Chapter 2: It Can't Be True
"Have you already finished the assignment Helga?" Phoebe couldn't help but ask, as she saw her best friend staring off into space.
"Huh? Oh, sorry Pheebs. I just can't focus on that now." Helga sighed, leaning back against the bed.
"You seem rather perturbed. Is there something on your mind?" Phoebe couldn't help but ask.
"It's nothing." Helga sighed as she reached into her bag for her homework assignment. When she pulled it out, she couldn't help noticing something was missing.
"Crimity! Where is it?!"
"Where's what Helga?
"Phoebe! Did you see a pink book somewhere?" Helga asked desperately.
"I'm certain I haven't seen one." Phoebe replied, wondering what could be the problem. "What was it for?"
"It's uhh...uhhh…" Helga began to rub her neck, not wanting to reveal the information.
"Oh my! Did you leave it somewhere?" Phoebe asked, realizing what it must be for.
"If I knew that, I wouldn't be searching all over the floor for it! Sheesh!" Helga scowled.
Phoebe knew not to take offense towards Helga's hostility when it came to matters such as these. She was one of the few people who knew about Helga's personal feelings for Arnold.
"I suppose the best thing to do would be to retrace our steps." Phoebe suggested, while being instantly dragged out of the house by her best friend.
Meanwhile, Arnold was laying on his bed reading the new book of poems he had found. He was tempted to call Gerald, just to have someone to talk to about it.
Maybe the same girl who wrote the last book wrote this one. I never did figure out who it was?
After making it half way through the book, he decided to go downstairs and find his grandpa. There he saw Phil sitting in the living room, still reading the paper.
"Grandpa?"
"Hey there shortman."
"Grandpa, I found this book of poems about me at school, but I don't know who wrote it."
"Oohh! Poems, let me see!" Phil exclaimed, snatching the book.
Arnold sat there, watching Phil laugh at the sweet words written about his grandson.
"She seems like quite a keeper there shortman!" Phil winked, bumping Arnold on the shoulder.
"I don't know who wrote them though? How am I supposed to figure that out?"
"Hmm...you tried asking all the girls in your class? Better yet, bring the book with you to class!"
"Uhhh I don't know. I found another book like it last year and did that. No one said anything though." he replied, thinking back to the day.
"Another book? You can really reel 'em in can't ya shortman! Hehe!"
"I'm wondering if the same girl wrote this one. I wish she'd just say something." he sighed.
"You think it might be your little cranky friend with the pink boy and the one eyebrow?"
"Helga? Are you kidding?!"
"Come on Arnold! I told you all those stories about what your grandma did to me. Has any other girl ever paid you that much attention before?" Phil pointed out, while Arnold sat and thought to himself a moment. Practically all the attention Helga gave Arnold was negative, but it was more attention than any girl had ever given him before.
"Thanks grandpa." Arnold sighed, as he headed outside to sit outside.
"Anytime shortman!"
Meanwhile, Helga and Phoebe were standing outside the doors of P.S. 118.
"Crimity! It can't be locked! How am I supposed to get the stupid thing back now?" Helga panicked.
"Don't worry Helga. It may not be in there." Phoebe said, hoping to calm her friend down.
"That doesn't mean it's not lying on the ground somewhere, where any lunatic could pick it up and read it if they wanted. Sheesh!" Helga scowled with her hands on her waists.
"Well, did you sign your name at the end of this one?"
"No, I…." Helga began to sigh until going through all the information that book contained in her mind.
There was one poem that mentioned her full name.
"OH MY...AHHHH!" Helga fell on the ground with her head in her hands as Phoebe patted her on the back.
After a moment of sulking, Helga managed to get up. Phoebe examined the depressed look on her friend's face and asked "Would you care to go to Slausens for a milkshake? Perhaps do something to take your mind off this stressful event."
"I guess." Helga sighed, slowly dragging her feet in that direction.
While they were headed in that direction, Arnold was sitting on his front porch reading the book of poems when he heard…
"Hey Arnold! What's up man?"
"Hey Gerald. You finish the laundry?"
"Yeah. What's that you're reading?" Gerald asked, while pointing to the book in Arnold's hands.
"Well, after you left I found another book of poems someone wrote about me at school." Arnold said hesitantly, wondering what his friend's reaction would be.
"Another one?! Man, what kind of ladies man are you?"
Setting the book aside, Arnold sighed "I wish she'd just say something. We could end up liking each other."
"Let me see that." Gerald took the book as he flipped to the last page. Raising an eyebrow, he asked "You sure about that?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Gerald handed over the book, crossing his arms as he watched his best friend read…
Arnold my love
My sultry preteen
Why must I hold you only whilst I dream?
Will I be forever enslaved by your spell?
Why must I worship you and never ever tell?
Arnold you make my girlhood tremble
My senses all go wacky.
Someday, I'll tell the world my love,
Or my name's not Helga G. Pataki!
Arnold's eyes widened as far as they could, while Gerald laughed hysterically. "Oh man Arnold! All this time, Pataki? Mm, mm, mmm!"
"There's no way! There's got to be some sort of mistake!" Arnold insisted, planting his face in his hands.
"I don't think someone would make the mistake of replacing their name with another person's… especially not that girl's!" Gerald insisted, placing his hands on his hips.
"But, she hates me!" Arnold exclaimed, waving the book in the air.
"Apparently not."
"I need to go inside and think about this." Arnold sighed, as he headed towards his room.
"See ya buddy!"