Author's note: Blatant grammatical errors are very annoying. This chapter has thus been re-updated 11-17-2003.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold!

Helga began, "So…"

Arnold looked up at Helga as he continued to mess with his alarm clock, smiling with anticipation for what she would say.

"I was…just wondering…did you want to talk about anything in particular?"

He shrugged. "It's kind of funny. I wanted to see you again to ask you about stuff; but now that you're here, I don't really know where to start."

As if my job wasn't hard enough as it is, Helga thought quickly as she stared at the floor. I need something to get this conversation going. "Okay, why don't we talk about who your friends are? Maybe that can help spark some memories."

"All right, are you supposed to be one of my friends?"

Helga laughed nervously at that question. "Me? Well, uh…there's not a simple answer to that question, per se."

"What do you mean?" Arnold asked as he put the clock and the other things he'd been messing with aside.

"I mean…uh, why don't we start with someone else and come back to me later?"

He raised an eyebrow at her strong desire to avoid being the subject of discussion. "Okay, then, who were the two kids that were here before you?"

Phew! I thought he'd really start grilling me there for a second! "Those two? Let's see, the one with the tall hair and the red shirt was Gerald."

"Gerald. Yeah, they both told me their names. The girl's name was Phoebe, right?"

"Right. Gerald's supposed to be your best friend. You two have known each other since preschool, I think."

"You think?"

"Hey, give me a break, here! I'm not the expert when it comes to your life!" She immediately regretted her choice of words, preferring to cleverly disguise the truth rather than tell what she knew was an outright lie. Helga could recall Arnold's daily routine, minute-by-minute, on command. She might as well be the official source for anything related to Arnold.

Moving past her actual choice of words, Helga was also concerned about raising her tone of voice as she had just done. She was worried she would create a bad impression on his clean slate of a mind. Surprisingly, though, he appeared to take a positive interest in her change in tone. "Tell me more, Helga."

"Fine, but just keep your distance there, Bucko!" This unnatural human response to aggression threw Helga off her game a bit. At the same time, it occurred to her that it might be advantageous to act like her normal, brute self. Arnold seemed to actually be attracted to that side of her now.

He complied with her request and backed away a couple feet along the bed. "Sorry, Helga. Can you tell me more about Gerald and Phoebe? Helga?"

"Huh? Oh, right. I just thought I saw something up there by the window."

"Hey, I brought some popcorn with me on account of I don't how long the show's going to be."

"I don't know if this was such a good idea. I think they've spotted us."

"Oh, don't worry; they can't really see us out here. I've eavesdropped on the boy plenty of times like this. You see, the glass is installed at just the right angle so the light in the room reflects back at them, making it difficult to see out at night."

"Reflective glass, of course. I should have thought of that."

"So why didn't your little friend want to stay and watch the show with us?"

"I don't know. I would have thought he'd want to make sure Helga didn't try anything funny while the two of them were left alone."

"It seemed more like he was sick of dealing with Arnold to me. Kept muttering about how Arnold couldn't remember anything, no matter how hard he tried."

"Gerald does tend to lose patience with matters such as these. From what I've seen since I've known him, he has a strong desire for everything to be normal all the time."

"Well, speaking of you 'knowing him,' pardon my mentioning it but you two seem to be—"

"Oh, not quite, yet. Gerald doesn't want to declare us an 'official' couple, at least for now."

"Got a bit of the cold feet, eh? I know what that's like."

"Did you ever hold off on a relationship like that, sir?"

"No, but I spent a whole weekend ice fishing once without my shoes. I just plain forgot them before I went out the door. I was lucky to save eight of my toes!"

"Oh my! How horrible!"

"Yeah, it was…oh, wait a minute. I forgot you're not wise to my mischievous nature like Arnold. You can calm down, that didn't really happen, see."

"Yes, I do see. Well, that's a relief."

"What really happened was I lost all of my toes!"

"You're still pulling my leg, right?"

"Hey, now you're catching on! You'll get to the point where you can spot 'em coming from a mile away like Arnold. Only a matter of time."

"So does he have a real name?"

"Nope. As far as everyone knows, his name is Peapod Kid."

"Wow, that's pretty strange. Is there anyone else in our class that you haven't mentioned to me already?"

"No, that's pretty much it."

The two of them sat in silence again. Arnold hesitantly spoke up, unable to restrain himself from asking, "Are you going to tell me anything about how you fit into all this?"

Helga slapped her hand to her forehead and drew it down across her face in a stressful manner. It was an inevitable question, how could she have blatantly overlooked it while scheming to get him alone? The romantic aspect of coming to Arnold's aid had blinded her to the reality of the situation: Arnold was experiencing amnesia, a bona fide medical condition that required a great deal of caution and patience on the assistant's part. Past that, though, she hadn't considered how frank she would have to be in answering Arnold's questions.

It all boiled down to two choices for Helga as it pertained to telling Arnold about herself.

"So tell me…Phoebe, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, I was just curious as to how aware you were to how the girl feels about the boy."

"You mean Helga's crush on Arnold? How did you know about that?"

"Well, besides you just confirming it for me, it's pretty obvious from what I've seen. That one week where he kept coming home a mess everyday, feathers glued to his rear end and paint all over his sweater, made it clear."

"I seem to remember that. I was working in their group on that particular project."

"You don't say? Tell me, how did you come to learn about her little secret?"

"Much in the same way you did, mostly by observation. I agree with you about how obvious it is that she's got a crush on him. I've heard it discussed before about how a large amount of attention, even as negative as it appears to be coming from her, can indicate feelings of this nature."

"But she's never actually told you?"

"Well, she's never explained the whole thing to me in detail, but she does know that I know. Occasionally, when she's got a problem related to him and she comes to me for help, she'll refer to him in code, calling him 'ice cream' or something along those lines."

"Say, now that you bring it up, I sure could go for some ice cream after drying out my mouth on all that popcorn. What do you say, after she gets through with him in there, we all go down to Slausen's?"

"That'd be nice, assuming we're not waiting up here all night. Knowing Helga, we could still be a while."

"Helga, why can't you tell me how more about how you're supposed to fit into my life?"

"I told you, I just can't!"

"That's not a reason."

"Oh, for crying out loud! I'll tell you one thing, you haven't forgotten how to interrogate people like some kind of detective grilling his suspect for answers!"

"I'm not trying to grill you. It just seems kind of weird for you to keep dodging the question for no apparent reason."

"Look, pal, I've got a reason!"

"All right, so tell me what it is."

Helga wanted to smack Arnold more than anything in the world. Why couldn't he just sit there and let her run the show like she wanted? She had planned on telling him everything, in some kind of ill-conceived attempt to reprogram Arnold's thoughts about her. Instead, she had made it overly clear to Arnold that she had an issue she didn't want to discuss, and simply acting on his natural instincts which he'd still retained, the curiosity and questioning ensued.

The more I think about it, what have I really got to lose? He's not going to remember any of this after he gets better; at least, I think he won't. Either way, I can't keep this up. I might as well come clean with him.

"Oh, I think this is it."

"Really? What is it? They're not going to do anything I need to go in and break up, are they?"

"I'm almost certain they're not. I've seen this look that Helga's got on her face before. It's the look she gets when she's being really serious and honest about something."

"How can you tell that just by her look?"

"It's the same look she's had every time she's been frank and honest with me about something. I could be wrong, but that's what I'm sensing here."

"Okay, then. But if they start swapping spit, I'll be in there faster than you can say 'raspberry cobbler.'"

"What do you mean there's two sides to the story?"

"Just shut up and listen! You wanted me to explain everything to you!"

"Okay, okay!"

Helga exhumed her breath in frustration at the continued difficulty she was experiencing, "Criminy, Football Head!"

"What did you just call me?"

Another slip of the tongue…or was it? Helga decided to run with it. "I called you 'Football Head!' Are you deaf?"

As she expected, Arnold's interest grew as she threw insults at him. "Is that something you call me all the time?"

"As a matter of fact, it is. And you're supposed to hate it when I call you that!" she said in response to his drawing in closer.

"Helga, I can't really explain it. You keep telling me these are supposed to be insults, but I'm not feeling insulted."

"Then what exactly are you feeling?"

"I…don't know."

Helga blushed, knowing exactly to what Arnold was referring. She then gave herself the fail-safe slap to the face, restoring her composure. "Just so you know, we're not supposed to be friends in real life!"

Arnold paused in his approach. "Really? What, do you mean we're like, enemies or something?"

Helga was somewhat interested to test the limits of this new affection Arnold was holding for her. "Yeah, that's right. We're mortal enemies in our real lives. We absolutely hate each other's guts!"

He sat and digested what he just heard. "Wow…you sure about that? Because, to be honest, I really like you right now."

Her heart melted at hearing those words, but she couldn't melt along with it at the moment. "That's just swell, Arnoldo, but it doesn't change anything. We're still on the opposite sides of the line, whether you like or not."

Arnold showed a look of disappointment on his face, as Helga was expecting. She was foreseeing the rest of the conversation, trying to keep things going the way she wanted them to. Still, even she wasn't completely sure which way she actually wanted to go with him at this point.

Okay, Helga, now just lead him back like a trained dog. "Look, maybe I'm being a little hard on you. Tell you what, just this one time, since you're so sweet about it, I'll let you hang out with me like we're friends."

Helga then sat back, waiting for her fish to take the bait. The wait was short, as Arnold's face brightened up and he latched onto her again as he had done when she had first arrived.

"Okay, you two! That's just about far enough!" came a loud, raspy voice from above. Helga and Arnold quickly looked up to spot Grandpa barging into the room through the skylight, with Phoebe tailing closely behind.

Helga was on his case immediately. "I knew something was going on out there! How long have you two been up there watching us?"

"Long enough, I'd say. Listen, young Phoebe and I were up there talking about you two when the topic of ice cream came up."

She wasn't quite sure of what he was referring to, but Helga's suspicion was aroused at the old man's use of her Arnold code name. "What about ice cream? Phoebe, how much does he know? I want answers!"

Phoebe went to Helga's side. "Helga, calm down. We were just thinking it'd be a nice idea to head down to Slausen's and get some ice cream before they close."

"Oh, come on, Phoebe! What kind of lame excuse is—wait a minute, who's all going down there?"

"Everyone, of course! Come on, we'll take the Packard." Grandpa opened the bedroom door to lead the group down to the car when he ran into an obstacle on the stairs.

"Oh, hello, Grandpa! I couldn't help but overhear on my way from the bathroom something about a trip to the ice cream shop."

"You're not invited, Oscar!"

"Come on, I'll pay for my share, I promise!"

"That's what you always say and then you never bring any money! No freebies tonight, you swindler!"

The two old guys continued on down the hall arguing, followed by Arnold, listening intently, and Helga and Phoebe behind him.

"So what did you two talk about?"

"Oh, you know, the usual stuff. I brought him up to speed on pretty much everything."

"That's great. What did you tell him as it pertains to…you know?"

"I told him how it is."

"Really? You mean—"

"Yeah, we're mortal enemies and stuff, but then I told him we could be friends tonight if he wanted."

"Oh, so you didn't really—"

"Nope."

"Was it because you weren't—"

"Mm-hmm."

"But were you planning to—"

"Wait and see."

"Okay."

"And Phoebe?"

"Forgetting!"

"Okay, Kokoshka, give me your share."

"Yeah, about that…"

"I knew it! That's the last time I'm taking you anywhere, and I really mean it this time!"

The kids took their orders from the counter and snuck away from the unending bickering to find a table. Helga and Phoebe sat on one side, Arnold across from Helga. "So what's this supposed to be anyway?" he asked.

"It's a banana split, moron."

Arnold nodded in mild understanding. "Am I supposed to do something with this thing?"

Helga looked up from her Yahoo float to see the subject Arnold's query, the spoon. This again brought back the memory of her own beaning, something she was trying to repress during the course of the evening. "You use that to eat the ice cream, doi!"

"Eat?"

Helga glared at him. "You know, scoop the ice cream into your mouth and swallow! Jeez, what a dingbat!"

Phoebe sat and observed Helga's seemingly harsh method of instructing Arnold in dining etiquette. It made no sense in her mind for Helga to be so rash and rude with him in such a vulnerable state. She leaned over and whispered to Helga, "Are you sure you need to be so mean to him?"

"I know what I'm doing, just clam up!" Helga hissed back. Indeed, it was all part of her plan. She was going to push his buttons until he either snapped back to normal or lunged at her in an attracted fury (she was hoping for the latter, of course).

The girls' attention returned to Arnold, who was having a small amount of luck with the spoon. About half of what boarded it reached his mouth, the rest falling on his shirt, in his lap, over the table, or a combination of the three.

"Hey, Arnold, you want a bib or something?" Helga continued to heckle him.

"What's a bib?"

"It's what babies wear to keep the food from getting all over them. You look like you could use about half a dozen! What a yutz!"

Arnold laughed, much to Helga's delight. That's it, now let's balance the punishment out like before with a small dose of affection. Helga reached over to a cup by the table edge, pulled out a bendy-straw, and plunked it in what remained of her float. "You're driving me nuts making that mess over there, why don't you try some of this instead?"

Laughter subsiding, Arnold slid the bowl, now a banana-chocolate medley of a mess, aside and drew over Helga's float. He eyed the straw. "What do I do with this?"

"Put it in your mouth and you'll figure it out."

He obeyed, wrapping his lips around the straw and instinctively drawing the fizzing soft-serve into his mouth. Helga then leaned across the table and joined him on her own straw. This is too good! And the sad part is it was almost too easy! But still, I can't complain; I've got Arnold sharing an ice cream float with me, and all I had to do with be my usual, tortuous self!

Grandpa finally came over to the table, carrying his own ice cream cone as well as the one he refused to give to Oscar after not being paid for it, which led to Oscar's departure. At first glance he only noticed the float Arnold and Helga were sharing, "Oh, isn't that cute? I used to come in here when this place first opened and share sodas with girls like that all the time. Hey, wait a minute, what's this mess?" He took notice of the ice cream smeared all over the table and Arnold's clothes and then looked at Helga and Phoebe. "You two know he's all messed up in the head; why didn't you help him out with the spoon?"

"Hey, he'd already made a pretty big mess by the time we'd noticed it!" Helga's put her fantasy on hold for the moment.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway. Come on, Arnold, let's get you cleaned up."

Grandpa motioned for Arnold to follow him to the bathroom. Arnold slid out of the booth and went to follow. On his first step, however, his shoe found a small chunk of banana. He slipped and fell, his head smacking against the end of the table as he accelerated toward the floor.

Helga instinctively dove out of her seat and came to Arnold's side, rolling him over to check on his head. Amazingly, a small bump was all to be found, the result of a fall that appeared violent enough to split Arnold's skull wide open. Apparently he was dense in more ways than he appeared to be. Still, despite the minority of the injury, he still lay unconscious.

Grandpa came rushing back after hearing Arnold's head make contact with the table. "Wow, I haven't seen someone take a spill like that since…well, it's been a while!"

Mr. Slausen himself came over in a panic as well. "Oh my God, is he okay? Please tell me he's okay! I don't want another lawsuit on my hands!"

"He's fine, you babbling ninny! Don't start calling your lawyers just yet!"

Slausen and Grandpa continued to talk as Helga slapped Arnold around with Phoebe observing with concern. "Come on, wake up, Arnold! Oh, things were going so well! Why did you have to slip and fall?"

"Helga, I don't think you should be shaking him so violently."

Helga released Arnold upon Phoebe's request, realizing she was getting a bit carried away in her concern. "Thanks, Pheebs. Is there a glass of water nearby?"

Phoebe looked around and spotted a half-full cup on a table in an adjacent booth. "Here you go, Helga. Are you going to do what I think—yeah, you did."

Immediately upon getting splashed in the face by Helga, Arnold came to. He sat up in a state of shock, looking around with a worried look on his face. "What's going on? Where am I?"

"Oh, Arnold! You're awake!" Grandpa helped Arnold get to his feet.

"Grandpa, why are we at Slausen's right now? Why am I covered in ice cream? I thought we were playing baseball."

"Whoa, someone needs a little bringing up to speed! Helga, tell him what's been going on; Slausen wants me to sign some kind of release form so I can't sue him for anything."

"Wait, I'm pretty sure you can do a better job than me! Gramps?" Helga slowly and nervously directed her attention to Arnold. The situation was no longer in her favor; Arnold was apparently back to normal and looked like he wanted some answers. "So, how you feeling?"

"My head hurts pretty bad. What happened to me?"

"Ludwig threw a pitch right at your head back at the ball game. He hit you right there." Helga pointed to Arnold's right temple.

"Ow!" he exclaimed as he reached up to feel the bruise that remained from where the ball had connected. "Did we win the game or what?"

"No, everyone kinda just left after you got hit."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was supposed to be home ten minutes ago." Phoebe slid out of the booth and whispered to Helga as she went by, "Try not to stretch the truth too far with him."

"I'm not making any promises," Helga breathed back.

Phoebe bid Arnold goodnight and left. Helga and Arnold were once again alone, with Mr. Slausen continuing to campaign for Grandpa not to press any charges in the back room, and no other customers remaining in the shop.

"I need to sit down," Arnold sighed and took a seat across from Helga. "So tell me, Helga, how did I get hit with a baseball at Gerald Field and wake up at Slausen's three hours later?"

"Well, you see…" Helga hesitated to give Arnold the true answer. Maybe an excuse could let her bail on her failed scheme? "Why are you asking me, anyway? Who says I know?"

"My grandpa seems to think you know."

Drat, he saw through that one! What's the use? He's getting too good for my futile attempts to dodge questions. "Okay, Arnold, you're right. I know what happened to you. The hit to the head knocked you out cold and gave you amnesia."

"Really? I had amnesia?"

"Yes, amnesia. You didn't know anything, and Gerald and Phoebe had to take you home."

"Wow. So then how did I get to Slausen's?"

"Well, after they got you home they called…" Helga trailed off.

"Who did they call?"

Just tell him! You can't get out of it! "They called me and asked me to come over."

"You?"

"Yes, me! Who else does 'me' refer to? Sheesh!"

"But why you, Helga?"

"You want to know why? Here's why, and this is the truth! They told me you wanted to see me again."

"'Again?' When did I see you before?"

"At the field when you first woke up, doi!"

"What did you do to make me want to see you after that?"

"I didn't do anything! You were acting like some little kid who'd just seen a girl for the first time!"

"You mean…I had a crush on you?"

Music to Helga's ears, she boldly affirmed it, "Yes! That's exactly right!"

A puzzled look came over Arnold's face. "There's no way that's true."

"Of course it is, Paste for Brains! You think I'd make something like that up? I could come up with better material than claiming you had some kind of la-di-da crush on me!"

Still acting confused, and not accepting her answer entirely, Arnold continued, "So how did I end up here then?"

"Your grandpa brought us all down here when he got an ice cream craving or something. We got you a banana split, and after you made a mess trying to eat it, your grandpa came to take you to the bathroom to get cleaned up, and you slipped and hit your head on this table."

"And then I woke up?"

"Yup."

"Did you tell me everything?"

Let's see, he played with my bow, told me he liked my name, hugged me twice without any provocation or warning, and shared a Yahoo float with me. "Yeah, that's pretty much it, Hair Boy."

He stood up to go meet Grandpa, who had just finished talking with Mr. Slausen, by the door. "Man, what a day. Well, thanks for filling me in on all the details, Helga. If it's really true that you came over to help me out when I was all screwed up, then I guess I owe you a 'thanks.'"

Helga averted her gaze as he spoke to her. "Yeah, yeah, just don't say I never did you any favors."

"I won't. Have a good night, Helga."

"Whatever, see you in the funny papers." Helga turned her eyes back in Arnold's direction as he turned and walked out of the ice cream shop. The empty feeling she'd had when she fell asleep the first time that evening returned, now stronger than ever. She put her head down on the table and rested there until Mr. Slausen finally came over to escort her out.