TW: Substance abuse (alcohol).


It finally happened. The love of my life, the capture of my heart, finally loves me back. Well, he at least likes me-likes me back and that's good enough for me. I keep replaying our kiss in my head as if it were a movie. Of course it wasn't our first kiss - as if I could go all those years without feeling his lips against my own. But, it was the first kiss that he initiated. How my heart flew! Although...all love has its obstacles.

After waking Arnold's parents all he wanted to do was spend the summer with them, and I understood that. He felt bad about not being about to see Gerald and the others and (oh be still my beating heart) me. Throughout the summer we saw each other every now and then and he tried to call as often as he could, such a sweet prince so caring and diligent that he would still consider the well-beings of his friends over the importance of reuniting with his long lost parents, how pure and kind. But, understandably, I didn't get to see as much of him as I would have liked. I won't lie and say I didn't feel a little lonely when Phoebe and Gerald were out on dates and Arnold was with his parents, because...it was pretty lonely. Top that with Bob ordering me to do this and that around Big Bob's Beepers all summer long then it really wasn't great. Though it hasn't been great ever since we've had to move into the store.

But, alas, like an oasis in the desert, Arnold would always fill my heart with pure joy and my day would immediately go from seeming like a patch of rotten weeds into a beautiful garden as soon as I would remember that Arnold P. Shortman finally likes me-likes me back. To hear his voice on the other end of the phone could instantaneously turn a bad day into a great one.

I really do love him. I really, really, really do. And yet...I still act like a jerk! On the first day back to school, Arnold, the golden haired blessing of my life, wanted to hold my hand and at first my insides felt as though they had melted. But, with the school looming in the distance and the familiar voices of our friends nearing closer to me, what do I do? I push him away! I act as if the summer never even happened! Criminy, he must hate me. I spent the rest of the school day slyly managing to avoid him; no eye contact in class, I didn't once try and visit my locker for fear of him waiting there for me (although a part of my heart does love the idea of that), and at lunch I tripped Eugene and got lunchtime detention so that I wouldn't be able to eat with him. Very sly indeed. Come the end of the day I managed to run off claiming Bob needed me urgently - which in a way was true since he urgently needed someone to mop the floors while he sat around doing nothing.

I don't understand myself really. I've spent practically my entire life dedicated to this football headed boy, building shrines and filling volumes upon volumes of books with poetry about him, and as soon as I finally get his affections back I freak! Is something wrong with me? Maybe I'm just not meant for love. I mean, I spend all this time longing for it and now I can't handle it?! Helga G. Pataki who? I only know Coward L. Wimp, queen of the hypocrites. Honestly, you would think I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him. I would think I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him! But as soon as we're in school something in me just flicks and I get this urge to just avoid him at all costs. Maybe I should talk to Doctor Bliss about it. There might actually be something psychologically wrong with me.

In the meantime, there's always some sort of work to be done. Beeper towers to build and and fax machines to shelve. Bob really needed to listen to everyone (and our finances) when they say that no one buys this outdated crap anymore. The most action we have had this week alone was a man coming in to buy one of those car air fresheners that we keep next to the cash register. $1.84. That's how much we made. No wonder Bob's been dipping into the savings here and there. As much as I can't stand the guy...I am worried, mostly for myself of course but, he's starting to lose hair and I don't think it's just because he's getting older. Plus Miriam is a reck; drunk all night, hungover all day. I've seen her steal twenties out of Bob's wallet and sneak off to the liquor store before. With her drinking habit and our complete lack of business I wouldn't be surprised if we were all homeless by Christmas.

I finished making the beeper tower - I had to stand on one of the fax machines to reach the top so at least that hunk of junk is useful for something - and, as if on cue, the phone rang and made me knock it over. What was even the point.

"OLGA! Get that will ya, I'm watching the game."

"It's Helga numbnuts." I muttered before reluctantly answering the phone, "Big Bob's Beepers, how can I help you?"

"I think you've helped me more than enough over the years, Helga." His voice alone is enough to make my heart race. It was Arnold, my beloved. "But, my Grandma's fax machine broke and she insists on getting a new one - apparently it's the only thing that will let her communicate with the people who live on the moon." I chuckled. Gertie always had been a character but she had never spilled the beans about my many secret escapades into the boarding house. "Is it too late to stop by?" He asked. Technically we were closed. But for the sake of a sale I don't think Bob would mind, though the thought of seeing Arnold did make me nervous.

"Not at all, football head." Why did I call him that? God, what is wrong with me!

"Okay, bye." At least he didn't sound mad about it.

I went into Bob's office/room; Miriam was passed out on the sofa in the corner and Bob sat in his chair, surrounded by towers of boxes filled with our stuff, he was watching a football game on a TV mounted onto the wall.

"What?" He asked.

"People are gonna swing by soon to buy a fax machine."

"It's after hours."

"So?"

"I don't work after hours."

"Fine. I'll deal with it. Sheesh." I take back what I said earlier. I hate the guy.

I slammed the office door shut and went back over to the beepers to try and reassemble the tower before Arnold got here. When he found out that we had to move into the beeper store because we couldn't afford to live at home anymore he became really concerned. I told him not to worry about it, it felt weird to have him pity me. I think he understood that though as he never really brought it up again, but over the summer he did come by and buy two beepers and a printer. If that schmuck doesn't think that I don't know that he never uses those beepers or that he already has a printer that works perfectly fine then he's an idiot. A caring idiot though.

Just as I put the final beeper on top of the tower Arnold walked through the door, accompanied by his grandma and his mom.

"Hey Helga." Oh if my heart were a bird it would fly higher than all the others for he alone made it beat like the rapid wings of a hummingbird with but a simple 'Hey'.

"Hi Arnold." I could see the coy smiles of his mom and grandma out of the corners of my eye and embarrassment anchored my heart back down from the skies. "Um, the fax machines are over there." I said to Gertie pointing to the shelves in the corner. She and Stella walked over to them and I heard Gertie mumble something about which one would be the best for avoiding interference from the government and aliens.

"Nice beeper tower." Arnold said nodding toward the tower

"Thanks, made it myself." As soon as I said that it caved in on itself, just like my pride. Boastfulness, the true enemy of any beeper tower.

"Nice beeper pile." Arnold said trying to hold back a laugh.

"Can it, hair boy." I gave him a light punch on the arm then went to pick up the beepers, screw the tower the shelf will do, and it's not like anyone was going to buy one of them anyway. Arnold, being the kind hearted blessing that he is, gave me a hand and I couldn't help but notice that he looked as if he had something on his mind. "What's eating at you, Arnoldo?" I asked. He was quiet for a moment and then turned to me.

"Were you avoiding me at school today, or am I just overthinking things?"

I wanted to lie. I wanted to say that he was overthinking. But this big headed green eyed punk had my heart wrapped around his little finger, and I just couldn't bring myself to lie to him.

"Kinda...it wasn't a you thing though. I just felt...weird." He stayed quiet for a bit and carried on stacking beepers.

This is it, my ultimate fear that up until a few months ago didn't even exist. I, Helga G. Pataki, was about to get dumped by the love of my life. I could feel a lump in my throat start to grow.

"That's okay, Helga."

"What?"

"I said it's okay. It's kind of...weird for me too. Us being, you know..." That's right. We never really agreed to be girlfriend and boyfriend after the jungle, we just were. I wonder what that is though? After all this time, we still aren't together-together. Is it possible for me to even be dumped if we aren't together-together? This really is so much effort.

"Yeah." I muttered, more to break the weird atmosphere than as an actual response. I wonder if I will ever be able to really be with Arnold and not have it be awkward or weird. If I can't, then should I really be with him? What if we aren't meant to be? Oh cruel fates, how you tease me so.

"Not that I don't like it though...I mean, I guess...weird can be good sometimes. Like Curly!" He sputtered out.

"Did you honestly just compare our relationship as being like Curly? The Curly?"

"No! Well, yeah. But, you know what I mean." He sighed in defeat which made me laugh.

We finished stacking the beepers just as Stella and Gertie came over asking for the Faxatron 4000, the most expensive of the fax machines. Arnold better not have anything to do with that. I went into the back and made sure to get them one that hadn't been dropped, because I'm nice like that.

"That'll be two-hundred and sixty-two and ninety-nine cents." I said at the register. Stella paid and Gertie said thank you before they headed on their way out of the store with Arnold.

"Oh wait, I forgot something. Go ahead, I'll catch up." Arnold said before turning back towards me, my heart started to race. He put $5 in the tips jar and said, "So, we are in a relationship then?"

"Huh?"

"Earlier, you said 'our relationship'."

"Oh. I, uhh, I guess I did."

"So we're in a relationship."

"I guess we are, football head." A big grin spread across his stupid face right before he leaned over the counter and kiss me on the cheek.

"See you tomorrow, Helga." He said.

"Bye." I managed to whisper before he left the store. As soon as he left the store my knees gave way and I hid under the counter. My cheek felt like it was burning right where his lips had been. I covered my mouth with my hand to hold back a scream as tears, of what I'm assuming is joy, fled down my face and dripped onto the floor. It was official. Arnold, the love of my life, and I, Helga G. Pataki, are in a relationship. I had never felt like this before. It felt like happiness but amplified. Like both flying and falling at the same time. I felt so...alive. Finally after years of longing and dreaming and hoping that the day, the day that Arnold would like me back, would come along actually has! I closed my eyes and let everything flow over me. Every memory, every spitball, every single moment. And then I thought of younger me, on her first day to preschool. I remembered the rain and the dog and the mud and the boy, with the little yellow raincoat, who shared his umbrella with me and complemented my bow. I thought about younger me and how proud she'd be and I started crying even more.

I composed myself as well as I could, but it seemed there was an immovable smile permanently slapped onto my face.

I was in a relationship with Arnold. The Arnold!

I locked the door and switched on the exterior shutters for the windows - all of which were covered in graffiti. I jotted today's earnings (or earning since there was only one) into Big Bob's Book of Receipts, before taking that and the money into the office for the safe.

"How'd it go then?" Asked Bob, eyes still glued to the TV which was now playing some kind of old detective show.

"Two-hundred and sixty-seven dollars and ninety-nine cents in total."

"Damn!" His eyes finally unlatched from the screen, "What'd the suckers buy?"

"A Faxatron Four-Thousand."

"And the other five dollars?" Of course Bob had the prices of everything memorised.

"A tip."

"Well, well, little lady. Looks like you'll be working the register more often if you keep making tips like that." I rolled my eyes and handed him the the money and the book. He handed me back a $100 and before I could say anything covered my mouth and signaled for me to leave the room. I did, confused but I did. I went across the store to the other office, it was smaller than Bob's and used mostly for the storage of electronics even older than the ones we tried to sell. But, somehow, Bob had managed to fit my bed and a few of my other things in here so that was nice. Oh who am I kidding...it's a dump! There's no room for anything and it stinks of dust. There's old junk everywhere and all of my stuff has to be kept in the storage units on the other side of the city! I threw myself onto my bed and some dust flew up into the air. I didn't even have a window to help. There definitely wasn't a smile on my face anymore. Bob opened the door, letting some of the dust out but then closed it again before getting close to me and telling me to "Shh."

"I didn't even say-"

"Shhhh!" It's official. He's lost his mind. He went over to one of the many old black and white TV's that sat around aimlessly in the room - they didn't even work anymore what was the point of keeping them - then he looked at me and said, "You can't tell a soul about what I'm about to show you. Not even your mother."

"Pfft, who's she gonna tell anyway? Jack and Daniels?"

"Helga." Damn. Must be serious.

"Alright, alright. Keep my trap shut. I got it." He turned back to the TV and turned one dial all the way clockwise and another all the way anticlockwise before stroking his hand underneath it and then pushing something. There was a click right before the screen of the TV popped open like a microwave door. Inside was a little money here and there, maybe just over a hundred bucks. He gesture 'gimme' with his hands and I gave him the $100 he gave me earlier. He put it in there and shut the door, the dials turned back on their own before there was another click.

"Just in case." He muttered.

"Why can't Miriam know about this, she could help save up too."

"No she can't...you know she can't. Now go to bed Olga." That was the first time I think I had ever really seen Bob look so hurt behind the eyes, and as happy as I was that Arnold and I were now officially together-together, I could shake that look in Bob's eyes from my head.


So that's the start. What do ya think? Let me know. Also, I was taught never to use numbers in dialogue but idk it seems like so much effort to me and doesn't quite look right, what do you think?

Thank ya.