"There is only one kind of love, but there are a thousand different versions." —La Rachefoucould

Part Four: Admiration and Bravery

The bell for fourth period rang about two hours and approximately thirty-six spit wads later. Mr. Simmons' class went out onto the playground behind the school building where another class was waiting for them. Rhonda, Lila and Brainy all filed out to sit nearby to cheer on their classmates. Phoebe joined them, not really being the athletic type either, choosing instead to be the scorekeeper.

Helga pushed, shoved, and elbowed her way past everyone and stood before her remaining classmates.

"Okay people, listen up, cause I'm only going to say this once," Helga announced, taking full charge of the team. She began to point at the kids and give out the lineup, "I'm first, Stink-o, you're second, Sheena's third, Gerald-o's fourth, Football-head's fifth, Pink-boy's sixth, Curly, you're seventh, Iggy's eighth, and Sid, you're last."

"I'm last to kick! Boy howdy, that's totally unfair! Why do I have to go last? Who died and put you in charge, Helga?" Sid asked her in his usual whinny voice, totally irate.

Helga faced Sid, who promptly flinched nervously as Helga stood before him, scowling down at him in annoyance, shaking her left fist under his nose. "You, if you don't shut up and quit complaining, monkey-boy!"

She smiled to herself as Sid closed his mouth and nodded quickly, holding his hands out defensively. "Y-yeah sure, Helga, whatever you say." With that he backed off away from the taller girl.

Arnold frowned slightly as he watched Helga bully everybody around into doing things her way. Deep down though, despite that, he did approve of the way she took charge and got everyone organized, just like she did when they played baseball at Gerald Field. He just disapproved of the way she treated everyone, believing that there was always a better way than pushing them around.

Mr. Simmons' fourth grade class would be playing kickball against Mr. Frank's sixth grade class, which was made up of a number of tough-looking older kids, most of whom looked really slow, but powerful. The kid in charge was a large brute nicknamed Belch, because of his tendency to burp very loudly and on command. He glared menacingly at the fourth graders.

"Man, Arnold," Gerald said, whispering to him. "I can't believe they let 'Belch the Bruiser' back in school. I thought for sure they'd expelled him after what he did."

Arnold nodded, "I know." Belch had been sent to Juvenile Hall for six months for purposely breaking a third grader's arms in a fight. He was the sort-of bully who would have made Wolfgang and Tourvalt look like saints. He was big enough to make Big Patty and Harold look as thin as Sid.

Arnold watched, with a great deal of apprehension, as Helga marched over to Belch to call for the coin toss to decide who would kick first. She stood before the large bully, who was a good head taller than her, scowling up at him. If she was at all intimidated by the bully in front of her, she did not show it outwardly, but Arnold knew that deep down, Helga had to be nervous. He admired the fact that she could hide her anxiety so well.

Sometimes there seems to be a lot more to Helga than most people really take the time to notice, Arnold thought to himself, smiling slightly. There are times when she can be really cool . . . well, when she isn't bossing people around that is. He amended his thoughts at the last moment.

"Hey Arnold! Hello in there! Anyone home in there, man?" Gerald asked, waving a hand in front of Arnold's face.

"Huh? Oh sorry, Gerald." Arnold said, shaking his head and apologizing.

Gerald shook his head, "Man, Arnold, don't space out on us now, were going to need you to beat these guys." He smiled and turned back to the coin toss. Arnold did also, smiling a bit in anticipation of a good game of kickball. The weather was perfect for it, despite the few dark clouds in the distance over the buildings.

Mr. Simmons, who was to play referee for the game, tossed a quarter into the air. Arnold heard Belch's gruff voice call "heads." When the quarter hit the ground, both Belch and Helga looked down and Helga smirked in triumph. Belch looked up crossly and frowned.

"Tails it is!" Mr. Simmons called out. "Helga's team goes first."

With that the Kickball Day game was officially under way. Both teams were poised to play and have fun enjoying the next hour free of class work. It was a bright, sunny day with only a few dark clouds on the horizon, and they were outdoors enjoying a nice friendly game of kickball.

What they did not know then was that twenty minutes into that "nice friendly game" all hell would break loose.

To Be Continued . . . .

"Love is the flower you've got to let grow." -John Lennon