Forgiven
By Arnoldnhelga4eva
Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold. Leave me alone I'm not in the mood.
Hey, I'm back pretty quick. I'm a little depressed b/c I was cut from one of our dance teams. I was on High Kick/Precision and Jazz/Funk and I got cut from Kick b/c they want me to 'focus on jazz.' Well, I went home and told my mom, she blew up at me. There's more to it than that, so I wrote this to make my situation sound like nothing compared to Helga's. After talking to my best friend and a few other friends, I feel better, but I decided to post this anyway. Go ahead and flame me, I don't care. Just for the record, I didn't have to go to the hospital or think of suicide. I do have to go to the doctor Friday, but that's about it right now. My arches suck and I can't dance kick, so they want me to 'focus on jazz and heal my arches.' Well, here it is. Just remember, my mom wasn't this malicious or forcing.
-------------------------------------------------
"How in the world am I ever going to play sports ever again? He pushed me too far, and now I've injured myself for life. How did I get in this mess?
It all started at soccer try-outs. I'm only a freshman so I didn't know many people on the team. They put me on varsity, but warned me I may be pulled down to JV because of my knee.
I was so proud of myself that I went home, hoping my parents would be proud of me and for once they were. Bob threatened me though that if I didn't keep up with the team and got cut that he'd pull me from JV.
Then I got cut.
Tears were pouring out of my eyes as I begged him to go talk to the coach, to understand where they were coming from. He lightened up, a little but wouldn't let me forget it.
~*~
'You know, Olga played tennis, and she was Varsity all four years! You can't even stay on the team!! What's wrong with you!?'
'Bob! Tennis is different! It's less competitive and they cut me because of my knee--'
'There's no excuses. Patakis don't quit. You're just lazy and don't want to work hard. Olga was out there every stinkin' day hitting against the back board!'
~*~
It didn't stop there. My knee hadn't healed all the way from soccer, and I had to get a knee brace. It didn't help much but eased the pain for a little while. He still wouldn't accept the fact that I was injured and needed to rest--he just kept pushing and threatening me. I wanted it so bad, but couldn't do it. I wanted it so bad, but couldn't do it. It wasn't physically possible. He couldn't see that. All he cared about was how much he was getting out of it. He didn't give a rat's ass about my feelings; after all, I'm Pataki and Patakis are supposed to be strong.
~*~ 'If you don't run every day, you'll never make the basketball team, and I put money into those lessons. I want you to make Varsity, no acceptions!'
'But dad--'
'No but's, go out there and run. You'll never make it if you don't get in shape. How do you expect to run the courts if you can't run!?'
'But the doctor said--'
'I don't care what the doctor said Olga--'
'It's Helga!'
'Whatever I don't care. You're going out there and if you can't make Varsity, I'm going to make you quit JV and you'll work at the Beeper emporium till you can pay back all the money I put into this, do I make myself clear!?'
'Yes Bob.'
~*~
I mumbled and walked away, not wanting this row to continue any further. I ran up to my room and called Phoebe, threatening to kill myself. She was able to calm me down as I put the pill bottle down, thinking of a plan to run away from home. Phoebe told me I was crazy and told me to just try my best, that that's all I could give. I thanked her and hung up.
I talked to the coach and he had a meeting with my dad, and told him if I did any more damage to my leg that I may never play sports again. That shut Bob up.for a little while.
For the rest of the basketball season, he stayed quiet and ignored me. I mostly helped the team by passing out water and towels. He never came to any of the games; why would he? He never would even if I was playing. He just wanted to be able to brag, and to get what he paid for.
Too soon softball season came, and my knee wasn't any better. My coach forbid me to play, instead sent me to a physical therapist through the school. I went for awhile behind Bon's back. I just told him I was going to practice and for a while he believed me, until he actually decided to come to a game.
~*~
'What the hell do you mean she's not here!?'
'She's doing physical therapy Mr. Pataki. I won't let her play, she's injured badly.'
'She's fine. I'm going to find her, and she's going to play. Besides, she's fine now. I know she is. She's not limping.'
'We'll ask her trainer, then see where we go from there.'
~*~
The coach told me everything he said. That's where he made a mistake, by telling my dad I still had a chance. If he just told him that I wouldn't be able to play for the rest of the season, my knee may have been saved. But no--he had to give my dad that extra boost that I'd be okay. To Bob, the words 'maybe', or 'we'll see' meant yes. My physical therapist wasn't much help either.
~*~
'Well, her knee is progressing better, so I think she can try playing in a knee brace. She still needs to be careful though. One wrong move and she could injure herself for life. He may need surgery.'
'Hey hey hey! I'm not paying you seventy bucks--'
'Um, you're not paying me anything sir.'
'Oh, well she'd better be better or else I'll have your job.'
'Just remember, she needs to ice it and rest it whenever possible.'
~*~
My dad didn't listen to him. Every time I would go to ice my knee, he would tell me what a wuss I was being. I reminded him of his back, and he just snapped back.
~*~
'It's not the same girl! I went right back to work after my back got a little better.'
'But my knee is still injured. I can't do anything on it.'
'Hey hey hey! The doctor said it was better so you listen little lady. I want you out there telling your coach tomorrow that you're to start practice right away, no questions!'
~*~
That was his good night to me last night. I cried myself to sleep worrying about today. And whenever I worry about something, it always comes out for the worse.
I went to practice and convinced my coach it was fine for me to play. He let me play relentlessly, crossing his fingers that I wouldn't further injure myself, but crossing both of your fingers is said that it's bad luck. I gave it my all out there. I ran after everything even thought my knee was throbbing, wrenching, and twisting from the pain that shot through it.
I was so stupid to slide into home base. It felt like someone ripped part of my leg off and left the rest to dangle there. As soon as I figured out what happened, I sat up and let out a blood-curdling scream, and Bob saw the whole thing. It was then that he realized how much hard work I had put into this, to have it all come falling down on me. Everyone huddled around me as my coach came to inspect my knee, yelling at my dad.
~*~
'I told you Mr. Pataki! I told you you were going to be the end of her sporting career!'
~*~
It broke my heart, but I knew he was right, I may never play high school sports again as long as I live."
"That was when you drove with me to the hospital, Arnold. You saw the whole thing happen." Arnold stared at her for a while. He knew her knee was bad, but he didn't know the story behind it. He was the manager of the softball team (by requests of Helga) and quickly whisked her off to the hospital driving in his grampa's packard. Bob didn't move the entire time; he was in too much shock.
"You know the rest. I needed surgery, I can't walk for a while, and I'll probably have to go to physical therapy for the rest of my life. It's all his fault! If he hadn't pushed me so hard! This never would have happened." Little did she know her father was outside the hospital room, listening to her tell the entire story to her boyfriend. It was all his fault, wasn't it. This boy, Arnold took a lot of talking into to letting Helga go out with him. He finally let her after days of begging, and a very respectful visit from Arnold. Arnold and Helga were overjoyed when Bob gave in.
Now here he was, comforting his girlfriend from her father. Bob peeked in the room a little to see Arnold stroking Helga's hair slowly. She reached up and pulled him down to kiss her. Tears came to his eyes as he watched his daughter, realizing what he had done to her. She worked herself to the end; this was the end. Her high school sporting career was over.
Arnold pulled back, then bent down and placed another kiss in her hair and smiled.
"I guess I'll have to carry your books now." She laughed and slapped his arm as he pushed his lips onto hers again. Bob couldn't take it; he had to talk to Helga, to get her forgiveness. Was it too late? He had always been horrible to her in the past, why was he doing this now? He'd never get another chance; this was it.
He walked into the room and Arnold jumped from Helga, afraid of the wrath of Mr. Pataki.
"I-I need to talk to Helga, alone. You can see her in a minute Arnie." Helga just rolled her eyes.
"It's Arnold Mr. Pataki. Just come get me when you're done. I'll be in the waiting room." He picked Helga's hand up and placed a kiss on it before he exited the room. Helga lost herself in a dizzy world, but snapped out of it quickly when she realized the only other person in the room--Bob.
"Hurry up Bob, I wanna talk to Phoebe." He pulled a chair over to her bedside, and sat in it taking her hand in his.
"Helga, I.I guess I'm sorry." Her eyes widened and filled with rage.
"You guess? You guess!? How can you say that!? This is all your fault!"
"Look, I'm sorry Helga. I guess--I mean I'm trying to ask you if you can.forgive.me. I-I'm sorry." Helga looked at her father for a while. His eyes could usually tell her if he was lying or not. She could see it in him this time. He was sincerely sorry. She leant over the side of the bed and shocked her father with a hug. For a moment he stood there, but finally responded by hugging his daughter back. It was foreign to both of them, but actually felt right for once. They had finally connected. Bob started to cry.
"W-what's wrong Bo--I mean, Dad?"
"I'm just so happy you could forgive me for being such an awful father."
"I never said I forgave you," Helga teased. He looked up and she smiled, "I forgive you."
Arnold watched through the doorway at this. He was happy that they were finally connecting, but saddened that it took such dramastic measures for anything to happen. At least it was becoming a healthier relationship for this father and daughter. Quietly he slipped away to the waiting room where he said he would be and waited. More than one thing was mending; her knee and her relationship with her father.
--------------------------------------------------------------- Yeah, well unfortunately, my mom hasn't lightened up like bob did; but then again, I didn't tear my muscle. My arches suck b/c I have flat feet and she doesn't understand. It's unbearably painful to dance in the shoes we use. Anyway, like I said flame me if you want, I don't care. Happy Thanksgiving.
Arnoldnhelga4eva
PS:Thanks to TADAH and Helga243 for talking to me!! You made me feel a lot better and you're great to talk to. You know how to make anyone feel better, and to my best friend Lauren who's also on dance with me. She practically made me stay on the team, and I'm glad she did. You guys rock!!:D (And to all my other friends on the dance team that I talked to, thanks.)
By Arnoldnhelga4eva
Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold. Leave me alone I'm not in the mood.
Hey, I'm back pretty quick. I'm a little depressed b/c I was cut from one of our dance teams. I was on High Kick/Precision and Jazz/Funk and I got cut from Kick b/c they want me to 'focus on jazz.' Well, I went home and told my mom, she blew up at me. There's more to it than that, so I wrote this to make my situation sound like nothing compared to Helga's. After talking to my best friend and a few other friends, I feel better, but I decided to post this anyway. Go ahead and flame me, I don't care. Just for the record, I didn't have to go to the hospital or think of suicide. I do have to go to the doctor Friday, but that's about it right now. My arches suck and I can't dance kick, so they want me to 'focus on jazz and heal my arches.' Well, here it is. Just remember, my mom wasn't this malicious or forcing.
-------------------------------------------------
"How in the world am I ever going to play sports ever again? He pushed me too far, and now I've injured myself for life. How did I get in this mess?
It all started at soccer try-outs. I'm only a freshman so I didn't know many people on the team. They put me on varsity, but warned me I may be pulled down to JV because of my knee.
I was so proud of myself that I went home, hoping my parents would be proud of me and for once they were. Bob threatened me though that if I didn't keep up with the team and got cut that he'd pull me from JV.
Then I got cut.
Tears were pouring out of my eyes as I begged him to go talk to the coach, to understand where they were coming from. He lightened up, a little but wouldn't let me forget it.
~*~
'You know, Olga played tennis, and she was Varsity all four years! You can't even stay on the team!! What's wrong with you!?'
'Bob! Tennis is different! It's less competitive and they cut me because of my knee--'
'There's no excuses. Patakis don't quit. You're just lazy and don't want to work hard. Olga was out there every stinkin' day hitting against the back board!'
~*~
It didn't stop there. My knee hadn't healed all the way from soccer, and I had to get a knee brace. It didn't help much but eased the pain for a little while. He still wouldn't accept the fact that I was injured and needed to rest--he just kept pushing and threatening me. I wanted it so bad, but couldn't do it. I wanted it so bad, but couldn't do it. It wasn't physically possible. He couldn't see that. All he cared about was how much he was getting out of it. He didn't give a rat's ass about my feelings; after all, I'm Pataki and Patakis are supposed to be strong.
~*~ 'If you don't run every day, you'll never make the basketball team, and I put money into those lessons. I want you to make Varsity, no acceptions!'
'But dad--'
'No but's, go out there and run. You'll never make it if you don't get in shape. How do you expect to run the courts if you can't run!?'
'But the doctor said--'
'I don't care what the doctor said Olga--'
'It's Helga!'
'Whatever I don't care. You're going out there and if you can't make Varsity, I'm going to make you quit JV and you'll work at the Beeper emporium till you can pay back all the money I put into this, do I make myself clear!?'
'Yes Bob.'
~*~
I mumbled and walked away, not wanting this row to continue any further. I ran up to my room and called Phoebe, threatening to kill myself. She was able to calm me down as I put the pill bottle down, thinking of a plan to run away from home. Phoebe told me I was crazy and told me to just try my best, that that's all I could give. I thanked her and hung up.
I talked to the coach and he had a meeting with my dad, and told him if I did any more damage to my leg that I may never play sports again. That shut Bob up.for a little while.
For the rest of the basketball season, he stayed quiet and ignored me. I mostly helped the team by passing out water and towels. He never came to any of the games; why would he? He never would even if I was playing. He just wanted to be able to brag, and to get what he paid for.
Too soon softball season came, and my knee wasn't any better. My coach forbid me to play, instead sent me to a physical therapist through the school. I went for awhile behind Bon's back. I just told him I was going to practice and for a while he believed me, until he actually decided to come to a game.
~*~
'What the hell do you mean she's not here!?'
'She's doing physical therapy Mr. Pataki. I won't let her play, she's injured badly.'
'She's fine. I'm going to find her, and she's going to play. Besides, she's fine now. I know she is. She's not limping.'
'We'll ask her trainer, then see where we go from there.'
~*~
The coach told me everything he said. That's where he made a mistake, by telling my dad I still had a chance. If he just told him that I wouldn't be able to play for the rest of the season, my knee may have been saved. But no--he had to give my dad that extra boost that I'd be okay. To Bob, the words 'maybe', or 'we'll see' meant yes. My physical therapist wasn't much help either.
~*~
'Well, her knee is progressing better, so I think she can try playing in a knee brace. She still needs to be careful though. One wrong move and she could injure herself for life. He may need surgery.'
'Hey hey hey! I'm not paying you seventy bucks--'
'Um, you're not paying me anything sir.'
'Oh, well she'd better be better or else I'll have your job.'
'Just remember, she needs to ice it and rest it whenever possible.'
~*~
My dad didn't listen to him. Every time I would go to ice my knee, he would tell me what a wuss I was being. I reminded him of his back, and he just snapped back.
~*~
'It's not the same girl! I went right back to work after my back got a little better.'
'But my knee is still injured. I can't do anything on it.'
'Hey hey hey! The doctor said it was better so you listen little lady. I want you out there telling your coach tomorrow that you're to start practice right away, no questions!'
~*~
That was his good night to me last night. I cried myself to sleep worrying about today. And whenever I worry about something, it always comes out for the worse.
I went to practice and convinced my coach it was fine for me to play. He let me play relentlessly, crossing his fingers that I wouldn't further injure myself, but crossing both of your fingers is said that it's bad luck. I gave it my all out there. I ran after everything even thought my knee was throbbing, wrenching, and twisting from the pain that shot through it.
I was so stupid to slide into home base. It felt like someone ripped part of my leg off and left the rest to dangle there. As soon as I figured out what happened, I sat up and let out a blood-curdling scream, and Bob saw the whole thing. It was then that he realized how much hard work I had put into this, to have it all come falling down on me. Everyone huddled around me as my coach came to inspect my knee, yelling at my dad.
~*~
'I told you Mr. Pataki! I told you you were going to be the end of her sporting career!'
~*~
It broke my heart, but I knew he was right, I may never play high school sports again as long as I live."
"That was when you drove with me to the hospital, Arnold. You saw the whole thing happen." Arnold stared at her for a while. He knew her knee was bad, but he didn't know the story behind it. He was the manager of the softball team (by requests of Helga) and quickly whisked her off to the hospital driving in his grampa's packard. Bob didn't move the entire time; he was in too much shock.
"You know the rest. I needed surgery, I can't walk for a while, and I'll probably have to go to physical therapy for the rest of my life. It's all his fault! If he hadn't pushed me so hard! This never would have happened." Little did she know her father was outside the hospital room, listening to her tell the entire story to her boyfriend. It was all his fault, wasn't it. This boy, Arnold took a lot of talking into to letting Helga go out with him. He finally let her after days of begging, and a very respectful visit from Arnold. Arnold and Helga were overjoyed when Bob gave in.
Now here he was, comforting his girlfriend from her father. Bob peeked in the room a little to see Arnold stroking Helga's hair slowly. She reached up and pulled him down to kiss her. Tears came to his eyes as he watched his daughter, realizing what he had done to her. She worked herself to the end; this was the end. Her high school sporting career was over.
Arnold pulled back, then bent down and placed another kiss in her hair and smiled.
"I guess I'll have to carry your books now." She laughed and slapped his arm as he pushed his lips onto hers again. Bob couldn't take it; he had to talk to Helga, to get her forgiveness. Was it too late? He had always been horrible to her in the past, why was he doing this now? He'd never get another chance; this was it.
He walked into the room and Arnold jumped from Helga, afraid of the wrath of Mr. Pataki.
"I-I need to talk to Helga, alone. You can see her in a minute Arnie." Helga just rolled her eyes.
"It's Arnold Mr. Pataki. Just come get me when you're done. I'll be in the waiting room." He picked Helga's hand up and placed a kiss on it before he exited the room. Helga lost herself in a dizzy world, but snapped out of it quickly when she realized the only other person in the room--Bob.
"Hurry up Bob, I wanna talk to Phoebe." He pulled a chair over to her bedside, and sat in it taking her hand in his.
"Helga, I.I guess I'm sorry." Her eyes widened and filled with rage.
"You guess? You guess!? How can you say that!? This is all your fault!"
"Look, I'm sorry Helga. I guess--I mean I'm trying to ask you if you can.forgive.me. I-I'm sorry." Helga looked at her father for a while. His eyes could usually tell her if he was lying or not. She could see it in him this time. He was sincerely sorry. She leant over the side of the bed and shocked her father with a hug. For a moment he stood there, but finally responded by hugging his daughter back. It was foreign to both of them, but actually felt right for once. They had finally connected. Bob started to cry.
"W-what's wrong Bo--I mean, Dad?"
"I'm just so happy you could forgive me for being such an awful father."
"I never said I forgave you," Helga teased. He looked up and she smiled, "I forgive you."
Arnold watched through the doorway at this. He was happy that they were finally connecting, but saddened that it took such dramastic measures for anything to happen. At least it was becoming a healthier relationship for this father and daughter. Quietly he slipped away to the waiting room where he said he would be and waited. More than one thing was mending; her knee and her relationship with her father.
--------------------------------------------------------------- Yeah, well unfortunately, my mom hasn't lightened up like bob did; but then again, I didn't tear my muscle. My arches suck b/c I have flat feet and she doesn't understand. It's unbearably painful to dance in the shoes we use. Anyway, like I said flame me if you want, I don't care. Happy Thanksgiving.
Arnoldnhelga4eva
PS:Thanks to TADAH and Helga243 for talking to me!! You made me feel a lot better and you're great to talk to. You know how to make anyone feel better, and to my best friend Lauren who's also on dance with me. She practically made me stay on the team, and I'm glad she did. You guys rock!!:D (And to all my other friends on the dance team that I talked to, thanks.)