9th grade
She left.
I worked up the courage to stop by her house; a casual-I-was-just-in-the-neighborhood kind of thing. Olga answered; Helga and her parents had moved downtown. So much for that plan.
I didn't see her again until Rhonda's annual New Year's Eve party.
I knew she was coming with Phoebe, and Phoebe was waiting by the front door for Gerald. I set out in my search for her. Rhonda had such a huge house; I thought I came fairly early and there were quite a few more people that chose to do the same. I liked Rhonda and all, but I really only came to see her.
I found her on the patio, leaning over the rail. Because... 'cause I guess maybe I don't hate you as much as I thought, okay? I guess maybe I... I even kinda like you a little. Heck, I-I guess you might even kinda say I like you a lot. My brain and my heart are racing, and I don't know which one is ahead. "Helga," I say her name so quiet that I don't even hear it. "Helga, I… I was hoping to-" I took a step toward her and she turned to face me.
I cannot form words. The moon is full behind her; her hair is down, full, and flowing down around her shoulders- flowing right into her dress. She is wearing a shimmery gold dress that is reflecting light from inside. She looks like a goddess, golden from head to toe. You didn't really mean all that, did you? You don't really... love me, right? I take a step in her direction and reach my hand out; I want nothing more than to wipe the tear from her face. "There you are-," the words come to me, "just in time for the tango." The sadness is gone from her eyes; I take a small bow while extending my hand to her.
"But Arnold, th-there's no music," her hand is up. Before she can pull it away I gently raise mine to meet hers; she melts away from the rail into my arms.
"Don't worry you're in good hands," I whisper into her ear before we start swaying. I can feel fireworks in my fingers as I spin her out and pull her back in. "Helga," I want her to see into my eyes, into my soul, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you." I turn her slow. My heart beats as fast as her dress shimmers. I dip her low, bringing her right into my body. I place the tip of my nose right against hers; I want her to hear me, I want her to remember me, "Yeah I've just been waiting-," my voice is low, "waiting for the right moment." I spin her again and bring her in close.
"Arnold…" she stops dancing, "I- I…" and she puts her head down.
"Helga, I know you're not blind," I say, lifting her chin so she is looking at me.
Tears well up in her eyes, she draws her arms in to hold herself. "The least you could do is help me out of here," she whispers. I'm confused. Did you just say you love me?
I gave her the easy way out. She wasn't ready.
I took another bow and used that time to hide my own tears. She left the party. She left her purse.
I find Gerald. He asks if I want to get a case of Yahoo and head to Mighty Pete. I don't really feel like having a repeat of last year's pity party. I tuck the purse in my coat and we go to my house. I spend the rest of the night talking conspiracy theories about Helga to Gerald. Phoebe shows up the next morning; she had already been to Rhonda's for the purse. I offer to return it myself, but I know Helga would be embarrassed- and probably mad that she was.
My New Year's resolution is a promise I make to myself: I will handle my saga with Helga by the time I graduate high school, or I will follow my parents into adventure. I start a journal; part in honor of Helga, part in honor of my Dad. I am not good at poetry like Helga, but I make notes of things I see in the city- and I take up sketching. My favorite subject is the bay, followed by the view from my rooftop. But I have written the most on one subject. Helga. And there are so many sketches of her. Maybe I will leave a journal for her to find in return.
I left.
Bob decided that he wanted a big shot penthouse downtown, better for his image. Olga had been having trouble finding a place with 'that homey family feel' for her and her family, so Bob and Miriam gave her MY house and now my room is a home office. I now have a huge room with a closet that makes Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd jealous; I hate it.
I don't see him again until Rhonda's annual New Year's Eve party.
Phoebe and I came over early and got ready at Rhonda's house. Once people started showing up, early mind you- I mean criminy!- it was just too much. There were too many people, and they all seemed to want to talk to me. I liked Rhonda and all, but I really only came to see him.
I went out on the patio and leaned over the railing. I take out my locket and stare at his face. Because... 'cause I guess maybe I don't hate you as much as I thought, okay? I guess maybe I... I even kinda like you a little. Heck, I-I guess you might even kinda say I like you a lot. I try to hold it together, but the air was cold and my body was hot. I shouldn't have come. "Helga," I hear my name. It is quiet. It feels like it is right in my ear, yet a hundred miles away at the same time. "Helga, I… I was hoping to-" I turn and he is standing in front of me. Close, but not so close that we could touch.
I cannot form words. The moon is full behind me; the light from the room inside outlines him. He is still my Prometheus. You didn't really mean all that, did you? You don't really... love me, right? He takes a step in my direction and reaches his hand out; I want nothing more than to wipe the tear from my face, I don't want him to see me cry. "There you are-," his words are soft, careful, "just in time for the tango." I can feel a spark of joy in my eyes; he takes a small bow while extending his hand to me.
"But Arnold, th-there's no music," my hand is up, I am hesitant. Before I can pull it away he gently raises his to meet my fingertips; I melt away from the rail into his arms.
"Don't worry you're in good hands," he whispers into my ear before we start swaying. I can feel fireworks in my fingers as he spins me out and pulls me back in. "Helga," his voice is calm, yet urgent, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you." He turns me slow. My heart is beating faster than a hummingbird. He dips me low, bringing me right into his body. I am so hot; I could burst into flames any moment. Our noses just meet; our souls are touching, it is too much, "Yeah I've just been waiting-," his voice is low, "waiting for the right moment." he spins me again and brings me in close.
"Arnold…" I stop dancing, "I- I…" and I put my head down; I am scared, I don't want him to see.
"Helga, I know you're not blind," he says, lifting my chin so I am looking at him.
Tears well up in my eyes, I pull my arms in; I have to guard my heart. "The least you could do is help me out of here," I whisper. I'm confused. Did you just say you love me?
I took the easy way out. I wasn't ready.
He took a bow, granting me the escape I needed. I left the party. I left my purse.
Which of course I didn't realize until Phoebe and I get to the store and I grab a case of Yahoo soda. She pays and we go to Mighty Pete. I go over every little thing he said with her at least a dozen times. I sob uncontrollably in between. I feel like Olga. This puberty business is terrible. Before, my anger was used to hide my feelings. Now I am just angry… or sad.
Phoebe and I go to her house in the morning, and while I shower she goes back to Rhonda's to get my purse.
My New Year's resolution is a promise I make to myself: I will get over my saga with Arnold by the time I graduate high school, and I will focus on my writing.
*This whole scene is obviously based on the episode "April Fool's Day"
ALSO! I am totally sorry, I had planned to have this whole story done by 3/31, but my husband got food poisoning and the docs thought it might be appendicitis. So we were at the hospital a long time and I didn't get to write during my regular time... sorry :(
