A/N: Well, after waiting for two and a half years, I have finally read Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and, I admit it, I cried. Now life moves on, and so does the story, but first I would like to gripe about something (Festivous in June, it is time to air my grievances). Why, if the movie Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (which is my favorite book of the first four, I am still not sure how I feel about the fifth book. I need to give it time to sink in and read it over) is done, why do we have to wait until next June?! (Actually, I do know the answer, at least I think I do, and it is really gay. I am pisspleased at Warner Brothers, and they better resign the actors. I don't want them to recast.) I love having it in November because my b-day's then and I am so excited for it, the movie, Christmas, Christmas Break, New Years, the whole thing. But I suppose having it in June is another reason for me too not only look forward to the end of school, but also this time next year I will be a senior. Uh, that's scary. Oh well, I am done ranting and here is Chapter 13, inspired by the band Mest's song, "Back to the Drawing Board," and I will be seeing them in concert at the Vans Warp Tour tomorrow. Hella hella cool!
Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold!, but I am the proud owner of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. If you haven't read it or any of the other books, go out and get you one (of course, after you read this chapter).
Where to Begin
Chapter 13 – Back to the Drawling Board
"You should have seen us. I am telling you, we were the best."
Arnold rolled his eyes as Helga bragged to Gerald and Phoebe about their presentation. Arnold picked at his lunch as Helga continued. He could not help but notice a lot of guys were staring at her. She, however, was not aware of how much her presence in the cafeteria mattered to the male population of West Hillwood High.
"Right, Arnold?"
"Huh? Oh, right."
She gave him a weird look, but continued on without much concern for his current mood. "Yep, we are sure to get an A thanks to my hard work."
"Excuse me? Your hard work? Helga, you spent a day on the project. I had been looking up information and making notes and working on the power point all week," he said darkly.
"No," she hissed. "Two days. I worked a bit on Saturday," she said as she ate a carrot stick.
"When did you find time to work on it on Saturday?"
"I had time."
"When? You were at my house the entire morning before you went to basketball practice and pageant practice. Then we went shopping, then the basketball game, then you went to Alexis's party, then you talked to your parents, then you came over to my house."
"Wait, why was Helga at your house yesterday before her b-ball practice?" Gerald asked, suddenly very interested in their argument.
"Don't ask," was all Arnold said.
"I worked on it when I got home," Helga said matter-of-factly, eating another carrot stick.
"Didn't you have to work from six to twelve yesterday morning?"
"Yeah."
"But it was like two thirty when you left my house."
"So I didn't sleep," Helga said, and neither noticed Phoebe's and Gerald's raised eyebrows.
"You didn't sleep? Helga, you were exhausted Friday. Don't you think you should do something about that?"
"Arnold, don't act like you are my mother."
"Well, somebody needs to!"
"What were you doing at his house at two thirty in the morning?" Gerald asked, this time a little more demanding.
"Don't ask!" they snapped. Gerald and Phoebe exchanged glances.
Arnold crossed his arms. "See, it was Sunday morning, not Saturday night."
"It was too Saturday night, at least for non-dorks who stay out past midnight, unlike you."
"I am not a dork. Technically it was Sunday morning, so technically you only spent one day on it."
Helga just growled at him and looked as if she was seconds from strangling him.
"Jeez, you two sound like an old married couple," Gerald said in a very annoyed voice as he dipped a French fry in his ketchup dish.
"Do not!" they cried in unison. They exchanged looks and blushed.
"Uh, Helga, how was the game yesterday?" Phoebe asked, trying to change the subject.
Helga smirked as Arnold and Gerald suddenly became very interested in their food. "Why don't you ask Football Head or Hair Boy?"
"What happened?"
"Me and Stinky wiped the pavement with these two guys. Isn't that right, boys?" Her smile brightened.
"It was snowing. Arnold and I don't play well when it is snowing," Gerald said as he poked his burger.
"Right. You can't play when it's snowing, or raining, or sunny, or partly cloudy, or –" she began counting her fingers.
"Yeah, yeah, we know. We suck," Gerald interrupted.
"I wouldn't say that. It's too mean," she said, winking at Gerald. "And we all know that I am not mean."
Arnold rolled his eyes, and Gerald snorted loudly.
She grabbed her last carrot stick. "No, you are just plain bad."
"Thanks, Helga," Arnold said blandly. He flicked a grape at her.
"Oh, boy, you don't even want to start that." She got her ammo ready with a large spoonful of chocolate pudding aimed directly at Arnold's favorite white t-shirt.
"Ready when you are." He grabbed Gerald's ketchup.
"Uh, Helga, have you decided what you are going to sing for the pageant?" Phoebe asked slowly.
"Not now, Pheebs. I'm busy." Helga and Arnold glared at each other, unmoving, for a minute. They suddenly cracked up and laughed a good deal, leaving Phoebe and Gerald very confused, but, then again, they were used to it by now.
"What were you saying?" Helga asked between gasps.
"Have you decided on a song to sing for the pageant?" she asked again.
Helga's face fell. "Aw, crap. I was supposed to have that picked by today."
"We can help you, Helga," Phoebe said joyfully. Gerald groaned loudly, and Phoebe kicked him underneath the table. "What do you have in mind?"
"Nothin'. I don't have a clue," she said as she flicked the grape back at Arnold. He glared at her.
"Well, what song do you like to sing? What do you want to listen to right now?"
Helga raised an eyebrow and smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. "Well, actually, I would like to sing a song, and I am going to dedicate it to one of the most inspiring people in my life, Arnold." She hugged him tightly, and Arnold prayed for a quick death, because he had a feeling he would die of embarrassment shortly. "Another day is going by. I'm thinking about you all the time, but you're out there, and I'm here waiting. And I wrote this letter in my head cause so many things were left unsaid. But now you're gone, and I can't think straight. This could be the one last chance to make you understand. And I just can't let you leave me once again. I'd do anything just to hold you in my arms, to try to make you laugh. Somehow I can't put you in the past. I'd do anything, just to fall asleep with you. Will you remember me? Cause I know I won't forget you."
Helga, Gerald, and Phoebe burst out laughing as she stopped serenading him, and Arnold managed to force himself to laugh. It was funny, but it hit way to close to home.
"Maybe something else," Phoebe said after she stopped laughing.
Helga threw her hands in the air. "Jeremiah was a bullfrog."
"Was a good friend of mine," Phoebe finished.
"I never understood a single word he said," Helga sang a little louder.
"But I helped him drink his wine."
"And he had some mighty fine wine," they sang together. "Singin' joy to the world, to all the boys and girls. Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea. Joy to you and me."
Arnold and Gerald watched the two giggle uncontrollably. They watched in horror as the rest of the lunchroom turned to their table to see what Helga would sing next. She stood up on her chair and used her fork as a microphone. Arnold had never seen Helga be this outgoing in front of such a large group of her peers.
"Just because I walk like Obi-Wan Kenobi, you people talk, but you don't even know me. But that's all right, because I get down with GC, so I walk on and listen to their CD. Some people laugh, they do it just to spite me, behind my back, they don't know what I see. But I don't care what they say. I don't need them any way. I just go about my way, but anyway. You go out on Friday night, I'll stay in but that's all right cause I have found a clique to call my own. In crowd, out crowd, I don't care. Your crowd, my crowd, we can't share cause I have found a clique to call my own."
To his surprise, the whole cafeteria went crazy. Helga, just as surprised, wasted no time in pleasing her audience as she quickly changed songs. "I don't want to sit next to you. I can't believe you called me so soon. Don't try to justify what you did to me. Your just one of those troubled boys, using me for everything but love. Don't make excuses for what you did to me. You kissed me, then dissed me, but now you say you miss me, and you used me, confused me, but you don't want to lose me. Don't talk to me, don't acknowledge me anymore, I'm just another score."
It seemed everyone was clapping as the bell rang, and everyone went back to class. "Thank you, thank you. You are a beautiful audience!" Helga was not finished, and she and Phoebe were singing at the top of their lungs, "I'm bouncin' off the walls again. Whoa. I'm looking like a fool again. Whoa. Threw away my reputation, one more song for the radio station!"
"Well, that was an interesting lunch, don't cha think?" Gerald asked as he threw his trash away.
"That's one way of putting it," Arnold said.
"Later," Gerald said as he went in the opposite direction. Arnold walked to class, his brain feeling a lot like mush. It all seemed like too much to take in. However, he had to admit it was entertaining.
A few minutes later, Arnold was gloomily sitting in the drawing room. He was behind in his projects due to using two class periods the week before to study for his trigonometry and Chemistry II tests. As a result, he had to use today's study hall to catch up. It was not that he did not like to draw; he actually loved it. The problem lied in his teacher, Mrs. Douglas.
Mrs. Douglas was, for lack of a better term, completely crazy. Every student in the school knew why (let's just say she greatly enjoyed the seventies and eighties and was now without many of her brain cells) and prayed they got her because she hardly knew what was going on and was a very easy teacher. Arnold, on the other hand, thoroughly disliked her because she, for some reason unknown to him, had taken a great liking to him and suffocated him with attention during class on a regular basis. She also seemed to think he was the most talented student she had, which though Arnold was rather good, there were many others who were far more talented than him and hated him because he got more attention. Needless to say, Arnold had few friends in his normal class, and by the looks he was getting he had even fewer in here.
Arnold rolled his eyes and spun a coin on his desk. He had chosen one that was far away from Mrs. Douglas and the rest of the students. His head throbbed and he could not stop thinking about what had happened Saturday night . . .
"Arnold? Arnold? Oh good, you are in there," Mrs. Douglas said as Arnold finally abandoned his current thoughts and looked up at her. Her gray eyes looked like dusty marbles behind her thin silver glasses. She placed a large piece of paper, several different pencils with different leads, a pencil sharpener, and a kneaded eraser in front of him. He blushed deeply as he received a fresh dose of death glares from students who had not been delivered their supplies, which was everyone else. "You're doing the same as the rest of the class." She lowered her voice. "And by that I purely mean the same assignment. Your skills are far superior to theirs."
"Er, thanks," he muttered. Normally the teacher would leave, but she remained where she was, her eyes anxiously awaiting Arnold's first line on the paper. "Uh, Mrs. Douglas, I was wondering if I could work alone so that I can concentrate more and –"
"Create an even more amazing masterpiece," she said, her voice rising towards the end. A noise escaped her, and Arnold wondered if she was going to burst into tears right then and there. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?" She shook her head violently. Arnold, who would be worried if it was anyone else, watched the whole thing with a bored expression. "I'll leave you to your work." She stared at him for a while, and he was afraid that she might hug him. She finally walked away, her thin hand covering her mouth to stifle her sobs.
Arnold sighed and stared at the blank sheet in front of him. The assignment was simple: draw a face, any face that came to mind, and draw it in proportion, meaning the eyes were in the middle of the skull, the ears started in line with the eyes, etc. He picked up a pencil and drew an outline of the head and put the pencil back down. He was not in the mood to do this, and he was amazed to see how grumpy he was acting when just a few moments ago he was laughing with Helga . . .
He picked up the pencil again and began to draw furiously, but he was not paying attention to the drawing. His thoughts were elsewhere: the game tomorrow against their biggest rival, East Hillwood High, how he could raise his chemistry grade form the current C to a B, more effective routes to take between classes to avoid Lila, and Rhonda for that matter.
Eventually his thoughts settled on a subject that he was trying not to think about. Ever since he admitted to himself that he had feelings for Helga he had been trying desperately to think about her as little as possible, but that task was made even more difficult by the weekend's events and their project. She was a far too big part of his life for him not to dwell on her. And at the moment she seemed to need him more than ever.
He remembered their conversation about Jeff on Saturday night. He had heard people talking about it in the hallways and who had naturally evolved the story so that Jeff had been arrested for attempting to rape Helga. Of course, he had not been hulled off until after his trip to the ER to repair his massive head injury from Jake hitting him in the head several times with a piano bench. Speaking of Jake, what kind of a guy lets this happen? If Helga was his girlfriend he would never let her out of his sight. . .
Arnold started to draw a pair of wide, dark eyes as he allowed himself to linger on such a happy thought, Helga as his girlfriend. It was funny, in a not very funny way, for the longest time he only thought Lila would be a perfect fit for him, though he had had many other crushes over the years (though Lila might qualify as an obsession. He pushed that out of his head). But the more he thought about it, Helga just seemed right for him. He could not put his finger on just why, but it seemed natural, Arnold and Helga, Helga and Arnold . . .
He finished the small nose and the thin, clean eyebrows and sketched the ears, which were slightly smaller than one would expect, not that it mattered much since the chin length hair would cover it. Jake probably loved Helga's new hairstyle and new look. He would never try to really get to know her and see how amazing and beautiful she was on the inside, far more than on the outside, and that was saying something. No, Jake just to get in Helga's pants. Jake and Helga, Helga and Jake . . . it sounded nowhere near as right as Arnold and Helga, Helga and Arnold . . .
He drew the full lips. Yeah, it should be Helga and me, after all I was her first kiss, he thought, remembering the play long, long ago. At least I am pretty sure I was. Wow, that was a long time ago . . . I am not implying that everyone will end up with their first kiss, but that's still on up on Jake . . . yes, Helga and Arnold, his perfect Helga . . .
"My stars, Arnold, this is amazing!"
"Wha –" Arnold snapped out of his dream-like state. Mrs. Douglas was leaning over his shoulder. He followed her gaze, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. He was amazed at his drawing; it was easily the best thing he had ever done, but it terrified him at the same time. He was staring at the beautiful face of Helga G. Pataki. He was speechless from shock. You dumbass! he shouted in his head. How could you have drawn her! "Oh – oh, it really isn't, it's, I'm not done!" he cried as she pulled it away from him to get a better look.
"I have never seen anything like this. It looks like a photograph. Every line, the shading, it's perfect."
Her words were beginning to catch attention. "R-really, I'm not done," he stammered as he tried to grab it. She stepped away from him, and he tumbled over his feet and collided with the sink. "Ow."
"Nonsense. There is nothing left you could possibly do." She squinted. "This girl looks familiar."
The blood drained from his face. "Please, there is something I have to fix!" He grabbed the other end of the picture.
"Arnold, what has gotten in to you?" she asked wide-eyed, but her grip remained firm. Most of the class was staring at them, and a few had moved to get a peek at the drawing.
"I am begging you, give me the picture!"
"Arnold, let go now."
"No! I need that picture!"
"Arnold, I order you to release your – "
"No," he half hissed, half growled. She slid slightly, but her hold was stronger than ever. Out of pure frustration and madness, Arnold stepped on her toe and let go. She stumbled backwards, and the picture flew and landed on the counter. He watched as her arm bumped into a container of green paint with a top that had not been tightened enough.
The bell ran shrilly, and the students rushed out of the classroom, most likely to tell everyone how Arnold went crazy and attacked Mrs. Douglass. Arnold had, however, managed to catch her before she hit the floor.
"Oh, Arnold, thank you. I can be so clumsy, tripping over my own feet." Their eyes moved to the picture, which as now dowsed in acrylic paint. It took every ounce of self-restraint to hold him back from praising the heavens. Mrs. Douglas, however, felt differently. "Oh, Arnold, I am so sorry! Look what I did! I am such a klutz. My mother – "
"It's okay," he said.
"But that was amazing Arnold, and I, I – "
"It's really okay. I can draw another one at home."
"Oh, Arnold, I can't tell you how sorry I am." She looked terribly close to tears, and Arnold felt a ping of guilt. "I – I have to go. Can you clean that up? I just have to go. I'll see you later, Arnold. I have to go."
Arnold watched her leave and quickly cleaned up. He would be late for his next class, but he could care less. Arnold stared at the picture, now stained with green, and let out a long sigh. He rolled up the picture, along with a few sheets of clean white paper, and walked to his next class, hoping he could keep his head on straight.
¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤
"This is ridiculous, Arnold! Why do I have to drive you over there?"
"Because you want to help your best friend out." Gerald shot him a nasty look. "And because I don't have my own car."
"Right. So that makes me your personal chauffeur?"
"Relax, will ya? It won't take that long." Arnold watched the buildings go by as Gerald sped through town, cursing softly as he got caught in a bit traffic. The boys were tired and on edge because of their extra long and strenuous basketball practice. The team spent most of the time yelling at each other, and at this point, Arnold had a bad feeling they were going to get slaughtered tomorrow. Because of the longer practice, Arnold could not ride to the Omni with Helga, plus he only had to be there for a short time to make sure things were going okay, and that Josh had not blown the whole theater up.
They walked to the main stage in silence, but it was not because of their tempers. Arnold was just tired, and Gerald was amazed by the whole place. Arnold found Josh messing with the lighting. Adam D and Kathryn were putting the finishing touches on the set.
"Looks like we are ahead of schedule," Arnold said as he looked around.
"Uh-huh," Josh replied as he dimmed the lights slightly.
"Where's everyone else?"
"Uh, working on organizing tickets sales. I let Ryne be in charge of that. I wanted no part of it. Neither did Adam, and I told Kathryn to help us because if she was with the rest, some heads would be rolling."
"I am sure other body parts would be too. Hey, Arnold," she said as she stood beside him. "What's with the dim-wit?" she asked, gesturing towards Gerald who was still staring with his mouth open.
He ignored her. "You did all this?" he asked the boys.
"Yeah. You know, it's not to hard when you have more than half a brain," she snapped.
Gerald glared at her, but Josh spoke before he came up with a comeback. "Don't mind her, she just has permanent PMS."
She instantly flipped him off, and she dragged Adam with her to see what the rest of the crew were managing without her. Josh shook his head. "She's hotter than hell, but I think she is the devil's daughter. It certainly would explain a lot." He switched the house lights on. "I think everything's good. I'll go see what everyone is fighting about. Arnold, you can go. Save yourself while you can."
"Thanks. I'll see you Wednesday."
"What? Oh, right, your game is tomorrow." He shook his head. "You guys better win. East Hillwood killed us."
Gerald nodded. "Don't worry, we'll win. We hammered you guys this year, so it should be about even, right."
Josh smiled. "Yeah, but just wait until next year."
"We'll beat you by even more," Arnold said, a smile creeping on his lips.
Josh rolled his eyes. "Later," he said as he left.
Gerald turned to Arnold. "Can we go now?"
"Done gaping at the set?"
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't say gaping. Say staring like a normal person. God, you sound like Helga and Phoebe, using big words just because you can."
"Gerald, gaping isn't a big word."
"You know what I mean. Talk like a normal person."
Arnold walked to off the stage and into the hallway with all the practice studios. Gerald's mood was bad again, and Arnold did not feel like dealing with it. They were both tired, frustrated, and nervous about the game tomorrow night.
"What is that?" Gerald suddenly asked.
"Huh?" Arnold stopped beside Gerald. "What's what?"
"That voice?" He turned around and walked back down the hallway. Arnold followed him, and as they got closer, he heard it too. It was a soulful, elegant voice that reminded him of velvet for some reason. It was so smooth.
Gerald stopped outside the door. "Do you hear that? Pure soul." He opened the door slightly, and the voice rang out into the hallway.
"Then he asked when he walked my way. I hoped sweet things he'd say. Instead he smiled kinda nice as he held my hand kinda tight. But when the love light starts shining through his eyes, made me realize how he felt inside and when he placed a kiss upon my face then I knew, oh then I knew, that he won my heart."
They opened the door, since whomever the blonde girl was she would know Arnold, so it would not be that weird. She continued singing, and Arnold and Gerald continued to be amazed. This girl had talent. Arnold looked at the mirror and saw who it was at the same time she sensed that some one was watching. She stared at him for a moment.
"Hey, Helga," Arnold said simply. She exploded.
"What the hell are you doing here? I thought you had practice." She glared at Gerald. "What's he doing here?"
"Nice to see you too, Helga," Gerald muttered crossing his arms.
"We, uh, heard you singing and wanted to see who it was."
Her face fell. "Don't tell me I was that bad. I told Phoebe I should have picked something else. Why did I think I could sing a Diana Ross song?"
"And the Supremes," Arnold said automatically.
"Helga, are you deaf? C'mon, you know you are good," Gerald snapped at her.
"But – "
"Case closed, end of story. Can we go now?" he asked Arnold.
"Yes. Go. Now. Leave," she said coldly as she flipped through the sheet music.
"That's what you say after we assure you that you are good? Jeez."
"I just don't want you to hear me sing," she said, blushing.
Gerald's jaw dropped. "You have got to be the most emotionally messed up person, I swear. You were standing on a chair at lunch today singing to the entire cafeteria, and now you are self-conscious? In front of us?"
"This is serious."
Gerald groaned loudly. "You talk to her. I am going out to the car. And hurry up," he said to Arnold, and he left mumbling about how crazy Helga was.
"He makes a good point, you know."
She stared at Arnold. "About what?"
"If you can't sing in front of us, how do you expect to sing for the judges and for the entire audience?"
"Well, if I can't do the first I won't have to worry about the second." Arnold glared at her. "I don't really care what they think about me." She avoided his eyes.
Arnold stared at her for a while. He did not realize how much his opinion mattered to her. Or was it his and Gerald's? "You care that much about what we think of you?"
"Well, not Phoebe and Gerald so much. I mean, I do, but Phoebe still rarely gives me a straight answer about what she thinks of me, and Gerald could care less most of the time." She began picking at her nails.
It's just me, he thought, and a million more thoughts entered his head. He stared at her as she finally looked at him, staring into those wide, dark eyes. For what seemed like an eternity, they stood there, staring intently into each other's eyes, and he briefly thought of telling her how he really felt. Maybe she feels the same way, he thought. Maybe it's me she really cares for. He tried to form words, to say something to those pleading eyes, waiting for him to give her reassurance, and maybe something more. "You'll do fine," he said finally in a voice that sounded nothing like his own.
He turned away from her. He did not want to see her reaction, but unfortunately he turned towards the mirror, and he saw he hurt face. "You're right. I am sure I'll do fine. I don't know why I'm worrying so much about it," she said, and her face became emotionless, not letting him see anymore of the pain she really felt.
How many times had he seen that look? Too many, he thought sadly. " I mean, if you want me to leave when you are on stage, I will if you want me to," he stammered, trying to help her, but it was too late. She was done.
"That's all right, Arnold. Look, I have to practice, and Gerald will blow a fuse if you don't get out there soon."
"Yeah," he said slowly. "Look, Helga, if you need anything, just – "
"I'm fine, Arnold," she snapped. "Really, I'm fine." She played her trump card to get him to leave. "It's probably just PMS since I should be starting my period soon."
"Ugh," he grumbled. That was the second time in the last thirty minutes he had heard PMS. It was all too much. "All right. All right. I get it. I'm leaving. See you tomorrow."
"Yeah," she said without any feeling as she turned away.
He looked at her once more before he left. He was quiet on the way home, not answering Gerald when he asked about Helga. Why didn't I just tell her? he thought desperately. Even if I didn't tell her that, I at least could have said something else. Now she's pissed. He looked up at the sky and wished for life to be more uncomplicated.
Arnold was still thinking about it as he tried to do his art homework. First he tried to play his music so loud that it would block out all his thoughts, but that did not work. Bowling for Soup, Helga's favorite band, was in the CD player, and it only made him think about her anymore. He turned it off and tried the television. He started watching Sportscenter, but women's basketball highlights were on. He flipped the station, but it was no use. He turned it off and threw the remote across the room. "Damn it, she's everywhere!" The blank piece of paper caught his eye. He growled. "She is not the only thing in my head." He sat down and began to draw. After about five minutes, it was clear whom he was drawing. He crumbled up the paper and threw it over his shoulder. Arnold tried to free his mind and just draw what came to his mind, but every picture looked the same.
"Damn it," he said again, and he grabbed his latest Sports Illustrated. He looked through it to find the manliest looking guy in the magazine. He found a picture of a Russian hockey player who was not the nicest looking guy in the world, and he also looked nothing like Helga. It was cheating, but Arnold did not care. He had to draw something other than her.
After an hour of self-restraint and intense concentration, he was done, and his drawing looked like the hockey player, except there seemed to be something of Helga there. He sighed. "It's no use." He packed everything away and flopped on his bed, staring at the sky and forgetting about the rest of his homework. He would do it sometime during the day tomorrow. Arnold closed his eyes, but all he could see was her face. She looked so hurt. "And I did it to her." It was a numbing thought. Helga was the last person on earth that he wanted to hurt. The look on her face broke his heart. He could have stood her yelling at him, but she looked at him like she did when her parents forgot about her or left her for Olga. He did that to her. He made her feel that pain.
He spent the whole night trying to sleep, but it never came. All he could think about was her face, those pleading eyes that seemed to want him to tell her how much he cared about her because she felt that way too . . . . As the sun rose, he made up his mind. He would show her just how much he cared, and when she was ready to admit she cared too, he would be right there waiting for her.
A/N: Back to the drawing board with the words you've heard a million times before. In your head, I am dead. It was the attack of the italicized words, I tell you. And the ellipsis. Oh well. Uh, um, yeah. This chapter ended differently than I expected. Hmmm . . . interesting. Next chapter is "Cold Shower Tuesdays." Wow, that will be chapter 14. Only about twenty-six or so to go . . . why do I write so much . . . hmmm, another question for the magic eight ball. I am going to get some sleep because I am acting loopy (that's what happens when I get about four hours of sleep every night). Later days.