"H-Helga! Should we really be up here?!"
"Oh, please, I've been up here plenty of times and nothing's happened to me."
"P-plenty of times?" Phoebe looked surprised but, after a second thought, it didn't really faze her. That's just what kind of person Helga is. They were currently on top of Arnold's roof.
"Oh don't act so surprised." Helga rolled her eyes and turned to face Phoebe. "And, Phoebe, this…" She waved her hand around her surroundings. "Never happened."
"Got it."
"Now, come on." Helga motioned to the big glass ceiling skylight that lead straight into Arnold's room.
"What if he's home? It's already pretty late." Phoebe tiptoed after Helga.
"Arnold usually goes to tall hair boys until curfew on fridays or, sometimes, stays the night. There's no way he would-" Helga stopped and Phoebe bumped into her back, falling on her butt. "Shhh!" Helga turned to her friend, putting a finger to her lips. Phoebe mouthed a sorry.
Helga got on her knees and peeked through a corner of the glass ceiling. "What the heck? He's home?" Helga's hands turned into fists. "Why is he home?"
"Helga!" Phoebe whispered loudly, pointing at something in the room. "Isn't that your…"
…
"Ok, ok. So we know for sure that whoever wrote this book." Gerald held up the pink book with tongs, as to not get anymore fingerprints on it...even though plenty of people touched it already...and they had no idea how to tell whose fingerprints were whose. "Also wrote this poem." Arnold held the poem up gently with cleaning gloves on his hands.
"Right, and we also know that she writes her poems in pink ink. So we just need to look for someone who writes in pink ink." Arnold placed the paper slowly on his desk that was covered in plastic.
"And we know, whoever this is, writes her poems anamous-mily."
"Anonymously." Arnold corrected.
"Right, that." Gerald scratched his head at that. "You think this girl still likes you?"
Arnold looked towards the poem. "it's titled My Oblong Headed Love God, so, maybe."
"Yeah, that's you all right." Gerald snickered. "Whoever this girl is she sure has a colorful vocabulary. Oblong headed love God? Priceless. I can't wait to find out who it is." Arnold frowned.
"Gerald...do you think it's right? I mean, whoever this is...would want to keep it a secret, right? I mean, she even tore her name out of the page and obviously she doesn't want me, or anyone else to know, that she…" Arnold blushed.
"Has the hots for you?"
"Well...for lack of better term, yes." Arnold's blush got deeper. "Whoever she is is obviously sensitive about her feelings and maybe even worried about her poem going missing." Arnold's expression read guilty. This wasn't right. "Gerald?"
"Oh no." Gerard rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. The 'this isn't the right thing to do' voice again.
"This isn't the right thing to do." Arnold echoed Gerald's suspicions.
"Oh come on Arnold! Don't you want to know?"
"Well yeah, but-"
"And, who knows, maybe she's a certain girl with bows and pigtails."
A girl with a bow and pigtails? Arnold's heart picked up slightly. "Helga?"
"Helga!? What? no, no, no. Gross, I'm talking about Lila. Man, get your head out of the gutter." Gerald laughed. "Helga...you crack me up. Like Helga G Pataki would write poetry, none the less about you of all people."
"Right." Arnold blushed, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean...but why would Lila write this? She doesn't like me like me."
"Well you never know. Like you said, whoever it is is probably sensitive and poetic. I'd say you have a fair chance." Gerald patted Arnolds back and, in return, Arnold smiled sheepishly.
"Still...I don't know, maybe I don't...want it to be Lila...at least not anymore."
"What do you mean? You've been ga ga for Lila for months now. What made you suddenly change your mind?"
"I...don't know." Arnold tapped his index finger to his chin, deep in thought. "I guess...I'm tired of trying to chase something that doesn't want to be chased and, honestly, we might have actually...a little too much in common. But, really, I'm not entirely sure of the exact reason." Arnold answered as honest as he could. He remembered the past couple weeks of his feelings towards Lila. His heart didn't pick up, his legs didn't feel like jello, and his mind didn't go blank in her presents. Sure he'd have a goofy smile and he felt nervous but he wasn't sure if that's all it was. No, Lila didn't do anything to make Arnold swoon, no one has, at least not as much as…
Arnold swallowed, pushing the thought away. "Yeah...I'm not sure why."
"Well...you know what, good for you. I was starting to think you would be chasing her forever and, honestly, I don't think I could take being the best man at your 'ever so' charming wedding." Gerald snickered but it only held back his moderate surprise. It was true, though. After the whole Timberly loves Arnold incident, he seemed to completely forget about Lila.
"Funny, Gerald." Arnold looked half annoyed. He sighed. "Still I...don't think I could go through with this. If she doesn't want me to find out then-"
"Well, wait a minute! Maybe she did want you to find out."
"Huh?"
"Maybe she was the one who switched your papers. It would make sense. Maybe she wants you to find out her secret."
"Well...then why would she not just tell me?"
"It adds mystery, man. Chicks dig that stuff. Maybe this is some kind of witty plan she thought up to get you to fall for her. I mean, I'd believe it."
"I don't know Gerald." Arnold sighed. "It all sounds a little far fetch."
"Come on, Arnold. What happened to you being a bold kid? Maybe if you find this girl you'll end up liking her? Maybe instead of hurting her feelings you'd actually be making all of her dreams come true." Gerald clasped his hands together and fluttered his eyelashes.
"Cut it out." Arnold laughed then nodded. "Alright, maybe. I mean, it is kind of strange I was the one to end up with this poem after all."
"Right? Anyways all this research has made me a little hungry. You got any food?"
"Like what?"
"How about some popcorn and I can find us a movie to watch."
"Ok, I'll be right back. Butter or cheese?"
"Both." Gerald smiled, heading for Arnold's shelf wall. Arnold headed down his stairs, a small skip in his step.
…
"See Helga. They don't even know it's yours."
"Yeah, well it's just a matter of time. We got to get that poem!"
Phoebe sighed but continued to watch from above. Her eyes became half lidded at the sight of Gerald. When he stepped on Arnold's bed both her and Helga leaned back a little, hiding from plain sight.
"Let see. Evil twin three? The Siamese triplets? Nah, too cheesy. Blade four, return of the samurai? No, to old." Gerald felt around some of the top shelves for more movies. He fumbled with a shelf above him and pulled on something, it falling on his head hard as he fell on his butt on the bed, cradling his head. "Ow, what the…" Gerald opened his eyes and saw a red shoe. "Huh? Why does Arnold have girl shoes...I don't want to know." Gerald closed his eyes, shaking his head. He stood back up on the bed and grabbed the shoe, reaching to put it back in place. Doing so he happened to feel for a paper like object that must have been under the shoe. It was a postcard from that one girl back during Valentine's day. He looked at it, almost close to uninterested when suddenly his eyes grew wide. He ran towards the poem on Arnold's desk and placed them side to side.
…
"Oh no!" Helga's eyes grew wide at the red shoe and post card. In any other given situation she would be flattered that Arnold kept the shoe and the card but, right now, it proved to be her worst given nightmare.
"What is it?"
"The moment my life ends forever." Helga put her head in her hands and breathed in deep, taking a minute to let it out slowly. "I've seen enough. Let's go home." She looked almost broken and it made Phoebe frown. Helga stood up, holding her hand out for Phoebe to take. Phoebe's brow furrowed.
"No."
"No? What do you mean no?"
"We can't just give up yet! Wait here!" Phoebe took Helga's hand then ran towards the ladder, carefully but quickly getting down.
"Phoebe!?" Helga whispered loudly but her voice just seemed to carry off into the distance. Helga sighed, looking back down into Arnold's room.
…
Arnold walked in, two bowls of popcorn in hand. He had a hard time opening his door, trying to knock with his foot, but Gerald didn't seem to notice. When he finally did manage to open the door he saw his best friend focused entirely on the poem.
"Gerald?" He didn't turn to look at him. "Gerald!"
"Huh?" He turned and he suddenly smiled. "Arnold! Remember that one Cecile girl!"
"Um, yeah. My pen pal."
"No no. The other one! That imposter one." Arnold raised an eyebrow, curious on where he was going with this.
"What about it?"
"Well I was looking at this postcard and-" Arnold spotted the postcard, almost tripping over his feet to run over, set the popcorn down, and snatch it from his friend.
"Gerald, what are you doing with this!" Arnold held it up over his head, almost seeming like he was protecting it from Gerald. Gerald raised an eyebrow then rolled his eyes.
"Have you actually looked at it, Arnold? Like really closely?"
"Huh?" Arnold brought it down to his line of vision, reading the postcard over and over until it suddenly clicked.
"Arnold, try to remember. What did that girl look like? Didn't she have blonde hair?"
"Yeah."
"She wore a lot of pink."
"Y-yeah…" Arnold felt his heart pick up.
"And she is from our school."
"Gerald…" Arnold looked up at Gerald, utterly speechless.
"I can't believe it." Arnold felt like it was hard to breath. "Gloria likes you. I never took her as the poetry writing girl but she does seem to fit the profile." Arnolds face paled. Gloria? No, he wasn't thinking of Gloria at all.
"Gerald I think-" A knock at his door suddenly interrupted in from his thought.
"Arnold, a little friend of yours is here to see you and Gerald. I told her to come up but she said she'd talk to you down stairs." Arnold and Gerald looked confused. Who would be at their door at this hour? Arnold and Gerald ran down the stairs.