The Pink Ribbon That He Untied
a Hey Arnold fanfic by Pyrex Shards
pre-read by Lord Malachite
A/N: I thank you all again for these wonderful reviews. As promised, here's an extra long chapter 5. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing this fanfic. This has a makeout scene in it. A base is reached. But there's nothing too graphic, this is rated T after all... Keep in mind they're in the ninth grade, meaning they're teenagers...
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Arnold looked out at the all too familiar landscape of Hillwood from his vantage point on the roof of Sunset Arms. All he could concentrate on visually was the overpass behind the boarding house, the noise from cars speeding by, and the street lamps on top with their light spilling out over the side. Fortunately those lights were obscured by the overpass itself, so that they didn't beam their horrible yellow light into his room, but they cast an ugly sodium glow over the buildings across the street.
Of course all he had to do was turn west, at the deep electric-blue sunset. The sun had already set below the horizon to herald the night. The sunset was no match for the almighty Hillwood Edison Electric Company of course, as hundreds of buildings and parking lots cast their own aura into the night sky.
But he could only note those little details about his surroundings in his mind. He had something else there that occupied him for what had been several hours shy of a week. He mentally replayed, over, and over again, his little encounters with Helga; his first real girlfriend. He smiled as he distinctly remembered climbing the chains of the swing he had been sitting on once when Stinky blurted out her name back in elementary school. In the fourth grade, actually.
If he had the power to go back in time and tell himself that day that Helga would eventually be his girlfriend, his fourth grade self probably would have jumped clean off the swing and taken off at a run, screaming into the night.
Come to think of it...
It seemed like all of his most profound memories of Helga, those not wrapped around that little preschool girl that still tugged at his heart, were rooted in the fourth grade. That was, in fact, the year that he spent an entire Thanksgiving with Helga. It turned out to be the most memorable Thanksgiving he would ever have. Even the little memories stemmed back to the fourth grade class at P.S. 118. Hatching a chicken egg, dressing up as Lila. She even managed to make his Valentines day very special, although he hadn't known it was her at the time.
All of this was punctuated by the summer after fourth grade when his neighborhood had been condemned to build a shopping mall. Arnold had foiled that plan with the help of two other people. One of them was Gerald Johannsen, whom Arnold was currently trying to figure out how to make understand his relationship with Helga.
And then there was Helga…
He had told his Grandfather to show Helga the way to the roof when she arrived. Every now and then he glanced at the door to the stairs. Of course, Arnold had no way of knowing that she had taken the fire escape up to his room, crawled through the window, and climbed up the recessed steps to the open skylight, right next to where he sat with his back against the glass. "Hey football head."
Arnold jumped up and turned around, catching his breath as Helga looked at him with a devious smile. He put a hand up to his chest. "Helga! You startled me."
She climbed to the roof. "That was the point, Arnoldo. Still... Sorry I startled you."
"You're not sorry." Arnold said as he sat back down.
"Okay, I'm not."
Helga walked around, then sat down beside him. Arnold couldn't help but notice she had no ribbon in her hair. It was waved over one eye, the way he liked it. After five years, the mysterious Cecile had made an appearance. Helga wore a sweater with pink and white stripes along with a pair of new looking deep-blue jeans. She looked great, and oh how much it reminded him of his first 'date' with her.
Helga noticed his stare. "Do I have something on my shirt?"
Arnold blushed and looked away. "I like your shirt."
"Thank you, Football Head. You don't look so bad yourself, in an, I-still-wear-blue-sweaters-with-a-kilt, sort of way." Helga poked him on the shoulder.
Arnold batted her finger away and rubbed his shoulder. "It's a shirt, not a kilt."
"You coulda fooled me, me laddy." Helga cocked her eyebrow, her voice a reasonable imitation of the neighborhood's resident Campfire Lass.
"Stop it."
"Sorry, Arnoldo, you make it way too easy."
"How did you get up here anyway? I told Grandpa to let you up to the roof through the stairs."
"I… Um.... I know about the fire escape and the window to your room. I've been up there before, remember?"
"Yeah, I do remember catching you with Phoebe, in the middle of the night. All you did was make an excuse and run away."
"So, what do you think I was doing up there?"
"Do I have to answer that?"
"No. You don't." Helga sighed and stood up. She turned around and looked down into Arnold's room. She put her weight lightly on the glass with one hand as she stared. Arnold thought it strange about her almost nostalgic look into his personal space. "Pork rinds make me sleepwalk."
"What?" Arnold asked, amused.
"I'm serious. I went through this phase in the fourth grade where I got hooked on pork rinds. Come to find out they made me sleepwalk. Every single time I'd end up on your fire escape."
"Um... Wow... What's with you and food?"
"Ha ha. You're sooo funny, bucko. Keep it up and you'll open for Seinfeld."
The mental image that Helga's jab pushed into Arnold's mind made him chuckle as he said, "That's pretty good."
Helga smiled down at him. "I don't know what I would have done if you had found out why I was up there."
Arnold stood up and looked at her, sensing an opening. "Why didn't you give me the chance?" He asked, his voice angled with curiosity.
"Why are we bringing this up right now, don't we have a movie to see?"
Arnold's face fell to match hers, but as soon as he looked into Helga's eyes, somehow, those twinkling blue eyes seemed to tell him that tonight was going to be unforgettable. His frown dissolved and his eyes softened. "We have a date tonight, right?"
"If not then I'm wasting valuable time when I could be at home watching WWE Smackdown." Helga smiled back at him.
Arnold turned around and shut the window to the skylight. He looked at Helga and gave her a stern look. "We're taking the stairs."
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After a few minutes of prodding, Arnold finally managed to get Helga down the stairs. He knew that it wouldn't be easy as soon as he saw Helga's reaction to his declaration about how they were going to get off of the roof. But he managed to make her see it his way. The boarders, and his grandparents, had no real experience with Helga to judge her in any way. Well, his grandmother called her Eleanor, but he reasoned she was just being her same old eccentric self. His grandfather would laugh whenever Arnold brought Helga up in conversation, then make fun of her eyebrow, but his comments always seemed to be in friendly jest. He reasoned Helga knew she wouldn't be judged, but he also knew that Helga's appearance with him inside of the boarding house would at least make his grandfather suspicious.
That was the kink in his plan to get Helga down the stairs. But he wanted Helga to trust him. He wanted to show her that he would hold on to her hand no matter what would happen, and this was a great way to prove that. If Grandpa Phil questioned Helga's appearance, then Arnold got the door for her because Phil was in the bathroom at the time. It was a simple enough excuse to be plausible, and they did have raspberries earlier, so it would work. Right?
As soon as Arnold reached the base of the stairs, with Helga in tow, clutching his hand for dear life, Arnold reached for the knob to the front door.
"Hiya Shortman!"
At the sound of Phil's voice, Helga tightened her hold of his hand. Arnold winced at the sudden crushing pressure and his grandfather's unmistakable voice. Any other time and Helga would be the one to toughen up. She'd assume that bully Helga and tell Phil off. But why not here? Why was she gripping his hand like a vice with a startled expression.
Phil took one look at Helga and guffawed. "Why if it isn't Helga Pataki. I could have sworn Shortman here told me to let you in! Now I wonder how you got in here all by yourself... Hmmm???"
Arnold started to reply but Helga cut him off. "It was…it was nothing. Arnold here let me in because you were in the bathroom. Right Arnold?" Helga nodded in Arnold's direction. He blinked at Helga then looked at his grandfather and nodded. Why was he sensing unspoken words between Phil and Helga?
Phil arched an eyebrow at Helga and crossed his arms. "You don't say. And when did I go to the water closet?"
Arnold studied his grandfather's face for a moment. His grandfather had one hell of a poker face. One could never tell if Steely Phil was being serious or not. It was only when Phil's wrinkled old face gave way to a soft smile and another laugh that Arnold could feel Helga's grip on his hand loosen. She looked upon the old coot with fascination. But also, like somehow she had a personal history with his grandfather, the way Phil looked at her with some kind of weird expression. Like he knew her game.
Arnold then realized he wasn't a party to this conversation. What was going on?
"Be sure to get Arnold home in one piece tonight, don't stay out too late, and stay away from raspberries." He winked at Helga, and she smiled back at him.
Phil looked at Arnold. "Arnold, please remind me that tomorrow we need to fix the bottom ladder on the fire escape. We don't want any unannounced intruders on that rickety old thing, now do we?"
Arnold smiled back and nodded. His grandfather had heard the fire escape rattle against the brick when Helga climbed the ladder. "Sure grandpa."
"What are you two standing around here for, shoo." He motioned them off with his hands. "Go! Have fun!"
They walked out as Phil shut the door behind them while saying "Ohh to be young again..."
Arnold turned to Helga as they walked down the steps and she let go of his hand. They were outside of course, no telling who could walk around a corner.
"What was that all about?" He asked Helga as he massaged away the lingering numbness in his hand.
"Some things will remain forever a mystery, Hair Boy." Helga smirked and walked passed him.
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Arnold had eaten dinner before the date, as had Helga. Only they hadn't eaten dinner together. Arnold had spaghetti, a salad with raspberries on top, and watermelon Jell-O for dessert. He had no idea what Helga ate for her own supper, only that for some reason she had told him rather adamantly that they would not be having dinner together. Wasn't dinner and a movie part of the entire dating package? Why just the movie? Wasn't some rule being violated?
Arnold contemplated that again and again to kill the time as he stood behind Helga in the line at the ticket counter. The other arrangements had been interesting. Helga informed him that she would buy the tickets, popcorn, and drinks. Arnold would pay nothing and stand approximately four feet behind her at any given time. There was another dating rule that somehow he felt he had violated. Wasn't the guy supposed to pay for both of them? Wasn't that the romantic thing to do?
Of course this already wasn't your standard, run-of-the-mill date. The guy was supposed to stand beside the girl in line at the ticket counter. Not behind her, with his hands in his pockets, looking around at the movie times and trying to figure out what movie the girl would pick out.
Oh, yeah, Helga would pick the movie...
"Two tickets for Dawn of the Dead, please."
Arnold looked up at the back of Helga's head in alarm. They were only fifteen. "Helga?"
Helga looked behind her. "Criminey Arnoldo, be quiet..."
"I'm sorry, but that movie is restricted seventeen and over." Said the kid behind the counter. He had an acute acne problem and a voice that sounded somewhat like a character from the Simpsons, stuck somewhere between adulthood and puberty, in perpetual limbo..
Arnold watched as Helga looked around, leaned in to the ticket counter, and whispered. She withdrew something from her pocket and then slid it under the window.
Then, at the blink of an eye, Helga had paid for the two tickets and they walked around the ticket booth to the theater entrance. Arnold still followed her, pacing out four feet as he had been instructed. He nearly collided with the door as Helga didn't hold it open for him. As soon as they entered the theater, Helga made a beeline for the concession counter.
"Hey Helga, wait up. How did you do that?"
Helga stopped then turned around. "Andrew Jackson signed a presidential document that lets us into R-rated movies in this establishment."
Arnold tilted his head slightly and arched an eyebrow. "What?"
"Criminey Arnoldo, listen closely." She looked around before leaning in to Arnold's ear. "I slipped him a Jackson."
Arnold smiled. "Oooohh."
Helga crossed her arms. "Billy and me go way back. Anyway. Let us make haste to the popcorn and Yahoo..."
Arnold nodded and followed Helga to the concession stand. He stood back as she bought their popcorn and drinks. This was going to be an interesting date after all.
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Arnold, being the romantic that he was, had always imagined that his first movie date would be some chick flick. Not one of the goriest zombie movies of the first decade of the twenty-first century that his girlfriend had paid nearly forty dollars, two Jacksons, to see. He smiled.
It became obvious when the movie started and the first zombies showed up, that the director and producer had some sort of unique hatred for the audience, and they were going to make the audience suffer.
By the time the main characters were on the roof of the mall playing a game of "spot the celebrity zombie" with a sniper rifle, Arnold was sure of two things. One, he would never listen to the song When The Man Comes Around by Johnny Cash, ever again. Two, when Helga gently rested her head on his shoulder, and he caught a glimpse of her content face, illuminated by the glow from the screen, he was aware that something felt uniquely right about all this other than the feeling of her soft hair brushing against his neck. That somehow he belonged in that theater with Helga and everything felt right.
As the plans of the characters in the movie started slipping through the cracks, and Helga had heckled at least one of the characters for being absolutely stupid, and dead, Arnold snaked his right arm around Helga's shoulders, and rested his head on hers. Helga snuggled herself closer to him, amidst the horrors that played out on the screen, then offered him some of her popcorn.
Perhaps this date was just unique. It still qualified as a date, Arnold reasoned. He was at a movie with his girlfriend in the dark. At that time he couldn't think of anywhere else he would rather be. He also couldn't help but wonder what Helga G. Pataki was doing to his mind?
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Arnold followed Helga into the dark void of her house. His girlfriend flipped on the entry way light then turned around and looked at him. "Well?"
He smirked and followed her in while closing the door. "I've been in here before, you know." He locked the deadbolt then turned back around. "Where are your folks?"
"Bob's in Dallas on a business trip and Miriam's... I don't make it my business to keep track of them."
"You mean, you're fifteen and you're home alone at ten in the evening?"
"Not everyone has a Disney family, Arnoldo. We're like, some version of that family in American Beauty, only more dysfunctional."
"I've never seen that movie."
"If you've ever seen the way the Patakis work, you're not missing much."
"Your parents aren't that evil."
"Need I remind you that Bob calls you 'Orphan Boy?"
Arnold looked down at the floor. That hurt. He knew it always would. He saw the tips of Helga's white sneakers as she took his chin in hand and tilted his head up. "Hey." She spoke to him in a soothing voice and caught his eyes with hers. "Don't. You never deserved that. I've never called you that and I don't intend to start. Okay. Bob's just a big heartless oaf. I can handle him. I know the real reason he's in Dallas so if he ever tries anything with you I can take his life apart piece by piece."
"How?"
Helga looked down and pressed her index fingers together. "Oh, I sort of, accidentally read an e-mail from his buddies down there in big, bad Texas. He's on a wild west gentleman's club tour. There's probably some hookers involved too. He's done it before, in fact he ditched me with Miriam once so he could go down there. I mean, Dallas?" Helga snorted. "Big Bob's Beepers and Phones only has shops in Hillwood and Amity Park. Why Dallas?"
"Doesn't it offend you that your father sees women like that?"
"Do you think that Miriam would put out for that real winner of the male species? Well, after they had me of course. I guess they were drunk at the time."
Arnold sighed and shook his head. He looked over at the staircase and suddenly decided that he wanted to sit down. "What about your mother?"
Helga walked to Arnold and sat down beside him. She rested her head against his shoulder. "Miriam is like a ghost around here. I don't see her much anymore. Honestly, I think she's sleeping around. Welcome to the Pataki household, Arnoldo, where my only hope is that I can survive until I'm old enough to get the hell out of here."
Arnold thought about what Helga had just said. He had little experience with a true nuclear family other than those that he saw around him or on television. He closed his eyes. The girl that rested her head on his shoulder had such a family. But the Pataki's were some twisted form of a family. One that was perpetually rotting and pulling itself apart.
Helga sat up straight and put a hand over his.
"What?" Arnold asked, puzzled at her abrupt change in posture.
"Do you want to see my room?" His girlfriend smiled.
"Can I see the shrine?" He smiled back.
Helga looked away, and shook her head. "No. Not tonight."
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The football-headed statue was made out of wicker. Arnold imagined that Helga had taken quite a few baskets apart and then put them back together again in what must have been hours of work. It was all quite remarkable. Yellow duster feathers stuck out of the top and were accented by a denim baseball cap. There were no eyes and no ears, only a nose made out of what looked like a tennis ball that Helga had spray painted dark brown. Arnold had assumed that it would look different; Like there would be pipe cleaners and wads of his used gum. But Helga wasn't that obsessed, he thought.
The shrine sat in an attic space above Helga's closet. The attic itself was bare save for the shrine. Perhaps Bob and Miriam just didn't think to use the small space to store anything. So their youngest daughter had used it to create an inner sanctum of sorts. The space was illuminated by a single light bulb that cast deep and haunting shadows over everything. Small green and yellow Christmas lights that surrounded the base of the statue mingled with the illuminated scenery, making an atmosphere that was altogether surreal.
The creepy factor was pretty high, Arnold had to admit to himself as he sat down in front of it, beside Helga, and looked at all the little trinkets strewn about on a white cloth-covered table. Among the artifacts were candid pictures of Arnold on class field trips, a vial containing a molar that the tooth fairy never got, a horribly creased but valuable Mickey Kayline baseball card, and newspaper clippings detailing Arnold's little triumphs at trying to bring happiness to others. It was an amazing assortment of stuff detailing an almost mystical representation of his life, and somehow it all made sense when he thought about Helga's confessions over the past week. At the same time, if seemed so sad, and it made the boy feel guilty for never seeing the signs, for letting Helga take back what she confessed to him on the rooftop of FTi.
The idea of a passionate but virulent girl having so much overwhelming love for Arnold that she literally built an altar and worshiped him as if he were Vishnu? Word's couldn't accurately describe why he smiled as he looked at Helga. "I didn't realize that anything like this could even be possible. Perhaps in a movie. But... You really do love me this much?" He asked, knowing that she probably wouldn't answer. He could never get her to explain anything to him about herself without hearing a parable or anecdote riddled with subtexts.
His girlfriend studied his eyes for a moment, then reached for the altar and grabbed the first thing she rested her hand on. "This stuff, this baby tooth," she clutched the vial in her hands, "that lock of hair, those newspaper clippings, all comforted me for the longest time, when I just couldn't admit anything to you."
"But, you don't need this stuff anymore do you?" Arnold plucked the vial out of her hands and sat it on the table. He then stood around the shrine while placing a hand on the wicker to confirm for himself that it was real and not an illusion. The teen turned and looked down at Helga from behind the shrine as she sat cross-legged. She smiled nervously at him, lost in the image before her, he surmised. "You have me here, right now. I'm standing here in the flesh. I'm not asking to be worshiped by you. I... Well... I do find it sort of flattering but... I'm not a god. I make mistakes."
Helga looked down at the table and shook her head. "If you could prove your tarnish to me then you'd only shine even more brilliantly in my eyes. I've spent years of my life on you, Arnold."
He walked around the shrine and got down on his knees in front of Helga. He gently cupped her cheeks with his hands so she couldn't look away. "Dismantle the shrine. Don't run away anymore." Arnold had Helga trapped in his green eyes as he gently brushed one of her cheeks with his thumb. "Don't be such a mystery, okay? I want to help you be that sweet little girl again. To be yourself."
Helga brought her hands up and grabbed his wrists, pulling his fingers from her face, and allowing her to avert her eyes from his. "I don't need your help." She closed her eyes.
"Helga..."
"No. Football head." Helga raised her emotion filled voice. "I don't need your help." She stood up abruptly and walked to the step ladder, then started descending the rungs to her closet. Arnold followed her down the ladder and into the center of her room where she stood facing away from him while hugging herself with her arms.
Arnold outstretched his hands towards her. "Tell me what to do."
"If all you want to do is help then stay away from me. I don't want to be your girlfriend anymore. I don't want this, this, whatever you think this relationship is!"
"No." He stood in front of Helga and looked her in the eyes. "That is something that I will not do. I'm not going to let you lie to me and claim that you don't want to be my girlfriend."
She pushed him on the chest. "You're full of it!"
Arnold stumbled back but continued to stand. He wouldn't walk away and let Helga deny it all again. The boy stepped up to Helga and looked at her unforgettable blue eyes. He grabbed the girl's upper arms. Instantly he had a sense of deja vu, like perhaps he'd once had a dream about something like this happening. He looked deep into her eyes, then let go of her left arm just long enough to brush Helga's blonde hair away from her face. He could see both of those amazingly innocent-looking, almost kitten-like orbs staring back at him, searching for his intentions.
He tried to form words in his mouth, but he couldn't when the sight of her face evoked images of that little girl in the rain, of Cecile looking across the table at Chez Paris, her eyes twinkling in the candle light. Helga's eyes moistened, her lips started quivering, and Arnold mashed his lips against hers.
Arnold closed his eyes. He had never let Helga kiss him in the way she wanted. When Helga tried to kiss him during that play, he held his lips tight against the pressure from hers. He had felt her tongue wedging itself against his teeth. The closest Helga got was on the roof of FTi, where for a brief moment she had managed to slide her tongue between his teeth because he had let his guard down.
But this time it was the boy kissing the girl, and he could taste her lips and teeth on his tongue. He could feel the warm air from her nose tickling the skin on his face as she cried into the kiss and opened her mouth to his. Her form went limp, so Arnold slid his arms beneath hers and held tight. He could feel the texture of her tongue as it collided with his. Helga tilted her face to deepen the kiss, and she danced her tongue around his as he did the same. Her tongue felt soft and warm, wet and passionate.
Helga was a few inches taller than Arnold and he could feel her knee caps pressing against his legs. She had lost the hugging arrangement so she had to put her arms over his shoulders. Her embrace felt gentle and tender. But Arnold felt concern at the way she hung her arms around his head, and he could feel her bones. Was she fragile? Would she break if he held on too tight? He had to make her comfortable.
Through the sensations that racked his brain; the taste of Helga's mouth, her tongue, her saliva, buttered popcorn, some kind of spice, that apple from his memory of their last kiss, and the feminine aroma of her skin, they dropped to the floor slowly. Arnold sat cross-legged with Helga in his lap, still kissing him, her arms around his head and his arms around her waist. She wrapped her legs around him and leaned back against her bed.
Arnold broke the kiss to catch his breath. The boy could feel bliss, like nothing else mattered at that point other than the two of them. It was a feeling almost like that day they shared in preschool. But it felt deeper now. He looked into his girlfriend's eyes as she searched his. For an infinitesimally small moment of time he had a fleeting memory of that little girl looking back at him. He had found her again, and only her.
He was feeling even more protective of Helga as she sat in his lap and he held her in his arms. But he had a newfound desire for her as well and he needed to kiss her again. He leaned in and kissed Helga's forehead, then trailed kisses down to her nose. He found his way across her cheekbone, then to an ear. Helga let out a slight gasp when he nibbled her ear, and the sound made him feel good all over. He moved down to her neck. Helga tilted her head to the side so he could get closer. The girl's neck felt so warm and alive that Arnold couldn't resist biting down against it lightly, like a vampire. She let out a breathy swoon when he did so.
After a few moments of tasting her neck, Arnold looked into Helga's eyes again and was met with a twinkle he had never seen before. She smiled at him and shook her head softly. "Don't stop." He leaned in and kissed her on the lips again, this time tilting his head at an angle so that their lips locked against each other.
The act of sliding down the side of the bed caused Helga's sweater to ride up on her back. Arnold moved his hands from behind the garment, and then lowered them to wrap around the exposed skin of her waist. Her skin felt smooth and warm against the palms of his hands. He explored Helga's back, tracing his fingers up the girl's spine as he continued to kiss her, causing her to breathe into his mouth a quiet moan.
Finally Arnold rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He let his frantic mind simmer against Helga's hot breath on his face as she breathed heavily through parted lips. He straightened up and looked at Helga when she shifted her entire weight in his lap and sat up from the bed. "What?"
"Shh. Wait." She whispered breathlessly and smiled at her boyfriend. Before Arnold could protest she silenced him with a finger, then grasped her shirt and lifted it over her head. The pleasant fragrance of her smooth skin and her warm sweater, Helga's own unique scent, flowed gently around his head as she shifted in his lap and flung the sweater against a wall. Arnold closed his eyes, blushed, and looked away.
"Open your eyes." Helga said softly, grasping his shoulders with her hands.
"Helga, I--"
"It's okay my love. Please look at me."
Arnold did as she commanded, looked at Helga, then opened his eyes. She smiled sweetly at him and glanced down, beckoning him to do the same. He could see her milky shoulders and delicate white bra straps. He looked lower and he could see the slight cleavage of her breasts, themselves mostly covered by a plain white bra with a simple pink ribbon in the middle that looked like her bow.
He could also see the blush in her skin as he continued to look further down between their loose embrace. Arnold saw where her ribs gave way to a flat stomach. Helga was thin of course, so this wasn't surprising. She didn't have much of an hourglass, but there were hips, and there was a feminine figure if he looked right. The boy noticed the way her abdomen met her jean-covered legs and hips as they scissored tightly around him. She didn't look unhealthy at all. In fact for all the bony angles, she felt soft and warm, if a bit muscular in places.
He leaned in and kissed her again, before moving down her neck and then to her right shoulder, then to her collarbone, and down to her breasts. He lingered on her bare cleavage, that he favored with only butterfly kisses before going lower, kissing her chest through her bra. He reached her stomach and scooted away from the bed, allowing Helga to lean back further. He lifted his girlfriend up from his lap as she arched her back with her palms on the floor, and he pressed his face into her skin. Arnold could feel his face becoming hot against skin, muscle, bone, and warmth.
He kissed Helga's bellybutton, then smiled and looked up. "You're an outie?"
Helga laughed, moving in his arms to sit in his lap again. "Yes Arnoldo. So kind of you to notice. Not that I gave you any chances to notice before, hair boy." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, and his nose, and pecked at his lips.
Arnold smiled back as he blushed, and he brushed his lips against her arms as she leaned back with her hands clasped around his neck. Then he looked down further and noticed a small scar on her abdomen. "What's this?" He let go of her with one arm and traced the scar with his finger. Helga let out a slight gasp at his touch.
"That's where I had my appendix removed." She breathed.
"You had an appendectomy? When?"
"In the summer of sixth grade."
"Does it hurt, when I..."
"No. It doesn't. It's old. I just don't have my appendix anymore. That's all. That actually feels good." She let out a breath. "Arnold, I, please.. I'm not, shallow. This isn't all that I think about, but... Please, tell me what you're thinking."
"I don't know. I guess, I..." Arnold shook his head and he moved his hands up and down her sides. "I'm sorry Helga, I'm so confused right now that I can't think straight. But, does it really matter what I think?" Arnold looked down at her bra covered breasts again, at their softness as they gently curved into her wonderfully awkward body. Did he want to tell her how hot he felt right now? How he wanted to kiss her all over and feel more of her skin? How the awkward girl had become hotter than Angelina Jolie and cuter than Audrey Hepburn? But he had to protect Helga from any harm. That included the guilt that he suddenly felt over the lust in his eyes. The primal desire for the same person whom he had confessed feeling confused about before. He shook his head. "I told you before that you have an inner beauty that rivals none other. What does it take to prove that to you?"
It was then that he looked up at her face and noticed her eyes. He saw tears just like the Friday of the dance when she had huddled against the wall. Was she a wounded dove, looking upon him to be merciful, like somehow he was the only one who could? There was that control again, that sticky subject in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became. Then he felt guilty again. Oh god, what did he just do to Helga? Did he just use her... But she liked it right? But he didn't love her, did he?
Helga moved to get up. "I'm sorry, Arnold."
The boy grabbed Helga's arms and pulled her close in an effort to dull his confused thoughts. He gave her a light kiss and then pulled her into a tender hug. "Could you read some of your poetry to me?"
She pulled away from his hug and looked at him in puzzlement.
"You promised that if I didn't mind that you wore ribbons in your hair, you'd let me hear some of your poetry."
"And?" Helga asked.
"I want to hear some of that poetry."
"Criminey! I was only kidding Football Head..."
Arnold gave Helga the neediest, most pathetic frown he could.
The girl looked at him in disbelief for a moment before shaking her head and closing her eyes. "Oh, alright. But only a few entries." She scowled and poked Arnold in the nose. "I read them, not you. You'd butcher them with your horrible English."
"Okay. That's fine with me."
Helga smirked at Arnold as he let go of her. She got up from the boy's lap and stepped around him. Arnold then stood up and sat on Helga's bed as he watched her at the bookshelf. He suddenly felt a desire to walk up behind her and embrace her while kissing the back of her neck.
Why was Helga such an attractive creature in this state? When she picked out the book and turned around, he could see a blush all over her skin as she brought the book over and sat down beside him.
"Okay. I have to warn you Arnoldo. This may scare you. This stuff is written about you after all."
Arnold smiled at her admission and gently moved his arms around her bare shoulders. "It's okay Helga. After the shrine, I'm ready for anything you can throw at me."
The girl looked at him, nodded, and opened the book. She flipped through the pages and found an entry to read. Arnold concentrated on her face as she looked down at the page, then he watched her lips as she spoke. "I remember this one. I had to write it down from memory. I lost the original. Okay. Here we go...."
Helga paused, and continued to pause as she looked at the page. She looked at Arnold, then at the page again. Finally, she sighed, and started reading. "Each morn, I see you bend to drink, From love's own crystal pool. I... Tremble near you, try to think. Will I forever say, 'you stink?.' Am I bound by this tragic rule.?"
Helga looked at Arnold, searching his face for his reaction. Arnold smiled at her and said, "you stink?" with a quiet laugh. He looked down. He didn't see Helga's face darken.
She looked down at the poetry book. "I wrote that while I thought about you drinking water out of a fountain." She said softly but with a serious edge. Arnold looked up and his smile faded. Had he done something wrong? He reached up to tilt her face towards his but she brought her hand up and batted his arm away.
"Get out of my room." She whispered.
"Helga?"
"Just get out. It was a mistake to read that poem." She shook her head. "How could you ever understand..."
"Helga I'm so, so sorry."
"What gives you the right to laugh at my heart?" She looked at him, her eyes were moist.
"What? I'm not laughing at your heart."
"These poems. They're my heart. On these pages. Every single one of them. I've dedicated these things to you." Helga pushed the book against Arnold's chest. It dropped to the bed between them and she turned away from him again. "And you think that they're funny."
"I didn't say that it was funny. I just thought that it was cute the way you wrote 'you stink' right there in the poem."
"Can you even imagine what I was trying to say in that poem. Are you that dense Arnoldo?!"
"I'm not dense."
"Yes you are. Just go. Leave." Helga stood up and paced around. She hugged her chest with her arms.
Arnold picked up the book sitting beside him and then stood. He approached Helga and stopped in front of her. Helga backed up against the bed and Arnold followed, but very loosely so that, he hoped, she'd know she could escape.. "I had a wonderful night Helga. I want to do this again." He leaned in to kiss Helga on the bare shoulder, but she fell from his lips and sat down on the bed, looking up at him.
"What part? The movie or where you come into my room, ravage me, and then slam my poetry?"
All the boy could do was look down at the book in his hands, at its well thumbed pages. He looked back up as Helga fell back on her bed with her legs dangling to the floor. She covered her eyes with one hand and her chest with the other. "Just get out." She whispered in between sobs.
Arnold turned to go, feeling as if he had literally hit a land mine after one entire beautiful week with Helga. Well, certain moments were beautiful. The rest were just so confusing. But he couldn't imagine, that the Helga he looked at right then, the one he got out of that shell that he saw every day in school, the girl who only teased him because she loved him, was so vulnerable that a minor tease about a cute little aspect of her poetry would tear her up so much. Was it shell shock from preschool? Was it a defense mechanism? Was there some way for him to pick her back up again? Was there some way to stay there with her through this and heal the hurt that he had so carelessly caused?
Perhaps, perhaps if he read one of Helga's poems to her? He opened the book and turned a few pages, then froze as he looked over the poem on the page in recognition. He remembered the book it was in. The little pink book that was in his care. She had written it down from memory like the other poem she had recited to him. Arnold thanked Helga inwardly for giving him a key as he walked to her bed and then sat down beside her.
He began to recite poem. "H is for the head I'd like to punt." He looked at Helga, she still had her hand over her face, but she was eerily quiet. "E is for every time I see the little runt." He continued reading. "L is longing for our, first, kiss. G is for how good that longing is. And A. is... for me." There was one last word, but Arnold reasoned he wouldn't say it as he looked down at Helga.
After a moment there was the sound of crying. The last thing Helga said before she broke out into sobs was. "Doi."
"Isn't this poem a little obsolete now? I mean, we've kissed. I'm your boyfriend now. Isn't that what you've wanted all this time. I mean, this poem only goes so far. What is going on between us? What did you mean when you told me about your strawberry allergy? Why do you continue to hide yourself from the rest of the world? I want to know Helga. I want to know because I'm starting to care about you a lot more now. And I'm frustrated."
Helga dropped her hand from her tear-stricken eyes and looked at Arnold. "Please. Arnold. You're confused. Just leave me alone. I just want to be alone."
"Helga... Don't shut me out." If Arnold wasn't aware of it before, he was then very much aware that his heart hurt like hell. In fact his heart felt like it was crawling up his throat. "Please?"
"Please leave."
Arnold stared at Helga with grief, sadness, and a newfound hole that he could feel growing in his heart. He wanted to take away her pain and add it to the searing pain in his own chest. He thought about how Helga kissed his chin. He knew that little scar on her abdomen was just a natural curse of the human body, but all the same, he leaned down, and he pressed his lips over the old wound. She didn't flinch, she didn't tell him to go away, she didn't push him, she just laid as still as her crying form would allow while Arnold let his lips rest over the scar. Then he stood up, placed the poetry book back in the bookshelf, and then departed Helga's room for what he hoped wouldn't be the last time.
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Author's Corner.
I hope everyone liked chapter 5. There was much to write in it and Memorial Day turned out to be a good day for writing. I spent the rest of the week hammering out the details and proofreading. I know I'm posting this Monday instead of Saturday, but I ran into some rather stupid logistical problems that were my own fault. Oh well, we learn from our mistakes.
I decided to let my good friend Lord Malachite do the beta reading after he heartlessly dissected chapter 4 for me over an AIM chat. Heartless as in snickering at me over voice chat kinda stuff and saying things like "what the hell man?" But it worked wonders. Glaring typos be gone! I thank him in for his efforts, and I should note I owe him a glass of Macallan single-malt scotch when I next see him in real life.
I can't thank everyone enough for their wonderful reviews. They've all been an inspiration, even the single line ones. They mean so much to me and I can't thank you guys enough. This fan community so totally rocks! That doesn't mean I'm lightening up on "yall," so please continue to review. As always I will personally reply to each and everyone of them, barring severe cases where I get hit by a pie truck. That of course shouldn't happen since I don't live near major pie truck routes.