For a fleeting, euphoric moment, I just look at him. It is so good to see him. But then, like always, reality slaps me in the face. Olga steps out from behind him. She claps her hands together excitedly.

"Oh, Helga, you're back! And look who stopped by to see you!" she says with a wink.

She's all smiles until she notices my sopping clothes.

"Why are you all wet, silly? Here, let me get you a towel!"

She prances off like the self-important princess she is. Instinctively I glower at her, clenching my hands into fists. My anxiety has all but melted into red, hot anger. And anger becomes a beast of its own.

"Hey," Arnold says. "What's up?"

"What's up?" I repeat.

That's it? That's all I get? After months of wondering if we were over, after all of the poems, letters, and bouts of insomnia, all I get is a 'Hey, what's up?'

"Yeah, how've you been?"

"Oh, I'm just peachy, Arnold," I spit, motioning to my dripping dress. "Can't you see that?"

Not off to a good start.

Olga returns with a fluffy white towels.

"You shouldn't get chlorine on that rug, baby sister," she lectures.

She pulls me off of it and starts mopping me up. I yank it away from her.

"Get off! Criminy!"

I storm upstairs, even though it means walking away from Arnold. I just can't be near Olga right now, for my sanity and her safety.

As soon as my bedroom door shut, I pull off dress and that god damn bikini. Blind with rage, I tear open my window and throw the thing away. It catches on the big tree outside, but I don't notice. What I do notice is a young boy on the sidewalk staring at me. I'm his first peep show.

"What're you looking at kid?!" I scream, shaking my fist.

Walking away, I shake water off my arms and legs, refusing to use the towel. To accept the towel, would be to accept that Olga did something right. I refuse.

Instead, I step on it and wring out my hair. I grab clothes, jeans and a t-shirt, and get dressed. I slip on socks and old sneakers. I don't care if it's hot, I want to cover up. I've been overexposed today.

My mind drifts back to Arnold. I better hurry up before he leaves! I'll need to apologize for being so abrasive. Not that it's atypical of my personality, but he just got home. I should have been nicer.

I race out of my room and almost collide directly in him. I side step and catch myself against the wall. I didn't see that coming.

"You shouldn't be so hard on her."

Or that.

"Excuse me?"

"Olga was just trying to help."

"Olga was trying to help?" I repeat, very annoyed.

"Helga-"

"Don't!" I cut it and once again curl my hands into fists.

I am so mad! I don't even know what to say. Arnold just shakes his head, more to himself than at me. I know I'm being a bitch, but does he always have to be so oblivious?

"What are you even doing here? Aren't you still supposed to off saving the planet or whatever?" I hiss.

"I got back early," he replied coolly.

"Hmmph," I huff.

I cross my arms and sway a bit, obviously uncomfortable. I'm acting too hostile, but I continue.

"Hey, who invited you anyway?" I demand. "I mean it's not like I was even here, so it was obviously not to see me."

"Well maybe if you'd actually keep your phone on," he retorts. "you'd know I was stopping by. I left you a message."

I uncross, then recross my arms. I know it's true. The voicemail was from him.

"I only called here because I couldn't get a hold of you. And Olga told me to just stop by," he says in a matter of fact tone. "We both know you're bad at answering your phone."

We? Oh, he kills me sometimes.

"Yeah, well maybe I'm busy," I say. "Maybe I don't feel like listening to your stupid, football headed stories right now. Why don't you go share them with someone like Olga. I'm sure she'll find them 'just sooo wonderful.'"

"I meeting up with Gerald later," he says, as if he didn't just hear my insults. "Pheobe will probably come. Was just gonna invite you."

"Hmmph," I huff again.

Neither of us say anything for a long minute. I don't know how to remedy this and can feel my stomach drop.

"Alright, see ya, then" he says and turns away.

Without another look back, Arnold leaves. As he makes his way home, something wet smacks him on the head. He jumps wildly, completely caught off guard. A frilly yellow and pink bikini top lays on the ground. He picks it up and can smell the chlorine. He then looks up to see the matching bottoms caught on a tree branch and above that my open window.

In that moment things click. Arnold turns back towards the door. He makes a step back towards it, only to turn around again and continue home...