Peace that Passeth...

Chapter 4: Wednesday

I am unbearably excited! I mean, this is it, it's coming down to the wire. Just today, tomorrow, and then... FRIDAY! I can hardly believe it. ... That's been my greatest fear this week; that I'll wake up, and it'll have all just been a dream... a wonderful fantasy that I refuse to emerge from.

I'm not the queen of popularity by any means. But people notice me now. People talk to me. People seem to want to be my friend. It's hard not to get conceited, what with all the attention, but I think I'm doing okay. I mean, I'm trying not to let it all go to my head...

And Arnold... geez, there's the ultimate happiness right there. Finally, he'll have no choice but to notice me! He'll be dancing with me! I mean, this is it.

Poor Phoebe, though. When I talked to her last night, she sounded really down. Maybe she's jealous that I'm going to the dance with Arnold... most of the girls would be, if they knew. For once, Phoebe's jealous of me. I don't take any pleasure in that, though... just an observation. Shoot, I mean, she's my best friend... I wouldn't want her to be hurt, no matter how good it would make me feel.

Oops, better wrap this up. Lunch's ready.

Helga closed her diary and slid it back under her pillow, then shouted in reply, "Yeah, I'll be right down!" She slid off her bed and tripped over her shoes, which were lying haphazardly in a pile next to her dresser. She fell promptly on her elbows, then rolled over with the pain.

"Man, I'm such a klutz!" she shouted, to no one in particular. She heard footsteps outside.

"Helga...? You've got company." It was Olga, looking down at her bemusedly and hiding a grin. "Should I... ask him if he wants to stay for lunch?"

"Him?" I exclaimed, then relaxed, and continued, "Um... who is it?"

"It's your friend Arnold. He said he wanted to talk to you about some things, and ... well, I'll let you talk to him."

She stepped aside as Arnold came up the stairs. He also gave her something of an amused look as he put his hands in his pockets. Helga's face burned furiously, and she leaped to her feet, dusting herself off as she did.

"Heh. Yeah. I need to clean my room." She forced some laughter, doing her best to pull this rather embarassing situation out of the deep end.

"Are you okay?" Arnold asked, taking a step toward her.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just... you know... uh..."

"It's okay, I know," he said, effectively ending what would have been a string of pointless stutterings.

"So," Olga said, with too bright a smile, "would you like to stay for lunch?"

"Oh, um, sure. Yeah, just let me call home and let my grandpa know."

Arnold went downstairs to do so, and Olga turned to Helga. "So, is he the one? You're going to the prom with?"

"Yeah..." Helga answered, embarassed for who-knew-what reason.

Olga raised an eyebrow, then nudged her on the shoulder. "He's cute."

Without another word, she made her way downstairs.

Helga sighed, then quickly grabbed a comb and made an attack at her hair. She was glad that she and Olga had worked out their differences. They actually found they had a lot in common, only not in the ways that most people look for commonality. That made their two-year separation even harder for Helga to deal with.

"Come on, Helga! Burgers are on the table!" she heard Olga call out a minute later. Helga took one final look in the mirror, then, still dissatisfied, decided it was best to just go downstairs and get it over with. But what had he wanted to talk with her about?

"There you are," Olga said, setting Helga's plate in front of her. Olga had conveniently placed her spot directly next to Arnold's. She made a note to thank her later.

Arnold was just coming in from the kitchen, having presumably used the phone. "Is everything okay?" Olga asked, setting a pitcher of water in the middle of the table.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, everything's fine. I just need to be home by three, since I have to get ready for the prom meeting tonight."

"Really?" Helga asked. "Why are you guys meeting tonight?"

"Oh, we're meeting tonight and tomorrow. There's still a lot more that needs to be done."

"Hmm..."

Helga honestly was trying to be conversational, though she found it extremely difficult to put words to anything she was thinking. For a second, she felt the urge to say something mean, something like "Man, the prom committee sure is a buncha losers! I can't believe it's taking you guys this long to get the stupid gym set up! Man!" but she resisted the temptation. She knew it had never gotten her anywhere before, anyway.

They all finally got situated, and the casual conversation began. A little too quickly for Helga's tastes.

"So, you and Helga will be going to the prom, right?" Olga asked, dishing up some scalloped potatoes.

"Oh, um, yeah," Arnold replied. Not too smooth.

"Well, this is the first I've heard of any of this!" Bob exclaimed, taking a swig of the beer can that was his constant companion. "Why didn't you tell us, Helga?"

Helga shrugged. "Seriously, Sweety, we're your parents," Miriam said, taking a swig in much the same manner as Bob had moments ago. "We like to know these things."

"Well, I didn't think you guys would care whether I was going to the prom or not..."

"'Course we care!" Bob exclaimed. "You've never been to a school dance before, right?"

"Yeah..." she mumbled. 'Thanks for mentioning that.'

"So this is a pretty big thing! Your mom and I met at our junior prom, after all..."

Miriam managed a smile in response, then continued picking at her food.

And Arnold was growing more and more uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted to talk about right now was the prom. He was nervous enough eating at Helga's house as it was.

The conversation continued in much the same way, Bob and Miriam and Olga discussing their respective prom experiences. Arnold was feeling nauseous, Helga was as embarassed as she'd ever been, and neither of them wanted to be at the table right then. Finally, though, they both finished and excused themselves simultaneously. Soon they found themselves on the deck, in the backyard.

"So," she said finally, after several moments of silence. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Arnold was losing his nerve. He had known at once that he shouldn't have come, and was growing more and more certain of that fact as time went by.

'I need to just say this and have it be done with,' he thought, then scratched his head and sat down on the porch swing. With some reservation, she sat down next to him.

"I...I have some things I need to say to you..." he began, resisting the urge to chew on a fingernail.

"Like... what? Something bad?" she asked, suddenly afraid that all her dreams were about to go up in smoke.

He sat silent for a moment, then finally said, "Well, it's not bad, like, 'I hate you,' or anything like that."

"Okay... so what is it?" she asked, growing more desperate to know.

"I'm sorry for bringing this up now..." he replied, sighing. "It's all in the past, I know. But I need to get it out and deal with it."

"Wh-what is it?" she asked again.

"I have some reservations about going to the prom with you, but I don't want you to take it personally."

Oh. So he had some "reservations"? That didn't sound quite as bad as she'd been thinking. But she pressed him to continue.

"Look, when we were younger, I dealt with a lot of stuff... from you. I mean, we were just kids, I know, and things are different when you're older... but I'm having a hard time forgetting all of that..."

So that was it. She figured something like this was coming; it was way overdue, but she knew it was coming.

"I figured this would be a problem," she said, sighing. "I'm sorry, Arnold. I was rotten to you. I know I was. But there was a reason for it..."

"You just really didn't like me, huh?" he asked, displaying his all-too-obvious naivety.

"No, it wasn't that. Just the opposite, actually. I had, like, this massive crush on you all through grade school and junior high."

Wow. She'd said it. It was in the past tense, but she'd said it.

He was stunned for a moment, then said, "Wow. I had no idea. You were good at hiding it."

"Yeah, that's one of my specialties. Hiding my feelings."

"Yeah..."

"Yep..."

Another awkward pause. She was getting sick of this. So was he, but he wasn't about to say anything.

"So, you still wanna go to the dance with me? You're not still mad at me?" she asked finally, breaking the silence.

"Well, yeah. I'm not mad at you anymore, no. It helps to know that there was a good reason behind it... though really, did you think that being mean was the best way to win my affections?"

She laughed. "No, I wasn't that stupid. I was a messed up kid."

She decided to leave it at that. Arnold laughed, too, then said, "Man, it feels weird talking to you like this. I could never talk to Phoebe like..."

He cut himself off midsentence, realizing he'd almost broken his promise. Even though he wasn't with Phoebe anymore, he was always sure to keep his promises.

But this startling revelation wouldn't be dropped so easily, not by Helga. "What? What about Phoebe?"

Caught in the act, and with no other discernible way out, he shrugged, defeated. "Phoebe and I had been going out for a long time. But she made me keep it a secret. I don't understand why, though... it almost felt like she was embarassed of me or something. I mean, I know she genuinely cared about me and stuff, but it was like... I wasn't good enough to show off or something."

"That can't be... she never told me that. I mean, she tells me everything. The only relationship she's ever been in was with some guy that lives across town, a long-distance type thing. She broke up with him six months ago."

"Well, that's weird, because we broke up six months ago. ... Do you think, maybe, she was seeing both of us at the same time? That might explain why she didn't want anyone to know about us..."

He sighed, feeling queasy. He didn't like feeling betrayed. He'd given his heart to Phoebe, and this new idea was really unsettling.

Helga shook her head. There was no way that Phoebe would do something like that to her. Phoebe knew how she felt about Arnold! She was one of the few that knew, and she had promised her...

"Wh-when did you two first start going out?" she asked, reservedly.

He sighed again, running a hand back through his hair nervously. "It was... gosh, let me think...did you go to Susan Dillard's party last year?"

"The New Year's one? No, I didn't."

"Well, I think it was there that we decided to be an "item" or whatever. It grew from there. ... I'm sorry, it's usually a bad idea to talk about the ex..."

"No, that's...okay. It's very interesting... I mean, I've never experienced anything like that. It sounds terrible!"

"It was... Yeah, it was..."

...

And so it had been for Phoebe, though she had been doing her best to keep smiling. Not even her parents knew of Arnold; they'd never even really met him. She had been that precise in keeping it a secret. But she had found it unbearable to not say anything, ever, so she made up the long-distance relationship to give her something to talk about. In her mind, "Jeremy" was Arnold, and everything they did "over the weekend" was what she and Arnold had done all week. Skiing in the mountains with his family, for example. That had turned into quite a story by the time Phoebe had gotten done telling it.

Right now she was finishing a late lunch, making idle chit chat with her parents about school, homework, the like. Her heart wasn't in the conversation, though, and her mother knew it.

"Sweety, what's wrong?"

Phoebe, startled by the suddenness of the question, answered abruptly, "Nothing!" Then, hestitantly, "Wh-why?"

"There's something bothering you, Sugar, and I want to know what it is."

Phoebe did her best to swallow the lump that was rapidly forming in her throat. "I already told you... there's nothing wrong. I'm just...you know, tired. School's been hectic this week."

"Well, it is the end of the quarter, dear," said Mr. Heyerdahl, nibbling lightly on his steak sandwich. "She's probably feeling pretty swamped right now."

"Okay, Sweety, if you're sure... I'm just concerned, you know."

"I know. Thanks Mom..." She excused herself and walked outside, breathing deeply of the air. It still held its rain-washed scent from yesterday, and for that she was grateful. It was renewing.

A car drove up. His grandpa.

"Well hello there, Phoebe!" he exclaimed, stopping and rolling down a window. She stepped off the porch and walked slowly toward the car.

"Hello," she answered, smiling.

"How've you been lately?" he asked. "We hardly see you around the boarding house anymore... It's been months, now that I think about it."

"Well, I've been really busy. Haven't had much time on my hands." So, apparently Arnold hadn't told his grandparents what had happened. That made her feel a little better; at least he was avoiding being forthcoming about things, too.

"That's a shame. Arnold's been cooped up for too long. Are you going to the prom? Oh wait, I forgot, he's going with that little ugly girl... you know, your friend... what's her name?"

"Helga," Phoebe answered.

"Yeah, that's right. Boy, it sure is nice of you to let him do that. Probably means a lot to an ugly girl like her to get to go to the prom."

Phoebe shrugged. "Well, she is looking forward to it."

"So, are you going with someone? Planning on switching dates when you get there, or what?"

She swallowed. "Y-yeah, something like that," she said, adding yet another lie to her growing list.

"Well, you take care. Hope to see you around again sometime soon."

"Bye," she said, waving as he drove away. She sighed, then realized she was biting her lip. At least she hadn't drawn blood yet.

...

I'll kill her. I'll kill her. I'll kill her. I'll kill her. I'll kill her.

Had to get that out of my system. I couldn't really kill her. But I want to. Man, do I want to.

How much betrayal can you possibly manage against one person? The one thing that I absolutely needed her to be faithful with, her knowledge of my feelings for him, that one thing... she couldn't do it.

They don't seem like a very good match, anyway. I would've been better.

And now his heart can never truly be all mine. Part of him belongs to Phoebe now, and I'll never get that part for myself. It's too late. He's no longer the complete masterpiece I thought he was.

I don't blame him at all. He couldn't have known. Phoebe moved in for the kill long before I got up the nerve. It's more my fault than anything.

But she could've said no.

...

Dear Thomas,

I don't know how to begin. I don't know what I can say that can ease your pain. I don't think there's anything I can do to undo what I've done.
You hate me. I don't blame you for that. I deserve your hatred. I deserve worse.
I didn't want it this way. I know what I said to you, and I know you're probably still hearing those words, even now as you read this. But I didn't mean it.
It's so hard for me to do this. I need you to know how I feel, but at the same time, I need to work out my own feelings. I'm a mess. I want to be with you, so badly that it hurts. But my parents are all that I had ever known. And being away from them, having them hate me like that... It was too much.
I'll understand if you never want to see me again. If the hurt has run so deeply that you never want to hear my name spoken again. If you wake up every day, glad that I'm no longer in your life, bringing you pain.
I understand. But I love you. I want to be with you. I just need some time. Please forgive me.

Love,

Olga

Night fell, just as it always did. But pain and heartache never sleep. They prowl, like lions. They prey on the hearts of those who are most vulnerable: those who don't know the difference between truth and fantasy.

Helga lay awake in bed, her eyes fixated on the ceiling. Pain was at the foot of her bed, waiting for her to stop thinking about things, just so he could enter into her mind once again and cause that sick feeling in her stomach. She had been betrayed by her best friend. And it was the ultimate betrayal.

Pain and betrayal go hand in hand.

She heard the front door open. Curious, she got up and peeked out. She saw the dark silloutte of Olga there, framed in the doorway. She was standing on the very threshold of two different worlds: one, her parent's fantasy life, lived through her. The other, her own life, vast, unexplored, waiting to be discovered.

"Olga?" Helga whispered, loudly enough to be heard. Olga's frame tensed, then turned slowly around.

"What is it, Helga?" she whispered back, stepping into the house again.

Helga crept down the stairs as quietly as she could. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"

She sighed, putting an arm around Helga's shoulders. "I have to mail a letter."

"It can't wait till tomorrow?" Helga asked, yawning.

"No, it can't. Tomorrow there will be questions asked. If no one knows, no one can ask."

Helga nodded her understanding. "Let me come with you."

Olga paused, uncertain. Then, with a smile Helga could only barely see, she answered, "Yes. I'd appreciate the company."

They rode in silence--they communicated with silence. Nothing needed to be said. But so much was said, just in the silence, that not all the words in the English language could possibly say. It spoke of an understanding, shared by both. And two different perspectives: one the betrayer, one the betrayed.

And it spoke of a bond, that was growing stronger and stronger all the time.