Marathon Woman
Disclaimer: JOAN OF ARCADIA is the creation of Barbara Hall and I have no legal rights to the story or characters.
Chapter 4: Aches and Pains
"Ow. Ow. Ow." Every step she took as she walked down the hallway was agony. People stared at her as she went by, as she was muttering to herself with a look of immense pain on her face.
"Girardi! What happened to you?"
"Running happened to me. Stupid Particles in Motion. Who wants to go to a stupid symposium anyway?"
"How long did you run for?"
"Like, half an hour. Don't laugh Grace. I've seen you in gym class. You couldn't have done any better."
Smirking, Grace replied, "And I don't have to. I'm not the one who won't tell Lishack no. Get a back bone, Girardi."
"I have one. It's currently throbbing, so I definitely know it's there. Just leave it, Grace." Joan kept walking, stopping every so often to rub her back.
Shaking her head, Grace watched her make her way to AP Physics and decided to find Adam to see if together they couldn't talk some sense into Joan. Grace wound her way through the crowd towards Adam's locker. She saw him with his head buried inside, papers strewn everywhere and a massive structure of metal tubing and wires leaning against the wall.
"What is that?" she asked, pointing to the object.
"My art project. Grace do you have my notes for the lab? I can't find them. We're supposed to hand it in and I know I did it."
"No idea. Did you lend them to Joan?"
"No. Maybe? I can't remember."
"She's already in class. If you hurry, you can probably get her notes and fill them out before class starts. What is all this?" She gestures towards the chaos around them.
"I just can't find anything, yo." Throwing one last piece of paper out of his locker, he got up and slammed it shut. "Forget it. I'll just give whatever I can manage to write-up before class."
"You're a mess, Rove. What gives? First Girardi is walking around like some old lady who has misplaced her walker and now you're little lost boy."
Rubbing his face in an effort to brush the tiredness away, Adam responded, "Yeah, I know. I've just been over-worked lately. Too much to do and not enough time to do it."
"Relax, then. It's just school."
"If it were just school, I would be fine. It's the design studio, working on my art, finding time for Jane."
"Yeah, being her boyfriend is almost a full-time job." At his weary look, she added, "But, hey, whatever works for you."
Shaking his head, Adam said, "I like being with her. But there's so much that I do and she does that there isn't time to just be in the moment with her."
"If you need help with something, just ask her. I know Joan does a lot of weird stuff that doesn't make sense, but you know she'll come through for you if you need it."
Smiling absently, Adam nodded. He hefted his art project into his arms and walked towards class. "Jane is walking around like an old lady? What's wrong?"
"She said something about running. I think she over-did it yesterday."
"I told her to take it easy. She was fine when I left her to go to work."
"Yeah, well, she's not fine now. She can barely walk."
Shaking his head sadly, he commented, "She's trying to do too much, too quickly."
"Of course she is. It's Joan, remember. Dive right in there, head first, without checking if there's anything at the bottom of the pool, Joan. Something must be done. She needs help."
"Well, Friedman said that he could help her train."
"Friedman's your answer to the problem? What planet are you on these days? I meant help her stop the insanity, not add to it."
"She seems pretty determined to do this. We could try to be supportive."
"But Friedman? Come on, I wouldn't foist him on people I hate much less on people that I actually like."
"He's run the race before and lived to tell the tale. He's our best bet."
"God save Joan, then. Do you want to break it to her? Preferably when I'm not in the same room? Because I don't want to be around when she starts with the shrieking."
"Funny. Funny."
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As Joan slowly made her way to AP Physics a familiar voice drifts out from a nearby classroom.
"You're over-doing it Joan."
Rolling her eyes, she turned to CuteBoyGod and replied, "Says the guy who told me to take up running. What did you expect? I am not, nor will I ever be, any kind of athlete. Why do you have to be so mean?"
"I'm not mean, Joan. There is a purpose."
"Yeah, yeah, there's always a purpose. I just never know what it is, and right now, I don't care. I hurt." Stopping abruptly in the middle of the hallway she grabbed her left leg and tried to massage it. "Everything is on fire. I repeat, why do you have to be so mean?"
"You're going about it all wrong, Joan. You're jumping in blindly and not giving yourself the opportunity to find your own rhythm."
"Rhythm? What does this have to do with music?"
"Not music Joan. The other kind of rhythm. You don't have to run flat out at the start of the gate. It's not just about getting from point A to point B."
"Then what's it about? Raising money for some ridiculous symposium? Because let me tell you, I don't think that's really going to do anybody any good in the grand scheme of things."
"You need help. You should talk to Friedman. He can lend you a hand."
"Friedman! Are you kidding me? Aren't you supposed to help? All that talk about a kind and benevolent creator… does that ring any bells? You should help me."
Shaking his head ruefully, he began to walk away. "Talk to him. Help each other."
Grumbling dark thoughts about unhelpful deities and wondering what she could possibly do to get out of this, she missed the little wave the brown-haired man gave as he blended in with the swarm of students.
(tbc)