Helga G. Pataki had ample time to bronze herself in the summer sun without going to a beach. She didn't need a lawn chair to get a perfect tan, because she had nothing else to do but wait in the blazing nearly-summer heat which shimmered off the blacktop of a parking lot. Her Dad, Big Bob Pataki, was car shopping, so she had little choice but to wait - either inside on a cramped plastic chair, or out.
Helga wrapped her fingertips against her crossed arm. A fly flew by. Boring was just plain… well boring. She didn't know if she could stand a single second of it. But when a bead of sweat trickled down her brow, Helga came up with a plan. She'd drop by the vending machine for grape soda...again. There was something magical about the ice cold beverage as it rolled out with a merry "ching!". Like an elixir for wizards, an instant, fizzy cold drink seemed out of place for a parking lot which felt an awful lot like the Sahara. Helga gulped it down eagerly, then tossed the can into a bin already overflowing with grape soda cans.
Helga's ears, poised for noise, perked up when they heard her father's laugh. The lot manager and Big Bob Pataki strolled up to an oversized hummer. The two shook hands. In a moment, Helga's father held a new set of keys in his hand. At last, he approached his daughter.
"Dad?!" Helga said as if it was a miracle he returned after all. The wait in the heat had seemed so long. "Are you done?"
"Yup!" her father said with pride. "I just traded up the newest and biggest hummer on the market! The F5490 Destabilizer! It has rear ejection seats! And a department for cocktail refreshments."
"Is that really necessary?" Helga inquired with more polite skepticism than was her norm. "You did get the old car last year."
"Ah! Necessary, smecessary!" her old man said with a grin as he swung his new keys high in celebration. "I'm the sultan in these parts. So I can have a little taste of the best. Only the best!" said Big Bob getting into his new car and revving up the engine like he was about to take off drag-racing. Eyes wide, Helga strapped in beside him.
"Hm," said Helga suddenly distracted. She squinted through the window at much smaller but sporty, buttercup yellow convertible. "That car's kind of cute. Isn't it Dad?" Helga pointed out the front passenger window. She was shocked when her father veered suddenly into a parking spot beside it to climb out and go up to the car to get an upclose and in person look at it.
"Oh, yeah!" her father muttered scratching under his chin. "That looks like the same brand as the car I bought Olga. It's decided then! I'll put in an order for one of these. It'll do for your first car!"
"What?!" Helga garbled. "You're going to buy me a new car?! Why? I'm only eleven years old!"
"You'll be needing it soon enough. Besides, you're going to work it off! Helping at Big Bob's Beeper Emporium!"
"But Dad!" Helga protested with real astonishment. "I'm just a kid!" But Helga's father shook a meaty finger at her. Helga stiffened with dread.
"Ah, ah, ah!" Her father admonished in perfect calm. "Big Bob's Beeper Emporium is a family business! Plus, minimum legal working age is fourteen! So get ready, girlie! When you turn fourteen, say goodbye to afternoons goofing off and gadding about singing 'la-dee-dah' when you could be bringing in money!"
"You can't be serious?!" Helga yelped. She ground her teeth together in angst, but her worry did not diminish. Helga knew her father too well to guess he was making a joke about this. After all, Big Bob's Beeper's was something he had always put endless sweat and energy into building. At times of his life, he valued the company he had founded on greater or equal terms as his own family. Lately, he had eased a bit and begun to appreciate the people around him more. But he hadn't given up on expanding his corporate empire!
"That's right, Helga!" Big Bob explained, jabbing a meaty finger in the air under Helga's nose. "Your sister is always off in some faraway country doing brainiac things! I want the best for Olga, and that means not tying her down to this. The family business has to be carried on by someone! And that's where you come in Helga! You're not the boy you were supposed to be, but that just means you'll have to work twice as hard!"
"Huh?!" Helga stuttered. "What about what I want do with my life?" she muttered rebelliously.
"Those are the breaks!" Helga slapped her own face with one hand so that one eye was covered and her fingertips rested on her temple.
"Oh, the fleeting nature of childhood!" Helga lamented.
"You got that right!" said Big Bob reversing his hummer once they had strapped back in. Helga grit her teeth with painful resolve for sometimes, it just isn't our luck to be the person to call the shots. At this moment, she most certainly wasn't.
Phoebe Heyerdahl had a whole lot less to worry about than Helga for the moment. But she walked down the hallway of P.S. 118 with a curious expression her face. There were girls with puffy bracelets on her left. There were goths on her right. There were campfire lasses who never changed out of their uniforms up ahead. Phoebe walked past one kid wearing bellbottoms talking to another kid with baggy jeans. Then she walked by someone who looked like she her hairstyle was ripped out of Sailor Moon but her clothes crossed between Naruto and Dragonball Z. The cosplayer wave a hand fondly even if Phoebe had no idea who that was.
As Phoebe continued to stroll through the rowdy, rather diverse crowd, she spotted a knot of girls blocking the hallway. Phoebe tiptoed to the edge of the knot and slipped in between larger and taller girls to stand next Helga. Like herself, the pink-dressed girl had gravitated here to get a peek of what was the cause of the commotion. One of the seniors was holding up a single earring for the girls of the crowd to view. There were oohs and aws. Money bills flashed out as quick as lightning.
"Thank you, thank you! Here's one for you, and you, and you! Great!" the girl said shoveling up the money to stuff it into her pocket. "I'm sold out! I'll have more made by Monday for you! I'll take pre-orders!" Most of the girls wandered away. The clog in the hallway cleared.
"What was that all about?!" Helga uttered with real astonishment. "You've got a good gig going!"
"Yeah, selling earrings!" the brunette girl in a blue dress said before reaching into her locker for a book. She patted her hair with swagger. "I make them myself! Sell like hotcakes! You know everyone is getting their ears pierced this year! If they haven't already."
"Pierced ears?" Phoebe uttered with trepidation as she considered the words. "Does that hurt?"
"Oh, yeah loads!" the girl said with deep sarcasm, rolling her eyes. "It's excruciating!"
"It is?" Phoebe squeaked with fear.
"Nah!" the girl said waving a hand at them. "Only hurts for a second! The only thing is you get an ear infection. That hurts a lot! Painful like you wouldn't believe! So try to keep the ears clean!" she advised, turning back to her locker.
"Maybe I shouldn't get my ears pierced at all," Phoebe muttered, looking regretful. The girl who had been selling earrings leveled her a disdainful look.
"Wow. If that's how things are with you! No need to be all sissy about it," the girl said before walking away.
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Phoebe snapped, suddenly cross. "And what about you, Helga? You just let her say all of those things about me!"
"Well, you were saying some wussy things!" Helga said with fairness despite her friend's wrath. "Why so twitchy about all of this anyway? It's just some girl you don't even know!"
"Well, I am supposed to get my ears pierced next month," Phoebe mumbled with uncertain misery. "My parents and I talked about it and well… we were going to. But now, after hearing all that, I'm a little unsure."
"Is that what this is all about?!" Helga grinned softly. "You don't have to worry, Phoebes, I'm sure it won't hurt that bad! You can take it! But if you don't want to, you don't have to. That's what the lady who did my ears up said. You have to decide on the time that's right for you!"
"I didn't know you had your ears pierced," mumbled Phoebe. "Did it hurt?"
"Nah, not that bad!" Helga assured her. "It hurts a lot less than wearing clip-ons, I think! Those things pinch in one heck of a nasty way. And my ears are fine! See?" Helga declared. She showed Phoebe a tiny silver circle so small it was difficult to spot even from up close.
"I see," Phoebe mumbled. "Still, I wonder. Maybe I should call the whole thing off?"
"Meh. It's up to you," Helga stated. Her mind was drifting elsewhere. She looked down the hallway away from Phoebe and rubbed her chin in thought. Then she ambled into the classroom.
Accessories. That was Helga was noticing all around her. They abounded. Most of the girls in the school were now sporting earrings. One of the boys, she noticed, had a single earring in his left ear. The girls of the upper class had always worn scrunchies around their wrists for decoration. But on Rhonda's and wrists Nadine's wrists, there were bracelets with little charms dangling off them. Eugene had a whole collection of pencil eraser toppers, to Curly's envy. Even Lorenzo had gotten into the accessory habit, too, clipping toy plastic robots and spaceships to his otherwise very professional briefcase.
"Hm," Helga murmured to herself. She reached into her pocket to take a single, loose earring out of it. She studied it carefully in thought.
Later that evening, Big Bob arrived home at the Pataki family residence. "I'm home!" the big man called to the interior. "And I'm starvin'! What's for dinner, Miriam?" the man hollered although there was no wife to greet him. But Helga came skidding round the corner.
"Dad!" she yelped. On her toes, she reached up to snag hold of the edge of the large man's shirt. It would be her stunning future to reach his height, someday.
"Dad, dad!" Helga yelped for attention. Her father attempted to redirect his attention elsewhere, but Helga had a hold of his shirtfront. It was something she had done a few times, long ago, in her youngest years. That she did it again meant she was feeling enthusiastic about something.
"Yeah? What do ya want?" Big Bob rumbled in his gruff, rather impatient voice. Helga let go of his shirt tail with a snap. She swung her arms wide instead.
"Dad, there's something I really want to try. You know how you're expecting me to become a brainiac businessperson someday? Well, I thought that maybe I should get a little bit of practice in by setting up a lemonade stand... or something," Helga said with slightly suspicious extra emphasis on the word "something."
