Reposted with grammar edits on 1/2/2010


A/N:

Hello HA! fans, how's everyone doing? Summer going good for everyone—that's great! Okay, here it is (yes, I know, FINALLY) the next installment in "Tutoring Arnold". Sorry it took so long but it's a bit lengthier than the other chapters so it took me a while to edit it. I hope everyone likes it—I really tried to incorporate some of the suggestions people gave in their reviews. Let's see, this chapter has much more dialogue and much less internal thought. Also, for everyone who wanted to see someone else besides Arnold and Helga there are definitely a few more characters to contend with here. And, of course, a couple of awkward though hilarious moments without which any AXH story just wouldn't be complete ;). Okay, that's about it for now! Oh, wait, one more thing: there's a part towards the end of this chapter that was inspired by a suggestion from DeepVoice (DV: Thanx again:) ). I don't wanna give what happens away by telling you what it is just yet…let's just say it involves poetry…Alright, as always R & R is much appreciated! Enjoy the story!

TUTORING ARNOLD

Chapter 4:

Lunch and a Poetry Slam


"Uh, yeah, Arnold…Uh, sorry, I was just—just—just trying to…remember what my last poem was about, that's all."

Helga knew it was a mistake the second those words left her lips, but it was all she had been able to think of. She knew she'd played right into Arnold's curiosity about her poetry and, if there had been any doubt in her mind that Arnold not only possessed but also had read her poem, it was gone now. 'What am I doing?! I should have shut him down—why am I such a basket case whenever I get close to him? Perfect, Helga—now he's going to ask you what you remember and, knowing you, he'll bat his eyelashes and you'll start reciting every ode to his glory that you can think of! Crimeny, there's gotta be a way out of this!'

To Helga's surprise, though, all Arnold said back to her was, "Oh." He then broke eye contact with her, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, folded his arms behind his head, and started staring out his skylight as though their conversation had ended and he was now thinking about something else.

Helga wasn't sure what she should say next. The spell of having her true love so close to her had now almost entirely worn off but, even still, she was worried that at any minute he would grab hand or place his palm on her shoulder…something that would leave her completely at his mercy again. 'Who does he think he is, anyway?! If he really does realize how I feel about him he should know what something like that would do to m—"

Suddenly, Helga felt a very uncomfortable realization wash over her: 'He did it on purpose…' Helga crossed her arms in front of her chest and closed her eyes, unsure of whether she should be angry that Arnold had used her one weakness against her or sad that he'd taken advantage of her feelings or even proud that he had finally taken a small stand for himself against her. Frustrated by her conflicting emotions, Helga opened her now scowling eyes and with a restless sigh merely exclaimed, "Oh, for Pete's sake, Arnold!"

Arnold continued to stare at the sky above him for a second before slowly turning his head to face Helga with a blank expression. He raised an eyebrow in a look of curiosity, hesitated, and then opened his mouth as though he was about to say something when, all of a sudden, a knock at his door silenced him.

From behind the door came a muffled question. "Hey, Shortman, can I come in?"

Arnold paused for a moment, then blurted back to the familiar voice, "Uh, sure, Grandpa."

Arnold's Grandpa entered the room with a smile on his face. "Hey, boy, how's studyin' with your little friend going?" His grin became slyer as he looked over at Helga who sunk a little lower in her seat and continued scowling.

"Uh," Arnold turned to Helga, hoping to get some kind of confirmation from her that things between them were okay. However, she refused to make eye contact with him. He glanced back at his grandfather. "Good, Grandpa. We were just…" Arnold glanced down for a moment and then picked up his notebook, which had fallen on the floor by his feet. "…Just taking some notes."

"Mmm hmm." Grandpa walked back over to Arnold's door, still eyeing both ten-year-olds with an all-knowing grin. "Well, it's about one o'clock now. If you or your little friend—eh, what did you say her name was?"

"'Helga', Grandpa."

Grandpa rubbed his chin as though the memory of Helga's name had suddenly come back to him upon hearing it again. "Right, right…well, if either of you gets hungry, Shortman, your Grandma made lunch and all the boarders are about to start eating downstairs in the dining room. "

Arnold gave his Grandpa a slightly concerned look.

"Oh, don't worry, Shortman. The food's definitely edible this time—your Grandma's on an 'Old Southern' kick this week and cooked up a big batch of fried chicken and biscuits, and for dessert raspberry cobbler…MMM!" Grandpa rubbed his stomach in delight at the thought of this last treat. Arnold couldn't help but give a small half smile at the fact that his Grandpa was so excited about eating the one food he had always warned Arnold never to touch, and that always seemed to do his stomach so much damage.

Grandpa quickly shook off the happy thought of the cobbler awaiting him two stories below. "Anyway, you two join us when you're done hitting the books." His face took on an annoyed look as he opened Arnold's door and prepared to descend to the floor below. "I've gotta get down there before that lousy bum Kokoschka steals all the white meat!"

The door to Arnold's room closed and both Arnold and Helga sat in silence until the sounds of Arnold's Grandpa leaving faded away. Arnold turned to Helga. "So, are you hungry?"

He asked the question as though nothing had happened between them just now. Helga, still annoyed with him, though, for actually using the power he had over her for his own benefit, wasn't about to let things go that easily. 'He thinks that all he has to do is hold my hand and I'll start following him around like a puppy dog? Well, fat chance—no one controls Helga G. Pataki…not even Arnold…

She whipped her head around to face him, brow still furrowed in a dark scowl, and shot back, "No!"

Following her response, there was a moment of silence between the two fourth graders in which Helga's empty stomach (she had been so busy searching her room for her Arnold poem all morning that she'd run out of the house before having breakfast) chose to give off a very distinct and audible grumble.

Helga folded her arms tight around her abdomen as though she was trying to silence this obvious sound, though she refused to give any other sign that she had heard it.

Arnold grinned. 'Why won't she just admit it?'

"Are you sure Helga?" He raised an eyebrow in suspicion, and inched himself a little closer to her.

Helga closed her eyes and held her nose up high with a willful air. "Of course I'm sure, Football Head."

Helga was hoping that her stomach had finished its pleas for food, but she couldn't get the thought of the fried chicken and the fact that she hadn't eaten all day out of her mind. Helga inhaled and suddenly realized that she could smell the savory taste of the meal as its fumes made their way through the air vents of the Boarding House and into Arnold's attic room. Still, she held her ground…though her stomach had other plans.

Another loud grumble interrupted the silence between the two ten-year-olds, and Arnold had to try very hard to stifle a laugh at Helga's persistence. With a half-lidded gaze and a wide smile, Arnold continued. "I think you are, Helga."

He moved his face a little closer to hers but Helga was prepared for it this time and inched herself further away from Arnold, "No, I'm not Arnold."

He inched himself closer yet again, enjoying this game they seemed to be playing with each other. It was funny to see her acting so stubborn about something as simple as lunch, and all so she could maintain her 'pride.'

Arnold's smile widened even more and threatened to turn into a full laugh. "It sounds like you're hungry, Helga."

Helga inched even farther away from him, trying to stare him down. In a slightly more shaky voice she shot back at him, "The only sound you should be worrying about Arnoldo is what I'm saying—and I'm saying that I'm NOT HUNGRY!"

Arnold continued to move closer to Helga. He felt tempted to grab her again so that he would have a better chance at winning this little argument they were having, but he remembered his promise not to touch her unless it was absolutely necessary. Instead, he merely continued smiling in an almost sultry way. Another loud growl escaped from Helga's stomach, and Arnold had to fake clearing his throat to cover up a laugh that finally escaped from him. "I really think you might be, Helga. Don't be so stubborn." Anticipating that she would move away from him again, Arnold positioned himself just a bit nearer to Helga before she had a chance to do so.

A little thrown off by his proximity again, but still determined to have her way, Helga replied in as firm a voice as she could muster, "I am NOT STUBBO—OUCH!" Helga had made one final attempt to put as much distance between herself and Arnold as possible. However, she had run out of couch at this point and instead fell on Arnold's floor with a loud thump where she now sat rubbing her back.

Arnold stood up and finally couldn't contain himself; he laughed so hard that he had to hold his hands against his stomach to keep himself standing.

Helga glared at him, angry about embarrassing herself. "It's NOT funny!"

Arnold made an unsuccessful attempt to cover up his laughter with a few intentional coughs and headed for his door. "Sorry, Helga."

As his laughter finally subsided he turned back to Helga and said in an amused voice, "Well, if you do get hungry, I'll be downstairs getting lunch." Then with a wink he added, "I'm sure everyone would like to meet you—they're all a little 'different' but really nice once you get to know them." And with that, Arnold disappeared from the doorway entirely.

Helga stood up and brushed herself off. "Oh, fine, Football Head! I'll come down and eat with you if it means 'that much' to you. But only because I don't wanna spend half an hour alone in this creepy room of yours!" She yelled this last sentence out Arnold's doorway, since Arnold had already reached the floor below. He heard her but only shook his head with a grin. Soon, the sound of Helga descending the steps to his room reached him, and he waited at the end of the hallway for her to catch up.

Helga was a little sulky as she walked up the hallway to meet Arnold. 'Oh, well,' she thought to herself, 'at least I'll get to have lunch with Arnold and his zany yet lovable family. I can always put him in his place later…Besides, that chicken does smell good!'

Arnold gave Helga a warm look, and in a playfully sarcastic voice said, "I'm glad you decided to join me."

Helga folded her arms in front of her chest, but couldn't help cracking a small smile. "Yeah, well, don't flatter yourself, Arnoldo. Now, come on, are we gonna do this or what?" Arnold bowed slightly and stretched out his arm in front of them both as though saying 'you first,' and with that he and Helga made their way down the flight of steps and into the dining room where the entire Boarding House was seated around a table laden with two platters of hot fried chicken and several baskets of fluffy biscuits.

Arnold and Helga took two seats next to each other near the head of the table. Helga knew that, as far as Arnold knew, she wasn't supposed to be familiar with any of the identities of the Boarders. However, considering the number of times she had snuck into his house, Helga had a pretty basic understanding of who everyone was. She went over what she had learned over the years of stalking Arnold in her head. 'Let's see; that's that Mr. Huynh guy whose daughter Arnold wanted to find last Christmas, and that guy sneaking all the drumsticks into his pants pocket must be that Mr. Kokoschka that Arnold's Grandpa was talking about—I guess he's married to that blonde woman who keeps kicking him every time he shoves another one in there, heh heh. I don't think I've seen the short one too often…but I feel like I know him from somewhere…eh well, I'll think of it later. Hmm…now all that's left is—'

Suddenly, Arnold's Grandma burst into the room whistling a Dixie tune and dressed in a full-length yellow southern belle dress complete with hoop skirt. In her right hand she held a large confederate flag and in her left a pitcher of homemade lemonade which she placed on the table as she concluded the last few notes of her song. In a southern accent acquired specially for the occasion she addressed the table, "Attention troops: General Lee has just informed me that you all will be sent to the front lines at 2400 hours tonight, so eat hearty and strike a blow against the boys in blue for me! Give a cheer for the Confederacy!"

"Take it easy, Pookie, and put down that flag before you hurt yourself!" Arnold's Grandpa managed to grab the flagpole out of his wife's hand and he leaned it against the wall behind him.

Arnold was used to his Grandma's antics, especially when it came to mealtimes, but he blushed slightly as he considered what this must all look like to Helga. He leaned close to her and whispered, "Uh, that's my Grandma. She's just a little 'enthusiastic'…"

Helga, who had already taken several bites of one of the chicken breasts she had put on her plate, looked at Arnold with a smile in between swallows. "Arnold, I'm lucky if I get a decent meal out of Miriam twice a week. If your Grandma can cook like this I don't care if she starts tap dancing on the table!"

Arnold's look of worry changed into a surprised smile—he'd never heard Helga sound so grateful before, and he rarely if ever heard her compliment anyone or anything. He chuckled a little, and muttered, "Don't give her any ideas."

Arnold poured himself a glass of lemonade and took a long, refreshing gulp, feeling much more relaxed than when his Grandma had first come charging in to serve them all. 'Maybe Helga will start to relax a little too. Then I can start trying to bring up the subject of her poetry again…or maybe even the FTi building. After all, she seems much happier already.'

Arnold put down a piece of chicken he was about to start into and took a quick glance at Helga; she was smiling and getting herself a second helping of biscuits, and smirking every time Suzie nudged Oskar for trying to smuggle food.


A little while later, Helga had made herself a central part of the mealtime conversations going on around the Boarding House table. Indeed, she seemed to hit it off well with everybody.

Mr. Potts was discussing his most recent demolition with her.

Pretending to pull the lever of his wrecking ball, he described a typical demolition to Helga. "So, then, we clear the area and I just pull back and…BOOM! Bricks flying everywhere, huge clouds of dust," he jumped to the floor, excited just by the idea of knocking down a building, "and a few sticks of dynamite to break up the foundation if I can manage it." He winked and nudged Helga with his elbow.

Helga laughed and gave him a sly look, now remembering where she recognized Mr. Potts from. "They're still letting you use the dynamite even after you and Big Bob blew tried to blow up the entire block to stop Sheck?"

Mr. Potts blushed a little and whispered to her, "Well, all we really destroyed was a billboard. And besides, uh…'strictly speaking,' not too many people know that I was the one who supplied the dynamite for that anyway, so no one's really been checking up on me. I mean, what the authorities don't know won't hurt 'em, right?"

Helga winked at him. "That's what I always say!"

Mr. Potts smiled at Helga and then turned to Arnold. "Hey, Arnold, your little friend here's alright. You should bring her over more often!" He lowered his voice. "And anytime you two wanna see my, uh, stash, just come up and I'll give you both the grand tour."

Suddenly, across the table Suzie cried out "OSKAR!" as her husband took out several plastic sandwich bags which he was now filling up with chicken since his pockets were full.

Suzie ribbed her husband hard to make him stop but Oskar Kokoschka only rubbed his side with a hurt look on his face and said, "Aw Suzie, I was just making sure that the chicken stayed fresh. Besides, if someone has to eat the leftovers, why not us, heh heh?"

Grandpa's face took on an angry expression, and he shook his fist in Oskar's direction. "Kokoschka, you thief—that food is for everyone, now put it back!"

Oskar turned his pleading eyes to his landlord. "Aw, but Grandpa, we almost never get food this good. And Suzie is such horrible cook. Just a few more pieces, please—"

"Kokoschka, if you don't put that food back you won't eat at this table for a week!" Grandpa turned back to his own plate. "And stop calling me 'Grandpa!'"

Reluctantly, but to Suzie's great relief, Oskar put back the chicken he had stuffed into the plastic baggies. "Honestly, Oskar, do you have to do this every meal—and when we have company?!"

Suzie motioned to Helga, who scoffed and replied, "That's nothing—you should see Big Bob at the all you can eat buffet. He makes Miriam fill her entire purse with food. Like he always says," Helga puffed out her cheeks and prepared to do her best impression of Big Bob Pataki, "'It's all you can eat and just because I can't eat it all of it now doesn't mean I won't want it later.'"

Oskar resumed his argument. "You see, this dear child agrees with me. Maybe just one more piece—" However, before he could grab any of the chicken, Grandpa had reached over and pulled the platter to the far end of the table.

Suzie rolled her eyes. "Oh, Oskar." She then turned back to her food, hoping that her husband's antics were done for the day.

Suddenly, though, Suzie looked up from her plate and gave Helga a questioning look. "Sweetie, did you say your mom's name was 'Miriam'?"

Helga took another swig of her lemonade. "Yeah. Miriam Pataki. Why?"

Suzie smiled and her eyes lit up with recognition. "Was it your family that shared the beach house with us during your spring break?"

"Yup, that was us." Helga cut herself a slice of the raspberry cobbler, which was now being served as the meal came to an end.

"You know, your mom and I actually got to know each other really well that week. We took some free dance lessons and, in fact, it was one of the best vacations I've ever had." Susie ribbed Oskar again, this time for trying to sneak a piece of the cobbler into one of the plastic baggies. She turned back to Helga. "Hmm…I didn't even realize Miriam had a daughter?"

Helga swallowed the bite of cobbler she was chewing and averted her gaze slightly downward. "Yeah, well…I was a little 'busy' for most of the trip." 'Yeah, busy keeping that two-timing, back-stabbing, boy-using, bimbo Summer away from my man!'

Arnold noticed the change in Helga's expression and eyed her with a curious stare. Suddenly, though, the events of that fateful trip began to come back to him: the time he had spent with Summer, the 'seemingly random' accidents that had happened to them both, Helga's attempts to show him Summer's true personality… 'Hmm, come to think of it, Helga did spend pretty much the entire last half of the week we were there following me around and warning me about Summer. And if she really was responsible for all that stuff that happened to us at the beginning of the vacation, it's no wonder she didn't have any time to spend with her mom.' Arnold smiled, surprised, now that he thought about it, by all of the effort Helga had put into helping him.

Suddenly, the voice of Mr. Huynh interrupted Arnold's thoughts. "So, Helga…you are helping Arnold with a school project?"

Helga pushed her plate away and reclined back in her seat a little. "Yeah, just for this weekend though, right, Football Head?"

Arnold blushed, sighing mentally. 'I knew she'd call me something like that in front of everyone sooner or later. Oh well, I just hope none of the Boarders pick up on it.'

Oskar and Suzie glanced at each other, smirking. Mr. Potts tried to stifle a laugh. "Football Head? Heh, that's pretty good—I'll have to remember that one."

Grandpa cut in with a grin. "So, what exactly are you tutoring Footba—uh, Arnold in?" He tried to contain his own laughter at the unusual, though amusingly accurate, nickname.

Helga considered making something up for a moment; she just didn't like the idea of people knowing about her skill at poetry. Still, this wasn't her class or anything—it was Arnold's family. 'Heck, they'll probably forget about it the second they leave the table.'

Arnold, sensing Helga's hesitation, was about to give a generic answer of 'English.' However, Helga stopped him before he could say anything. "Well, 'Shortman' here," she jerked her thumb in Arnold's direction, "is having a little trouble with poetry, so I'm giving him a few pointers."

Mr. Huynh smiled. "Oh, my daughter Mai has been studying poetry in college. She says it is a very interesting subject!"

Without thinking, Helga immediately asked, "How is your daughter doing, Mr. Huynh?"

Mr. Huynh's smile widened at the question. "Oh, she is wonderful!" He then gave Helga a curious look. "Have you ever met her? I don't remember seeing you around here too often—"

Helga's eyes widened as she realized her mistake. 'Oh, stupid, stupid! You're not supposed to know about his daughter—Heck, Helga, you're probably not even supposed to know his last name! Okay, there's gotta be a way out of this one! Quick: THINK!'

Helga glanced around nervously and swallowed hard but, luckily, she was saved from having to explain herself by a sudden exclamation from Arnold's Grandma. "And now it's time for the Floor Show troops!" She stood up on her chair and broke into song, causing Abner to bolt into the dining room and start running around her chair. "OH CHARLESTON, CHARLESTON, MADE IN CAR-O-LI-NA! SOME DANCE, SOME PRANCE—"

Grandpa cut her off with an exasperated sigh. "Enough Pookie! Sit down before the neighbor's start complaining about the noise again!"

Grandma sat down but continued to hum the tune as she held Abner who had now settled happily in her lap.

Grandpa turned back to Helga and Arnold. "So, Helga, you're good at poetry, huh?" His grin became slyer and he turned back to his wife for a moment. "Remember, Pookie, how you were so good at drawing when we were growing up? I've still got most of those pictures you drew of me." He chuckled to himself. "She tried to teach me how to do it once but I was so horrible at art that I never quite got the hang of it. You always were the talented one, Pookie."

Grandma grabbed one of his hands. "Aw, soldier, you might have been lousy with a pencil or a paint brush but you've always known just what to say to put a smile on this old platoon leader's face."

Arnold had been listening with interest to his Grandparent's conversation. He had always liked stories about his Grandparents' childhood, and this fact about his Grandma being an artist was news to him. "Wow, Grandma, I didn't know you used to draw pictures of Grandpa?"

Grandpa cleared his throat and then turned back to his Grandson. "Hmm, oh, yes, Shortman! Didn't I tell you that story…I know I told you something about the way she was always following me around when we were kids…" Suddenly, though, a loud and sick-sounding grumble interrupted the conversation. Grandpa clutched his stomach and the smile on his face changed to a look of worry. "Ooo, I knew I shouldn't have had that third piece of cobbler!" He shot up out of his chair, and, still clutching his stomach, ran out of the room yelling back to Arnold, "I'll tell ya later, Shortman—nature's calling! Remember, NEVER eat raspberries!"


A few minutes later, the two fourth graders were back up in Arnold's room, now thoroughly stuffed from the southern meal they had eaten.

Helga Pataki threw herself on Arnold's couch and began to pick her teeth with a toothpick. "Wow, Arnold," she smirked, "I've never seen anyone run for a bathroom so fast."

Arnold blushed slightly. "Yeah…my Grandpa's really not supposed to have raspberries but he always seems to forget until 'after' dessert."

Both kids laughed a little at this fact, and, feeling much less self-conscious, Arnold sat himself on his bed.

"So, where were we?" Arnold said this almost automatically, but then worried about the safety of this question as he remembered the somewhat awkward situation they actually had left off on before lunch.

'Who knows, though? She seems to be in a good mood now—maybe she'll actually start opening up to me a bit.'

However, rather than gush about her 'feelings' as Arnold would have liked, Helga was silent for a moment. Then she turned to look at him, a strange smile on her face. "I think we were talking about inspiration…"

Arnold's eyes widened. 'Wow, she's actually going to start telling me about—"

However, his hopes were dashed by the next thing that came out of the blonde girl's mouth. "Arnold, you have an entire table of some of the most interesting people anywhere right below you, and you've known them all your life and for a good chunk of theirs."

Arnold just stared at her blankly, clueless as to where she was going with this. "Well, I guess so but—"

She cut him off with a commanding voice. "Pick one of them and describe them to me in a poem! GO!"

"Uh…" Arnold wasn't sure where to begin. He wasn't even sure who he should pick, actually, but he had obeyed Helga's take-charge tone of voice too many times before in his life to ignore it now. "Well, I…um…" he cleared his throat, hoping to stall for more time, then finally gave it his best shot: "My Grandpa is old and wise and smart, He's funny and tells great stories, I just wish he wouldn't eat raspberries…"

"EHHH!" Helga made a loud sound like a buzzer signaling someone giving a wrong answer to a game show question. She sat up on Arnold's couch, yawned, and stretched her arms behind her head.

Arnold stood up, looking at her with a slightly annoyed expression. He narrowed his eyes a bit and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What was that for? I thought I was doing pretty well considering that I was just making it all up!"

Helga smirked. "One:" Helga held her index finger out in front of her, "There was absolutely no emotion in that thing at all—I mean you only got through three lines of it and I was already falling asleep!" Helga put up her middle finger to accompany her index one. "Two: people who are 'old' and 'wise' and 'tell stories' are a dime a dozen—why don't you try describing some of the traits that make your Grandpa a unique and important individual to you? You know, things that aren't PAINFULLY obvious to everyone else!" Helga raised her ring finger to accompany the other two still in the air. "And Three: think before you write Football Head because I defy you to come up with an easy rhyme for the word 'stories'!"

Arnold thought for a moment about what word might rhyme with 'stories', then blushed as he realized that almost nothing came to mind. 'Glories…maybe, but it's a little strong…Tories…well, it's a word but what does that have to do with Grandpa…'

"Oh." Arnold sat back down on his bed looking a little crestfallen. He sighed and rested his chin on his hand. "Helga, I just don't think I'm any good at this…"

Helga stood up, smiling, and walked over to Arnold's bed where she sat down next to him. "Aw, come on Arnoldo, don't give up on me that easily! Heck, you're the one who's supposed to be the optimist here! And if you keep up this attitude, I might actually have to call Olga for help like Simmons said, and no one wants that—trust me." She ribbed him jokingly and Arnold couldn't help but crack a smile.

Helga grinned but resumed her commanding tone of voice. "Okay, now let's try this again: pick someone else who was at the table and tell me something about them that I wouldn't pick up just from meeting them today. Something you could only find out from having a deep personal relationship with them. GO!"

Arnold cleared his throat, ready to try again. "Ok…" He considered for a few moments before picking his next subject. "He doesn't seem to want to help others, He seems to care only about himself, Still few people give him a chance to prove, That he thinks his wife is his greatest wealth."

With a hopeful look on his face Arnold turned back to Helga for approval. "What about that? Was that okay?"

Helga closed her eyes and put her arms behind her head, lying back on his bed. "Hmm…which one of them was that about?"

"Mr. Kokoschka; you see, he always acts a bit selfish and lazy, especially to his wife, Suzie, but I know that deep down he really loves her. He might not always show it but there are times when you can see just how much he really cares." Arnold paused for a moment and then asked again, "So, was it alright?"

Helga turned to him with an approving smile on her face. "Well, I don't know if it'll win any awards but it honestly wasn't half bad, Head-Boy. That's what Mr. Simmons wants, and that's what I'm looking for; there was something in it below the surface of who Mr. Kokoschka is—something deeper that most people might overlook."

Arnold's expression turned from one of insecurity to one of happiness and, forgetting his new policy not to touch Helga unless it was absolutely necessary, he hugged her in gratitude. "Thanks, Helga."

Arnold looked at Helga's face out of the corner of his eye as he continued to embrace her. Suddenly, he raised an eyebrow as he noticed that Helga was smiling in an odd way with her eyes half open as though she was lost in daydream or something. He felt his face flush and his throat dry up—for a moment he didn't know what to do and just sat there with his arms still wrapped around her. 'What's wrong with her? Should I do something to snap her out of it? She seems so 'happy'…'

A small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped from Helga's lips but it was enough to shock Arnold out of his trance of bewilderment. He separated from her and cleared his throat. "Um, Helga?"

Instantly, she shook her head as though clearing it and resumed her normal facial expression. "Huh…oh, um…" Helga blushed and turned away, rubbing the back of her neck with her right arm. "S-so…so what are you waiting for, Football Head? Pick another person and do it again. Sheesh, do I have to tell you everything?! Now, GO!"

She was back to normal and Arnold breathed a sigh of relief. Still curious about what had caused such a change to come over her in the first place, though, he suddenly realized that he had just come in about as much contact with her as possible by hugging her. He felt himself blush hotly. 'I really need to remember to not touch her. Besides, she's already opening up to me a little bit more… I don't want to do anything to make her feel uncomfortable again,' he swallowed nervously, 'or me.'


For the next hour or so Arnold and Helga continued composing poems in this fashion, Arnold recording them in his notebook as they went. And, slowly, Arnold began to understand what Helga had been trying to teach him ever since she'd first come over. Sometimes he slipped back into his old habits but, as they progressed through each boarder, he improved his poetic skill more and more.

"Torn apart by war and battle, He did what he could to her save her life, And after years of waiting and hoping and praying, He finally got to see her on a Christmas Night…"

Helga was reclining on Arnold's couch again, now making paper airplanes out of some of the pages of her own notebook. She stopped in the middle of making one and looked at Arnold with yet another approving smile. "Wow, Arnold-o, I'm impressed. You're definitely getting the hang of it. And that one was about…"

Arnold blushed at Helga's compliment. "Mr. Huynh; he got separated from his daughter during the Vietnam war a really long time ago and it wasn't until just last Christmas that somehow he found her again—"

"Yeah, yeah," said Helga quickly, cutting him off before he could begin to ponder just how 'mysterious' the return of Mr. Huynh's daughter actually was (or recall how Helga had strangely known his daughter's name at lunch earlier). "Anyway, Arnold, the point is that that one was your best yet! Heck, you could probably hand that one into Simmons on Monday and pass with flying colors—I almost think we don't even need to meet tomorrow."

Arnold was smiling contentedly, proud that Helga was so pleased with him. However, her last words began to make him worry: he had been so distracted by his recent success that he had almost forgotten entirely about his goal to talk to Helga about her poem. Now, however, it was starting to weigh on his mind again and he knew that he was running short on time to bring up the topic. 'It's already 2 o'clock, and if we don't meet tomorrow then this is my last chance. I've got to find a way to bring the conversation back to it. Hmm…' Suddenly, an interesting idea occurred to Arnold—one he probably wouldn't have dared to try before Helga's helpful lesson but that he now felt he had enough confidence to attempt considering his recent jump in poetic skill. He wrote down his Mr. Huynh poem quickly and then laid the notebook aside.

"Okay, Arnold. Is there anyone else we haven't tried yet?" Helga mistook Arnold's few moments of deep thought to mean that he was stalling again, and wanted to keep him going on the roll he had already established.

Arnold eyed Helga warily and moved to sit on the couch next to her, which caused her to sit up and make room for him. "So, it can be anyone that was at the table downstairs during lunch, right?"

Helga raised an eyebrow, not liking the look in his eye, "Uh, yeah Arnold…any of those 'unique' people we ate with an hour ago."

"Okay then…let's see…" Arnold could feel his heart pounding and he began to play with his hands. He swallowed hard, and opened his mouth…

"There's a girl I half know who sat near me today, Though she made me beg to get her there, She's always so stubborn about her reputation, but for once she almost didn't seem to care…"

Arnold had to marvel at the sudden change that Helga G. Pataki underwent as he said these few words. She hadn't seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary with the first line; by the second line her eyes had gone very wide and her mouth was slightly agape; and somewhere between lines three and four she jumped up and flew at Arnold with a mixture of hurt and rage on her face.

"HEY, WHO SAID YOU COULD WRITE ANYTHING ABOUT ME?!" She had him pinned against the couch, towering over him as though he'd just struck the biggest nerve possible.

Arnold turned his face slightly away from hers and tried to remain calm. "Well…you did, Helga…"

She pushed him against the couch harder and growled through gritted teeth. "I swear Arnold, I'm gonna—"

Arnold swallowed hard, and said in a slightly more confident voice, "You said it could be about anyone at the table, Helga, and you were at the table."

Helga was silent for a moment but then reluctantly released Arnold from her grip. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she turned from him and seated herself as distant as possible from him on the far end of his bed.

Arnold rubbed one of the shoulder's Helga had had him pinned by and waited for her to say something. 'Maybe I really am going too far with all of this…I should probably just give her some space. Still, if she's just going to act like nothing's happened…' Arnold sighed mentally, knowing that he would have to do whatever possible to keep her from running away from the situation. 'I just can't let her get out of this.'

Meanwhile, Helga's thoughts were running a mile a minute, and so were her emotions. 'That little twerp, who does he think he is?!…Oh, my little love god, you actually wrote a poem for me!...First he reads my poem without asking, then he starts using my weaknesses against me, and now what does he think he's up to?!...I actually inspired Arnold—I think I'm gonna die!...I hate him!...I love him!...Oh, Crimeny I really am a BASKET CASE!!!'

Aware that Arnold was waiting for a response from her, Helga merely scowled at him but said in a much calmer voice, "Fine."

Arnold, taking her reply to be a good sign, was about to respond. However, he stopped when he noticed a sly, almost malicious grin come to Helga's face. Her scowl disappeared and now her voice became distinctly pleasant. "You know, there was someone else at the table too, Arnold…" Helga cleared her throat and Arnold had a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "A certain Football Head learned something from me today, Now he's a bard whom people can actually stand, But if he thinks a few well placed words are gonna get to me, He better watch it—," Helga clenched one of her fists, "because he's living in dreamland!"

Helga leaned back, a satisfied smirk on her lips. Arnold was speechless for a moment, then he raised an eyebrow and a small half smile came to his face. He stood and sat himself on the end of his bed opposite from Helga. "I might be dreaming, But you have to confess, I think you're worried that when it comes to poetry, You might not be the best."

Helga raised an eyebrow and her grin became even more cunning. "Arnold, you're dealing with a veteran of words, I've composed more lines than you've ever read, Don't think you can surpass your 'teacher' so easily, Or I might have to pound your face in, Football Head!"

Arnold wasn't about to take things slowly this time around. Rather than casually inching his way toward Helga, he got up, walked briskly across the length of his bed, and placed himself directly in front of her. He used her few seconds of surprised shock at his sudden approach to start right in on his next rhyming message. "If you're so great at writing and have made so many things, Why keep it from everyone and continue to hide, I don't think you realize that you should be proud of your talents, Just like you tried to be on the roof of FT—"

"BYE!"

"Huh…wait, HEGLA!!!" Helga had been sitting completely still listening to this most recent poetic composition of Arnold's. Yet, the moment the letter 'F' in FTi had left Arnold's lips her look of surprise had changed to one of panic and fear. Instantly, she'd bolted out so fast from under his gaze and toward his doorway that he hadn't been able to stop her.

Helga looked furious and she was mumbling something under her breath that sounded like, "No way! No stinkin' way! I'm outta here!" as she stormed across the room.

Arnold instantly ran after her and managed to grab her arm away from the handle of his door before she could reach it. "Helga, stop!"

In the back of his mind Arnold had been hoping that he would be able to subdue her again by coming in contact with her. However, Helga's fury was currently outweighing her love and she instantly pulled away from him, not about to be taken in by him again that day. "Who said you could touch me, Football Head?!" 'There's no way I'm gonna let him start thinking that all he ever has to do to win against me is grab me!' "Now move, I'm outta here!"

Arnold wasn't sure why she was so upset but he knew, somehow, that he had made a mistake. 'I've got to make her stay, or at least come back tomorrow.' "Helga, I'm sorry. Please don't go!"

She only scowled darkly at him and shouted back, "I didn't agree to help you so you could play games with me Arnoldo! You needed tutoring and I tutored you; that was the deal and now we're done! Oh and," Helga punched her right fist into her left palm, "if you tell ANYONE about our little 'poetry session' I'll deflate that Football Head of yours PERMANENTLY!"

Not thinking about what he was saying, Arnold rolled his eyes and quietly mumbled under his breath, "Yeah, right…"

Helga glared evilly at him. "What was that?!"

Arnold gave her his most innocent look. "I said…um…" Suddenly, an idea came to him and he turned his eyes downward in a defeated and almost sad appearance. "I said fine, Helga..." He then walked away from the door, making sure to keep his back to his angry friend.

Helga was about to bolt from the room but she hesitated and looked back at Arnold, her anger cooling as the seconds passed until she finally mumbled in a much less threatening voice, "Look, just forget it…I…I'll see you on Monday." Helga turned the knob and opened the door slightly…however, she didn't leave just yet. She was waiting for some kind of response from Arnold who still hadn't turned back around to face her. Slowly, her expression changed from one of anger and annoyance to one of concern and worry. 'Oh, for Pete's sake, I just burst his little bubble of optimism, didn't I? He thought he could get through to me if only he 'did his best' and tried to 'talk it out'…Well, maybe I did overreact a little…I mean, I can't blame him for being a little confused about, well, everything. Oh Arnold; just look at me, try and stop me, yell at me—do SOMETHING to show me that you still care about me!"

Helga cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck with her free hand, glancing back and forth from Arnold to the floor. "Um…unless…unless you wanted to meet tomorrow too…" she stammered. Then she quickly added in the best bully voice she could summon under the circumstances, "If there's an opening in my schedule, I mean…"

Arnold smiled to himself, happy that his plan had worked and that Helga had responded so well to his 'disappointment'. He turned to look at Helga with a hopeful smile on his face. "I'd like that Helga—and I really am sor—"

Helga cut him off, not wanting to reminisce on what had just happened between them. "Yeah, yeah, so, same time, same place?"

"Sure Helga." Arnold approached her again to see her out of his room.

Helga stepped onto the attic ladder and descended the first few steps. However, before disappearing entirely down into the hallway she addressed Arnold one last time. "But no funny stuff." Her eyes narrowed and she pointed her index finger up at his face.

"She told me no funny stuff, And I couldn't help smile, Because I should probably be the one saying that to her…"

"Don't push it Arnold, and I'll see you in a while."

Helga smirked as she finished his poem for him, then finished descending the steps and made her way downstairs to exit the Boarding House. As Arnold watched her go, he couldn't help but chuckle at the ending line she had made up for his last poem of the day. And, as Helga G. Pataki disappeared around the corner in the hallway below he could only think to himself, 'At least I've got tomorrow to clear things up once and for all…I just hope nothing else happens…'


A/N:

Whew! Okay, Saturday is officially over! Arnold only has one day left to confront Helga, and Helga only has one day left to open up to Arnold despite her fears and show him her true self! Interesting things are going to be happening in the next two chapters (I already have a lot of it planned out, it's just a matter of actually writing it), so please stay tuned. Again guys, I can't tell you how much your reviews are appreciated—you're a wonderful audience! So keep it up and let me know what you think so far :) Thanks a bunch!

The poetry slam idea was courtesy of a conversation I had with DV!

AXH 4EVER!!!

-Azure129