3. Heavy Metal Lover
I could be your
girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl.
But would you love me if I ruled the
world, world, world?
Monday morning is a wreck.
Phoebe had barely gotten any sleep, and she had managed to complete her calculus homework only by means of doing so during her first period english class. Therefore, she missed the lecture notes on essay writing. Which, if her marks were any indication, were entirely unnecessary notes. However, Phoebe Heyerdahl was a perfectionist and an incomplete notebook was akin to an unforgivable sin. This lead to her being forced to copy said notes form someone else during her lunch period, which effectively allowed for Phoebe to avoid Helga in the library.
She had been avoiding Helga all day, admittedly. But it was easy, considering their only class together was seventh period, Honor's History class. It was a strange fluke of scheduling, because they took almost all of the same classes. Helga Pataki was smarter than she let on, truth be told. But they had managed to only have lunch and History together, a fact that had been lamented since the beginning of the year, but now one that Phoebe was immensely thankful for.
She wasn't sure why she was avoiding Helga. Phoebe knew that her words on Saturday at the park ought to have made her intentions very clear, and thus, it should dissolve the tension between them. They should, in theory, be able to go back to normal best friends.
But it was not that simple. As much as Phoebe thought she could save herself from heart break by crushing any possibility of a relationship with Helga, it had the opposite effect. Phoebe had mulled herself into a pattern of thought, angst and worry at the center of it.
First, Phoebe assured herself that she had made the right decision. That disregarding Helga's advances, and playing the Arnold-card was the right way to go. It was obvious, Phoebe thought, that they were soulmates. And who was she, always the the best friend, to get in between soulmates?
Then, Phoebe would feel the darker parts of her mind creep up into her consciousness. She had realized long ago that given this opportunity, Phoebe's first reaction would be to run with it. Reap the benefits, suffer the consequences later. Because wasn't that what being a teenager was all about? Phoebe wanted a relationship with Helga so badly, even if it was short-lived.
Finally, Phoebe would come back full circle and ponder the very details which had dictated Helga's actions. For as long as she had known the other girl, Phoebe could read Helga Pataki like an open book. Helga wore her heart on her sleeve, but most people overlooked it due to her rough exterior. The thought that now Helga was acting so strange, so out of character, and had so easily hidden from Phoebe the fact that she knew, required more processing power than Phoebe had ever exerted.
Even sitting through AP Physics C, supposedly the most difficult course offered, Phoebe let herself think through this circle. She penned her notes with a robotic ease, and finished the reading exercise without ever really letting her mind off the subject of Helga. The entire day proceeded in this way, and when time came for the final period of Honor's History, Phoebe was exhausted with thought about the same girl that she would be sitting next to for forty minutes.
If Phoebe skipped class, this would have been an appropriate moment to do so. But Phoebe Heyerdahl valued education over a bit of angst, so she filed into the classroom early. The teacher was busily writing out their warm-up activity on the chalkboard, oblivious to Phoebe's unusual demeanor. When the bell rang and a certain blonde-haired girl did not sit down beside her, Phoebe secretly hoped that perhaps, Helga wasn't even at school.
"Sorry, Mr. Ells. Some assholes were bugging me in the hall. Nearly showed 'em my fists, but you know I am trying to do less of that," Helga sounded jovial. It nearly pissed Phoebe off, but then she noticed Helga's attire.
Her hair was down, which Phoebe had an inkling that Helga had realized how much she preferred it that way. And her trade-mark pink converse, tank top, and skinny jeans had been traded in for a dark denim skirt, fishnet stockings, combat boots, and a crop top that revealed Helga's midriff.
In some ways, Phoebe had thought some day Helga would go for the punk look. It suited her personality in more ways than pink ever did. What she had never thought about, was how hot it would be. Phoebe forgot about her mind waging war on itself, and took the time to simply appreciate her best friend.
Phoebe imagined pinning Helga to the desk. She imagined placing her hand on the revealed skin of Helga's stomach, and letting it drift from there. Phoebe imagined a lot of scenarios, and before it became too vivid, the subject of said fantasies was leaning into her ear with a hot, breathy whisper.
"Do you like it?" A question with a million answers. There was the truth: fuck yes. There was the half-truth: you look...uh, I have no words that can describe it. There was the lie:
"Helga, isn't this a little extreme? Even for you."
"I already excused you for being late to my class, Helga. Do I really need to reprimand you for talking, too?" Mr. Ellsworth had a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. He understood Helga more than most teachers.
"Nah, Ells. Just keep going. You were talking about the Manhattan Project, right?" Helga nonchalantly looked up. Ellsworth continues his lesson.
Phoebe spends the rest of the period trying to push sexual thoughts out of her head, and Helga listens intently about America's involvement in World War II. When the bell rings, Phoebe scurries out of the room faster than usual. She does not linger to gather her books, nor does she wait around for Helga. She bolts to the street to catch the first bus, hopefully fast enough so that she might have a seat at the very back.
X X X X
"Phoebe, hey, girl," Gerald greets. He grins at her in a way that Phoebe is sure is meant to impress the ladies. "Can I sit with you?"
"Hello, and sure. No one else is sitting here. Nope," Phoebe says with more words than she meant. She is anxious that Helga may have managed to catch up with her and onto the bus, but the coast seemed clear for now. Maybe talking to Gerald would also calm Phoebe a bit. He seemed to have that affect with his relaxed personality.
"So, how've you been since prom? Comforting your girl Helga and all of that?"
"What?" Phoebe blurted. She had literally no idea why Helga would be in need of comforting.
"Woah. Did you not know? The H and A train got off its course again. They broke up for what is the tenth time or whatever. Arnold has been off the wall. Thought Helga would be the same way, though she is the one that ended it...this time..." Gerald looked as if he was in great thought.
"Oh, that." Phoebe replied, trying to seem as if she only knew as much as Gerald. "Yeah, I mean, Helga has sort of been distracted with other stuff. We haven't talked about Arnold much."
It wasn't a complete lie.
"I saw! That getup is something else, lemme tell you. Helga's got serious swag, now," Gerald laughs. "My boy Arnold was not exactly happy with it, though. He thinks it's an attention-seeking thing. I told him he's gotta let a girl loose, sometimes."
"Yep," Phoebe concurs. She isn't sure what else she can say regarding Helga's new choice of outfit, without embarrassing herself.
"Well, Pheebs, this is my stop," Gerald got up suddenly. "We should hang out later. I get bored with Arnold; always Helga this, Helga that."
Gerald is so comfortable in his own skin, so funny, and so honest, Phoebe wishes she was in love with him. It would be a lot easier.
"Call me, I'll see you around Gerald." She offers him a genuine smile. The rest of the bus ride proves to be uneventful. When Phoebe gets home, however, she notices her phone has a new text.
Come over, no more avoiding. Parents are still gone. If you don't, I'll be there in 30 and throw rocks at your window. -H
Phoebe laughs out loud, remembering the time Helga actually broke the glass of her window panes doing that. With this memory, Phoebe suddenly feels confidence—surely she can control her libido long enough to talk to Helga, to make sure everything between them is okay. It is.
X X X X
She changes her clothes into more form-fitting jeans, and a white button down. Simple. Casual. Whatever. Phoebe tries not to over think why she does this. After quickly sending Helga a text, assuring that she is walking to the Pataki household, she mentally prepares herself. Do not, repeat, do not concentrate on Helga's attire. Focus on friendship. Two simple tasks. Phoebe is almost sure she can do this.
"Wow, you're here quicker than I would've thought," Helga grins. She guides Phoebe into their basement, reminding the girl about how they were supposed to have spent after-prom.
"I guess you're not talking. That's cool, Pheebs." She pokes Phoebe in the ribs, who tries to keep a stoic expression. "You said it all Saturday, so, it's my turn. I think you're mad at me. Actually, if you aren't then I don't get why you have suddenly taken a vow of silence."
"I'm not mad."
"Could've fooled me," Helga shrugged. "But all I wanted to say was that I'm not going to give up."
Phoebe feels as if she has fallen into an alternate universe. She had assumed that she and Helga would have just disregarded the events of the weekend. She had thought Helga wouldn't even want to touch that elephant in the room with a ten-foot pole. Phoebe was starting to suck at predicting Helga's reactions.
"I am going to prove to you that Arnold is my friend. And you're my best friend, who will become my girlfriend."
Helga's tone is easy. It's as if she has rehearsed these lines so many times, or maybe is saying the first words that come to mind. It is natural. It is arrogant. It is so utterly Helga G. Pataki.
Phoebe wants to sing, she wants to punch the other girl in the face, she wants to cry, she wants to kiss her. There are so many things Phoebe wants, but most of all, she wants Helga.
The declaration Helga made did not really succeed in convincing Phoebe that this wouldn't end in heart break. In fact, Phoebe is ready to call Gerald and make bets on it. Helga couldn't just be Arnold's friend for long. But it was her tone, and the word girlfriend that changed her mind on how to go about the situation. Phoebe was prepared to sell her soul and a bit of her dignity.
Phoebe's resolve was broken.
She takes the next step and brings herself closer to Helga. Tentatively, she brings her hands to Helga's shoulders; Helga put her own on Phoebe's waist. Phoebe brings her face to the other girl's neck. Their bodies meld together, and Helga is extremely warm. There is a heat between them that spikes Phoebe's arousal. She no longer attempts to dismiss it.
"Girlfriend?" She mutters against Helga's neck. The word is more of a sigh than a question.
"Yeah, of course. If that's what you want."