Notice: This fan fiction takes place sometime between the FTi incident and now. Information may be semi-AU or not fit completely, based on my preferences or an easier "go-with-the-flow" storyline. With that being said, I still always aim to make my stories as canon as possible, or the very least to my standards. Enjoy!
"Now, now - CLASS…"
As the school room filled with excitable chatter, Mr. Simmons tried to maintain his importance throughout it all - the large swarms of elementary school children leaning forward in their desks, as he discussed the upcoming Valentine's Day dance meant to wrap up their very last year at P.S. 118, knowing they would be all too excited, battling the anxious, yet strangely prideful fluttering in his stomach upon the sentimental realization that this would be his very last year teaching everyone.
"Class, everyone! Now I know we're very excited for tonight's dance, but let's not forget the importance of slowing down to smell the roses, or oh, say - the snowflakes, since it's currently a little blustery outside," There was a light chuckle, until… "OH, who am I kidding? Class is dismissed early, kids! Everyone have a wonderful evening, and don't forget to pick up your valentine's on the way out. Wouldn't want to forget those…"
"Yeah, yeah…ya-de-ya-de. Valentine's…sure, right. Looking into MY box is like gazing into the bottom of an empty PRINGLES can." There was nearly always an almost inaudible muttering at the end of each day, Arnold had noticed, that was Helga G. Pataki, as she marched to the doorway, her voice, however, loud enough to just barely make it to his ears, sure that he could have easily heard past it, if he weren't the second to last one out the door, observing how it was almost like…almost like she were talking to herself, but hoping someone would acknowledge that she was in the room. Arnold, regrettably, had never even really noticed this, consciously, until the beginning of the year…shortly after-
"Move-IT-"
With gritted teeth, mind bubble popping like a firm balloon, Helga Pataki was simply standing right behind Arnold Shortman, as if waiting in line, almost resemblant to the way Brainy did, excluding any sensations of her breathing down his neck.
"What are you DEAF?"
There was a hard silence, Arnold's heart thumping at a noticeable pace, as he tried to shrug off any uncomfortable feelings she had been attempting to instill within him. This was Helga, and the last thing he needed was to admit to himself that she could be a little intimidating, to say the least…not Helga persay, but her proximity, rather, after their last encounter.
It had been 4 months…4 months since Helga had spilled her guts out to him, and even though they had brushed it off like it were an accident, Arnold had a hard time looking at her the same again. Deep down, he was just a little…freaked out, to be honest.
1….
2….
3…
Seconds passed, until…
WHAM!
And with a kick to his backside, he had hit the floor, hands extending, as valentine's from his collected box flew everywhere.
Everything…yet nothing had changed…
An involuntary groan, and Arnold was rubbing the side of his head, feeling humiliated for letting it happen, again. That is, things escalating with Helga, her usual cackle and sneer as she abandoned him beneath the door frame.
"See ya later, sucker."
Frowning, Arnold had to wonder…Why did he have to freeze up like that, anytime he saw Helga's assaults coming? Wasn't he used to it by now? Would it just always remain the same? Helga, getting away with everything she did?
There was a sigh, until Gerald appeared, as if a knight in red hooded armor, always seeming to pop up at just the right moment…or the worst one, depending on how you looked at it.
"Aaar-nold, you know I love you man, but WHEN are you gonna STAND UP to the MAN? I hate seeing you push over to her like this. I oughta…oughta-"
Raising a hand in defense, there was a harmless shake of blonde hair. "It's alright, Gerald. Really, i'm fine." He wasn't the one who saw Helga that summer ago, after all. It was he who had to live with that burden, not Gerald. "It only makes her-"
"…look bad - I know, I know. I've heard it a hundred times…" A red sleeve wrapped around the boy's shoulder, as his best friend pulled him in, so they were now shoulder to shoulder. "C'mon man, let's get out of here and talk about somethin' else."
"Slausen's?" Arnold would smile at his invitation.
"Slausen's, and then it's game on!"
Arnold frowned however, knowing what that implied. "You going with Phoebe?"
"I'm sorry, Arnold! Hey, it's not like you don't have time to ask anyone! What about Ruth or Lila or, or-"
"No, it's okay. You know what Gerald? I think I may actually head straight home…thinking of taking a nap, or maybe just forgetting the dance all together."
Besides, Ruth was graduated already by now, and Lila was only a friend. Arnold had gotten over her a while ago, and Gerald knew this. He couldn't blame his friend, getting excited and going desperate measures. After a pitiful silence, Gerald spoke up once more.
"A nap huh? Are you…sure Arnold? I mean sure-sure?"
"Yeah, i'm sure…" Forcing a small smile to convince his friend, Arnold began going his separate way.
"Maybe you do need a nap." He smiled, and then Arnold smiled back, waving goodbye, only to hide the indifference on his face as he turned the corner, a distinct look of apathy there, as his eyelids draped down halfway, displaying a new expression.
Man, they sure do spend a lot of time together…
Losing Gerald to Phoebe had been hard for Arnold, who had been feeling especially isolated lately, another sigh escaping him. He missed his best friend. The funny thing was though, he knew that if he told him, he would happily cancel plans. He supposed, deep down, that was about the worst part of it all…
Arms stretching out wide, Arnold let his lithe frame collapse onto his bed, as he entered his room in the boarder house, rolling to his side only to set an alarm for an hour or so before the dance, in case he decided to show up.
And before he knew it, there was his alarm, going "Hey Arnold, Hey Arnold!" signifying it was already time to hop back to reality.
MEANWHILE…
Gosh, i'm so stupid, so hopelessly deranged, so horrible to that football head. How could I do something like that to the guy on Valentine's Day? What's wrong with you, Helga? Miriam must have had something slipped into her drink before I was born, for cryin' out loud! What did I DO?
Arms flailing out in every direction of the bed in desperation, as Helga lie in her adolescent bedroom, nearly kicking the covers right off and onto the floor, fists clenched, as tears were nearly welling up in the corners of her eyes.
"How dare I…must I…" An emotional sigh, turning into a scowl, however, as the young girl was interrupted.
"HELGA, how many times do I have to tell you not to lock this door!?" There was a loud rattling coming from the other side of the room, growing increasingly more aggressive, until Helga's face had no other option but to go deadpan.
"Well jeez, he actually got my name right, the one time I don't want to be noticed…nice goin', Bob…"
Feet hitting to the floor lazily, Helga gets up like a zombie, slumping herself to the door. "Cripes, it's not my fault these doors are busted! Weren't you or Miriam supposed to call that one in or fix these or somethin' - OUCH!"
With some rattling of her own, the door finally busts open, Helga nearly pinching herself, on who knows what, as it swings open full force, just barely missing her head.
"I don't know, but things are going to start changing around here, young lady…" Bob walks into the room like a 'friggin' dictator', for lack of a better word from Helga, noseying around the entire room.
"Yeah, okay Hitler." She rolls her eyes, as he begins popping open draws and scrummaging, eventually swinging open the closet door too, causing Helga's eyes to pop open wide. "Hey, what gives!?"
"HELGA, what is this mess!? Rotten watermelon? You better clean this up pronto! I'm looking for the remote to the TV! Thought you might have been hidin' it up here."
"Dad, since when do I watch TV?" A whine, only ever emitted in the company of her parents, or when she was in the presence of something really scary, such as a sewer rat, suddenly vocalizing across the room. She couldn't help it - Big Bob and Miriam were irritating!
"And for your information, BOB, I don't have it! I'm getting ready for a dance, actually, so if you would just EXCUSE yourself this way, rrrrrgh!" With all of her force, Helga tried pushing him back out the door, only causing him to turn and growl in more anger, harmlessly swinging at her pink bow. "You gotta go, dad, and you gotta go now! I don't have much time to get ready and impress Arrrr, uh-uh artichokes!"
Artichokes! That was a good one! Why didn't I ever relay that code name to Phoebe?
And before she knew it, all she could hear was her dad's mumbling about nut jobs, before something came crashing down abruptly, hitting her dead in the face, like your typical Helga G. Pataki epiphany.
"WAIT a minute - did I just say impress Arnold? No, I can't do that! Not after that stupid confession! He knows WAY too much. I can't have the spotlight on me. That would just overwhelm us both! I gotta come up with a plan! Something solid…something…"
Eyes widening, scanning the room, stopped at the stand in closet, where all of Helga's different outfits were kept, gasping to herself. This included disguises, of course.
"Phoebe?"
A squeak emitted from the other line, indicating her best friend and trusty sidekick had picked up.
"Keep your eyes peeled, because tonight Cecile is making an entrance at the Valentine's Day Dance."
There was a smirk, and that was it, before Helga Pataki hung up the phone, leaving her friend to peice out the rest.