CHAPTER 5 - The Bet

At lunch time Helga found that she had quite a crowd gathering around her. It reminded her very strongly of her dream; she expected Big Bob to come rolling up any second. Everyone seemed to have accepted her apology and now they were eager to know about her move to England. "I sure am gonna miss ya Helga," Stinky said. He still had fond memories of the time he had pretended to be her boyfriend.

"You know, I hear the London fashion scene is getting a lot of attention this season," Rhonda gushed. "You might actually be fashionable for a while Helga." Rhonda obviously thought she was giving her a compliment, but Helga met this comment with her trademark scowl. "What?" Rhonda exclaimed, genuinely bemused. Helga noticed Arnold wasnt in the crowd.

Eventually her classmates disbanded, having had her news settle into them and then having come to the conclusion that it wasn't that big a deal. Helga and Phoebe finally sat down to lunch, both a little dispondant. "Only two months left Pheebs, only two months until everyone forgets my name." Helga felt terrible.

"I won't forget it Helga, I'll write you all the time," Phoebe said defiantly, but Helga hadn't meant everyone. She had meant Arnold.

"Aw I know Pheebs, and I'm definitely gonna write you back, just wish I wasn't gonna be so easily erased, you know?" Phoebe did know. She often felt like she was disappearing, but sometimes her academic brilliance or something else would get her noticed and people would remember she was there again. It may have been a strange arrangement, but it suited Phoebe right down to the ground. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to have to rip up her roots and start all over again. Suddenly a loud crash drew their attention to the other side of the cafeteria.

"No way Rhonda, I was sitting here first," Harold was yelling. Beside him Rhonda was looking stunned as gooey brown gravy ran slowly down the front of her sweater and dripped onto her shoes.

"Harold," she said in a smooth, dangerous voice, "you are going to be in so much trouble when my father sees what you've done to my sweater."

"Well you shouldn't have got in my way, it was my table!" Harold protested. "Tell her Sid!" Sid looked taken aback, as though not expecting to be drawn into the argument.

"Er, well, um," Sid flapped. "Yeah, uh, it was, um, Harold's table Rhonda," he said nervously. Rhonda gasped.

"Nadine!" she yelled at her best friend. "Will you back me up here? Tell these two morons it's our table!"

"Nu uh!" Harold exclaimed. "Stinky, you saw what happened..." The argument continued along this vein for some time until, inevitabley...

"Phoebe!"

"Y-yes, Rhonda?" Phoebe squeaked in a tiny voice.

"It was our table, right?" Rhonda barked.

"Um, well, to be perfectly honest Rhonda I didn't-"

"It was our table!"

"I d-didn't see y-you sitting there-"

"Are you calling me a liar?" Rhonda asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, no Rhonda, I only meant that I-I never witnessed-"

"Because if you are calling me a liar Phoebe Hyerdahl, you'll find that Harold isn't the only one here who'll be getting in trouble with-" but now it was Rhonda's turn to get cut off.

"That's it Princess, you shut your trap right now! Phoebe didn't do anything." Helga had gotten to her feet.

"Nobody asked you Helga," Rhonda said dismissively. Helga growled. "So back me up here Phoebe." Phoebe didn't know what to do. She had been too tied up in the conversation with Helga to see what happened, but she didn't want Rhonda to be angry with her. But then, she didn't want Harold to be angry with her either.

"I, er..." she squeaked. Rhonda shot her a filthy look and then turned back around to face Nadine. "No wonder everyone ignores her," she said quietly, but still loud enough for everyone to hear. Phoebe looked on the verge of tears.

"Apologise!" Helga bellowed, grabbing Rhonda by her gravy-soaked shirt and slamming her up against the wall. Rhonda blinked.

"Unhand me, you freak!" she screamed, clearly not frightened of Helga at all. Helga raised her fist, trying to intimidate her. At that moment, the cafeteria door swung open and Arnold entered. When he noticed the scene before him he felt obligated to step in.

"Helga, let go of Rhonda before you get in trouble," he urged.

"Oh she's already in trouble," Rhonda spat as Helga let her go. Helga rounded on Arnold, wiping her dirty hands on her dress.

"Not that it's any of your business, football head, but Rhondaloid here was starting on Pheebs. I was just stepping in and righting a wrong. You know, that thing you always do."

"Really?" said Arnold, raising an eyebrow and looking totally disbelieving.

"She was!" Helga said indignantly. "Pheebs, tell-" but she stopped when she had a familiar sense of deja vu.

"Are you going to be like this in England too?" Arnold inquired, looking angry. His rage toward Helga hadn't been completely sated by her public apology, and she only had to put one toe over the line to set him to boiling point again. Helga's mouth hung open.

"Er, I, well," she began.

"You're always going to be the same old Helga G. Pataki, the girl who's had to name her fists, she uses them so much! Always scowling and mean, not caring about anyone else but yourself! I feel sorry for England Helga, I really do." The crowd cheered as Arnold finished his speech. Helga wanted to defend herself, but she didn't know where to begin. Thankfully for her, Phoebe hadn't forgotten what Helga had just done for her.

"That's not really true Arnold," she said nervously and deep down feeling like a bit of a liar, "Helga can be very nice at times. Like just then, when she was defending me against-" Rhonda shot her a look, "er, when she was defending me."

"Well, I've never seen it," Sid snorted.

"Me either," Harold said. Suddenly the whole class were swapping stories of all the times Helga had been mean to them. Helga knew that she had a nice side somewhere amongst her ways, the only problem was that she didn't show it to many people. But Arnold had seen it, she knew he had, so why was he behaving like this? Because you went too far, a little voice said in the back of her head. She sighed.

"I bet Helga couldn't be nice if her life depended on it," Eugene said, painfully remembering the last wedgie Helga had given him.

"Watch it, jinx," Helga snarled, raising her fist.

"Point proven," Gerald said in his cool voice. "But you know what Eugene, I think you just might be on to something." Eugene looked startled, he'd never been on the ball in his life.

"I am?"

"Helga G. Pataki, do you accept Eugene Horrowitz's bet? Can you be nice for the remainder of your time in Hillwood?"

"What?" she said, her eyes narrowing to slits.

"Do you accept the bet? Being nice for the next two months? That means no bullying, no pushing, no shoving, no name calling," Gerald's eyes flicked to Arnold, "no scowling, no shouting and added to that you must also be helpful, kind and curteous to your fellow students. Will you accept the challenge?" Gerald was standing on a chair now, sweeping his arms around the crowd like some kind of ring master. Helga looked at Arnold, who despite looking a lot more relaxed didn't seem to have noticed that his left hand was still curled into a fist.

"If I do, what happens if I lose?" she asked suspiciously.

"Gravy dunked at your last supper," Rhonda said immediately, pointing at her shirt. "And then a swirly to clean you off." Her eyes glinted with mischeviousness, she obviously didn't think Helga could do it. Helga's temper flared.

"And if I win?" she said determindly. The class thought about it.

"A place on the PS118 wall of fame," Sid said finally. The class gasped.

"The what?" Sheena asked, looking at Curly and Eugene who just shrugged.

"The PS118 wall of fame, the place where some of the students who leave Hillwood before graduation are commemerated for all eternity, provided they do something of noteable value," Sid said mysteriously. "I can't believe you've never seen it, it's the one outside the boy's toilets. Tell them the story Gerald." Gerald straightened himself up on his chair. He cleared his throat.

"A long time ago, in these very halls, there was a kid named Jimmy K. Jimmy K was a quiet kid, never spoke out of turn, never raised his hand in class, a real wallflower. One day he comes home from school and his Mom tells him they're moving to Ohio. Jimmy K snapped. He couldn't face life without his sidekick, Little Red. Little Red was one of the strangest kids PS118 ever saw, second only to Curly. He used to collect gum from under the tables," Helga shifted uncomfortably, but no one seemed to notice, "cut his own trademark ginger hair into patches and ate peanut butter and paste sandwiches for lunch. When Little Red found out Jimmy K was leaving, he lost it. Absolutely went crazy. First, he went on a crayon rampage, drawing on the walls, the tables, everything. Then he broke into the Principal's office and played Dino Spumoni over the intercom for three hours. And finally, he flooded the boy's toilets next to the sixth grade classroom.

"When the time came for someone to take the rap, Little Red was ready to take his lumps. But at the last minute Jimmy K stepped in and took the heat for the whole thing. He figured that seeing as he was going away, he couldn't get in too much trouble. Little Red created the PS118 wall of fame on the day that Jimmy K left, and from then on every kid who did something noble, or huge, or just plain stupid before they left has been commemerated on that wall. Stewie Brown, who stole his teacher's wig, Laura Jenkins, who beat up the sixth grade bully trying to steal her best friend's lunch money, and of course, Binky Maloy, responsible for the World War Three Hoax of '86. To get on the wall is a great honour, and Helga, we're offering it to you."

Helga was completely taken with the idea. She would be remembered forever, and her legend would be passed down through the generations. But for being nice? Not much of an historical moment. It was, she decided eventually, better than nothing.

"You're on, Tall Hair Boy." Everyone frowned at her. She blushed. "Starting Monday, of course."