A/N: More snow in Indiana. I may never go back to school regularly again. ^_^
Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold!
A Sure Thing
Chapter 7 – All that Glitters
~Sunday, April 20~
"Well, this isn't going to work."
"Not unless you feel like mud wrestling."
Arnold shot Helga a look.
"What? Just a comment." She shrugged and looked away.
He sighed. The baseball diamond they usually used was currently a sloppy mess from the downpour the day before. "I forgot how badly this field drains."
"If it drains at all." She looked at him. "Now what?"
Arnold bit his lip. The batting cages were not open, and the grass was too slippery to practice her throws…. He watched a man and his dog run by, just as a little boy who was running away from his mother slipped and fell in the mud (which made the mother really start yelling at him). "I'll give you a choice."
"Okay." Her face brightened. "Movie?"
"Movie? What?" His face scrunched up in confusion.
"Let's go see a movie," she said as she pointed towards the large movie screen located at the southern end of the park.
"No, Helga, a movie is not a choice. Besides, it's Easter."
"Oh. Right."
He rolled his eyes. He highly doubted Helga knew this; her family was not religious at all (though he did know Helga went to church from time to time). He, on the other hand, had celebrated Flag Day earlier with his family and the rest of the boarders. He had learned long ago it was a hopeless battle to try to convince Grandma of which holiday it actually was, and he had to admit he had become quite accustomed to the Fourth of July Thanksgivings.
"ARNOLDO!"
"Huh?"
Helga glared at him. "Ya gonna stare out into space or are you going to help me?"
She's never gonna cut me some slack, is she? "Well, we can either practice sliding—"
"Yuck," she said as she glanced around, sounding exactly like Rhonda Lloyd.
"Or we can run," he finished. "Pick your poison, because there's not much else to do."
She pouted and bit her lip, which reminded him of Lila, except Helga did it in her own way. It was less childish and whiny and more comical, as if she was putting on a show for him (which she probably was). She suddenly looked at him, causing him to blush as she caught him looking at her. Helga's dark eyes were twinkling, which was very pretty, but Arnold knew from experience that she was most dangerous like this. She raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. "Catch me if you can!" she cried as she ran off.
"Helga, that's not how it works!" he cried as he shot after her. She had improved from the last time they raced; he was having difficulty catching up to her, especially when she went off the trail and ran in the mud. "Helga!" he breathed, still sprinting after a good five minutes. "Helga! Please, wait up!"
"Oh, poor baby can't keep up!"
Arnold groaned when she started to run faster, but she returned to the sidewalk, which was considerable easier to run on than the muddy ground. He finally began to pick up some ground on her. "Getting tired yet?"
"You wish, Hair Boy!" she yelled.
He shook his head. He was nearly even with her when Helga suddenly pulled up. "Ow, ow, ow, ow!" she cried.
Arnold tried to stop, but that was extremely difficult when he was still running at full speed. Too worried about Helga to pay much attention to anything else, Arnold did not notice when she stuck her leg out in front of him. All he knew was that he suddenly had a mouthful of mud.
"Oops," Helga said quietly behind him, without the least bit of sincerity.
Arnold pushed himself up and began to spit the mud out. Behind him Helga cried about how disgusting he was, so he turned and spit at her.
"Watch it!"
He sat down and glared up at her. "I thought you said no more physical abuse," he growled as he wiped his mouth off.
"That was comical abuse, and I didn't mean for you to land head-first."
"So how did you want me to land?" he snapped.
"I dunno. Didn't really think it through too much."
He threw a bit of mud at her. "Help me up, will ya?"
She shook her head violently. "Hell no. You'll pull me in." She began to pick the mud Arnold had thrown at her out of her hair.
"Helga, I'm not you. Now will you please help me up?"
She stared at him for a moment. "Fine." She grabbed his hand, and Arnold immediately pulled her in.
"Ugh!" Helga landed on her side. She sat up and hit him. "Jerk! You said you weren't like me."
He smirked. "Guess you're rubbing off on me."
"One can only hope." She paused. "You know, you're on to something there. You should start acting more like me. The world needs more Helga G. Patakis."
"Now that's a frightening thought. Helga, don't even joke about that."
"Jerk!" Helga cried, but she was silenced as Arnold threw more mud at her. "Would you stop that?"
His smiled widened. "C'mon. We got work to do." He stood up and began to walk away.
Helga threw a wad at him, hitting Arnold in the back of the head. "You gonna help me up or what?"
He laughed. "Helga, I'm not that stupid."
"Are you calling me stupid?" she cried.
"Not in so many words, Helga. Lighten up."
She growled and pushed herself up. "Now what, oh great master Obi-Won?"
He could not help but smile at her. Helga was covered head to toe in mud; it was caked in her hair and smeared across her face. She, however, had given up her previous attempts at femininity and was back to acting normal, thus oblivious to her appearance. "You've improved."
She shrugged. "So I've been running and am now in better shape." Her face broke out into an evil grin. "See, that's what happens when you go running and then relax at a club instead of going to a play and drinking rum and cokes all night. You stay in better shape."
He eyed her carefully. Arnold had forgotten two of the most important rules with Helga: she always knew more than she let on and she always knew everything about him. "How did you know that?" he asked slowly.
"I have my sources." She began to jog, saying nothing more.
"Did Lila tell you about it?" he asked, trying to remember just how much he told Helga about their date.
"Look, Shorty, this is my time. We can talk about your love life later."
"I'm taller than you," he muttered absentmindedly. He was left to wonder. Does she mean it's her time, meaning time to work on her skills and stuff, or her time with me? He stopped. Wait, am I wanting Helga to want to be around me?
She turned around, jogging in place as she stared at him. "Get the lead out, Arnoldo! There's no stopping when you're running with me."
"Right." He was thankful as Helga began to ramble on and on about their history teacher. He would be grateful for anything that kept his mind away from the subject of his feelings for Helga. After all, he was crazy about Lila, not Helga, but he could not help but be fascinated by her, and his thoughts began to drift to the many questions he had about Helga's home life as she continued talking. However, he was not ready to have them answered today.
The two had been jogging for nearly an hour, and Arnold had to admit he was having a good time (as odd as that sounded. A good time with Helga). He was talking to her about the battle of the bands when she stepped in a hole in the sidewalk and fell.
"Ow, ow, shit, OW!" she cried.
"Helga, not again. C'mon." He waited for her to get up.
"Do you honestly think I'm joking?" she snapped.
He knelt down. "You're really hurt? You're not faking it?" he asked as he touched her right ankle.
"OW! No, piss-for-brains, if I was faking, you'd be down here with me."
Good point. "Try to stand up."
Helga grimaced as she pushed herself off the wet pavement. She was nearly up when her leg gave out and she fell back down. Arnold grabbed her. "I got you."
"Well, I guess that means I can't walk on it." She smiled weakly at him. "No more running!"
He returned her look.
"Now what?"
"Well, I think we're pretty close to your car. Do you think you can walk there if I help you?"
"Yeah, I guess."
They limped slowly along, and Arnold managed to get Helga to her car without her falling again. He could already see her ankle was already swelling, and she still had her shoes and socks on. He opened the passenger side door and helped her in. "Here, you better take your shoes and stuff off." He shut the door and walked over to the other side.
"What are you doing?" Helga snapped as he sat down in the driver's seat.
"Driving you home. What does it look like?"
Her eyes widened. "Oh no, you are not driving my car!" She grimaced in pain as she tried to reach over to steal the keys from him.
"Helga! Watch it!"
"Where's your car?"
"I walked." He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "So, how do I get to your house?"
He watched as Helga's eyes, which had been glaring ahead, widened. "Uh, no one's home," she said quickly.
"Where are they?"
"Mayor's Easter egg hunt."
"Why didn't you go?"
"Do I look like the type of person to go to an Easter egg hunt thrown by a middle aged bald man?" She looked out the window. "I faked a stomach cramp."
He looked at her ankle. "Well, you need someone to take care of you."
She glared at him. "And what are you implying, Arnoldo Nightingale?"
"Well, if you aren't going to tell me how to get to your house, there's only one place I can take you."
"And where's that? The batting cages on Third Street?"
"No." He made a U-turn and quickly turned left. "My house."
¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤
Helga anxiously wiped her hands on her thighs. She was drenched in a cold sweat, not because of the running, but because of where Arnold was taking her. She was terrified of that house. She had not been in it in years, but all that came to her mind when she thought about Sunset Arms was all the crazy nights she spent there without Arnold's knowledge when she was a child. Of course it would be different now since Miles and Stella lived there, but that only made Helga's nerves worse.
Arnold must have noticed because he turned and asked her, "What's wrong? Helga, you're shaking."
"Doi, Hair Boy, like I didn't notice that." She bit down on her lip until she tasted blood; even then she did not stop.
Arnold's eyes filled with concern, and Helga thought her heart would burst. "Does it hurt that much?"
"Yeah," she muttered lamely. Think of something, girl! "Well, that and I'm tired and starving."
"Well, here we are. Mom's great with first-aid. You'll be better here pretty quick," Arnold said as he pulled up in front of Sunset Arms. He walked around the car and opened the door for her. Helga quickly wiped her hands one more time as he offered her his hand. "Can you walk or do I need to carry you?" he asked, smiling broadly.
"I'm fine," she snapped, but inside Helga was nearly exploding. She put her arm around Arnold as he helped her up the stoop. He had her sit down on the rail as he opened the door and let out a herd of various animals, led by Abner Jr. "Dad, I'm home!" Arnold called as he led Helga into the foyer.
Miles came down the stairs quickly at the sound of his only child's voice. Helga wondered what it would be like to have a parent that excited to see her on just an ordinary day. "Arnold, my boy, you're home early." He stopped at the bottom stair as he caught sight of Helga. "Hello." He eyed Arnold. "Who's your friend, Arnold?"
"Dad, this is Helga. Helga Pataki."
Miles cocked his head as he tried to remember her. "Oh, yes. Helga, the little blond. Nice to meet you again." He raised an eyebrow as he noticed Arnold's arm around Helga's waist.
Arnold rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. "Dad, Helga and I were running and she fell and twisted her ankle. Her parents are gone so I figured it would be best for Mom to take a look at it."
"Oh. Right. I'll go get her. She's out back with your grandparents." Miles disappeared.
Helga looked up at Arnold. "Your dad already has a pet name for me?"
"What? Oh, that." He smirked. "They tend not to forget anyone who gives them a discount on expensive items."
"Oh," Helga said, blushing deeply. Arnold helped her to the couch. "Sit here, the other seat's wet from the leak in the roof."
"Thanks," she said just as a voice yelled, "Eleanor Roosevelt! I must ask her to tea!"
"Oh God," Helga sighed as she buried her head in her hands.
Arnold stared at her, and Helga quickly realized her mistake. "No, Arnold, it's not that," she stammered. "I love your grandma and your family and your house. It's just…a very long story."
He continued to eye her, and Helga continued to practically hyperventilate. "I'll go get you some ice," he said finally.
"Thank you," Helga managed to say. Oh God, this is awful. Arnold thinks I'm ashamed to be in his house and around his family, my ankle is killing me, and … oh God, it's too much!
"Oh, you poor thing, look at you. You're shaking terribly," Stella said as she entered the room. Miles and Arnold followed her, and Helga swallowed hard to try to regain her composure, but she was finding that very difficult when being taken care of by the boy she had spent her life obsessing over and his family. "Miles, hand me the first aid kit."
"Looks like you took quite a tumble, kid," he said to Helga.
"Uh-huh," Helga said as Stella began to move her ankle. "OW!"
"Sorry." Stella continued to study her ankle. "Well, it looks like you have a pretty bad sprain. Arnold, give me the ice. Now we'll elevate it and ice it for twenty minutes, then I'll rap it and Arnold'll drive you home so you can rest. Is that okay?"
"Yes, thank you so much," Helga said as Arnold stuffed pillows under her leg.
"Arnold, why don't you go get Helga something to eat?" Stella asked Arnold.
"Yeah, we got more than enough food since it's Flag Day and all," Miles said. He followed Arnold out.
"Really, this is very nice of you. You don't know how much I appreciate it," Helga said to Stella.
Stella smiled down at her. "Helga, honey, you are welcome in this house anytime." She stood up and winked at Helga before leaving. "Grandma's especially fond of you." She paused. "And Arnold is as well."
Helga blushed deeply, but Miles quickly brought in a plate filled with sandwiches and fruit and vegetables. "That enough?"
"That's more than enough. Thank you."
He smiled as her as well, and quickly left. Helga felt out of place. She was never treated this nice. Well, she was treated nice at all the fancy restaurants and hotels and things her parents made her go to, but never out of pure kindness.
Arnold came back carrying a glass of lemonade and a cup of tea. He sat it on the table in front of Helga. "I brought you some lemonade, and Grandma wanted to make sure Eleanor got her tea."
Helga turned a deeper shade of red and buried her face in her food. He laughed loudly at her.
"This is your fault, you know," she hissed at him, trying to save what little dignity she had left with him.
"And how's that?"
"You made me run."
"I believe you were the one who ran off, Miss Pataki." He shook his head. "You shot off like a bat outta hell."
She grinned sheepishly. "I suppose, but it's still your fault."
They sat in silence for a few moments. "Oh, wait," Arnold cried, and he ran off. Helga watched him return with a handful of towels. "Sorry about all the mud, but a lot of that was your fault."
"I didn't jump in the mud, if I can recall correctly." She wiped her face off. "Thanks."
"No problem, but you did make me trip."
She shrugged. "So do all the same boarders still live here?"
"Hmm, Mr. Hyunh does, and his daughter Mai moved in with her husband. Ernie left about a year ago when he got married. The Kokoshkas left when Mom and Dad returned, and Mr. Loftus and Miss Jenkins moved in. Oh, and the Martinezes moved in. They're crazier than the Kokoshkas. A couple more have come and gone, but that's the lot of it. You gonna drink that?" Arnold asked, pointing to her lemonade glass.
"All yours," she said, handing it to him. "And tell your Grandma Eleanor loved the tea, and she'll have to join her next time."
Arnold smiled. "She'd love that, and we'd all love to have Eleanor come over more often."
Helga and Arnold both blushed, and they quietly focused on their food.
¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤
"Keep going straight."
Arnold sighed and did as he was told. He was driving Helga home, and he quickly realized he was finally going to find out where she lived. It was strange. It seemed as if by simply knowing that one fact he would suddenly understand everything about her. He glanced at her. She was still staring out the window. Maybe that's why she never wanted me to know. They drove through another two lights. "When am I supposed to turn?"
She sighed. "Ocean Avenue."
Ocean Avenue? He said nothing, but sat in utter shock. Helga lived on the most upscale street in all of Hillwood City, reserved for the elite of the elite, the crème de la crème. He snuck another glance at her. Her mood seemed to have quickly changed. She had seemed so happy and so at home at his house; now she seemed distant and reserved, pushing him away when they seemed to have gotten closer over the afternoon. He turned right and was quickly speechless at the buildings that put his old townhouse at Millen Creek to shame, and he hated to imagine what Sunset Arms would look like next to them. They continued in silence as Arnold stared wide-eyed at everything in front of him. "Arnold, for Pete's sake, it's only a street. Please don't wet yourself in my car."
He ignored her. Everything seemed to become more luxurious as they drove on. "Turn here," she said finally, and it seemed to pain her to do so. His jaw dropped as he saw the twin buildings in front of him. "You live in the Lamoure Towers?"
"Tower two," she said blandly.
The Lamoure Towers were owned by the family who had practically founded Hillwood City. They were the most powerful family in this half of Washington, and to live there you had to be very powerful in your own right.
He pulled up in front of the second tower. "Put it in park," she said simply.
A man quickly ran out of the building to Helga's side of the car. "Miss Pataki, now when did you get a chauffer?" he asked her as he helped her out of the car. "And what did you do to your ankle?"
"Marquis, this is my friend Arnold. He drove me home since I twisted my ankle."
"How sweet of him," Marquis said disdainfully. He looked Arnold up and down as he got out of the car and walked over to Helga and was clearly displeased at what he saw. Arnold guessed it was the fact that he was covered in mud, but Marquis did not seem to have a problem with Helga's similar look.
"Arnold will help me upstairs. I'll see you later."
"Yes, Miss Pataki. Have a good evening, Miss Pataki." Marquis shot Arnold one last look before getting in the car and driving away.
"I guess I'll have to remember my tux the next time I visit you," Arnold said, trying to cheer Helga up, but she just shook her head.
They walked together inside (the door was held open by another doorman, and there were more "Miss Pataki"s), and Arnold quickly led Helga to the elevator. He could tell she did not feel like talking to anyone. The man in the elevator took them up to the top floor. "Have a good evening, Miss Pataki. If you need anything, just call."
Helga said nothing. She's sputtering "thank you"s left and right at my house, but now she doesn't seem to give a damn, and they're doing a lot more for her. And damn, Helga lives in a penthouse!
"Well, now you know where I live," she said as they stopped in front of her door.
"Oh no, you ain't getting rid of me now. I've helped you all day, and I'll be damned if you just let me turn you over to your parents like this."
She stared up at him, and Arnold was floored to see tears begin to form in her brown eyes. "As you wish," she whispered, and she pushed the door open.
It was like nothing Arnold had ever seen. The place was nearly as big as his entire house, and he felt as if he had just stepped into a house on MTV's Cribs. It was beautifully and tastefully decorated, unlike the Sawyer household. He merely gaped, trying to take everything in.
"Arnold, do you mind not drooling on me?" Helga said, cutting through his thoughts.
"Olga, is that you?" Big Bob hollered from somewhere in the apartment. Arnold felt Helga's knees weaken. He looked down at her, confused at her reaction.
"I'm in the kitchen, Daddy!" Olga called.
"Not you, the other girl!"
"That's her, B. Who else would be coming in now?" Miriam snapped as she walked by, a martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other. "You must be feeling better," she said, and continued on, not noticing Helga's wrapped ankle.
"Where have you been, little lady?" he thundered as he entered the hall. "And who the hell are you?" he snapped at Arnold.
"Out, Dad, and this is Arnold. He drove me home."
"What'd you do, sneak out and get drunk? Goddamn it, Olga, if I've told you once I've told you a million times—"
"Like I drink. I sprained my ankle running, Bob. Arnold drove me home since I obviously can't."
Bob glared at Arnold. "You ain't expecting any reward, are ya boy? Cause you ain't getting one, that's for damn sure. This ain't no charity for orphan boys."
"Arnold did it as a favor to me!" Helga cried. She looked like his comment had caused her more pain than it had Arnold. "Not that he'd get anything anyway. He could have saved me from a rapist or a murderer and you'd still spit on him or any other rescuer of mine! Hell, you probably wish I had gotten drunk and drove myself home!"
"With an attitude like that, what father wouldn't?" He walked up to her and towered over her. "I give you everything in the world, and this is how you treat me?" He glanced at Arnold. "What was your name again?"
"Arnold," he managed to say.
"Right. Arnie, take her upstairs and then get the hell out. And if you dare lay a hand on her up there, I swear to God you'll find yourself in a potter's field—"
"C'mon, Arnold," Helga hissed, pulling him away from her father. She started to fall, and Arnold caught her and quickly took her up to her room. She sat on her bed, and he had no idea what to say to her. He did not stare at all the awards on her wall or imported furniture or any of her other possessions; he could only stare at her.
"Well, now you know," she whispered.
"Helga, I …" his words trailed off into nothingness. He stared at her. She looked so small sitting there alone. Helga was actually a tiny little thing, but her attitude generally made her seem a lot larger and scared the hell out of people. Well, this is certainly scaring the hell out of me.
She laughed coldly. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to complain about things when you live in a place like this?" She stared at him. "It's gotten worse with every year an every dollar. They don't notice me unless I do something wrong or something that deals with money. Like today with me skipping that stupid Easter egg hunt."
"They're always like that?"
"Pretty much. With Bob it's worse when he's been drinking…Miriam's wasted all the time so that doesn't really matter with her." She stopped when she saw the horrified look on Arnold's face. "He's never hit me. Come close a couple times, mainly when I egg him on, but being ignored has done its damage all the same."
Arnold turned his gaze away from her. It was almost too painful for him to look at her, now knowing and having seen the horrors of her home life, and he had a sinking feeling that he had only seen the surface. He picked up a picture of the Patakis at what he assumed was Olga's graduation.
"That's what I am expected to be."
He turned to her. "A picture frame?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.
"I'm expected to be just like Princess Olga. Beautiful, smart, charming, and ready to do whatever my father tells me to do. Keeping up with all the appearances and being the model daughter so Bob can show me off to all his partners and every damn upper-class family in this town." She laughed. "Wow, I only fit one of those, and I'm only smart about half the time."
"That's not true," Arnold muttered as he put the picture frame down.
Helga watched him carefully as he stared at the plaques on her wall. "Look, Arnold, I appreciate everything that you have done for me today, but it's late, and you should probably be getting home."
He looked at her. "You sure? I mean, Mom and Dad –"
"Are probably wondering why you haven't come home yet." She picked up her phone and quickly dialed. "Marquis, it's Helga. Can you do me a favor? Drive Arnold home. Yes. Yes. Yes. Thank you, and good night." She hung up the phone and looked up at him. "Marquis will drive you home. Just wait for him at the front desk."
Arnold stared at her, not ready to leave. She just glared back at him. "All right. Thank you." He walked over to her bed. "Lie back."
Helga's eyes grew as larges as saucers. "What are you doing?"
He sighed. "I'm trying to help you. Do you have to make things difficult? Now lie back and I'll put pillows under your bed so you can elevate your leg."
"Oh." Helga did what she was told. "Thanks."
He stepped back. "Um, I'll go get some ice for you."
"Do it and you'll be murdered." She smiled at him. "Ingrid, our housekeeper, can get it for me. Really, Hair Boy, you've done more than enough for me."
Arnold sure felt it was not enough, but it was clearly all she was going to let him do. "Fine. I'll be going then." He stepped closer to her, feeling as though he should do something more than just say good-bye, but he did not have a clue what. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Night, Helga."
"Buenas noches," she replied.
He quickly slipped out of her room and managed to get out of the penthouse without Big Bob noticing him (though the loud snoring from the living room meant he was probably asleep anyways). Arnold chose the stairwell to get downstairs. The guy in the elevator freaked him out, and he needed to think about things. God, why didn't I ever realize how hard she would have it at home. Big Bob and Miriam were never model parents, and of course they'd get worse as they got richer. He thought of his own home. Yes, they had nothing compared to the luxury that surrounded Helga's life and flooded her home, but he lived with people who cared about him, who would do anything for him, who loved him. That was certainly a lot more than Helga could say about her home.
He walked into the lobby, and sure enough Marquis was waiting by the desk, the same disgusted look on his face. "Hello, Mr. Arnold."
"Uh, hi," Arnold muttered nervously.
"Miss Pataki requested that I drive you home, yes?"
"That's what I was told." What is this guy up to?
"Yes. Miss Pataki is very charitable."
Arnold's eyes narrowed.
"But what Miss Pataki doesn't know won't hurt her, yes? Where do you live, Mr. Arnold?"
"Vine Street," he snapped. "Is it really that hard for you to follow an order?"
"Mr. Arnold, I don't take orders from you. Miss Helga was probably suffering some head trouble from her injury." He glared at Arnold. "Which probably was caused by you."
"I would never hurt her!"
"Miss Pataki is a debutante, Mr. Arnold. An heiress. She does not hang around street scum like you." His face parted in a smile. "And nor do I." He handed Arnold a wad of bills. "This should get you home."
Arnold stared at his hand. He was positive the amount of money in his hand was more than enough to pay for a taxi home. "You're paying me off?"
"Mr. Arnold, it is my job to look out for Miss Pataki's best interests, and I believe it would be in her best interests if you never stepped foot in this building again."
Arnold glared at him. "You know, I don't give a damn about that money. Most honest people wouldn't," he spat as he walked to the door. "And if you knew Helga half as well as you think you do, you would know that she wouldn't give a damn about it either!"
¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤
Arnold finally dragged himself up the stairs to Sunset Arms nearly two hours later. He had walked for a long time before he finally found a bus stop, and he changed buses twice before he found one that would get him anywhere near his house. He opened the door and weakly called, "I'm home."
His grandpa was the first to come to the door. "Well where in the Sam Hill have you been, Short Man?"
"Please, Grandpa, I don't want to talk about it."
"Oh, all right, but that cute little girl called for you about a half hour ago."
His face brightened. "Helga called?"
"No, no, no. Lulu, Lola, no, no, Leila—"
"Lila?"
"Yes, that's the one!" He watched Arnold carefully. "I thought she was the one you were courtin'."
"She is," Arnold said as he started up the stairs.
"Then who's Helga?"
"She's – she's a friend of mine, that's all." He sighed. "I was hoping she'd call. Helga's the girl that was here earlier."
"Eleanor?"
"Yeah, Eleanor." Why the hell does everyone call Helga "Eleanor"?
"Ah, yes, Eleanor. Fascinating young woman. Helluva First Lady." He hit Arnold's back a few times. "Well, you better get to calling your lady friend. She sounded like she really wanted to talk to you."
"Right. Thanks Grandpa."
"No problem, Short Man."
Arnold went up to his room and threw himself on his bed. He stared at the stars. So Lila's really starting to come around. He laughed. Look's like Helga's plan is working. Arnold stared at the phone for a while, debating rather or not he should call Lila. He sighed. She can wait until tomorrow. If I called her now, I'd just be thinking about Helga the whole time. It's generally not a good idea to talk to one girl you like while thinking about the other. There certainly is a lot more to Helga than meets the eye.
He sat up. But she was always like that, even when we were younger. He laughed. I guess I got what I wanted. Helga's here for me again.
But what she really needs is someone to be there for her.
A/N: Best CDs I've been playing non stop – Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard, Story of the Year's Page Avenue, and Maroon 5's Songs about Jane. Music is a wonderful thing, and do you understand where I got Helga's street from? Haha, later days.