A/N: I do not own Hey Arnold, the show belongs to Craig Bartlett. I'm sorry if I mess up parts of the canon, my memory is bad and I can't re-watch the series.

It was a Saturday morning, and Arnold and Gerald were skateboarding at a park. Helga was watching them from behind a tree.

Oh, Arnold, Helga thought, why do I torture myself? Why do I hide my jump-roping heart, the heart that's been beating for you since the day we met? She sighed. She tried to confess to him once, but Arnold hadn't been able to comprehend it. If he loved her half as much as she loved him, he was even better at hiding it.

After a few minutes, Arnold decided to try a trick. "Watch this," he said, before proceeding to mess up, lose his balance, and land awkwardly on his left hand.

Gerald winced at the sight. "Arnold?"

"Ow, OW!" Arnold sat up, clutching his left hand with his right.

Helga's heart was in her mouth.

"What hurts?" Gerald asked. "Your hand?"

Helga looked away, her body trembling. Was Arnold bleeding? Was a bone sticking out of his wrist? She didn't want to know.

"OW!"

"Just your hand?" Gerald's voice was loud. "Does anything else hurt?"

"Just my hand," Arnold said. "I...think I broke my finger."

Helga took a deep breath. Oh, my poor darling. If only we were a couple, I would rub your shoulder and tell you that everything will be OK. I would try to make you laugh in the hospital waiting room, and buy you a bouquet of flowers from the gift shop. She didn't think the two-and-a-half dollars in her pocket would be enough to pay for flowers, but her pockets were fuller in her fantasies.

"Do you think you can walk home?" Gerald asked.

"Yeah...my legs are fine. But you'll have to—ow!—you'll have to carry my skateboard."

Arnold's grandpa gave him an ice pack and drove him to the hospital. An x-ray confirmed that his index finger was broken, so he would have to wear a splint for a few weeks.

"Well, short man," Phil said during the drive home, "at least you didn't break your wrist."

Arnold realized how easily he could've, if his hand had hit the ground a different way. "I'll have to start wearing wrist guards."

Phil stopped at a red light. "Now, Arnold, don't get ahead of yourself. You can't do any action-packed activities until that splint comes off."

"I know, grandpa," Arnold said. "I'm really bummed that I can't play baseball tomorrow."

"Well, maybe you can make one of those plant sculptures."

"You mean topiary? That would be hard. I'm left-handed, remember?"

They arrived at Sunset Arms, and Phil helped Arnold unbuckle his seat belt.

"I guess I'll spend the rest of the day in bed," Arnold said. "Maybe I'll listen to some jazz."

When Arnold broke the news to everyone at the vacant lot, Helga didn't say anything. She just stared at a pebble near her shoe, while everyone else comforted Arnold and asked questions.

"Are you gonna watch us play?" Sid asked.

Arnold shrugged. "Probably not. I might feel left out."

Hearing the sadness in Arnold's voice made tears fall from Helga's eyes. She tried to wipe them away with her thumb.

"Helga?" Arnold stepped closer to her. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying, football head! I fell into a fountain."

"Oh." Apparently Arnold believed her.

"I hate when that happens," Eugene said.

"So what are you gonna do, Arnold?" Gerald asked. "Go home and watch TV?"

"I guess so," Arnold said.

Helga wondered why he even bothered walking here if he was just going to leave in five minutes, but maybe he just wanted to be comforted. Helga hadn't been too upset when she broke her leg, but of course, she had enjoyed Arnold's sympathy. And here I am giving nothing in return, just to hide the fact that I'm hopelessly in love.

She would have to make it up to him. But how?