Here it is! Chapter 3! So I had someone inbox me and told me something that some stories have that she has read that had irritated her, so I decided to clear up something about this specific story! No, Arnold and Helga will not have sex in this story. Intense making out? Perhaps!(; But nothing graphic will be presented. They are 11 years old! And if I ever write a story where they're intimate, they will be teenagers! (16-18 years old). Anyways, onto Chapter 3!
Arnold sat at his desk in his room, staring blankly at this stupid poetry book. He had read through so many poems, but none of them spoke to him like Mr. Simmons claimed. He grunted and put his head on his desk in frustration. Why couldn't he be good at this? He was smart when it came to Math, Science, even History! Literature was a whole other ballpark for him. He had read romance poems before when he had his crushes on Ruth and Lila and even wrote some when he liked Mrs. Felter. For some reason, he had a difficult time emotionally connecting to poetry. How did Helga do it? He groaned in distress now that Helga had wormed her way into his thoughts again. He was sure Helga could help him on this if she would speak to him! As he began to give up, he heard a gentle knock on his door.
"Who is it?" Arnold depressingly muffled out. Whoever it was let themselves in, as he heard his door squeak open and footsteps approaching. He lifted his head and craned his neck to see his grandfather standing beside him. He really wasn't in the mood for conversation right now, but he couldn't exactly tell his grandpa to "get out". I mean, he could, but he had a feeling that it would be frowned upon.
"Why the long face, Shortman? School not going so good?" Arnold put his head in his hand as he clicked his ink pen. Phil got a chair and sat in it backwards, facing the troubled kid.
"Grandpa, do you know anything about poetry?" Phil put a hand to his jaw while deep in thought. Arnold's eyes twinkled and he suddenly became hopeful that maybe his grandfather can help him with this daunting homework assignment. He had never known his grandfather to write poetry, but he also didn't know that he was a master at checkers until a few years ago.
"I wrote your grandma a few poems when we were kids. Nothing well written I might add." Phil gave out a chuckle as Arnold lifted his face to the ceiling in despair. He was doomed. Phil cocked his head in curiosity.
"Why? Are you writing your little friend with the one eyebrow a poem?" Phil asked, leaning in close to his grandson. Arnold gave a harsh laugh at that. If he wrote Helga a poem she would probably spitball it back at him. His frown deepened at the thought of it. He knew that Helga wouldn't do that. Not now, after everything that had been said between them. He had to continuously remind himself that Helga did still deeply care about him. She just wasn't ready to let down her walls and be open to everyone.
To be honest, Helga had every right to be protective of herself. Everyone knew her to be the tough Helga G Pataki. What would everyone think if they strolled into school holding hands? Rhonda would be texting everyone that Helga had gone soft and Harold would have a field day with the teasing. He didn't want Helga to go through that, and of course, neither did he. If he could just talk to her, surely they could come up with something! Arnold just wanted to march over to her apartment and demand for them talk. He had a funny feeling though that it would only result in a door being slammed in his face. His mind came back to his bedroom when his grandma popped in with a plate of mashed potatoes, green beans, a roll and a pork chop.
"Oh! If you're writing poetry to Eleanor, don't get writing advice from him. He wrote me a poem back when we were kids that was so awful, I laughed for hours!" Arnold couldn't help but smile, noticing his grandpa blush from being embarrassed like that. As he was about to let them know that it was a school project, Phil stood up and stomped his foot, interrupting his wife cackling.
"Pookie, we were 12! What 12 year old can write good poetry?" Arnold let the words fall from his mouth before he could stop himself.
"Helga can." Gertie and Phil both looked at Arnold, then looked at each other, both sharing a knowing look. The eccentric woman placed the plate at Arnold's desk, giving him a peck on the head. Arnold gave her a small smile.
"I'm not surprised, Tex. Sweet dreams!" Gertie said as she left, closing the door behind her. Phil shook his head and grumbled to himself incoherently as he sat back down.
"So. Having trouble putting feelings to paper, huh?" Arnold pushed the dinner plate away, suddenly losing his appetite.
"No grandpa. It's a homework assignment that Mr. Simmons gave us today. We have to find a poem in this book that 'speaks to us' or whatever and write an analysis on it. I've gone through this book so many times and nothing is speaking to me! In fact, this book couldn't be more silent..." Arnold trailed off as he looked at the title of the book.
"In Which Language Do I Keep Silent"
He suddenly got an idea as he began to search through the index at the beginning of the book. Phil gave out a 'hmm' as he watched Arnold flip pages hastily. Finding what he was looking for, he let out a victorious "Aha!" There was a poem that had the same name as the title! The actual poem that the book was named after! Arnold knew that the title of the book drew him in, but he had no idea that it was also a poem in the book itself! Arnold began to read the poem, Phil reading over his shoulder as well. Arnold felt sweat bead on his forehead when he realized what, or who, he was thinking about as he read. He couldn't believe it. Phil smiled complacently as he slowly straightened out his back. His back popped like popcorn, which brought Arnold back to reality.
"I don't think you need my help, Shortman. Seems to me that you've found what you're looking for." Phil placed a hand on Arnold's shoulder. Arnold bookmarked the page and got up from his chair.
"Yeah, the poem is perfect for my assignment!" Arnold felt so relieved that, what he believed to be, the hardest part of the assignment was over. Now all he had to do was write about the meaning behind the poem! Phil chuckled as he picked up Arnold's untouched dinner and made his way to the door.
"I wasn't talking about the poem, Arnold." That made him stop in his tracks. What did he mean then, if he hadn't meant the poem?
Seems to me that you've found what you're looking for...
Arnold shrugged it off. It was late and was too exhausted to analyze anything anymore. He changed into his PJs quickly as Phil was about to close the door. Arnold crawled into bed as Phil turned off the lights.
"Goodnight Shortman."
"Goodnight grandpa." Arnold said with a yawn. As the lights cut out and the door was shut, Arnold sat up and picked up his pen and paper from his shelve by his bed, and began to write. As he was writing, he couldn't fight his thoughts going back to the blonde girl that had pushed him out of his life. He quickly came up with an idea, that left him chewing his bottom lip nervously. He could already hear Gerald say "You're a bold kid, Arnold" as he reached for his phone.
Meanwhile, at the Pataki residence, Helga was having equally a difficult time finding a poem of her own. She laid in bed reading every poem that caught her attention. Frustrated, she picked up the phone and dialed Phoebe's number. If Phoebe can't help her, she was destined to fail. It rang only once before she heard her best friends voice.
"Hello, Helga!" Helga flipped through pages while she began to vent.
"Hey Pheebz, have you found a poem for this assignment yet? I've looked through this book since it was handed to me and I can't find one good enough! I mean criminey, how many poems does this Earl guy have to write?" Helga grumbled as she slammed the book shut and tossed it aside towards the edge of the bed. Phoebe gave out a small chuckle.
"Helga, how many poems have you written?" Helga could hear the cheekiness through the phone. She took a breath to rebuttal but knew she had no argument. She let out the air in her lungs in a long sigh.
"Ok, point taken." Phoebe laughed a little harder at calling Helga out. Helga was never comfortable letting anyone know about her many volumes of poems that she had written throughout her life, but Phoebe was the one exception. Phoebe had always known what, or who, Helga's muse was so she felt pretty comfortable with her best friend sneaking a peek here and there at her poems. Phoebe had always been there for Helga, through her sleepwalking spells that lead to Arnold's house and even when she thought she was dying. Phoebe was the one solid thing in Helga's rocky life.
"I actually found the perfect poem for me!" Phoebe said happily. Helga couldn't help but mock her, making her voice high pitched and whiney. What? She was her best friend, she had every right to poke fun at her!
"Well la-de-da for you Miss. School-Is-So-Easy-For-Me." Helga retorted. Phoebe didn't reply right away and Helga could suddenly hear her flip through the pages of her own book. Right when she was about to ask what was with the silent treatment, Phoebe gasped.
"What? Spit it out, Phoebe!" Helga's curiosity was eating at her like crazy. What in the world did Phoebe find in that 5-second silence?
"I found the perfect poem for you, Helga! Go to page 135!" Helga's eyes grew large as she flung herself across her bed to reach her book. She got to page 135 and started reading. She felt her insides melt and her heart swell. Her palms began to sweat as she finished reading. This was one of the most beautiful poems she had ever read! How did she miss this one? She re-read it, knowing full well that Phoebe was patiently waiting on a reply. Could she read this to the class? What's more, could she give her honest opinion about it? As if Phoebe could hear her thoughts, she interjected.
"Helga, you can't argue that the poem is perfect for you. For once, don't be afraid of the other kids and their opinions. I know you'll have no problem doing this assignment if you choose this poem." Phoebe was right. Helga couldn't argue with her assumption. The poem was perfect. It was every bit as beautiful and touching as she strived for her poems to be. Slight jealousy crept into her at the thought that she could never write anything this amazing. She really could ace this assignment if she used this poem. What about the presentation though? Would others realize who this poem reminded her of after reading it? Would she be so embarrassed that she wouldn't be able to finish her reading? She felt the bile rise in her throat just at the thought of someone laughing at her while she read this. While she knew all she had to do was shake Ole Betsy at the idiot who did laugh, she also knew this would be a different kind of embarrassment. Reading this poem would definitely make her feel vulnerable in front of her entire class. Could she handle that? Helga held her breath as she put her bookmark on page 135.
"I gotta go, Phoebe. I have an analysis to write." Helga swore she heard Phoebe smile through the phone if that was at all possible.
"As do I. Goodnight Helga!"
"Night Pheebz." Helga hung up the phone, grabbed her notebook and a purple glitter pen and began to write. After about 15 minutes of writing, her phone started to ring. She picked it up and held the phone in the crook of her neck.
"Phoebe, I've already started writing and I'm on a roll so this better be good." It was silent for a little bit until she heard a cough on the other end of the line.
"Hello? Helga?" Helga almost dropped the phone. It was Arnold.
"Arnold? What're you doing calling me this late?" Helga dropped her pen caused by her hands shaking. Why in the world is Arnold calling her? She took a glance at her clock and the bright red numbers read 8:37 p.m. Whatever the reason, it obviously couldn't wait until tomorrow. She began to panic when she realized that he probably wanted to talk about what happened this morning on her stoop. She wasn't ready to talk about that now, if ever!
"Sorry to bother you! I was hoping I wasn't waking you, but apparently, you're working on your poetry assignment." Helga felt her mouth go dry.
Oh my beloved! You could wake me up in the middle of the night just to say hello and I wouldn't be the least bit upset! I would go for days with no sleep if it meant I got to hear your angelic voice!
"Doi, I'm not asleep Football head! You're lucky I wasn't though." Helga threw out the empty threat. Arnold and she both knew that she would never physically hurt him.
"Whatever you say, Helga. Uhm, the reason I called was to see if you wanted to meet me at Mighty Pete? I can't sleep and was wanting to get some fresh air. I thought maybe you'd like to join me?" Arnold finished with a tiny crack in his voice. If Helga was standing she would've fallen to her knees. Why did he want her to join him? She also knew that if he wanted fresh air, he could've gone to the roof through the window above his bed. Why all the way across town to Mighty Pete? She heard him clear his voice and realized that she hadn't said anything.
"What's in it for me, Arnaldo?" Arnold paused and thought carefully about his response. A smile stretched on his face when he knew the perfect answer. It was risky, but when talking to Helga, everything was.
"Well, you get to see me and I get to see you. It's a win-win." Helga felt tingles go from her toes to her head. Was he flirting with her? Hadn't she made it perfectly clear that he needed to forget about her and move on? Helga didn't deserve his good heart, nor his flirting! As much as she wanted to hang up on him, her fingers wouldn't let her. She took a shaky breath.
"Whatever Football head. Meet me in one hour and if you're one minute late you'll be pulling spitballs out of your hair for a month!" Helga said in a rush and hung up before he could respond. Arnold felt his chest become lighter. She actually said yes?! He really didn't think she would, but now that she had, he became riddled with nerves. What would he say to her? Should he bring his poetry book and say that it was a simple homework get together? He hung up the phone and quickly jumped from the bed, putting on a white shirt and his green jacket.
He still didn't know what he was going to say, but he would figure it out once he saw her. He left, closing his bedroom door quietly. His poetry book lay abandoned on his desk.
Arnold and Helga, sitting in a tree! ;D I'm honestly having too much fun writing this lol I went through the entire poetry book and the poems I chose for both of them seemed to be perfect! I've already started writing the next chapter and it's very fluffy, so be prepared for that! Thank you again for reading and leaving reviews! 3
