Love Is Like A Baseball Bat
Chapter Fourteen: Meet Me in Mighty Pete
"Since when do you know how to drive a bus?" Phoebe asked as the thirteen guys darted towards the school's parking lot.
"Fourth grade. Saving the neighborhood, remember?" Gerald replied as he threw the school bus into drive. Gerald sped through the streets, not really caring about how many rules he was breaking.
"Dude, what the fuck are you doing!" Jack yelled as he held onto the seat in front of him for dear life.
"Shut up and let me drive!" Gerald snarled, pleased with himself when Jackass didn't respond with a sarcastic comment.
Ten minutes later the team arrived at the hospital, leaving the bus parked in the front, key in the ignition, and the font and back doors wide open.
"I'm going to talk to the doctors. You wait in the waiting room! Phoebe, you're in charge," Gerald ran down the hallway towards the operating room. He saw Helga and Alex sitting in front of the operating room doors, cell phones in hand.
He was panting, "I have the team here. Any word yet?"
"Arnold's with John at the police station, waiting for Mrs. and Mrs. Jensen. Arnold sounded so disappointed." Helga slammed her phone on the ground.
"I've called Diedrek's family. His wife will be here soon. We should go to the kids." Alex picked Helga up off the floor and the three walked back towards the waiting room.
Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Diedrek came running in, tears in her eyes. "Alex!" Alex ran to her, half-smiling. He grabbed her into for a quick hug. "What happened?"
"A crazy kid shot him," Helga replied.
Alex shook his head, "One of the freshman baseball players has a mental breakdown today and tried to shoot Arnold. Diedrek had to be the hero and try to stop him after hours of being held hostage."
Mrs. Diedrek smiled, tears running down her cheek. "I'm not surprised."
"He'll be okay. We're all here for you."
H-A!-H-A!
The Jensens paced anxiously in front of the double doors leading to the back of the Hillwood Police station. It had been three hours since John was whisked off campus in the back of a police car. The cops refused to release John until he was "stable" - whatever that meant.
"I can't believe this."
"This is a disaster."
Arnold sat by silently, trying to keep his face passive as the anger built up inside of him. Amy sat next to him, texting away without a care in the world.
Arnold turned to her once she shut her phone. "Don't you care that your brother could have potentially murdered someone?"
She laughed. "Why do you think we moved here in the first place?"
"What does that mean?"
Amy shrugged and leaned closer, lowering her voice into a whisper. "This has happened before. He's always had anger issues. He's been getting into physical fights since pre-school. There's something wrong with his brain, too much pressure on the amygdala or some weird shit like that. I don't know, I've never paid attention to it. He's just been taking different meeds since middle school. But for a while he didn't take them, and he got into some really violent knife fights."
"So, just because he stopped taking his meds he starts shooting people?"
"Well that, and probably because Jack provoked him. I know Jack treats him like shit, but I figured that if he was on his meds nothing would happen."
"But you were wrong. And you didn't feel the need to tell your parents?"
"You never told them either."
"I never knew it was an issue. Believe me, if I had known that he wasn't on his meds, or that he even took them, this would've ended weeks ago."
"Alright, Arnold, whatever you say."
"Mr. and Mrs. Jensen?" a voice called from behind the doors. The two ran forwards, not even waiting to be directed. Arnold and Amy slowly followed behind, passing different interrogation rooms as well as the cop's offices.
The four reached the end of the all-white hallway and turned right, quietly shuffling into another room behind the police officer. Arnold realized that they were in a very small interrogation room, standing on the other side of a two-way mirror.
The cop collapsed in the chair by the far corner, whispering, "We had to restrain him in his chair. He's refusing to talk to us and tell us what provoked his crime against Mr. Diedrek. He won't even tell us how he got the gun."
"Can we talk to him?" Mr. Jensen asked.
"No. He needs to talk on his own. We're hoping that by bringing you in here, you can tell us what he's doing."
On the other side, John was carefully released from the restraints and he began doing basic arm stretches.
"He's stretching," the cop said, "but we have no idea why."
"They're baseball stretches," Arnold whispered.
"Why would he be doing baseball stretches?"
"I've seen him do them in the hallways at school. Either he has serious problems with his arms or he does them to relax."
"And you wonder why he has no friends," Amy muttered under her breath.
"We're bringing in a psychologist to talk to him. Hopefully that'll clear some things up."
The four were excused and shortly after Amy left the police station to "hang out with her friends." Arnold should've gone to find out about Diedrek, but he knew he couldn't handle seeing him at the moment. So he decided to stay in the police station, help with paper work and offer support to his only borders. John was simply refusing to talk to anyone, let alone another shrink.
Arnold should've been at the hospital hours ago, but John's refusal to speak made is difficult for him to leave. If John said anything about him then he'd have to stay around anyway.
"Arnold, we really appreciate you for sticking around for five and a half hours, but we think you should go home," Mrs. Jensen said in her most mothering tone.
"I can't-"
"I think you should. You look like you need some sleep and a shower. And some really good food."
Arnold's stomach growled in response to the mention of food. Maybe an hour at home before he went to visit Diedrek wasn't such a bad idea.
Two hours later, Arnold was showered and fed and ready to leave. But as he took one last look around his room, he realized just how inviting his bed looked. No one would miss him for thirty more minutes, would they?
Somehow those thirty minutes turned into a few more hours. Arnold was sleeping peacefully until a sudden surprising nightmare startled him out of rest. He glanced at the clock, wondering how long he'd slept. It was 12:25 a.m.
H-A!-H-A!
Alex's eye lids were heavy, he couldn't keep them open any longer. He had been waiting in the same room for almost ten hours. After seven hours of surgery, Diedrek was finally moved into a private room. It was almost midnight, if his half-asleep math calculations were correct.
Alex heard movement in the room, so he let his ears stay alert while the rest of his body reclined awkwardly in the chair. Mrs. Diedrek slowly stretched her aching bones before rising to her feet, creating the noise Alex heard.
Another sound of a body crossing the room invaded Alex's mind. Either it was a nurse or a visitor, but the overwhelming scent of soap made Alex assume it was a nurse.
The door opened and shut in a three second span, Alex knew Mrs. Diedrek had left. He was starving, but he was afraid to leave. The invader was pacing around the bed. He could feel the cool shadow as it darted back and forth.
Since Alex had no family in Hillwood, he thought of Diedrek as an uncle-type relation. Unfortunately, Alex had to be the one to call Diedrek's thirty-two-year-old son Zach and inform him of the recent events. Zach was planning on arriving with his wife and kids ASAP on the next flight out of California.
"Diedrek, I know you're alive, so please listen to me," sobs caused the voice to fall silent. "You are the biggest idiot I've ever met for trying to stop a maniac." There was a sigh. "But, I owe you everything. . .You came to my rescue when I was trapped in Boston. You convinced me to rejoin the baseball team three times, I think, at last count. Even though you got up and replaced me in a nanosecond, it was out of the best interest for the team. I know you meant nothing personally. I mean, we had suffered enough together for you to just ditch me. You stuck by me when I was stung by jellyfish, thrown in jail, and then there were all the times in practice when I refused to run. You pushed me. . . .You pushed me to be a better person through baseball. You taught me to never give up just because things got hard. You," the voice cracked, "you offered me a place in your home when I had no where else to go. . . You care about me more than my own asshole father does. I know you do. Diedrek, please, wake up."
Alex slowly opened his eyes, faked a yawn, and stretched his body again. Helga looked up from the bed to glare at Alex.
"I didn't know you were awake," Helga bolted towards the door.
"Slow down, Pataki. I actually need to talk to you."
"What?" she asked harshly.
Alex slowly rose to his feet, cracking his back before stepping outside of the room. He kept his eyes focused on Diedrek through the window before speaking, "Did you know Arnold's not applying to college?"
"No. . . I had no idea. How did you find out?"
"Well-"
A tall, slender man wearing a COLLEGE NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP 2010 baseball cap stepped in front of Arnold after baseball practice. He looked down at the clipboard in his hand before smiling at Arnold. He stuck his hand out, "Mr. Shortman?"
"Please, call me Arnold," he smiled and returned the handshake.
"I'm from The University of South Carolina and we'd like to offer you a full-ride, four year baseball scholarship."
Arnold choked on his spit. "I beg your pardon?"
"You're an incredible pitcher and a great outfielder. We could use a guy like you on the Gamecocks."
"I'm honored, Mr.-"
"Harris."
"Harris," Arnold repeated, smiling. "This is an incredible offer, but I really can't accept it."
"Why not? You haven't even thought about it." Mr. Harris paused. "Are you already committed to a school?"
Arnold shook his football-shaped head. "I haven't even started applying. I don't even think I'll be going to college, honestly." He shrugged. "A lot has happened in the past year that have delayed my personal actions."
"May I ask what's wrong?"
Arnold nodded, knowing sooner or later he'd have to tell someone why he wasn't going to college. "My parents were lost in the jungles of San Lorzeno when I was a baby. I grew up with my grandparents, and this past year they died in a fire-"
"Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry," Mr. Harris awkwardly rested his hand on Arnold's shoulder. The two smiled to attempt to break the weird silence.
"And now I run the boarding house my grandparents used to own. It's an historic landmark," Arnold smiled, "at least that's what they always told me. So I have to stay and take care of the place."
"You don't have anyone that could do it for you?"
"I do, but it's not his responsibility. It's my house, my job. And besides, you wouldn't want a student like me at your college. My test scores are terrible. And I think I'm failing at least four of my classes."
Mr. Harris laughed, "I appreciate your honesty, Arnold. But your sports talent is so great that we don't care about your grades. And with your new responsibilities running your boarding house, it's understandable that your school work got pushed behind. You had two lives to live."
"Three, actually."
Mr. Harris saw Arnold's smile, concluding with immediate understanding."Girlfriend?"
"Yeah. She actually played baseball with us, until Jack Dwayne showed up with his 100 mph pitching average."
"Is this kid on drugs?"
Arnold shrugged, "I don't think so. But if I were you I'd act on him fast. He's a freshman, but his future looks to be extremely promising. By this time next year, colleges will be down his throat."
"Let me give you my card incase you change your mind." He handed Arnold a business card and an information packet on the University of South Carolina. "It was great to meet you Arnold, and I'll still be in touch. Don't think you can get rid of me that easily. "
Arnold chuckled before pocketing the card, "Thank you, Mr. Harris."
"And thank you for the tip," he waved before darting forwards towards Coach Alex.
"-And then Mr. Harris told me about their exchange." Alex paused, "Helga, you have to talk to him."
She shook her head no. "I don't know if I can do that, Alex."
Alex voice rose, "Why not?" He covered his mouth, realizing he was screaming. He mumbled behind his hand, "You're his girlfriend!"
"Yeah, his girlfriend not his mother." The two stopped talking when Mrs. Diedrek walked by. Alex offered a friendly smile to the distressed woman, who half-smiled back. "I can't tell him to do anything. All I can do is listen and respect his decisions."
Alex smirked, "When did you get to be so mature?"
"I always have been, doi."
"Can you at least talk to him about it? Find out what the real reason is?"
"That story sounds like a perfectly legitimate reason to not apply to college." Helga crossed her arms over her chest.
"Don't be stubborn."
"Alright, fine. I'll talk to him once he calls me back." Helga tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but it clearly wasn't working.
"He's probably -" A sudden shout from Mrs. Diedrek made Helga and Alex jump. A nurse entered the room before either could even blink, followed by a doctor on her heels.
Alex shoved his way into the room, screaming, "What's happening?"
The doctor didn't answer, instead he began adjusting the medicines hanging in the IV bags, ignoring the beeping monitors and chaotic company. Helga finally forced herself to look into the window at Diedrek. His body was convulsing on the bed, reacting to whatever antibiotics the hospital had given him after surgery. He was jerking in different directions, practically foaming at the mouth. He was having a seizure.
Helga shut her eyes and tried to deafen her ears from the sounds of his body rocking violently against the bed. She turned her face away, feeling her lips twist into a grimace as she realized that maybe things wouldn't get better.
Her phone suddenly vibrated with a text. Sent 12:34 AM: Arnold: I'm leaving the boarding house now. Is he out of surgery?
Helga bit her lip and slid down the wall, trying to curl into herself as they rushed Diedrek out on his stretcher into another room. No one knew where he was going. Sent 12:35 AM: Helga: He got out of surgery fine. . .it's the recovery that's killing him.
Sent 12:36 AM: Arnold: What happened?
The moment after Helga sent her reply text,Zachary Diedrek, his wife, Mary, and his twelve-year-old twin daughters stepped into the hospital waiting room. They were pleasantly surprised to see the entire baseball team slumped awkwardly in chairs, texting on cell phones, staring straight ahead blankly into space or channel surfing on the hospital's limited cable.
"What are you guys doing here?" Zach asked.
The boys, Gerald and Phoebe all smiled at Zach. He was the spitting image of his father with the same well-defined jaw, dark green eyes and intimidating expression, except Zach had more black hair and less wrinkles.
"We can't just leave," Jack Dwayne replied from the far corner.
"He's never left us before," Thaddeus said from behind a National Alien Hunter magazine.
"Yeah, like when Helga got stung, he spent the night in the hospital with her," Iggy added.
"Plus, he'd never forgive us for ditching him," a junior added with a small chuckle. Zachary laughed along.
"Has anyone seen him yet?"
"No. Helga's back there with Alex and your mother, but we haven't actually visited yet," Gerald answered before rising to his feet and introducing himself and the rest of the team.
Phoebe fired a quick text to Helga, letting her know that Zachary had arrived. She appeared in the waiting room moments later with Alex and Mrs. Diedrek.
The silence that echoed through the room was astounding. Just from the simple glance at his mother, Zach knew it had gotten worse. He rushed towards her and offered her a comforting hug, trying to mentally convince himself that it would be okay. Mary guided her daughters to sit down and stay quiet while their father had a moment. The rest of the team all half-occupied themselves, occasionally glancing back at Zach and his mom.
Helga and Alex sat down with the rest of the team. After hushed whispers, Mrs. Diedrek tried to dismiss the boys."You guys should go home. I know you don't have school tomorrow, but still, you need your rest."
Alex's eyes grew wide as he looked at his cell phone. "And, sweet holy shit, we have a game tonight."
"We can't play without Diedrek!" another junior protested.
Gerald slammed his hand into his face. "It's our first game of the fall season!"
"We have to go guys," Alex slowly rose to his feet. The team reluctantly followed behind. "Come on, I'll drive the bus."
H-A-H-A!
Sent 12:36 AM: Helga: Seizure.
Arnold violently swore and slammed into the Packard's steering wheel. He waited impatiently for the light to change before speeding through the intersection. He glared at his cell phone clock: 12:59 a.m.
He absolutely hated this year, hated everything about it.
He sat at the next light, revving his engine, trying to think. He needed to clear his head find the bright side. He hadn't seen the bright side in months.
As he drove down a side street, he found himself pulling the Packard over and stepping out into the chilly night. He rocked on his heels, awe-struck at how small everything seemed now. Mighty Pete just didn't look as mighty as it had in the past.
Before Arnold knew what he was doing, he gripped onto the ladder and shakily climbed upwards. The rotting floorboards creaked under the weight. He was overcome with a small sense of deja vu, as well as questions. How long had it been? Almost ten years since the gang last hung out here. Arnold collapsed against the window, resting his head in his hands. Now was the perfect time to clear his head.
His first thought was Helga. When was the last time he really spoke to her? The two were in and out of sleep during their time as hostages, trying to mentally block the day, acting as if it was a dream. But it wasn't. He would know. He had been wishing his life was a dream since last year.
He was probably one of the world's worst boyfriends, too. He couldn't even be there for him when she needed it. He really needed to figure out what he wanted. He loved Helga, and wanted to be with her. That would never change. But everything else. Everything else had to change.
As he thought about it, he could feel a small, minute amount of pressure release from his shoulders. Thinking everything out was definitely going to help him. If only he could figure out a way to help Helga through this. She'd never admit it to anyone - let alone herself - about how much she cared about Diedrek. The complete lack of a supportive father figure in her life was proof enough that she needed someone to watch over her.
A knot twisted in Arnold's stomach as Diedrek remained on his mind. What the hell was he supposed to do? If he lost someone else. . . It wasn't like he was crazy enough already. He was already stretched to the breaking point - stress from baseball, failing half of his courses, running the boarding house, and the events from today alone were all piling up.
Arnold slammed his fists into the floor, releasing an angry scream. He just wanted to punch something. He needed to get rid of this energy. He needed to. . . to do something. This was like Spain all over again. He was helpless, miles away from the problem, and by the time he'd get there it would all be over.
Someone had it out for him. Someone out there in the great beyond hated him. No one's life could be ending up like this on purpose.
The more Arnold thought, the more he remembered his crazy childhood. Crazy weather patterns, crazy business tycoons taking over his neighborhood, crazy classmates, crazy teachers, crazy everything.
Arnold started laughing. It started as a small giggle, then grew into a full blown gut-wrenching laugh. His life was ridiculous and he only now, eighteen years later, was realizing it. His childhood optimism had clearly kept him from seeing it.
Once he started breathing regularly again, his mind began to wander back to fourth grade, back to when he found his dad's journal. He could remember spending hours pouring over the map, days simply rereading the thing. It was his favorite thing to do. He used to carry it with him everywhere until he realized back in fifth grade that he'd never get the chance to find them. They were lost - probably dead - in the jungles of San Lorenzo, and with an extreme lack of funds or a legitimate map, he'd never find them. That journal was burned in the fire. Unless. . .Arnold's heart started racing. He quickly searched around Mighty Pete for a piece of paper and a pen. He found the small dresser they'd stored in here and began searching. Both things were covered in dust, and the pen was low on ink, but it would have to do. His shaking hand elegantly traced the lines across the page. The image was coming out clearly from his memory. The latitudes, the longitudes, the location of the rivers, the small details of the trees his father had drawn. It was all there. All blocked in the back of his memory. And now it was so overwhelmingly powerful that as soon as he finished he started to cry.
How could he have not thought of this sooner?
It suddenly donned on him that he had money put in the bank by the borders - as a parting gift for when they actually moved out years ago - for his college fund. And since he wasn't going to college. . .
A genuine smile crossed his lips for the first time in weeks.
Group Text Sent 1:30 a.m. Arnold: Come to Mighty Pete. I've got something you need to see.