Joan of Arcadia
Bringeth It On

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She comes out in dark blue track pants, a yellow T-shirt, and a bright blue vest. They would have to pick blue and gold, my high school colours, for this show. Like every week doesn't already involve some excruciating flashback or another. Joan's hair is all pulled up into a high ponytail, and she looks about fourteen instead of sixteen. There's some rap lite music playing. She smiles adorably and starts her cheer, "Go, Eagles / Go, Eagles / Go, go, go Eagles..." Grace mutters to Luke, "In her better moments." Joan continues, "We live to cheer / We're so sincere / Unless you get in trouble -- then we're outta here / 'Cause it's such a royal pain when a friend gets arrested..." CeCe's horrified. Other students are pretty surprised. Joan continues, "How could I have known? How could I have guessed it? / It's not like she's my sister -- whoops, is that my beeper? / And even if she was, am I my sister's keeper? Sorry, gotta go, tryouts are today. Tell her we'll think of her every time we say / Go, Eagles / Go, Eagles / Go, go, go Eagles!" Grace has a tiny smile on her face, and Luke looks like he's pretty impressed. Joan drops her pompoms like dirty underwear as she concludes, "My name is Joan / This cheer is my own / So kiss my feathers, 'cause this bird has flown." She pulls her ponytail out as she mouths the words "Thank you" very sarcastically and leaves the room to a standing ovation. Well, in the stands, anyway. Grace actually says, "Woo!" The cheerleader types aren't too impressed. CeCe scowls and flounces out. Grace says to Luke, "Definitely a better moment." Friedman comes down to tell Luke, "Dude, your sister's, like, hot." Grace: "Dude...you're, like, an ass." Friedman's all "whatever" as Grace leaves. He asks Luke, "Listen...Diablo at Dave's...you in?" Luke can't make a decision right away, and Friedman takes off, leaving Luke in the stands.

Joan's at her locker as Adam comes racing around the corner to it, wearing one of his toques. He says he's glad he caught her, and presents her with a little sculpture, saying it's for good luck. He holds it out, almost afraid to breathe until he sees her reaction. He is the cutest thing. Joan: "Adam...what? Well, thank you, but I already tried out." Adam's crestfallen: "I missed it?" He bangs his head on a locker a couple of times: "No way, man..." Joan: "Whoa, whoa, whoa, it's okay...sorry. But thanks for the..." She holds up the little sculpture questioningly. He says, "It's a cheerleader!" Aw. It looks a lot like his other creations, except at the end of each "arm" there is a little collection of blue and yellow feathers. He explains, "You know, it's got little hairy things..." Joan asks, "Pompoms?" He confirms this. She smiles and says, "Cool." But he's all sad about missing the tryout and asks how it went. She says she's definitely not going to be a cheerleader. Adam: "Why not? They didn't like you?" The idea is unfathomable to him. Joan's pleasantly surprised: "Wow...I always thought you'd hate me if I was a cheerleader." Adam: "No way. Why?" Joan: "'Cause we're subdefectives...and it would be like deserting the army or something." Adam: "No, I don't care if you're a cheerleader or a sub-defective or whatever. I just like hanging out with you 'cause you're...Jane." She puts her hand on his wrist, where his arms are crossed, and says gently, "Joan." He can't hear anything, though, because the moment she touched him his brain melted down completely and oozed out of his ears. He looks at her hand and looks up, asking, "Uh, what?" She says never mind, and pats his wrist, saying, "Jane is good. We'll stick with Jane." He agrees: "Unchallenged." But he sorta stumbles over that one word, and starts to take off as Joan smiles to herself. Frink says in a sobby, Marcia Brady voice, "'I'm never going to wash this hand again!'" Hee. Adam walks down the hall, glancing after her as she holds up the little sculpture and studies it, smiling to herself. Man, he is so in love with her. And he is the cutest thing. Yes, I know already said that. Deal. Joan gently places the sculpture on a notebook in her locker.

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Joan of Arcadia

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