Clunk.
Helga flung her hockey bag around her shoulder and into the trunk of her car. She shoved the rest of her paraphernalia in behind it as best she could. One of her teammates passed by her on his way to his own car.
"Hey, Helga," he waved, "nice game tonight. See ya tomorra' for practice." Helga half smiled at him, giving a lazy wave in return.
"See ya," she replied casually before closing her trunk. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out her keys as she stepped around to the door. Sliding the key in, she tried to turn to unlock it, but the key would not budge.
"Oh, come on…" she grunted as she lifted her second hand into grip the key better. She twisted the key as hard as she could; it still would not budge.
"Criminy! You piece of crap!" She groaned out through gritted teeth. At last she pulled the key out and slid it back in, only to have it click in further than last time. Her face fell, brow now crossed. The key wasn't in all the way. This time, with a quick turn, the door unlocked with ease.
"Grr…" she grunted again as she got into her car and slammed the door in frustration. She quickly started the car and drove off.
Once home, Helga parked her car in her usual spot in the street in front of her house. She made her way up the stoop to her front door, getting slower with each step. She could hear the heated yelling of her father inside coming through the door. She sighed, her previously happy feelings now replaced with anxiety, worry.
Helga slowly opened the door and walked inside, acting as casual as she could-trying to remain invisible. That was something easy to do in this family. As she turned to lock the door, Big Bob's words only escalated. And from the sound of it, he was directing his anger at the television.
"You friggin' idiot! That's gonna cost us the whole damn game!"
Helga wondered if there was a more passionate, and equally stupid, fan of football. She quickly locked the door behind her.
"Go, go, go… Ahhhhh, mother of God! Not again…" He grunted from the living room.
Helga took off her jacket, hanging it up on the coat rack by the door. She turned and walked down the hallway, stopping at the entrance to the living room. There sat her father: wearing boxers and a sleeveless t-shirt in his big brown chair with a beer in one hand and bag of chips under the other. She stood there momentarily, glancing between him and the television. He finally noticed her.
"Oh, hi Olga," he spat out, briefly glancing in her direction before turning back to the television, "Tackle him! Take him down!"
Helga remained silent, hands in her pockets.
"Ah, mother of-" he scowled at the TV again. He looked over at her briefly.
"Yeah, yeah. How was your thing tonight?" he asked her, only half paying attention to the conversation.
Helga leaned against the archway more. She spoke in a quiet voice, practically murmuring it. "We won two to nothi-,"
"That's great," he replied quickly, interrupting her answer. Did he ever pay attention to her? "Yes! Yes! Go! YEAH! Touchdoooown!"
Helga scoffed and turned to go to the kitchen, where Miriam had passed out in over the table in one of the chairs. She didn't bother to greet her mother. She could use the extra sleep, no doubt. Instead, Helga simply went to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, and left, walking up the stairs and into her room.
She kicked off her shoes and plopped down in her bed on her stomach, exhausted, disheartened. The praise she gained in the game from her teammates and fans still meant nothing to her parents. She was still invisible to them. They never even went to her games to support her. That was nothing new to her, however. They had always ignored her: even when she was just a toddler.
She rolled over, remembering her first day of preschool…
Her older sister impressed their parents with her piano talent, and Helga tugged on Bob's leg to take her to school. He shooed her away as usual and she decided to go by herself. The cold, rainy day only made her feel worse as she wearily made the trip to her preschool. Along the way, a large dog stole her lunchbox, leaving her without food for that day. And finally, when she made it to the school, tears welling up in her eyes, the rain stopped. Helga looked up to see a green umbrella over her head. Turning around, she saw the boy who held it for her. His light blonde hair and football shaped head flashed a friendly smile toward her.
"Hi," he greeted her, "I like your bow, cuz it's pink like your pants." And with that, he turned to go into the school. Helga stared at him walk away. He actually noticed her. He made her feel special. He was the only thing that felt right that day; the little bit of daylight on that cold, rainy morning. She instantly fell in love with him.
Helga bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes again as she lied on her mattress. She clenched her teeth together and rolled over, her bottom lip just beginning to tremble. For being good at hiding her emotions in public, she let them out from time to time in private. There, no one-not even Phoebe-would see. Helga reached over to the nightstand by her bed, setting down her Gatorade bottle. She pulled open the drawer and reached inside. She dug under a few things and finally pulled it out.
It was her old locket; the locket that still held the picture of Arnold from years ago in the frame. Helga held it in her palm, bringing it closer. She stared down at it. A faint layer of dust had collected on the golden trim, but Helga gently wiped it off with her thumb. A teardrop dotted the glass front, dripping from the end of her nose. Helga sniffled, quickly wiping her finger over the droplet.
"Dammit, Arnold," she whispered under her breath to no one, "why did you leave me? Why…?" Another tear trickled out of the corner of her eye. Unexpectedly, her cell phone buzzed on her nightstand nearby. Helga's head shot up as she reached for it. Helga sniffled a few more times, bringing a sleeve to wipe away her tears and recompose herself. Finally, she opened her phone and brought it to her ear.
"He-hello?" she stammered slightly.
"Hey, Helga, it's Phoebe."
"Oh. Hey, Phoebs," Helga replied as casually as she could.
"How did your game go?" Apparently, Helga did just that, as Phoebe didn't notice.
"Good. We won two to nothing."
"You did? That's terrific! I'm so sorry I missed it…" At least Phoebe still cared about her.
"Oh, it's fine. How's your date with Gerald?" Helga asked in return, trying to keep the conversation moving-and not about her.
"It was great. We went to Chez Paris and then on a carriage ride through the park." Her voice got a little squeakier, which occurred when she was really happy.
"Sounds fun." Helga cracked a slight smile hearing her shrill voice.
"Oh, it most certainly was."
There was a momentary pause. Helga glanced down at the locket still in her hand; it's gold chain draping down her arm. A fresh set of tears began to fill her eyes again.
"Helga?" came the voice from the phone next to her ear.
"Yeah, Phoebs?" Helga sniffed rather loudly. Phoebe must have heard that.
"Are you okay?"
Helga sighed. She did not want to get into this right now. But what choice did she have? Before Helga could decide, she found herself speaking.
"Not really, Phoebe. I still can't get over it."
There was a pause from the other end of the line.
"Over what?" She could sense Phoebe feared what the answer might be. Helga looked down at her locket again, tears clouding her vision. She squeezed it tightly in her palm, leaning her head back against the wall.
"Never mind," she choked out.
Another pause.
"…Alright, Helga. You want me to let you go?" Phoebe always seemed to know when she needed to be alone.
"Yeah," Helga replied softly.
"Okay. See you tomorrow, Helga."
"See ya, Phoebs."
Click.
Helga sat there; looking down at the old dust-covered picture of Arnold she had kept all these years. Her face wore a blank expression, even with a tear sliding down her cheek. Of course she still loved him. She never stopped. He treated her a way no one else ever had before. She thought that maybe – just maybe – he loved her too. Thought.
Helga sank down in her bed, rolling over and sighing heavily. Her eyes fluttered briefly, trying to hold back tears and keep her from falling asleep. Her efforts were in vain, however. The minutes passed and she grew sleepy lying there. Her eyes closed for the last time and she drifted off into sleep-the locket still in her hand all the while.