A/N: Only a short one.
Friday quickly rolled around, and nobody in the class, bar Phoebe and Gerald, had finished their stories. Although Phoebe sat proudly at the front of the class fondly straightening her folder, she was complaining to Gerald that it really wasn't her best work. She wished she had the weekend to revise it. Mr. Simmons started the class in his usual, happy fashion.
"Ok class, who's completely finished their assignment?" Even Phoebe didn't raise her hand, much to Gerald's suprise. She shot him a 'I-can't-hand-this-in' look and he didn't say a word. "No one?" Mr. Simmons ventured. Still no response. He sighed. "Ok, Monday then please class?" he said exasperated, and he continued on with their usual lessons.
At lunch time, Arnold decided to speak to Helga about finishing their story, but she was no where to be seen. He went to ask Phoebe, but she just waved him away and continued her conversation with Gerald. He looked around the cafeteria one last time and then chanced out into the hall. Rhonda met him on the way out. "If you're looking for Helga, she's in the toilets, sobbing her heart out," she said as if she couldn't care less. Arnold fixed her with a cold stare, but she wasn't looking at him. He felt for Helga, he wondered what could possibly be wrong. He wanted to go and find out, but there was no way he could go into the girl's toilets. He went back to the cafeteria and told Phoebe what Rhonda had said. Like lightning Phoebe sprang into action, leaving Arnold to sit in her place and ignore Gerald's questions about what was going on.
Phoebe pushed open the door to the girl's toilets. It clunked heavily back into place as she crouched down, looking under the stalls, checking for feet. "Helga? It's me, Phoebe." She immediately heard the sound of a lock being unbolted. It was on the very end stall.
"I thought you were Princess Rhonda coming back for another go," she whispered. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her voice sounded small.
"What's wrong Helga?" Phoebe asked, entering the stall and re-locking the door behind her. She put her arms around her best friend's shoulders. For a while Helga said nothing, just let out spasmodic sobs which Phoebe replied to with a reassuring squeeze.
"This was meant to be me getting over him Phoebe," she finally whispered. "Finally admitting defeat and letting go."
"But you can't?"
"I'll never let go of Arnold," she whispered, blessing his name as it breathed through her lips.
Helga had asked for five minutes alone while she cleaned herself up towards the end of lunch, so Phoebe returned to the cafeteria. As she expected, she was immediately met at the door by and anguished Arnold.
"Phoebe! Phoebe, is Helga ok?" he asked worriedly.
"She's fine, she's just cleaning herself up."
"What's wrong with her, did something happen at home?" He really was quite concerned about her. Phoebe swallowed. Maybe now it really was the time.
"Arnold, remember when I said you were dense?"
"Yeah," he said.
"But that I was just in a bad mood and I didn't really mean it?"
"Yeah..."
"I take it back. You really are dense." And with that she went and sat back down with Gerald, not giving him another look. So she didn't hate Arnold after all, she hated the way he made Helga love him. She had spent too long watching Helga waste away under his thrall, and he was far too blind to do anything about it. He was such a social samaritan, helping the helpless, no matter what, but he had spent years staring straight through the person who needed his help most of all.
Later that day, when the class were all back in the classroom, eager to get out into the Friday afternoon sun and the weekend, Helga sat at the back of the classroom. Her head was buried in her arms and she felt worse than ever. She prayed the time would go quickly, so she could get home and be by herself. Arnold kept throwing her worried glances, and she wished he wouldn't look at her with those tragically beautiful eyes. But Arnold needed to speak to her, to ask her what Phoebe had meant, but he didn't know how to go about it. Finally, the bell rang and the class rushed out, with Mr. Simmons' final reminder about their stories ringing in their ears.
Arnold caught up with Helga, who had been one of the first people out of the class. "Helga! We need to talk about our story!" Helga stopped in her tracks, dread filling her stomach, making her feel like she might throw up.
"What about it," she said tonelessly.
"Well, we need to get together to finish it this weekend," he said, feeling stupid.
"I tell you what, why don't you let me finish the last chapter? I'll take it round to yours on Sunday and you can read it and see if it's ok." She sounded tired, almost bored. "I want to see how it all turns out."
"Um, ok, Helga," said Arnold, not knowing what it was he was missing. He was left standing alone in the corridor as Helga's sad figure disappeared into the world.