Standard disclaimers apply

2320 Euclid Avenue, Yesterday

"Mom! Have you seen my history project?" Joan yellled up the staircase. "It's…"

"The French island fort of Boyard. I already put it out by the door. Relax honey, it will be okay." Helen tried to calm her only daughter. "You're stressing out over nothing."

'No I'm not.' Joan thought to herself. It was only a few weeks into the second quarter and she was rapidly falling behind in calculus and physics.

"Trash is early today." Will noted as the smelly truck lumbered down the road.

"Yeah, I barely got that ugly box by the door in time." Luke grabbed the frosted flakes

Joan stopped in her tracks, "What ugly box by the door? Was it gray? With ramparts and cannons and flying the French flag?"

"Yeah, was that important? It looked like a little kid made it." He never saw her fist.

"You stupid asshole! That was my history project! That trash was 10 percent of my grade dickhead!" She started pounding on Luke. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

Will jumped up and pushed the two apart. Joan ended up hitting the wall, hard. "ENOUGH! Joan, go to your room! You are grounded for a week for punching your brother! And no cell phone for the swearing, come on give it up." He held out his hand. "You can leave for school and work and that is it. No calls, no Internet, you understand young lady?"

"But he…" She got cut off. She was almost in tears; She had no time to redo the project.

"He will be punished for your history project." Helen was putting ice on Luke's split lip.

"I'm always the bad-guy, Luke crash the stock market with this laptop and you two would reward him." Joan stomped away. The front door chimed, "I'll get it. Maybe I'll get smitted and be out of your lives forever."

"I don't smite anymore and they love you, here's you history project Joan. It's very accurate." Trash-man God handed it back. "I want you to apologize to Luke."

"And my real mission, should I choose to accept it." Joan was not in the mood.

"That's it. Ask for his forgiveness." He turned and walked away.

"Whatever."

"Who was that?" Will asked, eyeing her carefully for another violent outburst.

"Trash guy brought back the fort." She made some adjustments to the project. "Sorry Luke, but you can't just throw stuff away. I might not be at your genius level, but I spent a lot of time on this."

"Why? You're only getting in cause the standards are so low." Luke couldn't resist the tease.

"You want another beat down? I AM NOT IN THE MOOD TODAY!" Joan couldn't help yelling, as she lunged toward Luke

"Enough! Luke shut it. Joan, living room, now." Helen escorted Joan out. "What is the problem? You beat the tar outta Luke and have a mouth like a Marine."

"Lotta stress at school and work, waiting for my SAT results, PMS. Too much stuff, not enough me." Joan lamented. "I need some coffee."

Pulling Joan in for a hug, "Your still grounded, but I'll see about getting your phone back, go Get ready for school. When did you start drinking coffee?"

Arcadia High School

"Joan, wait up." Grace called out. "What the hell happened to Luke?"

"Little shit pissed me off. HE THREW OUT MY FORT BOYARD MODEL! I spent weeks on that thing and the asshole thought it was trash. I got a B on the project, partially due to the smell. I should pound him again."

"Who are you and which pod is Joan in?" Grace had never heard Joan this vulgar or angry. "Luke may have some flaws: a swelled ego, poor trigger control…."

"Too much information! I still can't believe you and him…gross!"

"Still, he is your brother. That's more than I got, My parents barely acknowledge my existence."

"Lucky you. Ever wonder what the world would be like if you had never been born?"

"We would really miss you." Adam caught the last question

"Get lost, you broke up with me remember. I mean you wouldn't miss me cause I would have never been alive to be your friend." She was a little too serious for third period. "Seriously, think of all the things that would be different. Steve Ramsey would have killed a bunch of people. You would still be in the closet and Adam would be the misunderstood basket case."

"We need to get to math." Grace pulled Adam away.

Mumbling under her breath, "Yeah that's right leave me alone. Fuckers." She grabbed her book and reached the classroom just after the bell.

"Miss Girardi, a tardy slip for you." The old teacher commented, he was counting down the days until retirement, handed her a yellow post-it note. "Seniors can't just coast by. I have no problem leaving you for my replacement."

"Whatever, just go away." Joan snatched the paper and huffed past him. She whispered "I hate this place."

"But we still love for you Joan." Cute-boy God said. "See you at lunch."

"Go away."

"Can I teach the lesson?" Joan slunk down in her seat as low as possible.

"Hello Joan." Cute-boy God greeted her with a smile. "You need to relax and get your head on straight."

"And this will end war or hunger or what!" Joan was not in the mood for cryptic riddles. "Just tell me the job and piss off."

"I did." He set a book on Yoga down next to her. "Try this."

"I have too much to get ready for to get all twisted up. I have about six months to get into a good college, and pound my brother into pulp for throwing away my project." She couldn't let that go.

"Anger will consume you if you let it." He walked away.

"Like you've ever had a bad day." Joan muttered.

"Second Sunday in April, about 2000 years ago." She heard him say.

"I need to wake up. Triple espresso with a shot chocolate, and a Red Bull. Grace?" Joan asked her friend. "And a cream stick."

"I'll take one too and a regular coffee, black and sweet."

The two took their order to an empty table and cracked open their textbooks. After about ten minutes Grace broke the silence.

"All right Girardi, what's the deal. You've got enough sugar and caffeine to kill a bull elephant and are acting like a raging amazon. What's wrong?"

"Don't start with me too! Am I not allowed to have a bad day?" Joan packed up her books, put the Red Bull in her backpack, and drank her espresso on the way to the door. "I finally start getting good grades and have a chance at something, and no one can be happy for me."

"Joan, I'm sorry." Grace tried to stop her.

Jerking the door open, Joan hissed through her teeth, "Get outta my way!" She unlocked her jaw and spoke normally, "And you and Adam and Luke and the rest of the God Damn world can screw yourselves." Joan stormed out.

"You're late." Will was waiting in the living room.

"Needed caffeine and sugar. Add a day if you want. I'm just the doormat." Will was at a lose for words. Joan was shutting him out.

Marching up the stairs, Joan chucked the empty can into the hall trash. Luke exited the bathroom at that moment. "See that? That's trash, because it's useless now. You ever throw out my stuff again and dad will need a lot of back-up to get me off you!" She slammed her door.

"When will she let it go? She got the stupid model back."

"Luke, it's not that she got it back. It's that you thought it was trash." Will was hoping Luke understood.

"It was a painted box with some holes cut in a cheesy French flag glued on. It looked like something a third grader made one weekend." He had no idea Joan was listening through the closed door.

"I like it. I'm a little disappointed that you can't see the effort she put into it."

All Joan heard was bits and pieces of what her dad said. 'Dad's disappointed in me? Who else can I let down today?'

"Hello." Helen answered the phone.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called."

"Adam talk." Even though he had broken up with Joan, Helen and Will held no grudge.

"I'm worried about Jane. She was really, um…" He tried to come up with the right term.

"Bitchy?"

"Yeah, to me and Grace and Mr. Stall. She was asking us what we thought the world would be like if she had never been born. I know she gets moody around her time of the month, but this is different. Really dark and depressing."

"Thanks for your concern. We'll keep an eye on her. Tell your dad thanks for the tomatoes."

'YOU'VE GOT MAIL' the electronic voice announced.

Joan opened the letter and old lady God greeted her. "Joan, you haven't looked at the yoga book and I heard you threaten your brother. I know I gave you free will, but it would be nice if-"

Joan turned the computer off. "I need more coffee." She opened her desk drawer and pulled out her one-cup espresso machine. Her parents didn't know about her little secret. "Blessed espresso. Help me make it through math and physics." She brewed a triple sized cup and settled in for a marathon study session.

"Joan, honey. It's time to get up." Her mom gently shook her. She had gotten only a brief rest, not even real sleep. Helen saw the open books, notes, and the dark circles under Joan's eyes. "Rough night? You should ask Luke to…"

Joan snapped "Throw away all my homework so I can fail and be the loser everyone expects me to be and I can grow old and die alone!" She was on the verge of tears. "I can manage that by myself!"

"Joan, I just meant…." Joan stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door.
'Anger is all that I have to call my own. Hope is not meant for me; I'm the disappointment in the family.' During her 5-minute shower, Joan had a calming/scary thought, 'What if I hadn't been born? Not an option, already here. Have to put on a good show to keep them off my back.'

"Morning sweetheart." Will was drinking from his favorite mug, they had gotten it for him the year before Kevin's accident.

Joan spooned in some sugar and chugged the mix down. "Half Highlander Grog, half Sumatra blend. Nice combination, the Grog balances out the Sumatra. "

"Our daughter, Iron Chef coffee." Will joked. "I just mixed them because we ran out of the one."

"Can't stay for breakfast meeting Grace for test prep in math. See you after school." She grabbed a bagel and ran out the door.

"Hey Grace," Joan saw her flinch, "Sorry about yesterday. This is not my week; you know." Grace gave her that 'sure-I-do' nod.

"Okay, did you get whatever that was out of your system?" She noted Joan's darting eyes and slightly flushed complexion. "How much coffee have you had?"

"One cup at home and one from the coffee shop and one from the gas station; and I bought two Rock Stars, they are just like Red Bulls, but taste better and are bigger and my brain feels like it's melting. Did I just say that out loud?" Her words were almost unintelligible.

"Why not just get an eight-ball?"

"You holding?" Joan looked serious "Just kidding, dad is soooooo mad at me already, might make me fill the cup. Probably find pure coffee. Do I look okay?"

"For a speed freak. Your eyes are all over, you're sweating, and we can't understand a word you say."
"Piss off."

"You asked."

Joan was already half way down the hall.

"Joan, we need to talk." It was cute-boy God said. "This is not you."

"Free will. I can do whatever I want." Joan took her sandwich and pop. "If you don't like it, do something." She was crashing off the caffeine.

"Your task is to ask your brother Luke to assist you in calculus."

"Can I go now? I feel like shit and I really don't want to talk to Luke or anyone right now." Joan turned to leave.

"Joan, that idea is wrong. Everyone and everything happens for a reason, there are no accidents."

"WHAT THE HELL EVER!" Joan yelled at no one.

"Alright young lady, you can take your dirty mouth to the office." The lunch lady said.

"Joan, what's going on. Are you okay?" Helen looked at her disheveled daughter.

"Just peachy. I got upset at lunch and swore at nobody."

"Joan, are you having hallucinations again? Do you need some time off?"

"No I just had too much coffee this morning and saw something that wasn't there." She lied. "Although, an afternoon working on homework at home…"

"Get to class. You have an after school detention. Let's made this the last one Girardi." The Principal said.

"Another coffee stop?" Will asked as Joan and Helen walked in.

"Detention. Tired." Joan trudged up the stairs, barely making it to her room. Her cell phone rang as she dropped her bag "What?"

"Joan, talk to Luke." God repeated himself.

"Later." Joan sat on her bed and put her head in her hands and cried. She had nothing left: physically, mentally, emotionally; nothing. She curled up in a tight ball. Her body felt too big for her. She pulled her old afghan, the one grandma Girardi had knitted for as a child, tight around her: hoping maybe she could disappear into it. 'This Friday, nice diner with the family then, oblivion.' Joan thought, crying herself to sleep. 'I can last that long.'

"Joan, sweety. Wake up. It's dinner time" Helen gently shook her shoulder.

"Huh? What?" Joan couldn't focus on anything. Helen was worried; Joan had never been like this before.

"Dinner. Are you alright? Have you been crying?"

"Rough day. I'll clean up and be down in a few. Mom, I want to cook dinner Friday. I saw a recipe on Food network I wanna try."

"Sure, get me a list of ingredients you need."