Sorry for the delay! Chapter 10 is up.
Autumn had always been Helga's favorite season of the year. Perhaps the atmosphere matched Helga's all-time mood: romance. She found a peaceful feeling at the sound of dry leaves rustling beneath her feet. The breeze gently lifted soft strands of her loose hair as she walked to school. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she smiled to the memory of the food fight that had happened two months ago, in August. After that day, she and Arnold hadn't talked much. Just an awkward 'hi' or 'hello' if they happened to come across each other. Even in those few moments of contact, she'd make a point of sneering at him or making a snide comment about his slightly football shaped head. Sure, he was one of the most gorgeous creatures she'd ever seen, but she couldn't help it.
As she walked through the dounble glass doors of the school, she caught sight of Phoebe talking to Rhonda. Rhonda had become a casual friend of Helga's, even though they'd tease each other about the way they were in childhood. Walking over to the two, they talked about their French homework, when Arnold turned around the corner with Curly by his side. Rhonda saw them both first, and called to them.
"Curly! And just why didn't you call me last night?" she shrilled.
Helga looked Curly over. He had definitely changed. Sure, the glasses were still there, but better frames. Changing his hairstyle had helped a great deal too. And he had seemed to grow a stong cleft in the chin, which gave him a much stronger, older look. She could see why Rhonda had fallen for him.
Without waiting for an answer, Rhonda grabbed him and they made their way through the crowd. "Talk to you people later!" she called to the other three.
"So Arnold," Phoebe spoke first. "Did you get number four on our French homework?".
"Yeah, actually. It took me a long time to look through all the pages in the book but I think it's a verb. But so was-".
"I don't believe it. ARNOLD? Found the answer to something? This football headed geek surprises me each day," Helga laughed. Phoebe winced.
"You know Helga, I've had just about enough of you. Why don't you just shut the hell up, and leave me alone? I don't see you getting an A in French!" Arnold snarled.
"I..." Helga murmered, caught off guard. Fortunately for her, the bell rang. Backing up, she said "Too bad football head. You're lucky the bell rang. Otherwise, I would have given you a thrashing you'd never forget". She ran off.
"And that's supposed to scare me?" Arnold muttered.
He and Phoebe said their goodbyes and he headed for his Art class. That was one of the few classes he and Helga shared. He walked in and found himself looking for somebody. His eyes instinctively rested on Helga. She sat on the table two tables away from him. He had a perfect view of her. In a light blue shirt with short, slightly puffed sleeves and a wide neck that showed a little of her back and front, she looked absolutely exquisite.
Okaaaay, where did that come from? Arnold asked himself.
Helga was writing furiously in a light pink book. He'd catch her writing at least once every day in her book. Laying his school bag on the floor, he walked over to get some clay they were using to make masks. The huge pile of mushy clay lay on the table in front of Helga's and he had to walk by her to get some. As he passed her, who was still writing, his curiosity took over, and glanced over her shoulder to see what he could read in the book. To his surprise, there seemed to be a lot of 'Arnold's written all over the page. He grabbed some clay, and as he was about to get back to his table, he tried sneaking a glance again, but his timing was poor. Helga glanced up and glared at him menacingly.
Whatever...
Rolling his eyes, he made his way to the table and started his little sculpture. Unlike other girls who were 'ewww'ing and 'gross'ing at the cold clay, Helga handled it as if it was no big deal. He smiled slightly.
A few minutes later Mr. Hopkins, the art teacher, asked Arnold and Helga to come up to him after class. Wonder what he wants, he thought idly, unaware that he kept gazing at Helga.
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"Oh this is just great, stuck with stupid football-head for this stupid poster for the stupid dance!" she muttered, loud enough for Arnold to hear.
"I'm not so happy about this myself, Helga. Just shut up so we can finish this on time, K?" he said, exasperated. Mr. Hopkins had asked the two of them to paint all the posters for the dance. Actually, Arnold had always been given this job in the past. And he didn't mind it either. But with Helga...
"Yeah, yeah, just don't get in my way, Arnoldo," she hissed. They were in the school gym, on the floor making the huge posters and decorations. That didn't seem so bad. What she didn't like was the fact that they were surrounded by cheerleaders, who were practicing their moves. Helga detested cheerleading. She was hoping Arnold would too.
No such luck.
Every five minutes or so she'd catch him staring at the cheerleaders, especially one in particular: Rebecca. She was your average brunette cream pie, every boy's dream. Even though Helga had quite an attractive body, she was still a little skinny, somethnig she couldn't help. Rebecca on the other hand was definitely shapely, with lots of curves. Especially in the short, sleeveless cheerleading outfit, which she kept bending in, her back towards Arnold.
Slut, Helga fumed.
"You'd think with your experience with LILA, you'd be a little smarter, Arnold," she said to Arnold, not quite hiding her disdain for Rebecca.
"What's that supposed to mean, and what are you talknig about anyway?" Arnold asked, his eyes not leaving Rebecca for a second.
"I mean Rebecca. Criminy, she's got SLUT written all over her!".
"C'mon Helga, don't you think you're just stereotyping all cheerleaders?" .
Helga painted a huge red 'R' on the thick paper. "Was I talking about cheerleaders, in general, football head? Just her!" she said.
Arnold was about to say something, when Rebecca waved to Arnold, and called him over with her finger. Surprised, Arnold got up and sprinted off.
Five minutes passes. Ten. Fifteen, twenty. Meanwhile, Helga glared at the two, who were laughing and flirting. Well, Rebecca was anyway. Arnold looked pleased but slightly uneasy, she noticed. When he finally came back, she noticed he looked both embarassed yet pleased with himself.
She pretended to look busy as he came back. When he sat down on the floor next to her, she asked casually, "So what did she want?".
"Oh, she asked me if I could take her to the dance," he said dreamily.
Helga felt her anger rise. "Uh, huh. I don't believe you! First Lila, and now HER?" she asked loudly.
Arnold smirked. "Jealous much, Helga?".
"Yeah right.".
"I'm not taking her though," he said, picking up a paintbrush and examining it closely.
"What? Why not? You were practically drooling over her," Helga said, surprised.
"Hey, I was not drooling, ok," he said back, turning slightly red. "Besides, I have somebody else in mind,".
Oh please, please, let him ask me, I'd do ANYTHING, she prayed silently.
"Who's the unlucky girl, football head," Helga said before pinching herself. Great, even if he was about to ask me to the dance, now he won't.
Arnold laughed. "Wouldn't you wanna know?" he whispered leaning closer.
Helga stared into his deep green eyes, before shaking her head slightly and pushed him back by the chest. Too late, she realized her hands were covered with paint.
There, right on Arnold's shirt, lay two hand prints. "Helga, that was my favorite shirt!" he screamed.
Helga doubled over in laughter. "And I care about your stupid shirt because?".
She got her answer. In the next two seconds, her cheeks were covered with two huge streaks of green.
Autumn had always been Helga's favorite season of the year. Perhaps the atmosphere matched Helga's all-time mood: romance. She found a peaceful feeling at the sound of dry leaves rustling beneath her feet. The breeze gently lifted soft strands of her loose hair as she walked to school. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she smiled to the memory of the food fight that had happened two months ago, in August. After that day, she and Arnold hadn't talked much. Just an awkward 'hi' or 'hello' if they happened to come across each other. Even in those few moments of contact, she'd make a point of sneering at him or making a snide comment about his slightly football shaped head. Sure, he was one of the most gorgeous creatures she'd ever seen, but she couldn't help it.
As she walked through the dounble glass doors of the school, she caught sight of Phoebe talking to Rhonda. Rhonda had become a casual friend of Helga's, even though they'd tease each other about the way they were in childhood. Walking over to the two, they talked about their French homework, when Arnold turned around the corner with Curly by his side. Rhonda saw them both first, and called to them.
"Curly! And just why didn't you call me last night?" she shrilled.
Helga looked Curly over. He had definitely changed. Sure, the glasses were still there, but better frames. Changing his hairstyle had helped a great deal too. And he had seemed to grow a stong cleft in the chin, which gave him a much stronger, older look. She could see why Rhonda had fallen for him.
Without waiting for an answer, Rhonda grabbed him and they made their way through the crowd. "Talk to you people later!" she called to the other three.
"So Arnold," Phoebe spoke first. "Did you get number four on our French homework?".
"Yeah, actually. It took me a long time to look through all the pages in the book but I think it's a verb. But so was-".
"I don't believe it. ARNOLD? Found the answer to something? This football headed geek surprises me each day," Helga laughed. Phoebe winced.
"You know Helga, I've had just about enough of you. Why don't you just shut the hell up, and leave me alone? I don't see you getting an A in French!" Arnold snarled.
"I..." Helga murmered, caught off guard. Fortunately for her, the bell rang. Backing up, she said "Too bad football head. You're lucky the bell rang. Otherwise, I would have given you a thrashing you'd never forget". She ran off.
"And that's supposed to scare me?" Arnold muttered.
He and Phoebe said their goodbyes and he headed for his Art class. That was one of the few classes he and Helga shared. He walked in and found himself looking for somebody. His eyes instinctively rested on Helga. She sat on the table two tables away from him. He had a perfect view of her. In a light blue shirt with short, slightly puffed sleeves and a wide neck that showed a little of her back and front, she looked absolutely exquisite.
Okaaaay, where did that come from? Arnold asked himself.
Helga was writing furiously in a light pink book. He'd catch her writing at least once every day in her book. Laying his school bag on the floor, he walked over to get some clay they were using to make masks. The huge pile of mushy clay lay on the table in front of Helga's and he had to walk by her to get some. As he passed her, who was still writing, his curiosity took over, and glanced over her shoulder to see what he could read in the book. To his surprise, there seemed to be a lot of 'Arnold's written all over the page. He grabbed some clay, and as he was about to get back to his table, he tried sneaking a glance again, but his timing was poor. Helga glanced up and glared at him menacingly.
Whatever...
Rolling his eyes, he made his way to the table and started his little sculpture. Unlike other girls who were 'ewww'ing and 'gross'ing at the cold clay, Helga handled it as if it was no big deal. He smiled slightly.
A few minutes later Mr. Hopkins, the art teacher, asked Arnold and Helga to come up to him after class. Wonder what he wants, he thought idly, unaware that he kept gazing at Helga.
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
"Oh this is just great, stuck with stupid football-head for this stupid poster for the stupid dance!" she muttered, loud enough for Arnold to hear.
"I'm not so happy about this myself, Helga. Just shut up so we can finish this on time, K?" he said, exasperated. Mr. Hopkins had asked the two of them to paint all the posters for the dance. Actually, Arnold had always been given this job in the past. And he didn't mind it either. But with Helga...
"Yeah, yeah, just don't get in my way, Arnoldo," she hissed. They were in the school gym, on the floor making the huge posters and decorations. That didn't seem so bad. What she didn't like was the fact that they were surrounded by cheerleaders, who were practicing their moves. Helga detested cheerleading. She was hoping Arnold would too.
No such luck.
Every five minutes or so she'd catch him staring at the cheerleaders, especially one in particular: Rebecca. She was your average brunette cream pie, every boy's dream. Even though Helga had quite an attractive body, she was still a little skinny, somethnig she couldn't help. Rebecca on the other hand was definitely shapely, with lots of curves. Especially in the short, sleeveless cheerleading outfit, which she kept bending in, her back towards Arnold.
Slut, Helga fumed.
"You'd think with your experience with LILA, you'd be a little smarter, Arnold," she said to Arnold, not quite hiding her disdain for Rebecca.
"What's that supposed to mean, and what are you talknig about anyway?" Arnold asked, his eyes not leaving Rebecca for a second.
"I mean Rebecca. Criminy, she's got SLUT written all over her!".
"C'mon Helga, don't you think you're just stereotyping all cheerleaders?" .
Helga painted a huge red 'R' on the thick paper. "Was I talking about cheerleaders, in general, football head? Just her!" she said.
Arnold was about to say something, when Rebecca waved to Arnold, and called him over with her finger. Surprised, Arnold got up and sprinted off.
Five minutes passes. Ten. Fifteen, twenty. Meanwhile, Helga glared at the two, who were laughing and flirting. Well, Rebecca was anyway. Arnold looked pleased but slightly uneasy, she noticed. When he finally came back, she noticed he looked both embarassed yet pleased with himself.
She pretended to look busy as he came back. When he sat down on the floor next to her, she asked casually, "So what did she want?".
"Oh, she asked me if I could take her to the dance," he said dreamily.
Helga felt her anger rise. "Uh, huh. I don't believe you! First Lila, and now HER?" she asked loudly.
Arnold smirked. "Jealous much, Helga?".
"Yeah right.".
"I'm not taking her though," he said, picking up a paintbrush and examining it closely.
"What? Why not? You were practically drooling over her," Helga said, surprised.
"Hey, I was not drooling, ok," he said back, turning slightly red. "Besides, I have somebody else in mind,".
Oh please, please, let him ask me, I'd do ANYTHING, she prayed silently.
"Who's the unlucky girl, football head," Helga said before pinching herself. Great, even if he was about to ask me to the dance, now he won't.
Arnold laughed. "Wouldn't you wanna know?" he whispered leaning closer.
Helga stared into his deep green eyes, before shaking her head slightly and pushed him back by the chest. Too late, she realized her hands were covered with paint.
There, right on Arnold's shirt, lay two hand prints. "Helga, that was my favorite shirt!" he screamed.
Helga doubled over in laughter. "And I care about your stupid shirt because?".
She got her answer. In the next two seconds, her cheeks were covered with two huge streaks of green.