Her ringlets of hair start to frizz as she intakes breaths inside a muggy box-like space.

"Helga?" She hears a few soft knocks against the wooden door. "Are you alright?"

Helga puffs out air. "Criminy, can't a girl pee in peace!"

"Sorry," She hears the sweet, apologetic voice remark. "But your hasty exit was cause for concern."

Criminy! It was just a silly little slow dance! That was just typical teenage behavior. It meant nothing! Lightly, she whacks her forehead, gripping it. I can't believe I tried to kiss him. Ugh. What was I thinking? "Yeah, I know...Pheebs, t-thanks."

She straightens up; veiling her emotions behind a neutral expression once she opens the stall door. The brunette girl looks her over with droppings of worry in her stare. She shrugs quickly. Then huffs when Phoebe's expression turns suspicious. "I'm perfectly fine, okay. Now, are you ready to leave?"

Helga, hearing incoming voices doesn't wait for a reply and bursts out of the bathroom with Phoebe right on her heels.

The chocolate-eyed girl turns curiously in the direction of the conversations. "But, hold on, I would like to say my goodbyes to - oompf," Phoebe gasps at how she yanks her arm. "Geez, Helga, just pull my arm out of my socket why don't you!"

Helga loosens her tight grip, giving her a slight apologetic grin. Hehe, sometimes I forget my strength. She continues existing in quick steps, though. "Just come on. Your dad said he'd be outside at the time we guessed the festivities would end." She rolls her eyes. "Like we're babies or something," Helga grumbles and reaches down to pull off her high heels; walking barefoot, out the door and down to the sidewalk.

Phoebe's stubbier legs, at the moment, fail her in keeping up. The breeze bounces against her cheeks, flushing them red, and she spots her father's car. She sighs in relief when Helga finally slows her pace for her to catch up. But her breathing still comes out heavier. "He said he'd be out waiting if we're ready to leave. So if you're against being treated in an infantile matter, then why are you insisting we leave so abruptly?"

Her mildly soft eyes slink over to her companions. "Because ..." Helga stammers. "As I've said over and over again I'm sick of looking at a buncha dolts."

Phoebe, folding her arms stops for half a second watching her climb into the backseat. Her eyes drift back to the entrance, spotting an unmistakable silhouette, his gaze appearing even in the shadows to be in their direction. So of course, it doesn't take much analyzing to figure out what motivates Helga's actions. Her interest moves to her blushing, impatient friend, observing the overall glow of her skin, which couldn't have just been caused by the wind.

"Hey, what's with the lollygagging?" She scuffs, focusing only on her need to flee. "You can drool over Geraldo on your time."

Phoebe leans on the door, in a laid back fashion. "I am not, and even if was I wouldn't be the only one between us drooling over someone."

Helga stares at her through the window for a second then sneers. "Oh shudup, I'm not thinking about anyone in that way."

"Hmm, okay, if you say so, Helga."

Phoebe catches sight of a fleeting figure going back inside, and her mind does fill with images of Gerald.

The bearing growl escaping Helga's lips drew Phoebe's attention back to the car. "I do say so. Now cmon quit stalling, I'm getting old here."

A few giddy giggles release from her. "Coming, Helga." As cheerily states while sliding into the car, still with a knowing smirk on her lips.

Two teenagers quietly walk the streets of Hillwood with no end goal.

Gerald, taking in a glimpse of his pensive looking friend gathers that there has to be a reason for his lack of speech. And he's finally fed up with hearing him heave out loud sighs every few moments. "Look, man, are you gonna just come out with whatever is bugging you or am I gonna have to put you in a headlock until you crack."

Arnold strangely laughs. "It's nothing..."

"The way you keep making these annoying noises, it doesn't sound like nothing to me." He tightens his lips. "Does this have anything to do with Pataki?" Arnold sideway glance gave him the answer immediately. "What's the problem you got to dance with her? Rather tightly I might add."

Arnold scratches behind his neck, blushing a tad. "It's not that...well; I'd never try to kiss a girl without taking her on a proper date first. I think Helga deserves the same respect. Plus I don't even know how she feels-" The whole time Arnold continues talking about his gentlemanly ways, Gerald is smirking and rolling his eyes. "I should have been straight forward but an odd mood just too over me."

"Is that all?" Arnold sheepishly grins and does quick nod. Gerald has a feeling there's more to it but doesn't pry. "But you didn't kiss her," he shivers in mock disgust, and Arnold sucks his teeth. Gerald lets out a exhale of his own. "Aye listen, just make sure you get in there soon," He shrugs. "And everything will be cool. It's not like Pataki's some fragile flower."

At first, he nods but his forehead creases. "Wait - What do you mean by 'get in there'?"

His dark brown eyes tighten at Arnold, and he shrugs. "You know, dating or however you want to put it."

"Oh." Arnold smiles, blushes and gently sighs.

Gerald's eyes rake over his friend. "What did you think I meant?" He squints tighter and cuts his gaze away chuckling. "Mmm-mm-mm. Ah man, I always suspected you were an undercover pervert."

"Gerald!" he yelps but starts laughing right along with him. "I... I'm not like that."

"Uh-huh," He nudges Arnold arm a couple of times, grinning. "sure-sure."

Arnold chews on his lower lip forcing back images from taking vivid form. His stomach growls cut through his thoughts, and a bright smile pops on his face as a restaurant sign comes into view. "Wanna go grab a slice?"

"Cool, I'll even pay but only if you quit tripping over some skirt."

"You would get a kick in the groin for calling her that." He smirks. "And I would do nothing to stop her."

Arnold scuffs after finishing reading his own paper and puts zero energy into tossing it in the trash. He hefts out of his chair and goes to sprawl out on his bed with a pen in hand and pad in his lap. His eyes immediately flip up, watching the clouds darkening trying to find some inspiration in the scenery. His eyes roll over to the multiple balls of paper scattered on his bed and his rug. He runs his clammy, ink-stained palms over the width of his face and huffs. "Romance. Man, why did she have to pick this topic?" The corners of his mouth inch up slowly. I bet, Helga's writing this with ease. Recalling the tenderness on her face as she danced solo to a beautiful instrumental. I bet her words are heavenly. Now all his mind could picture is speckles of gold, blue and a little pink on a distractingly lovely palette.

A glance over at his clock causes frustration and a little panic to fill him. And for a meter second, he seriously considers rummaging through a poetry book in search of something. But not only would that be plagiarism, but behind that, it would also be immoral to use someone else's work. So with a long inhale, exhale, he continues with this hair ripping task until satisfied enough with the outcome.

So the next day, he enters the classroom, with dark smudges underneath his eyes and even messier hair. He offers a friendly smile and shrug to the few raised brows his appearance earns as he slides into his seat.

Everyone works quietly on a task while their instructor reads through and marks each student's paper.

The whole class fidgets watching their teacher searching through the pile of papers. "Hmm, let's see who should we choose for today's poetry reading."

Almost everyone sinks deeper into the chairs, praying not to get picked. The dark, curly haired woman's eyes scan the dreading-worthy faces and stop on a blonde. "Helga." Her stomach drops, Oh no not again! "Please remove all headgear when you arrive on school grounds."

"Oh," She giggles throatily, and removes her cap doing nothing to fix her 'hat hair.' Thank God.

Ms. Hudson stops on one of her best male students whose focus stays on a blonde in the back after everyone else had turned around. She shakes her head, a partial smile to her lips as she finds his work. "Because the theme was about romance due to our Shakespeare study and you're at this vulnerable age..." She nods, amusedly grinning. "Yes, I remember what it's like to be a teenager. I will do the honor of reading a poem, the poet, I won't reveal."

Everyone sighs loudly in complete relief.

"Hesitations grips me." Just with those first three words, Helga softly lets some more air out of her lungs, and her shoulders drop down. Thank God, it's not mine. She prompts her head lazily on her hand, listening as Mrs. Hudson reads on. "Sometimes with a soft, gentle squeeze and sometimes with an iron fist

That split second where you see that one with whimsical smile and your body is screaming at the top of its lungs 'SAY SOMETHING, YOU FOOL!'" The whole room jumps when she enthusiastically raises her usually calm voice. "While your brain mulls over the endless stream of stressful situations

I can hear Robin Williams calling out to me 'Let me hear your YAWP!' and I'm shaking, quivering, rattling, generating the vocal ferocity of a lion! But sheesh all that comes out is a whimpering 'yawp…'

A harmless compliment to brighten someone's day, no harm done, just a quick simple 'I like your pants' a smile, and I'm on my way
Simple! Wrong! That flickering candle of pleasantries is cut short by a swiftly shutting window of opportunity

The breeze not hesitating to extinguish its light
Hesitation grips me
How many moments must I suffer paralyzed lips before my can of complimentary worms opens?
This hesitation grips me!
It shackles me and holds the key in front of my face, and all it requires is one real Yawp! The mustering has begun! That key is my freedom of hesitant chains! I think I can I - think I can - think I can! 'yawp…' Le sigh.
Hesitation grips me."

"The end." And the class respectfully applauds. Once that simmers, she bobs her head. "Now, this, students is an example of someone enduring unrequited love. A subject we've read and discussed more than a few times." Mrs. Hudson spies a boy's face turn embarrassingly red and smiles sympathetically. "Any quick thoughts before we end," She asks while witnessing one student dropping her cheek to her desk. "Helga, how about you, what is your take on this?"

She jerks upright with a sheer startle in her eyes.

Ugh, why is she always picking on me? Helga, who realizes she has many eyes on her, lightly glares at a few of them. Then her eyes flick up to her teacher, with a hint of a smirk on her mouth. "It was hot, white hot." The teacher shifts to one side of her body, looking a bit perturbed and disapproving. Helga does eye roll and folds her arms on her desk. "Look, I don't know, I'm no expert or anything, but I guess it was decent." It seems like her teacher is waiting for more so she says the last bit floating in her mind. "The writer kind of sounds likes a wimp, though to be completely honest."

Emerald eyes widen from the front row and their owner face-palms.

"Ms. Pataki..." She starts out in a chastising tone, but for everyone, luckily, the bell rings.

Helga stacks her items and makes her way out of the classroom. Pausing in her footwork, only because she thinks her name delicately whispered but shaking her head at her mistake and resumes her stride.

Arnold had gone to bed early. With the weekend here he wanted to sleep away his thoughts of his parents being away, school and also an amazing yet frustrating girl.

And this sleep feels everlasting, refreshing and much needed. Unfortunately, Arnold couldn't wake up to the same peacefulness. His eyes pop open, rudely yanked out of his sleep state by glass scattering and great shouting.

Ugh, what the hell.

He sits upright on his bed, moaning, running his fingers down his face; he collapses back into his pillow. Trying to bury his face in the folds, but the voices seem to rise.

What a wonderful way to wake up. Arnold strolls into the bathroom, slowly gets dressed all the while the verbal bash is still in full effort. Finishing, he goes outside of his room to sit down on the top of his stairwell. He rests his chin in his hands, watching as the other tenants join in on the shouting match.

"Again!" Their necks whip up to a frowning young Shortman. "Almost every day it's the same thing. Why can't you guys act like adults?" He stands up, stuffing his hands in his light jacket. "Man if my parents saw this..." He grits his teeth, trying to hold back. "Now I understand why my grandfather wanted to sell this place. You guys are impossible."

Their mouths snap shut, and they freeze in place, gawking at the back of a frustrated Arnold lumbering away. Such a rare sight.

Everyone stays still until the door latches closed.

"See what you did!" Erin shouts at Oskar, and the quarrel involving all parties starts all over again. Arnold exhales deeply and lowers down to rest on the top step, his brows etched up in thought.

Helga slouches down on the couch with a puff completely ignoring her father. Miriam struts down the stairs in her pumps and pencil skirt. Her face twists up a bit at the sight of her teenage daughter. "Helga dear, it's noon, aren't you going to get dressed?"

She looks at her gray sweatshirt, charcoal skinny pants, and absently shrugs. "I'm already dressed."

Miriam arches one eyebrow. "You know you would be so much prettier if you would do something with your appearance."

She nonchalantly pops a grape into her mouth. "I happened to like looking butt ugly thank you very much."

That quip earns her a heavy sigh in response. "Helga that is not what I mean. You're gorgeous, beautiful but everyone needs a little extra something to spruce up their appearance." She pauses giving some paperwork a brief look over. "Let us start with your hair." Helga's fingers absently drift to her mane; lazily pulled in a low, loose ponytail.

Comfort trumps style. "Mom, I'm at home…"

"But sweetie you dress like this all the time. Don't you want yourself a little boyfriend?"

Helga looks at her, blankly and shakes her head. "Nope, I'm a lesbian." She jokes with a straight face, simply to get a rise out of her. And Miriam begins to cough-choke, accidentally spraying out some of her coffee.

Helga silently snickers and devilishly lifts her brows. She respects and admires her mom for sobering up and taking charge of her life and career. But sometimes Miriam can be so critical and close-minded.

While Bob has the opposite reaction, sitting in his chair, obnoxiously cackles, mumbling what sounds like; "I wouldn't be surprised."

The middle-aged dress suit clad woman glares at her daughter. "Helga, stop it. That's not funny."

Under her mother's gaze again, she puts on her best poker face. "Who says I was trying to be funny? That's what you think right because I rather not dress like a freaking barbie doll."

Before Miriam could reply, a late twenty-something blonde unexpectedly comes in the house with a handful of groceries.

"Hello, family!" She shrills making Helga temporarily cover her ears. "I was shopping for Andrew and me, but the store was having such a good sale that I decided to pick on some things for you all!" Her happy yet tired eyes find Helga with ease. "Baby sister, will you please help me with these bags?"

Of course, she wouldn't dare ask the so-called big man of the house. Who's doing absolutely nothing! In spite of her annoyance, she obliges not wanting to hear any whining or insults aimed her way.

After putting away more than half of the groceries, she inwardly cringes while listening to Olga's bragging. Watching her parents hanging on her every word.

"So," She thunders with a braze fist hitting the table to get everyone's attention and succeeds. But she hesitates under their gaze. The whole Pataki clan is here, I might as well ask... "Anything, uh exciting you're looking forward to tomorrow."

"Oh, well not particularly exciting. But I'll be volunteering at the women and children's homeless shelter; you should come, Helga."

Helga swiftly shakes her head and puts her sights on her mom.

"I've organized an important meeting with the Sr. Associates down at the office."

She squeezed her eyes preparing for the inevitable disappointment. But she forces the word out anyway. "D-Dad?"

"What?" Bob huffs. "Packing, I'll be at the airport all day probably because I'm heading to Texas to meet with a contractor."

Helga smiles wryly sliding her hands to her hips. "Why baby sister? What makes you ask? Do you have any specific endeavors for tomorrow?"

They fucking forgot. I can't believe it. No... I can they're all just so predictable. Helga continues smiling that crooked mixed meaning one and shrugs her shoulders. "No sis," Her eyes shift to her parents. "I have nothing going on, at all." Her long stems get her upstairs in a snap.

Tuning out the peeved voices rising, she grabs her things and out the door, she goes. The swift wind blows powerfully, with Helga's athletic frame and pace she easily moves through it.

At first, Helga drifts aimlessly, randomly kicking a can for a few feet with one of her dearest belongings tucked under her arm. Until a brilliant trumpet horn hits her ears, viewing the sign, she doesn't feel hesitant to enter. Standing right on the threshold of the all age welcoming, non-alcoholic serving lounge and breathes in the scent. Not her favorite smell in the world, but it never fails to refresh her no matter what her mood is.

Entering further, she allows the tranquilizing music to ease away anything negative lingering inside of her. Finding the booth she took claim of, as usual, she finds herself slipping into her little universe. In neat cursive handwriting, Helga spells out whatever sentiments on the edges of her mind. But she does it by resolving things using a bit of her unique humor.

Still stuck in her little world, she doesn't notice a guy her age walk in. A hint of pleasantry on his lip and relaxation in his posture. The journey there swept some of his tension away, and the soothing energy inside fades any lingering strain.

His eyes scan the space locating a breath hitching view in the back corner. As a result, some sprinklings of anxiety settle within him. Their last encounter wasn't exactly forgettable. In fact, he's had a hard time focusing on much else, in spite of his efforts. Since that occurrence, he hadn't been able to strike even a resemblance of a conversation with her.

But stopping for a second shuffling his feet back and forth he thinks maybe this is finally his chance.

Arriving closer to the booth she resides in, despite being utterly spellbound, he finds his voice. "Wow, H-Helga, I can't believe you're here too..." The pleasant, smooth voice makes her chin dart up and her already large eyes stretch wide. His eyes rake in the full sight before him. Finally, he meets her gaze directly as his fingers graze the back of his neck. "What are the odds?"