Disclaimer: Hey Arnold (tragically) is not in my possession. I can only claim this story about them.
A/N: Here's chapter 3! Hope you enjoy! Apologies if you don't!
A month and a half later...
"Helga you have to tell him." a voice told her over the line as soon as she picked up the phone.
"Huh? Phoebe?" Helga asked confused.
"Yes Helga it's me and you have to tell him."
"I have no idea what you are talking about Pheebs. Tell who what?"
"Tell Arnold about the letter."
There was silence on the other end of the line.
"Phoebe are you INSANE!! I can't tell Arnold it was me who wrote him those letters! How do you know that I wrote then anyway?!"
"Gerald just called me hysterical, talking about some creepy letters that Arnold had been receiving. He said that he didn't tell me up until now because Arnold hadn't wanted anyone else to know, but you know how Gerald is when it comes to keeping secrets."
Helga nodded her head in agreement even though she knew Phoebe couldn't see.
"And I'm a little hurt Helga that you couldn't trust me with this information. We're best friends Helga." Phoebe said disappointed. Helga could hear the hurt in her voice.
"Pheebs it isn't like that, I wasn't trying to keep it from you. Heck I don't even know what I was trying to do. I mean i don't plan on telling him so what am I going to do just keep writing letters to him for the rest of my life?"
Phoebe heard Helga groan deeply.
"Maybe you should just finally tell Arnold how you really feel. You've been keeping these feelings inside of you for a long time Helga. I honestly do not think that Arnold will reject you. He cares a great deal more about you than both of you realize."
Helga sat up. "Do you know something I don't?" Of course she did but she wasn't about to tell Helga that.
"All I'm saying is that the both of you need to open your eyes a little wider and have a nice long talk." Phoebe said softly.
"I just...I just can't do it Pheebs. At least not right now. Maybe a sign will hit me and show me when, but just...not now. Okay?"
"Alright Helga I won't push anymore tonight. In fact why don't we go get some ice cream and then go over the homework."
"Sounds great Pheebs. Be there in two." Helga ended the call.
"911, what is your emergency?" The operator on the phone asked.
"GERALD! Give me the phone!" Arnold yelled.
"Yes, I would like to report a serious problem concerning my best friend-"
"GERALD! HANG UP!" Arnold interrupted and the operator could hear shuffling on the other line.
"Uh...yes Ms.- stop it Arnold- I would like to- move Arnold- report a stalker harassing my best- OW!-" then the line went dead.
"ARNOLD! Why did you that?! This is serious! This is the fourth time that that PSYCHO has written you one of these passionately PSYCHOTIC love letters!" Gerald exclaimed waving the most recent letter, about Arnold's hands, in the air. "And am I the only one who realizes that she has been making a slow but steady pace up your body?....MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!" Gerald cried dramatically.
"GERALD!" Arnold had to shout for the third time. "Get a hold of yourself! You're NOT helping! Wait a minute how did you know it was a she?"
"Puh-leeze Arnold, anyone with half a brain would know that it was a she. No guy could write like that unless he was a lover of fruit if you get what I'm saying."
"Gerald just because I guy is sensitive enough to write passionately does not make him fruity." Arnold reasoned. Gerald stared at him.
"Are you hearing yourself?"
"I'm sensitive, does that make me fruity?" Arnold asked with a sigh.
"Arnold your sensitivity comes from the fact that you are a large walking heart of gold, there's a difference." Arnold just shook his head.
"I don't know what to do Gerald, I really need your help on this."
"Give me the phone I'll dial 9-1-1 and ask for all the help you can get."
"Gerald be serious." Arnold groaned.
"My man do you see this face. I am serious."
Arnold flopped back on is bed, staring at the ceiling in silence. He felt Gerald sit beside him.
"Look Arnold, we don't know who we're dealing with. The person sounds harmless but they know way too much about you and yet you don't know anything about them. That's not a good thing. Knowing you, I know you just think that the person is a lonely tortured soul in need of a friend, cause that's just how you are, but what if they're not Arnold." Gerald inquired.
"Your not the only one who is freaked out about this Gerald. This person sorta scares me too. I mean, how would you feel if someone were writing about parts of your anatomy and paralleling them to the things you do everyday....IN GREAT DETAIL."
"Ah, but I know you Arnold and I know that deep down inside as creeped out as you are you are still going to choose to believe that there is good in everyone."
Arnold silently turned his face back to the ceiling. Gerald stood up.
"I'm going to go my man I know you want to think about this. I'll be back later." With that, he and Arnold did there secret shake and Gerald was out the door. Arnold resumed his position and lay back on his bed. He didn't know how long and lay there thinking before he finally got up and went to sit at his desk.
He grabbed the other letters and sat down looking over them. He had been getting letters from this person for two months now and he was no closer to finding out who it was than when it had first started. The only things he knew about this anonymous Broken was that they wrote him every two weeks, loved to and they were a girl....of course Gerald had helped him to the conclusion on the last one.
It was getting ridiculous! Broken had sent him TWO more letters over the next month and a half. One letter was dedicated to his arms the other had been solely on his hands, and each letter had gone embarrassingly and deeply intimately into discussion about these parts of his body and how he performed the different tasks with them. But reading the letters over again, Arnold began to see something different. The writer had given him some insight into her life.
In each of her letters she talk a lot about how depressing and lonely her home life was. How the people she lived with never seem to notice that she was there. They constantly neglected her and she was always overshadowed by an older girl that lived with them.
Arnold paused. Where had he heard this before. This story sound a lot like another person's story that he knew. There was something very familiar about these letters. Too familiar. Could it be....Nah. They had outgrown those feelings a long time ago....Hadn't they? It was just the heat of the moment they had agreed. Helga was caught off guard and just blurted out everything and he was just feeling sympathetic toward her. There had been nothing going on. Nothing had changed that night....right? Arnold shook his head yet again to clear his thoughts. He was not going to go down that road again.
Wait! A brilliant thought had just hit him. Why didn't he think of it before? There was another way to get to the bottom of this and he knew just who to turn to.
Helga punched her locker a third time.
"Criminey you stupid thing! Open!" she banged on it a fourth time. Helga scanned the hallway and spotted Stinky with an arm full of books. "Hey Stinky! Get over here and open my locker!"
"But, uh, Helga I'm kinda busy-" Stinky motioned with his head to the rather large stank of books he was trying to manage.
"Now!" Helga demanded.
"Coming!" Stinky made to drop the books and rush to Helga before Arnold stopped him.
"It's okay Stinky, I got it." Arnold patted his arm.
"Gee thanks Arnold, that's real kind of ya." The gratitude was all over his face.
Arnold walked over to Helga's locker hooked his fingers under the bottom and with a flick of his wrist popped open the locker.
"Thanks Foot-ball head." Helga told him gratefully before placing her books in her locker.
"Your welcome Helga but I also have a favor to ask of you."
"Yeah, okay, what is it?" she asked. Then Arnold drew out a familiar folded piece of paper and handed it to Helga. Helga unfolded the piece of paper and froze.
"It's a letter. I was hoping you could help me find out who it is." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly when she finally looked up at him. If she wasn't frozen before she was stone cold now. This wasn't funny. Why was life screwing with her again?
"What's wrong Helga? Your growing pale." Arnold put a hand on her shoulder concerned for his friend.
"I..uh....I can't help you Foot-ball head. I'm sorry." Her voice sounded forced and tight.
"Wha-" Arnold was surprised by her rejection. "Why not?"
"Because I just CAN'T!" she yelled at him. But Arnold was not deterred. He grabbed her hands tenderly and looked deeply into her eyes.
"Helga please! I need you." He softly begged. Neither one of them had heard Phoebe and Gerald come up behind them.
"Uh, Helga? Can I talk to you a minute in the ladies room please?" Phoebe asked as she took Helga's hand and rushed to the bathroom. She knew Helga need a breather and time to clear her head. Helga had never been so grateful as to have Phoebe for a best friend in her life.
"SCRAM!" Helga screeched when they reached the bathroom so that they could talk in private. Toilets were flushed immediatly and hands were washed quickly and then Helga and Phoebe were left alone. Helga slouched against the wall.
"So what are you going to do?" Phoebe put her hand on her friend's arm for she was trembling.
"Pheebs," she said in a shaky voice. "I have no idea."
A/N: Thank you so much to all who reviewed! Hope you enjoyed!