A/N We did it! Over 100 reviews in 10 chapters - thank you so much to everyone who helped make that happen (particularly to Call Me Nettie, who took the liberty of reviewing twice since the last update XD). I hope you all enjoy the next ten chapters just as much - I'll do my best to make sure of it!

SILENCING NATURE

Chapter 11 - Awkward Escapology

Escaping awkward situations is probably one of life's most important skills. There are lots of ways to do it, depending on the circumstances. Sometimes you can nudge the conversation into an area that's less inclined to make your skin crawl. Sometimes you can make a perfectly reasonable excuse as to why you need to jump out the nearest window immediately (and yes, you know you're three storeys up, thank you...). When all else fails, as Helga once demonstrated, you can even back away very slowly and carefully, praying with all your might that no-one decides ask why you just erupted from their bedroom wall in a dust-covered Campfire Lass uniform.

If anyone had experience in awkward escapology, it was Helga G. Pataki.

It came down to luck, or a ridiculous lack of it. When the universe continuously insists on dropping not-so-subtle hints of your 'deepest, darkest secret' straight into the lap of the object of said secret, it tends to encourage a proactive approach. The trick was to get on top of the situation before things got awkward. Horribly, mind-breakingly, 'I need to move to a new state now' awkward... Misplaced lockets and the recordings of drug-induced confessions needed to be recovered upon pain of death, before the contents could be revealed. Troublesome parrots (and presumably any other members of the animal kingdom that are capable of reciting poetry) needed to be silenced on pain of their death before they could say their piece. And pork rinds just needed to be avoided at all costs – it was better to starve with dignity. Of course, if the old man was right about her and Arnold, that suggested that all these little accidents weren't so much 'bad luck' as they were the universe conspiring against Helga's wishes – something that had admittedly crossed her mind in the past. Granted, she always assumed in those moments that the universe just held some kind of unfair grudge against her, as opposed to the idea that the universe was actively trying to shove her and Arnold together. If that was the case, Helga figured she and universe should probably take a moment at some point to reassess their relationship. But right then, this was all beside the point. The point was that Helga had suddenly found herself in an entirely new kind of awkward situation; one which she never even considered would arise someday.

Being alone in a small room with Gerald.

As a rule, the two avoided situations like this at all costs. Really, it was a mutually-beneficial arrangement; dialogue between them tended to devolve into a battle of insults, sarcasm and threats (the latter being Helga's contribution), and frankly that could get exhausting after a while. Beyond that, neither of them felt particularly rich in common ground with the other, and neither especially enjoyed the other's company. And yet here they suddenly found themselves, sitting in the small cabin of a swaying, rocking boat, basking in the unsettling aftermath of what was probably their first ever mature one-to-one conversation.

"So..."

"So..."

Each sat opposite from the other, their legs tightly crossed, fingers agitatedly tapping on their knees as they both mentally scrambled for an escape. Sending Arnold away had seemed like a good idea at the time... By this point Helga would settle for the boat hitting an extremely unlikely iceberg; anything to just make this moment end! Normally she would just deflect Gerald's presence with a few demeaning comments. But, well... he really had been a sport about the whole 'her being completely, desperately in love with Arnold' thing. Oh, and all the Tiukwí lunacy of course, but somehow, super-spirits and mysticism aside, that first point still seemed to be the 'biggie' when all was said and done. He'd wanted a little reassurance that his best friend wasn't being set up for a heart-stomping, sure, but beyond that, he hadn't laughed or ridiculed. He hadn't protested or questioned Arnold's sanity. He hadn't even bugged her with too many uncomfortable follow-up questions – talk about a bonus! In light of all that, it really wouldn't kill her to be a little nice to the guy for a change. Now if she could only work out how... Then it hit her; maybe it was sort of a retaliation (she was way more comfortable with those), but at least it more-or-less fit the bill of a normal conversation.

"So, you pretty much have the full picture of my twisted romantic life by this point. How about returning the favour – what's the deal with you and Pheebs?" She shot him a nonchalant look, raising part of her brow, and did her level best not to smirk when Gerald nearly lost his balance. Needless to say, his blush was pretty intense, though he quickly assumed his best 'cool' expression, complete with an attempt at a suave grin.

"O-oh, well, y'know. Apparently she thinks I'm 'handsome', so clearly the lady's got good taste."

"Uh-huh..." Helga wasn't impressed. "And?"

"And what?" His confused response made her shoulders slump. This might have been a miscalculation – she figured the whole 'handsome / kiss on the cheek' routine back at the camp might have clued him in by now, but apparently that was giving the boy too much credit. Now she was stuck having this conversation with the knucklehead.

"And, what are you planning to do about it? Crimeny, the two of you have been holding hands and making sickening, lovey-dovey eyes at each other since the start of fourth grade! Are you finally gonna ask her to 'go steady', or whatever it is you think girls want to hear?" Helga joked, air-quotes included, but she had a sneaking suspicion that that was exactly the kind of 'charming' line Phoebe wanted to hear. She'd probably find it cute...

Gerald's expression became shocked. As much as Helga never thought she'd be the one having this talk with him, he sure as heck never thought he'd be hearing this from her. All the same, he did his best to recover – he was starting to worry that Helga was messing with him, and that this whole line of conversation was leading to some sort of punchline. Or just a straight up punch. "W-well, I thought I might ask her to join me for a movie... Wait, where is this even going?" He raised an eyebrow. "This is payback for the whole 'you and Arnold' thing, right? What, are you gonna read me the riot act? Give me some big, bad ultimatum about just how many different ways you'll kick my butt if I hurt your girl?" He folded his arms, throwing Helga a challenging look. That look failed pretty quickly when she finally caved in and began to chuckle.

"Heheh, seriously?" She gave him an almost pitying look. "Uh, quick question Geraldo; how much do you know about Phoebe?"

Gerald blinked, caught of guard. "Oh, well... she's totally smart, obviously. Like, scary smart, but in a cool way. And, y'know, she's sweet, and cute. She's been tight with you since Pre-K, so she's clearly pretty loyal, and seriously patient – no offence!" He quickly raised his hands, but Helga was willing to let that one slide. Gerald thought for a few moments longer. "She plays the cello, and her favourite colour's blue, obviously. Why?"

Helga had been nodding along to this, her sniggering under control for now, and she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Not bad Geraldo, all valid points." Suddenly she was smirking again. "But I know that Phoebe's dad's been teaching her to sword fight since she was five."

"Really?" Gerald's eyes widened.

"Ohh, yeah." Helga grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "She's good too. Takes it real seriously, works on it three nights a week. Actually, her folks finally got her her very own sword for her tenth birthday, and man, I gotta tell ya, that baby is sharp!"

"You don't say." Gerald's voice had gone up an octave or so.

"Yup. I've seen her practice with it – she works on her thrust by seeing how many grapefruit she can skewer in ten seconds." Ok, that was a lie – Phoebe was extremely strict about not treating her sword like a toy, just as her father had made her promise and no matter how much Helga begged – but boy, it was fun to watch Gerald squirm!

"Oh..."

"Her record is seven." Helga relished hammering in the final nail, watching Gerald deflate just a little further. She suspected she'd made her point. After pausing for a moment, with a mock-thoughtful look, she snapped her fingers. "But hey, you were right – it totally has a blue handle!" She shrugged. "Meh, good enough for me – you two have my blessing. Oh, but since you did bring it up and all; rest assured that I'll bring a swift and brutal end to whatever parts of you Pheebs leaves alive if you cross her." She finished with her most terrifying smile.

"Ok." Gerald finally responded in an oddly small voice. "Uh... If you'll excuse me, I think I need to use the restroom." The two glanced towards the nearby door, 'nearby' meaning a scant few feet. They exchanged an apprehensive look. "I need to use a different restroom." Without another word, Gerald darted from the cabin as though his life depended on it, the pitching of the boat apparently less of an issue than he'd found it earlier. Maybe the situation was just more urgent.

Finally alone, for the first time in a while, Helga was able to take a moment to lie back and breathe. Reclining with her hands behind her head, she was actually quite proud of herself. 'I'd say that went pretty well! See, Helga ol' girl? You can be nice – piece of cake! Ok, so maybe that was half-nice and half-threatening. Fine, MAYBE 70-30. But you didn't insult the moron once! Technically... Hey, maybe spending these last few days with Arnold is rubbing off on me.' Speaking of Arnold, she figured that by now he must be deep into the long-awaited catchup with his parents. Talk about polar opposites; she could barely stand to brief Bob and Miriam on what happened during her day, assuming they were even pretending to listen, and there was Arnold, probably sitting down and eager to give Miles and Stella his entire life story. The thought interrupted her newfound calm – she didn't particularly like to think of just how much of Arnold's 'life story' was about him being tormented by none other than Helga G. Pataki. After all, even disregarding all the Tiukwí stuff, his folks had walked in on them sharing that first, wonderful kiss; how long could it seriously be before that came up in conversation? And once the kiss came up, then Helga would come up. And then they would be treated to a recap of a lifetime of spitballs, shoving, tripping, pranking, head-based insults, and other assorted petty tortures. A part of her mind knew, of course, that Arnold would probably be a little more tactful about the subject than that, but the wicked voices that made a hobby of plaguing her thoughts were getting tired of being ignored. Thinking about her previous treatment of Arnold gave them a fresh burst of strength. 'I can practically hear him now – "Oh, but none of the bullying matters because she KISSED me afterwards." Yeah, 'cause THAT'S going to fly well with a ticked-off parent. I've basically been their son's worst nightmare the entire time they've been gone! They'll probably wind up hating me, or thinking that I'm just going to hurt him. Heck, even if they don't hate me, they'll probably hear all that stuff and realise what a basket case I really am! What if they don't want me anywhere near him?' Closing her eyes tightly against the terrible thoughts, she sat up and drew her locket from its hidden pouch. Opening them once more to stare deeply into the shredded picture, she reverently traced a finger down the side of the golden heart.

"Ohh, my sweet beloved, would fate really be so cruel? To finally bring you to me, as I've dreamt for so many years, only to have you snatched away so quickly by the very people whose salvation drew us together?" She stared piteously into the eyes of the photo, searching for some reassurance. It brought to mind everything that she and the locket had been through in the last few days. With an easy twist of the clasp, the heart swung open to reveal the message inside; 'Arnold my soul, you are always in my heart. Love, Helga G. Pataki'. Unlike the photograph, the words were pristine.

"My soul... Could our spirits truly be bonded, as the wise old guide told us? For my locket to be the thing that returned your parents to you – the hidden, secret heart that I've held so close for so many years – dare I hope that the universe really is on our side? If you can finally see that my heart is pure, my love, maybe your parents will see it too." She suddenly had a flash of realisation. "Well, at this point it's not like they know any different..." It was true. Sure, they'd probably got the message that she was no Miss Mary Sunshine by this point, but as far as the years of picking on Arnold went, they were completely clueless! All they knew was that she was the nice girl who helped save both their lives. And kissed their son. And might be his soulmate. Ok, so that last one probably made things a little weird for everyone, depending on what the old man had told them, but come on – there had to be worse first impressions! All she had to do now was not screw it up for the rest of their natural lives! And then there was Arnold, and whatever he let slip about their 'relationship' to date.

That could be an issue.

The problem was that Arnold could barely lie to save his life – she adored his openness and honesty, make no mistake, but that didn't make it practical – and this trip alone had shown that omitting the truth seemed to give the kid just as bad of a stomachache... Considering he was getting to know his parents for the first time, Helga figured it was pretty unlikely that he'd want to start off by keeping secrets. No, much as she hated to admit it, Arnold probably couldn't be trusted on this one. And coming to that realisation immediately ignited an old, well-honed urge – the urge to eavesdrop. After all, if she couldn't control the conversation then she could at least be prepared to handle the fallout. And that meant knowing exactly which of her numerous atrocities Arnold was about to reveal. Or could be revealing at that very moment! The thought spurred her into nervous action, and she quickly rose to leave the room.

The key to successful sneaking is observation. It's a little like crossing the street: look, look, then look again (for Brainy). Helga knew this all too well; she'd had years of practice after all. Admittedly, she still tended to forget that important aspect when overtaken by a soliloquy, but those could be very distracting! Right then, though, she was focused; Gerald could have run (or fled) in any direction. The corridor, though, seemed clear when she poked her head out. Finding Arnold wouldn't be an issue; the boat only had so many rooms. The problem would be staying hidden once she found him! The place had a pretty unfortunate lack of Helga-sized trashcans... But at least the sounds of her quiet footsteps and soft breaths were buried beneath the metallic pattering of the rain. It wasn't a stretch to think that Arnold had set off towards the bridge, and she headed in that direction, before her movements were quickly halted by the sound of a familiar laugh. Her heart immediately began to follow its usual response of fluttering at the sound, before she ordered it to pipe down – this wasn't the time. And talk about an easy tracking mission; the football head had only been two doors away... Hearing three voices, only slightly muffled by the thin, metal walls, she came to the door of another cabin. She was exposed, and that was a lot more risky than she normally liked during these exercises, but needs must, and the hallway was still clear. And so, ear against the cold steel, she began to listen.

While all this had been going on, Stella had been proven absolutely right; once the first stone was removed, the dam had well and truly crumbled. The hardest part of any scary or overwhelming situation is taking that first nervous step. Of course, as with a bungee jump or a skydive, you can find it pretty impossible to stop once you get going! That was where the Shortmans found themselves now, the conversation flowing freely and merrily. In fact, the whole thing had unconsciously turned into a sort of contest – a pitched, to-and-fro battle to see who could eagerly take in the most information about their opponent, or opponents. Arnold had the advantage, in a way; while Miles and Stella had slept, he'd had an entire childhood to drawn up a long list of things about them that he'd always wanted to know. Too bad he never thought to actually write it down... Regardless, he was more than able to hold his own, even if it was two against one, and the last while had seen Miles and Stella responding to a barrage of questions from their son. In spite of the volume of things to learn, Arnold wasn't worried; somehow it was as though an entire portion of his brain had been set aside waiting for this, ready to safely and securely tuck away everything there was to know about his parents.

"So Dad, you really went to P.S.118 too?" Like Helga and Gerald, Arnold sat with his legs crossed. But while they had practically been statues of discomfort, Arnold radiated keenness. It was as though he was poised to grab at every response before it could get away.

"Ha, yeah, about a thousand years ago!" Miles leaned back as he thought back to the old halls, rubbing his long chin in a way that reminded Arnold all too well of his grandpa. "I can't even imagine how much the place must have changed since then. I remember we had this really strange teacher back in sixth grade. Every time he had us busy working on a project, he'd start playing with these little animal figurines he kept in his desk drawer. Weird." He shook his head for a moment, perplexed even after all this time, before releasing a short burst of laughter. "I think I traumatised the poor guy once by putting my pet snake Larry in there for him to find!" Hearing this, two jaws hung open; one inside the room and one just outside the door. Stunned, the few moments it took Arnold to comprehend this revelation finally gave Stella the chance she'd been looking for to interject.

"And what's school like for you, Honey? Do you have a lot of friends?" She almost cringed at her own question. It just sounded so cliché! The kind of thing you'd hear from a distant great aunt, who wasn't entirely sure which niece or nephew she was actually talking to, but who had in fact seen you around six months earlier and who had asked the exact same thing then. It was something that, Stella knew in her heart, she should have been making it her business to know on a daily basis since Arnold's first trip to preschool. But that couldn't be helped now, and there was hardly any way around it; 'do you have a lot of friends' was the biggest and best stepping stone to the specifics. And there were a lot of specifics. Arnold may have been wondering what kind of people his parents were his whole life, but Stella had been wondering who their son would grow up to be since before he was born, and she had a list of her own. It was a relief to see he had a friend as close and loyal as Gerald – and of course Helga, but that was an entirely different and decidedly scary topic for any parent, years-long absences and mystical old guides or not – but were there others? Was he the kind of sociable boy who knew everyone, or was he more of an isolated type? Were they nice people? What did they do together? Was he sporty and outdoorsy, or did he prefer to stay inside? Was he getting enough fresh air? Wait, were any of the other kids mean to him?! Ooh, if some punk was picking on her Arnold, so help her she'd... It took all of a second for Stella's frantically spiralling thoughts to demand a deep, cleansing breath. One thing at a time.

And of course, not far away, a blonde girl gave a small cringe; this was apparently heading straight towards the area she'd been most afraid of. What spectacular timing...

Arnold's smile in response eased Stella's nerves, but could do little for Helga. The door didn't have a keyhole... "Well, Gerald's been my best friend since Pre-K, but our whole class hangs out together most of the time. You'll meet most of them when we get back to Puerto Clara – they're all pretty special in one way or another."

With that, Arnold proceeded to give his parents a rundown of the weird and wonderful members of the 'Simmons Tribe'. Helga listened on, occasionally giving a silent nod of approval, and sometimes quirking a sceptical brow if she thought the boy was being a little too kind. Cases in point; he managed to describe Eugene without dropping in the word 'jinx' even once – she suspected the poor sap would still be channelling Violet Beauregarde when they got back – and he somehow talked about Harold fondly, without using terms like 'obnoxious', 'annoying', 'immature', or 'Pink Boy'. She heard a few confused giggles from the parents while he explained that, yes, Stinky was his friend's real name, and some worried gulps when he spoke of his previous work as Curly's personal negotiator. He even remembered Brainy ("really quiet, but you can always count on him"). What was very interesting, though, was that good old Li-la was somehow left out. Now why could that have been? The logical part of Helga's brain figured it was because of the 'oh-so sweet' redhead's absence from the trip. The pessimistic part suggested that the girl might have belonged in a league of her own... Fortunately, the optimistic part of her brain, which had been seeing an unprecedented surge of activity in the last 24 hours, simply ordered her to grin and run with it.

"And what about Helga? Have you guys been, uh, friends for long?"

Miles' question sent two women's minds into a state of panic. Helga's mind simply stalled, the grin instantly wiped and her knees beginning to tremble. Stella, on the other hand, honestly could have just punched him in that moment – right on his hook wound. Trust her husband to blunder smack dab into the middle of a difficult situation. And he'd gone and dragged herself and Arnold along with him... Clearly, if he was feeling the same sense of trepidation around the whole subject of Helga that Stella was feeling, then he had a pretty odd way of showing it! Oh, and of course he had to say the word 'friends' like that; he might as well have thrown up some air-quotes, just in case Arnold didn't quite get the real meaning. And why not wiggle his eyebrows while he was at it? Granted, they were both about nine years behind the times on what it would take to be a 'cool' parent to a preteen boy, but she was pretty darn certain it wasn't that. As it was, all the woman could do was release a tiny sigh, and clench her hands as subtly as possible. It was out there now. After all, it wasn't as if she didn't want to know. Had things been different, it probably would have been pretty wonderful to have their son sit with them, and shyly tell them about his first little crush (or at least, she assumed it was the first – he was only ten after all). It was actually a relief to think that they hadn't missed such an important and delicate time in Arnold's life! But this was hardly a normal situation. 'Common sense might have told you to let Arnold get a little more comfortable with us before bringing up such a sensitive topic, MILES!' And then there was the... other stuff. She had never complained when Tiukwí spoke at such lengths about their son being a 'god' to his people. Whether it was true or not, she couldn't help but feel oddly proud! Beyond that, she'd chalked the legend up as something she would think about more once the crisis was averted. Although it had been fun to watch the Green-Eyed children scrambling to add blue 'hats' to their Arnold headdresses, once she and Miles had given them an update. But what little Tiukwí had said once he saw Helga was... a lot to take. Needless to say, it complicated things.

Arnold's eyes had, quite understandably, gone decidedly wide, and a pink tinge had rushed to his cheeks. He probably should have seen this coming, but the conversation had been so much fun! He'd been blindsided. "Oh! W-well, I've known Helga since preschool too. So, a l-long time, I guess." Apparently Arnold's reaction was enough for Miles to get the message. When Arnold looked away, his face filled with embarrassment, the man took the opportunity to give his wife the most apologetic look he could muster. She wasn't happy – as it turned out, the Shortman men's resistance to death-glares might have been genetic.

"It's nice that you have someone... special in your life, Arnold." Stella tucked her anger away as she turned back to her son, eager to recover the situation. She placed what she hoped was a comforting hand on his cheek, and found that it was hot from the blush. Maybe she couldn't put the cat back in the bag, but she could at least try to make sure the cat wasn't too angry about the whole thing. "For her to go through all of this with you, the two of you must have been close for a long time. You must mean a lot to her."

While Stella's words might have been reassuring to Arnold, each of them was like an electric shock straight to Helga's heart. She was practically hyperventilating, chewing on her nails with a fervour. Surely this was it – the big reveal. '"Well, actually Mom, we were only 'close' in the sense that I was her favourite victim. I GUESS that means I was special to her... I mean, who else would she push around, throw paint on, or cover in feathers in front of the whole class, day after day? Honestly, I'd have to say that nobody's ever made me MORE miserable than Helga G. Pataki! By the way, can she come round for dinner next week?"'

"Yeah." Arnold's single word made Helga's breath catch, freezing her on the spot. "I mean... I wouldn't like to speak for Helga when she isn't here, but... she is special. She's always been really special. She means a lot to me."

Helga's one hand, the one whose nails she'd been frantically chewing, quickly covered her mouth, barely containing yet another lilting sigh of adoration. The other instantly clutched at her locket through her vest. She wanted to pass out in a full-on swoon, but a cold metal floor was hardly the best place. 'I mean a LOT to him! He thinks I'm SPECIAL! And he said all that to his PARENTS! Oh, my sweet beloved, does your capacity for compassion and forgiveness truly know no bounds? For you to say such beautiful things, despite my myriad crimes of awful, undeserved cruelty? What have I done to deserve the affection of such a saint? What have I-'

"Helga?"

"Waahh!"

Three pairs of eyes went wide in the small cabin as the door suddenly burst open, a girl tumbling into the room to land flat on her face. Behind her, in the doorway, stood a deeply perplexed Gerald. What followed were several seconds of shocked silence, Helga's eyes slowly rising to meet the others' stupefied stares, the rosy tinge still visible on Arnold's face. This time, backing away slowly just wasn't going to cut it. In an instant, the girl was on her feet and sprinting away, shoving Gerald aside as she bolted. She might have heard someone shout out her name in her wake, but the only sounds to reach her were the pattering of rain and the heavy thumping of her own heartbeat in her ears.

Helga didn't stop or slow down, but her body seemed to be following an automatic instinct. She needed air. And so she pelted up and out, ignoring Eduardo's surprised jump as she shot from below deck. She was lucky, not that she felt it in that moment; the storm was a ghost of what it had been, most of its anger spent. What had been an ocean of rain not long ago was now something only a few shades heavier than a drizzle, and both the white flashes and thunderous rumbles had continued their journey into the distance. Helga barely noticed; being struck by lightning didn't seem like such a bad thing just then. She had been careless, caught up in her own thoughts, and who knew what Arnold's parents thought of her now? Who knew what Arnold thought of her now? Probably that she was some kind of nosy little creep, spying on one of their family's first private moments in nearly a decade... Every one of the cruel voices in her brain was screaming 'basket case', and each of them had the voice of a Shortman.

Rapidly running out of boat to flee across, Helga found her eyes drawn to the looming crow's nest above. She let out a depressed, frustrated sigh; it seemed appropriate. Swiftly climbing to top of the swaying structure, she finally came to a standstill, grasping the safety rail so tightly that her knuckles turned white, and inhaling vast lungfuls of air. She allowed the memories of her last visit to a crow's nest to flow through her mind; her desperate and devastated, Arnold terrified and running away. They seemed to fit the mood. She released the railing with one hand to clasp her locket tightly, as if afraid that she would cast it overboard to complete the flashback.

"What the heck is WRONG WITH ME?!" She screamed at no-one in particular. Perhaps at the river, or the jungle itself. She barely even cared if anyone else could hear her. What, she couldn't make it one full day before doing something that would probably remind Arnold of just how nuts she was? Before throwing whatever good impression she might have made on his parents straight into a woodchipper? And now, here she was, all alone, pigtails drooping in the rain. If she was crying, the water made it so you couldn't tell.

Actually, at least the rain seemed to have stopped...

"Um, double déjà vu?"

Head spinning in shock, she found Arnold right behind her. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't even heard him approach.

He had an umbrella.

"Can I join you?" When she gave the smallest of nods, Arnold moved a little closer, coming alongside her, keeping the umbrella over her the entire time. He was getting a little soaked himself – the detriments of having a wide head – but he didn't seem to mind. For a while they were both silent, before Arnold finally spoke again. "Are you ok?"

"What do you think, Football Head?" Helga leaned on the cold railing with folded arms, deliberately avoiding his eye. "Guess your parents have a real good idea of the kind of person I am now, huh?" She figured that, if he was even here, they must be holding off on the 'stay away from the loon' orders until they all reached dry land.

"Yeah, I'd say they have a pretty good idea." Arnold nodded. "Because I told them." Helga's head, which had drooped a little lower to begin with, shot back up in response.

"Told them what? That I've made your life heck the whole time we've known each other?"

Arnold tried a small smile. "I get the feeling you know exactly what I told them." It didn't work; Helga's shoulders just slumped even further. He let out a small sigh. "Besides, you know that isn't true. We've had good times too."

"Oh, great. Tell you what, you count the good stuff I've done for you on one hand, and I'll go find an abacus to work out the rest. Should only take a few days. Face it Arnold; I've always been a jerk to you, and if you tell your parents otherwise then you're lying."

Her words left Arnold in a sad silence for a few moments, until he glanced at the umbrella above them. "Not always." He waited for Helga to respond, but she just kept staring off into space, looking more and more dejected. "Do you remember the first day we met? It's ok if you don't. I mean, it was a pretty long time ago." That got a reaction, even if it was just an eye roll. Maybe the tiniest ghost of a smirk? Yes, she vaguely remembered that day.

"The first day at Urban Tots. I've thought about it a lot this last year." Arnold pressed on, knowing she was listening. "I was really nervous that morning. I'm pretty sure I'd been excited to meet other kids, but I was scared that nobody would like me. And then the weather turned out so gross that morning... It sort of got me down. But then, just when were driving past the school, I saw you!" Helga finally turned to look at him, but Arnold was apparently lost in the memory.

"I just remember that you were really... pink. Like this little bright spot in the middle of all the rain." He let out a chuckle. "Grandpa told me I shouted at him to stop the car, but he might have been making that up." His free hand went to rub the back of his neck. "I also remember thinking that I really liked your bow, 'cause it was pink like your pants. Sorry if that sounds silly..." His cheeks flushed once more. He'd been so caught up in the story that he hadn't noticed Helga's jaw drop, or seen her eyes go wide.

"It was only after I got out of the car that I saw how sad you looked. But after I said hi, you seemed a lot happier. It made me feel really good too." He finally turned back to her – she had just enough time to hide her shocked expression. "I guess things changed with us after that. I still don't exactly understand why... But I do know that you were nice before you were ever mean. The first thing you ever did for me was cheer me up, just by being you! And you know, they say first impressions are usually pretty accurate." He finished with a grin. He'd hoped to snap Helga out of her low mood, even if it was just to chastise him for being a sap, but he hadn't expected Helga to simply close her eyes and take a deep breath. Moments later, she reapplied her grip on the railing – maybe not so tightly as to hurt, as it almost had before, but still tightly enough that her fist was slightly shaking. He didn't understand, a frown starting to form.

"Did... Did I upset you? I'm sorry-" He began, before being swiftly stopped in his tracks by a raised hand.

"Don't say another word, Football Head!" Hearing this, Arnold was an instant from asking 'why?' before he caught himself. Instead, he amenably stayed silent while Helga continued to breathe, her eyes still closed. After a short while, whatever she was dealing with seemed to pass, and the girl finally opened her eyes to look into his own. She quickly assumed one of her familiar, cross-armed pouts. But he could see the smile behind her eyes. "Seriously? You ask me not to go overboard with kissing you, and then you pull something like that? Geez, play fair Hair Boy!" Finally he won a small smirk, and her words brought a wide, relieved smile to his own face. And an even deeper shade of red to his cheeks...

"Heh, sorry? Does this mean you're feeling better."

'I'm always better when I'm with you, my love', is what Helga thought. But she made sure to keep the thoughts to herself. Her walls had already taken a serious hit; add in a couple of poetic musings and suddenly you were heading towards an FTi... Instead, she allowed her smile to become wider, and sincere.

"Yeah, I'm ok." Her expression faltered again when she remembered the current situation. "But what about your parents? Are they ticked off with me, or..?"

Arnold shook his head. "I don't think so. A little confused maybe."

"Wow – Helga G. Pataki, confusing? Imagine that!" She immediately scoffed.

Arnold rolled his eyes, but laughed all the same. "Give it time, Helga – they'll get used to you." Before she could react, he had gently gripped her hand. Leaning upwards, he placed a soft kiss on her cheek, the tiny contact travelling through her like an electric shock. Coming down, he met her eyes again, green locking on to blue. "Now can we please go back inside? Half my head's getting wet, and it's kind of confusing." Seeing her offer a mute nod – which was about as much as she could manage – he led her back to the ladder, placing the umbrella in her hand before beginning his descent. She looked up at it for a few seconds, trying to pinpoint the exact moment he'd managed to talk her down, and somehow she couldn't do it. Impressive, but it still kind of bugged her.

"Where did you even find this?" She muttered, just before his head disappeared from view.

He paused briefly, grinning brightly. "Oh, you know. I always keep one handy for Helga-related emergencies." For a moment she could only blink, before finally moving to follow.

"...shut up Football Head."

Good thing he couldn't see her grinning too.

A/N If you enjoyed the chapter, please take a moment to review - your feedback means a lot!