Written By Shaun Blankenship

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"So, Rhonda, are you going out on Halloween."

Harold had just sat next to Rhonda at her lunch table. "Didn't you grow out of that the same time everyone did?"

"Hey, candy is candy. If I can get it for free, it's even better. Besides, I'm not the only person…"

Rhonda cut him off, "No, I will not be trick-or-treating. I haven't done that since fifth grade. I'll be having a costume party instead."

Harold's eyes widened and jaw dropped. "Can I come?"

Rhonda stared back at the gaping idiot. "Yeah, sure. It starts at eight, ends whenever."

"Can I bring Patty?"

She rolled her eyes and pounded on the table. "Sure, I don't care. Leave me alone."

Harold looked at Rhonda's face curiously. "Hey, Rhonda. Your mascara's been running, what's wrong?"

She gave a bitter stare at the pudgy teen next to her. She looked away and explained, "I just got dumped."

"By who?"

"Robert."

"Robert, who's Robert?"

"Remember? That kid back in fourth grade who wrote that sonnet about me and won the contest?"

"Oh, that kid… I thought he died."

Rhonda pounded her fist on the table. "He didn't die, he still goes to this school. I asked him if he could come to my party, and he said only if he could bring his new girlfriend."

Harold thought for a minute. "Wait a minute. Were you ever going out with him?"

"No, but he has a girlfriend! He's forgotten about me completely! I don't know if he even remembers my name!"

"Well, did he ever say it?"

Rhonda looked at Harold with new tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "What?"

"If he didn't remember your name, he wouldn't have said it at all."

"Could you shut up? Who said you could sit by me anyway?"

"You just sound jealous."

"Of course I'm jealous! I broke up with him to strategically pawn him. I was going to let him dangle and then have him bring himself back like a yo-yo. The only problem was that he never came back! He started getting all goofy with other girls. You know, he was the only boy who's ever liked me that way?"

Harold pointed at Rhonda. "Ha! That's where you're wrong! What about Curly?"

"Curly spent sophomore year in a mental institution."

"All because he drove himself crazy… wanting you the way that he did…"

"Can we just not talk about Curly, please? I hated that little four-eyed creep and I always will, end of story. And besides, even Curly eventually got over me. Remember who he turned to then?"

"Yeah, Gloria. But then again, everybody likes Gloria. What's to hate?"

Rhonda glanced at her watch and back at Harold. "You are wasting my time with annoying chit-chat from the past. Please remove yourself before I revoke your invitation to my party."

Harold just blinked his eyes and walked away with his lunch tray in his hand. He then moved over to Arnold's table. "Hey, Arnold, you're in my Psychology class!"

Arnold looked up from his turkey sandwich and looked at Gerald for a silent confirmation of how to deal with this. "That's right, Harold, I am. In fact, I've been there for a while if you haven't noticed."

"Really?"

Gerald sighed depressingly. "So, what's new with you, Harold."

"Oh, nothing. Wait! There is something! Look, I got new shoes!" He swung a leg onto the top of the round table to display a new pair of black and red tennis shoes. "I can't pronounce the name of the company, but these shoes are just so cool! Don't you think?"

Arnold did not even make eye contact with Harold. He just swallowed another bite of his sandwich and gave him a thumb up. "They're great shoes, Harold. Great shoes."

"Thanks." He removed his foot from the table. "Hey, are you guys going out for Halloween?"

Gerald stepped in to answer this question. "Nah, we figured we're too old for that. We might dress up and go to Rhonda's party. Maybe hit a few houses on the way."

"Aww, you guys got invited to that too? So did I!"

Arnold once again pointed out a thumb to Harold. "Good for you, Harold."

"Well, I think I'm gonna go sit with Stinky and them. I'll see you guys later!"

Arnold waved but still gazed his eyes on an empty section of the wall. "Bye." He then turned to Gerald. "You know, I don't hate Harold, but sometimes he gets a little annoying."

Gerald shrugged. "The boy's a slight bit on the handicapped side so you can't be mad at him for trying to talk to us."

"He's an alright kid, but sometimes I'm just not in the mood for it. And he's not retarded; he just has ADD. His dad won't put him on any medication because he doesn't believe in it."

Gerald sipped from a small orange juice box that came with his school lunch. "Well, what are you going to be for Halloween, man? And don't you dare say Ghostbuster, 'cause that idea is mine. You hear me? MINE!"

"Calm down, I'm not going to be a Ghostbuster. I was thinking something along the lines of a vampire. Something simple that I won't have to pay much for."

"Alright, 'cause I already have my mom makin' me a costume. I'm not goin' for any party store costume; I'm talkin' about the real thing. She's gonna sew my name and these Ghostbuster patches my brother had when he was a kid on a jacket to my outfit. It's gonna be awesome, and I don't want nobody takin' my idea."

"Do you really think you're the first person who thought about being a Ghostbuster?"

Gerald lifted his chin up smugly. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"I just want to be something that won't take me long to get into or get out of. And I'm not wearing any make-up. I don't care if I do stick with that vampire idea, I will wear no make-up."

"You're too picky, man."

"Yeah, but it's for a good reason. So, who are you taking to the party?"

"Phoebe, you know that. What about you?" He nudged Arnold with his elbow. "You got some fine little thing comin' with you?"

"Not yet. Hey, did you hear about Lila?"

"Nah, what happened?"

"She had her baby, alright. It had to be put under some machines and stuff in the hospital because it wasn’t breathing right and they wouldn't let her take it home. A week later, it died in the hospital. Lila confined herself to her room since then. Now, she's saying that she's quitting whatever she's been hopped up on and what not, that she'll never do any of it again in her life. So far, she's stayed pretty clean, according to her probation officer."

"Why does she have a probation officer?"

"I don't know, she won't tell me. It's still kind of hard to talk to her though. It's like asking someone who's been in a coma for a few years what it was like during that time."

Across the room at a table alone, Helga stared at the two having their conversation. She scribbled in her notebook a small picture of Arnold with hearts all around it, and then erased it. The page was littered with erase spots similar to the one she had just created.

Helga sighed and thought to herself, There has to be some way to reach him. There has to still be a chance. He can't avoid me forever! I'm in almost every one of his classes!

A person approaching her table then interrupted the train of thought Helga had been so preoccupied with. Helga had not looked up, but a white envelope was dropped on her table. She finally diverted her attention off of her football-headed affection and looked up to see the face of Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. "Hello, Helga. I know we've had our differences and grievances…"

"Are you just gonna sit here talking or is there a point in all this babble?"

Rhonda paused, clenched the tips of her fingers into her palms and started back up. "Helga, I'm sorry of how I've been towards you recently. I wanted to…"

"Do you mean like last week when you put pumpkin guts inside my locker and stained all of my books orange? You know, my locker still smells of squash!"

Rhonda exploded at that moment, "Look, I'm trying to apologize and invite you to my party!"

Helga picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside there was a small white card with a picture of a black cat on it. She opened the card to find printed inside:

"Did you make this on Word because this looks really professional?"

Rhonda snatched the card out of Helga's hands. "I had them made down at Blinko's Copy Service, not that it's any of your business. Accept my invitation or not?"

Helga raised half of her eyebrow and questioned, "Who else is going to this party?"

Rhonda tilted her head back slightly and produced her fingers to help her with the naming process. "Let's see; so far Harold, Patty, Robert…"

"…Park, Phoebe, Gerald, Arnold…"

Helga raised an arm out to stop Rhonda's counting. She then spoke ver quickly, "That's enough, I get the point. So, apology accepted. Sorry for punching you in the nose again after you planned the whole pumpkin thing… and after that detention during the beginning of the school year… and that time I punched you while I was... you know…"

"Are you coming or not?"

"Yes, I'll be there, definitely. Costume party?"

Rhonda pulled the card out again and pointed at the bottom lines, "You can wear a costume but you don't have to. There will be a costume contest though if you do."

"Hmm…" Helga rubbed her chin. "Costume contest… what's the prize?"

"Twenty dollar gift certificate for the record store in town."

Helga shrugged. "Well, that's not too bad. What's that place called again?"

Rhonda just turned around and walked away. "I'll see you at the party."

Helga just waved at her sarcastically. "See ya there, Rhonda." Then the conniving started: I know what I'll do. I'll win that costume contest and… wait; I don't have a plan. Helga slouched back in her chair and thought aloud, "What am I going to do?"

Phoebe then sat next to her. "Hello, Helga."

"Hey, Phoebe. By the way, I'm sorry about that incident a while back."

"Incident?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's not important. Ancient history by now."

***

Miriam stumbled sleepily through the isles of the gags and gifts shops with Helga. "So tell me again, why can't I just make you a costume?"

Helga rolled her eyes back and grunted. "Because, Miriam, if I were to trust you with something like this, no doubt you'll just go and mess it up or never finish making it. True, a homemade costume would be more praiseworthy, but I think I can find a costume here that I should be just fine. What do you think I should be?"

Miriam's eyes blinked and her mouth closed. "What?"

"Hello? I'm actually asking for your opinion and/or advice. What do you think I should be?"

Helga's mother than seemed to be struck with an old memory. "Oh, I remember when you were four years old and we sent you trick-or-treating as a cute, little bunny rabbit. You were just so adorable…"

Helga interrupted her foggy past for the sharp present. "Mom, that was Olga. You have pictures. I've only dressed up for Halloween twice in my whole life. Any other time, I never went trick-or-treating because I didn't have a costume… or I went as the girl who lost her costume right before Halloween…"

Miriam struck back, "No, no; it was Olga's old costume. We put you in it when you were four and you were just so cute! You were just a happy little bunny rabbit!"

That maims…Helga crossed her arms in embarrassment.

Miriam than rushed over to a certain shelf that had just caught her eye for the moment. "Hey, Helga, how about you dress up as an angel? We can get you these big wings and a halo and…"

Miriam had picked up the costume and Helga smacked it out of her hand. "No, mom. No. I am not being an angel."

Miriam quickly shuffled to the other side of the isle. "Ooh, well how about a puppy?" Miriam picked a large box off the top of the shelf that read Hound Dog Costume across it. The picture demonstrating it showed a man in his thirties in a giant brown furry suit, complete with a fuzzy headpiece that had droopy eyes and floppy ears.

"Mom, I'm not going to be a beagle."

Miriam took another look at the box and adjusted her glasses. "I don't know, it looks like a basset to me."

Helga grabbed the box out of her hands and placed it back. "I'm not going to be a dog, mother. I want something more appropriate."

Miriam and Helga then walked over at another section of the store. It carried sewing patterns to make costumes out of scratch. "Helga, could you just let me make you a costume? These factory ones are so expensive!"

Helga smacked her hand across her own forehead. "Okay, Miriam. Halloween is less than a week away. I'm going to trust you in making me a costume, but you better promise that you'll have it done in time. You hear me? Do you think you can have it done Thursday? It's Friday today, do you think you can handle it?"

Miriam just nodded and said, "Uh-huh, yeah, sure. I can do it, Helga, trust me. I was the best student in my sewing class back in High School."

"You had sewing class in High School?"

"Of course I did, didn't you?"

"It's not even offered!"

Miriam flipped through the white paper packages and sighed. "You kids today, you're all deprived of all the things that my generation loved.

Miriam then pulled out a package and stood gaping. "Oh, Helga. How about a witch?"

Helga grabbed the package and looked at it. A full-grown woman daintily held up a wand with a large robe over herself. It was a trademarked Harry Potter costume of Hermione Granger, Harry's little "girl" friend. "Um, mom, this doesn't really count as a witch." She looked at the picture again. "What kind of adult would want to be a little girl from a movie?"

Miriam interrupted, "I thought that was a book."

"Same difference. How would you sew this?" She placed it back. "But the idea of a witch isn't that bad. That would also mean you wouldn't have to sew anything… or at least not much."

Miriam caught her eye on another costume. "Hey, how about Sponge…"

"Nah, I want to be a witch now."

Helga started shifting through the different isles in the small store while Miriam stayed in the pattern department. A rap song was playing lowly over the stereo system but Helga couldn't tell what it was. She knew it had something to do with a deep circle or something. She managed her way to an isle that had exactly what she was looking for. There were three different witch hats: one was a cheap, wire-rimmed had made out of something that felt like nylon; the other was a fuzzy, thick hat that would seem to droop over her head like a bad haircut; and the last hat was wrinkled to form a face similar to the sorting hat of Harry Potter.

She picked up the middle hat. "Looks like it's you and me, droopy." She gripped it tightly and went on to find the rest of her costume.

***