Disclaimer: Still and always belonging to Jon.
A/N: It may sound a bit repetitive at first, when set beside the last chapter. However, I tried everything I could, and trust me, it sounded utterly unbearable without what's here now. Bear with me on that front for now; I'll try not to write chapters out of order again. wry grin
Also, I'm introducing another canon character. I can't help it; I love him to death, and I don't generally get the opportunity to write him in.
Dec. 13th
"Damn it, Maureen, slow the hell down."
Huffing like the track star she'd never been, Joanne grabbed her roommate by the back of her shirt. Maureen shot a grin over her shoulder.
"Finally, she catches up," the senior teased, reaching an arm around to loop over Joanne's thin shoulders. "I was beginning to think you fell down a flight of stairs or a well or something."
"Funny," Joanne wheezed, leaning into her friend as she struggled for air. "What exactly possessed you to go booking out of class like that, anyway? Did you spot a flying pancake?"
Maureen sent a very odd, though quite amused, look her way. "We need to keep you out of the sun," she remarked, giving Joanne's shoulders a friendly shake. "And, to answer your extremely-bizarre question, there were no airborne breakfast foods. I just remembered I had to do something, is all. You actually don't have to come with, if you'd rather sate your obvious appetite for circular foodstuffs."
Joanne shook her head. Since coming to the Academy, barely an hour had gone by when the girls were separate. Strange, since Joanne had spent her first day thinking of all the possible ways to hide from her roommate. She'd never expected to grow close to the other girl, brash and headstrong as Maureen tended to be.
Maureen, though, had turned out to be more than a hung-over, mildly-rude young woman. Over the first week of their tentative acquaintanceship, she'd revealed herself to be funny and surprisingly-intelligent, though hopelessly-lazy. And, most importantly, she had taken a deep interest in Joanne herself; not just in aiding her about the school and the classes that they shared (conveniently, all of them), but in Joanne's personality. Despite the vast differences between them, neither girl could help being drawn to the other.
Although it had taken Joanne the entirety of that first week to stop questioning the other girl's motives, she had learned to trust in Maureen, and vice versa. Even the threat of Maureen's "deal"—her desire to pull Joanne from her safe, warm nest in exchange for the promise of actually reading books—couldn't put a damper on the comfort she was drawing daily from the decidedly-bohemian teen.
True, there were boundaries to their relationship. Joanne had learned early on never to ask about Maureen's mother, ever since the other girl had expressed a violent dislike for the woman. Maureen never questioned about Joanne's disinterest in men, though Joanne was certain her friend had guessed the reasoning for the way Joanne constantly ignored Maureen's gushy babblings about the male species (for, since that first night of conversation, Maureen had proved Joanne's initial assessment of her to be quite on the money in that respect), waving off every word with a roll of her eyes. That was just the way of it, and neither girl minded. Joanne was mildly uneasy with the concept of lunging too quickly into what was becoming the strongest friendship she'd ever had; for her part, Maureen seemed in no hurry to do much of anything. For being so insane and spontaneous, she could be the most laid-back person Joanne knew.
A walking contradiction, she often found herself thinking of Maureen fondly. Never the same person twice, the curly-haired lunatic seemed to exist solely to keep everyone she met on their toes at all times. She was, in all respects, the direct opposite of Joanne.
Joanne who, strangely, couldn't get enough of her.
As the two walked along in relative silence (though Maureen would every once in a while say something like, "God, I hate homework," or "Break's in a few days, aren't you excited?" just to have something to say), Joanne found herself focusing almost uncomfortably on the arm pinned around her shoulders. This had been happening more and more often over the past month: Maureen would grab her hand playfully or poke her gently in the nose just for the hell of it, and Joanne would feel the oddest tingle begin in her stomach. At first, she'd tried to fight off the eruption of "butterflies playing Laser Tag", but that had proved futile. Now, she was content to recognize the crush for what it was from a distance, hoping it wouldn't grow in size or intensity.
It wasn't that she'd never had crushes before or didn't know how to handle them. There had been plenty of these feelings in her life—or, rather, just enough of them to assure Joanne that she was not intended strictly for nun-hood. All of said crushes had been on girls, most of them her own age, and none of them had grown to a completely unbearable point. None of these girls, however, had been even remotely close to her on the friendship level, which made this, with Maureen, seem more dangerous. Not to mention…awkward.
Yep, Joanne thought as Maureen leaned her head against the shorter girl's for no apparent reason. Awkward is most definitely the word.
To keep herself from overanalyzing the gesture (as she had become prone to doing), Joanne gently nudged her friend's shoulder with her own. "Where are we going?" she asked, ignoring the flash of misery that stemmed from Maureen finally retracting her arm.
"The library," she answered, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Which, to Joanne, it was.
To Maureen, however…
"The library?" Joanne repeated, pausing mid-step and gaping after her roommate.
"Yep," Maureen replied nonchalantly, hooking her hands behind her neck and peering up at the ceiling as though it were a cloudless sky.
Joanne felt her right eye blink slightly of its own accord and clapped a hand over it, annoyed. This twitch had developed two weeks ago and only seemed to reveal itself when Maureen was around and referring, even vaguely, to the deal.
Like now.
"Maureen, you hate the library," Joanne pointed out, easing her hand away from her eye and resolving to see the school nurse about the issue as soon as she got a spare moment.
"I do not hate the library," Maureen replied. "I hate the books. There's a gaping chasm of difference there." She grinned when Joanne lifted an eyebrow. "You like that? Vocab word, right? See, I'm learning."
"Must be my sparkling influence," Joanne shot back, smiling when her roommate delivered a pinch to her shoulder.
"Yeah, I'll bet." Maureen skidded to a halt at the mouth of the land of books. "Bingo. Your sanctuary, my handy hiding place."
"Who are you hiding from this time?" Joanne had learned rather quickly that Maureen was always running from something. Teachers, incomplete assignments, sheer boredom—no one was better at bolting from it all than Maureen Johnson.
Yet another reason why you shouldn't be pining after the straight girl. She can't sit still for two minutes.
Maureen was grinning again. Joanne rewound her memory, searching for the exact moment that would cause her friend to be so jumped-up toda—ah, yes, there it was. The double-decker ice cream sundae at lunch. Joanne vowed to keep Maureen away from the snack bar at all costs for the next few days.
"I'm not hiding from anyone," Maureen was saying, oblivious to Joanne's silent promise. "Well, today, anyway."
"Glad to hear it. I'm not in the mood for another session of 'Oh, Maureen? I think she went that-a-way.'" Joanne smirked.
"But that's our best game ever!" Poking Joanne gently in the nose—she had created a habit of doing that—Maureen took a breath to steel herself, then boldly pushed through the swinging door. Shaking her head—and shaking off the tingles—Joanne followed…
…and immediately found herself accosted by the head librarian.
A tall man with dark skin, warm features, and a knitted cap perpetually jammed onto his skull, Thomas Collins was one of the few males on staff. He was only about twenty-two, but his size made him seem both older and more petrifying to small senior girls like Joanne. She'd spent her first three trips to the library purposely avoiding him, until the man had cornered her in the Shakespeare section. There, he'd offered a wide grin, a firm handshake, and a jauntily-rattled-off spiel about historical literature. She'd weakly smiled back, nodded several times, and realized that this Tom Collins was shockingly-brilliant—and just a little too excited for a new friend.
In other words, he was a less-petrifying form of Maureen.
Actually, once his puppy-dog joy had worn off, Collins had turned out to be a relatively-laid-back individual. He had just graduated from the boys' college across the lake, and was using the librarian position for dual purposes: money, and a quiet place to work on his theories. His plan, he'd revealed to Joanne over a couple of Cokes and a joint (which she'd politely declined, her mother's voice rattling in her brain), was to become a world-renowned professor, whipping "couch-potato losers into intellectual shape whether they liked it or not!"
Joanne couldn't help but like the man. He didn't try to force thoughts on her, hadn't made a habit of interrupting her work, and—best of all—had never once tried to hit on her. When she had made a joke about this, he'd only winked and responded that his boyfriend would probably be a little pissed should he ever slip that way.
"Hey, little girl," he said cheerfully, catching Joanne by the elbow and steering her behind the check-out counter. "I got somethin' to show you."
"Oh, yeah?" Distracted, Joanne tried to peer around his large frame, searching for Maureen. It usually wasn't a good idea to let the other girl out of her sight for too long, especially when in an environment where Maureen could do some serious damage. Joanne shuddered as she imagined the brunette whipping out a lighter and cackling maniacally as she set fire to several of the older texts.
"Yep." Collins rummaged around under the counter for a minute, then straightened, producing a battered leather journal. "Here," he said happily, pushing it into her hands.
Flicking it open, Joanne found that the pages were dog-eared, water-marked, and occasionally a little torn—but mostly blank. She lifted an eyebrow.
"Invisible ink, Thomas? Kind of a schoolboy prank, isn't it?"
Throwing his head back, Collins chortled for a minute, then reached out a broad hand and tapped the book forcefully. "S'not a prank, Jo. I found it in an old box the other day. Thought of you."
"What box?" Curiosity peaking, Joanne flipped through the pages again, more slowly this time. Collins puffed out his chest a bit.
"One of mine. I think my ma got it for me when I was just settin' out for college. I probably used it twice, then got bored. But I figured, why waste good paper, right? You should give it a go. See if any of my old muses got trapped between the pages." Winking, he settled his weight against the counter and rolled up the sleeves of the thick flannel shirt he was wearing over about four other articles of clothing. Joanne smiled.
"I'll do that. Thanks, Tom."
"Anytime, little girl." Nodding towards the journal, he added, "Hey, do me a favor though. If you do happen upon some inspiration, could you send it my way when you're done with it? I'm a little stuck on my latest theory and it's driving me crazy. Even the greenery ain't helping."
"Will do." Twitching the book toward him in a sort of salute, Joanne walked back around the counter and eyeballed the area. "Now I've just got to find—"
"All righty, all set!"
Joanne clutched her chest as Maureen all but exploded out from behind the nearest shelf. The curly-haired girl grinned, shifting her bag on her shoulder.
"Did I scare you?"
"You startled me," Joanne replied, her voice almost a growl. Maureen's bright smile lit up further.
"I scared you. Right on." Turning to Collins, she gave the counter a tap. "Hey, how's the weed?"
He grinned back. "Still good, Johnson. Gimme a call if you want in."
"Of course." She pointed at him, then at her bag. "I found it. I'll be in later to chat about the situation, 'kay?"
He flicked two fingers in her direction, then turned toward the phone as it gave off an obnoxious ring. "Catch you ladies later," he said, waving to Joanne.
"'Bye," she replied distractedly as Maureen dragged her out of the library. Once their feet had touched hallway tile, she demanded, "What was that all about?"
"What was what all about?" Maureen replied innocently, her eyes huge. Joanne scowled.
"You just bolted into the library, disappeared, and came back eight minutes later with nothing but a triumphant expression," Joanne pointed out. "What the hell did I miss?"
"I just found what I was looking for, is all," Maureen answered with an almost-believable shrug.
"But what were you looking for?" Joanne pressed. Maureen, however, refused to comment. Instead, she set off at a relaxed pace down the hall, motioning for Joanne to hurry up.
Joanne sighed. So Maureen was going to play stubborn today. Swell. Well, she supposed grudgingly, I'll probably find out sooner or later what she's up to. Maureen's not one for keeping secrets for long.
Besides, it's probably some part of her "deal". I'm sure it's no fun torturing me if I don't find out.