No disclaimer this time, boys and girls. I said it, and you know it.

P.S. Sorry for the delay…I've been having internet issues. :-P Bah.

Chapter 3: The Reel Thing, Part Two

It was much later that evening when Arnold finally resolved to talk to Helga about her position as screenwriter for the school project. He was upstairs, watching a jazz concert on public television with his nine-inch television set he kept in the bookshelf beside his bed. His overhead lights were dimmed, and it was rather late, so he was in a mellow mood. Knowing that his nerves were calmed, he was more willing to discuss with Helga the project than earlier when he might have gotten slightly upset by any of her insults. He reached over next to his bed and picked up his cordless and dialed Helga's number. Big Bob picked it up.

Meanwhile, at the Pataki home, Helga was buried in the living room sofa, her script backed by that week's issue of TV Guide as she wrote feverishly. She paused for a while, eyeing her script, reading what she had just scribbled down on her page. "Perfect, perfect…this is pure genius, I tell you, one hundred percent…"

"Hey Helga…Helga…HELGA! Miriam, where's the girl?" Bob bellowed through the house.

Helga sighed. "I'm here, Dad. Maybe you would actually know where I was if you looked," Helga edged as she stood up on the side of the sofa, ignoring the fact that her father actually got her name right.

Bob was not moved by Helga's tone. "Hey, hey, hey! Watch the tone, little lady. Anyway, phone's for you. It's that annoying kid you go to school with, what's his name…Andrew," Bob concluded, vaguely remembering the sight of Arnold from various occasions in which he had confronted him. "And would you stop using my TV Guide to write on. Crimeny! That's what they made books for!" Bob said, giving Helga the phone and snatching the TV Guide from her.

"Yeah, sure, whatever Bob," Helga muttered as she picked up the phone. "Yeah, who's this?" Helga answered the phone casually.

From the other side, Arnold was interrupted by his jazz induced trance enough to reply. "Hi, Helga. This is me, Arnold."

Helga's heart skipped a beat when she heard it was Arnold on the phone. Somehow, she wasn't able to snap out of her mode. "Oh, well, hello Arnold. Well, jeez, I wasn't expecting you to call me," she responded in a timid voice, noticing that her father was still in the living room, drinking a Yahoo.

Helga's response caught Arnold a little off guard, and he hardly knew what to say. That was weird, no 'What are you doing calling me, Football Head,' as he anticipated. He was silent for a while before he got his conversation stared back up. "Um…yeah. So Helga, I was calling you talk about the project, if that's alright with you?"

This time, Helga was able to snap out of the surprise and delight of Arnold calling her and returned, for the most part, back to her normal self. "Oh yeah? What about the project?" she edged.

"I just thought I'd call to get a few things straight with you before we continue filming," Arnold said collectedly, turning up on his small television a jazz arrangement he particularly liked.

"Well?" Helga said, becoming more alert as she sat up on the couch. Bob glared at her casually, and then flipped through his TV Guide.

Arnold thought about the best approach to the topic before he continued. "First of all, let me congratulate you for all you have done for the project. I think that your screenplay is really good, and everyone is just like they are in real life. You write really well," Arnold said, trying a more passive approach. Helga didn't buy it.

"Look, Arnold. Enough with the formalities! Cut to the chase, will you? I know you didn't call me on a Saturday night to complement me," Helga said loudly, drawing more attention to herself. Miriam, at that point, came out of the kitchen, sat besides Helga on the couch with her mug of coffee, and turned on the television.

Arnold shrugged. "Why not? I'm serious. Anyway, I just had a few suggestions to make, and since Mr. Simmons appointed me director, I have the authority to make them and have them heeded," Arnold sat up in his bed, not willing to pause to let Helga comment. "But it's not that serious, Helga. I was wondering if you couldn't be…I don't know…a little more nice to everyone, at least while we're doing this project?"

Helga, for whatever delight was left from receiving the phone call, now switched to indignant. "Oh, so what are you saying, Football Head?"

"What I'm saying, Helga, is that a lot of people like doing the project, and they think the story is cool and everything, but that you are sort of spoiling it fort the rest of them," Arnold admitted honestly.

Helga was a bit taken aback. "So what, they're all saying this behind my back?"

"It's not like you're not being your usual self, Helga, it's just that…well, not everyone enjoys being with you being your usual self for eight hours, doing scenes over and over again," Arnold said defensively. He braced himself for whatever came next.

Helga's eyebrows were furrowed as she gave Arnold's comments some thought. "So, I suppose you feel this way too, huh Arnold?" she said, the edge still very much present in her voice.

Arnold chose his words carefully, but failed to convey the sentiment he wanted to. "Well, no Helga, I don't feel that way. I guess it's just because I've known you longer than some of the others, or maybe that I'm more used to you, or that I've just learned how to take it better," Arnold resolved.

Helga was silent for a while, once again confronted for her harsh personality. "Well gosh, Arnold, since you put it that way, I guess I could be more nice," she said sarcastically. "Now that I know that everyone just pretends to respect me and go around talking about me behind my back, I really want to be nice to them. I mean, it's okay if they're backstabbers, at least I can be smiling all the way to my grave," Helga edged, her voice escalating. "Okay, Arnold, if that's the way it is, that's fine. That's just dandy. We'll just see what happens next time we film."

Arnold smiled, as the sarcasm was slightly funny. He returned the irony. "Well, I'm glad to know that you take constructive criticism so well."

"Yeah, yeah, stick it in your ear, Football Head," Helga finally said, hanging up the phone and trudging up the stairs, not giving any indication that she would return. Miriam, who at this point was still awake, and Bob had listened to Helga's entire conversation for lack of a better thing to do. They looked at each other before Miriam made an outburst.

"Oh, you know what B, that's it! That kid, I never connected it before, but his head does look exactly like a football. It's uncanny, B," Miriam said, shifting to the seat Helga occupied on the couch.

Big Bob, changing the television channel after leafing through the guide, joined Miriam on the couch. "Yeah, talk about a bunch of weirdoes. Some of those folks out there, I'm telling you Miriam, you'd think you were living in a huge freak show," Bob said brazenly, narrowing his eyes as the television came on.


The scene opened up with Arnold, dressed in khaki shorts, a ratty t-shirt and a canvas vest full of pockets, slashing his way through the dense overgrowth in the understory of the Elk Island forest. His socks were covered in burs. Over his shoulder he slung a black garbage bag, and in his right hand he was armed with a shovel. In his left hand, he had a flashlight, for it was the dead of night and the moon was behind the clouds. Due to his lack of sight, his senses picked up, and he suddenly became aware of a rustling that was not his own. He stopped for a while, and the rustling also stopped. He shrugged and continued walking, and the rustling continued. This time when he stopped, he could hear the rustling closer. In a panic, he quickly shined the light in the direction of the sound, but no one was there. But, he still heard rustling.

"Hey Arnold!"

"Aaah!" Arnold shouted, jumping to see who---or what---had just placed a hand on his shoulder. It was Gerald, his face glowing eerily in the light of the flashlight.

Gerald jumped slightly, too. "Hey, chill out man. It's just me," Gerald said, clicking on his flashlight and shining it on his face. He and Arnold exchanged their usual handshake as Arnold relaxed. "So Arnold, my man, what are you doing out here? It's late!"

Arnold sighed. "I know that, Gerald. It's just that…I got to talking to Helga, and…wait a minute, what are you doing here?" said Arnold, side stepping the question.

"Simple," Gerald began to explain. "I called your Grandpa's, he said you had gone for a walk, so I figured you had come back here." Gerald eyed Arnold, spinning the flashlight by the sting on its back end. "I knew you were pretty preoccupied after we left this afternoon, and I figured you would come back by yourself, you know?"

Arnold shrugged. "Yeah, that's basically it. I figured if no one else wanted to search for the Treasure of Leppy, that I would."

"Yeah right, Arnold, like I'd let you keep the whole treasure to yourself!" Gerald laughed, narrowing his eyes at Arnold. The two of them continued on Arnold's path through the understory of the forest. Gerald was also dressed for the occasion, in a camouflage outfit with a cap topping his hair, and black army boots. Gerald then whispered to Arnold, as they continued, "But Arnold, enlighten me about something, will ya? What has Helga Pataki got to do with this?"

Arnold glared at Gerald in silhouette as they trudged on. "Well, Helga asked if I was okay yesterday, and I explained to her why I really wanted to find the treasure, and after talking to her, well, I felt as if I should come back," Arnold resolved.

Gerald chuckled. "Helga actually asked if you were okay? Don't you find that just a little bit odd, Arnold?" Gerald asked. Before Arnold could respond, both he and Gerald noticed that some of the leaves from the trees began to fall. They looked up just in time to see a large shadow plummeting to the ground below. The overgrown brush broke its fall. Arnold and Gerald, not knowing what to expect, looked at each other, then looked at the shadow that fell.

"And why is that so strange, Geraldo!" the shadow sneered, emerging from the ground. "Well, what are you two goofs gawking at, give me some room her e!" Gerald shined the flashlight on the shadow.

"Helga…I should have guessed," Gerald said, grunting in displeasure.

Helga turned to scowl at him. "Hey, watch the light, will ya," she edged, as Arnold provided his hand to help her out. She rose to her feet, and dusted the plant debris from her khaki skort and beige tank top. She kicked her work boots against the tree and then leaned against the tree nonchalantly.

Arnold scratched his head in confusion. "Wait Helga, what are you doing here?"

Helga squinted at him. "Hey! I didn't ask what you and Gerald are doing here. It's a free country, you know?" Helga said, glaring at Arnold. "Besides, I got to thinking about what you said earlier, and it made sense," Helga said, softening but still scowling. She averted her eyes from Arnold as he looked at her. "In truth, I'm sorry for ridiculing you and everything---your idea wasn't that bad," Helga struggled to say, looking back at Arnold and frowning.

Arnold then smirked and narrowed his eyes at Helga, a look she wasn't used to receiving. She was caught of guard, and she relented her continuous scowl and flushed slightly. She began to stutter something unintelligible as Gerald glared at the two of them, and then shook his head.

"Hey, what'd I miss here?" he asked, crosses his arms. Before either Arnold or Helga could respond, they noticed a small figure emerging from the trees. It slid down the trunk of the tree and then jumped to the ground once about five feet above it.

Helga snapped out of her state once the figure arrived. "Hey Phoebs, what took ya?" Helga said, a little tension in her voice. Phoebe noticed this, and eyed Helga as she straightened her shorts. She and Helga were nearly matching.

"Well Helga, although your fall was broken by this vegetation, I didn't want to take the chance of having to endure serious injury, so I descended from the tree," Phoebe said, adjusting her glasses. Gerald shined his flashlight on Phoebe.

"Hey Phoebe, nice threads," he complimented. Phoebe flushed and giggled in response.

Helga rolled her eyes. "Oh brother," she mumbled under her breath. Phoebe shot a harsh glance at Helga from that response, and Helga shrugged.

Arnold, who ignored the entire interchange, continued on. "Well, since there are four of us now, maybe we can cover more ground. But, we have to get our bearings first. We're just a few feet from the clearing up ahead. There we can decide how we're going to do this," Arnold resolved, leading the small group toward the clearing. They were the first of many more small groups to arrive.

From across the clearing came Rhonda and Nadine, Nadine enthusiastically chasing after a large moth and Rhonda straying behind, examining her eyes in her pocket mirror. From the other corner came Harold, Stinky and Sid, teasing each other as the climbed a hill. Sheena, Eugene and Curly came loudly out of the woods, Sheena carrying an injured Eugene with her.

"I'm okay."

Arnold looked from face to face enthusiastically, seeing how everyone had come dressed and prepared for the search. Excitement showed in his eyes. "Wow, all of you actually came back, even after all you said?"

Rhonda sighed. "Well yeah, we came, but not entirely of our own free will," she said, as she took out an emory board to file her nails. She was about to continue when she saw Helga glaring at her. "I mean---we did it for you, Arnold," she grinned sheepishly at Helga.

Arnold, now beaming more than ever, smiled widely now. Helga also began to smile as if some of his happiness had rubbed off on her. "Well, what are we waiting for, then? Let's go!" he exclaimed, as the rest of the kids prepared to run back into the forest.

"Wait a minute!" Phoebe yelled over the group. "Before we all scatter on this excursion, we need to formulate some type of party division, organizing into uniform groups, designating a meeting place and time, and determining what issues to call to order if and when the artifacts are actually found." The group of kids looked at each other for a while, after Phoebe's speech, and was silent.

Harold broke the silence. "I say we run through this entire stinkin' island 'til we find that pot of gold!" The entire class agreed, leaving Helga and Phoebe standing in the clearing as their rushed footsteps could be heard through the forest.

Helga chuckled slightly as Phoebe realized she had been left alone. "Ah Phoebs, lighten up. Why do you always have to go by the book?"

Phoebe sighed. "Well Helga, why not? I mean, it's worked for me before."

Helga raised her eyebrow at her. "Oh yeah, so what, you get everything from your little braniac sources? What do they say?" Helga then put on a deep voice, mocking the voice heard in the background of infomercials. "Chapter 1: How to flirt." Phoebe gasped and her eyes widened as Helga continued. "If your man compliments you, you must flush and giggle shyly."

"Helga!"


"Cut, cut!" Arnold exclaimed, emerging from behind a bush where he and the others had previously dispersed.

Helga stopped abruptly in slight surprise. "Whoa, Football Head, could you be a little more abrupt? Sheesh, we need a little fade out time," Helga said, squinting in the light of Arnold's flashlight.

Arnold walked forward, pointing the flashlight downward so that Helga could once again see. "Sorry about that, Helga…"

"About which?"

"About both," Arnold confirmed. Both of them relaxed, not having to look at each other directly in the darkness. "But, its almost ten o'clock, and most of us told our parents we'd be home by nine," Arnold said, twisting Helga's arm to look at her watch. Helga snatched her hand from Arnold's, scowling at him though he could not see.

She then turned to Phoebe, who by now was approaching the forests. Slightly surprised, she ran to catch up with her. "Hey Phoebs, what's the rush?" she yelled before tripping on an uprooted root from a tree in the forest. She looked up from the ground and emerged sheepishly.

Phoebe glared at Helga as she stood. "Helga, how could you?" she whispered sharply as they both stood in the clearing.

Helga shrugged. "Well, I don't know; I wouldn't have if that stupid root wasn't randomly sticking out of the ground," Helga said softly, brushing the dirt from her outfit.

Phoebe grunted. "Oh, don't play innocent with me, Helga. You know perfectly well what I am referring to," she said, looking sharply at Helga.

Helga, not particularly moved by Phoebe's accusation, shrugged casually. "Okay, and what if I don't?"

"That's it," Phoebe said, throwing off her safari hat. "I've just about enough of this, and you as screenwriter, and your adlibs. I'm going," she said, turning from Helga and walking away with determination.

Helga looked on with slight confusion, picking up the hat she had given to Phoebe for the filming, and looked after Phoebe. "So Phoebs, you coming back tomorrow to finish up?"

Phoebe stopped in her tracts and glared back at Helga. "If you're still here, don't count on it, Helga G. Pataki," Phoebe sneered somewhat mockingly. Helga's eyes widened slightly with that comment as Phoebe disappeared into the woods.

"Hmm…what's eating her?" Helga wondered as she stuffed the hat into her backpack, hefted it onto her back, and walked through the woods to find the port where Earl was probably still waiting.

* * * * * *

It was a bright Sunday afternoon as Arnold walked Abner through the park. On the way, he contemplated how to approach Helga on the subject of her argument with Phoebe. Although the argument about the maintenance of their friendship was the most valid issue, Phoebe was one of the essential characters of the screenplay. It would ruin the whole project if those two weren't cooperating. As he thought to himself, Abner picked up Helga's scent, and began to lead Arnold on the path to where she was sitting, on a bench in the park.

Before Helga noticed the arrival of Abner's snout, she was staring at the screenplay, as if the words on the paper would fade away under her glare. Finally, after a while of intense eyeing, she dramatically erased an entire paragraph, ripping a hole in the paper. Disgusted with the entire effort, she tore the paper from the pad, crumpled it, and hurled it as far as her arm would let it fly, and it landed conveniently in a trash can by the tree across from her. While she sighed in exasperation at her script, once a masterpiece, lying in disarray, she noticed the pig sniffing at her feet.

"Arnold, give it a rest," she said flatly before she even acknowledged the presence of Arnold beyond his pet.

Arnold, who was growing impatient from his encounters with Helga, added a little edge into his voice. "Helga, you know, you could at least hear me out before you totally blow me off…"

"Hey Arnold, I'm doing you a favor here. Don't waste your breath---what's done is done," Helga concluded, looking up from the scattered papers to face Arnold. "Phoebe decides she doesn't want to participate anymore; fine, she doesn't have to. All I have to do is write her out of the script, and if anyone has a problem with this script as opposed to my old one, they have her to thank," Helga said, as she began to write furiously on a piece of clean paper on her pad.

Arnold sighed. "Helga, I don't get you. I thought Phoebe was your friend, like, your best friend. And you're treating her just like another disgruntled actor. It should be in your interest to patch things up," Arnold reasoned while pulling on Abner's leash as he attempted to chase a cabbage butterfly.

Helga finished writing her paragraph, stared back at it admirably, and then turned back to Arnold. "Look, Head Boy, I don't have time for all of that. The show must go on, and I can no longer make accommodations for those who don't appreciate my writing style," Helga said, before ultimately throwing that paragraph into the garbage. "Now, if you would excuse me, Arnold…"

"No, you excuse me, Helga," Arnold spoke up. "You are not the decision maker in this operation. If you recall, I was appointed director, and I feel I have been abdicating some of my duties under this title. No matter how nice I wanted to be about this thing, you leave me no choice." Helga stopped her writing and narrowed her eyes at Arnold as he continued to speak. "I'm giving you two options. The first option has two parts. It will require you to mend relations with Phoebe at least enough that you two can cooperate and finish the movie as it was agreed upon. The second part is that you must honor the requests and suggestions of all of our classmates from now on, because this is a group project…"

"But it was my brainchild!" Helga finally asserted, standing up from the bench as she set her stack of papers next to her.

Before she could get in any other words, Arnold interjected by holding up his hand. "Yes, Helga, it was your idea, and in my opinion, you have put a lot more hard work and dedication into this thing than perhaps any of the rest of us did, and I commend you for that," Arnold said, calming his voice. He noticed that Helga, although not reacting momentously, raised an eyebrow and slumped a little from her confrontational stance. "But the fact remains that you couldn't have pulled any of this off without the rest of us. You need the techies and the actors. So you owe us a little bit more consideration for helping you to realize your brainchild."

Helga stood in her disturbed position in front of the bench, and looked down as she considered Arnold's proposal. She then crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes in what was left of her fury. "So, what's option two?" she asked quietly as she glanced at Arnold.

"The second option is that the project is suspended indefinitely, and if restarted, the screenplay would be rewritten such that everyone in the group is willing to participate."

"Hmm…somehow, I like the first option better."

With this revelation, Arnold smiled. "I knew you would come to your good senses soon," he said, patting Helga on the back. Lost in her thoughts for the moment, Helga did not respond in her characteristic manner to the physical contact shared between Arnold and her. As Arnold walked away, he noticed this peculiarity, and eyed Helga suspiciously as he left. "So, will that script of yours be done by tomorrow, then?"

Helga sat back down to her scattered papers and began to stack them, at first not hearing what Arnold said. "Huh? Oh yeah, sure, sure. It'll be done, and everyone will be happy…" she mumbled to herself, a little less than cynically, as she began to sort the papers.

"What was that?"

"I said yes already! Crimeny, do you want me to write it in a letter? Jeez…"

"Just checking…" Arnold said, his voice trailing off as Abner dragged him in the direction of the fountain deeper into the park.

Helga looked up from her papers to watch after him as he left, and then sighed and returned to the disarray that once was a completed script. "Well Helga ol' girl, looks like we're going back to the drawing boards…again, huh?" she said to herself, picking up the papers and heading out of the park in the opposite direction.