First off, an apology. Sorry everyone. My ex has got himself back into my life and we're all chummy now. So all of my spare time and attention go to him and his spoiled golden retriever. Plus we're adopting a cat! I deeply apologize for how I've dropped off the map. I honestly say I am rueful about how little time I have for writing these days. So thank you all for following me so faithfully. I will write again as I find it in myself, but right now, I am so tired from work and the home life that my brain is all fuzz. This is not my best writing ever and so this is a reflection of all that. With love for my cherished audience, Inudaughter.
The next day came swiftly enough. It looked to be a happy day for Arnold and Gerald, but when they arrived at the classroom, the mood of their usual, cheerful, exuberant class had changed.
"Why is everyone down in the dumps today?"
"I dunno," said Helga, her arm on one knee and her face planted in her hand as she posed, leant forward. She jiggled her foot impatiently.
"Everyone is moping like they flunked quarter exams or somethin'. The sad news doesn't even have anything to do with them. I mean, no one here even knows Katrinka."
"Katrinka?" asked Arnold, startled. Helga jerked her thumb sideways, towards one of the seats by the classroom window.
"Ask Eugene about it. He knows more than I do."
"Alright," said Arnold standing on his feet and moving over towards the redheaded boy by the window.
"Eugene?" Arnold asked softly, his voice melting its bite to something soft and sweet like honey. Eugene anticipated his question.
"Oh, hello Arnold," Eugene said without his customary smile. "You must have heard the news, huh? Is there something you'd like to add to our good-luck banner? A poem? A memory perhaps?"
"Eugene, what happened to Katrinka?" Arnold asked sitting down in the chair next to the red-haired boy.
"Oh! You haven't heard? I'm sorry to tell you this Arnold, but Katrinka is seriously ill. She is scheduled for a surgery next week. It's risky, but it's her only way of improving!" Eugene said, extending his hands outward, wrists upturned, shoulders hunched, with a gesture that spoke of acknowledgment of the bare truth. "We all are doing what we can do to encourage Katrinka and her parents. That's why we're making this neat banner, see? Her parents will pick up the banner, then take it with them when they go to be with Katrinka on her operation day."
"That's sad. But I'm glad you're doing something to help, Eugene. How is Big Gino taking it?" Arnold observed with compassion, even for a boy he really did not like.
"He's taking the week off from school to be there for the grand day of healing! Hopefully. Say Arnold, do you have a message to pass on to Katrinka? So I can write it on our banner?"
"Well. Nothing special, Eugene," said Arnold after nearly biting his index finger as he thought. His eyes slanted down as he dedicated himself to speculation with a loud "hmm".
"How about, get well soon, Katrinka?" Arnold decided after a long, dramatic pause.
"Um, Arnold, I was hoping for something a little more specific. You now, splashier! Glamorous. More personalized."
"Sheesh." said Helga, interrupting the two of them by slapping a glossy magazine page with the back of her hand to make a deliberately loud noise. "Might as well make it into one your little theatre productions," Helga rolled her eyes upwards before hiding her face behind a magazine which interested her. Tatoos Today. Just in case she wanted one herself some day. Arnold peered at the magazine cover with puzzled interest, checking then rechecking what sort of reading material Helga was using. Annoyed, Helga put the magazine down and pulled out a Stock Advisory magazine instead.
But then Gerald walked into the room, followed separately by Blake. Both boys stopped by Eugene on the way to their desks on either side of the geeky red-haired boy. They both peered down at the stretched out banner draped across Eugene's desk. Gerald spoke first.
"What's shaking Eugene? Those are some serious preparations." Gerald took the edge of the banner in his hand and felt the texture of the fabric between his fingers to test the quality. He laid the banner down with a smile of approval.
"We're all going to cheer on Katrinka, together as a class. As the fourth grade, really. Do you want to add your name and a message?"
"Sure!" quipped Gerald before taking a permanent marker from Eugene and adding scrawls to the banner. He recapped the pen before his eyes with the air of a samurai returning a ceremonial sword to its sheath. After the gentle click, Gerald stood tall and proud as he offered the pen back to Eugene to take. Phoebe clasped her hands and silently squealed in delight. Helga rolled her eyes at Gerald's flourish and flipped a page of her magazine before settling her eyes on Arnold's tufts of hair and the view of him pacifically doodling in his notebook. She sighed dreamily. Meanwhile, the red-haired boy, Eugene, leant forward in his desk chair, almost bowing to Gerald's coolness as he reclaimed his pen.
"Hey, lemme add my name to the banner, too." Blake offered gently. "Katrika might not know me, but we are still in the same grade. Can you fill me in on exactly what is happening with her?"
"Well, like I said to Arnold," Eugene explained, yet again. "Katrinka has an illness that requires surgery. But she's scared. We all need to do what we can to encourage her."
"Have you spoken with Katrinka?" Blake inquired, tilting his head slightly.
"Oh, yes!" said Eugene. "We've met in the hospital before when I was healing up from one of my accidents. But Lila and Gloria talk to her by phone sometimes. Nadine and Rhonda are friends with Katrinka, too, apparently, only they don't talk too much."
"Different circles, I guess," uttered Gerald posturing. "I'm not sure I've ever met the girl in my life. It's a good thing you're doing for her though," said Gerald with a wink. "Keep us posted on how it goes, alright?"
"What hospital is she in?" Blake asked politely.
"Brave Kids Medical. It's five hours drive from here."
"That's a good hospital," observed Blake. "I've been there before."
"You have, huh?" Gerald commented, his eyebrow lifting. "No offense, but does this have anything to do with the story of how you got yourself in a wheelchair?"
"It does," acknowledged mildly. "Why?"
"Well, Blake, my pal," said Gerald turning on his salesmanship charm. "I'm kind of curious to know. You could make good on that promise to explain it all since we're on the topic of hospitals and such."
"Well, it's a long story. How about after school?"
"Sure. Only I have baseball practice. You can come on down and watch me and the other kids play if you like, then hang out. Sound like a plan?"
"Sounds like a plan," Blake repeated. The raven haired boy smiled mildly, happy to be accepted within the class. But Gerald's best friend was undisputably still Arnold, so Gerald turned toward to the blond-haired boy and promptly ignored Blake.
Still, when the after school hours had arrived Blake was comfortable when Eugene, Sid, and Nadine did the boy a favor by carrying his chair up onto the sidewalk to Gerald's Field. Gerald was busy practicing his best throw with Rhonda who miraculously never missed a practice. Second to Helga, Rhonda was easily the best female athlete of their school. Beyond the line of Gerald and Rhonda's practice zone, Arnold and Helga were standing by first base, arguing again. At first the quarrel was too quiet to hear, but as Blake's wheelchair got closer, he could make out the voices of the two.
Helga waved her hands wildly in short, rapid strokes. "What do I want?" she muttered in a matter-of-fact tone. "What does any girl want? To know if you're repeating speeches of others you can not comprehend." said Helga pointing accusingly with her finger. "You like to preach, Arnold. Is that all a reflection of who you are, or are you just an imitation of someone you admire?" Helga lay a fierce, observing eye on Arnold as if trying to discern if he were a fake ming dynasty vase. She turned her back, cross her arms, and humphed.
"That's not fair, Helga!" Arnold objected, his eyes cross. "I'm not trying to insult you. I just think that you should… Oh, hi Blake," Arnold ended softly. "We were just…"
"They're always like that," Gerald whispered to Blake. "I pity the boy. He's found his ball and chain already."
"What are you two talking about?" Helga cut in shrilly.
"Nothing," Gerald answered with a fake grin, his hands tucked behind his back. He rolled his eyes backwards, then coughed. "Yeah, we just love baseball, don't we Blake?"
"Can I have a go as pitcher?" Blake piped up. Everyone stared at Blake as they considered the idea.
"I don't see why not," Gerald answered for the group at last. Helga lowered her face mask over her head and stalked a few steps to squat just behind the home plate. Then she pounded her fist into her glove.
"Alright, let's get this show on the road," she demanded. Arnold gave a relieved whoof, smiled, then took his place as shortstop. They played a brief, rapid game of baseball with Blake included for a few minutes. Afterwards, Arnold and Gerald snuck off to the bleachers to laugh and talk and complain about Helga, doing their thumbshake thing. Blake wheeled himself closer.
"Hey," Gerald shouted across the field from the bleachers with a smile. "You wanna go over to Slaussens to talk? Just us men?"
"I would," said Blake, smiling. Behind him, Sid pushed Blake's chair.
"Ooh, ooh! Who wants to buy me some icecream?" the boy danced, enthused.
"I guess we'll put in to cover your tab, just this once," Gerald said cleverly before swinging his finger at Sid. "Push the chair."
"Yes, sir!" said Sid dancing at the thought of icecream.
Things did not seem excitingly different at P.S. 118 for a time. Then, Mr. Simmons came into the classroom an unusual five minutes late. "Class, class!" sang their balding teacher as he flung open the door, one hand on the half-turned doorknob. "Come with me outside. Today, we have a very special meeting and a field trip to Lark Park."
"Lark Park," said Gerald his squinting one eye. "What's the appeal of going there? Didn't we find all the nature it had to offer last year? Plus a couple of steel-rimmed tires."
"Oh, this is not a nature-study Gerald," voiced Mr. Simmons with unusual graveness. "This is special event. We are going to go and meet Katrinka's parents. Eugene, do you have the banner?"
"Right here!" said the boy tripping onto the floor and dropping the rolled flag. Stinky picked it up to carry for him.
"Rhonda do you have the bouquet of flowers?"
"Right here, Mr. Simmons!" chirped Rhonda. Harold batted at the flowers which she had swung right into his face.
"Get 'em away, get 'em away! They're stinky!" complained Harold rubbing his nose.
"Aw, nonsense Harold!" Rhonda countered. "They smell magnifique!" Rhonda batted her eyes a few times, her fingertips spread against her chest as she popped up her heel.
Harold sneezed, then muttered under his breath.
The class then followed Mr. Simmons out of the school building. In the schoolyard they met up with the teacher from the classroom across the hall and all her students. Together, the entire grade stumbled into the park very near to their school. They passed the monkey bars and its accompanying pit of sand. Instead of going to the children's area, they headed for two benches and a patch of trees. On one of the park benches sat a middle-aged couple- a man and his wife. These two clung to one another at their class' approach.
Curiously, Sheena had brought along her cello in its music case. This, she laid down on a park bench. She cracked the case open and held her instrument wordlessly, string-bow poised and ready to begin playing it at any moment. Mr. Simmons greeted the older middle-aged couple who were seated on the the second park bench.
"Hello? Mr. and Mrs. Dalia? We're here to give you our best wishes for you and your daughter. She is a dear classmate and is missed," explained Mr. Simmons nobly. "Sheena?"
At Mr. Simmon's cue, Sheena played a low, not too sad but a little moody song. Fortunately for Arnold, her cello skills had improved somewhat over the last year.
"Mr. and Mrs. Dalia? This is for your family," Mr. Simmons explained as he and Stinky Peterson unfurled the the banner the entire grade had scribbled on. Then he rerolled the banner and handed it almost regally to the father. Rhonda trotted up the mother next and handed her the flowers.
"I picked them myself. I have elegant taste," Rhonda could not resist saying. Katrinka's mother clutched the bouquet close to her chest.
"Thank you," she uttered.
"Tell Katrinka we send her our best wishes," Katrinka's homeroom teacher demanded, adjusting her sharp-rimmed spectacles.
"We will," her father answered.
"How about a big hug everybody?!" Eugene hollered. He stumbled five steps forward then tripped on his own sandals and fell down in front of the couple. The wife looked down at Eugene.
"Do you recognize that boy, honey?" the mother asked.
"Yeah. After that tumble, I do," said the father still looking down at Eugene before the boy leapt up and gave the two a warm hug. But they smiled.
"Thank you for Katrinka's sake. And ours," they said still smiling. Soon they left the park, carrying the banner away. Sheena struck up a happy, wishful tune. Every waved and shouted good luck. Gerald spoke a few casual words with Arnold, with Helga lurking behind, openly eavesdropping on every word. Then Gerald turned to Blake.
"Is there something the matter, friend?" asked Gerald. "You look particularly bummed."
"No," Blake answered simply. "I'm just… thinking hard. I remember my own days not knowing what the future will bring. Not being who I was before. It makes me wonder what might have been if I hadn't been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But accidents happen. My life may be different now. But... I'm still here. There's a lot of life left for me to accomplish, and I look forward to experiencing all of it," said Blake with a smile.
"I'm proud of you man," Gerald declared with sincere reverence. "I'm touched. But you can talk about it anytime you need. Just so you know."
"Oh, yeah!" said Blake, a sudden revelation occurring to him. "We were having such a good time at Slaussen's I forget to tell you all that story."
"Our story?"
"Not my story," said Blake with a firm smile. "A story. I have a lot of them to tell!" Blake looked towards Mr. Simmons, who was shooing the class back to school. "But I hope there is a happy resolution for Katrinka," Blake said, his smile turning to a frown.
"Yeah, me too, man," Gerald quietly agreed.
"The best thing we can do now is to think positive! We'll keep wishing good wishes for her swift recovery," Eugene interjected, still dancing on his sandaled feet.
"Mm," Gerald murmured softly before they got back to the normal schedule of things.
There was nothing the class could do but wait. On one afternoon filled with the lazy lounging around of idle youth, many of the boys from Mr. Simmons class walked by Hillwood Cemetery. Through the broad iron gates, they could see the grass and tomb-stone strewn area.
"Say," Stinky Peterson flustered. "Isn't that a new grave way out yonder in the boneyard?"
"Lemme see, lemme see!" Sid blurted out trying to peer around his taller, lanky friend. They both squinted.
"Dang, can't see nothin' from here!" Stinky Peterson lamented. "You figure it's Katrinka?"
"Pft. No it's not," Arnold disagreed firmly, his skeptical side coming out full force in his tone.
"No, it is, it is, it is! Probably," Harold blurted. He waved his fists around up and down in earnest before calming. It was an established tradition among the boys now. To find out which one of them had the most guts. And it was Arnold whose daring had grown disproportionate to his height. With devil-may-care, it was him who did not flinch to stride towards the cemetery gates. If Helga had been there to see him, she would have sighed anew with heart-throbbed delight.
"Augh. I'll find out," Arnold explained himself wearily as he trod towards the gates as the other boys cowered behind him. Arnold entered the cemetery. He walked until he neared the newest stone monument. He approached it cautiously. But he found a name very different from Katrinka's. Arnold's eyelids lowered in disgust.
"See? I told you." Arnold blurted out loud even though the other boys were likely still too far away on the other side of the fence to hear. Then he looked over toward his friends Stinky, Sid, and Harold to find Helga had joined them. The girl looked hunched over and grumpy. But the first dare had made him brash.
"Hey Helga," Arnold commented. Then making his second dare for the day, he brushed two of his fingers across the back of Helga's hand. She stiffened and corrected her posture so that she was no longer hunched. In fact, she seemed to lean a tiny bit backwards before she took a tiny, tender step back.
"Whaaa...wha...wha are you doing out here, Arnoldo?" Helga questioned. "There are fun things to see and do! What, you envy to be an historian or somethin'?"
"Nah," said Arnold shaking his head negative.
"It wasn't Katrinka's grave or nothin?" Stinky piped up.
"No, it wasn't Stinky," Arnold affirmed.
"Shoot. Well, let's all get us some snacks then!" Stinky Peterson muttered. The boys and Helga all moved on to find something more interesting to do.
Elsewhere in Hillwood, Gerald was shopping with his father and brother Jameo. A video rental store nearby was filled with posters for films mean to enthuse him. But Gerald had seen all those films posted. Twice. So he stood by the counter waiting with a bored, half-lidded stare, one movie to rent in his hand. He pulled his head up in mild surprise when his eyes fell on Blake propelling his wheelchair through the wide aisles of the store.
"Blake?" Gerald inquired, holding his head up as his eyes re-confirmed what he was looking at. The new school friend was pulling down a small selection of videos to stack on his lap. "What's up, man?"
"Oh, I'm preparing for family night," said Blake.
"Me, too," Gerald said with a small smile. "I got an action flick myself. But mother is probably going to make us watch one of those nature documentaries." Gerald shuttered. "Funny thing, my best friend likes those, too."
"Yeah?" commented Blake. "Well, I've got an alien invader movie and an old black and white classic. I'm curious. Have you ever seen these two?" Gerald took the movie box from Blake's hand. Then he nodded his head in assent.
"The first one, yeah, yeah!" the boy said before rambling on some details. Blake took down a new box from the shelf and looked at it sadly. "This reminds me of the day the accident occurred. I had picked this film out for movie night," said Blake showing Gerald face of the movie box. There were cartoon characters on the paper print used to decorate the hard plastic cover. Gerald squinted at the box. Then, looking at Blake's sad face, he gently pressed Blake's hand down and took the movie box away from him to set it on the shelf.
"So you were caught up in the bad news headline for the local newsprint. It's not your fault, man. The whole world is full of dangerous places. Half the time, I'm scared for my life when I walk out the door of J-Mart," said Gerald posturing as if terrified. "Some of the drivers here here are unbelievable. For example, there's this crazy cat lady who lives nearby Phoebe's place. She drives so bad it makes a grown man shudder. I've seen people with shopping carts dive out of her way more than a few times. Then there's Arnold's grandparents. Or my brother with his street-legal dragster. But especially Arnold's grandparents. Better to stick to the sidewalks."
"I can just see that in my head," said Blake with a small smile working its way back onto his face. "But it makes me wonder how Katrinka is doing. Being in the hospital is not the most enjoyable thing to do with one's time. I hope she is getting better."
"Well," said Gerald thinking. "We could call up Arnold's homie, Eugene. He might know. Look, write me down your number and I'll call Eugene to have him call you." The agreement was made, and soon Balke was sitting down at his home enjoying movie night with his family when the phone rang. Blake excused himself to answer the phone himself. He put the receiver to his ear and listened.
"Oh, she's not doing well? She hasn't had the surgery yet? Why not? She's scared? Oh." Blake frowned. "Eugene. Could you do me a favor? I'd like to call Katinka myself. Is there a way I can get in contact with her? Okay. Alright. Thanks. Goodbye." Blake finished writing down a note on a memo pad. Then he rolled himself back into the living room, a grim look on his face until his mother handed him a bowl of popcorn. "Thanks," said Blake smiling again.
It was not long before, at a hospital far away, the elevator doors rolled open and Blake rolled out. His parents walked out the elevator behind Blake and he smiled at them. "Thanks, mom. Dad. I won't be long."
"We'll read some magazines, son," said his father before settling himself on the sofa of a waiting room. Blake rolled himself down the hall. At the far end of the hall, he knocked on the door to the room. A small, scared voice answered.
"Hello?" came the voice of a frightened girl. Katrinka peeked out from beneath her bedcovers.
"Hi. Katrinka? I'm Blake. We talked on the phone?"
"Oh. Yeah," said Katrinka, still hiding beneath her covers. "At least you're not a nurse. Every one of them wants me to have the surgery."
"Do you want to have the surgery?" asked Blake.
"No, I'm scared," mumbled Katrinka hiding her nose beneath her bedcovers again although Blake could see her eyes looking at him.
"Do you want to get better?" Blake asked with simple honesty much like Arnold's.
"Yes. I do."
"Then you have to give the staff at the hospital that chance," Blake answered after a long, deep breath. "You have to give them that chance to help you get better."
"But what if I don't?"
"You don't know that unless you've tried. We can hope. You'll have to have trust in that hope."
"Have you ever been in the hospital before?" asked Katrinka dropping the covers to peek at Blake's wheelchair. She pointed to it.
"Yes, I have," said Blake. "I've spent a lot of time in it. I've had a lot of surgeries, too. I will tell you that it can be scary. And I know that there are limits to what they can do for me. I will never be out of a wheelchair. But you know what? I've found lots of ways to enjoy life and to be happy even if I have some difficulties to overcome. And facing things that frightened me have made me earn courage."
"Courage?" Mimicked Katrinka. Blake smiled and rested his hands against the wheels of his chair. "Your classmates all miss you," said Blake remembering things Eugene had told him. "Especially Gloria."
"Yeah?" Gloria smiled. "I would be fun to go back to school again," said Gloria. "To be with my friends."
"Yeah, it would." Blake agreed, smiling back. Behind the two of them, Katrinka's two parents stood. Clung together, they had eavesdropped on the conversation. They both looked at one another and smiled as Katrinka spoke happily to her new friend.
Arnold and Gerald were walking to school one day when they passed by Big Gino and his thuggish friends making a mess of confetti form poppers everywhere. A few of the thugs were dancing and Gino was passing soda all around.
"Er, what's going on?" Arnold speculated watching the crowd.
"Keep on walking!" Gerald advised, his schoolbook under his arm. Arnold followed suit. Soon they both made it through the door to P.S. 118. There was a new banner draped in the hall. It read, "Welcome Back Katrinka."
"Isn't is great?" asked Eugene as he finished hanging up the the banner right before he fell off the ladder he was standing on. (It really is hard to turn around backwards when standing on the top of a ladder.)
"I'm okay!" said Eugene plucking himself up from where he had fallen onto some other, very annoyed kid. Arnold helped him to his feet with one hand. "Katrinka is, too. She had her surgery after all. And you what? It was a success! Enough to make her well enough to come back to school, anyway."
"Well, I'm glad things turned out well," said Arnold with a small turn off his head towards Eugene and his ladder. But then his head turned slightly towards the open door of his home classroom where sure enough, Helga was waiting just beyond the door in a spot where she could spot him coming. Helga's eyes met Arnold's for a brief moment. Then freezing, she whirled her back towards Arnold so that her nerves would not be charged by his green-eyed stare. Cool and indifferent. That is how she tried to play. Inwardly, Arnold shrugged Helga's odd, rapidly shifting behavior off. Mr. Simmon's class all settled down into their customary seats, with Helga's seat right behind Arnold's as he stared blankly into his math textbook.
But across the hall, Katrinka peeked out of the classroom. Her eyes scanned the hall. Then Katrinka smiled as Blake wheeled himself up to her.
"Thank you, Blake." Katrinka spoke, clasping one of Blake's hands in her grip. Her eyes twinkled with gratitude.
"I'm happy to have helped!" the boy said with a peaceful smile. The smile of a pure intentioned heart is a beautiful thing. The end.
Thank you all for your readership and patience.