Hello, everyone.

So I'm back with another chapter for this fic. As I've explained, writing is hard to come by with my work life taking up so much of my time, but I'm close to finishing the next chapter, which I will post soon after this one. Anyway, I'm glad the reception has been positive so far and I hope to build on that. There's a lot of quality fanfiction for Hey Arnold right now, especially given the Jungle Movie, so I hope to add to that.

Anyway, to answer all your reviews:

The JAM aka Numbah i- Yes, indeed. Sixth grade comes fast, doesn't it?

Call Me Nettie- Old habits die hard, especially in Helga's case. Will she be the one to pull him out the funk? Who knows.

Ajay435- I'm still including the first movie in canon here, but Arnold has more or less pushed it into the back of his mind. He's in a bleak spot, so he's not too concerned with Helga at this point. Indeed, I think this presents a rather unfamiliar situation for Helga. Let's see how she handles it.

Guest- I imagine he thinks what most of us did when we took that class- "This is awkward."

Relaxing Pikachu- I think you may be onto something with your hypothesis ;)

Human Dictionary- Middle school boys and girls each are nightmares in their own way. Haha, feel free to use it!

Anyway, keep the reviews coming! I love responding to them. And enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 3. Old Habits Die Hard

Looking back on it, Arnold supposed he should have at least tried to avoid the gum from Helga that now was now in his hair. It wasn't a lot, but definitely enough that he would have to get a bad haircut if he messed with it more.

"Mm, mm, mm…Arnold. I don't get it man, after all these years, you're still taking abuse from her," Gerald said as they walked down the hallway after the last class of the day ended.

"It's fine, Gerald. I don't even care about it anymore."

"I think that's your problem, man," his best friend countered. "You don't seem to enough about anything. That ain't the best buddy I know."

"We've been over this. It's just…"

"A funk?" Gerald finished for him. "Look, that's all I get out of you when I ask what's going on. Sometimes you seem fine, but other times it's like you're lost."

Arnold didn't bother with a response, once again hoping Gerald would drop the subject.

"Fine, I won't push it," the black pre-teen said holding up his hands in a gesture of goodwill. "But I still think hanging out with us today would do you some good. We're playing some baseball. Wolfgang challenged us again, and we're playing his team in a few weeks. Never hurts to have that dangerous lumber."

For once, Arnold was not opposed to playing sports, as the weather had finally started to warm enough to warrant such an occasion. But today he wouldn't be participating in any recreational activity.

"I can't today, Gerald."

"Why not?"

The two boys opened the doors that lead outside of the school and down onto the sidewalk.

"It's just not a good day."

"Not a good day? This is the first day above 50 we've had since last year and that's your excuse?"

"That's not it."

"Enlighten me."

Arnold received a familiar disapproving glare from his best friend, one that he knew all too well. Though he did not want to go deep into the topic, he supposed he could at least give Gerald the real reason. He'd understand.

"It's 10 years to the day my parents left me," he said with a sigh.

Gerald's disapproving look immediately turned to one of sympathy as he placed a hand on Arnold's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, man. My apologies."

"It's okay, you didn't know."

"But I do have to ask," Gerald said. "Is this what this is all about? Your parents and not being able to find them? If so, why couldn't you tell me before?"

Arnold didn't answer that question, mainly because he didn't really know the answer himself. He thought letting go of his parents would relieve him of a burden he was happy to shed. But instead, there were too many times he found himself feeling…empty, unsure and less willing to be open with those who cared about him.

"It's not easy to explain," he offered weakly. "It has to do with something that happened two years ago…I'm beginning to wonder if I made a mistake."

His best friend appraised him but decided against pushing it any further.

He needs some time to sort this out himself.

"Alright, buddy. I understand. But don't think you have to deal with problems alone. That's what you have me for."

Arnold gave a small smile in response and when Gerald offered to do their signature thumb handshake, he followed suit.

Just then, Sid and Stinky called over, gloves and a bat in their possession.

"Hey Gerald, Arnold! Ya'll coming?"

"Let's get to the field before Wolfgang tries to steal it from us."

Gerald nodded before turning to Arnold.

"You sure you'll be okay, man?"

"I'll be fine, Gerald. I'm just going to go for a walk. And then try to get this gum out of my hair."

"Alright. Catch ya, later."

And so, the two friends headed in opposite directions; one towards the field so named after him and the other down a lonely boulevard in order to ponder his situation.

As Gerald started walking with Sid and Stinky to the field, the other two boys couldn't help but notice the absence of his best buddy.

"What's up with, Arnold? Is he not planning on playing or something?"

"I don't know, Sid," Gerald replied. "Today he just wanted to be by himself."

"Poor feller seems sadder than a blues artist from Dixie," said Stinky in one of his usual southern analogies. However, in this case it was accurate.

Arnold was far from himself and no one quite knew what the problem was.

Baseball practice progressed throughout the afternoon. At the moment, the focus was on hitting, as Wolfgang not only had a blistering fastball but a nasty slider that dipped and darted around the plate. There was only one player who could consistently hit it, and he was conspicuously absent.

Gerald was pitching, and while he couldn't throw it quite as fast as Wolfgang, he made up for it with a solid variety of pitches that kept hitters guessing. He was having a good day on the mound, so much so that no one had yet gotten a hit.

As a result, Helga was bored to tears in the outfield. Usually, she played catcher, but Harold had taken up that spot today, while the boys hogged all the infield spots.

She picked at the grass as Gerald struck out Eugene rather easily.

"Three strikes, three pitches!" he bragged.

At this, Helga's patience ran out.

"Come on, Geraldo! We can all see what a big shot you are on the mound! Ease up and give me something to do back here!"

"Hey, I'm just trying to prepare the team for what's coming," Gerald shrugged as he caught the ball back from Harold. "My heater ain't as fast as Wolfgang's."

"You're just showing off! We all need to practice, not just your arm, numbnuts!"

Gerald sighed as Stinky came up to the plate and Eugene took his place at second base.

"Fine, Helga. If that's what you want, you got it."

He gave Stinky a moment to settle into his batting stance, would up his pitching stance, and tossed a poorly thrown breaking ball across the center of the plate, easily enough for anyone to hit.

Sure enough, the lanky sixth grader made solid contact, crushing the ball into the outfield…right into Helga's territory in center left.

Oh man, the yokel really got all of that one

She began running full stride just to prevent the ball from going into the street. Little did she know, that just around the corner Arnold had appeared and was heading straight into her line of movement.

He had been at the park most of the afternoon, thinking things over and had just decided to go back home, taking the long way home. Coincidentally, that led him past Gerald Field and, in that moment, he had not bothered to watch where he was going.

Helga dropped back further and further, her glove ready to snag the ball and deliver it back to Gerald.

"Yes, almost got-OOF!"

As Arnold ran into her, the ball bounced off her glove, hit an old tire, and rolled to a stop on the sidewalk. The two pre-teens were left dazed in a heap, wondering what had just happened.

When both had regained their senses, Helga was the first to react. It had been yet another instance in which they had bumped into each other unexpectedly, only this time the blonde girl was genuinely miffed she had not caught the ball. Heart still racing at the sight of the boy she loved, it nevertheless gave her an excuse to be her usual nasty self.

"Way to go, football head! You cost me a chance to rob Stinky of a hit! What are you blind?!"

Arnold dusted himself off and characteristically tried to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Helga. I should have paid more attention," he said as he pushed himself up off the ground.

"You got that right, paste for brains! Just when I think you couldn't get any clumsier, you prove me wrong yet again. Bravo!"

Arnold didn't answer the insult. Instead he went over to the ball and picked it up, handing it back over to the girl who had tormented him since he was three.

"Here, I believe this is yours."

There it was once again, the pure hearted boy trying to do the right thing, only with that same underlying sadness. As if beneath that golden heart, there was a void, a reason that kept it from being whole.

Arnold, my love. What troubles you so? I must summon the courage, the decency to try and help you and shed this blackness that rules my temperament.

But she couldn't. Not with witnesses, not without losing her fearsome reputation. Not without undoing what she had been practicing for the past eight years. Thus, her response was the same as it always was.

"Yeah, yeah, give me that!" she said snatching the baseball from his hand and chucking it back Sid at shortstop. "Just do yourself a favor and look up next time. I hear it's particularly useful when you're not trying to get hit by a car!" And she laughed nastily at her own remark.

"Whatever, Helga," was the only response Arnold gave. "Enjoy your game." And he began walking off again, leaving the blonde girl both stunned and desperate.

I don't understand it. Why can't I get him to react? Why is he so down?

"Good riddance to ya, Arnoldo! Maybe you'll toughen up these next few weeks and actually have the decency to practice with us!" she called after him as he disappeared from view.

Mentally kicking the crap out of herself, she turned her attention back to baseball, where she saw a number of her classmates staring at her.

"What're you looking at, ya numbskulls?! Turn around before I make you!"

"Helga, that's enough."

It was Gerald who spoke up, and he looked visibly upset as he walked towards the outfield to confront her.

"What? Did I hurt your precious best friend's feelings? Relax, Geraldo I've been doing it to him since pre-school."

"He's got enough to deal with without you berating him all the time," he said, catching the ball from Sid. "He's never done a single thing wrong to you and yet you continue to try and make his life miserable whenever possible."

Helga raised an eyebrow. She knew Gerald highly disapproved of her constantly tormenting Arnold, but he usually kept such criticisms to himself.

"Oh yeah? What's it to you?" she spat defensively.

"He's my best friend for one thing," Gerald replied. "But like I said, he's going through a lot. So just back off, will you?"

Helga was too intrigued by the second to last sentence to be offended.

"What do you mean?"

"Not my place to tell, Helga," he responded with a shrug of his shoulders. "Not like you'd care anyway." And with that, the conversation ended as he walked back towards the mound.

"Alright, everyone, let's keep playing. It's Nadine's turn to bat."

Helga could only watch as practice resumed, feeling a mixture of indignancy and unhappiness. She stared at her sneakers and then at the sky, knowing all too well how cruel she was, and how that cruelty hid the truth.

If only you knew how much I care, Geraldo.

Well there you have it. Chapter 3 in the books. I know things have been progressing a bit slowly in this fic, but it's all by design and to have the proper effect I'm looking for. Next chapter will be much longer and really gets to the heart of the story.

Update won't be long!

~The Wasp