Love Is Like A Baseball Bat
Chapter Two - Family Matters
The class groaned as they each took out their journals and began to write. Arnold didn't mind it too much, he figured it was better than a boring lesson.
I still can't sleep. Grandma keeps me up with songs and stories and costumes and holidays. Sometimes I wish she was normal. . . but if she was normal, she wouldn't be my grandmother.
Writing of normal, Arnold internally laughed at his very stupid joke, Helga and I crashed into each other again. For the millionth time. But it was nice to see her, I guess. She had been gone for three months and a day. I was surprised to learn I was so worried about her yesterday. I mean, I worry about everyone, but she's the only one who doesn't care. I guess that's why I care so much. Because she doesn't.
His eyes re-read the next words over and over again. Did he actually just write that?Since when did he think that? He quickly ran his pen across the words, crossing out the sentences.
What had come over him? Arnold held his throbbing head. He must've fallen harder than he thought. He glanced up to see everyone else still writing, but he could only focus on the crossed out paragraphs: Despite what everyone thinks, Helga's actually really nice. She always does the right thing, even if I have to encourage her, which I don't totally hate. I actually really like it. It's nice to be the one to see her behave and show her true colors.
I'm just glad she stopped most of the immature bullying (but the nicknames stuck for some reason) and she. . .I don't know, she's grown up. She changed a lot. Normally, when we run into each other, she would've yelled at me more or pushed me down again or laughed or something.
But when she opened her eyes today, and I really looked at her, I saw something I'd never seen before. Something in her eyes, like she was happy to be lying on the floor with me. She has really pretty eyes, actually. If you actually looked at Helga, without letting her attitude or her past cloud your judgement, you'd think Helga was absolutely stunning. I do. Sometimes.
Arnold pressed his head to his desk, afraid to write any more. These ideas were totally unlike him. Where did this idea come from? And why couldn't he stop thinking about Helga G. Pataki?
Helga's heart thudded as she realized Arnold was in her next class, biology. Instead of desks, there were solid black tables that sat four students, covered with test tubes and other gadgets Helga didn't have the slightest interest in. She sat with her back to the white board. Gerald snuck up behind Phoebe and kissed her on the cheek. Helga rolled her eyes as she turned around to give the couple a second alone before the bell rang.
Arnold came in a few seconds later and sat across from Gerald, who sat beside Phoebe, who was sitting across from Helga. Simply put, Helga was next to Arnold. Oh, thank you Phoebe for dating Gerald! Helga screamed in her mind as she turned around to watch the couple smile at each other.
"Whoever you are sitting next to is now your lab partner for the rest of the year," their teacher smiled. "And our first lab will happen tomorrow. It will be pretty extensive, but I think you all can handle it. You're juniors, after all."
Helga almost fainted. Arnold and I working together. . . for the rest of the year! she held in her urge to release a girly squeal.
Arnold's mind was on anything but biology at the moment. He still couldn't stop thinking about his English journal. He looked up, only to realize Helga was actually smiling at him. When she realized he was looking back at her, she put her scowl back on and turned to face the board.
"The experiment is explained all on this," their teacher handed out a small packet to each table. "I want you to work on the pre-questions tonight and answer them as completely as possible, please. We're studying genetics fist."
Arnold smiled to himself, still thinking about his journal entry. Helga did look happy for a few seconds. But the moment passed.
"Helga? Do you want to do the questions together tonight?" Arnold smiled as Helga looked up from her notebook.
He wants to come over to my house tonight! "Uh. . .sure, Arnold. We can do them at my place, it should be quiet tonight." I hope, she thought.
Arnold laughed, "Good, because my grandma's been on this singing kick and -"
"Alright, now let's get started!" Their teacher was too enthusiastic for third period.
H-A!-H-A!
"I have to warn you, nothing's changed in the past five years or whatever," Helga shrugged as she kicked open her front door. Miram was passed out on the couch and Bob was still at work. Helga knew Arnold was going to try to say something to her mother,"Don't even bother, Arnold. Come on, upstairs."
Arnold realized her tone wasn't as demanding as it usually was. It was softer, almost coming as a suggestion. He was surprised to see that Helga seemed so defeated, in her own home of all places.
"Well, let's get this over with," she sighed as she dropped down on her bed, backpack at her side.
Arnold was uncomfortable. He always seemed to be whenever he was in Helga's room. He didn't know why. "Where should I sit?"
"You can sit on my bed, Football Head. It won't bite. I, on the other hand, can't make any promises," she smirked as she focused on her lab.
Arnold sat down, laughing. For now, the thought of FTi and his journal were far from his mind. He was just focused on biology. "Question one: What is a Punnett Square?"
"No idea," Helga answered.
"Come on, open your book. It's gotta be in there."
"Why can't you?" And the tone is back, Arnold thought.
"I didn't bring mine."
"Oh, what a great excuse," she teased as she picked her heavy text book out of her backpack. In the process, her pink notebook fell to the floor. Crap, she thought as Arnold's eyes went to the floor, I really should put that in another pocket!
Helga threw herself from her bed, only to find herself lying on top of Arnold. The two had dove for the notebook at the same time. Why Arnold wanted it was beyond Helga. Unless. . .Helga smiled as Arnold grabbed the book and sat up, lower back still on the floor and elbows holding him up.
The two were inches from each other. Their whole bodies were touching, her upper body resting on his, but their faces were close. He could feel her warm breath on his cheek. Her eyes shined again. "Can I have my book back?"
"Maybe," Arnold pushed Helga up and now the two were holding onto each other. Helga was shocked at his display of strength. Arnold never used force.
The two stared at each other in silence, still relying on each other to stand up. Their feet were fine and planted firmly on the ground, but Arnold was finding it hard to stand. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, either, it was just quiet.
Helga was enjoying just standing there, letting Arnold wrap one arm around her waist while the other held onto her arm. Her stomach was in knots as she looked at him. He was looking at her with half-lidded eyes, a look she could never resist. "We should probably get back to work," she surprised herself by returning to her bed.
Arnold slowly sat back down, handing her the poetry book in the process. What the heck was that? he wondered as Helga looked up the definition of a Punnett Square. Did we just have a moment?
The two worked in silence, only asking questions from the biology sheet. The worked as a team, taking turns to look up definitions and writing down the answer.
Suddenly, the front door slammed. The walls shook and Helga jumped off the bed. "Arnold, you should go. Now!"
"What's wrong?"
"Bob's not in a good mood," Helga quickly opened her door, only to hear Bob screaming profanities. She shut it again. "You need to leave."
"How? If he's down there -"
"The window!" She locked her bedroom door and opened the window. A branch was just close enough that Arnold could reach it with minimal effort.
"OLGA! OLGA! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE, NOW!" Bob's voice echoed against the walls.
"Arnold, go. I'll see you tomorrow."
Arnold grabbed his bags and was halfway out the window before stopping himself. What was he doing? One of his friends was in trouble. Granted, they weren't close friends, but Helga was still a friend. He turned around and grabbed onto her arm. "I won't leave until I know you're okay."
"OLGA! WHAT DID I SAY?"
Helga rolled her eyes, "Wait here."
Arnold pressed his ear to the door after she left. He heard Helga first, "WHAT BOB?"
"Bring me my dinner!"
"I'm not your wife! Make her cook!"
"You're my daughter, missy! You do what I say!"
"I'm not your slave!" Helga barked back. Arnold could almost see the rage in her face, judging by the tone of voice.
"You will do what I say! You live under my house!"
"Shut your pie hole, Bob! I don't want to live in this house! You don't care about me!"
"MAKE ME MY DINNER OR GET OUT!"
The yelling stopped. Arnold stepped back from the door. He was scared about what was going to happen. With Helga, it could be unpredictable. She could show up injured, or crying, or still angry.
The door flew open and Helga slammed it shut. Her whole room began to shake as she glared at the floor. "You're still here?"
"I told you I wouldn't leave until I knew you were okay," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. Helga looked hurt.
"Just leave, Arnold!" Helga's voice was louder and angrier than before. She turned her head away quickly, trying to hide the fact that she was crying. Arnold felt twisted, like his heart was being broken and his stomach was tightening. He hated seeing anyone cry, but seeing Helga cry was like. . . something he didn't expect to care so much about.
"Helga," Arnold's voice was soft and gentle. She glared at him, one tear rolling down her left cheek. Arnold carefully stepped forwards and hesitantly wiped the tear off, "I'm sorry."
She stepped back, "Why do you care? It's not your fault my dad's an asshole."
"Are you okay?"
Helga rolled her eyes as she sat on her bed. She was crying! Of course she was fine. . . Not! "Do I look okay?" she barked.
"I. . . I. . . "
"Arnold, I really think you should go."
"Please, stop crying," Arnold begged as he sat beside her. He pulled her into him and she still cried.
Helga, the normally strong, powerful, angry bully, was too tired from the constant fights with her parents. They fought for hours on end some nights. If Miram was awake, she'd yell at Bob, who then would yell at Helga, calling her "Olga" and demanding she do something. She never did anything for him. And why should she? He didn't even know her name!
Helga had finally reached the breaking point. This had been happening since sixth grade, and she couldn't take it anymore. So she cried. And to Arnold, she thought sadly as she shut her eyes and tried to force herself to stop.
Arnold, who always comforted everyone, simply rubbed Helga's back, whispering soothing things. He usually didn't truly mean what he said to make the person feel better. He meant for a moment, maybe, but no one cared if he meant it or not. He was Arnold, the "go to" guy, the advice guy. He didn't mind it much, but it was moments like now, when people he'd never expect come to him, that he didn't know how to act. His biggest fear was that he didn't know if she'd hit him or not.
Helga stopped crying and sat herself up, off of Arnold's shoulder. She flashed a pathetic, tired smile. "I'm okay," she lied. Luckily, she was a good liar.
"Are you sure?" Arnold asked, green eyes staring at her, filled with so much concern. Helga tried to keep her mind off of him at the moment.
"Yeah, really. Thanks, Arnold. I'll see you tomorrow."
Arnold hugged her quickly before standing and scaling down her tree. As soon as he was down and out of sight, Helga collapsed against her bed and hugged her pillow. He hugged me! He comforted me! Oh, my love is so sweet! She smiled as she quickly crossed the hall and stepped into a shower. The scent of Arnold - his shampoo, AXE, and bubble gum - lingered with Helga as she went to bed that night.
Arnold found his palm pressed against his phone while the other held Helga's silk ribbon. It was only ten p.m., and Arnold wanted to be sure that Helga was okay. He hadn't told anyone , even though Gerald had asked, about what happened today. Arnold knew Helga would hate it if everyone knew she cried over fighting with her parents.
Arnold slowly brought his hand off the phone and rested it on his bed. He still toyed with the silk ribbon, finally falling asleep at three a.m. to the sound's of his grandmother's trumpet. . .
"Where did you get this?" an innocent three year old held the fabric between her fingers, smiling.
Arnold didn't know what he was doing, where he was, or why he didn't recognize this little girl. He assumed it was Helga. Who else would wear a pink bow?
"I found it one day, you lost it when you were running," he replied, bending down to her height.
The girl tugged on the bow on her head, "But I didn't lose it."
"You will," he replied quietly. "And I just wanted to be sure you had it, so you can keep it safe, okay?"
The girl nodded before walking away, pink ribbon in hand, "Thanks Arnold."
He smiled brightly as she disappeared.
"Arnold?" Arnold looked up to see sixteen year old Helga, smiling. "You. . . you kept my bow?"
"I always felt bad about never giving it back," he admitted.
"I can't believe you kept my bow. I thought I just threw it away. . . I loved this bow. Do you know why?"
Suddenly, rain poured from the sky and Arnold quickly ran towards the familiar building. Helga had disappeared. Arnold found himself watching a younger version of himself standing in the rain, beside the Packard, smiling at three year old Helga.
"I like your bow," he said. So, that's why she wore it. Because I said I liked it. Is that why she lov-
Arnold's eyes flew open as he alarmed blared, "Hey Arnold! Hey Arnold! Hey-", he unplugged it and made his way towards his bathroom.
That was a weird dream, Arnold rubbed his temples. Lack of sleep, crazy dreams, and his grandmother still playing instruments; this first week back to school was insane, to put it lightly. And it was only the third day! Arnold groaned, remembering he had baseball practice this afternoon. Their coach wanted to see "just how bad the team was".
Wednesday carried on as if it were never ending. It was hot, Arnold was tired, and he didn't want to bat today. He just wanted sleep.
"Go on, man, show everyone why you're the best," Gerald pushed his friend towards the plate.
The rest of the team had already hit a few balls. An automatic pitcher was set up to pitch the ball at ninety miles an hour, a real easy pitch for high school boys.
Arnold swung, waiting to hear the familiar crack as the ball went flying towards left field. Their coach smiled, "Good job Arnold."
Coach Diedrek was a sixty-something professional baseball coach. He coached the major leagues for a while, but retired. This was his first year as a high school baseball coach. Talk about going down on the career ladder.
Diedrek was still in shape for an older guy, always wearing baseball pants, a t-shirt and a baseball cap. He owned one for every team in the Major Leagues. Diedrek saw the potential of his new high school team, and knew how to get them motivated. But he wouldn't start really coaching until their season started in the fall. They'd have regular weekly practices, and weekend games against each other, to stay in shape for the season. He wanted Hillwood to actually win a game this year.
"Thanks," Arnold stepped off the plate.
"Okay, guys, can any of you pitch?" No one answered. The coach sighed, "I was afraid of that. Alex!"
The assistant coach walked towards the pitcher's mound. "Yeah, Coach?"
"I want you to find a pitcher. Search the school in your free time. There has to be someone halfway decent!"
"Yes, Sir," Alex replied.
"Great, now go hit the showers boys!" Diedrek pulled Alex off to the side, "Hang out here. Someone has to come around. I'll take anyone who can pitch above ninety. I can drill him hard and long during this off season. I just want a pitcher!"
"I'll find you the best one, Sir," Alex reassured his boss.