If You Feel Like Letting Go

To put it in short terms, what is up with all of these Helga-suicide things? They are everywhere! Personally, I think that Helga is way to strong for that kind of thing, but then I also see that she gets hurt a lot, too. So... why not combine my beliefs with some extra stuff in it? This is just a one-shooter, but there you are. The title comes from 'Hold On' by Good Charlotte. You should see the video. I know it kind of dives into it very quickly, but I'm making this one part and it has a lot to go through. This is possibly my least insanity-driven fic, okay? Cool.

I do not own "Hey, Arnold!" or any characters, names, or items from the cartoon. I also do not own 'Hold On'. Good Charlotte and whatever their record company is do.

This World Is Cold


"So, Helga," said Phoebe. "Do you want to go over to my house to study for our Algebra assessment tomorrow?"

Helga and Phoebe were walking down the front stairs of their middle school, on their way home after another stressful day. Helga bit her lip and replied naturally, "No, Pheebs. I'm going to go home and do my work. I just..." She sighed, plainly. "I just think I can do it better alone."
Phoebe nodded, understanding that lately, Helga had been wanting to have more and more alone time. She still didn't know what the problem was, though. Helga seemed quite cheerful.

Apparently, her mother had started to pack her lunch or give her enough money for one, and she always got to school on time. However, she noticed that she was tired a lot by their third period, and almost always fell asleep during fifth period.

"Oh, look," Phoebe said, thinking seriously about something, but not letting it show. "There's my ride." She pointed toward a blue SUV and silver PT Cruiser.
Lifting an eyebrow, Helga said, "But your car isn't there."

"That's because it's behind the SUV," she answered quickly. "You can't see it from your angle, okay, I've got to go now, good luck on the test, bye!" She turned and started running to the area she had pointed to.

Left behind and still raising her eyebrows, Helga stared after her. "Gerald is making her weirder and weirder," she concluded, and walked on.

!@#$%^&*()_+{}:"?!@#$%^&*()_+{}:"?

"Okay, Phoebe, why did you ask us to meet you behind a bush in front of our school?" asked Gerald, crouching down and trying to get a branch out of his hair.

Phoebe, Gerald, and Arnold were all squatting down a few yards from the school. The woman of the group said, "Listen, guys, I know that you don't usually partake in conversing with Helga much anymore--"

"You got that right," snorted Gerald.

Arnold elbowed him in the ribs and glared at him. "Shut up," he mumbled. He turned his gaze toward Phoebe. She looked a mixture of worry, desperation, and curiosity, all stirred into seriousness. "What's the deal with her?" he asked concernedly.

Phoebe exhaled, searching for words. "I think that there is something the matter with her. I don't know what, which is why I asked for your assistance."

Now Gerald was interested. "What do you mean," he asked, "our 'assistance'?"

"I have a plan to find out what is wrong," she said simply. "We are going to espionage. We're going to follow her and see why everything seems so cheerful with her, yet she's always tired, over-burdened, and et cetera. We're going to start at her house and--"

"Sorry for interrupting," Arnold said, "but how do you know she's being over-loaded? How do you know that she just isn't an insomniac?"

Phoebe looked meaningfully at Arnold. "That is the purpose of our mission. To find out if anything is wrong, anything at all! I've been reading up on mental health recently, and I'm frightened for her. I apologize to you two if it turns out to be nothing, but I really need you for this."

"Why?" asked Gerald.

Phoebe looked at him with the same determination and desperation Arnold saw in her eyes. "You guys have experience in this kind of situation. Everyone knows it, too. You two are the best of the best in this neighborhood at spying, stealth, and figuring things like this out. Gerald, Arnold, will you aid me?"

"Of course," said Arnold. "I just hope that nothing really is wrong."

"Yeah, me, too," Gerald said slowly. "Are you sure that she'll be at her own house?
Phoebe nodded. "Yes. She has too many books in her backpack to go anywhere else of importance without dropping them off somewhere. Come on. We have to hurry if we want to beat her there."
!@#$%^&*()_+{}:"?

Halfway to her house, Helga paused and took a moment to look around her. Seeing that no one was in range to hear or see her clearly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small locket. It was a smaller version of an old one, with a newer picture inside of it. It was shaped like a heart. She looked into it, expressionless, because she was deep in her mind, fantasizing. Finally, she frowned and shook her head sadly. She placed the locket back into her pocket.

She turned to the other pocket and pulled out a wad of ten dollar bills. She looked at it with the same face as she did the locket. Slowly, she began to look determined. She returned to her walk, going at a faster pace.

!@#$%^&*()_+{}:"?!@#$%^&*()_+{}:"?

Arnold was running ahead, with Phoebe behind him and Gerald in the back. Arnold knew a shortcut to Helga's block that went through a trail of alleys and fences.

"Hey, guys," he panted. "Are any of... your parents... expecting you home?"

"No!" yelled Phoebe. "I thought of this last night and said I was going to Gerald's."

"Same here!" said Gerald. He jumped over a cardboard box that had fallen from a Dumpster. "I was supposed to go to the library to study for that test tomorrow. Looks like I got... other plans."
They reached a wire fence that was taller than any of them. Gerald climbed up with ease, and so did Arnold. Phoebe had a little more trouble with it, though.

Gerald reached over the top and took her hand. "Here you go," he said strained, using his strength to pull her up. "Up and at 'em, Pheebs."

She reached the top and the two of them jumped down. "Thank you, Gerald."

They continued to race to Helga's house as fast as they possibly could. In no time, they were at the side of her house.

"Shh," warned Phoebe, leaning over the corner to find Helga. She popped back quickly. "She's coming," she whispered.

The three of them hid as they watched Helga walk to her front door and cross the framing into the house. Arnold motioned for Gerald to give him a boost to the kitchen window, to tall for his thirteen-year-old build. Phoebe climbed carefully onto a trash can.

"So, we're spying on Helga to find out what her after-school schedule has been like lately because you feel like she may have some sort of internal problem that we can solve just by watching her, and risking a very good pounding if we are caught." Gerald shook his head and winced under Arnold's weight. "I feel like I'm in a book or something."

"Gerald, if you are going to help," said Phoebe, "then please refrain from speaking!"

"Translation: Shut up," said Arnold. "Hey, she's coming into the kitchen."

Phoebe starched just enough so that both eyes could see past the window frame. Helga had plopped her backpack on a counter stool. What Phoebe saw made her gasp. The counter and breakfast table were covered in beer cans and bottles, fast food bags, cigarette packs, and coffee mugs. Helga didn't take a second look at any of it before she walked to the refrigerator and opened it. Half of the area inside was resided for more alcohol, but there was some space for leftovers, milk, soda, and condiments. She took out some bread, that was apparently misplaced, and a can of soda. She moved up to the freezer, which was packed with frozen dinners and the occasional frozen vegetable bag. She pulled out frozen lasagna and set it on the counter. Opening her soda, she started to read the instructions. She pulled her blond hair back and opened the oven door. A strand of hair fell into her face as she stuffed it in.

"Oh, my God," whispered Arnold. "What in the name of all good things happened to her house?"

Phoebe gasped again and covered her mouth. She couldn't believe how trashed her best friend's house was after her last visit.

"What is it?" asked Gerald. "What's wrong with the room?"

"Everything," Phoebe said, a harsh tone in her voice. She was angry. What had caused this?
Helga set the timer and pushed the volume up to its loudest tone. She then ran up the stairs into her room, leaving her backpack.

"I don't think she's going to study right now," said Arnold.

"What happened?" Gerald asked again. "What's up?"

Phoebe jumped from the trash can and stormed quietly to the next window. "The room is filthy, she's making dinner, and she didn't even have to say hi to her mom. Do you know what that means?" she asked, turning around furiously.

Arnold stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground. "It means that her family life is even worse than it was before," he concluded. "Her parents have finally hit an all time low." He kicked a can lightly.

"Something tells me," said Gerald slowly, "that that isn't the worst of it. What caused her parents to go all insane like that, man?"

"Let's just check out the living room," stressed Phoebe. She walked over to the next window and reached up on her toes to see. For the third time, she sucked in a breath in surprise.
It wasn't just her mother sitting there asleep on the couch, but her father as well. Usually he was at his job at Big Bob's Beepers, but instead he was in his pajamas, lazily watching a movie on HBO. The floor was littered with fallen ash trays and a few beer cans.

They all stared in awe at the former Beeper King. "What the heck happened?" asked Gerald.

No one answered him, at least not immediately. Finally, Arnold shook his head. "We have to find out what happened to him," he concluded. "Maybe it'll help us find out what happened to Helga." Everyone had accepted the fact that Helga was, in fact, different. Arnold seemed almost as mad and determined as Phoebe.

Phoebe glared and tried to hold back tears. Then she lifted her head and strained her ears. She turned toward Gerald and Arnold and said quickly, "Get back!" Just in time, they moved into a shadow as they saw Helga walk down the sidewalk with a pad of paper, an old shirt, and a case of what was most likely pencils and art supplies. "She's going somewhere," she said, moving forward, her fencing training coming out in the swiftness in her feet. "Where, however, is still a mystery."

"No, duh," said Gerald, creeping up behind her. Then, sincerely, he grasped her shoulders and looked at her. "We'll follow her, okay? No worries, babe."

Phoebe looked grateful, but didn't yet smile. She shook her head and said, "Come on. We need to follow her. Stay back, though, to stay out of hearing range."

"Of course," said Arnold. He moved out and started walking in Helga's direction. Phoebe and Gerald exchanged glances and hurried after him.

Yeah, so there it is. It's like 12 midnight, I've been having this in my inbox forever and finally finished the last four paragraphs, and I'm not feeling insane anymore. Hmm... interesting... Hey, somebody get a test tube out, something freaky is going on. Wait. ~raids fridge and cabinet and pulls out chocolate bars, Starbuck's double chocolate mocha frappuchinos, Jumbo Sugar Sticks, and, of course, Marky-O's~ YAHOO! Well, anyway, tell me how you like it! I think it's revolutionary! Later!

Your Resident Lunatic Asylum Member

Phebga Madame Fortress Mommy