Finding the Lost Journey
Composed By ~*Silver Kitten*~
A/N: Hi there! Thanks to everyone who read/reviewed! I really appreciate any and all comments. As for this story, I'll be honest (well, I'm always honest anyways) The beginning part really was not fun for me to write through…I was suffering from mild writer's block, so I apologize ahead of time if its too boring—however, I really liked from about the middle of this on to the end of this chapter. I hope you like it too ^_^
Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold…if I did, Lila would be in trouble…hehehe….(I'm kidding people, I'm kidding…sorta…)
"Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry
Here's to goodbye tomorrow's gonna come too soon
Put your name on the line
Along with place and time
Want to stay, not to go,
I want to ditch the logical"
Here's to the Night- Eve6
Finding the Lost Journey
Part Three: Reliable Bloodline
~*Arnold's Point of View*~
Suddenly I heard someone scream—none other than Helga, her voice elevated in a terrified manner.
"Helga!" I yelled out while barely hearing myself through the echoes of the scream. "Hang on, I'm coming!" I called to her, and immediately sprinted to where I thought the sound was coming from. But would I get there in time?
I opened the door Mr. Smith left out of and stared down both sides of the hall. To my left, there was light seeping out from beneath a door at the hall's very end.
"Helga!" I called, hoping she'd respond, and she did.
"Arnold! I'm in here!" She'd said, verifying my assumptions. I ran to the end of the hall, took a deep breath and shoved the door open, expecting to see some underhanded villain attacking Helga.
"Helga…Helga, what is it? Where is he?" I asked, my eyes dodging around the room. Helga was curled up on a counter. Apparently, we were in a bathroom. There were three stalls; two of them with broken doors and the one remaining door was badly rusted. The walls were covered with a musty green, chipped paint, with its only accessory a small and cracked mirror. There was a single light above us giving off a dim glow while two frantic moths dawdled around it.
"There, in the corner," she said exuberantly. I turned my attention there and saw a big, dirty grey rat gnawing on a crumb of sorts. It targeted its small, black eyes at me, and I smiled and laughed a little.
"What's so funny!" Helga demanded of me, obviously not understanding why I would be laughing at a rat.
"I'm sorry," I started, taking a peaceful sigh, "I thought you were in serious danger, like someone was after you or something. I don't mean to laugh at you or anything. You just have no idea how much it eases me to know it was only a rat that worried you," I explained diligently, walking over to the rat and shooing it away. It ran back into a hole in the corner. "There, it's gone now,"
"Thanks. I didn't mean to startle you, I just really detest rats," she told me, sliding off the counter. "Trust me, seeing that rat was the only thing that'd ever make me jump up on a filthy counter like this," she said laughingly. I laughed with her.
"Oh, and I didn't mean to walk off like that. It's just that you were sleeping and I really had to use the bathroom," she added. I nodded.
"I understand. It's just…been a strange night. Well, are you finished?"
"Yeah, I'm sure I won't need to go again until we're out of this place," she said.
"What do you say we go and try to get some more sleep then?" I suggested. She smiled wearily and nodded.
"Yes, that sounds like a good idea,"
~*The Next Day—Helga's Point of View*~
I woke up to see a dusty array of light seeping from the row of windows. It was now clear just how unoccupied this place had been. I looked around for Arnold but saw nothing but boxes.
I stood up and at the same time was being wary of rats. It was then I began to hear faint voices discussing things in urgency. I followed the sound out another door that lead to a smaller room with Arnold and Mr. Smith.
"Oh, Sorry Helga," Arnold spoke in a hushed manner now, "I didn't realize you were awake. We have some bad news,"
"You have more bad news? This day is starting off better already," I said sardonically.
"The men after you two last night were not as careful as I anticipated. Another tenant of the apartment had reported hearing gunshots last night. The police came to investigate it, found Arnold's apartment had been broken into, of course it was empty, and they found smeared blood on the windowsill. Now there are several things possible. One, they suspect a murder or an attempted murder, either with Arnold as the victim…or the suspect." Mr. Smith explained.
"Well…what do we do now? Can't we notify the police of what really happened?" I asked.
"Not exactly. This may work to our benefit," he added.
"Our benefit! Arnold is a potential suspect, what good can come of this?"
"As far as I'm concerned with the police, we really shouldn't worry. Technically he's innocent until proven guilty, correct? There isn't enough evidence to support that. In fact, there isn't enough evidence to support anything. But the fact Arnold is gone…could be helpful. The men after you last night will of course be looking for him. They'll be awaiting news reports informing them you've been found for questioning. If we can keep him undercover and unseen, this will help us get you two out of Hillwood free of insecurity. The only problem is Arnold need's his father's journal which is at the Sunset Arms,"
"Well, they'll be looking for Arnold, not me. So I can just go get it,"
"Actually…that's not the best of plans, either," Arnold cut in. I tilted my head in confusion.
"What? Why would they be looking for me? They don't know who I am,"
"They do now. You were mugged last night, remember? You and Arnold reported it to the police. The police knew you were with Arnold last night. Now, both of you are considered missing. It's been all over the news already," Mr. Smith told me.
"I can't believe this…"
"Neither can I," Arnold said. "But what we have to do now is contact my grandparents some how and let them know we're all right. I'm sure they'd understand,"
"There's a pay phone just outside. Why don't you call them…explain as much as you can, discreetly, and ask them to meet us at the small, recreational airport," Mr. Smith said. Arnold nodded and left, leaving Mr. Smith and I in silence.
"So much is depending on Arnold…" he spoke quietly but seriously, grabbing my attention.
"He's the most reliable person in the world," I remarked, smiling to myself.
"Oh? I believe that. He comes from an extremely reliable bloodline,"
"Yeah. I…I really wish he could have known his parents better…" I said remorsefully, thinking back on every October 5th I had experienced, painfully wondering how Arnold was holding up.
"He knows them in his heart. All he has to do is search deep inside of him…that's where his parents are," he explained.
"I'm sorry for your loss, as well. Stella was your sister…"
"Yes, well…our lives may have shortly disconnected due to our choice of career…but someday I know we'll be reunited, somewhere where occupation can't sever our relationships," he said with some hidden gratitude in his voice. I smiled and nodded, reflecting on what he was saying, letting another five minutes pass patiently. Just then Arnold walked in.
"Well, I can't say how relieved my grandparents were to hear we're okay. I told them something imperatively urgent came up, and not to worry. They said they'd meet us at the airport and they'd bring the journal with them. They still don't understand but…then again, neither do I," he said, sighing.
"Very well. We should head out then," Mr. Smith recommended. We set out for the car. It was the middle of the day already, but the drive seemed like an eternity. When we finally arrived it was nearly dusk, and the small airport was nearly vacant.
"Hello, Mr. Smith. Are these the two individuals you called about, yesterday?" A sultry, female voice hollered from across the counter as we walked in.
"Yes, Pricilla, this is Arnold and Helga. I assume the reservations are still in order?"
"Of course. Cyrus is prepping the plane right now. He said he'd come get you when it's ready," The woman said, looking rather awestruck in Mr. Smith's presence.
Arnold looked nervously at his watch. There was a sudden gust of air as the airport entrance doors opened, revealing four relieved and apprehensive faces: Arnold's grandparents along with Phoebe and Gerald.
"I knew it all along. Smith was a spy," Gerald said with pride. The thick burden felt by the room was quickly lightened with small spouts of withheld laughter.
"Your grandfather explained everything he could to us, Arnold, Helga," Phoebe said solemnly, as we shared a hug.
"What happened last night has been all over the news. I wish we could clear everything up. Are you sure you guys leaving is necessary?" Arnold's grandpa had asked.
"Yes…a lot of innocent lives could be at stake here. The notes in my father's journal might lead to a cure for a serious illness used in viral warfare. I wish I didn't have to go in person…but whatever that reason might be, I have to go. I know my parents would do the same thing…and in fact, they did," Arnold explained.
"You're right, Arnold," his grandpa said, handing him a leather journal and then a suitcase, "Well here's the journal, and we have some clothes and necessities for you both in here. Phoebe helped with what Helga could wear," he went on with a chipper smile, as Arnold thankfully accepted both items.
"We just hope you'll be all right and return soon," his grandma mentioned.
"Yeah, you can't miss our wedding. It just wouldn't be right without you two, you know?" Gerald commented.
"We'll be back in no time," Arnold said confidently, looking at Mr. Smith.
"What about these men after you guys?" Gerald inquired, quietly remembering all the news reports he must have heard this morning.
"I'll be handling that," Mr. Smith answered, stepping forward to our close group. "My associates are already working to find out everything they can about whoever exactly is behind all of this. They'll be apprehended sooner than we could hope. We've been waiting for a break like this, but at the same time, I have sincere regret that it had to involve Arnold and now Helga,"
"In my opinion, who better than Arnold and Helga? These two have been a great team, ever since elementary school," Phoebe declared happily. I could feel myself blush.
"It shouldn't be anything we can't handle. After all, we're just delivering information, right?" Arnold spoke calmly, looking at me and flashing a quick smile.
"All right there, Mr. Smith, everything is ready to go," came a husky voice on the verge of drunkenness. Everyone peered over to a tall, lanky man with wild, grey hair and a dirty, unshaven face that held two observing eyes.
"Ah, very good. Arnold and Helga, this is Cyrus. He'll be your pilot," Mr. Smith introduced us. Arnold held his hand out for Cyrus to shake, and I could tell by the expression on his face afterward that he had regretted the kind gesture, and immediately but sneakily wiped his hands off on his pants. I tried not to laugh at that.
It was just heading on eight thirty and I knew it was time for us to depart. Arnold shared two long hugs with his grandparents, a small hug with Phoebe, and his patented secret handshake with Arnold—something that brought back a lot of childhood memories. I then hugged Phoebe like there was no tomorrow, and even got a hug from Arnold's grandparents.
"Well, you take care of yourselves. And watch out for Arnold, I hear he likes to bite," Gerald said jokingly, giving me a friendly hug. I couldn't help but laugh a kind of laughter expressing both humor and nervousness. Arnold just grinned and swallowed his denial.
Arnold and I got in the small plane capable of holding about two more people and some luggage safely, and waved goodbye to our friends and Arnold's family. Mr. Smith came to the door and handed Arnold a slip of paper.
"When you arrive, find the local tavern. There you'll find a man by the name of Duke Channing…or actually, he'll find you two. He'll bring you up to date there," Mr. Smith explained, stepping down from the plane.
"Wait," Arnold exclaimed, leaning forward. "Um, in case I didn't already…I just wanted to thank you…for, well, everything,"
Mr. Smith smiled cordially, tipping his hat at us.
"Anything for family," was all he said, then turning his back to us and meeting up with Arnold's grandparents, Phoebe, and Gerald.
The plane started up almost viciously, and I tightly clamped the arms of the rather wobbly seats. Arnold must have noticed this, as he put his hand lightly over mine as a token of comfort and security.
The plane then began picking up speed over the runway, and soon enough I felt my body slump back in the chair, and the thickness of the air straggled with my lungs as we lifted off into the sky of pale night.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Arnold?" I called. No answer. I couldn't see anything, it was just like that time I was blinded on April Fools day, only this surely was no petty joke. Were my eyes even open? I couldn't tell. I grew frustrated in my lonely blindness. "Arnold!" I raised my voice higher, and its echo rang around me. Soon, thousands of 'Arnolds' were heard, and my balance began to waver.
I was falling. I was falling and yet I could feel that below me was falling apart, shaking hideously. Pieces of the blackness surrounding me burst apart with light fused in the cracks—it was as though I was in a picture frame, falling steadily to the floor and shattering into millions of tiny pieces until the picture was revealed.
"Arnold!" I had found him, standing eerily still in an empty room barely lit with its light source virtually unknown. Then the room wasn't so empty—it began filling with mirrors. I saw Arnold everywhere, with myself behind him, and behind us there was a darkened figure, holding a steely, threatening object in their hand. I screamed with no audible sound coming from me.
A gun fired.
The mirror around us broke apart and it hailed glass with drops of red, staining liquid. Was it blood?
Once the room cleared and returned to blackness, there was a single light with Arnold lying in the center of it. The yellow light around him was disappearing, slowly covered by…blood.
"NO!" I screamed, running towards him but not moving an inch. In fact, he was going farther and farther away with every step I took towards him.
"Come back," I yelled, "Come back! You can't leave me! I love you, Arnold, I love you!"
"Come back!" I shot straight up from my seat, temporarily forgetting where I was. Cyrus turned around with a bemused look on his face and I sunk back into my seat.
"I'm not going anywhere," Arnold told me, smiling and playing along with my outburst.
It had just been a dream. That was all…just a dream.
"Sorry…I guess…I was just having a dream," I explained. Was that all I had spoken out while sleeping? I wouldn't have…I couldn't have said that I loved him…and yet he had a calm, knowing look on his face that I was finding frankly irritating at the moment.
"Don't worry about it. Hey, we just landed. That must have been what woke you up," he said, unbuckling his seat belt.
"I guess so," I said. Soon the engine stopped completely and Cyrus jumped out. Arnold opened the door, grabbed our suitcase and stepped off as well. He then offered his hand to help me off.
"All right, you two, this is where I head off for my own self. I believe the place your pal Smith was talking about is in walking distance. Just go south. You can't miss it," he instructed us, pointing down a dirt road of sorts that seemed to lead way out into the distance.
"That's it? You're just going to leave us here?" I asked.
"I've done everything in my job description. Well, good luck to you both!" he called, walking off back into a small building that was the airport.
"Well…I guess we should get walking then," Arnold presumed, sneering at Cyrus' turned back.
We could tell that morning was approaching soon with an indigo light spreading through the pitch-black night sky. We seemed to be in the middle of nowhere particular, walking a boundless and empty path composed of soil and dust encircled by some sort of field of tall grass.
"There are some moments of this 'vacation' that I find actually enjoyable. But just the same there are moments, like this, where I really dread being here," I said, hoping that as I took another step, some sign of civilization would appear. I heard Arnold laugh lightly.
"You mean there are parts of this you enjoy?" he questioned, not believing me.
"Well…honestly, being with you isn't all that bad…" I said, though I could find no reason inside of me why I would tell him such, besides the fact it was the truth.
"Yeah, I know what you mean…"
"You know, your grandparents didn't seem to react much to Mr. Smith," I mentioned casually.
"Oh…well I haven't told them he's my uncle yet. I didn't want to overwhelm them too much," he told me, and I understood.
"That's understandable. This whole family thing of yours…its quite remarkable," I said as we laughed.
"Do you believe in…fate?" He asked, looking at me when really it felt as though he was trying to look through me.
"What kind of a question is that?" I said laughingly.
"I was just wondering…I mean, I remember that day you left…there was something different about you, and ever since I saw you in Chez Paris I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever caused you to leave caused you to change…I mean you were talking like we'd never see each other again…could you tell me what happened that day?"
Now he'd done it. He wasn't so much prying into my life as I had hoped to accuse him of; because I knew he had some simple right to know—after all, I could only wonder how completely different I must have acted towards him when I said goodbye, so of course the guy would have questions.
We kept walking a steady pace as I tried to formulate an answer to his question.
"Twelve years ago…such a long time ago…I guess I can start from the beginning. My dad had been yelling, as usual, to Miriam. The odd thing about it this time was…Miriam was yelling back. I was up in my room trying not to hear them, but at that point it was impossible not to. Anyways, the yelling got so furious I walked downstairs and saw my mom in tears. I don't think I had ever seen her so wretched looking…and Big Bob, well he looked as gruff as ever.
'You don't know that!' she screamed at him, 'Neither do you!' he yelled back. His temper was at an all time high and then he turned around and saw me. The look of…confusion was on his face. I swear he'd gone mad. 'Dad?' I remember saying to him. And then he spoke so solidly, so below his normal tone of voice… 'Don't call me that,' and he walked by me as if I were nothing."
I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Arnold looked at me intently, and consoling me with his patience that I felt it was okay to continue.
"Well, my mom quickly wiped away her tears and called me over. I don't even remember what her exact words were…I was in too much shock…but, she confessed to having an affair…ten years prior. Which…then brought on another confession…that I might not be…that I might not be Bob's daughter, as she put it. I guess, strange as it is, this outraged him. The next day I even got mixed up in their fight, and he said things I would never repeat. Basically…he wanted me out of the house, out of his sight…forever," I stopped and slid my hand under my eyes so no tears would fall.
"Forever!" Arnold repeated in a state of angered disbelief. "He didn't…"
"He did," I went on, "He kicked me out. Well, he didn't call it that. He made me go to Alaska to live with Olga, so that I might 'refine myself and be like her—the way a daughter should be'…so, you know, why would I care anyways? At the time that was my exact attitude. If he wasn't my father, then I haven't wasted any precious 'quantity' time of mine," I explained, scoffing at my memories of him. "And so…I had no choice really but to leave. I wasn't going to test him, or fight it…I became utterly apathetic and just gave in."
"So…that's why you seemed so…out of it when you called me to meet you in the park…"
"Yep. God, I feel so stupid now," I said.
"Don't feel stupid…if anyone should feel stupid it should be Bob. I can't believe he'd do something so…drastic. He could've talked to your mom more about it, tried working things out…" Arnold said while trying to soothe me.
"He wasn't exactly the 'talk about it' kind of guy, Arnold," I reminded him scornfully.
"What about your mom? Didn't she have a say in whether or not you left or not?"
"Oh please, he had Miriam under his control like she was a slave more than his wife. I've written a few letters now and then…to see how she was doing…"
"And?" he wondered.
"And…I never got a response. My guess is that he wouldn't let her read them. But you know, all of this is in the past now and it doesn't matter,"
"Yes it does, Helga," He said sternly.
"No, it doesn't. What matters is what we're doing right now. We're here to get answers, to help people, to justify your past and your parents." I said before he could say anything else.
"What about justifying your past?"
I was quiet for a moment. I could feel a small inkling of rage burning inside of me, arising from my buried reputation I managed to overcome while in Alaska somehow, although it never truly left.
"Don't you want to know about why your mom did what she did?" he persisted in asking me. I sighed.
"Another time. Look, just ahead, it's a town of some kind," I said hastily. He took his fixation off of me and stared out, seeing the faint lights of the small buildings.
"Okay…another time, then," he said blankly. Inside I felt a sense of relief only Arnold could bring…and that only Arnold could take away.
We continued walking with nothing but the sound of our footsteps behind us as they dug into the ground. We could hear conversation bustling from a specific building when we reached the small town's boundaries.
"I think that's a tavern, and by the looks of it, probably the only tavern in this…sad excuse for a town," I said, and he nodded approvingly.
"I guess we just go in then," he said. Though there was no real door to open, there were boarded shutters that opened with an effort; not quite like in the old west days, but nonetheless it was cliché. I just didn't want to see any bar fights or drunken people wandering around.
We walked around, migrating through the thick crowd of people who wore robes. Some looked more American but even they spoke in some foreign tongue neither Arnold nor I could really understand. There were a few booths in the back where we decided to sit and see if we could spot out anyone, or perhaps we decided to sit there so someone could spot us out. Either way it felt good to sit, even if we were in a place we'd never been before.
"I bet the sun will be up in no time," Arnold stated. I, too, noticed how much the sky lightened, but still was not bright enough for me to consider it morning.
"I've practically lost all sense of time," I laughed. "I hope this Duke guy shows up soon,"
"Me too," Arnold added.
"Ah! The Americans!" we heard a booming voice call, and looked to see a man walking towards us. He was rather built, almost too muscular but that wasn't hid with his body clenching shirt and heavy cargo pants with big, black boots. He was middle-aged, bald and had dark eyes that looked too strictly into mine, and I looked away at once.
"Are you,"—
"Duke, Duke Channing," he interrupted Arnold, sliding into the booth right next to me. I immediately moved away. "And you must be Helga, right?"
"Um, yes,"
"I've been here so long…I've forgotten how beautiful you American woman are," he said. I tried not to blush and looked at Arnold, who had an annoyed look on his face.
"So," Arnold began rashly, "Mr. Smith,"—
"Ah, yes," he interrupted Arnold once again, his sight still remaining heavily on me. "Let's not talk about him, just yet. Come, we will go to my place and have breakfast. You two look simply famished," he said, standing up and offering his hand to me. I wanted to be polite, so I took it and smiled with gratitude.
~*Arnold's Point of View*~
I followed them closely behind. I think he was trying to lose me, but I tried not to let paranoia get the best of me.
The sun was now seen brightly shining in the eastern sky. It's light reflected on the glass table that Duke had on his patio. He pulled up three chairs, setting two of them closer together, and inviting Helga to sit in one of those as he took the next.
"Have a seat, Arnold," he ordered. I sighed, eying him suspiciously as he eyed Helga and sat.
A woman then came out and set out plates of food that seemed to come from all different parts of the world.
"It's a perk of working for a secret service," He exclaimed proudly, as Helga and I admired the selection.
"Yes, about that,"—
"You know, there are a lot of other perks, Helga," He managed to cut me off again and my body tensed up.
"Of course there are, such as explaining what needs to be explained to your cliental when they ask, and fulfilling their needs. Isn't that important?" Helga remarked, interrupting him purposefully as she acknowledged my frustration. My tense body lightened up with surprising delight. She smiled at me when Duke looked away.
"Why, yes!" he said. "Forgive me…I get caught up in some moments too much. As to what Mr. Smith is asking, we leave later this afternoon. I will drive you to where you must go…and you'll meet who you must meet…"
"Isn't that a little…I don't know, vague?" I asked. He huffed as if I insulted him.
"It will all become clear, soon enough," he said to me. I decided to leave it at that.
Within ten minutes of listening to Duke flirt with Helga, I practically lost my appetite.
"I really need a shower," Helga sighed determinedly, "Do you know where I could take one?"
"Why, you can take one here," he stood up, "Cynthia!" he called, and the woman who brought our food returned. "Show Helga here where she might freshen up,"
"Right away, sir," she said, and walked with Helga deeper into the apartment.
"You know, if you want to…clean up a bit, it wouldn't hurt," he said, and I bit my tongue. "I'll show you where you can do that, follow me," he directed. I cursed under my breath and followed him.
~*Helga's Point of View*~
I wrapped the towel around me and opened the door, peeking out. I felt so much better now. I then realized I didn't have anything new to wear.
"Oh!" I heard someone squeak. It was Cynthia. "Mr. Channing brought this dress for you to wear," she said, handing me a peach colored gown.
"For me? He barely knows me. Why is he giving me clothes?" I asked in some kind of defense. She tilted her head and shrugged her shoulders, and then suddenly it looked as if she realized something important.
"Mr. Channing is a…very…um, caring person who loves to lavish people with…gifts!" She exclaimed almost mechanically. Was she trying to say that from memory?
"Oh, well…would you tell him I said thanks?"
"Certainly," she said, bowed her head, and left. I sighed. I didn't really want to wear something a complete stranger suggested I wear, but I had no better idea. I slipped it on and walked out, noticing there were matching sandals. I shrugged and slipped those on as well. I walked back out to the breakfast table and saw Arnold standing in the gleaming sunlight, wearing a loose, white shirt and dark brown pants of…leather? Definitely a new style I hadn't seen him in…but I liked it, and tried not to drool.
"Helga…you look…"
"Peachy?" I filled in for him, laughing. A smile came across his face. Before he could say another word, Duke came in.
"That dress looks astonishing on you, my dear," He commented. I nearly cringed at his words. Seriously…dear?
Either it was the sunlight, or I noticed Arnold's fists tighten.
"Since we won't be leaving until two, we have enough time to sightsee. What do you say?" He inquired. I looked to Arnold for an answer.
"Might as well," he said crossly. A grin came to Duke's face.
"Good, I'll go get the car ready. You two wait here," he said, taking his leave. Arnold walked up to where I was, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.
"You're acting sort of strange," I said blatantly.
"I am? I didn't think you notice with perk-boy goggling all over you," he spat.
"Arnold, are you jealous?"
His face reddened and I couldn't control my smile.
"No, I just don't trust him. This is a very serious issue he isn't taking seriously. Mr. Smith sent us here for a reason, and this guy's talking about sightseeing!"
"I'm only wearing this dress for him, you know. It's not like I'll take it off for him," I laughed, mocking the envy glazed in his eyes that he denied.
Was I flirting with him? Openly?
"I know," he said bashfully, looking away.
"Whatever you say, Football Head," I said, giggling and starting to walk out to the front. I heard a car pull up. Arnold ran in front of me.
"Or maybe you're the one goggling over him," he jested.
"Please, he needs to get over himself," I retorted. We shared a moment of quiet laughter.
"Ahem," Duke came back, clearing his throat. "The car is ready,"
I looked at Arnold who now looked a little feisty. He offered me his arm.
"Ma'lady," he said with an obviously fake accent, his kind gesture was natural and yet mocking in sense of Duke. I laughed and mimicked a curtsy. I saw a flash of envy in Duke's eyes and refused to contain my smile.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
*heavy sigh* End chapter three! Oh look, no cliffhanger this time…I emphasize "this time" hahaha…anyways,
Did you like it? Love it? Hate it? Have any comments? Suggestions? I'd love to hear them…er…read them. Please leave a review…I'm not desperate or anything……*coughIpaymoneycough*…sorry, I think I'm catching a cold…heehee. I'm really bored. I hope you liked this part…sorry the beginning was such a boring, confusing mess to get through.
By the way, if anyone disagrees with what Helga explained happened to her…I'm sorry, I don't actually think that Bob would do something so drastic, but for all intents and purposes it's just for this story, and more will be explained on that subject later on in this story.
And I've never been to Central America…they do have taverns or something, right?? I've tried researching but…my internet frankly sucks…hehe, okay, I'm done talking now…I'm wide awake and its almost 11:30 at night…okay, please review if I didn't scare you off…or even if I did scare you off… ^_^ Take care then,
~*Silver Kitten*~