Disclaimer: Hey Arnold belongs to Craig Bartlett and company. I do not earn any profits from this story.

Summary: Helga was a cracked shell, long before Arnold came along.


Chapter Three: A Gentleman's Game

Insanity is something that is extremely foolish. It means doing the same crap over and over, even when you know what the ramifications are. An insane person doesn't know when to quit, or maybe he does know, but is too far gone. I was too far gone...

When it came to Kyle, I had premeditated everything. I saw the results of my actions so clearly in my head. If Olga knew, this would shatter her. Bob would scream at me, Miriam would ask me to attend one of her A.A meetings. That was her answer for everything these days. Kyle, I already what he would do. He'd say something stupid like, let's run away together. As if he had that choice to make.

So you see, I knew what was at stake. But here's the thing, and you probably will hate me after you read this.

I didn't give a crap about anyone's feelings, but my own. The only thing I knew back then, was that I was sad, and because of that sadness I became horribly misguided. I was also destructive, obsessed, combative, but most of all heartbroken. I would love to say it was all Arnold S_'s fault, but it runs so deeply then that. I had a cracked shell, long before Arnold came along.


Family dinners at the Grant's were always mundane. That was until the Pataki's showed up. Dr. Kyle Grant tuned out the discourse between his father and Mr. Wickerson the moment a bell sounded at the door. He gripped his silverware, knee jerking underneath the table. His excitement was almost palpable.

Olga squeezed his hand, giving him a soft peck on the cheek. "I'm so glad they came. They're usually not this late."

She probably thought he was nervous about meeting her family again. While he didn't mind Miriam, Bob was unremitting when it came to pitching a sale. The man could spiel for hours.

"I'd expect nothing less from those people," sneered his mother. She never failed to mention to Olga or anyone else in the room that the Pataki's were inferior sub humans.

Mrs. Wickerson and her son Brian nodded reverentially in agreement. The threat of Mr. Grant liquidating one of Mr. Wickerson's companies still hung over their heads.

"Right," said Olga, furtively glancing away.

The Butler dressed in white livery and a black bow tie strolled out from the kitchen when he heard the bell. He opened the door, greeting them in a dreadfully monotone voice.

"Welcome Sir, Madam, and Misses, to the Grant Manor, may I please take you're coats," he said, gesturing them inside the vestibule.

"Sure, thanks! How'ya doin, Willie?" Bob said burly, smacking the man hard in the back.

"It's Wilcox, sir-"

"Hey, why don't you get me a glass of that fancy French wine you served last time?"

"B, you know I can't be around that stuff," Miriam said, wiping at the beads of sweat forming on her brow.

"What, nobody said I couldn't drink!"

"I do believe we have some Cabernet Sauvignon in the wine cooler, Mr. Pataki," said Wilcox dutifully.

"Great, I'll have some of that."

"Not so fast Butler-Boy, my friend and I will have some as well. And get us a bottle too," Helga said, pulling on the man's curtails before he could walk off. Lila looked questioningly at Helga, not having planned on spending the night drinking.

Mr. Wilcox eyed Helga speculatively, and then at her father.

Bob grunted, ignoring the nervous mutterings of his wife. "Sure, why not. But leave the bottle; I won't have the girl embarrassing me."

Helga smiled, nudging her friend. "See, told you he doesn't give a crap about me," she whispered underneath her breath.

Someone out there was obviously toying with him. Kyle couldn't stop gaping at the tall blonde, teetering inside the dining room in her stilettos. She was wearing a sparkly silver dress that was way too short for his liking, and wore her hair out, cascading over the breadth of her shoulders.

The first time he met her was two years ago. His immediate thought was that she was too pale and rawboned. He never met such a bony girl. At the time, her body had yet developed past its gamine beginnings. She sneered a lot, and called him names like Daddy Warbucks. By the end of their first meeting he was outright annoyed by her.

But then one day, he found her sitting on the leather settee of his pent house apartment. Apparently Olga had bombarded her into spending the night, Helga later clarified. After scribbling for hours in her diary, she ate all his food and proceeded to bug him endlessly, criticizing everything from his foppish appearance to his large nose. It had been ninety-five degrees that day, he was hot and stressed from work and the expectations of his family, the sight of her derisive grin had provoked him.

But none of those explanations were enough to make up for what he did later on. After she stalked off, he followed her and cornered her in the library. She hadn't pushed him away, but still, it was wrong and he knew that. It's been nothing but a whirlwind ever since. That was the best word to describe Helga, a whirlwind.

"Kyle, do you mind letting go of me?" Olga raised her arm where Kyle was clutching tightly at her wrist.

"Sorry, hunny. I'm just a bit nervous." Kyle said, releasing her wrist. He tried not to glimpse at Helga smirkingly taking the seat in front of him.

"You shouldn't worry so much. I'm sure our families will get along." Olga intertwined their fingers together, giving him a reassuring smile.

After everyone had taken their seats, more liveried men strolled out the kitchen, carrying silver trays of food in their upraised palms.

The Pataki's and their freckled-faced guest wearily eyed their plates, not used to such foreign delicacies. Eventually, Helga lifted up the wrong fork and began stabbing at her Colcannon. Kyle deftly hid his smile. Wait until Wilcox serves the Haggis. His father's family originated from Scotland, so Kyle basically grew up on the food.

The discourse was very brief, mostly because nobody could speak with Bob chomping voraciously in the background. With everybody staring disbelieving down the table at Bob, Kyle took the modicum of distraction to fully drink in Helga's appearance.

The blonde ignored him mostly, choosing to devour the food in front of her. It seemed she got used to the taste, because of the delighted sigh that fell from her lips with each forkful. Then, in one heated moment, her eyes met his as she slowly pulled the fork out.

Kyle narrowed his eyes warningly, and shot a furtive glance to his wife. Olga was busy immersing herself in a conversation with Mrs. Wickerson, talking about her recent trip to Hounslow, London. Kyle had taken her there on a business trip.

Helga laughed softly, whispering something to her friend. Lila nodded, her eyes flitting towards him for a quick second. Kyle assimilated uneasiness in her expression, like she was afraid of him. He wasn't all that surprised. He never felt safe knowing that another person knew about their relationship, but Helga swore that Lila could keep a secret.

"You might want to take it easy with the wine. What is that, you're third glass?" Kyle said, gesturing toward the glass of wine in Lila's hand. She seized up, ducking her head towards the table-cloth.

Helga abruptly went cold. Kyle blinked, bewildered by her change in demeanor.

"Don't talk to her," said Helga, a cantankerous mien on her face. She then turned to her friend, eyes never leaving his. "Ignore him, Lila, what does he know about being responsible anyway."

"It was just a suggestion, Helga," Kyle said, glowering.

"Well, keep your suggestions, Daddy Warbucks."

By the time the footmen served the fourth course, Helga's mood had shifted considerably. She could be so mercurial sometimes. Having doffed her shoes underneath the table, she ran her stocking clad feet along the length of his leg. She did all this while eating forkfuls of her Strawberry Savarin, coyly gazing at him beneath her dark lashes. Suddenly he wished he hadn't requested that the chef make the french dessert. His heart constricted as he surreptitiously watched her lift a strawberry to her lips, perversely taking her time chewing it.

How was it that nobody else saw this but him? He surveyed the other occupants in the room. Brian, the boy who looked about Helga's age was staring attentively at Lila. Once in a while Lila's eyes would meet his, but she'd quickly avert them, a sour look marring her face.

Eventually, Brian's attention diverted to Helga, who was still perversely eating her strawberries. Helga was oblivious to him, but Kyle saw the way his eyes licentiously took her in. He didn't like it one bit.

Helga arched a brow at Kyle's stiff posture. He pointed discretely to his Rolex watch, and then jerked his head towards the exit.

Shaking her head, Helga upended the flute into her mouth, and licked the vestiges of wine off her lips. She ignored Kyle's disappointed frown, in favor of scavenging the table for more wine. She then looked across the table, where Miriam had discreetly moved the wine bottle as far away from Helga's side as possible. Sigh, of all the days for Miriam to finally start noticing her.

Having finished all her food, she had nowhere else to look but straight ahead into Kyle's pleading, titillating gaze. The alcohol was beginning to distort her sensibilities. What's one more time? She thought, weighing her options.

Through the hazy fog, she began to see some of the appealing aspects of the man in front of her. Despite his foppish demeanor, he was broad-shouldered and held a staggering height. He was a little soft around the middle, but sinewy everywhere else, even his hands looked strong. In some distant ways, he made her think of Arnold ten years from now, although he really didn't look anything like him. Except the blond wayward hair was spot on, as well as those startling, verdurous green eyes. Maybe it was the similarities that brought her to Kyle, or maybe because with Kyle dominating every aspect of her mind, there was no way she could think about Arnold.

Helga barely comprehended Lila saying something about getting a text message, and watched as the girl traipsed passed the threshold and out of sight.

"Where's the bathroom?" Helga said dazedly, her head spinning as she stood up from the table. Kyle stuck out an arm, as if he wanted to catch her.

Mrs. Grant pursed her lips as if she ate something repulsive. "Down the hall to your left…"

Smiling insincerely, Helga crossed the room to the threshold. Before turning the corner, she pinned Kyle with a pointed gaze, letting him know that it was okay to follow.

Midway down the hall, Helga gasped as a strong set of arms enveloped her from behind.

"Is life always just a game to you?" Kyle brushed her hair to the side, and trailed kisses up and down her neck.

"I should ask you the same thing," Helga said, scowling at his slovenly display of affection. Kyle always disregarded any rules she laid out before him, which was to not touch her in any romantic way except for kissing and the other thing...

"Get off me," she said, trying to disentangle herself from his tenacious grip.

"That's not what you want." Kyle said, yanking her around. He cradled her face between his palms, "Nobody forced you to come, but you showed up anyway."

"You think you know everything," Helga said, running her hands up his arms. "But you-"

Kyle swept her up in a kiss, the rest of her words melting in the back of her mind.

Helga felt her back hit the wall. She couldn't breathe, all of her senses narrowed down to the warm body pressed against her.

"I care about you, Helga. So much, you don't even know." Kyle said, pulling away. His eyes bore into hers, as if he were waiting for a response.

Helga frowned up at him, bemused. After a few beats, a giggle tore out her throat, and then she was laughing cathartically. Wiping tears from her eyes, she said, "The only thing you care about is going to bed with me. So are we going to do this or not?"


To: Lila

I'm truly gobsmacked. How is it that you're not taken?

-Jason

Lila swooned, pressing her cell phone to her heart. She was sitting in the den, having spent almost an hour there texting Jason back and forth.

To: Jason

I haven't really been looking. I'm kind of shaky about relationships, my last one was a disaster. He ended up leaving me for another girl.

-Lila

To: Lila

Well, anybody that could give a girl like you up, must be crazy.

-Jason

To: Jason

So I take it that you like my pictures?

-Lila

To: Lila

Like them? I'm enthralled by them. Do you think you could send more?

-Jason

"Lila, there you are. I have looked all over for you."

Lila looked up, her face fell the moment she saw that it was Brian Wickerson, her ex-boyfriend.

Brian was the epitome of a pompous ass. Everything about him exuded arrogance, from his supercilious grin, to the jaunty swing in his step. He was sharp-eyed and pigeon-chested, with sleek brown hair that was as dark as a wenge tree.

Lila wouldn't call him aesthetically handsome, but he was very clean and well put together. His face was flawless. Normally most teens had a blemish or two, but his was clear, and smooth like a baby's bottom. People usually looked oddly at her when she stated these facts. It didn't matter if a boy was handsome and lean. Her grandmother had always told her that cleanliness was next to godliness, and it was important to Lila that boys possessed this specific trait.

"You were looking for me?" Lila snorted, oddly sounding like Helga for a moment. She blinked; maybe the girl was rubbing off on her.

Brian leaned against the door frame, staring appreciatively at the beautiful girl sitting on the chaise lounge. Why did I break up with her again? He thought, racking his brain. "Why is that such a surprise to you? You and I have history together. Surely, it's not a crime to see how my ex is doing?"

"No, it's not a crime, but I assumed you were too busy sleeping with Rhonda," Lila said audaciously, applauding herself for being so bold. It must have been all the wine she consumed. She had been a neurotic mess since the moment she stepped into the Grant's home and found out that Brian and his family had attended the dinner as well. She supposed it made sense, the Wickerson's were a very affluent family.

"Look about that, I never really got the chance to apologize for my behavior back then. It was wrong of me to have cheated on you, especially with someone as shoal as Rhonda." Brian said ambling further inside the room. He took a seat beside her on the chaise lounge; although there was sincerity in his voice, he looked unbridled with lust.

"It was wrong. I'm sorry, but I'm not ready to forgive you," Lila said, shying away from his gaze. Even to this day, Brian's deception still broke her heart. She knew why he cheated, he had wanted more from her then just chaste kisses and holding hands, but she hadn't trusted him enough to ever let it get that far. It was a good thing she waited.

Brian nodded in acceptance, "I don't expect you too."

"Well, if that's all you wanted to say..." Lila said, wondering when he planned on leaving. She wanted to get back to her conversation with Jason.

"Getting rid of me so soon?" Brian said, grinning lecherously. "I wanted to share a drink with you. It's been such a long time since we last talked."

Before Lila could say anything he swiftly left the chaise, to procure for them a bottle of Bollinger and two flutes from the glass cabinet. After decanting the sparkling liquid, he sauntered back over to the girl, handing her one of the flutes.

"Cheers!" Brian said, clinking his glass with hers.

"Cheers," Lila replied meekly. She took a few nimble sips of her champagne, before downing the rest.

"More?" He said, reaching for the bottle.

Lila nodded, sluggishly holding out her glass.

A few minutes passed as they drank in silence.

"You look edible by the way, is that a new dress?" Brian asked, a prurient glint in his eye.

"Yes, Helga bought it for me," Lila said, an embarrassed flush rising up her cheeks. Helga, tenacious as always, ended up buying the black gown for Lila, even though she told her not too.

"What are you doing?" Lila flinched away as Brian scooted closer to her on the chaise.

"I love you're hair like this, you should wear it out more often." He said salaciously, smoothing a hand down her auburn tresses.

She squeaked when he clasped the ends of her hair, drawing her into a crushing kiss.

"Ow!" Brian swore, pushing away. He nursed his lip, looking livid when he saw that there was blood on his hand.

"You...you bit me!"

"I said I'm not ready to forgive you, Brian. Which part didn't you get?" Lila asked scathingly. She felt completely hoodwinked. How could she have been so stupid letting her guard down?

"You'll pay for that, Sawyer," He said in an apoplectic voice, nostrils flaring.

All of sudden her phone began to vibrate on the coffee table where she left it. Before she could retrieve it, Brian seized it from the table, smirking as he stood up from the chaise.

"Give it back Brian," Lila stood up as well, feeling an upsurge of panic. What if he read her texts from Jason?

Seeing the alarm in her eyes, Brian glimpsed curiously at the phone in his hand. "I wonder what Little Miss Perfect has to hide," he said, flipping open the cover with a sphinx-like grin.

Lila shamefully watched the myriad of expressions cross his face as he scrolled through her phone.

"My, my, not so perfect after all," he said, chuckling to himself, "what's all this now?"

He showed her the last picture she sent to Jason, dark eyes glinting with amusement.

Lila gritted her teeth in silence. Why on earth didn't I delete those pictures? She thought angrily to herself.

"I tell you, this Jason of yours is one lucky guy," Brian said with a low whistle, scrolling through her phone again.

"Okay, you've had your laughs. Now can I get my phone back?" Lila held out her hand, unshed tears blooming in her eyes.

"Okay, I'll give it back. But you have to do me a favor first."

"If you want me to have sex with you-"

"I'm not that evil," Brian snapped, all traces of amusement wiped from his face.

Lila blinked, staring dubiously at him. "Fine, what do you want then?"

"Jason wants another picture. So let's give him one. Climb up on that table."


Helga toed her shoes back on, studiously avoiding the man sprawled on the bed beside her. After sneaking away from the party, Kyle had led Helga upstairs to his childhood bedroom. It was just as opulent as the rest of the manor, with parquet floorboards, ivory-white walls and a large canopy bed.

"So..., anything interesting happened in school today?" Kyle asked, for lack of anything better to say. Now that the mood had cooled down some, it left them in a state of awkward silence.

Helga snorted as she fastened the Cartier bracelet that he bought her. It was an old garland style, made of platinum and diamonds. "Are we really going to talk about school?"

"What's so wrong with that?" Kyle said, propping his head in his hand. He reached out to splay his fingers against the expanse of her back, trailing his fingers up and down her spine.

"Pillow talk is for oblivious wives, and paid whores. Since I'm neither one of them, I abstain from such nonsense," said Helga, "and what did I say about touching me romantically?"

Kyle paused his caressing, "Sorry. Look, I just want to know how you're doing. Must you be so cantankerous?"

"Fine, if you really want to know, school sucked big time. I was hung over most of the morning, and then I found out that I might not graduate with Lila this year." Helga ran a hand down her arm, staring impassively out the window. It was now well into the night; a splattering of stars interspersed among the dark, opaque sky.

"I could get father to pull some strings. He's got friends almost everywhere."

Helga rolled her eyes, "I'd rather do this on my own. Besides, wouldn't he get suspicious?"

"I thought stuff like that didn't concern you," Kyle asked with a wry grin.

"It doesn't, but if anyone ever were to find out about us, I'd rather it be in the safety of my dorm room."

"Still can't believe you're going off to college next year," Kyle said, picking at a thread on the duvet. He peered at the blonde underneath his bangs, gearing up for his next question. "Have you talked to that boy, Arnold lately?"

Helga stiffened, "No, I haven't..."

"His number's in your phone though, you had to have talked to him."

"You're looking in my phone now? What do you think this is, Kyle?" Helga lunged off the bed, staring daggers at the blond. "Did you think I was you're girlfriend? If you did, then you're clearly mistaken."

Kyle slid off the bed, shrugging his shirt back on. "It's just common courtesy to let someone know these things."

"I don't have to tell you anything!" Helga snatched her Michael Kors bag off the end table, and thunderously fled the room.

"Helga, stop." Kyle said running up behind her.

She smacked his hand away, "Get your act together, Kyle. I'm nothing like Olga, I won't become sub-servant to you."

"I know that. It's what I love and hate about you."

Helga skidded to a halt, and turned around to cross the distance between them. She looked murderous. "That's another thing. Whatever this is between us, it's not love. So stop calling it that."

"Fine, Helga," Kyle said begrudgingly, raising his hands in defeat. "If that's what you want."


Author's Note: How was that? I know it crosses a few lines, especially since they are seventeen, but trust me there's a lesson learned at the end of this story. I don't encourage Sexting or any of that, but I wanted to write about something real.