Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.
Years Later
And Then There Was
(Another Interlude of Sorts)
Gerard B. Garrison had seen many cases just like Helga's before. He had been a parole officer for ten years, and after all those years he had learned a lesson from case #0072, a poor kid who had just gotten out of juvenile prison for robbery and had a serious drug addiction.
Case #0072 had been amazingly smart kid who showed a promising future and back then when Gerard was young, and not to mention stupid, invested extra time in Case #0072 trying to help him along his recovery and advancement.
It was two months into his role as Case #0072's parole officer did he notice that money conveniently went missing from his wallet after every meeting with his parolee.
As it turned out Case #0072 was back to his old tricks and was stealing from him in order o get back into his normal fix, cocaine.
Only two months out and Case #0072 landed himself back in jail once again, except this time he turned eighteen in juvie and was transferred into the county jail… and Jonathan Christians became a case number to Gerard, just like all those who followed him. To Gerard there was no real point in learning their birth given names, they all wound up in the same places—in jail or in a cemetery buried under six feet of dirt.
None of these kids would ever change. They could change skins but deep down they were still all the same thieving, lying, manipulating menaces that found themselves under his warden ship before the police caught them and sent them his way.
Helga entered their designated meeting place of Cocoa Café nearly ten minutes early and took her seat across from the stern, graying man in the corner of the medium sized café.
She had not wanted to get out of bed that morning but knew she had to; it would do for her to miss her first parole meeting.
She didn't bother to care about her appearance, throwing on a sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, and a pair of ratty, old sneakers. She brushed her still dull blonde locks to a half hearted, hap hazardous ponytail, not even bothering to use makeup to cover her sleep induced bruises that laid underneath her eyes.
He did not even bother to look up from the manila folder he was examining, only sparing her a glance once he looked up to take a large gulp of his now lukewarm coffee.
"So…" Gerard searched the documents for a name. "Miss Pataki, it seems that I'll be looking after you for eight months. It would seem that Judge Patton likes you."
Helga said nothing, knowing that it would be better for her to keep quiet.
Gerard finally looked up the manila folder and curled his lips in distaste as he looked at Helga. "So do you have a volunteer job Miss Pataki?"
Helga wanted to roll her eyes at the man, but knew better than that. This man held her freedom in the palms of his wrinkly, graying, old hands and there was no which way in hell was she going to mess with the freedom that she had been gifted.
Even if the guy was a jackass.
"Yes. It's at Abby's Daycare on 48 Main Road."
Gerard raised a single graying, bushy eyebrow, which in at least Helga's opinion, needed a good waxing and shaping. "Really," He drawled and continued to look at Helga in distaste. "Do you have any documents to prove this?"
Helga shifted around in her seat to pull out a few pieces of crumpled paper that Stella had given to her yesterday afternoon to give to her parole officer from the back pocket of her fading black jeans.
Wordlessly she handed Gerard the crumpled pieces of paper, not even bothering to straighten them to look semi-presentable.
Gerard curled lips lifted even more I distaste, but Helga ignored him, she only had to deal with him for a every week for a few months before she only had to deal with him once every few months before she didn't have to see him at all.
Gerard smoothed out the crinkled pieces of paper and skimmed his eyes over them before placing them in the manila folder. "So you'll be working for Mrs. Linshaw at her daycare?"
Helga was fairly sure that, that was obvious but nodded her head anyway.
"Linshaw, eh? She's Arnold Linshaw's mother isn't she… Miles' wife too, eh?"
This was when Helga G. Pataki realized that just like every other moronic soul in the district of Crinshaw High School, Gerard B. Garrison was obsessed with the Crinshaw Spartans' Football team.
Just great.
Helga said nothing, instead she just waited for the man's dark blue eyes to snap out of his daydreaming, Spartans induced, daze.
Gerard cleared his throat and his dazed look disappeared. "So, Miss Pataki if I call up Mrs. Linshaw she will tell me that you are indeed volunteering at her daycare center?" He gave Helga skeptical look. After all, the teenager definitely didn't look like she should be working with children and thereby, shouldn't really be working at a daycare.
The teenager looked like she had been starved and hadn't slept for months; she probably scared kids more than she helped them.
Helga nodded her head. "Stella hired me for volunteer work yesterday afternoon."
Gerard raised an eyebrow at her familiarity with Stella A. Linshaw, but said nothing of it. "Well in that case we're done for today, we'll meet here same time next week unless I change it."
Helga nodded her head, noticing that Gerard left her no room to change the time or days of their weekly appointments.
"Good."
Without so much as a goodbye Gerard swept up from his chair and left Cocoa Café with his gray trench coat on and his manila folder in hand.
As soon as Gerard was out of sight Helga picked up her pink cellphone and pressed down the number two to speed dial Phoebe before connecting the call to her number four speed dial, Sid.
They had talked really quickly during school, chatting semi-easily, but not as comfortably as they used to. They skirted around what they really wanted to talk about—what exactly was going on in Helga's life.
They had come up with the generally consensus that once Helga was done with her parole officer meeting they would meet her wherever she was.
It only took five minutes for her to confirm the meeting place with her two best friends; they both said that they would get to the café in ten minutes or so.
That gave Helga ten minutes to prepare for the highly volatile mood Phoebe was bound to be in and get ready to answer Sid's million and one question. In general, Helga was preparing herself for a battle between herself and her two friends.
They would try to pry information out of her, and even if she did really want to give them any, Helga would vehemently hold onto as much information as she could.
Helga had always been a secretive person and she liked to keep aspects about herself strictly to herself, that's just they way she was. She allowed people to see only the amount she wanted to see, everything else she held for herself.
But even with those ten minutes, plus the five extra minutes for Phoebe having to argue with her mother to get out of the house, Helga really didn't actually prepare herself; she really wasn't in the mood.
Instead she ordered a plain cup of French vanilla and enjoyed, and being the considerate person that she was she ordered Phoebe a cup of double chocolate hot chocolate and got Sid coffee with mild and sugar added. She also ordered a plate of chocolate cookies for her friends, Helga didn't even bother to touch the cookies—she didn't have any appetite.
When Sid and Phoebe arrived at the café they easily spotted their blonde friend sitting in a corner booth that was situated across the room. It was funny how even without her radically pink or platinum dyed hair that Helga could easily be spotted in a busy area.
Wordlessly the two teenagers made their way to where Helga was sitting before plopping down across from the blonde, noticing that their respective drinks were already ordered for them and sitting on the table along with the full plate of chocolate cookies.
There was a quick, not to mention sort, choruses of hellos as Sid and Phoebe took their seats.
Sid needed no invitation as he chugged down his sugary coffee and dug into the plate of cookies, finishing half of the plate before Phoebe even reached for one.
Phoebe, on the other hand, stirred her hot chocolate, liberally taking sips as she munched on a single cookie.
After ten minutes but one of the chocolate chip cookies had disappeared and both Phoebe and Sid finished their respective beverages—Sid faster than Phoebe. It was then that Sid raised an eyebrow at Helga, not caring that he looked like a little kid with the crumbs of the cookie scattered across his cheeks. "So?"
He expected an answer and from what Helga saw on Phoebe's murderous looking face, Phoebe wanted answers as well, but Helga hesitated for a moment.
For a while she stared blankly at the two people she considered to be her best friends, contemplating how much she would, how much she could tell them.
"So Helga?" Phoebe asked, repeating the same unspoken question that Sid had previously asked with a glare locked in on Helga's position.
"I'm living with Arty now."
And so the game of twenty or so questions began.
"Why?" Sid asked as he took a napkin and swiped off the crumb littered across her face.
"Because if I stayed at The Pink Flamingo McNielson said I wouldn't technically be in Crinshaw High School district any longer and I would have to transfer to another school."
Phoebe and Sid accepted her answer, not even bothering to heck for any validity; after all it would explain why Arty was at the school with Helga yesterday.
"So why didn't you tell us."
It was Phoebe's turn to ask a question.
"Because I didn't want to worry you guys."
Phoebe snorted. "So not answering any of our phone calls and having us check your room at The Pink Flamingo empty doesn't worry us, right?"
"I was busy working things out with Stella." Helga said as her eyes wandered around the room before settling on gazing out the window as they unfocused.
There Helga dropped information for Phoebe and Sid to devour, but considering that Sid actually knew who Stella was, he was the one who took a bite and questioned her.
"Stella? As in Stella Linshaw? As in Arnold's mom?" The look on Sid's face was comical, and Helga was playing twenty or so questions with Phoebe and Sid, she definitely would have laughed at her friend.
Helga simply nodded, choosing not to elaborate, not until they asked the right questions.
Phoebe perked up at the mention of who exactly Stella was. "What were you doing with Arnold's mother?"
Helga shrugged. "Nothing really, she just gave me a volunteer job at her daycare. Nothing much other than that."
"Why is she helping you?"
And the game had shifted back to Sid, it was his turn to ask a question.
Helga shrugged once again, not really having an answer to Sid's question. "I dunno… I guess she pities me or something. She met me the night I burned down Bob's house."
Yet again, Helga dropped another piece of information for her friends.
They wanted the truth and that was what Helga was going to give them… even if it was in broken pieces.
"Really?" Sid looked surprised. "Where?"
"At Rosedale." Helga said, but then decided to elaborate even though she knew that both of them knew exactly Rosedale was. "The cemetery."
For a brief moment there was no questions, just an awkward silence shared amongst friends as everyone in the café went on in their own worlds, as they clinked their plates with their utensils and called out for their servers, and munched on their food.
And just like that the game of twenty or so questions was dropped as Sid and Phoebe were satisfied enough by their interrogation and Helga's minimalist answers.
Sid smiled as he remembered where Helga would be volunteering. "So working at a daycare, eh?"
Helga nodded.
"And here I thought you said that little children were demons."
The corners of Helga's lips tugged upwards, but just slightly though. "Oh, but they are, but I think I can tolerate them for a few months."
Phoebe smirked as she waved over their waitress to get her hot chocolate refilled. "So you say now, but I give you a week before they start to get to you. And two weeks before they actually drive you up a wall… and three weeks before you start contemplating murder."
The murderous look on Phoebe's face had all but disappeared.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the three friends settled into an easy conversation that lasted half an hour before they caught the murderous looks that their waitress was giving them, the longer they sat there, the more tips she lost out on.
They all smirked at Tracee, their waitress, as they continued to talk for another half an hour.
Once they were finally done talking, invisibly patching up the troubles in their friendship, they left and went their separate ways—Phoebe and Sid back to their respective houses, while Helga sat outside of the café waiting for Alfred to pick her up.
Nearly fifteen minutes later a black Bentley town car rolled up beside the sidewalk.
Smoothly, Alfred got out of the car and opened the back seat door in front of Helga, all the while still frowning.
"Do get in Miss Pataki, the longer you stay out in this ghastly weather, the more likely you are to get a cold."
Helga wanted to raise her eyebrow at Alfred's ghastly weather comment. Although there were still remnants of deep winter, the spring was nearing and the air was definitely starting to warm.
But Helga knew better than to say anything, instead she silently slipped into the town car right before Alfred closed the door behind her.
The ride to Arty's house on the other side of Hillwood was silent with Helga's only entertainment being the window that she stared out of as scenery passed by.
Once Alfred pulled up to Arty's house, Helga's foster home of sorts, Alfred rushed over to her door, very smoothly albeit, and opened it for her.
As Helga climbed out Alfred relayed a message to her, Arty was expecting her in her office as soon as she got back.
Helga thanked Alfred before walking into the house and wandering into Arty's office on the first floor.
The older blonde woman was deeply concentrated in her work, as her purple Armani glasses slipped down her nose as she looked through her documents, files, and manila folders that were taking up most of the space of her large desk.
Helga stood by the door, wondering if she should disturb Arty or go back to her room and talk to the other blonde later, but Arty quickly solved Helga's dilemma by signaling Helga to sit with a wave of a delicate hand.
Arty continued to look through her documents as Helga threw down her backpack onto the oriental carpet and tried to get comfortable in one of the two 'client' leather chairs that sat in front of Arty's desk.
It wasn't that the chair wasn't comfortable, in fact it was soft and firm enough for any person to settle in and doze off, but the situation itself for Helga wasn't comfortable.
Since Arty had stormed the hallways of Crinshaw High School yesterday Helga had not seen a blonde strand or expensively clad foot from the older woman.
According to what information Helga was able to get out of Alfred last night when the butler had served her dinner around the island in the kitchen, Arty had to go deal with a highly temperamental, highly important client who she was hired to help gain nearly millions dollars from the husband she was divorcing.
According to Alfred, this was not the first, second, third, or even fourth time that Arty was handling said client's multi-million dollar divorce.
After cleared up what ever she going through in her documents, she looked up and pushed her Armani glasses up her nose. "So how was your meeting with Mr. Garrison?"
Helga shrugged; it was her new thing nowadays. "Interesting to say the least."
Arty smirked at the understatement. "Yes well, Garrison has always been a hard person to get along with." Arty opened one of the wooden draws of her oak desk and filtered threw a few papers before she pulled out a business card and two pamphlets. She pushed them across the table to lie innocently in front of Helga. "I did a little research and poking around today when I had some free time."
Helga said nothing—she only stared at the papers in front of her.
Seeing that Helga was definitely not going to help along the conversation, Arty continued to talk. "You have an appointment with a nutritionist tomorrow and right afterwards you'll be seeing Bliss to begin your weekly appointments. You'll be starting boxing lessons after you finish your midterms next week… which you should probably start studying for… maybe call up your friends to help you… from what I hear your friend Phoebe is ranked as number one in your class with no competition."
Helga slowly reached for the documents that Arty had provided for her and placed them in her lap. "Thanks."
It was a rather weak 'thanks' to Helga's ears, but it was sincere.
Arty nodded to acknowledge Helga's 'thanks'. "The appointment is at nine-thirty, Alfie will drive you."
Helga nodded, even with only one day living in Arty's house, she was getting used to the general flow—Alfie, no make that Alfred the Butler was basically the chauffeur extraordinaire.
"Okay."
"Well then, you should probably head into the kitchen, Alfie made chicken pot pie for dinner tonight with cheesecake for dessert."
And that was Helga's dismissal.
Helga gave Arty another sincere, yet weak sounding 'thanks' and the blonde waved it off with a flick of her delicate, manicured hands as she went back to the papers, files, and manila folders littered across her large oak desk.
(Y/L)
Nope I still don't own Hey Arnold! But I do own YL. And anything you recognize and think is not mine, is probably more often than not, not mine. Oh wow, it's been another FOUR MONTHS since my last update. Sorry guys, college, homework, and college life is pretty distracting… but thank you Crystal949 for reviewing, the only that reviewed much to my chagrin (are you guys really that mad at me?). Crystal949 your review as actually what got me writing again, in fact chapters 27 and 28 are already basically writing themselves right now. They'll be up soon, I promise, promise.
PS:
To all of my readers, thanks for standing by patiently, once again. Oh and I do want to let everyone know that I will have a new story up on fictionpress soon. It will have some similarities with YL considering that YL actually borrows a good few ideas from the story, but it will have its differences, a lot in fact. Check for in a few days, if you're interested in seeing exactly where YL comes from. And please do excuse the rough edges around YL, if there are any mistakes, grammar, spelling, or anything else, please let me know. And if any of you know a really good editor out there interested in editing my stories, please let me know.
Next Chapter: And the Return of the Prodigal Son
S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.
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«·´¨·The Cipher ·´¨·»
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