Author's Note: Yes, I know that it's been almost three months since an update. You cannot imagine how good it feels to be able to write again! Spring Semester was crazy for me. I had...no spare time...at all. But now things will quiet down for quite awhile. Check my profile for more information. To make up for the time lag, this chapter is longer than any of my other ones. I actually wanted to add more...but then I decided against it. I'll try to really pick up the pace and have the next chapter up in hopefully a week or so. I'm really excited to write the next few chapters. Thank you for your patience!
Personal Inscriptions:
I've received general consensus that Gerald was OOC in my last chapter. I don't really understand what part of the story you guys think he was OOC. Was it him not standing up for Helga, or expressing doubt in his relationship with Phoebe, or...both? I picked up this part of his character from episodes such as "Bag of Money", where Gerald goes along with the crowd (at least at first) despite the fact that it may not be right. I think that may be a slight fault of his character. He cares so much about coolness that he may not always do the right thing. Because, after all, he's not perfect! ;)
Zappanale: Thank you. I tried not to rush writing this chapter. Glad you like my story!
Acosta Perez Jose Ramiro: Yeah, Arnold took a lot on his shoulders, but I think he pulled it off well.
Hurricos: How could you possibly put such an expensive hospital bill in my hands? You guys are so evil! grins Unfortunately, for now, Alex is alive and well. We have to keep him around so he can finish the story. And I don't think you and your homies are going to be pleased with what happens in this chapter... Don't worry, though. He'll get what he deserves, eventually.
Hellerick Ferlibay: Patience, my friend:)
xo Just Another Suicide xo: Thanks! Yeah, schoolwork gets me down...like I said before, though, I'll have much less work during the summer, so you can expect more updates!
Inferna: What can I say? I'm quite flattered that you think my fic is worth reviewing. Yeah, Helga has had to endure a lot, and major giveaway she will have to endure even more. I'm evil! But I think that even though she is suffering, she will not break. She is strong.
desired-hanyou-aly: At your request, here's an update!
LateOrliBloomer: Thanks! I really do appreciate all your comments. And...you're right, I made a typo there. That's what I get for trying to edit and watch TV at the same time!
mxnhpfreak: Helga turning into Brainy...yep, that's one of my favorite lines. :)
ungfh: Wow. Needless to say, I was extremely flattered by your comment. Actually, I'm thinking of declaring a minor in English sometime soon. And, yeah, rape is powerful when used in writing. Actually, when I first had the idea for this story, the "attempted rape" scene didn't even cross my mind. It was only later that I had the revelation...why, I'm not sure exactly, but I'm glad I did. It makes the story original, more powerful, and adds a bit of dramatic irony, I think...
I'm Not Perfect
Chapter 7
Helga stood awkwardly in the middle of Nana's Boutique, fiddling with the end of her ponytail. Fabrics engulfed her: satin, velvet, lace, silk, nylon, and acrylic, all in a dizzying variety of colors and patterns.
The concept had seemed so simple: find a dress. She hadn't realized that there would be so many selections. Nor had she realized that every other high school in the city was having their Homecoming Dance tonight, and that many girls would act as she had and wait until the very last minute to find a dress. Nana's Boutique was crowded with high school girls all desperately trying to find the perfect dress. They arrived in small groups, usually with matching hair styles and similar clothes, smacking on fruity smelling gum, sipping low fat milkshakes from the Slausen's down the street (despite the glares of the clerks and the sign that said, 'Please, no food or drinks'), running in and out of the dressing room with five different dresses, chatting loudly on their cell phones, complaining about how bad pink looked with their skin tones, and asking, "Guys, does this make me look fat? No, guys, really, I'm serious! Do I look fat?"
Definitely not Helga's typical scene. She fit in much better in the arena of a wrestling tournament or the stadium of a football field. Still, the fact remained: the dance was in six hours, and she needed a dress.
How hard could it be to find something? Helga grabbed the hanger of the dress nearest to her-a frilly pink ball gown a la Cinderella-and held it up to her body. She stomped her way to the nearest available mirror. Ugh. She looked like a frosted cupcake. She tried another, a strapless black and white dress. That didn't work either. She looked like she was on her way to a 1950's cocktail party.
She was still not quite sure that this was all real. What was she, Helga Pataki, doing here, buying a dress for a school dance? More than a dance. It was, technically, a date. With the only boy she could ever imagine being with, no less. The skin of her upper arm underneath her t-shirt was covered with bruises where she had continually pinched herself over the last two days. The wonderful dream had continued. Arnold had called her Thursday night to confirm plans. She hadn't snapped at him or said one mean thing. Then again, she had to admit that she hadn't been particularly nice either. More like nonchalant. Emotionless.
"So, I'll pick you up at seven?" Arnold had said.
"Okay," she replied. The word was flat. Not cold, exactly. Just indifferent. As if he was telling her tomorrow's weather forecast.
"All right. So, um, I guess...that's the plan."
"Okay."
"Great. Uh...see you tomorrow, then."
"Bye."
Well, at least apathy was preferable to bitterness. Or so she thought. It was tough. She was so used to hiding her emotions behind anger. Indifference was a step up, but not much. She hoped that tonight, at least, she could show at least a bit of her tender side.
Friday had been nice, too. It was obvious that many of the kids were still on a "high" from the previous day's event. Arnold's speech in the lunchroom was a hot topic. He had said what so many of them had wanted to say, some of them for years. The injustice done by the "in" crowd had run deep over the years. Those who had been teased, taunted, gossiped about, not invited to parties, abandoned by people they thought were their friends, and tripped in the hallways were all grateful that someone had finally come to their defense. Arnold was the courageous one, the hero. He had done the unthinkable: sacrificed major social status to stand up for what was right.
It turned out that his greatness was partially bestowed upon her, as well. Throughout the day, people had waved and winked at her. Not much, but it surely beat the "shunning" that had occurred three weeks ago.
Of course, not everyone was so kind. She received almost as many glares and middle fingers as she did positive feedback. The popular crowd was pissed. They weren't happy about being called out in front of half the school. She just laughed at them. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Did they really think that giving her the finger made her upset or something? They didn't get it. She didn't care. Her breaking point was far beyond that of 99 of anyone at Hillwood High. She had endured an attempted rape and a social shunning. She could handle anything.
She still thought about the attack, and Alex, occasionally. Though what he had done to her still angered her to no avail, it no longer filled her with fear and nausea as it had the first few days afterwards. She refused to let some stupid, arrogant kid torment her dreams where he didn't belong. But oh, how she would have loved to make him pay. She hoped that all the thugs in juvie were messing that soft, spoiled rich kid up good. Let him endure six weeks of pure hell. And, when he got out, if he ever, ever tried to mess with her again, she'd be ready this time. She'd tear out his intestines the old-fashioned way and wrap them around his neck, three times. She'd rip out his eyeballs.
Of course, he probably wouldn't mess with her again. Not after the way that Arnold had delivered a smooth, solid punch to the middle of his ugly face...
He was her savior, not once, but twice. The good hearted soul that she had always known had prevailed Thursday when he stood up for her in front of the whole cafeteria.
In her mind, she recalled over and over the things he had said: I may not be her best friend…I may not know everything about her…but I do know that everything you are saying about her is not true! If you even got to know her a little, you would know how intelligent, funny, and creative she is.
Oh, my darling...
She gently touched her locket. The cold metal was pressing against her skin under her shirt. Her locket, the symbol of her beloved, was always with her. He was in her every heartbeat. He was a part of the air she breathed.
She felt a soliloquy coming on. A quick survey of the store revealed a narrow space between a wall and a rack of dresses. Everyone else in the store was too involved in themselves to notice her slipping into the space.
"Oh, Arnold, my soul, my beloved. Dare I think that these past few days have been more than just another dream? In a mere six hours, one of my most secret and precious wishes will come true. You and I, together. Finally I may have a chance to-"
Her words were immediately cut off by something hitting her hard in the back. She was knocked forward, smacking her head against the metal rack of dresses. She landed face first onto the store's expensive carpet, caught in a tangle of limbs with the person who had tripped over her.
"Oh, wow," said a vaguely familiar voice. "Sorry about that."
Helga rubbed her throbbing head. "Here's a brilliant idea. Why don't you watch where you're going?" she snapped.
"I know. I'm quite the klutz." The person knelt down next to Helga. "You all right?"
Helga glanced up into a pair of bright blue eyes. The person that had knocked her over was a tall, thin girl about her same age. Her long blonde hair was combed flat and parted on one side. She wore no makeup, but was dressed more flamboyantly than most high school kids would have, in a long, white, flowing sundress covered with gold stars. The two gold hoop earrings dangling to her shoulders matched the dress.
The girl repeated, "Are you okay?"
"I'll live," Helga muttered as the girl helped her to her feet. "My concussion should be better in, oh, two weeks."
The girl visibly winced. "That bad, huh?"
Helga frowned. "It was a joke, doi."
The girl chuckled a little. "I know. So, uh, you're buying a dress?"
Helga rolled her eyes. "No. I'm here to get my poodle groomed."
The girl grinned at her. "Kind of a stupid question, I know. Anyway, I hate to break it to you, but you're probably not going to find any dresses in that little space you were sitting in."
She could feel the blush seeping up her cheeks. "For your information, I dropped...uh...a nickel down there."
The girl shrugged. "Either way, you're empty handed. I assume you're having as much trouble as I did finding a dress."
Helga scoffed. "Yeah. All of the dresses are made for girls like that." She pointed across the store at an attractive girl who was standing in front of a mirror in a silky, light blue ball gown with all of her friends oohing and aahing around her.
The girl cringed slightly. "I know what you mean. I'm more of, you could say, a free spirit. But I took the bus for forty five minutes to get here, and I was determined to leave with something."
Helga frowned and crossed her arms. "You took the bus for forty five minutes to buy a dress?"
The girl laughed. "I didn't want to. This was the closest formal attire store to my house. There definitely aren't any in our tiny little town. Heck, there aren't even any clothing stores. All we have is a general store, a church, and a one screen cinema."
"Criminy. So did you find a dress?"
"I did, actually." The girl held up the dress she had been holding. It was strapless, made of navy blue velvet. When held up to the light, tiny silver half moons and stars were visible on the skirt.
Helga was impressed. "Wow. Where'd you find that?"
"Over by the back wall. It was the last one."
Helga blew out a breath. "Great."
"You can find one, too. All you have to do is find something that suits your personality. Let's see...what's your favorite color?"
"Uh...pink, I guess. Violet. Light blue. Something like that."
The girl pondered for a moment, then said, "Come with me." She led Helga through racks of dresses, past a group of giggling girls, and past a long row of mirrors. She reached into one of the racks and pulled out a piece of fabric. "How about this?"
Helga's eyes widened. The dress was held up by spaghetti straps. The sheer, silky fabric started out, at the top of the dress, light blue on one side and creamy pink on the other. Down the length of the dress, the two colors gradually meshed together, forming a brilliant violet at the bottom of the dress.
It was fairly simple. There were no decorations, no lace, no bows or frills. And yet...it was perfect.
"Cool," she breathed, taking the dress gently from the girl. She flipped over the tag to make sure that it was the correct size-it was-and turned back to the girl. "Thanks a lot, um..."
The girl smiled at her. "Hilda."
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Arnold wiped the fog off the bathroom mirror and studied himself. Carefully he placed his blue hat in the middle of his wild blonde hair. He was vividly aware that it was too small, and that it clashed with the black suit he was wearing. But he couldn't bear to part with it for a night, especially this particular night. The thirteen year anniversary of when his parents left. The piece of faded blue cloth that he placed atop his head every day was one of the only remnants he had left of his Mom and Dad.
Tonight probably wouldn't be easy, he knew. But he was determined to try to have as much fun as possible and not let the anniversary get him down.
Arnold stepped backwards. He thought he looked okay. He never really spent that much time on his appearance, unlike his best friend. Most days, Gerald would spend a good half hour on his hair alone. Tonight he would probably increase the time to an hour. Arnold had been surprised, though pleasantly so, when he found out that Gerald was taking Phoebe to the dance.
He honestly had no idea how his own "date" would go. Helga hadn't been nasty to him these past few days, but she hadn't really been nice to him, either. Instead, she had been reserved, emotionless. So unlike her typical personality, passionate, raging, and bold. He wondered if maybe she didn't want to go with him after all.
Well, of course she didn't, he reminded himself. She was only doing this out of gratefulness of him sticking up for her in the cafeteria. She had said so herself. It wasn't like she was actually happy about this.
Or maybe she was. She hadn't said no, after all. Besides, they were friends. Weren't they? She hadn't come right out and said, "You're my friend," but that's where he felt they stood now, especially after everything that had happened. He had stood up for her in front of the whole cafeteria. Surely she knew that he cared about her. As a friend.
Well, of course as a friend. What else could there be?
The humidity in the bathroom was giving him a headache. He needed out of there.
When he emerged, he was nearly knocked over by Ernie. "What were you doing in there, working a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle?!" he shouted before he slammed the door shut. Arnold sighed and rolled his eyes. Down the hall, he could hear Oscar and Suzie arguing about something. The crashes and shouts made him wince. From somewhere in the house, the dogs barked, the cats meowed, and the pig oinked. And now the phone was ringing.
Never a dull moment, Arnold thought. He rushed to the phone and retrieved it from its cradle. "Hello?"
"Arnold!" It was Gerald.
"Oh, hey, Gerald. What's going on?"
Gerald blew out a breath. "Man...I got some serious bad news."
Arnold paused. "Let me guess. You ran out of hair gel again."
"No! Arnold, man, this is serious!"
Something in the tone of his voice made Arnold stop smiling. "Okay, okay. What's wrong?"
There was a long pause. Arnold could hear Gerald take in air. The seconds ticked past. Arnold began to grow anxious. "Are you still there?..."
"Yeah. Arnold..."Gerald sighed. "Alex is out of jail."
"WHAT?!" Arnold's eyes widened. Feeling his knees grow weak, he steadied himself against the wall.
"It's true, man. They let him outta juvie this morning."
Arnold shook his head in disbelief. "How...I mean...he was supposed to be in for thirty days, at least. And it's only been, what? Five days?"
"Four, actually."
He rubbed the front of his temples. Feeling the phone grow sweaty in his hand, he switched the receiver to the other ear. "How did this happen, Gerald?"
"Alex had his first meeting with the judge today. His case was reevaluated. The supervisor for the detention center gave a recommendation of Alex getting out early for his good behavior-"
"Good behavior," Arnold muttered, gritting his teeth. "What he did to Helga was good behavior?"
"I know, man. Anyway, the judge looked at all of the evidence and said that the damage done to Helga was less than he previously thought. He was willing to let Alex serve the rest of his term out of jail on probation."
Arnold paced back and forth in the narrow range allowed by the phone cord. "That's crazy! Helga had to have stitches! Didn't the judge know that?"
"I guess so. She didn't have any broken bones or anything."
"What does that matter?!" Arnold was shouting now. "How does that make what he did any less horrific?"
"Calm down, Arnold. I'm with you on this one," Gerald said. "I think that judge was crazy. I mean, four days? It wasn't nearly enough time for what he did."
Arnold was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Are you sure about all of this, Gerald?" he asked. "Are you sure that this isn't just another rumor?"
"I wish it was, brother," sighed Gerald. "Iggy told me. He heard it directly from Justin. And you know that Justin always has all the information on Alex."
Arnold knew that his best friend was right. He sighed. Suddenly, a horrible thought struck him. Gripping the receiver in anxiety, he said, "Gerald?"
"Yeah?"
"Alex is out of jail now? Right now?"
"Yeah, ever since this morning."
"Is he suspended from school?"
Gerald paused to think. "I don't think so. The last I heard, he was only suspended as long as he stayed in juvie hall."
"So he's not suspended from school events?"
There was a moment of silence as Gerald tried to figure out what Arnold meant. Finally, he got it. "Oh, wow, man...I'm sorry. I didn't even think of that."
Arnold put a hand to his head. "I can't believe this is happening. On top of everything else, Helga might have to see the guy that almost raped her tonight."
"Maybe not." Gerald was the one looking on the bright side, for once. "Maybe Alex won't show up. A lot of the kids aren't even going to the dance because so many other parties are going on. Hey, did I tell you that Mandy and Christina aren't coming tonight? They got invited to a frat party up at Germasen College. So we don't even have to worry about them being mad at us for bailing on them."
This did not make Arnold feel better. "I hope that no college guy tries to rape them," he said sincerely. Mandy and Christina were mean, selfish, and arrogant, but he wouldn't wish what had happened to Helga on anyone, even them. He sighed. "How am I going to break the news to Helga?"
"Don't," Gerald advised. "Like I said, Alex might not even be there. In fact, I'm almost positive that he won't be there. I think that guy's gonna have to lie low for a few days. A lot of the kids are gonna be wary of him now. He and his whole crew have been taken down a few pegs, thanks to you, man."
Arnold couldn't help but smile at that. His actions might have been, well, unplanned, and maybe even crazy, but now most of the kids-those who chose to believe it-knew the truth about Alex.
His smile was brief, however. "I don't know, Gerald. It doesn't feel right to just not tell her. What if I don't tell her, and then he is there? What kind of friend would that make me? She shouldn't have to deal with that."
"Look, man," Gerald said. "I'm not saying that it's good to lie to her. But why get her worked up over nothing? I mean, the whole point of you asking her to the dance was for her to have a good time and take her mind off everything, right?"
He knew that Gerald was correct. Yes, if he told her, the night would probably be ruined, and so would any plans he had of trying to make her feel better. But if he just left her in the dark...
"I don't know about this..."
"Look, man, it's your decision. But remember, even if Alex does come, what are the odds you'll run into him? The gym is huge, plus they'll probably have all the lights out."
He sighed. "I'll...have to think about it. Anyway, thanks for calling to tell me."
"No problem. I'll see you tonight, okay? Seven thirty?"
Arnold nodded, though he knew Gerald couldn't see him. "Seven thirty."
Gerald must have noticed the despondency in his voice. "You gonna be okay, man?"
"I...I guess so." The night had already started out with a dark cloud over it. The dark cloud had now become a raging thunderstorm. "I'll see you in a couple hours...okay...bye."
Arnold wondered if it was possible to burrow underneath his blankets and come out sometime next year.
No, he was being ridiculous. Gerald was right. Everything would probably be fine.
Still, he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach similar to the feeling he'd had before his fourteenth birthday party.
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Helga examined her reflection in the mirror. She hadn't worn a dress since the sixth grade, when she made an upgrade to jeans. And this was not the kind of dress she was used to wearing. The soft, silky fabric flowed delicately around her body. She was...okay. Pretty, even.
She hadn't made any drastic changes to her appearance. She wasn't going to make the same mistake that she had at Rhonda Lloyd's fourth grade slumber party. She had worn only a bit of makeup-some of her mom's clear mascara and a dab of pink lip gloss. She no longer needed concealer to hide her bruises, fortunately. Her injuries were healed, although she did still have a few more pills left to take, the oral steroids the doctor had prescribed to keep her throat from closing. She honestly doubted that she needed them anymore-her throat was fine, as far as she was concerned-but Miriam kept a close watch on her every day to make sure that she took them.
She pivoted sideways to look at her hair. She had worn it down for once, pulling the sides back with her pink ribbon. It had grown surprisingly long-it fell down half the length of her back. She turned back to the mirror. Her unibrow still graced the area between her face and her hairline. Her small, round ears were only partially concealed by her hair.
She picked up her locket from the dresser, and then sighed as she remembered that she would have to leave it behind. Her dress was low cut. She had not realized this when she bought the dress, and it made her slightly uncomfortable. Anyway, it was too low for her to be able to tuck the locket underneath. The locket would have to stay with Monster tonight.
She turned to the creature that was poking his head out from under her bed. "You'll take good care of my locket, won't you?"
"Psssssstttth," he replied.
"Just don't eat it," she said. She snorted. "You don't have to eat everything that reveals my secret."
She didn't even know what Monster ate. Once a week, she would let him outside, and he would disappear. Several hours later, he would come back, usually with feathers around his mouth. Probably he just ate other people's annoying parrots.
Helga fell backwards onto her bed. She held her locket above her head, gazing into those captivating green eyes. Every school picture, Arnold sported a lazy, dreamy half-smile, as if his mind were miles away, somewhere she couldn't yet reach but so desperately wanted to.
"My love, how I long to get into that adorable football-shaped head of yours, just once, to hear your most private and personal thoughts. And I hope-do I dare?-that maybe some of your thoughts involve me, Helga G. Pataki..."
Helga closed her eyes and sighed. After a few moments, she opened her eyes and looked at her watch. It was five till seven. She stood up slowly, reluctant as always to leave her daydreams, setting her locket facedown in the bottom drawer of her nightstand, just in case.
Walking toward her door, her eye caught the brown bottle of pills on her dresser. She hadn't taken a steroid today. She probably didn't need it, but just in case...
She reached for the bottle. A knock on her bedroom door caused her to jump. The bottle flew from her hand and in between the dresser and the wall.
"Oh, crap," she muttered, but wasn't too concerned. She hadn't had trouble breathing in weeks. Nothing bad was going to happen.
Miriam opened her bedroom door. "Hi, honey. Are you ready yet? Oh, my goodness, you look, just, so gorgeous! I should get the camera, um, oh, let's see, where did I put it last?"
The doorbell rang. Helga felt her heart rate take off and race like an Olympic runner. She swallowed. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe! It was just Arnold. The boy she had loved, and adored, and dreamed of being with, coming to pick her up on their very first date...
Yeah, just Arnold.
Helga started toward the door. Monster slid out from under the bed and followed her down the hall. From behind, her mother called, "Oh, honey...did you remember to take your medicine?"
"Um, yeah, sure, Mom," she replied. A small lie wouldn't hurt. It would take forever to get the bottle out from behind the dresser, and she didn't want to keep her beloved waiting.
She froze, her hand on the doorknob. She took a deep breath, tried to relax, and twisted the knob.
Arnold was standing there, looking as gorgeous as ever in that black suit. His two usual tufts of golden hair stuck out from either side of his usual blue hat.
But...something was wrong. He wasn't smiling. In fact, he looked...anxious? Was it possible that he was nervous?
Helga looks nice, Arnold thought. She had her hair down, which he rarely saw. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he saw her dressed up. She looked...happy. She was smiling, slightly, another thing he rarely saw. Inwardly he sighed. I can't crush her spirit just now by telling her about Alex.
"Hi, Helga," he smiled, but it felt forced.
"Hey," she replied. Arnold then noticed that she was not alone. A fifty pound brown reptile was lying on the carpet next to her, flicking a forked tongue up at him. His eyes widened.
"Is that?..."
She smirked at him. "You got it, Football Head."
Arnold shook his head in disbelief as he stared at the creature that ate his pet parrot five years ago in Mr. Simmons' classroom. "What...uh...what do you feed him?"
"Oh, you know, rats, small children, annoying birds." Noticing his expression, she added, "That was a joke?"
"Oh," He forced a small chuckle. Then he added, "You know, I was actually quite fond of that parrot. He was really smart. He recited poetry..."
"Don't get me started-" she broke off, realizing that she might reveal too much. There was a reason that she was eternally grateful to Monster.
"Oh, hi, you're here!" Helga's mom appeared from downstairs, carrying the camera she had finally found after quite a bit of searching upstairs.
Helga rolled her eyes. Doi, of course he was here. Her mom wasn't deaf; she had heard the doorbell too.
"Uh...I have the camera now, so, if you would pose for just a minute..."
Arnold moved closer to his date. Her mom fiddled with the camera for a minute. He sneaked a glance at Helga.
Should I tell her? Would it be the right thing to do?
"Okay, smile!"
But she looks so happy. Who I am to ruin that? Click. Click.
"Oh, um, darn it, the flash didn't go off. What's wrong with this thing?..." Miriam started pushing buttons on the camera.
"Mooooooom, any minute today," Helga moaned. But he didn't miss the hint of a smile on her face.
She's really in a good mood tonight. Flash! He forced a smile. Flash!
"Okay, can we go now?" Helga said impatiently.
If I do tell her, when? It should be before the dance. In the car, maybe? What if she gets emotional? What if she cries again? I don't want to make her cry!
Helgalooked surprised when he opened the front door for her. While her mom commented, "What a gentlemen!", Helga just rolled her eyes and sighed. He watched her stomp down the steps toward Grandpa's Packard parked in front of the house. He was confused. Was she mad at him for opening the door for her? Maybe she didn't want him to act as if this were an actual date. After all, she was only doing this as a favor to him, or so she said.
Ironic, he thought, because he was only doing this as a favor to her. Or so he thought.
As he watched her head toward the car, he wondered one more time: Should I tell her?
He stopped her halfway to the car by putting his hand on her shoulder. "Helga, wait."