Part II: A Pet Name

After I was done screaming and flailing around and after I was let go, I finally opened my eyes to see who my assumed abductor was. My eyes had been closed tightly, so my vision was blurred a little, so I rubbed my eyes. I gasped when I saw who it actually was.

"Whoa kid, take it easy. You don't have to go ballistic on me," he said, holding out his hand.

I flung the hand away from me, and glared at him. "You…you're that sixth grader, that Jeremy guy," I said, relaxing slightly as I knew I remotely knew who this guy was.

He looked surprised, not at the fact that I flung away his hand, but the fact that I knew his name. "Oh, so you know who I am, huh?" he asked casually, leaning against the wall of the alley.

"Well yeah, I know who you are…since you're supposedly the most popular guy in school nowadays; that's all they talk about over at PS 118," I said, folding my arms and looking at him.

He smirked and nodded his head absently. "Cool."

"Cool? Is that all you've got to say for yourself…cool?" I said, feeling the rage heightening within me. Here I was, innocently trying to go home from my best friend's house, and some weirdo from my school pounced me. Needless to say, it wasn't a fun evening. "Who are you for real anyway, man? What's your deal?" I demanded, getting closer to this Jeremy guy and poking him in the stomach.

He raised an eyebrow at me, and then chuckled like he really didn't care what I thought at all. "You want the truth, or do you want me to dress it up and make it pretty?" he asked, taking a stick of gum out of his pocket, throwing the wrapper on the ground, and then accentuating his chewing. "I figure you want the truth, considering the way you're lookin' at me now," he remarked. "Anyway, I know a bunch of stuff about you, kid."

This took me off guard. How can he, this person I just met, know a lot of stuff about me when I knew nothing about him? "You don't know me, 'cause I don't know you," I retorted. I don't know…the reasoning made a lot more sense at the time.

Jeremy pushed himself from the wall and walked toward me. Again, I stepped back. "Well, for starters, I know that your name is Helga. Helga G. Pataki. I know I like your name," Jeremy began, walking towards me and looking at me intensely. I didn't know what to do…this had certainly never happened to me before, so I looked away. "You live right over there, in that old blue house, with your mother Miriam and your father Bob, the beeper salesman. You are in the fifth grade, and your teacher is Ms. Lawry. Your best friend is Phoebe Heyerdahl."

I halfway expected him to continue, but for some reason, he stopped there abruptly. I looked at him, and I stopped moving away. At that moment, I was no longer afraid of him. Didn't mean I wasn't totally freaked out by the situation, but Jeremy Fischer was no longer scary. "So, when I had the feeling someone was following me around, all that time it was you, wasn't it?" I asked him, scratching my head, trying to see the entire situation in my head.

He nodded. "Yeah, it was me," he shrugged, like it was no big deal.

"Well listen, Jeremy, I don't like being the object of some strangers obsession, so, if you would excuse me, I have to go home…" I began, and started to walk towards my own house. I stopped in my tracks because he didn't try to pursue me, didn't tell me to wait, stop, or run after me. When I turned back, he was in the exact same place in the alley, just standing there. "Well, what do you want?"

"You're not the least bit curious about why I'm here?" he asked, stepping slightly into the light outside of the dark alley.

I thought for a second. "No, not really," I said, and tried to walk away again. Then, curiosity got the better of me. "Why?"

He stepped out of the alley, and got even closer to me. I really got nervous. He then bent down slightly to my level, placed his lips next to my ear, and whispered, "I wanted to know…what does the G in your middle name stand for?"

Before I had the chance to wonder why he was asking such a random question or consider not answering it, I found myself saying it. "Geraldine." With that, he backed away from me, nodded, and ran off back into the alley. I slapped my hand over my mouth, and cursed myself for letting him talk to me so easily. I should have given him hell. As I walked through the back lot to my house, I beat myself up for it. But, I can't explain it, it was so hard. When someone has a genuine interest in…something…it is so hard to refuse the information, you know? And, no one really ever cared what the G stood for, anyway…

"Hey Kid, want me to carry your books for you?" I was asked suddenly when I was walking to school the next day. I didn't even have to look back, because I knew who it was. Jeremy.

"No, I don't need you or anybody to carry my books for me, but thank you so much for asking," I said between clenched teeth, trying not to become angry. I didn't like this, not one bit. I wanted to walk to school, live my life in peace, and all of a sudden I was being followed around by this big bulky dude that could block out all of the sunlight on my path to school. This was really annoying.

He chuckled, and then quickly jumped in front of me and began to walk backwards. I squinted at him as he traversed. "I know you're probably annoyed as hell with me, wish I was dead, all that good stuff. That's cool," he shrugged, and then turned back around and walked besides me. I looked at him oddly…this guy didn't care about anything, did he?

"What do you mean, that's cool? So, if I spit in your face and asked you a little less than politely to drop dead, you would think that's okay?" I asked, stopping in my tracks and putting my hand on my hip, dropping one of my books as I did.

Jeremy knelt to pick it up. "Sure, why not?" he shrugged, before snatching the rest of the books out of my hand. I began to protest slightly, but then he put his finger to my lips, and I stopped. I growled at him, then tossed my head indignantly as he balanced my books atop his head, far from where I could reach them. I should have resisted more, instead of being so willing to claim defeat, but I didn't. Only one other person had ever volunteered to carry my books for me, Arnold, and that was so long ago.

"What I don't get, Jeremy, is why you're so interested in who I am and stuff, and why you're always popping up when I least expect it?" I asked him, as we came to an intersection we had to cross.

He walked assertively, with all of my books balanced perfectly on his head. I couldn't help but chuckle a little at how people stared at him strangely as we crossed the street. "Well Kid, the reason why I'm always popping up is because I'm staying with a cousin who lives right across the street from you so I can go to school here. I can see your front porch from my bedroom window." he said, as he successfully made it across the street and continued walking. "And I'm so interested in who you are and stuff because I'm so interested in you," he said nonchalantly, just like if he had just said he was interested in science or something. Again, I was caught completely off guard. This time, I choked on my spit.

After I was able to regain my speaking ability, I yelled at him, "What do you mean you're interested in me? You hardly even know who I am!"

"And that's why I caught you yesterday and asked what the G stood for. I'm going to get to know you, Kid, whether you like it or not. And your gonna get to know me, too," he said, suddenly picking up his pace. I didn't notice it, but instead of walking to the bus stop like I wanted to do initially, I had absentmindedly let Jeremy walk to school.

Before I realized this, I asked him another question. "How come you're following me around? Why don't you tag along with some of those phony sixth grader girls, who plaster their faces with check-out isle make-up and pad their bras with Charmin extra soft," I edged, eyeing him.

"For exactly that reason. Who wants 'em…they try way too hard," he said, looking down at me and somehow keeping the books balanced on his head. "Anyway, you've got everything they haven't got, and more. You have spunk, you're not afraid to say exactly what you feel. You're tough, and you're not too girly, but girly enough so I can know you're a girl. You've got an odd type of class about you and you're independent. You're like me, I guess," he concluded.

I put both of my hands on my hips. "Oh yeah, and how's that, Jemie," I sneered, finding an abbreviated spite name to call him. Again, he didn't flinch, as if he didn't care.

"Well, it's like we're both rebelling, rebelling against what people think of us, so that they never know quite what to think of us," he rattled off. I stopped in my tracks and thought for a moment. Yeah, that was kind of what I was doing, in a way. I never wanted people to know exactly what I was about, exactly the reason why I kept that whole Arnold thing a secret for so long. I knew the thought must have shown on my face.

Jeremy gave me back my books. "I suppose you want these back now, considering we're at school." This startled me, and I looked up and we were standing just yards away from the main entrance, and people were already gathered there, staring at us. Immediately I was compelled to kick Jeremy in the shin, and run away from the scene so that people would think I didn't like him or something. But suddenly, I didn't care, much like Jeremy didn't. I wanted to keep them guessing, so they wouldn't know exactly what was going on. So, I played along, smirked at Jeremy, and started to walk towards the school.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around then, Jemie," I said, enunciating the spite name.

"By the way…don't call me Jemie. I hate that," he said a little bit more loudly, as I got nearer to the school.

I shrugged. "Well, I hate Kid, so I guess we're even." With that, I tossed my head and entered the school, and a bunch of people, little more than agape mouths, followed closely behind me.

The rest of the week and into the next continued much in the same way. We made a ritual out of it. Sometimes, we would walk to school, and Jemie would find a new way to carry my books. Other times, he would get his older brother, who owned this sweet black drop top, to drive us to school. By the beginning of the next week, we had barely exhausted the possibilities. We rode our bikes to school that time.

By this time, us two were very much the talk of the school, even though the only time we were seen together was during recess. This was because, last week, Jemie challenged me to a game of foursquare, one on one, and whoever had the best out of five games won. Well, it took us a very long time to play those five games, and when we finally did, he won. Frustrated, I challenged him to every other game that could be played on the playground, and so everyday we would skip lunch and play another game. This was all over by the next week, as we had lost track of who won what.

So, once again at lunch, I joined Phoebe at our usual table, with my light lunch bag that Miriam had hastily packed upon forgetting again this morning. Phoebe grinned widely at me as I sat down. "Well, long time, no see Helga," she said hoarsely as she scooted in closer to me, looking at me strangely.

I looked up at Phoebe and laughed. "Whoa Phoebs, you're hoarse!"

"I know," she smiled, slyly, narrowing her eyes.

I began to chuckle. "You've got a cold, haven't you?"

"Well, actually, it's the tail end of the virus; I'm only hoarse now and still slightly congested, but the worst has passed," Phoebe said, covering her mouth with her fist to clear her throat. "I doubt that I'm still contagious at this late stage of the virus."

I looked across the lunchroom where Arnold and Gerald were sitting with some other boys in our class. "Let me guess…you picked it up from Geraldo, didn't you?"

Phoebe began to giggle, before she had to stop because she started coughing. I patted her on her back and handed her juice to her. "Thanks, Helga," she grumbled, quickly drinking the juice. "Anyway, it wasn't really my fault, because by the end of the week, his whole family contracted it, along with me," she clarified.

"Uh-huh, sure, Phoebs," I teased her, as I opened my lunch bag. Inside, was a thermos filled with chicken grease and one of the pieces of toast she had burned for Bob that morning. "Oh Miriam," I sighed, getting up and throwing the bag in the trash and emptying the thermos of grease in there as well. I sat back down, frustrated and hungry, and looked at Phoebe, who at this time was giggling hysterically. "What is it now, Phoebe?"

Phoebe then pointed to a bruise I had on my arm. "And I suppose you picked that up from someone, too," she said, resting her face in her hands and calming her giggling, awaiting my response.

I looked at the bruise…I had forgotten it was there. But then, I remembered how I had gotten it. "Oh yeah, I got this when me and Jemie were playing basketball, one on one…"

"You and Jemie?" Phoebe questioned.

I looked at her oddly, not knowing what she was getting at. "Yeah, Jemie and I. Anyway, he fouled me to make a three-pointer and I scratched him back. Can't remember who won, though," I concluded. When I finished, Phoebe was still narrowing her eyes at me, and smiling slyly again. "Hey, what're you driving at, Phoebs?" I edged, realizing she was finding some kind of amusement out of the entire situation.

"Oh, nothing Helga, nothing at all," she lied, leaning back in her chair. "Except that you and Jeremy Fischer have become…how should I put this…increasingly comfortable with one another. I mean, you calling him Jemie, him calling you Kid."

Normally, I would have gotten mad and defensive, but I had come to expect this kind of response to Jemie and I for the past week. "Well, if you mean I'm not scared or intimidated by him or anything, no, I'm not. And I wouldn't call it comfort---I've gotten used to him, yes, but it's not like I wanted to. I would rather have him off my back, to tell you the truth. And Jemie is more like a spite name than anything else," I retorted. Phoebe didn't seem to be moved by this explanation.

"I don't think I'd call that a spite name, Helga. Seems more like a pet name to me," Phoebe concluded. My face dropped…I hadn't considered those connotations before. "You know, kind of like 'Football Head' and 'Hair Boy' and 'Goof Wad'…"

Phoebe stopped abruptly for some reason, and started giggling again. I looked up to see who I had expected to see. He had two lunches in his hand, and he set one down before me, and then put the other beside me, where he sat down. "Hey," he addressed Phoebe. "You're Phoebe, right? I'm Jeremy," he said, shaking Phoebe's hand. Phoebe, who was one of the hopeless fifth graders entranced by Jeremy's "looks," began giggling again and the handshake was quite weak. I rolled my eyes at her, as he withdrew his hand from hers. Then, suddenly, I felt his hand in the right pocket of my jeans. I jumped slightly, and slapped his hand away.

"Hey, what's the idea?" I said, as I felt a bulge in my pocket. When I took it out, there were a series of bills, folded neatly together. Before Jemie covered my hands back up, Phoebe had seen the money, and gasped.

Jemie forced them back into my pocket, and made me sit back down. "Don't flash money like that…you wanna get mugged or something?" he said harshly, looking around to see if anyone else had seen. No one hinted at it, so he sat back down with me. "And you didn't see nothin' either, got that?" he said at Phoebe, who just nodded meekly at the scene of the exchange.

I was now confused. "What is this for? I can't take this," I said, almost ready to remove the bills from my pocket before he snatched my hand again.

"You don't have money, do you?" he whispered sharply.

"No."

"Well then, take it, it's yours, and don't ask me where I got it from."

"But seriously…"

"It's twenty bucks," he whispered to me, although it was audible to Phoebe.

Jeez, twenty bucks. I'd take it. "Oh, in that case…" I said, straightening my posture and acting as if nothing had happened. I then proceeded to eat my food, and glanced over at Phoebe. She was still a bit uneasy at the last transaction. She also continued to eat her food silently, while Jemie and I argued about who would win the next match in Wrestle Mania, and I concluded that he was an absolute idiot for thinking Slobbering Sam could ever win. That was the last time during this whole ordeal that Phoebe and I really talked, and I had no idea why.