Chapter 20

Arnold was worried. When Helga had come back from the office, he felt like his heart had crumpled in on itself. He felt a crushing sadness playing the thread between them like a violin, and when she'd finally made eye contact with him he knew without a doubt that something terrible had happened.

At the end of class, Mr. Lucheck beckoned Arnold over to his desk and waited for all the other students to leave. When they were alone, he said, "Arnold, I was wondering if you'd mind taking Helga's homework to her for the rest of the week?"

His heart sank. "Sure," he said. He thought about asking Mr. Lucheck why, but he got the feeling he knew exactly why. Mr. Lucheck began gathering his things.

Arnold reached the door then turned back to his teacher. "Mr. Lucheck, she's not a bad person. What happened-"

"I know, Arnold. From what I already know of her as a student, and what you wrote of her in your essay, I can say with the utmost confidence that Helga is a bright, passionate, and caring person. You're lucky to have each other." He smiled warmly at Arnold, who smiled in relief.

"Thanks, Mr. Lucheck."

Arnold headed to his next class. He had texted Helga a few times already, but to no response. By the time lunch period started, he decided to find Phoebe to see if she had heard from her.

Phoebe was in the lunch line looking lost without her friend. When she spotted Arnold, she said, "Oh, Arnold, have you seen Helga? I can't seem to find her anywhere."

Arnold relayed what happened during Advanced English and by the time he'd finished, Phoebe was covering her mouth. "Oh, no. Was she suspended, too, then? From school and the dance?"

"I don't know," he said.

Phoebe looked disheartened. "But we just got our dresses. And she was so excited."

Arnold felt awful. This would have been her first dance with him, and now she couldn't even go? "Phoebe, will you try texting her? She's not answering me."

She looked doubtful. "I mean, I can try, but she probably won't answer me either."

"I'm going to her house after school to make sure she's okay. Do you want to sit with me and Gerald?" he asked. Phoebe looked bashful.

"Why, yes, thank you," she said. As they walked to the table with their lunches, she asked one more thing. "Arnold, when you see her after school, will you let me know she's okay? And tell her I'm sorry if I caused this by going to the principal in the first place?"

"Of course, Phoebe," he said.

When they sat down, Gerald and Phoebe were more than happy to chat without his involvement. Arnold was glad, because his mind was far too preoccupied wondering if Helga was okay, and stayed preoccupied for the remainder of his classes.

After school, he drove straight to Helga's house. He knocked on the front door. The lights were off, and her parents didn't seem to be home. When he tried the door, however, he found that it wasn't locked. He opened the door and leaned inside.

"Helga," he called out cautiously. He heard noise from the living room and walked in. Helga was planted in an armchair in front of the TV, listlessly clicking through the channels.

He sighed in relief. "Phoebe and I were worried about you," he said. "Are you okay?"

She crossed her arms and clicked the TV off. "No," she said in a gruff voice. "I was suspended for the whole week, including the dance." Which is all my fault, she screamed inside.

"I'm so sorry," Arnold said softly, kneeling down and putting his hand on hers. "I know how much going to the dance meant to you. I was excited to go, too."

She slipped her hand out from under his, unable to accept his kindness, and stood up. She began pacing and continued, "And all because Miss Rhonda Lloyd decided to work the principal over and turn her against me!" And all because I hit her because I'm an awful person, she thought in despair.

"Well," Arnold started, "you did hit her."

Helga froze, then whirled on him, her eyes blazing. "Excuse me?"

Arnold sat on the arm of the chair, weighing both sides of the issue, then explained, "All I'm saying is that you were both in the wrong, and you both got in trouble. I'm not saying that what Rhonda did was okay, but you didn't have to stoop to her level by-"

"You think that setting me on fire comes anywhere close to punching her in the face?"

"I'm saying that you didn't need to try to get even," he retorted. "Why do you think she's so mad at you? What did she say?"

"I don't know! She said lots of things," Helga said. She crossed her arms, remembering every word as clear as day and how badly each one had stung.

"Like?" Arnold prodded.

Helga felt lost. "Like-like, I don't know, that I'm a bully and I had it coming," she said, feeling the hurt wash over her all over again. "And that I'm a skank and a slut for stealing Jake from her and you from Lila."

"So why would she care that you bullied her, Helga? Think! Do you think that maybe you hurt her feelings?"

Helga scoffed. "Rhonda doesn't have feelings."

"Just like you don't have feelings?" he asked, his voice solemn. She stayed silent. "Helga, have you ever stopped to think that everyone has insecurities?"

In truth, Helga hadn't thought about it. Rhonda carried herself like she didn't give a toss what anyone thought about her. She did and said what she wanted all the time. But why would she do all the things she did in order to be popular? Why would she be mad at Helga unless she did care what Helga had said to her growing up?

She looked at Arnold in astonishment, but when her eyes met his understanding ones she had another realization.

"Are you insecure about things, too?" she asked.

He sighed and looked away. "I mean, sometimes. Knowing people talk about my masculinity behind my back, it bothers me, and makes me question myself."

She winced. She didn't want to ask the next question, but needed to know. "Did-did I ever make you question yourself?"

He stood up and looked at her with tenderness. "If you did, Helga, it's only because I cared what you thought of me, even back then." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and she cupped her hand over his, letting it cradle her face.

Helga looked into his eyes, full of warmth and compassion. How, after all these years, after all that she'd put him through, could he look at her with such love? She thought back to what he'd written in his essay, about how she wrote about the kind of love she wanted, even if she didn't think she deserved it sometimes. It was true, she didn't feel like she deserved his kindness and understanding. But she wanted to say all the things to him that would make her feel like she deserved it a little bit more, even if it took a lifetime to do. She wanted to say all the things she wrote about him because he deserved the same level of kindness he'd always shown her, since the very first time they'd met and he'd held an umbrella over her.

She took a deep breath. "A-Arnold, when we were kids, everything I said, everything I did, I...I'm so sorry, for all of it. Even if it was all to hide how much I adored you, it's no excuse."

"Helga," he said, "I forgave you a long time ago. I love you." He pulled her close, holding her as if she were someone precious.

"I love you, too." She sighed. This is what it's like to be loved, she thought, like home is in his arms.

She melted into the safety of his arms for a moment, forgetting all her problems and insecurities. She just let herself be held by someone who cared about her and cared about doing the right thing, and how both made her want to be better than she'd ever been.

The image of Rhonda Lloyd floated through her head and she sighed in irritation. But still, she didn't have to enjoy doing the right thing as much as he did. She stepped back and put her hands on her hips. "So what now, Mr. goody-two-shoes?"

Arnold broke into his good-natured smile. "Well, I have an idea, but you're not gonna like it." Without even hearing it, Helga knew he'd be right.