I. Know. This. Has. Taken. Literal. Years. But I want to finish, it was just... a rough time getting up to graduation. So rough... But, I want to take more time to write! And I do have an ending for this, and I'm working on getting us there again!
Arnold's Playlist for the chapter:
watch?v=xy-jJ1qdteU
"You sound like a broken record. I'm gonna ignore her. I'm gonna be her friend. Wait, let me ignore her again so she won't write about me on her blog. That makes sense. Oh wait, no it doesn't because you have a convoluted crush on her," Gerald sighed, his voice switching from a high pitched mocking to an exasperated low. I ignored him, instead feigning hyper focus on the clipboard I was holding. It was mostly full of looped lines that were not at all discernable, though it had helped me to block out Gerald's voice. "You know what, fine, whatever."
"Oh come on, Gerald!" I finally sighed as I noticed him begin to collect his things.
He shot me a dark look as he shrugged into his backpack, adjusting it on his shoulders while narrowing his eyes at me. I found myself lifting the clipboard up to cover the lower half of my face, slowly sinking down farther into the depths of the seat.
"Look man, you're even wishy washier than Charlie Brown. I was trying to do you a favor here, and you're just fighting every turn. I've really tried to do stuff to benefit you here!"
"Oh, like what?" I snapped back, my defenses rising.
"Well for starters, isn't it nice to not be called Football head anymore?" he offered gesturing at the offending body part.
"I guess so," I admitted reluctantly. Hearing Arnold come out of her mouth was a lot less cringe worthy, and admittedly rather nice.
"I've gotten her to give you a couple of gifts and she's been somewhat nicer to you recently – in public! Not to mention it makes your rehearsals flow a lot smoother," he continued, giving me knowing nod as he spoke. "I haven't done anything wrong – I mean, I read through some of your old messages to her," which caused my cheeks to react, "and you're a squishy little muffin at heart. So I just suggest, in the manner of your squishy love muffin self, that she does this nice things for her own squishy love muffin – a/k/a you. She's none the wiser. And as I have said before, we're technically doing what she's asking her online friend to do – help her win your heart." He made a heart shape with his hands, displaying it dramatically against his forehead as he batted his eyelashes.
I felt myself sliding down even more into my computer chair, my legs splayed out across my floor. "I just can't stop feeling guilty."
"Are you sure this about guilt, or about your own weird sense of Arnold Shortman pride?" he countered, crossing his arms as he looked across the room at me, eyebrows raised. "You're not even doing anything, it's all me." He grinned, pulling his phone from the pocket and glancing at the screen. "And if you keep wooing her by 'spinning me in close, the music not even registering as I found myself against his chest-"
Being draped in a chair like a ragdoll in no way inhibited my ability to punt his phone like a football.
Monday didn't leave me feeling any better about the situation. I'd done pretty well to get myself focused with tasks all night so as not to be online, thought Gerald sent me screenshots to the point where I might as well have read her entire blog anyway. Not having any classes with Helga this semester was both a relief as well as a curse, as that meant I got to avoid her most of the day – but that really only managed to heighten my anxiety as rehearsal neared. I stood outside the door to the auditorium, the butterflies in my stomach making an anxiety tornado.
"Is the door locked?"
"Ah, no, I was just preoccupied," I murmured as Eugene made his way down the hall. I quickly pushed it open, allowing him to go in ahead of me. The stage was already littered with various cast members, Helga sitting with on the lip of the stage with her legs dangling. I stumbled in my tracks, my backpack strap inching down my arm as I watched her throw her head back to laugh, her hair flipping back in rippling free waves. It glittered in the rehearsal lights, and I immediately wondered if it was down because of what I said. Because I told her I liked it. I snapped my attention away from her to find Eugene staring at me with a concerned look on his face, and I quickly fumbled to readjust the strap and smooth my hair back from my face as if to establish I was composed for whatever god forsaken reason. He eyed me curiously, and a nervous chuckled escaped as he followed the trail of my previous gaze with his eyes. I quickly made me way down the center aisle, knees to chest and nonchalant. I weaved my way through a few freshman and plopped myself down in my seat, eyes plastered anywhere but her. I laser focused on my backpack, unzipping it to grab my clipboard. I noticed a shadow fall over my things, and I tried not to let my body tense up as I left my gaze drift to the warn out combat boots. She crouched down a moment later, and I continued to haphazardly sort through its contents.
"Hey Jazzy pants, I don't think you're going to find Atlantis no matter how hard you dig in there."
I took a deep breath before, tilting my head up just enough to meet her gaze. I gave her a half smile, and she seemed taken aback by the gesture. "No retort?"
Before I could reign in it, some little part of me wanted to render her as speechless as I had upon seeing her when I had come in. It wriggled in my throat a moment before I managed to mutter with a steady voice, "Are you ready to dance?"
She blinked, eyes wide as her cheeks blossoming a slight pink as her hands went to her hair, clamping onto in two pigtail-like chunks. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and I immediately felt a sense of panic that she might think I was making fun of her, so I quickly slid at the clipboard and spun it to face her, tapping my finger on the calendar. "It's choreography day," I gave a slightly breathy laugh.
"Right." She gave a curt nod, and pushed herself up. I watched as she pushed herself back up onto the stage. I looked over to see Eugene eyeing me curiously once more, and I quickly focused my attention back on the clipboard.
The next two hours were a series of group numbers, and I was impressed at everyone's ability to pick things up. I was almost as surmised as Rhonda's accent.
"Good job everyone!" Helga called out, "I'll see you all Wednesday."
Everyone nodded and the chatter rose instantly as everyone began to eagerly catch each other up on the events of their weekends. I began to pack things in my bag, surprised that, once again, Eugene was in my line of sight as I stood up.
"Arnold!"
"Eugene?" I raised an eyebrow curiously, sliding my strap up my arm. Eugene had grown slightly, but not enough where I still didn't have to look down to meet his gaze.
"Are you free?"
"Right now?"
"Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to go get a milkshake or something?" his voice faltered toward the end, as if the very premise of asking me felt awkward.
"Sure-?" I tried to keep the questioning tone out of my voice, but my response caused his face to light up immensely.
"Great!"
I plastered on a grin as we both stood, unsure of who was supposed to lead this escape. Eugene eventually took the first step, and I gratefully fell in behind him by a step or two. The initial walk through the halls was full or awkward tension between us – not knowing what to say on my part, and Eugene looking like he had too much to say and not sure of how to say any of it.
We made our way over to the bust stop, boarded quickly, and proceeded to make small talk about the weather and how we felt rehearsals were going. I followed Eugene off and into Slausen's. We sat down with our purchases, and I took a deep breath before asking as tactfully as possible, "Is there something you need from me Eugene?"
It looked as if a weight lifted from his shoulders, and he sat back in his seat. "Yes, actually. But I wasn't sure how to broach it, and I didn't think it something I could just outright as around everyone."
"No, that's fine," I assured him, waving my hand. "I'm always ready to help."
"Are you and Helga dating?"
I spluttered into my shake, scrabbling to grab a napkin and wipe up the splatter on the table as well as my chin. "What?" I wheezed.
"Dating. You and Helga?"
"HOW?"
I watched as he tilted his head to the side, as if he was sizing up whether I was lying to him. I rubbed my mouth on the back of my hand, trying to keep my gaze steady. I could feel my heart start to speed up. Did he read the blog? Did he know!?
"How did I know?"
"No, how did you even come to that conclusion," I clarified a bit forcefully.
"Oh," he mouthed, drumming his fingers on the sides of his glass. "I'm no dating wizard, but I've noticed a difference in interactions, so to speak, over the last couple of weeks. I'm a really good observer."
"And?"
"And I, for one, have never seen Helga wear her hair down anywhere where there are people she knows. It disrupts her persona. We've discussed it." I raised my eyebrows, but he continued. "And two, you looked like you were having a spiritual experience today when you saw her. I just…wanted to ask. You guys seem to be on a different repertoire, and I'm just trying to figure it out," he finished with a blunt shrug. "Helga…she's one of my closest friends, I guess. She's stood up for me a lot. I want to her to be happy, I guess." He shifted his gaze to my face. "I don't want to see her get hurt."
I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I pondered a reply. "Look, we aren't dating, so you don't need to worry about that. We're just friends." He narrowed his eyes as if he didn't believe me. "Or, better friends than we used to be, I guess."
"Do you like her?"
"What does that matter?"
"I told you Helga is one of my closest friends. Freshman year, we hung out a lot. Not…many people liked me before. Even less liked me when I came out." He shifted his gaze. "I know a lot of things about Helga. I know a lot of things that Helga likes. I'm just…offering the help."
"I don't…" I began, confusion seeping into my face.
"Look, Arnold." He shifted his position, his elbows on the table and hands clasped together. "It's Senior year. I'm just saying. Anything you need to get off your chest, this is the year for it. Final curtain!" his voice was dramatic as he stood up, jutting his jaw forward.
"You're….saying you want to get Helga and I together, is that what you're saying?" I asked incredulously.
"That is exactly what I'm saying."
