After wasting two dollars in quarters at six broken vending machines, Arnold spent the last of his money at the only lunch truck open that day.

"Here." He pressed one of the warm turkey sandwiches into her hands. "Guess this will have to pass for Thanksgiving dinner," he sighed.

"Yeah, thanks." Helga slumped down on the curb beside him, taking a huge bite of her sandwich. The turkey was dry and the bread wet, and the gravy tasted like Miriam's burnt stuffing, but it was food. Arnold handed her a bottle of soda.

"It's not bad," he said, swallowing a mouthful of wet bread and dry meat. "I mean..."

"It tastes like crap and you know it," Helga scoffed. "Face it, this whole day's nothing but a bust, Football Head, and if you give me anymore of that look on the bright side crap-"

"Okay, so maybe there is no bright side this time." He sighed again. "But on the other hand, being negative's not doing us any favors right now either." He moved a little closer, and Helga's heart fluttered. "At least we're together. I mean, instead of each of us walking the streets all alone."

"...yeah, I guess." Helga took a swig of her soda and gave him a tiny smile. "And of all the people to be lost on Thanksgiving with it could be worse than you!" No! That's not how it was supposed to come out! But to her relief he didn't look offended.

"Like Curly?" he offered, and they both laughed.

"Exactly."

They ate in silence for the next few minutes, then Arnold cleared his throat.

"Listen, Helga...I know we don't always get along and sometimes I act like being around you is a fate worse than death," he said. "But...this is nice. Being with you like this, getting along, you not hating me for once."

Helga's heart nearly broke. So he did think she hated him!

"Since when did I ever say I hated you, Football Head?" she said, more angrily than she'd intended. "Man, you're clueless!"

"I can read between the lines," Arnold said. "And most of the time you either call me names or throw spitballs at me or act find me annoying."

"Oh." She stared into her half-eaten sandwich. "Well, I don't. It's just..."

He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she could swear she'd died and gone to heaven.

"What is it, Helga?"

"It's...hard for me to be nice, okay? I just...well, you know how my dad is and everyone says I take after him, and, well..." She sighed. "Never mind."

"I knew it," he said. "You're really not as mean as you think you are, Helga."

"Oh, come on, Arnoldo-"

"Don't try to pretend." The soggy half-eaten sandwiches fell by the wayside as he pulled himself closer. "You want to know something? Even if you don't think you're a good person, I do."

His face was only inches from hers and right now she wanted nothing more than to kiss the living daylights out of him. Oh, it would be so easy to kiss him, to take that football-head of his in her hands and feel the softness of his lips on hers and not have it be her pillow for once! And he was looking at her like he wanted her to kiss him. She leaned forward...and then her courage faltered and she looked down.

"Um, you...kinda have something in your teeth," she muttered. "I think. Could just be my imagination."

"Oh." He blushed, looking away. "Er, well...maybe we should find someplace warmer to stay. It looks like it's about to snow."

"Right." She stood up, shoving the remainder of her sandwich into her coat pocket while he did the same. "Hey, Arnold?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought of something I'm thankful for."

He smiled.

"Me too, Helga."

Feeling bolder now, she wrapped her hand around his as they went down the street in search of shelter. Never before had Helga been so glad to forget her mittens as the warmth of his fingertips seeped into her very being.

Someday, my football-headed love, someday I'll be able to tell you all that rests within my tormented little heart!