This one is part one of a request by J.A.M. a.k. i. It may not be what you envisioned, but I hope you like it. Cheers! (P.S. This takes place right after "Scrapbooks".)
It was the very first, very golden day of summer break. Fourth grade was now officially over and Arnold Shortman, officially now had a crush on Helga G. Pataki. Middle name "Geraldine". The blonde-haired girl from Hillwood.
How had it happened? Subtlety, that was for sure! A few days before Arnold had been taking pictures with her in the park and last night, Arnold had pasted Helga's photograph into his new scrapbook. As he done so, something within him had stirred. A realization that maybe Helga belonged there, in his life, and that he, Arnold Shortman, liked it!
To be honest with himself, the crush was a long time coming. It wasn't as if he had disliked any the kisses Helga had given him. It wasn't a though she wasn't, in her own, bold way, amazingly stunning at times. Especially when she wore her hair down or was unexpectedly kind. No the spell Helga had woven on him had been a long time in chanting and now, as time rolled both of them forward towards the fifth grade, Arnold Shortman was hooked on the most unlikely of romances.
Above his head, there was a crack. The loud sound of a baseball being smashed was dull to the ears of the daydreaming boy and he almost was hit with the baseball. Almost. It was his good fortune that Eugene happened to be nearby so the ball was pulled almost magnetically towards that boy instead.
"Ow!" Eugene complained loud enough to wake Arnold from his reverie. But Helga had had enough. Her daydreaming teammate had better have an explanation for why his head was not in the game and so, with practiced menace, Helga stomped across the field to encounter Arnold. She lifted up the protective face mask she now wore these days.
"All right, Hair-Boy!" Helga uttered, standing before Arnold so that she towered. Her eyes flexed in confusion as Arnold did not shirk as usual. Instead, he gazed up at her with an increasingly bemused expression. Helga jabbed a finger at Arnold's chest for extra emphasis, but again, there was a dull reaction. In fact, if anything, Arnold's smile was getting even wider.
"We've come here to play baseball and look at us! No outs and they've got five runs! What have you got to say for yourself?"
"Helga," Arnold mumbled out loud in admiration of the girl.
"Yes, that's my name!" said the girl growing more frustrated. "Now what have you got to say for yourself?"
"Hm, ah? I'm sorry. What was the conversation about again?"
"Arnold!" Helga shouted, now so frustrated that she stamped her little foot hard against the ground as though she imagined stepping on his neck. "What's wrong with you? Your football-headed brain is more busted than usual! Do you have head trauma or somethin'?"
"Huh? Ah. Maybe I do," said Arnold. "Maybe I should sit this one out." With a backwards stare, Arnold walked over towards the bleachers that had been moved behind the pitcher's mound and sat down on them, only to stare at Helga as she crouched beside the first base as catcher.
"Ahhhh!" Arnold sighed in happiness at seeing the girl. Then he shook his head, the haze of his crush finally clearing. He had slept with Helga's picture under his pillow last night. But he had known Helga forever! She knew him as well as peanut butter and jam know bread. They were best friends- sorta.
During much of the fourth grade they were at odds with one another. But after FTI, the April Fool's Dance, Rhonda's Marriage Predictor, and the time Arnold had saved Helga in a graveyard from a 'ghost' which turned out to be Curly in disguise, much had changed between them. The clincher had been when Arnold's secret journal had been stolen and Helga had gotten it back. Plus now he knew for certain that Helga had written the Pink Book and been Cecil.
Argumentative, territorial, jealous, convoluted, complicated Miss Helga Pataki! Former model and bad-ass girl. Come to think of it, Arnold had always preferred the soft, weak looking kind of girl before because they had seemed less menacing. More approachable. But he was experienced in the matters of love now, wasn't he? Wasn't it time to try for something a little higher? Something, or rather someone, who had the strength to clock him but whose curves were firmly muscled and slender? And remembering all those times Helga had forced him to carry her, he knew her skin was like a rose. This might, officially, be the worst crush he had ever had!
Arnold shook his head again, trying to clear it. Here it was the first day of summer and he was missing out on baseball! Maybe he should get a drink out of the cooler stowed beneath the bench then get back into the game, Arnold thought to himself. Popping the top off a bottle, he drank, then wiped the moisture from his mouth. Arnold twisted his head a bit to spot Helga watching him- or rather his lips. Her thirsty eyes met his own and Arnold could not help himself. He stared back at Helga, his eyes thirsty with want and need. Shocked to the core, Helga dropped the catcher's mitt she was holding into the dust.
"Arnold?" she muttered too softly to be heard, then slapped herself. Arnold flushed bright red. He had just been making googly eyes at Helga Pataki of all people! And from the look on her face, she knew! Head bowed down with shame, Arnold jogged away as rapidly as he could. When he made the nearest alley, he took it and leant back against the wall, panting.
That had been so embarrassing! Even Gerald must have seen the look Arnold had given Helga! So, mortified without measure, Arnold did the only thing he could think to do now. He hid. But not at his house where Gerald could find him. No! Instead Arnold ducked into ( ) Park. A sudden thought occurred to Arnold and his feet took him almost of their own accord to one of the less frequented parts of the park. Arnold stopped beside the tree where Helga had broken up with Stinky Peterson. On this tree, Helga had carved an oddly football-headed shape encircled by a heart. Arnold had pondered at the symbol from time to time as he passed by it flying his kite, but he had found a good share more of Helga's 'graffiti' higher up in the branches. He knew precisely what it was. With a gooey, doe-eyed grin, Arnold leant closer to the the bark of the tree and pressed his lips to Helga's love carving.
"Whatcha doin'?" came a small boy's voice from directly behind Arnold. It was Radish Boy, formerly known as Chocolate Boy.
"Uh, hello Radish Boy," said Arnold awkwardly, his arms still wrapped around the tree. "How are you doing?"
"Kissin' a tree! Kissin' a tree!" the boy complained before stuffing a few more radishes into his mouth.
"Ah, you won't mention this to anyone… will you?" Arnold asked meekly, his cheeks stained with red.
"Nah. Arnold friend!" said Radish Boy stuffing a few more radishes into his mouth. Arnold was especially glad he had helped the boy, now!
"Thanks," Arnold said dully. It was no good to stay here. He might as well go home!
Inevitably, Gerald was going to ask him about what he had seen today, and sure enough, as Arnold dragged his reluctant footsteps home, Gerald was waiting for him on his stoop. It looked like Gerald was in a lecturing mood, too.
"What was that?!" Gerald got into it without preamble. "That must have been the most sickening scene these eyes have ever witnessed!" said Gerald pointing two fingers up at his eyes as if they had been jabbed. "You, making bedroom eyes with Helga Pataki? What's wrong with you, man!"
"I don't know, Gerald," said Arnold. "I can't explain it. All of a sudden I've got this crush or something. All I know is when I think of her…." Arnold sputtered off.
"You what?"
"I just wanna… I just wanna taste her tongue in my mouth!"
"Spew man," said Gerald waving Arnold off like a bad air. "That's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard!"
"I know, Gerald," Arnold sighed. "I'm sick."
"I'll say! That girl is poison, man! Like one of those evil agents in an old James Bond movie. She's just trying to get you on her side and then, wham! When your guard's down she'll hit you with all she's got! She'll make off with your secret documents and everything else, too!"
"Gerald!" Arnold sighed. "Helga isn't like that. Besides, I think I really care about her. I mean, deep down, I don't think I've ever had it this bad. I'm going out of my mind!" Arnold lamented, a hand tucked over his heart. Gerald regarded him sadly.
"I think this is a bad, bad idea friend! But if you want some relief, then maybe you had better tell her. Who knows! Maybe she'll reject you and you'll be cured of this whole thing!"
"Gerald!" Arnold shouted back, but not because he feared rejection. But the opposite. "I can't tell Helga that! If I do, then...then!" Arnold's eyes grew wide and fretful. In his mind popped up a vision.
"Ding-dong!" Arnold heard in his head. His imaginary self opened the front door to the stoop he was now standing on. An imaginary Helga was standing outside, looking not much older than she was now.
"Hello Football-Head!" she said. "We're moving in! I knew you wouldn't mind! These are your quintuplets, after all!" said Helga suddenly surrounded by five baby carriers with football-headed girls in them. She gave a cruel chuckle. The real Arnold fell to his knees.
"No!" the boy cried reaching out for the sky. "I'm not ready to die! I want to be a child a little longer!"
"Get a hold of yourself!" said Gerald bringing Arnold back to his senses. "You're not going to die and you don't have to tell her if you don't want to! But I would do something to calm down, man. You're a wreck!"
"You're right, Gerald," said Arnold. "So, did Helga go home?" the boy said with some regret. He took Gerald's hand when he offered it and stood.
"She went home as soon as the game was over!" Gerald explained. "Which is good for you! If you calm down and get a good night's sleep, maybe you'll come to your senses!"
"I don't know, Gerald," said Arnold. "I just don't know."
For the next couple of days Arnold saw little of Helga, though he did see her skipping rope outside his back door once. He saw a flash of her also, or rather her pink dress, on his way back from the market with a paper grocery bag in his hand. Arnold had to smile at that. It meant that Helga was still stalking him which, ordinarily, would have creeped him out. But this was Helga he was talking about. The girl was always going in circles about her feelings and this was one way of her doing just that. Instead of coming out directly and asking him what was bothering him, she pretended not to care.
But this was summer, and Arnold was pleasantly surprised when he got an invitation in a fancy envelope in the mail. It was from Rhonda. She was organizing a day at the beach for all her friends. Hoping that this wasn't a repeat of the "Cool Party", Arnold looked up Rhonda's phone number in a bright yellow phone book and called her at her home.
"Oh, my parents own a beach house, not like the tawdy old duplex your Grandpa takes you to!" Rhonda promised. "It's 'moderne'! I've invited all the sports-minded people like yourself! I want to play volleyball," explained Rhonda. "My parents bought me a brand new court JUST for the occasion. There'll be a busboy serving drinks."
"You have a butler?" Arnold asked with disbelief.
"No, it's called catering," said Rhonda, a hint of irritation in her voice because not even her family was wealthy enough to have live-in staff at their Hillwood home. Rhonda hated the insinuation that she might have been richer.
"Oh. Well, I hope I'm not bugging you or anything by asking this but… is Helga coming to the beach?"
"Now why would you ask a thing like that?" asked Rhonda with a wide smile in her voice. "It's not because you've…. oh, say started to get fond on the girl have you?" Arnold grimaced. Rhonda had become a relationship magnet. Somehow- perhaps through telepathy but most likely by instinct and through gossip, she knew everything and anything about everyone in their school. If there was one thing Rhonda liked more than fashion it was gossip! Arnold was treading on dangerous ground.
"It's nothing," Arnold lied. "I just wondered. I haven't seen her around lately."
"Oh," said Rhonda clearly disappointed there wasn't more to gossip about. "That's all. Well, I sent her an invitation. We'll see if she comes, I guess. It's difficult to tell with Helga," said Rhonda speaking woolenly of the girl who was as much a friend as a rival. She and Helga were equal planets in a different solar system. Rhonda respected Helga's territory, while Helga respected hers. Most of the time.
"But how about it?" asked Rhonda, trying to sound upbeat and attractively chipper in an elegant way. "Shall I expect you to be there?"
"I guess so," said Arnold trying not to sound overeager. But he was excited, a little bit!
"Good," said Rhonda as if she had just won a great victory. "See you at nine am, sharp! And don't forget to bring your bathing suit!"
"Right!" Arnold nodded before he hung up the phone. Then his eyes clouded over with delight.
A bathing suit! That meant that Helga would be wearing a bathing suit as well! Not that she usually did! Helga had seldom visited the city pool. Even at the beach she usually wore a shorted swimsuit and lay about sunbathing rather than swimming. But Arnold had seen Helga wearing a swimsuit once and the memory of it had him burning up like he had a fever. It had been when the two of them had won a competition for building sandcastles. The first prize had been to co-star on an episode of "Babe Watch". The show's female lead had gone to give Arnold mouth-to-mouth resuscitation as part of the role, but jealous as usual, Helga had pushed her off. Then she had given him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation instead! With Helga laying atop of him and her mouth on his, Arnold's eyes had rolled in his head. He had forgotten all about the falling out they had about their egg project and Helga's bullying of Summer. He had been drawn to her again like a moth to a flame.
"A bathing suit!" Arnold grinned with a dopey expression. He would go, gladly, just to see that!
A week later, Helga Pataki stood on the sands of the beach, enjoying the sand between her toes. It was the same beach most people used except there was a tall wooden fence and 'keep out, private property' notices all over. The notices made it a little unfriendly, but the sand was warm and the sun bright.
"Who's up for volleyball!" Rhonda Wellington Lloyd said holding up a round, white ball. With a benign smile, Helga lifted her arm up into the air.
"I'm game!" she said before jogging to the sand beside a portable net. Rhonda was an athletic girl, and so Helga and Rhonda warmed up by bashing a few sets back and forth before more volunteers came to join them and it became a proper game. But Arnold didn't volunteer to play for once. He lay on his belly on the sand, watching Helga leap and fall down with a lovesick grin on his face. He was darn lucky Helga didn't notice. Yet.
"Hey, Arnold!" said Sid dropping down on the sand next to Arnold. "You're acting a bit… strange. Are you sick?" Arnold's grin dropped.
"No!" Arnold yelped, shifting his eyes around. "Everything's great Sid, just great…"
"Well," said Sid settling himself down comfortably. It was clear he wasn't going to move on. "If you say, were interested in getting a more long-term look at girls as pretty as these, there is another way."
"What are you talking about Sid?" asked Arnold, his hands balling up angrily. "I'm not looking at anyone!"
"Tsk. Denial!" declared Sid. He pulled a camera from his trademark black leather coat. Which he wore even to the beach, apparently. "If you want to, I can take a photo of a girl for you, old pal! Twenty bucks! That's a thirty percent discount."
"I'm not letting you take a picture for me Sid!" Arnold declared angrily. He stood up, prepared to march away, but so did Sid. He stood there with a cocky grin.
"Then how about you take it?" Sid said holding out his camera for Arnold to take. Arnold whirled around and blinked.
"What?!"
"I said, how about you take one? Go on. I dare you!" Sid smirked. As Arnold stood there, caught between temptation and resolve, Gerald's laughter carried across the beach to them.
"I say, we're in man!" Gerald said snatching the camera from Sid. "This is gonna be the best beach party we've ever had!"
"If we don't get thrown out of it," Arnold muttered.
"Ah, come on, man! You can't tell me you're not interested! You've been staring at that blond all night! So let's do this! You and me and… subterfuge!" said Gerald lifting his hand for a dramatic moment. He shrugged. "After all we are boys. Might as well have fun while we can. If we do stuff like this when we're adults, it's jail time!" Gerald looked through the lense of the camera.
"Gerald's right," Sid declared, as confident in his decision as he was to wear boots. "Let's enjoy ourselves!"
"But Helga!" Arnold protested as he was shoved.
"Ah, we're not going to get caught!" Gerald countered his usual reluctance. They camped out behind a dune nearer to where the girls were playing. Curly hadn't been invited to the party. Yet, he peeked through a gap in the fence all the same.
"Oh, hi Curly!" said Gerald glancing over his shoulder.
"What are you nimrods, doing?" Curly demanded. "Trying to take a picture of sweet Rhonda?"
"No. Not really. We've got our eyes on our own girls," said Gerald giving Arnold a wink and a nudge. "So are you in or out?"
"Out!" said Curly holding up a whole card deck full of photographs from his shirt. "Humph. Amateurs! I've already done that!" Curly cackled and ran away back to the public beach. Arnold lifted a loose board and covered up the gap in the fence.
"Well, I can see Rhonda's got some serious problems in that boy! But we'd better catch up to Curly and do this dare!" Gerald focused the camera then lifted up towards Phoebe. Phoebe was wearing a little blue bikini that was cute on her petite form. As she waited for the volleyball to resume play, her eyes shifted over towards Gerald. He yanked the camera behind his back.
"Gerald, what are you doing?" asked Phoebe.
"Nothing," Gerald said with a fake smile.
"Hm", said Phoebe, pondering. "I was almost certain that I saw something!"
Gerald, Arnold, and Sid walked away. It was not until they breaked for ice cold drinks and snacks that the girls dropped their guard again. Gerald snapped a couple of shots then handed the camera to Arnold.
"There now, man!" he said quite proud of himself. "That's how you do it! Now you try." Arnold looked down at the camera in his hands. He thought.
It would be nice to have another picture of Helga for his scrapbook. The right thing would be to just go over and ask her to pose for a photograph. Helga probably would do it if he asked her to. But Gerald and Sid were looking at him expectantly. It was a dare, and he and Helga were best friends, weren't they? It wasn't like having a photo of her was wrong.
"Okay," said Arnold before creeping closer. He watched Helga as she ate and drank. Hiding the camera behind his back with one hand, Arnold nibbled slowly on a sandwich. He looked up and his eyes met Helga's again briefly, before they flicked away with guilt.
"What are you doing there, Football-Head?" scolded Helga as she took up another sandwich from a platter. "You've been giving me odd looks! Now knock it off before I put your likeness on a football and throw it!"
"Oops! Sorry Helga!" apologized Arnold. He scampered away.
But the beach party was far from over. As the morning turned to proper afternoon. Arnold watched Helga as she swam. He was becoming bored. The camera strap was heavy around his neck and he'd rather be out there swimming, too. He'd give up if this took too much longer!
But then something happened that made Arnold's head perk up in interest. Helga toweled herself off then went off by herself to explore the beach. There was a clump of boulders a hundred feet off and Helga disappeared around them. Arnold climbed up onto the low rock and lay upon it, eavesdropping. Whatever Helga was up to this time, it had him mighty curious. His eyes flickered with a bit of surprise and recognition as Helga pulled a heart-shaped locket from the shirt of her dress.
"Oh, Arnold!" said Helga kissing the locket gently. "My sun-sweet love! How I adore you and your smoldering gaze! Those locks of hair I long to touch! What new torment is this that you confuse me so! Such looks! Such trembling uncertainty! It makes me think, nay, dream for one wild moment that the loving, passionate fires of my heart have kindled in your own! My thrice-blessed love! If only I could know how you really feel!" Helga kissed the locket again and Arnold made a move to stand up quickly. He knew from experience that Helga was about to tuck her locket back into her shirt then return to the party like nothing had ever happened. But Arnold stood up too quickly and sliding on some loose pebbles, he fell down right in front of Helga. From upside down, the boy could see Helga's long legs all the way up to her waist.
"Oh my goddess!" Arnold blurted out, flushing beet red. Without stopping for an apology, he ran for it.
"Here!" Arnold said finding Sid and Gerald on the edge of a small swimming pier. He shoved the borrowed camera back into Sid's hands. "I'll pay you the twenty bucks," Arnold pouted in defeat. Gerald was holding his ribs with both hands, laughing.
"Ah, man! You got a nosebleed over Helga Pataki of all people? I just can't believe it! Bwahahaha!"
"Gerald?" said Arnold with low warning. "Shut up." But Gerald continued laughing, holding his hands around his middle. Arnold's eyes lowered to his crossest and meanest. As Gerald continued to laugh, he shot out one hand and shoved Gerald off the edge of the swimming pier. Gerald was even more surprised than ever to find himself in the ocean. It just wasn't like Arnold to be so aggressive. But the scowl that Arnold wore was only natural. It's a certain thing! You don't mess with a boy in love. The end.