Did you know Hillwood is getting a CLUB?
Not like some hot shot, big dance hall club, but that duplex over across the street from the movie theater that Arnold mentioned to me a THOUSAND years ago (okay, it was in the summer, but, WHATEVER), I guess it's just been sitting there waiting to announce what the owners bought it for and—word on the street—it's gonna be some club for teenagers.
Part of me thinks that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard of.
Another part of me is actually excited to have a place where we can all go to hang out. I mean, as a kid that used to be Gerald Field but these days the field has been passed on to the NEXT generation of elementary kids and all of us have like… nothing else to do or place to go.
Unless it's one of Rhonda's 'soirees' which, to be honest, I'm getting pretty sick of, but I guess I should be happy that I keep getting invited. She's been acting really… WEIRD lately, and not her normal hoity-toity 'holier than thou' routine, she's just really started to dive right into that bitchy Queen of the popular kids act.
While I'm not surprised, I AM a little annoyed. There always used to be SOME fragment of humanity left underneath her name-brand clothing and accessories, but these days… it's getting harder to find.
I've already lost my bet to Geraldo though about the new girl, by the way. Somehow, Addie has managed to stay in Rhonda's group of loyal followers for a solid TWO MONTHS now, which has thrown all of us completely off-guard. I mean, here we are, going into November, and she is STILL hanging by Nadine's side putting up with Rhonda's endless demands and constant 'photo ops' that flood everyone's CamGram feed.
Instead of paying Tall Hair Boy though, I just used my allowance to pick up the bill at our last double date with him and Phoebe. You know—our double date that wasn't a double date but was DEFINITELY a double date.
Having no labels in a relationship is complicated.
Anyway, as PART of our mutual decision to keep our relationship label-less, Arnold and I are opting out of the winter school dance that Rhonda has cleverly coined 'The Snow Ball.' Instead, we decided that hanging out at the boarding house doing whatever it is that people do for fun during the winter would be a better idea than attending some dance together again.
Which, honestly, has alleviated a LOT of the anxiety I'd been feeling since they announced the dumb dance a couple days ago. Maybe it's some form of PTSD or something, but the thought of going to another school dance just brings up all the memories of the LAST one we went to and the disasters that followed.
Needless to say, I think I'm almost… excited to have some night in at the boarding house. It sure beats hanging out HERE with Miriam and Olga, although—I gotta give my mom credit, she has been an absolute CHAMP through this whole divorce thing. Mostly because of Olga, but hey—I'll take what I can get.
Those two have become HEALTH NUTS and are DRAGGING me along with them.
Every morning they wake up at the crack-of-dawn to go for their 'Early Morning Run' and then I guess they stop somewhere, and Olga leads mom in some weird meditating thing. I don't know. Miriam seems to be taking comfort in it though. And with all of her health mumbo-jumbo, she's been making smoothies again.
Only THIS time… they're legit smoothies. No 'special ingredients' included.
I don't know. I guess I'm pleasantly surprised and proud, maybe? Olga living here seemed like it could be disastrous, but I guess it's just Bob being gone that was the element we needed out of the picture to begin functioning as a relatively normal family.
I think I like it.
BUT, because I'm still a moody, broody teenager, I can't actually ADMIT that I like it, so I'll just secretly write about it here where nobody can find out that life has been pretty okay and I feel optimistic about things for the first time in what's felt like years.
I told you that 8th grade would be my best year yet.
~Helga
Well Journal, I just got back from the ER.
Yes, I'm fine.
No, Miriam didn't do something crazy and nobody got into a car crash or is dying or anything.
Arnold's Grandma, Gertie, just HAPPENED to break her hip.
Let me explain.
The night started innocently enough. I'd gone to Arnold's house as planned for our anti-school-dance night—
"How did my cookies turn out so… bad?" I asked aloud while looking at the snowmen that had dents and creases that I hadn't intended on making before we'd put them in the oven to bake.
"Who cares what they look like as long as they taste good, am I right?" Miles chuckled from where he sat at the kitchen table assisting Arnold with decorating his batch of cookies. After he said this, he took a bite from the snowman he'd been frosting before giving a satisfied nod as he chewed. "And they taste good."
"Honey," Stella scolded from where she stood at the oven to bring my batch of cookies to the table that I sat down at to begin my own decorating, "if you eat all of the cookies then we won't have any left to decorate."
"I'm decorating them," he countered with a half-smile that Helga had seen many times before from his son, "I'm just also indulging in a bite or two along the way."
"But we don't want your germs, Miles," Helga explained with a raise of her brow. "Who wants to eat decorated half-eaten cookies?"
"She has a point, dad," Arnold agreed while picking up one of the cookies to begin frosting.
"You know what I think?" He soon asked while looking between the two teenagers, "I think you two have lost your childlike spirit and wonder. Frankly, I'm a little insulted that you aren't the ones getting lectured about eating too many cookies." Taking another bite of the cookie he'd began, he then added, "It's official, Stell—we've lost the kids to the dark side."
Laughing at his comment, Stella took her seat beside Helga to help with decorations. "The dark side?"
"Yeah," he confirmed before taking the final bite of the snowman he'd started consuming moments earlier. "Teenagehood. It's a disease."
"Ever the dramatic, aren't we, honey?" She replied with a smirk of her own while picking up a cookie to paint with white icing. Changing the subject, she turned to look at Helga who was still staring downwards at her tray of misshapen snowmen. "Don't worry about the cookies, Helga. Maybe you can make them have a theme with their little dents."
"A theme," she repeated while scrunching her brow together in concentration. "Yeah… this one kind of looks like he's been stabbed—" she explained while pointing to one of the snowmen with a significant dent where its heart should be. "And this one kinda looks like it has a big gash across it's stomach."
"Well…" Stella dragged out the word before Helga cut her off in an excited voice.
"I'm going to make them all murder victims," she declared triumphantly. "And this guy—" she said while picking up the lone snowmen who looked normal "—this guy's gonna be the murderer."
"That's awfully morbid, Helga, don't you think?" Stella asked with worry, though Arnold was quick to dismiss his mother's concern.
"Helga watches a lot of crime shows, Mom," he told her with a shrug. "What do you call that channel again?" he asked the blonde girl who smiled happily in his direction.
"The murder channel. It was basically the only thing Bob and I used to watch together when we 'bonded,'" she said nonchalantly. "Guess the habit kind of stuck even after he ditched."
"And Miriam lets you watch that kind of thing?" Arnold's mother wondered with a disapproving shake of her head. "It seems…so violent for a kid—teenager or not."
"Relax, Stell," Miles said while sneaking another bite of a cookie he hadn't even begun to frost yet. "There's way more violent things out there than some crime shows. You and I both know that from experience."
"I guess you're right," she murmured while glancing up from the cookie she'd been focusing on only to frown and shoot an annoyed look in her husband's direction. "A perfect example is what I'll do to you if you eat all of these cookies before we can share them with the rest of the boarders."
"What?" Miles half-defended himself while chewing. "You think Oskar won't get here first and demolish all the cookies before anyone else?"
"That's not fair, dad," Arnold said in a somber tone. "You know he's been having a tough time since Susie left."
"Wait—Susie left?" Helga questioned in utter shock. "When did that happen? Why didn't I know that?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Arnold reached for blue sprinkles he back shaking onto his freshly-frosted snowman. "It's been a while, Helga. I thought you knew that when you came to family dinner."
"How was I supposed to know?" She shot back defensively. "I just thought she was busy or something, I don't know."
"I mean, it kind of was a matter of time," Miles muttered while fixating his attention on painting another cookie with white icing.
Stella huffed while shaking her head. "We shouldn't be gossiping like this," she announced in a hushed tone before raising her voice to a normal volume. "Everyone has their own problems, and we should support each other. Speaking of which," she soon transitioned to glance in Helga's direction, "how have things been at home since Olga's return? Has she been helping your mother?"
"Surprisingly, yes," she answered while staring down at the snowman she'd decided had been stabbed and began flooding the small dent in its chest with red icing. "I mean, I guess it's not that surprising given Olga is the perfect daughter and all that, but I'm glad it's been helping Miriam. Who knew that actual smoothies and exercise was her magic remedy to addiction?"
We were decorating cookies (which, by the way, mine turned out THE BEST because they were by FAR the most creative, but I digress) and Miles and Stella were helping us out because it probably isn't the best idea in the world to leave two teenagers alone in a kitchen with a hot stove… but ANYWAY, while Arnold and I were cleaning up—Stella chastising Miles for consistently eating the cookies he swore he'd save for the other boarders—we noticed out the window that it was snowing.
Like… SNOWING, snowing.
"Well, would you look at that," Helga muttered while drying a dish absentmindedly; her eyes transfixed outside the window just ahead of where she stood at the sink. "Maybe we'll have a White Christmas after all."
"Huh?" Miles asked while standing from his spot to wander towards the window and take a look for himself. "Wow. It is snowing."
"Hopefully Pheebs and Gerald won't have to walk in that on the way home from the dance," Helga stated, though Arnold was quick to chime in.
"They didn't go to the dance, Helga," he said calmly. "They decided to go out on a date by themselves or something."
"Really?" She asked in disbelief. "That's really weird… Phoebe's been acting so weird lately with going places…" After her comment, Helga's eyes returned out to the window. "It's a good snow. Thick. I bet it'll accumulate fast."
"You know what that means, Balto and Togo," Arnold's grandmother blast into the conversation; all eyes turning to see her standing in the doorway already wearing her winter gear. "It's time to confront the snow and have a wintry adventure."
"Mom," Miles deadpanned while putting his hands on his hips. "It was just raining outside a few hours ago. Surely, it's all ice underneath whatever snow is coming down."
"All the more reason for a luge!" She declared.
"Gertie, are you sure it's wise to luge in the streets?" Stella asked; Arnold's Grandfather soon entering the conversation as he made his way to the fridge.
"No sense in stopping her, you two," Phil muttered before his eyes caught sight of the freshly frosted cookies still on the dining room table.
Turning to give his father a glare, Miles quickly warned, "Don't even think about it, dad. You know what the doctor said at your last check-up—"
"Aren't you one to talk, Mr. Shortman," Stella countered with a half-grin. "Go ahead, Phil. One cookie compared to your son's seven won't do you much harm."
"It was five, Stell," he insisted while holding up his hand with splayed fingers for each cookie he claimed to have consumed. "Five."
"Well, in five minutes, this bobsled is taking off with or without her loyal companions," Grandma announced. "And word on the street is that there's enough snow outside for a rousing snowball fight should you decide to brace the arctic tundra."
"A snowball fight?" Both Arnold and Helga repeated in excited unison before turning to look at Arnold's parents for their blessing.
"C'mon mom, dad, please?" Arnold begged as Helga added to their plight with some pleading of her own.
"Yeah, it'll be fun. You oldsters can even come join us," she teased with a sparkle in her eye. "That is… if you aren't afraid of being utterly obliterated by a few fluffy little snowballs—"
"Let me stop you right there," Miles countered with a narrow of his eyes. "We may have spent our fair share in the jungle, but we are perfectly capable of dominating you kids in a snowball fight."
"Miles…" Stella scolded in a fashion that Helga was used to hearing from Arnold himself.
"Stella. It's one snowball fight. What's the worst that could happen?"
So, with Gertie's encouragement, we got ourselves all decked out in our boots, coats, mittens, hats, and snow pants (though I had to borrow a pair since mine were at home) then took off for the snowy winter night in the streets of Hillwood.
It was a relatively quiet night—probably because like Miles had pointed out earlier, it had rained which consequently froze to make a nice little ice rink underneath the freshly fallen snow. While Phil opted out of joining in on the fun, he watched safely from the sidelines to chime in commentary as the fight progressed. As for the rest of us, me, Arnold, and Gertie took on Miles and Stella in a snowball match that would surely be remembered for ages by all—and not necessarily for the match itself.
Despite the outcome none of us had foreseen, we enjoyed ourselves at first. We hid like stealthy ninjas behind the stoop and threw our meticulously crafted snowballs at the other team. We strategized together in huddles before following through with expert plays to storm Arnold's parents in our pursuit of a glorious win.
Not that anyone was keeping score.
And besides, how DO you even keep score in a snowball fight, anyway?
"Suweeee-doggy!" Gertie hollered with a whip of her snowball in her son's direction. "You snow bandits are no match for our snowball-slinging!"
"Ma," Miles hollered out before ducking away from the snow she'd just chucked his way, "I'm pretty sure there aren't cowboys in the arctic."
"You bet your bottom dollar there are!" she argued with a glimmer in her gaze as she moved to hide herself behind the concrete of the stoop. "And they've the fastest snow-toting this side of the ee-quator!" With that, her hand stuck itself out and directed with two fingers towards Arnold and Helga who were currently making snowballs by the masses from around the alleyway.
"Mush, my lil' doggies—mush!" she shouted, and the two teens emerged to begin pelting the unsuspecting Shortmans with their seemingly infinite pile of snowballs.
"Mercy! Mercy!" Miles hollered while covering his face with his arms. "We surrender already!" He laughed out; Stella too giggling at the circumstance they found themselves trapped in. Through the chaos and laughter, it was no wonder that it took a moment before anyone realized the scream that they had heard hadn't been one from glee or excitement.
It had been a scream of pain.
Just as it seemed we were 'winning' (whatever that looks like), this loud shriek rang out but none of us really registered what had happened until Phil started down the stoop steps in the direction of where Gertie had previously been.
"Pookie!" Phil shouted while wobbling his way to where his wife lay now-groaning in agony. "Pookie, what did you go and do?"
Turns out, she'd slipped on some of that ice we'd been warned about and landed right on her butt which effectively destroyed her hip from the inside out.
Rushing to her side, Stella began to feverishly reach for her to keep her as motionless as possible. "Gertie. Gertie, you have to stay still for me, okay?" She told her mother-in-law calmly with a firm nod before turning to shout at her husband. "Go call 911! Now!"
Immediately following his wife's orders, Miles turned to slip and slide his way in the direction of the front door. As he opened it and a rush of animals left the entryway, Miles' voice could be heard as he shouted for the phone and that Gertie was hurt.
I felt so bad for Arnold. I could tell that he was really scared, heck, we ALL were. Despite all the pain she was in though, Gertie managed to keep her relatively high spirits.
Might've been the shock though.
When the paramedics had successfully loaded the old woman onto the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance, Gertie raised her head minimally to look at her grandson and offer him a wink. "Don't worry, Tex," she called out to him before the doors could shut her and Phil away for their journey to the emergency room. "This won't be my last rodeo."
After they took her away to the hospital, all of us jumped in the Packard as Stella took charge of driving behind the ambulance. It was clear that Miles wanted to, but the poor guy was in his OWN state of shock and it made more sense for Stella to do the driving.
But Arnold… my sweet, kind-hearted football-head… he was silent the whole ride.
In fact, the kid was silent nearly the rest of the night.
I was sure that there were plenty of thoughts roaming around his enormous head. As he kept himself lost in thought, I held his hand tightly as though to tether him to reality. He never let go or loosened his grip which told me that while he wasn't speaking much, my presence was appreciated. Obviously, he was worried like all of us were because even though she ACTED like a young and sprightly woman, her spirit was trapped in that of an old body.
An old and FRAGILE body that could, apparently, be easily broken.
And Arnold's not dumb. None of us are. We all silently knew that broken hips can be death sentences for someone her age. I mean sure, death was inevitable and inescapable at the end of the day, but Gertie could fight through something as simple as a broken hip, right?
The doctor approached the large group of Sunset Arms boarders plus Helga who all looked anxiously in his direction. While each one of their hearts was pounding against their chest awaiting the smallest hint that the beloved Gertie was going to be okay, the doctor's face gave away the truth before he could speak.
Right. Because she did. Well, so far, anyway.
"Your Gertie is a tough old bird," he said with a smile as the mishmashed family collectively sighed in relief. "That being said, she's not out of the clear quite yet."
Standing from his spot, Miles took a few steps towards the doctor; Stella's hand drifting from his shoulder to let him go. "She's okay though, right? For now?"
"For now, yes," he confirmed with a nervous nod. "Although, I'll be candid with you—most cases involving those over the age of 60 are five-to-eight times more likely to die within the first three months after a break like hers."
"But not everyone," Arnold mumbled from where he sat quietly beside Helga. Raising his oblong head up to look at the doctor, his stated firmly, "Not everyone dies."
"No," he agreed, "not everyone her age dies." The doctor's eyes drifted from the frightened teenager to continue addressing the adults in the room who were desperate for more information. "However, the next year in particular is going to be critical in terms of her recovery. She'll need regular physical therapy to help get her back on her feet and, unfortunately, I don't think she should walk without the assistance of a walker."
"Well, that's not gonna go over great," Miles mumbled with a shake of his head before turning to look at Phil. "Think you can convince her to comply?"
"Oh, I don't know, son," he said with a sad sigh. "You know your mother. She's stubborn as a mule. If Pookie wants to do something, nothing can stop her. You do remember our vacation to Pigeon Forge when you were twelve, don't ya?"
Curious eyes glanced to look at Miles who let out a humorless laugh at the memory his father was referencing. "Yeah. Yeah, you got a point." He said before turning to address everyone who sat in the waiting room with concern for Gertie. "We're going to have to be tough with her, okay? She's not going to want to follow the rules or take it careful but… but we have to make sure she does. Alright?"
The boarders and Arnold nodded their heads as Helga watched them all silently from where she sat.
"That means everyone needs to start pitching in a little more," Stella continued, her eyes narrowing on Oskar. "Got it?"
"What?" Oskar whined with a shrug of his shoulders. "I can help. I help all the time."
"Yeah," Ernie murmured in irritation, "help clean out the fridge…"
Ignoring their comments, Arnold's hand let go from Helga's as he stood to face the doctor with tears welled in his eyes. "Can we… can we go see her yet?"
After a while, we were allowed in to go see her, but only a few of us at a time because her room was small, and we didn't want to overwhelm her. It was weird to see someone as lively as Arnold's Grandma stuck in a hospital bed with tubes attached all over her and whatnot.
Even though she was under some pretty strong meds and was probably in quite a bit of pain, she seemed in relatively high spirits and positive despite her condition.
Poor Arnold, though. He was almost more worried than his own parents or his GRANDPA, even. Probably because, even though he loves his parents and all, he's never known a moment of his life without having his Grandpa and Grandma around.
Biologically, Gertie was his Grandmother. But to him, she probably felt more like a mother. The kid has like… TWO moms and TWO dads and I've got…
Well. You KNOW what I've got. But this isn't about me, right now, for cripes sake. This isn't ABOUT you, Helga. This is about GERTIE and ARNOLD and how you're going to do WHATEVER YOU CAN to be there for that family. After all, they've been more of a family to you than nearly anyone else has. It'll be difficult to keep Gertie up to her new rules and exercises, but I already volunteered to help out as much as I can.
Besides. I've always liked Gertie. And it'll be nice to get to know her a little better. Plus—it'll take a bit of stress from Arnold and his family for having to care for her all the time.
AND it's an extra added distraction from the Olga and Miriam health show in the Pataki home so….
I don't know. It's been a day. I'm tired and I have nothing witty left to say except, 'call me caretaker.'
~Helga
For the next few weeks, Helga found herself at the Sunset Arms more often than not. While Olga remained at home ever diligent in keeping their mother away from temptation, she encouraged her younger sister to see the boy she knew meant the world to her.
Little did Olga know that Helga wasn't necessarily going to the boarding house just to hang out with Arnold. In fact, much of the time she spent there was yes, around Arnold, but also spent with his grandmother, Gertie.
"C'mon, Grandma, you know what the doctor said," Arnold urged while going to Gertie's side in an effort to keep her laying flat on the bed. "What do you need? Helga or I can get it for you."
"Speak for yourself, Hair Boy," Helga muttered with a sly upturn of her lips that Gertie was quick to pick up on.
"I like this one, Kimba," she declared while pointing ahead where Helga stood. "She's got fire."
Letting out a smirk as he reached behind her to adjust the pillow so Gertie could sit upwards, Arnold replied with a slight shake of his head. "You have no idea…"
"Hey!" Helga exclaimed before moving to stand at the other side of the bed; just opposite of where Arnold stood. "You know I'm standing right here for cripes sake."
Glancing up at her with a wicked grin, Arnold merely shrugged his shoulders. "Like you don't know how dramatic you are."
"Dramatic?" she repeated before scoffing in disagreement. "Please. I'm not dramatic—"
"Well, I certainly am!" Gertie piped up while inching herself up to a more seated position; a grimace lining her face as she did so.
Softly, Arnold tried to oppose her statement. "You aren't dramatic, Grandma, you're just—"
"She's a crazy old coot, that's what she is," Grandpa Phil's voice cheerfully resounded from the doorway behind them and both teenagers turned to look where he stood. "Adorable as heck, but wild and ferocious and—"
"She's not some wild animal, Grandpa," Arnold countered, though Gertie seemed to be offended.
"According to who?" She asked him pointedly. "I might rip the organs from human vessels with my teeth and keep them hidden away in the closet for safekeeping."
"Pookie, don't go scaring the kids with your nonsense," Grandpa scolded as he further entered the room and began making his way to their shared closet. "You know what she's referring to, don't you, Shortman?"
"Wait," Helga said while holding both of her hands in front of her as if to stop everyone from continuing. "You mean to say that she does have someone's organs in your closet?" The words came out with a sense of amazement mixed with admiration, and Arnold rolled his eyes.
"Go look for yourself!" Gertie instructed with a beam and the young blonde turned around to join Arnold's grandfather by the closet doors.
Looking inside the dark hole in the wall filled with clothing and shoes, Helga looked to and fro before frowning, crossing her arms, and turning to glare in Phil's direction. "What gives? I don't see anybody's organs."
"Then you're not looking hard enough!" He laughed out before reaching a shaky arm inside to a hidden shelf at the back of the closet. Pulling out from the darkness, he presented a small glass container with what looked like a giant rock held inside.
"What the heck is that?" Helga asked while taking the surgical cup from the old man's hand.
Crossing his arms, Phil smirked as he watched the girl carefully inspect the treasure she held. "Gallbladder."
"A Gallbladder?" She repeated while looking up with a blank expression. "This is just a lame stinkin' gallbladder?"
"It's my lame stinkin' gallbladder," Gertie re-iterated while gesturing for Helga to toss the jar in her direction. Rather than doing so, she simply walked to her bed side and handed it her way.
"Here I was hoping you had someone's kidney in there or something," Helga muttered with a defeated sigh. "I'd hardly call a gallbladder an organ."
"Well, she didn't exactly rip it out of anybody with her teeth either," Phil noted while moving to stand behind and place a hand on his grandson's shoulders.
"I didn't need to," Gertie argued with a smile. "I hired a doctor."
"You didn't hire a doctor, Pookie," her husband continued. "You went in with pain, they did a bunch of tests, you had gallstones, and they took your gallbladder out. That should have been the end of it."
Helga and Arnold looked between one another before both turning to glance in Gertie's direction as she stared down at her seemingly prized possession. "Should have been?" Arnold asked; a small hint that spoke for both himself and his guest who were desperate to know the story that was surely coming.
"Pop a squat you two," Phil announced as the two teens sat at the end of either side of the bed Gertie lay on, "and I'll tell you the story of how this one held her own gallbladder hostage before we got kicked out of the hospital."
Leaning towards Arnold, Gertie whispered, "It's why I had to have your father in the next town over," she told him with a gratified gesture of her head that he chuckled at.
"Sounds like quite the story!" Arnold exclaimed—and it was just one of many she told the two from her bed, though she took particular interest in Helga.
Gertie is one CRAZY lady.
But like… in the BEST SENSE of the word. She's a GOOD crazy.
These last few weeks have been a RIOT helping Arnold take care of his grandma. I've always known she was a little zany, but the STORIES that woman has?
I mean, I don't know if they're all real or anything, but if they ARE? That woman is my HERO.
"You did not!" Helga uttered in disbelief mixed with laughter.
"I most certainly did!" Gertie re-iterated with a proud nod. "Why, I marched up those steps at the capital with my sign and I headed the charge! What did I have to lose?"
"Oh, I don't know," Helga muttered halfheartedly, "your freedom? Didn't they lock you up for that?"
"Obviously," she said with heavy enthusiasm followed by a shrug of her shoulders. "Poor Phil. It was the fifth time that month he had to bail me out. I'm sure he had half a mind to leave me in there for a night or two, but…" her sentence trailed off and she shrugged once again.
"But what?" the young blonde wondered with a tilt of her head as she stood up from the side of the bed she'd been previously sitting on.
"Lemme tell ya something, toots," Gertie began while shimmying herself up to a better seated position "anyone who is crazy enough to stick around when you out crazy them is worth their weight in gold. And more."
"Yeah…" Helga partially agreed, though Gertie soon cut her off.
"Now you listen here, Eleanor," she referred to Helga by the affectionate nickname the teen had come to love, "Phil spent more money bailing me out of jail for protesting, indecent exposure—but hey, it was the sixties—I mean, that man went above and beyond the call of a husband. You know why?"
"Because he loves you?" She guessed, though to her surprise, Gertie began shaking her head, then paused.
"Well, yes, but that's not why he did it," she stated before taking in a deep breath and starting again. "It's because we're partners."
"Huh?"
"Partners, you know?" She repeated. "First partners in school, though ol' Chin Boy wasn't a big fan of it at the time," the old woman chuckled with a shake of her head. "Partners in dancing and if Phil wasn't just the most wonderful dancer. He swept me off my feet and together, we were the dance partners every couple envied on the dancefloor."
Though she tried to hide it, Helga's lips pulled themselves up into a soft smile as she listened to Gertie's memories that were now being recalled more for herself than for Helga's sake.
"Partners when we went bungee-jumping and I had to practically push the man off the cliff, but you only live once, ya know?" She laughed at this for a long while; whatever memory she was remembering one that illustrated itself across her vision like a movie being played for a captive audience. After a minute, Gertie turned to address Helga once more.
"We've been partners in every way two people can be partners," she continued in a softer, more gentle tone. "I've been lucky enough to have Phil as my partner for nearly my entire life. Partners in marriage. Partners in crime—"
"Alright now, Pookie," Grandpa interrupted as he and Arnold returned to the room with a tray of food that Stella had prepared for the broken woman lying in the bed. "Would you quit gushing to the girl, already? She's never going to come back if you keep telling her about our secret criminal past." There was a glint in his eye that hinted at humor, and Gertie was quick to maintain the inside joke.
"Don't you worry, Soaring Falcon," she addressed him with a wink and a double tap of her index finger on the side of her nose, "They'd have to starve and torture me before Wide-Eyed Panther gave away all of her secrets."
"Uh-huh," Phil deadpanned though it was clear he was enjoying their coded conversation. "Well nobody's starving you anytime soon, Pookie. Stella made some funky stew for ya." Slowly, Phil made his way to her with a tray that had been carefully put together with food, drink and silverware. Once he was at her side, he turned to look over his shoulder and told the two blondes staring back at him, "Why don't you and Shortman here get some grub before Oskar eats it all, hmm?"
It's funny though, Gertie. She only tells me stories when it's just the two of us. And when I mention what she told me to Arnold, he almost seems sad that she had never told HIM.
Like, what is THAT all about? She doesn't know me from anybody and she's telling me her life story and going on and on about her and Phil. Don't get me wrong—I'm HONORED that the lady is telling me all this junk, especially since I've never particularly had that with any member of my OWN family, I just don't see what her fascination is with me.
Maybe it's a girl thing. Maybe it's because she sees some of herself in me or something.
Whatever it is, helping out with Gertie as she recovers has been more than rewarding. In addition to all the extra time I get to spend with Arnold, every day I spend in his company at the boarding house feels more and more natural. It's like all of the issues we've had before have disappeared and it all feels so… RIGHT, you know?
Criminy, listen to me talking like some lovestruck heroine in a lame rom-com. We aren't even TOGETHER together. Sometimes I wish we HAD decided to put a label on us, but the more I think about it, the more it really doesn't matter.
Anyway, next week is the start of a new year—officially. Miles suggested having a New Years Eve party on the roof with all our classmates. So, in our spare time, Arnold and I have been making plans for that. The goal is to make it NOTHING like a Wellington-Lloyd party.
At least, that's MY goal, anyway.
No drama. No stupid party games that CAUSE drama. Just all of us getting together like we used to and having a good time. I'm pretty excited, believe it or not.
That's right, Helga G. Pataki is excited for a PARTY.
But it isn't just some party to me. The new year symbolizes so many things for me personally, when I think about it—not just me and Arnold wise, but even at home with Miriam and all that. After the new year hits, their divorce will be finalized and that means our family dynamic will OFFICIALLY have been re-routed.
Sometimes I wonder if it'll feel that different, Bob being out of the picture and all. I mean, I'm still going to have to see him and all that, but he's been absent for so long, I don't know what it'll feel like for him to go off and have some new life away from us.
Olga's optimistic, which figures. She feels that this is a good thing and that it'll give our mom the chance she's needed to 'spread her wings and fly' or whatever it is she said. And while I agree in a sense, I'm also maybe, perhaps, a little… TINY bit scared.
Yeah, yeah. I'm SCARED, alright?
Who KNOWS what this new future is going to be like? This is uncharted territory. It feels like EVERYTHING is changing, but I suppose that's the epitome of growing up and all.
I gotta head to Arnold's here in a bit, though, So I'll write later if I'm feeling up to it. These days, I just like enjoying the day rather than recounting it in this book. But if I know me—and I do—one day I'll want to look back and read these dumb ramblings from my teenage self and reminisce or something.
At least, that's what Gertie and Miles and practically EVERYONE who's old and knows that I'm journaling tells me.
Here's to change!
~Helga
Nearly everyone had shown up to the party atop the Sunset Arms boarding house. Helga and Arnold had spent practically the entire day decorating the roof and bringing sufficient snacks and equipment up to the heated tent that the Shortmans had opted to rent for the occasion.
After all, nobody would want to enjoy an outside roof-top party in below freezing temperatures.
As people began filling in the tent that boomed with music from Arnold's impressive Bluetooth speaker set-up, Helga looked around at the attendance of teenagers which surrounded them.
"Quite the turn out, eh football-head?" She asked with a proud smile and a crossing of her arms. "I'd say we've cracked the code on the perfect party."
"I don't know," Arnold replied before taking a sip of punch from his cup. "Dare we ask Rhonda?" He wondered with a half-lidded gaze in Helga's direction.
"As if she'd everadmit that someone besides herselfplanned a perfect party," she muttered with a smirk. "Like, I know that she's only here because she probably thought we'd fail or there would be some big dramatic display that she could gossip about next week, but so far so good, right?"
That Rhonda Wellington Lloyd.
Ooooh Journal, do I have things to say about Rhonda Wellington Lloyd.
"So far," Gerald interrupted with a grin as Arnold turned around to say hello by way of their childhood handshake. "Great party, man. You're doing fireworks tonight, right?"
"Shhh," he shushed his best friend, "it's supposed to be a surprise."
"Yeah," Helga added with a raise of her brow. "Gertie's got the hook-ups for some pretty sweet and illegal fireworks."
"Isn't she stuck in bed with her hip or something?" Gerald wondered as Arnold and Helga shook their heads simultaneously.
"Grandma has been really determined to get back to walking," he explained. "She'll be up here later on in the night, but she sent my dad to get the fireworks. Mom wasn't exactly… thrilled."
"Eh, that's moms for ya," Gerald noted while shrugging and letting out a deep breath.
The three watched their fellow classmates as they mingled about wearing silly hats and glasses displaying the new year over their eyes in cheap, sparkly plastic. Through the laughter and the shadows of bodies filling the tent, Helga noticed the absence of someone she had expected to be in Gerald's company.
"Hey, where's Pheebs?"
Continuing to look out passed his peers, Gerald swallowed almost nervously before saying cooly, "Home. Didn't feel like coming."
"What is with her lately?" Helga asked neither boy in particular. "She's been so anti-social since the beginning of the year, I mean. I call her, but she doesn't answer. I always figured it's cause she's with you but—"
"Oh no," Gerald quickly disagreed, "Phoebe and I don't exactly… hang out anymore."
Snapping their heads in shock, both Arnold and Helga stared at the tall-haired-boy whose gaze maintained blindly ahead.
"Gerald, did you…." Arnold started before clearing his throat and trying again. "Did you two break-up?"
"No way," Helga stated firmly with a shake of her head. "There's no way that you broke up because she would have told me—"
"We did though," Gerald mumbled. "Break up."
From just feet ahead of them, Rhonda caught wind of the two words that motivate middle school gossip most. Turning her head ever so slightly to try and eavesdrop on the conversation behind her, Nadine watched her friend with irritation from where she stood at her side with Addie to hers.
"Rhonda, what are you doing?" She asked, though she was quickly stopped.
"Shh. Shh-sh-sh," she shushed while holding up a perfectly manicured finger. "I'm listening to something rather important at the moment."
"But Addie was just telling us about her audition for this Summer's Street Dance—" Nadine urged, but was vehemently ignored.
"Nadine!" Rhonda snapped in a shout of a whisper. "Could you just be quiet for like… two seconds, already. I mean, no offense, Addison—"
"Addie," the brunette corrected though it went unnoticed.
"—but that is months away, okay?" Rhonda explained with a smug expression. "We need things to talk about that are happening now and break-up gossip is absolutely the kind of gossip a new year desperately needs."
They aren't GOOD things either.
In fact, I would go on to say that I actually have nothing BUT bad things to say about her, so let's start out with a few:
Rhonda Wellington Lloyd is a selfish, image-obsessed, narcissistic life-ruining gossipmonger and THIS time, believe it or not, I actually have NOTHING to do with what happened.
Tall Hair Boy can blame me ALL HE WANTS, but I couldn't care LESS what that dingus thinks. My main priority has nothing to do with him and EVERYTHING to do with the Princess.
NOBODY, and I mean NOBODY messes with my best friend. Especially that LEECH of a human being.
As Nadine stared at her friend in horror, across the way, Gerald nodded his head while the two teenaged blondes silently begged for more details.
Giving in to what he knew was coming, Gerald took a deep breath and began to expand on his previous sentence. "Yeah we uh," he breathed out in a loud huff, "well, Phoebe said that she wants to focus on her studies and all that." His head shook mildly as though he were toying with a thought lodged in his subconscious.
"Her studies," Helga deadpanned before frowning deeply. "I'm going to have to have a talk with that girl—"
"No, Helga," Gerald suddenly pleaded, his voice changing to one of desperation that took both herself and Arnold off-guard. "You can't say anything, okay? She…" he paused to look around himself as though to make sure nobody was listening—though he hadn't spotted Rhonda. "She's just really been stressed about other people or something."
"Other people?" Arnold repeated in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"It was that dumb CamGram account, man," he finally said in exhaustion. "I don't know what it did to her, but now she's all hyper-fixated on what everyone is thinking and saying about her. It's… it's paranoia is what it is."
Helga listened to the boy completely dumbfounded. Why didn't she tell me? She found herself wondering. She hadn't been actively trying to reach Phoebe over the last few weeks and soon felt a twinge of guilt at the realization that she'd abandoned her best friend for antics at the boarding house. Of course, she'd initially thought nothing of it because it seemed that Phoebe was equally busy with her own relationship.
Maybe she'd just been willingly blind to her friend's sudden paranoia.
Maybe she didn't want to deal with it.
Maybe she had just been being selfish in her happiness with Arnold.
As Helga chewed over these thoughts, Rhonda suppressed a gasp while turning to resume chatting with the girls who surrounded her. "Oh. My. God," she enunciated as one of her delicate hands came up to her mouth as if it could shield her surprise from her loyal disciples. "You will never believe what I just heard."
"Rhonda, it's none of our business," Nadine insisted while glancing between her friend and the sad boy she knew Rhonda was about to include in her rumormill.
"None of our business?" She repeated while glaring in her friend's direction. "Why, Nadine. As self-appointed relationship guru of the 8th grade, it is my duty to report the latest news on all relationship fronts."
"It really isn't, though" She argued with a furrow of her brow. "And, even if there was some kind of job like that, I doubt you'd be the one chosen for it."
"Oh really," Rhonda stated flatly. "And why do you say that?"
"Because…" Nadine started, though her body began to shake in anxiety at the argument she was engaging in. "Because you just… because… you tend to-to-to—"
"I tend to what, Nadine?" The dark-haired beauty took a menacing step in her direction as she towered over the girl in her high-heeled boots.
Sucking in a deep breath, Nadine prepared herself before finally saying, "You intentionally start things for the sake of attention and popularity and it's… it's sick, Rhonda, and I'm tired of it!"
Nadine's loud exclamation was overshadowed by the casual chatter of the party that unfurled around everyone. The tent was heated with false warmth and excitement as the clock neared the final few minutes before midnight approached and the new year began.
Clueless to what was happening at the other groups, Arnold and Helga continued to talk with Gerald who was becoming increasingly agitated—at Helga of all people.
"Why did you have to go and look at that stupid thing, huh?" He accused as Helga stepped back in surprise at his tone. "We all told you not to do it—"
"Listen here Geraldo," she immediately interjected, "I didn't do anything, alright? If she's all bent out of shape over some lame internet thing, you can't blame me for her reaction."
"Helga's right," Arnold defended while taking her hand in his. "They both looked at the account and Helga hasn't let what was on there get to her."
"You have got to be kidding me, Arnold!"
"You have got to be kidding me, Nadine!" Rhonda cried out in a half-laugh. "As if you don't participate—"
"I don't!" She exclaimed; a few sets of nearby eyes straying from their own conversations to watch Nadine and Rhonda's unfold. "In fact, I try with everything I have not to participate but you keep dragging me along—"
"Dragging you?"
"Yes, dragging me," Nadine repeated herself as words flurried out of her mouth without thought. "Dragging me along to go shopping and always trying to change the way I dress and act. Making me feel bad because I'm interested in things you aren't. Getting stupid jealous when I choose to hang out with someone else besides you. And all the while, all I ever, ever get to listen to is your lies and your gossip!"
"It's all just lies and gossip," Arnold maintained as Gerald's eyes narrowed to pinholes on his best friend. "You and I both know that. Besides, there were things written on our post too—"
"Not the same kinda stuff that was written on ours, man, and you know it," Gerald insisted with a huff. "That stuff… it really hurt her. And frankly—" his attention turned to Helga "—the fact that you haven't done or said anything or even noticed is pretty messed up, Pataki."
"I'm sorry," Helga apologized without sentiment, "because I'm supposed to be some kind of mind reader or something who knows what she's feeling every second of her life?"
"Well, you're her best friend, aren't you?" Gerald practically shouted.
"Nadine, I'm your best friend, aren't I?" Rhonda asked without a need for her answer. "That's what best friends do is talk and—"
"But it isn't just talk anymore, Rhonda, is it?" Nadine stated plainly while crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "You and that stupid account have turned talk into some kind of… popularity market or something. You're capitalizing on people's lives Rhonda, and that's not right!"
Helga's hands balled up into tight fists at her side in response to Gerald's insinuation. As he watched her grind her teeth while trying to think up a response, he simply added, "It's not right!"
"Gerald, c'mon…" Arnold tried to sooth his friend who was refusing to give in.
"Don't 'c'mon' me," he spat while taking a step away from him. "You're seriously gonna stand there and defend her over your best friend? I mean Arnold! You're gonna choose her over me?"
"That's not what this is about at all, Gerald," Arnold insisted.
"That's not what this is about at all, Nadine," Rhonda remarked with a small shake of her head. "Is it? What is it that's really bugging you, hmm? Because ever since Addison showed up, you've changed."
"It's ADDIE, Rhonda," Nadine corrected her. "AD-DEE. Addie. She's only told you a thousand times, and just because you think Addison sounds cooler, that's not what she wants to be called by, okay?"
"Nadine, it's fine," Addie murmured, though Nadine didn't even look in her direction.
"It absolutely is not okay, Ad," Nadine responded in a melancholy voice. "It's just… yet another way that Rhonda Wellington Lloyd controls everyone around her. She moves us like we're chess pieces and I'm not about to keep playing this dumb game! You need to respect people, Rhonda."
Swallowing hard, Gerald composed himself before saying his reply. "Arnold. That is what this is about. It's about the fact that you… me… we… we aren't the same anymore, man."
"Well, we're changing—"
"I know, and that's great, right?" He continued without leaving pause for an answer. "It's what we're supposed to do is change. I know that. But it's like… since you two got back together—"
"We're not together," Helga tried; Gerald pointing an angry finger in her direction.
"Cut the crap, Pataki," he ordered her. "You're together, okay? And that's great. I'm happy for you both."
"Doesn't seem like it," Arnold countered blankly.
Turning to look directly at his friend, Gerald sighed. "I just feel like I lost my best friend. And then, because your not-so-girlfriendHelga decided to go and be dramatic as usual—"
"Gerald!" Arnold tried to stop the train that was headed for the destruction of their friendship.
"—I've lost Phoebe too and now…" he huffed out an angry breath. "Mm mm MM. It's just all wrong!"
Rhonda's nose twitched as she watched Nadine breathe heavily from her outburst. After she'd cooled down a moment, she said in a soft yet somehow sinister voice, "You're all wrong, Nadine."
"I'm wrong, huh?" She shot back before letting out a small laugh. "Rhonda. You're all wrong. I don't even know who you are anymore but this-this… this thing you've become is not my best friend."
"Not your best friend?" Rhonda scoffed at the concept. "Please, Nadine. You owe me everything—"
"You see, that's the problem, Rhon," Nadine kept going. "You seem to think this whole world revolves around you and that you are responsible for everyone's success and life and—"
"What, you think you could have landed someone as cool as Carson without my help?" Rhonda argued which popped the balloon Nadine had been trying so hard to hold inside.
"Rhonda. I broke up with Carson. For God's sake, do you listen to anything I say?"
Both fights were taking place symbiotically as though they were mirror images of the other. The party goers had fallen all but silent as they frantically watched between both groups who were seemingly lost in their own worlds. The clock ticked on behind them. Five minutes to midnight, and yet all eyes were on either Rhonda or Gerald.
"You what," Rhonda practically spit the words through clenched teeth.
"I broke up with him, okay?" She announced again before turning around to address the growing audience that watched them, "Did everybody hear that? Carson and I broke up!"
At Nadine's declaration, Gerald, Arnold, and Helga turned to look at what had been happening just under their noses.
"Nadine," Rhonda said with a shake of her head. "You wouldn't."
"Yeah, well I did," she insisted before shrugging her shoulders and shoving her hands into the side pockets of the overalls that she wore. "So, how about you put that on your stupid ship or dip account and just… just leave everyone else alone already."
Turning around, she exited; Addie soon following her and calling out her name. The slam of the rooftop door told everyone left inside of the tent that the two girls had successfully made their escape. Moments later, Stella and Miles appeared with trays lined with plastic champagne glasses that were filled with sparkling apple cider.
As they entered the now-silent tent, both parents looked at one another before looking back out to the crowd of teens. "We didn't miss the big moment, did we?" Miles asked with an awkward laugh, though nobody responded.
Soft murmurs began to be exchanged as Miles and Stella maneuvered their way to the table Helga and Arnold had lined with snacks earlier that day. As they set the trays of drinks down, Stella took it upon herself to go to her son who was standing dumbfounded between Helga and Gerald who both wore angry expressions.
"Honey," Stella called out to him as he turned to look her way. "Everything okay?"
"I don't know," Arnold answered before glancing in Gerald's direction to pose his friend the same question. "Is it?"
Both Shortmans watched as Gerald and Helga glared at one another for a prolonged moment. After a beat, Gerald sighed and broke the eye contact he was holding to look at his friend with a sad expression.
"Yeah, man," he mumbled. "You and me, we're fine." His eyes drifted back over to Helga. "But think about what I said, okay?" He told Arnold while maintaining his gaze on Helga. "I'm uh… I'm gonna head out."
"But it isn't midnight yet," Stella tried clueless as to the situation she'd walked into.
"I just…" he began before sucking in a deep breath and shaking his head as he let it out slowly. "I think I just wanna head home for the night. I'm pretty tired. Thanks for the party, Mrs. S."
With a nod, Gerald followed in the footsteps of Nadine and Addie as he too left the tent that had hesitantly began filling with mindless conversation once more.
Silence settled between Stella, her son and Helga as none of the three knew what to say next. Taking this as a sign, the mother offered a sad smile before quietly excusing herself. "Well, I'll uh… We'll leave you kids be for the big moment. Let us know if you need anything."
But there was too much to ask for and no way to give what the teenagers needed.
Arnold felt as though he'd betrayed his best friend somehow as Helga felt the same for hers. The couple felt a tension between them that they'd never experienced before—one that could only be described as a scale that could not be equalized. Something was brewing and while neither Helga nor Arnold could figure out how to fix it, they both feared that Arnold would have to make a decision soon and the outcome would prove detrimental to their budding relationship.
Across the way, Rhonda tried to maintain her composure as her mind spun with equally conflicted thoughts. Part of her wanted to immediately post the meanest things she could about Nadine on her CamGram account. Another piece of her scoffed at that thought—her conscience admitting how right her best friend had been about the high she received when outing other people and gaining notoriety on their lives. She didn't want to admit that she'd been wrong, though. That's not what popular people do. It appeared that Rhonda too had a choice to make and the choice would cost her the attention she'd worked so hard to cultivate or the best friend she'd known nearly her entire life.
The air in the tent was stale for the three teenagers as the party continued around them. They went through the motions as they counted down the new year and cheered at its arrival. As the party ended and the party broke, Helga and Arnold found themselves suddenly alone in the heated tent.
"So much for the perfect party," Helga muttered as she helped Arnold pick up the trash that littered the ground beneath them.
"It wasn't so bad," Arnold managed, though inwardly he knew what he'd said was a lie. It was bad—both he and Helga knew it.
Yet, despite their mutual knowledge of just how bad the party had gone, neither admitted it to the other. They continued to quietly clean up after the party. Just as they were about to head downstairs and abandon the roof altogether, Miles charged up the steps and burst through the door.
"The fireworks!" He yelled before looking around at the empty roof and seeing only his son and Helga. Letting out a disappointed sigh, he said, "We forgot to let off the fireworks… I'm so sorry, Arnold."
"It's alright," he said with a shrug. He knew that a few fireworks wouldn't fix the night that he'd experienced.
"Tell you what," Miles went on with determination, "Let me go grab the boarders, and we'll let them off just for us, huh? Whattya say?"
"No, dad it's—" Arnold tried, though his father had already left in pursuit of his new plan.
And so, fireworks were let off in the air as Helga and Arnold blankly watched the colors sparkle above them and the boarders oohed and ahhed in the background. Each pop of the display felt like a shot of Novocain to the teens who were feeling more numb as the night waged on.
Gerald could hear the fireworks as he walked home, though he didn't bother to look up and watch them.
Rhonda heard their muffled echoes through the car she sat in and she reached out to press the button that rolled the window down. The dark-haired beauty reveled in the chill of the cool breeze that her chauffer drove them through on this wintry night.
It was certainly a new year, each of the teens surmised; Helga carefully capturing each detail from the night in the pages of her journal. Once she'd finished the timeline of events, she took a deep breath, rolled her wrist that was tired from writing, and then pressed the pen to the paper for her final thoughts.
Moral of the story I guess, is that I'm home now, like everyone else, and wondering where it all went wrong. Wondering how I can even FIX what went wrong in the first place.
I could tell that Arnold was thinking it too, when I left. Tonight was SUPPOSED to be this wonderful, amazing night and we were SUPPOSED to have this epic kiss under the lights of the fireworks but we just… didn't. Instead, he hugged and exchanged a lackluster peck on the lips before I left.
I'm sure it'll be fine, you know? Like, Gerald and Arnold will be okay, and Phoebe and I will be fine, and hell—even Rhonda and Nadine will probably figure their shit out. Although, maybe NOT. Before I started writing all this, I HAD to check out the ship or dip account and sure enough, Rhonda had already posted about Nadine and Carson's departure from one another.
Granted, she didn't write a whole lot about it, but she did cite that 'sources told her it was because of his braces that Nadine felt obligated to terminate the relationship' which I think is bull crap and I'm sure won't go over that well.
But I don't care about Nadine and Rhonda. I care about Arnold and I'm worried that Geraldo is gonna make the kid choose between their friendship or our relationship which—if I'm being blunt—is absolutely messed up. I'd NEVER do that to Phoebe… but I guess she kind of already DID that and she chose NEITHER of us seeing as she isn't answering me…
I thought this year was going to be great, you know? I really did. But now… I'm not so sure WHAT's going to happen or WHERE this new year is going to take us. I guess I can only hope that somehow it all works out, right?
Criminy. Now I'M the optimistic one instead of the football-head? Things really ARE changing.
Maybe I'll see what Olga thinks. Man. I can't believe I'm even THINKING about asking her for advice but I'm doing it anyway. Oh well. What the hell. I mean, for cripes sake, what do I have to lose at this point by asking my perfect sister for some advice?
Anyway, Happy New Year, Journal.
~Helga
Oh boy, that was a lot to pack into one chapter! I hope you all aren't as exhausted as I am after writing this lol. What did you think? Please leave me a REVIEW and tell me your thoughts on this chapter-I'm eager to hear your opinions and feelings!
Next posting date is scheduled for Saturday, April 17th so I'll see you all then!
-Polka