Chapter 6: Buscando Remedio (Looking for help)

"Hi, Rhonda."

Rhonda Wellington Lloyd turned around to see who was addressing her, and was immediately stunned into silence. But only briefly.

"What do you want?" She demanded, clearly put-out by the fact that he had dared interrupt her lecture about the right type of lip gloss for girls with different complexions. The ditsy girls surrounding her were also stunned by his casual approach.

"Can I talk to you? It will only take a se-"

"Thaddeus Gamelthorpe! Do you have any idea how rude you are? I was in the middle of a very important discussion." Rhonda declared with her little nose raised.

Curly almost curled his own nose in disgust at her pompous behavior, but held himself in check. If he was going to get anything from her, he would need to play his cards just right. And he knew exactly how.

"Please, Rhonda? It's very important, and you're the only one in the whole school who can help me." He put on just the right facial expression, making it apparent that he was begging and flattering her, but not that he was obviously putting on an act. "Please?"

Rhonda seemed to consider, and for a moment Curly was afraid she wouldn't take the bait. Then a thin smile graced her perfect lips.

"Alright, but only a moment. My time is precious and I have very little to spare on trivial matters."

And what do you consider all the other things you spend time on, Curly thought, but didn't say.

Rhonda turned back to her loyal followers. "Excuse me one moment, ladies, this won't take long."

She followed Curly a few feet down the hall, away from the other girls.

"Ok, I need your advice on something."

"If it has anything to do with your looks, I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can-"

"No, that's not it. I need to know what girls like."

Rhonda was silent a moment, clearly not understanding the question. "Excuse me?"

"I want to buy something for someone, or...or do something for them. What should I do?"

"Well, that all depends on who the unfortunate young lady, or man, is."

A dark look crossed his face at her little comment, and he almost smacked her, but didn't. He had to keep reminding himself that this was just the way that Rhonda was, and he'd have to keep his cool if he wanted to get any help from her.

"It's for Isabel McKinley."

This time it was Rhonda's turn to look disgusted. "Ugh! That little fashion disaster? Thaddeus, darling, I'm afraid I can't help you on that one."

Once again, Curly had to resist the urge to smack her. How could she be so nasty? And what had ever possessed him to like her for so long?

"Please, Rhonda! I need your help!"

"If you want my advice, buy her some new clothes. New shoes alone would probably do her a world of good." Then she looked Curly up and down. "You two seem to have the same taste in style, I'm sure shopping for her won't be hard." And with that, she walked away.

Curly stood alone in the hallway, both surprised and angry with himself.

Fool! Did you honestly think Miss Princess would have any decent advice for you?

Well, who else was I going to ask! Curly replied to the voice as he turned and stormed off toward the entrance of the school.

It doesn't matter now, what's done is done and you're still where you were ten minutes ago. Time to take action.

No, there's got to be someone else I can ask

It was just as Curly was stepping outside into the sunlight that fate decided to play him a good hand. His eyes immediately landed on a certain football-headed teenager climbing onto a nearby bus.

Of course, Arnold!

But it was too late to catch him now. Curly made a promise to talk to him tomorrow. Surely he would be able to help him.

But isn't Arnold the one who's been staring at her in class all day?

Curly paused at the bottom of the stairs as the thought crossed his mind. Arnold had called to ask about her the other day, but he'd said that he didn't like her, at least not in that way.

He might have been lying, the voice in his head pointed out.

I doubt it. He sounded more like he was just curious about her Curly wished he could be sure that what Arnold had said was true, and he hoped that asking for his advice would reveal whether or not he actually did like Isabel.

The next day at school, Curly shoved the last of his books into his backpack and closed his locker, spinning the lock as he turned and walked down the hall quickly. He hadn't had an opportunity to talk to Arnold all day, and hoped to catch him out on the school grounds before he got on his bus.

As he made his way down the hall, he could see Isabel a few doors down getting some things out of her locker. He paused and watched her a moment, wondering if, as he passed, perhaps he should strike up a conversation with her.

As he was standing there, though,he found himself witnessing one of many incidents that had befallen the strange girl over the past week. One of Ted's nameless buddies was passing by and ran one of his brawny shoulders into her small form, knocking her against the open locker door and to the floor.

The gesture did not shock Curly; it had happened to him more than once. However, as he watched her stumble to the floor without a sound of surprise or objection,he suddenly felt his blood pressure rising. When ever he'd been knocked around, most of the time he'd been asking for it in the first place. But there was nothing Isabel had done in her one week of being here that deserved such treatment.

Curly took a couple steps foreword, intent on rushing the heartless brute and knocking him into the linoleum, but stopped himself. He knew he would probably just get himself shoved into a locker if he tried to avenge Isabel. And not only that, but it might make matters worse for her.

The older boy was disappearing down the hallway, not giving Isabel a second, or even a first, glance. Grateful for this, Curly cleared the distance between himself and the spindly brunette, knowing he wouldn't have to worry about any interference from unwanted company.

"Are you alright?" He asked, reaching down to help her.

"Yeah." She said quietly, holding her shoulder with one hand while trying to pick up a few books with the other.

"I'll get those." Curly said, gathering the items and putting them in her bag.

Isabel stared at him a moment as he did this, and he zipped her bag and stood, helping her up with him.

"Thank you." She said, taking her bag. When she moved her hand from her shoulder, Curly saw the tiny red spot on her grey shirt, just above her right collar bone.

"You're bleeding!" He said, his brows drawing inward in sudden concern. Isabel looked down at the slowly growing mark.

"I'll be ok." She said in the same quiet voice she always used.

"Want me to take you to the nurse?" He hoped she'd say yes, but she only shook her head.

"Well, here, let me give you a band-aid, at least..." He said, digging into multiple pockets in his backpack, searching for the band-aids he always kept on hand for his numerous 'trips and falls'.

Isabel made no objection as he dug around in his bag, at last pulling out a rumpled looking band-aid, which he handed to her. She put her bag down and opened the band-aid, but couldn't quite get it on.

"Here, let me-" But when he took a step toward her, she pulled back quickly with a wide-eyed look, and Curly realized right away what he'd done.

What a place to get a nasty cut, he thought, stupid, stupid...

Isabel succeeded in applying the band-aid and Curly walked to the entrance with her.

"Do they bother you a lot?" He finally asked.

"Kind of." She said, clutching the strap of her backpack securely.

"Any idea why?"

She was quiet a moment as they reached the sidewalk. "Because they can, I guess." She paused a moment, as if she expected him to walk away now, but he didn't.

"Well, that's no reason, if you ask me." He said, pausing with her and clearly unaware of her expectance. So she kept walking, Curly walking beside her. They were both silent for a long while, and it didn't matter when they passed Curly's street. For some reason, he was curious to see where she lived.

"So, you've met Arnold, right?" He asked. He didn't really want to talk about Arnold, but he didn't know what else to ask her. She only nodded.

"He's a good guy, pretty popular with everybody at school."

And then there was another long silence as they walked, and Curly's mind decided to butt in.

Ask her out.

No!

What are you, chicken? Just ask her, couldn't hurt any.

I don't want to scare her away

You won't scare her! The worst thing she could do is say no. Come on, you pansy.

They were stopping outside a brick apartment building, and Curly knew that if he was going to act, he needed to do it now.

"Uh, Isabel?"

She looked at him questioningly, almost nervously, as if she knew what he was about to ask. He summed up all his courage before speaking, trying to make extra sure that he didn't stutter.

Ugh, what's wrong with me? I never stutter when I ask a girl out!

"Listen, would you like to...uh, that is, you wanna grab a milkshake or something sometime? It's Friday, we don't have to worry about homework until Sunday night." He said, cracking a little smile as if he'd just made a joke. If he hadn't known any better, he could have sworn that Isabel had smiled a little. But just a little.

Then a very sad look crossed her face. "I'm sorry, I can't."

Stay calm, stay calm, he thought, trying not to look too disappointed.

"Oh, ok. Maybe some other time then." He said, attempting to sound casual but knowing that he was failing. "Bye." He turned to go, and Isabel climbed the first three steps of the building's entrance before turning and watching the boy walk down the sidewalk.

Her expression now held a mixture of sadness and curiosity. And perhaps just a hint of longing.