussed for a split second before she followed God.
"Hello. Did you not hear me? I'm flying blindly and I'm going to crash. I need directions," Joan demanded, trailing God for half a step. The librarian moved between the rows of books, apparently doing whatever it is a librarian does during work.
"You don't need directions. You just go with the flow," God said, not looking back at Joan. "You know, you take a chance, you seize and opportunity, and you just go with it, wherever it takes you."
"That's flying blindly," Joan pointed out. "Do you want me to crash? Because I can easily manage that with my eyes closed, or open, or anyway really. And that's a metaphor for 'Joan gets in trouble way too often for doing what God tells her to do'. It's the awful truth."
God stopped and faced Joan. "Who says it's supposed to be easy? Things don't always go as you want them too. Precisely that is how you learn, because you acquire experience from the mistakes you make. Knowledge can't always come from books. Those are just records. True knowledge comes from real-life experience. Success and failure, love and heartbreak, life and death. Pay attention, Joan."
Joan began to ponder over those words as God went behind the librarian's desk, from where She was supposed to pretend She was busy and shush anyone speaking too loud, while solving a crossword puzzle. Joan was about to go over and clarify what God had just said, when Hans appeared in front of her, carrying several heavy medicine tomes with dark, weathered leather-bound covers.
"There you are. Found anything good?" he asked upon seeing Joan.
"Umm, no. I think I might have been looking in the wrong section," Joan responded.
"Oh, well, no problem. I think I've found plenty. Shall we?" he said, gesturing toward an empty work table, in between the one where Carolina and Adam sat, and the one that Jordan and her work partner, Rosalind Evans, occupied. They put their things on the tabletop, and as she was taking her seat, Joan noticed the very pointed stares from both Carolina and Jordan. She ignored them and joined Hans at leafing through the books.
They spent the next half hour taking a few useful notes, but mostly writing down information about each book they "consulted", just to add to their bibliography and make it more impressive, since they had decided most of their searches could be done over the internet, which saved them time and money for photocopies. Joan was getting anxious already, having spent that half hour barely concentrating on what she was supposed to do and spending most of it merely darting looks at Adam's table. Neither he and Carolina nor Jordan and Rosalind had left yet, looking much more diligent as they darted back and forth from the copying machine and took massive notes. They even checked out a couple of books. By the time Hans and Joan had gotten bored and decided to leave, these other two teams looked like they were just getting started.
Joan gathered her things ready to go home, while Hans went to put the books back in their respective section, and she just waited for him to come back, standing in front of the table, only a few feet from Adam, whose back was facing her. She tried not to look at him, but it was difficult. His indifference toward her made it even more impossible to forget why he was being indifferent in the first place. Or maybe he was just really busy with what he was doing?
"Joan, I think we should get together sometime."
Joan looked away from the top of Adam's head as she realized Hans was standing in front of her. "Get together?"
"Yes, one of these days, maybe Saturday, if you haven't got any plans. We can go somewhere, we can talk about our project, but we can also just talk and hang out."
Joan was a bit taken aback, and it took her a moment to process what he had just said. Here was this cute, sweet guy and it sounded like he just asked her out. Was it a date or was it just a friendly invitation? All she could think for a moment was Adam, and whether he could hear them or not. Who cares? she told herself. You do, her conscience answered stubbornly.
"Sure, Saturday seems fine," Joan said barely giving her words a second though. A split second later she almost regretted it; she had no way of knowing if she had in fact just accepted a date with a boy she'd known for only two school days.
"Great," Hans said with a charming smile. "There is this great little café on Roschman Street, I don't know if you've been there already. It's called Chestnut Café," he continued.
For some reason, Jordan and Rosalind chose that precise moment to start having a whispered conversation, which was very distracting, not to mention uncomfortable and rather embarrassing, considering Joan was positive they could hear what Hans and her were saying, and that was most likely what they were being so chummy about.
"Nope, haven't heard of it. Sure we can go there," Joan replied. She was suddenly feeling slightly giddy, forgetting all about the dark-haired boy sitting with her back to her only a few steps away. The cute guy from Norway was asking her out, and it didn't matter whether it was only a friendly meeting for discussing homework, she wasn't going to pass up this opportunity.
"Alright, then. It's a date," Hans said.
Joan was befuddled again for a split second. So it was a date after all? She gave herself a moment to think before she might end up saying anything stupid. She found herself looking at Jordan and Carolina, who were looking back at her with very pointed stares, as if they were giving her not-so-subtle glares. Yes, they had heard everything. Why were they angry at her? Strangely enough, she realized she was also getting a pointed look from Rosalind. Joan didn't even know that girl. Had Jordan been sharing stuff about her with a complete stranger?
Carolina lowered her gaze to Adam, who still had his head bent over a book, poring over the contents as if it were the most interesting thing he had ever laid eyes upon. If Carolina had heard, then Adam most definitively had heard too. And he still pretended to have his mind elsewhere completely. Joan almost glared at him. She wished he would snap out of it and say something, yell, argue with her. Anything but this indifference. But if he wasn't about to do anything, then she was most certainly not taking the initiative, either.
"Joan? Saturday afternoon, then?" Hans asked again.
God caught Joan's eye, and suddenly made an undulating movement with Her hand, as if describing a wave. Joan immediately understood what She meant: go with the flow. Whatever that meant. At this moment, it meant go with the situation. Let the moment lead you. That was her best guess. Once again, she evaded her friends' meaningful looks and a nervous feeling at the pit of her stomach, and smiled at Hans.
"Yeah, it's a date," she said.
Thursday was a depressing day for Joan. Adam still didn't talk to her, or even look at her, and now Carolina and Jordan's attitudes toward her seemed to be rather iffy. It was unbearable to spend the whole boring day going from class to class and having them throw dodgy looks her way every so often, and having no clue why. Grace kept saying it was their European strangeness manifesting, and that they would probably get over it eventually, but that was definitively not a plausible idea.
"Just ask them, will you? And shut up about it already. The world doesn't revolve around Joan Girardi," Erika said bluntly after Joan had asked, for the umpteenth time, if anyone knew why everyone was being so cross with her. She, Joan and Grace were sitting at the entrance steps of the school building during lunch hour, while the rest of the gang was nowhere to be found.
"I know it doesn't. But today it seems to be all about having a problem with me," Joan replied, sounding hurt.
"Well, I didn't have a problem with you until now, seeing you've managed to annoy me," Erika retorted. Seeing Joan even more hurt by her words, Erika's expression softened. "Look, if we don't know anything either, then we're not much help. The only ones that can tell you are either Jordan or Caro. You know them, right? Jordan mostly. I don't know about Caro, since she's new, but Jordan doesn't seem the type of person who holds out instead of talking things over."
"I guess you're right," Joan said.
"I'm always right," Erika assured smugly.
"I just wish I had a clue," Joan mumbled. She ran a hand through her hair. "This is worse than that time I destroyed Adam's sculpture and he was mad at me and didn't speak to me for a long time, again, and everyone thought I was crazy."
"Everyone still thinks you're crazy, don't they? Can't be all that different this time around, except there are no smashed sculptures involved," Grace pointed out. "Maybe it's got something to do with that Norwegian guy, and the fact that you're going on a date with him."
"Who says it's a date?" Joan asked.
"You did," Grace and Erika said in unison.
"Alright, fine," Joan replied. "But why would they be mad at me for that? Unless they like him or something. And Jordan's got Remy. Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "Do you think Carolina likes him? No, wait, that can't be it. She's the one who suggested I flirt with him to make Adam jealous. All I did was follow her advice a little bit."
"Maybe that's precisely it," Grace pointed out.
"Yeah, hadn't we decided that was a terrible advice?" Erika added.
"You mean you think this is because of Adam? Is this about me going out with Hans to make Adam jealous?" Joan asked, hoping to shine some light onto this issue. It made sense and yet it didn't.
"Could be," Erika shrugged. "Can't really think of anything else."
"But why?" Joan asked again.
"Well, Jordan and Caro may be friends with you, but they're also friends with Adam, aren't they?" Erika tried to explain. "Maybe they don't want to see him hurt. And even if they understand you're hurt too because of all this, they realize that your crazy, farfetched, The-O.C.-style plan for jealousy is going to hurt him more. And maybe they don't want that. Caro probably didn't think you'd pay attention to her ridiculous off-the-wall scheme in the first place, so now you did, it was kind of a shocker."
"Very deep, Weston. You're so Oprah," Grace said sarcastically. Erika frowned in confusion.
"Who's Oprah?"
"You've got to be kidding me."
"I'm not. Is that another one of your Americanisms?"
"Never mind, mate."
"Don't you mate me, yo."
"Don't you yo me, mate."
Joan got up and walked away before she had to hear any more of that absurd argument. She set off to find either Jordan or Caro and clear things up once and for all with them. God may differ, but Joan was starting to be sure that every time she did His bidding, she got into some sort of tight spot with someone.
"Jordan, why are you mad at me?"
Jordan lifted her head in surprise at the sound of her name, and nearly splashed cold water down the front of her white tank top (what a terrible thing to happen to a girl) as she had been drinking from the water fountain. She wiped a little water that nearly dripped from her chin and looked up at Joan, who was standing next to her, looking frazzled.
"Mad? Who says I'm mad?" Jordan asked in confusion.
"You've been ignoring me and giving me odd looks all day," Joan countered.
Jordan appeared even more confused. "No, I haven't," she responded indignant. "You do realize we've only had about two periods together, right?"
"Okay, but you have been giving me odd looks. Since yesterday at the library. You actually looked appalled."
Jordan sniffed, raising her eyebrows in understanding. "I'm not mad, Joan. I was just shocked. You could say I'm still shocked."
"Shocked at what, exactly?" Joan demanded.
"Yesterday at the library. You accepted a date with Hans Tørgen."
Joan put her hands on her hip. She realized Grace and Erika had been going along the right track. But Jordan's attitude was still a puzzle. "So?"
"So… you're going out."
"What's so wrong with going out with Hans? He's available. I'm available. It's just one date."
Joan eyed Jordan, who only slightly avoided her gaze. A kid came up to them and practically pushed them both out of the way to get to the water fountain. Joan sniffed in contempt and pulled Jordan to the side, away from the big ears. "Do you like him or something? Do you like Hans?" she whispered, knowing that was a question that shouldn't be asked very loudly.
"No!" Jordan exclaimed with wide eyes. "I mean, he's cute and very nice. But I'm with Remy," she added with a smile.
Joan continued to gaze intently at Jordan, trying to read her face. "What are you not telling me? What is this really about?"
Jordan paused to clear her throat. "Um, I am not at liberty to say."
"You sound like a doctor."
"Yeah, sorry," Jordan was starting to fidget. "But trust me: I'm not mad at you," she added again with a smile.
"Then tell me what's wrong. What did I do?" Joan asked, getting impatient.
"Sorry, Joan. If you don't know, then I can't tell you."
"Well, I don't know."
"Well, I can't tell you."
Joan's shoulders slumped in defeat. This was obviously not going anywhere. "Okay, well, whatever I did, I'm sorry. Please, forgive me," she said, putting on her best apologetic puppy-dog face.
"You didn't do anything to me," Jordan shook her head.
"Then why are you mad at me?" Joan stomped her foot.
"I told you, I'm not mad at you," Jordan repeated.
"Then what is going on?"
Jordan looked pained now. "I can't tell you, I'm sorry. I made a promise to keep it a secret."
Joan sighed. "But this isn't fair. How am I supposed to apologize or try to make up for whatever I did if I don't know what I did, or to whom?"
"I guess you'll find out eventually," Jordan shrugged. Joan sighed, and Jordan gave her an apologetic smile. The bell rang and the hallways got really crowded. They had Calculus next, and then final period. And Joan was still not feeling any better.
"You're really not telling me, are you?" she asked.
Jordan shook her head. "It's not my secret to tell. I mean, I wouldn't want you to give away my secret, would I? And if I can't keep this secret, why should you keep mine, right?" she explained. Joan mulled over those words. They hadn't talked about Jordan's kleptomania or her father's abandonment at all since Joan had found out. Joan understood that if Jordan could trust her like that, then she or anyone else should be able to trust Jordan the same way. Joan sighed again, and they started walking toward their respective lockers.
"Okay, fine. Why is Caro mad at me?"
"That I don't know. You'll have to ask her. But I don't think she's mad at you either."
Joan waved her hands dismissively. Somehow this revelation wasn't making her feel all that better, considering it was barely a revelation if Jordan didn't give much away. "Fine. Fine, don't tell me. You just said I would find out eventually. How am I supposed to know what I will find out eventually if I don't have a clue."
Jordan gave her a sly smile. "You'll see. I think. Just pay attention, Joan," she said and winked, then ran to catch up with Remy, who was clowning around with some guys. Joan was left standing, wondering why Jordan often sounded so much like God. Coincidence, she told herself, not wanting to imagine another strange plot of God's, like when He pretended to be a crazed stage coordinator for that disastrous zombie musical. Which only made her flashback to all the disastrous other events that had been going on ever since the cute boy with the brown jacket showed up at school and introduced Himself to her.
And this time, neither God nor Jordan in this case, had even given her a hint about what she should pay attention to. So, like many, many times before, Joan wandered toward Calculus wondering what in the world was going to happen to her next.
Whoever can point out where I got the name Chestnut Café deserves a steamy cup of victory coffee. (And if you know the answer, you know the prize doesn't even exist, and if it did, it's not really a good prize. Sorry.)
And Librarian God is a version I had made up for my other JOA fic, "Brand New Day", in case you wondered (I highly doubt it). I just mentioned Joan had encountered this version of God before just cuz I felt like making a teeny tiny reference to my previous fic, but I don't actually want to imply that the events of Brand new day are connected to or follow up into the events of this one, as someone suggested I could try. That would make everything much too confusing, seeing as Adam meets God in that other one. Let's just leave it at that.