Phantom: So, I've recently gotten back into Hey Arnold!, and since my obsession is currently in its prime, I decided to write a story. I hope you enjoy it.
Goulash, with a Side of Confessions
"Criminy, what a day! You'd think this darn weather would let up just a bit," Helga griped, balancing a stack of books against her chest with one arm whilst holding an umbrella with the other.
"I must say, it's unusual to be having so much rain at this time of the year; normally by now we would be getting snow!" Phoebe replied cheerfully, trotting alongside.
"Well, at least I won't be freezing my tits off at the folks' place, unlike that dump of a dorm room we live in." Helga muttered. "Seriously, when are they going to install some damned heating? We've only been there four years." her tone dripped sarcasm.
"You must be looking forward to more than just being warm, Helga. It's Christmas! And you haven't seen your family since last winter."
Helga glared at her best friend. "What have I got to look forward to, Pheebs? Miriam will burn the stuffing and the goulash – like she always does – Big Bob will sit in the recliner watching sport reruns all day, and Olga will be taking over in the kitchen like some sort of control-freak Stepford Wife while her mopey, unemployed husband sits there holding the baby that constantly cries and screams! I tell ya, Pheebs, it's gonna be real eventful."
"But Helga, your grandparents are coming all the way from Hungary to stay with you, this year…"
"Yeah, so? I've only met them like, three times." Helga dismissed. "Anyway, what are you and Geraldo doing this year?"
"We'll be going to stay with my Mom and Dad for a few days, since there isn't a lot of room at the Johanssen's, now that Timberly's had the baby and all…"
"I still can't believe that." Helga said flatly. "What is she – eighteen?!"
"Sixteen," Phoebe blushed.
"Right, hmph," Helga scoffed. "What a moron."
It had been an outright scandal when Gerald's younger sister, Timberly, had fallen pregnant accidentally, but somehow, the family was getting by. Nobody had been happy about it, except for, maybe, Timberly herself – but then again, she wasn't the brightest spark, and had no idea what to expect when it came to motherhood. Her family wouldn't have dreamt of turning her out, but it certainly wasn't easy. Still, she had a lot of family support and though it was hard at times, the baby girl brought a lot of joy to their lives.
Helga and Phoebe finally made it back to their dorm and busted open the door, saturated from the rain. Helga quickly dumped her sodden books down carelessly by her bed, picked a couple back up, gave them a once-over, and tossed one into her overnight bag.
"Some light reading," she shrugged, as Phoebe rolled her eyes.
Phoebe knew Helga would be coming back to college straight after the Christmas holidays into sitting her final exams and would need to be studying. Then again – doing a double degree in law and English literature, majoring in both criminal law and poetry, no less – Helga wasn't the type that really needed to do much study. She was entirely too intelligent for her own good, could debate a point until she was blue in the face – which Phoebe knew would make her an excellent court lawyer – and usually passed her tests and exams with flying colours. Truth be told, Helga was mildly bored of college and hadn't found it much of a challenge.
Being Helga's roommate for the past four years, Phoebe knew this all too well. Her best friend had always been a complicated creature, but she knew without a doubt that, although she would become a force to reckon with in the courtroom one day, Helga's passion was for poetry.
Ever since their first day at P.S 118 16 years ago, Phoebe had been the one privileged being whom Helga let in on her deepest secret – her obsessive love for Arnold. The poetry she wrote even back then was exquisite, and she had gone on to win many high school and college poetry competitions. If you didn't know better, one might think Helga G. Pataki wasn't one for poetry, but Phoebe knew she had a sensitive, soulful side, too, that the outside world rarely got a glimpse of.
"Well Pheebs, I'm hitting the road. Time to get outta this dump for a few weeks."
"Alright, Helga. Be careful on the road; the conditions look atrocious out there!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. You know me. When's Gerald coming to pick you up?"
"He'll be around later this evening. I've got a few things I want to wrap up here before we go."
"Does that include Christmas presents?" Helga raised an eyebrow enquiringly.
"Nope, I've done all that!" Phoebe grinned. "Speaking of which…" she pulled out a small box wrapped in purple wrapping paper and handed it to her.
Helga grimaced inwardly, thinking of the pile of gifts she'd bought but hadn't yet wrapped, sitting in the bags they had come in on the back seat of her car…and the present she still hadn't wrapped for Phoebe.
"Damn it, Pheebs, you know I haven't wrapped yours up yet!"
"Oh Helga, of course I know!"
"Yeah, I bet you already know what it is, too, don't you?" Helga scoffed and walked to her bedroom. She picked up the two tickets to the Hillwood Annual Physics and Astronomy Exhibition off of her dressing table.
"Well, they ain't wrapped, but, Merry Christmas, Pheebs." Helga said as she handed the tickets to Phoebe.
"Oh, Helga! How did you know I wanted to go to this?"
The blonde girl shrugged. "It's 'nerd central' so I figured you and Gerald would fit right in."
"Thanks, Helga…I hope you like your present, too."
"I'll open it on Christmas morning. But now, I gotta hit the road or I'll get stuck in traffic. Smell ya later."
"Uh…Helga?"
"Hm?" Helga barely had a nanosecond to breathe before the tiny black-haired young woman came up and hugged her.
"Merry Christmas, bestie! I know you'll have a simply swell time with your family. And enjoy your holiday to Mexico in the New Year!"
Helga tensed up and then softened, returning the embrace. If anyone, she would always have a soft-spot for Phoebe. Quickly she pried herself free.
"Alright already! Sheesh! Merry Christmas to you, too. I'll see you when I get back from Mexico. And make sure you text me!"
"Making sure!"
Phoebe's dainty voice chimed down the hallway after Helga as she wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck, shrugged her bag over her shoulder, and made her way down into the parking lot, where her crummy little green car awaited for the long journey back to Hillwood.
Criminy, this traffic won't even budge! Helga protested inside her head. There's gotta be a shortcut somewhere around here…
It seemed like the entire township of Wellington was shaping up and shipping out for the Christmas holidays, including many college students. For some reason, bad weather always made the traffic worse. Helga sighed heavily, honked the horn like so many other horn-honkers and checked herself out in her rear vision mirror for boredom's sake.
At around about the age of twelve, when she was starting to change from a shapeless prepubescent girl into a more womanly teenager, Helga had been subjected to torturous shopping outings with Olga at almost every opportunity. Long-gone were the pink pinafores, pigtails and tennis shoes. Even though Olga was trying to morph Helga into a mini-me, Helga cared so little about her appearance anyway that she didn't really mind what her older sister did to her, if it meant keeping her happy.
It wasn't until she had been treated to a spa and beauty treatment for her thirteenth birthday that her attitude towards becoming more feminine began to change. In her first year of high school, Helga was tormented relentlessly about her mono-brow by the other girls, in which she promptly either beat every single one of them to a pulp, or cunningly found a way to blackmail them so they would leave her be. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd committed either task – ever since her days at P.S 118, she was a seasoned pro.
But, once she let it slip that she was being bullied (for once in her life) by the other girls, Olga had immediately made it her life ambition to do whatever she could to put a stop to it. She promptly booked an appointment at the spa – using the excuse of it being a "birthday gift" – and the two went for a top-to-toe makeover. Nails were clipped and filed back, exfoliants and facials were applied in excess, limbs were waxed to smoothest perfection and brows were plucked to within an inch of their life – the whole shebang. Afterwards, Helga looked and felt like a whole new person – and she liked what she saw. Now she finally understood what Olga had been prattling on about all these years.
Helga was so impressed by the results that, from that day on, she waxed her eyebrows every month and finally grew out the dorky bowl-cut fringe she had sported her entire life and wore her hair down around her shoulders. Needless to say, her high school peers were dumbfounded by the transformation and even the boys' heads were turning.
Now that Helga rocked long, sleek, ice-blonde hair that fell to the middle of her back with a stylish centre part – not even a hint of a fringe left in sight – her plan for world domination was closer within reach. In a weird but somehow liberating victory ceremony, she and Olga had burned the pink bow at a bonfire on the beach one night that had forever been emblazoned as her childhood crown, and now Helga owned not one piece of pink-coloured apparel, preferring tones such as dove grey, white, blue, green, black, tan and tartan, which made her eastern European features look all the more striking.
By the time Helga had sat at the same traffic lights for five consecutive traffic-light changes, going on twenty-five minutes, she decided it was time for an intervention. In a barely-controlled fit of rage, she swerved out onto the other side of the road and manoeuvred a U-turn up and over the island with military precision. Her tiny car held on for all its life was worth as she put her foot to the floor.
"Move it, losers!"
Helga switched back a few times and took some side-streets, but she felt like she was making better progress than sitting on the main highway idle. However, other fellow holidaymakers were still not spared her wrath.
"Get. Out. Of. My. WAY!"
After about thirty minutes of zigzagging and backtracking, Helga finally came to the outskirts of Hillwood – albeit from a completely different direction – and some of the major landmarks of the city were starting to come into view. As she crossed the bridge over the Skookumchuk River, a mixed wave of calm and nostalgia hit her.
It had been a year since Helga had been home, mainly due to studies, but also because Olga had been living at the Pataki's with her husband who had recently become unemployed. Since they'd had a new baby six months before, there was no way they could afford to stay in their home, with Olga being a stay-at-home mother, and her husband with no job. Big Bob had taken pity on the man and employed him at the Beeper King until something better came up.
Man, it's raining cats and dogs! Helga thought as she cruised through the city, passing by Elk Island. She wasn't too far from home, now.
Through the murky windscreen and sheets of rainwater, Helga made out some familiar shops and houses. Even after more than ten years, Gerald Park was still a vacant lot – although it had become more of a dumpster again, of late.
Well, I guess some things never change.
As Helga was about to take off at a green light, a pedestrian came out of nowhere and ran straight across the road in front of her.
"Criminy!"
Helga screeched on her brakes and sat on the horn, a vitriolic stream of expletives spewing from her mouth. The pedestrian didn't so much as look back or gesture an apology but continued running blindly across the intersection, his pathetic umbrella blown inside-out and now rendered completely useless.
Does that guy have a death wish or something?!
Obviously, he was trying to get out of the storm, but that was no excuse for jay-walking in Helga's book.
Now would be the perfect time for that jackass to have an impromptu lecture about how he nearly killed himself – and me, for that matter.
She swerved right up by the sidewalk next to him, submerging him in gutter water. Helga mentally high-fived herself – if he wasn't wet before, her certainly was now.
"Do you have any idea what you just did back there, bucko?!" Helga shrieked as she rolled down the passenger's side window. "I almost flattened, ya, that's what! I had right of way!"
The figure stood there, motionless for a moment, with his parka hood pulled up and completely drenched, clenching and unclenching his fists in what looked like passive-aggressive rage. Finally, after what Helga assumed were a few breaths to calm himself, he turned his head to face her. Neither of them could have known what was coming.
Helga shrank back into her seat in shock. "…Arnold?!"
"…Helga?"
Phantom: Oooh a cliff-hanger on the first chapter?! How dare I?! Muahahaha…stay tuned for the next instalment!