(Now a more edited chapter and thanks to One Fine Wire for pointing things out to be that were unclear. Also I changed a few minor things like Helga's age down to seventeen and that she has not gone to Dr. Bliss for a year, which will come up later). Hi Everyone. This is my first full length story for Hey Arnold. The title might change, not sure yet. It is taken from the song from the Disney movie, Tarzan, so I do not own that either. I own nothing, but the plot. The characters belong to the brilliant man, Craig Bartlett. I hope you enjoy.
The damp yellow and red autumn leaves broke under white shoes of the seventeen year old tall, pigtailed blonde girl walking down the sidewalk to the Hillwood high school: High Hall. She cursed under her breath as the hem of her blue jeans got soaked from stepping into a large puddle.
She sighed, adjusting her backpack, and mumbled, "Today is just going to be one of those days."
Tightening her grip on her purple raincoat, covering her dark pink shirt, she climbed the stairs and went into the homeroom. As she slid into her chair, she winced from a pain in her side, which had been sitting there for days now, through she could not pinpoint where the pain originated from.
"Morning Helga," an Asian American teenager, Phoebe, said with a soft smile. "How are you?"
Helga shrugged. "Okay I guess."
Phoebe opened her mouth to question her more, but then the morning announcements began to play over the loudspeaker.
Helga smirked to herself as her best friend was lost in absorbing the information, always hungry for knowledge. It always amazed and comforted her that Phoebe, the little genius, had not gone off to some fancy school for talented kids or had not finished school already. Instead, she had stuck by her friends and followed them through the regular levels of education. Though it was difficult for her to admit it, Helga was not certain she could not have survived a lot of what life had thrown at her without Phoebe by her side.
As the announcements continued, Helga found herself surveying the class, which by chance, included a few of the kids she had shared Mr. Simmons 4th grade with. They had all grown in their own ways, each of them finding an outlet for their talents: Ronda was now head of the fashion club and still Ms. Popular with Lila Sawyer. Lila now helped out at animal shelters after school. Gerald was head of the baseball team, and Sid had recently begun to participate in various sports. She smirked as she watched all of them. For many of them, it seemed like they had all just grown taller while maintaining their facial characteristics from their elementary years.
Her gaze continued to roam until they settled on an empty seat set off to the left near one of the windows. Her strong imagination began to conjure an image of cute boy she had once known. She shook her head. Crimmy, even after he's gone, I still think about him.
She looked down at her notebook and found his name and sketches of the football headed boy still filling the pages.
"Helga, are you coming?"
The blonde blinked. "Huh…oh yeah, coming."
She collected her notebooks, stuffing them into her backpack, and hurried after the other students.
The morning went by in its plain routine: homeroom, algebra, English and World History. It all seemed to pass in a blur until lunch. Phoebe had just gone to go get a table while Helga got her food. She was walking over to the right, her journal under her arm, when a familiar voice called out to her.
"Hey, Pataki, I'd thought you join the wrestling team by now. Oh wait I forgot you're the soft, chessy writer." Harold Berman called.
Helga froze, her fingers tightening their grip on her tray. She glanced over her shoulder at the poor sap that dared make fun of her. In vain, she tried to recall her therapist, Dr. Bliss's, advice on these types of situations, but she was no mood today for the boy's stupidity.
Her cerulean eyes narrowed into slits. "What did you say, Pink Boy?"
"I said what are you-?"
He was cut off as Helga gave a quick left hook from her fist nicknamed, Old Betsey. The bigger boy went flying backwards, his chair toppling over onto the floor. Around them, she heard and felt the other students' gasps and gazes upon her, but she ignored them. Her bad mood from the morning had been pushed into a horrifying one.
She stood over the boy and frowned. "You gonna want to take that back before you meet the Five Avengers too."
Harold scrambled to his feet. Her rising frustration mirrored in his eyes as he stood up at his full height. Despite haven been a short and big boy in electuary school, Harold had grown in both size and strength over the years, finally being accepted onto the wrestling team at the high school. His strength and huge physical build made him a formidable figure, but Helga only clenched her teeth in anticipation.
Harold looked at her, his once goofy grin from their childhood, now showing a sign of true menace. "Oh you're gonna be sorry-"
Again, Helga swung at him, but missed. Harold smirked as she kept on trying to smack him around, but his skills on the wrestling team had made him a good dodger from attacks.
"Break it up! Stop this!" the loud voice of the lunchroom lady cried.
Helga jumped at the larger boy, slamming him into the title floor, ignoring the pain in her stomach and the gasps from the other students. Through the chaos, she felt arms reach out and wrap around her waist, pulling her away from the larger kid.
"Calm down, Pataki!" Gerald shouted above her own screams as she tried to get out of his grip.
"Break it up!" the lunchroom lady cried again.
Within five minutes, Helga found herself in the now familiar dark green paneled office of the principal. Her eyes roamed around the sparely set up. Along tow walls, a bookshelf and a gray file cabinet was set below a large window which looked out onto the blacktop. Only the school flag and one or two pictures hanging on the walls gave any color to the small office.
Leaning back in her chair, she thought. You'd think the principal would want to spice the place up a bit.
As though hearing her thoughts, the door opened and the Principal Sam Jackson walked in holding a few folders in his arms. He was dressed in a business suit: a navy jacket, covering a white shirt, and dark pants. Placing the files on top of the cabinet, he glanced over at her, his brown eyes hard.
"Miss Pataki, this is the fourth time this month and second time this week I have seen you in my office for behavior discipline issues with your fighting." Principal Jackson shook his head and sat down at his desk, opposite from her. "What do you have to say for yourself this time?"
Helga sighed, unable to make any of her snarky comebacks. She shrugged her shoulders. "I really don't know, sir, but Harold started it. I was only defending myself."
"Defending yourself like that is only used when physical harm is done. Besides you used that excuse last time and the lunch lady only saw you hit the boy for saying something. Remember the old saying sticks and stones-"
"Yeah, so what's it going to be this time? A month's detention, two months."
"No…as it appears that the dentation does not have any influence on you. I have no choice but to suspend you for a time period of two weeks."
Helga's head snapped up and she leaned in close. Yet, that movement caused her to grit her teeth as a sharp pain cut into her side. She gripped her stomach, but held the principal's gaze. "What about Harold? Isn't he gonna get any kind of punishment?"
"I do not discuss other students' punishments, Miss Pataki." Principal Jackson said before his stern face softened slightly. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, sir. May I go?"
He nodded. "Yes you may. I will be calling your house later to let your parents know what has been going on."
Helga only nodded, but inwardly, she grimaced. The last thing she wanted was a lecture in the trophy room by her workaholic, harsh father, Big Bob. After changing the Beeper Empire into a store that sold cellphones, laptops, MP3 Players, and other technology used by both teenagers and adults, Bob had become even more of an irritable and stressed out man ready to blow at even the smallest things. Shaking her head, Helga pushed back her chair, stood, and headed to the door.
Principal Jackson's voice caused her to pause when she reached the door. "Helga….I would advise going to see the nurse before you head home….you seem a little ill."
"I thought I had to leave school grounds immediately when a person was suspended." Helga said, feeling her old snapping comebacks returning.
"I am just saying I want you to get checked out. Despite the suspension, I do really care for you and don't want to see you hurt. Please tell me you will go get checked out."
Helga's hand rested on the knob as she turned. "Yes, sir."
Before he could say anything else, she slipped out of the office and walked as quickly as she could out into the deserted hallway. The principal's words ran through her mind as she turned to the right, walking in the opposite direction of the nurse's office. The principal's voice echoing in her mind. I do really care for you.
Helga rolled her eyes at the idea. That was a crock! No one truly cared about her wellbeing. While her parents were not the best, neither of them had ever raised a finger against her physically.
Yeah they just forget all about me. She groaned softly, the discomfort in her side kept persisting. Quickly, she walked and went into the bathroom and went over to the sink.
She pulled off her blue hat, which hid a wrinkled pink bow, and bowed her head over the sink. How had it come to this? Her willing and in some cases causing the physical fights on school grounds which seemed to occur more and more. While in elementary school, she had gotten into a few scraps, but had somehow gotten out of them before any lasting physical damage could occur. One episode in particular came to mind as she stared at her reflection.
It had been in elementary school after she had been making fun of girl nicknamed Big Patty. As revenge for her big mouth, Patty had challenged her to fight the next day after school. Helga had been certain the girl would go through her threats even after her poor attempt at an apology. It was not until Patty had taken her into the gym and began to throw punches at a mattress and throw a trash can around without coming close to her that something had changed. Patty had then began to put dirt in her hair to 'make it look good' and told her that the words that had changed her mind had been from another classmate, Arnold.
Her mind froze on his name as an image of the young man swept into her mind, almost projecting itself into the mirror world beside her reflection. Arnold, the crazy idealist, calm, and thoughtful football headed boy who had captured her attention and love even at the tender age of three. He had been the first person to show her an once of kindness when he complimented her on the bow she wore when they were outside their preschool. As the saying goes, the rest was history. Over the course of their elementary years, her love for the boy had only grown stronger. At points, some might have said her love could have been classified as an obsession.
She had stuck by him through thick and thin, even defying her own family on multiple occasions to help her beloved all while keeping her deep feelings hidden beneath her tough exterior. She had finally confessed her feeling for him on top of FYI building in the midst of trying to save the neighborhood from being torn down. After the city had been saved, Arnold had allowed her to keep some dignity in agreeing that her crazy confession had only happened in the heat of the moment. She had been grateful, but then the doubt began to set in. What if Arnold never returned her feelings?
Finally, in the next few months, those feelings had been reciprocated in the dense jungles of the Central American country of San Lorenzo. The whole class had gone on a trip and Arnold was finally reunited with his long lost parents.
Her hands gripped the edge of the counter, lost in the happy memories of their early courtship after they had returned. After years of pinning and heartbreak over the boy, they were together as a real couple. It had been pure heaven. Lost in her memories, she shifted and let out a soft yelp of pain. She blinked, brought back to the present.
Again, she found herself staring at the mirror at the imagined Arnold. He was standing off a little in the distance, but still with his hopeful smile and watchful green eyes. Helga's heart tightened the longer she gazed. Arnold had always been there for her even if she only picked on him. He always was there to catch her when she fell…..or at least he had been. Arnold's image faded, leaving her alone once more.
She sniffled, the glint of tears in her eyes shining in the reflection. Her mind turned to their dramatic break up almost five years ago. Ever the gallant hero of her dreams, he had held her and promised they could still be friends and that they could write to each other even though he was leaving for distant lands. He had kept that promise and so had she. Her thoughts wondered to the unsent letters she had written to him over the years, safely tucked away in neat binders.
Over the last few years, he had written her as well, telling her of the humanitarian work he did with his new found parents. His descriptions of all the different countries he traveled in seemed to heighten her own imagination each time she reread his letters which were also kept safe in binders. Sometimes, she had even written poems inspired by his stories. Combined with her imagination, the unseen worlds they created were limitless.
A small smile curled onto her face as idea for a verse of poetry came to mind. She threw off her backpack and grabbed one of her notebooks and scribbled the line down. As she closed the book, she recalled one of her most precious memories with Arnold when he had caught her writing down one of her stanzas when she was over at the old boarding house where he lived.
"What are you doing there, Helga?" the tall fourteen year old boy asked, coming into the dining room.
Helga gulped and hurriedly finished writing the verse. She glanced over at him and smirked. "None of your business, Football head."
Arnold smirked and sat down in a chair. "You know I don't know why you don't turn your poetry into songs?"
Again, she looked over at him, her eyes wide as though he had two heads. "What are you talking about?"
"I mean did you ever think about joining a band or becoming a real song writer?"
Helga scuffled and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that'd work out."
Arnold reached out and grabbed her hand. His touch sent shivers of delight through her, making her wanting to melt into his arms. She swore whenever he touched her so softly that she would go along with any of his ideas.
She gazed at him uncertainty. "Do you really think so, Arnold?"
He smiled, his perfect smile, and nodded. "I do, Helga. Show the world who you are through your words."
Again, she rolled her eyes. "Yeah right."
"I'm serious, Helga. And you never know unless you try." He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.
A halfhearted smile spread across her face as the memory faded. The notion was still one of his crazy ideas, but she cherished it. When he had suggested it, it was because he had honestly thought she would be good and trying to encourage her. His encouragement and strength was what she missed most when they had broken up and Arnold had moved away with his parents.
Still, the idea amused her. Arnold, a song writer yeah right, she thought with a smirk.
Suppressing a girlish giggle at the thought, she picked up her bag and left the school. The gray clouds had been driven away allowing the sun to warm the day with its rays. She spent the afternoon walking around the large park in the center of the city, listening to the music and writing some more poetry.
The pain in her stomach had been became a dull, annoying ache, but she ignored it, allowing herself to enjoy the now sunny afternoon. Any sensible girl would have gone home and just lounged around, but the house was even more of an empty tomb than it had been since Mariam had been attending her AA meetings and working at a TV station over the last few years.
Instead, Helga found solace in long walks with her music and her trust journal and purple pens. Her soul seemed to drink in the melodies of the music, mostly recommended by Arnold, and felt the inspiration flow from her fingertips to the page of her muumuus volumes that filled her closet. So, lost was she in work that she barely noticed as the day continued to wear on until the sun was just beginning to lower over the horizon.
She growled and cursed under her breath. "Damn, where did the time go?"
She had planned to be home in time to get the message from the Principal and delete it before her parents found out about her suspension. Pulling the earphones out and tucking the iPod into her coat pocket, she began to trudge back through the park toward home.
The pale blue house had not changed at all, though the occupants of it had certainly changed however slightly. With a heavy sigh, she climbed the small flight of stairs to the door. The door creaked on rusty hinges as she opened it.
"Who's there?"
Helga frowned as she moved over the staircase. She had thought she had beat Big Bob home, but like always the world seemed to be working against her. He heard her and there no point in trying to pretend otherwise. His voice seemed to echo within the silent hallways of the house, unable to be ignored.
Gripping the railing, she said, "Relax, Bob, it's me, Helga."
The Beeper King stomped into the foyer. His eyes blazed with annoyance as he stared at her, pointing an accusing finger at his youngest daughter. "Hold it right there, little Lady. Trophy Room pronto."
Helga rolled her eyes and reluctantly, slowly, marched down the stairs and into the large living room. Instantly, her eyes fell on the far wall where muumuus trophies, all won by her perfect older sister Olga, were set. She could only remember a small stretch of time where Olga had actually disappointed their father. After years of being the perfect daughter, getting straight A+s through all levels of school, Olga had come home and announced that she was changing careers from being a teacher to a classic actress on off, off off off off Broadway productions. For her next four months, the whole family had been on thin ice as they watched the brewing conflict between father and oldest daughter after rejection after rejection came from all of the auditions.
Three years ago, on June twelfth, Olga received a callback and had landed a role in the chorus in a new musical. The musical itself had folded after a few weeks, but Olga's acting career had taken off and since then she had stared in a number of famous and successful plays and musicals. With each new role, Olga had returned to being the apple of Bob's eye as he bragged about her success to anyone would listen. The date in June had almost become another holiday within the household in celebrating Olga's new success.
She had even had the fortune of meeting her co-star fiancé, David, of six months while preforming in one her shows. It still amazed Helga that someone would put up with Olga's perfectionism and over emotional state at times. Though the young brunette guy was ten times better than her last fiancée named Doug who had been a con artist. Olga and Adam were planning to be wed in two months, having a January, New Year, wedding.
Narrowing her eyes, Helga shifted her attention away her from her overbearing sister and sat down on the couch. Again, she winced, shifting her hand from her side to the middle as though the pain itself was moving. Crimmy, what is going on? It feels like a knife in my stomach. Ouch!
Her thoughts were interrupted as Bob entered the room. Even after all these years, he still wore the familiar green shirt and brown pants. The only difference was the few grays hairs that had begun to show though he argued with anyone who claimed he was getting too old for the job as the King of his store's empire.
Sitting on the couch, Helga still had to look up at him; his large, intimidating figure seeming to fill the whole room as he leaned over her. "You know who called me at work today?"
Helga attempted to shrug off the accusing tone, feigning innocence. Though inwardly she scolded herself and cursed the principal. Why had he had to call her dad's work? Bob would have found out eventually.
"Your principal called me and said you were suspended, is that true?"
She only nodded.
His voice held in his pent frustration. "What was going on through that head of yours?"
Helga frowned as she felt his spit hit her face. Wiping it away, she said, "Hey it wasn't my fault, Bob. The other guy was being a jerk and-"
"I don't care about that. You know that we Patakis have our reputations to protect." Bob pushed himself away from the couch and began to pace the room.
"Yeah I know, Bob. Oh God forbid we do anything to miss it up."
"That's right. God knows I've been trying to keep things under wraps by paying your therapy bills over the years."
Involuntary, Helga scuffed. Ever since she had been old enough, she had been paying those bills herself by forging his name as he was too preoccupied with work or Olga. Though she had dropped going to the seasons since last year, feeling that it no longer helped her.
Bob paused and narrowed his eyes. "What was that, little Lady?"
"Nothing." Helga crossed her arms.
When Bob was in this state of irritability the quicker it was over the better. She listened and watched as Bob resumed pacing in front of her, without comment as he continued on his vent of her bringing disgrace on the family name and comparing her to his perfect angel of an older daughter.
Suddenly, she clenched her stomach, her eyes clamping shut in an attempt to dull the pain. It felt like her insides had just exploded. She groaned. "Ugh…."
Even with her eyes shut, she felt the world spinning around her. She called for her father's attention, but the voice seemed to come from someone else as she curled up on the couch, fighting the agony swimming inside her.
"Hey Bob…Bob….ouch…" Tears poured down her face as she drew in a deep breath. "Dad!"
She heard him stop his venting and turn to her. Through the pain, she imagined him kneeling next to her, his massive hands gripping her shoulders and shaking her; his eyes wide with panic. His voice was strained with uncertainty and terror. "Olga….Talk to me girl, come on now." Her body shook more violently and she screamed as the agony grew, twisting inside her. "Helga….Helga speak to me! What's wrong….?"
Bob's powerful voice and the feel of his arms around her faded away as she slipped into darkness.
XxX
Bob gawked at his youngest daughter, his body numb with shock. His mind reeled with muumuus possibilities of what caused her to behave in such a way. Again, he shook her in a vain attempt to bring her back. What had just happened? Her screams had sent a cold chill through him, unable to know the correct way to help her from pain she was enduring without knowing the source. The chime of the clock signaling five o'clock broke him out of his trance as he reached for his cell phone. His hand shook as his fingers pressed the two keys - 911.
"What's your emergency?" a female voice asked.
"My kid just screamed in pain and collapsed. I need a freaking ambulance right now."
"Sir, can you tell me what happened?"
"I don't know, damn it just bring an ambulance here!"
"Sir, please calm down. The ambulance will be there in-"
"Bah!" He flipped the phone shut and stuffed it into a back pocket. It would be quicker to take her to the infirmary himself. Yet again, his eyes fell on his suffering child and carefully he picked the girl up off the couch. Awkwardly cradling her in his large arms, he moved out to the hallway, outside, got them both into his car, and began to drive off toward the hospital. His knuckles tightened on the wheel as swerved in and out of traffic, anxiously looking at the small green numbers, cursing each time the number rose. How long could she go without medical attention?
Horns blew and people cursed as he cut them off, but he ignored them all. The tires of the car squeaked as he turned into the small parking garage near the hospital. Quickly, he got out and carried her in through the sliding doors, his heart hammering in his chest.
"I need a doctor now!" Bob bellowed as he rushed into the lobby.
"What's wrong?" a black haired nurse dressed in white uniform asked. She looked at the girl, checking her pulse.
Bob narrowed her eyes. "Damn if I know, but she was gripping her stomach and she's not really breathing. Do something!"
The nurse nodded, waving her hand for someone to come aid her. "All right, let's get her into the examining room. Pat take her."
A young male nurse came running with a cot on wheels, the technical name escaped Bob's mind. As Helga was laid out on the cot, his thick fingers ran through her rough combed blonde locks. Outwardly, she resembled his oldest, the prodigy, but in that moment he saw her as an individual…an ungrateful and spiteful brat at times, but still a Pataki through and through.
As they began to roll her away, he gripped her small hand and muttered. "Now you listen here, Little Lady, you can get through this, you hear me."
Another soft groan escaped her lips.
He felt a hand rest upon his shoulder as the small medical team rolled her through a set of white double doors.
"Sir, I'm going to need you to fill these papers out."
Bob turned and saw the brunette nurse holding a clipboard out to him. He took the clipboard and flipped through a few blue and green pages. "What's this?"
"We need some information on your daughter to enter into our system."
"Wait." He looked up at her. "Don't you guys have that in your fancy new computer systems? Just plug in her name."
The nurse shook her head. "The program still has some bugs we need to work out and your daughter hasn't been admitted to this hospital before. We also need specifics that the databases can't give us yet."
Bob waved his hand. "Okay, okay, I'll go fill this out, but just tell me she is getting taken care of."
"Yes, sir. The doctors are prepping for surgery as we speak."
"Surgery?"
"Yes. Now, sir, don't worry. She is in the best hands in the city. Please try and fill these out and tell when if you have any questions or when you are done."
Bob nodded, glanced over at the double doors again before he moved over to a corner and sat down. How hard could a few questions be? He plucked the pen from its slot on top and began to fill out the first few sections. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he looked down at the chart. Name, age, birth date where easier to remember. Yet, those other questions of medical history were a blur. How was he meant to answer any of them? He vaguely recalled her once telling him that she was allergic to strawberries one of the rare times they had gone shopping together, but nothing else came to mind. He needed help. He pulled out his cell and dialed the TV station, asking for his wife.
"What is it, B?" Mariam asked when she got on the line.
Bob's heart grew heavy. Without the slurred speech from her smoothies, she sounded like the women he had fallen in love with all those years ago. Her AA meetings and job were going so well now…how could he mess it up now? Still, he knew he needed to be with him now. Robbing his hand behind his neck, he told her where he was, concisions of every word he spoke to prevent her from reverting back into her old broken self. When he finished, there was a long pause. For a moment, he thought she might have fainted from the news.
Then the response came. "I'll be right there."
The line went dead.
Once more, Bob flipped the phone shut and leaned back in the chair.
Within ten minutes, he heard her voice calling his name. Bob looked up, spotting her as she entered the lobby. Her dark pink suit was undone while her hair hung limp around her shoulders. Her blue eyes were wide with panic as she rushed down the hall; the heels of her shoes clicking rapidly against the title floor. He stood and called out to her. She paused, turned, and ran into his arms.
"Bob, where is she?" Mariam cried, her eyes searching his face. "Where is my little girl? Tell me!"
"I don't know what happened, but" he shifted and grabbed her arms, his eyes locking with hers. "The girl…Helga will be fine. It's gonna be all right!"
Mariam gave a weak nod. "I…think I'll go get some….coffee."
He nodded and asked one of the nurses to escort Mariam done to the cafeteria
When she returned, they spent the next few hours answering the questions on the forms and cradling each other. The clock above the front desk seemed to be stuck on the same time, suspending the couple into strange reality where time stood still. They had been told the diagnosis of her condition. Mariam had burst into tears and if possible held onto him harder than before.
Yet, soon even that vanished from their minds too consumed with apprehension of hearing news from the actual surgery. Finally, the double doors swung and an older African American doctor walked out and called their name.
Bob stood up, his arm still wrapped protectively around his wife's waist. "Well…what is it?"
The doctor gave a halfhearted smile. "Your daughter is one lucky girl, Mr., Mrs. Pataki."
"Can…we see her?" Mariam asked quietly from beside him.
The doctor nodded. "Yes, she is resting and coming out of surgery, but she will be moved to room 403 where you can go see her and be there for her when she actually wakes up from all the medicine."
"Thanks, Doc." Bob said, shaking the man's hand with a firm grip.
The doctor nodded and excused himself, perhaps to attend to another family. Bob felt Mariam's hand slid into his as they began the slow walk up the stairs to the fourth floor.
(New Note) Thank you again One Fine Wire for pointing out that I was not as clear about Bob as I thought. So, I hope these small added changes make things clearer now. (End New Note). I hope you enjoyed it and please leave a review and let me know what you think if I should continue or not? And please if you guess or know what's wrong with Helga please don't put it into the review cause it might spoil it for others. I have never done Bob Pataki as a character so was please let me know if I got it or not when writing him. Thank you. :)