Words I Couldn't Say

Chapter Six: When the Past Meets the Present

(Arnold's Point of View)

I sat under the big, maple tree outside the cafeteria waiting for Sandy. I stared up into its branches at the yellowish-brown leaves, hinting of the fast approaching fall. I knew Sandy would love to watch them dance in the breeze, looking as if they were changing colors right before her eyes. That's why she loved to sit under the tree. It was always a race to beat everyone else there every day during lunch. Most of the time we succeeded, and today I had come especially fast to save it for her.

Finally I saw her approaching. The girl beside her was wearing a pink sweatshirt, hands in her pockets, a wisp of blonde hair blowing out of the side of her hood. She was much taller than Sandy and very skinny. I watched the two of them. Sandy's graceful movements, her dainty black heels, lavender striped sweater, and gray pencil skirt—the blonde's baggy sweatshirt, hunched posture, and almost stomping feet. What a difference!

When they reached me, I looked up at the girl as she nervously took off her hood and looked at me as she sat down. It was the blond girl from earlier in the morning, and the girl from the restaurant, and again I felt I knew her. I stared for a moment…searching my memory for something…anything. The pink bow, the blue, blue eyes…

"Oh my, the tree looks so pretty today! I love the yellowy leaves!" Sandy sat down next to me, gesturing to the girl. "Arnold, this is my new friend Helga—"

"—Pataki," I stated as it immediately hit me once I heard the first name. "Helga G. Pataki." Trying to describe the shock wave that came over my when I realized who Sandy's new "friend" was is like trying to describe algebra to Harold Berman. Pointless. So I won't try. Just know, I was in completely astonishment.

I saw the confused look cross over Sandy's face and she looked at me questioningly. "How did you know that, Arnold? She's new here, did you already meet her?"

"We went to elementary school together," Helga stated flatly. "How you doin', Football-head?"

I flinched at the cruel name. Old memories and feelings rushing back to my mind then. Every name call, every cruel word, every prank-everything. And feelings I had suppressed all these years came flying at my mind and emotions and I was having trouble pushing them back down.

"Football-head?" Sandy asked slowly. I watched her eyes go as big as watermelons when she put it together. "Wait…you're that Helga? Oh my!" she whispered to herself as she put a hand to her heart.

"Helga, don't call me that." I glared at her vehemently still trying to keep the overwhelming emotions at bay. Even though I had never admitted it out loud I knew I had some serious emotional damage from her years of tormenting me and instead of dealing with it I always kind of just pushed it down deeper and deeper. I had assumed that I would be able to always keep them down inside and never have to deal with them, but I was being forced to experience them all over again and deal with them here and now. I knew this wasn't going to end well, but somehow my judgment was crowded out by the feelings overwhelming me.

"Well, from what Arnold tells me, you two didn't get along too well. Maybe we shouldn't eat together," Sandy stated nervously, wringing her hands and looking to me for support.

"Maybe you're right, Sandy," Helga said, giving her an too familiar mocking expression. "Ol' hairboy and I were never the best of...friends."

"On the contrary, Helga. I always considered you a friend. And besides," I began, watching her scowl becoming more intense by the second, "we're older now. Hopefully we've moved on past all those childish things…"

I knew I was egging her on slightly, and I felt myself grin as I watched her fist slowly clenching. I felt kind of bad, but as I thought about all she had put me through in elementary school—the names, the pranks, the pure torture—it suddenly seemed pretty fair. Fate was giving me my revenge, or so all my uncontrollable emotions were telling me.

"Glad to see you lost the pigtails," I grimaced at her. I felt almost elated. Having never acted this way towards anyone, even the bully who had bothered me all through elementary school gave me a kind of proud feeling-like I was finally being the self-advocate I'd always wished I could be. Deep down her mocking and threatening and teasing had really done a number on me and effected me deeply and still bothered me years later. But now I definitely knew how to stand up for myself...I wouldn't tolerate that treatment again.

"Glad to see the Scottish lass skirt is gone," she replied with a little smirk.

"And look! No more unibrow!" I pretended to gasp in astonishment.

She glared at me and Sandy gasped. "Arnold, what has gotten into you? Helga is my friend and I would like to think that you are an adult who knows how to act!" She crossed her arms and frowned at the two of us, shaking her head.

Helga chuckled until Sandy shot her a look. She wiped the smile off and pretended to dig around in her lunch bag. Sandy's look gave me the little push I needed to try to get at least some of these feelings under control.

Swallowing down what emotions I could I looked back to Helga. "Sorry, Helga. Sandy's right, that wasn't really appropriate." I stretched out my hand to her. "What do you say we try to start over? Start fresh. Truce?"

Rather reluctantly she shook my hand. Sandy smiled contrarily and began eating the giant cookie she had purchased from the school. I had a feeling this still wouldn't work. Not with Helga. Helga was anything but truce-worthy…she probably wouldn't make it through the lunch hour without causing a fuss and acting like the bully I knew she was. So we sat…eating in awkward silence.

"A cookie, Sandy? For lunch?" Ben asked as he took the empty place next to Helga in our circle.

"Well, it was either this or Pringles. And everyone knows chocolate chip cookies are way better. Plus, it's a giant one—nice and chewy in the middle. I made sure. The lunch lady let me find the chewiest one. You're just jealous 'cause all you have is the weird stuff your mommy packed you." She winked at him and took a giant bite of her cookie. "You know...maybe I'll even have ice cream for desert."

"Just 'cause my mommy made me my lunch and likes to throw in strange things because she hates grocery shopping doesn't mean you should make fun of me," Ben said in a little kid voice. "And to think I was going to tell you some very important information I heard about the play auditions next week. Now, forget it." He raised his eyebrows and turned his back to her dramatically.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Spill!" she exclaimed, almost dropping her cookie in her excitement.

"Not on your life. Besides, I made that up." He smiled, pleased with himself.

Sandy stuck her tongue out at him and threw the cookie's plastic wrap at him. "Jerk!"

Silence reigned—all except for Ben crunching on his celery and peanut butter. Obviously he'd missed the whole first encounter between Helga and I. I wasn't about to fill him in. So he crunched away noisily until finally pipping up. "Helga's in our English class, Arnold."

I nodded really not caring much and kind of just wishing this lunch period would end or Helga would leave and go somewhere-anywhere else.

"She's in my creative writing class too," Sandy added softly, looking at me quickly through the corner of her eye. Obviously she was testing the waters and trying to gauge my reactions.

I almost choked and tried to hold back a laugh. "Creative writing? Really, Helga? What do you write about?" What was going on with me?

She looked at me nervously, took a big bite of her sandwich and didn't reply.

"She likes poetry," Sandy explained triumphantly.

I looked at Helga who got an angry look on her face as she stared at Sandy. She was probably mad that Sandy ratted her out.

"Poetry?" I gasped. "How do your poems go? Something like this maybe:

Move it or lose it, Bucko,

Because ol' Betsy says,

'Line up the chuckleheads,

And fill their heads with stucko!'"

Ben laughed and Helga sneered at me. "Well, if that wasn't the worst poem I ever heard in my entire life!"

Sandy shook her head at her, and glared at me, trying to warn me to back off. "That's a better poem then I could write," she said with a fake laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

I hardly registered her comment-I was on a roll. "Poetry!" I laughed again. "I just don't see it, but seriously…what do you write about?"

I watched her fidget uncomfortable as she suddenly found her bag of chips extremely interesting. Finally she took a deep, almost calming breath and said quietly, "stuff."

"Stuff?! Wow, that's the vaguest thing I've ever heard! Doesn't really sound very poetic," I scoffed. "Shouldn't it be more descriptive? Or maybe it should rhyme?"

Ben shuffled his lunch bag nervously. "Think I'll go throw my stuff away…then I gotta go...uh...warm-up for choir…see you!" With that he practically ran away. Sandy watched after him, her eyes echoing his desire to escape, but her peacemaker heart needing to stay and help.

But I turned to Helga again, who was glaring at me as she crumpled her chip bag. She seemed to be struggling to control her anger. Maybe I shouldn't egg her on, I thought. But again I thought back on all she had done, and the guilt fairly washed away—and once more I felt the pride of revenge, of self-advocacy, seeping back into my veins. "Well, Helga, maybe you should share a poem with us. Enlighten us with your deep thoughts," I mocked, narrowing my eyes at her. Sandy elbowed me in the ribs, but I ignored her.

Her face continued to become redder and redder. "Why in the word would I share anything with you? A stupid, football-headed jerkwho claims to be a do-gooder, but who can't even practice what he preaches?"

I lost it then. I had had enough of the name callings, enough of the mockery, enough of her bad attitude—and to be honest I was really mad all of a sudden. It felt like years of pent up frustrations had finally reached the surface the more I pondered on the past. Feelings I had hidden inside me finally came to the surface and I felt them exploding in my veins. I had been wondering my whole life why Helga had been so mean to me. It had really hurt me that someone hated me so. I'd never done anything but be nice to her and it made me cringe inside. Never had I thought I'd have to deal with her again, and I guess maybe it was too much for me and I exploded.

"Helga, I know you don't have any deep thoughts or deep feelings. You're just a bully through and through. I don't care anymore. You wanna live your life pushing everyone away and acting like…acting like…like a banshee than go ahead. I want nothing to do with you, Helga G. Pataki. So stay out of my life!"

(Helga's Point of View)

I stared blindly at my locker as I remembered the cruel words he had said to me. How he didn't care about me…wanted nothing to do with me ever again.

I felt angry. Angry that he had finally learned about one of my passions—my poetry—and what had he done? He mocked me! Just like I'd always feared he would. And it hurt just like I always knew it would. And deep down, I was more than angry, I felt hurt. It cut my soul and I cringed. He had rejected me—he cared nothing for me! He said so himself. It was like the deepest blow—hearing those words from him. What had gotten into him? Maybe my mother and sister were right. Maybe Arnold had become someone completely different. Someone I couldn't or wouldn't want to love anymore. The old Arnold I knew would have never acted that way. He would have been interested in my poetry—not mocked it. He hadn't even thought to give me a chance, instead he had attacked me!

Yet, I realized suddenly, that this must be how he felt all through elementary school. Isn't that what I had done to him? Mocked him incessantly day and night? Even about things he felt strongly about? His family, his friends, his hobbies...everything. Mocked and berated him every day of his life!

Maybe this is what I deserved. Maybe I deserved this cruelty…this abuse—this hatred. I had helped it grow—nurtured it even! What did I expect? After the way I treated him—even on that last night before he moved away—how else should I expect him to treat me? What else did I deserve?

But I couldn't help but still think it wasn't fair. I had worked so hard to change. And I had become a better person! Why couldn't he even give me a chance to prove myself? Wasn't that what Arnold always preached? Second chances? Helping each other? Caring for each other? Even those like me?

I thought then of the time in fourth grade when Mr. Simmons has assigned us the egg project together. We were told to take care of the egg like our own child and let nothing happen to it. Oh, I had the best intentions of acting nice to him and treating him well, but as soon as I began to talk to him about the project he began berating me with hateful words about how terrible I was and how he wanted to be partners with anyone-ANYONE else besides me.

Apparently, when I thought about it, I realized he had disliked me for some time. This wasn't a different Arnold, it was just a rare, but occasionally burst of frustration…still, I didn't deserve it this time. I had changed and started with the best intentions.

I threw my locker open, hating the idea of ever having to see Arnold again, of ever facing to him again. Now I knew how he truly felt about me. And I had apparently seen this hatred more than once. But the realization was just now sinking in.

I heard a terrible groan. Grabbing the locker door again I moved it aside to see a tall, blonde young man holding his nose, the blood trickling down between his fingers.

(Arnold's Point of View)

"What's wrong with you?" Sandy shouted, running up behind me. "When did you become such a jerk?"

"What do you mean? I was treating her just the way she always treated me!" I replied, even though the guilt was already starting to wash over me and I was even starting to feel a bit sick about it.

"Oh, well, that makes it right," she huffed sarcastically. "I'm sorry I forgot I was such an idiot and didn't realize that how she treated you years ago makes your rude actions perfectly fine and acceptable," she mocked. "Arnold, you never act this way. You never treat people badly. Helga is not a bully. She has been completely kind and perfectly normal to me. Whatever she may have been or done in the past, is in the past. Don't you get that? People change. You have to give them a chance." She panted slightly, trying to keep up with me in her heels.

I had been jogging around the football field trying to release some anger. I didn't want to stop, but I felt bad looking at her delicate frame panting there in a skirt and heels.

"You of all people know that. Isn't that what you preach to everyone?" she said, stopping and trying to catch her breath. "Besides, maybe she had her reasons back then. You don't know what she may have been going through. Everyone has a story. Perhaps, you should think about that and try to help her instead of acting like a nincompoop." She looked at me and I watched her green eyes, searching. "She's a good person. I can feel it in every fiber in me. She needs your forgiveness Arnold. How can she ever earn your respect and forgiveness if you jump down her throat anytime she tries to befriend you?" She shrugged then, as the bell rang. "Think about it, okay? And I hope it's not too late already."

I nodded quietly mulling over her words. Their clarity and truth ringing a little too loudly in my mind.

"Meet me after school to help me practice for play auditions?" she asked smiling, as she backed away towards the school building.

"Of course."

I thought about the words she said as I slowly walked back to the school buildings. "She's a good person." Sandy knew people. If she had one natural talent above all, it was being able read people. If Sandy stated someone was a good person, well, you'd be wrong to doubt it. But, Helga G. Pataki? When had she ever done anything good? How could she be described as good?

But I paused as I searched my memory for something to hold onto—memories of Helga. The time I had lost my little blue hat—the one my parents had given me—and somehow Helga, all covered in bird poo and smelling of trash, had found it and given it back to me. Or the time she stood up to her father with me and we saved the oldest tree in the neighborhood. Or the time Lila broke my heart and Helga was there with a comforting hand and kind words. Or so many other times that she seemed to be there. What about when she had helped me save the neighborhood?! That was a good thing to do—helping all those people who would have lost their homes.

But I stopped dead in his tracks outside of the classroom. Wait a minute, I thought, Helga told me that night…could she still feel…nah! We were nine years old! That was years ago! Shaking my head I entered English class and quietly sat down.

A/N: Well, this is it. Now before you judge on my characters...just remember what's been happening and how long it's been since they were nine. If you feel Arnold was ooc that's fine, but I don't think he is. I feel like growing up I was the Arnold and was bullied myself...years later I've learned to be a self-advocate, and I think if I had the chance to meet up with my bullies again, I'd probably lose my temper too. I felt that having to deal with Helga again after so long, would maybe push him off the deep end. He's not the child he once was, he's lived some life and he's a teenager. But all in all, hope you enjoyed.

Posted: July 2008

Updated: March 2016

-Arnold's Love