I DO NOT OWN HEY ARNOLD!!! DON'T SUE ME!!! (I don't have any money anyway so you wouldn't get much out of it if you did)
Return To Innocence
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"You don't like him very much, do you?" Helga asks, as she and I leave Charlie's house.
"Who?"
"Who? Come on, Arnoldo… Charlie. You and he don't seem like you get along very well." she says, looking at me.
"No… we don't…" I say, as though I've had a realization.
"I still don't understand it… I mean, why did he ask that you work with us if he doesn't like you?"
"Well, I don't like him either!" I say, a bit too quickly.
"Calm down, there," she says sarcastically, "You know… it's kind of weird to hear you say that you don't like someone. I'm still used to the little boy who liked everyone…" she says quietly, almost speaking to herself.
"I'm not a little boy anymore," I say, looking at her staring at the floor as we walk.
"I didn't say you were." she replies quietly, sticking her hands in her pockets. "It's getting cold out," she comments absent-mindedly.
"Yeah, I saw on the news that it's going to be raining all the rest of this week." I reply, joining in her small talk.
"Listen," she says, and stops walking… now a block or so from Charlie's house.
"Yes?" I stop as well and wait for her speak.
"I really appreciate you doing this project with me… with us. If it weren't for you I probably wouldn't be able to bring myself to go over there. There's something about that house… about that family I don't like. I just wanted to say… thanks." she looks down and blushes.
"No problem." I say, trying to hide my smile of gratitude. I know that if she catches me smiling she'll give me hell for it. I can't ruin this perfectly beautiful moment like that. As I look at her, that question comes to mind again… what happened that day? I can't decide whether to just come out and ask her so I begin to wage an internal battle with myself. I look and look at her… as she stairs at her feet. Slowly she looks up at me and makes eye contact. I have to ask her.
"Helga?" I start, sounding worried. I grasp her hands with mine.
"What are you…?" she looks down at our hands, confused.
"Will you tell me something?" I ask, and she continues to stare at me, "What happened that day I didn't come to Charlie's house?" she searches my eyes a few seconds longer then frowns, ripping her hands from mine and stepping back.
"Nothing happened," she says, sounding unconvincing. She folds her arms and challenges me to ask further.
"I don't believe you." I say flatly, raising an eyebrow… my own way of 'meeting' her challenge.
"Well that's just too bad, isn't it?" she returns, sarcastically.
"Why was Charlie's father looking at you like that?" I bluntly come out and ask.
"Like what?" she asks innocently, with just a touch of uneasiness in her voice.
"You know what I mean!" I say, loudly. She looks surprised at me. Was I making too much of it? Was it not such a big deal?
"I don't know what you're talking about, got it!?" she glares at me, "I'll see you tomorrow," she says and turns to walk away, but I won't have it. I catch up to her and yet again grab onto her hands.
Pleadingly, this time, I say, "Tell me, please… what happened?"
"What's gotten into you?! Nothing happened!" she looks down to her hands, "Let go of me, who said you could touch me!?" she violently yanks free of my hold and walks by me.
"Why won't you tell me?!" I yell after her, inadvertently gaining the attention of everyone on the street. She continues to walk, though, refusing to dignify my question. Why did I have to ask her like that? Couldn't I have asked her in a better way? I look around the street and see the people staring at me… but I don't care. I look up and see the gathering rain clouds. Reluctantly, I turn and being walking home, fearing I might get caught in rain storm.
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Quietly, I sit in my room, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain on my skylight. With the Lolita book, I sit reading at my desk… trying hard not to think about Helga and Charlie and all those other disturbing things. The book, today, isn't enough to capture my total attention and my mind begins to wander to Mr. Reiker and Charlie. I wonder if Reiker knows his son is a pedophile? Well, maybe he's not a pedophile, but he sure was looking at Helga strangely, I comment to myself.
Helga…
There was something different in my behavior towards her today… but why? I don't understand my sudden want to be with her… to want to protect her. It's just being a good friend, right? Who am I kidding? There's more to it than that… and what ever happened to Lila? I see her at school, but I don't really SEE her anymore. I haven't said anything to her since that morning at my locker a few days ago. I feel as though I've lost some sort of connection with her… because of this Charlie thing. It's Helga, it's her fault! I slam the Lolita book closed. Wait, it's not Helga's fault… it's Charlie's! After all, he was the one who requested I join their little project! Angry, I stand up from my desk, turning off the small desk lamp… leaving my room illuminated periodically by the flashing lightning.
Wait, what am I doing? Why am I blaming everyone for my lost interest in someone? I'M the only one who can be blamed for that. I sigh and walk over to my bed, sitting down quietly. I hear the bed springs adjust to the new weight and I sink lower down into the bed. Something is off right now. I feel bad, I can't believe how I handled myself today with Helga. What was wrong with me? And so here I am… again thinking about Helga. That enigmatic girl just won't leave my thoughts! Damn it! And damn her!
I go to Charlie's for her…
I hate Charlie's father because he looks at her…
I'm stuck in an English project, one not even for MY teacher, because I care about her…
Slowly, I begin to realize something. I sure do a lot for someone who claims she hates me… she doesn't hate me, I know she doesn't. I…
There's a knock at my door. Caught off guard, I awkwardly call, "Come in?"
Slowly, the door creeks open… thinking it's Grandpa, I stay sitting on my bed and relax a bit more. My room has a dull , dark, grayness to it due to the rain and lack of indoor lighting.
"…Arnold?" Helga's voice?
"Helga?!" I jump up from my relaxed position on the bed, "What are you doing here?" I ask, a little more quietly. She's drenched… head to toe. What did she do, forget her umbrella? Perhaps she came here on an impulse? For what?
"Listen to me, and listen good," she starts, sternly, closing my door quickly.
"You didn't answer my question," I quietly say, but she ignores me and goes on.
"You asked me what happened that day, right? I said nothing, nothing happened,"
"So you lied?" I ask, standing up from my bed and heading toward my closet to fetch a blanket or something for her… she must be freezing.
"No, that's just it! You don't seem to understand that I'm telling you the truth!" she says, frustrated.
"So wait, let me get this straight… you came all this way, in the rain… to tell me something you've already said?" I say, raising an eyebrow and walking over to her with an extra comforter.
"Yes… no!" she shakes her head, sending droplets of water about. "What I've been telling you is the truth, nothing happened, but Arnold, something COULD HAVE." she says, slumping her shoulders… as if it physically hurt her to tell me that. I unfold the quilt-like blanket and put it around her. She looks down, deliberately trying not to make eye-contact.
I look sympathetically at her and pull the blanket a little more firmly around her, "…so what could have happened?" I persist, selfishly, maybe.
"I… I went down to the kitchen to get a soda… Charlie said he had sodas… but he lied…" she said. This… doesn't feel right. She seems so out of character right now… I don't know what to do... It almost frightens me in a way. She speaks as if in a trance, eyes glued to her feet…
her hair…
…her usually beautiful blonde hair plastered to her face and neck, dripping still… making small, dark, droplet-stains on my carpet and on the bright yellow blanket. Isn't it kind of ironic that the blanket I wrap her in is so bright and yet her mood seems so dark?
"…So there wasn't any soda," she continues, "I figured, 'hey, while I'm down here I might as well get something to eat'.. so I searched the cabinets and fridge… then I heard someone come into the kitchen," she pauses and looks me in the eye for the first time since she entered my room unexpectedly. She looks at me in silence for several moments… or for what seems as long, then continues, "it was that lunatic… Charlie's father. He tried to make small talk… I said I just came for food, but he continued to try and talk to me anyway. He asked why you weren't there… where you were… I didn't know what to say so I just said that you were sick at home." she looks down again. I feel a pang of guilt hit me and I find that I can't look at her. Instead, I look to the floor. "He said that he had something to show me," she starts again, this time with more conviction in her voice. She moves away from me and walks over to my bed and stands before it. She stares up at my skylight… probably feeling it to be more comforting than my questionable stare at her. "I didn't, for once," she hollowly laughs at this, "think it was necessary to be mean to the guy so I said 'ok, fine, show me.' he said it was in his room." she stops and looks down to my bed. The lightning strikes, illuminating the room as if it were day-time for a moment. "I said, 'whatever it is you wanna show me, buddy, you can show me right here.'" I mentally smile at this, grateful that she wasn't as naïve as some girls… who might have gone with the man to his room and been horrifically surprised.
"So what happened?" I ask, taking a step to her.
"He said 'No, you have to see it in my room,' so I told him 'Well, in that case, forget it.' and tried to walk out of the kitchen but he stopped me at the door saying something about how I agreed to it so now I have to go," she shakes her head, "what ever he said, it didn't make much sense and I tried to move past him. He didn't let me go." she hollowly laughs again and says, "But I faked him out and was able to run past him up the stairs. I got to Charlie's room and…" she stops. "…Can I just stop there for now?" she quietly asks, turning to face me. Lightning strikes again, lighting up her face… showing me her expression of defeat and sorrow.
"Uh… yeah, of course." I say and quickly walk to her. "Here, sit down, sit." I insist and she and I sit down on my bed.
"…So what do you think?" she asks, after a long pause.
"What am I supposed to think?" I ask in return. Then, feeling as though my response was a little short, add, "How are you?"
"I'm ok, it's nothing big," she lies, "but if you tell anyone about this, football head… I'll have to hurt you, you know that." she looks at me and half smiles.
I relax a bit at that smile… that sad, enigmatic smile of hers…
"Thanks for listening…" she says softly and pulls the blanket tighter around her.
"Anytime," I say, equally quietly. There's another pause as she slowly looks at me again. There's this urge, this need to be around her right now… it all seems so unreal… Helga Pataki sitting, rain-drenched, on my bed… she opened her heart somewhat to me and I feel nothing but warmth from that scarce occurrence. The light, reflecting off of the water cascading down the skylight, dances across her face… illuminating that sort of sad beauty she posses at the moment.
My eyes…
…they can't focus purely on hers… they keep shifting… from eyes to…
lips…
…eyes, to lips…
I fear suddenly that I might do something inappropriate… I'm only a kid, I rationalize, I can't harbor such thoughts about her… such… inappropriate thoughts… I can't kiss her, it wouldn't be right. Somehow I fear that I'll be taking advantage of her… I don't even know how she feels at the moment… what kind of person would I be to try something like that after hearing of her harassment by the father? I feel disappointed in myself and look away…
It's too much…
Her eyes…
Looking at me… suddenly it all makes sense… my protectiveness of her, my caring for her. You know that saying, 'actions speak louder than words'? Well, it seems clear what my actions have been saying…
I don't believe this… could I love Helga G. Pataki?
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Ok, finally to the romance… it's corny, I know, but I always pictured Arnold's romances to be corny anyway… in the adorable, 'aw, how sweet', sort of way ;D
I really wanna know what you all think of this, so please, tell me :D