Special Corner:
Demile: Breathe… breathe, okay, please, I need you to breathe so I can have my Every Time It Rains! I highly recommend all Rhonda and Lila haters, all Helga-Goth lovers, and anyone who likes the scent of apricot to read it. Thanks for liking my story.
WayAmy27Narf: AH! falls out of bed Hey, buddy, try not to scream like that, some people enjoy nap time! And thanks for sticking me on your Author Alert, by the way. Peace sign
Tiffy JC: Oh, yeah… well… she was drugged out, right? Does it count? Okay, yeah, it does, sorry then. Totally forgot about the time she was at the dentist. Thanks for reading.
Okay… so… do any of you want me to waste time with my usual paragraph long talk-to? (All stare expectantly, tapping feet with impatience.) No? (Readers: STOP TALKING!) Okay…
Disclaimer: Lawyers must be crack heads if they need one of these per chapter. I still don't own this junk, you guys, it's not like I'm going to claim I bought all of the rights to this stuff overnight! Oh, wait, lookie, I did! Just kidding… to my displeasure… hey, what's with the handcuffs, guys?
"Hey. Are you ready?"
For a moment, Arnold could only stare at her. Then, shaking himself out of the statue position, he nodded nervously. "Yeah. Did you, um, want to come in?"
Cecile looked like she was about to say no, but then thought better of it. He was glad. He suddenly didn't feel able to walk anywhere at the moment. "Sure, Arnold. If it's all right with you're grandparents."
Arnold opened the door wider and stepped back to allow her in. When she was halfway up the steps, a herd of running animals pushed her back down. Arnold jumped and ran down the stoop to help her up. "Sorry, I'm so sorry, Cecile, I guess you didn't know that would happen. I totally forgot that they do that." He held out his hand for her to use for support, but she ignored it and pushed herself from the ground.
"It's okay, Arnold," she panted. She was surprised by the stampede. "Quite a variety of animals you've got there, Foo… Food must be a problem, hmm?" she asked tensely, a tone that Arnold noticed but decided not to point out.
"Um… yeah, sometimes," he answered. He started to walk back up the steps. "Are you coming?"
Cecile ran a finger through the back of her hair and straightened her dress. "Yes."
Once inside, Arnold closed the door and turned to her. "So," he said, smiling. "Now it's a British accent?
Cecile smiled mischievously at him. "So, what? Maybe I like variety."
They stood in the hallway awkwardly for a moment, each waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Arnold said, "Do you want to say hi to my grandparents?"
She sighed lightly, grateful for something to do other than standing. "Of course I do." They both walked into the dining room, where the boarders and Arnold's grandparents sat eating dinner. His grandmother was still in her ballroom getup. They all looked up as the two of them appeared in the doorframe. Some smiled at them, some stood from their chairs, and some waved in greeting.
Phil, however, felt his eyes widen in surprise and the little color in his face drain away. Then, he grinned and chuckled to himself. Cecile, seeing this, tilted her head forward so the giant sized waves in her hair would fall a little more in her face, hiding her features. Before Arnold could introduce her, Phil stood up, still grinning, and said, "Miss Cecile, I presume. Hello, Arnold's spoken so much about you lately." Cecile smiled a little behind her hair, and Arnold looked embarrassed. "I'm Arnold's grandpa, Phil, and this crazy lady right here is Pookie." He jabbed his thumb at her. "How are you tonight, Cecile?"
Cecile looked up slightly and smiled politely. "I'm fine," she said quietly.
"Oh, there's no need to be shy," Susie said, holding out a hand for her to shake. "I'm Susie Kokashka, and this is my husband… Oscar." She looked at him (still eating), and then returned her gaze to Cecile. "So, Arnold, where are you two going tonight?"
"Chez Paris," he answered. "In fact, we'd better leave now if we want to get there in time. Bye, guys."
Cecile nodded to the group, and walking next to Arnold, exited the room. When they boarders heard the door close, they busted out into conversation.
"She's really pretty, Arnold's got a way with the ladies," Ernie said, leaning forward on the table to express his point.
Susie elbowed Oscar. "Why didn't we go to a nice place tonight, huh?"
Oscar swallowed and said, "I thought you wanted to have a nice night at home, Susie."
"Yeah, right, you just didn't have any money."
"That, too."
Pookie was rubbing her hand over her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… she looked an awful lot like Eleanor Roosevelt, didn't she?"
All of the boarders turned to stare at her for a moment. Finally, Hr. Huynh said, "Isn't Eleanor Roosevelt… dead?"
Phil laughed and patted Pookie on the back. "You know, I really think that is Eleanor."
"Yeah?" Ernie said, not understanding at all. "Well, I think she looks more like that scary little girl that Arnold keeps complaining about, but I'm pretty sure that's not…" He ended his train of thought when he saw the pointed gaze Phil was giving him. "Ooooh!"
!#$%&(){}:" ?
It was working out so incredibly well, Helga almost thought she was dreaming. Phoebe had styled her hair so that the waves would almost always cover most of her eyes, cheeks, and anything else besides the middle parts of her face. It had also been her idea to use an accent, again, to disguise her voice until the end of the night. There was the time a few minutes ago where she was pretty sure Arnold's grandfather had recognized her, but if he had, she was extremely relieved that he hadn't said anything. He was a good liar, that Phil.
And Arnold had no idea, either. This was Helga's greatest pride, that even as she showed up right in front of him, he had been fooled, just as last year. Her and Phoebe were either geniuses or Arnold definitely wasn't. She liked to think it was her and Phoebe.
They had been walking down the sidewalk for a while before Arnold said, "You look beautiful, you know."
Helga smiled and tried to keep her heart from pounding too hard. Arnold just said I was beautiful! I think I'm going to die! Instead of voicing her thoughts, she said, "Thanks, Arnold. You look good, too." As always, she silently added.
Arnold grinned and said, "Thanks. By the way, you're British accent is a lot better than your French one. It sounds more sophisticated."
Helga stopped and eyed Arnold for a moment. "Arnold," she said, "are you trying to make a point that you don't yet know who I am?"
"Yeah," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and sighing. "Am I that obvious?"
"Yes, you are," Helga said simply, trying to tease him in a light fashion, not getting carried away like usual. Remember, I'm not risking anything here. He doesn't know it's me yet. "And if I were you, I'd work on my subtlety. In case you didn't fully realize it, every single blond female in the grades four through six is being accused of being me. I know it's not your fault, but I hear that some of them are very, very mad at Rhonda."
The two of them began to walk again, this time, not in silence. "About that," Arnold said, "are you even one of the people Rhonda wrote about in her article? You don't look like anyone I know, but you have to be at my school if you know about this stuff!"
Helga bit her lip, tasting her lip-gloss. She pulled her teeth back and turned to him. How could she keep pulling his suspicion? "I don't think I can answer that just yet. I'm sorry. Can we stop talking about that and, I don't know, maybe talk about something else?"
Arnold nodded, feeling embarrassed again. "Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I'm just a little impatient, you know?" They walked a few more beats before he said, "But can I ask you one thing? Just one?"
Helga looked sideways at him, but she wasn't sure he could see through her hair. "I guess," she replied. She was worried about what it would be.
"Do you know that girl I kept talking about last year, Helga? The one who picks on me a lot?"
Helga nodded, relieved it wasn't something else. "Arnold, if I know about Rhonda, what makes you think I don't know about her?"
"No, wait, I worded that wrong," he said quickly. "I meant to say did you know her well, like are you two good friends or what, because she keeps talking to me about you."
Okay, this definitely wasn't what Helga expected. If it weren't so chancy she would think it was ironic. Her heart ate was increasing again, but it wasn't good. "Uh… well, uh, yeah, you could say that. I mean, yes, I know her pretty well." She groaned inside. Why had she stuttered?
Arnold looked at her for a long time, thinking. He said just one question, so he knew he had to drop it now, but he couldn't help but wonder…
!#$%&(){}:" ?
"Bon jour, monsieur, mademoiselle, welcome to Chez Paris. Do you have a reservation?"
"Yes," Arnold said to the host. "It should be under the name Arnold."
"Arnold what?"
"Arnold -"
"Ah, yes, here we are, the only Arnold on the list." He said. Arnold thought he heard Cecile sigh in annoyance, but he didn't know why. They were led to their table, seated, and handed a menu.
Cecile scanned over the menu, trying to find what she wanted to eat. Arnold looked over his menu and suggested, "So, uh, do you want to start with an appetizer?"
"Sure, what do you want?"
After they had ordered and went halfway through their appetizer, Arnold felt the heavy silence fall on them. He didn't want it there, he wanted to talk about something, but what could they talk about? He knew this wasn't his Parisian friend, so she was probably just about as average as him. He'd start with the average things. "So, Cecile, do you like sports?"
Cecile swallowed the food in her mouth and nodded. "Yeah, I do. A whole lot. And you?"
"Yeah, I love them, especially baseball. I had a fit of Dangerous Lumber once, though, and I couldn't stop conking people over the side of the head whenever I hit the ball."
Cecile giggled and Arnold had to laugh with her. Her laugh was mostly warm, but also a little mocking. "Oh, my God, I'm glad whenever I play baseball I'm not to close to the front of the bat."
Arnold picked up a cheese stick (BLFBH: yeah, I know that's not very gourmet, but I haven't exactly been to a French cuisine restaurant lately!) and said, "Have you ever been to Gerald Field?"
"Yeah, from time to time. I don't ever really get too involved, though." She took a sip of her iced tea. "I see you play often, though, and I think it's hilarious whenever that Harold has to eat his words."
"Thanks… wait, you are complimenting me on beating him, right?" he asked, to make sure he wasn't being foolish and saying thanks for no reason.
Cecile smiled again. "What did you think I was doing?" Her smile was innocent and shy and Arnold loved it.
"So what's your favorite sport if not baseball? Soccer, basketball…?"
"Wrestling," Cecile automatically said, then covered her mouth quickly. He didn't know if it was because she said wrestling was her favorite sport or because for a split second her accent had slipped.
He lifted an eyebrow and said, "Wrestling? I always thought that was a guy thing."
Cecile relaxed and nodded. "It was my dad who got me into it, really. He watches it all of the time, I've grown into it."
"Why do you like wrestling, though?" he asked, enjoying the fact that they were having a real conversation. "Isn't it a little violent?"
"Oh, yeah!" she exclaimed. "But it's all fake violence, anyway, you barely ever even see blood or anything. Now, boxing, that is one violent sport. I heard Mike Tyson bit off someone's ear! Isn't that disgusting?"
"Uh… Cecile," Arnold said. "I'm eating."
"Oh. Sorry." She looked like she had made a vile mistake and was trying to hide it.
"Hey… hey, Cecile, I didn't throw up yet, you know." Cecile rolled her eyes at the comment, but it looked like she knew it wasn't a big deal.
The two of them continued to talk through dinner, and Arnold was learning more and more about her. It seemed that she told him pretty much anything that wouldn't give her identity away, but at the moment, he didn't think too much on that. He learned she enjoyed art, like writing and making things from everyday trash, while he liked cinematography and drawing. They shared opinions on movies and the news, agreeing in some places, and arguing in others. She was really dedicated to her point, stubborn almost. They talked about music. He liked modern jazz and soft rock, she (yet again, surprisingly) liked metal and hard rock, but they shared common likings. They talked about school a little bit, and he found out that Cecile didn't like Lila… at all. She tried to be polite about it, though, but it looked at one time that she really hated her. I'm very glad I don't like her like that or I would've stormed out of here after that look, Arnold thought disturbingly.
"Hey, Arnold?" Cecile said, looking a little nervous. Not for the first time that night.
He wondered why she was so nervous this time, when last time she seemed both happy and a little ticked off at a certain point. "Yes?" he asked.
"Why was your grandma wearing an eighteenth century Victorian style ballroom gown? Does she do that often?"
Arnold laughed. "Everyday!" he said. "According to her, my name is Kimba, watermelon is the national food of Japan, and she is frequently visited by Eleanor Roosevelt. She's pretty… well, she's imaginative, if you catch my drift."
Cecile's face was blank for a moment, but then she nodded. "Yeah, I get you… Arnold?"
"Yes?"
Cecile twirled her hair around her finger and looked around the crowded restaurant, filled with adult couples or groups of high school friends on double dates. "Arnold, if you don't mind me asking, why do you live with your grandparents, anyway?"
Arnold dropped his fork with his steak tartare (sp?) on it. He froze up for a minute, staring at his late, but then his eyes moved up to a concerned looking Cecile. "Why?" he asked, maybe a little colder than he should have said it.
Cecile bit her tongue and leaned forward over the table. "I'm sorry, if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. If it's that bad, then…" She paused when he looked up at her, almost standing in her chair. "I'm sorry I brought it up. I-"
"No, I…" he sighed. "I'm sorry, it's not your fault, you're just curious. I've just never had anyone ask me about that before."
"Not even your friend Gerald?"
He shook his head. "No. If he ever did, I told him I didn't really know, except for the stories my grandpa used to tell me."
"Arnold, if you don't want to say…"
"Look," he said seriously, "it isn't like I'm not going to tell you. Because I am. It's actually a very interesting story, most of it…"
So he told the story of his parents that he'd learned both from his grandfather and his dad's journal. Through most of it, Cecile was silent, listening with wide eyes, as if with every word he said she grew greedy for more. "So they left me at the boarding house, saying they'd be back in, like, a week. I turns out they didn't come back… but there's no evidence they aren't coming back, though."
"Wow," Cecile breathed, stunned. "I can't believe it. If I'd known that I would've stopped my…" She hesitated and said, "Yeah, well, my parents aren't so hot. You're grandparents seemed a lot nicer than mine, and you have so many people living with you. You're more loved than I am, at least." She looked downcast and avoided eye contact.
Her hand hadn't moved ever since she'd stood up, and it was halfway across the table. Arnold could reach it if he wanted to. And he wanted to. He took her hand in his and she looked up, surprised. "Yeah?" Arnold asked, smiling. "Who says?"
Cecile kept her shocked expression for another second and then she smiled. "Thanks," she whispered. They held hands for a few more seconds before both pulled back awkwardly, looking down at their near empty plates. "Have you finished?" she asked him.
He nodded. "Yeah, I'm done. Are you?" She nodded, too. "Are you ready to leave?" She nodded again. "Uh, waiter?"
"Don't you mean garcon (sp)?" Cecile joked.
The waiter appeared and handed them the bill. Arnold paid him, and stood from his seat. He was going to go over to Cecile's chair and pull it back for her, but she had stood already. "Oh," she said. She smiled innocently. "Did you want to be a gentleman?"
"Yeah," Arnold said. "If it isn't too much trouble."
"Nope!" Cecile chimed, and happily sat back down and pulled herself up to the table. Arnold laughed with her as he pulled her chair back. It was pretty childish that they make a point in this. He held out a hand for her to take to step out, but she pushed it away. "I let you do that, you don't have to be too nice. Thanks, though."
Together they walked out of the restaurant.
!#$%&(){}:" ?
Helga could sing.
She was too smart, though, and the biggest thing she let out ever was a joyous laugh at something Arnold did. It was hard keeping up the British accent, and making sure her hair was always hiding parts of her face. It was working beautifully, though, even better than last year… Of course, last year he thought she was a brunette, but still!
The two of them were walking side by side down the sidewalk. Helga was nibbling on the candy hearts with little lovey-dovey messages on them. They had each bought a box (well, Arnold had bought one for her), and were making fun of the worst notes. "You know what I don't like on these?" Arnold said. "The ones in Internet grammar. Because when the hearts rub together and some letters get rubbed off, you don't have any other letters to make out what the word says. Also it just looks stupid."
"Well, that's observant," Helga said mockingly. "No, I mean really, that's a very specific pet peeve."
"It is not a pet peeve," Arnold said defiantly. "It's just dumb."
Helga rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh… it's a pet peeve, Arnold, but at least it only comes once a year. Don't deny it."
Arnold sighed and popped a heart in his mouth. "Whatever you say, Cecile," he droned.
Helga looked at him for a moment and the snorted in laughter. She half-expected him to say her real name at the end of that; she heard it so often. Arnold looked at her in confusion. "What's so funny?"
Her laughter quickly died down and she regained her composure. "Nothing, nothing," she answered.
"Okay," he said slowly, obviously waiting for her to let him in on the joke. Seeing he wasn't going to get it, he picked up another candy heart and read the message aloud. "Foxy mama." He looked at her grinning. "I wonder what a guy normally does if someone gives him this one."
"Probably tosses it back and asks for another," Helga suggested, digging in hers for a red one. "The white and green ones are horrible tasting, you know." She picked one up and said, "I love you."
Arnold looked up quickly. "Huh?!"
"That's what it says," Helga said, not noticing his reaction just yet. "The candy."
Blinking, Arnold looked forward again. "Yeah…. Hey, I'll eat your white ones if you want, I think they're okay."
Helga looked up at him, biting her lip. He got all jumpy when I said… Oh, man, did he or was I just imagining it? She handed him the white heart in her hand, the one she'd just read. "Thanks," she said. She shrugged it off and picked up a red one, not reading the note. She bent her head to see past Arnold, across the street. They were about to pass the City Park main entrance. She grabbed his arm and pulled him across the street, ignoring his yelps.
"Cecile… hey, Cecile, what are you doing?"
She was running with him pulled behind her, until they reached the entrance. She stopped and leaned forward, catching her breath. She stood up and jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. "I wanted to go through the park. You coming?"
Arnold cocked his head, staring at her. Then he shrugged. "You're really spontaneous, you know that?"
"Oh, and like you're not?" Helga shot back. "Mister Post-Notices-To-Get-A-Date-At-The-Last-Moment."
"Thanks a lot," Arnold said sarcastically, following her into the park.
A few minutes later, they were in the center of the park. Helga cupped her hands in front of her face and blew in them, then rubbed them together. Arnold looked at her and placed a hand on his coat. "Are you cold?"
"Naw, I'm fine," Helga said, pretending to be unaffected by the cold February air. She saw Arnold looking at her with determined eyes, and she groaned. "Fine, I'm freezing! Can I have that please?"
He smiled and handed her his jacket, feeling satisfied. He looked around the park, eyes half-closed in contentment. "It's really cool here at night," he pointed out.
"Seriously," Helga mumbled, holding the jacket tight.
"No, I mean it's cool looking," Arnold said. "It looks completely different than it does in the daylight."
Helga glanced around, and nodded. "You're right. I'm here at night all the time and I've never taken the time to notice that fully." She pointed up at the night sky. "You can't see too many stars, but the moon is pretty big, huh?"
"Not even full and it's huge," Arnold noted, following Helga's gaze. "I hate it when I can't see the stars. One time Gerald and I got the whole city to turn off it's lights, though, so we could see Sally's comet. Too bad we can't do that every night."
"That was really awesome, you doing that," Helga said quietly. "It was really impressive. You even got my dad to turn off his lights, and do you know how much of a miracle that is?" She laughed and then looked away. It was still strange, complimenting him to his face.
Arnold kicked at the dirt on the path and smiled. "Yeah, Gerald claims that someday we'll be legends for all the stuff we do. Gerald can have a pretty big head sometimes, though. I don't think we're big enough to be legends."
"You're too modest Arnold!" Helga said. "You may not be legends, yeah, but the stuff you do… what I've heard you've done, it's huge. Like I said, impressive."
Arnold smiled and looked down. It looked like he was looking at her knees. Helga took a chance and followed his line of sight. He was eyeing her hand. She shot her eyes back up and pretended not to notice, save for her opening her hand a little, hopefully. Arnold's eyes moved away and he crossed his arms tightly. A giant balloon that had inflated in Helga's gut deflated quickly. "Thanks, Cecile," Arnold said, and he fell out of step with her. Helga bent her head forward a little so as not to look affected too much by Arnold's decision. She moved it out of her mind and set her thoughts on something else.
Helga smiled and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She could tell Arnold really liked Cecile. "So, Arnold…" she said, twisting around to look at him behind her. "Figured who I am yet?"
Arnold lifted and eyebrow and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "No, I haven't. But I've been trying really hard…." He looked at the ground for a few seconds and then looked back at her. "Why ask me that now?"
Helga bit her lip and rubbed her right arm. "Well… because. If you figured it out, then I don't have to do what I'm about to do." Her hand rested on the spot where the ribbons on her arms tied. She messed with the knot and loosed it, pulling it off of her arm. Arnold's face was contorted with surprise and confusion. Wow, I've gotten this far and he still doesn't know? He probably doesn't want to… but he's gonna.
She turned around and bent forward so her hair fell forward. She lifted her ribbon to her hair…
(Readers: GASP!) Cliffhanger? (Readers: Ya! leans forward in seat, thinking Briana I only tricking them and is really going to continue)Laughs evilly Nope! But trust me, I'm glad you guys are enjoying this. Go ahead, throw that fruit at me, I don't like tomatoes anyway, too soft and gooey. (Readers: These are BRITISH tomatoes…) Eep! Tomato war! Runs to safety of boarding house You'll never take me alive! NEVA!(Readers: Like we care, we just want you to update again! Before we all DIE!) Fine, fine, doing… and if I'm too late, I'll send your loved ones a lovely gift basket.
And do you know how hard it was during the Arnold point of views to keep him thinking Cecile and not Helga? I had to backspace Helga's name a bazillion times, man! I know at the beginning of the story. The scene with the candy hearts… yeah, if anyone read a story with a scene similar to that one, tell me what the title was. I know I read it somewhere and didn't remember until after I wrote it, I want to make sure I didn't subconsciously plagiarize.
BrianaLFBH
