Set Me Free
Author's Note: I'm sorry I wasn't more specific on certain things like age. I tried to make this chapter more descriptive because I finally include part of the P.S. 118 gang, and since they're older, they're obviously going to look different than they were in fourth grade. Yes, Arnold and Helga are 14 years old in this fanfic, but I want to finish this story out with them a little bit older (hence the later sexual overtones). Please bear with me if it takes a while. I hope there are readers out there who like a long story. Anyway, enjoy and keep on reviewing!
Helga: One of Those Days
Thought that I was going crazy
Just having one of those days yeah
Didn't know what to do
Then there was you...
Kylie Minogue, "Love at First Sight"
May 2001
"Where's the damn bus?" I muttered, checking my watch impatiently. "It's after 7:30!"
As if on cue, the huge gray vehicle rolled to a stop in front of me. The double doors parted with a whoosh, revealing a bored zombie of a driver. He barely glanced at me as I deposited the money for the fare in a plastic coin box. That was fine with me, since I had business of my own to attend to; I headed straight for the back.
Plopping down in a seat, I unzipped my brown backpack. Nestled among the textbooks was a plain notebook that I pulled out. What it contained inside, though, was anything but ordinary. My secret thoughts were poured out on its pages. Dr. Bliss, the school psychologist, had suggested that I start this journal as a supplement to my poetry for venting my emotions (she knew all about my obsession for Arnold; more on that later). Although I followed her advice, I also guarded that particular book with my life. Furthermore, I required that all books for writing in public be a nondescript black. I didn't need Arnold making a correlation between me and the pink book of poetry he found back in fourth grade. I was only able to narrowly avert his discovery of me as the author that time, but I learned my lesson.
With this in mind, I quickly surveyed my surroundings. Except for a few noisy children younger than me up front, the nearest person was an old man and judging by his loud snoring, the prune didn't stand a chance of waking up to make his own stop, much less to spy on me. Without further hesitation, I unclipped the black pen attached to the journal, flipped to a clean sheet, and let the words flow forth:
Oh, Arnold, next week we shall graduate from P.S. 118. I have such mixed feelings about this.
On the one hand, I'll have completed one more milestone in my quest to rid myself of my ogre of a father. All he does anymore is fight, especially with my deadweight mother. It should be nothing new to me, yet I believe that matters have only intensified. Some kind of escalation of events will occur soon, of that I am sure.
Even Olga doesn't fully escape Dad's wrath. She couldn't be the concert pianist he wanted. No, my sister decided to move to Alaska five years ago so that she could teach impoverished Inuit children. What Bob never realized was that she did it for me as much for herself, to give Dad and me a chance together. Well, he's failed miserably, and I'm going to be just as successful as Olga was, only it'll be on my own terms, without ever looking back.
I also find myself at a crossroads with you, my love. We've been inseparable all these years in elementary school. Now we stand at the great precipice of high school. Everything will mutate beyond its recognizable form at present. How will I bear not to gaze at your distinctly football-shaped head each period? Will you even remember me as your childhood tormentor while you stroll through the halls of West Hillwood High? Surely not, for you have Lila to pine after...
As I scrawled that last sentence, my teeth clenched so firmly in anger that I had to slam my notebook shut to keep from shattering them. I absolutely, without a doubt, despised Lila Sawyer the most out of anyone in this world. Arnold had had the biggest, stupidest, la-di-da crush on her since fourth grade. If that wasn't enough, Lila happened to be one of the hugest phonies I'd ever had the misfortune of meeting besides the con man Olga almost married. Naturally, she was too shallow to give Arnold the time of day, so she'd been dangling him along like a sick puppy on a leash to the present day. I couldn't believe he allowed it to go on! The sweet, thoughtful boy who always took a stand on all other things, whether or not it was popular, permitted himself to be blinded just like everyone else by her cheery, wholesome routine.
My own involvement in the sordid affair summed up to be the beginnings of a horrible satire. I'd started it all with some writing on the wall, so to speak. To this day, I fervently wished I'd scribbled "Arnold loves Helga" instead of "Arnold loves Lila," because things might've been much different. Let's just say I won't ever again contribute to the wonderful art of graffiti. Later, after Lila had rejected Arnold, I succumbed to periods of temporary insanity by inventing disastrous schemes to deliver him from Lila's devious clutches. I'd even resorted to confessing my love for him to her in order to be opposite Arnold in the title roles of Romeo and Juliet. Kissing him onstage before any girl had more than made up for any chagrin I'd went through. If I never had another happy moment in my life, I could recall the soft kiss and live on that.
Still, I wondered what Lila thought of the fact that she held both of our fates in her hands. That didn't mean I wouldn't hesitate to thoroughly trounce her ass if she ever did vocalize my secret.
The red brick structure of P.S. 118 appeared in my window, interrupting my musings. However, I didn't have to yank on the cord to notify the driver I needed to get off. Because of the clamoring children, he instantly halted in front of the school. Sighing, I put the notebook away, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and followed the bouncing rugrats outside.
Groups of students milled about near the immense concrete steps that led inside. None of them interested me except a petite girl with faint Asian features. She was standing alone at the foot of the steps, burdened down with heavy textbooks. This was Phoebe.
"One side, moron!" I hissed to my a shrimpy kid who was in my way.
"Helga, I was waiting for someone-" he started in a futile attempt to reason with me.
"Move it, geek-bait, or you'll have to answer to Old Betsy!" I growled menacingly, shaking my beloved fist in his face.
I smiled as the kid scattered. I was legendary at P.S. 118 for causing a load of trouble for both faculty and students alike. The only one who could beat me to the punch was Big Patty Smith, and she'd gone to high school about two years ago.
Still grinning, I ambled up to my best friend. "Hey, Phoebs! How are the contacts working out?"
Phoebe's expressive black eyes, recently liberated of her former coke-bottle glasses, danced. "Fine, Helga." She looked like she fit to burst. "Helga, have you heard the news?" she abruptly blurted out.
Wow, Phoebe's really excited, I marveled. She's always so restrained unless something important comes up.
"No, what?" I inquired noncommittally, shrugging.
"Rhonda is throwing a graduation party," my best friend revealed eagerly.
My eye automatically roved over to Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd's usual perch at the top of the steps. A tall, skinny brunette, she was surrounded by her clique of snobs as self-absorbed and loaded as she was. As the established socialite in our class, she always hosted the "bashes of the season." What I didn't understand was why Phoebe could be so animated for this particular one. Rhonda's tirades at these events about finger sandwiches and "cool" people wasn't anything new.
"Big deal," I scoffed indifferently. "I'm not going. I wouldn't be caught dead there."
"I would, Helga, even if you're too scared to take any risks," Phoebe sniffed, apparently hurt.
She was referring to Arnold, whom she'd known about forever, even if I hadn't literally told her in so many words. The blow was low, I had to admit, yet I couldn't deny that I didn't deserve it. "I'm sorry, Phoebe."
"That's all right." She adjusted the weight of her backpack to her thin shoulder blades and produced an embossed invitation from her purse. "Rhonda is inviting everybody. You should attend, Helga; it's the last time our class will be together like this."
"Phoebe..." My best friend was at it again with the Arnold bullshit. She'd always urged me to tell Arnold how I felt about him.
Phoebe took the hint, but she switched to a subject that was just as baiting. "Well, I'm going to ask Gerald to go with me. What do you think?"
Gerald Johanssen was Arnold's best friend. It was kind of funny how Phoebe had taken a shine to him as much I had to Arnold. She was always so intelligent and practical, the complete opposite of Gerald. He was all about seeking attention and smooth talking. Then again, to a reticent girl like Phoebe, he must've seemed appealing in a flashy way. Although I personally found him to be rather annoying, I didn't have the heart to let her know that! This was the first time she was deciding to act upon her desires, and who was I to rain on her parade? Besides, the possibility of Arnold going suddenly made Rhonda's get-together appear a lot more attractive.
"When's the party?" I questioned, flashing her one of my rare grins of genuine enthusiasm.
"Next Friday, right after graduation, of course," Phoebe reported, gazing at me expectantly.
My smile grew even wider as another gray bus pulled up and a certain football-headed boy stepped out. "Count me in," I professed flamboyantly