AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?





Part 7:



Helga was washing her hands when Phoebe entered the women's restroom. "Are you alright, Helga?" Phoebe asked cautiously. "I couldn't help noticing...that was a nasty fall you took."

The blonde turned to face her. "Tell me about it. I'd be surprised if somebody hadn't noticed." She laughed. "Pretty awkward, huh?"

"How are you feeling?"

"No sweat. There isn't even a mark," she answered, motioning to her arm.

The petite Japanese girl sighed. Helga isn't going to like this, she thought.

"That isn't exactly what I meant..."







"...So Arnold--those were some pretty slick moves I saw you pullin' out there!" Gerald said, sidling up to the punch bowl beside his friend. Something in his tone struck Arnold as slightly--off, sarcastic perhaps...but he chose to ignore it.

"Thanks," he replied. "But you know, I was kind of surprised at Helga. She's actually a pretty good dancer. Didn't she take ballet or something in fourth grade?"



"Yeah....maybe. I forget," said Gerald, brushing the question aside. "You sure it was just a dance? There wasn't...anything else going on I should know about?"









"What exactly are you implying?" snapped Helga, getting defensive. "We were just goofing around...having a little fun. Now we'll say good-bye and forget about each other until another of these stupid reunions. Maybe next time, we'll dance the Funky Chicken instead. It doesn't mean a thing."

"Be that as it may, I can't help feeling that ever since this afternoon, you've been acting a little ...stranger than usual." (Helga scowled, but kept silent.) "And I must confess--it's been quite interesting watching the two of you together. More like old friends than old enemies."

"Oh, come on...I don't have any idea what you're getting at."

Phoebe crossed her arms. "Then you'll be completely surprised to hear what I think."







"WHAT?!" Arnold nearly spit out his punch. "Gerald...that's crazy! I've been around her for maybe ten minutes in the past ten years!"

"Don't blame me. You're the hopeless romantic. You're the eternal optimist. You're the one who sees 'good in everybody'--even screaming blowhards."

"Still, that doesn't mean..."

A smug expression crossed Gerald's face. "You like her."

"I always did! Even screaming blowhards can be good people deep down. When she didn't pull pranks and rant around like a tyrant, she wasn't so bad."

"Mm-hm. You.....Like...her."

Arnold narrowed his eyes. "Not in that way." He groaned aggravatedly and tried to walk away, but Gerald stopped him.

"Look, I know what I told you earlier. Not that I'm wrong--you're still hopeless...but...forget about it, okay? Forget everything I ever said." He shook his head. "It's obvious to the whole dang air-breathin' world that you are at least a little attracted to this girl...and for once, I am not going to try talking you out of it."

"I thought you couldn't stand her."

Gerald shrugged. "Things change. In my honest opinion, (here he glanced briefly in Lila's direction) you could probably do worse than Helga Pataki."



For a minute, Arnold wasn't sure how to respond. "I wish you'd stop talking like that," he said at last. " I barely know her anymore...not that I ever really did."

"So, what are you going to do about it, Don Juan?"



Arnold groaned again. Don Juan? Hardly. People were being awfully nosy about his personal life tonight. "Well," he said, "...if you're such an expert, why don't you tell me?"

"Go ask her out, or something!"

"Gerald, I really don't feel..."

"I got it!" Gerald said, snapping his fingers. "Why don't you see if she'll go with you to that 'film thing' of yours tomorrow?"

"The one you and I were gonna go to? Boy, are you generous, Gerald...offering to give up your place so quickly," he said, sarcastically.

"Hey, I told you I didn't wanna go sit around and watch a bunch of old movies! I think she even likes all that artsy-fartsy stuff anyhow...so you'll have lots more fun. Besides, that way you won't have to hear me complaining."



Arnold sighed, defeated...obviously his best friend wasn't going to give up.



"Fine! I'll ask."









"Are you sure that's such a good idea, Phoebe?"

Phoebe smiled reassuringly, and opened the door. "Of course. Confronting your fears is the only way to find out if you truly feel the same way about him anymore." She gestured out towards the dark room lying beyond the safe haven of the lavatory. "...What have you got to lose?"



Helga walked out, glancing anxiously about until she spotted the familiar blond mane. What have I got to lose? she asked herself uneasily. Hmph! Nothing much.

Just my heart--again.









"Hey, Arnold," she said, coming up behind him.

"Hey." Gerald had walked away to give him a bit of privacy, but he could still feel eyes watching the two of them and that certainly didn't help things any. He wasn't sure how she would react to his question--probably laugh in his face, since it unfortunately had all the implications of asking her on a date. But it wasn't a date, he reminded himself, and he had agreed to ask her in any case. No harm in that, right? Right. "How's your arm?" he began.

"Oh, fine. Just--fine. Couldn't be better."



Did she seem a little tense? Nah, that couldn't be it.



He cleared his throat. Somehow, this wasn't as easy as he'd expected, not like casually suggesting to one of the guys that they play some baseball or catch a movie for old time's sake. But then again it was just Helga, an old friend...sort of. Heck, she'd always been kind of like one of the guys--although much smarter and surprisingly interesting to talk to, he'd learned on those rare occasions when she had been willing to open up to someone...

Hm...the more he considered it, the nicer the idea of hanging out with her a while sounded.



Glancing around, Arnold noticed that the room was slowly emptying. Several people had already left, and a cleaning crew had begun to remove the decorations. "Well..." he said, " ...it looks like the party is basically over. I guess that means it's about time for me to go."

"Yeah. I should start heading home, too." Mustering up her control, she shook his hand and smiled. "It turned out to be fun, though. Thanks, Arnold. I'm glad you came."

"Me too. Even if it wasn't for very long, it was great to see you again."

I guess it's now or never.



Helga was still shaking his hand, fighting between one urge to squeeze it tighter, and another to yank hers away at once. She took a deep breath. "Arnold...could I ask you something?"

His eyes widened slightly. "Sure. What is it?"

Steady girl. "Would you....."



(Go ahead. What are you waiting for?)

No.....I can't. I've...changed my mind. Phoebe doesn't know everything, and I don't love him anymore. Simple as that. I'm going to forget; it's easier that way--for both of us.



"Would I...?"

She pulled her hand back. "W--would you.....consider...doing this again at our next reunion? The dance, I mean?.... We could make it a tradition." (Whew! Smooth. REAL smooth, she told herself critically.

"Of course. And I promise not to drop you next time."

"Great," she sighed, masking the slight tinge of regret that threatened in her voice. "So--I guess I'll see you...when I see you. Take care of yourself." She turned to leave. ".....Bye."



"Er...Helga--wait a minute."



She stopped.



"Before you go, I wanted to ask you about something."



Alright, what now? she wondered.



"I didn't get to talk to you much today...so I was wondering if you'd like to go...do something, sometime. Catch up with each other.



He's kidding. Nobody ever 'catches up' with Helga Pataki. He's just being nice, again.



"Are you busy tomorrow?"



He's...not kidding?

"Er.....no. I'm not busy. What did you have in mind, Arnold?"



"Well..." He paused, scratching the back of his neck. "...I heard about this thing they're having in the city park tomorrow evening. Some local organization is hosting a movie night--you know, where they set up a screen and show old black-and-white films, stuff like that."



He's serious.



"Anyway, I wanted to go, but no one else was really interested, so I thought..." (Whoops--that hadn't come out quite right. Hopefully, she hadn't noticed.) "...I mean--I heard you might enjoy that sort of thing , so I thought that maybe it would be fun to go together. Just the two of us."



He's SERIOUS...



"Helga? Whaddya say?"



Helga was silent for a long moment, apparently thinking it over. Arnold was beginning to worry--perhaps he'd said something wrong?--when she looked up, and a slow smile spread across her face.

"I'd like that."

He brightened. "Great! Why don't we meet in front of the south entrance, tomorrow?"

"Okay."

"Six-thirty?"

"I'll be there," she nodded. Helga began to walk away. When she joined Phoebe and they headed toward the exit, she called cheerfully over one shoulder," See ya' then, Football-head."

"See ya'."



A second later, Gerald was standing there, arms crossed.

"Mm--mm--mmm," he muttered.

"What?"

"I wonder about you sometimes, Arnold."

He narrowed his eyes. "This was your idea, remember? And okay...I'll admit I'm starting to think it won't be too bad after all. So thanks for talking me into it."

"Of course." He paused, suppressing a grin. "Told ya' so--Romeo."

"Gerald....."

"Bet you five bucks I'm right..."

"Shut up."



As they left the community center, Gerald patted him supportively on the back.

"You know I'm always here for you, buddy."

"It isn't a date, Gerald," said Arnold, annoyed.

"Sure, sure....whatever you say."

"Knock it off!"

He grinned. "You're a bold dude, Arnold. A BOLD dude."







Meanwhile, a good distance away, Helga grabbed Phoebe's arm and squeezed it tightly.

"Phoebe..." she said in a hushed voice.

"I think I have a DATE."











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A/N: Well, that's the first half of the story. Dripping with cheese and sap. Ah well; now the real fun begins. Much general goofiness to follow, so please keep reading!