Beforehand--102 reviews--I surpassed my first fic! Woooooweeeeeee (insert throwing of confetti)
Also--a thousand apologies to all of you--I hate it when fics I love don't get updated, and I've left you guys hanging for a considerable week. Forgive?
I felt kinda weird writing about Halloween when we just rang in the new year, but here goes.
Enjoy, loves.
Dis-claym-urr: What's mine is mine; what's not is Craig's.
---
Chapter 13: You've Got Time to be Right
"Where are you going?"
Isabella turned away from her mirror to meet her twin, leaning in the doorway to her bedroom. She rolled her eyes and looked at herself again, raising her hands up to her hair.
"A Halloween party, obviously."
"Oh. I was wondering why you were sporting that...ravishing gown. Who the hell are you supposed to be, anyway?"
Isabella curled her lips into a sneer. "Belle. You know, from Beauty and the Beast?"
"Oh…yes, I see it now," Robbie slurred, striding into his sister's room. He looked her up and down perversely, admiring her golden attire. "She was the most beautiful of the Disney princesses."
"I'm surprised you remember what any of them looked like," Isabella said somberly, pinning a gold barrette in her hair.
"Give me some credit, Izzy. I didn't do that many drugs in middle school."
Isabella clutched her bodice and examined herself from different angles in her mirror and said, "Whatever. Why are you even in my room, anyway? Don't you have somewhere to go?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," Robbie told her, standing close enough to her to make her share the reflection.
"Well--I have to get going soon," she said hurriedly, backing away. "I don't wanna be late for the party."
"Whose party is it?"
"Like I'm gonna tell you."
Robbie smirked. "Okay, whatever. Just be careful, Izzy…those boys are dogs."
"And who would know better than you?" Izzy asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
Robbie made a mock-wounded face and breathed, "Ouch."
Isabella lifted her eyebrows at him in a knowing manner and ceased fiddling with her hair.
"Well…have fun, sis. I'm off to…wreak havoc, or something."
"Don't wreak too much of it," Isabella warned mockingly, watching him exit her bedroom. She stood still in front of her mirror until she heard the front door slam, then let out a long sigh.
---
Lila slipped into her silver flats and smoothed out her sparkling blue dress. Flipping her fiery red hair about her shoulders, she supposed that she hadn't felt this beautiful or fresh in months. Looking over herself in the mirror, she grinned wickedly at herself. She made a very pretty Ariel. She did twirls around her bedroom floor until her phone went off.
"Hello?" she said, picking it up.
Eddie breathed hard on the other line. "Hey lovely."
"Eddie…are you all right?" she asked, hearing the strain in his voice.
"Yes, I'm fine, but my car isn't," he told her in grunts. "I can't take you to the party, darling, I'm sorry. Maybe I can come later on, but right now I need to get John over here and have my car towed…"
"Oh I'm ever so sorry, Eddie!" she squeaked worriedly. "You're sure you're all right?"
"Yes," he sighed hopelessly. "Just pretty mad about the car…I can't believe it, that guy rear ended me real good, and then he just took off, I don't even know where to…"
Lila frowned. "You know, I won't go to the party if you--"
"No," he told her. "No, lovely, go on ahead. Rhonda wants you there. I'll try and show up later, all right?"
"If you're sure…"
"Positive," Eddie told her, a smile coming through in his voice. "Don't have too much fun without me, okay?"
"I won't," Lila said truthfully, and bid him goodbye. Sighing, she strongly considered not even going, but surely Eddie would be disappointed, especially if he came later. For his sake, she grabbed her coat and left her house, headed to the bus stop on her street, hoping that this minor predicament would be the worst of the night.
---
Arnold arrived at the Lloyd's manor fashionably late, just as he knew his hostess liked it. However, Rhonda wasn't the one who opened the door to invite him in; it was Phoebe.
"Oh--Hey, Phoebe," he greeted her brightly.
"Good evening, Arnold," she returned just as happily. "How are you doing? That's an enchanting costume!"
"Thanks, yours too," Arnold said. "How's the party looking so far?"
"Not so wonderful, truthfully," she admitted. "Would you happen to know the whereabouts of Sid? Rhonda's been searching around for him for the past hour. He was supposed to have arrived a long while before the party even started."
Arnold scratched at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Um, sorry, Phoebe, I don't really know where he could be…"
"Stinky and Harold haven't gotten here yet either, so he might be with them," Phoebe said mostly to herself, putting a hand to her chin. "Well, thanks anyway, Arnold. Refreshments and music are in the usual spots. I'll see you later!"
"Later, Phoebe," Arnold said, waving at her as she scurried off to the living room, probably to go after the hostess. He looked about himself, guessing that the party was much more crowded than it had been last year, and darted off in the direction of the punch table. As he poured himself a glass of the sparkling red juice, someone tapped his shoulder.
"Hey, you!"
Arnold met Isabella with a smile and replied, "Hey! Great costume, Izzy, it's uh…Belle, right?"
"Yeah, it is," she said, her face flushing.
"Wow, it looks really authentic," he told her, examining the ball gown.
"Rhonda's parents ordered special custom-made dresses for Rhonda's girls," Isabella said.
"Wow…I didn't know you were such good friends with Rhonda," Arnold said, surprised.
"I'm not," she laughed hollowly. "She was just in need of a Belle. You'll notice the Disney princess theme tonight. Even Lila's one of them."
"Lila?" Arnold repeated. "She's here too?"
"If she's not here yet, I'm sure she's coming," Isabella said. "She's the Little Mermaid. She's the only redhead Rhonda talks to, so…"
"I see," Arnold said, scanning the room for Lila. "How long have you been here?"
"Around fifteen minutes," she said, pouring herself a glass of punch. "I didn't leave until Robbie took off. My Aunt hates it when Robbie's home alone. She thinks he'll set the apartment on fire or something."
Arnold furrowed his brow, wondering how likely such an idea was, and said, "Does he know you're here?"
Isabella shook her head. "He shouldn't. All I said was that I'd be at a party--I didn't say whose. Luckily, he doesn't know that I know Rhonda." She sipped her drink and smacked her lips, then giggled, "Plus, there's a ton of parties going on in the city tonight--what are the chances he'll crash this one?"
Arnold chortled with her and sipped his drink too, hoping that Robbie really was as dumb as she'd made him seem. He'd never met the guy before, but from what had been going through the grapevine, he didn't particularly want to.
"So, who are you supposed to be, hm?" Isabella asked, elbowing him playfully.
"Oh--uh--Prince…Phillip," he answered uneasily, hoping he didn't sound like a sap. "Ya know, from uh…"
"Sleeping Beauty," Isabella finished. "Any reason why?"
Arnold shrugged and sipped his drink again. "I couldn't really think of anything else to be…"
"Sure," Isabella said slowly. "It has nothing to do with that Princess Aurora over there, right?"
"Where?" Arnold asked, startled.
Isabella jerked her head towards the entrance to the living room, where a very beautiful blonde girl in a pink ball gown was conversing with a frazzled and clearly upset Snow White.
"Helga and Rhonda," Isabella said, grinning devilishly.
Arnold felt his face flush. He opened his mouth to spit out some sort of believable explanation, but she was nowhere near as gullible as he'd hoped.
"And you're gonna try to tell me that dressing as her prince was a coincidence?" Isabella teased, watching with glee as Arnold swayed on the spot uncomfortably. "Don't worry. I hear you're a great actor--you'll have no problem playing it off like it was an accident."
Before Arnold could say anything, Isabella bustled away upstairs, where a few people had started playing pool. Alone with the refreshments, Arnold looked desperately around the room for Gerald, who was nowhere in sight.
---
"--And he won't answer his phone, and Stinky swears he doesn't know where he is--"
"Will you pipe down, Princess? Freaking out like this isn't gonna make him get here any faster!"
Rhonda and Helga scurried upstairs into the Billiards room, arguing on the way.
"Didn't you hear Lila talking about that car accident?!" Rhonda screeched. "What if Sid got caught up in it? What if he's hurt somewhere?"
"That accident happened a couple streets down from Lila's house," Helga told her, resting her hands on her hips in a know-it-all fashion. "Sid lives on the opposite side of the neighborhood; why would he be over there?"
Rhonda huffed and puffed and sank into one of the plastic chairs that were set up, burying her face in her hands. "I haven't heard from him all day--what could he be doing?"
"He's probably still mad at you for going through with the whole Disney couples idea and wants to piss you off by showing up halfway into the party," Helga guessed reasonably.
"Oh whatever, Sid's not that immature!" Rhonda argued.
Helga shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna go run by his house and see if he's there, okay? Just try and chill out--there's probably nothing wrong with him."
Helga left the hostess sulking in her seat and descended the staircase, entering the spare room and looking about, wondering if maybe Sid had arrived and was just hiding from Rhonda. Why he would feel the need to do so, she didn't know, but she continued looking for him anyway. She was about to turn into the living room when someone bumped into her and nearly knocked her over.
"Ouch--dammit, watch where you're--"
"Helga!"
"Arnold!" she gasped, leaning on the wall. Shaking her head furiously, she demanded, "Where's the fire, Football Head?"
"I could ask you the same thing," he returned, adjusting the clasp on his cloak. "What's wrong?"
"Princess Rhonda's up there moping around because Sid hasn't shown up yet," Helga told him, jerking her thumb towards the staircase. "You seen him?"
Arnold shook his head, subtly eyeing her body in that flowing pink gown.
Helga scoffed and put a hand to her forehead. "I swear, when I find that little runt--"
"Do you need help looking?" Arnold asked quickly.
Helga met his eyes uncertainly, stammering a slur of "if you really want to" and "whatever floats your boat" and quickly made a dash for the front door. She jogged carelessly down the front steps despite her dragging hem and set off down the sidewalk.
"W-where are we going?" Arnold asked her, finally matching her stride.
"Seeing if the shrimp is still at home," Helga answered sharply, gathering her skirts. Rhonda would kill her if she got this costume the least bit dirty.
Arnold breathed a long sigh, sparking curiosity in the blonde girl.
"What's eating you?"
"I…think I might know why Sid hasn't shown up yet."
---
It was a place he'd often visited in his many fantasies--regal and luxurious; fit for a princess. Pink walls with white trim, elaborate white dresser sets and vanity, a lavish canopy bed--complete with an entertainment center and princess-sized walk-in closet. Yes, Rhonda Lloyd's bedroom looked exactly as he pictured it would in his head. He would have killed to step foot inside of it, even for just a minute, only a year ago--but now, peering in to find the raven-haired girl sobbing obnoxiously on the bed over a seemingly trivial matter, he wasn't so sure.
"Uh…Rhonda?"
"What do you want, you fiend?"
Curly tiptoed into her room, removing his magician's hat and gloves as he did so. Dismally, he considered her face, taking note of the tears that had smudged what little makeup she'd worn.
"Uh…I talked to Helga. She said Sid's on his way over here."
"He is?" she gushed, sniffling and wiping her cheeks. "Is he all right? What took him so long? What happened?"
"He uh…actually didn't plan on coming," Curly answered, feeling more than only slightly apprehensive.
"What?" Rhonda uttered, completely disbelieving. "You're joking. That's totally ridiculous; why wouldn't he want to come?"
"He didn't wanna wear your costume."
Rhonda gawked at him for a few moments, mouth agape; it seemed as if she were going to somehow stab him with her shadowing dark eyes, but she then gave a slow, hollow laugh.
"You're not serious."
Curly swallowed and cocked his head. "I'm…not lying, Rhonda."
"He didn't show up because he didn't wanna wear my costume," she repeated, standing up slowly. "My custom-made, two-hundred twenty-five dollar Prince Charming costume that he promised me he was going to wear tonight for the party. That's what you're telling me, correct?"
Curly nodded, also standing up, level with her eyes. "Y-yeah."
"Thaddeus," Rhonda said mockingly sweetly, laying a hand on his shoulder (he quivered under her small touch), "I'm going to need you to fetch my boyfriend for me, please. If you don't mind. I need to have a word with him."
Nodding vigorously, Curly turned on his heel and exited Rhonda's bedroom, wondering why of all people, he had to be the one to break the news to her.
---
"This seat taken?"
Lila looked up to find Isabella, the stressed-out chocolate-haired girl she'd met properly only a day before. The way the golden bodice hugged her chest and the skirts accentuated her hips made her face get hot with jealousy, but she smiled up at her anyway and patted the chair.
"You keeping to yourself too?" she asked, flipping her curls over her shoulder.
Lila nodded and fiddled with the shimmering blue material of her dress.
"Isn't Eddie supposed to be coming?"
"He got into a car accident on the way to my house earlier," Lila told her with a low tone.
When Isabella's eyes widened, Lila shook her head. "Oh I'm certain he's all right--someone just carelessly rear-ended him. Eddie's okay. He still wanted to come here, though, he just…hasn't told me when yet."
"I see," Isabella said, adjusting her golden gloves and looking about the Billiards room. A few costumed boys were intently playing a game with a few upperclassmen girls watching, clearly only pretending to be interested.
"Is he dressing up?" she asked, eyeing a handsome boy standing to her far right, clad in ballroom attire.
Lila felt her head lighten a little as she answered, "Yes, he's coming as a masquerade gentleman."
"Not as your prince, Ariel?" Isabella teased.
"I told him he didn't have to be Prince Eric if he didn't want to," Lila said graciously. "He was excited about wearing something that required a mask--I didn't want to ruin his fun by commanding that we coordinate outfits."
"At least someone thinks their boyfriend's preferences have some importance."
Lila furrowed her brow in question, and Isabella scoffed.
"You didn't hear the yelling from upstairs?"
Before Lila even shook her head, Isabella explained, "Sid and Rhonda are getting into it over some costume issue. Apparently she's flipping because Sid didn't wanna be caught dead in a fancy prince getup."
Lila raised her eyebrows in slight disbelief while Isabella scratched idly at her neck. "The whole thing's stupid--Rhonda's such a drama queen. She treats Sid like he's some…I don't know. Her man candy or something. There's no depth to their relationship, as far as I can see."
Lila shifted in her seat, thinking that the last phrase she uttered had the most meaning in everything she'd just said. Uncomfortably, Lila murmured, "Well…she doesn't really ask Sid to do anything for her, and he never really does…coming to the party as her Prince Charming was the only thing she wanted, and he couldn't even do that for her…"
Isabella rolled her eyes, nonverbally expressing her disagreement with that, but shrugged. "Oh well. Not our worry, right?"
Lila nodded and smiled slightly. "I'm oh too sure of it."
"It sounds kinda mean," Isabella started, "but I kinda hope they break up."
Lila swallowed. She couldn't say that she agreed, but she knew of people who did--most of those people being Rhonda and Sid's own close friends. When your own dearest friends thought you should split with someone, Lila thought, it must be true. She looked uncertainly at Isabella and wondered who thought the same about her and Eddie.
---
"How is she?"
"Who, Princess?"
"If by that you mean Rhonda--"
"Still bitching at Popsicle Nose."
"Still?"
Arnold and Helga had been keeping most of the guests entertained with the presentation of the special desserts and various party games for the past couple of hours; a task neither of them enjoyed very much. Helga was too impatient and uptight to be a hostess, and Arnold was exhausted from being bombarded by all the people there.
If he didn't know better, he could suppose that Helga's flaring temper was due to the excessive amount of attention he'd been getting from the skimpily-clad upperclassmen girls, but he wouldn't admit such a conceited notion out loud. He'd been making a joke of it most of the night, but Helga wasn't taking to it. The subject of Rhonda's plight with Sid hadn't made it much better.
"You think maybe--maybe we should go up and check on them?" he suggested a little worriedly.
"What, to make sure Sid didn't get stabbed with salon scissors?" Helga asked sarcastically, smirking.
Arnold swallowed, furrowing his brow. "Uh…"
"I wouldn't intrude, if I were you," Helga told him seriously. "Hell, I wouldn't do it, even being me."
"But they've been up there a really long time--"
"So?"
"You seem pretty unenthusiastic about what's going on with them," Arnold said, sitting down next to the blonde. She had taken a breather out on the balcony to escape the mild chaos inside, and he followed after making sure the remaining thirty or so party guests were conveniently occupied with a Twister tournament.
Helga raised an eyebrow at him. "And you seem a little too interested, Arnoldo."
Arnold shrugged. "I just want to see them happy."
"Well you're not gonna see that anytime soon."
Arnold scooted closer to her on the bench, watching her eyes catch the moonlight as they met his.
"Why is that?" he asked softly.
"Because," she started, folding her arms, "as long as they're together, it's just not possible."
Arnold shook his head and frowned. "I don't understand."
Sighing in defeat, Helga rolled her eyes. Cinching Arnold's chin between her thumb and forefinger, she directed his head towards a window on the third story of the mansion, forcing him to look up into Rhonda's bedroom window. Hers and Sid's silhouettes could be seen behind the white curtain; arms flailing in anger and frustration and jaws dropping to let out screams.
"Look at them, Arnold. Just look."
He did. He was looking. Watching.
"They're still fighting, after two or three hours…"
"Doi," Helga said, releasing her grasp on his face. "Anyone who fights that long isn't a happy couple at all, and they're not gonna be one after it's over."
Arnold felt confused; he looked quizzically at her, only to see that she rolled her eyes again.
"Don't you get it, Football Head?" she barked, gesturing towards Rhonda's window. "Don't you see? All that over a stupid disagreement. That big blow-up just because Sid didn't wanna do one thing she wanted him to. What does that tell you, Arnold?"
"That…Rhonda gets too mad about stupid things?"
Helga put a hand to her forehead and then stared at him through half-lidded eyes. "Besides that. Come on, Arnoldo. You can't look at them up there and tell me you don't get it."
Arnold gazed slowly up towards the window, in time to see Sid's silhouette leaving the frame. Rhonda's shadowy figure yelled something else, and then her hands drew up to her face; her shoulders were lifting and dropping quickly. She sank beneath the frame as Arnold frowned.
"They're not enough," Helga started quietly, "for each other."
Arnold opened his mouth to question, but she shook her head. Slowly, she gathered the front of her rose-colored gown and rose up from the bench. Looking down at him knowingly, she finished, "Neither of 'em's got enough of what the other one needs."
Arnold rose up too, just as slowly, and argued, "Since when are relationships are all about what you need?"
Helga shrugged. "They're not. They're about what makes you happy."
"So--"
Helga headed towards the glass doors leading back inside. "Rhonda's needs make her happy, Arnold. Sid's not what she needs."
---
There were barely thirty people still running about the Lloyd mansion when Rhonda stormed out of her bedroom and marched out onto the balcony, taking no note of the groups of teens that formed paths for her as she made her way. Her tear-stained porcelain face gave the clear message that no one was to follow her; that she was to be left alone to breathe in the fresh night air under the few stars that gleamed in the Halloween sky. Still with a few sobs left in her, she huffed and puffed until she collapsed onto the bench that Arnold and Helga had occupied only ten or so minutes before, wishing that everyone still inside would just leave, even though she needed company to feel better. Rhonda hated nothing more than being alone. You get hurt when you're alone.
It seemed like hours she laid there, inhaling the crisp October breeze and waiting for the oncoming tears to dry up. She gradually shed her three or four hundred dollar Snow White costume, stripping down to her white underclothes and thigh-high stockings. The golden heels were the last to come off before she stopped undressing, and she then hugged her legs to her chest, resting her chin upon her knees. More hot tears streamed down her cheeks and she held this position, thinking that hardly anyone had ever seen her like this. They could now, if they cared to pull back the curtain and open the glass sliding door, but no one did. The anger in her built up as she heard their continuous and obnoxious laughter from inside.
Frustrated, Rhonda let out a screech, picked up one of her heels and tossed it at the sliding door. What was the point of making a scene like this if no one paid attention to it?
She stared at the glass for a few brief moments, half-hoping to see the curtain rustling; to hear the handle sliding, but no such noises came. Rhonda squinted, squeezing out more tears and wetting her kneecaps. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and buried her face in her legs, suddenly and strangely thinking of Curly as she gazed at her own white skin.
The year before, she and him had come out on the balcony, right in the middle of the freezing December weather, wearing only their underclothes. It was the night she got a phone call from her parents, telling her that they were going to California for a week without her, and she had been so upset that she cried. She had stormed out onto the balcony then, just as she did tonight, alone and crying, until Curly came out and sat on that very bench with her. She'd been sitting in that very position, and he copied her. He didn't say anything as she sobbed and complained, just stroked his finger through her hair gently, kissing her with his eyes until finally, Curly untangled himself and lightly, very lightly kissed her knees.
Rhonda blinked and felt more tears roll as she recalled this memory. She couldn't figure out why it was so very sweet, or why it was her favorite of Curly; it was so weird and random, but maybe, thinking back on it now, it was the whole reason.
She gasped. There was a flutter of curtains and a click of the handle, and then the whoosh of the sliding door. The sound of laughter was kicked up a few notches for a brief moment, then muffled again as Curly slid the door closed behind him. Weakly, he smiled at Rhonda and strode over to the bench.
"Well--this looks familiar."
Rhonda sniffled. "Hi, Thaddeus."
"Just because you look like a princess doesn't mean you have to talk to me like you are one," Curly told her, sitting down next to her feet.
"Do I really look like one now?" she murmured, sniffling again as she felt a few more tears escape her eyes.
Unsurprisingly, Curly smiled warmly and patted her knee. "You always look like one to me."
Rhonda coughed out a hollow laugh. "Well looks don't matter much, do they?"
Curly wiggled his eyebrows and shifted in his seat. "Well, coming from you, that statement has more meaning. I might actually believe it now."
Rhonda laughed again, more genuinely this time. She'd missed that. "Well, believe it…I learned the hard way."
"Sid?" Curly asked, suddenly very serious.
Rhonda hugged her knees tighter and nodded. "I'm starting to think…maybe I was wrong. Maybe I didn't like him enough for who he was…it was more about what he was."
"Cool, popular, smooth, talented, good-looking," Curly droned.
"Yeah…and everyone just--emphasized how great we were together, and I believed it, so I kept it because…"
"You made each other look good," Curly finished, practically taking the words right out of her mouth.
Rhonda open and closed her mouth, wondering what she wanted to say and how she could say it, but she didn't have any such luck.
"Curly…"
He hadn't taken his eyes off her, but a light entered them when she said his name. She'd missed that, too.
"I was wrong."
"About what?" he asked. She could scarcely sense the hope in his voice. It was almost--almost obvious.
"Everything," she said honestly, half-smiling at him.
He put a hand to her cheek. "You've got time to be right."
Confused, Rhonda gazed quizzically at him, wondering what to make of that statement, but he didn't elaborate. He just bent his head and lightly, very lightly kissed her knees. He drew his head back up slowly to smile at her, but before she could return it, a sudden silence coming from in the mansion broke the sound of their settling.
---
Isabella didn't know Eddie. Deep within herself, though she felt like she did--but she didn't. Not well.
So why did she feel like that when he strolled into the Lloyd mansion, sporting that extravagant ballroom mask and carrying that elaborate cane? Why did she suddenly become overwhelmed with a warmth; some spark of familiarity? Why did her insides tangle and twist when she saw him smile so widely at Lila, and why did she feel her head spinning when he led her down into the basement?
Because she did.
She did know Eddie.
At least, well enough to know that this boy was not him.
"Robbie!"
Isabella scampered down into the shadows of the pitch black basement, terrified of the scene she might come to face when she reached the bottom of the staircase. She saw nothing, of course; it was black, but she could still hear, and what heard--she did not like.
"Robbie!" she screeched again, half-hoping that some of the oblivious party guests upstairs could hear her. "Robbie!"
There were sighs, moans, grunts; muffled screams and frightened gasps; tapping and slapping; the clawing of nails on the wall. The sound of a two-way struggle; unquenched thirst for power on his part and futile resistance on hers. His pleasure against her fear. The sound of rape.
"Robbie!" she repeated, her throat straining. "Robbie, what are you doing?!"
A sigh, a whimper, and then a scratching; like someone was sliding down against the wall. She had lost. A grunt and a few heaving breaths. The smacking of lips.
"Come to join the fun, Izzy?"
She couldn't tell in the dark how near she was to her brother, but apparently when she waved her to hand to slap him, she was close enough that she didn't miss.
"Oh please," Robbie drawled, grasping his sister's wrist. "You're slipping, sis."
"Let me go!" Isabella demanded, struggling in her brother's hold. "What did you do to her?"
"What I'm not afraid to do again, if you don't shut your mouth," Robbie groaned huskily, pulling her closer.
"Don't even dare," Isabella whispered fiercely, writhing and struggling. "I could beat the living hell out of you, Robert…"
"Not after I break you…"
"You wouldn't even try," she challenged him, finally breaking free of his grasp. She shoved him, knocking him against a wall.
"You didn't win this time, sis," he grunted, shuffling around on the floor. "You tell anyone what happened--and you're next."
Isabella scurried over to Lila, who had her face buried in her knees. She wrapped her arms around the crouching, shivering girl, and surprisingly, she didn't quiver in her grasp.
"And you know," Robbie continued fiercely, "I'm not easy to escape at home."
"You're all talk, Robbie," Isabella spat.
"Oh really?" he asked. "Then why haven't you called the police yet?"
Isabella stared fiercely at her twin in the pitch dark, knowing well that he could clearly see the golden glint in her eyes perfectly despite.
"That's what I thought."
Robbie removed his mask and shoved it in a bag, then grabbed an item Isabella couldn't see, and yanked open a window.
"See you at home, beautiful. And remember…Mommy never liked a tattle-tail."
---
"Do you hear something?" Arnold asked Helga, watching her pour herself a glass of fruit cocktail.
"Hear what?"
"Shh," Arnold told a few kids near the refreshments table. "Now do you hear it?"
Helga put her free hand on her hip and droned, "I don't hear anything, Arnoldo."
"It sounds like…" Arnold said softly, looking about himself. The only people he saw were the ones sharing the bare guest room with himself and Helga and the ones chattering in the living room, but the noises weren't coming from either place. "Like…someone struggling."
"Struggling?" Helga repeated skeptically, setting down her drink. "It doesn't look like anyone's struggling from anything in here, Football Head."
"No, really, Helga," Arnold pressed, inching closer to her. "Listen--can't you hear it? It sounds like--like someone's muffling a scream or something."
Helga's eyes rocked from left to right, listening intently, but she shook her head. "I think you're going crazy, Arnold, I'm not hearing it."
"I'm not crazy, Helga, I hear it!" Arnold insisted, grabbing her arm and dragging her to the foyer, in between the guest room and the living room. "Here--you can't tell me you can't hear it."
"Maybe if everyone would shut up, I could hear," Helga announced loudly, her commanding tone causing immediate silence among the guests.
Arnold looked intently at Helga, still with a firm grasp on her arm, watching her as she listened intently. As more noises were heard, her eyes locked on his in shock as she grabbed his shoulder.
"Where--where's it coming from?" she asked, in a gentler tone of voice.
"I don't know," Arnold said, looking about. "But we're gonna find out, come on--"
"Wait--who else could be here, though?" Helga said, tightening her grip. "Everyone's right here, on this floor!"
"Not Rhonda, or Curly," Arnold told her, grabbing her and dragging her back into the guest room. They pushed past the whispering teens, nearly knocking over the refreshments table as they bustled towards the sliding door, but Rhonda and Curly were emerging from the sliding door.
"Hey--are you guys okay?" Arnold asked, glancing between the two of them.
"We're fine," Rhonda said, wiping her eyes, still in her underclothes. "We were gonna come in here and ask you the same thing! Why is it so quiet in here?"
"We're hearing some noises," Gerald told her loudly, walking up beside Arnold. "We was upstairs playing pool, and then heard Helga yell something, and then we heard it--sounds creepy."
"Real creepy," Stinky added, removing his clown mask and wringing it in his hands. "Ya got some ghosts in this mansion or somethin' Rhonda?"
"Don't be stupid," Rhonda grunted, pushing past her guests and heading towards the stairs, "there's no ghosts in this place--where did you hear it?"
"All around," Stinky told her. "If ya be quiet and listen, you can hear it. Sounds like a dog bein' choked by the collar or somethin', I swear."
Rhonda held up a hand to demand silence, and looked upstairs. The Billiards rooms was deserted, but she headed up there anyway, just to look. Everyone looked upward, listening to Rhonda's footsteps as she searched around the pool table and in her father's bar and came around back down the staircase.
"No one is up there--who's left here?"
"Only about thirty of us or so," Stinky told her. He pointed to himself and Rhonda and the few that surrounded him and said, "Us six, and then the juniors over there, and a couple a seniors over here, and Phoebe, Sheena, Park, Nadine, Eugene, Peapod Kid, Lila, Isabella--"
"Wait," Arnold said, glancing behind himself. "I didn't see Lila in here for a little bit."
"I thought she went outside to see Eddie?" Sheena spoke up, squeaking.
"I didn't see her go," Nadine said, furrowing her brow.
"Eddie couldn't have come in here, though," Helga said, looking cynical. "He just called me from his house phone--said his cell phone got stolen and that he's not gonna make it tonight."
"Then who was that guy that went downstairs with her?" Park asked obliviously, pointing to a door in the back of the living room.
---
Everything looked so different in the light, Lila thought. You could see everything; everything that was potentially dangerous, and everything that was considered to be safe. You couldn't hide, but neither could anyone else. Reality was out in the open, eliminating the nightmares, showing you the truth. There was nothing to be afraid of in the light.
Rhonda had chased nearly everyone out of the house except their tightly-knit circle of friends. The lot of them had clustered into the basement, surrounding Lila closely but giving her enough room to breathe. They all wanted to know what had happened, but not one of them had asked during the twenty minutes they'd been sitting in total silence together.
As she wanted it, it was Lila who spoke first.
"I don't know who he was. I thought I did, of course--I thought it was Eddie, but…Eddie would never treat me like that. I'm certain he wouldn't. He never, ever touches me like that. I know it wasn't him. But that…unfortunately, is all that I do know."
"Izzy," Arnold started; Lila's eyes widened, "did you see who--"
"No," Lila cut him off. She felt Isabella tightened her grasp on her hand. "She didn't. She came down here right as he ran for it."
Isabella kept her eyes focused on the floor. She knew not to say a word.
Several of the friends exchanged glances, and then Stinky said, "Who coulda done somethin' like this?"
"Someone who hates Lila," Nadine suggested, looking around.
"A guy who hates Lila?" Sheena reworded, looking skeptical. "I've never met any boy who hated any girl so much that he'd do this…"
"You'd be surprised," Gerald started, crossing his arms.
Phoebe looked incredulous. "Gerald, why would you say something like that?"
"What?" Gerald snapped. "There's crazy people in this city--including at our school!"
"Gerald's right," Nadine agreed. "I'm sure there's guys we don't know about that would do this."
"It had to have been someone at this party, though," Eugene offered, seeming confident about the idea. "Someone who knows Lila--or at least, knows Rhonda."
"What if this was some--bizarre scheme to get to Rhonda?" Curly piped up, but Rhonda waved her hands.
"Ridiculous. If someone wanted to rape me, they would have made sure they got me--and they wouldn't do it the night I was hosting a party, for Heaven's sake."
"It doesn't matter why," Arnold said. "It matters who. We have to find this guy and make sure he's put away, so he doesn't do it again."
"Do you remember anything about him, Lila?" Eugene asked calmly, shifting in his spot on the floor. "The way he smelled, his height, his--"
"No, I don't," Lila said, her voice shaking. "Besides--none of it would help very much in identifying the person…"
"But it could narrow it down at least a little bit," Eugene offered, frowning. "For example, if he smelled like cigarettes, we would know to look for a smoker…"
Rhonda groaned and buried her face in her hands. "I just wanna know how this happened in my home, right under all of our noses…"
"Well--" Arnold began thoughtfully, "he looked like Eddie, didn't he?"
A few of the kids perked up.
"We just have to find someone who looks like him, right?" Arnold asked the group, looking from person to person. "At least we know he has his hair color--that'll narrow it down some."
"Yeah, you're right, Arnold," Park agreed, pointing his way. "Eddie's a brunette with fair skin, about average height--"
"Relatively thin, not too much muscle," Sheena added.
Lila swallowed.
"Obviously has to be someone with a license," Helga tossed in lazily.
"Or a bus pass," Eugene added. "How else could he have gotten here?"
"That too," Arnold agreed, smiling slightly at Helga. "See? It shouldn't be too hard, we--"
"Stop," Lila demanded hoarsely, coming off more irritably than intended. "Please…stop."
Arnold gawked at her, baffled, along with mostly everyone else. Rhonda even lifted her face from her hands to stare at her in confusion.
"Listen…I really appreciate you all wanting to help me--I do, ever so much, but…"
She rose up from her spot on the couch, releasing her hand from Isabella's. Her eyes danced around the room, resting on everyone's faces one at a time before she let out a defeated sigh.
"This is my battle. My own. I can't ask you to fight it for me."
"But Lila," Arnold started gently, "we only want to help y--"
"I know," she returned softly, gazing at him fondly. "I know. I cherish that ever so much. But I can't risk anything happening to any of you."
"Nothing's gonna happen to any of us," Eugene told her confidently. "They can't know who most of us are!"
"They could, though," Lila argued softly. "They could."
The friends looked at one another uneasily, uncomfortably; all wanting to agree but unwilling to admit it out loud. They didn't know who it was, but they couldn't deny the possibility that he knew who they were.
And he did.
But they didn't know.
Lila breathed erratically, slipping into her flats and grabbing her coat. "I'm done. It's over…for now. I'll find this guy on my own…"
She looked down at Isabella, who stared helplessly back up at her. If eyes could do the talking for her, they would be apologizing.
But she wasn't the one who needed to.
"And when I do…I'll see to it that he is punished."
"Are you leaving?" Curly asked her, watching her approach the stairs.
"Don't go alone," Arnold told her, and Isabella rose up.
"I'll go too."
Arnold looked sorrowfully at her and said, "Izzy, really, I'd feel better if a guy--"
"I'll take them," Park offered, grinning at Isabella. Eugene got up off the floor, also grinning.
"Both of you?" Rhonda said, glancing to and from the boys.
"We got it," Eugene said, winking and striding up behind Lila. "Don't worry."
The rest of the group looked thankfully at Park and Eugene and watched them ascend the staircase with the girls. As Isabella took her first step up, she looked about the room and bit her lip.
"Before he left…he said, 'you're next.'"
The remaining girls gasped; the boys perked up in their seats, worried.
"So…" Isabella breathed, walking up the stairs, "I think we would do well to be careful."
She disappeared into the dark of the second floor.
---
"Do you think it's true?"
Helga looked quizzically at Arnold, who strode beside her; the cloak of his royal attire flowing behind him, catching the autumn wind.
"What's true?"
"That he might know us."
Helga stared ahead of herself, into the dark of the October night, which was only dotted by streetlights.
"…I think it could be."
She didn't have to look beside herself to know that he was frowning. He was worried, just like the rest of them, but even more so--because he was Arnold.
"Hey," she said light-heartedly, elbowing him, "we got nothing to worry about, right?"
Arnold raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued, "I mean--look at us. The girls, I mean--we're tough, me and Rhonda. We'll be okay."
"Being tough is only more motivation for them to try and break you," Arnold said quietly, stopping on the sidewalk.
"Try is the keyword in there, Football Head," Helga insisted, pulling him by the arm further down the street.
"Helga."
Arnold stopped again, right under the streetlight; his figure illuminated by the dimming yellow color, appearing more like an angel than a chivalrous prince from a fairy tale. The gold streaks in his deep, olive green eyes could be noticed even more than a foot away, where Helga stood. She smiled in mild adoration at him, thinking that angels seemed more charming and beautiful anyway--since they were real. Like Arnold.
She walked back towards him, also illuminated by the streetlight now.
"You okay, Arnold?" she asked girlishly, twisting her mouth.
"She was too calm about it," Arnold said slowly, looking off into the dark parts of the streets. "It's almost as if…like it happened to her before."
Helga felt wrinkles in her forehead as she cocked her head off to one side in question.
"I wondered--sitting in the basement," he started, breathing shallowly, "if…could this be what she was running from? Is that why she came back?"
"You mean," Helga began, "it happened wherever she went off to in the summer?"
Arnold nodded, biting on his bottom lip as he did so. "I just…I dunno. I'm probably wrong. I mean…I don't know. The whole thing is just…crazy."
Helga shrugged in agreement, wondering if he was aware that he was inching closer to her body.
"I'm--I'm really scared, Helga," he said childishly, gazing at her under the light helplessly. "I--I don't know what I'll do if he does it again--or if I find out who he is. Or if he does know us…I don't know what I'll do if…"
He stopped, suddenly fixated on his feet, inches away from hers. He breathed more slowly now, fiddling with his fingers and biting on his lip again, as if he were trying with difficulty not to say something.
But I want you to, she thought, trying to get him to look at her. Say it. You're thinking it, I know you are, Football Head. Say it.
"I don't know," he murmured, finally meeting her sky-blue eyes. "I'm just…I hope he doesn't know us, because…I don't want him to get you."
A fleeting feeling swept over the blonde girl as she felt an uncontrollable grin grace her mouth.
"You don't have to worry, Arnoldo," she said confidently, losing herself in his gold-streaked eyes. "No one's gonna get Helga G. Pataki."
His features softened; she could tell he was comforted even by just a sentence. "Yeah. You're right."
He weaved his fingers between hers. "Because I won't let anyone."
Helga lifted her eyebrows. "Well good--you are my prince, aren'tcha?"
Arnold looked baffled at her as she laughed.
"Oh get real, Prince Phillip--do you really think I wouldn't notice?"
---
A/N: That…was a very long chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it! I know you all know who it was that got Lila--key is, they don't, but now they're a couple steps closer to finding out. Lots of relationships breaking and tightening in here--stay siked for more. Update coming soon. My birthday is Saturday, so hopefully I have another update before then. Love yew kidz.