A/N: You probably hate me. Just when they get back together I rip them apart. Keep with me, this is an AxH story, I promise. For now, we see the aftermath of the party from some new perspectives. I am experimenting with my POV shifts throughout the story. I felt stymied by sticking to a single person's POV per chapter, so we might see some similar departures from that style like from chapter seven. I haven't decided if this POV potpourri will be a recurring thing, so please leave comments about this format if you have an opinion one way or the other.

Keeping Arnold, Chapter Eight: A Song for the Sad Ones

"If happy I can be I will, if suffer I must I can." - William Faulkner

Brainy stood over the wrecks of Helga's guitar and amp on stage, lost for words. Sweat slicked his shirt to his chest and under his arms, wet from the cathartic release of the show. For Helga, it had been a moment of catastrophic release. For Brainy, it was more of a bittersweet outpour. He ran his eyes over the ruined splinters of Helga's guitar, following the split and curling strings in their death-throes dance up over the shattered pink body. He felt numb. Not sad, not angry, just absent. Departed from the scene of jubilant carnage he had just helped create.

The party had moved into the house after Helga and Arnold minutes ago. Brainy had watched them get carried away by the crowd, surfed to their destiny together by a sea of uplifting hands and encouraging shouts. All his friends from PS118 went in the house after them taking the lead, eager to listen in or catch a glimpse of the inevitable reunion. Only Phoebe had lingered to watch Brainy bend down and start wordlessly picking up the pieces of Helga's guitar, watching him from the roof of the frat house inscrutably. He barely paid her any mind, focusing instead on delicately lining up the shards and pieces of his short time with Helga in her guitar case, attempting to get one last look at the girl he had got to be with whole.

Loading the van alone helped him with his thoughts. Brian went through the motions of lifting amps, wrapping electrical cords, and disassembling their drum kit. All of it went back into his old beat up Volkswagen, stacked to the ceiling absent of any of the purpose and anticipation the last time he looked at the full trunk. There wasn't a show to go play, there wasn't anything to rehearse. These pieces of their lives would go back to their places in storage or underneath the Christmas trees in closets. Tucked away. Out of sight.

He sat on the roof of his van and rolled himself a cigarette. Helga and Arnold would be in the thick of it now, he knew. He could tell by the sudden rush of cheering on the other side of the house, somewhere in the front yard, that the two of them were leaving. Ashing the cigarette, he exhaled a large sigh of smoke and wondered if he would come home to the two of them.

An ugly thought, to say the least.

It wasn't that he was not happy for Helga. Her dream was finally unfolding, and the boy she'd been pining after for her whole life would at last reciprocate her truest feelings. As her close friend, he was happy for her. He was sure that the life she wanted with Arnold would come for her soon.

It was just the fact that his role in her life would soon be obsoleted, and there would quickly be no room for him as Helga's roommate. Realistically, he gave it a month before Helga wanted to move in with Arnold instead, assuming that the football headed boy ended up staying in Hillwood. And he'd be a special kind of stupid to make the kind of mistake necessary to leave again.

Brian was lighting a second cigarette when he heard small footfalls crunch the gravel near his van. He looked down, seeing Phoebe looking up at him from over her small horn rimmed glasses.

"Hi Brian. I came to talk."

Brainy nodded at her, sliding from the roof of his van and dusting his trousers off. He leaned against the hood, watching the large crowd of people dispersing in the front lawn, spilling out into the streets. He spotted several of his old friends among them. They all looked very happy.

"I would have to be especially unobservant to be unaware of your feelings. Tonight must have been especially difficult for you."

"Uh, yeah." He felt like that was a gross understatement. But Phoebe always had a hand for subtlety.

"For what it is worth, I think you did the right thing by Helga. It takes a lot of courage to let someone you care for so deeply go. I know you've been Helga's silent partner in her role in the party tonight, but your cooperation has been instrumental for us, too. Gerald and myself. I wanted to extend my sincerest thanks to you for everything."

Brian had been dreading a conversation of this type since the half-baked conspiracy began. He most certainly didn't want to engage with Hillwood's most loquacious busybody in a conversation about his complex feelings for Helga. He chose not to respond, stubbing his cigarette out onto the thick black rubber of his van's front tire.

"And...I wanted to come ask you for help in the next part." Phoebe sounded reluctant to ask him this terrible thing. Brian just looked at her with his hazel eyes, mouth slightly open. Was she really asking him for more?

"You see...sometime tonight, there is an extremely high probability that Arnold will tell Helga that he is engaged to be married to Lila Sawyer sometime around Christmas."

Brainy's jaw dropped fully open. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. Arnold was engaged to Lila. And he just left the frat house with Helga. Brian turned his head, gazing off in the direction that they had left. What was happening to Helga right now? Was she alright? Was Arnold doing something unspeakable, and sullying her while he was promised to someone else?

Brian looked back at Phoebe, his jaw clenched.

"Yes, I can see you understand the difficulty of the situation we find ourselves in. However, you should know, we planned all of this knowing that Arnold was promised to Lila. In fact, their engagement is the precise reason we planned any of it. I'd like to explain everything to you fully. Now, actually."

Brainy could hardly believe his ears. How could Phoebe be doing something so...monstrous to Helga? Wasn't she her best friend since they were three? What else was she hiding, and to what depths would she sink?

Brian nodded firmly at her.

"Great. We'll be meeting Gerald at the diner. We're planning on celebrating a job well done with some coffee and a slice of pie. The two of us will happily explain everything. Just know, we are acting in what we believe to be Arnold and Helga's best interests...and, what's more, we have Lila's blessing."

The hit just kept coming. He didn't know what to expect any more. She could tell him anything and he would probably believe her.

"I think you probably have a lot of questions, and your distrust is understandable. But, if the plan is going to work, we have to execute the rest of the steps with the same level of precision as we did tonight. And your assistance is instrumental. The unique nature of your relationship to Helga is a pivotal resource that we must be unafraid to exploit if we will accomplish what we must."

Brian stepped into his van, starting the engine and letting the seat belt warning chime ding away. Phoebe leaned into the window on her tip toes, looking concerned.

"I'll find a way to make it up to you somehow, Brian, I promise. I just want you to-" Brainy held up his hand and shook his head.

"No," he said, then, "I'll see you at the diner."

Phoebe watched him drive off in the rearview mirror in his van. She grew smaller and more remote in his periphery, until she trotted back into the house, out of sight.

Whatever they were planning, Brian decided, he would play along just until he found a way to dismantle it all. Helga didn't deserve this, and he would protect her from them all.

"Tsk, honestly, the duvet is positively ruined," Rhonda clucked her tongue and shook her head, regarding the chaos and aftermath of the party in the large central living room of the frat house. Eugene was stooped over, picking up plastic cups with a contented smile on his small face. "A thousand years of gratitude to you, Eugene, your help is deeply appreciated."

Eugene smiled sunnily at her, shaking the large hefty bag full of red plastic solo cups with a cheeky laugh. "Oh, no, picking up trash is my way of having fun, Rhonda. I'm happy to help."

Rhonda bent her hand on her hip, shifting her weight and looking around the room in more detail. She notably didn't move to pick anything up, but rather occupied herself with looking stylishly thoughtful. It was a task she performed admirably.

"I can't believe it finally happened," Eugene said, breaking up the silence. "After all these years, they finally got it out in the open."

Rhonda nearly reminded Eugene that he had a lot of experience with why it's sometimes a good idea to keep things secret, but thought better of it at the last minute. Discretion had never been her strong suit, but sometimes Rhonda managed to keep a level head when there was nothing to be gained from a catty remark.

"Yes, it certainly was dramatic. How very like Helga. I have to say, however, she could have given me a little advance warning about her little Joe Strummer stunt. The sparks could have set my dress ablaze." Rhonda sighed in exasperation. Really, Helga was impossible to reason with half the time and a positive boor the other, but even Rhonda had to admit, the show was suitable for her. Having lived through it, should couldn't imagine any other possible course of events. "Did you see any of the letters that were getting projected? Talk about embarrassing. Some real Dashboard Confessional stuff. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something like that that I wrote got shown to everyone I knew and a hundred other people besides."

Eugene tied the bag off, and set it down by the collecting stack of them at the front door. He stood facing away from Rhonda, and then turned his head slowly, a smile still on his lips when he sadly answered her. "Rhonda, we both know what happened the last time a letter you wrote ended up in the wrong hands."

She shut up immediately. Rhonda chalked it up to still being a little tipsy and forgetting who it was she was talking to. Of course they were the only two people in the world who knew that sad story from start to finish. Guilt worked its way into her heart, and Rhonda responded to guilt with viciousness and cruelty, a protective mechanism she built up over years of parental apathy.

"That's old history, Eugene. Nothing will come of you speaking of it. And we were having such a pleasant conversation, too, just like old times. That's your problem, Eugene, you simply have no sense of tact or decorum."

The small boy didn't answer her, and just kept smiling as he collected trash. His impenetrable smile infuriated Rhonda. How small he looked, hunched over a table and gathering garbage. Even if she had a hand in some awful things that happened to Eugene, Rhonda would never admit that she was the one at fault for his misery. The fact that he tried to insinuate the opposite roused her wrathful streak.

"Fine, fine, keep quiet. That's something you should have done in the first place." She walked out the front door, done with playing maid for Gerald. She wanted to see Sid. He always cheered her up, the little slimeball, with his smooth moves and sweet words.

She found him on the porch, where he had been most of the night, finishing off the contents of a bottle of beer and looking rather becoming in his all black attire, even if it did scream that he was trying too hard. Rhonda slipped up next to him, folding the back of her red dress down when she took a seat on the steps.

"Hey, beautiful," Sid grinned at her. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and his pupils pinpricks. Rhonda liked Sid when he was on blow. He had a daredevil streak in him. What she liked most of all about Sid was that he knew how to keep his mouth shut, however.

"Hey yourself, you little pusher. How dare you rake in such an exorbitant fortune at the expense of Gerald's guests." She paused, smiling, and putting a hand on his shoulder. "It is exorbitant, right, Sid?"

"Bow howdy, and then some. I think I'll buy myself another car with tonight's haul." Sid tilted the beer bottle Rhonda's way, and Rhonda covered her nose and mouth with a dainty hand.

"Ugh, no thank you. You know I don't drink anything domestic. I can smell the blue collar of the guy that poured that bottle."

Sid sneered at her playfully, shaking his head as he pulled from the bottle deeply. "Whatever you say, babe."

"So, Sid, I was thinking," she began, two fingers walking up his hand and arm playfully. "What do you say I take you up on one of those offers you so gallantly made me tonight."

Sid had made several passes at Rhonda tonight, as was typical of him. He had grown into quite the ambitious entrepreneur, and an accomplished ladies man to boot, and even though her reputation would suffer ignominious wounding if word ever got out that she was sleeping with him on the regular, she somehow found herself still drawn to him more often than not. He made her smile, and that at least gave him value. She was eager to get to her place and get started.

Instead he answered her request with a question.

"Do I make you happy like that, Rhonda?" Did set the bottle down, looking out at the street and the stragglers still gathered on the lawn.

Rhonda found his question to be unspeakably vulgar. What business was it of his how she felt when he was given the privilege of being with her at all? She resented Sid's sudden attempted intrusion into the vault of her heart. She tried to redirect, knowing that usually Sid was an easy one to distract. Her hand slid from his shoulder, into his lap.

"I enjoy myself perfectly well, stupid boy. I can see you do, too, so, let's make a hasty retreat to a nice hotel and treat ourselves to a couple of lines and each other's company?"

Sid surprised her when he shouldered her arm away from him, looking seriously at her. His dark eyes were oddly penetrating from above his long, noble Sicilian nose. "No, I mean it, Rhonda. Watching those two get back together again, it made me think. I don't mind just fooling around in secret and letting you mooch off my supply, but didn't they seem happy? Like, way happier than you or I ever feel around each other?"

Rhonda's temper started to rise, but the level-headed queen of PS118 could manage something as simple as severing ties with a boytoy. She'd done it dozens of times before. She regretted having to do it to Sid, mostly because of their long shared history as friends. It would be annoying to her feelings to be separated from a childhood friend.

She slipped her hands into her lap, and sighed out the tense feeling of frustration she already began to germinate. "Sid, I think we're done now. It's just not going to happen; we're not like those two." She turned and surprised herself with the bitterness in her voice. "I don't know if anyone is like those two, not really."

Sid pressed on. "I think it's worth a shot to try. What's the worst that could happen?"

Plenty, you idiot. Rhonda had no interest in pursuing anything even remotely resembling a true romance with Sid, or anyone for that matter. It was just too difficult to manage her image when she had to double check the work of another person. It's why she'd cut ties with Nadine eventually, and why Nadine left Hillwood shortly thereafter.

"Did you not hear where I said I think we are done?" Her tone was cold. She didn't look at him.

"Of course she has no interest in you," a familiar nasal voice interrupted them. Rhonda and Sid looked up to see Thaddeus walking around the house towards them. "A nobody like you, some low level pusher? Stay in your lane, Icarus, you have no business flying this close to the sun."

Sid scowled. Rhonda definitely didn't want to deal with Curly on top of having to sever ties with Sid. Things had gotten troublesome very quickly.

"Hello Curly," Sid said slowly. "You know, it's pretty not cool to barge into a conversation that has nothing to do with you. I'll even ignore the 'pusher' remark if you apologize and walk away right now."

"It's Thaddeus to the likes of you, or better yet, Mr. Gammelthorpe. I don't apologize to those who are beneath my notice."

Rhonda scooted back from Sid, beginning to get nervous. She'd already heard that Curly had incited a fight with Patty earlier. If he was this aggressive, it might escalate with Sid as well.

What worried her is that Sid wasn't just a charming, smooth-talking dealer, he was extremely well connected. Rhonda had, on several occasions, pretended not to listen when he got a suspicious phone call, whispering quietly, and continued to act ignorant when he suddenly had to leave for days at a time. She didn't know who he was in with, she didn't want to know, but she knew that Thaddeus had to tread carefully.

Sid slowly stood up, squaring his shoulders with Curly and looking serious. It took a lot to rile Sid up, he was typically very cool-headed and very difficult to ruffle. Rhonda desperately wanted to avoid getting Sid escalated towards the point where the evening would go extremely astray.

She stood up and slipped between them, facing Curly. "Thaddeus, I heard that you've been looking for me all night. Why don't we get caught up right now?"

Sid shot her a surprised look. She held her mask, unflinching at the hurt in his eyes. Curly curled a lip in victory. "It's about time. let's ditch the local wildlife and make ourselves comfortable someplace expensive. My treat, of course, princess"

Rhonda felt revulsion bubble in her at his little nickname for her. She normally felt giddy when someone offered to treat her to something expensive, but when Thaddeus did it, the feeling within her was pure disgust. She hid it as best she could with a blank expression. "That sounds good."

Curly nodded a victorious gesture towards Sid, and started off towards his Bentley.

Rhonda turned around as soon as Curly was around the block, grabbing Sid by the shirt and kissing him hard. She shoved her tongue into his mouth, immediately deepening the kiss. Sid responded in turn, but after a passionate moment pulled away quickly. He stared at her, obviously confused. "Whoa, Rhonda, what the hell? Weren't you just dumping me?"

Rhonda looked at his shirt instead of his eyes, and tried to make sense of what she felt inside of herself. She was somehow very worried about legitimately hurting Sid's feelings, despite herself. And something about the thought of Sid in a dangerous situation made her sick inside.

"Look, I...may have been being too hasty. I do think we can talk about what you want to talk about-later. I have to handle Curly, I'm the only one that can."

Sid looked at her from inches away, his hand on her elbow. She was oddly touched by the intimate contact. "I don't get you, Lloyd. I guess I'm not smart enough to follow how you work."

Rhonda smiled fondly, finally making eye contact and stepping away from him. "No, you're not. But I like it that way. I'll call you tonight when I'm done with Thad. It won't take long."

Sid considered something, then suggested, "You should text me the address of where he takes you, and send me an 'I'm okay' message every ten minutes. If 11 minutes passes and I don't have one, I'm coming with three other guys."

Something within her was oddly touched at his concern. She was confident that she could handle Curly without any issue, but decided to humor his chivalrous request. "Yes sir. Anything else for me?"

"Yeah, actually," Sid looked surprised, as if he had forgotten something. "I got this text from a number I don't recognize. Normally I wouldn't tell you about that, but the person said she was Lila and she needed to talk to you, specifically."

"Lila? As in, Lila Sawyer, wonder girl, long since departed from Hillwood?" Rhonda was a little surprised. She hadn't heard that name in a long time.

"Yeah. Here let me read the text...hold on." Sid fished in his pocket for his phone, and Rhonda stood wondering what else on Earth tonight would bring.

"Here it is:

'Sid, this is Lila Sawyer. I got your number from Peapod Kid, and I got his number from Sheena. I need Rhonda's number. I have to talk to her immediately. It's about Helga and Arnold. She's the only one who can help me with this, nobody else is equipped for the job. Do not tell anyone you got this request, please.'

"So, yeah. Kinda weird. I didn't tell anyone else."

Rhonda held her chin, looking out into the middle distance while she thought. Why would Lila need my help with Arnold and Helga? Unless it had to do with why Arnold returned so suddenly…

"Good job. Continue to not tell anyone. In fact, give me your phone." She held her dainty hand out assertively. Sid dropped his iPhone into her hand without hesitation. She loved that he trusted her like that.

Rhonda copied the number down, and then deleted the number from Sid's phone and blocked the number from contacting him. She handed the phone back to him with a sweet smile. "Perfect. You're a dream, Sid. Thank you. I'll send you those updates and the addresses. Then when I'm done we'll get together and have that talk."

Sid grinned at her, pocketing his phone. "I'll have those lines ready for you, and the hotel room." Rhonda curled a feline grin.

"Perfect," she said, and meant it.

Phoebe sat with Gerald and Brainy in the diner booth, enjoying the warming feel of the stale, too-hot coffee their waitress had poured her. She normally opted for tea, but tonight called for a strong wake-up dose of Joe.

Gerald was tucking into a big plate of waffles and sausage, ravenous after an exhausting performance. She had been exceedingly proud of his efforts, feeling powerfully attracted to her boyfriend when he was on stage. Brainy chewed silently on his piece of toast, the only thing the quiet boy had ordered. Finally, she started the difficult conversation.

"Brian, I mentioned to you earlier that Arnold is engaged to Lila." Better to cut right to the heart of it. He nodded, looking tired.

"Well, it appears that as of right before the party, that is no longer the case. Tell him, Gerald."

Gerald swallowed a mouthful of syrup and sausage, tapping the table with his finger. "My man texted me before the party. I didn't get it until we rolled up to the diner. Kinda changes the game, but apparently he and Lila got into it before the party and he broke things off. Said it was 'only fair.' Bold move, and probably the right one."

Phoebe followed it up with her analysis. "I believe that we could not have asked for anything better. Honestly, this eases things for us. If Arnold was single for the party, my conscience is significantly clearer. It might also mitigate Helga's fury at discovering their betrothal."

Brainy looked at her, obviously worried about Helga.

"Yes, it's very likely that the news would hurt her significantly. It was inevitable, though, Brian. The moment Arnold made the engagement, he was going to hurt Helga. We couldn't stop that, but we did what we could to soften the blow." Phoebe legitimately believed what they were doing was for the best. They weren't done, however. Lila was still in the game, she had to assume, and still a threat. She owed it to Lila to treat her as a very dangerous factor in their plans.

"But, if Arnold spilled the beans and Helga didn't freak out, then the next part will be a lot easier," Gerald continued. "In fact, easy as pie. But we gotta assume he did, 'cause he's Arnold and the damn fool can't help but be honest even when it's gonna fuck everything up."

Brian rubbed his cheek with the flat of his hand, trying to make heads or tails of it all. Phoebe guess that he still wasn't sure what the exact sequence of events were, and that he didn't have the type of talents she or Gerald possessed for unraveling. He probably had to listen and observe for some time before he could intuit the truth of a situation. Just being told the facts didn't help him.

"So," Phoebe continued, watching Brian absorb what he could. "We told Helga that if anything happened tonight that she wasn't expecting, to meet us here. Time will tell if she is able to follow this request, or if it will even be necessary. My calculated assumption is that Arnold will be unable to resist telling Helga even if the timing is not correct, and she will come here, quite upset. Or she will run to your apartment. And that's where you're needed."

"Knowing Pataki, girl's gonna be seven different kinds of pissed off and lookin' to lash out. If you want to help, and we really think you should, the best thing to do is help her get through this as closely alinged to 'not mad at arnold anymore' as possible."

Phoebe watched Brian carefully as Gerald made their request. She was sure he would be offended that they would try to manipulate his close friendship with Helga. If she was right about how close they were, Brainy would behave in one of a few different ways.

She surprised him when he opened his mouth to reply by launching into one of the theories, the most likely to occur, to try to cut him off and set him off balance.

"You're going to refuse because you think we're being manipulative of Helga and you, and maybe even Arnold. You feel that we should let things take their course and that we shouldn't try to use your friendship with Helga as a resource to keep her and Arnold together. Your concerns are very valid, Brian, and I would concur with you entirely, except," Phoebe folded her hands in front of her, slowing down her tirade. "Helga and Arnold have never been able to connect with one another meaningfully without something terrible getting in the way. The TPi thing, the whole Jungle adventure with his parents, Lila's engagement, the list is filled with extremely unlikely and profound circumstances that seemed to always perfectly align to get in their way."

Brian hesitated, peering at her. She'd clearly set him on his heels. Good.

"Would you agree that perhaps, it's about time that we tried to counteract those forces for once, and provide them the extra strength and support they so clearly deserve so that they can be happy?" There it was. Her coups de grace. She knew she could count on Brainy being deeply sympathetic to Helga's unlucky streak, and a lifetime of lost chances and missed opportunities. She pressed on, needing to plunge the knife deeper.

"Furthermore, we are not callously manipulating them to be in love with one another - that's already the case. You saw the show. All we are doing is working against their specific natures and the enormous weight of clumsy destiny to help them achieve what is so clearly meant to be. We're not suggesting that anyone trick anyone else. But Arnold is almost guaranteed to make mistakes with Helga, and Helga cannot help herself with her fury and her passion when it comes to him. They need help. That's all we're asking, is to give it to them."

Brian looked down at the table, and Phoebe was sure she had him. It helped that she spoke with absolute conviction, 100% sure in the message she delivered. She truly believed they were doing the right thing. And Helga and Arnold never had to know that they worked so hard to move mountains to give them the best chance at being together they'd ever likely get.

"Arnold has to stay in Hillwood," Gerald finally spoke up. "I can't let my best buddy leave again, but the damn fool's got his head all tied up in jungle vines and messed up shit in South America. He doesn't see how things are here now, and I'm gonna work on him, just like we want you to work with Helga. We gotta turn their heads and open their eyes. That's all."

Brian clenched his jaw and looked back up at them, nodding slowly. "Okay," he finally spoke. "I'll do it."

Phoebe and Gerald relaxed, their bodies going slack. Gerald laughed a little, looking up at the ceiling. Brian looked surprised at them, and Phoebe smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, Brian. We're your friends, too. We know we're asking a lot of you, especially considering-" she stopped when Brian started to blush. "Well, we just know this is hard. But we're very thankful. We would never ask a favor this big if it wasn't those two. We were nervous about this confrontation."

Phoebe was full of gratitude when the conversation turned to appreciation of the show. They chatted and nibbled on their plates, mutually exhausted from a nightmarish week and cathartic night of emotional tension. It felt good to joke around with Brian again, once the difficult conversation had taken place.

Finally, it came time to part ways, and Phoebe needed to give Brian one last message. After the bill had been paid, and they were milling about outside the cafe, she touched his elbow gently. He looked down at her, surprised at the contact.

"Brian, there's one more thing." She tried to make this as gentle as she could. "Don't sleep with Helga. No matter what, whatever you do. Do not go into her bed. She may try. She may beg, she might even threaten you. We have no idea what she might do, if she is emotionally distraught. But you cannot give in. You mustn't. Please."

He just looked at her. Gerald tried to act like he hadn't heard anything. Phoebe couldn't get a read on Brainy's silent, unresponsive gaze. He left her without answering, and unsure of what his intentions might be.

"Alright, Thaddeus, you've got me in your car." Rhonda crossed one long leg over the other, impatient to get this over with. "What is this about?"

She was horrified when his previously confident face twisted into a grimace of pain, and he started to hyperventilate. She thanked God that they were at a red light, or she was certain they would have just veered into a ditch. She watched in silent horror while he clutched at his chest and gasped, his sunglasses falling off his face into his lap to reveal reddened, bloodshot eyes.

What in the hell is wrong with him? She became very nervous, and held her purse close to her body for comfort.

"What the hell Curly, what's wrong?" She sounded as concerned as she felt. She didn't hate Curly, he just repulsed her physically. And mentally. In every way, actually.

He choked back a gasping sob, cutching his chest near his tie, and looked at her with pain on his face. "Everybody was so, so mean."

Rhonda sighed, truly exasperated but fully cognizant of why Curly was so upset. She was the only person who knew the truth, as far as she was aware.

"I d-don't understand they j-just laid into me right away," he struggled it out, managing to push the expensive car into motion when the light changed. "I didn't even say anything and they started in with th-their viciousness."

Poor Curly, Rhonda inwardly sighed. Nobody but her in Hillwood knew it, but Curly suffered from pretty severe social anxiety. Unfortunately, he was also irrationally hostile when he was triggered, his anxiety expressing with hyperactive vitriol and bile. He was probably triggered the instant someone recognized him and teased him for his attire. Sid was a likely culprit.

"And, and then P-patty hits me. And Arnold, what the hell happened to him? He used to always be s-so n-n-nice."

"Oh, Thad." Rhonda may have felt that Curly was a repulsive antithesis to her, and found his personality uncomfortably similar to hers and therefore unspeakably repellant, she wasn't devoid of compassion and fondness for his weaknesses wormed itself into a patience she sometimes could express to him. He was special to her, in the manner she could manage, but the complex and confusing nature of their friendship and his unwanted romantic feelings for her kept her at a distance. Usually.

When he fell apart in private with her, Rhonda found herself unable to hate him totally. He managed to earn her compassion, born of her pity.

"They just don't know how to talk to you," she offered quietly. She texted Sid to tell him they were still in his car. "After your incident, most everyone has reason to mock you and distrust you. What you did to Sheena was...well." She didn't elaborate. That ugly incident didn't need to be elaborated on. Sheena was recovered now, but everybody recalled with fresh clarity his nervous breakdown and the collateral damage it inflicted on their friend.

"But so much time has passed," he bitterly replied, finally having life in his voice again. "And they are no better! None of them are innocent, they all have blood on their hands!"

"Thaddeus, I think it's maybe best if you don't come back to Hillwood." Rhonda didn't look at him. It hurt her somehow to suggest it, but she couldn't reasonably suggest any sort of attempt at reconciliation. Better to move on, and start a new life.

"I won't leave here without you," he darkly chuckled. The sound made her nervous. Her finger pressed the button to call Sid, holding it down. If she lifted her finger, Sid would be on the other line in an instant.

"I am not going anywhere with you, Thaddeus. Pull over. Now."

"I wish Arnold was here," he sighed, congested from the tears he had choked back. "He would fix this. I won't pull over. You're going to come with me, and listen to my apology, and then we will start over together."

Rhonda growled with impatience. "None of that is happening tonight or ever, Thaddeus. Don't make me regret feeling sympathetic to you just a moment ago. I am warning you, pull over and let. Me. Out."

He hesitated drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he thought. "Fine," he finally said. Maybe there was some rational side of him left. "But only if you promise to listen to my apology before you go."

She breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't going to try to take her by force.

"Alright, Thaddeus, I will listen just this once. Make it good, though. I don't think we will see much of each other tonight ever again." She meant it. He was too unstable, too unpredictable, and too threatening for her to feel safe around. Even if she felt bad for him, and felt some loyalty to their shared history, enough was just about enough.

Curly pulled them over into a parking lot. He squeezed the steering wheel with white knuckled concentration, breathing ragged and his forehead damp with sweat.

Finally, he spoke.

"I'm sorry for harassing you like an absolute churl for all these years. Nobody else listens to me the way you do. I always felt like we were kindred spirits, like you understood me in some way, and I became infatuated with this perception. I...made mistakes. I exacerbated the problem by amplifying my outbursts and projecting my insecurities on you and the others. When I hurt Sheena," he paused, and Rhonda watched him remember the painful memory. "Well, I have done what there is to be done about that. I just wanted to say, that I apologize to you. For everything. Watching Arnold and Helga tonight, I just couldn't stop remembering all the hideous things I have done and said. You never deserved my abuse, and I always just wanted your love and attention. I am sorry I was never able to accept that you wouldn't be mine."

Rhonda was stunned. He really had apologized. He had owned up to his awful behavior in high school. He actually apologized for all the nasty things he did when she "friendzoned" him, as he viciously put it. She was struggling to think of something to say, when he interrupted her thoughts with a final message.

"I won't bother anyone ever again. You won't have to worry about ol' Thaddeus anymore."

That gave her pause. She didn't push any further. She simply nodded, and put her hand on the door handle opening it slowly. She slipped out of the car, leaning down to give him one last good look. Something told her she should.

"Thank you, Thaddeus. Goodbye," she hesitated, feeling the rush of the word leaving her lungs, chilling her as it went. "And, you can call me sometime. We'll keep up."

Curly smiled sadly at her, reaching over to shut the door. Rhonda watched him drive off, pulling out of sight in the distance. She lifted her finger off the button on her phone, putting it up to her ear.

"Yeah? Everything okay?" Sid didn't beat around the bush.

"I don't know. Pick me up. I'm at the corner of Wallace and 10th."

"On my way, babe." Rhonda hung up.

I really hope I am wrong, she thought. He isn't that stupid. He won't do anything to himself.

Rhonda started going through the mass of texts she got from her informants at the party, sincerely hoping she was wrong.

Lila took a long drink from her mason jar of sweet peach tea, the large ice cubes jingling and jangling in the oversized glass as she brought it to her naturally salmon colored lips. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead, sliding down her freckled cheek, and plunging down the dramatic feminine balcony of her chin. She swung gently in her porch swing, her legs dangling beneath her as the white wooden swing creaked back and forth in the late Summer night.

A few candles lit the porch around her, casting dappled and dancing amber light on everything. The house was otherwise dark, and as quiet as the two story unoccupied farmhouse ever got. Up above, just outside the mosquito netting barrier that enshrouded the porch, a beautiful night sky sliced through with the Milky Way glittered and shone onto the peaceful acres of farmlands that were her birthright.

With Arnold gone, it was all she had left. She had a mind to enjoy it while it was still hers.

She looked out over the little hill that swelled gradually up in the back of the large field she used to play in as a little girl. The happy memory of the hill pushing up under her legs as she climbed it again and again just to roll down, squealing with laughter, felt bittersweet as she rocked in her swing, no longer able to do any of that. Someday, hopefully soon, she would be able to walk again, but this farm would be long gone by that day.

Arnold had rushed to her aid immediately after the flood that took her parents. They didn't see how deep the water had been, and tried to drive through. She had cried for a week, and Arnold stayed with her the whole time, holding her hand through the funeral, attending the reading of their will, and never straying from her side. He had been a Godsend, and Lila was truly thankful for his help.

He sat down with her and helped her figure out what she was going to do about the farm. It broke her heart to sell it, especially she had finally moved back from Hillwood just a few years ago. But she and Arnold went over it in every way they could imagine, and, sadly, selling the farm was the only way. She had left the farm with Arnold later that month, and joined him in San Lorenzo while the lawyer prepared the sale.

And then everything went wrong in the jungle.

A warm breeze tinkled the wind chimes above her head. She rolled her head back, feeling the bourbon she had spiked her tea with start to warm her skin. She hadn't gotten drunk since Arnold's first night at the farm. She smiled privately at the memory of the taste of sweet corn bourbon on his lips. She had kissed him, of course. Arnold never made a move on her himself, but learned to follow her lead fast enough. She'd almost gotten him in her bed, but had been too drunk, and he kissed her forehead with affection and tucked her in and let her sleep it off, alone. She never got the nerve to try again. And now he was in Hillwood, likely doing the things with Helga that she wanted him to do with her.

The unexpected talk with Helga had been difficult. She was the last person that Lila had wanted to talk to in that moment, but in a terrible way, nothing could have been more appropriate. Arnold had broken her heart before the party and requested she remove the ring that once sat on her finger, and now lay profoundly on the table next to her, on top of her family Bible. And then Helga had killed what was left of it with her viciousness and cruelty. She had to hand it to Helga; if she had put half as much passion into keeping Arnold around before as Helga did in taking him, he might still be at her farm with her.

She drank deeply from the mason jar, the sweet burn of the bourbon mixed peach tea warming her throat and dizzying her senses. She need good old fashion stupefication tonight. She recalled the first time she drank, sneaking strawberry wine in the barn with her cousin. They had overindulged in that sickly sweet libation, tittering together at the ridiculousness of boys and the meaningless chatter of their teenage peers. She recalled she had confessed her blossoming affection for Arnold to her cousin, her freckled cheeks red from drink and embarrassment. How appropriate, then, that she would get drunk tonight and think of Arnold again.

Of course, Lila was not done. She wasn't some wilting flower. Her mother had fought to give her a sense of agency and an inner strength that she now leaned on with a thankful heart. It was worth all the typical teenage strife she had gone through with her mom, to learn the lessons of independence and principled self-confidence. She still had tools at her disposal. And Helga had given her something tonight. She had lit the dimming flames in her heart, her boastful bellows roaring to life the cooling furnaces of passion that her injury and tragedy had almost quenched.

If Sid ever gave her Rhonda's number, the pieces would begin to move. The work she had given to Phoebe and Gerald would find a foe more terrible in Lila than they ever anticipated. Only Gerald would have an inkling of what they were up against. Even he, though, would have trouble stopping her once she got started.

She set her mason jar down, the iced drink tinkling gently. Her delicate fingers rest on the black book next to her family Bible, similar in size and shape, a small moleskine with hand-worn edges and yellowed pages. There were no holy verses in her version, however.

Somehwere in Hillwood, Gerald had the only other copy of this book. His version was incomplete, however.

Fuzzy Slippers, the secret information broker for all the urban legends, rumors, and secrets of Hillwood, in actuality Lila Sawyer these many years, reached for her cell phone when it began to ring in the quiet of the late summer evening. She didn't recognize the number but was still absolutely certain it was Rhonda.

Time to get to work, she thought, and answered the phone with a dainty "Hello?"