Disclaimer: Hey! Arnold. Not mine. Sad day. Can you figure out what I'm doing with my stories? I'll be amazed if you can. Seriously.
HA
The bob and bounce of wild red hair was all that could be seen over the electric piano that was shoved in the corner of the living room. A notebook was propped up next to blank sheet music; the woman who owned that wild mass of hair moved from one sheet, to the next, to the keys, then back to the first in a dizzying circle. Plunking a few notes, she winced, then tried again, pleased with the eccentric key change.
At the top of a set of stairs which led to the rest of the house, a door opened. Heavy footsteps plopped down in an odd one-two, one-two, one-two pattern, alerting the pianist to her arriving company. She didn't bother to turn her head – the mirror hanging precariously over the piano betrayed a very wet blonde girl, pink dress saturated and clinging to her jeans, pink headband threatening suicide. Her soaking grey cons squished and squeaked on the carpet as she sauntered over to a couch, flopping down in exaggeration. Perking her head up at a peculiarly familiar smell, the redhead spun on her bench and caught the gaze of her blonde intruder.
"Is that China Gorge I smell?" she asked, not looking back at the keys she was hitting as she played The Big Boss, loading the high notes with as much China Funk as she could. The blonde nodded while tossing over the brave white box with the bold red writing. The girl at the piano smirked, catching the food and chopsticks with a strange sadistic cackle as she broke open the fake cardboard.
"Gerald really likes Phoebe." She said suddenly, turning to look at the blonde who had now resituated herself so she was hanging upside down off the seat of the couch and stuffing vegetable fried rice into her mouth haphazardly. Instead of choking on the rice a billion Chinese people couldn't be wrong about – like most folks would at hearing such a bold statement – the upside down girl smirked and nodded.
"Which is good, seeing as Phoebs has crushed on Tall Hair Boy since the fourth grade." She informed, keeping in mind that the red head had only joined them after their group had moved on and out of P.S. 118. Smaller fish, bigger pond as it were.
Eating the leftovers of that Combo A, the pianist watched her companion as the pair thought of their poor, lovelorn friends. Did everyone have to have this cold-feet complex that she apparently lacked? With her, there was no should I shouldn't I bipolar thoughts, no "I love you, but let me hide it lest someone find out", no fear of being ridiculed by her choice in men. For her, it was a simple and efficient Hey Iggy, wanna go see a movie after school? Followed by a shrug and Sure Lucy, why not? There were no over the top love confessions. No histories dating back to the age when playing with your imagination was cool, not crazy. No I love you, and yet I hate you, and yet I love you, and yet I hate you.
Although there may have been a heated kiss in the darkness of the movie theatre.
And she may have let him touch her boob. But only once.
Both girls slowly came out of their own personal thoughts together, though not because of one another. Lucy thought to her Chinese buddy, and how she had her own struggles with love and the irritation of its side effects.
"We should really help them get together." She said suddenly, glad to have gotten that wistful look off Helga's face, at least for now. It was obvious that something had happened to her friend, probably connected to another certain blonde classmate, but Lucy would grill her on the subject later.
"Well, weren't you guys planning a concert in a couple of weeks?" You guys being a reference to the band Death to Strangers, which Lucy was gleefully a part of. The red head nodded, already knowing and liking where this idea was going. Slurping up a large strip of pork from her Chow Mein, Lucy chewed thoughtfully before swallowing with a grin.
"And why not invite all the friends, Iggy's as well as mine, out for a good time?"
"It may give Hair Boy the push he needs to make a move."
"And if not, well, I have a few good friends who'll be there that'll kill for even one date with a gorgeous, smart, single girl – you and Phoebe both."
"Nah, I'd rather go stag than with a blind date, but thanks anyway Luc. Besides, you'd be amazed at how quickly things can change." That had caught her friend's attention to be sure, and Lucy watched with peculiar interest as the blonde performed a half-assed summersault off the couch, slowly righting herself on the floor.
"Oh?" Helga knew the tone in that voice, and was dead set against telling it anything.
"So how do we go about this?" she asked, and the wild red hair was willing to let her little blonde change the subject. She'd grill her later on that, too. But first things first, they needed to get Gerald to ask the question their Kent-Asian friend had been waiting for since the fourth grade.
\m/ὸ_ό\m/
A week and a half later found Helga and Lucy in the high school library, the red head guarding the Xerox copier as her blonde cohort slipped a piece of paper into the feeder, and prepared to hit the magic button.
"Helga? Lucy? What are you two doing here?" a soft voice approached from the left, and both rebels turned with wide eyes before they realized it was no teacher, but their little teacher's aide, and the real reason this concert was going to happen. Phoebe stood by one of the bookshelves, the papers she was supposed to copy for Striby clutched to her chest as if to protect her from the world. In a moment of weakness, Lucy smiled kindly at her friend – she would be thanking them soon enough should their cards be played right. Helga caught the redhead's look, and smirk as she began setting up the copier, and prayed there was enough paper in it.
"Oh, you know, just a project Luc and I are working on. If you need to make copies, I would suggest using the one in the office, we'll be here a while. Just don't let Mrs. Blackwell know it's me and Lucy working the copier – you remember last time I didn't work the copier alone . . ." And Phoebe certainly did. An unpleasant explosion that had the whole school shut down for an afternoon, much to Lauren's delight at causing mayhem in an educational prison that wasn't even her own.
"Understood. I guess I'll see you two in English, then." And with that and a small wave, the small young woman was gone, leaving the two cohorts to high five as inconspicuously as possible. Helga smirked, before slipping the sheet of paper into the feeder, and began the magical process.
One by one, a detailed punk power fist was spit out, gripping a crude sketch of a hanging stick figure. Just below was the band's name DEATH TO STRANGERS etched in crooked handwriting; underneath that the date of the concert and vague instructions on how to get there. Only those who knew the band would be able to figure it out, but it was still fun to plaster the copies not only all over the school, but Hillwood as well.
All five hundred and fifty of them.
o..O
Yellow and red mixed together in the hallway as the pair of blue and brown eyes stared curiously at the exchange happening before them. There was Gerald, there was Phoebe, no one else was in the hall, and the air was thick with tension. They could see him scratch the back of his neck nervously, she was bouncing on her heels in anticipation. Straining their ears, they could just about hear him speak, and it seemed like every female leaned forward that much to catch his voice and –
"Hey Helga, Lucy, what're you guys doing?"
Helga groaned in frustration as Lucy slid back against the wall to better bang her head. The blonde whirled on the traitor, glaring daggers and Arnold shrank back at the sudden hostility in her eyes.
"Damn it Football Head!" her tirade was cut off by an excited squeal, and this time two blondes and a redhead spun their heads around the corner in time to see Phoebe jump into Gerald's unprepared arms, tackling him to the ground and kissing him senseless. Lucy cackled while Helga smirked, shaking her head at her best friend's over enthusiasm, and Arnold just looked at the display with partial confusion.
"I guess she said yes." Lucy muttered, then Arnold looked down at Helga and was about to ask what she was talking about when he was suddenly thrust up against one of the lockers, Helga's fists tangled in the collar of his shirt and his feet nearly off the ground.
"If you endanger a recon mission like this again Football Head, I'll be sure to give you the dog instead of the chicken." Her cryptic threat wasn't lost on her captive, or her companion. When he nodded his understanding, Helga slowly let him go, taking Lucy's arm and leading her towards the lunchroom, where Phoebe was no doubt waiting, nearly bursting with happiness and wanting to share the wonderful news.
"So what did you say to him?" Arnold managed to catch before they rounded a corner and were out of earshot.
"I just told him that you guys were having a concert, and that he should go. Then I casually mentioned that Phoebe was a big fan, but didn't have a ride since her Sube's in the shop and I don't have a car yet. We just won't tell Phoebe that." Lucy laughed at just how much she would do for her friend's happiness, even as she continually chants Romance is the work of saps.
"I knew it." She said suddenly, causing Helga to stop, just outside the door to the cafeteria.
"Knew what?"
"You, Helga G. Pataki, are a hopeless romantic. No, don't even try to deny it, I've seen the light and will never let you live this down. So from this day forward I shall forever refer to you as Baby, as a loving and doting pet name." she burst into cackles once again as Helga growled, before chasing her into the feeding ground.
"You do that, and I'll tell Gerald who really shoved him into the girl's locker room!"
HA