Chapter Three:
Helga slouched down next to the door. "I can't believe this . . ." she kept thinking, congratulating herself on saving the situation. It wasn't until 10 minutes later that she realized just how un-saved it was. Just how worse it had gotten. She tried to fight back tears, slapping herself ("Get a hold of yourself, you crybaby!") but it wouldn't stop. She cried. "I ruined it. He was right there, telling me my own secret, and I had to deny it! To stop it . . . well, of course I had to deny it . . . but then . . . ah! I ruined it! Every attempt to tell him . . . always ruined . . . always my fault." She crumpled up into fetal position on the kitchen floor, eventually falling asleep there.
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Why was she always mean? Always cruel? His head wasn't really shaped like a football . . . no one else seemed to think so. Arnold couldn't get that moment with Helga out of his head. It had only happened not too long ago. Just earlier that evening. And now here he was, in his room, unable to think straight.
He sat up, and turned on his stereo. "I'm not angry anyway." He told himself, lying. "But . . ." he thought, he didn't want it to turn out this way. Even if it was just Helga Pataki, Helga 'outofmywayoryou'llgetavisitfromOl'Betsy' Pataki.
"I need to let this go." He thought. And with that he lay down to sleep. If he could.
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Two weeks later. Helga had almost completely forgotten about Rhonda's party. But here she was now, wondering why she even came. She had felt so empty lately, after all that had happened. After slamming her door in Arnold's face.
Helga sat in a chair, watching Sid trying to flirt with Rhonda, and getting no response. It made her remember that stupid shrine of his, which made her remember her own shrine. She sighed, and thought about him. Him. Arnold. She had come so close to telling him. So close, that he was the one telling her. Why did she have to always screw things up?
Helga walked out onto Rhonda's balcony, the dancing and the music getting to her. She needed to be alone, and conveniently, no one was out here. She smoothed out her red dress, better than that old pink one, and pulled out her locket. After losing it a good number of times she now clung on to it like there was no tomorrow. Inside it, now, is one-of-the-many poems that she wrote about Arnold, except this was the one that Sid rejected. The one she considered her best work. To think she almost gave it up to that slimeball, Sid. Oh well. She was here now, and he didn't have her locket. Their promise of not telling anyone who the other liked still held, and she was glad. She pulled out the poem, and read it silently to herself.
Arnold, inside the party with Gerald, eyed Helga from the moment she walked out onto the balcony. He waited for Gerald to go off and ask Phoebe to dance until he went out to see her. When he did, she jumped, and hid the locket behind her back (he didn't notice) but then she went back into Helga-routine. "Hey, football head."
"Hey, Helga. What are you doing out here?"
"I just needed some fresh air." She said softly. "Why aren't you in the party?"
"I wanted to see what you were up to."
"Oh, nothing, really . . ." she said, trying to think of a way to slip the poem back into her locket without him noticing.
Helga stared at him. They both just stood there, both in uncomfortable silence, and for a good long time. Just leaning over the balcony, gazing out over the city.
"Helga," he said.
"Y-yes, Arnold?" She said.
"It's really late. I have to be home soon."
"Oh, me too."
"May I walk you home?"
She was surprised. "Of course, Arnold."
"Good." He said, and they left the party. Arnold said bye to Gerald, and Helga did the same with Phoebe. They were both dumbfounded to see Arnold and Helga leaving the party together, but quickly their attention went back to each other.
The walk was mostly silent. When they neared her house, Arnold wished her a goodnight, but before she could open the door, he spoke again. "Helga, about what happened . . ."
Helga's mind froze. 'About what happened.' About how stupid she had been. About how stupid she was. "I'm not as bitter as I appear " she thought. "I just can't face the truth even when it is staring right back at me. It is just that it seems like forever ago that the right thing happened at the wrong time, and the right remarks made me what I am. But Arnold . . . " she paused her own thoughts wondering what could she say with out ruining everything once again. "If this all were to end tonight," she thought, "if he were to say what I think he's going to say . . . would I mind? All the poetry, all the times I've tried to foul things up between Lila and him, all the times I've told myself how much I've loved him . . . would it all end if he were to deny me?"
"Helga? Helga?" Arnold said, grabbing hold of her shoulder.
"What?" she said dumbly. Arnold let her shoulder go. "You blanked out for a minute there. Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. You . . ." she couldn't bring herself to call him a doofus, football head, geek, or anything. She felt too different.
"Arnold, I'm sorry about slamming the door in your face. I'm sorry about being so mean. You just don't know what it's like . . ." she said quietly.
"Helga, what do you mean?"
"Oh, Arnold!" she practically yelled. He took a step back, surprised. "Don't you get it! All this torment! All this pressure! It never ends! Day after day I go by thinking about it non-stop, never giving myself the chance to. I can do nothing about it!"
Arnold frowned. He wanted to calm her down, she wouldn't stop yelling. "Helga, I'm sorry I accused you of liking me. It just made sense with the locket and all, I didn't mean to upset you so much-"
Helga wasn't expecting that. "ARNOLD!" Helga yelled, "Don't you get it? I do like you! I love you! I have ever since the first time I saw you! Ever since I saw that football shaped head! Ever since you told me you like my bow! That's the only reason I still wear the thing! I love you, Arnold! I've been hiding it for so long that of course I denied when you yourself asked me about it! There were already plenty of times when you could have known! I love you, Arnold! I love you!" She cried out, then calmed down a little.
"Arnold . . ." she said. He looked at her, and then her outstretched hand, holding the poem. He gently took it from her, and slowly read it. He looked at her when he was finished, then read it again. He turned to Helga and saw that she was holding that same locket.
"So that is your locket." he said. "And you do like me." he finished.
She nodded.
He paused, then asked "How could you like me? And for so long?"
"I-well, you . . ." Helga stuttered, "How . . . well . . . how could anyone not like you for this long?"
Arnold sighed a little, then gave a sheepish smile. "You know, Helga, this may come as a shock to you, but, I like you too. When I thought you liked me, I began to feel the same."
"Really?" she said, genuinely surprised.
He nodded.
Neither knew what to do or say after that. They just stood quietly, Helga's thoughts racing of 'her every dream come true', though she stared at the ground, not moving.
Until Arnold did.
Arnold smiled, moved closer to her, and kissed her. Helga's heart skipped a beat.
"Goodnight again, Helga." He said, his eye contact making her heart thump more. He then walked off, going the way of his own home.
Helga's goofy smile broadened. "Goodnight, my blonde-haired prince . . . "