Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.

Full Summary:: What was the saying? Good fences make great neighbors? Helga thinks she may come to regret her home purchase when she sets her eyes on the neighbor behind her. Or maybe just wish the fence was a lot taller...or shorter. She'd yet to decide.

Housekeeping: Hidy Ho neighbors! Yes, yes I know I should be working on DF and I am I promise, but I told you guys that I write comedy when I'm super stressed and it is THAT time a year. Pray for me. I need it. Lol. Now onto the story...this is one of two little rom-coms that I've had rattling around in my head for the last...oh, I'd say year. Like all my stories, there is a fair amount of real life inspiration for this, but I'm not going to say what just yet, because it'll give too much away.

A/N: So, again, this first chapter has a lot of time jumps in it that are necessary to preface the meat of this story.

Penny for your thoughts,

A fortune for your disaster.

June 2006

There it was. The argument of the century. The argument of all arguments in the middle of Rhonda's second floor hallway, with a party rocking all around them. Over what? Over the fact that she couldn't ever find it in herself to just leave him alone. Always with the snide remarks over anything and everything he did, and this had been going on since middle school, since...after they saved the neighborhood really. Well...there had been a solid year of niceties and post confession-heat-of-the-moment awkwardness, but it was almost like she had spent the year rejuvenating all of her old animosity towards him for new and better attempts at making his life miserable.

His grandpa and joked that it was only because she liked him, something his own father had also echoed on the days when he'd stalked home from school after she had put him in an utterly foul mood with her...relentlessness.

But that was behavior for kids, right?

Surely no eighteen-year old girl would be tormenting a guy she actually liked. Surely she would be flirty, giggly and nice like every other girl whom he'd caught the eye of.

And, so help him, he should have just done what he normally did and just ignored her and kept walking as he passed her while leaving the bathroom. Yes, Helga...it is bitch beer, so nice of you to notice. Yes, Helga I like pansy malt beverages. Yes, Helga I put my big boy pants on and partook in underage drinking like a normal dude.

But no. Noooooo. Feeling ever emboldened, probably by the five Smirnoff Ices in his system by then, and maybe because that party was the last summer hoorah before they all—or most of them—departed for college, he had to spit back the harshest of clap backs he could think of. The ole' 'Fuck off'. Yes, he knew it was barely PG-13 in the modern world around him but for him, to utter such a strong word, was a big effing' deal.

Of course rather than be shell shook by it as he had hoped she would be, considering it was the only time he'd really ever snipped back at her harassment, much less so aggressively, it instead seemed to ignite a fuse she'd been carrying around for God knew how long.

For Helga's part, she never totally figured out why she still always wanted to be so mean to him. Perhaps it was because she couldn't really grapple with her feelings for him in the ways she would have liked to. Perhaps it was because he was still so naive to what as obvious. To her anyway. But that wasn't all of it, and she knew it. She'd thought she'd found some semblance of peace after getting everything off of her chest after the dust settled when they blew up the jumbotron, even with the reneging of her confession and his utter complacency in her efforts to erase away her slip up. Yet, the popularity that ensued afterwards, and the attention that he received, particularly from other girls began to, once again, sour her peace.

Of course the fact that he grew into being quite the tall, and handsome fellow did nothing to ease her turmoil.

And, as usual, her mean-spirited, tough girl side had always been eager to take over and defend her vulnerabilities in any situation—a nasty little Bob trait—and well, if she couldn't have his attention in the way that she truly wanted it, perhaps she'd just live rent free in his head for other reasons.

She loathed herself for it, she really did.

But, that night, she admittedly lost control of that knee-jerk reaction to defend herself from any sort of attack when he finally stood up for himself with a strong duo of words.

For him anyway.

"What did you say to me, Football Head?" Her face hardened in the dimness of the hallway, daring him to repeat what she'd been sure she heard him say, even with the loudness of the music downstairs.

Arnold held his glower, refusing to back down from a girl that he should have put in her place a long time ago, "What are you? Deaf?"

The word choice cut her more deeply than she would have liked, and she wasn't sure if he'd said it that way on purpose, knowing that that had been what she'd said to him after kissing him, or if it was just a dumb choice of words. She supposed that it didn't really matter. "My hearing is just fine."

"Well good," He sarcastically jibbed, "Then screw off and leave me alone. Can you comprehend that?"

"Can you comprehend that I'm about to put my foot up your ass?" She took a few steps towards him, holding out the hand that toted her solo cup full of booze, and pointing its index finger at him.

"Oh please..." Arnold sputtered, tripping over his own laughter as he held his arms out wider, feeling more confident that he'd gotten under her skin, "What exactly do you think you're going to do to me? You dumb little girl," He smirked condescendingly, "Oh that's right, nothing! Just like usual. You're nothing but all bark and no bite!"

Helga caught every one of his words as she stalked even closer to him, knowing that getting in such close proximity was the worst kind of idea but, he'd managed to push her buttons enough that she was almost on auto pilot, using his words as unwanted fuel to drive that missile closer. "Listen here, you daft brained little shit, I'm going to—"

"What? Knock me into next Wednesday?" Arnold taunted while taking a couple steps forward, right as Helga snatched a handful of his shirt into her grasp, yanking him to her level as she refused to be towered over. And while she wanted to clock him into next Sunday if he was going to be smart, or dump her tasty alcoholic concoction right on his stupid head, the scent of him had her stalling on either front. The smell of...old spice, black cherry malt beer and that unmistakable Arnold scent. An odd combination to behold, but very arousing. Though Arnold mistook her hesitation as undeniable proof of her inability to follow through with her hollow threats, when really, she was teetering on a very dangerous ledge that her tough girl attitude had finally over-reacted her into, "Just like I said..." He breathed, his furrowed brow and slanted bottle green eyes steadfastly trying to turn her to stone, "All bark and no bite. You're just an unhappy little bully, Helga, and you've never done a single thing to try to make yourself happier in life," He growled at her.

"I hate you," Helga harshly whispered back, unable to cobble together a better or, quite frankly, more believable comeback because her eyes had become too fixated on his face, and lips, and...that wonderful mouth that he had. A mouth that she'd often fantasized about doing the naughtiest of things to her. She hadn't even realized just how fast her heart was starting to pound, almost solidly galloping with Fall Out Boy's Dance Dance blaring downstairs, or just how tightly her fist had wound into the fabric of his shirt. Knuckles nearly white from tension.

She hated that song, but it was right about one thing: She always folded just before she was found out. And there had been good reason why she'd refused being friends with him.

"Why?"

"Because..." Helga began in a weaker voice before she managed to snap herself somewhat back into character, "Because you're an insufferable, do gooder and its about as fake as—"

"I've never given you a single reason to hate me, and you know it," Arnold replied with a hardening jaw, "But you've given me every reason under the sun to hate you...but I don't. And you want to know why?" She didn't care why. He was Arnold Shortman. He was a far better human being than she was. "Because I'm better than that."

"So help me, I'm about to knock your teeth in..." She seethed in warning.

Arnold tauntingly leaned in a little closer, really getting up in her face by that point, "Then do it! Do something for onc—" He was effectively cut off. Not by her fist, or by the slap of her palm, or even the solo cup of liquid still mostly forgotten in her other hand, but by her lips quite suddenly smashing themselves up against his. It left him stupefied. Unable to move, until she pushed into him a little harder and his free hand instinctively shot up between them to cease her spring attack on him.

Which sent Helga recoiling away as if he'd burnt her, looking dazed, and as if something had gone wrong. Horribly wrong. Because it had. She'd slipped and outed herself. Outed her deepest secret to someone who'd never requite the affection, "Shit..." He barely heard her murmur over the music. Her face morphed from absolute surprise before settling quite firmly back into downright disdain. With a mind still reeling with about a thousand jumbled thoughts, Arnold reached his hand out to her, only to receive a, "Go fuck yourself, Arnold." before she turned and made her way as fast as possible to the stairs.

"Helga...wait!" He didn't even know why he felt like he should go after her. She'd started it, she'd escalated it, and then she'd made it...well weird. And maybe that's what he wanted. Not to double check her well being, and possibly her mental health at that point, but a damn explanation!

Of course, as he weaved and bobbed around the fellow party patrons huddled on the stairs, leaning over the railing to peer into the crowd to try to spy her, his mind rationalized that perhaps she had just been more drunk than she had appeared.

The fiery blonde haired, blue eyed girl didn't spare the source of her internal disruption a second glance after she had told him what he could go do with himself for the rest of the night. Hating every word as it passed her teeth and wishing she could could have grabbed it from the air before it punched him in the ears.

Yet to stay and explain herself to his unwavering gaze was impossible to do, so she did what she'd done on so many occasions in her life. She booked it. She was done with him, she was done with princess'' dumb party, and in a few more weeks she'd be done with Hillwood too.

As she burst out of the mansion doors, pushing past stupid people choosing to loiter in the way of everything, she ruefully remembered that she'd ridden with Phoebe, whom she'd expected to be her DD for the evening considering her friend never partook in libations.

She upturned her cup to her lips, downing her mix drink while running a hand through her hair, attempting to get a little past buzzed before she went hunting for her sidekick.

The hard kick and whine of a dirt bike engine sputtered to life a few feet away from her, drawing her eyes towards it to catch a glimpse of another friend straddling the seat. Beanie pulled down over his ears and eyebrows, wearing a green V-neck, and checking something on his phone before pocketing it away into the front of his tight jeans.

Perhaps she had another way out of that God forsaken party than a scavenger hunt for Phoebe that could result in a second encounter with Arnold.

What the hell...

She tossed her empty cup into Rhonda's perfectly trimmed shrubs, hurriedly strolling over her other friend, quietly and stealthily slipping onto the bike behind him. The boy twisted around, when he felt a pair of hands touch his shoulders, making to question the bizarre situation before Helga cut him off with, "Take me wherever you're going," She demanded as politely as she was capable of to still ensure that she got her way.

He was either entertained by her off the wall action or too scared to tell her no. Either way she got what she wanted, because all he responded with was a shrug before he popped the bike into gear and taking off.

June 2018

That had been first time...in a very long time, that Helga had thought about the last Hillwood party she ever attended. And not that it worth much thought, because it hardly had been, but because there she was, having just turned thirty a few months prior and finding herself about to be in route back to her childhood town again. For more than just a visit.

Permanently, in fact.

At least for the foreseeable future, anyway.

She would have preferred to have stayed in Seattle, but the cost of living was so much less just thirty minutes up the road that it almost seemed like a cruel joke. That and her company had an office there, and had even agreed to let her work from home. Music to her ears, considering how much she hated most people. And of course, with it being much more rural and suburby, the schools had top notch Zillow ratings in comparison to the big city.

Which was very important considering... "Zoey..." She stepped into her daughter's room as the brown headed, little ten year old glumly marked the cardboard boxes of her things for the movers to take. "You about finished?"

"Yeah..." Her chocolate brown eyes flickered to her mother as she nodded and capped the sharpie in her small hands. Her bedroom furniture was staying, and Helga knew that that alone made it all the more confusing, but real to the child. No matter how convincing Helga had tried to be with why the move was taking place—her job—the truth was it was because she was splitting with Zoey's father. Now, her daughter was well aware of her parent's permanent separation. They hadn't tried to hide it from her on the least.

Yet, for her it didn't explain the need to move to a whole new city.

What her ten year old self couldn't wrap her head around was that, no matter how amicable her parent's divorce was, or how excellent of terms her mom and dad were on, her mother needed a change in her life. She needed a fresh start but without having to leap out of a company that she liked and into something unknown with so much already going on around her.

"Did you pack all of your clothes or are you going to leave some?" Helga inquired as she propped against the door jamb, "If you didn't, you'll have to remember to bring some things when daddy picks you up in a few weeks."

"I left some stuff," Zoey replied in a grouchy tone before casting her mother a slanted look that was identical to her own, "I wouldn't have to do that if we just stayed here."

Helga sighed. Parenthood had given her the patience of a saint, which in itself was surely a sign of the existence of God, "We've been over this." She had expected some resistance the closer to moving they had gotten, especially since it seemed to have not really resonated with Zoey when they'd first sat her down and explained what would be happening. She thought perhaps, it had finally sank in.

"Yeah well...I don't want to leave me friends."

"I know you don't."

"Then why are you making me move?"

Closing her eyes briefly, her mom then ran a hand through her hair, "Zo..." She tried, reopening her black rimmed blue eyes and giving her protege a slightly more stern look.

"Can I just stay with daddy?"

"You know that that isn't possible."

"Why not?"

"Because he's not home enough," The little bit of wind Zoey seemed to have, deflated from her small person as she slouched down on the end of her bed. Her mom was right. Even her dad had said that it was best that she went with her. It wasn't that she didn't want to go with her mom, or wanted to stay with her dad more. She didn't want to go anywhere new, period. Walking over, Helga seated herself beside the girl and wrapped her arm affectionately around her shoulders, giving her a much softer look, "I know it seems scary but...I've moved three times in my life. This being the third. Each time I've viewed it as a new adventure, and that made it not so bad. And hey, whether you remember or not, you moved from our first house to here. So, you've already got one move under your belt."

This made Zoey chuckle, and cast a small, lopsided smile in return, "I kind of remember." Helga gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Hey Mrs. Brazel?" One of the movers timidly peaked his head into the room, looking like he was afraid to interrupt.

"Yeah?" Helga replied, standing from the bed and walking towards the young man.

"Are we taking the whole master bedroom suite?"

"Whole thing. And if it's not too much to ask, do you guys mind moving the suite that's in the guest bedroom into the master once you're done?" The request sent the young man's eyes shifting back and forth in his skull, as if he didn't have the authority to approve such a request much less provide a semblance of an answer, "I don't mind paying you extra to do so." She was taking the main suite with her, and leaving him the one in the guest bedroom, the least she could do was move it for him she supposed.

"I can see."

Within the hour, the pair had their SUV loaded with most of the important things, while the movers followed with the storables, up the interstate to a city that she'd hoped to never return to. And to a house she'd never pictured herself returning to either.

Her parents.

As cringy as it felt going home at thirty—with a kid and a failed marriage on her resume at that—it was temporary and purely economical. Helga may have been headstrong and stubborn when it came to a lot of things, but she wasn't stupid. Zoey needed to get somewhat settled before the fall school semester, her divorce wasn't officially finalized for another couple months, and she was tired of tracking up the road every weekend to look at houses with her realtor. Her parents were about as understanding of the whole situation as they could reasonably be expected to be, but Helga was fairly sure that the only reason they agreed to the arrangement was because she gave them a hard move out date.

More or less she'd given herself a hard move out date, though she didn't see herself wanting to stay a minute longer to begin with.

Still, it made her chuckle. She hadn't returned home, outside of a visit, since she left for college at eighteen. Like she was planning to start or something.

For all their faults, they were decent grandparents to Zoey though. She'd give them that.

Her phone rang from the cup holder it was lodged in. Tilting it back to see the screen, she picked it up and whisked it to her ear while Zoey noseily leaned forward from the backseat, "Who is it?"

"Aunt Phoebe."

"Oh! Let me to talk to her!"

"No..." Helga waved her persistent child away.

July

With Zoey shipping off to her dad's for the next two weeks, Helga felt invigorated to get back into the house hunt that had stalled pretty quickly after arriving back to Hillwood. Not on purpose but it had been a bitch getting settled into her parents house and, well honestly she remembered why she left the second she had her ticket out.

Old age hadn't changed them a bit, but distance had made their little annoyances less memorable to her over time. Zoey was bored. And with boredom came mischievousness. In the past, Helga had booted her out of the house to play with the neighborhood kids so she wasn't driving her crazy on the weekends, something she would have killed to be able to do at that point. Especially now that she was working from home. Zoey would have killed, as equally hard for a playmate at that point just as well.

The experience had become a new line on Helga's 'would like' list for her home shopping. A house in a neighborhood that appeared to have families with children around Zoey's age. They had lucked into an active cul-de-sac in Seattle, where there had been four other houses with kids her age to play with.

Now the pressure felt on.

So, when Zoey's dad had shown up to take her for a couple of weeks, she'd practically forgotten half of her things because she couldn't clamor into his truck fast enough. If Helga hadn't been so ready for a break, she would have been damn offended by her daughter's eagerness to leave. But she was excited to get to return to play with her friends, which she needed.

"Good luck," Helga smirked at her ex as she leaned against the rolled down back passenger's window, "She's been about to drive me up the wall."

"Hey..." Zoey eyeballed her as Helga leaned in and gave her a kiss on the side of the head.

"Be good. I love you."

"Love you too," Her daughter replied.

"Text me when I need to come get her."

August

"Is it too late to be home-schooled?" Zoey asked, peering out of the car window at her new school, while in the morning drop off line. Glancing into the rear-view mirror, Helga saw her daughter nervously fidgeting with the loop of her book bag, biting her bottom lip as she stared through the glass.

It made her chuckle a little, "You really want to be stuck at home with me all day again?"

Zoey's eyes cut away from the building and to the mirror, casting her mom a half sneer of a smile as she shook her head, "Uh, no."

It made Helga snort. Particularly how much her daughter was unknowingly more and more like her. "Well, that's what home schooling is." Pulling to a stop in the drop off line, she twisted in her seat and looked more closely at the girl, "You'll be fine."

"What if nobody likes me?"

Helga rolled her blue eyes over the unlikeliness of the worry, "Well thankfully, and luckily, you got dad's likeableness and not too much of my grouchiness. You'll make plenty of friends."

"Sure," Zoey grumbled as she went to reach for the door handle after releasing her buckle.

"Besides, I'm sure you're not the only new kid this year."

"Yeah...yeah," The brown headed girl slid out of the SUV, shrugging her book bag onto her shoulders as she stared down her scariest adventure yet.

Helga had scheduled herself off that morning, mostly because it was the first day of school and she really didn't know how long it was going to take, but also so she could go look at one last house before she threw her hands in the air and just picked something and moved on. Once she saw her daughter walk safely into the doors of the school, she drove off to grab a coffee and meet her realtor at said house there after.

It was a house, like any other. Of course she'd seen so many at that point they were all starting to look alike. She knew what she liked and what to look for, so she was surprised that her realtor still felt the need to yap a sales pitch about it. It checked a good many boxes, just fine. Hardwood, sturdy counter tops, new windows, blah, blah, blah.

But as usual, Helga found some issues, and as usual everything was always negotiable.

How hard was it to fix shit before it was sold? But that was a conversation for another day.

"I'm going to check out the backyard," Helga informed Kristen, the said realtor.

"Perfect! We can see the deck that they just had put on this past spring," She toddled along behind her client as Helga popped the lock and slid the glass door open. It was indeed a new deck and a fairly flat backyard compared to others she'd walked through and compared to the houses behind her, whose backyard were more atop a hill and sloped. In fact, now that she was looking at it, she felt like a sitting duck back there. In that, she felt like the houses behind her could just...look directly into that backyard without any trouble. Even with the sturdy looking dog ear privacy fence guarding the yard, privacy would definitely be a factor.

Or lack there of.

And she was just about to cut her losses on that house, for that very reason, when her eyes caught sight of some very worth while objects in the yards of the surrounding domiciles.

Swing-sets, trampolines, forts, kiddie pools...

There were definitely kids in that neighborhood, and on that street.

Which was the most promising thing she'd seen yet. Turning to Kristen she asked, "Can we put an offer in today?"

Helga had been so busy sending texts and emails on her phone while she sat in the school pickup line that afternoon that it flat out startled her how fast Zoey ratcheted open the door and jumped in the car. "Hey!" She flung her book bag across the seat before buckling herself up. Her one-eighty mood shift didn't go unnoticed by her mom, who curiously eyeballed her as she slipped her phone down into the cup-holder. "I take it you had a good day?"

Zoey sported a toothy smile and nodded, "Pretty good. I made a friend and we hung out all day."

The older blonde scowled and nodded, rather impressed, and maybe even a little frightened of her daughters cult-of-personality ability. Something that she'd never possessed and quite frankly, seemed exhausting, "Good! I told you you would be fine." Helga then turned, put her car in gear and made her way out of the car loop.

"Her name is Payton. She actually just moved here too."

"Oh what? Mom was right again? Imagine that?" Helga glanced in the rear-view, a playful smirk drawing across her lips. Zoey rolled her chocolate orbs in return before sticking her tongue out. "I think we bought a house today."

"Really?" Zoey's eyes widened, her previous sneer having vanished in favor of a hopeful smile, "Can we go see it?"

"We can drive by it. But no getting attached though. It's not a sure thing yet." What with the borderline insulting offer she'd given the sellers and all. But the house needed a new roof, and probably a new air unit within two years, and they were in no position to argue with her on that.

Her fingers were crossed though.

"I know, I know."

September

Helga had a busy day. To be more precise, her John Hancock had a busy day. She was just along for the ride. Never-the-less, there she was, exactly two signatures away from her divorce being finalized. She had signed her way into it, now she was signing her way out of it. There were a lot more signatures needed to get out than in, and it made her think that perhaps it should have been the other way around.

"The two red arrows," Her lawyer handed her a pen as she stared at the last piece of parchment, "I made it easy."

"Would something blow up if I signed the wrong place?" She chuckled as she took custody of the pen, immediately scribbling her signature on the proper lines.

"Yep. You wouldn't believe how many offices I've gone through," Ken chuckled back. He looked like a stereotypical divorce lawyer. Brown hair, pointy nose, clean cut, but she could tell by the taupe shadow lurking under his facial skin it was because he didn't have a good facial hair pattern, and of course, the smell of strong aftershave. He was a nice guy though. She liked him a lot.

Helga smirked, re-twisting the pen closed, "Well, hopefully I saved you from some damage today," She then passed the paperwork and pen back to him. "Is that it?"

"That's it," He nodded, taking the papers in his hand and stacking with his hands.

"Fun," The blonde shrugged her bag back onto her shoulder and stood from the chair in front of his desk, "I guess...just bill us for whatever is left when you get the chance." Inwardly she was both groaning and celebrating about it. It seemed entirely ridiculous to her that a divorce, where literally nothing was being contested or argued over, required the expense of a lawyer.

But Ken only smiled, setting the papers on the corner of his desk for later filing, "He's already taken care of it."

He being her official ex-husband as of that day. Helga nodded and popped her index at him, fighting the urge to roll her eyes about it, "Of course he has." And he'd be hearing from her later on about that bullshit chivalry too. "Anyway, it's been real, Ken. Would love to stay in chat," She didn't, "But I've got to be back in Hillwood in two hours to close on my new house."

"Oh, well congratulations!"

"Thank you."

"And good luck!"

"Indeed," She popped her eyebrows as she smiled, waving one more goodbye before leaving his office and hurrying out into the windy Seattle afternoon, and into her SUV. She had just enough time to grab a bite to eat before making her

"Not to alarm you..." Helga said, shoving her hands in her hoody pocket as Zoey scurried through every single room in the downstairs of their new house like a zip of elated lightening. "But it might be haunted."

Her ten year old skidded to a complete halt while giving her mother a bizarre expression, "Whoa, what?"

Helga shrugged, leaning back to look all around, getting more and more skeptical now that the ink was good and dry and it was officially hers, "They seemed really eager to sell and took my low ball offer when I was sure they'd come to their senses and counter offer or worse, back out." She didn't know why she was telling her all that. She was a kid. She didn't care.

"So there might be ghosts?"

"I'm just saying...if you see something unexplained, come and tell me. I know you have a active imagination but I will believe yo—"

"Cool!" Zoey excitedly threw her arms up triumphantly, "I'm going to have a seance!" Before running off up the stairs to check out that space.

"And of course...you're ten...you don't care...you also don't even know what a seance is..." Helga trailed off in a mumble of a voice, pretty sure Zoey idea of a seance was lighting two or more candles and sitting on the floor, but she mentally made a note to double check that later. Just in case. Sighing she wandered over to the fire place, and propped her elbow on the mantel, "Maybe it's not haunted, Helga. Maybe it was a grizzly murder..." She reckoned aloud as she stared around the empty family room. Her phone began murmuring in her front pocket, and a quick peek showed that it was her ex calling, most definitely returning her earlier attempt to reach him. "Hey." She brought the thin device to her ear as she shoved off the mantle. "Eh, just letting Zo explore the new house...she's pretty sure it has ghosts now...because I might have suggested it..." She laughed at his response, "No, I just wanted to know why you paid Ken...um...because we agreed to split everything..." She rolled her eyes, "Well...yeah I assumed that would be for everything, not just Zo. That's not the point."

"Hey mom!" Helga turned around to see her offspring yelling at the top of the stairs, "I'm pretty sure I saw a ghost! Can we move in tonight?"

"This weekend."

"Who are you talking to?"

"Dad."

"Oh!" Zoey nearly tumbled down the carpeted stairs with a collection of galloping thuds. She was not a graceful child be any means, "Let me talk to him!" Helga chuckled before handing her phone off to a small pair of hands.

Saturday.

"Wait...Zo which room did you pick?" Helga asked as two men heaved a dresser down the hallway of the upstairs.

"The one at the very end."

Helga turned at eyeballed her daughter suspiciously, "The furthest away from mine, huh?"

"Yup." She grinned a toothy smile before trotting off to her chosen refuge.

Honestly Helga wasn't even sure why she was making a comment, it would probably be quieter that way. The two movers scooted past her with her the first piece of her daughters new bedroom furniture. "Just put it where she wants it," She waved the off before pausing, "Unless she wants it someplace weird...then please come get me."

Zoey could be a little prankster at times.

Skipping back down the stairs, she grabbed a dolly and began moving marked boxes into their respective areas of the house, starting with the kitchen, which she wanted to have unpacked first above anything else that night. She had just walked back out of the kitchen when one of the movers leaned out of the stairwell and said, "Ma'am..." He didn't even have to tell her why he was requesting her attention.

"Oh for crying out loud..." Helga swore, parking her dolly in a huff while rolling her eyes, "Not you," She held her hand out to the bewildered young man, "My child..."

Literally, she couldn't leave that girl alone for a minute without out her pulling some shenanigans.

"Why exactly are we watching Hocus Pocus? It's September," Helga asked as she handed a pajama clad Zoey, curled up under a fleece blanket on the couch, a bowl of popcorn before flopping down beside her.

"Because."

Helga smirked, "That doesn't answer my question," She grabbed a corner of the blanket and pulled it over her legs while reaching for a handful of popcorn.

"I'm preparing myself for Halloween, mom," Zoey scoffed, shoveling a handful of popcorn into her mouth as messily as imaginable because she refused to remove her eyeballs from her movie.

"Alright, alright...sheesh," The blonde yawned as she propped her elbow on the back of the couch, leaning her head into her curled knuckles, "We'll watch it...for the billionth time..." She added under her breath while reaching for a few more kernels of popcorn.

"Can I have a soda?"

"Ha!" Helga guffawed, "No. You'll never go to sleep."

"But I'm thirsty."

"Aww...it's called a faucet...and water," Helga leaned her head to the side and gave her daughter a smart-ass, toothy smile.

"You're not very nice..." The young girl complained as she dragged her self from the couch to go fetch herself a glass of water.

"No. But you'll be a well adjusted human being because of it," Helga teased in return.

Helga had lucked out, she'd only had to sit through three-fourths of the movie before Zoey had conked out like a light. So hard that she was lightly snoring.

Moving was tiresome.

So was running up and down the stairs like it was her job. And jumping on the trampoline that Helga had been nice enough to buy for her as a Sorry, moving really sucks gift. Helga was extra tired just watching that alone. She quietly reached for the remote and turned the TV off before patting the girl on the leg, "Zo..." She quietly beckoned, watching as the girl jostled into sleepy eyes while stretching her limbs out, "Time to go get in bed."

Zoey got up from the couch without argument, a rats nest of hair and climbed the stairs, wordlessly walking to her room before crawling into her bed. Helga was right behind her, pulling the comforter over her as she rolled over onto her side, "Fan on or off?"

"On."

Helga flipped the overhead fan on as she backed out of the room, "'Night. Love you."

"Love you..." Zoey tiredly mumbled. With a tiny smile, Helga quietly pulled the door shut behind her. She herself wasn't quite ready to call it a night, choosing to take some uninterrupted time go enjoy the cool night. Right after she finished unpacking the last few boxes for the kitchen.

And that's what she did. Finding good spots for her stand mixer and mixing bowls, as well as her other odds in ends that her ex-husband probably didn't even know they had, much less would miss. She was fairly sure that as long as he had a pot, a pan and at least a weeks worth of spoons and forks, he would be fine. They would have lived off of sub-sandwiches and pizza if she had allowed it. Having a ten year old that also only wanted pizza and subs hadn't been helpful in the slightest either.

Of course she was no iron chef herself, but she tried. With the help of about a million cooking blogs she followed just to keep things interesting. Her recipe porn as her ex had called it, much to her chagrin.

Though it kind of was...

Once she'd broken down the cardboard boxes to toss into the recycle bin, she riffled through her carry bag to find a very worn, little silver case. She then retrieved a can of soda out of the fridge and quietly slipped out into the dark and onto the deck to chill in the early fall night. Taking a seat in one of the brand spanking new Adirondack chairs she'd scored for half off at the local Lowe's the weekend before, she fished out, what to the world looked like a cigarette, a lighter and set it ablaze before setting back in her chair.

It may have looked like a cigarette, but the dank smell would out it as the imposter that it was. God, did she still love to get high. There was a slight breeze, and she hoped the neighbors were cool people in case they happened to get a whiff by accident. She'd been telling herself that she needed to switch to some newfangled edible that looked like glow-worm to avoid just that for awhile but, she was kind of set in her ways.

Call her old school, but in her day, one got high, smoking weed in the woods behind a Walmart—and not a super one either, because Hillwood hadn't been cool enough for such—while having a bon-fire party.

Of course she had a lot more class those days. Thankfully.

She was not a pot head by any metrics of determining such. It was a once a week—often times not even that—habit, that her and her ex had had for many years to blow off steam as neither had been big drinkers once they had left their early twenties behind. Though she did enjoy the occasional pinot noir, and it was becoming just the weather for a cozy glass by the fireplace.

Taking a hard drag she exhaled, tilting her head back to look at the stars as she finished blowing smoke into the breeze. She wasn't really sure how long she sat like that, letting her mind wander away in a cannabis bliss, but she ended up being jostled from her meditation by a sneeze.

Or well, somebody sneezing. Her eyes followed the sound towards the back of her yard and to the house directly behind hers. A house completely dark, save for a small, warm glow of light immolating through the sliding door and a dark figure shuffling around on the deck. She watched this person, shuffle a few things around before she saw the petite flame of a lighter, flicker in the dark air.

She smirked. It appeared somebody else had the same idea as her, though it appeared, judging by the downwind breeze, that they were probably puffing on a cigar. "Cheers..." She chuckled.

Sunday.

Her spare bedroom was set up as her new office, and it was more depressing than she'd imagined it would be. She'd always loathed having to go sit in an office and do work that could just as easily have been done at home. Especially if it meant not having to see the insufferable Sandy every morning. And yes, she was just as chipper as her name suggested. A real ball of sunshine that one. Sandy, married to Mark for thirty years and mother of three sons.

She made Helga want to listen to emo music loudly in her office, just out of spite. Amd she didn't even like emo.

Thankfully she didn't have to work with the public at large to begin with, because God help her, she didn't have the patience or personality for the whininess and neediness of the public at large.

Especially home buyers.

She was an estimator for a regional builder, so she dealt with suppliers, and numbers and quantities and...it was not at all where she imagined herself being as a kid when a love of English and poetry had seemed like a viable career. Except...she grew up and realized that writing poetry didn't exactly pay the bills.

Or make any money really.

So, now she didn't have to go the office or see Sandy everyday. Hooray! She had to get to know a couple new local suppliers, and begin going through their pricing sheets. Kind of annoying but, she could now do it from home...hooray! Her place of work was now twenty feet from where she slept at night...boo.

Maybe she'd become a hipster and just start working at a coffee shop from her laptop. Maybe she would invest in a she-shed next year and move her office to the yard so that it couldn't soil the sanctity of her new abode. Surely there was some tax incentive to do such.

She made a mental note to look into it. Along with Zoey's understanding of seances. She kept forgetting to ask about that.

"What do you think about riding the bus home from now on?" Helga asked Zoey while they sat at the kitchen table, slurping down some take-out lo-mien. She phrased it as a question, but she'd already decided that it was going to happen, whether she agreed or not. She was home all day. It would be stupid to get in the car and drive down to the school five days a week, when the district would just bring her kid to her.

Yes, she was that lazy. Also, everybody else was doing it! Sheesh.

"I'm fine with that. Payton rides the bus. She says its fun." Ah, the infamous Payton. The girl whom she heard about non-stop and had yet to meet. She fully expected to be bugged about a playdate or sleepover now that they had moved in.

"It was an interesting place when I was a kid, I'll say that much," Helga stopped chewing for a moment, recollecting some of her bus riding days, scrunching her face at the phantom smell of sweaty seat leather that hit her in the nostalgia, "I'll call the school on Monday."

Wednesday.

2:30pm. Helga stood up at the corner of her street, watching the big yellow submarine lumber its way to the drop off point for that batch of children. Zoey's first official bus rider day. Hopefully she didn't hear any complaints. Not that they would matter, because her little rear was going to stay on the damn bus whether she liked it or not.

What she hadn't been expecting, was Zoey practically falling over herself to get off—she did that a lot. Again, not a graceful child—with a huge smile as she grabbed her mom by the hand and began pulling her back down the sidewalk, "Mom! You'll never believe it!"

"Eh...try me," Helga snorted, allowing herself to get dragged along back towards their house.

"Payton lives right behind us!" The brown headed girl squealed.

Helga's left brow quirked, "You mean, the street behind us?"

"No! Like right behind us!"

"Cigar man?" Helga said aloud. She hadn't seen anybody out there since...not that she had been actively looking or anything—she hadn't—or even knew if it were a guy. She'd assumed, "Alright, hold your horses, the house isn't going anywhere."

"Cant! Meeting Payton at the fence!" Zoey yelled over her shoulder as she continued her sprint to their house.

"Good lord child..." Helga rolled her eyes, but refused to do anything other than walk her ass back to the house. She was thirty. She needed Advil and strong coffee just to get out of bed most mornings. She couldn't imagine what doing something such as...exercise would do to her.

Maybe make her feel better. Who knew?! She wasn't willing to risk a body cast just to find out. Besides, she had an unflattering run and the rest of the world didn't need to be subjected to that sort of horror.

Life was depressing enough.

The point was, she took her sweet ass time returning to her house like the rest of the parents retrieving their offspring. She couldn't help that her was uppity about her new best friend living behind her.

Though she would probably sleep well that night with all that extra flailing.

Still, when she peered out into her backyard and saw her child standing on their mini step stool, at the low point of one of the fence humps so she could talk to her friend, whom appeared to be perched on the back side horizontal support boards, she face palmed. And rushed out there to make sure neither accidentally hurt themselves climbing on things they shouldn't be.

"Zo..." She crossed her arms all...motherly and concerned, and considering that she had her mom jacket on he hood knew she really meant business, "That step-stool isn't meant for the yard." Alright, she wasn't going to flat out scold her in front of a friend, so that was the best she had.

Inappropriate outdoor use of step stool.

But Zoey paid little attention to her mother's gripes, too embroiled in her own excitement to give a second's thought to her own safety, "Mom, this is Payton!" Helga's eyes finally managed to divert from her daughter's precarious position and onto the infamous Payton. Honestly, the girls could have been mistaken for sisters at first glance, both brown headed and brown eyed. The girl had a familiar face to Helga, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what made it familiar to her.

"Hey Mrs. Brazel! Isn't it so cool that we live right next to each other?" He girl excitedly said.

"Yeah," Helga nodded. She was just as amazed at the alignment of these stars as they were, "It's very cool."

"Can Payton come over and jump on the trampoline?"

"Uh..." Helga watched how hopeful both girls got, hanging on that drawn out word, "I am fine with it—"

"Yes!"

"However. I need to talk to Payton's parent's first." There was no way some random kid was coming to her yard to jump on a trampoline without her parents being okay with it.

"I'll go get my dad!" Payton jumped off of the fence and sprinted back up her house.

"Isn't this so cool? This is so cool!" Zoey enthused again, jumping up and down on her stool.

"Careful." Her mom warned, "That stool has seen better days..."

They stood there for a solid five minutes before Zoey—who had the full view—jumped again, "Oh! They're coming back."

Helga silently sighed, inwardly groaning at the idea of having to make some parental small talk with a stranger. Or...cigar person. Or well it was probably safe to assume it was indeed cigar man at that point. Unless Payton had a mother that liked stogies. And while she was steeling herself for the usual formalities—Yes, you child can come over. Yes she can play on the trampoline, unless you plan on suing me if she falls off—Payton monkeyed her way back onto the fence with a loud clamor.

"So, what have we got here..." She heard a jovial man's voice say before...

...he popped his blonde headed, green eyed self up on the fence to peek over. And...well, Helga felt all of the blood drain from her head, straight down her body and into her feet as soon as her eyes made contact with his own, "Arnold...?"

Ah, crap.

A/N: There you go. First chapter. Helga looks like she's about to have her hands full with seemingly more than just child rearing. Or be putting a for sale sign on her front lawn. We'll see! lol

Also, yes, I was deliberately vague with Helga's mysterious ex-husband and how she's spent the last twelve years of her life since storming out of that party. It'll develop and reveal itself as the story goes, don't you worry.

Anyway, thoughts are always appreciated. Thank you!