Getting Close to Somewhere

by mikoto lee

This is a set of stories written in alternating first person point-of-views, between Arnold and Helga, set during their senior year in high school. It’s a little vague but give it a shot…

Disclaimer: Hey Arnold! Is not mine. Although I wish it was.

A/N: "POV" means "Point of View". This story alternates between Arnold's and Helga's POV.

"Getting Close to Somewhere"
by Mikoto Lee

Chapter 1: Falterings

Helga's POV:

I don't know what's worse, me going to live with a family, who are supposed to care but doesn't care about me or me having to stay in a place where I have to deal with people who shouldn't care and doesn't all. But I suppose it's too late to think about that now.

Right now, I'm standing in front of a mirror face-to-face with an image I've grown to dislike over the years. The image before me was scowling back, wet long blond tendrils stuck to its pale face while blank blue eyes blinked. The image I am greeted with was not a pleasant one. I hated how I looked like. At seventeen years old, way pass the usual blossoming stages, I still looked liked the way I did when I was nine. Meaning, I still looked like the ugly little girl and my stupid dark thick eyebrows made me look even worse. At seventeen I still am totally unfeminine and different from all the girls my age, who spend ages putting on make just so as to look like they're not wearing any.

The reflection in the mirror gives me a conspiratory smile.

Whoever said I was one of those girls. I have never been THE 'It Girl'. I've always been the ugly tomboy whose face matched her attitude.

But sometimes I get tired of being me all the time. Sometimes I think that maybe I should do something about my appearance and look a little bit more nicer. My eyes stray down to the package by the sink and I to get the courage to start some sort of change but in the end, I just ended up chickening out of the challenge of actually picking it up and continuing with my 'plan'. I sigh and reach down to pick up a pink ribbon to tie my hair with. With one hand I gather my wet hair into a ponytail while the other hand is ready to tie the ribbon. I scowl at my image in the mirror.

I really do not like what I see.

A long time ago, I've accepted the fact that I'm not like every other girl. I'm not pretty. I'm not outgoing. I'm not the kind of person anyone would actually like to be with. There is absolutely nothing I can do to change that. But somewhere at the back of my mind, I hear another side of me shamelessly taunting me for being such a wimp and not daring to change. I try to shut out that annoying voice but the more I tried to do so, the harder it screamed for attention. And maybe that's why I thought up of this 'plan'...

Again, my eyes dart downward to a small package at the sink. A stab of apprehension come over me.

What was I thinking when I bought 'those'? Why did I waste, perfectly good money for something that I probably just throw away when I could have bought something else that I would actually use. Was I actually that gullible that think that after this 'plan', everything would be different. And God…what would people say? What would people think? Would they think I'm worse off than usual? Would they think I had such gall to actually to something 'nice' to myself? Would they…

Damn!

For some reason I seem to catch myself think. It was weird…I mean it was still me thinking right? So how can I actually catch 'me' in the process of doing so? That's another thing I hate about myself. I think way too much. Too much for my age that sometimes I feel like my brain would shut down and I'll have a heart attack. Then again I guess that would be much the better. I'd rather be dead than go through the getting-out-of-bed-its-a-brand-new-day routine.

I can laugh at the irony of it all. I'm living such a miserable life and I continue to live. Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment. Maybe in my past life I did really something horrible to deserve all this. Maybe in this life I'm just paying amends for past mistakes that I've done... I'm not your regular cherub, you know. I've done a lot of nasty stuff in my life and suffered its consequences. But my life wasn't really fair to begin with.

I just wish that something good would come out of all of this crap I've put up with.

Yeah right.

Impulsively, I throw my pink ribbon and reach for the package by the sink. That's it! I've got to stop thinking about what other's think and its time to just act. My hand loosen its grip on my hair letting the wet long blond strands flop ungracefully to my shoulders till my mid back. I shiver involuntarily as my wet hair began to seep through the fabric of my shirt, chilling my skin.

I reach for the package's contents, a small box and some scissors. I take the scissors and I grip it tightly, making my knuckles turn white. I move the scissors to my hair and I bite my bottom lip in fear and anticipation. All my life, I've had long hair. I can't remember a single instance that I've actually changed the length of my hair. But I am today. Right now, I'm sick of having long hair. With the first snip, I close my eyes since I'm afraid to look. I feel some loose strands fall imply across my shoulder while I know the others would tumble down to the floor.

Slowly, I open my eyes and I am greeted with the image of a girl with an uneven haircut. The first thing I felt was disappointment. I kind of thought that once I've begun this I'd look different…but it was still 'me' staring back from that mirror. It was still that ugly girl. Another thought comes to mind and I chuckle lightly to myself. How can I possibly expect such a big change by just taking out a snippet of hair? With a small smile I continue the task of cutting the rest of my hair. I no longer feel anything as I continue. I don't feel regret, sadness, nor anticipation…no nothing.

I work quickly and soon, the once long haired girl from the mirror now had her hair cropped short just barely reaching her chin with bangs covering most of her forehead and that dreaded eyebrow. Of course, my handiwork wasn't perfect. This is the first time I've actually taken the initiative to do this myself. It wasn't a perfect cut but it will do. But my job was not yet over yet.

After placing the scissors back to the sink, I reach for the box. Turning it over, I see a beautiful smiling model with dark burgundy colored hair flashing a row of pearly white teeth, looking as if she didn't have a single care in the world. I wonder if its how I would be after this transformation? Transformation? Perfect?

Nah…not in a million years.

It's funny that I still think like a hopeless idiot when I fully know the reality of my unblessed boring life. But then again, I can still hope can I? Deep down, I know this change-thing I'm going though is a sign of that hope. It's an idealistic fantasy that somewhere…

"Helga?"

Startled, I drop the box and its contents came skidding down the slippery bathroom floor. I silently curse as I saw the mess in the bathroom. The bathroom was wet and soapsuds seemed to float everywhere. Some hair was attempting to clog the sink while the rest was a messy heap on the wet tiles.

There were a few short knocks on the floor and that familiar voice rang again. "Helga? Are you in there?"

Once that voice and its owner had so much power over me. It could reduce me to a stuttering moron who writes sickeningly sweet love poems. It could burn up from the inside and let my anger and agitation burst like a volcano. But now, it means nothing. Or at least I'm trying to convince myself that it means nothing. I do know for sure that I'm nearly halfway there.

"Yeah? What?" I snapped, annoyed at his interruption. I walk over and pick up the contents of the open box and place them by the sink.

"I was just wondering if you're okay in there." The voice faltered.

"I'm still talking to you right, football head?" I drop my eyes to the floor, embarrassed by his concern and angered at the same time that it means nothing other than his usual I-want-to-help-everyone attitude. "Why should I not be okay?"

"It's quite late and…"

"I'll be done shortly."

"It's just that you've missed dinner and I've saved up something for you. So just in case you're hungry there's food at the kitchen."

How many times have I told him that I won't eat dinner here? How many times did I tell him not to bother waiting up for me? Sometimes I wish he would just leave me alone. I am touched by his concern and annoyed by it at the same time. I hate it every time he does this to me whenever I think I don't care about him or anyone anymore. Sometimes I feel that if he dropped that concern, I will find it easier to deal with him. But then again, his concern probably meant something else. He probably wanted me to do something beneficial around here like wash dishes or something. Yeah that's it. He probably left those things so I can contribute some help around this place.

"Okay." I say in my typical gruff manner. "Don't worry about me, I'll take care of the dishes later."

"That's not what…"

"Yeah whatever, football head." I mutter through gritted teeth. "I'll take care of everything."

There was a pause from the other side of the door. Then I could swear I heard him sigh and I hated the guilt that I felt at that moment. "All right. Goodnight Helga. I'll see you tomorrow."

I don't say anything in reply. Somehow, I knew that he would still be there waiting for me to say something and I hated him more for that. After a few moments of silence, from both of us, I hear footsteps going away from the door. Once I knew he was completely gone, I sink down to the floor and rest my head in my hands not caring about the wet tiles soaking my jeans.

For what could be the millionth time, I ask myself what the heck am I doing here? A month ago, I was faced with the decision I thought I could handle. Now, I'm having second thoughts.

A few years back Big Bob had a big business opportunity to expand his beeper empire to something much bigger. He immediately jumped upon the opportunity to get out of this old broken down place. I refused to move at that time and I barely managed to convince Big Bob that I needed to stay. Eventually, Big Bob decided that Miriam should stay with me for a while so I will have some kind of supervision. Olga didn't really care so much since she was too busy trying to be an actress. Miriam was too stone drunk to have the idea register in her head. So he left just like that. He still sent back money but he rarely visited since he was so busy at work.

But when Miriam became a little bit sick since her 'problem' got out of hand. Big Bob planned on taking Miriam to a more modern hospital to help her cope. That meant Miriam and I had to move. I think he got really pissed when I told him I didn't want to go for the second time. It's not like I have some strange attachment to this city, if there was any before there certainly was none now. I just wanted to stay here a little longer to be able to finish my studies. After all I'll be graduating this year. I didn't want to start all over again in a new school and then have Big Bob ruling every bit of my life the moment I graduate. My staying in this place was the first step I took to actually being free.

I thought living alone was bound to be better than living with anyone from my family. There was no overbearing Big Bob, no stoic Miriam and most of all no perfect princess Olga. But it surprises me that I think about my family a lot. It's not that I miss them. What's there to miss anyway? It's just that I'm not really used to be totally alone. What a laugh. How can I not be used to it when I've been totally alone for all my life. Maybe I can rephrase that by saying I'm not used to being with total strangers.

Or at least that's how I thought about it.

I'm now 90% independent and money wasn't a problem. Big Bob sends in my allowance every month. It doesn't really matter that my allowance is enough only to last for two weeks. I don't spend a lot on myself and I've learned how to budget my expenses. I can always get a few part-time jobs just in case I need more cash. The problem was I didn't have any place to stay.

And that's where football head comes in.

"Heeeey…what wrong with the door?" A whinny voice rang and I see the doorknob shake. "Heeey Arnold! There's something wrong with the door! How come there's always something wrong around here?"

I push myself up, stalk towards the door and violently yank it open. "There's nothing wrong with the door, Kakoshka. Quit bothering people!" I glare at the middle aged man outside.

"Who the hell are you?" Oscar blinked in surprise for a moment. "What you doing here? And I want to use the bathroom!" He whined again.

Agitated, I slam the door at his face and lock it. Oscar continued to pound on the door making quite a racket. I knew if I don't shut him up now he'd probably wake up the whole neighborhood. "Look, why don't you use the bathroom at your place!"

"Bathroom at my place?" Oscar's voice sounded confused and I could swear the guy has probably busted a few more brain cells just trying to think about it. "Oh yeah. I have one in my place…hehehe…"

I mutter a string of choice curses under my breath before stalking back to the sink. Unlike Oscar, I didn't have the privilege of having my own bathroom since I only have enough money to get a single room without anything. Therefore, I got to use the bathroom within the hallway.

My plan has been stalled long enough but interuptions from my thoughts and from the outside. I know its getting late. I should finish up by now and get some rest since I have an early day tomorrow. Picking up the bottle, I unscrew the cap while reading the back of the box for directions. This is the first time, I'll be doing something like this and I didn't want to mess up. Of course, I didn't want to show up the next day looking like an absolute monster.

But then again…who cares?

ARNOLD'S POV:

I can't believe I'm waking up this early on a Saturday. It's only 4:30 in the morning and here I am standing outside the porch, feeling the morning chill seep through my bones and the air is thick due to the omnipresent smog. There is something about the early morning atmosphere that seems so surreal and I find myself reminiscing about the past.

A few years back, I finally found my parents, or rather, they finally found time to contact me. It turns out that they were quite busy working at some urgent government project and they didn't have time to do anything else. Of course I was ecstatic, that I can finally meet them so I left Sunset Arms to be with them. After a year, I heard some devastating news that my grandpa had passed away. It was all too sudden and I had to return back. A few months later, my grandma followed. It was then that I finally decided to stay in Sunset Arms, rather than go back to my parents. After all this was where I belong right?

Involuntarily, a shiver worked its way down my spine, breaking me out of my reverie. I pull my jacket closer to myself. And I ask myself what am I doing here again.

One answer: Helga G. Pataki.

Normally, I wouldn't even bother to think about Helga. But I guess, right now I don't have much choice on the matter. She is now a part of my life, whether I like it or not.

I've known her for a long time since preschool. But she's changed so much from what I remember. During the fourth grade, Helga was the ultimate bully who loved to torture me. By the time high school came around, she no longer wanted to bask in the spotlight or get the biggest roles. Right now, she went out of her way to avoid everyone. I hardly see her at all in school except in classes that we share together. I also don't seem to recall a single instance that I spoke to her outside class.

It also seems like she grew out of her friends. She no longer hung out with Phoebe or anyone else from the old gang. She just kept to herself, constantly staying away from people or just scribing something down in her notebook. Well, that can be explained partly due to the fact that Gerald and Phoebe became an official couple by the sixth grade and practically spent all of their time together and Helga didn't seem to have any other friends than Phoebe.

At first, I was relieved that she didn't bother me anymore. Without Helga constantly breathing down my neck, I was able to act more freely without fear of having to endure one of her sarcastic remarks. Life had become quite peaceful and I've begun to enjoy it a little more. And Lila and I did become a couple again, just right after I got back.

A big surprise came to me, during the end of summer and just before senior year started. Helga showed up at the doorstep of Sunset Arms together with a couple of old suitcases. She asked me then if there was any available room to be rented. At that time, Sunset Arms was fully booked and I still had all the previous boarders. I asked her why she wanted to get a place here all of a sudden and all she told me was that her family had moved. I had this feeling that there was something more to it than just that. There was something that those blank blue eyes were not telling me. So, I cleared up one of the bigger storage rooms so she could stay there. The room was not much and was barely furnished but she didn't say a word about the room and just accepted it.

She's been with us now for about a month but one would hardly notice it at all. Helga never joined us for meals or even went out to watch TV or read a book in the common rooms. Hardly anyone saw her leave or enter her room. Some of the other boarders are beginning to dub her as "Ms. Smith" since she was much like one of the other elusive boarders. Sometimes I'd drop by to check on how she was doing only find that she was not there. Her room looked as if no one lived there and her bed appeared not to have been slept in at all. In fact, even if I share the same school with her, I don't even get to see her go to school.

Call me strange or maybe I'm just natural worrier but I wonder what's her problem her all of a sudden. So I guess, that's what I'm doing right now. I'm waiting for her to come out of Sunset Arms and talk. Since I do know that she's never around, specially on weekends, I wanted to catch her before she could leave.

I hear a slight click and speaking of the devil, I her opening the front door with her eyes downcast. "Helga?" I say, as she closed the door behind her. I see freeze with back towards me. She was wearing a black ski hat over her head and a dark heavy jacket plus jeans. On her shoulder was a tattered maroon backpack.

"Helga?" I repeat. "What are you doing up this early?" I stand up from the porch steps.

I hear her sigh before turning to face me. "I could say the same thing about you football head."

I blink. There was something about her that seemed a little bit off. I take another step closer to see and I could see her flinch a little at my nearness. Then suddenly, it hits me. Helga's bangs were colored red.

"What did you do to your hair?" I blurt out before having to think and I'm worried that she'll suddenly punch me at the nose. But no punches came, only silence.

"Nothing..." Helga looked down on the floor and shuffled her feet. "What's it to you?"

"Can I see it?" I say again, without thinking. What is it with me today, anyway? Have I suddenly developed foot-in-mouth disease?

For a few moments, Helga just stood there giving me a weird look before pulling out the ski hat and her hair came tumbling out of the wool hat. Her hair was now a mauve of dark browns and reds. Other than dying her hair, she sported a short sloppy cut hairstyle. From my point of view, the change was quite remarkable. The person that stood before me didn't seem like Helga at all or at least the Helga that I do remember. It was like seeing a new person all together.

I waited for her to ask me what I thought about her hair, just like Lila did whenever she had a makeover or had something new. But there was only silence on Helga's part. I cleared my throat again this time getting uncomfortable. "Uh…it's nice."

Again she gave me that weird look, as if I grew another head. Then she just shrugged her shoulders and placed the wool ski hat back on her head. "Yeah, whatever." She muttered before walking down the porch.

"Hey! Wait!" I followed. "Where are you going?"

"None of your business, football head."

I fall into step with her but she only kept her gaze straight ahead. "I was just wondering if you needed a ride. I can probably bring you to wherever you are going. It's still too early, I don't think the buses are around yet and the subway is still closed."

Again, no answer and I'm running out of things to say. We stay like that for a while, just walking down the street without saying a word to each other but I can feel the tension between us, as if it was some kind of barbed wire.

"Look," Her voice startles me out of another one of my ponderings. "I'm just going to work, okay. No big deal."

"Oh." I say quietly. "Is that why you seem so busy most of the time?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"So where do you work?"

Helga gives another long-suffering sigh. "In the city. I'm working part-time. Bad shifts but it helps pay the rent."

"Oh." I look down. "I guess I'll see you later at dinner or something."

"Don't bother. I'll just grab something to bite there."

"Okay."

I stop walking and she maintains her own pace, moving father away from me. I wanted to say a lot more than that. I wanted to get her to open up to me and tell me what's wrong. And now, I begin to wonder why I can hardly get to say a word to her and my vocabulary has been greatly reduced into "Oh's", "Okay's" and all those stupid falterings.

I look up to see that she's now quite far from me.

"Well, have a nice day." I call out to her, letting my voice drift down the lonely desolate street. She doesn't look back but I see her hesitate for a moment and she lifts one hand in a small goodbye gesture.

As I watch her disappear around the corner, I realize that now more than ever that I never really knew Helga Pataki at all.

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A/N: This is my first fan fiction story for Hey Arnold! Comments and criticism are very welcome. Was this chapter too weird? Too short? Too disorganized? I plan on making things clearer by the next part. Thanks for reading.