CHAPTER TWO

The First Day of School

Arnold P. Shortman pulled his pocket watch out from his jeans, and checked the time absentmindedly. When he returned the watch to his pocket, he realized he couldn't remember what he had just seen. Reluctantly, he pulled his watch out again and paid close attention to what time he saw.

It was 7:45, if he didn't catch a bus soon, he would be late for school.

He sighed loudly, drawing the attention of his best friend Gerald, who sat beside him on a cool metal bench.

"Anxious Arnold?" He asked, smirking at his friend with shallow eyelids. It was the first day of their senior year in high school.

"No, I just don't want to be late." They had been late to school the first day of every year since eighth grade, it had become almost a tradition. A tradition Arnold was more than eager to break. Neither of the boys could explain their repetitive first day tardiness, for every year they were late for a different reason.

This year, Arnold had taken every precaution. They packed their book bags a week in advance, slept in their school clothes the night before, and had gotten to the bus stop a whole fifteen minutes earlier than usual.

If they were going to be late this year, it would be from destiny, not carelessness. Arnold's mind wandered back to their visit to the Gypsy the previous day, and he shook off her mindless predictions about destiny.

Speaking of destiny, there the bus was now. The door opened in front of the boys, and they quickly exchanged glances.

"Well... this is it." Arnold said, rising from his seat on the bench and entering the bus. He stopped at the top of the stairs, and dropped his fair into the receptacle. He looked back momentarily at his friend.

"If we sit down in this bus, anything that makes us late, will not be our fault." He made his way into the bus, with Gerald close behind him. As he walked through the rows of seats, heading to the backseat where he and Gerald preferred to sit, something caught his eye.

Not something, someone.

Sitting a few seats back from the driver, was a well dressed attractive girl. She had her own particular style, and Arnold found it fascinating. She was dressed like a vagabond poet, a wandering beatnik. Though she had the style of a homeless person, she was clearly not. The clothing was all new, and clean, and her hair was brushed and taken care of as well, hiding under a pink wool beanie. Her make-up was applied subtly as well, emphasizing, not masking, the natural beauty of her face. She was looking out the window, seemingly lost in thought, her mouth curved into a slight frown.

Arnold was entranced, and bumped into the side of the seat in front of him.

"Ow." He softly vocalized, drawing the attention of the mystery girl for half a second. As her face turned out of profile, Arnold realized who she was.

"Helga?" He realized how shocked he had sounded when he said her name, and quickly covered for it, "Uh, how was your summer?"

"Fine football head, thanks for asking." She answered grumpily, and turned back to the window, sighing. Something was amiss with her, and Arnold could tell.

"Man move it Arnold, there's no one in our seat." Gerald urged from behind him, gently pushing him forward with an open hand. Arnold nodded at Helga, even though she was no longer looking at him, and moved to the open backseat. Unbeknownst to him, Helga followed Arnold with her eyes as he took his seat.

"Senior year, this is it Arnold, the big one. The most important year of our lives."

"If you say so Gerald," Arnold said half-heartedly, his mind still stuck on how he had been so impressed by Helga, "I don't really think high school is that important. I mean, sure, now it seems like the biggest thing ever, but once we leave, are we still gonna have that opinion?"

"Don't depress me this early in the morning Arnold." Gerald joked. Arnold smiled back at him.

Then, destiny reared an ugly head. The Catalyst had been decided.

Later, the police would say that an overdose of sleeping aids had caused the driver's momentarily lapse in consciousness. They would say that the angle the bus hit the newspaper stand caused it to fly into the air. They would say that the impact with the ground caused the roof of the bus to cave in. The Gypsy might say different.

Arnold woke up on the bus's ceiling, he didn't know it yet, but his wrist was broken. His hat was gone, his hair was out of place, and sticky. Sticky with blood from where he had hit his head. His arms were wrapped around someone, but he didn't know why or who. Then she moved slightly, and groaned, and he realized it was Helga.

"Helga? are you alright?" He asked, the pain in his wrist had yet to manifest itself. His mind was too foggy to realize he was hurt.

"Arnold?" She asked softly, "Wh-what happened?"

"I... don't know. I think the bus crashed." Arnold looked around the bus, but his vision was blurry, and seemed to swell and collapse with every heartbeat. There was a buzzing in his left ear.

"No dip Sherlock..." Helga began sarcastically, "Why are you holding me?"

"I don't know... are you hurt?" He asked, his voice wrought with concern.

"No... I'm fine, my head aches a little. You cushioned my fall." She moved to stand up, "Thank you."

Arnold tried to prop himself up on his wrist, then felt the splintering pain in his bone. He gritted his teeth and inhaled through them. He pulled his hand back into his chest and held it with his good hand. Helga stood up on the bus, and other people started to do the same.

"Is everyone okay?" Someone toward the front called. Several answered in positive and negative responses. Arnold heard Gerald from afar.

"I'm good." The boy had said.

"Gerald?"

"Arnold?" Arnold stood up slowly, and walked over to his friend, "Dude, are you okay?"

"I don't know, my wrist kinda hurts."

"Where's Helga?"

"I'm right here." Helga pushed her way through two huddled eighth graders.

"I think we're gonna be late again this year." Gerald said to Arnold.

Arnold sat on a gurney next to Helga, his wrist in a brace.

"Arnold... the medic said I'm lucky you protected me, they think I might have fractured my skull if things had been different."

"Well, if it's any consolation... I didn't mean to protect you." Arnold said smiling. Helga smiled back, blushing. Gerald was being checked by a paramedic with a flashlight, so far, it didn't look like he had a concussion.

Arnold sighed and rubbed his thigh with his good hand. He doubted he would be making it to school today.

"Hey Helga, me and Gerald were going to get some burgers later today, do you want to come?" Without realizing it, Arnold had just invited Helga to dinner. He must've got a concussion.

"Uh... sure football head." Her eyes were wide as she stood up off the gurney, and walked over to her parents who had just arrived, "When?"

"Around eight I think. We'll come and get you." Arnold said as she walked away, smiling at him.

He watched her go, admiring her until his eyes met her father's, who was glaring. Arnold dropped his gaze to the ground, and waited for his Grandpa to arrive.

Arnold sat in an old sofa on his roof, watching the news. His head was bandaged, his wrist was casted, and his plaid pea coat was buttoned up completely, protecting his t-shirt adorned chest from the biting cold. Gerald sat next to him, holding the remote.

It was six o'clock on the first day of their senior year of high school, and they hadn't even gotten close to the school. Their was good news, their accident had earned them a spot on the six o'clock news, and they were waiting anxiously to watch it.

"Man, I hope they play my interview." Gerald said, in his t.v. show host voice.

"I hope they play the footage from the bus's camera."

"I don't know man, watching myself get thrashed up like that seems a little disturbing to me." Gerald rubbed his head, "I got more bruises than I can count, I'm not sure if I want to relive that."

"I want to see what... happened." Arnold hadn't told Gerald how he had saved Helga from injury, because frankly he wasn't sure how it happened. The tape would be the ultimate witness, and his actions would be revealed.

Then, Gerald's interview played on the t.v.

"S'me! Dude that's me!"

"Yeah," The televised Gerald spoke, "We were on our way to school, and the bus, flipped or something. I donno."

"I was born to be on camera, Arnold." Gerald said smiling. Then, the bus's footage was played.

Arnold watched as he and Gerald sat in the back seat, then everyone shifted to their left. The bus was flipping.