Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold, nor do I own the words from A Midsummer Night's Dream…I did, however write that little spoof off the "To be or not to be" speech by Shakespeare in Hamlet…the speech that Helga gives everyone…oh you'll see.
Another day, another boring-as-hell class with Mr. Broddenham. The infernal teacher was writing some notes about Jane Eyre on the board. Arnold sighed as he flipped the sheet of paper in his notebook to a clean page and continued writing. He noticed that Helga had not once picked up her pencil to take any notes. Why wasn't he surprised?
"Ahhh, yes, Jane Eyre. My personal favorite novel of any other. Even you, Miss Pataki can't argue that it's the greatest novel a Bronte has ever written."
"Oh but I can Mr. B." Helga replied with a smirk. She moved her feet off her desk and sat up straight. "The finest novel written by a Bronte is Wuthering Heights."
"But Wuthering Heights was written after Jane Eyre…with all its similarities, Emily might as well have copied Jane Eyre and sold it for herself."
"There's no way. Just because they grew up in the same setting and created characters like the people they knew doesn't make Emily a plagiarist. Emily created exactly what Charlotte did, but so much more. She created three different points-of-view and two entire generations of love stories mixed in with the most intense love ever recorded onto paper…however, I don't believe anyone could have or will ever love another person as much as Catherine and Heathcliff."
"What is that Miss Pataki?"
"The Brontes depict true love too strongly. No human can ever feel love as strong as their characters do."
"Don't you believe in true love?"
"I did…" she said clearly, and sighed. "But I don't anymore."
It felt as though she were saying this to him and not to their teacher. Arnold suddenly felt a huge wave of guilt cloud his chest. Was he really the reason Helga had given up? Had she truly given up on love, or was it something she guarded dearly with her life? A feeling kept locked up at all times for protection. She was only protecting herself.
The bell rang, and Helga moved out of the classroom quickly, not giving Arnold enough time to catch up to her. She was gone before he knew it.
"Man, Arnold! We're really going to get killed without you on the field." As good as it felt for Arnold to be missed, he couldn't believe he couldn't play his senior year.
"Yeah."
"I still can't believe Eugene is a jinx after all those years."
"He's not the jinx, I guess I am."
"Arnold, Eugene will ALWAYS be a jinx."
"Whatever Gerald." They drove in silence a bit longer. Arnold was still worried about the incident in English earlier that day. He could hardly believe that Helga would…
"Gerald, stop the car!" The breaks squeaked violently and Arnold tried his best to put his good hand out in front of him lest they hit something.
"Arnold, what in the HELL made you yell at me like that." Arnold pointed to the side of the road where Helga Pataki was pulling a tire out of her trunk. It was obvious she had a flat tire.
"We should help her, Gerald." Before his friend could say anything Arnold was all ready halfway out of the car and standing behind Helga G. Pataki. Gerald only shook his head.
"Mm-mm-mm! That boy's got it bad."
Helga looked up from where she was fitting the jack under her car. "What do you want head-boy?"
"We were wondering if you needed any help fixing your tire." Helga scowled and began to crank the jack.
"Look, Arnoldo, savior of the world. I am perfectly capable of fixing a stupid flat tire on my ow—" Of course she spoke too soon as the jack fell loosely from under her car. She cursed loudly.
"I see you're in need of some service, young lady," Gerald said in a suave voice. Helga just glared at him.
"Well, seeing as you're not as much of a gimp as football head, I suppose I can let you fix my car." Gerald shrugged and began to set the jack under the car. "By the way, when are you planning on calling Phoebe again?"
"How about you tell her to call me, okay?" Gerald strained as he pumped the jack to lift the car. Helga scowled and moved to the side to let the man fix her tire. She hardly noticed Arnold move in behind her.
"Is it true, then," he asked her. "Have you really claimed to have given up on love?" Helga didn't look at him. She didn't respond. Thinking she hadn't heard him, he opened his mouth to repeat himself—
"You of all people should know, Arnold." Her voice was soft and…sad. He could almost hear the pieces of her heart shattering all over again.
"Look, Helga, that was a long time ago. Surely you must have—"
"You know, I really don't want to talk about this Arnold." He could detect a slight quiver in her voice. Feeling a bit awkward, he didn't say another word to her while Gerald fixed the tire on her car.
"Your ride is done m'lady." Arnold thought he heard Helga sniffle a bit.
"Thanks Gerald. I appreciate it." She got into her car and drove off, once again leaving Arnold confused. Gerald looked over at Arnold, a look of disbelief across his face.
"Did she just call me by my actual name? My actual name given to me at birth? What is up with her?"
"I don't know," Arnold said absently. "I still can't figure her out."
"Curly! Get your ass down from there!" Thaddeus Gamelthorpe snickered menacingly and slid down from the curtain. Helga sighed and turned her attention to the group at large. "Okay you dweebs, first thing we're going to do is run through lines. Phoebe is giving you each your own script and all your lines will be highlighted. I want you to study these till you think your head will explode, and then study them some more." A few people groaned. "Think of it as practice for that lame English class we call advanced placement."
"Actually, Helga, I find it quite—"
"Do you want me to defend my point or do you want to get on with the script?" Everyone was silent. "That's what I thought. All right, people, from the top."
"Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
Draws on apace. Four happy days bring in
Another moon; but, O, methinks, how slow
This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires,
Like to a stepdame, or a dowager,
Long withering out a young man's revenue."
"Stop, stop," Helga yelled as Park stopped talking. "Do you even know what the hell you just said?"
"W-well, I thought that since this was the first time we're running through our lines I didn't have to pay much attention to—"
"Oh, so you thought you could speak the words, but didn't need to know what the hell you were speaking? Actors need to know every word they are saying, as though they would say the words themselves. Everyone look at one of your lines, does anyone know what the hell Shakespeare is trying to say?" Everyone looked at their script puzzled and quite confused. Helga sighed.
"Fine, then, we won't run our script today. Instead, I want you all to go home and study your lines, write what you think it means next to the words. Don't only know what you are saying, but know what the person you are talking to and interacting with is saying."
"How do we do that?"
"Take your lines and turn it into something that is completely your own…write a spoof off the original lines."
"Why don't you give them an example, Helga," Phoebe suggested. Helga sighed and stood up, walking to the stage and staring into the empty air above their heads.
"To write, or not to write—that is the quandary
Whether 'tis braver to suffer internally
The love of my insufferable youth,
Or to beat them out with fluid words and ink;
To end their suffering. To cry, to weep—
No more—and by weeping to say we open
The chambers of a dam of fear and instead
Strive to requite—the loves love desired to be requite. To cry, to weep—
To weep perchance to sleep. Oh impediments
For in that sleep we weep. To tear a love from eyes and shrug their soul away to find
We weep into the ink of spurn."
Everyone in the auditorium fell into a dead silence. Even Curly was gaping open-mouthed at the display she just showed. This side of her, this Helga, had them shocked and amazed all at once. She was staring directly at him, a small tear sliding down her cheek…she was speaking her words to him. As Arnold let the words slowly sink in, he understood finally.
Her poetry…it was about her suffering over him.
The realization left him dizzy and a bit lightheaded. She was a poet, and he was her muse, a muse that killed her more and more each time he looked her way. Each time he said, "You really hate me, don't you," it killed her even more. How could he possibly be so dense?
"You're all dismissed," she said, rushing from the stage. Phoebe runs after her, dropping her clipboard in the process.
"Helga, do you need—"
"I need to be alone for a bit Phoebes."
"U-uh," Phoebe stuttered to the group. "I suppose we shall reconvene tomorrow to read lines. You're all dismissed." Everyone got up to leave, muttering amongst themselves about the display before them only moments earlier.
Arnold, however, was still staring at the door she left through.
She cried over him. He knew now why she no longer believed in true love. She had her pen and ink to express her loss instead of the one thing she needed most…
Him.
"Helga? It's Phoebe."
"Oh, hey Phoebes." Helga replied tiredly over the phone.
"Look, Helga, I feel the need to apologize for getting you into this mess. If I'd have known Arnold would try out for the play, I never would have suggested that you help out and eventually become director."
"It's okay, Phoebes."
"If you feel the need to drop out at any time, don't worry. I'm sure we could find—"
"Phoebe, I'm not going to back down, and no offense, but I'm really not in the mood to talk right now."
"I understand. I'll let you get your sleep. It seems like you need it." Helga sniffed over the line.
"Yeah, I'll see you in the morning Phoebes."
Helga placed the phone down gingerly in its receiver. She sighed and blew her nose…cursing the fates that allowed her undying love to return.
A/N: Poor Helga…Sorry for not updating sooner…work has taken hold of my life as I make money for college. :) Oh, and just for the record, I adore "Jane Eyre"…I just suspect Helga wouldn't because of all the glamour Charlotte uses. Emily Bronte uses the "raw animalistic" love and I expect Helga to be more that type. Wuthering Heights is also one of my favourite books. :) Love beyond all things tangible, I want to feel that someday.
Oh, and Robin's Clone, I appreciate the thought and understanding…my life reallyis work right now…hence I have no life and no time to write. Thanks anyway. :) I appreciate any and ALL reviews that people take time to leave. :)
