chapter two (or is it one? anywho...): Pretending to be impressed
Helga wasn't impressed.
Then again, she rarely was. Not even the prospect of five minutes till total freedom from the hellishness of 8th grade (screw 8th grade; junior high school itself) managed to get Helga G. Pataki hyper. Or happy. Or impressed. Or anything. She just sat at her cold, hard desk (oak wood in a sad attempt to make school more homey; as if *that* would make *her* learn more) and sketched away as her classmates literally ran around psycho. Any attempts made to teach by dear old Mrs. Tauland (whom Helga was convinced had something permanently jammed up her ass), were soon abandoned in the face of a bottle of vodka.
Outwardly, Helga had changed little from "the Simmons Years". She hadn't blossomed. She was the tallest person in the class (save You-Know-Who...and even on he she was only about half a head shorter). She was also skinny; so skinny in fact that the average joe would swear she had anorexia, but she was just born that way and devoted to her art. She still had one eyebrow (she'd rather die than pluck it; beauty, in her book, was not worth pain) and still, as far as she was concerned, no boobs. Her hair, once sticking like poles out of her head, had been forced down into two low blonde tails by a backwards baseball cap she wore to replace her bow. Her bow, her locket, her book of poems had all been burned long ago...She didn't need them anymore. The entire outfit closet of Helga consisted of black leather pants, black over shirts and hot pink tank tops, which she wore without fail despite the dress code against anything showing skin. Not even the administration (whoever the heck they were) wished to deal with the creepy nameless girl in 8th grade who didn't talk except to answer teacher's questions and chat with the pretty Oriental.
Phoebe was in a constant state of worry of her nameless best friend. She herself had bloomed beautifully, mentally and physically. She was still the smartest (book-smartest, anyway) kid in the class, and was considered by many to be generous enough, if not rather quiet. And as far as looks went...well, that was something no one in the class had expected. She was average height for a girl, long black hair flowing to a slim waistline, curves in all the right places. Touche, she still wore glasses (her parents having strictly forbid contacts till "she was older"); but they were thin glasses, with lilac, rectangular frames and everyone agreed really that they made her look both smart and chic, a look longed for by a majority of the 8D female populace (Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd leading with a vengeance). It was impossible not to compare her ugly-duckling-with-no-apparent-swan- coming friend to she, the classy, smart babe of the ruling 8th grade. And that fact honestly was the one thing that really managed to piss Phoebe Hyerdahl off.
"Hi Helga," greeted Phoebe, finally cutting through the chaos and finding her best friend.
Helga jumped slightly, and glanced up to see who it was before looking back quickly down at her drawing.
"Oh, hey Pheebs."
"Why aren't you joining in the festivities?" asked the Always-There friend, anxiety cutting through her normally cheery tone like a knife. "After all, we may not be seeing each other againâ€""
"No offense Pheebs, but come off it." Helga began to draw even more vigorously as she went on. "The only people we aren't gonna be seeing again are all the people we don't really care about. Why should I care if Rhonda's going to some preppy school for rich kids or Curly's going to that...special school in southern Alabama? The point is, you're going to PS 218 and I'm going to PS 218 and so are all your "people", whoever they are. I couldn't really care less."
"But Rex isn't going to PS 218."
Helga carefully set down her pen, gave Phoebe "the look" and said in a blank sort of voice: "Funny. Considering he's your boyfriend, one would think that statement should've sounded sad. Hmmm...strange......"
Phoebe opened her mouth to argue, thought about it for a couple of seconds, then closed it again with a grin on her face.
"Don't even pretend to deny that you're not overjoyed to hear our dear friend Geraldo will be joining us there as well."
"Then you don't pretend you're not overjoyed to hear our dear friend Arnold will too," shot back Phoebe, face flushing red ferociously. She immediately knew that had been the wrong thing to say.
Helga's smile snapped off like a flashlight and she glared at her friend. Phoebe had opened her mouth to apologize, when suddenly Helga said, quietly, dangerously, "Phoebe. I don't loâ€"like him anymore. That was four years ago, some stupid fourth grade crush. Besides, there's no point feeling anything for someone who'll never feel anything for you but utter loathing." She blushed at Phoebe's face when the phrase "utter loathing" popped up. "Sorry, writer side butting in."
Phoebe stared down at Helga for a few long seconds before scooching in next to her on the plastic blue chair for one.
"Look Helga," began Phoebe in a serious tone which seemed to fit in her voice rather strangely. "After the incident...I didn't know what happened. No one did. I don't even think *you* did, nor know now. And, honestly Helga, I don't care how important the whatever-it-was on that paper wasâ€"it still doesn't give anyone, not even Arnold, the right to hate someone for four whole years about something that wasn't anybody's fault!"
"He said it had something to do with his parents, Phoebe!" Helga blurted out, not able to hold it in anymore. "I mean...I don't care if it was an accident, I still did it!! And I don't forgive myself, so why should he?! I mean, you say that it doesn't give him the right. 'The right'?!? What the heck is 'The Right'?!?! When does this 'Right' come into play in matters of the heart?! It doesn't!! That's right, IT DOESN'T." (note: by this time the entire eighth grade's conversations had dwindled away into silence as every child turned his or her attention to the raging Helga) "And ya know what, Pheebs?! I DON'T CARE!!! That's right: Let him ignore me for the next four years! Let "the right" screw me over! I don't care, Pheebs: I DON'T CARE."
Finally, it clicked in Helga's mind that the entire eighth grade had fallen into silence and was staring, blankly, directly at her normally silent, angry face. Her eyes widened in pure horror. Taking a long, slow, shaky breath, Helga stood up, trying to at the same time think fast of something clever to say and not burst into tears. Then, as if on some miraculous cue from Godâ€"
RINGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Immediately the awkward display of passion from the nameless one was whipped from the class's minds as they ran, screaming with joy, past her and Phoebe. As the last piece of old homework drifted wearily down to the floor, only three people were left in the room.
Phoebe stared at Helga; Helga stared at the wall.
Slowly, in that unthreatening delicate way Phoebe Hyerdahl was famous for doing everything in, the small Japanese-who-wasn't-really-technically- Japanese gathered her books and stood to meet Helga (who was still in shock). She opened her mouth to say something, when suddenly the third party in the room began to walk, steadily, subtly as possible towards the door. Helga had for years still pondered that walk which wasn't like Phoebe's (quick, light, usually shuffling slightly to keep up with someone), or Gerald's (confident, going his own pace, usually easily altering it to fit whomever he was walking with), or her own. This was a walk that was calm and careful and slow in pace, but still always looked slightly ready to run. A walk whose solitary goal in life seemed to look entirely unthreatening and maddeningly normal.
Helga spent a lot of her time looking at feet.
As both she and Phoebe tensely watched the former friend, the hater, the well-wisher, the one, walk that steady walk past, he himself pointingly looked ahead. Just when he was straight across from Helga, he stopped and looked at her.
To Phoebe this was an absolutely ordinary look, almost a glance; but to Helga, this was a test. This was a test to prove to him just how much she truly didn't care. This was a test to put to the test just how good she was at Pretending. And for Helga G. Pataki, Pretending did begin with a capital letter.
A few seconds later, he broke the gaze and walked on as if nothing had happened.
"What was that all about?" whispered Phoebe.
Helga remained silent until Phoebe was nearly 100% sure she wasn't going to respond when she said, gruffly, slipping back into the Pretending she'd lost that day in class, "He says he doesn't care either."
Arnold Pretended a lot too. But Helga wasn't impressed.
*~*
a/n: WHOOOOO!!!!! PEOPLE REVIEWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! as you can see, i've decided to be evil and drag the secret out just one...more.....chapter......... i'm wicked. :) BUT, if it helps, i did manage to squeeze in some major clues into this chapter (if you haven't worked out it's about his parents by now, you really need some help) i have chap 3 all planned out so it probably wont take as long as this one to put up. this chap was sort of to set up the plot some more and set up all the characters 4 yrs later (oh, by the way, guess what grade i just graduated from) i really want this story to be sorta different from the other romances out there but, hey!, that's what i always want in my stories :) oh! and of course this story'll end up A/H. i would never write a story for HA! that would possibly end up otherwise. oh, and have you ever noticed how HA, while it stands for Hey Arnold!, *could* also stand for Helga/Arnold. oh yeah...how smart am i? (*stops; thinks about it*) don't answer that.
Gir Beeblebroxâ€"yes!!! i love that song!!! i love that album!!! and I LOVE THE HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY!!!!! and invader zim ;)
chinyemagneâ€"me like caveman talk. me am easily amused. oh, and me like your "Helga the Enigma" fic...as you can probably tell by the mile long review. what? i get excited!
and to everybody else who reviewed, i send you all virtual fruitcakes and say thanks for reviewing my prologue!
as always, keep a mild groove on,
catwoman (the alias formerly known as rock-steady13)
Helga wasn't impressed.
Then again, she rarely was. Not even the prospect of five minutes till total freedom from the hellishness of 8th grade (screw 8th grade; junior high school itself) managed to get Helga G. Pataki hyper. Or happy. Or impressed. Or anything. She just sat at her cold, hard desk (oak wood in a sad attempt to make school more homey; as if *that* would make *her* learn more) and sketched away as her classmates literally ran around psycho. Any attempts made to teach by dear old Mrs. Tauland (whom Helga was convinced had something permanently jammed up her ass), were soon abandoned in the face of a bottle of vodka.
Outwardly, Helga had changed little from "the Simmons Years". She hadn't blossomed. She was the tallest person in the class (save You-Know-Who...and even on he she was only about half a head shorter). She was also skinny; so skinny in fact that the average joe would swear she had anorexia, but she was just born that way and devoted to her art. She still had one eyebrow (she'd rather die than pluck it; beauty, in her book, was not worth pain) and still, as far as she was concerned, no boobs. Her hair, once sticking like poles out of her head, had been forced down into two low blonde tails by a backwards baseball cap she wore to replace her bow. Her bow, her locket, her book of poems had all been burned long ago...She didn't need them anymore. The entire outfit closet of Helga consisted of black leather pants, black over shirts and hot pink tank tops, which she wore without fail despite the dress code against anything showing skin. Not even the administration (whoever the heck they were) wished to deal with the creepy nameless girl in 8th grade who didn't talk except to answer teacher's questions and chat with the pretty Oriental.
Phoebe was in a constant state of worry of her nameless best friend. She herself had bloomed beautifully, mentally and physically. She was still the smartest (book-smartest, anyway) kid in the class, and was considered by many to be generous enough, if not rather quiet. And as far as looks went...well, that was something no one in the class had expected. She was average height for a girl, long black hair flowing to a slim waistline, curves in all the right places. Touche, she still wore glasses (her parents having strictly forbid contacts till "she was older"); but they were thin glasses, with lilac, rectangular frames and everyone agreed really that they made her look both smart and chic, a look longed for by a majority of the 8D female populace (Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd leading with a vengeance). It was impossible not to compare her ugly-duckling-with-no-apparent-swan- coming friend to she, the classy, smart babe of the ruling 8th grade. And that fact honestly was the one thing that really managed to piss Phoebe Hyerdahl off.
"Hi Helga," greeted Phoebe, finally cutting through the chaos and finding her best friend.
Helga jumped slightly, and glanced up to see who it was before looking back quickly down at her drawing.
"Oh, hey Pheebs."
"Why aren't you joining in the festivities?" asked the Always-There friend, anxiety cutting through her normally cheery tone like a knife. "After all, we may not be seeing each other againâ€""
"No offense Pheebs, but come off it." Helga began to draw even more vigorously as she went on. "The only people we aren't gonna be seeing again are all the people we don't really care about. Why should I care if Rhonda's going to some preppy school for rich kids or Curly's going to that...special school in southern Alabama? The point is, you're going to PS 218 and I'm going to PS 218 and so are all your "people", whoever they are. I couldn't really care less."
"But Rex isn't going to PS 218."
Helga carefully set down her pen, gave Phoebe "the look" and said in a blank sort of voice: "Funny. Considering he's your boyfriend, one would think that statement should've sounded sad. Hmmm...strange......"
Phoebe opened her mouth to argue, thought about it for a couple of seconds, then closed it again with a grin on her face.
"Don't even pretend to deny that you're not overjoyed to hear our dear friend Geraldo will be joining us there as well."
"Then you don't pretend you're not overjoyed to hear our dear friend Arnold will too," shot back Phoebe, face flushing red ferociously. She immediately knew that had been the wrong thing to say.
Helga's smile snapped off like a flashlight and she glared at her friend. Phoebe had opened her mouth to apologize, when suddenly Helga said, quietly, dangerously, "Phoebe. I don't loâ€"like him anymore. That was four years ago, some stupid fourth grade crush. Besides, there's no point feeling anything for someone who'll never feel anything for you but utter loathing." She blushed at Phoebe's face when the phrase "utter loathing" popped up. "Sorry, writer side butting in."
Phoebe stared down at Helga for a few long seconds before scooching in next to her on the plastic blue chair for one.
"Look Helga," began Phoebe in a serious tone which seemed to fit in her voice rather strangely. "After the incident...I didn't know what happened. No one did. I don't even think *you* did, nor know now. And, honestly Helga, I don't care how important the whatever-it-was on that paper wasâ€"it still doesn't give anyone, not even Arnold, the right to hate someone for four whole years about something that wasn't anybody's fault!"
"He said it had something to do with his parents, Phoebe!" Helga blurted out, not able to hold it in anymore. "I mean...I don't care if it was an accident, I still did it!! And I don't forgive myself, so why should he?! I mean, you say that it doesn't give him the right. 'The right'?!? What the heck is 'The Right'?!?! When does this 'Right' come into play in matters of the heart?! It doesn't!! That's right, IT DOESN'T." (note: by this time the entire eighth grade's conversations had dwindled away into silence as every child turned his or her attention to the raging Helga) "And ya know what, Pheebs?! I DON'T CARE!!! That's right: Let him ignore me for the next four years! Let "the right" screw me over! I don't care, Pheebs: I DON'T CARE."
Finally, it clicked in Helga's mind that the entire eighth grade had fallen into silence and was staring, blankly, directly at her normally silent, angry face. Her eyes widened in pure horror. Taking a long, slow, shaky breath, Helga stood up, trying to at the same time think fast of something clever to say and not burst into tears. Then, as if on some miraculous cue from Godâ€"
RINGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Immediately the awkward display of passion from the nameless one was whipped from the class's minds as they ran, screaming with joy, past her and Phoebe. As the last piece of old homework drifted wearily down to the floor, only three people were left in the room.
Phoebe stared at Helga; Helga stared at the wall.
Slowly, in that unthreatening delicate way Phoebe Hyerdahl was famous for doing everything in, the small Japanese-who-wasn't-really-technically- Japanese gathered her books and stood to meet Helga (who was still in shock). She opened her mouth to say something, when suddenly the third party in the room began to walk, steadily, subtly as possible towards the door. Helga had for years still pondered that walk which wasn't like Phoebe's (quick, light, usually shuffling slightly to keep up with someone), or Gerald's (confident, going his own pace, usually easily altering it to fit whomever he was walking with), or her own. This was a walk that was calm and careful and slow in pace, but still always looked slightly ready to run. A walk whose solitary goal in life seemed to look entirely unthreatening and maddeningly normal.
Helga spent a lot of her time looking at feet.
As both she and Phoebe tensely watched the former friend, the hater, the well-wisher, the one, walk that steady walk past, he himself pointingly looked ahead. Just when he was straight across from Helga, he stopped and looked at her.
To Phoebe this was an absolutely ordinary look, almost a glance; but to Helga, this was a test. This was a test to prove to him just how much she truly didn't care. This was a test to put to the test just how good she was at Pretending. And for Helga G. Pataki, Pretending did begin with a capital letter.
A few seconds later, he broke the gaze and walked on as if nothing had happened.
"What was that all about?" whispered Phoebe.
Helga remained silent until Phoebe was nearly 100% sure she wasn't going to respond when she said, gruffly, slipping back into the Pretending she'd lost that day in class, "He says he doesn't care either."
Arnold Pretended a lot too. But Helga wasn't impressed.
*~*
a/n: WHOOOOO!!!!! PEOPLE REVIEWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! as you can see, i've decided to be evil and drag the secret out just one...more.....chapter......... i'm wicked. :) BUT, if it helps, i did manage to squeeze in some major clues into this chapter (if you haven't worked out it's about his parents by now, you really need some help) i have chap 3 all planned out so it probably wont take as long as this one to put up. this chap was sort of to set up the plot some more and set up all the characters 4 yrs later (oh, by the way, guess what grade i just graduated from) i really want this story to be sorta different from the other romances out there but, hey!, that's what i always want in my stories :) oh! and of course this story'll end up A/H. i would never write a story for HA! that would possibly end up otherwise. oh, and have you ever noticed how HA, while it stands for Hey Arnold!, *could* also stand for Helga/Arnold. oh yeah...how smart am i? (*stops; thinks about it*) don't answer that.
Gir Beeblebroxâ€"yes!!! i love that song!!! i love that album!!! and I LOVE THE HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY!!!!! and invader zim ;)
chinyemagneâ€"me like caveman talk. me am easily amused. oh, and me like your "Helga the Enigma" fic...as you can probably tell by the mile long review. what? i get excited!
and to everybody else who reviewed, i send you all virtual fruitcakes and say thanks for reviewing my prologue!
as always, keep a mild groove on,
catwoman (the alias formerly known as rock-steady13)