From Preschool to junior high, getting girls to notice him was not Arnold's forte. After his tragic and sudden break up with Lila in fourth grade, he had been dubbed 'The Friend'. Doomed to a future of hormonal rants and hugs, hugs that never meant what he always longed for. Though, from time to time he harbored short-lived crushes on girls, he had never like-liked a girl. Not truly. And he knew that no girl had ever like-liked him. Well, all except one.

Helga Geraldine Pataki was indeed a very strange girl. Instead of doting compliments and loving gestures, she insulted him day in and day out, throwing spitballs and rigging his locker to dump yesterdays coleslaw on his jumper. So from time to time, Arnold completely forgot that she liked him. He could barely fathom her like-liking him. It was a silent agreement that they'd continue they're dysfunctional yet comfortable relationship in which she would abuse him and he would ignore her. Two years passed by before Helga calmed down, the occasional 'football head' being tossed into conversation. She had grown up, and so had he. Heck, Arnold thought one day as he stood beside her in the lunch line, they could even be friends. As soon as the thought left his lips, he regretted it, feuding following. Two more years had passed and in that time Arnold had grown patient with the wild-fire. Something about her interested him. She was smart and witty, she was creative and strong. It was the second week of school that he realized what had happened.

"I like-like Helga G. Pataki."

"Say what?" Gerald asked, dropping a textbook on the floor. It was quite a surprise to hear the words come out of Arnold's mouth. "Are we talking about the same Helga? Look, she just lent me a pencil, she's not Mother Theresa or anything!"

Arnold shook his head to clear his thoughts, wondering if it was too soon to be so sure. But the way he felt, butterflies in his stomach, sweaty palms, aloof, these were the signs of a man in like were they not? That, or indigestion from the mysterious green pudding he had eaten at lunch. Gerald grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. "Arnold? Arnold! Snap out of it!"

"Gerald, I've never felt this way before. I'm absolutely positive that I like-like H-" A locker door struck Arnold from behind, sending him flying to the floor. A familiar laugh was heard moving past him. Once that laugh would have annoyed him, but now it seemed melodic. "Watch it, Football Head, your head is causing traffic in the halls," Helga screamed. This definitly wasn't the time to express his new found feelings to her. Perhaps another day.

Now that Arnold was absolutely sure of his feelings for his once foe, he began to grow nervous. What was next? This was not familiar to him at all. Four years had flown by since the evening Helga had confessed to him. Four years was a very long time, especially for someone so young. It was practically decades to a fourteen year old. Would she still feel the same way? She did spend a lot more time tormenting Billy, afterall. As days passed, Arnold felt more and more hopeless. It was quite obvious she didn't like-like him anymore. When was the last time she threw him in a trash can or stole his shoes during gym? Those times were long gone.