Chapter Two: Come On "I found your picture in my wallet And people asking how I'm doing -The Click Five "I'm Getting Over You"
Still got your sweater in my closet
I'll bring 'em by, maybe tonight
But every question still has you in it.
I say I'm fine,
And I never think about you,
But you're always on my mind."
Helga sat quietly on the park bench, and caught her breath. She'd been running for the past half of an hour, and the tiny, white pedometer on her hip told her she only needed another quarter of a mile to reach her three-mile goal. She wasn't exhausted, as she told herself. It was too early in the morning to be exhausted, and she knew that she had a lot more things to do before the day was over. She purposefully packed her day tightly to avoid thinking about or talking to Arnold. She knew that the idea as a whole made her look petty, but she also knew that when she was busy, people (Arnold, in particular) stayed away from her. Helga on a mission was something he didn't generally like to mess with. Gazing downwards, Helga leaned over her outstretched legs to tie her shoe. Upon returning to her upright sitting position, she noticed someone further down the path coming towards her. After a few moments and her own observations, she pieced the person together and came up with one, fairly startling conclusion:
Arnold.
"Schiesse." She said, before lifting herself off of the bench and launching forward in a near sprint to the east entrance of the park, which opened up one block away from her house. She could hear his footsteps approaching and wished that she couldn't. She usually ran with some sort of music in her ears; it seemed to ward off shady people who were also running around the park in the early morning and kept her from looking at her pedometer every thirty seconds. Unfortunately, she'd left her MP3 player somewhere in the band room at school and forgot to retrieve it prior to yesterday's practice. If she had her MP3 player with her she could have at least pretended not to hear Arnold call her name from several feet behind her. He was getting closer, and Helga tried in vain to run faster, but her legs were tired and worn out and she was quickly loosing her breath again. She didn't want to push herself too far, remembering the day she had ahead and resumed her normal pace, Arnold eventually catching up. Looking forward, Helga focused her attention on the now visible entrance that she was waiting for and kept her face firm and her resolve unyielding.
She had already determined in her mind that she was not going to initiate any sort of conversation with Arnold, at least for that day. Before he could say anything or she could continue to ignore him, the miniature gadget on her hip let off a single beep; barely audible to anyone else, but certainly music to Helga's ears. Stopping to unclip the pedometer from her waistband, she smiled as she read that she reached her three-mile mark. Remembering her "audience" (seeing as Arnold had stopped along with her), she straightened up her face and resumed running. She avoided eye contact with Arnold, knowing it would come out as nothing more than an angry scowl, and passed his standing form. She heard a very slight sigh from Arnold and smiled before he caught up to her again. She was not completely prepared when his voice broke the silence between them.
"Is something wrong?" he asked her, his tone denoting that he may have actually noticed that she wasn't her usual self. Helga nearly smiled at his late realization, but responded in a calm , aloof manner.
"Excuse you?" she replied, doing so without too much of an attitude, but knowing that despite how she said it, it would strike some kind of nerve in Arnold. From the corner of her eye, she could tell that he wasn't quite offended by her comment, so much as he was taken aback by the remote way in which she said it. He replied with a simple "Nothing" and Helga thought that'd be the end of their conversation. No such luck.
"You left the party early last night." he observed, and even if she were not upset with him, Helga had no way to answer him. It wasn't a question, so it didn't require an answer; it was a statement, and observation, and she had nothing at all to say.
"Mhm." she mumbled, nearly laughing at herself now. She didn't want to make him think she hated him completely, although she was pretty angry with him. Though she resolved not to initiate any conversation, she still wanted to know a little more about this "Sophie" person, and hoped that the conversation would eventually head in that direction. "So how was the party after I left?" she asked, trying to sound as uninterested as possible.
"The usual", he replied quickly. "Nothing special, really. I'm not sure why I went at all." he finished.
Helga rolled her eyes. 'Are you sure it wasn't to show off your new girlfriend?' she thought, frustrated.
"Sophie had a good time, though." he said, casually.
Helga nearly scowled at he mention of her name, but kept her composure. "What was up with your little girlfriend, anyway? Could she have been any more obvious?" Helga laughed at the addition of "little girlfriend". Helga knew that Sophie wasn't Arnold's girlfriend, but gave him the opportunity to confirm what she already knew.
"Sophie is not my girlfriend." Arnold said, and Helga let out and audible "Hmm" before he could continue. "She wanted to meet you, I guess. She's a dancer." he said, as if that was the solution to their "dilemma".
Helga was tempted to ask why Sophie would want to meet her, but she was under the impression that Arnold would simply surmise it back to the fact that hey were both dancers and their common interest was the sole reason in Sophie's wanting to meet her. Whether or not it was the truth, Helga felt there may have been more there than that, but didn't feel like tackling that issue right then.
"Uh huh, right. Since when do you pimp for Dance Company, anyway?" Helga said, letting her guard down slowly and allowing herself to laugh momentarily.
"I was not pimping. I don't know why she thought you had some kind of control over who gets into Dance Company-"
"I do." Helga said, simply. Arnold asked her what she meant before she was able to continue. "I said I do. I do have some control over who gets in Dance Company. I'm one of the senior officers."
"Oh." he said, still slightly confused, she could tell, but understanding the situation overall. "So why say no to Sophie? She tells me she's got experience and-"
Helga was frustrated now. Why was he so bent on getting this flighty, little slip of a girl into Company? What was he going to get if she got in? Cutting him off she began, "To be honest, I don't think she's good enough. There are days when I don't even think I'm good enough." By this time, she had slowed down and came to a complete stop in from of the East entrance to the park. "But we're the best. And we work hard, without shortcuts. End of story." she said, looking from Arnold to the opening in the wall of the park. She'd completely forgotten about 'ignoring' Arnold, and had inadvertently shown too much of herself to him. Shaking off her demeanor, she bid him goodbye and left the park, and him, without looking back. She sprinted around the corner and all the way home, and collapsed on her porch, hoping she hadn't said to much, but still praying that she had said enough.
The day was not looking good so far. The morning was painfully awkward. The mid-morning was slow and boring. The early afternoon was proving to be nothing more than an extension of the beginning of the day; effectively combining tedious work with ridiculous hours. For her first day as English Aide, Helga was employed with the task of grading papers under the direction of one of the school's strictest English teacher Ms. Keatts. She was not so much a "strict" teacher as she was one who didn't take laziness very well. She made no excuses for students, unless truly necessary, and actually respected the students who took their education, and most importantly, the English language, seriously. Helga didn't have a problem working under her, but her day had not gone as she planned and grading 126 tests meticulously was not doing anything for her mood.
She sat quietly, hutched over a desk in an empty classroom, circling and correcting a stack of papers with a red marker. She'd just finished a nearly perfect test when a knock reverberated from the door of the classroom. Without breaking her concentration, Helga remained focused on the newest test and spoke. "Ms. Keatts is out, I can take a message for her."
"I actually need to speak with a Helga Pataki. I think it's Keatts' aide."
Helga looked up, her focus clearly broken. "I'm not an 'it', I'm a 'she', and what do you need?" she asked, getting to the point. The person at the door was so stunned by her bluntness, that she almost felt bad for releasing it on him without any warning. Looking up, she tried not to pick apart the person moving towards her, seeing as she had probably just frightened him with her rudeness.
"Sorry," he began, apologizing with such humility, that Helga felt embarrassed. "You left this in a practice room. Green gave me your name." he said, referring to the band and orchestra teacher by his last name only. He reached in the pocket of his pants and pulled out Helga's MP3 player, and held it out to her.
"Oh, thanks." Helga said, taking the small device from him and trying to forget the feeling of his palms against the tips of her fingers. She smiled at him to let him know that she meant peace, and he smiled in reply. "You didn't happen to…" Helga started, deciding to give up and drop the question before finishing.
"Listen to it? I may have sampled a few songs, but not many. You've got a nice collection there. Of music, I mean." he commented, nervously. Helga smiled again, noticing his sharp jaw and high cheekbones. Rolling her eyes at herself, she attempted to form an intelligent response.
"Thanks. So, are you an Aide for Band?" she asked, grasping for conversation. She couldn't recognize him from anywhere in particular, but she'd been grading papers for well over an hour and the company was a welcomed distraction.
"No, I'm an English aide, like you. I have a free period so I spend it in the band room most of the time." he said, pulling a chair from under a nearby desk and planting it across the desk from Helga, and taking a seat, all the while keeping eye contact with Helga. Something about his brown eyes made her want to look away, but just knowing that he wasn't breaking his gaze made her want to maintain hers as well.
Before Helga could respond, the bell signaling the end of the second period. Gathering her things, Helga made an effort to continue the conversation despite the interruption. "So, when do you aide?" she asked, hoping that her question didn't come off as prodding.
"Right about…now. I'm here to relieve you, Helga Pataki," he said, standing and smiling, holding out his hand.
Taking it, Helga smiled back. "Well, thank you very much…" she trailed off, hoping to get some kind of name from him.
"Derek. Derek Bailey. Nice to meet you."
"Likewi-" Helga began, before noticing the newest addition to the classroom. Mrs. Keatts struggled over to her desk just a few feet from theirs and unloaded her arms on to the metal desk. With an exaggerated sigh, she turned towards Helga and Derek, smiling widely.
"I see that my two aides have met!" she noted, excited. She looked down swiftly at their hands and then back and forth between the two of them. "I'm sorry, dears, am I interrupting something?" she asked, fully knowing the implications of her words.
Helga was the first to catch on the to the teacher's expression and shot Derek an apologetic look, before snatching her hand away. She met his eyes after they separated, hoping he wouldn't be upset. Her reply came in the form of a smile and a casual hand combing through the thick, coffee-colored hair atop Derek's head.
"Helga was just letting me know what she had left to do." Derek said, confidently, addressing Ms. Keatts. Derek turned to her, attempting to put up an effective "act" for their supervisor. "You were grading tests, right?" he asked her, obviously knowing the answer beforehand.
"Yeah," Helga started, nodding her head at him then at Ms. Keatts. Snatching a piece of paper from the desk she'd just abandoned, she handed it to Derek. "Here's the answer sheet." she said.
After a plethora of thanks to both of her aides, Ms. Keatts shooed Helga off, urging her to get to her class before the next bell rang. Helga left the classroom, bidding Derek goodbye quickly, trying to ignore the brief elation she felt just moments ago. She was quickly removed from any delusions by the petite, yet commanding individual in front of her.
"What's up with you?" she asked, leaning forward and furrowing her brow at Helga.
"Nothing, what do you want?" Helga asked, backing up, and motioning around Lila. Not one to be easily ignored, Lila turned and followed her down the hallway. Helga had no real problems with Lila. Their personalities differed, of course, but they had few problems with one another. And Helga had no reason to distrust Lila. She'd never personally attacked or manipulated her, in particular. Lila was one of those girls, that you can't help but watch from afar; she kept her hair longer than most, but still shorter than Helga's; centered around her back. She was short,; a mere 5'1", but knew how to use that to her advantage. People who did not know her were amazed at her ability to capture the attention of almost anyone instantaneously. Everything she wore, did, said, seemed preplanned; things rarely caught her off guard and when they did, she was able to counter it well. This was one of the reasons Helga tolerated her (that and the fact that they were both in Dance Company, thus spending several hours together weekly); she could (almost) relate to her.
"Well, I just wanted you to know that rehearsal today is cancelled. Rosso's out and everyone's playing hookey today, so don't worry about it."
Helga smiled wider and sighed. She'd purposely filled her day with as many activities as she could, but had to admit, that she'd have been drained by the end of the day if she actually had to perform all of them.
"Thanks Lye." Helga said, once again moving away from the petite girl.
"So, what's his name?" Lila asked, catching up with Helga quickly despite her short legs and large pink duffel bag. All the girls in Dance Company had chipped in last year for matching pink duffel bags.
"Whose name?" Helga asked, slightly confused.
"The name of the guy who put that cheesy smile on your face." Lila said, smiling herself. "And please don't say Arnold. I was at Jessica's party last night; I totally saw the whole thing." she said, waving one hand in the air. Helga doubted that Lila actually saw the "whole thing"; if anything she probably saw Helga walk away and watched Arnold return to the open and willing arms of 'Sophie'.
"No, it's not Arnold." Helga stated, saying his name out loud for the first time that day. "It's nobody. I'm just happy that I have one less thing to worry about today. Maybe I'll be able to focus better for Volleyball tryouts." she said, hopefully.
"If you say so, Helga." Lila said sweetly before turning down a corridor, and leaving Helga alone in the hallway. Her day was finally going as she wanted it to.
Helga was beaming.
Helga was boiling. She couldn't be more upset if she tried. She was currently halfway through tryouts, and she was seriously doubting that she'd make the team this year. She'd been called on every seemingly minor mistake that she made, and was close to giving up most of the time. She was aware that her offences mounted up to several yellow cards, and that if they were in a real game, she'd have been disqualified long ago, but seeing as they were just tryouts, Coach Johnston decided against it. In addition to not counting fouls against those trying out, Helga noticed, she wasn't planning on calling any fouls on players that were already on the team. It was blatant favoritism to Helga and she settled with fuming silently in her head and possibly giving the other players a piece of her mind after the mock game. Rolling her neck, she clutched the ball and attempted to suppress her anger.
"Six serving thirteen!" she called, launching the ball a few feet in the air and open-hand smacking it across the gymnasium. The ball grazed the net and was immediately caught by the opposing team.
"Ms. J, that's a foul." the girl said arrogantly, flipping her auburn ponytail and meeting Helga's eye with a smirk.
"What foul?!" Helga asked, approaching the net as Ms. Johnston walked towards the girls. If she knew that she'd do so badly, she reasoned, she would have opted for going to dance practice instead of skipping.
"At the time of the serve, the ball cannot come in contact with the net. Not to mention you definitely weren't in your correct position as server. Read up, Pataki." the same girl said. She was obviously on Varsity Volleyball, and wasn't set on letting anybody new join the ranks.
"Sure, if you're playing with old rules! That rule was changed seven years ago. And that rule about serving position is ancient." Helga said, addressing the girl in response. Looking to Ms. Johnston for some kind of reassurance, she was met with a stone cold expression from under her white baseball cap.
"Serve it again, Number 6." she said bluntly, addressing Helga by the number she was given before tryouts began, and retreating back to her seat on the bleachers. There were a few spectators watching tryouts, some because they had nothing better to do, some were guys who only there because of the form-fitting shorts and shirt that each girl was required to wear during tryouts. Still others came to actually cheer on their friends, siblings or girlfriends, only to be met with Coach Johnston's impeccable need for silence during tryouts. The crowd went unnoticed as Helga waged war within herself.
Helga would have stomped out then and there; her pride was at stake, and she found herself between a rock and a hard place. She could stay at the tryouts, have her pride crushed completely and probably not make the team, or leave, abandon pride altogether and definitely not make the team. Catching the ball thrown somewhat mercilessly, she gripped it tightly, and resumed her place behind the other girls. The lights flickered a split second before Helga went to serve it and some girls already began to murmur among themselves.
"Alright, here's the deal, ladies. Next score wins. The list will be posted in half an hour, so there's still a chance to get a spot." she said, hushing the small crowd.
"Zero serving zero…" Helga shouted, opting for a top spin serve and snapping her wrist. The ball traveled flawlessly over the net and was bumped between the other players before coming back. The volley lasted for at least three minutes, and each girl was pushing herself to keep the fluid motion of the ball going as long as possible. The last bump from the opposing side was headed towards the center of the court, right where none of the girls that Helga was teamed up with would be able to get to in time. Tracking the position and path of the ball, Helga dove to the weathered linoleum flooring, feeling a burn across her forearm and closing her eyes as she slid across the floor. Clasping her hands together, she bent her arms at her elbows and hoped that she at least made contact with the ball; setting it up for someone else to bump over the net. Before she could push herself up of the floor, something fell within inches of her outstretched arms, confirming her fears.
The ball.
The opposition gathered and cheered on their win. Helga tried to reason with herself that they would have lost anyway, but that thought did little to comfort her. Taking a few moments to gain her footing and stand up straight, Helga retreated to the door, where she'd left her bags and change of clothes. She waited until all of the girls from the winning team left the area, congratulating them on their way out, before making her way to Ms. Johnston, requesting a moment of her time.
"Ms. Johnston?" Helga said, shuffling her feet and looking away.
"Yes, Ms. Pataki?" she said, turning towards her. Ms. Johnston was much younger than she usually looked. The light brown hair was almost always pulled back from her face and beneath a baseball cap, embroidered with the school's name. Helga never noticed until then that most of her clothes had the school's name or seal on it; from her navy blue polo to her long khaki shorts that came up just above her knees.
"I just wanted to apologize for my outburst. You're the coach, and I shouldn't have overstepped your decision."
"Ya know, Pataki," she started, turning back around and flipping through the papers attached to her clipboard. "You have enormous potential. Granted, your attitude could use some work, but you definitely have talent. Don't forget to check out that list." she said, leaving Helga alone in the gymnasium. Turning around to sulk and head home, she was startled to find that she was not alone in the gym. Covering half of her face with her right hand and balancing the long, pink duffel bag with the other, she addressed him, while ambling towards the door.
"Do you always attend the tryouts of people you barely know?" she asked, immediately realizing the stupidity f her words. For all she knew, Derek could have had a girlfriend on the team or trying out. There was the distinct possibility that he was not, under any circumstances, there to see her.
"Sometimes." he joked, standing up. Helga hadn't notice before, but Derek was significantly taller than her. In her mind, she'd have listed it as a trait she usually found attractive, except she was trying to keep her mind from wandering into such territory. "I actually wanted to ask you about this." he said, looking down nervously and pulling a pair of stapled papers from behind his back. Helga noticed it right away as one of the tests she was grading earlier in the day. Stepping forward, she eyed the test and asked what was wrong.
"It's nothing huge. I was just wondering what you meant by this." he said, leaning in and pointing to a small, circled question mark a the end of the test.
"Oh." Helga said, leaning away and smiling. "You ended your sentence with a preposition. I wasn't sure how strict Keatts is with all of that, so I didn't mark it against you."
Derek smiled as Helga surveyed the paper, making sure that she really did mark his answers accordingly. Meeting his eyes again, she contemplated the silence between them and surmised that it sprang from their close proximity. Stepping backwards, Helga broke her gaze, and shifted her bag on her shoulder.
"Well, thanks. I'll be sure never to end my sentences with any more prepositions."
Helga at once realized her appearance and wished for an easy exit. Her hair, by now was stringy and falling out of it's sagging ponytail. Her forehead was covered in a thin film of sweat and the minimal makeup that she did wear has, more than likely, running down her face. "Well…it was nice meeting you…again." she said, anxiously wringing her hands from the cold of the hallway. She hoped it wasn't too chilly outside; the walk home would only be that much harder if she had any inclement weather to deal with. Her concerns were met with a rumble of thunder and the flash of lightning from the other side of a nearby window. 'Fantastic', Helga thought, her shoulders slumping in disappointment and dread.
Derek noticed her change in stance; from her carefree joking manner, to nervousness to trepidation at the weather. He smiled at her ability to change moods so quickly, and do so without fully noticing it. He was tempted to inquire more of her, but at the risk of not seeming overly eager, he restrained himself as far as he knew how. "I know this may sound…creepy, but you wouldn't need a ride him, would you?" he asked, gripping the back of his neck.
Helga was suddenly filled with indecisiveness. She had valid reason to fear someone she did not know intimately, but not true foundation for fearing someone she almost knew, who hadn't done anything inconspicuous so far. Baring her most sincere smile, she shook her head. "It's okay, but I'm sure the last bus hasn't left yet. Thanks, though. " She said, walking backwards to the nearest door. It led to the very front of the school, where a bus was scheduled to come within the next ten minutes or so. "Thanks for the offer." she said, waiting for his own goodbye before disappearing behind the door.
Outside, Helga snatched a pair of navy blue sweat pants and slid them on over her black shorts. It was raining harder than she anticipated, and her frustrations at not having her car(even if just for another day) grew. Spotting the bus coming just up the street, Helga grabbed her bag, and began running towards the curb. She noticed, however, from the speed of the bus, that the driver had no intentions of stopping for her.
Turning quickly and running through the teeming rain, Helga sprinted around the school building and across the softball field. The red-brown mud that covered the field soon adorned her sweat pants from the knee down as she continued to run. Once across the field, she threw her bags over a fence, and leaped over into a grassy, muddy bank. When she stood, she found herself next to a busy road; cars rushing by at alarming speeds, but no sign of the bus she was looking for. To her immediate right, came the bus, and from what she could see, it was completely empty. Once the bus came to a stop, she ran up to the glass doors and began open-hand smacking the door. The octogenarian bus driver was not aware of her incessant pounding on his doors and if indeed he was aware he was doing a fine job pretending as though he was not.
Before Helga could respond, the stoplight turned green and the bus was off. Helga's only shield from the pounding rain (that had only gotten worse since she'd stepped outside) was a row of trees that lined the street. By that time, there was hardly an inch of her that was left dry, or for that matter, clean. She was about to turn back towards the school, either to call her parents for a ride, or begin her trek home. Despite the rush of cars going by, sounding their horns and screeching tires, one that was exceptionally close to Helga sounded it's horn and demanded her attention.
Turning slowly, Helga was greeted by a strikingly familiar dark car, pulled over to the shoulder of the road. The window rolled down slowly, and a smile grazed Helga face, not only at the person in the driver's seat, but at the thought of what she probably looked like, soaked and dirty on the side of the road.
"Still don't need a ride?" Derek asked, leaning towards the passenger side window and smiling genuinely at Helga. Helga smiled and tolled her eyes, picking up her bag and advanced towards the car.
Not sure if anyone can tell the changes I made (how she meets Derek, yadda, yadda, yadda…). Yeah, I like this version better. I have a really strange way of writing; for instance, this chapter was actually pieced together from four different Word Documents. If I have separate scene or idea, or even a different way of writing the chapter altogether, I just open a new document and start over. If I don't use a part right away, I save it over for a later chapter. It actually helps. So does reading every bit of my chapter (because it may take days to write a single chapter) before picking up where I left off so as to avoid any mistakes.
Am I the only one who loves the new Derek? I hope I'm not, because I do. He's not quite as cocky as the old Derek, and he's a bit more shy. And he has a new last name (same initials, though…)!! Not to mention, I try to (especially with original characters) try to find a picture online that is similar to how I picture them in my head. Anyway, I found the perfect Derek photo…oh geez, he's gorgeous. I'm a little proud of myself.
What else? The next chapter will be up in no time flat. Because this chapter was supposed to be what I wrote originally, but I thought it was moving too fast, and after my test today at college, I just sat and wrote, so it's going to be up not too long after. It'll be a bit more Arnold-centric; getting to know what's going on in his little mind. Not to mention one or two friends tell him what's what. Just a warning: it'll be a bit short. I don't mind, because I hate dragging things out for the sake of having a "long" chapter, but I know it irks some people. Whatever.
Again, thanks for reading.
-PointyObjects
