Soooo I did a thing. If you didn't know I'm a 90s baby, you do now. When I read that Nick is going to FINALLY make the Hey Arnold! movie that we never got (google it!) I flipped my shit. I love that show. They kept it so real, and the characters were so fleshed out and human for a kid's show. After watching a few episodes on Hulu this just sort of... happened. Like word vomit. Viva la 90s revival!
Warning: A solid enough 'M' for everything besides violence. Read at your own risk.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold! but I love it to bits
"Yo. Wake. The. Fuck. Up."
A poke. A shove. A snap of fingers right beside my ear.
Was my best friend trying to die young?
"Eh c'mon man. You think I like waking you up? You slept through the alarm. You really wanna piss off Monsieur Croissant de cafe au laite?"
I rub my eyes and chuckle, because I don't have enough voice for a full laugh yet. At least not until there's coffee in my system.
"You're gonna run out of random french words to call him eventually Gerald."
"Non non, ma cherie," he says in that rough snarl that americans think (wrongly) all frenchmen have. "Cecile taught me a little and it stuck."
"Penpal Cecile? Damn, that was years ago."
I rummage through my drawers and fish out a folded plaid shirt and jeans. It amazes other guys that I actually fold my clothes, but if they'd grown up with my Grandma and her threats of 'Extra Easter' if I had a messy room, they might have understood. I still have no idea what the hell that means, but Grandpa promised I shouldn't try to find out.
Cecile remains another unsolved mystery. I had met her, true, but only after meeting the other her. A girl who's real name I never got. It's too much of a mindfuck this early in the day. Something about digging up old memories makes you feel fuzzy. Like you can't be sure which you- past or present- is the real one. Some people call it nostalgia. Nah. Mindfuck.
I walk through a mist of cologne ("Mm, mm, mm, Arnold. Burberry? You like your chick spritz classy." Were Gerald's words. I just happen to like this smell. Don't really care how anyone else feels about it.) and yank hair away from my face. "What did happen that night with you two?"
"Some expert level hand holding and cheeseburger eating. You know how I do."
"Yeah, yeah. Save some smooth for me." I blow him a kiss while picking up my backpack, the edges of my sketchbooks peeking out of a zipper. Gerald and I are so close that anyone who takes our joking seriously is clearly not someone who's known us very long.
"Ohohoho! Oui monsieur."
The kitchen smells like a Starbucks. In other words so damn good that I know our third roommate is awake.
"Lee, have I told you that I might marry you instead of Gerald?"
My favorite green mug is already filled with black coffee and heaps of sugar. I grab it and Lee shakes his black manbun at me (which is only tolerated because Gerald still sports ridiculously tall hair) and rolls his eyes.
"Shut up and drink up. Monsieur said this class is 'tres important on our quest to further develop our artistry', remember. Your ass is lucky I take mercy on you."
"Be nice Julie." Gerald snickers as he walks by us to fetch himself some toast.
Lee's full name is Julian, courtesy of his mom. She'd been told it was going to be a girl and called her belly Julie for nine months only to have a little penis shoved into her arms. Her exact words. Lee is a better guy than most. He hooks me up with his free coffee barista privileges on the regular. We take some of the same classes because we're both studying for some sort of art based career. Lee knows what he wants to do: design video games, and he's full of promise. He even got Gerald a marketing internship at the company that gave him his. Basically he's just the best thing ever, and we love him like a brother.
"Alright," I gulp my liquid sustenance down. "Let's head out."
"Have fun drawing wrinkly old dudes." Gerald snickers and gets toast crumbs everywhere.
We both groan. "Shut the hell up."
Everybody looks half alive on campus. I mean it is seven thirty in the morning. Seven forty five when Lee and I walk into the isolated, corner-of-the-building classroom. Our teacher, who goes strictly by Monsieur Brevéux, is a french artist who specializes in portraits and dabbles in critique (that some people would kill to have). It was a pain in the ass to apply for his class. And now here we all are. Zombified at our desks and on the verge of our first nude model.
"Bonjour class!" Brevéux claps enthusiastically. He's... Whimsical. ("Gay, Arnold." Lee had scoffed. "He's as straight as a bendy straw.") "As you know today we will have a study in human anatomy. The sort that makes most of you giggle uncontrollably. In order to draw a body accurately I need to see that you can immerse yourself in it. Remember that you too are made of lovely bone and skin and bring it to life for me. See how it shapes your signature, if it isn't what you are partial to drawing. Curtains drawn?"
He asks no one in particular. The heavy looking navy blue drapes are shut tight. "Wonderful. Our model then."
It's not a wrinkly old guy.
Not even close.
A girl coccooned in a pink bathrobe walks towards the center of the room. I watch her unwrap herself like a present and drop the fluffy censor onto a nearby chair.
Holy fuck.
She's overwhelming. At first glance milky skin and gentle curves and legs that go on forever. I study her from bottom to top: Pink toe nails. Smooth legs. Soft looking thighs. She's clean shaven even there, and it makes me flush like an amateur. Taut stomach decorated by a plain metal belly piercing. Tits so ridiculously round and perky that if they were any bigger I would have thought them fake. Rosy nipples that nearly match the toe polish. Collarbones that stand out and sweep up towards her long neck.
It takes me mere moments to soak all that in. Detail is what I love. It's what makes a drawing worthwhile to me. What breathes the story into it. So I ignore the twitch in my jeans and look up at her face. Or her head, really. There's alot of thick, shiny blonde hair in the way. She pushes it behind her ears and I feel my stomach drop.
I knew those blue eyes once.
I've felt that mouth, way before it was the lush pair of lips that might just make me cream myself like a damn kid.
It's-
"I know that look." Lee says quietly with a raised brow.
"H-huh?"
"That's the 'been there fucked that' face. I for one am both shocked and proud Shortman. She's killer."
"N-no, I mean, I haven't... I just know her." I whisper furiously. Still blushing. What the hell.
"Explain."
"... Helga."
"OH SH-! Choo!"
Lee turns his outburst into a fake sneeze like the slick bastard he is, complete with a fake little rub at his nose.
"Sorry. Cold coming on."
Our teacher merely pardons him with a wave of his hand. The look in Lee's eyes says I'll be explaining alot later.
For now I have to draw Helga. Who I haven't seen in years. Utterly naked.
My pencil is a little shaky as I begin dragging it across the sketch pad I've pulled out from my bag. It's hard to pick a place to start with her. I feel this sudden need to draw her exactly as she stands, down to the little mole by her left ankle.
I breathe out and imagine it's someone else... A stranger... Every distancing thought brings more sweeps of lead onto the page. Her body doesn't take me long to flesh out but I linger on the little things. Two in particular: Her long-gone monobrow that's been groomed into two thick arches, framing her face in a way that makes me stare at it that much harder. And her lips. God, they're something else. Full like a girl who managed to do the Kylie Jenner lip thing without screwing it up. I try not to dwell on how I'd like to imagine them on my dick. That can wait until I'm alone at least. Which I look foward to, because the hard on I've got is starting to get downright uncomfortable.
"C'est magnifique, Arnold!"
Brevéux creeps up behind and startles the soul out of me.
"This is what I meant, exactly! Such strong lines but lush detail... You draw her like a familiarity. Like an extension. Even the human flaws look lovely." He says to the room, "Strive for accuracy. But do not be afraid of reinventing yourselves. Of putting yourself in the place of someone else when you draw your targets. It is through the eyes of others that we see more... Julian. What on earth is that."
I look over at his sketch book. Of course, video game junkie that he is, Lee's drawn her face beautifully but placed it onto the body of a battle vixen. Exaggerated curves, spear, and all.
"Reality isn't my strong suit." He shrugs with a winning smile. Some of the girls in class giggle. I just shake my head before hyper awareness hits me like a punch to the gut. Helga is staring at me with wide blue eyes and cheeks that weren't that pink when we began. I can see her stomach draw in as she breathes. Is she nervous? Does she recognize me? Shit...
I didn't bargain for this when I signed up to be a nude model.
It'll count as your art credit, they said. Your name will be kept confidential, they said. You probably won't know a single student in that department, they said. It seemed low-risk enough. Let people draw me so I wouldn't have to bullshit my way through drawing others.
Maybe it is just a small world after all, though. How else could I be staring Arnold Shortman in the face while wearing nothing but my pride?
At first I thought I was seeing things, but the look of him is unmistakable. I stare at him almost as hard as he's been staring at me. Granted, this is a mandatory assignment. But something about it seems mutual.
God, he's changed and hasn't all at once. I haven't seen him since... Well. A while.
He got tall. Not ramen noodle tall. Good tall. Look up for a kiss tall. Lean meat on the bone tall. Eyes are
green as a meadow, practically glowing from the contrast of his red and navy flannel shirt. His hair is still a straw-blonde mess, but the kind that makes you want to touch it. I can barely believe it when I notice but he actually ditched the little blue hat. I watch the muscles in his arm flex as he draws and realize that what was once an old fantasy of my younger self has manifested as a nightmare. A beautiful, insane nightmare.
There's no way he doesn't recognize me. And as if that wasn't bad enough he licks his lower lip while focusing on his sketching and it makes my nipples tighten instantly.
I pretend it's just the air around my naked body making me chilly. Not the freakish pull that Arnold has on my gaze. I want to stare at him like he's the naked one, and that's how I know that I must be a far cry from normal.
I watch the french art teacher (Mister Baguette? Hell if I know. Not my class) tap his expensive looking watch and announce "Time is up! Be sure to add today's work to your portfolio for the semester. Have an excellent morning!"
I take my cue and can't put the damn robe on fast enough. He nods a thank you at me in fufillment of the anonymity clause. Finally. I scurry behind one of those collapsible walls he's propped up for me and dress back up. Matching blush bra and panty. Jeans. Ivory cashmere sweater that Olga gave me as a gift a few years ago. Brown uggs. Much ado about nothing.
As soon as everybody is gone I follow suit. The teacher's comment on Arnold's drawing echoes in my head and I blush. He drew me like a familiarity? What exactly did he mean?
I shake my head as I swing the strap of my black purse over my shoulder and wrap a scarf around my neck. In the five seconds it takes me to do so I bump into someone's back at full force.
"I'm so sorry!" I chirp, skittish as fuck from what I just barely managed to live through.
"It's okay." The back replies. He replies. A husky, warm male voice.
Of course he turns around. And of course, because the world is so goddamn small after all, it's Arnold.
I turn around to pardon the stranger who bumped into me and my heart jumps up into my throat.
Helga.
In the flesh. Well, dressed flesh. Very well dressed flesh, actually. Her clothes are simple but hug her in all the right ways. Damn.
"It's you... I mean, it's been a while." I rub the back of my neck. This is nerve wracking.
"Hmm," I hear Lee murmur and then grin like an asshole. "I'll leave you to two kids to talk. Names Lee. Nice to kinda meet you, m'lady."
He bows and runs off in the direction of the library. Probably has work later. So much for being a good wingman. Guy code is useless.
"Uh... I swear he acts wierder than he really is." I chuckle lamely.
"It's okay. Friend of yours?"
"Roommate."
"Oh."
We're both looking down at our own feet.
"Come grab a coffee with me." Helga says suddenly, the last word molded into a soft question.
"Right now?"
"Can you think of a better time? I mean if you want to wait ten more years or so, by all means."
It's really been that long, hasn't it. Even her sarcasm has aged; it sounds refined. Less the growl of a girl and more the practiced lilt of a woman.
"Okay. Yeah. Let's get some coffee." I nod. One corner of her mouth twitches and makes me crave the rest of a smile that never comes.
I haven't seen him in a decade and the first thing I do is demand he follow me to a caffinated watering hole. Real suave, girl. But I can't help it. I have to see what he drew, for one. And then... I don't know what else. Haven't really planned that far ahead.
"Where do you normally go?" Arnold asks me while glancing at a his phone (a sleek black galaxy note, I'm pretty sure). I avoid his face, focusing on his shoes instead. Nice loafers. Sandy brown. He's one of those people whose fashion prefrences just happen to be stylish. Effortlessly good looking, I guess.
"Mm, I'm a Starbucks girl myself."
"Well Lee works there. Which means we have a crap ton of coffee back home. If you don't think that's wierd...?"
"Saving money on overpriced but delicious drinks is never wierd."
He chuckles a little. "Alright. Let's go."
I immediately file this under 'Most painfully awkward moments of all time' as we walk in silence to the fabled Casa de Arnoldo. I still feel like I'm naked in front of him. Every glance he thinks he's sneaking makes me feel wriggly inside. Why me?
We get to a plain red brick house with two doorways. Ah. A duplex. He slips the key into number 43 and motions for me to come inside. It's a decent place, especially for a college student. I tread lightly across a blue-walled living room, round a hall that leads to several shut doors, and then past a set of stairs towards a plain kitchen. Arnold motions towards a ridiculous amount of boxes and bags lining a wall on the kitchen counter. "Your coffee wish is my command."
I smile. "Got any holiday blend yet?"
"We shouldn't... But if you wont tell on Lee then I think I can make it happen."
"I wouldn't dream of it." I promise him. Personally anyone who has access to the holiday stuff in the middle of late September is worth befriending.
The house is filled with the dripping sound of a fresh brew.
"Roommates gone?"
"Well Lee must be off at work or class. And I room with Gerald too, but he has his internship right now. How did I not... I mean, how long have you been coming to school here?"
"I transferred in this year. English major. I had no idea you were studying here. Not like we kept in touch, right?"
Despite my efforts I still sound accusing. But what am I even acussing him of? Seeing me naked? (Not his fault) .Growing up? (He did a damn fine job of it). Forgetting about me? (Maybe. That thought definitely just stung).
He hands me a grass-green mug full of joe and passes me a jar of sugar and a spoon. "Cream?"
"Please."
"Helga..."
"Can I see what you drew?" I ask him simply and take a sip of my drink. Mmm. Definitely worth it.
"W-what?"
"The sketch from today... can I please see it?"
Eyes go wide. Lower lip gets bitten. I watch him blush so visibly red that my own cheeks catch fire as if on cue.
"Why do you want to... I swear I had no idea that you'd be... I mean, it's been so long, Helga. But I didn't mean to... To see so much. I swear."
"I know. Lemme see it anyway."
"Uh..." He yanks at a sketchbook in his backpack. Arnold flips to a certain page and cringes while handing it over as if it's a physically painful thing. When I take it, it feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. I stare at the drawing as I let go of a breath that I didn't know I was holding in.
Jesus.
It's like looking into a mirror that you wished you'd owned your entire life. Like being shown not just what you look like, but who you are. I understand what Pepe Le Pieu was going on about now. Familiarity. The way he drew me is soft. Fond. I suddenly remember that cheesy Titanic scene and it hits me. Arnold drew me the way you might draw a lover... And it's gorgeous.
I can't take my eyes off of myself. There are smaller sketches on the corners of the page: my right hand. Left foot. A few different angles of my lips. Above that, a single eye and brow. I've been deconstructed and put back together like a beautiful puzzle. It's alot to take in.
"This is-"
"I'm really sorry Helga." Arnold nearly whispers and lets himself sink onto a chair.
"It's... It's okay. You made me way too pretty."
"But you are pretty."
I stare.
I blurt out that she's pretty and the room goes quiet. Idiot, idiot, idiot.
He thinks I'm pretty. I mean, I know I'm no zero, but... Damn my heart is beating fast.
"Helga." I clear my throat. "What happened? You practically dissapeared. You helped me find my parents in the middle of a jungle and then a week later you were gone."
She fixes her blue eyes (not baby blue, or indigo, just a clear sky blue) onto the table and sighs. "Big Bob got another place further out. He expanded into the cell phone buisiness. And as little as they seemed to notice me, my going to the jungle woke them up I guess. He said a 'little rat like me had no buisiness running around like a grown ass woman' and that 'it was time for some structure far away from Hillwood'. I only got to say bye to Phoebe for a few minutes. That's how sudden it was. And the only reason I still roll with her is because she's the most amazing friend I could ask for and got into a charter program just so we could go to middle and high school together. It's not like I had a way to contact you... I mean, I tried... But..."
"Tried how?"
"Letters. That I couldn't justify sending. So after a while they just kind of... Got forgotten. Phoebe offered to bring them to you but I just... I always said no."
"Why?"
"You finally got your parents back. I'm sure you were busy rebuilding your family. For crying out loud, you didn't even know you still had one. And alot happened. Besides... We weren't really friends. Why bother?"
I have another moment of nostalgia. Or mindfuck. Whichever. I remember exactly what it felt like when Grandpa told me 'my little friend with the one eyebrow' was gone. That Bob Pataki had up and hit the road with the lot of 'em. It's almost sickening. Like when you cut yourself but don't feel the pain until you actually see the wound. How long has mine been there?
My phone alerts me of a text- a robot screaming 'EXTERMINATE!' that I ripped from Doctor Who a while ago- and I look down at it.
G: YOOO I HEARD. HELGA G. PATAKI?! WTF BRO
A: Lee? Yeah... I'll tell you when you get home. I'm talking to her now
G: Seriously? Ya'll are crazy. That is the most awkward shit I've ever heard. I'm bringing beer back for this one lmao
A: Stfu
G:Be nice to me bae or I'll tell Helga you're taken
A: Be nice to me or I'll let it slip to her that so are you. You know she'll tell Pheobe.
G: Naaaah bro chill
A: LOL
She's on her own phone when I look up (that pink iphone that just came out) and typing furiously. I just watch her- the way her brows go up at someone's reply and the smirk that tugs at those too-pretty lips. Maybe it's a boyfriend? Why does that bother me a little?
"Sorry." She sighs and taps away. "Give me one sec."
Phoebe is blowing up my phone like there's a national emergency.
Pheebs: Are you serious?! He was in the class?!
Pheebs: I haven't seen him or Gerald since my parents relocated for work. Holy cow!
H: Yeah. You're telling me. We're having cheap wine with dinner tn. I'll tell you all about it then
Pheebs: Um... could you... Maybe get Gerald's number for me? It's been soooo long wow (blush emoji, of course)
H: Sure, why not. Anything for you doll lol
When I look up Arnold is looking at me. It's unsettling how damn green his eyes are! His forehead is wrinkled a bit like he's thinking way too hard. I play with my hair when I get nervous (or so Phoebe tells me) and I do just that without thinking twice.
"Do you really not think we were friends?" God. He sounds dissapointed. Or maybe I'm imagining it. Either way I silently thank mother nature for puberty. He has such a manly voice! But still sweet sounding. Like.. like putting butter on rocks or something. It's so hard to describe.
"Um- Hey!"
Arnold frowns and snatches my iphone out of my hand. It's still unlocked, but gratefully on the homescreen.
"A cat?" He cocks his head at the orange poof that I have as a wallpaper.
"Nymph. I found her in an alley way couple years ago. Now what the hell do you think you're doing?"
Well, I guess I don't have to worry about him seeing any of my self-indulgent nudes. Not like he hasn't already seen it all. Fuck my life.
He hands it back after a sec. "Fixing that. If we weren't friends before maybe we can start now. If you text me I assume you'll be okay with it. If not... then it was good seeing you? Well, not seeing you, I mean... Ugh. You know what I mean. Catching up."
The phone is warm from being in his hands, which are much bigger than my own. And elegant looking. Exactly what you'd expect from an artist.
"You put your number in there?" I ask in disbelief.
"Yes."
I can't help myself. My face breaks into a stupid grin, and I'm laughing. "Wow." I exhale. "Okay. Got it."
I keep giggling at how ridiculous this all is. Arnold was always smooth, but damn. Just who is this man that I only got to know as a boy?
He laughs too, deep and throaty. It makes my skin prickle. "Good. So... I mean..." I follow his gaze to the sketchbook. "Oh. Here. I mean, you probably need it for credit, huh..."
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sorry. I mean I'll burn it after the semester's over if you want. I swear."
"Could I... Have it?"
"W-what?" Arnold looks like he can't believe what I'm saying. Hell, I can't either.
"When it's all graded, may I have it? I... I like it. So I'd rather keep it if it's all the same to you."
"I mean... Sure. Why not. I'll, uh, keep it to myself till then. Promise."
Laughter. I can't contain myself. It just hurls out of my mouth like sound-vomit. "Ah... This is so crazy! Am I the only one who thinks so?"
"No. No, you aren't. God, I-"
'EXTERMINATE!'
"-Aaaand it's on vibe. Sorry."
"Hey, I like Daleks as much as the next doc."
One gold brow arches at me.
"What? It's great. Everything you could want in a show once you get past the science mumbo jumbo... Ya nerd."
He smiles at me. No, he beams at me and it's blinding. I hide my face behind my cofee cup and sip. "I have to go soon." I mumble. "Essays that need tweaking. You know the deal."
"Can I walk you home?"
"What is this, the 50's? Chivalry is dead."
"Not dead," he chuckles, "just harder to come by, I think. But growing up around my grandparents made me appreciate that sort of thing. People call me old-souled alot, now that I think about it."
"They aren't wrong." I get up from my chair. "Alright then. Fine. You can walk me home. Or to the bus stop, really. I live a quick ride away from campus."
The cup makes a hollow sound as he sets it in the sink and then leads me to the front door. He holds it open like a fool. "After you."
I roll my eyes.
My heart thumps against my chest like a caged beast.
Hey at last, Arnold.
Do your thang, readers. Let me know if I should (try) to finish it? Happy Holidays!