22: Tangled in Fear

Ten days after the operation, Miles was still in the hospital – "resting and recovering," the doctor had said. Stella lived and breathed there, while Arnold and his grandparents visited each morning and afternoon. They brought Miles every trinket from home they could think of: crumbling pieces of asphalt from Ernie's latest demolition, photos of Abner enjoying his eight A.M. bacon. Even a Get Well card from Oskar, with every word except better spelled correctly.

Still, Arnold couldn't shake his nerves. Alone in his bedroom, his mind wandered to dark places. And so, he resorted to turning to the one person who could – somewhat ironically – provide him with a sense of calm.

"Are you done with practice?" he muttered into the receiver of his cell phone. His notebooks were splayed out on every corner of his desk, and still, he wasn't even halfway through the homework due the next day.

"Yeah, Football Head, I am."

"Well, do you think… do you think maybe you'd be able to come over? I mean, please don't feel obligated or anything – I was just thinking, maybe we could work on the English – "

But the line was dead; Helga had already hung up the phone. She appeared in his bedroom doorway ten minutes later, looking very out of breath as she flung her backpack onto his rug and began sifting through its contents.

"You have no idea how long I've been trying to work on this essay," Arnold groaned, running a hand through his hair.

"Wrong. I do know, Arnoldo, because you've always been crap at this." She rolled her eyes as she whipped out her journal. "How many times do I have to tell you to outline your argument before you start writing it? Otherwise you just end up writing a whole bunch of stuff that goes nowhere."

"It's just… I don't know what I want to say."

"Well, that's your whole problem," she retorted. "When are you planning on figuring that out?"

Hey Eugene, read the text from Layla Anderson. Ur coming to the drama celebration later, right? We missed u at the last one. Mrs. Persad says pls come and make sure u eat the tortilla chips cuz we have a lot.

Eugene sighed, laying his phone down again on the floor without answering Layla. If he didn't get his trigonometry homework done, he was almost certainly going to fail out of the class. He hadn't been able to focus for weeks; spacing out during school, and again at home while he was supposed to be studying. He unzipped his Abdicator-and-the-Fireball-from-Mars-themed knapsack and turned it upside down on the carpet.

Unfortunately, he was struck immediately by the absence of one very important thing.

"Oh gosh, my textbook!" he moaned out loud. "I left it at school."

He considered going back, but would anything except for the gym entrance be open anymore? The main doors would probably be closed, locked up until the next morning.

"What am I gonna do?" Panic began to bubble up in Eugene's chest. He'd already been late turning in at least a dozen assignments this year. One more, just one, and he knew he'd be a goner. Whipping out his phone again, he began scrolling through his not-too-lengthy contact list for someone who could help him out. Sheena didn't even take trigonometry; her advanced math skills had landed her in Pre-Calculus with a class of juniors and seniors. So Eugene's finger hovered instead over the first name in his phone: Arnold Shortman.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him when Arnold's reply to his text came back almost instantly. Yeah, I have my textbook. Of course you can borrow it, Eugene. Come on over.

Thanks buddy, Eugene texted back as he leapt up, his foot accidentally catching on the strap of his bag and sending him sailing to the floor. From the ground, he fumbled for his fallen phone and finished, You're a real pal.

"No, no, no," Helga said irritably, crossing out an entire paragraph of Arnold's paper with her pencil. "Don't use a stupid analogy like this in an essay for Mr. Turner's class. He'll skin you alive."

"Okay," he agreed. He watched as flecks of eraser dust flew out sideways with Helga's aggression. The winter sunset was funneling into the room through his skylight, illuminating the gold in her hair with its dark blue and white hues. She looked so pretty, Arnold thought.

"Would you quit staring at me like that, Hair Boy? Sheesh, you're wigging me out."

"Sorry," he said hastily. He moved down from his desk chair to sit beside her on the floor.

"There," Helga announced with a tone of finality in her voice. "Ditched the stupid metaphors, fixed the possessive pronouns, strengthened your conclusion. Now it'll be less embarrassing for you when you have to turn this thing in tomorrow."

"I really appreciate it." He rubbed his eyes in exhaustion and then paused as his phone buzzed beside him. "Eugene's texting me. He forgot his math textbook."

"Figures."

"You know, Helga," Arnold said softly. "It's... it's really nice to be able to talk to you again."

"Must be. I'm a real special person."

He laughed and prodded her with his foot. "Yeah, you are."

Helga's face reddened visibly. But she kept her eyes downcast, fighting to maintain her determinedly blasé expression as she twirled her pencil around in her hands. "Think your dad'll be in the hospital for a lot longer now?"

"Honestly – I don't know. He has a pretty unique medical history. They want to monitor him for at least a little longer before he gets released to regular life again."

"I guess that makes sense."

"My mom keeps telling me that things are looking as good as they can be. That she's sure he'll be home soon. And it's not that I don't believe her, it's just… it's just hard sometimes. I can't explain it."

"You don't have to explain anything, Arnold. How could it not be hard? It's the scariest damn thing in the whole world to you."

"Yeah." He looked down at his hands before offering her a halfhearted smile. "How's your family been doing?"

"Same old crap. Bob still yelling at everyone, Olga playing fairy princess, Miriam still drunk."

"I hoped they would be doing better," Arnold said sadly. "I mean, they seemed like they were doing a little better last year. Your mom really seemed like she was in recovery."

Helga scowled, needling her fingernails into her thighs. "Yeah, but see, there's really no recovery with Miriam. Only false starts and seven thousand setbacks."

"What happened to her AA group?"

"Damn it, Arnoldo, I don't know. She still tries to go sometimes, but mostly she just falls off the wagon and can never get back on it."

"There might be other things," Arnold said thoughtfully. "AA doesn't have to be for everyone, right? Maybe something else would help her."

"Like what, a blessing from the Dalai Lama?"

"No, just – something. We'd have to look into it, I don't really know."

Helga began to drum her fingers along her journal before finally opening it up, flipping through pages and pages of stanzas scribed in purple ink.

"Hey," Arnold blurted out. "Is that for that creative writing class you're taking?"

She gave him a steely glare rather than answer his question.

"I was just asking," he said, trying to backpedal. He knew how secretive she was about her general love of all things romantic, poetry especially.

"Yes. It's for my creative writing class."

"Well, I think that's really cool. That must be really fun for you."

"Oh, it's just tons of fun," Helga said drily. "And although I'm sure it would be super exciting and not at all humiliating to be forced to read my actual poems about getting my heart broken in front of the entire class, it's almost as good reading the bullshit I write exclusively for Ms. Jenkins about cereal boxes and sunny days instead."

He blinked. "I—"

"Don't comment," she snapped. "I'm not emotionally equipped to handle that right now."

Eugene shivered as he knocked at the boarding house doors. The wind was howling, the sky had darkened to black, and to make matters worse, snow had begun to fall in sleety patches, making the ground so slippery he'd fallen on his face four times on the way over.

The door swung open. Arnold's grandmother was standing there at the threshold, dressed in a blue button-down suit and large, pointy English riding boots. She was closely trailed by her husband, who was grumbling under his breath as he attempted to fasten a bobby pin into the curls of his George Washington wig.

"Well hello there, young Governor!" Gertie exclaimed. "How splendid to see you."

"What?" Eugene asked.

"The sworn members of the Oval Office weren't expecting your presence till sundown Tuesday."

"Oh no, ma'am. I'm just here to see Arnold. He said I could borrow his trigonometry textbook."

"Up the stairs," Phil said, motioning with his hands and in the process dropping both the bobby pin and the wig. "Dagnabbit! How is this supposed to help Miles again?"

"Why, the blessings of the presidency always ensure a speedy circulatory system recovery," Gertie chattered spiritedly as Eugene slipped past.

He managed to make it up both flights of stairs without tripping, a feat he felt proud of as he rapped anxiously at Arnold's partly ajar bedroom door. Cracking it all the way open before receiving an answer, he was met with the sight of both Arnold and Helga sprawled out on the floor.

"Oh, sorry," Eugene mumbled, suddenly flustered. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"No, no – we're just doing homework," Arnold said quickly, springing to his feet. "Here, Eugene, my math textbook's right on my desk. The assignment is on page two hundred –"

But Eugene had suddenly frozen in place.

"—And if you get confused, like I did, just remember, you're not supposed to use the function we started going over at the end of class on Friday, that won't be until tomorrow night's homework."

Eugene took a tentative step closer to the gentle mewing sound he was sure he had heard. In seconds, a teensy, fuzzy orange tabby cat came slinking out from under the bed.

"Oh my gosh," he whispered. "Is it… is it really you?"

"Who?" Arnold asked, looking bewildered. "Wait, what?"

Eugene was too stunned to answer him. He held out his hand; the cat bounded over to him and began purring incessantly against his palm.

"It is. It is really you. I knew you would be okay in the end. I just knew it." He could feel hot tears pricking at his eyes.

"Um... Eugene... do you… uh…" Arnold hesitated. "Do you know Cadence?"

Beside him, Helga let out an incredulous snort as her eyebrow shot up to her hairline.

And Eugene didn't know exactly why.

But suddenly, he broke open.

The words began spilling out of him as he stroked the cat's fur, and Arnold and Helga stared at him, confusion miring the expressions on their faces.

X

It had been hot that day – so hot that even the pool provided little relief from the strong August temperatures. But Eugene and Sheena had been spending their last few weeks of freedom there anyway, along with half the Hillwood student body. Sheena liked the pool for its extensive snack bar, which now included vegan ice cream cones. While she swam, sunbathed, and chatted up the boys at the dessert stand, Eugene sat quietly on his beach towel, fully clothed in his shorts and T-shirt.

The Hillwood football team often came to the pool together, on breaks from their conditioning sessions for preseason. Eugene wasn't indiscrete – he didn't like to think he was – but the truth was, he was bored, and the concrete spacing was cramped, and his close proximity to everyone in sight made it difficult not to look. They had the most amazing bodies, each of those team members, with muscles rippling out over their bathing suits, arms strong enough to carry a damsel in distress, legs toned and tanned from running up and down the fields. Daydreaming was usually sufficient to keep Eugene distracted long enough for the humid, crowded community center to be tolerable, at least until Sheena was ready to leave.

But that day, they'd already been there for hours, and still, Sheena wanted to stay even later. She was caught up in a conversation with one of the lifeguards, who'd approached her not only to recommend a nut-and-lactose-free Popsicle, but to compliment her on her classy one-piece bathing suit.

"I'm glad you're having fun, Sheena, but I think I'm going to head out," Eugene told his friend as dusk struck.

As he ambled out of the gates and down the sidewalk, his mind wandered to the clouds. He was busy wondering about all sorts of things – whether his mom had finished sewing the labels into his new underwear, what he'd have for dinner, when he'd finish his summer reading books – when a soft, almost inaudible mewing sound cut into his thoughts.

Eugene paused. The feline wailing was so timid he might have missed it had he not been walking in the narrow alleyway directly behind his building, where it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. He followed the sound of the crying to the circle of trashcans, bins of empty bottles, and pieces of ancient furniture that rested on the asphalt. There, hiding amongst a pile of rotten apple cores and someone's torn couch, was a tiny orange tabby cat. He poked his head up as Eugene approached him, rubbing his whiskers up against the cotton stuffing poking out of the couch's arm.

"Hey there, little guy," Eugene said, bending over to scratch his tiny ears. "You poor little thing. You're a redhead, just like me. Do people think you're unlucky, too?"

The cat began to purr.

"No, of course not." He chuckled richly. "What was I thinking? Black cats are unlucky, not red ones. Well, that's wonderful, because you look like you could use a home, and I sure couldn't have afforded any more misfortune."

Eugene scooped him up, smiling to himself as the kitten stretched his paws happily across his chest.

"Nope, no collar. But I'll take care of you, don't worry."

"Is that what you'll do?"

Eugene jumped. He hadn't even heard anyone else in the alleyway. But suddenly Wolfgang was right there, still dressed in his swim trunks. His smile looked eerily carved, like the grin of a jack 'o lantern.

"Whatchya got there, fag?"

Eugene swallowed. "My name is Eugene."

"I see you staring all the time, you little pervert. People like you make me sick."

Eugene froze. His stomach suddenly felt like he was stuck on the upside-down roller coaster at Dino Land again.

"What's that rancid ball of fluff in your arms?"

"He's – he's a stray," Eugene stammered, taking a step back. "He needs a home."

"Yeah? I think I can give him one." Wolfgang laughed horrifically as he lunged forward and pried the cat away. Eugene watched in horror as he jammed the little creature into his duffel bag, ignoring the pained cries of protest as he zipped the bag back up.

"Hey, let him go!" Eugene hollered, clenching his fists at his side.

"Or what? You gonna wave your fairy princess wand and make the big bad bully go away?"

He could feel himself shaking. He knew something terrible was about to happen to him. He just didn't know what.

"I'll tell you what freaks like you deserve," Wolfgang breathed. His hands were close to the elastic waistband of Eugene's shorts.

"I'm not a freak."

"Then prove it."

"I can't... I don't have to prove anything."

But his voice was moving in and out, coming from somewhere far away. As the pain came, he muffled his screams, closed his eyes to reach that place - the place far beyond the one his body was in.

It wasn't until hours later, when he was in the bathroom, stretching his palms along the dried blood on the backs of his legs, when he would start to remember.

X

Eugene hadn't realized how late it was getting, nor how wet his face was until he collapsed on the rug. His body felt weak, drained. The illusion he had clung to just to get himself through his days had snapped, and in its breaking, he felt emptier than ever before. He was like a skin or a shell of a person, mere remnants of someone that might have once been whole.

It was several seconds, or maybe minutes or hours, before he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, prompting him to look up again.

Arnold's face was gentle, full of compassion. Beside him, Helga was staring at him with her mouth open. She was the one who spoke first.

"What the hell," she spit out. Her face was the color of glue. Arnold glanced at her for a moment, but before anyone could say another word she had raced toward his desk, tugged the wastebasket out from underneath it, and begun retching into the wicker-wrapped metal. Arnold rushed over to her and began patting her hair while she vomited.

"Oh, no," Eugene groaned, cupping his face with his hands. The smell of vomit made him queasy. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"Eugene!" Helga panted, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and pulling away from Arnold's grasp. "You need to fucking report that psychopath."

"No!" Eugene yelled before he could stop himself. "I – I don't want to do that – I can't."

"You have to! Wolfgang thinks he can just get away with anything cause he's a big, dumb Hillwood quarterback!"

"It's been too long, Helga."

"Six months? It's been six months! That's not a long time. Some people wait years to report shit like this."

"Helga," Arnold said softly. "Whether or not Wolfgang gets reported for this is Eugene's decision to make, not ours."

"But he –"

"Helga."

Helga slumped down with her arms folded. Arnold winced as he stood up, grabbed hold of his trashcan with one hand, and pushed it closer towards his open bedroom doorway.

"It's not too late," he added firmly to Eugene. "But you're the one who has to make that choice."

"There's one thing I don't understand," Eugene told them quietly. "How did the cat end up here with you?"

"Oh – my grandma –" Arnold scratched his head. "It's sort of a long story."

"All this time I wondered. I worried that Wolfgang might've beaten him to death or something horrible like that."

"No. But it might've been a close call. Grandma and I, months back, we broke into Wolfgang's house and stole Cadence from his bedroom. See, my grandma kind of has a sixth sense for animals. It's pretty confusing. And amazing, actually."

"Huh?" Helga retorted, her eyebrow raised again.

"Take him, Eugene," Arnold said more quietly. Cadence nuzzled his head calmly into Eugene's chest. Eugene felt more tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"What?" he squeaked.

"We have plenty of animals at the boarding house, and Cadence is pretty shy around most of them. You found him when he needed help. I think he'd be happy, living with you."

"Cadence," Eugene whispered. "I like that name for you."

They were all quiet for a moment, watching as Cadence's eyes began to flutter closed.

"I've never told anyone what happened to me, you know. Not even Sheena, and she's my only real friend."

"We're your real friends, too," Helga said suddenly.

Arnold glanced at her for a moment. And then, with resolve that seemed to strengthen in light of her certainty, he nodded.

"We're here for you, Eugene. You don't have to suffer alone anymore."