Well, I finally updated, just in time to keep this fic from going off the front page. I'll admit that 'April Fools' episode threw me for a loop. How could they have given Helga's birthday as being in March; this whole thing depends on it being in summer, argh! Well, I'm going ahead with this anyway as if that little tidbit had not been revealed. In the words of the immortal Bugs Bunny, eh, maybe we can fix it in the editing. It's going to take some kind of revision, however, until which I'm reluctant to submit this to Gerald's Library, and I'd appreciate any suggestion y'all might make.

Wow, again so many reviews! Do y'all realize that now I have an average of seven reviews per chapter? It's humbling, really, knowing y'all like this effort so much. Lessee, in the order in which y'all reviewed...
Chien, thanks. I thought it would.
Starry Nights, wow. Thanks. I got the Lafitte info from the encyclopedia (and my imagination), the psychological info from my old psych textbook from college --- yes, I'm that old. And you are correct, and I'm not done with that other show yet either.
Poison Ivory, thanks. I have tried so much not to go ooc with anyone. Brainy is different; I pretty much have a blank slate and ideas to spare. I do have an explanation for Haunted Train, and only lack an opportunity to use it, which might crop up without warning the way this fic has been going. And thanks for the backup on voices. How could I have forgotten "What's Opera, Arnold?" --- a tribute to the late Chuck Jones --- in my research? Fortunately, I saw it a couple days after your post and I must say you're right, although I didn't find her voice that grating but that's just me.
JESS, kewl. Here's your lucky chapter, maybe not so lucky for me.
J.T., to quote Saturn, you're welcome. Here's Helga & Arnold. And I think we're on the same page.
Houkanno Yuuhou, thanks. I was pleased at how well it came together; then again, I was amazed at how much sense my theory made based on "Wheezin' Ed", without which this fic would not have been possible. Don't worry about Brainy; I have plans for him as well and methinks some here already know what they are. And as you know I have come back to Kim's board. I'm reminded of what Meatball Bonfetti once said in the Khrushchev List ep of Scarecrow & Mrs. King: "They are a shy & sensitive bunch, as you can see." Eventually I'll fit in; in the meantime, I can use the occasional slapdown as an antidote for the sweetness of these reviews lol. Maybe I'll get the hang of it one of these days.
n8, channeling Mr. Hyunh, are we? I can relate; sometimes on a chat for some odd reason the subject of lint comes up and I go off.
Mystic Rains, thank you ever so much (and I'm not sorry for the Lila ref). I could see Brainy as Paris. Those with sharp eyes will notice in the School Play ep that it was Curly in that scene in the crypt, but we all know that Curly was Mercutio in that play. And just before the play Brainy was among those in costume. Also, Paris' costume in the crypt scene was all wrong iirc. So I put Brainy as Paris; it just fits. Also, I hadn't considered that as a factor in Phoebe's chagrin, but it makes sense and I'll see what I can do about working it in. As to your review of that other chapter (blushes), um, yeah, it does.
Ryoko-onee (yay, another Tenchi fan), thank you. The couples are going to be as you have mentioned them. Eventually Helga and Brainy will come to an understanding, but not for a long, long time. I have plans for these characters that if they come to fruition will extend decades into their futures, although not necessarily in such detail as this fic is. Helga will continue to not even really notice Brainy, but someday...

Fair warning: the spacing might confuse y'all; it confused me as I wasn't sure how to space things. Any suggestions will be taken and considered. Please read & review, y'all.

Hey Arnold! is created, owned, & / or copyrighted by Craig Bartlett, Snee-Oosh, & / or Nickelodeon, which in turn is owned by Viacom. This chapter contains gratuitous clips from numerous HA! eps, and their presence alongside my own clips in no way signifies that I think myself as being anywhere close to the level of Mr. Bartlett.

Phoebe and Lila made it to Gerald Field just in time for Helga to not blow her top. The rest of the gang was already there.
"Well it's about time! Now you get your can into right field, Lila."
"I'm ever so certain that I just love right field, Helga. In fact it's just--"
"Don't start with me, farm girl. You said the exact same thing about center field; now just get out there."
Lila caught Helga's eye then. No one was really looking at them, but if one had he or she might have noticed something passing between them. Whatever it was, Helga was first to break the gaze, looking down toward the ground. As Lila walked out to her assigned position, Helga continued to issue orders.
"Speaking of center field, that's where you are, Princess. Stinko, you're in left field."
Meanwhile, Arnold & Gerald were having a talk.
"So what happened at the park, man?"
Arnold cast his gaze after Lila's retreating form. "sigh Let's just say I know where I stand now."
Gerald read the look on his friend's face. "Aw, she dumped you, huh?"

"She already had. This was more of a cutoff. She's made it clear that I should give up on her."
"I'm sorry, my friend."
"Thanks. But you know? I feel better since I talked about it with someone."
"Oh. Well, I'm glad I could be there for you." Gerald said. He would never have guessed that Arnold was referring to Helga.
As usual, Arnold let such things slide. "Right, Gerald."
"Hey! Hair boys!" Helga had been trying to get their attention.
Arnold --- and for that matter Gerald --- was caught by surprise. "What?"
"I said you two are in the infield, and I'd better see some double plays from you two and Phoebe."
"Phoebe?" Gerald asked.
"Yeah, I said she was at first, you're at second, and of course the Short Man's shortstop, doi! If you'd been paying attention, you'd know. Sid, you take the hot corner."
"Third base?!? Aw, man!"
"You heard me."
"But boy howdy, Helga, the only thing worse than being in right field where the ball never comes, is to be at third base. Every line drive will have my name written on it!"
"Let pink boy worry about that; if someone gets a line drive it'll be off him."
Harold heard that. "Wait, Helga, you're confusing me! You mean I'm back at pitcher?"
"Doi, that's what I said. Now get on the mound!"
And so he did, muttering, "Madame Fortress Mommy!" as he went.
The others walked to their spots in the field; Phoebe, however, had other ideas. "I'll be right there." she said to Gerald before she ducked behind the backstop. The wooden backstop, not the chain-link one.

This was a tradition that she and Helga had developed over time; Phoebe did this when there was something she needed to discuss with Helga. Of course Helga soon joined her behind the backstop.
"So, Pheebs, what's it about?"
"That was unexpected, you switching back with Harold."
"Eh, he can have the mound. More people pay attention to the pitcher, but it's the catcher who's boss. You think Don Larsen would've thrown that perfect game if he hadn't gone with Yogi Berra's signals?"
"Um, I guess not."
"That's right, he wouldn't have. But you didn't call me back here to talk about that."
"Right. I was just wondering how your 'ice cream' was."
"Oh, um, well, what can I say, we talked, I think it's going to be all right, eventually. What about Miss Perfect? How's she taking dumping the chump?"
"Well, she's been pretty broken up about it, but she said she had to do it. I saw her push you; are you going to do anything about it?"
"Why should I? None of us were thinking clearly. I'll let it go this time. Look, I'll call you about it tonight. Now c'mon, we'd better get out there."
"Right."
"Oh, and Phoebe..."
"Forgetting."
With that, they emerged from the backstop. "Okkay, batter up!" Helga called the game to order.

So went the rest of the day. Just a normal Sunday afternoon and evening. So went the week, normally. The kids managed to keep busy; in addition to the group projects, there were practices, or games, or in Harold's case a job, or just goofing around.
Oh, the group projects? Well, of course they were secret, but if one had been paying attention one might have noticed them doing certain things. Arnold, Gerald & Helga seemed to be mostly holed up in the boarding house; whatever they were doing seemed to be centered there. Nadine, Rhonda & Sid seemed to be similarly involved with regard to the Lloyd building. Curly, Harold & Stinky could be seen going back forth between Stinky's ever- growing garden, the butcher shop, and the zoo. Eugene, Lorenzo & Sheena's movements could not be immediately gauged on sight; but they were doing something.
Brainy, Lila & Phoebe were also on the run that week. Whatever they were doing, it was in the park, and it apparently required clockwork precision. They could be seen looking at their watches at various points during their activities, including when they were together, as if they were synchronizing them. At times, if one had been observant, one might have noticed Brainy appearing to take notes.
Sometimes Helga would be hanging with her best friend Phoebe, which would be pretty much normal. Which left best friends Arnold & Gerald to do things together, again which would be pretty much normal. Eugene & Sheena would also do things together. As would Rhonda & Nadine. And the Terrible Trio --- Harold, Sid & Stinky. And Lila could be seen doing Big Sis Little Sis activities with Olga; word was that there was a standing invitation for Helga to join them, which she apparently had declined. Brainy, Curly, Lorenzo? They pretty much kept to themselves, apparently. Or at least they weren't seen around town when they weren't doing things with groups large or small. Except for Curly, who was sporadically seen generally running amok.
In short, it was as normal a week as any week for the kids of P.S. 118. Somewhat active.

Friday evening was by contrast calm, restful, or at least it was for a certain couple of blondes. Helga was engaged in one of her chief pursuits, writing in one of her little pink her books within sight of a likeness of her muse. Presently, her writing hand drew to her mouth, her eyes almost shut. She was thinking, remembering...

"...if you wanted to play Juliet because you really like Arnold, and you wanted to kiss him or something, well I sure could understand that. I guess I'd think it was ever so sweet, and I wouldn't mind giving up the part so you could do it."
"You mean, if I said I liked Arnold, you would let me play Juliet?"
"Sure, Helga..."

So she-- wait, she never did mind me liking him, and... no, I can't accept that. I mean, she knew, and that smug look on her face while I was struggling to get it out.

"I kind of had a funny feeling you liked him."

There! She even admitted it; she knew! She's known how I feel about Arnold for how many years? And she still led him on, she even went to that cheese festival with him that one time.

Remember the parrot?

The parrot? What brought that on?

Maybe there's a connection. That cheese festival was right after your monitor ate Big Bob's parrot, that Arnold had adopted. Lila grabbed his hand the moment it happened, remember?

So she went out with him because she felt sorry for him?

Maybe.

A likely story.

Remember Rhonda's costume party?

What about it?

You got her to train you to be like her.

So?

She knows you like like Arnold, she knows that Arnold like likes her, she knew that you wanted to be just like her. You do the math.

I hate math! I'm good at it, but I hate it.

You're avoiding the issue.

So what's new?

You can't keep it up indefinitely. Remember? You showed up as her, and she hugged you! And remember her conversation with Arnold later?

"Hi Arnold. Wherever have you been? I mean, I'm ever so certain I haven't seen you at all tonight."
"I've been hanging out with Helga."
"Helga? Well, gee, that sounds nice."

Did she make a move on him then? No, he invited her to go get some punch.

So that would mean she... no, I can't believe it, I won't believe it! She is an evil woman! She's a maneater!

A maneater?

Yes! Just like that surf skank Summer!

Do you really believe that?

Yes!

Sounds like you're having trouble convincing yourself.

I... sigh, leave me alone. What kind of a conscience are you anyway? I can't even see you.

I suppose you'd prefer a winged Arnold.

Well hey, it worked.

And wearing only a loincloth. I wonder what Dr. Bliss would say about that.

Just leave me alone.

Remember Sunday?

"It started with words someone wrote on a wall, 'Arnold loves Lila'. I hadn't even thought of you as more than a friend until then, and you certainly hadn't; you told me so..."

It had all been my fault

"...by indulging you in your deeds, I've been manipulating you, causing you to think that there's a possibility that my feelings for you could change back. Arnold, that's not going to happen..."

Wasn't she giving him the brush-off, clearing the path for you?

Um...

"I won't like like you, not ever. I know that you're not the oh so special someone I'm looking for. And logically, it would follow that I'm not the oh so special someone you're looking for."

Wasn't she?

"There's someone else for you, Arnold, and I have to let you go. You need to be there for her when she comes, and she will come, Arnold."

She couldn't have been talking about me! Um, could she have?

DOI! Did I ever tell you how astute you are?

Well, there's no need to be sarcastic, criminey!

That's debatable. Don't you remember what she said to you that day?

Please don't make me remember that.

Someone should.

No...

"...I did what I had to do. I set him free. Now, what are you going to do about it? ...you no longer have to worry about Arnold falling for me because I will take steps to keep that from happening..."

She was clearing the way for you.

Do you know how hard it is for me to relive this?

Suck it up; it has to be done. You can't keep sweeping it under the rug no matter what Big Bob says.

Awww, why did you have to put it like that?

"...The next girl might not be so understanding, and there probably will be a next girl soon enough. You told me your secret years ago, and since then you have done nothing to act on it. Well, you would be well advised to do so now. Next time I might not be able to help you..."

She was trying to help me?

Wasn't she?

I, I...

Wasn't she trying to get you together with Arnold?

Umm...

"Go to him, Helga. Go to him now! Do something, say something... Go on! Go to him!"

She was trying to get you together with him; that's not even debatable.

"...she's been pretty broken up about it, but she said she had to do it. I saw her push you..."

But by now Helga had had quite enough. She found herself shouting at herself. "Shut up! I don't want to hear any more of this, I don't want to think that she might actually be trying to help me. I don't want to think about this anymore!"
She was prostrate now, screaming, kicking, pounding the floor; when the door opened. Her parents stood there with expressions that on anyone else would've been concern. Their expressions, well, it's kind of hard to tell what they were thinking. Mercifully, the only light that was on in her room was a small light by which she had been writing; so Bob and Miriam didn't get a good look at the shrine, which would have been mortifying to say the least.
'Deer in the headlights' would be the title for the look in Helga's eyes before she managed a pathetic smile, like she'd done many times before.
Scowl, grimace, groan, sigh, rolling eyes --- all this was just a part of what could be seen and heard in and around the area of Bob Pataki's head. Finally, he turned on his heel and stalked back downstairs. Miriam was hot on his heels as the door closed.
Relieved at the passing of yet another mini-crisis, Helga closed the door to her closet to make her commune more private. Her hackles, momentarily lowered, automatically ascended again with the report of a knock on the door and her mother's slurred voice.
"Helga, did you remember to take your constipation medicine?"
"sigh Yes, Miriam." For some reason, her need for her medication had increased recently. Maybe it was hormones, or maybe the stress was getting to her more than it had been; who knew.
Helga then addressed herself to the image of her beloved. "Oh, orzo- shaped Prometheus..."

Meanwhile, several blocks away, the object of her adoration was in a similarly contemplative mood. It being Friday, Arnold had the checkers table set out and ready for the advent of his best friend. Arnold himself was mostly on his bed, face down.
The part of him that wasn't on his bed was his head and shoulders, together with his arms. He was examining one of his birthday presents from the previous Saturday, one he had received just before midnight; someone at the shipping office had made a special errand and had taken the opportunity to partake of some holiday cheer --- no, not that kind.
It was a boxed set of the greatest hits of Dino Spumoni, together with a compact disk, the latest project from Dino Spumoni, sent directly to him by Dino himself. The cover art was a frontal shot of Dino leaning over a piano, with Don Reynolds at the keyboard. The title: "Simply Us"; apparently Dino was finally giving his long-time best friend and collaborator some overdue credit.
All was apparently right in their world, Arnold thought, noticing the duo's happy, relaxed expressions. It might all have been a put-on such as was the primary language of Tinseltown, but he had heard on the radio and seen on television recent stories about his favorite singer having turned his life around, even reconciling with his formerly disowned and disinherited daughter Nancy.
Arnold took some measure of satisfaction at these recent developments, and whatever part he might have played in same. He didn't do what he did for any type of reward, but he did like it when people succeeded on a personal level based on advice from him.
Mentally patting himself on the back, Arnold again read the handwritten letter which had accompanied the present.

Hey Arnold,
I hear it's your thirteenth birthday. That's one of the biggies in a man's life. I remember my thirteenth birthday; my old man took me aside and gave me the lowdown on the facts of life. But I won't do that for you; I get the feeling you might have some idea what's what, maybe because I never did get my paperback 'I, the Jury' back. But fugeddaboudit, consider it an earlier birthday present. Mark your calendar, kid; when you hit sixteen I'm takin' you to Vegas. Until then, I hear they're finally fixing up the Circle Theater. Don't tell no one, but Don and the boys and I are making plans to open it with a concert next year. We already have the first ticket reserved for you. We'll be expecting you to show up and bring your friends with you; be there or I'll come looking for you, and I know where you live.

Again, happy birthday kid.
Sincerely,
Dino.

As he finished re-reading the letter, again, Arnold's attention was grabbed by a sound from his door.

"Gerald?" He was at the door in five seconds. He opened the door, to find no one there. No one on the personal stairs down to the second floor, either. He descended and looked up and down the hall; nobody.
He returned to his room, scratching his head over the source of the noise. As he crossed the threshold of the room his eyes went down, spotting a piece of paper in the doorway.
Soon, it was in his hands, his eyes devouring any written matter on it. One side was folded over and seemed to be stuck to itself; on the other side were written four words.

"Who found your hat?"

Helga? he thought. Now the gray matter within him had finally been stirred into high, or at least moderate, dudgeon. The piece of paper in his hand, food for thought threatening to surfeit his brain, Arnold fell onto his bed in the familiar flaking out pose, head on his pillow, eyes partially closed and in the direction of the ceiling / windows.
Remembering...

CRASH
"Arnold!"
"Sorry, Helga."
"I mean, watch where you're going, football-head!"

Strange, she shook her head just before her tone changed. And why am I always bumping into her anyway?

"GASP!! Helga! You found my hat!!"
"Oh, is that your hat?"
"I can't believe it! Thanks, Helga, thanks a lot!"

And then I hugged her. There was, what was that I heard? A sigh, then a slap, then...

"Yuck! Who said you could touch me?"
"Sorry. I couldn't help it."
"You tryin' to make me sick or sump'n'? Take your stupid hat and get outta here!"
"Okkay. Thanks again, Helga."

She did find my hat. Come to think of it, she looked like she'd been crawling through dumpsters. shrug She can be nice, sometimes.
His mind went back to another time...

"Arnold! Arnold!"
"Forget it, Helga. I'm waiting for Summer."
"She's over here."

"Sorry, Arnold."
"You were right the whole time, Helga."

"Sorry I didn't listen to you, Helga. Guess you were really just trying to be my friend."
"Yeah, well, I figured it was the right thing to do. I mean, she was taking advantage of you, and, I couldn't just,...

She was trying to be my friend? To do the right thing? Well, she can be nice when she wants to be. So why is it usually so hard for her to be nice?

"Y'know, it's funny that people would hate you so much just for acting nice and polite."
"Well, I'll tell ya, football-head, it's a funny world."
"Personally, I thought you were great out there. It's the first time I ever saw you, well, being nice. I liked it."
"You did?"
"Yeah. Why can't you act nice like that all the time?"
"Arnold, Arnold, Arnold. I can't do that! I'm mean and nasty and insensitive; That's just who I am. That's what makes me special."
"Whatever you say, Helga."
"You got it: whatever I say. Now, get out of my way, footballhead!"

"Hey, Arnold."
"sigh Don't start, Helga. I'm really not in the mood right now."
"Whoa, calm down footballhead. I come in peace."
"Really?"
"Hey, I might be mean and nasty and insensitive, but I'm not cruel. I saw what happened."
"You saw that?"
"Yeah, Phoebe had to meet Lila here. Something to do with their group project; poor Pheebs."
By now they were walking, in no particular direction.
"So, this time she really dumped you, huh?"
"Yeah."
"I mean she left no room for doubt, no hope or anything."
"Yeah."
"Well, it's not like there was anything there. I mean, she kept saying she only liked you, not like liked you."
"I know. I just couldn't stop hoping she might change her mind."
"Guess you'll have to now."
"I guess. There was something strange, though. She said there was someone else out there for me, and that I had to be there for her when she came along. I just wonder if she had anyone in particular in mind."
"Well, um, how could she? She wouldn't know. It just makes sense that if she's not the one someone else is."
"Yeah, you're right."

There had been more to that afternoon, about how he'd unloaded his troubles and frustrations and she had been there to listen and occasionally contribute to the conversation. But before Arnold could continue to relive that Sunday, when he had found Helga in a good humor too rare for his liking --- the same moments that, coincidentally, Helga was remembering at that very moment --- he was interrupted by his name spoken by his best friend.
"Hey Arnold!"
"Huh?"
"Wake up, man. Are we going to play checkers or what?"
Now it was his turn to shake his head, clearing the cobwebs. "Sorry, Gerald. I was just thinking."
"I know; I've been here for a couple of minutes now trying to get your attention."
"Sorry about that."
"Daydreaming again? You haven't done that in a while, that I know of."
"No, just remembering."
"Mm."
"I got another note, Gerald."
"What? Well, let's see it."
The paper was produced, and this time two pairs of eyes examined it.
"Why's it stuck in the back?"
"I don't know. Maybe someone wrapped their gum in it."
"No smell. I guess if it is gum it's plain flavored. Hey, you don't think it could be Arnie?"
"Arnie? No, he's still on the farm, a long way from here. And these notes have shown up without envelopes or anything."
"Yeah. So let's see. 'Who found your hat?'"
"Don't you remember that time I lost it? I remember Helga found it."
"So you think whoever's sending these is trying to get you to think about Helga G. Pataki?"
"I know, it's weird, but I can't come to any other conclusion."
"Well, why would someone want to do that?"
"I haven't been able to figure that out."
"So do we start with the handwriting comparisons?"
"Wouldn't do any good. Notice that this one is printed, and not very well. It's kinda like if one of us were to try to write with the hand we don't usually write with."
"Mm-hmm. Well, from the angle I'd say we're dealing with a left- handed person."
"So who's left-handed that we know?"
"We all seem to be at least ambidextrous, or hadn't you noticed?"
"Now that you mention it. What are the odds?"

And so it went. After they had exhausted their investigation, again, they turned to their usual Friday night activity.

Hours later, in a familiar blue brownstone, a familiar blonde was preparing for bed.
"Hmm, let's see, which one tonight. Long johns, nightgown, pajamas... oh, who cares?"
Since she apparently didn't care, neither do I. Suffice to say that ultimately she was preparing to sleep. Before she did so, she pondered her locket one more time.
"Good night, sweet prince. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."
And so to bed. The next day would be her birthday, not that she was looking forward to it. Not that she ever did.

Meanwhile, in the boarding house, Gerald had gone home and Arnold was doing pretty much the same thing as Helga. Only he was pondering the latest note. On a whim, he determined to unstick the back of the paper. After some effort, he did so.
When he did so, he saw more writing on the back.

"That person is in pain, and needs your help but will not admit it."

And with that, and some scratching of the head, he too addressed himself to sleep, a sleep pockmarked with mysteries running through his head.

Well, there it is. The next chapter will cover the morrow, Helga's birthday, and things will continue to be confusing, which will hopefully clear up on repeated readings hint hint. I dare not say how long I will be in getting it up, as I have no idea what obstacles will arise to block my path. That said, again, please review, y'all. Cy'all.