Chapter Nine!!! I have been in LOVE with this chapter since forever!! I don't care who reviews or how, I LOVE THIS CHAPTER!!! There's one line (that I love) that actually built this story. Like I needed a story to go with the line (because I love it), so I finally get to use it!! Wheeee! Okay, one with the chapter (That I love)!
Chapter Nine: Rosebuds and Betrayal
"Remember what your hours are, okay?"
"Okay."
"And tell this person what time you need to be home, okay?"
"Okay."
"And don't agree to work anyone else's shift, okay?"
"Okay."
"And, if you-"
"Olga!" Helga said, finally looking up. She knew her constant warnings weren't supposed to limit her, and she knew Olga was looking out for her best interests, but when best interests are pushed into one big pile, they just look like a big pile of worry.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know you're too old to be lectured to, but-"
"But you're looking out for me, and you just want me to be careful. And I will," Helga said, reassuringly. Olga seemed satisfied by this, and turned back to her latest issue of Oprah magazine. "Okay, my boyfriend will be here in about ten minutes, he's driving me on his big, black Harley. Afterwards, we might hit the town, check out a few nightclubs, pop back a few beers…"
"Helga!" Olga said, knowing full well that she was joking, but playing along none the less.
"I'm joking, okay, calm down. I'll be back in an hour, an hour and a half, tops. Promise," Helga said, barely containing her laughter. Not wanting to over dress for a simple interview, she decided (after Olga's endless advice) to just wear classy dress pants and a purple button down blouse. Even though she didn't think it was necessary, Olga thought it best to put together a resume, just in case. With that, a work permit, Olga's spare key, and identification, Helga was ready to leave.
"Sure you don't want a ride?" Olga asked. Since Helga got home, Olga seemed more nervous than Helga.
"Yeah, I'll find it in no time. Bye." Helga said, closing the door with her portfolio in hand. Down the stairs, Helga patted her pocket to make sure she still had the address. She wasn't familiar with the address, but figured she could just map herself around.
Despite the time, the sun was still bright over the housetops and half blinded Helga as she stepped out of the apartment building lobby. Looking around the neighborhood, she noticed the large park that she and Olga passed on their morning walk last week. It seemed like a simple enough landmark; in case she got herself lost, all she had was to look for a park. As she walked through the park, she pulled the wrinkled piece of paper from her pocket, and scanned the address. She had to read it over twice before noticing where it really was.
"Vine Street?!!" Helga said out loud. 'How could I have missed that?' She thought. She'd copied it down straight from the ad, but was certain that there must have been a Vine Avenue, or a Vine Boulevard somewhere that she accidentally mistook this ad for. Crossing the park, she contemplated what her next course of action should be. If she ran back to the place where she first saw the ad, she'd be late and probably not make it by sundown, or the store's closing, which ever came first. But if she did get there, she might end up on Vine Street, and find that it really was on the same street as Arnold's house. The street that Olga's apartment was on, Leaves End Rd., wasn't familiar for Helga, but as soon as she got out of the park, she was almost certain of where she was.
After passing 33rd Street, which she remembered had a movie theatre on it, she was finally starting to recognize certain little things that she wouldn't recall, had she not seen them. Just around the corner was Vine Street. The same Vine Street she walked down almost everyday, for some reason or another, usually to follow Arnold home. It wasn't easy finally turning the corner and trying to keep her eyes on her side of the street, in case she forgot exactly where Arnold's house was.
Up ahead, she saw what resembled a sidewalk produce stand, only filled with bright purple and red flowers. Running, towards it, to make sure it was really a flower shop and not just some street vender's cart. In her frantic jog, she passed by what looked like the same Butcher shop that was on this street five years ago. More captivating, however, was whom she saw, or thought she saw inside the shop was what kept her there for a minute or two. Inside was a little less than portly guy laying chops in a display window under the cash register. She did not catch his eye, and luckily enough, seeing as he probably could recognize her as much as she could his only exposed tooth.
Snapping back into reality, Helga walked, next door to the flower shop. Inside, was a woman watering a few tiny pink and yellow flowers. Helga debated whether they were pansies or peonies, but figured that she'd figure it out eventually…if she got the job.
As soon as she opened the door, she heard a little bell chime, and signal her arrival. The inside of the shop was quaint and simple. There were flowers on various shelves, and samples of different wreaths that the shop made. Like most of the stores on the street, there was a large display window opposite from the front desk. In it was roses, tulips, lilies, almost every flower imaginable, enhancing the look of the store. Through the window, Helga could see a large brick building that made her heart stop. Turning around abruptly before going into cardiac arrest, just in time to greet the elderly lady who came out from the back room.
"Hello, how may I help you?" she asked, in a voice almost as frail as herself. Her silver hair was pulled back into a tight little bun on the back of her head, and she wore an olive green smock with matching slippers. She smiled trustingly, which made Helga more open to talk to her.
"I saw your ad on Leaves End Street." Helga replied, smiling. She often forgot to smile when talking to people, and made sure to practice before leaving the apartment.
"Oh yes, I thought no one would answer to that. May I ask your name?"
"Oh, um Helga. But everybody calls me Annabelle." she said. It'd be too hard trying to explain why her resume has Helga Pataki all over it, but her real name is Annabelle.
"Okay Annabelle, I'm Ms. Vitello, um have you ever worked with a cash register?" she asked, leaning on the front desk.
"Um, yes, I have. ", Helga said, pulling her resume and schedule, silently thanking Olga for making her one, and handing it over. She watched as Ms. Vitello, skim over her resume, nodding occasionally and "umm hmm" every so often.
"Well, this is a very nice resume. And your schedule works perfectly with another employee of mine. Except for one thing…" she said, scrunching her long nose at the papers. Helga looked over the top of the paper at where her bony finger was directed. Apparently, Olga ordered that she not work past 9:30 at night, which is what she labeled as her availability. If she did have to stay any later than that, Olga would have her head.
"Well, about that…"
"We close at 9:00. And 8:30 on Sundays. Other than that this schedule is just fine. Just fill this out and let me sign your working permit." Helga leaned onto the front desk and wrote her name, home address, phone number, and more meaningless information on two different sheets of paper; one for her, and the other for Ms. Vitello. After all was said and done, Helga thanked her generously, and started on her way out.
"How soon can you start?" Ms. Vitello asked, before Helga could even get to the door.
Helga turned, still overjoyed about getting the job, and not really thinking about how soon she would start working. "Um, tomorrow, I guess."
"Good, my other employee is working that day. I won't be able to come in so he'll have to give you the whole introduction. Four-thirty, right?" She asked, walking behind the cash register, and tapping her fingertips on the desktop.
"Yes, thanks." she said, using her first informality of the day. She proceeded out of the store, and waited until she was far enough away to laugh out loud at herself. Ten minutes and a victory dance later, Helga noticed that it was starting to get dark out. The sun had close to setting by the time she found Ms. Vitello's Flower Shop, and she was sure she hadn't stayed there for an hour. There was still light to see by, and she ran around the corner, but not without taking a last glance at the now lit up boarding house down the street.
Skimming the darkened streets, Helga easily found the park, surrounded by streetlights, and crossed through the grass and playground area. All of the benches in the park were shrouded by tall leaf covered trees, leaving them in almost complete darkness.
At the park entrance, Helga looked up, exhausted, expecting to see Olga's apartment complex across the street. Instead, she found an abandoned Auto Body shop, with long, high intertwining vines crawling up all sides. Slightly puzzled, she turned back to the park, and tried another entrance, only to find two pairs of train tracks leading off to nowhere.
'It's only a quarter till six, Olga shouldn't be too worried…'
Helga thought, pacing the outside of the park, hoping the streetlights would ward off any muggers who thought they could rob and leave her."Do you need some help? You seem a little lost…"
Helga wasn't sure of what to make of this voice. It certainly came out of nowhere, and Helga hoped it'd return there soon. She didn't know which way it was coming from, but decided against turning around. It still wasn't entirely dark, and she continued walking in a more quickened pace.
"I'm not trying to rob you, honest…"
'Oh sure, you're not trying to rob me. Make sure to tell the officer that after they find my maimed corpse in an alley somewhere',
Helga thought, speeding up her stride little by little."Are you looking for somebo-"
"Look, I'm not lost, I'm not misplaced, and I'm certainly not naïve enough to think that people don't get robbed everyday. And besides, I've lived here for years…" The last part wasn't just lying. As some would call it, it is better known as rearranging information. In truth, Helga had lived in Hillwood for years, just not any recent ones. After a moment or so, she heard a slight clicking noise, and what looked like lightning from behind her. 'I'd better get home before it rains, Olga's probably got the Navy called by now.' she thought.
After safely locating her correct park entrance, she walked into the near empty lobby, and waved to the woman on the bottom floor, who was most likely the landlord's wife. Or the landlord. She attempted to be friendly to everyone in the complex, which seemed to be a harder task than she thought, seeing as some of her neighbors were socially impaired, as it were. Upstairs, she knocked on the door, until remembering that Olga had a spare key made for her, and pulled it out of her pocket. Before she could slip it in the keyhole, Olga opened the door, illuminating the dark hallway with the light from inside her apartment.
"Welcome home. So, how'd it go?" Olga asked, walking into the kitchen and finishing up with the last preparations for dinner.
"I got it, if that's what you mean. It was pretty easy though. Thanks for the resume, by the way." Helga said, setting her forms on the dining table and plopping down on the couch, after kicking her shoes off by the door. "Ms. Vitello was really nice. I might actually enjoy this job." Helga said.
"You're not going to call home and tell everybody? I'm sure they'd love to hear how you're only here for a week, and you've already got a job." Olga called from the kitchen.
Helga had already grabbed at the phone and started dialing James' number. She figured he'd be the first person she'd call, since she hadn't spoken to him longer than anyone else. She'd had a seven-minute conversation with Aunt Dee almost everyday, and was sure that Olga called her while she was out. Speaking of which, Olga had been rather generous with her long distance, lately. She probably knew that, with Helga living with her, she'd obviously be homesick and want to call home a lot.
"Hello, Mrs. Cooke? Hi, it's Helga…I'm fine thanks. Is James home?' Oh…no, no message, thanks, thanks bye." Helga said. "He's not home." she said over her shoulder.
"Call that uh Kristen or Carrie…"
"Kirsten?" Helga corrected. At least she tried to remember her name. Most people would refer to her friends as "that girl" or "what's her face". At least, Olga was close. Helga dialed Kirsten's number, and listened to the dial tone until somebody picked up.
"Yeah?"
"Is that how you're supposed to answer a phone?" Helga asked into the receiver.
"Is that you, Helga? What's up?"
"Not much, Leprechaun. You?" Helga smiled to herself. Even as a "young adult" she couldn't help but make up ridiculous names for people, especially about they're looks. They were never meant to be mean, just for fun, and Danny, Kirsten's brother understood this better than anybody. If he and Kirsten were to stand right next to each other, you wouldn't even think they were related, let alone brother and sister. Kirsten had shoulder length, shiny brown hair and intense, dark brown eyes, while, Danny, the only Irish representation of the family, wore a bright mop of red-orange hair on his head, with light green eyes. Danny was only a year younger than both Kirsten and Helga, but stood barely five feet tall, hence the nickname. "Is Kirsten there?"
"Nope, she's out…again.", Danny said, obviously tired of being her automated voice answering machine.
"What on earth is she doing on a Tuesday night?" Helga asked, sitting upright on the couch.
"She's been out almost every night for the past week. She's been out with some…Jerry or Jack…no James! Yeah, some weird James guy. I think he goes to Spaulding."
Helga stayed silent as Danny yammered on for a minute or two. She was never quick to make assumptions, but rather quick to mistrust. 'But this is Kirsten we're talking about.' she immediately thought, debating with herself. The same Kirsten who cried at the airport at 1:05 in the morning, for her. Kirsten wouldn't…couldn't do that. Not that. Not to her.
"Hello…?"
"Oh, sorry Danny. What was that?", Helga asked, snapping back into reality.
"Do you want me to leave her a message?"
"No, that's…yes. Yes, tell her I called, I need to speak to her right away, okay?" Helga said into the phone, devising a plan with every word she spoke.
"Um, okay…bye."
"Bye." Helga said, slyly, putting the phone back on it's cradle. If she could just hear Kirsten's voice, everything would be just fine…
"So, how'd the interview go?", Candy asked, perching herself behind Helga in their usual spot on the left side of the room.
"I got the job, I guess." Helga said, opening her English binder, and staring forward, while trying to listen to Candy.
"Cool, guess you didn't need any help after all…", Candy said.
"Guess not. But thank Arnold anyway, for me." Helga replied, trying not to shiver when she said Arnold, another habit she was hoping to break.
Candy didn't reply at first, she merely looked at Helga from the corner of her eye, and smiled that wicked little smile that made you think she knew everything about you that no one, not even you are supposed to know.
"What?" Helga asked, just trying to shake Candy's gaze that seemed to be locked on her.
"Will you quit that "I'm an innocent little transfer student" bit, and admit that you like him." Candy said, without the least bit of remorse. Not that she really needed any, part of what she said was true. Since Helga arrived here, she was putting up a sort of façade, even if it wasn't necessarily that of an innocent transfer student.
"I don't even know this guy…come on, Candy." Helga replied, almost certain she had a rock solid defense this time.
"Oh, I see how it is, today." Candy said, replacing her smile with two rows of gleaming white teeth.
"How what is?" Helga asked, beginning to question Candy's sanity level…again.
"See yesterday, it was…", Candy began, taking lock of her brown hair and twirling it around her forefinger. "I hardly even know him, and I have a boyfriend." she said, in a southern belle accent.
"First of all, Cain-dee, I don't talk like that. And second,… never mind." Helga said, turning back around to see Mr. Rowe trudge back into the room. He'd left for a minute, but in the short time, the class had gone into full out pandemonium. He never seemed to mind, he'd just sit behind his desk and read the paper, or play solitaire on his laptop.
"No, something's up, tell me…" Candy inquired, scooting her chair up a few more inches.
"Guess what?"
"I really wish you would stop doing that. I never guess, anyway."
"Well, yesterday, Candy was telling me about this girl who just moved here from…Maine or some place like that."
"Uh-huh…"
"But yesterday I saw her in the park, and she said she's lived here for years…"
"Uh-huh…"
"And then an orangutan started to break dance on my front lawn…"
"Uh-huh…"
"Are you even listening?", Arnold asked, who was now getting slightly perturbed.
"What does it matter? So some new girl lied. Big deal. That's another thing you need to quit."
"What?", Arnold asked, curious to know more of his flaws. Gerald had known him as long as he could remember, and if he said Arnold needed to do something, there was a high chance that he really did need to change it.
"This…obsession with new girls." Gerald replied, not looking up from his magazine. He was on the verge (5 months, 13 days) from being able to legally operate a motor vehicle (with someone 21 or older in the front seat) and was hoping to get his hands on a 1968 Chevy Camaro, he'd be set.
"What are you talking about?", Arnold asked, not quite getting the gist of Gerald's theory.
"Every time a new girl moves here, you have this…habit of falling in love with them, and making yourself into a complete idiot." Gerald said. He knew beforehand that the truth would be harsh and brutal, but then again, so is cough syrup.
"That doesn't always happen to me, Gerald." Arnold retorted, knowing his next word would send all assumptions that Gerald may have had, spiraling down the toilet.
"Name on occasion where you haven't turned into Jell-o after knowing a girl for thirty seconds." Gerald said, completely unaware of Arnold's memory.
"Chloe.", Arnold stated smiling, knowing he had gotten the better of Gerald.
Gerald however, now abandoning his magazine, was not laughing. In fact, he was barely smiling at all. "See, I don't get why you have to keep bringing that up, Arnold." Gerald finally said, laughing it off.
"Hmm, I don't know…", Arnold said sarcastically. "Maybe it's the fact that you declared your love for Chloe three seconds after you met her, and you still don't have the guts to talk to Phoebe in public." Arnold was never one to expose the flaws of others, but Gerald had more than enough chances to break the preverbal ice.
Gerald didn't reply, but made a slight grunt, and went back to reading. Mr. Rowe was tapping his pointer on the dry erase board, but no one seemed to be paying attention.
"Okay, so your best friend is dating a guy with the same name as your boyfriend, big deal." Candy said, expecting it to be more than that.
"And he goes to the same school, and her little brother knows him." Helga added, hoping it would aid in her defense.
"Okay, but what are you going do about it? You're all the way here, and they're in Vermont." Candy said.
"Easy, Kirsten's voice gets really high when she's really happy. All I have to do is hear her voice, imitate it, and call my boyfriend. I'll make up some fake date or whatever, if he denies it, he's clean. If not, they're both busted." Helga finished, sitting back, feeling very pleased with her plan. There were very few if any holes in it, and if worse came to worse, which it very well might have, she'd find a way to slip out. She always did.
I know this one's short, but I'm saving the surprise for the next chapter! Oh, the surprises I have for you! Anyway, I get most of my ideas from real life experiences and people. When I wrote this story, the character Kirsten was supposed to be Kristen (a friend of mine), but I misspelled it and my spell check passed it by. But the character Danny is really named after her brother Danny, so this one's for you guys!
Something else I was going to say: I won't be updating "Ruthless" or "Back Home" until the end of August. Most of August will find me on vacation, but I'll be writing the whole time and have a fresh new chapter for you by September at the latest. Hope you enjoyed this one!!! Please Review!
-Pointy Objects
