Chapter Three: Jaden:

As soon as Helen drops me off from the museum, I race into my bedroom and fling open my MacBook, my mind racing a thousand miles a minute. The whole time we were looking at urinals (yes, that is one of Duchamp's most famous pieces – I didn't find it as interesting as Helen did nor as funny as Owen did – seriously, how old is he again?), all I could think about re-watching Mice, a huge lump forming at the back of my throat. I know I should have been concentrating on the artwork – practicing mindfulness or whatever Helen calls it, especially as my plan was to take a break from Mice in order to get a fresh perspective when I returned – but I couldn't stop worrying.

I put on Season 3, episode 5. After the theme song, a catchy rendition of "Scarborough Faire," Thesidauticus starts explaining Bernoulli's Principal to two of his friends. And yes, I know very well that Bernoulli's Principal hadn't been discovered in King Arthur's Day, but anachronisms like this have always been part of Mice's charm, in my opinion. Usually, Thesidauticus' lectures crack me up – in fact, he's usually my favorite character – but as he babbles on, I can't help but feel something at the back of my mind. This is actually boring. Not only that, but it's also annoying. No, I think, my throat swelling with tears, that simply cannot be! Maybe I'm just in a bad mood after that ridiculous outing with Helen and Owen. I didn't hear much of what they were saying, as I was so busy ruminating over the fact that I might no longer enjoy my favorite show, but I'm sure Helen and Owen were both especially annoying. Maybe I just need to fast forward a bit.

But the rest of the episode isn't much better. Sure, I still appreciate it on a technical level. It's still brilliant. I know it is. But at the same time, I just don't feel it. I watch a second and then a third episode and find, to my dismay, that not only am I not feeling it, but I actually find the episodes boring – something which has never, ever happened before while watching Mice. Tears cloud my vision, so I quickly remove my glasses and wipe them delicately with the bottom of my shirt.

Calm down, Jaden, I tell myself. Maybe you just need a longer break. But I'd never needed a break from Mice before. Something about this seems serious, permanent, and a great, crushing emptiness swells in my chest as my lungs constrict and the room blurs through my tears. Then, the emptiness is replaced by icy, hard, choking terror that makes it difficult to swallow. What if I've just wasted half a year of my life devoted to something that, well, sucks? Mice is just a show, after all. But I've spent so much time focused on it that I literally have nothing else in my life – and, yes, I do mean "literally" literally. I've been such an obsessive moron that I replaced my life with a television show and couldn't even see why that might not be the best idea.

I need to talk to someone. But who? I'm not sure how creating a thread on the Mice forum would help me. If anything, it would probably just piss Mouse_Fan and King Arthur off. And my real life friends are definitely out of the question, too, as I haven't talked to any of them since school got out a month ago (and precious little before that, too, if I'm honest, as I spent an increasingly large amount of time on the school computers at lunch instead of eating with them as the semester went on). My father is at work, but even if he weren't, I'm sure all he would do is role his eyes, say "oh well," and tell me to get outside more – his suggestion for pretty much everything.

And then it dawns on me: just earlier today Helen told me that I could call her any time I needed to talk. Sure she may be an annoying poseur, but what other choice do I have? Knowing Helen, it was probably just one of those things adults think they are required to say and never really mean. But hey, if that was the case, she shouldn't have said it. There's nothing worse, in my opinion, than spewing bullshit you don't mean or making promises you have no intention of keeping. If she wants so badly to be involved in my life and in my problems, then this is a great place to start.

Helen answers on the first ring. "Jaden? What's wrong? Is everything okay?" she asks quickly and in a shrill voice. Clearly, I note, she wasn't expecting to hear from me. Not a good sign.

I realize I am still hyperventilating and take a deep breath. "No," I say, my voice coming out tight, almost strangled.

"Well, what's wrong?"

Despite the warmth and concern in her voice, I start to think this is a bad idea. I don't really want to explain it. I honestly don't even know how. "You wouldn't get it," I say, more sharply than I intend.

"Well, try me," she says. "Take your time." I make a quick mental note that she doesn't sound angry or impatient in the slightest despite my harsh tone. Pushover or not, I think, she is actually a pretty damn nice person.

"No, this was a bad idea," I stammer. "I should probably just go."

"Jaden!" she snaps, which takes me aback as she's only yelled at Hermione and myself a handful of times. "Look, you called me and I'm really, really glad you did – Owen and I are meeting Kevin and Becca for drinks in a few minutes, but we can always postpone – but if you're going to call me, the least you could do is tell me what's wrong!"

I am silent for a moment, wondering if maybe I should take back my thoughts about how Helen is a nice person. I have no idea who Kevin and Becca are, and I'm sure I don't care, but could she have been more passive aggressive?

"Jaden?" says Helen again, her voice softening. "Are you still there?" My throat floods with tears again and I am unable to respond. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you," she adds. "It's just, I can't help you if I don't know what's going on. Is it something to do with your father?" Hermione and I have both noticed that ever since Helen broke up with my dad, she tends to blame him for pretty much everything.

"No," I manage.

"Is it a girl, then? Or…is it a boy?"

I give a sharp unintentional snort. "Oh, real smooth, Helen," I sneer.

"What? I'm just asking. And it's completely okay with me if you are! I have lots of really good friends in the LGBT community."

Again, of course she does. She's friends with everyone ever. "Well, I'm not gay. And that's not what this is about. Sheesh. Could you just listen?"

Helen gives a small exasperated sigh. "I'm trying to, Jaden. What's going on?"

"It's hard to explain."

"Okay," she says.

"You're probably going to think it's really dumb and laugh at me."

"No WAY," Helen says vehemently. "I promise I would never laugh at someone's true, genuine feelings."

I can't help rolling my eyes at that. Likely she got that line from either her therapist or the leader at "Summer Camp for Adults with Issues."

"So, did you really mean that about how I could come to you at any time and tell you anything?" I ask. "Or were you just saying that to make yourself feel better?"

"I really, really meant it. Really!" Helen insists, but I'm pretty sure I don't believe her.

I sigh heavily and sit down on the edge of my bed. "Well, the thing is…It's just that…I don't think I like Mice anymore."

"Mice?" she repeats, sounding understandably confused.

"Yeah, you know, that show I watch all the time? The Mice of King Arthur's Court?"

"Oh. Oh yeah!" says Helen. "I watched it with you that one time. The one with those puppets. It was really…um…interesting. You don't like it anymore?"

"I'm not sure," I say. "I think I might not."

"Oh," she says carefully. "Why? I mean, what don't you like about it?"

"I don't NOT like it," I snap, again, not meaning to. "It just doesn't have the same spark as it used to have."

Helen gives a short laugh – the very thing she promised not to do – and then quickly covers her mouth and clears her throat. "I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to laugh. But, oh well, right?"

"NO! NOT OH WELL!" Even I am taken aback by the volume and forcefulness of my shouting.

"Jaden, look," Helen says after a few strained seconds of silence. "It's just a show."

"No it ISN'T just a show," I snap. "You don't understand."

Helen sighs again, this time not hiding her exasperation at all. "You're right," she says. "I guess I don't. I mean, it's too bad you don't like your favorite show anymore. I kind of went through the same thing with Breaking Bad recently, actually. I mean, It's a really well-made show and everything, but I think I might have just liked it because it's so popular and everyone's always talking about how great it is."

"Okay, that's not even close to being remotely the same thing, but whatever," I mumble. "Mice was the only thing making me happy."

"Oh, Jaden, that is SO not true!" Helen says, her voice sounding dangerously close to laughter again. "You have lots of other interests. Like, what about your drawings?"

Seriously? Has she never looked at said drawings before? "My drawings?" I repeat. "My drawings were always of Mice! They were my subject matter!" At this point, I realize I am crying again and my nose is starting to feel stuffed up.

I hear noises in the background and Helen murmuring something to Owen. "Look, Jaden…I'm sorry, but we really have to go. I want to keep talking about this though. In person, maybe. Is that okay? Maybe we could do for coffee? Or out to lunch?"

"Don't bother," I mutter and click off my iPhone.

She calls me back within two minutes, but I don't respond. Instead, I sit perfectly still on my bed, staring at the wall. One of the patterns looks a bit like a mouse and just seeing it causes my throat to swell, so I lock my eyes shut. I few minutes later, I am distracted by the ping of a text message.

"From: Helen," it says. "Do you want to come with me to the lake cabin this year?"