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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I hear my alarm clock go off… but I can't--no, I refuse--to roll over and turn it off. I don't want to get up, and a part of me thinks that maybe if I don't turn it off, time will stay frozen on 7 AM. No, that's not being realistic, though. Against my own wishes, I lazily turn off the obnoxious alarm… and lay staring up through my skylight. It's not a very bright day… in fact, it's so gloomy it's almost as if mother nature it trying to say something… it's like an omen, some sort of foreboding… telling me--no ordering me--to stay in bed… not to tread into the outside world.
There's a knock at my door. Distinctive, and loud.
"Hey, short man, it's 7, you awake yet?" Grandpa asks. What if I just don't answer him? What if I stay here, pretending to be asleep? What then? But no… I can't do that, so I mumble my usual reply, "Ok, see ya' downstairs for breakfast, then." he says, absently, with a chuckle.
School awaits me, I know… but… but I keep running excuses through my head why I can't go, why I can't get up.
I can't go to school like this… how I am. I'm all mixed up inside… confused… yet relieved… yet this gut-wrenching feeling still threatens to strangle my heart… what is this? How can one feeling feel so wonderful yet so horrible at the same time? Is there a name for such a burden? I sure hope so, I can't stand to feel this way for another day straight… but is there anything I can do about it, really? I'm doomed aren't I…?
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"Hey, man… you look… what's wrong?" Gerald asks, as I meet up with him at the bus stop. He eyes me strangely, as if he's trying to figure it out for himself before I answer. He'll never figure it out, though, that's safe to say. No one could possibly know… do I, even? I could take a guess, and it would probably be right, but do I want to admit it?
"I'm… fine." I say, slowly… obviously unsure of myself.
"Liar. Come on, what's up?" Gerald persists. The bus arrives and I contemplate not getting on. To go to school would mean going to Charlie's, would it not? But I have to go to Charlie's… for her. I can't skip out… no… however uncomfortable I feel, it means nothing when I think about what could happen if I choose not to go. What if I'm overreacting, though?
"Nothing's wrong, I'm just… I'm tired… you know, the usual… not enough sleep." I weakly smile. He narrows his eyes, but drops the subject anyway… for my sake, no doubt. Perhaps he realizes that asking further will get him nowhere.
Oh, the irony…
The same type of persisting questions I pestered her with… the "What happened"s and "please tell me"s… the frustration in her eyes…
Now, Gerald asking me what's wrong… I feel the same kind of frustration she did… I finally understand how hard it was for her to tell me anything. So I stand defiant under this pressure to tell, although I may have resented Helga for a moment for refusing to crack under my questioning. The casual observer might point out the irony here… or perhaps the inconsistency? the fact that I, above everyone, should understand Gerald's desire to know… his desire to help me with what ever brings me down… but I don't.
Or perhaps simply refuse to.
"Hey, Gerald, Arnold." greets Phoebe as she just arrives at the bus stop… alone. It's so unlike her to be almost late for the bus. I look at her questionably for a moment, and without my needing to ask, she answers, "Oh, I know," she blushes and walks over to the bus as the doors open, "I was over at Helga's, it seems she's caught a bit of a cold. Not contagious, though, I'm sure." she says and walks up the steps and over to a bus seat, sitting herself down quietly.
"Really?" I question, following her and sitting down in the bus seat across from her, "I saw her yesterday, she seemed fine to me." I say, almost defiantly.
"Yes, I know. It seems as though it's merely a 24-hour bug… or perhaps this is the start of a new cold?" she asks. For some odd reason I'm fixated on what she said… she knows… She knows what? …that she was fine? That she came to my house? …that she told me everything… well, almost…
"So… she's gonna be out all day, then?" Gerald asks, uncomfortably. Chats with Phoebe are a rare occurrence… especially since his fling with Roxanne started. Phoebe must see it too… that something about the girl that isn't pleasant… that something that just makes her an annoyance. I look at my humble best friend and see the insecurity in his eyes… the uneasiness in his manor. I see him becoming more and more uncomfortable in her presence.
"Yes, most certainly." Phoebe answers, adjusting her glasses.
"Hey, this your lucky day, man!" Gerald says, excitedly patting me on the back. Overcompensation? His enthusiasm his clearly overdone.
"Why is that?" I ask, gaining my composure back. I look to Phoebe in the next bus seat and see… that same uneasiness in her eyes… the eyes of sophistication and wisdom.
"'Cause, man… with Helga home sick you're off the hook!" he smiles, "Don't you get it? With Helga gone you're not obligated to go to Charlie's house." he says, slyly, nudging my side. "Wow, you've been with that guy almost everyday after school," almost being the key word to me, "how does it feel to know you can go home today and not have to think about the guy for once?"
I smile half-heartedly, "Pretty good."
"Hmm, yes. Helga sends her apologies for not being able to work on the project." Phoebe interjects, before Gerald can say anything further.
"Really? Somehow I get the feeling she didn't word it quite like that…" Gerald comments. "So, Phoebe, how have you been?" he smoothly asks her… covering completely for his insecurity... Well, almost.
"Quiet pleasant, actually. Last week I…" Phoebe trials off, but somehow I feel that it's no longer needed for me to listen to them. Instead, I stare out the bus window at the cloudy sky… rain, however beautiful, almost always brings drama along with it… like last night…
Suddenly, the thought of the night before brings an uneasy smile to my face. Helga isn't sick, I know she isn't. why is she staying home? Is it because of me? Is it because of how I acted last night? I was inappropriate wasn't I… she's not an idiot, she probably saw the way I looked at her… how sick is that? Listening to her tell her horrific, however uneventful really, story… and the thing foremost in my mind is… kissing her. Right then, and there… all rain-soaked, and flushed from her rush in the rain to my little boarding house.
"Hey Arnold!" …and I'm broken from my train of thought.
"Huh?" I look around the bus, almost looking as if I'm in a trance.
"We gotta get to class, buddy… come on," Gerald says, looking at me almost sympathetically. I nod and, after taking one last look around at the empty seats, follow Gerald off the bus.
Lunch, to my surprising dismay, came early today... Or at least it feels that way. Not that I don't want to go to lunch, I just don't seem to have the appetite I usually do… and haven't for a while, I realize. Again, just like everyday, I find Gerald sitting at our usual spot… Roxanne by his side. …that annoyingly superficial girl I just don't understand… nor do I want to.
"Hey," I say, sounding exasperated.
"Hey, man," Gerald says, not really paying attention. He sits closely to Roxanne… touching her cheek… slowly, softly… the two of them looking at each other as if they were in love or something. Ha! How could he be in love with her? He's not… he wouldn't…
I sit down nosily, half-hoping I'd disrupt they're little lovey-dovey thing.
"Hi, Arnold," the girl speaks to me.
"Hello Roxanne," I say. Outwardly, I wear an obviously fake smile… Inwardly, I'm gagging at the site of her sloppily chewing her gum and, yet again, taping her finely manicured nails on the plastic surface of the lunch table. Hasn't she heard of manors?
Gerald looks over to me and frowns.
"Is something wrong?" Roxanne asks, almost irritably.
"Nothing at all." I say, continuing this charade.
"Oh, well… I could have sworn you had something up your ass," she comments, giving me a challenging look. The vulgarity of her statement startles me at first, but I slowly sink into a challenging look of my own.
"What?" I finally ask, as she won't stop staring at me.
"Can I talk to you… alone… for a minute?" Gerald asks, standing up abruptly from his seat.
I look questionably at him for a moment, then snap out of it, "Oh, sure."
He looks once more at Roxanne, then walks heatedly toward the doors of the cafeteria… without even looking back to see if I'm indeed following him. He walks outside and over to a large, dead-looking, tree and stops. He turns to face me, angry… upset about something…
"What's wrong?" I ask, almost sounding surprised.
"What's wrong?" he repeats, incredulously, "I'll tell you what's wrong! You treat that girl like crap!" he yells.
I stand there, stupidly wide-eyed, with no answer. I am treating her badly, aren't I? Why? God, what do I really have against her?! Scrambling for an explanation I quickly reply, "I thought you were ok that I didn't like her?"
"Well I'm not. I'm… not." he looks sadly at me.
"I thought that it was ok that I had my own opinions about people, Gerald," I say, almost quoting him on an early conversation between the two of us.
"I didn't say you couldn't have your own opinions… I just…" he takes a deep breath, "Why do you have to be so damn judgmental with her!"
Again, I can't answer… for I don't know, myself, what the answer is. I stand speechless… watching as frustration and anger work themselves into little creases in his forehead and around his brow.
He sighs, "You've changed, Arnold." he says shaking his head.
This upsets me, "Why? Because I form opinions about people now?" I blurt out, using that same excuse.
"No, because you disliked her without even giving her a chance!" he says, and I, although I stand opposing him, can't help but see the validity of his point.
I open my mouth to say something, but I can't… I don't know what to say…
"You're killing me, Arnold…" he continues, turning away from me, "You and everyone else seem to have this preconceived idea that I belong with Phoebe. It's not like that, it just isn't, and the sooner you realize that, the better."
"No one mentioned Phoebe." I point out.
"Do you really have to? I know you, I know what you guys are thinking." he hangs his head.
Softly I begin, "You think that's why I dislike her?"
"Probably." he says, still facing away from me, "That's why you guys have disliked all my other girlfriends, right?"
I frown, shaking my head, "It's your own conscience that's killing you, Gerald, not me." With that, I turn and walk in the opposite direction. Something was off in Gerald… something I think that maybe he should deal with on his own.
I need to some time alone, so I decide to sit by self in the back of the school-yard. As I turn the corner of the cafeteria, I see him. Charlie Reiker, stealing my idea before I even have a chance to go forth with it. He sits alone… staring intently at the cloud-covered sky. He looks at ease, yet sad at the same time and I can't help but feel a little sorry for him.
I walk over and sit down, slowly, next to him. He turns slowly to me, not alarmed at all as to why I suddenly came to join him. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" he asks, lowly, and somewhat nonchalantly.
"Yes, it's really nice." a cold breeze sweeps by us, and I turn to look at him. He's returned his attention to the sky, but has closed his eyes. The wind, icy and chilling and as uncomfortable as it may be, is pleasant to this Charlie Reiker. He, letting it comb through his messy awkward hair, seemingly happy.
"So what are you doing here?" he finally asks, questioning me with something I'm not sure I can answer.
"I needed some ME time," I say, in a not-quite-serious manor.
He says nothing, though, failing to see the humor in my statement.
"Where's Helga?" he asks, seriously.
"At home, or so Phoebe says," I reply, joining his gaze at the clouds.
"Do you know why?" he persists.
"She's sick." I say, almost jealous that he cares.
"I see. Are you coming after school, or is it safe to say that you won't because you now have no one to hide behind?" he asks, lowly.
"Excuse me?" I look at him, questionably.
"I asked if you were coming," he repeats, and I begin to think I imagined the last part of what he said. Did I? Is my mind playing tricks on me now? Is this some kind of self-punishment for being so judgmental with Roxanne?
"I'm not sure… I think I'm going to go visit Helga." I say before I have a chance to think about it clearly.
"That's ok… I think I need some ME time anyway…" he says and looks directly at me. He smiles a bit… I think for the first time since I've known him. I feel strangely satisfied that he got my earlier 'joke' and turned around and used it on me. I'm just simply happy that we finally 'connected' with something.
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I stand motionless in front of Helga's stoop… really not sure whether I should go in or not. I did say I was going to visit her… and curiosity IS getting the best of me, but… what will she say when she sees me? I'm almost certain her absence has SOMETHING to do with me, so why should I make it worse for her? I grit me teeth… Excuses, excuses! I mentally shout. Just go in, I almost order myself. I begin to walk up the stoop then stop. Suddenly the thought of Big Bob answering the door scares me. I back down from the stoop and stand thinking again. I look up at her house…
…and see how it stands out from the rest as an almost bright blue color. I find it funny and almost fitting that this unique house holds one of the most unique people I know. Coincidence?
What if she's upset when she sees me? Wait, when is she NOT upset when she sees me… damn it! Here I go again with the excuses…
I take a deep breath and walk briskly up the steps of the stoop to her front door. I shakily bring my hand up to the doorbell and press it hard, fighting the urge to run away as I wait for someone to answer me.
No one.
No one's answering.
Suddenly a frightening thought pops into my head. What if she's really sick like Phoebe said? What if no one's home with her and she passed out or something? I now stand frantically waiting for someone to show up at the door.
I hear someone fiddling with the lock and I feel a little better. It opens slightly, "Who's there?"
Well, she certainly SOUNDS fine. I don't answer yet, somehow finding it hard to.
"Well?!" she yells opening the door more. When she sees it's me she gasps and closes the door more, "You?! What are you doing here?! Didn't Phoebe tell you I was sick?!" she yells frantically. She forces her self to cough, sounding extremely fake. "See, I'm sick, sick as a dog… now, get out of here!" she says.
"Save it," I say, flatly, "I know you're not sick," I now know my suspensions were, in fact, true.
She says nothing.
"Can I come in?" I ask, placing my hand on her door and pushing it open slightly.
"Eh, why not… my big secret's out anyway," she says sarcastically and moves away from the door. I push it open and walk into her house, closing the door quietly behind me.
She walks to her stairs and pauses at the bottom step just before sneezing loudly.
"Bless you," I say and move to follow her.
"You know, I wasn't completely lying. I think I DID catch something yesterday… walking all that way in the rain." she says, walking up her stairs. "So, what's up, football head? Angry that I can't come with ya' to Charlie's?"
"No, I'm not going today, anyway." I reply following her to her room. I look around her house… at the walls… at the tables… and can't help but see pictures of her sister Olga everywhere. Her family, if it can be called that, angers me almost as much as Charlie's. in Charlie's case, it upsets me that his family would let him live with a father like that… without trying in the least to get him into a better home. But in Helga's case, it angers me that her family believes her to be invisible. They don't seem to care at all… except for Olga, who seems to give Helga too much attention sometimes, and one can't help but wonder if she compensating for her parents lack of affection.
"So, what did I miss today at school?" she asks, almost sounding as if she were a child in early elementary school again.
"Not much. Gerald and I had a disagreement," I say, then pause and wonder why I told her that. She doesn't really care, does she?
"Really?" she raises an eyebrow, "It's not everyday that tall hair boy and you get into a fight."
"It wasn't a fight," I correct her.
"Whatever, you guys still argued." she says and walks over to sit on her bed.
"Yeah but…" she looks at me again, "Ok, so we DID have a fight. He says I've changed."
"You have," she confirms and begins to stare out her window.
"Great, you think I've changed… he thinks I've changed… what have I become, then?" I ask, frustrated.
"I don't know, football head… different." she says, as though she could care less.
Things go silent as I stare at her. She doesn't seem to notice my gaze as she stares longingly out her window. Her hair, in childish pigtails, looks neat now… nothing like the wet mess it was last night. She sits there, unmoved, wearing an over-sized t-shit and pants… trying not to look feminine in the least, and yet she looks…
"Isn't this weather great?" she asks, without looking at me.
I smile… looking at her… and reply, "Beautiful…"
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Wow, there was a lot of dialog in this chapter, but I hope you guys liked it anyway. I'll be getting the next chapter out kind of soon because it's kind of like a second part to this one.