A/N: Update time! Finally, I MADE myself sit down and write a bit before I go to work. See, I have a bit of a problem. This year I am taking several hard and time-consuming classes, working at two different places, and I recently started my new workout program, meaning I don't have a lot of free time. However, this doesn't mean that I am abandoning "Where to Begin," it merely means that I am very busy, so don't expect updates every week. I'm shooting for every two or three weeks, which is bad, I know, but I just need to get my head on straight, both in my life and with my story. Then maybe they'll come a little sooner.
Disclaimer – I don't own Hey Arnold!.
Where to Begin
Chapter 21 – Blind Spot
"Damn it, damn it, damn it, shit, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, watch where the hell you are going! Damn it, damn it, damn it, shit, damn it, damn it."
"Helga, please calm down! It really won't matter that we were late if we die on the way there!"
"My driving's just fine," Helga spat. Her hands tightened their hold on the steering wheel. "I'm trying my best under the present circumstances. We're late, plus we still have to pick up the princess." Helga's eyes narrowed. "Stupid bitch," she muttered under her breath.
Phoebe heard her anyways. "Helga, could you please not call Rhonda that," she said in a slightly scolding tone, pushing Helga's temper further.
"Pheebes, you can shove that cock-and-bull up where the sun doesn't shine. You don't like her that much either."
"Helga, Rhonda's done a lot for you for this pageant."
"No, Mr. Lloyd's wallet has done a lot for me. Rhonda's just there to use the pretty card," she finished in a voice that eerily sounded exactly like Rhoda when she was excited about buying a new designer season wardrobe. "You trying being her little Barbie doll."
Phoebe raised her eyebrows. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen you were any of the clothes she bought you since the week after you got them."
"Let's just say I helped both myself and someone else."
"What did you do?" Phoebe asked slowly.
"Gave them to a church. I didn't want them, and I don't want to owe Rhonda Wellington Lloyd any more than I have to. Even if we sorta had a deal, that's far too much money. She can do my hair and makeup, but that's all."
Phoebe understood, and said nothing. Helga may come off as ungrateful, but it was really just a matter of pride, which was something that Helga had a lot of.
Helga pulled up in front of Rhonda's house, narrowly missing a parked Mercedes. She pounded on the horn, and after a minute of continuous, loud, annoying sound, Rhonda emerged from the house. Helga stopped, but when Rhonda took her sweet time down the stoop, Helga pressed on the horn again and did not let go. The dark haired girl ran to the car and flung the door open. "Helga G. Pataki! How dare you—"
"You know, Rhonda, I was about to say the same thing," Helga interrupted loudly.
"Girls! The pageant!" Phoebe cried.
Helga and Rhonda stared at her for a moment before registering what she had said. Rhonda jumped in the car, and Helga sped off, this time pulling out in front of a corvette.
"Would you watch it? I might know those people!" Rhonda cried.
"Rhonda, anyone who is stupid enough to drive with the top down in the middle of February in Washington is asking to be hit. I'd probably be doing them a favor."
"Helga, just drive," Phoebe hissed, but Rhonda was not done.
"Where the hell have you been? I've been waiting for forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes! Helga, I've got a lot of stuff I need to get done and I don't have time for you to waste it!"
"I'm wasting your time? Last time I checked I was the one in the pageant, but I could be wrong!"
"Helga, we're about five blocks away from the Women's Club, so just drive. Rhonda and I are here to help, so please stop jumping down our throats. It's not our fault you accidentally slept in, and may I remind you, if it wasn't for me calling you to ask what was wrong, you'd have bigger problems. And Rhonda, you are here just to help. Helga's got enough to worry about without you bitching at her. Just remember your deal."
Helga looked in the rearview mirror, her eyes locking with Rhonda's. They had a mission to beat Lila, and after all the work she had put into this, there was no way that was not going to happen.
Helga pulled into the parking lot of the Women's Club. A large sign near the entrance read:
Hillwood City Women's Club
February 22, 2003
Miss Hillwood Pageant Brunch – 9:30 AM
Miss Hillwood Pageant Preliminary Round – Noon
Good luck to all participants.
Remember: Everyone is a winner.
Helga glared at the sign before glaring at the clock in her car. It was 10:15. She muttered one last swear word, put the car in park, and jumped out of the car. Phoebe and Rhonda were grabbing all her stuff. "How do I look?" she asked as they began to run to the door.
"Helga! There's no time for that! RUN!" Phoebe cried.
Helga sprinted to the building and did not slow down until she reached the door of the Meredith Merewether Dining Hall, receiving many glares and shocked looks along the way. She smoothed her skirt, and walked into the hall. Everyone was eating, not too quietly either, much to Helga's surprise. Four round tables were placed near each other, and a large rectangular table was at the front of the room. Five girls sat at each table, and officers of the Women's Club, organizers of the pageant, and the ten judges sat at the high table. Helga spotted the rest of the girls in her group and walked towards the table, sneaking around by hiding behind one of the waiters.
"Helga, where have you been?" Sabrina Verducci asked as Helga sat down between her and Callie.
"We saved you some breakfast," Charlotte Amonte said, handing her a muffin and a thin slice of cantaloupe.
"Yeah, where the hell have you been?" Callie asked, stuffing a fist-full of grapes in her mouth. Sabrina shot her a look, but said nothing.
"We were so worried you wouldn't make it," Mackenzie DiMauro said sweetly.
"I slept in." She took a sip of the orange juice in front of her. "I know, I know. Out of all the days, it had to be today."
Sabrina let out a snort of laughter. The other girls stared at her in disbelief. "What the heck is that for? It's not funny," Callie snapped.
Sabrina shook her head. "No, no it's horrible. I'm just thinking about the Seinfeld episode with Jean-Paul."
Helga smiled, suddenly feeling a lot better. "I remember that one. It was a good one."
The rest of the girls lightened up, and they spent the rest of brunch talking about Seinfeld (The girls could not believe Charlotte had never seen the show). After about fifteen minutes, Mrs. Chadwick approached the microphone at the center of the main table, and she began a long, boring speech about how they should not be nervous, how it was an honor just to represent their school, and she end by saying that no matter what, everyone here was a winner.
"Yeah, accept the one who actually wins is the winniest winner." Mackenzie muttered.
"That's not even a word," Charlotte giggled.
"I should use it in my interview. I can just see it now: Very creative answers, but she has a tendency to make up words. After the pageant, make sure her mental health is examined very closely. If she is found completely insane, make sure to make her a key role in planning the next fifteen pageants."
The other four girls laughed. "Yep, that about sums it up," Callie said.
Mrs. Chadwick clapped her hands. "Okay girls, it's time to get ready. You have an hour to prepare. Remember, the order is interview, eveningwear, and talent. Good luck to all, and may the best young lady win."
The girls piled out of the hall and walked to the Blue Room where twenty makeup tables were set up for the girls. Dresses were everywhere. Helga found Rhonda and Phoebe beside a girl who looked exactly like Callie, except she had blonde hair.
"Oh, Helga, this is my sis, Renna," Callie said, sitting down in front of her sister.
"Hi," Helga said. She sat down, and Rhonda quickly started on her hair. "Interview's first."
"Gotcha."
"So, what did I miss?" Helga asked Callie, whose hair was being rolled in curlers.
"Chadwick's big speech, which was basically what she said when you were there, only twice as long and boring. Anyways, interviews are first. We're supposed to meet in the ballroom at five to noon. A member of the Women's Club will escort us to the judges who are in the—in the—well, they're in a room of some color. I want to say plum, but I know that's wrong. At least I think it is . . . ."
"Callie, focus."
"Right. Well, after that, we are escorted back to the dressing room so we can't talk about the questions with the girls who haven't gone yet. Then we have the evening gown competition, where we'll prance around in poofy dresses in front of the judges. That's in the ballroom, and after that we get ready for the talent competition, which is also in the ballroom. Then the horrible day is done, and we get to go home and wait for tomorrow when we might have to do it all over again, but next time in front of thousands of people."
"Great," Helga said. She began to zone out as Phoebe reviewed possible interview questions with her. Helga answered without putting much thought into it (she was making sure Rhonda would not poke her in the eye with the eyelash curler). Phoebe yelled at her, and Helga put a little effort into it, but she was still worried about the curling iron in Rhonda's hand.
Nearly an hour later, Helga was waiting for her name to be called. She was prim, pressed, and feeling like a china doll. She had the unfortunate task of sitting beside Lila, who looked rather pale and was fidgeting.
Helga was beginning to feel nervous herself. She had been rushing the whole morning, so she had not noticed the millions of butterflies swirling in her stomach. Just as a wave of nausea was about to sweep over her, a thin woman entered the room and said, "Miss Helga Pataki of West Hillwood High."
Somehow Helga stood up, her knees barely supporting her. She was about to try to step forward when a voice echoed, as if in a long tunnel, "Good luck."
Helga turned around and looked down. "To you as well," she said to Lila. "And may the best girl win."
Lila's eyes narrowed, and Helga walked towards the woman. She smiled. "Relax, dear, you will do fine."
Helga nodded, and was surprised her brain was still giving commands. It felt like it had turned completely off. They stopped in front of a door. "Inside here, dear, and good luck."
Helga swallowed hard. This it. The beginning of the end, she thought. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and walked into the room, ready for anything.
¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤
"And the final score is West Hillwood sixty-seven, Bishop Chatard sixty-two. West Hillwood will play the winner of the next game, and the winner of that game will be in the championship game against the winner from the east bracket."
Arnold took a large drink of water and wiped his forehead with a towel. It seemed like they had been playing for nearly five straight hours. Their first game had started at ten, and it was now nearly three. They had only played two games thus far, but they were both close, exhausting games that he barely came out alive from. He glanced at his right shoulder. A long, deep cut stared back at him, still bleeding and causing him pain. He winced as the trainer cleaned it and wrapped it with bandages. "There. Good as new." He said, practically shoving Arnold out of the chair he had been sitting in so he could deal with the rest of the West Hillwood team.
He wondered around until he found Gerald sitting at table full of food in one of St. Vincent's hospitality rooms (St. Vincent was the largest school in the state and was a perfect place to hold the annual tournament since it had four large gyms and numerous smaller gyms, training rooms, and locker rooms). Arnold sat down beside Gerald, slapping his ankle lightly.
"OW! Damn it, what are ya doing?"
"So the ice isn't numbing it?"
"I don't want to loose feeling in my foot, Arnold. I just need the swelling to go down."
"I can't believe you twisted your ankle."
"I probably sprained it." Gerald pulled the pack of ice off his ankle to reveal a swollen mass of blue and black flesh. "Hurts like hell, I can tell you that."
Arnold grimaced. It was a nasty sight, and he did not even want to know how much pain Gerald was really in.
"I talked to Phoebe."
"Oh?" Arnold asked, trying his best to sound uninterested although he was dying to know how Helga was doing.
"Uh-huh. She said Helga just has to sing yet, and she's doing fine."
"That's nice. Did she say anything about Callie?"
Gerald gave him a weird look. "No, she didn't. Why do you want to know how Callie's doing?"
"Because Callie's my friend, just like Helga is. My friend," he hinted.
"Whatever. At least Jake seems to have shut up since you and Helga made out." Gerald shoved a bunch of grapes in his mouth. Gerald's leg could be cut off, and he would still want to stuff his face with anything that was edible.
"Helga and I didn't make out!" Arnold cried, color rising to his cheeks.
"Well, whatever you did, thanks. That guy's been somewhat bearable this week."
Speak for yourself, Arnold thought. Every bit of bad blood between him and Jake was getting worse everyday. He was half expecting Jake to hire someone to eliminate him sometime in early March.
"For you, maybe," another voice said. Chris Vetter, a short sophomore who had a killer three point shot sat down beside him. Though Chris was practically third string in Jake's position, Jake made the boy's life hell out of fear that Chris would take his spot. "I don't think he'll ever lighten up on me." He looked at Gerald's ankle with a concerned face. "How's the ankle?"
Gerald shrugged, though he clearly liked all the attention (another one of the player's moms just brought him another plate full of fruit). "I don't know. I'm supposed to ice it for another ten minutes, then I'll see if I can walk on it."
Chris nodded and asked Arnold, "How's the shoulder?"
"Fine."
"Right, the only thing wrong with him is he's got a broken heart."
Arnold stomped on Gerald's good foot, causing the boy to yelp in pain.
Chris, however, looked horrified. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing. He said nothing," Arnold quickly replied.
"Chris, you know that Jake treats one person on our team worse than you, right?"
"Yeah. Arnold," he said, biting nearly half of his sandwich and chewing loudly.
"Do you know why?"
"Gerald, he doesn't need to know!" Arnold was glaring at Gerald, who was completely unphased by Arnold's protests.
"Uh, no, not really. I just noticed it's been really bad lately."
"Do you know who Jake's going out with?" Gerald asked Chris, his dark eyes dancing.
Arnold was about to strangle Gerald. "Shut up!" he muttered.
"What? He should know."
"You're going to tell everyone now?" Arnold cried.
"No, just people I like. Which is a lot of people, granted, but what can you do?"
"Shut up."
Gerald shook his head. "Nah, that's no fun. Anyways, do you know who Jake's going out with?"
"Uh, that really cute blonde. Helga Pataki, or something like that." Chris was watching them intently now.
"Right, Well, Arnold's been trying to steal her away from Jake. –"
"I have not!" Arnold yelled.
"Sure. Well, she actually likes Arnold better than Jake, and Jake knows this, everyone does, but she won't break up with Jake."
"Sounds like a messed up chick," Chris said.
"Oh, she is. Anyways, that's way Jake hates Arnold. That and Arnold got to second base with Helga while Jake was out of town."
Chris whistled. "Wow. No wonder he hates you."
"I didn't get to second base with Helga! I just kissed her!"
"Tongue?" Chris asked.
"A – a little, but –"
"But I bet you wanted to get to second base with Helga," Chris said, taking a drink of his water.
"Well, yeah, I guess, but I didn't do it!"
Both laughed at him. "At least you're honest, Arnold," Gerald said, pulling up his ice pack to look at his ankle again. "This is really nasty."
Coach walked into the room. "Let's go, we need to get ready. We play Concordia next. Johannsen, can you play on that?"
"I think so," Gerald gingerly tried to put weight on his ankle, and he was barely able to keep his balance. "Yeah, I'll be fine."
"Great. Now let's hustle. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon."
Chris got up and dragged himself across the room. Arnold turned to Gerald. "You can't play on that."
"Yeah, I can."
"Gerald, you can barely stand, let alone walk and run and jump. You can't play."
"Arnold, relax. If it starts to hurt too badly, I'll just tell coach, and I'll come out. It's no big deal."
Arnold's eyes narrowed. "And why did you tell Chris all that stuff?"
Gerald had the decency to look shameful. "Sorry 'bout that. I got a bit carried away. I was bored."
"Well, I'm glad you could use my failing love life for your entertainment."
"Arnold, relax and just worry about the game, okay?"
"Sure."
Two other players helped Gerald to the locker room while Arnold cleaned up their mess. As he looked up from the trashcan, he noticed that one player still remained with him. Jake was leaning up against the door looking at Arnold as if he would like nothing more in the world than to see Arnold in extreme pain. Arnold met his eyes, and the two silently watched each other. After a few moments, Jake broke his gaze and turned and left, but Arnold had a very bad feeling he had heard everything Gerald said. And that was a very bad thing.
¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤
"Very good, Miss Pataki. Thank you, and we will see you tomorrow night."
"Thank you," Helga replied, her voice faintly hoarse from singing, and curtseyed slightly to the judges, surprised at herself. She was escorted back to the dressing area by the same woman, who kept talking about Helga's voice. Helga liked the compliments, but only to a certain point. After a while it was just creepy.
Phoebe and Rhonda were waiting for her. "How did you do?" they asked together.
"All right, I guess." She sighed. "Where's Callie?"
"She and her sister had to go to their parents' banquet. She said she's sorry she couldn't say longer to see how you did, but she'll talk to you tomorrow," Rhonda said.
"Oh," Helga said, slipping out of her dress and into a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt. "Well, I don't have to be here any longer, so do you want to go?"
"Yes," Rhonda said excitedly. "These girls are getting on my nerves." She looked distastefully at several of the girls across the room.
Phoebe looked very concerned. "Helga, are you sure things went okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just tired. That's all."
Phoebe nodded, and Rhonda tapped her toes, clearly sick of waiting. Helga sighed again. "Let's go then."
Helga drove Rhonda home and then she and Phoebe continued on to St. Vincent High School, hoping that the boys were in the final game of the tournament. Phoebe tried to find the game on the radio, but the station said they were having technical difficulties. Helga drove just like she had earlier in the day, and she pulled into the parking lot as many were pulling out. The two girls popped out of the car and ran towards the door.
"Excuse me," Phoebe asked an older man as he walked towards them. "What's happening in the tournament?"
Helga noticed his East Hillwood High sweatshirt and gloomy face, and it took every ounce of self-control not to smile. Clearly someone had beaten East Hillwood, the team that was considered not only the best in the city, but also one of the best teams in the state.
"West Hillwood just beat East Hillwood, 50 – 49. Some little scrawny kid made two foul shots just before the buzzer rang. It was horrible."
Helga and Phoebe exchanged excited glances. "Thank you very much!" they cried as they ran to the gym.
The gym was packed with fans and students from West Hillwood watching the players cut down the net. The little boy Helga recognized as Chris Vetter, and the person she assumed made the last shots, was currently up on the ladder. Phoebe ran towards the injured Gerald, but Helga just stayed put, trying to take it all in.
Arnold was talking to Ryan O'Brien when he saw Helga. "Uh, I got to go, Ryan," he said with a big smile across his face as he started to run towards Helga. He could not wait for her to tell him how the prelims went.
He was half way to her when he slowed down, wondering how smart it was to talk to Helga when Jake wanted to kill him. What am I thinking? Screw Jake! He began again to run to her, but he was within ten feet when Jake scooped her up and swung her around. Arnold watched in horror as Jake looked like the perfect boyfriend, completely interested in her day even after he just won one of the biggest tournaments of the year.
Arnold sighed and returned to his teammates. Everything had seemed perfect; they had gotten East Hillwood back and he played great all day. Now all that was washed away. It did not seem as important if he could not even get close to Helga and share it with her. He looked for anything, anything to take his mind of his current pain, but he could not push it back in his mind. He was forced to deal with it himself, and he suddenly felt very alone.
¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤
"Lord, I have been waiting for this all day," Arnold muttered to himself several hours later as he flopped down on a couch. The team and many other students from West Hillwood were celebrating the boys' win at Matt Harrington's house. Mrs. Harrington, who was a member of the Hillwood City Women's Club, was a notorious cook, and Arnold was ready to take advantage of that with a plate full of food.
"Mind if I sit with you?" a quiet, sweet voice asked.
Arnold looked up from his plate. Lila was beside the couch looking down at him. He was not the least bit surprised; Lila had been practically clinging to him at school the past week, but she seemed genuinely happy to see him, and a little shy. "Sure," he said, more out of curiosity than the desire of her company.
She sat down, her blue eyes glittering. "So, you guys had a pretty amazing day," she said as she gently placed her napkin on her lap.
"I'd say so," he said, taking a bite of his chicken sandwich. "Can you believe we won the whole tournament? City Champs. Sounds pretty good, doesn't it?"
Lila laughed. "Hell ya!" she cried. She smiled widely and regained her normal composure. "And of course I can believe it. You guys deserve it."
Arnold shrugged, but he was happy all the same. "How were the prelims?"
Her face fell slightly. "All right, I guess. I didn't do as good as I hoped, but I still think I did okay." She lowered her gaze. "Helga did well."
Arnold blushed faintly. "I didn't ask that," though that was exactly what he had been wondering.
Lila's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, I just figured . . . ." Her words trail off into nothingness.
They sat like this for a couple of minutes, both feeling awkward, but Arnold was mostly confused. Lately Lila had wanted to rub it in at every opportunity that Helga was dating Jake, but now she did not want to talk about Helga . . . did that mean Helga did well?
"Are you ready for tomorrow?" she asked.
He turned his attention back to her. She seemed to have lost all of her swagger that usually surrounded her; her eyes were wide and seemed to be anxiously awaiting even the slightest comment from him. "Sure, I guess. I'd be more nervous if I was in your shoes." He paused, "But then I guess I'd have a lot more problems then just that."
Slivery laughter filled the air. It was not as genuine or as sweet as Helga's (which was actually loud and boisterous, but it was unique to her, and Arnold considered it one of the greatest sounds in the world), but it was nice all the same. "I'd say so," she replied, taking another bite of her sandwich. "I guess since I went through it today I won't be so stressed tomorrow. Not that I'll be as cool as a cucumber." She clasped a hand to her mouth. "I can't believe I just said something so dumb!"
Arnold laughed. "Personally I like as cool as the other side of the pillow, but it's just a personal preference."
They both continued to laugh. Arnold was in disbelief. He had not enjoyed being with Lila this much for a long time. She was acting like herself, an older version of that little girl he had liked so much in elementary school . . . pretty, sweet, everything he had ever imagined in the perfect woman . . . .
Wait, did I just think that? he thought. His gaze shifted from the pretty girl beside him to the pretty girl across the room. Helga was sitting on the floor beside Jake watching him play Playstation 2. She looked bored out of her mind . . . or was she upset?
He shook his head to jar any thoughts. Helga's blank expression made it nearly impossible to tell exactly what she was thinking. Helga usually wore her emotions right on her sleeve, but even then they could be the opposite of what she was really thinking. An innocent soul trapped in an enigma . . . such a strange yet beautiful entity.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" Lila asked, her words cutting cleanly through his thoughts.
Arnold faced her. Her voice had been perfectly flat, without even a bit of sarcasm, or any emotion at all. She was not making fun of him. He was speechless. He was afraid to confide in her, but the look on her face looked like she was going through the same thing. "Yeah, it does," she said finally, not closing the door, but not shutting it either. "Like hell."
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I honestly think that is the hardest place to be; loving something that doesn't, can't, or refuses to return those feelings." She played with her jello as if she was not even paying attention to her own words.
However, one of her words stuck out. "What?" he cried. "I don't—I—," he dumbly tried to defended himself.
"Arnold, it's pretty obvious. You usually don't show that much emotion, so your feelings for Helga must be strong if I can notice them."
He said nothing, for everything she had just said was true. He scooted the rest of his pea salad around his plate.
"Don't worry. You're not the only one."
"Who—"
"No one important," she answered, smiling slightly.
"Yet someone so important you would change everything just to make them happy," he finished. It was nice to finally talk to someone who actually understood. Gerald was head over heels for Phoebe, and she felt the same way. Josh was in a similar boat as Arnold with Callie, but he never took anything too serious, so it was practically useless to divulge in him. However, as good as it felt to get this off his chest, he wished he were talking to someone other than Lila. It was still a little weird.
"Hmmm," she muttered, and they sat in silence before they both muttered, "Ain't that the bitch?"
Lila laughed, and Arnold could not help but do the same.
"So, things went well today?" he asked, changing the subject to spare both of them the agony of talking about their failing love lives.
"I guess." She picked at her food, her face scrunched up as if she was trying very hard to keep something to herself. "I just—I just don't' know if I deserve it."
Arnold stopped chewing and stared carefully at her. "What are you talking about?"
She took a deep breath to collect her thoughts and to control her emotions. "I know that a lot of people think that the only reason I'm in this thing is because my stepmom's in the Women's Club."
"That's not true," Arnold said a little to quickly to be convincing. He felt horrible since he had thought the same thing.
"Sure it's not," she said, shaking her head slightly and rolling her eyes. "I'm well aware of what everyone thinks of me," she said, defiantly looking straight into his eyes.
Meaning you know how I feel, he thought. He had to admit that though his opinion of her was higher than that of many of his peers, but Arnold still did not think that much of Lila. After everything the girl had put him through, he did not blame himself for feeling the way he did.
She tore her eyes away from his when he did not respond. "The truth is, I'm not that bad, at least not anymore."
"I know that, and Lila, no body believes everything they hear."
She scoffed. "Arnold, please. You don't because you are a decent person. Not everyone is like you." She looked back at him. "I just wish everyone would get over all that, and see that I have changed, that I am a better person now."
Again, he did not know what to say. At times this was true, but he could also remember specific times that Lila acted in the manner that everyone expected her to. He finally found his voice. "Lila, you shouldn't can so much about what other people think of you."
"I don't. There are very few people who I actually hold their opinion in high regard. I just get tired of dealing with everything, you know?"
"Yeah," he said dumbly.
She smiled and stood up. "Well, I'm going to go home and get some beauty sleep." Her smiled widened. "And yet another cliché." Lila winked at him. "See ya, Arnold."
"Bye."
She started to leave, but turned around to face him again. "And Arnold?
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for everything."
"Uh, no problem." He had not been expecting that.
"Later, Arnold."
"Good night, Lila."
He watched her as she said good-bye to everyone. He noticed that most people were just being polite and would immediately talk about her as soon as she left. It had to be hard, but she put herself in that situation. Then again, most people did not even try to get to know her.
He shook his head. Feeling sorry for both Lila and himself was giving him a royal headache. He roamed around the house, talking to various people about nothing at all. He was talking to Matt when a couple in the living room caught his eye. Jake was stoking Helga's hair and talking to her softly. Arnold's eyes blazed. "Excuse me, Matt," he said curtly, and stormed off. Matt was confused by Arnold's sudden mood change, but he found more interesting people to talk to, and Arnold was quickly removed from his mind.
Arnold managed to find Gerald in the mess of people. He was sitting with his ankle propped up, and Phoebe was tucked under his arm, and they both looked like they were having the time of their lives. That must be nice, he thought angrily.
"Arnold? Where have you been, man? We were just talking about you!" he cried loudly.
"Really?" he said blandly.
"Yeah, I's just saying to Phoebe, 'where's Arnold? 'E really needs to let loose and 'ave a goot time.'" He stopped, and sputtered. "I's just said a goot. A goot, Arnold! I'm Canadian!"
Arnold just stared at Gerald, who was clearly drunk, and judging by Phoebe's expression, she was as well, though most likely not as much as Gerald. "That's nice."
"Aw, lighten up, Arnold. You're way too uptight. You gots to live a little, Football Head. Today's a happy day!"
Arnold's eyes narrowed. Gerald never, never called him that. Helga was the only one who did, and the last thing he needed was to be reminded of Helga's nickname for him. "Right. Real happy day." That emotion was long gone. "I just came over to tell you that I'm leaving."
"Leaving? So soon?" Phoebe asked.
"Yeah. I figure I have a lot of stuff to get done for tomorrow, and I should probably get some sleep. It'll be a very long day."
Phoebe nodded, but Gerald shouted, "PARTY POOPER!"
Several people around them laughed. Gerald beamed at the attention.
"Right." Arnold snapped. "Well, good-bye."
They said good-bye, and Gerald and Phoebe spotted Matt, leaving without a second thought to Arnold.
He growled in frustration, and as he left a disturbing thought came to the surface: The only one who had paid much attention to him was Lila.
¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤
Helga closed her eyes for a moment, and slowly opened them. She was tired and very stressed, though Jake playing with her hair was very calming. She was sitting on the floor while he lay on the couch behind her. She leaned back closer to him, loving the attention. He was talking to her about everything accept her parents, basketball, and the pageant. He was currently on topic #246, Martians. Jake seemed to believe in aliens (she was not quite sure if he was joking or not) and explained abductions by comparing them to fishing. ("When we catch a fish, sometimes we don't throw it back right away. We may just keep it as a pet. Well, what if all that fish's fish friends assume that he's dead, since that's what we do when people are missing for a long time. He's really not dead, he's just a pet. Well, what if the Martians are just keeping us as pets?")
"Do you honestly believe that?"
He tugged her hair affectionately. "Naw, I stole it from Comedy Central."
She laughed lightly and turned around to face him.
He brushed the hair out of her face. "How did I get lucky enough to be with somebody so beautiful?"
She blushed deeply as he kissed her nose.
"You're going to hate me, but I have to ask."
"What's that?"
"Did things really go that well today?"
She bit her lip. "Well, I was late, but other than that, it went well. Really well, actually, but I'm not expecting anything."
He smiled. "I can't wait to watch you tomorrow." His expression became very serious. "Are your parents going to be back?"
Helga's face fell. "I hope so," she said softly.
"I'm sure they wouldn't miss it for the world."
She put a little smile on her face for his sake, but she did not feel so optimistic. Yes, her parents had been obsessing about the pageant since she told them she was in it, but they had said very little about it after they learned Olga was coming to Seattle. Suddenly it was not as important, just like everything else that had to with Helga whenever Olga came into the picture . . . .
"Helga?"
Jake had noticed her mood change. "Oh, sorry. I just can't wait for Monday."
He laughed. "Wow. You're actually looking forward to a Monday." He grinned. "I don't blame you. You've pushed yourself to the braking point stressing about everything. I'm still not sure how you've gotten through all this. You need to teach me whatever your secret is. I freak out if I have a quiz in accounting, and that class is ridiculously easy."
"To be honest, I have no idea either." One name tried to push its way up to the service of her thoughts, but she refused to think about him.
"Well, from now until the pageant, you just need to relax," he said softly as he gently pressed his lips against hers. Chills ran down her spine. He pulled away, much to her displeasure. "You just need to enjoy everything. Enjoy the night."
She was suddenly very nervous as he kissed her again. "Uh, Jake, um—"
He leaned his forehead against hers. "Helga, I wasn't implying that. I just mean you shouldn't think too much about anything. Just live."
She blushed deeply. "I know. I was just making sure," she said softly. His ambiguous words did not comfort her at all.
He looked down at her perplexed face and laughed lightly. "C'mon, I'll take you home. You look like you need to sleep."
She pretended to look offended. "Excuse me? What's wrong with how I look?"
"You look amazing. Tired, beautiful, and slightly pissed off. It's a look you pull off very well."
She laughed. "I'm not so sure about the beautiful and amazing part, but everything else fits very well."
"Hmmm, well, I think the second part sums you up the best." He kissed her again. "C'mon, let's go. You really do need to get to sleep."
She sighed. "What would I do without you?"
The question seemed to bother him greatly. He was silent as he stood up and helped her to her feet. "I'm sure you would manage," he said coldly.
Helga stared at him. His sudden mood change was not characteristic of Jake; it was something she would do.
He grinned at her change of expression. "Just not as well," he finished.
She smiled slightly as they left. Jake watched her like a hawk on the way to her house to make sure that she was happy and in a good mood at all times. She had to admit it was great to get all the attention but still . . . it felt hollow.
Jake left soon after they reached her house, and she missed him. Jake had been very supportive over the past week, even after . . . Helga refused to think about it. It only brought more pain, and she did not need anymore at that. She sighed. Why is it even when things go well, I still get that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that makes me feel like bawling my eyes out? she thought as she pulled the covers over her head. The preliminaries went very well, and she was very confident about tomorrow, but the feeling remained the same.
Something seemed to be missing the entire day, and she knew what that was. She had not talked to Arnold all day. He seemed to be avoiding her. That's probably best, she thought sadly.
Helga closed her eyes. It was all almost over. Tomorrow was the last day for the pageant, but all her problems would still remain. "And I still have no idea what to do," she said to the dark room as she fell asleep. No idea whatsoever.
A/N: I changed the name of this chapter. I felt it suited it better. Anyways, I'll update as soon as I can. Later days.