Phoebe knew there was no backing out now. Arnold would want to know why she
wanted to talk to him about Helga, and Arnold wasn't likely to forget about
something like this in a hurry. She had no choice but to proceed.
The serious expression on her soft face returned, as she looked straight into Arnold's confused eyes. "She needs you Arnold. You're the only one who can help her." Arnold frowned, he still didn't understand why.
"What do you mean? She won't even talk to me!" Phoebe shook her head in despair.
"Please Arnold, you have to try! She isn't well, and I'm worried about her..." Arnold opened his mouth in protest, but Phoebe interrupted. "Please! She will talk to you, but you have to promise me that you'll listen, this time." Arnold wanted a way out of this. Did he know what she was trying to tell him? Something at the back of his mind was making him uncomfortable under her concerned gaze; maybe because, he knew she was right. He wanted to brush this off, but he couldn't do that. It wouldn't be the right thing to do. Phoebe was right, he has to act now, he has to do something to help Helga, to let her know that he is there for her. He just doesn't want to face reality. What was it Helga had said once? '...Always goin' around with your head in the clouds!' That was the reality really. Well, occasionally, change is good.
"Okay Phoebe, if you're sure it will help. She's gonna hate me for this y'know!" Phoebe smiled brightly and stood up, grabbing Arnold's hand, pulling him up with her. She practically dragged him over to the other side of the park; Arnold was quite surprised by this. "Phoebe?" All those years of being best friends with Helga Pataki must have had an effect on her, he concluded.
"Remember Arnold," Phoebe had stopped and turned to him. Her hard but anxious eyes burnt into him. "Don't give up on her, and don't shut her out either okay?" Arnold still looked confused. He was unaware of the girl in the pink dress that lay wearily on the bench behind a bush they were standing next to. That is, until Phoebe pushed him out from around the foliage and towards that very bench. Okay, now or never I suppose...
Helga had her eyes shut, and when she heard the rustle of leaves, she thought it was Phoebe. "Just five more minutes Pheebs." she said softly. But the voice that replied was not that of her best friend.
"Erm, hi Helga" her heart skipped a beat.
"Arnold?!" she yelped, shooting bolt upright on the bench, the sudden movement causing her head to spin. She held her stomach and head, looking quite pale. It took her a moment to compose herself. "Ooh" she groaned.
"Are you okay? You look really pale Helga. Maybe you should see a doctor..." Arnold sat down next to her, forehead knotted with concern.
"What?! Doctor?! Crimeny! Who asked you Football Head?! And where the heck did you suddenly appear from?! Can't you go and bug somebody else for a change? Sheesh!" but she seemed uneasy rather than mad. There was still that awkwardness between them, and neither liked this uneasy feeling.
Helga stood up, still holding her pounding head as she began to stomp off. She didn't want to have this conversation.
"Helga wait! I, I need to talk to you..." He rose from the bench and began to follow her retreating figure. Instantly she spun around to face him, forcing a scowl.
"Well sorry to burst your bubble Hair Boy, but I'm here with Phoebe and I don't have time for another one of your lame Football Headed speeches, so get lost bucko!" she growled, cursing Phoebe in her mind for deserting her like this.
"Err, Helga," he gestured towards the park gates where Phoebe and Gerald could be seen leaving, together. "I don't think you need to worry about Phoebe. Please, just hear me out." he pleaded. Helga was trapped and panicking, but she kept her cool, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow.
"Fine then!" she snarled. "Spill."
"It's just, lately, you... what I mean is, I'm, well..." he avoided her eyes. What was he supposed to say to her anyway?
"Oh spit it out Football Head! I ain't got all day!" she pushed past him and plopped back down on the bench dramatically to emphasize her frustration. She could feel the tension, and she didn't like it. Neither did he. Arnold followed her example and sat down next to her.
"I'm worried about you!" he blurted out. "You're acting so weird, and it's not like you..." He saw the briefly sincere shock on her face, but it was quickly replaced with her classic frown. She looked deadly with those darkly ringed eyes.
"That's what you wanted to tell me?" she said flatly, before bursting into a bitter laugh; such a sound that only Helga could make. He hated that laugh, so cold and empty. So fake. He frowned in disapproval. "Oh your too funny!" She composed herself and wiped away a tear. "But seriously, what was it you wanted to say?"
"Helga!"
"What?"
"I mean it Helga! I'm worried about you! So is Phoebe, she said you needed me, and I'm not gonna give up until I find out what's wrong!" Ooh! Phoebe's a dead girl!
Helga gritted her teeth. She wanted out, right now! No more games. Her head was painful, her heart was heavy, and those green eyes were like lazars burning into her. She clenched her fists under the pressure.
"Nothing's 'wrong' Hair Boy, and I don't have to talk to YOU if I don't want to!" Arnold was taken aback, but Phoebe's words pushed him on.
"Why not Helga? I want to help you!" He could see something in her break, like a crack in a dam. Her eyes appeared positively wild and her clenched fists began to tremble.
"No you don't! Stop it! Just stop it! You're always helping people, anyone! Well, this just in bucko, I don't want your help okay?!" She stood up and began to trudge away, but Arnold wasn't going to ignore her this time. He followed her, determined.
"Helga wait!"
The serious expression on her soft face returned, as she looked straight into Arnold's confused eyes. "She needs you Arnold. You're the only one who can help her." Arnold frowned, he still didn't understand why.
"What do you mean? She won't even talk to me!" Phoebe shook her head in despair.
"Please Arnold, you have to try! She isn't well, and I'm worried about her..." Arnold opened his mouth in protest, but Phoebe interrupted. "Please! She will talk to you, but you have to promise me that you'll listen, this time." Arnold wanted a way out of this. Did he know what she was trying to tell him? Something at the back of his mind was making him uncomfortable under her concerned gaze; maybe because, he knew she was right. He wanted to brush this off, but he couldn't do that. It wouldn't be the right thing to do. Phoebe was right, he has to act now, he has to do something to help Helga, to let her know that he is there for her. He just doesn't want to face reality. What was it Helga had said once? '...Always goin' around with your head in the clouds!' That was the reality really. Well, occasionally, change is good.
"Okay Phoebe, if you're sure it will help. She's gonna hate me for this y'know!" Phoebe smiled brightly and stood up, grabbing Arnold's hand, pulling him up with her. She practically dragged him over to the other side of the park; Arnold was quite surprised by this. "Phoebe?" All those years of being best friends with Helga Pataki must have had an effect on her, he concluded.
"Remember Arnold," Phoebe had stopped and turned to him. Her hard but anxious eyes burnt into him. "Don't give up on her, and don't shut her out either okay?" Arnold still looked confused. He was unaware of the girl in the pink dress that lay wearily on the bench behind a bush they were standing next to. That is, until Phoebe pushed him out from around the foliage and towards that very bench. Okay, now or never I suppose...
Helga had her eyes shut, and when she heard the rustle of leaves, she thought it was Phoebe. "Just five more minutes Pheebs." she said softly. But the voice that replied was not that of her best friend.
"Erm, hi Helga" her heart skipped a beat.
"Arnold?!" she yelped, shooting bolt upright on the bench, the sudden movement causing her head to spin. She held her stomach and head, looking quite pale. It took her a moment to compose herself. "Ooh" she groaned.
"Are you okay? You look really pale Helga. Maybe you should see a doctor..." Arnold sat down next to her, forehead knotted with concern.
"What?! Doctor?! Crimeny! Who asked you Football Head?! And where the heck did you suddenly appear from?! Can't you go and bug somebody else for a change? Sheesh!" but she seemed uneasy rather than mad. There was still that awkwardness between them, and neither liked this uneasy feeling.
Helga stood up, still holding her pounding head as she began to stomp off. She didn't want to have this conversation.
"Helga wait! I, I need to talk to you..." He rose from the bench and began to follow her retreating figure. Instantly she spun around to face him, forcing a scowl.
"Well sorry to burst your bubble Hair Boy, but I'm here with Phoebe and I don't have time for another one of your lame Football Headed speeches, so get lost bucko!" she growled, cursing Phoebe in her mind for deserting her like this.
"Err, Helga," he gestured towards the park gates where Phoebe and Gerald could be seen leaving, together. "I don't think you need to worry about Phoebe. Please, just hear me out." he pleaded. Helga was trapped and panicking, but she kept her cool, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow.
"Fine then!" she snarled. "Spill."
"It's just, lately, you... what I mean is, I'm, well..." he avoided her eyes. What was he supposed to say to her anyway?
"Oh spit it out Football Head! I ain't got all day!" she pushed past him and plopped back down on the bench dramatically to emphasize her frustration. She could feel the tension, and she didn't like it. Neither did he. Arnold followed her example and sat down next to her.
"I'm worried about you!" he blurted out. "You're acting so weird, and it's not like you..." He saw the briefly sincere shock on her face, but it was quickly replaced with her classic frown. She looked deadly with those darkly ringed eyes.
"That's what you wanted to tell me?" she said flatly, before bursting into a bitter laugh; such a sound that only Helga could make. He hated that laugh, so cold and empty. So fake. He frowned in disapproval. "Oh your too funny!" She composed herself and wiped away a tear. "But seriously, what was it you wanted to say?"
"Helga!"
"What?"
"I mean it Helga! I'm worried about you! So is Phoebe, she said you needed me, and I'm not gonna give up until I find out what's wrong!" Ooh! Phoebe's a dead girl!
Helga gritted her teeth. She wanted out, right now! No more games. Her head was painful, her heart was heavy, and those green eyes were like lazars burning into her. She clenched her fists under the pressure.
"Nothing's 'wrong' Hair Boy, and I don't have to talk to YOU if I don't want to!" Arnold was taken aback, but Phoebe's words pushed him on.
"Why not Helga? I want to help you!" He could see something in her break, like a crack in a dam. Her eyes appeared positively wild and her clenched fists began to tremble.
"No you don't! Stop it! Just stop it! You're always helping people, anyone! Well, this just in bucko, I don't want your help okay?!" She stood up and began to trudge away, but Arnold wasn't going to ignore her this time. He followed her, determined.
"Helga wait!"