The chill of the early autumn air made the hair on Helga's arms stand up as she sat on the stoop just outside the Fly Trap's entrance. Despite the feelings of rage within in, her body remained rigid and stoic as though she had been carved to be locked in a deadpanned expression for centuries to come.

In her hands, the blond girl carelessly twirled her phone around and anxiously switched it from hand to hand. Was it worth it to call Olga and leave early, she wondered or do I just sit here and stick it out to ride home with Miles and… and… HIM.

Unable to make up her mind on which course of action was more desirable given her emotional state, the front door opened from behind her and with it extrapolated a cloud of noise which dissipated as the door fell shut once more. Glancing up and over to see who her new stoop companion was, Helga couldn't help but smirk as she watched the familiar boy fight the wind so he could light the cigarette poised between his lips.

"You really did a number up there, Pataki" Wolfgang said before finally achieving a light on his cigarette and dropping his lighter-filled hand to his side.

Letting out a laugh, Helga shook her head with a small smile on her face. "Yeah uh, not uh, not really."

"Yes really," he moved to sit beside her on the ledge of the stoop. "Your stuff was probably the best shit up there, and it wasn't even a song so…"

Feeling an inward flame rise throughout her body, Helga tried to shift the subject onto something other than herself. "Surprised that you of all people are here."

"Why? I like music… when it's good that is."

Amused by his answer, Helga shrugged, "I'm sure there are better places that play live music than this teenage-frenzied fools fest."

"You may be surprised, but being the oldest sophomore in your grade isn't what it's cracked up to be. No fun shenanigans, fancy privileges, benefits, or cool teachers like they show in the movies," Wolfgang said seriously, his gaze locked and forward on the street as cars passed like each second that idly ticked by in their silence. "When I'm not at work or school, it's kinda nice to have this place that can keep myself busy rather than being suck in another at-home shitshow."

Knowing that struggle firsthand, she tentatively asked a little more. "Define 'shitshow' cause I might just be able to beat you in that department. Growing up, and now still actually, my whole existence has been quite the shitshow itself."

"Oh yeah?" Wolfgang took the bait and turned to her with a determined look in his eye. "My parents are fucking assholes," he declared. "When my dad isn't running around telling me how much a waste and piece of shit I am or literally cleaning my mouth out with soap, my mom just stands on the sidelines and plays 'perfect housewife'. She never intervenes, just waits until his rage is over and gives me some banana bread or chocolate milk or something sweet as if it could numb the pain."

Helga sat silently at the reality of the peek into Wolfgang's upbringing before taking a deep breath and doing something she didn't expect she would do—actually talk about her feelings.

"I was just invisible," she said in a small voice while looking down at her hands. "I lived in my perfect big sister's life and bullied people to get some kind of attention the more that I think about it." Furrowing her brows in thought at the small realization, she then added, "It was never even about Arnold, was it?"

Not answering the clearly rhetorical question, Helga continued with her thought process aloud.

"Arnold was some… amalgam of the love and attention I should have been getting. But it was always either about Olga and when she wasn't around, that perfect family mask was taken off faster than a kid's costume after a long night of trick or treating." She paused for a moment to laugh at the private joke she'd just made.

"But the real fun started recently," Helga continued. "Like, my mom has always been an alcoholic for as long as I can remember, but when my piece-of-shit dad cheated on her during some business meeting, she just drank herself to drown. My sister actually had to come live with us to make sure she didn't go and die from one drink too many."

Wolfgang nodded his head with a sigh, "Sounds like things might get better at least. Your parents still together?"

"Hell no," Helga was quick to answer. "After the affair thing, he filed papers and they've been blissfully divorced since the beginning of the year. I even hear my dad's shacked up with some young thing he already knocked up."

"Damn," he breathed out. "I wish my parents would get divorced. Honestly, they never should have even gotten married more or less created spawn like me." He shook his head and finished his cigarette—promptly tossing it onto the gravel and twisting his shoe on it to stop the dull flame. Taking out his pack for another cigarette, he looked down at it before looking over to Helga and holding the pack out in her direction. "You want one?"

As she considered the sticks staring up at her, two familiar voices interrupted her thought process on the matter.

"Helga!" Sid called out while walking towards her with Stinky in his wake. "Dude! That was SO wicked awesome what you did in there!" Turning to look over at Stinky, he asked "Wasn't it? Did you see their faces? Holy cow!" The pair stopped suddenly at the appearance of Wolfgang just beside Helga.

"What are you doing here?" Sid demanded, Wolfgang merely laughing.

"Relax tough guy, I'm just sitting out here having a cig and talking to my new friend."

Turning to look his way, a smile twitched at her lips as she repeated what he had just said, "Your new friend, huh?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he simply stated, "Guess you are now."

Looking away from Wolfgang, Helga leaned forward and rested her forearms on her thighs. "Why did you really come over here, huh? It certainly wasn't to feed my ego, was it?"

Exchanging a glance, Stinky took the lead and said, "We wanted to ask you to join our band on acounta your lyrics are real good."

Rolling her eyes, Helga sat straight up. "They weren't lyrics dumbass. It was just some stupid poem I wrote. Big whoop."

"But good writing like that makes good music," Sid insisted with a suggestive grin. "C'mon, think how cool it'll be to hit that stage and really shock Arnold and his new girlfriend?"

Blood drained from Helga's face, "Gir-girlfriend?"

"Least that's what everyone's been saying since she went up and sang with him" Stinky offered, though Helga shook off the information as Wolfgang nudged her slightly with his shoulder.

"I think you can do it," he encouraged. "Actually, I think you have to do it."

"And why's that?" She countered.

"Because this town deserves some damn good music. And screw that guy ditching you for some other chick."

A long pause followed

Reaching out to swipe a cigarette from Wolfgang's pack as she had been previously offered, she lit the stick with ease and inhaled fervently which resulted in a minor coughing fit. After it had passed, Helga stood up boldly from where she'd been sitting. "Fine. I'll join your little band," carefully this time, Helga breathed in more of the smoke from the cigarette she held. "On ONE condition."

Everyone's eyes turned to look at her with a glint of fear behind their gazes. "We're changing the name of the band."

"What?" Stinky whined. "What's wrong with 'The Stink-O's?"

"Uh, it stinks," Wolfgang answered for him before standing to join Helga. "You guys should have something really cool and unique. Half the reason anyone goes to a band is because they know your name. So, pick a good one."

"Okay, sure, fine. Fine, fine, fine" Sid repeated urgently. "Does that mean you're in? Like you'll be in our band?"

A beat passed before Helga shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah. Why not."

The two jumped with joy and a few fist pumps at her decision. "Criminy," she muttered more to Wolfgang than anyone "you'd think they'd just won the fucking lottery or something…."

"Alright, alright," Helga ended their celebration. "So, who all is in this 'band' of ours?"

"Well," Sid started slowly, "There's me, Stinky, you of course and…."

"That's it," Helga finalized. "A writer—"

"Singer" Sid corrected.

"Yeah, we're gonna be talking about that, but you only have a guitarist and a bassist? Where the hell is your drummer?" Helga ordered with gestured arms that landed on her hips.

"We uh… well we haven't found him yet" Sid replied coyly.

"Holy Cripes, I've just been recruited into an actual joke of a band."

"We'll find a drummer, Helga" Stinky said quickly to which Helga laughed humorlessly.

"You're fucking right we will. And I'll start that search on Monday at school."

"So…." Sid started before looking to Helga. "What are we supposed to do?"

"You two will meet me at lunch where we'll comb out the details on how this whole thing is gonna work. And as for the drummer…" her eyes drifted out towards the sky thoughtfully, "I know just the guy..."

"Helga!" Arnold's voice hollered above the crowd as everyone took their leave from The Fly Trap for the night. "Helga! Where are you? We gotta leave soon!"

With a roll of her eyes, Helga turned to look in the direction of where she'd heard her name called. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she called him off with a wag of her hand. "Cool your jets there Arnoldo."

"Helga…." Arnold gulped, "Helga, is that a cigarette?"

Glancing in Wolfgang's direction who was watching with great entertainment, Helga exchanging a look with him for a second, and could swear she felt fire begin to swarm her body from the base of her feet. "Let's find out, shall we football-head?" Taking a long drag from the stick that burned at the base of her throat, she took a step towards Arnold to blow the smoke in his face. "Guess so."

After waiting for the literal cloud of smoke to disperse, Arnold glared at Helga. "What is going on with you tonight? That thing at the mic," he said while gesturing behind himself with his thumb, "and now you're…you're smoking?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well frankly, it's kinda scary." His words took Helga aback. She hadn't expected that. Continuing, Arnold said "You're acting really erratic, and I guess I don't…. I don't understand why."

Laughing at the notion he posed, Helga repeated his words slowly, "You don't understand why." Shaking her head, fire in her feet, she moved to stand mere inches from the boy who refused to show any fear for her antics. "Maybe it's the fact that my own not-boyfriend decided to shack up with the towns newest celebrity, Addie Reeves."

A small crowd of curious kids had begun to form though Helga and Arnold had hardly noticed.

"What?!" Arnold shouted in complete shock. "Where in the world did you hear that from?"

"Doesn't matter who I heard it from, bud, I believe it."

Crossing his arms Arnold gave her a skeptical look. "And why is that, Helga."

"Because you let me down for her! You go and tell me that my lyrics weren't good enough for your dumb music, told me you two were going for an 'instrumental experience' rather than feature lyrics and now all of a sudden, you're up there working with Addie practically adding her to your freakin' band."

Standing just feet from the squabble, Gerald turned muttered to himself, "Now that's an idea…. We could really make some music." On instinct alone, Gerald turned to Addie, "Do you wanna join our band?"

"I don't know," she replied. "Seems like my being there is causing quite the stir.

"Them?" Gerald gestured towards his childhood mates argue at the radius of the now fully formed circle of onlookers. "Things have been stirring for a while. Only a matter of time before it blew which is why you should join us."

Eyeing him in curiosity at his prospect, the fight continued ahead.

"I can't believe this, it's the jealousy again! Helga! This is why we broke up in the first place—"

But Helga was quick to cut his words short, "It wasn't jealousy you dingus it's the principle. You telling me you're doing instrumental shit just to appease me but really you were out scouting for a 'better lyricist' That's a hypocritical and utterly dick move."

A few chuckles came from the ever growing group of curious kids, Arnold uncrossed his arms and planted his feet firmly where he stood.

"Even if she were to join the band—" the idea sounding even better once the words had left his lips "—you are choosing to rather break up than talk to me and tell me I hurt your feelings?"

"Please, you didn't hurt my feelings Hair Boy," she replied instinctually, "You just made something very clear to me is all. You don't believe in me."

"What?"

"You don't believe in me or support me and everything between us isn't working because…because maybe we're just on different roads that just aren't ready to converge."

Blinking once, Arnold said in disbelief, "You really are breaking up with me."

Smoking a final puff of her cigarette, Helga flicked the butt away and exhaled "Never dating, technically."

Meanwhile, Addie turned to face Gerald with a quizzical look. "And what might that reason be?" She wondered aloud. "That I have to join your band."

"It's simple facts," Gerald pitched. "You write great lyrics, and we make killer music. Imagine how good we'd be working together?"

Chewing on her lip briefly while weighing the pros and cons of such an offer, she reached her hand out for a shake from him. "You've got yourself a deal. I'm in"

Unaware of the deal that was being made just behind the scenes, Arnold countered, "You and I both know that we considered our relationship as dating—"

"But you didn't want to put a name on it," Helga immediately argued. "You didn't want to name us because it quote, caused problems, end quote."

"That's not what I said—" Arnold tried, but Helga wasn't accepting the excuses he laid out in front of her.

"At this point, does it really matter?" She asked before crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "You and I are… on totally different pages—"

"Are we?" Arnold asked, though Helga ignored his question and continued.

"—and maybe it was irresponsible of us to try and date again when we never really worked on our issues. I don't know."

Arnold stared at Helga for a long moment as though trying desperately to absorb her words. After a beat had passed, he took a deep breath and sighed outward, "I guess…"

"it's how it has to be, Arnold," Helga insisted with a sigh of her own.

"But how are you going to get home? I'm me and my dad can still take you—"

"She can come with me," Wolfgang interjected much to Arnold's dismay. "I can take her home on my bike, no problem."

Arnold looked over to Wolfgang while holding tightly onto a glare unlike anything the boy had done or felt like doing in his life.

"See?" Helga shrugged her arms loose to rest at her sides. "I'll be just fine, Arnoldo. Just like you and your stupid little band."

"Helga…"

"Well, you know what?" Helga called out angrily while walking backwards in the direction of where Wolfgang was leading towards his motorcycle. "I'm in a band too now—a band that appreciates my lyrical genius and BIG WORDS, that Tall Hair Boy seems to hate."

"Helga, wait—" Arnold tried, but it was hopeless. Helga was already nearly at the motorcycle's side as Wolfgang handed her a helmet to put upon her blonde locks.

"Just do you, okay?" Helga stated with a level of sympathy not many often heard. "I'm tired of waiting around to feel like you love and support me the way that you claim to do."

"But Helga—"

"No buts, Arnoldo," she said callously while hiking one leg over Wolfgang's motorcycle. "Tell your Sdad I got a ride, and I'm safe, alright?" As he started the motorcycle with a rumbling roar, she called out just before they peeled off into the road, "Seeya later, Football-Head."

Her words felt ominous to the boy as he stood blankly where Helga had left him in the gravel parking lot of The Fly Trap.

"I'm pretty sure this meatloaf has Jell-O in it," Sid said while poking it with his fork. "It's wiggling! Are you not seeing this?!"

"Tastes mighty good to me," Stinky replied with his mouth full of the supposed gelatinous meal.

"Jell-O is made of like…. Crushed up little animals and bones and shit, right?" Sid asked with an uncomfortable look in his eyes. "Doesn't that bother you at all?"

"I don't mind all that much on acounta it's pretty good," Stinky stated while picking up the final piece of his meat loaf and popping it into his mouth "I'm more bummed that they were all outta that lemon pudding."

Overhearing the bizarre conversation taking place at Sid and Stinky's lunch table, Helga tossed her tray at the empty spot beside Sid that they'd left for her. "Gelatin meat, huh?" Her eyes looking over to Sid while harboring a small smirk at the corner of her lips.

Stabbing a piece of his meatloaf with his plastic fork, Sid held up with the mystery meat. "It's like those weird cookbooks from the 60's when everyone was putting Jell-O in everything like some big weirdo creep!"

"Without any tastebuds," Helga added with a grin before pushing her tray away and leaning in to her two bandmates. "I got him."

Sid and Stinky exchanged a look with one another before returning their eyes to Helga.

"Got…who?" Sid asked slowly as though trying to figure out the answer before he had finished his question.

Leaning even further in, the boys following suit before Helga looked between them and whispered, "Our drummer." They all leaned back into their neutral positions. "I got us a drummer!"

"Yeah?!" Sid exclaimed with excitement. "Who did you get? Is it that senior in marching band? Is it some awesome drummer from out of town? Who'd you get, Helga? Who'd you get!?"

"Cool your jets, Bootsy Barker, lemme tell you, alright?" A pause followed to give her the excuse she needed to explain her announcement. Taking a deep breath, Helga let out the name of her mysterious new bandmate. "Iggy."

"Iggy?" Both Stinky and Sid repeated with wide eyes.

"Uh… yeah. Who else is perfect for this band but him? I mean, the kid's in Elite Jazz Band, okay? That band requires you to show up like an hour before school even STARTS of his own free will. He's good. We need him. And I GOT him!"

Leaning away from Helga's excited outburst, Sid spoke for Stinky when he said, "Wow, Helga. Ig-Iggy, huh? Like Iggy Ortega, Iggy? "

"DOI, that Iggy. For cripes sake, how many 'Iggy's do you know?" Helga griped. "What's the issue, anyway? We need a drummer, I got us a drummer. You idiots should be stoked."

Crossing his arms confidently and shaking his head upward so his nose was in the air. "He won't play with us."

"Yeah," Stinky repeated while following Sid's movements to also shift his nose high into the sky. "He won't play with us even if we gave him a million, trillion dollars."

Eyeing the two supposed 'holier than thou' individuals, Helga blinked once and took the bait. "And why exactly are you two numbskulls so sure that he won't play with you?"

"Because he's a no good, rotten, grudge-holding monster" Sid stated with only a dash of anger.

Stinky on the other hand merely said, "Probably onacounta that time we told everyone about those floppy eared bunny pajamas and then the whole school made fun'a him for it for a long time."

"Seriously?" Helga asked with a deadpan expression. "That was like what? 5th grade?"

"4th," Sid corrected, still keeping his chin high in the air.

"Well, he's gonna be our drummer after tonight so you'd better get over it." She said with her arms crossed loosely over her chest; hoping that the two boys wouldn't catch on her specific choice of words.

"Tonight?" Sid dropped his chin to look at her and Helga frowned.

Clearly, they weren't as dumb as she'd given them credit for.

Dropping her arms to rest on the cafeteria tabletop, Helga sighed. "Alright, alright. So he's not technically a yes, but he's gonna say yes, okay? I told him we'd meet him in his dad's garage. It's the perfect place for us to practice—"

"But what about—"

"No 'what about's okay? This is practically in the bag." She let out a laugh and managed, "I mean, it's kismet! Trust me."

"And what happens if you're wrong Helga?" Sid countered. "What happens if we get there and he joins our band and then every single time we meet up for rehearsal he laces our food slowly with poison until we die a slow, agonizing death? Huh?"

The lunch table went quiet for a moment as Sid huffed and puffed after describing the wildly detailed imaginary revenge.

After a moment, Helga said in a calm, cool voice, "Over a pair of Bunny Pajamas."

"YES, after Bunny Pajamas!" He exclaimed. "For all we know, he could have been plotting this for years we're giving him the golden opportunity to play out his sick revenge fantasies."

Nodding her head a few times while pursing her lips. "Watching a lot of true crime shows again, are we Sid?"

Red flushing to his cheeks minimally, Sid looked down to pick at his food. "I can't help it, okay? My dad plays them like, all day long."

"Alright," Helga announced as if to get everybody back onto the proper topic. "Tonight, paranoia aside, we are going to Iggy's and officially forming a band that will destroy Arnold's dinky little trio." Her voice rang with a victory she had yet to win.

She still had to convince Iggy.

The quiet boy sat atop the garage's outdoor freezer. The garage itself was bigger than Helga had anticipated, and the acoustics sounded pretty amazing—great for practicing music.

Looking over to Iggy, Helga took note of the dorky wristbands he wore around his wrists. They were the kind she'd seen people wear when working out in the 80's, but his featured cool designs and one even had a patch of what appeared to be an animal of some sort. He wore a tie-dye shirt with some band's graphic on the front. Continuing her observation of the boy she'd hardly said a word to in her life, she noticed his thick glasses that were tinted from the light of the sunshine bleeding into the garage. Tinted they may be, they were partially hidden by his shaggy brown hair which peaked out under a beanie-style hat.

Iggy swung his legs back and forth to a rhythmic noise he created by hitting the cooler with the heels of his converse shoes—the tops of them hidden by baggy jeans that were worn at the cuffs. "Well?" He said after a solid minute of silence, "you said you had a proposal for me. So why are they here?"

"You didn't even tell him about the band?!" Sid stage whispered though Helga waved him off to begin talking.

"These two and I are starting a band. We wanted you to be the drummer. You in?"

He looked between each of the three in his garage and then returned his eyes to Helga. "Me. In a band…. with you guys—"

"I knew this wasn't gonna work," Sid grumbled while crossing his arms, though Helga proceeded to try and seal the deal.

"Yeah. I mean, think about it—making our own music. Not being stuck in a musical bubble like when you're in band and that other fancy band."

"Elite Jazz Band," Iggy immediately corrected.

"Right, Elite Jazz Band. Now, those are some cool bands but, and judging by your shirt, I doubt that it's the kind of music you want to play." She paused for dramatic effect. "Am I right?"

"Sure," He agreed while dumping down from the freezer to stand in front of everyone at their eye-level. "But why would I join your band?"

"What, you can't tell me you have other offers," Helga shot back. "Look, we need a drummer, and you are the guy I first thought of. That has to count for something. C'mon—I don't remember anybody unless it matters."

"You mean unless it benefits you," Iggy argued but soon sighed. "I'll give it a shot, okay? What are we called?"

"The Stink-O's—" Stinky tried, but Helga shut him down with a glare. "Well what do you reckon we call ourselves then Miss Helga?"

She tapped her chin deep in thought until Sid spoke up. "We could call ourselves 'Urban Legend'."

Still in thought, Helga shook her head and muttered out, "There was a band there already named that and they sucked. No we need something smart, something quick, something….witty." She spun around to address Iggy. "What do you got?"

Thinking for a while before shoving his hands into his jeans pocket and a smile appeared on his brace-face. "Pearls of Witticism."

As soon as the words left his lips, Helga knew that this band thing was a good idea—she felt it in her bones. "Pearls of Witticism, huh? I-I love it."

"You're kidding," Sid whined. "You agree with this jamoke? What does the pearls even have to do with anything? Pearls? Who ever heard of a hardcore awesome band with the word Pearl in it."

Helga turned to Sid and smirked. "Pearl Jam. This name is clever. It's a play on words and ads an education impression that we're different than the other bands out there… That's good Iggy. Really good."

As if a weight had lifted from him, Iggy stood tall. "Well, we can use the garage here to practice. It should be plenty big enough. When do we start?"

"Tomorrow after school," Helga replied while taking a few steps passed the boys to look out at the world beyond the garage. "Tomorrow, we start prepping to dominate that Battle of the bands."

Hello friends! Here's the next chapter! From here on out, there are going to be a lot of songs that I'll list that inspired the chapter. The one today is "Bulls in Brooklyn" by: The Academy Is...

Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!

-Polka