[A/N: Hey guys! I was stuck with the idea to do this today and just had to get it out! I think there's a lot to Lila's character that deserves to be explored, not to mention the Arnold's emotions regarding his parents' disappearance. Everyone always focuses on how terrible Helga's home life is but I think the three of them could have more in common than they realize! This was my take on the situation and I hope you guys enjoy this little experiment.

It's written in Arnold's perspective first, then Lila's, then Helga's - just for clarification.

I don't own Hey Arnold, or "Show me the meaning of being lonely" by the Backstreet Boys.]

So many words for the broken heart. It's hard to see in a crimson love, so hard to breathe, walk with me, and maybe. Nights of light so soon become wild and free, I could feel the sun. Your every wish will be done, they tell me…

I barely remember what their voices sounded like. They left when I was just a baby and all I really have are my grandpa's stories and my father's journal.

I try not to think about it most of the time – the fact that I haven't seen my parents since I was a baby and the possibility of them never coming back. But it's hard. It's hard when I see other kids and their parents: Playing catch, taking walks, going to any number of the school-sponsored events that P.S. 118 holds. I try not to let it bother me but there's always something there to remind me.

My parents were… are… explorers. My mom is a doctor and my dad's an anthropologist. They did a lot of work in San Lorenzo helping the mysterious Green-Eyed-People before I was born. They even saved an indigenous civilization from extinction after an outbreak of the sleeping sickness!

According to my father's journal, I was born in this beautiful country, in the jungle. In fact, I was born during a volcanic eruption and that's a pretty amazing story in and of itself! My parents brought me back to the States before my first birthday and we lived in this boarding house with Grandma, Grandpa, and the rest of the boarders.

A couple days before my second birthday, my parents left on a trip back to San Lorenzo. The sleeping sickness had struck again and their help was required, otherwise everyone would die. They agreed to go back just one more time to help the Green-Eyed People. They'd done so much to help my parents that they felt compelled to return the gesture as a show of gratitude and mutual respect. The Green-Eyed-People trusted my parents and they were their only hope.

My parents were heroes. They ARE heroes…

Grandma and Grandpa have always been there for me and have essentially served as my parents for the last eight years. I would never want to upset them but there are times when I'm lying in bed, gazing up at the stars, or when I'm sitting up on the rooftop watching everyone down below, that I wonder what things would be like if my parents never left. Would we still live in the boarding house? Would I still be as close to my grandparents? Would I still be the same person I am now? Or, if they took me with them, would I have disappeared, too? Is there anything I could've done to change things? Maybe not as a baby, but as I grew older? Maybe they're lost. Maybe they're being held prisoner and if they are, who's going to help them?

I try to keep the darker thoughts out of my head but they still find a way to sneak into my consciousness. I know that if their plane crashed, there's a good chance they might not have survived. And if that's the case, I'm not sure how I would handle it. They've been missing from my life for so long and I only know them through stories. Yet, despite that, I still feel an indescribable emptiness inside, like something's missing. I know it's because of them.

Possibly the worst thing I could imagine, even worse than their death, is that they just didn't want me anymore. That, maybe, they're staying in San Lorenzo because of me. Before finding my father's journal, that's an idea I wrestled with a lot. I didn't want it to be true and after reading my father's journal, I don't think it is. The things he wrote… well, my parents really loved me. They wanted to come back, I know it. Something is keeping them from coming back to Hillwood and I just wish I knew what it was.

I wish I knew if there was anything I could do to help them.

I help my friends all the time. Even the boarders come to me for advice at times and I guess I'm good at it because their problems usually work out. I guess I've just seen, so many times, how things can go wrong that I've figured out how to make them right and I want to help people. There isn't anything I can do to help my parents, and I can't fix my own problems. My problems are a lot bigger than accidentally hurting a friend or lying to a classmate. I don't know how to fix things for myself.

So, I'm stuck wondering, wishing, and hoping that one day they'll come back home.

I wonder what it would be like to meet them. Would it feel awkward since we don't really know each other anymore, or would we fit together perfectly because we're a family? I can only imagine and sometimes I do just that. I go up to the rooftop and watch the sun set or watch my friends and their families down below. I imagine what it would be like for my dad to take me fishing or for my mom to patch me up when I fall off my bike.

I can only imagine.

I came up to the rooftop about an hour ago and I've just been hanging out up here, watching the sky change colors and the clouds drift by. I watched the people down in the street go about their business. Mrs. Vitello was outside sweeping in front of the flower shop and there were a few kids playing stickball in the street.

At one point I saw Lila walking down the sidewalk carrying a bouquet of flowers.

"Hey Lila!" I yelled as loud as I could.

She looked around, confused for a second, before realizing it was me up on the roof. "Oh! Hi, Arnold!" she called. "How are you?"

I shrugged with a sigh that she couldn't have possibly heard. "I'm alright. How are you? Where are you going with those flowers?"

Lila looked at her bouquet, then back up at me and I could barely make out her facial expression. "I'm just taking care of something for my father. I have to go now, though. It was ever so nice to see you, Arnold!"

With that, she kept walking and I picked up my father's journal that had been sitting on a little table nearby. I turned and sat down, leaning against the ledge as I opened the book and perused its pages once more.

I can only read my father's journal and try to imagine that my parents are sitting here with me, telling me about all the adventures they've been on, how they met, how I was born. I can read all about it in the journal but I'd love to hear it from them.

I'd love to actually know them.

Show me the meaning of being lonely. Is this the feeling I need to walk with? Tell me why I can't be there where you are. There's something missing in my heart.

. . . . . . . .

Life goes on as it never ends. Eyes of stone observe the trends. They never say, forever gaze upon me. Guilty roads to an endless love, there's no control. Are you with me now? Your every wish will be done, they tell me…

It never gets easier but I find myself crying less and less every day. Right after the funeral, all I could do was cry myself to sleep every night. Daddy would come in if he happened to hear me. I knew he was in pain too but he still tried to comfort me. He would hold me until I ran out of tears, kiss me goodnight and once he left, I'd cuddle my pillow as tight as I could in an effort to ignore my heavy heart.

I remember the farm. It feels like so long ago and yet, like yesterday all at the same time. I remember sitting on the ground next to my mother as she hung our sheets up on the line to dry and my grape popsicle slowly melted onto my hand. The weather was hot but there was a soothing breeze that blew every so often. I remember the clap of the sheets as a particularly strong gust came through. My mother picked up her now empty basket like she was ready to go and looked at me expectantly. However, I didn't budge. I stared at her, trying to figure out why the doctors thought she was so sick. She looked just as healthy and beautiful as she always had.

Daddy was in the barn tending to the cows so it was just my mother and I out by the line.

"What's goin' on, sugar?" she asked in a voice that reminded me of smooth, golden honey dripping off of a spoon.

I averted my eyes, looking down at the grape puddle in front of me. "Why do they say you're so sick, Mama?" I asked, my voice low and tentative.

My mother set her laundry basket down and knelt in front of me, careful to keep the hem of her dress out of the mess I'd made. She cupped my cheek in her hand and tilted my gaze up to meet hers. Her brown eyes were soft and glistened, though she never cried. Her long blonde hair fell forward and I felt it tickle the hair on my arms which were now wrapped around my knees.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, searching for the words that would make things okay. Little did I know at that time that things wouldn't be okay.

"Lila, darlin', sometimes people can be sick on the inside, but on the outside, you'd never be able to tell," She paused. "When your mama went to the doctor, he found somethin' I never woulda known about if I hadn't gone to see him. I know it's scary," she brushed her thumb gently across my cheek. "But, the good thing is that everything's gonna be alright. Doctor says I gotta take some medicine that'll make me sicker for a while but it's gonna fight all the sickness right outta me. So, don't you worry your pretty little head, understand?"

I nodded and she leaned in, leaving a long kiss on my forehead. I moved in to her, wrapping my arms tightly around her and burying my head into her neck. She squeezed me tightly, picking me up and spinning me in a circle before setting me back down on my feet. She picked up her laundry basket and turned back to me.

"Now how's about you and I go check on your daddy, hmm? Maybe he'll let you milk Ol' Ellie again," she smiled, putting her free hand out for me to take.

I bounded along with her back to the farmhouse, never realizing how things would change.

But they did.

Mama started that medicine she told me about. I remember how sick she was all the time, and how tired. It got to the point where she couldn't do all her chores out on the farm anymore so Daddy had to do them. I tried to help him with the things I could but I was only seven by that time so I couldn't do everything by myself. I spent a lot of time in the house, tending to Mama when she needed it. Sometimes I would bring her crackers or ginger snaps. I always made sure she had a glass of water by her side. When she wasn't stuck in bed, she'd spend her time in an old orange and red plaid recliner in the living room. She'd be dressed in a robe, her reading glasses perched on her nose as she flipped through one of her novels.

I just wanted to sit by her side. We didn't have to talk. I just wanted to be near her, that way, if she needed somebody, she had me.

But Mama got sicker and one night we had to drive all the way to the hospital with her. We had a lot of land so it was a pretty long drive and Mama was moaning in the front seat. She had a paper bag for her nausea but silent tears rolled down her cheeks from the pain. I knew she was trying to keep herself together for my sake but I could still tell how miserable she was.

They never let her leave the hospital. We thought she was going to be able to come home once they got her stabilized but every time we thought she was getting better, she'd take a downward turn. They had her in a room with two other ladies at first. Curtains separated each of the beds but you could still hear the other patients and their visitors.

I remember Daddy sitting by my mother's hospital bed, gripping her hand firmly in his as her half-lidded, tired eyes focused on his face. A tear escaped his eye and he quickly brushed it away, kissing her hand and reaching up to push her hair away from her face.

About a week later they moved her to a private room. We originally thought she was going to go into rehabilitative care so that she could regain enough functioning to come home. The doctors said she needed to be here though.

One day before we went into her new room, Daddy pulled me aside outside the door. He told me that Mama was very sick, sicker than she had been before. I knew things weren't going as planned.

When we walked in, Mama looked like she was sleeping. She was only hooked up to one machine now compared to the few she'd had in her old room. She didn't have as many needles in her arm and she had little tubes in her nose to help her breathe.

I walked up to her bedside and she must have sensed I was there because her eyes opened immediately and she smiled. She motioned for me to come closer and when I did, she pulled me in for a hug. I was afraid to touch her, though. I didn't want to accidentally knock out one of her needles and make her hurt even more.

"Your mama loves you, you know that babygirl?" her voice was barely a whisper. I nodded. "I know things aren't goin' the way they were supposed to but you know what?" she asked with a little more pep in her voice before whispering again. "Everything's gonna be okay. Because I'm always gonna be with you,"

"But why do you have to go?" I pleaded.

My mother sighed. "'Cause I gotta go to heaven soon. Everybody's gotta go sometime. You remember 'heaven' from Sunday school, don't ya?" I nodded again. "Well, it's my turn to go. I didn't know it before and I wasn't preparing for it but that's what I have to do now,"

"Why can't I go with you?" I asked, my own tears now freely streaming down my face.

Mama's eyes watered but she blinked furiously to keep from crying. "Because it's not your time to go. It's my turn and I can't fight it," She pulled me in for another hug. "But I'll always be with you. Keep me in your heart and you'll never lose me. Even if you can't see me anymore," she rubbed my back and then pushed me away slightly so she could look at me. "You gotta do something for me, though. Promise me you'll always be just as sweet as you are right now. Don't let anybody bring your spirit down,"

I nodded, whimpering, as my tears dripped onto my mother's hospital gown.

After Mama died, Daddy eventually lost the farm. He couldn't take care of it on his own and I couldn't do everything that Mama used to do. We moved into a run-down old house in Hillwood, much smaller than our farmhouse, so that Daddy could try and find a job in the city. Things were pretty rough at first and we barely had anything to eat for a while but after Daddy started working again, things got better.

Today is Mama's birthday so I wanted to do something nice for her. Daddy had to work late so I stopped into Mrs. Vitello's flower shop on my own. I picked out the most beautiful bouquet I could find: Tiger lilies, Mama's favorite. I was making my way down the sidewalk when I heard a voice call my name.

"Hey Lila!"

I looked around, trying to figure out where the voice had come from when I realized I was in front of the boarding house and it was Arnold up on the roof. "Oh! Hi, Arnold! How are you?"

He shrugged wistfully and I wondered if maybe something was wrong but he seemed fine. "I'm alright. How are you? Where are you going with those flowers?"

I looked at the bouquet in my hands and hoped he didn't see the way my lip quivered slightly. "I'm just taking care of something for my father. I have to go now, though. It was ever so nice to see you, Arnold!"

I kept walking and tried not to think about my mother too much on the way, lest I start crying again.

Eventually I ran into Helga on the bridge over City Lake. As I came nearer, I noticed she looked especially upset. Her arms were crossed over the ledge and she had her head resting on them as she gazed down at the water.

"Why, hello Helga," I put on my cheeriest face. Maybe I could cheer her up if I tried.

Instead, she jumped as if I had stuck her with a pin and spun around to face me.

"Criminy! What the heck are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?!" she yelled, furrowing her brow. As she calmed down she added, "What do you want anyway, Liiiila?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Nothing," I shook my head. I didn't like it when she said my name like that but I would never tell her. "I was just wondering if you were okay,"

Helga scoffed. "I'm peachy, right as rain, high as a kite, fan-freaking-tastic!" She rolled her eyes at me. "Now run along, Little Miss Mary Sunshine,"

I realized our conversation wasn't going to go anywhere so I kept walking.

"Bye Helga," I said over my shoulder.

I knew exactly where to go once I got to the cemetery. Mama had chosen this cemetery before she died because some of her relatives had also been buried here. I walked up the path and over a small hill to the area where Mama's and a few of her cousins' grave sites were located.

I laid the bouquet against her tombstone and knelt down. There was no one around and I let myself cry openly.

"Happy birthday, Mama," I felt my nose starting to stuff up and I sniffled to no avail. "I miss you… and Daddy does, too, I know it. I know you're still with me in my heart and I know you're watching over me but I just wish you were really here…"

Show me the meaning of being lonely. Is this the feeling I need to walk with? Tell me why I can't be there where you are. There's something missing in my heart.

. . . . . . . .

There's nowhere to run, I have no place to go. Surrender my heart, body, and soul. How can it be you're asking me to feel the things you never show?

I get so sick of this house. I feel trapped every minute I spend here and there's nothing I can do about it. All Big Bob cares about is himself and his stupid beeper company. Plus, I'm still mad at him for calling Arnold an "orphan boy" a while back at the Parent's Day Tournament. He just doesn't get it.

Miriam's passed out behind the couch again. Big surprise there. Those smoothies she drinks all the time? Yeah, I know they aren't just "smoothies". I know a lot more than anyone thinks I do but it's not like anyone around here would notice, even if I started professing quantum physics at the dinner table. They have their perfect daughter and that's Olga. They got it right the first time and I'm just chopped liver.

Why does she have to be so freaking perfect anyway? Oh, would you like to hear this new piano piece I performed at the big, fancy-schmancy symphony I performed for disadvantaged Inuit children last month? Criminy! When is enough, enough? And of course Big Bob and Miriam never can get enough. Miriam even sobers up more when Olga's around. Guess that tells ya somethin'.

Big Bob only pays any attention to me when I can do something to make the Pataki name look better. That usually involves winning contests of some sort and sometimes I go along with it but other times I just don't care. Winning some stupid prize isn't gonna make him care or make either of them change and I know it.

Olga drowns me in affection when she comes home to visit but it drives me nuts because I can't help but resent her. I mean, why did she have to get all the good genes? Why couldn't she leave some for me, huh? Then again, maybe Bob and Miriam weren't planning on a "me"…

Sometimes I feel like they'd all be happier if I hadn't been born. Maybe my parents would be happier together. Olga really is all they need - She's beautiful, smart, talented… everything they could ever want.

To be honest, I get tired of being angry all the time but I don't know how to deal any other way. And really, I am angry. I'm angry that no one notices me at home. Half the time it seems like they only pay attention to me if I'm doing something wrong or if they want something from me. What kind of family is that?

But Patakis have to be tough, ya know. Can't show any weakness. That's a concept Big Bob likes to drill into my head and that's why he made such a big deal over me having to visit Dr. Bliss.

I didn't wanna go see her at first but she turned out to be pretty okay. Even after I went a little nuts and confessed my undying love for Arnold, she didn't laugh or kick me out or anything. We talked about a lot of stuff, including how much my family sucks.

I told her about my first day of preschool which is the earliest memory I have. Olga was playing piano for Bob and Miriam, again, and no one gave a crap that I had to go to school. I ended up walking to school by myself in the rain. A car splashed mud all over me and some mangy dog took my lunchbox. I think I would've cried if Arnold hadn't appeared out of nowhere with an umbrella over my head.

Speaking of the Football-head, I saw him earlier today. I saw him up on the roof of the boarding house, staring up into the clouds as I was walking down the street. I didn't want him to see me watching, though, so I hid behind the side of a building. I wish I could have the same kind of care-free, peaceful existence that he has in his life. Everyone likes this boy and he deserves it. He's kind, generous, helpful, smart, courteous… I mean, the list could go on and on. Me? I'm none of those things.

Eventually I stopped watching and kept walking, though I'm sure I could've stayed there all day. There were other people around so I couldn't risk staying in one place too long and having someone catch me watching his rooftop.

There's this bridge I like to go to when I need to get away from my house and think. Big Bob and Miriam were downstairs arguing about something – probably the fact that Miriam burned dinner since she passed out on the countertop. I got sick of the yelling and that's when I left.

When I got to the bridge, I slumped over the edge and looked down, spitting into the water occasionally and watching the ripples that formed.

I wished I didn't have to go back home. I hated being in that house. It's hard to explain just how bad it feels to be completely ignored by everyone around you in your own home. Really, I wish things were different. I want to get along with my family, I want them to care about me, and those few times that they actually pay attention to me are great. But it always goes back to the same old routine and I'm not going to put myself out there just to get burned. Sometimes I feel like I'm trapped in a glass box, screaming my lungs out for someone to hear me and nobody even looks up. They don't hear me, and they don't care.

"Why, hello Helga," A particularly perky voice startled me out of my thoughts.

Instantly, my sadness disappeared and was replaced by that infamous Pataki fury.

"Criminy! What the heck are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?!" I yelled, furrowing my brow as Lila stared at me. "What do you want anyway, Liiiila?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Nothing," She shook her head and I could tell my defenses were working. "I was just wondering if you were okay,"

"I'm peachy, right as rain, high as a kite, fan-freaking-tastic!" I scoffed and rolled my eyes at her. "Now run along, Little Miss Mary Sunshine,"

She kept walking but not without calling "Bye Helga," over her shoulder.

I turned back to my original position, staring down at the water once again.

I knew I couldn't stay out much longer. I was getting really hungry and even if Miriam had ruined dinner, I had to have something to eat.

I grudgingly left the bridge and started to walk home.

I wished someone understood the way I was. It's not that I really want to be as mean as I am sometimes, but no one would understand if I wasn't. Or even worse, they'd all make fun of me.

Phoebe knows enough to give me some support when I need it but she still doesn't get it. And the worst part is, I don't really know how to tell anyone how I feel at home because that would be opening up a can of worms that I'm just not ready to get into.

Still, I wish someone understood what it was like to feel so alone.

Show me the meaning of being lonely. Is this the feeling I need to walk with? Tell me why I can't be there where you are. There's something missing in my heart.

[A/N: And there you have it! I hope you guys enjoyed my little experiment. I thought it would be fun to do something a bit different. Let me know what you think! :)]