Chapter 1: Return of the Queen
Chapter Text
Helga Geraldine Pataki was a brusque girl of sixteen with long blonde hair and heavy black eyebrows. She was prone to wearing pink tank tops under dark sweatshirts, and had, on occasion, been known to wear a silk ribbon in her hair and light pink eyeshadow. She had an affinity for fights at arcades and fluffy kittens, and her favorite pastime was watching bad reality TV (her current favorites were reruns of The Bachelorette and Hell's Kitchen ). Her fellow high schoolers from East Side High generally paid her little attention, so as she sat in the very back of school bus #12 on a stiff leather seat, few people paid her any heed. She stared out the window with her arms crossed, watching the shiny chrome buildings of East Hillwood turn into the old brick and graffiti covered buildings of the southwest side of town. Absently she listened to Teri and Lenny, her two friends who sat in the seat in front of her.
Lenny was currently saying, "I swear by the Jackie Robinson collectors edition card that I carry it's true.” He was a six-foot-five boy with knobby knees, shaggy brown hair that covered his eyes, and one foot that was two sizes bigger than the other. A worn red lanyard with a laminated baseball card hung around his neck.
"You're bullshittin' me, dude," replied Teri, and when he shook his head his baby cheeks jiggled. Teri was a hefty dark skinned boy with piercing eyes and a shaved head. He took up two-thirds of the bus seat, forcing Lenny against the window. That didn’t stop Lenny from crossing his ankle over his knee, his bigger foot bouncing in the air. They had shared a seat every since the seventh grade, as long as Helga had known them.
"There's no way they do that,” Teri continued.
"Y'see, that's what I said! Until Big Jimmy saw their soccer captain crawlin' around the sidelines, lookin' for 'em." Lenny wiggled his fingers like long, bony worms.
Teri narrowed his eyes at his friend before swiveling around to look at Helga. "Pataki, he's full of it. Tell me he's full of it."
Helga replied dryly, "You know it, Theresa."
Teri smacked Lenny upside the head with a wide hand. "Man, you have a problem. Why're you tryin' to convince me they eat maggots anyway? You're disgusting."
Lenny snickered. "You should'a seen your face, dude."
"Shaddup, stupid, before I make you eat bugs."
Lenny patted his stomach. "Gladly, my friend. A little bit of protein is just what a growing boy needs. Maybe on a sandwich with some avocado and fritos."
Teri made a face. "Nuh-uh, there's no way I'd let you ruin avocados like that."
"You vegetarian nut job."
Helga glanced at her two friends before shaking her head and sighing. At her sigh, the girl next to Helga asked, “Are you all right, Helga?”
Helga turned to the white haired, pink eyed girl beside her. Agatha was so thin she could practically slip between the cracks of the bus seat. She blinked her round eyes at Helga slowly.
"What, me? Yeah, I'm cool. Just...thinkin',” Helga said.
"Well, you've been a bit...twitchy lately. Are you worried about the new school?"
"Naaah, I'm not worried. Why should I be worried? We'll take their school by storm." Helga said with a haughty scoff. Agatha only stared back. "C'mon, Aggie, quit it. I'm cool, no worries."
"Alright." Then the wisp of a girl sat back and stared down the long isle in front of her, unblinking.
Helga leaned her head against the window. Outside, the buildings were becoming more familiar. In the back of her mind, old memories swirled in circles. She was fine. It was a long time ago. She was grown up now. Mature. Different. She was fine.
Arnold Shortman was a man of simplicity. In the mornings he ran a hand through his disheveled blond hair, pulled on the closest shirt that smelled relatively clean, threw his books under an arm, and was out the door with a banana by 7:15AM. He walked to the end of his childhood street and stood underneath the bus stop sign, watching passersby and being generally well-contented with life. On this particular day, he had an extra ounce of contentment and ate his banana with a jazzy hum.
The yellow bus rolled up at 7:20AM exactly. Arnold made his way through school bus #13 (which had previously been #18, but half the 8 was flaking off) just in time for his best friend, Gerald, to lunge from his seat and grab Arnold by the front of the shirt.
"Hey, man, I just realized something!" Gerald exclaimed.
Arnold looked back with wide eyes, trying not to fall over as the bus lurched forward. Gerald stood over him by a good four inches, his expression wild. Arnold had finally caught up to Gerald's height in the eighth grade, but his victory hadn’t lasted. Now in Sophomore year, it seemed Gerald had finally stopped growing at six-foot-one. His black coily hair had been cut off in a perfect flat-top with faded steps above his ears, and he obnoxiously knew his hair gave him an extra two inches of height over Arnold.
"Isn't East Side High that school that Helga went to?" Gerald demanded.
"Yeah," Arnold answered.
"D'ya think maybe she's comin'?"
Arnold pushed his friend onto the bus seat and sat beside him. "She is coming."
Gerald’s expression remained intense. "How do you know? Did she already call and pre-threaten you? You know, in a I'm baaaaaaaaaack! sort of a way?"
Arnold chuckled. "No, of course not. If you were paying any attention to what me and Phoebe were talking about yesterday, you'd know, too."
“What, of course I pay attention to Phoebe.”
“I mean pay attention to what she’s saying, not her mouth while she’s saying it.”
Gerald punched Arnold on the shoulder, who rubbed his arm with a smirk. Gerald tsked and slumped back, jamming his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. It was a black and red sweatshirt. Gerald always wore some kind of red, swearing it was his lucky color, and before basketball season started, he exclusively wore his Hillwood High Hedgehogs red and black sweatshirt.
"How come we didn't think of it before?" Gerald asked, ignoring Arnold’s glib remark about Phoebe.
"Because we were too busy gloating about the East Side basketball team being split up," Arnold said.
"Oh, yeah, good thing, too, huh? I mean, I wanted to play them in the playoffs in November, 'cause seriously, you know we could have slaughtered them this time. Ah, well. I mean, they have held the title for ten years, but honestly, it's about time their reign ended. And what better way than for their school to end? Fine by me." Gerlad straightened suddenly. "But, hey, that's not the point! I can’t believe Helga Pataki's coming back!"
"What’d you say?" Sid cried from across the aisle. Arnold wondered if Sid’s mother harped on him about his hair at all—the boy’s gray brown hair was hanging past his chin these days, and he seemed not to mind it being too thin not to be oily, even when it was clean. Sid’s knees in their torn jeans bounced with a tightly-wound energy. Some kind of undiagnosed ADHD, Arnold suspected.
Arnold had known Sid since he was four years old—in fact, he had known nearly everyone on the #13 school bus as long as he could remember. Especially all the Sophomores, who had been in his classes for more than a decade. They were as familiar to him as the halls of his own home.
"What do you mean, Helga Pataki's coming back to the neighborhood?" Sid asked, his loud voice carrying.
Another long-time classmate, Stinky, was sitting in the seat behind Sid, sandwiched between two Freshmen girls. At six-foot-seven, Stinky had annoyingly outgrown all of them, and Arnold wasn’t sure he was finished. He leaned his long face forward and slapped his long leg at the news. "Well, how d'ya like that? Helga's comin' back?"
"Who's Helga?" one of the Freshman girls asked Stinky with a bat of the eyelashes.
"Well, if she isn't the old elementary school bully, I dunno what she is," Stinky replied in his thick southern drawl. His accent was thicker when he talked to girls, Arnold had noticed.
A few rows up, Harold hollered, "Oi, I resent that! I've mended my ways, thank you."
"We're not talkin' about you, Harold," Gerald said dryly.
"Yeah, we're talkin' about Helga Pataki," Sid said.
At that Harold put his elbow on the seat and turned around, his biceps as big as his head, a bulldogish, lopsided frown on his face. His girlfriend, Rhonda, popped her head over his arm. She said, "Helga Pataki, tyrannical queen of the playground? Wow, we haven't seen her in ages. Not since summer after fifth grade, I believe. What about Helga Pataki?"
"Apparently she's comin' back to the ol' homestead," Stinky informed. He draped his arms over the back of the seat, behind the two girls, his hands hanging over the sides.
"Well, well. She's moving back?" Rhonda raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "I thought her family's business made the big times, that's why they moved to the other side of town."
"She's not moving back," Gerald corrected, "she's comin' with the kids from East Side High."
"Boy howdy, she's an East Sider!" Sid said. "How come I didn't know that?"
"Because you don't know anything, Sid." Rhonda put her nose in the air.
"I know some stuffs, prissy miss!" Sid snapped back.
Harold pointed a meaty finger at Sid. "Hey, watch out who's girlfriend you're talkin' to, or I'll slaughter ya!"
Sid snorted. "Mended your ways my ass..."
"What'd you say?" Harold barked.
"Nothing!"
Gerald looked at Arnold, who had been silently watching. "How do you feel about all this, Arnold?"
"Me?" Arnold said, startled when everyone turned to him. "Why me?"
"Let's think, Arnold," Rhonda said with an annoyed look and began counting on her red-nailed fingers. "She terrorized you, called you names, stole your stuff, hit you, made fun of you, sabotaged all your relationships, yelled at you on a daily basis, and publicly confessed her undying loathing for you regularly. Need I go on?"
"But that was all a long time ago," Arnold said. "And besides, we left as friends. Sort of. Don't you guys think she's probably changed?"
They looked around at each other before a chorus of, "Nope", "Uh-uh", "Doubt it", "That's a negative, my friend" bounced around.
Arnold continued, "Well, it's not like we have a choice, anyway. I mean, their school burned down. They don't have anywhere else to go."
Gerald shrugged. "For all we know, she's the one who burned it down." This was agreed to by some nods.
Arnold shrugged back and said noncommittally, "Yeah, maybe. Maybe she hates the East High Eagles basketball team as much as we do."
"I hear that." Gerald high-fived him. "If that's true, remind me to throw a party for her."
"We'll invite the rest of the team. They’d love to meet the girl who destroyed their biggest rivals."
"Them boys’ll be in over their heads—she’s ‘bout as friendly as a cactus," Stinky said.
"And just as cuddly,” Sid added with a shudder.
Arnold sat back as the rest of the ride to school was occupied by conversations about the tough little girl they had known years ago. They debated whether or not Helga could have taken over East Side as the queen bee, what kind of psycho killers must be friends with her now, and what poor souls' lives she must have ruined.
As they were pulling up to school, Rhonda finally said what had no-doubt been occupying her mind the entire time, "What I really want to know is whether or not she's finally plucked that hideous unibrow."
Phoebe Heyerdahl was a small spectacled girl of Japanese-American descent, who had recently taken to putting all her hair on top of her head in a messy bun and wearing long socks, plaid skirts, and vintage jewelry. She was a usual rider of bus #13, but today Arnold saw her waiting by the gate when the bus pulled up, a clipboard in her hand and a sticker on her sweater that said, "Hello, My Name is PHOEBE". When Gerald saw her, he jumped down the final steps of the bus and headed toward her. Arnold followed behind him.
"Hey, there you are!” Gerald said. “Miss Responsible had to be here early for our refugees, huh?”
"I had to finish the tour schedule so all us tour guides don’t run into each other," Phoebe replied, gesturing to several other students with name tags and clipboards waiting by the gate.
"Overachiever." Gerald glanced around. "But where are they? Get lost already?"
"I suppose they've been delayed.” Phoebe adjusted her glasses, then immediately did it again. A nervous tick she’d always had.
Arnold said helpfully, "There's construction on the freeway, so maybe they got stuck in traffic."
"I'm sure you're quite right." Phoebe smiled her quiet smile at him.
"Soooo..." Gerald scratched what he was trying to pass off as a five-o'clock shadow on his chin. "Helga's really coming, then?"
Phoebe’s whole expression brightened at the mention of her childhood friend. "Isn't it exciting? It'll be just like old times, won't it?"
"Yeah, I LOVE old times." Gerald elbowed Arnold with a knowing look. Then he said to Phoebe, "How come you only just told us yesterday, though?"
She adjusted her teal rimmed glasses at him. "Hmm? What do you mean? I told you as soon as I found out, three days ago.”
Gerald looked dumbfounded. "Wha, three days ago?"
"Don't you remember?"
Gerald shot Arnold a dark look. Arnold only pretended to look innocent. “Weren’t you listening, Gerald? Were you distracted by something?”
Gerald shot him a dark look before smiling down at Phoebe. "Yeah, of course I remember. I meant, I just can't believe she’s coming home at last!"
"Right? Aren't you excited to see Helga?" Phoebe asked.
"Pfft, of course! Been looking forward to it!"
Arnold rolled his eyes.
"I know!" Phoebe said excitedly. "Perhaps we could all meet up for lunch! Wouldn't that be nice?"
Gerald snapped his fingers. "Hey, yeah, that's a great idea! Don't you think that's a great idea, Arnold?"
“Oh, yeah,” Arnold said. “And, just 'cause I know you missed Helga so much, I'll let you sit by her. The whole time."
Phoebe sighed sweetly, "Aww! I didn’t know you missed her so much, Gerald!"
Gerald said through gritted teeth, "Thanks, man, what a...pal."
"Anything for you, bud," Arnold replied.
A bell (more of a buzzer that was on its last legs and was mostly static now) chimed from inside the school and the last stragglers wandered toward the building. Gerald and Arnold said goodbye to Phoebe and left her to await the transfer students. Arnold threw an arm around his friend's shoulder as they entered the school.
"Gerald," Arnold began. "I believe I'm correct in saying that you are completely smitten."
"I dunno know what you’re talking about," Gerald said.
"You know what I'm talking about." Arnold poked him in the chest. "Someone's officially caught the love bug for a certain be-speckled cutie. Again. It's been a while."
Gerald shrugged Arnold's arm off. "Man, shut up."
"Just sayin'. Ever since she broke up with R.J. White last spring, you've been alternating between awkwardly friendly and Mr. Suave."
"R.J. White," Gerald grumbled at the mention of Phoebe's ex-boyfriend. "Man, I hate that guy. Short little uptight know-it-all, and seriously, who does he think he is, wearing those little bow ties like he's some kind of genius? He knows he just looks stupid. Stupid."
"I seem to remember you liking him just fine before—"
Gerald cut him off, "Nut-uh, don't you go there, I never liked that jerk!"
"Sure, Gerald. Whatever you say. Smitten."
"Shut up."
The pair of them made their way through Hillwood High School, casually dodging flying paper airplanes and stepping over textbooks that had been scattered on the ground. They climbed the stairs to the second floor, ignoring a couple who was making out in the stairwell and three Freshmen who were sliding down the bannisters. They reached their first period class, where kids were sitting on desks, and the teacher had fallen asleep at her own desk, as she did most mornings. Arnold sat behind Gerald, right next to the row of windows that looked over the front of the school. He still saw no sign of any new school buses.
The bell rang again and most of the kids got into their seats as the teacher sat up and readjusted her glasses. She taught physics, a subject that really couldn't have been more boring until she made it so. She was deaf in one ear and rarely looked back from the whiteboard, so after roll was called most students who wanted to continue certain conversations or generally slack off were at perfect liberty to do so.
"So you're going to ask her out this time, right? Like officially, not like sixth grader dating like last time. How are you going to do it?" Arnold asked in a low voice.
Gerald glanced over his shoulder at him. "What do you mean? Is there more than one way?"
"Well, yeah. Are you gonna do something romantic or are you just gonna ask her?"
"Something romantic?" Gerald's voice cracked. "Is she expecting something romantic? What's wrong with just asking her? Is that not good enough? Oh, man, I don't need this extra pressure." He rubbed his forehead.
Arnold was chuckling at Gerald's torment when a movement out the window caught his eye. Three big yellow buses pulled up to the curb in front of the school gates. Shiny bright buses, newer than Hillwood High’s crappy old ones.
The girl behind Arnold gasped and said, "Look! The East Siders are here!"
A murmur rose around the students as they gathered by the windows. The bus doors opened and a steady stream of high school students filed out. Arnold saw Phoebe and the other tour guides rally the newcomers up into little groups. The flow of students slowed and the first two buses ran out of kids to expel. The second one spat out its last two boys, one almost as tall as Stinky and the other hefty with a shiny black head. Then a pale girl with hair that glowed white in the sun hesitantly stepped onto the sidewalk, and just when Arnold was about to be very confused, a final student stepped out. A tall girl with a gray sweatshirt and long blonde hair hanging straight down her back stepped off the bus. Seven years. He hadn’t seen her in seven years. Yet even from this distance, she was unmistakable.
"Man, I don't see her anywhere," Gerald said.
"What? Dude, she's right there," Arnold said.
"Where?"
"There! She's the one hugging your girlfriend."
"Phoebe's not my—ah! That's her!"
The teacher, who had finally realized that the entire class had stood up in order to get a look at the East Side High schoolers, snapped, "Back in your seats, all of you! Pay attention!"
The room quieted to the gentle whispering of curious students as the teacher resumed her lecture.
Gerald shook his head in wonder and said, "Man, look at that hair. I don't think I ever saw it not in pigtails. Maybe you're right, Arnold. Maybe she has changed."
The groups of East Siders began entering the school. Phoebe led her group in last, Helga’s blonde head trailing along at the back until she passed from Arnold’s view.
Arnold turned back to the classroom with a half smile. "Yeah,” he said. “Maybe."
The East Side High schoolers were considerably underwhelmed by their new school. East Side High was in a more affluent part of the city, built between high rise apartments and a park. Hillwood High was part of the old part of town, and it showed. The lockers were covered in sharpie and stickers, the floors had spots that were suspiciously sticky, and the sturdiness of the ceiling was seriously questionable. The unwilling transfer students followed their tour guides, and by their faces the school was nothing but grubby and dingy. For Helga, it had a strange feeling of homeyness to it. It reminded her of her elementary school, good old P.S. 118.
Helga had been so lucky as to end up with her oldest friend, Phoebe, as a guide, but she had been separated from Agatha and Teri in the process. Lenny, thankfully, was in her group, loping along beside her with an off-tune whistle.
"This is the copy center," Phoebe was saying to the group as they paused outside it. Helga stopped paying attention after the first five seconds and moved on to thinking of more important things.
Currently, she was agitated. She was less careful about hiding it now that Agatha wasn't nearby to watch her all-seeing pink eyes, or soft hearted Teri. Luckily, Lenny rarely knew what was going on around him. With Phoebe also busy, Helga was thus free to reflect on her own
It felt like ages ago that Helga had been in this part of town, and somehow it also felt like only a short time ago. The last time had been in southwest Hillwood had been a year ago, when her family had picked up Phoebe on their way to a beach vacation. Helga had always been grateful that Phoebe had kept in touch with her, and had loved to hear stories from her about what was going on with all her old school mates. She never said so, but she always hoped Phoebe’s stories might include Arnold.
Arnold, Arnold, Arnold.
Helga sighed and rolled her eyes at herself.
It had been a long time since Helga had been...well, head-over-heels for the football head. The last time she had seen him in person she had been twelve—four years ago, when she was visiting Phoebe for a day during summer vacation. Per Phoebe's suggestion, they had walked down to the baseball field to say hello to the old gang. When they had arrived, Helga and Phoebe had stopped by the fence and watched Arnold slide into home plate before being hugged and slapped and cheered. Phoebe had asked Helga if she wanted to go say hi, but Helga had shaken her head. They had left.
That was it. She had seen them, seen him , but then...she wasn't a part of them anymore. She didn't belong there in their world; she was nothing but the memory of the old elementary school bully, someone they hadn't quite befriended before she had left. They were probably happy she was gone. He probably was. No one but Phoebe had called or sent letters to her new house, and eventually Phoebe had said they stopped asking about her. That he had stopped asking. He had moved on.
Helga had removed the locket with his picture from around her neck and put it in the shrine in the back of her closet. The shrine was smaller than it had been—she’d had to artfully dispose of most of it before her family moved so her parents wouldn't see it. The small picture frame and candles had sat dark and dusty for the last four years. Until last week, when Helga had learned that she would be going to the same school as him again. That day she had opened her closet, pushed aside her clothes, and looked at the relics. Then shut the door.
For years, she had waited for the day she would have to hear about him getting a girlfriend, someone perfect and pretty and sweet. She had wondered if Phoebe hadn't mentioned anything to spare her feelings, but, well, now Helga was here.
Guess I'll find out first hand, she thought as Phoebe led them past the dimly lit library.
The thought made Helga shutter, and then she mentally kicked herself.
Time and distance had helped ebb the obsession. Moving across town and switching schools had given Helga a fresh start, and she had discarded the old Helga Geraldine Pataki for a new skin. She could never forget Arnold or his sweetness, especially when her younger self had needed to look up to someone like that. But now she had friends and new tennis shoes and a mean penchant for writing victorian poetry and a pretty good left handed lay-up. She might be able to face him and his cute genius model girlfriend with a cool head except...well, it was nerve wracking. What would he think of her now? She wanted to show him, to show all of them, that she was better than they thought she was. She wasn’t the one-browed violent kid they avoided anymore— Ha, I've done just fine without you. In your faces.
Helga jumped when someone bumped her arm. She looked up at Carlos Moze, the tall, dark and handsome East Side High basketball captain.
"You all right, Helga?" he asked.
She snorted. "Sure thing, el Capitano."
Lenny had noticed Moze as well. "Yo, Captain. How's it goin'?"
Moze shrugged. "Cool, I guess. At least the school's not on fire."
" Tch, yeah, no kidding," Helga said. "Although maybe someone should set fire to it, if you ask me. It's a biohazard in here."
Moze laughed. "Yeah, maybe."
"I dunno, guys," Lenny said. "Looks like good maggot breeding ground to me."
"Maggots?" Moze asked.
Helga raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, Len. You're back on that?"
"When in Rome, right?" Lenny replied.
"Romans don't eat maggots, Len."
"Why would anyone?" Moze asked, perplexed. He was distracted from an answer as Phoebe pointed out the gym as they passed. The group moved on, but Moze stopped in the open doorway and spread his arms. "Lady and gentleman, I present to you our new home!"
Helga poked her head inside the gym, Lenny leaning over her head.
"Woot!" Lenny said to hear it echo. "Can't wait to burn some rubber."
"Lacquered floors, hoops, no obvious rot...I guess it'll do," Helga said lightly.
"I'm sure the janitor is honored by such praise, madam." Moze tilted his head toward her. "But not nearly as honored as the mighty Hillwood High Hedgehogs basketball team will be to have us join."
"Oh, yeah," Helga snickered. "I bet they're wetting their pants they're so excited to get players from East Side. Some actually winning potential. This whole integration thing probably has 'em riled up like a bunch of little girls."
The three hung at the back of the group and talked about basketball and the rest of the team. Since East Side High had burned down three weeks ago, the students had been divided up and sent to schools that could accommodate them. The majority of the team had ended up going to Dixie High up north, joining the team of the Lions. Only the Varsity Team Captain, Moze, along with Lenny, Teri, and Helga, had ended up as Hedgehogs.
Phoebe's tour and orientation ended at ten minutes to noon, when she dismissed them for lunch. As the crowd dispersed, Phoebe turned a big smile to Helga and Lenny.
"Hey, Phebes, great guide you are," Helga said, tapping a fist lightly on Phoebe's shoulder.
"Oh, thanks. Listen, um, I was wondering if you'd like to join us for lunch?" Phoebe asked.
Helga paused. "Who is 'us?'"
"Me, Gerald, and Arnold. Oh, and your friends are welcome, too, of course!"
"Uhhh...you know, I'd love to, but I think we—we definitely have plans. You know, gotta wander the school, get used to it and all. Heh."
"Oh, would you like us to go with you? I'm sure we could—"
"NO!" Helga toned it down when she saw the shock on Phoebe's face. "No, uh, we'd just, you know, like some time to...get...adjusted. Yep. Really, Phebes, go on ahead. Next time, ok?"
"All right, Helga..." Phoebe hesitantly stepped away, and Helga smiled and waved every time she turned back to look at her.
As soon as Phoebe disappeared behind a corner, Helga rounded on the nearest locker and smacked her forehead into it. Several times. Damn, Pataki, just be cool! You're freaking out for no reason, no one else cares this much...
"Excuse me, that's my locker..." said a kid.
Helga looked down at the Freshman darkly. "Come back later, kid."
He left. Quickly.
She rammed her head into the locker again.
"Whenever you're done, Pataki," Lenny said, inspecting his fingernails, "I'm hungry for some spaghetti and maggot-balls."
The cafeteria did not serve spaghetti and maggot-balls, much to Lenny's disappointment. They did, however, serve some very interesting smelling tuna fish sandwiches and raisin "pudding.” Helga and her friends ate outside by the blacktop, where groups of people were sitting around on lunch tables or skateboarding back and forth, and various sports were being played.
Helga sat in between Agatha and Teri and picked at her tuna sandwich. She watched the students around them. Most of them she didn't recognize at all, but when she saw someone she used to go to school with, she would elbow Teri and Agatha (who would say, "Helga, you know I bruise easy,") and point them out. Nadine passed by, and Helga almost didn't recognize her since her kinky hair had been let down and straightened. Stinky she finally noticed playing basketball on the court with some other guys, and to Helga's amusement a gaggle of girls cheered and called out his name whenever he got the ball. Chocolate Boy (had she ever known his real name?) was sitting in the shade, eating a radish salad and reading a very heavy textbook.
A rather attractive guy wearing expensive clothes passed by, his black hair swooped back in a fifties style, hand in hand with a cute dark haired girl. When he saw Helga he stopped dead, and said, "Hey, Helga, long time no see." It took him another ten minutes to convince her he was Curly.
Helga gawked. " Curly ? The creepy little dipwad who used to stalk Rhonda? No way that's you! You're a babe!"
"Well, thanks, Helga," Curly said, and his girlfriend agreed. With her mind slightly blown, Helga left her friends to toss her tray in the trash and process the transformation of her old schoolmates.
"Helga Pataki, is that you ?"
Helga turned to find a girl with blonde-streaked black hair, thick make-up, and a red sundress walking up to her.
"It is you! Well, my goodness, aren't we just so grown up?" The girl eyed her up and down, and the deja vu of it made Helga realize who she was.
"Rhonda!" Helga exclaimed.
Rhonda winked at her. "One and the fabulous same. So, tell me, Helga, how are you?"
"Uh, can't complain, I guess." She fingered her old sweatshirt self-consciously as Rhonda, with her lip liner and cute platform shoes, smiled up at her.
"I'm so glad," Rhonda gushed before she turned and called to a boy nearby. "Harold! Harold, come here, come say hello to Helga!" He didn't turn around. "Harold!" Rhonda barked.
The guy turned, hiked his pants up, and sauntered over to them. "What is it?" he said in a deep voice.
Helga stared at his 5 o'clock shadow (and it was only 12:25PM) and well toned biceps as he slung an arm around Rhonda.
Rhonda said, "Harold, look, it's Helga Pataki."
"Helga?" Harold raised his eyebrows. "Whoa, didn't even recognize you. What happened to your caterpillar brow, caterpillar brow?" Rhonda smacked his arm playfully.
Helga's eye twitched, but upon realizing he was completely sincere, she reminded herself that Harold was an idiot, who had always been an idiot, and would probably always be an idiot.
“I heard you play ball with the guys, Pataki,” Harold said. He looked her up and down the same way Rhonda had. “You any good?”
“Guess you’ll find out, won’t you?” Helga replied.
Helga jumped when Rhonda suddenly gasped and grabbed her arm. "Oh, Helga you must, you simply must, let us show you around! I am certain that I can introduce you to all the most important people in school."
"No thanks, Rhonda, I've already had a tour." Meeting any of Rhonda's preppy friends sounded like the extra tooth-extraction Helga didn’t need today.
"No, no, no! This will be a completely different tour…are they with you?" Rhonda’s nose crinkled as Teri, Lenny, and Agatha walked over. Helga prepared to give the rich girl a good shake up if she sneered at any of her friends, but all she said was, "Hello! My name is Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, Hillwood High’s lady extraordinaire. And this is my boyfriend, Harold Berman. How do you do?" She offered Teri her hand.
Teri took her hand reluctantly, giving it an awkward shake. “How’s it going? "Name's Teri. This is Lenny and Agatha. You old friends of Helga's?"
"We most certainly are! Very old friends! And we were just about to show her the real Hillwood High. Of course you must all come as well."
Teri looked at Agatha, who stared at Rhonda; Lenny, who was admiring the limited edition, signed Jackie Robinson card that he kept in a laminated pouch hanging around his neck; and Helga, who shook her head emphatically. Teri shrugged and said, "Sure, we'll come."
Helga pinched Teri in the arm and was satisfied to hear an, "Ow! What?"
"Wonderful!" Rhonda said. Horrifically, she looped her arm through Helga’s and dragged her back into the school.
Rhonda made good on her promise of a completely different tour. They went down all the same hallways, but as they went, Rhonda stopped and introduced Helga to every well dressed, rich looking snob and pointed out the “proper” hang out areas. It all made Helga very uncomfortable. But then, she’d been uncomfortable all day already.
Her interested piqued somewhat when they ran into a familiar curly haired, red headed kid who was being followed by some thespian girls in berets and tights.
"Eugene!" Rhonda called and the cute, tall boy approached.
"Oh, hey, Rhonda," he said.
"Eugene, you remember Helga Pataki. Helga, Eugene Horrowitz is now one of the most popular boys in school and he's only a Sophomore. He's the lead in all the school plays and sings like an angel. Do you remember the, 'Don't sweat it, you'll regret it, try natural musk scent' commercials?" Rhonda gestured to Eugene proudly, as if all his fame were due to her.
Eugene blinked, taking Helga in. "Do my eyes deceive me? Helga Pataki, in the flesh. Long time no see!"
"Same." Helga smiled at him, hands in her pockets. "I saw your commercial—it's pretty good. Well, for an odor advertisement. Way to be."
Eugene smiled. "Well, thanks, Helga."
"Sure." She didn't say more, because just then one of his thespian lackeys glared at her.
The girl touched Eugene's arm and said in a deep, dramatic voice, "Eugene, dahling, you promised to perform Hamlet's soliloquy for the underclassmen before lunch was over."
"Indeed, I did, Roxanne. Well, Helga, good seeing you again. Drop by the drama department anytime, I’ll give you a good show for old time’s sake." And then Eugene whisked away, singing "Goodnight, goodnight!" the beatnik girls on his trail.
"Criminy. Everyone's so different or grown up or somethin'," Helga said as they stopped a little ways from a drinking fountain for Agatha. Agatha could drink like a fish, so currently Harold, Teri, and Lenny were leaning against a wall, saying, "S'up, dude," to anyone Harold knew. Rhonda and Helga stood a little further away.
"Oh, I don't think we've changed that much," Rhonda said, inspecting her manicure. Helga thought she was just pretending to not notice the people checking out her legs as they passed in the hall. The same people gave Helga an odd look. Helga looked back coolly until they broke eye contact.
Rhonda continued, "You've changed a lot, though. I thought it was wonderful what you said to Eugene, about his commercial."
Helga shrugged. "I was just being nice."
"Exactly."
Well. Rhonda thought she was nice. Helga felt her chest puff up. Ha, that's right, Helga Pataki is a damn good person. Who's the queen? That's right, it's me. Bet you didn't see that one coming, suckers.
I wonder if Arnold will think—
No you don't, shut the hell up.
Right.
Agatha finished her drink and returned to hovering behind Helga like a white shadow. Rhonda, taking real notice of the little albino, flashed her teeth at her. "So, Agatha, how long have you and Helga been friends?"
In her breathy voice Agatha replied, "About three years."
"Really? How'd you guys meet? Did Helga steal your lunch money?"
"Hey!" Helga said indignantly.
Agatha blinked. "What? No, Helga would never do something like that. She's the kindest person I know."
Oh, Aggie, bless your little heart! Helga thought fondly.
"I used to get picked on a lot by the boys at our school. When Helga came, she gave one of them a bloody nose and told them to leave me alone or she'd bury them alive."
"Erk! Eh heh..." Spoke too soon.
" They didn't bother me anymore after that." Agatha gave Helga a wide smile.
Rhonda patted Agatha on the head, like she was a small animal. An instinct many people had with Agatha, Helga had found. "Well, aren’t you cute?" Rhonda said.
Helga smiled at her tiny friend. Helga had befriended her by accident—she'd only gotten mad when those guys were picking on her—but Agatha had followed her around ever since, and Helga hadn't minded.
The buzzer went off to signal the end of lunch, and Rhonda said, "You East Siders are supposed to attend classes the second half of the day, right? I'm sure no one would be more fit to help you find your classrooms than moi ."
"Yeah, ok. Wait...ahhhhh...shoot," Helga said.
"What's wrong?" Rhonda asked.
Agatha turned her wide eyes to Helga. "You forgot your schedule, didn't you? I saw you didn't pick it up at the front office. I’ll go get it.”
She started walking off, but Helga caught her by the back of the shirt like a kitten.
"Don’t be ridiculous, Aggs, the boys and I will go with you," Helga said.
"Don’t be silly, you can’t all be late to your first class! Helga, leave it to Miss Lloyd, I’ll get your friends to class." Rhonda put an arm around Agatha, taking her right out of Helga’s grasp, and steered her in the other direction.
“Uh, wait, Aggie, don’t leave—” Helga said, but Rhonda took the small girl away before she could stop her
Rhonda passed Harold, who was making Teri and Lenny laugh. "Hey, you lugs, the bell rang," Rhonda called to them. “Come along, I’ll get you to class.”
"Gracias, Ms. Lloyd," Lenny said.
Harold turned back to salute Helga and say, " Caio , Pataki."
Helga scoffed. He had clearly been dating Rhonda for too long.
"See ya after school, Helgs,” Teri said over his shoulder. He and Lenny followed after Agatha, who looked panicked in Rhonda’s arms. Helga gaped as her friends left her standing in the hall alone.
Students began swarming back inside from lunch, and Helga flinched, suddenly on the alert. She didn’t have two towering boys or a loyal shadow to support her any more.
She huffed and set off confidently in the direction she remembered Phoebe pointing out the front offices. The halls slowly emptied of students as she walked. It had been a decent day, so far. She had successfully avoided Arnold, although she wasn't entirely sure why she was trying to. Well, soon she'd see him and then she could stop worrying and get on with life. It was no big deal.
No big deal.
She rounded a corner to where the office was, and stopped halfway down the hall. There was no office, only more lockers. "Ah, crap. Now I'm lost."
Arnold made his way downstairs from the library, where he had disappeared to at the beginning of lunch. Phoebe had met up with him and Gerald outside the cafeteria, apologizing that Helga was otherwise engaged. Arnold had, rather slyly he thought, then told Phoebe that he had some homework to catch up on, and insisted she eat with Gerald without him. Gerald owed him.
And Arnold told him so, as soon as he saw him again.
"Yeah, yeah," Gerald said as he met him in the hall. "Thanks."
"So, how was it?" Arnold asked.
Gerald grinned and rubbed his nose and shrugged. "It was, ya know. Lunch. Just talked about...stuff."
"Yeah, stuff, stuff. You ask her out?"
"What? Dude, no! I wasn't gonna ask her out over a tray of tuna fish surprise. I swear, any second it was gonna crawl off my plate and eat me instead."
“You’re lucky you escaped with your life.”
“I’m a brave, brave kid.”
Outside Arnold’s next class, a circle of their friends had formed. They joined Rhonda, Harold, Sid, and Curly who were deep in conversation.
"Hey, guys, what're you talkin' about?" Arnold asked.
"Helga Pataki," Sid said excitedly.
"The devil herself, eh?" Gerald said. "You guys seen her?"
Sid’s face quickly fell. "I haven't."
" I have," Rhonda answered. "We spent practically all of lunch together."
"Reeaaally…" Gerald looked interested. "And? How'd that go?"
"Quite delightful, I thought. She was very well behaved, and it was certainly a blast from the past. Didn't you think so, Harold?"
"Yeah, great," Harold said. "Did you know that East Side took state in three different divisions last year? And their football team won the Golden Arrow."
Gerald made a face. "They won the Golden Arrow? I thought you had to be a Level 5 school to enter for the Golden Arrow."
"Guess not. It's probably because of Ziggy J. Fox.”
"The Ziggy J. Fox?" Gerald and Arnold said in unison. Rhonda looked at Curly and he shrugged.
"The football star?" Sid whistled. "Whoa-ho, those East Siders got some mula. How come we didn't hear about them getting Ziggy J. Fox?"
Harold said, "New this year, apparently. Then, ya know, the school went ka-boom, and he went to California. That's what Teri said, anyway."
"Who's Teri?" Arnold asked.
"One of Helga's buddies from East Side. I think he's on the basketball team, so you bozos won’t be able to avoid meeting him.”
"Basketball player?" Sid said, "Man, do you think he knows Ziggy J.—"
"Anyway!" Rhonda interrupted loudly. The boys turned to her and she rolled her eyes. "Yes, thank you Harold. Anyway, we thought Helga was quite nice and her friends from East Side were really quite civil. Didn't you think they were, Curly?"
Gerald put up a hand. "Wait a minute, wait a minute. Did you say Helga was nice?"
"Why, yes, in fact, I did." Rhonda widened her eyes at Gerald. "What a good listener you are! Yes, I said she was nice , you dork. She was very polite to me, and Eugene, and Sarah Xanthe, and Timothy Goodwin, and you know how important he is, and her little friend seemed quite attached to her."
"True," Curly said. "I ran into Helga outside, and she was shockingly affable. Said I looked like a babe." He winked at Rhonda, who smiled. Harold stepped in between them.
Gerald’s jaw had dropped. "Helga Pataki, nice? Affable, even? Can’t believe it. Is it possibly she really has changed?" He turned to Arnold. "And why do you look so smug? It's not like you had anything to do with it."
Arnold wasn’t aware he was looking smug, but he merely shrugged and gave him a "that's what you think" look. Then he headed into his classroom.
Behind him he heard Gerald ask the others, "He didn't have anything to do with it…right?"
He did not, in fact, have anything to do with it. However, Arnold liked to think to himself that he did. He had always believed there was more beneath the angry little girl persona than she showed.
Arnold made his way to the back of the classroom and took his seat as the bell rang, and there was only one word for how he was feeling when class started—triumphant. Hearing that he had been right made him feel like he had just won a bet where everyone was against him. He couldn't wait to see Helga now, and he would find it very difficult not to rub her niceness in everyone's faces. In her own face, even. She used to insist so avidly that she was a horrible person who enjoyed being horrible. He wondered if she even remembered any of that; it had been so many years ago.
His relationship with Helga had always been, at best, rocky. But towards the end, during the few weeks before her family up and moved to the furthest reaches of Hillwood, they had been friends. Well, friendlier. Well, she had stopped yelling at him. It was a more peaceful cohabitation, at the very least. Over the years following, Arnold had asked Phoebe now and again how Helga was doing, and after a while, he didn't even have to ask anymore. Whenever there was a spare chance, Phoebe would tell him about how Helga said this, or Helga did that. He had an inkling of how she had grown over the years and when he found she would be coming to his school now, he had been very interested, to say the least. He hadn't tried to convince anyone else of his theory, and had much preferred to let it pan out. Now that most everyone had seen her, though, he wanted to see her for himself.
Just as he was wondering when exactly he would get the chance, the door opened, interrupting the teacher in the middle of his sentence about civil wars in Russia. Arnold sat up straighter when the tall blonde he had been manifesting stepped into the room.
"Uh, hi," Helga said. "Sorry I'm late, I got lost." She crossed over to the teacher and gave him a slip of paper.
"Oh, yes, of course," the teacher looked at the paper, "Ms. Helga Pataki. Everyone, this is Helga, say hello." There were a few reluctant hellos from the front row as the teacher, overly enthusiastic as he always was, went to his desk to scribble on some papers. "You're from East Side High, then, Helga? I’m so sorry about your school,” he said.
"Yep." Helga shuffled her weight, avoiding the eyes of the thirty-plus students who were staring at her.
Such as Arnold. He liked her hair like that. He sort of missed the pigtails and big pink bow, but he liked it this way. It was long and shiny. She was wearing a pink shirt and a gray sweatshirt that she had her hands in the pockets of. She had grown into a proper girl, now, with curves and everything, and he couldn't tell from the back of the class, but she might have been wearing make-up. She looked a bit uncomfortable, but she still had a strong presence that said, "Do I look like I care?" She pushed her hair behind her ear and Arnold thought he saw a glimpse of red-heart earrings.
She looked good.
"So, Helga…" the teacher leaned against his desk and squinted at Helga, like she was a new species. "Tell us about yourself."
"What?" Now she looked a little panicked.
"What makes Helga Pataki...Helga Pataki?"
"Uhhh...DNA and operant conditioning?" she said.
A couple people chuckled and Arnold smiled.
The teacher nodded seriously. "Indeed. Indeed. And tell me, Helga, why did you choose Eastern European Pre-colonial Civilization and Culture?"
"...Excuse me?" she asked.
"This class."
Helga looked at the blackboard and a few maps on the walls. "Is that what this class is?"
A few more chuckles from the front row. Arnold grinned. As if he had anything to do with it.
"Ah, fantastic!" The teacher clapped his hands. "You don't know anything about it! That means you are a perfect mind for molding, a white canvas. Shall we begin to paint you?"
She took a step back and eyed him with distrust. "You come near me with any paint, bub, I swear I'm leaving."
This time the teacher laughed. "Oh, my dear! Now, where shall we seat you?" He scanned the room. "How about the seat behind Arnold. Arnold, raise your hand."
Arnold did so. Helga’s eyes snapped in his direction and their eyes locked. Then the teacher nudged her forward. "Go, little caterpillar. There is your cocoon," the teacher said.
Arnold put his hand down and watched Helga walk down the aisle toward him. She had dropped her eyes to the floor but he said to her when she reached him, "Hey, Helga."
She didn't look at him, only walked by and took her seat. He turned around but she was rustling around in her book bag. He turned back to the front as the teacher started animatedly describing the gore of the Russian battle technique.
Maybe she hadn't recognized him. Did he look that different? Did she forget him? There was no way she was just shy . No matter how much she had changed, Helga Pataki could not be shy .
Right as he was about to turn around to reintroduce himself, her voice reached him quietly but clearly:
"Hey, Arnold."
Chapter 2: Fight or Flight
Chapter Text
Helga had a problem.
And as she half walked, half jogged around the corners of the school halls, she was agonizingly aware of it.
Something is wrong with me. Seriously, seriously wrong with me. "Look out, kid!" What am I even doing? I look like a crazy person. "Excuse me, but get out of the way!" Who am I kidding. I am a crazy person. Ooh! Trash cans.
She dove behind three cans that were standing in a corner and scrambled to lean back against them. Did he see me?
She peeked between two bins, but there was no one she recognized in the hallway beyond. "Thank cheesus!" She slumped back, panting.
It was the morning of Helga's third day at Hillwood High and already her plans of casually seeing Arnold after seven years and then moving on with life had failed. Why? Well it was simple, really: because that first day, when she had come into his class and he had looked her right at her with his green, bright eyes and slightly crooked smile, as if he were perfectly amused to see her, he might as well have reached out at and electrocuted her. Smacked her across the face. Shaken her to her very core. Her bones had threatened to vibrate out of her skin.
It wasn’t just because he had been way cuter than was, you know, probably humanly possible. How could Phoebe have not warned her about this? No, her best friend, that traitor, had let her waltz into his class, totally unarmed! She needed a full kevlar vest to face off against a sixteen-year-old Arnold, who was tall and lean, his shoulders widened, his hair disheveled and lush. It even seemed like he had grown into his head a little. Not to mention he still had that obnoxious air of confidence and laid-backness about him. No one should look that at home in a vintage band t-shirt and scuffed jeans sitting in a grimy old desk with expletives carved in the top. Helga told herself it didn't happen, but her heart had probably, even, perhaps, skipped just a little bit.
Throughout that class, Helga had told herself it was ok. So he hadn’t looked horrified to see her, so what? So he was handsome, so what? So were lots of guys. Her heart had skipped a beat before. No big whoop.
But after school that first day as she was heading out to the bus to go home, she bumped into him. Well, slammed into him, sending them both sprawling. And he had laughed and apologized and offered her a hand to help her up, and her mind had gone blank. She had just...stopped functioning. Then, like a switch, her fight or flight responses had activated, and in her confusion to choose one, she picked both. She’d said, "Sheesh, football head, watch where you're going, why don't you, you klutz!" Then she had stood up, and run away. Yep.
So, this led to the reason she was now avoiding him: she did not want to relapse.
She did not want to be that girl again. She was grown up now, dammit, and had control of herself. She did not want to be the insane, obsessive chick who verbally (and sometimes physically) abused him, and then later had romantic fantasies and worshiped him at a creepy altar made of his old gum! She wanted to be herself, her new self, but apparently, around Arnold her body did not want to function with any sense of decorum.
So, she had decided to avoid him as much as possible. The less he was around, the better. That way she could prepare herself for the few times she was forced to see him, like during their one class together. She could be civil but distant to him at the beginning of class, and then, whenever he turned around, she could pretend she was asleep or taking notes. After class, she simply made sure to be the first one out the door. The problems came whenever she ran into him in outside of class. He had waved at her in the cafeteria yesterday, and she had turned quickly in the other direction. If she saw him coming down the hall towards her, she ducked into the nearest classroom and waited for him to pass. It felt silly for her to be going to so much trouble, but she didn't want the alternative of regressing into a pathetic little kid again.
Which led her to her current position. How running every time she saw him and hiding behind smelly garbage cans wasn't regressing was besides the point.
She froze when a voice said over her head, "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"
She looked up to see Gerald and Phoebe leaning over the trash cans.
"A little young to be a janitor, aren’t you?" Gerald grinned at her.
"Good morning, Helga," Phoebe said. "What are you doing back there?"
"Oh, uh, ya know...recycling stuff." Helga stood up. "So, uh, how're you guys?"
"Pretty good," Gerald said. "How are you, Helga? I haven't had the chance to talk to you yet. How've your first few days at Hillwood High been?"
"Great! Yeah, they've been very...educating."
"Gettin' used to our Hedgehog ways?"
"Oh, you bet ya. Gettin' my Hedgehog on."
The three of them stood awkwardly for a minute.
"So today you're comin' to basketball practice, right?" Gerald said.
"So I am," Helga replied.
Gerald gestured to Phoebe. "Someone tells me you're pretty good."
"Me? Pfft, nah. I'm ok."
"You're great, Helga," Phoebe insisted.
"Either way, it'll be interesting having a girl on the team. We were talkin' to the other guys, and I won't lie, some of 'em are a little hesitant about having a girl around. Don't worry, though, Arnold and I convinced 'em you could hold your own. Can't wait for you East Siders to show us some of your moves." He held up a fist for her to bump.
Helga calmed down enough to say, "Ditto" and bumped it. He told Phoebe he'd see her at lunch before walking away.
The girls watched him go in silence before Helga jerked her thumb in his direction and asked, "So, you gonna finally hit that, huh?"
Phoebe turned crimson. "Helga!"
"Kidding, kidding." Although it would be about time. After so long of will-they-won’t-they, Helga would have thought Phoebe and Gerald would have gotten together by now. Gerald was nice and cool and not bad looking, Helga thought. Because of course Phoebe had shown her Gerald’s picture the last couple years. She could have at least warned her about Arnold.
“Why are you glaring at me?” Phoebe asked.
“I’m not glaring. That’s just my face.”
They turned and walked down the hall. The only class they had together, much to Phoebe's disappointment, was pottery. Phoebe had said she had tried to get Helga transferred into some of her classes, but considering they were all advanced and honors classes, she had failed. Helga couldn’t say she was sad to miss out on advanced Calculus.
"Helga," Phoebe began lightly, "was it you I saw running away from us earlier?"
Helga jerked. "I wasn't running! I mean, what do you mean? When?"
Phoebe looked up at her with calm eyes. "Were you running from Arnold?"
"Pfft, no. Arnold was with you? I didn't see him. Why would I run from Arnold?"
"Yesterday he said he saw you in the cafeteria but it looked like you ran away."
"I was not running away, I just didn't want to be late for class, ok?"
"Ok." Phoebe dropped it, which Helga appreciated. They reached a fork where they had to part ways, and when her friend was gone, Helga rubbed her face and groaned.
"She's avoiding me."
Gerald squinted in the sun up at Arnold, who was standing over him. "Who's avoiding you?" Gerald asked.
"Helga," Arnold said.
"Helga's avoiding you? What makes you say that?"
Arnold sat next to him at the picnic table where Gerald was waiting for Phoebe during lunch. Apparently their lunch together the other day had started a trend.
Arnold said, "I just bumped into her coming out of the cafeteria and tried to talk to her, but she said she was busy and left."
"Sounds like she was busy, not avoiding you."
"When I say she left, I mean she left . She was going so fast I'm pretty sure she's halfway to Timbuktu by now."
Gerald shrugged, taking a bite of his sandwich. "She was in a hurry."
Arnold continued, "You know that class I have with her? She always gets there right before the bell rings, and she's always the first one out. It’s been days and I haven’t talked to her in class once. And yesterday I saw her across the blacktop, and she hid behind that big friend of hers. She literally hid from me."
"It was hot. Maybe she was just trying to get some shade."
Arnold frowned. "Yeah, maybe, but it seems like every time I try to talk to her she seems to suddenly be going in the other direction. It just seems like she's avoiding me, is all."
"You're being paranoid. It all sounds normal to me. She's been here less than a week, Arnold. I'm sure she's just getting used to stuff, it's got nothing to do with you. Don't worry about it. 'Sides, what do you care if she is avoiding you?"
Arnold huffed. “I dunno. I just thought since she's new she might like to see a friendly face once in a while, but she's making it awfully difficult for me to be that friendly face. Besides, no one has avoided me before—why should she avoid me?"
"Did you say something to make her mad or anything?" Gerald asked.
“No, of course not.”
"Well, then maybe she just doesn't like you. I mean, she never used to."
Arnold was already shaking his head before Gerald finished. "No, that can't be it. She used to hate everyone else, too, and now she's all chummy with them ."
Gerald shrugged. "Hey, it happens sometimes. Some people are super nice and yet they might just rub someone else wrong. Maybe you're like that to Helga, even after all this time."
Arnold sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I know it happens sometimes," he was forced to admit, "but she's not that kind of girl any more. I don't think. I mean, Phoebe's told me stories about her over the last few years, and I see her hanging out with her friends, or with some of our friends, and she's nice and friendly and funny. And I just don't think she'd be the kind of person who doesn't like someone for no reason." He looked at Gerald, who was giving him a funny look. "What?"
Gerald chewed his sandwich before saying, "Nothin'. Well, she can't avoid you forever. The East Siders are comin' to practice today— then she'll have to talk to you."
Arnold sat on the bleachers in the gym, a basketball between his feet. The rest of the team was scattered around him in their red, black, and orange jerseys, the Hedgehog colors. Gerald sat next to him, seeing how long he could spin a ball on each of his fingers. Stinky sat on Arnold's other side, stretching his long legs out and taking up three rows by himself.
Hillwood High's basketball teams were smaller than most, so the Varsity and Junior Varsity practiced together, and combined there were nineteen boys from the Sophomore thru Senior classes. Arnold and Stinky were J.V., but Gerald was Varsity. He was the only Sophomore on the Varsity team, and most likely would be captain their Senior year. That is, if Wolfgang didn't get held back. Again.
Wolfgang, the huge, crew-cut Junior, was vice captain and spent most of his time shadowing the actual captain, a surprisingly short but wicked fast Japanese kid named Itchy. When not kissing up to Itchy, Wolfgang’s favorite thing to do was follow Arnold down the court, shouting insults in his ear, in hopes of distracting him from making the shot. Arnold hadn’t missed a shot yet. Sa-wish .
Currently, Wolfgang was standing next to the captain, Itchy (who's real name was Yuki Ichihama-Soshima), who was talking to Carlos Moze, the East Side Eagles' Senior captain. Ex-captain, anyway. Teri and Lenny were already there, too, wearing their purple and gold Eagle's jerseys, sitting a little ways apart from the other boys. Teri yawned and rolled his shoulders, and Lenny blew large bubbles with his gum.
"Do you have to go to the bathroom, er somethin'?" Stinky asked Arnold.
"What?" Arnold said.
"Yer leg’s bouncin’ and ya keep lookin' at the door, and I was wonderin' if you were waitin' for a chance to hit the stalls."
Arnold admitted silently that he had, indeed, stolen a few glances at the gym doors, but they had yet to give him what he wanted. Currently, the only thing going in and out of them was Coach Beezus, a very loud man who looked more like a gorilla than anything else. He was carrying in equipment, cones and balls and tape, and he was doing it himself because he didn't trust (in his words), "the no good sons of guns who found it mighty amusing to steal civic property from a public institute of education.”
"No, I don't have to go to the bathroom," Arnold replied.
"Then what're you so jumpy about? You look jumpier than a fox trapped in a hen house," Stinky said.
"He's waiting for Helga," Gerald said helpfully. Arnold nudged him just enough to make him drop the basketball he had balanced on his middle finger.
Stinky nodded. "Ah, yeah, I can see why."
Arnold looked at him.
Stinky continued, "You're worried about havin' a girl on the team, too, aren't ya? Well, can't say I don't blame ya. But I think Helga Pataki's butch enough to handle it, don't you?"
"I wouldn't say she's butch, Stinky. And I think she'll do just fine on the team," Arnold said.
"I sure hope so. Just so long as she doesn't get underfoot and trip any of us up. Girls are so little, I always seem to be trippin' on ‘em." Arnold didn't point out that Stinky was the one who was abnormally huge. Arnold turned when he heard the door open and Stinky said, "An' speak of the devil, here she is now!"
Across the gymnasium, Helga entered. Her hair was pulled straight back into a ponytail and she was wearing the purple and gold Eagle's uniform. Pataki was written across the back in big letters, the number 13 on the front. She stopped inside the door and looked at the group of boys sprawled over the bleachers, and Arnold could have sworn she looked directly at him. After a second she started across the court, but she didn't get more than ten feet before Coach Beezus noticed her and called her over to him.
The coach had a loud voice that carried, even when he was trying to be quiet. As it was, Arnold couldn't quite make out what he was saying, since it sounded like a string of loudness, but everyone could hear when the coach exclaimed, " You're Pataki?"
"Uh-oh," Gerald said.
"Didn't someone tell coach about her?" Arnold asked.
"Yeah, but I don't think he believed the fact that she isn't a guy 'til just now."
More of the team turned to see what the commotion was about, as Beezus crossed his arms and shook his head. Helga looked frustrated as she spoke back and gestured toward the team.
"All right, come on," Arnold said, pulling Gerald up with him.
"What?" Gerald said. "Me? Where we goin'?"
"Yes, you, come on. We gotta go talk to Coach."
"Alright, alright."
Arnold was halfway down the bleachers when Carlos Moze jogged across the gym first. Arnold hesitated as the ex-captain joined Helga and Beezus with his hands on his hips, looking first at one then the other.
Their conversation went on for several minutes, Moze standing next to Helga and pleading her case as she got more and more frustrated and the coach got more and more stubborn. Arnold huffed and hurried to the bottom of the bleachers, but all of a sudden, the three people on the court went silent. Coach Beezus and Helga glared at each other until all at once Helga spun around and stalked out of the gym, the slamming door echoing behind her.
"Hey!" Arnold said indignantly, frowning deeper at his coach.
Gerald scoffed. "Man, that ain't cool. I can't believe he kicked her out."
"S'pose it was just too much for the ol’ man to handle," Stinky said behind them. A few teammates agreed.
Coach Beezus walked back across the gym and said to the team, "There's just no room for a girl on this team. Says so in the rule book. This is a man's sport, which is why, in my opinion, the girls' team was cut from our school in the first place."
Gerald leaned toward Arnold, "But wasn't she on the boys' team at East Side, anyway?"
Arnold nodded, looking down at Beezus with a quiet glare. He had never loved Coach Beezus. And right now, he straight up disliked him.
Coach Beezus continued, "Besides, I've got enough of you little girls to worry about. All right, all you, let's see what—where do you think you're going?"
Moze, who had slung his bag over his shoulder, turned to look at Beezus. "We're a team," he said. "You get all of us, or none of us. Isn't that right, Teri?"
Teri had also picked up his things. He stood on the bleacher in front of Moze and saluted. "Oh Captain, my Captain, I'll follow you anywhere." He made his way off the bleachers, saying over his shoulder, "Let's go, Lenny."
Lenny, who was still sitting, said, "But I can't get into college if I don't get a basketball scholarship."
"Let's go , Lenny."
"Yeah, all right, all right, I'm comin'..."
And then the three remaining Eagles left the gym. The Hedgehogs were roused back to life when Coach Beezus, now livid, shouted, "Twenty six laps! Go, go, go!" The boys scrambled off the bleachers. "Anderson, you call that running? Quit pickin' your nose and move! Philips, so help me, if you don't speed up, I'll tie you to the back of my car and drive up and down the freeway until you can learn to run!"
The team circled the gym, and then again, and as they went conversations about what had happened floated around. Some were angry about losing such good players as the Eagles, some were glad they didn't have to work with their previous enemies. All were whispering about Helga.
"Man, what a bummer," Gerald said with a sigh. "Guess we don't get to learn any Eagle moves after all."
"I sure was lookin' forward to it," Stinky agreed.
"If I were them, I'd be pretty ticked off, too. Man, I can't stand that kind of misogyny." Gerald shot a nasty look at Beezus. "You think Helga's upset?"
"Yeah," Arnold said.
"She's got tough skin," Stinky replied. "I'll bet she's off plannin’ Beezus’ downfall this very minute."
Gerald chuckled. "I'll bet she is."
Arnold didn't say so, but he was worried it was worse than they thought. He had learned from Phoebe (after being sworn to secrecy) that Helga's basketball career had been really important in her home life. When she made the team, her uninterested father, Big Bob, had suddenly been proud of his daughter, the only girl on the boys' team. He had been to every game, put up her trophies on a nice little shelf labeled "Helga," and donated to the team. The Patakis had never been warm-and-fuzzy toward Helga, and Arnold had been glad to hear she was getting along better with them these days.
Now Helga was off the team. Arnold knew only too well what Helga's family was like, and he wondered how they would respond.
Gerald said somewhere around lap sixteen, "That Moze guy is somethin', though, don't you think? And Teri and Lenny, too."
Arnold nodded appreciatively. "Yeah. They didn't even hesitate—if Helga couldn't play, neither would they. Shows what a good team they used to have. Maybe we should have stood up, too."
"What, like a boycott? You think that would work against someone like Beezus?"
"Maybe," Arnold said, eyeing their coach. Beezus was patting Wolfgang on the shoulder affectionately.
"Was Helga that good a player?" Gerald asked.
"That's not the point," Arnold replied.
Stinky said, "Sure as ere cakes go with fire flowers on the 4th o’ July."
They looked at him.
"I agree," he translated.
Forty-three blocks, two freeways, and one bridge away from her new high school, Helga walked through the front door of her house. The town home was wide and clean with new furniture and a flat screen TV. There were fresh peonies on the coffee table and music was playing lightly from the kitchen. Helga shut the door behind her and sighed. She had avoided coming home as long as she could, standing on the corner with Teri and Lenny and bad mouthing the stupid Hedgehog's jackass coach for over an hour. Eventually, though, the sun started setting and she had to head home.
She passed the kitchen and saw her mother humming along to the music while chopping fruit.
"Hey, Mom," Helga said.
Miriam turned, "Oh, Helga, there you are! How was school?"
"Great."
"Good, good."
Miriam had somehow blossomed into a vibrant middle aged woman in their new financial situation. Her lethargy and depression had been helped by moving to a new home and given fresh surroundings, and the little bit of extra spending money helped, too. She now went (per her psychiatrists' suggestion) to yoga twice a week, and lunch with the girls from yoga once a week. The real change had come when, two years ago, Helga's older sister, Olga, and her husband, Danny, had a baby. Miriam's high expectations of Olga's perfection had been realized in the perfection of her grandchild, and there were many pictures of Danny Jr. scattered about the apartment to prove it. Helga's unpalatably-perfect big sister, finally fleeing the suffocation of their parents’ expectations, now lived with Danny (whom she had met while hiking in Alaska) and Jr. in an artsy little suite in Seattle, where her husband was a professor of literature and Olga a professor of music. Having one daughter so perfectly successful and happy made Miriam feel accomplished (though she really had nothing to do with it) and had allowed some cheer (not to say she didn't have bad spells once in a while) and time for the rest of life and the rest of her family.
"What music is this?" Helga asked about the unbearable pop.
"It's Tiffany, dear. She was veeery popular when I was in college. Here, Helga, I made smoothies!" Miriam offered Helga a tall glass of orange liquid with green flecks in it. Helga eyed it up and down. "Don't worry, dear, it's a virgin smoothie. Sober three years!" Miriam handed Helga the glass and went back to chopping more fruit and vegetables, like eggplant and kale, since her newest hobby was organic health drinks.
Helga sipped the smoothie and winced but she took it with her to the hall. The door was open to her father, Big Bob's, study, which was really just a room where he could build model airplanes or play solitaire whenever he wanted. She considered turning back around and avoiding him, but her room was on the other side and she really wanted to crawl in bed and not get out again. Her best hope was that Big Bob was too busy doing something else to notice her walking by. She rolled her shoulders, took a big gulp of her smoothie, and practically jogged down the hall.
"Helga!" her father called.
She stopped, her hand frozen on her bedroom door knob. "Yeah, dad?"
"Come here!"
She reluctantly turned and sulked back to his office. Not daring to go in, she stood in the doorway and watched Big Bob glue a wing on an airplane. His desk was filled with knick knacks and pictures of Danny Jr., with a high stack of paperwork being neglected to one side. Several marketing posters were tacked to a corkboard on one side, advertising Big Bob's Beepers now presents: the Mobile Phone! Bob had invested in cellphones right on time as beepers finally died and cellphones were popping up in everyone's hands. The last minute business move had carried their family away from lower west side Hillwood all those years ago.
There was also a couch in one corner and a TV opposite, and lining the walls were glass cases with shelves upon shelves of trophies with Olga's name on them. Behind Bob's desk was a single shelf that said "Helga" with three trophies, two for best female basketball player (which had really been a joke, since she was the only female player at East Side) and the other a little plaque that said "Good Citizen," which all the kids had received upon graduating junior high.
Bob looked up from under his dark unibrow at his youngest daughter, a light orange mustache on his lips from one of Miriam's smoothies. "So, how'd practice go?" he asked.
Oh, man... "Great. Yeah, it went great."
"You show those Hedgehogs a thing or two about real ball?"
"You know it, Dad. They didn't know what hit 'em. Ha ha."
"As a Pataki should! When's your first big game? You can bet I'll be sittin' on the front row with the ol' Pataki cheer squad shirt on!" Big Bob laughed so loud it knocked the model airplane's wing off.
"Uh...you know what, I'm not sure when the first game is. I'll have to get back to you on that," Helga said.
Bob was lathering the wing with glue again. "Sure thing, sure thing, kid. Say, how good are those Hedgehogs anyway? Criminy, it'd sure be a shame if they screw with your winning streak like a bunch of losers, huh?"
Helga twisted the smoothie glass in her hand. "I dunno, I think they're ok. 'Sides, it's not always about winning, right?"
"Well, sure it is. What's more important than winning? How else will you get that UCLA scholarship so I can rub it in Winston’s face? Sick of hearing about his stupid son’s college soccer team. But you don't have to worry about that—you're a Pataki! We're winners!"
"Right. Well, yeah, glad we had this talk, but, uh, I've got...homework."
"Sure, sure, go on."
She began to turn away.
"Oh, hey!" He thrust a fist in the air. "Go Hedgehogs!"
She half heartedly put her fist up. His laughter followed her down the hall. She made it back to her bedroom again before stopping. What was she going to do, just pretend she was still on the team? What would she do when her parents showed up at the game and she wasn't there? She rubbed her forehead and took another swig of her smoothie. She wished there was alcohol in it. It might help the heavy pit in her stomach.
Life had been better at home the last little while, but Helga lived in constant fear that any second it could slip back to what it had been. Being ignored. Being overlooked. Being compared to her sister over and over and over. But what could she do? This was a lie that would be difficult to keep up. The old Helga would have told lies and set up scenarios and tried her hardest to fool her father. The old Helga never would have admitted that she wanted her family's attention but would have still worked tooth and nail to get a scrap of it.
But that was old Helga.
This was new Helga. New Helga had nice friends and a big sister who called her on the phone once in a while.
What would new Helga do in this situation?
Life at home had been better, it was true, and she knew a lot of it had to do with basketball. But you know what? It's not like she wanted to grow up and be a professional WNBA player or anything. She would have quit eventually. She liked to play, sure, but it really didn't go beyond that. Her father would have had to face it eventually, and she would have to accept the consequences.
She turned around and popped her head through her Big Bob's study door. She said casually, "Oh, Dad, I forgot to tell you—I quit the team."
He looked up in surprise, but she was already headed to her bedroom, and once inside she locked the door behind her. She leaned back against the door, a hand over her mouth. Oh, gosh, what did I do? I hate new Helga—new Helga, what have you done? She slid to the floor and stared at her room. And to think, just a few hours ago her biggest worry was that she might have to be on the same team as Arnold.
Helga sometimes regretted the fact that she wasn't really a wallower. Her mother was, for sure, and her sister could do her fair share of being depressed, but Helga had missed that gene. She got upset, sure, and sometimes held it in for days, but on the outside...she just couldn't bear to show that kind of weakness to other people. So it was only twenty minutes after telling her father she had quit basketball that she emerged from her room, carrying her melted smoothie down the hall with downcast eyes.
She was purposely avoiding her father's study, but a loud thud made her look inside anyway. Bob wasn't there, but Miriam was. She was picking up Helga's Good Citizen trophy that had fallen on the floor. Helga stared in horror at her empty trophy shelf. Already? They were erasing her immediately?
As she straightened, Miriam noticed Helga. "Oh, hello. Just cleaning off your shelf. B told me you quit." She picked up her duster and began dusting off the shelf (really the only cleaning she ever did, since before she had done none and now they could afford a maid).
Helga didn't know whether to cry or throw her smoothie across the room in anger. She settled for speechless and crossed the carpet to look in the garbage can. The trophies weren't in there. "Where—" she cleared her throat, "Where are they?"
"Hmm?" Miriam turned. "The old trophies? They're over there." She pointed.
Helga turned and looked at the trophy cases with shelves and shelves of Olga's trophies, confused. Then, in the corner, she saw them, on a lower shelf where Olga's trophies had been crowded to one side to give them space. Helga walked toward them slowly, even more confused.
Miriam placed the Good Citizen trophy back on Helga's shelf and stepped away to look at it. She turned suddenly. "Oh! And you'll never guess what I found in the same box as my Tiffany CD!" She picked something off Bob's desk. "Ta-da!"
Helga turned to see a framed cover of a magazine, with herself as a kid on the front, dripping in bright pink clothes and scowling. In big letters at the top, the magazine read, "The IT Girl: Fabulous and Fierce!" Miriam set the picture beside the basketball trophies in the case. Helga looked at them all there, head cocked to the side.
"There." Miriam looked back at the nearly empty Helga-shelf behind the desk. "I used to do this for Olga whenever she quit something. Goodness, that girl was so industrious, always doing something new. But look, now there's plenty of room for whatever new thing you want to do." She patted Helga's shoulder before leaving. "Don't admire it too long! B's ordering pizza."
Helga stood in her father's office, a long awaited feeling, years in the making, of relief washing over her. Her trophies were on the same shelf as Olga's. Her mom was treating her the same way she had Olga. She was just like Olga. Well, kind of.
In a secret sign of gratitude to her mother, Helga gulped down the rest of the smoothie she was still holding. She wiped her mouth and headed toward the kitchen to put her glass away. Her father was standing in the living room, shouting at the pizza guy on the other end of the phone and flipping channels with the remote at the same time. She stood in the kitchen and listened to him.
"What do you mean it's expired? It's a coupon! Coupon's can't expire! Ah, here it is!" He stopped flipping channels. "Ha! We're up by two. No, not you idiot, the baseball game. You're not a baseball fan, are you? Basketball either? Yeah, I could tell. So how about that coupon?" Miriam walked into the room. "Miriam, what do you want on your pizza?"
"Well, I don't know. Mushrooms," Miriam said.
"Mushrooms? Just mushrooms? Who wants just mushrooms, Miriam, that's boring. That's not what winners eat. Helga, tell Miriam what winners eat."
Helga was surprised at being addressed so directly, but again, there was that feeling of relief to lighten her up. "Winners eat everything on it!"
"That's right! Winners eat everything on it." Big Bob moved into the kitchen, still arguing about coupons, and Helga flounced down on the couch to watch the game.
Miriam sighed and sat next to her. "Do we have to watch this? I thought we could move on from boring sports TV now that you're done with it."
"Just 'cause I don't play basketball doesn't mean I can't enjoy sports," Helga replied.
"Amen!" came Bob’s agreement from the kitchen.
"Yes, well, all right." Miriam sat for a minute. "Well, I think I'll go make us some smoothies to go with dinner." She stood up.
"Ok. Hey, can you make the same ones you made earlier? I thought they were good," Helga said. I'll throw you a bone, Mom, since you threw me one.
Miriam brightened. "Of course, dear."
Helga sat snuggled on the couch, listening to her father yelling on the phone and then loudly at her mother when she revved up the blender, and thought, I guess my family's pretty ok .
Arnold was not thinking that Helga's family was pretty ok. In fact, he was thinking quite the opposite. He was remembering back to all the times Helga had complained about or been embarrassed by or been hurt by her family. He knew, though she had never really told him, that it was a large source of much of her unhappiness. Even if Phoebe reported to him that the Patakis were better these days, it didn't erase all he had known about them from before.
So, there he was at school the next morning, having effectively snuck up on Helga. In fact, he was standing two feet behind her while she rummaged in her locker, and the only one who had noticed him was Agatha, who looked up at him with her big pink eyes, not saying anything.
"Helga," Arnold said.
Helga turned—"Ack!"—and jumped back, hitting her head on the door of her locker. She rubbed her head and slammed the door shut. "What?" she snapped at him.
"Uh...hey." It was the first time he had stood this close to her in seven years, and he was suddenly distracted by the fact that he was looking down at her. He was taller than her. Only by about two inches, but still. The thought crossed his mind that she was the perfect height for a hug, which he was completely prepared to give if she needed it. "How are you feeling?"
She looked at him oddly. "Fine." She turned and started walking down the hall, both Agatha and Arnold following.
"You still pissed at Beezus?" he asked.
She gave a noncommittal "Tsk!"
"Us too. Just so you know, we were all on your side. Well, most of us. We tried to talk to him about it after practice but, well, we didn't really get anywhere," he said.
She glanced back at him, before looking firmly ahead again. She was walking pretty fast, but he could keep pace with her. Concerned he looked down at Agatha, who had much shorter legs. She also kept up with Helga easily; she must be used to it. She was staring at him without blinking.
"Hi," he said to her.
"Hi," Agatha said back, before finally looking away.
"Anyway, Helga. Listen, if you need anything, just say so, ok?" Arnold said.
"Why would I need anything?" Helga replied flatly.
"Well, you know. Just thought you might be kind of upset about the basketball thing—"
"I'm not upset."
"And maybe about your whole parent thing, so I thought you might want to know that we support you." Arnold had to pause and turn back because Helga had stopped moving and he passed her.
"What 'parent' thing?" she asked.
"Well…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just know how your parents are sometimes. And, listen, even if they're mad, or whatever, you don't have to worry about that, ok? Honestly, they really can't judge. I mean, just look at them."
"Excuse me?"
He became silent. Her look had turned to one of disbelief and offense. Uh-oh. Immediately he felt his own foot kicking around in his mouth. He tried to backtrack, "No, that's not what I meant! I mean, your parents are very successful, I only meant that they don't have any right to be so shallow—"
"Shallow?"
"No! I mean, I know they always used to love your sister and you always felt kind of neglected, so I just don't think they should be so wishy-washy just because you play basketball or you don't play basketball—"
"Who said they were wishy-washy?"
He shook his head and briefly tried to remember another time when he had said so much of the wrong thing. "No one said that. Nope. But you know, I didn't mean any of that, I only meant I hope that everything's alright at home, is all, and I hope that not playing basketball doesn't ruin it at all, 'cause I know how important it was."
She was looking at him, after days of avoiding him, but now he wished she wasn’t. Her blue eyes narrowed; her black eyebrows lowered. "How do you know?"
"Um, oh, well, you know...intuition?"
"Phoebe told you? What else did she tell you? All my deepest darkest secrets, huh?"
Crap. Now she was going to be mad at Phoebe, too, and it was his fault. "No, no, it wasn't really her fault, I was just being nosy!"
"Damn straight you were!" she said.
Arnold frowned a little. "Well, hey, I wasn't being that nosy! We've known each other a long time, what's the big deal about me knowing some stuff about your life?"
"I'll tell you why, football head— you never bothered to ask me . You don’t get free access to my inner life, as if you're some great friend or something!"
"Hey, I tried to be your friend, you were always so mean—"
"You did not try! Not once when I moved did you call, or, or send a letter! We are not friends, and I don't want a stranger bad mouthing my family on hearsay, and I don't need help, least of all yours!" She shoved past him, clipping his shoulder with hers, and stalked away.
Arnold looked back at Agatha, who had been watching the whole thing like a fascinating tennis match. After a moment she stuck her nose in the air, "Hmphd!" and followed after Helga.
Arnold stood in the hallway for a minute, not really sure what had happened. Then he put a hand over his eyes and groaned. If he thought she was avoiding him before, there would be no doubt about it now.
The J.V. basketball team didn't have practice that day because the Freshman team had a game, at which Coach Beezus liked to stand on the sidelines and helped their own coach yell at them. So after school, Arnold met Gerald by the front gate where dozens of kids were waiting for the buses.
"Hey, man, what's with the sour face?" Gerald asked. "You didn't eat that jell-o from the cafeteria, did you? I heard Benny Watts was sick from it during fourth period."
Arnold didn't respond but leaned against the fence with his arms crossed, chewing on his cheek.
"What? You get a bad grade or something?" Gerald waited. "Hello, dude, do you even see me?" He waved a hand in front of Arnold.
Arnold turned to him. "I'm a likable guy, right?"
"Uh, sure. Everyone likes you," Gerald said.
"You have to say that, you're my best friend."
"Well I wouldn't be your friend unless you were likable, right?"
"Hmm."
"Why the sudden self-reflection?" Gerald said.
Arnold sighed. He hadn't stopped sighing since he had made a huge idiot of himself that morning. "I think Helga hates me."
Gerald rolled his eyes. "Not this again."
The bus rolled up and they got in line with the rest of the kids to file on.
"What is it now that makes you think that?" Gerald asked, slightly exasperated.
"Well, we kind of got in a fight," Arnold started.
Gerald raised his eyebrows. "A fight? About what?"
"Um..." Arnold didn’t want to say too much. He’d already betrayed Helga’s confidence enough. "Just some stuff. But we ended up yelling at each other and then she stormed off."
"Sheesh." Gerald shook his head disappointedly. "And here I was hoping she had really changed. Guess she's still as cranky as ever."
"No, it's not that. It was my fault," Arnold admitted.
"Your fault?"
Arnold climbed on the bus and Gerald followed him. He found their usual seat and Gerald slid in next to him.
"How was it your fault? What did you do?" Gerald asked.
Arnold spoke in a lower voice so the kids around them wouldn't hear. "I was pretty insensitive about her family and I think I hurt her feelings."
Gerald looked at him, surprised. He lowered his voice as well. "Really? About the Patakis?"
Arnold nodded with a wince. "I didn't mean to pick a fight. I was trying to cheer her up about the whole basketball thing, but I did it in a really non-tactful way."
They paused when Phoebe passed them in the aisle, and Arnold lost Gerald's attention.
"Hey, Phoebe!" Gerald said brightly.
"Hi, Gerald," she replied. Then she glared at Arnold. She huffed down the aisle and sat in the back of the bus as it pulled away from the curb.
Gerald turned from where Phoebe had gone. "Yikes, what a cold, cold look. Guess Phoebe heard about your fight and is taking Helga’s side, huh?" He shook his head and patted Arnold sympathetically. "But you were trying to cheer her up, right? Helga seems pretty chill now. I'm sure if you apologized, she'd understand."
Arnold had tried to apologize to Helga at lunch. All he had gotten in return was the iciest glare he had ever seen. "I don't think an apology will cut it, Gerald. I think I kind of made her hate me more."
"Man. It's a shame, Arnold, but don't let one girl's view of you get you down! You know everyone else likes you. So what if there's one person who doesn't?"
Arnold knew Gerald was probably right, but he couldn't ignore the irritated, nagging feeling in the back of his head. He put an elbow on the back of his seat and turned around. "Hey, Rhonda."
Rhonda looked up at him. She sat by herself today so she could lay out her legs and repaint her nails. "What's up, Arnold?" she asked.
"You know a lot about popularity and stuff. Can I ask you a question?"
She blinked before screwing the lid back on her polish. "You've come to the right person. What is your question?"
"Do people like me?"
Harold was sitting in the seat behind Rhonda with his arms on the back of her seat. He guffawed at Arnold’s question. "Do people like you? Why, you running for prom queen?" He stopped when Rhonda held up a hand.
All three boys waited as Rhonda sat up, eyes closed, her hands folded carefully so as not to ruin her polish. Gerald leaned toward Arnold and whispered, "Listen up good, Arnold. The Godfather knows all."
Arnold whispered back, "We are blessed to know the sum of all knowledge."
Rhonda opened her eyes and looked at Arnold. "Arnold. I've known you a long time. Many have. You're good at sports. You have a funny shaped head. You used to wear the same baseball hat every day until you were twelve."
"Whoa!" Harold looked impressed. "She's right!" Gerald told him to shut up, idiot.
Rhonda continued, "Your grades are always in the top percent of the class. You always work very hard at whatever it is you're doing. And I have never seen you in front of a girl and you don't hold the door open for her." Rhonda leaned forward, looking at Arnold seriously. He swallowed. "Yes, Arnold. People like you."
He relaxed. "Really?"
"Of course!" Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Arnold, everyone likes you. You're friendly and nice to the point where it's gross. The only reason anyone wouldn't like you is because everyone else likes you too much."
"See?" Gerald said. "What'd I tell you—nothing to worry about."
Arnold said, "But that's exactly my point. If everyone likes me, then why shouldn't she?"
"What's this?" Rhonda said. "Do you like a girl, Arnold?"
"It's not like that," he said.
"Yeah," Gerald chimed in, "he's being insecure because Helga hates him."
"Helga hates you?" Rhonda cocked her head and said, "That doesn't seem like Helga," as if she knew Helga better than anyone.
"Well, she does," Arnold said, and then thinking back to their argument, "and, yeah, maybe on good grounds this time. But that's all the more reason I have to change her mind."
They looked at him.
"You have to what now?" Gerald asked.
Just then Sid, wearing a pair of ostentatious green sunglasses today, made his way down the aisle and sat next to Rhonda. "What are you guys talking about? You all looked so intense I had to come over here."
Harold helpfully filled him in, "Everyone apparently loves Arnold but Helga doesn't, so now he wants to make her love him."
"What? You’re into Helga?" Sid exclaimed. "Schweet, we got some classic romantic comedy goin' on."
Rhonda smacked Sid on the head. "That's not it."
"Why'd you hit me, it was Harold who said it!"
Rhonda ignored Sid's pain. "She just hates him, and Arnold, in an attempt to protect his popularity, has rightly decided to change her mind."
Arnold said, "Well, I dunno about popularity, but yeah. I mean, she's friends with all you guys, now, right?" There were noncommittal shrugs all around. "Why not friends with me? Don't you think she should be friends with me?"
"But of course," Rhonda agreed. Harold shrugged.
"Sure," Sid said, probably just glad to be a part of the conversation.
Arnold looked. Gerald magnanimously said, "Arnold, if you want to be friends with her, I have no choice but to make it happen. What are best friends for, if not to make all your weird dreams come true?" They clasped hands and wiggled their thumbs at each other, their old childhood handshake.
Rhonda whipped out her cell phone and her fingers flew along the keyboard. "This is perfect timing! I've been looking for a new project!"
Arnold blinked at her. "New project?"
"Of course. And helping you, Arnold, is perfect." She put a hand to her chest. "Being the good Samaritan I am."
"Wait, who did you just text?" Arnold asked.
All the boys looked at her.
"Oh, only a few friends," She looked down when her phone buzzed. "Nadine says she's on board. Oh, and so is Sheena. And look! Even Sarah Xanthe is. And Taylor from math lab. Ah, and Stinky." She turned to the back of the bus where Stinky was sitting and he gave her a thumbs up.
Arnold lunged forward and grabbed her phone. "What are you doing!"
"What? I thought some other people would want to help, too. You can't keep all the fun to yourself, Arnold." Rhonda sniffed.
"It's not about fun, Rhonda! I'm serious. And Helga can't know, or it won't work!"
Rhonda took back her phone that was still buzzing with a new response every second. "Of course, Arnold! I told all of them to keep it quiet. Don't worry, we can keep a secret."
Arnold eyed the phone in her hand and didn't know if he believed that.
"Wow, so we're really doing this huh?" Gerald said. "We're gonna get Helga Pataki to like Arnold. Only just sixteen years in the coming, am I right?"
Arnold rounded on him and poked him in the nose. "And you!"
"Me?" Gerald looked startled.
"You cannot, absolutely cannot, tell Phoebe."
The group turned to the backseat of the bus where Phoebe was sitting with her headphones in, reading a book. She looked up when she felt their gazes and shifted uncomfortably. Everyone turned back around.
Gerald rubbed his nose. "All right, all right. I won't tell her."
"So how are we going to do this?" Sid rubbed his hands together. "Sonnets? Flowers? Posters? How?"
Arnold said, "Absolutely none of that."
"We'll have to be subtle," Rhonda agreed. "You know, drop gentle hints to her, talk about how great Arnold is, that sort of thing."
Sid thought about this. "Ok, yeah, I can do that."
"Great," Arnold said.
"What are you going to do, Arnold?" Gerald asked. "You can't drop hints about yourself."
"No," Arnold smiled. "I have an idea."
Chapter 3: Ladybird
Chapter Text
Mrs. Juarez's art room was falling apart at the seams. The green tiles on the floor were cracked and the walls had a colorful splattering of paint, which had accumulated over the fifteen years Mrs. Juarez had been working at Hillwood High. Broken easels and stools had been patched up with duct tape and glue, and the sink water ran slightly brown. Even though the room was old, there was always a healthy handful of students who signed up for the many different art classes. Happy drawings hung on every wall, no matter how terrible they were, since Mrs. Juarez took very great care to nurture every growing artisan.
Mrs. Juarez herself was a short, jolly, middle aged woman who called everybody niño and mijita . One of her favorite mijitas was Phoebe Heyerdahl, who at the moment was sitting to the side of the new student, mijita Helga.
Desks had been pushed out of the way and pottery wheels and stools set up for the small class of potters. Phoebe was a decent potter, and she presently had her sleeves rolled up as she steadily carved out a vase with her hands. She glanced over at Helga, who was slumped over her potter's wheel and lightly dozing. Phoebe shook her head.
Helga had had a rough first two weeks at their school, Phoebe had noticed. Helga didn't always tell Phoebe exactly what was going on, but Phoebe was a keen observer and had learned over the years to pick up on her friend's distress. First the basketball issue had happened, and then over the next several days Helga had been acting jumpier and jumpier. Helga’s tension was manifesting on her face in the form of dark bags under the eyes and a perpetual yawn. It hadn't taken Phoebe long to recognize that Helga was at her jumpiest whenever Arnold was mentioned.
Her first thought was that it was because Helga was still angry at him. The details of the argument between her two friends had been told to Phoebe by an irate Helga shortly after it had happened. Phoebe had felt awful for sharing secrets, and disappointed in Arnold, whom she had believed to be the perfect confidant. She had given a tearful apology that had thankfully swayed Helga's mercy. Phoebe knew she wasn't fully forgiven yet, but Helga hadn't been outwardly begrudging, so Phoebe had hope.
Helga's jumpiness hadn't been the only change Phoebe had noticed. Dozens of people were suddenly popping up daily and talking about their blond acquaintance. All the time. When Phoebe had asked if Gerald knew anything about why that might be, he had flat-out denied noticing any signs of people obsessively talking about Arnold. He was lying, obviously—which Phoebe didn’t appreciate one bit. He wasn’t the only one, though—she felt like she had been left out of a very large loop and was steadily becoming more annoyed about it.
Agatha was sitting on Helga's other side, expertly spinning her wheel and making her clay grow and shrink like a pro. The girl also glanced at Helga, her round eyes worried, then looked to Phoebe.
“Should we wake her?” Agatha whispered.
Phoebe wasn’t normally in support of sleeping through class, but the dark circles under Helga’s eyes swayed her. She shook her head.
So they let Helga sleep all through second period. Mrs. Juarez only came over once to say, "Poor mijita , she is so tired!" Then she walked away, clucking her tongue.
Helga woke a few minutes before the bell rang when a group of the other students gathered around Agatha. Agatha's vase had turned into a Grecian urn, complete with delicate engravings of grapes, cherubs, and doves. Mrs. Juarez and the class stood around Agatha as she carefully finished adding a girl in a toga with a jug of water, who Phoebe thought looked suspiciously like Helga.
The muse herself rubbed her face and looked around. "What time is it?" Helga asked.
"Almost time for class to end," Phoebe replied, wrapping her vase carefully with plastic so it wouldn't dry out.
"Seriously? Why didn't you wake me up?" Helga picked a piece of clay off her face.
"You looked tired."
Helga yawned and stretched every muscle and cracked every joint. By the time she was done, the rest of the class had cleaned up and everyone was standing around with their backpacks on, waiting for the bell to ring.
"Did you see what I made?" Agatha asked Helga.
"No, I didn't," Helga rubbed an eye. "Did you make something fancy?" Agatha nodded and Helga patted her on the head. "Neato. You can show me next time."
"You didn't make anything, Helga," Phoebe said, "and you won't have much time next class. What are you going to turn in?"
"Meh, I just figured I'd make one of those hand-bowl things we always made in elementary school for Mother's Day. You know, where you mold the clay like a bowl with your hand print in it?"
"I remember making those," Phoebe smiled. "My mother always put them on the coffee table with candy in them."
"My mom stacked them up under the couch leg when it broke, and the first time my dad sat on it they all shattered," Helga said.
"Oh! Ah ha ha…" Phoebe wasn't really sure if that was meant to be funny but she couldn't think of another response.
The bell finally went off and the art class spilled into the hallway with the rest of the student body. Phoebe immediately noticed Helga go on high-alert, carefully looking this way and that and placing herself safely in-between her two shorter friends. Sure enough, they had barely made it to the end of the art hall before Eugene suddenly fell into step beside them.
"Good morning, ladies," Eugene called cheerfully. "How are you all on this fine day?"
"Very well, thank you," Phoebe replied. Helga shrugged and Agatha looked at him like he was a creature she had never seen before.
"Fantastic, so glad to hear it," Eugene said. "I'm having a pretty good day myself, if I may say so. Getting all set up for the fall showcase. We're putting on a one-act and everything. Say, you haven't seen Arnold, have you?"
And there it was.
With the slightest of movements, Helga tensed. Phoebe narrowed her eyes suspiciously and answered, "Not recently. Why?"
"Oh, no big deal, really. Being the great guy that he is, he volunteered to help with the music and setting up. I told him we had it under control, but I seem to have broken my wrist by tripping over a mop bucket prop,” Eugene held up his arm, where a pink cast covered his hand, “so it turns out I could use his help after all. He's always got such creative ideas, don't you think?" Silence was the only response he got from the three girls. He fidgeted with his turtleneck collar at the tough crowd, then plowed on, "Well, pass along the message if you do run into him, won't you?" And he broke away from them, singing, "Goodnight, ladies! Goodnight, ladies! Goodnight, ladies, I'm going to leave you, now!" Then he was gone.
Phoebe heard Helga let out the smallest of sighs, and when Phoebe swung to face her she jumped.
"What?" Helga said.
"Nothing," Phoebe said, still looking at her.
"Yeah, well, Miss Nothin’, you look like you wanna say something. So what is it?"
"Nothing, really." Phoebe was being careful not to overstep her boundaries since she was still working her way back into Helga's trust, but after a moment she couldn't help saying, "It seems as though everyone keeps talking about Arnold. All the time. Why is that?"
Helga looked tired again. “What are you asking me for? He’s popular or something, right, so isn’t it normal?”
“He is…somewhat popular, I suppose," Phoebe said, aware that Helga’s view on Arnold’s popularity was skewed by her perception of him from when they were children. And if Helga hadn’t realized people were only mentioning him en masse when she was around, Phoebe didn’t want to point it out to her. Since Gerald was being evasive, Phoebe wanted to ask Arnold himself if he knew what was happening. But she had hardly spoken to him since his fight with Helga, even though he had apologized several times.
Agatha looked pensive, as if this was the first time it had come to her attention and she was really thinking about it.
"Maybe," Agatha began, "it just seems like everyone is talking about him. Since we're all currently mad at him, maybe we're more sensitive whenever he's brought up. Like when you hate a song and then it suddenly seems to be on the radio all the time, but it's not really on all the time, it only seems that way to you because you notice it more."
Phoebe looked at her, eyebrows raised. Helga patted Agatha and said, "I'm sure that's exactly it, Aggie."
Surprisingly, this actually made Helga relax somewhat. Phoebe, however, bit her lip. She felt like saying more, but again didn't want to overstep any trust boundaries again. Perhaps she would have to finally give up being mad at Arnold and approach him directly.
Helga was successfully avoiding Arnold, she was proud to say. Over the two weeks she had been at Hillwood High she had quickly become accustomed with his class schedule and the halls he frequented so that she wouldn't run into him. The problem with sitting behind him in the one class they had together had quickly been remedied once she decided to lie through her teeth to the teacher. She had bemoaned her nearsighted problem (a problem that didn't exist) and he’d said, "Oh, terrible plight, to be blind to the knowledge that flows from the projector! We must move you immediately." Then he had made a kid at the front of the class switch her seats. Now Arnold was (mostly) out of sight, and Helga could keep him out of mind.
Then of course, Helga had realized she was surrounded by him. Not physically, but verbally. It had started out rather slow and unnoticed, with the off-handed mention of him now and then by someone she knew, but had rapidly grown into her hearing his name nearly every second of the day. All the running away from it had made her tired.
The worst part about it was that it didn't really surprise her.
Arnold was Arnold. He was smart and kind and athletic and musical and good looking. Of course he was popular. Of course he had a lot of friends. Of course everyone would be talking about him.
Of course it ticked Helga off to no end.
She was still kind of mad at him. After thinking about it, she figured he hadn't been insensitive on purpose—he wasn't that kind of person. He must have brought up all that stuff about her family because he had been seriously concerned about her. It seemed he hadn't changed in that respect—no matter who it was, his class bully or a random girl he hadn’t seen in years, he was sympathetic to their plight. A fact which only made her mad again. She wished he had become a little jaded by sixteen, at least. He’d be more bearable then.
She welcomed, therefore, any distraction she could get. Such as Rhonda, who stopped Helga in front of her third period class with an enthusiastic proposition.
"It'll be fun!" Rhonda said. "And we could use another committee member from East Side High—this'll be our first event as a new combined student body, so we want you poor souls to feel like you belong!"
Helga looked down at the flier Rhonda had handed her. It read,
Halloween Dance for Guys and Ghouls alike!
Wear your best costume and come spend a haunting night with us.
Then there was a silhouette of a werewolf and a witch dancing.
"What's left to plan?" Helga asked. "It looks all set up to me."
Rhonda waved her hand. "No, no, this is just for hype. Nothing's really been decided except the date. And there's food and decorations and games and tickets and bands and venues and posters...there's loads to do."
Helga usually wasn't into the whole school spirit thing. Then again, she didn’t have basketball practice anymore, so maybe she needed a distraction. And with so much talk about so many lame things, she might get some freedom from hearing about Arnold for a while. "Yeah, all right. I guess I could do that," she said.
"Excellent. Thursday at lunch in the library, Helga. We've got just over a month and plenty to do. We'll be expecting you!" Then Rhonda flounced down the hall and out of sight.
Arnold pulled his cell phone out of his pocket when it vibrated at the beginning of third period. He opened it to see a text from Rhonda: Thursday, the library, lunch time. Be there. I've signed you up for the dance committee. You can thank me later. ;)
He sighed. "What? A committee? Rhonda, I don't have time for that..."
He slid the phone into its home in his worn out jeans and went back to listening to his math teacher with a glazed look. He wasn't really focused on what the teacher was saying at all, and his nasally voice didn't help any. Rather, Arnold was thinking about what was about to happen during lunch and was watching the clock tick by with anticipation.
It was finally the day they were going to put Arnold's secret plan into action, a plan that had been nearly a week in the making. Only two people had been told this plan—Gerald and Stinky—because it involved something only they were related to: basketball.
He didn't for a second believe that Helga was as fine with being cut from the team as she would have everyone believe. He felt like a real jerk for his lame attempt at talking to her about it last week. So he had determined to, using any means necessary, get her reinstated on the team.
Steadily and subtly over the last week, Arnold and his accomplices had carefully suggested to Coach Beezus that the East Siders were desperately needed on the team. Strategies that had always worked before now no longer worked for "some reason" (since one of them secretly sabotaged it every time). At the end of practice, when the rest of the team would dejected from being yelled at by Beezus for two and a half hours, one of them would say, "Man, I wish we had some new plays. What was that play that Moze did for the championship last fall? If only we knew that one."
Or, "I saw Teri and Lenny durin' lunch. Whoo-ee, you should'a seen them poundin' pavement! Teri's got a right hook shot like you wouldn't believe! Even better than Harv, no offense, Harv, but he sure has!"
Since most of it was true, it didn't take long for the feelings to spread throughout the rest of the team. Arnold and Stinky focused on the J.V. boys, and Gerald focused on the Varsity team, and after ten days they barely had to do any work. The other boys were the ones who had become completely convinced that everything would have been better if only the East Siders had stayed.
The evidence that they had done their job well came when, two days ago, both the J.V. and Varsity teams had lost their exhibition games against the high school from the next town over. They were only practice matches, and they wouldn't affect their entering the playoffs, but it was not how any proud Hedgehog wanted to start off the season. On the bus ride home, the dejected team was forced to listen to Beezus's disappointed rant. When he paused for breath, there was nothing to stop the whole team from hearing someone say, "If the Eagles had been here we would of won." Everyone had nodded, and then Beezus had replied, "Yeah, yeah, but they aren't here." And he had sat down and not said another word. Arnold, Gerald, and Stinky, shared silent fist bumps. It had worked. Beezus was ripe for the picking.
And what was happening today was (hopefully) what would officially win the coach over, and with him, Helga.
Arnold’s math teacher finished his lecture and gave the students the last fifteen minutes to work on the homework. Arnold had his text book out and was about to start pretending he was working on the assignment when Phoebe suddenly pulled up a chair and sat at his desk with him. She was the teacher's assistant during this period and often helped out with homework, so it was never suspicious when she spent time at a student's desk.
She sat, still as a stone, with her hands folded on Arnold's desk. She just looked at him. It had been a while since she had paid him any attention, but he knew he deserved the silent treatment after getting her in trouble with Helga. Now he immediately took this opportunity to apologize again.
He said, "Hey, Phoebe, I know you're still mad about...that thing. Just know I'm really sorry. I never in a million years meant for it to blow up like that."
She sighed. "I know you didn't." Then she resumed her stony look. "So why are you suddenly so very popular? It doesn't have anything to do with Helga, does it?"
"Uhhh..." Trust Phoebe to get straight to the point. He knew she would figure it out eventually—Phoebe was too smart to be fooled for long. "In a way," he said.
"In what way? What is it all you guys are up to?"
Arnold sighed and put down his pencil. He wasn't opposed to telling the truth to Phoebe. They were friends, sure, and Arnold knew that Phoebe had found in him a very nice outlet for talking about her life. When Helga moved, Phoebe would talk to him about her, and after that Phoebe sometimes sought him out in hopes of him hearing out all her own problems. But this wasn't about all her other problems. This was about their original topic, and Arnold had always been the listener before. It felt strange to be the one with something to say about Helga.
He tapped his pencil in a quick rhythm, pursing his lips. Then he stopped and leaned forward. "Ok, you know all those times when you told me about Helga? Like what she was up to and stuff? And that one time a while back we talked about what if everyone else could see her now, and how they'd be so surprised?"
Phoebe nodded.
"Right. So when you told me she'd be coming to school here, I thought, great! I'd like to see this new Helga. I was kind of looking forward to it. But then she came, and not only are we not friends, she doesn't even like me. So, I thought maybe she still remembers me from when we were kids and she didn't always like me, but then I said those dumb things that offended her, so now she really hates me. The thing is, none of it is really me . I just feel like she kind of got the wrong impression, so I wanted to give a better one. I would have gone about it in the normal way, like going up and talking to her, but, come on, this is Helga we're talking about. Normal doesn't reach her. She would have avoided me or told me to bug off or something."
Phoebe listened quietly. When he finished she tapped her chin and said, "So...you wanted to be friends with Helga?" He shrugged. "But Helga doesn't like you." He nodded. "So...you got everyone to talk about you all the time?"
He winced. Even he was having a hard time being talked about in the halls all the time. More than one person he had seen talking to Helga had then given him a big thumbs up, and he had been forced to grab them and swing them around the corner before she could notice. Outside of his old classmates, he doubted any of the students knew why they were really doing it—they had just caught on to the fad and jumped on board.
"That was mostly an accident,” he admitted to Phoebe, running his fingers through his hair. “A couple of our friends said they’d help, but it seems to have spread. It started with Rhonda."
Phoebe’s eyebrows raised in understanding. "Ah. But why didn't you tell me, then? Helga is one of my best friends, after all."
"I might have, but at the time you were mad at me and I knew you would have gone straight to Helga and told her and then she would have been even more mad at me."
"...Yes. Probably. I was very angry with you."
"Again, sorry."
They looked at each other, not saying anything.
"So," Arnold began hopefully, "do you think it's working?"
Phoebe pushed up her glasses, looking less stony and more invested now. "Hmm. I'm not sure. Perhaps tone it down a little—I think it's stressing her out."
He snorted. "Yeah, that's not hard to imagine. I'll try to get Rhonda to calm down her minions."
"Arnold…" Phoebe paused, and Arnold waited. "Do you...like Helga?"
"Well yeah, sure."
"I mean, do you like like Helga?"
The question caught him off guard. "No, I don't. Why would you say that?"
Phoebe shook her head. "Never mind."
"You won't tell Helga about this, right?"
She gave him a sidelong look. "For now."
Then she smiled, and Arnold smiled back.
Math ended and lunch began. Arnold, with Phoebe on his heels, quickly made his way to where he was supposed to meet Gerald. Gerald was ecstatic to see Arnold and Phoebe getting along again and he put an arm around both of them as they headed outside to the basketball court on the asphalt outside.
They paused in the entrance hall when Arnold saw something out of the corner of his eye.
"What is that?" he asked, stopping and staring at a poster on the wall. Gerald and Phoebe came closer.
"It's you," Gerald answered.
On the poster, an 8x11 glossy sheet, was a picture of Arnold, smiling at the camera. It was a picture from last summer, and Gerald, Sid, Harold, and Eugene were supposed to be beside him with ice creams. Instead, it had been cropped around Arnold, with a summer tan and wearing an orange button up short sleeve shirt. A blue snow cone was in his hand.
Underneath this bizarre out of place picture was the caption, How could you dislike a face like this?
The three stared at it. After a second, Arnold snatched the poster from the wall and crumpled it up. Then he looked around.
"Oh no..." he groaned.
Every five feet down the hallway hung another poster. At the end of the line of pictures they saw the culprits. Nadine held a stack of posters while Sid took them from her one at a time to carefully tape on the wall.
"Sid!" Arnold said as they caught up with him. Sid and Nadine turned and gave them wide smiles.
"Hey, dude! Did you see the awesome posters I got made up?" Sid asked.
"Didn't I ask you not to make posters? What about this is subtle?" Arnold demanded, gesturing wildly down the line of his faces.
"Are you kidding me, this is genius! What better cover for our secret operation, S.G.H.L.A.?"
"Sgihla?" Gerald repeated.
"It's an acronym," Nadine explained. "Stands for Subtly Getting Helga to Like Arnold ."
Arnold shushed them, glancing around at the other students passing by. He said in a quieter voice, "Again, how is this subtle?"
"How is it not?" Sid said, spreading his arms. His shirt was bright purple with a cat with sunglasses. Sid had never known the meaning of subtle. He said, "This way, Helga won't know it's directed at her. It's like those presidential commercials with the subliminal messages. Before you know it, she'll be shovin' her way to the front of the line to have you kiss her baby!"
Arnold gaped at him and Gerald said, "What on Earth are you talking about, dude?"
"The elections, obviously," Nadine added helpfully, pointing to the stack of posters she held. "Since Arnold's been nominated for Sophomore class president."
"Me?" Arnold exclaimed.
"Oh my goodness," Phoebe piped up. "I thought I heard them say your name during announcements this morning. I just thought I heard them wrong. Didn't you hear it?"
Arnold and Gerald shook their heads. They had been too busy talking about how the basketball thing was going to go down at lunch to pay attention to the broken intercom.
"Well, they did!" Nadine said. "They announced you, Eugene Horowitz, and Lila Sawyer. Isn’t that great?"
Arnold's jaw dropped. "Eugene and Lila? I can't run against them!"
Eugene was popular enough to be a threat by himself, but add the adorable and wicked smart Lila to the mix and that was an impossible duo to run against. Lila herself was rarely seen with the Sophomore class, since (like Phoebe) she had mostly honors classes and was constantly surrounded by Junior and Senior boys.
"No worries, dude!" Sid slapped Arnold on the shoulder. "I've taken it upon myself to be your campaign manager. We got this election in the bag. Helga will be so totally impressed."
"But I thought we already did the elections in August," Gerald said. "Isn't it kinda late in the term to start now?"
"We were going to hold them in August a few weeks after school started," Phoebe said. "But when East Side High burned down and there was rumors some of them might come here, we postponed it so that we could include them. We thought it would be fair to have them be a part of the process."
Arnold pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't really know what to think about all this, but he also didn't have a whole lot of time to consider it. The more time they spent talking, the more time they were wasting. "Ok, ok. We'll talk about this later. Just...don't do anything obvious. And don't make any more posters!"
They left Nadine and Sid, who resumed hanging up more posters. As they made their way to the blacktop court, Gerald asked, "Are you actually gonna run for class president?"
Arnold sighed. "I don't know, I never even thought about it. I might not have time, what with basketball practice, and then the dance committee..."
"Dance committee? How'd you get roped into that?"
"Rhonda."
"Ah. How else."
They stopped between the tether-ball poles and skate ramp. Ahead of them was the basketball court, where a bunch of guys were playing back and forth, not really abiding by any rules. Stinky was standing near the players, and when he saw Arnold and Gerald he nodded. They nodded back.
Sitting against the school wall in the shade was Helga and her friends, eating lunch. Across the concrete, near the picnic tables, Moze sat with a group of Seniors, including the basketball captain, Itchy.
"Ready?" Gerald asked, rolling his sweatshirt sleeves up.
"Yep," Arnold said.
"What's going on?" Phoebe asked.
"You’re about to see a great show, Phoebe," Gerald said, then nodded in Helga's direction. "Why don’t you wait with Helga? You'll see what's up in a minute."
With a last curious glance at Arnold and Gerald, Phoebe walked toward Helga and her friends. Arnold and Gerald gave each other a smirk and a nod. Then they made their way to Stinky, directly next to Wolfgang and his friends, who were playing on the court.
"Hey, Wolfgang!" Arnold called loudly.
Wolfgang paused from wrestling the ball from his friend and sneered. "Well, if it isn't my favorite dork! Why don't you get on the court, we'll play some three on three. Promise not to make you cry too hard." He elbowed one of his friends and the other boys sniggered.
"Well, thanks for asking, but, nah!" Arnold shook his head.
"Come on, don't be such a sissy. I thought you were just a girl, I didn't know you were also a chicken!" Wolfgang flapped his elbows and made clucking noises.
Arnold snorted. Any other day he would have been on that court in a second, wiping the floor with Wolfgang's butt. Today, however, he had a different goal.
Arnold shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "Well, I just don't feel like playing in front of those East Siders. They love making fun of us when we play out here."
This wasn't true in the slightest, but it caught Wolfgang's attention. His face scrunched up. "Wha?"
"Yeah, you know." Arnold jerked a thumb in Helga's direction. "Those guys. They say watching us try to play basketball is like watching old ladies fight over prunes at the supermarket."
"Old ladies?" Wolfgang's nostrils flared.
"Yep," Arnold said, "little old ladies. At the supermarket."
Gerald said, " I heard them say they were glad they didn't get stuck on our team, because we probably would have just embarrassed them."
Stinky pretended to look appalled. "Well, my lanta, that's just more ridiculous than pea pods and bacon!" He crossed his arms. "I'm not so sure they should get away with that kinda talk, are you, vice captain?"
Arnold shook his head and hammed it up, "But what can we do ? They're right, aren't they?"
"Oh hell no they're not!" Wolfgang stomped off the court. He shouldered Arnold on his way past. "You call yourself a Hedgehog? You don't deserve the name, coward!"
Wolfgang, his friends towering behind him, crossed the blacktop, shoving other kids out of their way, and headed straight towards Helga and her friends.
Gerald snickered. "That was way easier than I thought."
Arnold smirked. "Told ya."
"Don't celebrate just yet, fellas," Stinky said. "Ya can't count your chickens before they hatch."
Arnold wasn’t worried. His chicken would hatch.
Helga looked up disbelievingly at the big stupid ox in front of her. "Come again?" she said.
"You heard me, ugly," Wolfgang retorted, hands on his hips. "I'm challenging you guys. Us against you. Then we'll see who the old ladies at the supermarket are."
Helga looked at Teri, who shrugged. Lenny said, "Old ladies at which supermarket?" Agatha and Phoebe merely blinked up at the huge guys standing over them.
"So, wait. You wanna play us at basketball?" Teri tried to clarify.
"Only if you're not too scared." Wolfgang tossed his ball at Teri's head, which Teri caught before it hit him. Slowly a grin spread across Teri's face, which he shared with Helga and Lenny.
Helga chuckled at the glint in Teri's eye. It was a look she knew well. One that had made her think he was worth being friends with him in the first place. She said, "All right, putz head. Bring it on."
They stood and the whole group carved a path back towards the court, Agatha and Phoebe behind them. She spotted Arnold, as she always did, even from a distance, under the nearest hoop. He gave Gerald a high five before jogging towards the school. She watched him go, wondering where he was going alone, but glad he wasn’t hanging around.
Wolfgang shouted, "Guess Shortman really is a coward. Johanssen! Harv! You're in. The rest of you, you're out."
Wolfgang's friends glared at him as all but one left the court. Harv, apparently. Then Gerald sauntered forward smugly. Agatha and Phoebe joined the spectators on the side.
"All right," Wolfgang said when they circled around center court. "We play ‘til the bell. Normal rules. Whoever has the most points by the end wins."
Teri, who was a year older than the rest of them and had been on the Eagles' Varsity team (while Helga and Lenny were J.V.) spoke for his little rag-tag team, "Fair enough, I guess."
The circle broke. Teri shared a smile with Helga. Lenny was already in position, hands on his knees, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. He had started singing to himself a song Helga had heard him sing before every game, "Everybody get up, it's time to slam now, we got a real jam goin' down, welcome to the Space Jaaam! All right!"
Teri took his place at center, unbuttoning the top button of his white shirt that he always wore beneath a blue sweater vest. His khakis and dress shoes were also always nice, but Helga knew they wouldn’t slow Teri down. He was big and heavy and nicely dressed, and Helga smirked at the thought of how Wolfgang must be underestimating him.
Helga unzipped her sweatshirt and slid it off, leaving her layered white and pink tank tops, and walked back to Phoebe and Agatha. Agatha had been to watch every practice the Eagles had ever had, and Phoebe had been to Helga’s games once in a while. Neither of them looked worried by the lineup.
“Hold this, ladies,” Helga said. “I’ll be back shortly.” She dropped her sweatshirt over Agatha’s head, which would provide her sensitive pale skin some protection from the sun while she watched. Agatha still couldn’t remember all the rules to the game, but Helga admired that she was a real ride or die and wouldn’t leave courtside until her friends were done.
Agatha pumped her little fist at Helga and Phoebe said coolly, “Kick their asses, Helga.”
Helga snorted, always amused when Phoebe swore. “Ass kicking commencing now, Phebes.”
Helga took her place behind Teri’s left side. She could tell Teri and Lenny were itching with anticipation after being off the court for so long. She was too, actually. It had been weeks since they had played together; with the sun shining down on their backs she felt all the muscle memory tensing up in her legs. The adrenaline that always gave her a rush before a game was speeding through her veins.
This was an outlet Helga needed after days of stress over a dumb boy. Right now, she was a fighter. She was a hunter. She was a winner. She was nothing but muscle and blood and confidence.
She leaned forward, ready to spring as soon as Stinky tossed the ball in. Gerald was standing center on his own team, with Wolfgang opposite Lenny, and Harv across from Helga. She looked haughtily at Harv, who seemed more meat than brains. Her favorite kind of stupid opponent.
Stinky held the ball in between Teri and Gerald. "Ready?"
Teri, unnoticed by anyone but Helga, gave her a quick wink over the shoulder. She inched forward ever so slightly, which drew Gerald's eyes to her briefly. She took her chance, winking flirtatiously and blowing a kiss. Gerald immediately looked taken aback, and it was just enough of a distraction that he was late jumping for the ball. Teri snagged it out of the air, and the stillness on the court broke. Both teams rushed forward and the sound of the ball hitting pavement echoed across the blacktop.
The East Siders jumped easily back into their usual game, despite so little practice the last few weeks. Soon they were darting in and out of the other players, tossing the ball back and forth, and reading each other's movements like they'd always done. It was only a matter of minutes before Teri, with his legendary right hand lay up, made the first basket. His heavy girth landed back on the ground and the quake of it could be felt all the way to the spectators on the side.
"Lucky shot!" was all Wolfgang said. Their second point, Lenny slam-dunked the ball, hanging off the hoop. On the jog back to his own side, Stinky (the only other boy in school over six-foot-five) high fived him in a moment of tall-male-bonding.
They began again, the Hedgehogs stepping it up a notch and pushing back the Eagles until they made one, and then two shots; the first an excellent bank shot by Gerald, the other by Wolfgang, in a raging fit of anger stampeding down the court. Helga guffawed at Wolfgang's wild violence that bent the basketball hoop, and Teri looked like he was having the time of his life. Lenny said jubilantly in an aside to his teammates, "Ooh, it's gettin' hot up in here! Looks like we'll have to bring out our real game."
And they did. The two teams clashed, both determined to break the tie in their favor. The Eagles had the ball, and Wolfgang was getting irritated enough that he was beginning to fudge the lines on the rules. He stomped hard on Lenny's little foot, who cried out and dropped the ball. Wolfgang snagged it, and Helga broke free of Harv's annoying blocking and shouldered Wolfgang in the side hard before he had the chance to take a shot at the basket.
"Foul!" Stinky called, pointing at Helga. “Keep it clean, Pataki!”
Helga shrugged innocently at him.
Wolfgang spun on Helga, looming over her with his nose nearly touching hers. "Stay out of the way, little girl."
"What's the problem, ugly?" She poked him in the belly. "Is playing with the big kids too hard for you?" Then she flounced back into position.
The players ran back and forth down the court, the ball passing from one side to the other. At last they ended up beneath the Hedgehog's hoop, Teri with the ball. Gerald was making it impossible for Teri to take a shot, completely blocking him at every turn. Wolfgang was doing the same to Lenny, effectively keeping him from coming to Teri's aid, and Harv was annoyingly all up in Helga's face. This went on for a while, all shoulders and elbows and grunts, until Teri caught Helga's eye. He jerked his chin back toward center court and she nodded. She managed to lose Harv by backing away. Lenny, quickly catching on, forced his way to Teri and helped clear enough room for Teri to pass him the ball. He dribbled it toward the hoop, as if he were about to try and dunk it again, all three Hedgehogs running to stop him. Right when they were about to surround him and make it impossible for him to reach the hoop, Lenny tossed the ball high over his shoulder.
Helga, who was completely unguarded, caught it, and dribbled it in the opposite direction, stopping at center court. Hillwood High was crappy for many reasons, but Helga had to give them their props where they were due—they were serious about their sports. Like the inside court, the outside court had been made up to NBA standard. Not perfect for the intramural kids to goof around on, Helga thought, but it was long and wide and perfect for a real player to show off. Helga turned around and faced the hoop, taking a deep breath. She bounced the ball once, then tossed it toward the hoop in a long arc. It went in without even hitting the rim. The Hedgehogs swung round to stare at her with open mouths.
"Well, slap me silly. A perfect center court shot," Stinky said a few feet away.
"Is that good?" Agatha asked. Stinky only laughed. The few spectators who had gathered clapped and whistled.
Helga looked Wolfgang straight in the eye and said, "Swish."
The bell rang.
Teri and Lenny high fived Helga. "Nice one, Pataks," Teri said, not a drop of sweat staining his white shirt or glistening on his head.
"That one never fails," Lenny kissed his lucky baseball card that hung around his neck.
Gerald sauntered over, sweat dripping down his face, grinning widely. "Nice game! That was a bold move, Helga.”
"Thanks, Geraldo. You’re just as good a player as Phoebe said. Respect," Helga said.
Gerald blushed, hiding it by wiping his face on the inside collar of his shirt.
Teri turned to him, bright eyed. "That three pointer you made was excellent . You've got some of the quickest feet I've ever seen."
"Well, I do try." Gerald fist bumped him.
Agatha and Phoebe raced over in excitement and Stinky and Lenny began comparing shoe sizes. Helga was smirking proudly at the success of her team when she noticed another group headed towards them. It was Coach Beezus, flanked on either side by the basketball captains, Itchy and Moze, and behind them a step, with his hands in his pockets and a little smile, was Arnold.
Beezus stopped in front of the group with a begrudged, "Hmph. Good job, all you." He glanced over at Wolfgang and Harv, who were glaring at the Eagles in shame.
"Uh, thanks," Teri said in response. Moze crossed to his team, clapping them all proudly on the shoulders and praising their playing.
“Ladybird,” he said when he got to Helga. It was his usual nickname for Helga when she was doing a good job representing the Eagles. “Good shot.”
“I learned it from the best, el Capitano,” she replied.
Moze stood beside them, crossing his arms at Beezus.
"Well," Beezus crossed his hairy arms and scowled.
Itchy elbowed him to egg him on. “Come on, coach.”
Beezus begrudgingly continued. "I...think we could learn a lot from you. If you'd still like to join the team." They stared at him. Then everyone looked at Helga. Itchy elbowed the man again and Beezus grunted, "Her too."
The boys all grinned and slapped her on the back and Moze excitedly walked back to the school with Itchy, already talking strategy. Beezus turned without another word and stalked back, probably to torment the Freshmen P.E. class he had that period. Helga watched him go with a half laugh.
Arnold joined the group lingering on the court, and Helga shrunk back, suddenly aware of how sweaty she was. She wiped sweat from her face onto her forearm, wondering if her hair was wild.
"Good game, guys," Arnold said. "That was some slam dunk, Lenny."
"All thanks to these babies," Lenny stretched a long leg and patted it.
Gerald shouldered Arnold. "So, I see you got Beezus out here on time."
"Did you bring him out here?" Teri asked. Helga listened carefully, pretending like she wasn't.
Arnold shrugged. "Sure. Figured it was a shame you guys didn't even get a chance to show what you could do before Beezus practically kicked you out." Helga glanced up at him and he was looking at her. She turned away.
The group moved toward the school as one, and Phoebe and Agatha sidled up on either side of Helga, away from all the boys. Agatha handed back her sweatshirt and Helga tied it around her waist.
"Gee," Phoebe said casually. "That sure was nice of Arnold, don't you think, Agatha?"
"Oh, yes," Agatha nodded enthusiastically.
"He probably went to a lot of trouble, huh?"
Agatha nodded again.
“Maybe we should accept his apology and give him a second chance.”
Helga raised an eyebrow down at Phoebe.
Phoebe gave her an innocent, one shoulder shrug. "I was just saying."
Helga rolled her eyes. But as they entered the school, her eyes slid toward Arnold, who was deep in conversation with the guys about upcoming basketball games. Annoying, she thought, wiping sweat from her face again, her cheeks pink.
Later that day, as the early autumn sun was drifting lower and lower in the sky, Helga went back out to the outside court. She had come from her and the Eagle's first practice and had changed back into school clothes, but she didn't feel like going home yet. Moze let her borrow his basketball when she asked for it, and she sent Teri and Lenny home on the bus ahead of her. She’d take the city bus when she was ready. She needed time to herself.
She dribbled the ball and wandered back and forth, making a shot from one side, lazily walking after the ball when it rolled away, making another shot from there. It was a mindless exercise, and left plenty of room in her head for her to think about other things.
Practice had gone fine. And by fine, she meant horribly. She hoped no one else had noticed how completely scatterbrained she had been, but knew that was wishful thinking. She had spent the whole three hours dropping the ball, traveling with it, tripping over her teammates, and running the wrong direction up the court. The boys probably thought she had never played basketball a day in her life and the coach must have been seriously reconsidering his decision to take her back. She had been horribly embarrassed, and being embarrassed only ticked her off, making her snap at whoever was closest. She had completely lost her cool, and she knew exactly why.
"Stupid football head," she muttered aloud, tossing the ball in the hoop.
She had felt herself slipping even before she had arrived at practice. It was all his fault. He had been all chivalrous and gallant, getting the Eagles back on the team, making her friends so happy. She had blushed and coughed and not said a word to him after lunch when he walked with her to the class they had together. Then she sat at the front of the class, and tried to pay attention, until Arnold raised his hand and answered a question. Then she had sighed and thought, He's so smart. To hide the sigh, she had said out loud to the kid next to her, "What a show off, right?"
Then she had gasped at herself, mortified. No! She had thought defiantly, How am I turning into that girl again? If I'm not careful, I'll get lost.
Then, at practice, she had gotten lost. They were on the same team; that would mean months of close quarter contact. Even when he wasn't in her line of sight, she knew he was there, watching. She had tried to focus on the ball, on the game, on anything else. But she couldn't. She had only ended up embarrassed and acting like a fool. And it made her even more annoyed when he would smile and say, "Good try! You'll get it," as if it wasn't his fault. She had wound up her arm to chuck the ball at the back of his head, but stopped herself when she realized what she was doing.
By the end of practice she had come to a decision. Coach Beezus had been shocked and furious when she told him in his office that she didn't think she was up for being on the team.
She told herself that it was because the coach had put her on second string, that he yelled at her when she messed up, that she didn't have time for basketball, that she had decided it wasn't fun anymore, that she really didn't care. She wished it wasn't really because she was a ridiculous teenage girl who was going to dramatic measures to avoid a teenage boy, but in all honesty, that's what it was. How embarrassing.
She had enjoyed basketball, sure, but it definitely wasn't worth the loss of her entire personality. It was better that she stay away until she was able to stabilize herself. It's a sacrifice for the better , she thought. There were plenty of other sports and clubs to try. Ones that didn't have blonds with calm green eyes to distract you.
She was so lost in the rhythm of dribble dribble shoot , that she didn't notice her spectator until the ball went astray and he picked it up.
"Hey," Arnold said. She looked back at him blankly, not sure if he was really there for a moment. He was standing by the chain-link fence that surrounded the whole school, where a man-sized hole had been cut into it. Arnold must have ducked through from the outside without her noticing.
As she stared, he dropped his books by the fence. He tossed the ball to her, which she caught by reflex. He stood under the hoop. "Go ahead."
Her first thought was, Run away! But as usual, her body revolted against whatever she wanted and now she found her feet cemented to the asphalt. She absently tossed the ball toward the basket and, somewhat to her surprise, it went in. Arnold caught it as it came back down.
"Good shot." He tossed the ball back to her. She bounced it once, and shot again.
"What are you doing here?" was all she could think to ask.
"I had an errand to run for my Grandpa down the road before I went home. When I was walking back to the bus stop I saw you out here." He dribbled the ball a couple times before chucking it back to her. "What are you doing here?"
She shrugged and said, "Shooting hoops," which she accented by making another basket. Like butter. Where was that talent all of practice when she needed it? Why was she so inconsistent?
"I can see that." He smiled and bounced the ball back to her. He stopped smiling. "I heard Coach ranting up a storm in his office when I left. Helga, did you tell Coach Beezus you didn't want to be on the team?"
Helga twisted the ball in her hands before preparing to shoot. "Maybe." The ball bounced off the rim and didn't go in. Arnold caught it and held onto it until she looked at him fully.
"Why?" he asked.
She was trying to be cool and look him in the eye without actually looking him in the eye. "It's not my thing," she said.
He frowned. "I thought you liked basketball."
"I do. It's just...not my thing. I'm done with it."
"What about everything you went through at East Side? All that stuff the coach had to do with the district to get you on the team?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you know about that, too, huh? Is there anything you don't know?"
He bounced the ball, looking guilty. "Listen, I didn't mean to pry, ok? And Phoebe never meant to betray your trust. She probably didn't think there was anything wrong with telling me—you and I used to be friends, and sometimes I'd ask how you were doing and she'd tell me. That's all."
Helga looked at him. …used to be friends... Was that how he remembered it? Ha. What rosey glasses he remembered their past through. "I know you didn't mean to. You’re a nice guy. And I know Phoebe didn’t do anything wrong, really. I’m not mad." Then she was silent, and hoped he would be happy with that and go away.
He didn't go away. "So you're really 'done' with basketball?"
"My parents are ok with it, if that's what you're after," she said dryly.
"No, that's not it at all! I just wanted to make sure you're ok with it."
She shrugged. "Yeah. I was never really that great at it, anyway. I mean, I'm a decent shot, but I’m not destined for any professional career. Really the biggest reason my old coach liked me was because I was so aggressive."
He gave a little snort that may have been a chuckle and tossed her the ball. "You were always good at that." He gave her a crooked smile.
She swallowed, and avoided his gaze again, focusing instead on the ball as she tossed it at the hoop.
"When I heard you'd joined the basketball team, I was actually pretty surprised. I never knew you even played basketball that much," Arnold said.
She didn't respond and merely caught the ball when he bounced it back to her again. I didn't used to, she thought.
She had picked up the sport shortly after moving. She had found herself stuck in her family's new house, with no friends and nothing to do but think about Arnold and whether or not he missed her yet (which she was sure he never did). It had started to make her stir crazy. There was a baseball diamond a couple blocks over, but she didn't have anyone to play with in her new neighborhood. So one day she took a basketball from her dad's room and went down to the small court in the alley and started shooting hoops. Turned out it was a decent distraction, so she started doing it whenever she was trying to get her mind off Arnold. Which happened to be a lot. As a result, she became quite good. When she had made it on the team through a freak happenstance during P.E., where the boy’s coach had witnessed her trick shot, she had found a team again. Lenny and Teri came over to shoot hoops often after that.
There was no way she was explaining all of that to him, though.
"Meh," she said, dribbling the ball from one hand to the other, letting herself enjoy the feeling of the ball in her hands. "It’s a good time. I always preferred baseball, though. Don’t tell Teri and Len."
"Yeah?" he smiled. "Me, too. Baseball was always our old neighborhood sport, huh?"
"Yeah."
Then they had run out of things to say. She hoped now he would get bored and go away but he seemed to be perfectly content to stand there, silent. With him just staring at her she began to get more and more anxious.
Get out of here before you do something stupid, she told herself.
She was about to make up an excuse for leaving (or turn around and make a run for it) when she heard Arnold's cell phone ring faintly. He pulled it out and glanced at it with a sigh. Helga aimed the ball at the hoop, pretending she wasn't paying attention.
"It's Rhonda," he explained out loud, although she hadn't asked. "She signed me up for this dance committee, for some reason. Apparently they changed the meeting time."
Helga's shot swung unexpectedly wide and Arnold had to chase after it. Dance committee? She inwardly raged, you have got to be kidding me! The same one I'm on? She suddenly imagined every violent thing she could do to Rhonda and have it still be legal. I gave up basketball so I could get away from him! Had her sacrifice been made in complete vain? Evidently so. She could feel her stomach sinking. I don't believe this...ok, ok, calm down. What's the bright side? He was walking back to her now, and not stopping under the hoop but coming all the way. Her anxiety grew with her rapid heartbeat. Dammit! There is no bright side! I'm stuck with him!
Her brain was whirling around so fast she didn't notice she was glaring at him intensely.
"You ok?" he asked, stopping in front of her. "It wasn't that bad of a shot."
She took the ball from him, more roughly than she meant to. "Yeah. I'm fine." Why? Why me? What did I ever do to you, Universe? What have you against me, Fortuna? Why are you set on witnessing my torture? "I have to go," she said.
"Uh, ok," he replied.
She turned and began walking to where she had left her stuff, squeezing her eyes shut as soon as he couldn't see her face. I'm trying so hard! Why can't I beat this?
Having him around messed her up. He always had, but over the years of his absence she had become desensitized to him. She had learned to live without him, and had found normality wasn't bad. It consisted of a lot less stress and heartbreak, that was for sure. It seemed, however, that as soon as he was back in her life, normal jumped out the window, head first. Her attempts at staying away from him had been an ill fated attempt to protect herself. From heartbreak. From jealousy. From insecurity. From the inadvertent anger that popped out of her to hide those things.
But what now? Was she just going to quit everything that she did in order to avoid him? How was that any better for her?
What can I do? She could give in. Just act the way she used to. Obsess over him. Hate him for never loving her back. I can't do that again. I don't want to pine after him while he goes on with his normal life. It isn't fair.
She reached her stuff and stopped, looking down at it defiantly.
No. I won't do that. Criminy, I'm Helga Geraldine Pataki. Queen bee. The Ladybird. I am WOMAN. I can't avoid him. And I can't revert back to a child.
I'll just have to learn to live with him.
She refused to let him, a boy who didn't even notice or care that he was messing with her head, control her life. Despair ebbed and pride started filling her chest again. She picked up her bag.
There was one thing she hadn't tried yet—being a normal, friendly, polite acquaintance.
Bring it on, Universe. I can take you. No way I'm letting you win. I'm going to co-exist with him, as a polite acquaintance. I will not break down. I will not lash out. And I will not obsess.
She straightened and turned toward Arnold. There was her opponent. There was her enemy. She would not let him win.
She smiled. "See you tomorrow, Arnold."
Then she ducked through the hole in the fence and took confident strides down the sidewalk to the bus stop. I'm gonna be the best polite acquaintance he's ever had. She laughed out loud, and it only sounded a little crazy.
Arnold watched Helga go from the court. He watched her through the fence all the way to the corner, where she turned out of sight. The sun was turning the sky orange. He figured he would miss the city bus home if he didn't hurry. He thought his grandparents might start to wonder where he was. But he didn't move.
Something was different. He could feel it. Maybe he had felt it before, but hadn't paid it any attention. What was it? He thought back to only seconds ago, when Helga had smiled at him. Not smirked, but smiled. He liked the way the skin around her eyes crinkled when she smiled. He wished she would smile more.
He thought back to previous conversations he'd had with Phoebe about Helga. He thought about how hearing stories about her always made him laugh. He remembered a story from a few years ago, when Helga was thirteen. Outside her Junior High had been an old statue of the woman who founded the school, which was chipped and covered in graffiti. It was no big shock when they announced they were going to tear it down. Helga, for some unknown reason, had decided she liked the statue, and that it shouldn't be torn down. According to Phoebe, the night before it was supposed to be demolished Helga had snuck out and chained herself to its leg. Arnold could easily picture her leaning against it the next morning when everyone found her, her classic "try me and you’ll regret it" look on her face. The police had come to cut her off, and she had bitten one on the arm. Upon hearing the story retold by Phoebe, Arnold had laughed so hard at the image of Helga fighting off the police single handedly that he had practically cried. He remembered how fiery and strong and secretly kind she had always been, and was only beginning to comprehend why she might have tried to hide it. He found he had missed Helga when she had moved away, and the more stories he had heard the more he thought it would be fun to see her again.
By the time he found out she was transferring back, he had heard so much about her it felt as if he had still been growing up beside her all along. When she had stood at the front of his class it had seemed completely natural to him that she was there. Then she had avoided him, and he had felt in his bones that couldn't be right. The decision to find a way to make her like him was even more odd, yet he had been so serious about it and hadn’t considered she might not want to be his friend. That wasn't like him.
He thought back to earlier that day and the conversation he'd had with Phoebe. Do you…like Helga?
The image of her smiling at him just now, and walking away in front of the setting sun that made her blonde hair seem pink. Helga, finally in front of him, bright and warm and impossible.
It had come on subtly. Alarmingly subtly. It had happened before he had realized it could happen, and most of it while she wasn't even around. Was that even possible?
Do you like like Helga?
Yep.
Apparently it was possible.
"Huh," he said aloud, "I might be in trouble."
There was no response from the silent world around him. The sun ignored him and kept on setting, the clouds the same shade of gold and pink as Helga’s hair had been moments ago. After a few minutes in the stunned silence, Arnold slid his hands into his pockets. He felt a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"...Maybe I don't mind trouble."
Chapter 4: Seriously Misplaced Sympathy
Chapter Text
The first Monday in October was unusually bleak. The red leaves fell like rain and everyone on the street was bundled up in sweaters as they made their way to school and work. Arnold himself wore an oversized blue corduroy jacket and a gray cable knit sweater. On his way out the door, his grandmother, dressed as Jack Skellington, had put a scarf around his neck. The scarf had faded to dusty pink after an accidental tumble in the laundry with the whites. Several of the Sunset Arms residents had pink socks and underwear since then. Over the weekend the weather seemed to have permanently taken a turn towards being eternally overcast, damp, and windy, and Arnold wondered if it was a sign meant for him.
He had admitted (albeit only to himself) that he might have feelings for THE Helga Geraldine Pataki just over a week ago, and he watched the sky wearily as he stood at the bus stop, waiting for the #13. Maybe the universe was trying to tell him something. Was that a demonic shaped omen of ill will he saw in the clouds? Or was it an anatomically accurate heart? He couldn't tell. Either way, it looked like it might rain.
The previous week had been an interesting one for Arnold. At one point he might be strolling down the hall, thinking that his feelings had only been an illusion. A trick of the romantic setting sun. Heatstroke. Brief insanity. Then the next moment he would be sitting in class, listening to Helga complain about Russian history and the inaccuracies of Fox Studio's Anastasia, and he would think, It wasn't a trick of the light. She really is cute.
By the end of the week he wasn't any closer to nailing down exactly how he felt. Friday night he had decided not to think about her for the weekend, and save it for Monday's problem. Less than ten minutes later, in the middle of microwaving last week’s burrito surprise, he had found himself wondering what Helga was doing right then.
Arnold wasn't one to get frazzled and flustered easily, and he wasn't. Instead, to ignore his slightly quicker pulse, he had taken to wearing his headphones around more often. Music had always been the best weapon to clear his head. With music in his ears, retuning his heartbeat to its rhythm, it seemed like he was in his own bubble. Walking through the busy world as a spectator. Listening to some snappy tune and staring dreamily up at the gray sky, enjoying the brisk fall wind, he had stepped into his own world. He was so busy trying to decide if the cloud above him was an omen of death or of love that he didn't notice the bus stopping. He jumped when Harold lowered a window and hollered, "Hey, Arnold! Are you getting on the bus or are you just gonna hang around like a ninny in your pretty little scarf?"
On the #13, it took Gerald a good five minutes to get Arnold's attention as they moved along to the next stop.
"Sheesh, man," Gerald chided as Arnold slid his headphones off and hung them around his neck. "You're spacey to begin with, but lately it's like you've mentally checked out of reality and into the La La Land Hotel."
"Sorry, Gerald," Arnold replied, "I've just been...thinking."
"About what? Something interesting enough to keep you this preoccupied is definitely worth sharing."
"Oh, uh..." He wasn't ready to talk about it, even to Gerald. He didn't want to say anything before he had figured it out himself. "It's this folklore project in my North East European Civ class."
"A project?" Gerald said dubiously.
"Yeah. It's on Baba Yaga. We had to split up into groups and pick a folklore to present on. Mine's on Baba Yaga." It was true, he was doing a project on Baba Yaga, but what he didn't say was that he had been put in a group with Helga. Arnold felt guilty for not confiding in his friend, but this was kind of a way to tell Gerald what was on his mind without really telling him.
"Baba Who-ga?" Gerald tried.
"Yaga. She's a witch. And I'm also thinking about the dance committee," which was another thing he did with Helga, "because Rhonda's been on us to start make decorations and stuff. It's a lot to think about."
"Homework and dance decorations? That's it?" Gerald narrowed his eyes, and undoubtedly would have asked more, except they had stopped at Phoebe's bus stop. Phoebe sat behind them and Gerald flipped around in their seat to talk to her. Arnold put his headphones back on and looked out at the October world and thought about his homework and a dance.
Helga stood on the corner of her street in the fall wind, a bulky maroon jacket on her shoulders and a gray beanie on her head, and breathed in the brisk air. She felt great.
It was a new week, and so far Helga thought she was succeeding at being an excellent polite acquaintance. She had said hello to Arnold when he said hello first and she had even, once, asked Arnold how his homework was going.
I am a genius , she had thought at the time. She went to the dance committee meetings and he was there, but so were twelve other kids, including Moze, who was a good buffer. There was only one slight hiccup of panic when she got stuck in a partnership with him for a class project. She had pulled it together, though, and had only snapped back at him once when he corrected her, "It's Baba Yaga, Helga, not Boba Yoda."
She had spent the weekend staying up late reading blogs like How to Have Successful Office Relationships and Controlling Your Id: Zen's Only a Meditation Away! The more interesting read had been by someone named Dr. Loveless called Becoming You without Him on surviving breakups, which she’d found on a Reddit thread, for the heck of it. Most of it was just a bunch of basic hooey, and said stuff like, "You must set boundaries" or "Repeat to yourself: I think I can, I think I can.” But once in a while Dr. Loveless got wild and told her to "Take the metaphorical head of your man-related problems and stick it on a metaphysical stake labelled 'Hell hath no furry'! And never be caught in your pajamas, darling—looking good means feeling good. Wear your best outfit, curl up with a tasty chocolate treat, and say, I. AM. BEAUTIFUL." Helga kinda liked that Loveless chick. She was pretty sure the "doctor" was totally off her rocker, but, hey. When a self-help blog tells you to eat chocolate in a warm bathrobe with a facemask on, you eat it.
Now Helga was ready to put her weekend of acquired knowledge into practice.
"I," she stated out loud, rolling the kinks out of her neck, "am a beast. I am a woman of the 21st century and I do not bow to the will of man."
"Good for you, Ladybird," Moze responded distractedly. He was leaning against a sad leafless tree and didn't look up from his book when he talked to her. When he didn't have early morning practice or homework, he rode the #12 bus from her stop.
She was glad he still called her Ladybird once in a while. She had been worried that he, Teri, and Lenny would be pissed at her for ditching the basketball team after they had all stood by her. Teri, who had a little orange basketball where a heart should be, had been the most confused by her decision. But he hadn’t hated her, like she was worried he might. Lenny had only asked if they could still use the nice private court behind Helga’s apartment, and she had told him he’d better. Moze had been unbothered, too, agreeing she didn’t have to put up with Beezus’s dislike of her, even if he had let her on the team. She’d invited all three boys, and Agatha, over on Friday to shoot hoops and eat pizza.
She continued ranting, "It's the beginning of a new week, and I will accomplish the goals set before me. I will crush the enemy. Nothing stands in my way. I shall conquer myself, no matter what luscious, flowing blond locks cross my path. No, no! I will become a stone. I will not swoon at a pretty pair of emerald eyes or a particularly nice smelling—watermelon, I think it is—shampoo."
"That all seems oddly specific," Moze said.
Helga ignored him and paced on the curb's edge. "I have shunned love. I will not be the slave of my Id. I will go on as I have done and accomplish great things. I will be a lawyer. Or a doctor. Nah, I couldn't handle wearing scrubs all the time. I'll be mayor. Or governor. Or a professional surfer. I can do anything. I will be so great, people will throw money at my feet, begging me to take it! I will have all I ever desired!"
"Wahoo, you'll be filthy rich," Moze turned a page, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And when you're old and alone, I'm sure your cold, hard money will be the perfect comfort."
Helga turned to him. "Criminy, killjoy. What’s your problem today?”
The bus pulled up behind Helga, brakes screeching, and Moze pushed away from the tree. He smiled at her. "Sorry, Pataki, just stressed about some tests I have first period. I'm sure you'll be a great professional surfer."
"You bet I will!"
Helga climbed aboard the #12 bus after Moze. She paused, looking at the bus driver—a pear shaped, frizzy haired, middle aged woman.
The driver grunted. "What? You gonna sit down, kid?"
"How much do you get paid to do this job? Any cushy benefits? Free air-fresheners or seat cushions?" Helga asked.
"I wish. I wouldn't consider it as a future career if I were you, girly. Sit down."
"Yeah, yeah." Helga joined her friends in the back of the bus. Lenny had his legs stretched across the aisle to rest on the opposite seat and when she knocked them out of the way he said, "S'up, Pataki!"
"Morning, Lenard!" Helga replied.
"You look awful chipper this overcast and depressing Monday morning," Teri said, a gray beanie on his head that matched Helga's. Helga's had been a gift from him on her birthday last year. Matching best friend hats. Lenny and Agatha had gotten similar ones on their birthdays. Helga had never shared anything with a friend except Phoebe until then.
Agatha was sitting beside Teri today, nearly lost in his vast shadow, and practically drowning in the three colorful scarves she was wearing.
"Well maybe it's going to be a good day, Theresa." Helga sat in her usual lumpy seat. "Autumn is the perfect time to change your colors and shed your leaves."
Agatha asked, "Are you dying your hair?"
"Not what I meant," Helga said.
"Are you turning into an Ent?" Lenny asked.
"As in those old tree guys from Lord of the Rings?" She made a face at him like he was missing a few vastly important brain cells. "How would I turn into an Ent?"
Lenny shrugged. "Magic."
"Do I look like Gandolf to you, fool?"
"A little. Kinda have the same round nose. And you are wearing a gray hat. Maybe if we tie your hair around your chin... " He leaned over his seat to pick up strands of her hair and hold them beneath her chin.
She smacked him. " No, I'm not turning into an Ent. I've simply realized some things about myself that have been a long time in the coming and I've been working on changing them."
"She's turning over a new leaf," Lenny said. "Get it?"
Teri ignored him and said to Helga, "Oh, yeah? Like what?"
"Ohhh, just some things."
“Is this still about basketball.”
“No, but yes.”
"I wish you wouldn't change anything," Agatha said, her breathy voice muffled slightly by her stack of scarves. "I think you’re perfect just the way you are."
"Well, thanks, Aggie, but you're probably the only one. Besides, they're all changes for the better. Just a little bit of sanding down around the rough edges."
Lenny said, "Your bark is awfully rough, Treebeard."
"I will kill you, Len," she deadpanned.
"That's not like you, o'peaceful shepherd of the forest—ow, ow, ow!"
The East Siders made it to school with Lenny still alive and left the bus to stand on the damp sidewalk. As they entered the building, it was difficult to miss the new decorations that hung around the school. The most obvious of which was a large banner hanging across the front hall that said, "Eugene for president!" There were various posters and fliers on the walls with faces and slogans of candidates from other grades as well, and one life size standee of Lila Sawyer stood by by the entrance.
Seeing the familiar freckled, smiling face of Lila scared the bejeezus out of Helga, who jumped at the site of it and "accidentally" knocked it over. She had yet to run into Lila at Hillwood High—she had only spotted the top of her head once among a throng of adoring fanboys. Figures that Little Miss Perfect would have grown into a high school princess. At least, Helga had thought to herself only once, Arnold didn't seem to be one of the fanboys.
The halls swarmed with teenagers. Every twenty feet or so stood a student who was handing out merchandise, advertising whatever presidential candidate they were representing. Before Helga and her friends had gotten half way through the first hall, they each had a glow stick necklace ("Glowing Gloria will light your way!"), pens with googly eyes and paper ears glued to them ("Jefferson sees and hears the problems of the Junior class!"), and a handful of jolly ranchers ("Have a Jolly time with Matt as Senior president!"). Lenny had gone back for another handful and was seeing how many he could fit in his mouth.
"You know," Teri said, "I'd say all this propaganda seems a little overboard, but it's kinda legit." He held up a button with a Pikachu on it that said Gotta catch all the votes! Vote Ash Heinz! "Heh heh, get it? His last name is Heinz?"
"What's ketchup have to do with—oh, I get it!" Lenny high fived Teri before taking a colorful keychain being handed him.
"This school is very patriotic," Agatha said, kindly taking every flier held towards her.
"I dunno about that, Aggie. Looks like they're just trying to buy our votes." Helga slapped away a flier being shoved at her. "Democracy has officially gone to the ankle biting dogs. Who knows what these people even stand for."
"Helga!"
Helga turned to find Sid in her face, grinning widely.
"So, Helga, elections are on Friday." He wiggled his eyebrows.
"Uh, ok?"
"Do you know who you're voting for?" he asked.
She pushed him out of her face. "I hadn't given it much thought."
"Well, then!" Sid untangled one of the few hundred friendship bracelets he was carrying. "Let me put in a little good word for my man Arnold." He slid a pink bracelet on her wrist with a wink.
Helga looked down at the bracelet. It had little beads that said I Heart Arnold! Helga fingered the delicate thing, not wanting it around her wrist but not willing to make a scene by ripping it off. She wondered what Dr. Loveless would say about something like this. She would have to look it up later.
Helga began gathering more presidential bracelets and necklaces, some plastic, some yarn, and one made of candy. She felt better when the little pink bracelet was nearly hidden by others, but she could still feel it on her skin, like a blister.
"Criminy, that was embarrassing," Helga said to Teri as they left their third period literature class. Teri chuckled and she glared at him. "What are you laughing at, bucko? You wanna go?"
He said with a repressed smile, "I thought your poem was totally good. I especially liked the part where you said—what was it?" He put a dramatic hand in the air. "Forsooth, 'tis true! For this day the lady tames the lion and peace shall come in waves of sweet amber relief!"
She elbowed him in the stomach, her face red. "Shut up."
He rubbed his stomach with a wheeze. "Seriously, though, it was pretty good. No wonder the teacher wanted you to read it out loud."
All Helga could hear was the echo of quiet laughter from her classmates minutes before. "If she ever makes me get up there again I'll choke her with that stupid boa she wears. How's that for a poetic death?"
"Tsk, tsk, violence! She can't help it if she just, and I quote, 'adores you, miss Pataki! Your understanding of the poetic soul is beyond what she has seen in years! '" He fluttered his eyelashes and pretended to throw an imaginary boa over one shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm the next Emily Dickinson. Whatever." She thought to herself, Poetry has always been my curse. But what better healer than that literary nurse? "Oh, shut up."
"I didn't say anything," Teri protested.
"I wasn't talking to you."
They made their way to the cafeteria, fighting off more hucksters with their presidential products. It was lightly raining outside, so the cafeteria was twice as crowded as it usually was during lunch. Helga and Teri were halfway through the lunch line when Agatha appeared beside them like a ghost.
"Hey, Agatha!" Teri said. "Where are you guys eating at?"
Agatha turned and pointed to a table on the other side of the noisy room. "We're over there. We saved you a seat."
Helga groaned when she saw the table in question. Seated there was not only Lenny and Phoebe, but also Gerald and his all-too-familiar best friend. Agatha led the way and Helga followed with her food tray warily.
There was an empty seat beside Arnold, but Genghis Khan himself couldn't wrestle her into that seat. She squeezed in next to Teri, shoving him over, and Phoebe, who was sitting on the other end of the bench, nearly fell off.
Gerald, who was sitting next to Arnold on the roomy side of the table, said, "There's room over here, Helga."
"I'm good," she said, nose in the air. She was sitting across from Arnold, but she avoided all eye contact except the initial, "Hi."
"Hey," he responded cheerfully.
The others engaged in light conversation and Helga ate her tapioca, giving non-committal grunts whenever her participation was expected. When Gerald was showing Teri and Lenny the collection on his forearm of I Heart Arnold presidential bracelets, Arnold asked Helga, "So, did you get that list for Rhonda?"
At the dance committee meeting last week, Rhonda and Ashlee, a Senior who was also in charge of the dance, had split up the committee members into different groups to "divide and conquer." Helga and Arnold, along with three others, were in charge of decorations. Helga responded casually, "Kind of. Just jotted some stuff down, like pumpkins and bats or something."
"Yeah, me too," he said. "I'm not that great with décor. I kinda wish I was in the food group, instead. Nadine told me they're thinking of ways to do zombie brains and tombstone cupcakes."
"Huh,” she said, spearing her cold cooked carrots.
"I dunno, though, decorations can be fun. And we can have skeletons and strobe lights and stuff since it's the Halloween dance. Although, maybe not. The school might have policies against dead spirits. Maybe some parents would be against them."
"Could be."
"Seems lame, though. I mean, why be against it, so long as it's done tastefully, right? Where's the harm in a little Halloween tradition?"
"Nowhere."
"Exactly."
Helga thought, I am so nailing this polite acquaintance stuff. Just listen to that casual banter we have going.
The group's conversations were interrupted when Sid slumped in next to Arnold and dumped his pile of I Heart Arnold bracelets on the table.
"Man, you would not believe the crazies out there! I just fought off a girl who was walking around, pulling every single one of our posters down and putting up Lila posters instead. Politics are brutal." Sid looked at Teri's untouched chicken sandwich. "Are you gonna eat that?"
Teri (the vegetarian) slid the tray to him.
Sid continued, mouth full, "Arnold, don't forget that after school is the Sophomore candidate photo op, so I hope you brought something nice to wear.”
Arnold looked down at his sweater, then at Gerald. Gerald shrugged. Helga thought his sweater was nice on him. He looked cozy.
“And Wednesday during first period they're doing the interviews for the school journalism and broadcasting club,” Sid added. “Oh, and Thursday they're having a lunch for all the nominees, so you gotta be there. They told me they're catering Chez Paris , and I thought, boy howdy! Maybe next year I'll run for president."
"I can't on Thursday, Sid," Arnold said.
Sid choked on his sandwich. "What? What do you mean you can't on Thursday, Sid? Didn't you hear, I said Chez Paris . Them's some fancy foods right there, man."
"I know, but I've got a dance committee meeting."
"Dude," Gerald interjected. "Free food. You do not turn down free food. There's a rule about it somewhere."
"Yeah!" Sid said, "Come on, the dance committee can stuff it. This is the presidency we're talking about here! We've got less than a week to make the world love you, baby!"
Arnold shrugged. "Well, I dunno. I don't really care about being the president."
"Don't care about—! Arnold, I don't think you quite see what's going on here," Sid put an arm around Arnold's shoulder. "If you're the president, you get free food all the time. You get to skip class to roam the halls without question, and you're all the teachers’ favorite student so you practically never fail. Everybody loves you, especially the girls, or the guys if you’re feeling experimental, and you get to go to the student council class during fourth period instead of a normal class and goof around. And don't even get me started on the scholarships available for you when you're gettin' ready for college!"
"Dude," Lenny said longingly. "I wanna be president."
Sid nodded at him excitedly. "I know, right! It's like the sweetest, easiest gig ever!"
"Well it's not always that simple," Phoebe said, pushing her glasses up her nose. "The student council is in charge of scheduling and supervising all events put on by the school. They also have the obligation of surveying the student body to understand our needs in order to better mediate between us and the faculty. Not to mention they serve as official representatives of the school in the community. Done correctly, it’s a very time consuming job."
"Yeah, but it's worth it," Gerald said. "Last year, I walked past the student council class once, and they were eating waffles in a circle on the floor. They were eating waffles during fourth period, right after lunch. On the floor. Yeah, man."
"Mmm, waffles," Teri sighed and munched on his baby carrots.
"All that stuff sounds great, Sid," Arnold said in his soft voice, "but I'd still rather drop out of the race."
"How come?" Sid asked.
"It just takes so much time. I've got basketball now, in the spring I'll have baseball, and I always have to help my grandparents out after school. And I've never even thought of being president. I just don't think I'm cut out—"
Helga, very abruptly, slammed a hand down on the table, making everyone jump. "Criminy, Arnold!"
He looked at her with wide eyes. "What?"
All the while everyone had been talking, Helga had been thinking. At first, she had inwardly groaned. The last thing she wanted was for Arnold to become president, because that would mean she would see him all the time, on stage at assemblies and events, and hear his voice on morning announcements. It was already annoying enough with all the hundreds of posters of him staring down at her like a council of accusatory ghosts, and she was so grateful no one had made a creepy standee of him like they had of Lila, or it might spook her so bad she’d karate chop his head off.
Now, as the others had talked about what being president fully entailed, Helga's mind had changed. If Arnold became president, he would be extremely busy. He'd be gone at lunch sometimes for meetings, he'd have to stay late after school to help with whatever, and, best of all, he would have to transfer out of the fourth period class they shared so he could go to some fancy-pants student council class. She would hardly ever see him! She wouldn't even have to avoid him, he would simply no longer be around!
She was suddenly, vehemently determined that he needed to be Sophomore class president.
"Arnold," she said, "out of all the students of the Sophomore class, you were nominated. What, you gonna chicken out now? You can't just not try! It's your patriotic duty to uphold the standards of democracy in our school!"
"It is?" he said.
"Of course it is!" She threw her arms in the air. "I mean, you think Eugene or Lila would be a better president? Ha, I don't think so. One’s got musical theater on the brain 24/7, and the other one spends all her time with Seniors, not Sophomores! They're not nearly as relatable. You're obviously the best choice." And she really did believe that. She thought he would be a great president. Which would make it easier for him to get elected. "You just gotta take charge, Arnold. No more of this wishy-washy-wussy stuff."
Arnold looked at her with an unreadable expression for a minute. Then he asked, "You really think I'd be good at it, Helga?"
"You bet your button nose I do," she responded firmly.
"I think you'd be good, too," Gerald said.
"Me too!" Phoebe said.
"Well," Arnold smiled round at them. "I guess so. So long as you guys back me up."
"Now we're gettin' somewhere!" Sid rubbed his hands together. "All right, we've only got four more days to win over the student body! Team Arnold is so going to taste sweet victory on Friday!"
"Yeah we are!" Gerald high fived Phoebe and Lenny, who were directly across from him.
"So, Helga," Sid said slowly, leaning towards her. "You think Arnold will be a good president?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. I just said that, didn't I?"
"You did. Only making sure I heard you correctly. If you think he'd make a good president, then you probably really like him, huh?"
Helga would have preferred for Sid to slap her with a wet fish. She didn’t have to think about how to answer, however, because Arnold suddenly elbowed him, pushing him off the bench.
"Ow! What?" Sid looked at him.
Arnold looked back through narrowed eyes. "Don't you have more bracelets to pass out or something?"
"Yeah, I guess my break's over. I'm off!" Sid gathered the bracelets from the table.
"I'll help you," Helga said, and stood with a handful of bracelets in one fist.
"You don't have to do that, Helga," Arnold said as she stepped away from the table.
"Sure I do. You don't worry your oblong little head. Helga Pataki is on the job." She walked away, twirling one of the bracelets around a finger. I'm so the best polite acquaintance ever. This election is going to be a piece of cake.
Arnold had felt a little pinprick of glee when Helga so avidly supported his presidential campaign. She must have really forgiven him, thank goodness. She certainly was being friendlier since the basketball incident and then their conversation the week before. She also seemed to think he’d be a good president, and whatever else Helga may be, she was often very right. So he'd thought, Why not? He could give the presidency a whirl.
After school he met with all the other candidates in the student council classroom for the photo op Sid insisted he go to. He stood with Eugene and Lila while they waited their turn for their group picture.
Lila, who had grown out of the little girl braids and country clothes for a stylish short bob and green mini skirt, smiled at the two boys and said, "I'm ever so glad we're a part of all this! I'm looking forward to running against you, Arnold."
Eugene said, "Gosh, aren't we all so grown up? Seems like it was just last week we were all in Mr. Simmons's fourth grade class, causing trouble." Then he asked Lila and Arnold to sign the new cast he had on his leg, saying, "I fractured it while choreographing the last scene of Hairspray. I gladly suffer for my art."
Arnold agreed that it seemed funny they were old enough to be running for class president. It was surreal that they were all sixteen, that many of their friends had drivers licenses, that Rhonda and Harold were dating, that Eugene was a star, that Gerald would soon be captain of the basketball team, that Helga was back…He was so distracted by the surreality of it all that he accidentally bumped a light stand while getting into position, and it fell on Eugene. A couple of the other girls in the room cried, "Eugene!" and ran to his assistance. Lila exclaimed, "Oh my goodness! Stand back! I know first aid!" Arnold said, "Eugene! I'm sorry! Are you ok?" The camera guy chewed his gum, slicked his comb-over down, and drawled out, "Everyone say cheeeeeese." Click.
That year in the yearbook the Sophomore presidential-candidate photo (on page 34, right next to the actual president's photo) was of a broken light stand, Eugene on the floor, Lila and other girls kneeling over him, and Arnold in the back, saying awkwardly, "Cheese..."
After apologizing profusely to Eugene and making sure his broken leg wasn't more broken, Arnold left the school. Grabbing his backpack from his locker, he walked around the building towards the gym for basketball practice.
He turned a corner of the school and stopped dead. Ahead of him, to the right of the school doors, was a makeshift platform of old crates. Standing on top of it was Gerald and Helga, passing a megaphone back and forth as they spoke to the crowd. Hanging behind them was a giant banner that said, "Look no further: Arnold's your man!" Sid stood to the side, arms crossed, nodding proudly.
As Arnold inched forward, Gerald had the megaphone, and he was saying in his best impersonation, "If you vote for Arnold, all of your wildest dreams will come true!"
There was a pity chuckle from the crowd and Helga rolled her eyes and took the megaphone back, saying, " Yes, thank you for that, Geraldo. Anyway, if you're looking for a president who will really take care of you, who will know and fulfill your needs, then you really just ought to get off your ass and vote for Arnold. He's the best option for president, obviously. Oh, look, here he is! "
Arnold swallowed when the crowd turned in his direction. "Uh, hi."
"C'mere, Shortman!" Helga called. "Come say something to your people!"
Arnold hesitantly hopped onto the platform. Helga handed him the megaphone and backed away, clapping. A few people in the crowd clapped weakly and everyone else looked up at him, bored. Nadine and Sheena were among the audience and they waved at him. He pushed the megaphone button and made himself and everyone wince when it shrilled from feedback. He swallowed and tried again.
"Uh, sorry about that," he said into it, not liking how his voice echoed. "Hey, everyone. Um, I'm Arnold."
"We know, Arnold," Helga said dryly. "Don't put 'em to sleep."
"Talk about how awesome you are," Gerald encouraged.
"Uh, yep. So I'm running for president. And, er, if you vote for me...all of your wildest dreams will come true ?" Behind him Helga snorted and Gerald gave a peace sign. "And, uh, I will always...make sure to, uh, take the side of the Sophomore class and the student body, to, uh, ensure that you are properly represented." He stopped talking and the crowd merely stared at him blankly.
Helga started clapping again, and Arnold was pretty sure only Gerald and Sid joined in. Helga took the megaphone back, which Arnold was only too glad to hand over.
"Well, isn't he just a peach?" she said into it. "That's Arnold for you, everybody. You'll get nothin' but sincerity from our man here. Honesty is the best quality in a politician, and Arnold's got loads of it. There's no doubt that he's the best candidate for the job, because, heh, let's face it, the other two are just a joke. Am I right?"
The only answer came from the very back of the crowd: "Indeed, not. You are quite wrong." The audience turned and split down the middle as Curly walked towards the platform. Arnold didn't like his expression: he was grinning widely—too widely. On his fancy tailored jacket was a button that said, Eugene is my President!
"Oh, yeah?" Helga said down at him. "Who are you voting for, then?"
"I," Curly tapped his Eugene button slowly. "Will be voting for Eugene. The only proper candidate for Sophomore president."
"Pfft! Ha! I don't think so, Curly Temple," Helga looked back at Arnold and Gerald and pointed at Curly in a "can you believe this guy?" sort of way, then said, "I'm pretty sure Arnold will be a better president than single-minded-singing-Eugene."
Curly took his glasses off and rubbed them on his shirt calmly. "Well. I look forward to competing against you in the upcoming race."
"Competing? How so?" Gerald said. "It's not like you're the one running for president."
Curly put his glasses back on, and his head was tilted just enough that the glare on the lenses hid his eyes. "Well, you see, I'm Eugene's campaign manager. Do you know why I'm Eugene's campaign manager?"
"Why?" Helga asked, clearly only to humor him.
"Because I'm not Arnold's campaign manager. Do you know why I'm not Arnold's campaign manager?"
Arnold shrugged when Helga looked back at him. He had no idea where Curly was going with this.
"Is there a point to this?" Helga asked Curly.
"You don't know? Well, me neither." Curly's grin widened. "Even though he promised me, exactly two years and 48 days ago, that if he ever ran for student council, he'd take me with him. Has he done that? Hmm. No. He hasn't. No matter. I will simply have to take him down. I have no choice but to crush him. And anyone on his side, of course." Suddenly, his calmness was only magnifying his creepiness. The few students next to him took a step back as a dark chuckle escaped his throat.
Helga scoffed. "Bring it on, psychopath."
Arnold knew that, despite Curly's more grown up appearance, with his styled hair and pressed jeans, he still had a tendency to take revenge a little too far. Arnold quickly stepped forward and took the megaphone from Helga, turning it off.
"Sorry, Curly, I totally forgot I said that to you," he said. He was pretty sure he had never actually promised anything of the sort, but with Curly, you do not question.
Curly pointed an accusing finger at Arnold, and his calmness dissipated. "Oh, no you don't! Apologies are useless, Arnold! I will make it to the top of the social ladder! I deserve it! It is my right as a Gamelthorpe! And I will use you and your precious little campaign manager as my stepping stool!"
Sid ducked behind the banner.
Curly turned to the crowd. "Eugene will be president, and anyone who knows what's good for them will vote for him! Got that, peasants?"
Everyone stared at him.
"Eugene will not be president," said a new voice.
Arnold groaned. "What now?"
The crowd, including those on stage, turned to the newcomer. He was tall, with auburn hair and brown eyes, and he was wearing a gray blazer and a blue checkered bow tie. Arnold knew him well. He had dated Phoebe for six months last year, after all.
"R.J.," Gerald said coldly.
"Gerald," R.J. White replied in the same tone. He turned to Curly. "Eugene has only won in your mind, little person. With my help, Lila is sure to win in the elections on Friday. The others don't stand a chance."
Helga crossed her arms. "Tch, there's no way Arnold's losing against Lila Sawyer. Right, Arnold?"
"Uh..." was Arnold's reply.
Curly just said, " Little person?" with disgust.
R.J. looked at them all as if they were naïve children and he were much older and wiser. "Oh, come now! You don't seriously think your little friend has a chance, do you?" He chuckled to himself. "Oh, please, that's too funny! No, indeed." He raised an eyebrow and looked Arnold up and down. "Arnold , as you call him, is completely incompetent to run the Sophomore class."
"Excuse me? Who’s incompetent?" Gerald sneered, at the same time Helga said, "We call him that because it's his name , idiot."
Sid, who had come out from behind the banner, crossed his arms. "Who's the hoity toity?"
R.J. ignored them all and spoke to Arnold, "But I suppose you can have your fun. I won't even try to stop you—you are absolutely no threat to me. Your little campaign is a joke, really. We all know that this election has nothing to do with politics, anyway. It all has to do with who you know and how much money you have, and in both respects, Lila is superior."
Helga started, "Well, Arnold knows everyone—" but Arnold cut her off. He’d had enough of all this.
"It's not about being popular or how much money you have," Arnold said, annoyed. "At least it shouldn’t be. It’s supposed to be about teamwork. It's teaching the student body how to understand democracy and work together. Look at how many people have already been helping with posters and stuff—they want to be a part of something bigger. It's about unity. You can't be president if no one follows you, and no one will follow you unless you lead them where they want to go. Where are you leading them, R.J.?" No one else said anything. Arnold was vaguely aware that the crowd was listening intently and that, next to him, Helga was staring at him.
R.J. raised his eyebrows. "Well, well. Saint Arnold. Perhaps you will be some competition, after all." Then R.J. turned and headed out the school gates.
Gerald grumbled, "Man, I hate that guy."
Curly, ignored until R.J. was gone, was repeating to himself, "Little person? Little person? Ooh, he will pay..." A chuckle began low in his throat and rose slowly. He turned and began walking away, the other students quickly giving him space, and by the time it was a full out maniac's laugh, he was nearly gone.
"You know, sometimes..." Arnold began.
"...Curly gives me the serious heebie jeebies," Gerald finished.
"Yeesh. Guess some people never change. Weird little toad," Helga said.
Arnold handed the megaphone to Sid and stepped off the platform. Gerald and Helga followed, and behind them, Sid said with the megaphone back on, " All right, people. After that little display, who ya gonna vote for ?"
An echo of "Arnold!" was the reply he got.
"Well done, Saint Arnold," Helga said as they reached the sidewalk. "All that hooey about unity and teamwork and junk was pretty good."
"It's not hooey, Helga," Arnold replied. “It’s how it should be.”
"Uh-huh,” she said. But Arnold thought that she didn't sound disbelieving. She sounded like she might agree.
They reached the point where Arnold and Gerald needed to break off to head to basketball practice. Teri was ahead of them and he waved. Helga waved back and Gerald headed toward him. Arnold paused by Helga, who was leaving to find her bus.
"Helga," he said, stopping her.
She turned back to him. "What?"
But he didn't really have anything to say. He wasn’t even sure why he had stopped her. As he had suspected early that morning, it had started drizzling, and the wind was picking up. It whipped Helga's hair around her, tangling it. She shivered, shoving her hands in her coat pockets.
"If you have something to say, say it," she said. "I'm freezing my butt off out here."
He laughed.
"Is there something funny about freezing your butt off?" she asked.
"No. Here." He reached up and pulled the scarf he was wearing off. Stepping forward he draped it around Helga's neck.
She made a face like she had just swallowed a spider. "What's this?"
"A scarf. You said you were cold."
She scoffed. "Oh, please. Take your seriously misplaced sympathy and give it to someone who wants it." She began taking the scarf off.
He gave her a half-lidded smile. He had known Helga too long to be scared off by her brutish responses. He stepped away, preventing her from handing back the scarf, and said flippantly, "Someone's gotta make sure you don't freeze your butt off." He turned toward Gerald and Teri.
"Pfft, uh, yeah, whatever!" she said behind him, and he liked that she sounded flustered.
Walking away, he felt rather cheeky. He looked back once to see Helga looking down at the scarf, feeling the fabric gently. So much for all her huffing and puffing about not wanting it. She's cute , he thought, chuckling to himself again. Then he jogged to catch up to his teammates.
Teri patted his shoulder and said, "That was nice of you. Gotta say, though, it looks better on her than on you. Pink's not your color, man."
"Yeah. She's always looked good in pink," Arnold said.
Gerald looked back at Helga, then at Arnold as if he had just sprouted antlers.
The scarf thing had freaked Helga out. Like, legitimately. He had stepped close, making her brain stop, and lifted it over her head with a smile. Freaky. As a kid she probably would have thrown it to the ground dramatically, then snuck back after dark to find it and add it to her Arnold shrine. As new Helga, the polite acquaintance, she couldn't do either. Still too freaked to actually wear it, she had stuffed it in her pocket and then ridden the bus home in a tense silence. Agatha had asked her if she was feeling alright, to which Helga only responded stiffly that she was fine.
It took her the whole ride home and three glasses of whatever gosh-awful smoothie Miriam had made before she was able to calm her heart and think rationally again.
I must be way better at being a polite acquaintance than I thought, she thought, looking at the scarf on her bed. Before, when she had known him as a kid, she had always been nasty and pushy so they had never gotten to this level before. But she had seen him be nice to all the girls, and no doubt he would have given anyone the scarf if he saw they were cold. In fact, last Friday she had watched him hand his umbrella off to a group of kids hovering inside the school, afraid to go out in the rain. He was just that way, and now that she wasn't spazzing out and shoving him to the ground every five seconds, he was free to be that way with her, too. He was only being friendly.
And then she was ticked off. What the heck? Does the football head want to give every girl a heart attack? He thinks he's being all gentlemanly, but really, girls will get the wrong idea and get attached if he keeps doing that.
Girls like me.
I gotta get rid of him.
She stomped down the hallway and slammed open Big Bob's office door, interrupting his watching a football game. He turned to her, indignant. "Criminy, Helga, what do you think you're doing? Can't you see I'm in the middle of—"
"Dad, get your wallet! We got work to do!"
Chapter 5: Propaganda with a Vengeance
Chapter Text
Tuesday began before the sun was up. Helga got a ride to school from Big Bob, who complained the whole time about it being too early, and then she convinced the janitor to let her in. Then she proceeded to hang fresh posters of Arnold with a picture of him looking confident with his arms crossed. Beneath the photo the pictures said things like, "Where are you being led?" and "It's time to be a part of something bigger." She, herself, had commissioned a standee from Big Bob's marketing guy—it was of Arnold in his basketball uniform, holding a ball. It was a picture she had gotten from Phoebe's yearbook last year. Then Helga thought that wasn't enough, so she ordered a few more standees, one of Arnold with a baseball bat over his shoulder, and one of him from when he was fourteen, waving at the camera. These she set up by all the main entrances.
She also had about two hundred more I Heart Arnold bracelets, and had made matching I Heart Arnold necklaces, rings, headbands, and temporary tattoos. She left her jacket in her locker, and her T-shirt was pepto bismol pink and had Arnold's face on the front, with the words, "I'm Team Arnold, Are You?" on the back. She had three more boxes full of matching shirts in other neon colors. Big Bob had hardly hesitated in giving her the money to accomplish it all, so long as she'd go away and let him finish his game.
Then Helga stood at the front door of the school waiting for the student body to arrive, completely confident and prepared.
She passed out bracelets and necklaces, and even haggled Teri, Lenny, and Agatha into helping pass out the rest of them. She was feeling pretty good, watching high schoolers walking away with her merchandise, until she heard something going on outside.
R.J. White had driven a large red convertible through the gates and onto the blacktop. Standing on the hood of it now was some DJ that Helga didn't recognize, but who was evidently very popular by the crowd standing around the car. The DJ had a microphone, and he was rapping some crap song about Lila. Lila herself was standing all pretty on top of the car, looking adorable and cold with her scarf and cup of hot cider. Helga had grumbled and followed the power cords from the microphone to the wall, where she "accidentally" unplugged it and ran back inside.
Back in the school, Helga found that her posters had all been covered by large floor to ceiling banners of Eugene. They were all pictures of Eugene on stage—everything from him as Le Fou from Beauty and the Beast, to one of him as the Phantom of the Opera, to Newsies, the Music Man, the Scarlet Pimpernel...The posters just kept going. Helga pulled out a sharpie, drew mustaches on all of them, and wrote on Eugene's (multiple) chests, "I Heart Arnold."
Then she stood under the one of Eugene as the Phantom and said to all those who passed, "The Phantom loves Arnold! How about you?" She was able to pass out all of her bracelets, and nearly all of the necklaces, that way. Aggie stood by her and passed out shirts to anyone who wanted one, so by the time the rest of the buses had rolled up a hundred kids were wearing Arnold's face.
"I," Helga said to herself, "am a genius."
"Oh. My. Gosh," Rhonda said when the #13 group entered the school. "Look at those hideous shirts. I hope they were paid well to wear them."
Arnold stared at the chaotic decor around the school halls. He jumped out of the way as someone wheeling a popsicle stick statue of Lila wheelbarrowed past. "I don't remember this happening at last year's election," he said.
"Man, look at the nerd herd," Harold said. He stopped a kid passing by in a pink Arnold shirt by pointing at his chest. "What's that?" The kid looked down and Harold flicked his nose.
"Gee," Stinky eyed an Arnold standee, "is it just me, or is that real spooky?" The standee stared back, unblinking.
Gerald looked at one of the giant banners of a close up of Eugene, his mouth open wide in song. He said, "Mm-mm! That just ain't right."
A few students in pepto-pink Team Arnold shirts spotted Arnold and waved excitedly. Arnold waved back hesitantly.
Phoebe said, "My goodness, it seems the campaign managers have really gone all out."
"Nut-uh," came Sid from behind them. "I didn't do this."
Helga wasn't hard to find, since she was standing on a chair below a looming figure of the Eugene-Phantom in his skeletal mask. Helga was a real sight; she was covered in Arnold products, her hair was disheveled, and despite there being dark bags under her eyes as if she hadn't slept at all the night before, she looked wide awake, to the point she seemed a little possessed.
When she saw them she jumped down from the chair and grabbed a box from the floor. "Here, Sid, pass these out. Don't come back until you're done." She shoved the box in his arms.
Sid looked into the box and exclaimed at how much was in it but Helga simply shooed him away, along with Stinky and Harold with more I Heart Arnold necklaces, into the flow of students still entering the school. She took a can of Red Bull from another box at her feet, cracked it open, then threw her head back and swigged it down.
"Wow, Helga," Arnold started, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around at the wild hallway. "This is a lot of—"
She held out a hand for him to stop while she continued to drink. When he thought she might suffocate if she didn't breathe soon, she finished off the liquid caffeine and gasped. She crushed the can and tossed it over her shoulder. "You were saying?" she said.
"Uh, yeah. This is a lot of stuff. How'd you do all this?" he asked.
She shrugged and picked up another can of Red Bull. "Meh, all it took was a little bit of twisting Bob's arm. Eventually he handed over the cash."
"You didn't have to do that," he said.
"Yes, I did," she said flatly. He wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he didn’t think this was the time or place to ask.
Rhonda said, "I just love the T-shirts, Helga!" Arnold gave her a suspicious look, which she ignored. "And these posters of Eugene are very nice, I must ask Curly where he had them done."
"What's with the mustaches?" Gerald asked, looking up at the Eugene-Phantom with a scribbled black mustache.
Helga looked down at her jean pocket and Arnold saw a sharpie marker sticking out of it. She grabbed it and tossed it over her shoulder into the crowd, but they had all seen it.
"You did that?" Arnold frowned. "You shouldn't mess with their stuff, Helga, I don't think it's fair."
"Arnold, Arnold." She took a gulp of her Red Bull. "This whole game isn't fair. Just a few minutes ago, R.J. walked by passing out raffle tickets for that pretty car outside, but only to people who agreed to change their vote from you to Lila. He's just giving away a car! Tell me how that's fair. Half of them said yes, the traitors."
"You took a raffle ticket," Agatha spoke up.
Arnold crossed his arms at Helga. She held up her hands. "Hey, I don't pass up a chance for free anything. No worries, I'm still voting for you."
He rolled his eyes.
"Well, ladies, it's been swell," Rhonda said, backing away, "But I'm off to find R.J.—a red convertible is just what I need to brighten my day. Ta-ta."
"You better still vote for Arnold!" Gerald shouted after her. Rhonda waved over her shoulder.
Helga took another large swig of her Red Bull before looking at the can with surprise. "Empty." She looked in the box. "Phoebe, I'm out of Red Bull."
"More Red Bull, got it!" Phoebe scurried away.
Helga pulled two shirts from Agatha's arms and passed them to Arnold and Gerald. Arnold looked down at his own face, which looked back with a cheesy grin. His shirt was a special one, because on the back it said, "Hi, I'm Arnold, please vote for me!" instead of the usual saying.
Arnold grimaced at himself. "Do I have to wear this?"
"No doi," Helga said. "How else will people know who you are?"
He didn't bother pointing out the problems with that logic. After a second of deliberation, he removed his jacket and pulled the shirt on over his long sleeve shirt. Helga looked him up and down before giving him an approving thumbs up. Gerald snickered beside him.
Arnold glared at him. "What's so funny?"
"Nothin', man, nothin'." Gerald rubbed his belly, which, with his own shirt already on, was the picture of Arnold's face. "I just love being Team Arnold, is all." He waved at a couple girls walking by. "Hey, ladies! This is Arnold. Says so on his shirt. Arnold, say hi."
"Hi..." Arnold said awkwardly. Gerald laughed and Arnold said, cheeks red, "Shut up."
He paused when Helga suddenly put her hand on his shoulder. He looked at her, but all she did was push him further into the school. "All right, Shortman, now you need to get out there, meet the common people, and kiss some butts."
She paused, and Arnold's heart skipped when they were suddenly looking right at each other, only a few inches away. She was wearing gold heart earrings today, hanging from a delicate gold chain. Her blue eyes were bloodshot. Then she slapped him hard on the back and spun back to her chair, hopping on top of it and shouting, "All right, people, who wants the last Arnold t-shirt?"
Arnold was pushed further down the hall by the crowd as he watched Helga with an uneasy feeling.
"C'mon, let's meet the people," Gerald said, wrapping an arm around him.
Arnold let him guide him away, looking down at his shirt. "I feel like a ham."
"You look like a ham," Gerald said, vastly amused, and proceeded to introduce Arnold to everyone who passed by them.
Helga and her friends passed out everything else they could until the bell rang. First period started then, and all the students trudged off to class. Once in class, Helga was horrified when the announcements came on and Curly's voice sounded through the speaker system, scratchy and distorted from the old machinery.
"Good morning, Hedgehogs!" Curly said cheerfully. "A fine fall day we're having! And, because he cares, Eugene has brought you all a special treat! Right after first period, there will be doughnuts and hot chocolate in the drama room! Courtesy of Eugene Horowitz! Vote Eugene for Sophomore class president!" Then he got off and some other people announced things for the Junior and Freshman class elections, but Helga was done listening.
When the period was over, Helga headed straight to the drama room and right to the front of the line. She cut in front of some girl and grabbed a doughnut and styrofoam cup. Taking a large bite of doughnut, she fake choked and spat it out.
"Ew! Holy guacamole, it's moldy!" she said loudly.
The line of waiting students turned to her. She took a large gulp of hot cocoa before spitting that out, too. "What is in that? What's he trying to do, kill us? No thanks!" Throwing away the doughnut and cup dramatically, she stomped out of the room. The girl behind her put her doughnut back and left with the majority of the line. Only a few brave souls stayed to risk the supposedly moldy food. Curly, who was sitting behind the table of treats, shook his fist after her. "Just you wait, Pataki!"
Her second period pottery class went by without a glitch, and all Helga had to do was stand at the front of the class and say that Arnold was a great guy. Then she passed out the temporary tattoos, which the students thought were awesome and stuck anywhere where skin was showing (and a few places where skin wasn't showing). Mrs. Juarez looked at Helga's shirt and said, "Oh! What an artisan you are, senorita Helga! Such an artistically shaped head!" She had obviously never seen the real Arnold.
During the five minutes between second and third classes, Helga passed a stage in the hall where a hotdog eating contest for the football team was about to start in honor of Lila. Helga jumped up and took some linebacker's place. She ate more hotdogs than anyone, choking her way through a gag, and when the bell rang, signaling the end of the contest, she stood up, fists in the air, and said, "Arnold for president!"
There was a rather loud cheer, and some astonished, "Who is that girl? Geez, can she put away food."
R.J., standing on the edge of the stage, said, "Yes, you've won! Which means you get the prize!"
Helga perked up, mouth still full of hotdog. "There's a prize?"
"Of course, and it's the wonderful feeling of donating to our cause! Give the lady a hand!" He led the on-lookers in an applause.
"What! I have to pay you?" Helga asked.
He gave her a pretentious smile. "Those were the rules."
Behind Helga, a football player said, "Man, I wanted to donate to Lila. She's the prettiest girl in school."
R.J. said, "Will that be cash, or check?"
Helga was just about to deck him when a rumbling down the hall made everyone turn. Coming towards them, surprisingly fast, was the floor waxing zamboni. It was large and gray and old, and looked like it was smoking in some parts. Driving it was Curly.
There was scrambling and some screams (and some maniacal laughter) as the machine bull-dozed straight toward them. Helga booked it out of there with the rest of the crowd, and Curly rammed the waxer straight into the stage, "In the name of Eugene!" sending splinters of wood and half eaten hotdogs flying.
The campaign managers weren't the only people to be taking the campaigning seriously. The rest of the student body had picked up on the aura of competition and had started segregating into three groups, Arnoldites, Lilonians, and Eugeners. On the second floor, a war broke out during the debate class (when their discussion about the elections got out of hand) and they overturned desks as forts and started tossing pens, rulers, and safety scissors at each other. A rather vicious mosh pit began in the band room when R.J. came in and, quite literally, started tossing dollar bills towards them. The co-ed P.E. classes separated into boys against girls, all the boys for Lila, and the girls for either Arnold or Eugene, and started an Olympic tournament to determine the winner. Even the library got a little noisy when a Eugener insulted a rather sensitive Arnoldite about his ridiculous pink shirt and a row ensued.
The only people really happy about all the going ons was the journalism club. The reporters were having a hay-day with all the interesting news, and more than once the club president (Peapod Kid, in a fedora and trench coat) could be seen running down the hall, followed by a camera man and shouting, "Oh, my, this is terribly, terribly distressing!"
Helga left third period early in order to set up a projector screen in the cafeteria. She had rummaged through the shrine in the back of her closet and found her old pictures of Arnold, from him in diapers to some Phoebe had given her of him as a young teen, and had made them into a slide show, complete with music. She waited until the bell rang and students started filing into the lunchroom before she pushed play, but when the pictures started flashing by, none of them were of Arnold. Every single one of them was of Curly. She screamed.
Then Lila came in. Her hair was freshly trimmed and fluffy and she was wearing an attractive sweater, skirt, and boots. Helga tried not to roll her eyes when Lila said, "It's ever so good to see you again, Helga!"
"Yeah-huh. How's it going," Helga replied unenthusiastically.
Lila stood at the end of the food bar with a basket of cookies shaped like her face. It was hard to tell if every guy that took one was drooling over the cookie, or over Lila, but either way she had them coming back for seconds.
Eugene came a little later, followed by a girl with a saxophone, an upright bassist, and a guy wheeling in an amp and carrying an electric guitar. They set up in the corner, and pretty soon the cafeteria echoed with music and Eugene's smooth baritone voice. Helga rubbed her head wildly, pinching her lips against another scream.
The cafeteria was already buzzing with election madness when Arnold and Phoebe took a seat at a table, Gerald catching up to them. They took the table closest to Helga, who was pacing between tables, biting her nails, oblivious to them, watching Eugene and Lila across the cafeteria.
Gerald shook his head at her. "Sheesh. She sure is acting more crazy than usual today."
"She told me she was up all night, making bracelets," Phoebe said. "And she's had more caffeine than is advisable."
Arnold watched her take a sip of the Red Bull she was holding and wipe her mouth on the back of her hand.
"I wonder what's bugging her," Arnold said.
"What do you mean, what's bugging her?" Gerald said. "Nothing's bugging her, she's just really, really into this whole campaign. You should be happy, Arnold. Your plan to make her like you worked, and then some." Gerald took a bite of his pizza before waving the slice around the room. "Just look at all the stuff she's done."
Arnold frowned, remembering her bloodshot blue eyes. "I don't think that's it. She's acting kind of weird. I think she’s fixating on this for some other reason." He looked to Phoebe, who looked like she agreed.
"And how would you know, Arnold?" Gerald said. “Since when does she talk to you about her secrets? I’m sure she's had a lot of caffeine, is all."
Arnold wasn’t convinced. He watched Helga give a couple bracelets from her wrist to some girl. The girl walked away with a flirtatious wave at Arnold, and Helga shot a look over her shoulder at him, only for a split second, before she resumed pacing. He pursed his lips.
"Where," Helga said aloud, "in the hell is Sid? He said he was going to lead a rally in here, damn it..."
(Sid was actually, at that very moment, locked in a broom closet. R.J. had shoved him in while he was walking by, and shut it behind him. Sid pounded on the door, but even when someone did try to let him out, they discovered it was locked. That was the day the urban legend began about a kid who got murdered and whose body was stuffed in the broom closet.
"They say," Gerald would say ominously to a group of Freshmen later that day, "that he was killed because he voted for the wroooong class president. You see, he was the tie-breaker, and, well, he picked the wrong person to vote for. And now you can hear him sometimes, pounding, pounding on the door and saying," his voice grew higher and breathier, "'Let me out! I'll change my vote! I swear! Don't leave me in heeeeeerreeee!'" Gerald was a notorious storyteller, considered an expert on all local legends, and even his most outrageous tales were often taken for fact. This one was easily believed, since poor Sid really was yelling those words through the door in hopes of getting someone to let him out.
It would be a decade before that legend would die out, and until then class elections were taken far more seriously by the students, who were all afraid that if they made the wrong choice the ghost from the broom closet would murder them.)
Back in the cafeteria, Helga was visibily beginning to panic at the growing crowds around both Eugene and Lila. Lenny walked by then, carrying his tray and heading to the table where Arnold was, Teri and Agatha a step behind him. "Hey, Pataki," he said. Helga looked at him, then down at his tray. Arnold watched in astonishment when she grabbed his potato salad off his tray with her bare hand and walked away.
"No need to be grabby, just ask if you're hungry," Lenny said after her, but she ignored him. Arnold, and the others all watched her walk purposefully across the cafeteria, stop a few feet behind Eugene's crowd, pull back her arm, and hurl the potato salad at the closest kid.
"Oh, man," Gerald looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or look at her pitifully. “She’s snapped.”
Arnold could only stare.
The kid with potato salad on the back of his head whirled around, angry. "Hey!" His eyes landed on Helga as she walked toward him, her clean hand on her cheek.
"Oh my goodness!" Arnold distantly heard her say. "Are you all right?"
"Did you throw that at me?" the kid demanded.
She shook her head, eyes wide. "No! I would never!" Taking a napkin from a nearby table she helped him wipe off the potato salad.
"Did you see who did?" he asked.
She put a finger to her chin. "Well...I think..." She turned towards Lila's groupies. "I think it was him." She pointed at Wolfgang. Arnold’s stomach dropped.
"Him?" the boy asked.
Helga nodded. "I'm ever so certain. I'm not surprised, though. Those Lila supporters are so rude. My goodness, you should of heard what they were saying about poor, dear Eugene! They think he's really just a joke and any of his followers are just sad losers." She clucked her tongue and shook her head.
There was no need to say more—the boy was already livid. He said to her, "You might want to get out of the way, I don't want you to get hurt." To which she responded, "Oh my!" Then the boy grabbed a saucer of blue jell-o and hurled it across the cafeteria. Impressively enough, it found its target, splattering against Wolfgang's shoulder and spraying Lila with jell-o in the process. There were exclamations from the group of, "What the fudge muffin?" "Who did that?" "Are you ok, Lila?" and Wolfgang spun around to lay eyes on the boy.
The boy crossed his arms, "That was for Eugene!" he said.
"Oh yeah?" Wolfgang replied. He grabbed a jell-o splattered cookie from Lila's basket and chucked it at Eugene. It smacked Eugene right in the face and since he was already unstable on his crutches, he flew back into the saxophone player. Eugene's crowd and Lila's crowd both turned on each other menacingly.
Arnold was on his feet, already headed toward Helga, who was snickering. Before he could reach her, Curly popped out of nowhere, pointed at him, and shouted, "He’s the one who started this! GET HIM!"
Then all hell broke loose.
Helga walked into her fourth period class, covered in applesauce, leftover green bean casserole, and pumpkin spice frosting. She wasn't the only one sporting the new style of "wearing your lunch"—there were quite a few others in the class who were trying to brush crumbs out of their hair and off their clothes. Arnold wasn't one of them; in fact, he wasn't there.
Helga sat in her seat at the front, waited until the teacher took roll, then raised her hand.
"Yes, Helga?" the teacher said.
"I have to go to the bathroom," she said.
"Class just started, Helga. You should have gone during lunch."
"I didn't have to go then. Now I do. Sorry, teach, it's a lady problem."
"A lady—oh, oh! Yes, of course, go ahead."
Helga left. She didn't head to the bathroom, but straight towards the faculty offices. She passed by administration and attendance and stopped directly outside of the principal's office. There was no window in the door, so she couldn't see inside, but she knew Arnold was in there. She pressed an ear against the wood but couldn't hear anything.
She turned and headed to the nearest school exit, headed down the steps, and rounded the building. She counted windows the whole while and eventually stopped where she thought the principal's window must be. More than anything she wanted to look inside but it was too tall for her to reach. There was a set of dumpsters to her left, but they were too far away and too heavy to be of any use to her.
"Dammit all!" she said. "This is my fault! Curse my rebellious and unpredictable Id! Why did I have to throw that potato salad?"
The food war had been intense. Whoever said teenagers were supposedly supposed to be more mature than five year olds was dead, dead wrong. The scene from minutes ago said otherwise:
Food covered every surface and landed in everyone's hair. Teachers ran back and forth squawking and shrieking and getting pummeled with food themselves. The students were segregated into their three groups, huddling together for safety, then coming up with strategies of how to best invade the other teams. Agatha's white hair had looked like a rainbow of food while she stood in the middle of the room, unblinking, not knowing what to do. Lenny and Stinky were standing on top of a table, tossing banana peels into the middle of the other groups and laughing when someone slipped on them. Rhonda had been in a corner, furiously trying to clean her new pants off, and then becoming so fed up she tossed a piece of cake at Nadine, who threw pasta salad back at her. Then they apologized and headed to the girls' locker room to clean up. Harold wasn't on a specific team—he simply threw food at anyone in front of him. Teri hovered over Phoebe, protecting her from food as she drew out a plan on a piece of paper. Gerald had watched her draw it, nodding, before he turned and led a sneak attack into a group of Eugene-fans who retaliated with a bombardment of diced vegetables. Helga had somehow ended up back to back with Arnold in the middle of the room, each of them holding an armful of pudding cups that they sent splattering onto people.
Arnold had said, "I don't think—watch out, left shoulder—you should have started this, Helga."
"I don't really see you trying to stop it, football—big guy, five o'clock...Nice shot."
"Thanks. But whatever's bugging you, it's not fair to take it out on everyone else."
"Tch! I've been working my tail off for you, nincompoop, and I'm exhausted. That's what's bugging me."
"Oh, come on, Helga. You've been crazy all morning, and it's not for me. What's bugging you?"
Then she had snapped (again) and smashed a pudding cup on his head. "Maybe you're bugging me!" Which was true, but not in the way he had probably thought. He had slowly wiped chocolate pudding out of his eyes, and she had seen he was aggravated. He didn't have time to retaliate with his own pudding, however, because then Curly wheeled by on top of a dirty dish cart, tossing food at them and shouting, "Die! Die! Die!" and about ten seconds after that the principal had stormed in and everything had come to a cold stop.
The principal had sent all the students to class, forbidding them to wash, and then kidnapped all the presidential candidates and hid them away in her office.
"And now he's in there!" Helga said up to the window. "Probably getting kicked out of the election, or suspended, or expelled...grr, and of course it's my fault. I haven't even been at school here a month and already I've ruined his life! I'm the worst polite acquaintance ever."
She honestly felt guilty, even a little bit for the other candidates. All of the crazy things that had been going on hadn't been their fault, it had been their campaign managers, and, well, her. She had tried to tell the principal that when the woman was taking Arnold away, but the principal had said, "I vant to speak vis candidates only," in her scary Russian accent.
Helga really didn't know why she was standing anxiously beneath the principal’s window since it accomplished nothing, but, nonetheless, there she was. She was eyeing the distance to the windowsill, wondering if she could run and jump and catch it, when someone tapped her on the shoulder and she practically jumped out of her skin.
She turned to look up at a tall, pale boy with glasses. He was holding a garbage bag in one hand and she assumed he was here to toss it in a dumpster. And he looked eerily familiar.
"...Brainy?" she asked.
He sniffed and smiled and she contemplated how weird it was that every time she found herself hiding out by a garbage can, he happened to show up. Things seemed not to have changed in seven years. She wondered why she hadn't seen him around school before, but maybe she hadn't spent enough time by garbage cans. He was here now, though, so might as well take advantage.
"Brainy, it’s good to see you, honestly. Can I ask a favor…?"
The principal's office was cold enough that Arnold could see his breath. He sat on a hard, upright chair, remnants of chocolate pudding in his hair, next to an equally messy Eugene and Lila. Around the room stood nine other students of various ages, whom he recognized as the presidential candidates from the other grades. Some were covered in food, but all were glaring down at the Sophomores.
The principal, a five-foot-one woman who looked as though death had come for her and she had bullied it into leaving her alive, sat behind her large impersonal desk, staring them down. Her blood red fingernails tapped against the desktop ominously, making Eugene, who was currently reporting the events of lunch, sweat. Arnold briefly wondered if it was blood. He imagined the principal kept a kid locked up in her desk, and whenever she wanted to redo her nail polish, she could just reach in and cut him open. Maybe she kept him around for snacks, too. She was probably a demon of the night.
Arnold's imagination, always ready to run away, launched into a dimly-lit scenario where he was a brooding vampire, roaming the grassy hills of a graveyard, and making friends with a stake-wielding blonde cheerleader, who looked suspiciously like Helga.
Then he remembered he was mad at Helga, so he locked her in a crypt so she could think about what she had done.
It wasn't the first time Arnold had been in a principal's office, (the last time being in Junior high when he and Gerald broke into the school in order to steal back Sam the janitor's old bowling trophy the school wouldn't let him have) and it probably wouldn't be the final time in his educational career, either. That's not why he was mad. He was mad that, for her, he had cooperatively put on a stupid pink shirt with his face on it that got him laughed at all day; that she had used more than one dirty trick while campaigning for him so now he was getting blamed; that she had started a food fight, for no reason, which gotten other people, and not her, in trouble; and that she was using his campaign as an excuse for chaos when she really had ulterior motives.
He knew the reason she was doing all this wasn't because she suddenly liked him now and wanted him to be president. He didn't know if that knowledge ticked him off more, or if the fact that she was claiming that that was the reason did. Either way, here he was, being interrogated by a woman who might, at any moment, spread bat wings and try to eat his soul.
He was imagining venting his anger by fighting bat-winged demons in a rundown warehouse, alongside Gerald, his werewolf friend, when something in the real world caught his eye. He glanced toward the window.
Helga.
Huh.
He blinked and looked again. There was nothing. Must have been a trick of the light. Besides, that window had to be ten feet above the ground, there was no way she could be there. When he was chalking it all up to his overactive imagination, Helga peeked over the windowsill.
She glanced around the room, ducking again when the boy standing closest to the window shifted. She came back a few seconds later and saw Arnold staring back at her. She waved at him ever so slightly, and then looked panicky when she wobbled unsteadily. She looked down at the ground and said something angrily that made Arnold wonder what on earth she was standing on. And what was she doing there at all?
"Are you quite finished vis your lolly-dreaming?" the principal asked.
Arnold turned to find the principal and everyone else looking at him. "Huh?"
The principal made a sour face, and for a second Arnold thought she might actually grow fangs, but then she turned to survey all three of the Sophomores in front of her. "Zis is not the vay for leaders to behave. You have made it unfair to all the other candidates running," she gestured to the students standing around the edges, "vis all ov your fancy cars and pictures and flashy shirts. And the fighting?" She tsked and shook her head. "And you destroyed one ov our floor vaxing machines. That costs a lot ov money. So. I have assessed the damage, and am sentencing you all to morning detention. I vant you here at six o'clock AM, every morning, until jolly old St. Nicholas comes by and gives you all socks full ov coal. I vill also be calling your parents to help vis the cost."
Lila and Eugene shared guilty, worried looks. It was probably the first time either of them had been in detention. Arnold sighed and looked at the window. An involuntary snort of laughter escaped him when he saw Helga's nose pressed up against the glass while she looked at the principal, probably trying in vain to hear what was happening.
The principal went on, standing and coming around the desk. "Since zis is most ov your first offenses, you may continue running for student government, but if I find you are responsible for anything more than putting a smile on someone's face, I vill track you down and drag you to your own personal Hell. Understood?"
Eugene nodded vigorously and Lila said, "Yes, ma'am."
Arnold was distracted by Helga, who had been startled by a sudden movement of the boy next to the window, causing her to loose her balance. She was bobbing up and down and suddenly her arms pinwheeled furiously. Arnold heard a distant, "Eeek!" and his breath hitched when she literally dropped out of sight.
"Young man."
"Hmm?" He looked up and saw the principal glaring maliciously down at him.
"Vat is your name?" she hissed.
A chill crept up his spine, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Eugene swallow. "Uh, just Arnold."
"Vell, just Arnold," she leaned toward him, and he knew then that his mortal soul was truly in peril. "I vill be keeping a very close eye on you…" She straightened and walked toward the door. "Now all ov you go avay. You are dripping food on my carpet." She yanked open the door, only to find the janitor on the other side, holding Sid by the color.
The janitor tossed Sid inside. "Caught this one messing around in my closet. Banged a hole in the door with a hammer and a mop handle."
"I told you, I was locked in!" Sid countered, but the janitor grunted and left.
Arnold followed the others out of the office, glancing at the empty window. He watched as the door swung closed, and Sid looked back at him, as white as the ghost whose legend he would start. Arnold hoped the principal wouldn't stick Sid in her drawer to save for a midnight snack.
The rest of the students dispersed, and Arnold found himself left with Lila and Eugene, both who were looking quite distraught.
Feeling partly responsible for Helga's actions, Arnold said, "I'm sorry about all this, you guys."
"Oh, Arnold, it's not your fault." Lila shook her head. "R.J. took things too far."
Eugene fiddled with the crutches he was leaning on. "I know most of it was actually Curly's fault. I'm sorry."
Arnold felt a little better to know Helga wasn't the only one going overboard. "How did you guys end up working with them, again?"
"Well, I'm not entirely sure," Lila said. "I didn't know R.J. very well, but he asked if I would like the help, and he's very smart."
Eugene replied, "I'm afraid I had the opposite problem—I knew Curly too well. I didn't dare say no. But Arnold, you're working with Helga, aren't you?"
"Kind of. Technically Sid's my manager, but Helga's been doing a lot of work."
"Great! You're friends now, so guess all that work paid off, eh?" Eugene tried winking, but somehow it threw him off balance and both Arnold and Lila lunged forward to catch him. "I'm ok!"
As they straightened him, Lila said, "I'm going to have a talk with R.J.; I don't think this behavior can go on any longer. Perhaps we can talk Curly into calming down as well, what do you think, Eugene?"
Eugene looked terrified at the thought, but said, "I think we should try."
Arnold nodded. "I'll talk to Sid and Helga, too."
Lila put an arm around Eugene's shoulder when he wobbled. "I'll help you back to class, Eugene."
"Ok, thanks." Eugene hobbled alongside her. "See you tomorrow for the school journal interviews, Arnold."
"Goodbye, Arnold," Lila added, and the two headed down the hall.
Arnold watched them go, thinking how nice they were. He felt bad they had gotten mixed up in this weird battle, since neither of them were really the aggressive or competitive type. The three of them seemed to be being dragged along by their campaign managers. He would have to put a stop to that, though.
He headed down the opposite hall, towards the school entrance. As he expected, he ran into Helga around the corner. "Hey."
She looked surprised to see him. "Oh, hey. So the Trunchbull let you out, huh?"
"Yeah." He looked at her and winced. She looked even worse than she had that morning, with food staining her Team Arnold shirt and her eyes looking even more tired after her caffeine-crash. And now her elbows were covered in scrapes and blood and there was a tear in one pant leg. "Are you ok? Shouldn't you get some band-aids?"
"Nah, I'm fine. What's the verdict?" she asked. "You on death row? We don't have to set up Madam Guillotine or anything this afternoon?"
"No, nothing like that. Just detention. She even said I can still run for president."
She rubbed the back of her head, where she had probably hit it when she fell, and looked relieved. "Well, that's good, I guess. Could have been worse, right?"
He smiled slightly. "Were you worried? Is that why you were spying from the window?"
"What, tch, no! I was not worried. I just wanted to see if there was any bloodshed happening. I was disappointed, to say the least." She put her nose in the air.
There she went, being all aloof again. That was one thing about her that hadn’t changed. But he knew better. He took her upper arm and pulled her down the hall, ignoring her protest. He stopped outside the front office.
“Don’t move,” he told her. She opened her mouth and gave her a stern look. “Helga, don’t move.”
She made a face and he left her there, quickly asking for some band-aids at the front desk. He returned and pulled Helga around the corner to a bench.
"I don't need 'em," Helga said while he peeled a band-aid open. She shifted to stand and he grabbed her arm again and sat her back down.
"Just hold still," he ordered with a glare.
His anger seemed to be keeping her on her good behavior. She grumbled unintelligibly to herself while he stuck brown bandages over the scrapes on her arms. "Is your head ok?” he asked.
“It’s fine.”
“How were you up there anyway?"
"I was standing on Brainy," she said.
"You were what?"
"Standing on Brainy."
He decided not to ask more. He tossed the excess papers in a garbage can and started down the hall back to their fourth period class. Helga followed. He said, "Helga, from now on no more of this propaganda-with-a-vengeance stuff."
"No more? How will you win then? You can't compete against Curly and R.J. if you don't—"
"I don't care, I'm not doing it that way. I don't want to win by all this junk." He pulled at the hem of his shirt.
"Hey, that 'junk' cost me a crap load, I'll have you know," she said.
"I'm sure it did, and I'm grateful for the help, Helga. But I don't think this is the right way to win, and I don't think this is the way to help you fix whatever’s really bugging you."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come off it. Not that again."
"Deny it all you want, I know there's something bothering you."
"There's nothing."
"Yes there is."
"No there isn't."
"There is."
"There isn't."
"Is."
"Isn't."
"Fine, don't tell me. I guess it's not my business," he said, annoyed.
"No, it's not," she shot back.
"But running for president is my business, so if you're going to help, we're doing it my way."
" Your way?"
He said firmly, "Yes, my way. Your way started a food fight and sent me and two other people to the principal's office and got us morning detention for two months."
He expected a defensive retort, but she threw up her hands, exasperated. "I know, I know! It was entirely my fault, I know that none of you should have been there." She glared at the floor a moment as they walked and said, "I'm sorry."
Arnold stopped and looked at her with raised eyebrows. Well. He knew she felt sorry, since she scaled the side of a building and then subsequently fallen almost a dozen to check on him, but here she'd come out and said, actually vocalized, an apology. He remembered a time when she would have died rather than say she was sorry. And he didn't even have to goad it out of her, like he used to as a kid. She had done it all by herself.
She was mumbling, avoiding his gaze. "I should probably...go...tell the principal...or somethin'..."
He was getting that feeling again, the one that he got more and more frequently when he was around her. Like his bones felt lighter. "Don't worry about it," he said.
She looked at him like he was the one who had bumped his head. "Don't worry about it? Aren't you ticked you're doing time for me?"
"Of course." But he was feeling generous. She was bleeding for him, after all. Literally. "So just think of it this way: you owe me."
"I owe you?"
"Yep. You owe me big time." He smirked at her, which seemed to make her a bit shy.
"I dunno if that's better. I think I'll just take the detention." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, twisting her finger in the hem of her shirt with his face on it.
Cute. "Too late."
He would have forgiven her anyway, but it made his day to hear her apologize to him. To know she had been worried, to see her face pop over the principal’s windowsill. Mentally, he returned to the dark graveyard and let her out of the crypt. The cheerleader version of her told him if he did it again she'd throw holy water in his face, but then they decided to get some milkshakes.
The real life Helga was narrowing her eyes at him. "What are you grinning at?" she asked suspiciously.
"Nothin'. I'm in the mood for milkshakes. How about you?"
"Milkshakes?"
"Big Gino has foods class right now, and he's always willing to sell snacks under-the-table out the window to the highest bidder."
She scoffed. "You seriously do have some screws loose. It's, like, forty degrees outside, jelly brain. Hot chocolate is obviously the better option. And I'm only goin' if you're payin'."
"Whatever you say, Helga."
Chapter 6: No Escape
Chapter Text
In the auditorium behind the main stage was a room students called The Little Theater, which the journalism and broadcasting club had confiscated as their personal studio. A makeshift, curved news anchor’s desk sat in the center of the room, and an assortment of light stands and cameras had been set up in front of it. Peapod Kid sat at the desk, flipping through his notes while an assistant combed his hair.
The room was dark except for the stage lights, and camera and light techs rushed back and forth while a girl with a headset hollered around the room, "We're on in five! We're starting with the Freshmen, so be ready to enter stage left!"
The presidential candidates lined the walls of the room dressed in their finest presidential attire. Some practiced their answers to proposed questions, and others were receiving pep talks from their campaign managers. Helga leaned against a wall with her arms crossed, watching the production crew busy at work and the presidential students nervously waiting. A couple feet away, Arnold was sitting on a bench. Every few seconds he pulled at his green sweater vest and tie, and Helga resisted the urge to tell him to stop. Sid paced in front of them.
"Just calm down, Arnold, you just need to be calm, ok?" Sid said, absently tearing their questionnaire into little pieces.
"I am calm," Arnold said.
"Good, good...you remember all of the questions? And your answers?"
"Yes."
Sid tripped over an extension cord and Helga said, "He's not the one who needs to chill.”
The girl with the head set situated the first Freshman candidate in his seat opposite Peapod Kid, then said, "Quiet on set! We're live in 3, 2..." She pointed at the camera.
Peapod Kid began his live morning show (every Wednesday and Friday during first period, which only the government classes and about a dozen homemaker moms watched) and introduced the very nervous looking Freshman in front of him.
"They're starting! Shh!" Sid shushed his team in a loud whisper before turning to watch with a serious cross of the arms. Helga and Arnold shared a weary look.
Peapod Kid was a dry humored, straight faced host, so the terrified Freshman class went by quickly and uneventfully, and soon Lila was sauntering across the stage in a sparkly dress and fancy high heels. Lila was her sincerely sweet self and half the guys in the room blushed, and two girls, Helga noticed, while she tactfully answered each question. Somehow or other, Lila and Peapod Kid got to talking about Lila's many talents. To everyone's surprise Peapod Kid asked to hear a song.
"They're going off script!" Sid said indignantly. "Can they do that? Can they go off script?"
But Lila had already stood and was beginning a hauntingly sad song from Les Miserables in her clear, strong voice. At the end a few light assistants cried, the candidates for the older grades were sniffling, and Peapod Kid wiped a tear from under his mirrored aviators and said, "Oh, my, that was terribly, terribly wonderful."
Lila said modestly, "Oh, my, no, I simply do what I can. I believe that every talent a person has is meant for the betterment of the world—I only perform if it can bring warmth to the heart of someone who needs it."
Peapod Kid nodded, "Indeed, Ms. Sawyer. I have no doubt you are the single most gracious woman this side of the highway. This school would be blessed to have you on the student council."
In a far corner, Curly flipped a table while Eugene cowered from him. Sid pulled his baseball hat off his head and threw it on the ground in despair. R.J. was on the other side of the room, and he wiggled his fingers, waving at Helga haughtily.
"Welp, we're doomed," Helga said dryly.
Arnold was tapping his fingers against his knee in serious thought. "Not yet, we're not..."
Helga snorted. "Are you kidding, she had them eating out of the palm of her hand. They were literally weeping. I thought someone was going to run up there and kiss her feet. Face it, you're chopped liver."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he responded just as dryly. "We just need to think of how to get their attention..."
"Well, don't ask me, you don't like my way of doing things. What are you going to do, Mr. Do-It-Your-Way? Get all preachy about teamwork and the spirit of democracy again? Somehow I don't think that'll cut it this time, Shortman."
He looked pensive. "We need a way to get Peapod Kid on our side. If we have him, then we have the press…" He snapped his fingers and stood up. "I got it! Keep an eye on Sid, I gotta call Gerald." He headed toward the exit.
"Gerald? What's Gerald gonna do? Wait, Arnold!" But Arnold was out the door. She looked at Sid who was sitting on the ground, crying a little. "Sheesh, get a hold of yourself."
On stage, Eugene had taken Lila's place. For someone who was onstage often, he looked uncharacteristically nervous. Curly was standing at the side of the stage, whispering wildly at Eugene, and the girl with a headset was trying to get him to shut up. Eugene did all right answering the questions, finally falling into his confident on-stage persona. He faltered, however, when Peapod Kid brought up Eugene's talents.
Helga wasn't sure if she should laugh or feel sorry while a panicking Eugene tried a spontaneous tap dance number, one leg in a boot-cast, Curly yelling at him, "Yes! Right, left, right! Do a spin! Spin! Mwahaha!" The girl in the head set ordered a couple assistants to take Curly out, and they dragged him away kicking and biting. Just then Eugene tripped over a camera cord and fell off the platform, ending his sad dance. A couple girls around the room gasped and he said, "I'm ok!"
Peapod Kid, continuously straight faced, said, "What a terribly, terribly...interesting performance. And that was Eugene Horrowitz, candidate for Sophomore class president. Moving on, we have Arnold," he looked at his cue-card, "Hmm, I can't read the last name. Who's handwriting is this?"
Helga panicked and looked to the door for Arnold, only to be shocked when he walked onstage from the other direction. Sid grabbed Helga’s sleeve, asking how on earth he had gotten there. Helga didn’t answer, staring as Arnold shook Peapod Kid’s hand and sat down.
The questions were those from their questionnaire, "What'll you do as president? How do you feel about the new school policies? Where do you stand concerning the new curfew? Do you have any plans to help better the lunch menu? Etc." Arnold answered all as he was supposed to, and Peapod Kid steepled his fingers and nodded. Then, going off script as he had before, Peapod Kid asked Arnold about himself, what he liked to do, and if he felt he had any special talents.
"I don't know about special," Arnold said. Helga and Sid held their breaths, wondering what he was going to do. "I think anyone can do anything if they set their mind to it. That's all I've ever done."
"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm...And is there anything specific you'd like to share with us today?" Peapod Kid asked.
"Um," Arnold shot a look toward the shadows in the back of the room, and continued, speaking slowly, "Well, I did think of a few things I can do, like karate, or the tango, or playing the harmonica, or doing a scene from a play..."
Off stage Sid said desperately, "What's he doing?"
"Looks like he's stalling," Helga replied. Her insides were roiling, tense on Arnold's behalf. "Criminy, he doesn't have anything. We're done for."
Arnold continued, "...or the waltz, or sing a song, or synchronized swimming, or disco, or speak German, or draw a picture, or—"
Peapod Kid cut him off, "I may remind you we are on live television."
"And I decided on one thing specifically." Arnold stood from his seat and looked down at his host. "But I can't do it without your help."
"My help?" Peapod Kid raised his eyebrows.
Then the blue backdrop behind the anchorman's desk fell forward with a loud CRASH . A chuckle emanated forward, "Mwahahaha..." Strobe lights flickered wildly on a scene that Helga, or anyone, was expecting.
Gerald stood with a bass guitar slung around his neck, dark sunglasses on his eyes. He struck a power cord.
"Good morning, Hillwood!" he called out. Behind him, Harold sat behind a drum set, twirling a drumstick in one hand, his foot beating the pedal for the bass drum. A keyboard sat vacant to the right and an electric guitar stood on a stand to the left, waiting.
"Well, get over here, dudes!" Harold yelled. "Let's make some music!"
"What do you say, Peapod Kid?" Arnold asked. "How about a reunion performance, just for today?"
Peapod Kid looked at the band blankly and everyone around the room was silent. After a moment, he stood and moved forward to take up the lone guitar, playing a shockingly fast and wailing rift, his fingers flying across the strings. He smirked. "Excellent."
"All right, my man, let's do this thing!" Gerald moved forward as Arnold took his place behind the keyboard. "Hillwood," Gerald said into the standing microphone in front of him, "for today and today only, Gerald and the Kings reunite! How many of you remember that popular old ditty, Sunset Arms?"
Harold smacked his drumsticks together, "One! Two! Three! Four!"
Music filled the Little Theater, the beat of the bass pounding in the soles of the onlookers' feet. The girl in the headset ordered the camera men forward for better angles, and soon a small crowd of the production crew, candidates, and their managers were standing around Gerald and the Kings, bobbing their heads.
Gerald's low raspy voice carried across the room, and Arnold sang back up. The song had an upbeat, warm feeling, reminiscent of 70s pop and modern alternative, with lyrics like "holding you is like holding the sun (Leave me blind and blistered!)" and "ghosts haunt this house when you're not home (Come on ho-o-o-ome!)" More than one audience member was singing along.
Helga didn't sing along, but she knew all the words.
Gerald and the Kings had been brought together early in the ninth grade, since over the summer Gerald started learning the bass guitar in order to "be chill." Arnold already knew the piano, and Harold had joined shortly after (since his parents had him learning the drums as an outlet for his bratty teenage attitude). Peapod Kid had been a surprise addition—originally it had been Eugene, but the redhead had broken his arm before their first gig at Slausen's Ice Cream parlor. Peapod Kid had stepped forward and saved Gerald and the Kings when he revealed his killer guitar skills.
The band had risen to immediate fame, becoming the most popular local band in Hillwood for a glorious three months. Then Eugene started his own rival band, the band had a falling out, and everyone decided to go their own ways. Only a handful of EPs remained, and one of these was in the hands of a certain Phoebe Heyerdahl. Helga had, nonchalantly, borrowed the CD for a month and had listened to it over and over. Her favorite song had been Lost in San Lorenzo , which had a definite bluesy quality to it, and she imagined that to be Arnold's influence. She knew that if she'd had the chance to see them perform live, she would have been just as crazy as their other teen fans.
Arnold took over singing lead and Helga listened to the familiar song, trying not to pick out his voice too much. Which was impossible. His low, easy voice washed over everyone like sunlight. She vaguely wondered if the pounding in her chest was the bass or her heart. It was probably just the bass.
Next to her, Sid stood on top of the bench, wiggling his butt and pointing toward Arnold, "Oh, yeah! You're the man! You're getting elected for sure!"
The song Sunset Arms reached its climax when Peapod Kid took over with a ripping solo, and ended with a final three crashing notes that the four boys banged their head to in unison. The last chord hung in the air and the small crowd cheered. The band bowed and then began to break up, Peapod Kid wandering back over to his anchorman's desk. He dabbed at his sweaty forehead and sat in his chair and called on stage Annie Kay, the first Junior class candidate, who looked horrified that she had to follow up Gerald and the Kings. (The rest of the interviews went rather slowly and pathetically, with Annie standing on her head for three minutes as her talent, another Junior boy burping the ABC's backwards, and a Senior guessing the color of M&M's as he ate them blindfolded. Even so, it was still the most widely watched morning of Peapod's show in its entire history, and clips of Gerald and the Kings were immediately put online for teenagers of Hillwood to admire everywhere.)
Behind the platform and poor Annie on her head, a small crowd hovered around the band as they took down the drums and unplugged the amps. Sid broke through the fans as the band gathered at the back door and Helga followed.
Sid was so excited he took Arnold by the front of the shirt and shook him."Boy howdy, you guys were awesome! Awesome! At first we thought you weren't going to show up, and then, kabow! The back wall came down!" He let go and high fived Harold three times before the bigger boy put him in a headlock and rubbed his head affectionately.
"Thanks, Sid," Arnold said. He turned to Gerald. "For a minute I thought you guys wouldn't make it."
"For a minute, so did I." Gerald bumped Arnold's fist and they wiggled their thumbs. "But, come on, who's the coolest?"
"You are, man."
"You know that's right." Gerald turned to the door, his guitar on his back and the mic in his hand, and spotted Helga. "Hey, Helga, baby, how'd you like the show?" He put his sunglasses back on dramatically. "You fallin' in love with me yet?"
"Ew," Helga said. "I think I just vomited a little."
Gerald laughed and headed out the door. Harold carried the amps out behind him and said, "Ha ha! Pataki in love! Oh, that's good..."
Helga turned to Arnold as he stepped by, his keyboard under one arm. "Admit it, Helga. You like my way." He winked at her and followed his band out the door.
That time Helga couldn't pretend it was the bass beating in her chest.
Arnold sat on the cold concrete at twilight, watching the shadows grow in the alley around him. Gerald stood a couple feet away, watching the front door of a purple house across the street.
Gerald checked his watch for the third time in the last thirty seconds. "Six fifty-three...It's kind of windy. What if the candles blew out?"
"They're in tall glasses, I'm sure they're fine," Arnold replied calmly.
"Yeah...Uh-oh, that looks like a pigeon up there, what if it comes down and eats the pumpkins?"
"The last I checked, pigeons don't eat pumpkins. Calm down, Gerald, it's all going to be fine."
"Yeah, ok, ok."
Twenty minutes before hiding in the alley, Gerald and Arnold had knocked on Phoebe Heyerdahl's door. She wasn't home, she was tutoring a nearby neighbor kid like she did every Wednesday night. They had planned for this, so Gerald kindly asked Mrs. Heyerdahl if he could borrow their front stoop for a bit. Then they had laid out little candles in tall glasses and pumpkins with smiling jack-o-lantern faces carved in them, and topped it off with an assortment of orange and red roses piled here and there. The final piece of the arrangement was an envelope with "Phoebe" scrawled on the front in Gerald's best handwriting. Now all that was left to do was wait for her to come home.
The alley was filled with silence as they waited. Arnold could hear the sounds of a TV show distorted by the window above him, and someone a floor or two up was making a dinner that smelled delicious. He was hungry and cold, but he had promised Gerald he would be there for moral support.
Arnold rolled his eyes when he saw his friend checking his watch again. "Calm down, it's not even seven yet. Her mom said she'd be home anywhere between seven and seven-thirty."
"I know. What if she doesn't like it?" Gerald asked.
"Why wouldn't she like it? Chill, Gerald. Why are you so worked up, anyway? You've been on dates with Phoebe before."
"Yeah, in elementary school. We were ten."
"What about the Valentine's dance in seventh grade?"
"That doesn't count. I liked Maggie Ray then, and she was hanging out with that artsy guy, Vonnie, or whatever. We just went as friends."
Arnold shook his head. "Well, she likes you for sure now, so there's nothing to worry about."
"I know she likes me, but I can't help it! I'm just nervous. This isn't like all those other times I asked girls out—this is Phoebe . She's so smart and funny and cute...I've liked her since, what? Forever? Sure, I had crushes on other girls, but, c'mon. We all knew it was gonna be me and Phoebe."
"Yeah, we did," Arnold agreed.
Gerald and Phoebe had liked each other for as long as Arnold could remember. Once in a while one or the other would wander off and like someone else, but eventually they would come back around to each other. It kind of annoyed Arnold, actually, whenever Gerald started liking some new girl. He supported his bro, sure, but the whole time he kept wondering why in the heck Gerald didn't see Phoebe. She was so obviously right in front of him and right for him. But Gerald had to discover it for himself—which he had, like a slap to the face, when she started dating R.J. White.
Ugh, R.J. White. Arnold tried not to dislike anyone, but R.J. did push some serious buttons. On purpose. The guy came off as very smooth, polite, and intelligent, but, upon further acquaintance, he was all around pretty slimy. Phoebe had been swayed by his good looks and his brains, but it hadn't taken her long to uncover the real R.J. Gerald had literally jumped with joy the day they broke up.
"Anyway," Gerald nudged Arnold with his foot, "I think there's a girl for you, too, but you'd better decide fast."
"I know, but I'm still trying to work it out. We used to have such a chaotic relationship. Looking back, though, even with all that, she always seemed to be there right when I needed her. But am I mistaking that for something more than it was?"
"...Man, what the hell are you talking about?"
Arnold glanced at Gerald, who gave him a funny look. "Uh...What were you talkin' about?" Arnold asked.
"I was talking about you getting a girl for the dance." Gerald narrowed his eyes. "What's all this mumbo jumbo about 'needing her'? What girl are you talking about?"
"Ahh, oh, well...Phoebe."
"You’re talking about Phoebe?" Gerald looked like he might punch him.
"No, there's Phoebe." Arnold pointed.
Gerald whipped around and pressed himself against the alley wall while Arnold crouched forward. Phoebe was walking along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street, books tucked under her arm. She paused when she reached the display on her front stoop and glanced around. She bent to get a better look, talking a long whiff of a rose, before picking up the note with her name.
"You're up, Gerald," Arnold said. Gerald didn't move so Arnold had to shove him out of the alley.
Gerald crossed the street, unnoticed by Phoebe until he was behind her. She turned, holding the letter, and Arnold watched the two shuffle their feet, embarrassed. They exchanged a few words Arnold couldn't hear, then all at once Phoebe flung her arms around Gerald's neck with an excited "YES!" that echoed down the street.
Arnold smiled and watched his friends laugh and hug, and then he left the alley and wandered down the street, leaving the two of them surrounded by candles in the quickly darkening night. He passed beneath streetlight after streetlight on the beaten path toward home.
He paused in front of an all-too familiar house. It was a tall, blue town home, and a couple lights were on, giving the building a warm, lively glow. A family with three small kids lived there now, the Barreda family, but it had once been home to the Patakis.
Arnold watched his visible breath curl into the air as he stood outside the front stoop. He still had Gerald and Phoebe on the brain, and standing there now he wondered what would have happened if Helga had stayed living there. Would they have continued as they had as children, continually picking at each other? Or, maybe, just maybe, would they have turned out like Gerald and Phoebe? He didn't know. But he wondered if it wasn't too late to find out.
A side window slid open and a small boy with dark curls poked his head out. "Oye , Arnold!"
"Hola , Sammy," Arnold replied.
"Have you come for dinner?"
"No, I'm just walking by."
Sammy's father came up behind him and Sammy said, "Papa, Arnold ha venido para la cena!"
Mr. Barreda poked his head out. "Has he? Ah, hola, Arnold. I'm glad you are here, I have been meaning to thank you for helping Samuel with his Ingles; he does much better in school now."
"No problem, Mr. Barreda. Anytime."
"Won't you come in, porfavor?"
Arnold smiled. "All right, but only for a bit. My grandparents are expecting me home soon."
"Si, si, of course." Mr. Barreda and Sammy left the window and Arnold climbed the steps. Sammy ripped open the door, his little sister Raquel coming up behind him.
"Buenos noches, Arnold, have you come to see me, mi amor?" Raquel clasped her arms behind her and twisted side to side in her pink tutu.
"Of course! You look very pretty today." Arnold patted the top of her head.
"Maria!" Mr. Barreda called out, heading further into the house. "Set another place at the table, Arnold has come!"
"Arnold ha venido?" came Maria's call back. "It's about time!"
Sammy and Raquel led the way into the house, fighting over who got to sit next to their guest at the table, and Arnold stepped inside. He shut the door behind him, pretending for a minute that it was the Pataki's who had invited him inside for dinner.
Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was the type of girl who knew exactly what she wanted and when she wanted it, and if you didn't have it, she was not a happy camper. When Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was not a happy camper, no one was.
Helga sat at a desk in the classroom where the dance committee met on Thursdays during lunch. She listened indifferently while Rhonda ranted up at the front. She was saying, "I cannot believe the complete lack of creativity in this room! Paper mache Jack-o-lanterns? You must be joking!"
Ashlee, Rhonda's co-chair for the dance, sat at the teacher's desk, filing her nails and nodding, and a dozen students sat around the room, looking bored. Nadine was one of them, gluing black bats to a poster, and so was a short brunette with freckles, whom Helga recognized as Curly's girlfriend, whom Helga had met on her first day. Her name was Hettie, and Helga had found herself staring at her more than once, wondering how in the hell she was dating the nut case. Next to Helga, Moze yawned and doodled basketball hoops and team logos in the margins of his notebook.
Helga's eyes unconsciously wandered toward an empty seat two rows over from her, where Arnold had sat last week. Today he was in the teacher's lounge, eating some fancy-pants French food with the other presidential candidates, while she sat in here, being lectured on accurate usage of the gym's architectural space and what colors best complimented the buffet table.
Helga toed her backpack that leaned against her desk. The scarf Arnold had let her borrow on Monday was inside—she had meant to return it to him, but had yet to, and now it seemed awkward. Why should it be awkward? she thought. It's his scarf. Just give him the stupid thing and be done with it. Yet every time she went to do it, her nerve totally died. It was rather annoying, actually.
"Just one more day," she said quietly to herself, rubbing her temples. "One more day, and then he'll be gone."
The next morning was Friday: election day. She was completely confident that he would be elected—his prospects had been pretty good before, and since Gerald and the Kings’ surprise performance, everyone was buzzing with news of Arnold. On her desk, Helga had the school newspaper, and a snapshot of Gerald and the Kings was on the front. The Sophomore presidential interviews were posted on page 3, with some clever quotes from all three candidates, but what caught most everyone's attention was the cover story. There was little doubt in Helga’s mind that he would be president.
Helga clicked her pen and drew a careful mustache on Arnold's black and white picture.
This is a good thing, she reminded herself. Lately she felt him crawling under her skin. Polite acquaintances didn’t crawl under one’s skin. Or gently place band-aids on your arms. Or buy you hot chocolate and milkshakes. Or sing romantic songs with their band that got stuck in your head all night.
Soon I'll be safe . Soon he would be president and he would be far too busy to spend time with a lowly acquaintance and she wouldn't have to worry about him crawling under her skin anymore because she would probably hardly ever see him. She sighed.
"You ok, Ladybird?" Moze asked.
She glanced over at him. "Peachy."
"You sure? You look like someone died."
She shrugged. "Yeah, I think I died. All this decoration crap is making my brain melt. Seriously, who cares if the table cloths are pumpkin-orange or summer-squash-orange."
He chuckled. "I'm glad I'm not on the decoration team. I only have to help mold meatballs into brains and buy candy corn."
"Lucky."
Up front Rhonda finished her lecture and said, "All right, people, in two Saturdays is the dance, which means next week we go into overdrive. I want this dance to be big, bigger than prom—I want every single student there, so that means posters on every wall, got that? So you'll all be splitting into pairs in your groups and making posters. The Friday before is set-up day, which means every single one of you had better be in the west gym at exactly 4 o'clock. On the dance day in question, all of you had better be there early in order to help with the buffet tables, lights, and anything else we need all night. Capiche?"
Nadine raised her hand. "What if we have a date?" A couple other kids nodded, including Hettie, Curly's girlfriend.
"Well, if you have a date, you're off the hook during the dance. I, for example, also have a date, so Ashlee will be in charge, because she's probably not going to get one."
Ashlee glared at Rhonda.
"I'll go with you, Ashlee," a boy in the front row said.
"Not on your life, Jason," Ashlee retorted.
"That's ok, we can work together at the buffet." He wiggled his eyebrows and Ashlee scoffed.
Helga said, "What, so we’re used as free labor while everyone else gets to have fun? How the hell is that fair?"
"You're doing a good thing for other people," Rhonda said. "You get good fuzzy feelings. Now break up into your groups and get to work."
Helga pushed back her chair, grumbling. The groups separated, but before Helga could get to hers, Rhonda handed her a huge stack of papers. "Here take these down to the photocopy center. I asked for front and back but they only gave me front."
"I'll go with you," Moze said, taking half the stack.
"Well, how kind of you, Carlos," Rhonda cooed up at him and shooed them both away.
Helga and Moze walked down the hall in step, both complaining about how the committee had to work during the dance. They were already busting their butts trying to pull together "Rhonda's vision," why should they not even be able to enjoy their hard work?
"Well, you got it easy," Moze said. "You don't have to work, since you have that boyfriend."
"As if, I don't have a boyfriend," she asked.
"Aren't you dating Arnold?"
She barked out a laugh. "Oh, oh-ho, oh, no, he's not my boyfriend. No."
"He's not?"
"Heck no."
"Oh, I just assumed. I always see you guys together and stuff."
"No, no, I'm just helping him with his presidential campaign this week," she insisted.
"Ah, ok." Moze perked up. "Well, hey, then, why don't we go together!"
"Go where?"
"To the dance. It'll be fun. We can go with Teri and Lenny, and your little albino friend. It'll be like an East Side High reunion. A last hoo-rah as East Siders."
"Yeah, all right. That could be fun. Better than spooning punch to a bunch of dorks all night," she said. And watching Arnold dance with whatever obnoxiously cute girl he was going to go with, and Phoebe and Gerald, who were being disgustingly cute together since he had asked her to be his girlfriend yesterday. But the dance would be a good distraction from a certain football cranium, at the very least, and hanging with her friends would be fun.
"Yeah, let's all go. Who needs a date, anyway?" she said.
"No, actually, I did mean as a date," Moze said.
"What, you? With me?"
"Yeah, with you."
Then she tripped and sent her stack of papers flying.
Big Bob looked down at his daughter, hands on his hips. Helga sat cross legged on the coffee table, eyes closed and hands palm-up. This wasn't the first time he had caught her doing some weird cult voodoo in his house, but that didn't mean he had to like it, especially not this early on a Friday morning.
"For crap's sake, Helga, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded.
Without opening her eyes Helga replied, "It's called meditation, Dad. It's supposed to help me clear my mind and release the spiritual toxins in my body."
"Well get off the table and release your toxins on the floor."
"No can do, pops. Dr. Loveless said to do it off the ground. It's symbolic for leaving the harsh world of love behind and moving on to higher realms."
He was now completely convinced she was nuts. "Fine, whatever, if you want to be high in other realms, do it on the couch. Just get off the table, you're scuffing the lacquer."
Her eyes opened and she rolled them. "Oh, please, lacquer is hardly more important than me finding my center without the aid of dopamine and the rush I get from obsessive compulsive behavior. I'm currently learning the inner art of peace and creating a mental shield so I can protect my feminine self from the unrealistic romances of the past."
Big Bob looked clueless, then quickly recovered with a frown. "Oh, come on, that's all girl stuff. You don't need that junk."
"I am a girl," she reminded him.
"Huh? Well, yeah...I know that."
She glared at him.
"But high or not you're gonna be late for the bus. Get off the table."
She sighed, rolling her eyes again, and got off. Miriam came in as Helga was grabbing her backpack and pulled off her daughter's gray beanie.
"Miriam, what are you doing?" Helga held still, suspicious, as her mother pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
"I just saw this in the bathroom. You should look nice for your thing today. Olga always dressed up to go on stage," her mother replied.
"I'm not the one going on stage, I don't gotta look nice."
Miriam stepped away and Helga fingered the pink ribbon in her hair. It was thin and light pink, matching her eyeshadow, and her mother had left the ends long and ladylike. She had worn it on occasion, like to Olga’s wedding, and every time it reminded her of the same one she had worn her entire elementary career. That one was worn and old and tucked into her drawer. Hmm. To pull it out or not to pull it out, that was the question.
"Move it, Pataki, you're going to be late for the bus, and there's no way in heck I'm drivin' you," Bob said, and Helga left the ribbon alone.
Miriam called as Helga opened the door, "Tell your little friend good luck on his thing!"
Helga shot over her shoulder, "He's not my friend, he's just my polite acquaintance!" and shut the front door without another goodbye.
Bob scratched his belly. "Sheesh, that kid's head is going all mushy. First she's quitting basketball, then she's making T-shirts and reading voodoo blogs...it just ain't right, I tell you."
"You know, I think she has a little boy she likes," Miriam said.
"What?" Bob threw his head back and laughed. "A boy! That's rich. Maybe when pigs fly." He stopped when he turned to his wife. "Miriam, not you too! Get off the coffee table!"
"I'm going to kill that football head!" Helga said to herself. "Where in the hell is he?"
She stood backstage in the auditorium, among the belays and wires and curtains. Technically, she wasn't really supposed to be there, but Mrs. Joy, the student council teacher, had given up on trying to get her to leave. On stage, the Junior class candidates stood behind podiums, giving their little speeches, while the Junior class sat in the auditorium seats. The Seniors had come and gone already that morning, and in about thirty minutes it would be the Sophomores' turn. So where was Sid, the campaign manager? Where was Arnold, the candidate in question? Helga was asking herself the very same things.
"Good morning, Helga," Lila said. She paused as she passed, her pretty green dress swaying around her knees. R.J. was behind her, and he looked down his nose at Helga in her torn jeans.
"Yeah, it's a great morning. Peaches and cream and pea soup outside," Helga said grumpily.
"Where's Arnold?" Lila asked.
"Your guess is as good as mine."
"Oh, no, I hope he gets here on time!"
"Yes, indeed," R.J. said, "It would be a...shame for him to miss it."
Helga narrowed her eyes at him and he smiled pleasantly and turned away. She wouldn't be the least surprised if he'd had something to do with the delay. She was pretty thoroughly convinced that he had paid off the journalism and broadcasting club to change the questionnaires, too. Luckily, Arnold had been able to pull ahead with his performance.
"I'm sure he'll be here, Helga, don't worry." Lila patted Helga's shoulder. "Wish him luck for me!"
"Sure, sure."
Lila wandered off, her stupid manager behind her. Helga glanced over at Eugene, who was sitting on a folding chair on the other side of the stage while Curly stood in front of him, lecturing him on whatever he should or shouldn't say. Helga felt more threatened by Curly than R.J. It seemed R.J. was more into bribes and manipulation, and she felt they could handle that. Curly, however, was a loose cannon. He could blow any second. She needed a way to distract him, keep him occupied so he didn't have time to do anything insane. The problem was that she had told Arnold she wouldn't do any dirty tricks...but maybe she could get someone else to do it for her?
She left her spot against the wall and wandered to a curtain, making sure no stage assistants were around. She stepped behind it. Ok. This had better work.
"Oh, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways!" She put a hand to her heart and sighed. "I love thee to the depth and breadth and height thine hair can reach! I love thee to the end of every day as you quietly read, by sun and candle-light! I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears of all my life!" She glanced around expectantly, but no one was there. Grr. She wouldn't actually have to say his name, would she? Fine. "And, if thou, beautiful stranger, might permit, I shall but love thee better after death, my dearest Arn—" She froze.
There was a very distinct, warm breath on the back of her neck. She spun around to face Brainy.
"Ha! No way, that actually worked!" She had summoned him here, actually called him forth from the shadows, or wherever it was he came from, with a stupid love poem! He was kind of like a genie. All her childhood she had hated his sudden appearances, but why on earth hadn't she used them to her advantage before?
Brainy smiled down at her, confused, an extension cord and duct tape in his hand. Helga looked down at them. "What are those for?" she asked.
"Leslie wanted them over there," he responded in his deep voice, sniffing.
"Well, whoever Leslie is, she's gonna have to wait." She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him around the curtain. "You see Curly over there?" Brainy nodded. "I want you to do me a favor—go over there, and, I dunno. Distract him. Use that cord or tape or something."
"Um, but I have to—"
"Do it later, dweeb, this is more important! Democracy is at stake here! Get over there and just do whatever to keep him from bugging us." She pushed Brainy forward, and then said as an after thought, "You know. Please and thank you?"
Brainy nodded and wandered over to Eugene and Curly.
Helga rubbed her hands together. "One down, one to go, heh heh. Poor sap, didn't even know I wasn't serious. He probably thought I actually wrote that poem for Arn—Arnold!" She had turned around only to find that Arnold had popped up out of thin air. " What are you doing? Don't sneak up on me! Criminy!"
"Sorry, Helga." He was breathing kind of heavy, and his hair and the shoulders of his corduroy jacket were damp.
"Where have you been?" she demanded as he shrugged off the jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. "I've been freaking out!"
"I know, sorry." He pulled at the sleeves of his white button up shirt and tried to smooth out his slacks. She noticed he was wearing the old blue baseball hat he'd had as a kid. It didn't match his outfit and it was way too small now, but she didn't mind. She had kind of missed seeing it. She wondered why he was wearing it today. It felt too personal to ask.
"I went to leave this morning, and there was a wall of cinder-blocks right outside my front and back doors, and boards on the windows," Arnold said.
She gaped at him. "What, seriously?"
He sat to re-tie a shoelace. "Seriously. We had to get out Ernie—you remember, that lives in the boarding house?—we had to get his battering ram out and knock down the wall, but by then I'd missed the bus, so we had to take the Packard, but the Packard was being towed, so we had to talk the tow guy out of taking it, which took longer than I would have liked." He sighed and looked frustrated, running a hand through his hair. Cinder-block debris fell from his hair and landed on his lap. He dusted it off angrily.
Helga stepped forward and brushed a patch of dust off his shoulder. "Do you think it was Curly or R.J.?"
"Not sure. Curly's crazy enough, but R.J..."
"Has the resources. I know," she finished.
They both looked over at their rivals. R.J. turned away with a smile when they looked at him, and Curly blew a kiss at Arnold, before tripping over an extension cord that was stretched out behind him.
"You totally have to take them down," Helga said.
Arnold glowered at his enemies. "Uh-huh."
Mrs. Joy, the student council teacher, flounced by them with her clipboard and grinned, her braces flashing and contradicting her graying hair. "Arnold, are you all ready?"
"Sure, Mrs. Joy," Arnold said, forcing a smile.
"Oh, fabulous, fabulous! Ah, I'm so excited!" Mrs. Joy pumped a fist in the air until Helga and Arnold hesitantly copied her. "Now, in just a moment the Juniors are going to leave the auditorium and the Sophomores will come in. Don't be nervous, you'll do just fine! Oh, and don't forget, in about two minutes, we'll have you head through that door over there so you can have a picture with your campaign manager." She looked around. "Where is Sid?"
Arnold looked at Helga and she shrugged. (Unbeknownst to them, Sid was, at that very moment, locked in the broom closet again. He had been thrown in, crying out, "Oh man, not again!" and pounding on the door. Anyone who walked down that hallway that day had a very good reminder to take the current student government seriously, or they might end up murdered like the broom-closet-elections-ghost.)
"Well, hopefully he's all right," Mrs. Joy said, not sounding the least bit concerned. "Besides, I'm sure you'd much rather take your picture with this lovely girl here." Her smile tightened. "Even if she's not supposed to be here."
Helga looked away, pretending she didn't hear her.
"Anyway, try to look handsome!" Mrs. Joy pinched Arnold's cheek. "And take off that silly hat..." She reached toward Arnold's head.
He leaned away from her reach. "I'd rather not—"
"Whoa, whoa, lady!" Helga pushed Mrs. Joy's hand away. "The hat stays on the kid's head."
Arnold raised his eyebrows at her.
"Yes, well, fine. Be that way." The teacher stuck her nose in the air and turned on her heel, bouncing away.
"Wow, she's a bucket of giggles," Helga said and turned to Arnold, who was adjusting the brim of his hat and smiling at her. "What?"
"Nothing," he said.
They sat in silence, listening to the distant applause of the Junior class. Arnold pulled his speech out of a coat pocket and scanned it. She let him prep in peace, keeping an eye out for any shenanigans that Curly or R.J. might send their way.
After a minute Arnold said, "So..."
"So?" she repeated.
"So, I heard Moze asked you to the dance."
Helga stiffened. Arnold knew. Well of course Arnold knew, he was on the same basketball team as Moze—if one of those boys new a secret, they probably all found out. And why shouldn't he know? It wasn't a secret or anything. But she was suddenly seized with an intense desire to know exactly what he thought about it.
"He did," she replied nonchalantly, watching him closely.
His face didn't give anything away. He looked back calmly, gaze half-lidded. “That’s nice. Isn’t it?”
"Is it?"
"Isn't it?"
She frowned. Now he was just going in circles—why was he asking her in that weird way? "Yeah, I guess it's great," she said.
He nodded once and looked down at his speech again.
Just a nod? What the heck does that mean? You can't just nod, you overgrown pig-skin cranium! Tell me what you're thinking! She pulled on the end of her ponytail angrily and glared at him, but didn't say anything more.
A buzz from the auditorium indicated that the Junior class was leaving. The Sophomores would be called to stage any minute. In the back, a metal door swung open and Lila and R.J. walked out. Mrs. Joy called over to Arnold, "It's your turn for pictures! Hurry, now!"
Arnold and Helga looked at the stage entrance, as if Sid would come through it any second. He didn't.
“Come with me,” Arnold said.
Helga turned to him in surprise. His eyes were a darker shade of green in the dim light of the backstage.
“I’m not dressed for it,” Helga said. She was only in jeans with a hole in one knee and a white long sleeve shirt to hide the band-aids on her arms from the other day.
“You look fine,” he said. She didn’t know how else to refuse those eyes. So she nodded.
They headed toward the back, crossing paths with Lila and R.J. on the way.
"Hello, Arnold, I'm glad you made it," Lila said as they passed. "I'm ever so sure you'll do well."
Arnold replied, "Thanks, Lila. Good luck."
She smiled and kept moving. R.J. said, "It's through the door and down the stairs. The room's wide open, you'd have to be quite the ignoramus to miss it."
Arnold gave him a dry look. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it." Then R.J. hopped over Helga's foot, which she had stuck out to trip him.
"I really don't like that guy," Arnold said as they went through the door. The stairs were to the right and they headed down them. "He's so..."
"Pompous? Pretentious? A total twat?" Helga offered.
"I was going to say annoying, but those work, too."
They shared a small smile.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and found themselves in a concrete hall, with eerily swinging lights and a musky smell. There was a dark red stain on one of the walls. "Sheesh," Helga said as they passed it. "If this isn't the perfect scene for a horror movie, I dunno what is."
Arnold looked at the red stain as well. "I know. We never were able to get the blood off the wall." He moved on.
She followed, asking curiously, "You put that there?"
He shrugged. "Sure. Sid and Stinky wanted to do a zombie apocalypse for their final film project last year. I helped direct."
"Of course you did." She rolled her eyes. "You're such a Jack-of-all-trades. Overachiever."
"What, like you're not? Ah, there's the open door."
"Hey, I am a woman of many faces and talents. You are just annoyingly—" She stopped inside the door. "—perfect. What the hey-nonny?"
They stood in the open doorway, looking into the room beyond. The problem was, they couldn't see five feet past the light of the door—the room was completely dark. A few shapes of boxes could be seen stacked in the shadows, and one was open in the light, holding a few creepy looking rubber masks. There was certainly no photographer in there.
"Great, don't tell me," Helga said, "we're ignoramuses."
"Maybe it's just further in there. This is a pretty big room." Arnold leaned inside, as if the photographer were hiding behind a box, ready to pop out at them.
"Or maybe R.J.'s just an even more annoying putz than we previously thought."
Arnold was prevented from agreeing to this, however, when both of them suddenly received a rather good shove from behind. They stumbled into the dark room, turning in time for the door to slam shut, leaving them in complete darkness. Through the door they heard the unmistakable laughter of Curly echoing as he walked away.
The auditorium filled with Sophomores gradually, each student taking a seat and calling out to friends or throwing paper airplanes. Backstage, assistants rushed back and forth and Mrs. Joy stood in the middle, shouting orders with a smile. In their separate corners, the presidential nominees who had yet to go on stage practiced their speeches nervously. No one heard the distant cries of two lost students that emanated from beneath the stage.
"Hello! Can anyone hear us? Anyone!" Arnold called through the door, feeling along the wall for a light switch, pausing every few seconds to listen for approaching footsteps. Helga stood next to him, yanking on the handle and rattling the door in its frame.
"Grah!" He heard her kick the door. "I cannot believe those two idiots were working together! I'm so going to kill Brainy when I see him, he was supposed to keep Curly distracted...Well, now what?"
He turned to her. At least, to where he thought she was. The only light came from the cracks under the door and the rest was only nondescript shapes in the black.
"Do you have your cell phone on you? Mine was in my jacket upstairs," Arnold asked.
She sighed, then groaned. "I don't have it, I left mine on the coffee table at home..."
Arnold took a deep breath. "Ok, well, I think there's another door down here somewhere. Maybe we could find it on the other side of the room."
"You want to walk into the dark?" Helga said, disbelieving. "Hello, haven’t you noticed that we can't even see the noses on our faces? We'll just get lost, or trip and break our legs and then no one will ever find us and our bones will rot down here forever!"
"We are not going to get lost and die. Someone will come get us eventually. But we need a way out now , or we're going to miss the assembly, and we've both worked too hard to let that happen."
"Are you sure you don't want to pick up one of these boxes and try ramming the door? Seems quicker."
"That's a metal door hinged in concrete. I don't think that would really work. But this is the prop-storage room, and I know there's another door that the drama kids always use. And before the door closed, did you see how these boxes were kind of parted down the middle? It's like a path, or something. I bet if we follow it the door is on the other side."
"All right, all right..." she agreed. And they started off into the dark.
It was pretty slow going. Arnold walked as quickly as he dared, one hand extended slightly, to make sure he didn't run into anything. Every once in a while he would find a stack of boxes in front of him and he would turn to the sides to see which way the path led, keeping an eye out for rectangular cracks of light that might indicate a door. It was also slow because every dozen steps or so he would pause and call out to Helga to make sure she was still alright. She was never behind him—her answers in the dark always came from somewhere off to the side. Once he heard her bump into something and say, "Ow!" to which he responded, "Are you sure you don't want to just follow the path? Why are you walking through all of that stuff?"
"I just want to make sure we've explored thoroughly," she said. The door could be hiding behind one of these stacks of junk and I just want to make sure we don't miss it." Unbeknownst to Arnold, that was a total lie. What she really wanted was to keep as far away from Arnold as possible—polite acquaintances do not get stuck in dark rooms with old-flames and then remain in close proximity. That was a no-no. Yes, she was much safer wading through boxes and crawling through racks of costumes and smacking her nose on fake plywood walls. After one such encounter she growled, "Why the hell is all this junk down here anyway!" She turned from the fake wall, rubbing her nose, but with her first step away her foot caught on something and she fell right over whatever it was, crashing into several boxes.
"Helga! Are you ok?" Arnold began feeling his way toward where he heard the crash.
"Ow..." She sat up, rubbing her shin, and looked toward the evil thing that had tripped her. She couldn't tell what it was, but whatever she had done to it, it was making a weird whirring noise and a little red light was blinking on the top of it. Arnold miraculously found his way to her in the dark, and after nearly stepping on her fingers, helped her stand up.
"What is that smell?" she asked.
"I think it's coming from that." He gestured to the machine with the red light. "I think it's a smoke machine. Someone must have left it full of juice."
"Fantastic. Can we turn it off?"
He knelt beside it and felt around. "There's no cord...maybe there's an off switch..." He pushed the first button he found. The whirring grew louder, and he backed up, batting at the air and coughing.
"Nice, genius, you made it worse." Helga covered her nose with her sleeve. "Come on, we have to get out of here." She tugged on his shirt to pull him away. Her brain stopped functioning when he took her hand from it and held onto it.
“Will you stop wandering through this mess now? Just stay by me,” he said.
“Ok, fine, fine.”
She thought he’d let go, but instead he shifted his grasp and held on, pulling her after him.
"This way," he said, guiding her over various obstacles. The progress was too slow, though, and the smoke machine was working too fast. They were breathing as shallow as possible, but it was difficult not to cough with the overpowering, almost sweet smell of the smoke that quickly filled the room.
"Forget, cough! , us breaking our legs," Helga said, "We'll just suffocate instead. At least it's a quicker death."
"Quit being so morbid," he replied.
"We can't all be as blindly optimistic as you, Mr. Funshine." Then something caught her eye. On the ceiling was a rectangle of light. Smoke drifted across it in black clouds, seeping up through the cracks. She tugged on Arnold’s hand. "Wait a sec, do you see that?"
"What?" he asked.
"Look up!"
“You’re right. Looks like a hatch or something. Wait, I bet it's the trap door that opens up backstage—the techies use it all the time for moving stuff up and down from here. Cough! Come here, if you get on my shoulders I think you can reach it."
"What? There's no way in, cough! heck. Even if I got up there, I can't pull you up," she said.
"You could tell someone to come unlock the door, and I'll run back."
"Don't be stupid, I'm not leaving you down here. But if they really use this thing that often there's gotta be stairs or a ladder or something, right?"
They groped around until they found a step ladder leaning against the wall. They set it up under the hatch and climbed up it, each one on either side. They pushed on the square hatch, but it didn't move.
"Look for a latch," Arnold said. They prodded the ceiling, eyes watering, and their coughing getting worse.
"Ah, here it is!" Helga slid it back with some effort, and Arnold took a step up the ladder to push the hatch with his shoulder. It was heavy, but he gave it a good shove and the door popped open and landed on the other side with a loud BANG . Light poured onto their heads, and the smoke spilled out into the open space beyond. Arnold climbed out of the trap door, waving the smoke away from his face, and crouched to help Helga through. They stood for a minute, coughing, happy to be back in the light.
"You ok?" he asked.
"Yeah, are you?" she said.
"Yeah."
They smiled.
Then Helga froze. "Uh, Arnold."
"What?"
"I don't think that trap door opens up backstage."
Arnold turned to see what she was seeing. "Oh."
They were standing center stage in the auditorium, lights bearing down on them and smoke dramatically billowing up around them. In front of them, the several hundred students of the Sophomore class sat in their seats. Behind them, Lila and Eugene stood at their podiums, with one podium to the side, empty. Everyone was staring at them.
In the middle of the audience, about four rows back, Gerald blinked up at his best friend, who had just very boldly entered through the floor. He glanced at the surprised faces around him before beginning to chant lightly, "Arnold, Arnold, Arnold..."
He nudged Stinky and Phoebe next to him, and they joined in, their voices slowly rising, "Arnold, Arnold, Arnold..." Some kids around them caught on and the chant rose until the majority of the audience was stomping their feet and shouting, "ARNOLD! ARNOLD! ARNOLD!"
Helga stood inside the school entrance, looking out into the rain. School had just ended, and students rushed past her and covered their heads as they ran for the buses. She had forgotten her umbrella, of course, and her leg still kind of hurt from her fall beneath the stage earlier, so she wasn't up for running. Ah, well. A good walk in the cold rain seemed to match her current mood, anyway. She stepped out and limped down the steps, rain drops falling in her hair and on her nose.
The assembly had ended hours ago. After emerging from the trap door, Mrs. Joy had slammed the hatch shut and ushered Helga off stage. Arnold took his place at his podium and delivered his rousing speech, which was accented by the eerie smoke that still escaped through the trap door's cracks. R.J. finally lost his cool backstage and yelled at a stage hand, and Curly probably would have tackled Arnold, but Brainy had effectively duct taped him to a chair. The Freshman assembly had to be canceled, due to the smoke filling the auditorium, and a group of techies in gas masks braved going into the basement to turn off the smoke machine.
Polls were cast during fourth period, and after a hurried count and then recount, the official student council was announced before school ended.
Arnold won the vote.
Usually, campaign managers became vice president (which was the reason for the great competition concerning them), but Sid, after being let out of the broom closet, said he'd had enough of the stress of politics. Lila, the first runner up to president, was named vice president instead. Eugene was all smiles, and shook their hands and told them that he was glad for the extra time he now had, because he still had the winter musical to choreograph.
As for Helga, well, she felt sad. And that annoyed her. She had waited in anticipation to hear them announce the president, but the relief she had been hoping for didn't come. Instead, a feeling of dread settled over her. She didn’t want to admit it, but despite the stress and chaos of this week, Helga had sort of…had fun. She’d enjoyed the rush and the planning and hanging out with Sid and the others, and yeah, ok, Arnold. She’d had a taste of what it was like to really be his friend.
Now Arnold would be too busy for her; he would go and make student council friends and hang out with Lila and Helga would have exactly what she been working toward: his absence.
Whoopee.
Knock it off, fool , she scolded herself. You knew this would happen. This is what you've been working for. Now she could go back to her life as it had been without Arnold. That's what she wanted.
She also really wanted to punch something.
She was nearly to the school gate when she felt the constant stream of rain on her head stop. She paused and looked up to see an umbrella over her head. And at the end of it there was an annoyingly cute football head.
"I've been looking for you," Arnold said. "I wanted to say thanks for all of your help this week, Helga. I couldn't have done it without you."
She grunted a response, too busy looking at the umbrella and battling a strong sense of deja vu.
A couple people passed by them and said hello to Arnold, so Helga took the opportunity of his distraction to look at him without being noticed. He was still wearing his white collared shirt under his jacket and his slacks were damp at the hem from puddles. Rain fell on his exposed shoulders since he held the umbrella over her.
Well, look at him , she thought, rubbing the hand that he had held earlier. The noble Mr. President, protecting girls from the rain and still finding the chance to converse with the random passersby as though he wanted nothing more than to say hello. He's like the Grinch's worst nightmare.
Arnold turned back to Helga. "Anyway, thanks, Helga. It meant a lot to me."
"Sure thing, el presidente. Starting food fights, sending you to the principal's office, getting locked in the basement...just doing my patriotic duty to help."
He smirked. "Your patriotic duty, huh? No ulterior motives?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I only had one-terior motive."
"Sure, you did."
She was going to say something bratty, but he was smiling at her. Then she forgot what she was going to say, anyway.
"If you still have something bugging you, Helga, you can tell me. I'd like to help," he said.
There was no response from her, but it didn’t seem to bug him or even surprise him. Instead, he took her hand, the same one he’d held earlier, and put the umbrella handle in her palm.
She looked down at the handle. What, was it going to become a thing, now, him letting her borrow stuff? She still had the pink scarf he had lent her in her backpack. Did she look that pathetic all the time?
"Huh. Well, I could protest," she gestured to the umbrella, "but I know there's no arguing with your deranged sense of chivalry."
"Glad you’re starting to see things my way." He shifted his weight for a moment then moved forward, and for one panicking second Helga thought he might hug her. But then he moved back, clearing his throat.
"I'll see you on Monday, Helga." He began stepping away, then said as an afterthought, "By the way, I like your bow today. It’s very pink."
Oh, hell no.
He did not just say that.
Helga gaped at him, but the irony of the situation and those words were lost on Arnold. He simply finished, "It reminds me of when we were kids. It’s cute." He smiled and backed away. "See you later." Then he turned and jogged back towards the school. Helga watched him go, then held the umbrella low over her head to hide her burning cheeks.
Twelve years. Twelve years since almost this exact same scenario had happened. And just like back then, all her fighting spirit had been completely obliterated in seconds. She was left defenseless against him.
Her denial had already been weakening lately; she had barely been holding onto it, but such a mind-blowing blast from the past unearthed her buried feelings, scattering them like shrapnel for the world to see. There was nowhere to run anymore. He had her cornered, and he didn't even know it.
"Dammit, you stupid football head," she muttered to herself. "There's just no escape from you, is there?"
The rain continued to fall and students continued to hurry home, and no one noticed the girl who stood alone at the edge of the sidewalk, twisting her borrowed umbrella, her heart freshly torn open.
Chapter 7: Loose Screws
Chapter Text
She dreamed someone was holding her hand. She woke up with her stomach in knots.
On Monday on the bus, there were groups of students huddled together with headphones, sharing their favorite songs by Gerald and the Kings. The bus driver told them they were all wrong and blasted Lost in San Lorenzo over the speakers on repeat.
She dreamed she was lost in the dark until someone opened a door and lifted her out. She woke up with a jerk, as if she had been falling.
On Tuesday, Peapod Kid and his club broadcasted the presidential swearing-ins and everyone had to watch during first period. In the spirit of good sportsmanship, Eugene performed a reenactment of Arnold emerging from the stage, complete with a smoke machine and a dramatic stunt in a harness on a wire. In the background, Lila laughed when Arnold said something to her.
She dreamed the sky was gold and the ground was clouds and someone was playing basketball with her. She woke up with a headache.
On Wednesday, someone had finally cleaned up the election banners and pulled down all the presidential posters and passed them out to anyone who wanted them. Gerald sat outside the Presidential fourth period class with a sharpie and signed the posters of Arnold’s face. Several students hung their autographed posters in their lockers, so when doors were open Arnold was everywhere.
She dreamed someone was playing music while she beaded a thousand friendship bracelets. She woke up with her ears ringing.
By Thursday, a small crowd of Sophomores seemed to gather around Arnold wherever he went, students desperate for help with one thing or another. No one paid much attention to the new girl who watched from a distance.
She dreamed it was raining and she was waiting for someone. Waiting and waiting. She woke up before the sun and couldn’t rest enough to sleep again.
On Friday, Gerald sat during lunch, one hand under the table holding Phoebe's, and his knee bouncing up and down in agitation. The couple watched with exasperated sighs as their oldest friends sat next to each other across the table, arguing.
Arnold was saying, "Because the government of Prince Ivan was not a true monarchy, the clerics ran the other half of the town—"
And Helga cut him off, "The clerics were the only literate people in the whole town, melon head, they would have been the only ones able to read the writing, making them the last to be suspected by the court. Doi."
"No , making them the best suspects. They knew what was happening and purposely suppressed it in order to manipulate Ivan and receive the commission for the book of prayers instead of—"
"Well maybe Baba Yaga just ate the stupid book of prayers!"
Gerald had no idea what they were talking about, something about their stupid class project, and he didn't really care to know. All he knew was that this was a Friday, and now that Arnold was super busy as president it was the first time he had been able to eat with them all week. Gerald had been looking forward to seeing his friend for a normal lunch before he rushed off to his next item of business.
Yet it was not the chill lunch reunion Gerald had expected. It seemed like every few minutes Arnold would say something off-hand and Helga, for some reason or another, took it as a personal attack. Arnold, instead of brushing her off, was for some reason fully engaging. It was beginning to get on everyone's nerves. Teri was sitting on Helga's other side, and every time she gestured widely, she accidentally bumped him and made him spill his tomato juice or broccoli or potato chips. Lenny didn't seem too concerned since he simply kept sneaking Helga's food off her tray when she wasn't paying attention. Gerald had no idea how Agatha was feeling—he had yet to get a good grasp on the odd girl. In fact, at that moment, she was staring at him. Without blinking.
Gerald leaned toward Phoebe and whispered, "She's staring at me again..."
Phoebe whispered back, "Say hi."
"Hi," he said to Agatha.
"Hi," Agatha responded, but didn't look away. Or blink.
Agatha was a bit of an anomaly to Gerald. Actually, she kind of creeped him out. Teri always talked about the albino like she was a cute little puppy, but Gerald wasn't seeing it. Maybe Sid was getting to him; Sid, paranoid as ever, thought she was a cyborg spybot with x-ray vision.
Gerald had mentioned to Phoebe that he always found Agatha staring at him, and his girlfriend simply replied, "She likes to watch people—she finds them fascinating," which didn’t help disprove the possibility she was a robot.
After a few seconds, Agatha said to him, "You're shaking the table."
Gerald stopped bouncing his knee. "Sorry."
Across from them, Arnold and Helga's conversation was reaching its climax when Arnold said, "Well, Helga, maybe you're wrong . Ever think of that?"
To which Helga exclaimed, "I'm wrong?" and accidentally bumped Arnold's tray with a stray elbow. The contents got knocked over, and the milk spilled across the table and onto Gerald's lap, who jumped up and stepped away.
"Agh! Guys!" he snapped at them. "Will you knock it off! Seriously, what's with you two? You're squabbling like my parents over electricity bills!"
Lenny shook his head seriously and said, "And we all know that only ends in tears," but everyone ignored him. Phoebe gathered the napkins from the trays around the table and soaked up the spilled milk.
Helga said, "Well, hey, there's no use crying over spilled milk, right? Get it? Heh heh..." Arnold narrowed his eyes at her. "Sheesh, tough crowd," she finished.
Arnold picked up the empty carton and slid it and the ruined tray towards Helga. "Here, throw that out."
She looked indignant. "What, me? You've got legs. You do it."
"I would, but I'm so tired from getting up early for my morning detention which someone got me into."
Helga glowered at him and, voice dripping with animosity, "I would just love to throw that out for you, Mr. President."
"I knew you would." He patted her cheek sarcastically, and for a minute Gerald thought she was going to break the tray on his head.
Instead, she stood with sudden calm and said, "I'll be back."
Gerald rubbed at his damp pants while Helga walked away, shouting at a kid in front of her, "Can't you see I'm walkin' here?"
Gerald glanced at Arnold, who was watching Helga. When Arnold turned away, Gerald didn’t miss the secret smile on his face. No one else seemed to have noticed the expression, but Gerald gaped at him.
"Dude,” he said hotly.
Arnold turned to him with surprise. "What?"
"I'm suddenly parched. Come with me to get a soda. Now."
"Uh, ok?"
Gerald led the way across the cafeteria, but instead of stopping in front of the soda machine he grabbed Arnold and pulled him behind it. "Are you crazy?" Gerald demanded.
Arnold looked clueless. "Crazy? What are you talking about?"
"I'm not blind, Arnold, and I’ve known you for a thousand years. Plus, you’re not exactly being subtle. I mean, yesterday when Moze mentioned her at practice you were so distracted that you didn't notice the basketball flying straight at your face. It knocked you right on your ass!”
Suddenly Arnold didn’t seem to want to look Gerald in the eye. “Mentioned who? And what’s it got to do with anything?”
“Dude, I haven’t seen you this distracted over a girl since Hannah Green came to stay with her uncle down the street in the eighth grade for two weeks, and I seriously can’t believe that I’m seeing it now for her of all people, but seriously I just need to say it: do you have a thing for Helga Pataki?"
Immediately Arnold's cheeks flushed and he looked uncomfortable. "I dunno what you're...I'm not…”
Gerald crossed his arms.
Arnold let out a puff of air. "All right. I like Helga."
"I knew it!"
"Shut up, not so loud!" Arnold glanced around, but the students in the cafeteria were as preoccupied with their meatloaf surprise as they had been before.
Gerald continued in a harsh whisper, "You like Helga Pataki?" He stared at Arnold for a second before grabbing his head and looking through his blond hair.
"Ow! What are you doing?" Arnold asked.
"Looking for loose screws."
Arnold pushed him away. "I'm not crazy! I just...like her. I thought you said she was cool now, anyway."
"Well, yeah, I mean, she's pretty chill these days. I mean, comparatively. Certainly not the petite lady-Hulk we used to know. But to say you like her? That's a totally different story, man. And I don't think 'Helga Pataki' and 'girlfriend material' have ever been in the same sentence before unless there was a big fat 'not' in the middle."
"Why? What makes her so different from other girls?" Arnold asked.
"I dunno, she's just...Helga. What happened when you were locked in the basement with her last week? You hit your head and she's the first one you saw when you woke up?"
Arnold glared at him. "No, don’t be stupid. Nothing like that.”
Gerald took a moment to pause and think. He knew Arnold could be more stubborn than some would expect, especially if he felt like he was being challenged. Gerald said more calmly, "Ok. Ok, wait. Are you sure you're not simply thinking you like her, now that she's here again and seems kinda different? Like the nostalgia and stuff has gone to your head?”
Arnold scoffed. “Who confuses nostalgia with a crush? I’m not stupid.”
“No, you’re right, you’re right. And this isn’t 'cause she's a challenge or somethin'?"
"What do you mean, a challenge?"
"You know, the chase, the rush, the excitement of going after a girl who's hard to get. Or, in this case, impossible to get."
Arnold thought about it for a second. "No...and yes."
Gerald made a face at him. "No and yes? How's it both?"
"Well, no, because with her, the chase isn't fun. I like being with Helga when she's being Helga, and not when she's trying so hard to be someone or something else. I hate it when she's pushy for no reason or insensitive when she thinks it’s better than being vulnerable. So I guess that also makes it yes, because half the time she's acting out it’s because of some stupid reason or another, and it's not actually who she is, and I guess that's kind of a challenge? I want to be able to get past all her stubbornness and be with her as her . "
"You wanna be with Helga as Helga." Gerald nodded several times, overcompensating while hiding his disbelief. "Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, ok, ok. But let me just point out that Helga's the complete opposite of every other girl you've ever liked. In case you've forgotten, you like girls who are nice, smart, pretty, feminine, and friendly. Helga's not your type at all."
Arnold looked over at the table they had been sitting at. Helga had taken her place again, and was now talking back and forth with Phoebe. She was wearing a sweater with a gaudy blue, pink, and purple pattern and tiny pomppoms popping out all over it. Gerald had already teased her for wearing it and she’d already informed him she knew what she was getting him for Christmas. Helga was rough around every single edge, but it wasn’t that Gerald disliked her. She was fun; she could keep up with basketball talk and band talk and The Bachelorette talk, all of which were important in Gerald’s book; and even after all these years she still cared about Phoebe. In fact, she had grown into an even better friend to Phoebe over the years. Only this week she’d informed Gerald that if he broke Phoebe’s heart she’d bury his body where no one would ever find it.
Even still. The idea that Arnold, of all people, whom she had harassed more than anyone in elementary school, could now look at her and swoon? Absolutely wild.
After a moment of watching Helga interact with her friends, Arnold said beside him, "Maybe she is my type.”
Gerald gave him an incredulous look. “How?”
“Ok, sometimes she seems argumentative and hot-headed, but she’s just tightly wound, is all. She’s not like that when she’s comfortable, you know that. And there's so much more to her beneath that. She's smart, everyone knows that, and she can be friendly. And when she is friendly, you know she's completely sincere; there's nothing fake about it. And she is nice. Just a few minutes ago when we were in the lunch line, they ran out of tapioca pudding and the girl behind us was super upset about it, so Helga gave her the pudding she had."
Gerald shrugged. "Yeah, I was there. Helga said she didn't like tapioca, so what?"
Arnold gave him a look of exasperation, as if he wasn't getting it. "She lied! Tapioca's her favorite, Gerald, she eats it everyday. Haven't you noticed?"
"Definitely not. So...pudding is a big deal?"
"Yes! We both know that growing up Helga had this need to keep up her tough-guy act all the time, and yeah as a kid she definitely took it too far sometimes. But she’s also always been really caring. Phoebe says she doesn't always like it being pointed out because it embarrasses her, and she hates being embarrassed more than anything. But it's there—I saw it when we were little, and it’s even stronger now. So whenever she does something nice I think it's a thousand times cooler than when someone who's always nice does it, because she does it on purpose. She decides every day what kind of person she wants to be. And that’s amazing. Don’t you think that’s amazing?”
Gerald leaned against the wall and looked back at the table. Currently Lenny and Teri were having a milk chugging contest. Halfway through, some milk must have gone down the wrong pipe, because suddenly Lenny was spewing milk and pounding on his chest. Helga cackled loudly, slapping her knee, and Teri and Phoebe laughed along. Agatha finally caught on that it was funny and started giggling. Arnold chuckled too, presumably merely at the sight of seeing Helga laugh.
Gerald watched his best friend. "You really like her, huh, Arnold?"
Arnold ran a hand through his hair with a sigh before leaning next to Gerald. He smiled a little. "Yeah. I really like her."
Gerald shrugged, smiling. "All right, man. Then I got your back."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." They fist bumped, wagging their thumbs. "What can I do to help get you two crazy kids get together?"
Arnold raised his eyebrows. "Together?"
"Yeah, you know. Boyfriend, girlfriend. That's what happens when you like someone, dude."
"I know that, but…I do like her, but I think dating her is easier said than done. She doesn't hate me anymore, so I’m glad about that, but I don’t think she pays any more attention to me than anyone else.”
“What, you kidding me? Even after all these years you seem to be her favorite person to pick a fight with, how could she ignore you?”
Arnold huffed. “I know. I don’t know why. At least she’s not avoiding me anymore. So maybe she just doesn’t see me as having romantic-potential? Or maybe she likes someone else."
"What poor soul could she like?"
Arnold shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe she likes Moze."
Gerald gave him another crazy look. "Moze?"
"He asked her out, didn't he? And she said yes. She wouldn't have done that unless she liked him at least a little bit. Maybe that's what's been bugging her and putting her on edge lately."
Gerald spent a lot of time with the Senior basketball captain, and it was true that Moze talked about Helga now and then. Plus, he had asked her to the dance, even though Gerald had heard more than one girl had been eyeing the handsome newcomer. If one guy Gerald respected could catch feelings for Helga, then maybe another one could, too. He rubbed his chin, eyeing Helga in a new light.
“Are you gonna talk to Moze, then?” Gerald asked.
“And say what? Nah, that feels weird. It’s none of my business if they like each other, I guess.” Arnold didn’t look happy about the idea though.
“Fair enough. I guess you’ll have to keep doing you and see how Helga feels about it.”
“Yeah. I guess,” Arnold agreed, still looking unhappy.
Gerald slung an arm around Arnold’s shoulder, chuckling. "You want me to give Moze the ol’ Gerald shake down? 'Cause I will."
He grinned when Arnold laughed. "You? Shake down Moze?" Arnold asked.
"Are you doubting my skill? I think I've played enough Street Fighter by now." Gerald punched at the air. "I could take him."
"You hold the record at the arcade for Street Fighter, but it's not even close to real fighting. You've never even been in a fight."
"I took that karate crash course you taught last summer."
Arnold snorted. "That was a self defense class for fifth graders. Your baby sister Timberly took you down, remember?"
"Hey, hey! I let her win. Besides, I have learned much since then, Arnold Sensei."
"Have you?" Arnold pushed from the wall and pulled his wallet out from his pocket to balance on his head. He said solemnly, "Well, then, grasshopper, if you can remove the wallet from my head then I shall deem you ready."
"That’s it? Piece of cake, Miyagi." Gerald lunged, but Arnold sidestepped, sticking his foot out to trip him. Gerald regained his balance and turned. "Ha! Can't throw me off that easy!…Arnold?"
Arnold wasn't by the coke machine anymore. Gerald looked around to see Arnold already halfway back to their table, the wallet still balanced perfectly on his head.
"What the? How'd you get over there?" Gerald followed, calling, "Hey, no fair, you can't use your Grandma's secret ninja moves! That's totally cheating!"
Arnold shot him a quick smirk over his shoulder before reaching the table and taking his seat next to Helga. Helga raised an eyebrow and asked him where the heck they'd been? Had the two idiots gotten lost on their way to the vending machine? Arnold smiled at her.
Something about admitting to Gerald his feelings had given Arnold some clarity. Perhaps he needed it—for his best friend to question Arnold, to make him prove that his feelings weren’t imaginary. Now Arnold could see them displayed out clearly. Brightly.
Too bad he hadn’t utilized those feelings earlier. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of asking Helga out until Moze had done it; hadn’t realized that openly liking someone would bring some expectation of dating until Gerald had said it. Not because Arnold thought Helga was undateable, but because he had still been seeing her from within his own little world. He had been thinking about her and him and their history as if it were timeless. Like they existed outside the realms of regular old high school.
In regular old high school, Arnold had won her over as a friend, and she had repaid him by running a successful (albeit reckless) presidential campaign on his behalf. In regular old high school, there were friends and old classmates and Arnold’s now very-busy schedule between them. In regular old high school, Helga was going to the dance with the cool and handsome ex-basketball captain, whom she had known a long time. Arnold wasn’t the only one she had history with anymore.
Real life was more complicated than the fantasies he sometimes cooked up. Sid hadn’t been joking about how busy he’d be when he became class president, and having to transfer out of the only class he had with Helga meant there was hardly any time of day when they were in the same vicinity. He had attempted several times to run into her, but had hardly managed to wave at her down the hall once until Friday, when he fought with her all of lunch. That wasn’t how he wanted it. After all this time of only hearing about her through Phoebe and wondering when she would come back, he figured it didn’t matter if they dated or didn’t date. She was here, in the flesh, and she was his friend at long last. And if Arnold’s busy schedule might threaten that, he’d have to take matters into his own hands.
So over the weekend, he planned. And the next Monday before classes he went directly to Helga’s locker, politely brushing off anyone who called out to him. He knew her bus had already arrived—he’d seen Lenny and Stinky loping through the halls together. She was in the middle of shrugging off her big coat and shoving it into her locker, Agatha standing nearby, when Arnold came up on her other side. When she closed her locker, he was standing right behind where the door had been.
“Hi, Helga,” he greeted.
She squawked in surprise and backed up into Agatha, nearly knocking her over. Both Helga and Arnold caught the girl and put her back on her feet.
“Good morning,” Agatha whispered, unbothered.
“Morning,” Arnold replied.
“It’s too early for you to be sneaking around,” Helga complained.
“Sorry. I was just looking for you.”
“Well, you found me. What can I do for you, Prez?”
“I’ve been thinking about our folklore project.”
She put a hand on her hip. “You mean my folklore project, the one you abandoned me to do by myself while you run off in la la land with Lila and the rest of the privileged student council?”
“Yep, that one. I feel bad about leaving you to do it alone. I’ll help you finish it.”
He could tell that caught her off guard. She said, “What? Oh. No, you don’t have to do that.”
“I’ve already done half the research, why let it go to waste? Basketball practice is done early this Wednesday, Beezus has some appointment to get to. Why don’t you come over to my place and I’ll help you finish the project?”
“I—what? Your place?”
He tried not to laugh at her bewildered expression. “Yeah, on Wednesday. Why do all the work when you don’t have to? Also, Rhonda wants those decoration posters finished up for the dance this weekend, so how about two birds, one stone?”
“I, uh…guess. Might as well get it over with all at once.”
“Right. So Wednesday? Do you remember where my house is? I can text you the address.”
“No, I—I remember where it is.”
He waited for her to backtrack and try to give some excuse about preferring to work alone or something else equally dumb, but she only looked at him in flustered surprise. He smiled. “Ok. Good. See you on Wednesday.”
All right, me. Here's the 411: You're in love with a boy named Arnold. Arnold is a great guy who's actually pretty nice to you. It makes you really happy when you think about him, and see him and junk like that.
The Problem: You're in love with a boy named Arnold. Arnold is a great guy who's actually pretty nice to everyone . It ticks you off when you think about him, and see him and junk like that because, 1) feelings suck, and 2) feelings REALLY suck when they're for someone who doesn't like you back. You thought you'd grown out of those feelings like you’d grown out of other dumb things, but, low and behold, you were dead wrong. Those feelings only wanted to let you think you had escaped so that they could drag you back and laugh at you when you look stupid.
Such as now. She felt really stupid, standing across the street from the Sunset Arms boarding house, staring at it like it was filled with the plague—so horrifying you didn't want to approach, and yet you couldn't tear your gaze away.
She had been walking "nonchalantly" back and forth for over an hour, and she really hoped no one inside the house had looked out a window and seen her. Once, a small man in glasses and a bowtie approached the door, presumably a boarder there, and she dove behind a car parked on the street until he was safely inside. Now she glanced at her phone, which told her it was almost five-thirty. Arnold would be home from basketball practice soon, and then she would have to actually go and ring the doorbell.
That's right. She had been invited to Sunset Arms for an evening visit. Actually it wasn't a visit, Arnold had told her to come over so they could finish up their project and work on some decor for the dance, which Rhonda had been bugging Helga about for the last few days. Helga had been dreading but expecting to do them alone since Arnold was literally swamped. He had only been president for a week and three days and it seemed he barely had a moment's peace, and now he was offering to take time out of his busy schedule to help her with a project for a class he wasn't even in anymore. It would have been rude if she had said no without any good reason.
Besides, she couldn't help herself: this was the first and last time she would probably be invited to his house, so, by golly, she was taking the opportunity.
Helga sighed and the sound turned into a rough roar into the brisk fall air. Her whole body felt out of regulation. It was like now that she had admitted she still had feelings for Arnold, it was agonizingly obvious how close her emotions always were to the surface. Arnold hadn’t noticed, thank god, and she doubted he would. Her panicking knee-jerk reaction of arguing with him was no-doubt just what he thought she was like. Nobody else seemed to have noticed, either, thank god, which was Helga’s only saving grace. Well, except Phoebe. Yeesh, Phoebe. There was no fooling her about anything.
Helga had refused to talk about her feelings as a kid, but she had a feeling Phoebe had somehow always known. She loved Phoebe for understanding her, and simultaneously loathed it. These days, Phoebe was giving Helga sly looks whenever Arnold was mentioned, and she knew somehow Phoebe had seen right through her yet again.
When Helga had asked Phoebe if she could take the bus home with her because Arnold had invited her over, Phoebe had given her an especially coy glance.
“Don’t say anything. Don’t ask anything,” Helga had said, debating between getting angry and praying for a swift death.
“Not asking!” Phoebe had replied. But she had looped her arm through Helga’s, which had felt nice.
On the bus, Helga had worried others might look at her suspiciously, but no one had. Her old classmates had merely sat backwards in their seats to ogle her, and she had spent the rest of the ride fielding questions about her dad’s business and basketball and whether or not she was dating Carlos Moze. No one knows. No one can tell. It made the reality of her pitiful crush easier to bear and her skin-deep emotions easier to keep calm.
At Arnold’s stop, half the kids on the bus had gotten off with her and walked her to his house, until finally she’d gotten fed up and shooed them all off. They’d left with laughs and cordial waves and several people saying, “Welcome back to the neighborhood!”
Phoebe had said, “Have fun, Helga. Try not to pick a fight with him.”
“Why the hell would I pick a fight? I have no reason to pick a fight, so long as he doesn’t try to be such a know-it-all—” but Phoebe had walked off with a smile and a wave before Helga could finish.
So, Helga had been left alone on the street corner to spiral all by herself.
How was she supposed to keep herself from picking a fight with him? When he was around, all her emotions that were barely held beneath the surface began spilling through the cracks, and unfortunately they took whatever shape Helga, in a panic, made them take.
"Why?" Helga asked herself now. "Why can I not escape the juvenile trap of letting my emotions run amok? Why must I protect myself from feelings by lashing out against those I love?"
It was a dilemma, really. But no one knows, she reminded herself. Except Phebes, but she’s tight as a vault. And it isn’t like before—now everyone knows we’re sort of friends, so I don’t have to hide it by being mean. I can go in there, and be civil, and he won’t think that’s weird. This is the perfect chance for me to show that I'm not a brainless beast of rampaging hormones and aggression. I'll be cool as a cucumber. That’s what polite acquaintances do, right? You know what, I'm gonna go over there now. I was invited, after all. I'm a special guest.
Helga confidently stepped off the curb, glanced down the street for cars, and crossed to Sunset Arms. The boarding house looked exactly the same as she remembered it. It stood still in time, with the same chipped green paint on the door and "Rooms for Rent" sign on the wall. The only visible difference was that the yellow curtains in the front windows had been replaced with blue ones.
Helga looked up at the old building that had been the center of her childhood universe. Now that she was only a couple feet away, her courage once again slackened. Maybe she wouldn't go in quite yet. His grandparents would think it was weird for some girl to hang around before their grandson was even home, right?
She backed away from the front steps and hurried over to the alley on the side. She leaned against the wall near the garbage bins and kicked a stray tin can. A rustling by the garbage bag next to her jump, and a second later a little pink pig emerged from behind it, munching on an old banana peel.
Helga and Abner blinked at each other, surprised to find the other crawling around in the alley.
Helga crouched down, resting her elbows on her knees. "Hey, pig. You still kickin' around, huh?" Abner snorted and came closer, sniffing her shoe. She wasn't a huge fan of pigs in general, but she felt happy to see Arnold's pet pig. She let him sniff her hand, noticing the gray hairs on his back that showed old age. "You waiting for Arnold? Me, too." She scratched his ear and he snorted happily. "Look at me—hangin' around dark alleys and garbage cans talking to a pig, waitin' for Arnold to come home. Like old times, huh? I really hope it's not a sign of how my future will be. What do you think, Abner?"
The happy pig rolled on his back and let her pat his stomach. She chuckled at his little happy snorts.
"So, Helga. You come here often?"
Helga stood so fast she stumbled into the closest garbage can, knocking it over and spilling all its guts. Behind her stood Arnold, leaning his elbows on the lid of a garbage bin, smiling at her pleasantly.
"Criminy, what is wrong with you? Why are you always sneaking up on me? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" she accused.
"Sorry." He didn't look sorry. Abner excitedly trotted over and Arnold leaned down to pat his head. "What are you doing back here?" he asked.
“Are you talking to the pig or me?” Helga asked.
Arnold laughed, soft and warm. His eyes flicked up to her. “You.”
"I was...throwing something...away." I was not hiding behind the garbage because I've been creepishly waiting for you for a long time but I was too chicken to go inside your house because I was afraid I might completely spaz out. "What took you so long, Shortman? I've been waiting for ages."
"Sorry, Beezus had us stay later than I thought 'cause of the Junior Varsity game coming up. It's our big match against Darville High." He straightened and adjusted his backpack. He glanced from Helga to the alley. “So you done out here, or…?”
“Tch, don’t be snide.”
“You sure, because I can wait if you and Abner need to finish things up.”
She rolled her eyes and walked past him to the street, he came after her, chuckling softly again, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Abner pushed ahead of them up the steps, sniffing at the door. Arnold opened the door, then suddenly put an arm out to press Helga against the railing. Per usual, her brain stuttered, and all she could focus on was his hand on her side. Then a small stampede of animals burst from the front door. Abner squealed and joined the animals as they ran down the street. Helga looked after them, but Arnold entered the house unconcerned. "I'm home!" he called.
Helga entered the narrow hallway that felt hot against the October chill. Oh my gosh, I'm inside Arnold's house. I was invited , I didn’t even have to sneak in! She glanced around and the faded green wallpaper with little pink flowers, thinking not much had changed, except for some photos on the wall that had been updated. Ahead of them in the hall was a short woman, five feet tall at the most, with broad shoulders, short brown hair, and wide set eyes. She leaned against the wall next to the old rotary telephone, chewing on a toothpick.
"Hey, Holly," Arnold said, shutting the door behind Helga.
"Hey, kid," Holly replied. "Someone called for you."
"Oh, yeah? Did they leave a message?"
"Sure did."
"What is it?"
Holly held out her hand expectantly. Arnold sighed and rummaged in his pocket. He handed Holly a dollar bill which she put in her bra. "It was someone selling customized stationary. Said they could get you fifty percent off if you ordered before Friday."
Arnold rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Holly."
From the kitchen, Helga recognized Arnold’s grandfather calling, "Arnold! Is that you?"
"Yes, Grandpa."
"Come give me a hand a minute!"
Helga followed Arnold to the kitchen. As she passed Holly, they looked each other up and down. Holly was in cargo pants and combat boots and Helga's jeans were torn and her expression was stern. After a second they nodded, clearly thinking "this woman is my kind of woman."
"Who was that?" Helga asked Arnold before they reached the kitchen.
Arnold said, "That's Holly Potts, Ernie's wife. Do you remember Ernie?"
"The angry short guy?"
"Yeah. She manages a construction company from your side of town—they used to compete for work, but they fell in love instead."
"Well, whadaya know. Some freaks do find love," Helga muttered. It was a comforting thought, really.
The kitchen was bright and cheerful but it smelled awful. Helga covered her nose with a sleeve and Arnold crinkled his. "Ugh, what's that smell, Grandpa?" he asked.
His grandfather, Phil, was standing at the table, rummaging through the toolbox. He looked as good at age eighty-eight as he had at eighty-one, which, admittedly, wasn't that great, with his stubbly chin and missing teeth. Yet he was still muscley and full of energy and Helga felt nostalgia sweeping over her at the sight of him. She almost wanted to give him a hug.
Phil said angrily, "That would be the smell of the garbage disposal backing up. This old house is falling apart at the seams! Someday I'm going to burn it down, say Oskar did it, and collect the fire insurance." He pulled a screwdriver and a snake from the toolbox and turned, stubbing his toe on a small wooden stand. "Oh, Pookie, get this thing out of here! It's in the way!"
Arnold's grandmother, Gertrude, sat behind what looked like a small wooden market stall. She wore a blue baby doll dress and a black wig. A big wooden sign above her read, "Psychiatric help, 5 cents" and the front of the booth read "The doctor is IN."
"Now, Shroder," Gertrude said to her husband, "No need to be so tense!" She turned to her grandson. "About time you got home, Charlie Brown. How about a nickel?"
"Don't mind her, Shortman," Phil said from the sink. "She saw the Charlie Brown Halloween special on TV today. Been talking about the Great Pumpkin all afternoon."
"Well, then, let's have it!" Gertrude demanded. "Just one shiny nickel!"
Arnold again dug around in his pocket. He dropped a nickel in the can beside his grandmother. She picked it up and shook it. "Oh, boy, just listen to that ring! Listen to that chime! What a beautiful sound! One whole nickel!" She put the can down. "Alright, Charlie Brown, here's my advice: ‘You can't drift along forever—you have to direct your thinking. For instance, you have to decide whether you're going to be a liberal or a conservative. You have to take some sort of stand. You have to associate with some sort of cause.'"
Arnold looked at Helga and she shrugged. He said, "Right. Thanks, Grandma. I'll keep that in mind."
"Pookie, leave him alone, I need his help with this! Arnold, grab a wrench and head to the basement and start banging some pipes to see if…” Phil trailed off when he turned around. "Oh, you brought a friend."
"Grandpa, you remember Helga Pataki. She used to live over where the Barreda's live now."
"Uh, hi," Helga greeted, aware that she was now being properly introduced to Arnold's family. "Nice to meet you, uh, again."
"Pataki? Hmm," Phil narrowed his eyes at her and rubbed his chin. "Wait a minute..." He walked over to her and held the screwdriver in his hand up to forehead, horizontal across her brow line, like a unibrow. "Ha! I remember!"
"Grandpa!" Arnold quickly waved the screwdriver away, looking embarrassed. "Leave her alone. She's here so we can work on some projects for school."
"Riiiight," Phil winked at him. "A 'project'."
"Grandpa!" Arnold's cheeks were pink and Helga didn't know what to do, burst into cynical laughter or run for the hills.
"Ee hee hee, don't be so bashful," Phil elbowed Arnold. "It's been a while since you brought a girl home."
"It's not like that!" Arnold insisted.
Helga felt a little pang. Yeah, it's not like that. It won't ever be like that.
Phil put a hand on his hip. "Oh, pish posh, why not? You like girls, don't you? Don’t you know how to talk to them? Sheesh, I'm starting to wonder about you."
"You and me both, Gramps," Helga said, spurred on by the little pang of rejection. "Look at how he color coordinates his shirts with his shoes. What a dork."
Arnold looked down at his outfit—a blue t-shirt with a long sleeved red flannel shirt hanging open over it. His converse had the same color scheme. "I just happen to like these colors, get over it. All my clothes are these colors."
"Yeesh, I know. You're a Queer Eye nightmare." Helga didn't mention that she thought it looked good on him. His clothes always made him look at ease and huggable. "Maybe that's why he doesn't bring girls home—he doesn't know any who are colorblind."
"Real mature, Helga," Arnold said.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
Phil cackled and slapped Helga on the shoulder, almost knocking her over. "Hee hee, I like this one! You should invite her over more often!"
"Yeah, I bet you two would get a real kick out of each other," Arnold replied dryly and grabbed a wrench from the toolbox. "I'll go find that pipe. I'll be back in a minute, Helga. Grandpa, try not to embarrass me while I'm gone."
"Who, me? Embarrass you? I would never!"
Arnold pointed two fingers at his own eyes and then at his grandpa.
Phil leaned towards Helga and whispered loudly, "He's such a stick in the mud, isn't he?"
"I'll say. Maybe he'll get lost in the basement and we won't have to deal with him for a while," Helga said back conspiratorially.
"Only if we're lucky!"
Arnold rolled his eyes at both of them and headed through the basement door.
Phil continued, "Look at him, so grown up and doing the plumbing. It seems like just yesterday he was escaping from the bath and running out the door, naked as a newborn! He scared Mrs. Vitello so bad, she dropped on the sidewalk, and we all thought he'd killed her. In fact, I think that was just yesterday..."
"Grandpa!" Arnold shouted from halfway down the stairs.
Phil chuckled. "Oh, what are grandsons for if not their grandparents' amusement, eh?" He winked at Helga who smiled. He headed back to the sink. Helga stood where she was in the kitchen, hands in her pockets, until Gertrude started waving her over with a vacant smile.
"Have any nickels, there, Peppermint Patty?" the old woman said.
Helga searched her pockets until she found a few dimes, which she dropped in the can. While Gertrude picked it up and shook it by her ear, Phil said, "Peppermint Patty? Don't you think Helga should be Lucy? Lucy's always calling Charlie Brown names and being mean to him. Helga used to pull all those pranks on Arnold and teased him all the time, until he was hopping mad, heh heh! No one could make him mad like she could. She's a natural."
Gertrude shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous, Shroder. I know Peppermint Patty when I see her."
"Who's Peppermint Patty?" Helga said, trying to remember the old Charlie Brown cartoons.
"Kind of a tough, tomboyish girl with that really smart friend with glasses," Phil said, banging on the sink. "Played softball, called Charlie Brown 'Chuck' all the time, beat up the boys..."
"Sounds boss," Helga said.
"If I remember right, she had a big crush on Charlie, too."
Helga looked at Gertrude. Gertrude smiled back at her, her chin in her hands. Oh my gosh, she knows, Helga thought. How does she know? Is it written all over my face?
Gertrude said, "So what's your problem, Patty? Moral issues? Politics? Looove?"
She does, she knows! Run! "Uh, you know, I think I'll wait for Arnold in the living room."
In the living room, some of the Sunset Arms boarders were watching TV. Ernie, the short construction worker, was sitting on the couch with the Vietnamese Mr. Hyunh, while commercials drolled by on the screen. Ernie's hairline was receding, and Mr. Hyunh's hair was more gray than black, but they both laughed at the dancing bear advertising brake fluid.
"Wow, get a load of this guy! What a lame brain, huh, Hyunh?" Ernie shook his head.
"He is just so stupid. I can not watch!" Mr. Hyunh replied.
Helga sat in the chair to the side of them and watched the poor idiot of a bear trip over his overly large paws. "Heh, idiot," she said.
"Hey!" Oskar said from the living room entrance. The thin, bearded Lithuanian man had a baby carrier strapped to his front, and inside a baby with big ears drooled, his feet dangling. In Oskar's hand was a leash strapped to a little girl with curly blond hair. "Somebody is sitting in my chair!" Oskar whined in his thick accent, glaring at Helga.
"Uh, sorry." Helga stood from her chair and Oskar sat down in it with a huff.
"Lay off, Kokoshka," Ernie said, flipping the channel. "It's not your chair, anyway, and Grandpa hates it when you say that."
"You can sit by me," Mr. Hyunh said to Helga. "I promise. I do not bite."
Helga slouched onto the couch. She didn't feel uncomfortable at all around these men. It had been years since she had seen this group of lovable weirdos and knowing that boarders frequently came and went from this building, she was glad that the regulars still lived here. She had rarely spoken to them as a kid, but they were part of Arnold's family, and, therefore, she had fond memories of them. Many times she had looked through the windows, when she was having a bad day with her own screwed up family, and wished that she could be a part of them. She had fantasized about it so many times that sitting here now seemed almost natural. She pretended that it was because she had done it a hundred times and would do it a hundred more.
"You got stuck watching the brats again, huh, Kokoshka?" Ernie said, holding the remote out of the toddler's reach.
"Suzy is at work," Oskar said. "Besides, that stupid babysitter did not know what she was doing. My little Iva only eats chopped carrots, not sliced."
"What's the difference? A carrot's a carrot."
"Shows what you know. This is why I am a father and you are not," Oskar said haughtily, while the baby blew snot bubbles and Iva chewed on the leash holding her back.
Mr. Hyunh ignored them and greeted Helga, "Hello. You are a friend of Arnold's, yes? I am Mr. Hyunh, it is nice to meet you."
She wasn't surprised that no one remembered her. "Yeah, same."
"You know, my daughter, Mai, is a few years older than you. Recently she had a baby with her husband. Would you like to see?" Mr. Hyunh asked.
Helga shrugged, so Mr. Hyunh pulled out his wallet and opened it. A long train of pictures folded out.
Ernie groaned, "Oh, no, Hyunh, don't even start. You'll bore the girl to death."
"No one wants to hear about your smelly grandbaby," Oskar said.
Hyunh looked indignant. "He is not smelly! Your baby is smelly!"
Oskar sniffed the baby strapped to him. "I know, but I don't change the stinky ones. That is Suzy's job."
"So you're just going to leave him filthy until she gets home?" Ernie said, reluctantly playing a tug of war with Iva over the remote. "Some dad you are!"
Helga didn't know what the big deal was; her dad carried around a train of pictures three times as long of her sister’s baby. Helga was going to listen to Mr. Hyunh's story anyway, but right then Iva changed the channel and she got distracted.
"Hold on, stay there! Is that the Cain Slasher and Juan Diego grudge match?" Helga asked.
"What?" Ernie demanded, "I thought that wasn't until next week!"
"Obviously not, 'cause there it is!" Helga gestured at the screen. The wrestlers flexed in the arena as they readied for battle, cameras flashing around them while heavy metal music played.
"Man, I can't believe it!" Ernie was so excited he was standing on the couch. "Lucky we caught it. This is the biggest match of the season! Cain'll slaughter this guy!"
Helga scoffed at the short man. "Oh, please , Juan Diego's the best rookie of the decade, and grandpa Cain's no match for him. Juan will snap Cain like a twig."
"Girly, you don't know what you're talking about. Cain has been champion of the Hans Grizzly belt three years in a row and that stuttering rookie guy isn't going to get in his way of a title. He'll break him, girly, just you wait and see."
"Ha! You're delusional, old man. There's no way!"
Oskar moaned, "I hate these shows. There is nothing good about sweaty men in little underwears."
Helga crossed her arms at Ernie. "I bet you ten bucks Juan takes him down before the third round."
Oskar immediately perked up. "I'll raise you another ten!"
Arnold tightened the bolt on a pipe, his phone in his mouth with the flashlight turned on. This had taken way longer than he expected and he could picture Helga upstairs in the kitchen, leaning against the wall, tapping her foot in annoyance. His grandfather and grandmother probably telling her embarrassing things. It wasn’t how he had planned this evening to go. He grunted at the final twist, then pulled out his phone and called up the stairs, “Ok, try it now!”
Muffled gurgling and whining was followed by the sound of water gushing through the pipes. Arnold sighed in relief as his grandfather yelled, “Ya-hoo! It’s flowin’!”
Arnold looked down at his hands blackened by grease and rust, and the spray of stale water that had sprayed his shirt. This really wasn’t how he planned this evening to go. He kicked the discarded pipe he had pulled out and bypassed into the shadows and ascended the stairs.
The kitchen was empty. Had Helga gotten fed up and left? Then his grandmother went dancing by with a football in her hand and told him to check the living room. He entered right as a booming mix of cheering and hollering exploded from the room.
Helga was standing on the couch amidst the residents of the boarding house, fanning herself with a handful of dollar bills. The TV blared, Ernie and Oskar were shouting and raving, Mr. Hyunh was talking loudly, Iva was running in excited circles, the baby was gurgling, and Phil was cackling wildly, smacking his knee. Iva spotted Arnold and ran to jump on his leg.
“What’s wrong, you want to go another round? There’s a basketball game on later tonight,” Helga gloated.
“No, no, not another one!” Oskar wailed. “You already took all my allowance!”
“Aw, why not, Oskar! Go for it!” Phil jeered.
“Grandpa, you’re just trying to get me in trouble with Suzie again!”
“Arnold,” Ernie said, “look, your girlfriend’s alright, but you gotta get her outta here before she takes our rent money, too.”
Arnold looked to Helga, who was looking back at him. She stepped down from the couch.
“Not his girlfriend,” she said, thumbing through the money in her hand. She tucked it in her pocket. “If you guys want a round two, I’ll gladly come by to show you up any time.”
“Show them up now! Is too funny!” Mr. Hyunh said.
Helga jerked a thumb at Arnold. “Sorry, gramps, el presidente here has work to do and he needs supervision.”
Helga joined Arnold in the hallway, Phil calling out, “Come back soon, kid!”
“But not too soon!” Ernie added.
“Hey,” Arnold said to her. He wiped his dirty hands on his pants, feeling silly for hoping she didn’t really notice. “I see you’ve made some friends.”
She shrugged. “Not sure they’d call me that after taking them for all they’re worth, but yeah, they’re a hoot.”
She seemed to be more at ease than when she had entered the house twenty minutes ago. Arnold chuckled and led the way to the stairs. He glanced back at her, and saw she was looking around at everything quietly. He wondered if she was judging the bad carpet or the peeling wood panels on the wall, but she didn’t say anything. On the top floor, he headed to the end of the hall and pulled the cord. The stairs to his room sprung down from the ceiling.
“I’ve gotta clean up. You can go on ahead to my room,” he said.
“What, clean up? You don’t look that way all the time?” she said, eyeing his dirty shirt. Her tone was light; he saw she was only teasing. So, she was in a good mood today, too. Or maybe that was a result of winning a bunch of money. Either way, Arnold would take it.
“Ha ha,” Arnold said dryly.
“You trust me in there alone? I’m definitely rifling through all your drawers,” she said, pointing up the stairs.
Arnold had spent the previous evening cleaning his room top to bottom in preparation for today. There was not one stray pair of underwear or odd smell wafting from an old stain on the carpet that could embarrass him. He gestured for her to proceed. “Rifle away.”
She gave him a suspicious squint and started up the stairs. He watched her enter his room before he headed to the bathroom to scrub his hands. Then run his hands through his hair. He jogged down to the laundry room to find a clean shirt, tried on three, settled for a blue, soft long sleeved shirt with sleeves so long they covered half his hands. He hurried back upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, ignoring Holly and Ernie in the hallway, who teased him about his nice shirt.
At the top of his stairway he cleared his throat and opened the door. A quick scan around his room and he didn’t see any drawers popped open or old year books propper open and being laughed at. The pile of posterboard and art supplies he had set out were still in their spot. Helga’s backpack and jacket had been dropped onto a chair. And he found Helga herself five feet off the ground, standing on the shelves behind his bed, her white tennis shoes left on the floor, her back to him.
Arnold cocked his head, shutting the door behind him. Helga didn’t turn around at his entrance—she was looking at something on one of the shelves intently.
Arnold hopped on the bed behind her. “What’cha looking at?”
Helga yelped and nearly fell off the shelf, releasing a string of expletives. “What, what—stop sneaking up on me!" she said angrily, dropping back onto the bed.
"Sorry." It wasn’t his fault it was so easy to do. Sometimes she could get so focused on whatever she was doing that she didn’t notice what was going on around her. Besides, it was kind of fun. "What are you doing?"
"I was, uh, just looking," she replied, flustered.
He glanced down at what she was holding. “I see you found my parents.”
“Um, yeah. Sorry,” she said, looking down at the photograph in her hand.
“Nah, it’s ok.”
She handed the photo back to him. “They look like you. They look nice.”
“Ha. Yeah.” He smiled at the picture and placed it back on his shelf, next to the old brown journal his parents had left behind. “Is that what you climbed up here for? Snooping around about my family?”
“No, I didn’t mean—” she stopped when he gave her a smirk. “Tch! Actually, I came up here for that.” She reached up and grabbed a small red high heel from a nearby shelf that sat atop a little pink journal. "I don't suppose it's yours, twinkle toes?"
“Ha, wow, I forget this stuff is up here.” Arnold took the shoe and wiped some of the dust off it. "This belonged to a girl I met once, a long time ago."
Helga said casually, "Oh, yeah? She must have been pretty important if you kept her shoe around all this time."
He shrugged. "I only knew her for a day. But she was really sweet and I liked her a lot. I didn't even know her name. I hoped I'd see her again so I could return her shoe, but I never did."
He handed the shoe back to Helga and she looked down at it.
"You dork," she said.
Arnold blinked at her. The "dork" didn't phase him in the slightest, but what caught his attention was her face. For a split second, as she had said it, all her pretenses melted, and all that was left was a tender, sad smile. For a moment, he was seeing Helga as he had never seen her. Standing this close and comfortable in the quiet sanctuary of his bedroom, he felt special—she had dropped her walls completely. She had let him in, if only for a second.
He wanted to ask what she was thinking. He wanted to ask why there was a touch of sadness in her smile. She was so close, and a strand of long blonde hair was caught on her gray sweatshirt; he wanted to reach out and sweep it back.
Then the smile was gone, and she was putting the shoe back on its shelf, but the moment left a small wake in Arnold.
Helga sauntered off the bed, kicking her shoes to the side of the room, and scooped up the remote that operated the couch in the wall. He watched her flop down on it before he followed, forgetting the distant memory of a girl from long ago and turning all his attention to the young woman in front of him.
The sunset’s orange light filtered in from the glass ceiling, casting pleasant shadows around Arnold’s room. Helga was glad that, like the rest of the house, the room had changed little, only reflecting the growing age of the boy who lived there. The computer on his desk was newer, the stereo had surround sound speakers, and the U.S.S. Enterprise and Millennium Falcon had been added to the model airplanes hanging from the ceiling. A couple band posters were on the wall, and a special place of honor was given to a copy of the Gerald and the Kings EP record.
Every breath smelled like him.
The boy himself sat across from her on the ugly 80’s carpet as they worked on posters for the dance. Scooting around on their hands and knees, they drew up haunted houses and swing dancing vampires. After a half hour they were reasonably proud of the posters and put them to the side, hoping Rhonda would find them acceptable.
Next they pulled out some thick old books Arnold had collected from some dusty used book shop and read multiple versions of Baba Yaga eating small children, and tried to scrape together an outline and some paragraphs, which Helga tried really hard not to argue with Arnold over. An hour and ten minutes into this, both their brains were starting to fry. Arnold had moved to his desk chair, where he spun in squeaking circles and stared at the ceiling. Helga lay on the floor, her feet propped up on the couch, a book laying open over her face.
Phil came in to check on them then with a light knock at the door. He asked if they wanted to risk his wife’s "Great Pumpkin" and cabbage-beef pie the rest of the house was eating for dinner, or if Arnold wanted to scrounge up something else. Arnold immediately hopped up and said he’d make them some sandwiches.
Helga started, “Hey, I want—”
“Extra pickles and mustard, I know,” Arnold said.
He disappeared downstairs with his grandfather and Helga was left alone in his room again. Helga stretched and cracked her neck and flopped down in his desk chair. She wondered how often he sat in that very spot, looking at the very photos on the wall she now looked at. There were a few pictures of Arnold's spring and summer baseball team, the basketball team, the Sunset Arms boarders, and a faded one of young Gerald and him dressed as fruits. Helga recognized the costumes and chuckled at the memory.
She poked around his desk for a bit, flipping through half-done homework assignments with sketches of buildings, chairs, and windows in their margins. Actually there was a surprising amount of sketches of buildings. Some of them she recognized from the street, some she suspected were originals. Interesting. Did he have an interest in architecture she didn’t know about? It was fun to see new pieces of him seamlessly mixed in with the old memories. She glanced again at the shelves behind Arnold’s bed. To the cubby with a small red shoe and a pink journal. Her memories were here, too. He kept her past, and so many people’s pasts, like a time capsule.
Arnold came back with glorious food and Helga gave long praises to whoever had invented fried potato chips and salami sandwiches. The food helped give them some energy and they moved along, glad to be hardly fighting at all, sitting on the floor surrounded by papers and books. The light from the glass ceiling had slowly disappeared and after a while Arnold began to suppress some yawns.
"Sleepy?" Helga asked, knowing he must be exhausted from waking up early for detention, running back and forth during school as president, helping organize a dance, long basketball practices, and on top of all that keeping up with his school work and hers.
"I'm ok. Just worn out from basketball today," he said.
"Well, that is one thing I don't miss about it," she said. She lay on the floor on her stomach, looking at a book with drawings of Baba Yaga sacrificing virgins while Arnold typed up a draft of the paper. "Having my life completely sucked away by the basketball gods. Then of course I'd come home and my dad would drag me down to the court and make me practice for another couple hours."
Arnold paused his typing. "Nice of him to support you so much, right?"
"Yeah, I guess.” She pushed the book away and rolled onto her back, folding her hands over her stomach and looking up at the dark sky through the ceiling. “We do get along better when we talk about sports, but my dad sometimes forgets I'm a girl. The other day he told me I'd better start getting in shape so I could try out for the boys' baseball team in the spring. I think he thinks I'm the son he never had. My mom's not much better—she finally realized I'm nothing like my sister, but I don't think she knows what to do with me. Whatever. It's not like I really know what to do with her." She looked up at him. "Don't get me wrong, football head, just 'cause my family's not perfect like yours doesn't mean we're not fine."
"Perfect? My family is not perfect. At least at school PTA potlucks your mom doesn't dress like Queen Ka'iluani in a hula skirt and roast a pig in the gym, like my Grandma. Or get in a fight with your seventh grade math teacher and challenge them to a school-wide arm wrestling tournament, like my Grandpa. And the deal is if he loses I have to drop out of school."
Helga chuckled. "Boss. At least he must have won."
She heard Arnold put the laptop aside and then he flopped down on the floor too, the top of his head nearly touching hers. "My grandparents are almost ninety years old, and there's a dozen other people here, but sometimes I feel like the only adult in the house. I'm used to it, I guess, and I love them just the way they are and wouldn't want them to change, but sometimes I'd like to not have to worry."
"I know the feeling. I've been babysitting my parents for years. They're lucky I turned out so dang awesome, since they really had nothing to do with it. Guess it's a good thing, since you can't survive in this screwed up world unless you learn to rely only on yourself."
Arnold was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Well, that's what friends are for. You can rely on them."
"Hmph. I don't know. Lenny's too dumb to help anyone and Teri's advice usually consists of 'Worry about it later; have a cupcake now.' Agatha's a foster child who doesn't understand how to function in the real world. I can't rely on them, they're all too busy relying on me."
“That’s pretty impressive, Helga.”
“What? How so?”
“Well, you say you’re on your own, but you still make sure to take care of all your friends.”
Helga felt her cheeks warm slightly. “Tch.”
"What about Phoebe? You can always rely on Phoebe,” he said.
"True, she's always willing. But Phoebe's going places with her life. She doesn't need my baggage holding her back." Helga didn't mean to be unloading on him. She picked up a book again and held it above her. "Whatever. It's not that big of a deal. Guess it's just life," and hoped that would change the subject.
"Helga."
"Huh?"
"If you're ever having a hard time, I want you to come here."
She paused. "...Why?"
"It's a good place to be. And I know everyone downstairs liked you. We're friends, right? You can rely on me."
The old carpet soaked up his words and left the room oddly silent. A horn beeped somewhere on the street outside. Then Helga propped herself up on her elbow and turned to look at him, surprised when she found him lying closer than she thought, his face upside-down underneath hers. He looked up at her steadily, and her heart rate spiked at his emerald green gaze and warm breath on her face. Back up! Her brain was screaming, This is a recipe for disaster! You were playing it so cucumber-cool, don’t mess up now! He'll think you're a total freak! He's probably so creeped out right now! But her body wasn't listening. She was tempted, so tempted, to lean forward and kiss him. It had been a long time since she had kissed those lips, and she wondered if they tasted as good at age sixteen as they had at age nine.
A strand of her hair fell down and grazed his cheek, soft as silk, and Helga couldn’t tell if she was falling or moving closer to him.
Then he suddenly pulled away and sat up and right then his grandfather opened the door.
"Hey, Shortman! You two getting anything done up here?" Phil said.
Helga had sat up facing the wall, her face crimson.
Behind her, Arnold cleared his throat. "Yeah, we're almost done," he said. He cleared his throat again. “I think?”
Phil scratched his head. "Well, that's too bad, I was thinking I could help some. I'm sure you two are far more interesting than listening to that rugrat Iva repeat the story of Winnie the Pooh for the third time. Some kids are just dull as a tack."
"Uh-huh," Arnold replied. "Tacks."
Helga patted her cheeks, willing them to cool down. She couldn't believe what she had almost done. She had almost kissed him! But he had pulled away. Of course. Glancing up at the little red shoe, she snorted. He might have kissed Cecile. But Helga was only Helga. And she was supposed to be keeping her rampant emotions under control.
She quietly and quickly stacked some of the books around them and tucked them under an arm before standing. "It's late, I'd better be going now," she declared.
She stepped toward the door, grabbing her things, not making eye contact with either grandfather or grandson.
"Oh, ok," Arnold stood and followed as she hurried down the stairs and through the hall. Phil followed, saying, "Did I miss something?"
For some ungodly reason, Arnold was keeping up behind her. "How are you getting home?" he asked.
"Bus," she answered curtly.
"You shouldn't take the bus, it's late. I'll drive you."
"No thanks, the bus is fine."
"Grandpa, can I borrow the Packard?"
"Sure, Arnold," Phil answered.
"The Packard, are you kidding? That old thing's still around?" Helga said. "That hunk of junk will fall apart around us. I'd rather take my chances with the bus."
"Hey," Phil said, "that Packard is in prime condition, I'll have you know! A little bit of sweat and love can keep anything together."
"Well, I just spent the last two and a half hours cooped up with this geek, and I'm ready to be rid of him, so I'm good."
Arnold merely smiled at her, which she hated. They reached the bottom of the stairs and Helga made for the front door, but Arnold caught her and steered her to the back door.
"The Packard's this way," he said.
"I don't care where the stupid Packard is!"
Phil took the keys from his pocket and tossed them to Arnold as they left through the back door. Arnold led a reluctant Helga around to the garage, eventually got her into the car, and pulled out onto the dark streets of Hillwood to the newer developed east side.
The drive from Arnold's to Helga's was a little over twenty-five minutes, and was mostly done in a mildly tense silence, broken only when Helga gave directions or made fun of his grandma-slow driving.
Finally, after some serious teasing, he sped up, and Helga said sarcastically, "Wow, three miles over the speed limit. What a rebel."
He laughed and she had to spend the rest of the ride determinedly looking out the window.
They reached Helga’s neighborhood with its rows of perfectly matching new town homes. Streetlights glowed down on the green car as it pulled up alongside Helga's house and stopped.
"Thanks," Helga said, opening the car door.
"Sure," Arnold replied. Just before she slammed the door, he called, "Hey, Helga."
Oh, holy hell, don’t say anything about it. Why can’t he just pretend it never happened. She sucked in a breath and forced herself to look at him.
But what he said was, "What I said earlier, about coming over if you need someone—I meant it."
"...I know you did," she said. She knew he would shelter anyone who needed it; he was that kind of person. But it was still nice to know. And he was polite enough not to mention what may or may not have possibly been about to occur, or how red her face was. If I have to be stuck in unrequited love, she thought, at least it's with a good guy like you, Chuck. She shut the car door and turned to her home, but it felt less like home than the run down boarding house that she hadn't been to in years.
Chapter 8: Laying on the Moves
Chapter Text
"Very good, my little cherubs!" Mrs. Joy cooed to her student council. "There you go, Jeffrey! Gretta, don't hurt yourself! Take it easy...deep breaths everyone...exhale...and on to downward dog."
The student council class always began with a "relaxing" sun salutation. Mrs. Joy stood at the front of the class in her pink stretchy pants, Enya playing softly in the background. The desks had been pushed aside, shoes had been shed, and yoga mats had been pulled from the cupboard so the student council could follow after their leader. Arnold was toward the back of the class, going through the motions absently along with Gerald, who wasn't actually supposed to be there at all. Lila was a few feet away, obediently doing her yoga next to a red faced Junior, Gretta, and encouraging her when she stopped to breathe heavily.
"Are you sure that's what it was?" Gerald said quietly, striking a warrior-one pose.
"Positive," Arnold replied in a whisper.
He whistled low. "Whoa. Were you gonna kiss her back?"
"Obviously. But my grandpa came in right then."
Gerald shook his head. "Ah, man. Bad timing, Grandpa."
Arnold tried not to remember his annoyance over his grandfather’s particularly bad entrance last night. "He's never been one for finesse,” Arnold said.
"Doesn't he know that you haven't kissed a girl since Missy Wiggins planted one on you at the back-to-school dance in ninth grade?"
They both shuddered at the memory and switched positions at Mrs. Joy's command.
"Missy Wiggins..." Arnold muttered with a wince.
Gerald made a face. "How did she have so many teeth…"
"I still have nightmares."
"I still have nightmares, and I wasn’t even the victim. All the more reason it's a shame Grandpa interrupted—any girl's gotta be a better kisser than Missy Wiggins."
"Mr. Johanssen," Mrs. Joy called from the front, her smile too tight, "I don't believe you're supposed to be here."
Arnold and Gerald froze.
"Uh..." Gerald looked to Arnold. Gerald was ditching Biology, since Arnold had told him he needed to talk to him about something important. Besides, he had said, he had heard the student council always had snacks.
"It's all right, Mrs. Joy," Arnold jumped in, "I invited him. You see, he pulled a muscle during basketball practice and I thought the yoga would be good for it."
"Right, yeah, yeah," Gerald said, rubbing his knee dramatically. "Arnold told me how healing yoga was and what a great instructor he had, so I thought, why not? Mr. Hagberg signed this hall pass, if you want it." Gerald did have a pass, although he had told Mr. Hagberg he was in the library doing an extra credit project. He quickly weaved through the students doing the dancer-pose and handed the pass to her.
She looked at it sternly, before tossing it aside cheerfully. "Well, then, welcome! We're always glad to impart of whatever we have to the less fortunate, aren't we class?" And she took them all into downward dog again.
Arnold could only wait a few breaths before he quietly jumped back into their earlier conversation, "But you're missing the point, Gerald. Helga tried to kiss me ."
"Yeah, that’s totally crazy." Gerald put his hands together in front of him, eyes closed.
Arnold did the same, but didn't close his eyes. When he closed his eyes, the memory only got stronger and more distracting. The image of Helga’s surprised face leaning over him, framed by the dark sky above, had been on his mind since last night. Her face a new shade of red he’d never seen before. The soft brush of a strand of her hair that fell to touch his cheek. He didn’t think he had imagined it—no, certainly he hadn’t—she had been, imperceptibly, coming closer.
She had left in a hurry after that, and Arnold hadn’t been able to think of one clever thing to say practically the entire drive to her house. She had been surprisingly chill, and it had him second guessing every thirty seconds that he had only imagined it. Maybe she wasn’t making eye contact for other reasons. No, but her cheeks were still a little pink. Maybe she had only gotten caught up in the moment when they were talking about deeper things. Or maybe she actually didn’t like Moze as much as he thought she might.
Arnold continued, "No, not crazy. Well, it is. But I mean, it's weird because it felt...mutual. I think she might like me, Gerald."
Gerald opened an eye at him. "Like you? As in, like you , like you?"
“Why else would she try to kiss me?”
“Weren’t we saying the other day that she didn’t treat you any differently than anyone else, other than the fact that she argues with you more than anyone else?” Gerald pointed out.
“Yeah, I know, we did. But I’ve been thinking about it since last night, and I mean, we had a good time together yesterday. I had fun.”
Gerald gave him a knowing smirk, “Uh-huh, I bet you did.”
“Shut up. But no way she’s the kind of person who tries to kiss someone without a reason. So maybe I’ve been reading her wrong. Her jumpiness and her irritability might be her feeling nervous around me.”
"Whoa, whoa. Nervous around you? I mean, I can buy that you guys had such a great time last night she was feeling all cozy and warmed up, but you’re telling me any time she’s woken up on the wrong side of the bed it’s actually ‘cause you make her so giddy she short circuits? You think your schemes to get her to like you worked that well? Stuff like that only works out on TV. You're rationalizing her actions like you know what she's thinking, but you don't, man. Maybe you like her too much so you're seeing things that aren't really there."
Arnold hated to admit that sounded plausible. He sighed. "Maybe...I hope not."
They followed the rest of the class as they lowered to their mats, stretching. After a second of meditation Gerald said in an even quieter whisper, "Come to think of it, there is always something a little off. Like how she'll yell at you or something, but then when you’re not around she only says nice things about you. And she does look at you a lot, but I was just assuming it was because she could sense you were looking at her a lot…but she did work way harder than anyone to make you president. Damn, hold up. Maybe she does like you."
Arnold perked up, his heart skipping. "Yeah? You think it’s possible?"
"Could be. We’ve known weirder girls. Like Missy Wiggins.”
They both shuddered again.
Gerald continued, “Man, I do not get women...But if she does, what are you going to do about it?"
"I guess I'm going to ask her out."
Gerald turned on him and said a little too loudly, "Ask her out?"
At the front, Mrs. Joy said with eyes closed, "Shhh, Mr. Johanssen...now is not the time for idle chatter. Now is the time to clear your mind. Think healing thoughts. Class, send good vibes to Gerald's injured knee..."
They meditated as they were supposed to for about ten seconds before Arnold whispered, "What's wrong with asking her out? You told me to do that just the other day."
"No, no, I said you two should get together and date. Very different. Arnold, you're a very straightforward kinda guy, and I like that, but Helga is not the kind of lady you simply 'ask out'. Helga is a lady that needs special handling. You said yourself, she has a weird need to feel tough, right? And if she gets all embarrassed or whatever, she might blow you off. No, you have to get her to confess first."
"Get her to confess?"
"Yep. You see, Helga wants to feel like she's in control. If you get her to confess first, then you're giving her the upper hand by letting her take the lead. She'll feel like it was her idea, so there won't be anything for her to be embarrassed about and she'll feel free to speak her own mind without the pressure of knowing how you feel. Plus, it'll save you the risky business of asking her out. Let's say you ask her out, and it turns out she totally doesn't like you the way you thought and you're completely humiliated and shunned by the whole school. Or, even if she does like you, she might freak out like she does and just make fun of you, and again, you'll be completely humiliated."
Arnold imagined these scenarios and quickly began to see Gerald's point of view. Mrs. Joy clapped her hands and told them all it was time to go on, and as Arnold was rolling up his mat he asked, "Alright, so how do I get her to confess first?"
"Simple: you have to go on being your adorable self, and you have to give her every opportunity to say it. If she really likes you, she'll want to tell you, so it won't be that hard. And you should say stuff like—" Gerald's voice dropped an octave, "'Frankly, my dear Helga, I don't give a damn'."
"What? Why that?"
"I dunno, that's what some guy said on one of my mom's shows. It got the girl to love him, and my mom went all ga-ga, too."
"Really? That line did? I don't get it."
"Me neither, but don't question what works, man."
The library was generally empty during lunch, with only a small handful of nerdy busybodies sitting around who wanted to get a head start on next month's homework. However, these few nerdy busybodies had found themselves homeless over the last few days. The library had become overrun with Sophomores, and the busybodies had turned up their noses, taken deep breaths from their inhalers, and stalked off to find a quiet classroom to study in. At the library doors stood Torvald, the oldest, tallest, most muscular kid in the Sophomore grade, and probably in the school. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and kept sentry, determined to protect the important man within.
The back corner of the library had become the unofficial headquarters for the Sophomore presidency. Oftentimes there was a line of students, waiting to see the president in order to seek his help with some problem or another. Arnold sat at a table and listened to each student before judging what to do. On this particular Friday, as Arnold listened to the woeful tales of his fellow students, Helga sat next to him. She had paid Torvald two Yahoo sodas to let her in, had tossed her things on the floor, flipped open a book on Baba Yaga, and propped her feet up on the table and proceeded to pretend to read.
Currently, a pudgy boy stood in front of Arnold, wringing his hat nervously as he retold an overly dramatic story about blackmailing some upperclassmen, which ended with him being stuffed into a locker. Upside down.
Helga glanced over the top of her book at the boy's thick girth. "How'd they get you to fit, pork chop? Butter or grease?"
The boy looked down at himself.
"Don't mind her, Louie," Arnold said. "She gets cranky when she's bored."
She grunted but Arnold ignored her and simply lifted her feet momentarily, since they were resting on a stack of papers. He took one and began scribbling on it. Helga briefly glanced at his writing.
"You're sending him up to Park?" she said. "Hmph. That's awful generous of you." She glanced up at Louie coolly. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "You should be grateful, Pillsbury. You got yourself in a lot of trouble with the seniors, and the Prez is being far too nice, helping you out."
"Yes, ma'am, I understand," said Louie.
"You owe him, kid."
"Of course, of course. Anything."
Arnold set the pencil down, folded the paper quickly and held it out to Louie. "Take this to the third floor. Park runs a hideout up there for kids in trouble. Go to room #307 and find Hank—he'll be in the World of Warcraft lab. Tell him you're looking for the Sanctuary. Tell him I sent you." Louie reached for it, but Arnold didn't let it go right away. "Louie, don't tell anyone where you're going, and don't you dare mention Park. A lot of upperclassmen would love to gut-out the Sanctuary. Understand?"
Louie nodded earnestly, eyes misting. "Yes, sir."
Arnold let go. "All right. They'll protect you from the seniors while we think of how to fix what you've done. Go on."
Louie backed away, wiping his nose, cheeks jiggling in excitement. "Yes, sir, thank you, sir. I promise, I won't say anything. Thank you!" He slapped his wrinkled hat back on his head and tried not to trip over his feet as he hurried away.
For the moment, no other Sophomores were waiting, so Arnold leaned forward on the table and rubbed his face.
Helga shook her head. "You're way too nice to these kids, Arnold. You've only been president for two weeks, but at this rate they'll be walking all over you by next week. Besides, it's Friday. You're supposed to be taking a break from work, aren't you? Relaxing and what not? You haven't even had lunch, though."
Arnold shrugged, straightening some papers in front of him. "It's all right, I've got work. I won't let them walk all over me, but I feel like I have to help. It's my duty."
"Oh, Chuck, you and your sense of duty. But I guess you just wouldn't be you without it. Maybe that's why your head is so big—it's full of morals," she said.
"Morals?"
"Yeah, you know. Good ones, noble ones, ridiculously high ones."
"Why would morals take on the shape of a football?"
She shrugged. "A square would just look too weird."
He chuckled. "Whatever you say." He paused, then said seriously, "Frankly, my dear Helga, I don't give a damn." Then he leaned forward and watched her closely.
She blinked at his intense stare a few times. "I'm sorry, was I supposed to respond to that? I'm not sure what you're looking for, there, Mr. Gone-With-The-Wind."
He looked back down at his papers. "Never mind."
A ruckus down the aisle to the door made them both turn. Stinky and Sid made their way to the table, Sid taking three steps for Stinky's every one.
"Arnold," Sid demanded as soon as they reached him, "You're a man of good taste—what do you think of my new boots?"
"They're plum ridiculous, is what they are!" Stinky accused. "Arnold, tell Sid that they're the gaudiest pair of snake skins you've ever seen, because they are."
"Come on, Stinky," Sid said. "Red is the new white." He picked his foot up and rested it on the table's edge, showing off a pair of fire engine red cowboy boots. He pointed at them proudly. "Pulling. Them. Off."
They were hideous. Helga made a face at them, then shared a disbelieving look with Arnold.
"They're really something else," Arnold said.
"Very you, Sid," Helga agreed.
"Thank you!" Sid turned to his tall friend triumphantly. "See? What'd I tell you?"
"Don't be soft in the head, they're only bein' nice. It's plain as day they hate 'em!" Stinky said.
"You're just jealous because these boots are my ticket to winning all the ladies at the dance tomorrow night. For once, more girls will want to talk to me than you."
Stinky rolled his eyes. "Fer cryin' out loud, Sid! I'm tryin' to save you from yourself! No one has boots like those for a reason!"
"Yeah, which is why they're the perfect ice breaker!"
Helga stood and backed away from the arguing pair, not really caring to hear them squabble over audacious footwear. "I'm going to go find more books for my project."
"Now? You don't want to stay and help me settle this?" Arnold looked pointedly at her, like please don't leave me with these idiots.
Helga smirked. "Oh, I'm sure you can handle it. You are the fashion expert on red and blue, remember?"
Arnold slumped back in his chair with an exasperated sigh. Helga shook her head at the poor sucker and wandered over to another book aisle.
She wasn't quite sure what she was doing there in the library. She had finished the last of their project yesterday, although Arnold had admittedly written up the bulk of it on Wednesday. Yet she had bribed her way past the bodyguard to tell Arnold she needed more help with it. She was a glutton for punishment, it would seem. Every time she looked Arnold in the eye the last two days (which was rarely, because she hardly saw him, and when she did she usually avoided eye-contact) she could swear she could tell that he was thinking: "You tried to kiss me, you weirdo. I can't believe you." Yet here she was, making up excuses to hang around him anyway.
"Oh, bitter sweet love," she mumbled, absently glancing over the history books, "I'm unable to elude you. I tried to remove you once but it seems my affection only grew. But why, foolish heart, are you determined after one who cares for you naught? T'would seem I'm forever doomed to play the Lady of Shalott."
"That's pretty."
Helga spun and pressed herself against the bookshelf, knocking a few heavy books onto her head. She rubbed her head and looked at the tall girl with broad shoulders and brown hair who stood in the aisle, pushing a library cart full of books. Helga stared, debating whether or not to kill herself or this girl first to relieve the embarrassment.
"Did you write that poem?" the girl asked. From behind her stepped Lila, who smiled at Helga pleasantly.
"I bet you did, didn't you, Helga?" Lila said. "It's ever so sweet."
Helga cleared her throat and straightened her oversized pink sweater, trying to compose herself. "Uh, thanks."
"I wish I could write poetry," Lila turned to her friend. "Don't you, Patty?"
"I've never had the knack for it, I'm afraid," the big girl answered.
Helga did a double take at the girl. "Patty? Criminy, as in Big Patty?"
Patty raised an eyebrow at her. Even though she had a floral patterned blouse and a flower in her hair, Helga was still weary of Patty's large, meaty fists. As a kid, Helga might have been the playground bully, but she had gotten her own fair share of punches from those fists.
"Er, I mean, wow, Patty, long time no see! Good to, uh, see you. Here. In the library," Helga rambled.
"Well I am the library teacher's assistant. I'm always here," Patty said, proving it by sliding a book onto the shelf. "You're a pretty decent poet, Helga. Was that about someone you like?"
"Uhh..." Helga stammered.
Lila sighed dreamily, a hand to her freckled cheek. "There's something so romantic about unrequited love, don't you think? Or perhaps I'm trying to romanticize it to make myself feel better."
Helga scoffed. "Right, like your love could be unrequited."
It was insulting, really, that Lila thought she was in the same situation. There had been a time, a long time ago, that Lila had spurned Arnold's feelings, but surely she would have realized her mistake now. How could she not? True, she had a lot of attention from the older boys at school, but now it might only a matter of time before Arnold and Lila, Mr. and Mrs. Perfect, class president and class vice president, announced their undying love and affection and ran away to happy fairy land, leaving Helga to wallow away in self pity.
Really, some things never changed, no matter how many years passed.
And it wasn't all in Helga's head, either. Since the election, the whole school thought the two were dating, and every time Helga turned a corner some stupid group of girls was cooing about how adorable it was that they got elected together because they're "totally in luv! Aw!" Which may have been another reason Helga was in the library today. Maybe she liked spending time with him, feeling like his friend, being invited to his house, and she was trying to take advantage of it while he was still a single man. Before a sweet girl like Lila snatched him away. Before he told Helga he would never kiss her.
Lila herself, however, raised her eyebrows. "I'm afraid it is. In fact, I don't think he even knows I exist."
Ok, now Lila was being a teenage soap opera. But Helga really didn't want to hear about Lila's Disney channel love life. She turned and sidled away, trying to make a subtle escape.
Lila continued anyway, "I suppose I can't blame him. He's always so busy, doing his job. I admire him so much, though; he's always so quiet and hard working." She sighed again. "I'm not surprised he doesn't notice me. Someone as kind and handsome as he is must have lots of girls. And why not? He's cute and tall and blond—and I think his glasses make him look so intelligent."
Helga stopped. "Glasses?" She turned around. "Arnold doesn't wear glasses."
"Well, no, Arnold doesn't, but I wasn't talking about Arnold," Lila said.
"You...you weren't talking about Arnold?"
Lila laughed. "No, of course not. Arnold and I are only friends. He did like me like me when we were younger, but I'm ever so sure that he only thinks of me as a friend now."
Helga didn't know what to make of this. In her brain, it had been inevitable. She didn't know if this new development was relieving, or more troubling, because then she thought Arnold no-doubt liked some other girl, someone Helga didn't know. Dark thoughts quickly went out into the cosmic universe towards a faceless girl who was the object of Arnold's desires.
Patty patted Lila. "Don't worry, Lila. He'll notice you some day."
Lila turned to the tall girl with concern. "I'm sorry, Patty, I was being insensitive. Your situation is much more sad than mine."
"What, you too?" Helga was starting to think that this unrequited love thing was an epidemic at this school. If girls like Lila couldn't get the guy, what hope was there for the rest of them?
Patty shrugged. "Childhood friends, I thought we were more than that, but then he started dating some rich girl. She was beautiful, I wasn't." She picked up a book from the cart and inspected it solemnly before putting it on the shelf. "There's not a whole lot I can do about that."
"Don't be like that, Patty!" Lila chided. "You're a beautiful, wonderful girl! It's a shame he couldn't see that."
"Hmph." Helga shoved her hands in her pockets and leaned back against the shelf. "I dunno, I think you guys might have the better end of it. Having him not know you exist, or even dating someone else, seems better to me. At least it's definitive. Having him be all chummy and friendly and paying so much attention to you, only to know that he treats all the other girls the same pretty much sucks eggs."
"Is that your problem, Helga?" Patty asked.
Helga responded with a noncommittal shrug.
"It seems we're all in the same boat," Lila said.
"Bummer," Helga said. "I wish I could forget him. Life would be so much easier, right?"
Patty looked pensive but then shook her head. "I don't think I want to forget. It's true, sometimes it hurts, and sometimes I wish things were different...But you know what they say—better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
Lila nodded. "I agree. And even though he doesn't love me back, I don't regret loving him, even for a second, because I believe that he deserves it. I think he's a very nice boy. And it's even ok if he likes someone else—when he's happy, I'm happy. Sometimes that's all I need."
Helga didn't know if she wanted to hug these girls or slap them. They were on such a higher plane than she was. But then, even as they spoke she felt she already knew what they were saying was right. She had always hoped for Arnold to return her feelings, but that wasn't why she kept loving him. She loved him because he was so good she couldn't help it. And maybe that was all she needed. It was ok for her to love him, even if he didn't love her back. She was a grown up, new Helga now. Perhaps she was ready to simply embrace the feelings with no expectations.
"You guys," Helga said, putting a hand on each of their shoulders, a little choked up. "I like you guys."
Lila giggled and Patty simply said, "I like you, too, Helga," and slid another book on the shelf.
The bell rang, then, signaling the end of lunch and Lila gasped. "Oh, no!" She pulled a paper sack from her bag. "I made this lunch for Arnold, but I got distracted talking to Patty. Now I'm afraid he won't have time to eat it."
Emphatically, Helga proclaimed, "Well, run along, Lila! The man's gotta eat!"
Lila gave her a sly look, before holding the bag out with a smile. "Why don't you take it to him, Helga?"
"Me?"
Patty gave her a sidelong look as well. "Yeah. Lila has to get to class. Why don't you do it?"
"He's had a long day," Lila said, "I'm ever so sure a hardy lunch would make him happy. And isn't his happiness yours?"
Helga looked back and forth between them before snatching the bag. "Tell anyone, and I'll kill you." They smiled at her. For some reason, she believed the secret was safe with them.
She made her way back to the table where Arnold sat, his chin in his hand, still listening while his friends argued about audacious foot wear. She put the lunch bag down in front of him.
“What’s this?” he asked over Sid and Stinky’s bickering.
“Lunch.”
“Did you get this for me?” He looked up at her.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t poison it. Lila made it, I’m just the delivery girl.”
He smiled. “Ah. Well, thanks.”
Arnold pulled a fancy looking sandwich out and chewed on it while Helga told Sid he was ridiculous but if he wanted to be flashy then at least he was accomplishing that much. Sid cackled triumphantly, then stopped and asked if flashy was a good thing. Helga shooed him and Stinky out while Arnold collected his things, his sandwich in his mouth. Arnold met her by the door and handed her the books on Russian folklore. Arnold thanked Torvald for his service and the older boy high fived him and said he'd be back on Monday.
“Sorry I couldn’t help you much today,” Arnold said as they headed down the hall.
Kids scrambled every direction, running to class or deliberately avoiding going to class.
“No worries, Prez. My project's not due until next week,” Helga said.
“Then let’s work on it next week,” he said.
Again she didn’t mention that she had already finished it. “Hey question: is there, like, some tall super hot really busy blond guy with glasses that you know of?”
“What? Why?”
“No reason. Someone just mentioned to me there was a guy like that around here.”
Arnold thought about it, pausing mid chew. “Tall, blond, hot, glasses…and busy?”
“Yeah, like, he does some sort of job around school?”
“Hmm, well, Hurley Ramone is tall and helps out in the offices after school, but he’s got brown hair. Or Jimmy K. is blond with glasses, but he’s short and he’s more interested in trading cards than anything else. The only person I can think of that’s tall, blond, and busy is…maybe Brainy.”
“Brainy?”
They both stopped, looking down the hallway to where the boy in question stood, emptying two garbage bins. He paused when he saw them staring, breathed heavy, and waved. Then a kid bumped into the open garbage bag he had on the floor next to him and Brainy dove after the trash that spilled from it.
“Hot?” Arnold questioned.
Helga could only stare. Then someone put a hand on her head from behind and roughly disheveled her hair.
“Who’s got a death wish?” She spun around with a sneer, only to find Moze laughing behind her.
“You looking to be late for class, Ladybird?” he said, glancing down the swiftly emptying hallway.
“I’m looking to beat the shit out of you, that’s what I’m looking for,” she replied, trying to smooth down her hair.
“Who, me?” he put a hand to his chest innocently.
“Yeah, you,” she replied. She glanced at Arnold, hoping her hair didn’t look too stupid. He was quietly looking at Moze, then back at her.
Moze slung an arm around Helga’s shoulders, putting her in more of a headlock than anything else. “Don’t worry, Mr. President, I’ll see this hooligan gets to class,” Moze informed Arnold.
“Hey, let go of me,” Helga complained, but Moze swung her back toward her classroom.
“See you at practice, Arnold,” Moze added.
“Sure. Helga, see you later?” Arnold said.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there,” Helga said.
“What, be where?” Moze asked.
“Uh, to set up the dance, doi. You have to be there, too,” Helga said, pushing Moze off of her and looking at him pointedly.
“Who, me?” he said innocently again, blinking at her.
“Don’t even try to get out of it, Mozely, or I’ll drag you back here.”
Moze laughed as they headed off down the hall. Helga glanced back once to see Arnold’s retreating form, but was mildly surprised when Arnold still stood where he was, looking at her and Moze, chewing on the other half of his sandwich with an annoyed expression. Must be a bad sandwich, she thought.
The squeak of sneakers on the lacquered gym floor came to a quick halt when Coach Beezus blew a sharp trill on his whistle. The Hedgehog basketball players gathered around their coach, sweaty and tired, while he gave them a quick rundown: "Sanders, that layup was pathetic. Next time you feel like being mediocre, get the ball to Johanssen instead. Harv, in the shotgun play, it's not working to go left, so I'm switching it. Go right, got it? Stinky, work on your footwork. Wolfgang and Arnold, the next time you girls feel like settling your differences, do it outside of my gym! I catch you pulling each other's pigtails in my territory again, you're both benched! Capiche ? All right, Varsity, hit the showers. J.V., stick around." The Varsity team left the court and headed to the locker room, and the Junior Varsity hung around another ten minutes to hear Beezus's "inspiring" words about the game coming up the next week. Then they were dismissed, too, with some heavy threats sworn on the grave of Beezus's grandmother if they didn't get in shape in time to play Darvill High.
Once he reached the sanctuary of the locker room, Arnold took a quick shower, aware that he was supposed to be in the G-wing gym on the other side of the school to help set up the dance for tomorrow. He had dressed and pulled on his shoes by the time everyone else was getting out of the showers, wandering around in towels and boxers. Lenny was the last one left in the showers, soap still in his hair while he loudly sang, "Miss Amanda Joooones!" and played air guitar.
Teri rubbed his shaved head with his towel before chucking it across the aisle at Arnold. "What's your hurry, Troy? You got a musical audition or a hot date or something?"
Gerald wiggled his eyebrows while he sprayed himself down with cologne. "You bet he does."
There was a collective "oooh" from the teammates around the room. Arnold knocked Teri’s towel off and finished tying his shoes, saying, "I'm supposed to help finish setting up for the dance. I'm late, that's all."
"Man, that's boring," Teri complained, and some of the other guys lost interest and turned back to their lockers. "You're always running late or leavin' early for some president thing or dance thing. Do you ever take time for girls?"
"Trust me," Gerald said, "that's what he's doing."
Arnold chucked the towel at Gerald’s face.
"Oh, yeah?" Teri said. "Got a secret crush?" Arnold chose not to answer and Teri started saying "oooh" again before one of the other guys came from the showers and distracted him by trying to put him in a headlock.
"Speaking of your secret crush," Gerald said to Arnold, a little more discreetly, "now would be one of those perfect opportunities we were talking about."
Arnold's heart skipped. "What? Today?"
"Yeah, today. You'll be with her for hours, right?"
"But there'll be people around..."
"So? You can totally find time. It's easy."
Arnold scoffed. "Oh, it's easy, huh? Like you know."
"Of course. Who's the one with a girlfriend?"
"If you think you know so much, Casanova, why don't you come along and give me some pointers?"
Gerald shut his locker, pulling on his jacket. "Yeah, all right. I'll come with you and—wait. Aw. Never mind, I'm not coming."
"Too late, you already agreed."
"Nut-uh, you just want me to come to help you decorate and stuff. I am not doing that."
"Many hands make light work, Gerald."
Moze came around the corner then, fully dressed and with his duffle bag over his shoulder. "You ready, Arnold?"
"Yeah," Arnold replied, dragging Gerald along behind him. "Gerald volunteered to come help."
"Nice, man! Let's go." Moze put an arm around Gerald and assisted in dragging him out of the locker room, past Lenny, who was finally getting out of the shower.
The three boys wandered through the empty halls of their school to the G-wing gym. Unlike the newer basketball gym the team used, the G-wing gym was old, with darker lacquered floors, cobblestone walls that had been smoothed over time, and a tall balcony with iron banisters. The court was smaller than was standard, so it was generally only used for P.E. classes and sometimes by the J.V. when Varsity had a game. Beezus had been pretty irate when J.V. wasn't allowed there that week due to dance-prep, but Rhonda had ignored all the complaining and simply said it was the only remotely adequate room for the dance.
When they got there, the gym was well on its way towards Rhonda's vision. Black plastic covered most of the walls, blocking the windows and reflecting back dim lighting from the overhead lights. Spider webs were strung across the rafters and a skeleton was hung from a basketball hoop by a noose. Plywood walls were being erected on the balcony level in preparation for the miniature scale haunted house, and a small graveyard was being set up in one corner of the court, with a full size coffin that kids could crawl into for pictures. The dozen kids from the dance committee were running around, arms full of decorations, and their numbers were added to by kids from wood shop, building various large pieces of decor, and techies from the broadcasting club, who were working on lighting and surround sound.
Arnold and his two teammates stood in the doorway for a bit, not sure where to go, but it wasn't long before Rhonda spotted them, shoved boxes full of various Halloween-things into their arms, and set them to work. The busy work went on for a couple hours, the sounds of hammering and shouting and the occasional "Shit!" when something went wrong echoing around the gym.
Arnold, who was in the decorations department, quickly became one of the go-to people, giving directions for a band of ghoul wax statues or taxidermized bats, and eventually he ended up on the balcony, overseeing the haunted house that he had designed. He was painting a big "Enter at Own Risk" sign beside Moze, who was hanging a string of black lights to the outside of the house. Gerald was inside the house in one of the rooms, hanging glowing hockey masks from the fake ceiling.
"These are some pretty extensive decorations," Moze said as he screwed flickering lightbulbs into the lanterns beside the stone gargoyles. "I thought we were just going to put up some orange balloons and call it good."
"Rhonda said she wanted it big," Arnold replied with a shrug. "So we went big when planning the decorations.”
“Helga said you guys made posters the other day, but this is way beyond what I was thinking.”
“Yeah, the posters were just for the hallway. They weren’t going to be enough for any real kind of ambiance.”
“Sheesh, and I thought the presidential elections were over the top. You southwest Hillwood kids are something else.”
To punctuate this statement, Mark, a fifteen-year-old with three wristwatches and a mug of coffee, walked by. "All right, clock's a-ticking, people, so let's move a little faster! Arnold, you call that Gothic Bold? Repaint it. Heaven forbid Rhonda sees that . Also, Gabby and Ox have a question about your blueprints for the DJ’s stage, so hop over there before you help Taki recalibrate the motion censored lights by the front door."
“You got it, Mark,” Arnold replied flatly.
"Yikes," Moze said as Mark wandered away to nag some other people. "Well, at the very least, the gym will look pretty awesome for the dance. I'm excited to go."
"No kidding," Gerald said from the other side of the wall, his voice muffled by the fake glass windows, "Me and my lady are gonna have a sweet time. If we ever get done, that is. We've been here for hours."
"It's coming along; I'm sure we'll be done soon," Moze said and flicked a switch to turn the lanterns on. They glowed down on his white shirt and made his teeth shine. He stepped back to admire the gothic victorian house that towered over him, complete with fake chipping paint and a live black cat someone had brought in a carrying case. "Can't wait to go through this with Helga tomorrow."
Then Arnold "accidentally" dripped some paint on Moze's shoe.
"Oh, sorry," he said. Gerald rolled his eyes and Moze stepped back to try to wipe the paint off.
"So, you're going with Helga Pataki, right?" Arnold asked casually, not looking at Moze.
"Yeah, I am," Moze said, scrubbing blood-red paint from his shoe.
"Cool, yeah. Do you like her?"
Through the window Gerald made a brief slash across his throat at Arnold's bluntness, but Arnold ignored him.
Moze chuckled. "We're good friends."
Arnold nodded. "So you're just friends. You don't think of her like that."
"Well, I didn't say that."
Arnold turned to him, but Nadine came by then and asked if she could borrow Moze's height. Moze followed her away and Gerald came out of the house.
"Smooth, Romeo," Gerald said dryly, leaning against the side of the house and petting the black cat on the windowsill.
"What do you think that meant, Gerald?" Arnold said anxiously. "That he does like her, like her? Or that he might have thought of her that way before but didn't really like her, liker her? Or that he just thought that it was possible that someone might like her, like her, but he doesn't necessarily?"
"Dude, I have no idea how deep his level of 'like' goes, ok? But don't panic yet; I thought we established that Helga likes you, anyway."
"Well, I think so. But it's possible she might like him, too."
Gerald thought about this, the cat rubbing up against his chin. "Could be, I guess. Helga could be one of those girls who likes to kiss around."
Arnold dropped his paintbrush in the bucket and glared at him. "Not helping."
"I'm kidding. Arnold, come on. If you're so antsy about it, do something. Helga's down on the first floor, yellin' at people. Go talk to her. Lay on some moves."
Arnold wrinkled his nose. "Lay on some moves?"
"Yeah, you know. Go compliment her, be a gentleman. Sidle up real close like this and give her the sizzle-eyes." Gerald demonstrated this to Arnold, looking at him intensely. "She'll be pouring out her heart in no time."
Arnold looked skeptical.
"Trust me. Who's the one with the girlfriend?" Gerald said.
"You wouldn't have that girlfriend if I hadn't helped you ask her out."
"So now I'm repaying the favor." He shoved Arnold forward. "I'll finish up for you here. So don't come back 'til you've kissed the girl, my man."
Helga knelt over large, black cardboard cutouts of creepy creatures and men with axes and dark hoods. When she was finished cutting them out she was going to put them in dark corners of the bathrooms. They weren't actually a part of the official decorations plan, but they would probably scare the crap out of some dumb kids when they saw their reflection in the mirror, so Helga was doing it anyway. Hettie, Curly's cute freckled girlfriend, knelt close by, helping.
Helga was getting sick of having to boss around all these idiots. Seriously, rigging a skeleton to spring out of a grave when someone walked by the fake cemetery wasn’t that hard, yet she'd had to make the boys installing it re-do it twice. And she was so fed up with the kids assembling the zombie horses for the carriage at the photobooth wall that every time one of them came over to talk to her, she ignored them completely.
Plus, all these kids were klutzes. She didn't know how or who, but somehow wherever she went something tried to kill her. There was a big bruise on her arm from an Igor manikin falling on her; a cut on her leg from fake barbed wire getting caught around her leg and tripping her; and the end of her hair still smelled singed from when it had nearly caught on fire by one of the metal welders club’s torches. She was beginning to think she had accidentally caught the attention of some angry gym ghost or something.
Rhonda walked by with Ashlee and Nadine beside her, all three of them with clipboards. Moze and Harold came behind them carrying a ladder.
"Helga, fabulous job with the glow in the dark riddle scavenger hunt on the back of the tombstones. Real poetic and creepy," Rhonda said as she passed, then checked something on her clipboard. "When you're done, help Jake and Selena with the zombie horses—the fools can't get the heads to hang straight."
Helga growled loudly and jabbed her scissors into the heart of the ax murderer she was cutting out.
"You and me both, girl," Rhonda nodded and moved on.
"Take it easy, Pataki. What'd that flat guy ever do to you?" Harold asked with a dumb laugh.
Moze said chummily, "Remind me not to tick you off when you've got scissors around."
"So long as you don't make me be in charge of a team of idiots, Captain," she responded, "you'll be safe."
He chuckled. "I'll remember that," he said and the two boys went after their dance committee leader.
"He was an attractive specimen," Hettie said, eyeing Moze. "Is that your boy?"
"Moze? Heh, no. He's a friend."
"Oh. Shame. Is that your boy, then?" Hetta gestured to someone behind Helga.
Helga looked over her shoulder to see Arnold weaving through the graveyard towards her. Why, yes. That was her boy, actually.
"Hey," he said when he reached her.
"Hey," she said back.
She was pleased when he crouched beside her. He eyed the scissors sticking out of her cardboard cutout and asked, "What are you working on?"
She pulled the scissors out. "I thought the bathrooms could use a little sprucing up."
Hettie spoke up in a matter-of-fact way, "It's common for demons to frequent restroom areas. It's easy for them to crawl up through the plumbing and it's a far more convenient place when cleaning up the blood and intestines once they've had their way with you."
"Oh," Arnold said.
Helga shared an understanding look with him. After spending over an hour with Hettie, Helga was beginning to understand how she was dating Curly.
"Can I help?" Arnold asked.
There were a million other things to do, and these cutouts weren’t even on the official list. Yet Helga wasn’t going to turn him away if she could work near him for a while. She shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat."
He fetched a pair of scissors from the tool box she had been toting around and started cutting from the other side of her ax murderer. Helga’s shoulder bumped his when they met in the middle and she felt her blood spike at his proximity, but she crushed any hint of mortifying memory of nearly trying to kiss him in his bedroom. She reminded herself again to be grateful he was politely pretending it hadn’t happened so they could maintain polite-acquaintance-friendship status.
When they and Hettie moved to the hulking werewolf cutout next, Helga glanced over at him, his sleeves rolled up and his focused face on, and reminded herself of her conversation with Lila and Patty earlier that day. It’s ok to be in unrequited love, she told herself. You don’t have to lose control when you’re freaking out about it, either. There was nothing wrong with it, and it wasn’t as if anyone who might embarrass her knew about it. If Lila and Patty could live with it, so could Helga.
With that thought to spur her on, she said, "All your designs are really comin’ to life.”
“Our designs,” he corrected. "Yeah, everything’s looking good. Although I'm starting to think we've bitten off more than we can chew with these decorations.”
"You're only now starting to think that? Not when I said this was ga-ga level for a public school a week ago?"
He shrugged. "It's not too unusual. You should have seen the back to school dance a couple months ago. The theme was 'Disneyland' and we had a to-scale miniature of the Matterhorn spewing soda and the castle for couples to take pictures in."
"So you’re saying the school is falling apart at the seams because all the budget goes to wild parties?”
"Ha, no, there’s no budget. We always do everything homemade."
"Of course you do. Some of the people at this school are even more annoyingly creative and driven than you are."
"Hey." He picked up the werewolf and pointed its claws at her. "No one is more annoyingly creative and driven than I am. Except maybe you."
She chuckled and he smiled. Suddenly, he lunged across the cutout and grabbed her arm, holding it up.
"Be careful!" he said to Hettie, who's scissors had come dangerously close to Helga's fingers.
Hettie looked at him with wide eyes. "I apologize. I was simply so focused on the rhythm of cutting that I wasn't paying attention. There's something so soothing about using a sharp object to sever something, isn't there?"
"Uh. Sure," Arnold said.
Helga flexed her fingers, imagining the little stubs she might have if Arnold wasn’t so observant. Using the arm he was still holding, Arnold pulled Helga to a stand. The cutouts were done, so the three of them gathered them up and headed toward the hall. Helga gave the kids working on the zombie horses a fierce glare as she passed them and they hurriedly tried to look like they knew what they were doing.
“You sure we can both afford to disappear, even for ten minutes?” Helga asked Arnold as they left the gym. “You don’t think everyone will spiral into a panic when they realize we’re gone?”
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he replied with a sidelong glance at her.
She smirked. “Errant of you, Prez.”
The hall was also being decorated, and at one end Moze stood on a tall ladder, fastening a creaking iron "Welcome" sign to the ceiling with Harold. Helga walked underneath Moze's ladder, and he called, "That's ten years of bad luck, Pataki!"
She replied over her shoulder, "I'll add it to my count!"
They did the girls bathroom first, hiding a cutout behind the door, and one inside a stall. They left Hettie to duct tape the last into position and moved on to the boys bathroom. Helga had saved the creepiest cutouts for the boys bathroom, because boys were way more fun to scare. They pretended to be tough but they could scream like the dickens. She and Arnold set one cutout in the farthest corner, and Helga tested it, standing in front of the sink mirror to make sure it would be reflected over your shoulder.
"Perfect," Helga said. "I wish it wasn't so bright in here, though. It’s gross enough in here, but I think we could really up the 'Pit of Despair' vibe. Maybe the tech kids have extra black lights."
"Wait a sec," Arnold said. He grabbed the waist-high garbage can and dragged it underneath the nearest fluorescent lights. "Hold onto this."
"Uh, 'k." She held the bin steady, only to be surprised when Arnold climbed on top of it, balancing with one foot on either side of the rim. She held it even more steady out of worry, looking up at him like he was crazy. "Are you kidding, get down! You're gonna fall and crack your head open and I'm gonna have no idea how to save you so you're going to bleed to death and die!"
"Thanks for the comfort," he said, bracing himself with one hand on the ceiling. He popped open the rectangular light cover and unscrewed one of the fluorescent tubes, cutting the light in the room in half. He messed with the other tube, unscrewing it a little and setting it off center so the circuit wasn't complete. It flickered ominously. "How's that?" he asked.
"Yes, fabulous, now come down," she said.
Right then Hettie came in carrying a chair.
"Look, Hettie's brought a chair!" Helga said. "So come down, you can stand on that instead."
"It’s ok, I'm done." But as he was popping the cover back on, the fire sprinklers went off.
"What the hell?" Helga blinked in the faux rain and turned to Hettie. The red head was calmly climbing down from the chair, blowing out the little flame on a match she held. "Hettie, what the crap?"
Hettie looked back at her coldly and shrugged before walking out of the bathroom.
"Little freak..." Helga helped Arnold jump down, grabbing his shirt so he didn't slip on the wet floor. They ducked from the sprinklers and pushed on the door. It didn’t budge.
"Uh-oh," Arnold said, water dripping down his face as he pushed against the door with his shoulder.
"Are you kidding me? We're locked in again?" Helga snapped.
He gave the door another good shove before saying bluntly, "Yep."
Helga shouted through the door, "Seriously, Hettie? The same thing your boyfriend did? How about a little originality! Is that too much to ask?"
"Well at least it's not smoke this time," Arnold said. "Someone will come soon, the sprinklers will set off the fire alarm—" A distant electronic screeching started beyond the door. "See?"
"Whoopee." Helga kicked the chair Hettie had left. "Aw, man, and our cutout creepers are getting ruined! Hettie, you freakin' little twerp..."
Arnold sat in front of the door, leaning back against it. Helga paced angrily, water seeping through her hair and darkening the pink and gray shirt she was wearing. On her third pass her hand was grabbed and before she could do anything he had yanked her down beside him. Her pants immediately soaked up the water pooling on the linoleum.
"What's the big idea?" she demanded hotly.
"It'll be a while before they figure out what set the alarm off. Might as well get comfortable," he said.
She groaned and leaned back against the door, angrily pushing wet hair from her face. "You know, I think she's been trying to kill me all day. Weird things have been falling on me, or tripping me, that shouldn't be able to move by themselves. Then the scissors, and now this. What the hell did I ever do to her?"
"Besides assisting in the destruction of her boyfriend's campaign and humiliating him in front of the whole school?"
Helga turned to him. "You think she’s doing this as revenge for you being elected over Eugene and Curly?"
"Probably. Look on the bright side: at least this time we don’t have to be anywhere anytime soon.”
She groaned again. They sat in silence for a while, watching the water slide between wadded up toilet paper and questionable stains toward the drain in the center of the room, while the fluorescent light flickered overhead. In the hallway behind them, the fire alarm stopped whining. Helga sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, careful not to touch the boy next to her. But it was different being locked up with him this time, because she didn't have the intense desire to run away or die on the spot. She reminded herself yet again that it was ok to be in love and she tried, very slowly, to ease up and casually bump shoulders with him. That was normal, right? Friends did that, right? She had barely made contact when he suddenly turned to her and she stiffened up again.
"Are you looking forward to the dance tomorrow?" he asked. Honestly, she was surprised it had taken him so long to say something. He was usually Mr. Chatterbox.
"Sure, I guess. Then I'm really looking forward to not being on this dumb committee anymore," she said.
"Are you? I'm not."
"Pfft, yes you are. You're going crazy with basketball and being president and detention and school. You'll be giddy when you won’t have all this to worry about on top of all that."
"True, it will be easier to handle my life. But it's been kind of fun, don't you think?"
"If by 'fun' you mean grueling and heinous, then, yeah."
He looked unbothered by the gross bathroom, or the sprinklers, or her annoyance. The water had caused his usually wildly disheveled hair to fall and his blue flannel shirt to darken. "Whatever, I know you got a kick out of putting up all those creepy decorations in the gym. You even went the extra mile and put some up in here, too. And you love bossing people around."
She gave a slight smile. "Yeah, all right. Halloween is the best time of year. You get to be creepy without consequences and you get free stuff. What's not to love?"
He smiled back. "Right. And won't you miss not spending time with some of the people on this committee?” Then he lifted a hand and she watched in what felt like slow motion as he tucked a strand of her wet hair behind her ear. "I will."
Her brain immediately fritzed out. Her cheek burned where his fingers had brushed, and he was looking at her funny. Like, really intensely. And it didn't help that the flickering light was casting deep shadows on his face, bringing out the dark greens of his eyes, glistening on the droplets of water sliding down his cheek and neck.
As if from outside of her body, she realized she should probably respond, and so heard herself say lamely, "I dunno, I might, maybe..."
He mimicked her posture, wrapping his arms around his knees, close enough that his hand was positioned so his fingers were against hers. It wasn’t the same as when he had held her hand in the dark under the stage. That had felt like a necessity in the moment. This felt like a stray piece of daydream gone wild. His fingers intertwined with hers the tiniest amount. His skin was cool and slick with water, making it difficult to tell where her hand ended and his began.
"Oh? Who would you miss?" he asked, leaning toward her slightly so their shoulders were pushed together.
Again as if from outside her body, she knew he was looking for an answer. She was terrified of answering. If she did, she knew she would tell the truth.
Like a manic mantra, Lila and Patty's combined voices popped into her head: it's ok to be in love it's ok to be in love it's ok to be in love don't spaz out you absolute animal it won't kill you
She heard herself start, "I might...miss you..."
His face was so close it was hard to focus on but she thought she saw the most confusing, smallest upturn of a smile on his lips. She couldn't be sure, because right then they both fell backwards, smacking their heads on the floor.
Helga looked up from the hallway floor at Nadine, who held the door open, seemingly as surprised as they were. "What were you guys doing in there?" she asked.
Arnold grumbled, "Not again," but Helga shot up like a rocket and said rapidly, "We were using the porcelain, ya know, the usual, no biggy, just hangin' out, me and Arnold, in the boys bathroom…Hettie locked us in."
Nadine looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Oh. There's no fire?"
"Nope, no sparks in there. Not at all. Yep, so, anyway, better head back to the gym. You should probably get someone to turn off those sprinklers." Helga passed Nadine, leaving a little trail of water behind her.
Nadine looked at Arnold, who said, "You couldn't have waited five minutes?"
"Uh…sorry?" Nadine replied.
Helga was aware of Arnold beside her as she walked back into the gym, where a couple kids were standing around, wondering if there really was a fire in the building. Helga was dripping water, she realized, but before she could worry about that she had to explain to her brain what had just happened with a reasonable explanation or figure out if this was a dream. It looked like the zombie horses had been disassembled again—so maybe it was a nightmare.
Then a loud crash from the balcony and ear splitting scream shook her back to reality. She hurried to the stairs up to the balcony, Arnold one step ahead of her.
They reached the balcony to see Rhonda on the ground, being fanned by Ashlee and Harold. She lay directly opposite the haunted house that now lay collapsed in a pile of walls and lights. A few woodshop kids stood around the edges, pulling at their hair and weeping. Mark, with his watches and coffee, was rocking back and forth on the ground. Helga knew it was a bad idea for both her and Arnold to leave the gym—clearly everything and everyone had lost it.
Gerald and Moze stood near the collapsed house. Gerald called to them, "Where have you guys been—why are you soaking wet?”
"Yikes, you ok?" Moze asked.
"We're fine," Helga said.
Arnold was gaping at the pile of all his hard work gone to waste. "What happened to the house? Did anyone get hurt?"
"No, everyone was out of it. We finished it up like twenty minutes ago," Gerald answered. "As far as we can tell, the walls simply fell over."
Arnold frowned."That doesn't make sense. My design was completely sound, it shouldn't have fallen over for any reason…"
He trailed off as Hettie stepped from behind the pile of plywood. "I found the problem!" She announced to the surrounding students. "The support beams weren't properly nailed in. Well, at least we know who to blame—Arnold insisted on doing the support beams himself."
Rhonda gasped and sprung to her feet, rounding on Arnold. "You!" she screeched.
Arnold shook his head, eyes wide. "They were perfectly sturdy when I put them in!"
Hettie stepped over the plywood as Rhonda began ranting, mostly to herself, about how the entire dance was going to be a complete disaster and how they would never get finished in time and no one would even bother coming, anyway. She broke down a little bit at the end and cried, shrugging off her friends and boyfriend when they tried to comfort her.
Hettie walked straight toward the stairs, pausing in front of the wet Helga and Arnold. She put out her hand and dropped a handful of metal nails at their feet. "That was for my darling Thaddeus," she said. Then she went down the stairs and left the gym.
"She," Helga said, "is as psychopathic as her boyfriend. They deserve each other."
"Let's never be left alone with either of them again," Arnold said.
"Agreed."
Chapter 9: Off With His Head
Chapter Text
Barf. That's what Helga wanted to do. Barf in a box, put that box inside a bigger box, and mail it to her sister, because right now Olga was being soooo annoying.
Helga lay on her bed with her mother’s phone lying on her chest, Olga’s voice coming over the speaker. Miriam had brought the phone in a few minutes ago and shoved it in Helga’s hand before Helga could refuse talking to her older sister. Now she flipped through a magazine, responding with the occasional “Uh-huh,” as Olga rambled on and on about how her baby sister was going on a date, how Helga should be coy but not too coy, sweet but not too sweet, and how she shouldn't worry about a big engagement ring because it really was possible to live on love! Helga assured her she would never settle for anything less than a 24 carat diamond.
The subject of Helga’s date with Moze had been an annoying topic brought up in the Pataki household several times that week and Helga deeply regretted telling anyone about it. She hadn’t expected anyone to care, but Miriam had called Olga earlier that week and told her all about the date and the dance, gushing about how handsome Moze was. Olga had demanded pictures, and Miriam had gone through Helga’s bookshelf while she was at school to find a yearbook. Big Bob had laughed his head off when Miriam had told him, then become confused, then thought it was a waste of time from Helga’s focusing on sports, and then, hearing that it was with Carlos Moze, ex-captain of the Eagles, Bob had suddenly been in support of it. He had said, "Have fun, and all that," forked over some money for her costume, and then had proceeded to forget all about it.
"Oh, Helga, romance is such a magical thing!" Olga was saying in her breathy voice. "I get all fluttery thinking about how happy you'll be! Oh, my baby sister, you're so grown up…" She sniffed.
"Yep. And just think how much older you are, Olga. Gray hair is only days away," Helga said, flipping a page of the magazine.
"Helga, you simply must send me pictures! Oh, I bet you'll look so beautiful!"
"Uh-huh. It's the fake blood, really. Can't keep the boys away from it."
Olga gasped. "You know what we simply must do? We must go on a double date!"
Helga gagged. "What?"
"Yes, the next time Danny and I come to visit, we must take time to go out all together! Ooh, wouldn't that be lovely? And perhaps Mummy and Daddy would like to come as well! A triple date!"
Helga could see it now: stuck in a stuffy restaurant with Moze, Olga and Danny, and her parents. It would be a lovely time, with insipid chatter filling the air, and halfway through the second course Helga would excuse herself to the loo, where she would promptly drown herself.
“Olga, it’s one date. I’m not marrying this guy, you know, so it’s not like I can exactly subject him to torture for no good reason,” Helga said.
Olga was not listening. Her voice sounded further away when she said, "Danny, what do you think? When we visit home next, wouldn't it be lovely to go on a double date with Helga and her little gentleman friend?"
In the distance Helga heard Danny answer, "That sounds delightful, sunflower."
Helga rolled her eyes at her sister and brother-in-law. Danny was a decent guy, but god Olga and him could make anyone in a six mile radius constipated from all their sincere cheese. There were certain members of his family that Helga couldn't stand, but hey, she supposed that was how in-laws went. Besides, Olga had her share of troublemakers in the family herself.
Olga said in a baby voice then, "What's that, Jr.? You want to talk wif your Auntie? Helga, Jr. would like to talk to you, wouldn't you, sweetie?" Then the two-year-old was put on the line, and Olga tried to encourage him to say something.
Helga said absently to her nephew, "Hey, kiddo, what's happening? You getting a handle on that whole potty-training thing yet? Yes, no? How about that whole walking thing? You stop flopping around like a chubby noodle?"
The other line was quiet, and Olga whispered, "Say hi! Go on!"
Finally, Danny Jr. said very shyly, "Hi, ‘Ega..."
Helga smiled and was glad Olga couldn't see how sappy it probably looked. "Hi, kid."
Olga got back on the phone then. "Now he's embarrassed. Isn't he the sweetest? You just wuv your Auntie Helga, don't you? Helga, he did the cutest thing the other day, you should have seen!"
Helga listened to about the first five seconds of the story before standing up, walking to the kitchen, and setting the phone beside her mother, who was chopping strawberries at the counter. "Here, Miriam."
Miriam took the phone and listened to the rest of the story, and by the time Helga reached her room, she heard Miriam gasp, "Oh, how adorable!"
Helga didn't feel bad about missing out. She knew her nephew was pretty great as far as people who still poop in diapers went, but she didn't care to hear Olga reiterate one of those stories that was only cute to the parents (and grandparents) of the kid. She had already spent the first twenty minutes of her conversation with Olga hearing about the pre-preschool program Olga was implementing with Jr., which was a student led curriculum that would introduce him to classical musicians and teach him to read before all the other kids, and blah, blah, blah. Everyone else in the family already thought he was some kind of prodigy, so apparently he had to be raised with weird hippie ideals. Helga didn't get why Jr. couldn't just be a kid and learn to read when he was supposed to, but whatever. It wasn’t her kid. As the only aunt, it was only Helga’s job to sneak him candy under the table when he came to visit and laugh when his sugar high bamboozled his parents.
It was three forty five in the afternoon on Saturday, and Helga supposed she should start switching gears from lazing around watching TV, to getting ready for the dance. Moze was supposed to pick her up at six o'clock so they could have plenty of time to pick up her other friends, grab some grub, and drive across town to the dance.
She wandered over to her closet, debating whether or not she cared enough to curl her hair. It was her first date, so she wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to do. Fix her cuticles? Wax her legs? Bathe in yummy smelling oils? It was only Moze, and she doubted he cared if she Barbied herself, but she didn't want to embarrass him by looking dumb, either. Besides, Arnold will be there.
She immediately shook her head, trying to shake the gentle green-eyed boy out of her thoughts. It had been a weird couple weeks with him recently—moments that floated around her head, taking up more space than they should, rent free. Strange moments. Like him dripping with water, looking at her so intently she was breathless. Him touching her so softly. She shook her head again, and then for good measure, she shook out her whole body.
It’s the proximity, she told herself. She had been at his school for almost two months now, had him back in her life for barely six and a half weeks, been considered herself his friend for even less time than that. For only two weeks had she been facing the fact that she loved him as much as she ever had, and even, sorta, had begun accepting unrequited love as not being so bad. So if there were weird moments where he told her to come to his home when she needed someone and moments he didn’t get freaked out if she accidentally tried to kiss him and moments he touched her cheek and her hand when they were locked in a smelly dark bathroom with a fire alarm blaring—well, if those moments felt confusing, it was because Helga wasn’t used to him. In time she would be desensitized to his friendly touchy-feely intense-eye stares, like most everyone else at school must already be.
Until then, she’d have to settle for physically shaking him out of her head now and then. Or maybe she should start charging. No more freeloading; if fantasy Arnold wanted to be in her head, he would have to start forking over some serious cash.
Looking in the mirror hanging on the closet door, Helga fingered her long straight hair. If she was going to curl it, she would have to ask for her mother's help. Miriam would probably be ecstatic, and all Helga would have to do is make sure she didn't get distracted and accidentally burn off Helga's ears off with the curling iron.
She leafed through her clothes for her costume. It was a blue dress that fell to her knees, with white lace poking out the bottom and a little white apron. Moze had the idea to go as Alice and the White Rabbit, which Helga had only agreed to so long as she could be un-dead Alice who had escaped from an insane asylum. Moze had given her a weird look but told her she could be whatever she wanted. So Helga had taken scissors to the skirt, tearing it up and making it raggedy, then added fake and bloody hand prints to the apron. The result looked pretty boss, if she said so herself.
As she pulled the dress out of the closet, a box on the ground beneath it caught her eye. The lid read, "Helga's stuff—KEEP OUT." Inside, pictures and candles and various items from her childhood shrine were protected from dust. She smiled at the box fondly, then glanced at the clock; yeah, she had time.
She draped the costume over her desk chair and pulled the box from the closet. It was heavier than she remembered, and she dropped it with a thud in the middle of the carpet. Sitting beside it, she blew dust from the lid and popped it open. Inside was a framed picture of Arnold from seventh grade—the last picture she’d gotten from Phoebe’s yearbooks before she had sealed the shrine away. What a baby he was—his cheeks were rounder, and he’d had a bad haircut before picture day apparently. She lifted the picture out, chuckling at the thirteen year old’s awkward smile, and placed it on the carpet along with several candles that were burnt to stubs, and a copy of the Gerald and the King’s EP she had borrowed from Phoebe and never returned.
Left in the box were stacks of journals. She pulled a few out, running a hand over the well worn covers. She hadn't looked at these in years, nor had she added to their numbers. At age thirteen, she had put the journals and the shrine items in the box and hadn't opened them since. They had been so full of hope and love that she hadn't been able to handle looking at them.
She didn't think about what she was looking now; she had simply pulled the box down on a whim, but for some reason the little journals didn't bother her anymore. She opened one and laughed at the ridiculous poetry within. She searched through the box and found the oldest book and flipped through the pages.
"Oh, man, " she groaned at her nine-year-old self as she read:
Arnold, you idiot,
I've always sworn it
I've always loved you
My darling, my darling.
Kiss me, my darling,
Oh so shamed, my Prometheus,
Wandering the dismal deserts of my tormented soul.
And that was one of the better ones. Wow. Most of them were terrible. These weren't all of the journals, either—years ago her mother had burned volumes one-through-fourteen, and now Helga was grateful. She was pretty sure the poetry from her early elementary years would be horrific. A week ago, she had been shocked to learn that there was one old journal still in existence, sitting on a high shelf in Arnold's bedroom. He didn’t know she was the author, thank every god of heaven and hell for that, and she really hoped that he would never again open it because he would probably die from cringing.
She rifled through a few more journals. The more recent they were, the more the entries began changing. If the early poetry had been pathetic and pining before, it only got worse after she had moved away. For example, one from fifth grade read:
The salt of the earth has become tasteless
The heavenly stars have lost their shine
These graffiti strewn streets are colorless
Without that sweet football head of mine.
The last entry in the last journal wasn't even prose. The handwriting was sloppier than the careful curly-cues that had come before, and nearly illegible. There was no date at the top of the page, but Helga remembered exactly when she had written it—the day she had sealed all of these away; the last time she had seen Arnold from a distance in the park.
A heavy feeling seeped off the page and into the room as she read: True love only happens once in a lifetime, and when it's over, all you're left with is a bunch of shredded heart bits on the floor. My true love has moved on. I can't really blame him; I wasn't his true love. I guess that's fine, because at least he won't feel sad when he never sees me again. All that's left for me to do now is move on. I used to think life wasn't worth living without him, but maybe it is, and maybe I can. Eventually I will forget him, and then my stupid heart will stop aching so much. I'm never doing this again. Love is not worth it.
Sheesh. It was a little alarming to remember how devastated she had been over a boy back then, but hey, she had never claimed that she wasn't a drama queen. She closed the book and lay on the ground with her diaries around her, thinking back over the last few years.
She had done a decent job of moving on, she thought—in her day to day life she had stopped seeing his head in the clouds and his face in the ripples on water. She had made new friends and done new things. But she had also lied to herself for a long time. She had thought that his absence in the random shapes of the world around her meant that she was over him, so she had allowed herself the guilty pleasure of asking about him whenever she talked to Phoebe, or listening to his band's CD over and over. She had told herself that there was no harm in knowing what a childhood sweetheart was up to. Besides, it wasn't like she would ever see him again, so it didn't matter.
Thinking about it now, she realized that rather than getting over him, her love had only changed. It had grown up.
Her obsession had ebbed, true, but he had still been a big influence in her life and she had developed an attitude of "What would Arnold do?" With that thought echoing in the back of her mind, she had found herself softening. The defensive, desperate armor she had worn as a neglected child had turned into that of a world-worn, but nevertheless strong young woman. At least that's how she liked to think of herself. Because of him, she had worked hard to be a better person—how could her love for him not have grown because of that? Damn. He was just too great. He could even get girls who were separated from him for years to fall deeper in love with him.
Now the unimaginable had happened—he was in her life again, larger than life. All because a freak accident had incinerated her old school. How was that for clandestine? And although Helga had panicked at first and been afraid of everything knowing him again could mean, she was getting used to it now. She would survive living parallel to him. Arnold would live his life, and Helga would silently support and love him. She would be his friend, and she would never tell him that she loved him. Or she would. Or wouldn't. It didn't matter—either way, it was ok.
Taking the Gerald and the King’s album, she popped the CD out and put it in her stereo. The first song started playing, My Jolly Olly Girl. On the chorus, Arnold’s voice came through the speakers to join Gerald’s low voice, “Sweet as summer she’s got me on the street, can’t beat the heat, she’s my favorite treat…”
The easy beats filled her room while she wandered over to her desk, fishing around in the drawer for a pen. When she pulled one out, stuck to the cap of it was a small pink bracelet with I Heart Arnold beads from the student council elections. She smiled at the bracelet and put it on her wrist before lying on her stomach on the carpet and opening a journal. She flipped to the very last entry, the one about broken hearts and love being a crap-fest. On the next page she wrote the current date and a simple haiku:
Love is not to take
But to give; do you hear it?
Music fills my heart
She rested her chin on the book, balancing the pen between her upper lip and nose. The October sun filtered through the window and landed on her back, warming her all the way through. Her eyes closed momentarily and her reserves melted away in the sunlight. For the first time in a long time she didn't feel confused or anxious—she couldn't wait to see Arnold.
Behind the elegantly decorated long victorian dining tables, Arnold stood in the G-wing gym, mechanically filling and refilling plastic goblets with punch. Ashlee sat in a chair a couple feet away in a Charlie's Angel costume, while Jason, her nerdy stalker, tried to chat her up dressed as Zorro. Music echoed in the room around them, while different colored lights flashed. The DJ stood on the stage, dressed as Batman, and every time he announced the next song he did it in the lowest, most gravely voice he could manage. Groups of students in wild costumes walked by laughing, and masses of kids were on the dance floor, all bouncing up and down to the beat. Occasionally a scream would hover in the air from the direction of the haunted house on the balcony, or a happy shriek would sound when someone was startled by the skeleton’s popping up in the graveyard. Every once in a while someone would break from the crowd and head over to the food tables to chow down on pumpkin pasties, brain shaped jell-o, punch with dry ice, and various other festive foods.
Arnold was glad that he finally had something to do. He had been there since four-thirty per Rhonda's orders, but the dance didn't start until seven, and no one had shown up until almost eight. For three hours he had been sitting around, drumming his fingers, bored out of his mind, and he couldn't even express how happy he was when the first students started coming in.
It was even better that it was a Halloween dance, because then, at least, he was having fun looking at all the costumes. He could see Sid and Stinky across the hall with a couple girls. Sid was in his red boots and was dressed like Danny Zuko, and Stinky was a pale vampire in a button down shirt. When the light hit him he sparkled. A handful of girls stood with them, most of them trying to get Stinky's attention, while Sid tried to flirt with any of them who looked at him twice.
There were a million different costumes—Wolfgang had come in dressed like Bane and was now trying to mess with the Batman-DJ; Torvald had come as himself; Eugene was Ronald Weasley and the handsome boy with him seemed to be a male Hermione; a Junior couple was Mr. and Mrs. Pacman; Big Gino and his girlfriend, Katrinka, were James Bond and Moneypenny; some Senior was Morpheus from the Matrix; a small group of zombies shuffled back and forth moaning; Nadine was dancing with Peapod Kid, dressed as Thumbelina and the Beetle; three freshmen were a combined, long Chinese dragon; the Joker and Harley were bouncing around causing trouble; and there were about a dozen Disney princesses wandering around. The Halloween world was pretty well represented by the student body, Arnold thought, and it seemed like everyone was enjoying the decorations and activities, much to Rhonda's delight.
Rhonda herself fluttered back and forth across the gym, welcoming people and making sure that the activities were to everyone's liking. Arnold was pretty impressed that she got around so fast, considering she was wearing a seventeenth century lacy hoop skirt and a tall, black wig. Harold followed around behind her in his high collar and ascot, eating spider shaped cookies. The couple swept past the food table every now and again, Rhonda waving her fan at them and asking if everything was going ok. Ashlee would file her nails and ignore her, so Arnold would tell Rhonda they were fine and give Harold another cookie.
Gerald and Phoebe arrived and wandered over a little after nine o'clock, dressed like Han Solo and Princess Leia, with their arms around each other and laughing loudly.
"Hey, guys, how's your night so far?" Arnold asked.
Gerald cleared his throat and said in his best Harrison Ford impersonation, "Uh, everything's under control here. Situation normal."
"...Ok. Where'd you guys go for dinner?" Arnold tried again.
"Uh, we had a slight weapons malfunction, but uh... everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?"
Phoebe put a hand over her mouth to muffle her voice, "We're sending a squad up."
"Uh, negative, negative! We had a reactor leak here now. Give us a few minutes to lock it down. Large leak, very dangerous."
They continued quoting Star Wars, and ended with some high pitched gun noises and then more laughter.
Arnold watched them reenact the scene with a sardonic expression before saying, "Glad you're enjoying yourselves."
Gerald took two goblets and handed one to Phoebe. "I have to tell you, this dance is off the wall," he said.
"It's true," Phoebe agreed. "I have to say it's the most well put together dance I've been to at this school. Who made the Roman Gothic chandeliers that they've hung over all the tables?"
"Those were Nadine and me," Arnold said. "Although they were Rhonda's idea last minute last night."
"She certainly has an eye for design," Phoebe said.
"I'll say," Gerald said. "Arnold, you seriously pulled it off. When I went home last night I thought it looked pretty good, but it's even better today. I mean, the jack-o-lanterns in the front hall legitimately look like they're floating, and the cemetery is a hoot to wander through. And everyone here looks awesome, though not as awesome as we do, am I right, your Worshipfulness?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Phoebe who giggled. Gerald continued, “Except R.J. Have you seen him, Arnold? He's supposed to be Sherlock Holmes or something. Pfft. I think it was just the most pretentious costume he could come up with. I still think you should have come as Luke Skywalker and matched us, Arnold."
"As if I'm not enough of a third wheel already," Arnold said.
"I like what you're wearing, though." Phoebe said.
"Yeah?" Arnold looked down at himself. "It was kind of last minute."
His costume was actually entirely last minute. He was wearing an white button up shirt, a purple vest, an argyle green scarf hanging loose, his grandfather's long black trench coat and pocket watch, and a black tophat with an Ace card stuck in the ribbon. If it had been left up to Arnold, he would have come as a basic zombie or clown or something, since he had been more focused on planning decorations than he had been on a costume. His grandmother, however, apparently had different plans. Before he’d left the house, he had seen her put on a big red dress and crown, dress Iva in a little purple cat costume, and had chased Ernie around, trying to put a pair of bunny ears on him. She had caught Arnold before he had gone out the door and handed him the costume and top hat, saying, "How's a raven like a writing desk? Do tell, Hatter, or off with your head!"
"You're a bold man, Arnold," Gerald said, lifting his goblet to him. "Way to stake your claim."
"What do you mean?" Arnold asked.
"Didn't you dress like that because Helga came as Alice and Moze is the White Rabbit?"
"They what ? How do you know? Are they here?" Arnold had been watching for them, but he hadn't seen them come in.
Phoebe said, "They came in about twenty minutes ago. We passed them talking to some of Moze's Senior friends on our way over here."
"This," Gerald said proudly, pulling on Arnold's vest lapel. "Is exactly what I'm talking about, though. To me, this costume says, 'Back off, man! Dat's my girl!'"
"You do look very nice," Phoebe agreed, munching on a pumpkin pasty.
"Except you don't seem happy about this," Gerald said. "What's the problem?"
"I didn't do this on purpose," Arnold admitted. "I didn't even know what they were coming as. Dang, now it might be awkward…I don't want to embarrass them. What should I do, change?"
Gerald rolled his eyes. "You can't chicken out now! Don't worry, it'll only be awkward for you."
"Great."
Gerald punched his arm. "Come on, take advantage of the situation—lay some groundwork, since you completely failed yesterday."
"Hey, I didn't completely fail! But what am I supposed to do while she's on a date? They'll both think I'm a jerk if I come on to her. No, I just want her to have a good time tonight. I'll worry about 'laying groundwork' later."
"Mm-mm-mm!" Gerald shook his head. "All right, man. But just so you know, that's exactly the kind of attitude that won't get you the girl. If you really want her, you have to try to get her all the time, not only when it's convenient."
"He might be right, Arnold," Phoebe said. "One night is all it takes for a boy to sweep a girl off her feet. What would you do if that night was tonight?"
Arnold didn’t miss Phoebe smiling at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. They were both egging him on, but he hated to admit it was working. He felt a renewed scratch of annoyance thinking about Moze sweeping Helga off her feet.
"Better make your decision quick," Gerald said, pointing. "Alice and the White Rabbit are headed this way."
Arnold turned. Moze's tall figure led the way through the crowd in a burgundy suit with coattails, the upper half of his face covered by a white mask with long ears sticking straight up. The lofty heights of Lenny and Teri followed, and as they came closer the two blonde girls with them became visible.
Arnold's gaze slid immediately toward the girl walking beside the White Rabbit. She was in a raggedy blue dress and apron with fake blood splattered on it, torn mesh tights and black boots. Her hair was curled and ratted and separated into two low pigtails that fell over her shoulders. Dark eyeshadow around her eyes gave them a sunken-in look and made her blue eyes brighter, and a splatter of fake blood was on her cheek and one side of her bottom lip. She looked gory and beautiful and she must have been in a good mood because she was carrying herself tall and proud.
Dang it. She wasn't supposed to be in a good mood with Moze, she was supposed to be miserable.
Lenny, in a gangly cosplay of Luigi, hurried to the table first, quickly grabbing a plate and loading it up with sweets. "What's up, bro?" he said to Arnold as he passed. "Gerald, Phoebe." He tipped his green hat to them, crumbs already stuck in his false mustache.
The other four reached the table a minute later. Teri and Agatha were in matching Chinese robes, Teri in a white that was stark against his dark skin, and Agatha in black that made her pale skin and white hair stand out. When Gerald asked what they were supposed to be, Teri said, "To every Yin, there's his Yang."
"Nice buns, Phebes," Helga said, patting Phoebe’s twisted Leia hair.
"Thanks. I like your hair, too," Phoebe replied.
"Yeah? It turned out ok. Except for this bit," Helga held up a lock of hair that was shorter than the rest. "Should have known better than to ask Miriam for help. She got distracted and burned it clean off. It made her so ridiculously happy, though."
"So," Moze said, picking up a goblet of punch. "We finally did it! We actually pulled off this dance. It looks pretty damn good, if you ask me. To us!" He held his cup up in a toast and everyone followed suit, except Arnold, who watched Moze knock his cup against Helga's before knocking it back.
"This dance is pretty awesome," Teri agreed. "You should see the line for your haunted house, Arnold. There's, like, a twenty five minute wait to get in. You wanna go, Aggie?"
Agatha shook her head vigorously.
Helga turned to Arnold and said, "Looks like you did something right, football head.”
"Thanks," Arnold replied.
Helga paused, her cup halfway to her lips. She looked him up and down. "Are you…the Mad Hatter?"
"Uh..." Arnold cleared his throat.
"He certainly is. Isn’t he the hottest Mad Hatter you’ve ever seen?" Gerald said. Arnold glared at him.
Moze pulled his rabbit mask up and rested it on the top of his head to see better. "Oh, hey, you are the Hatter. You stalkin' us or something?"
Arnold shook his head. "No, it was an accident! I didn't know what you guys were coming as, my Grandma stuck me in this, it's really a coincidence."
"Your Grandma did?" Helga asked and Arnold nodded. She gave him a funny look and muttered, "How does she always know?"
"Know what?" he asked.
"Nothing." She looked away, taking a sip of her drink.
"No worries," Moze said. "The more the merrier! Right, Helga?"
Helga shrugged. "Why not? This loony night wouldn't be complete without a little extra madness."
The song playing switched and Gerald said, "I love this song! Care to dance, Phoebe?"
Phoebe downed the rest of her drink and smacked the goblet on the table. "Let's do this."
The couple moved towards the dance floor, and once Gerald was behind Helga and Moze, he pointed at Helga, then at Arnold, then at Helga. Arnold gave a quick jerk of his head to wave Gerald away.
"The night ‘tis young, friends!" Teri said, taking Agatha's arm. "Let us dance 'til dawn!"
"All right!" Moze followed after them, but Arnold saw Helga hesitate a moment. She turned to him and looked him up and down with a smirk. His heart sped up under her gaze.
"Nice fit, Chuck," she said. "I’d say the Hatter is a dweeb, but you pull it off."
He snorted and opened his mouth to retort, but right then Lenny lunged over the table and grabbed him by the front of the shirt. "Mama-mia! Arnold, who is that mega fine lady over there?"
Arnold followed his gaze to see Sheena, tall and lanky, picking out a cauldron cake while dressed like an elf from Lord of the Rings.
"You mean Sheena?" Arnold asked.
"Sheena," Lenny gripped his heart. "Man, I love me a taaaall woman!"
"Well, go talk to her," Arnold said, pulling Lenny's hands off and pushing him toward Sheena. He turned back to Helga only to see her walking beside Moze into the dancing crowd. He felt a scratch of annoyance again.
Arnold sighed. It was going to be a long night.
Helga was actually having a great time. The night seemed to be flying by—Moze had picked her up from home, announcing, "We're late, we're late, for a very important date!" and making Miriam laugh like it was the funniest thing she'd heard all year. Then they had picked up the others in Moze’s car and headed to a Mexican restaurant that Teri loved—Moze had paid so Helga had eaten as many tacos as she wanted.
Other than a brief encounter with Curly and Hettie (a 1920s gangster and flapper girl) who tried to "accidentally" lock Helga in the prop coffin when her group was taking pictures, she was having a pretty fun time. She was genuinely enjoying herself, dancing around with her friends. Moze was a terrible dancer, which made it all the more fun for Helga, because then she got the added pleasure of teasing him for it.
They hadn't seen Lenny in a while—he had wandered away, saying something about tall elf princesses. Teri and Agatha had started the night out with them, but then Teri got really excited about bobbing for apples, so Agatha had drifted along after him. Gerald and Phoebe hung around with Moze and her, speaking in Star Wars quotes every few minutes. Around ten-forty-five, Phoebe and Helga slunk away to the bathroom, and Phoebe said to Gerald as she left, "I love you," and he replied very seriously, "I know."
In the bathroom, Phoebe sighed blissfully in that way Helga had always thought was cute. "This is so much fun, don't you think, Helga? Everything is so perfect: the music, the decorations, the food, the boys...Don't you think the food is delicious?"
"Meh, I guess it's fine," Helga said, shaking water from her hands at the sink. She kept an eye on the door, just in case Hettie or Curly showed up with any malicious intent.
Phoebe gave her a sidelong glance. "Only fine? Goodness, with how many times you've been over to the snack tables, one would think you had the biggest sweet-tooth in school. Perhaps the sweets you're really looking for aren't necessarily edible?"
Helga raised an eyebrow down at her. "Watch yourself, Princess."
Phoebe giggled.
It was true, Helga visited the food tables pretty much every fifteen minutes. She couldn't help it, she got munchy and thirsty really often. Besides, it was a very convenient excuse for when she wanted to see Arnold. Which was all the time.
She had to admit, that was part of the reason she was having such a nice time. It was so easy to pop over with a quick "No time to say hello, goodbye, football head, just here for some grub," or "Are you still out of chocolate frogs?" and he would roll his eyes and reply "Maybe if a certain someone hadn't eaten them all…" Then she would hang around the buffet until the song changed or Moze found her, but it wouldn't be long until she was "starving and parched" again. Food and Arnold. Basically it was a win-win.
Which was probably why she now had to make a run for the porcelain palace. Geeze.
They left the bathroom and wandered beneath the floating jack-o-lanterns in the hall back to the gym. They paused in the doorway and Helga looked over to where the snack tables were. After a moment's deliberation she said over the music, "Go on ahead, Phebes, I'll catch up in a minute."
"Where are you going?" Phoebe asked.
"Just to get a quick drink."
Phoebe gave her an uncomfortably sly glance. "I see. Off to get a tall glass of water?" she said.
"Can it, Phoebe."
Phoebe hid a smile with one of her long, droopy white sleeves. "Canning it."
Helga set out across the gym, patting a zombie horse as she passed by them and their carriage. There was no denying the pure sense of happiness she got when she rounded a tombstone and saw Arnold. It was like a light suddenly being turned on in her soul every time she reached the table where the little Mad Hatter stood.
Ha. The Mad Hatter. She had no idea how his grandmother had known, but, honestly, it was so unnerving it was kind of funny. And he looked stupid good as the Hatter. Since she had last seen him he had taken off his black overcoat and rolled up the sleeves on his white shirt. He was focused on wiping down a plastic cauldron with a rag but looked up when she came over.
"Hey," he said with a smile. "Back already?"
"Yep. What happened?" She looked down at the paper towels scattered on the black table cloth in front of him.
"Jason put too much dry ice in this thing and it boiled out all over Ashlee. She went to wash up and I sent Jason for more punch."
"Yeesh. Surrounded by idiots, that's what you are." She came around to his side of the buffet, handed him a fresh roll of paper towels from underneath, then leaned back against a table, her arms folded. She watched his hands scrub at the cauldron for a minute. "So I guess you're out of punch?"
"Your cup's right there, if that's what you're asking." He nodded toward a goblet hidden behind a vase of black roses and a bowl of gummy spiders.
Aw, he had saved it for her. Helga took it up and sipped at it with a secret smile.
“Where’s Moze?” he asked.
Helga glanced around the gym but didn’t see the tall boy in a rabbit mask. “Dunno. Probably being obnoxiously friendly somewhere. He’ll come find me when he’s done.”
“I’m sure he will,” Arnold said, scrubbing harder at the cauldron.
He was really such a nice guy, constantly looking out for everyone. She wondered if there was a way for her to help him: maybe somehow help him with presidential stuff, or maybe she could finally talk to the principal and get him out of detention. Something anonymous would be best—she was in love, sure, but that didn't mean she had to tell the whole world.
Maybe only tell him. Or not. She still hadn't decided. It was funny; there was once a time when all she ever wanted in life was to tell him how she felt. Now she felt content with things as they were. Maybe it was another sign she had grown up.
He glanced at her. "What?"
She realized she had been staring. "I was wondering, are you just wearing that top hat, or is your baseball hat under it?"
"Is that all? You know I don't wear it really anymore."
"Yeah, but every time I think of you it's still with that old hat on. Like it should be fused to your skull."
He set the rag and cauldron aside and took his hat off. Underneath it his yellow hair poked out in all directions. He leaned over and put the top hat on Helga's head. "Satisfied?"
The hat was a little too big, so it slid down to her eyebrows. She pushed it up. "Criminy, I should have known it would be massive. I suppose it has to be to fit your giant alien noggin."
Arnold chuckled. “It’s cute on you, though.”
Well, it certainly had to be illegal for him to be so hot and go around laughing like that and casually calling people cute. Very rude. “I’m reporting you to the rest of the student council for abuse of power,” she said.
“Oh, yeah? For what?” He was still smiling, like he might chuckle again.
She crossed her arms and used a hand to gesture to all of him. “This. It’s unpresidential, really.”
He gave her a confused look, but then he made good on his threat and chuckled again. “What does that mean? You don’t like my costume?”
She loved his costume. And she loved his rolled up sleeves and his low chuckle and his hat on her head.
A scream split the air, louder than others that night, causing several students in the gym to look toward the balcony, where the ominous glowing windows of the haunted house could be seen.
“Yeesh, ok, but really maybe I should report you for that ,” she said, pointing a thumb at the balcony. "If someone has a heart attack tonight I can’t see you winning a reelection."
“Yeah, that definitely wouldn’t go over well,” he agreed.
“At least you’ll always have a future as a carnie worker designing haunted houses.”
He put a hand to his chest in relief. “Oh, good. My life’s dream.”
She nodded solemnly. “Your dream of being a creepy guy who creeps kids out. Oh, and also you’ll run a haunted house.”
He chuckled again and it was genuinely infuriating. Instead of being forced to look at him anymore, she turned around as the couple from Beetlejuice approached. Stepping in front of Arnold, she asked what she could do them for. As requested, she handed them a plate of dyed-green cake and told them to come back in fifteen minutes as the punch was M.I.A. They said, “Thanks Alice and Hatter!” and walked away.
“When are you going through the haunted house?” Arnold asked when the couple left.
Helga shrugged, picking up her goblet and taking a sip of the last of the punch that had been just for her. She glanced around for Moze again, but he must be distracted to someone on the basketball team again or something. She said, “Teri and Aggie are saving us a spot in line, so whenever they get close to the door they'll call us, I guess.”
“I see.”
She narrowed her eyes when his expression became sly. “Why do you ask?”
“I just want to know what you think when you’re done," he said.
“I mean I was with you when you drew up the plans, it’s not like I’ll be surprised.”
At that he grinned and it seemed too mischievous for comfort. “You didn’t see everything.”
Now she was definitely suspicious. “Did you add something? What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
“Is it a new bug room? A chainsaw guy? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“If I told you then I couldn’t have surprised you.”
“Yeesh, so you’re finally trying to get rid of me. What is it? Ax that will swing only for my head? A bucket of blood that will get dumped on me?”
He shrugged, and leaned in conspiratorially to say, “You’ll see.”
“Well, now you really are being a creep. Are you actually mad? Does this hat have mercury on it for real? Am I being poisoned while I wear it?"
"Don't be ridiculous, of course I'm mad. We're all mad here." He widened his eyes slightly. "Besides, if I was going to poison you, I would have put it in your drink. Much easier."
She made a face at her cup and set it down like it might burn her. "Poison my tea, huh? Hmph. I curse all your future un-birthdays."
"What, no off with my head?"
"Do I look like the Queen of Hearts to you? Come on, even you should know the difference, mad man." She tugged on his scarf, only feigning annoyance. She must have pulled harder than she thought, though, because suddenly Arnold was only inches away from her. Her heart, quite literally, jumped into her throat and stopped beating. She may have stopped breathing as well, but she was too distracted to think about that.
For a moment he merely looked down at her with a distantly amused smile. The shifting dance lights over the dance floor reflected green and purple on his hair and face. Then he reached up and tugged on the rim of the top hat on her head, dipping his head to look her in the eye. He said in a much lower voice, "Too late, anyway. I've already lost my head."
She had a strong sense of deja vu—it seemed like their faces had been this close recently. But there was one thing vastly different: he was coming closer to her. And there were people around.
Didn't he know that if he didn't stop then their faces would run into each other? Not that she was trying to stop it; in fact, her hand still held tightly to his scarf, holding him close. But that was her. She always wanted to kiss him. The question was, what was he doing?
"Hey, guys…"
They turned. Moze stood a couple feet away, eyebrows raised. Arnold straightened, flipped the top hat off her head and onto his own, then turned back to the cauldron, not looking at them. Helga didn't know who to stare at more, Arnold or Moze.
Moze looked back and forth between them. "Sorry, did I…Are you turning blue, Helga?"
Oh, right. Breathing. That was important. She hit her fist quickly on her chest, making herself cough and gasp for air. She wheezed for a second before saying, "I'm good…"
Moze looked at her strangely. "Ok. Um, Teri says we should get up there for the haunted house, but if now isn't a good time…"
"Now is a great time, fabulous time, why wouldn't now be a good time?" She stepped around the table and right past Moze, not looking at him.
"All right…" Moze walked beside her, glancing back at Arnold once.
Helga didn't get the courage to look back until she was halfway across the gym, and by then Arnold was only a glimpse of a figure beyond the crowd. But she could have sworn, for only a second, that he was looking in her direction.
Oh, holy lord of all fudge muffins , she thought, her face burning, What the CRAP was that?
At eleven-thirty, Arnold sat at a round table to one side of the gym. Rhonda had swept by the snack tables a few minutes ago and told him he deserved a break, so now he was passing the time by sitting at one of the dozen round tables beneath the balcony, tossing candy corn into a cup that had been left behind by someone. Sid sat across from him, red boots on the table, trying to get more candy corn into the cup than Arnold did.
The night was indeed moving very slowly for Arnold. He had already been there six hours today, and he would probably have to stay after to help clean up. For a while he had been having a bit of fun, waiting for Helga to come back to the snack table every once in a while. But he hadn't seen her in almost an hour, and he didn't know if that was because Moze was keeping her away from him, or if she was avoiding him herself.
Crap. He was an idiot. He had probably completely embarrassed both Helga and Moze. He had come to the dance, fully intending to do his job and not be jealous of Moze at all. Even if he had an inkling that Helga liked him back, Arnold still found that seeing her laughing with Moze bothered him more than he thought it would. Every time Helga had been at the snack table, talking to him, and Moze had come by and taken her away, it had ticked Arnold off. A lot.
And then she had come back to him again and smiled that smile that was starting to haunt his dreams and he’d lost it. His body had taken over and he’d messed up big time.
Gerald and Phoebe passed the table and took seats between him and Sid, both looking happy and exhausted. Gerald put an arm on the back of Phoebe's chair and she leaned on his shoulder, yawning.
"It's been a hard day's night," Gerald said. "You two look tired. How's it going with the ladies, Sid?"
" What ladies?" Sid pouted.
"That bad, huh?"
Sid flung another candy corn, but it bounced off the cup and fell into the grinning mouth of the jack-o-lantern on the table. It started to melt in the light of the candle.
Gerald turned to Arnold. "How about you? How’s it going with the ladies?"
Arnold glared at him.
"Yeesh, someone's cranky." Gerald lowered his voice, trying to keep out of Sid's earshot, "What happened? You get in a fight with Helga, or something?"
"Worse. I tried to kiss her," Arnold said.
Gerald looked startled and Phoebe perked up. Sid kept trying angrily to get a corn in the cup, grumbling something about how annoying Stinky was.
Gerald whispered, "What, here? At the dance?"
Arnold nodded. "Then Moze showed up."
Gerald sucked in through his teeth and Phoebe said, "Oh, no…"
"Yep."
"Did he say anything?" Gerald asked.
"Nope. They both left. I haven't seen them since."
Gerald clucked his tongue and Phoebe shook her head.
"I thought you said you weren't going to make a pass at her tonight," Gerald pointed out. "What happened to, and I quote, 'I just want her to have fun'?"
"I didn't mean to. It was an accident," Arnold bemoaned.
"Right, sure. As if. You sly dog." Gerald gave him a proud pat on the shoulder.
Phoebe, who, of course, had been kept up to date on all the goings on of the last few days by Gerald, said, "You and Helga seem to always have the most unfortunate timing, Arnold."
"Tell me about it. I feel like we’re going in circles—every single time we start getting somewhere we always get interrupted, then Helga bolts off and acts like it never happened, and we're back to square one again. It's driving me crazy ." He tossed his last candy corn hard and it landed in the goblet with a splash. "Why can't she just communicate with me like a normal person?"
"Whoa, don't get mad, Hatter." Gerald was the only one that chuckled at his own joke and quickly stopped when he realized it was dumb.
"Don't be angry. It's not quite so simple for Helga," Phoebe said. "It's difficult for her to talk about her own feelings, and she might not realize how you feel. You have to be straightforward and allow her to be open."
"Yeah, good luck with that," Gerald said dryly. "The only time she's being open is when she's cussing you out."
"That's not true," Phoebe chided.
The three quit talking when Lenny approached the table and took a seat next to Sid. Lenny's cheek looked kind of red and his mustache was crooked.
"What happened to you?" Sid asked.
"Sheena," Lenny replied with a sigh. "The love of my life."
Sid shook his head. "Women. Can't live with them, yet think of nothing else and go crazy without them."
"Amen, brother," Gerald said, looking pointedly at Arnold. Arnold avoided his gaze.
"Didn't Sheena come with Iggy?" Phoebe asked.
Lenny said, "Yeah, but that's ok. I think we had a special connection. Don't worry, I'm not dissuaded so easily—I'll try again later, and then she'll see what a great catch I am." He picked up the cup from the table and took a swig, promptly choking on the candy corn. Sid laughed at him.
"What about you, Arnold?" Phoebe said. "You couldn't possibly be dissuaded so easily, could you?"
"Of course not. But there's not a whole lot I can do about it right this minute," Arnold said.
"If you had the chance to talk to her, would you?"
She was looking at him very seriously so he replied seriously, "Yeah. I would."
She nodded and leaned towards Gerald, whispering hurriedly in his ear. As he listened, Gerald's eyes slid over to Arnold. He smiled, and Arnold suddenly felt nervous.
"You got it, babe," Gerald said to Phoebe. Then he stood and announced, "I'm moving out!" He turned and set off.
Lenny, wiping the last of the spilled punch off his shirt, called out, "But your tauntaun will freeze before you reach the first marker!"
Gerald turned and pointed at Lenny, shouting back, "Then I'll see you in hell!" Then Mrs. Joy, one of the chaperons, happened by right then, caught Gerald by the ear, and warned him about using strong language at a school event.
"Where's he going?" Sid asked when Mrs. Joy set Gerald free and he disappeared.
"You'll see." Phoebe smiled round at them.
Arnold gave her a suspicious look. "What are you up to?"
Phoebe eyed him back coyly but didn't respond.
A minute later Gerald hopped on the stage and took the microphone from the Batman-DJ. He straightened his leather vest and smoothed some hair back before he made a slash mark across his throat and the DJ cut the music. The student body turned round to look at Gerald.
" Helloooo, fellow students! Are you having a good night ?" There were some cheers. " Aw, come on. Are you having a GOOD NIGHT?" Louder cheering. " All right! That's what I'm talking 'bout. Well, we are so glad that you all came out here, and we'd like to take a little minute to thank the mastermind behind tonight—Miss Rhonda Wellington Lloyd! "
Gerald pointed to where Rhonda stood on the edge of the crowd, staring up at him like "OH. MY. GOSH. WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?"
Gerald continued, " That's right, there she is! Let's give a quick round of applause, shall we ?" There was some clapping, and Rhonda waved graciously. " So, before the night's over, we'd like to move on to our last event—the dance competition! Oh, it'll be groovy! So real quick, let me just call up the judges. Oh, look, here's Mrs. Joy now !" Gerald turned as Mrs. Joy stomped on the stage, ready to drag Gerald away. Gerald quickly wrapped an arm around the woman. " The lovely Mrs. Joy. So glad you could be here. Any words ?" He held the microphone to her and she opened her mouth but he pulled it back. " No? Ok. Anyway, our other two judges are the fantastic Miss Sara Xanthe, and one of our newest students from East Side High, Mr. Carlos Mooooze! All right, let's get those two on up here !"
Gerald led the audience in another applause while Moze and a girl in a genie costume made their way to the stage. Arnold raised his eyebrows and looked at Phoebe, who shrugged innocently.
Gerald went on, " So these three judges will have the blessed opportunity of watching you all jive and boogie, and at midnight they will announce the winner! The only rules are, one: you can't dance with your date. Grab someone you don't know and pray they know what they're doing! And two: there are no rules. Dance your hearts out, people!" He turned back to the DJ, who started the music again. The crowd shuffled around as some people escaped the dance floor and others got in the spirit of competition and found a new dance partner.
"This is my chance!" Sid and Lenny said at the same time. They stood, ran into each other, and then headed off in opposite directions.
Arnold turned to Phoebe.
"Well?" she said, eyeing him. "What are you waiting for?"
"Absolutely nothing." He stood up and took his coat and hat off, handing them to Phoebe.
"Go get her!" Phoebe said with a little fist pump.
Arnold turned and walked determinedly into the crowd.
The comfort and confidence Helga had been feeling earlier in the day had completely dissipated. An hour ago she had been completely content with her situation in life for the first time in weeks, nay, years. Now, she was totally confused again. That had been a strange moment she had yet to figure out how to explain away, and Moze had witnessed it horrifically, and Helga hadn’t been able to get it together enough to go through the haunted house afraid for some reason of whatever surprise Arnold had planned. So she’d had to make up an excuse and Moze hadn’t questioned and taken her to bob for apples instead. Now her makeup was slightly runny and her stomach was still in knots. For crap's sake, Arnold. Are you trying to kill me?
"Stupid, do-goody, adorable, idiot, gonna kick your trash..." she muttered murderously.
"What did that bracelet ever do to you?" Patty said.
Helga looked down at the pink I Heart Arnold bracelet in her hands. She had accidentally worn it out of the house when Moze had picked her up, and when she had noticed she quickly slipped it into her apron pocket. As she was standing against the wall now she had absently taken it out and had been stretching it with considerable violence.
Patty stood next to her in a long pretty dress as Snow White. When Moze had been called away to be a dumb dance judge, Helga had somehow ended up near Patty and Lila (dressed as Little Red Riding Hood), but it had only been seconds before some boy wandered over and asked Lila to be his partner.
The degree of relief which Helga felt when Moze left was so great it made her feel guilty. The two of them had been pretending that nothing was awkward since he had caught her with Arnold in a suspicious situation , but in reality the air was so thick with awkwardness Helga had once choked on it. Literally.
It was so much nicer to be hanging with Patty, a silent pillar that didn't care if she muttered threats under her breath. She wasn't sure who she was threatening, Arnold, herself, or the world in general. She just felt tense. And every time the thought popped into her head, Did I hallucinate, or did Arnold try to kiss me? she practically died inside. She focused the confused and embarrassed energy into stretching out the little bracelet, but accidentally let go and sent it flying into Harold's head.
"Ow! Hey! What's the big idea?" Harold glared round at them.
"Sorry," Helga said halfheartedly.
He pouted at her before lumbering over. Patty straightened away from the wall. "Hey, Harold."
"Hey, Patty. Nice dress," Harold said.
"Thanks," Patty replied, tucking a curl behind her ear. "I like your suit. Where's your girlfriend?"
Harold shrugged. "Curly asked her to dance. Dweeb."
"Losing out to a psychopath," Helga said, ornery. "A psychopath that does ballet. You'll never live that down." She paused. "Does he still do ballet?"
Harold glared at her, but Patty ignored her and said, "Want to dance with me, Harold?"
"Yeah, all right." He held out his hand and Patty took it with a bright smile.
Helga watched the two head to the dance floor. Well, good for Patty. Besides, in her Snow White dress and his seventeenth century costume, the two almost looked like they had matched on purpose. How quaint.
Uh-oh. Speaking of matching people that weren't supposed to be matching, Arnold was pushing through the crowd straight toward her.
Crap on a stick! Ok, be cool, be cool. Whatever you do, don't scream in his face.
"Oh, football head," she said, sniffing and looking away, like he wasn't important at all. "Didn't see you there."
"Come dance with me," he said.
"Pfft, dance with—" She never got to finish, though, because he grabbed her hand and led her straight to the dance floor. He wove through the crowd, pushing through bodies of couples dancing, until he found a small nook where they could fit.
"Uhh," Helga started. She was actually not comfortable with this at all. Her heart was racing faster than the music, and she really didn't know if she could handle being so close to him right now while her brain was so stressed and confused. There was no telling what she might do.
She tried to pull her hand out of his and say over the music, "I dunno if I wanna dance with you. If you remember, the last time we danced you threw me in a pool."
His grip on her hand was firm, not letting her get away. Then to her horror and her heart’s detriment, he smoothly slid his arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him, making her stomach squirm. "Don't worry—there's no pool here,” he said.
"Oh, goody. Now I'm at ease." No. She wasn't. She was most definitely not at ease. Her palms were sweaty and her heartbeat was pounding in her ears louder than the music and damnit he was holding her.
The worst was that she recognized the look in Arnold's eyes. It was hard and serious, as if he had something on his mind and he wouldn't take no for an answer. Shit. She couldn't look away. Any second now, he would probably start reading her mind.
"So, Helga," he said as he led her in a gentle dance. "I'm sorry I almost kissed you in front of Moze."
If he hadn't been holding her so tight, she definitely would have fallen over. OH MY HOLY ROTTEN HELL, WHY. A little beating around the bush wouldn't kill you, Arnold!
But then it sunk in that he was apologizing. For almost kissing her. He admitted it, and in the same breath dismissed it as a regrettable accident.
"But, then," he continued, "you were going to kiss me back."
Luckily, her good old-fashioned defense mechanisms kicked in. She laughed in his face, and it most definitely sounded insane. "Pfft, kiss you ? Ha, yeah, maybe when hell freezes over. Your outfit must be going to your head, mad man."
For a second she thought he looked like he was annoyed, but then he said, "I know. You don't like me like that."
Oh, good, maybe the awkwardness was over for now. "Well, glad we cleared that up!" She tried to pull away, but his arm around her waist tightened.
He wasn’t much taller than her, but he might as well have been looming over her. He said with clearly-false pensiveness, "You know what that just reminded me of? All those years ago when they almost demolished our neighborhood, and we somehow ended up on top of the FTi building. Do you remember that?"
That time I confessed my love and kissed you and embarrassed the shit out of both of us? Yeah, I remember that. "Nope. Don't remember that."
"Huh. I do. I haven't thought about it in ages, but I’m pretty sure I recall you telling me you were in love with me. Isn't that funny?" He wasn't smiling.
"Oh, aha ha, yeah, hilarious!" She looked around, hoping no one around them was hearing this mortifying converstion.
"Because everyone knew you didn't like me at all," he said.
"Got that right."
"Actually, you hated me. A lot. Right?"
"Hate right, yeah, that's what it was…"
"It's all right, Helga. I know you hated me. You've only ever hated me. It's nice of you to try being friends with me now, but you don't have to. I know you hate me."
He led her in a smooth, perfect step around their tight space. It wasn’t in time to the music—they were going much slower than everyone around them.
Helga paused before answering, trying to reel in her panic. She couldn't let her fear rule her—she was past all that fake hate. Being in love was ok, and she didn't have to pass it off as anything else, she reminded herself.
"I don't hate you," she said at last.
"Yes, you do. You're like an open book—Helga Pataki: hates everyone. Doesn't ever like anyone. You haven't changed at all."
Well, that just plum pissed her off. "Hey! Hey, hey, hey! What is your problem right now?"
She was really being thrown off by pretty much everything that was happening right now. First off, the music was loud and distracting, and second, he was still really close to her. He was so close, she could smell him over the heavy musk of the rest of the crowd. He smelt good, which was making her head spin. On top of that, this whole conversation was wonky, and everything all together made her nerves very raw and jumpy and easy to snap.
She said snippily, "I like people! Hello, have you seen my friends? Oh, and, to clue you in, dumbo— you're one of them. I don't know what the hell has suddenly put you in a crappy mood, but get your panties out of a twist."
"Right, of course, sorry. I meant, you never like like anyone. It's not in your nature."
She scoffed. "I have like liked someone."
"It's ok that you haven't. Some people aren't cut out for loving. It's no big deal."
"What? I can so love, you moron! I am in love!"
"Oh, really? You're in love?"
"Yes , I'm in love."
He raised a dubious eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yes." Why was he being so annoying ?
He suddenly spun her out and around, before pulling her back. She was dizzy from the dancing and his smell and the ridiculous conversation and his hand around her waist.
He said, "That's right, of course. You're in love with Moze."
She squinted at him like he was insane. "What? Are you soft in the head? I am not in love with Moze."
"Don't be silly. It's obvious."
They had stopped dancing now and stood in the middle of the dance floor. She didn't know if she was more angry, or shocked. Was he really so dumb? "I do not love Moze."
"Sure you do," he said calmly.
"No , I don't."
"You do."
"I don't!" In the back of her head, she felt her last nerve snap in half. She put her hands on his chest and shoved him hard, finally separating herself. "I'm in love with you , idiot!"
"Ha! I knew it!" he said triumphantly.
She threw her hands up in the air. "Oh, you knew it, you knew it! Whatever!" She pointed at him angrily. "You didn't know anything! You never noticed! I used to stand outside your house for hours and you never even noticed! I used to work tooth and nail, just to get your attention, all the while you were chasing every other girl but me! I've been in love with you since the first day of preschool! You think I hated you? HA! I was a kid in elementary school! Bugging you, messing with you—that was practically me confessing my undying love! I used to creep up on your roof and watch you sleep! I used to threaten all the other kids just so I could sit next to you! I used to imagine us getting married and having kids and growing old together! For crap's sake, I even collected all your old gum and made a to-scale model of your stupid football head! I was totally gaga, flip my lid, over the top, insane about you! And you wanna know the worst part? I STILL AM. So, no , you idiot, I don't hate you, and I can love. I. Love. You!"
She paused to take a few deep breaths. Wow. That had felt...really good. That was twelve years of pent up emotion. Suddenly, she felt very drained and tired. She wiped her forehead. "Whew…"
A tap on her shoulder made her turn. She was surprised to find Mrs. Joy looking up at her with a tight smile. The teacher said, "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to ask you to quiet down or leave. You're disturbing the other dancers."
All at once the music and lights and faces swarming around came back to Helga’s attention as if a brick wall had run into her.
The crowd around them had turned at all the yelling, and everyone was staring. She looked around and saw people she recognized—Gerald, Lila, Stinky, Teri, Agatha, Eugene, Nadine, Peapod Kid, Lenny, Sheena, Sid, Moze…and a million people she didn't know. Some of them whispered to each other and pointed at her.
She looked back at Arnold. His hard expression was gone and he was staring at her with wide eyes.
She didn't panic. She wasn't embarrassed. She felt…nothing. She blinked back at him blankly.
Somewhere on the edge of the crowd, another ruckus drew attention to itself. Rhonda and Curly, who had been dancing together, had somehow found themselves kissing. Only to be seen by Hettie, of course, and then subsequently Harold. Hettie had, quite literally, tackled Rhonda, tearing at her hair and giving her a good solid punch to the nose. Rhonda had stumbled back and bumped into the snack table, where she had grabbed the cauldron of fresh punch and dumped the whole thing on Hettie's head. Meanwhile, Harold put Curly in a headlock, while Curly cackled and chewed on Harold's arm. Patty stood by, pulling on Harold's shirt, trying to get him to stop fighting. Then Hettie was knocked into her, and Patty gave her a good elbow in the gut.
The yelling and fighting and knocking over of precious food made people stop and stare, and the crowd around Helga turned at the noises. After a particularly loud crash, Arnold finally broke eye contact, and his gaze slid towards the commotion. When he looked back a second later, Helga was nowhere in sight.
Chapter 10: Picking up the Pieces
Chapter Text
Saturday night Helga left the loud music and bright lights of the dance for the dark city streets. It was bitter cold, which seemed appropriate, although Helga didn't feel it much. She didn't really think about where she was going so she simply followed her feet. They led her to the bus stop, where she caught the night bus and rode it back to East Hillwood. She was the only occupant on the bus, in the far back on the old seats, and stared out the dark window without seeing. The whole way she felt the same strange numbness as she had at the dance. Perhaps she was in shock. She made it home a little after midnight, and about fifteen minutes after that Moze knocked on the door, worried about her making it home safe. She, with surprising calm, assured him she was fine and, thankfully, he didn't stay long.
Sunday she went throughout the day as though nothing was different. She watched TV and read a couple comics and opened the fridge and stared inside it. The stupor was shattered, however, when her phone rang that night. She glanced at it, expecting it to be Phoebe or Agatha or Teri checking on her. She dropped the phone when she saw it was Arnold.
She let it ring on the floor, not daring to answer, but she did listen to the brief message that he left her: "Hey, Helga, I'm just calling to…say sorry, you know, about everything. I understand if you don't want to talk right now, so, um…I'm…" he sighed, "I'm really sorry. Yeah."
She didn't know what he was sorry about—she had been the one to blow up like a lunatic. She figured that was Arnold just being Arnold.
But the numbness that had a grip on her dissipated when the message ended and his sympathetic voice stopped.
The reality of what had happened smacked her in the face like a wet fish, so hard she ended up face down on her bed, screaming into her pillow. She prayed to the gods of puberty to please just let her die, because she really couldn't handle awkward teenage life any longer. Actually, this was beyond awkward. This was horrifically heinous and bloodcurdling. She might literally explode from the humiliation.
But the embarrassment was only the tip of the iceberg, if that was at all possible. What was really killing her was so much deeper. If it was just the embarrassment then she might have been able to get through it and focus on the fact that, amongst all of the icky feelings, there was a string of relief at having set free such a powerful secret. But what really scraped the sides of the Titanic that was her life and set it on a fatal course to the abyss was the last look she had seen on Arnold's face.
He had just stared at her with wide eyes. Like he had been afraid of her. Like she was crazy. And she knew that she had destroyed any chance of a normal friendship with him. Now that face haunted her until it was all she could see when she closed her eyes.
She didn’t sleep a wink, so on Monday she skipped school and lounged around in pajamas. She stole Miriam's secret stash of chocolate from her parents' bedroom while both were gone, and ate all of it while watching Dawn of the Dead. Miriam came home from yoga and felt Helga's forehead, and then made chicken noodle soup from a can. Big Bob came home in the evening, took one look at his "sick" daughter, and then avoided her the rest of the evening, like she might give him leprosy, while his wife sprayed the air with Lysol. Helga ignored both of them.
Tuesday was essentially the same. The only difference was, Helga began to feel…guilty.
After all her bellyaching about not regressing back to a childish sociopath, was that what she was doing? There she sat, eating TV tray dinners with her parents and watching Duck Dynasty, and feeling like she was not where she was supposed to be. She left the couch and went into her room, barely getting past the doorway before flopping on the floor to stare at nothing and rethinking her life choices.
What had happened to New Helga? What had happened to "I am Woman"? What had happened to "even if he doesn't love me back, it's ok to be in love"? What was she doing , hiding away in her house, not showering for three days, and eating junk food? Was she really gonna bottom out like every other stupid teenage girl who accidentally embarrassed herself in front of a guy? How much more pathetic could she get?
Then again, most teenage girls didn’t have a history of shrine making, stalking, and announcing their worst personality traits in front of the entire school.
As she lay on the floor her phone started ringing. She yanked on the charger cord, pulling the phone down from her dresser, and looked at it, again expecting another text or call from Phoebe or Agatha, who had both been trying to get a hold of her.
It was Arnold.
She set the phone on the ground in front of her and waited for it to stop ringing. When it did, she sighed, relieved. Then, the phone buzzed again. It was Arnold.
She stared at it with a furrowed brow but again let it go unanswered. Maybe if she stared long enough, the caller ID would change from Arnold to someone else. It didn't. He was probably calling to apologize again (for something that wasn't his fault), or ask if she was really sick, or say "it's not you, it's me." After a minute, the phone stopped ringing, but throughout the night it rang several more times.
Six times. He called her six times in a matter of two hours. Not that she was counting.
By the time Helga was crawling into bed, she had come to a conclusion: she couldn't live her life running from Arnold. Maybe he was calling to say "it's not you, it's me" but she would have to face his rejection like an adult. That's what Dr. Loveless would say. The cat was fully and violently out of the bag now, but this had to be her turning point, her mouse-or-man point. Hadn't Arnold always told her to not hide who she was and to be herself and junk like that? Well, damn it all, maybe that was what she would do. Embrace that ugly old cat, because no one else was going to do it.
When the dance had ended Saturday, Arnold had been unsure what to think.
Helga's outburst had surprised him—he had suspected she liked him, but to what extent, he had no idea. Evidently, her feelings were much stronger than he could have guessed.
Afterwards, Helga had completely disappeared from the dance. Arnold had searched through the crowd, checked the girls bathroom, and everywhere else she could have been hiding, but didn't find her. He ran into Moze and Helga's other friends but their luck in finding her wasn't any better than his, and Phoebe couldn’t get her to answer her phone. Moze eventually deduced that she must have gone home. He left the dance, planning to go to Helga's house to make sure she had at least made it safely. Phoebe had texted Arnold later that Moze confirmed Helga had, indeed, made it home fine.
Arnold spent all of Saturday night and most of Sunday trying to digest everything. There were a lot of things to think about—Helga loved him. She didn't just like like him, she really really loved him. And she had been in love with him for years. And all that stuff she had said about following him around and messing with his head and collecting his old gum… that was all a little freaky to think about.
He sat on the front stoop in his corduroy jacket and tried to think back to their childhood and decipher which of their interactions had happened because she had been in love with him. He had always thought she was different than she seemed, not so rough and tough, but how had he never noticed how different? Was he totally self absorbed and blind? He felt like an idiot for not knowing all this time how she felt.
Which brought him to his next problem: he liked her a lot, yes, but after her big confession he felt that her feelings ran much deeper than his. He didn't know how to respond to her. Did he love her? It seemed lame, calling it that, after thinking about how long Helga had loved him—as if he didn't have the right to call his feelings love when compared to hers.
And on top of all this, he knew he had completely humiliated her in front of the whole school. He had lost control as he had egged her on, trying to get her to admit that she liked him. The result was more than he had bargained for, and it made him feel like a total jerk.
Really poor planning on his part, spurred on by his jealousy and lack of self control; he should have waited until they were alone, until she wasn't on a date, until they weren't at a public function. It was his fault that she had been embarrassed, and that Moze had been embarrassed, and when someone had come up to Arnold as he was leaving the dance and said, "Hey, were you the guy that that crazy chick went all psycho at on the dance floor? Yikes, am I right, man?" it was like a blow to the stomach. It was because of him that Helga's feelings were being poked fun at, and he felt downright awful about the whole thing.
Sunday afternoon he supposed he had ruminated enough, because suddenly he was inside the house and his cell phone was in his hand and he was dialing Helga's number. He wasn't sure what he was planning to say, and it was no surprise when she didn't answer. He left a lame message that didn't even scratch the surface of how badly he needed to talk to her.
On Monday, Helga didn’t come to school. Which, of course, he knew was his fault. She was probably avoiding him, and didn't want to subject herself to the mockery of fellow students. He thought maybe this was for the best. Perhaps another day of recovery might help her, and honestly him. He still had no idea what he was going to do when he saw her.
Which was why, after school, he wondered what on earth he was doing sitting in the Packard, driving to her house. He barely made it to the end of his block before turning back. He sat in the car for an hour, trying to sort out what was going on in his head.
Eventually Phil found him, climbed in on the passenger's side, and asked him why he looked like he had just gotten hit by a bus. Arnold spilled the entire story, from finding out he liked Helga to making her confess. At the end, his grandfather threw his head back and laughed so hard he was in tears. Cheeks red, Arnold had gotten out of the car, slammed the door, and headed back inside.
Phil found him in his room later and told him, "Sometimes, Shortman, everything has to fall apart before you can put it back together. And when you do, you can put it back so it's even better than it was the first time. Are you gonna finish that sandwich?"
Tuesday, Helga still didn’t come to school.
Gerald said, "Maybe she really is out sick," and Phoebe added, "I'm certain she'll be back soon." Phoebe looked too worried herself to comfort him.
Arnold's overactive imagination was against him, as it usually was, and filled his head with a million doubts. What if she never came back? What if she was so embarrassed she transferred to another school? What if her mortification and his awful behavior made her start hating him for real and he never got the chance to explain? And, biggest of all, how would he feel if any of these happened?
These questions floated around his head enough that he had a hard time focusing at basketball practice. Coach Beezus was in a tizzy since they had a game that weekend, and he yelled at everyone (especially Arnold), getting himself so upset that he popped a blood vessel in his neck and had to go to the clinic. He had left Itchy and Moze in charge of practice, and Arnold, who had been benched by Beezus for being distracted, found himself in an uncomfortably close proximity to Moze.
Moze had given him the cold shoulder the last two days and still didn't make eye contact with him.
After working up the guts to say something, Arnold cleared his throat and said, "Moze, I'm sorry about Saturday. Things got a little out of hand, and it was my fault. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. I hope you're not mad at Helga."
Moze gave him a cool look before turning back towards the boys on the court. "I'm not mad at Helga. She said she was sorry when I saw her after the dance. We made up and made out. Guess she's my girlfriend now."
For about ten agonizingly long seconds, Arnold had thought he was serious.
Then Moze shot him a sarcastic look over his shoulder. "Just messing with you. We're not going out."
Arnold hadn't been sure if he was more angry or relieved, but either way he guessed he deserved the ribbing.
Moze continued, "Don't worry, I didn't have my sights set on Helga, or anything. We were friends, and I thought she was cool and pretty cute. I think I mostly just had my ego bruised a bit—I've never had a girl confess to another guy while I was on a date with her before. And in front of a bunch of people…Nothing to do about it now, I guess. I had a feeling you guys might have a thing for each other, anyway. Since we came to this school it’s been obvious you two had some kind of history."
Arnold hadn’t realized it would look like that to outsiders. He sort of liked that. "If I can make it up to you, Moze, just say so."
"Fantastic," Moze gave him a friendly smack on the shoulder. "Start with twenty laps. Your playing today was horrible, you need to get your head in the game, loverboy."
Arnold did as he was told, but apparently not fast enough, because halfway through Moze told him to hurry up and run an extra five laps. Maybe Moze was more pissed than he let on, but Arnold felt he had no room to complain.
Besides, Moze had done him a favor. In the brief seconds that Arnold had thought Moze and Helga had become a couple, his stomach had become so nauseous that he knew right then exactly how he felt about Helga. Forget the ins and outs of Helga being crazy and kind of scary in love with him and her angry confession and how he had been a total jerk to her and how they always fought and what everyone might think—he liked her. A lot. And he didn’t want her dating anyone but him.
He called her Tuesday night (like six times) and told himself if she wasn't back in class the next day, then he would head straight to her house after school and demand she talk to him.
Wednesday morning he sat behind Gerald in their first class, bouncing his pencil’s eraser on the desk in time to the ticking clock. It was Halloween Day, although it was so sunny outside it didn't seem like it. He looked out the window and ignored the teacher's boring rambling.
The front row was falling asleep when Gerald spun around in his seat. "Arnold, brace yourself—Helga's back in school today."
Arnold sat up. "If you're lying to me, I will hit you."
"I'm not lying, look." He showed his phone to Arnold. It was a text from Teri that read: Pataki's back today. "I told him to give me a heads up when she came back. So? What's the plan, Stan My Man?"
"No plan. This time, I'm shooting straight."
Helga had planned to go back to school and accept her fate with grace and poise. She put on makeup, she wore her coziest and most sophisticated blue fuzzy sweater and dangly pink heart earrings, and decided to skip the tennis shoes and wear her black combat boots instead. Armored appropriately, she had met Moze at the bus stop, who had glanced over his book and said, “Feeling better, Ladybird?”
“Feeling like a heel. But I’m here,” she responded.
“I’d tell you it’s all going to be fine, but I think I’ll let you sweat a little bit.”
“Thanks, I prefer that over the lies.”
He considered her. When the bus pulled up and he passed her to board, he paused to pat her head. She realized she really didn’t give him enough credit for being a nice guy.
She made her way to the back of the bus, where Lenny said, "Hey, hey, if it isn't the little lovebird herself! Are you finally over your love sickness?"
Teri added, "Were you sick because the love bug bit you?"
She smacked them both upside the head. Agatha only stared at Helga before saying, "So you..."
Helga swallowed. This was her first test. Here goes. "Like Arnold?" she finished. Agatha nodded, and Helga said, "Yes. Yes, I do."
Agatha nodded again and didn't ask more, and Helga thought, Oh, yeah, I'm awesome. I totally passed that test.
Arriving at school was fine; she kept her head low and made a beeline for class. She knew she wouldn’t run into Arnold—between his morning detention and first period, he and Lila always stopped by the library to handle last minute presidential business stuff. Even still, every time a blond boy crossed paths with her she jumped. Brainy stood too close and freaked her out so bad she accidentally elbowed him in the nose and knocked him back into a squad of Freshmen cheerleaders and sent them all sprawling.
Grace and poise?
Nailed it.
Second period was tense as she sat in between Agatha and Phoebe in their pottery class. Phoebe was obviously dying to ask Helga about everything but was holding back. A couple kids in the corner were whispering, and she was dying to know if they were talking about her.
Phoebe said reassuringly, "Don't worry, Helga. Actually, there aren't a whole lot of people talking about you—most everyone is distracted by what happened with Rhonda."
"Why? What happened with Rhonda?"
Helga had left the dance early, so as Phoebe told her about the spectacle Rhonda and Curly and their significant others had made, she snickered. This did make Helga feel better; she would have to remember to thank them for making even bigger fools of themselves than she had of herself.
Walking through the halls after that, she felt a little less paranoid. Now when she saw people talking in low voices, she imagined they were talking about Rhonda and Curly, rather than her and Arnold. Well, until she ran into Rhonda herself, that is.
Helga was digging through her locker, Agatha standing by her in her half a dozen scarves that almost buried her face, when Rhonda passed by with Nadine on their way to lunch.
Helga grinned when she saw Rhonda's black eye. "Nice shiner, princess. Was kissing the weirdo worth it?"
"Hmph." Rhonda flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I believe that's none of your concern."
"Right, right."
Rhonda looked her up and down. "Well, Helga. I heard you had plenty of excitement at the dance yourself."
"Oh, yeah, oodles…"
"I simply must ask—you like Arnold ? Surely you must be joking."
Helga crossed her arms. "It's a free country. I can like who I want."
Rhonda's eyes widened a little. "So, it is true! I thought I had been misinformed."
Nadine said, "I told you." She looked at Helga with a sweet smile. "I thought it was very brave of you, Helga."
"Certainly," Rhonda agreed. "Few girls would confess that way. I would have died from the embarrassment! Very brave indeed!"
Helga's eye twitched. "Like you’re one to talk about decorum, Rhonda."
Rhonda tsked , putting a hand on her hip, and her voice dripped with fake politeness, "I never would have guessed it was Arnold you liked. Would you, Nadine?"
Nadine shrugged, her dragonfly earrings flashing. "I don't think it's that strange. Arnold is very nice."
Nadine. Bless.
Rhonda said, "Well, of course, Nadine, but I simply meant it's strange that Helga likes him. I mean, after so many years of torture it seems so out of place."
"Torture?" Agatha asked.
Rhonda clapped her hands. "That's right, I suppose anyone who didn't go to P.S. 118 wouldn't know. You see, Helga used to bully Arnold."
Agatha's eyebrows knitted together. "Bully?" She looked up at Helga with her pink puppy eyes and Helga could only looked away.
"Exactly. Physically, verbally, emotionally. She was really quite awful to him, always picking on him, and she never passed up a chance to publicly humiliate him—"
" Ok ," Helga cut her off, cheeks pink. She crossed her arms. "I think she gets the picture, Rhonda. You can take your bad mood elsewhere, princess."
Rhonda innocently put a hand to her chest and finished, "Which is why the rest of us are all a bit shocked at the sudden change in heart."
Sid and Stinky wandered by then, a girl with a million micro braids under Stinky's arm.
"Well, if it isn't the ladies of the hour!" Sid said to Helga and Rhonda.
"Aw, Rhonda, yer eye's not so puffy today," Stinky said. "Shame. I brought my camera."
Rhonda scoffed indignantly.
Sid turned to Helga, elbowing her. "So, Helga. You love Arnold, huh?"
Helga swallowed. These people were much harder to talk to than anyone else—they knew her whole history, and she was battling the urge to simply tell all of them to jump off a cliff before stomping away angrily. She told herself, Ok, just be you. Don't freak out, don't lie, and don't hit anyone. She said, "Yeah, I like Arnold. What of it?"
Sid pumped a fist. "Boy howdy, I can't believe it! Man, I never thought our plan would work so well."
"What plan?" Helga said.
Stinky told the girl under his arm, "See, Arnold thought Helga hated him, so a couple weeks ago we all decided to make her like him by puttin' up posters and doing basketball 'n stuff."
"Don't be ridiculous," Rhonda snapped. "Helga said she'd liked Arnold for a long time. This hardly has anything to do with all that."
"I dunno, Rhonda, nothing quite says 'I love you' like the swish of the hoop when you make a basket. Music for the soul," Stinky said, and the girl under his arm agreed.
"Wait. What plan?" Helga repeated.
Sid ignored her, "Yeah, I forgot she said she'd liked him for a long time…isn't that the weirdest part of it?"
Helga flinched. "It's not that weird."
"Are you kiddin', Helga?" Stinky said. "It's downright zoinky!"
"Zoinky?" Agatha said.
"That's exactly what we were just saying," Rhonda said.
"That's what you were saying," Nadine pointed out.
"Oh!" said the girl with Stinky, "Is this the girl that likes Arnold?" She looked Helga up and down and Helga felt uncomfortable.
Sid said, "Yeah, who would have thought, right? Ol' heartless Helga, breaking faces on the playground..."
Stinky finished, "All the while her heart was breaking. Makes you kind of misty eyed, don't it?"
Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Please, don't be so dramatic. She's not such a bully now, anyway, so it's different."
Helga glared at Rhonda for how fast she always switched her tune. “Pick a side, why don’t you?”
Rhonda glared at her.
"Dramatic?" Sid said. "It's true, isn't it? I mean, Helga used to be so cranky all the time and most of us were more scared of her than not, but all this time she had a soft spot for Arnold. Heh, it just makes it all the more freaky! Gosh, you should have seen how surprised Arnold was when she told him." He made an impression of Arnold's shocked face. "Ha ha, and in front of everyone. You must be pretty embarrassed, Helga!" Sid elbowed Helga again, jovially.
Helga wrapped a slow arm around Sid's shoulder. She held up her fist in front of him. "Sid, you remember Old Betsy, right?"
He went cross eyed looking at her knuckles. "Uh…yeah…"
"Good." She stared him down. "You know, I can still break faces."
Sid swallowed. "Yep. I got it."
Someone behind her pulled Sid away from her grasp and pushed him aside. Sid sighed with relief. Helga blinked as, to her horror, Arnold joined the circle beside her, followed by Gerald and Phoebe.
"Well, if it ain't the corn haired man himself!" Stinky said.
"Hey, guys," Arnold greeted. He looked at Helga brightly; his green vintage band crewneck was too long and almost covered his hands, and worse, made his green eyes greener. He was a little blinding, actually. "Glad you're back in school. Feeling better?"
She blinked. "Huh? Oh, right. I was sick. Yeah, peachy."
"Good." He smiled at her and she didn’t really get what he wanted. She had shown up today, done half a day of being vulnerable and humiliated, looked Arnold in the face, and now wondered if that was enough and she could go home.
Almost simultaneously, Lenny and Curly both approached the group from opposite directions.
Lenny said excitedly, "Dudes, they have cupcakes in the cafeteria today for Halloween! Cupcakes! With worms!"
"Really?" Sid perked up.
"I kid you not, my man."
Curly came up on the other side beside Rhonda, "Good afternoon, my cream puff! How are you today?"
Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Ugh, I'm not your cream puff."
"Don't be shy, darling. I heard you broke up with Harold for me…" He leaned towards her, wiggling his eyebrows.
Rhonda stepped back. "I did break up with him, but not for you. Come on, Nadine."
Curly followed after the two girls, saying, "Oh, cream puff, there's no need to hide!"
Gerald shook his head as Rhonda shouted for Curly not to follow her. "I dunno if I'm more sorry for Harold, or Rhonda."
"Most definitely Rhonda," Phoebe said.
Lenny was bouncing anxiously. "Come on, let's go, or all the cupcakes will be gone!"
"Dudes, we have to hurry. We have to get cupcakes—there is no other option!" Sid said desperately.
"You guys go ahead," Arnold said. Oh, god, was he still looking at Helga? "Can I talk to you for a minute, Helga?"
Actually, that sounded like a horrible idea. Helga really felt like racing Lenny and Sid for cupcakes, or running away to the Antarctic and living in a solitary igloo with penguins. She liked penguins. But she was currently trying to be an adult, so she supposed she had to stay and take whatever rejection Arnold had to give her like a woman.
"I guess," she said reluctantly.
Everyone else looked back and forth between them.
"Alrighty then," Gerald said at last, taking Phoebe's hand. "Great, so, you guys do your thang and meet up with us, ok? Ok." He passed by, patting Arnold on the shoulder. Then to Helga’s dismay, he grabbed Agatha by the back of the shirt and took her and Phoebe away.
The rest of the group followed him, Lenny singing a little song about gummy worms.
Stinky said suddenly, "Did you know that Helga was my first love?"
Everyone turned to stare at him.
"She what now?" Gerald asked.
Stinky sighed. "Yep, she plum broke my poor adolescent heart." The girl with him patted his chest sympathetically.
"It's like I don't even know you!" Sid exclaimed loudly as they all left.
Helga watched them all go with despair. By now the hall had emptied of everyone else, and Helga and Arnold were the only two left. She swallowed. Maybe she should run away to Antarctica. The penguins needed her. Probably.
But Arnold didn't look threatening. He looked…chipper. Well, fantastic. At least when she was being rejected, it would be done with a smile.
"So?" she said, crossing her arms. "What have you got to say? Just out with it. I don't like the anticipation."
He watched her for a second. "Are you mad at me?"
Well, that was pretty much the last thing she had been expecting to come out of his mouth. "Uh, no…? Why would I be mad at you?"
"For goading you into telling me how you felt in front of everyone. That was my fault, and I'm really sorry about it." He looked completely sincere, which confused her.
"How was that your fault?" she asked.
He sighed. "Well, I did it on purpose so I could get you to say what you really felt." He rubbed the back of his neck and winced. "I thought you might like me, and I wanted to know how you felt because…well, I like you. I like you, like you."
She blinked at him. Then blinked again. "No you don't."
He smiled a little. "Yeah. I do. Again, I'm sorry about Saturday. I really didn't mean for all that to happen. I was mad and jealous of Moze, and I got carried away. But I'm sorry, and if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, just say so. I'll do anything."
"Knock it off."
"Ok. Wait, knock what off?"
"This. It's not funny, Arnold."
"I'm not trying to be funny. I'm being totally serious." He did look serious. "I like you."
It was as though his words were bouncing off of her and she was trying very hard to catch them before they bounced down the hall, but they eluded her. "You don't like me."
"I do," he said again.
"Are you sick?"
He chuckled. "No, I'm not sick. I really do like you. A lot." His cheeks seemed a little pink. "So, I thought, maybe you and I could go out sometime? Give it a try?"
This conversation was not happening. Literally, in Helga's brain, it was not happening. Arnold didn't like her. No, he didn't. She shook her head, trying to get rid of all of her thoughts that were running amok.
"No, I don't think so," she said. She turned, walking towards the cafeteria, trying to regain sanity.
Arnold raised his eyebrows and followed. "No? You are mad, I knew it. I'm really, really sorry—"
"I'm not mad," she said.
"Then what's the matter?" he asked.
"I'm not going to go out with you."
"Why not? You like me, right?"
"Yeah, I do. I'm a man not a mouse, but I don't want your charity and million-thousand apology phone calls."
"Charity? You're not listening to me, Helga! I'm telling you that I want to go out with you, and I'm serious. I really do."
"Well, don't worry, I'm sure you'll get over it. You'll be over it in a giffy."
He put a hand to the bridge of his nose. "Hold on, let me get this straight—you're in love with me, but you're rejecting me? Why?"
Rejecting him? Was that what was happening? That couldn't be; wasn't she the one who was supposed to be rejected? He must be confused. She sure as hell was.
"You don't want to go out with me," she insisted.
"Yes, I do," he shot back. "Have I ever done or said anything to make you think I don't? How many times do you need me to say it? I really like you."
"Say it as many times as you like, it doesn't mean anything."
Arnold rolled his eyes in frustration. "Why are you so close-minded sometimes? You only ever hear what you want to hear! I like you, it's simple! Why is this such a hard concept to understand?"
She refused to look at him, stomping ahead, fists clenched. "Ok, fine, you like me! Which proves you're probably dumber than I thought!"
"What! Why are you doing this to yourself?" He grabbed her arm to stop her walking. "Stop being stupid!"
" You stop being stupid! This is the stupidest conversation I've ever had!" She broke out of his grip and stalked away, feeling a headache coming on. This time, he didn't follow.
What, what, what, what...
What?
She walked down the hall, feeling as though she had passed through a tornado and been spat out somewhere completely different. She rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes, feeling like the tornado was now inside her skull, spinning her brain around so fast it might fly out her ears. Then it would probably explode. She should have stayed home in bed after all.
She somehow reached the cafeteria, then wondered why she had bothered going there at all. She didn't feel like eating or talking to anyone. She stood in the doorway, absently looking into the lively room, and feeling a little light headed. She was about to turn around and leave when Phoebe caught sight of her. She was at a table with all the others while they happily ate their Halloween cupcakes, and when she saw Helga she hurried over, took her hand, and pulled her a little closer to the table.
"Helga, how did it go?" Phoebe asked anxiously. She looked around. "Where's Arnold?"
Helga shook her head. "I dunno."
Gerald had also come over to give Helga his full attention. He said, "Uh-oh. You don't look happy. What happened?"
"Gee willikers," Stinky said. "It's clear as horse spit—she's been rejected."
Sid shook his head sympathetically. Agatha stood and put a hand on Helga's arm. Teri said, "Aw, man, that sucks, sorry, Helga." Lenny offered her the last bite of his cupcake.
"That's not possible," Phoebe said, frowning.
"Definitely not. What really happened?" Gerald asked.
"He said..." Helga wrestled with it for a minute, before she finally said clearly, "He said he liked me."
Gerald nodded. "Right, yeah. And? Then what?"
Helga looked between Gerald and Phoebe. "Why don't you look surprised?"
They looked at each other. "Well, because we're not," Phoebe said. “We know he likes you.”
"Boy howdy, for reals?" Sid exclaimed. Teri started laughing, and Lenny said, "Wait, who we talking about again?"
"Shut up, you guys, it was obvious," Gerald snapped at them. Then said to Helga, "But tell us what happened next! Where is he? Why are you so gloomy?"
Helga didn't respond. How could they say they knew that he liked her? Well, he would have had to tell them so. He had told her so. And Arnold wasn't a liar. There was a contradiction here that Helga couldn't solve.
"Oh, boy, don't look now, guys," Sid said, "but here comes Arnold and he looks like he means business."
The group turned to see Arnold coming in the cafeteria doors. They were dead silent as he crossed towards them, a hard look on his face. Helga swallowed and took a step back, but he walked right past the entire group. He didn't even pause to look at any of them.
They watched him cross to a table in the middle of the cafeteria, where he said, "Excuse me," to the people sitting there, pushed aside their lunch trays, and stood on top of it.
The mere act of climbing on the table grabbed quite a bit of attention, but the fact that it was Arnold, Sophomore class president, grabbed more. To top it off, Arnold said loudly, "Excuse me for a minute, everyone, I have some very important presidential business."
The buzz of conversation and clanging of trays quieted down. When it was quiet, Arnold said, "I'm publicly stating that I am in love with Helga Geraldine Pataki."
The room was dead silent. A utensil clanged against the ground, ringing in the silence. A few students looked at each other, confused, and someone asked, "Who's Helga?" The people at Helga's table sat with eyes wide. Helga herself stood with her mouth gaping open.
"Whoa," Gerald said beside her, "that is some straight shooting."
After a moment of silence, R.J. raised his hand.
Arnold pointed at him. "Yes, R.J.?"
R.J. stood from his seat, drawing attention to himself. "How is this presidential business at all?"
"I'm the president and it's my business," Arnold answered.
"You can't use government positions to further your own personal gain, it's against the law—"
"R.J., sit down and quit being so pretentious."
R.J. looked offended but sat down anyway, his nose in the air.
Arnold turned back to the room at large. "I'm merely saying this because Helga is so stubborn . Hopefully, now that I've also embarrassed myself in front of the whole school, she might understand how serious I am."
Helga jumped when he turned and locked eyes on her.
"Now she might actually listen when I say I love her," he said. He looked back at the room. "Thank you for your time."
He stepped down from the table and back across the room to the exit, and by the time he reached them, the student body was in an uproar, applauding and laughing and saying, "Did that seriously just happen?"
Arnold got home after basketball practice, feeling completely worn out. He let Abner and the rest of the boarding house pets out the front door before dropping his backpack and duffle bag on the ground and slamming the door. Inside Sunset Arms, paper orange pumpkins hung across the doorways and spiderwebs covered the pictures on the walls. His grandmother stood on a ladder dressed as a fortune teller, a light bulb in her mouth as she installed a black light in the hall.
Little Iva ran around the corner, dragging a Styrofoam skeleton behind her. She clamped onto Arnold's leg.
Phil came by a second later, saying, "Get back here with that, you little imp! Oh, hey, Shortman, how was school?"
"Chaos," Arnold answered.
He had spent the morning in excited anxiety waiting to see Helga, then had confessed to, gotten rejected by, and fought with her, which led to the brash decision to announce his love in front of practically everyone he knew. The rest of the day passed with him being followed around and mocked by Wolfgang while Arnold explained to a million people that, no, he had never actually been dating Lila.
Some of his friends had been really surprised, but eventually had shrugged and went along with it.
Sid had said, "Arnold, you're kind of weird guy, has anyone told you that? But I like it."
When Gerald had found Arnold, he grabbed him by the front of the shirt and said, "You are a bold, bold kid."
Phoebe had been so excited she wrapped her arms around Arnold in a hug. "I'm so happy for you two! Helga's waited such a long time," she said. He pointed out that he and Helga weren't actually together yet, to which she only replied, "Not yet ."
At practice, Moze gave him an approving thumbs up. Then Teri gave him a nuggie, and Lenny offered to let Arnold borrow his lucky baseball card, which he believed had the power to remedy any situation.
Arnold had only seen a glimpse of Helga the rest of the day, down a hallway before last period. They made eye contact through the crowd, and he tried really hard to decipher her expression before she was swept away in the sea of students.
He thought the idea to tell everyone that he loved Helga might not have been the best decision ever, but he didn't regret it. He was glad he had, and he didn't feel bad about using the "L" word, either. He did love her. He just hoped that Helga wasn't too put off by him coming on so strongly. Well, she had come on to him strongly, too, but still. Sometimes she was easily scared off, and he still didn't understand why she had freaked out so bad when he said he liked her in the first place.
"Grandpa," Arnold picked up Iva from his leg and handed the skeleton back to Phil. "What do I do if I tried picking up some of the pieces and I only made it worse?"
"Worse, eh?" Phil rubbed his chin with the skeleton hand. "Well, if you're trying to fix it and it just doesn't want to be fixed, there's not a whole lot you can do. But maybe you're thinking about it wrong—who said it would be quick and easy? Besides, big messes like this take two people to clean up."
"Two?"
"Sure. You can't be doing all the work yourself—takes teamwork to make the dream work! Isn't that right, Pookie?" Phil turned to his wife.
Gertrude had climbed down the ladder and was now holding a tambourine that she shook in the air. "Two halves make a whole!" She danced into the other room.
"Heh heh, there you have it," Phil said. "You keep on working on your half, Arnold, and if you're lucky, maybe she'll start picking up her half."
Arnold nodded, thinking about this. He turned to go up to his room, still carrying Iva, who was tugging on his hair.
"Oh, Arnold, are you still going to that party tonight?" Phil asked as he was on the stairs.
It was the Sunset Arms boarding house annual Halloween party that night, no kids allowed. Fortunately, Lorenzo, the school rich boy turned party animal, was throwing a Halloween party at his mansion that night and all the neighborhood kids were going. Arnold didn't know if he felt up to it now. After practice, Gerald had offered to stay home with him tonight, but Arnold had told him to go with Phoebe and have fun.
"I don't think so, Grandpa. Don't worry, I'll stay upstairs, though," Arnold said.
"All right, suit yourself. But if you get hungry, come down and have some food. I'll allow it." Phil winked at his grandson.
Arnold smiled. "Thanks, Grandpa." Then he headed upstairs.
He stopped by the Kokoshkas' room to drop Iva off, and Oskar said when he saw her, "Oh, thank you, Arnold, I didn't even know she was missing."
Then Arnold went up to his room, closed the door behind him, and flopped onto his bed. He closed his eyes with a sigh.
Takes two to clean up, does it? he thought. He wondered if Helga even wanted to pick up the pieces.
He had been so confused when she rejected him earlier—what had that been about? Phoebe had told him to be straightforward, but had he done it wrong? Maybe it was his fault; maybe with Helga, it was better to go slow and take things easy. He didn't mind that much, he would wait, but he couldn't help wondering how much time it would take before she was ready to start helping him pick up the pieces of their messy story.
A knock disturbed his thoughts, but it wasn't a knock on the door. He opened his eyes, confused, and looked up through his glass ceiling.
Framed in the pink and orange sky, Helga was looking down at him. When she saw she had his attention, she motioned for him to come up.
Arnold shot up from the bed and climbed the ladder to the roof, so eager that he accidentally missed a step and bumped his head against the shelves on the wall. He pushed the glass latch open and climbed onto the roof, rubbing his head, and finally, landed eyes on Helga.
She looked incredibly uncomfortable, but she said, "Hi."
"Hi," he said back, a little breathless.
"Sorry, uh, that I'm on your roof."
Arnold shook his head. "That's fine. You can be up here." He paused. "How long have you been up here?"
She shrugged. "Since school got out."
He raised his eyebrows; school got out at two thirty, and it was now almost six o'clock and the sun was starting to set.
She added defensively, "I needed time to think."
"Alright." At least it was a rather warm day today, he would have felt terrible if she had been sitting around in the cold. "Have you—"
She pointed at him. "Ah, no! Stop talking."
He clamped his mouth shut.
"Come here." She led the way to where his grandmother kept her grand piano. It was covered in a thick piano case to protect it from the weather, but the piano bench was free and Helga gestured to it. "Sit."
He sat obediently and looked up at her.
"Ok." She pulled on the hem of her sweater and cleared her throat. "I love you."
He smiled. "Right."
"No, don't talk! I worked on this!"
"Sorry."
She started again, "I love you, and I've been in love with you for a really long time. Pretty much forever. Sorry if that's weird for you. But I'm tired of running away and pretending I don't like you, because it's stupid and it gives me a headache. I never told you when we were kids, never actually told you, because, well, you probably would have laughed at me. And then I moved, and I missed you so much, but I got over you and moved on, but then I moved back and that was awkward as all hell. But I thought I could just be New Helga, and maybe I could be your polite acquaintance, or friend, or whatever, but of course, you made that totally impossible because you're just so freakin' adorable , and I realized that I still loved you anyway, and then it got all tense and weird, and I'm sorry about fighting you a bunch and almost kissing you in your room last week, and I'm sorry I totally lost it and freaked out at the dance and let the really ugly cat out of the bag."
She began pacing slightly, gesturing a lot with her hands. "I was literally barely getting to a point where I was accepting the fact that it was ok to be in love with you and never do anything about it when everything blew up, and I think that's part of the reason I freaked out earlier today. I was trying really hard to accept my own feelings, and I was bracing myself for you to reject me, and when you said you liked me, I seriously thought you were off your rocker, because, honestly, that's flat out crazy. It threw me off, and I didn't even know what to do, because the thought that you actually liked me had never even crossed my mind. Sure, I had wished you would like me, but I thought that's all it was: wishful thinking. I was totally prepared to spend the rest of my life in love with you while you never loved me back."
"But I do love you," Arnold said.
She stopped and spun around, pointing at him. "See! That's exactly what I'm talking about! That's crazy! Didn't all that stuff about stalking you and collecting your stuff weird you out?"
He shrugged. "A little. But then I thought it was kind of cute."
She gaped at him. " Cute ? I was certifiably insane!"
"Maybe. But you were a little kid. Or maybe I'm crazy, too."
"Well, yeah, you'd have to be to even be talking to me right now. But, still."
He rubbed his chin. "So that's why you were against going out with me when I asked you out earlier?"
"Uh. I guess.”
"So…will you go out with me now?"
She shuffled awkwardly. "I don't know."
"What? Why?"
"Because I'm a coward, obviously!" She threw her hands in the air. "I mean, I bullied you for years because I was afraid of rejection. You might think you like me, sure, but I know for sure I love you way more. What if we start going out, and it doesn't work, so you break up with me? I really don't think I could handle that. I would much rather be rejected now, than be in a relationship with you and have it fall to pieces, or have my heart totally crushed when you break up with me. Besides, you seriously don't want to be in a relationship with me, because I would be awful at it. I'm emotionally backward, I make fun of you all the time, I get crazy jealous, I'm closed off, and I have commitment issues! And I'm terrified of relationships, since I don't know what a good one looks like, and all of the examples in my life are terrible. My parents are so messed up—half the time, I wonder why they even got married. They're better now, but they still fight, and they have so many issues, and I don't want to live my life like that. If we ended up like them, I'd probably kill myself. And my sister? Don't even get me started. She and her husband are all cuddly and calling each other 'schmookie poo' and 'my lovely honey pie' and rubbing noses in public . Yeah! They do! And I'm just not that. When I was younger, sure, I imagined us being all cutsie and saying 'you're the queen of my heart' and crap like that, but if that's what a relationship is, I don't want it, and, frankly, I would just let you down, anyway!"
Arnold tried to cut in, "Helga, that's not—"
"It is, and so maybe it would be better if we just—"
He stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders, cutting her off. "You're not listening to me again."
He turned her around and sat her on the bench. She looked up at him, her blue eyes red-rimmed and wide. Had she been crying? His gut wrenched at the thought. But she was here and she was trying.
"My turn to talk. You listen," he said. "You've been in love with me for years, right? The last thing you have is commitment issues. You do have a hard time talking about your feelings sometimes, but that's ok. That's not a chronic disease, that's something you can actually change, if you want. And I'm glad you get crazy jealous, because you know what? So do I. Being in a relationship doesn't mean we would figure it out right away. We have to find our own way of doing things that works for us. You might be scared to be in a relationship, but not trying because you're afraid it might end badly is wrong . You could miss out on so much. I'm just as nervous as you are, but I like you too much to quit before we've started. And, I swear, we will never end up like your parents."
She stared up at him before looking down. She twisted the hem of her sweater around a finger. "You were always so good at that," she said.
He raised his eyebrows. "Good at what?"
"Making me believe you. I can't tell you how many times I was able to mend the holes in my life because of your advice or what you told me."
"…Really? My advice?"
She snorted and looked up at him. "Yes, you, dummy. I was a bratty, neglected kid who didn't take anyone's crap and didn't know how to connect with people. It's because of what I learned from you that I was able to grow up and reach out and make friends. Do you remember what you said to me the day I moved?"
He shook his head, carefully sitting beside her. He had a feeling if he moved too fast she might bolt.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, not looking at him. "I was boasting it up how I was going to get out of this neighborhood and be so much better off without all you losers and junk, and you just looked at me and said, 'Moving is a good chance for you to be whoever you want to be, because no one there will know the difference. You should try being yourself, Helga. I bet the kids at your new school will like you as much as I do.'"
He felt a smile on his face. "I said that?"
"Yep. You were the first person that only expected me to be myself—not a bully, not my sister, not perfect. Just me. You did a lot for me. You still do. You made my life…nicer."
She still didn’t look at him, but he could see the pink blush on her cheeks. Not an embarrassed or angry blush, but a soft one. It made his stomach flutter.
"You know, you made my life better, too," he said.
She rolled her eyes. "Pfft. Oh, come on, I did not. I made your life miserable."
"No you didn’t. Well, when we were really little maybe. But as we grew up there were times I came across problems that I never could have handled if you weren’t there to help me. And now, looking back, I suspect there's even more things you did for me that I never knew about. Remember that day just after fourth grade where we were sitting on my front stoop, eating the Jolly Olly man's ice cream and watching everybody else play baseball?"
"Yeah," she said. She was looking at him now.
"And you ribbed me about my parents being gone?"
"Erk!" She flinched. "Yeah…"
"But then you told me that, no matter what, you'd be there for me." He smiled. "That meant a lot to me. I'm not really sure why, because at the time I had my friends and my grandparents, and my family in the boarding house, but once in a while, when I was having a bad day, I'd remember that you said you'd be there for me. And even though I never saw you, I believed you. It made me feel good to know there was someone out there in the world who would come if I called."
"Well, good. 'Cause I was serious, and I would have come running."
"I know." His smile widened. "I think that made it all the better when you came back. I missed you, Helga, and I was kinda jealous you were growing up somewhere without me. I think I was half in love with you already, and it didn't take much for me to fall the rest of the way. I think if you hadn't moved then, I would have fallen for you that summer."
"Ok, now you’re just exaggerating. No way that’s true."
"Yes, way."
She looked skeptical. "Nah.”
“Don’t tell me what I think.”
She paused. “Ah. Sorry.”
At her sudden repentant expression, a laugh tried to escape him and he had to quickly choke it down.
“Are you laughing at me?” she demanded.
“No! Well, only because I think you’re cute.”
Her blush immediately deepened. “I’m not.”
“Don’t tell me what I think is cute. And you are very cute.”
She looked like she wanted to fight him but was wrestling it down. He wondered why it was so hard for her to accept that he liked her.
“Helga,” he said. He waited until she looked at him. “Do you trust me?”
Her blue eyes searched his. They were indigo in the light of the growing twilight, and to Arnold they seemed wide and honest. She nodded. “Yeah. I trust you.”
He took a risk—he bumped his shoulder into hers and stayed there, trying to smile as trustworthy as possible. “Good. Will you go out with me?”
She searched his face again. Then she gave a tiny little nod.
“Good.” He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight until she stopped looking so unsure. It would have been easy to do it, she was already so close—but one step at a time. One piece at a time.
He stood, glancing up at the twilit sky, before turning back and holding a hand out to her. "We're going out tonight."
She was surprised. "What? Where?"
"I don't care. Nowhere, anywhere. But we're going together."
"Hmph. Blind leading the blind." She looked at him, then his hand, then at him. He wiggled his fingers. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“Very sure.”
“…Criminy. This is a terrible idea.”
Then she shyly put her hand in his. He pulled her up and intertwined his fingers with hers. She was tense, but her cheeks were still pleasantly pink and she didn't pull away. He really did want to go somewhere. And he wanted everyone to see her holding his hand.
"We can go to Lorenzo's party," he said. "You would love his house. It has twenty three bedrooms, two pools, and this huge diamond chandelier."
She jolted to attention. "Are you serious? What the heck are we still doing here?"
He laughed. She smiled, for the first time since she had been there, and it made him so happy to see it that he leaned forward and gave her a swift kiss on the cheek.
He pulled back to see that her smile had fallen and she was staring at him.
"Sorry," he said quickly, "Too soon?"
She reached up with her free hand, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled his mouth to hers. Finally, he thought. Her lips were warm in the cool October night—he had goosebumps, but it wasn't because of the cold. After a minute she moved away, and he opened his eyes to see her pressing her lips together and tucking her hair behind her ear.
She was so ridiculously cute. It had taken him way too long to realize. He had a lot of lost time to make up for.
He hooked a finger in the pocket of her jeans and lightly pulled her back toward him. Her shoulders shot up to her ears nervously, and he couldn't help his smile before he kissed her again.
And it was so like Helga to get over her shyness abruptly and wrap both arms around his neck. He put his hands on her waist, continually surprised at how happy he was to be so close to her. They bumped noses once or twice, but he didn’t mind and she didn’t seem to, either. Finally they pulled back, all bright blue and green eyes and pink cheeks and disheveled blond hair in the fall breeze. Arnold felt like laughing. Instead, he gently leaned his forehead against hers. She tiptoed, giving him a little kiss on the nose.
"Kissing noses in public ?" Arnold teased in a low voice.
"Shut up," she said. Then, "You should kiss me again."
Then he did laugh. "Whatever you say, Helga."
He leaned in, only to be startled when he heard a loud crash. He turned towards his room, where the glass hatch had been left open, only to see the Sunset Arms boarders duck out of sight.
"Damnit!" came Ernie's hushed voice from below. "You totally pushed me off that ladder! Hyunh, scoot over!"
"It was not me, it was you!" Mr. Hyunh said.
"Shush, ya bunch of idiots!" Phil whispered harshly.
Helga turned beet red and backed away from Arnold, her hands in the air like she had been caught committing a crime.
Arnold felt the embarrassment of his silly family bubbling up inside of him, which was quickly being overpowered by anger. " What are you guys doing?" he demanded.
His grandfather, Mr. Hyunh, Ernie, and Oskar slowly peeked over the edge of the roof.
Phil said, "Oh, heya, Shortman. We, uh, didn't see you up there."
"Are you kidding me?" Arnold demanded, his cheeks flushed. "Can I not have even a little privacy?"
"Well, sure you can, Arnold, we just needed some quick pictorial evidence," Phil said.
"You needed what ?"
Mr. Hyunh waved a camera guiltily, and Ernie said, "Well, you see, we had to get a picture to prove who won the bet."
Arnold was dumbfounded. "What bet?"
"The bet on whether or not you two would get together. We've been waiting for years ." Phil turned to Oskar. "Looks like you owe me back my fifty bucks, Kokoshka."
Oskar waved his hand. "Oh, Grandpa, we made that bet so long ago! We didn't even know that was the same girl when she came over last week. Can't we just forget it?"
"Heck no, you cockroach, I want my fifty bucks back!"
"How about an IOU?"
The men were all shoved aside as Arnold's grandmother pushed her way to the top of the ladder. "Oh, there you two are!" she exclaimed at Arnold and Helga. "I've been looking all over for you—I've got your costumes all ready for your party!"
"Wha, how did you know she was here?" Mr. Hyunh asked Gertrude while Phil tried to strangle Oskar.
Gertrude tapped the side of her nose. "The nose knows."
Arnold was horrified. He turned to Helga, having no idea how to apologize for his family. He was surprised when she burst out laughing.
"Why are you laughing?" he asked.
Helga shook her head, wiping an eye. "I don't know, ha ha! You have no idea how long I've waited for this!"
Arnold chuckled, then took her hand again. It just felt right to be holding her hand.
"Hey, Arnold!" Phil called, "Kiss her again, real quick for the camera!"
A small chant of "Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her" started among the boarders and Mr. Hyunh held up his camera. Arnold looked to Helga, who was still laughing.
She said, "Better make it a good one, I guess?"
He grinned. "Yes, ma'am."
He pulled her close and kissed her while the camera flashed and his family's cheers echoed across the rooftops of Hillwood.
Chapter 11: Nowhere but Down
Notes:
Part 2
Chapter Text
Helga had been not-single for one whole hour.
As if that weren’t strange enough, she was also dressed as a UFO, sitting in the front seat of the Packard beside Arnold, who was dressed as a green alien, on her way to a party where pretty much everyone she knew would be.
Honestly, she could have been anywhere, dressed as anything and it wouldn’t have made a difference. She could be in an enchanted forest with a herd of unicorns, butt naked, and still have felt as out-of-body as she felt right now.
She glanced at Arnold, the boy she loved, who liked her back for some god forsaken reason who carefully checked every mirror and over his shoulder before changing lanes.
What even was this entire day? This entire month? This entire year? Her New Year's wish had been for the Eagles to win the state championship, and she thought she had gotten close enough when they had made it to the semifinals. That felt like an entire lifetime ago. A different dimension. Or that had been reality, probably; how she had gotten into this bizarre dreamworld, she didn’t know. Maybe the timeline had shifted when the school burnt down. Maybe Helga had died in that fire, or was laying in a coma somewhere.
And in that coma she had dreamed she kissed the prettiest boy in the world and then allowed his grandmother, dressed like a fortune teller, to put her in a knee length poofy silver skirt with shiny lights blinking around the hem, and a headband with little gold stars on springs poking out of it. A weird dream, but she wasn’t fighting it. There was no point in fighting a dream.
Since they had left the house they had been mostly silent, until Helga absently asked, “Is your grandma actually psychic?”
Arnold looked at her with a sudden panicked face. “Why? What did she say to you? Did she say something weird to you?”
“Not really.”
“If she says something weird to you, please ignore her. If anyone in my family says anything weird to you, please ignore them!”
“Uh, sure.”
He stared at her another second before having to look back to the road. He was in a green jumpsuit with a headband that had two green antennae looking things sticking out of it. Gertrude had smeared two green lines on his cheeks, but Arnold had ushered Helga out of the house before his grandmother could add anything else to their costumes.
The car was quiet again. Was it a comfortable quiet or an awkward quiet? Helga was too far out of her body to tell. She hoped it wasn’t awkward. She hoped Arnold wasn’t regretting announcing to the entire school that he liked her and then actually following through and asking her out. If he was, she supposed she had lived her dream out long enough already. One whole hour as Arnold’s significant other was maybe all she really deserved. Or could handle.
They turned down a street Helga had never been on, where all the houses became larger and stood much farther apart. As they neared a large gated mansion, more and more cars lined the street, and Arnold had to loop around to find a small space he could squeeze the antique car into.
Helga unbuckled as the car turned off, but Arnold said quickly, “Wait, don’t move!”
She froze as he got out of the car, slammed his door, and hurried around to her side. He opened her door, offered her his hand, and smiled.
She looked out at him in a panic.
“What?” he asked, helping her out of the car.
“Too soon,” she said.
“So it’s not too soon for us to kiss in front of my entire family, but it’s too soon for me to open a car door for you?”
Oh holy hell, she definitely had kissed him in front of his whole entire family. And she had let them take a photo . She felt all the color drain out of her face. “If anyone ever sees that photo, I will jump off your roof.”
“My roof is only three stories.”
“I’ll find a taller roof, and I’ll jump off that.”
He shut her door. “Noted. Don’t worry, it shouldn’t be hard to find the negatives when I get home tonight. They’ll all be drunkenly passed out, anyway.”
The Sunset Arms adult Halloween party had seemed to be getting pretty loose when they were leaving, and Phil had barely stopped Oskar from accidentally handing cups of spiked punch to Arnold and Helga as they left.
They walked up the long drive toward the house, which was decorated for Halloween, lights and music drifting through the windows and open door. A group of kids were sitting on the steps, laughing loudly in their Halloween costumes. Before they reached the steps, Arnold turned to her.
“Alright, but,” he started sheepishly, “is it too soon to hold your hand again?”
Ok, so he wasn’t regretting everything yet. “I’m in a coma, so why not.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. “Whatever you say.”
If Helga was hoping for a moment where her soul would re-enter her body and everything would stop feeling like a dream, it didn’t happen the rest of the entire night. Maybe the fact everyone was in bad costumes and pressed together and that the house was literally enormous and made of gold and crystal didn’t help. Certainly the big blinking skirt she was wearing and the boy who kept her hand in his all night didn’t help. Even when Phoebe spotted them and tackled her in a hug and Gerald slapped Arnold on the back, Arnold still didn’t let her go.
There was dancing happening in one of the big rooms, but Helga was glad when she and Arnold looked at each other and simultaneously turned away. Too soon to be returning to any dance floors. They wove from room to room, stopping to talk to their friends, who hollered at the sight of them and congratulated them, making Helga squirm. She resisted the urge to yell at anyone or run away; except at Harold, who tried to congratulate them but instead burst into uncontrollable tears. He blubbered about his breakup with Rhonda, his arms around Arnold, until Helga had to pry him away and tell him to get ahold of himself. Arnold told him he’d feel better soon and Helga told him there were already other fish in the sea with their eye on him. Both boys asked her who, to which she replied if he didn’t know already she wasn’t going to blab the secret. Stinky and the short girl with microbraids, who he introduced as his new girlfriend (Chey or Shai or something, Helga wasn’t sure and was too embarrassed to ask in front of everyone) appeared with snacks to comfort Harold. Later, when Sid was trying to wrestle Harold into helping him steal the rest of the candy from Lorenzo’s fancy kitchen (guarded by an exasperated cook who didn’t want to be babysitting the party goers) Gerald came to the sad boy’s rescue, except in the tug of war they tripped over Eugene and all four boys went tumbling into the pool.
Helga and Arnold watched from a safe distance in the corner of the outdoor courtyard, sipping foamy purple fizzy drinks with floating jelly eyeballs. Helga laughed at the idiots in soggy wet costumes flailing to get out of the pool, Gerald yelling at Sid the whole while. He yelled more when several other kids jumped in around him.
Helga noticed Arnold smiling at her. “What?” she asked.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he simply said.
She could have asked what he meant, was it the mortifying experience at the school dance or pretending to be sick for several days because of that mortifying experience or their argument earlier that day or Arnold’s way-too-public confession or the ethereal kiss that had shoved her soul out of her body a matter of hours ago. He was probably referring to all of it.
She pretended his observation did not remind her how every muscle in her body was tense and the only thing keeping her from exploding after the insanity of the day was the fact that she wasn’t convinced this wasn’t a dream. A large purple Care Bear passed right then and stroked her hair, only adding to her thinking it was a dream.
Besides, it wasn’t as if she was going to refuse to come to this dumb party to face everyone who had been judging her when he had asked her so nicely earlier. Right before he had kissed her. He could have invited her to walk into hell itself and she would have been powerless to refuse. He was an angel who could have whatever he wanted, as far as she was concerned.
She took a sip facing away from him and pretended the cup wasn’t shaking. She wasn’t functioning on her last thinning nerve, not at all.
The party started winding down around midnight, while Lorenzo’s cook, the reluctant babysitter, brought Gerald and the others towels as they shivered by the poolside. Arnold suggested they head out, which Helga was only too grateful for at last. Sugar-crashed teenagers stumbled out of Lorenzo’s trashed mansion and past the mermaid water feature in the driveway toward their cars and the bus stop. Arnold and Helga made it to the bottom of the front stairs before Sid sprung up behind them and latched onto Arnold.
Sid wailed, his skeleton face paint smeared down to his neckline, “Arnooooold, please you gotta take us home! You know Night Bus Wendy won’t let us ride like thiiiiis!”
Harold sat on the steps wrapped in two towels, weeping quietly again.
“He’s right, man. We could use a favor—,” Gerald was cut off when he sneezed four times in a row. Phoebe dropped another towel over his head and rubbed him dry.
“I have to take Helga home,” Arnold replied, looking at his soaking wet friends guiltily.
Helga shrugged, looking at Sid’s runny makeup smear on his sleeve when he wiped his face. “You can take all these saps. I can get myself home.”
“It’s late, you shouldn’t go home alone,” Arnold replied.
She jumped when Lenny spawned beside her, a pillow sack of candy in his hand and a pile of glow stick rings around his neck. “You can come home with me, Pataks.”
“The hell! Since when are you here, Lenny?” she demanded. “I thought this was a southwest Hillwood kids party.”
“I came to hang out with Sheena. She’s playing hard to get, though,” he said. “I’m so glad you’re here, Pataki—I hate riding the night bus alone.” He shivered dramatically and looped his arm through hers.
“Swell, that solves that,” Helga said. Then Arnold shot her a quick glare that surprised her. What had she said? Criminy, she was already bad at being not-single.
“Oh god, Helga,” Sid wailed gratefully, latching onto her instead, “Helga, you’re so good, what an upstanding guy, what a gracious lad, what a—”
Helga grabbed him and marched him toward the Packard. When the group got to the car, she watched on the side as Gerald complained about having to sit in the back with Sid and Harold, and when Phoebe volunteered to do it instead, Gerald grabbed both boys and shoved all three of them into the back.
“Good night, Helga! See you tomorrow!” Phoebe called and waved, climbing in the front seat.
Helga looked at the group interacting in the car in a lively manner, and her best friend still waving at her with a happy smile from the front seat. The music and lights had died down from the house, leaving the bougie neighborhood quiet. Helga and Arnold looked at each other. Helga looked down at their hands, which had been all but fused together tonight. Arnold followed her gaze and finally, he slowly let go.
“Um, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Arnold said.
“Yeah,” Helga said. “See you tomorrow.”
He looked like he wanted to say something else, but Helga hadn’t the slightest idea what. She waited, but he looked at Lenny, the Packard, the kids pooling around the bus stop, and opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be able to figure out how to get home from here,” Helga said.
“That’s not the point,” he said.
“What’s the point?”
Behind them, Gerald rolled down the window. “Let’s go, loverboy!”
“Alright, alright!” Arnold called back. Then he called to Lenny, who was a few feet away, “Hey, Lenny!”
Lenny, who was digging through his pillow sack of candy, glanced over at Arnold. “What’s up, alien man?”
“Make sure Helga gets home safe for me.”
“Who me? I’m hoping she makes sure I get home safe,” Lenny replied.
Helga snorted. “Please, Lenny’s all height and no brains. He’s a limp noodle in a pinch.”
“I’m such a limp noodle in a pinch,” Lenny agreed.
“See?” Helga said.
Arnold rolled his eyes. “Will you at least text me when you get home?”
“Sure, I will,” Lenny said.
“He’s clearly not talking to you, moron!” Helga snapped at him. Then to Arnold, “You’ll be dead asleep by the time I get home, I’m not going to wake you up.”
“Helga, I’m serious. It’s not an option—text me when you get home.”
“Ok, ok, sheesh. Is this going to become a thing now?”
Arnold gave her an exasperated look, his hands on his hips. He wasn’t as intimidating in the little springy alien headband. “Yes, it’s going to become a thing! It’s my job to make sure my girlfriend gets home safe!”
Well, he might as well have slapped her. Her soul—which had been attempting to re-enter her body—went spinning off into the night sky.
“Girlfriend?” she said dumbly.
“Yes!” Arnold said. He abruptly stopped. “Too soon?”
The giant purple Care Bear went lumbering behind Arnold, followed by a stumbling Abraham Lincoln with a peeling beard, who tripped into the ditch. The Care Bear stopped and stared at her with its large dead eyes.
Helga shook her head.
Arnold smiled slightly and opened his mouth, but Sid shouted out the window, “Please hurry, Arnold! Harold looks like he’s gonna hurl!” Phoebe shushed him loudly, telling him not to interrupt.
Arnold rolled his eyes and stepped back. He said to Helga, “See you tomorrow,” and he walked toward the car. Right before he got in, he waved at her. Lenny picked up her arm and waved for her.
Helga watched the car pull away, the headlights flashing as he turned the old hunk of a vehicle around. She might have stayed there all night if Lenny hadn’t picked her up around the waist and carried her down the road and onto the bus, momentarily getting stuck when her big UFO skirt got stuck in the doorway. She rode in the back in a stupor, vaguely aware when Lenny got off the bus thirty minutes later while yelling at her to watch to make sure he got inside his door safe. Ten more minutes down the road she almost missed her own bus stop. But then she thought Arnold might be waiting up for a text and she shouldn’t keep him up too much later on a school night, so she sprung out of her seat, passing the Care Bear, shouting at the bus driver until they hit the brakes hard. She shoved her way out of the bus door and ran back a hundred yards to her house.
The house was dark, but before Helga reached her room, Miriam popped her head around the corner, dressed in her bathrobe.
“Helga, were you still out?” her mother asked.
“Yeah, I was…with my…”
“Oh, good, good. Hope you had fun trick-or-treating with your friends!” Miriam shuffled back to her room. “Aw, so fun to be a kid…”
Helga went into her room and shut the door. She pulled out her phone and sent Arnold a text that said, Home.
She dropped her phone on her bed and waited in the darkness of her room, only her skirt blinking, certain he was already asleep. Then her phone buzzed and lit up. Good. Goodnight, Helga.
Arnold wasn’t sure if he was exhausted or wired. Either way he was perfectly content about it.
He had woken up that morning with the fall sky barely starting to light up beyond his glass ceiling. He smiled at the spot where Helga had appeared yesterday, waiting for him.
The warm Halloween night had given way to a tepid November 1st morning, and Arnold had gotten dressed and accidentally ended up at the bus stop fifteen minutes early. He took the city bus these days—it was easier than waking up his grandfather for a ride to school for his early morning detention. He didn’t mind walking through the empty halls of Hillwood High that early; he had learned to kind of like it. Sure it was annoying to be there, but it was nice not to have kids throwing paper airplanes over his head or have a Sophomore pop up beside him, asking for his help as their class president. Besides, it was good time to catch up on homework or presidential business. He’d been meaning to look over the Sophomore proposal about optional early lunches for honor students on Fridays, but everything crazy with Helga had been distracting him the last few days.
But somehow he’d done it. He had convinced Helga Geraldine Pataki to suck it up and date him.
He’d told her he loved her.
He’d kissed her on his roof.
He’d held her hand at a party in front of all of his closest friends.
He had almost texted her when he had gotten up that morning, but thought that might be too much after everything else. Despite their conversation yesterday, he knew she was still hesitant about things, and she didn’t entirely seem to believe Arnold when he said he liked her. So it was his first priority not to scare her off or stress her out. Besides, the longer they dated, the more used to it she would become—and the better he would figure her out. He had lots of time to ease into things like morning texts.
He absently hummed to himself as he turned down the hall toward detention, and paused when he saw Lila and Eugene, his fellow detention inmates, standing outside the door.
“What’s going on, guys?” he asked as he reached them.
“Oh, good morning, Arnold,” Lila greeted.
“Great news, Arnold!” Eugene said. “Principal Smirnov has retracted our detention punishment. You’ll never guess who we have to thank.”
“Who?”
Eugene gestured to the window in the classroom door. Arnold stepped closer and looked inside. Mr. Welch, the driver’s ed. and algebra teacher, was snoring at his desk. Sitting in the back of the room were the usual detention kids—Kelly Undermeyer for ditching class too often and Anthony T. for peddling plagiarized history essays—but in the front row in the center desk Arnold was shocked to see Helga. She leaned over the desk, chin in her hand, reading a book. She yawned widely, then noticed the three people looking through the window at her. She snarled at them, then stuck out her tongue. Arnold gave her a questioning look, so she picked up her book to hide her face from their stares.
“What’s she doing in there?” he asked the two redheads beside him.
“Apparently she took the full blame for the big food fight we all caused,” Lila said. “It’s ever so kind of her, although she really didn’t have to do that.”
Chuckling to himself, Arnold pulled out his phone and texted Helga, Come to the library when you’re done.
He watched through the window as she discreetly took out her phone to glance at the text, then she dropped her book and gave him a flat look. He waited until she gave in and nodded, looking uncomfortable, probably because she had been caught doing something nice. He snickered as she put the book back up, hiding from him.
The three liberated students left down the hall together.
“Awfully nice of her,” Eugene said as they went, “I’ll have to thank her somehow. Now that it’s November, the drama club is in full swing to get ready for the Christmas pageant, and I can’t afford to waste time in detention! Do you think Helga wants a role in the play? I heard from Ronnie Tanaka in her English class that she has a flair for drama.”
“I recall Helga being quite the actress from our elementary school days,” Lila added.
“True, true! She was a great Juliette. I still have that tape at home.”
Arnold had seen Eugene’s original script for the Christmas play this year—Phantom of the Christmas Carol—and had to choke down a laugh thinking how Helga would hate being in it.
“I’m sure we can think of some other nice way to thank her,” Arnold said.
Eugene left them a few hallways later to head to the drama room, and Arnold and Lila went to the library, where his unofficial Sophomore class president office was. The president and vice president took up their usual seats at their designated desk and pulled out the honor student early lunch proposal to discuss, as well as several other items of business Lila had on her list as they neared the end of the semester.
When it was nearing 7:40 A.M., the time detention usually released its captives, Arnold kept checking the clock. Apparently he did so often enough that Lila giggled and cleaned up their papers.
“We can get back to this during lunch,” she said. “By the way, congratulations, Arnold. I’m ever so happy for you two, I think you’ll make a sweet couple.”
It was a little embarrassing to know a large portion of the student body had been witness to both his and Helga’s public confessions. So much for easing-into-dating in a private way. “Er, thanks.”
Then the library door swung open and Arnold turned to see Helga stalking in. She marched up to their desk and stopped in front of them, shoving her hands in her gray sweatshirt pockets. She glared down at them, but Arnold thought her cheeks were a bit pink.
“If you try to lecture me, I’m leaving,” she told him. He snorted and crossed his arms.
Lila looked between them, then stood up. “I’m headed to class. Bye, Helga! I’ll make this up to you, I promise.”
“Make what up to me?” Helga said.
“You know, how you—”
“I did nothing, and you’ll say and do nothing about it, Miss Vice Prez.”
Lila blinked at her, then smiled widely. “Ok. For now.”
“‘For now,’ what’s that mean? Hey, don’t just walk away from me!” Helga called after her, but Lila waved and walked out the door.
Helga turned back to Arnold, looking even more uncomfortable now that they were alone.
“Didn’t we agree it was fine I was doing detention, and you would just owe me for it?” he said.
She shot back, “No, you decided that without my consent. Besides, who says I did it for you?”
He raised his eyebrows sarcastically. “Who are you doing it for then? Eugene?”
“Maybe I am. That kid’s a disaster, especially after Curly had his claws in him during the elections. He needs all the help he can get.”
“If you really wanted to help Eugene, you could audition for his Christmas pageant. You’d make a great Phantom of Christmas yet-to-come.”
“Absolutely the hell not. I’d rather do detention the rest of the year.”
Arnold stood up, tucking his books under his arm, and rounded the desk. “Ok, but really, Helga. Everyone was involved in that food fight, you don’t have to take all the blame.”
“I mean, if you think you can convince Curly and R.J. to take half the blame, I won’t complain.”
Arnold definitely didn’t think that was possible, and by the look on Helga’s face she didn’t think so, either.
She headed back out to the hall and he followed beside her. The buses had arrived so the halls were filling with students.
“How long did the principal give you?” he asked.
“Two months,” she replied.
“What, two months! She only gave us four weeks, and we already did half the time! Why can’t you just finish out that sentence?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t fight her on it. That woman looks like she drinks blood on the weekends.”
Arnold let out a surprised laugh. “I know. But, Helga, you really didn’t have to do this.”
She rolled her eyes and stopped walking, facing him. “It’s fine, Arnold. I was a big part of the problem, and I was trying to figure out how to get you out of trouble, anyway. This was simply the fastest way. Stop feeling all responsible and guilty about it and just worry about the other stuff you have to worry about.”
He smiled. “So, you admit you did do it for me?”
“Shut up.”
“How come?” he asked teasingly, hoping to get a blush out of her.
“So you don’t have to take on any more work than you already have, doi.”
Arnold paused. That wasn’t the bashful answer he was expecting, but it was somehow even sweeter.
He wanted to hug her. Except her hands were still safely in her pockets, as if to signal to him not to touch her with so many people around, so he figured he shouldn’t. He considered patting her shoulder to show his affection at least a little, but that didn’t seem like enough to him, and he wasn’t sure she would want even that level of physical touch at school. Dang, this might be harder than he thought.
So he asked, “Do you want to come over to my place and finish that Baba Yaga project?”
“Oh, that? You don’t need to worry about that, either, I finished it up ages ago,” she said. “I’ll turn it in today.”
“Oh. Ok.” He quickly racked his brain for another way to see her outside of school. “Are you coming to the basketball game on Saturday?”
“I guess so. Lenny keeps telling me I have to be there to hold his lucky baseball card for him.”
“Well, and you’ll be there to cheer me on, right?”
He smiled as he watched her think about this, a range of micro expressions flashing by. “…Do you want me to?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’d love you to be there,” he admitted.
“…Ok.”
“Maybe afterward we can get something to eat with everyone? Or just us, if you want.”
“…Ok.”
Then Agatha ran up to them and latched onto Helga’s arm. Her orange sleeves were too long and covered her hands entirely; she had a little ceramic turkey broach pinned to one side of her overly thick scarf.
“Hey, Aggie,” Helga greeted. “I see you’re channeling the holidays already.”
“Yes,” Agatha replied vapidly.
Teri was following behind her, shouting with a grin, “Pataki, where have you been! When you weren’t on the bus we thought you were going to fake being sick again.”
Helga replied casually, “Nah, just had some stuff to take care of here. I might not be on the morning bus for the next couple months for no particular reason.” She eyed Arnold threateningly, and he innocently pretended he didn’t know what she was referring to.
“Aw, cute, is it so you and your boyfriend can hang out in el wee hours of la mañana,” Teri said, wiggling his eyebrows at Arnold. “Que romántico.”
“Can it, Theresa, no one likes your bad spanish,” Helga said.
“Says you, I got an A in Spanish last week.”
“Yeah, thanks to Phoebe.”
“And Lenny,” Agatha added.
“Weirdly, yes. How is that the only class he’s passing again?” Teri asked.
“Beats all sensibility,” Helga said.
“Too true. Did you see him at that big Halloween party last night? I heard you guys were there.”
Helga suddenly blushed so Arnold replied, “Yeah, we did.”
“The sap has got a thing for that old friend of yours, Arnold. Think he’s got a chance?”
Arnold wasn’t very close with Sheena these days, so he couldn’t say for sure if she liked anyone or if Lenny was even her type. “Who knows? Might as well give it a shot. Nowhere to go but up.”
“Very wise, Mr. President,” Teri replied, nodding sagely. “I mean, if you can get Pataki to fall head over heels for you, you must be a romance genius.”
“And that’s your queue to get outta here, Theresa, before I have to kick your ass!” Helga declared, pushing Teri down the hall ahead of her. The large boy resisted, but Helga set her shoulder into his back and kept him moving.
Left behind, Agatha looked at Arnold. She gave him a small little wave.
“Morning, Agatha,” he said with a smile.
She nodded, then hurried after Helga and Teri.
Arnold watched his girlfriend— his girlfriend —disappear into the morning crowd with her friends. He tapped a finger against his textbooks, a little smile on his face.
He didn’t need to be in a rush. Things were good, and they could only get better. Nowhere to go but up.
Helga had been a girlfriend for three whole days.
Was she nailing it? Who knew. Probs not. But she was a million percent determined not to screw it up too bad. Arnold was a good guy who had a lot on his plate, and the last thing he needed was a girlfriend who created any kind of inconvenience to him. A good girlfriend didn’t cause trouble. A good girlfriend was helpful and nice. A good girlfriend wasn’t a burden on her very nice angelic boyfriend in any way and supported him in everything.
Which was exactly what she was doing today. She pulled on her shoes at exactly 10:30 A.M. on Saturday, ready to catch the bus soon to Darvill High, where the Junior Varsity teams would have their basketball game at 12:00 P.M. Some of the other players from East Side High had gone to Darvill, so it would be kind of fun to see old teammates, Helga supposed. But of course, her loyalty was now to the Hedgehogs—which was why she was now donning the ugly orange, red, and black school sweatshirt all the East Side High refugees had received as a welcome gift.
Her phone buzzed on the bed, and she went over to it, expecting one of her friends texting about being late or something. The number wasn’t registered in her phone, but when she saw it she stopped, her sweatshirt half on. She slowly pulled it the rest of the way on and leaned over the phone to glance at the message.
Good morning.
She flipped her phone face down.
Five minutes later she appeared from the bathroom, after plucking a stray eyebrow hair and talking herself into being fine with her hair, shoved her phone in her pocket and left her room.
Big Bob was already on the golf course, and Miriam was in the kitchen on the phone with Olga, as was usual for Saturday mornings. Helga paused in the living room when she heard Miriam say, “Oh my goodness, I’m just so excited! You sure you can’t come any earlier?”
She listened to her mother making plans with Olga about Thanksgiving for a few seconds before cutting in to ask, “Are only Olga and Danny coming for Thanksgiving?”
“Well, and Danny Jr., of course. What’s that Olga?” Miriam listened for a moment before gasping, “Oh of course, no problem at all! We’d be happy to! Any family of Danny’s is family of ours, you know that!”
Helga had heard what she needed to hear, and it wasn’t a welcome thought. But she had other things to worry about today. She left the house, headed down the block, and caught the next bus going north.
Teri and Agatha were already on it, and she took a seat by them, shooting the shit until they reached their stop. Darvill High was much nicer than Hillwood High, and a large bronze lion stood in the front.
“Wow, check out these lockers. There’s not even one rusted door off its hinges,” Teri said, rapping his knuckles against the shiny blue lockers. “Just think, one street lower in the zoning and we might have ended up here after our old school burned down.”
It was weird to think what Helga’s life would have been like if she had ended up here. The freak arson accident at her old high school had set things in motion, and three months later her life was totally different. Maybe it had been destiny.
I’m Arnold’s girlfriend now, she thought as they entered the gym. Large lion motifs were displayed across the new school’s basketball court. On the scoreboard, Darvill vs. Hillwood was displayed, and loud music was playing over the speakers as the announcer hyped the crowd for the game. The players were already on the court, huddled on their respective sides in jerseys, circled around their coaches.
“Helga!” Phoebe called from the stands, waving them over. She was sitting beside Gerald, Sid, Harold, and Moze, near the front of the bleachers. Like Teri, as Varsity players Gerald and Moze were only spectators today. It seemed Lenny was allowing Gerald to hold his lucky baseball card for now, so the lanyard hung around Gerald’s neck.
Helga led the way to them. She was halfway there, looking down at the Hedgehogs in their orange jerseys with black and red lettering, when one of them leaned out of the circle. It was Arnold; he smiled brightly at her. Distracted, Helga’s shin slammed into a bleacher bench and she tumbled over the middle aged couple sitting there, spilling their popcorn. Teri and Agatha pulled Helga off the frazzled strangers, and she embarrassingly glanced back down at Arnold. He was looking at her in concern, even while the rest of the J.V. team began heading to the center of the court. Oops, she was being a burden already. She quickly gestured for him to go back to what he was doing, ignoring her throbbing shin.
Arnold didn’t turn away until one of the other team’s players shouted, “Hey, there’s Ladybird!” grabbing his attention.
Helga recognized three of her old J.V. teammates taking their places on the court as part of the Darvill team. They were waving their arms up at her, to the confusion of the rest of their team.
“Yo, it’s Ladybiiiird!” another one called, pointing her out to several other players on the benches.
“Pataki, what are you doing, man? Why aren’t you playing today?” they shouted.
“I’m babysitting the Captain!” she shouted back, gesturing to where Moze was sitting, who was waving at them. Teri had taken his place by the ex-basketball captain and waved too.
“Captaaaain! We miss youuuu!” the guys shouted. “Teri! How’s it going!”
“Hey, what about me?” Lenny said from his place on the court.
“Nah, Lenny, we don’t miss you!”
“Yeah, we’re about to wipe the floor with you!”
“Sorry, Pataki, we have to slaughter your team today!”
“Hmph,” Helga said to herself, “yeah, we’ll see.”
She was standing by her friends now, and she gave them a nod. Then she pulled her sweatshirt over her head, just as everyone but Moze did. Beneath their jackets and sweaters, they were all wearing neon pink and yellow colored shirts with Arnold’s face on them. Thank goodness Helga had saved hers after the presidential campaign, although she hadn’t known it would come in handy again.
At the sight of Helga’s pepto bismol pink shirt with Arnold’s face, Moze, several audience members, and the rest of the team below began laughing. Agatha’s was too big on her and drowned her, and Teri’s was too small, stretching tight around his middle. Phoebe had knotted hers on the side cutely. Sid and Harold flexed their muscles beside each other in their matching yellow shirts, Sid’s arm not even half as thick as Harold’s massive bicep. Gerald, who had loved Helga’s idea and even worn a forearm’s worth of I Heart Arnold friendship bracelets, shouted, “Alright, Hedgehogs! Let’s goooooo!”
On the court the team was laughing at the display of shirts. In the center position, between the towering, guffawing forms of Stinky and Lenny, Arnold’s jaw had dropped.
Helga put her hands on her hips. Supportive girlfriend: check! she thought proudly.
The buzzer sounded and then it was a chorus of music blaring, Coach Beezus shouting, and sneakers squeaking. On her feet the whole time, leaning over the bleacher’s railing, Helga watched Arnold and his team run back and forth, steal the ball, run plays so fast the ball was hard to see, and score points. She easily and quickly sunk back into the thrill of the game, shouting at Lenny when he wasn’t open at the right time, and Arnold when the ball was smacked out of his hand, and then at Beezus for calling a bad play. Beezus turned around and shouted up at her to shut up, completely missing Stinky’s slam dunk. Moze, Gerald, and Teri stood beside her, cheering and shouting loudly. Phoebe and Agatha sat on the bench behind them, sipping soda and clapping. Sid and Harold took turns going to buy more snacks.
When Arnold had the ball, Helga recognized a dirty play from her old teammates used to knock him out of bounds. Her old coach had called that move the “Ladybird Special”—if the idiots had done it right, it wouldn’t have been counted as a foul. But foul it was, so the teams lined up and Arnold took his place at the free throw line. He wiped sweat from his chin, dribbling the ball once, then twice. Helga held her breath as he took the shot; then she cheered the loudest when the ball sank right in the hoop. Running back to center, Arnold grinned up at her and she loved it.
At halftime, Stinky’s girlfriend (whom Phoebe informed Helga was named Shante) came out with the dance team. They did a fun little twirly dance, after which the Darvill High cheer squad did an obnoxiously hoity-toity number. The teams reappeared, somehow with more energy than the first half, and Helga was hollering at them to keep up until the final buzzer sounded. Lenny’s last layup echoed right as the Hedgehog’s crowd erupted in cheers, the final two points putting them ahead on the scoreboard.
Arnold and the others high fived and slapped each other on the back before shaking hands with the other team, who looked upset.
“Sorry, fellas!” Teri called to their old teammates as both teams headed back to the locker rooms. The old East Siders made noncommittal waves.
“Weird to watch our teammates up against each other,” Moze commented as spectators began to head off the stands.
“Yeah, like Family Feud but with more boy-sweat,” Helga said.
“No kidding. I’m gonna go say hi to them, you wanna come?”
“Sure, I’ll come along and rub in our victory,” Teri said, literally rubbing his hands together.
“I’m good here. Tell them I say hey,” Helga said. She was fine being off the basketball team now, but watching the game today did sting a little. She didn’t feel like hashing out the details of that development with her old teammates who would make a big deal out of it.
Agatha tugged on Helga’s arm and whispered that she needed to find the bathroom, so Helga left the group to discuss where they wanted to grab fries and milkshakes once Arnold and the others had cleaned up and changed.
The bathroom wasn’t far, so Helga sent Aggie down the hall to it and waited beside the closed door into the gym, listening to the babble on the other side, keeping an eye out for Arnold to reemerge. Her sweatshirt was back on, and she fiddled with Lenny’s baseball card lanyard around her neck, which Gerald had bequeathed to her shortly after the game had started per Lenny’s instructions. She hoped she had been a good enough girlfriend today. She wondered if Arnold would sit by her while they had milkshakes. She wondered if he would hold her hand under the table, like Gerald and Phoebe sometimes did.
Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket. She regretted it when she saw it was the same nameless number from that morning:
Heard there was a game today. Did you play?
She snorted at the message. She debated for a moment, then replied, How long have you been back?
Since yesterday, was the swift response. Then, Did you miss me?
She had forgotten all about him, actually, and it had been a peaceful six months.
Voices made her turn from her phone. Down the hall, Agatha had come out of the bathroom—in front of her stood three guys and a girl, grinning down at her. Helga recognized them immediately, and pushed away from the wall to hurry toward her friend.
She skidded between her friend and the jerks, cutting the girl off in the middle of whatever stupid things she was saying to Agatha.
“Helga Pataki,” the girl, Gemma, said. She had short hair and freckles and a wide face and a leather jacket. She was grinning widely, the same stupid gap in her front teeth that Helga hated. “We were just asking Aggie if you were around. How fortuitous to run into you here, all alone.”
“Gemma,” Helga replied coldly. “I see you got a haircut. I like it—it accentuates your pig face.”
Gemma’s smile dropped into a sneer. Helga took a second to glance back at Agatha—the short girl was frozen in place, a slight tremor running through her. Shit, Helga should have been waiting closer to the bathroom. She had no idea these bozos would be here.
Helga turned back to face the tallest boy, who leered down at her.
His dumb, deep voice rumbled at her, “Oh, good, you haven’t changed a bit, Pataki! When I saw you weren’t on the basketball team, I figured you’d been kicked off finally. Thought maybe you’d gone girly.”
“Nope, haven’t changed—I’m still smarter and better than you, Jerry. Not that it’s a fair comparison for you, dumbass.”
Jerry chuckled, glancing back at the other two boys, Barney and Michael. All three boys were as badly dressed and insipid looking as the last time Helga had seen them. She had hoped not to ever see them again.
“This is a real cute team up, though,” Helga said, pointing from Gemma to Jerry. “Birds of a feather, is that it? Ugly and stupid meets ugly and stupid? Don’t tell me you’re dating?”
“That’s none of your business,” Jerry snapped.
“Yeah, whatever. What are you losers doing here?”
Gemma hmphed and popped a hip. “We go here, genius.”
“I know you do, genius ,” Helga mocked, “but you don’t even show up for school on a school day, let alone a Saturday.” She casually glanced back toward the gym door. It wasn’t too far—Agatha could make it if she ran fast. If her legs weren’t frozen to the ground, that is. “So, what, you’re upstanding students since I last saw you, out here supporting the school team, is that it?”
“Yeah, yeah, we love basketball,” Barney snickered.
“Nut-uh,” Michael said, making a face, “Pataki wasn’t even playing today. It was fucking boring.”
“Aw, sorry to disappoint you, Mikey,” Helga said. She shifted her weight, subtly putting a hand behind her to touch Agatha’s arm. The girl was ice cold. She shifted her weight again, preparing to shove Agatha toward the door.
“What’cha doing, Pataki-poo?” Gemma asked, suddenly grabbing Helga’s hair and pulling her head to the side.
Helga grabbed Gemma’s face and shoved her away, ignoring the sting when her hair was pulled out of the girl’s hand—but Jerry took the opportunity to step around Helga and smack Agatha on the chin with the back of his hand. Agatha was small enough that even that mild of a hit knocked her back against the water fountain behind her. The fountain shot a splash of water at Agatha’s shoulder before the girl stumbled to the ground, flinching at Jerry’s booming laugh.
Helga stepped in front of Agatha again and slugged Jerry hard in the stomach, then when he was wheezing from that, for good measure she kneed him in the balls. He doubled over, the breath knocked out of him, and Barney charged her. She knocked him back, but missed Michael’s elbow coming at her face from the other side.
Pain struck across her face. But Barney and Michael, despite being well known thugs, were very bad at fighting. They were already pausing to guffaw at her, so she easily karate chopped Michael in the throat, making him gag, and when Barney looked at his friend in surprise, Helga reached down and grabbed him by the pant legs at his ankles and yanked, knocking him over on his ass.
With all three boys momentarily incapacitated, Helga turned back to Gemma, who sneered at her from a safe distance. She heard footsteps behind her, and Teri’s voice shouting, “Agatha!” About time those idiots showed up.
“You picked the wrong day to gain some school spirit, Gems,” Helga said, aware Agatha was now safe with Teri behind her. She could hear Gerald and Phoebe’s voices, too.
She could taste some blood on her lower teeth. Damn, it had been ages since she’d had to get physical like this. These losers had gone after Agatha plenty of times in junior high, but once they had learned from experience that Helga could take a hit and dish them, in high school they had stuck to only yelling insults at her down the hallway.
Helga continued, “Did you come here hoping to harass Agatha, or were you looking for some other poor sap to pass your Saturday on? I’d suggest moving along to them before I have to remind you how much I dislike you.”
“Tch, who would ever go out of their way for Aggie? What a waste of time that would be,” Gemma said, shooting an uncomfortable glance over Helga’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong, Gems? You don’t want to play now that there’s an audience?”
“Ugh, you’re so annoying,” Gemma said, rolling her eyes. She was still backing up, past Barney and Michael, who were rubbing their throat and ass respectively, glaring at her. “We just thought we’d come scope things out. Got a call that said you and your little freak might be here.”
“Got a call?” Helga asked, her interest unwillingly piqued. “What do you mean?”
Gemma didn’t look like she wanted to answer, so she shrugged and said, “Whatever. See you around town, Pataki-poo. Come on, Jerry.”
Jerry was attempting to stand straight again, glaring furiously at Pataki, then over her shoulder at Helga’s friends, then back at her.
“Who told you we were here, Jerry?” Helga asked.
“Fuck you, Pataki,” Jerry said. “You better keep that albino creep close, ‘cause if I see her around town—”
Helga lunged forward and grabbed Jerry by the front of the shirt, slamming him into the lockers behind him.
“Helga!” she heard Phoebe gasp worriedly.
“Who told you to come here today?” Helga demanded, digging her knuckles into Jerry’s sternum so he winced.
She would have accepted it if Jerry spit in her face or hit her. Instead he chuckled and said, “A mutual friend. Kind of nostalgic to remember the good ol’ days, right, Pataki?”
A hand on her arm made her flinch, expecting another attack—but Arnold was suddenly beside her, a hard look on his face as he looked from Jerry to Helga. Helga’s heart sank.
Teri had come up on her other side, twice Jerry’s width and glaring daggers down at him. “Should I get a teacher, Pataki?” Teri asked.
Helga dropped Jerry’s shirt. “Nah. I don’t want to have to see this ugly mug any longer today than I already have. Get out of here, Jerry, before we drag your stupid ass and your stupid girlfriend’s ass into the gym to show your new classmates how easily you get your butts kicked.”
Jerry looked like he wanted to hit her, and part of Helga wouldn’t have minded if he had tried so she would have an excuse to break his nose. It was already crooked from when she had broken it at the age of thirteen, the day she’d met Agatha.
“Come on, Jerry!” Gemma called from down the hall. When Jerry lumbered after her and the others, Gemma sneered, “See you, Pataki-poo. Send our love.”
Helga didn’t need to ask who to send their love to. Her phone in her pocket felt like it was going to burn through her jeans.
When the group of idiots disappeared around a corner, Helga sighed and turned around. Teri had stepped back to join Lenny, Gerald, and Phoebe, who were huddling over Agatha. Agatha herself was crouched down, her hands in her hair, staring at the floor, shaking.
Arnold was still beside Helga, his duffle bag over his shoulder, freshly showered and in his team tracksuit. He was looking at her with a hard frown. Helga swallowed hard, licking her lips, then realized there was some blood on them and hurriedly lifted a sleeve to wipe it away.
Embarrassed he had caught her like this, Helga started, “I didn’t mean to cause a scene—”
She stopped when Arnold took hold of her wrist, looking at the drop of blood on her sleeve. Then he inspected her face, his eyes stopping on her swollen lip. “Did they hit you?” he asked.
She quickly waved him off. “Nah, barely. Just got a lucky shot when they tried to get past me to Agatha.”
Arnold looked down at Agatha. She hadn’t moved still, despite Phoebe talking quietly to her and Teri crouching down to put his hand on her shoulder.
“Who were those guys?” Arnold asked. He was speaking calmly, but she could see beneath it he had gone steely. He was angry.
“Settle down, Mr. Righteous,” Helga said. “They’re one-note bullies, nothing to waste your time over. They always had a thing for bugging Aggie, but I just wasn’t expecting to run into them today. I’m sorry I—”
“Don’t apologize,” he said firmly. “I understand.”
Helga relaxed slightly. At least if he was mad, it wasn’t at her; but this was definitely poor girlfriend behavior on his big day. She rubbed her sleeve where the blood stain was setting into the ugly orange fabric. “I think I should take Agatha home.”
He nodded. “Do you want us to go with you?”
“No, she won’t want a crowd. ‘Sides, no need to kill the celebration because of us.”
Arnold snorted. Then he touched her arm again lightly. “Are you really alright, Helga?”
“I’m fine. Seriously,” she said.
“Did they used to pick fights with you a lot?”
“Those chuckleheads are mostly all bark and no bite. I haven’t had to put them in their place like this since eighth grade. Guess they’ve been at this fancy school a little too long.” He still looked like he was about to go all Arnold-problem-solving and try to do something, but she really didn’t want him to do that, so she stepped away and said jovially, “Look, if you don’t eat the biggest milkshake of your life today, I’ll be super pissed. What else did I wear this lame shirt for if not for you to kick ass and then celebrate? Alright?”
“…Alright.”
“Alrighty, then.”
She patted his shoulder, then felt awkward for doing that, and turned around to go to Agatha. Gerald moved aside to let her into the center of the group and she crouched beside her frightened friend.
“Hey, Aggie,” she said gently, “you ready to go home?” She waited a second until Agatha gave the smallest of nods. “Ok. Can you put your arms around my neck?”
After a few seconds, Agatha slowly uncurled, reaching toward Helga. She put her thin arms around Helga’s neck, hiding her face in her shoulder, and Helga scooped the tiny girl into her arms and stood up.
“Phoebe, call me a cab,” she said.
“Calling!” Phoebe replied, her phone already in her hand.
“Teri, Len, get the doors.”
“Move aside, people!” Teri snapped, he and Lenny leading the way down the hall. They didn’t go back through the gym to avoid any crowd still lingering. When they reached the outside, Harold and Sid were laughing with Stinky and his girlfriend on the front steps.
“Hey guys, ready to chow down—whoa, what happened?” Harold said.
Gerald grinned, jabbing a thumb at Helga carrying Agatha. “Our WWE queen here just whooped a whole gang’s ass for messing with Aggie, that’s what.”
“Whoa, for real? We missed it?” Sid whined.
“Aw, gee, I haven’t seen Helga kick someone’s butt for ages! Shante, you should’a seen her in her hey day. Wowee,” Stinky said to his girlfriend. Then to Gerald, “Did she make them cry?”
“Basically! Listen, this is how it went down,” Gerald started, who hadn’t even been there to see the whole thing.
Helga left them behind and headed toward the cab that was pulling up on the curb. When they reached it, Arnold got to the door first and opened it for her. Teri went around the other side and got in, while Phoebe handed the driver money through the window. Helga placed Agatha inside and pried her hands from around her neck.
“What, I can’t come?” Lenny asked, realizing there was no room for him in the backseat. He looked at the front seat, but the cabbie glared at him.
“Go get a milkshake with everyone, Len, you earned it,” Helga said, pulling off his baseball card lanyard and tossing it to him. “Good game.”
“Thanks, Pataks, love you.” Lenny bent down, looking at Agatha in the car. “I love you, too, Aggie!”
Agatha didn’t reply, her face in Teri’s shoulder, her hand holding Helga’s, who was standing with one foot on the ground and one in the car.
“Will she be alright?” Arnold asked in concern, still holding the door open for Helga.
It had been a long time since Helga had seen her friend like this. Agatha had been through a hell of a lot of bullshit as a kid, but she had been doing better since she had been taken in by her new, super nice step mom. Then she had met Helga and the others and benefitted from a group of friends. But this wasn’t a great setback.
He had no-doubt known all this when he called Gemma and Jerry and told them where they might find Agatha today. Which pissed Helga off. Which had probably been the point.
But to Arnold she said, “Oh, she’s tougher than she looks. Right, Aggie?”
“Yeah, she is!” Teri answered supportively for his friend.
“She just needs a reset. We’ll look after her,” Helga finished.
“Call me if I can help at all,” Arnold said.
“Thanks, peaches, but you don’t need to worry your pretty little head. We’ll be fine. See you on Monday?”
“Yeah.”
Helga slid into the car.
“Hey, Helga,” Arnold said, keeping the door open. She looked up at him, expecting to see more of the worry which she had accidentally caused him today. But he said, “I think you’re really cool.”
She felt her face flush. “Wow, that’s so lame.”
He laughed. “Text me when you get there.”
“Uh, but it’s broad daylight?”
He turned to Phoebe and Lenny, who were standing on the curb behind him. “Someone please explain to my girlfriend why it’s totally reasonable for me to ask for a text when she gets home.”
“Like anything out there could be scarier than Helga,” Lenny said.
“Not you, Lenny,” Arnold said.
Phoebe started, “Helga, it’s very common for a good boyfriend to want a girlfriend—”
Helga blushed deeper. “Ok, ok, I will! Criminy!”
Arnold smiled and shut the door. She watched him pass in the window, waving at her, as the cab pulled away. Then she faced forward, dreading the knowledge that there was a message still on her phone from a nameless number.
Chapter 12: Guess Who
Chapter Text
Helga walked right past the line of Sophomores waiting to get into the library to see the president. Several of them scoffed at her audacity, but she ignored them, making a beeline for Torvald, the guard at the library door.
“What’s up, Pataki,” Torvald greeted her.
“Torvi,” she replied, holding up the two Yahoo sodas as payment for her entrance into the library.
The large eighteen year old Torvald took them, sticking one in one of the many pockets of his cargo pants. He popped open the other one. “You don’t need to pay in the future, Helga.”
“I don’t?”
“Nah, I think Arnold wouldn’t want me to keep charging you.”
Helga brightened at that. “Special treatment, eh?”
“What! She gets to skip the line and the door charge?” the next person in line complained.
Someone else hollered, “Who does she think she is, anyway?”
“What do you mean, who does she think she is?” Torvald sneered at the younger kids, shutting them up quickly. “That’s the president’s girlfriend, you dweeb. Put some respect on her name or answer to me!”
Helga tensed as a ripple of whispers went down the line. “Oh, that’s her? The one from the dance?”
Helga rounded on the Sophomores. “Listen up, you lot!” she barked, pacing part way down the line. They jolted to attention. “The President is an important and busy man! So if you’re about to bother him with anything as unimportant as, say, homework questions, complaints about cafeteria food, concerns about the state of the world, or help getting into your decrepit locker, then scram. There are other people who can help with that, so don’t waste the President’s time. Capiche?”
No one moved so she repeated louder, “I said, capiche?”
Several kids grumbled and left the line, shooting annoyed glances back at her.
“Good. Spread the word, nerds. I only want to hear about actual problems—or better yet, solutions—being brought to the President’s attention.”
Behind her, Torvald said, “Well, great, there goes my Yahoo supply.”
“Sorry, Torvaldo, but it had to be done,” Helga replied.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. It was good while it lasted.” He held the door open for her, announcing into the quiet library, “Helga Pataki to see you, sir.”
“Thanks, Torvald,” came Arnold’s reply from deep within the room. Helga walked inside and across the aisle to his desk, where he and Lila sat across from a Sophomore student tearfully recounting their sob story. Lila patted their hand sympathetically and handed them a tissue.
There was a chair nearby, which Helga had noticed Arnold kept nearby the last several lunch periods, and Helga liked to think it was just for her. She set down her notebooks there quietly, and listened to Arnold respond to the student, letting his soft voice wash over her pleasantly. She didn’t mind spending her lunches in the library. Since they didn’t have any classes together, it was the easiest way to spend time with him. Even if it meant also being with Lila and a dozen other needy Sophomores. At the first sign of extra stress for him, Helga would stop coming, but if she was careful not to distract him or add more to his plate, she hoped it was ok for her to be around while he worked. He was too nice to tell her if she was being a burden, so she was determined to be diligent in noticing it herself.
Helga caught Arnold’s eye and pointed to a nearby bookshelf, indicating she wasn’t going to bug them and where she was going. Arnold nodded, and when she stepped away she heard him whispering something to Lila.
Helga picked her way through several literary critiques, looking for one she needed for her English class. In her hand she had an open tupperware filled with cherry tarts, which Teri had baked last night and brought to share with everyone. She popped one in her mouth as she considered which books seemed the least heinous.
Her phone buzzed and she paused mid chew. She swallowed hard, then reluctantly pulled out her phone. She hoped to see something from one of her friends, or even from Olga, who sometimes sent photos of Danny Jr. to her. But as she suspected, it was from a nameless number.
Cold today. Are you wearing a sweater?
There were five other insipid messages before it, one a day since Saturday. Helga hadn’t responded to any of them.
She jumped when Arnold appeared, leaning an elbow on the bookshelf beside her. She quickly put her phone away.
“Hey,” he said with a smile.
“Hey, yourself, hair boy,” she replied. She held out the tupperware of tarts to him.
“What are these?” he asked, picking one up. It was small but perfectly made with a shiny candied cherry shaped like a heart and a delicate dusting of powdered sugar.
“From Teri—they’re Aggie’s favorite.”
Arnold popped it in his mouth, chewed, then looked impressed. “Wow.”
“I know, right? They’re even vegan. He should go professional.”
“Yeah. How is Agatha today?”
Helga shrugged. “Best she’s been all week. Lenny squirted chocolate milk through his nose on the bus this morning, and she laughed.”
“That’s great.”
He cocked his head toward her, his eyes dropping to her lips. Her heart rate skyrocketed through the roof and probably hit the moon like the bell on a high striker game. He was going to kiss her? Right now? It had been eleven days since she had last kissed him—technically first kissed him—as a teen anyway—she had only thought about it six million three hundred and thirteen times since then—oh god, she would get to put her lips on his again—maybe rest her hand against his chest—
“Your bruise looks better, too. I’m glad.” His eyes slid up to hers, and she wasn’t sure what happened but he seemed to freeze.
Then he straightened up and stepped away, looking at the bookshelf behind her, running his hand through his hair. Helga pressed her forehead against the books in front of her and willed her heart to beat quiet, mortified that he could probably hear it in the stillness of the library. Of course he’s not going to kiss me in the middle of school—how stupid of me.
“Tomorrow.”
She pulled her face out of the books and looked at him.
His back was still to her. “Tomorrow Gerald and Phoebe are coming over after practice to study and hang out. Do you want to come, too?”
“Tomorrow? Yeah, ok.”
He turned around and smiled at her. Then he blinked. “Oh, hey, Patty.”
A few feet away, Patty, in a very frilly blue shirt and glittery eyeshadow, looked at them dryly, her library cart in front of her. “Am I interrupting?”
“No, no. You’re not,” Arnold insisted.
Helga cleared her throat, but at least it was only Patty. For some reason, Patty didn’t feel like someone who would embarrass her. She said, “Here, Pats, have a cherry tart.”
Patty took a tart from her tupperware and eyed it before taking a dainty bite. “It’s good.”
“I’ll pass your compliments to the chef.”
“Helga, can I ask you something?” Patty asked, carefully wiping a crumb from her mouth.
“Sure, shoot.”
“You’re a girlfriend, right?”
“Uh—” she resisted looking back at Arnold. “Yes?”
“What do you think of this eyeshadow?”
Helga blinked. She looked closer at Patty’s round face and the glitter smeared beneath her thick eyebrows. “Your eyeshadow? It’s, uh…real sparkly?”
“Sparkly good or sparkly bad?”
“Sparkly, sparkly? I don’t hate it.”
Patty turned her dry expression to Arnold. “What about you, Arnold? You’re a boy.”
“Um, yeah. It’s nice,” Arnold replied.
Patty nodded thoughtfully and Arnold looked at Helga in confusion. Helga shrugged, but she had an inkling why Patty was asking. Since Harold and Rhonda had broken up after the Halloween dance, Harold had been real mopey, but Helga had seen Patty talking to him in the halls more often.
Oh, poor sweet sap, Helga thought. In the throes of love and war, battling that great dread dragon, unrequited love! Unlike Helga, whose love had been requited for a whole eleven days.
Wait a minute, she’s come to me looking for advice. I’ve made it OUT of the unrequited-zone and she’s looking to me as a paragon! With a sudden clear dawning, Helga felt her sympathy for the girl turn into resolution. There were other girls out there who were like her, and, ok, the people they loved weren’t half as great as Arnold so Helga didn’t really get the appeal—nevertheless! Helga should do what she could for these people.
She snapped the lid back on her tupperware and handed it to Patty. “Boy, I’ve had enough of these. They’re too sweet for me, but I heard Harold complaining to Teri he didn’t get enough. Don’t you have photography or something with him later?”
Patty stared down at the tupperware, then took it gently. She eyed Helga. “You sure?”
“Positive. I’m full up.” Helga patted her stomach. “So’s Arnold. Right, Arnold?”
Behind her, Arnold said, “Uh…yes? I’m full?”
“Ok. Thanks, Helga,” Patty said, and smiled a little.
“Oh good! This is where you are!” said Lila, rounding the corner then. She looked around at them. “Are we all meeting in the stacks now?”
“Not officially. What’s up, Lila?” Arnold asked.
“Mickey is here.” Lila turned back and Helga blinked. There was no one there. Then a shadow blinked and Helga jolted.
“Criminy, what the hell?” she asked as a person stepped into the light. He was short and thin, with a big nose and beady eyes. His sweatshirt hood was pulled up around his face, casting a shadow across his weasley smile.
“Hey, Mickey,” Arnold greeted, unsurprised. “Got something for me?”
Mickey, the tail for hire, pulled a stack of paper from behind his back, along with a sealed manila envelope. “Lunch lists until Christmas. Info on Sophomores failing any class. And the blackmail on Yolanda Ryder you wanted me to get back from P.T. Kazinsky’s locker.”
Arnold took the papers. “Thanks, Mickey. Lila, can you pay him from the treasury? The usual fare.”
“Of course, Arnold.”
“Also, I got word of something else you might be interested in,” Mickey added, pulling another paper from behind him, “Eugene Horowitz’s cast list for the Christmas special, which he won’t be posting until tomorrow morning.”
Patty brightened. “Really?”
Lila clapped her hands. “Oh, already! Are Patty and I on it?”
The two girls leaned over the list, then Patty settled back and Lila patted her arm. “Patty, I’m so sorry! I know your audition was just wonderful!”
“Yeah, it’s ok. I knew I wasn’t Eugene’s idea of a Christine, anyway. You’ll make a great Phantom of Christmas Past, though, Lila.” Patty turned to Helga. “And congratulations to you, Helga.”
“What for?” Helga replied blankly.
“You’re cast as Ebenezer Scrooge,” Lila said, then put a hand to her lips. “Pardon me, I mean Ebeneza.”
“What!” Helga snatched the paper from their hands and found her name on the list: Ebeneza Scrooge—Helga G. Pataki. “I didn’t even audition!”
Arnold was looking over her shoulder. “Oh man, I didn’t think Eugene would actually do it.”
She rounded on him. “You knew about this?”
“I mean, he threatened to have you participate, but I didn’t think he’d cast you without an audition.”
Helga gaped at him and he looked back with a pitying shrug.
“Oh, dear, but I was really looking forward to being in this with you, Patty,” Lila was saying. “And I know you thought it would be fun to hang out with—well, you know who—since he agreed to be a stagehand.”
Helga stopped and turned back to the other girls. “He’s going to be a stagehand? So, like, he’ll be backstage to hang out with the cast at rehearsals and stuff?”
“Who will be backstage?” Arnold asked, looking between the three girls.
“Well, it’s alright, I can find some other way—” Patty started politely, but Helga cut her off.
“Patty, you and I need to see a man about an errant cast list,” Helga said, looping her arm through Patty’s. “That doofball Eugene owes me, so I’m going to pull some strings for you.”
Patty looked embarrassed. “I’m not sure about that, Helga.”
“I insist.” Then Helga turned to Lila. “You’re next, sister.”
Lila looked nervous. “Next for what?”
“True love, obviously! Come on, Patty!” Helga yanked the taller girl out of the book aisle, the cast list clutched in her hand.
Behind her, Mickey turned to Arnold, who watched Helga drag a flustered Patty out of the library.
“You owe me for that list now,” Mickey said, pointing after Helga.
“Alright, you’re a spicy brunette who looks like they enjoy the finer things in life, and you might have an affinity for matching suit pieces,” Gerald said.
“Nope,” Arnold said absently.
Gerald grumbled and flicked down two cards on his Guess Who board.
Arnold sat at the card table in his bedroom with Gerald, mindlessly playing board games while their girlfriends still worked. A few feet away, Phoebe sat on the floor amidst her textbooks. Every once in a while she anxiously glanced up from her calculus homework at Helga. Helga paced the length of Arnold’s room holding Phoebe’s essay in her hand, tapping a red pen against her chin rapidly until she used it to quickly scribble something. Arnold had hoped they would finish studying early and be able to do something more fun together, but when the boys were finishing up, Phoebe had asked Helga for help with the Shakespearean-style short play she was supposed to write and perform to her advanced English class. Arnold knew Helga enjoyed work like that, and had sighed when she metaphorically jumped into it with both feet.
So he sat with his chin in his hand, questioning Gerald about plump ladies with a lot of jewelry and bald men with striped pants, watching Helga’s focused expression as she paced. Every once in a while the pen would slip and bump the pink bruise on her bottom lip and left side of her jaw and she would wince, making Arnold also wince. It was fading now, but when he had seen her on Monday he had been horrified at the purple and blue smear across her jawline and a small scab on her lip. Sid had been spreading the wild tale of Helga’s altercation to any Freshman kid who would listen, and Arnold had seen the younger students eyeing Helga’s battle scars in awe.
Arnold couldn’t believe some random bullies had gone after her and Agatha at the basketball game—and he couldn’t believe he’d barely shown up at the tail end of it. He’d felt guilty about it all week, but no matter what he did he couldn’t get more information out of Helga about it. She had only shrugged it off and rambled about how she hoped they would fall in an endless ditch one day. Then she had told him it wasn’t like she got in fights a lot anymore, or even really enjoyed it, so he didn’t have to worry. Teri and Lenny, and even Moze, knew of the people who had done it, but none of them had known Helga and Agatha in junior high so they didn’t know much. Teri was furious about the whole situation, and Arnold thought he probably felt guilty, too.
Arnold heard a light buzz as Helga paced by, and she stuck the pen between her teeth to pull her phone out. When she looked at the message, her pacing paused. Then she slid the phone back, unanswered, and resumed pacing. He had seen her do that more than once this week, glancing at a text but sliding it under a book or back into her pocket, unanswered. He wondered if it was from someone in her family, then, and that was why she didn’t like answering. He wanted to ask if that was the case—he wanted to talk to her about a lot of things.
Helga finished reading through Phoebe’s work and stalked back to her friend, dropping the papers in her lap. “Ok, Phebes, not bad, I only made a few suggestions for Elizabethean syntax and stuff. Let’s see you perform it.”
Phoebe stood up and cleared her throat and began performing. Helga sat on the couch with her arms and legs crossed and occasionally stopped Phoebe and gave a pointer. On a particularly dramatic line, Helga stood up next to her friend and said, “Like this, Phebes.” The girls shot the line back and forth, becoming increasingly more dramatic.
“Helloooo, earth to Arnold,” Gerald said, snapping his fingers in Arnold’s face for the third time that night.
“Hm? Sorry, is it my turn?” Arnold asked.
“No, I just won.”
“Oh, right.”
Gerald cleared their boards. “Man, why did you even invite me and Phoebe tonight? You clearly want to hang out with Helga alone.”
Arnold shrugged, not feeling like explaining why yesterday he had hurriedly invited Gerald and Phoebe over to his place, after he had already lied to Helga and said they were coming. “I thought it would be fun for all of us to hang out. We haven’t done that since Helga came back.”
“Right, m’hmm. But you’re just spending the night over here with me, staring at Helga like she’s a saint who won the Nobel Peace Prize.”
“So? I had to put up with you looking at Phoebe like that for years.”
“Hey, Phoebe will absolutely win a Pulitzer one day! My girl’s a genius.”
They both laughed. Gerald leaned against the wall in his seat like Arnold, both of them facing the girls on the other side of the room. Helga was grabbing the remote that controlled the lights, hitting a few buttons until a spotlight dropped down; then she made Phoebe stand in it and start from the beginning.
There was something about the moment that felt nice to Arnold. Gerald and Phoebe being over on a Friday wasn’t unusual, and often there would be several other friends over, too. Having Helga there was almost normal. He hadn’t forgotten what Moze had said; that he and Helga clearly had a history. And Arnold liked that it was a history deeper than anyone outside his own neighborhood would know. Now that Helga had so easily slipped back into the group, back into his life, it felt right. Like something had been missing and Arnold hadn’t realized what it was until right now.
Gerald was snapping in his face again.
“What?” Arnold asked.
“I said, I’m happy to hang out, but if you wanted to hang out with just Helga that would have been fine, too. It’s a Friday night—you could have even done something crazy.” He spread his hands. “Like, oh, I dunno, go on a date with your own girlfriend?”
A date sounded lovely. Arnold could picture him and Helga riding the ferris wheel on the dock or admiring the butterflies at the botanical garden. He smiled at the thought and reminded himself to add it to the list he had started. “I will soon. I’m not in a hurry, though. Besides, you know Helga.”
“Jumpy as a spring rabbit?” Gerald offered.
“Spring rabbit? Did you get that from Stinky?”
“Probably.”
“But, yes. I want her to be comfortable dating me.”
“You think she’s uncomfortable? She told almost everyone in school she’s in love with you, man.”
“Well, I mean, she likes me, but I think she’s still…I dunno. Uncertain?”
“Insane?” Gerald offered, then added, “Pleasantly, I mean.”
“Unsure, I think. She likes me, but I’m not sure she totally trusts me, yet.”
“What? You’re the most trustworthy guy I know. Did you tell her you were dating on like a probationary basis or something?”
“As if I’d do that. But before two months ago we hadn’t seen each other for seven years, so maybe it’s just that we’re settling back into our old relationship. Or a new one. Either way, I’m taking it easy for now.”
Gerald nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Well, when you’re ready to bump it up to double dates, me and Phoebe will be down.”
“I was already thinking, Christmas lights downtown after Thanksgiving?”
“Ooh, yeah! I can see us now, all bundled up and cozy.” Then Gerald went stiff as board. “Oh, man.”
“What?”
“Christmas!” He leaned toward Arnold in a panic. “What do I get Phoebe?”
Arnold’s own panic rose. He had a girlfriend now. A complicated one, who didn’t like things on the cheap. “What do I get Helga?”
Both boys lapsed into silence.
Gerald started, “You know what we need first—”
“—is money,” Arnold finished.
During the summer, Arnold had helped out at the grocers down the street for a few hours a week, but they had only needed help during the busy summer season. He and Gerald always helped out Ms. Vitello at the flower shop when she needed it, but that was usually only before Valentine’s Day or Mother’s Day.
“You hear of any holiday jobs that might have hours?” Arnold asked.
Gerald rubbed his chin. “I’ll have to look into it. I know shops at the mall are always desperate this time of year. And I heard Ellie Wright made three thousand bucks before Christmas last year at that new perfume parlor over by all those fancy boutiques, but money like that takes crazy hours and you’ll always smell like a perfume bomb went off on you.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I have time for that with everything else.”
“Me neither, not until basketball is over. Well, let me ask my man Fuzzy Slippers, he’s always got his ear to the ground. I’m sure we can find something for a couple weekends before the holidays.”
They turned as Helga suddenly said loudly, “Make haste, mine fine lady, make haste ‘ere the moon rises and the dews have lost the night to the dawn!” She let her arm fall across her eyes. Then she abruptly straightened. “Like that, Phoebe.”
Phoebe clapped.
“Looking good, Helga,” Gerald said, “you’ll steal the show at the Christmas pageant.”
Helga scowled at him, and Arnold knew it was a sore subject. She had begged and threatened Eugene to drop her from the play, but he had refused, saying it was impossible now that the cast list had been leaked (“How would it look for me as a director to go back on my word before it’s even public? Don’t worry, Helga, you fit the old crotchety Ebeneza perfectly!”)
Eugene had, at least, made Patty an understudy for Christine Daae, which Helga had required in exchange for any amount of participation from her.
“Oh, yes!” Phoebe agreed. “Helga has always had a flair for the dramatic arts!”
“Are you saying I’m melodramatic?” Helga asked snidely.
Arnold noticed that Phoebe ignored the question. Instead Phoebe said, “You should have seen her as the Mother Goose in her sixth grade play. Such finesse in that big goose costume, even with the bonnet always slipping over her eyes!”
Gerald slapped a hand on the card table. “Pictures or it didn’t happen!”
“Oh, it happened,” Arnold said, “I’ve seen the pictures.”
Helga rounded on him, cheeks going pink. “What? How? Why?” Her head whipped in Phoebe’s direction. “Phoebe!”
“He asked if I had any pictures of the play, so I showed him,” Phoebe replied innocently.
“I wanted to see them because I had missed seeing it in person,” Arnold said.
Helga was still glaring at Phoebe. “Why would he ask about that when he was never meant to know about it or see any evidence from it?”
Phoebe said, “Don’t worry, that’s why I didn’t tell him about it beforehand.”
“Wait, Phoebe, you didn’t invite me on purpose?” Arnold asked.
She adjusted her glasses. “Certainly. There was a slim chance you might actually want to go, and I thought Helga would not have liked that.”
“Yeah, ha, no ,” Helga said. “Not that he would have shown up all the way across town just to see me in some dumb play, anyway.”
Arnold shrugged. “Well, I hadn’t seen you in like a year and a half at that point. So I definitely would have come to see it.”
Helga’s embarrassed, stupefied face rounded on him again. “What? Why?”
Arnold smiled at her. “I missed you.”
Helga scoffed. “Now you’re just making fun of me!”
“No, I’m not. I really would have come to see your play.” He smiled steadily back at her red-faced glare.
Gerald said, “Anyway, Phoebe the next time I’m at your place, I totally want to see those pictures.”
“Phoebe,” Helga started, “You had better burn those pictures.”
“Oh look at the time,” Phoebe suddenly said, “I’d better start heading home.”
“Phoebe!”
“Helga, you’d better head home, too. You don’t want to get stuck on the bus too late.”
Helga glanced at the clock. It was just after eleven. “Ugh, fine.”
“No need, Helga. I’ll give you a ride,” Arnold said.
“Bus is cheaper than gas,” she replied.
“I don’t mind driving.”
“Well. Fine, but only if it’s no trouble.”
“It isn’t.”
His friends started packing up their things, and Arnold hurried downstairs to ask his grandfather for the car. He only found Holly and Suzie in the kitchen, laughing over glasses of red wine.
“Have you seen Grandpa?” he asked them.
“He went to the store to pick up milk and cheetos,” Suzie said.
“Did he take the car?”
“Of course.”
Dang it. Arnold checked the garage just in case, but sure enough the Packard was missing. He returned to the foyer as his friends were coming downstairs. Embarrassed, Arnold said, “Sorry, Helga. It looks like my Grandpa took the car to the store.”
“Well, that’s alright, I can take the bus,” she said, unbothered.
Arnold did not feel like it was alright. In the car it would only take twenty minutes to get to her house, but on the bus it would take fifty-five. But beyond that, he didn’t like the thought of her riding the bus alone so late. There were weird and sometimes bad people in this town—and one of them had punched her in the face only a few days ago.
“I’ll ride the bus with you,” he said.
She looked at him like he was crazy. “What, why would you do that? That’d be stupid, then you’d have to ride it back.”
“That’s ok. I don’t mind.”
“Seriously, you don’t have to go out of your way. I’m a big girl.”
He pulled his jacket on anyway.
Helga watched him with a deadpan look. “Arnold, if you try to get on the bus with me, I will have to knock you out.”
“Well, I’m at least going to walk you to the bus stop. You can’t stop me from doing that.”
She paused, looking like she might try. He gave her a look to know he wasn’t backing down, so she conceded, “Alright, I guess it’s a free country.”
He hadn’t really won any part of this argument—the bus stop was barely a block down the road. Gerald and Phoebe were quietly giggling at him and he glared at them as he opened the door.
He froze when he saw the bulking, muscly form of Harold taking up the doorway.
“Harold?” he asked dumbly.
The large boy burst out, “Arnold, you’ll never believe it! Wilson texted me that el Tigre texted him that Maria said Rhonda was seen at the movie theater tonight with some guy. Some guy, Arnold! It’s been less than two weeks since we broke up! Can you believe that?”
Arnold gaped at him, only spurred into action when tears sprung up in Harold’s eyes. Arnold said, “Oh, I’m…sorry to hear that, Harold.”
Then Helga pushed past him onto the front step. “Harold, my man, just the guy I wanted to see! I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”
“Oh, no, what is it now?” Harold moaned.
“Nothing to be crying about. Come on, beef cake, walk me to the bus stop.”
“You want Harold to walk you to the bus stop?” Arnold said at the same time Harold said, “What, why do I have to?”
“Yeah, I needed to talk to him, anyway. Now you don’t have to worry about it,” she said to Arnold with a smile.
“That’s not the point—” Arnold started, but Helga was already pushing Harold down the stairs ahead of her.
“I’ll see you later, Arnold,” she said. Then she paused and turned back to him. “And I’ll even text you when I get home.”
He stared as she gave him a finger gun and a wink. Then she pulled Harold down the sidewalk.
“Are you gonna yell at me for something?” Harold whined. “I have to warn you, I’m emotionally very vulnerable right now.”
“I’m not gonna yell at you, ya numpty,” Helga replied.
Phoebe and Gerald stepped outside next. Gerald paused in adjusting his jacket to give Arnold a sympathetic pat. “That didn’t work out quite right, did it,” he said with a chuckle. “Jumpy as a spring rabbit.”
“Be patient, Arnold,” Phoebe added, patting his arm.
Arnold sighed, watching Gerald and Phoebe walk off, holding hands. Then he turned to watch Helga and Harold walking beneath the streetlamps to the bus sign. He leaned against the doorway, the chilly November night air gently blowing against him.
Helga and Harold stood at the bus stop for several minutes. They were too far for him to see their faces, but Arnold watched the whole time, wondering what they could possibly be talking about that was more important than Arnold walking his own girlfriend out. Then the bus rolled by and Harold scratched his head and lumbered off. Arnold was glad when Helga looked back his way and saw him standing on the front step still. He waved and she returned it, and then she got on the bus and it pulled away. He was mildly surprised by the knot in his stomach, which he knew would be there for the next hour until he got a home safe text from her. He was a lousy boyfriend for sending her away like that. Dang. He wished he had his own car.
A minute later, his grandfather came whistling around the corner. A jug of milk and a bag of chips were in his hand and he was swinging the car keys around a finger.
Arnold crossed his arms. “And just where have you been?”
Phil paused, one foot on the front step. “What are you, my dad now? I can stay out as late as I wanna!”
Arnold rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let his grandfather inside.
He turned down Phil’s offer of a glass of milk with a bowl of cheetos and headed back upstairs, pulling his phone out. Gerald answered the phone, “Did you miss me already?”
“Who should I talk to about getting that perfume parlor job?” Arnold asked.
“Why, you suddenly decide that three thousand bucks in only six weeks sounds too good to pass up?”
“Yes. I did.”
Helga rode the night bus along with three loud boys whose pants didn’t seem able to stay up and a hairy old man who was muttering to himself and scratching suspiciously. The bus driver kept snorting and coughing wetly.
What a lovely night, Helga thought, sighing to herself. She had loved sitting around Arnold’s room that evening with Gerald and Phoebe, doing nothing important. Something about it had felt so normal. So run-of-the-mill, unremarkable, typical. Comfortable. An ordinary girlfriend at her boyfriend’s house with her friends on an ordinary Friday. A picture of ordinary, everyday bliss.
I could get used to this. No—she would get used to this. Maybe it would become a regular thing. Maybe the lovely riders of this night bus would become her fellow journeymen on her nightly travels home from Arnold’s house.
She hoped Arnold had also enjoyed her being there. She hoped she had behaved herself and not bothered him. She hoped she could hang out with him a lot more—maybe even alone, if he wanted. In her head, Arnold had always been an anchor point for her reality, but she knew that wasn’t true for him. She had only been the mean neighbor girl. Now he liked having her around, but she knew becoming an ordinary part of his life, a background fixture (if not an anchor point), would take some time.
With a little smile, she propped her head against the window. The blurred street lights danced across the dirty glass like a ballet, in shades of yellow and green and blue and red.
When the bus neared her street, she perked up, pulling her phone out and holding it in her hand. She would get to text Arnold soon.
Hoping off the bus, she glided the rest of the way to her front door, unlocked it, and walked in. She entered the living room, typing on her phone and calling absently, “I’m home!”
It was a courtesy; she wasn’t sure if her parents were even home, and even when they were they might not notice if she was gone or back. So she was surprised when she heard a response from the kitchen, “Hey, honey, welcome back.”
The familiar smooth voice made her blood freeze. She stopped halfway through the living room and turned her head toward the kitchen.
There was a tall boy leaning over the counter, Miriam’s frilly pink apron tied around his waist. He was lean in his black shirt, and his black hair was cut short on the sides, the curls on top cascading down his forehead to his long eyelashes and light brown eyes. He smiled at her with a lopsided smirk on his handsome face, the deep dimple in his left cheek showing.
“Angelo,” Helga said.
“Long time no see, Helga,” he replied.
He was almost the spitting image of his older brother, Danny DeMarco, who hung in the proudly displayed family photos on the wall beside Olga and their son, Danny Jr. The only difference was that Danny had two dimples when he smiled, and he wasn’t soulless.
“Who are you texting there?” Angelo asked, nodding toward the phone in her hand. “Is it me?”
Helga pushed her phone in her pocket.
“You’re not very good at texting back, are you?” Angelo cocked his head, raising a dark eyebrow.
Helga didn’t answer. Angelo kept smiling, then he paused and his smile dropped.
“What happened to your face?” he asked.
“Tch. Did you think I’d let Agatha get hit instead?”
An icy edge entered his smooth voice. “Oh? Was it Jerry and his baboons? Now, now. They should know better than to hit you.”
Helga wanted that asshole Jerry and his friends to pay for harassing Agatha, but saying anything now could be bad. So she stayed silent.
“Oof, what a glare,” Angelo said, his smile returning. “I missed your face.”
Then Miriam came loudly around the corner, a photobook in her hand, “I found iiiiit! Oh, boy, wasn’t easy. It was deeeep in the attic. Oh, hi, Helga! Look, it’s Angelo!” Miriam passed Helga with a bright smile and joined Angelo in the kitchen. “Angelo got back in town last week, can you believe it? He’s staying at his aunt’s again! Olga told me he might come by sometime, but he hasn’t until now. Isn’t that silly of him?”
“So silly!” Angelo agreed as he and Miriam jovially patted each other on the back.
“You should have called and let me know yourself, Angelo. We’re family! You’re always welcome to reach out.”
“Oh, I know. I texted.” He turned his pretty dimple to Helga again.
“Did you?” Miriam said, adjusting her glasses. “Well, you know, maybe I missed it! I’m still getting used to these darn fancy cellphones Big Bob sells. Anyway, we sure missed having you around. Isn’t it nice to see Angelo again, Helga?” Miriam and Angelo smiled at Helga expectantly.
Helga looked from her mother to the young man who had his arm around her. “Yeah. It’s great.”
Miriam picked up a tall glass full of bright pink smoothie and brought it to Helga. “We’re making midnight smoothies, Helga! Have some!”
“Ah ah!” Angelo said, quickly taking the glass from Miriam before she reached Helga. “Helga’s allergic to strawberries.”
“Oh, ha, I know!” Miriam said, laughing awkwardly. “I forgot we put those in there. How sweet of you to remember, Angelo. You two always were two peas in a pod.”
Angelo took a sip of the smoothie, looking at Helga again.
“Well, uh. It’s late, actually. I’m headed to bed,” Helga said.
“Alrighty, Helga! You’ll have to hang out with Angelo another time. Nighty night!” Miriam called, flipping open the photobook she had brought. “Here we go, the photos from our summer vacation to the cabin. Aw, look, you and Helga were so short! You must be as tall as Bob, now, Angelo.”
Angelo was still smiling at Helga. “Night, Helga.”
“Yeah. Night.” Helga left the living room, Miriam and Angelo’s voices following her down the hallway.
She clicked her bedroom door shut quietly and set her backpack down gently, as if doing so would keep anyone in the house from knowing she was there. Then she lay down on her bed, her arm over her eyes.
Then her phone rang. It was Arnold. Damnit, she’d forgotten to finish texting him. “Hello?”
“Hey, Helga,” Arnold’s voice said in her ear. “Sorry, uh, I guess I didn’t have to call. I was only checking that you got home safe?”
“Yeah,” she replied, “sorry, I meant to text you. I…got distracted. By my family.”
“No, it’s ok, I just thought, you know, it’d been like an hour and fifteen minutes, so…”
“Sorry.” Had she made him worry unnecessarily?
“It’s ok! Really, I only wanted—”
Helga didn’t hear what else he said when his grandfather said loudly in the background, “Arnold, who are you talking to so late? Oh, is it your girlfriend?”
“Grandpa,” Arnold hissed.
“Tell her I say hi!” Phil said.
“I’m not going to tell her that you say hi.”
“Tell her I say hi!” Came Mr. Hyunh’s voice then.
“No, be quiet both of you,” Arnold said distantly, then closer to Helga’s ear, “Sorry, Helga.”
“Sheesh, touchy,” Phil said. “If you don’t want everyone to overhear, then why are you calling her while we’re all in line for the bathroom?”
“Grandpa!”
Helga smiled, her mood brightening at Arnold’s bright voice. “Wow, chuckles, the bathroom line? How romantic of you. Tell them I say hi.”
Arnold sighed, then said, “She says hi.”
“Hiya, Helga! You sick of Arnold yet?” Phil asked.
“Hello!” Mr. Hyunh said. “When are you coming to visit again?”
“She was here today,” Arnold replied.
“What! Why did you not let her say hello to everyone? Very selfish of you, Arnold,” Mr. Hyunh said.
Phil cackled in the background. Then his grandmother came by singing and Phil told her to be quiet, Arnold was having an important conversation with his lover. Arnold sighed again.
Helga laughed softly and rolled onto her side toward the wall, cradling the phone to her ear. She smiled as she listened to Arnold and his family banter, louder in her ear than the voices floating down the hall in her own house.
Chapter 13: Eau de l'Étreinte
Chapter Text
“Alright, Arnold. Je suis prête!” Rhonda said, flouncing into the chair.
“Certainly, mademoiselle. Is there a specific occasion you’re looking for a scent for?” Arnold asked, his hands behind his back.
“I need a new daily signature scent. The old one was attached to, well, an old flame, let’s say that. I need something dignified, not too strong, and mixes well with my chemistry. Oh, and nothing with alcohol, obviously.”
“Don’t worry, mademoiselle, all of our fragrances are naturally sourced and alcohol free. Do you prefer floral or fruity scents?”
“Neither. Something bright and luxurious. No musk.”
“Of course.” He spotted his manager hovering nearby, a very short woman with graying hair in a twisted bun on top of her head. She eyed him so he added, “Of course, mademoiselle,” and his manager gave him a thumbs up.
His manager moved on past his “fragrance station” through the perfume salon, where several of his coworkers had clients of their own at their tables. The boutique was brightly lit, with vintage black and white checkered floors and antique green shelves, lined with LED lights to make the crystal perfume bottles shine. The fragrance specialists, or so Arnold’s sales associate position was pretentiously called, wore black shoes, black pants, and black button up shirts, with forest green aprons around their waists that matched the shelves lining the room. Arnold had his apron pockets full of paper sampling strips, coupons, and tissues for when a customer was unexpectedly allergic to a scent and started sneezing. The high table at his station displayed a range of perfumes and colognes, and two flute glasses of coffee beans.
He offered several samples to Rhonda, who hated all of them and asked if he had anything that smelled less cliché. He forced a smile and said, “Of course, mademoiselle. One moment.”
He went into the back room and grabbed three of their expensive “exclusive” items (which was really a sales tactic, for customers like Rhonda) and brought them out for Rhonda.
Smelling them all several times, sniffing the coffee grounds daintily in between, Rhonda said, “Oh, Arnold, tu l’as fait! These are all lovely. Which one do you think is more likely for a young gentleman to prefer on me?”
A young gentleman? The rumors were true, then! Several people at school had seen Rhonda out with some new handsome guy, who apparently didn’t go to Hillwood High. Arnold felt bad he would have to confirm the rumors to Harold. “I think any of them would wear well on you, mademoiselle. Does the gentleman have a preference?”
“Let’s just say money is not a problem for him, and you can assume he has been around plenty of girls with too much of last season’s fragrances on them.”
So she didn’t have any idea. With a grand smile, Arnold gestured to the most expensive of the perfumes he had brought out. The liquid inside carried small flecks of shimmering gold. “Then might I suggest L’Élixir d’Or? We are the only boutique outside of Paris that carries this new scent from Jolie + Divinité, and it would accentuate your natural luxurious essence so well.”
Rhonda pretended to think about it, tapping her chin with a red fingernail. “You know, I think you’re right—he’ll love it.”
“Of course, mademoiselle, I’ll package it for you right away. And is this all, or would you like to pair it with an evening scent?”
“Oh, of course you’re right. I do need a new evening scent.”
He repeated the process a second time, and by the end talked Rhonda into two perfumes, plus an extra perfume for her mother, a cologne for her father, and a sample size for Nadine, all for Christmas. He rang her up and handed her the checkered paper bag with their gold Parfume d’A shop logo on it. Rhonda added it to the collection of shopping bags already in her hand.
“Lovely to see you, Arnold,” Rhonda said, donning her fur lined coat. Arnold knew it was fake fur—Nadine had run an animal rights campaign in ninth grade and guilted Rhonda into participating. Rhonda winked at him. “Sarah Xanthe was right when she said there was a good-looking new expert working here. I’ll spread the word about your excellent services.”
“Thanks, Rhonda.” His manager passed by. “Thank you, mademoiselle.”
“Ta ta, Arnold! See you at school!” Then Rhonda whisked out of the room boutique, her heels clacking on the tile.
“You know,” said Arnold’s coworker, Mimi, coming over to him, “you’re infuriatingly good at this for only having worked here two weeks. How’d you come up with this act?”
Arnold chuckled, straightening up his table. “It’s not an act. I’m just polite.”
Another girl, DeeDee, popped over too, batting her eyelashes at him. “What you mean to say is that you’re just naturally handsome and charming and make people feel special. Women love to buy expensive things from suave young men who are good at flirting.”
“I don’t flirt.”
“No? This is just how you are? Infuriating.” DeeDee sighed with a smile.
“Don’t say that too loud near Ji-ho,” Mimi whispered. All three of them glanced over to their coworker across the salon. The only other boy on staff, a handsome brunette with a diamond earring, was ringing up his own client. “He’s been furious ever since you were hired.”
Ji-ho felt them staring and narrowed his eyes at Arnold. The three turned away.
Arnold whispered, “It’s not like I take his clients, there are plenty to go around. Besides, I’m only a seasonal worker.”
“Doesn’t matter—if you keep doing this well, you’ll get a reputation,” Mimi said. “And then when you leave after Christmas, people might come in and ask for you specifically, and that’s what will piss him off.”
Arnold huffed at the other boy’s competitiveness, running a hand through his hair. The cold day had warmed up in the afternoon somewhat, so Arnold unbuttoned the top button on his shirt and rolled up his shirt sleeves.
“Keep doing that,” DeeDee said, watching him with her chin in both her hands, “and you’ll really piss him off.”
The door chimed and they turned to greet the new customers. Arnold did a double-take when he realized it was Helga and Phoebe. He stared.
They were dressed to the nines like he had never seen before. Phoebe’s shoulder length hair was out of its usual messy bun, blown out in a perfect bob; her blue dress with a pencil skirt accented the fuzzy white coat she wore. She had swapped out her usual round glasses for red cat-eye frames that matched the red purse on her elbow.
Beside her, Helga was in a black mock neck, black cigarette pants, and pointed, black sling-back shoes. A hot pink tweed coat rested over her shoulders, which perfectly matched the sparkly pink clutch in her hand. Her long blonde hair was pulled up and pinned in a french twist, and shiny diamond stud earrings glinted on her ears. Large black sunglasses sat on her nose over her red lips, which were currently smirking at him. She pulled her sunglasses down slightly and looked him up and down. It was in the same way many of his customers looked at him (even the elderly ones—or maybe especially them), but when Helga did it, it made Arnold a little nervous.
Arnold was so caught off guard, Ji-ho beat him to greet the young ladies at the door.
“Welcome, mademoiselles,” Ji-ho said smoothly. “May I help you?”
“Oh, we’re just seein’ what you got,” Helga replied. “Heard this was the only parfumerie in town worth visiting and thought we’d decide if the hype was for real.”
“You’ve heard correctly! We are for real. I would be happy to assist such lovely ladies.” He offered his hand toward Helga.
Arnold crossed the boutique in lightning fast strides, coming up beside Ji-ho.
“I’ll help you, Ji-ho.” Arnold put his hand out to Helga. “May I?”
Helga stepped past Ji-ho to slip her hand into Arnold’s. Ji-ho shot him a dirty glare, which Arnold ignored, although he felt bad that this was definitely going to make his coworker hate him even more. Arnold brought Helga back to his station, and Ji-ho took Phoebe to his. Arnold held the chair steady as Helga sat and crossed her legs, leaning on the armrest. The chairs were tall salon style chairs, so when she took her sunglasses off her eyes were on level with him. Her yellowing bruise was barely visible beneath a thin layer of powder.
“Well, garçon, what have you got for me?” she said, propping an elbow on the armrest, her hand in the air like some of the rich women he’d seen come through. Her nails were painted redder than Rhonda’s had been.
Amused, he asked, “What are you looking for, mademoiselle?” The title made her smirk widen, which he knew it would.
“Oh, I don’t know. How about a little something that will work as a Christmas gift for my dear mama?”
“Certainly. Do you have anything particular in mind?”
She waved her hand magnanimously. “Whatever you’ve got that’s cheap is fine. I honestly don’t think she’ll know the difference.”
“Right away, mademoiselle,” he said very seriously, which made her snort a laugh. She tried to hide it and he stepped away to bring her a few clearance options that her mother might like.
He returned with the perfumes. Her hand was in her chin now, leaning over the armrest to watch him walk back, swinging the chair side to side lightly. He could feel her gaze following him as he lined up the options on his table.
“So, garçon, have you worked here long?” she asked.
“No, not long, mademoiselle.”
“How’s it treating you?”
“Very well, mademoiselle.”
“Good, good.”
The pay and commissions were good, so he supposed it really was treating him well, even if it did make him even more busy. Really, he would have preferred not to give himself another extra thing to do every day; he would rather be playing rich-shopper with Helga in a fun outfit instead of serving her. Busy all day at school, basketball practice every day and games on the weekends, working at the boutique after practice and all day Sundays, getting home late, homework, bed. But six weeks—he could do it if it was only for six more weeks. Then he’d take her on whatever dates she wanted and make sure she always got home safe. Which was what he had secretly thought to himself last week when she had gaped at him and told him he was insane for getting a job at the busiest time of year on top of all of his other responsibilities.
“I got you out of detention so you would have more time to relax, not so you would have more time to work more!” she had said in that conversation.
He had replied, “It’s fine, it’s only until Christmas. When I’m done, we can go somewhere fancy to celebrate. My treat.”
She had only looked at him like he was crazy, then thrown her hands in the air and said, “I knew you were a busybody but I didn’t realize you were a workaholic!”
Now that she was sitting in his salon chair, he wondered if she was still thinking he was crazy. He hoped she had forgiven him for becoming even more busy as soon as they had started dating.
She sat back in the chair, swirling the champagne glass of coffee grounds while he showed her the samples he had brought her. Two of them she immediately wrinkled her nose at, but the last two she didn’t mind.
She chewed on the end of her sunglasses, looking between the bottles, before pointing at one. “This one. The bottle’s fancier. She’ll like that.”
He smiled at that reasoning. “Excellent choice.”
“Great, that takes care of Miriam, then.” She looked up at him with a smirk again. “Have any you think my boyfriend might like on me?”
He smirked back. “Well, what’s your boyfriend like?”
“Oh, you know. Handsome, nice, a workaholic…”
“Sounds like quite the guy.”
“He is.” Then she surprised him by leaning forward and running a red-tipped finger from his apron at his waist up to the center of his chest. “You’re more handsome though. Don’t tell my boyfriend.”
A little jolt shot through him beneath her finger and caused a heat to rise all the way up his neck to redden his face. Her teasing smile didn’t seem at all bothered—or aware—that there were other people around. It seemed her little game was giving her some confidence. Interesting.
“So what do you recommend?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. She was still sitting forward in her chair so he couldn’t move away easily. Her blue eyes, lined with sharp black eyeliner, twinkled with laughter as he shuffled sideways past her. He managed to reach behind him to lift two crystal bottles from the back of his display, setting them down in front of her.
She raised her eyebrows at them. “Well, you had those picked out and ready to go, didn’t you?”
Her distraction allowed him to compose himself. “They’re just my personal favorites.”
“Is that so? Alright, you’re the professional, so if you like them I’ll get one. Which one should I get?”
He picked up the little amber bottle. “Eau de l'Étreinte. I think it would suit a lady like you well.”
She eyed the bottle. “Lady like me, hm?”
He took her hand and turned it over, spritzing her wrist lightly. She leaned forward and sniffed it. “Oh. That’s…really nice,” she said, more demure than she had been moments ago.
“I thought you might like it.”
“O’du letrant?” she repeated, butchering the French.
“Eau de l'Étreinte,” he said. He braced his free hand against the back of the chair, leaning toward her until she had to lean back. He dropped his voice low, “It means the embrace.”
Her face flushed pink.
Got you, he thought. He continued, “I’m sure your boyfriend would love this one on you. Although if he doesn’t, you can come see me again. I would be happy to take any complaints you have personally . Mademoiselle.”
He turned her hand over and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, watching her face burn even redder.
Trying not to laugh, he straightened. “Shall I package these for you?”
“Oh, er, mm-hm, yes. Ahem. Do that.” She fumbled putting her sunglasses back on, only partially able to hide her blushing cheeks behind them.
Arnold led her to the payment counter, fetching fresh boxed versions of the perfumes she had picked. Phoebe was already there, buying two small sample bottles while Ji-ho rang her up. Arnold handed Helga her checkered bag, but when she was handing him money he was already printing her receipt.
She looked between the bag and him, then put a hand on her hip. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
He leaned his hands on the counter. “Too late. I already did it.”
“They were expensive.”
“I get a discount.”
She tapped her foot, staring him down from behind her shades. He merely smiled back.
Then Phoebe returned to the counter. “Come on, Helga. We’ll be late for our lunch reservation at La Reya.”
“Ah, you guys are going to La Reya now?” Arnold asked. It was the nice little Mexican restaurant down the street, where Gerald was waiting tables on the weekends now. So the girls had a whole Sunday afternoon planned for harassing their boyfriends at work, did they? He wished he could watch them give Gerald a hard time. “Tell Gerald I say hi.”
“Will do!” Phoebe said, pulling Helga away from the counter.
Helga pointed two fingers at her shades, then at Arnold. He chuckled. Phoebe pulled her through the boutique to the door and the bell jingled as they left. Arnold watched them pass by the glass window, feeling disappointed when Helga disappeared.
Only five weeks and six days left, he thought. He reminded himself it would be worth it. It had to be.
When he headed back to his station, he noticed that his coworkers and their clients were staring at him with wide eyes.
“So that’s what it looks like when you flirt,” Mimi said.
“You said you had a girlfriend!” DeeDee said in an outrage. “So how come you’ll flirt with that random girl and no one else!”
An elderly woman sitting at a nearby station said to her attendant, “Can I work with him?”
Ji-ho threw a handful of sample papers on the ground in a furious flurry.
Helga walked in the door of her house with her hands full of shopping bags. Her mother was in the kitchen, as usual, and she wasn’t surprised to see Angelo lounging on the couch. He came over a few times a week now, and Miriam and Bob kept telling him it was so good to see him and he was always welcome. He had a newspaper in his hand and a red sucker in his mouth.
With a glance at her outfit he asked, “Did you go to breakfast at Tiffany’s without me? Honey, I’m hurt.”
“I don’t think your teeth could have handled the diamonds, DeMarco,” she said. She crossed the living room.
“Where did you go shopping?” he said, eyeing her bags.
“At the shops.”
“Who were you with?”
“No one.”
“Oh, really?”
“How am I supposed to Christmas shop for gifts when there are people around?” Actually, other than the perfume for her mother, Helga hadn’t done any other Christmas shopping. She’d gotten a little carried away buying herself new clothes and earrings, wondering if Arnold would like them.
“Wow, you’re getting a head start this year. Thanksgiving isn’t even until next week. What did you get me?”
“A shock collar.”
Angelo threw his head back and laughed. “What a coincidence! That’s what I got you.”
“Oh, ah ha, you two!” Miriam said from the kitchen. “It’s so nice to see you hanging out again. I feel like it’s been ages.”
It’s been ages for a reason, Miriam, Helga thought.
“Did you get something for your cute little boyfriend?” Miriam asked.
Angelo pulled the sucker out of his mouth. “Boyfriend?”
Helga glanced at her mother. Shit, shit, shit, how does she know? Helga definitely hadn’t mentioned to her parents that she was dating Arnold. She might have worked up to it sooner if Angelo hadn’t shown up again. Angelo did not and should not mix with anyone in Helga’s life outside of her family, and even that hadn’t been by her choice—he had come along as part of the package deal when Danny and Olga had started dating. And by the time Helga had decided he was trouble, she was a few years too late.
“Helga’s seeing a very nice young man!” Miriam explained, to Helga’s horror. “Helga, you should introduce Angelo to Moze, I bet they’d be friends!”
Helga’s heart stopped constricting so hard. Sometimes it was good that her mother wasn’t very observant. “Mom, I’m not dating Moze.”
“You’re not? But I thought you had such a good time with him at the dance! He’s so nice.”
“He is nice, but I’m not dating him.”
“Well, alright. You know best, sweetie. I just thought it’d be nice for you to get mixed up in your first romance. You might like it if you give it a chance, Helga!” Miriam tossed a handful of mixed greens into the blender and turned it on.
In the drowning sound of the blender, Helga headed to her room. Angelo folded the newspaper and stood, leaning against the back of the couch. Which put him right in her path as she attempted to pass.
He said beneath the blender’s sound so Miriam didn’t hear, “So no boyfriend? I admit, I would have been shocked. Didn’t we say we’d never get married or get stuck in dead-end jobs, and instead we’d take the world for all it was worth?”
“People grow up,” she replied.
He smiled. The red sucker made the inside of his lips redder, like he was a blood sucking vampire. “I can’t picture you with a guy.”
The way he said it made her defenses jump up. In the back of her head she knew it was on purpose, but she couldn’t help snapping, “Shows what you know. I see all the lack of stimulation in that small town has made your brain soft.”
“Touchy, touchy. So, what, is there a guy for real? Who?”
“Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. Didn’t I tell you my life is none of your business anymore?”
He mulled the sucker around in his mouth, his icy eyes suddenly icy, looking down his nose at her. But she knew his face too well. She’d hit a sore spot; the one she herself had created years ago. But feeling bad for him wouldn’t be a good idea. Anger and pity were his two favorite emotions to draw out of a person.
Then his face turned puzzled, which caught her off guard. He leaned toward her and sniffed, his nose wrinkling. “What’s that smell? Honey, it’s not you.”
She snarled at him, glad she hadn’t allowed any pity to latch onto her.
“What? Don’t you want to know when you smell bad?” he asked. He handed the newspaper in his hand to her. “Thought you’d like to see what’s in the paper today.”
Then he walked past her into the kitchen, asking if he could help Miriam start dinner.
Helga looked down at the newspaper. He had folded it to a story with a photograph, the title reading Teens Run Car Into Police Vehicle. In the picture was a handcuffed and bleeding Jerry, Gemma, Barney, and Michael.
“Heads or tails?” Gerald asked.
“Heads,” Arnold replied.
Gerald flipped the quarter into the air, caught it, and smacked it onto the back of his hand. “It’s tails.”
Arnold tossed him the football.
It was sunny, but Arnold could see his breath, and his cheeks were probably pink from the cold air. But it was early in the day, so it would warm up some by the afternoon, and at least the chill hadn’t scared off the neighborhood kids from their annual Thanksgiving touch-football game. Each team was made up of a handful of their usual friends as well as some of the younger kids in the neighborhood who liked to play games with them now that they were older. Arnold took charge of one team and Gerald took the other, lining them up on the grass in the empty lot.
Gerald’s team kicked off, and the game ensued. Soon it did warm up, and Arnold was sweating slightly in his collared burgundy sweatshirt. Gerald shed his own red sweatshirt and was running around in only a blue t-shirt that said Johansson Family Thanksgiving: Turkeylicious!, which had been made for everyone in his family by Jamie O. and his new young wife. They had gotten married last spring, so it was their first holiday season as a married couple and Gerald said they were obnoxiously cutesy about it. His little sister, Timberly, sat on the bleachers with a few friends, giggling at boys in the game, her jacket open over an identical t-shirt.
They paused the game to take a break when Harold had the ball and was tackled by several of the thirteen-year-old neighborhood kids. The kids tried weighing him down, laughing and hanging off his biceps and legs, while Harold carried them along, attempting to walk to the touchdown line. Sid and Stinky were trying to pry the young teens off of him, but reinforcement pre-teens appeared to dog pile on top of both boys. Arnold laughed at the ridiculous performance, heading back to the bleachers with Gerald to sit for a minute.
Gerald hopped up to where Phoebe sat wrapped in a blanket, holding a thermos of tea. Gerald leaned down and kissed her hard, before plopping down in front of her and accepting the thermos to drink from.
Stinky’s girlfriend, Shante, was also there, and Arnold had been pleased to see she had wanted to play with them. She could hold her own in a football game despite being a lithe dancer. Currently she was laughing at Stinky and cheering him on as he struggled against six eleven year olds, each a third his size.
Nadine and Peapod Kid took their break off to one side, drinking from water bottles. They were sitting close enough that Arnold suspected they were getting along better and better ever since the Halloween dance.
Rhonda was not there, which had been a source of some whispers that mourning. When Arnold had invited her, she had given him an excuse about having family things, but really everyone knew she wasn’t there because she didn’t want to risk running into Harold or Curly. Arnold suspected she wasn’t coming on purpose, so Harold could hang out without feeling awkward. Arnold had told her she was nice for that, and she had said she didn’t know what he was talking about.
Curly, Arnold was slightly relieved to see, had decided not to come today either. He was always too rough with the younger kids, and who knew what kind of mood he was in these days. Arnold had seen him muttering to himself in the school hallways several times.
Eugene and fellow good-looking drama nerd, Jason, were sitting near Sheena. Sheena was telling funny stories about Eugene’s childhood and making Jason laugh and Eugene blush. Surprisingly, Patty was there with them. Occasionally she said something to Sheena or Eugene, but mostly she was watching Harold fall over as more kids jumped on his back. Arnold wondered if Helga knew Patty was there. She talked to her surprisingly often these days when Arnold and Lila were busy during lunch. When Arnold had asked Helga what she had said to Harold that night at the bus stop, she had said, “I’m making moves in the name of true love.”
“You’re making moves on Harold now?” he had asked.
She had choked on her chicken sandwich, and Arnold had laughed.
But today, Helga was not here. Arnold had invited her, but the DeMarco’s, her sister and her family, were in town and Helga couldn’t get out of staying home. She had sworn profusely that she would have much rather been tackling them all to the ground than be stuck hearing about potty training. Arnold had told her it was fine, pretending that he wasn’t disappointed. It was his only day off work this entire month, but of course it had to be on a family holiday where she was predictably busy. The rest of this weekend he would be drowning in Black Friday madness at work before staying late Sunday night to help decorate the shop for Christmas.
Arnold sat on the bleachers by himself and picked up his phone. He took a picture of Harold, Stinky, and Sid battling the junior high students and sent it to Helga.
She texted back immediately. HA! What dweebs. Are you trying to rub in what I’m missing?
Only a little, he replied.
Looks way more fun than what I’m doing.
What are you doing? Arnold asked.
Trying to watch the football game on TV while listening to Bob getting his butt kicked at Parcheesi for the third time in a row.
Arnold chuckled, imagining the scene. Her family around the table playing games, Helga lounging on the couch and pretending to be annoyed by the family time. Arnold hadn’t been inside her house yet, so he had to furnish the fantasy a little. Maybe she had a fish tank in the corner or Miriam had a fancy small dog. Maybe they were filthy rich and everything was covered in gold. Maybe her family was really nice to her now and never forgot her name and kept asking her to play with them. His imagination ran a little wild, and somehow Arnold wound up in the scene, playing board games with the Patakis, helping Helga beat her father for the third time in a row. Big Bob raged and flipped the board while Helga kissed Arnold on the cheek.
“What are you smiling at, Romeo?” Gerald called over to him. He was leaning against Phoebe’s knees, an arm resting over her lap. He and Phoebe were smiling in his direction.
“Nothing,” Arnold said.
“Liar,” Gerald shot back.
“How is Helga doing?” Phoebe asked. “Is she surviving?”
“I think so for now,” Arnold said. “You might have a better idea than me. Did she say anything to you about Olga coming to visit?”
Phoebe shrugged. “I’m sure she didn’t say anything to me that she didn’t tell you.”
“Well, she said it would be annoying, but fine. She likes her nephew a lot, I think.”
Phoebe giggled. “I think so, too.”
“She's more ok when Olga is around these days, right?”
“She says so. Last year, she said the holidays were fine up until Olga talked everyone into going caroling, and then she was texting me all night about how off-key and horrible it was. Then, her brother-in-law slipped in the snow and fractured his wrist, and the pain meds made him act loopy for the rest of Christmas, so Helga said it got better again.”
The three of them laughed. Then Arnold had the selfish thought that if something like that happened again, he hoped Helga might text him instead of Phoebe.
“Geeze, what an idea to marry into the Pataki family,” Gerald said. “Maybe you need to befriend that brother-in-law and get some inside info from him, Arnold.”
“Well, I wouldn’t rely on Danny,” Phoebe said. “Helga likes her brother-in-law fine, but she thinks his perception of what is normal is skewed because of his own family. Apparently he has a colorful background and isn’t close with his family.”
“Really? But he must get along with his brother,” Arnold said. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be invited to the Patakis’, too, right?”
“You mean Angelo?” Phoebe raised her eyebrows. “Is he there today?”
“Helga mentioned Olga was bringing her husband’s brother, so I guess so.”
“That’s interesting.” Phoebe looked thoughtful.
“How come?” Gerald asked.
“Well, from what I know, Helga liked him well enough in the beginning, when Olga got married. That was, oh, just under four years ago, I believe. Angelo is around our age, and he went to junior high with Helga and Agatha. At first Helga said they got along well, and to me it seemed like they were friends. But a while later she said she wasn’t hanging out with him anymore. When I asked why, she only said that she had realized he wasn’t very nice. I didn’t think she had seen him for quite some time.”
“Oh,” Arnold said. He remembered Phoebe mentioning in the past that Helga got along ok with her in-laws, but he had mostly been glad that her relationship with her sister and her parents wasn’t as bad as it used to be. His imaginary scene of Helga’s Thanksgiving had to be altered a bit to include a faceless not-very-nice stranger, but Arnold hoped it wouldn’t ruin her holiday. “Well, she didn’t seem upset when she said he would be there. So maybe he’s nicer now and they’re friends again?”
“Perhaps. If so, you don’t need to worry, Arnold,” Phoebe said with a smile. “I’m fairly sure the Patakis only consider him family. Besides, Helga is quite smitten with you already.”
Arnold hadn’t been looking for that kind of reassurance, but it was nice to hear anyway. He pretended it didn’t make him blush or smile, and instead coughed, acting like he was winded from running around. Judging by their sniggers, Gerald and Phoebe weren’t buying it.
On the field, Harold had finally made it to the touchdown line, panting and gasping, and the younger kids dispersed. Sid and Stinky were equally gasping for breath while the pre-teens were waving everyone back to the field to start the game up again.
Before Arnold set his phone down, he was delighted to receive another text from Helga: Man, looks like fun. I wish I was there.
Gerald was back on the field, but Arnold was aware that Phoebe would see him smiling at his phone uncontrollably again. He sent back, I wish you were here too.
I wish you were here too.
Helga read the message a few hundred times. Each time she felt little buzzes of happiness flitting around under her skin for a moment. She had to hold in a dreamy little sigh so her family wouldn’t hear. To her own detriment, it was too powerful to stifle entirely.
Angelo heard. “What?” he asked.
He was sitting beside her on the couch, both of their feet propped up on the coffee table, the football game playing on the TV. Between them, their two-year-old nephew, Danny Jr., was playing a game of pick-up-blocks-and-put-them-on-the-couch before throwing them all down and doing it again. From the kitchen table in the dining room came loud banter over the board game everyone but Bob kept winning.
Helga was prepared for Angelo’s question. She enlarged the photo of Harold, Stinky, and Sid being idiots and showed him. “I’m just laughing at this picture my classmate sent of some dumb guys getting mauled.”
Angelo looked at it and snorted. “Idiots. Your classmate Amanda sent that?”
At the top of the screen was the name Amanda , which Helga had changed Arnold’s name to in her phone a couple weeks ago for just such an occasion as this. “Yep.”
“You text Amanda a lot.”
Helga shrugged. “She’s chatty.”
“Is she friends with Phoebe, too?”
“Yep.”
“So when do I get to meet Phoebe and Amanda?”
Helga gave him a sidelong look.
He returned an innocent expression. “What? You know I’ve always wanted to meet Phoebe, she’s your oldest friend. And I thought we were getting along so well recently.”
They had only been getting along because Helga knew it was easier than fighting him. If she let him look through the window of her life so he felt a part of it, he wouldn’t go kicking down the door.
It wasn’t that Angelo disliked her. The opposite—there had been a time when they thought they were exactly the same. So for the moment it was easier to let him think he had what he wanted—her attention. She needed to figure out what to do with him before he felt lonely and decided to take it out on Helga’s friends by prying them away from her with a crowbar. Metaphorically, of course. He wasn’t physical, that wasn’t his M.O., but he didn’t need to be. He could talk anyone into anything, sometimes without them even noticing.
“They’d be boring for you to meet,” Helga said.
“So? If they’re in your life, I want to meet them. I’ll even be on my best behavior.”
He was telling the truth; or he told what he thought was the truth. She was pretty sure he didn’t actually comprehend why she had stopped spending time with him.
When Olga and Danny had started getting serious, they had brought Angelo along to meet the family, too. He could have been the ugliest and dumbest kid on the planet, but because he was related to Danny, whom Miriam and Bob adored for adoring their precious eldest daughter, they had loved him right away. Helga had rolled her eyes about the situation, and had been shocked when Angelo had noticed and rolled his eyes, too.
They had both grown up with alcoholic mothers and neanderthal fathers. They both had perfect and obnoxious older siblings who saw through rose-colored glasses. They both had a hard time being seen for who they were.
Helga had been amazed to find someone who seemed so much like her. They had hung out in the corners of the room and read comics while the rest of the family was being obnoxious; they had wandered down to the river and skipped rocks, complaining about their respective families and comparing horror stories. That had started in sixth grade, two years after Helga had moved away from Phoebe and Arnold and everyone else she had grown up with. She had been lonely and angry and feeling left out. Having someone around who also felt lonely and angry and left out had felt cathartic. It had made her feel less invisible.
Their friendship had been nice for a while. Until Helga had recognized that despite their similar growing-up issues and loneliness, she was different from Angelo. She was sad and angry, sure, and part of her wanted the people around her to feel it. But justifying hurting anyone wasn’t right, and she had known it. Angelo didn’t feel the same. Angelo felt little else but his own sadness and anger.
Helga didn’t answer his request to meet her friends, instead pretending to be distracted by Danny Jr., who was attempting to pull himself up on the couch. Helga braced him so he wouldn’t fall back, and when he sat facing them, Angelo poked him in the cheek until he laughed, revealing the dimple that matched his uncle’s. His eyes were the same color too—in fact Helga had a suspicion that, other than his nose which was Olga’s, the little boy would grow up to look remarkably like Angelo.
“Look at this looker,” Angelo said about their nephew. “A heartbreaker in the making. He can join us in taking over the world.”
“Or we can just give it to him,” Helga replied. “Sounds like a pain in the ass to be in charge of, so he can have it. He’ll do better than us.”
In her periphery, Angelo turned to her. She ignored him. Instead, she carefully held Danny Jr. steady, his hand clutching her fingers as he balanced on the edge of the sofa. His tongue was sticking out of his mouth as he piled up the blocks on the cushion in front of him, in between Helga and Angelo’s thighs. When he had a stack going, Angelo poked it and made it topple, and Danny Jr. cheerfully began building it again.
“Danny Jr., tell your Aunt Helga that she’s breaking my heart,” Angelo said.
“D.J., tell your Uncle Angelo that I have no interest in running the world the way he wants to,” Helga said.
“You used to.”
“I was pubescent, had no friends at school, and was stuck wiping Miriam’s sweaty face while she got sober. Then I got wise and realized I wasn’t happy, so I did something about it.” Helga had created her new self. She had stopped crying and writing poems about missing Arnold. She hung out with Agatha and started playing basketball with Teri and Lenny. She called Phoebe more often. She was nice to people, even when she didn’t feel like it, and eventually she did feel like it. She told Angelo his sadistic sense of humor wasn’t funny and she didn’t want to be his friend anymore. Things had gotten better and better, all the way until today, where there was a text from someone who had always somehow seen her, saying, I wish you were here.
“I know. I remember,” Angelo said.
There was an icy edge to his tone. Helga knew she should stop this conversation now.
“You needed more in your life,” Angelo continued. “That’s fine. I support that.”
That was such a bizarre thing for him to say that she snapped her head in his direction. She flinched when he poked her on the nose.
“Boop!” he said. Then he bopped Danny Jr. on the nose. “Boop!”
Danny Jr. laughed.
“Helga, what are you thinking!” Bob suddenly bellowed, snatching Danny Jr. out of her hands. “He’ll fall!”
“He’s fine, dad,” Helga said flatly, for the thirtieth time that day. No one was more anxious about Danny Jr.’s safety than Big Bob.
Bob stood over them, the toddler on his hip. “You have to be more careful, Helga! Stop thinking only about yourself!”
Helga rolled her eyes. Beside her, Angelo snorted.
“Sheesh, teenage girls. Am I right, Angelo? Anyway, come on. We’re eating,” Bob said. He walked away, wincing as Danny Jr. pulled on his hair.
The Patakis and DeMarcos gathered around the table. One of the best things about Olga was that she genuinely was an amazing cook. Helga ate a full plate, then loaded up and ate again. Really it would be easier to eat directly from the serving bowls, but she should at least pretend she wasn’t a total animal. Helga had ended up wedged between Miriam and Olga, which was a terrible place to be, especially when they kept talking to each other over her. At least she wasn’t next to Angelo. He was at the other end of the table, listening to his brother tell a boring story about what his fifth grade students had done that week. Olga was the principal of the school Danny worked at, which was how they had met, and both of them were always brimming with gag-worthy stories about rearing the next generation. Helga discreetly watched Angelo, but he didn’t seem to be acting weird.
What a weird thing Angelo had said to her, about supporting her decisions. It couldn’t merely be a result of having been stuck living in a tiny mountain village for a year. He had been forced to live with his father for a while—part of the punishment he’d gotten when he’d taken a minor annoyance with their Freshman teacher too far at the beginning of last year, and someone had noticed and tied him to her getting sacked. The DeMarco’s parents had been messily divorced since Angelo was five and he still hated them for putting him in the middle of it. Honestly, rightly so. His parents were a bigger disaster than Helga’s own. She had known that their decision to take him out of his aunt’s home and send him to live with his dad would have killed Angelo inside—but she hadn’t reached out to give him any sympathy. It wouldn’t have helped anything. He couldn’t think she was the same as him anymore.
So had he somehow now returned to Hillwood a changed man who understood why Helga had recognized him as an escapee from hell? Helga doubted it.
“Oh, Helga, that will be so fun!” Miriam said, snapping Helga out of her thoughts.
“What will be so fun?” Helga asked, disliking that everyone around the table was looking at her.
“Working at Big Bob’s Mobile and Beeper Emporium!” Miriam said.
“Excuse me?” Helga said, her knife and fork freezing.
“I’ve decided it’s high time you learn the ropes,” Bob said, taking a big bite of turkey leg. “If Angelo’s going to be working there, then you should, too. You’re my own kid, you should be making yourself useful.”
“What? Angelo’s going to work there?” She turned to Angelo, who shrugged, chewing on green beans.
“I think it’s a marvelous idea,” Olga said. “You two can learn some new skills for your resume and college applications. You can never start too early! And at the same time, you can work with a friend! Don’t you think it’s a good idea, Danny?”
“I don’t see why not, muffin pie!” Danny said. “They’d be a dynamite sales team. It seems they always could convince us that baking soda was good to bathe in, or that our landlady was laundering money so we should stop paying utilities.”
Danny beamed at his little brother. Angelo looked back at him and took another bite of green beans.
Helga dropped her cutlery onto her plate with a clatter. “Hold on, hold on, hold on. Since when do you want me within five miles of the store, dad? Last time I was there, you said it was bad luck for teenage girls to be there during daylight hours.”
“Times are changing, Helga,” Bob said, pointing a fork at her. “You’re old enough to be helping out. Besides, teenagers come in all the time with their parents’ money looking for electronics, and I need someone who can speak to them on their level. You won’t be paid, obviously, but it will be good experience.”
“I don’t want to work there,” Helga said.
“Nonsense, it’s the family business, and you’re in the family. Just because you’re the youngest doesn’t mean you can’t help out. Olga runs a whole school and works on the city’s board of education, but she still takes time to model for our advertisements.”
“Oh, I’m happy to help, daddy,” Olga said.
“Have Miriam help out!” Helga exclaimed. “You’re always stealing her marketing ideas anyway, she’d be great at it!”
“Ha, oh, Helga, you know I don’t have time for that!” her mother said. “Who will organize ladies’ brunch if I get a job? You know Leslie Taylorson is going through a rough patch right now, I can’t abandon her. That’s what friends are for!” She turned and winked at Angelo.
“So true, Miriam,” Angelo replied.
Oh. This was all Angelo’s doing. Of course, Helga should have known. It had been two years since Helga had told him she didn’t want to be his friend, but he still wanted things to be the way they had been when they had first met. When, for a moment, he had been all that she had. Angelo wanted to stay in their misery together. Helga had always wanted to get out of it.
“I don’t have time to work at the store, dad,” Helga said.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re not doing basketball anymore. You have nothing but time,” her father shot back.
“No! I’m busy, I actually, uh…Oh! I’m in the Christmas play!”
Olga gasped. “You are? Oh, how wonderful!”
“Delightful!” Danny added. “My sunny snowflake, do you remember when we went to a play on Christmas Eve?”
“I’ll never forget! Our seventh date.” Olga sighed.
Helga hadn’t been to rehearsals once, hoping Eugene would get fed up with her and take her out of the play. Now she might have to start showing up. “Yeah, yeah, it’s real atmospheric and important for holiday cheer and that crap. That’s why it’s so important that I’m in it.”
Bob made a face. “A play? What for? You’re an athlete.”
“It’s good for her to try new things, Bob,” Miriam said.
“I think you should stick to what you’re good at, Helga,” Bob said.
“She is good at it,” Angelo said, turning a hard smile on Bob. “She’s been in several plays.”
Helga shot him a glare. Angelo’s almond-colored eyes looked back at her. He used to defend her like that when they were younger, but she didn’t want him on her side now, or ever again, really. And he knew it.
Was that why he was doing this? Tricking her into spending time with him, making her parents think it was their idea so she would have a hard time getting out of it? It was some ploy to get her to spend time with him.
He’s using a crowbar, she thought, I knew it. It was a good thing she had changed Arnold’s name to Amanda in her phone. Angelo really didn’t need to know she had a boyfriend who took up a great majority of her thoughts, leaving hardly any room for anyone else.
“Yeah, is that so?” Bob scratched his chin, chewing on some meat. “Right, right, now I remember. She does like that flowery monologue stuff. Alright, fine, do the play. Angelo, you work after school. Helga, any free time you have, you come work, too. And don’t even try to fight me on this, little lady! It’s probationary until the New Year, and then we’ll see if you’re Emporium material. No nepotism in this family. Angelo, you’re not on probation, you can work there as long as you want, son.”
“Gee, thanks Bob,” Angelo said. Danny Jr. was beside him, and Angelo subtly put his spoon full of cranberry sauce on the edge of the highchair. Danny Jr. unwittingly hit the handle and the spoon went flying into Bob’s face, splatting cranberry sauce everywhere.
Olga declared they would fly out for Christmas in time to see Helga’s play, and then the conversation turned to the many plays Olga had been in. Miriam and Bob, who was cleaning himself up, encouraged Olga to reenact one of her favorite musical numbers from Oklahoma! so the family moved to the living room to be subjected to, most likely, several one-woman-shows for the rest of the evening.
Helga took a moment apart from everyone else, scraping her plate clean in the kitchen and dropping it into the sink. Her teeth clenched together too tight.
Angelo came up beside her, putting his plate on top of hers. “See, honey, what did I tell you? I’m supportive.”
“How is making me work at Bob’s crappy store supportive?” she snapped.
Angelo smiled at her. “He was talking shit about you quitting basketball and not trying out for any other sports teams yet. This way he’s focused on other things, and you can do what you want. See?”
“And you’ll just happen to be there at the store whenever I am by complete coincidence? Because of course this isn’t all actually for you?”
Angelo kept smiling. “It’s for both of us.”
Arnold wobbled on the ladder, his hands full of a fake pine garland. He braced himself, a screwdriver in his mouth, until the ladder steadied. He took the screwdriver out and finished securing the hooks along the tops of the shelves in the perfume shop. Then he draped the garland along the hooks, hopped down, and plugged in the end, illuminating the garland’s white lights.
“Lovely!” his manager said. She stood at the display table, organizing perfumes around a tree-shaped tower. She paused to give him a thumbs up.
It was late Sunday night, past ten, and Arnold was exhausted after three long days of dealing with Black Friday shoppers. Most everyone else had gone home, except Mimi who was in the back, finishing organizing the inventory. Arnold collected the empty cardboard boxes they had pulled decorations out of and carried them to the back room. He returned with an armful of long silver candlesticks and a bag of tealights. Moving carefully around the sparkly swabs of cotton snow in the new window displays, he set up the candlesticks and lights.
Outside the sky was dark, but the street was well lit with street lights, plus the newly hung Christmas lights and hanukkah menorahs set up in windows. A few shops were still open, and shoppers or dinner goers walked around in scarves and coats.
There was a tap on the window, and Arnold looked up to see Helga standing outside. She waved at him. He immediately climbed out of the window and went to the door, unlocking it and leaning out. A blast of cold night air hit him hard, biting his cheeks.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asked.
“Just wandering around,” she said. She was in a gray beanie and puffy maroon jacket, her hands safe inside her pockets from the cold.
He glanced around the sidewalk, expecting to see one of her friends with her. “By yourself?”
“Yeah, no biggie. I was going stir crazy in the house after all the family time this weekend, so once everyone left I had to escape. When are you done?”
“Um,” he glanced behind him at the half finished decorations. “Maybe half an hour?”
“Alright, cool. I’ll be around until then.”
“Why don’t you come in? It’s freezing out.”
She was already taking steps backward. “Nah, I don’t want to be in your way. Back to it, then, Arnaldo. Call me when you’re done.”
“Ok.”
He watched her walk down the sidewalk beneath the Christmas lights. Suddenly he had a lot more energy. He went back to work, eager to finish quickly.
Twenty minutes later the perfume shop was adequately festive and Arnold was taking off his apron and pulling on his coat.
“Cute girl,” his manager said, peeking over her glasses to give him a coy smile.
“That’s my girlfriend,” he said.
“Oh I know. I could tell.”
Arnold blushed. “Yeah.”
His manager bid him goodnight, and he left through the front door onto the chilly street. He walked in the direction Helga had gone, pulling his phone out. It was ringing when he spotted her ahead of him. He caught up to her as she was putting her phone to her ear.
“Hey, you finished fast,” she said.
Arnold was distracted from responding when he saw she was holding onto the collar of a short middle-aged man in a nice suit.
“Who’s this?” Arnold asked, bewildered.
“This is Larry, he’s—”
“I’m a victim! Please help me!” Larry said.
Helga shook him by the back of his suit. “Quit your griping, Larry, this is for your own good.”
Larry grumbled, but didn’t seem to be struggling to get away. Or maybe Helga had already bullied him into submission.
“I gotta drop this guy off, come on,” Helga told Arnold.
“Uh. Sure,” Arnold responded.
Helga led the way to the next shop up the sidewalk, dragging the still-grumbling Larry. Outside the door was a Santa Claus ringing a bell and holding a bucket for donations. The Santa turned their way and Arnold recognized Harvey, the mailman.
“Heya, Arnold,” Harvey greeted.
“Hi, Harvey. I didn’t know you worked out here too,” Arnold replied.
“Oh, I just volunteer on the weekends. It’s good to help the kids, ya know?”
Arnold dug out his wallet, but Helga tossed Larry toward Harvey. “Brought you another graciously giving soul, St. Nick,” she said.
“Oh! Another one?” Harvey smiled at Larry brightly. “You’re here to donate to the women and children’s shelter?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Larry said snidely, opening his wallet. He pulled out a few dollar bills and handed them toward the donation bucket.
“Twenty bucks?” Helga snapped, crossing her arms. “Larry, you think I don’t know that watch is worth ten thousand bucks?”
Larry scowled at her and she narrowed her eyes, leaning over him. Larry shrank back.
Helga said, “I know you have a checkbook somewhere in that double breasted blazer, Larry. I know you don’t want the women and kids in need to get nothing for Christmas. And I know you don’t want that pretty curvy redheaded lady back at the shoe shop with you to know you were texting some bimbo named Carri with an ‘I’ when she wasn’t looking. Right?”
Larry’s scowl deepened and he ripped out a checkbook and a pen. He scribbled something down, Helga looming over him the whole time. Then he dropped the check in the bucket.
Harvey smiled and rang his bell. “Thank you for your donation! Happy holidays!”
Larry pointed at Helga aggressively. “Girls like you are what is wrong with this generation.”
“Thank you, Larry,” Helga said. “Guys like you are what is wrong with every generation.”
Larry looked like he was going to throw a fit, but Harvey rang his bell right in his ear, thanking him for the donation loudly until Larry walked away.
Arnold watched the entire interaction with a dumbfounded expression. Then he laughed.
“Are you bullying people into giving money to charity?” he asked.
“Only the rich ones,” Helga said. “No one can say I don’t have a giving spirit.”
Arnold laughed again. He finished pulling out a few bills from his wallet to put in Harvey’s bucket.
“Thanks Arnold, the kids appreciate every penny,” Harvey said. “Is this your girlfriend? She’s a real spitfire.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Arnold said.
“Hey!” Helga started to complain. Arnold took her hand in his and slipped both into his jacket pocket, which effectively distracted Helga into shutting up.
“You remember the Patakis?” Arnold asked Harvey.
“I sure do. I didn’t recognize you at first, young lady, but nobody can shake down someone for money like that better than a Pataki can! Your dad talked me into a real fancy family plan for my cell phone last year, and it wasn’t until I got home I realized I don’t have a family!”
Helga looked embarrassed, but Harvey laughed heartily.
“No worries, me and the senior couple next door benefit from that family plan just fine.” Harvey winked at her. “I’m packing up for the evening, but thanks for your help tonight, Helga. See you later, Arnold.”
“Night, Harvey.”
Arnold and Helga left Harvey to put his bucket and sign away.
As they headed down the street toward the bus stop, Arnold asked, “So was Thanksgiving so good you felt like going out and being a good samaritan?”
“More like it was so long and I had to listen to so many renditions of broadway numbers that all my pent up aggression had to go somewhere.”
He laughed and she smiled. “Well, I’m glad you came out tonight. I missed you,” he said.
“You saw me on Wednesday.”
“Yeah, that was four days ago.”
She raised an eyebrow and smiled in that way she did when she was trying not to smile. He thought that smile was adorable. “Are you always like this when you’re dating someone?” she asked.
“Dunno, you’re the first person I’ve really dated. You don’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that.” She turned to look at the glowing snowflakes hung across the street. He leaned around to see if her cheeks were pink from more than just the cold. She glared at him.
She clearly liked it. Arnold couldn’t help laughing again.
“Glad you’re in such a good mood,” Helga mumbled.
She was the one who had put him in a good mood. Every text from her, every appearance at the library door, every glimpse down a hallway. Each one lifted Arnold up like a hit of fresh caffeine to his blood stream. The effect was a little surprising to him. A good surprise, though.
“Are you not in a good mood?” he asked. She seemed alright, having clearly had a good time hunting down wallets to pickpocket for the poor. Now her hand was still holding his in his pocket, her shoulder bumping his occasionally. But he had thought her text messages last night had seemed sort of drained. “When did Olga and her family leave?”
“They left this afternoon.”
“Did you have a good time with everyone?”
“It was alright. It certainly didn’t make it into the top five worst Thanksgivings I’ve ever had, so that’s always a plus. Then in a few weeks Olga will fly back and we’ll do it all again for Christmas.”
Arnold pursed his lips. “You sound like you’re not looking forward to it.”
She shrugged. “Nah, it’s fine. Olga always makes good food, and Danny makes killer gingerbread. And my parents are always in an absolutely amazing mood when they’re around. I always try to ask for money when they are, because my dad just forks it right over.”
“Tch. Well, what do I even have this job for?”
“Oh, I expect money from you, too. That’s your job as a boyfriend, in case you didn’t know.”
“Oh, I’m aware.”
“And if you can make a killer gingerbread, even better.”
“Ah. Well, I guess I could brush up on my baking.” Then he carefully asked, “Was it bad because Angelo was there?”
Helga jerked to a stop, turning wide eyes on Arnold. “What? Why are you asking about him?”
Taken aback by her reaction, Arnold raised his eyebrows. “Phoebe mentioned you might not get along very well with your brother-in-law’s brother.”
“Oh.” She blinked a few times, then her shoulders relaxed. “Yeah. Right. He’s…a pain in the ass.”
“Did he fight with you this weekend? Or give you a hard time?”
“Pfft, he doesn’t fight. Not like that. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Helga started walking again, back to normal, but Arnold wasn’t brushing off her reaction so easily. That Angelo guy was definitely someone who bothered her. How much and just what kind of bothering, Arnold didn’t know. Which made him frown.
“Does he live around here?” Arnold asked casually.
“He’s in the suburbs. He lives at his aunt’s place.”
“Does he visit with your family a lot?”
“More than I like.” She sneered, then shook it off. “Ugh, let’s not talk about him. He’s not someone worth talking about. What happened with Mr. Potts’ ex-girlfriend showing up at Thanksgiving?”
Arnold watched her for a second, but let the subject drop for now. She clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk about her family. He wished she was more forthcoming, about everything really, but he didn’t think trying to pry it out of her was a good idea. That might make her shut him out even more. Arnold let her change the subject for now and replied, “No, no. It wasn’t Mr. Potts ex-girlfriend.”
“What, it wasn’t? But you said—”
“It was his wife, Holly’s ex-girlfriend.”
She turned to him, her eyes narrowed. “Details. Now.”
He recounted the story he had promised would be better in person than over text, which included the sudden appearance of Holly’s ex-girlfriend at the door, three platters of deviled eggs, two demolition excavators, and the fire hydrant down the street.
By the time Arnold had gotten through it, ending with himself standing in the fountain of water spewing from the fire hydrant, holding the broken piñata of Alexander Graham Bell, resignedly eating the last of the deviled eggs while the rest of the Sunset Arms residents danced in the fake rain, Helga was doubled over in laughter and tears.
“Oh man! Please tell me someone had a camera,” Helga said, wiping a tear from her eye.
“No such luck. But wait, there’s more.”
She gaped at him. “How can there be more?”
“Once we had cleaned up the dining room and everyone was getting ready for bed, Mr. Hyunh asked if I would get him the ex-girlfriend’s number.”
Helga burst out laughing again. “Even after she threatened the gag order?”
“Yep.”
“Did you do it?”
“I told him it was a really bad idea. And then I got it from Holly and gave it to him.”
Helga cackled. “Oh god. Incredible. I hope I’m invited to the wedding.”
“If it happens, you can be my plus one.”
“Good. I’ll bring a camera.”
“I’ll bring a poncho. And a hard hat.”
They had made it to the bus stop, which was under a street lamp on a road with a park on both sides. At this time of night, it was dark and tranquil. Helga stood with a smirk, still chuckling to herself every few seconds. Arnold watched her, a quiet smile on his own face. She was pretty in the street light, with her nose pink from the cold, licking her lips once in a while to keep them from being dry. He was a little embarrassed how mesmerized he was every time she did that.
A breeze blew, ruffling her hair, and she shivered. Taking it as an excuse, he let go of her hand and reached up to adjust her collar, stepping closer to her. Her shoulders shot up to her ears and she went tense as an iron pole. Oops. He was going to step back, but he noticed beneath her coat she was wearing a faded pink scarf. His scarf.
He pulled her collar back slightly to reveal it. “What’s this?”
She blinked. “Hmm? Oh. I keep bringing it to give back to you. Here.” She reached up stiffly and started to pull the scarf off.
He stopped her, tucking it back beneath her coat again. “I gave it to you, remember? It’s your color.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t have to do a lot of things. I do them because I want to.”
She let him adjust her collar, mumbling. “M’kay. Thanks.”
Now he could tell the pink on her cheeks was more than the cold. Standing this close, he could also smell a sweet aroma coming from her. He dipped his head closer to her hair. “You smell like Eau de l'Étreinte.”
She shoved him away, now completely red. “No. It’s in your head.”
He let out a breathy chuckle. “It’s definitely not. I know my perfumes.”
“Well, you smell like you’ve been marinating in an entire floral shop, like, everyday!” She looked like she was furiously debating if she should yell at him more or run away. He hoped she wouldn’t do either. He hoped she would lick her lips again.
A bus turned the corner and rolled down the street while Helga was still deciding. Arnold saw it was the D line—his bus. It paused and opened the door, but Arnold shook his head. “We’re waiting for the A line.”
The driver closed the door and moved on.
“Wait, wait, wait! You idiot, that was your bus!” Helga jogged after it a few feet, trying to flag it down. It ignored her and left them alone on the street again. She turned and walked back to him, her arms spread. “What the hell? Are you that tired you didn’t realize which bus it was?”
“I’ll wait for your bus with you,” he said.
“What, no, why would you do that? You’ve been working nonstop all weekend, you have to be exhausted.”
“I’m not tired.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Listen, I know you’re always determined to prove chivalry isn’t dead, but for real. You’ve got precious little free time, so you don’t have to waste it worrying about me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Why are you so determined to never let me worry about you?”
“Do I look like someone you need to be worried about?”
“Yes.”
She scoffed. “Well, don’t. I don’t like it.”
“Fine, I won’t worry about you, then.”
“Fine. Good.”
“Fine. Then I’m just standing here near you, waiting for the bus. Which will just happen to come after your bus comes.” He made a big deal of standing in the center of the sidewalk facing the street, not looking at her, his hands in his pockets.
She was quiet behind him for a minute, and he wondered if she really was mad. Then her arms slid around his waist from behind. His breath stopped. She leaned against his back, her cheek against his shoulder.
“Ok, fine,” she said softly. “If you’re here anyway, can I stay with you for a bit? I won’t distract you.”
“Stay as long as you want,” he replied. He wasn’t going to say she wasn’t a distraction. Every day since she had reappeared in his life she was a growing distraction.
Her arms tightened around him, pressing herself against his back. She let out a long breath, which he felt warm against his jacket and brushing up his neck. Arnold pulled a hand out of his pocket and slid it over hers. He watched the clouds of his breath in the air but no longer felt cold in the slightest. It was nearing midnight, and they had school in the morning. He wished she had done this earlier so they could have stayed there longer. If he had known it was an option, he would have done it himself.
His quick heartbeat stopped pounding so hard after a few minutes, so he said, “Helga.”
“Mm?” she replied. She sounded sleepy and comfortable.
“What do you want for Christmas?”
“For Christmas? You already bought me perfume.”
“That doesn’t count, it wasn’t for Christmas.”
“You don’t have to get me anything.”
“But I will. So is there something you want specifically?”
He regretted asking when her grip around him loosened, but was glad she didn’t pull away entirely. He turned to see her blue eyes looking at him, her chin on the edge of his shoulder.
“It’s dumb,” she said, half in a whisper. She looked embarrassed.
“I’m sure it’s not dumb. What is it?”
She bit her bottom lip, and he couldn’t stop his gaze from dropping to watch.
In an even smaller voice she said, “For you to kiss me again.”
He looked back at her for several heartbeats. Then he turned around, took her in his arms, and kissed her.
After several seconds, he pulled back to make sure she wasn’t uncomfortable about kissing in public. Her eyes fluttered open to look at him; she didn’t look upset at all. He lifted a hand to her chin, gently running his thumb along the place where her bruises had been. There hadn’t been any sign of them for days, but he wanted to make sure. He leaned in to kiss the spot on her jaw where they had been, and then the corner of her bottom lip that had been split in defense of her friend. She turned into him, catching his lips again, her warm breath washing over him. He was glad the park and the street were quiet, and there was little chance of someone in his family interrupting them. So he kissed her until he heard a bus coming, at which point he reluctantly pulled away and checked the street. The bus was on the other side of the road, going the opposite direction. But unfortunately, it meant Helga’s bus would be there soon.
He turned back to her. She still had her arms around his waist and had that shy, breathless expression she’d had the first time they had kissed. He smiled and leaned his forehead against hers, running his fingers along a strand of her dark yellow hair before brushing it behind her shoulder.
“Alright,” he said, “what else do you want?”
Her pink tongue licked the edge of her lips and he tried not to spiral into distraction again, wondering what her tongue tasted like and why he hadn’t considered it before. Maybe his thoughts were obvious on his face, or maybe she was simply snapping back to her usual self, because then she grinned.
“I want to go on our first date,” she said.
“First date?”
“Yes. That’s what I want.”
Arnold thought about this. He felt terrible that they had been together for a month and hadn’t been on one date yet. Even his good intentions to plan a double date with Gerald and Phoebe were now more-or-less out the window until after his job was over. Although if she was ok with kissing him on the street out in the open, maybe they could skip the training-wheels of double dates. He would prefer that, anyway.
“Ok. It’s a date, then,” he said. And she looked so happy about it he regretted not doing it sooner.
Then Helga’s bus really was coming around the corner. As it screeched to a stop, Arnold pulled out of her arms, patted her shoulder, and turned to climb into the bus. He dropped money into the box, looking down at Helga, who stood on the sidewalk, bewildered. He smirked and walked further into the bus.
“Hey! What are you doing? That’s not your bus!” she called after him. He ignored her and walked to the back, passing two very old women who were in deep conversation, giggling to each other, and a middle aged man sleeping against the window.
She hurried onto the bus after him, annoyed when she was stopped by the driver asking for her bus fare.
“This isn’t your bus!” she said, hurrying down the aisle after him. “You have to get off, or—” she stumbled slightly as the bus pulled down the street. He patted the seat beside him and she flopped into it, saying, “Damnit, you idiot! What are you doing?”
He shrugged. “What’s it look like? I’m riding the bus with you.”
“You—I—how can you—stupid—” she stammered angrily.
“I’m not being overly worried or patronizing that you can’t get home by yourself,” he told her. “I feel bad we don’t get to hang out very often since I’m so busy all the time. So just let me ride with you.”
“It’s fine that you’re busy. I understand,” she replied.
“Yeah, but I want to hang out with you. That’s ok, right?”
“Y…yeah. That’s ok.” She chewed on the inside of her lip and looked out the window at the passing city, then gave up and settled against the seat beside him. He knew he had won when her hand inched toward his; he took it, intertwining their fingers and resting them against his leg.
“I got a job, too,” she said out of the blue.
He turned to her. “What? You did? Why didn’t you say so before? Where?”
“At my dad’s store.”
“Oh. That’s nice. Is that nice?”
“It wasn’t my choice. I got tricked into it and now my dad’s making me do it.”
“Tricked into it? What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Angelo is just bored, that’s all.”
Angelo—that guy’s name again—and an expression on her face as if she had suddenly become very tired. Arnold frowned.
She continued, “It will be lame, but Bob said it was only probationary, so if I do a really bad job he’ll get sick of me and fire me.”
“I’m sure he won’t fire you,” Arnold said.
“No, that’s good, hair boy—I want him to fire me.”
“Oh.”
She suddenly turned a heated glare on Arnold that made him jump. “Don’t you dare try to show up at my work like I did to you. I’ll throw you out the window.”
She probably meant it. “Alright, I won’t. So are you finally getting out of the play, then? You haven’t been to rehearsal once this whole month.”
“No, I’ll do it. I’d rather be there than working at the Emporium. Besides, I need the play for my matchmaking schemes.
“Matchmaking schemes?”
She gave him a haughty smile. “Yeah, I decided it’s my new hobby.”
Arnold laughed. “Oh, really?”
“What are you laughing about? Don’t think I can do it?”
Helga as a matchmaker was frankly a terrifying prospect; he knew what she was capable of when she was after something, and he hoped whoever she was matchmaking was prepared. On the other hand, it was adorable. He wondered if this new hobby was coming about because she was happy with him and wanted to spread the love around.
“So who are your first victims?” Arnold asked. “Can I help?”
“Yeah, why not? I might need a conspirator.”
The rest of the ride was spent sitting with their heads close together and whispering plots. She did indeed have plans for Harold and Patty, which Arnold had suspected. She also had an eye on Lenny and Sheena, apparently. Lila had some boy lined up for her too, whom Helga refused to reveal the identity of to Arnold. Their wild brainstorming session was interrupted only once, when the two old lady passengers started making out. When the old ladies got up to leave, they apologized with sheepish smiles, but Helga and Arnold gave them a thumbs up.
The ride was shorter than Arnold thought it would be, and soon they were pulling up to Helga’s street and she was letting go of his hand.
“You text me when you get home,” she ordered him proudly. He laughed and agreed and watched her walk off the bus and down the sidewalk toward her house. Tired and happy, he leaned back against his bus seat and closed his eyes, the remnant touch of Helga still on his lips and the smell of Eau de l'Étreinte on his clothes.
Chapter 14: Swords and Omens and Dates, Oh My
Chapter Text
First thing on Monday, right after she got out of detention, Helga stomped straight to the drama room. Now that Thanksgiving break was over, there were supposed to be early morning rehearsals every day. Eugene was clapping his hands and hollering at the dancers on stage, who were tripping over the complicated dance moves he had choreographed. Helga grabbed Eugene by the back of the shirt and dragged him into the teacher’s empty office before anyone knew what happened.
“Ouch, ouch! Please don’t hit me, I need this face for my career!” Eugene said, cowering against the closed door.
“Criminy, I’m not going to hit you!” she barked back.
He straightened his shirt. “Alright, fine, Helga, if you want out of the play so badly, I’ll find someone else—”
“No, no, I’ll do it! Don’t replace me!”
Eugene looked genuinely shocked. “You will? Really?”
“Yes! But Eugene, I need a favor. Please, it’s really important.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows knit together. “Helga Pataki saying please? Is everything alright?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. And I promise, I promise, I will work hard and do amazing and make sure your play is a success if you do this for me. Ok?”
He looked nervous now. “Alright…What is it?”
“I need you to put me on the rehearsal schedule.”
“You are on it, you just never show up.”
“I know, I know! I mean, I need you to keep putting me on it, and I need you to put on the schedule extra, private rehearsals between you and me, and maybe sometimes Patty.”
“Oh, Helga, I’m so glad you’re excited to participate now, but I don’t have time for—”
“No, listen, this is the favor. I need you to make a schedule for me, and I need you to swear to anyone, and I mean anyone, that I was there even though I wasn’t.”
“So…you won’t be at these extra private rehearsals?”
“No.”
“You want to pretend to be rehearsing, and you want me to help you lie about it?”
“Yes.” She clasped her hands together. “I swear I’ll do a really great job and I’ll practice lots at home and I’ll even come to all the dress rehearsals when it comes time. I just really need you to help me do this.”
“Well…” Eugene scratched his head. “It doesn’t seem fair to the other kids, but…I suppose I can help you out. It’s not like your character does much dancing, and you seem like you really need it for some reason.”
She nodded emphatically, hands still held in supplication to him.
He put a finger up. “Alright, but you had better be completely memorized and ready to go! And you have to be there when we rehearse the final big number, because you’re a key dancer in it!”
She clapped her hands on his face. “You are a beautiful man who has been blessed by the muses and this will be an amazing play and your face will go down in history.”
Between his squished cheeks, he said, “Yaaay!”
Helga left Eugene to return to directing, and hurried to the back of the stage. She found Patty sitting in a chair behind a curtain, watching the other girl, Tami, who was playing Christine rehearsing on the stage.
When Patty saw her, she lifted a hand to wave. “Oh, hey, Hel—”
“Patty, I need a solid, and I know you’ll understand me because you’re also a woman of great love and understanding who will do anything she needs to do for the love of her life.”
“Um. Ok.”
Helga was grateful for the loud music and dancing going on nearby to keep her from being overheard.
“Ok, here’s the thing,” and she told Patty everything.
When she was done, Patty, who’d had the same blank expression the whole time, said, “So this guy feels like you’re his only friend and if you have other friends then you’re betraying him?”
“More or less.”
“And he definitely won’t like you having a boyfriend?”
“Hell no, he will not.”
“And you’re pretending to be at rehearsals so you can actually spend time with the boyfriend he isn’t supposed to know about.”
“You got it.”
“And you don’t think your family or anyone else will believe you because he’s extremely smart and charming and you don’t have any proof that he’s ever done anything bad.”
“Bingo. He’s very good at talking people into thinking things were their idea, even if that thing is bad for them. Listen, I love my parents, but they’re not the smartest cookies in the jar, ok? And Olga’s awful at reading people, so it’s a miracle that she found a nice guy to marry and not another scam artist, like her last three boyfriends.”
“Hmm. He seems like an annoying guy, Helga.”
Helga exhaled long and loud and sat on a box beside Patty. “He’s sad. But yeah, he is also the worst.”
Patty asked, “Why don’t you ask your friends for help?”
“I don’t want any of them getting mixed up with Angelo. He holds a grudge like crazy. Besides, Angelo won’t hurt me . He wants me to be his friend. I just need to keep Angelo away from them until I can figure out how to get him not to bother anyone anymore.”
“Hmm, alright. I trust your judgement. But even if you can handle him yourself, I don’t know why no one can know about you spending time with him. If he’s prone to trouble, wouldn’t it be good to tell someone so they can back you up if Angelo gets you in trouble, too?”
“Doi, that’s why I’m telling you, Pats.”
“Yes, but why aren’t you telling Arnold?”
Helga sighed and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. “I’m enough to deal with as it is. You saw how I blew up at the dance and caused a bunch of craziness during the presidential elections. I barely was able to become his girlfriend. I can’t be any more of a burden to him.”
“A girlfriend isn’t a burden.”
“Yes, that’s my point, I shouldn’t be one. I like him so much and for so long, and I’ve worked hard to be a new me that’s someone worth having around. If it was you, what would you do? After Harold finally said he liked you, would you risk him changing his mind by making him solve all your problems? Even your family problems?”
Patty looked sad thinking about Harold. She picked at a fuzzy pill on her sweater. “Hmm. No. I would be so happy, I wouldn’t want him to think I’m only using him to clean up my messes. Besides, it’s my job to deal with my family. I get it, Helga.”
“Right. Angelo is a sad guy who thinks I will somehow make him less sad by being sad with him, but that’s not true. So I just need to help him see that. Or get rid of him. And anyway, Arnold’s the one who taught me to always do what you can. I know I can handle it because he showed me how to never give up and stand up for what’s right. That’s how I recognized Angelo wasn’t who I wanted to be friends with in the first place.”
Patty nodded thoughtfully. “Alright. I’ll pretend we’re rehearsing together whenever you need me to.”
“Thank you, Patty.”
“And if you ever need me to have your back, just let me know. I don’t do boxing every summer for nothing.” Patty lifted her fist, smiling at Helga.
Helga burst out laughing, picturing Patty, broad and girly, facing off against the lean Angelo’s pretty face. “Sheesh, no, he’s not a fighter at all. A punch from you would send his head flying right off!”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m offering.”
“Pfft. I knew you were my kinda gal. Patty, I’m sorry we weren’t better friends when we were kids. I’m sorry for when I was a jerk to you.”
“Well, that’s alright. I wasn’t very good at making friends, either, and I seem to remember giving you a black eye more than once.”
“Ha, yeah, you sure did. You were the only person I was truly scared of.”
“Sorry. But we’re friends now. Right?”
They smiled at each other. Then Helga said, “By the way, how’s it going with Harold? Does he come to rehearsals after school like I told him to?”
“You told him to do that? Eugene keeps saying he doesn’t have to come. As a stagehand he only needs to show up for the last week of rehearsals to practice moving set pieces and props, he doesn’t need to be here now.”
“Well, yeah, but then how will he know the right pacing and stuff if he isn’t very familiar with the play? Besides, he’s probably only coming because he’s curious about which girl in the play has a crush on him.”
Patty’s face turned murderous. “You told him that?”
“Relax, I didn’t say who! But he was blubbering about Rhonda and her new boyfriend all the time, so he needed some reason to start thinking about other options.”
Patty’s mouth opened and then shut. Her murderousness deflated.
Helga patted her arm. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna embarrass you. I’m a girlfriend, so let me use my wisdom and knowledge to help you out.”
Patty looked shy then. “Well, I guess it’s ok…I do enjoy spending time with him at rehearsal.”
“See? All according to plan.”
“It’s not like they need me as an understudy to rehearse very often, so I get to talk to him a lot.”
The music on stage stopped, and Eugene was shouting at people for corrections. But Helga grabbed Patty and shoved her onto the stage, shouting, “Move aside, you dorks! Take five, Tami—it’s my friend Patty’s turn to rehearse!”
“So then Harold said, no, that’s not how it works, but when I asked, ok so how does it work? He literally couldn’t give me a straight answer, he was like, oh, er, you know, you just kinda figure it out as you go. Like, what’s so hard about it? Seriously, what’s so hard about it? Do you know?” Sid stopped pacing and turned to Arnold.
Without looking up from his notebook, Arnold said, “For the third time, Sid, I’ve never played Battletoads.”
It was Tuesday afternoon, not long after school had ended. Arnold was sitting in the student council room, where he was less likely to be bothered, finishing a math assignment he hadn’t gotten to yet. Gerald and the rest of the Varsity team had bussed to the next town over earlier that day for a game against another high school team, so there was no practice for the J.V. team. The school bus had left half an hour earlier, but Arnold had stayed behind finishing some things up while the school was quiet. His plan only worked until Sid, who had stayed after school to retake a biology quiz he’d failed, had found him and decided to wait around so they could take the city bus home together.
Sid waved him off. “Right, right, but like, let’s say you had and you beat it, because you’re awesome, and you were thinking, wow, my friends would like this—who would you instinctively think would be better at it, me or Harold?”
“I don’t know. You?” Arnold said, humoring him. He wasn’t doing a very good job of focusing on math, especially with Sid around. He sketched an arched window on a brick building in the margins of his paper as Sid continued.
“Thank you, yes, this is my point. Harold, like, wrestles and lifts weights and dates Rhonda, but I’m like a bigger…nerd?…ok, so, not a great comparison, because fine, whatever, he’s allowed to be two things. I myself am a man of many faces and excel at many things. Right?”
“Sure, Sid.”
Sid resumed pacing in front of the desks. “I am a man of many talents. And qualities. And I’m not half-bad looking. Like I am half-bad looking, but also half not bad, so like, it’s a mix, I admit that. But is that the biggest crime in the world? Why is it so hard for me to find a girlfriend? Why hasn’t she appeared yet?”
And there it was. Arnold had been waiting for Sid’s rant to circle around to dating again. The poor guy was really spiraling about it lately, and Arnold had a feeling it was partially because of him. Several of their friends had been in and out of relationships recently, and perhaps Sid being so involved with helping Arnold win Helga over and being with them during the elections had given him a front row seat to watching them get together.
Arnold was a bit torn between feeling bad for Sid, and feeling elated he had something that made Sid want what he had.
Arnold had passed the drama room hoping Helga would be at play rehearsal. She hadn’t been there. She had told him that Eugene had scheduled her for a bunch of obnoxious extra rehearsals to make up for her missing rehearsal all of last month, but he should have known she’d skip anyway. If she was going to be skipping rehearsal, Arnold should have planned better and asked if she wanted to hang out with him before he had to go to work at five-thirty. Maybe if nothing else he could call her and talk for a bit. As soon as he got home and shook Sid off, he’d call her.
His first paycheck had come from Parfume d’A yesterday, and to his delight it had been even bigger than he had been expecting. He was eager to tell Helga about it, but he would keep it a secret from her for now. Gerald was making decent tips at work, too, so they had plans to go Christmas shopping together. Arnold had ideas floating around for his date with Helga, but he should probably get her a gift as well, right? He moved on to sketching a scaffolding above the windows in his margins, wondering what kind of gift Helga would like.
He jumped when a familiar voice said from a few feet behind him, “Well, what d’ya expect, Sidney? An angel to fall out of the sky and fall in love with you?”
He turned to see Helga sitting in a desk a few seats behind and to the right of him, her legs resting on the desktop, her black combat boots crossed at the ankles. In the desk beside her was Agatha, doodling on a piece of paper. At Arnold’s astonishment, Helga made a face at him.
“What are you so jumpy about?” she asked.
“Where’d you come from?” he demanded.
“What do you mean, I’ve been here for like ten minutes,” she said.
“You have?”
“Come on, football head, is that math homework so interesting you didn’t notice your own angelic girlfriend coming in the back door and sitting three feet away?”
Arnold didn’t say that he had, actually, been thinking about her so hard that he hadn’t noticed her come in behind him.
“See, see!” Sid accused, pointing at Helga with the teacher’s pointer stick. “You just said it! Helga, you practically did fall out of the sky! You expect me to believe your old school burning down wasn’t an act of god? That Arnold, who could have had practically any girl already here, instead had a girlfriend hit him on the head out of nowhere, like Isaac Newton discovering gravity?”
“Girlfriends don’t grow on trees, ya monkey,” Helga told him flatly. “You ever think you’re having a hard time in the dating arena because you’re trying way too hard in all the wrong ways?”
“Ughhh yes!” Sid moaned, putting his head in his hands. “I know! I’m a mess!”
“Yes, well. At least you’re aware.”
They watched Sid bemoaning his life for a moment. Then Arnold turned back to Helga.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I thought you’d be hanging around doing whatever you do since there’s no practice today. So figured I’d find you and keep you company for a bit.” She glanced at Sid. “Or rather, I thought I could fend off any noobs who might be trying to distract you.”
Sid was too distracted by his own spiraling thoughts to notice them now, pounding his head against the chalkboard.
Arnold said, “You weren’t at rehearsal so I thought you’d gone home.”
She blinked at him. Then she grinned. “And I couldn’t find you in the library. So, what, you were on one side of the school looking for me and I was on the other side looking for you? Real ships in the night, eh?”
Ha, that was how Arnold felt about their lives in general at the moment. Only four more weeks. “Is it ok for you to always be skipping rehearsal?”
“I don’t skip.” He raised his eyebrows, so she amended, “I won’t skip anymore, I mean. But right now they don’t need me, so I dipped.”
“Eugene will have a stroke if you keep doing that.”
“Eugene has me under 24/7 on-call rehearsal notice, so he’ll be fine if I ditch sometimes. Is it a crime for a girl to see her boyfriend once in a blue moon?”
“No!” Sid said from the front, where he had slumped over the teacher’s desk. “It’s a beautiful, beautiful thing!”
“Criminy,” Helga muttered, sharing a concerned look with Arnold.
“He’s been like this all day. He’ll be fine. Probably,” Arnold said. Perhaps the right thing to do would be to encourage her to go to practice, but the secret selfish part of him liked it when she was around. Besides, she surely wouldn’t be skipping rehearsal unless she was confident she didn’t need to be there, so it couldn’t be all bad if he was a little selfish. He said, “I’m glad you're here.”
She perked up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Did you decide when you want to go on our date?” He had asked her yesterday, and she had told him she needed to check her schedule.
She snapped her fingers. “Yes I did! December 22nd.”
Arnold raised his eyebrows. “December 22nd? Isn’t that your final dress rehearsal before the Christmas play on the 23rd?”
“Righto, maestro.”
“Won’t you be crazy busy all day?”
“During the day, yeah. But Eugene has guaranteed I will be done by 4P.M. Well, I told him I wouldn’t stay longer than that, so he had to agree. Anyway, after that, I’m free as a bird.”
“Are you sure? You won’t be tired?”
“Pish posh. I’m nothing but energy. Is that day ok for you, though? It’s really close to Christmas, won’t you need to be working? Like I said, it’s ok to go on a date later.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m working in the morning that Saturday, so I’ll be free in the evening.” He had requested the morning shifts for every weekend this month, anyway, not knowing when Helga would be free to hang out.
“Well, good, then,” Helga said with a smile. “I already know what I’m getting you.”
“You’re getting me something?” He smiled. “What is it?”
She looked at him like he was stupid. “Do you even know how presents work? Why would I tell you? Although right now, I’m getting you something else.” She sat up, sliding her legs off the desk. She snapped her fingers at Sid, who was still slumped over the desk, moaning. “Hey, Sid!”
Sid lifted his head, a few of the teacher’s sticky notes stuck to his cheek. “Me?”
“Yes, you, dumbass.” She gestured to the desk seat in front of her. “Step into my office. I’m about to solve your love life.”
“What? You are?” Sid jumped up and ran down the aisle, skidding into the seat in front of her. “How?”
Helga put her elbows on the desk, steepling her fingers together. “It just so happens I’ve taken an interest in matters of the heart recently. My matchmaking services are now open.”
“What? Matchmaking? You’re going to find me someone, Helga?”
“Only if you swear you won’t tell anyone about this. It will ruin my other plans. You got me, Sid? If I hear a word of this from your lips I will rip them off and then you’ll be kissing no one ever. Capiche?”
Sid clapped a hand over his mouth and nodded several times. Arnold laughed, which caught Helga’s attention.
“As you were, Mr. President,” Helga told him, waving him back to his homework. Then she said to Agatha, “Aggie, take notes.”
Agatha stopped drawing and turned a page in her sketchbook. She turned her wide pink eyes on Sid, her pencil hovering expectantly.
Helga cracked her knuckles. “Ok, Sid. Let’s talk.”
Arnold turned back to his homework, chuckling as Sid began detailing his long list of troubles and what his dream girl might be like.
“A purse?” Gerald asked.
“Does Phoebe ever carry a purse?” Arnold asked.
“New shoes?”
“No. Weird.”
“A complete encyclopedia set?”
“She has two of those and a computer.”
Gerald veered off the main path of the mall walkway. He collided with the nearest shop window and leaned his cheek against it. He put a hand on the glass and let it slide down, squeaking loudly. “What am I supposed to do, Arnold?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know. I’m thinking.” Arnold put his hands on his hips, looking around at the mall as though he might find an idea somewhere hiding.
It was Sunday evening and the mall was packed with crowds and families three weeks before the holidays. Music blared over the speakers and shoppers hurrying to and fro, some jolly some, some clearly filled with anxiety. Gerald definitely wasn’t the only panicking person, although currently he was the only one pouting against a display window, looking at the mannequins inside who were dressed in Santa outfits, gifting each other overpriced sunglasses.
“Do you think she wants sunglasses?” Gerald asked pathetically.
“No. Come on, we need inspiration from somewhere else.” Arnold pulled Gerald away and pushed him to the escalator. They rode it up, considering new shop options as they wandered across the upper levels.
A brightly lit sign ahead sat in front of a wall of windows and a glass door. Several people moved in and out, and as they got closer, Arnold could see the aisles of the store were full of people. Outside the front there was a new cardboard standee, which Arnold could see between people as they walked around it, some of them pausing to admire the pretty girl. It was cardboard Olga Pataki, with a shiny gold miniskirt dress, gold makeup, and a bubble of pink bubble gum blown out of her mouth. To her ear she held a slim black new cell phone. In her other hand, with sharp gold fingernails, she held a sign at a jaunty angle that said I Want BIG BOB’S MOBILE AND BEEPER EMPORIUM for the Holidays!
As they walked past the store, Arnold lingered outside the window, looking in among the aisles and shiny shelf displays of electronics. Posters hung on the walls with more pictures of Olga, laughing and talking on different phones or wearing headphones. The biggest photo was on the back wall, of a giant Olga in a crown that hung crooked across her forehead. The crowd kept moving around, and Arnold was wishing he was taller right when he spotted the blonde head he was looking for.
Helga stood at the counter in the middle of the store, in a blue polo shirt with the same gold crown logo that hung around the shop. She was talking to some customers and pointing at a pamphlet with a bored expression.
“Oh ho ho!” Gerald said next to him. “So is this why you wanted to shop all the way over here at the East Side mall? You knew your lady love was working today?”
Arnold gave him a little smile and shrug.
“Are we just standing out here or are we going in to say hi?” Gerald asked.
“No, we shouldn’t. She’s busy.” She had warned him not to come, but he wouldn’t have minded saying hi to her anyway, except that it really was crowded in there, and he didn’t want to throw her off when she was working. Maybe he could just wave through the window if he caught her eye.
“Dang, the girl looks bored out of her mind,” Gerald said. “Yeesh, she’s probably great at handling the really crappy customers, though, huh? She doesn’t take anyone’s shit.”
At that moment Helga was tapping a finger against her arm, raising an annoyed eyebrow at the woman in front of her. Then Helga leaned a hand on the counter with narrow eyes and the woman animatedly became more angry. The woman bumped over the stack of pamphlets onto the floor. Helga snarled, and Arnold and Gerald shared a worried look, knowing she was about to rip into the woman.
Then to both of their surprise, Helga threw down her pamphlet on the counter and shouted loud enough they could hear her through the glass: “Angelo!”
Arnold’s eyebrows shot up.
“Did she say Angelo?” Gerald asked.
“Yeah,” Arnold said.
Helga had turned to the corner of the store where a tall young man in an Emporium blue polo was standing with other customers. At her call, the boy turned to her. He excused himself from the people he was with and walked over to the counter to stand beside Helga. She said something to him and pointed at the woman, at which the woman pointed back angrily. Angelo responded to the woman with a charming smile, gently pushing Helga’s pointing finger down.
“Well, he’s kinda hot stuff,” Gerald said with some surprise. “He’s Helga’s brother-in-law, right? Or her sister’s brother-in-law, anyway. Does that make him related to Helga? I don’t know how that all works.”
“Me neither,” Arnold admitted.
“I didn’t know he was working here, too.”
“Me neither.”
He watched Helga huff behind Angelo as he talked the woman down. The woman seemed to calm somewhat, so Angelo gestured for her to step over to the register with him. Helga stomped to the other side of the counter to help a different customer.
“Well. He doesn’t look too bad, although that doesn’t say much. I mean, Curly’s good looking, but he’s a spawn from the underworld,” Gerald said. “Seems like they’re working together alright, though. Is it for show or is it for real?”
“I don’t know,” Arnold replied.
Gerald raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t know? She doesn’t talk to you about work?”
“I mean, she says it’s annoying and tiring. But it’s only been a week. This is only the third shift she’s worked since she started.”
“Hmm, yeah. Well, knowing Helga, if she had something to complain about she wouldn’t hold back. So that Angelo guy must be getting along with her well enough.”
Arnold watched Helga help the next set of customers, checking them out and handing them a blue paper bag with the golden crown on it. Angelo finished checking out the troublesome woman and waved her goodbye cheerfully. The woman exited the store and walked past Arnold and Gerald. Arnold heard her say to her friend, “Well, thank goodness there was someone professional around! That girl wasn’t really Emporium material; just look at how sweet the girl on all the posters looks!”
At the same time Arnold heard that, he saw Angelo lean toward Helga, whispering with a sharp smirk and nodding his head in the direction of the woman who had just left. Helga snickered, then said something back. Angelo laughed. Then she left him to work the counter and headed into the back of the store, disappearing out of Arnold’s sight. Angelo turned his once-again charming-smile to the next customer.
Arnold eyed the handsome, dark haired boy. Phoebe had said he wasn’t a very nice person, and Helga had avoided talking about him. Yet Arnold could see that she worked easily with him, as if she was familiar with doing it. Maybe their relationship wasn’t as bad as Phoebe had thought it was. Although if that was the case, then what was the meaning of Helga’s odd reactions when Arnold had mentioned him the other night?
Arnold’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. To his surprise, it was a text from Helga. She must be on break in the back now—or maybe she was merely hiding out for a minute.
She had sent, I don’t know how you work with obnoxious customers all day. Are you sure you’re human and not something holier than this mortal plane? Only two hours into a shift and I want to murder EVERYONE in this mall.
Pretty sure I’m just human, he replied. I won’t stop you from murdering any awful holiday shoppers.
He hesitated, and then added, How’s work going otherwise? Getting along with your coworkers?
Her replies were quick—first, Good because I might actually kill someone. Then, My manager is my dad, so decidedly not. He might be the first person I kill.
Arnold looked back up at the smiling boy standing at the store counter.
“Arnold!” Gerald suddenly exclaimed, making Arnold jump.
“What is it?” Arnold asked, looking at Gerald’s wide smile.
“I know what to get Phoebe!” He pointed at an advertisement in the window for a new watch that tracked your running time. In the advertisement it was worn on the wrist of someone pictured running through space.
“Does she even like running?” Arnold asked.
“No, not the watch—come on! We have to go to the planetarium.”
Giddy with inspiration at last, Gerald hurried to lead the way out of the mall. Arnold looked back into the store once more, but the blonde he wanted to see was still gone in the back. At the front, among the many smiling posters of Olga and the logos of the Pataki family business, Angelo didn’t seem bothered to pick up the slack for Helga.
What exactly is that guy’s deal, Arnold wondered.
“Is it her?” Harold asked.
“Nope,” Helga replied.
“Is it her?”
“Wrong again.”
“You didn’t even look, Helga.”
“I didn’t need to, Berman. I knew it wasn’t her.”
“I’ve asked about practically every girl in the cast and crew! I’m starting to think you lied to me that a girl liked me, just to get me to help you practice.”
Helga grabbed the script he had put down and threw it at him. He caught it before it hit him in the face.
“Will you stop being idiotic and get back to the page?” Helga snapped. “I didn’t lie to you. She’s perfectly real, but she’s not going to turn into a pumpkin if you don’t figure out who she is before midnight tonight, so can you focus on me, please, peabrain?”
Harold gave her a nasty look, but smoothed out the script.
They were sitting backstage in the auditorium among the curtains and pulleys and piles of props. It was Friday night, two weeks before the big play, and the cast and crew were in full swing. Today was the first day they were rehearsing in the auditorium instead of the drama room, and the Freshmen in the cast were poking around in all the corners to find something interesting. Helga had told them not to wander into the storage room under the stage in case they accidentally got locked in and almost choked to death because of the smoke machine.
Helga had commandeered Harold to help her finish memorizing her lines. He wasn’t very busy unless they practiced a scene transition and he had to carry out a table or roll out a clocktower, so Eugene hadn’t yelled at Helga for monopolizing him yet.
“Do you hear that, spirit? The opera has never sounded so good to my ears,” Helga said blandly, stretching out her legs to rest on the chair beside her and using her script to fan herself. Eugene had really gotten on her about learning the dance moves tonight and she was still sweating half an hour later.
Harold was looking around the stage and the audience seats at all the people rehearsing or painting set pieces. He didn’t have to look at the script to respond to Helga, “Nay, not so, Ebeneza. There was a time when the opera always filled you with the warmth of Christmas, was there not?”
He was almost as memorized as Helga was at this point. Helga would have called it quits, except Eugene had told her she had to pass off the whole script to him that night so she could prove she had it down. That’s what she got for skipping rehearsal so often.
Her plan for using the play as a cover for getting out of working with Angelo too often and instead spending time with Arnold was working. As a girlfriend, she was certainly supposed to be available whenever Arnold needed her. Plus, she liked hanging out with him. So if he had a free hour between basketball practice and work, she could schedule a “private rehearsal” that she simply couldn’t miss. Since there was a big rehearsal scheduled for today, she had gotten her father and Angelo to think she had to be there all night after school to practice. Which she was doing, partly—but first she had gone to the gym right after school to watch Arnold’s basketball game. It was a home game, which was convenient for Helga’s needs, so she had sat with Teri and Agatha and Phoebe and Gerald to watch their friends face off against the visiting team. During halftime, Helga had run to the auditorium so Sheena could fit her for her costume. Then Helga had run back to cheer as Arnold, Stinky, and Lenny and the team beat the other school’s team.
The game had ended, and Helga had left her friends to go back to rehearsal, thanking Patty and Lila for covering for her. Both girls were on stage currently, running through the big dance number before intermission, where the Phantoms of Christmas kidnapped Christine Daae so she could reunite with Ebeneza Scrooge in the second act.
Helga’s phone buzzed, and she checked it. There was a message from a nameless number: It’s so boring here without you.
Helga snorted. It was his fault he had gotten himself a job at Big Bob’s Emporium just to get her to spend time with him. So that idiot could suffer at the mall all by himself.
Working with Angelo wasn’t as bad as Helga had worried. It helped that there were lots of customers to deal with and inventory to stock and Bob to keep happy. She did think Angelo was funny from time to time, and it was nice to have someone to share an annoyed expression with when a customer was being rude. Each time, though, she knew Angelo thought she was coming around to his side again. She wasn’t. Any nice things she might have thought about him were always destroyed by his own actions. At work, Helga kept having to change back the payment dates in the database whenever Angelo got bored and changed them, and more than once she’d had to talk Bob out of thinking a business idea Angelo had suggested was a good idea.
At home this week, Angelo had absently convinced Miriam to blow a misunderstanding out of proportion with one of her yoga friends, causing a fight and several tears in the middle-aged women’s friend group. Helga was pretty sure Angelo hadn’t even planned to do it—he simply had a need to undermine things when people were “pretending to be too good.”
Helga had cornered her mother and unpacked the misunderstanding, convincing her to apologize to her friend. She had suggested to her mother that Angelo might not have the best advice on friendships, to which Miriam had said Angelo hadn’t advised her to do anything, it had all been Miriam’s idea. Helga had sighed, and the next time she’d seen Angelo, she had told him to stop talking to her mother all the time. He had informed her innocently that he was always on his best behavior with the Patakis, for Helga’s sake. Then he’d laughed and asked just how dumb Helga thought Miriam’s yoga friends were.
Miriam and Bob didn’t notice Angelo’s influence, and as for Angelo, this might actually be his version of his best behavior. Either way, it was a recipe for Helga to have a headache whenever she wasn’t at school. These days she actually looked forward to homework and classes.
At least Angelo’s bad habits were still isolated to the realm of the Patakis. He was enrolled at Darvill High on the other side of town, although he didn’t go very often. If Helga could get him to go there and make his own horrible friends, or minions, maybe he’d get bored of her. Or better yet, if she could convince Olga and Danny to have him move in with them, then he’d be three thousand miles away. Then again, Helga would be worried about Olga and Danny, so that wasn’t great either. She hadn’t figured out the best solution quite yet.
And in the meantime, she was stuck rehearsing a ridiculous play while Harold was still eyeing all the girls nearby, completely oblivious that the girl who was in love with him was coming toward them from the other side.
“Helga,” Harold whispered to her, looking at Patty and Lila. “It’s not Lila, is it?”
“Of course not, you big macaroon,” Helga whispered back.
Harold nodded, looking a bit relieved, and Helga appreciated that about him. She dropped her script in her lap as Patty and Lila reached them.
“Hi, Helga! Eugene says we’re on break while the boys run through their vocals again. Are you almost ready for your next scene?” Lila asked. She was in dance tights and a loose shirt layered over her tank top. She patted at the sweat on her pretty freckled face with a towel. Helga had seen more than one boy in the cast eyeing her during rehearsals.
Helga was absolutely not ready, but she didn’t have a choice. She had promised Eugene she would be ready, so she had to be. Even if she had skipped rehearsal to hang out with Arnold one too many times, and hadn’t had as much time to memorize lines between homework, work, and cleaning up after Angelo’s chaotic tendencies.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Helga said.
“Think you can handle the sword fighting choreography?” Patty asked. Patty was similarly dressed, although she looked much less like a dancer and more like a bodybuilder in her matching blue yoga pants and tank top set. She seemed happy and energized every time she came back from singing and dancing in the ensemble. Helga thought it was a shame she was only the understudy and wouldn’t get to play the role she wanted.
“I live for nothing else,” Helga replied. Helga herself was not in dance clothes. The most she had done was shed her sweatshirt and now only wore her pink tank top. She wished she had been on top of it enough to bring something better than the torn jeans and boots she was sweating in under the stage lights.
“Sword fighting? Wait, you get a sword, Helga?” Harold asked. He turned to Patty. “Do you get a sword, Patty?”
“Nah, I’m not in the fight scene,” Patty said.
“Aw, bummer.”
“I get to wear a huge ballgown, though.”
“Yeah? Well, I guess that’s something.”
Patty sat beside Harold, who moved to make room for her on his bench. They fell into an easy conversation, as they usually did. Helga thought the two looked like they matched sometimes—both tall, broad, and muscular, with an intimidating presence that covered up a big soft center. If they got married, they would have superpowered Jewish babies that won all the state championships.
As Patty and Harold became wrapped up talking to each other, Lila shared a knowing smile with Helga. Lila giggled.
“How’s it going with your boy?” Helga asked quietly.
Lila stopped giggling and cleared her throat, glancing around. “I don’t know. He never seems eager to talk to me very long, and he’s so difficult to read.”
“Hmm. I could see that. Want me to talk to him?”
“No! Well…I don’t know? You were always close with him when we were young. I’m certain he’d always be willing to talk to you.”
Had it seemed like Helga and Brainy were close back in the day? And did Lila look a little jealous about it? Very weird.
Lila pulled on a green sweater with white daisies on it, then fished a compact mirror out of her bag and checked her hair in it.
“What’s with the primping, princess? Are you planning on finding Brainy right this second?” Helga asked.
Lila shook her head and closed her compact. “No, I have something I need to take care of with Arnold in a few minutes.”
“With Arnold? Wasn’t he going home after the game?”
“We have a meeting with the Senior class presidency, which we had to push back late since Arnold had a game after school. I’m certain it won’t take long.” Lila smiled at Helga and stood up. “I’ll be back soon, please don’t let Eugene be worried.”
“Yeah, sure.” Helga watched Lila exit stage right and head out the door. Somewhere out there she would meet up with the love of Helga’s life.
He’s still under the same roof as me, Helga thought. The same stars, the same moon, always; but currently we still share the same roof. How silly that knowing that makes me so lighthearted?
She glanced at Harold, but he was caught up in conversation with Patty now, and Helga doubted she could wrangle his attention back to help her with her lines again. Which was a good sign; Patty and him really did get along, and Helga’s efforts making sure they spent more time together seemed to be helping. Which meant even though Helga was anxious she wasn’t ready to pass off her lines with Eugene, she had already forgotten half her dance steps, and she had dropped the sword in the fight scene four times, she couldn’t very well go and interrupt Patty and Harold now.
Helga stood up to stretch, then wandered over to the prop table and picked up the plastic rapier assigned to her. She swung it a few times, then went to see if Eugene was free so he could show her the moves again. Eugene was in front of the stage, but he was clearly dissolving into an anxious wreck because of the off-key chorus of boys. The boys winced while Eugene tore up the sheet music into a million pieces. Then Eugene tripped over a shoelace and the rest of the sheet music went flying into the air as Eugene fell between the audience seats. Jason, the cute boy who followed Eugene around these days, ran to help.
Pfft, guess he’s busy. Helga went backstage again to find a space where no one would notice her clumsily practicing swinging a sword.
She didn’t get very far before she noticed someone who shouldn’t be there hiding between racks of costumes. Lenny was sitting on the floor, changed out of his basketball jersey into a sweatshirt, his chin in both his hands, smiling. He watched Sheena who was working nearby, managing the table of accessories and racks of miscellaneous costume pieces. Two assistants ran around near her, rearranging costume pieces and pinning pieces for tailoring.
Lenny heaved a dreamy sigh as Sheena took a pin from her mouth and stabbed it into an ascot. Helga rolled her eyes.
“Lenny, what the hell are you doing here?” she said, walking up to him. She brandished the plastic rapier at his nose. “Are you getting in peoples’ way?”
“No way! I’m being super helpful,” Lenny assured her.
One of the costume assistants walked by and said, “Safety pin!”
Lenny held up a little plastic box full of safety pins, and the girl grabbed one before returning to the costume she was working on.
“See, Pataks? Helpful,” Lenny said.
Helga poked him on the shoulder with the sword. “Right, sure. And the fact Sheena’s here has nothing to do with you being here right now?”
“Well, of course. If my angel is in the vicinity, I gotta be there. Besides, I needed to tell her how we won the game tonight!”
Helga glanced at Sheena a few feet away, who had pencils sticking out of her ponytail, measuring tapes hanging around her neck, and a clipboard in her hand that she was checking and rechecking. She didn’t look overly concerned about the basketball score.
Helga had cautiously broached the topic of romance with Sheena a few days ago, but she hadn’t seemed obviously interested or uninterested in Lenny or anyone else. Helga wasn’t sure if that meant Lenny had a chance yet; she supposed in the meantime, if he wasn’t getting in her way, it might be good for him to hang around so Sheena could get to know him.
Helga crouched down beside him, tapping the sword on Lenny’s shoulder to draw him closer to her. “Alright, Len, listen up. I have a tip for you.”
“You do? What is it?” Lenny leaned in eagerly.
“Sheena’s a working woman, so don’t get in her way, ok? And don’t go hitting on her when she’s worried about other things, it’ll just piss her off. Be useful to her assistants, carry things for them and crap like that. Compliment the costumes.”
“Be useful. Compliments.” Lenny was nodding way too much and Helga wondered what exactly he was hearing.
“Also, do not—I repeat, do not —make any jokes about bugs or barf or any inanities like that. Got it?”
“Got it, got it. Barf. Inanities.” Lenny was still nodding, and Helga hoped he wasn’t hearing the opposite of what she was saying.
“She likes nice things,” said a voice above them, a voice Helga knew all too well.
Helga looked up to see Arnold standing there. He had changed out of his jersey and was in a pale green long sleeved shirt and dark jeans. His hair looked a little wet from the showers.
“Sheena likes things like flowers and lace and petting zoos. When you do talk to her, talk about nice things,” Arnold said.
“Ok! Yes! Nice things…” Lenny looked thoughtful—although it was always a little hard to tell with his hair hanging over his eyes.
Then Sheena asked a few yards away, “What happened to the safety pins?” and Lenny sprung up and hurried over to her, holding the box of pins out like an offering to an altar.
Helga shook her head at her dorky friend and stood. “That dope’s hopeless,” she said.
“You can’t think your clients are hopeless. It’s the number one rule as a matchmaker,” Arnold said.
“Since when? Shouldn’t I know when to tell them to call it quits?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be optimistic about everyone. I think it comes as part of the whole believing in love thing.”
He smiled at her in a way that made her heart skip a little. She swung her sword around a few times and said casually, “That must have been a quick meeting you had. What happened to Lila?”
“No, I haven’t done the meeting yet. I was just looking for Lila, do you know where she went?”
“Criminy, you two are way too busy, I swear you’re both losing your heads. She left a minute ago to find you. Come on, this way.” Helga waved her sword for him to follow her.
They crossed the back of the stage, dodging two stage hands carrying a ladder, and a third with an oversized basket of plastic fruit and a rubber turkey.
“What’s with the sword?” Arnold asked as they went.
“Eugene’s newest idea to embarrass me,” Helga replied.
“So you’re in a fight scene now? How’s that going?”
Helga shot him a smirk, resting the sword against her shoulder. “Let’s just say I’m a natural at many things.”
Arnold chuckled. “I believe you.”
Damn my big mouth, she thought. Now Helga had even more pressure to get her choreography under control.
They popped out the side door of the stage and headed down the hall toward the gym. They turned the corner and almost bumped into Lila.
“Oh, there you are, Arnold!” Lila said.
“Sorry, Coach Beezus had us held up for a few minutes. Should we go?” Arnold said.
“I’m ready! Are you coming along, Helga?”
“Me?” Helga replied. “Isn’t this strictly presidential business? I don’t want to be underfoot.”
“You wouldn’t be,” Arnold said. “You can come if you want.”
“You looked bored in there. If you’d like to tag along I’m certain that would be alright,” Lila said.
“I mean, I should probably practice…” Helga trailed off when she looked at Arnold smiling at her. He nodded his head toward the hallway ahead, gesturing for her to come with him. Damn, why was he so pretty. Plus, it wasn’t like she should say no if he needed her. “I mean, it’s not like I need the practice. Why not?”
“Wonderful!” Lila said.
Helga slid her rapier through her belt loop and fell into step beside Arnold, pretending she wasn’t worried about memorizing lines or dance steps. Lila led the way, reminding Arnold what this meeting was about and what their plan was. Behind her, Arnold’s shoulder bumped lightly against Helga’s.
“You sure you can come? Eugene won’t be mad?” Arnold asked her quietly.
“Did you not want me to come?” Oops, had she misread his gesture? “I can go back.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m glad you’re coming.” His fingers brushed against hers.
He had been much more touchy at school recently, much to Helga’s excitement and the detriment of her heart health. He never held her hand in the halls or anything like that; but there were tiny little touches that only Helga noticed. Sitting with his shoulder grazing hers in the library, touching the new earrings she wore to compliment them, his fingers on her elbow when he said something so only she could hear. The little touches felt like he was teasing her. She knew that wasn’t true, he was just a nice, touchy-feely kinda guy. But every casual touch made Helga forget everything else on her mind.
As they went up the stairs to the third floor, the Senior’s floor, Arnold let Helga go ahead of him, his fingers barely brushing her lower back. Holy cheeseballs, this obnoxiously angelic idiot who didn’t know he was driving people crazy should really be more careful with his hands. She wished he’d press his hand to her back and pull her in for a kiss instead. Which was why Helga never casually bumped into him—she didn’t think she could be trusted.
Helga never went up to the Senior’s floor, so she really wasn’t prepared for the long dim hallway of ominously orange and black banners that led to the Senior class president’s office. As they neared, Arnold took the lead, Lila and Helga flanking him on either side. Two Seniors standing sentry at the doors watched them suspiciously, but they opened the doors and let them through.
“He’s expecting you,” they said.
“Good,” Arnold replied.
Inside, the “office” was actually an unused classroom, which had been lined with more ugly orange banners, old couches, shag rugs, and a giant plush hedgehog hanging from the ceiling with a shiny plastic crown on its head. A dozen Seniors were around the room, some playing darts in a corner, some lounging on the couches. All of them were eyeing the trio of Sophomores as if they were trespassing on foreign soil. Helga glared back at them and stuck her tongue out at one particularly ugly boy who was eyeing Lila’s dance pants in a nasty way.
At the back of the room was a long desk and a large fluffy chair, and seated there was a boy Helga recognized from the elections. He watched Arnold approach his desk with a slightly curled lip, chewing on gum, a yellow pick sticking out of his fluffy black ‘fro.
“Jordan,” Arnold greeted.
“Arnold,” Jordan returned. “Your security carries swords now? How old fashioned.”
Arnold didn’t reply. Helga patted the hilt of her flimsy plastic sword, then raised an eyebrow at the Senior girl closest to her, who swallowed.
“You’ve read our proposal?” Jordan asked.
“I have,” Arnold said, crossing his arms. “We returned it this morning with several amendments.”
“Amendments?” Jordan snapped his fingers, and someone hurried to bring him a file. Jordan opened it and glanced inside. “The parking lot on Fridays? You have to be joking.”
“No joke. The Seniors are hardly here on Fridays, anyways, and come next semester they’ll be here even less. Not many Sophomores have cars, but those who do could use the closer parking on Fridays.”
“Hmm,” Jordan conceded. “And what do you mean by ‘no discriminatory rules for ticket sales for Prom?’”
“We’re ever so happy to let you have one hundred percent control of the theme, as you requested,” Lila said. “So long as there is no illicit regulation of ticket sales.”
“I’m sure you remember what happened last year,” Arnold added.
“Yes, I remember. My predecessor did us all dirty.” Jordan skimmed over the rest of the files contents. “Your amendments appear acceptable.”
Then someone from the group around the Senior president stepped forward. They were in a fancy black sweatshirt with the hood up, so Helga couldn’t quite see their face. She narrowed her eyes as the person whispered in the president’s ear. Something about them rubbed Helga wrong.
Then Jordan looked at Arnold with a frown. “Your amendment for the student council class to admit outside persons only once a month to offer suggestions—is this an attempt to keep influences you disagree with out of the discourse?”
“What? No, of course not,” Arnold replied. “That’s ridiculous. It’s merely to ensure the principal and the teaching faculty don’t accuse the student council of encouraging people to skip class too often. And besides, having a scheduled day for students to come and offer feedback would be way more manageable than letting them come whenever.”
The hooded person whispered in Jordan’s ear again, until he closed the file and set it down. Jordan said, “You know as well as I do that the Senior class last year cracked down on intra-grade conspiring, worried the younger grades would rise against them.”
“I’m aware.”
“Don’t forget, I was there for the elections, Arnold. I know what a fan favorite you are, even among the other grades; and of course with Miss Lila on your side, you’ve got half the student body willing to listen to you. Can you guarantee that this isn’t a ploy to shut out the other class presidencies and bolster your own influence?”
Helga couldn’t stop the scoff that escaped her. “What absolute bullshit is that? As if Arnold would do that. You’re getting information from either an idiot or a liar.” She jerked her chin toward the hooded person, whose body language let Helga know she had hit a nerve. Why did they seem so familiar?
“Who asked you, girl?” snarled the ugly Senior who had been eyeing Lila.
“Calm down, Ernest,” Jordan warned.
“Yeah, Ernest, calm down,” Helga sneered. The boy sneered back at her.
“It’s not any kind of attempt to do that,” Arnold replied to Jordan. “I’m all for intra-grade communication. In fact, if it will prove my good will, I’d be happy to suggest ambassadors.”
“What do you mean, ambassadors?” Jordan asked.
“A student from each grade, assigned to another grade as a liaison,” Lila explained.
“A liaison, hmm?” Jordan blew a bubble with his gum and let it pop. Then he said, “And I suppose you will choose the ambassador I have to work with?”
Arnold shrugged. “Not necessarily. If you’d like, I’m happy to let your current unofficial Sophomore informant continue working with you.”
Jordan looked like he liked the idea, but the hooded person next to him had gone stiff. Then Jordan stood up.
“Well, Arnold,” Jordan said, offering him a hand, “I believe you have yourself a deal.”
Arnold shook Jordan’s hand. “Great. We keep the proposal as-is with the amendments approved—and you keep Curly.”
“What, Curly?” Helga said, right before all hell broke loose.
The ugly Senior—Ernest—grabbed Lila by the arm, leering down at her. “Who needs that dork. Can’t we have Lila instead?”
At the same time, the hooded person lunged across Jordan’s desk, grabbing onto Arnold. His hood fell back, revealing Curly’s deranged scowl. “Me? Me? How dare you betray me by trading me to the Senior class! I won’t allow this, Arnold!”
“You’re the one who’s been secretly working with them for weeks!” Arnold said, trying to wrestle Curly off of him.
“Help!” Lila yelped, trying to pull her wrist out of the older boy’s hands.
Helga slid her sword from her belt loop and whipped it across Ernest’s face, leaving a red welt. The boy howled, dropping Lila. In a fancy move, Arnold overpowered Curly and threw him off the side of the desk, tossing him into the Seniors standing nearby and knocking them all over.
Helga helped Lila to her feet as Curly jumped up and shouted, “Seize them!”
Several Seniors rushed forward, even while Jordan was shouting, “Wait, wait! He doesn’t give the orders, I do!”
Arnold leapt over the large boy cradling his sword wound and grabbed Lila and Helga, running toward the door.
“Get them, get them, ahahaha!” Curly cackled, now standing on top of the president’s desk while the president himself put his hands on his hips in annoyance.
Helga glanced back at the insane idiot, then at the several Seniors hurrying after them. They would chase them through the whole school at this rate. She looked around wildly as Arnold shoved Lila through the door. He held it open, waiting for Helga.
“Come on, Helga!” he called to her.
“I’m comin’, give me a sec!” she shouted back.
Aha! There, only a few feet from the door, was a bundle of ropes tied to a light fixture that trailed up to the ceiling, keeping the giant hedgehog plushie aloft. Helga stepped out of her path, swiping her sword at it and knocking the light fixture to the ground with a shatter. The ropes sprung free, and Arnold pulled Helga through the door right as the hedgehog came down, knocking Curly off the table and tangling the pursuing Seniors in a flurry of ropes and stuffed hedgehog.
“Well, this wasn’t quite the plan,” Lila said and they ran back to the stairs.
“Sorry, Helga, that was a little more exciting than I thought it would be,” Arnold said.
“Yeesh, no kidding! Of course Curly had to make it crazy!” Helga said.
They were almost to the stairs when three Seniors, two football players and the captain of the girl’s volleyball team, burst out of the president’s office behind them, giving chase. Damnit, Helga wasn’t sure if she’d make it back to practice at all today. She was never going to get her lines passed off in time and Eugene would either kill her or break down sobbing, and both sounded terrible to Helga.
As the Sophomores flew down the stairs, keeping ahead of the Seniors, Helga said, “Damn, so much for your deal with the Seniors! Better luck next time, Mr. President.”
“No, don’t worry! A shake on a deal is law for the student council,” Lila said, breathless.
Helga gaped at them as they started down the last flight of stairs. “You mean they have to keep Curly now?”
“Yep. Any trouble he makes is their problem now,” Arnold said. Lila giggled.
“You two are shockingly diabolical!”
Arnold grinned at Helga. “Well, I’m glad you decided to come along. Nice swordsmanship, by the way. You are a natural.”
“What’d I tell ya?” Helga said, flipping the sword to her other hand. “Someone has to protect your precious ass, Mr. Prez.”
“You think my ass is precious?”
Helga almost fell down the rest of the stairs. Arnold barely caught her in time, and Lila had to cover a laugh.
Helga had danced until her feet hurt, brandished a sword until she had broken it in half and gotten scolded by Sheena, chugged four cans of medicine-tasting energy drink, poked herself in the eye with the mascara wand, fussed over her hair way too long, and finally snuck out the back of the auditorium when no one was looking. She did feel guilty about leaving the final dress rehearsal early, especially since she was the least prepared out of everyone. In the last two weeks, she had busted her ass getting ready for this dumb play, and if she had another five days she would have been perfectly on point. Alas, she only had twenty four hours, and in that time she had a date with Arnold and a long day shift at the Emporium to keep her from any more practice.
The shift at the Emporium tomorrow would start at six in the morning and be a subsequent eight hours of hell on earth with last minute Christmas shoppers and Angelo, the devil whose own frustration with work was slowly causing him to pick on said customers more and more. He was good with managing people—manipulating, really—but if someone annoyed him he made sure to do something about it. Yesterday he had charged a mother of three an extra two hundred dollars simply because her kids were crying too loud in the store. On Helga’s lunchbreak, she had snuck into the broom closet and called the woman, explained there was a mistake, and she would be refunded. She had been yelled at, then thanked, then the woman had started crying and Helga, exhausted, had been forced to listen to her sob story until her break was over. She had missed eating lunch.
Then Olga, who was already in town for Christmas, had “popped in to say hi” and caused a flurry of excitement when customers recognized her and crowded around to get her autograph. Helga had made the mistake of admitting her annoyance at her sister to Angelo, who had then decided to tell the next dozen customers that Olga was only the store model because she was terminally ill and they were doing her a favor, so no one should talk to her too long and make her tired. That had sobered up the festive spirit pretty quickly and made Olga confused when several people, in tears, handed her spare change.
It had been pretty funny, but Helga had refused to laugh and give Angelo any encouragement. It hadn’t worked. Angelo had been watching her with a knowing smirk, ready for Helga’s inadvertent snicker when one old woman offered to adopt Olga and pay for her hospital bills and Olga had to explain she was not an orphan and she had no hospital bills. Angelo had looked far too smug and Helga had regretted it the entire rest of the day.
Anyway, Helga’s sometimes-day-job at her father’s store was exhausting and in the way, and it was so busy that Helga hadn’t even had time to figure out what to do about Angelo.
But right now she didn’t have to think about work or family or the play or anything else. Her family thought she was staying late for the final rehearsal tonight—and none of them needed to know she had left early to go on a date with Arnold.
Criminy, I see him pretty much every day. Why is my heart beating so fast, then? She took a deep breath for the twentieth time, pressing a hand to her chest. I’m such a loser. Thank god he can’t see from the outside how lame I am.
At least she hoped he couldn’t tell from the outside. She had tried on five outfits yesterday, sent pictures of all of them to Phoebe and Agatha to get second opinions, and settled on a red velvet dress that flowed around her knees, black tights and red boots, and a long pale gray jacket with a pink lining. Her nails were even painted with little candy canes, courtesy of the matching manicure Olga and her mother had dragged her along to. She had done her hair and makeup in the girl’s locker room, and finished carefully packaging Arnold’s present in a large green bag with green tissue paper. All of which she had hid inside her old basketball duffle bag so none of the Patakis or DeMarcos would question why she needed fancy clothes or ask who the gift was for.
There was still singing and dancing going on in the auditorium as she had tiptoed toward the front door and slipped out into the night. Now she stood on the front stoop of the school, feeling giddy and anxious, waiting for Arnold.
She was a little early, but they had agreed he would pick her up right in that very spot, so she didn’t mind waiting. She took her phone out of her pocket and pressed the button to turn it on—she had turned it off during rehearsal, just in case Angelo or Olga or her mother or anyone else wanted to text her about annoying customers or picking up milk for breakfast in the morning or anything else annoying. As soon as it lit up, she went to text Arnold that he could take his time, but she was ready whenever—except then her phone starting buzzing over and over. She had thirty missed calls from people in her family—oh no, oh no.
Had something bad happened? Were they all dead? It hadn’t snowed yet that year but maybe there was ice on the road. No wait, they couldn’t all be dead, they had all called and texted her. But what about the baby?
She hurriedly opened her messages, trying to decipher what was going on and who she should call first, when her phone started ringing again—it was a nameless number.
She answered. “What happened?”
Angelo replied, “About time you answered. They’re really running you ragged over at that school, aren’t they?”
“Damnit, DeMarco, why is everyone calling and texting me to answer the phone ASAP? Who’s hurt?”
“No one’s hurt, honey, everyone’s alive. Although Danny and Olga sent pictures of them ice skating earlier that were so disgustingly Hallmark it made me really wish they would skate off a cliff. Are you done with rehearsal?”
Helga let out a relieved breath, then glanced at the school entrance behind her and the present in her hand. “Uh, no. Probably a few more hours? Why, what is everyone freaking out about?”
“Ok, well, find a way to get out of it, because your dad needs you at the store like six hours ago.”
“What the hell? I’ve had today scheduled off since I started working—you deal with it, I’m busy.”
“Yeah, unfortunately, it’s not just the regular bullshit. It’s actually really bad, so your dad—Oh, look, there you are. Why are you standing outside?”
Helga jolted, whipping around. There was no sign of anyone else around. Was he messing with her head? “What do you mean, I’m not outside.”
“Sure, right, like I don’t know what you look like.”
Helga squinted around the street again, but didn’t see anyone. Then she saw a large square sports car pull up outside the school gate. Even in the dark, she knew it was her dad’s car. It stopped, the headlights still on, and the driver’s door opened. Angelo got out and rounded toward the school.
“What the hell?” was all she could say into the phone. Then she hurried down the steps and toward him before he could enter the school gate.
“See, it is you standing outside,” he said as she neared. Then he looked her up and down. “Well, honey, you look lovely. Don’t tell me that’s your costume? Who’s the present for? Me?”
“You have three seconds to explain yourself before I throw you in that car and push it—”
“You know I love it when you threaten anyone with violence, but unfortunately, your dad sent me to get you. The supply shipment from Ronnie never came in.”
Helga stopped. “What? Yes it did, he said it was coming today at ten.” Was this some bizarre way for Angelo to monopolize her night? He didn’t know about Arnold—so he couldn’t have known tonight was important. That it was THE First Date, only just the one which Helga had been dreaming about for an ENTIRE decade. Was he pissed she had gotten out of working with him so often because of the play? But why would he pick tonight to do something about it?
She looked at him with narrowed eyes, trying to see if there was something “ulterior motive-y” under the calm expression on his pretty face. She didn’t see anything obvious.
Angelo shrugged one shoulder. “Actually, no. Ronnie never showed up with the shipment.”
“Yeah, right. If you’re trying to screw with me, I swear I’m not in the mood, DeMarco,” she said.
He raised a black eyebrow. “Why else do you think your dad’s had the whole family hunting you down like you’re human prey?”
Helga’s blood went cold. “What? Why wouldn’t Ronnie have shown up?”
“No idea. He’s giving us the run around, saying you submitted all the paperwork and didn’t schedule the delivery until Christmas Eve.”
“Christmas Eve! What good would that do us, that’s too late for anything—! Damnit, I was on the phone with him on Monday for three hours, how can he say I’m the problem. That mindless orangutan is the one who messed this up!”
Angelo scoffed, a sneer on his face. “Some people are born to be screw ups and fuck things up for the rest of us. It’s not your fault, Helga. I tried to help, but you know how Bob gets. He won’t talk to anyone but you right now.”
Helga gaped at him.
Ronnie was the idiotic shipper that her father worked with, and after Bob had gotten into a screaming match with him on the phone last week in front of customers, he had ordered Helga to deal with the man. They needed this last shipment by today—there were only two days until Christmas, and electronics and phones had been flying off the shelves—by tomorrow morning they might have nothing left to sell and no pre-ordered phones to give to customers who had ordered them months ago. They would be up to their eyeballs in complaints and demands for refunds. Her father was probably going absolutely ballistic right now, and evidently was passing that stress onto her mother and sister, as per usual.
Helga looked at the school, looked at the car, looked at the present in her hands. Damnit, what should she do?
“That son of a—I swear I’m going to—!” she cut off, pacing in a circle, wishing there was a trash can close by to kick. Angelo watched her with a half smirk, probably knowing exactly what she was wishing for. She stopped pacing and pinched the bridge of her nose.
Can’t I have one Christmas that isn’t completely hijacked by something insane my family does? Her sweet giddy anxiety had turned into a big ugly pain in her temple. She imagined it looked like Angelo’s face, and she wished she could punch it away, but that would probably give her a bigger headache.
Then her phone rang again—it was her father. She winced and answered, holding the phone away from her ear as Bob’s voice boomed through, “HELGA GERALDINE PATAKI, GET YOUR ASS HERE NOW AND FIGURE OUT THIS MESS BEFORE WE LOSE ALL OUR MONEY—”
“Ok, ok, I’m coming! Keep your crap together, dad, I’ll be there soon.” She hung up before he could do any more yelling. Then she said, “I’m going to hunt Ronnie down and kill him myself.”
“Goodie. I’ll help,” Angelo said, sounding icy. If he had been dealing with Bob in this condition for the last five hours, he was probably already on his last nerve. Helga hoped he hadn’t taken it out on anyone in some way Helga wouldn’t be able to reverse; she’d have to check as many records at work as she could when she had the chance. Damnit, this was not how this day was supposed to go.
Angelo was rounding the car back to the driver’s seat. “Hop in, honey.”
“Hold on. I need to make a call,” Helga said.
“Fine, do it in the car—”
“I’m doing it now, Angelo,” Helga snapped. He turned his icy eyes on her, but she didn’t care if she had pissed him off right now. She walked back to stand by the school gate, out of his earshot, and called Arnold. While it was ringing, Angelo tapped a finger against the door, before getting inside. Helga turned her back to him as Arnold answered.
“Hey!” Arnold said brightly. “What's up? You ready to go?”
She felt her heart sink through her body and into the cold, hard ground between her feet. “Arnold, I’m so, so sorry, but there’s an emergency at my dad’s store, and he’s completely losing his mind about it, and it might be my fault, except it isn’t, it’s stupid idiot Ronnie’s fault—but I have to see if I can do something to fix it. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh. Uh…” He sounded surprised. And maybe disappointed.
Damnit! She pressed her forehead to the cold brick of the gate, clutching the present close to her chest. She didn’t know what he had planned for their date, but Phoebe had told her he had really thought about it and she would love it. Now Helga had gone and wasted all his effort and time, which he had precious little of. Of course she had.
Then he said, “Is everything ok?”
“Yeah, it’s—it’s fine. Just a dumb shipping thing, but my dad will be hunting me down until it’s all sorted out. I’m really sorry.”
“No, it’s ok. We can reschedule.”
“Sorry,” she said again. She didn’t want to reschedule. She wanted to have a romantic Christmas date and kiss Arnold under mistletoe. But her family had butted in, Angelo had butted in, work had butted in, again, to drag her away. It felt like an omen—something or someone seemed to always be very determined to separate her from Arnold. She hoped it wasn’t an omen. She hoped she wasn’t going against the universe or god or the fates by trying so hard to keep ahold of him.
Arnold said, “It’s alright, Helga, really. Do what you need to do. Let me know if I can help in any way, ok?”
She almost smiled. “Sure, St. Arnold.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be the one throwing flowers at you when you take a bow.”
“Don’t you dare.”
He laughed, and she wished it didn’t make her feel awful. “Good luck. I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said.
“Thanks.”
He said goodbye, and she hung up, turning back to the waiting car. In the dark of the car, Angelo was watching her through the window, an unreadable expression on his face. She put on an angry face, which she only had to partly fake, and got into the car.
“Who was that?” Angelo asked.
“Phoebe,” Helga said. “I was supposed to meet up with her after practice to exchange presents. Guess now I’ll have to reschedule.” She tucked the present next to her feet, pretending it wasn’t as important as it was so Angelo wouldn’t be too suspicious. But she was already thinking of where to hide it at work so he wouldn’t snoop around inside it.
“Is that so,” was all Angelo said. Then he put the car in gear and drove Helga away from the school and toward the hellscape that was the mall three days before Christmas.
Standing by the Packard in a button up white shirt and his nicest pants, Arnold hung up with Helga and lowered his phone. Then he watched as Helga, a few hundred yards away, got into the car with Angelo and drove away.
Arnold had arrived in the school parking lot several minutes ago, worried he was either too early or too late somehow and that Helga, who might be tired and starving after rehearsal all day, would be annoyed. So he had parked the Packard in the nearest parking spot, ready and waiting, right as he had seen a figure run down the front steps to meet someone by the front gate. He had recognized Helga instantly, her long blonde hair giving her away; and after squinting in the dark, the streetlights too far away to really help, he recognized the tall, dark haired Angelo. Perplexed, Arnold had turned off his headlights and gotten out of the car and watched them talk. Helga was clearly becoming more animated and agitated by the second. Arnold debated what to do, not sure what to make of the situation and even less sure if he should butt in. Then Angelo and Helga suddenly walked away from each other, and Helga had called Arnold and canceled.
Arnold had felt a bit like a creep while they spoke, since he could see her but she didn’t know he was there in the dark parking lot. She had looked so much smaller than usual, leaning with her face against the school gate. The car waiting on the street was dark inside, but Arnold knew Angelo was there, waiting.
It wasn’t that Arnold thought Helga was up to something, or that she had lied about having to reschedule their date. She had really sounded—and looked—like she felt guilty about it, and besides, she’d jokingly told him twice this week she was expecting him to have set up a hot air balloon ride, or at least an elephant ride, to impress her on their date. It had been obvious to Gerald and Phoebe and Lila anyone paying even an ounce of attention to them that Helga had been looking forward to it. No, she wasn’t lying—it really must have been an emergency to make her cancel so last minute.
Even so, Arnold felt like something was off as soon as he had recognized it was Angelo outside the school, and still felt it when the big SUV drove away down the street.
Then Arnold got back in the Packard and drove downtown. He parked on the curb of a large skyscraper and got out, shaking his head when the valet offered to park his car.
“No little lady with you?” the valet asked, his gray mustache twitching in concern. “What happened?”
“Not tonight, Max. Thanks anyway,” Arnold answered, not offering anything else.
With a sympathetic expression, Max let him inside the building. Arnold had met Max through Ernie, who had demolished the last building Max had worked at, and Arnold had helped him find a new one. The nice old man always told Arnold to ask if he ever needed a favor, and this week Arnold had finally called it in.
Arnold took the elevator to the top floor, walked down the hall past the special exhibit gallery, which was currently featuring famous memorabilia from hall of fame wrestling champions. He headed out to the viewing deck, where a table with candles was set up under the glass ceiling and Arnold’s favorite jazz was playing.
“Welcome!” Gerald said loudly. He was wearing an apron, standing by a table off to the side by a middle-aged woman, one of his coworkers—Erika had agreed to cater for a good deal, and Gerald had offered to help set up. Gerald stopped when he saw Arnold was alone. “Where’s Helga? The bathroom?”
“She didn’t come,” Arnold said, glancing at the table with the candles. His earlier daydreams of talking to Helga and holding her hand beneath that candlelight were only sad now. He passed the table, instead coming to lean against the catering table.
“Didn’t come?” Gerald repeated in disbelief.
“Oh, no,” Erika said. She and Gerald shared a look. Then she said, “Let me make you boys something to eat,” and began assembling a plate of food.
Gerald came around to stand by Arnold. “What happened, man? Was it Eugene? Did he make her stay to practice more? I knew she had skipped rehearsal one too many times.”
“No, it was a work thing. Something happened and her dad made her come in,” Arnold answered.
“Mm-mm! Figures it was Big Bob Pataki’s fault.” Gerald leaned against the table, his arms crossed.
“But Angelo was there to pick her up,” Arnold added.
Gerald raised an eyebrow. “The hot but mean brother-in-law-who’s-not-a-brother-in-law?”
“Yeah.”
Gerald narrowed his eyes. “Ok, but what are you thinking? That’s your thinking face. You don’t trust Helga?”
“No, I trust Helga. She doesn’t act like she’s interested in him.”
“Yeah, or anyone else but you . Remember poor Moze totally ditched at the dance two months ago?” Gerald poked him in the shoulder, but Arnold just looked at him. Gerald gave up trying to lighten the mood and continued, “Ok, but you don’t trust Angelo. How come? He giving her a hard time? Or worse, is he making a move? Or is he just a jerk in general?”
“I don’t know.”
“I mean, I’m all for disliking him for no reason—he’s too tall.”
Arnold rolled his eyes. “He’s probably your height.”
“Yeah, for me it’s fine, but he pisses me off. But, seriously, what’s your reasoning? It can’t be because he’s taller than you.”
Arnold shook his head, mulling it over as he looked through the glass walls at the city lights twinkling below. Erika handed him a plate with fish tacos, and he took a bite of one absently.
He really wasn’t sure how to explain to Gerald what felt weird. It wasn’t that Angelo, when Phoebe had talked about him, had sounded like he might be a jerk. What was weird was the way Helga, who had to spend time with him for dozens of hours multiple times a week, didn’t talk about him.
“I think Helga’s not telling me something,” Arnold said.
Gerald was chewing on his own taco. “Have you asked her about him?”
“Every time I try to bring him up, she dodges. When we’re talking about her sister coming to visit or her plans for the holidays, she’s fine talking about family, but as soon as it might involve Angelo, she clams up.”
“Hmm,” Gerald said. “Yeah, that would make me suspicious, too. If Phoebe did that, I mean.”
To be honest, Arnold hadn’t hung out with Helga outside of school in weeks. At school, there was almost always someone else around, and even if he had a second to talk to her privately, she seemed to brush it off any time he brought up work or her family. He didn’t think it was her parents, or even her sister, that had her so avoidant. It was Angelo.
No one at school, not even Phoebe, knew much about Angelo. Arnold had even slyly asked Agatha, since she had gone to junior high with him and Helga, but the girl had only said she thought he was alright since Helga had thought he was alright. She didn't seem to have noticed that Helga didn't spend time with him anymore.
“Does Big Gino still get a new burner phone every two weeks but never gives out his number?” Arnold asked.
“Yeah,” Gerald said.
“But you have his number?”
“Of course I do.”
“Will you give it to me?”
Gerald gave him a sidelong look. “Why? Are you going to order a hit on Angelo?”
“No, of course not. I just need information.”
“Ah! Now, impossible information nobody else can get, that Big Gino can do.” Gerald stuck his taco to hold in his mouth and pulled out his phone. Five seconds later he was giving Arnold the number. “You gotta call this weekend though, he changes phones on Tuesdays, even though that’s the day after Christmas—wait, are you calling him right now?”
Arnold held the phone to his ear. Gerald and Erika (who had been listening to everything while pretending not to) shared another look, then watched Arnold expectantly.
It rang twice, then Gino answered, his low voice coming through the phone, “Well, well, if it isn’t the President himself calling me. This must be serious. And just what can I do for you on this fine evening?”
Arnold didn’t ask how Gino had known it was him. He just said, “I need to know what you can tell me about a guy named Angelo DeMarco.”
Chapter 15: More of Gravy than of the Grave
Chapter Text
Helga had not slept. Forty five minutes listening to Big Bob yell at the top of his lungs, explaining the severity of the situation; an hour and a half on and off the phone yelling at people herself until she got some answers on how to get what they needed; twenty seven minutes with Angelo on the computer, hunting down the right documents, and Angelo forging two signatures; and then six hours in the truck with Bob, Angelo, and poor co-worker Frankie, going to meet Ronnie half-way, pick up the inventory in a shady as hell parking lot, and drive back to unpack in the store before the mall opened.
“Do you admit that making us work here was a terrible plan now?” she had said to Angelo somewhere around six-thirty in the morning, while they wadded through packing plastic, placing items on shelves. Angelo had bags under his eyes, just like she did, although somehow his curls were still perfect while her hair was a mess. She had mascara smeared under her eyes, too, and a tear in her tights from crawling around the truck bed in the dark. So much for making herself look cute for the date she never went on.
“It’s not like this was my choice,” Angelo had responded.
She had scoffed, “You did this—”
“No,” he had cut her off, not even looking at her, “you did this.”
“Hey, hey, hey! I told you that I know I sent that shipment form correctly, it’s not my fault it somehow got lost—”
Then he had been leaning over her, his pale brown eyes as cold as an ice dagger, as if he would slice her into a thousand pieces simply by looking at her. “You wanted to try new things and play house. Fine. I’m playing along until you get bored. But don’t think that means I’ll let you make me feel like an idiot while you do it, sneaking around behind my back. You did this, Helga.”
She had gaped up at him, a chill having seized her spine, freezing her in place. She had seen that side of him before, but it had never been aimed at her. In fact, she had only ever seen that expression when he spoke to his parents.
“I’m not playing at anything,” she had replied, her own anger swallowed quickly.
He shocked her by laughing. A genuine, grinning laugh. “Leave your acting for the stage, honey. It’s cute, but you don’t have to act around me. I know you too well for that.”
She hadn’t known if she was shocked or annoyed or too tired to know what this conversation was actually about.
“You look tired,” he had said then, taking the box from her hands. “Why don’t you take a break?”
That conversation had haunted her the rest of the morning as she had tried to decipher what on earth he had meant.
Miraculously, the Emporium was pristine and sparkling by opening time, the shelves fully stocked. And if all the employees had blood shot eyes and were drinking too much coffee, none of the shoppers seemed to notice.
Helga fell asleep on her lunch break, slumped over her father’s office desk in the back room. She was startled awake by her father, whose red eyes and messy hair made her yelp. He’d snapped at her to quit yelling, he already had a headache—and her mother was there to pick her up and take her to school for the play.
“Break a leg,” Angelo had told her as she had left the Emporium. At least she could rest easy knowing he wouldn’t be at her play that night. He had told everyone else he had plans and wouldn’t be going with them, but Helga knew it was because he hated the theater. Actors were his least favorite people, and his own chameleon ability to be whoever people thought he was he considered ironic—the only self-aware player in the game, he had once called himself to Helga.
He had said she was playing at house. What had he meant by that?
She had no time or extra brain power to deal with it now. So she could only look at him suspiciously as she walked out the door and into the mall.
In the car, Miriam had brought Olga, who attempted to brush Helga’s hair and wipe day-old makeup off her face as they drove to the school. They only almost crashed once, when Helga suddenly made Miriam veer off the road to grab another coffee. Then they dropped her off on the curb, promising to be back on time with the whole family to see her performance. Helga waved them off, coffee in hand.
Dazed from lack of sleep and jittery from too much caffeine, Helga stumbled into the school and toward the stage.
Backstage was wild with energy, people running back and forth from dressing rooms, makeup and hair spray and hoop skirts liberally applied. Sheena was panicking about last minute alterations, and the stage manager was ordering around the stage hands to do another inventory of all the props. Eugene, dressed like a greek angel, was leading a vocal warm up. In the corner was Eugene, in his costume to play the rascally young count, looking like a nervous wreck and ranting about the theater critique who might be there. Helga stood on the edge of the daunting disaster for way longer than she should have, attempting to work up the energy to push her way through the crowd to her costume. Then someone started screaming, and the flurry of anxiety amplified as everyone rushed to the source.
It was Tami, one of Helga’s main co-stars, the actress who played Christine Daae. She was on the floor of the stage, crying, her mascara streaking down her face as she clutched her knee. The dancers she had been doing last minute rehearsal with were crowded around her, panicking.
Helga stared at the blubbering girl and the panicking crew and the hyperventilating Eugene, who clutched at his heart. Helga wondered briefly if the last twenty four hours had actually been a nightmare and she might wake up soon. Then she looked at Patty, who was staring at Tami with her mouth open.
“Guess you’re up, girly pop,” Helga said. Everyone turned to look at Helga, then at Patty. Helga sipped her coffee, then turned and looked at Harold, who stood with the other stagehands away from the group, also gaping at Patty. Very slowly, Helga felt her exhausted brain forgetting the chaos of the night, and instead it began trying to formulate an idea.
The school had been drenched in holiday spirit for the last few weeks, but when Arnold arrived for the Christmas play, it all seemed to be so much more oppressive. Before the play, the junior class was running a fundraiser, and the freshmen class had been hosting a dessert bar. The school was full of cheerful students and families, who began filing into the auditorium as an overture started playing.
Arnold met Gerald and Phoebe, who were sitting beside Teri, Lenny, and Agatha. Behind them in the seats was Stinky and Shante, whom Sid was third wheeling with. Arnold spotted many more students he recognized, either there with friends or with their families. He spotted the Patakis on the other side of the theater, finding their seats. Big Bob looked a little rough, and Arnold hoped they had figured out whatever had gone wrong at work yesterday. With the Patakis was a young man holding a baby carseat, whom Arnold gathered was Olga’s husband. He looked a lot like Angelo. Arnold kept an eye out, but Angelo himself didn’t show up to join them. Arnold was strangely glad about that.
It was the first time Arnold had seen the Patakis since they had left the neighborhood seven years ago. He was curious, and wished he was sitting closer to have a better look. Or should he walk up and reintroduce himself? What did they expect of their daughter’s boyfriend? He doubted Helga would want him to do that, though. Maybe after the play was over and she was there, too. He wondered if they would even recognize him. He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted the cream sweater he was wearing over a red button up shirt. He wondered if he should have dressed nicer, like worn a suit, or something. No, surely Helga would have made fun of him for that. Besides, Bob Pataki was wearing his blue work polo and a jacket, and Miriam was in a Christmas sweater, so a suit might seem overdressed to the Patakis. Except Olga and her husband were dressed in formal evening wear, so it was hard to tell.
The lights went down and Arnold settled back, right when he felt a buzz from his phone. He ignored it, but then Gerald, who had also received a message, leaned over and elbowed him.
“Check your phone, man,” he whispered. He pointed to his own phone. “It’s your girl.”
Arnold pulled his phone out and discreetly checked it, trying not to let the glow bother the other audience members. He was surprised to see Helga had texted:
EMERGENCY EMERGENCY
I have an ideal
Idol
IDEA
I need you to drop a chandelier on me
Arnold stared at the messages, wondering what on earth she was talking about. She had texted Gerald and Phoebe in the same chat, so both of them looked at him, equally confused. Arnold was about to text back to ask what she was talking about, when the music stopped and a spotlight shone on the red stage curtain.
Then Helga herself came from the left and walked to the front of the stage, standing in the spotlight. She was wearing a black pin striped suit and carried a black cane—her face was pale and dark shadows made her face look gaunt.
She spoke, “You are about to hear the tale of how I, Ebeneza Scrooge, died…and was reborn. Take heed, all you who listen—this tale is not how you knew it. You may find you leave a different soul than when you entered, much as I did. Oh, twisted and wicked soul that I was; now transformed! How, you may ask? By the halls of an opera house, at the hand of three phantoms…and a girl.”
She turned on her heel and strode toward the curtain, which quickly pulled out of her way. Organ music swelled as the walls of a fancy opera house appeared, and a large chandelier, decorated in colorful Christmas lights was lifted dramatically into the air as the ensemble waltzed in, literally.
Arnold had read Eugene’s original script and, admittedly, hadn’t been impressed. It was an odd mash up of the two famous plays, but with Helga playing the miserly new owner of the opera house, Arnold felt differently. She played her role incredibly straight faced, which somehow made her hilariously comical as she interacted within the over-the-top scenes and dance numbers. To Arnold’s surprise, playing opposite Helga wasn’t the senior drama star, Tami, but was actually Patty. Patty was a tall column of white in her flowing dress, her brown hair pulled into a curly bun. She danced and sang beautifully, and Arnold and his friends looked at each other as they clapped, impressed. Somehow, Helga and Patty as the focus of every scene made it even funnier, Patty sweetly playing off of Helga’s dry humor, and at other times dancing circles around Helga, who grumbled about patronizing ghosts and ridiculous dance numbers. They were endearing—and when Lila, the first Phantom, appeared to start teaching them their lessons, the audience seemed to be genuinely invested, laughing and cheering and growing somber all at the right times.
Arnold was clapping proudly as the curtain fell for intermission, so engrossed in the story that he jumped when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
It was Helga again: Backstage, last door, ten min
He still had no idea what she wanted, but he got up, gesturing for Gerald and Phoebe to follow him. They left their coats in their seats, telling their other friends they were going to the bathroom. But once in the hallways, Arnold veered down an empty side hall, leading the way to the back of the stage.
“So what are we doing exactly?” Gerald asked once they were alone.
“Unclear,” Phoebe said. “But I’m sure Helga has a good reason for asking for our help.”
Arnold could hear music playing again, the cue for intermission to end, as he reached the farthest door to the stage. He wasn’t sure if he should just walk in, so he knocked. The door pushed open, but instead of Helga, it was Harold. He had Keifer, another stagehand, in a headlock.
“Hey guys,” Harold whispered, waving Arnold and the others inside. He looked both ways down the hall before closing the door behind them. “Ok, I’ve got it set up. Helga said you guys could handle it.”
Arnold glanced around the dark backstage; they were in the very back, behind the backdrops and curtains. The music was louder and it sounded like the second act had started.
“What are we handling?” Arnold asked.
“Helga said you were going to take over the chandelier drop in Scene XIII,” Harold said, giving the three of them a confused look. “She said you’d all know what to do.”
Arnold, Gerald, and Phoebe looked at each other. Arnold knew in that scene the chandelier got dropped on Scrooge, knocking him out and sending him into a dream where he encountered the Phantom of Christmas Yet-to-Come for his final reckoning before the end of the play. But there was a crew of stage hands for that.
“Don’t you guys handle that?” Arnold asked, gesturing to Harold and Keifer, who was struggling to get out of Harold’s grasp.
“Lemme go, Harold! Eugene will kill us!” Keifer was saying.
“Shut it, Keif,” Harold whispered back, shaking the smaller boy. Then he said, “She said something about it being real important that you guys handle it, in the name of love, or something. She said you’d understand, Arnold.”
Everyone looked at Arnold, and he wracked his brain. She wants me to drop a chandelier on her in the name of love? Why? he thought to himself. Was this some sort of test he wasn’t sure how to pass?
Then he realized Harold was dressed wrong. Keifer was in black pants and a black long sleeved shirt—Harold was in a button up white shirt, a lace ascot, and a long black tailcoat. It looked like a costume.
“What are you wearing, Harold?” Arnold asked.
Harold shrugged. “Helga made me put it on. She said it would make sense later.”
Oh. Arnold asked, “What happened to Tami? Why is Patty playing Christine?”
“Tami hurt herself right before we started tonight. She’s at the hospital, I think, so Patty had to step in. She’s doing an awesome job, right?” Harold smiled, clearly proud. And maybe a little bit of something else.
Arnold nodded, realizing what Helga was hoping to accomplish. “Ok. We’ll handle the chandelier drop. Show us where to go.”
“We will?” Gerald and Phoebe whispered at him simultaneously. Arnold only nodded at them, and Harold led them around the back stage to the pulleys, whispering how they worked and what they were supposed to do. A couple ensemble members rushed by to their next mark, giving Arnold and his friends strange looks but not stopping to question. Most of the company was onstage, in a big musical number Arnold was a little sorry to be missing.
Harold said he was going to lock up Keifer with the other stagehands, whom he had apparently wrestled into a back closet somewhere, and Arnold chose not to worry about them right now. He whispered for Gerald and Phoebe to follow his lead, and then he left them to man the pulleys while he went to the other side of the stage, to the first pulley Harold had shown them.
On stage, the ensemble had gathered around for a dramatic scene where Eugene, playing the young, handsome count, made cringe worthy advances on Patty. From his spot behind the curtain, Arnold could see Helga come to Patty’s rescue, only to be challenged to a duel by Eugene. With a scowl, Helga tossed her cane to the side, where someone caught it and tossed her back a sword. She drew it, and the audience gasped as Eugene and Helga began a dramatically choreographed fight scene. Patty worriedly called after Helga as a few other girls fanned her.
Arnold took a deep breath, putting his hands on the ropes that controlled the chandelier hanging over the stage. He watched Helga move around the stage, and started to feel a sweat on his forehead. They had to do this right or Helga could get hurt for real.
The music was swelling, and he knew the cue would be coming soon, when Eugene would cut the fake rope on stage to release the chandelier on top of Helga. He locked eyes with Gerald and Phoebe across the stage from him, and they nodded, ready with their own ropes.
The fight was reaching a climax, Eugene with fake blood on his arm and Helga clutching her bleeding side. It looked believable, but Arnold wasn’t surprised; Eugene always went all out on special effects, and Eugene and Helga were both great actors, looking angry and winded as they chased each other around the stage. Finally, Eugene knocked Helga back and swiped his sword at the fake rope for the chandelier, knocking it free.
Arnold hit the lock on the pulley, knocking it loose—the rope whipped through his hands so fast it made a whirring sound. The chandelier above dropped with a jerk and swung out toward the audience. The audience gasped and the ensemble scattered, some of them dramatically screaming and running for cover. The rope burned against Arnold’s hand as he slowed the chandelier’s descent, swinging it back toward the stage—right toward Helga.
Harold had said the chandelier was supposed to crash center stage, into the opera wall, and Helga was supposed to pretend to get hit and “die.” All Arnold, Gerald, and Phoebe had to do was make it crash a little further upstage than it was supposed to, making it look believable that Helga had actually gotten hit.
Even still, the rigging had been set up for a specific fall, and it was extremely heavy. It was careening for the wall, and Arnold locked eyes with Helga through the crowd. He threw his weight into it, the chandelier bobbing as he sent it falling closer to his girlfriend, who watched it come without trying to dodge out of the way at all.
It hit the stage with a clang—Helga seemingly right beneath it—the audience gasped and Patty pretended to scream and fainted, being caught by Eugene. The music swelled, and the stage curtain dropped. There was applause.
Arnold sank back into the curtain as ensemble members hurried past him offstage. Then Harold appeared beside Arnold and helped him secure the rope—and right then Arnold heard Helga saying loudly, “Ouch, damnit! Criminy, what the hell were you bozos doing? Agh, my leg!”
For a moment of panic, Arnold thought she was really hurt. Then he realized she was clutching the wrong leg.
“No, no, no!” Eugene said, fluttering around Helga while one of the costume assistants dabbed away the fake blood on him. A smoke machine (probably the offending smoke machine that had tried to kill Arnold and Helga three months ago) started spewing smoke onto the stage, and beyond the curtain the orchestra had started playing slow, ominous music. On the other side of the stage, Arnold could see Gerald and Phoebe ducking out of the way of the tall and hooded Phantom of Christmas Yet-to-Come, who had cocked their skeleton-half-masked-face at Helga. He was pretty sure that was Eugene’s new boyfriend, Jason, underneath the mask.
“Helga, can you stand?” Eugene asked, trying to pull Helga to her feet.
Helga made a show of falling back on her butt. “No, I can’t stand, you idiot! I’ve been assaulted by a four hundred pound chandelier dressed like a Christmas tree!”
“Ok, ok, ok, um—your cane! Get Helga’s cane!” Eugene snapped at the costume assistant.
“A cane isn’t going to work—” Helga snapped.
“A chair! Get her a chair! With wheels! Jason can push you—”
“Ow, ow, my head!” Helga suddenly said, clutching her head. “I think I have a concussion! Where am I? Who are you?”
Arnold covered a laugh.
Beside him, Harold stared. “Arnold, how can you laugh? We just hit Helga! I thought you said you could handle this!”
“Uh…guess I was wrong?” Arnold responded.
“She’s your girlfriend. Even if it’s Helga and she’s tough, still not cool, dude,” Harold scolded him.
Arnold looked appropriately guilty. “Sorry.”
Then Helga was saying, “Harold will have to do the rest of the play!”
“What?” Eugene squeaked. “Harold?”
“Me?” Harold repeated, equally dumbfounded.
“Curtains up!” someone whispered harshly.
“One second!” Eugene snapped back. “Harold can’t do it, he doesn’t know—”
“Yes, he can,” Patty said, looking like a ghost in the smoke and the light of the Christmas lights. “He knows all Helga’s lines. He even knows the dance moves for the final number. He helped her and me practice lots of times.”
Harold protested, “But I’m not an understudy, I’m just a stagehand!”
Patty looked at him. “You can do it, Harold.”
“Are…are you sure?” Harold said back.
“Yes.”
Helga, moaning, was being pulled away by the costume assistant now. The curtain was starting to rise, the smoke spilling out onto the rest of the stage, and Eugene dove off stage.
Arnold grabbed Harold and tossed him onto the stage. He stumbled into the ominous, smokey scene, gaping out at the audience and the lights. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Where am I? Have I died? T’was a blow, surely—but this strange place I know not.”
Helga was gone, and Gerald and Phoebe had disappeared. Arnold figured he should, too, before there was trouble. He snuck behind Eugene, who was staring as Harold reacted perfectly to the appearance of the opera singing Phantom of Christmas Yet-to-Come. Patty was smiling widely.
In the hallway again, Arnold spotted Gerald and Phoebe.
“There you are!” Gerald said as they hurried back to the auditorium doors.
“Was Helga alright?” Phoebe asked.
“I think she’s fine,” Arnold replied.
“What the hell was all that about?” Gerald asked.
“You’ll see,” Arnold said.
They snuck back into the auditorium and back to their seats. On stage, Harold was a little stiff and awkward at first, but Arnold thought the audience might just see that as him acting afraid of the Phantom he interacted with. Either that, or the audience was so distracted by the last minute actor swap that they wouldn’t notice his stiffness.
Arnold felt his phone buzz and tried to discreetly check the message. As expected, it was from Helga. Unexpectedly, it caused his heart to skip a beat when he read: I’m crazy about you.
He was glad it was dark—no one would see his red face and stupid smile. He secretly slipped his phone back into his pocket, feeling warmer than he had a few minutes ago.
Harold’s Ebeneza wasn’t nearly as funny or intense as Helga’s Ebeneza had been, but he seemed to know all the lines, and when he emerged from the nightmare to reunite with Patty, Arnold thought they looked really good together. Harold only missed a few dance steps in the last dance number, but probably not everyone noticed. Then at the end, when Patty and Harold had the last scene together, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes, it seemed Patty went off script—she grabbed Harold and kissed him. Harold looked surprised, and then he kissed her back.
Around Arnold, his friends erupted in applause and cat calls. Gerald whistled; Stinky was slapping his knee and laughing, and Lenny and Teri were both saying, “Yoooooo, Harold! Get it!” Sid was losing his mind, shouting, “How did he get another girl again?”
Phoebe was clapping, but she caught Arnold’s eye. “So is this what you and Helga were up to?”
Arnold laughed. “Mostly Helga. I just helped.”
Phoebe giggled.
The group continued their laughing and gossiping as the curtain fell and the audience stood and began to exit.
“Hoo boy, that was a riot! I sure was shocked silly when Harold appeared,” Stinky said as they stood around in the hall. “Shame Helga couldn’t finish the play, though. She was a down right knee-slapper.”
“She was amazing!” Teri agreed. “I didn’t know she was such a good actress. Ladybird’s been holding out on us.”
“I knew,” Agatha said quietly.
“Wait, so do Helga and Patty normally kiss at the end?” Sid asked. “Why does that seem terrifying to me? Like, wouldn’t they be the scariest power couple ever? No offense, Arnold.”
“I believe they were meant to kiss, yes,” Phoebe said. “Although Helga never said it was so…passionate.”
Gerald snickered. “Nah, man, I think there’s something going on with Patty that Harold hasn’t been telling us about.”
“Gee whiz, you think?” Stinky asked.
“That kiss didn’t look like acting to me, if you know what I’m saying.” Gerald wiggled his eyebrows. There was more laughter.
Arnold only half listened to his friends and looked around at the other people milling about, discussing the play. It seemed everyone had enjoyed it. A couple of the kids in the play were already changed out of costumes and hugging their families. Arnold wondered where the Patakis were. He wondered where Helga was. The girl who was crazy about him. He tried not to smile too wide and too stupid.
Gerald tapped him on the shoulder. “Uh, Arnold. I think you have a friend.”
Arnold followed Gerald’s gaze. Standing beside Arnold’s foot was a toddler with dark hair and big brown eyes, dressed in a little button up shirt and a red bowtie. He blinked up at Arnold.
“Uht-oh, did someone lose a kid?” Teri asked, looking around the crowd.
“He looks a bit familiar,” Phoebe said, “I wonder who he’s related to?”
“Where’s your mommy and daddy, little guy?” Sid asked him.
The little boy ignored the others, reaching out a tiny hand to tug on Arnold’s pant leg. Arnold crouched down next to him.
“Hi, there,” Arnold said gently. “Do you need help finding your family? What’s your name?”
The little boy grinned a mostly-toothless smile at him, a dimple in his chubby left cheek.
“Ah!” Phoebe suddenly said. “I know him!”
Helga woke up with a gasp, then regretted it, her neck aching. Patty was standing over her, out of her costume and in a yellow sweatshirt, her curled hair let loose from her bun.
“Sorry, Helga,” Patty said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. The play’s over.”
“Is it?” Helga said, rubbing her eyes and wiping drool from her chin. Pretty much as soon as she’d left the stage, she had fallen asleep at one of the vanities in the dressing room. “How did it go?”
“It went well.” Patty blushed a little and looked back. Standing in the doorway was Harold.
He also looked embarrassed. “Yeah, it was…good.”
Helga cracked her neck and stood up to stretch. She felt like she’d just woken from the dead for real. She looked like she had risen from the dead, too. Red eyes and her hair a mess, still wearing half her costume. It was either that or change back into the red velvet dress she’d been wearing since yesterday. Then she focused better on Patty and Harold. Both of them were blushing and looking at the carpet.
Helga smirked at them. “Well. It looks like it went real good.”
Patty tucked her hair behind her ear and Harold cleared his throat. He said, “I think I did you proud, Pataki. Mostly. I didn’t forget any lines, anyway.”
“Good thing I made you practice with me so much, eh?” Helga said.
“Yeah. Good thing.” Harold glanced at Patty, who was still blushing and not looking at him.
Helga chuckled and led the way out the door and toward the hall. In the hallway, there were two gray haired little people waiting a few yards away. Patty hurried over to them and they hugged her excitedly.
“Um, her parents invited us to dessert to celebrate,” Harold said, gesturing to Patty and her parents.
“Who, me too?” Helga asked.
“Yeah, you know. Since you’re Patty’s friend. It’s ok if you can’t—Lila had to go with her family, too.”
Helga smiled, feeling honored. But she said, “Nah, you go on. I’m tired.”
“Yeah. You probably need to get your concussion checked. Glad your leg’s ok now.”
“Oh, uh…” Helga looked down at her legs, not even remembering which one she was supposed to be pretending was injured. “It’s possible my injuries were greatly exaggerated.”
She flinched when Harold suddenly leaned toward her. He whispered, “Hey, uh. Whoever that girl is that likes me, can you tell her sorry for me? I don’t think I’m going to keep looking for her. I think I’m, uh…you know.” He jerked his head back toward Patty.
Helga laughed, startling him. “You big doofus. You did find her.”
Harold gave a big dumb stare. Then she watched the enlightenment slowly dawn on his face. “Wait, you mean Patty? Really?”
She patted his shoulder. “Don’t mess this up. Got it?” Her last pat was more of a smack.
Harold quickly shook his head. “No, I won’t! I won’t mess up!”
Helga congratulated Patty and accepted compliments from Patty’s parents, then left to let Harold and Patty continue blushing at each other all the way to dessert.
There was a whole mess of people in the lobby in front of the auditorium, and Helga looked at the crowd, feeling like she would break down if she had to talk to any strangers. Maybe no one would recognize her. Although she was still mostly in costume, so not a lot of hope of that.
She pulled out her phone, wondering where Arnold and Phoebe and the others were. Then she spotted the last text she had sent to Arnold and felt her stomach cringe so hard it made her nauseous.
She vaguely remembered thinking, while the chandelier had been hurtling toward her at full speed, how amazing it was that Arnold had understood what she had hoped to do and pulled it off for her. He was so reliable. He was so understanding. He hadn’t even been mad about her canceling their date last night, and now here he was, interpreting her cryptic messages and helping her get Patty and Harold together. He was so great. She loved him so much.
Smacking her phone against her forehead, cheeks burning, she thought, Criminy, can I not keep it together for one second? I’m delirious from lack of sleep, that’s all. Not that he knows that. He didn’t even respond yet. Ugh, stupid lovesick fool that I am.
“There she is!”
Helga looked up as she recognized Olga’s voice. Her sister came barreling through the crowd toward her, throwing her arms around her. “Oh, baby sister, you were so splendid! Such a fascinating performance, absolutely wonderful!”
Helga patted her back a couple times, half suffocating from Olga’s tight hug. The rest of her family came out of the crowd after Olga.
“Helga, honey, you did a wonderful job!” Miriam said, putting an arm around Helga on the other side and kissing her cheek. “Didn’t she do a wonderful job, B?”
“You were funny, kid,” Big Bob said. “Nice sword fighting! And your dancing at the end wasn’t bad, either.”
Miriam laughed, “Oh, aha ha! That wasn’t her dancing!”
“It wasn’t?”
“That was a boy, daddy,” Olga said. “He did the last three scenes. Did something happen, Helga?”
“Nah, I was just tired and didn’t feel like dancing,” Helga said.
“What, that was a boy, really?” Bob said. “I thought it was just special effects. Well, anyway, you did alright, kid.”
“Thanks, dad,” Helga said.
“Really truly splendid, Helga,” Danny said with a smile. “Such a shame Angelo missed it, I’ll be sure to tell him everything.”
“Yeah, cool. Thanks, Dan,” Helga said, personally extremely glad that Angelo was not there. It would have felt weird to have Angelo in her school, in the same vicinity as her friends and Arnold. Changing the subject, Helga asked, “Did Danny Jr. sit through it ok, or was he bored?”
“Oh, he was an angel!” Olga said.
“After the first couple scenes, he slept through the entire thing,” Danny said. “Didn’t you, pumpkin?”
He lifted the blanket over the baby carseat he was carrying. The carseat was empty. The five Patakis stared at it.
Then Olga slapped her hands to her face and screamed, “My baby!”
“He must have snuck out!” Danny said in a panic.
“Where the hell could a toddler run off to?” Bob shouted, looking around the crowd. He was already crazy looking from being up all night, and now he looked completely unhinged.
“Danny Jr., sweetie, come back to grandma!” Miriam began wailing.
Realizing her family was about to fall into chaos, Helga grabbed Bob and Olga, keeping them from running in opposite directions. She shook them, making them look at her. “Hold your horses, people! Don’t panic, he’s gotta be close by. Olga, you and dad check the auditorium and see if he’s running around the seats. Mom and Danny, you stay out here and see if he’s wandering around or found something to play with. I’ll check the side halls and make sure he didn’t go out a different door. Got it? Go!”
Olga and Bob rushed back to the auditorium, and Danny and Miriam got down on their hands and knees, crawling around the other people still hanging out in the hall. Helga sighed and headed to the hall. A quick glance down a few and she didn’t see anything. She hurried around to the next one, keeping an eye out near the ground for any adorable little runaways.
She was cutting through the crowd to the other side of the lobby when she spotted a familiar shock of pale blond hair. Arnold, looking adorable and festive in his cream sweater and red shirt. And in his arms was a toddler with black curls, two fingers in his mouth.
Helga blinked, watching Arnold look around the crowd. He said something to Danny Jr. with a smile, and the little boy nodded with a shy little smile of his own. This was another moment when Helga wasn’t sure if her tired brain was misfiring, but if it was, it wasn’t a nightmare. It was a very cute dream.
Arnold turned away from her, heading further into the crowd, but over his shoulder, Danny Jr. spotted her.
“‘Ega!” Danny Jr. said. Arnold turned around and his eyes fell on her. He smiled, and maybe the holiday decorations were on the fritz because Helga thought the room got a little brighter. He came toward her.
“Hey! I was just looking for your family,” Arnold said when he reached her. “I think they might be missing a little someone.”
“So you found the convict, did you?” Helga poked Danny Jr. in the stomach. “The Wardens are freaking out that you’re gone, mister. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Danny Jr. giggled.
“I see you found a friend on your escapades, though,” Helga said.
Danny Jr. took a finger out of his mouth and pointed at Arnold. “Arnie.”
Arnold chuckled, and Helga thought her insides might be melting a little bit. Danny Jr. reached for her, and Arnold handed him over.
“You were amazing tonight, Helga,” Arnold said. “Great job.”
“Ah, thanks. Honestly, glad it’s over,” Helga said, placing Danny Jr. on her hip. “And guess what.”
“What?” Arnold asked.
Helga grinned. “Harold’s going out for dessert with Patty and her family. They looked so cute together I thought I was gonna barf.”
“Really?” Arnold laughed lightly. “Well, congratulations again, then.”
“Me? For what?”
“Your first success as a matchmaker.”
“Tch.” She stopped Danny Jr. from pulling on the little lacey edge of her costume’s collar. “Well, I told you I was going to be good at it.”
“I believed you. Although I’d prefer not to drop any more giant iron props on you.”
“Why? You were so good at it. You must drop things on girls all the time.”
“I’m not doing it again. I was worried you would actually get hit.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a huge worrywart.”
Arnold rolled his eyes, but he was smiling slightly. Someone behind him pushed past, excusing themself, and Arnold stepped closer to her, a hand lightly on her elbow. There was still a small, lopsided smile on his face when he looked at her. Danny Jr. pointed at him and said, “Arnie!”
Arnold took Danny Jr.’s little hand and pointed the finger back at himself. “Danny Jr.”
The little boy grinned, and Arnold’s green eyes flicked back to Helga.
“Arnold,” Helga couldn’t help saying, “I’m really sorry about bailing on our date yesterday.”
Arnold shook his head. “It’s no big deal. Did you figure out what you needed to at work?”
“More or less. I’ll probably sleep through Christmas now, though.”
He cocked his head and seemed to consider her more fully. “Did you not sleep last night?”
She shrugged, suddenly sure her stage makeup wasn’t covering the bags under her eyes. “It’s a long and boring story.”
“Will you tell it to me? Not right now, obviously, but another time?”
She snorted. “I guess, if you want. Let me know when you’re in the mood to be bored.”
He considered her again, so long she wondered if there was something on her face. Then he said, “Alright. I will.”
Then, from a few feet away, Gerald called out, getting their attention, “Hey, Arnold! Did you find the Patakis?”
“I found Helga,” Arnold called back.
“Oh, you found the main Pataki. Hey guys, he found Helga!” Gerald called behind him.
Arnold raised a hand to show the others where they were in the crowd, but Helga got distracted by Danny Jr. pointing over her shoulder, and saying, “Jelo!”
Helga stiffened. She said, “Angelo isn’t here, D.J. It’s probably your dad.” She turned around.
A few yards behind her through the crowd, in a long wool jacket and black turtleneck, was Angelo. His hands were in his pockets, and his head was cocked slightly as he looked at her.
“Hey, honey. You were great tonight,” Angelo said, his expression completely blank.
Forget the sweet dream. Like a switch had flipped, Helga had fallen into a nightmare.
“Jelo!” Danny Jr. called again. Angelo started through the crowd toward them, but Helga jolted, aware that Arnold was right beside her. Instead of letting him approach, Helga hurried forward, putting Danny Jr. in Angelo’s arms to distract him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded.
“It’s a public school. Am I not allowed to be here?” Angelo asked, tickling Danny Jr.
“You hate the theater.”
“True. Yet you insist on being in it.”
“You said you weren’t coming.”
“I said I wasn’t coming with everyone else.”
She scoffed. “So you came alone? What weird useless mind-play is that?”
“Who says I’m alone?” Angelo looked over her shoulder. “I see you’re not alone, either.”
Helga shot a look behind her. Arnold had followed her part way, and stood a few feet back, looking between her and Angelo. Helga stepped to the side, blocking Arnold from Angelo’s view, trying to make it look nonchalant with a wave of her hand.
But coming out of her mouth was anything but nonchalant, and even while she was saying it she knew Arnold was close enough to hear, “Who, him? I’m not with him, he’s just here. Actually, you should be grateful, because he found Danny Jr. when your dumb brother lost him, so really, you should thank him. Actually, I already thanked him, we can go, my parents are probably losing their heads and about to call the authorities, so come on, let’s go—”
Her voice died in her open mouth when Rhonda, dressed in a long green dress with a slit up her thigh, stepped over and looped her hand through Angelo’s arm. “Who is this little kid you found, Angelo?” Rhonda asked. Then she spotted Helga. “Oh, there’s Helga! Helga, you were fabulous out there, really top tier stuff. Wasn’t Helga fabulous, Nadine?”
Nadine and Peapod kid were behind Rhonda, also dressed fancy, and holding hands.
“You were great, Helga!” Nadine said.
“Truly, truly impressive,” Peapod added. “I took a few photos—we’ll be running a spotlight on the play on our first broadcast back from winter break. Would you be available for an interview then? And Harold too, of course. The student body will love the harrowing tale of your excellent performance and why Harold had to come to the rescue. What do you say, Helga?”
Helga could only stare from them, back to Angelo. Angelo raised an eyebrow at her.
“Yes, Harold was alright, too,” Rhonda said, her nose in the air. “I suppose. Although, not as good as you, Helga. Right, Arnold?” Rhonda didn’t wait for Arnold to respond, instead leaning into Angelo and saying, “That’s Arnold, the one I was telling you about who’s dating Helga.”
“Yes, I gathered that,” Angelo said.
“Aren’t they cute?”
Angelo smiled, the warmth not reaching his cold eyes, which were still firmly fixed on Helga. Helga felt a painful stab in her side, like her insides were tearing away from each other.
“Are you surprised, Helga?” Rhonda said, mistaking Helga’s shocked silence. “We kept it a very great secret, but I suppose the cat’s out of the bag now. Now you know we’ve been dating.”
“Who? You—you and Angelo?” Helga turned her incredulous expression to Angelo. “You can’t be dating Angelo. He doesn’t date!”
Angelo smirked at her. Rhonda was the one who replied, “Well, he finally found someone who was his equal. Right, Angelo?”
“Oh, sweetie, check your mirror,” Angelo said in response, pointing to her nose.
Helga saw nothing there, but Rhonda quickly covered her nose. She pulled a compact mirror out of her pocket, which held a little square of cotton, which she blotted on her nose. She looked at Angelo, who nodded. Rhonda slid her mirror back in her pocket as if that entire interaction had been completely normal and not out of a bizarro fever dream Helga was having.
Behind Helga, she heard Gerald and the others arrive. Gerald said, “Is that Rhonda?”
“Golly gee, Rhonda!” Stinky said. “Who do you have yer acrylic claws in now?”
“This is Angelo,” Rhonda said as the group of students came up behind Helga. “Not that any of you would know him. He’s from the upper east side of town. Well, except Helga, of course—he’s her brother-in-law.”
“Boy! He really looks like his kid there, doesn’t he?” Sid said.
“Pataki, he’s your brother-in-law? Looks a little young to be married to your sister with a baby,” Teri said to Helga, jerking a thumb at Angelo.
“No, you idiots, he’s not married!” Rhonda snapped. “How could I be dating him, then?”
“What do’ya mean? How’s he related to Helga then if he ain’t married to her sister?” Stinky asked.
“Our siblings are married,” Angelo said. “Helga and I aren’t related.”
Helga frowned at him. He’d never made that distinction before; he’d always accepted when the Patakis or anyone else called them family. Angelo didn’t react to her glare, still wearing the same fake smile, which no one else seemed to notice.
“Oh, got it!” Sid said. Then, “No, I don’t get it. But what a small world that Helga’s brother is the one rumored to be dating Rhonda .”
“Not my brother,” Helga said. Then Angelo’s smirk made her feel like she’d said something wrong.
Sid wiggled his eyebrows. “Rhonda, did you see, did you see? Harold kissed Patty on stage tonight!”
“Yes I saw, you moron,” Rhonda said, flipping her shiny black hair over her shoulder. “I was in the audience, how could I not see?”
“What do you think of that, huh?” Stinky asked her.
“Like I care. Glad Harold can move on from me. I’ve obviously moved on already.” She batted her eyes up at Angelo. “Right?”
“Sure thing, sweetie,” Angelo replied.
Helga’s insides squirmed. She wasn’t sure what was really happening, but this was definitely a nightmare. And, oh, god, was Arnold still behind her? Or had he vanished? She hoped he had vanished. Maybe everyone would vanish, and Helga could go back to a normal nightmare, like being eaten alive by a giant spider instead.
“So, hold on,” Gerald said. He was frowning, pointing from Angelo to Rhonda. Phoebe beside him was also frowning, looking unsure. “Rhonda, you’re telling me that you’ve been dating this guy? Since when?”
“Well, we met at Lorenzo’s Halloween party—” Rhonda started, only to be cut off by Sid.
“What, you weren’t there. I never saw you,” Sid said.
“Yes, I was there, but when you showed up with Harold, I thought it was best I leave. But before that, I met Angelo. Remember, sweetie?” she asked Angelo. “I was dressed as Audrey Hepburn and you were in that silly purple bear costume.”
“I remember,” Angelo said, then winked at Helga.
Helga felt her insides twist again, hurtling her back to the Halloween party two months ago. The party right after her and Arnold had kissed for the first time on his roof. The party they had held hands at the whole time. The party where a big purple Care Bear had passed by and stroked her hair.
It had been Angelo. He had seen her friends and Arnold with her. He had known the whole time. And he had been dating Rhonda since then, the biggest gossip Helga had ever known.
“My baby!” Olga was suddenly shrieking, making everyone jump as the Patakis and DeMarcos barreled down on them, grabbing Danny Jr. from Angelo and crying all over them. Danny Jr. just blinked around at them all, unconcerned.
“Tsk tsk,” Angelo said, shaking his head at their family. He said so only Helga could hear, “Always so annoying.”
The comment made Helga jerk back to reality. She said to everyone, “Well, it’s been real! Glad you could come. Guess I’ll see you guys in a week when school is back in! Angelo and I have to go now!”
She grabbed Angelo’s sleeve to drag him away, but Rhonda held onto him. “Angelo is supposed to take me home, Helga.”
Helga shot back, “Angelo doesn’t need to take you home, he’s a vampiric parasite. Dump him.”
“Ouch, honey,” Angelo said, putting a hand to his chest. “I love you, too.”
Rhonda laughed. “Oh, you guys are too funny! We’ll have to all hang out some time, now that it’s not a secret we’re dating.”
“Yeah, we need Angelo to tell us any embarrassing stories he knows about Helga,” Sid said, elbowing Teri.
“Ha! I bet he’s got loads,” Teri snickered.
“Oh, believe me. I’ve got lots of stories about the real Helga,” Angelo said, and Helga hated the way he smirked.
“You’re not hanging out with any of my—” she started, but Angelo pulled her fist off of him and patted her cheek.
He said, “I have to take my girlfriend home. I’ll see you at home. Honey.”
She knocked his hand away. “Angelo, you can’t just—”
Angelo smiled around at everyone. “Nice to meet you all. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
“Anytime, man,” Teri said. He flinched when Helga whipped around to glare at him. “What? Am I not being polite enough to your family? What do you want?”
Helga scowled at him, but then her mother popped up beside her, making her jump so hard she knocked back into a stranger.
“Oh, Angelo, you came after all! How nice!” Miriam said. “And are these all your little friends, too, Helga? Isn’t that nice.”
“Mom!” Helga began pushing her mother away. “What are you doing?”
“Big B is veeeery tired, Helga. We should get going before we have to carry him out. Oh, wait, but who’s your pretty friend there, Angelo?”
“I’ll tell you about it at home, Miriam,” Angelo said, taking Rhonda’s hand. Rhonda looked giddy.
“Oh, how exciting!” Miriam gushed, “See, Helga, it’s not so bad! Maybe Angelo can help you get a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend—I’m not judgy, you know!”
“Uh, ma’am, she does have a b—” Sid was cut off when Teri put him in a headlock.
“Maybe it’s a secret, you dumbass,” Teri whispered to him harshly.
“Why would it be a secret when everyone but her family knows—?” Sid’s whisper was choked off. Teri gave Helga a thumbs up. Helga wanted to spontaneously combust.
Miriam looped her arm through Helga’s and began pulling her toward the family, who were buckling Danny Jr. securely into the carseat. Big Bob was leaning against the door, looking like he might have already fallen asleep.
She turned back, but the only ones who gave her a sympathetic look were Gerald and Phoebe. Agatha was next to them, and she waved goodbye at Helga. Everyone else was focused on Rhonda, who was saying goodbye, wishing them a happy holidays. Stinky and his girlfriend were also giving their own farewells, keeping everyone’s attention.
So only Helga noticed when Angelo looked to the back of the group, to the one person Helga had been avoiding looking at. Angelo said, “Nice to finally meet you, Amanda. Sorry, I meant Arnold.”
Then Angelo turned and walked away with Rhonda.
Helga slowly, reluctantly, looked back at Arnold. He was watching her be dragged away with a completely unreadable expression.
Chapter 16: Fire and Ice
Chapter Text
One would think that on Christmas Eve, people would be at home with their families and the mall would be slow and empty. Of course, Helga knew that wasn’t true, and the mall was full of people on last minute errands before everything closed early at four-thirty. There was even a stage set up on the ground floor, with multiple caroling groups having some sort of competition, and a couple hundred spectators watching. It looked like a bad holiday rom-com to Helga, but she could barely see the performances through the Emporium window and over the balcony.
If there was something rom-com worthy happening down there, Helga hoped they would do a better job at being a girlfriend than she had done the last few days.
Angelo was ignoring her. Well, he was working, but whenever there was a lull in customers, he suddenly found himself busy cleaning shelves and she couldn’t talk to him. Stupid mind game trick probably—when she finally wanted to talk to him, he was being aloof and pretending he didn’t notice. He couldn’t run forever, though. They had their lunch breaks at the same time today, and she’d wrestle him to the ground if he tried to avoid her.
When lunch came around, Helga looked around and panicked when she didn’t see him. She hurried to the back, slamming the break room door open. Her father was sitting at the cramped plastic table, and her entrance made him jump, spilling coffee down his shirt.
“Jesus, Helga!” her father snapped. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Sorry,” she said halfheartedly, distracted by Angelo, who was leaning against the counter, a candy cane sticking out of his mouth.
Big Bob grumbled, grabbing the roll of paper towels and trying to stop the coffee from setting into his blue polo. “Young lady, I need a word with you.”
“What, now?” She didn’t have time for whatever Bob wanted to yell at her about. “Can’t it be later? It’s my lunch break and I’m hungry.”
Her father glowered at her, but then said, “Fine, fine, eat. Come to my office when you’re done.” He waved his half-full coffee mug at Angelo. “Then you, after her.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Angelo said.
Bob walked out of the room, and Helga shut the door. Then she dragged a plastic chair over and wedged it beneath the doorknob.
Angelo raised his eyebrows. “Oh. It’s that kind of meeting, is it? Should I be nervous?”
“Break up with Rhonda,” she said.
“Rhonda? Is that what this is about?” He smirked. “Why should I? You jealous?”
“As if. You know why.”
“Do I?” Angelo twisted the candy cane in his mouth, pretending to think. “I didn’t think you were that close with Rhonda. She kept saying you two were such good friends, so obviously she hardly knows you. She called you one of the most popular girls from East Side High. Can you believe that?”
Well, Helga could believe Rhonda would say something goofy like if she thought it would get her on Angelo’s good side. And it was true that Helga wasn’t very close with Rhonda, but she had known her practically her whole life and Rhonda was friends with Arnold and Phoebe and everyone else. Besides, she had been mostly nice to Helga since she had come back.
But more than that, this was about Angelo worming his way into Helga’s life just because he knew she was explicitly trying to keep him out of it.
“Besides, why should you get to have all the fun?” Angelo continued. “I wanted to play house, too.”
Helga scoffed. “Don’t give me this crap again. I’m not playing at anything.”
“Right, right, right. Excuse me. You’re trying new things and meeting new people and all that. I’m in support.”
“What the hell does that even mean! If you were actually in support you’d butt out after I told you off the first time!”
Angelo rolled his eyes. “You’re acting like I’m going to steal all of Rhonda’s family money and leave her family dead in the basement. I’m just dating her, nothing weird about that.” His smirk let Helga know it was very weird and he knew she knew it.
She demanded, “For what? Did she piss you off and you wanted to break her heart, or do you actually want her money or something? Or is it just because I know her and you knew I wouldn’t like it? Why Rhonda?”
“Because she was single and desperate and I’m gracious and thought I might cheer her up.”
“You, gracious? HA! Yeah, and I’ve got a billion dollars and was just crowned the queen of the moon.”
“Do you want to be? Sounds like a fun project.”
“Damnit, be serious for five seconds—”
“I’m always serious, you’re the one playing games and making jokes—”
“You met Rhonda at the Halloween party? How the hell were you there, anyway? Why were you there? I didn’t even know I was going until like twenty minutes before it started!”
“Not everything is about you. Not that you’ve noticed.”
Despite her best efforts to keep a cool head and stay in control of the conversation, Helga’s blood was already boiling underneath the surface. She could feel all her muscles and bones clenching together, she wanted to punch something.
“What are you holding back for?” Angelo asked. “You know you don’t have to hide who you are in front of me.”
Helga refused to kick a hole in the drywall with him watching, no matter how much she wanted to. Instead she stomped toward him, pushing a chair out of her way a little too hard.
Now right in his face, she growled, “I don’t want you messing around with people I know!”
Angelo put his hands up, his mock surrender making her even more mad. “I won’t step on your toes. I’m eager to see how you mess them up yourself.”
She was so angry, nothing came out of her mouth for a moment. “You cheesy slime ball, I’m not going to mess up anybody!”
“No? So it wasn’t on purpose?”
“What wasn’t on purpose!”
“You know, half-assing the play, messing up at work to get back at your dad, giving your boyfriend the runaround and keeping him a secret from your family like he wasn’t worth talking about. That seemed pretty deliberate to me.”
“What! That wasn’t on purpose! I did do the play, and I fixed what happened at the store, and Arnold—he—I didn’t mean to—” she floundered, not knowing how to justify the great lengths she had gone through to keep Arnold separate from the rest of her family, from Angelo. She had only been trying to keep him safe. “I don’t have to explain anything about Arnold to you! He’s none of your business!”
Angelo blinked down at her. “Hold on. It wasn’t on purpose?”
“Of course not, you big spawn of satan!”
“Oh. Well, then, all the more reason I’m glad I’m sticking around. You and I both know that pretending to be someone else can only last for so long. We’ve seen it too many times. The real you will come out eventually. Don’t worry, honey. I’ll be there for you when he turns on you again.”
“That’s—that’s not going to happen! I’m not like that! I’m a good person, I grew up—I have nicer friends than you and they like me.” She was the new Helga, the one who embraced her kindness and took care of her friends, and wasn’t so angry and sad all the time. People liked her better now. Arnold liked her. He had said so. He had said he had heard stories about her while she was away and wanted to meet the new, grown-up Helga. He had said that. And she was doing her best not to be a burden on him and be a good girlfriend.
Except she had lied to him about work and why she skipped rehearsal and messed up their first date and hurt his feelings in front of all their friends when he found out she had never even told her family about him.
The hot blood pumping through her was turning slow and sluggish at the memory of Arnold’s blank expression last night, watching her walk away. Not all of this was Angelo’s fault—it had been Helga who had gotten so paranoid she had gone totally spaztic. Criminy, I’m so stupid! Maybe I need better advice. I haven’t read Dr. Lovejoy’s blog in a while, maybe that’s where I messed up. What would she say? How can I fix this?
She looked up at Angelo, who was too quiet. He had taken the candycane out of his mouth, his icy-cold annoyance softer.
“I know. It’s scary, right?” he said, his voice much quieter. He lifted a hand to straighten out a strand of hair on her shoulder gently. “I understand. But I know all the ugly parts of the real you, and I love them. That’s why we said we’d always be there for each other, right? Because eventually all the hypocrites decide they don’t want us.”
She knocked his hand away, startling him. “And like I told you two years ago, it’s in your head. Or it’s because we actually were acting like little jerks and deserved to be hated, but I didn’t want to be like that anymore.”
For a moment, a hard edge crept back into his face. Then he smirked, popping the candy cane back into his mouth. “Alright. Keep experimenting with new yous and new people until you get bored. I’ll be here when you get tired of acting.”
She sneered at him, “I’m not acting. So break up with Rhonda and leave my friends alone.”
“Or what?”
Helga stopped in her tracks. What would she do? What could she do? She could try talking to her family, but they didn’t see the real Angelo, and he was careful to keep it that way. She got along better with her parents these days, but they had known Angelo a long time, and wouldn’t believe he was a terrible person so easily, not without proof, which Helga didn’t have. Helga doubted talking to them would do anything other than make her frustrated. She could threaten Angelo directly, but he’d been hit enough times in his life to make physical threats useless. Damn his parents for messing him up and then dumping him on her.
No, that wasn’t right. This wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own. She had been the one to encourage his behavior in the past—she had laughed while he harassed the mean math teacher at school until he quit, she had shrugged it off when the bullies at school who deserved it kept getting in trouble with plans Angelo convinced them to do, and she herself had made Olga cry one-too-many times by secretly messing up her wedding preparations. Phoebe had asked her if she was ok once, and Helga had lied and said she was totally happy. She hadn’t been happy at all, and making other people unhappy hadn’t made her any happier.
So Angelo couldn’t be happy, not really. No way. Threats against him were no good, that was what he expected from everyone. Maybe to keep Angelo from going off like a waiting bomb, she would have to try something totally out of the box.
What would Arnold do? she wondered.
“Alright, fine. Break up with Rhonda, and don’t mess with my friends,” she said, “and I’ll hang out with you more.”
He snorted a laugh. “What?”
Helga crossed her arms. “There’s no way you even like Rhonda, anyway. So ditch her. I happen to like my friends, so if you try to mess with them, I swear I’ll kick your ass, but if you can keep your cloven hooves out of their business, then fine. I’ll be your friend again.”
Angelo took a big bite of his candy cane, chewing it loudly as he considered her. He had to know she was only offering to be friends to keep him away from her real friends. The question was whether or not he cared, or if having part of her to himself was enough. He was pathetically, angrily lonely, after all, and they both knew it.
Angelo smirked. “We’re already friends, Helga. But if you need a break from your little experiments, then I’m always happy to spend more time with you.”
“So it’s a deal?” she asked.
“Sure, if you want to call it that.”
Helga nodded, not sure if she was relieved or apprehensive. She wasn’t sure what it meant to be friends with Angelo when they weren’t bullying anyone. Mostly, she still felt like a crappy girlfriend. If Angelo was subdued for the moment, then Helga’s focus quickly spiraled back to how she had messed up the last few days. Ruining the date he had planned, embarrassing him in front of all their friends, and yet still expecting him to show up and help her without question when she needed help with Patty and Harold. She hadn’t even texted Arnold to apologize at all today, completely unsure how to explain, or if he would even want to hear from her right now.
Then the break room door tried to open, getting caught on the chair Helga had put in front of it. Frankie, their overworked coworker, stuck his nose in the door, looking down at the chair. He saw Angelo and Helga standing close and froze.
“Oh, am I interrupting? Sorry,” he said, leaving.
“You’re not interrupting anything!” Helga backed away, knocking into the table. Then she hurriedly tossed the chair away from the door and opened it. “Weird, ha, how did that get there?”
“Um, sorry, just letting you know your lunch break’s over. And Mr. Pataki wants to speak with you, Helga,” Frankie said.
Helga flinched. She had more arguments lined up for the day already. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”
She left the break room, Angelo following behind her. With an annoyed sneer, he said, “Even on Christmas Eve he’s ready to yell at you at a moment’s notice. Do you see what I mean? People don’t really change.”
Helga didn’t agree or disagree. Her father was better, at least better than he had been when she was little and forgot her name all the time and forgot to pick her up from school and forgot to put her in the car when they were leaving the grocery store and left her in the parking lot. He always called her the correct name now, and they had connected over sports and their loathing for the truffle garlic aioli sauce that Miriam kept trying to put on everything.
But after the shipment fiasco the other night, which Helga had gotten blamed for, she was definitely about to be yelled at and fired. Just another thing to add to her problems this weekend. What would Christmas be without more problems?
They reached her father’s office, and Angelo said, “Don’t let him talk shit to you.”
“As if that gorilla can throw shit I can’t throw back,” she replied.
Angelo smirked, and Helga went inside.
“Hey, there you are. Sit down, kid,” Big Bob said, glancing up at her.
Helga sat down in the chair in front of his desk. It was a pretty cramped office, with a few filing cabinets and boxes of new products Bob was trying out before they ordered any. On Bob’s desk was a photo of Danny Jr, and there were only two things on the walls: one, an awkward framed picture of a farm house by a lake, which Miriam had bought for Bob’s office to “cheer it up,” and two, a poster of Olga in her shiny golden dress, holding a cell phone. The most recent marketing campaign starring Olga was flashy and got them lots of attention, but Helga couldn’t help being mildly annoyed, knowing that Olga had done that fashion shoot only four days after giving birth. Insufferable, but Helga supposed that was one of Olga’s best qualities.
Bob finished whatever he was doing on his laptop before sliding it to the side. He crossed his arms. “So. It’s no secret what happened here this weekend.”
Helga also crossed her arms. “Not with the way you were screaming about it.”
“Don’t sass me.”
“Who’s sassing? Them’s the facts, Bobby. Your voice is still hoarse.”
“It’s Mr. Pataki to you. I mean dad. It’s dad, when the office door’s closed.”
The office door was as thin as cardboard so it didn’t matter what she called him anywhere, everyone would hear. Helga thought it was a nice thought for him to have, anyway.
Then Bob pulled out an envelope and dropped it on the table in front of her. “That’s for you.”
Helga’s stomach dropped as she looked down at the envelope. She would have loved to have been fired any time in the last month to make her life easier. But now that it was happening like this, over something that she really didn’t think was her fault, she didn’t like it one bit.
“Open it,” Bob said.
With a sigh, she picked it up and pulled out what was inside. She blinked when she didn’t see a termination notice or a pink slip (did they still do pink slips? she’d seen that in a movie). In fact it was a check, made out in her name for a thousand bucks.
“What’s this?” she said dumbly.
“It’s for you,” Bob said. His arms were still crossed, but now it looked like he was very proud of himself.
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What for?”
“Why don’t we call it a holiday bonus.”
“Wait…you’re not mad at me about the shipment issue on Friday?”
“Well, I’m sure as hell not happy about that. But not everything’s about mistakes. Sometimes it’s about how well you fix them.”
Helga blinked at him. “I don’t get it.”
“You screwed up, Helga. But then you fixed it. I was impressed with how you manhandled Ronnie on the phone to get him to send us the inventory that night, and how you manhandled his assistant at three in the morning outside a Tesco and got us free shipping for the next three shipments. We would have been in a real pickle if we hadn’t gotten that inventory in. On top of that, you worked all night and day and still didn’t let down your little friends at the play. Now that’s how a Pataki handles a problem.”
Helga looked down at the paycheck in her hand, where her name was scrawled in Bob’s bad handwriting. Sometimes she talked her dad into giving her cash, but he’d never written her a check before.
Her father continued, “Anyway, kid, you’re off the hook for working in the Emporium, but if you want to stay on after the holidays, I could sure use you.”
She would have laughed in his face if he had asked her that last week. “I’ll think about it, dad.”
He was in a good mood, so he only waved his hand. “Sure, sure, sure. You think about it.”
Helga stood up. “But I’m going home right now.”
“What, now? You have two more hours on your shift!”
“Yeah, but now I have a check to cash, so if you want a last minute Christmas present you better let me go now.”
Her father laughed as she opened the door. “Get me something good!”
“You’ll have to love whatever I get you, so no complaining!” she shouted back.
Outside the door, she saw Angelo was still standing there. He looked at her, looking surprised and unhappy. “He paid you?”
“Yep,” she said, fanning herself with the check, not stopping walking.
“He didn’t yell at you?”
“Why would he yell at his best employee and his baby girl?” she replied over her shoulder. “You’re next, DeMarco. The boss will see you now!”
He shouted down the hall after her, “Where are you going?”
“To take care of something!”
She left him behind and went directly to the storage room, where they kept boxes of inventory. In a far back corner, behind the mop bucket, was a black garbage bag. She tore it open, revealing a green gift bag with green tissue paper, safely hidden away.
She carefully picked up the bag, smiling down at it. She had fixed the shipment problem right in time. She was hopefully on her way to fixing the Angelo problem. Her dad had even been impressed enough to pay her when he said he wouldn’t, and Big Bob Pataki didn’t mess around about money. So she would do her best to fix the problem she had created for Arnold.
Angelo was wrong. People did change, and Helga would prove it.
Arnold plugged in the final cord. “Alright, flip the switch!” he called.
He was crouched on the edge of the Sunset Arms roof, beside a giant menorah installment. Below him on the ground, Ernie stood with a big control box in his hands, all the wires from the roof trailing down to connect to it.
“Flipping!” Ernie called back. He smacked a button, and the menorah lit up blindingly blue against the twilight sky, making Arnold squint. From the street there was a cheer from the crowd.
Arnold smiled down at the gathered group, a congregation from the local synagogue. A few pipes had burst in the synagogue that morning, flooding the building, and Phil had been at Mr. Green’s butcher shop when the rabbi got a call about it. It was the first night of Hanukkah, and they had planned a special event to celebrate before people would go home and celebrate with their families. The rabbi had been extremely distressed, and Phil had offered to let them use the boarding house for a reasonable fee. Arnold had talked his grandfather out of charging the synagogue anything, which Phil had reluctantly conceded to.
The rabbi stood on the front steps of the boarding house, addressing the crowd beneath the glowing menorah. Ernie gave Arnold a thumbs up, so Arnold made his way back to the edge of the roof and down the fire escape ladder. Ernie’s wife, Holly, was standing at the bottom of the ladder, holding Arnold’s jacket.
In the street outside the alley, the crowd laughed at something the rabbi said. Arnold saw that Harold was there with his family. And Patty was with him. Arnold smiled.
“Good job, kid,” Holly told him. She handed him his blue corduroy jacket, which he put on over his rust-red sweater. “Also, you got a text,” Holly said.
He was used to Holly screening his calls on the landline, and even his cellphone when she had the chance. Since she had moved in, she was the nosiest one in the house, and that was really saying something. “From who?” Arnold asked, straightening his jacket.
Holly handed him back his phone, wiggling her eyebrows. “From your cute lady friend. I didn’t know she was coming tonight.”
Arnold immediately looked at his messages. Five minutes ago Helga had texted, I’m coming over, I just need three minutes to talk.
Finally, he thought with a little huff. He’d been wondering what to do all day—should he contact her first, or let her contact him? He was dying to talk to her after what had happened after the play last night. She had said she was crazy about him; she had smiled at him so sweetly when she had seen he had found her nephew. Then she had lied about not being with Arnold as soon as Angelo had shown up, and her family, apparently, had no idea she was dating anyone. On the one hand, Arnold was pretty sure Helga did actually like being with him—on the other, she had been avoiding telling him things about her family for weeks and she had clearly been avoiding telling her family about him.
On top of it all, Arnold had really not liked the way Angelo’s appearance seemed to have sucked all of Helga’s energy and attention away from anyone else—away from Arnold. And he certainly hadn’t liked the way Angelo had been looking at her, either.
He’d half expected her to text or call him as soon as she got home and was alone. She hadn’t, which was when he had realized he was upset.
Arnold quickly hit the button to call Helga. Holly snickered at him and he glared at her, instead moving out into the edge of the crowd, which felt more private than one of the boarders overhearing.
Helga answered the phone, sounding out of breath, “So I know it’s Christmas Eve and you’re evidently busy, but do you have a minute to talk?”
“Yeah, of course,” he replied. “We should talk.”
“Well good,” came Helga’s voice behind him, “because I’m already here.”
He whipped around. Helga was standing a couple feet away in her maroon puffy coat over her blue work polo, her phone to her ear. In her hand was a large green gift bag, and her breath was coming out in quick, white clouds.
“Helga,” he said in surprise.
“Hey, Arnold.” She glanced at the large crowd around them, which completely blocked the street outside his house. “Since when is the boarding house such a hot holiday spot? If you’re busy, I can come back later.”
“No, I have time. I want to talk.” He grabbed her wrist, pulling her back to the alley beside the fire escape.
Holly had left the alley to stand by Ernie at the front of the house, and most of the rest of Arnold’s family was inside, helping set up the food that the members of the synagogue had brought for everyone. The crowd in front of the house was currently focused elsewhere, not caring about the two figures who had stepped away from the crowd. For the moment, Arnold knew he and Helga had some privacy, but it might not last long.
Glancing around, he said, “Do you want to go up to my room? There’s a million people out front, obviously, but we could take the back door—well, if we hurry before everyone comes inside and then the stairs are blocked. Or we could go up the fire escape if you don’t mind that.”
“No, it’s fine! I won’t stay and get in the way. I just had to bring you this.” She held up the gift bag to him. “Your Christmas present.”
He stared at it. “But I don’t have yours.”
She snorted. “Well, yeah, it’s not like you can carry around a date in your back pocket. Come on, not even you can do that.”
“No, I got you a gift, too. But it’s not here right now.” It was in the trunk of the Packard, because that’s where he had left it along with the decorations after the failed date, and like an idiot he’d been distracted about calling Gino for info about Angelo and forgotten to take it out. Now Suzie had borrowed the Packard to take her tiny kids to a Christmas dinner at her parents, leaving Oskar behind, since he wasn’t allowed around her family anymore. Plus, his grandfather only let Suzie borrow the car if Oskar wasn’t anywhere near it.
Now here was Helga with a gift for him and Arnold was presentless.
“Oh,” Helga said. “You didn’t have to. I ruined your first gift, you didn’t have to get me something else.”
“You didn’t ruin it, it’s fine. And obviously I was going to get you an actual gift as well.”
“Oh,” she said again.
He was a little taken aback by how unsure she seemed to be about that. Also, she was standing awkwardly far away. If he stretched out his arm he wouldn’t be able to touch her. Despite his confliction about her behavior yesterday, it still seemed that as soon as she was in his sight he wanted to reach for her. Her hair looked soft. Her hands looked cold.
She continued, “Well. That’s real nice of you…but it’s fine. I wanted to make sure I gave this to you before Christmas. I could at least do that much.” She held up his gift again. “Here.”
Instead of taking the bag, Arnold stepped forward and put a hand over hers. Interesting; her hands weren’t cold. They were warm. Or maybe only in comparison to his own, which had been working on the light fixture on the roof for the last hour. He lowered her hand, leaving the present in it. “Ok. But can we talk first?” he said.
As if that had been some cue, her expression became determined and she gave one hard nod. “Yes. Ok.” Then she took a very deep breath and shot out, “I know I messed up a lot lately, and I should have told my family about you sooner, alright? I’m really sorry, and I promise I’ll make it up to you. They sometimes can be weird about things, you know, either way too involved or not at all, but actually, I’m saying that but that wasn’t the reason at all. I was just, I don’t know. In a stupor? Suspicious that I might be in a coma in a dreamworld? But that’s a lame excuse, too, because obviously after two months I should have realized I wasn’t dreaming and told them. I’m not embarrassed or trying to hide you, I swear.”
“You’re not?” he said. “So why did you tell Angelo you weren’t with me—”
She was gesturing with her hands, the present bouncing. “Yes, ok, I know, that was real bad! I panicked. Angelo can be a big jerk, and I didn’t want to have to deal with him, or have you have to deal with him. So admittedly, yes, I was hiding you from Angelo, and I acted dumb when he showed up and saw us together last night, and I feel terrible about it, and I deserve to.”
Honestly, he sort of understood her not telling her family about dating someone yet, even if it did bother him still. But the Patakis were one thing—they came along with dating Helga. Angelo was another.
“Why would Angelo have been a jerk? Why is it his business?” he asked.
Helga was already shaking her head. “He can be a jerk about anything if he feels like it. Seriously, don’t pay him any attention. If you ever run into him, ignore anything he says.”
“Alright, but why would it have mattered if he knew we were dating? Does he have feelings for you?”
An aghast, disgusted expression seized Helga. “Whoa, ew, no, gross! No way. That’s not what it is.”
He remembered Angelo last night when he was talking to Helga. He definitely hadn’t been looking at Helga the way he had been looking at Rhonda, his supposed girlfriend. Arnold wasn’t sure how he would describe Angelo’s behavior; it wasn’t gentle or bashful, and it had even seemed somewhat condescending, as if he was annoyed at Helga. Yet it had felt intimate. As if Helga was the only person Angelo really saw, the only one in the room who mattered. “Are you sure he doesn’t have feelings for you?” Arnold asked.
“Yes, criminy. The thought is seriously hilarious,” she said, although she wasn’t laughing, and neither was Arnold. “I don’t think Angelo has ever looked at someone romantically ever in his life. He’s certainly never looked at me that way. I mean, he thinks of me as his friend so he’s, I dunno, latched onto me, but trust me. It’s not romantic, I would know.”
Arnold frowned. It didn’t seem to him that simply because Angelo hadn’t had feelings for someone previously didn’t mean he never would. Besides, would she actually know? She had been surprised by Moze asking her to the dance, and she’d straight up refused to believe Arnold when he’d said he liked her.
Arnold supposed he should admit that he didn’t know Angelo well enough to really interpret any of his behavior. All he knew was that every time he had seen Helga and Angelo together, the vibe had been intimate but odd.
In his thoughts, he glanced down the alley toward the crowd outside his house. They had started singing a song in Hebrew. Soon the people would be moving in and out of the house, grabbing refreshments. He hoped no one sought him out for any reason. He turned back to Helga.
Helga had started pacing the smallest amount, a habit Arnold had noticed started any time she was feeling a lot of feelings of any kind. Currently she looked aggravated. “He’s definitely only dating Rhonda to get something out of her, but of course, Rhonda is too distracted by his pretty face. And honestly, she’s probably rebounding and embarrassed for making out with Curly at the Halloween dance and cheating on Harold, because who wouldn’t be, so she only needed a trophy boyfriend to feel better. Sheesh. Is it possible to be an anti-matchmaker for people like that? How does one go about that? Except I guess I already did it for Rhonda, so maybe I’m naturally good at it.”
“What do you mean?” Arnold asked.
Helga waved her hand. “I talked him out of it, and in a way you will no doubt approve of. Like I said, he’s latched onto me, and he doesn’t have any other friends, or family who understand him. So maybe he does need a friend to keep him in line, and he’s my family so he’s my problem. If spending more time with him will make him happy and keep him from messing with my friends simply because he’s jealous that I have friends and he doesn’t, hey, that’s fine with me.”
“Hold on. You decided to be friends with Angelo again?” Arnold thought of the tension he had seen in her every time Angelo was mentioned, let alone when he had appeared in person last night. “Why would you do that?”
“Come on, don’t even try to pretend this isn’t exactly what you would do if you were in my shoes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She paused in her pacing to give him a dry look. “You want an example?” Before he could respond, she paced again, counting on her fingers. “Stoop Kid, Torvald, Pigeon Man, Coach Wittenberg, Harold back when he was a jerk, even that monkeyass Wolfgang, although you didn’t get anywhere there...and like a buttload of other people I can’t remember. Oh, and how about me? You kept trying with me, even when I was the absolute worst to you. And that’s all before you turned ten, so there’s probably loads more obnoxiously saintly examples. Befriend and conquer is basically your M.O.”
Arnold rubbed the back of his neck. Well, he couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t his fault that he believed people were generally better than they sometimes acted, or that in most cases he was right. He’d gained several real friends that way. And then, of course, there was the girl in front of him. The angry little girl who had become someone he wanted as far more than a friend.
If Helga saw something worth giving a second chance in Angelo, Arnold wouldn’t stop her. He only wished she would confide in him instead of running around stressing him out like this.
Arnold sighed. “Alright. If you think Angelo needs a friend, I believe you. I’ll help you—”
To his astonished annoyance, she cut him off with, “Nope, nope, nope! I knew you would try that, but don’t even think about going all self-destructive-and-saintly on me. You have got to stop taking on extra work that you don’t have to.”
Arnold scoffed. “Self-destructive-and-saintly! I’m only saying that two friends is better than one—”
“I’m serious, Arnold! If you but in, I’ll be pissed. He’s my family and my problem, so I’ll handle it. I can handle it. You don’t have to worry about it. And honestly, you’ve already done enough, because if I hadn’t known you practically my whole life I probably wouldn’t be nice enough to help anyone by being their friend. You made me like this, so please just accept that as your contribution and trust me to take care of the rest!”
Arnold ran a hand over his face as she continued to pace past him. How could she always make him so conflicted? She was being stubborn for absolutely no reason, which was extremely annoying, but at the exact same time she could still pluck on his heartstrings. He was pretty sure Helga would have grown up into a great person without ever knowing him; but he was selfish, and the idea that his voice had been in her head when she was trying to be nice to Angelo made him happy.
He took a deep breath. “Ok. I trust you. But if you change your mind at any time, let me know. I would be happy to hang out with him if you want me to, or even invite him to come hang out with our friends.”
“That will not be necessary, but I thank you, kind sir, for the offer.”
Arnold sighed again. “Helga, why didn’t you tell me all this earlier? I would have understood if you said you didn’t want your family to know we were dating yet. And I would have understood if you’d said Angelo was someone you didn’t want mingling with your friends.”
She had been pacing farther down the alley as they spoke, and was currently nearly at the back of the boarding house. “Because—I don’t know—I’m an idiot—”
“You aren’t.”
“Well, Angelo isn’t someone I want to talk about.”
“Why?”
“Well, gee, I guess it’s because he’s an annoying energy-sucking vampire who enjoys getting in people’s heads and scrambling them up for fun. So he didn’t seem important, not when compared to…”
“Compared to what?” he pressed.
She rolled her eyes, her voice raising enough to echo off the brick alley walls slightly, “Compared to you, you big football-headed dork! Was it not clear how out of my mind, mortifyingly stoked I was to finally have gotten my feelings through to you? I just wanted to, you know, not care about dumb stuff and focus on things like…you…” She trailed off, huffing, not looking at him.
She paced past him and he grabbed her by the front of her jacket, pulling her beside the boardinghouse wall underneath the fire escape. His back was to the crowd, Helga in front of him, as if to shield them from view in case anyone looked over at them. In reality, Arnold was vaguely aware the rabbi had finished his address and the synagogue congregation was beginning to trickle into the house for food and hot drinks; there wasn’t much chance anyone would be looking for someone in the shadows. But finally Helga was within reach.
Out of my mind, she’d said. Crazy about you, she’d said. Arnold still had her jacket in his hand, a small smile on his face as he watched her continue fiddling with the gift bag’s handle.
As if she hadn’t been interrupted, Helga continued, her voice much quieter, “So I know I’ve already taken way longer than three minutes, I’m sorry, but I needed you to know I’ll tell my family about you, and I’m sorry about Angelo making things weird, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t anymore. I just wanted to come here and say all that. And give you this.” Helga held up the gift bag.
Arnold took it. Her fingers were still warm—probably from all of her pacing. “Will you please promise to tell me things when I need to know them from now on? At the very least so I can play along better if you’re hiding me from your parents?”
A surprised laugh escaped her, and it was prettier than all the lights he had seen and the sleigh bells he had heard that month. “I’m not hiding you. I mean, anymore. And I promise,” she said.
“Good.” He glanced over his shoulder, to just to make sure the street was mostly empty. There was only one older couple and a family with children, leaving down the street with cups and cookies in their hands. Everyone else was gone. Then Arnold dropped his attention to the gift in his hand.
“You don’t have to open it now,” she said suddenly. “You can open it tomorrow.”
“I’m opening it now,” he said.
It was quite a large bag, much larger than the gift box he had gotten for her. Their current conversation settled for the moment, he returned to feeling like a heel for not having her gift to give her. He shifted carefully through the tissue paper and discovered there was more than one item inside, each one wrapped carefully in white and red striped tissue paper. Helga reached out to hold the bottom of the bag so he could balance holding it and unwrapping at the same time.
Arnold chuckled, draping the scarf around his neck. “Is this a replacement for the one I gave you?”
“Yes, obviously,” she replied. She looked bashful now that he was actually opening the gift she had come all this way to bring. “Except it’s some kind of fancy cashmere because I think you said one time you thought wool was itchy. Is it soft enough?”
“Yeah, it’s incredibly soft. Amazing.”
She nodded, looking relieved.
He reached in for the next gift, and unwrapped a thin, polished wooden box. He opened it to find a sleek, fancy maroon pen with gold marbling, the initials A.P.S. engraved on the handle.
Helga jumped to explain, “Lila mentioned you always run out of pens when you’re working on dumb presidential stuff. This one will last longer, and I can get you ink refills.”
“It’s so nice,” Arnold said. It looked too fancy to merely use on homework and writing out proposals for more vending machines in the school hallways. Except he would use it, of course, so everyone could see it. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
He carefully put the pen box back in the bag and moved for the last gift, which was long and square. It was heavier than he expected, and he had to shift carefully so he wouldn’t drop it or the bag. He uncovered an intricate wooden picture frame, which featured a graphite sketch of his own neighborhood, the Sunset Arms visible down the street a ways. The style was unusual, with sharp messy lines and interesting curves to the roofs and windows, which he immediately liked.
“Wow, this is incredible! It almost looks like a Nate Raj Choudhury—” he stopped dead when he glanced in the bottom right corner and saw the artist’s messy but extremely familiar signature. “This is a Nate Raj Choudhury! How? Where did you get this?”
“Gerald and Phoebe told me that your favorite architect was this guy,” Helga said.
“Well, yeah, but where did you get this sketch? He sells drawings like this sometimes, but I’ve never seen this one.”
Helga shrugged, still looking bashful. “I just looked him up and realized he was from here. Obviously his contact info isn’t listed anywhere, so I took a chance and looked at the customer database at my dad’s work, and low and behold his mother is a customer of ours. So I paid her a visit. She’s a real hoot and a half.”
Arnold gaped at her. “You got this from Nate Raj Choudhury’s mother?”
“Well, no, I got his number from his mother and called him a few times. Then his mom called him and gave him an earful, so he agreed to come meet me over tea at her house, and I dunno, he decided you sounded like a good kid and the boardinghouse sounded like a cool historic old place, so, you know. He did me a favor.”
“This is…this is a custom Nate Raj Choudhury? Just for me?”
“Well, yeah. I wanted to get you something you would actually like. His mom says you should come with me to visit her sometime, and she’s not a lady I would risk disappointing, so you’ll probably have to do that, too.” When he could only stare at her, she began to look worried. “You do like it, right?”
“Yes,” he said. He looked down at the framed drawing again, feeling like he was holding gold. “This is incredible. I can’t believe you did this. I can’t believe you met him. Amazing. Thank you, for all these gifts.”
He had been pretty happy with the gift he’d gotten her, but now he felt like he was out of his league. He would seriously have to step up his gift giving game in the future.
“You’re welcome. It’s no biggie,” she said, her cheeks pink.
“It’s a huge biggie.” He turned his smile up to her. “Well, even besides that, it’s the first Christmas present you ever got me. How could they not be a big deal.”
“Pfft, it’s definitely not,” she muttered.
He paused. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind. I’m glad you like them.”
“No, what do you mean?”
“Forget I said anything. It’s embarrassing.”
“You just promised you would tell me things I need to know.”
“Ok, but you don't need to know—”
“Helga,” he said firmly.
She grumbled for a moment, cheeks still pink. Then said, “I’ve gotten you Christmas gifts before. I just didn’t tell you.”
“What? When?”
She looked ready to disappear into the asphalt, but she was still holding the gift bag for him, so she was trapped where she was. “Well...the first present I ever got you was a box of macarons Olga brought back from her study abroad in high school. I left them in your cubby at preschool. Probably doesn’t even count as a gift, really.”
Arnold blinked, a sudden memory swimming to the surface. Vaguely he remembered finding cookies inside his preschool lunchbox. He’d thought they were from Gerald at the time, since they were newly friends, and sharing them with Gerald at snack time had helped solidify their friendship. Those cookies had been important. Those cookies had been from Helga.
But Helga wasn’t finished. “In first grade I left a little skateboarding dog in your desk. It was lame, I had gotten it out of a vending machine, but it had a little blue baseball hat like yours. What did I get you in second grade? I don’t remember, all I remember is that was the first time I tried to wrap a gift myself. It was a huge mess, so I almost chickened out and didn’t drop it in your backpack when you weren’t looking, but then I did at the last second. Third grade I begged my mom to order cannolis from that bakery around the corner, which I brought to the whole class and pretended to be mad about it, but actually it was because I knew you had gotten really into cannolis that year. Fourth grade I felt like I had to step it up and get you an actual gift you would like, and ended up trading some old guy my Nancy Spumoni boots so he would find that girl you were looking for. You know, Mr. Hyunh’s daughter.”
“You what?” Arnold stared. “You…you were the reason Mr. Bailey changed his mind and found Mr. Hyunh's daughter?”
She shrugged. She was looking at the brick wall and the fire escape and a wet spot on the ground and anything but him. She didn’t acknowledge her behavior back then as out-of-character for her, but Arnold wondered if she even realized just how massive that had been. It had changed Mr. Hyunh’s entire life.
Helga kept going, as if to quickly move on, “Fifth grade I felt like I was getting better at figuring out the kind of stuff you actually wanted, so I snuck tickets into your mailbox for the Ridley Rizzo farewell concert that your grandpa really wanted to go to. Actually, I got really good that year at guessing what everyone wanted, because that was when my parents were starting to talk about moving and I was trying to keep them happy so we wouldn’t. Didn’t work out, clearly.”
“So…you’ve gotten me a Christmas gift every year since we met until you moved?” Arnold asked, dumbfounded. He looked down at the framed drawing in his hand and the green gift bag in the other. He wouldn’t just have to step up his gift-giving game to match her in the future. He was already massively behind. “That’s…that’s…”
At his stupefied stuttering she looked at him, and to his (continued) surprise, she cracked a grin. “What, you think I’m that sane? Please. I’ve gotten you a gift every year since we’ve met. Sixth grade was that big puppy adoption party in the park for that animal shelter Phoebe told me you were trying to stop from being shut down.”
“How? They said they had a wealthy anonymous sponsor for that event!”
“Yeah, it’s called funny-grandma-impression on the phone and my dad’s credit card. If you think that’s good, wait until I get to eighth grade.” She looked like she was having fun now, or maybe his gob-smacked-outrage was funny to her. “Seventh grade wasn’t a big deal, I was, well, moody that year and trying to get over you, and Angelo was Christmas shopping with me so I felt awkward about it. But then I said screw it, and I paid for a bunch of tickets to put in that raffle at the mall so your family would win that beach vacation that summer. Eigth grade I had decided that even though I was pretending to be over you I would get you something for old-time’s sake. Then I heard the boarding house was having some funding trouble for all the repairs it needed—don’t look at me like that, it’s not a secret this building’s a gazillion years old and falling apart. I spammed the city offices with letters saying this street was declared a historic landmark because of the Tomato Incident so they should provide grant money to any of the historic buildings there. I was so pissed they only gave you a fourth of what I requested, those stingy jerks, but hey, government people. They’re the stingiest of the human race. Student-government people in current company excluded.”
He suddenly desperately needed his hands to be free again. While she regaled him with Christmases past, he carefully slipped the picture frame back into the bag, took the bag out of her hands, and set it down beside them. He took hold of the edge of her jacket again and gently tugged, seeing if she would step closer. She did. “What did you get me last year?” he asked.
“Ah, well, not exactly what I wanted to. I was attempting to get the Gerald and the King’s album accepted by the pop culture museum in their local artist’s hall, but since you guys had already disbanded they didn’t take it. So I had to settle for something smaller and hired that troop of singing telegrams to reenact Die Hard outside your house on Christmas Eve. Not as meaningful, but you know. Phoebe told me your whole family got a real kick out of it, even after your grandma decided to turn it into King Kong.”
Arnold chuckled lightly, remembering that night. The people at the boarding house had talked about that strange spontaneous performance all the way until the 4th of July. Oskar had just mentioned it again that morning, wondering if the Jewish congregation would get in the way if the performers decided to show up again.
“My family loved it,” he said. “You nailed it. Every year you’ve nailed it.”
“Yeah? Well, mm, good.” She picked at the seam on the shoulder of his jacket. He chuckled again at her ability to swing so quickly between a smug smirk and a bashful blush. “At least this year you actually know its from me.”
“You should have told me sooner.”
She snorted, her black eyebrows dropping low to look at him like he was stupid. “Yeah, right. You remember what I was like, right? You would have thought I was completely bonkers crazy or making fun of you or something.”
“You’re definitely completely bonkers crazy.”
She shoved his shoulder, as if to push him away from her, but he was prepared—he had already moved his hands beneath her jacket to hold onto her waist. So she only succeeded in knocking them both a step back until Arnold’s back bumped the fire escape ladder behind him, keeping them from falling over. She had fallen against him, leaning into him from her knees to her chest, her eyes wide in surprise. Ah, ok—so this was how close she had to be for him to feel like she was close enough. So close he could see the different shades of blue in her eyes and exactly how deep the curve of her lips was and feel her warm breath against him. He slid his arms around her waist, keeping her there.
“It’s fine,” he said. “I like completely bonkers crazy. I like you. In fact…” He leaned forward, touching his cheek to hers, his lips near her ear. He felt her tense slightly, her hands gripping the front of his sweater tightly. He whispered, “I’m completely crazy in love with you.”
He felt her flinch, but when he pulled back to see what expression was on her face, she kissed him. He gladly kissed her back, only slightly annoyed that she always managed to do what he was trying to do before him. Her arms slid up his chest and around his neck and he tightened his arms around her and he found, oh, it was possible for her to be even closer. Even better. But he wasn’t going to let her get away with always taking the lead. So when she kissed him again with her lips parted, he let his tongue brush against her upper lip before carefully entering her shocked mouth. She recovered from her shock and her tongue met his eagerly. She pressed against him harder, the fire escape ladder digging into his back. Her tongue was warm. Her fingers were in his hair. The street was empty and dark except for holiday lights in the distance. Vaguely, when a cold flake landed on his cheek, he was aware it might have started snowing. The first snow of the year.
He had said he loved her before, in front of the whole school, and he was pretty sure he had meant it then. But not like he did now. How that was possible over the course of only a few months, he didn’t really know, and he didn’t really care. All that mattered was that every second since she had stepped off the bus four months ago—no, probably every second since he’d first seen her in the rain outside the preschool—she’d been filling up his head more and more. And that was before he’d even known about all her ridiculous, anonymous Christmas presents over the last ten years.
With that thought inside of him, he would have kissed Helga all night, completely satisfied to hold her against him well into Christmas morning. And she seemed like she wouldn’t mind that—she must have completely forgotten that she said she would only be there for three minutes. Who knows how long ago that had been, anyway. When his cold nose brushed her cold cheek, more snowflakes falling around them, Arnold reluctantly remembered they definitely couldn’t stay in the cold alley all night. He should take her home, he thought. But he kept kissing her, his hands in her hair now. Every time her hair moved it smelled faintly of Eau de l'Étreinte. She tasted even better than that.
He felt her phone buzzing in her jacket pocket before he heard it. She didn’t stop to answer it, maybe she didn't even notice it ringing, but Arnold thought her family must be calling. It was Christmas Eve, after all. They no doubt wanted her home ages ago. So two minutes later, when it began ringing again, Arnold pulled back.
“Should you answer that?” he asked, his voice low. His heart was pounding oddly hard in every vein.
She shook her head, kissing him on the cheek and the chin and the lips. Her phone kept ringing.
"You sure?" he asked, selfishly hoping she would say it was definitely a spam caller and she could stay longer.
With a sigh, Helga pulled back, glaring at him. There were little white snowflakes sitting in her hair, making her look like a grumpy angel. It might have been the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
She dug her phone out of her pocket. She didn't look at the screen before she answered, but Arnold caught a glimpse of a nameless number. “What?” Helga said into the phone.
Arnold noticed she hadn’t pulled away from him, her free arm around his waist. He took it as permission to keep touching her. He straightened her hair and her collar. There was a low voice on the other end of her phone, but Arnold couldn’t hear what was being said. But he knew she must be talking to Angelo.
“I was just running some errands,” Helga said. Then her eyes flicked over to Arnold, and more hesitantly she said, “Actually...I’m with my boyfriend.”
Arnold let out a silent snort, knowing she had said that for his benefit. He felt a little silly for being so upset with her earlier. Angelo’s name wasn’t even in her phone; and she would clearly rather be here with Arnold. He leaned toward her slightly, smirking when he saw how easily he distracted her, her eyes immediately falling to his lips. Her own lips were slightly pink from being kissed for so long, the same pink as her cheeks.
But then Angelo drew her attention back. “She burnt what?” Helga asked, then rolled her eyes. “Yes, I can hear her crying. Did you mess with the timer? Alright, just asking, sheesh. Ok, fine. Yes, I’m coming home. No, I’ll take the bus...No, I’ll take the bus! Criminy. See you in a minute.”
She hung up.
“Sorry,” she said to Arnold, looking bashful again. “I didn’t mean to take up so much of your night.”
Arnold couldn’t help laughing.
“What are you laughing at?” she demanded.
“You.” He kissed her on the corner of her mouth, liking how she easily let him and how her eyes were closed when he pulled back. “I’ll take you home.”
She immediately straightened away from him. “Come on, it’s Christmas Eve. You’ve got stuff to do. I really can take the bus.”
He picked up his gift and took her hand with the other hand. “I have a surprise I want you to see anyway.”
That piqued her interest. “I thought you said my gift wasn’t here?”
“A different surprise.”
He pulled her down the alley and around the back of the house, entering the back yard through the gate. He let her in through the back door, then told her to wait there. He snuck through the back hall, carefully avoiding his grandparents, only waving casually to the few remaining guests who were finishing off the food. His grandmother had already donned her leprechaun Christmas pajamas and was trying to wrestle Abner into his. Arnold set down his gift in a safe place, grabbed a key ring from the hook, and hurried back to Helga, pulling her through the garage door.
“Ta da!” he said when they entered, gesturing to the old car sitting in the garage. It was small, boxy, and burgundy, except the trunk had been replaced so it was silver and didn’t match.
Helga blinked at it. “Did your grandpa get swindled and have to trade in the Packard? He got a real crappy deal, I’m afraid.”
Arnold chuckled, leading the way to the passenger side of the car. “No, this is my car.”
“You have a car? Please. Since when?”
“Since last week. It’s Mrs. Vitello’s son’s old car. I paid him last week and he dropped it off this morning as an early Christmas present.” He pulled open the passenger door for her, smiling at her expectantly.
Helga stared at the car, then him. “You bought a car?”
“Yep.”
“Were you swindled? Does this hunk of metal even drive? Will you die?”
“It drives fine. And more importantly, the heating and air conditioning work great. Perfect for chauffeuring around a girlfriend who lives on the other side of town.”
“Who? Me?” She pointed at herself doubtfully.
“You’re my only girlfriend, so yes.”
“But…all your hard work at the perfume shop. You sure you don’t want to save up for something you wanted?”
“Why do you think I took that job? I wasn’t going to let you take the night bus all the time.”
“What?” She looked over the car again, as if it suddenly wasn’t as old as it was before. “You…I…why would you…”
He gestured again for her to take the passenger seat. “Call me a worrywart, if you want. But you can’t fight me on this one. I’ll win.”
She didn’t fight him, but she did grab his face and kiss him again. With tongue, he was happy to note.
She made fun of the car almost the entire drive to her house, but she did it in such a happy manner he could only laugh the whole time. Then she called him a dangerous rebel when he took one hand off the steering wheel to hold her hand. By the time they were exiting the freeway toward her neighborhood, she had named the car Maureen and vowed to get a plethora of auto accessories with that name all over. He told her Maureen would be grateful.
He stopped at the curb a few houses down from her door, figuring she would prefer that. They sat in the warm car in silence for a second. Then Helga said, “Thank you, Arnold.”
He didn’t think she was talking about the ride home. “For what?” he asked.
“For giving me a second chance.”
“…A second chance at what?”
She didn’t respond to that, instead looking out the front window toward her house. His hand was still across the console, held in both of her hands. Then she turned to him with a small smile. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” he replied, wishing she wasn’t always holding something back from him. But after tonight, he thought it would be better. His job at the shop would be over by New Year’s Eve, giving him more free time. She would be friends with Angelo instead of lying to Arnold about him, and Arnold was determined to make her parents like him. Then he would take her on so many dates and kiss her so many times she would be forced to tell him everything she ever tried not to tell him.
Then Helga’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she rolled her eyes. “Geeze, alright, I’m coming. I’ll see you later, Arnold.”
“Ok. Goodnight.”
She got out of the car and into the lightly falling snow. He watched her walk down the sidewalk a few yards before she stopped, looked around the empty street, then turned around and gestured for him to roll down his window. He did, leaning his head out.
“I love you, you ridiculous worrywart of a football head!” she shouted.
He burst out laughing, hard enough he didn’t get the chance to shout anything back before she had walked too far away. He rolled back up his window, watching with a smile as she hopped up her front steps and shoved her way into her front door.
Out of his periphery he saw someone else on the sidewalk, walking past his car. It was Angelo, in an oversized black coat, a candycane sticking out of his mouth. He looked down at Arnold, an eyebrow raised. Arnold wondered if he should wave, but Angelo’s sneer froze him where he sat. How long had Angelo been outside? Was he coming back from an errand? Or had he been waiting for Helga?
Angelo passed the car, then stopped and turned back. He also gestured for Arnold to lower the window.
Arnold did, and Angelo crouched slightly to say, “Nice car.”
“Thanks,” Arnold said cautiously.
“I see you brought her home.”
“That’s my job.”
“Huh,” Angelo said. “Is it?”
“I hear you two are going to be friends again.”
“Yeah? You heard that?” Angelo smirked. “She tells you lots of stuff, huh?”
“Yeah, she does,” Arnold replied. Never mind that getting Helga to talk about important things was still on his to-do list. That wasn’t Angelo’s business. “She tells me everything.”
“Isn’t that cute,” Angelo said. Arnold wasn’t sure if he meant he and Helga were cute or that Arnold was lying about Helga telling him everything. Either way, it annoyed Arnold.
“I know. We’re very cute,” Arnold replied with a smile.
Angelo chuckled, and suddenly his customer-service smile was on his face. “Well, merry Christmas, Mr. Boyfriend.”
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Friend. ”
Angelo paused, and Arnold wasn’t sure why he had said that. Helga had said she had Angelo handled, and Arnold believed her. But right now Arnold was also sure he had been right: Angelo had looked at Helga funny the other night. He had looked at her like he had been jealous.
And Arnold, just now, had accidentally tried to put Angelo in his place. And Angelo knew it.
Angelo straightened, eyeing Arnold with a smirk. “Oh,” he said cryptically. “Ok.”
Arnold held his gaze steadily, knowing he couldn’t take it back now. Angelo only turned away and walked down the sidewalk to the Patakis’ house. Arnold watched him walk up the steps and enter the house as if he owned it.
Then the passenger door opened, and Arnold jumped in surprise as Big Gino slid into the front seat.
“Happy Christmas, Mr. President,” Gino said as Arnold stared at him.
“Big Gino? What are you doing? How are you here?” Arnold demanded. He looked around the street, wondering if there were any other people on this seemingly-empty street ready to pop out and scare him. There were two high schoolers in suits on either side of the car now, standing guard. On the other side of the street and twenty yards back was a parked car which hadn’t been there before.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” was all Gino said. He wasn’t a big kid, probably a few inches shorter than Arnold, but that didn’t matter. He could be the biggest kid in school for all his under-the-table influence. Gino straightened his fur-lined dress coat over his suit, looking around at Arnold’s car. “A 1991 Dodge Dynasty. Wasn’t aware these were still around. Nothing fancy, but she’ll get it done. What did your girl call her? Maureen?”
“How did you know that?”
Big Gino opened the glovebox and dug around to find a small black transmitting device. He put it in his pocket. “Nothing personal, just keeping tabs on you until our business is finished. Don't worry, my boys removed the other bugs this afternoon."
Arnold wondered just exactly where and how many devices Gino had put on Arnold.
Gino nodded his chin toward the Patakis’ house. “So, that was the guy? Angelo DeMarco.”
“Yeah. That was him.”
“I won’t lie, when you called to put me on his tail, I thought you were being overly protective on account of your new squeeze. But color me intrigued.” Big Gino reached into his coat, pulled out a manila envelope, and handed it to Arnold. “Here you are, my old friend.”
Arnold took the envelope and looked at it. He had almost forgotten he’d asked Big Gino to do this, and he certainly hadn’t expected him to get back to him after only three days. Now he felt guilty about going behind Helga’s back. She had told him about Angelo and asked Arnold to trust her. Although what if there was something in here Arnold should know? Even still, opening this envelope felt like a betrayal now. If Helga wasn’t the one to tell him, it probably wasn’t right to sneak around and find out himself.
Big Gino was saying, “At first I wondered why you didn’t sick Mickey the Weasel on him. I know you’ve been using him for intel—no, no, don’t worry. I won’t tattle. I like that there’s a student body president who works like I do. Anyways, I realized pretty quickly why you had to come to me for help—on the surface, there was absolutely nothing to find about this guy. Suspiciously nothing, which is how I knew you were asking for real. You actually gave us someone fun to dig into. Aren’t you going to open it? Your girlfriend’s in it.”
Arnold flipped over the envelope and opened it. Inside there was a stack of papers, scanned photos, and newspaper clippings.
“To sum it up,” Gino said, “your girl’s boy is a master of keeping on the DL. As far as the record is concerned, he’s a golden boy who’s never done anything wrong ever in his life. Other than his stint in detention with your girl in the seventh grade, but who hasn’t done a stint in detention in the seventh grade? Although to be fair, it looks like that was mostly your girlfriend’s fault. Seems she still has a mean right hook.”
Arnold saw that—there was a photocopied sheet and photos detailing two weeks of detention for getting in a fight with three other kids, which Arnold thought looked like younger versions of the three high schoolers Helga had gotten into a fight with at the basketball game two months ago. There was a picture of Angelo and Helga which looked oddly like a mugshot and made Arnold wonder exactly what Helga’s old rich school was like. Thirteen year old Helga still had pigtails and was wearing a pink long sleeved shirt under her black t-shirt. There were bruises on her face and a band aid on her cheek. She looked pissed off and cold, meaner than Arnold had ever seen her in elementary school. He didn’t know this Helga. Phoebe had never talked about her like this—maybe Phoebe had never seen her like this.
Beside her mug shot was Angelo—the smaller version of him was smiling pleasantly at the camera, all dimples and curls. There were no bruises or scratches anywhere on him.
Next to the picture of the young bullies who Helga had fought with, complete with their bruises and bloody noses, was a newspaper article from a few weeks ago. Jerry and his friends, handcuffed beside a police car. It was a scanned picture of the article, and Gino had written below it: Did he do this too?
“Other than that, there’s nothing,” Gino continued. “Nothing to pin on him directly, but lots of interesting things around him that smell like last week’s anchovy pizza. For example, multiple of his classmates from the third grade on up have ended up expelled or having to switch schools for their own safety. There were no other records of troubled students anywhere else in the school except his classes, and they were big schools. His aunt he lives with has money, it seems. Also, three of his teachers were fired while he was in their class. Two of his neighbors were tipped off about their spouse’s affairs anonymously and it turned real messy, broken windows, slashed tires, etc. A salesman who sold his older brother a car was exposed for fraud and embezzling the day after the DeMarco’s met him, and now he’s doing twenty years of jail time. And an entire bachelorette party was arrested for illegal drug possession, except none of them could remember where the drugs had come from. Oh, and the bride was his brother's ex-high-school-girlfriend. The drug pusher they tracked the drugs back to said nothing except he was introduced to the bridal party by someone who had called him the day before, by his account a young kid. You following me on all this, Arnold?”
“Yes,” Arnold said.
Arnold flipped through the files, glancing over everything. Many of the photos were from a distance, as if from security cameras, except many of the pictures were of Angelo when he was much younger. Arnold didn’t want to know how or where Big Gino had gotten his hands on these. In some of the pictures, Helga was there. In her pigtails, leaning against a wall and eating an ice cream cone beside Angelo, or sitting on top of a fence post on the pier next to him, tossing rocks between the fishermen’s boats. There were several of them at school, too, and in one of them Agatha was there, holding onto Helga’s arm. Helga’s pigtails were gone, looking a little older than the other pictures—she was saying something angrily to Angelo while he looked away, unconcerned. There was even a photo of Olga and Danny DeMarco’s wedding, with young Helga looking cute and grumpy in a puffy lace dress and a huge lacey bow, sticking her tongue out at the camera beside a smirking Angelo in a little tux.
“But this is all circumstantial, right?” Arnold said. “I mean, there’s no proof he caused any of those problems, so maybe he didn't.”
“True, true. But in my line of work, you follow the connected dots, if you know what I’m saying. Besides, check the last file.”
Arnold flipped to the back, where a photocopy of a handwritten note was stapled to a copy of an employee file for a teacher, Ms. Fredrickson, who looked middle aged and pretty. With the file were the student photos of Angelo, Helga, and an athletic boy with sandy brown hair. Helga and Angelo’s pictures looked recent—maybe last year.
“Meet Tyson Barnes and Ms. Amelia Fredrickson,” Big Gino said. “This freshman athlete and health teacher were caught in a sordid affair last October. Twenty-two year difference, not to mention with a fifteen year old, so federal offence obviously. She’s doing time upstate, and his family moved to the west coast. He’s deep in therapy at an all boy’s school.”
“What’s that have to do with Angelo and Helga?” Arnold asked.
Big Gino tapped the photo of the brown-haired boy. “Tyson here was on the basketball team, and had a notable dislike for Ms. Pataki joining the boy’s team. Was very vocal about it, complained to the coach and the principal, and his father even sent an email about the same thing. There’s record of your girl in more than one argument with him during practice that got them both benched for the day. Then, suspiciously, there’s this.” Gino pulled another photo out from behind the teacher’s file. It was a blurry photo, but Arnold could clearly see Angelo walking down the school sidewalk beside Tyson, a friendly smile on his face. “Angelo befriends him, somewhere around the beginning of October. Three weeks later, Tyson, who wasn’t even in health class, was anonymously reported to be seen kissing Ms. Fredrickson in her office. The relationship was proved, Ms. Fredrickson and Tyson both admitted to several weeks of rendezvous, but then, off the record, the principal got another tip—that our young fool Tyson was given the idea and encouraged to pursue Ms. Fredrickson by someone else. Guess who?”
“Angelo.”
“Bingo. The principal left that note you have about the situation, said there wasn’t any proof other than the tip, so she didn’t publicly punish Angelo. But when she called his parents, they apparently can't be in a room together because they immediately got in a huge fight in front of the principal, and Angelo was taken away to live with his father for the next several months. Until recently. But that’s not the best part.”
Arnold couldn’t imagine what about this situation could be good. “What’s the best part?”
“The person who tipped off the principal about Angelo setting up the teacher and student?” Gino tapped Helga’s freshman school photo. “It was your girl.”
“Helga turned him in?”
“Her old partner, thrown right under the bus. Brutal, but you gotta respect it. I’ve had to do the same myself on occasion.”
“Did Angelo know it was her?” Arnold wondered if he would hold a grudge, even against Helga, who he seemed to care about in some way.
“Unclear, although if I had to guess, I’d say yes. He seems smart enough for that, and from what I can tell, his and Helga’s falling out had already happened before that. Although he called and texted her a helluva bunch when he moved, until all their contact dried up. Voila! Then he came back to town, and here we are.”
“Anything since then? Anything around Rhonda?”
“Ms. Rhonda Wellington Lloyd?” Big Gino chuckled. “I’ve got photos of them splitting a milkshake and fries and two of them walking around the mall on different days, but not much that's interesting. If he’s up to something with her, he hasn’t acted on it yet. If you’re asking about anything else he might be up to recently, I can’t say. He’s a quiet worker. Or maybe he’s up to nothing. Although, if I were you, I’d keep an eye on that coach of yours.”
“Coach? You mean Beezus?” Arnold frowned. “You think he’s after Beezus?”
Gino nodded his head back toward one of the guards standing outside. “Reggie was tailing him this afternoon—he stopped to take a phone call, which we tracked back to Beezus’s missus. So we checked into the old man and apparently he’s been on the rocks with his ol’ lady for debts that have recently been dragged into the light, not to mention weekend meetings with some blondie over on the south side. And on that note, you should watch your back, too, Arnold.”
Arnold looked at him in surprise. “You think he’d try to come after me? The first time I even talked to him was tonight.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be about you, my old friend. Whatever the complications he has with Helga, he still seems to have her back. Poor victimized Tyson is proof enough, but if Beezus goes down, that’s another fatality in her favor.”
Arnold frowned. “You think he’d come after Coach Beezus because of how he kicked Helga off the basketball team? But he let her back on and she quit herself.”
Gino shrugged. “I don’t know of any another reason he might have beef with the coach. Since Angelo’s been back, he’s only attended his own school a handful of times, and otherwise seems to go out on his own aimlessly, go out with Rhonda, or work at the Patakis’ Emporium. If anything, his main connection to the outside world is currently through Helga. Or maybe it was always that way.”
Big Gino looked way too interested in this entire thing. Arnold didn’t like any of it.
“But that’s exactly why you should be careful, Arnold,” Gino said then. “If I were you, I’d lay low.”
“Lay low? How can I lay low if Helga’s in trouble—”
“No, Helga’s not in trouble. You’re in trouble. Helga’s the center of this guy's life. She’s safe as a kitten in a baby cradle being rocked by a one-man revenge machine. And from what I’ve seen, Helga knows it. Despite their falling out, he hasn’t given up on her yet. Which is why you are a threat to him. You're taking her away.” Gino tapped the pictures of Helga, Angelo, and Tyson again. “It’s clear she knows more than you or I about this guy. You’ve got a real firecracker on your hands; I’d let her handle it like she said she would.”
Arnold snorted. “Really? You’d lay low and do nothing while she deals with him alone?”
Big Gino gave him a sly smile. “Well. I’d at least appear to be doing nothing. While I took care of it in other ways.” Gino patted his shoulder. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. President. Have a swell holiday.”
Gino knocked against the window and the guard on that side of the car opened the door for him. The guard opened an umbrella over Gino as he stepped out, keeping the snow off of him.
“Wait, Gino. What do I owe you for this?” Arnold asked.
Gino waved over his shoulder. “Consider it a favor. And if I ask for a favor in the future, I’m sure you’ll gladly help me out.”
Arnold winced. Owing Big Gino a favor was so much worse than paying him any amount of money. But Arnold had known the risks when he had asked Gerald for Gino’s number.
The guard shut the door behind Gino, and the three boys in suits walked across the street to their car. Arnold watched them pull away, the manila envelope still laying in his hands. The snow was falling much heavier now. Arnold sat back in the seat of his car, looking at Helga’s door, the street finally empty on that quiet Christmas Eve night.
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The_JAM on Chapter 1 Sat 31 May 2025 05:51PM UTC
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The_JAM on Chapter 2 Sat 31 May 2025 08:04PM UTC
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yellomello on Chapter 2 Fri 20 Jun 2025 11:50AM UTC
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The_JAM on Chapter 3 Sun 01 Jun 2025 12:33PM UTC
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The_JAM on Chapter 4 Mon 02 Jun 2025 02:06AM UTC
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The_JAM on Chapter 5 Mon 02 Jun 2025 05:15AM UTC
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The_JAM on Chapter 6 Mon 02 Jun 2025 11:18AM UTC
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Athenea_Darcy on Chapter 6 Sat 07 Jun 2025 05:02AM UTC
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The_JAM on Chapter 7 Tue 10 Jun 2025 10:28AM UTC
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The_JAM on Chapter 8 Thu 12 Jun 2025 11:29AM UTC
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Lily (Guest) on Chapter 8 Sun 15 Jun 2025 06:56PM UTC
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The_JAM on Chapter 9 Thu 19 Jun 2025 02:52AM UTC
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The_JAM on Chapter 10 Wed 25 Jun 2025 03:05AM UTC
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ClauCalcetin on Chapter 10 Wed 25 Jun 2025 08:28PM UTC
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The_JAM on Chapter 11 Sat 28 Jun 2025 05:21AM UTC
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baby030reki on Chapter 11 Sat 28 Jun 2025 07:26AM UTC
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The_JAM on Chapter 12 Fri 04 Jul 2025 04:27AM UTC
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The_JAM on Chapter 13 Sat 12 Jul 2025 02:36AM UTC
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TheTinyTempest on Chapter 14 Fri 18 Jul 2025 07:08PM UTC
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The_JAM on Chapter 14 Fri 18 Jul 2025 08:31PM UTC
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TheTinyTempest on Chapter 16 Fri 15 Aug 2025 09:48AM UTC
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