Greetings! For those who don't know, my SN way back when was Carrot Top, and I wrote some Hey, Arnold! fanfics. I had an OC named Samantha Walker who was the school librarian and was created as a mentor/Big Sis kind of character to Helga. She was my way to 'mother' Helga because I loved that little girl so. Yes, she's a Mary Sue in the strictest sense. I was young. I didn't know any better.

A fellow HA fan from the early days requested I post them so she could read them again. So I dusted them off and decided to toss 'em up.

So here you go! Circa 1998 or so, my very first foray into fic writing. Enjoy!

The HA kids don't belong to me, but Sammy does.

Chapter 1:

HELGA DECIDES

Night. When darkness steals the light away. When the events of the day return to replay themselves in our minds before sleep envelopes us. When we are at our most vulnerable, and anything seems possible. A time to renew our energy for the coming day.

In the city of Hillwood, a bustling metropolis that featured a flavor for every taste and a store for every interest, life went on busily after the sun went to bed. The kids in Mr. Simmons' 4th grade class passed the time doing what kids will.

Stinky and Sid were sitting at the kitchen table of Stinky's humble, but warm, home. They were helping each other with the homework due the next day.

Harold was watching tv and devouring a bowl of popcorn.

Phoebe was in the exercise room, fencing with her father.

Rhonda and Nadine were on the phone, talking. (Actually, Rhonda was doing most of the talking, rambling on about what the fashion scene was up to lately, with Nadine listening as only a best friend could.)

Eugene was tending to the various scrapes and bruises he had received during the day.

Gerald was trying desperately to stay away from his brother. Jamie O had learned a new wrestling move and had 'volunteered' his little brother to be his 'practicing dummy'. Much to Gerald's dismay.

Arnold was in his room reading a Purdy Boy Mystery while listening to music.

And Helga?

Well, Helga was in the only place she felt she could truly be herself. The only place she felt comfortable enough to lower the shield she had built around her heart. She was sitting in her closet, facing the shrine dedicated to her one true love and writing in her little pink book.

"Oh, Arnold, my love!" she swooned. "Yet another day has gone by and still you are unaware of my feelings for you! Will I always be such a coward when it comes to expressing myself to you? Will I never have the courage to confess the love that has burned inside of me for as long as I have known you? Will I ever show you the true girl, the REAL Helga Geraldine Pataki, as opposed to the loud, mean, aggressive bully that has belittled, taunted and insulted you for almost all of your young life?"

She paused, worry marking her young features.

"Will you even care anymore if and when I finally have the courage to tell you?" she whispered fearfully.

This was serious. Helga had loved Arnold for 6 years, and she was no closer to telling him the truth now than she was then. Her every attempt to be nice to the boy, to show him that she was more that just a bully, had ended in failure. All because she had to keep up her reputation. Her image.

Helga frowned. Why did she have to act so tough? Why couldn't she just be a normal girl, and show what she feels like everyone else? Why must she always tuck her emotions away whenever anyone tries to get close? WHY?

Downstairs, her father, Big Bob, shouted at the tv. He was watching a football game, and getting worked up. Again. With Big Bob, it didn't really matter what was on (football, hockey, basketball, baseball or pro wrestling) his responses were pretty much the same. Loud and hostile.

Because, I'm a Pataki, she answered herself with a grimace. And Patakis don't show signs of weakness. And to Big Bob, any emotion besides anger was a sign of weakness. Helga had learned this at an early age.

But, OLGA was allowed to cry, she thought angrily. OLGA cried at the drop of a hat! Of course, OLGA was PERFECT. OLGA could do no wrong. And, as her father was always reminding her, she was nothing like her big sister Olga.

But was that such a bad thing? Helga was just as smart as Olga—proven when her class had taken the aptitude test—but more importantly, Helga had more street sense. She didn't just blindly trust people like Olga did. In Olga's own words, Helga was 'an excellent judge of character'.

In a lot of ways, Helga was more mature than her sister. If Olga didn't get her way, she cried. She pouted. She would lock herself in her room and listen to depressing music, all the while moaning and whining about how unfair her life was. That was how she got her way. When Helga wanted her way, she usually thought of a way to get it. Helga was very clever when it came to getting what she wanted—she had to be, after all, with Olga forever overshadowing her.

Olga was primped and fussed over, Helga wasn't. Olga had everything handed to her, Helga had to work for it. And, although Helga didn't know it, and to her it certainly didn't feel like it, she got the better end of the deal. Growing up like that had made her a much stronger and more independent person than her sister. This means, simply put, that no matter what hardships may lay ahead of her, Helga Pataki will have no problems taking care of herself.

But this thought never occurred to Helga because no one, not even she, had ever dared to think that Olga might not be as perfect as she's made out to be.

Helga heard a soft 'snap'. She looked down and discovered she had broken her pencil in half. Just the thought of her sister stirred up such anger inside! Why can't I just let it go? she thought.

"OLGA! Did you take out the trash, yet?" Big Bob called up the stairs. Helga scowled. That's why.

"It's HELGA, Dad. HELGA!"

"Whatever, just take out the garbage!" he replied in an annoyed tone. Helga angrily slammed her poetry book shut with a growl and stood.

Criminey! It's bad enough he barely talks to me, but does he have to keep calling me by HER name? she thought as she headed downstairs to do her chore. Her mother, Miriam, was sitting at the kitchen table, half-heartedly looking through the newspaper. Helga wasn't surprised to see the remains of a smoothie in her oversized coffee mug.

"Helga, did you finish your homework, honey?" she asked in her usual tired voice as her daughter lifted the trash bag.

"Yes, Miriam," Helga sighed.

"That's a good girl."

As she hauled the garbage out, Helga thought about her parents. She didn't really have a close relationship with either of them. All her dad seemed to think about was his beeper store or whatever game happened to be on tv, and her mom was always moping around the house, usually with a smoothie cup in hand. Miriam sometimes hit the 'smoothies' pretty hard, and Helga supposed that if she were married to a man like Big Bob, she would probably turn to something that would, if only temporarily, numb the crushing pain of disappointment, too. Especially if her smoothies had a healthy dollop of vodka in them like her mother's.

Yep, her parents weren't exactly shining examples of unbridled parental love and energy. Unless OLGA came home that is. When SHE came home, they were always so happy, they were practically bouncing off the walls! Suddenly they turned into this loving 'family unit', all because their precious first born was home. Everything was ALWAYS Olga, Olga, OLGA!

Helga looked down and saw that in her anger, she had clenched the garbage bag so tight it was starting to tear. With a surprising amount of concentrated effort, she relaxed her fingers and dropped the bag into the trashcan. She wasn't sure what made her angrier; the fact that Olga was considered 'perfect', or the fact that she had a closer relationship to their parents than Helga did.

Helga grabbed some cookies on her way back through the kitchen before returning to her room. It was getting late and tomorrow was a school day, after all. She ate her snack as she hid her Shrine and planted a good night kiss on 'Arnold's' cheek before closing the closet door. Then she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, thinking all the while.

Maybe the reason I'm no closer to confessing the truth to Arnold is because I don't have anyone to confide in. Between my obsession with him, and my less-than-stellar family life, I've got all these emotions rolling around inside me, and they just keep knocking into each other. It's all festering in there and, aside from my poetry, I have no outlet. It's like a big block on my chest. No matter what I do, I always end up back at square one. If I could talk to SOMEONE about my feelings, maybe I can see them from a new angle. Maybe I could even get past all this anger.

She smiled as she headed back to her room, and changed into her nightshirt. It would be nice to talk to someone, she thought as she took out her bow and brushed her long blonde hair. Someone who'll listen to me. Someone who understands.

Helga turned out the light and lay down in bed. Slumber was already coming for her as she curled up into her favorite sleeping position, but she was still thinking about tomorrow.

Tomorrow, she decided. I'll start looking for someone tomorrow.

When sleep came to take her, Helga G. Pataki went willingly enough. She was still smiling.

~End of Chapter 1~