Good morning, Journal!
You may notice that I'm especially chipper this entry; mostly because today is finally the day of the school dance. Ordinarily I'd think something like this was idiotic and an entirely stupid event to look forward to, but since Arnold and I began dating, I'm finding that I actually LIKE going to these lame social things.
But so what? It isn't like that suddenly makes me some incredibly girly, totally obsessed with my looks that I wear make-up every day just to impress everyone around me type of girl or anything. Who cares if I suddenly like going to these things and dressing up on occasion? It doesn't CHANGE anything. In fact, the only thing that has changed is my feelings regarding things like school dances or parties.
I guess I just like dressing up for these things so Arnold can look at me and smile that dopey grin of his so I can snap at him for staring at me. Of course, after I snap at him he'll tell me how beautiful I look and then I can snap at him again for embarrassing me even though I'm not really embarrassed because that was the reaction I was waiting for in the FIRST place...
Alright, so it's a complicated feeling that is accompanied by even more complicated emotions. Big whoop. I'm still the same old Helga G. Pataki.
Anyway, today is going to be pretty busy in preparation for the dance. I heard that Rhonda is having a 'pre-dance-soiree' (whatever THAT means) with all of the other fellow girls with dates. Well, not really ALL of the other girls with dates seeing as it was 'highly exclusive' and only for girls with 'extraordinary taste' and a 'passion for discussing important social topics' which I'm sure is code for the latest gossip with a dash of celebrity tabloid talk.
Whatever it happens to be, Phoebe and I will not be attending. Sure, we weren't exactly invited, but even if we HAD been we still wouldn't have gone. As far as I know the people going to Rhonda's thing aren't just getting ready at her over-the-top mansion, but prior to the dance their dates will show up so everyone can take pictures and frankly that is NOT my kind of thing.
It will be a miracle if I can somehow escape my own home without Olga shoving at least one camera in my face for a picture I'm not interested in taking. I can't even imagine having to be forced to pose for a zillion different pictures until 'the angle is just right' for Miss Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd.
So Phoebe is planning to come over and get ready with me here at my house even though I begged to go to hers instead. Honestly I think it's because she wants to cash in on my sister's older-womanly fashion and make-up tips so she can look her best for Gerald.
You know, it's kind of funny to me how Arnold and I got together before Phoebe and Gerald made their relationship official. Sure, I've liked Arnold for years upon years, but it as far as Arnold goes he didn't like me in that way for almost all of it. Phoebe and Gerald on the other hand are completely different. From what I know of Gerald from Arnold and Phoebe from my own experience, both of them have had feelings for each other at the same time the ENTIRE time.
I am happy for Phoebe to finally be with him like she's always talked about but if I'm being completely honest?
I think she could do better than Tall Hair Boy.
But what do I know anyway?
I mean, look at me for instance. I'm dating the most perfect, whole-hearted, selfless and compassionate person in the entire universe. Arnold is everything that I, given my past and all that other junk, will probably never be capable of being- at least not to the extent that he is. If it's ANYBODY in our little group of friends who could do better than who they're dating, it's Arnold Shortman. I'm not worthy of his love, I'm just lucky.
Lucky or not though, I'm going to try and be worthy of his affections. As much as I hate to admit it, I begged Olga to take me shopping for a dress I deemed 'me enough' to wear to the dance tonight. Even though the one I'd wanted came with spaghetti straps and the one we bought has a halter top, it does the trick and makes me look like a refined adult, minus the boobs. Maybe having a flat chest is a good thing for this dress, even. I mean, I wouldn't want to have the dress be uncomfortable. So I guess I'll thank the powers that be for making me practically flat as a board.
The only downside of asking Olga to buy me my dress was that I had to give her permission to help with a 'makeover' for Phoebe and me. Of course when I told Phoebe this, she was stoked at such an idea but me... not so much.
But if a makeover helps me prove that I'm good enough for Arnold however, then I guess it's worth it in the end.
As for Arnold (and Gerald I guess for Phoebe's sake) I have no clue what kind of attire they're planning to wear for this little shindig. I'm sure Gerald will show up in some weird combination of clothes and accessories he read online are supposed to 'impress the ladies' but Arnold... he's a little trickier to decipher in terms of motivation and overall application. Geraldo tends to try and drag Arnold along with his picking-up-chicks schemes but since Arnold and I are dating now, I wonder if he'll follow-through with whatever Tall Hair Boy has cooked up.
I just thought of something though... what if I'm too overdressed? My dress is all glittery and formal almost and I'm pretty sure this isn't a formal but it isn't like there was a dress code for this stupid dance thing. I guess I just assumed it was something you get really dressed up for.
Cripes, just listen to me! It's like the essence of Rhonda Lloyd has overtaken me and is forcing me to think about things I've never once considered before! Criminy! Who even AM I anymore?!
Just relax, Helga ol' girl. The dance is going to be FINE and Arnold will think you look AMAZING and everything will just. be. FINE.
I mean, at least I THINK it will... won't it?
Better start getting ready though. I'm sure Arnold and Gerald are getting ready by now too seeing as they have to come pick us up at my house so we can all go to the dance. I hope Miles is driving. I'm sure he'll be in total dad-mode trying to stay cool with us kids while secretly sliding in some parental wisdom on us all. What a goon. Like father like son I guess!
Here's hoping the Hair-Boy-Twin-Wonders are just as nervous and overthinking things like I am,
Helga G. Pataki
Gently closing her journal, Helga sighed deeply as she moved to place it on her nightstand rather than put it in the usual hiding place underneath her mattress. She figured that the moment she returned from the dance she would want to document all that took place and it made sense to leave it within reach so she wouldn't forget.
Just then, the doorbell of the Pataki household rang through to penetrate the four walls of Helga's room. Giving herself a nod in reassurance that going to this dance was a good idea after all, she pushed herself up to stand from the bed and made her way out of the room to get the door downstairs.
"Don't worry. I'll get it," she hollered out to her parents who could care less and her sister who was temporarily missing, though Helga didn't mind.
By the time she made it down the stairs, however, Olga had reappeared from the direction of the kitchen and flitted over to the door so she could open it to a nervous-looking Phoebe.
"Why, hello Olga. It's nice to see you again," the dark-haired young adult greeted the beaming woman who stood before her.
"Phoebe!" Olga called the girl by name in an enthusiastic tone. "It's been so long!"
Standing behind her, Helga crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes while muttering, "Not long enough..."
Turning her head to look at her, Olga eyed Helga curiously. "Did you say something, baby sister?"
Offering the cheesiest grin she could muster, Helga replied in a sugary sweet voice. "It really has just been too long."
Taking her sister at face value, she accepted the answer and returned her attention to Phoebe who had a blue dress in a dry-cleaner's bag draped across her arms where she stood on the stoop just outside the door. Helga could see through the shiny plastic that the dress was something that reminded her of the 90's fashion choices. The fabric appeared to be almost like satin and the design she could make out seemed to fit with the theme of traditional oriental.
Pulling Helga's concentration back to reality, Olga gestured for Phoebe to enter the household while beginning to talk excitedly. "Are you girls ready to primp and pamper yourselves for your little school dance tonight?" Olga asked as she shut the door behind Phoebe.
"I for one have been anticipating this night for an extended period of time, now." The small girl's words were soft, almost nervous, but the smile on her face proved how excited she was for the night's activities. "Thank you again for offering to help us with our make-up and hair, Olga."
With a delicate wave of her hand, Helga's sister led the way up the stairs towards her room while continuing to talk to the pair who were quite literally following in her footsteps. "It's my honor to help my dear baby sister and her little friend! The two of you are growing up to be quite the young ladies..." she turned around to wink at Helga who groaned almost inaudibly.
The three women rounded the corner to enter Olga's room which was brightly lit in preparation for the imminent makeover. While Phoebe beamed in sheer excitement, Helga's eyes met that of the various cosmetics cluttering Olga's vanity. From where she stood, she counted three mascaras, two eye shadow pallets, six different lipsticks, three lip glosses, two eyeliners and a bunch of bottles with what she assumed were a medley of foundations in order to find the correct shade for each of the young girls.
It was practically Helga's worst nightmare.
Sure, she'd worn makeup before but it was either for a play she was participating in or the time she gave herself a makeover thanks to the tips and tricks of the latest Preteen Miss magazine. Despite for a character or to fit in with her peers, Helga despised wearing makeup. In her opinion, it was something of another mask one was expected to wear to impress people around her instead of being her true authentic self. As far as Helga was concerned, she already had to wear a mask most days. Why then should she voluntarily add another one of top of the mask society forced her to wear so she could act like any of the other mindless drones that surrounded her?
Helga had voiced her opinion on makeup countless times, her most recent mere days ago to Phoebe herself when the idea to let Olga 'beautify' the two of them was first brought up. To her horror, Phoebe voted against Helga in favor of the makeover and ever since then, the blonde preteen hadn't been looking forward to what was sure to be a painful few hours.
Even so, she told herself that it was for Arnold and she was determined to make his jaw drop the moment he saw her. She hoped that with her fancy red dress (though alike to Phoebe's in more ways than she'd like to admit) and the gunk Olga was about to paint on her face that she would turn a few heads; one of them being the football-head of her affections. If she could get Arnold's attention out of this then it was sure to make it worth the additional time she was being forced to spend with her nauseating older sister.
"What are you still doing in the doorway, silly?" Olga asked her younger sibling who was promptly dragged out of her thoughts and back into reality by the question. "You get to be first in the makeup chair! And then we can work on that rat's nest on top of your head!"
Olga giggled at her joke while Helga stared at her with a blank expression. After a beat, she cleared her throat and spoke up while taking a few additional steps into the room. "Why don't you work on Phoebe first?"
The excited Pataki's face fell and she rushed to where Helga stood only to set both hands on her shoulders while beginning to question her younger sibling's motives behind such a suggestion. "But why, Helga? Have you changed your mind?"
Positive that tears were sure to begin forming if Helga so much as uttered the wrong thing, she tread carefully while cooking up an excuse to use. "No, no it's just... well... I uh—I thought that you might want to uh... you might want to save me for last? You know?"
A perfectly plucked eyebrow raised in confusion as Helga's explanation. "Save you for last?"
"Yeah, like, I don't know. I guess I thought you might want to make me up last to like... honor the sacred sister tradition of getting me ready for my first dance or whatever. That sentimental kinda junk you love so much."
Tears welled in Olga's eyes as she squeezed her sister's shoulders. "Helga, my sweet, thoughtful baby sis. Yes. Yes I want to save you for last! I didn't realize such a tradition was something you cared very much about."
"Oh I don't care at all," Helga clarified without much emotion in her voice. "I just figured that you might."
Olga's manicured hand reached up to pinch at Helga's cheek which she was quick to swat away. Despite her efforts, the action didn't seem to bother the older Pataki daughter who merely leaned over to plant a sloppy, wet kiss on Helga's forehead before turning around to join Phoebe at the vanity.
After wiping away the excess saliva and lipstick that lingered on her forehead, Helga took a seat on Olga's bed to watch as she fixed Phoebe's hair and makeup with painstaking detail. Eyes fixated on her friend being made to look much older than she was, Helga's mind took off onto the road of overthinking.
Is this all worth it? Truly? The thoughts spun around in her head as she tried to piece together an answer for the question her own brain had posed to her. Will Arnold even notice that I've done my hair and face to look like some super model's? He knows that isn't me so I'm sure he'll notice. Then again... the kid is more dense than anybody else I know so who's to really say what he will or will not notice.
Trying to refocus her attention onto something that would get her in the mood of a big outing such as the school dance, Helga shook her head like an etch-a-sketch and instead began imagining what Arnold might be doing.
Perhaps he was digging through his own closet to find something suitable to wear. Suitable, Helga's thoughts hung on the word as a small smile began to tug at her lips. Maybe he'll wear a suit. A suit and tie. Or- Oh! Even better yet, a tux that's flashy and mature. With slicked back hair and a matching bow-tie.
The preteen chewed on her lower lip as she envisioned such a look. Immediately her mind took off with such an idea. Arnold will show up at my doorstep in a tux that rivals that of James Bond. Of course I'll answer the door because I'll have been expecting him. There I'll stand in my elegant red-as-my-lips dress. Naturally, since I'm freakin' gorgeous, Arnold will stare and practically lose his breath. Those beautiful, effervescent emerald eyes will soak up my beauty as I stand before him awaiting him to speak.
"Arnold?" I'll ask in a smoky sort of jazz-singing breathy voice. "What do you think?"
He'll shake himself out of his daydreaming and meet my eyes with his. "Helga, my love, you are absolutely stunning. Why, you look perfect."
"Oh, stop," I'll say with a delicate wave of my hand and he does. Of course I'll eye him and demand he continue. "Don't actually stop, football-head, criminy."
With a smile on his perfectly featured face, he'll rush inside to sweep me up in his arms. "Helga G. Pataki, you are the most beautiful creature this planet, or any other for that matter, has ever seen."
"Am I?" I'll ask, even though I know I am because, well, I'm Helga G. Pataki- DOI.
"Of course, my darling. Nobody compares to you."
"Not even," my head turns to look away from him with a dramatic intake of my breath as I close my eyes in pain at the suggestion, "Lila?"
"Shh," Arnold will sound as he reaches up to place a lone finger upon my lips to silence me from speaking her name. "She is nothing compared to you, my sweet."
"But you once liked her liked her. I cannot simply pretend that didn't happen." At last, I'll set my eyes on his and the moment they meet, a spark will fill our souls.
Arnold's face will fall into an expression of shame and guilt. "Alas, I cannot lie to you. Yes, I had feelings for Lila a long time ago but you, Helga G. Pataki, are all that I want. All that I ever want and nobody, especially not Lila Sawyer could sever my love for you."
"Oh, Arnold!" I'll say, breathlessly.
"Helga!" He'll exclaim.
The two of us will come together in a passionate kiss, one that makes my heart skip a beat inside of my chest. As if we were in an old black-and-white film, romantic music swells around us as our lips press against one another's. The sheer force of the kiss will then send us into a wild frenzy and before we know it, we're-
"All done!" Olga announced proudly as Phoebe emerged from the chair she'd been sitting in.
Helga blinked her eyes rapidly a few times in order to clear her mind. Making a mental note to herself about keeping her daydreams G-rated when in public, she pushed herself up to stand from where she'd been sitting on Olga's bed. "You're done already?"
"Of course, silly willy," Olga answered in a baby voice that made Helga's jaw clench in an effort to stop her from saying something she may regret. "Makeup should be fun and easy, especially for girls your age. Just a little cover-up, blush, eye-shadow, mascara and sometimes eyeliner do the trick perfectly. Oh! And a matching shade of lipstick with a touch of lip gloss for shine, of course!"
Rushing to where Helga stood, Phoebe approached her in utter glee. "Can you believe it, Helga? I look, how the kids would say, 'banging!'"
An involuntary laugh escaped Helga's mouth though she was quick to stop it and explain herself. "First off, Phoebe, you are a kid. Second off, I wish I had actual footage of you using the word 'banging' and third," Phoebe's eyes watched Helga in complete anxiety. With a big sigh, Helga smiled down to her friend and delivered her final point. "You look great, Pheebs. Really. Gerald's a lucky guy."
Letting out a squeal, Phoebe hugged Helga tightly which took the blonde girl by surprise. Just as soon as the hug had started however, it was over and Phoebe rushed over to where her blue dress hanged in the plastic dry-cleaner's bag on the back of Olga's bedroom door.
"I'm just going to try on my dress," she informed while simultaneously grabbing her garment and running off in pursuit of the bathroom to change. As the Pataki sisters watched her exit the room, they watched her in completely different ways; Olga with joy and Helga with a mix of confusion and a sense of pride for Phoebe.
Helga knew that much of her friend's sudden fervor for a lame school dance came from Gerald finally asking her out. As much as the tall-haired-boy drove Helga crazy on most occasions, it made her happy to see her best friend so cheerful. Maybe I'll stop giving Geraldo such a hard time, she thought to herself before dismissing the idea entirely. Tall-hair-boy needs a reality check every once in a while, Helga decided before catching Olga's eyes which were anxiously watching her.
"Yes?" Helga snapped to her sister who simply smiled and gestured for her to come sit where Phoebe had been just moments ago.
"It's your turn, baby sis."
Shock-waves danced up Helga's spine as her moment came to doll herself up courtesy of the ever perfect, Olga Pataki. Hesitantly, she walked towards where her sister stood awaiting her and took a seat in front of the bright lights that surrounded the mirror of Olga's vanity.
"You ready?" The older Pataki asked her sister.
"Do your worst," Helga managed to say while staring at her reflection which looked back at her just as intensely. While she wasn't entirely sure what she would come out of this looking like, she knew that Olga wouldn't do a bad job. As much as she hated her sister, Helga had seen the makeup Olga had done for Phoebe and it really didn't look all that bad- Gerald would be please no doubt and probably say some ridiculous pick-up-line he'd read on some website somewhere.
Even so, Phoebe looked great and she hoped that her sister could make her look just as good, if not better. After all, if Helga was going to keep Arnold and make sure he wasn't going to leave her for Lila, a little make-up couldn't hurt.
Right?
"Right?" Gerald asked his football-headed friend while straightening the navy blue tie he'd had his own father tie for him. Gerald, prior to tonight, actually had no idea how the knot worked on ties and it had only taken roughly five minutes of trying before he had to call upon Mr. Johanssen to help him. Soon after, he'd left his house for The Sunset Arms where Arnold had been patiently awaiting him.
Still waiting patiently for him, Arnold stood behind Gerald who was looking himself over in the mirror with frightened eyes. The blonde boy watched his friend as he incessantly continued to try and smooth out the mildly wrinkled silver dress shirt he wore which he'd paired with dark black dress pants. With a half-lidded gaze, Arnold looked on with the knowledge that Gerald was clearly worried about his first date with Phoebe. Silently, he thanked his lucky stars that he and Helga had been together for so long that it alleviated the need for nerves and constant questioning over what to wear.
With a small smile, Arnold finally answered Gerald's previous question. "Right. Phoebe isn't going to care about the wrinkles on your shirt, Gerald."
"Yeah. No, yeah you're definitely right, man." He reached up to tug at the knot of the tie to accommodate his neck and allow himself to swallow hard.
"Seriously, Gerald. You look just fine and Phoebe will just be happy to see you, I promise," Arnold encouraged as his best friend nodded his head rapidly while taking in the information.
Finally tearing his eyes away from his own reflection, Gerald turned his head to look at Arnold who was standing just behind him. "Tell me something, Arnold," he began while looking his oddly-shaped-headed friend up and down. "How is it that I'm the one nervous here? Hmm?"
Offering a small chuckle and glancing down at the green converse he was wearing to match his green dress shirt, khaki pants and dark gray tie, Arnold shrugged. "I guess I'm just not worried because Helga and I have been dating for a while. There's not really a need to be nervous, I suppose."
"Mm mm MM!" Gerald hummed with a minimal shake of his head. "How the tables have turned, am I right?"
A sudden knock on Arnold's bedroom door interrupted the pair and they turned around respectively to see Miles peeking his head into the room with a knowing grin. "How's it going, boys? You ready for your first school dance?"
With a gulp, Gerald nodded his head and forced a weak smile. "Couldn't be more ready."
"Really?" Miles asked as he took a few steps further into his son's room. "Because it kinda looks like you might be sick, Gerald."
Watching his friend for a moment, Arnold then raised his arm and set a supportive hand onto Gerald's shoulder. "He's fine, right Gerald? Just a little nervous about his date with Phoebe."
"Helga's friend?" the football-headed boy's father pressed for information. "So it's kind of like a double date then, huh?"
"I mean, I guess," his son responded though Miles was lost in his own thoughts.
"I remember your mom and mine's first double date," Miles said with a reminiscent glimmer in his eyes as they focused out passed the two boys onto a memory that seemed far away. "We went out with one of her friends and her date to some local restaurant in Argentina."
"Argentina?" Gerald asked with mild interest.
"Oh yeah. Excellent food but..." he let out a quiet laugh while looking away from whatever it was he'd been recalling and looked down at his feet in embarrassment. "Well, let's just say food poisoning can be one heck of a mood killer."
"Dad...!" Arnold scolded in hopes to stop his father from continuing the story at this particular moment in time.
"Right- you're absolutely right, Arnold," Miles agreed while holding up a lone hand apologetically. "You guys will have a great time without the threat of explosive diarrhea, I'm sure."
The two boys expressions morphed into one of disgust and Miles' eyes widened at his realization of what he'd allowed to slip passed his lips. "Too much information. Right. Well! You two ready to pack it in and head for the Patakis so we can pick up your dates?"
"Ready as I'm ever gonna be," Gerald announced while exhaling somewhat dramatically. "You lead the way, Mr. Shortman."
"Gerald," Miles said as the two exited and began walking down the stairs that led away from Arnold's room. "I thought we were on a first name basis by now."
"Oh, sure," the boy replied, though his voice was getting softer as he distanced himself from where Arnold now stood inspecting himself in the mirror. "I just figured the moment called for some... old school formality like in one of those 1950's sitcoms my mom's always watching."
Arnold didn't bother to listen to the rest of his father and his best friend's fleeting conversation and instead honed in on the reflection staring back at him. Looking himself up and down, Arnold sighed as his previously cheerful expression soured to one of worry. Concern had suddenly consumed the blonde boy's thoughts as he stood awkwardly in front of the full-length mirror and it didn't take long for Miles to realize his son wasn't following him and Gerald like he'd assumed he would.
After telling Gerald to go ahead and wait in the car, Miles turned around and made his way back up the stairs. Quietly, he re-entered Arnold's room where he found his son blankly watching himself in the reflective glass he now stood in front of.
"You coming, Arnold?" Miles asked softly, trying not to startle his son though he still flinched at the disruption from his deep thought process. Shoving his hands into the pockets of the pants he wore, Miles took a few careful steps towards Arnold who was still watching himself in the mirror. "You wouldn't want to be late and make the girls wait. Plus, I think any longer and Gerald may lose his nerve."
Without looking away from himself, Arnold nodded his head slowly and offered a weak smile. "Sure, dad. I'll be right there."
Taking a few more steps until he was directly beside his son, Miles watched his boy curiously. "Something wrong, son?"
A pause filled the air before Arnold decided to answer his father. "No. Not really."
"Not really, huh?" Miles repeated while looking at Arnold out of the corner of his eye. "Kinda sounds to me like there's something wrong."
Letting out a heavy sigh, Arnold pulled his gaze away from the reflection and focused his eyes downward to the floor he stood on. "It's Helga, I guess," he admitted, his voice just above a whisper. "She's been acting really weird and paranoid lately and it's been really hard to deal with."
"Have you talked to her about how she's been acting?" Miles suggested and Arnold nodded his head a few times before explaining further.
"A few times, actually," Arnold elaborated in an almost exhausted tone of voice. "It's like she doesn't believe me though. I don't really know what else I can say to convince her that I'm not secretly seeing someone else and planning to break-up with her."
"You know, Arnold, she's still young just like you. You both haven't really dated before so all of this is new territory." Miles' voice was calm, cool and collected as he spoke to the confused boy who seemed to be growing up before his eyes. "You're both still learning."
"I know, it's just that..." his voice trailed off before Arnold pulled his eyes from the mirror to turn and look up at his father who returned the boy's look with kind eyes full of understanding. "It's just that sometimes it feels like maybe we're too young to be dating this seriously, you know? I mean, I really do like Helga. I like her like her a lot but it really feels like Helga doesn't believe or trust me and it just makes our relationship feel strained and too hard to deal with sometimes."
"And does she know that? Have you told her all of this?" Miles pressed and Arnold sighed while shaking his head.
"No, not exactly."
Miles turned to face his son completely and set each of his hands atop the young boy's shoulders while maintaining direct eye-contact. "Relationships are hard work, Arnold. They take time and patience and plenty of nurturing in order for them to succeed but above all, they require trust from both parties. Now, personally, as much as I like Helga, I do think that the two of you might still be a bit too young to begin navigating the unpredictable and sometimes dangers waters of love-"
"I never told you I loved her, dad," Arnold interrupted but Miles held up one of his hands from the boy's shoulders in an effort to stop him from going on.
"At your age it's easy to latch onto feelings and consider them love, you know. That's not to say your feelings for each other aren't real, but regardless of a simple crush or love itself," he said softly before continuing, "I know that I may think you both are too young, but I also trust your judgment because you're a smart kid, Arnold. I know you'll make the right decisions for yourself in addition to Helga."
"Is this dad-code for saying you think I should break up with her?" The football-headed boy asked and Miles smiled before dropping his hands from Arnold's shoulders and turned his son to face his own image once again in the mirror. As they stood before the looking glass, Arnold in front as Miles stood just behind him, the father and son looked at the reflection of two generations staring back at them.
"The only thing I want you to do, Arnold, is be happy and if that means staying with Helga because she adds to your general happiness, then you should do that." Arnold nodded his head while watching his father's reflection talk. "However, if your relationship is causing you stress and not adding to your well-being, I think you should reconsider it. That's all."
Arnold pursed his lips as he considered all that his father had just told him. Averting his eyes from his father's which looked at him through the mirror, Arnold spoke up almost defensively. "I really do like her though, dad. And I... I-I don't want to ruin what we've worked so hard on. If she would just believe me and stop acting so-so jealous all the time-"
"Ahh, but you see, we can't make people change just because we want them to, can we." Miles' words were a statement rather than a question and didn't require an answer from the boy. After a small pause, Miles added, "Even if we think it would benefit the other person, we can't make people act the way we think they should."
"I wouldn't make Helga do anything," Arnold said softly. "I just really want to be with her and there's a part of me that thinks we might be... I don't know, meant to be together or something. Someday." With a shake of his head, Arnold looked down at his feet once more. "I guess that sounds stupid, huh?"
"Not stupid at all," Miles validated with a warm and genuine smile. "Look, I'm not saying you have to break up, Arnold. All I'm saying is that maybe you should look at your relationship and consider what's best for the both of you. And even if you do choose to end things between the two of you, it doesn't mean you can never get back together should things change."
Keeping his head down, Arnold shifted only his eyes to look up at his father's reflection once again. "I guess you're right."
"If you do decide to break things off," Miles said earnestly, "just remind yourself that it doesn't have to be forever... it's just for now."
Mulling over Miles' sage advice, Arnold thought for a while before his father patted his shoulders a couple of times and gestured towards the door leading out of his bedroom. "C'mon. We'd better get going before Gerald has a nervous breakdown in the car waiting for us," Miles suggested with a wink to his son and while Arnold returned his wink with a smile, he couldn't help but feel even more conflicted than he had before his father's nugget of wisdom.
If he were to break up with Helga, how would he know when it was the right time? He didn't want to just do it without a good enough reason and most importantly, he didn't want it to come out of the blue and break Helga's heart. She may appear to be solid as stone on the outside, but Arnold knew firsthand that on the inside, Helga G. Pataki was as soft and sensitive as they come.
As they loaded the Shortman's vehicle after at last saying goodbye to Stella, Arnold's grandparents and the rest of the boarders, Arnold listened as Gerald blathered on about his conflicting confidence and concerns when it came to the dance and Phoebe. All the while, he couldn't help but feel like tonight would either the best or the worst night of his life. At the very least, Arnold Shortman hoped that whatever unfolded tonight would give him some kind of clear direction as to what he should do regarding his relationship with one Helga G. Pataki.
More than anything, though, Arnold remained optimistic that no matter what happened at the school dance, if they were meant to be together nothing could break the two of them up- not even the big green monster of jealousy itself.
The next upcoming months are going to be incredibly busy for me as I am starting a new job and working pretty heavily at my part-time job in addition. I do and will continue to try and update this story fairly regularly (typically on Friday nights/Saturdays so check back on those days). My goal is to update at the very least every two weeks but either way, be sure to follow this story so you don't miss a single update! I can ALSO promise i won't put this story on hiatus again because I really do have a pretty clear idea of where this story is headed.
Thanks again and please do me a solid and leave me a review telling me what you thought! I appreciate any and all feedback!
xo
Polka