Whiskers
Chapter 02
To say that Helga was just grumpy was like saying that the Titanic or Noah's Ark was just a boat.
The first night she had set her cell phone to get her up every two and a half hours in order to feed the kittens. Not wanting to wake up anyone else, the girl had even taken it upon herself to venture to the kitchen, prepare the bottle, and then climb back up the stairs.
By the second night, she was a bit slower and worn down. Having had to work after school, she left Arnold alone with feeding and cleaning. She arrived at the Sunset Arms ready to crash from the exhaustion brought on by the frantic and harried customers of the Christmas season. When she clambered up to Arnold's room, she was struck speechless.
Arnold and the kittens were covered in white, sticky formula. His helpless, apologetic face didn't stop the groan from erupting from her throat. He explained the nipple had popped out, and doused the four of them. While he attempted to clean the kittens up, they mistakenly considered their milk smelling siblings as mother and began to suck on each other's ears, paws, etc.
Huffing, Helga dropped her backpack and purse on to the twin bed and ordered Arnold to make a new bottle as she dropped down, cross-legged near the messy group. Without any hesitation or fight, the male quickly climbed to his feet and shot out the door.
Picking up the fat orange kitten, Helga tsked at the baby before popping open the baby wipes, grabbing a wipe and proceeded to clean off the white formula. After every kitten was passably cleaned and fed, the exhausted blonde set her alarm, made herself comfortable on the floor and dropped into a deep sleep.
By night three, Arnold had to use their hand held radios to make sure she was getting up. She had more than a few colorful words to share with him the first time he had done it, but afterwards, found that if she just did what was expected, she was able to return to bed much faster.
Though the kittens seemed grateful, the rest of humanity had to pay. Helga wasn't a morning person and Arnold had to drag her from the breakfast table that morning in order to make it to school on time. She napped on the bus, her head slowly falling forward only to jerk back up whenever they the bus ran over a pothole.
"Man, have I mentioned how sorry I am?" Gerald whispered as his girlfriend grabbed Helga's hand and quietly led her through the hallway. Phoebe, being well aware of Helga's brusque attitude, was able to take over directing the girl to her first hour.
"Yeah, you have," Arnold answered. He dug through his locker, attempting to balance his French textbook and binder in the crook of his injured arm while searching for his advanced physics homework. "But I feel sorry for Helga; she's the one who has it worse."
Gerald rolled his eyes and snorted.
"How can you tell? She's just as mean and rude as always."
Arnold grunted as he yanked on the recovered sheet, putting the top between his lips, and then slammed his locker door shut. Once his juggling act was under control, he shoved the homework into his binder and shrugged.
"She has good reason; she's been running herself down. She goes to school, works, and then comes back and wakes up at all hours to take care of the kittens."
"Man, do you realize how much you sound like a married man right now?" Gerald questioned, his eyebrows lifting. "Normally this would be weird enough to ignore, but with Helga G. Pataki at your house Rhonda is nearly wetting herself to see what'll happen between you and Candace."
This time Arnold rolled his eyes and shook his head as they walked to their first hour class, senior English. As they took their places at their desks, Arnold ran his good hand over his face and sighed. Candace, how could he even explain anything about or to Candace.
They had been dating, off and on, since sophomore year. She would often call it off; go chasing some other athlete only to call him a few weeks later in tears. Though he liked her, there wasn't much past just liking her. Being her boyfriend was more habit than affection. Gerald had called him a doormat, among other, less flattering words, after the second time the two had broken up.
When they were together, as they were supposed to be currently, Candace had a nasty jealous streak and often threw childish temper tantrums that left Arnolds ears ringing. It was okay for her to flirt with every member of the football team, but should he give a smile to one of his childhood friends—it just wasn't pretty.
How he was going to manage to appease his girlfriend with Helga, another female, not only living under the same roof but sleeping in his bed, he didn't know. Lying wasn't palatable to him and, even if it had been, he had no talent for it.
With shoulders sagging, Arnold fished out a pencil and redirected his thoughts to what the English teacher started to lecture on.
By lunch, Helga was operating under the influence of several sugar packed products. Though Phoebe was always quick to remind her that such eating habits were not healthy, it didn't stop the blonde. The day was cold, but bright. The girls were bundled up in thick coats and decided to enjoy the sunshine in the courtyard.
The only thing that seemed to make Helga perk up was when her friend inquired about her new pets. Smirking, the girl pulled out her phone and pulled up several pictures of the kittens. Something akin to pride was sparked deep within Helga's blue eyes and Phoebe smiled.
It was those rare flickers of true smiles and the brightening of her eyes that made Phoebe defend her friendship to Helga over the years. Ever since Gerald and she started dating, he had badgered as to why someone as sweet and smart as she could stand to be around the negative, bossy brat. Though she could never make him see, she could tell him all of Helga's good points—most of which he didn't believe.
When the lunch bell rang, alerting the students that it was now time for fifth period, Phoebe tilted her head to one side slightly.
"I meant to ask you, are you going to be able to attend my Christmas party this year?"
Helga let out a long suffering sigh.
"Sorry, Pheebs, but Bob made it clear that I, along with every other supervisor, have to be there for the oh-so-important midnight blitz at the store."
The Asian girl winced and gave a sympathetic smile. Phoebe thought that Mr. Pataki was always a bit unsteady but keeping his store open until one minute to midnight on Christmas Eve proved he was far worse. He had ordered Helga to make the announcement, set up the ads, and basically handle everything herself why he was basking in the glory of the sun on some beach with his wife and older daughter.
Though her best friend never complained, Phoebe had often worried about Helga. She was sarcasm and sass on the outside but underneath, laid the sweetness and sympathy within a soft heart. And finally Arnold would be able to see the tall girl as she was meant to be seen! No outside influences to play to and there wasn't the energy, currently, to keep the carefully sculpted mask of aloofness on every day and night for the next six weeks.
However, if Short hurt Helga, Phoebe was more than ready to reintroduce him to the world of martial arts. He might have been good, but she sported a black belt and several trophies over the years that stated she was better.
Helga noticed the brief, twisted smile on her petite friend's face and flinched away. She'd seen that look only once when they were mugged—well, when they almost mugged. Helga was sure the man's nose would ever be straight again and his partner doubtlessly was still singing soprano from the powerful kick Phoebe had landed before the girls ran away.
"Hey, beautiful!" Came a deep, familiar voice. Phoebe squeaked in pleasure as two arms wrapped around her shoulders and hauled her back against her boyfriend's chest. Helga rolled her eyes as Gerald leaned down to her friend's ear and whispered something that made the girl giggle nervously.
Not wishing to spend the rest of the day in the nurse's office to being nauseated, Helga punched the boy in the arm lightly.
"Where's your sports equipment?" The blonde crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow. She had to resist the urge to tack on one of his many nicknames she created for him over the years due to Phoebe's request their freshman year. Also, the fact Helga was still uncertain what had made Phoebe have the creepy smile earlier.
"Sports equipment?"
"I believe she means Arnold."
Gerald glared at Helga who smirked at him, "Candace nabbed him just before the bell rang. Either they're breaking up, again, or making out. I don't want to know which, but if you want to risk it, they were headed toward the biology lab."
"Later, Pheebs." Helga dismissed herself by spinning around and heading in the direction of the science rooms.
"Come on, Arnold," Candace stuck her lip out further, trying to use the classic 'puppy face' on the male.
Rubbing the back of his neck and looking over her shoulder rather than at her, Arnold felt himself wanting to cave under the pressure. It was in his nature to want to help everyone out.
"Hey, Short, I need to talk to ya," Helga pointed looked at the irked junior and felt an icy grin form on her lips.
Shrugging, the blonde jerked a thumb over her shoulder, "Shouldn't you be getting to class, Price?"
Candace frowned, crossed her arms, and narrowed her eyes.
"We aren't at work; you can't boss me around here."
It was a sad, sad truth that Big Bob Pataki had hired Candace Price in the summer because 'pretty young faces sell more'. The only redemption Helga found in having to deal with the stuck up underclassman was that she was over the girl. As a shift supervisor and one who made the schedules for a handful of the employees, Helga took great pleasure in tormenting the girl.
"Helga's right, Candace. We're all going to be late if we don't leave now."
Switching her glare from Helga to Arnold she stiffly picked up her purse from the teacher's desk Arnold had been leaning on, tipped her nose in the air and walked past Helga into the hallway. The older female watched as the sophomore sashayed into the crowd before turning her eyes back into the room.
Arnold had his head leaned all the way back, staring at the ceiling as if it was going to have the answers to unspoken questions.
"Anyway," Helga huffed out, "I was just comin' to tell you that I have to go to work right after school. Daryl texted me and said something about a water leak and a box of smartphones."
"Okay," Arnold responded absently, still studying the ceiling.
"So I need you to find someone to help you with the kittens," she continued, her ire rising at his apathetic attitude.
"Uh-huh."
That was it.
Stomping into the room, she stopped in front of the boy, grabbed the front of his shoulder, and twisted her fist into the fabric while yanking him forward.
"Wha-!?"
With an icy, hard glare, she forced him to meet her glare.
"Listen here, bucko," she ground out between clenched teeth, "You better get your head out of Candace's arse and back into reality. I can't feed the babies, and neither can you. So you better figure something out before I get back tonight and so help me, if anything has happened to them, there will be a resurrection of ole Betsy and the five avengers. Got. It?"
Blinking in silent alarm, Arnold cleared his throat as he hoarsely whispered, "O-okay, yeah, sure Helga."
One final pointed look and she released him from her grip with a small push.
"Good, now get to class." It took all her will not to storm out of the room, squared shoulder and muttering under her breath. She was used to being ignored by Arnold when Candace was around, and found a great deal of pleasure interrupting their private conversation; however, he had volunteered to put three little lives ahead of his and she was more than happy to remind him of that fact. The bonus was that it ticked Candace off to no end, at that thought, she grinned.
"Yes!" Stella started as she puffed out her cheeks, looking something akin to a furless hamster. When she crossed her arms and leveled her eyes on her son and husband.
Both males swiveled their heads to each other than back to the simmering female. She stood a few inches shorter than each of them but somehow she grew when she wasn't getting her way. Arnold had heard many times that though Stella was the sweetest woman he ever met, she was also incredibly stubborn.
When he was younger, the boy was amazed at his mother's power over his father, but whenever it turned on him, he found himself feeling like a mouse in a trap with an angry cat glaring down at it.
"Honey," Miles started, obviously used to her tactics and temper, "we are men. It's a very well known fact that we," he motioned between Arnold and himself, "don't like to shop."
She changed expression to a blank mask as she spoke, "Who ever said you had to like it? I just need you to carry stuff."
"I'm broken, Mom." Arnold quickly held up his bandaged wrist and pointed at it with his free hand. "So I wouldn't be of any use."
"Traitor," Miles muttered under his breath.
Arnold purposefully didn't look at his dad's accusing stare when he added, "Besides, I have to watch the kittens. Helga won't be back until after four, and I can't leave them alone."
Stella raised a single eyebrow and one side of her mouth. "Of course, sweetie, I wouldn't let you abandon my grandbabies. They are only four and half days old after all."
Arnold said a silent prayer of thanks, turned to his dad, and clapped a hand over one of the man's shoulders.
"Good luck," with that said and before his father could weasel out of spending his Saturday as a shopping buddy for Stella, Arnold took the steps to his bedroom three at a time. Oh, his father would find some sneaky, harmless way of making his son pay but at least Arnold's day was now free of malls and hordes of sale-hungry shoppers.
As he shut the door, leaning heavily on it and exhaling deeply he checked the calendar and grinned. Only fourteen more days until Christmas and then, thankfully, his mother's shopping adventures would discontinue.
Checking the heating pad setting and the sleeping furry balls inside the box, he decided to spend his free time cleaning his cameras. He'd never thought much of photography when he was a kid, but after spending some time roaming jungles, swamps, and other various landscapes with his parents, the blonde had cultivated a passion for it.
Grabbing one of his professional digital cameras and the small plastic container of sensitive cleaning items, he sat cross-legged by the kittens and started to work in earnest on his task.
Helga rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers in an attempt to appease the beast of a headache brought about by stupid customers and bratty co-workers. It didn't help her hair felt heavy in the neat bun she wore it in for work. Like it or not, she had long blonde hair and for some reason a lot of people thought that meant she was either an airhead or looking for a guy. Often she had to bite down a sharp remark and stuff her hands in her khaki pants' pockets to make sure she didn't do something that would get her fired (or arrested).
Saturdays weren't meant for the recently hired. No, that day was meant mature merchandise movers, and not the fresh faced newbie who would otherwise be a consumer casualty after a few hours. It was five before Helga was able to slip out the back of the store and make it to the nearest bus stop. If she tried to go through the front, someone would find her and want something. She was tired, cranky, and wanting to make sure her kittens were okay.
She trusted Arnold to do what was needed to be done, but she just wasn't too sure how fast he could get it accomplished. Even though they were tiny, the kittens each had sharp, pin-like tipped claws that often dug into her thumb as they suckled the bottle. With his injury, it probably would cause him more pain and make things take longer.
The thought of the cats had her bounding off the bus and moving at a steady clip toward Sunset Arms. She was still surprised that they never seemed to have the door locked. Any time, day or night, in the past four days, she never had to knock, just twist the door, and wait for the herd of various animals to sprint out and then step into the foyer.
Shucking off her winter coat, scarf, and earmuffs, she stretched as she slowly climbed the steps. By the time she reached the door to her borrowed room, she had stripped out of the black Big Bob's polo shirt and was smoothing out the thin pink sleeveless shirt she wore underneath. Twisting the door knob and pushing open the door, Helga's eyebrows shot up as her cheeks threatened to turn pink.
"Hey, Helga," Arnold greeted after he took a quick glance over his shoulder before returning to his camera.
She blinked, her blue eyes refusing to absorb what was before her. Arnold, her precious Arnold, was on his elbows and with his behind in the air. He was quietly humming something and ever few heartbeats he would wiggle around with his camera, adjust a setting or gently maneuver the blanket the kittens were sleeping on.
So much for thinking he grew up normal.
"What are you doing, football head?" Helga managed out as she kicked the door shut and dropped her work shirt on the floor next to her bags.
"I thought it might be fun to have pictures of them as they grow. They'll open their eyes and ears sometime next week," he explained as he shifted to the left. "Can you move that lamp a fraction to the left? Yes, no, a little more. Good."
Helga carefully dropped to a sitting position, making sure not to get too close to the set up to ruin it or to be part of the photograph. Ever since her brief stint as a model in their earlier years, she had come an expert at avoiding the camera's eye.
As she reached to smooth down a wrinkle in the blanket, as Arnold requested, the orange one suddenly stirred and began to mew. As he wiggled around, he woke up his siblings who lazily woke up and joined him in the cat chorus for food and attention.
"I didn't touch them!" Helga defended herself as Arnold used his good arm to push himself up and back onto his legs. Upon her statement he gave her the easy smile made her heart melt and the blush she'd been fighting flare to life on her cheeks.
"They recognize your scent, mom." He teased. "Since they can't see or hear, they have to rely on their noses and they know when 'mama cat' is near."
"Oh," Helga couldn't stop the edges of her mouth from tugging into a smile. It felt nice to be special, even if they were just little cats. Scooping them up, she made herself comfortable as she situated the babies on her chest.
Arnold's smile grew in appreciation at the sight. His finger itched to push down on his camera shutter release; to capture the proof Helga G. Pataki was, in fact, human. Instead he excused himself and announced he was going to prepare their bottles.
On Sunday, Stella had locked herself in the set of room Miles and she had claimed as their own to wrap the gifts she'd secured the day before. Arnold's dad had muttered something about recovering from the animalistic frenzy of the mall as he retreated to his office to work on the spring syllabus.
Arnold lazed around, tossing a hacky sack up into the air and catching it with his good hand. Helga had been up and down, only when she had to take care of the kittens and then promptly crashed back into bed.
The various boarders were coming and going, bringing in smiles, shopping bags, and an occasional draft of icy wind. His grandma and grandpa had ventured out into the city to wrap up their Christmas buying. Arnold was just waiting for the call from mall security saying his grandma hijacked the Christmas train or tried to kidnap an elf again.
He smiled at the thought of how surprisingly spry his Grandma was for her age. He contributed to her active lifestyle and hyper imagination (senility was a possibility but imagination always sounded nicer). His grandpa was an equally as healthy shape from always having to chase after his eccentric bride.
Sighing, the blonde boy resigned himself to another hour of mindlessness as he tossed his toy up in the air.
Meanwhile, Helga wasn't as asleep as Arnold had thought. In truth, she had napped on and off throughout the morning but was staring blankly at the skylight, watching the thick grey snow clouds move lazily above her.
Homework was done, work wasn't until tomorrow (and just to insure that it wouldn't creep in to her schedule she had turned off her phone), the kittens were content, full, and sleeping. What was there to do? If she was at her own house, she'd have something to do…right?
Rolling her eyes, she decided to do what she tried so hard not to in the past five days. She was, after all, in the Mecca of Arnoldum and it would be an insult to him not to poke around his room. This was the first time in her life she was in the room by herself for a long period of time—with his knowledge.
Sitting up, she first started to inspect his shelves. Books, some family and friend photos, (none of Candace she noticed with an arched eyebrow) his ancient potato powered alarm clock, and other odds and ends he had collected over the years.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she took a deep breath before rising to her feet. The décor hadn't changed much; everything was still heavily blue or dark green with accents of vibrant red thrown in. He had traded his smaller furniture for more adult sized pieces. His computer desk (sans laptop since he needed something to do since she had invaded) was a heavy looking wooden one with two long drawers. There were a few pens and magazines on top, but other than that, was bare and tidy.
Helga frowned; his entire room seemed personally impersonal. Maybe it was just tidier than she was used to seeing. Cringing at the thought of her own room and the various piles of clothes, crumpled papers, soda cans, shoes, and literature books, she noted that perhaps he was just neater than her.
Checking on the kittens which they had finally decided to name, she was careful not to get too close unless they smell her and all heck break lose again. She smirked as she remembered the fight Arnold and she had had the night before over names.
She chose Gunner for the orange tabby, "Because he was the one who keeps shooting me when I have to make them pee," the blonde girl stated flatly when asked why.
Arnold named the calico, "Noel, since it's close to Christmas."
That left the slender grey. It went from a half hearted play fight to a full blown silent glaring contest over what to name the last kitten. Stella had come up the stairs when all went quiet in fear that one or the other was trying to stuff a body into the closet—or that they were finding better uses for their mouths.
The comment had the two teens blushing a deep shade of red while staring in opposite directions. The woman had laughed and handed them a book on baby names with a wink before declaring that a late supper of pizza would be ready in about an hour.
By the time that the delivery man had come, they finally came to an agreement. The name picked for the last, smallest kitten would be Olivia.
With a jarring shriek of laughter that Helga easily identified as Arnold's grandma, the girl sighed and decided to see what type of chaos this lazy afternoon was going to erupt in.
