Woo-Hoo! Chapter three...chatpter three!!! Happy Happy Joy Joy! I know this took a while, guys, but hey...
What can I say? It's the begining of school... ever heard of HOMEWORK? :::Shudder::: When I become
Important, I'm gonna ban that word! Alright, 'nuff of my rambling... ON WITH THE SHOW!
Disclaimer- La di da....I don't own Hey Arnold...
~*~Understanding Helga~*~
Chapter Three- Some Enchanted Evening
I hold my breath after I say that. What have I done? Pataki, you freak, how the heck do you manage to mess up
in such a short period of time? Why couldn't I have just ripped up the poem? Why did I give it to him? Why did I
write the thing in the first place? This anger's me to no end. How is it possible that I work so hard, day after day
to become what I am, only to have it all shattered by a single--I'll be it wonderful-- boy in a matter of minutes?! He's not
saying anything, not even moving. For a second I wonder if he's still alive. I know why. He's thinks I'm a depressive
maniac. I've been begining to think that about myself lately, too. I head back to the desk chair. He's finally found his voice,
"Helga...it's... it's--"
"They didn't always used to be so sad." I inturupted quickly, "It's just lately it seems--"
"Why didn't you ever let us know?" he cuts in. Let him know what?
"Let you know what?"
"That you could do..." he searches for the word, then points at the poem, "Well...this." I give him a sckepticle look,
"Would you have cared?" somehow, I doubt it. Arnold looked at me incredously,
"Are you serious?" he asks me, "Helga, I never knew you--never knew anyone our age-- could write like this."
I winced, because he had just answered his question without knowing it. Why couldn't I let him know? Because he
never knew me. He begins to walk towards me, closing the distance between us at a fast rate that I don't like. No,
don't you get it, Arnold? The LAST thing I want right now is for you to be near me. Scary thing's happen when Arnold
get's too close. A part of me just falls apart, and it's almost like it was never there. Coinciedently, it's that part of me
that I need the most. The part that taught me how to be strong. He's not even a foot away from me now. Panic
rises up my throat and I narrowed my eyes at him, hatefully, hoping cruelty would work. My hands are shaking.
"How many more are there like this?" he questions, ignoring my cold stare completely. How many more? I think
to the tens upon tens of poems written in my latest Pink Book. There were more then I'd ever like there to be.
I gulped, "Not as many as the other's. But still a fair amount." I answered truthfully. Criminey, Helga, why did you say
that? You know how to lie, you've been doing it most of your life!
"Other's?" is his blunt question.
"I told you, they arn't all sad." there's a lump in my throat, making it hard for me to swallow. I know the next question.
"So, why are they now?" Yup, right on time. Okay, here's my chance. Just say 'What is this, twenty questions?!' and
hopefully you'll be let off the hook. Caught up in the moment, I look him in the eye. Those perfect, pure green eyes.
A green that would put all other's to shame. They flash with caring, and whatever I was thinking about a moment
ago melted. I sit down on the chair, basicly because I no longer trust myself to stand,
"Why shouldn't they be?" I mumble, still not breaking the gaze. He looks away and bits his lip.Wonder what he's thinking.
"You're life's not all that bad, Helga." he whispered to a wall. WHAT?!
"E-excuse me?" I stutter. He looks back up at me with saddness. Lord, what have I done NOW?!
"At least you have parents." he said shortly. I sat in a coma. I didn't know what to say to that. I couldn't just snap
back a harsh response. That would be evil, even by my terms. So I said what came naturally,
"Arnold," I began, "I may have parents, but, with the way they treat me, we might as well be strangers. You have
two grandparent's that actually LOVE you, everyone likes you and you've never had to fight for what you wanted a
day in your life." I touched his arm lightly, hoping that it would be some kind of comfort to him,
"You think my life isn't that bad? Well, I'd trade it for yours in a New York second." I finished. We were silent,
but he just kept on looking at me, urging me to explain myself, that same caring, concerned look in his eyes. I
couldn't help but give in, so I spoke, slowly and cautiously, making sure that nothing slips out I don't want to,
"Do you know that they have an entire room dedicated to Olga's trophies? They have volumes upon volumes
of photo albums, home video's and shcool projects. Do you know how many pictures they have of me? About
four, and those arn't even fully of me, I'm just standing beside Olga. Bob doesn't even know my name, he calls me
Olga. I remember once when my Grandma sent me this little jewelerly box, and Mirium and Bob sent it to her because
it was--and I quote--'Almost as precious as her'. The only time my mom's gone for any period of time without being
wasted on smoothie's, she became a workaholic, and Bob just see's me as another mouth to feed. Ever since I was
old enough to do things for myself, they shut me out completely. I mean, Criminey, I'm nine years old and I
sometime's have to sew clothes out of Olga's hand-me-downs! Everyone wants me to be something. A Bully,
A Winner, whatever! Don't you think I ever get tired of trying to make people happy?! Every competition I went
in, do you think I did it for fun?! NO! I did it to prove to everyone that I'm not a complete nothing! But it never works!"
I was yelling by now and gesturing wildly. So much for mantaining composure. He went and sat on his bed, looking at
me with....oh God no. Not that.
Pity.
"Stop it!" I yell at him,
"What?" he asks innocently.
"I don't need your pity, Arnoldo!" I growl back. All my life, I have never wanted that awful four-letter word directed
at me. When people pity things, they no longer see them as equal, they see those things that they pity as lower then
them. Pity is for the pathedic that are too weak and lazy and feel too sorry for themselves to actully get up and do
something about it. My whole life is practicly based around the fact that I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me and my
life, no matter how miserable it may be. I don't need anyones Pity but my own, thank you!
"Helga, I didn't know..."
"That's because I didn't want you to find out!" I snapped back, and we were silent. I spun the chair so that my back
was facing him. I listened to my breathing, then his. It's calm and slow, he's thinking about something. Eternity
passed, and still nothing was said. Season's changed, people grew old, and plants withered and blew into oblivion.
Okay, maybe not, but it was still a long silence. And Arnold was the one to break it,
"Have you ever told them?" he asked, shattering the quiet. I remained facing away from him,
"I've tried a couple of times. But they either ignore it, or just start caring about me long enough so I'll shut up."
Well, there was very little use in lying to him now, so I figure I may as well make him happy one way, since I've
never been able to make him happy any other.
"You can't make people care, they have to do that themselves." I tell him. I can feel him looking at me,
"Helga, come here." he says gently. A strange feeling explodes in the pit of my stomach and spreads up into my
arms and chest, weaking my body right down to my fingertips. I get up stiffly and walk to his bed until I'm standing
there facing him. He takes my hand and pulls gently until he's got me sitting next to him. I don't think I can feel my
legs. He's got me sitting so close. He's still holding my hand, and I have to grip the side of the bed to stay concious,
"Helga, you know I care, don't you?" he asks. I look away quickly and he sqeezed my hand,
"You don't really think you're nothing, do you Helga?" I somehow manage not to swallow my toungue and speak,
"You--You care about--everyone, Arnold." I say, avoiding the last question "That's why everyone likes you."
He gives me his half-smile, "You never seemed too big on me." he says back. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I give
you the world's biggest lie! If he only knew how big on him I was!
"I've always liked you Arnold." is what I hear myself blurt out. WHAT?! No, did I say that out loud?!
he looks at me in wonder, leaning in closer so were only centimeters apart. I breath in the scent of his shampoo
and try to convince myself that this isn't one of my fantasies. That's when he speaks,
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You have?" I ask her in a whisper. How did I get this close to her? Did I do this, or did she? There's this
strange look on her face. Like she doesn't believe I'm really here. I'm still holding her hand, and I begin running
my fingers over hers as a distraction. A distraction from her eyes, which are looking at me in wide-eyed, bluer-then-blue
innocense. I never knew she was like this. I never knew she did the things she did to make people happy. I never
knew she thought so badly of herself. But then, I don't really know Helga, do I? Her free hand is holding on to
the side of my bed for dear life. I wonder why?
"Well--yeah, of course... I mean--I think you're ok...really ok." she stumbles. I grin, because she's cute when
she does that. Wait a second...CUTE?! I mean...Well I mean... what do I mean? She smiles back at me and sighs,
"Arnold, when I say all that stuff to you, don't take it personally, ok?"
"I don't." I assure her, and she starts giggling. It's almost like her whole face lit up,
"Even though you DO have a Footballhead!" she laughs. I raise my eybrow at her and smirk,
"Oh really?" I ask jokingly. She nods, still laughing,
"Well, there's a reason for that." I tell her. Helga stops and looks at me curiously. She reaches her hand up to push a few
loose pieces of hair from her face...and acciedently brushes against my cheek instead. My stomach twisted in knots and I
realize that we're still as close as were a few minutes back. We both move a little farther away, and I let go of her hand.
I clear my throat, embarassed. She looks at me and smiles shyly,
"So what's the reason?" she asked. Huh? Reason? Oh, I get it. I reach over, pull open one of the drawers of the
shelf beside my bed, and take out the picture. It's a little worn from being handled so often. It's one of the most important
things I own. The picture of me, Mom and Dad, taken just before they disappered. I looked at it for a moment,
then showed it to Helga. She held one of the corner's, and, seeing my mother, smiled gently,
"So it's hereaditary." she stated teasingly, and I laugh. She suddenly becomes somber. That's not how I want to see her,
"What's wrong?" I ask her. She smiled warmly.
"They look like great people, Arnold." she said quietly, "They'd be really proud of you." I felt my cheeks getting warm.
She really thought that? I've never heard that from anyone but Grandma and Grandpa before. I didn't expect it from Helga.
I have this...strange twinge inside every time I look at her now... I've never felt anything like it before. I'm not sure what it is.
"You think so Helga?" I asked her, she nodded,
"Diffenitly..." and then added, "After all...What parent wouldn't be proud of the Great Kimba?"
I laughed and gave her a frienly smack on the shoulder.
We continued to talk, about everything imaginable.
~End of chapter Three~
No people, this isn't THE END... there's more coming. Yeah, yeah, I know they were OOC. But when people realize
they CARE about eachother...they don't exactly keep the same relationship as they did when they were enemies. This
chapter was kinda short... maybe boring? You were expecting a Lipfest, werent'cha? Well... I'm drawing that
sucker out for as long as I can!!! Next chapter'll be better as soon as the Homework dies down, promise!
R&R...Pretty please? ^_^
Wishin u
Luv
Life
Luck
n' Lafta'
~*~C.D~*~
What can I say? It's the begining of school... ever heard of HOMEWORK? :::Shudder::: When I become
Important, I'm gonna ban that word! Alright, 'nuff of my rambling... ON WITH THE SHOW!
Disclaimer- La di da....I don't own Hey Arnold...
~*~Understanding Helga~*~
Chapter Three- Some Enchanted Evening
I hold my breath after I say that. What have I done? Pataki, you freak, how the heck do you manage to mess up
in such a short period of time? Why couldn't I have just ripped up the poem? Why did I give it to him? Why did I
write the thing in the first place? This anger's me to no end. How is it possible that I work so hard, day after day
to become what I am, only to have it all shattered by a single--I'll be it wonderful-- boy in a matter of minutes?! He's not
saying anything, not even moving. For a second I wonder if he's still alive. I know why. He's thinks I'm a depressive
maniac. I've been begining to think that about myself lately, too. I head back to the desk chair. He's finally found his voice,
"Helga...it's... it's--"
"They didn't always used to be so sad." I inturupted quickly, "It's just lately it seems--"
"Why didn't you ever let us know?" he cuts in. Let him know what?
"Let you know what?"
"That you could do..." he searches for the word, then points at the poem, "Well...this." I give him a sckepticle look,
"Would you have cared?" somehow, I doubt it. Arnold looked at me incredously,
"Are you serious?" he asks me, "Helga, I never knew you--never knew anyone our age-- could write like this."
I winced, because he had just answered his question without knowing it. Why couldn't I let him know? Because he
never knew me. He begins to walk towards me, closing the distance between us at a fast rate that I don't like. No,
don't you get it, Arnold? The LAST thing I want right now is for you to be near me. Scary thing's happen when Arnold
get's too close. A part of me just falls apart, and it's almost like it was never there. Coinciedently, it's that part of me
that I need the most. The part that taught me how to be strong. He's not even a foot away from me now. Panic
rises up my throat and I narrowed my eyes at him, hatefully, hoping cruelty would work. My hands are shaking.
"How many more are there like this?" he questions, ignoring my cold stare completely. How many more? I think
to the tens upon tens of poems written in my latest Pink Book. There were more then I'd ever like there to be.
I gulped, "Not as many as the other's. But still a fair amount." I answered truthfully. Criminey, Helga, why did you say
that? You know how to lie, you've been doing it most of your life!
"Other's?" is his blunt question.
"I told you, they arn't all sad." there's a lump in my throat, making it hard for me to swallow. I know the next question.
"So, why are they now?" Yup, right on time. Okay, here's my chance. Just say 'What is this, twenty questions?!' and
hopefully you'll be let off the hook. Caught up in the moment, I look him in the eye. Those perfect, pure green eyes.
A green that would put all other's to shame. They flash with caring, and whatever I was thinking about a moment
ago melted. I sit down on the chair, basicly because I no longer trust myself to stand,
"Why shouldn't they be?" I mumble, still not breaking the gaze. He looks away and bits his lip.Wonder what he's thinking.
"You're life's not all that bad, Helga." he whispered to a wall. WHAT?!
"E-excuse me?" I stutter. He looks back up at me with saddness. Lord, what have I done NOW?!
"At least you have parents." he said shortly. I sat in a coma. I didn't know what to say to that. I couldn't just snap
back a harsh response. That would be evil, even by my terms. So I said what came naturally,
"Arnold," I began, "I may have parents, but, with the way they treat me, we might as well be strangers. You have
two grandparent's that actually LOVE you, everyone likes you and you've never had to fight for what you wanted a
day in your life." I touched his arm lightly, hoping that it would be some kind of comfort to him,
"You think my life isn't that bad? Well, I'd trade it for yours in a New York second." I finished. We were silent,
but he just kept on looking at me, urging me to explain myself, that same caring, concerned look in his eyes. I
couldn't help but give in, so I spoke, slowly and cautiously, making sure that nothing slips out I don't want to,
"Do you know that they have an entire room dedicated to Olga's trophies? They have volumes upon volumes
of photo albums, home video's and shcool projects. Do you know how many pictures they have of me? About
four, and those arn't even fully of me, I'm just standing beside Olga. Bob doesn't even know my name, he calls me
Olga. I remember once when my Grandma sent me this little jewelerly box, and Mirium and Bob sent it to her because
it was--and I quote--'Almost as precious as her'. The only time my mom's gone for any period of time without being
wasted on smoothie's, she became a workaholic, and Bob just see's me as another mouth to feed. Ever since I was
old enough to do things for myself, they shut me out completely. I mean, Criminey, I'm nine years old and I
sometime's have to sew clothes out of Olga's hand-me-downs! Everyone wants me to be something. A Bully,
A Winner, whatever! Don't you think I ever get tired of trying to make people happy?! Every competition I went
in, do you think I did it for fun?! NO! I did it to prove to everyone that I'm not a complete nothing! But it never works!"
I was yelling by now and gesturing wildly. So much for mantaining composure. He went and sat on his bed, looking at
me with....oh God no. Not that.
Pity.
"Stop it!" I yell at him,
"What?" he asks innocently.
"I don't need your pity, Arnoldo!" I growl back. All my life, I have never wanted that awful four-letter word directed
at me. When people pity things, they no longer see them as equal, they see those things that they pity as lower then
them. Pity is for the pathedic that are too weak and lazy and feel too sorry for themselves to actully get up and do
something about it. My whole life is practicly based around the fact that I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me and my
life, no matter how miserable it may be. I don't need anyones Pity but my own, thank you!
"Helga, I didn't know..."
"That's because I didn't want you to find out!" I snapped back, and we were silent. I spun the chair so that my back
was facing him. I listened to my breathing, then his. It's calm and slow, he's thinking about something. Eternity
passed, and still nothing was said. Season's changed, people grew old, and plants withered and blew into oblivion.
Okay, maybe not, but it was still a long silence. And Arnold was the one to break it,
"Have you ever told them?" he asked, shattering the quiet. I remained facing away from him,
"I've tried a couple of times. But they either ignore it, or just start caring about me long enough so I'll shut up."
Well, there was very little use in lying to him now, so I figure I may as well make him happy one way, since I've
never been able to make him happy any other.
"You can't make people care, they have to do that themselves." I tell him. I can feel him looking at me,
"Helga, come here." he says gently. A strange feeling explodes in the pit of my stomach and spreads up into my
arms and chest, weaking my body right down to my fingertips. I get up stiffly and walk to his bed until I'm standing
there facing him. He takes my hand and pulls gently until he's got me sitting next to him. I don't think I can feel my
legs. He's got me sitting so close. He's still holding my hand, and I have to grip the side of the bed to stay concious,
"Helga, you know I care, don't you?" he asks. I look away quickly and he sqeezed my hand,
"You don't really think you're nothing, do you Helga?" I somehow manage not to swallow my toungue and speak,
"You--You care about--everyone, Arnold." I say, avoiding the last question "That's why everyone likes you."
He gives me his half-smile, "You never seemed too big on me." he says back. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I give
you the world's biggest lie! If he only knew how big on him I was!
"I've always liked you Arnold." is what I hear myself blurt out. WHAT?! No, did I say that out loud?!
he looks at me in wonder, leaning in closer so were only centimeters apart. I breath in the scent of his shampoo
and try to convince myself that this isn't one of my fantasies. That's when he speaks,
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You have?" I ask her in a whisper. How did I get this close to her? Did I do this, or did she? There's this
strange look on her face. Like she doesn't believe I'm really here. I'm still holding her hand, and I begin running
my fingers over hers as a distraction. A distraction from her eyes, which are looking at me in wide-eyed, bluer-then-blue
innocense. I never knew she was like this. I never knew she did the things she did to make people happy. I never
knew she thought so badly of herself. But then, I don't really know Helga, do I? Her free hand is holding on to
the side of my bed for dear life. I wonder why?
"Well--yeah, of course... I mean--I think you're ok...really ok." she stumbles. I grin, because she's cute when
she does that. Wait a second...CUTE?! I mean...Well I mean... what do I mean? She smiles back at me and sighs,
"Arnold, when I say all that stuff to you, don't take it personally, ok?"
"I don't." I assure her, and she starts giggling. It's almost like her whole face lit up,
"Even though you DO have a Footballhead!" she laughs. I raise my eybrow at her and smirk,
"Oh really?" I ask jokingly. She nods, still laughing,
"Well, there's a reason for that." I tell her. Helga stops and looks at me curiously. She reaches her hand up to push a few
loose pieces of hair from her face...and acciedently brushes against my cheek instead. My stomach twisted in knots and I
realize that we're still as close as were a few minutes back. We both move a little farther away, and I let go of her hand.
I clear my throat, embarassed. She looks at me and smiles shyly,
"So what's the reason?" she asked. Huh? Reason? Oh, I get it. I reach over, pull open one of the drawers of the
shelf beside my bed, and take out the picture. It's a little worn from being handled so often. It's one of the most important
things I own. The picture of me, Mom and Dad, taken just before they disappered. I looked at it for a moment,
then showed it to Helga. She held one of the corner's, and, seeing my mother, smiled gently,
"So it's hereaditary." she stated teasingly, and I laugh. She suddenly becomes somber. That's not how I want to see her,
"What's wrong?" I ask her. She smiled warmly.
"They look like great people, Arnold." she said quietly, "They'd be really proud of you." I felt my cheeks getting warm.
She really thought that? I've never heard that from anyone but Grandma and Grandpa before. I didn't expect it from Helga.
I have this...strange twinge inside every time I look at her now... I've never felt anything like it before. I'm not sure what it is.
"You think so Helga?" I asked her, she nodded,
"Diffenitly..." and then added, "After all...What parent wouldn't be proud of the Great Kimba?"
I laughed and gave her a frienly smack on the shoulder.
We continued to talk, about everything imaginable.
~End of chapter Three~
No people, this isn't THE END... there's more coming. Yeah, yeah, I know they were OOC. But when people realize
they CARE about eachother...they don't exactly keep the same relationship as they did when they were enemies. This
chapter was kinda short... maybe boring? You were expecting a Lipfest, werent'cha? Well... I'm drawing that
sucker out for as long as I can!!! Next chapter'll be better as soon as the Homework dies down, promise!
R&R...Pretty please? ^_^
Wishin u
Luv
Life
Luck
n' Lafta'
~*~C.D~*~
