Author's Note: You know, it's funny, when I used to watch this show as a kid, my favorite character was Arnold, but now, as I've been re-watching episodes and writing all these fics, I can easily say Helga is my favorite by far. I get why Craig Bartlett loved writing for her so much. She really is an absolutely brilliant character. I still love Arnold too, though, of course. ;D
Disclaimer: Hey Arnold! © Craig Bartlett
No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, Helga couldn't stop herself from staring at the only empty desk in the room. Her gaze kept gravitating towards it against her will, as if in some wild, foolish hope that, maybe, if she stared at it long enough, he'd walk in and take his seat where he belonged. She'd insult him, he'd get annoyed with her, but he wouldn't say anything because he was too nice, too forgiving, and thus, status quo would be restored.
Sadly, however, this wasn't the case at all, and every time Helga looked at that empty desk, her face fell a little bit farther, and her heart sank a little bit lower. It was actually ironic, in a sad kind of way. She obsessed over him endlessly, to the point where she'd find herself so distracted by his presence she could barely concentrate while sitting in class, but who would've thought his absence would have the same, if not even more powerful effect on her?
Her infatuation truly had no bounds.
She was fully aware of this, always had been, in fact, and although she knew how absolutely pathetic it was to harbor such an unhealthy level of affection for a boy she so shrewdly pretended to despise, she never could bring herself to stop. And, until she'd someday work up the courage to tell him just how much she adored him with all her heart and soul, she was fine with worshipping him in secrecy.
Which was why, for the time being, she allowed her thoughts of him to roam freely, despite being filled with concern, from the moment Mr. Simmons announced the grim and downright devastating news that Arnold had come down with a bad case of the flu and wouldn't be in school today.
Sympathetic murmurs had rippled throughout the classroom, a chorus of worry led by Gerald, who'd vouched that Arnold hadn't looked too good to him when they'd hung out the day before. As for Helga, she'd merely clutched her hands to her chest as a suffocating wave of anguish crashed against her heart at the thought of Arnold falling so ill.
She spent the rest of the day in limbo, so consumed with her worrisome thoughts about her sweet, beloved Arnold to the point where she couldn't even muster up the strength to do so much as toss a fiery glare at anyone who happened to accidentally bump into her in the hallway, or take the last fruit cup at lunch, or do anything even remotely irritating that would normally get on her nerves.
When it came down to it, without Arnold around, nothing else seemed to matter.
And so, she decided the minute school was over, she'd rush to his house and sneak up to his roof to catch a glimpse of him through his bedroom windows, if only to make sure he was recuperating and sleeping soundly, so that she could finally put herself at ease. When the three o'clock bell rang, she hastily gathered up her things, ready to make a break for the door, but before she'd even gotten out of her seat, Mr. Simmons held up a hand.
"Class, before you all depart for the day, I need a volunteer to go to Arnold's house and deliver him today's homework assignments."
At that, Helga froze. An actual, legitimate reason to visit Arnold, and with a chance to go to his house to check on him, all without being a creepy stalker? It seemed too good to be true. If only she could figure out a way to seize the opportunity without actually having to volunteer to do it herself and risk all the questionable glances she'd undoubtedly receive from her idiotic classmates.
"I assume you'd like to do it, Gerald?" Mr. Simmons asked.
And, just like that, Helga's heart sank all over again. Of course it had been too good to be true. Such was her life.
"Actually," Gerald said, a regretful tone to his voice that had Helga perking up, "as much as I want to, I can't. I'm all booked up after school today. I hope Arnold'll understand."
"I'm sure he will. Nothing to worry about," Mr. Simmons said. His eyes scanned the classroom, until his gaze landed on none other than: "Helga. What about you?"
Helga's heart stopped beating for a second. "Me?" she asked with sudden breathlessness. This is your chance, Helga. Don't blow it. "Well, I…I guess I could. I mean, it's not like Arnold's house is too far away or anything, but…" She could feel herself losing her nerve, only for it to shatter completely as she crossed her arms and snapped, "Why would I want to waste my time going to that football head's house when I've got way more important things to do with my life?"
And, you blew it. Nice going, Helga.
"I see," Mr. Simmons said with a solemness to his voice, as if masking his underlying disappointment in her. "In that case, perhaps you, Lila, could—"
"Hold on a sec, teach," Helga said in a hurry, fueled by the spike of enraged heat she always felt at the mention of Lila's name. "I forgot that I have to…to…stop by Mr. Green's butcher shop to pick up some lamb chops for my mom. Yeah. And, you know, since Arnold's house happens to be on the same block, anyway, I guess I could swing by and drop off his dumb books for him, or whatever."
"Really?" Mr. Simmons said, and he smiled now. "All right, then. Thank you, Helga. I admire the fact that you're willing to do such a kind gesture for one of your classmates."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm a selfless person, I know," Helga said, bringing her books so tightly to her chest, she could feel her heart pounding against the cover of her geometry textbook.
"Well, in that case, you'll need Arnold's locker combination," Mr. Simmons said.
"I already know it," Helga said without thinking, only for her eyes to pop open as wide as they could possibly go. Mr. Simmons gave her a quizzical look, and some of the kids stared at her, too, their eyebrows scrunched suspiciously. Thinking fast, she gave their teacher a forceful grin as she said, "I mean. Yes. You're right. Thanks."
Mr. Simmons stared at her for what felt like a far too long and tense moment, but thankfully, the doubtful look on his face went away as he turned from her and headed to his desk. Helga welcomed the relieved drop of her shoulders as she sighed deeply. That was a close one. She seemed to be making those embarrassing slip-ups more and more lately. Granted, it was usually pretty easy for her to cover them up, but the worst, of course, was when they happened in front of Arnold.
And now, she'd be going to his house, to visit him while he lay in his bed, sick as a dog. Who knew what kind of intimate secrets would spew out of her mouth if she stayed too long? The thought alone brought a crippling sense of alarm upon her. Clearly, this wasn't one of her brightest ideas. She realized the only way to avoid making any sort of humiliating confessions whatsoever would be to simply drop off Arnold's things and get out of there without actually going up to his room to see him. It was decided, then. That was the new plan, and she was going to stick to it, even if it killed her.
Remember, whatever you do, do not go up to his room.
She reminded herself of this extremely crucial detail the entire way to Arnold's house, even as she knocked on the front door of the boarding house. Almost instantly, Arnold's grandpa answered, and he put a hand to his bony hip.
"Well, now, look who it is," he said, cocking an amused grin. "You're Arnold's little classmate, aren't you? Came by to drop off his schoolwork, is that right? Well, Short Man's asleep in his room, so you can go ahead and bring his books up to him."
"Thanks," Helga said, walking in.
Okay, so she was weak. Truly, embarrassingly weak. At least she could admit it. She still had enough self-control to restrain himself from spending no more than a few minutes tops in his house. That was all she really needed, anyway. She'd leave his homework on his desk, watch him sleep for a minute or two—in a totally non-creepy way, of course—and be on her way. The best part was that she could do it all without Arnold ever having to know she'd stopped by. It was perfect.
Of course, in retrospect, she should've known better. After all, when did anything ever go according to plan for Helga G. Pataki?
Clutching his books in one hand, she grasped his doorknob with the other. As she twisted it open, it occurred to her that this would, in fact, be the first time she'd actually entered Arnold's room through the door like a normal person, as opposed to sneaking in through one of his windows, or crawling through a vent, or hiding inside his closet, or, her personal favorite, inside the wall behind his couch.
Boy, I really am sick, aren't I?
She didn't have time to dwell on that sickness, for the second she poked her head into Arnold's room and saw him lying in his bed, all else was forgotten. If there were any last remaining doubts about the severity of his illness, they were entirely gone now. He was indeed asleep, although he hardly looked peaceful at all, his unnaturally flushed face pinched in discomfort as he lay there in a restless slumber.
Driven by the rush of heartache over seeing her darling Arnold in such a state of affliction, Helga walked up to him, gently dropping his books to the ground when she reached his bed. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and stared at him in silent vigilance. Her heart throbbed with both pity and wonder, as she wasn't used to admiring him so up close like this, yet, at the same time, she hated seeing him in such an ailing condition.
If only I could find a way to soothe you, even with nothing more than a simple touch…
With that thought consuming her mind and taking over her limbs, before she could even realize the risk of what she was about to do, her hand reached out of its own accord, and she cupped her palm against Arnold's forehead. His skin was hot to the touch, burning beneath her fingertips, as if desperately beckoning her to bring him a cooling sense of relief.
With a gentleness she never knew she possessed, Helga let her fingers graze his overheated skin, brushing aside his soft, golden tufts of hair along the way. He drew in a breath, and she immediately retracted her hand, fearfully waiting, with bated breath, for him to wake up. He exhaled, but otherwise didn't stir, and finally she brought her hand back down, this time to touch his cheek.
She was very much aware of the dangers behind her actions, knowing he could easily wake up at any given moment, but even with that knowledge, she couldn't bring herself to stop what she was doing. Maybe she was a thrill-seeker. Maybe it was worth the risk. Whatever the case, she softly stroked his cheek, all the while studying his features, particularly his pale, parted lips, trying to memorize every inch of his scorching skin.
Arnold stirred suddenly, and Helga's worst nightmare became a reality when he opened his eyes. Her heart hammered in her chest, and yet she found herself frozen, staring down at him, with her hand resting against his cheek. He stared up at her in a groggy, half-conscious daze, eyes glazed but otherwise unreadable. Her breath got stuck in her throat as reality hit her with the weight of an eighteen-wheeler, and her overwhelming sense of dread only intensified when Arnold opened his mouth to speak, his voice a raspy, confused whisper:
"…Helga?"
Well. It was going to be a lot harder to cover this one up, that was for sure.
Her face splitting with a nervous grin, Helga removed her hand from his face and let out a shaky laugh, wiggling her fingers at him.
"Just checking your vital signs," she said, and mentally slapped a hand to her forehead. Oh, brother, that was brilliant, her subconscious scorned. Like he's really gonna fall for that one. You're a goner, Helga.
"What are you…doing here?" Arnold asked, sounding really out of it, his voice thick with congestion. He brought up a hand and coughed into it.
Helga felt a pang in her chest over how awful he sounded, even worse than he looked. Inadvertently, she found her usual anger softening as she threw up her hands, more out of desperation than anything else.
"What do you think I'm doing here? I came to drop off your homework, doi," she said, in a much more defensive tone than necessary, only to put her hands on her hips and smirk slightly. "And here I thought you were faking, but sheesh, now I can't help feeling a little sorry for ya. Anyway, I'm sure you want me to get out of your hair so you can go back to sleep, so I'll just be on my way now. Take it easy, Arnoldo."
She turned her back to him and headed for the door, even though she wanted nothing more than to stay a little while longer, to be alone with him and comfort him in any way she possibly could, but she knew there was no point. After all, she was Helga, rude and bossy and callous, or, at least, that was the girl everyone knew her as.
She'd reached the door, about to shut it behind her, when the sound of Arnold's weak voice brought her to a stop.
"You actually…did something nice like that…for me?"
Her eyes widened, and she turned around to see Arnold staring at her with that half-lidded gaze of his, a hint of a tender smile on his face. It sent her heart in a frenzy, and brought an eruption of butterflies to her stomach. Her feelings overpowering her, she brought a hand to her arm and rubbed it up and down, looking away in embarrassment.
"Well, yeah, I guess, if you want to think of it that way, but…but don't go getting the wrong idea, okay? I mean, it's not like I wanted to come here," she said, a blatant lie, but he didn't need to know that. "After your so-called best friend, Geraldo, went and bailed on you, Mr. Simmons pretty much forced me into coming here instead, so what other choice did I have? I definitely wasn't worried about you or anything."
Oh, criminy, why did I just say that? What is wrong with me? Get it together, Helga!
Despite her state of inner-panic, she looked back at Arnold, only to see him smiling even more. There was a gentle playfulness to the way he was looking at her, as if he knew the truth himself, that she had, indeed, been worrying about him all day long, because she cared about him more than he'd ever know. Regardless, seeing that adorable little smile on his face managed to send Helga's wildly beating heart over the edge. This time, though, she controlled herself enough to not have another gushy outburst, and she purposely reeled in her shock by putting on her usual display of annoyance.
"What in the heck are you smiling about?"
"Nothing," Arnold said, his smile never faltering. "Just… Thanks for bringing me my books. That was really sweet of you."
Taken aback by his lighthearted tone, Helga simply blinked, and now, she found herself unable to draw up even the slightest bit of harshness to her voice.
"Yeah, yeah… You're welcome," she said, falling uncomfortably silent for a second, when finally, she shook herself out of it and managed more of a spark. "Now, go back to sleep, would ya? That fever has got you acting all loopy. And try not to die while you're at it, too, okay?"
"Okay, Helga," Arnold said, shutting his eyes.
She stood there for a moment, a soft smile of her own involuntarily spreading over her face, one that stayed intact even as she left, while Arnold drifted off into a much more relaxed and contented slumber.