IMPORTANT A/N AT END, PLEASE READ!
The late-May day was warm despite a growing wind that blew gusts of air around the seventh-grade class that had opted to go outside rather than stay in the lunchroom. Each year on the last day of school, Hanson Middle School celebrated with an outdoor barbecue hosted by their Principal and Vice Principal. They each donned silly aprons with typical phrases one may find funny enough to give as a gag-gift.
That's the type of apron Miles would wear, Helga found herself thinking. Even though it had been months since she had attended a family dinner, the wound still felt fresh and she huffed at the reminder of the family she was no longer a part of. At least not like she had been, anyway.
Phoebe and Helga had eaten their burgers from inside the lunchroom, however once they finished, Phoebe led the way outside to the fresh air awaiting them. Within seconds, they ran into Gerald which made Helga feel like nothing more than a third wheel. Excusing herself from the couple, she wandered passed the grilling educators in the direction of the grassy, steep hill just ahead. At the bottom, a small group of rowdy boys goofed around; their laughs traveling passed the open football-field and up to Helga's ears. Letting out a soft sigh, she balanced herself partway down the hill before lowering to sit down upon the green grass below.
Outstretching her arms to rest behind her, she leaned back into the palms of her hands while tilting her head upwards. Softly shutting her eyes as the sun rained down on her, Helga focused on the way the wind felt as it danced over her soft skin to create ripples of goosebumps sprouting from her flesh. It felt like pin-pricks, her goosebumps, and though the sun's rays were warm like an intense fire, the wind managed to chill her to the bone.
Fluttering her eyes open, she took a deep breath while focusing her attention out towards the imbeciles on the field at the base of the hill. Harold's familiar booming laughter erupted as he pointed towards Sid who was grasping at the waistband of his pants. Raising her brow, Helga glanced over to where another one of their classmates pawed at the long-nosed boy in an effort to finish yanking his jeans off of his lanky frame.
And while she couldn't make out the exact words the group of boys were shouting to one another amid their chortling, Helga knew she didn't need to hear it. They were boys—stupid boys at that. Helga figured that in situations like the one she was witnessing was the only time the phrase 'boys will be boys' should be used, and even then, it seemed like hardly a good excuse for such rudimentary behavior.
After all, Helga knew quite well that not all boys fit into that category of immaturity. There were some… a few… one boy who did not fit that genre at all—at least not in her mind.
Trying to ignore the sentimental thoughts that were already bubbling inside her head, Helga turned to look back at the cluster of students still atop the hill. Her eyes scanned over the bodies in search for Phoebe's, only to find her back in the corner with Gerald—their hands locked with one another while Gerald told a tale with significant gusto. Phoebe stood quietly by his side, her eyes glimmering upward to gaze in adoration at his face, a soft smile on her lips.
Helga was happy for her best friend, she really was. Phoebe deserved to be with someone who genuinely cared about her, and from everything she knew about their relationship, Gerald really seemed to be a good fit. He may annoy the crud out of her sometimes, but if it was anybody who treated Pheebs the way she deserved, it was Tall Hair Boy.
Just as her eyes dropped from the couple's figures and began to resume skimming over the remaining teenagers surrounding her, her eyes were hung up on the one person she hadn't hoped to find.
Arnold.
"Oh crap," she whispered to herself out loud, though her eyes refused to move from his silhouette. "I gotta sign that stinkin' yearbook already…"
But try as she might, Helga's mind refused to think about the task she had yet to complete. Instead, her eyes inspected the boy's facial features as he laughed at a joke one of their classmates was telling him. He seemed so happy, a glow about him that was also dimmed in a way Helga could neither understand, nor explain. She watched as the wind swirled about; his hair moving carelessly with the breeze like lush fields of wheat on the open prairie. The blue of his hat peeked out from his blonde locks, a blue now faded from years of wear and tear precariously placed atop his oddly-shaped head.
Shifting down, Helga's eyes drifted over his facial features, memorizing each detail of the face she saw each night from behind her lids while tossing and turning. Her mind fixated on his lips, the way they moved as he spoke and the way she remembered them feeling against hers on the few occasions they had kissed. How she had treasured each moment that their lips touched, no matter how briefly. The brush of his lips against hers was like a drug that she craved every minute of every day.
Those lips, so sweet, she found herself thinking. The elixir of mine own life…
As Arnold stopped talking to the person Helga hadn't even cared enough to notice, the football-headed boy turned to catch a glimpse of his admirer. Even though she knew he was looking at her, Helga ceased to care and instead found herself lost in his gaze. Rather than acknowledge it, or him for that matter, she maintained her gaze as her thoughts wandered in awe.
Emeralds, she noted, eyes like the fauna of a jungle we once knew. Like that of my long-forgotten memories, he sweeps me away with each glance, each moment that our eyes connect. How I see you, how I long to breathe you in, my sweet love. How I—
"Hey, Helga!" Arnold called out while waving to her as he jogged in her direction.
Widening her eyes in realization of what her mindless staring had done, Helga immediately snapped her head to look in the opposite direction with the hope he might not notice. Stupid eyes, she silently scolded herself. I have to avoid those idiotic…. Gorgeous eyes. Vowing that she wouldn't make eye contact with him again, she kept her head turned away though she could feel him growing near. After a beat, she opted to acknowledge his existence, though refusing to match his dangerously debonair eyes again.
"Oh. Arnold. I uh," she began to stutter out an excuse as she fought to find one, "I was just uh, looking out at the… at the uh…" spotting a nearby dandelion, she reached her arm out to yank it from the soil and hold it up proudly before her. "This dandelion. It's… it sure is yellow, huh? Matches your hair. Not that I was looking."
Inwardly she beat herself up. C'mon! Her brain shouted at her. You call that an excuse? Get it together, Helga, old girl!
Completely unvexed by Helga's uncouthness, Arnold instead ignored her and plopped himself down to sit beside her on the hill. "I figured you'd be with Phoebe all day today," he commented as Helga tossed the dandelion carelessly to the side while redirecting her attention towards the group of boys now chasing each other along the side of the football-field. A growing audience of popular kids were now watching, Rhonda leading the charge. Helga smirked to herself as she watched Rhonda slyly look in Harold's direction.
"Eh," she sounded while keeping her eyes on the Queen Bee below. "I figured she'd probably want to spend the last day with Geraldo since she's heading off to some smarty-pants math camp or something this Summer."
"Oh, really?" Arnold seemed surprised by this and Helga thought it odd Gerald hadn't mentioned it to him. "Gerald didn't mention that. Guess it works out for the two of them since he's going to his Aunt's for half the Summer."
"What fun for him," Helga muttered as Rhonda playfully touched at Harold's shoulder. She watched as he walked past the dark-haired vixen with a grin on his face before beginning his trek up the hill. In his wake, Sid, Stinky, and a few other rambunctious adolescents continued messing around with one another on the field. Helga furrowed her brow while searching for that goody-two-shoes Lila Sawyer, who had to be dawdling around somewhere if Stinky was anywhere nearby.
"I guess," Arnold said quietly before clearing his throat and adding, "with you and Gerald being gone, I'll probably just hang out at the boarding house all day."
His words pulled Helga from her nonsense task of finding Lila, and she turned to look at him with a confused expression as he focused his attention elsewhere. "I'm sure Miles and Stella will have plenty of family-activities planned for you and your massive head."
"Maybe," he replied in a somber tone as Harold made his return passed Arnold and Helga to run past them and back down the hill to where his friends were still congregated. Paying little attention to the boy's jaunt, Arnold continued his statement. "I mean, you're probably right, but it won't be the same."
"What? Life not all peaches and cream at casa de la Shortman?" Helga teased before turning away from Arnold to return her attention on the field. A pang in her heart ebbed through her system at the thought of Arnold's parents and how much she missed them. Pushing it away, she chose to focus on the growing group of girls now watching Harold and his band of buffoons.
"No, it's not that at all. Things are… they're fine," he settled on the word though it left a bittersweet aftertaste in his mouth. "It's just that Summer is kind of all about spending time with your friends. Gerald will be gone… you will be gone, so it's kind of—"
"Who said we were friends?" Helga retorted without so much as a look in his direction.
Ignoring her acidic statement, Arnold merely sighed and continued. "It just won't really feel like Summer. I was looking forward to hanging out with everyone. Especially you."
She smirked at this and glanced in his direction without moving her head. "Sure, you were, football-head." Her eyes returned to the group on the field as Harold held up something that he seemed incredibly proud of. Assuming it was a stick or something else of little importance, she watched with little interest while listening to Arnold's next words very carefully.
"Believe me or not, Helga, but I really was." His words were firm and sincere though Helga couldn't find it in herself to believe him.
"Yeah…" her voice trailed off before soon adding in a slick tone, "the whole break-up thing sort of put a damper on my belief that you actually want to spend time with me."
"Helga…"
"What?" She practically shouted his way, and as a few eyes glanced in the direction of her outburst, Arnold paid no mind and merely kept his eyes fixed to where Helga sat.
Gears turned from the inside of Arnold's head as he decided whether or not now was the time to fight the preconceived notions that Helga seemed to believe. He wanted desperately for her to understand that their break-up had nothing to do with his lack of feelings for her. Each night he went to bed thinking of the blond-haired girl who had given him so much trouble in the past—trouble he looked back on fondly and hoped that one day, someday soon, they would be together again.
Until that day came, however, he chose to change the subject to something Helga may be more willing to discuss and in a calmer manner. "So," he began with a sigh, "who's idea was it for you to go to Olga's? Your parents? Olga?"
"Mine, actually," her words sounded tired, exhausted in comparison to how she'd been previously conversing with the inquisitive football-head. "I mean, sure, she suggested it and all, but… it was my idea to actually go."
"That's surprising," Arnold stated as Helga rolled her eyes while ambiguous teenage shouting emitted from the scene below.
"Yeah, well I can be a pretty surprising person, bucko, and don't you forget it."
"As if I could," he quietly said as Helga's eyes widened in surprise before he posed a one-worded question. "Why?"
"Why what?" she emphasized, and Arnold calmly repeated himself.
"Why did you decide to go to Olga's then?"
"Like I already told you," she reiterated with heavy sarcasm, "I'm just doing it to shut her up about me visiting her all the time. Criminy! Do you even listen to me when we talk or does that freakish head of yours just tune out completely?" She turned to look at him with a blank expression, though there was the hint of a smile on his.
"No, I heard you before," he confirmed before adding, "I just don't believe that that's your real reason."
"Oh really?" Helga replied, unamused. "What do you know anyway?"
"Probably nothing," Arnold answered which made Helga let out a singular laugh. "That's what you think, at least. Don't you?"
The moment Arnold finished asking his question, Harold's shout rang out through the open area. "Look you guys! I found a worm!" A few squeals let out as Sid wandered closer to Harold so he could inspect his finding. "It's a big, fat, juicy worm!"
"Like someone else, we know," Helga muttered to herself before realizing that Arnold was waiting for an answer to the question she'd already forgotten. Opting to give a vague answer, she replied with a faint smile gracing her lips, "My mind is a complex place, Hair Boy. Unlike whatever wasteland resides in your giant skull. " Gesturing below, she then added, "Or Pink Boy there and his bit, fat, juicy worm."
"Right," Arnold said with a twisted smile that was both entertained and concerned. Deciding to try once more for a solid answer from Miss Pataki herself, Arnold again asked, "So, why are you really going to Olga's then? Why not tell me?"
Utterly exasperated with the sudden interrogation she was being put through, Helga let out a long sigh and huffed out, "Because it's none of your beeswax, Arnoldo." The teenager's lips fell from a smile to a frown. "Why do you care so much anyway?"
"Helga, I've always cared about you."
"That's debatable," she muttered, though Arnold didn't react despite hearing her words perfectly.
"Whatever you say, Helga," Arnold said in his usual response having given up on trying to understand Helga yet again. Letting out a long breath that he'd apparently been holding, his eyes shifted to look out at the field that Helga's gaze had abandoned in lieu for the boy she could never seem to figure out.
Helga stared at him as he watched far away and as teenagers gawked at an ordinary creature who had been minding its own business. Ignoring their shrill laughter and musings, Helga indulged in her own wonderings that spiraled around from the safety of her mind. No matter how hard she tried to bat them away, questions of whether or not she should tell Arnold the real reasons she was leaving Hillwood for the Summer. Questions of if they had a future together, or if it was even worth considering. Questions about how he felt now that they'd been apart for so long… wonderings if his family missed her absence or even noticed.
With each inquiry that wiggled its way into her consciousness, one wouldn't leave despite her best efforts: Did Arnold deserve to know that she intended to be cities away with the that hope she could forget about his beloved and strangely-shaped head?
A dramatic sigh escaped from her then, Arnold's attention returning her way as she offered him the smallest crumb of the answer he'd been searching for. "I just wanted to escape this lame town for a few months. Get away, and all that."
"From your parents, or from me?"
Maintaining a poker face as he looked to her quizzically, Helga took in a controlled breath before choosing her answer carefully. "Little of this, little of that."
"OH!" Rhonda squealed while batting away the worm Harold held in close proximity to her face, though Arnold and Helga's eyes were locked on one another at this point. "Get that… that slimy thing AWAY from me right this INSTANT!"
Ignoring the middle-school drama, Arnold remained unshocked by Helga's vague response as it told him all he needed to know about her motives. Nodding his head solemnly as Harold declared that he would 'get rid of the worm, alright,' Arnold offered an invitation he hoped Helga would be open to accepting. "Well, even if you are trying to get away… maybe you'll still talk to me over the Summer."
Surprised by his gesture, Helga sputtered out, "You'd want me to?"
With a nod of his head, Arnold displayed his usual warm and authentic smile. "Of course, I would. That is…only if you want to."
"Maybe," her answer sounded thoughtful though her gut was inwardly jumping for joy. Not wanting to sound too hopeful, she quickly tacked on, "You know. If I have time in between all of the bonding Olga is going to force on me while I'm there."
"You never know, Helga," Arnold started while moving to match Helga's position of leaning back onto the palms of his hands and outstretching his legs. "Spending time with your sister away from the influence of your parents might actually surprise you."
"Oh yeah? How do you figure?"
More laughter and squealing echoed around them and a teacher soon blew a whistle while pointing in the mischievous group's direction with a knowing look. Though they quieted down, it didn't take long for Harold and his worm to resume torturing the hoards of onlookers that were mostly comprised of Rhonda and her disciples.
Carrying on without so much as a flinch from the high-pitched tone of the whistle, Arnold explained his thought process on why spending time with Olga could benefit her in the long run. "Well, from what I know of your parents, whenever Olga is around, they pay even less attention to you. Right?" Helga shrugged with a half-nod that gave Arnold the go ahead to continue. "I know that your mom has been better since she got sober, but—"
"Eh. For a while, maybe. Bob and Miriam have been on the warpath with each other, these days." She shook her head at the recent memories of late-night arguments since Miriam had begun taking authority with the power of her sobriety. "But… go on."
"All I was going to say is that if they aren't around pitting you both up against each other, whether either of you realize it or not…" he paused for a moment before finishing his sentiment. "I don't know, I just think that getting away from all of that might help you see her in a different light."
"I doubt that," Helga said, but she absorbed his thought with the smallest glimmer of hope that he may be right.
"I don't," Arnold was quick to say, leaving Helga without a riposte to give him in return.
Helga knew that Arnold had a point. She knew that the potential of her and Olga's relationship to grow had already been planted when she bought an entirely new wardrobe for her after the fiasco at the school dance. As much as Helga hated to admit it, Olga really was a good sister, and she certainly tried to be the supporting familial figure that the young blonde so desperately needed in her life.
Not like she was going to tell Olga that.
And certainly not Arnold, either.
Instead of adding fuel to their bantering fire, Helga and Arnold opted to stare out ahead at the field of fools wasting the remainder of their time before lunch was over. The fresh air of the approaching Summer vacation swelled around them and carried the echoes of laughter up the grassy knoll to where the star-crossed young lovers sat in mutual silence—though the chaos of their teenaged classmates was more than loud enough to fill their empty air.
"Oh no," Rhonda's voice resounded in a piercing tone as she pointed a manicured nail towards Harold; Arnold and Helga's eyes locked on her figure as she did so. "You are not eating that worm, Harold Berman."
"Rhonda's right," Nadine was quick to chirp in while dodging Peapod Kid's attempt to hold her hand and keep her out of the conversation. "Earthworms are really beneficial to the environment because they increase the amounts of air and water in—"
"Who cares?" Harold conjectured while holding the helpless creature up above his head. "It's just a stupid old worm." With that, Helga and Arnold along with the crowd at the base of the hill watched in horror as he dropped the squiggling form into his mouth with a triumphant smile.
As Nadine's gasp could be heard miles away, Rhonda's shriek was even louder. "EW! Harold! How do you kiss your mother with that-that… that mouth?!"
Helga let out a smirk, Arnold turning to look at her in curiosity before returning his attention to the scene they had the privilege (or dishonor) of witnessing firsthand.
"Like I'd kiss my mother," Harold commented before making a dramatic swallow and walking in Rhonda's direction. "I wouldn't mind puckering up for you though… WHhonda."
A loud scoff was Rhonda's answer and she shook her head defiantly while crossing her arms tightly over her arms. "In your dreams, Harold. I wouldn't be caught dead kissing the mouth of someone who eats worms. Please!" With that, she pivoted on the heel of her shoe, "C'mon girls," she instructed as the flock of young women left Harold and his friends behind with dopy expressions on their faces.
As they walked away, Helga couldn't help but notice Rhonda as she briefly looked over her shoulder back to Harold. For a split second, so fast she may have imagined it, Helga swore that Rhonda sent him a wink through her eyelash-extensioned eyes.
Despite having watched the dramatics unfold, Arnold and Helga remained quiet afterwards; both seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Together while apart, they listened to the gusts of wind and the snippets of conversations from their peers that lived their lives without care just beside them. Even though there was palpable tension between the pair, Arnold and Helga seemed not to care about the lack of words they shared. It was almost as though that silence, that absence of words was comforting. Natural.
Without realizing it, they each individually wondered how they could have such a complicated history and yet feel so comfortable remaining in silence with one another. Nothing needed to be said. And as hard as Helga tried to feel animosity or awkwardness between herself and the football-headed boy, she simply couldn't find any feeling of the sort.
And neither could Arnold.
"So, I have to admit," Arnold broke the silence to drag Helga from her thoughts, "I haven't had a chance to sign your yearbook yet."
"Eh," she voiced with a casual upturn of her shoulders. "I haven't signed yours either, football-face, so don't worry about it."
"I guess…" he continued while his gaze shifted down to the grass on either side of him. Reaching down, he played with the lush greenery while holding fistfuls of it in his hands. Just as it seemed he were about the rip them from the soil, he loosened his grip and smoothed the grass gently beneath his palms while speaking in a hushed tone. "I've been trying to figure out what I want to write."
This took Helga by surprise; the concept of Arnold seemingly anxious over a little yearbook entry foreign to her considering that she was typically the one to dwell on such trivial things. His mind seemed preoccupied as he continued to play with the grass below, and for the first time since their conversation began, Helga fully turned her head to look at Arnold directly.
"Isn't it supposed to be me who has the issues deciding what to say?" She commented with a small grin, and Arnold smirked while giving a lone nod of his head.
"Yeah… the tables sure have turned on us since we were kids, huh?" He mused, though Helga didn't answer and instead kept her gaze focused on the boy smoothing out the grass. "It's funny. I always admired how up-front you were about everything. Or at least, how up-front I thought you were about things."
"And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?" She questioned with a hint of resentment poised to explode through her tone.
Noting the imminent danger should he say the wrong thing, Arnold treaded carefully. "Nothing. You're just… passionate. You try to hide it, but you shouldn't. I wish I knew how to express my passion better."
Helga let out a small chuckle. "So, what you're saying is you're going to write some big, long, sappy novel in my yearbook about me so you can be the passionate one, now?"
Smiling to himself with a nod, Arnold turned to meet his eyes with Helga's for the first time since he'd sat beside her on the hill. "Guess you'll have to wait and see, huh?"
She hardly heard his words as she had free-fallen into the sea of green that gazed back at her; the tiniest hint of a playful glimmer reflecting in his eyes.
Throughout their entire conversation thus far, Helga had worked hard to avoid his eyes. Those eyes. The eyes of emerald green like sacred crown jewels of a royal family that had been long lost to the history books. It felt unfair to her, those damned eyes that could see into her very core with a mere blink. Vibrant hues colored in the irises that she sunk into as though they were deeper than the oceans and vaster than space. Their simple connection proved to drown Helga in his cool verdant pools, not once struggling to rise to the surface of reality. Helga remained content to be swallowed and submerged by those beautiful, dreamy, stunningly emerald eyes.
"Helga?"
Shaking her head free from daydreams of swimming in emerald gems, Helga hummed out a response. "Hmm?"
"I asked if you had signed many yearbooks yet."
Adjusting to fold her legs up into a pretzel-style position, Helga laughed. "Yeah right. Like people want some lame message from Helga G. Pataki. Pass."
"You don't want to write things that will leave impressions on people?" Arnold questioned, and Helga turned to give the dense boy a blank expression one could only describe as a deadpan.
"In a yearbook?" She repeated as though she hadn't heard him right the first time. "Try again, football-head. I can write anything I want." Looking out passed the field to where a sea of trees began beyond the schoolyard, she continued to daydream aloud as an excuse for an answer to Arnold's question. "I could write novels. Poetry volumes that outnumbered encyclopedias. I could write articles for magazines… travel the world. You name it, and I could write it."
"I don't doubt that," Arnold agreed as the familiar voices of Gerald and Phoebe began to make their way closer to where their friends were still seated. "I wonder though…" his voice trailed off and Helga raised her brow his way while awaiting for him to finish his thought.
"Well?" She pressured. "What is it you're wondering inside that noggin' of yours?"
"I guess I'm just wondering what it is you will write about when you write about you and me." He finally said which caught Helga so far off guard that she could have fallen off of the top of Mount Everest itself.
There was a subtly underneath his sentence; a deeper question hidden beneath a seemingly superficial statement. This undertone implied something else entirely, although Helga couldn't decipher what it was despite her best efforts. Arnold's double-sided words spun circles inside her mind as she chewed over the meaning of what he'd said. Just as she opened her mouth to respond, Gerald and Phoebe took their places to sit on either end of Arnold and Helga respectively.
"So, what are we talking about?" Gerald inserted himself into the conversation before taking a large lick from what remained of his ice cream cone. "Must be pretty interesting if you guys skipped out on the free ice cream they're handing out."
"There was quite a crowd waiting for them," Phoebe added as she too licked off the top of her chocolate ice-cream bar she had chosen. "I'm sure they have a substantial amount left over if either of you are interested."
"I wouldn't say they have a substantial amount left, Pheebs," Gerald intoned her word before continuing to tell both Arnold and Helga, "All they have left is strawberry at this point. And nobody likes strawberry."
"That's not true," Arnold defended the flavor. "I don't mind strawberry, but Helga's allergic, so…"
Helga's eyes once again found themselves staring incredulously at Arnold. He remembers, she found herself thinking in a tone that mimicked that of a lovesick puppy. My love, my orzo-headed darling! He remembered! Such a trivial detail… and yet, locked away inside that football-head, he remembered—
Her inner monologue was halted by the piercing ring of their teacher's whistle. "Let's pack it in, guys!" They shouted while cupping their hands around their mouth in an effort to amplify their voice. "You still have a few hours to go before you're free for the Summer so let's MOVE IT!"
As Phoebe and Gerald stood to find one another's hands and wander inside, Arnold rose only to offer his hand to Helga as she remained on the ground. "Only a few hours left," he encouraged with a soft smile that made Helga feel weak at the knees, even as she sat.
"Yeah? So?" She replied while taking his hand to help herself stand upright.
Shrugging his shoulders, he let go of her hand and shoved both of his into the front pockets of his jeans. "Means we'd better figure out what to write in each other's yearbooks, I guess."
Letting out a scoff, Helga pushed herself passed him to walk inside while saying loudly over her shoulder, "Maybe you do, Arnoldo. But me? Ol' Helga G. Pataki knows exactly what she's going to write in your dumb old yearbook."
Stomping off to leave Arnold in her wake, Helga chewed on the inside of her lip as the lie she told left an unpleasant aftertaste lingering in her mouth.
Helga tapped the top of her pen absentmindedly against the hardcover book which lay open with its bare pages facing the sky. No matter how hard she tried, the distracted blonde couldn't find the words to convey the perfect message for Arnold's yearbook. After all, this was potentially the last sentiment she'd be giving him before evading Hillwood over Summer Vacation.
"Are you still pondering what it is you are going to inscribe in Arnold's yearbook, Helga?" Phoebe, her science partner of the day as the teacher had given up trying to teach anything on the last day of the school year, asked her.
"Yes, Phoebe. I'm still pondering," Helga snipped back at her friend before sighing with a droop of her shoulders and reaching out to pull the empty yearbook closer to where her body met the edge of her table. "I mean, look at this!" She exclaimed while holding it up and thumbing through the blank pages at the end of the book. Altogether, his 'autograph' section held maybe ten names, all with lackluster messages.
"I'm not sure I understand," Phoebe stated with a concerned expression painting her delicate features.
"The kid has next to nobody in this stinkin' thing!" Helga turned a page to point at a scribbled signature before reading out the message aloud. "H.A.G.S. See you on the Field, Shortman!—Sid. What kind of message is that?" Flipping feverishly to the next page, she tilted the book to rest vertically and pointed to the binding. "Ha Ha I signed your crack," she read before shaking her head. "Obviously, that was Pink Boy, but do you see my point here, Pheebs?"
"Not really, no," her friend replied in a small voice, knowing that Helga was sure to explain it to her within moments.
"It means that I need to write one of two things, and that choice will determine everything on the future of our relationship… the future of if we even have a relationship!" She threw her arms wildly in the air before dropping them with a muffled THUMP onto the table.
"Helga, don't you think that might be a bit… over catastrophizing?" Phoebe suggested in a meek voice. "It seems to me that you may be putting unnecessary pressure on something as arbitrary as a note in a middle school yearbook."
"I just want it to be perfect, Phoebe," Helga admitted in defeat. "If I write something too simple, he won't remember me or think about me. Or he'll think that I'm not interested in him anymore; that I'm over him or something." At her friend's lack of response, Helga continued while turning through the other pages of the autograph section without reading the words scribbled on them. "On the other hand, if I write something too long and sappy and romantic… if there's too many feelings like a confession or whatever… it will come across as desperate. He'll think I'm some kind of psychopath who can't learn how to be a person without him and his football-headed do-goodedness plaguing my life."
"So why don't you simply write a hybrid of those concepts?"
Turning to give her a quizzical expression, Helga didn't have to ask what it was Phoebe meant for her to begin explaining. "What I mean, is there are ways to express honest emotions without coming across too strongly."
"Pssh," Helga dodged the advice with a wave of her hand and purse of her lips. "I'll just write something basic. Something boring. It'll leave him guessing, right?"
"You could…" Phoebe answered with the hint of caution behind her words. "I think you should be honest and write him what you want to tell him. Truthfully and with raw emotion."
"But I've done that how many other times now, Phoebe?" she countered while setting the book down again and opening it to the page she intended to write on. "Every time I give Arnold some drawn-out confession, he wigs out and I end up screaming loud enough for other countries to hear. What could I possibly benefit from doing it again, only in a documented way that I could never, ever escape the embarrassment of?"
A drawn-out moment of silence followed Helga's supposed rhetorical question, though after a minute, Phoebe decided to answer anyway.
"Perhaps this time will be different," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe he's waiting for you to tell him how you feel since your break-up. We both know that you haven't exactly been forthcoming regarding your feelings on the matter."
"I've been more than forthcoming. I think my volume alone made my thoughts on the matter pretty clear."
"That you were hurt and angry, yes," Phoebe confirmed. "However, you haven't told him what those feelings did to you personally. What the repercussions of those actions had and what you learned from the situation. It is through that honesty that Arnold may see you've changed and want to resume your courtship."
Holding the pen up to her lips, she gave it a couple taps as a smile began to grow on her lips with Phoebe's words sinking in. "You know, Pheebs," she began, "you might have a pretty solid point there…" And with that, Helga poised the tip of her pen to her designated autograph page in preparation for her long-awaited entry in Arnold's yearbook.
Football-head,
Maybe you expected me to write some generic thing in here telling you to have a good Summer and to try not to smack yourself in the face with the ball you'll be using to play catch with yourself because I'll be far, far, FAR AWAY from this stupid town.
If you expected that, then you might be a little less dense than I had anticipated, but I'm also going to do something somewhat regrettable and tell you my feelings or whatever because you and your freakish head care about that sort of thing.
I was sad that we broke up. Obviously. But more than sad, I was really mad, and it wasn't even at you (though you were in a close second). I was mad at MYSELF. After the dance, I thought long and hard about the events leading us to that moment, and it wasn't Lila who put a wedge between us or you not telling me what you were up to that did it. The only thing that stood in the way of our relationship was me—and not just me, but my inane fear that one day you'll wake up and realize that I'm just some bully who isn't deserving of any kind of love… especially from a football-headed dorkwad like you.
Anyway. I hope you have a good summer, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't hope to hear from you, even when I'm all the way in Olga-land living out her real-life fairytale. Keep your fingers crossed that I don't come home the next Glinda! I really like my cynical status a lot more.
Helga G. Pataki
Helga stared at her name as it stared from the page in the pink ink of the felt-tip marker she'd used to pen it. Chewing on her lower lip, she read her inscription over and over trying to assure herself that this was the right move. It read okay—a perfect blend of her infamous sarcasm with just enough of a genuine flair that told Arnold she was still invested in their relationship.
Closing the book and holding it tightly to her chest, Helga began her trek through the bustling school hallways in pursuit of the bus-loading area. As thick seas of students gathered by the doors leading to the lineup of school buses, Helga spotted yellow tufts of hair that she had come to find without actively searching. They peeked out from the crowd, his head obviously turning to look around himself as though hunting for something… or someone. With the ebb and flow of their peers passing by one another to say their goodbyes for the school year, Helga caught enough of a glimpse of her beloved to see that, he too, was clutching her yearbook in his arms.
He wasn't just waiting for a bus with the rest of the masses.
Arnold Shortman was looking for her. Within the pages of the very book he held was either an answer to her wonderings or more complicated questions she would ponder for the rest of the Summer.
Suddenly, the world around her began to shrink; the beat of her heart quickening its pace and threatening to burst from her chest. Rounding the nearest corner, Helga soon hid herself while maintaining her tight grip on Arnold's yearbook.
"I can't do this," she told herself while locking her arms around the hardcover collection of memories. "No, Helga," she said sternly with a shake of her head. "You have to do this, you got it? Arnold…" peeking over her shoulder to glance in the direction he was still lingering in, she hid herself again before continuing. "Arnold needs to know this and if he isn't going to make the first move, then it's just going to have to be me."
"What if he doesn't feel the same way though?" She argued with herself. "What if he just writes for me to 'be open with Olga' and 'enjoy being away from Hillwood' or something? I mean, it's nice and a total Arnold thing to say… but compared to what I wrote?"
Opening up the yearbook to the page she had written on, her eyes danced over the words she'd painstakingly chosen over the last three hours. She'd crafted the perfect yearbook entry—the perfect memento of feelings, personality, and hopes that Arnold would reciprocate it were all wrapped up on the page below. Reaching out, Helga caressed her fingertips lovingly over the top of the words she'd written. Then, in one swift movement, she took the edge of the page in her hand and ripped it out of its home.
Crumpling up the paper, she brought it and the yearbook to the nearby garbage can that had a flat lid for a top. Setting the open yearbook atop the receptacle, Helga immediately tossed her wadded-up ball of emotions into the slot for trash. Under the influence of her deepest fears, she snatched a pen from a student passing by and began to scrawl on the fresh page:
Arnold,
Hope you have a good Summer vacation with your parents. I'm sure they'll have tons of cheesy things for you to like pipe-cleaner projects and making magnets for your fridge.
Enjoy that.
Helga G. Pataki
Dotting the 'I' at the end of her name, Helga couldn't help but flip backwards and land on the final page of photographs for the seventh-grade class. Glazing over the many black-and-white faces that awkwardly smiled at her, one face in particular drew her attention.
"Arnold," she cooed as her index finger traced a heart around the smile that she had memorized from years of spilling secrets to the locket hidden within her shirt. It was times like these that she missed the comfort in expressing her innermost thoughts and desires to a picture that could neither judge nor respond. As she hid from the object of her affections, Helga once again indulged in the habit she thought she'd kicked when burying her lockets months ago.
"Oh Arnold, my sweet, tender, beam of pure light," she spoke to the image while encircling it with her fingertip. "If only I possessed the courage to bare my true feelings to you…. If only I could write the words I so desperately want to speak without fear of your reaction." Glancing over her shoulder to be sure that nobody was paying her any attention, she pulled the yearbook closer and continued to whisper, unnoticed.
"But alas, I am not yet the woman I one day hope to be—the woman you rightfully deserve. Full of bravery. Courageous. Unshaken by the emotions that flood her system so strongly she spews them out like water from a hose at full speed, but—" Realizing she was growing off-track from her point, Helga took a deep breath and centered herself to finish her monologue which felt long overdue.
"I can only pray that, despite my impersonal and somewhat cruel message, any feelings you may still harbor won't be tainted by this false façade you know hides the real me deep within." Sighing, she closed the book and looked out at the array of students who walked by her without so much as a glance in her direction.
Holding the yearbook tightly to her chest once more, she returned around the corner and began to make her way to where Arnold spotted her and offered a wave. As she walked, from the safety of her mind, she finished the soliloquy that needed to be said—silent as it may be.
With each night that passes while I am away, I'll spend my nights awake in agony. It is your angelic face that shall invade my dreaming and haunt my every waking moment. It will be your smile that paints the canvases behind my lids, and your voice that will sing sweet nothings to my memory as I fall into unconsciousness.
Just as she reached Arnold, her mind finalized itself in preparation for the final exchange they would share before she returned home from Olga's.
Maybe when I return, she told herself with each step she neared the football-headed boy, I will have found who you've been waiting for—a braver, truer, and more authentic Helga G. Pataki.
"There you are!" Arnold greeted her while gesturing in her direction. "I feel like I've been looking for you forever but…" he looked around himself at the many teenagers walking the hallway, "It's hard to tell with so many people around."
"Yeah, that's kind of what happens on the last day of school," she retorted with a shrug. "Figured I'd warn you since this is apparently your first rodeo, huh?"
"Very funny, Helga," he deadpanned while swinging his backpack over his shoulder and unzipping the main pouch. "You ready to switch back?"
"Ready like a zit in need of a popping," Helga blurted out, though she soon furrowed her brows in frustration at the allegory she'd chosen and moved on with the hope that Arnold wouldn't notice. "Don't get too excited about what I wrote or anything. I kind of had to rush. Teachers on my case and all that."
Pulling out Helga's yearbook, Arnold re-zipped is bag and swung it back over his shoulder while presenting her with the book. "On the last day of school?" He wondered aloud as Helga switched his yearbook for hers.
"Yes, on the last day of school." Her words were defensive, a clear sign that she was hiding something, though Arnold had no time to further investigate. His bus would be leaving soon—and so would Helga's.
"Well, either way I look forward to reading it," Arnold told her in earnest. "I'm sure it'll end up being much better than whatever I wrote."
"Doubt that," Helga muttered just under her breath, Arnold missing the words entirely.
"So, I guess I'll see you around? When do you leave for Olga's?"
"Tomorrow," she responded immediately while her eyes shifted to look out towards her escape at the row of yellow buses. "Guess that means I get to start my Summer vacation the way every kid dreams—by waking up at the crack of dawn to listen to musicals on a 4-hour-long car ride with my perfect older sister."
"Remember," Arnold teased as he began taking steps away from Helga so he could walk towards bus 8 that would take him home, "you said that you were the one who chose this…"
"Big whoop," she answered while and jutting off from him to wander in the other direction to her bus—bus number 49. "I can complain if I want to, Arnoldo. Take my advice, being cynical has its upsides."
"It has its downsides too, you know," he called out to her as they grew further and further apart.
"Oh yeah? Like what?" She egged him on.
As Arnold took the first step onto his bus, he turned to holler out over his shoulder, "If you're always so cynical, when do you have time to be happy?"
Disappearing onto the bus, Helga watched with a thoughtful expression before boarding her own bus—the eagerness building inside of her to take a seat and at last read whatever generic nonsense Arnold had written on the pages of her yearbook. Once seated, she tossed her bag at her side and quickly turned the yearbook all the way to the back; her fingers flipping through the autograph section fervently in search for Arnold's familiar handwriting.
It was there that she stumbled onto a paragraph written sloppily in blue pen. A paragraph. And it was all written for her directly from Arnold himself.
Helga,
There are a lot of things I'd like to write here, but I don't feel like a middle school yearbook is the best place for that, since, knowing you, you'll probably try to misinterpret my words. I'll try anyway.
I'm going to be honest in saying that this year has been really weird. I feel like we left things on terms neither of us are comfortable with or even completely understand. Since the dance, you've avoided me, and I understand that and don't fault you for it either. Honestly, I probably deserve it.
But I want you to know, Helga, that I really miss you. I miss hanging out and having family dinner and talking about whatever random things happened in English class or over the weekend. I know you'll probably call me a sap and make fun of me for it, but I don't take it back. I miss you. And the fact that we aren't together feels right, because we're still pretty young, but also wrong because being together felt really right.
I really hope you have a great Summer at your sister's. I hope it's even better than you expect and, more than anything, I hope you come home and want to tell me all about it.
Arnold
Arnold stared at the short blip that Helga had scribbled in his yearbook and frowned. He hadn't expected something so emotionless and… stale—especially not from Helga who was the most passionate person he knew. As he inspected each curve of her letters, his eyes shifted over to the binding of the book, the residue of jagged paper lines that had been left behind by the ripping of a page. Holding the book up for better focus, he could tell that one of his autograph pages had been torn out—the very page that resided before where Helga' had written her half-hearted message.
His mind reeling, Arnold turned his attention to the page she had chosen to write on, indents from lettering that no longer existed still littering the page.
"Helga…" he muttered with a shake of his head as his fingers outlined the bumps where previous words had been inscribed. While he was disappointed that whatever she had originally written was omitted and adjusted before reaching him, the more investigative piece of him quivered with delight.
Helga may be with Olga all summer thinking she got away with something by ripping out this page, but Arnold? Arnold had all summer long to figure out what those words were that she tried to hide.
And that's exactly what he intended to spend his Summer Vacation doing.
IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE, MUST READ:
I have been trying to figure out a way to assure you all that chapters will be regular and since I do well with deadlines, I have decided to make a LIST OF DATES in which chapters will be posted. Think of it like seasons for TV shows. The next chunk of new chapters will be posted as follows, always by/around 5pm Central Time:
Saturday, September 26th
Saturday, October 17th
Saturday, November 14th
Saturday, December 5th
Saturday, December 19th
Saturday, January 9th
After these days, I will take a WINTER BREAK to work on writing the next batch of chapters that will begin posting on SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 6TH. Additional dates for chapters after that will be announced in that February 6th chapter.
I really appreciate your patience as I work on this story. I have been going through some really difficult and stressful things IRL that have prohibited me from working on my story the way I want to, HOWEVER, I truly believe that this set-up will be more organized for me and give all of you something to look forward to as you know for sure when it will be updated instead of always waiting with no end in sight.
As always, please let me know what you think of this chapter. I feel like since i literally write advertisements and website copy for a living now, that my writing isn't as good or it's gotten stale and stiff. It also just might be because I read my own writing so much now that I'm not a very good judge at this point anymore. Please leave me a review and let me know what you think! I will see you all at the next chapter on SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 26TH!