Chapter 27

Arnold had stayed with Helga for a little while longer, lying next to her on the bed and talking. He didn't leave until she was smiling and joking like her usual self again, and he kissed her and promised to be back in a few hours to pick her up.

She looked in the mirror, turning her head from one side to the other. She'd chosen a romantic updo, doing her hair in loose curls and pinning it in a loose knot at the back of her neck, with just a few wavy strands escaping to frame her face. She had to say, despite having gone off a video tutorial and watched it several times, she'd done a pretty bang-up job.

Makeup had been a little trickier though. She had never gotten into makeup, so didn't own any, and she'd had to rifle through Miriam's medicine cabinet hoping there was something she could use. With her lack of experience, she didn't want to overdo it and end up looking like a clown, so she settled on mascara, some light pink blush, and a dusty rose lipstick.

When she was done, she put on her dress and did a little spin in front of the mirror. She had never felt more beautiful in her life. Even for how seductive she felt wearing it, she didn't feel the need to hide herself in an oversized coat, or shrink against walls hoping she'd remain invisible. As Phoebe had put it, she'd gotten it for Arnold, and was more excited to show it off to him than worry about what anyone else thought of it.

Just then, the doorbell rang. He's here, she thought excitedly.

She grabbed her heels and slipped them on, and as she hurried toward the stairs she noted with satisfaction that she could easily walk in them. After searching with Phoebe for what seemed like an eternity, she'd found a pair of closed-toe chunky platform heels, ones with a sneaker-like bottom that felt like her combat boots and less like rickety stilts. The last thing she wanted to do was stumble around all night like some impractical damsel in distress.

She stole one last look in the hallway mirror, then took a deep breath before opening the front door.

"Wow," Arnold said in awe, taking in the sight before him. Helga leaned against the doorway, dressed in a full satin bustier with straps, in champagne pink, with tulle of the same color that lay flat, starting at her waist and ending just below her knees. She blushed at the way he gazed at her, taking every last detail in. "You look stunning," he said.

She looked him up and down. "You don't look half-bad yourself," she said. He stood in black pants and shoes, a white dress shirt, a cornflower blue tie, and a midnight blue velvet dinner jacket with a black satin lapel. He looked like he'd stepped straight out of a James Bond movie.

"Thanks. Gerald talked me into it," he said offhandedly, his eyes still fixed on her. From the waist down, she looked sweet and romantic, like a ballet dancer. But from the waist up, she could have been modeling lingerie, the bustier accentuating her flat stomach and pushing up her breasts. It was by far the sexiest thing he'd ever seen her wear, and he imagined all the things he'd like to do with her instead of go to the dance.

She continued leaning against the doorway in that tantalizing way, enjoying every last second of his gaze and wondering if his thoughts were as dirty as she hoped they were. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and tilted her head slightly. The moment before their lips touched, his eyes met hers, and the thread between them ignited heat and intimacy and careful desire that made the kiss more tender. When he took a step back, she was breathless.

"I have something for you," he said, reaching into his pocket. She put a finger to her lips in amusement, and he rolled his eyes and added, "Not that."

"Such a tease," she said. Her eyes followed his hand. She wondered what it could be.

Arnold pulled out a delicate gold chain with a heart-shaped locket on it and held it out to her. She took it wordlessly, and opened it to reveal a picture they had taken together one afternoon in the park. She looked so happy in it, leaning her head on his shoulder as he looked down lovingly at her. It was one of the few pictures she had of herself with a genuine smile. Then she saw the inscription on the left side: Arnold loves Helga.

She started laughing, and he smiled. "I thought you'd like that," he said.

She suddenly teared up a little. "It's so much better than mine," she said. She reached into the clutch she was carrying and pulled out her locket with his picture in it, the one she'd carried all her life to remind her of him when he wasn't around, to dream of him and love him from a distance until she could find a way to tell him all the things she'd poured out to it over the years.

His eyes widened in surprise and he took it, examining all its dings and worn edges. "How long have you had this?" he asked.

"As long as I can remember," she said, wiping her eyes. He smiled and handed it back to her.

"Well, now you have one everyone can see," he said, taking the necklace and fastening it around her neck. She stepped over to the hallway mirror and put her hand up to touch it. She thought back to all those years of hiding behind trash cans and buildings and alleyways, pouring out desperate monologues in secret and feeling like she'd never be standing where she was right now.

Arnold stepped up behind her, and she felt her heart overflowing. There weren't words to describe how much she loved him at that moment.

"I don't know what to say," she said softly to his reflection.

He chuckled. "Well, that's a first."

She turned toward him. "I love you, Arnold," she said. "I love you even more right now than I've loved you all my life, and I didn't think I could ever love you more than that."

He smiled. "I love you, too, Helga," he said. "More than I've ever loved anyone." He put his arms around her and she put her hands against his chest, feeling vulnerable yet protected.

When they finally parted, he started toward the front door. "Shall we?"

She smirked and rocked back and forth on her heels. "You sure you don't have anything else in those pockets for me?"

He stepped up to her and tilted her chin up. "And if I did?" he asked in a low, lusty voice.

She stopped breathing, and he pressed her mouth open and poured in a hot, molten kiss. She leaned against the wall, and he pulled one of her legs up, running his hand along the outside of her thigh.

But then his eyes cleared and he chuckled. "Come on, we don't want to be late," he said lightly, dropping her leg and stepping away as if nothing had happened. She stayed leaning against the wall for a moment, more sexually frustrated than she'd ever been.

"Seriously?" she asked, but he had already gone outside.

"Come on," he called. "We have a dance to get to."

"Alright, alright, sheesh. I'm comin'," she said. She would have to find a way to get him back for this. She grabbed her clutch and followed him out the door and into the night.

When they arrived at the school, students were steadily pouring into the building. The girls were all outfitted in bright-colored dresses on the arms of their dates, taking selfies and group photos with friends in random places along the lawn and sidewalk before going inside.

Arnold and Helga held hands as they walked the dimly lit path up to the school. Helga tried not to look at anyone's face as she walked by, not keen on recognizing anyone from P.S. 118. Arnold, noticing her discomfort, squeezed her hand to remind her he was right there.

"You ready?" he asked when they reached the door.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she said, meaning not at all. They walked in together.