A/N: Any discrepancies between the TV show and my story (especially in the descriptions of the characters) are not intentional. It's just that when I picture these characters doing the things that I write, I picture them as real-life people, not cartoon characters, and I see them differently than how they're portrayed on TV. So if I say that Helga had large feet as a child, I'm saying that I think she would have had large feet if she were a real person, not that she necessarily did in the TV show (which I know she didn't, cause her shoes were tiny).
Also, I don't own Starbucks Double Shots; Starbucks does. Oh, and Principal Wartz is now the Superintendent of Schools in Hillwood School District.
Chapter One
I slowly awakened one Sunday in August, enjoying the bright, warm sunlight on my face. Blearily opening one eye, I glanced over at my alarm clock: it read 11:19 a.m. I dragged myself out of bed, padded over to my full-length mirror and stared at my reflection. Miss Bliss had suggested I try to find five things about my body that I like, in order to raise my self-esteem. So every morning I look at myself in the mirror and make a mental checklist of myself.
Today, I started at the top: I have long, cornflower blonde hair (up in two braids from sleep); bright blue eyes; a medium-sized, round nose; a large mouth with thin lips;a delicate neck and shoulders; average chest; toned arms; slim torso; narrow hips; small rear; and long, muscular legs ending in large feet. I smiled when I looked at my feet. They'd always been rather large for my size, but when I sprouted up six inches freshman year, I finally grew into them. Now I'm just about as tall as Olga.
Thinking of Olga reminded me that she said she had a surprise for me. Normally, I hate her surprises; even though she means well, she just doesn't understand that her interests and mine don't often coincide. I walked over to my dresser and pulled out my clothes for the day: a pink tank top and black athletic shorts. After getting dressed, I took my hair out of the braids and brushed it out, pulling it into a loose ponytail with an elastic band and tying my trademark pink ribbon around it. The ribbon wasn't the same one I had in fourth grade—that had frayed into oblivion somewhere around eighth grade—but it was similar.
There was a knock on the door. "Helga, are you awake?" Olga asked quietly. My sister had finally learned that it was dangerous to awaken me too early. She'd also gotten over calling me "little sister", which greatly increased my respect for her. Yeah, I still wanted to punch her lights out sometimes, but I'd pretty much learned to keep those impulses under control.
"Yeah, I'm up," I grumbled good-naturedly. "I'll be down in a minute." I quickly applied some foundation, eyeliner and lip-gloss before I went downstairs.
I walked into the kitchen, immediately going over to the refrigerator and taking a Starbucks Double Shot out of the door. I opened the can and flopped down into a seat at the kitchen table as Olga placed a stack of warm buttermilk pancakes and sausage in front of me. I slathered butter all over the pancakes, and poured roughly a gallon of maple syrup over the entire contents of the plate, before picking up my fork and digging in.
Five minutes later, when the plate was clean and I was comfortably full, Olga pulled an envelope from her purse, which sat on the floor next to the refrigerator. "Mummy, Daddy, as you know, I told you that I have a surprise for Helga." Bob and Miriam both nodded. Olga handed the envelope to me. "Here you go, Helga. Open it!"
With a practiced motion, I slid my index finger under the flap of the envelope, slitting it open with my fingernail. I pulled a sheet of paper out, along with what looked like a check-in ticket for an airplane. I unfolded the sheet of paper and began to read aloud.
International High School Transfer Association326 S. 19th Street
Hillwood, OR 10935
Ms. Helga G. Pataki
410 Jefferson Avenue
Hillwood, OR 10935
August 12, 2006
Dear Ms. Pataki:
I am pleased to say that we have considered your application, and you have been selected to be part of this upcoming semester's IHSTA transfer program. For this semester, you will be attending Ste. Genevieve High School in London, England.
Enclosed with this letter is your pre-paid plane ticket. When you arrive at your destination, an IHSTA representative will be there to take you to your sponsor family's place of residence.
On behalf of the whole IHSTA staff, I hope you will enjoy yourself and take this opportunity to learn more about the world!
Best wishes,
Abigail Jones
Director of Student Services
International High School Transfer Association
I stared blankly at the letter for a moment, trying to remember the breathing exercises Miss Bliss taught me. "Olga," I said, a bit of a scream in my voice, "what did you do?"
"Well, Helga, I heard about this from Superintendent Wartz, and I thought it would be a good experience for you. Everything's taken care of: I was able to get some scholarships, to reduce the cost, and I paid for what was left. It's an amazing opportunity, Helga; and I'd really appreciate it if you'd go, and at least try to make the best of it."
All I could think was that I'd be away from all of my friends for an entire semester; the only saving grace was that softball was a spring sport, and I wouldn't miss anything. "Olga, how many times have I asked you not to interfere with my life!" I exploded.
"Now, Helga, your sister was kind enough to do this for you; the least you could do is consider it," Bob said, standing.
"Your father's right," Miriam added. "Why don't you go upstairs and think about it a while? We'll discuss it later."
"Criminy! My whole family's against me!" I yelled. But I did as I was told, fully intending to post a rant on my weblog.
Strangely enough, though, the first thing I did upon going upstairs was to grab my cell phone. I hit my first speed-dial number, then the send button. I'd never tell Phoebe, but Arnold's the first person on my speed dial list.
He answered on the third ring; this told me that I'd woken him up. "Hello?" His voice, which had deepened considerably over the yearsto a throaty baritone, sounded husky from sleep. The sound of it, coupled with the picture of the sleepy, tousle-haired, boxer-clad teenager that popped into my head, made my pulse jump.
"Hey, Arnold," I said as casually as I could. "Dreaming about the World Series again?" This was a private joke between us, since Arnold was the pitcher on the boys' baseball team at school. Gerald also played, at shortstop. It seems like all those years of stickball at Gerald Field helped us all.
"Hey, beautiful," Arnold replied, his voice clearing as he woke up. Another private joke; Arnold was constantly yelling at me for putting myself down. His unconscious compliment made me flush with pleasure and embarrassment. "What's up? Do we have an emergency meeting today?"
I hadn't thought about it, but having a band meeting sounded like a good idea. "Yeah; my house at one. I have big news for everyone." 'Big' was the understatement of the century. "Hey, I have a question for you."
"Shoot."
"If you had the chance to go to England for free, would you?"
Somehow, it seemed like he knew it wasn't just an innocent question. "That depends. How'd it happen?"
"Someone signed you up for a transfer program, and you got accepted." Anticipating his next question, I continued, "You'd be there for a semester, leaving a week before school starts. You'd be living there with a family you don't know, going to a completely different school."
"Hmm…I don't know."
"Well, think about it, and let me know when you get here."
"Okay. I'll see you in a bit."
"All right. Say 'hi' toPhil andPookie for me."
"Will do." He hung up, and I closed my phone before grabbing my laptop off my desk. I logged on to my weblog and started typing a new entry.
At 12:30, I heard the doorbell. Racing down the stairs, I didn't see that my father had already opened the door, and I ran smack into Arnold, who was standing in the doorway.
"Hey, Helga. Happy to see me?" he teased. He wrapped his arms around me so that I couldn't get away, and gave me a quick hug.
"Of course I am," I replied. Before my father could ask what Arnold was doing here, I'd dragged him up the stairs to my bedroom and shut the door.
Arnold looked around my room, a small smile on his face. "Wow. I haven't been up here in a while. So many memories…"
I laughed. "Hello, you were just here on Friday."
"Oh, yeah. Must've forgot about that." He took his usual seat—the desk chair—and turned to face me as I sat down on the bed. "So. You're going to Britain, huh?"
I blushed slightly, surprised by his bluntness. "Well, not exactly…I haven't decided yet." I wiped my sweaty face, cursing the air conditioner for going out on one of the hottest days of the year. "But my parents will probably force me. I mean, Olga's already paid for everything…"
"Well, is there any particular reason why you don't want to go?"
I looked him in the eyes, and for a moment I thought I saw a spark of recognition. Did he know that I still held a torch for him, after all these years? "No," I lied, keeping my eyes locked onto his.
I felt bad, lying to him, but it was necessary. His friendship was too precious to me now to risk losing it just before I'd have to leave for five months. I stood and opened my closet door, pulling out the punching bag that had replaced my Arnold shrine. I started bopping it half-heartedly, too hot to do a serious workout. "It's just…my sister always does this, you know? She always sets things up, thinking I'll enjoy them, and I don't. She still doesn't understand me!"
"Have you ever thought that maybe she's just trying to open you up to new experiences?" Arnold asked.
"Well…no…" I admitted.
"There you go, then. I think she's trying to make sure that you don't retreat into a shell, like you did when you were younger. New experiences can help you become a better person."
"You know, Arnold, if I didn't know better, I'd almost say that you want me to leave." I turned away from him.
"No, of course not!" Arnold exclaimed, with a little more force than was necessary. "I'd be miserable without you."
"You would?" I asked, trying not to let the hope I was feeling seep into my voice.
"Of course." Arnold stood and enveloped me into a hug from behind. We fit perfectly together, with his chin resting against the crown of my head."Who else will tell me how to get a girl to go out with me?"
My heart broke a little right then. "Oh, so that's all I mean to you? I'm your dating counselor?"
Arnold spun me around by my shoulders andlooked into my eyes. "No. You're also a kick-ass guitarist, a beautiful singer, an amazing personal trainer, and the best girl friend a guy could ask for."
I smiled, despite the fact that I could hear how he separated the words 'girl' and 'friend'. "Thanks, Arnold. But I think I'll be going to England next week."
Arnold smiled. "Whatever makes you happy."
I couldn't help but think to myself that the only thing that would make me truly happy would be his love; but of course, I couldn't say that out loud. "Okay, so I'm gonna tell everyone when they get here."
"And I'll be right here with you, in case you chicken out."
A/N: Wow, five pages! That's pretty good for my first chapter. It'll take a while for Chapter 2 to come out, because I'm writing these longhand, then transferring them to the computer during my free hours at school, when I'm not doing homework. But I promise I'll make the wait worth your while!
Here's a little preview of the next chapter:
"Hey, Helga."
"Arnold? What are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd help you pack."
If I wasn't trying to hide my feelings for him, I would've squealed right there. "Thanks. I'd appreciate some help."
He held out a brown paper bag. "I brought you something." I took the bag, opening it up to see aquart of Mocha Mint ice cream, my favorite flavor, and two spoons. "Something to snack on while we pack."
I did squeal, then, much to Arnold's surprise. "Wow, you really are a girl?"
I smacked his arm. "Shut up, or you don't get any ice cream."
"But I bought it!"
"But you bought it for me," I pointed out, "so it's mine now." I walked up the stairs, leaving Arnold dumbstruck for a moment, before he started up the stairs behind me.