Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.

Summary: After waking up to a bizarre series of events, Helga finds herself back in Hillwood after a 3 year absence, and just in time for her senior year of high school. But maybe a particular, lovable, football headed guy can make her return worthwhile. Oh, if things were only that simple, and with Helga and Arnold, they never are.

A/N: *Cry face* second to last chapter guys.

Don't trust a note,

Never trust a note.

Dude's got a dark side though, She heard an inner feeling she hadn't clearly heard since her childhood, How dark, you aren't sure though, are you? Nope.

"You okay?"

Helga snapped from her inner trance, glancing from the window back to Arnold's questioning face, "Yup," She nodded.

"You look like you've got something on your mind."

He was observant, even though he had appeared as if he wasn't, but that didn't mean she was going to just offer up what was suddenly bothering her. Which is stupid. Just show him the note and don't listen to that other chick. He'd never do something so horrible. You know he's a good guy.

But, do you though? I mean, look at how he did Lila. Made her think they were all good until he dropped her like a bad habit.

Enough!

Realizing that she had remained quite for far too long she cleared her throat and crossed her arms, "It's just...if it was only a three hour tour, why did Mrs. Howell have so many clothes?" She thinned her eyes, gesturing one of her palms upwards, hoping that she sold it. Well, there wasn't really anything to sell. She had been pondering that for the better part of the afternoon. Before this new crap.

Arnold blinked before turning his attention back to his driving, "Gilligan's Island," He repeated before finally snorting in amusement.

At that, Helga began chuckling, a smile breaking out across her face, "Seriously, she packed for at least a few weeks. Who does that?"

"What made you think of this?"

"Eh, it was on TV Land last night while I was falling asleep," She shrugged.

Arnold peeked another sideways glance at her, still thinking that something was slightly off about her. However, he chose to let it go, figuring that whatever was tumbling around in her head wasn't important enough to dwell on. He had confidence that she'd tell him if it were super important. "So what have you got planned for us this weekend?" He asked instead, changing the subject.

His girlfriend cracked a smile, "Like I'm telling you," She said in a coy little voice, desperately trying to hide the fact that she was fresh out of ideas. Homeboy had been killing it on the date night front far better than she'd ever imagined. She'd created a monster. Truly.

Which led him to teasingly roll his eyes back at her, "Oh, so nothing then, huh?"

"Boy please..."

"You can't top re-arranging Lila's furniture and you know it," He gloated, still feeling proud of himself for setting up such an activity, "You might as well just tap out now and declare me supreme champion of wacky date nights."

"Not going to happen, Bro man," She shook her head in defiance, "I refuse to lose to my own challenge."

Saturday Night.

"Let's go Arnoldo. We don't want to be late," Helga shooed her boy out of the boarding house.

"Where are we going that has such strict time parameters?" Arnold questioned as he walked around her SUV and climbed in.

Helga shrugged, "Nowhere. I've just always wanted to say that," She said as she hopped in the driver's seat and turned the engine over.

The pair drove, in the midst of idle chatter all the way to Maple Street, particularly 420 Maple Street, leaving Arnold with a highly quirked brow. He wanted to ask, but he decided to wait it out and see what she had going on. She parked across the street from the familiar apartment, giddily skipping across the road as Arnold kept a firmly skeptical eye on her. Finally he asked, "What are we doing?"

"I figured it would be fun to spend an evening messing with Dale," She turned as they began walking up the stoop.

"Oh, you want me to break-in, we bone on his stove and then rearrange his furniture or something?"

Helga paused, the corners of her lips down-turning into a considering look, "I mean..."

"Seriously?"

"I'm kidding, bro man," She waved it off, "Nah, I thought it would be funny to just hang out with him and pretend we have information."

"Isn't that illegal?"

Helga shrugged, "Phoebe and Gerald did it with zero repercussions. Alright!" She shook herself out, hopping back and fourth on her feet as if she were preparing for a boxing round, "Look alive Football head. We've got yarns and they need a spinning," She instructed as she reached out, twinkled her fingers and pressed the doorbell. They waited for a few moments before the door opened, revealing...

Some random dude.

"Who are you?" Helga's face dropped.

"Who are you?" Random dude rebuttaled with sass.

"Dale doesn't live here anymore?"

"Who?"

Helga shook her head in annoyance, "Nevermind. Sorry we bothered you," She and Arnold then turned and galloped down the stairs. As the reached the sidewalk she turned to him, "Well that sucks. Where do you think he went?"

Siberia.

Agent Dale Cooper pulled his dog sled to a stop at the top of a cliff that over looked the small village Mikhailovka in Russia. With shivering hands he reached into the pocket of his giant bear fur parka jacket, grabbing his binoculars as he walked to the edge to take a peek. There didn't seem to be much going on, but he remained undeterred in his quest. Walking back to his sled, he tucked the spectacles back into his pocket and grabbed his trusty recorder. "Diane...jackpot. Mush!"

The dogs whisked him away.

Hillwood.

Arnold shrugged, "I don't know. Didn't Phoebe and Gerald tell him your parents were in Sacramento or something."

"Hmm, yeah," Helga thinned her eyes in consideration, nodding, "Maybe he went there."

"Well! My turn," Her boy announced, plucking her keys out of her back pocket and striding towards her SUV.

"Hey!" She briskly walked after him, "What do you mean your turn?"

"Your date fell through so now it's my turn."

Helga sneered while quirking a brow at his back, "Since when is that so?"

Arnold laughed as he opened up the driver's door, "I hereby decree a new amendment! Should a wacky date fall through, the planner automatically forfeits the rest of their night over to the attendee. There, now it is so," He smiled like a cheesy smart-ass before hopping into the vehicle, leaving Helga to roll her eyes as she walked around to the other side.

"You are such geek bait you know that?"

"I know."

A short drive later and he pulled them to the curb of the same music joint they had gone on their first outing together. The night that started it all. "You are a creature of habit you know that?"

"What?" He smirked, "We haven't been in awhile."

"We going to get high and scarf down pizza with the alley way hippies too?"

"We'll see were the night takes us."

"Oh lord..." Helga tossed her blue eyes, but smirked as she exited the vehicle. The pair walked through the pub doors, mildly surprised to see an open comedy night going on instead of a line-up of bands. While Helga was watching the very animated middle aged guy on the stage, Arnold leaned in, "Go grab us a table, I'm going to go get a couple drinks. What do you want?"

"You know what I like," She absently replied and moved off to find a seat amongst the surprisingly thick crowd in the very small establishment.

While she was locating that, Arnold moved to the bar, requesting a coke and a sprite from the bartender. While those were being fixed up and his debit card run, he twisted to look back at the stage to watching as the guy up there, wrap up his short set before a host announced somebody else. After her wacky date had fallen apart, and despite giving her a hard time about it, he had truly intended to come there and have a normal little date. They hadn't been on a regular one in a hot minute. However, he spotted an opportunity to raise the stakes a bit.

What? He couldn't help that perfect circumstance just kept falling in his lap. Who was he to deny the universe what it obviously truly wanted.

So, with a smirk, he turned back around to the bartender, "Hey where do you sign up for the stage?"

The guy went and grabbed a clipboard that was hanging behind the bar and tossed it down in front of him, "Right here."

"Nice..."

Helga found two seats just as Arnold returned carrying their beverages. "This guy is actually pretty funny..." She noted as they slid into their chairs.

"Yeah," He replied, having to fight the very real urge to just smile as widely as possible and then laugh. She had no idea. None! It was so perfect too! She was either going to commend him on his mad wacky date skills...or she was going to kill him. He could live with either. No pun intended.

As each person did their fifteen minute set, he suspense built up a little more in his body. It was almost too much to contain. He knew exactly how many people there were ahead, and when the last one finished he almost exploded he was anticipation.

The host walked back on stage, carrying the clipboard and leaned into the mic, "Let's give it up again for Mr. Ted Hayes," He announced and the crowd clapped. "Next up we have Ms. Helga Pataki."

The blonde girl spit coke as Arnold was nearly doubled over in laughter, it finally erupting out of him when they called her named. Wiping her mouth on a napkin she glared at him, "You troll..."

"What?" He played stupid between bouts of laughter, and wiping tears from his eyes.

"I can't go up there! I'm not prepared."

"What's stopping you? You're funny. Just wing it."

"Ugh..."

"Alright well if you're chicken then..."

"I'm not chicken."

"Didn't you call yourself the life of the party once?" He scratched his chin in faux thought, goating her.

It seemed to work because she straightened, narrowing her blue eyes at him, suddenly determined that he was not going to get the best of her in the fun department, "Watch. And. Learn." She laced her fingers together and pretended to crack her knuckles.

With a shot of adrenaline activated, she stood from her seat and waved at the host, making her way to the stage as Arnold desperately called, "I was just kidding! You really don't have to!" Trying to stop her from potentially doing something she really didn't want to do. He definitely didn't want her to bomb at it either. That wouldn't be any fun. It was too late however, because she gave the host the thumbs up and walked onto the stage.

"Hello...people of this tavern." She picked up the mic and slowly walked across the stage with a slight smile, "God, I see some you looking like...'geez, who the hell is this kid?'" A few people chuckled, "You are wrong. I'm technically an adult. I uh...had a birthday recently that how," The crowd began clapping a little, "Don't clap!" Helga laughed, "I mean, thank you, but what if I was just about to tell you how horrible it was?" Everybody laughed, "It was fine. Nothing interesting to report. Turned eighteen so...I can finally get that tattoo I've always wanted," She turned and began walking back across the stage as a guy in the back wooted, "That guy gets it. No, I've always wanted a tattoo. I'm not even sure what I want yet, but it's going to be awesome. I uh...I told my friend's mom that one time. I was over there for dinner or something and I mentioned that and she said, 'Those are permanent you know.' in her mom voice," Helga made a face of perplexity and the audience laughed, "I look at my friend...and then at her younger brother...you know what is also pretty permanent? Your two kids, Janice." The floor began laughing, which made Helga start laughing too, "I'm just saying...my tasteful patch of ink doesn't require food and water and isn't going to be trying to get me to look at retirement home brochures when I'm seventy." The crowd continued laughing, "Friggin' Janice...no she's a nice lady...who isn't actually named Janice. It's Claudia. That's not much better is it? 'Cause nothing says judgmental mom like the name Claudia...or Janice."

"I think I may have found my calling," Helga joked as they left the pub a few hours later.

Arnold chuckled, holding the door open for her as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, "You were easily the funniest person there tonight. All three rounds you decided to do, and I'm not just saying that because I like you," He'd created a monster. She at least was funny though, so the audience had had no qualms with her multiple rounds on the mic.

"Anywhere else you want to go?"

"Nah, I'm good."

Arnold shrugged before they climbed back into her SUV, and drove them back to the boarding house.

Monday.

Helga was midway through shoving crap into her locker that morning when Rhonda decided to creep up on her, all cheery and, predictably as if she wanted something. And as usual with princess, with the added agony of never knowing what on earth that something could be. Well, at least she was choosing to strike some place besides the bathroom. "Darling, I need your license," She drawled and she gracefully leaned against the row of lockers.

The blonde turned and gave her friend a narrowed eye stare, of the skeptical kind, before side eyeing around her, wondering what the heck was going on with such a peculiar request, "Are you the fashion police now?" She finally asked. Which was kind of a stupid question. Of course she was.

Rhonda boredly yawned, looking away from her inspection of her perfectly manicured red nails to glance down at Helga's feet, "I could write you a ticket for those shoes, but I'll let it slide."

Helga's eyes dropped to her 'didn't-feel-like-making-an-effort-that-morning' grey crocs, "Don't knock 'em to you try 'em, Princess."

"I'd rather die."

"Oh, okay. Cool," Helga fake frowned as she rapidly nodded. "Here lies Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd. Dead from casual-comfort shoe wear," She held her open palms out and spread them as if to mimic a sign.

Rhonda rolled her brown eyes and shoved off of the lockers, out stretching her open palm towards the smart-ass blonde, "Just hand it over, would you?"

Helga sighed and pulled her book bag around and opened up her scary pocket, of which she was sure she heard the tiny distant wail of organ music and the crack of thunder, "Why do you need it?"

"Um, Vegas," The dark haired fashionista replied as if she were suppose to know. Predictably all she got was a curious eyebrow raise, "I told you about Lila's graduation Vega's trip."

"Well, no duh, but a lot has changed since then...as you know," Helga said as she opened up her wallet and began fishing for her I.D.

Rhonda clasped her hand together and smiled, "I run this place so, she doesn't have a choice but to invite you and Arnold."

"Ah. Well, what could go wrong with that, right?" Helga said with an air of sarcasm as she held her license up for Rhonda to pluck out of her hand with a smart little smile in place. "Making fake ID's I presume?"

"I've got a guy."

"Broomhilda Von-Papagiorgio"

"What?"

"That's what I want my fake name to be. Don't disappoint me now."

Rhonda threw her one last, I-cant-even-with-you look before walking away.

Work.

"So..." Helga drawled as she slinked up to the prep table of the restaurant kitchen, hardly able to contain her excitement. She, Nikki and Teegan had been steadfastly planning away an after graduation party to wrap up high school. And Arnold would get to go, "What do you think about catching a plane to Virginia Tuesday after graduation?"

Arnold glanced up from the fingerling potatoes he was plating with a curious expression. He had no idea they had such big plans, "What's the occasion?"

"Um, gradation."

His face deadpanned, "Well, I know we've got that coming up."

Helga licked her lips and smirked, "One. Final. Party."

Hearing that made him start smirking. He'd wanted to go to a Helga & Co party since he first started Facebook snooping her photos, "A Helga party?"

"Yup. And you promised to sneak into my luggage last time so...I figure I can spare a carry on bag this time around," She coolly said, pretending to examine her nails as she propped against the table's edge.

"Of course I'm coming. You can't leave me here."

"Well no duh, but I couldn't exactly just show up and say pack your bags, we're leaving."

"Honestly if you did that, I probably wouldn't ask questions," He admitted, crossing his arms and looking off, "You know, because I'd probably just figure it was something with the family drug empire. No biggie," He winked with a kidding smirk jumping to his lips.

Helga rolled her eyes before offering up a half-hearted sigh, "'Cause I'm the pot princess..."

"Yes you are," He cooed, as if she were a puppy or a baby while reaching across and giving her arm a cute little pinch, catching her dangerous eyes before quickly pulling his limb away, "I know. I'm about to get strangled."

"And not in the fun way."

"Right," He nodded, "So, what's the theme?"

"Nineties," She smiled, "Think...Night at the Roxbury meets Clueless."

One week later. Thursday night.

Lila would admit, she'd been more than a little disappointed at the lack of action taken by Helga after she'd had Greg slip her his handwritten note. Surely that would have peeked her interest. Surely that would have set the cogs a turning in that head of hers. Surely she hadn't underestimated the girls natural insecurities.

Surely!

But, nope! Nothing. Absolutely nothing!

Outwardly noticeable anyway. It both frustrated, and intrigued her. Though, she tried not to be too antsy about it. Witnessing a massive unraveling of their relationship hadn't been the goal—a plus—but not the most important part. As long as they went down in flames, whether she was present or not, was all she really cared about.

And she found herself thinking about it rather predominately as she just happened to be driving by the boarding house on her way home that night, noticing Helga's tank parked across the street.

Because that certainly didn't blend in with a crowd.

While she thought she'd done enough to ensure destruction on it's own natural accord, she figured another push couldn't hurt. She pulled her car over on the curb, right in front of Helga's, and pulled out her phone to text Jordan.

'Call Arnold.' She instructed of the girl.

'Why? I thought we were done?'

'Do this and we are.' It was sort of the truth, but also a bit of a lie. She'd give it another nudge if she had to.

'What if he picks up?'

'Just hang up. That's not important.'

'Okay…fine.'

'You better do it, Jordan.'

'I am...'

Helga was stretched out in Arnold's bed, procrastinating going home for the night. It wasn't super late but she had a pile of things to get ready for over the next few days. With graduation being two days away and then she and Arnold flying out to Virginia for one final, epic graduation party with her homies, she had much to do. Her boy had wandered off to the shower, something that she'd stopped partaking in when she'd decided that it probably seemed super suspicious that she always came home on the weekends with wet hair.

At least maybe to Olga. She knew that her sister had to be well aware that she and her boyfriend—whom she spent practically every waking moment with —were doing what young people do best. And a lot. There was no way she was that naive. However, she wasn't keen to bring attention to it and rock the boat.

It was while she were lackadaisically flipping through the cable channels, that she heard the urgent vibrating pulse of one of their phones on his night stand. With a sigh, and pushed herself up and over enough to take a peek at which black Iphone it was. It was his, and while normally she wouldn't have cared one way or another, the name on the caller I.D. struck her as curious. Jordan Coleman. She vaguely knew of the girl, having never actually personally met her, and mostly only seen her coming from the few classes that she shared with Arnold.

It was curious that she'd be calling, considering the fact that, school was pretty much donezo.

What was it that note said? Check his messages? Hmm. That nasty little voice cut through again. She'd been able to pretty successfully shove it down, but there it was again.

Don't listen to her. She's up to no good, Her better half quickly butted in.

The call flipped over to voicemail, but no message was left. Also curious, she thought.

Very curious. You know now would be a great time to check those messages huh? Remember those?

Um, no! You can't violate his privacy like that. She probably butt-dialed him.

Helga rolled her eyes and flopped back down in the bed, agreeing with reason and refusing to give into a baseless insecurity. Yet, no matter how much she tried to concentrate on some animal planet show on TV about a rat and a dog being best friends, her eyes kept creeping back towards the night stand, and to his phone in particular. Why had she been calling him?

Butt dialing. I told you.

Who butt dials in the age of smart phones? Check his phone. He's been blowing up another chick during class. Sorry. I would want somebody to tell me. She heard the warning of the locker note echo around her mind. Check his messages and prove me wrong. Go ahead.

Don't give into that!

Change my mind.

Helga's hand lashed out and grabbed the phone and slid it off, pulling herself up to lean back against the headboard, suddenly feeling hot as her heart beat began to pick up. She was violating some serious trust parameters. But all she had to do was...prove herself wrong to shut up that stupid insecure feeling she had. That's all. Arnold would never know and she'd go about her life as if it never happened.

But doing so would be admitting that she didn't trust him! Yet, she wasn't sure that she didn't. He'd never done anything to warrant such a serious question.

Are you kidding me? Look at the way he did Lila. Strung that poor girl along while you two were practically drowning in sexual tension. What's stopping him from doing that very same thing to you?

He's Arnold, that's what.

Exactly. Arnold did that to another girl. He's not the golden boy everybody thinks he is. He even said so himself.

Her eyes fluttered once to the bedroom door, before cutting back down to his phone in her hands. Taking a deep breath, she slid right with her thumb, unlocking the home screen before selecting his messages. The first people were to be expected. Herself, Gerald, Sid, Stinky, a group chat of all the guys, "See...this is stupid. I'm an insecure jerk face..." She muttered...but just a bit too soon.

The very next name was Jordan Coleman. That flushed heat washed over her, running up her neck and over her head, causing her to swallow hard. She held her breath and clicked on it.

Wow...that's even worse than I imagined...

It was terrible. Absolutely terrible. And he'd sent her a picture of his junk too!

She kept scrolling...

'We're going off to the same school. We could have some fun this fall. ;)'

God did he loved his stupid little winky faces. The sickness was rising.

'lol. With your girlfriend and all?'

'Nah. We're not serious or anything.'

'How's that?'

'I mean. She's fun and all but, it was never going to go anywhere after graduation. She's a little too much of a party girl.'

Party girl?! She was confused. Did he really think that? You're not a party girl…you're the life of the party. HUGE difference! She kept on scrolling...even though she didn't want to.

'Will you just break up with her already? I want you SO bad.'

'I am. I just haven't had a good opportunity yet. Be patient. I've got to go about this delicately. Trust me...I'm as hard as a rock just thinking about you right now.'

'You're a tease'

Helga felt her eyes burn as she continued to scroll through the volumes of texts, seeing the progression of it all. Innocent talking, to flirting, to sexting to...planning out what they were going to do after graduation. It was insane! How he could say the things that he was saying to this girl and then act completely normal around her. Or how he could even be this...this person that he apparently was! She'd decided that she'd seen enough though. She exited out of everything and tossed the phone back onto the nightstand, hopping out of bed, and hurriedly throwing on her clothes.

Okay, whoa...you need to confront him about this.

Screw that. She mentally sneered before tearing from the room, not even caring if his grandparents saw her leave. Which they didn't. Having already taken themselves upstairs for the night.

Seriously! This doesn't seem like him at all!

That's the point of hiding it, dumb dumb.

She was about halfway across the street, walking towards her vehicle when she heard the boarding house door creak open behind her, "Helga!" She heard Arnold call from behind her.

Without even stopping she replied, "I'm going home."

The boy just stood there, dumbfounded, brow bunching in confusion as he watched her continued trekking, "Something wrong?" He asked, taking a few concerned steps down the stoop. She wasn't one to just up and leave, much less without telling him goodbye and in about ten different ways.

Almost across the street, Helga stopped, gritting her teeth, but halfway turning back around to look at his dumb face, doubting that he would make out the leaking emotion in her eyes in the pale street lights, "Olga called. Stuff going on with my parents," She lied, thankful her voice never cracked, "I'll talk to you later." She turned and climbed into her SUV as fast as she could.

Arnold nodded, "Oh...okay then. I guess."

He watched her go, seeing her taillights fade out down the street as he ran a hand through his still damp hair, feeling super unsettled by the entire thing. She was off. Something was off. But he gave her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it was something wacky with her parents.

Helga was surprised at how stoic and zombie like she remained the entire short drive home, those messages on a freakin' prime time reel in her mind. It was like the longest movie credits ever. Seriously, how do they need that many people to make that bad of a movie? But when she pulled into the driveway and parked, she felt everything come bum rushing to the surface. "No...no, no..." She told herself, sitting back in the seat and looking up to fight back the tears. Inhaling deeply she continued, "Don't...don't you cry over him. Don't you do it," Her voice finally broke a little and she felt her throat get that awful tightening. "...Don't—ah...Merlin's beard..." She choked, effectively losing the battle with herself.

She broke down and ugly face cried. Thank the heaven's for water proof mascara. And tinted windows. And night time.

What a sucky situation.

Hillwood had been such a colossal mistake. She should have fought her sister harder about staying with her friends. It had been stupid to come there. It had been stupid to get involved with him. And most assuredly, it had been stupid to think that he felt about her the way she felt about him. He had been like playing with fire. She would've been better off just having stayed put in Virginia with Jaime. That was simple. Without any stupid feelings to have to worry about being crushed like a car in a junkyard.

And on that day, her heart shrunk three sizes smaller and turned as black as coal. The only thing left was for her and Zeus to find a cave, and a small town with a Hallmark channel love for Christmas to terrorize. Yes...she was the Grinch now.

First on the list: Solve world hunger...tell no one.

All because of a boy. Whom she loved.

More ugly cry facing.

After awhile she finally chilled out enough that she thought she could drag herself into the house without causing a scene. And drag she did, only seeing Owen sitting on the couch, but hearing Olga off in another room, seemingly on the phone with a friend.

"Hey..." She tossed him a meek greeting, still sniffing back the fluid in her face. An action that sent Owen's eyebrow perking as he watched her try to quickly cut off to the hallway to her bedroom.

"Why do you look like you've been crying?" He procured.

Helga stopped, putting forth a hopefully convincing expression of absurdity, "I haven't...I...just...have allergies. All the allergies. So many allergies..." She ducked out, continuing her quest to her room.

"Evil does tend to be allergic to pure goodness. Did you drive past the chic-fil-a on the way home?"

She hadn't around to hear the snarky comment he had in reply. She made a bee-line straight to her room, shutting and locking the door behind her before digging her phone out of her pocket and flopping face-first onto her bed. Once rolled onto her back, she sent Teegan and Nikki a text in her group chat about how she needed to talk to them ASAP. While she had wanted to text Phoebe, the girl was way too close to the situation and would most definitely try to give him the benefit of the doubt. There was none to give. Texts were texts.

She didn't want to be reasonable, she wanted to be mad! Which meant she needed to talk to the people that didn't know Arnold.

Barely a minute went by before Teegan showed up on her caller ID. "Hey," She answered lamely and making sure she sounded as pathetic as possible.

"What's going on? Did your mum and dad show back up?"

"No. Honestly I wish at this point," Helga sighed, resting her forearm over the top of her head.

"Well, if it's about that other thing, Grandmother said to just dab a little holy water on a—"

"—Arnold's cheating on me..."

"Wut?"

"Yup," Helga sniffed, feeling the stupid tears begin to build again, "He's been texting this other girl like...non-stop."

"N-oo?"

"I just can't believe he would do something like this."

"Yeah. Isn't he suppose to be the like...the perfect guy or something?"

"Yes!" Helga squeaked, removing the arm from her face and jutting it the air with an open palm, "Immune to all that sort of shenanigans! He doesn't do stuff like this. Other guys do!"

"Are you sure though? That he really was?"

"They were sexting! He sent her a dick pic!"

"That knob headed muppet..." Teegan muttered, "What did he try to say about it?"

"Ah...well...he doesn't know that I know yet."

"Uhhh..."

"So...somebody slipped a note in my locker last week telling me to check his phone. And then tonight this girl started calling him while he was in the shower and...I don't know...curiosity got the best of me and I went through his messages."

"I would have bitten his head right off. I can't believe you didn't confront him. Or given him a swift kick in the old bollocks."

"I'm in shock! That's why..." Helga defended, before sighing sadly, "...I mean...I loved him," She murmured, feeling her heart constrict painfully again, wondering what the rent on a smallish cave would be. Like a one bedroom studio cave.

"The bloody 'L' word. Did you...tell him that?"

"No," She replied with a gust of relief in her voice, "Glad I didn't. Apparently...he wasn't worth it."

Teegan remained quiet on the other end for a few moments, seemingly in thought before finally exhaling, "Screw it. I'm sending you a plane ticket."

"Huh? I'm already flying back after gradua—"

"—You don't have to prance across a stage to graduate. You're coming home now."

"Hey, I did my time. At the very least I need my recognition," Helga countered a little rebelliously, "I'll walk, but I'm moving my flight to that afternoon."

"If you insist but...he'll be there, you know. You'll have to confront the twat then."

Helga sighed, knowing that there was no way around it, but still clinging to hope that there would be, "I know. I could probably just keep blowing him off saying it's because of my parents...and then just...ghost him."

"Savage."

Helga heard a beep on her phone and pulled it away to see her other friend trying to buzz in, "Hey, Nikki is calling, let me flip over."

"You got it."

"And Teegan...do not tell your brother about any of this. Please."

Her friend laughed, "Alright, well I'll just keep doing what I've been doing then."

Next morning.

Helga moped into the kitchen the following morning, having tossed and turned all night long, in the middle of unwanted, silent cry fits. Her eyeballs felt like they were going to fall out of her head. She was happy to see Olga already up, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, and thankfully, no Owen to be found for that moment.

She needed to talk to her sister, and she wasn't really feeling up to trading zingers with Owen. Something that would definitely raise the alarm that something was seriously wrong, and she wasn't feeling much like sharing the entirety of her business with the two of them.

One was enough.

"Hey, you got a minute?" She asked after pouring herself some orange juice from the fridge after trading 'good mornings'

"I sure do," Olga cheerily replied, putting down her old lady cross word puzzle to look back at her little sister.

Helga moved to the opposite chair, taking a few sips from her glass, mildly grimacing at the amount of pulp in it. Seriously? What was it with wanting more pulp the older you got? It was insane! What was wrong with just juice?

"I'm…going to move back to Virginia after graduation."

Olga's blue eyes widened, looking completely caught of guard by the news. Unsurprising. It was completely out nowhere. "Why? I thought you were happy here?"

"I was—am, but…" She sighed, "I liked living there and…I don't know…I just want to go back."

Her sister still seemed puzzled by the whole thing, her eyebrows pulled tightly together as she was really having to think it through. Truthfully, Olga had enjoyed Helga living with them. As bizarre as the entire situation with their parents was, she couldn't deny the fact that it had done wonders for her and Helga's relationship. Plus, she'd actually come to enjoy having somebody besides her nutty husband to look after. "I'm trying to understand why it matters at this point. What about school?"

"I've applied to a few colleges there. I'll hear back from them soon…" She lied. She had absolutely no plan that hadn't involved Arnold at that point. That's what she got for being so sure of him. No back-up plan.

If she had to take a year off, she had to take a year off. She could find things to do until she got her self together. Maybe she'd look into that studio cave. Maybe she'd buy a pair of aviators and a jacket with a terrible fake fur collar, befriend a young boy wanting to be a journalist, then go on a 311 cruise and try to become Nick Hexum's groupie.

Or...maybe she'd go traveling with Jaime.

"What about Arnold?" Olga finally just asked the obvious.

"He uh..." Helga swallowed, partly to prevent from crying again and partly to buy herself a moment to figure out what to say, "He understands," Was all she ended up saying. And lamely at that.

Olga didn't buy it. Her newly acquired maternal instinct didn't buy it either. Something was up, and if Helga was having some sort of internal problem, that she was feeling the need to lie about, she was darn sure she was going to parent the day lights out of her. So in a rare, impolite moment, she sat back in her chair and said, "I don't believe you."

Helga's surprised eyes lifted from where she'd been staring at her glass of pure pulp, giving her sister a puzzled expression, "Um..."

"You've lived with me long enough that I know when you're lying to me."

"Obviously not because I hated the oatmeal you made me almost every morning, even though I said I loved it," Helga countered with a little head pop.

Olga crossed her arms, casting her an unamused look, "I know you didn't like it, but it's high in fiber and very filling."

"Fiber? You were worried about my fiber intake? Why exactly did you think I needed more fiber?"

"Everyone needs plenty of fiber. It keeps you regular."

"I am regular."

"Thanks to the fiber."

"Whoever said I wasn't?"

"Answer my question. What about Arnold?"

"Who are you?" The younger blonde narrowed her eyes at her sister, wondering where this sudden boldness in her had come from. Olga had always had this neediness to know about everything in her life, mostly because they'd never spent much time together, but this...this was something entirely different. She was actually demanding and explanation. In a mom voice too!

Olga sighed, "Please?"

Helga looked off, still feeling mightily dejected over the fact that her sister wasn't suppose to be this...motherly and...demanding of answers. What happened to the good ole days where she just...left it alone after being told to buzz off at least twice...and kept all of her fiber to herself? She was never this confrontational...or witty with her banter either. That was usually reserved for her husband. Though, Helga did suppose that he'd rubbed off on her over the years. She ran her tongue across the inside of her cheek, before brushing it across the outside of her teeth, looking back at her sister and shrugging as she looked down at the table again, "We broke up," She finally admitted, "And before you ask, no I don't want to talk about it."

Gradation Day.

Arnold hadn't seen Helga in two straight days, and he felt like he was going nuts. Not since she had mysteriously bolted from his house that night claiming that something was going on with her parents. He'd tried to call her on multiple occasions. Only to get a text back from her saying that she was super busy and would chat later. It was peculiar to him that the 'later' never came, and if he were being honest, it felt like she was avoiding him. That was crazy though. There wasn't any reason for her to be avoiding him. There wasn't anything that he had done to make her mad. Not only that, she wasn't the type that would just...up and give somebody the cold shoulder over something major much less something small. He'd never made her mad about something before. Not really anyway.

Heck, they had yet to even have a hardcore argument over something.

He was confused. He was aggravated. He had, had to stop himself from just showing up at her house to demand that she tell him what the heck was going on. Obviously he didn't because he respected her enough not to. But he had wanted to! So bad! And...maybe he had driven halfway there before turning back around. She needed her space—He guessed—but he hoped that she would come around and tell him what was going on. Sooner than later.

So there he stood, outside of the auditorium, dressed in his graduation robe, hoping that he could catch her coming in before they needed to be seated in order to maybe get some sort of explanation. To his great disappointment, he couldn't ever find her. He was certain that she would be there though.

He took his assigned seat, keeping an eagle like watch down in front of him where he thought the 'P' section would be as the rest of his classmates slowly filed in for the ceremony.

He perked up when he finally saw her, one of the very last ones to take their seats. He hoped that she'd look back to try to find him, but she never did. Something that was as surprising as it was hurtful. She appeared to have absolutely zero care that he was even there, which made him almost borderlined panicked with concern and worry.

Something was awry.

Something was seriously wrong.

Before he could contemplate it further, the ceremony got underway, and he was forced to sit back in his chair and attempt to get through this thing. He had hoped that he'd be able to tune in for the majority of it. The speeches, the valedictorian, the highlight reels with the cheesy song about growing up, but he just couldn't take his mind of Helga.

Or off of the fact that nearly an hour had ticked by and she hadn't turned around once to take a peek back at him. How so unlike her that was.

He felt a bit of relief when they started the actual walking of the graduating body. The naming off of names in alphabetical order. Row by row. His eyes were glued to her when her name was rattled off and she strided across the stage and took the fake paper representing their diploma. She seemed indifferent, barely offering a smile to the lady handing her the rolled up parchment, and once again, eyes never bothering to cut back to the audience. Or in search of him.

And then she re-took her seat.

Row, after row of his classmates went, until it was his time to go. He tried to make eye contact with her while he was waiting his turn to walk, but she never would look at him.

"Arnold Phillip Shortman!" His name was announced, prompting him to strut across, offer a quick smile, and a wave before retrieving the rolled up paper and walking back up to his seat. His high school career effectively done.

His love life however...that seemed to be another story all of a sudden.

And hopefully not done with.

It seemed like eternity he waited, but the whole graduation ordeal finally came to an end. A lot of his peers seemed content with just standing around and chatting with one another, but he watched Helga make a bee-line for the nearest exit. Now he knew something was definitely wrong.

He took his cap off and began shoving through his fellow classmates in order to go after her. She seemed to be booking it too. Like she had some place to be or something. "Helga," He calmly called after her, doubting she even heard him as he saw her walk out into the parking lot.

"Helga!" He repeated, only this time much louder.

The blonde headed girl halted, shifting her bottom jaw in a circular motion, annoyed like as she took a deep breath while rolling her eyes, "What?" She rounded on him, glaring him down. So much for ghosting him.

He just had to be a donkey's butt.

Arnold stopped dead in his tracks, completely caught of guard by her hostile reaction at the sheer sight of him. He'd never been more confused in his life. "Why are you acting like this? What's going on with you?" He tried the obvious questions. He'd like at least some explanation.

Over by another exit area, neither one saw Lila having slunk out of the auditorium, watching with callous interest. Christmas had come early.

Helga's brow furrowed as her eyes darkened considerably at him, "Really?" She spat back incredulously, "You're going to act like you have no idea?"

The blonde boy's eyes widened as he shifted his head to the side a bit, "Yes?"

Unbelievable.

Helga rolled her eyes again, so done with him and the whole situation. Also she didn't feel like crying...like ever, but especially in front of him, and…well, over him too. Again. And that was where she was headed because...that boy was suppose to be the boy. Now he was just making it worse by playing dumb, and she'd imagined he'd adopted the same strategy with Lila too, "No matter. I think your texts to Jordan say everything, you...you muppet," She barked back, borrowing her friend's insult, before turning and continuing to stalk away from him.

She had a plane to catch anyway, and hopefully Owen and Olga would make haste to the car.

"Text to—wait did you just call me a muppet?" He called back.

"Ye-up!" She replied, continuing her march away.

"Text to Jordan?" He said again quietly, hurriedly digging out his phone from his jean pocket underneath his robes. As quickly as he could, he pulled up his messages, clicked on an old thread with Jordan Coleman's name on it and...

"Oh...oh my God..." His green eyes almost popped out of his head. He blazed through text after text that he didn't write in complete horror. "Ah..." He reached up, frantically running a hand through his hair, "Helga!" He started walking after her again.

"Get lost, Arnold!"

"I don't know what this is! I didn't write these!"

Hearing that made her bust out a single snort of a laugh, "You didn't write text messages in your own phone. That's a good one. Goodbye!"

"Hel..." He didn't even finish her name, coming to a complete stop in the middle of the parking lot. How could he even argue this? Who would do such a thing to him? How had they even gotten them on his phone?! How had she even come to have seen those texts? He couldn't even finish reading through them. It was too disgusting. Full of things he'd never say to anyone besides the girl currently hating his guts.

Whoever had done this was good. It wasn't him, but they'd figured out exactly how he talked, how he texted...even down to his favorite use of emojis. They had even gone through his private photos to find a picture! Which left him feeling beyond violated. For him and Helga.

And on top of it all, how had it remained hidden from him?

He carded his hand through his hair one more time before turning and looking back towards the auditorium. He could go after Helga all he wanted, but he hadn't a leg to stand on, and there was no way in the world she would believe him. With all that in mind, he thought his best bet was to go attempt to find Jordan and get to the bottom of everything pronto. While harshly clutching his phone, he went storming back through the door he'd blown out of, eyes looking every which a way for her, but not successfully locating her person.

He did, however, spot one other person that could potentially help him. Rhonda. He began marching across the auditorium to where the raven haired socialite was standing with a group of girls, chatting and laughing dramatically as one did when they were super wealthy.

She caught his stormy eyes as he walked up, ceasing her chortling right before he tugged her away from her minions, "I need your help."

Rhonda gracefully stepped away with the frantic boy, quirking one of her immaculate brows as she looked him over, "Whatever for, darling?"

Arnold inhaled, looking around a bit, "Jordan Coleman set me up..." He said, and handed his phone to her, "Read the thread," He instructed. Giving him one last curious look, his classmate began scrolling through text messages, eyebrows creeping slowly up her forehead, "I don't know why or how she could do this. I don't even know her that well."

"This is...impressively elaborate," Rhonda admitted, still browsing, but all the while, wondering what it had to do with anything. Then she got a little bored, and intrigued after seeing the dick pic, and next thing she knew she was scrolling through his photos, "Look at you guys and your freaky deeky pic collection, Arnold. God, I'm so proud of you two," She gushed, referring to his and Helga's very private photos. "Ohh..." She then held the phone sideways and quirked a brow, "I wouldn't mind trying that one time..."

"Are you going through my photos!?

"Sorry!" Rhonda righted the phone, a little flushed, hardly embarrassed but feeling bad about getting off track, "But, indeed darling, if you didn't write those text than she did a mesmerizing hit job," She agreed, looking off as she began gesturing casually with the hand that held the phone, "I'd give it an A plus, but what does that have—"

"—Helga read them." At that, Rhonda's eyes darted back over to his face, "I don't know when but...she...she stopped talking to me a few days ago and then she left me in the parking lot just now," He finally shook his head, "The point is...I need to find Jordan. You seem to always know where to find everybody."

"So, I doubt she acted alone," Rhonda handed his phone back to him, already beginning to speculate who Jordan had been in cahoots with. She hadn't anybody in mind, but these things were rarely a solo job. "I'll find her though, and get to the bottom of this."

Arnold lunged forward and wrapped the girl into a tight bear hug, "Thank you, Rhonda!"

"Alright...okay, sweetie this robe is Versace," Rhonda said, prying herself out of the grasp of her enthused classmate, brushing her gown off.

The tall blonde boy drew back, giving his friend a bewildered look, "You had a special robe made for this?"

Rhonda rolled her eyes, truly amused at his continued obviousness over her normal doings, "Darling...it's me," She shook her head before spinning around and returning to her group of girls, pulling Nadine and Sheena to the side, "Okay ladies," She announced privately, whipping out her phone, "I'm issuing a level three APB for Jordan Coleman. Consider her cunning but fabulous. Only because I'd give her usual wardrobe a B minus. Find me by the podium stage for the next forty-five minutes or my manor after that."

While that was happening, Arnold turned his attention to trying to find Gerald, and maybe Phoebe. If anybody might be able to get a hold of Helga and make her listen to him, it would be her. He turned and started heading off towards the area where he'd saw the Johannsen family seated before the ceremony had begun.

In his tunnel vision of a march, next thing he saw was his grandparents step in front of him. "Hey there, Shortman!"

Arnold slammed on the brakes, a little irritated, and desperate but trying not to let them see it, "Hey grandpa...grandma..." He greeted, subtly looking around them, trying to spot any of Gerald's family.

"What's the matter Kimba?" His grandmother suddenly asked, his attempt to be cool clearly not working on her, "You look confused and...dismayed."

"I recognize that look," Phil interjected, "I had that same face when I graduated and realized I was a man now..." He then narrowed his eyes and began rubbing his chin in conflicted thought, "Or was that when they discontinued Butterfinger BB's...?"

Arnold shook his head, not having time to deal with his grandparents at that moment, "I've got to go find Gerald. I'll see you guys at home, okay?" He waved them goodbye and rushed past them, having just spotted Timberly face deep in her cell phone.

"Timberly!" Arnold called as he jogged towards the younger girl, "Have you seen Gerald?"

The girl glanced up from her phone long enough to give him a bored stare, "Your boyfriend is with his girlfriend."

"Which is where, exactly?"

She shrugged, "I don't know...I think taking some pictures in the parking lot or something."

"Thanks!"

Arnold sprinted past her, and again towards the parking lot that he'd just come from. Jeez Louise, he felt like he was literally running in circles. He burst out the double doors like Drew Carey in the opening credits of his aptly named 90's show. Once outside, he quickly spotted Gerald and Phoebe standing over by a blooming tree, her and his parents busily snapping a few photos on their phones of them.

Gerald and Phoebe, were the couple that took the most couple-y damn pictures on the planet. Always the same pose too. They had it down to a mathematical equation at that point. Unlike he and Helga, who were always getting caught in some awkward pose or expression, which generally made one or both of them look intoxicated.

The frantic blonde boy ran up behind their parents, perching his hands on his hips in a impatient type of a pacing pose, catching both of there eyes and doing the 'come here' dramatic head side jab thing.

"We got enough pictures yet?" Gerald asked through a wide smile.

"One more..." Mrs. Heyerdahl replied right as she tapped her photo button a couple more times, "Got it!" She smiled brightly at her phone before noticing the impatient boys presence, "Oh hello, Arnold."

"Hey Mrs. Heyerdahl. How are you?" Arnold replied as he weaved through the adults to his friends, coming to stand in front of Phoebe.

"I'm well. Congratulations!"

"Thanks!" He smiled at her before turning to her only daughter and quickly asking, "Have you talked to Helga?"

The small girl frowned up at her friend and proceeded to shake her head, "No, I haven't. Why?"

"Something happened. Something bad," Arnold stressed, already digging his phone out for the millionth time that afternoon.

Gerald sighed and slightly rolled is eyes, "You run over her again?"

"No..." His best friend distractedly replied as he opened up his messages.

"Did you get a gym membership with her?"

"What?" Phoebe looked up at her boyfriend.

Arnold rolled his eyes, not having time for this, "No...this is worse."

"I don't know man, does it get much worse than that? Those contracts are unbreakable." At that, Phoebe jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

Their friend sighed, holding out his phone for the two of them to see. "Read the thread. Jordan sabotaged me, and Helga read it. However, I don't know what would have spurred her to go through my messages," Phoebe took the phone from him and angled it so that Gerald could read along with her. "And worse... she believed it."

"Oh my goodness..." Phoebe murmured, seeing exactly what he meant by sabotage. This person knew how to play Helga's insecurity like a piano. Assuming Arnold was a raging pile of dog turds, of course. Which was preposterous. He wouldn't be showing them it all if he were guilty.

Gerald on the other hand, had absolutely zero reaction to what he was reading. That was until..."Whoa! Oh come on—Baby shield your eyes!" He hurriedly slapped his hand over the screen, to the unamused eye roll of his girlfriend, "Bro is that your junk?"

Arnold exhaled, glaring at his friend, "It's not import—"

"—man, why you got pictures of your junk on your phone?"

"Like I said...it's not important."

"Why you got pictures of your junk at all?!" His friend merely stared at him, unblinking. Gerald finally looked off, shaking his head before pointing his index back at the boy, "Y'all some freaks. You deserve each other," He said, referring to him and Helga.

"We do deserve each other," Arnold propped one hand on his hip before gesturing back to the phone still in Phoebe's palm, with his other, "And somebody is trying to...un-deserve us."

Phoebe thinned his eyes up at him, biting her bottom lip and softly shaking her head, "That's...not at all how you reverse that but, it doesn't really matter right now," She handed the phone back to him, "Have you tried finding Jordan?"

"Yep, and now I've got Rhonda looking for her."

At that, she reached into her dress pocket underneath her robe and retrieved her phone, "I see that Rhonda's issued an all points bulletin text," She noted, having not seen it earlier because of it being on silent. "I'll call her," She scrolled into her contacts and pressed the phone icon under Helga. Her phone was to her ear for maybe a second before she disappointingly pulled it away and said, "Straight to her voicemail."

There were three stages to one of Rhonda's school all points bulletins. Stage one, the whole school got the text...including faculty. Stage two, only her and her three hundred closet friends received it. And stage three played it closest to the chest. Only the P.S. 118 crew got that text. A stage three was especially useful if she were trying to keep something tightly under wraps.

She considered it to be one of those situations.

Which lead to poor Jordan being completely obviously that there was a target on her back, and Stinky Peterson stumbling onto his chance to actually apprehend somebody for once in his life. That was the intersection they two found themselves in. Jordan had just finished drying her hands in the bathroom, slipping back out into the hallway, just as the tall, lanky boy wearing a bolo tie was walking by—headed to the bathroom himself—while reading the newly issued message on his phone. His eyes caught the movement of her exiting the bathroom out of the top corner of his eyes, warranting his glance upward. He stopped, almost jumping is was so surprised to see the girl in question walking out right in front of her.

"Ms. Jordan?" He asked, sliding his phone into his back pocket.

Jordan stopped, turning to face the boy, "Um, yeah. Stinky right?"

"That's me. Rhonda Lloyd is looking for you right now."

The girls eyes widened, "Oh. For what?"

Stinky shrugged, "Not sure. But she considers you cunning and fabulous."

"I uh...not really sure I understand."

"Well, regardless, I need you to come with me."

Jordan shifted on her feet, giving him a stress laugh, "Oh no. I'll have to give her a rain check. I'm suppose to be—hey, put me down!" She shouted as the tall boy quickly leaned down and scooped her up, throwing her over his right shoulder. "Right now!"

"My upmost apologies, but as I said, Ms. Rhonda needs to speak to you."

And he walked, hauling the bewildered girl back down the hallway and back towards the auditorium. Right as he entered through the double doors, he ran right into Sid, Harold and Brainy, who had collectively assembled their own search party for J. Coleman. "Aww! You got her already," Harold whined in disappointment.

"Sure did!" Stinky smiled brightly, giving Jordan's leg a pat with his free hand.

"Did she refuse to come quietly?" Sid asked, kind of thinking the whole thing looked ridiculous.

"I...oph...politely declined..." Jordan answered.

"Got to do what you got to do, am I right?" Sid shrugged before elbowing Brainy in the arm.

All four boys headed across the auditorium where they saw Rhonda and Curly standing, appearing as if they were having a casual conversation. Walking up on them, Stinky shifted Jordan off of his shoulder, "Alley-oop. Here you go Rhonda." Princess could only temporarily stare, surprised but very approving of her fellow classmates unconventional methods.

"Than—Thank you for putting me down. Now, I really have to go," Jordan insisted.

"Not so fast, darling," Rhonda held up her hand.

"Please?" Jordan sighed, eyes pleading in desperation.

Rhonda was a little confused by that, and she made show of that by the way her lips pursed, "You had to have known that this would get back to me. But why? How did you even pull it off?"

"Look..." Jordan began, voice beginning to sound very strained, "I did everything she wanted, and everything she asked me to. Please don't destroy my scholarship of it."

Now Rhonda was extremely confused, "Scholarship? Tell me who was in on this."

"Lila." The fashion diva inhaled, rolling her jaw once in a very irritated manner, having remembered a long ago conversation where Lila had fought her about trying to break Helga and Arnold up. She'd been so distracted by the hot texts Thad was sending her that morning, that she'd hardly paid attention other than to say, 'absolutely not'. Jordan was a bit baffled by Rhonda's reaction to it as well. It was almost like...she didn't know it was happening. The whole time, she'd assumed that Rhonda had been well aware of it. Considering that she had the power to pull the strings to resend her sought after scholarship. "She...she made it seem as if you'd okayed it...that you would..." Jordan trailed off.

While that was going on, Eugene, Patty, Sheena and Nadine walked up to where Sid, Stinky, Harold and Brainy were standing off. "What's going on?" Patty asked of Harold in a quiet voice.

The large boy leaned to her, "I think Lila might have gone behind Rhonda's back..." He whispered.

"Oh, snap..."

"I never okayed anything with Lila..." Rhonda replied in a clipped tone before huffing, "Tell me exactly what she did." She already knew, obviously, but she wanted the girl to tell her exactly how it went down.

"She started borrowing my phone, and using it to fabricate texts to his phone. I think he she was stealing his phone during his weight-lifting class or something," Jordan sighed, running a hand through her hair, "The last thing she had me do was call his phone a few days ago."

"They were off limits. I told her that they were off limits..." Rhonda shook her head in an annoyed tone, "And she did it anyway."

"Okay, would somebody please explain to me what's going on here?" Sid finally spoke up. Everybody looked at him as he smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Lila used Jordan to frame Arnold to break he and Helga up," Rhonda explained in an irritable tone. She wasn't aggravated with him, by an stretch, she was un-imaginably aggravated with Lila Sawyer. Nobody went behind Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd's back and got away with it. Nobody. "Now Helga's AWOL, Arnold's trying to find her and...chicka here," She pointed to Jordan.

"Pardon me for saying this but...I'm about tired of this new Lila we've had to live with," Stinky pipped up, and everybody around them began murmuring their shy agreements.

"Stinky's right. She's gotten out of control," Harold agreed.

"She's going to be dealt with," Rhonda assured, going to turn back to Jordan but getting stopped by...

"That's all fine and dandy, but I reckon all of us have a little something we'd like to tell her. We've been looking the other way for a few years now but now she's crossed a line. Arnold and Helga didn't do anything to her," Stinky pointed out.

"What do propose we do then?"

"An intervention," Sid said, "P.S. one-eighteen style."

Rhonda inhaled, looking from the gang, to Jordan, and then back at her boyfriend, Curly before crossing her arms and cocking her hip, "Let's do it."

A/N: What are they going to do to Lila? Will Arnold catch Helga before she gets on the plane? Will Gerald ever get the image of Arnold's junk out of his mind. Will Dale befriend the indigenous people of Siberia? Will they ever re-release butterfinger BB's? Stay tuned!