DISCOVERY
A Hey Arnold! Fanfic
(This fic is written entirely from Arnold's point of view. I really tried to get into his head, even as HE tries to understand Helga.)
Craig Bartlett owns all rights to these characters.
1999
Part One: The Danger
"Come on, Phoebe, you can do better than that!" Arnold heard Helga yell rudely at her best friend. Arnold shook his head. Phoebe, a small, shy girl, might be the smartest kid in fourth grade, but she wasn't very good at team sports. Helga, on the other hand, always played as if she were really mad at her opponents. Few kids liked to get in the way of the tall, skinny girl, with her one long eyebrow pulled down in a ferocious scowl, large teeth bared.
Arnold sighed as he watched Phoebe adjust her glasses and get a better grip on the bat. He knew Helga didn't have the patience to teach anyone how to play baseball. Probably Phoebe wasn't really interested in learning how to play, but she was too timid to tell Helga.
"Hey Arnold!" Gerald called. Arnold turned back to look at the kite Gerald was flying. That was why they'd come to the park. Gerald, his best friend, had wanted to try out his new Pop Daddy kite.
Arnold, you want a turn?"
"Sure," Arnold answered.
Gerald handed him the plastic stick with kite string wrapped around it, "Just don't fly it into those trees okay, man?" Gerald joked.
Arnold watched as Helga, her stiff, blond ponytails bobbing, pitched her twenty-fourth ball to Phoebe, who swung and missed. Again.
"Crimeney! I bet Gerald's little SISTER could play better than you!" Helga shouted.
"Maybe if you didn't throw it so hard," Arnold called. "Take it easy, Helga."
"Do you think the kids on the other team will take it easy?" Helga demanded.
"No, but--,' he lowered his voice, "I just think she'd have more confidence if she KNOWS she can hit the ball. Try a couple of easy pitches."
"Hey, who asked you, Football Head?" Helga glared at him. "Mind your own beeswax!"
Helga was one of those people who have a hard time accepting help or advice from anybody. He had learned that if he volunteered a solution to the person's problem and then BACKED OFF, the person usually followed his advice--after a little time to think it over.
"Never mind. Forget I said anything." He turned back to the kite, which was being blown too close to a tall tree.
"All right, Phoebe, now remember: keep your eye on the ball." He heard Helga say, a little more calmly than before.
She must have taken his advice, because he heard a loud CRACK! as Phoebe hit the ball.
"I did it!" Phoebe said happily. All four kids watched as the ball flew a good distance away, landing in some tall grass by the park fence.
"Not bad," Helga said with a smile. "Now go get my ball before someone steals it."
"Not bad'?" Gerald repeated. "That was great!"
Phoebe blushed.
"I'll help you look for it." Gerald volunteered.
Arnold smiled. Phoebe didn't really need help, but Gerald had sort of a crush on her.
"Thanks, Gerald." Phoebe said shyly. She seemed to like being with him, too. Just as the two kids got to the fence, Gerald looked back at Arnold.
"Arnold!" Gerald yelled.
"Oops!" Arnold yelled as Gerald's kite flew into the leafy branches of the tree and immediately got stuck.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Helga laughed meanly. "Way to go, Football Head." She jeered. "Looks like you should've taken MY advice and minded your own business."
Arnold made a sound halfway between a groan and a growl, which was how he usually expressed annoyance. He looked back to see Gerald waving his hand to him as if to say, "Well? YOU got it stuck. YOU go get it."
So Arnold started climbing the rough bark of the tree, picking up a few scratches in the process. About thirty feet up he came to a pair of branches growing next to each other. He noticed because one was leafy, the other wasn't.
Must be a dead branch. he thought. It creaked a little as he pulled on it, so he used the other branch instead, moving up diagonally around the tree.
Gerald's kite was about forty feet up. It took about ten minutes of careful unwinding of the string from branches, and a few good tugs, until it was freed.
He moved out as far from the tree trunk as he dared and looked down.
Gerald and Phoebe were still by the fence, talking. Helga was the only person near the tree. She was watching him--as if to make sure he was safe.
Arnold shook his head. Nah, that's crazy.
Then he realized he'd forgotten to bring the string-stick with him. When he moved back in toward the trunk to climb down, the dangling string would get caught again. Unless...he could get a little help.
'I got it!" He called down to Helga, holding the kite out. "Can you pull it away from the tree?" He shouted, taking a piece of string and moving his hand toward her, to give her the idea, in case she couldn't hear him. He hoped she would, for once, cooperate without an argument.
Helga turned to look at the others, and then, to his mild surprise, immediately picked up the plastic stick and began reeling in the kite rapidly, before the wind could blow it back into the branches.
"Thanks!" Arnold called, waving. Helga nodded and began walking toward the fence, carrying the kite.
As Arnold climbed down he thought about Helga. She was a hard person to understand. She was so angry a lot of the time. She played mean tricks on people and laughed. She picked on Arnold most of all--even though he'd never done anything to her. Why did she act like she hated him so much?
And yet--every now and then Helga did something truly nice--like the time she'd returned his favorite hat after the wind blew it away and he'd thought it lost forever, or the time she'd given up her ill-gotten finalist position to Phoebe in that contest...but she always got embarrassed and defensive if anyone made a big deal out of it. So, besides simple politeness, he mostly tried to ignore her behavior, good or bad.
The one time he had retaliated, splashing some paint on her in class after she deliberately splashed him--she squealed and then got this terrible, hurt, ready-to-cry look on her face that made him feel instantly ashamed. Helga was quarrelsome, but not really bad, and after he got home from detention he felt so guilty he called her and apologized. She'd reacted with anger, of course, but he didn't blame her, then.
Suddenly he was jolted out of his thoughts by the CREEAK--SNAP!! of a branch breaking under him! The dead branch!
He grabbed for the branch above him as he fell, but only grasped handfuls of leaves and twigs.
"Aaahh!" he screamed. Rough bark scraped by him; he wrapped his arms around it and with a painful jolt, opened his eyes to see he was hanging from the tree with his arms and legs wrapped around the halfway-broken branch. It was swinging back and forth, making horrible crackling sounds as the last shreds slowly began to part.
A Hey Arnold! Fanfic
(This fic is written entirely from Arnold's point of view. I really tried to get into his head, even as HE tries to understand Helga.)
Craig Bartlett owns all rights to these characters.
1999
Part One: The Danger
"Come on, Phoebe, you can do better than that!" Arnold heard Helga yell rudely at her best friend. Arnold shook his head. Phoebe, a small, shy girl, might be the smartest kid in fourth grade, but she wasn't very good at team sports. Helga, on the other hand, always played as if she were really mad at her opponents. Few kids liked to get in the way of the tall, skinny girl, with her one long eyebrow pulled down in a ferocious scowl, large teeth bared.
Arnold sighed as he watched Phoebe adjust her glasses and get a better grip on the bat. He knew Helga didn't have the patience to teach anyone how to play baseball. Probably Phoebe wasn't really interested in learning how to play, but she was too timid to tell Helga.
"Hey Arnold!" Gerald called. Arnold turned back to look at the kite Gerald was flying. That was why they'd come to the park. Gerald, his best friend, had wanted to try out his new Pop Daddy kite.
Arnold, you want a turn?"
"Sure," Arnold answered.
Gerald handed him the plastic stick with kite string wrapped around it, "Just don't fly it into those trees okay, man?" Gerald joked.
Arnold watched as Helga, her stiff, blond ponytails bobbing, pitched her twenty-fourth ball to Phoebe, who swung and missed. Again.
"Crimeney! I bet Gerald's little SISTER could play better than you!" Helga shouted.
"Maybe if you didn't throw it so hard," Arnold called. "Take it easy, Helga."
"Do you think the kids on the other team will take it easy?" Helga demanded.
"No, but--,' he lowered his voice, "I just think she'd have more confidence if she KNOWS she can hit the ball. Try a couple of easy pitches."
"Hey, who asked you, Football Head?" Helga glared at him. "Mind your own beeswax!"
Helga was one of those people who have a hard time accepting help or advice from anybody. He had learned that if he volunteered a solution to the person's problem and then BACKED OFF, the person usually followed his advice--after a little time to think it over.
"Never mind. Forget I said anything." He turned back to the kite, which was being blown too close to a tall tree.
"All right, Phoebe, now remember: keep your eye on the ball." He heard Helga say, a little more calmly than before.
She must have taken his advice, because he heard a loud CRACK! as Phoebe hit the ball.
"I did it!" Phoebe said happily. All four kids watched as the ball flew a good distance away, landing in some tall grass by the park fence.
"Not bad," Helga said with a smile. "Now go get my ball before someone steals it."
"Not bad'?" Gerald repeated. "That was great!"
Phoebe blushed.
"I'll help you look for it." Gerald volunteered.
Arnold smiled. Phoebe didn't really need help, but Gerald had sort of a crush on her.
"Thanks, Gerald." Phoebe said shyly. She seemed to like being with him, too. Just as the two kids got to the fence, Gerald looked back at Arnold.
"Arnold!" Gerald yelled.
"Oops!" Arnold yelled as Gerald's kite flew into the leafy branches of the tree and immediately got stuck.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Helga laughed meanly. "Way to go, Football Head." She jeered. "Looks like you should've taken MY advice and minded your own business."
Arnold made a sound halfway between a groan and a growl, which was how he usually expressed annoyance. He looked back to see Gerald waving his hand to him as if to say, "Well? YOU got it stuck. YOU go get it."
So Arnold started climbing the rough bark of the tree, picking up a few scratches in the process. About thirty feet up he came to a pair of branches growing next to each other. He noticed because one was leafy, the other wasn't.
Must be a dead branch. he thought. It creaked a little as he pulled on it, so he used the other branch instead, moving up diagonally around the tree.
Gerald's kite was about forty feet up. It took about ten minutes of careful unwinding of the string from branches, and a few good tugs, until it was freed.
He moved out as far from the tree trunk as he dared and looked down.
Gerald and Phoebe were still by the fence, talking. Helga was the only person near the tree. She was watching him--as if to make sure he was safe.
Arnold shook his head. Nah, that's crazy.
Then he realized he'd forgotten to bring the string-stick with him. When he moved back in toward the trunk to climb down, the dangling string would get caught again. Unless...he could get a little help.
'I got it!" He called down to Helga, holding the kite out. "Can you pull it away from the tree?" He shouted, taking a piece of string and moving his hand toward her, to give her the idea, in case she couldn't hear him. He hoped she would, for once, cooperate without an argument.
Helga turned to look at the others, and then, to his mild surprise, immediately picked up the plastic stick and began reeling in the kite rapidly, before the wind could blow it back into the branches.
"Thanks!" Arnold called, waving. Helga nodded and began walking toward the fence, carrying the kite.
As Arnold climbed down he thought about Helga. She was a hard person to understand. She was so angry a lot of the time. She played mean tricks on people and laughed. She picked on Arnold most of all--even though he'd never done anything to her. Why did she act like she hated him so much?
And yet--every now and then Helga did something truly nice--like the time she'd returned his favorite hat after the wind blew it away and he'd thought it lost forever, or the time she'd given up her ill-gotten finalist position to Phoebe in that contest...but she always got embarrassed and defensive if anyone made a big deal out of it. So, besides simple politeness, he mostly tried to ignore her behavior, good or bad.
The one time he had retaliated, splashing some paint on her in class after she deliberately splashed him--she squealed and then got this terrible, hurt, ready-to-cry look on her face that made him feel instantly ashamed. Helga was quarrelsome, but not really bad, and after he got home from detention he felt so guilty he called her and apologized. She'd reacted with anger, of course, but he didn't blame her, then.
Suddenly he was jolted out of his thoughts by the CREEAK--SNAP!! of a branch breaking under him! The dead branch!
He grabbed for the branch above him as he fell, but only grasped handfuls of leaves and twigs.
"Aaahh!" he screamed. Rough bark scraped by him; he wrapped his arms around it and with a painful jolt, opened his eyes to see he was hanging from the tree with his arms and legs wrapped around the halfway-broken branch. It was swinging back and forth, making horrible crackling sounds as the last shreds slowly began to part.