Hey out there. Sorry for taking so long with this. Life gets in the way sometimes.
Before I start, I've received a few complaints about the characters, well Bob, being out of character, and the story being too serious. Sorry. I'm not an expert on this cartoon. I've seen it a few times, read a few episode scripts and read what some of the fans have written. You are all right, the show is more or less lighthearted and Bob seems harmless enough. Yet, from what I've seen of his personality, and from the perspective of someone who has studied psychology, he does have the personality for abuse. It was not a huge stretch of the imagination for him to become physically abusive, as he is already emotionally and mentally abusive. Someone pointed out to me that he did bond with Helga in an episode. I recently saw that one. It was nice. Take it from someone who knows, though. Abusive personalities often deeply love or respect the people that they hurt. Most of the time, it's an issue of control.
And for those who didn't like the seriousness and/or the subject matter. I did put a warning up. I will state it again. This story contains child abuse.
I have been reading your comments. Thank you.
Hey Arnold and the characters within do not belong to me.
"Realization"
A week passed. Summer, slowly giving way to Fall, was barely clinging to the life it once had led. Things had slipped into a somewhat dreary routine of school and home life. It was as if a small black cloud were hanging just overhead at all times. A general feeling of discontent seemed to be taking everyone over, as if something was just out of balance.
And he couldn't for the life of him figure out what that was.
Lately the boarders had been more bitter and complaining than ever. They were constantly fighting and bickering and complaining over the tiniest thing, and he was finding it harder and harder to ignore them. Worse, though, was the fact that his grandparents seemed to want to thrust him in the middle of everything, including a recent argument they'd had that seemed to have left them increasingly hostile towards each other. He wasn't sure how, but somewhere in the midst of ranting about the Alamo and going off on secret reconnaissance missions in search of Russian spies, his grandmother had actually offended his grandfather, who wasn't about to let it drop. For the last two days "pookie" had seemed more than a little demeaning and Arnold suspected his grandmother was purposely making all the foods that made his grandfather sick.
Or maybe it was his perception of things.
He had to admit, with things the way they were at school, he couldn't be sure his judgment wasn't altered, that he wasn't looking for things to be wrong. The Helga Situation wasn't getting any better. She still wasn't talking to, or even now acknowledging, anyone other than Brainy, and he wasn't sure she was even talking to him. She just tolerated him more, allowed him around her as she chased everyone else away with a look that promised certain torturous death.
And Phoebe was still more than a little upset. She had taken to spending all her time with him and Gerald. Not that they minded helping her, it was just weird to be around her all the time, especially without someone else always lurking behind her. It had also taken awhile to convince her that they didn't want her to do anything for them. She had continually tried to anticipate both of them and get their lunches for them or pick up their books or other such acts of servitude. They were still trying to break her of that, but she just kept doing it, almost as if she would feel useless if she didn't.
It was definitely a change, and one he was not sure he liked. This was one situation he didn't know how to fix. He didn't know what the right thing to do was. He didn't even know the problem.
It was recess. Helga and Brainy were sitting alone in the corner Helga had claimed for herself. No one went near her, they didn't even look over. They had already gotten used to the new order of things - an order without Helga Pataki. Not much else had changed, Arnold had noted, except for Phoebe, everyone stayed with the same friends, everyone held their same level of popularity, the leaders were still the leaders, the geeks were still the geeks and the bullies still the bullies. It had surprised Arnold how little Helga had actually meant to her classmates. In fact, beyond the first few days of curiosity, no one seemed to even notice she was gone with the exception of Stinky who had commented that it was "a mite more peaceful without her bullien' anymore".
He wondered what would happen if he were in her situation. Would his lack of presence affect them?
It was a sobering thought, and he bit his lip in agitation as he looked over at Helga and Brainy. Phoebe and Gerald, beside him, were doing the same. It had become their tradition since the incident. Kind of a silent vigil over a lost friend, only without the grave. They rarely talked about it, just watched, trying to glean a reason from her actions where they couldn't find one in words. Sometimes they talked, but in hushed voices. This was one of those days.
"Hey Arnold," Gerald said tentatively, "why do you suppose she lets Brainy near her and no one else?"
"I don't know, Gerald," Arnold said, puzzled also. He'd thought about that before, but couldn't come up with a reason. He'd thought she hated Brainy, she was always so mean to him.
"It's because he wasn't there," Phoebe murmured absently.
"What?" Both boys were staring at her.
"He wasn't there that day, remember?" Phoebe said, now looking back up at them, "I guess she doesn't blame him for whatever we did. He wasn't there to do anything to her, and he wasn't there to see her blow up." Phoebe's voice turned to a whisper, "All the rest of us were."
"I wasn't," Arnold said without thinking. Actually, he *was* thinking, but he was thinking about the explanation Phoebe had just given him. It made sense, but then, when did Phoebe not make sense?
He realized both of them were staring at *him* now.
"What?"
"You're right, Arnold, you weren't there," Phoebe exclaimed excitedly, "maybe *you* could talk to her! I bet she'd let *you*!"
"Phoebe I don't think..." The words died in Arnold's throat. Phoebe was looking up at him with such a hopeful expression. He just couldn't say no, not if there was a chance he could help.
He sighed.
"Alright," he said, "I'll try at the end of recess." Phoebe actually smiled, the first time in a week. Arnold shook his head as she turned away, "If she doesn't pound me first!" He muttered under his breath. He felt a clap on his back, and saw Gerald there, smiling with pity. He knew Gerald had heard and understood.
They all sat in silence until the end of recess bell sounded. Arnold waited until most of the kids had gone inside, knowing that Helga tended to avoid the onrushing crowd now, so she would wait till last also. Dust cleared and silence began to set in as the kids abandoned the playground. It seemed to Arnold that he and Helga were suddenly completely alone, no one around for miles. Even Brainy was missing. Arnold wasn't sure how that had happened, but he was privately grateful. It would be infinitely harder to try to talk to Helga with an audience.
It felt like an old western standoff - right before the onslaught of gunfire.
Helga didn't look at him; she may not have even realized he was there. She started for the door leading inside. It was now or never.
"Helga," Arnold broke the silence tentatively. To his surprised she stopped, pausing for a moment, then she shook her head and kept going. "Helga, wait, ok?"
She stopped again, and this time turned around, her fiercest glare directed at him. He gulped, but stepped nearer to her. "Helga, listen... I want to talk to you, please." She didn't say a word, but the intensity of the glare lessened and she tilted her head slightly at him.
He took that as a good sign and moved forward, until he was standing in front of her. He paused, searching for how to begin. "I, I wanted to know... Are you okay?"
Her world tilted in that moment. She'd seen him watching and felt him lurking around her as she tried to enter the school. She hadn't been sure just what was about. She didn't think it would be pleasant. Someone like him, someone good and happy, he couldn't possibly understand what she was going through. She should just ignore him like everyone else.
But she couldn't. She'd tried, but when he said her name, asked her to wait, she couldn't seem to make her legs go forward. Instead, they *turned around*. Traitors. So she waited trying to scare him of with her look of doom. He'd stayed, though. That had really surprised her. She began to wonder... then he'd asked to talk with her. She felt her face sag with disappointment. She knew he'd been hanging out with Phoebe. She was still watching over Phoebe, just from a distance, without her knowing. Helga figured that Arnold was here to lecture her on how bad she'd made Phoebe feel. Like she didn't already know. It haunted her every day. Her pride, that hideous bug that lived within her, prevented her from doing anything about it. It didn't matter anyway, Phoebe deserved someone who wasn't completely worthless, like she was.
"...Are you okay?" Her world tilted. That was not what she had expected, and her mind suddenly couldn't function.
"What?" She said without thinking. Immediately she regretted it. She had broken her silence.
But this encouraged Arnold. His stance became a little bolder and he felt it easier to say his next words. "It's just that you're acting so... unlike you. I just wondered what happened."
Helga took a moment to look at him. He *looked* earnest enough. She thought back to that day. Had he been there? Frowning, she searched the picture she kept in the back of her mind. Phoebe of course, had been there, and Gerald, Stinky, Curly, Harold... she could see almost everyone in class, but not Arnold. Was it possible that he hadn't been there?
"I'm fine," she told him, trying to sound harsh, the way she remembered. It came out a lot softer than she had intended, lighter too. Her words didn't quite carry the 'drop it and leave me alone' she had intended. Now she wasn't sure what to do.
Arnold had come to speak to Helga about Phoebe. Now he realized that this wasn't the time. She was actually being civil and he had the feeling that if he mentioned Phoebe, Helga would quickly revert to insults, or worse to her silence. For now, maybe he could find out what her problem was, and then, maybe he could help everyone.
"So... would you like to talk about it?"
"No!" That answer had come too quickly, with too much force behind it. It only piqued Arnold's curiosity.
"Well maybe I could help you. You know, give you some advice or something."
"No." She said again, vehemenantly.
"Helga, something's obviously wrong. Have you told anyone?" Undaunted, Arnold stepped forward, taking a closer look at her. Now there was fear and trapped anger in her eyes. Why?
"No! There's nothing wrong, leave me alone footballhead!" She was panicking now, he could tell, trying to make him mad.
She was backing away, she was going to leave. He couldn't let her do that. Not when he felt like he was getting close. As she turned and started to dash away, Arnold reached out and grabbed her hand to halt her. She yelped in pain and stopped dead. She didn't move a muscle, just stood very still breathing hard against the pain. Slowly, she turned and looked at Arnold with pained eyes, silently pleading with him to release her.
He didn't. Loosening his grip, her carefully turned her arm over and examined it. Even that little bit of motion had hurt her. He heard her gasp, then hold her breath. Her arm was swollen, and turning an angry red.
Arnold gaped up at her, still not letting go of her wrist, though now he was holding it as lightly as he could. "What happened to your arm, Helga?"
I'm FINE, footballhead!" She hissed through clenched teeth. "Let go of me!"
Obviously she was not fine, and he was *not* going to let go until he got an explanation. "Helga..."
She didn't answer this time, just stood there looking away, trying to hide the pain her arm was in.
Arnold sighed. "Come on, we're going to the nurse's office."
Helga eyes widened impossibly. "No!... I mean no, I don't need to, it's just a little bruised or something..."
Arnold wasn't about to take no for an answer, not this time. He didn't respond. With a firm but gentle grip on her arm he simply began to walk away. She had no choice but to follow him. As they walked through the doors, he looked back at her for a moment. She had this incredible look of hurt on her face, as if he had just betrayed her trust. He winced internally and swallowed, but didn't stop. Maybe he was betraying her, using her pain to force her to do something she didn't want to do, but she really needed help, and she wasn't going to get it on her own.
Not two steps into the hallway, they ran into the school psychiatrist. Arnold was expecting her to ask them why they weren't in class, but she just smiled kindly and handed Arnold a hall pass. Then she walked away without ever saying a word or even glancing in Helga's direction.
Weird.
Arnold shook his head, and continued to lead a now unresisting Helga to the nurse's office.
"Good heavens, what happened to you?" The nurse exclaimed upon seeing the arm.
Helga bit her lip nervously, trying to find an excuse. "Er...Baseball bat," she said shortly, "It was an accident." Technically that as the truth, Bob had been aiming for her head.
She saw Arnold frown. What, he wasn't buying her story? Too bad. It was true - in a manner of speaking. She wasn't going to offer anything else. Let him draw his own conclusions. Like it mattered.
The nurse had obviously drawn conclusions of her own. "Well, the way you kids play sports today, I swear, you'll like to kill yourself before long. Well, the arm is sprained. I'm going to wrap a bandage around it for now; you should have your parents take you to a doctor when you get home. Don't use that arm much for the next week or so, and no more baseball until about a week after that, you understand?"
Helga nodded, grimacing slightly inside. That shouldn't be a problem at all, not anymore.
"Well, now, you two get on back to class and be careful with yourselves from now on." Then she walked away, muttering to herself as she went to tend another kid.
When they were safely in the hall, Arnold turned on Helga. "You didn't hurt yourself playing baseball."
She sniffed, turning away. "Who said I did?" Then she started to walk away.
"*You* said you did, Helga," He said, jogging a few steps to catch up with her, "And it was a lie. You didn't hurt yourself playing baseball, or any other sport!"
Helga said nothing, just kept going.
"Helga, I want the truth!"
"How do YOU know, that's not what happened, footballhead? Just because I wasn't with *you* when *you* played? For your information, I didn't lie. You don't know. You don't know me, and you don't know anything *about* me. So butt out, bucko, until you know what's really going down. Or else."
With that, she turned and walked away without another word. All Arnold could do was follow her the rest of the way to class, and think about what she had said.
Phoebe and Gerald cornered him right after school, but Arnold refused to talk until they were safely in his room. Immediately he was bombarded with questions he couldn't answer. So he just sat there until they calmed down. Eventually they did, and Gerald was the first to get a question in.
"So, did you actually get to talk to Helga, or what?"
"Yes I did," Arnold replied calmly.
"Did she talk to you?"
"Yes."
"How is she?" Phoebe asked quietly, looking at the floor.
Arnold hesitated. "It's hard to tell. She's very... confusing. She *acted* like she was okay, but I don't think she was at all." His voice faded to silence, remembering.
"What's wrong with her?" Phoebe probed gently.
Again Arnold hesitated. "I don't know. It was just a feeling I got. She was so defensive. When I asked her if something was wrong she was yelling no practically before I got the words out of my mouth. Plus, her arm was sprained."
"WHAT?" Two sets of eyes widened a little.
Arnold frowned, "You must have seen, when we came back to class. She had a bandage on her arm."
They both shook their heads. "She *was* holding one of her arms really close," Phoebe ventured, "She could have been hiding the bandage."
Arnold shrugged. He'd known it was there, maybe he had seen it because he knew what to look for. "The thing is, when we were on the playground, I grabbed her hand, that's how I knew she was hurt. It was all swollen and red. But she didn't have anything on it at all. I had to force her to go to the nurse! She really didn't want to go."
He frowned again, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind. There was just something that was missing. "Then when the nurse asked her what happened, she told her she hurt it playing baseball. I'm sure she didn't get hurt playing baseball, so why didn't she just tell the truth?"
"You didn't ask her?" Gerald wondered. After all, this was Arnold they were talking about here. His friend had a reputation for badgering out the truth. He wouldn't just let something like that go, would he?
Arnold looked offended. "No I *did*, but she kept saying she was telling the truth. She said just because she wasn't with us didn't mean she was lying. So... does she have some other friends somewhere, ones that we don't know about?"
"Helga?" Gerald said incredulously. "I don't know. That sounds a little out there."
"But it is possible," Arnold said. "We don't know what she's been doing after school. She was right. It *could* have happened."
"No." Phoebe said, speaking up finally. "What did Helga say, exactly, when talking with the school nurse?"
"She just said she was playing baseball. And that it was an accident."
"No," Phoebe said again, "Helga is an excellent wordsmith. She doesn't like to lie, no matter what she might say. She usually finds a way to word things so that they are enough of the truth to scoot by. What did she say *exactly*?"
"Umm... she said 'a baseball bat. It was an accident." Arnold said, coming as close as he could remember.
Phoebe was staring into space, thinking hard. "And when you confronted her, what did she say to you then?"
"She said how did I know? And that it was the truth... no, she said it wasn't a lie. Then she said I didn't know her or anything about her and to butt out until I really knew what was going on." Who ever remembered exact words, anyway?
Phoebe had closed her eyes, and looked as if she was trying to figure something out, yet trying to deny something at the same time.
"Wasn't she limping a few days ago too?" Gerald spoke up, "I remember seeing her limp once or twice. It looked like she was trying to hide it."
"Yeah," Arnold agreed, "In fact, that started right after that day, didn't it? I wonder what happened to her."
Phoebe suddenly let out a whoosh of air, and her eyes shot open. "Oh!" she gasped. "Oh no. No!"
"Phoebe what's wrong?" Gerald cried.
"Oh my gosh, that was it. On the phone. She tried to tell me!" Phoebe exclaimed in horror. "The night before. She tried to tell me and I didn't listen. Oh my gosh, I'm such a bad friend!" She had suddenly and unequivocally discovered exactly what this whole thing was about, and she was terrified by the prospect.
"What, what did she try to tell you?" both boys watched helplessly as Phoebe's eyes filled with tears.
"This is all my fault!" She cried. "I should have known."
"Phoebe!" Arnold shouted. She quieted and looked at him. "What is going on?"
"I think I know, why Helga said what she said, why she's got those injuries. She tried to tell me, the night before on the phone, but I got another call, and the next day..." Phoebe shook her head against the enormity of what she thought was happening. "It's just, if I'm right, it is extremely bad."
"So, what do you think it is?" Gerald said.
"If I told you, Helga would never forgive me." Phoebe said with pleading eyes.
"If you don't tell us, it may get worse. Maybe we can help." Arnold said patiently.
Phoebe bit her lip, racked with indecision.
"okay... but you have to promise not to tell." she said slowly.
"We promise." They said in unison.
Phoebe took a breath. "When Helga was little, her dad used to hit her. You probably don't remember, but in kindergarden she would always have new bruises or a broken bone. She told a teacher, and Bob stopped hurting her, but..." Phoebe bit her lip a little, unable to watch their reactions, she hurried on. "If he's started doing it again, well, everything would fit. What she started to tell me on the phone. Why she suddenly pulled away from everybody. Why she's been limping and has a sprained arm. In fact, that could be what made her excuse truth, if Bob hit her with a bat."
Everyone winced at that, and grew silent. It was a lot to process.
Finally Arnold cleared his throat and spoke up rather hoarsely. "Phoebe, we have to tell someone."
"No! You promised." Phoebe said.
"Phoebe, this is not something we can keep to ourselves. He could seriously hurt her if we don't do something. Do you really want something like that to happen to her?"
Phoebe looked away. "No. But we can't say anything until we talk to her, okay?"
"Alright, let's talk to her tomorrow, then." Arnold wasn't letting up. He was horrified to hear something like this, and his moral justice had just kicked into overdrive. Nobody deserved something like that, not even Helga.
Phoebe gave a defeated sigh. "We have to do this right, or she'll hate us all. She already going to hate me for betraying her trust. We have to plan how we're going to approach this."
They all nodded.
"Don't worry Phoebe," Gerald said comfortingly, "Things will turn out okay. We've got Arnold on the case now."
Arnold threw a pillow at him and they all sat down, talking and planning long into the night.
I just wanted to note that I am not trying to make problems for every character in this fic. The "fight" between Arnold's grandparents was nothing more than their normal bickering. Sometimes our perceptions of an event or thing differ with how we feel or other circumstances. This was just one way of showing how this was adversely affecting Arnold.
Before I start, I've received a few complaints about the characters, well Bob, being out of character, and the story being too serious. Sorry. I'm not an expert on this cartoon. I've seen it a few times, read a few episode scripts and read what some of the fans have written. You are all right, the show is more or less lighthearted and Bob seems harmless enough. Yet, from what I've seen of his personality, and from the perspective of someone who has studied psychology, he does have the personality for abuse. It was not a huge stretch of the imagination for him to become physically abusive, as he is already emotionally and mentally abusive. Someone pointed out to me that he did bond with Helga in an episode. I recently saw that one. It was nice. Take it from someone who knows, though. Abusive personalities often deeply love or respect the people that they hurt. Most of the time, it's an issue of control.
And for those who didn't like the seriousness and/or the subject matter. I did put a warning up. I will state it again. This story contains child abuse.
I have been reading your comments. Thank you.
Hey Arnold and the characters within do not belong to me.
"Realization"
A week passed. Summer, slowly giving way to Fall, was barely clinging to the life it once had led. Things had slipped into a somewhat dreary routine of school and home life. It was as if a small black cloud were hanging just overhead at all times. A general feeling of discontent seemed to be taking everyone over, as if something was just out of balance.
And he couldn't for the life of him figure out what that was.
Lately the boarders had been more bitter and complaining than ever. They were constantly fighting and bickering and complaining over the tiniest thing, and he was finding it harder and harder to ignore them. Worse, though, was the fact that his grandparents seemed to want to thrust him in the middle of everything, including a recent argument they'd had that seemed to have left them increasingly hostile towards each other. He wasn't sure how, but somewhere in the midst of ranting about the Alamo and going off on secret reconnaissance missions in search of Russian spies, his grandmother had actually offended his grandfather, who wasn't about to let it drop. For the last two days "pookie" had seemed more than a little demeaning and Arnold suspected his grandmother was purposely making all the foods that made his grandfather sick.
Or maybe it was his perception of things.
He had to admit, with things the way they were at school, he couldn't be sure his judgment wasn't altered, that he wasn't looking for things to be wrong. The Helga Situation wasn't getting any better. She still wasn't talking to, or even now acknowledging, anyone other than Brainy, and he wasn't sure she was even talking to him. She just tolerated him more, allowed him around her as she chased everyone else away with a look that promised certain torturous death.
And Phoebe was still more than a little upset. She had taken to spending all her time with him and Gerald. Not that they minded helping her, it was just weird to be around her all the time, especially without someone else always lurking behind her. It had also taken awhile to convince her that they didn't want her to do anything for them. She had continually tried to anticipate both of them and get their lunches for them or pick up their books or other such acts of servitude. They were still trying to break her of that, but she just kept doing it, almost as if she would feel useless if she didn't.
It was definitely a change, and one he was not sure he liked. This was one situation he didn't know how to fix. He didn't know what the right thing to do was. He didn't even know the problem.
It was recess. Helga and Brainy were sitting alone in the corner Helga had claimed for herself. No one went near her, they didn't even look over. They had already gotten used to the new order of things - an order without Helga Pataki. Not much else had changed, Arnold had noted, except for Phoebe, everyone stayed with the same friends, everyone held their same level of popularity, the leaders were still the leaders, the geeks were still the geeks and the bullies still the bullies. It had surprised Arnold how little Helga had actually meant to her classmates. In fact, beyond the first few days of curiosity, no one seemed to even notice she was gone with the exception of Stinky who had commented that it was "a mite more peaceful without her bullien' anymore".
He wondered what would happen if he were in her situation. Would his lack of presence affect them?
It was a sobering thought, and he bit his lip in agitation as he looked over at Helga and Brainy. Phoebe and Gerald, beside him, were doing the same. It had become their tradition since the incident. Kind of a silent vigil over a lost friend, only without the grave. They rarely talked about it, just watched, trying to glean a reason from her actions where they couldn't find one in words. Sometimes they talked, but in hushed voices. This was one of those days.
"Hey Arnold," Gerald said tentatively, "why do you suppose she lets Brainy near her and no one else?"
"I don't know, Gerald," Arnold said, puzzled also. He'd thought about that before, but couldn't come up with a reason. He'd thought she hated Brainy, she was always so mean to him.
"It's because he wasn't there," Phoebe murmured absently.
"What?" Both boys were staring at her.
"He wasn't there that day, remember?" Phoebe said, now looking back up at them, "I guess she doesn't blame him for whatever we did. He wasn't there to do anything to her, and he wasn't there to see her blow up." Phoebe's voice turned to a whisper, "All the rest of us were."
"I wasn't," Arnold said without thinking. Actually, he *was* thinking, but he was thinking about the explanation Phoebe had just given him. It made sense, but then, when did Phoebe not make sense?
He realized both of them were staring at *him* now.
"What?"
"You're right, Arnold, you weren't there," Phoebe exclaimed excitedly, "maybe *you* could talk to her! I bet she'd let *you*!"
"Phoebe I don't think..." The words died in Arnold's throat. Phoebe was looking up at him with such a hopeful expression. He just couldn't say no, not if there was a chance he could help.
He sighed.
"Alright," he said, "I'll try at the end of recess." Phoebe actually smiled, the first time in a week. Arnold shook his head as she turned away, "If she doesn't pound me first!" He muttered under his breath. He felt a clap on his back, and saw Gerald there, smiling with pity. He knew Gerald had heard and understood.
They all sat in silence until the end of recess bell sounded. Arnold waited until most of the kids had gone inside, knowing that Helga tended to avoid the onrushing crowd now, so she would wait till last also. Dust cleared and silence began to set in as the kids abandoned the playground. It seemed to Arnold that he and Helga were suddenly completely alone, no one around for miles. Even Brainy was missing. Arnold wasn't sure how that had happened, but he was privately grateful. It would be infinitely harder to try to talk to Helga with an audience.
It felt like an old western standoff - right before the onslaught of gunfire.
Helga didn't look at him; she may not have even realized he was there. She started for the door leading inside. It was now or never.
"Helga," Arnold broke the silence tentatively. To his surprised she stopped, pausing for a moment, then she shook her head and kept going. "Helga, wait, ok?"
She stopped again, and this time turned around, her fiercest glare directed at him. He gulped, but stepped nearer to her. "Helga, listen... I want to talk to you, please." She didn't say a word, but the intensity of the glare lessened and she tilted her head slightly at him.
He took that as a good sign and moved forward, until he was standing in front of her. He paused, searching for how to begin. "I, I wanted to know... Are you okay?"
Her world tilted in that moment. She'd seen him watching and felt him lurking around her as she tried to enter the school. She hadn't been sure just what was about. She didn't think it would be pleasant. Someone like him, someone good and happy, he couldn't possibly understand what she was going through. She should just ignore him like everyone else.
But she couldn't. She'd tried, but when he said her name, asked her to wait, she couldn't seem to make her legs go forward. Instead, they *turned around*. Traitors. So she waited trying to scare him of with her look of doom. He'd stayed, though. That had really surprised her. She began to wonder... then he'd asked to talk with her. She felt her face sag with disappointment. She knew he'd been hanging out with Phoebe. She was still watching over Phoebe, just from a distance, without her knowing. Helga figured that Arnold was here to lecture her on how bad she'd made Phoebe feel. Like she didn't already know. It haunted her every day. Her pride, that hideous bug that lived within her, prevented her from doing anything about it. It didn't matter anyway, Phoebe deserved someone who wasn't completely worthless, like she was.
"...Are you okay?" Her world tilted. That was not what she had expected, and her mind suddenly couldn't function.
"What?" She said without thinking. Immediately she regretted it. She had broken her silence.
But this encouraged Arnold. His stance became a little bolder and he felt it easier to say his next words. "It's just that you're acting so... unlike you. I just wondered what happened."
Helga took a moment to look at him. He *looked* earnest enough. She thought back to that day. Had he been there? Frowning, she searched the picture she kept in the back of her mind. Phoebe of course, had been there, and Gerald, Stinky, Curly, Harold... she could see almost everyone in class, but not Arnold. Was it possible that he hadn't been there?
"I'm fine," she told him, trying to sound harsh, the way she remembered. It came out a lot softer than she had intended, lighter too. Her words didn't quite carry the 'drop it and leave me alone' she had intended. Now she wasn't sure what to do.
Arnold had come to speak to Helga about Phoebe. Now he realized that this wasn't the time. She was actually being civil and he had the feeling that if he mentioned Phoebe, Helga would quickly revert to insults, or worse to her silence. For now, maybe he could find out what her problem was, and then, maybe he could help everyone.
"So... would you like to talk about it?"
"No!" That answer had come too quickly, with too much force behind it. It only piqued Arnold's curiosity.
"Well maybe I could help you. You know, give you some advice or something."
"No." She said again, vehemenantly.
"Helga, something's obviously wrong. Have you told anyone?" Undaunted, Arnold stepped forward, taking a closer look at her. Now there was fear and trapped anger in her eyes. Why?
"No! There's nothing wrong, leave me alone footballhead!" She was panicking now, he could tell, trying to make him mad.
She was backing away, she was going to leave. He couldn't let her do that. Not when he felt like he was getting close. As she turned and started to dash away, Arnold reached out and grabbed her hand to halt her. She yelped in pain and stopped dead. She didn't move a muscle, just stood very still breathing hard against the pain. Slowly, she turned and looked at Arnold with pained eyes, silently pleading with him to release her.
He didn't. Loosening his grip, her carefully turned her arm over and examined it. Even that little bit of motion had hurt her. He heard her gasp, then hold her breath. Her arm was swollen, and turning an angry red.
Arnold gaped up at her, still not letting go of her wrist, though now he was holding it as lightly as he could. "What happened to your arm, Helga?"
I'm FINE, footballhead!" She hissed through clenched teeth. "Let go of me!"
Obviously she was not fine, and he was *not* going to let go until he got an explanation. "Helga..."
She didn't answer this time, just stood there looking away, trying to hide the pain her arm was in.
Arnold sighed. "Come on, we're going to the nurse's office."
Helga eyes widened impossibly. "No!... I mean no, I don't need to, it's just a little bruised or something..."
Arnold wasn't about to take no for an answer, not this time. He didn't respond. With a firm but gentle grip on her arm he simply began to walk away. She had no choice but to follow him. As they walked through the doors, he looked back at her for a moment. She had this incredible look of hurt on her face, as if he had just betrayed her trust. He winced internally and swallowed, but didn't stop. Maybe he was betraying her, using her pain to force her to do something she didn't want to do, but she really needed help, and she wasn't going to get it on her own.
Not two steps into the hallway, they ran into the school psychiatrist. Arnold was expecting her to ask them why they weren't in class, but she just smiled kindly and handed Arnold a hall pass. Then she walked away without ever saying a word or even glancing in Helga's direction.
Weird.
Arnold shook his head, and continued to lead a now unresisting Helga to the nurse's office.
"Good heavens, what happened to you?" The nurse exclaimed upon seeing the arm.
Helga bit her lip nervously, trying to find an excuse. "Er...Baseball bat," she said shortly, "It was an accident." Technically that as the truth, Bob had been aiming for her head.
She saw Arnold frown. What, he wasn't buying her story? Too bad. It was true - in a manner of speaking. She wasn't going to offer anything else. Let him draw his own conclusions. Like it mattered.
The nurse had obviously drawn conclusions of her own. "Well, the way you kids play sports today, I swear, you'll like to kill yourself before long. Well, the arm is sprained. I'm going to wrap a bandage around it for now; you should have your parents take you to a doctor when you get home. Don't use that arm much for the next week or so, and no more baseball until about a week after that, you understand?"
Helga nodded, grimacing slightly inside. That shouldn't be a problem at all, not anymore.
"Well, now, you two get on back to class and be careful with yourselves from now on." Then she walked away, muttering to herself as she went to tend another kid.
When they were safely in the hall, Arnold turned on Helga. "You didn't hurt yourself playing baseball."
She sniffed, turning away. "Who said I did?" Then she started to walk away.
"*You* said you did, Helga," He said, jogging a few steps to catch up with her, "And it was a lie. You didn't hurt yourself playing baseball, or any other sport!"
Helga said nothing, just kept going.
"Helga, I want the truth!"
"How do YOU know, that's not what happened, footballhead? Just because I wasn't with *you* when *you* played? For your information, I didn't lie. You don't know. You don't know me, and you don't know anything *about* me. So butt out, bucko, until you know what's really going down. Or else."
With that, she turned and walked away without another word. All Arnold could do was follow her the rest of the way to class, and think about what she had said.
Phoebe and Gerald cornered him right after school, but Arnold refused to talk until they were safely in his room. Immediately he was bombarded with questions he couldn't answer. So he just sat there until they calmed down. Eventually they did, and Gerald was the first to get a question in.
"So, did you actually get to talk to Helga, or what?"
"Yes I did," Arnold replied calmly.
"Did she talk to you?"
"Yes."
"How is she?" Phoebe asked quietly, looking at the floor.
Arnold hesitated. "It's hard to tell. She's very... confusing. She *acted* like she was okay, but I don't think she was at all." His voice faded to silence, remembering.
"What's wrong with her?" Phoebe probed gently.
Again Arnold hesitated. "I don't know. It was just a feeling I got. She was so defensive. When I asked her if something was wrong she was yelling no practically before I got the words out of my mouth. Plus, her arm was sprained."
"WHAT?" Two sets of eyes widened a little.
Arnold frowned, "You must have seen, when we came back to class. She had a bandage on her arm."
They both shook their heads. "She *was* holding one of her arms really close," Phoebe ventured, "She could have been hiding the bandage."
Arnold shrugged. He'd known it was there, maybe he had seen it because he knew what to look for. "The thing is, when we were on the playground, I grabbed her hand, that's how I knew she was hurt. It was all swollen and red. But she didn't have anything on it at all. I had to force her to go to the nurse! She really didn't want to go."
He frowned again, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind. There was just something that was missing. "Then when the nurse asked her what happened, she told her she hurt it playing baseball. I'm sure she didn't get hurt playing baseball, so why didn't she just tell the truth?"
"You didn't ask her?" Gerald wondered. After all, this was Arnold they were talking about here. His friend had a reputation for badgering out the truth. He wouldn't just let something like that go, would he?
Arnold looked offended. "No I *did*, but she kept saying she was telling the truth. She said just because she wasn't with us didn't mean she was lying. So... does she have some other friends somewhere, ones that we don't know about?"
"Helga?" Gerald said incredulously. "I don't know. That sounds a little out there."
"But it is possible," Arnold said. "We don't know what she's been doing after school. She was right. It *could* have happened."
"No." Phoebe said, speaking up finally. "What did Helga say, exactly, when talking with the school nurse?"
"She just said she was playing baseball. And that it was an accident."
"No," Phoebe said again, "Helga is an excellent wordsmith. She doesn't like to lie, no matter what she might say. She usually finds a way to word things so that they are enough of the truth to scoot by. What did she say *exactly*?"
"Umm... she said 'a baseball bat. It was an accident." Arnold said, coming as close as he could remember.
Phoebe was staring into space, thinking hard. "And when you confronted her, what did she say to you then?"
"She said how did I know? And that it was the truth... no, she said it wasn't a lie. Then she said I didn't know her or anything about her and to butt out until I really knew what was going on." Who ever remembered exact words, anyway?
Phoebe had closed her eyes, and looked as if she was trying to figure something out, yet trying to deny something at the same time.
"Wasn't she limping a few days ago too?" Gerald spoke up, "I remember seeing her limp once or twice. It looked like she was trying to hide it."
"Yeah," Arnold agreed, "In fact, that started right after that day, didn't it? I wonder what happened to her."
Phoebe suddenly let out a whoosh of air, and her eyes shot open. "Oh!" she gasped. "Oh no. No!"
"Phoebe what's wrong?" Gerald cried.
"Oh my gosh, that was it. On the phone. She tried to tell me!" Phoebe exclaimed in horror. "The night before. She tried to tell me and I didn't listen. Oh my gosh, I'm such a bad friend!" She had suddenly and unequivocally discovered exactly what this whole thing was about, and she was terrified by the prospect.
"What, what did she try to tell you?" both boys watched helplessly as Phoebe's eyes filled with tears.
"This is all my fault!" She cried. "I should have known."
"Phoebe!" Arnold shouted. She quieted and looked at him. "What is going on?"
"I think I know, why Helga said what she said, why she's got those injuries. She tried to tell me, the night before on the phone, but I got another call, and the next day..." Phoebe shook her head against the enormity of what she thought was happening. "It's just, if I'm right, it is extremely bad."
"So, what do you think it is?" Gerald said.
"If I told you, Helga would never forgive me." Phoebe said with pleading eyes.
"If you don't tell us, it may get worse. Maybe we can help." Arnold said patiently.
Phoebe bit her lip, racked with indecision.
"okay... but you have to promise not to tell." she said slowly.
"We promise." They said in unison.
Phoebe took a breath. "When Helga was little, her dad used to hit her. You probably don't remember, but in kindergarden she would always have new bruises or a broken bone. She told a teacher, and Bob stopped hurting her, but..." Phoebe bit her lip a little, unable to watch their reactions, she hurried on. "If he's started doing it again, well, everything would fit. What she started to tell me on the phone. Why she suddenly pulled away from everybody. Why she's been limping and has a sprained arm. In fact, that could be what made her excuse truth, if Bob hit her with a bat."
Everyone winced at that, and grew silent. It was a lot to process.
Finally Arnold cleared his throat and spoke up rather hoarsely. "Phoebe, we have to tell someone."
"No! You promised." Phoebe said.
"Phoebe, this is not something we can keep to ourselves. He could seriously hurt her if we don't do something. Do you really want something like that to happen to her?"
Phoebe looked away. "No. But we can't say anything until we talk to her, okay?"
"Alright, let's talk to her tomorrow, then." Arnold wasn't letting up. He was horrified to hear something like this, and his moral justice had just kicked into overdrive. Nobody deserved something like that, not even Helga.
Phoebe gave a defeated sigh. "We have to do this right, or she'll hate us all. She already going to hate me for betraying her trust. We have to plan how we're going to approach this."
They all nodded.
"Don't worry Phoebe," Gerald said comfortingly, "Things will turn out okay. We've got Arnold on the case now."
Arnold threw a pillow at him and they all sat down, talking and planning long into the night.
I just wanted to note that I am not trying to make problems for every character in this fic. The "fight" between Arnold's grandparents was nothing more than their normal bickering. Sometimes our perceptions of an event or thing differ with how we feel or other circumstances. This was just one way of showing how this was adversely affecting Arnold.