A/N: Well, Christmas is VERY quickly approaching, and the money in my pocket is slowly dwelling. Minimum wage sucks (though I get paid slightly more than that…and I emphasize slightly). Sorry, I just feel that Christmas has gotten away from the real meaning, but I'm sure you get that enough so I'll stop there.

Disclaimer – I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything associated with it (I try to have a different thing every time, but now it's just getting lame).

A Sure Thing

Chapter 5 – Hell is a Place on Earth

~ Wednesday, April 16 ~

"If I had one wish this is what it would be: I'd ask you to spend all your time with me, and we'd be together forever. We'll buy a small house in South Central L.A., raise lots of kids, and we'd both join a gang, just as long as we're together," Arnold sang softly as he worked on his note cards for his English paper. He figured it was about time he actually started putting some effort into the project.

"The things you make me want to do. I'd rob a Quik-E Mart for you. I'd go the pound and let all the cats go free, just as long as you'd be with me," a voice sang beautifully behind him, scaring him half to death.

He turned around. Helga was smirking down at him. "You are such a dork. Who sings in the library?"

"You," he snapped back.

She shrugged. "Point taken." She sat down across from him, laid her books down, and laid her head on top of them as she began to doze off.

Arnold watched her for a few moments. He actually wanted to talk to her, but he was confused as to why she had to come over to his table to go to sleep. "Uh, Helga?"

"Hmmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"You're a smart boy, Arnoldo. I'm sleeping. You see, somebody kept calling me last night, and I couldn't get any sleep."

So she was ignoring me last night. "Why didn't you just pick up the phone and talk to me so I would stop calling?"

She snorted. "Arnold, I spent an entire night with the brat. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about her. You need to give your system some time to recover from her before you have to deal with her again."

"You make her sound like a stomach virus."

"More like Ebola for me, but whatever." She closed her eyes. "How'd you get my phone number anyways?"

"Cory."

"I'll kill 'im," she muttered, but a slight smile appeared on her face.

"So . . ." he started. Hadn't he given her enough hints that he wanted to talk about Lila?

"So don't ever leave fifteen messages on my answering machine ever again. Lord, you're like that girl on How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days."

"I wouldn't know, seeing as how I generally don't go to chick flicks!"

She opened an eye. "Really? Fooled me. I figured you'd like them since you act like a girl most of the time."

"I do not act like a girl!" Why is it every time I'm around this girl I have to defend my sexuality (which I am very secure of!)?

"Oh, you do to. Don't worry, some girls like that, but if I were you, I'd grow some balls fast. Seriously," she said in a very good Eric Cartman impression.

"Damn it, Helga!" he cried, and he leaned across the table and lifted her head off her books. Helga looked up at him, half frightened, half awestruck. All his frustration melted away as he stared into her eyes, and he felt a strange peace wash over him. That is until he realized what he was doing. Arnold blushed deeply and dropped his hands. "Sorry," he muttered, looking away from her.

He could feel her staring at him, but she quickly moved on, shoving a piece of paper at him. "Here's a list of Lila's likes and dislikes."

Arnold took the sheet and looked it over. "Well, this helps."

Helga stared at him, then laughed. "Do you want to know what to do with that information?"

"I have a few ideas of how to use this to my advantage!"

Helga raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, what would you do?"

"If I was you?"

He nodded.

"I'd grow some balls and ask her out."

Arnold's eyes narrowed. At least she's consistent, so I generally know what insults she's throwing me. "I'm just supposed to go up to her and say, 'Hey, Lila, wanna swap some spit at the American Rival?'"

Helga's eyes widened. "Oh-ho, so that's what you want out of this relationship!"

"No, I was being sarcastic! I didn't mean that literally, though I wouldn't say no to it …"

"Oh, our little Arnold's going after his first piece of ass! Where's the camera when you need it?"

"Helga, if you don't shut up I won't help you anymore."

She titled her head. "Fine."

"WHAT?" Arnold was completely confused. Helga was entirely calm with his threats (though he doubted any threat he give really held its purpose). She cleaned her nails, smiling slightly. "You're not even the least bit bothered by that?"

"Nope."

Now he was just insulted. "Why not?"

She looked at him dully. "Contract, yutz. If you miss a practice, I am legally bond to do whatever I want to you, so I could make your life hell just for my personal amusement."

"You do that anyways," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" she snapped.

"You sure twisted everything so it was in your favor."

"Well duh. I'd be stupid not to, and you were stupid to sign it without looking it over thoroughly."

Arnold twirled his pencil in his hands for a few moments before slamming it down on the table. He began to pack his stuff up.

"Where are you going?" she asked, suddenly completely engrossed in this actions in the conversation.

"Some place where I can get my work done, so, in general terms, away from you."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Gee, I'm sorry for trying to help you," she hissed.

"You're not helping me, you're insulting me. Face it, Helga, you're useless."

Arnold was not prepared for her reaction. Helga looked like she'd been slapped, and the pain was written all over her face. "I may be useless, Hair Boy, but at least I'm not pathetic! You don't even know how to ask a girl out on a simple date. 'Pride of South Central' indeed!"

The bell rang, and Helga shot him one last disgusted look before leaving.

Arnold sighed, and walked to his locker. Okay, so that was a little harsh, but it's not like it's anything worse than everything she's done to me. However, he had to agree at least a little bit that when it came to Lila, he was a tad on the pathetic side.

He was busy angrily shoving books into his bag when Gerald walked up beside him. "What's got your panties all up in a twist?"

Can we please stop the "Arnold acts like a girl" jokes? "Nothing," he snapped, shoving his evil U.S. History book in his bag.

"Something's up. Usually you aren't so abusive to your books, though I must say I regularly get the urge to set mine on fire or chuck 'em out a window, preferably on the teacher of the class."

Arnold sighed. "We had another fight."

Bewilderment swept over Gerald's face. "What? You guys are already in the "Ike and Tina Turner" mode? When did you even start dating?"

Arnold stared at him. "What? We're not dating! I like Lila, remember?"

"Then whom are you fighting with?"

"Helga. Who else?"

"Oh, yes. Helga, aka the wicked bitch of the west."

"She's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Arnold, please, don't tell me you're developing a soft spot for Helga G. Pataki!"

"I don't have a soft spot for her…. Look, can we just drop this all together?"

Gerald shrugged. "Fine by me. Helga the Bitch is not exactly my favorite topic of conversation."

Arnold sighed. There was no changing Gerald's opinion of Helga. He walked to the locker room with a queasy feeling in his stomach. Helga was right, as much as he hated to admit it. He was going to have to ask Lila out sometime. Worse yet, he had a practice with Helga tonight…

¤~¤~¤

Helga was lying in the grass beside the ball diamond when Arnold arrived three hours later. She kicked her legs up and down as she lay on her stomach as she read. She looked like a little girl, and the thought made Arnold smile and hopeful for the next couple hours. "What are you doing?" he asked as he sat down beside her.

"Poetry."

"Poetry?"

"Yeah, so it's probably nothing you'd be interested in." She shut her book.

"Helga, I'm a musician. I like poetry. That's what we write."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Okay, so it's mostly Corbin who writes it, but still."

"Look, Arnold, I'm tired of fighting. Can we just get to work?"

Arnold watched her get up to get her stuff. She acted somewhat depressed, certainly not like her normal self. He wondered what was wrong, but figured it was wiser not to ask her to explain herself.

However, whether Helga wanted to fight with him or not, nearly an hour and a half later they were nearly ready to kill each other.

"Helga, please, if you just do what I tell you you'll be fine."

"I am keeping my weight back, Hair Boy, and who died and made you the supreme ruler of all that is hitting?"

"You're the one who practically begged for my help!" he thundered.

"Excuse me? I believe you're the one who was graveling for my assistance!"

"Right, and since you're such a selfish brat we're here because heaven forbid you help someone else without having to get something in return!"

"That's bad business!"

He waved a hand at her. "And there's the Pataki coming out of you."

Helga threw her bat down. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He followed in suit and threw his glove on the ground, half out of anger, half to mock her. "It means you are a mini-Big Bob Pataki!"

Helga turned bright red. "Take that back or I swear I'll kick your ass!"

"Please, Helga, if you haven't noticed, we're not in forth grade anymore. You can't bully me around these days."

"Really? The way you've been chasing after Lila Sawyer like an idiot chicken with his head cut off got me all confused!"

"Maybe you're right, Helga. Your unibrow is coming in quite nicely!"

"You bastard! I'll kill ya!"

Helga reached the pitcher's mound faster than he thought humanly possible (well, at least her first step is quicker, he thought grimly). She shoved him to the ground and hit him square in the jaw. He threw his weight at her, and they began to roll. When they finally stopped, Arnold pinned Helga's shoulders down. "Helga, I've never hit a girl, so don't you dare make me start now!"

"Get off me!"

"Not until you promise me you won't have another go at me."

Helga grabbed his arms and pulled her knee up with as much force as she could muster. Arnold automatically released his grip on her and rolled off to the side. "I won't have other go at you."

"Thanks," he murmured, his voice very high.

Helga sat still as he recovered. "I guess its safe to say this training session is over."

"Yeah," he muttered, still doubled over with pain.

Helga stood up, grabbed her notebook that was lying beside the backstop, and sat back down next to Arnold, who was now sitting upright, but still in pain. "I'm sorry for hitting you…and the knee thing."

"Right." He rubbed his jaw.

"I'm just really stressed and frustrated, and I took it out on you." Her expression darkened. "Plus you said I was just like my father."

"Yeah, that was a little low, but so was all the things you said about me."

She nodded. "Okay, new rule: no physical abuse of any kind."

He raised an eyebrow. "Verbal's still okay?"

"Please, Arnold. Let's not break tradition."

He laughed. "Deal. So what's the notebook for?"

She looked at it and bit her lip. "Well, since you are too chicken to ask Lila out in person –"

"I'm not chicken!"

"Okay, uncomfortable, I figured you could write her a love-letter type thing. This way you won't say or do anything stupid, and she'll think it's romantic, or whatever."

That's actually a good idea. "Okay. Let's start."

"Just tell me what to write."

"Right. Um, Lila, comma –" He stopped as Helga raised her eyebrows. "What?"

She dropped her eyes back to the letter. "Nothing, it's just I figured you should start out with a better greeting than just her name."

Arnold crossed his arms. "Okay, what do you suggest?"

"Well, I figured something along the lines of, 'my dearest Lila,' would be fitting enough for your dream girl." Her expression was innocent, but her brown eyes here twinkling maliciously.

"Helga, I'm asking the girl out on a date, not going off to fight for the Union!"

She shrugged. "Fine. Lila," she said in a deep voice. "Now what?"

He shot her a nasty look. "Okay, I was wondering if you would be interested in going to the movies with me this Friday night. I think we would have a really good time together and …. Would you stop looking at me like that and write?"

Helga held her hands up in surrender. "Sorry, I just thought you should make it sound like you're not in sixth grade. And you're taking her to the movies?"

"Yes! What's wrong with that? And what's wrong with my letter? That's how I talk!"

"Well, you need to bump it up a little because clearly regular-old-Arnold-and-a-movie isn't good enough for Princess Pill."

Arnold grabbed his mitt and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Helga asked, following him as he walked away.

"Somewhere where I won't be insulted every other second."

"Would you stop being so Goddamn sensitive?"

He turned around. "You know, Helga, this isn't worth it, okay? Even if I get Lila to date me, it won't matter because I'll have your voice in my head telling me what to do, and your lies will be in her head. Consider the deal off."

Helga was rooted where she stood. "But we signed a contract!"

"So now you can officially make my life a living hell. That's what you're best at anyways."

Helga watched him walk away, completely ashamed of herself. She drove home in silence, ignoring Mickey's calls to her cell phone. However, the last thing she expected to see when she opened penthouse door was her father.

"Where have you been, Missy?" Big Bob roared at her.

"At practice," she said as she walked past him.

                He grabbed her arm and spun her around. "Practice doesn't last until 8:30."

"So I took the long way home."

"You were supposed to have dinner with your family and the Moores."

Helga vaguely remembered Miriam saying something about that. "So I forgot." She made a face. "Where did you tell them I was this time, tutoring orphans or volunteering at the hospital? I'd like to keep up with my extracurricular activities."

"Don't you dare get smart with me! This was very important –"

"Right, Dad. It's very important to have your two daughters Olga and Olga there to show off to your clients."

"Damn it, young lady, don't joke about this. You missed something that was very important to me!"

She stared her father straight in the eyes. "What about all my games, Bob? Or my parent-teacher conferences? Those were important to me. Or my driver's test? Freshman orientation? Award banquets at school? Or what about all those dinners I'm invited to because I'm salutatorian? Do you think I didn't care when you and Miriam weren't there?"

He released her. "Go to your room. I'm tired to talking about this."

"That's right, Bob. Just swept things under the Persian rugs. No one will ever find them again," she muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"With pleasure, but that's not my room." She headed upstairs. "My room's across town!"

"That's the thanks I get for providing you with this penthouse and this life of luxury?" he yelled after her.

"I never asked for it, and as far as I'm concerned, I've never once wanted it or needed it!" she thundered. She slammed the door, threw herself on her bed, and did what she generally did every night.

She cried.

¤~¤~¤

"If anyone asks you, Quin hit me because I said he sucked at bass," was the first thing Arnold said to Gerald after he picked up the phone.

"Why would I need to say that?"

Arnold turned on his computer and logged onto the Internet. "Because Helga' socked me in the jaw."

"What? Why?"

"Cause I insulted her. I got her pretty good, too."

"So why didn't you just hit her back?"

"I can't hit Helga."

"I would."

Arnold rolled his eyes. "I knew you wouldn't. No matter how much you hate Helga, she's still a girl, and you can't hit a girl anymore than I can."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that one. If Helga ever pushed me too far, she'd be in for a surprise. It's not fair. She uses that to get the upper hand, you know. Girls are like that."

Arnold rolled his eyes and was going to check the baseball scores when a loud beep came from his computer. "Oh my God," he muttered, interrupting Gerald's theory on girls.

"What," Gerald asked.

"Lila just IMed me."

"What'd she say?"

"She'd love to."

"She'd love to what?"

"I have no idea." He honestly did not.

"Has she said anything else?"

"Yeah. She wants me to pick her up at 7:30 on Friday, and …"

"And what?"

Arnold sighed. "And she loved the letter."

"Letter? What letter?"

"Look, Gerald, I'll call you back."

"What? Arnold, you can't leave me like this! What letter?"

"Bye, Gerald." Arnold chewed on the end of his pencil before typing to Lila he was glad she liked it and he'd talk to her tomorrow at school. He signed out and picked up the phone again.

Helga picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"Ugh, didn't I tell you not to call me anymore?"

"Helga."

She sighed. "You were right. I've been a jerk, so I decided to really help you."

"Thanks, Helga. You know, you really surprise me sometimes."

"Just taking a break from my day job."

Arnold rubbed his neck nervously. "I didn't mean that."

"Sure you didn't," she said shortly. "Anyways, you're taking her to see West Side Story this Friday."

"I thought that was sold out."

"So I pulled some strings to make up for that nasty bruise that I'm sure is forming on your jaw."

Arnold was floored. "Wow. I don't know what to say."

"Perfect, because I like much you better when you're not talking. Anyways, nothing major in the note, so you'll be okay with Lila. And as much as I love talking to you, a girl needs her beauty sleep, and we both now I need as much of that as possible."

"Helga, that's –"

"Hey, I gotta keep those unibrows at bay. Good night, Arnold, and you do know this means the deal's back on, right?"

"Right. Sweet dreams, Helga."

The phone clicked in his ear, and Arnold was too stunned to call Gerald back. Wow, Helga does tend to come through for me whenever I need her. Quite an amazing creature. Annoying, but amazing all the same…

A/N: Be back in a flash. Later days.