Arnold Shortman sat in his room at his desk, his pen poised on a plain black and white notebook. Both his hand and the book he was writing in were illuminated by the dull yellow glow of a desk lamp which made it just comfortable enough to see the page he was writing on. Arnold lifted the pencil's tip to his jaw and tapped it once against his chin for luck before he pressed the soft lead of the pencil tip against the paper again.
Poems were tough. Especially this poem. It was Arnold's especial secret that not only did he like reading poetry- sometimes he wrote them himself. Not often, but he did when the mood suited him. The mood suited him right now, for he and Gerald had defeated Future Tech Industries last week. The taste of Helga's kiss still hadn't left his mind and Arnold imagined it would haunt him for ages.
It was not because it was unpleasant. It was because Helga's sudden declaration of love had confounded Arnold. In fact, he was still half convinced that he had somehow dreamt the whole thing up. But no, their fight with Future Tech had been real! As proof, the house across the street from Arnold's lay in rubble!
So what was the boy to think, then? That Helga's confession had been real and that her swift retraction meant that they could play a game of let's-pretend-we-don't-know indefinitely? Now that Arnold thought about it, perhaps this was the game Helga had been playing all along. All these years he had known her, she had been playing this same game- one of two faces. Perhaps the only Helga Arnold had ever known was the face of the secret agent and not true personality that lay beneath.
What did he know about Helga? Arnold scribbled and scratched rapidly against paper with his pencil. He DID know that when she had been hit by a golf ball she had said that, "all she needed was to be near him". She valued his "eyes filled with concern." So that meant that despite all the cruel words she threw at him, Helga miraculously liked, no WANTED him to be around. That in itself was a revelation.
In the similar fashion, Arnold had learned a lot about Helga from the time he accidentally hit her with a baseball. At that time, she had spoken and acted like a sweet, almost adorable girl. She had not been repulsed by him until her memory came back and then Arnold had learned another lesson- that she was furious if he did anything mushy.
Getting along with Helga was the largest challenge Arnold had ever met in his life. Ironically, his experience trying to get Lila to like him was helping. Lila had shown him that getting touched by a boy even on the shoulder could cause resentment in a girl. So at his last, impromptu hug of Helga, Arnold had realized his mistake and apologized for it. But then again, there had been lots of instances where Helga had not just let Arnold touch Helga but had promoted it. The time she had stuck used chewing gum in his mouth, even if just to trick Arnie and Lila, came to mind. But other instances of Helga interacting with Arnold flitted through his mind like a ghost. It was this ghost that became his poem.
"A kiss so deep it wakes me from childhood slumber
As I lay upon life's turbulent stage,
Two lips that press warm heat against
My own and like a stormcloud rage!
My breath is stolen by the storm
As I gaze into a blue-orb sky.
I quaver, shake, but can not flee,
I can not even try!
The dream repeats but on a beach,
My back pressed against the sand,
Her breath in mine have intertwined,
With her damp suit lain across,
The urge to move forward is mine!
At the top of a fine tower,
The storm now returns to rage
A pledge is made of true love
But my mind seems lost for days.
Her tongue in my mouth, I gasp,
For her lust draws from the child a man.
At the time I could not answer
But days later it seems I can,
For I am forever taunted
By the fault that was all mine-
Her legs wrapped around my waist
We slid down the wall in perfect time!
So now my own heart thunders.
It has taken on the storm.
Is this love or is it merely lust?
What fruit from this longing shall be borne?"
Arnold finished his poem with a soft sigh, then reread it to himself with some satisfaction. It was not the worst poem he had ever written. It was almost good. More importantly, it captured some of what he felt; this terrible confusion about Helga that rolled in his belly. After reading his own poem Arnold knew for certain. Helga's lust for him was no longer one-sided. He felt a powerful attraction to her, too. But was that the same as love?
Arnold sighed, and replaced his "secret journal" in the desk drawer below his computer. He would have to think about his problems later. For now, he had to prepare for his weekly card game with the guys. Gerald, Stinky, Sid, and Harold were coming over to play Gin Rummy. He didn't want them to find his room in such a mess. There was the portable table to put out, too, and snacks to make.
Arnold carefully made his way downstairs. He took pots and pans from the kitchen cupboard. He hummed a little tune to amuse himself while the popcorn popped and he rummaged up a few Yahoo sodas from the basement. Then the doorbell rang.
"Stinky, Sid," said Arnold wiping his hands on his white apron. "I'm glad you could come. Is Harold going to make it?"
"He's going to be a few minutes late," Sid explained to Arnold setting down his backpack. "Let's go get the table."
"As soon as I'm done in the kitchen," said Arnold humming to himself once again. He missed the look his two friends were giving each other as if questioning his eagerness to return to the kitchen.
Despite the odd looks Arnold's friends had sported seeing Arnold in a kitchen apron, they dug into the snacks readily enough. They greedily stuffed it into the their mouths. When the doorbell rang three minutes later, Harold made short work of the rest of the snacks.
The portly boy poured the entire, large bowl of caramel corn into his mouth. Three chews later, like a miracle, all of the food Arnold had made had vanished without a trace.
Arnold passed out Yahoo soda next and bottles clinking, the four boys made their way upstairs to Arnold's room.
"Out of the way, out of the way!" yelled Sid rolling out one section of portable table. Stinky brought in another from the rear of Arnold's closet. Now all they needed were the folding chairs. Within minutes, they were ready to play cards.
"Where's Gerald?" Sid asked with an eyebrow raised. He looked at his watch. "It's ten minutes past 6:30! I can't believe he'd pass up a card game!" Arnold shrugged but he knew what Sid was saying. The boy had turned into something of a card shark.
"His parents won't let him. They have to go somewhere as a family. They're meeting some visiting relative of theirs or something," said Arnold trying not to feel jealous about it. After all, his own blood-related family was all very old or it was Arnie. His not so appealing country cousin. It would have been cool to have awesome cousins like Gerald did.
"Too bad," said Stinky dealing out the deck with enthusiasm, " 'cause he's sure gonna miss out on some good Gin Rummy!" He slapped a stack of cards in front of Arnold. The blond-haired boy took up his first hand to study it. It was a good evening and Arnold felt almost peaceful with his friends over. He yawned and stretched, then stood.
"Hey, guys, can we take a break?" Arnold said after their second game. "I need to use the bathroom." He gestured down the staircase with his thumb.
"Sure thing, Arnold," Stinky declared. The tall, spiky-haired boy used his thumb to shuffle the card deck again and the waiting room was punctuated by the 'shiff-shiff' sound of cards being expertly shuffled.
"So what's the score?" Sid asked Stinky, leaning over the table. So far, he had won two card games this year. Harold had won only one, but Gerald, Arnold, and Stinky had won most of them. Without their car-shark Gerald here, Stinky's total winning had just gone up by two whole games. Sid almost bit his fingers in anticipation.
"Well," said Stinky scratching his head. "I don't suppose you'all could fetch me a pencil."
"Sure thing," said Sid scrabbling for Arnold's desk because that was the logical place a pencil could be. "What's this?" said Sid on finding Arnold's journal along with a pencil. "Oh well," he then declared returning the black and white journal to the drawer. But Harold's eyes had bulged. He had seen the words 'Arnold's Secret Journal,' written across the cover in large, black marker.
"Hold on, hold on you guys!" Harold cried. The portly boy leapt up to his feet with wicked glee. "This is too great!"
"Whatcho talking about?" Sid and Stinky only watched as Harold pulled open the desk drawer Sid had just shut. Cackling, Harold removed Arnold's journal. He clutched it to his chest with pure evil joy, then slowly opened it to take a quick look at the pages.
"Oh this is too good, too good!" Harold declared with a loud snicker. "Get a load of this guys!"
"What is it?" Stinky asked. Now that Harold was reading the 'Secret Journal', he too, found it impossible to resist.
"Oh brunette girl with swaying braids," Harold snickered reading one of the first poems in the book. "You dress neat and pressed just like a maid! Ha, Arnold's got a crush!" Harold shouted. "This is too great!" Stinky and Sid looked at each other, then turned toward Harold.
"Let me see that!" said Stinky. Both he and Sid tried to snatch the book from Harold's hands, but the older boy just shooed them away from him with his large, fisted hands.
"Nah, ah, you guys! Now we gotta get out of here, before Arnold comes back!"
"Take the roof!" Shouted Sid. He jumped onto the ladder above Arnold's bed and opened a window pane in Arnold's rooftop. Harold followed Sid's example and soon he was standing on Arnold's rooftop with Sid and Stinky and Arnold's Secret Journal clutched under his arm.
"Quick, down the fire escape!" Sid advised him.
"Oh, this is going to be so good!" Harold cackled once again as the three mischievous boys scuttled down Arnold's fire escape and off into the night. Minutes later, Arnold reappeared into his now vacant room.
"Guys? Guys?" He called before shrugging. "Oh, well. I guess they must have gotten tired and gone home." Without suspicion of any kind, Arnold put the folding tables and chairs back into his closet, changed into pajamas, and opened the covers to his bed.
"Oh, well," said Arnold setting the dial of his home-made alarm clock. "I'll see them at school tomorrow." Unsuspecting the horrors that awaited him a P.S. 118, Arnold went straight to sleep.