The Beginning
"Hey, Arnold, the guys are heading over to Slausen's," Gerald said, walking over to his best friend, who was grabbing a drink at the water fountain. "Wanna come?"
Arnold straightened up and adjusted one of the straps of his backpack. "I'll meet you guys there; I forgot to grab a book from my locker. Save me a seat!"
Gerald grinned. "You got it." He held his fist up to Arnold, who returned the boy's smile and commenced their handshake.
When Gerald returned to the group of fourth graders, (Harold, Sid, Stinky, and a happy-to-have-been-invited Eugene), Arnold turned away, walking further into the school to his locker. He was feeling particularly happy that day: he'd gotten an A on his math test, his team won the kickball game at recess thanks to his game-changing kick right at the end, and the lunch lady gave him an extra tapioca pudding at lunch. He had a soft smile on his face, and he allowed himself to walk especially slow so that he could really get lost in his thoughts and daydreams while also not tripping or knocking anything over. Everything was going just fine, when suddenly...
A hand grabbed his arm roughly and he felt himself being pulled into the darkened janitor's closet. The whole thing happened so fast that he didn't see his captor's face, but he didn't have to worry about that for long, because as sudden as the darkness engulfed him it was gone and he blinked at the sudden light.
And then the voice of the most unlikely, (or, let's face it, probably the most likely), person said in a half-amused, half-mocking voice,
"Hey, Football Head."
Arnold couldn't help it; no matter how many years he'd known Helga, for her to suddenly wrench him away from any witnesses was still a little... unnerving. His eyes widened and his throat felt dry. Is... is she going to pound me? I don't remember doing anything bad to her today... And there wasn't really a change in how she treated me... Except, maybe there were less spitballs than usual. The boy gulped. "Uh... Hi, Helga..."
Without another word, Arnold felt his back suddenly crash against the closed janitor's door, only a pair of hands protecting him from getting the wind knocked out of him. He stared wide-eyed at Helga, too frozen to try to escape her tight hold on him; her eyes were only in his line of sight for a few seconds before her lips were suddenly feverishly moving against his own. His eyes widened even further, and, without thinking, his arms flew up to the pig-tailed girl's shoulders; his intention was to push her away, but she clung tight to him and was refusing to let him go. He hadn't felt that panicked since FTi, (a forbidden subject, and one he unfortunately found himself mulling over, often in his dreams), and he was just as helpless. There was something so suffocating about Helga's lips; they were aggressive, passionate, intense, and... soft and warm and... loving. And they tasted like the Mr. Fudgy bar she had at lunch. The last time she had kissed him, he hadn't gotten the time to really think during it, and... absorb the details of the kiss; on that roof, he had been way too shocked that it was Helga, of all people, but in that janitor's closet, being kissed by Helga... wasn't really all that surprising. Of course, he hadn't expected it, but he would've been more stunned if it were Rhonda, or Nadine, or anybody else.
Just as sudden as she had latched to him, she suddenly let him go. Well, her lips did; she kept her strong, pale arms wrapped tightly around his torso, and, for a few seconds, the two children stared at each other, panting slightly. The young girl's blue eyes seemed surprised at her own actions, and that made Arnold more confused than anything else.
Helga drew a deep breath and stepped away, releasing her hold on the boy, who was still in shock and let his arms simply fall limply by his sides. Helga clasped her hands behind her back, and she cleared her throat, feeling nervous and ashamed as what she did actually settling in her mind. "U-um... sorry about that..."
Arnold tried to take control of his breathing, and his cheeks were slightly redder than they were when he was initially dragged in the closet. He was hardly aware that he was speaking as he stuttered out, "Uh... i-it's okay... um, what was, uh... what was that... for exactly?"
Helga felt a blush blossom lovely across her cheeks as she said, "I don't know... Uh... Heat of the moment?" Her voice seemed desperate, as if she were pleading with him to just let it go. She hadn't even really thought about her actions; she just found herself in a janitor's closet, and she'd... uh, happened to have listened to Arnold's conversation with his friend...
Okay, so maybe she planned the whole thing out in excruciating detail, (well, at least the kiss part), but could she be blamed? She'd had a rough day: she woke up late to a virtually empty house, (as her father apparently had to go on a 'business trip,' whatever the heck that meant, leaving Miriam and Helga alone in the house together, which was hardly ever a good thing), she'd been tardy again for school, (and had received a stern talking to from Wartz that she mostly blocked out), she had no lunch and the pockets of her jumper were void of any spare George Washington's, and then, of course, Arnold just had to go and flirt, flirt, flirt away with Lila under her very nose, and she just... lost control. All control.
A brief flashback...
"Would you like to go to the pier with me, Helga?" a sweet, small, almost squeaky voice asked. Phoebe pushed her glasses up on her nose as she looked up at Helga with a smile. "You've seemed distant today and I'm certain that some time spent -"
"Crimeny, Pheebs, could I have one minute alone to myself, please?" Helga immediately retorted in an angry voice. Phoebe shrunk away from her, taken aback by her sudden hostility, but Helga was too far gone to really pay attention to the toll her anger was taking on her best friend. "I'm surrounded by morons all day," Helga stuck out a leg and tripped an unsuspecting fourth grader from another class as she spoke, "And I'm forced to interact with them 'peacefully' and 'nonviolently,'" Helga put air-quotations up to these words, "And now that I have the rest of the day to myself, I'm not going to willingly jump into a situation that involves speaking and being around other people! I'd like to just return home to my house by myself, alone! Is that too much to ask?" Helga took a deep, heaving breath, glaring daggers at some random poster tacked to the wall ahead of her, just over Phoebe's shoulder. Her fists were held clenched by her side and she was fuming.
Phoebe understood perfectly how terrible a day Helga had: she'd shared half her lunch with her when she noticed that Helga didn't even have anything to trade with Harold, but she knew better than to comment. (Helga hadn't initiated the conversation, and she knew better than to verbalize her observations.) Still, an angry Helga was a scary Helga; she was much different than her normal sarcastic and border-line rude self. She was much more venomous and lethal. Phoebe managed a small, shaky, nervous smile and said,
"Of course not, Helga. If you need some time alone, then you should take it." Phoebe pushed her glasses further on her nose again. "Would you like me to walk you home?"
Helga sighed, her initial anger finally subsiding a bit and guilt overtaking her. "No, that's alright, Phoebe. I'd really just like to be on my own."
Phoebe smiled at Helga's now calm exterior, and held an approving thumb up. "Alright, Helga. I'll call you tonight."
Helga shot her a soft smile, although it appeared forced. "Sure thing, Pheebs." Helga watched as Phoebe turned the corner of the hallway before she leaned heavily against a locker, glancing around her. When she saw that she was alone, she slipped into the janitor's closet, (her so-called office), and quickly closed the door behind her. She pulled the cord to turn on the light, and reached into her jumper to snag her locket.
"Oh, Arnold," she cooed, her index finger tracing his cheek, "After all I've endured today, after all the hardships I have faced, being able to see your knee-shaking boyish smile has more than made up for it. So sweet, so charming, so kind towards all who suffer... Oh, how I long for you to see through this mask I must put on every day of my life; how I long to hear you say the fateful three words I have always prayed to hear, ever since I was at the ripe age of three: I love you. Oh, how I love you, Arnold; I love you, I love you! I wish I could just gather you to myself, and shower you with my adoration, ravish you with my kisses, and engulf you in my embrace..."
At this point, Helga was used to having to punch Brainy's lights out, but he was nowhere to be found. It confused Helga, but she continued nonetheless. "But I have not the courage, nor the fortitude to do so." She sighed, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders, and she moved towards the door. "There's nothing left for me but to go home... At least there, I can sing my praise to a football head that will quietly and un-mockingly listen..."
"...I'll meet you guys there; I forgot to grab a book from my locker. Save me a seat!"
Helga's ears perked up at the sweet, sweet voice. She let out a lovesick sigh as she leaned her back against the door, whispering sweetly, "Arnold." She listened as his footsteps grew nearer and nearer, when suddenly a peculiar little idea popped into her head...
End flashback...
"But," Arnold said, in response to Helga's feeble reply of her kiss being 'the heat of the moment.' His eyebrows furrowed. "You're the one who pulled me in here -"
"Look, Football Head, it was the heat of the moment, okay?" Helga said irritably, folding her arms over her chest. "It was an... accident."
Arnold huffed and folded his arms. "Look, Helga, you can't keep kissing me with no explanation. If you're going to kiss me, at least tell me why." As soon as the words left his mouth he blinked. I can believe I just said that out loud... What did I even mean by it?
Helga's jaw dropped and her arms fell slack at her sides. He... He can't possibly mean... No, of course not, he can't; that's... that's ridiculous! Preposterous! Come off it, Helga... Always getting your hopes up. "I'd rather not have this conversation right now, Arnoldo. I'd really appreciate it if you'd just... just recognize that I have a tendency to get caught up in the heat of the moment, and do things that I regret immediately afterwards!"
Arnold felt his heart ache for a moment. She regrets it? He shook his head as soon as the thought formed in his mind. Of course she regrets it; she hates me! I-I should regret it, too! Another, more annoying and mocking voice rang in his head, practically singing, Then why don't you? He inwardly huffed at that, but refused to give that stupid, stupid voice the light of day. Part of Arnold wanted to believe Helga; heck, that part of him was pretty darn huge! But he knew deep down, (well, perhaps not so deep down), that she was telling the truth on the FTi roof, and that this so-called kiss that was 'unprovoked' was completely real. Pssh, heat of the moment! Yeah, right! Heat of the moment is when you're having an argument, and then you just... get carried away with the yelling and then... Whatever, I don't know, I'm only nine! But she deliberately pulled me into a closet... That wasn't heat of the moment; that took planning! She had to have known where I was, and when I was going to walk by, and if I was going to be alone! This wasn't some reckless inclination; this was on... purpose!
With that, Arnold frowned and folded his arms. "No. I don't believe you."
Helga shook her head and began to move past him. Oh, crimeny, don't push this, Arnold, please... I don't know if I can handle that right now. "Yeah, well, that's your own fault, Football Head, now move out of my way."
Arnold took a step forward, attempting to block her exit, but she just elbowed him in the ribs, (way more delicately than she would Harold or Sid or Stinky or pretty much anybody other than him), and, while he winced back at the sudden sharp pain and was momentarily distracted, she pushed him to the side and hurried out as fast, and yet as casual, as she could.
"Helga, wait!" Arnold called, recovering and trying to follow after her.
At first, the young girl didn't answer.
But then, Arnold ran right up behind her and said, "Helga, I don't believe you and I'm not going to leave you alone until you tell me the truth."
Still, Helga stayed silent.
Arnold folded his arms and matched her pace, looking up at her with a frustrated frown and a stubborn look about his eyes. "I'm not leaving you alone. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm supposed to meet the guys to get ice cream before we play a little baseball, but I'm going to blow them off, and follow you wherever you're going, so that you'll have enough time to tell me the truth. I know you probably think I'm bluffing, but you must know me well enough by now to know that I'm not going to back down from this unless I have probable cause. So, I think the only logical solution to this little Football-Headed problem is to just tell me the -"
Helga suddenly stopped and whirled around to face him. Her cheeks were tinted red in her anger, and her hands were held in fists at her side. Arnold shrunk a bit at the sight of her. "Football Head, if you know what's good for you, you'll leave me alone. I'm not even going to give you the name of my fists; you already know them, and I'm too angry to sugar-coat the inevitable pounding you're going to get if you pursue this any further."
Arnold couldn't help but swallow at that threat. It seemed... really real. If she loved him... she wouldn't really hurt him, right? Right? But she sounded like she was on the brink of an all-out violent melt-down, and he was getting... not quite afraid, but mostly apprehensive. Not that he'd admit that to her, but he figured that, if he didn't want to hobble home with a broken leg and a dislocated shoulder, he should just stop bugging her and let her alone. He sighed and looked down, away from her venomous gaze. "Okay, Helga. If that's really what you want, I'll leave you alone. But I could at least walk you home -"
Helga didn't even have it in her to swoon at his offer. She shook her head wildly. "No, that's quite alright, Football Head, I think I can manage."
Arnold took a step towards her, a finger raised in protest. "But -"
"Arnold!" Helga said in a voice so loud it made Arnold cringe. "What part of 'leave me alone' escapes your idiotic little Football-Headed brain? Now, I'm going home, and you're going wherever it is that you're going, and you're not going to breath a word of this to anyone, not even Tall Hair Boy." Helga poked a long, slender finger into his chest sharply. "Got it?"
Arnold leaned away from her, but stood his ground. "Yeah, sure. I got it."
Helga straightened up and folded her arms in front of her chest, turning away. "Good. Glad to know we're on the same page, Football Head." With that, she stomped off down the hall, leaving a flustered, relatively-desperate, slightly-angry Arnold in her wake.
