She fiddled with the locket. It was rusty and worn and the gold paint had long since faded. The glass inside was cracked but she couldn't remember exactly when that happened. It obscured the picture inside. She laughed and went to throw it into the hefty bag lying next to her but found that she couldn't.

"Helga?"

"In here Feebs." Helga pocketed the small piece of jewelry.

In the doorway to her old bedroom stood her best friend of thirteen years. Phoebe had long since ditched the glasses and replaced them with lasik surgery. Her long black hair was pleated neatly in a French braid to the side. It spilled onto her oversized denim shirt. She wore leggings with her feet bare against the wooden floor.

" I finished cleaning out Olga's room. You sure I can have it? It's much larger than all the others and this is your house now…"

"It's fine Feebs, I want ya ta have it." Helga shrugged, continuing to dig through the box labeled "Helga's Crap". It was filled with mostly old journals and chackis she never had the chance to take with her nine years ago.

Phoebe looked on silently as Helga pulled things out of the box and into the trash bag. The Japanese girl sighed and walked over to Helga, taking a seat on the floor next to her.

"I missed you Helga G. Pataki." Phoebe bumped her shoulders against Helga's.

"I missed you Phoebe Heyerdahl." Helga responded by throwing a light punch at the girl's arm. "But you didn't hear me say that so forget it."

"Forgetting." Phoebe chimed. She sat silently next to Helga, helping her sift through the box. Most things went directly into the trash bag. It wasn't until they'd come upon an old picture frame that they stopped.

Inside a pink carriage was a tiny baby Helga. Her mother, father, and sister all stood around the carriage smiling in various degrees of indifference. Phoebe looked over at Helga as she clutched at the tacky bronze. "Helga? Are you okay?"

" See that spot right there?" Helga abruptly blurted out, looking over at the far side of the room. " Remember the countless nights we'd stay up listening to Ronnie Matthews even after we found out what a fake he was? Or over there? That weird stain? That was from the purple dye I used to ruin Olga's prom dress. Which, by the way, won the bitch's crown that night."

Phoebe bit her lip, eyeing Helga and getting a really good look at her since picking her up at the train station. Helga's skin was paler than she remembered it but took into account that she'd only see her during summers. Her curly blonde hair was also a lighter color than when she was younger and fell down her back just above her waist. She wore a plaid shirt two sizes too big over a faded pink tank top with the most torn up jeans Phoebe had ever seen in her life; she'd been placing mental bets on when they would unravel all week.

"I guess there are a lot of good memories here."

"Yeah, and besides, I know you're probably tired of your parents ridin' ya for droppin' med school and still datin' a colored boy."

"Helga!"

"Relax." Helga smiled, letting Phoebe know she was only kidding. She didn't want to be there. Not now, not ever but she was a twenty-three year old jobless college drop-out with no aspirations other than getting her hands on an ice-cold beer. "Come on Feebs, whaddya say? It'll be like old times."

"Well it will be nice to have a place Gerald and I could convene without an ever-looming presence."

"And by convene you mean fuck."

"Helga…" but Phoebe's cheeks were red and Helga knew she'd hit the nail on the head.

"Hey, long as you put a sock on the door."

"Yo Arnold! What say we hit Stinky's for some beers? My treat."

"Seriously?" Arnold looked down from his spot on the stepladder. He'd been replacing a light bulb when Gerald walked into the kitchen. " You're actually opting to pay for something?"

"Yeah man, can't a dude buy his best friend of twenty odd years a drink?"

Arnold snorted. "What'd you do this time? Indirectly insult Phoebe's mom's cat?"

"No!"

Arnold gave Gerald a skeptical look before twisting the bulb one last time. All throughout the boarding house bulbs had been burning out due to recent power surges and all he could do was head over to the hardware store and restock.

"Phoebe's there with someone from our past."

"Oh? Who would that be?" Arnold asked after stepping down from the ladder and folding it. He tucked it between the sink and cabinet before turning to face Gerald.

"Guess."

"Sid?"

"What? No. You know he got three more years left before they even consider parole."

"Oh yeah…" Arnold scratched his head, remembering that he'd left his hat in the living room. "Rhonda?"

"Now you know that girl is in France for fashion week. She wouldn't stop talking about it the last two months."

"Okay then who?

""I'll give ya a hint. What's pink, has a only one eyebrow, and totally wants you."

Arnold paused, taking a moment to put the clues together.

"Helga Pataki?"

"Bingo. Word is, she's movin' into her old place. Dad left it in the will."

"Bob's dead? That's crazy. "

"Alcohol can do some pretty messed up things man."

"Wow, didn't her mom…"

"Yup."

Arnold watched Gerald shake his head and lean against the dining table. He thought back to the last time he'd seen Helga in Hillwood. It was four summers ago and he'd just enter his third year at Seattle U. The memory a bittersweet one but he smiled and said, "We should probably say hi."

"Already got that covered." Gerald produced car keys from his back pocket and jingled them in the air.

"But I look like trash right now. Gimmie a minute."

"Arnold, that girl used to collect the gum that came out yo mouth, you really think she cares if ya white tee got some stains on it?"

"Shut up." Arnold swings in Gerald's general direction but misses and uses the momentum to continue out the kitchen and into the living room for his hat. It's a dusty blue truckers hat he'd gotten at his first job as a bus boy but just like his old baseball cap, it was a part of him. Then, bounding the steps two at a time, goes up the stairs into his bedroom. He doesn't spend much time though, opting for just another white tee. He looks over at his mirror. Wiping his jeans of imaginary dirt, he heads back downstairs to meet Gerald outside.

"Ay papi, lookin' good." Gerald hollers in a very bad falsetto.

"Whatever man. It's not like…"

"It's not like you aren't in love with her and have been since she left Hillwood and will finally get a chance to confess your feelings for her after so many years apart then make sweet, sweet, unibrow love."

"Why are we friends again?"

"You needed cool points and I felt bad for your sorry ass."

"So Stinky owns this place? Not bad. Not bad at all."

Helga and Phoebe sat in the very center of the bar, on the dark green stools that matched the dark green walls. The place was packed despite it only being a Tuesday night. There were a lot of faces swimming around that Helga felt she recognized but didn't want to take the time to figure out. There was music playing out of speakers setup all around but were drowned out by the tv sets showcasing sporting events. The lighting was dim and murky, as if there were a permanent smoke cloud present.

"Indeed. He won it during a game of poker three years ago but it was a total dump. He put in some hard work and ended up with what you see before you now." Phoebe raised her martini glass, watching for spills as the pink liquid sloshed inside. "To new beginnings?"

Helga searched Phoebe's expression for some unfound mystery. "Ah, what the heck." She raised her beer and clinked it against Phoebe's glass. The two girls shared a smile, each taking a sip.

This was the first time in months Helga had allowed herself to drink. Not that she was some sort of recovering alcoholic but drinking seemed something she held little control over the older she got. Thanks Miriam. She thought bitterly as she savored the amber liquid. She sloshed it around in her mouth like Listerine before actually swallowing it.

The last time she'd partaken of a beer in Hillwood was four years ago and she prayed the events of that night not repeat themselves.

"Ladies, the great and wonderful Gerald has arrived." An arm snaked its way around Helga's and Phoebe's shoulder as the aforementioned male snuck in between them.

"Nice to see you haven't lost those delusions of grandeur Geraldo." Helga pushed off the offending arm and looked at the man in front of her.

From fourth grade to about sophomore year of high school, Gerald remained the same height. Then in the summer before junior, shot up to six foot three and stayed there. The following years of basketball and track toned his body into the athletic mold and while he had gotten taller, his hair got shorter. It was now low-cut with two swoops buzz-cut in on the left. He wore a red sweater with grey jeans and red chucks. He refused to wear any other shoe.

"Nice to see you've learned to tweeze that eyebrow of yours."

"Lay off Gerald, Helga has always looked good." Came a voice from behind Gerald. It was relaxed but stern and oh-so familiar. It could only belong to the boy whose picture Helga still had in her pocket.

"I was just messin'." Gerald smiled, stepping aside and letting Arnold step into the circle. He had one hand in his jean pocket and the other scratching the back of his head in a nervous habit.

"Hey Helga."

Her mouth was cotton. Dry as a desert. Avoid of moisture completely. She could not have said anything whatsoever in response to Arnold other than staring with her mouth wide open.

"What a crazy random happenstance! Arnold, Gerald, would you care to join us?" Phoebe's soft voice cut the tension between the blondes. Arnold chuckled a bit and Helga sent her death glares.

"Yeah, why don't we get a table. Where's Stinky?"

"I think tonight's his night off."

"Night off? Phoebe, he lives above the bar, how far is he gonna go?"

"You make a valid observation dear."

"Don't I always?"

"Oy, lovebirds, we gettin' a table or we standin' around with beer bottles up our asses?"

"Oh, well. Our table should still be free."

"Lead the way Feebs." Helga latched onto the smaller girl's arm, dragging her out of earshot of the boys. "You sneaky bitch, you planned this all along. I already told you, I don't want to deal with people right now."

"It's Gerald and Arnold, not people."

"Very funny. I can't believe you did this to me!"

"Oh calm down Pataki, it's just a casual get together amongst old friends wanting to catch up."

"Yeah, well the last time I needed to catch up…"

"I know Helga but this is very different from then." Phoebe sighed. She adjusted her arm so that Helga could hold it instead of yank and led the way to the quieter section of the bar where there were less tvs and more tables. In the far right was an empty booth. Zeroing in on it, Phoebe was the first to slide in, then Helga. Arnold and Gerald came in a little later and slid across from them, both with a beer in hand.

"So, Baby, you officially moving into Helga's place?"

"Yes. We've spent all day cleaning. Isn't that right Helga?"

Helga burped as way of response, not actually caring how offensive it may have been.

"Good one Helga." Arnold remarked. He smiled a genuine smile, which only proved to make her feel sick. The best she could give him was a small grimace.

All I wanted was a cold beer, was that too much to ask for? There is shit in my beer now, actually bits of turd ruining the delicious gold that is this Budwiser and now I'm stuck with two conniving bimbos and Arnold. I know I've done things in the past, I do but do I honestly deserve this? I'll atone for my sins any other way, just please, please, let this night end with my clothes still…

"Helga!" Phoebe's shrill voice pierced her thoughts. She looked at the girl beside her, not understanding that she'd just been asked several questions and yet to answer any.

"Must've spaced out, sorry. Kinda worn out y'know?" The heads around the table nodded in placid sympathy.

"'I was just telling Arnold here how you're thinking of renovating the house and he offered his assistance."

"Yeah, I…uh….I've picked up a couple tricks over the many years living at the boarding house."

"Oh, that uh…" Helga avoided making eye contact with Arnold and took a swig of beer. " Thanks, I'll….let you know." She focused on her almost empty bottle and thought briefly how perfect an excuse to get up and away from the table.

"So Helga, any plans now that you're back in Hillwood?" Gerald asked, attempting to diffuse the static in the air. He was only here as a favor to Phoebe who begged and pleaded weeks before to help make Helga feel welcomed. It wasn't that he didn't care about her but he and Helga never really interacted unless through his girlfriend or Arnold.

"Know where I can get a job?"

"A couple actually. Looking for anything in particular?"

"I ain't picky. Long as it ain't hookin'." She took another swig. What's a good excuse to leave right now? Diarrhea? Dysentery? Malaria?

"Well, if it ain't Helga G. Pataki in my place of establishment. I reckon I haven't seen you in damn near ten years." Five feet away from their table stood a tall and lanky man with hair combed back, a white apron over his t-shirt and jeans, and a familiar non-descript accent.

"Looks like it's one big freaggin' reunion….yayy." Helga grumbled, sucking the last bits of foam from the bottom of her beer bottle.

"Well hello there Phoebe, Gerald, and hey, is that you Arnold? I haven't seen you either. It's like ya been hidin' from me."

"Hi Stinky, how's it going?" Arnold asked politely.

"It's goin' quite nicely Arnold. Can I get y'all anythin'? More beer perhaps?"

" Bring us a whole round Stinky my man." Gerald gestured with his now empty beer bottle.

"Right on it. An' Phoebe, should I add in your usual?"

"Yes please."

"Be right back." Stinky wiped his hands on his apron and walked away towards a door not too far from the table.

"So he still talks like that? I thought he went to New York and lost it." Helga mused out loud, looking to where Stinky disappeared.

" He did but then he came back, moved in with his dad and picked it right back up." Arnold answered.

He couldn't keep his eyes off Helga, even if it seemed like she didn't want to look at him. She kept turning her head away from him, giving him a perfect view of her ears. He counted three piercings on either lobe, matching helixes, and an industrial on her left.

"Well, some things just won't change huh Football Head?" Helga realized what she said after she caught Arnold smiling again.

"I guess, it's not all bad though."

Helga shrugged, not wanting to continue the conversation. She shot Phoebe a look that pleaded for help and was rewarded with the following.

"Gerald, let's get some food. I'm starving."

"Of course Boo." Gerald stood up from the booth, waiting for his girlfriend to follow. Helga looked at Phoebe and sent her the meanest death glares that she could muster but years of friendship had made Phoebe immune.

"Would you excuse me Helga? "

"You're excused." Helga ground out, stepping out of the booth to give the smaller girl room to leave.

"We'll be right back. You want anything?"

"Since you are paying, I want anything that used to be alive covered in hot sauce."

"Arnold?"

"Actually, I'm good. But thank you Phoebe."

"Okay. We'll be back soon." Phoebe slipped her arm into Gerald's and the two casually walked away.

Criminey, it's like this is all some fucking joke to her. Yeah, well the joke's on you Feebs, I can totally handle myself. And I won't so much as break a sweat.

"So are you back for good or…"

"Uh…"

"Sorry if I'm being intrusive."

"Not at all…I uh….I don't know. But I can't go anywhere else at the moment so I guess I'm back for a while."

"Good…that you're sticking around, not good that you have anywhere else to go."

Helga shrugged once more, this time giving Arnold a precursory glance. His hair was messy, peeking out from underneath his dusty Al's Repair hat but shiny like he'd just wash it today. He wore a white tee with a beat up denim jacket that had a very noticeable hole in the only existing breast pocket. She smiled a little, remembering how Arnold clung to clothes like a newborn to his mother.

"What're you doing with yourself Arnold? Thought you'd be a civil rights activist or a at least one of those liberals occupying something."

"Well, you know. Life. Or rather death. Grandma died, then a week later, so did Grandpa. They left the boarding house in my name and my dreams of being the next Ghandi went sailing out the kitchen window. Which needs a new screen incidentally enough."

"I'll drink to that." Helga raised her bottle but remembered it was empty so she brought it back down. "Sorry to hear that, about your grandparents, they were really…"

"Old?" Arnold laughed, "Grandma was wind-surfing in a tutu and had just landed ashore when her heart failed. She sang the entire first verse of "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" before she flat-lined. And grandpa died sitting in his favorite chair at home with a picture of grandma in his hands. He was smiling."

"Lucky."

"Yeah." He smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in memory of his dearly departed grandparents. "I…uh…heard about Bob."

"Oh yeah. Out like a light that one." Please don't give me your sympathy Arnold, I don't need your heart bleeding on me like….

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's…whatever. He drank himself silly. Serves him right." Helga snorted, wanting nothing more than to hock a loogie at the mention of her deceased father but chose to steer things away. "He left me the house and some random properties back in Portland. Sold those out soon as I got 'em and well I'm here. Fixin' up the old place."

"Good." Arnold nodded. He had nothing else to say. He knew Helga was deflecting. "So, uh…do you still write? I heard from Phoebe a while back you got published…."

"Yeah. It was a blip in some literary junk from California."

"Still a publication."

"I suppose. You?"

"I…well I haven't had any work published but I did get a spot on the front page of Times."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I got the city to stop the demolition of PS118."

"Oh yeah, Feebs told me about that a while back. Wasn't it a health hazard?"

"There was asbestos in the auditorium which could be removed safely but the city wanted to just condemn the entire building."

"Was it cheaper? I bet it was cheaper to just blow it up."

"It was." Arnold sighed.

"There it is. Classic Arnold. Always fighting for the little guy."

"Someone's gotta root for the underdog."

"Arnold, you are the underdog." Helga snorted.

"I'm okay with that." Arnold smiles, going for his beer that he hadn't touch yet. He stares at it for a moment, then slides it across the table.

"Yeah? You tryna liquor me up Shortman?"

"And if I said yes?"

"I'd say you might be looking for a repeat of four years ago."

"Oh! God no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…It's not at all…"

"Relax." Helga holds up her hand. "It was a joke."

Helga reaches for the beer, taking it and using the end of her shirt to pop the cap. She looks up at Arnold, trying to catch his eye but he was too busy looking somewhere not in her direction. She sighs loudly, and begins chugging the beer as fast as humanly possible.

"Uhh…"

Helga holds up a finger to pause any of Arnold's protests. It takes her another five seconds to finish the beer and slams the bottle down.

"There. That's going to be the last awkward moment for tonight or so help me, I will be giving you two shiners and a broken arm."

"Fine by me." Arnold chuckled.

"Where'd everybody go?" Stinky had appeared once more unnoticed, placing a tray filled with drinks onto the table.

"Grabbin' some grub." Helga's hand shot out for the nearest beer bottle, uncapping it like the previous one. She went to chug this one as well but a voice that sounded a lot like Phoebe's whispered in the back of her head. Pace yourself Helga. So she only took a sip and brought it down.

"Well, that's alright. Let me know if'n ya need anythin' else ya heard?"

"Thanks Stinky."

"Ya welcomed Arnold. But before I go, Helga if I may?"

Helga looked over at the beak nosed burnette, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm hoping ya don't mind me sayin' but you're looking rather lovely tonight. Now don't go thinkin' on account of me lookin' for tips or nothin' cuz it ain't like that. I just want ta let ya know, I hardly recognize ya since last I saw you and must say, you look mighty purtty."

Helga was glad she hadn't been drinking during any of that because she'd have spit it all out onto the table and possibly Arnold. She searched her brain for the appropiate response until she came up with.

"Thanks Stinky? Uh… You're not too bad yourself?" She smiled crookedly, attempting a somewhat familiar expression.

"No, thank you. If ya need anythin', just holler." Stinky winked, turning and walking away with a little more pep in his step than before.

"I think he likes you."

"Shut up."

Arnold laughed. Watching the exchange had been like watching a strange interaction between a goat and a crocodile. Was it to be eaten or would the croc just ignore it?

"Aw come on, Stinky's a sweet guy."

"Stinky is the name of a pet animal with a flatulence problem, not a perspective date. Besides, not interested."

"Good."

"What?"

"I meant…"

"I told you they'd get along just fine, not a spot of blood anywhere."

"Of course dear, it was silly of me to have worried."

"I officially hate you."

"Why?"

"Why? Why? Really Feebs, why?!"

"You can't tell me you didn't have a nice time."

"Nice? Nice? I didn't have a nice time Phoebe, I had a goddamn awful, knock-out, down for the count…"

"Great time."

"After like five beers."

"So five's the lucky number." With one hand still on the wheel, Phoebe pulled out her Iphone to type the information into her memo pad.

"Forget it Phoebe."

"Forgetting." She chimed while erasing the data. "Helga, you laughed, a lot. You laughed at Gerald's jokes and Arnold's jokes and even Stinky's jokes."

"Listen, that one about the goat was hilarious. He should trademark it and sell it."

"So there, aren't you glad I forced you to hang out?" Phoebe slid her phone back into her pocket and replaced her hand on the wheel. It was three am according to the dashboard clock and they were heading back home.

"Mhhhhrmph" Helga grunted.

"I'm sorry what was that?"

"I said, yeahokayiguess"

"See." Phoebe smiled, bringing her eyes back onto the road. The streets were pretty empty, only one or two cars here and there.

"Thanks Phoebe."

"You're welcomed Helga."

She stared out the windshield, looking out at the empty road ahead. In about an intersection and two left turns they'd be home.

This isn't Portland, it's not the Sunnyside Apartment Complex on Broad st, it's not a two-bedroom crap hole with hippies walking around asking me for donations to save-a-tree foundation. It's Hillwood.

"I thought I'd never see you this happy again."

Helga looked at her friend. In the dim lighting, Phoebe looked ten times smaller. Her black hair had become undone and was floating around in the soft breeze supplied by the opened window. She was smiling but there was sadness in her eyes that told her she couldn't fully enjoy the moment. Helga was sure she could count the tears forming in her eyes.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't cry Phoebe. There's nothing left to cry about."

"Helga, you have yet to deal with this properly and I think you…"

"Think nothing about it! There is nothing to think or cry or talk about. Let it go Feebs."

"Helga…"

"Helga nothing. I'm tired Feebs, you're tired. We have a big empty house to start filling up and that's gonna take time and money so let's focus on that and not the past. Not on something that can neither be fixed nor dealt with anymore than it has already. I've let go; you should too."

"But they were your parents." Phoebe choked out. There were tears rolling down her face now. She put the car in park, having found a spot directly in front of the house but still clutched at the steering wheel.

"They're better parents dead then when they were alive!" Helga screamed, causing Phoebe to openly weep. " I am not talking about this anymore Phoebe! Let's get inside and into bed and NEVER speak of this again!"

"You cant just BURY IT like you buried your father Helga! You and I NEVER dealt with finding your mother's body! Don't you know I've been using the spare in Olga's room this entire time!? I can't go into the bathroom without seeing her body there!"

"She was MY mother Phoebe, MY mother and she fucking KILLED herself because she was UNHAPPY! We are not involved in any way other than we're the ones who found the body, GET OVER IT!"

"But how can anyone get over something like that?! We were FOURTEEN HELGA!"

"And now we're twenty-three. Cross that fucking bridge already!"

Helga clamped down, turning in her seat but not making a single move to get out the car. At some point during the yelling, Phoebe had finally let of the wheel but she too made no move to leave the car either.

"It's not…it's not about a bridge Helga. It's about being okay with what happened."

"I am okay."

"That's what you said…"

"Shut up Feebs."

Helga opened the car door and got out of the parked vehicle. She made sure to slam the door behind her before she made her way to the front steps of the house. Not once did she bother to check if Phoebe had followed behind.

AN: This is being written as a present for my wonderful girlfriend who shares my love of the couple that never was. I hope to gain criticism and insight from others that read this to help me make it a great fanfic for my lovely lady.