Author's Note: I do not own these characters. But I do love them.
This story does not follow the Jungle Movie - think of that as a dream. This is post FTi only.

13.

"Yeah, Eugene, I got it." Arnold said as he ushered the red headed boy out of the journalism workspace.

"Ok - thank you, Arnold! I just am really hoping that we - we get a good showing at auditions. Please, please make it look good." He was rambling - Eugene knew he was rambling, but this was his last chance to save the theatre club before he graduates. If he didn't get the numbers for the full cast of the spring play, Rats the Musical, Principal Horace was going to pull the club's funding.

"I know, Eugene!"

"I mean, my whole life is in your hands, Arnold."

Arnold looked at Eugene for one more moment, he could see the desperation in his eyes. Arnold could almost feel the weight of Eugene's life fall into his pocket.

"Great." Arnold abruptly shut the door. Arnold turned around, the flier for auditions still in his hands. He tossed it onto the table where Nadine was piecing together a layout.

"The drama!" Nadine said nonchalantly.

"I know - but they really do need help. They are the saddest excuse for a theatre troop I've ever seen." Slowly, he started putting his stuff into his bag, ready to go home for the day.

"You seen many theatre troops, then have ya?" Nadine didn't need to look up from her work to convey her sarcasm. Her dry tone always conveyed what she wanted it to.

"Well - no. But I can do math. And I know that 7 tone-deaf kids are not enough to put on Rats the Musical - which has," Arnold snatched up the flier again, "an ensemble of 20!? 20!? This is insane."

"You really have your work cut out for you this time, Arnold." Nadine said, sipping at a Yahoo soda. She lifted her eyes and was surprised to find Arnold staring at the flier with a furrowed brow. He was forming a thought that didn't seem to want to come. Waiting for - what? - revelations?

"No" he said, "this isn't on me. I mean, yes, we will put it in the paper - but - I'm not gonna go out of my way to save what Eugene couldn't." He put the paper down decisively, wrote a little note for tomorrow's to do list, and turned to leave.

"Who is this steadfast man of stone?" Nadine exclaimed. Arnold chuckled softly.

"The world won't end if I'm not the hero of this story." He threw a wave to Nadine. "Don't stay too late."

"Yeah, yeah. See ya, Arnold."

Arnold felt his chest relax - he was proud of himself. He worked hard to not think Helga would be proud too. He was still mad at her and he thought he might stay mad a while longer. The memory of lunch floated through his mind next - all fast and confusing as it was.

At that same time, around 4:45pm, Helga was walking out of the gym, freshly rinsed off after boxing. She touched just below her right eye gingerly. It was puffy and deep purple and warm to the touch. She winced then smiled - worth it.

Helga pulled out her phone as she approached the trophy case near the front of the school. Phoebe was nowhere to be seen. Which was weird because debate ended at 4pm and she said she would wait. Helga texted Larry's Dawg Haus awaits. Where you at, Foe-Be?

She heard footsteps coming down the hall and Helga prepped for the possibility of Dustin approaching. But then -

"Helga, what happened?!"

His voice shocked her, but that was nothing to the spine tingling sensation of Arnold's warm hand sliding quickly up her cheek and pulling Helga's face ever so slightly toward his.

"Wha - what?" Helga had no idea what was going on, or what he was talking about, or what fucking planet she was on. All she could see was the swimming green eyes of her beloved - I mean, that football head.

"Your eye, what happened?" His thumb edged right around the bruise without touching the swollen area. "It looks really bad. Your eye is bloodshot!"

"It's ok, Arnold, really." Helga said this with a calm, steady voice, as she gently (and regretfully) dismissed his hand from her face. Standing up straight, she did her best to mask her face with stony nonchalance - anything but the besotted, smitten school girl she really was.

"But Helga -"

"Seriously. Boxing. I'm fine." He visibly relaxed, apparently he'd forgotten about boxing. He led a far less violent life than Helga and was easily shocked at bruising like this.

"Ok, if you say so." For a moment Helga and Arnold stood together, sharing air and space. He wasn't quite convinced she was alright, and Arnold's gaze made Helga's brain too fuzzy to move. She did eventually manage to clear her throat. This broke the spell and he took a step back, having realized how close he was standing. Helga watched him set his face, as he remembered he was mad at her.

"I'm really sorry - about earlier, I mean." It was Arnold's turn to be shocked. "That was pretty messed up. I just - "

"Thanks, Helga. It's ok." He was impressed - there was no other word for it. Helga had never apologized unbidden or without a lot of drama. Not to him. So, yeah. It was ok. He felt that little nugget he was just holding onto, dissipate. He found he wasn't mad anymore.

"I was out of line and I let Dustin get to me. He's such a dick, but I didn't need to -"

"I get it, I think. Or maybe I don't but - Seriously," Arnold said, echoing her. "It's ok."

Helga stayed silent for a moment, just taking him in. Letting the air become easy - but of course she couldn't stand for that too long. "Ever so gracious of you, Arnoldo," she said in her best Lila impression. This made him laugh a little, letting him off the hook too.

"Yeah, well - we've been through worse, honestly." He shook his head, a smile on his face, and he took a step around her toward the door. "You walking home?"

Was he really asking Helga to walk home - again? Helga had spent more one on one time with Arnold in the last three days than she had in the last three years. Helga's heart was rattling around in her chest again as she turned to face him.

"No - I, uh - I'm actually waiting for Pheebs. We have a Larry's Dawg Haus date, so -" Helga reached for her phone, hoping for news.

"Oh - that sounds great. I love their onion rings."

"Yeah - Oh." Phoebe had texted back. "She, uh, she went home, actually. Says she wasn't feeling good so she skipped debate." Helga read out. She had a fleeting thought - weird. Maybe I should go check on her, when another text came through

Don't bother coming over. I'm going to take a nap. And Mother's making my favorite. See you in the morning. Love you, Ell-Ga.

"Do you need to go che-" Arnold had the same thought.

"She just said not to…" Helga cut him off and they both found themselves in another lull, a little less comfortable than the last. Then abruptly, "I guess I'll see you later, football head."

Helga dismissed herself to walk around him, this time.

"Are you still gonna go to Larry's?"

"Yeah, I'm starving," Helga said. It occurred to her that Arnold might be asking if he can come. Maybe? No, no… he wouldn't be asking to hang out again, right? That would be too good to be true.

Arnold had no idea what he was doing. Two minutes ago he had resolved to be angry with this girl and now he had this strange impulse to - what? - have dinner with her? I mean, I'm hungry too. Didn't really have lunch. Why is this weird? Why is my heart racing?

"Did you - uh - wanna tag along?" Helga broke the silence. Anyone watching would see a slightly awkward, but fairly normal exchange between two tired classmates after a long Monday. Inside the exchange, however, both of them would agree that this moment seemed to stretch on into an expansive void. Like, something just happened to the fabric of spacetime, right? What was going on?

"Just answer the question, Hair Boy!" Helga snapped.

"Yeah." He said with a tiny little jump. "Yeah, I'm pretty hungry actually."

"Well you didn't really get to eat earlier." She repeated his thoughts. He noted that. Helga turned to start walking out. "Let's go then! What are you waitin' for?"

He shuffled after her, a small smile on his face. In front of him, Helga was trying to get her face under control before he could see the blush.

14.

Phoebe felt like absolute shit. She didn't really like that nasty turn of phrase - but it was the only one that rang true. Sure, she'd lied to Helga before, but this specific mixture of dishonesty with her best friend and the Gerald-based shame she had been trying to cram away for hours now really drained her of any and all energy.

Phoebe hadn't said anything else to Gerald to be ashamed of, but only because she didn't say anything else at all. After their free period in the library, she had darted out before he could attempt to figure out what the fuck was going on. It's all too much. She knew she had to deal with this sooner or later, but now she had snapped at him, and made him feel bad, and he had officially noticed that something was really very wrong.

Babe, seriously. Are you ok? I'm starting to freak out here.

Gerald had been texting her since she disappeared. Phoebe read each of them, then put the phone down. He even called - twice. She let them go to voicemail. He didn't leave one though.

Phoebe!

The girl was almost 18, but at that moment, she felt so small. Sitting on her bed, Phoebe had her knees pulled up to chest, fuzzy pajama pants and thick wool socks making her feel feverish. Across the room, pinned to the wall was a pennant flag for Quinceton. Gerald had gotten it for her the day she completed her application. He'd actually gotten one for himself too - at the time, it felt right.

They were sitting in this room, a little less than a year before. Phoebe stared at her laptop scrolling up and down and up and down again. She was double, triple, quadruple checking that all of her materials for her Quinceton application were attached and formatted correctly. That day alone she had made Gerald read her essays twice each and once out loud.

"Baby, look at me," Gerald's voice had been warm and soft. Phoebe was still twitching her hand across the mousepad as she turned toward him. He picked her twitching hand up, then the other (which was also twitching to be fair) and squeezed them both firmly. When he had her gaze he said "Ok. Take a breath with me. In - " he inhaled audibly, a long slow breath.

Phoebe nodded her head curtly and obliged - with a very tiny gasp in. He giggled.

"Let's try that again. IN - " he squeezed her hands and lifted them. She took in more air this time. "Good. Now, OUT - " he blew out through his mouth. She followed his lead. They took another breath, and another, and another. Each a little slower and a little fuller.

Gerald reached out his hand to her cheek, stroking it, seeing that her heart rate was slowly lowering. "I was going to wait till after, but - " Gerald reached around and pulled out a small bag. "I got these for us."

Phoebe was breathing now, but the release brought a tear to her eye. "Oh, Gerald you didn't have to…" She opened the bag and pulled out a simple felted triangle, and then another. Both in the brown and white colors of her dream school. "Two?"

"Yeah," Gerald took one of the pennants. "This is where you are meant to be. And where you are, is where I'm meant to be too. I turned in my application this morning."

"But - but, what about Perkley? Their sports management program."

"I know, I know. I applied there too. But I could get any job in any field I want if I went to Quinceton - it's not exactly a bad option."

"But - "

"Look, I know how intense and stressful this whole process has been. You've been working practically your whole life for this application - but I have been watching as you agonize over being good enough, over being on your own at college, ov-over what will happen to us!" Phoebe suddenly shook her head. "Let me finish. I know that you are amazing and strong and the smartest person on this whole planet. I can't help you know that stuff and I can't tell you what will happen, but what I can offer is - well - a promise that I will do whatever it takes to always be there, cheering you on. If having me at school with you will relieve the pressure even a little, I want to do that. I want to stand by you. I love you, Phoebe."

Phoebe remembers tears fully flooding her eyes then as she threw herself into his arms. He asked if she would like him to hit submit and she nodded and nuzzled deeper into his chest.

Gerald was the only one, ever - like ever ever - that saw the way stress and pressure filled her up and seeped out of her. He saw her struggle while others admired her work ethic. He let her be tired and lean against him. He didn't ask for anything more than just to sit with her - to share her space. And she loved him for it. She really really loved him.

And now she was hurting him.

She had gotten up to stand by her window. She found that she had been holding her pennant between her fingers and spacing out into middle distance for almost fifteen minutes. In that time, she didn't see that Gerald had texted one last time.

If you don't answer, I'm coming to you. You can't shut me out.

She didn't see her phone light up. Instead she saw her boyfriend taking the steps up to her front door two at a time. By the time she registered what was going on, Reba could be heard warmly welcoming Gerald inside.

No point in resisting it now. He'll be upstairs straight away. Phoebe resigned to it. It was time.

15.

Helga and Arnold walked into the early October afternoon.

"Nice day," Arnold said reflexively.

"Yeah - I guess." Helga said. It was awkward again. Again! Why? They walked in silence for a moment, heading toward Larry's. Helga looked sideways at the boy next to her. His hair was golden in autumn light and the old flannel collar around his neck looked worn and cozy - and Helga was staring for a moment too long. Ok, focus! Helga snapped back forward.

They crossed the street and Helga stepped ahead. Arnold caught himself studying the baby hairs at the knape of Helga's neck. They were a dark blonde and curled with sweat - then he stumbled over the curb.

Helga grabbed him at his elbow and steadied him.

"Why is this awkward?" Arnold spat out. Helga burst out laughing.

"I don't know, football head." Helga turned to keep walking.

"We've known each other for literally fifteen years - " Arnold had a laugh in his voice and it calmed Helga.

"I could punch you really hard, or trip you? That might restore balance." Ah, there we go - they were both laughing and things were easy again.

"I haven't been punched since - seriously punched - since probably," Arnold wondered aloud, "the football game between Ludwig and Wolfgang. You remember that?"

"Ha - god, you really pulled us into the shit on that one."

"Hey, Helga!" Both Arnold and Helga snapped their attention to the left. Coming down the street was -

"Well, if it isn't Jeremy." Arnold said out of the side of his mouth.

"Shut. The fuck. Up." Helga actually reached out and socked Arnold in the arm. "Hey, Jeremy, you gangly motherfucker, how's it hangin?"

Jeremy was in fact a gangly motherfucker with dark shaggy hair, thick rimmed glasses, and clothes that were a little too short for his growth spurt. He still had his backpack on and a longboard under his arm. He was a good combination of gawky and confident, and Helga had to admit he was fun to talk to.

"Oh, ya know - headed to the park for a little skate about. Oh god what happened to your eye!?" Jeremy's eyes went wide once he fully took her in.

"Oh my god - it's nothing! Boxing!"

"Right, right! Badass. It's uh - " he looked Helga up and down in a very small shy kind of way, "It's been a long time since we hung out." Then with a furtive glance to Arnold he said, "Hey Arnold."

"Hey Jeremy, good to see ya."

"Yeah, you too." With the pleasantry out of the way, Jeremy turned back to Helga. "Do you still have that book I lent you? Grasslands of -"

"Grasslands of Pain, yeah, yeah. I have it back at home. It was really good, I've been meaning to text you about it." Helga leaned in casually and the two exchanged hot takes and snide remarks about the book Arnold had never heard of. He instead focused on the vibrant energy the two had about them. It was clear there was something between them, in fact he'd never seen Helga chatter like this - had he?

"Anyway, I was wondering if I could swing by sometime and - uh - pick it up?" Arnold sensed a small nervousness in him - flirting? An excuse to see her again?

"Oh, yeah - sure! Anytime this week, I'll be home - " But Jeremy jumped in again.

"I was actually wondering if I could stop by tonight?" Jeremy's eyes flitted over Arnold again. "If that's not too weird. I could bring by some ointment for your eye - if you want."

"Okay - um. Yeah, I mean I'll probably be home in like - " Helga looked to Arnold now, uncertain of how long their dinner (date? No, not date. Oh my god) would take. "An hour or so?"

"Rad! I'll see you then. Later guys." With that, Jeremy dropped his longboard, jumped on and rolled off in the direction of the park.

The two watched Jeremy sway dangerously as he rolled away. And in the silence, Arnold said -

"Rad."

"Shut up, football head." Helga kept walking.

"Come on, he obviously really likes you!"

"Are we really still talking about this?" Helga's cheeks were getting hot. It was a mistake to tell Arnold about Jeremy, or anyone. People don't need to know things about her. How could she be so stupid?

"I'm just saying - you two were so chatty - it was nice to see you like that."

"Oh my god, Arnold. Stop!" Helga snapped without looking at him. Arnold could see the blush on her face, smiled to himself and put his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry! I'll stop… it was just cute how nervous he was!"

"I swear to god!" But there was a lilt in Helga's voice as she shoved him to the side, so Arnold knew he was in the clear.