Beforehand--thanks for the reviews, guys. Not all were what I expected, but uh…it's fine. I like my story, so I'm gonna keep going regardless. I wasn't going to post this chapter until I finished 11, but I thought I wouldn't keep you waiting, so here it goes. This is a pretty slow-moving one, so I warn you.
Oh, Disclaimer…These are Bartlett's toys, I'm just playing with them.
Chapter 10: I Won't Lose You, Will I?
Arnold never really asked for anything for Christmas. Even though they knew they wouldn't get answers, his grandparents still asked him every year what he would like, but he always told them that he didn't need to have anything special. After he turned ten, they started grilling Gerald to see if there was anything their grandson had his eye on in particular to surprise him with on Christmas Day. This year would be no different; Arnold figured that Gerald already told them about the keyboard he'd been admiring down at Twin Rivers, but he didn't expect to get it. He never expected anything, but he did wind up getting the keyboard. Being who he was, he playfully scolded them and the boarders for all pitching in to buy it for him before he thanked him, insisting that he didn't deserve something so expensive and nice. Phil, as expected, laughed and told him to pipe down and enjoy making music. From after breakfast until noon, Arnold sat up in his room and toyed with it, playing songs he knew and melodies he'd made up in his head. He was getting very far in a song he'd been recently into when a knock on his door disturbed him.
Rolling his eyes, he figured it was his grandfather. "Come in, Grandpa."
"How'd you know it was me?" he asked him as he shut the door behind him.
"I just knew," Arnold smiled, turning in his stool to face him.
Grandpa pulled up chair by the closet and sat next to him, looking over the instrument in wonderment. "It sure is a mighty fine-looking thing."
"Yeah, it's really nice, thanks again," Arnold told him, playing a couple of notes.
"Will ya stop thanking me already? It's Christmas, for Pete's sake, you get gifts, yeesh! Now play me something, Arnold, don't think I got this for ya without expecting to get entertained."
Sighing, Arnold reached for one of the books of sheet music Gerald gave to him in search of something he knew how to play already. There were a few arrangements of songs by Frank Sinatra, and "L.O.V.E." caught his eye. He learned to play it back in the sixth grade; of course, he hadn't played it since then, having practiced it so many times. But he knew Grandpa liked it, so he went ahead and pecked his fingers away at the keys.
Surely enough, Grandpa grinned and swayed along to the tune. "Ah, Short Man, that's great--can you sing with it, too?"
Without stopping, Arnold kept playing, but widened his eyes and shook his head.
"Ah, come on, Short Man, you know the words!" he teased, elbowing him.
"Yeah, but Grandpa--"
"Arnold, come on now, you can sing! Everyone can sing, it's just that hardly anyone sings well," he told him cheerfully, but Arnold shook his head again.
"I can't sing, Grandpa, really, I just play the music--"
"Well, you should definitely learn how by next week, since your cousin Arnie would love to hear it."
"Arnie's visiting?" Arnold asked worriedly, continuing playing the song.
"Arnie's moving in!"
Arnold stopped the song abruptly and slammed his fingers on the keyboard. "He's what?!" he shouted, flabbergasted.
"I know, I know," Grandpa started, sighing. "Nobody's really that fond of your weird cousin--except for maybe your Grandma, but she's not too normal herself--anyways, he's gonna be moving into the boarding house and going to school here and all that."
"But--why?" Arnold asked painfully, dreading the thought of Arnie occupying the same building as him for longer than a week's time.
Grandpa scratched the back of his neck as he explained. "Well, your aunt and uncle are both getting full time jobs, and they don't wanna leave him alone all the time, so they figured he should come over here and stay with us."
"Isn't there anywhere else he could--"
"Believe me, Arnold, if I knew about anyone else willing to take him I would have suggested it," Grandpa insisted, lowering his voice. "But there isn't, so lucky us, we get Arnie. His room will be Mr. Smith's old one and his parents are paying his rent."
Arnold let out a long, drawn-out sigh and practically bashed his face into the keyboard.
"I did the same thing at the table downstairs," Grandpa told him, rising from his seat. "Only the table didn't make that noise, haha!"
With a chuckle and a mumble of "I'm such an old coot," Grandpa exited his grandson's room, leaving him to wallow in dread of his upcoming turmoil.
--
"Man oh man, just when I thought we were never gonna have to see your cousin again, he has to go ahead and waltz right back into the picture."
Gerald and Arnold shared breakfast at Bigal's Café the following morning, discussing Arnie. They were seated at the same table Rhonda and Curly had occupied a short time ago.
"I don't know what I'm gonna do, Gerald," Arnold said miserably, poking at his eggs with a fork. "I mean, it wasn't so bad the last time I saw him, but--"
"Arnold," Gerald started, "the last time you saw Arnie, you were fighting with him about Lila."
Lowering his eyelids at the remembrance of the past, Arnold continued, "Well, I'm fine about the Lila thing now, aren't I? I mean, I'm over it. I don't care about him and her."
"Then why are you getting all worked up about him coming to stay here?"
This was a good question, seeing as Arnold had no idea how to respond.
"Aw no," Gerald began fearfully. "Don't tell me you're started to get feelings for her again."
"No!" Arnold retorted quickly, waving his hands in front of him. "Geez, Gerald, I've been trying to pry her off of me the past month!"
"Well?" Gerald pushed. "What have you got to worry about, then?"
With a sigh, Arnold leaned back in his chair and stared at the remaining food on his plate. Gerald had a point; since he no longer had nor wanted Lila, Arnie couldn't possibly take her away from him. But then again, Arnie had lost interest in her, so that left him to pursue the other girls. But Arnold didn't like any of the other girls, so he couldn't possibly get anything stolen from him this time, right?
Arnold met eyes with Gerald, debating inside his head whether or not to bring it up.
"What, man?" Gerald asked seriously.
"I just…" Arnold didn't know how to word it. "I…"
"What?" Gerald grew impatient quickly.
"I don't like anyone, do I?"
Cocking his head to the side, Gerald told him, "You haven't said anything about that lately."
"What's the last I said about that?" Arnold asked him, dependant on using Gerald to answer his own questions.
"The last time I heard you talk about that was when you were under the impression that Helga G. Pataki was in love with you," Gerald answered him between laughs. He still hadn't learned to take it seriously.
"I was thinking, Gerald…maybe--"
"Aw no," Gerald cut him off, worried. "No, no Arnold, no way. We been through this already. Don't even think about it."
"Think about what?" Arnold asked innocently.
"You know exactly what I'm trying to say, now don't do it."
"What, Gerald? What?" he tested him, wondering if he was thinking the same thing.
"You're thinking you might like Helga, aren't you?" Gerald asked, reading his thoughts.
He caught him. "I--uh--"
"You're thinking about when we saved the neighborhood and she went crazy and confessed her undying love for you on top the FTI building."
"Well--I--"
"Forget it, Arnold," Gerald said, trying to make a point. "It was a crazy night and she flipped her lid! She probably drank some of her mom's smoothies before she went and stalked us. You don't think she was serious, do you?"
In fact, that was exactly what he thought. "How else can you explain the fact that she followed us around town all night and fed us vital information--even though she disguised herself, she went out of her way to help us."
"Did you forget the way she's always treated you, even continues to treat you?" Gerald pressed.
Arnold frowned, surprised at Gerald. "Come on Gerald, she was much worse when we were younger. She grew up a lot and you know it."
"She still acts like a bitch towards you, though."
"Only sometimes!" Arnold argued, determined.
Gerald was, too. He fought back. "Yeah, but think of all those 'sometimes.' She's never grateful for all you do for her, she's constantly insulting you, she's messed a bunch of shit up for you--face it, Arnold, she hates you!"
Arnold shook his head and reverted back to his memory. "Hate is a strong word. Besides, you're forgetting, Gerald. She hears me out, she lends me a shoulder--she was even there for me through the Lila thing, even though she can't stand her. And don't you remember anything about saving the neighborhood? She gave us everything we needed to know--without her, we wouldn't have done it. Why would she risk her life if she didn't at least like me, even the littlest bit?"
Shrugging, Gerald admitted, "Okay, okay, so she went ahead of herself that one time. Still, I highly doubt she loves you."
"Why, though?" Arnold inquired, extremely curious.
"Why are you so obsessed with figuring this out?" Gerald shot back at him.
"Gerald, if I don't understand her feelings, how am I going to figure out my own?"
Gerald looked thoughtful for a moment, completely silent. The look on his face told Arnold that he understood and agreed. His nod was an invitation to continue his train of thought.
"Besides, I took your advice."
Gerald eyed him curiously and asked, "What advice?"
"Remember before Rhonda's party, when you said the only I'd know if she--when you told me to kiss her and her reaction would be the answer?"
Gerald let out an obnoxious groan and smacked himself in the forehead. "I thought you knew better than to take that seriously!"
Arnold huffed and continued, "Well, I kissed her in the closet."
"And?"
"Her reaction proved my point!"
"She slugged you, didn't she?"
"Gerald, she practically melted in my arms."
"So?" he said, obviously not wanting to think about Helga Pataki actually having feelings. "Maybe you're just that good of a kisser."
"Gerald…"
"What did she say after it happened?"
"Well--" Arnold remembered how she looked right after they broke away, right before she said a single word. She was practically glowing; her eyes were shining in the dark, but of course, it only lasted a few seconds before she snapped at him, demanding to know why he planted one on her. He explained himself and she, of course, flew off the handle. Arnold sighed hopelessly as he remembered her threat. "If you ever, ever do anything like that ever again, Football Head, I'll rip all of your limbs off and nail them to your front door!" As expected, Gerald laughed at all of this, saying that his point was proven. Sighing, Arnold fell silent and watched Gerald nibble on a piece of toast.
"Don't you remember when we were younger, when kids who liked each other always picked on each other to cover it up?" Arnold asked him after a long pause.
The boy took a bite of his pancake. "Well, yeah…"
"How do you know that's not the method Helga always used? How can you be so sure she doesn't…love me? Why would she say something that outrageous if she didn't mean it?"
Gerald took a sip of his hot cocoa and set his mug down slowly. "Love is a strong word, Arnold, and kids our age throw it around like it's nothing. And she was how old when she said it? Nine?"
Arnold sank in his seat, frowning at his friend. Gerald was making almost too much sense, but Arnold was so sure that somehow, he was right about Helga. Frustrated, Arnold took an aggressive bite of his bacon and narrowed his eyes at his friend.
In turn, Gerald shook his head and chuckled, shoving the toast into his mouth.
"Seriously, Arnold, what nine-year-old understands what love is?"
--
"Oh, Arnold…"
Helga hadn't had such a good time all alone in months. Sweating slightly, she pulled her shorts back up over her thighs and gently placed her Christmas gift from Olga back in her bedside drawer.
"Keep it locked, baby sister," Olga advised her the previous night. She'd presented the gift to her many long hours after their parents had gone to sleep, and Helga discovered why after she'd unwrapped it.
She didn't expect Olga to give her a toy of that kind for Christmas or any other occasion, especially not when Helga was merely fourteen, but her sister had gone to great lengths in order to feel closer to her, especially now that she was hardly ever able to visit home. Even though it was weird and random, Helga had to admit that it was indeed the best gift she'd ever received.
After her breath had finally slowed down, Helga decided that she couldn't sleep, even though she had worn herself out. The blankets were thrown aside as she climbed out of her bed and tiptoed to the closet.
There was no longer a model of her beloved composed of used bubble gum or any other garbage material that resembled him on display behind the clothes. When she turned thirteen, she sent the rotting pile of debris to the garbage and replaced it with a four foot by four foot poster, plastered with dozens and dozens of pictures of Arnold. It took her about a month to cover it with photographs from the school newspaper, his personal websites, past yearbooks, and photo albums from friends, but she managed to occupy most of it. There were several spaces that she left open, such as the top right corner, in which she vowed to cover with a photograph of her and Arnold together. How she was going to get a particularly nice one with him, she didn't yet know, but she knew that that significant spot was reserved for a specific Kodak moment.
Pulling out one of her notebooks from the shelves, she flipped through its scribbled-on pages, searching for a blank spot. Once she glanced at half of the book, she found one, and grabbed one of the pens that sat on the shelf. Feverishly, she sat cross-legged in front of the poster and clapped her hands to turn on the light so that she could write…
Oh Arnold, all of the alcohol in Miriam's stash couldn't possibly intoxicate me as easily or as quickly as the taste of your sweet, delicious lips…
Sighing deeply, Helga closed her eyes and bit her lip, remembering Rhonda's party and the game of Five Minutes in Heaven with relish. It was merely by the luck of the draw that she wound up with Arnold in that dark, tight closet, but he was the one who had made the move and instigated the kiss. A quiver ran the length of her spine as she remembered every touch and every movement of Arnold's; the way his tongue gently ran over her lip, the tight grip he had on her waist…and the overwhelmingly hypnotic scent of his shampoo. Arnold had been passionate and aggressive in those painfully short, surreal five minutes, and Helga loved it; swallowed it whole and kept it in the pit of her stomach to make herself squirm with excitement and longing. That kiss was the most he had ever given her and it left her hoping--starving for even more. Whether or not she was going to get her wish was a mystery.
--
Arnold had phoned Helga a couple of days before New Year's Eve, asking her to come to his house and rehearse their play in his bedroom for a few hours. After-school practices were going to begin soon as they returned from break, and Arnold knew that he needed to prepare. Jerkily stating that she had better things to do than sit around reciting lines with him, she grudgingly agreed to come over in the afternoon. Smiling to himself, Arnold pulled a red flannel shirt over his wife beater and waited for his guest to arrive.
There was a knock on his bedroom door at two o' clock sharp. Assuming it was Helga, Arnold rose from his lazy position on his couch and tossed his script to the floor to answer the door.
It was her indeed, dressed simply in a pink shirt and black slim jeans. Arnold took note of the pink ribbon around her neck, forgetting that she wore it so often, but figured he'd wait to comment on it. This afternoon had to run as closely to plan as possible.
"All right Arnoldo, get your script, let's run through that scene we got cut off at," she said bossily, setting her tote bag down and flopping on the couch.
The blond boy sat right next to her with his script in hand, determined. Flipping to the correct page, he glanced at her questioningly to be sure.
"What scene was that, Helga?"
Impatiently, she pointed to the number in the corner of a page in her own script. "Scene five, genius, the one where we're getting mushy on the boat."
"Oh--right," he mumbled, glancing over the page to find his spot. "Right here, is that where we were?"
Rolling her eyes, Helga nodded, waiting to get into character.
He began with his line: "I can hardly wait for your wedding."
"Me either," she replied as instructed by the script. Arnold looked at her in surprise, only partly because his script told him to do so.
"Boy, I never thought I'd hear you say that. Can I come?" he continued, smiling.
The blue in Helga's eyes softened as she seemed to hold herself back, but she replied, "I couldn't have it without you."
Arnold did his best to embrace his role, Michael, as Julianne's best friend and object of her deepest affection, so he looked at her intensely, as if he knew the secret meaning behind her words. Looking from her to the wall, Arnold said to her, "It's normal to have…second thoughts, huh? To be scared."
Sensing the turn in conversation, Helga said, "I wouldn't know. I never had that many first thoughts."
"I mean, you commit to a wedding," Arnold told her as Michael, grasping the part. "And then it seems like...this...momentum, you know? You forget you...chose it."
She nodded, awaiting his next line.
"You and I…I mean, in all our relationships with other people...We didn't use the word 'love' a lot, did we?" Arnold managed to force the sentences out of his mouth. Bravely, he continued, "Kimmy says…When you love someone, you say it, you say it out loud. Right now, or the moment…"
Helga gazed at him intently, almost smiling; longing swimming in the blue pools that were her eyes. He imagined that the script called for her to look at him like that, but he knew better.
"…passes you by. She's a smart girl."
Helga looked down at her lap and then ahead of herself at the wall, awaiting his next line, which was: "We don't have a song."
Glancing back at him, she raised an eyebrow.
"Kimmy and I. We don't have a song. Is that a bad sign?"
Helga shrugged, almost smirking. She knew what was coming next, and Arnold feared it. He knew too, but he certainly didn't want to do it. His discomfort seeped through his character and Helga scolded him.
"Come on, Arnoldo, you gotta sing."
Grunting, Arnold rolled his eyes and glanced back at his script. He wanted to make sure he remembered the correct melody.
"Someday, when I'm awfully low, and the world is cold…"
Helga instantly reverted back into character, grinning softly at him as he continued to sing.
"I will feel a glow, just thinking of you, and the way you look…tonight."
Arnold looked gently at her, smiling, completely unaware that the script ordered him to do so.
"Dance card filled?" he asked.
"I'll check," she said, rising up from her seat as he did the same. "I have it on powerbook, these days."
Steadily, he held out his arm, inviting her to come into them. She did, and as she did so, she murmured, "This part is crucial to the play, Arnoldo. If we screw it up, we screw up the whole image of Michael and Jules' relationship, so make sure you get it right."
"That's why I've got you here, Helga," he told her softly, smiling down at her and turning her slowly on the spot.
As he expected, she stared at him, bewildered, for just a moment, and then slowly rested her head on his shoulder. He sang his lines in her ear.
"With each word, your tenderness grows, tearing my fears apart…"
She pulled him closer.
"And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, touches my foolish heart…" he stopped to look at her, still in his arms.
"Where did we first hear th…"
"The night we met," she answered, barely audible. "The night we fell in love."
Arnold swallowed hard at the way the l-word fell from her lips. This was all simple acting, and he was torturing himself by looking into the deeper meaning of it.
"So we heard it…like, right that…that first…"
"We danced to it," she told him softly, turning him, "just like this."
Just like that. The way her hand gripped his shoulder, the position of his arm around her waist--it was just like that the last time they danced, years ago, on April Fools' Day. He wondered if she remembered, and then looked in her eyes. Of course she did.
"I won't lose you, will I?" he asked suddenly, remembering that he had a line.
"No," she said almost too fiercely. "Because I won't let you."
--
Author's Note--
About Helga's "gift": I'm pretty sure you know what it is…I figured it would bring more of the "teen heat" into the story, plus, it's always fun to see an action that's totally OOC (referring to Olga buying it for her, not Helga using it. I'm not sure about you, but I find her doing that scarily realistic). She's shown some certain sexual desires for the boy in the series, and now here, she's got hormones, which increase those desires, so there's the reasoning.
Remember the mention of that classic Sinatra song--I plan on bringing it up again in a later chapter.
Psst--are you paying attention to My Best Friend's Wedding? ;)