Hmmm... So I don't really know this works, but I thought I'd give it a shot. Not my first story, but first attempt at (tasteful) fanfiction. I'm open to critiques, any advice on how to modify, grammar, ideas, etc. I criticize the fanfics on this site, so I expect critical comments. I wouldn't dish it, if I couldn't take it. If this chapter get's hateful, negative reviews, that's fine I'll be continuing anyway. I'm not writing this for you, I'm writing it for me.
This is somewhat of an adventure like story following Helga. There is profanity and perhaps some questionable content (don't ask me what, I don't know yet).
I'd like to take the time to say I do not own Hey! Arnold or these character, they belong to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon. I do however own Priscilla, as well as other characters that will appear.
Helga Pataki sat in a diner in the vicinity of Spokane, WA. Her eyes were directed out the window beside her, not focusing on anything in particular since her mind was elsewhere. Her thoughts were still in Hillwood. Having arrived in Spokane six day's prior by bus, with nothing but the clothes on her back and duffle bag of essentials. she looked like a vagabond, and stifled a snort remembering that she was a vagabond.
Looking up absently at the waitress, she was presented with a menu, and ordered the cheapest thing on it. In an effort to still her running thoughts, she rested her forehead on the table, where it stayed until her meal arrived. In front of her was bagel with cream cheese that tasted a little past it's expiration date. The bagel was devoured in a matter of seconds, and Helga had never felt more satisfied.
Her glass of water was rapidly drained, immediately after. Grabbing her bag, she searched for cash. Counting each dollar bill she had, and going over how much would be needed to get at least half way across the country. Shit. Panicking, she found that paying for her food was not feasible.
It felt like an hour had passed in the ten minutes she spent staring at the bill, working up the courage to run. Any minute now, Helga would be out the door and on her way to anywhere. 'Ok, Helga… now'.
A five-dollar bill was placed on the table, just as she had made a grab for her bag. Looking for the source of the donation she discovered a woman, smiling down at her. The woman had blonde hair and eyeliner covered eyes.
"Next time don't think, just move" the stranger said bluntly.
"What?" Helga let slip a bewildered look, which melted into a scowl as the woman sat in the chair opposite her.
"I can tell you've never done it before," the woman noted "so next time you're in a diner, much like this one; full of fat or old employees, all you have to do is move. They'll never catch you"
"I don't know what you're talkin' about lady"
"Yes you do. You were going to dine and dash, I know the look; I've seen quite a few runaways get caught running out on an unpaid bill."
"How did you –"
"Have you seen yourself? Your appearance screams runaway, you look like you haven't slept in days, and you've been staring at the bill since it had arrived."
'Damn'. Helga's eyes darted towards the window then back and muttered "Thanks".
"Don't worry about it. Been there done that, not to mention the time for that."
Silence welled up between them.
"So," the stranger began "you need some money for a train or something? I'd hate to leave a fellow vagrant stranded in a shit hole like this."
"No I have money," Helga replied defiantly, "I just need it for the next bus out of here"
"Where are you headed?"
"Uh…" She hadn't thought of that. Anywhere, as far as possible I guess…
"I see," the woman smiled "do you need a ride there?"
Helga gave the woman a once over. The woman's hair was bleached from the dark roots that were peaking out from beneath the white-blonde hair. Her face was narrow and angular, much like a model's. Her lips were a shocking shade of red and her eyes were cat-eyed with thick black eyeliner. She was wearing a white t-shirt under a black leather jacket, faded narrow jeans, which were frayed to bits at the end and cuffed upwards. Around her waist was a plaid button up and on her feet were a pair of combat boots, probably steel-toed. The women embodied the essence of grunge; she looked like she belonged the moshpit of a nirvana concert.
"What would it cost me?" Helga wasn't sure whether she wanted to find out how reliable this chick was.
"I'd like it if you could take a driving shift every once in a while"
"I can't drive"
"We can fix that"
Helga shot her a blank then quizzical look and she responded with a devious smile.
"My name is Priscilla, but I prefer Priss, and no I'm not prissy, (Like I haven't heard that before,) not that anyone calls me that because I've been on the road for the last two years and I never stay anywhere longer than a week."
"I'm Helga"
"Nordic, I like it. Obviously your birth was sacred"
"What?" Helga narrowed her eyes warily.
"Your name, its old Norse for 'holy' or 'blessed'. You my dear are a blessing"
That's ironic.
"No, I'm about as far away from a blessing as can be"
"Is that why you're on the run?"
"Who say's I'm on the run?"
"Ever since you sat down, you've made it a point to hide your face behind your hair, which you're doing a good job of. You don't want to be seen, or recognized. It looks like you're running from something… or someone" she ended slyly.
Great.
"Well Helga," Priss continued, "you're welcome to join me. I can give you a few pointers about being incognito, and I can fill you in on what to avoid when on the run. Shall we?"
Helga Hesitated.
"Ok".
Four days Prior
Phoebe was for lack of a better word, worried. She was more than worried. All weekend long she'd tried to reach Helga on her cell phone, home phone, email, and any other type or form of communication. She'd even gone over to Helga's house multiple times a day, where she was met with either: no answer or Big Bob mumbling something about her being out.
By now Phoebe was frantic. As soon as she arrived at school she raced to Helga's locker hoping that she would catch her best friend before her morning class. She turned the corner expecting to see a flash of blonde hair bobbing up and down searching for necessary items for the day, but she was met with an unopened locker and no sign of Helga. Phoebe swiftly turned the knob in the sequence that would open the lock and free the locker door. She pulled the door open, and her panic heightened: everything was still there. Phoebe knew for sure that Helga had Bio first period, and the bell was due to ring in a minute or so, but Helga's text book lay at the end of the row of textbooks along with the other somber school related objects that inhabited Helga's locker.
Ok, so she was late. Phoebe jumped at the sound of the bell. She moved hastily, hoping to hell and back that Helga would show up for second period.
She didn't. Helga was nowhere to be found, not at lunch or her third class or her fourth. Phoebe's fright was at maximum capacity as she waited anxiously for the last bell. As soon as it rang she raced down the hall, only to be stopped by her boyfriend.
"Pheebs, babe what's the hurry?" questioned Gerald.
Arnold appeared in the shadow of the couple, and observed with interest.
"It's nothing. No. No it's not nothing, I need you to drive me somewhere, fast!"
"Sure, but where? And why fast?"
"No time to explain, it's. It's. Helga, I have a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach and I need to make sur–"
"Look, I'm sure you feel guilty about what went down on Friday, but you shouldn't give in so easily. Wait till she apologizes first."
"She already did!"
"To you, but not to us" Arnold commented, after a long pause.
"That's not what I'm getting at!" Phoebe yelled in frustration, "I've been trying to get a hold of her since Friday, but she hasn't answered her phone, or her door, and she wasn't at school today."
"Coward" Gerald mumbled
"Something is wrong! Phoebe emphasized, "She was acting incredibly odd when we last spoke, and she was absent all day!"
"Phoebe, calm down" Arnold reasoned, "She probably avoided contact because she wanted time alone, which is perfectly understandable. She'll be back tomorrow with her usual scowl and curve of anger to her brow". He smiled reassuringly.
Phoebe turned to Gerald. "Gerald please, I must make she that Helga is safe."
Gerald sighed and led Phoebe to his car. He unlocked the door so Phoebe could get in. Arnold caught up with them and jumped into the back seat.
"I thought you were still angry at her," Gerald said to him
"You're my ride" Arnold said simply, not making eye contact.
The car departed in the direction of the Pataki household. Phoebe bounded towards the door. This time it was Miriam who answered.
"Hello? Oh! Phoebe." Miriam slurred
"Hello Mrs. Pataki, is Helga in?" Phoebe asked politely
"I'm not sure, HELGA?" Miriam yelled in the direction of the stairs. Silence answered.
"Do you mind if I go in and check if she's there?"
"Go ahead, dear" Miriam stumbled away, smoothie in hand.
Phoebe sprinted up the stairs, Gerald and Arnold following after. She knocked on the door. After a moment of silence, she pushed it open to reveal a very unkempt room. Clothes had been pulled out of drawers and thrown in all directions; books were stacked and tossed in odd places while the bookshelf was bare. The Bed had been stripped of sheets and a chair lay broken in a corner.
The trio stared at the room in apprehension. Helga was nowhere within the disarray.
Phoebe slowly walked over to the closet, and slowly opened the door a crack so that Arnold would not see the shrine dedicated to him that lived in the small space, but she found it bare. She pushed the door a bit farther and saw bags lying on the floor of the closet, they looked victim of a desperate search for something. After a moment Phoebe realized what Helga had been searching for.
Helga's duffle bag was missing as well as her laptop, which was removed from its hiding place within the closet. She turned around and examined the thrown objects. A few of Helga's favorite clothing were missing, as well her tattered combat boots. Phoebe turned to the books that were scattered and found a peculiar one that stood out. It was spread face down open to the first page. She picked it up and found it to be hollow. Whatever had been inside was gone. She turned and noticed that the picture of her and Helga, which was normally stuck above Helga's bed, was gone.
"Pheebs, you should come look at this" Gerald spoke, breaking the silence.
She approached him, curious as to what he'd found. Gerald stood over a full wastebasket. Upon looking inside Phoebe discovered the all of Helga's poetry-filled notebooks. At the bottom of the basket was a ball of paper that consisted of several pieces. She picked up the ball and took it apart. Smoothing out the paper, she found writing.
To whoever finds this:
I've found that I have no desire to stay in Hillwood, I'm sick of everyone in this stupid town. So I'm gone. I'm done. I hate you all. I have to escape one was or another. If I can't leave, I can die.
This message was scribbled out carelessly. She picked up another.
FUCK THIS TOWN.
FUCK MY STUPID FAMILY. FUCK MY FRIENDS. FUCK MY SCHOOL. FUCK MY LIFE.
IT'S ALL GOTTA END SOMETIME, WHY NOT NOW?
The writing was clumsy, and once again, crossed out this time diagonally. Phoebe slowly picked up the last piece.
If you can't tell by the mess I've left, or my previous attempts to write a "goodbye" note, I've split. Gone. Left. I can't continue to endure this suffocating town. So I'm leaving. I'm not sure where I'll go, but really anywhere is better than this frenzied hell. As for the suicidal references in the first attempts, I have yet to come to a decision on that. Maybe somewhere along the way, I'll bleed out in a random rest stop on the highway. Or die of hunger due to lack of money. Maybe I'll be picked up by a trucker or something and end up raped then strangled to death. Wow I really hope the last one doesn't happen.
The only thing I know for sure is that my end is near. I'm being very melodramatic, I know, but I have a desire to chase it. I'm going to rush to the end of my tunnel, and envelope myself in the white light people talk so much about. I'm going to finish off "Helga".
To conclude what is obviously the subject of this note is: I'm running away.
Phoebe if you find this, and I really, truly hope you don't, I want you to know that I've never loved anyone in my life more than I love you (aside from ice cream). This is really selfish of me, I know, but I can't do this anymore. I hope that one day when you and Geraldo are married and have little Japanese-Black-White kids, that you remember the good times we had rather than the shit that transpired.
I really hate this place. I really hate just about everyone in this place. In fact, I don't even think this note is necessary. Everyone's better off speculating what happened rather than try to find me (ha-ha.).
Fuck it. This is dumb.
"This is really bad" Arnold broke the silence.
"I need a car," Phoebe said. Her voice was quiet and devoid of emotion. She turned to the two boys. The young woman had gone pale and her eyes were brimmed with tears. This only added to the boys' worry.
"You don't know where she could've gone and assuming she left Saturday morning, she could be anywhere by now." Arnold reasoned.
"Also, there is no way you could go searching for her by yourself. You read the note, there's no way I'd let you leave with a chance of getting raped!" Gerald said with a note of exasperation.
"Too bad! There is no way I'm letting her get away like this. We've spent too much time together; which makes this goodbye completely unacceptable! If shit happens, so be it! I'm going to find her, then kick the crap out of her and drag her HOME"
Arnold and Gerald stared at her, shocked. She had sworn. It was surreal. Phoebe let a shriek of frustration and marched towards the door, stacking the poetry books and goodbye notes which she carried with her on her way out. The two boys were left flabbergasted in her wake.
Yaaaay done. Short ish.
So please review, let me know what you hate and junk. Also, it'd be terrific to know that someone is reading. Also, It'd be good to poll negative and positive comments.