A/N: Merry Christmas to Seven Sighs! I hope you enjoy this!
Love,
Arnold's Love
Bang!
Plunk.
Bang!
Plunk.
Another rock ricochets off the garbage can and lands inside. You'd think a teenage girl would have something better to do during Christmas Eve besides throwing rocks into a dumpster near her crush's empty house.
That's right. Empty.
Barren.
Deserted.
And at Christmas time too!
And do you know what else is empty? My house. Completely.
Well, you know, aside from me. I'm still there. Alone for the holidays. Kind of like Kevin McCallister…except I'm bored out of my mind and kind of wishing two thugs would show up to rob the place so I could try out some sweet booby-traps. But, you know, not the case.
Big Bob and Miriam decided that this year we'd go visit Olga and her new boyfriend for Christmas. (Another real winner, that one.) Of course, they wanted to drag me along with them, but since I'm sixteen now, I refused and without another thought they left—leaving me alone in our desolate, foodless, cold house.
I mean, for like the first day it was kind of amazing having the house to myself. But you know it gets old really fast. Plus as the holidays got closer the thought of spending Christmas completely alone started to sound like a really tragic way to go. So I went to Phoebe's—only to remember she went to Kentucky to visit her Mom's side of the family.
So of course, next, I went to Arnold's.
Turns out the little do-gooder's out of town too. I literally had no idea. I guess I'm not much of a stalker these days. I'm actually extremely disappointed in myself for not knowing.
So the last two days I've literally just sat outside his house throwing rocks in the dumpsters…and possibly trying to sneak into his house to snoop around and maybe even find his journal or something. Sadly, no luck. It would appear they've covered all of my usual entry points. Lame.
Crimeny! I'm so bored! I wish there was someone—anyone who was still in town I could hang out with.
"Helga Pataki? Is that you?"
Okay, correction—I think I'd rather be alone.
Turning around slowly I look the kid up and down. He's definitely grown the past few years—he's about my height now. He's trimmed his dark hair so it's more of a skater-boy-esque style and much less….stringy. And he's starting to grow into that atrociously large nose of his, which I'm sure the kid's thanking his lucky stars for. But he's always rubbed me the wrong way…I mean he still freaks out about the littlest teeny tiniest things and goes into his obnoxious falsetto voice…not to mention all the problems he and his moronic pals Stinky and Harold have gotten Arnold into. You know…it's Christmas Eve…maybe it's the perfect time for a little vengeance…it's been a while since I pounded anyone—
"You hang out here by Arnold's house often?" Sid asks, interrupting my evil plans. He slowly leaning down to pick up a rock before chucking it into the dumpster. He's keeping his voice casual, but I can see the know-it-all smirk on his face through the corner of my eye.
I finally answer him, but not before throwing another rock myself. "Well, my family is out of town visiting Olga so I thought I'd come over here to razz the football head a bit." I wait for the sound of Sid's rock to end before continuing. "Looks like the dorkwad's out of town like the rest of the city.
"I know what you mean, he says. "Harold's out of town for his cousin's bar mitzvah and Stinky went to visit his 'country kin' as he calls them. I came over here to see if Arnold was home, but I guessed he was gone too since you were over here in the alley and not out front bugging him."
"I roll my eyes in annoyance. "I hate Christmas time."
"Me too. I think Charlie Brown's right…it's all a bunch of commercialized hoo-hah invented by the greeting card companies."
"That or the whole birth of Christ thing, but what do I know?" I chuckle in amusement.
"Either way, it sucks every year. My parents never have enough money to buy any decent presents or even a decent Christmas dinner, and I never have enough to buy anyone else a present or do anything special…not to mention we lack any sort of fun holiday traditions. I mean they are sitting at home watching some dumb show on television right now."
"Yah," I reply quietly. "My dad just uses Christmas as an excuse to buy me a bunch of expensive crap to make up for the fact that he practically ignores me the rest of the year…and Miriam's eggnog smoothies don't help the holidays any. I think she spends more time then usual at Christmas sleeping behind the couch."
"Guess you and I are kind of in the same boat, eh?" he asks, finally making eye contact with me.
"Your mom has an unhealthy obsession with eggnog smoothies too?" I ask. He rolls his eyes and I chuckle. "I'm kidding. Looks like we are in the same boat…I guess," I reply glancing up at Arnold's window for a moment.
"You know, you really oughta tell the guy how you feel before it's too late," he states, crossing his arms and smirking that stupid smirk again.
"Shut up, Sid," I growl. "Are you trying to tempt ol' Betsy into coming out of retirement?" I threaten, halfheartedly as I turn to glare at him.
He takes a step back and shrugs. "How do you feel about fruitcake?"
"What?" I exclaim, laughing slightly. What a dweeb.
"Fruitcake. Do you like it?" he repeats, picking up another rock and gazing at it. "I mean, personally, I think it's disgusting. I mean what bozo decided that was a good idea? But you know, maybe Helga G. Pataki has a secret love for fruitcake." He winks at me before pitching the rock into the dumpster.
I let a soft chuckle escape my lips. Who knew Sid could be an ingenious conversation starter. "Nah, you're right. It's absolutely horrible. But at least it makes for a good insult…you fruitcake."
His face broadens into a smile and he brushes a stray bunch of skater-boy hair out of his eyes. "This is true."
He turns and makes eye contact again and there we are. Helga and Sid…an unlikely pair, stuck together out of necessity…and just kind of standing there, awkwardly looking at each other trying to figure out where we go from here. The guy's not so bad…you know as long as he's not panicking about germs, or Wheezin' Ed, or Stinky being a vampire. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad to spend Christmas Eve with a fellow loner. Heck, it's better then staring at Arnold's house longingly and throwing rocks in a dumpster.
"Come on," I say, turning towards the street and gesturing for him to follow him.
"Where are we going?" he asks, just a step behind me as his beetle boots –click-clack on the sidewalk.
"Why? You got somewhere better to be on Christmas Eve?" I ask, pointedly.
"You know I don't, Helga."
"Exactly. So quit your whinin' and come on."
As we round a few corners, the cold wind bites our noses. The street's Christmas decorations and lights only rub our loneliness in our faces. The blinking lights laughing at our patheticness. But finally we arrive at Slausen's.
"Slausen's? Helga, it's freezing out here. How in the world can you want ice cream?" he asks, shooting me a quizzical look.
"Dude, are you daft, man? It's never too cold for ice cream." Rolling my eyes, I add, "besides, they have hot cocoa too. You know, if you're a baby and all."
"I'm not a baby."
"Says he who once wore a deep sea diving suit to school."
"Touché."
Giving him a genuine smile, I open the door. "Come on, my treat."
But he pauses in the doorway to return my smile and place a hand on my shoulder. "Thanks, Helga. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Sid."
