A/N: yzibella – You raised a very good point in your last review. I guess what I should have pointed out is that Helga's 'nice' ways are only restricted to her classmates, and if being nice to them means threatening to beat up someone else then so be it. Or to look at it a different way – I made a bit of a cock up. Thanks for pointing it out yzibella and I hope this note has cleared things up.

Also I would like to take this opportunity to thank every one who has read and reviewed this story; you've all been very helpful and supportive. It's always easier to write knowing that people actually want to read your works! So thanks again and here's chapter 13! Enjoy! –Sky.

Chapter 13 – Espionage Of Our Own

Small arguments broke out through the fourth grade class all afternoon, but surprisingly neither Helga nor Rhonda participated in any of them. Helga thought about snatching the tape from Rhonda before the afternoon was out and nipping this little problem in the bud, but she knew that Rhonda had it safely in her locker, and even if Helga could sneak out of class she could never get into that fortress.

Rhonda was not stupid enough to let her guard down for a second. She knew she was firmly in a place to gloat about how she had really done a number on Helga, but while the tape was still in her possession and not Big Bob's nothing was certain. There was also the nagging torment in the back of her mind that Curly would not be going straight from school to the Pataki household. He had a ballet class that evening and it was not one he was willing to miss, so the tape would be stored in his gym bag for the duration. Rhonda absolutely refused to deliver the tape herself. She told Curly it was because she was above such matters, but in actual truth she was just terrified of what might happen to her if she ran into Helga while she was there. She had no qualms about Curly getting his face dented in though.

The bell rang and the class all got to their feet, the argument forgotten for the sake of getting out of school. The Jolly Olly Man did an excellent trade that afternoon, the sun was working overtime, and suddenly everyone decided it was too warm to be mad at each other and decided that they would rather go down to the docks to laze about for the evening. Rhonda went too, her confidence in Curly was shaky at best but then there was a reason she got other people to do her dirty work.

"Ok Curly, straight after the lesson you go to her house, ok?" she ordered, slipping the tape into his bag and glancing around to check no one was watching. Curly nodded and Rhonda joined the rest of the group on their way to the docks.

Helga, who had spent her life stalking and hiding from people knew exactly how to hide from Rhonda, who was terrible at trying to be secretive. Rhonda was so used to being the centre of attention that she couldn't even shy away from the spotlight when she was trying to be sneaky. She didn't notice Helga and Arnold waiting around the corner, watching her meeting with Curly, listening intently to what was being said. Helga furrowed her brow.

"What lesson?" she hissed at Arnold. Arnold knew that Curly took ballet but he had promised not to tell. He shrugged.

"Ballet." Obviously all this hanging around with Helga was rubbing off on him. She snorted.

"That freak show does ballet?" She couldn't keep the giggles out of her voice.

"Don't we have something more important to attend to?" Arnold reminded her.

"Right," she whispered.

There was only one place in Hillwood where a person could go to attend a ballet lesson. Madame Bouvier's Ballet School for Talented Girls and Boys. Arnold was surprised that Helga seemed to know exactly where she was going, and after receiving a fierce scowl from her she revealed that she had been there many times in her younger years to watch Olga's dance recitals.

"I'll have you know, Arnold-o, that I can be quite ladylike," she said, sneering and brandishing her fist in a very unladylike manner.

"Absolutely," Arnold agreed hastily.

They hid behind a low wall across the street, watching the entrance to the large grey building and waiting for Curly to show up. A large green car not unlike Phil's Packard pulled up to the front of the building and Curly climbed out, already in his leotard and tights, wearing a too large jacket to try and hide it from view.

"Ok, here's the deal. We'll get the bag when Curly is in his lesson. That's the only time he won't be around it," Helga whispered to Arnold as they crossed the road and followed Curly inside.

"Where will his bag be when he's in the lesson?" Arnold asked as they followed Curly down the hall, keeping to the shadows. He disappeared through a mirrored door and they waited for a second before pushing it open.

"I look psychic to you, football head?" Helga hissed as they peeked inside. Arnold's question was answered at once though as Curly set his bag down by the door and removed his jacket. Helga groaned. "How're we gonna get it from there?" she hissed despairingly. Arnold shrugged.

"Come on Helga, think," she muttered to herself. This was her area of expertise. What she needed was a distraction. "I've got it!" she said, snapping her fingers and quickly locating a store cupboard. "Come here," she whispered, grabbing Arnold's shirt and pulling him along. She threw open the door and her eyes lit up. "Get in," she said, and Arnold, feeling thoroughly confused, did as he was told.

She knelt down in front of him and rummaged through a box on the floor. "Helga, what are you doing?" he said, trying to peer over her shoulder. She merely ignored him and carried on searching, pulling out soft shoes and ribbons. "Aha!" she exclaimed suddenly, and pulled out a pair of pink tights and a black leotard. Arnold couldn't help but laugh.

"You're going to wear those?" he said, tears filling his eyes.

"No," Helga said with a sweet smile. "You are."

"Me!" Arnold shrieked. The smile never left Helga's face.

"I can't do it, he'll suspect. You just go in there, make with the conversation for a little while so I can grab the bag and then you can split. It's no big deal. Ten minutes tops, I swear."

"No way. Nuh uh. There is no way you're going to make me wear these tights!"

-

"I can't believe I'm wearing these tights."

Helga knew she had a lot of making up to do, but it had occurred to her that she didn't know how long the average ballet lesson lasted and time was slowly ticking away. She pushed Arnold through the door to Curly's class and waited outside for the signal.

Madame Bouvier was a formidable looking woman. Her blue rinsed hair was pulled into a tight bun and she had the athletic look about her of a woman who has never been out of shape, not even in her later years. She pursed her lips as Arnold staggered ungracefully in front of her class.

"And just 'oo might you be?" she asked in a raspy French accent.

"Um, I'm Arnold," he said nervously. She folded her arms across her chest. "Oh, sorry I'm late," he added lamely.

"Sorry I'm late Madame" she said sharply. "I do not usually accept students zis late in de course, and you 'ave not been in my class before, non?" She tapped her foot daintily and regarded him with a heavy dose of suspicion.

"I, er, transferred 'ere, I mean here, Madame," he said. She waved him off with a flick of her wrist, obviously not bothered with the whys or how comes. Arnold smiled and looked for Curly. Their eyes met through the sea of tutus and Curly smiled. Arnold went to stand at the bar next to him.

"Arnold! What are you doing here? I never knew you took ballet!" Curly exclaimed happily.

"Neither did I," Arnold muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Arnold said quickly. "So anyway Curly," Arnold said, switching sides so Curly was no longer facing the door, "still going strong at the ballet huh?"

"Um, yeah, still here. Look, Arnold, I just want to say that I don't mean to do anything bad to Helga, but it's Rhonda. Rhonda! You get that don't you?"

"Um, sure Curly," Arnold said, crossing his fingers, the signal that Helga should sneak in and grab Curly's bag.

"Ah, good," Curly said, stretching his leg out. Arnold copied him, remembering he was supposed to be a student too.

Helga pushed to door open wider and reached her arm around the frame, hoping she could get hold of the bag without actually having to set foot in the room. Her hands fell on his jacket and she whipped it off the bag in one quick motion. She paused, listening to see if anyone had heard or seen. A few seconds passed and nothing happened. Her eyes flicked to Curly. He was chatting to Arnold, pointing at his leg warmers and Arnold was feigning intense interest.

Helga smiled at her crush. Despite all the insults she had thrown at him over the years, all the well aimed spit balls that had landed in his hair, and all the times she had knocked him down in the street, he was still willing to dress up in ballet clothes for her and make a total fool of himself, just to save her skin. She shook her head, still smiling. Sometimes that boy was just too good to be true.

-

Meanwhile the kids down by the docks were growing bored with just sitting around. They were passing ideas back and forth between them, none of which appealed to anyone, not even those who suggested them.

"Sid, if you say 'frog fishing' one more time…" Rhonda warned, looking at her nails. Sid pouted but kept quiet.

"It's way too hot for baseball," Stinky drawled lazily.

"Hey Arnold," Gerald said smoothly, "what do you think?" The silence was enough to hear the crickets chirping. "Arnold?" Gerald said, looking around. He shrugged. "Guess he went home." Rhonda searched the group for both Arnold and Helga, and when she noticed they were both missing her mouth fell open.

"Are you alright Rhonda?" Nadine asked.

"Yeah, I've, uh, I've got to go," she said hurriedly, and with that she took off toward the ballet school.

-

Helga was stretching her arm as far as it would reach, but she still couldn't hook her fingers around the strap of Curly's bag. She pulled her arm back and growled. The only solution would be to dash in there, grab the bag and run out again, obviously taking Arnold with her. She took a deep breath and pushed the door wide.

The entire class jumped in shock as the door slammed against the wall and Helga darted in. She snatched the bag up onto her shoulder and looked at Arnold. "Come on, run!" she yelled. Arnold didn't need to be told twice. Ignoring Curly's puzzled look, he dashed across the studio and flung himself through the door towards Helga. They both took off toward the front entrance, Curly's bag slapping painfully into Helga's thigh with each step she took. She could see the street outside, they were almost home free.

Something caught on the bag and Helga fell to the ground with a painful bump. She looked up to see what had caused the accident and saw Rhonda standing over her, the gym bag swinging from her hand. "Going somewhere Helga?" she said in a whisper. Helga got to her feet but was careful to mind her temper. Arnold had also rejoined the scene now.

"Come on Rhonda," he said earnestly. "You're going too far with this. Why is it so important to you anyway?" Rhonda did a double-take when she saw what Arnold was wearing, but then she tried her best to make it look as though it hadn't fazed her. She let out a hollow laugh.

"Oh poor naïve Arnold," she began, now pacing back and forth in front of them. Arnold raised his eyebrow at her. "You'll never know what it'll be like to be snuffed out from everyone's memories," she sighed dramatically. "This summer's events have made sure of that. You'll forever be remembered as the boy who saved the neighbourhood. You're legendary Arnold." Here she fixed him with a cold stare. "And I'm not."

"Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was made to be the name on the tip of everyone's tongue. Everyone was meant to recognise my face, to want to get close to me, and yet, here we are. The opportunity for fame knocks on the door of another student from PS118, and that student still isn't me. And if that wasn't bad enough, it's Helga! Helga G. Pataki! She doesn't deserve that place on that Wall of Fame. I do. We all know it's true. I'm the one who's going to be legendary some day, but for that to happen I'm going to have to start early."

"What makes you so sure you'll get the space if I don't?" Helga asked.

"Ah Helga, you're so frightened of being forgotten, aren't you? I mean, that's why you're going to all this trouble with this ridiculous bet, just to get a place in everyone's head. But that's the funniest thing Helga, you didn't have to."

"I didn't?"

"Of course not! As much as it pains me to admit it, you're pretty unforgettable. You've really made your mark on PS118. You're rude, you're a bully, no one really seems to like you that much-"

"Wow, I'll add that to my résumé," Helga said dryly.

"-but," Rhonda continued, ignoring Helga. "You stand up for us, especially in the face of fifth graders. You've always been the leader, and you've always insisted on wearing that stupid pink bow in your hair! You'll always be remembered, even if it is just for your accessories. And I, the most fashionable student in the entire school, will be second to the fact that you dress like a three year old."

Helga was stunned. She never thought people would remember her, but then she knew she had made the odd crater in people's memories with her antics. The float her father paid for, the comedy routine, the fact that she was, in general, someone you remembered to steer clear off on a bad day. She even contemplated feeling bad for Rhonda.

"But now, I'm going to take that indelible mark on the wall away from you and hand it to myself!" But then again…

"Rhonda look, if it means that much to you," Helga began, gently nudging Arnold's foot with her own, "why don't we both go on there? It has been all out war after all, both sides should be commemorated…" Rhonda put a thoughtful finger to her mouth and looked to the sky as Arnold inched ever closer to the bag.

"What the heck is that!" Helga yelled suddenly, pointing towards the entrance, and as Rhonda fell for the oldest trick in the book Arnold snatched the bag from her hand. He and Helga dashed for the door, determined to make it outside before Rhonda caught up to them. To their relief her path was blocked by a class that had just been dismissed. She screamed in outrage.

"Come back here!" she yelled, but her words fell on deaf ears.

-

Arnold and Helga arrived at the bus stop, choking out laughter now that the danger had passed. "Oh man," Arnold said, his cheeks flushed red, "I'm going to get so mocked for this tomorrow at school," he said, pulling at his leotard. Helga chuckled.

"Sorry man, I left your clothes in the supply cupboard," she said as the bus pulled up. They both climbed aboard, the bus driver giving Arnold a sideways look, and went to sit down. "Look Arnold. Thanks, I mean it. You really helped me out of a bad situation tonight."

"Any time Helga," he said, smiling. "Or should I say about time?" Helga raised a questioning eyebrow at him. Arnold shrugged. "It's about time I did something for you Helga," he said. "Before, you know…"

"Yeah, I know," she said softly. She could feel her eyes welling up. "Look," she said quickly. "Lets get that tape out and I dunno, eat it or something." They unzipped the gym bag and rooted through the crumpled up clothes and grubby sneakers in there until Arnold's hand found the cassette. He pulled it out and handed it to Helga.

"You want to do the honours?" he asked. She took it from him and immediately began attacking the tape, pulling the ribbon out in streams and scratching along it with her nails.

"Phew, now I feel a lot safer," Helga said, leaning back in her seat.

"I'll give this back to Curly tomorrow," Arnold said, putting the bag over his shoulder. The bus pulled up at Helga's stop and she stood up.

"I'll see you tomorrow then I guess football head," she said nervously.

"Hey wait. I wanna walk you home," he said sweetly. She smiled.

"Whatever floats your boat, just don't let Big Bob see you."

"Oh yeah," Arnold said. It had completely slipped his mind that Helga wasn't meant to be talking to him. They stepped off the bus and walked slowly down the street. The sun was beginning to set.

"Do you really have to go to England Helga?" Arnold asked sadly.

"Looks like," she whispered into the evening air. A silence passed between them. The earlier laughter had been forgotten and now they both just felt a little sad, remembering that times like these were times they would never have again.

"Oh, hey, look at this," Arnold said, trying to lighten the mood. He handed a gold heart-shaped frame to Helga, whose own heart began to race momentarily as she thought Arnold had gotten his hands on her locket again. She was relieved to see that in fact the frame held a picture of Rhonda. She turned it over. There was an inscription on the back.

"I will love you always, my darling Princess," she read aloud. She shook her head and tossed the photo back into the bag.

"It's sort of sad, isn't Helga? He loves her so much and she never even looks his way. It must be horrible to love someone that much when they don't like you back." He sighed. "Oh well, see ya later Helga," he said, just as they arrived at her house. She watched his back until he had disappeared from her view, and then she plunged her had down her t-shirt and pulled a familiar checked shirt out. She bundled it up close to her face and breathed in its scent.

"Horrible is right, Arnold," she said quietly, and she let herself into her house.