Another update is here!

Before we begin, let's respond to the reviews

Guest- I'm curious, what were you expecting as far as the origin story?

Ajay435- Writing that scene with Grandpa was hilarious haha. I love how a lot of his kooky stories seem to have an odd 'unmoral' ending but they still have a silver lining to them. Arnold's mind is definitely coming up with something. You'll catch a glimpse of that here.

The Rhombus- I'm glad you found the humor in it xD it definitely made for fun writing, especially with Grandpa. He's a favorite of mine with his wisecracks. You're spot on with how some of these hazing rituals get started. I actually think the episode itself is a useful metaphor for just how tedious conflict and wars are at their origins. It's the same way for Arnold and Trash Can Day.

Deep Voice- Thank you for the awesome review! You give a good guess as to what's going to happen but you may be surprised;) I'm definitely going to throw a few curveballs before the end. As for Helga's role in this, well I think you're about to get a glimpse of that just about now.

Thanks to all who have kept up with the story. It's not going to be much longer and the climax is almost here. So stay tuned!

As always, let me know what you think with a review! And enjoy the fic!

Chapter 7. Choices

One day until Trash Can Day

Helga Pataki gazed out of her bedroom window with a look that could be described as 'lost.'

It was raining, and it seemed fitting for her present situation. A Sunday afternoon, cancelled by the ill-favored weather, kept her inside the madhouse that was her home. Already, she could hear the arguing downstairs.

"Bob, please…"

"Enough, Miriam. I already told you. The business is going fine."

"But you haven't made a sale in weeks."

"Pipe down, will ya!" she heard her father say in a hushed tone that still carried upstairs, given his naturally booming voice. "Or the girl is going to hear us."

"Bob," came the tired voice of her mother, but for once it did not sound slurred. "She's going to find out sooner or later. At this rate, we won't be able to pay off the mortgage."

The reality of those words seemed to silence him temporarily.

"I know, Miriam. I've seen the numbers. What do you want me to say? That I'm a failure? A freakin loser?"

"Of course not. I just don't want to see you stress yourself out like this…"

"I'm fine!" the middle-aged man insisted. "You don't need to worry about this, you or Helga. It's my responsibility to put the food on the table, to keep the roof over our head, and make sure my family is safe. And I won't bow out just because times are bad. We Patakis do what needs to be done without any help from anyone. End of story!"

"B…"

"I'm watching my soap operas Miriam. The only other thing I want to hear about tonight is dinner."

And that was the end of that.

Watching the drizzle of the rain slosh down on the gravel city streets, Helga felt unfazed by the conversation she had just heard. Perhaps that was because she had been overhearing them for nearly two months now.

Bob and Miriam were not exactly the subtle types. It had not taken long for her to suspect something was off. An empty pantry was nothing new, as her mother consistently forgot groceries in a variety of ways- leaving them on top of the car, spilling them, etc. But though this happened almost twice every week, her father had had the means to get more. Now, the length of time without fresh food in the house was increasing.

Then she noticed that Bob was not as bombastic or arrogant as he usually was. The constant bragging over his beeper empire, the notches on his belt, his blowhard way of explaining things to everyone, had lessened considerably. Sometimes he would come home not saying a word; merely taking a seat in his chair, drinking a soda, finding comfort in his soap dramas. Even when he tried to boast or make himself seem like a big shot, it was quite obvious he was overcompensating…well more than he usually did.

But Helga had uncovered the first concrete evidence of her family's financial woes when she had returned from a trip to the bathroom before bedtime and had heard a rather intense conversation between her parents about the bills. Such a topic would not normally arouse her interest but hearing the phrase "way behind on the house" had made her stomach drop a few feet. Of course, it wasn't long after that she eavesdropped again on Bob complaining about the lack people wanting to buy beepers.

Sometimes adults didn't give kids enough credit. Especially in Helga's case where lack of true parenting had forced her to grow up faster than most children her age. Knowing her parents and how the household typically operated, she could work out most things for herself. This was just the latest in a long line of misfortunates she had discovered the hard way. But despite the prospect of losing their home, she wasn't as upset as she might be. It's not that such a prospect did not frighten her or cause significant stress, even pain. It's that her main focus remained elsewhere.

Breathing into the window, she began to trace a football with her finger, adding small details along the way- hair, eyes, the smile she adored so much- resulting in a small makeshift figure of a familiar boy.

Arnold.

"Oh my, love," she whispered as if the window drawing could hear her. "I stand on the brink of utter ruin, powerless to prevent the demise of my father's crumbling business. Yet, all I can think of is you."

Helga turned and stood against her wall, slowly sliding down as she continued her monologue.

"I wish with all of my heart and soul to be kinder, to treat you with the respect and dignity you give to everyone around you. Like when you brought us together with the fourth graders in a noble act of unity, all you wanted was to prevent more senseless violence…why couldn't I have voiced my support instead of disdain? Why must I continue to humiliate you for your righteousness, when it is the reason that I worship the ground you tread? Why…"

It was symbolic of all her questions. A single word: why? But those questions were rhetorical, for she already knew they had answers.

With a deep breath she continued her latest soliloquy.

"I torment the very boy that gives me strength to keep going in this forsaken place. For without you, my football headed love god, I am truly nothing. What has this town offered other than throes of disappointment? Except you, Arnold. I dream of you every night and I hope every day I can prove myself to you somehow…someway…"

She sank all the way to the floor, her emotions practically overwhelming her senses, the urge of desperation growing stronger by the second. Between her home, her family, Arnold….no, now was not the time to lament on her failures in love. There was much more at stake than just that.

"Trash Can Day is tomorrow and there seems to no way to stop it. No way to halt the cruelty that extends from our grade to the one below us. Of course, it's my fault for ruining Arnold's attempt to cease this stupid ritual."

Clenching her fists, Helga got up off the floor and flung herself on the bed, arms and legs spread in an eagle formation.

"Criminy! Can I ever stop being this DEFCON five, psycho?! I should be supporting Arnold in his quest to end Trash Can Day, but I can't! How can I stand up for him and keep my precious reputation at the same time?!"

She raised her arms in the air and then flopped them down on her bed, as if to symbolize the futility of the situation. On the one hand, there was the person she cared about most and the yearning to throw off the chains of her insecurities to assist him in any way she could. On the other, there was her status as the alpha of P.S. 118, the one that no one dared mess with or hurt because she would dish that hurt back out tenfold. Reputation had been the sole reason she had gotten as far as she had. Yet, that reputation was not honest and held no endearment from anyone, not even herself. It was built on the blocks of fear, fury, and the feelings of the scared little girl that raised walls to hide away from the victimization she had known her entire life.

Sure, those walls made her feel safe. But safety was not the same as happiness. Not the kind she desired.

Helga rubbed her forehead. The choice was there, but unlike the moments where she aided Arnold anonymously from afar, no such luxury would be afforded to her this time. Trash Can Day was coming, and there was a decision to be made. Stand by Arnold and risk exposing her secret to the world or stand by the tradition; enabling her to continue as the scowling menace of the 5th grade.

Her mind fell silent for once, bringing back the sounds of the rain and the TV downstairs, blasting the echoes of dramatic, nigh impossible storylines of love and tragedy.

Which ending would her story follow?

Alleyways were not usually a spot you wanted to find yourself in after dark. So, when Arnold checked his watch, it was more out of slight anxiety than anything else. A lot of his worst moments had come in places like these: getting mugged, discovering a rabid hobo by accident, being chased by Wolfgang, etc. All unpleasant to say the least.

However, tonight there was a reason and a very specific one at that. If tomorrow was to be successful, then his plan needed to stick to the letter. There was a lot of potential for this to go either way. It would bear fruit or end up disastrous.

He checked his watch again.

9:56

It was late. Arnold told his grandparents he would be back by ten at the latest after dinner. He knew they wouldn't be too upset with him if he was a little tardy but at the same time he didn't want to breach their trust.

"Come on, where are you?" he muttered to himself.

He had a flashlight just in case. He also had his karate training, learnt from his grandmother just in case someone thought he was a soft target.

A rumble and fall of a trash can sounded to his left and he quickly shone his flashlight in that direction.

"Ow! Relax, it's me!"

Arnold quickly lowered the light, as he recognized the figure.

"Sorry. What took you so long?"

"My mom. She wouldn't leave me alone until I had all my homework done."

"Sounds like she really cares," Arnold smiled.

"Yeah she does," the figure said in begrudging manner but one that also held appreciation.

The blond preteen cleared his throat in anticipation, needing to get straight to the point.

"I'm glad you wanted to meet when I called this afternoon. Just so we're clear, you're still in for tomorrow right?"

"Without a doubt. I've seen and been through enough Trash Can Days to know how much they suck. Anything I can do to help, I'll do."

"Excellent. Can you get out of school in time?"

"We actually get out half an hour before you do. So, I'll have plenty of time to make it to P.S. 118. It'll be nice to see the old place again, actually."

There was a pause, before the figure spoke again.

"Just so we're clear you don't want me to do anything until you say the code word?"

"That's right."

"And the code word is…"

"Wolfgang."

"Right. Just wanted to double check."

Arnold checked his watch. It was exactly two minutes past the hour. He needed to head home.

"I have to go. But if everything goes well, then the first Monday of June, 1997 should mark the end of a hazing ritual that never should have started in the first place."

"You really think it'll work?" the figure asked.

The oblong headed boy didn't answer right away. Everything going right was a big if and it could very well backfire. There were doubts, but the potential good outweighed the risks. He had to take this chance.

"I sure hope so. I have faith in my friends."

"Alright," the figure shrugged. "I'll see you tomorrow, Arnold."

He left the alleyway and rejoined the main city street unobtrusively, thankful that the latest part in his plan had succeeded. However, there was still a long way left to go. And how tomorrow went would depend on his fellow 5th graders. Was it naive to place his trust in them after they had spurned him twice now?

Someone has to, was the only reply his mind came up with as he walked back to the boarding house under the gaze of twinkling city lights.

So obviously Helga feels a tremendous amount of conflict and pain given her situation. What will she choose in the end? And what's Arnold up to? Who was the mysterious figure in the alleyway? Bonus points to anyone who can guess!

~The Wasp