Flash Fiction - Joan and Marie

It was the first week of summer, and though Joan and Marie had only started hanging out at the beginning of May, they had spent hours together every day since the last day of sixth grade. This morning, they sat on the hot sidewalk outside of the 7-11 where Marie’s mother had dropped them off half an hour before. They were laughing and joking, drinking cola and eating candy Joan had purchased from the convenience store with the last of the money she had earned for the grades she had brought home on her final report card. As Joan looked down to take her phone out of her brand-new purse to prove her conversational point, Marie glanced sidelong at her.  Trying to assess how far she might be able to push Joan today, Marie began thinking through what she would tell Gina on the phone tonight about today’s exploits.

Joan looked relaxed, and carefree as she scrolled through the YouTube videos on her smartphone, and Marie felt the now familiar pang of jealousy at the many things Joan seemed to take for granted – her designer jeans, Kate Spade purse with matching wallet, and of course, her iPhone. Joan paused her search for the video she had been quoting to Marie to read a text from her dad and respond.  Marie bit back a sarcastic comment and filed it away to tell Gina before Joan finally found what she was looking for and handed her phone over.  Marie turned up the volume to hear the video properly and adjusted her view of the screen against the glare of the sun. Although it was only mid-morning, the temperature had already climbed above 80 degrees, and the sidewalk was just shy of becoming an uncomfortably hot surface for their sugary picnic.  Her mind made up, Marie handed the phone back and said casually, “I’m out of candy. Go grab us a pack of gum.”

Joan laughed, unconcerned and said, “I don’t have any more money, remember?”

“You don’t need money to grab a pack of gum,” Marie prompted.

Joan laughed again, apparently at first thinking her friend was kidding. But she suddenly grew quiet when she saw the hard gaze Marie had deliberately frozen on her face. Joan began shaking her head, slowly at first.  But as the echo of her initial laughter faded away, the color drained from her face. Joan gingerly set her cola can down on the sidewalk.  She kept her hand on it much longer than necessary, as if to ensure it would remain balanced on the smooth, flat surface.  Joan opened her mouth and drew in a breath as if to speak, but then closed it again.  She began to shake her head more vigorously this time.  “I can’t do that,” she finally managed to whisper. 

Marie was pretty sure she knew the feeling, the knots that must be forming in Joan’s stomach, just like the ones she had felt the first time she had shoplifted with Gina. Her hand went unconsciously to an earlobe where she had happily inserted that first pair of stolen earrings earlier that morning.  She forced the thought away, and as had become her habit when she felt doubtful about how she treated Joan, refocused her mind on the memory of Joan’s first day at school.

Joan’s designer clothes and accessories made her stand out from the moment she stepped foot on campus right after spring break.  But there was something more than her family’s obvious wealth.  Joan had an easy, genuine smile and an air of confidence, of being comfortable with herself, that Marie envied more than her material possessions.  By the end of the first week she was already easily sliding in and out of different social groups and cliques of tight knit girls. Gina had been as irritated by Joan, if not more than Marie was, and together they made up several very rude, very negative stories to explain why Joan had switched schools just months before the end of the year.  After a month of watching Joan from afar, and constantly complaining about her, Gina had convinced Marie it would be funny for her to pretend to be Joan’s friend but really work to make little miss perfect a little less perfect.  Although the entire plan had been Gina’s idea, Marie was the one who ended up executing it.

It had been very easy to befriend Joan.  Asking how she liked her new school and new town at lunch one day was all it took.  Marie had easily become someone Joan sought out between classes, and after a week Marie was invited to spend her after school hours at Joan’s house rather than home alone waiting for her mom to get home from work.

Marie clenched her jaw at the pang of guilt that had suddenly and unexpectedly fired in her gut. She set down her own can of cola.  Before she could lose her nerve altogether, Marie fixed her gaze on Joan’s eyes, knowing she could make the other girl buckle to her demand, and said simply, “I like Hubba Bubba.”

When Joan made no move to get up Marie picked her can back up and took a sip while maintaining eye contact with her before deliberately turning her back. Joan stood slowly then, and Marie knew she had won as she watched the other girl walk back through the sliding glass doors glancing nervously at the cashier as she made her way toward the gum display. Marie could tell Joan was nervous, spotting her hands trembling and noticing her stiff movements even from several yards away, through the glass storefront. Marie had a sudden worry that Joan’s anxiety would tip off the cashier, and she would be caught, which only added to the sense of guilt that had been building since she had suggested the other girl shoplift. Marie turned her back on the storefront and told herself it would be extremely funny if Joan was caught and thought of how gleeful Gina would be to hear Joan had started her summer with a run in with the cops.  She focused her thoughts on Gina’s happy laughter and was nearly successful in pushing away the pangs of guilt.

When Joan returned several minutes later she was empty handed. Marie suddenly felt the heat of the hot sun beating down on her bare arms and felt sweat beading up along her hairline. Joan deliberately kicked over the cans of soda and quietly but clearly said, “I’m tired of being the butt of your jokes and I refuse to allow you to push me around anymore.” Then she strode toward her father’s car, which had just pulled into the parking lot. Marie knew Joan would never consider her a friend again, and a wave of loneliness washed over her as the car pulled out onto the main road. Marie sat on the curb watching the last of the brown syrupy liquid drip over the edge of the sidewalk and run down the gradual incline into the gutter.  The sweet smell of the cola was suddenly sickening as she thought of Gina’s smirk that never quite turned into a genuine smile. For a fleeting moment she wished she had Joan’s courage, but she shoved the thought away, knowing she would never be able to stand up to Gina. Marie had already thought of the spin she would put on the event when she talked to Gina later, and started rehearsing the words in her head as she began her long, lonely walk home, “I can’t believe it! She chickened out at the last second!”