You've been left hanging long enough. Here is more Warriors. And, just in case you were wondering, I still hate typing.
Pumpkin.
While the issue of how Arnold had managed to fall from the third story balcony had yet to be resolved, his blonde companion still (not all too) begrudgingly helped him back to his feet. He was now sprawled out across her back as Helga toted him back to the main deck, where adults and therefore medical supplies could be found.
"You're insane, you know that?" She muttered as she squeezed past some erroneous cargo cluttering the thin walkways at the back of the ship.
"Yeah, and you're the picture of mental health," the boy laughed back. The taller blonde scowled.
"I never claimed to be sane, doofus. I labelled myself a basket case long ago." Though seemingly joking, her words carried malice, a self-loathing quality that Arnold simply couldn't comprehend.
"Since when has being sane been considered a good quality?" He mumbled as he snuggled his head into her hair. It smelled like soap; how quaint.
"Criminy football head, when was the last time you saw the definition of the word 'sane'?" Helga spat, "Hell, do you realize what our society does to those who are deemed 'abnormal'? I'd expect you to considering…" she fell quiet. They both knew where the conversation was headed and neither wanted to think about what would happen soon. "Nevermind."
They fell into an awkward silence, the suffocating kind that forced you to stammer out something- anything- just so you'll be able to breathe again.
"I heard some kids from other grades snuck onto the ship," Arnold tried, casting his eyes towards the ground as he waited for a response of some kind.
Helga merely tweaked an eyebrow; that was news to her, but then considering how little she spoke to people she wasn't exactly expecting to be "in the know".
"Apparently Harold helped sneak Patty in," the blonde boy continued, trying to force the flow of the conversation along, "and Wolfgang and Ludwig with some of their friends… just a whole bunch of extra people made it onto the ship. Some of them Rhonda even invited herself behind Mr. Simmons' back." However the lanky girl remained stoic, if not still slightly irritated. Sighing in defeat, Arnold finally let them fall back into silence,
The congregation of people was just ahead of them now and Helga knew this would be her last chance to say something to the boy for a while. Turning her head back to look at him she left him with a simple yet overwhelmingly confusing statement.
"You're an idiot, Arnold."
So very blunt, as always.
All the blonde boy could do was gape in response as his kinda-sorta-friend turned the corner and carried him into the social focal point.
"This doofus injured himself," the girl announced loudly drawing all attention to them, "help him." In no way was that a request; it was a command. Peers quickly gather around Arnold, closing him in and cutting him off from Helga.
Normally a sudden epiphany of love would result in hectic and life changing drama, and, in a way, Arnold's did, just a different brand of life changing. This definitely changed lives.
A storm was brewing.
Arnold blankly stared up at the grey clouds above him from his deck chair. Having been showered earlier with ice packs and concern, the boy was now feeling better. However his inner turmoil hadn't yet been resolved.
He was in love with Helga.
Helga, the blonde delinquent preteen, the overlord of the playground and underground leader of the grade, was his crush.
Lightning danced across the dark clouds as Arnold felt his cheeks flush. He should-
A sudden crash shook the boat violently, tossing Arnold off his deck chair. His body ached but the boy was suddenly compelled to his feet at the sound of a scream.
It was Helga.
For the first time he noticed the rough waves beating the boat around and the wild winds ruffling his hair. How was this possible? It'd simply been cloudy moments ago, where'd this storm come from? There wasn't even any rain.
The blonde clumsily sprinted towards the sound of Helga's scream.
She was back on top of the shed in the back, however it seemed so much taller than it had earlier that day. Helga was dangling over the edge of the boat, the terror in her icy blue eyes making her seem so vulnerable, so feminine.
The blonde was actually a damsel in distress, a state he rarely saw her in. This was Arnold's chance to be her hero.
Adrenaline shot through his veins as he vaulted himself onto the storage house. Despite fearing for her life, he had a huge grin spread across his face. He was going to save her, the blonde thought as he pushed against the winds, crawling towards the ledge she was dangling from. He was going to prove-
Right as he reached the edge, just as he was able to see her fearfully looking up at him as though frozen in time, Helga's fingers slipped.
Arnold watched in horror as she plummeted towards the ocean, her arm catching on the railing of the boat and her whole body rebounding, flailing and limp, splashing down into the torrid waters below.
Suddenly the rain hit Arnold hard, soaking through his clothes and overrunning his tears.
Gasping, Arnold sat up in his deck chair, soaked to the bone by the chilly rain now pouring down from above. The yacht was rocking back and forth calmly.
Was it all a dream? Arnold sighed in relief and rubbed at his eyes.
"Arnold, man, sorry I left you out here. I didn't realize it'd start raining," called Gerald's voice from just inside the boat.
Picking himself up, the blonde trudged inside, water running off him in torrents; "yeah thanks Gerald," he muttered bitterly, trying to wring out his shirt. His right arm throbbed in pain at its exertion causing Arnold to wince.
Lightning flashed brightly above and moments later a parade of booming thunder started shoving the boat roughly, knocking the boys off their feet. Arnold shook violently as he was reminded of his nightmare.
"Come on, man," the African-American boy said, helping his friend up, "lets get you back to our room so you can warm up. You're shivering like Frozen Lizzy!" The shorter boy managed a dry laugh, remembering the urban legend of poor Lizzy. Looking down, he swallowed nervously.
'I hope Helga is okay.'