Chapter Three
"Miriam! Get the girl, we're going to be late!" I heard Big Bob yell downstairs.
Groaning, I packed the rest of my things. It had been a tough week, the only kids that weren't overjoyed by my departure were Phoebe and Arnold.
Yesterday had been my last day of attending PS118. I don't know why it was such a rush to get me out of there--I mean, it usually takes longer than a week, right? I guess everyone was just excited to be rid of me.
Helga, the bully. Helga, the mean, cold, miserable child. I don't blame them for wanting me out of their lives. I'm Helga the Horrible.
Miriam opened the door. "Helga? Are you…uh…ready yet?" she asked, slurring the words depressively.
I sighed as I finished putting the rest of my books into my suitcase. I would be miles away from Arnold, and I couldn't even take my shrine to remember him by. I clutched my locket, depending on it. My locket would be all I had.
"Yes, Miriam. I'm done packing," I stated, emotionless.
"Okay, dear," she said, closing the door.
I let out a deep sigh and fell upon my bed, holding a pillow for comfort. Tears threatening to fall. I closed my eyes tightly, forcing the sad thoughts away from my mind. Trying to calm my emotions. I couldn't cry, not now. There would be plenty of time for that later.
I rested my head in my pillow, groaning at my misfortune. Forced to part with the two dearest me…my love never to know the depths of my feelings for him. Still remaining clueless.
Maybe that was a good thing. I mean, he didn't have to know, not now. It would be too awkward. Maybe the next time I saw him I'd have the courage to confess, but right now just wasn't the right time. This was going to be a difficult journey.
"Arnold, I'm sorry…" I whimpered into my pillow, wallowing in my self-pity. Remorse for my childish behavior.
Just as I was closing my eyes, trying to get my mind off of everything, relieve myself of the stress, I was interrupted by an abrasive shout.
"OLGA! GET DOWN HERE, WE'RE GONNA BE LATE FOR THE PLANE!" Big Bob yelled from downstairs. Angry.
Growling, I responded and grabbed my bags. "I'm COMING!"
Wiping away the beginnings of a tear, I opened the door and trudged through, hauling my suitcases all the while. Not an easy task, trust me. But if I didn't do it, no one would.
I looked out the window of the car as we passed by the old neighborhood. Seeing old faces. I rested my head in my hand, depressed. A bunch of my friends were playing baseball at Gerald's Field, and a wave of immense sorrow came over me. I should be out there.
Arnold was up to bat. He was hunched over, ready for the kill. Harold was mocking him, as usual, but this time I wasn't there to shut him up. The first pitch, Arnold swung, and missed. Second pitch…strike. Third pitch…he's out.
Sinking his head, Arnold walked back to the bench, Gerald trying to make him feel better about the strike out. I saw all of this while passing by in the car. I turned my head to Bob, who was driving with determination, and decided to give it a shot.
"Hey, uh B-Dad-uh…do you think we could make a quick stop? I was wanting to say goodbye to someone…"
"WHAT? We're already late as it is, and you want to waste more time to say GOODBYE to someone? You've had all week for goodbyes!"
I sank my head now, looking down at my feet. This was what I had expected. Bob wasn't the most compassionate father to me. Olga, well, that's a different story. But me? No, I was nothing, just a malicious little girl, a problem child…
I was silent for the rest of the ride.
"Miriam! Get the girl, we're going to be late!" I heard Big Bob yell downstairs.
Groaning, I packed the rest of my things. It had been a tough week, the only kids that weren't overjoyed by my departure were Phoebe and Arnold.
Yesterday had been my last day of attending PS118. I don't know why it was such a rush to get me out of there--I mean, it usually takes longer than a week, right? I guess everyone was just excited to be rid of me.
Helga, the bully. Helga, the mean, cold, miserable child. I don't blame them for wanting me out of their lives. I'm Helga the Horrible.
Miriam opened the door. "Helga? Are you…uh…ready yet?" she asked, slurring the words depressively.
I sighed as I finished putting the rest of my books into my suitcase. I would be miles away from Arnold, and I couldn't even take my shrine to remember him by. I clutched my locket, depending on it. My locket would be all I had.
"Yes, Miriam. I'm done packing," I stated, emotionless.
"Okay, dear," she said, closing the door.
I let out a deep sigh and fell upon my bed, holding a pillow for comfort. Tears threatening to fall. I closed my eyes tightly, forcing the sad thoughts away from my mind. Trying to calm my emotions. I couldn't cry, not now. There would be plenty of time for that later.
I rested my head in my pillow, groaning at my misfortune. Forced to part with the two dearest me…my love never to know the depths of my feelings for him. Still remaining clueless.
Maybe that was a good thing. I mean, he didn't have to know, not now. It would be too awkward. Maybe the next time I saw him I'd have the courage to confess, but right now just wasn't the right time. This was going to be a difficult journey.
"Arnold, I'm sorry…" I whimpered into my pillow, wallowing in my self-pity. Remorse for my childish behavior.
Just as I was closing my eyes, trying to get my mind off of everything, relieve myself of the stress, I was interrupted by an abrasive shout.
"OLGA! GET DOWN HERE, WE'RE GONNA BE LATE FOR THE PLANE!" Big Bob yelled from downstairs. Angry.
Growling, I responded and grabbed my bags. "I'm COMING!"
Wiping away the beginnings of a tear, I opened the door and trudged through, hauling my suitcases all the while. Not an easy task, trust me. But if I didn't do it, no one would.
I looked out the window of the car as we passed by the old neighborhood. Seeing old faces. I rested my head in my hand, depressed. A bunch of my friends were playing baseball at Gerald's Field, and a wave of immense sorrow came over me. I should be out there.
Arnold was up to bat. He was hunched over, ready for the kill. Harold was mocking him, as usual, but this time I wasn't there to shut him up. The first pitch, Arnold swung, and missed. Second pitch…strike. Third pitch…he's out.
Sinking his head, Arnold walked back to the bench, Gerald trying to make him feel better about the strike out. I saw all of this while passing by in the car. I turned my head to Bob, who was driving with determination, and decided to give it a shot.
"Hey, uh B-Dad-uh…do you think we could make a quick stop? I was wanting to say goodbye to someone…"
"WHAT? We're already late as it is, and you want to waste more time to say GOODBYE to someone? You've had all week for goodbyes!"
I sank my head now, looking down at my feet. This was what I had expected. Bob wasn't the most compassionate father to me. Olga, well, that's a different story. But me? No, I was nothing, just a malicious little girl, a problem child…
I was silent for the rest of the ride.