Oh crap…am I confusing people? I've gotten 2 reviews where people are confused…what'd I do? I'M SORRY! Okay, synapsis of the previous chapter (I'll do this for every chapter if that's what you guys want):

Chapter 2: Begins with Helga having to quit the track team because of constant badgering from her parents. She has already quit her job. You don't actually hear her quit her job or the team because I like to be mysterious and I'm a dork (at least that's what my boyfriend tells me).

Chapter Break

The chapter picks up again with her in her sister's house. She goes through the motions of doing homework, feeding her sister's cat, blah, blah, blah. (This all occurs right after school.) Upon leaving Olga's house to go to her own, she is intercepted by Arnold, who is unaware of her condition and her resignation from the team and asks why she was not at practice. Arnold is NOT on the track team, he is on the BASEBALL team. Anyway, she makes up an excuse about babysitting Olga's cat, then catches herself in a lie when she has to pretend about knowing about a track meet. She makes up an excuse because, seeing as she's no longer on the track team, she won't be there. The chapter ends with her going home, and falling asleep on her kitchen table.

It sounds sucky when I put it like that, but if it'll help you guys, I'm willing to compromise. Alert me if this chapter is anymore confusing. ENJOY!

Chapter 3: Pants on Fire

November 15th

For some inane reason, Phoebe has agreed to give me a ride to school from now on. I guess she doesn't want me walking around in what in what my parents would call "this weather". I don't thoroughly understand that, we had two inches of snow, and suddenly, I can't go outside without 14 million layers of waterproof clothing…good grief.

The only problem, as of now, is that Phoebe doesn't have a car. Which brings us to problem number two: Gerald. I can't really say he's a problem, just a…roadblock. So basically, Phoebe giving me a ride is really Gerald giving me a ride. Wonderful.

Obviously, Phoebe hasn't told him about me (I'd like to keep I that way); he hasn't treated me any different than he has in the past 4 years. Since freshman year, or at least a month or so afterwards, they have become what I call a "Public Item" (Goodness knows how long those little eggs of truth were waiting to hatch, and it's a bit too cold to bother counting). So, since then, everything's been the same, for the most part. Gerald puts up with me, I tolerate him, it's a big nasty cycle. He's used to it, Phoebe's used to it, I'm used to it.

The backseat is overall comfortable, seeing as I have it all to myself. The heat is turned on, making me sweat a little underneath my mountain of clothing. The radio's on, but turned down so low that is barely audible. For a moment, I contemplate going to sleep, even thought the entire back seat is leather, and unless it's very warm, it isn't the best thing for sleeping on. But as soon as the thought enters my head, something else enters my line of vision: school.

In truth, I'm not really feeling up for school today. As we pull up (I guess I can't really say "we"; it's technically not my car) I try to find something to stare at other than the mass of people standing outside. For some reason, I tried to bite my fingers through my gloves this morning, and now the very tips of them look like I'm wearing 4-inch acrylics underneath. Part of it (my worrying mind you, not my gloves) is from spending most of the morning wondering if Gerald was giving me this ride because Phoebe had said something she shouldn't have, and the other part because I didn't eat breakfast. Not the best idea…I know, but Miriam's half-baked breakfasts aren't what I'd call "appetizing".

Mom tries, I know. And for the past 3 years, I've stomached her half-baked breakfasts for reasons that have nothing to do with her falling asleep behind our couch.

Rewind my morning four years, and you'd find Dad searching the house for some inane accessory that is supposed to ensure a healthy rise in sales, and mom asleep on or behind the couch for some reason that I don't care to pry into. But then, out of nowhere, Dad's company nearly goes belly up. Turns out workers were getting paid for doing near nothing, the assembly line was clearly inefficient, and the man in charge of handling a large portion of the company's profits wasn't exactly honest with all of the totals. Big Bob's Beepers was about to become a parking lot.

But then, out of nowhere, comes…Mom? Don't ask me where she learned Business Management and Accounting, but needless to say, she saved Dad's company from bankruptcy. She garnished the workers wages to how much they actually worked. After firing the less than trustworthy treasurer, she filed a suit for embezzlement of company funds and questionable accounting practices…and won. After a year or so, Dad thought it was only fair that since she'd done so much for the company, it'd be slightly unethical for it to still be called Big Bob's Beepers. So, as of two years ago, my parents have been the sole owners of five different electronic stores, rightfully named Pataki Electronics, within the tri-county area.

Before I can get (or climb rather) out of Gerald's monstrosity of a vehicle, I have to wait for Phoebe to get out and pull her seat forward. Two door cars are one of the worst inventions man has cursed himself with. But there's not much I can do about that.

"Thanks for the ride…" I say, already walking towards the school. It's a bit too cold to stand out here for too long. Gerald says something to Phoebe, and I can't quite make out what it is. Who cares, as I said, it is too cold to stand out here and ask stupid questions.

It's early, and hopefully there is no love-struck couple making out making out in front of my locker. The hallways are pretty empty, which is a plus. When the hallways are packed with people, then it's bad. Since that means there's a fight nearby. People like to paint HillWood as a safe little suburban town/city, but their wrong. We've got problems just like everybody else, as does our school. I'm not saying we're a bad town, but we're certainly not perfectly either.

For the first time in what seems like years, there is a five-foot radius surrounding my locker that is completely devoid of people. My combination isn't complicated, so I'm in and out of my locker within 2 minutes or so. Just as I'm about to make my escape, a rather delicious scented bag is thrust into my face, aided by a single-worded command:

"Eat."

"How'd you know?" I ask, after swallowing the last of my last hash brown. When someone tells you to eat, and you've skipped breakfast, it's usually wise to follow.

"Know what?" Arnold says, replying with a question, which he knows I hate.

"That I didn't eat…" I say; rattling the McDonald's cup around for the remains of orange juice. The thin cubes of ice, now melted into sheets make a tinkling sound inside the cup as I set it down.

"I didn't. I just bought some extra has browns and thought I'd give them to you."

"Why didn't you give them to Gerald?" I ask, without thinking. I can't just say "Thank You" and move on like a normal person. I have to distrust everyone and their intentions.

"Do you think Gerald really would have been satisfied with only two has browns?"

"Well,…thanks all the same." I reply, crumpling up the bag, ready to hurl it into the nearest trashcan.

"I don't do it for the thanks." he says, smiling.

Then why does he do it? Does he have an "in" with the school nurses? Did Phoebe spill something to him in secret? I'm starting to get a headache, I need to get to class.

"Well, thanks anyway. Bye." I mumble, hoisting my book bag over my shoulder, and walking into opposite direction of the lockers we were leaning against. I'm just a tad too paranoid to talk right now.

B-. B-. B-. B-. B-. B-. B-. B-.

Despite the "Nice Work" plastered on the top, nearly smothering my name in red ink, all I can see is that stupid mark:

B-

All because I used pan. Oh well, can't say I wasn't warned. She said she'd deduct 10 points for not using pencil, and that she did. Frankly, I don't like pencils, and all the other teachers encourage us to use pen, and here, one teacher has to be different.

I've found it a little more difficult to keep my grades "up" lately, if that's what you'd like to call them. I've never been a straight A student, mostly because I never tried. I'd fail a test on purpose, come home, tell my parents, and hope for some kind of "punishment". Call it a sick cry for attention, but it didn't work, so who cares. After that, I actually tried to keep up a decent GPA, and even though I'm still not a straight A student, I can't complain. Not too much anyway.

It's only…11:27, and I have to go to the bathroom again. It really is becoming a pain, but not big enough to skip a day. The school bathrooms are several times worse than the ones at work. The walls are littered with declarations of love in permanent marker, wads of toilet paper hanging from the ceiling, and cigarette butts scattered on the floors. If the boys bathroom is worse, the only difference I can imagine is a urinal thrown in here and there.

I could very well go to the bathroom in the nurses office, the only clean one on campus. The only problem with that is the short trek from my locker to pick up my jacket that's too big to carry around, outside and in between the two athletic fields, into the media center, across the parking lot, and into the school's office building, dodging the "Write her up, she's skipping…" look I get from every administrator I pass. That and having to explain my dilemma to the school nurses, even though they already know the situation. Being sick is very tiring.

There's only a few other girls in the bathroom, thank goodness none are smoking. It's not unusual to see a perfectly manicured hand passing a lit cigarette to another and let out a short, surprised gasp whenever the doors crack. I guess I look odd, popping one pill after another in my mouth, struggling to get them down even though I'm supposed to take them with water. One in particular makes me drowsy in no time flat, and by the time I'm out of the bathroom, I can barely see two feet in front of me.

According to my memory, or lack there of, this is where I blacked out. But according to the administrator, 2 freshman, and janitor, this is where I got the stupid goose egg that probably won't go away for a few weeks…

Yeah, this chapter sucked, especially the end. I've got too much on my mind. I wanted to put this up November 15th (you know why killer scissors…) but oh well. A few hours late is no big deal. Hope you enjoyed the small portions that didn't suck! Review, and don't be afraid to tell me if your confused. Peace out!

-PointyObjects