Oftentimes in life, we find ourselves in situations that are simply beyond our control. That would be fine, except that I'm a control freak. I need to know that I have complete domination over my surroundings, my friends, my whole life.

I was angry. Even a little bitter. I shouldn't have been. She was just trying to be a good friend. And I suppose that every TV evangelist and bleeding-heart social worker on the planet would pat her on the back and tell her what a good thing she had done. But I didn't think so.

Not like it mattered much what I thought. They wouldn't let me leave. I was held in this place against my will. They felt that they had to protect me from myself. I didn't think I was that dangerous, but apparently, they knew better. After all, they had all gone to school for years to learn about me, and how I think and feel. Who better to put me through hell than someone who knew everything about me?

"Hey Helga, what color should I make this flower?"

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. There was just something about this kid that drove me nuts.

"I don't know, Megan. Blue," I answered, frustrated at having to answer every mundane question I was being asked.

"No, I think it looks better purple," she said, and proceeded to color it as such.

"Geez..." I muttered, then sighed. Two days in this dump and I was already losing my mind. I needed to get out of there. And if that turned out to be an impossibility, then I needed something to do to keep my mind off of everything.

Megan giggled. She was amusing herself by trying to hit me with wadded up pieces of paper. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. I wasn't going to blow up. I refused to blow up. I . . .

SMACK! Right in the face.

"Alright, that's it! I'm sick of your crap, all right!? Just knock it off and leave me alone!!"

Yow. That was harsh. But she wasn't in the least bit offended.

"You're funny, Helga," she responded cheerfully, then proceeded to run out of the room.

At least I had a little peace and quiet for a change. It wasn't to last, however, as it wasn't two minutes before Sarah came walking in.

"Hi Helga," she said, sitting down on her bed, which was situated right next to mine. "Is something wrong?"

I laughed quietly. "Of course something's wrong! I wouldn't be here if it wasn't, right?" I frowned and kicked back on my bed. It was nice and soft, but I was used to a harder mattress. It bothered my back to lay on that bed for too long.

She shrugged. "I meant, you know, now. You look kinda ticked off or something..."

I paused. It really wasn't any of her business. But since she asked...

"Your stupid sister is bugging the crap out of me. So, yeah. I'm ticked off."

Sarah smiled and put her hand on my shoulder. "She bugs me, too. She doesn't realize what a pain in the neck she is. She'll grow out of it, I'm sure. . . . I hope so, at least."

I couldn't help but laugh a little. "You know, for a kid, you're not so bad. How old are you?"

"Nine," she answered, taking her shoes off and setting them at the foot of the bed.

"So you're going into fourth grade, then? Or fifth?" I asked.

"I'm going into fifth."

"Where did you go to school at?"

"P.S. 118. Why?" she wondered.

I smiled warmly, remembering simpler times. Happier times. Then, realizing that Sarah was staring at me, confused, I just laughed.

"I went there, too." I paused, unsure of whether I should ask or not. I decided I might as well. "Say, I was meaning to ask you. Why are you here? What happened at home?"

Her countenance fell. I realized I had probably said something wrong.

"I-if you don't wanna talk about it, that's fine. I'm not gonna explode if you don't tell me. Would you mind hearing about why I'm here?" I asked, figuring it would help break the ice.

She nodded slowly, almost shyly.

I smiled. "Well, it's kind of a long story, but I'll skip the boring stuff. Needless to say..."

Sarah and I talked and talked. We were probably sitting there talking for a good three hours or more. I told her about my rotten life, then she laid it into me with hers. I couldn't decide who had it worse, me or her. I was leaning toward myself, but of course I was partial.

It felt good, to be able to talk to someone who was going through hell, just like me. It kinda made me feel like I was no longer alone in the world. I mean, yeah, Arnold hated me, my family was made up of a bully and a drug-addict (and a sister who I despise so much as to neglect to even mention her), my life was going nowhere, and I'd be better off dead. But all that didn't matter anymore, since I wasn't the only one.

The next day, Dr. Bliss came. I had apparently missed our last session, and she had gone through a lot of red tape to track me down. I sort of felt obligated to go with her. I waited in her car while she signed release forms, which forbade her from allowing me to see or have any contact with my family. I wondered what was happening to them right now. Big Bob probably blamed me for telling. I remember once when he told me that Patakis never squeal. We just keep everything bottled up, until the cork blows and we lose our minds.

"Well, Helga, are you ready to go?" she asked. I jumped. I hadn't even noticed her getting into the car. "I thought we'd stop and get something to eat first. Is McDonald's okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine," I answered, and reclined my seat. I had a nasty headache at that point, and I really didn't feel like eating, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings. She was going through a lot for me, and I wanted to try and show that I appreciated it.

"So, you haven't talked to your family at all yet?" she asked as she barely made it through a yellow light. For a psychiatrist, she was a pretty crazy driver.

"No, not yet. I don't really want to."

Silence. Then she answered: "You're afraid of what your father will have to say?"

This lady could read me like a book.

"Yeah. Do you know if he's in any trouble?" I asked, not really too concerned, but curious nonetheless.

"No, it doesn't look like he's going to be in any trouble, unless he does it again. You're being sent home in two days."

It was the best news I'd heard in a long time. My eyes filled up, and I tried desperately not to start crying, but she pretended not to notice.

"This can't be much fun, can it? No one your age should have to go through so much. Especially when it involves someone you care about as deeply as you do him."

I laughed. "You think I care about Bob?! That's the funniest thing I've ever heard!"

She shook her head. "No. I meant Arnold. I'm counseling him, now. He's a really good kid. I can see why you like him."

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry. 'Love' him, right?"

"You know it."

............

I was glad to be going home, despite the kind of welcome I was certain I'd get. I needed some normalcy. I would've done anything--anything--to have things back the way they were.

But my life refused to change back. It kept spinning, out of control, with no idea of where it was headed. And with no regard to my efforts, it kept changing.

I felt like I was losing my mind, during those weeks. Everything was happening so fast, I couldn't make heads or tails of it. I didn't have anyone, or anything. At least, that's what it felt like.

And to make matters worse, I was starting high school in a week. Joy of joys...

Two days came and went--Thank God--and I found myself again in the caring companionship of my family. Ha.

"Helga, what did you think you were doing?! You wanna get me thrown in jail?! I've got a family to take care of!"

"Yeah Bob, and you're doing a fine job, too."

"Don't take that tone of voice with me, young lady!"

"What are you gonna do, beat me up again?"

He froze at that. Didn't say another word. He looked at me for a moment, not sure of what to say, then turned and walked into the kitchen. I was a little confused, to say the least.

I really wanted to talk to somebody. I would've talked to Rhonda, if I'd had the chance. I was that desperate. Instead, I thought I'd drop in on Arnold again, see how he was doing. I was a little surprised.

"Oh, hi Helga," he said as I walked up the front steps. He was looking down at me from a second floor window. "You wanna come in?"

Like I said, I was a little surprised. He sounded . . . good. I mean, normal. That was cheering, let me tell you. Normalcy was good.

"Sure, Arnold. What are you up to?" I asked, realizing I sounded pathetic but not caring too much.

"Not much, just trying to clean up Oskar's stupid mess. The man is a slob."

I smiled at him, and he, believe it or not, smiled back at me. Then he came downstairs and opened the front door. I peered into the house and saw Susie upstairs, vacuuming.

"Come on in. I was just about to make lunch."

"Thanks," I said, almost shyly. Fortunately, he didn't catch on and simply stepped aside. Susie smiled down at me.

"Hi there, Helga. Come on upstairs, there's hamburgers and fries waiting. I made extra, since Oskar was supposed to have his poker buddies over today. They didn't show, so it's all yours."

"Thanks," I said, realizing that all I was doing was saying thanks. I made a note to be more conversational.

We sat upstairs, over our burgers, awkwardly silent for fifteen minutes before finally, I got the courage to say:

"So . . ."

He looked at me, his eyes half-lidded. He didn't look condescending when he did that, like most people do. He looked cute. I suppressed a smile.

"So . . . what?" he asked, seemingly unaffected by the lack of conversation. He was a pretty laid-back guy, I remembered, so I tried to steer the conversation to something that was current.

"So you're having sessions with Bliss, huh?" I asked, realizing that this wasn't the most romantic or . . . happy topic to bring up.

He looked at me, or rather, through me, for a good twenty seconds before he answered.

"Yep."

I realized I was touching on a subject I would've been better to leave alone. I tried desperately to switch it to something else.

"So, we start school next week, huh? Do you know what electives you're going to take?"

He was silent again for the longest time, then said, "I don't know . . . they say I'm being adopted."

That was the bombshell of the century. I had no idea what to say.

Finally, I just sputtered, "Ad-adopted? What do you mean?"

He looked at me like I was the biggest idiot on the planet, then said, "You know, adopted. Like, brought up by somebody who's not your blood relative."

"I . . . I know that, but . . . when? Who?"

"In three days. Some couple from Michigan. They're flying out to pick me up, then we're heading there right away."

I couldn't help it. I started crying. Right there, in front of him, the boy I had tormented for years and years, the boy I had loved but never dared to show feeling to. I cried my eyes out. He was understandably surprised.

"H-Helga? What's...what's wrong?" he asked, softening enough that I could see that he was, truly, still the same guy.

I couldn't stop. I was bawling. He came over and put his hand on my shoulder. I grabbed it and held it tight, afraid that if I let go, he would vanish and I would never see him again.

"Don't they have to go through an agency or something?" I sputtered, trying to regain control. "They can't just take you, can they?"

"No, they went through all the legal procedures. It's all fine, legally," he said, though he sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself more than me.

After a minute or so, I was able to calm down and speak in complete sentences. He sat down across from me again, and held onto my hand.

"It must be everything, huh?" he asked, concerned. For me.

"Everything?" I asked.

"Yeah, you know, everything that's happened to you lately. You're having it rough."

I almost laughed. "Me, having it rough? I'm having it nowhere near as rough as you are. I'm not crying because I had it rough."

He raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you so upset?"

"Because I . . . Look, Arnold, you'd better just hear this now, so that you can move on with your life, and I can move on with mine. You remember, back in . . . what was it, fourth grade? . . . when I told you that I . . . you know, liked you. And then I said I made it up to get under your skin? Remember?"

He hesitated, then: "I remember."

"Arnold. Look at me." He was kind of staring blankly off to one side. I wanted his attention focused on me, for at least a little while. "I . . . man, whoever would've though something like this would be so hard to say, huh?"

He looked at me differently now, like he was beginning to understand.

"I know I'm not the nicest, or the smartest, or the best-looking girl in the world . . . heck, you couldn't probably do any worse than me. You deserve someone so much more attractive, intelligent, kind, and everything . . . I mean, someone better than me."

He was no longer looking at me, but was staring down at his half-eaten burger.

I continued. "But for what it's worth . . . I love you. I always have. Whether you've ever wanted to give me the time of day or not, that's how it is."

I stared at him, obviously expecting some kind of response. Instead, he stood and walked out of the room, then down the stairs, and then out the door. I haven't seen him since.

Apparently he came back after I had left and packed some of his things. He told Susie that he had to leave. To get himself together. She didn't know what that means. Neither do I.

Is that where my story ends? I hope not. I mean, so much has already happened, but my one desire is to see him again, to talk to him again. To, at the very least, be his friend. I don't know where he's at, or what he's doing. His adoptive parents have no clue either, nor does Susie or Bliss or anyone. For all I know, he could be laying dead in some dark alley, or he could be drunk at some underworld hangout.

What I do know is that my feelings haven't changed. And even though I know it was my feelings that pushed him over the edge--at least, I'm pretty sure they did--I refuse to let my feelings change.

They're the only thing that hasn't.

The End