A/N: Hello there! Thanks for stopping by.

This story used to go by the name The Overheard Confession of Helga Pataki, but I decided to rename it Evesdropping Arnold because it's not as much of a mouthful. I hope you enjoy, and decide to stick along as I write my take on what would happen if Arnold had actually overheard Helga confessing, meaning FTi never took place.

P.S: Hey Arnold characters do not belong to me, but I have fun writing about them. ^^

I've always been a bit of an optimist.

Seeing the good in a situation that seems rather bleak is pretty much second nature to me. I guess I just refuse to give up on hope. There's a bright side to everything, or at least, that's what I do my best to believe anyway.

I couldn't figure out the bright side, however, to being rear first in the cafeteria trashcan with everyone around me laughing at my current predicament. To put it simply, while I was embarrassed, I was just really annoyed. Helga definitely had a knack for getting under my skin in ways nobody else could. She was probably the only one who could bring out a darker side I didn't even know I had.

"Next time just make sure you stay out of my way, Football Head," Helga says, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she glares at me.

"It's not like I try to cross your path much these days, anyway," I hear myself mutter. I can't believe those words escaped from my mouth, but it was true. I had mostly given up on finding the good person deep down. Perhaps, Gerald had a point. There was never one to find. A bully can never change her stripes.

"Whatever," she says, turning on her heel, and exiting the cafeteria, leaving me in a state of confusion as to why she was the one leaving me behind. As if I were in the wrong here. Considering we were in the eighth grade, and I had known her for a good chunk of my life, I was sure I would never understand Helga Pataki.

"Man, oh man," Gerald, said, helping me from my grisly prison with a slight wrinkle of his nose. "I can't believe she actually went through and chucked you out like last weeks newspaper. That chick is definitely not one to tangle with."

"Yeah, I just don't get it. I always feel like I might be missing something, but I don't know what," We had gotten along okay before, but lately there had been tension between the two of us. Rather brought on by me or from her I wasn't sure. It was just the sort of situation that I was never sure how to approach, and if I did, it only served to complicate things between us even more. Girls were complicated beings, but Helga was on a different level completely.

Gerald shrugged. "Nothing to miss. She doesn't like you, man, simple as that. Just stay out of her way, and I'm sure she'll gladly stay out of yours."

"Yeah, you're probably right," I say, sighing. "I just wish that you weren't."

"Hey, Arnold!" Harold yells from his seat a good yard from where I stand. "You're supposed to poop inside of the toilet. Not inside of your pants! Haha!"

I turn my head around to catch a small glimpse of what had to be a large, brown patch on my behind. I can feel a blush warm my cheeks as the cafeteria erupts in a fresh fit of laughter. Great, now I'd have to find a way to live this down.

"I think I ought to try and do something about the stain," I say, frowning. "I'll see you later, Gerald. Thanks for helping me out of there."

He smiles sheepishly as he nods. "I'll try to find some way to get them over it, okay?"

"I doubt that," I say, grimacing. "But I appreciate the moral support."

"Anytime, buddy," We do our 'secret handshake' and I make my walk of shame out of the room, watching as Harold pounds the table like the stain on my pants is the funniest thing in the world, Eugene squirts milk out of his nose and falls backwards off of his seat, and I even notice that Lila has a small smile on her face, which she tries to mask with her hand. Yup, I'm very much annoyed.

I exit the cafeteria, and continue to walk briskly down the hallway towards the restroom. I am hoping with all my might that nobody will pop out to add more insult to the injury I'm sporting, when I hear something muffled, a voice, coming from somewhere nearby. Normally, I would just keep walking. There were classes still in session, perhaps all I was hearing was a voice coming from one of the nearby rooms, but for some reason, I know that isn't the case, and my curiosity gets the better of me.

I listen carefully; walking towards an unknown destination that was definitely not the restroom I actually needed to be heading towards right then. Quickly scanning the area, I figure out that the voice is coming from behind a pile of trash bags sitting in the hallway. I raise an eyebrow at the questionable location. As odd as it is for me to believe that anyone would choose such a location to be in, I did know of a person crazy enough to do it, even though she was kind of the last person I wanted to see at the moment. I sigh and turn around, not wanting to be tossed into a different pile of trash if it was indeed Helga, but stop short when I catch bits and pieces of a soft and floaty voice that makes my breath catch.

"Why, oh why, do I treat you so, my love!? The yearning I feel for you continues to grow stronger, whilst my behavior repels you further away from me."

I stand there, in the middle of the hallway, slightly shocked. There's no way this voice belongs to Helga. It sounds nothing like her. I didn't even realize I had moved closer until the horrible stench of garbage reaches my nose. Well, since I'm already here...I peek over, not wanting to disturb whoever was speaking. Once my eyes have registered who it is, they immediately widen from shock. It is Helga.

"I've longed to let you know of this deep, all consuming, passion I've held close to my heart. You're my muse, my inspiration, and yet I continue to treat you so poorly."

I'm in disbelief as I watch her staring at something in her grasp as she pulls it close to her chest seemingly out of anguish. This is Helga, right? My personal bully? I'm sure my mouth has dropped open, but I'm still far too surprised to close it. I know I should leave before I become acquainted to Old Betsy, but my betraying ears itch to hear more, and while I know I will chastise myself later for deliberately eavesdropping, I can't find it within myself to leave.

"When will I confess to you these deep-rooted feelings I've clung to wholeheartedly? How I wish for you to understand the depths of how strongly I feel! For it is you that I love! Yes, you Arnold-"

Whoa, wait...Arnold...as in me? She...loves me?

Hearing…that is enough to motivate my legs into moving again. I turn around as quickly as I can and bolt to the restroom, as if running can help me forget her words. By the time I have made it to the place I should have gone to instead, my cheeks burn hot from the exertion of both the exercise and thinking about what I had overheard. This was Helga. Helga G. Pataki! She's been my bully since, well, forever! She hates me!

I begin to feel dizzy as my thoughts continue to spin around this insane piece of information. Heading straight for the sinks, I stare at myself in the mirror, willing my reflection to tell me I was dreaming. Yet he just stares back, his cheeks flushed, hair wild, and his eyes wide in shock and disbelief. Obviously, he can't believe it either.

I splash cold water on my face, and place my hands on the edge of the sink for support. I'm not sure what to do, or how to act to this news. It bothers me sure, but it was information I wasn't supposed to have. Immediately, the guilt of what I have done hits my gut like a bag full of bricks. I never should have stayed and listened in.

As if to make matters worse, the bell rings, signaling that lunch is over now, and I have yet to do anything about the brown spot on the back of my pants. Not to mention that facing Helga right now will be hard, even if I didn't talk to her. I can feel my cheeks burn hot again at the thought of her words. I feel as if I don't know which way is up, and which way is down anymore. Depressing.

I am still surprised, and more than a little confused, by what I heard, but I knew there is no going back now. My mind keeps replaying her words on autopilot. They were words I would have sworn she would never say without being held at gunpoint, and maybe not even then. It is unsettling how easily they slipped from her tongue. As if they are words she says often.

I recall the softness of her features as she spoke. Her eyes lighting up with passion and also a hint of sorrow. I find myself wishing that I could catch another glimpse of her like that. She was off guard and her walls were down. I knew I was probably one of the few, if not the only one, who had ever seen her that way. I blush feeling yet again a niggling feeling deep down. There is no denying it is guilt.

What Helga said was done in what she assumed to be privacy. A privacy that I have most certainly breached. I hate when my conscious got to tell me 'I told you so', but it's saying it loud and clear right now. I know, without a doubt, if she ever found out I overheard her, she would probably murder me on the spot...Actually, no probably about it, which leads to my biggest problem. How am I supposed to act around her knowing...that!?

I'm sure that I don't share her feelings. There is just too much ingrained in me that she is my bully. I have never once thought of her as a love interest. Sure I tolerate her, but that is about the extent of it.

I groan, doing my best to rid my pants of the stain and failing miserably. It is still too much! It can't be true! It's Helga after all. Helga! It's more shocking than if Harold were to give up eating all the time, or if Curly stopped being a bit insane. This is out of the blue! It begs for so many other questions to be asked. Questions I wasn't sure I wanted to even ask, or know about because it is Helga!

I sigh and give up on trying to get the stain out completely, and slide my pants back on. Now my pants were damp and stained. I decide to take my blue sweatshirt and tie it around my waist. It's better than nothing, and it hides what I need it to.

I stare one more time at my reflection. I have no idea what kind of charade I am going to have to play, but I have to be ready. I mean I can't afford to mess up. There is no denying that my very life might be at stake if Helga ever found out that I knew. I have to avoid that from happening at all costs.

I groan again as I slap my forehead with the palm of my hand. What a day!