I DO NOT OWN HEY ARNOLD!!! DON'T SUE ME!!! (I don't have any money anyway so you wouldn't get much out of it if you did)
Return To Innocence
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"Hey, Short man, home already?" Grandpa asks, as I walk into the living room. He and Ernie sit watching the news. I feel abnormally tired, and feel like going straight to bed, but no such luck… nope.
"You hear about that crazy lunatic out on the loose?" Grandpa asks, gesturing with a tap to his head. Ernie shakes his head.
"People today," Ernie says, "If I ever come across that guy… BAM!" he smacks his fist into the palm of his hand.
"What?" I perk a brow. "I haven't heard anything." I shake my head.
"Well, you see… there's a…" Grandpa looks around the room uncomfortably, "This man, you see, he's not… he…"
"He's a rapist." Ernie says flatly.
"Ernie!" Grandpa yelps, and animatedly grabs onto the sides of his head, "Don't say it to the boy like that!"
"What? It's not like he's never heard of the term before, right Arnold? I mean, he's what, 14 now? He's not a little kid anymore; he's practically a teenager now." Ernie rationalizes, folding his arms. I walk over to them and sit down, dropping my book bag on the way over to the couch.
"So tell me… what do they know about him?" I ask, totally disregarding the small argument between the two. This, capturing my attention… for some odd reason I have to know more. Perhaps it's not so odd to be intrigued by such a topic. Here, in Hillwood, it seems as though we have a such a low crime rate… for being a fairly big city, that is. Rape… isn't something commonly spoken between people… which might be a little odd in itself.
"Not much," Ernie says, lower, almost as if he were saying something top-secret to me, "They think he's a teenager, though… ya' got any suspicious looking kids in that high school of yours?" he eyes me, searching for the slightest notion that I might be dishonest with him.
"No. I mean, there are the 'weird' people, you could say," I say, emphasizing the word 'weird' with finger-made quotations, "but no one I'd say was a… rapist…" I look over to Grandpa and blush. Although I believe myself mature enough to use the word freely, I still find it embarrassing to have to say such a crude word in front of my grandfather.
"Hmm, well, be on the look out," Ernie says, shaking his head, disappointedly, "What is the world coming to?" With that, he gets up and walks out of the room.
"He's right," Grandpa adds, standing up, "People aren't always what they seem, short man, that guy could very well be a student at your school, who knows?" he turns to walk out of the room, but then turns to face me again. "So, what exactly have you been doing at that Charlie's house, anyway?"
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I walk into my bedroom and close the door slowly, cautiously, behind me. Today… has been odd to say the least. I'm not sure how I'm going to bring myself to see Charlie after school tomorrow. Looking him in the eye is becoming harder and harder as I come to know more and more about him. His father… his family life isn't very good… somehow I feel sorry for the guy and afraid of him at the same time. Well, no… I'm not afraid of him… it's his father that creeps me out.
Oh, yeah… the father…
…looking at Helga like that…
I feel so angry about it. I feel like I should have done something more than… what I did. I know… I have to go to Charlie's even if it makes me uncomfortable to do so… for her. It's for her. I mean, how can I just skip out and let her fall victim to that man's gaze again… or worse…
I can't be a coward with this. I feel like I at least owe it to her. I left her for one day and look what happened? …or might have happened? I'm not sure anymore what DID happen… I should ask her… but wouldn't she just brush it off again? If I know Helga, she'll probably get even angrier that I'm persisting with the question. It's an important question, though, isn't it? Shouldn't I have a right to know if my friend's in some kind of trouble? …or has been in harm's way?
Maybe I don't.
But I still want to know what happened.
There's a knock at my door and I, without the least bit of alarm, walk over to my bed and sit down, "Come in," I call.
The door creeks open a bit, "Short man? It's just me, I wanted to talk to ya'." Grandpa says quietly. He slides into the room and softly closes the door behind him. He walks over and sits down on the bed next to me. "Look," he starts, uncomfortably clearing his voice, "what we were talking about out there… I'm sorry it came out like that…" he looked away from me. This almost didn't seem real… Grandpa actually trying to be serious for once. He seemed really uncomfortable… probably secretly wishing Grandma were the one talking to me about this… but somehow I doubt she'd take it seriously enough.
"It's ok," I say, getting up from the bed, "You don't have to apologize."
"I just don't-" he pauses to examine my expression. He takes a deep breath and reluctantly smiles, "Ok, well… I'll have Pookey bring you up some hot chocolate." he walks to the door.
"Thanks Grandpa." I smile awkwardly. He leaves my room just as quietly as he came. I feel weird and uncomfortable… that was probably the first awkward conversation between the two of us that I can remember. Somehow it's sad to me… I guess it must be hard for him to have to explain such crude things to me… his grandson… it would have been so much easier if my parents were still with me… such awkward moments wouldn't occur.
Suddenly I feel resentful and angry… and just want to go to sleep…
Yes, that's right… sleeping it off would be best.
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"Ok, kiddies, hope you all are lookin' forward to three-weeks reports!" yells an overly happy Mr. Reiker.
Groans are an inevitable thing when discussing averages. Is anyone ever really satisfied with their grades?
"Oh, come on… you people worked for these averages, you should be excited!" he says, obviously bordering on sarcasm. "You, Phoebe, should be the most excited of them all." he hands her the progress report. "This young lady can get a 110 and you kids are having trouble reaching a 70? I don't understand it! What am I doing wrong? Tell me, students, how can I help you all to better yourselves?" he asks, crinkling the other progress reports in his fists.
"Teach us better?" says someone in the back row. Notorious for doing absolutely no work and sleeping throughout most of the class period, the boy's comment goes undignified.
"Yes, well… I knew averages this 6 weeks were going to be bad, but this is terrible! It's the end of the first three weeks, people! Are you trying to commit academic suicide?!" he slams his fits on the nearest student's desk, crinkling the progress reports even more. "This is horrible! Atrocious! What is wrong with you?! I ask you to do very little homework, very little book work, and still! Still you insist on failing one of the easiest classes you'll have!" he sighs loudly and shakes his head. "I guess I can't ask much from freshmen…" he says.
"Except for Phoebe," someone comments, under their breath.
"Yes, except for Phoebe." Reiker says, looking the student in the eye, challenging her to another rude comment. I look over to Phoebe who blushes at the sudden popularity of her name in the classroom.
"I guess we can't ask much from a TEACHER with a loony for a son..." comments the unidentifiable boy in the back row, resentful of his last comment being ignored, no doubt. I look to him and see the smug smile spread across his not-so-attractive features.
"Now you watch your mouth, boy!" Reiker suddenly yells, capturing everyone's attention.
"What? This is history class, you've heard of something called free speech, right? You can't do anything to me for a comment I made."
"That's disrespect and I won't have it, you got it?!" Reiker yells in return.
"What are you gonna do, old man?" challenges the kid.
"Shut up, Gary," says the girl in front of him, extremely un-amused... As are the rest of us. The comment is clearly inappropriate.
The bell rings soon after that… and everyone is still a little shocked by what happened in class. As the other students leave the room, I can't help but see more of the connection between Charlie and Mr. Reiker. Trying to lighten up, he walks over to me and says, "Come on, aren't you gonna be late to your next period, son?" he smiles the old yellow-toothed smile and I feel a little at ease.
"Mr. Reiker, can I ask you something?"
"Shoot." he says, leaning on the desk next to mine.
"You know that kid, Charlie? Charlie Reiker? Are you related to him?"
His smile fades.
"The reason I ask is because I'm doing a project with him, you see, and I was just wondering. Are you?"
"Yes." he says, shortly.
"Is he your grandson or something… or maybe your son?" I ask, cautiously. It's a long shot, but perhaps Mr. Reiker is Charlie's REAL father?
"You calling Charlie a loony, boy?" he asks, a bit of humor in his question.
"No… no." I say.
"He's my grandson, yes."
"Grandson? Ok, well, I met his father and I was wondering-"
"Yes?" he looks warningly at me.
"I was wondering what was wrong with him. He doesn't seem… right, and I wanted to know if-"
"You're boarding on inappropriate student-teacher relations, son, I don't believe it's my place to tell you, or yours ,for that matter, to ask."
"It was just a question, I didn't mean anyth-"
He raises his hand as if to take an oath, "Go to your next class, boy, I won't be discussing this any further with you." he walks to his desk. He acts as though I'm invisible as I stare at him. What is it with that family?
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Moment of truth… here I am, at Charlie's front door, yet again. Will I go in. stay out? Run away, as I have before? No… I take a deep breath and reach for the doorknob. Turn it, slowly, I mentally direct myself. I slip in, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. It seems as though each time I come to this house I become less and less courageous. Walk quickly up the stairs and don't look back, I ,again, tell myself. This can be simple, uneventful, if I make that way, I somewhat reassure myself. I sigh… the only reason I'm here is for her. If she weren't a part of this I'd be safely at home right now. I can't, for the life of me, turn away from her now. I have to protect her. I have to save her from something tragic, I rationalize to myself. So here I am, at Charlie's door. I can't turn it yet… I must gather my courage and composure first. I hear speaking in the room. Almost whispering, but loud enough to be heard outside his door. Charlie's deep voice is heard more clearly, though, as he speaks, "…to you now?" is all I can make of his question. Helga must be replying, but her comment is but a mumble through the door. Then Charlie, more forcefully, says, "Don't lie to me!" almost begging… almost pathetically, in a way. "Please…" I hear him ask, sounding as if on the brink of a sob.
I frown, realizing that I'm listening behind the safety of the door. Here, yet another example of my lack of courage. It's pathetic, I know, but I can't go in there yet. What kind of person am I? Not a very good one to be listening to such a disturbingly distressing conversation… and not doing a thing about it.
Purely on an impulse, I quickly turn the doorknob and walk into the room… as if I'd only just then gotten there.
"Oh, hi, Arnold… didn't hear you knock." Charlie says, sounding a bit angry.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know I had to." I reply as if nothing. I look at Helga and smile, almost sympathetically. It's hard, but I must act as if nothing happened yesterday… for her. I can't make this any more uncomfortable for Helga. Wait, why the sudden shift in priorities?
"Hey, Arnoldo," she says in return, sounding obviously unaffected by what happened yesterday… or perhaps it's a cover? Perhaps she merely hides her feelings so well I can't notice?
"Hey, Helga… so, what have I missed so far?" I ask, sitting down next her on Charlie's feathery-soft carpet.
"Nothing really, she and I were discussing the ending and… how it's somewhat ironic." Charlie says, even though it's apparent I wasn't directing my question to him. He looks down at some pieces of notebook paper and shuffles them into a neat stack.
Neatness…
It seems his room has changed since I last saw it. No longer are his belongings in disarray. Neat… everything is so neat… almost too clean in a way… as if there's something to hide… something just below the surface, giving everything an eerie and uneasy calmness to it. Perhaps I'm looking too hard?
"Here, look at this," Charlie says, handing me the stack of notebook paper, "I made some character sketches, read them."
"Let me see," Helga says, grabbing to stack from me.
Our hands…
…touching for a second. In that moment I catch a glimpse of Charlie. He looks knowingly at Helga and I, who simultaneously blush for some reason. I can't describe how odd it was… that moment…
"So what have YOU been doing football head? Have you actually been doing any research or are you just relying on us for that?" Helga sarcastically asks, regaining her bad-girl image. I must say, it was nice to see her blush… a small sign of insecurity… or maybe it was from Charlie's watching her? Suddenly I realize something. Charlie… he's looking at her. All at once, images of the previous day flood into my mind. Is Charlie looking at her like that too? What was he saying to her before I came into the room? A come-on? No…no… I'm getting ahead of myself. I only need to be over-protective when it comes to the father, right? …or do I? What if something DID happened the day I didn't come… but not with the father… with Charlie instead? What if HE hurt her? After all, if his father was looking at her like that… Charlie might too. Like father, like son, no?
Suddenly, an alarming question pops into my head.
Perhaps it's Charlie that is the rapist they speak of on the news?
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Ok, so now you see there's a new rating. I hope that if you're reading this you have an open mind and are mature enough to handle the subject matter. Anyway, I hope you're enjoying the story so far ;D
Tell me what you think