A.N: Oh my god… I am SOOO Sorry for the prolonged update!!!! I am like so so so sorry. God, with school and work and now since I can no longer write on the main computer, uh, I'm so sorry. I can't even remember what I wrote about, haha, that's never a good thing. I can't even tell you when the next chapter is going to be out, it can be tomorrow, Wednesday, or even next week sometime… damn schedule ( I'll try my best to get it out ASAP. And I'm sooooo sorry for this delay :( I hope you enjoy this chapter ((Side note: No, Helga is not becoming a popular little thing, she's actually totally gonna rebel next chapter, you'll see what I mean… sooo sooo sorry.))
(As the stars fall I'll still pray, because no matter what, I need to be saved. And from here on out I'll be on my own. Starting as a brave new girl.)
"Get up sleepy head." I rolled over and looked at the green eyes of my addiction. He was smiling as he sat on the edge of his bed. Another night sleeping next to him. It was a beautiful, beautiful thing.
"What time is it?" I mumbled, rolling back to face the bookshelf.
"Six fifteen. We have to get ready for school." I felt the bed shift as he got up and walked over to his dresser.
"Why?" I asked.
"We need an education." I sighed as I further wrapped myself into the blankets.
"I don't." I heard my voice growing softer as the sweet arms of sleep began to cradle me.
"Get. Up." I heard his gruff voice echo through my head. As I shifted his lips were mere millimeters from my face.
That bastard.
I rolled over and snuggled deeper into his blankets. He roughly threw them off me and grabbed me around my waist.
"Come on! We're going to be late!" He said as he began to lower me to the ground. I stood and glared at him as I went to his dresser and pulled out the bottom drawer. I threw a pair of jeans and a tee shirt half across the room before grabbing a pair of his socks and then picking up my clothes and heading to the bathroom. Glaring at him the entire round about.
It took twenty-five minutes to get ready and then get out the door to wait for the bus. His arm was gently around my shoulders as my own arms were folded over my chest.
One more week, just one more week and then it won't matter who sees me with him. Which group concentrates on me as I walk down the halls. No red headed drama queen glaring at me every time he kissed me. Not that I noticed any of these things.
The morning bus ride was never the problem. Most kids got their parents to drive them, drove, or walked. Arnold enjoyed taking the bus because he is use to taking a bus. The boy is somewhat standoffish on change. I can't really blame him. The bus was never an issue. Now, school is a totally different issue. I've known the majority of these people since I was four. I have grown up with them. We use to play baseball in a small little field every afternoon. Hell, most of them had been at the funeral.
So I would expect them to be somewhat more understanding of my relationship with Arnold. One of the few aspects of my life that is now public. But, no. This is not the case. The student body is somewhat in shock at my relationship with Arnold. I don't know if this is because I'm Helga or if it's the fact he's Arnold or because after almost sixteen years of being mean, intolerable, ignorant, and generally anti social, I'm slowly (very, very slowly) opening up to the real world. To this day I am still very much untrusting and caring towards the real world.
Go Figure.
"You ok?" I looked from the window to Arnold and nodded. "Are you sure?" I wanted to tell him I hated everyone in our school. How for the past week, since we had become official, I was now fresh news. How the popular girls looked at me as if I was up to something and the punk rock kids stared at me as if I was betraying the will of the gods. And I was not use to having any sort of real attention. I missed being a wall.
"I'm fine." I smiled slightly and looked back out the window. I felt his arm slip around my shoulders. He was getting better with the comforting of me. It had gone from words to actions. I enjoy actions far better then words. One never has to formally respond to actions.
(I can break a million ways but for some unknown reason I can still function another million days.)
I walked to my seventh period class excited that there would only be one class after this and then I could go home and sleep.
I was so close to the door when a tall person suddenly found her way standing eye to eye with me. She had long black hair that literally glittered. She was wearing a red tank top with a jean skirt that went to her calves. She was wearing red flip-flops with a small black purse clutched close to her body. I inwardly sighed as I noted she had on one of her social smiles. Fake and reserved for those who she did not find worthy enough to be in her presence.
I could only wish for that kind of self-loving self-esteem.
"What's wrong Rhonda?" I asked. I noted my voice was somewhat rigid. Which I assumed was my lack of sleep.
"As you know," This is how she starts every conversation. I rolled my eyes but said nothing. "I'm having my annual summer block party."
Ah, yes, that. It was easily one of the social events of the year. She had a party for everything, grant you, but this party always went out with a kick. I've never been invited to the social event.
"Yes, and?" I wanted to begin crying or screaming (whichever seemed more befitting, I would have only known had I done one), as I saw her eyes cloud over with a look of social suicide.
Ironic, isn't it?
"Well, since you are on the arm of one of my dear and close friends." Translation: Since you and Arnold are hooking up, and he's popular. "I'd be honored if you were to attend my summer bash." You better show up and accept your new position in a real society.
It's funny how high school can be traced back to it's own social society. Rules from the real world do not apply in high school. High school is not something you can ever experience again. There's nothing like it. Let's all take a minute to thank some higher power for that fact.
"I'll have to check with Arnold." This of course means I'll cry, until I can't breathe, to stop him from going and making me go.
"No worries dear." She said as if she was talking to one of her servants who accidentally stepped onto the Oriental rug in the formal living room. I hear they fire people for that. "Arnold confirmed his attendance with me this morning."
He would.
"Oh, well, then…" I trailed off. I was caught in a social mousetrap. Take the cheese and die or wait for the cat to find you. I'd like to believe that Rhonda is both the cat and the trap.
"I'll take your charming stuttering as a yes." She gave me a smirk and then turned and walked away.
She just insulted me by complimenting me. Oh, she's good.
I looked around before letting out a well-deserved sigh.
This was going to be one hell of a week.
Oh, and I'm going to kill him.
(There was a time I could never forget the feel of your lips against mine. And then suddenly it went away. What happened to us?)
"It's just a party."
You ignorant son of a… My mind trailed off as I glared at the cornflower haired boy. He was being totally unfair about this. (At least that's how I'd like to think of it.)
"Helga, come on, I gone to this every year since fifth grade. Rhonda will kill me if I don't go." She's been holding this stupid thing since fifth grade? Well then.
"I don't want to go!" I slightly shouted. We were currently on his roof fighting about something as irrelevant as a party. People were dying but our biggest worry is a party. Damn social economy of high school.
"Then don't go. I don't care." Leave him alone with Lila and her cult? Not go to a social event that I have never been invited too? Miss seeing the look on everyone's face when I show up looking somewhat fashionable? (I don't care about appearances, but so help me; I will be dressed to kill. For the record, we know there might be some blood shed anyway.) I'm such a sick person.
"But Rhonda is expecting me to go with you." I said it with an air of annoyance surrounding it.
"Then go!"
"No!" He glared at me; well he stared at me angry but more so confused. I was surprised the boy stayed with me for so long. I bet he was wishing he never tried to figure me out right about now.
"Helga, either you go or you don't. I will be at your house, next Friday night at seven sharp. Either you'll come with me or have your mom tell me your sleeping. I won't make this anymore difficult for you." I wanted to beat my head against a wall. There just weren't any I could get too. I looked at him and felt whatever little strength or will I had left crumble.
I loathe him.
I went up to him and gently leaned myself against him. His arms wrapped around my waist as he continued to glare down at me.
"See you at seven." I gave him a quick kiss and then pulled away. "By the way." I turned and gave him an award-winning smile. He smiled back. "You're not allowed to touch me until Friday night."
I felt my smile broaden as his diminished.
I was somewhat proud of myself.
(Contrary to belief, I am a happy person. Also contrary to belief I have a tendency to be a little compassionate. But this is besides the point. I can still hurt you.)
Friday had actually come to soon for my tastes. We had said good bye to our teachers and departed the school ground hearts heavy but spirits high.
Arnold, assuming I was joking, had tried to find ways around the no touching statement attachment to the party law. He was quickly shot down and I was free to do whatever I wanted. (Which isn't much because my foresight failing me I couldn't have imagined how much I had missed him.) He had Gerald give me random hugs (an awkward event on both our parts) and made Phoebe give me notes. The notes confused me because he was still allowed to talk to me. But, whatever.
I was walking to my house with Phoebe who had been going to Rhonda's parties since fifth grade as well (yet they question my paranoia). She was excitedly telling me about what went on and all the fun things that made Rhonda's party a social event.
I was obviously regaining my ability to hide my true feelings because neither Phoebe nor Arnold had picked up on my annoyance for this party.
I am not a social butterfly. I just know something bad is going to happen. I am not a person who should be pushed into the lime light of the public. Why were Phoebe and Arnold so gun-hoe on making me… this?
"Are you listening?"
"No." I replied quickly. I noted her glare and shrugged it off. "Sorry, go on."
"As I was saying—" She continued on her tangent of, I believe, what she was going to wear to the party.
As Gerald's girlfriend, Phoebe held a much higher position in high school society then I did. She was like a duchess where as I was of new wealth. Granted, Phoebe, from about seventh grade on held a higher position then I did or could possible ever want to hold. She didn't care though. This was what made Phoebe a good person. She could roll with the punches and at the end of the day still be Phoebe.
I, under whichever circumstance, did not ever return at the end of the day as Helga. I have too many Helga's to be just one every day.
I was slowly realizing that I could not handle this new position in high school society.
"You're still not listening!" I turned to the petite girl and looked at her blankly. Damn right I wasn't listening. I have slightly more important things to think about.
"I'm sorry! What?" I said as we reach the door to my house.
"I asked if you were ready to get ready for the party." I looked at her and shrugged.
Here it comes, the blonde version of She's All That.
(I feel just like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, except for that whole hooker thing.)
I personally wanted to fall over and begin crying. I was not this person. Whoever I was looking at in the mirror was not me. I am not this girl. I am a sarcastic, sadistic, pessimist, cynic, who likes referring to herself as broken, and laying in her bed staring at the ceiling. I was not a make up wearing, dress wearing, hair all done up, type of person.
"You look FABULOUS!" Phoebe smiled as she looked at herself in the vanity in my mother's room. We were currently in my mother's room because she had a full-length mirror, a vanity, and a private bathroom. Where as my room is the size of a shoebox with a mirror the size of my hand. Maybe slightly smaller.
I looked at Phoebe. Her raven hair was half up and half down. The half that was up was in two tiny ponytails on the sides of her head with curls. And the half that was down was straight as a pin. She was wearing her thin, silver rimmed glasses that made her look smart with an air of funky class. She was wearing a white tank top with a baby blue cotton skirt and a pair of white sandals. She had on various blue accessories.
I turned back to my own mirror. My hair was up with curls and more curls. I had on a baby pink, spaghetti strapped dress with white lace covering the entire thing. I was wearing a sliver necklace with a silver heart charm dangling from it. I also had a white, thin headband that had little pink rhinestones on it. I was wearing white sandals that had a strap going up my legs. Again, I wanted to cry.
"I look… like…" I didn't look like me, that's all I know.
"Rhonda is just going to die when she sees you!" Phoebe said excitedly.
This isn't who I am. It was the only phrase running around my head. Where's my worn out jeans? My old tee shirt? I needed my white scrunchie for when my hair made the back of my neck too warm. Who the hell is this girl looking at me in the mirror? Who the hell is this girl sitting at the vanity worrying about if her eye shadow is too heavy?
When did it all change? And how much longer was it going to last?
"I know that you're not use to this." I turned and looked at Phoebe. She was actually showing more then just excitement. Her face showed the severity of my actions. "I know that you hate this whole idea and I support you if you want to stay home."
I shook my head as I turned back to the mirror. I felt the sting of tears in the back of my eyes.
Who am I?
"It'll get better." She reasoned. "It's just one night. And this will kill Rhonda." I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I turned and gave my mother a soft look. She must have just got home from work.
"My, my, you two look quite lovely." She smiled. I needed her smile. I needed her to tell me that this was stupid and to just have fun. That after tonight it didn't matter anymore. I also wanted her to tell me we were moving and I would never have to see these people again, but one wish at a time will do.
"I'll go get our purses." Phoebe said as she walked out of my mother's bedroom.
"You look simply to die for. Arnold is going to be so… amazed." I looked at my mother and silently leaned into her arms. I wanted to cry so badly, but Phoebe had spent so long on my face and hair. I couldn't ruin it all because I was having a mental break down. "You're still Helga, baby. You're still the same person from yesterday. This party isn't going to change that."
I was happy when she stopped and she hugged me back. I felt anymore words would lead to tears.
For an ex-alcoholic, my mother was pretty perceptive.
I am just a hypocrite.
"The guys are here!" I felt my mother lightly kiss the top of my head as she let go of me.
"Have fun." She smiled at me. I nodded and walked to the stairs. Phoebe was using my hand-sized mirror to make sure her hair was perfect. I shook my head, the curls bouncing against my scalp.
I walked down the stairs and carefully made my way to the door. I smiled softly as I opened the door to reveal our two guys.
Gerald was wearing a white shirt with a pair of dark blue jeans. Under the shirt was a baby blue wife beater. This is enough to make the tabloids slightly ill.
Arnold was wearing a pair or black jeans and a red button down shirt open, revealing a white wife better. His hair was pushed back and partly hidden under a red baseball cap. A chunk of blonde hair stuck out from it in the front and gave him a boyish charm.
I couldn't help to think if this is how he dresses at every social event.
"Wow Helga." Gerald said giving the thumbs up, his attention was quickly diverted when he saw Phoebe flying down the stairs. I turned to watch them embrace.
I felt a pair of arms wrap around me. "You look stunning." His husky voice, when spoken with a whisper, could make a girl fall in love all over again.
It felt so good to be in his arms. I had missed it so much. I turned, his arms still around me, and wrapped my own arms around his neck. He was about to say something but all I wanted was to taste him. Did he ever taste so good.
I was reluctant to part with him. I was willing to learn how to not breathe.
"Let's go love birds." Gerald said as we made our way outside, Gerald's SUV sitting in front of my house. As the oldest he was the first to get a car and the first to get a license. At seventeen, it's a wonder what they can do.
"This is going to be so much fun." I barely heard Phoebe in the front seat as I found myself lip locked with Arnold again.
One week could easily cause an addiction to become worse.
Damn withdrawal.
At leats my thoughts weren't on the party.
That's gonna be a nightmare all in itself.
Damn social society.