Part III: Denial

As the weeks passed us by, Jemie and I did become more "buddy-buddy" toward one another, much as Phoebe had observed. I didn't see the comfort level myself, until we were there. My daily protests to him walking me to and from school lessened until I accepted that fact that he would do it anyway, so I relented. He came over my house at dinner time at least twice a week, despite the fact that he was never invited, but that soon became okay because I could ignore him across the table while he and Bob talked about the business world or football or something…Big-bobish like that.

I was startled out of indifference by a sudden banging on the kitchen table as Bob and Jemie continued one of their oh-so interesting conversations. After the initial surprise, I sank back into the slump I had been in and began eating my food, chewing it until the texture disgusted me and I swallowed. I really did not enjoy dinners at which Bob was excited…this required of Mom and I some sort of response.

"So, Mr. Pataki, I take it that you don't think the Blues will recruit that senior running back from Hilwood University, then," Jemie concluded from Bob's sudden outburst, as the two continued their conversation about the local football team. Usually, I found a little interest in the team, but after a couple of hours of discussion, I could really care less.

I then glanced at Big Bob, whose face was flushed from intense conversation. "Heck yeah, I do. That is, if the Blues know what's good for them. If they swing that recruit, we're headed towards the big time, I'm telling you," Bob reasoned, swinging a piece of meat loaf off of his plate, a piece that landed on my lap. I sighed, wiping it off with my napkin onto the floor and continuing to stare at the two of them as they continued their discussion.

Jemie wiped his mouth and pushed his once stacked plate of food away from him, and thought for a second. "Well, I don't know, sir…I think the Blues have had their eye on this guy from Michigan, their old quarterback…I think if they can recruit him, they're going to leave the Hilwood guy alone," Jemie decided.

For a while, Big Bob was silent at his arraignment, and picked at his teeth aimlessly as he thought about what Jemie said. I didn't know at that point whether Dad was going to explode from anger of being contradicted or what. But, after a little more silence, he smiled and laughed a little as he ruffled Jemie's hair. "By gosh, boy, that's a very intelligent observation. Did you hear that, Miriam? This boy's a stinking football expert!" Bob exclaimed, taking pride in Jemie as if he were his own…relative…or something.

I glanced over at Miriam, who I'd normally expect to be dozing over her plate, to hear her response. For some reason, as I'd noticed earlier, whenever Jemie was around, she would force herself awake and eye him keenly. "Uh-huh, B, I heard that alright," she said shrewdly, sipping on a glass of ice water that she poured into her usual wine glass. Somehow, I knew what was coming next.

"Hey girl…I mean, Helga," Dad addressed me. I perked up and looked at him as he spoke. "This is the kind of example I want you to follow. Not necessarily in football, but this guy's on the ball! He knows what he's talking about…that's dedication, Olga, dedication. You could take a few pointers outta that book," he said, scraping his fork against his plate as he ate his last bits of food.

"Sure, Dad, whatever you say," I responded flatly, as I then glanced at Miriam. Much the same as she had done during nights when Jemie frequented the house, she took the napkin from her lap, wiped her mouth, and scooted from under the table.

"If you would excuse me B, Helga…Jemie, I have some matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your meal," she said curtly, walking briskly into the hallway and up the stairs. It had been common, for the past few weeks, for Miriam to excuse herself whenever I was invited into Jemie's and Dad's conversations. I never quite understood that.

"Hmm…what's eating her," Bob would always say, before shoveling another spoon full of food into his mouth. And I would just shrug, but I would wonder, too.

On the weekends, Jemie would introduce me to some of "the guys," the sixth graders from 118 and other surrounding schools and some random dudes he met at the Y. I would always go for a good game of basketball, which was the sport that I seemed to be really falling in love with—Jemie was just an accessory. When I was on the courts, I would forget about everything, who I was playing with, where I was, and I was so into the game, I swear.

One Saturday we went over to 119's playground, where they were holding a tournament of sorts to prepare for a bigger one that would be held later, once the fall season began next year. With this new environment, he had a new set of friends to introduce me to. I glared at them as they eyed me leeringly, gritting my teeth at them behind a fake smile.

"So yeah, and this is Helga, my better half," he said midway through the introductions, after naming off all of his obscure friends. That annoyed the hell out of me whenever he said that, even if it were sarcastic, because I knew what he was implying; that I was his girlfriend.

"He wishes he were me, that's all that is, guys," I said quickly, as the guys I met would laugh. And this became a tradition…the one statement did not go unaccompanied by the other. Old as that joke got, the guys got a kick out of it every time. I eventually stopped playing basketball with the guys too much, though, because they began covertly congratulating Jemie for me, which sickened me to the core.

Then sometimes Jemie and I would ride our bikes around the park. To keep from having to talk to him, I would race him. Other times he would take me to the movies, and I would always pick the most popular, crowded movie to see and buy a big tub of popcorn to place between us. That way, he couldn't try any funny stuff. Once, he got us some tickets to Wrestle Mania, awesome seats. I usually went with Harold whenever there was a show in town, a tradition that had started in the fourth grade, but lately at school, he was nowhere to be found. I never wondered why—I just though it was a coincidence that I had become estranged from my classmates at the same time Jemie became a parasite.

And all this time, every minute we spent together, I abhorred it, because I still didn't like him. I mean, he was being so good to me, at least in my mind at the time, with the outings, keeping Bob appeased, the occasional gifts—the money—but I didn't really like him. And I realized, since the first day he grabbed me into the alley, that I had not told him so. But, like I said before, it was so hard to tell him, because I know by now he really liked me, in his odd, absent way.

By the time that school was weeks closer to an ending, I noticed an odd air come over everyone at PS 118, at least in the upper el. Usually, when I passed in the hallway, there would be an incessant chattering, presumably about me and Jemie or something. Now, it was totally different. I would pass by in the halls and a hush would settle over them, like a heavy blanket of fog, and it would stay there until I was well out of hearing range. I ignored it until my own teacher, Ms. Lawry, did that to me one day. That infuriated me. I didn't have to confront anyone about it though; they questioned me first.

The Princess Wellington-Lloyd was the first one to speak to me after weeks. Lately, I had started coming to class early after lunch to get a head start on the homework…I don't know why…it was like I was becoming a braniac or something. Anyway, I was sitting in my seat in the front row when Rhonda and the gang, including Nadine, Sheena and Lila, walked into the classroom and occupied the seats surrounding me. I glanced up at their little assembly, and then looked back at my work.

"Oh, come on, Helga. Don't act like you all of a sudden can't talk to anybody," Rhonda finally said, after a few moments of silent curiosity. This broke the ice.

I gently put down my pencil and glared back at her. "Me, huh? So you think I'm the one whose been avoiding talking to people. Please," I said, taking my assignment and putting it in the homework tray. "It's like, do I have the chance? Every time I walk through the halls, it's like people are scared of me or something. If you really want to talk to me, you can do like you just did now…move your lips, vibrate your vocal chords, and hope what comes out of your mouth is coherent. Simple as that," I concluded, before leaning back in my chair and folding my arms.

Nadine looked at Rhonda, whose mouth was agape, like I had just told her to burn in hell or something, and continued the conversation. "Well, I think what Rhonda meant to say, Helga, is that you've changed, and that she was just wondering if you were okay," Nadine filled in.

Rhonda snapped out of her indignation just in time to respond. "Yeah, but I wouldn't call it wondering…maybe just curiosity. I mean, everyone knows about you and Jeremy Fischer, of course," Rhonda said, grinning wildly.

I didn't know what she was getting at, so I continued. "Yeah, of course," I narrowed my eyes at her, to let her know that I was suspicious of her motives.

"And well, ever since that money exchange incident, I notice you seem to be more accepting of him, and…I was just curious as to how serious a couple you guys really are, what with the money and all…" I barely heard those words, because I immediately got mad. I mean, furious. The turn beat red instantly mad. No one was supposed to know about that.

I interrupted Rhonda. "What!" I screamed. Ms. Lawry wasn't there, so I stood up and picked up Rhonda by her collar. I could tell this surprised her, because we were relatively the same height and same weight; she never would have expected me lifting her. Hell, I didn't expect it either. "Tell me, Princess, where'd you get this information from?"

"Please Helga…this is my new Caprini denim jacket…you're ruining my collar," she exclaimed with a shaky voice, beginning to get nervous.

I scowled at her. "Look at my face; does it look like I care?" I then lifted her higher. "Tell me!"

"Okay, okay, I found it out from Harold who heard it from Arnold who was told by Gerald who got it from Phoebe," she spat. Just as she said this, Phoebe walked into the room. "There now, are you happy, or would you rather have this in paper?" I ignored Rhonda, and dropped her to the floor. "Well…I…" but for once, the Princess didn't have a come back. The rest of the girls watched me as I approached Phoebe, as they were afraid about what I was going to do.

Phoebe, who probably caught the tail end of our discussion, was already in the defensive. "Helga, I'm really sorry. I just felt it was necessary to…"

"What, Phoebs, what? What was so necessary that you had to go blabbing it up, huh?" I said to her, harshly. Phoebe shrunk under me, like I had never seen her do before. Usually, even though she was soft spoken, she would be more assertive towards me. But she shrunk, as if I had dissolved her or something. "Jeez, now the whole world knows…thanks to you, Phoebe." On that note, I stomped out of the room and went down the hall. I slowed a little when I heard Phoebe's soft sobs, but I couldn't bring myself to turn back.

The next person I met in the hallway was Harold. As I stalked towards the stairs of the school, Harold started walking along side me. He began talking softly as I approached the staircase. "Helga, I know what I think may not mean a whole lot to you, but I just have to say this," he began, staring down at his feet as he walked. "I think you should dump that Jeremy guy so things can get back to normal…" he said, and then stopped abruptly. As I began to go down the stairs, I glared back at Harold. He was eyeing me through the corners of his eyes, not really looking at me directly.

"Who said I actually was going out with him, Harold," I said. Harold hung his head as I left, as if he had failed or something. I did not look back.

Gerald was the next one to tag along with me as I walked out of the school. I was still going down stairs when he caught up to me. "Hey Helga, could you stop a minute and just listen to what I have to say," he shouted as he ran down the steps to my level.

I grunted, "I didn't stop for anyone else—what makes you so special?"

"I know you may find it hard in that mind of yours to comprehend this, but that guy, Jeremy Fischer, he's no good, man," Gerald said in his usual, straightforward, way.

I slowed my walking as if I were interested and looked at Gerald. "Oh, is that so?"

Gerald nodded. "Yeah, it is. He may be the most popular boy in the sixth grade, but I have my own sources that can outline his criminal history. Like, did you ever wonder why he was almost sent to Juvi?"

I stopped in my tracks and narrowed my eyes at Gerald. "Phoebe put you up to this, didn't she?" I asked him, before leaving him on the steps. "She must have; you don't care anything about me, do you?"

"This guy is that bad, Helga, that bad," Gerald said in a final attempt to sway my attention. It didn't work. By now I was on the first floor, ready to exit through the main doors of PS 118. As I walked, I listened to my footsteps against the tile, and listened to the sound of being utterly alone. And it was beautiful…I had realized that between sleep and class, Jemie had not given me a moment's rest, and it was really getting to me. But, I could not cherish that solitude for very long…I felt a hand pulling at my arm, and immediately I was swept into a corner.

The grasp was on an old bruise that I had forgotten. "Hey, watch it…that was my bruise," I said, rubbing my arm before looking up. It was Arnold. This really surprised me, especially since I hadn't even really seen him since that day he asked about Jemie and I. "Arnold…" I managed to utter.

From the looks of Arnold's face, he felt just as awkwardly as I did. "Helga…it's like, I'm at a loss of words here. I truly don't know what to say," he began, looking me directly in the eye, something that I was not used to.

I didn't feel like standing there and enduring the eye contact, so I started to leave. "Well, it's no wonder, because you really don't have anything to say to me, Arnold…" I said, and I turned toward the entrance of the door. Before I could leave, Arnold grabbed me again. This time on another bruised spot. "Hey, watch the contact, bucko!"

"Somehow, it seems like that's the only way to get your attention, Helga," Arnold said sharply, eyeing me again.

I rubbed my arm, as that bruise had been of a newer injury, and it still hurt. "Well, I think that perhaps a less primitive mode of communication…like talking…would be more effective," I growled, turning away from him and gingerly treating my bruise.

Arnold walked around me so that I was facing him, somehow forcing me to look at him. "You don't like being pushed around, do you?" he asked me, his eyes narrowing even more. Even though I was slightly startled by this sudden interaction, I did not want to hint at it. I averted my eyes so Arnold could not see the fear in my eyes.

"To hell I don't, Arnold!" I said, a little less assertively than usual.

Arnold then folded his arms. "Then, why do you let Jeremy do it?" Ooh, he had caught me. I didn't know which way to turn, what path to take in the conversation. Yes, I let Jeremy get away with more than he ought to have, and yes, that was what our entire "relationship" was based on…him doing things that I did not want him to do. But, as I had been doing all day, I wanted to avoid that topic.

"You know, Arnold, it is really none of your business…" I began.

"Oh, but it is," Arnold interrupted. Even though I wanted to leave then, I didn't. I wanted to hear what Arnold had to say. "It's my business because people I care about are getting hurt over this thing. Like Phoebe…she got threatened by Jeremy to stay away from you, basically so that he could have you all to himself, I guess." With this revelation, my mouth dropped open. Was this why Phoebe no longer called, stopped my house, or anything? And, although I knew Jeremy was a questionable character in the first place, I never suspected him of threatening. "And Harold…when Jeremy found out that you two normally go the Wrestle Mania together, he bribed him for his tickets. And all of the guys can testify to being lined up and told to stay away from you, or else…"

My mind was reeling as Arnold told me all of this. All of a sudden, everything seemed to connect. Why the chatter of curiosity all of a sudden became hushed silence. Why all of the guys I usually associated with had shied away from me. Why everyone was all of a sudden shunning me for whatever it was between Jeremy and I. But, I was stubborn…I didn't want anyone to be able to be credited with saving me, because I felt that I really wasn't in any trouble. So, when Arnold finished, I turned up my nose. "Oh, I see. You were never really caring about me and how I felt about this whole thing, were you Arnold?"

Arnold shook his head a little less than patiently. "No, I didn't say that…"

I ignored him. "You just want to right everything that's been wronged in that head of yours, don't you? You won't rest until everything in your goody-goody world is back to the way it was…"

"Just quit it, Helga! All I know is that a lot of people I care about are being hurt through this whole thing, and unlike you, I'm not going to stand around and watch it happen," Arnold finally concluded, by now looking wildly at me. It was such a climax to our conversation, it almost felt like we were both breathing heavily, gasping for a breath that we already had. I really had nothing else to say to Arnold; he had successfully had the last word. I silently turned from him and walked out of the school.

While I walked down the steps of the school, I could hear Arnold shouting after me. I ignored him and sat on the base of the steps of PS 118. I shut out all sounds for a while, until I tuned back in and Arnold was gone. I figured he had given up on me as a lost cause and walked back to Ms. Lawry's. I stared at my feet, avoiding looking at the clouds for fear that my eyes would burst with tears…tears of intense anger. I successfully held them back, not quite knowing what I was angry about. I remained on the base of the steps of the school until the warning bell rang, and I had to go back to class.

Jeremy came to dinner that night. He actually had gotten to my house before I did. I finally got a chance to steal away, and I took a walk in the park and really thought about what Arnold had said. I did all of that thinking to come to the conclusion that I was going to do what I damn well pleased anyway, no matter what anyone else thought of it. While I was walking, I looked up at the sky again, and noticed how the lower clouds lowered the ceiling. There were those few wispy clouds high in the sky, but even they were blocked by the heavier, darker clouds hovering overhead. The clouds traveled slowly, one casting a shadow over me momentarily as I walked out of the park. I stopped in my tracks and glared up at the cloud, as if my eyes alone could dissolve the cloud away…

And my thoughts were interrupted by Big Bob, banging his fist on the table and laughing raucously. Jeremy was joining in his laughter, and Miriam looked like she wanted to puke. Once reawakened to the present, I sighed and began to stir my untouched food absently, until everything was combined and no longer looked like separate entities anymore. I sometimes looked up at Miriam, who switched her glares between me and Jeremy the entire time we were eating. I noticed that she was even more alert than she had been on previous times that Jeremy came to dinner, and I was about to find out why.

"Did you here me?" Jeremy said, his voice suddenly coming through the fog of my preoccupation.

I looked up from my food, drowsily, my eyes half closed. "Huh? I didn't catch that," I said, forcing myself back into reality and out of my thoughts.

Jeremy eyed me strangely before he asked me again. "I said, where were you all today? I barely saw you at all," he repeated, taking a huge spoonful of food and scooping it into his mouth.

On that note, Miriam took the napkin she had folded in her lap and slammed it onto the table, her usual ritual for excusing herself. "Well, B, as…interesting…as this conversation has gotten, I have to excuse myself," Mom lied, getting up from the table and pushing in here chair. She then walked towards me, unexpectedly. "And Helga's coming with me." Before any of us could protest or ask any questions, my mother took me by the hand and walked with me up to my room, where she closed the door gently after she was sure that Jeremy and Dad had resumed the conversation.

"Hey Mom, what's the deal? I didn't even finish my food yet," I was finally able to say, once she had closed the door. Mom completely ignored me, and sat next to me on my bed.

"Helga, I don't like this Jeremy guy, not one little bit," she said curtly, looking into my eyes. This kind of surprised me. I had not expected Mom to be so assertive. I had nothing to say at this point, so she continued. "Now, I've been watching this whole thing develop in front of my eyes for the past few weeks now, and I wanted to say something, but your father wouldn't let me. He said it would do you some good, to have a friend like Jeremy around. But, honey, trust this from a woman who knows…Jeremy is not a good friend, Helga, he's really not."

I got up from my bed and threw my hands up in the air. "Crimeny, now my own Mom's joined the campaign!" I exclaimed, beginning to pace in my room. "Do you realize how many people have told me basically just that today? The same amount of people I've told to mind their own business…"

Miriam was not moved by the beginnings of my speech. "And this is my business, Helga, because you are my business," she said, getting up, and putting her arm gently around me. Even though I was in no mood for maternal nurturing, I put up with it. "Now, I'd like to think that as your mother, I at least have the responsibility to keep you from doing the same stupid things that I did at your age, perhaps older. Is that a safe assumption?"

"I guess so," I relented.

Mom nodded. "Now, honey, this may have seemed like all fun and games at the time, but it is evolving into something serious, something no one, let alone an eleven-year-old in the fifth grade, should have to deal with," she stated, fairly simply. I glared up at her, and she continued. "A relationship based on gifts, favors and money is going to go nowhere good fast…and don't ask me how I know," she said, before I could interrupt. "Jeremy is immature and possessive, and although you may not like him, at this point, you may not be able to get rid of him easily. And all of this that has happened, is going to come back to you in a big way."

I sat silently for a while, contemplating what Miriam had just said, before she interrupted my thoughts. "What ever happened to that cute little boy with the weird shaped head…Arnold?" That was the first time Miriam had actually gotten Arnold's name right. And to think of Arnold then only made me want to cry. I didn't say anything else, and my mother got up from my bed and walked towards the door.

"Well, Helga, remember what I said…" she began to whisper, as she quietly left my room. Miriam was the last one who tried to convince me that Jeremy was really bad news, but I had to be difficult…I had to learn the hard way, with one last experience that sealed my fate.

Later that same week, I left school early after having a headache, to return home to an empty house. I immediately flung my backpack to the ground in the hallway and ran up the stairs to my room. In my opinion, things could not have been worse at that point in time. Being with Jeremy was just getting to me…I didn't want to look at his face anymore, for fear that I would remember the first time he spoke to me, saying that he was interested in me. At that point, I never wanted anyone to be interested in me for the rest of my life, really.

When I got to my room, I lay on my bed and looked at my ceiling. As I looked at the pattern of the paint crisscrossed on the wall, I remembered waking up to that very same pattern, and stumbling into the dark to reach my Arnold shrine in my closet. I would awake to that pattern after feeling some kind of inspiration from my sleep, and I would go to the shrine and write down what at the time I had so deeply felt. Looking at that pattern again lulled me back to my closet, where my now rarely visited shrine lay in ruins.

It had been so long since I had refreshed my shrine, and parts of it had already crumbled away. But still the likeness of the football head stayed in tact. And revived were memories of the "I love you" and the misplaced emotions upon entering the fifth grade. Embedded in the clay of the shrine, just where I had thrown it, was the locket I used to keep in my shirt, of Arnold. I pulled out the locket and stared at it for a long time, at the image of the younger Arnold, from the beginning of the fourth grade. Somehow, I was compelled to change the picture, so I dug further in my closet to find the picture Arnold had given me at the end of the year.

As I was making my own sounds in the closet, I heard a loud banging sound coming from downstairs. I paused with my digging, and as I heard nothing else, I continued searching. I then paused indefinitely as I heard heavy footsteps trudging up the stairs. I knew it wasn't Miriam or Bob, since Miriam was off at her new job and Bob would be closing up the beeper place that night. I somehow had sense enough to close my closet and begin moving away from my door. This was all I had the chance to do, though, before the unexpected happened.

Jeremy burst through my door.

Again, I was caught totally off guard, and I hardly could find the words to say when he addressed me. "What's been up with you lately, Kid? I try to walk you home, and you're never there anymore," he said, making cheap small talk as he approached me.

I looked around, and trying not to pin myself into a corner, I began to walk around my room in circles, backwards. "H…how did you get in this house?" I was finally able to spit out.

"It was easy enough…you forgot to lock the deadbolt," Jeremy said, again with that weird look in his eye that really scared me. I then noticed that he was not looking directly at me, but at my locket. I hid it behind my back, but it was apparently too late.

I tried to get him out of the way, in the most patient manner possible. "Jeremy, I would really appreciate it if we didn't talk here…"

"Kid, I have the feeling you've been avoiding me, and I want to know why," Jeremy stated, making a final swift step towards me. But I was quicker than he was, and I was able to jump out of the way in time.

"Get out of my room, Jeremy!" I edged, dodging his grasp and running out of the door. This time, though, he was onto me, and he caught up with me before I could leave. He grabbed my wrists with both of his hands, then swinging me around so that he had my shoulders. At first I struggled a little, then it hurt my shoulders too much to actually move.

He held me for a while before he said anything. "What's the matter with you, Kid? After all I've done for you, talking to your folks, riding bikes with you, taking you to the movies and Wrestle Mania…and this is the thanks that I get, you running away from me?" he said. When I didn't answer, he shook me. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, huh?"

When I did look at him, I looked at him with fear lining my eyes. All of a sudden, the Jeremy I had known lashed out into this vicious monster that probably everyone at school knew, but I had never seen. Maybe I said too much through my eyes, because he let me go, as if he were disgusted with me or something. "Well anyway, it's about time you do a favor for me…"