Words I Couldn't Say

By: Arnold's Love

Author's Note (12/24/2015): It's been like six years...holy cow! Six years since I last updated this story...life happens...what can I say? But I've been recently inspired to finish this. I'm aware all my old "friends" from the old days are probably gone and won't read it, but this story calls to be completed for me and for the new people who are still PM-ing me and reviewing it. That being said, I have gone through and edited/updated it a bit to better fit into my vision. So enjoy, review and PM me and let me know your thoughts!

Chapter One: "Deep Regrets"

(Arnolds Point of View)

Wow, I thought, it's actually almost been five years. It didn't really seem that long ago that I was in Hillwood with Gerald and the gang, playing baseball, living at the boarding house, chasing urban legends, and being bullied by Helga G. Pataki. I chuckled to myself, man, those were crazy times. Often, especially lately, I'd find myself reminiscing and missing those days. Let's face it life is fun and carefree when you are a kid.

"Arnold, I am extremely surprised," said a voice feminine from behind me. "It's galactically messy in here."

Startled I turned around to see my best friend Sandy, dressed in lavender, a hand on each hip and a smirk all too apparent on her face gazing around my room. She began shaking her head and clicking her tongue feigning disappointment.

"Tsk, tsk, Arnold. If only all the girls at school knew what a real slob you are!" she giggled peering into my face. "They wouldn't think you are so wonderful anymore." She winked teasingly.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Hey, Sandy. You're hilarious, really. It's not usually this messy, and you know it."

She walked over to the bed and picked up a box that was sitting on it. Placing it on the floor, she hopped onto the bed, jumping once or twice before sitting down. She lifted one of the boxes onto her lap and began digging around in it. "What is all this stuff anyway?" she asked pulling out a handful of old school papers.

"Pretty much everything I own," I laughed. "Grandpa says I need to sort through my stuff since we're running out of storage room. Apparently I'm a pack-rat," I added. I smiled slyly at her. "That's why you're here."

"Oh, no, no, no, no!" she gasped, her eyes getting bigger as she frantically shook her head. "I did not come over here to clean! How could you use me like this," she sobbed dramatically pretending to pass out onto my bed. "It would be an utter tragedy if I had to spend one of my last days of freedom sorting through your junk…I mean-" she sat back up with a fake smile "—darling little treasures!" She put a dainty hand to her forehead and groaning flopped back down.

"Well, I just assumed my best friend would be willing to help me out…it's not like I've never done anything for her." I paused, pretending to think really hard. "I mean what does helping her baby-sit her siblings, helping with her physics homework, attending every single one of her choir and theater performances, and all those other kind charitable things I've done matter anyway?" Then with an exaggerated sigh I said, "I suppose I could do it all by myself."

Sandy sat back up and glared at me. "Guilt trip, eh? Well, we wouldn't be best friends if you didn't know what worked on me. And anyway, you're too sweet to say no to, and I do owe you…about a million favors." She came over and sat down on the floor next to my chair with an exasperated sigh. "So let's get down to business. Where do I start?"

I shrugged. "Oh, um…this box of pictures…I was thinking we could sort through them, put them in order, and then-"

"Oh, oh!" she practically yelled. "And then I will make the most adorable scrap book for you!" she exclaimed, hugging a handful of pictures. "You'll just adore it! It could be my Christmas present to you!" she exclaimed throwing the pictures in the air excitedly.

I couldn't help but smile as the pictures rained down around me. Sandy and I had been best friends since middle school when I had first moved to Fernwood. She had befriended me while we sat through the boring seventh grade orientation and immediately we became friends. She was smart, funny and always willing to help someone out, and a total tease. Her passions—or maybe I should say obsessions—were music and theater and if she wasn't singing and dancing around she was daydreaming up one silly scheme or another.

One time we were downstairs playing monopoly and Sandy was on a roll coming up with a song for about everything we said and dancing a samba around the table.

Amidst a rendition of "Popular" from the play "Wicked", Grandpa looked up his newspaper and said, "Shortman, that girl is crazier than your grandma half the time." But he liked her all the more for it. Grandma eventually came in dressed in a bright pink Latin outfit and together they sambaed up and down the hall.

Sandy was tall and thin, but still about five inches shorter than me, and the most feminine girl I had ever known. She was so cute in everything she did, whether it was singing or just completely goofing off. Her hair was thick, long and the most amazing mix of nutmeg brown and ginger I had ever seen. Her engaging smile and bright green eyes laced with dark lashes were forever sparkling with life and laughter. She loved life and people and really knew how to make a difference to every single person she met.

She was my best friend, and I was in love with her—and had been for almost three years.

"Christmas?!" I exclaimed. "Christmas is months away!"

"Aw, but Arnold, didn't you feel the autumn crispness in the air?" she sighed dreamily gazing up at me, her eyes lighting up.

I gazed back at her completely forgetting what she had just said. She is so beautiful, I thought to myself, if only I had the nerve to…

"You know what that means!" She jumped up suddenly, startling me, and ran over to my stereo.

"It's barely September! You're crazy," I stated shaking my head as Nat King Cole began singing "The Christmas Song".

"I know, but it is just the best sorting music ever. Totally relaxing!" She sat back down waving her hand around dramatically.

"Okay, fine, but after this CD I get to pick something," I told her, grinning.

"Deal-io! Just be glad I'm not like my mom…she starts playing Christmas music in March! And at that point, the Christmas tree hasn't even been down for a whole month!" She picked up a pile of pictures. "Lets get started! I am so exciting for my new Christmas project!"

I laughed and took a handful of pictures myself. "Okay, I guess we can sort them into stacks by year. Maybe I'll put a picture from each year into a pile and then you can—"

"Oh my gosh! How adorable is this?" she sighed shoving the picture in my face.

It was a picture of me and some friends from elementary school in a play we had once put on.

"Oh, Romeo and Juliet, I forgot all about that!" I chuckled, remembering how silly it had been.

I watched her as she looked at the picture once more. Slowly a smile spread across her face. "You were Romeo weren't you!" she laughed. "'Romeo, Romeo where art thou'…ooh, there are an awful lot from when you were this age. A favorite time perhaps?"

"I don't know, sometimes it seemed like I spent forever in fourth grade," I told her remembering the school year that really had seemed to last forever. Half the memories I kept cached away were from when I was nine years-old.

"Arnold," she said gazing up at me.

Oh, she is so adorable! I thought as her eyes once more got their all too familiar dreamy look.

"Hmm?" I smiled down at her half-lidded, drinking in her beauty.

She stared at me for a moment and looked as if she was about to tell me something really important. I was hoping it was the one thing I had been wanting to hear for so long.

She seemed to change her mind, her expression returning to normal, and said, "tell me some stories about then. About fourth grade."

(Helga's Point of View)

I looked at myself in the mirror and sighed with disappointment. "Criminey, Mom, there's just no point. Who cares anyway? It's senior year, everyone's already gonna have friends that they've known for a lifetime and I'll be just the weird new girl," I said crossing my arms angriling in front of the dressing room mirror. "The weird new girl who looks like some creepy circus clown in an outfit that would look amazing on any other girl," I added. Shrugging my shoulders I went back into the dressing room to pull of the beautiful pink sweater that only made me look skinny and pale.

"Helga, dear, stop worrying! Everything will be fine, you'll see! You're beautiful and so different now—we all are! People will like you and want to be your friend! Just be open and show them who you are," my mom said, kindly.

Our family had gone through so much in the past few years. My father, Bob, of Big Bob's Beeper and Cell Phone Emporium, had had his third heart attack about three years before putting him in bed for weeks. We all had been forced to come closer and talk more as we each realized that we hadn't really been acting as we should—only hiding behind the mask of perfection. Dad realized that his stressful lifestyle was not aiding him in living a long life. Mom, seeing Dad's health issues, decided that she needed to quit drinking and be a better wife and mother. They started noticing me, not as the daughter who would never be perfect like Olga, but as the daughter who was unique and special in her own ways. We started spending time together, listening, talking and helping each other. That alone made a huge difference.

After the stroke Dad had decided to take a break from the Beeper Emporium (well, not entirely, but at least put some space between him and work). He had a great manager that he trusted completely. Mom and Dad also decided that a change of scenery would be good for us and help us along in becoming even closer as a family and so they decided to move us up north to a little town close to the Canadian border. "Fresh air and fresh faces," was how they referred to the little town.

"Well, I'll definitely be missing Phoebe this year," I sighed, thinking about the best friend I was leaving behind.

Although we had grown up and changed Phoebe and I had stayed close if not grown closer. She had helped me in school, talked me through my family problems for so many years, eventually helping me to see that we could change and mend it. She helped me learn to be myself, while still softening and treating others a bit kinder-helped me learn to control my temper and desire to forcefully hide my insecurities. She even helped me with my guy problems-when the boy who had been my obsession since I was three moved away.

I sighed quietly to myself as I put another outfit on. Arnold. Wow, I hadn't seen him for almost five years. I wondered where he was and what he was doing. What he looked like. Gerald Johansen had shown Pheebes and I a picture once back in freshman year and he was still the same and as handsome as ever even with the gawkiness of puberty thrust upon him. I wondered if he still spent all his time helping others and never helping himself. I wondered if he'd found a girl to love, who would love him back. I certainly hoped so, he deserved that. Great, admirable, good people should always be blessed with love. People like me…hard, pushy people…maybe we didn't so much deserve that.

I still loved him. At least I felt like I still did. Maybe I just loved the idea of him. But I had never found anyone who quite compared to him. He was the guy who had changed my life with simple acts of kindness...something he repeated through so many years in my life. Something that was void from my life for so long. Had taught me lessons on how important it was to help others and treat others better. How compassion for one person could change their life. He constantly helped me see the world differently, whether he knew it or not, until he moved away and lost touch.

I felt a pang of regret inside and cringed. I dreamed of having a second chance to tell him how I felt. But I knew in my soul that I deserved the regret I felt. I deserved all this pain. How many chances did fate throw my way—opportunities to tell that wonderful boy I loved the truth. I had let them pass by without so much as a thought. Even my last chance…I had ruined bitterly. He had taught me one finally lesson that night and I had tried to learn from it-almost like my last shrine to him. My last desperate attempt to please him-whether or not he was long gone.

I sighed deeply as I remembered that last night before his family left.

It had been a chilly evening. The wind was beginning to pick up and the clouds looked dark and ominous. He had been sitting in the park quietly thinking when I had stumbled upon him. "Hey ya, football head! Shouldn't you be packing or something?" I sneered at him. We were twelve by that point but I was still pretty harsh to him-covering up my feelings for him-always on the defense.

He merely shrugged and continued to stare at the grass at his feet, lost in thought.

Trying to soften a bit, realizing that he looked extremely melancholy, I sat down next to him. "You okay?"

He looked up at me, an expression of surprise all too apparent on his face and shrugged half-heartedly. "Well, I'm moving. It just kind of seemed to hit me this evening that it's real. I'll be leaving the school and city I have known so long and all my friends…" his voice trailed off, and I thought I spotted a tear in his eyes.

Oh, Arnold! I thought, If only I could bring myself to hug you and comfort you in your time of need. But no, then I would be vulnerable…and I can't allow you to know how I truly feel.

We sat silently for a few moments and finally he said, "but you're right I should be packing."

I frowned as he began to get up to leave. These were my last moments with him I realized. I had to do something—say something. And of course the one thing I wanted to say I couldn't. "Arnold, wait," I spoke softly, and wasn't sure if he had heard.

He turned to look at me questioningly.

"I just wanted to say that you have great friends here. We all lo—lo—like you and I am sure you should never worry about losing contact with…anyone." I tried to give him a friendly smile.

His eyes brightened slightly. "You are right, Helga. Good friends can always be friends no matter how far apart they may be." He leaned closer looking into my face and smiled. He had grown since fourth grade and now was about my height.

I gazed into his beautiful, dreamy green eyes wishing I had the courage to tell him how I felt. For real, this time. But I couldn't allow myself to risk being hurt.

Without warning he hugged me, and I let him for a few moments, holding in the sigh that welled up inside me, before pushing him away. "Whoa, Arnoldo! I was just trying to cheer you up so you weren't so pathetic, don't get all—"

He gave me a puzzled look. "Why do you do that?" he asked.

I glared at him. I knew I shouldn't be rude to him especially during out last moments together, but I had to protect my feelings. "Do what, football head?"

He paused as if thinking for a moment. "Why do you act all nice and almost show your feelings and what's deep inside you, and then suddenly strike out with insults at me? I almost start to like you."

My mouth dropped open and I stared. Who did he think he was asking me something like that? And almost like me?! What the heck was that supposed to mean? "My feelings?" I laughed, mocking at him. "Crimeny, you don't even know what you are talking about!"

"You know I do, Helga," he stated staring into my eyes defiantly. But he suddenly broke, and looked down at his watch, paused and said, "look I have to go, so I guess this is good-bye."

The thunder roared then breaking across the silent sky. Lightening flashed and I looked into his troubled green eyes. I felt my heart breaking in two. What would I do without Arnold always near? Who would replace the one kind person in my life? I wanted to tell him how much I loved and cared for him, but I couldn't let myself be hurt. I couldn't take that chance. I wanted to hug him, to kiss him, but he would probably only be disgusted and run from me forever.

I became defensive instead. "To tell you the truth, bucko, I am so glad I won't have to look at your ridiculously shaped head anymore in class," I scoffed, before I could stop myself.

He stared at me and I could see the hurt filling his eyes. He turned from me and began walking away with his shoulders slumped slightly, saying nothing.

"Arnold, wait! I'm sorry!" I cried, coming after him.

He stopped, but didn't turn around.

"I didn't mean it."

"Helga, why do you say such horrible things if you don't mean them?" he asked turning to face me. "They say there's a little bit of truth in everything people say. So if you don't mean it, then why do you do that? How long do you think that is actually going to work? You're just going to continue pushing people away from you until eventually they will be out of your life forever." He seemed to emphasize the last phrase especially. "There won't be anyone left." He added in a whisper. "You'll be alone." He looked at me sadly and great meaning in his eyes.

What could I have said? "To hide my love for you?" "To stop you from ever realizing the truth about me?" "To stop you from discovering my true, unquenchable feelings?" I just looked at him not saying anything. Lightning lit up his pained expression, and we jumped as another blast of thunder filled the sky.

"Why, Helga? You hurt so many people, can't you see that?" his eyes looked so sad, so hurt…betrayed even.

I had to say something. "Because Arnold, you're so dense! Don't you know why?" I cried, grabbing his t-shirt and staring into his face. "Crimeny," I sighed, disheartened, "don't you…remember why."

He stared at me almost looking frightened. I remembered then, how he had acted the first time I tried to tell him the truth of how I felt about him. I knew I had to stop myself because I could not brush a second confession under the rug, I'd have to pay for it and from the look on his face it would be painful—painful to know he really didn't care one ounce for me.

Quickly I chose another venue of reasoning. "Because I have to protect myself, Arnold! Because not one person cares about me! Nobody! I am completely alone in this world and the only way to make it through it is to put others down before they can do the same to me," I cried out. I knew it sounded horrible, but I couldn't tell him the complete truth. But I let him have that and it was enough.

"Helga, I have to go. But listen, that's not how you should go about life. I hope you one day realize that," he said quietly. "You're better than that. And people do care about you." He looked at me sadly, gently putting a hand on my shoulder. "I know deep down inside you there is a kind, caring, wonderful person. I always hoped I'd be around to see it. But…" he stopped, and shrugged. "Just don't continue down this path and end up alone, Helga. Please, don't." He looked up at me once more, painfully. "Anyway, I have to go. Good bye, Helga," he said quietly, just as the rain began to pour down upon us.

"Good-bye, Arnold," I whispered as I watched him walk away through the thick sheets of rain. "I love you," I whispered as my tears began to mix with the rain on my face. But it was too late…he was gone.

Posted: October 2007

Edited: March 2016

-Arnold's Love