Arnold turned and saw a bunch of roses Gearld had thrown careening over him. Arnold quickly tried to catch them as they passed over his head. He reached out, fell through the front door of the restaurant and summersaulted once, twice, three times and somehow managed to still catch the roses. He looked up and saw Helga looking at him slightly perplexed. Her trip to the bathroom had apparently done a number on her as her absurd hairstyle had somehow morphed into something a little more normal, and her rather wavy blonde hair was now flowing elegantly down. He'd never seen her look this way and he couldn't deny this new look of hers suited her well, and actually looked kind of pretty. The fact that he even could have that last thought kind of shocked him, but as he looked at her vulnerable expression, and then at the flowers in his hand, he smiled awkwardly and offered them to her.

"Here." Arnold said.

Helga accepted the offering and sat back down at the table as Arnold did likewise.

"I thought you'd left." she said, sounding rather hurt. Arnold had fully expected her to curse him in anger, or finally drop the charade and start beating him with her fists. Instead, her tone of voice completely threw him.

"Um, no." Arnold said as he folded his hands and looked down in embarrassment, wondering if her feelings were actually hurt as her voice suggested. Not likely. This was still Helga, as he had to keep reminding himself.

"Is something wrong Arnold?" she asked, no longer sounding sad but instead concerned. Helga apparently had some acting talent, because her question had him genuinely believing that she cared.

"No, nothing. It's just that…" Arnold started. He couldn't even explain to himself what he was about to do, but strangely he felt perfectly comfortable being open about his feelings in this moment, and with Helga Pataki of all people. He couldn't help but realize he had more or less forgotten that this girl even was Helga, as if her Cecile act had somehow fooled him even though the truth was obvious. He did have a habit to seeing the good in everyone, which could explain it. He'd seen it in Ruth even though he'd clearly been mistaken. Regardless, he strangely felt he could trust Helga here and now, as crazy as that seemed.

Arnold sighed, "Have you ever noticed that sometimes when you think you like a person from far away, and you find out they're not what you thought they were when you get up close?"

"Well, what do you mean?" Helga asked.

Suddenly Arnold could hear a violin playing a tender romantic tune as he looked at Helga, the kind of music he used to hear in his mind whenever he looked at Ruth. To his relief he quickly realized the music wasn't in his head, but coming from an actual violinist walking around the restaurant.

"Well, there's this girl I thought I liked." Arnold said, "But then it turned out that when I got to know her, we had nothing in common."

"Well, maybe she's not the girl for you." Helga said in the most tender and reassuring voice Arnold had ever heard, "Maybe the girl for you is someone you didn't expect. After all the most beautiful gift can come in the plainest box."

In that instant the impossible happened. Arnold felt a strange sensation he never expected could happen in the presence of this girl; he felt warm inside, and comforted. He couldn't think of a time in his life when Helga hadn't been yelling in anger, and now to hear her soft voice so filled with apparent concern for him was foreign to say the least. In fact, he couldn't help but note that he was now feeling exactly what he had been lacking in Ruth's presence. What did that mean? What on earth was this girl up to? Arnold considered her words. Helga was certainly dramatic by nature but she'd have to be some kind of master thespian to have said that line so sincerely, which led him to believe maybe this wasn't an act. Maybe she really meant every word she said.

"You know, I think you're right." Arnold admitted, which Helga returned with a warm smile.

She was resting her head on her hands clasped together, staring at him with what Arnold could only interpret as admiration, but that was simply impossible. Helga had mocked and tormented him since before he could remember. He'd never done anything to her and never felt the need to retaliate, but that only seemed to encourage Helga to intensify her bullying. The only conclusion he could draw from that was that Helga was simply a bad egg who delighted in causing others pain. And yet, he still didn't exactly think of her as his enemy.

As Arnold reflected, he remembered that Helga did have at least one or two moments where she had shown she wasn't completely rotten. On one occasion Arnold had lost his hat, a memento from his absent parents that he always wore, which had caused him a minor existential meltdown. Somehow, Helga had apparently found it and returned it to him, so she must have at least had some sense of decency. That one small gesture didn't exactly stack up to all the other nasty things she had done to him over the course of their lives, but it had at least given him some pause for thought.

Returning to the present, Arnold looked back at Helga who was still gazing at him with that funny look in her eye. Despite his earlier misgivings and suspicions, Helga had somehow managed to console him, and that warm feeling of solace made Arnold realize something else, which he felt he had to share with her.

"I'm really glad you came to visit me. I'm having a great time at dinner with you." he said with the utmost earnestness.

"You are?" She asked, "Me too."

Both kids paused as Helga looked away somewhat sheepishly. Arnold kept looking at her, still trying to work out what was happening.

Suddenly Helga looked excited, then spoke somewhat tentatively, "Arnold there's something I have to… I need to say."

This was it. Whatever ridiculous punchline this long game had built up to was about to land. Arnold had tried to turn her own trap against her, but somehow he had been lured in by her surprisingly convincing act. Now that he had been let down by Ruth it didn't seem to matter. Frankly he'd rather be the victim of whatever prank Helga could throw at him than dwell on his heartache.

"Arnold, I have to tell you, I really like you." she said, "And I have to know, do you like me, too?"

Time stood still. She reached out a hand and rested it close to his own on the table. Arnold had no idea what to say. He had expected this to be the big reveal moment, and it was, but not quite as he expected. Maybe she expected him to say yes just so she could reveal herself and laugh in his face. He had to beat her to the punch and tell her the jig was up. He reached out his hand and prepared to place it on top of hers when something in her face stopped him. Helga was certainly capable of smiling despite all evidence to the contrary, but he had never seen her smile like this.

It wasn't just the fact that she was smiling warmly at him, it was the look in her eye that perturbed him. Arnold considered himself a fairly good judge of character, and nothing about Helga's expression suggested anything insidious. No, there was no lie in her eye, but there was something. Something Arnold recognized in himself; a look of unfulfilled longing, as if she was peering through glass at something unobtainable. Something that caused her great pain but also warmed her heart. She looked completely genuine, which then could only mean one thing.

The truth suddenly dropped on Arnold like a ton of bricks; Helga hadn't been trying to lure him into one of her usual mean-spirited pranks at all. She had donned a disguise ironically so she could reveal her apparent true self. This ruse of acting like a nice, caring, sensitive person wasn't a ruse at all. And most alarmingly, the reason she had gone to such lengths appeared to be that she genuinely, unironically liked him. Helga G. Pataki, the most feared girl in school for good reason, liked Arnold. That revelation should have alarmed Arnold, and perhaps sent him running from the room in terror, and yet he felt more confused and intrigued than afraid as more questions clawed at him. Why would Helga feel the need to be so mean all the time if this was who she really was? Arnold certainly had no trouble being kind to people, even if they were often terrible to him in return. That thought triggered yet another epiphany; nice people like himself were easy to walk all over, and Helga knew that. Was that why she acted so tough? Could it be that underneath her tough as nails exterior she was just be afraid of being hurt?

For the first time in his life it was as if he was truly meeting Helga and seeing her as she really was. Normally this might have felt like an extreme conclusion to jump to, but if there was anyone who could be called the complete antithesis of Ruth in this moment, by being emotionally present, kind, and interested in him as a person, shockingly it was Helga. All she appeared interested in was trying to get to know him on a personal level, and then comforting when she saw him in pain. Ruth had treated him like nothing, and apparently to Helga he was everything. He couldn't help but feel deeply flattered, if any of these wild thoughts held any truth.

Arnold no longer felt like the vulnerable one in this instance. It was Helga now putting herself on the line and opening up to him, risking his rejection as she leaned towards him and stared longingly into his eyes. It was a lot to process at once, but Arnold knew he had to do something, he just needed some time to think. Remembering that Ruth was sitting alone across the street, that seemed to be the solution. Rude and disappointing as she was, she at least deserved the courtesy of being told the date was over.

"Um… would you excuse me one last time?" Arnold asked, "There's something I kind of have to… take care of."

Helga nodded in understanding, without a trace of suspicion in her eyes. Arnold had no idea what he was getting himself into, but if he broke things off with Ruth that would at least clear his head a little. As he dashed back over to Chez Pierre once again he spotted a busboy about Ruth's age hanging around her table. As he got closer he could hear them conversing.

"So, do you like gum?" the busboy asked.

"Yeah." Ruth responded, staring at him dreamily.

"Me too." the busboy said with a smile, "I love gum."

"Do you like my hair?" Ruth asked him.

"Yeah, I like your hair." he replied.

"Me too," said Ruth as she reached for a breadstick. The busboy did the same. Without realizing it, they grabbed the same one and broke it in half like a wishbone.

"Hey, we both took the same bread stick." he said with excitement as if seeing it as some kind of sign.

"I love bead sticks." said Ruth.

"Me too!" the busboy exclaimed, "Want to go get some ice cream?"

"Yeah, sure." Ruth said excitedly.

The busboy ran off shouting to his coworker, as Ruth got up to follow him but when she finally noticed Arnold standing there she approached him, still smiling.

"Oh, hi, Alfred." she said, not unkindly, "We were just leaving. You can clear the plates now."

Arnold took a deep breath, feeling a small rush of annoyance and anger. Nonetheless he tried to remain civil as he spoke. "Listen, Ruth," he said, "I'm not the busboy. And I'm not Alfred. I'm ARNOLD!" he picked up the Valentine he had made for her, "Before you go, I need you to know something. The truth is, I came here to say something to you tonight. I… I'm 'Anonymous."

"The poet?" Ruth asked.

"I love your work!" said the busboy as he reappeared.

"Me too!" Ruth chimed in.

"No, you don't get it," Arnold bit out in frustration, "I'm the one who sent you the Valen—" He stopped as he noticed how perplexed they both were, "I mean, yeah, that's right, I'm the poet. Have fun getting ice cream. You two belong together."

"Gee, thanks, Anonymous!" said the busboy, and without another word he and Ruth linked arms. Arnold watched, to his unexpected relief, as Ruth P. McDougal walked away and out of his life, a life he feared was about to be cut short when he heard another voice call out his name.