Disclaimer - I don't own 'Hey Arnold!'
Disclaimer - I don't own any bands, CD's, or song titles.
Author's Note - HA! I figured it out. Sorry I lied, I figured out what to do. My apologies, don't kill me.
Chapter Six: Screamer
A loud thud against the wall behind me woke me up with a start, I was breathless first thing in the morning for the second morning in a row, I needed to stop waking up like this. I looked up and my hand was resting on my pillow, knuckles against the wall. Damn hand. I closed my eyes and lay there for a moment before opening them and looking at the covered window. Bright sunlight glowed around the white and pink shades, indicating it was day, later in the day if I knew better. I looked over at the clock, 11:11 A.M. close enough. I yawned long and loud and it felt nice. I sighed and stretch my arms and legs out, bad idea. The scabs felt like they were being ripped open, I squeaked a little in pain and looked down at them. I sat up and brought my knees up. I was able to do so without any pain. I smiled with relief. I peeled back the gauze gently, they hadn't opened at all and I was grateful.
I got out of bed and suspected to fall when I stood up, but didn't, although the pain was great. It shot all through my legs like Charlie Horse and it was difficult to walk. Was last night a dream, because it hadn't hurt like this at all. My door was open, either dad was still home or he hadn't bothered to check on me. Oh, well, work is probably all that's in his cranium right now. I hobbled to my dresser and pulled out a pair of faded blue jeans, a plain red T-shirt, and my unmentionables. Time for a shower. I looked over at the opened closet door, I would have to clean that up some time, didn't want to have another accent. These last two days have been too intense, I needed a little break from everything. I wiped a hand over my face and sighed. Just get around it, Helga.
I walked into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. I sat the clothing on the counter top and started the shower. The water was shockingly cold, it took a while for it to heat up. I stripped to nothing and realized that I felt very insecure about my body, like someone was going to barge through the door and see me. I hopped into the shower quickly, like that would save me, and closed the curtain, the water was warm against my skin. It's funny, even in June a nice warm shower always feels good. I showered, being careful with my wounds. When I was done I felt better, not any happier but better, being clean always made me feel better. I sat on the toilet, a towel wrapped around me, with all the First-Aid supplies spread out. I did the whole routine, I finally realized why it didn't hurt too badly last night, I didn't have soggy scabs and probably because I practically asleep. Today the Betadine hurt, it was able to work on the wounds. I gauzed myself up and got dressed. I chose a baggy pair of jeans instead of the tighter fitting ones, easier on my legs. I towel dried my hair and combed all the knots out then pulled my hair atop my head into a high ponytail, strands of hair that would go back dropped around my face, decorating it nicely, or as nicely as it was going to get.
My stomach rumbled as I stepped out of the bathroom. Hmm, food sounded good. I walked into my bedroom and looked at the clock, 12:16 P.M. Yeah, I guess I could try to eat. I put on some deodorant, pulled on my dark grey hoodie and two sprays of vanilla body spray then grabbed my bag. There was no way I was going to eat here, I needed out of this house, I needed to be somewhere else. Keys? Where are my keys? On my bed when I left for Phoebe's, what about now? I patted around on my bed, looking for them and gave up. Screw it.
I made my way down the stairs slowly, safely, not falling on my face. I didn't look over in the direction of the living room and hurried out of the house. The air down here was a lot thicker down here than the air upstairs. Uncomfortable, suffocating. Maybe it was just the summer air. I tried to kneel down to feel for the key and it hurt, when I got into a comfortable position, the key wasn't there. Why hadn't I thought of this when I got here on Sunday? Too much was on my mind to remember we had a spare key. I frowned and tried to open the door, locked from the inside. Phoebe either took the key or left it on the end table by door. My guess was she left it on the table. See, bad omen. I sighed and stood up and walked down the street slowly and carefully, eyes pointed to the ground, making sure I don't trip or step in something. I gnawed on my lip and smiled a little. Everything just kept my mind on Mom and Dad and Olga. Why? Guilt, I knew that much. Sorrow, too. I missed Mom and Olga. Jealousy was what took me over yesterday, but still, I wonder, did she love me? I don't know. I just don't know.
Mr. Green was standing outside his shop, sweeping. Why didn't he just get more help? If I wasn't a vegetarian then I would help him. Meat wasn't my thing. Sorry Mr. Green. I pulled my hood on my head and hurried my way past him as fast as I could, which was slow. If he knew it was me, he didn't say anything. Good thing because I still would have ignored him. I slowed down a lot more and winced in pain, but it was worth it, I didn't need to be interrogated right now. Once from Phoebe was enough, and that wasn't her worst, that wasn't bad at all. I looked over at an outdoor Italian restaurant, cheap good food and practically empty, hopefully it would stay that way, if not then I was leaving, people were too much for me right now, I would have a panic attack. I walked to a table and took a seat, sighing. All the weight off my legs felt like a relief. The waiter came over and handed me a menu, I thanked him and took it. He didn't question me about school. I was paying him, I didn't think he cared.
A voice sounded, soft and unsure beside me. "Helga?" I knew I should have sat more toward the back. I looked up and was staring up at a well dressed young man, dark grey T-shirt, denim jeans that sagged slightly and pair off black high-tops. Arnold. As much sentimental value that stupid blue hat had, he finally decided to just put it on display in his room. He looked a lot more attractive without it, I wasn't always staring at the little baby cap on his head. His hair was a mess of short blond spikes, I was happy when he cut his hair short again. He went through a rock star stage from sixth to the middle of eighth grade and realized that long hair and eights retro wasn't really the thing anymore. I had to tell him that.
I was seeing a lot of people lately I didn't want to see, okay, only him. I frowned and looked back down at the front of the menu that read "Lunch Specials". I knew he wouldn't take that hint but I could always try to act like he wasn't there. It didn't work. "Hey," He came around and sat across from me.
I looked up and blinked once. "Yes?" I raised my brow and stared at him. I guess the "friendly" Helga was gone, and she didn't feel like coming back until she feels better, until things got better and I didn't know when that was going to be.
Arnold stared at me, looking hurt and I suddenly felt bad. I wanted to ask him to forgive me and tell him everything. He was the only person who could do that to me. Yeah, I am weak. It has to be because I was in love with him when I was younger. In love. Strong words. I liked him immensely. Yeah, that was it. "We missed you at school, where were you?" He asked. He was ignoring the fact that I didn't want to talk to him right now. He was good at ignoring things. Maybe if I screamed at him we would leave me the hell alone.
"Where do you think, Football-head?" Wow, I hadn't called him that since fifth grade, how childish. Oh, well, not like I really cared right now. Okay so I felt a little bad. Damn it, I didn't want to feel this way. I didn't want to regret the things I did or said, but I did.
The look of hurt was a lot thicker now. No . . . his expression was more like . . . Pissed. Yes, he was pissed off royally now and it was my fault. "Ya know, Helga, I just wanted to ask how you were doing, I knew it would be a mistake." Arnold scoffed and stood up, pushing the seat in violently. The chaired slammed loudly against the table, catching the attention and some pedestrians who were walking past. Arnold, violent? Who knew? I stared up at him in shock, eyes wide and I felt heat creep up my face, embarrassed. The waiter stood two tables away, and stared at us, contemplating giving me the glass of water he had in his hand. I looked over at him then to Arnold who began to walk off. The waiter rushed past Arnold, cutting him off and sat the water down the hurried back to his spot. Yeah, well, I wouldn't want to be in his spot, either, between a, I guess it could be called a "fight" or maybe it was an argument.
I almost bit my tongue to hold back the words but they slipped out, "Look, I am sorry." I looked down and bit my bottom lip, staring at the menu again. The seat in front of my slid out again and I was pretty sure he was sitting across from me, unless he was going to slam it one last time, but I doubted he would. I looked up and he was sitting down, staring at me. No expression, almost like he was studying me. "What?" I almost screamed it, but maintained my temper.
He looked down and slipped his shoulder bag off, setting on the ground next to him, making himself comfortable. "Phoebe told me she saw you yesterday, said you were badly hurt." He glanced up, brown eyes looking to mine. "You okay?" He was whispering, it was almost intimate. I finally figured out that when things get serious, people whisper like they are afraid or telling a secret.
I turned in my chair and reached down without thinking and pulled up my pant leg, I pulled the fabric down and showed him the bulky scabs. His hand reached and stopped, "Can I?" I didn't look at him, didn't answer. It didn't mean yes, but he ran his fingers over it anyway, caressed it. I should have thought this was freaky, bizarre, but I didn't. I was ready to scream out, expecting pain when his fingers made contact, but it didn't hurt at all, it was soothing, gentle, like he knew what he was doing. I smiled a little to myself as I watched his hand memorize the cut then slapped it away. Bad, Helga! I pushed his hand away, "What did you do?" I was looked at him this time, but he was still impressed with my cut leg. I didn't tell him the other one was hurt to, I didn't need to go through the state of mind again, feeling all mushy and happy that he was finally willingly touching me.
A small itch started on my neck on down, more of a tickle really. Nervous. "I--I, uh, I tripped." I cover the cut back up and rolled my pant leg down again, sitting forward. I grabbed my water and took a sip, it was cool and felt good going down. My first thing to drink in days. I set the glass down and was looking at the menu, even though I knew what I wanted, it just kept me from looking up at Arnold who I knew was staring at me. I felt the his eyes on me like heavy weights.
"Really?" He didn't sound convinced, but I didn't exactly say it too convincing. Remember not to stutter when trying to lie to someone you have known since you were four years old.
I looked over at the waiter, he looked like he didn't want to come back if Arnold was here. Fat chance for the waiter, I don't think Arnold was going to leave until I told him everything, that would be a while. I looked back at Arnold, "Yes." I took a sip of my water and began to drum my fingers on the table top.
He cleared his voice then said, "I don't believe you."
Sneering at him, I said, "You know what, Arnold? Don't believe me, then. I don't care." Yeah, this attitude was working, it would chase people off and I could be isolated like I have always wanted, like when I was in elementary school.
Arnold didn't budge, he just looked really hard at the table. Calling him childish names will get him to leave, but yelling won't…he was too complex for me. The waiter came over and hesitated, he had black hair that was smoothed back and tied into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. A black apron was tied around his waist over a pair of black slacks. He had a white button down shirt with the top button undone, and spit shined shoes. Snazzy. "Um, are you ready to order, Miss?" His voice was soft, intimidated. I nodded and told him my order, he jotted down my order then turned to Arnold and asked, "W-would you like a glass of water, sir?" He was afraid of Arnold? The gentlest guy in the universe? Yeah, that didn't make sense.
Arnold nodded and waited for the waiter to walk off before he said, "Why do you push everyone away? Phoebe said you practically broke down when she was over and she didn't know why." He was still looking down at the table.
I cocked my head to one side and stared at him, "So, is that what Phoebes does, is talk about me when I am not around?" I was more worried about my best friend talking about me then making another good friend on mine feel better. I was a true bitch, a selfish bitch.
Arnold shot his head up and looked at me. "Helga, she is worried about you." I could hear his control heavy in his voice when he said it, he was trying not to get mad at me. Arnold never got mad, he let everything pass, he was calm, coolheaded. I knew a way past his 'niceness'. He sighed and said, "I kind of am, too."
The glass of water was suddenly in both my hands, cool and smooth with water. I was circling it slowly in my hands, staring at the water. "Well, don't be." I said the words softly as I just stared at the cup I was swirling in my hands. I wanted to scream at him, tell him to leave me the hell alone, but I didn't, I couldn't. It seemed that I couldn't do a lot of things.
I looked at Arnold, he was shaking his head slowly, staring at his hands that were resting on the table top. "I don't understand you, Helga." He looked up at me, "I have known you since we were little, what is so hard about talking to me, telling me something?" His brown eyes were so deep brown that you could drown in them, I may not be in love with him anymore, but he was kind of irresistible.
I looked down then up and opened my mouth then closed it. How what I supposed to answer that? I knew, "Because, I don't need to talk to anyone about anything. I am fine. Live with it, Arnold, not everyone is going to turn to you for every little thing." Again there was the waiter, he always seemed to visit our table at the worst times. He set the water in front of Arnold and hurried off. Arnold took a swig of the water right away as if that would make all things better.
He ignored the last comment, maybe he didn't like the truth. "I know you better than that, Helga. Who was there for you the summer of fourth grade when you broke you mom's vase because we were playing tag in the house while you were grounded?" He was staring at me, a small, practically invisible smile on his lips. If I didn't look hard enough I wouldn't have caught it.
I raise my brow, "Phoebe." Arnold wasn't there until I wanted to talk about it, until I was calmer and I knew that was what he was getting at. Damn him. "Then you." I didn't even have to wait for him to say anything. "But that still doesn't mean I want to talk about it. So, just let it go." I paused and sighed, "Please?"
He nodded, an agreement. Why didn't I feel any better? "So, what have you been doing the last couple of days, other than being depressed and cutting yourself up?"
I smiled, it was bitter, and took a sip of my water. "Well, I guess sulking would fall into the category of 'depression', huh?" I looked at his hands that were folded together, resting on the table top. "Hiding, I guess." I admitted. I felt pressured, but I openly admitted it. I blame Arnold.
"Hiding from what?" He reminded me of a cop, how they lock you in a room and shine a light in your face, getting you to admit everything. He was rational.
I slid my gaze up to him. "I thought we were going to drop this." I snapped out. Defensive, me? Nah. Okay, maybe just a little.
He tilted his head one side, "You were the one who brought it up. I just asked a question." There are reasons why I don't like questions. I usually don't like my answers.
"Fine." I paused, thinking of something to ask him. When nothing came to mind, I asked the question back, "What have you been doing?"
Arnold took a sip of his water. "School, hanging with Gerald. You know, the usual." He watched my eyes, what was he looking at, or for? "How are your parents?" The question caught me by surprise, making my shiver, my stomach jerked with surprise. I coughed, choking, so much a little question could do. I took a drink of my water, that didn't help. I coughed harder, chugging the water. "Helga, are you alright?" Stupid question, Arnold. I was choking, what do you think?
I held up my index finger and slammed the glass down on the table top and coughed hard again, slimy water worked it's way up my throat then back down. I nodded, "Yeah, I am fine." I swallowed and coughed, patting my chest and let out a heavy breath. I looked at him and he was staring at me, just staring at me. What was he looking at? "Yeah?" I cleared my throat, it hurt now. I hate choking on spit.
He slid his water over to me. "You sure you're okay?" Why was a good friend to me when no one else cared? I didn't ask, I knew the answer. He was good friends with everyone, I wasn't a special case. I didn't feel like crying again so I let the thought drift off.
I pushed his water back to him and frowned, "Yes, Arnold, I am fine."
"Okay, Helga." He paused, I waited for the question this time. "So, how are your parents?" The question had a little more suspicion than it did interest, maybe the coughing fit gave it away or maybe he knew or maybe he just wanted to know how they are and I am jumping to conclusions.
I slid a lock of my bangs out of my vision and didn't know what to say without spilling the beans or without lying. I avoided his eyes as I said, "They are fine." So what? I went with lying. I didn't want to talk about it. How many times would it take for me to believe that?
The waiter set a plate of spaghetti covered in thick marinara sauce, my mouth watered as I grabbed my fork, ready to dig in. The smell was thick and delicious, and it smelled like heaven. "Anything else, miss?" Mr. Snazzy asked.
I glanced up and shook my head then stopped, "Actually may I have another glass of water? Thanks." I shoved my fork into the noodles and waited for the waiter to leave so I can enjoy my something to eat.
Arnold took the liberty to order something, he better be looking forward to paying for his own food. "Hey, can I get a small Caesar salad, please?" I looked up at the waiter who was just staring at Arnold like in a trance, what was his problem. The waiter jotted the order down on his small note pad and rushed off. No asking if it's going to be on the same tab. Rude.
That was the last straw. I could handle him asking how I was, maybe a little small talk, but inviting himself to lunch with me…no. I frowned, glaring at him, maybe it would make him disappear. I wish. Arnold looked at me questioningly. "What are you doing?" I asked. I didn't wait for him to answer, just continued. "If you didn't notice, I picked the emptiest restaurant, sat by myself, away from anyone, tried to ignore you and you…what? Invite yourself to have lunch with me?" My voice raised slightly at each word and was almost yelling at the end of the question. "Why are you here? I want to be alone!" I looked at my food and it looked nauseating, oh, great a waste of five bucks.
"I wanted to have lunch with you, Helga, because I want to talk. You seem so distant, and I want to know what's wrong. You're my friend and I care about your well being." I waited years to hear those words, but it just didn't matter to me anymore. He looked at me with those pleading brown eyes. Yeah, four years ago I would have done anything if he gave me that look but not today, not this year.
I smiled bitterly. "You want to know what's wrong, Arnold?" I asked, opened my mouth, ready to tell him but stopped, I wasn't going fall into a damned trap for a pretty pair of brown eyes, it just didn't seem worth it. "Too bad, I am not falling for it, Arnold. You never mind your own business, it's like you have to know everything that is happening, I don't need your prying. So…leave…me…the…hell…alone." I pulled a ten dollar bill out of my purse and slapped it down on the table. The waiter deserved a five dollar tip for having to put up with this drama. I stood up and pain shot through me but that didn't stop me from trying to walk as fast as I could, which still wasn't very fast. If I could take the pain I would have ran, I wish I could have ran.
Half way down the block and a hand gripped onto my shoulder. I stopped dead in my tracks and frowned down at the ground. I took in deep breaths and began counting to ten slowly, trying to calm myself. "Helga…" He trailed off as if he didn't know what to say. An apology for not minding his own business would have been fine as long as he left after he said it, but this was Arnold. He always thought he cold do no wrong. There was thick, heavy silence that hung in the air, he broke it. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." My heart stopped, shocked. Did he just..? Yeah, he did. Well, all he needed to do now was leave.
When I was breath steady again, I wanted to say, "Then why are you still talking to me?" but didn't, instead I said, "It's fine." I instantly regretted saying it because it wasn't fine, I wasn't fine, and his hand still on my shoulder wasn't fine. "Please take your hand off my shoulder." Maybe it was the please, or maybe he could hear my clinched teeth, but he dropped his hand.
Arnold walked around to the front of me, I was still looking down at the ground. "Can I walk with you at least?" He was a freaking gadfly, he wouldn't go away, no matter how much you wanted him to. I walk off to get away from him and he still doesn't get a clue.
I looked up, my voice was steady, bland, empty. "No." I walked around him, trying to get away from him, but there he was, walking beside me. "You just don't get a hint, do you Arnold? You wouldn't even pay me any mind when we were little but now you won't leave me the hell alone. I could call the police and place a restraining order on you." I didn't look at him when I said it, and knew I sounded over dramatic, and knew it sounded ridiculous, but I was kind of serious.
His chuckle was deep, warm and it pissed me off because it sent shivers all over my body. "Helga, I go to school with you, you can't place a restraining order on me." He had a point, but I mostly just wanted him to leave me be. He was too damn nosey.
I shrugged my shoulders and didn't know what to say, so I just said, "Fine."
"Fine."
I looked at him. He was taunting me. Secretly telling me that I am being immature. "You need something? 'Cause, you know, if you don't, well…" I trailed off, thinking if I should shout, be a snob, or just ask nicely. I chose nicely. "Will you please just leave me alone?" I wasn't walking anymore, we were standing right around the corner of Green Meats, where, if he wanted to, Mr. Green could eavesdrop.
Arnold studied my eyes, I don't know what he was looking for but the expression changed on his face. "I want to know what you are hiding. You haven't been this rude since the beginning of sixth grade. Please, Helga, tell me." He was begging. Was it the end of the world if I didn't turn to him for someone to talk to? Was there a bet to see who could get the truth out of me? That thought made me frown, made me jump to conclusions and, as close as I was to telling him just a little detail of what had happened, I didn't want to anymore. I didn't want to risk him telling everyone my personal business, I didn't want to risk being sympathized over it because I didn't need it. I needed space, time to think, time to figure out what I am going to do and how I am going to move on in live. Starving myself didn't exactly seem like the best part of life. Crying never seemed to make anything better. Ignoring people obviously doesn't work. Talking makes me feel like I am open book. Writing used to be everything, I could write down all that needed to said and I would feel one-hundred percent better but not lately.
"Well, Arnold," I said to slowly, helping me not to snarl at him. "You can just keep on wondering because you aren't getting anything out of me." I walked off, leaving him baby steps behind me. Why was he so damn nosey? They say that the reason you get mad at certain people, or don't like certain people is because they are just like you, or have certain things in common with you, traits that you have that you find annoying in most other people. Maybe that is why I get angry at him easily, I can't necessarily say that I haven't gotten into other peoples personal lives, and I can't say I haven't, at least, tried to make them tell me what is wrong.
He was beside me again, like a lost dog. Couldn't find an owner, so the first person who was sweet enough to pet and give him food, he follows. I really didn't want to be followed. I walked past Mr. Green, he was standing at the door staring at us, I bet ten bucks he was trying to listen in on the conversation. I would have. I never see him work, really. It's like he is psychic and knows when I am passing by. It's kind of creepy.
I looked over at Arnold, "Go away, Arnold." I replied, I didn't have anything else to say to him, except I wished he would respect my personal space, but why would he listen to me?
He stopped then and I was walking alone. He's not following? I had to stop and turn around to make sure that I wasn't having some sort of daze. He stood a few feet behind me, just looking at me, empty expression. Why was I feeling so horrible again, about not telling him? It's just a secret I wanted to keep to myself, but I didn't want people to hate me for not telling them, for not confessing things I felt didn't need to be confessed. Something was stinging my eyes and I had to blink to see clearly. I was crying, yet again. When would it end? At that moment, I wanted to tell him, only him, what had happened to me, why I am distant, why I am rude. I wanted to confess, I wanted it off my mind, I wanted to make the right decision. What was the right decision?
An instant later, I haven't the faintest how I got there, when it happened or how long I had been doing it, but I was in Arnolds arms, hugging him. To my surprise he was hugging back. I didn't expect it, I expected to be pushed away, like I always have been. I sobbed into his shoulder, using his shirt as my tissue, and told him everything, from my weekend at Phoebe's to finding my mother dead on the couch to the cuts on my legs. When I was done the look on his face was something I never thought I would ever see. Shock, sorrow, anger. He looked like he cared. Well, I guess I shouldn't have been too shocked because it was Arnold, but it was more of the fact that he was caring about me. I guess I shouldn't think too much into it, it'll probably end.
Author's Note: Ha! Finally got it done. Goodness, it took forever and I am trying to write a story for fiction press but I am brain blocked right now, I can't start it…grr. Well, anyway, yeah, this chapter got really stupid, I was trying to change it so much, so it would jump right into her telling him. But I wanted her to tell him in this chapter, I want her emotions to alter just a bit for the next chapter. But oh, well…I hope it wasn't too bad...even though it was. Tsk. Please Review. Thank you!