Twelve-year-old Arnold stared at his parents, his eyes wide and pleading, tears prickling at the corners, and he said, "Mom... Dad... please don't go -"
Stella knelt in front of her son, a gentle, kind smile on her face, and she brought his shaking body into an embrace. "Oh, Arnold... you'll be coming with us, of course. You're old enough to travel, to experience the wonderful, wide world around you. You'll get to stay in San Lorenzo, explore the jungle, and live with the Green Eyed People. The natives really took a liking to you, you know -"
Arnold was frozen in place, his eyes bugging out of his head in mild horror. "No..." he mumbled under his breath. "No, you guys... you guys can't do that to me."
Stella pulled back, confusion written all over her face. "Sweetheart... what are you talking about? I know it'll be a big adjustment, and I'm sure you'll miss your friends here, but I thought you loved San Lorenzo -"
"I-I did," he insisted, too petrified to pull himself out of his mother's grasp. "But... but... you guys were there, and-and I was so happy, but... Helga..." Arnold squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the indignant tears away. "Helga was with me the whole time. Mom, Dad... I guess I never ended up telling you about Helga. Not completely. I know you know she's my girlfriend, but... she's everything to me. She... I've loved her since I was three, and I can't just leave her! You guys have no idea what her and I have been through together! She was always there for me whenever I was sad that you two were gone! And, even when her father called me an orphan three years ago... she... she told me that she'd never leave me, and that as long as she loved me, that I'd never be alone." In his distress, he shook himself out of his mother's shocked arms, and he began pacing the length of the kitchen, a hand on his forehead in the futile attempt to avoid the coming headache. "I... I can't leave her. No... no, anything but that, please don't make me leave her... You... you can't do that to me!" He was beginning to raise his voice, and he never thought he'd ever speak to his parents in such a way; even before he'd met them, he never imagined that he'd ever feel so angry with them that he'd shout. "You can't make me chose between you two! It's not fair! I... I don't know... I wouldn't... I can't... I just can't... She's... Helga, she's a part of me." His voice had suddenly dropped to a whisper. "If I left her... I wouldn't be whole anymore. I'd be... I'd just be half of who I am right now. She's everything I'd ever want to be; she's witty, and smart, and strong, and-and... and I... she's taught me so much; she's been so patient..."
He paused momentarily in his pained rant, and leaned against the refrigerator, his head dropped in his hands. He finally got the courage to speak again, his voice muffled behind his trembling fingers. "Her parents ignore her. They call her by the wrong name, and forget to make her lunch for school, and they never remember to pick her up from soccer practice, and they don't even know how old she is. I can't leave her alone with that. I never told you, because it wasn't my place to say anything. I've seen her at her worst, and her worst is... I can't... I just... I can't..." His head shot up, his eyes desperate, tears leaking from the corners, and his mouth twisted into a horrible frown. "I... I don't know if I can do that to her... to me... but... but then you two... and you might... I might... and then you'd... and I don't know... and I just..." His voice began to shake, his emerald eyes boring into their startled expressions.
Miles and Stella just stared at him, worry making their hearts ache. They'd never dreamed that their son would have experienced such mature love at such a young age. Sure, they were both aware of the unique love story of Phil and Gertie, but that was a one-in-a-million relationship! They had no reason to suspect that their own son would have found somebody to care for so deeply, and who cared so deeply for him in return. They... honestly had no idea how to respond to his predicament. They couldn't just leave the Green Eyed People to succumb to the new bout of the sleeping sickness, especially because no other doctor knew how to treat the mysterious disease. But, at the same time, their son was standing before them, close to weeping at the mere prospect of leaving the love of his young life. And they didn't doubt that he loved her. It was clear in his shaking frame and terrified, vulnerable eyes.
"We didn't know," Miles finally managed, his voice low, surprised, and unsure. "Arnold, we had no idea -"
Before he could continue with his confused apologies, the front door opened and closed with a loud bang. Arnold knew who it was immediately; his breath hitched in his throat, and he hastily wiped at his tear-streaked cheeks. "Football Head!" the intruder's amused voice called from the hallway. "You home? I've got a surprise for you! And I promise, this time, it's not a wet willy!" Arnold turned his back on his parents; not because he was disappointed in their sudden decision to leave, but because he'd already shown enough weakness, and he didn't want to expose himself anymore.
He took a few deep breaths, and, finally deeming himself decent enough to accept Helga's company, turned around to face the doorway again. "I-I'm in the-HUH-kitchen, Helga!" He winced at the fact that he'd hiccuped in the middle of speaking, and he knew that it was a dead giveaway that he was feeling a strong, likely negative, emotion.
The hastened footsteps of his girlfriend neared, and when she finally slid in sight, her eyes were so thick with concern, that Arnold felt the tears prick his eyes again. Peculiarly, she had a parrot clinging to her shoulder, mumbling romantic musings, but the bird had received absolutely none of her attention the moment she realized that Arnold was hurting. She brushed the animal from her shoulder, and it flew away to the window sill, perching itself hear the open window and turning it's face to the breeze.
Helga crossed the room quickly to Arnold, wrapping her arms around his body and forcing him into a tight, loving embrace. The boy melted into her touch, his arms flinging around her waist, and he buried his head in the crook of her neck. The girl was silent for a moment, as was everybody else in the room, and then she spoke. "Arnold, my love... you know I hate seeing you so... so sad... what's wrong?" She suddenly pulled back, taking his face in her hands and staring as deeply into his eyes as was possible. "Was it my dad? Please tell me it has nothing to do with my dad-"
Arnold felt a strange smile cross his lips, feeling so warm hearted at her obvious distress in response to his distress. He shook his head, trying to blink away the persistent tears, and his voice was quiet as he said, "No. It wasn't your dad."
She let out a breath of relief, resting her forehead against his and squeezing her eyes shut. Just seeing Arnold cry had always had a terrible effect on her, and she could already feel tears of her own form beneath her closed lids. She sucked in a laboring breath. "Arnold, please don't cry." She chuckled dryly, humorlessly, and added, "You know it always makes me cry, too. And big, strong Helga G. Pataki doesn't cry."
The football-headed boy laughed under his breath, admiring the delicate features of her relaxing face; she was obviously calming down at the fact that Arnold didn't seem as wrapped in misery as he'd been before. "Helga... Helga, I love you so much."
Helga's eyes flickered open, her tender love and clear in her gaze. "Not as much as I love you, my beloved," she answered, her voice just above a whisper. Arnold sighed, feeling so very happy in her arms that he was somehow able to completely forget the situation he'd found himself in. "But I mean it, Arnold," Helga said suddenly, her voice stern and demanding. "Tell me what's wrong. I will personally kick whoever's butt that made you so... like this."
Arnold sighed again, less lovesick and more forlorn, and his hands clasped tightly behind her back. He avoided her stare. "I don't think that'll work this time, Helga."
She raised one side of her eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
The room fell deathly silent, neither Miles or Stella or Arnold willing to answer that question. Arnold wasn't sure how she'd respond; part of him thought she'd be happy that he'd be able to spend some one-on-one, quality time with his parents, but an even larger part of him knew she'd be angry, and heartbroken, and terrified that he'd really leave her. But Arnold knew he wouldn't. He wouldn't be able to bring himself to kiss her goodbye, hop on a plane, and love her through letters and postcards. He'd miss seeing her beautiful smile every day, and the feel of her lips against his, and the musical laugh that escaped her teeth whenever he did something that particularly pleased her. He couldn't part from that.
Helga suddenly pulled free from him, her eyes piercing and impatient. "Arnold, what do you mean?"
Behind the two sixth graders, Miles and Stella shared a look, both nodding in silent agreement. The latter took a step forward, putting a hand on the young girl's shoulder, and said in a soft, quiet voice, "Helga, Miles and I have to leave the country for a little bit. The Green Eyed People are getting sick again, and we need to help them get better. Eduardo is coming to pick us up tomorrow afternoon, and we're not sure how long we'll be gone, but we'll be back."
With wide, understanding eyes, Helga stared at Arnold, taking in the sight of his watery, pleading, desperate gaze. "Does that mean... are you..." She sucked in a breath a hand flying to her mouth in and her eyes dropped immediately to the tiled floors of the kitchen.
Without thinking, Arnold closed the gap between them, grabbing her face in his tender hands and crashing their mouths together. His lips moved passionately, pleading earnestly for her to respond, but the poor girl was too frozen, too heartbroken, to answer accordingly. Finally, after recognizing Helga's lack of response, Arnold pulled back, the delicate smack of their lips parting being the only noise in the silent room. Under his breath, Arnold muttered, "No... no, I can't do that."
Helga stared at him, her mouth opening and closing incredulously. "Can't do what?" she squeaked.
"I can't leave you," he answered, gathering her thin frame to him, and pressing their bodies close together. "And I won't leave you."
The girl with the golden pigtails gaped at him, her entire being trembling at his unexpected decision. "But... but, Arnold -"
"No," Arnold insisted in a voice that suggested his decision wouldn't be swayed. "No, I'm staying right here in Hillwood. You and I... we're going to go to middle school next year. And we'll pass notes during class, and we'll kiss in between periods, and everybody on the street will take one look at us and say, 'What a great couple; I bet they'll be together forever.' And then after middle school, we'll go to high school, and we'll compare schedules, and hope that they'll match, and I'll buy a car so that I can take you for drives through the country and we can stargaze and have picnics far away from everybody else. And then after high school, we'll go to college, the same college, and you'll write lots of beautiful poems and books, and I'll be a psychologist, and then I'll propose to you at the end of our final year, and then we'll get married, and have lots of babies that we'll name after my grandparents, and we'll live in the Boarding House, and... and..." He let out a deep breath, realizing that he'd just vocalized the majority of his dreams over the years that he'd opted to keep to himself. "And I'll never leave you."
Helga was in awe, but there was a hopeful gleam in her eyes as she said meekly, "Arnold, I can't ask you to do that -"
"I'm sorry, Helga, but that's just what's going to happen," he demanded, his voice harsh and low. "And you don't have a choice, because you won't ever get rid of me. I'll always be here for you."
In a brief fit of passion, Helga seized the back of Arnold's oblong head, and pulled him into the most passionate kiss she'd ever bestowed upon his lips. (And, knowing Helga, that was quite a bold statement.) Arnold responded immediately, his hands spread flat against her back, tugging her as close to his body as was humanly possible. Their lips moved fluidly against each others, their heads tilted every now again in the search of the angle that forced them closest together.
Miles and Stella were feeling... uncomfortable to say the least. After all, not many twelve year olds were comfortable kissing in such an extreme way, but, the way they seemed to move in unison, it most certainly was not an uncommon occurrence. They weren't sure how to feel about that, but, considering the fact that the two sixth graders had apparently been dating since they were in preschool, they figured that the two must've grown that relaxed with the more... intimate aspects of their relationship.
In saying that, Arnold and Helga's kiss didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon, and the two adults had no interest in standing around, watching the children make out in front of them, especially when there were matters that still needed to be addressed. So, Stella and Miles cleared their throats at the same time, successfully capturing Arnold and Helga's attention and causing them to pull away. They stared at each other, just now realizing the fact that there were other people in the room. And not just other people. Arnold's parents.
Arnold's previous words to Helga, (which seemed so correct, so right, at the time), echoed in his mind, and the rudeness, the complete disregard of his parent's decisions and hopes, shocked him into blushing, with flying-saucer eyes. He blinked rapidly, dragging his gaze away from the blonde-haired beauty before him to stare at his parents. "Mom, Dad, I -"
Stella smiled at him, rather sadly, but reassuringly. "You don't need to apologize, sweetheart. I... your father and I understand. Helga is important to you, and, as much as I'd like to tuck you away in a suitcase and take you with us, I know that you'd just hate us forever."
Miles wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders with an agreeing nod. "Stella and I will go to San Lorenzo and cure the Green Eyes of the sleeping sickness. We really don't know how long we'll be gone, but La Sombra isn't there to torment the natives, so there shouldn't be any pressing dangers. We'll teach Eduardo how to prepare the medicine, and when that's all finished, we'll come back."
"Now that I think about it," Stella said, shooting her husband a knowing look, "I don't think there'd be much for you to do, anyway. Except for maybe taking hikes through the jungles and playing games with the other kids there. You'd probably be bored after two days!"
"We'll write letters," Miles continued. "We'll write to you every week, and then it'll be like we're on an... extended vacation."
"What do you think?" Stella asked sweetly, her gaze shifting between her son, and Helga, (who had pivoted to give her soon-to-be parents-in-laws her full attention), trying to gauge their reaction.
"I think..." Arnold's eyes returned to his girlfriend, his emerald irises warming at her shocked, blushing profile, and a grin spread across his face. His tears were long passed, only the distant streaks serving as evidence to his previous grief. "I think that sounds... Oh, Helga -"
The boy spun Helga around again, smashing his lips against hers for a brief, deep, loving kiss. When he pulled back, Helga had on a goofy, lovesick smile, and she looked dazed, her eyes unfocused as she tried to look at him. He broke away from his girlfriend, (a little reluctantly, but for good reason), and ran forward towards his parents, throwing his arms around their waists and burying the side of his face in his mother's stomach. He had a very wide smile on his face, and his eyes drifted closed, relishing in the kindness that Helga, Grandpa, and Grandma had insisted they'd passed on to him. His love for them, (which was already fairly strong), had just swelled, almost painfully, in his chest, and the moment he felt his parent's hands patting him on the back, he let out a little sigh. "I'm sorry... and thank you," he whispered sincerely, nuzzling his face deeper into her dress-clad stomach. "I love you."
"We love you, too, Arnold," his parents responded together, voice equally as quiet.
The three remained in the tight embrace for a long moment, before Arnold pulled back, looking up at them with thankful eyes. "Um... I just..." His happiness, still very evident in his face, grew more sheepish and slightly embarrassed as he said, "Is it okay if Helga and I go upstairs for a little bit? We'll be back down, I promise, but I'd just like... just a little time alone with her."
Miles and Stella shared a rather concerned look, (after all, they didn't seem very shy when it came to kissing each other, and, without supervision, even at twelve, who knew what would happen), but the pleading look in Arnold's eyes was answer enough. He needed her comfort, as she needed his; she'd calm him down, and he'd calm her down, more successfully than anybody else possibly could.
After a brief moment of silence, Stella nodded and said, "Of course. But be down before dinner. We want to spend as much time as we can together before Eduardo comes." She suddenly turned to the pigtailed girl and tacked on, "Oh, and speaking of dinner. Helga, would you like to stay over?"
Helga nodded instantly. "Doi. I could never pass up spending some time with my favorite Football Head, his amazing parents, his kooky grandparents, and the zany, but lovable boarders. Besides, Miriam forgot to buy groceries, again, so I'd probably just end up having potato chips and cheese for dinner."
Miles raised an eyebrow at his son. "Miriam?"
"Helga's mom," Arnold said quickly, taking hold of Helga's hand and beginning to walk her to the doorway of the kitchen. "We'll be back down later," he said over his shoulder, watching in slight bewilderment and amusement as the parrot from the window sill flew after them, perching himself decisively on Helga's shoulder and squawking insensibly. "Um, Helga?" he asked, looking at her with a smile. "I just have one question. Why'd you bring me a parrot?"
The girl giggled. "He's my dad's. He flew into my bedroom last night and heard me reciting some poetry; he's been saying it over and over all day -"
"Oh, Arnold, my love, my sultry preteen. The kindest soul my cynic eyes have ever, ever seen -"
Arnold chuckled, and the last thing his parents heard before they were out of ear shot was, "How did I get so lucky to fall in love with such a beautiful poet -"
There was silence in the kitchen for a few long moments, before Miles turned to his wife and said, an eyebrow raised in incredulity, "We have a... strange son."
Stella nodded in agreement, her eyes fixed on some point out the kitchen window. "I'll say."
This takes place two years after Arnold and Helga and Gerald rescued Miles and Stella, for reference.