Chapter 5! Chapter 5! Chapter 5! Yes! I'm so "pumped" to post this chapter! Despite the fact that it very well may be my least favorite chapter of the entire story, and it's not half as funny as Chapter 3 or 4. A humongous thank you to BellaMay76, one of my favorite reviewers, Vampire-Athena (spelling?), and any who I've forgotten. I'm not on the internet at the time, but I wish I could thank everyone!!! You guys are the best! Um, This chapter is supposed to be funny, yet slightly more romantic (I try) So read, enjoy, review!!!! Oh yes, and HAPPY 2004!!!!!!!
"Hotel beds are more comfortable farthest away from the phone."
I don't quite remember who said it, it was a quote on a poster in my schools health room (I'm there a lot…frequent nosebleeds) I just thought it applied, in this chapter.
"I always feel guilty after I eat one of these.", Helga said, lifting a large slice of pizza to her face.
"Then why do you eat them?", Phoebe said, carefully removing every sliver of radish from her salad, despite requesting the chef to do so beforehand.
"Because.", Helga replied simply.
"Anyway, what's the plan for tonight? How about we go…dancing!", Phoebe said, excited.
"Um, dancing…how about…no.", Helga said, taking for air from her thin crust pizza.
"Oh c'mon, you used to love to dance.", Phoebe said.
"No one dances ballet in a club!", Helga retorted, remembering walking back and forth to the Community Center every Tuesday and Saturday until seventh grade (Remember? She went to Japan!)
"But you have to come! PLEASE!!", Phoebe begged.
"Fine, I'll go! Happy?", Helga said, still messing idly with the crust of her pizza.
"Almost, Would you be terribly inconvenienced if Gerald were to accompany us?", Phoebe said, rearing back a little. She was ready for the oncoming threat of Hurricane Helga.
"Wonderful! Fantastic! I would love nothing more than to oversee the date of my best friend and her boyfriend! Really Phoebe…chaperoning?", Helga said, reeling back from sarcasm.
"What if you were to have a …a co-chaperone?", Phoebe said, hinting at the obvious little by little.
"Phoebe, I've known you since forever, and I know that right now you're hatching some grand master scheme that will unfold as the day passes.", Helga said.
"I'm not hatching anything! I'm just saying that you probably wouldn't be so lonely if you were to invite Arnold along with us.", Phoebe said, keeping her reputation as the all knowing voice of reason.
"You owe me."
AND SO THE CONVO GOES!!!!
"So uh, …how's the room thing going?", Gerald asked, smiling wickedly.
They'd decided they'd seen enough sites (Two) and sat down at yet another outdoor eatery to rest before returning to the hotel. Most of the time was spent by Gerald complaining about how uneventful his first night in hotel, and joking about Arnold's rather eventful first night in New York.
"I thought we were going to drop the subject", Arnold said, shooting him a glare much resembling that of Helga's.
"Okay, I won't say anything more about it, I swear.", He said, still smiling.
"Yes you will, I know you will, you know you will.", Arnold said sarcastically.
"And you know me too well. So, what's going on tonight?", Gerald said.
"Nothing as of yet…We should go out or something.", Arnold suggested.
"Cool. I'll give Phoebe a call and-"
"Hold on?", Arnold said, interrupting again. "Whenever I "chaperone" you and Phoebe's dates, sorta feel like a third wheel.
"So bring Helga or something.", Gerald said, again stating the obvious.
"Hmmm, let me think about that…no.", Arnold said.
"And why, may I ask not?", Gerald asked, traces of his evil smirk still on his face.
"Because," Arnold began, searching his mind for some sort of justification. "Because if Helga were to come with us, they'd spend all night talking to each other…and not you.", Arnold added.
"Frankly, I don't care if Helga doesn't talk to me, though I can't say the same for you.", he said. "And either way, Phoebe's going to ask her to come and if you don't come, I'll be stuck with the two of them, and if she doesn't come, Phoebe will be stuck with the two of us."
"What's wrong with us?", Arnold asked innocently, knowing very well what was wrong with them.
"Hmm, nothing really. I just figured that she'd rather jot listen to armpit farts and Lakers highlights.", Gerald said taking a moment to laugh at his own immaturity.
"First of all, my friend, I haven't made an armpit fart since the seventh grade. And second, the Lakers don't even have a shot at the Playoffs, so going over their so-called "highlights" would be tedious and redundant.", Arnold said, finally putting his twelfth grade vocabulary to proper use.
"Whatever."
AND SO THE CONVO GOES!!!!
"Oh crap."
She suspected this would happen. She'd tried to do too much shopping in one day. Arnold would have an absolute field day with this one. She finally managed to get all four of her large bags into the bag of the closet, next to her own luggage.
Ready to enjoy a l o n g nap on the huge, luxurious bed that she finally had to herself, she literally dove into the center of the room. Instead of the soft, warm burgundy comforters breaking her fall, she plummeted onto an ocean of hard maroon carpeting. It felt as if the Red Sea had parted right under her, revealing the floor. Looking up she saw two (TWO!) twin sized beds, both with the same burgundy sheets and soft white pillows as the Queen bed she had before. The two beds were identical, separated only by the nightstand that was moved from the left to dead center. Sigh, oh well. She'd lived most of her life on a twin, she could survive this.
Naturally, she figured that since she slept on the right side of the bed the night before, she would be sleeping in the "right" bed. Either way, she was exhausted, and in no time was sprawled out on the bed, asleep in minutes.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Goodnight, Helga!!!~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Phoebe will call about half an hour before we're ready to leave.", Gerald said, exiting the elevator on the second floor, leaving Arnold one floor to think.
"Sure.", he said, the elevators cascading inwards, cutting him off. 'This should be easy.', he thought. 'Hey Helga, wanna go watch Gerald and Phoebe make out while we pretend to have fun?' Yeah, real easy.
In the room, Arnold retreated into the bathroom sanctuary, before hearing the phone ring. He ran to get it, disregarding the brown suede coat hanging neatly in the open closet. He immediately noticed the two (TWO!) beds now making the room look smaller, but reasoned to question it later, and answer the phone.
"Yeah?"
"Hi Arnold, is Helga there?", asked Phoebe politely, knowing very well she was there.
"U, she's a little indisposed at the moment…can I take a message?", He asked, looking down at the sleeping Helga, who was obviously undisturbed by his lack of volume discretion.
"No message. See ya later!"
He sat down on the bed across the room, which he assumed was his, being as Helga had occupied the remaining bed.
'Not a bad idea', he thought, kicking off his shoes and retreating swiftly into sleep.
(A/N: Hey, Hey where ya going? What? Oh you can hold it! Sit down! Yes, you, sit down, we're almost at the good part! It's not gonna be that long, calm down! Yes, you can go as soon as I'm done! Goodness…)
"Wake up…wake up…"
Arnold stirred, not moving much. His brain, and this voice told him to wake up but his body remained deaf.
"WAKE UP!"
Now his entire being agreed to move, sensing immense pain in the near future. "What?"
"Gerald called. He's on his way over."
She'd wakened him up for two sentences? It wasn't as if he was her and needed three and a half lifetimes to get ready to go out.
He slumped over the side of the bed and took advantage of Helga being in the bathroom to change. He replaced his wrinkled cotton flannel for a black button down shirt. He didn't bother to change his pants, no one would care either way.
"What'd Gerald say?", he asked.
"Nothing much. Just that he and Pheebs are on their way.", she said from the bathroom.
"Oh yeah, Phoebe called while you were asleep. She didn't leave a message or anything.", he said, vaguely.
"Ya don't say…", she replied, beyond uninterested.
"I'll see you downstairs.", Arnold said.
"What? Why?", she said. She hadn't even hinted at Phoebe's "plan".
"Oh yeah, Gerald had something planned for him and Phoebe, and we're invited, so dress nicely.", he said, halfway out the door.
"Okay, see youuuaaAAGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!", she screamed, just before something was heard hitting the linoleum floor of the bathroom.
"Helga? Helga what's wrong?", he said, leaving the door open, and rushing into the bathroom. There was a heated curling iron on the floor and a close to tears Helga sitting on the toilet.
"I'm fine, it's nothing." she said, quickly, her eyes focused on the floor.
"What happened?", he said, inching closer.
She lifted her left hand momentarily to reveal a bright red burn mark over the left side of her eyebrow extending down towards her eyelid.
"I'm fine really.", she said when his hand came a little too close for comfort. "Ow, don't touch it!"
"I'm not gonna touch it, hold on.", he replied, unraveling toilet paper and running it under cold water. He knelt down slowly, bringing the wad close to the wound. "This'll burn, but only for a minute."
"It already burns.", she stated, just before it made contact.
After a minute of dabbing at the wound, Arnold took a look at it and spoke.
"As long as you don't put makeup or anything on it, you'll live."
"Thanks.", she said, finally making eye contact, wondering why he stayed at eye level with her, even after he was finished. That is, until…
"Are we interrupting something?"
Both Arnold and Helga jumped up, like two defendants before a heartless jury.
"The door was open, and…"
"Let me get my things.", Helga said, interrupting Phoebe, and brushing passed Arnold and Gerald, blushing furiously.
Gerald threw Arnold a questioning look and Arnold returned with a shrug, both gone unseen by Phoebe and Helga.
"Let's go!", Helga said, with faint excitement heard in her voice.
The club, bar, whatever you chose to call it, was named "The Blue Screen Room*". Outside, there was a bit of a line, being as it was still early. They decided against a cab, since it'd be pretty tight with all four of them in the back seat, and no one wanted to volunteer to sit up front with whoever may have been the driver. The night was cool, not cold and the club wasn't far. Twice, Helga had been close to running into a lamppost staring at the sky.
"Hey, you guys, do they actually look at your birth date?", Gerald said, the youngest of the pack, set to turn 18 in exactly 23 days.
"Don't sweat it, they only look at the year.", Helga said.
"And how, pray tell, do you know this?", Arnold asked skeptically.
"I just do.", Helga stated simply.
Sure enough, they all got in. The name evidently came from the blue light that was cast over everything and everybody inhabiting the club. The place wasn't too crowded in certain areas. Most of it was a dance floor, while the rest was tables and a long bar counter, with at least 5 bartenders running from one end to another. The music, coming from someplace hidden, was loud and lively. The song was a remix of some seventies disco thing, much to the excitement of Gerald, refurbished with too many bells and sirens and artificial noises. Halfway through he mass of bodies, Phoebe and Gerald got "lost".
"Do you want anything?", Helga yelled, her thumb in the direction of the bar.
"I'll have what you having," he said, heading in the other direction to find a table.
"Two sprites, no ice.", Helga said, leaning on the bar counter. The bartender nodded and rushed halfway down the counter.
"Well, Well, what do we have here…"
Helga sighed through her teeth. This was one of the reasons she considered staying at the hotels. Helga remained silent and slid her money across the counter once the drinks came, only for it to be returned by a foreign hand.
"I'll pick up this one.", said the voice, with a British accent.
"Your choice.", Helga said. She might as well have looked at the guy who'd paid for her (and Arnold's) drinks. As soon as she turned to look at him, she had the notion to turn back around twice as quickly. He was…alright looking, from an angle. Where or what the angle was is a different story, but Helga was more than ready to leave.
"Where ya goin'? Just bought ya a drink."
"And I thank you, whoever you are, but I really must-"
"I'm John", he said, holding out his hand and smiling revealing two rows of yellow tinted teeth under a bristly brown mustache. He must have taken this as an invitation to introduce himself.
"Sam.", Helga said, trying to smile politely, shake his hand and distract her gaze from his mouth. She never told a complete stranger her real name, it was too risky. Instead she'd go by Alicia, or Michelle, or whatever name popped into her head. She quickly looked at his free hand, at a brown glass bottle labeled Sam Adams (Hence the name).
"So you, uh…"
Oh goodness, here it comes again. Helga turned back around, no longer feigning interest." I just remembered, I have to bring my friend his drink.", she said, putting extra emphasis on HIS.
"Where ya takin' off to? I got something for ya.", he said, his voice monotonously smooth and snaked together.
"Look, buddy.", Helga said, turning to face him. "If you're thinking of slippin' me a mickey or something, you can just slip it right back, get it?", she said. She went to grab Arnold's drink (she'd already been sipping out of the other one) when John decided to take it upon himself to put his dirty hands wherever he wanted.
Helga turned, balled the Five Avengers into a fist and sent it slicing through the air, meeting John's nose with a crack that scared the bartender, who'd seen his fare share of fist fights.
"What took you so long?", Arnold said, when she walked up to the table and sat down non-chalantly.
"Oh, nothing.", she said, eyeing her reddened fist, mentally adding it to the list of her injuries that night.
"How's your head?", Arnold said, leaning in so she would hear.
"Fine. Thanks again.", she said, lifting her glass a little towards her face.
"Hey you guys!", Gerald said, running over, with Phoebe in tow. "There' was a fight by the bar and evidently some guy got punched out and his nose is huge!", Gerald said, mentally explaining every gossiped detail.
"Is he okay?", Arnold said, with concern in his voice.
"I guess, he keeps saying something about a guy named Sam." Gerald said, now less interested.
"That's probably who did it.", Phoebe said, placing her and Gerald's drinks in the table. Evidently, they'd stopped off at the bar and caught a glimpse of the "victim".
"That's a shame.", Helga said, shaking her head, and smiling.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
That is the END!!!!!! I like this chapter more than I did when I was writing it, but it's still not my favorite. It's much longer than the past few, which makes me happy. Oh well, as long as you enjoyed it! Yes, the comedy was at it's all time low, I tried to add some at the end, but to no avail. Sigh. I have to go back to school in 3 days!!! I'm kinda happy, and yet not. Being in school gives me a smidgen of inspiration, being as there are twice as many hormones in high schools as there are in my fanfiction. I have another fanfic in the works at the moment, but I'm not sure if I can handle two fanfics up at once. Oh well, I should go for it, right? Right. Okay, that's all, REVIEW PLEASE!!!! Bye!