Author's notes: This is my first fanfic in a LONG time, and my very first Hey Arnold fic ever, so it might be awhile before I post later chapters, due to chronic writer's block. I promise to finish it eventually, so if I happen to accumulate any fans, please bear with me. If anything is misspelled, it is due to the misfortune of my spell checker being out of order. Constructive criticism happily accepted. Flames will be used to light the barbecue and can be taken up with my collaborator, Ms. Prongs. Have a nice day.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't claim to own, don't hope to own. Hey Arnold = Craig Bartlett. You get the idea. Sue me and I'll pluck your eyes out of their sockets and keep them in a little jar on my shelf. Oh, but the poem is mine, so steal it, and the same thing will happen to you.
Didn't Care Enough
by Maleia L. Rosen
--Helga's POV--
Sifting through the junk in my closet, I came to the undeniably obvious conclusion that I was either going to have to find some more boxes, or sort the various odds and ends into more specific categories. Aparrently, I had way more books of poetry than were going to fit into a single box. Not that I wanted to announce to the world that I had these diaries, so distinguishing between my boxes of books and boxes of journals in such a way that only I would understand the difference was another obstacle I had encountered. I decided a simple change in marker color would be sufficient.
"You finished up there, Olga?" Big Bob called precariously up the stairs. HELGA, I wanted to scream at him, though I chose not to answer aloud. It was on his order that I was cleaning my closet out in the first place. He and Miram had decided that since Olga could manage to keep her room completely immaculate, that there was no reason whatsoever that I should be allowed to continue keeping my room in total disarray. Or to phrase it in Big Bob's words, "Clean that rat-hole out before school's over or you're grounded all summer."
Tomorrow would begin the last week of school and I only needed another hour to finish the job. I had inspected, sorted, thrown away, and thrown away some more. Now only packing the things into the boxes and vacuuming the carpet remained.
"Helga," came Miriam's voice from the doorway. "Your father and I are getting ready to
leave now . . . Be good and listen to your sister, okay honey?"
"Of course Mother, I wouldn't think of having it any other way," I told her, my voice holding the sickeningly sweetness that was anyone's but my own.
Either she didn't notice or didn't care that I was being sarcastic beyond all reason, but in any case she dropped a kiss on my cheek, which was promptly wiped off, and left the room, tossing a final, "Be good, honey! See you Sunday!" over her shoulder.
I snorted and watched out of my window as the car pulled away from the curb, the scene accented with a waving, weeping Olga. It seemed like a scene out of a TV sitcom or something, only more sappy and overemotional. I left the window and went back to my box-packing.
Stacking my full journals in stacks of eight, I finally managed to fill the last box, and, dragging it over to the closet, I taped it up and stacked it on top of the others. Finally pulling out the vacuum cleaner, I hastily vacuumed the rug and called it quits. If Big Bob couldn't be satisfied with that, then he could bite me.
It took me all of about five minutes to re-hang all of my clothes in the closet, hiding the boxes, and to my horror, heard Olga's voice downstairs, accompanied by those of my parents. I hurried over to the window and found our car to be back where it belonged, parallel parked between the red Camero that belonged to the neighbor on the left, and the brown Buick of the neighbor on the right.
I was about to tiptoe to my eavesdropping position on the stairs to find out what they were doing back, but when I opened my bedroom door, I only found myself face-to-face with Big Bob the Beeper King.
Painting a scowl on my face and lacing my voice with disdain, I managed to hide my surprise at seeing him. "What are you doing back?"
His eyes shifted to the stairs where Olga and Miriam seemed to be hurriedly searching for something, and I heard Olga exclaim in distress, "Oh Mummy, where could you have left them?"
I hid a smile as I waited for Bob to answer.
"Ah, your mother forgot the plane tickets," came his gruff reply. "So I thought I'd come up and see if you'd finished the job."
I cringed as he made his way over to my closet door and pulled it open. I prayed he would just look at the neatness on the outside and not search deeper, finding my journals. My prayer was in vain, however, as the last box I had stacked came tumbling out of the closet and the books and last few odds and ends I had stored in there went flying across the floor.
"Crimeny, girl, what am I going to do with you?!" Bob yelled, pulling the clothes aside and pulling out more boxes, dumping their contents out on the floor. "I expect this job done right before Sunday otherwise I'm going to ground you for so long you'll be grateful to see daylight once you're out of your room again." This statement was made as he walked down the hallway and stood at the top of the stairs.
"Olga!" he called. "Come up here, I have a job I want you to do!"
I froze and every muscle in my body tensed up as Bob came back into the room followed by Miss Mary Sunshine herself. My scowl deepened and I sighed heavily. Just what I wanted was Olga in my room, going through my things.
"Now," said Bob. "Olga's going to help you do this job, and this time, I know it'll be done right." He left the room. A few minutes later, Miriam walked into the room.
"Well, girls, I found the tickets, so we're going now ... again." Olga threw her arms around Miriam's neck. I could tell it was all she could do to keep from bursting into those loud, obnoxious baby tears of hers.
"Bye Helga . . .. " Miriam began, but I only nodded in response. She left the room and a few seconds later I heard the front door close and the car start once again. This time they were gone, and I was stuck with the Princess of Priss.
You can tell I'm excited about this, right?
"Well, Baby Sister, we'll have to first straighten up this mess and decide what to keep and what to throw away."
"None of it gets thrown away," I said, trying to sound threatening. "I already got rid of all the trash."
"Ah, a few things my baby sister isn't willing to part with, hm?"
She had that oh-so-nauseating perkiness about the whole situation that made my stomach turn. Why did she have to be so darned arrogent? The fact that she didn't mean to act superior only made me even sicker.
"I told you," I said flatly. "I already threw away all of the trash. Not a single one of these things goes out of here. I mean it."
I headed toward the door.
"Where are you going, Helga?"
"I'm going out. If you want to do this, then do it, but if any of that stuff is gone when I get back, it's your head."
Olga looked a bit hurt at my harsh words. I smiled to myself at breaking her happiness, if only momentarily. I brushed away any guilt I felt about it and closed the door behind me as I left my room.
~*~
--Arnold's POV--
As I passed the Pataki household, I heard Helga, as usual, threatening her sister through the open upstairs window. I stood outside the door, for the simple fact that Helga was inevitably going to be coming out it any second. As the door started to open, I quickly pretended to be walking past.
Before I knew it, she had bumped into me and we both went sprawling on the pavement.
"Sorry Helga," I apologized and reached to help her up. Well this wasn't how I'd planned for it to go. She was supposed to stroll out of the house looking troubled and I was going to say hi and ask her what was wrong. She'd pretend nothing was wrong and I would weasel it out of her and give her some discreet advice and then she'd call me a dumb football-headed freak and go back into her house and follow my advice.
However, she neither strolled, nor looked troubled; the look on her face was one of pure rage, and she came barrelling out of her house like someone had set fire to her dress.
She was on her feet in an instant and she scowled at me. I wasn't fazed, since she'd been scowling at me for the past six years. I was used to it by now, but I helped where I could, hoping maybe she'd warm up to me a little and tell me about what was bothering her.
This had been my project since preschool, was to get Helga to tell me her problems. She seemed very troubled, and I was interested in helping her out. I looked at her now and she seemed to be having trouble holding her scowl.
"I know you're sorry," she snapped angrily. "Just don't do it again, okay?"
"Do what?" I asked, trying to sound confused. "Walk past your house?"
"Whatever, Arnold." She rolled her eyes. "So do you have some sort of psychic ability that always lets you know where I am? Because it seems like every time I turn around, I bump into you."
"Just lucky, I guess."
This wasn't going at all like I had planned. Oh well, I suppose if all else failed I could take her to Slaucen's and talk about it there.
"I suppose you heard what was going on upstairs, huh, football head?" she said gloomily.
I just watched her out of the corner of my eye and invited her to get an ice cream with me. Surprisingly she agreed and we made our way there.
~*~
--Olga's POV--
As Helga slammed her way out of the house, I had a moment or two to think. I never had wanted to make her angry. I sighed because I had no idea what else to do about her.
It seemed that no matter how hard I tried to be close to her, she kept trying to push me away. I watched all the sisters on TV that had been able to resolve their differences and have a relationship and wistfully imagined what it would be like if Helga would let me be her friend instead of just her annoying sibling.
Looking at the books scattered so randomly upon the floor, I wondered just what the books were; Helga, my baby sister, interested in reading storybooks? It just didn't seem possible.
Picking up one of the books from the box next to me, I pulled back the pink covere to reveal words scrawled across the page. My hands started to shake. These were her journals? Every instinct told me to close the book right now and put it back in the box; they told me to respect her privacy, but my curiosity finally got the better of me. I read the words written on the page.
"You put a spell on me,
And now I'm yours.
Even though a love can't be
I just can't face remorse.
Each time my heart
Beats wild and crazy,
My mind can't think,
It's all so hazy.
And all that I needed to survive
Were these whispers in the night,
Drying my tears, keeping me alive.
And me knowing that you will make it right."
Tears came to my eyes at the beautiful words. It brought such sadness from me. I just couldn't believe that MY little sister hat written THAT beautiful piece of poetry.
Then, a sinking feeling finally took hold of me and brought me back from the world of Helga's poetry. I closed the book and felt tears stinging the backs of my eyes. I put the book back in the box.
I walked out of the room and closed the door gently behind me. Walking to my own bedroom, I again closed the door. And then I lay down on my bed in the dark and wept for what I had done.
A/N: Hmmmm pretty good for a first try, don't you think? Like I said, the poem's mine. So do you like? Dislike? I'm open to opinions ...
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't claim to own, don't hope to own. Hey Arnold = Craig Bartlett. You get the idea. Sue me and I'll pluck your eyes out of their sockets and keep them in a little jar on my shelf. Oh, but the poem is mine, so steal it, and the same thing will happen to you.
Didn't Care Enough
by Maleia L. Rosen
--Helga's POV--
Sifting through the junk in my closet, I came to the undeniably obvious conclusion that I was either going to have to find some more boxes, or sort the various odds and ends into more specific categories. Aparrently, I had way more books of poetry than were going to fit into a single box. Not that I wanted to announce to the world that I had these diaries, so distinguishing between my boxes of books and boxes of journals in such a way that only I would understand the difference was another obstacle I had encountered. I decided a simple change in marker color would be sufficient.
"You finished up there, Olga?" Big Bob called precariously up the stairs. HELGA, I wanted to scream at him, though I chose not to answer aloud. It was on his order that I was cleaning my closet out in the first place. He and Miram had decided that since Olga could manage to keep her room completely immaculate, that there was no reason whatsoever that I should be allowed to continue keeping my room in total disarray. Or to phrase it in Big Bob's words, "Clean that rat-hole out before school's over or you're grounded all summer."
Tomorrow would begin the last week of school and I only needed another hour to finish the job. I had inspected, sorted, thrown away, and thrown away some more. Now only packing the things into the boxes and vacuuming the carpet remained.
"Helga," came Miriam's voice from the doorway. "Your father and I are getting ready to
leave now . . . Be good and listen to your sister, okay honey?"
"Of course Mother, I wouldn't think of having it any other way," I told her, my voice holding the sickeningly sweetness that was anyone's but my own.
Either she didn't notice or didn't care that I was being sarcastic beyond all reason, but in any case she dropped a kiss on my cheek, which was promptly wiped off, and left the room, tossing a final, "Be good, honey! See you Sunday!" over her shoulder.
I snorted and watched out of my window as the car pulled away from the curb, the scene accented with a waving, weeping Olga. It seemed like a scene out of a TV sitcom or something, only more sappy and overemotional. I left the window and went back to my box-packing.
Stacking my full journals in stacks of eight, I finally managed to fill the last box, and, dragging it over to the closet, I taped it up and stacked it on top of the others. Finally pulling out the vacuum cleaner, I hastily vacuumed the rug and called it quits. If Big Bob couldn't be satisfied with that, then he could bite me.
It took me all of about five minutes to re-hang all of my clothes in the closet, hiding the boxes, and to my horror, heard Olga's voice downstairs, accompanied by those of my parents. I hurried over to the window and found our car to be back where it belonged, parallel parked between the red Camero that belonged to the neighbor on the left, and the brown Buick of the neighbor on the right.
I was about to tiptoe to my eavesdropping position on the stairs to find out what they were doing back, but when I opened my bedroom door, I only found myself face-to-face with Big Bob the Beeper King.
Painting a scowl on my face and lacing my voice with disdain, I managed to hide my surprise at seeing him. "What are you doing back?"
His eyes shifted to the stairs where Olga and Miriam seemed to be hurriedly searching for something, and I heard Olga exclaim in distress, "Oh Mummy, where could you have left them?"
I hid a smile as I waited for Bob to answer.
"Ah, your mother forgot the plane tickets," came his gruff reply. "So I thought I'd come up and see if you'd finished the job."
I cringed as he made his way over to my closet door and pulled it open. I prayed he would just look at the neatness on the outside and not search deeper, finding my journals. My prayer was in vain, however, as the last box I had stacked came tumbling out of the closet and the books and last few odds and ends I had stored in there went flying across the floor.
"Crimeny, girl, what am I going to do with you?!" Bob yelled, pulling the clothes aside and pulling out more boxes, dumping their contents out on the floor. "I expect this job done right before Sunday otherwise I'm going to ground you for so long you'll be grateful to see daylight once you're out of your room again." This statement was made as he walked down the hallway and stood at the top of the stairs.
"Olga!" he called. "Come up here, I have a job I want you to do!"
I froze and every muscle in my body tensed up as Bob came back into the room followed by Miss Mary Sunshine herself. My scowl deepened and I sighed heavily. Just what I wanted was Olga in my room, going through my things.
"Now," said Bob. "Olga's going to help you do this job, and this time, I know it'll be done right." He left the room. A few minutes later, Miriam walked into the room.
"Well, girls, I found the tickets, so we're going now ... again." Olga threw her arms around Miriam's neck. I could tell it was all she could do to keep from bursting into those loud, obnoxious baby tears of hers.
"Bye Helga . . .. " Miriam began, but I only nodded in response. She left the room and a few seconds later I heard the front door close and the car start once again. This time they were gone, and I was stuck with the Princess of Priss.
You can tell I'm excited about this, right?
"Well, Baby Sister, we'll have to first straighten up this mess and decide what to keep and what to throw away."
"None of it gets thrown away," I said, trying to sound threatening. "I already got rid of all the trash."
"Ah, a few things my baby sister isn't willing to part with, hm?"
She had that oh-so-nauseating perkiness about the whole situation that made my stomach turn. Why did she have to be so darned arrogent? The fact that she didn't mean to act superior only made me even sicker.
"I told you," I said flatly. "I already threw away all of the trash. Not a single one of these things goes out of here. I mean it."
I headed toward the door.
"Where are you going, Helga?"
"I'm going out. If you want to do this, then do it, but if any of that stuff is gone when I get back, it's your head."
Olga looked a bit hurt at my harsh words. I smiled to myself at breaking her happiness, if only momentarily. I brushed away any guilt I felt about it and closed the door behind me as I left my room.
~*~
--Arnold's POV--
As I passed the Pataki household, I heard Helga, as usual, threatening her sister through the open upstairs window. I stood outside the door, for the simple fact that Helga was inevitably going to be coming out it any second. As the door started to open, I quickly pretended to be walking past.
Before I knew it, she had bumped into me and we both went sprawling on the pavement.
"Sorry Helga," I apologized and reached to help her up. Well this wasn't how I'd planned for it to go. She was supposed to stroll out of the house looking troubled and I was going to say hi and ask her what was wrong. She'd pretend nothing was wrong and I would weasel it out of her and give her some discreet advice and then she'd call me a dumb football-headed freak and go back into her house and follow my advice.
However, she neither strolled, nor looked troubled; the look on her face was one of pure rage, and she came barrelling out of her house like someone had set fire to her dress.
She was on her feet in an instant and she scowled at me. I wasn't fazed, since she'd been scowling at me for the past six years. I was used to it by now, but I helped where I could, hoping maybe she'd warm up to me a little and tell me about what was bothering her.
This had been my project since preschool, was to get Helga to tell me her problems. She seemed very troubled, and I was interested in helping her out. I looked at her now and she seemed to be having trouble holding her scowl.
"I know you're sorry," she snapped angrily. "Just don't do it again, okay?"
"Do what?" I asked, trying to sound confused. "Walk past your house?"
"Whatever, Arnold." She rolled her eyes. "So do you have some sort of psychic ability that always lets you know where I am? Because it seems like every time I turn around, I bump into you."
"Just lucky, I guess."
This wasn't going at all like I had planned. Oh well, I suppose if all else failed I could take her to Slaucen's and talk about it there.
"I suppose you heard what was going on upstairs, huh, football head?" she said gloomily.
I just watched her out of the corner of my eye and invited her to get an ice cream with me. Surprisingly she agreed and we made our way there.
~*~
--Olga's POV--
As Helga slammed her way out of the house, I had a moment or two to think. I never had wanted to make her angry. I sighed because I had no idea what else to do about her.
It seemed that no matter how hard I tried to be close to her, she kept trying to push me away. I watched all the sisters on TV that had been able to resolve their differences and have a relationship and wistfully imagined what it would be like if Helga would let me be her friend instead of just her annoying sibling.
Looking at the books scattered so randomly upon the floor, I wondered just what the books were; Helga, my baby sister, interested in reading storybooks? It just didn't seem possible.
Picking up one of the books from the box next to me, I pulled back the pink covere to reveal words scrawled across the page. My hands started to shake. These were her journals? Every instinct told me to close the book right now and put it back in the box; they told me to respect her privacy, but my curiosity finally got the better of me. I read the words written on the page.
"You put a spell on me,
And now I'm yours.
Even though a love can't be
I just can't face remorse.
Each time my heart
Beats wild and crazy,
My mind can't think,
It's all so hazy.
And all that I needed to survive
Were these whispers in the night,
Drying my tears, keeping me alive.
And me knowing that you will make it right."
Tears came to my eyes at the beautiful words. It brought such sadness from me. I just couldn't believe that MY little sister hat written THAT beautiful piece of poetry.
Then, a sinking feeling finally took hold of me and brought me back from the world of Helga's poetry. I closed the book and felt tears stinging the backs of my eyes. I put the book back in the box.
I walked out of the room and closed the door gently behind me. Walking to my own bedroom, I again closed the door. And then I lay down on my bed in the dark and wept for what I had done.
A/N: Hmmmm pretty good for a first try, don't you think? Like I said, the poem's mine. So do you like? Dislike? I'm open to opinions ...