The Story So Far
(or The Epilogue That Never Was)
Arnold lay on his bed facing the ceiling. Through the glass he watched the sky. He's been like that ever since he woke up that morning. How long that's been exactly, he doesn't really know. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to get up.
Not that he absolutely had to anyway. Something within him consented his action. Or inaction as the case may be. After all, you go through what he just did and you're entitled to sleep in.
But then, another part of him wondered, what good will this do him? It's not like he can stay in here forever. Eventually, he'll have to come out and when he does, the thing he's hiding from will be there.
*She'll* be there. She being Helga G. Pataki. The girl who, for as long as he could remember, seemed bent on making his life miserable.
The girl who claimed to "hate his stinking guts".
The girl who also, just recently, admitted to be in love with him.
He thought back to the day before, at the moment of her confession. She confessed only to him. It was still a secret. He must always remember that. He took care to never betray confidences anymore. He learned that lesson the hard way.
Oh, he forgave Iggy eventually, but neither of them felt really at ease with the other anymore. And Helga's been picking on him since they were very young, better not give her a reason to.
The details were very fuzzy. Other things had his mind occupied at the time, after all, but she sounded serious, like it was important, so he listened.
She stammered and fiddled with her hands, as she tried to organize her first sentences. He could tell she was feeling awkward. He should have seen it coming right there and then. Helga was always a great speaker, and usually so loud. But that time, she just mumbled, and after a while, as if a dam had burst, the words just kept spilling out. Words she'd kept hidden for who knows how long. . It's a wonder he understood a word she said at all. But he understood clearly enough. She liked him. There's no question about that. She couldn't have been joking, he could tell it in her voice. Maybe he'd like to think she'd been joking. If she were, it'd make things less complicated.
But even if that were the case, he doubted he'd be laughing.
He doesn't remember much of what happened after that, though. It had come as a real shock. It was as if he'd lost consciousness for a while. He wasn't sure how long they'd been standing there just looking, or not looking at each other, as it were before one of them finally said something.
He can't remember everything she'd told him and what his replies were. He can't remember how the conversation ended exactly, but most of all, he couldn't, for the life of him, remember what exactly it was he'd said or done that caused Helga that hurt, practically in tears look on her face. He couldn't have said anything intentionally mean. It wasn't like him.
Whatever answer he'd given her, it was not what she wanted to hear.
Well, what did she expect, thought Arnold. For him to say the same? That he felt the same way? She'd been the bane of his existence for years! A few emotional phrases couldn't change that. And after all she's done to him, how can she expect him to feel for her that way?
And it's not even that he didn't like her. For some reason or other, he'd grown rather fond of Helga, ever since he learned to take her insults with a grain of salt. He sort of looked at it like she called him footballhead the way his grandpa called Mr. Kokoshka a no-goodnik when they played checkers; as a friendly exchange. That, he thought, made them buddies.
But nothing more.
If he gained anything from this at all, it would be that he understood her better now. The stuff that used to puzzle him about her, now all of a sudden, clear as day. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it. How could he have missed it? It's not like he was dumb or anything. He considered himself pretty sharp. He knew she wasn't as bad as made herself out to be, he just didn't understand why she or anybody would waste time and energy in pretending to be somebody else. He just didn't see the need to do so and he hoped one day Helga would come to realize the same thing.
But now thanks to him, Helga would probably work twice as hard at covering up her true self now. Maybe build a stronger defense, become a tougher bully or whatever. Her logic seeming flawless to him now, he echoed the words he imagined Helga would have said:
"It's not me they're rejecting but someone stronger who could take it."
No, Arnold decided. Nobody should ever feel ashamed of who they are. I'm sure Helga's a great person inside, someone has to make her see that. And he knew just who that someone is.
In a way, he thought. It makes for the perfect ending; him and Helga. You know, boy saves the day, gets the girl, the whole nine yards.
*...but this girl?* he mused.
He braced himself for a baseball game.
...and for things yet to come.
Oh well. There are worse endings, after all.
But it isn't really an ending, is it? Thought Arnold. The story goes on. More than anything, it's a beginning, but not really either. More like going into another chapter. He stepped out of Sunset Arms, his home, and took in the view of his city, which was also his home, and he knew it will be for a very long time. He took the long route to Gerald Field. He didn't mind. He felt like he was seeing everything in a different light. Things he used to overlook and take for granted. Even P.S. 118 looked good to him at that moment. He looked at each place and recalled the important events in his life that took place there. Slauson's, The Circle Theater, which technically, he has saved twice now, Mrs. Vitello's, where he and his best friend Gerald had worked part-time once at the same time and as a result, had one of their more major fights. And then there's Mighty Pete, maybe he'll have a couple of hundred years more. Arnold hoped so.
He walked over to the dock and looked at the City Lake. He often wondered about Big Caesar, Gerald and him never really discussed what happened there. He didn't want to remind Gerald because he might regret their decision to set him free, but Arnold would forever be grateful to his friend because of that. He looked at Elk Island, and the infamous island with its equally infamous inhabitants hardly seemed scary to him right then.
It's not, he thought, that he would never leave. It's just that he would always come back.
He was almost at his destination when he stopped by one last place.
Chez Paris, he sighed with mixed emotions. He was partly amused and part wistful. He remembered that girl. The girl who disappeared just as mysteriously as she appeared. The girl who just came one night asking for nothing in return and gave him a night he would always remember. He felt a little disappointed that he never saw her again but somehow, he felt like she never left him.
Plus, he told himself, there's always next Valentine's.
But right now, there's another girl he wants to see. Good old Helga. The idea just keeps sounding better and better to him. If the girl he met at Chez Paris were as nice as he thought her to be, she would be happy for him. For both of them.
He continued walking. He paused for a while in order to gather up his courage.
Around the corner, he thought, is my future. And he took a deep breath and turned the corner.
"Well, well, well Footballhead, " Helga approached him, she folded her arms. "Finally decided to show up, huh? I don't blame you. As pathetic as you play, you've got nothing to be ashamed of thanks to your fellow losers...er...teammates."
Arnold felt confused. He wanted to pull her aside like she had done to him. He wanted to say something like, 'Helga, it's okay, you don't have to pretend anymore.'
He didn't because he was afraid she might say, 'So who's pretending?'
He looked at her. He scanned her face, her complacent grin, the look in her eyes, hoping for a hint. Something that would give away that she still felt for him the way she did only yesterday.
He saw nothing.
"What are you looking at, geek-bait?" she demanded, she stuck out her chin and never once during the whole time broke eye contact. That was Arnold's doing.
He averted her gaze. "Nothing," he sighed and was surprised at his own disappointed tone.
"Hmph!" said Helga and she replaced the catcher's mask on her face. She turned her back to Arnold and said to the rest of the group, "Then play ball! Get ready Footballhead, you're batting after Pink Boy."
Arnold, feeling deflated took a seat by the other players waiting for their turn. He felt so confused. He didn't know how to get Helga to tell him how she felt a second time. The first time seemed hard enough already. He thought of some possible explanations.
Maybe when she realized I didn't feel the same way, she thought it best to just move on. Maybe she was just overcome by the moment. When she thought it was goodbye, her emotions got the better of her.
Or maybe she hasn't stopped liking him and she just went back to her old ways of pretending to be tough.
But she's doing an awfully great job, isn't she? He thought. Wouldn't I have noticed it if she were indeed acting?
'Not necessarily. That's what you thought about the first time, too, and you didn't have a clue,' he told himself.
He'll stick with that explanation. It suited him the best because it wasn't so final.
'So we're back to square one,' he thought. 'Helga's just gonna keep being a mystery to me and maybe one day, if she lets me in again, it's all gonna make perfect sense. No problem.'
He watched her in action, bossing their other friends around. By this time he is completely engrossed, if not mesmerized by her.
'I'll just have to watch a little more closely this time.'
(or The Epilogue That Never Was)
Arnold lay on his bed facing the ceiling. Through the glass he watched the sky. He's been like that ever since he woke up that morning. How long that's been exactly, he doesn't really know. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to get up.
Not that he absolutely had to anyway. Something within him consented his action. Or inaction as the case may be. After all, you go through what he just did and you're entitled to sleep in.
But then, another part of him wondered, what good will this do him? It's not like he can stay in here forever. Eventually, he'll have to come out and when he does, the thing he's hiding from will be there.
*She'll* be there. She being Helga G. Pataki. The girl who, for as long as he could remember, seemed bent on making his life miserable.
The girl who claimed to "hate his stinking guts".
The girl who also, just recently, admitted to be in love with him.
He thought back to the day before, at the moment of her confession. She confessed only to him. It was still a secret. He must always remember that. He took care to never betray confidences anymore. He learned that lesson the hard way.
Oh, he forgave Iggy eventually, but neither of them felt really at ease with the other anymore. And Helga's been picking on him since they were very young, better not give her a reason to.
The details were very fuzzy. Other things had his mind occupied at the time, after all, but she sounded serious, like it was important, so he listened.
She stammered and fiddled with her hands, as she tried to organize her first sentences. He could tell she was feeling awkward. He should have seen it coming right there and then. Helga was always a great speaker, and usually so loud. But that time, she just mumbled, and after a while, as if a dam had burst, the words just kept spilling out. Words she'd kept hidden for who knows how long. . It's a wonder he understood a word she said at all. But he understood clearly enough. She liked him. There's no question about that. She couldn't have been joking, he could tell it in her voice. Maybe he'd like to think she'd been joking. If she were, it'd make things less complicated.
But even if that were the case, he doubted he'd be laughing.
He doesn't remember much of what happened after that, though. It had come as a real shock. It was as if he'd lost consciousness for a while. He wasn't sure how long they'd been standing there just looking, or not looking at each other, as it were before one of them finally said something.
He can't remember everything she'd told him and what his replies were. He can't remember how the conversation ended exactly, but most of all, he couldn't, for the life of him, remember what exactly it was he'd said or done that caused Helga that hurt, practically in tears look on her face. He couldn't have said anything intentionally mean. It wasn't like him.
Whatever answer he'd given her, it was not what she wanted to hear.
Well, what did she expect, thought Arnold. For him to say the same? That he felt the same way? She'd been the bane of his existence for years! A few emotional phrases couldn't change that. And after all she's done to him, how can she expect him to feel for her that way?
And it's not even that he didn't like her. For some reason or other, he'd grown rather fond of Helga, ever since he learned to take her insults with a grain of salt. He sort of looked at it like she called him footballhead the way his grandpa called Mr. Kokoshka a no-goodnik when they played checkers; as a friendly exchange. That, he thought, made them buddies.
But nothing more.
If he gained anything from this at all, it would be that he understood her better now. The stuff that used to puzzle him about her, now all of a sudden, clear as day. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it. How could he have missed it? It's not like he was dumb or anything. He considered himself pretty sharp. He knew she wasn't as bad as made herself out to be, he just didn't understand why she or anybody would waste time and energy in pretending to be somebody else. He just didn't see the need to do so and he hoped one day Helga would come to realize the same thing.
But now thanks to him, Helga would probably work twice as hard at covering up her true self now. Maybe build a stronger defense, become a tougher bully or whatever. Her logic seeming flawless to him now, he echoed the words he imagined Helga would have said:
"It's not me they're rejecting but someone stronger who could take it."
No, Arnold decided. Nobody should ever feel ashamed of who they are. I'm sure Helga's a great person inside, someone has to make her see that. And he knew just who that someone is.
In a way, he thought. It makes for the perfect ending; him and Helga. You know, boy saves the day, gets the girl, the whole nine yards.
*...but this girl?* he mused.
He braced himself for a baseball game.
...and for things yet to come.
Oh well. There are worse endings, after all.
But it isn't really an ending, is it? Thought Arnold. The story goes on. More than anything, it's a beginning, but not really either. More like going into another chapter. He stepped out of Sunset Arms, his home, and took in the view of his city, which was also his home, and he knew it will be for a very long time. He took the long route to Gerald Field. He didn't mind. He felt like he was seeing everything in a different light. Things he used to overlook and take for granted. Even P.S. 118 looked good to him at that moment. He looked at each place and recalled the important events in his life that took place there. Slauson's, The Circle Theater, which technically, he has saved twice now, Mrs. Vitello's, where he and his best friend Gerald had worked part-time once at the same time and as a result, had one of their more major fights. And then there's Mighty Pete, maybe he'll have a couple of hundred years more. Arnold hoped so.
He walked over to the dock and looked at the City Lake. He often wondered about Big Caesar, Gerald and him never really discussed what happened there. He didn't want to remind Gerald because he might regret their decision to set him free, but Arnold would forever be grateful to his friend because of that. He looked at Elk Island, and the infamous island with its equally infamous inhabitants hardly seemed scary to him right then.
It's not, he thought, that he would never leave. It's just that he would always come back.
He was almost at his destination when he stopped by one last place.
Chez Paris, he sighed with mixed emotions. He was partly amused and part wistful. He remembered that girl. The girl who disappeared just as mysteriously as she appeared. The girl who just came one night asking for nothing in return and gave him a night he would always remember. He felt a little disappointed that he never saw her again but somehow, he felt like she never left him.
Plus, he told himself, there's always next Valentine's.
But right now, there's another girl he wants to see. Good old Helga. The idea just keeps sounding better and better to him. If the girl he met at Chez Paris were as nice as he thought her to be, she would be happy for him. For both of them.
He continued walking. He paused for a while in order to gather up his courage.
Around the corner, he thought, is my future. And he took a deep breath and turned the corner.
"Well, well, well Footballhead, " Helga approached him, she folded her arms. "Finally decided to show up, huh? I don't blame you. As pathetic as you play, you've got nothing to be ashamed of thanks to your fellow losers...er...teammates."
Arnold felt confused. He wanted to pull her aside like she had done to him. He wanted to say something like, 'Helga, it's okay, you don't have to pretend anymore.'
He didn't because he was afraid she might say, 'So who's pretending?'
He looked at her. He scanned her face, her complacent grin, the look in her eyes, hoping for a hint. Something that would give away that she still felt for him the way she did only yesterday.
He saw nothing.
"What are you looking at, geek-bait?" she demanded, she stuck out her chin and never once during the whole time broke eye contact. That was Arnold's doing.
He averted her gaze. "Nothing," he sighed and was surprised at his own disappointed tone.
"Hmph!" said Helga and she replaced the catcher's mask on her face. She turned her back to Arnold and said to the rest of the group, "Then play ball! Get ready Footballhead, you're batting after Pink Boy."
Arnold, feeling deflated took a seat by the other players waiting for their turn. He felt so confused. He didn't know how to get Helga to tell him how she felt a second time. The first time seemed hard enough already. He thought of some possible explanations.
Maybe when she realized I didn't feel the same way, she thought it best to just move on. Maybe she was just overcome by the moment. When she thought it was goodbye, her emotions got the better of her.
Or maybe she hasn't stopped liking him and she just went back to her old ways of pretending to be tough.
But she's doing an awfully great job, isn't she? He thought. Wouldn't I have noticed it if she were indeed acting?
'Not necessarily. That's what you thought about the first time, too, and you didn't have a clue,' he told himself.
He'll stick with that explanation. It suited him the best because it wasn't so final.
'So we're back to square one,' he thought. 'Helga's just gonna keep being a mystery to me and maybe one day, if she lets me in again, it's all gonna make perfect sense. No problem.'
He watched her in action, bossing their other friends around. By this time he is completely engrossed, if not mesmerized by her.
'I'll just have to watch a little more closely this time.'