Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold!
(Though I do wish it was continued. AT LEAST MAKE THE SECOND MOVIE. Hmph.)
"I was thinking of throwing a party this weekend, but didn't think there was any real reason for it," Gerald says while lounging on the couch in Arnold's room.
"No, she might just tell me to throw one. That'll be another problem," Arnold says as he paces, thinking of what to tell Helga the next day.
"There's a new movie coming out soon," he tries again. "I was wondering if you'd wanna watch it."
"No, what new movie? I can't say that," Arnold says and shakes his head vigorously. "Besides, then she'll think I'm trying to ask her out."
"Isn't that what you tried to do anyway?" Gerald asks and gives Arnold a pointed look.
"Well, yeah but…" he trails off, thinking. "A movie doesn't mean anything to her. Poetry, it just… connects to a different side of her."
"One that I haven't actually seen yet, that 'nice Helga' you keep talking about," Gerald rolls his eyes, trying to recall the last time he's seen Arnold so worked up about a girl like this. He's gone all gooey and gaga for Ruth and Lila before, but this whole thing with Helga is a completely new level. Must be hormones or somethin'.
Arnold thinks back to when he first discovered, really discovered how much Helga loves poetry.
"Okay class, this week's assignment is going to be, wait for it," Miss Wells paused for dramatic effect. "Shakespeare," she ended, expecting to create a buzz in the class. No one so much as nodded in acknowledgement. She sighed and shook her head sadly at the minimal response she got. "Whether you people like it or not, we're going to study his work, act out his plays and immerse ourselves in his poems. Now, I've taken out a few books from the school's library…" she continued on with the lesson and passed around a few alarmingly large books. Arnold wasn't very excited about doing Shakespeare, but he didn't really mind. By coincidence he happened to glance at Helga from across the room, and he noticed something was different about her facial expression. It was like she tried not to smile, or look too excited. Helga's… happy about this?
"Now, I want everyone to pair up and select a work of Shakespeare's to present to the class next week," Miss Wells said and an audible grumble was sounded by the students. Acting as if she didn't hear anything, she continued on. "I'm choosing the pairings, so don't try to weasel your way out of this assignment by saying you couldn't find a partner." Yet another wave of grumbles came.
"Do we get anything if we actually do any good?" someone spoke up from behind. Arnold thought it sounded like Stinky.
Miss Wells thought for a moment and nodded. "Fine then, I'll make this a competition. The best pair that presents their piece will be exempted from writing the 2000-word essay I was planning to give at the end of next week." The class erupted into a mess of 'what?' and 'no way' and 'I've got this in the bag'. "Now, now, will everyone please calm down? I'm not finished," Miss Wells said and the whole class fell silent. "That's better. Second placing will have the essay reduced to one thousand words and third will have to do one thousand and five hundred words."
"Not much of a difference," Gerald muttered from behind Arnold.
"Would you like to make it three thousand words, Gerald?" Miss Wells said, looking straight at him through her rimless glasses.
"NO!" the entire class roared, some getting up from their seats in protest, while others glared intensely at Gerald. She looked intently at Gerald, waiting for him to speak up. "No, Miss Wells," he said and kept his head down.
She smiled tightly. "Let's move on then," she said and ran her finger down a list. "Okay and the pairings are…" she read out the names, and one after another heads started turning towards their new partners. Arnold waited and listened for her to say his name. "…Rhonda and Harold, Arnold and Helga, Sid and Stinky…"
Wait, what? Arnold's head shot up at the sound of his name and Helga's in the same breath. He turned in her direction to see she was looking at him too, eyes as wide as dinner plates. Just my luck, she's gonna make my life a living hell this week. Arnold was about to get up and walk over to her place until she suddenly asked to be excused. Surprised, Arnold at back and watched her leave the classroom. I'll just wait and talk to her when she gets back, I guess. But he didn't get the chance to talk to her because she never came back to class.
When the bell rang, he picked up his stuff and left the classroom. Out in the hallway by the drinking fountain, he saw Brainy lying on the floor. Looks like someone punched him again. Arnold sighed as he helped him back up on his feet. Someone should really find out who keeps doing this.
A few steps down the hallway he bumped into Helga.
"Watch it Football Head! You almost poked my eye out; I might not even have lived to start this stupid project with you," she sneered. "I probably would've been saved from misery, though." She started picking up her books and got up. Arnold did the same.
"Hey, I don't like this arrangement as much as you do but we don't have a choice," he glared back at her. "What happened to you just now anyway?" Arnold suddenly asked, catching Helga off guard. She turned crimson-red and looked away.
"Uh…n-nothing," she said, apparently at a loss for words. She regained composure and her face reverted back to her signature scowl. "What's it you? It's none of your business, so just back off already!" she snapped.
Arnold was taken aback at her sudden anger. "Helga—"
"Like I was saying," she cut in. "I'm only gonna do this because I don't want to write that stupid essay, so we better win this thing." Her mood changed again to bossy Helga. "So meet me in the library after school today. I just wanna get this done and over with so I can get back to more important things to do," she said and stormed off.
Arnold watched her retreating back with a furrowed brow. Why do I have to be stuck with her? Of all people in the world, why her? He shook his head and headed to his next class.
After school, he went into the library and saw no one sitting at the tables. She's late. I wonder if she's even coming. He set his books down on one of the tables and approached the counter. "Hi Mrs. Thatcher. Did you see Helga come in today?" he asked the librarian.
The wise-looking lady looked up from what looked like an encyclopedia and smiled. "Oh yes, Helga. She's down in her favourite section, been here since the bell rang." Arnold wondered which section she was referring to, but guessed it would be somewhere along the sports section or magazine section. He started walking to the left side of the library when Mrs. Thatcher spoke up. "Not that way, sweetie. The Art and Literature section is on the right side."
He was surprised to hear this, but moved there nonetheless. As he neared the bookshelves, he heard a faint voice from deep within the aisles. It was someone – a girl – softly reciting a poem. He recognized it was Shakespeare, but he couldn't recognize the voice. It can't be Helga. Everything about that voice was sweet, tender and sincere; so full of heartfelt passion. It really can't be her. But as he rounded the corner of the aisle he saw it was Helga, sitting on the floor. A few books were opened and scattered all around her and even more in a stack to her right, just waiting to be read. She didn't notice Arnold's arrival, she just kept reading. Arnold watched, mouth slightly agape. Who knew?
Helga finished and looked up to stretch her neck. That's when she saw who was standing a few feet away from her. Startled, she quickly got up, knocking a few books off their shelves. Her face was a deep red, eyes searching around the library in a panicked way. Probably wishing she was somewhere else but here.
But Arnold didn't care that she thought it was embarrassing. He didn't care that Helga was glaring at him, either from anger or embarrassment. All he knew was one thing. "So you like poetry," he whispered and smiled. Helga turned a deeper shade of red.
"So what if I do?" she said defensively, hastily picking up the books that were strewn all over the floor and put them back on the shelves. He stopped her and took them from her hands.
"I think it's nice," he said. She just looked at him, not knowing what to say. "Let's use these books and get started on the project." He looked at her for a moment. "Unless you suggest some other book? I mean, you're the expert." She smiled – briefly – and picked up a book from one of the shelves.
"This one's better." She led the way to one of the tables and they got started on their work. After a few hours, they were almost done. "Not bad, Football Head, not bad at all."
"I could say the same to you," he replied and her face flushed pink. "Why don't you want people to know how much you like poetry?" he asked, looking at her straight in the eye, but not unkindly.
She looked at him, thinking whether to answer the question or not. "I don't know. I guess it makes me look weak. I mean, who'd be scared of someone who writes poems and talks like everything is 'full of unspoken realities', if that makes any sense," she shrugged. "I've got an image to keep up with here."
"First of all, I don't think that did make sense," he said jokingly, which was replied with soft punch on the arm from Helga. "Second of all, who says that makes you weak? Because it doesn't. Strength isn't just physical, you know. Third of all, why do you want to keep up that tough image?" he asked. "Don't you get tired of it?"
Helga was silent for a while. "I have to keep up the image because…" she trailed off, thinking of the best way to put it. Finally she sighed. "I just have to," she said and that was it. End of discussion. Arnold decided to let it go. Can't expect her to open up about everything.
It was getting late, so Arnold thought it would be best to walk her home. For once, they just talked. No sneering, no insulting. She's being nice to me. So Helga is human. When they reached Helga's doorstep it was almost dark.
"You better hurry home, it's really late," she said and they said goodbye. As Arnold was walking down the sidewalk, he heard her say something else. "Arnold!" He turned around to see her still on the porch steps, almost opening the door. "I do get tired of it. That's why the past few hours were like a day off. Thanks," she said and smiled. A real, genuine smile. Arnold smiled back as she walked in. He went home with a small skip in his step.
Arnold smiles at the memory, oblivious to Gerald's attempts to get his attention.
"Arnold!" Gerald says loudly, shaking him from his thoughts. "Seriously, man, get a grip. Now, you've got a whole night to think about what to tell her. You better think of something good." Gerald makes his way to the door. "You know, if it's too hard, then just tell her the truth. She's not gonna kill you or anything." With that he steps out onto the sidewalk. At least I hope she won't.
To those whose have reviewed, thank you so so so much! :)
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