Pairing(s): Arnold/Helga Words: 1,244 Warning(s): High School
The blonde ball player tosses his backpack in the back of his rusty old blue pickup and jumps into the passenger seat. He is dressed in his warmest winter coat, but his blue cap remains in its place beneath the fuzzy hood. The truck starts up, but the boy decides not to move until the heat surrounds the cab. Once it finally does, he pulls out of the school parking lot. Leaving tire tracks in the snow, he almost leaves when something catches his attention. A very familiar blonde girl in a pink winter's jacket is standing outside of a nice new red convertible, cursing against the wind. He pulls up beside her and rolls down the passenger side window.
"Helga, you okay?"
"Criminy, Football Head!" She all but screams. "Do I look okay?"
He barely shies away, used to her insulting shouts by now. "Need a lift?"
She stares between her sorta-secret love and her broken-down car a few times. Finally, she gives the car a final kick and grabs her backpack. She pulls the door open as Arnold closes the window with a smile. She groans a little at the sheer optimism of the boy beside her. She lets it slide as she takes in the warmth.
"Going to the Christmas party next week?" His voice breaks her out of the fireplace-
esque serenity.
"No." She scoffs. "I have better things to do with my time than to hang out with a bunch of Hillwood losers."
"Going to the Alps this year?" He asks politely as they come to a stoplight.
"Yeah." She answers, dripping in sarcasm. "Mommy and Daddy are going to take me skiing down the mountains and then we'll have good, old-fashioned hot cocoa in a nice, warm hotel with a magical marshmallow fireplace."
Arnold turns to look at her cautiously. Helga has been sarcastic in her comments before, and she has shoved a few people around when they made too many attempts at conversation. Not only is she continuing the conversation, but she is also doing so in a self-destructive manner that makes Arnold slowly start to fear for his life. A scenario runs through his mind of his childhood frenemy snapping in her seat and lunging for him, only to make them spin out of control and have a date with the semi-frozen lake.
Rather than make the mistake of once more asking if she's okay, he decides to continue with her charade. "Sounds like fun."
"What's your big plans, Arnold-o?" She asks, a little less annoyed.
He sits back and continues driving. "Family dinner with Grandma and Grandpa. The rest of the boarders are going to the party."
"Family dinner, huh?" She replies in a quiet voice. "Sounds nice."
He turns down her street. "You wanna come over?"
"No, I don't wanna be a bother."
"You wouldn't be a bother."
He pulls up to the curb of her house. She roughly grabs her backpack and glares at him while harshly thrusting the door open. "I said no!"
Helga slams the door closed and marches toward her house. Arnold takes notice that no lights seem to be on in the house. It starts snowing again as he also sees that there are no cars in the driveway. Helga's old pink bike is the only thing that can count for a vehicle, but it is rusted and would most likely fall apart if handled the wrong way. He sighs, as he sees no lights being turned on. Still, he respects her privacy and turns to go home.
Inside the Pataki residence, Helga throws her backpack toward the couch and grabs a candle from the kitchen table. She grabs a cigarette lighter from her pants pocket to make a flame for said candle. She stays bundled up, shivering from the cold of no electricity. She briefly wanders to the living room, trying to recount her father's argument for cementing the fireplace those years ago before the "separation".
She shakes her head and climbs the stairs to her room. She bypasses her old desk where she used to write song lyrics on her emotions and before that, poetry. She ignores her longing bookshelf and glares at her cell phone, currently dead. She then sets her lit candle on the nightstand and flops onto her bed, cuddling with a plush animal under the covers. She thinks about who she would call even if she did have her phone on.
The only people who even have her number are her parents, Olga, Phoebe and Arnold. Her mom is on a retreat somewhere in Europe with the other members of her alcoholics anonymous.. Helga calls it a cult. Her dad left on a business trip three weeks ago and he is actually in a jail cell somewhere two states over due to a shady deal gone sour. Olga is in Alaska, or Antarctica, or somewhere icy twenty-four/seven with no reception. Phoebe is in Japan for the holidays, though it isn't like they've talked much here lately. Finally, Arnold is about to have a nice, quiet dinner. With his grandparents. In heat. And electricity.
Helga sits up, thinking about it. Seriously thinking about it. In an instant, she jumps up. She grabs a pair of pajamas, her beanie, her pink ribbon, her toothbrush and her ice-
skates. Helga races downstairs after extinguishing the candle. She doesn't need to see to know where she is going. Nothing has changed much in the past five years. She collapses on the couch and throws everything into her backpack - aside from the skates. She tosses her shoes into the bag as well and locks the door as she exits into the snow in her skates.
She takes a quick breath as she covers half her face with a scarf Arnold's grandmother made her years ago. The name 'Helen' is stitched into it. She smiles under the wrap and starts skating down the icy roads to Arnold's boarding house. Helga knows all the shortcuts leading there through years and years of her hidden feelings. In the back of her mind, she supposes the same could be said about Brainy and her. When her mind finally comes back to reality, Arnold's place is in her sights.
Arnold is feeling a little off about leaving Helga in what seems to be an empty house. He has called the house twice, resulting in a disconnection error, and her cell phone once, going straight to voicemail. He tries to brush it off by setting the table but his grandparents can easily tell when something is wrong.
"What is it, Kimba?"
"Nothing, Grandma."
"Girl trouble, Shortman?" His grandpa laughs.
"Not exactly." Arnold answers, his response almost always reserved for a certain pigtailed girl from PS 118.
"The girl with the one eyebrow then." Phil nods in understanding.
"Did she hit you with a fishing net?" Gertie laughs.
"No," He rubs the back of his neck in a guilty manner. "It's just I gave her a lift home and, I don't know, I think"
His train of thought is cut short as the doorbell rings. The grandparents look toward the door and Arnold sighs. He shakes his head, secretly glad for the interruption, and answers the door.
"Helga?"
"Hey, Arnold." She shifts uncomfortably. "Your offer still stand?"
"Sure." He smiles genuinely. "Come on in."
Helga smiles and obliges. She removes her skates at the door, as well as her jackets. Her hair is down and it comes just past her shoulders. She isn't wearing any makeup and no jewelry aside from a gold heart-shaped locket. She is wearing a pink sweater and blue jeans, with knee-high boots. Arnold is wearing a blue tee, blue pajama pants and sneakers - with his blue ball cap as well. She follows him into the kitchen and has a seat as he makes for an extra place.
"You made it, Helen." Arnold's grandma exclaims cheerfully.
"You bet, Gertie." She grins.
Phil looks over at her. "Where are your parents, Missy?"
"Grandpa." Arnold looks over at him with a disapproving look. "We are sixteen years old. Not nine."
"It's fine, Arnold." She brushes it off. "Miriam's at some fancy retreat and Bob's snowed in at Capmol."
"Cap-mol?" He scratches his head. "Where's that?"
Helga shrugs. "Beats me. They won't be back for a few weeks, though."
"Where are you staying?" Arnold asks, sitting down next to her.
"Home, I guess. There's no electricity, but I'll make do. A Pataki's always resourceful."
"Nonsense." Gertie hollers, bringing in the meal. "You'll stay here with us?"
"Really?" A collective of three announces. Arnold's is hopeful, Phil's is confused and Helga's is excited.
"Of course." She smiles. "We'll be honored to look after you while your folks are away."
"Thank you." She is practically speechless.
"No one's using Oskar's old place." Arnold points out.
"Perfect!" Gertie agrees. "She can room there. Kimba can take you shopping for clothes tomorrow."
"I can just get some from my house."
"Perfect." She repeats. "Kimba can take you. Now, eat up."
"Thanks, Gertie." She looks over to her longtime crush and subtly glosses over his fingers. "Thank you, Arnold."
[][] I love love love Helga G. Pataki. This may be one of the longest one-shot I've wrote (at least for this challenge). It was fun. I love Gertie too. I'll get back to ICBLIUTB after Christmas. I promise! [][]