Helga stood next to the band room door Wednesday morning, nervously drumming her fingers. It was 7:55, the bell to go to class would ring in five minutes, and still the band kids weren't back from practice yet. Not that she had intended to have her heart-to-heart with Arnold right then and there anyway, but now it was looking less and less likely that she'd even get a chance to see him before school started.
What's worse, the more time she had to wait to see Arnold, the more her foolish hopes kept climbing. It was bad enough that she had actually done a load—half a load, more like it—of laundry in order to have her short, ruffled, pink plaid skirt clean to wear—the one Arnold had said that he liked. She had actually tried to dress somewhat normally that day, wearing the skirt with simply a lavender hoodie as a top… but she was too much in her rut of making her outfits striking to stop there. On her left leg she wore a dark brown and red argyle knee-high sock, while on her right foot she wore a small, frilly white sock that only went to her ankle. To make up the difference, around her right knee she had tied a pink polka-dotted handkerchief. And, again, she wore her hiking boots. The good, reliable hiking boots that clashed and thus fit with any outfit she wore.
Yes, so it wasn't the traditional "today-I-confess-my-love" outfit, but she was who she was, after all! Besides, she already knew that Arnold liked at least one part of her getup that day. And perhaps he, in his good and kind heart, had forgiven Helga. Perhaps he still wanted to date her. Perhaps—
No, no, no! She'd been over this before. Why would she purposely subject her beloved Arnold to a screw-up, good-for-nothing loser like herself? There had to be countless girls in this school who loved him, and who showed that love in other ways than throwing algebra books at him. That was the kind of girl he needed, he deserved. Not someone like her.
"You want to what?"
"Gosh, Gerald, I just said I wanted to hold his hand. It's not like that's ever so inappropriate or anything."
"Inappropriate, no. Disgusting as all get out, yes."
"Oh, hello, Helga!" Lila said with delight, seeing Helga leaning against the wall. "What a surprise to see you here!"
"Surprise? What surprise?" Helga asked defensively. "I go wherever I want to go, what's surprising about that?"
"You've got a lot of nerve showing up here," Gerald growled.
"Gerald," Lila warned.
"Arnold told me what you did to him," Gerald continued, ignoring Lila. "And now you're going to throw salt in his wounds?"
"Arnold told you?" Helga asked, still on the defensive but also now genuinely surprised.
"I'm his best friend! Why wouldn't he tell me? Although I just found out that there were some things I wasn't privy to…" He crossed his arms and gave Helga a demanding stare. "Were you really in love with him?"
"Shut up!" Helga screeched, lunging for him.
Lila jumped between them, somehow holding them back from maiming each other despite her small, slender frame. "Gerald, I wish you wouldn't goad Helga so. And while I too am ever so disappointed in Helga after what she did to Arnold on Monday, I'm sure she has a very good reason for being here."
"Damn straight I do!" Helga said. "I'm going to apologize to him, because believe it or not I'm 'ever so' disappointed in myself, too! And—wait, he told you too? That little blabbermouth!"
"This might be a tough concept for you to grasp, Helga," said Gerald, still irritated, "but we're his friends, and when we could tell that something was bothering him we wouldn't let him slide by with an answer of 'nothing'! And if you actually showed your cowardly face at school yesterday, you would have seen for yourself just how upset and miserable he was! Because of you!"
"Miserable?" Helga asked softly, her eyes growing wide.
"You did really hurt his feelings, Helga," said Lila diplomatically. "He really does like you, ever so much."
"God help him," Gerald muttered.
"Oh shit," Helga whispered helplessly. "Now I must apologize, although what can I possibly say to make amends for how cruelly I have treated such a forgiving, caring soul? And…" Her voice trailed off as she realized both Gerald and Lila were staring at her. "…And would you two get LOST?!"
"Get lost?" repeated Gerald, offended. "Listen, sister, we're his friends and we always meet him here before—"
The bell rang.
"Criminy, where is he?" Helga cried furiously.
Answering her question, the outside doors flung open and the marching band kids half ran, half stumbled into the building, making a beeline for the band room.
"Well, so much for talking to him," Gerald sighed, turning to leave.
"Wait," Lila said, grabbing his arm.
Arnold was one of the last in the building. "Arnold!" Helga shouted.
He stared at her in surprise. "Helga?"
Helga could hardly find the breath to speak. "Can I talk to you after school? In the tutoring room? It's important."
His gaze at her was soft, forgiving, not at all condemning, and she felt her heart positively glow. "Sure," he said gently.
"I… I'll make it all better," Helga whispered.
Arnold drew in his breath in shock.
And in a flash, she was headed down the opposite hallway.
Gerald raised an eyebrow. "Well, pardon my French, but ho-ly shit."
Lila just smiled. "Don't just stand there, Arnold. You're going to be late for class if you don't get your cymbals put away."
For Arnold was standing frozen in the hallway, staring open-mouthed down the hallway where Helga had disappeared.
…………
Throughout the day, Helga had become more and more of a nervous wreck, so that by the time school ended and she, slowly and trembling, made her way to the tutoring room, she felt like she was going to throw up. Wouldn't that just be great, she thought to herself. I can see it now—"Arnold, I'm in love with you—BLEEEGGGHH!" She shuddered. Well, even if she did blow chunks all over him, who cared? They weren't going to be together either way, so hell, why not? Why not turn him off from her completely?
What am I doing? I practically have him in the palm of my hand and I'm going to toss him away! She stood up straighter, pushing open the door. No, it's for the best. I need to release him from me so that he can have that wonderful, amazing life he deserves. I'd only drag him down.
She sat down at the table, finding herself, amazingly, actually smiling in amusement, the song "I Will Always Love You" suddenly jumping into her brain. Maybe I can just sing him that. Then he'll get the message.
This would probably be the last time she'd ever really talk to him, she realized with a crushing blow. Fighting back tears, she sat up straighter in her chair, rehearsing what she would say to him—if this was going to be the last thing she ever said to him, she wanted to get it right.
Arnold, I'm sorry for yelling at you on Monday. I wasn't really angry at you, I was more scared—scared of my feelings for you. Because yes, Arnold, I finally realized it and admitted it—I love you. I always have. Burning you did nothing, and it never could. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you, but… well, you know how I am. Sometimes I just explode without thinking. What I did and said to you has made me almost literally sick, and I don't want to put you through that again. That's why I have to leave you. You'll be happier without me, and I want you to be happy. That's all I ask. You deserve someone far better than me, and I know you'll find her in no time. I love you, I always have, I always will, but I've finally realized that we can never be together. I'll be alright without you. I've managed this long; I can manage the rest of my life. I wish you all the happiness in the world, my love… farewell…
She gulped down the tears threatening to form in her eyes. There, that would work. Surely he'd understand her after that speech and leave her. And it should put to rest any lingering feelings he happened to have for her.
I finally get him to like me in a more-than-friends way and I LEAVE HIM!
Oh God. What if he insisted on sticking it out? That was something Arnold would do, too. Say something like "you're not bad for me, you won't ruin me, I want to be with you"? Helga felt herself melting into her chair. That generous hand, extending out to her even when all hope seemed to be lost, putting his heart and soul on the line to help the unfortunate? Oh, you angel, how quickly she'd take that hand, stroke it, caress it, caress every inch of his body and never, ever let go—
"Fuck, no, I can't!" Helga screeched, slapping herself in the face. "Even if he wants me… even if I want him—and holy shit do I want him—our relationship would just end up in tatters. I don't want to hurt him. I'm not going to hurt him anymore."
But just TELLING him that is going to hurt him.
Helga curled up helplessly. "Fuck," she said again, weakly. "Oh, Arnold, I can't… not hurt you. Fuck. That's the one thing I want to avoid. But fuck it, no matter what I do…" She sat up again. "But you'll get over it. And this is better than how much I'd eventually hurt you in the long run. This is the only way."
She looked towards the door. She hadn't exactly been prompt in getting there, and yet Arnold still wasn't there yet.
"Come in when my composure's sound, football head," she muttered, "don't wait until it crumbles again like I know it will…"
She sat staring at the door, nervously drumming her fingers, her thoughts repeating themselves over and over, for a good five minutes.
He's not coming.
"He's coming. He just… got held up or something. He's defending some poor, helpless person, or helping someone who fell down the stairs, or something. He'll be here."
So WHAT what he's doing. It doesn't matter why he's not coming. The point is, he's not coming.
Helga's shoulders trembled.
This isn't meant to happen. You and your stupid belief that maybe he'll want you back. That's not meant to be. Can't you see that? What's the bother in even talking to him anymore? What does it matter that you're sorry? What does it matter that you love him? The bottom line is, you can never have him. So don't even try, loser.
"Fuck," she whispered.
Couldn't even argue with that logic.
She stormed out of the room, angry, heartbroken, crushed, to find Phoebe and her friend Jenny conversing in the hallway outside the tutoring room. Seeing Helga, Phoebe's expression immediately became concerned. "Helga? What's wrong?"
"Nothing! Everything! Just—never mind!" Helga cried frantically, shoving her way past them and out the door.
Jenny, who only knew of Helga and didn't actually know her, said to Phoebe in confusion, "Do you know her?"
"She's my friend… she was my best friend in elementary school." Phoebe looked towards the door worriedly. "Usually when she's in moods like this it's best to let her brood, but I think something's really bothering her today… I hope she'll be alright."
"Maybe she realized that her socks don't match."
Phoebe gave Jenny a stern look.
"It was just a joke," said Jenny apologetically.
"I think I know what the real reason is… and it's not socks," Phoebe said softly.
Running footsteps interrupted them, and they both turned to see Arnold running down the hallway… with a black eye.
"Arnold! What happened to you?" Phoebe asked.
"There was a fight—I tried to break it up, but got pounded instead—just got out of the nurse's office—" And with those breathless explanations, Arnold quickly opened the door to the tutoring room and looked in… and found it empty.
"She left, Arnold," said Phoebe sadly.
Arnold turned around in surprise. "She left?"
"Just now. Maybe you can still catch her."
"And I know where she's going," said Arnold quickly, running out the same door Helga had left from.
"Wow. What was that all about?" Jenny asked.
Phoebe just smiled. "The start of something fantastic, I hope."
…………
Was some twist of fate trying to prevent them from talking to each other?
Arnold still couldn't be entirely sure what it was Helga wanted to talk to him about, but he had a fairly good idea… especially after her "I'll make it all better" remark. Lila might turn out to be right after all. But it seemed that he might have blown his chance. His attempt to stop the two juniors from fighting in the hallways had only landed him in the nurse's office with a black eye, and put him even more behind schedule than he had been before.
But wait, he thought to himself, running out the door and in a westerly direction, towards the Trotskys' house. Helga couldn't be too far ahead of him, and once he caught up to her and explained why he had been held up—and the black eye was proof of that—he'd be able to figure out what she wanted to tell him. Something important. Something that may or may not be admitting feelings for him. …Again, with Helga, it was impossible to know for sure until she out and said so. But still… "I'll make it all better"…
As it turned out, she wasn't very far ahead of him at all. "Helga, wait!" he yelled.
Helga snapped around and stared at him, her eyes betraying both her anger and her heartbreak. "Leave me alone, Arnold! I never want to see you again!" She started power-walking even faster away from him.
"I'm sorry I was late!" Arnold said, running to catch up with her. "But there were these two guys fighting in the hallway and I tried to stop them…"
Helga abruptly slowed down, staring at Arnold's face piteously. "Oh my God… your eye…" But then she suddenly shook her head, as if pushing herself away from some thought. "I don't care why you were late. It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk to you, football head! Now get away from me!" She literally started running this time.
Arnold braced himself, kicking into overdrive—he was shorter than she was, after all, and had shorter legs, and catching up to her now would be a challenge. "I don't think so, Helga!" he said, somehow quickly closing the distance between them. "You said you wanted to talk to me and I'm not going to leave you alone until I find out what it is!"
"Get away, you creep! It doesn't matter anymore!"
"Not this time!" Arnold, finally catching up to her on the overpass over Parkinson's Creek, grabbed her by the wrists… and accidentally dug his nails into her skin.
"Ouch!" Helga screeched.
Arnold immediately let go of her. "Sorry. Oh jeez… I'm sorry."
Helga pushed his hands away. "Just… just go away, Arnold. I meant it when I said I never wanted to see you again, you… you prick. Now—"
Arnold interrupted her by grabbing her wrists again, taking care this time to not dig his nails in them. "I said not this time! You wanted to tell me something, and I'm not going to let you run away from me again!"
"Let go of me, dammit!"
"Not until you tell me what you wanted to tell me!"
"I was going to tell you that you're a grade-A idiot of a football-headed moron, you bastard! Now let me go!"
"Helga! Tell me the truth! I don't care what the truth is, and I won't get mad at you whatever it is… even if it's something… well, you know. Just stop lying to me!"
"I'm not lying! I hate your fucking guts! And if you don't let go of me I swear I'll smear those guts on the pavement!" She struggled against his grip.
"I'm not going to let you do this."
"Bastard! Let me go!"
And, through the struggle, Arnold heard the clatter of something hitting the pavement beneath him.
It took him a moment to register… but luckily, it took Helga a moment to register too. But soon her angry glare changed to a look of nervous horror, and Arnold, overtaken by some outside force, moved quickly (although it felt like slow-motion to him) and snatched up the small object that had fallen out of the pocket of Helga's hoodie before she could get to it first.
It was a heart-shaped locket with his sixth grade picture in it.
"Yeah, I'm sure you had nothing important to tell me!" he said, more harshly than he had intended.
"FUCK YOU! Give that back RIGHT NOW!" Helga shrieked, lunging towards him.
Arnold quickly held the locket over the water of the muddy creek below. "I'll drop it if you come any nearer!" he cried quickly.
Helga froze. "You… you… I'll pry it out of your hands anyway!" she spat out decisively, but still didn't make a move.
"I'll drop it," Arnold repeated. "In fact, maybe I'll just drop it anyway. I mean, if you really are completely over me like you say you are, what use do you have for this anymore?" He loosened his grip ever so slightly on the locket, and it slid an inch lower in his hand.
"NO!" shrieked Helga.
Arnold's grip tightened. "Now tell me the truth! What did you want to tell me… and why are you carrying around my sixth grade picture?" Especially considering that's not at all my best picture, Arnold found himself thinking. If you wanted a more recent one I'd be more than happy to…
"You… you don't know what you're doing!" Helga cried, her voice angry but her eyes wide as if on the verge of tears.
Arnold felt his glare soften too. "Helga… look, I'm sorry. I really don't want to do this. But I want you to tell me the truth. Whatever it is, don't be afraid to tell me. I'm not going to yell at you, or make fun of you, or run away from you… please, Helga, just tell me the truth."
Helga turned her head away from Arnold, looking down at the water and breathing heavily. Arnold waited.
She looked back at him.
"The truth… the truth is that, okay, so I lied to you. I didn't destroy everything I had of you. I kept that stupid locket, because some idiotic part of me wouldn't let me destroy it. And that part of me… was… was so happily dormant for these past three years, but then you had to show up and bring her back out, and… and I hated that! I—I—I don't want you, and I don't want that part of me to overtake me. So… so like I said, I never, ever want to see you again, because… I really can't stand being around you. I hate you and what you do to me. That's what I was going to tell you. And… and I was going to give you that locket anyway, because I sure as hell don't need it anymore."
She looked down at her feet. "So go ahead… drop it in the creek for all I care. Do whatever you want with it. I just don't care."
Arnold looked at the locket, his glare completely gone, and then back at Helga, still staring forlornly at the ground.
He turned over her right hand and placed the locket in it.
"Arnold?" Helga asked, looking back up at him, his name coming out as a squeak. "What are you—"
"I don't want it either, Helga… it's your locket. Besides, I said I'd give it back if you told me the truth."
Helga stared incredulously at him, then at the locket, then back at him… and Arnold felt something, he didn't know what, go off inside of him with shock when he saw that there were tears in her eyes. "Oh… oh… dammit, Arnold!" she choked out.
And suddenly she was kissing him.
His body was frigid and turning to putty at the same time, their right hands still clasped around the locket and her left hand cupping his face. And while this was one of the several hundred possibilities he had imagined as what it was she wanted to say, there was still shock shooting through his veins, shock and something else… this warmth filling him, as he realized that while he had wanted the truth from her, the truth was that he had been hoping that this was the truth.
She pulled her lips away from his for a moment. "How's that for the truth?" she murmured.
"…More what I was expecting," Arnold admitted.
"Dammit, Arnold," she said again, kissing him once more. "I mean…" Another kiss. "We shouldn't be…" Another kiss. "We can't do this." Another kiss.
"Why not?" Arnold asked quickly during a moment when his lips happened to be free… although those gaps between kisses still felt too long. Without thinking he brought his free left hand to Helga's waist.
"Because… ooooohhhh hoooooooly shiiiiiiiit…"
"…what? What's wrong?"
"Nothing… you're touching me…" Helga's face had completely melted into a lovesick gaze.
"Sorry…" Arnold withdrew his hand.
"No… don't be…"
He placed his hand back on her waist, and her face melted even more, if that was possible.
"So," Arnold said softly, looking up into her soft with emotion eyes, "are you going to tell me the truth now?"
"Oh… oh shit, Arnold, I shouldn't have…" Helga recoiled a bit, but not enough to get away from Arnold's hand on her side, or even letting go of his hand or bringing her left hand away from his face. "This wasn't how this was supposed to… okay, the truth. The truth is… the truth is… I'm sorry." She sniffled back tears. "I was a grade-A bitch to you Monday, and…"
"It's okay." Arnold stroked her side instinctively.
"Oh God, you angel!" Helga moaned. "I mean—dammit Arnold, stop doing this to me! I'm sorry. That's what I was going to say. I'm a terrible person and scared of my own emotions and I took it out on you, not wanting to admit to myself that… that I love you. I never stopped loving you. I know I lied to you but I lied to myself too, and I only just now realized it…"
She leaned down and kissed him again, and Arnold closed his eyes and sighed against her, letting himself bask in, bar-none, the best kisser he'd ever experienced, and… oh God was that her TONGUE?
"Wait!" Helga quickly pulled away again, slapping herself with her left hand. "And the other thing I was going to tell is I that I can't have you. I shouldn't. Shit. You deserve someone way better and more stable than me. This wasn't supposed to go this way." She kissed his jaw line. "Shit! There I go again! I can't… stop…" She kissed the corner of his mouth. "Oh God, my love, I have to get away from you before I completely ruin your life…" She kissed his cheek. "I'm used to loving you from afar. I can spend the rest of my life doing that, especially knowing that you'll be happy with someone else." Another kiss on the lips. "And what I really should be doing right now is being a jerk to you to make it easier for you to get on with your life and forget me…" Another kiss. "But I just can't stop…" Another kiss. "Dammit, I burned you out of my life, but even the flames of a bonfire could never destroy my love for you!" Another kiss. "Wait, criminy, what am I doing?" She finally pulled away from him, although it looked like this took a great effort out of her, and let go of his hand, keeping hold of the locket defensively. "Look, we can't do this. I can't keep doing this and… make it worse. We can't be together, and I can't keep giving you—giving me—these stupid false hopes. Fuck! Don't look at me and make me want to kiss you again! I should have completely killed you and burned you and everything about you when I had the chance! But you're still here and alive and amazing and I adore you and… and fuck you!"
There was a moment of silence.
"That's the weirdest thing you've ever said to me," Arnold finally said. "And you've said a lot of weird things to me."
Helga scowled at him. "After all that, is that all you have to say?"
"No, actually, I have a lot to say… I just couldn't really get a word in edgewise."
"Wonder why that was," an elderly man who was sitting on a bench and had witnessed it all remarked sarcastically.
"Hey, pal!" Helga spat out, sticking up her index finger. "You see this? Ignore it." She added her middle finger to the mix.
"Helga!" Arnold chided.
"Either let the poor kid talk, or get a room, for Pete's sake," the man said. "You think I wanna watch this?"
"You can always move, genius!" Helga snapped. "That's been building up inside of me for twelve years now, and I'm not going to just turn it off because you're too lazy to get up and move!"
"Twelve years? Wait, how old are you?"
"Fifteen!"
"Land sakes. I guess I will get going then. You mean business."
"That's not necessary, sir," Arnold said quickly. "We don't have to stay here."
"You're right," said Helga quickly. "In fact, I need to go and baby-sit Stan, you know, so… see ya, Arnold." She tried to turn to leave.
"Nuh-uh," said Arnold, grabbing Helga's hand. "Can you please let me talk now?"
"Can't. I'm already late. Owen will roast my ass as it is." Helga made a slight move as if she was trying to make herself leave, but still remained where she was.
"I'll walk with you then and talk to you while we walk there," said Arnold. "Because don't think you're going to do what you just did to me and not let me get to say my side of things."
"There's nothing more for either of us to say," said Helga quickly, starting to walk towards the Trotskys' house again. However, Arnold was doing a good job of keeping up with her, holding her hand again.
"Helga, come on. You just kissed me more times that I can count and basically told me you've passionately loved me for the past twelve years—and we're only fifteen, so that's a pretty good portion of your life. Am I right?" The corner of his mouth tugged up into a smile.
"Yes… yes…" Helga gazed at him lovingly, her voice coming out as an airy whisper. But just as soon as the moment appeared, it vanished—she angrily shook her head and broke herself out of it, snapping, "So? You got a problem with that?"
"No, but—"
"Well, good, because… wait. You don't have a problem with that?" Helga asked incredulously.
"Not with that, but I do have a problem with some of the other things you said, and that's why I need to talk to you. So will you let me?" He looked up at her earnestly, hoping that however he looked at that moment was enough to get her tender side to want to do him a favor. It felt a little bit like taking advantage of her feelings… but he wasn't going to think about that right now. Anyway, it seemed like no matter what he did he ended up taking advantage of her feelings, whether he meant to—or even realized it—or not.
He knew right away that whatever face he had made at her had worked, because her gaze immediately went back to the soft, dreamy one (the one that, truthfully, made his stomach flutter a bit). "Of… of course…"
Arnold took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to begin. When saying anything, especially something of great importance, he liked to have as much time as possible to rehearse it and make sure he got it right before saying it… but Helga's emotions were too urgent to put off until later. "You said that we couldn't be together because I deserve someone better than you, right?"
Helga nodded dumbly.
"Well," said Arnold with a shrug, "that I do have a problem with, for two reasons. One, you should really let me decide for myself who I 'deserve' to be with, and—"
"But can't you see that—"
Arnold let go of Helga's hand and brought his hand to her mouth, silencing her. "I'm not done yet," he said gently.
Helga continued to just give him an utterly stupefied, enamored gaze.
"And two," Arnold continued, "you're… you're giving me too much credit and you not enough, I guess. You make it sound like I'm degrading myself to date someone who's flawed, but that's not the case. I'm flawed too, just like everyone else. And, yes, that does include you. But you're also just… this really talented, intelligent, caring person, and I don't think you realize that."
"Oh, Arnold, your compassion and praise is like fire to my cold and lonely heart!" Helga cried passionately.
Arnold stared at her, speechless.
"Uh, sorry about that," Helga said sheepishly. "Just a word of warning, though… you'll probably hear stuff like that from me a lot. But anyway…" She sighed, half sadly, half in confusion. "You honestly just called me caring? Only a kind, pure heart like yours could even pretend something like that. You know how cruel I can be! You more than anyone else! I refuse to let you go on believing such false things about me, and… Arnold, darling, your eye," she choked out, touching his blackened eye gently. "It pains me to see you so bruised! I swear, whoever did this to you, I'll rip out his left lung and—and—but not before nursing you back to health, of course—"
"You see?" laughed Arnold. "You've just proven my point! Yes, I know how mean you can be, but you can be just as loving and gentle, too."
"It's called being volatile, Arnold," moaned Helga, pressing her hands to her cheeks hopelessly as she quickened her pace. "And it's not normally a desired trait in a potential significant other. Don't you see? I don't want to put you through my mood swings anymore, alright? The things I can do to you when I'm really angry—what I have done—they literally make me sick. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, let alone you. I love you too much to make that even the tiniest possibility, understand? I… I just want you to be happy, my love."
"But I'm happy when I'm with you," said Arnold gently. "I asked you out two days ago, remember? And it wasn't as a joke."
"That was two days ago," murmured Helga. "And then I yelled at you and threw a book at you."
"You've done worse," shrugged Arnold.
"I've—done—WORSE?!" Helga looked positively thunderstruck. "Oh, my dearest beloved, you truly are an angel on earth! Your endlessly forgiving soul cannot have sprung from the same mess of a system that produced the rest of this miserable planet! There are no words even a tenth as powerful as my love for you!"
Arnold just stared again. "…Wow."
"Oh, criminy!" Helga cried, slapping herself in the face. "Sorry about that."
"Helga—"
He took her face in his hands and gazed up at her, questioningly and wondrously, causing Helga's thunderstruck look to intensify a thousand percent.
"Why didn't you tell me you felt this way about me sooner?" he asked her softly.
"I… I did, you idiot," Helga whispered, leaning in close to him, her eyes nearly closed. "I did after we did Romeo and Juliet. I did on the top of the FTI building."
"But after Romeo and Juliet you said it was only how you'd write a romance," Arnold whispered back, also leaning in so that their lips were nearly touching. "And after the FTI building you took it back."
"I… didn't want… to get hurt. I didn't want to hurt… you."
"Whatever happens… I promise I won't hurt you. And I won't let you hurt me."
"Oh, Arnold…"
They were literally a fraction of an inch away from kissing when Arnold drew back. "Helga, wait," he said quickly. She opened her eyes, surprised, upset, disappointed.
"There is one thing you should know," Arnold continued. "We are… unbalanced. What I mean to say is that… well, I don't feel for you like you feel for me."
"Of course not… I'd be worried for you if you did," said Helga.
"That came out wrong," said Arnold quickly. "What I mean is… look… I just… don't know how I feel about you. I really don't know if… if I love you or not. It's not as bad as it sounds, I mean, even though I can't say for sure that I love you, I can't say for sure that I don't love you either…" He sighed. "What I can say for sure is that… I like you. I like you a lot, even when you're being difficult. And I want to spend time with you… and even if you want to spend that time with me yelling at me… or kissing me, or going off on poetic tangents, or throwing things at me… I can take anything you can dish out, I guess is what I'm trying to say. I like you for who you are, and I want to spend time with you… no matter what side of you that is."
Inwardly he kicked himself—that was so awkward, so lame, especially compared to the amazingly strange and strangely amazing things she was telling him, and despite how much Helga was going on about how wondrous he was and how crummy she was, he suddenly felt like she was the greater of the two of them. How could she have such an ease and such a way with words?
Helga gazed upward towards the sky and sighed with pure bliss.
Well, okay… so she apparently hadn't found it lame.
And then, to his surprise, in a small, soft, happy voice, she started to sing.
"Is it in his eyes… oh no, you'll be deceived… is it in his eyes… oh no, he'll make believe… if you wanna know, if he loves you so, it's in his kiss… that's where it is…"
She looked back down at him. Their eyes remained locked on each other for a few seconds.
And then she suddenly snorted impatiently. "Kiss me, you idiot!"
"Uh… kiss you?" Arnold repeated awkwardly.
"You say you don't know how you feel about me… well, maybe if you kiss me, you'll get a better idea! So come on! Kiss me! If you don't, I will—and you know I will!"
"Alright," said Arnold softly.
"Alright?" Helga repeated in a tiny voice. Apparently she hadn't been expecting Arnold to actually take her up on her offer.
"Yeah," Arnold whispered, bringing his hands back to the sides of her face, stroking her cheeks with his index fingers. Partly it was a stalling method, because—despite a decent amount of practice in the area—he wasn't exactly the best kisser in the world. Especially not compared to her. It had also been awhile since he had… oh, hell, worrying wasn't going to make it easier. Gently, he brought her face down to his level and touched her lips to his.
And then, he tried to concentrate on what he was feeling.
But what he was feeling was her. He felt her freeze at first and then suddenly melt, not taking over the kiss but seemingly let it take over her. Her lips felt warm, her arms around his body felt comforting, she felt… right. He couldn't think of another word for it. She felt right.
His lips parted from hers but their faces were still close, and as they both opened their eyes and Helga's loving, enraptured ones met his, it was as if they were scrambling his brain so that he couldn't think straight.
It's just a rush. You can't say you're in love after a kiss like that. You have to think about it. You don't just suddenly realize something like that after just one kiss. Even though it's actually been about twenty…
"I still don't know," Arnold admitted, their lips still millimeters away.
"I don't care," breathed Helga with a blissful smile.
Arnold let go of her face and held her hand again, starting to walk back towards the Trotskys'. Despite all that was happening, he really didn't want to make Owen late again, or get him angry at Helga. "If we're going to date," he said slowly, "I just want to make sure that you'll let me have a life outside of you, too. I have other friends, and family, and I can't suddenly drop everything and make my whole life revolve around you."
"Of course," murmured Helga, although not in such a lovesick way that she wouldn't have been even processing what he was saying. "I mean, I have my own life too. Of course, I can certainly make room for you…"
"But without dropping anything. That goes for both of us."
"Right. And I just want to… apologize in advance if I get crazily obsessive or anything. Or if I'm constantly a bitch to you. I don't want to be, but sometimes I don't know how to be anyone else."
"It's fine. I'm not sure if I could get used to you if you suddenly became another person, anyway. Oh, and… uh, I'm not sure how to say this… but… um… please don't… pressure me into… deciding if I love you or not, okay? These things take time to figure out… at least for me…"
"Arnold, dear, I've been waiting for twelve years. I'm obviously pretty patient about this sort of thing." She smirked at him. "Although if it's been another twelve years and you still haven't figured it out, I'm giving up. You have until you're twenty-seven, bucko. If you still can't decide by then, you're outta luck."
"I'll keep that in mind," smiled Arnold.
They had made it to the Trotskys' house, with Owen standing in the front doorway, scowling at them. "Jesus, Helga!" Owen snapped. "Ever since you met that football-headed guy, you've showed up late pretty much every day! I don't want him here anymore. I don't care if you have to get tutored. Your grade will be fine without him. Now get the hell off of my property, Archie or whatever your name is."
"Don't you dare talk to him like that," Helga growled.
"No, Helga, it's alright, I should be getting home," said Arnold quickly. "I've got a lot to think about… and maybe I could find you a more recent picture of me, too." He winked.
Helga sighed in contentment again. "That would be heavenly…"
"Well, come on!" Owen snapped. "Get out of here!"
"I'll see you tomorrow," said Arnold softly.
"Yeah… see you tomorrow, Arnold," murmured Helga, letting go of his hand and turning towards the house.
But then, as if on a second thought, she suddenly turned around, pulled him towards her, and kissed him.
"Holy mother of…" Owen said in shock.
Helga pulled away after a few seconds. "I love you," she whispered.
Arnold almost said "I love you too", although luckily he stopped himself—that would have just been from watching too many romance movies and knowing how they went, not because that was necessarily what he felt. He didn't want to lie to her, even though… even though he wasn't one hundred percent sure it was a lie. But instead he caught himself, just staring stupefied at her for a minute or two, then his stare mellowing into a smile.
Helga climbed up the steps to the front door, where Owen was still half staring, half glaring at Arnold as he walked away. "I thought you two said you weren't dating!" he finally said.
"We weren't, up until a few minutes ago," murmured Helga, watching Arnold leave with love in her eyes.
"What does he see in you, anyway?" Owen muttered, descending the stairs and heading for his car without another word to Helga.
"I have no idea," Helga admitted.
Soon Arnold was out of sight and Owen had driven away.
Still standing in the doorway, Helga reached into her pocket and pulled out her locket with Arnold's old picture inside.
"But whatever it is… I sure hope I don't mess it up."