Mighty, mighty Pete

by AnakinJY

"If life was fair do you think we would be in a childhood tree house drinking wine illegally at the age of 18 only to discuss the things that we were trying to escape? Finally, and whatever number we're on, I am a chump. Because I do care." Two-shot.

Two years ago, I had a terrible fight with Big Bob, I was so mad I stormed out of the house. I walked down the block past Slausen's and Green Meats to Mighty Pete. I don't know why I choose Mighty Pete, but I did. And since that night, every night I need to get out I just walk to Mighty Pete. Big Bob and I have been fighting more than usual, and Miriam either make matters worse or is passed out behind the couch. I've spent most of the past month up in Mighty Pete.

I either work on homework or write. Occasionally I paint. Sometimes I just turn on my iPod and sleep. Tonight it's the last one. I didn't sleep too well last night, and almost fell asleep during English, which would have been okay if it hadn't been during a test. I turn on an alarm on my phone and set it for five so I can go back to my house and get home before anyone wakes up and realizes I'm gone. Then I can sleep as long as I would like. Thank God for the weekends.

Kids don't really use Mighty Pete these days. They're too busy playing video games or becoming morbidly obese, and no one from the days of P.S. 118 would randomly hang out in Mighty Pete at 1 AM. So, Mighty Pete has pretty much become mine. I grab my sleeping bag from the corner and lay it out on the floor and crawl in. I turn on my iPod and drift off to sleep.

I wake up to someone shaking me, "Helga? Helga Pataki?"

"Criminy, Olga, bug off. I'll get to school when I get there." I roll over so I'm on my stomach, when I realize I'm not in my room. I fell asleep in Mighty Pete. And it isn't Olga trying to wake me up. I roll back over and sit up immediately to see who's discovered my hide-out.

My heart begins pounding when I see Arnold kneeling by me. "Helga, what are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same thing, Arnold."

Arnold plays with the zipper on his jacket, "I just needed to get out of the house. I was taking a walk and I saw Mighty Pete. I thought I would come up here for old time's sake and here you are. You don't live here do you? Is everything okay back at home?"

I shrug, "I don't live here, Arnold, criminy, I'm not some tree girl. Things are normal back at home. Big Bob and I fight, Miriam drinks, Olga cries. Pretty typical for the Patakis."

"If you don't live here, then why are you sleeping here? You even have a toothbrush here and some clothes. And books."

"None of your business, okay? It's not like you own Mighty Pete. Where I go and when I go there are none of your concern." I growl.

He puts his hand on my knee, "You are my concern though, Helga. We've been friends since we were little kids. I'm just worried about you."

Criminy, Arnold's not going to give up unless I give him something. Normally I would be ecstatic to be talking to him like this, but not when he's accusing me of being homeless and living in Mighty Pete. "I come here when I need to get out of my house."

"Is that why you were sleeping here?"

"I was sleeping here because I didn't sleep well last night and almost fell asleep during an English test." I sigh, "I don't always sleep here. Sometimes I do homework or write or paint. Sometimes I sleep. It's not a big deal."

"You know, it's weird, I was thinking earlier, about the Thanksgiving we went to Mr. Simons house."

I laugh at the memory. Out of all the people for me to bump into on Thanksgiving, it was Arnold. Of course. "That's not our best holiday, Arnold. Our best was April Fool's Day. You know the one I'm talking about."

"Our tango? How could I forget?" We're both laughing now. We're laughing so hard we end up just falling back on the floor of the tree house and just laugh. The memory isn't even that funny, but we keep laughing until our ribs are aching and tears are streaming down our face.

"Helga, I think about all the weird adventures that we had and I just miss you."

He and I are laying on our sides just looking at each other. Before I can stop myself I say, "I'm right here, Arnold. I always have been."

"You're right. It's so weird, how it's always been you and I. When we were kids, I used to dread it. But I always enjoyed it a little too. And now I just enjoy it. But I don't see you very often anymore. Except for in the one or two classes we have together."

I sit up, "You know what this reminiscing calls for, Football Head?"

He shakes his head and I stand up and walk to a cabinet and pull out a bottle of wine. "Helga, come on. We're not drinking that."

I give him a smile, one that's part challenge and part encouragement.

"I can't believe we drank that whoooole bottle." Arnold says leaning into me.

"Yeah, we were only suppose to have a glass each, but someone is a bit of a lush, Ar-nol-doh, and kept insisting on more."

He giggles, "I like wine, I guess."

"Arnold, why did you need to get out of your house tonight?" My mind has been desperately clinging to this question all night. It's one of the few sober thoughts I have left swirling around in my mind.

"Because of everything, Helga. Because my grandma's health is getting steadily worse and my grandpa is getting to old to help her. I had the possibility of going to Brown to study with some dude who's been on The Discovery Channel and has been to a lot of archaeological digs… but I had to pass it up to go to Hillwood University so I can live at home because I'm Arnold." Arnold spews out in a drunken rant. "And I saw all of these things happen to me and all I could think about is how successful you're going to be. Because you've had it right all along. Caring is for chumps."

I sigh, I don't recall ever having said those exact words, it had been the underlying message in some of my…bullying rants. "Arnold, I have several things to correct you about. But I'm not sure I can make those things into words. And if I can make them into words, then I still have to make sentences with those words and it just seems like a lot of work. So I'm just going to turn off this thing -" I tap on my head, "And just go with it. Are you ready?"

He nods eagerly.

"First of all, I'm not going to be successful. I don't believe in myself. Bob, Miriam and Olga have ensured through a childhood and adolescence of neglect that I'll never - hic - never have a good sense of self-esteem or self-worth. Second of all, that fact that you're a bleeding heart is going to be why you're successful and your grandparents need you. They were always there for you when you needed them. I know it isn't fair, but you know, Arnold, life isn't fair. If life was fair do you think we would be in a childhood tree house drinking wine illegally at the age of 18 only to discuss the things that we were trying to escape? Finally, and whatever number I on, I am a chump. Because I do care. I care about you." Too dizzy to sit up anymore, I just lay down.

Arnold lays down next to me, "Helga. Tell me a secret. I have always known you, since we were like babies. But I don't know anything about you."

I laugh, "I have so many secrets though, Arnold. Too many to choose from."

"Then tell them all!" He says excitedly.

Silence fills the room. There's a tiny sober Helga in my mind who's yelling at me to shut up and pretend to fall asleep, but she's mean. Arnold and these words are friendly. I just want to be with them. So I ignore tiny sober Helga. "You were my first date."

"No, Helga, this is Arnold. We never dated."

"You're right. But you were my first date."

"Helga, you're drunk." He chuckles.

I laugh back, "No, you moron. I'm Cecile. The other Cecile."

Arnold is silent. Tiny Sober Helga is hardcore praying that he's sleeping, but I just lay there in confusion.

"You're Cecile." He slurs. His words are soft, like baby llamas. Wait, no. Why am I thinking about llamas? Focus, Helga, focus.

"I'm Cecile." I say back, trying to match his tone.

He rolls so he's facing me and we're quiet for a minute. "That makes sense. Tell me another one."

Tiny Sober Helga face palms and starts yelling about this mess we're in. I shrug. "I found Mr. Huynh's daughter for Christmas."

"Christmas angel!" Arnold yells. "That's what Gerald and I called you. Well, not you you. Nice you. Why did you keep yourself a secret? You're so nice. I was right about you all along, Helga G. Pataki. This stuff all makes sense. The FTI roof, the Christmas Angel, Cecile, the poetry…"

Tiny Sober Helga gains control of my mouth for a moment. "The poetry?"

"Oops." Arnold chirps, "I wasn't going to tell you that."

"Tell me what?" I ask innocently.

Arnold looks at me, "The little pink book. I knew it was yours. I saw you carry around one just like it, afterwards. And I read the poem. The Helga one. I just figured it was a failed practical joke of yours. I never thought that you would write poetry about me, especially love poems because there's no way you could have loved me. That would be crazy."

I just stare at him, not knowing what to say. Tears fill my eyes. "Why is it so crazy? If I loved someone, why wouldn't they be you?"

"Whoa. Secret time just got sad. Why are you crying, Helga? This is secret time. Secret time has no tears, otherwise it would be called crying time."

"It's not like I'm incapable of love, Football Face!"

"Whoa, there, Helga, I never said you were. You just like hated me the most."

I roll over so I'm facing away from him, "I would leave, but I'm afraid to stand up. Also, if anyone should leave it should be you, since you're the one who invaded my Mighty Pete."

"Helga," Arnold snuggles up to me, so we're spooning. Even Tiny Sober Helga is swooning, "It's always been us. And now I know why. The world, for whatever reason, wants us to be together."

"Together?" I echo.

"Yeah, like friends."

"What if I don't want to be friends?"

Arnold is quiet for a minute, "Helga, I don't get you. Why wouldn't you want to be friends with me? I'm a good guy. I'm friendly. I'm a hardworker. I'm not as smart as you, or as clever, but I could legit contribute something to the friendship."

"I know that, dunce." I laugh. "God, you're dense."

"If you know that then why don't you want to be my friend?"

"You're too good to be my friend. I wouldn't want to take something so pure and ruin it." Tiny Sober Helga said that, not me. I'm begging to tell him that I don't want to be friends because I want to be more. But Tiny Sober Helga ain't having it.

Arnold wraps his arms around me, "You wouldn't ruin me."

Tiny Sober Helga is distracted now, and here's my chance, "I don't want to be friends because I want to be more." Tiny Sober Helga starts swearing and just lays down, giving up on the situation.

"I was hoping you would say that." I can't see him, but I can practically hear his smile. And I smile too, and snuggle into him. And we fall asleep.

I wake up to an obnoxious ringtone. What the heck happened? I feel like someone stole my body and used it to make terrible decisions. I feel an arm around me and sit up. It's Arnold. I shake him to wake him up. Desperately I'm searching my mind for memories. I just remember bits and pieces.

Arnold opens his eyes and looks around in confusion. Suddenly his eyes open wide and he bolts up. "Shit." He mutters. He begins feeling his pockets and looking around for his phone. He finally finds it and answers it, "Hi. Yeah, don't worry Gerald, I'm fine. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm going to head to the boarding house soon and let everyone know I'm okay." He looks at me, looking for answers, I shrug. "I know I shouldn't have disappeared last night, I just had to think. Yeah, man, it's a long story. But I ran into an old friend and spent the night with them." He rolls his eyes, "Not spent the night like that, Gerald."

I can hear Gerald say "Who is it?"

Arnold looks at me, "Helga."

I don't hear what Gerald says next, but I hear the surprise in his voice.

"I need to take care of some things, Gerald, I'll talk to you later." Arnold hangs up the phone and looks at the time. "It's noon already."

"Good thing it's a Saturday, I guess."

"Aren't your parents looking for you too?" Arnold stands up and begins straightening everything up.

I shrug and look at my phone. No missed calls, no text messages. "Nope. Probably haven't even realized I'm gone."

More memories of last night make themselves known until I remember everything while Arnold cleans.

"So, Football head, how much of last night do *you* remember?"

He shakes his head, "I haven't really been thinking about it. I just want to get home to help out, right now. I feel terrible for not being to help out with breakfast, I should at least make it back for lunch. I can try to figure out what happened later."

"Oh, okay." I stand up and almost fall back down.

"Are you okay?" Arnold asks, steadying me.

"Yeah, just tried to move too fast."

I kneel down and roll up the sleeping bag and put it in the cabinet. I gather my iPod and books and put them in my backpack.

"Helga," Arnold says.

"Yeah?" I try to get my tone as even as possible, but I'm not sure how well that works.

"I'm sorry for leaving so quickly, and not really discussing anything with you. But do you want to grab dinner tonight so we can discuss everything?"

I nod, "Uh, yeah, I guess that would be okay."

"Do you want me to walk you home?"

Shaking my head, I answer, "Nah, you got to get home and walking me would just take too long. Do you want me to pick you up at 7 for dinner?"

He laughs, "How about I pick you up at 7 for dinner?"

"Whatever floats your boat, Arnold. See you then." Arnold goes down the ladder and runs off towards the boarding house.

Meanwhile, I call Phoebe. "Hello."

"Phoebe, hi. Are you alone?"

"No, I'm with Gerald."
"Oh, so, you heard the phone call he had with Arnold?" I ask, knowing that Phoebe could only give me yes or no answers.

"That's correct."

"I am going to need some consultation soon. Preferably before *our* dinner tonight at seven. Is it possible for you to come over sometime before then?"

"I'll see what I can do and get back to you." Phoebe says.

I smile, "Thanks, you're the best."

"I know." She replies, "I'll talk to you later." and she hangs up.

I pack up all my things and go back to my house to prepare for tonight. And wow, there's a lot of preparation to do.