Hey there, everyone! It's pottergal back with the long awaited third chapter. Hope everyone's enjoying it, and here we go! Oh yeah, and in order to get a greater variety of reviews, I've come up with a set of questions for people to answer as they read. Answer for each chapter if you remember, because I want to know what you thought!
Okay, so here's the list.
1) What's your favorite part of the chapter? And why! This doesn't have to be long, and it can be for whatever reason. It made you laugh, cry, etc. etc.
2) What do you think could be improved on in the chapter? If you can't think of anything, you don't have to answer.
3) What do you think is going to happen next? (He, he, I love these ones! You guys come up with the most creative ideas.)
If you want, I'll put this again at the end, since this is sort of a long chapter. Well, that's all for now!
Love forever and ever:
pottergal
PS. Disclaimers STILL apply and I don't own HA!
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A Rainy December
Chapter Three: Grandpa and Arnold
By: pottergal
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Two weeks passed and Christmas time was getting closer by the minute. Decorations had long since popped up everywhere in their neighborhood, with Mr. Green and all the other shop owners going full out with their designs and Christmas lights. That weekend after he'd visited Gerald, Arnold had spent his time decorating the boarding house with his grandparents. They'd bought their tree rather early this year, and all the boarders had contributed to the ornaments. After they'd placed the tree topper on and turned on the lights, Arnold couldn't help glowing from the inside with joy. He loved Christmas to death.
It began snowing as well, blanketing the whole city in a thick white sheet. When Arnold now walked to school in the morning, he wore his boots, his gloves, and about two layers of clothes just to keep from freezing. People starting bringing sleds and saucers to school to play with during recess and lunch, and snow ball fights were common occurrences. Arnold, Sid, and Stinky had creamed a third grade team one day after school, and all of them avoided the fifth graders like the plague. No one wanted to even tempt fate and wind up with their pants full of snow.
So the two weeks had passed, and still the class remained rather empty. Gerald still was hacking and coughing, and only recently had the x-rays shown that he had a mild case of pneumonia. Phoebe, however, was sicker than everyone combined. She was the one with full-blown pneumonia, and no one outside her family was allowed to see her. Much to Arnold's disappointment, there had been no word about Lila. It seemed as though she'd just fallen off the face of the earth, or something.
It was the start of the third week of December, with the end of school for that year rapidly approaching. As Arnold took his seat on the bus, he sighed slightly when he saw Gerald still wasn't there. But then again, his mother had said that her son probably wouldn't be back at school until after the New Year. He'd seen her come to school the other day, like a few other parents, to get homework and make-up assignments for their children. Helga's parents, Arnold noted with a bit of annoyance, hadn't shown up. Didn't they care about their daughter at all? He'd wondered before reminding himself that it wasn't his place to interfere with Helga's home life.
He'd made exceptions before, but generally he tried to leave families alone. After he'd helped, for some reason they just made him . . . well, so . . . jealous when they looked happy. It had wrenched his heart every time he saw parents and their child restored to their previous level of joy, such as Mr. Hyunh and his daughter, or the billionaire and his son, Allen. After he'd get home from those escapades, he'd shut the door to his room and sink down to the floor, sick to his soul with longing for the mother and father he'd never have.
Of course he always did his best to suppress these emotions. Who was he to feel jealous when he should be happy for the things he'd done? So he always shut it away and put on a small smile for all to see and think nothing was bothering him. Normally Arnold was pretty honest about his feelings, but for some reason he could never voice these ones. It filled him with shame sometimes, to think he still was dwelling on a past that he couldn't change, and thus the core of Arnold's emotions remained locked inside.
The bus stopped infront of the school and all the students leaped from the vehicle to make a mad dash for the school. It was bitterly cold outside and few wanted to remain with the stinging wind and the biting iciness. Arnold slipped into the main hall of PS 118 and much to his surprise, he saw Rhonda, Sheena, and Nadine all hovering about a locker. They looked slightly pale, but other than that, they seemed their giggling, normal selves.
I wonder if Harold is back . . . Arnold thought as he went to his locker and dropped off his books. He then proceeded to change his shoes and remove a few of his outer layers. Now that he was inside where it was warm, all the excess clothing was downright stifling.
"Hey, Arnold! Guess who I just saw!" Sid and Stinky came rushing up to him as he picked out a few different books and shut his locker. "Harold is back!"
"I figured as much. I just saw Rhonda and her group." He answered as they started for their classroom. "Any other people you spotted? I know Gerald and Phoebe aren't going to be back until next year, but what about Helga? Or Lila?" He said the redhead's name last; he didn't want to seem too concerned about her . . . at least not infront of Stinky and Sid.
"I reckon I heard Lila's grandma up and died and she and her pa had to head out for her funeral." Stinky said as Sid opened the door to their classroom and shock rippled through Arnold. "Course that's just a rumor, and we've got no way to tell if it's true or not."
"Helga?" Sid practically shouted, stopping any response Arnold had to Stinky's comment. Sure enough, the blonde girl sat in her customary seat, her head resting on her arms, which were folded on top her desk. She was wearing a thick, cream-colored turtleneck sweater and a pair of jeans, which was slightly more surprising than her being there in the first place. Her hair for once wasn't in the pigtails; instead it had been drawn into a small braid with her pink bow tying off the end.
"Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer." She said with her customary smirk and scowl.
"What . . . what happened to you?" Sid stuttered. "Did your mommy quit dressing you?" Helga's scowl deepened as Sid spoke in a sing-song sort of way. "Or did you finally develop some fashion sense?"
"Shut up already, Sid, before I make you eat those words." She growled and Sid shut his mouth with a click. He and Stinky shared a look before slinking off to their seats quickly. She then turned her attention to Arnold, but he smiled gently and watched her scowl falter a bit. "What's so funny, football head?" She sneered and he couldn't stop his smile from widening a little.
"I see you're feeling better." He took his seat beside her and she waved her hand in dismissal.
"I lucked out and only got sick with a little cold. Thanks to my dad's money, I managed to get a decent doctor to look at me and give me the proper medicine to make me well quick." She said before yawning. "I'm still not feeling one hundred percent better, but I felt well enough to drag my butt to school. And after being stuck in that house, anything would be a welcome change."
"Even if you were stuck in the desert, without water?"
"Hey, you haven't been there when Miriam forgets to buy groceries." She said as more people began to file into the classroom, their expressions changing quickly to shock when they saw Helga's new outfit. Arnold smiled a little more and tucked his books away in his desk for now. "Then you may as well be stuck in the desert, hair boy."
"Without water?"
"Without water, football head."
It was nice, believe it or not, to have Helga back at school. For some reason, it had seemed to Arnold that no one was ever going to get any better, what with the reports on Gerald and Phoebe being so negative. Having Helga back gave him hope that they would emerge all right and actually be back after the New Year like their doctors had said they would be.
During recess and lunch, Arnold had remained in doors with Helga and had talked to her about the assignments she'd missed. Mr. Simmons had asked Arnold to tutor her a bit in the math and grammar lessons that she'd been gone for, and he'd been happy to oblige. Arnold would do anything that gave him the excuse not to have to get all bundled up until the end of the day.
As recess and lunch had dragged on, Arnold had found himself happy that Helga was a fast learner. Not once did he have to repeat himself and Helga breezed through pretty much every class assignment in a matter of minutes. It's all the same thing over and over, she'd said when he'd stared at her. What was so hard about finding the pattern and using it?
Mr. Simmons also allowed her to make up several quizzes that she'd missed, and again, she plowed through them like they were nothing. Much to Arnold's amazement, she made few mistakes. Once they were done with everything Mr. Simmons had set aside for her to do, Arnold finally asked what had prompted her to change her style.
"Oh, I don't know, football head. I guess I was just getting sick of pink." She said as she set her papers on Mr. Simmons desk for him. "Mostly it has to do with Christmas coming up and so I got a bunch of new clothes. This outfit is from Olga; she said she thought it'd look just so adorable on me." There was a touch of bitterness to her voice that Arnold couldn't let go of.
"You mean you opened your presents already?" He asked in disbelief.
"Well, duh, football head. Why else would I be wearing this getup?" She snapped slightly. "We never wait until Christmas. Half the time I've snooped and found out long before, and Bob can't ever wait as it gets closer." She sighed a little. "Besides, Christmas is such a superficial holiday anyway. It has no meaning anymore."
"That's not true, Helga." He said defensively and she crossed her arms over her chest.
"So now you're going to feed me the real story behind Christmas with all that junk about family and giving?" She said with her sneer. "Stop wasting your time, football head, and give it a rest. Your little sermons long stopped meaning anything to me, and Christmas hasn't ever been about family for me, nor has it been about giving. That whole tale about the holidays being the happiest time of the year is so surreal that it's sickening."
"How could you say something like that? Christmas is a time for everyone to get together. It is a time of joy, Helga." They engaged in a drawn out staring contest and Helga finally rolled her eyes.
"Maybe for you, Arnoldo, and your lovely little fantasy life, but the rest of us live in the real world." She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "And the most of the real world isn't ever happy during Christmas." With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the classroom, leaving Arnold to his sudden frustrated jumble of thoughts.
"I do not live in a fantasy life." He whispered to the empty classroom, somewhat petulantly, but it didn't mean anything. Helga wasn't there to hear it.
Over the next couple of days, Helga's general outfit returned more to normal, but the pigtails didn't return and she started wearing pants. When Rhonda had asked her why the sudden change in fashion, she'd replied curtly that it was none of her business, but since she was so nosey, it was because her new clothes were warmer. Helga's bullying was back in full force as well, and Arnold found himself wondering why he ever was glad that she'd come back, especially after the fifteenth spitball bounced off the back of his head.
"Helga, would you cut it out?" He finally yelled at her and got a sullen stare.
"What are you talking about, Arnoldo? I'm just sitting here." He snorted softly as their glaring contest continued for a little longer, but he finally sighed angrily and returned to his class work. "Stupid football head, what does he think I've been doing?" He heard her mutter as she went back to her previous activity and he fought another angry glare.
Yes, Helga's torture was back in full force. Younger students found themselves subject to both her pranks and her painfully hard snowballs, and little huddles of second graders could be seen in the hallways; clearly they thought that if they traveled in packs that they'd be less vulnerable. Arnold was having a particularly hard time, being that he was Helga's favorite target. He was pelted with spitballs and snowballs and it seemed like anything Helga could get her hands on, and without Gerald there to tell him to calm down, it really began to get to Arnold. As he rounded a corner of the hallway, he barely avoided being sprayed with a bucket of water and he grit his teeth in frustration.
"HELGA!" He yelled as he looked around for her. "I thought I asked you to . . ." But to his surprise, it was Timberly and a couple of her first grade friends. She blinked up at him in confusion, and Arnold muttered a hasty apology before hurrying away. The last thing he wanted right now was to be roped into a first grader game.
Whap! A snowball came out of nowhere and smacked Arnold in the back of his head, knocking off his hat. He blinked in surprise for a moment, before spinning around in sudden anger to catch his tormenter in the act. However, the hall was completely devoid of all people. Picking up his hat, he put it back on his head and stomped off to his classroom, the place he knew he'd find her.
"Helga!" He shouted for the umpteenth time that day as he threw open the door and stamped into the heated room. All the giggling and conversations stopped as surprised attention shifted to a very angry Arnold, one who had had quite enough of the class bully. The girl blinked at him in confusion; she'd been in the middle of a conversation with Sid and Stinky.
"What's eating you, football head?" She said, a defiant tone to her voice as he glared at her.
"You!" He shouted and Helga blinked a little. "You're driving me crazy with all your stupid, childish, idiotic little pranks! You've hit me with snow and spit and paper, and I'm sick of it!" The snow from the snowball had begun to melt and was slowly dribbling down the back of Arnold's neck; he hadn't bothered to brush it off because he'd been so preoccupied with getting to Helga.
"So? There's nothing you can do about it, football head, so I suggest you just deal with it." She said, scowling at him. He felt his fists clench as his gaze narrowed and she leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "You haven't gotten any proof that it was me, any ways. I've been with Sid and Stinky here all lunch. So how could I have hit you with a snowball? Hm?"
"I know you, Helga, and you did it." He said, his voice lowering an octave with anger. "Who else would do it? No one else seems to have a grudge against me."
"Of course not, you're Mr. Perfect." She quipped and Arnold felt a muscle in his cheek twitch slightly. "Everyone just simply adores you, Arnold. Who in their right mind would want to hit you with a snowball? You, with your wonderful life and the way everything just always happens to go your way. Ever notice that you rarely make mistakes?" He blinked in confusion, her argument throwing him off.
"If this is some stupid . . . bitterness, Helga, why don't you just say something? Why do you have to keep with these stupid tricks?" She glared at him in silence and after a moment, he spoke. "What happened to your nice attitude? Can't you ever be honestly friendly at all?"
"What are you talking about, Arnoldo? Nice is for wimps, people who get the living daylights beat out of them on a daily basis." A small sneer made her lips curl. "People like . . . like you, football head."
"What makes you say that, Helga?" He retorted. "I'm not beat up on a daily basis. And you know what, for all your dumb spitballs and snowballs, you've never laid a finger on me." That one seemed to unnerve her a little, so he decided to press it. "You know what I think, Helga?" She stared at him sullenly. "I think you really can't beat anyone up." Her eyes widened and the class drew a sharp breath. Arnold continued on, undaunted. "Sure, you shake your fist a lot, but I haven't seen you hit anyone."
"You're not with me every waking minute, Arnoldo. How would you know?" She growled and stood slowly to glare down at him. Inwardly, Arnold began to rethink his decision, but the majority of himself forced his resolve to remain firm. "Can't seem to answer that one, can you? I repeat, football head, how would you know?"
"I would've heard something, at least." He kept his voice steady and his gaze cool. Outwardly he looked calm and collected, unfazed by the furious girl scowling at him. But inwardly . . . a small part of him was begging for his life. "All you've done is threaten and wave around 'Ol' Betsy'. Isn't that right, Helga?" He folded his arms over his chest and from the corner of his eye, he watched her fists clench.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I don't?" Arnold said as their gazes locked. "I think that I do. All you've done is wave your fist around."
"Are you going to let him talk to you like that, Helga?" Someone whispered and Arnold didn't put the face to the voice. He was too busy watching Helga's glare darken. "Are you?"
"What proof is there to make me think she'd actually hit me?" Arnold said, glancing around the class for a moment. He then turned his attention back to Helga. "You know, for all these years, I was honestly afraid of you sometimes. But now that I think about it, it's stupid. You've never hurt someone, outside of pester them with stupid little pranks."
"You think so?"
"I do." He said firmly and their gazes narrowed as they glared.
"Really."
"You wouldn't hit me. I know it."
A few hours later, Arnold walked through the snow on his way home to the boarding house, all bundled up in the scarf, the jackets, the boots, the gloves, and the thick beanie. As he walked he kicked absently at small piles to work off some of his frustrations. He couldn't believe she'd actually done it; Helga had actually punched him as hard as she could.
She'd punched him in his stomach, knocking all the wind from him and leaving him dazed for a bit. Everyone had pretty much stayed away from both her and Arnold, fearing Helga and her wrath. No one dared to tell Mr. Simmons, and so she'd gotten off scot-free. But Arnold wasn't about to be a tattletale, because then he'd have to say why she'd punched him, and now that he thought about it, he had given her a very good reason.
I was being a bit of a jerk . . . but still! She didn't have to punch me so hard. He thought and rubbed his middle to comfort the dull ache that still remained. I bet I have a bruise there now, or something. He kicked at another patch of snow. This afternoon, he'd chosen to walk home instead of taking the bus. It took longer, but he didn't have to sit in the same vicinity as Helga that way. He could walk home in peace and quiet.
The loud sound of a siren broke Arnold out of his thoughts. He looked up in time to see an ambulance race past, its lights flashing and its siren blaring as loud as it could. For a moment he wondered where it was headed, but after it faded into the distance, it faded from his thoughts as well. Maybe there was an accident, or maybe a kid had hurt himself doing something stupid. Either way, Arnold didn't give it much thought.
With Christmas drawing closer by the second, Arnold was glad that he'd done his shopping long before the rush. The only person he had left to shop for was Grandpa, but that was because he could never figure out what to get the old man. Everyone else had been easy, but his grandfather changed his mind so many times that he was close to impossible to shop for. Arnold always wound up heading out Christmas Eve and buying the first thing that caught his eye, and almost always it was perfect, so he wasn't that worried.
It's just too bad that everyone's going somewhere this Christmas. All of the boarders had either been invited back home or had booked a romantic vacation with their significant other. Arnold knew that Mr. Potts and his girlfriend Lola were heading back east to visit her parents. Mr. Hyunh had left a couple of days ago with his daughter for California; they were going to meet his parents who were flying in from Vietnam. Arnold also knew that Susie and Oskar were leaving this morning to go and visit Susie's parents, much to Oskar's disappointment. Arnold almost felt sorry for the rat; spending the holidays with in-laws who hated him didn't sound like too much fun.
It was going to seem so . . . empty without the morning traffic jam to the bathroom or the washing machine. All the boarders were going home for the holidays and Arnold couldn't even imagine the house without them. It seemed so cramped and tiny with all the people; what was it going to be like without them? The thought was close to terrifying, as Arnold had never been one to be for big changes.
It's going to be just me . . . Grandma . . . and Grandpa. Part of me can't believe it. He mused quietly as he turned the corner to his street. He kicked absently at another pile of snow, but then a flashing red light caught his eye. His jaw dropped and his heart stopped as he realized where the ambulance had gone; it was parked right out side the boarding house, with several police cars and a fire truck.
Has there been an accident? He wondered as he drew closer to the crowd of onlookers surrounding the cars. But then he noticed something. The door to the boarding house was open.
"Oh no . . ." Fear raced through him in an instant as he began to push his way through the throng of people to get to the front. "Excuse me! I need to get through!" There were several cries of anger and surprise as he elbowed some people or stepped on their toes by accident. "Let me through, that's my house!" He finally made it to the front to see several police officers milling about to keep the crowd in check.
"Excuse me!" He called to the police officer closest.
"Yeah, kid? What da ya want?"
"Can I go inside? It's my house. What happened?" He asked in one breath and the officer blinked at him for a second. "Are Grandma and Grandpa okay?"
"You must be the short man that old guy was talking about."
"My name is Arnold." He said, but the officer ignored him.
"Hey, Murphy! It's the kid that lives with them! Can I let him in?" He called to another officer, one who was standing infront of the open door. He looked from the officer Arnold had spoken to and then to Arnold before shaking his head slightly.
"They'll be coming out in a second, so don't bother." Arnold couldn't help the glare that formed.
"But this is my house!"
"We can't have you getting in the way of the paramedics, kid, so you're just going to have to tough it." Murphy said before turning around to look inside the house. Arnold glared at the back of his head before looking at the first officer he'd spoken to.
"Can't you at least tell me what happened?" He asked with a note of plea in his voice and the officer nodded after a moment.
"You know old people are frail. One of them collapsed." The officer said simply and then moved to join his buddies. Arnold's eyes got as big as saucers; his grandparents were definitely not frail. Grandpa was strong as an ox while Grandma . . . Grandma was in a league of her own. She certainly wasn't normal in any way, shape or form, and she was even stronger than Grandpa was.
"Get everyone back! They're coming out!" All of the police officers converged on the crowd, pushing them back to ensure a clear path to the ambulance. Several paramedics came from inside the house and Arnold peered around the officer infront of him to see what was going on. After a moment, there was a grinding sound and soon he saw two paramedics walking down the steps from his house slowly, a stretcher between them.
"Grandpa!" Arnold shouted and pushed past the officers to get to his grandfather's side. Another arm stopped him just before he reached him, and he looked up to see a paramedic frowning down at him. "What's happened? Why is he on the stretcher?" Arnold demanded, his heart pounding in fear. He struggled to keep himself calm, but he couldn't help his voice from sounding slightly hysterical.
"The old man collapsed. We're taking him to the hospital as we speak and we're going to run some tests to figure out what's wrong with him." The medic said calmly and pressed his hand firmly against Arnold's shoulder. "I can't have you running up to him just yet. We need to get him into the ambulance." Arnold watched helplessly as the men pushed his grandfather past.
He looks . . . drugged . . . Arnold bit his lip in worry as he looked at Grandpa's face. His eyes were distant and glazed and they'd hooked him up to some kind of breathing apparatus. It magnified his breathing such that he sounded raspy and harsh. The men got him to the ambulance and a woman hopped out. She helped the man in front push the stretcher into the vehicle, the wheels folding up as they pushed it in.
"Will he be okay?" Arnold asked in a small voice and the paramedic squeezed his shoulder gently.
"I'm sure he'll be fine, kid. There's your grandma." Arnold tore his gaze from the depressing sight of his grandfather and saw his grandmother come to the door. For the first time in his entire life, Arnold saw her face look slightly frightened. The medic finally let go of his shoulder, and he raced up to her. The two met in a tight embrace and Arnold clung to her as tightly as he could.
"Grandma, what happened? Why'd he collapse?" He asked, but she didn't answer. She gave him one final squeeze before standing up to address the medic who'd walked up. Arnold slipped his hand into hers and he looked from her determined expression to the medic.
"Are you at least going to tell us where you're taking him?" She demanded in the sanest voice he'd heard out of her in a while. The medic nodded and handed her a piece of paper with an address and directions on it.
"This is the hospital. You're welcome to follow us if you want, but you won't be allowed to see him until he's been moved out of emergency." The paramedic said before nodding at both Grandma and Arnold and then walked back down the steps. He hopped into the passenger's side of the ambulance, which took off after a moment. The crowd, seeing that the show was over, slowly dispersed, leaving a few friends to express their condolences. Arnold barely heard any of them.
"Come on, Arnold." He looked up at his grandmother to see her tight-lipped expression relax slightly into a small smile. "Let's get the house tidied up a bit and then we'll go hunt down your grandfather." She led him gently into the house and shut the door with a small click, never once dropping his hand. Once the door was shut, she knelt slightly and drew him into another firm hug.
"I know this is quite a shock, Kimba." She said gently as he pressed his face to her bony shoulder and she then began to stroke his hair. "But you're a strong boy. Things will turn out just fine; I'm sure of it." He nodded silently and felt tears begin to sting the corner of his eyes. A horrible thought had just crossed his mind; what if they lost him? What if they lost Grandpa?
"You think Grandpa will be okay?" He whispered as he squeezed his eyes shut and felt his grandmother's hold on him tighten.
"You really depend on us a lot, don't you, Arnold." She said softly and he didn't answer. He was fighting the lump in his throat and the pricking sensation in his eyes. "Don't you worry one bit, Arnold. I'm sure Phil will be fine. He's always been a fighter, and he's always been strong. He won't let something like this hurt him." She said firmly and brought Arnold to look at her. She smiled and touched him under his chin.
"I know you're right, Grandma." He tried to smile back and she wiped away the few tears that had escaped his eyes with her thin fingers. "I know you're right."
"Good. Now let's get going, shall we?"
Arnold and Grandma spent the rest of the afternoon at the city hospital, asking the nurses if an old man had been moved from emergency at any recent time. They finally found someone who seemed to know anything, and she took them to a doctor who'd just got done dealing with Grandpa. The nurse left them and then the doctor led them to the room they'd put him in. Arnold almost couldn't walk in. He'd always hated hospitals with their sterile smell and people hooked up to machines, depending on them for their very lives. It frightened him to think that one day he might be that old and have to deal with tubes and wires and machines every single day.
"Arnold," his grandmother had said as they had walked to the room, "don't ever let me get like this. If I get too old to say anything, just put me out of my misery." He'd taken her hand again. "This isn't living at all." She'd whispered as they walked past a particularly old man who couldn't even sit up on his own.
"Grandma, please don't talk like that." She'd squeezed his hand, but never brought up the subject again.
Inside the room, they found Grandpa lying on a hospital bed, an IV in his arm connected to a fluid bag that hung above his head. He was unconscious, and the doctor explained that they'd given him a sedative while they'd run some tests. No bones were broken, as far as they could tell, and they had the lab running blood tests as they spoke. The doctor had just been about to go and examine the x-rays they'd taken, but she had wanted to show them to his room first.
"I'll be back soon with some results, okay?" The doctor said before smiling and walking from the room, leaving them alone with Grandpa. Arnold watched Grandma pull up a chair and sit down beside him, her expression worried. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it, but there was no response from him.
He hardly seems alive . . . Arnold thought with dread, his body wanting to flee from the sight before him. Not once had he seen his grandfather this . . . this vulnerable. He lay out silently, the sheet moving up and down slowly as he breathed.
"Now don't you worry one bit, Arnold." His grandmother held out her other hand to him and gestured for him to come closer. He inched forward reluctantly, drawing closer to the bed. He finally came up beside her and took her outstretched hand. "Phil is going to be just fine; he's strong as an ox, after all." She dropped his hand to slip it around his waist and pulled him into sort of a half hug.
"I know, Grandma." He said in a faint voice as he put his arm around her shoulder. Her hand tightened around him for a moment and he squeezed her shoulder in return. "I know you're right, Grandma. Grandpa is going to be fine. Just fine."
The next day, Arnold arrived early to school. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes, his clothing looked rather rumpled, and his hair looked only slightly combed. Truth be told, he'd spent the night at the hospital with Grandma as they'd waited for some news about his grandfather. The doctor had come back after a while and had told them that they needed to take some more x-rays, and by the time the doctor's shift was over, she'd been able to tell them that Phil had a mild case of pneumonia. She hadn't been surprised by this information; after all, she recalled that many people seemed to have it at that moment.
So Grandpa has pneumonia. They'd given him some medicine by adding it into his IV bag, but they'd said that they were going to need to keep him in the hospital since he was so old. Much to Arnold's surprise, Grandma hadn't objected. When he'd asked her about it, she said that she knew little about caring for truly sick people. She'd then decided to stay in the hospital with her husband, and since Arnold didn't want to go back to an empty boarding house, he elected to stay as well.
However, the amount of sleep that he'd gotten was minimal. The hum of the strange building combined with other unfamiliar creaks and the coughs of other patients had kept him up well into the wee hours of the morning. The more time that passed, the more Arnold came to hate hospitals. He didn't hate the good that they did, but the whole internal atmosphere scared him.
Since he'd gotten to school early, Arnold was of course the first one in the classroom. He turned on the heater before sitting down at his desk and putting his head down. In a matter of minutes he was fast asleep and he didn't awake until someone started shaking him. He bolted upright to see Mr. Simmons looking at him in concern.
"Did something happen, Arnold? You're never here this early." He asked in that compassionate voice of his and Arnold tried his best to smile. What good would it do, worrying people?
"I'm okay. My grandpa collapsed yesterday and so me and Grandma spent the night in the hospital with him. I can't sleep very well in a strange place, so I obviously I didn't sleep much in the hospital." Mr. Simmons nodded slowly and gently touched his shoulder.
"If you need to go home, I understand completely, Arnold. I know how hard it is to have some one you care for a lot in the hospital." And with those words, he turned and began to prepare his lessons for the day. Arnold watched him for a moment, but it wasn't long until he was asleep again and the bell was ringing, signaling the start of school.
Surprisingly enough, to Arnold anyway, the entire day was one big giant blur. He couldn't remember anything noteworthy about it, besides the fact that everyone seemed to be avoiding him, but that could also have to do with the fact that he wasn't talking to anyone. He remembered Sid and Stinky had tried to come up to him, but had walked in the opposite direction when they'd seen his expression. Every part of him must've been screaming 'leave me alone', he thought. Why else would people avoid him like the plague?
Once the school day was finally out, and there was only one day left until Christmas Break, Arnold decided to walk over to Gerald's house and see how he was doing. He hadn't brought over the homework in a while, since Gerald's mother had been coming to do that. But there was nothing wrong with a little visit, was there?
He reached Gerald's house and rang the doorbell. Gerald's mother opened the door and had blinked when she saw Arnold. She invited him in and made him a cup of hot chocolate before asking him what was wrong. Arnold re-told his story for the second time that day as he sipped the delicious cocoa; he couldn't remember if he'd eaten anything today or not. Once he finished, Gerald's mother sent him upstairs to visit.
"Hey, man, long time no see!" Gerald greeted him and they did their handshake. "You look awful. What happened? Helga came back and started picking on you again?" He asked as Arnold pulled up a chair and sat down.
"Well, she did, but that's not what's wrong." Arnold drew a deep breath and prepared to tell his story again. He could begin to understand why people could get sick of a question. "My grandpa collapsed yesterday, so we spent the night in the hospital. You know how much I hate them, so I didn't sleep much." Gerald whistled softly.
"He . . . collapsed? Man, your grandpa is usually strong as a bull. What happened?"
"The doctors say he's got pneumonia, even if it's only mild." Arnold said as he rubbed his eyes and rested his chin in his hands. His head was starting to pound for some reason; it must be from lack of sleep, he told himself. "I don't know, Gerald. It was scary to go there and see him like that."
"I understand, man. Nobody likes to be reminded of the less pretty things of life." Gerald said and Arnold smiled a bit. "So what else is going on? You haven't been by in a while. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me, or that my mom had banished you from our house."
"Actually it's more of the second one. She didn't want me getting sick, but she made an exception today, seeing as how you're sounding better than ever." Arnold said and Gerald nodded with a grin.
"Yeah, the medicine is finally starting to kick in. I feel better today than I have in a while. And I've finally stopped hacking."
Their conversation continued on for a while longer before Gerald's mom came in and politely kicked Arnold out. Of course he understood completely; Gerald still wasn't one hundred percent better just yet. So he said good-bye to Gerald and Timberly, who'd popped up after a while, and thanked Gerald's mother a second time for the hot chocolate before leaving.
As he walked down the streets back to the boarding house, Arnold felt as though his head had been wrapped in some strange bubble. All the sounds he heard were oddly muffled and sluggish, and things seemed to be moving in strange ways. Once he thought he saw a truck drive into a building, but upon closer inspection, it had just turned a corner.
Man, what is with me today? I can't seem to focus. He thought as he shook his head a bit. He stopped to look at his reflection in a storefront window and was surprised at how haunted and drawn his expression was. His eyes were wide and dark, with a look that did indeed say 'leave me alone'. Now he understood why people had been avoiding him; no one had been sure if he'd break down and start screaming at all of them.
Is Grandpa being in the hospital really affecting me that much? He wondered as his expression wavered slightly and he had to reach out and touch the window to steady himself. His hand balled into a fist and he pressed his forehead against it, his eyes squeezed shut. He drew a few deep breaths to get himself under control before he could open his eyes again and continue walking.
"Lord, what is wrong with me?" He muttered as he rubbed at his eyes and turned a corner, only to be knocked backwards as he ran into another person. He lay on his back, stunned for a moment, but a familiar voice rang out and he pushed himself up slowly.
"Ouch, watch where you're going next time!" Helga's voice snapped as she too pushed herself up onto her elbows. "Why were you in such a hurry . . ." She trailed off as she noticed who she'd run into. "I should've known; I never seem to hit anyone else, do I?" He heard her mutter and they struggled to their feet. "What's the rush, football head? Off to bed, or something?"
"Leave me alone, Helga." He retorted with a bit more animosity and hostility than he'd intended. "I'm not in the mood for your dumb attitude right now." He brushed off the snow before pushing past her. There was a moment of silence on her part as he walked away, but she called out to him and he stopped.
"Arnold!" She used his real name, which always made him stop dead. He turned to her slowly to see a concerned expression on her face. "I . . . I thought I should apologize for yesterday." She said as she took a small step towards him. "I . . . I really shouldn't have punched you. I . . . I just lost my cool and . . . well, you know the rest." She said as she rubbed the back of her arm nervously. He drew a deep breath and part of him felt better. That little incident must have been bothering him more than he'd realized.
"I forgive you, Helga. I shouldn't have been egging you on in the first place. I can understand why you did it, even if I do have a bruise there now." He joked weakly and watched her eyes grow wide.
"You do?" She squeaked and he shrugged.
"I haven't been home to check, so I wouldn't know. I spent last night in the hospital." She took another step closer to him and Arnold prepared himself to tell his story again. "You see . . ."
"It's okay, I know what happened. Mr. Simmons told me." Arnold blinked. "I asked why he was letting you nod off today during his lesson and he explained the whole situation." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Frankly, Arnoldo, I'm surprised you even showed up today. I certainly wouldn't have."
"That's you, Helga. You're not me." She rolled her eyes.
"Well that's obvious." She started talking about something, but Arnold found himself drifting away. He couldn't help it, but her voice slowly solidified into one long tone with no distinction between the words. Everything began to waver for the second time that day, Helga's image before him splitting to three or four different Helgas. Arnold felt as though everything around him had suddenly begun spinning, or that he'd been put on a merry-go-round whirling at top speeds.
"ARNOLD!" Helga's surprised shriek was the last thing he heard as everything went black.
*~*~*
Ooh, don't you just love me? What a place for a cliffhanger. What's going to happen to Grandpa, and especially, Arnold?? Well, you're just going to have to wait for the fourth chapter! Thanks to everyone who had been reviewing and don't worry stormqueen, I'll answer all your e mail questions soon! You see, the big problem with my e-mail is I can get them, but most of the time I can't reply, so I answer then via my updates. So if you sent me a question and it hasn't been answered yet, I'm sorry! I will answer soon!
Love forever and ever:
pottergal
PS. Don't forget the questions when you review!
1) What's your favorite part of the chapter? And why! This doesn't have to be long, and it can be for whatever reason. It made you laugh, cry, etc. etc.
2) What do you think could be improved on in the chapter? If you can't think of anything, you don't have to answer.
3) What do you think is going to happen next? (He, he, I love these ones! You guys come up with the most creative ideas.)
