"I didn't want to do it," Elli said in her quiet whiny voice, not looking up.

Helga sat motionless on the ground. She didn't feel like moving anyway. It was a beautiful day for relaxing in the park. However, she did have other problems to deal with first. Problems like Rhonda Lloyd.

"Oh, but it was ALL worth it," leered Rhonda, fanning herself carelessly with Helga's most prized possession. The cover had evolved from pink to red, but in essence, it was the same.

"Yes, we LOVED your poetry. It touched us all. You are SO gifted," another girl behind Rhonda piped in sarcastically. Helga didn't know any of Rhonda's groupies. She barely knew Rhonda either, anymore.

Rhonda loomed over Helga from her standing position. "I hope you liked the additions we made." With that, Rhonda shoved the book in Helga's face. Helga grabbed it and jumped to her feet in a rush of anger. Now she was face to face with Rhonda.

Rhonda unconsciously took a step back, then caught herself and sneered at Helga. "Ooh. What are you gonna do, Hel-ga? Beat me up? How mature," Rhonda rolled her eyes.

Helga kept clenching and unclenching her fists. Rhonda was really asking for it, and that was precisely why Helga wouldn't give her the pleasure of loosing it. She could control her temper just like the rest of them. She wasn't in the fourth grade anymore.

So she stood there doing absolutely nothing, long after Rhonda and her friends finished snickering at Helga. She could have sworn that when Rhonda gave her that last glare and turned away to do other likewise productive activities with her groupie companions, there was genuine confusion in her eyes. Rhonda should have known that Helga wasn't the short-fuse she was when they were younger. Rhonda should have known that Helga wouldn't blow her top at the mere hint of an insult.

And this was no hint. This was outright ridicule, something Helga herself had grown out of doing years ago. However, she could hardly blame Rhonda. She supposed this was Rhonda's way of exacting revenge. Revenge for the humiliation Helga had caused in junior high, when she still had the nerve and the drive to bully people around.

Everyone had a good reason to hate Helga, it seemed. She understood that just fine. She hated herself at times.

"They told me they would, um, say things about me at school, and, they'd embarrass me in front of everybody if I didn't get it for them," the disembodied voice pleaded meekly.

Helga snapped her head in the direction of Elli, who was still staring at the ground like an idiot. She hadn't noticed Elli was even there anymore. Then the words began to sink in.

Embarrass her? Embarrass ELLI? Helga wanted to yell at her, wanted to scream 'You're a walking embarrassment as it is, you don't need help from ANYBODY!' She couldn't believe it. Of all the stupid reasons...

Helga's fists clenched again and she stepped up to Elli. The geeky thing began to notice Helga's change in demeanor, and finally looked up in appeal.

"Please, I swear. I didn't want to take it. I didn't care about that stuff at all," Elli whispered in a rush.

'No,' Helga thought, 'of course she doesn't.' So she let her fists relax and gave Elli a glare that sent her uneasily walking away. Some friend. She gave Elli a chance, and it cost her dearly. Maybe she just wasn't meant to be with people.

Helga slumped to the ground and ran her fingers over the bright red cover of her book of poetry. This was probably the only thing she had really enjoyed doing in the past few years. Writing about Arnold was her only vice. Now, now life had ruined that. No, she corrected, she had ruined it all herself.

At least she had learned from her past mistakes. Arnold's name was never written in this book, not once. It was always the elusive 'him', or 'it', or anything besides 'Arnold.' Helga kept her more revealing writings at home. So even if Rhonda and her gang had read each and every word in her book, Helga would still have her secret.

Opening the crimson covers, she found her neatly written pages filled with scrawls of red ink. There was no pattern and no legibility to the pages they vandalized, besides an obscenity here or there. They hadn't even read it. After taking all that time and effort to get a hold of her book and make fun of her so thoroughly, they hadn't even cared enough to read it.

Helga stroked a damp page of the most precious item she owned. Then, she closed it and threw it as far as she could. The empty park didn't make a sound.

***

Arnold sat on the grass and didn't move. His mind was reeling. What was that? What the HECK was THAT?

He could still see her from where he sat, behind some bushes. He honestly never meant to see anything, but he couldn't help it. No, he asserted, it wasn't his fault for choosing that spot to read a book. And when he heard those noises behind him, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene.

He barely understood what he had witnessed. How could that have been Rhonda? What happened to her, to everyone? Arnold suddenly felt a hatred for all the years that stole his friends away. The years that shook the foundations of his beliefs. The years that made his once familiar world a strange place.

Also, there was HER. Arnold hadn't seen her for a long time, maybe half a year. It wouldn't seem like a VERY long time, except for the fact that they were in the same school. Now she was sitting on the ground as well, not 12 feet from him.

He couldn't turn his eyes away. When he saw her, he saw something incredible. He recognized the girl of fourth grade; the girl of kindergarten, even. This Helga, he recognized her. This wasn't the pre-occupied, uninterested Gerald, this wasn't the cold, stuck-up Phoebe, and this wasn't the shallow, phony Lila.

Then, he saw her lift her head from where it had been resting in her hands. She looked up in the direction of where she had thrown her book. Arnold didn't need to be told what it was. Things were falling into place like they never had before. That book was her life. He knew it when he saw her eyes on it in Rhonda's hands, when she lovingly stroked the tear sodden pages before tossing it far into the park.

'Go, Helga,' he thought. 'Go do it. Go get your book back.'

He sat there, watching her gaze at the practically deserted park in front of her, hoping she'd do it. Hoping she'd prove him wrong. Hoping that Helga would show him that she could be herself, that she could stand by what she believed in. 'Get it!' he mentally screamed at her. 'Get it!'

Helga closed her eyes and put her head back in her hands.

'It's no big deal,' Arnold thought to himself. He didn't understand it. It wasn't that important. It was just a book. Why then, did it seem so final? Helga and her writing, parted.

And then, for the first time since he could remember, he started to cry. There was no bawling or wailing, just the salty wetness that silently streaked his face. Once he started, he didn't want to stop. He cried for his friends and for his old life, both of which he knew could never bring him the same joy as when he was younger. He cried for the loss of innocence they had all endured. And he cried for Helga. She came so close, so close to holding on to who she was.

Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he took one more glance at Helga before getting up. She hadn't moved. Feeling his eyes uncharacteristically fill again, he quietly walked off.

***

The air was starting to get an evening chill. It had only been an hour since she met up with Elli in the park, but Helga felt like she'd been sitting there forever.

"I think this is yours."

She practically leaped into the air from shock. Helga's head snapped up to look at the speaker. Oh god. He was standing right next to her, holding out the red book. He was offering her life back to her, and she didn't know if he realized this.

Helga had tossed away her book for a reason. She didn't want it back, not now. It had been hard for her to do it in the first place. But seeing him there, offering it back to her like it was some dropped change, that was unbearable. She didn't want to feel. She didn't want to care. Why did he have to make it so difficult?

But Arnold stood there, hoping she would take it. 'Take it, take it, take it...' became a silent mantra in his head. He couldn't just leave. He wanted his faith in people restored, and he needed her to give it back to him. He needed Helga.

They both stayed like that for minutes, frozen in position, thoughts rushing through their heads to make up for the lack of physical movement.

Helga looked at Arnold again, and noticed that he'd been crying. His eyes were bright and faintly red-rimmed. He didn't look at her, simply trained his vision on the book in his hands.

'Why him?' Helga thought. Anyone else and she'd have told them to leave her alone. But not him, never him. She couldn't, WOULDN'T, tell him to go away. It just wasn't going to happen. Because as much as she hated the fact, Helga would always care. If not for the world, then for him.

When she reached for the book, Arnold lifted his eyes from the red cover. She gingerly placed it in her lap, running her fingers over the top.

"Thank you," she said.

Arnold nodded. 'Sure. Anytime, Helga.' he thought. And the odd thing was, he meant it. He didn't want to leave, either, and was half afraid Helga would come-to at any moment and tell him to scram. This whole thing was already becoming like a bizarre dream, almost too surreal for reality.

He shifted his feet, not knowing what was going on inside her head. It had never been a rare occurrence to be confused by Helga. To be utterly baffled by her mysterious, yet familiar, personality.

"So, are you gonna sit down or what, football-head?" Helga asked, with a tone of amusement coloring her voice.

Football-head. Arnold smiled and dropped down next to her. For whatever reason, he felt strangely happy.


The End