Arnold rang the doorbell for the third time, then sighed heavily. She's either really sick, or really mad. Probably both. He sighed again. I don't even remember what we were fighting about. He'd gone to check on Helga, since she hadn't come back to class, but she was gone. Usually she just spent the rest of the day in the Nurses office whenever she was sick. e guessed someone someone had checked her out, but forgotten her backpack.

He stared down at the pink bag in his hand debating on whether he should just leave it in front of her door, or keep it. He threw it over his shoulder and began walking home. If she's too sick to answer the door it'll stay outside all night. Neither of her parents would notice it, or care enough to bring it in. He glanced up at the cloudless sky. And with Helga's luck it would somehow manage to rain. I'll try to give it to her again tomorrow.

He thought about her the whole way home. He knew she loved him, he loved her back, maybe not with the same intensity Helga felt, but he did love her. So he was left to wonder why things were so hard. Why does she think she needs to be so mean to me? No one is stupid enough to make fun of her. They're too scared.

He slowly pushed open his front door and walked straight to the kitchen. His mom was at the sink washing something.

"Hi mom." He sat down at the table, dropped the two bags beside him, and grabbed an apple from the bowl sitting in the center of it.

She cleared her throat. "How was school?" Her voice sounded weird. Is she getting sick?

"It was school. Are you okay?"

She sniffled. "I'm fine, Honey."

He stared down at the fruit in his hands. "Mom, I have a weird question."

"Let's hear it."

"Can you make someone sick? I mean, well," he sighed, "Helga and I were fighting again and she was fine, but then I said some pretty mean things, and then she just threw up all over the floor. I know sometimes you can get sick if your nervous or –" his next few words came out in a rush, "I went to her house to apologize and she wouldn't answer the door and I just –"

"Arnold." He stopped and looked up at his mother who had just turned around. "You didn't make Helga throw up. She's really sick. I gave her some medicine, but she'll probably need to stay home for a few more days, that is if I can ever get a hold of her mother." Arnold furrowed his eyebrows.

"When did you give her medicine?"

"After I went to the school to–"

"When were you at the school?" She tilted her head to the side and gave him her be-quiet-and-I-will-tell-you look. He took a bite of his apple.

"I went to the school at about 11:30 because she called me." She sat down at the table and rested her head in her hand. "Her dad couldn't come get her, and her mom wasn't answering the phone, still isn't answering the phone. I took her home, but her house was locked up, and she couldn't find the key." She stopped when her voice cracked.

"Mom? Are you sure you're okay."

"I'm fine. I brought her here after she passed out in front of her house." He practically jumped out of his chair.

"Is she hurt?"

"No, just really sick." He set his apple on the table.

"Where is she?"

"She's on the couch, you must have–" He turned and headed for the living room without waiting for her to finish her sentence, but came to an abrupt halt when she grabbed his arm. He glanced back at his mother who simply raised an eyebrow at him.

"I just want to see if she's okay. And apologize."

"She just went back to sleep about an hour ago." His mother turned slightly and took both his hands in hers. "She's really sick and needs to rest." As he stared into her eyes he noticed how red they were.

"Were you crying?"

"Yes, but I'm fine now."

"What happened?"

"Nothing for you to worry about." She sighed. "Arnold. I know it's none of my business, but are you going to break up with her?" He stared down at his shoes.

"Did she say that?"

"Yes." He looked back up into his mother's warm brown eyes.

"That's not what I said! I said . . . it's just . . . it's really hard because one minute she's sitting next to me telling me how she wants to go to Paris someday and the next minute she shoves me to the floor. I was really mad because I'm tired of her pretending all the time! It doesn't have to be this hard!"

"Arnold," Stella smiled and squeezed his hands. "Relationships aren't supposed to be easy. Your Dad and I still fight, even after all these years, but we still love each other."

"I just . . ."

"There is a lot about Helga that you don't understand and probably won't for a long time. But you can't fix her, or make her be someone she's not. Do you still love her?"

Arnold felt his face heat up under his mother's gaze and started at the floor. Trying to keep his embarrassment under control he swallowed hard before answering. "Yes."

His mom released one of his hands and tilted his face back up toward hers. "Then just love her." She smiled and brushed her thumb against his cheek. "You're good at that."

He stared at his mother wondering how she could know so much about relationships and a girl she had only met once before.

"Promise me you won't wake her up."

"I promise."

She released him and he tiptoed into the living room. There was a pile of blankets on the couch with a few strands of yellow hair sticking out from underneath. He walked over quietly and was startled when she suddenly rolled over. He froze in place. Please don't wake up! To his dismay one of her eyes opened.

"Arnold?" She whispered quietly. "Is that you my love? My angel come to visit me in this the hour of my death." His eyes went wide. She was obviously delirious.

"Helga?" He whispered.

"Speak quickly dearest, for I fear I do not have much time."

"Helga, you're not dying. You're just sick."

"Darling, you need not tell such falsities to comfort me, I have accepted my fate."

"Mom!" He shouted over his shoulder. He turned and started walking back toward the kitchen.

"Oh but it is a cruel hand the Gods have dealt me." His mother came running into the room.

"What's wrong?" With wide eyes he pointed over to the couch. She knelt down at Helga's side and placed a hand of her forehead.

"Here she is, the angel of death come to deliver my soul to the heavens." With a heavy sigh his mom turned to him.

"Go get my thermometer, it's on the counter, and an ice pack from the freezer." He quickly followed her instructions and stood by her side as she took Helga's temperature. She shook her head and placed the cold compress on the sick girl's head.

"Even now the cold hands of death tear at my mind!"

"Mom?" He had a hard time controlling his voice.

"It's just a fever honey. She probably has the flu."

"But she's–"

"A little loopy right now. I told you she just needs to rest. If you're that worried then why don't you sit with her until she falls asleep again."

"What if I get sick?"

"Oh, I have no doubt that you already are."

"What? I feel fine." She shrugged.

"We'll definitely know tomorrow if you've been able to fight it off or not." She nodded toward the couch. He sat down by Helga's head and leaned over.

"Arnold?" She asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry." She said as her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry too Helga. I really didn't mean it." She offered him the tiniest smile as she reached up and took his hand. "Stay with me?"

As she placed his hand against her cheek and closed her eyes he remembered his mother's words. Just love her. You're good at that. He sighed heavily and stared at the frustrating and unpredictable girl lying next to him. Something told him he was in for a long bumpy ride.

"I'll stay with you." He told her as he gave her hand a slight squeeze.

"Good." She tossed the pillow she was lying on off the couch, curled up on her side and placed her head in Arnold's lap.