A/N: Back to the lab again. Wow, the concert day was the best day ever. It started out kinda crappy, but then I met Simple Plan. Simple Plan rocks, because not only is their music cool, but they are French Canadian. I like Canada, because they have moose. I like moose. Anyways, I think it is the coolest thing that they are French Canadian punk rockers. I don't know why, I just do. Okay, so after I met Simple Plan, I went and saw Bowling for Soup. If you don't know who they are, go and download some of their songs, or better yet, buy their album. It's so worth it. So I saw BFS and they saw me before the show in my BFS t-shirt my sis made with my name on the back (they were on a little stage, which kicks because I was really close to them. Yea!), so when they started playing "Emily," they were like, "Where's Emily at?" So I started jumping up and down and totally rocking out. "There she is!" And I met them after the show, and they were like "There's Emily. We were wondering when she was coming." So I got my t-shirt signed. I just used a lot of "soes." Is that how you say that? Who cares. Then I saw Simple Plan perform, and then The Ataris. I have so much respect for them now. The Ataris is from Anderson, Indiana, and that rocks. Indy rocks. I loved the Warp Tour. The only bad part was Mest and Bowling for Soup played at the same time so I missed them, but it's cool. If the Warp Tour is coming near you, go. Seriously, you will come back a changed person. It f'n' rocked.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold!, but I am the proud owner of one hell of a sunburn. It looks like I have second-degree burns. Oh well. I have always felt like a tomato, and now I just look like one. Why do I feel like a tomato, you ask. Because I never really feel like I fit in, just like a tomato. Man, that food has one heck of an identity crisis. It never knows if it is a fruit or a vegetable, just like I never know what group I am in at school (I do know I am not a fruit, so don't even start that . . .) Poor tomato. . .never knowing if it is a fruit or a vegetable, but it makes salsa, and salsa rocks.
Haha, that was fun. Enjoy tomatoes. Jaret Von Erich does. He is hott. But he is married. But that's all right, because Chipper Jones is married and I still love him. And he is hott. I love Bowling for Soup. I am taking up a lot of space. Oh well. Here is Chapter 14. It was inspired by a Bowling for Soup song. Buy their album, Drunk Enough to Dance, because they rock.
Where to Begin
Chapter 14 – Cold Shower Tuesdays
"Damn Lila," Arnold muttered as he started jogging to English class. She insisted on telling him all about her day while dragging him with her. This pissed him off for two reasons: one, they sat beside each other in class, so she could have just told him there without hanging on his arm, and two, Arnold had had to go to the bathroom badly and now had a good chance to be tardy because she held him up. "Whew," he breathed as he neared the door, but first his heart broke a little bit. He glared slightly before he finally entered the classroom and slumped into his seat. He thought about what had happened in the last six minutes.
On the way into the classroom, he ran into (well, almost ran into) Helga and Jake kissing. Arnold was used to seeing this at school; he had been seeing it in his public schools since seventh grade. That did not really bother him. What bothered him was that it was Helga, his Helga, though in reality she had never been his. Still, he thought he deserved better than to have to watch Helga and Jake's kissing game, which was to kiss each other as much as possible whenever no one was looking, thus the reason they were making out so close to the start of class. Lila had informed him of their latest pastime earlier and had also mentioned what a great couple they were.
Helga popped into the room right before the bell rang, a dazed look and a goofy smile on her face. Arnold's eyes narrowed. How could Helga, one of the smartest people he knew and a rather good judge of character, be so blindsided by Jake, who was a Grade-A jerk underneath that thin layer of charm? Arnold growled and pulled out his playbook to distract himself.
Okay, Oregon west. After I pass, I pick right and . . . . Who does she think she is acting like that? I mean, she should know that in a school this size someone is always watching. He shook his head. Okay, if they don't get open, I cut towards the ball and go to the lane for a lay-up. Okay, Stanford one. I pass it to Gerald, then he fakes a pass to the post . . . . Why does she put up with him? We all know what he's after, heck how many times has she joked about that? But she seems to have forgotten all that. Why? Damn it, Helga deserves someone better. Someone like . . . . Okay, Gerald fakes a pass to the post and Jake cuts . . . . Why am I so jealous? I mean, it's just Helga. I've known her practically my whole life, and she's only the most amazing and intriguing person I know. So what? That doesn't mean anything. Why am I suddenly so attracted to her? I mean, maybe I've felt like this for a long time but . . . . How can she choose him over me? "Oh, this is ridiculous!" he shouted. Everyone looked at him, including Helga.
"I know how you fell, Arnold," Mr. Spalding said. "How can a verb be a noun? Well, it is a simple thing known as a gerund and . . ."
Arnold blocked out the rest of the lesson. They had beat gerunds to death in freshman year, so this was just review, not that he was ever crazy about grammar anyways. He laid his head down. Well, I suppose I could get a nap before the big game. Then maybe I can stop thinking about Helga. Helga, the most amazing . . .
¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤
Arnold pulled his warm-up jersey over his head. His stomach was filled with butterflies, and he was regretting eating that burrito for lunch. What the heck was I thinking? He started putting his shoes on. Gerald was beside him making sure his hair looked nice. "Gerald, I don't think the other team is going to care what your hair looks like."
"It all goes with the game, by friend."
"Right." Arnold's thoughts returned to the game ahead against their biggest rival, East Hillwood High, but his thoughts were drowned out by the conversation across the locker room.
"So, Jake how far have you gotten with that little blonde of yours?"
"You know I don't kiss and tell."
"Since when?" another teammate asked.
Jake laughed. "Well, let's just say I'm working on it."
"C'mon, just tell us. Third base yet?"
"Please. Helga's a classy girl, and we've only been dating for a week." He smirked at them. "Give me another two weeks, and I'll have the whole diamond circled."
The three laughed, and Arnold could feel the anger building up inside him. All he wanted to do was to beat the living daylights out of Jake Richardson. Asshole. Helga would never do anything with him.
"Relax, man," Gerald said beside him, but his voice sounded like it was far away. "You can't beat up our shooting guard before the big game. Wait until afterwards."
"I don't think I can last that long."
"Arnold, Jake would have no problem beating the shit out of you. He's probably been waiting for an excuse to do it."
"So what? He has no right to say those things."
"And he's probably just saying them. Helga wouldn't do anything like that with him, you and I both know that. He's just trying to make himself look good."
Arnold's fists were still clinched. "I don't care," he said through gritted teeth.
"What would Helga do if you beat Jake to a bloody pulp?"
His eyes remind slits as he glared at Jake, but he relaxed slightly. Their coach came in and give them the usual pre-game talk, but Arnold's mind was thinking about other things, and it continued there until the buzzer sounded and the game was about to start. His stomach gave a lurch as it hit him how big this game was; both teams had one of the best records in their conference and losing would make it very difficult to win conference. Arnold sat down beside the coach in his usual spot as the game began. His did not go in until two minutes were left in the first half, and West Hillwood High was winning 18-17. He quickly returned to the bench, though, after he took out all his anger by making to quick, stupid fouls.
"What the hell are you doing out there, Arnold?" his couch cried as Arnold flung himself back into the chair. "Get your damn head in the game! I need you, and now I can't use you until the second half. You tell me when you are ready to play basketball, and maybe I'll put you back in. You call that a push! He barely touched him!" he yelled as Gerald was called with a foul. Arnold sat mentally cursing himself for letting his emotions get the best of him. It did not happen too often. He watched Jake make a bucket and suddenly had another idea of how to take out all his anger.
¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤
"Interviews suck butt."
Helga was on the floor stretching and blowing raspberries. She had just spent the last hour learning how to act during an interview. At the moment she was plotting ideas on how to get that last hour of her life back.
Callie was lying beside her, staring up at the ceiling with her eyes slightly glazed over. "Mmm-hmmm." She rolled over to stretch her back. It cracked several times.
Helga flinched. "That's nasty."
"Mmm-hmmm."
Helga sighed. "This is beyond dumb. I shouldn't be here."
"The scholarship, Helga. The scholarship," Callie said as she stretched her arms across her chest.
"This is getting ridiculous. I am sick of being here. Scholarship or no scholarship, this is taking over my life. Damn it, I'm not a real beauty queen!"
Callie shrugged, too tired to deal with Helga. Helga felt like kicking something, mainly herself. The entire day she debated about skipping practice and going to Jake and Arnold's game, but she thought she would feel guilty. Instead she felt extremely pissed.
The next hour crawled by. The practiced the "All that Jazz" and opening performances, and had to stop a million times during each because someone made a dumb mistake. She dug her mails into her palms to prevent her from hitting something. It's not fair, she thought angrily. Lila gets to be at the game, and I am stuck in hell. So what if she's a cheerleader? she thought as she stared singing the second verse of "All that Jazz." Lila doesn't know a jump shot from a lay-up.
"Stop, stop. Helga, you need to enunciate more," Miss Sheltie said to her. "And your movements are a bit jerky."
"Right, right. Well, my moves are jerky because I am TRYING TO REFRAIN FROM HITTING SOMEONE!" she shouted.
"Miss Pataki, don't you dare yell at me. I am – "
"I know, I know, doing me a huge favor by helping me. Well, you know what? I'm giving you a day off." She walked towards the pile of duffle bags and threw a couple aside until she grabbed her own.
"Miss Pataki, what are you doing?" Samson asked.
"I am leaving. I have put in enough of my time here to get some time off."
"Helga, you miss practice all the time for games," Miss Sheltie said, and there was an edge to her words.
"And that's my fault?" Helga snapped.
"I'm just saying you need more practice. You all need more practice." Her eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to leave?" she asked slowly.
"Because I am sick of being here. I should be at my boyfriend's basketball game."
"Great. You are telling me that you are leaving to meet your boyfriend? Helga, you are one of the last people I would expect this kind of bullshit from. You have got to be kidding me."
"Well, I'm not."
"Well, you are not leaving."
"Yes, I am. I have put in enough time here. We all have."
"Yes, you have put in a lot of time, but you need to but in more. Helga, have you forgotten that the pageant is in less than two weeks?"
"I am counting down the hours until this nightmare is over." She sighed. "Look, this is taking its toll on everyone. We are all tired. I'm sure we haven't had the time to concentrate or dedicate as much time to our studies, which is the main point of this thing since it is an academic pageant." Miss Sheltie continued to glare at her. "And as a representative of my school, I feel that it is my duty to be at the biggest basketball game of the season. And it is duty as a girlfriend and a friend to be at not only my boyfriend's biggest game, but also two of my closest friends' biggest game. They need me there, and I need to be there. That's why I want to leave."
She stared at Helga for a long time. "Fine! Everyone can go. You need a break anyways." She glared at Helga. "You better be ready to work your ass of tomorrow."
Helga stared back just as coldly. "I wouldn't do anything less."
Miss Sheltie gave her another long look before leaving. Her assistances left behind her.
All the girls ran up to Helga and thanked her, especially Mackenzie DiMauro, who went to East Hillwood and was dying to go to the game. Callie thanked her and said she was going straight to bed, passing on Helga's invitation to go to the game. She was about out the door before Samson grabbed her arm. "Miss Pataki, you need to watch what you are doing."
"I know, but this is really important to me –"
"I understand, but you are already on her bad side. If you push her too far you will be kicked out of this pageant."
Helga swallowed hard. Though she hated being here, she would not want all her hard work to go to waste. "I won't have a toe out of line anymore. I promise."
"You better," he said slowly. "Or you can kiss that scholarship and the chance to outdo your sister good-bye."
He walked away, leaving Helga with much to think about as she drove to her school. The gym was packed, and the first thing Helga saw was Arnold make a three point shot, making the score 88-87 East Hillwood as the fourth quarter winded down to the final three minutes. She sat down beside Phoebe. "How are we doing?"
"Oh, Helga, you're finally here. Arnold's brought us back from the brink. We were twenty points down midway through the third quarter, then Arnold came in and lit the place up. He's scored more than twenty points!"
"Arnold?" Helga sat in disbelief. Arnold has never much of a shooter. He was much more comfortable setting other people up and getting the assist, thus making him a perfect point guard. She watched in amazement as Arnold took the team on his shoulders and controlled the ball as they executed the four-corners play to waste time. The score was tied 93-all, and West Hillwood was planning to take the last shot. However, one of the East Hillwood played fouled Gerald hard, and he made both shots. The same player dribbled past West Hillwood's press and made a quick three, leaving ten seconds on the clock, and West Hillwood down by one.
Their coach called a time out, and the team huddled together while the crowd screamed with the cheerleaders. "We have time for one shot, and we don't have to rush it. You have plenty of time." He turned to Arnold. "You take the ball down. If you got the shot, take it. You haven't missed all night. Let's go, we got 'em!"
Arnold went back out onto the court. He was not nervous at all. Everything was working for him. Everything was clicking. They were going to win; he could feel it. They were going to win, and he was going to be the one to win it for them.
Jake took the ball out of bounds below the East Hillwood basket. Their defense was wanting for them at half-court so they would not make any stupid fouls in the backcourt. Arnold caught the ball and dribbled down the court. Nine seconds, eight seconds, seven seconds. Two defenders tried to trap him, but he spun and got around them. He dribbled towards the lane. Matt, another of Arnold's teammates, was open on the baseline, but the pass was too risky. Plus Arnold could feel the shot. He had it. He knew it. Four seconds, three seconds. At two seconds Arnold pulled up and shot a jumper at the foul line. The ball was halfway down the basket, and he began to celebrate. Everyone did. The West Hillwood students were ready to rush the floor when to their horror, the ball rolled out. Arnold felt his stomach drop, and he sunk to his knees. On the other side of the gym, the students of East Hillwood High stormed the court to congratulate their players. He stared at the basket. The ball was in. It was in! he cried in his head. But it rolled out, and West Hillwood had lost, 96-95.
Gerald was the first to come over to him. "C'mon, Arnold," he said. "We got to go shake their hands."
Arnold got up and went down the line, and decided that this was cruel and unusual punishment. He had always thought this post-game ritual was good because it supported good sportsmanship, but now he hated it. He hated everything about this moment. It was in. It was in! In the locker room, Arnold just sat with his head in his hands. The shot replayed in his mind over and over again. I lost it for us, he thought. I lost it for us.
Coach's speech was short, and basically said that they could not have played a better game and that East Hillwood just simply outplayed them. Arnold did not make eye contact with either his teammates or his coach. He heard Matt say that Arnold should have passed him the ball, but no one wanted to hear it. They did not say anything about the game. Before he left, Gerald told Arnold that if it wasn't for him, they would have gotten killed, but Arnold remained quiet.
Helga was the only one left in the gym when Arnold finally came out of the locker room. She was sitting in the third row of the bleachers. He climbed up and sat beside her, and they sat in silence as the janitors cleaned the floor.
"It was in," he said finally.
"I know."
"God, it was in." He rubbed his eyes. She waited for him to continue. "I had the shot. I – I saw it, and I was open, and it was in."
"I know."
"And then it rolled out. It rolled out. It was halfway down the basket, and it rolled out."
"It wasn't meant to be," she said lamely.
They sat in silence again. Arnold put his head in his hands. "Why didn't I pass it to Matt?"
"Because the pass was too risky. Because you were on fire. Because you had the shot, Arnold. You did everything right."
"And we lost," he said hollowly.
"Yeah."
Another long period of silence passed. "I just – I just wanted to be the hero for once. I wanted to win the game for us. I wanted to be the guy that everyone puts on their shoulders . . . . It just wasn't meant to be, I guess."
"Arnold, if it wasn't for you it wouldn't have ended so close. You were the reason we nearly won. So you missed one shot. Someone else could have made one, and that would have been the difference."
"But I should have made that shot."
"And what would you have done differently."
"Well, nothing, I guess."
"See, there was nothing you could do. Sometimes life just likes to bite you in the ass like that." He did not say anything. "Arnold, you can't be the hero all the time."
"And why not?" he snapped.
"Because it doesn't work that way. No one hits 'em all the time. You just got unlucky. There was nothing you could do about that."
He suddenly met her gaze, which he had been avoiding. There was something so final in his eyes. It scared her. "I just realized something," he said softly. He dropped his eyes. "You're right, I can't win them all the time, no matter how hard I try and how much it hurts."
Helga studied him. He was not talking about the game anymore, that was clear, but she could not tell what he was talking about. "Arnold – "
He smiled slightly. "I'm fine now, Helga. Thanks."
"Sure," she said slowly, still eyeing him carefully.
He grinned sheepishly. "Do you think I could get a ride home?"
"Um, yeah, sure," Helga said, still very confused. At least Arnold was feeling better, but she could not help but wonder what else he was thinking about it that football head of his.
A/N: Short chapter done, short chapter on the way, and it is titled "With or without you" (U2 is awesome, because hey, I still haven't found what I'm looking for. Then again, I don't know what I am looking for). Those are good because I usually update them quicker. Oh, word to the wise, don't hit Italian sausages with a baseball bat.
Sad bit of news – My hometown and area was recently hit with the biggest flood it has seen in ninety years. It was so bad it was declared a disaster area. Completely horrible. Luckily, my house was not flooded, but a lot of houses in my town were hit hard. We were on the national news, but I would rather have been on it for another reason. Anyways, if you saw anything about the mid-west flooding, that was us, and please keep us in your thoughts and prayers, if you want to, anyways. Thankfully no one died, but it is still terrible. Now as we begin to clean up I can only hope for the best for my neighbors.
Anyways, I'll be back soon, and the reason why my author notes sound so crazy and upbeat is because I wrote them a while ago, before the flooding, incase you were wondering. As always, take care and later days.