Chapter 10 - Arnold vs. Big Bob

The group of kids marched back to Helga's house buzzing with anticipation. Things like this rarely happened and when they did nobody wanted to miss it. Arnold felt like he had swallowed a cinder block. He really wished the other kids wouldn't be around to witness his confrontation with Helga. This thing could destroy her and they were all treating it like a cheap thrill in their otherwise dull days.

Rhonda was stalking Gerald very closely, dancing around him and assuring him that he should watch Helga like a hawk incase she slipped up. Gerald was being his usual laid back self, reassuring Rhonda with a mere glance in her direction and wave of his hand. Phoebe had bravely decided to stay up front with Arnold, struggling inwardly between begging Arnold not to do this to Helga in front of everyone and her curiosity as to what would transpire.

-

Helga sat in front of her vanity dresser, her pink bath robe tied around her, drying her straggly blonde hair with a towel. She felt completely miserable. The kids all seemed against her and though she would never tell, it had severely dented her confidence just as she was readying herself to finally reveal her secret to Arnold. She also had a nagging feeling in the back of her mind about what Rhonda had been up to, and what she was sure to get up to as the days went by. She sighed and got to her feet, setting her hairbrush down gently. She thought she heard a knock at the door, but her mind was miles away and she couldn't be sure. "Helga!" She jumped, pulled from her thoughts.

"Yes Dad?" she called through her closed door.

"Door!" he dad yelled without futher explanation. She thought to ask but then decided she would no doubt find out when she got downstairs. She clicked open her bedroom door and plodded down her steps, her footfalls muffled by her fluffy pink slippers. The first thing she saw through the frosted glass of the front door was her classmates, all with interested smiles on their faces. Helga considered running upstairs and putting some clothes on, but then she pulled her robe tightly around her and pulled the door fully open. She was not entirely suprised to see that it was Arnold standing on her doorstep, but she was worried by the look on his face. Rhonda's eyes twinkled.

"Um, hey Arnold," she said, suddenly aware of how tired she felt.

"Um, hi Helga. We, er, we need to talk." Helga's insides froze. He knew, she could feel it in her gut. He knew. But how? "You see," Arnold faltered. Helga wasn't really listening. She was racing through the many possibilites in her mind, wondering what she had done, where it was she had slipped up. She noticed Phoebe looking guiltily at her feet, and her eyes narrowed. "Actually, can I come in?" Arnold asked.

"No!" Rhonda shouted. She looked outraged. "That's not fair! You can't do it like that! What if she throws things? We won't be able to see!"

"I don't care Rhonda, this has nothing to do with anyone else," Arnold said smoothly. He was starting to get very annoyed with Rhonda's behaviour towards Helga lately, he couldn't understand why she was being so mean.

"Gerald!" Rhonda shrieked, changing her attack, "tell him he can't do that!" Gerald looked at Arnold, his best friend, standing on the stoop of Helga G. Pataki's house and begging for five minutes alone with her. Gerald sensed danger at every turn, but then he looked at Helga. The usual fury was still present in her eyes, but did he also see something else? A sort of peace? Maybe it was the calm before the storm. Nevertheless, Gerald gave Rhonda a short nod and stepped back.

"He goes in alone Rhonda, this is too major for a bet," he warned. Rhonda's mind snapped. This was her plan to make Helga blow, and now she was being told it wasn't allowed. Oh no, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was allowed to do anything she wanted.

"You never said there were rules!" she yelled at him, pressing her face up close to his. "If I had known that I wouldn't have bothered-" Rhonda caught herself and quietly trailed off. Gerald raised an eyebrow.

"You would never..?" he pushed, everything coming together in his mind. Rhonda looked flustered.

"It's my job to... anger her, isn't it?" Rhonda said quickly. Everyone turned around to face them.

"So, you made it all up then?" Gerald asked.

"Of course," Rhonda said, examining her fingernails.

"And Helga doesn't really love Arnold?"

"Are you mad!" Rhonda said with a laugh. "Helga? Care about anyone but herself? As if!" Rhonda howled, tears forming in her eyes. Phoebe let out a small sigh of relief.

"Well, I suppose if she doesn't really love him it's alright for us to watch how it all goes down," Gerrald said after a moments thought. "Arnold-" he began, but when he looked up he saw that Helga's door was closed and Arnold was gone.

-

Helga's heart was pounding against her chest like a hammer. As she looked at Arnold sitting on the other end of her couch examining her living room, she suddenly wished she had put something else on when she had first thought of it. She pulled her robe tightly around her, but when she saw Arnold finally look back at her she felt horribly exposed.

"Look foo- Arnold," she corrected, remembering the bet, "I'm going to go and get dressed, you wait here for a second." She got to her feet and left the living room, closing the front door behind her. Arnold put his hands on his knees and looked at the walls. You could barely see the paper for the family photographs that lined it. He stood up and walked over to have a closer look, a faint smile on his lips. Memories had always been important to Arnold, he liked photos like this that showed how proud the parents were of their kids. Olga, graduating from high school, Valedictorian of course. Olga setting off for university, winning a talent contest in pre school, her first piano recital. And shot after shot of Olga and her parents at the park, the zoo, museums, in the house.

He didn't really notice there were none of Helga.

There were shots of Bob and Miriam when they were younger, their wedding photo and at their prom. "That was our first date," came a gruff voice behind him. He looked around. "Alfie, right?"

"Um, no Mr. Pataki, it's Arnold," he said, feeling the familiar sentence creep up his throat. "Olga sure is very good at a lot of things, isn't she?"

"You better believe it boy. There's nothing that girl can't do. Did you know she was reading Shakespeare by the time she was five? And when she was four, she wrote her first piece of music. And last year, she..."

Upstairs in her room, Helga frowned as she heard her father telling Arnold about how great OIga was, certain that Arnold was drinking in every word. She brushed her hair up into it's usual pigtails and tied on her pink bow. She pulled a fresh pair of socks from her drawer and started to put them on without sitting down. The first one slipped over her foot no problem, but her big toe got caught on the elastic of the second and it wasn't long before she lost her balance and went crashing to the floor.

Downstairs, both Arnold and Bob looked at the ceiling as the crash resounded downstairs. Something clicked in Arnold's mind. He had nearly forgotten that Helga was there at all, and that this was her house. There were no signs to show it. It chilled him in his stomach to think that when you were in this house, Helga just disappeared from your mind, as if she didn't exist at all. Bob rolled his eyes. "That girl is so clumsy," he said, frowning. "Not like Olga. Olga was the star in the local ballet-"

"Where are all the photo's of Helga Mr. Pataki?" Arnold said, butting in.

"What?" Bob said, pulled from his gushing rant about his favourite daughter."Oh, they're up there somewhere," he said, waving his hand at the wall. Arnold stepped closer and inspected them all. He squinted as he saw picture after picture with Olga in, but he couldn't see a spot of pink at all.

"I don't see her Mr. Pataki," Arnold said, turning around. Bob sighed and got to his feet.

"She's in that one, the silver one in the corner," he said, walking out of the room, apparently bored with the conversation now it had turned away from his favourite subject. Arnold crouched down to have a look at the picture. It was of Bob, Miriam and Olga standing outside of their house smiling, and it looked fairly recent. Olga was smiling widely, standing inbetween her parents. Bob was beaming as though he had never been prouder, his arm over Olga's shoulder. Miriam had a smile on her face and was holding a toy horse. Arnold searched, but he still couldn't see Helga.

Tucked into the corner of the frame was a passport photo of Olga looking fabulous. Gently, Arnold plucked it from the frame. Helga was underneath it, making a vain attempt to smile despite being pushed to the edge of the photograph. Arnold could tell that the smile was utterly fake, but he was suprised that she was trying. All she wanted was to belong. Suddenly the house was a horrible place to him, cold and unfriendly. He shivered and sat back down. He heard the living room door click shut behind him.

"Better," Helga muttered, smoothing down her pink dress. "So what's up bucko?" She was desperate to neither lose the bet nor show an ounce of over-kindness to Arnod, so she was trying to keep everything short and sweet. Arnold could just say what he'd come to say and get out.

"I, er, I spoke to Rhonda today." Helga looked out of her living room window and saw that the sunlight was blocked by the faces of her peers. She crossed the room and pulled the curtains shut.

"Oh yeah? Why couldn't you say that in front of them?" she asked, jabbing her finger towards the street.

"I wasn't finished," Arnold replied in a tone that said 'and you know it'. "She, er, she told me something about you..."

"Oh yeah, and what does the Rhondaloid know about me?" she spat, and then clapped her hand to her mouth. Arnold lowered his eyelids and smiled.

"I'm not a spy, I won't say a word." Helga expressed her thanks by folding her arms across her chest. "So, yeah, anyway, I mean, she said something about you and me..." Helga felt herself beginning to sweat with anxiety. On the few occasions when Arnold had set foot in her house, she had been light-headed and giddy, just cherishing the precious few moments before she said something horrible and he left, offended. But now he had something to say, the conversation with Arnold she had been both wanting and dreading, and she couldn't insult her way out of it. She wasn't ready, not yet. She had to work her way around it.

"Oh yeah? Is it that I want to marry you and have lots of little football headed babies, honeymooning in Gay Paris with Champagne on the Seine? She's a card that girl, she's been telling me the same things about you. She's just stirring trouble, trying to make me lose this bet. Now, I know we're not the best of friends but I know you're not fool enough to fall for her manipulative ways, and I know I'm not. Me and you? Ha!" All of this came out as a chattering stream, but Helga was certain that Arnold caught her drift. Things were falling into place in his mind, and she could see him, sitting on her sofa and working things out. It struck Helga as terrible that the person she cared the most about was the one she lied to most often.

"So Rhonda was just... making it up?" Arnold said quietly.

"Not disappointed, are ya?" Helga said sarcastically, a happy feeling expanding inside her, full of hope and longing.

"No," said Arnold, shattering Helga and not noticing, "well sort of, in Rhonda."

"Well, I'm not letting it get to me and neither should-"

"OLGA!" Helga rolled her eyes.

"It's Helga dad!" she yelled.

"Whatever, come here and do the dishes, it's your turn!"

"It's always my turn," Helga muttered as she walked towards the kitchen, but she went anyway. Arnold was a little shocked. He knew how headstrong Helga was, he expected her to protest, even just a little, but instead she just went quietly with her head bowed and her shoulders slumped. "You can let yourself out, right Arnold?" she asked.

"Um, actually, do you want a hand?" he asked galantly. He swore he saw her smile.

"Sure, you know, if you don't have to report back." Arnold shook his head and walked with her into the kitchen.They were both met with a large pile of dirty dishes, encrusted with dried-on filth. "Oh yeah, Dad had the boys round last night for poker... those boys sure do like their nachos."

"With chilli-cheese dip," Arnold said, frowning as he unstuck a spoon from a large serving plate with some force. Helga ran the water in the sink bowl while Arnold searched around for a fresh drying cloth.

"Try the drawer over the washer," Helga said, adding washing liquid to the water and watching it foam. "You know, you really don't have to help Arnold."

"I want to help," Arnold said strongly. Helga plunged her hands into the hot water and began trying to remove some of the crust from the dishes. Arnold stood by her side, waiting for her to hand him the clean plates for him to dry and put away. Bob strode in to the kitchen again with another load of dirty dishes in his arms.

"Here, clean these too while you're at it," he said, dumping them into the sink and splashing Helga's clean hair with the filthy water. She closed her eyes as it trickled down her forehead, and Arnold felt his chest tighten with anger. He waited until he was sure Bob was out of the room before turning to Helga.

"Why don't you say something to him Helga?" he said, handing her the cloth so she could dry her face.

"I already did. It doesn't change anything. I'm not going to waste my breath anymore." She turned back to the sink. "It's best just do what he wants quickly and get it- OUCH!"

"Helga, what's wrong?" Arnold asked worridly, rushing to her side. She pulled a wet hand out of the water. A large cut ran down the side of thumb to the back of her hand, tinging the water a rusty red.

"Must be a bread knife in there or something," Helga said, pulling her hand close to her face to inspect the cut. It was deep, so deep she could tell right there and then that she was going to need stitches. Arnold winced; he had never been that good at handling blood.

"Want me to get your Dad?" he asked. Helga was all for saying 'no', but she knew her father was going to have to drive her to hospital to fix this.

"Suppose," she said, holding her hand above the sink and trying not to bleed everywhere. Arnold ran into the living room where Bob was nicely settled in an arm chair, watching the TV blare back at him.

"Mr. Pataki, come quick! Helga's cut herself and she's really hurt!" he said, immediately turning back to the kitchen and expecting Bob to follow. When he did not, however, Arnold stopped and looked at him. "Did you hear me Mr. Pataki? Helga's cut her hand open!"

"Put a band aid on it, it'll be fine," he said, raising the remote to turn the volume up even more. Arnold felt like screaming at him.

"No, Mr. Pataki, she has to go to hospital and have it sewn up. She's really hurt!" Bob shifted in his chair.

"Won't it wait until after The Wheel?" he whined.

"No, Mr. Pataki," said Arnold, trying to calm his voice. Bob pushed himself to his feet.

"Fine, you get the girl and I'll go get the car from the garage." Arnold watched as Bob slowly grabbed his keys and left through the front door, muttering something about 'more expense'. Arnold walked back into the kitchen where he saw Helga leaning heavily against the counter and looking very pale. He rushed to her side and put his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

"Helga are you ok?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm fine Arnold, just a little woozy from the blood..." she whispered, and then promptly fainted into his arms. Arnold caught her just in time and managed to find a way to hold both her and the drying cloth she had been gripping around her hand. He did not know, however, how he would get her to the car.

"Um, Mr. Pataki?" he called. "Mrs. Pataki?" There was no answer. He decided it would be better to try and wake Helga up. He pulled her over to the sink and ran the cold water, splashing her face a little.

"Hey, cut that out," she mumbled, waving her free hand in front of her face.

"Helga, wake up! We've got to get you outside," Arnold urged. Helga seemed to regain a little focus.

"Huh? Oh, the cut..." Upon remembering that she was hurt she looked as though she might pass out again, but she managed to shakily stay on her feet, Arnold draping one of her arms over his shoulders and helping her out of the kitchen. She stumbled through the living room with Arnold's assistance and with some difficulty he managed to open the door and get her down the front steps. Bob was already sitting in the car, looking impatient and beeping his horn noisily. Arnold was too busy strapping Helga in the back seat to snap at him, which was lucky becuase he was growing less and less fond of Helga's father with each second that passed. He climbed into the car beside Helga and buckled his seat belt.

"Come on, get a move on. If I'm lucky I can catch the repeat later," he said, starting the engine and pulling away from the kerb. Arnold ignored him, all of his attention on Helga. The cloth was now saturated in blood, it was starting to drip onto her pink dress, and she had her head slumped on the back seat with her eyes closed. Arnold didn't think she had fainted because she kept making moaning sounds, but he knew she was pretty out of it. The car came to a screeching halt at a red light. Bob turned around in his seat.

"She alright?" he asked. Arnold was relieved that he showed some concern for his daughter.

"Yeah, I don't think it's as bad as it looks, and it's only the sight of blood making her light-headed," Arnold replied reassuringly.

"Good, in that case don't you dare let her bleed on my leather upholstry or there'll be hell to pay," he growled, turning back to face front. Arnold scowled at the back of his head. He looked over at Helga, and saw that there was a thin trickle of blood running onto the back seat, and he leaned over her to wipe it off with the bottom of his shirt.

"Hey Arnoldo-o, don't go adding anymore fuel to Rhonda's fire," Helga said dreamily. Arnold looked up at her.

"Helga, you're awake... sort of."

"Yeah, are we, er, going to the hospital?"

"Yeah."

"In Bob's car?"

"Yep." Helga tried to shift her wounded hand onto her leg. "What are you doing?" Arold said in a fretful manner. "You'll aggrevate it if you keep shifting it around."

"I just don't want to bleed on Bob's seats," she said, turning her head to look out the window. The car sped through the streets of the city toward Hillwood General, breaking several laws as it did so. Bob skidded into the car park, screaming into a disabled space at an odd angle. He switched the engine off and got out of the car.

"Come on," he pushed as Arnold helped Helga out. He went ahead four paces as he rushed to the reception of the emergency room, leaving Arnold to struggle with Helga. While Bob shouted at the receptionist to get his daughter to the front of the queue, (who luckily mistook his impatientness for concern), Arnold settled Helga in a chair, which was easier than he thought it would be as she was starting to wake up now.

"Thanks Arnold," she said sweetly, looking around the emergency room. An oldish looking man sitting across from her had a deep gash on his forehead but appeared to be asleep, and a woman was struggling to keep her two twins seated, one of whom had bubbles coming out of his mouth. She smiled as the other twin became tranfixed by his brothers antics, and then she closed her eyes.

"Olga!" her Dad yelled, and she snapped her eyes back open again. "When's your birthday?" he shouted, holding a pen over a form on the desk and looking confused. Arnold felt shocked, first by the fact that Mr. Pataki didn't know his own child's brithday, and secondly by the uncaring tone in which Helga had answered.

"Oh, he always forgets," Helga said dismissively with a wave of her good hand.

"I suppose you can do when put on the spot, but he never forgets it on the actual day, right?" he said with a smile, but Helga didn't answer. Arnold stared in shock at Helga's father as he came and sat down.

"What you doing boy, catching flies?" he growled, before picking up a fishing magazine and burying his head in it. Arnold felt his eye twitch in rage, but he turned his attention back to Helga.

"You want a soda?" he asked. Helga nodded, and then closed her eyes again. Arnold wandered up the corridor to the vending machine. He didn't know why, but he had never really liked hospitals. They gave him the creeps, even though he'd never been in one in his entire life. Not as a patient anyway. He pressed the button for two cokes and went to sit back down. He paused for a moment when he noticed Helga and her father were talking to each other. He didn't want to interrupt. Helga held up her hand in her father's direction and he looked at it. Arnold smiled; at last he was acting more like a father should. He walked over to give Helga her soda before she noticed him just standing there, and he could have sworn he heard her say, 'sorry Dad, I know I'm clumsy, I won't do it again.'

He sat down inbetween them again and handed Helga her soda. "We're gonna be here hours," Bob muttered to himself.

-

When they were finally called some time later, all three of them had fallen asleep, Arnold slumped on Helga's shoulder and feeling guilty about it when he opened his eyes. "Olga Pataki?" a voice called. Helga got to her feet, as did Arnold while rolling his eyes, but Bob kept his eyes shut, the magazine draped over his face.

"Oh, Bob doesn't like needles," Helga said as they both followed the nurse into a cubicle so Helga could be treated. She felt cold, lying to Arnold again. Helga sat on the end of a bed while the nurse went to fetch some more cloths for her hand, and they waited for the doctor. "Arnold, look. Um, thanks for coming. You really didn't have to, I know we're not..." she didn't finish her sentence. "And I'm sorry about Bob, he just gets grumpy when he's missing The Wheel."

"Helga, I wanted to come. I never did do anything to thank you for what you did for the neighbourhood." Helga bit her lip. "And besides, you're really hurt, you need someone around to take care of you."

"I have Bob." Arnold snorted, before immediately mentally kicking himself. He might not agree with the man's ways, but Bob Pataki was Helga's father, and he couldn't really stand in front of Helga and insult him.

"Sorry, Helga, it's just... he doesn't seem to care that much. I don't understand."

"If I was really hurt I'm sure he'd care, but I'm not really, so he sees me as just getting in the way. It's always been this way Arnold, you get used to it."

"You shouldn't have to," Arnold said quietly as the doctor came in.

"Hello there Olga, that's quite a nasty cut you have there. I think it's going to need some stitches, and you'll have to come back in a few weeks to have them taken out again. One thing though, we don't seem to be able to find your medical record, any reason for that?" The doctor was a friendly looking young man, who just made you feel a bit better by being in the room. Helga smiled at him, and Arnold swore he saw her flutter her eyelashes a little bit. In reality he couldn't have been further from the truth, Helga had never noticed anyone but him, but he didn't know that. Helga was just glad to see a caring adult that day.

"It's because my name isn't Olga, it's Helga. Olga's my big sister," Helga said, a little downcast.

"Olga Pataki! Of course!" he said, lights coming on all over his mind. "She did some charity work here last summer, very good she was too." Helga felt the familiar feeling of being cast into her sister's shadow, and she looked down at her knees. "I know how you feel," the doctor said. "I have an over-achieving big sister too." He winked at Helga, who positively beamed at him. "Right then Helga, let me just go and tell the nurse of the mistake, and then I'll be right back to patch you up."

Helga sat happily on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs back and forth, smiling like a mad woman. "You're probably the only happy person in here," Arnold commented with a laugh.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Helga said, completely forgetting herself. "Today hasn't been to bad at all. Ok, so I was sick at school and I had that showdown with Rhonda and everyone else, but now I have a nice doctor taking caring of me who understands how much it bites to have a sister like Olga, the sun's making an appearence and you're here-" Whoops. "I mean, you're here to distract Big Bob away from me," she finished in a panicky voice. The doctor came back in.

"Ok, let's get started. Let me have a look at that hand of yours." Helga unwrapped it from the cloth. The cut was much deeper than Arnold had first thought, and very messy. Helga was smiling at it.

"It's a doozy, ain't it doc?" she said, grinning.

"It sure is young lady," he said, getting a torch from his pocket and shining it on the cut to look for anything that might have gotten trapped in there. "Um..."

"Arnold," Arnold said when he noticed the doctor was addressing him.

"Arnold, this is going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better, you can step outside and wait for a second if you want."

"Do you mind Helga? I feel a little..." Arnold blanched.

"Be my guest you little wimp," Helga said, but her eyes shone with fondness. Helga watched as Arnold brushed through the curtain and went to sit with Mr. Pataki.

"Did you see the nurse who brought you in here?" the doctor asked as he started to stich up Helga's cut. She didn't even wince.

"Blonde chick with the pretty eyes?" Helga asked.

"Yep. I've been trying to ask her out for two years," he said as he pulled the thread tight. "Just can't seem to do it."

"Why not?" Helga asked sympathetically.

"What if she says no?" he said, looking up for a second before returning to Helga's hand.

"Then don't ask her out, just tell her how you feel. She can't say yes or no to that, can she?" Helga said, feeling like the world's biggest hypocrite.

"Not that easy though, is it Helga?" the doctor said as he tied off her stitches. He smiled at her.

"How did you...?" she asked, amazed.

"Not being big-headed, but you're the first nine year old girl I've ever treated who didn't make eyes at me. You must have them on a different prize," he said jabbing his thumb to the direction of the waiting room.

"Yeah, well, all that doesn't matter now, Bob's shipping us all overseas to live," Helga sighed.

"You going to tell him before you go?" the doctor asked, and Helga just shrugged. "Right, well, you're all done. On your way out make sure you stop at the reception desk to book an appointment in three weeks. Take care Helga," he said, helping her down from the bed.

"Thanks Doc," she said, smiling as she left.

-

"Is the girl going to be long?" Bob asked as Arnold sat back down.

"Maybe, they couldn't find her medical records," Arnold answered, avoiding Bob's gaze.

"Why the hell not?" Bob shouted.

"Because you gave them the wrong name. Her name is Helga, H-E-L-G-A," Arnold said pointedly.

"Oh," Bob grunted, not caring an ounce. Minutes of silence flew between them, Bob still reading his magazine and Arnold figeting in his chair, getting angrier by the second. Bob began to tap his foot rhythmically on the floor, which just annoyed Arnold further. He squirmed in his chair.

"Ants in your pants boy?" Bob snarled. Arnold ignored him. "Come on Olga, we're missing the wheel," he whined. Arnold snapped. He jumped to his feet and rounded on Big Bob.

"HELGA! HER NAME IS HELGA! If you weren't so obsessed with your other perfect daughter you might notice how remarkable Helga is too! But you're not, YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT OLGA, BEEPERS AND YOURSELF!" he yelled, panting, just as Helga came round the corner. She had heard the last few words of Arnold's rant as she was making her appointment. Bob got to his feet and grabbed her cut hand, making her wince and flooding her eyes with tears.

"Ow, Dad watch it," she pleaded, trying to pull her hand away, but Bob's attention was caught on Arnold.

"Come on Olga, we're going!" he shouted very loudly, making everyone look at him.

"But Dad, what about Arnold?" Helga asked as she was dragged past him.

"He can get the bus! And I never want to see you hanging around with that brat again!" He dragged Helga out through the automatic doors, leaving Arnold looking very stunned in the busy emergency room. He shook his head to clear it and then strode out to the bust stop, his rage still fierce and blood pounding in his ears.

-

A/N: I know this one's been a long time coming considering how fast I usually churn them out, but reality demanded I participate in it for a little while. Hopefully it's a nice long one to make up for it, and the next update will be up soon (I hope!) - Sky.