Hello my people, I'm sure all of you thought I fell off a cliff or something. But actually I was just spending an overly long time writing this almost 150k fanfiction to completion. -_-" I hate to post before things are mostly finished, so here we are- another story that was supposed to be like 5-7 chapters is now a 30 chapter behemoth. LOL.
Anyway I hope you guys enjoy this one. I put a lot of thought and effort into themes and character motivations. I tried my best to stick closely to the character's and their usual motivations, however fair warning as I start out right about where the Jungle Movie left off, and then age them to High School by the next chapter or two. So this starts fluffy and kind of cute, but it will be dealing with growing up, being at odds with your parents, and coming to terms with your choices in life and in relation to others.
I will say that even though I believe these characters would do most of these things, to some degree I have bent a few flaws and enhanced them and hopefully you guys won't disagree too much or be upset. Also I will mention that their sexual lives do come heavily into play for one of the plotlines, so if that's something you want to avoid reading, I'll just stop you right now.
Enjoy and Review please. :)
"Talking"
Thoughts
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE CHARACTERS OF HEY ARNOLD THEY BELONG TO CRAIG BARTLETT. HOWEVER THE LYRICS WRITTEN ARE MY ORIGINAL CREATION ALONG WITH THE PLOT IDEAS. DON'T STEAL. THANKS.
Arnold dreamed his whole life about finding his parents lost in the jungle. When that day finally came, it was surprising in general.
Impossible to believe it finally happened.
Near Earth shattering to realize it only happened because of an unlikely force.
A force that had been pushing his choices for longer than he was aware of.
A force he'd only had a clue about one time.
A small hint that the girl who often tortured him was capable of more than crude pranks and endless name calling.
As he stood next to her in that stone temple raised high above the city of the Green Eyed People, he felt lost on what to do next.
The sacred Corazon, lost in an abyss, deep in the jungle. The pure golden heart that was the key to freeing a whole civilization of people, including Arnold's parents from the Sleeping Sickness.
When all seemed lost—
She knew what to do.
That force, that girl, Helga G. Pataki— revealed herself once more. The golden plated heart she'd been wearing for years removed from her neck and offered into his hands.
His own heart almost stopped when she finally let him gaze upon the trinket. The picture of his face protected by that strong frame.
Revealing that simple item, helped him understand so much about her that day.
Confirmed things he'd been wondering about her since they had stood on top of a skyscraper a little over a year ago.
She'd confessed then too.
It was like lightning had struck twice.
He knew she was the kind of person who was secretive about a lot of things including her feelings most of all. He knew that had a lot to do with her upbringing and he would never hold that against her.
But he also realized in that moment, it was now or never.
After he'd confirmed his parents were awake, and they all spent some time catching up, he noticed her slip away. And he saw his chance to finally follow the force that had been revealed to him once more.
He may have not been as clear as he could've been, the words he wanted to say confusing and still a challenging thought to wrap his brain around— that he might actually have real feelings for that girl.
That he might even...
He kissed her tenderly hoping that the other words would come to him later.
Once he unpacked all of the conflicting feelings he was still carrying around. He'd hoped that at least this simple act of affection would set them on the right path.
Upon returning to Hillwood, things went mostly back to normal with everyone. Despite the reveal of their feelings towards the other, Arnold and Helga still fumbled around the issue for a few months.
Old habits died hard they supposed.
They were friends, sure.
Hung out— all the time.
But romantic inclinations, what were those?
Every attempt by either to move the dial forward seemed to go awry or into a comical argument—
Who were they hiding from anyway?
Resolving that issue always got pushed to the back of his mind. Preoccupying himself instead with the excitement of having parents to come home to each night. It was like something out of the movies for him. He loved spending every moment he could with them.
And after they got some of the 'how's' and 'why's' they were trapped so long out of the way, they promised to never again talk about that forsaken jungle.
Of course, the unfortunate thought always lingered at the back of his mind whether his parents meant that fully, or if they were just saying it out of a newfound gratitude for their son.
Saying it because it was what he needed to hear.
Saying it because it was what they thought was right.
Ten years away was enough.
Unfortunately for Arnold, not only had he become overprotective of his parents, they in turn also followed suit. Even the most benign things sent them into worry and panic mode. He figured that it would take some getting used to.
One day he came home early from hanging out with the gang. He'd managed to flip his bike and face plant in the dirt. Hilarious to the group, but probably wouldn't be so funny to his parents.
Helga in tow because she wanted to make sure he got home okay. And because at this point did she really need a reason anymore? She was no longer a force in the shadows. He'd pulled her out into the sunlight.
"Ow, it looks terrible." Arnold said as he dabbed the fresh cut splitting across his forehead.
"Heh, maybe you'll need stitches and then I can call you Arnoldostien." She smirked.
He glared at her, "This is serious."
Helga watched him dab his wound again and offer his hand as proof of his claims. The dabs of blood with smears of mud mixed on his fingertips made her cringe slightly.
"It'll be fine. It was an accident. Not like you were trying to be Eviel Knievel or something."
He winced at the comparison, "I wasn't exactly being careful either."
"Psh, how would you know that the ramp would decide to break on you? It held tubby up no problem." She rolled her eyes deeply letting it reach her head, "'Sides we're going to downplay the theatrics—"
"This doesn't look like a simple fall! You shouldn't have said that. Now I'm jinxed and will need stitches." He rubbed some more blood off his wound
"Just tell her it was a simple fall. Don't make this hard, Arnoldo." She thinned her eyes at him, I thought Princess was bad...Drama Queen...
"You assume my Mom is the dramatic one." He snickered.
"As much as that guy gets hurt? Seriously!?" She laughed.
As they approached the Boarding House door, he had one last thought— They're going to freak out...
The door creaked open. The boy tentatively made his way in. The girl boisterously pushed past him intent on solving the matter quickly.
"Hey! We're home!" She called down the hallway ignoring the eye roll he gave her.
They turned into the kitchen and found all of his parental units having a quiet brunch. A deck of cards in the middle as they played a hand.
"What's up, Shortman?" Grandpa was the first to acknowledge them, briefly glancing at them before cussing his hand.
"Dad, could you not?" Miles said brow creasing, "The kids are right there."
"Patooy, you don't think they've heard those words? Probably even said those words around their little friends?"
Miles and Stella glanced at the pair to find Arnold shaking his head 'No' furiously while Helga shrugged in admittance.
"They allow that in school?" Miles said seeming flustered.
"Miles, his forehead look! Oh gracious baby, what happened?!" Stella leapt up, full Mom Mode activated.
Arnold stumbled backwards from them, "It's just a little cut. Just need to clean— oww, Mom!"
Stella gripped his face gently holding him place, her finger drawing along the line with a pensive stare, "You're going to need stitches! How did this happen?"
His doctor mother would know. There was no hiding wound severity from her.
"Just biking down the old dirt paths. We do it all the time Mom, seriously." He tried to keep his voice calm, but a twinge of embarrassment peeked out.
"Yeah, we jump that wood ramp all the time. Just happened to snap on Lucky's turn." Helga said with a nonchalant shrug.
His parents both paled considerably before turning flustered again. Arnold shot Helga an indignant look, his hand waved in their direction. Her reaction daft embarrassment.
"Jumped a wooden ramp!?" Stella said with no effort to hide her shrill tone.
"Dad, did you know the kids were doing this kind of stuff?" Miles turned sharply upon Phil who was still sitting at the table.
"Oh, you mean normal kid stuff? You know how many times you've wrecked your bike?" Phil said with a raised brow.
"Seventy-two and half times to be exact, Panja!" Gertie felt the need to chime in with a jovial cackle.
Everyone looked at the older woman as though they were trying to figure out how someone had 'half' of a crash, but that bullet point was promptly forgotten. His father started to hyperventilate into a wild hysteria.
"Yeah, but I wasn't trying to do stunts!" his hand waved wildly.
Arnold covered his face and let out a low sigh. Helga put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. Stella trying her best to calm Miles down.
Phil stood up with a rare scowl on his face, "And I let you go to the jungle to be an Anthro-whatsit when you were seventeen. We all make mistakes sometimes!"
Miles waved his hand, his breath still hitching unable to form a coherent counterargument.
"Dear, we'll take him to the doctor—" Stella said, rubbing his back soothingly.
"Doctor?" Phil said incredulously, "Back in my day we just dumped vinegar and baking soda on it and called it good. Rub it clean everyday, he'll be fine."
Arnold's parents looked like they might have a heart attack at his suggestion.
The chance of that actually happening increased as Gertie found a bottle of vinegar and baking soda to put on the counter.
"We're taking him to the doctor, right now." Miles said firmly.
"Oh, leave the boy alone and come back over here already!" Phil waved them down and returned to his seat.
Miles and Stella turned towards where their son was standing.
Sometime during their argument, the pair of pre-teens had managed to slip away upstairs.
Standing in the community bathroom together, Helga sat nearby while Arnold attempted to clean the cut himself. Periodically wincing as the rubbing alcohol burned his wound.
"This is making it worse." he whined, shooting her a dejected look.
She let out a sigh, and started rifling through the medicine cabinet. Finding a brown bottle she read the label, "This is hydrogen peroxide. Should work better. Doesn't burn as much."
He waved to relinquish control to her, feeling squeamish to try and nurse his wound any further. Her hands delicate against his skin as she rubbed a cotton ball against his brow. He let out a low sigh, his heart finally slowing.
Getting hurt in general had been stressful enough, but then to see his parents freak out so thoroughly over such a minor injury only sent his heart racing— colliding with his rib cage in panic.
Helga had recognized the look on his face immediately. Once again becoming the force he sometimes needed in his life, and dragged him up the stairs while the adults continued arguing.
"How do you know about this stuff?" his voice laced with awe before their eyes met briefly.
"Phoebs, of course. And I may have had to treat myself from time to time." she shrugged off his question.
Of course, he should've realized her parents probably wouldn't care what happened to her. She could probably come home with a broken arm and they'd ask her to take out the trash with her good arm.
"There. Doesn't look so bad now." Her voice pleased as she feathered another delicate finger across the gash.
He looked in the mirror briefly. Indeed the wound looked less intimidating now that it was clean. A smile tugged at his lips, before he turned to give her a gentle kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks Helga." a flush rose on his cheeks, Ah geez, why'd I do that? You know how that makes her feel...
"Don't mention it." A tremor ran down her spine, I can't believe he did that!? Are we ever going to talk about...what happened?
"There you are!" Miles' voice cut into the conversation, "Get your jacket. We're going to the doctor."
"But Dad, look it's fine, really." Arnold pointed to his forehead as though that would convince him.
His father would have none of it and shook his head beckoning him onward still.
"Fine, I'll see you later Helga. Thanks for walking me home."
"Goodbye Helga, maybe try to keep him out of trouble for me next time?" Miles asked hopefully while his hands clasped together.
"Sure, Pops." she smirked with a boy scout salute.
After a very long wait in the hospital Emergency Room, the doctor finally took a look at his 'fatal wound' as described by his father. The doctor had only chuckled upon inspection of the aggrievance. Taking a second to wipe it with hospital grade antiseptic and put a band-aid over it. His mother tried to insist he needed stitches.
But promptly they were waved out of the room and given basic instructions to keep the cut clean and over the counter antibiotic cream. Arnold felt a tense weight of embarrassment on his chest. It wasn't the first time they'd rushed him to the E.R. over basically nothing in a worried panic, and he figured it wouldn't be the last either.
The next day, at the behest of his parents, he wore a cotton stocking cap padded with bandage gauze to school—
When it was practically ready to be summer.
He endured the jibes and name calling for the day even though Helga had pointed out that it wasn't like they would actually know if he was wearing it at school.
"Just put it back on before you get home. Simple." Helga said with a shrug.
He looked at her like she'd asked him to cut off his arm.
Lie to his parents?!
He swallowed heavily and tried not to think about how uncomfortable the hat was. Or how much sweat he'd accumulated in such a short time. He fingered the edge of the hat. His fingers lingered there as he considered what she said.
She gave him another encouraging wave. And off the hat came, stuffed into his backpack for later. He let out a pleased sigh. The coolness of the room finally permeating his brow.
He figured that was when it started.
He didn't like it— at all.
All those little fibs he started to tell— but sometimes they felt necessary. Small white lies he thought were harmless because it was hard to be direct with his parents. Little half-truths that started to pile up and drown his credibility.
Soothe their irrational fears—
And sometimes it was just more convenient than telling the truth.
Without meaning to, it'd became easier to lie to them.
He figured his peers already knew that kind of thing already though—
His golden boy reputation started to tarnish.
He wasn't sure when they started talking about it exactly. His parents had been home about seven months at this point. They had adjusted to city life easily enough. They hadn't picked up jobs yet as they wanted to enjoy as much time with Arnold as possible.
He figured it had started innocently enough.
Even though they'd promised never to talk about it again.
There was one thing that just kept popping up in their conversation.
Traveling the world had been such a big part of their lives before they became parents. It was natural to assume that they would want to share it with their one and only son.
"You see that?" Miles pointed with a grin.
Arnold leaned over his father's lap to glance at the picture in his book. It was a picture of Stella in a baggy shirt and shorts. Her hair was a disjointed sticky mess. She looked more like an angry porcupine than a person.
"Oh, don't show him that one." Stella tugged the book from his hands with a laugh.
Arnold chuckled, "It's not a bad picture, Mom."
"Yes it is! It was the middle of the day and it was well over 110 degrees-"
"With a humidity index of easily 80 percent. Right." Miles seemed smug at her notion.
She batted his shoulder playfully, "Fine, I'll find a good one of you."
The boy smiled happily nestled between his parents. He kept looking between the two of them as they talked and gave him loving pats. He kept thinking he was going to wake up any moment.
That any moment they'd be gone again.
He shook his head trying hard to focus in the moment. Focus on how much he could enjoy each of them now, and not what might be.
After all, it was something that probably would never happen ever again.
The longer he'd spent with his parents, he realized that he seemed to get along with his mother much better than his father. He was a little sore to admit that notion to himself. No one could replace the bond he had with his grandpa, but he'd always imagined bonding with his father most of all.
A minor setback he supposed.
Stella often mitigating Miles overbearing nature. Sometimes if something minor happened, she often suggested they keep it to themselves. No need to worry Miles over nothing after all. Arnold had been hesitant at his mother's reasoning. He wanted to share everything with both of them, good and bad.
Of course, due to his usual honest nature, he'd divulged something to Miles that his mother had said probably wasn't the best idea, which in turn caused a heated argument between the two.
Arnold sunk into himself at that realization.
Suddenly being around them had a new layer of complication.
So, he did what any young boy would do, follow the instructions of each of his parents individually even if they clashed with what the other was saying.
He did his best, but he knew no matter what he did, someone's feelings would get hurt if the other ever found out.
He'd tried broaching the topic with each of them separately, but reasoning with his parents proved harder than any negotiation he'd ever undertaken.
Resolution of that fact had yet to be seen on the horizon.
He'd hoped that his parents would finally get on the same page about something. He tried to cut them some slack, after all they were rusty on the parenting thing by about ten years.
"Ah, I missed this place." Miles' voice was low and reflective.
Stella hummed, "Yeah, the flowers went on forever and the waterfalls— so gorgeous."
"There was just a simplicity there that the city just doesn't have." Miles fingers trailed over the tropical pictures, "Quiet, relaxing. Just work and help the people."
"Maybe we'll retire there one day. Enjoy a quiet drink on the beach."
Arnold stiffened at their banter, Surely they're joking around right? They don't really want to go back to a jungle and live? They said retire, that's a long time from now, right?
Naturally, them being on the same page about that sore topic wasn't what he hoped for at all.
"The people there were so nice. I loved learning how to fish from Nicolás."
"You never told me about that." Stella said playfully, "What kind of fish?"
"Hey, wait!" Arnold jumped off the couch and passed a pensive look over the pair, "You're just talking- right? You don't really want to go- right?"
His parents suddenly looked like deer in the headlights. A babbling mess of explanations coming from their mouths with no coherency. They shared a look again and Miles nodded for Stella to articulate their thoughts.
"Sweetie, come here." Stella motioned for the boy to return to the couch.
His feet planted firmly to the ground, taking root, "No. Tell me what you're thinking."
"We're not going back to the jungle. Not any jungle. We're just remembering things we did, surely you understand that?"
"I do- but the way you sound-" his hand gripped his hair, as if he couldn't finish his thoughts, "You sound like..."
"Sweetie," Stella stood up and crossed the distance to hug him tight, "We're not. I promise."
Miles followed suit to stand next to them, "Sorry, we shouldn't have even joked about it. We didn't mean to make you upset."
"We went through so much to get you back," Arnold's voice cracked, as he rubbed stubborn tears away, "If I lost you again..."
"You won't lose us." She gave him a determined look.
"You're stuck with us for life? Got it?" Miles eye level with him now.
He let out a weak chuckle, and rubbed more tears from his cheeks, "Okay."
"Hey, no more tears," Stella leaned down to brush his cheek, "If you don't want us to talk about our travels, we won't."
He shook his head roughly, "No, I wanna know all about you guys. I'm sorry it's silly, I know."
"No, it's not silly." She admitted sorely, "What age do you guys start college now?"
"College! Oh, I didn't even think about that." Miles planted a hand in his hair.
Stella and Arnold laughed at his sudden intense panic about an event that was easily six-ish years in the future. Arnold guessed they weren't so different after all. His parents having a similar concern helped him feel a little less tense.
"Don't worry," Arnold said, "That won't happen until after twelfth grade. I'll be at least seventeen. Maybe wait 'til I'm eighteen so we can spend more time."
"Oh baby, that's sweet." Stella hugged him again, before leaning back to give him a reflective look, "We won't ask you to put your life on hold for us."
"What's a year?" Miles half-joked, and then promptly shut his mouth at his wife's glare.
"Arnold, I'm— we're serious. The years we get to spend with you now, they'll have to be enough."
"Your mother's right. We'll always be here for you, no matter how far you travel."
The thought of leaving them still couldn't be entertained by the boy at all. So in an effort to protect the group from thinking about that sore topic anymore, he said something he thought would help them most.
"Well, maybe one day we can travel together a little." The boy's gaze bright as he looked up at his parents.
The pair of them looked towards each other and then back at the expectant look on their son's face.
"Well, that might be fun." Miles seemed very smitten with the idea, "Kids still study abroad right?"
Stella shot him a playful smirk, "Maybe after high school we can travel to some on the map places."
The three of them came together to the couch again. Seemingly all content with the conclusion drawn from that conversation. His parents none the wiser that his suggestion held little weight.
He realized that in a small way he'd lied to them. Another thought that twisted his stomach.
Sure plenty of people traveled all over. Traveled deep into jungles, caves and mountains, before coming back to civilization with no trouble to note.
But that didn't mean they had to do that anymore.
Or maybe he'd change his mind when he got older?
Arnold laid wide awake in his bed. They'd ended their conversation on such a positive note. And had even switched topics to talk about something happy for all of them.
But yet.
Staring out the skylight usually granted him a calming peace, but now all it did was bring back all the memories of the many times he would stare out the window and dream of rescuing his parents.
Those thoughts lingered.
A sharp breath left him as a stabbing pain forced him to sit up. He clutched his chest knowing full well that the thoughts he was having were born of the conversation they entertained earlier.
He believed his parents would stay.
He wanted to believe it with his whole heart without question, but still his mind stirred. Pouring it over and over again as if the answer to the inquiry would change.
That concern about how happy they sounded about the jungle.
Pushing the covers off of himself, he leapt out of bed. His gait stiff as he forced himself towards the door. A small creak as he opened it and crept down the stairs. His initial thought was to seek out his parents.
Maybe join them in their room.
It was a habit he'd picked up since they'd come back. He knew he was really too old for that kind of behavior, but he figured it was a natural reaction to stress of his previous loss.
But as his feet hit the last step, he realized that maybe consulting his grandpa was a better choice this time. He took his time passing the doors with a conflict burning in his heart.
He didn't necessarily want to have to wake them, he knew Grandpa had been complaining lately about having trouble staying asleep once he finally got to sleep.
But still he stood there, brows tilted as he stared at their door.
He quietly rapped on it, "Gr-grandpa?"
The pattering of steps met his ears before the door swung open. His grandpa in his familiar stocking cap and striped pajamas.
"What's up, Shortman?" Phil answered with a playful tone, "Your parents are down that way? Di-ja forget?"
Arnold laughed as his grandpa ruffled his hair, "No, I didn't. I just. Well, can I ask you something?"
Before he got the chance to ask, Gertie joined them in the doorway, "Everything okay, Kimba?"
"No, it's not." He let out a sore chuckle, "Mom and Dad want to go back to the jungle."
"What!?" the pair of them practically shouted.
"After you got half drowned in the river? And fought off all those pirates?" Phil continued ranting ignoring how loud he actually was being, "And traversed all those Green Eyes' booby trapped puzzles! Have they lost their minds?"
Gertie patted his arm in an effort to calm him down for once, "Now Phil, it's almost one in the morning."
"I don't care. I'm going down there right now-"
"Grandpa, wait!" Arnold jumped into his path, before he clutched his grandpa's shirt, "They told me they weren't going to-"
"So which is it?" Phil scratched his head, "Are they going or not?"
"They said they weren't going to, but they sounded like they really wanted to anyway. I just don't know if they were trying to make me feel better." The boy sighed, Not that I'm much better...
Phil finally took a calming breath, and motioned for the three of them to convene in their bedroom. Gertie and Arnold followed diligently into the room. The quiet echo of the door as it shut behind them.
"We always knew there was a chance." Gertie said softly, her face marred with a sad expression.
"Shortman, your parents have always had the need to wander." Phil wiggled his fingers as though they were confetti floating away, "Miles has been like that his whole life. Kinda like you and how you and your little friends go all over the city."
"Well, wandering the city is different than going there." Arnold let out another sigh.
"Miles couldn't wait to be an Anthro-whatever. He practically had his bags packed when he was seventeen years old." Phil said with a shake of his head.
"Sixteen." Gertie corrected with a chuckle.
"Whatever, the point is. There's just something inside of them, I guess."
"Sorry, Arnold. But they might want to take off again. And if they do, remember it's not your fault."
"I wouldn't think-" Arnold raised his hand.
"Something's wrong with that boy." Phil grumbled, folding his arms.
"Phil, you don't mean that." Gertie let out a sigh, "Look Arnold, we can't change what might happen."
"Well, can't you talk to them? I mean they promised, but I just-" he looked unable to finish, "I just got them back."
His grandparents warranted him a sympathetic look. The boy looked as though he'd been stung.
"I'm sorry, it's not like you guys haven't been great. The best." his eyes watery.
"Never think that again." Phil scolded, "We know you love us all."
Arnold relaxed a little at his words, I just feel like I'm always torn between them...they're so different from my parents...
Gertie put a gentle hand on his shoulder, "It's best not to worry about it right now. Get some sleep, and I'll make pancakes in the morning. How does that sound?"
"Great, Grandma." he let out a sigh, letting the tension release.
He hugged his grandparents in turn before heading back towards his room. He figured that if it ever came to that decision for some reason, his grandparents would have his back on that sentiment.
Just like they promised not to hold him back, he didn't want to tell his parents how to live their lives either.
He didn't want to force them to stay on his account.
However in his mind and deep in his heart, he already knew he had no interest in going down the same path as them.
He knew there were plenty of ways to help people without going halfway around the world.
He just hoped they would understand if it ever came to that moment.
As his head hit the pillow, he let his thoughts stew and spin. He let his brain entertain any thoughts it wanted, knowing full well that most of the scenarios were a highly unlikely probability.
As he laid in bed, he kept trying to will himself to sleep. The clock ticked to indicate that it was even later now.
The things his parents said still made him anxious.
The things his grandparents said did little to alleviate his internal struggle.
If anything, his grandpa's strong reaction intensified his anxiety. What if both sets of parents started fighting over it?
It would essentially be his fault for saying anything at all.
And that was something he didn't want on his consciousness.
He now realized that, like the game of keep-away he had to play between his parents, he would also have to play a similar game between his two sets of parents.
And hope his grandparents didn't bring up his concerns the next day or something.
A pit started to form in his stomach. Now realizing he would have another layer of complication between his closest family members.
He patted the side of his leg. Eyes darted from side to side as the faint tick of his clock consumed him momentarily.
He reached over to his nightstand. Holding the phone in his hand, he couldn't believe what he was thinking.
He couldn't believe what he was about to do.
No I can't, He put the phone back down, I haven't even given her a proper answer yet...
He hugged his knees to his face feeling another complicated emotion take him over, but somehow he felt drawn to this one.
It was like a force beckoning him closer. Demanding that he satisfy the need to be heard.
For some strong reason, he felt compelled to talk to her.
Well, if I call her, I don't want to talk about my family problems...he mulled over, a slight shiver ran down his spine, And I definitely can't talk about the jungle...
He put the phone to his ear and let it ring, I'm sure I'll think of something, but what's important enough this late at night?
After three rings he almost lost nerve, ready to hang up.
"What, Football Head? What's so important at two in the morning?" Her voice sharply frustrated.
He knew she would answer harshly, but he hadn't thought of another topic to talk about. A painful regret that he'd even called her in the first place.
His resolve to stay calm cracked. He became overwhelmed with all his conflicting emotions once more.
A soft sob left him, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"It's alright, really." Her soft voice interrupted him.
Words stuck in his throat.
He couldn't remember a time he'd ever heard her so quiet. He got so silent, she thought he'd hung up. The soft sounds of his emotions lost to the phone receiver.
"Its about the assignment right?" She said with a wry inflection, "I mean what is Mr. Stintz thinking? More like Mr. Stinky assignment. No offense to the Stinkmeister, of course."
"Of course." He croaked, wiping the fresh tears away, his fingers gripped his knees tightly to his chest.
"What do I want to be when I grow up? Does anyone really know the answer to that?" She flopped back onto her bed, gaze on the ceiling, "Heck, there are fifty year olds who still career change."
"Yeah." He offered, feeling lamer by the minute, Helga, why are you being so nice to me...I don't deserve it...calling you in the middle of the night...what's wrong with me?
"I actually," her words slower now, "Was up when you called."
"What?" His voice stained with disbelief.
"Yeah, I," she twirled her hair in her finger, "Bob told me my future tonight."
"Future? Like a psychic?" His voice was genuinely confused.
"Psh, very funny. No, he told me I'm going to business school. When I'm old enough."
"What? Are you—" he leaned forward at her admission, "Happy about it?"
"Criminy, I don't know."
He could hear her thump onto the bed again. A small giggle from him. His tears effectively dried now.
"I just wanna decide for myself, you know? Pick my own path. Even if I end up wrong."
"Can I be honest with you?" He trailed a line through his sheets.
"What? You've been lying to me this whole time?" A snort in her laugh.
"I hate making decisions."
There was a gasp of disbelief from her, "Are you kidding me right now? You're always the first to jump in where there's a problem. Even if you're not wanted."
"No, those decisions are easy," he clutched a swath of fabric, "I mean when I might hurt someone's feelings."
"Oh," she said quietly.
He realized his mistake immediately, "Not about you. I mean. It's my family."
Her usual sass came back into her voice full force, "So what's your damage then exactly, geek bait?"
"I uh, well," he swallowed heavily, "Just worried about the future too, I guess."
"Yeah?"
"My parents may be deciding some things for me and I just don't know what to think."
There was a somber silence between them. The sounds of their rooms suddenly more company than the person on the phone.
"I guess, as long as you can call me in the middle of the night, we'll figure something out?" Helga sounded like she was giving him a favor.
"I guess, if your sleeping habits don't improve, I might just have to." A small laugh on his lips, "You know, to check up on you."
"Ug, please don't. Olga's bad enough on her own. Ever since they invented texting. Geez."
He shook his head knowing full well that she wasn't completely serious. That she was just being her usual self. A version of herself that made him comfortable-
More comfortable than he'd realized.
And he wasn't exactly sure when that happened either.
Add it to the pile, I suppose, Arnold finally let his legs relax, eyes drooped, "Sorry I called you so late. Thanks for listening."
"I'm glad you called." Helga said softly before sharply adding, "Next time you better make sure I'm awake first before you call or I'll wring your neck."
"Whatever you say, Helga." He said as the phone call ended.
A strange calm washed over him, We didn't even talk about what was bothering me, and somehow just talking to her made me feel better... why is that?
So let me know what you think! I will aim to keep this regularly updated, but as always my life gets hectic as much as the next person. So apologies in advance!