Chapter 17
Arnold fumbled with the mic, his hands shaking a little. He was not one for public performances, but he had something to say, and he wanted to say it right, for her.
He cleared his throat. "I know everyone here usually reads poetry," he said. "But I wanted to read part of an essay I wrote about someone I know, or at least, I know now." He took the pages from his pocket and unfolded them. Before he started to read, he found Helga's eyes in the audience and didn't look away.
"Three weeks ago, I would have said that I've known Helga since preschool. Tonight, I can tell you I've only truly known her for three weeks, but they've been the best weeks of my life. When I was transferred to her English class, I heard her thoughts about the world through poetry. I got to look at life in a way I'd never imagined. I've seen her comfort friends with humor, loyalty, and compassion, and I've seen her be brave and true to herself in the face of others' cruelty and unfair circumstances. Helga is motivated by love in every area of her life: She loves ideas for how they can change people and the world, she loves the people in her life fiercely for who they are, and she loves herself because she writes about the kind of love she wants for herself- even if sometimes she doesn't think she deserves it. She thinks that no one sees or knows her. But I do, and I want to continue knowing her, all of her, because she's beautiful, and I want to remind her of that every day."
Helga sat dumbstruck as the people around her cheered and clapped, nudged her and smiled at her. Before she knew it, Arnold had made his way off the stage and was walking toward her. She felt like she was in a dream. This couldn't be real.
Without a word, he gently took her hand and led her outside. The street was dark and quiet, and the only light came from a big full moon partially eclipsed behind a water tower. She felt both here and not here, both feet on the ground yet also floating somewhere above the scene that was unfolding before her.
Arnold stood in front of her, staring at her with purpose.
"Helga, I love your poetry, and our conversations. I love how easy it is to talk to you. I love your jokes, even the ones you make at my expense." He chuckled, then took a deep breath. "And...I love you."
Helga stared open-mouthed at Arnold. "What?"
He rubbed his neck. "I know it sounds crazy. I've never said that to anyone before. But, I've also never felt like this before." He paused. "It's okay if you don't like me back. I just needed you to know."
The silence seemed to stretch on forever, and he tried to be patient as she processed it. He felt his heart racing. Finally she spoke.
"Arnold, I don't like you back." He looked disappointed, and she let out a small laugh. "I have been waiting for you to love me back since we were in preschool."
Arnold's eyes went wide. "What?"
"Arnold. Who do you think I wrote those poems about?"
"But- but you said-"
"I wasn't ready to tell you. How could I? I had no clue you'd ever feel the same way about me that I have all these years."
Arnold smiled as it dawned on him. "So, all your poetry is…?"
"About you? Yes. It's always been you, football head. You're the reason I write. And... you've always been the person who gave me hope that the world isn't such a bad place." She looked down at her feet, too embarrassed to look up.
He stepped closer. "Helga?"
"Yes?"
"I love you. And I would've loved you back then too, if you'd let me get to know you."
"Really?"
"Of course! You're brilliant, and sensitive, and brave, and you understand me like no one else does. Plus," he smirked, "you don't let me get away with anything."
She smiled and said proudly, "Damn straight."
"So, all those poems were about me?"
"Yeah," she said shyly.
He leaned forward. "Even the sexy ones?"
Helga blushed. "Y-yes."
"So you wouldn't be opposed to playing them out?" He winked.
Helga covered her face. "Oh my god. What is happening?"
Arnold laughed. "I'm just kidding, Helga. It's actually pretty nice, having the upper hand for once."
"Yeah, well, don't get used to it." And with that, she stepped close to him, looked up into his eyes, those eyes she'd dreamed of and looked into since they were kids. Only this time they were staring back into hers, and she knew as she had in every daydream, every poem, every moment of their lives, that they were meant to be together.
Arnold looked down at her, so vulnerable, so completely knowing of every little facet of him, and was just as sure. The second her walls came down he felt it, that invisible thread connecting them, as it always had tried to show him by throwing them together in all their misadventures and his crazy dreams, to show him what he'd been blind to all along: his person, his soulmate, the girl he was always meant to be with.
He cradled her cheek in his hand, sliding his fingers through her hair and gently pulling her close, until she could feel his warm breath on her ear.
He whispered, "Is it like your dream?" Before she could answer he kissed her neck softly and she let out a surprised little "oh" as he continued placing feather light kisses down her jawline until he came to her lips. He hesitated, looking for her consent, and she rolled her eyes and pulled him in roughly for a kiss.
His eyes widened in surprise but then closed as the kiss deepened. He had never felt anything like it, this mixture of tenderness and playful lust. No one had ever wanted him like this, or made him want someone more.
Not knowing what she was doing, Helga teased her tongue along his lips until they parted slightly, and deepened their kiss. Arnold felt the warmth pooling in his gut again, and the memory of her sensual poem came back to him. He broke the kiss and stepped back.
Helga looked self-conscious. "I'm sorry. Was I bad?"
Arnold pulled his plaid shirt down. He was still trying to catch his breath. "It's not that." He blushed and looked down sheepishly. A lightbulb went on in Helga's brain.
She couldn't believe what was happening. Not only had she just kissed the guy she'd loved her entire life but he had responded to that kiss, in a way he'd never responded to anyone else. He wanted her, and it made her feel powerful.
She chuckled and walked toward him. "Arnold, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." The closer she got the more he backed up, until his back was against the shop's wall. "Or this." She kissed him again, this time pressing herself against him so she could feel how much he wanted her.
"Mmm," he said through their kiss, closing his eyes. He slid his hands over her hips, pressing his fingers into her skin, and held her body flush against his. He'd never felt such want. Their bodies fit together so perfectly, her soft curves against his firm muscles. It was more than he ever expected out of a first, or rather, second, kiss.
Just then, the door of the coffee shop creaked open. Helga jumped back, leaving Arnold dazed against the wall. She shoved her pink book at him, and after a moment he realized what he was supposed to do with it. He held it in front of his pants, and after the stranger had disappeared into the night, they looked into each other's eyes, trying to keep a straight face, before bursting out laughing.
Helga pulled on his hand. "Let's go."
"Where are we going?" Arnold asked.
"Doesn't matter. Anywhere."
Arnold smiled and squeezed her hand. Knowing just how long she'd waited for him, he understood. He'd go wherever she wanted to go.
As they walked down the deserted street, they fell into easy conversation. What could have been made awkward only felt natural, and demolished the last of Helga's walls.
Every cell of her body felt alive, electric. As she walked along, she glanced over at the boy she'd loved all her life. He knew. He knew and he loved her back. It was almost too much to comprehend. She had to hear it.
"Say it again," she said.
He looked confused for a moment then relaxed as he realized what she wanted. "Say what again?"
"Don't make me sock you, football head."
He laughed. "I don't know how I couldn't have seen through all your empty threats over the years."
"Hey, I've socked plenty of people. Ask Rhonda. She can vouch for me."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm still not sure that was the best way to handle that situation," he said.
"Well, you must not have felt that strongly about it if you didn't snitch on me to the principal."
"Yeah, you must be rubbing off on me. Such a bad influence." He chuckled, but then his face turned serious. "But, Helga, you should know that Phoebe and I, well, we both may have told the principal what Rhonda and Nadine did."
"You did what?!"
He held up his hands. "Don't get mad. We just couldn't let her get away with doing something so awful to you. It's just not right. It turns out we didn't even need to though. Four other students had already come forward and Rhonda and Nadine were suspended indefinitely today."
"Looks like Miss Rhonda Lloyd won't be gracing everyone with her presence at the dance." She tried not to feel so satisfied. She felt silly and superstitious for thinking it, but she thought karma might come back to get her about that black eye if she was too happy about how everything had turned out.
Arnold stopped walking. "Hey, Helga? About the dance? I know you're supposed to be the one to ask but...would you go with me?"
Helga's eyes widened in surprise. "What about Lila?" she asked. Karma couldn't possibly be this generous.
"Well, when I told Lila I like someone else, she told me I should go with you."
"She told you that?"
"Yeah."
Helga looked at Arnold, waiting for her response. Lila hadn't done it for her, she knew that much. She'd done it for him, because she thought it would make him happy. And seeing him standing before her, she knew it was true. He had just driven two hours to find her, to tell her on a stage in front of a room full of strangers what she meant to him. He had told her he loved her, and kissed her. And now he was waiting for her to agree to go on a date where the whole school would know that they were together.
She pretended to think about it. "Before I agree to anything, I believe I'm still waiting for you to say a certain three words." She stared at him expectantly and crossed her arms.
He rolled his eyes, then stepped closer. He opened his mouth, then closed it. With a smirk, he said 'I love you' in sign language.
"Criminy," she said, shaking her head. "Well, I guess that's what I get for teaching you that." He held his hands up in question, pretending to be mute. She smiled. "Of course I'll go to the dance with you, you idiot."
