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.

16.

"Phoebe, it's me. I'm coming in!" Gerald said from the top of the stairs, as he charged across the hall and into her room. He was obviously flustered. And maybe - had he been crying?

Phoebe just stood there, looking at him and Gerald stood there and stared back. He widened his eyes at her, asking her to say something first. But Phoebe just dropped her gaze.

"What the hell is going on? You are scaring the shit out of me! This - this isn't how we talk, Phoebe. This is - this - I'm just so lost!" He wanted her to look at him, to say something, or even cry! Anything to relieve the pressure. But she was stone.

Phoebe knelt down at the short table nearby. Her hands were trembling with adrenaline, so she clasped them in her lap.

Finally, she said "Will you sit down?"

"No - no. I don't think I can." Gerald was slowly turning his face away, eyeing her from the side, afraid to look at her dead on. Was - was she breaking up with him? No! That's crazy.

"You shouldn't go to Quinceton." She said it softly, small, right into her lap.

"What?" Gerald said.

"I said, you shouldn't go - "

"No, I heard you. I just don't understand." Gerald took steps closer to her. "We have a plan."

"I know, but - it's not for me. I mean - " All of Phoebe's thoughts and logic was glitching out. Her arguments were failing. "I just mean - I think that you…"

"You don't think I can get in?" Gerald spat.

"No!"

"Seriously?"

"No, that's not what I meant!" Phoebe was looking at him now, her eyes filled with panic.

"They are still sending out acceptance letters, I still have a chance!"

"I know - but - "

"I'm an honors student, Phoebe! I may not be as smart as you, but I'm no idiot! I - I - I thought you wanted me there? I thought we wanted to go to college together! I thought - "

"This isn't about me, I'm trying to say - Perkley! The sports management program. You - you… I mean." Phoebe could never get her words out in times like this.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing! Are you breaking up with me? You were just waiting for college to end it for you - so you didn't have to do the dirty work? I mean, I want you to have your journey - I just thought we were on it together. I don't understand! No - "

"Gerald! No!"

"I ca-can't do this right now. I gotta go." Gerald was backing up, his eyes swimming, his ears were burning. He turned and flew down the stairs, his feet tumbling over and over themselves. Fears he had ignored for the last year flooded every sense so he didn't hear Phoebe sobbing his name at the top of the stairs.

17.

"Jesus Fuckin' Christ, Blondie!" The large man behind the counter bellowed as Helga and Arnold walked into the Dawg Haus. "What the hell happened to your face?"

"You kiss your wife with that mouth, Larry? Mind yer business!" Helga snarled back at him and she walked to a back booth automatically.

"Yeah, yeah! Usual, kiddo?"

"You know it, old man!" So many nicknames! Helga was smiling now.

"Where's Glasses?" Larry was already dropping two large corn dogs and a handful of curly fries into the fryer.

"Don't worry, your golden child is just home sick. I've got the football head here for company today." Helga slid herself into the booth and kicked her feet up onto the seat.

"Yeah, I see that - What'll you have, football face?" As far as Arnold could tell the name calling meant he was being tolerated, if not accepted, into the club for the afternoon.

"Hi! Yeah, could I get a large order of onion rings and a cheese burger, please?"

"Please?" Larry said, as he turned to start the order. "Polite kid. What're you doin with this hoodlum?"

Helga spat back about her glowing reputation and friendly demeanor. Arnold hadn't been here in awhile, but a quick look around told him not much had changed. The walls were striped yellow and red in old grease stained wood paneling. Pictures of semi famous people eating some of Larry's Dawgs served as decor - Dino Spumoni, Mickey Kaline, and Monkey Man all included. One wall was just old flyers for anniversary events with anthropomorphic hot dogs dancing around on them, each framed and hung with love.

"So you're here, like, a lot." Arnold settled into his seat.

"Only, 3-4 times a week. I think."

"Wow -" Arnold snapped his gaze to Helga in genuine surprise.

"What? It's not like there's much to eat at home." Helga pulled out a phone charger and leaned down to plug it in, clearly at home in the action. Arnold stayed quiet, not quite sure what to say. "Come on, Arnold. Everyone knows Miriam and Bob aren't up for Parents of the Year."

Arnold chuckled uncomfortably. Sure, he knew. Everyone knew. But he didn't think this was an invitation for Arnold to express his deep concern about the neglect Helga suffers. She'd tell him to stuff it even if he had.

Helga took out a small pink journal and started jotting something down. Arnold took the cue, this was time to occupy himself a little. He pulled out his little field sketchbook - it was a well worn leather book with smooth pages. If you were to flip through the book you'd see ideas and drafts for the newspaper funnies, some goofy cartoons of Arnold and Gerald doing stupid stuff, a couple of studies of the trees outside the window in his history class, and a handful of sketches of strangers in the park. Arnold looked toward Larry and started laying down the curve of his back over the fryer.

Helga was writing frantically, thoughts that she had been strangling since they left the school.

Oh fated evening of my soul.

My love has joined me by choice!

It goes on like that for a while, lines that took shape on their own as they walked side by side all the way there.

"So Jeremy - " Arnold blurted out, eyes darting between the sketchbook and Larry.

"Oh my god! Arnold - "

"Seriously! He is going to ask you to homecoming. I can feel it!" Helga finally noticed he was sketching as she finished the last line (that our lips may meet again one day) and shoved the notebook back in her bag. It was a risk taking it out - but she was bursting with inspiration and love and honestly, if she hadn't done this she very likely would have said something stupid.

"No he's not!" She said, though she was a tad delayed as she gazed at him a little too long. His eyes were half-lidded in a relaxed soft focus - intoxicating is what it was.

"You guys obviously vibe! And he's even going out of his way to come by today to -"

"He has been asking for his book back for weeks."

"He was leaning in, looking you up and down -"

"Looking for signs of other injuries, no doubt." Helga was trying to wrench her eyes from him, but Arnold was now biting his lip in effort, and it was just too much to handle.

"I don't think that is an argument against my point." Arnold said, looking back at Helga - causing Helga to quickly look away in turn. "What do you think?"

Arnold held up his sketchbook to show his work. A quick gesture sketch, capturing Larry's graceful culinary movements against a scratchy, roughed in background.

"Oh - that's pretty good. You really got his nose." Helga said, surprised.

"Thanks!" Arnold smiled and turned the page and put his pencil to the paper again. "All I'm saying is Jeremy is a sweet guy and he genuinely seems to like you, and isn't too afraid of you. So, you know - "

"He is very afraid of me. Let the record show!"

"So what's the problem? Is he not good at… stuff?" Arnold looked knowingly up at her and definitely caught a blush.

"Here ya go kids!" Larry was proceeded ever so slightly by the scent of peanut oil and salt. He set down two baskets on the table and said "Need anything else, Blondie?"

"Naw, Larry. Looks perfect. As per usual."

"Alright then - go nuts!" And he turned and walked away.

"Thanks, Man," Helga said as she picked up the abnormally large corndog. "Why are you so invested in this Jeremy thing, Arnold?" Helga quickly returned to being frustrated as she turned back to Arnold.

"I'm - I'm not."

"You sure? You won't drop it! I don't even think I'm going to Homecoming. Let it go."

"But I really think he's gonna ask you - " Arnold was hung up, he knew it. One of those things he can't drop till he had convinced the other party of his point, but the heat rising up his neck told him he was treading on dangerous territory with his friend.

"No he's not!"

"You don't know that!"

"No one ever has - it's not gonna happen now!" Helga burst a little. She snapped harder than she meant to. There was an edge in her voice that to the trained ear would register as hurt - and Arnold had the best ears, she knew that.

"Oh -" Arnold was now going cold. He had pushed a little too far. Just gotta move carefully or she'll lock up, he thought. "That's ok - it doesn't mean it will never happen."

Helga just stayed quiet, eating and looking out the window, her heavy brow furrowed just a little. Arnold took the hint to leave it for now and went back to sketching with his left hand and picked up an onion ring with his right.

You don't need to fix it, Arnold, he told himself in the silence. She isn't asking for help. But - she… she's obviously upset. No - it's not my business, that's what she'll say! Take a breath man!

Helga felt her throat tighten at her admission. If she didn't stop talking at that moment she would have shouted or worse, sobbed. What is wrong with me!? Helga said internally. It had never felt so important - but here she was trying not to simultaneously cry in front of Arnold or tear him apart over the exposure of her sad love life. She bit hard down on her lip in between bites of corndog. Get a hold of yourself! Don't be stupid! This is Stupid!

After a long five minutes -

"Hey - " Arnold said it so quiet, Helga wasn't sure she heard it at all. When she took her eyes from the window she saw Arnold sliding his sketchbook over to her. In it was a quick, but elegant sketch of -

"Is that me?" she blurted out a little roughly.

"Yeah!" Arnold chuckled. "Do you not like it?"

"No - no. I mean, yes. It's really," she picked up the book and took a closer look. She was propping her head up on one hand and gazing out the window. Her bruised eye was downplayed, but still there, making her look like a resting badass. He had darkened one side of the image a little more, capturing the gentle evening sunlight on her face. "It's really, really nice."

Helga slid the sketchbook back to him, trying to stifle the dopey grin that was threatening her lips. Oh! My love just sketched me!

"Thanks," Arnold took back the book, smiling. "I really like your nose."

"Ok that's just weird."

"No, seriously! It's a good shape. Love a good nose." He was looking down at the sketch.

"Ha - thanks I guess." Helga was slowly regaining control of her face. "You're such a dweeb, hair boy." She tossed a nub of curly fry at him and he laughed, closing the sketchbook.

18.

Gerald was breathing fast, shallow breaths as he stormed away from Phoebe's. His eyes were not focused because he didn't care where he was going. His thoughts were feverishly turned inward, asking himself What the fuck is going on? What did I do wrong? What? It's over, it's over. It's over. It's over. No, no no no no no it's not.

Behind Gerald, Phoebe's father, Kyo stood on the stoop calling after the young man. Reba had hurried upstairs and wrangled their sob-wracked daughter into her room when Gerald had flung open the front door. Kyo felt dizzy, confused but he did not go after the boy.

In the six years that Gerald and Phoebe had been together there had been fights, of course, but not like this. Not once like this. Gerald was always so proud that he and his girlfriend, his partner, always found a way to talk through the heat of any argument - they always came out the other side stronger. He was proud that this love was flexible, withstanding, and it was real. It was real, wasn't it? Why is this happening? Phoebe…

Gerald found his feet had started running, running, running! He was sweating as the world was coming back into focus, out of breath and overheated. He stopped on an empty corner. For a moment there were no cars, no birdsong, no kids in the road - everything was still and quiet, except for Gerald's ragged breathing. He clutched at his chest through the thick layer of his hoodie, and the impact of his hand shook loose a choked cry. Tears stung his eyes. He looked around distractedly, trying to discern where he was.

As Gerald slowly came back to his body, just slightly out of the fog of panic, he realized he had run in the wrong direction. He was just north of downtown now, at least 20 city blocks away from his home, 15 from Arnold's, and at that moment, his phone buzzed alerting him to the 5% battery left on his phone.

"Fuck!" Hands on his face, Gerald whirled around looking for a bus stop. There.

He crossed the street to a bus shelter and looked at the app on his phone for the next bus.

Next uptown bus - 20 minutes out.

Great

4% battery.

Fuck!

He paced in a circle for just a moment, a spiral, full of the chaotic frenzy he was feeling, then forced himself to sit. Breathe in - Breathe out. In. Out.

Looking at his phone again, Gerald realized that Phoebe hadn't tried to reach him. She let him go. Did she - Phoebe. She just let me leave.

"I can't do this," He whispered to himself, not sure what this was exactly. "Just get home. Just get home for now."

Another breath, he sat up straight, and checked the app again. 23 minutes out.

"Fuck!" Another spazm of anger, frustration shook through Gerald's body. He was feeling so much, all over. It was completely overwhelming. Breathe in. Out.

What can I do?

"Arnold!"

Hey man, where are you right now?

3% battery.

Fuck! And suddenly, the street was once again filled with cars, pedestrians, and noise, noise, noise to drown out Gerald's thoughts.

19.

"See you later, Larry! Say hi to Velma for me!" Helga shouted over her shoulder as they left the Dawg Haus.

"So what happened after you crashed into the cornfield?" Arnold asked, following Helga out the door.

"Well, my mom wakes up in the passenger seat and is so confused, obviously."

"I bet!" Arnold was rapt in her story and Helga fed off his attention.

"And I loudly say, 'Oh, good morning, glory!' She wasn't drunk anymore, but she was very hungover. She didn't remember inviting that guy into our hotel room." The smile was fading from her face now.

"Oh my god."

"Yeah, I explained how I had to get us out of there, she just said 'You crashed the car.' No apology, no checking to see if I'm ok. I just saved us from being abducted, but fuck me right? So we switch seats so she can drive us the rest of the way across Kansas, but when she tried to start the car - "

"No," Arnold said as he anticipated the next tragedy.

"Yeah - somehow I had gotten a couple cobs stuck up in the transmission or something. And I had driven for a good hour and half - so we were close to nothing!"

"Of course."

"Several hours, a lot of money, a creepy tow truck driver, and a very shitty phone call with my dad later we were back on the road. And now it is an unspoken family rule that Helga crashes into cornfields so Helga doesn't get to drive anymore." The two were walking lazily back toward Helga's now, not sure of the time, phones tucked away and forgotten. "So no, I haven't gotten my license because no one will take me or let me use their car."

"Does your mom even have a valid license currently?"

"Good catch - no, she sure fucking doesn't," Helga giggled dismally.

"That really sucks… it wasn't even your fault." Arnold really couldn't believe people like the Pataki's had kids. It didn't seem fair.

"Wrong, football head - everything is my fault. That is a universal truth in the Pataki household." She clapped him on the back, letting her hand linger there a moment.

Arnold fell behind just a little as a thought crossed his mind - "I could take you." Ope, nope, that was out loud. Helga looked back at him confused.

"Take me where?"

"To get your license. You could use the Packard." Arnold was catching up now and Helga was laughing.

"No Fucking Way - I can't drive that ancient rust bucket!" She was more relaxed now, making fun of him, sure, but he could tell that she was at ease. Watching her laugh and poke at him, he realized he'd been aiming at this the whole afternoon.

Maybe that's not so healthy he thought, considering if this goal had more to do with calming an unpredictable storm, or if he just really liked her laugh. Regardless, Arnold was vaguely aware that this had been a strange few days for the pair. She really did have a nice smile though.

The two chatted easily about the pros and cons of learning to drive stick shift in the Packard. If Arnold didn't seem like a suitable teacher, his grandmother could always jump in. Helga said that if she ever had a death wish she would be sure to give Gertie a call. Arnold caught that Helga remembered his grandmother's name.

As they approached Helga's house, they could just make out the top of a mop of dark hair over the wall of the stoop.

"Moment of truth," whispered Arnold. Helga stopped abruptly and turned to Arnold, looking him dead in the eye.

"Time to face defeat, football head. I know him better than you do."

"Well I don't doubt that," he said with a sly grin, prompting Helga to reach up a hand and pinch his cheek hard.

"You should be thanking your chosen god that I haven't punched you in the face today."

"You could - then we'd have matching shiners," he said as he wrenched his cheek free of her grasp. She laughed, pushing him from her and turned back toward her guest. Arnold followed up, watching Helga greet Jeremy and run inside. Helga hadn't said goodbye so Arnold had the impulse to stay and say - well, something. Thanks for dinner. Nice hangin? No, I should go. Prove my point, can't be here when he asks her out.

Arnold made his decision, he tipped his head to Jeremy in a congenial nod and began walking past him. But then -

"Oh, hey Arnold!" Jeremy popped up from the stairs and hopped up to Arnold. Jeremy just towered over him, so he took another step back so he didn't have to crane his neck so far.

"What's up?"

"I just wanted to ask - you're friends with Nadine, right?" Uh-oh.

"Uh, um yeah. Yeah - I mean we work together on the newspaper. And we've known each other a long time." Taken aback by this, Arnold's thoughts and answers came out haltingly.

"Cool - cool. Do you know if she's seeing anyone?" Jeremy was ruddy in the cheeks and his voice was pitched up a little. Nervous. Arnold just stood there, looking at him, realizing that he was wrong - he had read it all wrong. In his silence, Jeremy continued, "I was thinking of asking her to homecoming…I know that might be dumb. She is way cooler and smarter than me - and hangs out with that Rhonda girl. She's just - "

"Yeah. yeah - Nadine's great… I thought you and Helga - "

"Oh! No, no. I mean, she's great - wicked funny and stuff. But - I don't know, man. She's a little too much for me, ya know? I don't think I'm strong enough." Jeremy chuckled. Arnold didn't.

"No, you're definitely not," Arnold said flatly. Zero to sixty, he went from thinking Jeremy was the perfect nerdy counterpart to Helga, to thinking Jeremy was a total fucking idiot who didn't deserve any dates ever. "Nadine isn't seeing anyone that I know of. But be careful, you might not be strong enough for her either."

The front door opened again. Arnold stepped around the tall boy and walked back toward the stoop, having made up his mind that he'd stay till Jeremy left.

"Here you go, J!" Helga stood on the last step holding out the worn paperback and in her other hand was a small hardcover. Jeremy came over, looking just slightly deflated and confused.

"Thanks, Helga. I - I'm really glad you liked it." He took the book and flicked his eyes to Arnold who was watching him too.

"Yeah! Loved it - you've always got good recommendations."

"What's that you got?" Pointing to the other book.

"Just something I brought down for Arnold." Jeremy seemed to take this as a cue or something and dropped down to pick up his bag. Helga was picking up the weird energy but really didn't know what to make of it. "You ok?"

"Yeah - 'course. I'll see you around, Helga." It looked for a moment like he may lean in for a hug, but thought better of it. He kicked his long board into his hand, dropped it onto the sidewalk, stepped onto it and rolled away.

Helga and Arnold watched him roll off for the second time that day and a moment of quiet slipped by. Then Helga croaked, "See. Told ya."

Helga turned to her friend, fully expecting him to look shocked or to start making excuses. Instead, she found him with his brow furrowed, still staring after Jeremy. "Hey! Earth to Football head!"

"Sorry - Yeah, you were right. Maybe he's not the right choice for a homecoming date, anyway." Helga tilted her head away from him. What the hell is this? Why the sudden change. But she didn't get the chance to investigate. "What do you have for me?" Arnold said brightly.

"Right - it's, uh, one of my favorites. A quick read - I saw it on my shelf when I went up and thought you might like it. Jeremy's already read it so - I don't know. Just take it." Helga found her cheeks getting hot. She thrust the book into his hands.

It was a slim hardcover, no dust jacket, just a textured red cloth cover. In gold letters were the words One of Many Stars, a novella by Stone Edwards.

"It's about this kid who discovers a fallen star and goes on this whole journey to try and put it back. But he - well - you just gotta read it. It's coming of age, got beautiful language. A little sad. A little hopeful." Her voice was brusk as she rushed to get them out. Arnold was just staring at the book as she described it and his stillness rattled Helga further. "Read it or don't - I just thought - "

"This sounds perfect - I know I'll love it." Arnold looked up at her with a big smile. He watched as her worry melted into satisfaction. "Thanks, Helga... For the book and - and for a really lovely afternoon."

"Heh - Anytime, football head." Don't screw this up, Helga. Don't ruin it, she thought as yet another nice moment passed between them. Helga let herself hope that maybe, maybe things will be different this time.

"HEELLLLGAAAA!" Big Bob's voice bellowed through the open front door, and the magic little bubble containing the two unsteady teens shattered. Both Helga and Arnold jumped a little in shock.

"CRIMINY, BOB! I'LL BE RIGHT IN!" She was fully red in the face now. "Jesus, he is so obnoxious."

"Oh my god!" Arnold laughed uncomfortably - maybe a little concerned - but Helga didn't look phased at all. So he took a step back and said, "Well, I guess I'll see ya tomorrow."

"Yeah." Helga sighed, defeated. As he walked away though, she took one more chance. "Hey Arnold?"

"Yeah?" He turned.

"I think I'll take you up on your offer," she managed. He looked a little confused. "To drive the Packard!" Now his face lit up.

"Great! But I have to warn you, I drive just like my Grandma!"

"Get out of here, before I change my mind!"

He smiled sweetly, then took a breath to say, "Good night, Helga." He turned around and finally set off. Helga stood there for a few minutes, watching dreamily as Arnold turned the corner.

"HELGA!"

"I"M COMING, I'm Coming! Christ! You're gonna give yourself a heart attack!" Helga went inside and slammed the door.

Around the corner Arnold's smile started to dissolve. Jeremy is an idiot, what a putz. Helga's not too much! Sure she's a lot - but come on! Look at all the shit he's doing. Like - A long board? What does he think this is, California? What was I thinking? At that moment, the curve of a nose popped into his mind.

He shook his head, feeling a little fuzzy after the long day and pulled out his phone to check the time.

Hey man, where are you right now? A text from Gerald from almost thirty minutes ago. Arnold hit Gerald's number to give him a call, but it went straight to voicemail. His phone must have died.