Our Own Choices
A Hey Arnold Fanfic
Chapter 1: Wherever the Leaves fall
Orange skies drifted far above, their elegant shifting forms converging upon the afternoon with reverence and grace. Shapes merged and twirled, casting themselves upon the piercing light that broke through the stupor of Helga below. Every now and then a leaf would fall, caught in the movement of the clouds and perform its own dance. Flips and spins would follow the swirls before gently coming to rest on the pavement below. She had been watching for an hour now: at no point did she wish it to stop.
"Helga can you hold this?"
Helga turned to the voice behind her and grabbed the broom. Arnold ducked back into his closet and continued the rummaging. With a casual flick of her hair, Helga jumped down off the windowsill and made her way to the centre of the room. Twirling it with care and poise, Helga began to move in time to the falling leaf above, mimicking its subtle juts and pirouettes before coming to rest of the floor below.
"You can't get out of cleaning that easily," Helga heard from inside the closet. "You promised to help me clean once we cleaned your room."
"Enough with the reminders Arnold. I've already helped dust your old shelves. What more could you want?"
Dropping another box onto the floor, Arnold leapt up onto his bed and began reaching for the ceiling. "Maybe some smaller cobwebs. Are you sure you got these spots?"
Glaring, Helga sat and gazed at the windows, still lined with small amounts of web. "Cleaning has never been my strong suit; make a mean dinner? I'm your girl. Change the password on your computer? It wasn't me," she smirked, earning a wry stare from the now web covered boy. "But cleaning? Nope. Perhaps you would prefer if I simply left the webs in place? You do an ever so great job."
Arnold didn't look, but he could almost hear the batting lashes behind him. "Well, that looks like the last of them."
Helga grinned, grabbing the chair behind her. Arnold came to rest on his bed and began wiping away the strands from his face, ignoring the fact that Helga had now moved herself to within inches of his face. "When were you going to tell me about the cut? You know I can't stand to see you bleed," she whispered.
Arnold mumbled being fine, to which Helga shook her head and leant back. If she hadn't known him better, she would have tried to coax it out of him.
"When are you going to tell your parents about…"
Arnold's eyes shot up. "Tell them about what?"
"You know…" she stared.
"Know what?"
Helga groaned. "Do I have to make it so obvious Arnold?"
Arnold looked at her quizzically before it dawned on him. "Oh. You mean that…I don't know; I hadn't worked out how to explain it to them yet."
"Well, you might want to do it quickly; neither them nor I can wait here forever," Helga laughed.
"You only want me to move out so you can have the larger room," Arnold grinned, earning a mock surprise.
"How could you say that about me Arnold? Have we not been through the toughest of times? I am appalled that you would even begin to suggest such a callous and inhumane act. Why, what must you think of me?"
Arnold watched the blonde-haired girl twirl dramatically before falling to the ground, her hand stretched out to cover her face. "You wrote it on the note and left it on my door yesterday."
Chuckling at the genius of her move, Helga resumed her spot on the chair, moving ever closer to Arnold. "You know me too well. Besides, what's wrong with a little bit of dreaming? I could do so much to this room. A little bit of paint change here, another closet over there and before you know it…"
Arnold smiled: Helga could daydream with the best. Removing another web from his hair, Arnold looked around the room and sighed inwardly. He had known for a while that once school had finished he would have to work out what to do next. No one in the year had moved as quickly as Harold or Phoebe: both were either working or had begun studying before school had even finished. A few of the others had begun trying their hand at both, but Arnold couldn't shake his dread. Neither of his parents knew what he was going to do yet, and nor did he. He'd thought study was the most logical next step, but even then he wasn't sure.
Eyes wandering towards the photos that lined his wall, Arnold felt a pang of regret when he came upon the latest set: he had stood in a lot, covered in sweat, with a bruised chin and goofy grin spread across his face. Eyes shining to the camera, a blonde girl of roughly the same height stood with him, arm around his shoulder and hair as messy and entangled as his. Both sported brilliant white shirts, now drenched, but set against the beach behind them. Summer had been terribly hot, and while he remembered that freshness of the water behind, Arnold knew why he couldn't make his mind up yet. There was still so much to do.
"Arnold?"
Focusing on her, Arnold tried offering an apology but was met by a shaking head. "I know it weighs you down. We don't need to talk about it yet. But promise you'll find me when its time, right?"
He nodded. "Should we get it over and done with?"
Helga stood up, stretching and letting the baggy shirt fall down over her. "Just smile properly this time; no goofy grins."
Arnold stood beside her and looked down at the camera in her hand. Aiming below their faces, he was about to protest when he caught sight of the sky above: brilliant streaks of crimson had begun mixing with the orange overhead. Holding in his urge to laugh, Arnold saw the screen flicker before returning to the picture above.
D & F
Growls. Gurgles. Helga groaned. She hadn't eaten for a few hours. After moving all of the boxes out of Arnold's room and shifting around her own room, Helga wished for nothing more than some food. It wasn't like she was a machine or something. Arnold had continued on, caught looking through some old book she couldn't remember the name of, insisting she go and eat. Coming to stand still at the top of his stairs however, Helga couldn't help but wonder why he'd been so keen to stay.
Shuffling could be heard below as Helga graced the stairwell. Ignoring the constant chat and muffled shouts of the other house patrons, Helga squeezed around the boxes, rushing through the landing and down towards the kitchen. A smell of freshly cooked bacon and something she hadn't smelt before greeted her, a flickering smile growing when an old greying head turned, beamed, and resumed cooking. Wrapping one arm around her shoulders, Helga gazed at the cooking before her.
"What are you cooking this time, Grandma?" Helga asked softly.
"Another delectable and appeasing meal. I could hear the boxes slamming upstairs, so I guessed that you and Arnold might like a meal. Besides, it's almost dinner time for Phil and I."
Helga squeezed her shoulder gently and turned around. A familiar blonde-haired woman, older and more fragile than Helga, wandered into the kitchen, a worn smile flashed before making her way to the table. Moving instinctually, Helga saddled up beside the older woman and helped ease her into the chair.
"Here you go mum," she added gently.
"It's okay Helga, I can manage this myself," she replied, brushing away the hands that had inched the chair closer to the table for her. "Why don't you go and get something to eat?"
Helga felt it only for a moment: a sharp barb, little, but effective. She ignored it and moved back to Gertie. No one else spoke for a while until Arnold came bounding in, his shirt now neatly tucked but hair still a mess. In one movement Helga and Arnold set to work, clearing the papers off the table and returning it to some sort of semblance of a dining table. Helga glanced a few times, hoping to catch her mother's eyes, but the familiar blank stare at the table greeted her each time.
Arnold quietly poured some water and passed it to her. Miriam looked up and beamed brightly for a moment before passing it to Helga. With plates of all sizes, Gertie sat one down before each person. Helga, still puzzled about the other meat on her plate, gratefully tucked in. Slightly rubbery, but tasty all the same, she was about to take another bite when Arnold finally asked.
"Grandma is this liver?" he queried, eying the now suspicious dinner.
"A growing boy and girl need all the iron they can get; you won't build muscles with salad alone!" Gertie proclaimed proudly, flexing her own muscles. "Besides, Phil and I both need the iron too. Although that reminds me…PHIL!"
Quickly swallowing the last bite, Helga grimaced while Arnold shrugged his shoulders and began eating. Footsteps above became louder, as did the mutterings underneath his breath. Phil burst into the kitchen and sat down quickly, sniffing before eying Gertie suspiciously. "Liver?"
Gertie simply nodded and continued cutting her meat, delicately placing it into her mouth. "You need all the iron you can get and its good for you."
"Good for me? This poor animal needn't have given this up for my benefit. Why if I were a few years younger I would race out and get burgers."
"Then it's a good thing you aren't. Eat it."
Arnold and Helga chuckled softly, enough for a glaring eye from Phil who relinquished and began eating. "Thank you for dinner Pookie."
A quick smile spread across her lips before Gertie continued on. For a while the conversation drifted to the boxes and when they would be removed and whether the two of them had finally finished the cleaning. Helga took another bite and nodded. Arnold had done most of the talking tonight, which meant she was the first one to finish. Stretching and finding a few more cracks, Helga looked around the table and smiled. It was nice to still have this, even after school had finished.
"Could you pass me the salt Helga?" Arnold asked.
Helga reached for it but was stopped by Miriam. "No worries Arnold."
Miriam picked up the salt, squeezing it tightly. Helga watched as the salt moved slowly and shakily to Arnold, before falling to the table with a dull thud. Apologising profusely, Miriam made to scoop up the salt before Gertie quickly gathered it up.
"It must have slipped from my hands," Miriam mumbled.
"Not to worry. I've dropped plenty of salt in my day," Gertie smiled while Phil began cleaning up.
Scooping it up delicately, Helga fixed her mother with a quizzical stare. Arnold, thinking nothing of it, continued eating and resumed discussing how to move the remaining boxes out. Phil had a suggestion about a rubbish dump, while Gertie had suggested they try launching them as far as possible. Helga thought neither of those ideas were bad, but noticed Miriam seemed to slow down her eating.
"I think I might retire," Miriam eventually mumbled, as the table began to finish.
After a few more apologises, Helga followed Miriam back up the stairs and to the room. Slight missteps; grabbing the railing tightly; Helga knew what had happened. It was only made worse when she opened the door and was greeted with a smell all too familiar to her. Grabbing the nearest empty bottle, Helga placed it quickly into the bin.
"How many this time Miriam?" Helga rounded on her once her mother sat sullenly in the seat.
"I was only trying to help," she whispered.
"Help? Miriam, you spilt salt tonight. The others might not see it or excuse it, but I know why you did that. So, I will ask again: how many did you have tonight?"
Miriam glared, the small bloodshot veins beginning to grow in her eyes. "Helga, I can have as many drinks as I want, and no one can tell me otherwise. I'm the parent and I get to make the choices."
Helga closed her eyes and gently pushed her mother's pointing finger down. "Of course, you can, but you're not acting like one."
"Says who?"
Helga huffed. "If you want to drink, fine, but don't let it make you look like a clumsy fool. You barely spoke tonight, let alone engaged with me at all today. Did you even notice Arnold and I had been cleaning all day?"
Miriam slumped back further into her chair. "You don't understand."
Looking around the room, Helga made out the remains of half-finished bottles and a few empty ones. One to two bottles maybe…but even this is a bit much for Miriam, thought Helga, collecting a few more and putting them back into the cabinet. Noticing the dust on top of the cabinet and strewn items everywhere, Helga checked around and realised that the empty bottles were the least of her concerns. Papers lay on top of most surfaces, clothes thrown haphazardly around on chairs, while cups lay either on their sides or on top of everything else.
"When was the last time you gave this place a clean?" Helga asked, noticing her mother's more relaxed appearance.
"Must have been…last week? No, two weeks ago…maybe it was last month. I don't remember," she mumbled, the familiar drooping of her eyes confirming to Helga that she wasn't going to get anything further from her tonight.
Grabbing the nearest blanket, she carefully placed it over her mother and began tidying up. Before long she had made a sizable dent in it, but without the lights on, Helga knew she could only do so much tonight. Helga stopped by her mother and paused, gazing across the features of a once beautiful and strong woman. Kissing her gently on her forehead, Helga strode out of the room and off to her own, determined to get rid of the rubbish.
D & F
"Are you sure she won't mind us doing this Helga?"
Helga threw another screwed-up ball into the outstretched garbage bag and smiled. "She won't notice much. Besides, she will be gone for a few more hours and we're nearly done."
"Yeah, but when you said we should do something fun today to take our minds off of cleaning yesterday, this wasn't what I had envisaged."
Helga sniggered. "Quit whining football head. I already owe you."
Arnold agreed: she did. Folding the box lid up, Arnold took it to the bedroom and placed it into the cupboard. Old piles of clothes and other objects sat perfectly still. Tempted to throw most of them out, Arnold heard a muffled call from Helga to come out. However, a small piece of red under the clothes caught his eye. Pulling it carefully, Arnold could feel it budge. Tugging gently, a small red folder greeted Arnold, with a title 'Photos'.
Helga, annoyed Arnold hadn't responded yet, stomped into the bedroom. A red folder was opened in his hands, with small pictures he smiled at. "Arnold what are you doing?"
Fumbling, Arnold caught the folder and shut it. "Photos, old photos. Did you know she had them?"
Helga shook her head. "I thought she got rid of them a long time ago. Besides, they're probably of her before she got married."
Arnold shook his head. "They're of you as a baby Helga. Do you want to see them?"
"Why would I want to see them? I've got better things to do, like getting ice-cream once we're done," she smirked.
Arnold followed her out, stashing the photos away before catching another large bag of rubbish to toss into the loft. For a while Arnold and Helga silently tossed out more rubbish, wiping down benches and surfaces until the room began to feel like a home again. With a final shot, Helga wiped the sweat from her brow and looked around. The room itself smelt far nicer than the musty old smell of before. Small patches remained untouched, but she could sleep well knowing it was far more habitable than last night.
Grabbing the last of the large bags, Arnold tied it up and tossed it outside. The room itself was looking far better than earlier, with at least half a dozen bags now filled with either paper or general rubbish. He didn't know how Miriam hadn't noticed the state of the room, but then again, he knew better than to make guesses. Holding the dumped stack of newspapers, Arnold's arms began to give out under the weight of the extra magazines Helga stashed on top.
"Make sure its chocolate this time Helga."
Peering around the mountainous pile in his arms, Helga winked before poking him in the side. A thunderous crash could be heard across the boarding house as Arnold chased after Helga, dodging a confused Abner and dashing up the stairs. Doors opened and slammed shut. Helga grabbed onto the side, climbing quickly, to avoid a diving Arnold. Tumbling onto the bed, Arnold jumped up. Following after her, Arnold burst out onto the rooftop to find it empty and no Helga in sight.
Arnold moved quietly. She was still here. Slow steps passed as he inched towards the only cover on the roof. He dared not make a sound. A few of the pigeons fluttered by, but he remained silent. Arnold was determined not to lose this game. Arnold stopped, now mere metres away. This was it. He had her cornered. Rushing around the side, Arnold stopped. No face greeted him, but a young woman, sitting down staring at the houses around them.
"Helga?"
"I'm fine Arnold," Helga mumbled, turning away. Sitting beside her, Arnold wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"You know I can tell if you're not, right? I think we've lived together long enough now," he chuckled. Helga remained motionless.
"Helga, if it's something – "
"You can't."
"At least let me – "
"It's one of those times Arnold," she snapped, staring firmly into his eyes.
Arnold sighed and nodded. Without another word the two stayed still, watching the setting sun of the afternoon drift slowly to its daily rest. He tried to think of why she didn't want to talk, but Arnold knew better than to push this. Helga would talk when she was ready. Nestling in closer to him, Helga shivered slightly in the evening air.
"Thank you, Arnold."
Small leaves danced and twirled in the growing winds, fluttering above them while the stars started to shine. Every now and then one would catch the light and sparkle, momentarily, before continuing its final dance. One by one they continued to fall to the ground. Reaching out for the nearest one, he picked it up and admired it before letting it go into the winds once more. Holding her tightly, Arnold nodded. "Don't forget though; you still owe me ice-cream Helga," he whispered softly, earning another poke in his ribs.
"I'll never forget, Arnold."