***Thank you all for your reviews! I definitely consider what you all think when I write, and I agree! Helga needs to win us over again :)***

After a good amount of bedroom pacing, I decide to call Pheobe. Arnold had invited me to hang with the old gang after all, just like old times. When it's the four of us I'm a lot less guarded then say at school. This would be the perfect time to apologize and make it up to him. It would be like it never happened!

I pull my cell phone out of my bag to find it soaked. Good thing I shut it off! My anti-socail habits aren't all bad, I think, smiling weakly. I take it apart to dry, leaving it on my bed. I then run down the stairs to use the house phone. My pulse quickens as I hear the phone dial.

"Hello?" she answers.

"Hey, Pheobe!" I say in a clipped voice.

"Oh, hello, Helga!" she says "Something the matter?"

She must have heard the tension in my voice.

"What? Oh-Uh, nothing. Nothing at all! I was just, uh- calling.. from my house, because. Because my phone's not working right now anddd... I thought you guys might be up to something tonight," I stammer.

"Oh, was Arnold able to get ahold of you?" Pheobe asks. "I heard from Gerald that he got back early."

"Oh, yes!" I say with forced enthusiam. "I t-talked to him. Yeah. Why- uh wouldn't he have been able to get ahold of me?"

"You said your phone's not working."

"Oh! Right!"

"Helga, is everything okay?" she asks.

"Oh everything's great Pheebs! Arnold just mentioned the four of us should do something tonight, you know like old times, so I wanted to see-uh-what..when-"

"Oh! Yes, we were planning to do something," she says.

Were? My heart sinks.

"But then Arnold said he was feeling pretty tired, and Gerald's helping Jamie-o move into his new apartment," Pheobe informs me.

"Oh," is all I manage.

"I was just going to tag along and help," she says. "That is unless you want to do something?"

I pause.

"Are you sure nothing's wrong, Helga?" she presses.

I take a deep breath

"Actually, yeah, there is Pheobe," I admit. "I'm not okay and I...I screwed up. I screwed up big time."

I'm lying on Pheobe's bed with one hand behind my head and a pint of Ben & Jerry's in the other.

"I'm fucked up," I say. "And that's all there is to it."

I shove a spoonful of brownie batter in my mouth. Half Baked is by far the best flavor.

"I wouldn't say that," Pheobe says. "You're just..."

"A total loon! I belong in a nut house, Pheebs," I cut it. "I mean, I've only been waiting months to see the kid! And then when he does get back, stopping by my house to see me, what to I do? I barrage him with insults! It's like I'm nine years old again, criminy!"

I eat another spoonful.

"Yes, but it does seem like Olga played a big part in this," she tells me, "she definitely has a way of getting under your skin, even when thinks she's helping."

"Ha, you've got that right," I mutter.

"I know Olga moving back in has been.. an adjustment," Pheobe says, "And if she's really making you that miserable, you need to talk to her. Try to work out your differences, atleast so it doesn't affect the rest of your life."

She added the last part when she caught me glaring at her.

"Not like it matters, " I say, "She's moving in with Mark soon and she can continue her 'perfect life' far away from me."

Another spoonful.

"Helga..."

"Hmmph," I groan ,"how do you talk to someone that always thinks she's right?"

"Well I'm doing that right now!" Pheobe counters.

I shove another spoonful in my mouth to avoid talking. Not because I'm angry but because I don't want to admit Pheobe is right. We're both Patakis and both stubborn as hell.

"Yeahhh, well atleast I don't make it my life's mission to change people," I interject. "I'm not telling her to stop wearing her girly girl make-up and start playing baseball."

"Olga just has a.. unique way of showing you she cares," Pheobe offers. "She cares enough to be thinking of you."

"She only thinks about ways to change me so I can be more to her liking. I mean she's constantly telling me what to do, what to wear, how be just like her! Because apparently being me isn't good enough."

"Tell her that," Pheobe instructs, "because she's probably oblivous to all this. She can be rather self-involved."

This makes me smile.

"You mean she's a selfish bitch?" I ask hopefully.

"Sometimes Olga's a bitch," she agrees, nodding.

I fall over, howling with laughter. Hearing Pheobe swear is like witnessing the second coming, only better.

I stand up and stretch my spidery limbs. My therapy session is over.. for now.

"Oh, enough about me," I say, "I bet you were pretty annoyed I tore you away from lover boy."

I'm referring to Gerald, of course. Pheobe laughs and grabs the carton of ice cream.

"As much as I love Gerald," she says "I'd say I'd rather be doing this."

She spoons a chunck of cookie dough into her mouth.

"Ha, uh, yeah, leave the physical labor to the boys!"

Hearing Pheobe say so casually that she loves Gerald catches me off guard. How is it so easy for her? Am I missing that gene or something?

I walk around her room to distract myself. We keep chattering about Gerald. I haven't seen much of him this summer and am genuiniely interested to hear about him. In the corner I spot an old record player, my old record player. I had originally bought it freshman year as a means to impress Arnold, but I grew rather fond of it in my own right. I only brought it over here once Olga moved back. That was a rough month, but it was also great in some ways. I was practically living over here with Pheobe and even spent several nights with Arnold.

Now before you get ahead of yourselves, buckos, there was no funny business going on at his place. I mean sure we had some fun, but nothing to get all worked up about. Arnold is too much of a gentleman and I'm too much of a spaz. Plus he does live with "adults" afterall. I mean, yeah, his grandparents are either too trusting or completely oblivious, so we could get away with a lot more, but I still can't get over the idea of them catching us.

I can just imagine Phill walking in and saying something like, "Oh hey, Arnold. I lost my reading glasses." The light flicks on "Think I might've dropped them in here. Hey, what are you doing over there?"

Criminy.

I scan the pile of records, mostly mine: Out of Our Heads (Rolling Stones), Nevermind (Nirvana), one of my favorites, Baracudda (Heart), Rumors (Fleetwood Mac), a gift from Arnold I hate, Highway 61 Revisited (Bob Dylan), another gift from Arnold I hate, but secretly love, and then some new ones. One in particular catches me eye. The cover is a close-up shot of a brunette with sulky eyes and pouty lips. The word 'Honeymoon' is emblazed in red.

"Oh god, Pheobe," I scoff, picking it up, "what are you planning the wedding already?"

"Actually, Helga, Lana has a very fatalist view on love," Pheobe says pointedly. "I think you 'd really like her."

"Hmmph," I scoff again.

I scan the track listing.. Honeymoon, Music to Watch Boys to, Terrance Loves You, ugh what is this? And who names their album Honeymoon unless they're a total sap? Still curiousity get the better of me. I pull the player out of the corner and put the record on. I don't realize I'm playing the B-side, but honestly, it wouldn't make much of a difference to me anyway.

"So I'm guessing now that Jamie-O has his own place, we'll finally be invited to some decent parties, ehh?" I say less as a question and more as a statement I believed to be true. "I mean no more of that High School bullshit. Like, ha, the that time Rhonda invited us to that stupid sleepover."

I am referring to early sophomore year. Rhonda had another on of her "renowned" girls only slumber parties. Only this time it involved mocktails and mostly cheerleaders. And eventually it was crashed by a few football players, one of which was Wolfgang.

Anyway, Nadine, Pheobe and I got so bored with the whole ordeal, we decided to raid the liquor cabinent. Well it was pretty much just Nadine's and my idea, but Pheobe tagged along.

"Oh come on Pheobe, it wasn't that bad," I say in reference to the gin we scoffed down.

We each took swigs of this old Gin we found hidden in the back. We figured it was so old and dusty, no one would notice it was gone. To say it was disgusting is an understatement. I practically gagged, Nadine winced, and poor Pheobe spit hers out.

Still it was better than watching those girls swoon over those meatheads. Espeically Lila, God I still couldn't stand her. Her good girl persona seemed as phony as ever, I was starting to think it was a charade. I had bet Nadine that Lila would hook up with someone that night. Loser had to drink.

"I think I'm good in that department," Pheobe says firmly.

"Maybe just in a different enviroment. Like Jamie-O's new pad," I stress.

I like the idea of being able to hang out with Arnold at a party. A real party. And one that doesn't involve people from school.

"It was pretty funny when Rhonda found us," I say, going back to the sleepover subject.

Pheobe laughs, "Yeah, and she was like. 'Girls, what are you doing?'"

"Haha, I thought she was gonna lose it. But instead she just goes into cabinet and says-"

"Well at least drink the good stuff!" we say in unison, laughing.

After that Rhonda had turned to Nadine, whom she was really looking for, and said, "Oh my GOD, Nadine. You won't believe this. Lila just started making out with Wolfgang! In front of everyone! And now we have no idea where they are!"

Nadine and Pheobe looked shocked, but I just laughed. I grabbed the bottle of nasty gin and shoved it in Nadine's hands.

"Drink up!" I said.

"I miss Nadine," I say. "Rhonda, too. I mean when she's not being a total princess."

"Same," Pheobe laughs.

"It's just their friends suck," I groan, mostly to myself.

After that I get quiet. I haven't even been listeing to the music, at least not consciously. But now, all I can focus on her Lana's heartbreaking wail. It's as excruciating as it is captivating.

Ever since my baby went away
It's been the blackest day, it's been the blackest day
All I hear is Billie Holiday
It's all that I play
It's all that I play

And all I can think about now is that stupid football head.

It's not one of those phases I'm going through
Or just a song, it's no one else's
I'm on my own
On my own
On my own again
I'm on my own again

And how big of a mess I made. Criminy, what the hell is wrong with me?

I'm on my own again
I'm on my own again
I'm on my own again