Since the Slausen's showdown between Arnold and Helga, a sense of closure settled into the teenagers. Each of the two band frontrunners from Pearls of Witticism and Three Amigos and a Keyboard were hard at work practicing their sets the moment the final bell rang each day at the end of school, and rehearsals often went late into the night.

For Helga, this meant that her journal hadn't seen the tip of her pen in what felt like ages.

Only a few days until Battle of the Bands,

Helga scrawled in her journal before leaving for band practice.

and I'm surprised at how prepared I feel for the whole thing.

Everyone is pretty hyped for it. No doubt it's going to be busier than sin at the Flytrap, but that's good for Pearls of Witticism. Did I tell you we're making merch?

It was ALL Wolfie's idea. He is SO COMMITTED to the band, and he doesn't even play with us. I honestly don't know what we'd do without all of his help and constant constructive criticism.

"Are you guys trying to lose?" Wolfgang hollered over their music that Monday, each of the members in Pearls of Witticism slowly coming to a stop with their respective instruments. "That riff needs to be TIGHT, am I right? You fuck that up, Sid, and you fuck up the whole song."

"Who asked you anyway, Wolfgang?" Sid spat back angrily. "Why are you even here? All you do is tell us how much we suck."

"Wolfgang is trying to help us, you nimwit," Helga replied. "If all we do is listen to ourselves without any outside feedback, we're not going to know what the crowd hears. What they feel."

Sid let out a long sigh and tilted his head back in frustration. "Yeah, yeah, I know, Helga. You've only told us that a million times!"

"Look, if you don't want me here, I can easily just leave," Wolfgang suggested facetiously. "Afterall, it isn't like you guys need me to lug around your shit, sell your merch – which was my idea, by the way – or anything."

"C'mon, dude, that's not fair!" Iggy stood up from his drum stool. "All we're saying is that you're being too harsh."

"What, you want me to sugarcoat it?"

"Shut up, already!" Helga shouted, her voice echoing around the small garage. "Criminy! You guys are worse than a bunch of toddlers sometimes, you know that?" Silence answered her hypothetical question, and Helga took a deep breath; her right hand reaching up to hold the bridge of her nose in irritation.

"How about we just… order pizza early and take a break for the night," she finally said, Wolfgang audibly disagreeing with the idea.

"You wanna quit now when B-O-T-B is this so close?" He scoffed at the concept and stood from where he'd been sitting on a nearby amp.

"I just think everyone is really tired and we could use a night of just… fun and relaxing." Helga crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. "It's not that we don't want your help, I just…"

"No, no," Wolfgang interrupted with a shake of his hand in her direction. "Don't worry about me, babe. I'm just trying to help, okay?" He walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, looking down into her eyes. "I just worry about you."

His eyes bore into hers and she felt a swoon begin to grow up her body from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair. "Nothing to worry about, Wolfie," she reassured. "We've got this thing in the bag."

Sid mimicked a gag and Iggy suppressed his laughter so Wolfgang and Helga wouldn't notice their teasing.

"I hope you're right," he answered skeptically. Leaning down to press his lips against hers, Helga ignored the boys around her and sunk into the kiss. "Text me," he ordered with a wink, and left the garage without another word.

"About time," Sid groaned, unplugging his guitar, and pulling the strap from around his neck.

Unfortunately, the guys aren't exactly appreciative of all his help. Sure, they're always stoked he helps us with lugging our shit around for the band and when he picks up the tab for dinner or milkshakes after a show. But the SECOND he tries to help us be BETTER, they get all butt-hurt and rag on him.

Of course, they're more understanding than Olga since she caught us kissing in his van before he dropped me off the other night.

Pheebs though… she avoids it altogether. She knows that it'll open a big can of worms, and she ALSO knows that the second she brings up MY dating decisions, I'll turn it around to her and Tall Hair Boy.

But Sid, Iggy, and surprisingly Stinky (even though he is STILL dating little miss perfect) seem to get that Wolfgang and I are a better match than Arnold and I EVER were.

"I do not see what you see in that guy, Helga," Sid went on, squatting down to fiddle with the amp he'd been plugged into. "He's a jerk."

"He's not a jerk," Helga argued, wandering over to pick up her phone and turn it off of 'silent' mode. "Wolfie's just… not afraid to speak his mind or tip-toe around anyone. You guys know I need someone like that in my life, someone who can keep up with my impeccable wit and imaginative sass."

"Keeping up with you is one thing, G," Iggy commented, setting his drumsticks to the side, and standing to stretch his arms up to the ceiling. "Controlling you and everyone around you is a different story."

"Control me?" Helga repeated, confounded by such a statement. "Me?" She let out a loud guffaw in disagreement. "You've got to be joking. Nobody controls Helga G. Pataki."

"I dunno…" Stinky remained unconvinced where he stood, bass still hanging from his neck. "I reckon that Wolfgang is a no-good user and abuser, just like my cousin Winnie used to tell me about my ex-aunt."

"Yeah," Sid agreed under mild confusion at Stinky's anecdote, though he continued with his train of thought nonetheless. "And that's coming from three guys. You gotta be messed up to set off our alarms."

"Listen," Helga commanded, turning around to look at all three of her bandmates. "I like Wolfgang, okay? And he likes me. Sure, he's a little… rough around the edges, but so am I, aren't I? And you guys don't seem to mind me."

The boys exchanged a look, silently nominating Iggy to respond. "If you say so, Helga. Just remember who bullied who when we were kids."

"You guys are all a bunch of chumps," Helga joked, though the boys didn't find her comment particularly humorous. "C'mon. Let's order pizza and pop on one of the Evil Twins movies – I'm famished."

At least, I hope they see that now. Wolfgang can be tough, mean sometimes even. But so am I, you know? The problem with me and Arnold was that he just… let me walk all over him. I need someone to push me back so I can be the best version of myself, even if it hurts sometimes.

And that is what makes me and Wolfgang the perfect couple.

We push each other. Sometimes I know best, and other times he does since he's older (but it isn't by much, you know? He's 16 and I'm 14. 2 years is practically nothing anyway. Bob and Miriam were like three years apart and THEY got married, disaster or not).

But I know that they'll come around. I think everyone is just so hard on him because of how we were when we were kids, and that's not really fair. Wolfgang has had a really hard life and I KNOW he's worried about what people think of him.

Like, the other day, he was telling me about his dad, and he said –

"My dad is such a dickweed," Wolfgang complained before taking a big bite from his triple-stack hamburger.

"Oh yeah?" Helga replied, scooping a big spoonful of chocolate ice cream out of her banana split. "What did he do this time?"

"It's not what he's done lately, or anything," he explained, his eyes glancing just past Helga to stare at an empty spot on the wall. "But he really fucked me up, you know?"

"Boy, do I," Helga responded, soon shaking her head to add, "not about you I mean. I just mean about dads in general."

"Ever worry you'll turn into your parents?" Wolfgang asked suddenly, his brow furrowing in deep concentration.

Helga found this an entertaining concept. "What, like a miserable alcoholic? Or a miserable, cheating asshole?" Helga's gaze dropped and she swirled her spoon in the melted treat that mixed with the other colors of to make a sugary, creamy work of art at the bottom of her bowl. "I already got the miserable part down."

"I'm serious, Helga." His voice was hushed, and he seemed to focus on the action of chewing his large bite of food. "What if I end up like my old man? Bitter. Mean. Torturing my wife and kids."

"You won't turn into that," Helga told him, her arm outstretching to grab his free hand with hers.

"But how do you know?" He argued, pulling his hand away from hers. "I'm already such a deadbeat, it's only a matter of time before -"

"Hey!" Helga forcefully interjected "You aren't some deadbeat and you're not going to become one either. I don't associate myself with people like that, you got it?"

A warm smile took over Wolfgang's face at the sincerity of her reassurance. "I can't believe someone like you could believe in someone like me."

"Of course, I believe in you, Wolfie."

It was his turn to reach out and take her one hand with both of his. "All we really need is each other, right? You'll always be there for me, and I'll always be there for you."

His words enveloped Helga in a bubble of euphoria. Wolfgang claimed that he was the lucky one? As far as Helga was concerned, it was her who was lucky.

I think the reason the guys are MOST 'worried' about me and Wolfgang is because they're jealous. Not jealous as if THEY want to date me – that would NEVER happen – but jealous because I spend so much time with him over them.

Right before Wolfgang and I started getting really close, I was hanging out with the guys a LOT. And it isn't like we don't STILL hang out or anything. There's band practice which Wolfgang isn't ALWAYS there for, and lunch of course. Wolfgang doesn't even go to our school since our high school doesn't start catering to students until sophomore year.

Honestly, I'd spend even MORE time with Wolfgang if I could. I can't WAIT to be in the same building as him so I can see him as much as we text. He just... makes me feel so good, you know? Like I'm the only thing that matters to him in his entire world. Like I'm the best thing that ever happened to him.

I've never been the best thing that's ever happened to ANYONE, and I've certainly never felt as needed as I do with Wolfgang. But not like... BAD need. It's a good kind.

"Helga!" Sid yelled while waving a hand in front of the girl's face. "Earth to Helga! Are you still with us or what?"

"She's probably texting Wolfgang again," Iggy assumed without much inflection. "That's usually what she's doing when she's that sucked into her phone."

"Especially during a freakin' new Ghosts on Jupiter movie! I didn't spend my allowance to rent this thing so you could blow off it off, you know!"

"Jesus, take a chill pill, Bootsy," Helga retorted, hitting the button on the side of her phone to darken the screen from her virtual conversation. "I think we need to find you a girl to date so you can bug her instead of me."

Sid frowned. "I'm not interested in dating some chick - "

"Fine," the teen replied with a wicked grin. "A guy then."

"Helga!"

"I'm sure Eugene is available," Helga continued, though she was soon hit with one of the pillows off of Sid's bed.

"Not funny, Helga," he told her through laughter that said otherwise. "Eugene wouldn't even be my type!"

"So, you've thought about it then?"

"Helga!" He hollered once again, the other Pearls laughing at Sid's expense. After a minute or so had passed, Stinky snatched the popcorn bag they'd been passing around and pulled out a handful of kernels.

"Aw man!" He whined out. "You guys ate all the popcorn! That really bites..."

"You know what really bites?" Iggy asked the group, giving them no time to answer. "I heard that we're gonna be one of ten bands this weekend at Venus. That's practically Lollapalooza."

"I reckon it is a battle, ain't it?"

"Stink-O's right, strangely enough. This show is bound to be the biggest event Hillwood teenagers have seen in their lives." Helga looked between each of her bandmates with certainty. "We'll smoke them all, though. Who cares where these bands are coming from - "

"Supposedly from the entire surrounding area," Iggy emphasized, but Helga merely kept going as though she hadn't heard a word he said.

With unmatched intensity, she shoved a thumb into her chest as she spoke. " - I know that we've got what it takes to mop the floors with whoever wants to tussle musically... or otherwise."

"Even Arnold?"

Attention shot over to Stinky who looked unsurely at the three pairs of eyes now staring at him with a mixture of expressions.

Breaking the tense silence, Helga's voice rumbled as though she were speaking in a low growl. "By the time we're through with Shortman and his little band of losers," she promised while narrowing her eyes with determination, "I practically guarantee they'll never want to show their faces on the Venus stage again."

Anyway, I gotta get myself ready for band practice. It's the last time all the Pearls will be able to meet before the big battle on Saturday, which was a whole ass annoyance in itself seeing as they had to change the date from what was ORIGINALLY a Friday night due to some stupid printing error.

Oh well. Gives us more time to figure out what we'll be performing. Seeing as Stinky has family visiting until the weekend, just Sid, Iggy and I will be able to meet tonight to decide which three songs we'll be performing. Should be pretty easy considering I've only written five so far.

I'll update you with our official set later.

~Helga

With Battle of the Bands around the corner, lunchtime on Thursday afternoon was buzzing with anticipation for the weekend's imminent show. Far from Helga's table in the cafeteria, Arnold sat alone with Addie and a notebook; feverishly writing their ideas as fast as they were spoken.

"Backtrack!" Addie announced, leaning over the table to look at what Arnold wrote down. "I was thinking about the word all night and it really struck a chord with me – no pun intended."

Arnold looked up from the lines of the notebook with a grin that took over nearly his entire face. "Me too, honestly. And it's so easy to play off of."

"Exactly!"

"Do you think we can finish this fast enough and have it ready in time for Battle of the Bands this weekend?"

Furrowing her brow, Addie replied, "I don't know," as her hand came up to rest in a thoughtful fist under her chin. "That would only give us a couple of days to memorize it and come up with a melody - "

"You don't think we can do it?"

Addie glanced down at the notebook dotted with loose phrases and lyrics that could be strung together for a new song. She considered the set list they'd planned to perform; the total of their songs adding up to only ten of their allotted fifteen minutes. As if thinking out loud, Addie said slowly, "If we spent all of Saturday rehearsing... before we had to do sound check – "

"Gerald does have a quick ear for melody," Arnold pushed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "And I can help finish the lyrics with you." A light hue of pink began to cover his cheeks at the idea. "I mean... if you, if you wanted me to, that is. I'm not exactly the best writer."

"Don't sell yourself short there, Shortman," she grinned while using the affectionate nickname she'd heard his grandfather call him many a time during her visits to the boarding house. "Look at how much you've already written!"

"This?" He practically scoffed when looking down at the words he'd scribbled almost absentmindedly for future inspiration. "Most of it are things people already say. Not really creative or original..."

Addie tsked her tongue and leaned in to begin reading aloud what he'd written down. "Sink or swim. Be mine, Valentine. Growth. Bloom." She nodded her head more to herself than to him. "That's how I write a lot of the time. It's always really disjointed before I start putting anything together."

"Really?" Arnold asked in wonderment at her process, especially when compared to Helga's which seemed so different. "So, it's not weird that I have a whole page of words that rhyme with these?" He flipped a few pages into the notebook where unrelated words littered the lines in all directions like a work of written art.

Addie couldn't help but laugh. "Definitely not weird. Check it out," she insisted while pulling out her own notebook where she'd done similar things with one word alone: backtrack. "I thought, after we talked the other day, that there were a lot of cool things we could do with that word. Phrases. Rhythms. The whole shebang. And since I see that word on your list - " a ringed finger reached out to point to the same word listed in Arnold's notebook " - we can compare notes."

"Hopefully you'll come up with better material than I have," Arnold discounted himself, but Addie was anything but agreeing.

"Arnold. Nobody starts out some brilliant writer, or artist, or musician. That kind of stuff takes practice and if you don't practice without downing on yourself every single time, you'll never get any better." Her smile pursed to an expression of hard sincerity.

The football-headed teen only smirked. "I'm just not exactly... a creative thinker."

"Well, that's entirely not true" she argued. "Ma always used to tell me when I was discouraged by my art, that creativity isn't the same for anybody. That's what makes everything, even things you don't consider art, an art."

"Huh?"

Addie sighed and twisted her body so she could pull up one leg and tuck it under her butt while facing Arnold more directly. "When you think about art, what do you think of?"

He shrugged his shoulders, befuddled by the question. "I don't know. Writing of course. Painting. Music. Dancing. That sort of thing."

"Okay, and what do all of those things do? For the person that makes them and the people who take it in?"

Again, Arnold shrugged out of instinct. "I guess they express emotions and feelings. But that isn't - "

Ignoring him, Addie spoke over his soon-to-be excuse. "So, you could say, that those things come from the heart and soul. They're passionate. And they don't have to be good to you, but no doubt they'll be good to someone else."

"Right," Arnold agreed, trying to get another word in edgewise. "But that's not the sa –"

"Now if passion is all that's required to have something be 'art,'" Addie continued "than what about people who make football plays? Isn't that sort of like making up dances and requires its own artform? How about carpenters? Sure, it's their job, but isn't what they do a lot like sculptors or painters?"

"Addie, that's not the same th –" Arnold attempted one last time, and again, Addie foiled his plan at a rebuttal.

"What I'm trying to say is that everything in this crazy world requires some sort of creativity, don't you think?" Addie waited for him to consider her point. "When I was frustrated because I didn't think I was a good writer because I didn't get accepted for this silly kid's magazine poetry contest, you know what my ma told me?"

Arnold didn't bother asking as he knew the answer was already on its way out her mouth.

"She said that comparison is the serial killer of all art. Just like I can't compare my stuff to someone else's, you can't sit there and say you're not a 'creative thinker.'"

In that instant, his green eyes looked down at the words he'd written which stared up at him from the notebook.

"Nobody's art is the same, that's what makes it beautiful" she explained just above a whisper in the loud cafeteria. Despite her hushed tone, Addie's words were the only thing Arnold could hear above the chatter of their fellow peers. It was almost as though what she said was the only thing that mattered in that instant. "Give yourself some credit, okay? You haven't even written anything yet, so you can't really say you don't have a talent for writing."

The surrounding noise came back instantly like Arnold had been thrust back into reality from some alternate dimension he'd been accidentally lost in. "Actually," he admitted hesitantly, thinking back to the poem he'd written for Helga so many years ago. The poem she'd evidently disliked so much she'd forgotten it entirely when he brought it up last. "I did write something. Once."

Addie watched as he shook his head of the memory, and instinctively, she placed her hand over Arnold's; gripping it tightly. "And I bet it was wonderful. In an original Arnold Shortman sort of way."

The pair looked at one another for a moment before simultaneously glancing down at their hands as they held one another's atop the cafeteria table. With one more squeeze of his hand, Addie took a deep breath and finally let go to return hers to her lap. "So… backtrack. What would backtracking look like to you?"

"C'mon…" Helga whined amid extreme focus on her image in the bathroom mirror. "Come on! Just go through for cripes sake!" Her hands were shaking from the anxiety and strength she'd been using in an attempt to force the old earring stud through the lobe of her right ear. After another groan, she dropped her hand, stud still in her grip, to rest on the bathroom counter.

"Criminy, why was the left one so freakin' easy?"

"Because you're right-handed," Wolfgang answered from where he stood watching in the doorway. "And it was me who finally got it through, remember?"

Helga sighed dramatically and dropped her head to look directly into the sink below. "I am perfectly capable of piercing my own ear, okay?"

Wolfgang shrugged his shoulders, a small smirk on his lips. "That's what you keep telling me..."

"Olga isn't about to let me get the piercings I want, not at 14 at least." She twisted the stud around between her index finger and thumb. "Getting her to let me dye my hair was enough of a battle on its own."

"And your mom?" Wolfgang suggested. "Thought you said she was an alcoholic, so why would she care what you get done to your body?"

"She probably wouldn't if she was still an alcoholic," Helga emphasized with a roll of her eyes. "But now she's on some health kick for her recovery or something. Miriam may not have cared an iota about me when I was a kid, but she's certainly overkilling the motherly love thing now."

Growing tired of the complaining on his girlfriend's part, Wolfgang dropped his head back and groaned in irritation. "Would you just let me do it for you already? You've been in here cursing at my mirror for an hour now and I thought we could hang out on the couch, pig out on pork rinds, and watch a movie or something."

"I just want to look good for Battle of the Bands, Wolfie!" She shouted in retaliation for his impatience. "I'm the frontman for the band, you know. I gotta look cool and real rockers have piercings."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Pataki."

"Whatever," she responded while reluctantly offering the earring to Wolfgang. "Just do it already. I need a cigarette."

The moment Wolfgang managed to push the stud through the soft skin of Helga's earlobe, Arnold, Addie, and Gerald were at Sunset Arms and on the brink of a musical epiphany for their new song.

Twisting back and forth in the computer chair beside his keyboard, Gerald tapped his mechanical pencil against his chin in thought. "So, this song is about Helga, right?"

"Not in so many words," Addie quickly answered for Arnold who sat quietly on his couch with a notebook in his lap. "It's a generic song about ending any kind of relationship that may have been... troubled."

"So, Helga" he reiterated and was given an annoyed look by Arnold in response.

Ever trying to keep the peace between the two friends, Addie glanced between them both and continued trying to cover for her football-headed friend. "You know, I've had my fair share of experiences in this department too, Gerald."

"Really, now?" He countered with a raise of his brow. "With who?"

"Not personally," Addie continued. "But seeing what Nadine went through with Rhonda... it's very similar. And from what she's told me, she isn't interested in getting back the toxic relationship Rhonda gave."

"Don't wanna get back, what you gave back," Arnold mumbled to himself before putting pen to paper and writing the words down before he could forget them.

Oblivious to Arnold's writing, Gerald smirked and leaned in towards Addie, resting his elbows on his thighs as he did so. "Look, I'm not trying to start an argument here, Add. I just wanna help him get over Pataki if that's what this song is about."

"It's not just about one thing, Gerald," Addie said with exasperation. "Trust me when I say that if a song's theme isn't universal, people aren't going to listen. So, if you want to help, why don't you tap into your recent stuff with Phoebe."

This elicited a frown from the tall-haired teen, and he sat up straight in the chair; a blank expression blanketing his face. "Dude..." he breathed out while crossing his arms over his chest. "Not cool."

Perking his head up from the page he was writing on, Arnold looked over to his frustrated friend. "Gerald, she's just trying to help. And... she does have a point."

"And what point is that?"

"That you need to work out some of your feelings too," Arnold replied immediately. "It isn't like you've been talking about them a whole lot - "

"Okay, but the way I feel about Phoebe is nothing like this song you two are writing," Gerald insisted. "All I wanted to do was grow with her but she'd rather..." He huffed out a deep breath in a disappointed sigh. "Phoebe is just different, okay? And I want her back, but she doesn't want me and that's the complete opposite of what we're writing."

"Who sad you had to write words for your feelings?" Arnold retorted. "Addie and I have no problem writing the lyrics, but you haven't even touched the keyboard yet, Gerald. We don't have a song if we don't have music."

"Plus, we're already short a song for our set list," Addie reminded her bandmates. "We get so much time to show what we've got, and I don't know about you, but I don't want to waste it. One song could make the difference between us winning or someone else."

"Like the Pearls," Arnold mumbled more to himself than the other occupants in his room.

Gerald silently nodded his head as if absorbing the information. "Right," he finally said mid-spin of the chair to face himself towards the keys. "Arnold, what was that line you said a minute ago? The one you said and started writing down while Addie and I were fighting."

"We weren't fighting - " Addie tried, but Arnold spoke over her to answer Gerald's question.

"I wrote, 'don't wanna get back what you gave back'"

"I'm moving forward, not moving on," Addie added with a wink and Arnold fought back the rush that flooded through his system at her gesture.

"Alright, alright" Gerald muttered, his fingers playing a few chords repeatedly on the keyboard. "What other words do you guys have? Obviously 'backtrack' but like... I don't know. Back... back..." he continued playing the same notes over and over before at last singing with the tune he'd created, "It's such a setback when you..."

"Talk smack?" Arnold wondered aloud, though he recanted his idea in embarrassment. "Nevermind, that sounds dumb, doesn't it?"

"I think it's great!" Addie encouraged, her excitement springing her up from the chair she sat at so she could readjust to sitting on her feet. "Okay, we're talking smack, talking back... I don't miss that?"

Gerald played the chords at hyperspeed while repeating the lyrics they'd discussed moments prior. "Don't wanna get back, what you gave back. I'm moving forward, not moving on. It's such a setback when you talk smack, I don't miss that... now that you're gone!"

"Yes! That's it, Gerald!" His football-headed friend exclaimed, writing the words down hurriedly.

Addie leaned in to look at what Arnold had written so far, and her eyes caught sight of some of the random lines he'd scribbled in the margins. "Sink or swim, now's your time," she read aloud, sitting up and closing her eyes to think through the next part. "Prove to me you're not mine -"

"We could make that part kind of fast," Gerald suggested, playing a new set of chords to match what Addie had said. "Then add in an ending like... 'unless all you wanna do is' and then we put three beats in there," he slapped his thigh to mark the three second pause in the song, "then we can all three sing but also kinda shout: backtrack!"

A wide grin took over Arnold's face as the song started to come together between the musical trio. "You guys... we could actually win this thing."

"Not if we don't finish the song first, man!" Gerald shot back over his shoulder, a small smile forming on his lips. "Let's take it from this chorus. One, two, three!"

Helga pulled out her journal the second Wolfgang had dropped her off. She'd practically begged him to leave Venus early and take her to the emergency room but being there for Arnold wasn't her place anymore.

She knew that.

But this wasn't about being there for Arnold.

At least… not really.

"Criminy, I can't even feel bad for the kid just because we aren't dating anymore?" She asked herself aloud while frantically flipping through the pages of the notebook to find the next clean sheet. "What does Wolfie expect? I'm not heartless for cripes sake."

Grabbing a nearby pen, Helga clicked the top so she could begin writing out her feelings instead of telling them to her empty bedroom.

So, I'm sure you're wondering how BOTB went tonight.

Helga stared at the words she'd written and closed her eyes, flashes of memories from the night dancing behind her lids. Fluttering her eyes open, she pressed her pen to the paper again and let her every thought paint the blank paper with dark pink ink.

Basically, there are three big things that happened and I'm not sure how to handle them so I'm gonna list them out and then deal with them one by one.

Because I think that's the only way I can do this.

She numbered the paper and began filling in the space beside each number.

1.) We won the Battle of the Bands

Seeing the words on the paper meant nothing. the win still didn't feel real because nothing did.

2.) Arnold straight up walked off the stage and disappeared mid-set

Tapping the pen repeatedly on the spot she'd marked 'three,' Helga remained lost in her head, images of her running out the door of the Fly Trap taking over her thoughts.

"Oh my god," she'd said over and over again as she ran into the parking lot in a frenzy. "Oh my god, oh my god, this can't be happening!"

At last, Helga pushed herself to fill in the blank of her last important event from the night neither her or Arnold would surely forget.

3.) Gertie's in the hospital again. And this time, she might not make it.

Reading the words over as if to make the concept process through her mind, tears began streaming down Helga's face.

I want to see her, even though it's none of my business. I want to be there for Arnold even though I'm still so angry at him though I pretend I'm over it all.

Her pen pressed harder and harder into the paper as her emotions built up to a rage she could hardly control.

I don't even know what happened, so don't go asking. All I know is Miles showed up, took Arnold and–

She fixated her attention on each of the letters in the boy's name.

"I'm so sorry, Arnold," she whispered to the silence before sobs overtook her once more.

PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! Life happens and so does sickness and death and as much as we want everyone of our beloved characters to live forever, that isn't how the world works unfortunately.

I promise the next chapter will explain everything a lot more. I know things are rough with AddiexArnold and HelgaxWolfgang but each plot with them has been strategically planned for an eventual good outcome. Addie is here for a reason. Her character is more than a plot point for Arnold. Wolfgang... is also here for a reason but he IS just a plot point for Helga lol so bear with it all. Most of these plot points are based on real-life experiences I either had or watched my friends have in middle/high school.

Please review and lemme know what you think. See you at the next chapter!

-Polka