Disclaimer: I unquestionably, assuredly, without a shadow of a doubt, do not own Hey Arnold! (But if there was a way to own it for cheap, I would've done it already and I wouldn't need a disclaimer!)
Chapter Two - Please Remedy My Confusion
Rhonda had never screamed so hard, so loud and so shrill in her whole life. She sat up in bed with a nerve wracking start, eyes wide open, breathing hastily. Her lips assumed a closed lip grin, indebted to be enveloped by the placid jet blackness. She was pleased to be protected, not to mention intact in her room, something she had not experienced since leaving Arnold's boarding house. She peered at the alarm clock on her dresser.
3:20 am, it read, which was three hours too untimely to be up. Nevertheless, for the time being, she could not sleep anymore, not after that horrible fantasy; a nightmare, rather.
Her nightmare about…him.
Thaddeus "Curly" Gammelthorpe.
Poor, poor, sad, little demented Curly.
The calamity commenced out as a favorable dream. Rhonda took the bus to school, amassing ample of adulations from her classmates. They were fixated on her new carmine SoftWalk Adoras and her up-to-date charcoal, tight fitting jeans that looked so first-rate, let alone dignified.
"Well I'll be darned, Rhonda!" Stinky gawked with a huge grin, sitting a few rows behind her. "Not only do you smell lovely but your wardrobe is equally as first-rate and dignified!"
"Go bug off, cheeseball", was what Rhonda itched to say. Instead she turned toward him and nodded with a smile. "Why thank you, Stinky."
Once they all arrived at school, she entered Mr. Simmons's classroom.
Then the twist emerged.
She advanced in alone, and recognized Curly standing on a desk with a noose around his neck that came down from the ceiling. He confessed he plunged so far in his downward spiral and was so dejected about being disparaged by Rhonda. He forewarned to commit suicide unless Rhonda told him she loved him and would betroth him.
As shortly as she obstinately stated him "yes" to both conditions, Mr. Simmons popped out of nowhere as the designated minister standing behind a podium, and had them married as husband and wife. An organ player was behind him, playing Richard Wagner's "Bridal Chorus".
Rhonda shuddered. Her glare could stab Curly's eyes to dissolution. "Wait! We can't be married! We're only nine!"
She observed herself and clamored. Her prepubescent body had blossomed into a curvaceous figure a supermodel would beg to have. She shrieked in amazement at how she suddenly wore an elegant, snow-white wedding dress. She stared across at Curly who faced her, his smile giving her shivers. He had grown as well and was outfitted suitably for the occasion. To Rhonda's right, Helga, Phoebe and Big Patty stood lined up, posing as her bridesmaids, wearing ivory dresses. Nadine, standing right next to Rhonda as her maid of honor, nudged her and smiled.
"Isn't this great, Rhonda?"
Rhonda did her best to keep up her fake smile, although her sarcasm still shined through. "Yeah. Best moment of my life."
Beside Curly to his left, his best man Arnold, Gerald and Brainy who were his groomsmen were lined up, attired in tuxedos. All of them had accelerated in age as well.
"Oh, who am I fooling?" Rhonda asked. She sniffed, unable to cease her tears from descending from her eyes. "This can't be happening! I can't believe this! Getting married…to him? Impossible!"
Gerald whistled, shaking his head as he regarded at Rhonda. He inclined over next to Arnold and whispered in his ear. "She's a boooooooooooooold woman."
Arnold smiled at Gerald. "I know this sounds weird, but, they look kind of nice together."
Gerald grimaced. "Arnold. Stop. You're scarin' me, man."
Helga watched Rhonda with her half-lidded gaze, her heinous smirk eliciting Rhonda's hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "Aw stop your whining and suck it up, Princess. We helped pitch in for the wedding planning so you better not mess it up."
Phoebe nodded. "That's correct, Rhonda. You made an agreement and you'd better keep your end of the bargain."
Helga shoved Rhonda from the back so she stood closer to Curly. Rhonda looked back at Helga. She could tell Helga saw her antagonisms to the matrimony as absurd. "Now hurry up and kiss and stuff so I can get back home to my pastrami on rye and watch Wrestlemania."
Mr. Simmons beamed at Curly and then at Rhonda. "And so, by the power vested in me by the state of Washington, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss the bride."
Rhonda closed her eyes and sighed. "Oh God no."
The organ player whirled his head around to reveal it was a smiling Eugene, who started to play Felix Mendelssohn's "Wedding March". Curly lunged at Rhonda and besmirched his lips over hers for what felt like minutes, inducing her to waken from her sleep with an ear splitting scream.
But why? Why did she have that dream about Curly? Was it because she detected guilty he died and her remorse is being expressed in her sleep by her subconscious? Could it be she possibly missed him?
Oh Rhonda, stop being so ridiculous. He was just an okay guy, but he went too far with me, and there was no other way I could stop him! What else could I do?
Rhonda lay back down but recoiled from touching her sheets and pillows that were damp with her sweat. "Eww! I can't believe I actually left all this sweat in my sleep! Yuck! Even my hands are wet!"
She groaned in disgust and lay down, discontent about what her sweat glands emancipated during the night. Fortunately, her rapid respiring started to taper, evanescing her vision jet black. She smiled, not having to worry about her displeasure for three more hours.
As soon as the bell rang to signal the end recess, Rhonda abdicated the playground and went inside Mr. Simmons's classroom. She questioned why the room was a bit darker than usual, but thought it was no big deal. Taken aback to be the only one inside, she took her routine seat in front of Nadine and patiently waited. She sat sideways, crossing her right leg over her left. She started to thumb through a fashion magazine, smirking at the topnotch outfits she would in due time ask her parents to buy.
"This dress right here is so chic."
"Rhonda…"
She uplifted her head at the light murmur of her name. Her hands lowered the Preteen Miss magazine in her lap at the sight of the hazy, murky silhouette who entered the room and stood by Mr. Simmons's desk. A large hood covered its face.
"Rhooooooooonda…" it whispered again, ambling sluggishly towards her.
Rhonda watched with bulging eyes at the person. "Who are you?"
"Rhooooooooondaaaaaaaaaa…tell them the truuuuuuuuuuuuth…"
Rhonda slipped out of her desk. Her magazine plummeted to the floor when she stood up. She backtracked toward the rear of the room. "Who are you? And what are you talking about?"
"Tell them the truth, Rhonda…teeeeeell theeeeeeeeem…the truuuuuuuuuuuuth! So we can be freeeeeeee of our paaaaaaaaaain!"
"The truth about what?"
A glaring blaze radiated down between the enigmatic person and Rhonda. "About the BOTH OF US, RHONDA!"
The person stepped into the light and took off its hood to reveal Curly. She screamed at the revelation that his lips had been cross-stitched, secured with solid, dingy clamps. His eyes were drooping out of its sockets, dangling on the sides of his face.
"TELL THEEEEEEEEEM SO WE CAN BE FREEEEEEEEEE!"
A vociferous shriek exuded from Rhonda's lips as she jerked awake while sitting in her desk.
Propitiously, the bell rang at the same time, burying the range of her yell. Her eyes frantically scoured the room until she pinpointed her best acquaintance since preschool standing over her. Rhonda jumped, hitting her back against the wooden chair. She groaned and rubbed her sides, her cheeks warm from her embarrassing actions. She couldn't believe she actually had a nightmare in front of everyone.
Rhonda gathered the audacity to stare her acquaintance in the eyes, albeit for a few seconds. She couldn't hold it and diverted it to her desk, grasping she just had to be flushing in front of everyone.
"Oh, it's you, Nadine."
Nadine retreated off and plopped in her seat converse from Rhonda. "Rhonda, you okay? It looked like you had a bad dream."
More like a nightmare! Rhonda thought. She caressed the back of her head and let out a meager, anxious laugh, cloaking up her humiliation. She beheld the other kids fleeing class and brought her attentiveness back to Nadine.
"Oh, I'm just fine! There's nothing to worry about!" Rhonda said. "I just realized that um…I didn't do my homework and, um-"
She faltered when the look in Nadine's eyes vocalized louder than words. Nadine wasn't going to buy her made up concession anytime soon. "I was a little tired, okay? I was excited about some new Nancy Spumoni boots I bought last night and so I couldn't sleep. Satisfied?"
Nadine tilted her head, her eyes slightly narrow while she perceived Rhonda place a hand over her mouth and fake a yawn. Rhonda shifted her hand away and exhaled, quivering at how much uneasiness built up inside her. She saw Nadine almost like a sister, but fabricating fallacies and contriving falsehoods was the only option to exercise at the moment. She assessed, what Nadine doesn't know won't hurt her, right?
Nadine shrugged and got up from her seat with a few boxes of roaches in her hands. She jammed one in her backpack, leaving the other out on her desk. "Okay, if you say so."
If I tell Nadine the truth, she'll think I'm crazy! There's no way I'm telling her or anyone else I killed Curly, thought Rhonda, tapping her fingers on her desk.
"Hmmm," Nadine said. She held up her jar at eye level, observing the blue Glaucopsyche lygadamus palosverdesensis butterfly inside. She smiled as it fluttered around in the container for a brief moment before it landed on the bottom and folded its wings. "It's so sad what happened to Curly, huh?"
"Yeah, right, it's such a shame. Although we didn't see eye to eye, I kind of feel sorry for him," Rhonda said.
She thrust her textbooks into her bag and crammed them in. If only Nadine comprehended she had been telling the truth, hidden underneath her artificial, apathetic attitude, perchance she might attest everything to her. Rhonda lugged her bag off the ground and put the strap over her shoulder. A glance at Nadine was all Rhonda needed to get the instruction across that she yearned to leave. Nadine gathered her things and followed Rhonda out of the room. They strolled down the hall and out the front entryway of P.S. 118, pleased to hear kids laughing and conversing. Rhonda felt relieved to witness and savor the sunshine after the storm cloud of Curly's death passed over their heads.
Nadine kept her head down, paying close consideration to each step she made down the stairs. "Class isn't gonna be the same with him gone, huh?"
Rhonda nodded her head in accession, nevertheless malcontent with speaking about anything to do with Curly.
The look in Nadine's eyes, the way they shimmered, shook Rhonda's heart. "Do you think you miss him?"
Rhonda swallowed the large, icky lump down her throat and could only shrug in acknowledgment to Nadine's inquiry. She wouldn't dare admit she missed Thaddeus "Curly" Gammelthorpe. However, she couldn't say she wouldn't miss him either. Rhonda knew she was born with everything handed to her on a silver platter and wasn't exactly a saint, but she was positive she wasn't that atrocious.
So, she had to take the middle path and remain indifferent.
Soon, the two girls made it to the bus stop where Arnold, Gerald, Stinky, Harold, Sid, Helga, Phoebe and a few others congregated and were talking and laughing.
Nadine asked, "So, what you got planned for today, Rhonda?"
"Umm…" Rhonda looked up, the cogs in her brain convoluting urgently to come up with a successful lie. "My mother is taking me to a fabulous soiree."
Nadine could only nod and blink a few times after inhaling the misconstrued information Rhonda spit out. "That sounds nice. I'm gonna head over to the lake. You know, go find some new butterflies to add to my collection. I'm sure Curly would've liked to come along. He liked to join me in my frog and butterfly hunting excursions."
Rhonda's hands curled into tense fists, making her bite her bottom lip. Her eyebrows creased as she watched Nadine babble on and on about Curly.
I swear to God. If she says one more thing about Curly, I'll scream my lungs out.
"Curly would've loved to-"
"Arrrrrrrrrrgh!" Rhonda said so strident, she made Nadine cringe and flinch. "Please, Nadine! Stop talking about Curly so much! He's dead and he's not coming back, okay? Goodness!"
Rhonda heard everyone discontinue chatting. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, which made her clam up and look at Nadine, aspiring she could pinpoint solace in this incidence of humiliation.
"You see that, Pheebs? Looks like Princess over there finally flipped her lid," Rhonda heard Helga say to Phoebe. Helga laughed and whispered some more words into Phoebe's ear.
"What's gotten into her?" Sid asked Stinky, who could only shrug his shoulders.
"Beats me."
Nadine's eyebrows furrowed. She shook her head, her cold glare making Rhonda think twice before saying anything smart.
"Rhonda, look-"
Rhonda placed her hands on her hips and stuck her nose up, turning her head. "Just drop it Nadine, okay?"
Nadine's glare grew exponentially. She folded her arms and turned her back on Rhonda. "Fine, whatever you say."
Rhonda felt a gentle hand rest on her shoulder. She turned and spotted Arnold, who pulled his hand away and returned it back by his side. She could always peruse his face like a book. His face was long with concern. "Rhonda, are you okay?"
"I'm quite fine, Arnold," Rhonda said with a feeble smile. "I've just been a little stressed lately, that's all."
Arnold shrugged. "Are you sure? Phoebe said after school she found you in the girls' bathroom crying after Curly died, and-"
Gerald walked up to Arnold and patted him on the shoulder. "C'mon Papa Theresa, she said she's fine. Don't worry about it."
"I guess you're right."
Rhonda's grin augmented a little. "Thank you, Gerald. And Arnold, I appreciate your concern, but please, no more discussions about Curly, okay?"
Minutes later, the bus arrived. Everyone filed in and showed their bus passes so they could sit down. Rhonda and Nadine chose the seat in the front, reserved just for them.
As the bus traveled along its route, the two girls mostly kept to themselves. They would create small talk that only lasted a few seconds. Otherwise, they were peculiarly quiet. Rhonda later became wearied of the awkward silence. She sighed and placed a hand on Nadine's shoulder.
"Look Nadine, I apologize for yelling at you earlier," Rhonda said. "I guess I finally realized he's gone."
Nadine nodded. "It's all right."
She got up when the bus came to a stop, jar in hand and walked out to the aisle. She stopped before she went out the door and looked over her shoulder at Rhonda, eyes forlorn, her lips curved down. "Call me later. Okay?"
"Okay."
Rhonda watched Nadine get off at her stop. She scrutinized every step Nadine's black shoes made on the sidewalk. She observed Nadine wave and say hello to Harvey the mailman, who returned her greeting when they passed each other.
Rhonda ceased being a voyeur once the bus pulled off from the curb, headed down the street toward Rhonda's stop on the other side of town. Rhonda turned so she faced the back of the bus, watching Nadine's body shrink into a small dot in the distance.
Sorry Nadine… thought Rhonda. She sat normally in her seat, hands folded in her lap. She was incapable of looking at anyone in the bus the rest of her trip back home.
I need to keep my wish for Curly's death a secret no matter what, Rhonda pondered, looking out her window at the pedestrians and buildings and shops the bus passed by. Maybe after people forget about Curly, I can finally stop feeling so guilty about it. I just hope they do first, before I feel too guilty and ultimately have to tell the truth.
Time flew by faster than she could comprehend. It was already dinner time. Other than the ticking from the clock, the room was quiet.
"Rhonda dear, you haven't touched your dinner. Shrimp and scallops Fettuccine is one of your favorite dishes," Rhonda's mother said. She took a small sip from her glass of wine. She beheld her daughter, her head bowed and eyes glued on her plate.
"I know, mummy."
After Rhonda responded, she averted her eyes elsewhere, opting to stare at the empty chair usually occupied by her father. For the next few days he would be out of town for an important meeting. Rhonda played with her food, dragging her noodles along her plate with her fork.
"Then what seems to be the matter? It's not the boots, is it?" Mrs. Lloyd said. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I thought I reminded Buckley they were supposed to be red, not black."
I'm sorry mummy, but I can't tell you.
Rhonda shook her head at her mother busy reprimanding her husband. "No, mummy. The boots are indubitably exemplary!"
Rhonda finally put a forkful of food in her mouth. With each bite she took, more distress and culpability doused her conscience. After she consumed her meal she entered the bathroom and took her time removing her contacts and settled into her bubble bath prepared by her maid, taking in every breath of the lemongrass scent. After she got out and dried off, she lethargically brushed her teeth and her tongue, and cleansed her mouth out with her antiseptic mouth rinse. She methodically changed into her princess pajamas and slipped into bed, unable to remove the disconsolate look off her face and lay her head snugly on her pillow.
I feel so hideous lying so much. But I can't tell anyone. I can't tell anyone that I'm starting to feel sorry that I murdered Curly…
Her eyelids started to close.
Not only that. The worst thing is I'd have to reveal…that, well…I kind of…
Her vision became blurry.
Perchance…
Her dejection started to subside, replaced by tranquility.
Presumably…
She calmly exhaled.
Miss him.
At that moment, her eyes closed and permitted her mind and body to plunge into a deep sleep.