The Continuation

Helga pushed Arnold and Gerald aside, taking the last tapioca pudding and smirking mischievously at their annoyed expressions. "Whoops, were you two standing there? I must have missed you. Although that's surprising, considering the slightly freakish shape of your head, Football Head, and the mass of hair that's taller than Mr. Simmons, Geraldo."

Before Arnold could stop himself, he folded his arms and exclaimed in a frustrated voice, "Very funny, Helga. Can I speak with you in the hallway, please?"

The pig-tailed girl blinked in surprise at this out-of-character retort. She glanced at Gerald in confusion, (despite their mutual hatred, she figured he could at least provide her with some answers), but he was too busy glaring at her to respond to her inquiring gaze. Finally, Helga just shook her head, and turned back to Arnold, a scowl firmly in place. "What makes you think I'd do anything for you, Football Head?" What the heck is he going on about? Meet him in the hallway? For what exactly? Isn't he terrified that's I'd punch his face in? She huffed in her brain.

"Oh, I don't think you'll follow me, I know you'll follow me," Arnold said, quite boldly for a person staring down one of the biggest bully in the entire school. He picked up his tray, nodded to Gerald, and began to walk in the opposite direction, away from Helga.

Helga smirked, the joy of their bickering game pooling warmly in her stomach, (although Arnold was much, much more offensive), and she turned away from him with her tray in hand. "In your dreams, Arnoldo."

"Oh, I don't think so, Helga. If you're looking for me, I'll be in the hallway, waiting for you to show up," Arnold called over his shoulder, sounding extremely fed up and frustrated. It had been a while since Helga had managed to get him that worked up. She felt slightly proud of herself, but also a little worried. The last time he'd been so abrasive towards her was when they were paired to watch over that egg, and Arnold, her sweet, sweet Arnold, was actually rude and mean to her. He actually insulted her. Sure, he probably didn't mean to offend her, (although that's precisely what he did), but Helga had figured that the words left him before he even realized it. Heck, she could relate to that. But he had really hurt her feelings that day, as much as she tried to play it off, and, in that cafeteria, on that particular day, she wasn't sure if she could really sit through that again.

But still, the scheming and mischievous part of her mind reasoned with a smirk, alone time with Arnold. And I managed the egg project just fine; I can manage this, too! And who knows what Head Boy actually wants this time! I don't think he'd actually invite me into the hallway just so he could insult me. Even though he's angry, he's still Arnold; I don't think he's capable of that. Great. It's settled!

Before he turned the corner, she called to him, "Fine. If it means that much to you, I'll grace you with my presence. As long as it's enough to stop your stupid Football Head from whining for the rest of the day."

"I promise, it is," Arnold replied harshly. He didn't even smile. He'd won an argument with Helga; it was a first, and he should've been proud, but he was extremely frustrated. Ever since the incident in the janitor's closet, everything Helga did seemed to annoy him. She slammed her locker a bit too loud for his liking? He was immediately frustrated. She cackled at him for making a minor mistake at the chalk board? He was immediately frustrated. She glared at somebody else, someone that wasn't even him? He was immediately frustrated, despite the fact that she wasn't even directing her constant rage towards him. So you can imagine how angry her throwing spitballs, or tripping him in the hallway, or cutting in line made him.

Arnold set his tray down on the table next to Gerald, but abruptly turned away, walking toward the door to the hallway. His hands were balled into fists at his side, gripping so tight that his fingernails were digging into his skin. His eyebrows were set, and he was already planning to do... something. What that something was, he wasn't entirely sure, but whatever it was... it would come to him. And he knew Helga wouldn't be ready for it. Gerald had called out to him, asking where he was going, and what had gotten into him, and what the heck just happened between him and Helga the Horrible, but Arnold just ignored him, so dead set on what he was about to do that he didn't care about anything else around him.

Arnold pushed the door open roughly, (letting out as much anger on the inanimate object as he could), causing it to bang against the wall loudly. He glanced down the hallway, noticing that Helga was already there, her arms crossed over of her chest and a scowl on her face. She was leaning against a locker, her feet crossed in front of her, and Arnold could see her anger. It was radiating off of her in waves, but his anger was just as strong, so he wasn't fazed. Not much Helga threw at him fazed him anymore. She just... didn't seem as intimidating as she used to.

Helga looked up at the sound of the door. She saw Arnold standing stock still in the middle of the hallway, and he was glaring at her, but she just glared right back, despite her uneasiness in the face of his anger. He looks... actually angry. Helga tried to keep her gaze neutral, but she was having difficulty forcing the fear from her eyes. Oh, no... Oh, no... what if he brings up the closet... or FTi... or what if he just tells me to leave him alone once and for all and then that would be it... My love would forever remain unrequited, and I'd live out the rest of my life alone, because I could never replace Arnold! She hushed her overactive mind, propelled off of the locker she had been leaning against, and put her hands on her hips. "Well, Football Head? I'm here. You're welcome. Now, what's so important that you had to interrupt -"

But Arnold didn't let Helga finish. He glanced up and down the halls briefly to make sure nobody was around, before taking a few long strides towards her and pinning her against a locker, both of his hands gripping her thin shoulders tightly. He leaned close to her face so that their noses were close to touching and his glare intensified, so that his green eyes burned hotly into her widened blue ones.

Helga gulped. Wh-what is he doing? Oh, God, please, if he's going to kiss me... let it happen, but also don't let it happen, because we're really out in the open... Let's go to a janitor's closet! Yeah, that'll work! But that's only if he... She shook her head slightly to try to clear it, causing their noses to brush against each other; she tried to look away from his emerald eyes, but even the slightest glance was enough to push her into a further state of monologue. Oh, he's so close to me... Oh, his emerald eyes, they burn so passionately... That's probably because he's angry, but still! It's powerful enough to get him to pull me this close, so I'm not complaining!

Arnold was oddly affected by her having nuzzled their noses together, whether she intended to or not, and he disrupted Helga's thoughts when he pushed forward a little more so that their noses were pressed up against each other. His eyes were so close to Helga's surprised and slightly terrified eyes, he could probably count the flecks of pale blue in the sea of sweet cobalt, but he couldn't concentrate properly. She's just so... Why does she have to bug me so much? Why has she gotten so much more irritating lately? Oh, I could just... just... Arnold more-or-less consciously tightened his grip on the stunned girl in his arms and he said in a low voice, that sounded so very unlike his normal tone, "What I'm about to do is going to be completely out of anger."

Before Helga could respond, or even think properly, Arnold had pushed forward all the way, their lips colliding together almost painfully. Helga's back was pressed flush against the locker behind her, the cold metal hitting the flushed skin of the back of her neck. He moved his lips rapidly, desperately, passionately against hers, his hands gripping her shoulders so tight that Helga almost winced in pain. Good pain, she ultimately decided. She didn't have it in her to move either of her arms, or press Arnold's body as close to her as was physically possible, or even kiss him back; she was too shocked to respond. Even if she could gather the courage and recover, she actually couldn't: Arnold's grip on her was too tight to allow much movement.

Wh-why... what... is he... how in the... where did he... Helga's thoughts weren't exactly forming fully, to say the least, but there was one thought that rang clearly in her mind: WHAT'S HAPPENING?!

Arnold's kiss lasted a few seconds longer, before he drew back, his eyes flickering open and his grip loosening considerably. He looked into her wide, blue eyes with... relief? confusion? shock? satisfaction? His eyes seemed to radiate the emotion, whatever it was. Steadily, however, his initial response to his own actions disintegrated, leaving only shame and apologies behind. As if he'd been slapped in the face, his eyes suddenly flew wide open, and he took a large step away from her, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. He averted his eyes, instead staring fixedly at his shoes, and rubbed the back of his neck. It took a moment, but he finally coaxed his vocal chords into working. "U-uh... yeah..."

Helga didn't have the willpower, nor the faculties, to respond.

"So, uh... oh, no..." Arnold suddenly looked back up at her, regret deep in his eyes. He took a small step forward, but was careful to keep a safe and comfortable distance between them. "I'm so sorry, Helga, I shouldn't have just... grabbed you like that, and I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that, it was..."

Finally, Helga's mouth began to work again and she said shakily, "The heat of the moment?"

Arnold gave her a small, grateful smile. "Yeah, the heat of the moment. I just... wasn't thinking."

"Because I... cut in line, and insulted you and Gerald and you were... angry?" Helga asked. She was giving him a way out, although every fiber of her deep, almost painful, love demanded she do the opposite. The two sides of her were both so stubborn that the inner argument was brutal and passionate:

You have him right where you want him! Go for the kill! Confront him!

But Arnold can't possibly... like me like me, let alone love me, and I can't deal with that kind of rejection; I mean, he just rejected me right now... sort of...

Oh, come on, Helga, the boy of your dreams just kissed you and it was boss! Now's your chance! Reel him in!

But he doesn't love me -

How do you know? That kiss was pretty heated...

But he just said he didn't mean it; he said it was an accident!

So? Make him mean it...

But he doesn't love me, don't you get it?! I don't want to hear the words, 'I'm sorry, Helga, but I don't love you; that kiss was a mistake, as were all of our other kisses...' He gave me an out on the FTi rooftop and in the janitor's closet a couple weeks ago, and that was a dream come true; I owe him this. I owe him a chance to take it all back.

Arnold's voice shook her out of her thoughts. "Yeah, I was pretty angry. That's why I just did... that."

There was an awkward silence that neither child knew how to fill. They could hear the ticking of the clock at the end of the hall, and the mindless chatter of the cafeteria rang loud, clear, and obnoxious.

"Wow, would you look at the time!" Helga suddenly exclaimed, looking at her wrist. She groaned in her head. Stupid, stupid, you don't even wear a watch... Oh, well, might as well roll with it; it's not like today hasn't been full of awkward, uncomfortable situations already... "Lunch is almost over!"

"Yeah, we should get back to the... uh..."

"...Cafeteria?"

"Right, yeah, the cafeteria. I bet Gerald's worried about me, and I know Phoebe's probably all confused."

"Right."

"Yeah."

The two children turned away from each other, both blushing considerably, and tried to walk through the doors to the cafeteria at the same time.

Arnold blinked and turned to Helga, who in turn turned to look at him. He offered her a kind smile. Good, good, keep it casual... just pretend that that kiss didn't just happen... She'll pretend, and you'll pretend, and then it'll be like it never even happened in the first place... "Oh, go ahead, Helga."

Helga shook her head in a rare moment of politeness. "No, that's alright, Football Head, I'll just follow behind you."

Arnold smiled a bit wider at how nice she suddenly sounded and gestured for her to move forward. "Ladies first."

The pig-tailed girl felt a smile tug at her lips. What a chivalrous little Football Head... She inwardly swooned, but then a mischievous smile crossed her face. Well, if we're supposed to be back to normal now... you know, bully and bullied... Helga's smirk widened. "Yeah, I know. That's why you should go first, Football Head."

Arnold huffed, but it looked like there was a hint of a smile on his lips nevertheless. "Whatever you say, Helga." He pushed the door open, and held it out for her, (completely ignoring her demand that he not do that), and hurried away to Gerald's table. When Arnold sat down, taking a few calming breaths before he began to eat, Gerald looked up from his tray, a concerned look in his eyes.

"Man, what happened to you?"

Arnold raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Did you and Helga get in a fight? You look like you just ran all the way to Gerald's Field."

The observation just deepened the blush on Arnold's face. He cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing at Helga out of the corner of his eye. She was sitting with Phoebe, a frown on her face as she stared fixedly the tapioca pudding that should've been on his own tray... Phoebe was smiling wide, resting her head on one of her palms, and she was saying something that apparently wasn't sitting right with Helga, because she glanced up at Phoebe, her frown deepening. She then quickly turned around in her chair to look at him, her face expressionless. When they made eye contact, they both blushed and turned away again.

"Uh... no, we didn't get into a fight."

"Well, then, what happened?" Gerald asked.

Arnold sat back in his chair and thought very quickly. Helga and I should've planned an excuse... why didn't we plan an excuse? I'm terrible at thinking on the spot when it comes to things like this! I bet Helga is way better than I am! Okay, what could make both Helga and I both blush at the same time? I don't usually blush, and Helga never blushes, so pretty much nothing besides what just happened could make us blush... I don't really want Gerald to know, and besides, the last time Helga and I kissed, Helga threatened me not to tell anyone, even Gerald, or she'd pound me! She's pretty unpredictable; I'm sure she would if I betrayed her trust like that... Maybe we were blushing because we saw... Principal Wartz's underwear! Yeah, that'll work! Arnold frowned. Wait, no, that would just gross us out, not make us blush. Maybe I could just... Arnold smiled up at Gerald, but it felt forced and insincere. He tried to assure Gerald that everything was okay by saying, "Don't worry, Gerald, I took care of her - it. It. The problem. I took care of it." He forced a few chuckles to cover up the awkward slip of the tongue. He regretted his approach pretty much as soon as the words left his mouth, because the implications were numerous and embarrassing.

"Okay," Gerald said slowly. "Do you think you could maybe... elaborate on that a little bit?"

Arnold swallowed and shook his head. "Uh... no, I'm good."

Gerald raised a suspicious eyebrow, but just shook his head and returned to his lunch. "Alright, man, fine. Don't tell me. Just let me know if she hurts you so I can sick Big Patty on her, or ask Fuzzy Slippers to get some dirt on her or something." A thought occurred to him and he looked back up at Arnold. "She didn't hurt you, did she?"

Arnold shook his head and said quickly, "No, no, she didn't."

"Are you sure?"

The young boy frowned. "Yes, Gerald, I'm sure. If she hurt me, I'd tell you."

Gerald studied Arnold's face for a moment before shrugging. "Alright. I believe you."

Arnold let out a sigh of relief. "Good."

Arnold returned his eyes to his lunch tray, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He finally understood why Helga was so adamant about losing control of her actions whenever she suddenly grabbed him and kissed him: he didn't know where that kiss of his own had come from. It was as if his frustration just built up and built up until he just couldn't take it anymore, but why did he... kiss her? There were so many other things he could've done: scolded her, spoken sternly to her, he even could have just... yelled at her a little bit? But no, he just had to go and kiss her... In his spare time, he never really found himself thinking about kissing Helga... much... And whenever he did, it was almost always usually about what to do if Helga ever kissed him again; how to respond, how to defend himself, how to push her away without hurting her feelings. He'd never even considered the fact that he himself might push her up against the nearest flat surface and just... plant a big one, right on her unsuspecting lips...

Still, Arnold thought with a small smile, I don't really regret it. I know I probably should, but I just don't. Her lips are just... soft, and they pucker slightly when she's surprised... Well, I've only ever felt that happen once, but I wonder if that happens all the time...

Someone tapped Arnold on the shoulder and he jumped, (he was jostled from his complicated and warm and slightly uneasy thoughts, and he was still feeling a little bit on edge because of earlier), and he twisted in his hard, plastic cafeteria chair to see Helga, her eyes averted and her cheeks tinted a light pink. She rocked back on her heels once, summoning up the courage before she thrust her cup of tapioca pudding into Arnold's hands.

"Peace offering," she said simply.

Arnold glanced at the cup of pudding in his hands, and then looked back up at her. He smiled. "Thanks, Helga."

The young girl turned away. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get used to it, Football Head."

As she walked away, feeling awkward and embarrassed, Arnold couldn't help the smile widen across his face. She's the most confusing person I've ever met... Arnold turned back to his lunch, setting the cup of pudding on his tray, shaking his head in amusement. However, when his best friend cleared his throat, Arnold glanced up, his happiness melting away at the raised eyebrow sent in his direction, and Arnold inwardly grimaced at the fact that he had no way to explain what just happened without seriously embarrassing himself.

"Arnold, man," Gerald said, "What was that all about?"

"U-uh..." Arnold pulled at his collar and looked away, as if trying to find a good answer that wasn't too far from the truth, but also wasn't really the truth, either. "Helga and I... actually, no, just Helga... she, uh... I guess she wanted to apologize... for earlier, I mean..." He cleared his throat. "Guess she did, and I accepted it?" Oh, nice job, real convincing, Arnold thought. He hardly had time to realize that that thought was spoken in Helga's voice, when Gerald responded.

"Yeah, I guess." He was disbelieving, but that was no surprise. Arnold was no good at lying, or keeping secrets of his own. Sure, he could keep other people's secrets; they weren't his to tell and his morals definitely got in the way of his desire to tell the truth. (If that made any sense.) But when it came to his own secrets... he was absolutely horrendous about keeping his lips shut and inconspicuous.

"Or not," Gerald added, folding his arms over his chest. "You sure you're alright, Arnold? You're acting mighty strange, you know."

Arnold blushed and looked down at his lunch. "Yeah, I'm fine, Gerald. Don't worry about me."

Gerald raised an eyebrow again, but shrugged. "Whatever, man. But my statement from before still stands: I'm here for you, buddy. For all your Helga troubles."

Arnold smiled at Gerald's attempt at helping and he nodded, but on the inside he was thinking, in a very, very loud, very, very Helga-ish voice, Yeah, right. I'd like to see you help me with this without admitting yourself to an insane asylum.