~*Hi again! Yep it's another HA fanfic! Don't you just NEED to read another one? Well if you do, here it is. Read and enjoy! -Risma *~
Disclaimer: Yet again I don't own Hey Arnold! Nor any of his friends. I just write/type these things for fun, not money. So don't waste your time trying to wheedle me out of my last three dollars.
Why Me?
Chapter One: So . . . What's in the Box?
The sun stretched its long fingers across the horizon and slowly poked its head up to smile on the waking city. The birds spread their wings to soak in the warmth and burst into sweet song. It was going to be a peace filled-
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!"
A few blocks away a car alarm started wailing and this caused the neighbourhood dogs howling. Morning was officially broken.
Helga rushed down the stairs shaking her head with disbelief. "Mum! MUM! MI-RI-UM!!"
"In here sweetie," strained a sorrowful voice.
Helga flew in to the kitchen and screeched to a halt. Smoothing out her dress and her flustered nerves she approached her mother, who was dangerously balancing on a stool which happened to be propped up on its two front legs. She was frowning into the cupboard and shifting bottles around on the top shelf.
Helga looked up at her and tried to appear calm. "Uh . . . Mum you haven't by any chance . . . thrown out some meaningless junk . . . that had found its way to the back of my wardrobe again?" she innocently asked.
Mirium stopped searching and turned to stare blankly down at her daughter. Her eyes lit up as she slowly remembered and smiled. "Come to think of it, honey, I did throw out the mess in your room." She droned, reaching back into the cupboard. "Ah there it is."
Mirium reached across the shelf and picked up a bottle of tobassco sauce, as the stool slammed back down onto its four legs.
"You did WHAT?!" she screeched.
"It needed a clean. Helga hold this." Ignoring her panicky daughter, she handed Helga the bottle as she climbed off the stool. Helga started madly pacing back and forth across the kitchen waving her hands around as she mumbled to herself. "Honey can you get some bananas from the fridge?"
Helga firmly set the bottle on the bench and opened the fridge. A bunch of ripe bananas were sitting right in front of her. Instinctively she remembered her statue she had created of her love, with fresh fruit.
"Did you know there was rotting fruit in your room?" she mother asked from the sink.
Well they were fresh at the time.
"Uh . . . no," she lied handing the bananas over. Helga lifted herself up onto the nearby bench and sat there quietly while her mum peeled the fruit and dumped them in the food processor along with the sauce. Suddenly one very important thought ran through Helga's mind.
"Mirium while you cleaning out my junk . . . which you did so profoundly well I might add . . . did you accidentally come across some pink books, whicharenotatallimportanttome?" she winced.
Mirium put the lid on the processor and pressed down tight then glanced over her shoulder at her fidgeting daughter. "Ah yes I did, uh huh," she absently mentioned before she pressed the puree button and stood slightly back.
After a few seconds the whirring died down and seizing her chance, Helga moved a little closer to Mirium and started to swing her legs in a carefree state. "So . . . what did you do with them?"
"Well I put them in a box and left it at the bottom of the stairs," she smiled, pouring her smoothie into a tall glass.
"Thanks!" She jumped down from the bench and zoomed through the living room to the stairs.
Yes! She didn't throw them out. No one will read the poems from my tortured soul to the boy I love. No one will read about the vulnerable romantic side of this perhaps intimidating girl. No one will . . .
She stopped and her mouth dropped open. Bob was tearing at the tape on top of the box.
NOOOO!!!
She slumped against a wall and watched as her father was about to discover her secrets. Helga folded her arm and closed her eyes, thinking of what to say when he asked about a certain golden headed angel.
"MIRIUM! I thought I told you to mail this box of beepers," he bellowed.
Helga's eyes flew open and she stared with surprise and joy that he didn't see her poems.
"I did Bob," came a melancholy voice from across the house.
Bob bent down and pulled out a few of the merchandise and stormed into the kitchen. "Then what are these?"
Helga walked over to the box and checked that they were actually beepers. She smiled with satisfaction.
"I'm sure I did," Mirium queried her thoughts as she followed Bob to the stairs and he pointed to the box. She bent down to examine it and Helga stood up and moved out of the way. After shifting some of the beepers to see the bottom of the box, she realised the mistake she made. "Oooh. Oops, I remember. I must've stuck the address sticker on the wrong box and mailed the wrong one."
SLAM!
Helga's whole nervous system shut down. She just stood there, not moving at all, except for the occasional blink.
"You did WHAT?! Geez Mirium! Can't you even mail a simple box of beepers! Do you know how much this deal cost me? No of course not! This box was supposed to go to that Smith Corporation! Now it's probably going to be in all the papers that . . ."
Helga could only hear mumbling as she fell to her knees on the floor. The room started to spin and her parent's images faded out of her vision. Blackness engulfed her as she passed out.
*******
"Helga. Helga. C'mon honey wake up."
"Arn . . . MUM!" Her eyes flew open and she quickly sat up on the couch. Only to find out, she was still dizzy and held her head with her hands. "Whoa . . ."
"You'd better lie down just until you feel a bit better," her mother smiled as she dabbed Helga's head with a damp cloth. Mirium had been acting more like a mother since she'd taken over Bob's job for a while. For once she had a loving, caring parent who actually took notice of her younger daughter, even if she was a little forgetful.
"The box! My books!" She yelled with panic. Her mum bit her bottom lip and gazed at the back of the couch.
"Well . . . maybe they'll give them back . . . eventually. But don't worry honey. I'll personally buy you some new ones," She smiled reassuringly down at Helga. Mirium picked up the damp cloth off the ground and patted Helga's knee. "Rest for a while, alright?"
This was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment. But why distress her mum about it. "Alright. I will." She closed her eyes and rolled onto her side. After all she now had to come up with a plan to get all her books back before anyone read them. Especially anyone from PS118.
*******
A few hours later, Helga was walking to the centre of the city when she came to a tall skyscraper.
"Well this is it. Wonder if they'll listen to a nine year old?" Taking one deep breath she clicked into her stubborn attitude and strode up the stairs. Her shoes squeaked on the polished floor and she couldn't help but look up to see how far the marble walls reached. With her nose still up in the air, she bumped into the front desk. A lady with and olive complexion and dark curly hair peered through her glasses at Helga. "Can I help you?"
Helga noticed the red business suit and gold jewellery, causing her to smirk.
Push over material.
"Ah yes. Could you tell me where the storage area is?"
"That information is classified," The lady replied dully as she continued with her work.
"What? Look lady, I'm representing Big Bob's Beepers Emporium. We believe that a box of faulty beepers were mailed here. All I want to know is where they are being kept and I'll take them off your hands."
"Aren't you a little too young to have a job?" the secretary asked skeptically.
Helga spied the lady's hand hovering over the security button on her desk. "Fine I'll go, but you can bet your butt I'll be writing a strongly worded letter to your manager!" She stormed out of the building.
*******
Helga lent against the building, near the entrance. Folding her arms, she grumbled at the concrete and the passing shoes.
What now? Life couldn't possibly any worse than this.
SPLAT! Something wet hit her on the head and was slowly dribbling down towards her neck.
Me and my big, fat thought patterns.
She turned around and looked up at her attacker. Two pigeons ruffled their feathers and continued to strut across the roof's ledge. Helga picked up the closest thing to her and followed them around to the back of the building.
"I've got you now," she hissed as she pitched the half eaten hot dog at the birds. "Missed. Don't you coo at me, you useless excuses for road kill. I'll get you, just you wait! I'll . . . hey!" She stopped when she saw an air-vent grate. "Now all I have to do is open it."
She searched her pockets for small coins. No luck. She found a coke can on the ground and pulled the can's key from the top of it. Helga reached up to the vent, but she was too short.
Trust Mother Nature to invent vertical delinquency.
She dragged a nearby garbage can under the vent; climbed up on it and carefully positioned the key in the groove of the first screw then began to turn. Finally all four screws were out and she was praising her vertical handicap as she crawled along the air ducts.
Please no rats. Please no rats. Please no rats.
Those three words repeating in her head every time she placed a hand on the cold smooth metal.
She turned right, then left, and then another left with the occasional THUD as her head got too close to the roof of the air duct. Her stomach grumbled loudly and she realised how long it had been since she had breakfast. "I can just imagine a roast dinner with thinly sliced lamb, crisp potatoes, juicy carrots . . . hey! What's that smell?" She scrambled down the duct to where an air vent brought the most delicious scent. Helga peered down through the grate at a large kitchen. There, a stout man wearing a white apron was bending over and looking through the oven door at his feast.
DING!
"Ahh . . . my promotion is for sure-a now," he praised his marvel in a fake Italian accent. He put on a pair of oven mitts, opened the oven and carefully pulled out a roast in a tray. Helga's stomach growled with jealousy.
"I had to throw the hot-dog at the pigeons, didn't I?" She inhaled the aroma and watched the roast with ravenous hunger.
Suddenly the swing doors to the kitchen flew open as a pair of legs brought in two cardboard boxes and they were dropped onto the floor with a heavy thud. A lean young man, with a mass of dark locks on his head, bent backwards from the waist as he tried to put his back into place.
"Antonio! How many times do I have-a to tell you?! Don't drop the food!" the chef glared at Antonio, as the man stared at the floor with shame. "Now go and get the others and bring them in gently eh?"
The young man scooted out the doors and Helga crawled after him, making sure to keep him in her sights through the grates.
He's going to take me straight to the storage room without even knowing it. Piece of cake! Ohhh . . . food again.
*******
Meanwhile in a small office, five floors up, a slick security guard pressed button after button on her surveillance equipment, however the giant red glow wouldn't disappear off the screen. She picked up the phone beside her and punched in the numbers for one man.
"Uh . . . Mr Smith, it seems we have an intruder in the ventilation shafts."
*******
Antonio stopped next to a few crates with the label "escargot" on the side of it. Helga waited until he left the room before she planned her next move.
How do I get out now?
She crawled a little further but only to find the shaft stopped at went straight up into the sky. She shuffled back to where she left Antonio and peered out. No one was around.
When all else fails, use brute force.
So she rolled on her side and kicked out at the grate. It didn't move. She kicked again. TINK! TINK!
Two screws fell to the floor. She kicked again and this time the grate fell with a loud clatter on to the concrete floor below.
*******
A team of armed men ran down two flights of stairs in perfect synchronisation. The leader raised a hand and everyone stopped. He placed his hand on the doorknob in front of him and swiftly opened it. Checking no one was there he raised a finger to his lips and then snuck out into the storage area with his men dispersing silently behind him.
He turned up one aisle and searched for any movement along the endless shelves. He looked ahead and saw a grate lying on the floor, directly below an opened air vent. Stopping dead in his tracks he heard tearing and peered between the shelves beside him. He snuck around the corner and raised his weapon.
"Raise you hands above your head, Miss." The little blonde girl dropped an object and obeyed his command. "Now slowly turn around and take two steps towards me." She turned and stared at him with fright as she took two shaky steps. He kept his weapon in his right hand aimed right at her, and pulled a transmitter from his waist with his left. "I've got the intruder Mr Smith. What do you want me to do? Right." He snapped the transmitter back on his waist causing the girl to jump a foot in the air. "Okay boys! I've got her!" He bent down and picked up the object she dropped. "Alright little girl, you're going to meet the man in charge. Aren't you lucky?" he grinned at the terror on her face.
*******
She dawdled home thinking of how she could possibly get the pink books back. Though Mr Smith didn't talk to her directly, but through an interpreter, she could still sense the unmistakable anger radiating from the man with his back to her. There was no way she was going to let off lightly and when "he" told her he'd speak with Bob, she knew her home-life was not going to be peaceful for a few days.
Helga walked past Phoebe's house and turned to go up the steps and ask advice from her best friend. Maybe hatch a plot so amazing that everyone would forget this ever happened. She lifted her knuckles to knock on the wooden door, and then she remembered that Phoebe was away in Kentucky for a week visiting relations. She turned around and walked back home, kicking a stray can with frustration.
That'd be my luck just when I need extra brains she not around. It seems like Fate is having a hilarious time with my predicament. How convenient that MY forgetful mother mails the wrong box, I get thrown out of a major company before I even have a position within the firm, and now MY best friend is off in the middle of nowhere. Now if I'm right, I should meet SOMEONE who is playing a major part in the problem.
And she walked around the corner and bumped straight into Arnold. He fell sprawling and let go of his pet pig's leash. He sat up and frowned at Helga. She slowly propped herself up shaking her head, trying to make the dizzy feeling go away.
"Helga. I should've known it was you," he mumbled as he searched behind him for Abner. Helga stood up and held out her hand to help him up. He looked puzzled up at her but took her hand anyway. "Uh . . . thanks. ABNER! ABNER! WHERE ARE YOU BOY?! ABNER!"
He walked off checking trashcans for his pet pig and Helga just turned around and continued home.
What do you know? I was right.
She walked inside and slammed the front door trying to get someone's attention. "I'm home!" Just as she expected there was no reply. She wandered into the lounge room and heard tiny snores coming from the couch.
I'll let her sleep. She'll need it when Bob comes home.
Helga walked upstairs to her room and was about to open her door when the front door slammed. She looked over the railing to see the visitor. To her surprise Bob was there, leaning heavily against the door trying to get his breath back unsuccessfully. He looked up at Helga and smiled weakly, waving his hand, acting like nothing was wrong.
Something is seriously wrong with him. Maybe he's gone insane. They say you should never turn your back on a crazy person.
She kept her eyes locked on his and carefully walked backwards into her room and slowly shut the door.
*******
Two hours later Helga looked up from her shrine as she heard an electric drill whirring and then it suddenly stopped and instead, she heard yelling. She shoved all her loose-leaf poems off her lap and she stood up, closed the wardrobe door and placed her ear against her door to listen to the commotion down stairs. It went deathly quiet, so her stuck her head out the door and peered down the stairs. Bob was fixing a bolt lock to the door, below the other six he just screwed in. Helga walked out and silently descended the stairs and tapped Bob on the shoulder. He jumped a foot in the air and landed with his feet apart and his fists up in guard position.
"Uh . . . Bob? What are you doing?" She asked.
Bob calmed his nerves and glared at his daughter. He hated to be seen this shaken up. After all, he is Big Bob Pataki!
"What does it look like I'm doing?" He growled pointing the electric drill in Helga's face. She folded her arms and glared back at him.
"Acting like a foolish baby. What's all the extra security for? Is there a 'Happy Sunshine Way Convention' coming to town?" she grinned evilly at Bob.
"No! That pressed-suit Smith Corporation has decided to sue my butt off because some crazed delinquent broke into their storage area and demanded to be given that box back. Why, I don't know? Crazy kook . . . So they want to see us in court and the way I see it, if I'm not there they can't do a thing about it! Heh heh heh . . ."
"Right . . . well I'm going to get some food," she shook off his odd behaviour with a shrug of her shoulders and headed for the kitchen.
It's best he doesn't know who the loony delinquent is.
*******