Chapter 5

Lunch

"Oh, look at the time!" Mr. Simmons exclaimed, just as Helga shut her book. "Okay, class, you can go to your 'special' lunch."

"Alright! Lunch! I'm starved!" Harold shouted, as he bolted out the door. The rest of the class followed.

Helga got to the cafeteria and was about to go sit down, when she spotted Arnold. She quickly hid behind a cart, packed with dirty dishes.

"Oh, Arnold! Amidst the shadows of my heart, I adore you. I long for the day I can once again kiss your divine lips and at last be content in my troubled soul. I dread the day I finally confess my love to you, yet I long for it with all my heart. Oh, Arnold, I love y- Lila!" she exclaimed, as she watched Arnold walk over to Lila's table. "What's he doing with Phony Little Miss Perfect?"

"H-hey, Lila," Arnold said, as he stood next to the table where she was eating.

"Oh, hello, Arnold! Whatever are you doing here?"

"Well, um…I was kind of wondering…I mean, if you wanted to…would you, um…go to the movies with me on Saturday?"

"Well, Arnold, I would, only…well, that seems a little too much like a date," Lila said sweetly.

"Well…that's kind of what it's supposed to be."

"Arnold, I know that you like me like me but, oh, do I really have to say this again, I don't like you like you, I just like you." She smiled at him as if she had just accepted instead of refused. "I'm ever so sorry, Arnold, but I hope we can still be friends."

"Yeah, I guess," Arnold sighed unhappily, as she walked away.

"Li-la," Helga quietly taunted from behind the cart, "that evil little goody-goody two shoes! How dare she be so cruel to Arnold! She doesn't like him like him, but she still wants to be friends? That's harsh. Why doesn't she just go up to him and say, 'Oh, Arnold, by the way, I was just using you the whole time so you could shower me with attention that I never would have received otherwise because I'm a stupid little country girl with no life and a phony personality!' I mean, what does he even see in her? Just because she's nice and smart and pretty and popular, he's got this big, stupid, la dee da crush on her! I mean sure, I'm not that pretty, and I'm not popular, and I don't go around acting all nice and sweet, but that still doesn't excuse the fact that I'm the one! The one and only one who will ever truly love Arnold!" She sighed as she leaned against the cart.

Just then, she heard a loud, rasping, breathing sound from behind her. "I wonder…" she thought, as she raised her fist. Unfortunately, this was no dream; this was Brainy, popping up once again, right when she was in the middle of obsessing about Arnold. Her fist smashed into his face, and he crumpled to the floor.

"Doesn't he ever learn?" she muttered, as she stood up and walked to a table.

"Hey, Pheebs."

"Hello, Helga! Um, Helga, I was wondering…do you mind if I go sit at another table today?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, Phoebe, just go desert me why don't you!"

"Oh, no, Helga, it's not like that, it's just…well…Gerald invited me to sit with him today so-"

"Oh, criminy, Phoebe! What on earth would you want to sit with Tall Hair Boy for?" Helga asked in mock amusement.

"Well…" Phoebe said, gazing across the room at the African- American boy with a humungous stack of hair, "I guess it's because I kind of like him. If you know what I mean."

"Phoebe, you're a mystery. Oh, whatever, go sit with lover boy. I don't mind."

"Oh, thanks, Helga!" Phoebe cried, as she scurried away.

"What she sees in Geraldo is almost as puzzling as what Arnold sees in Little Miss Perfect," Helga said under her breath. "Almost…but not quite."

"Hey, Helga, is this seat taken?"

"Arnold?! I mean, no, why?"

"Well, Gerald kind of kicked me off our table. He said he wanted to sit with Phoebe."

"Welcome to the club. Grab a seat."

"Thanks." Arnold sat down in the seat next to her. "Uh oh."

"What?"

"Raspberries," he said, opening his lunchbox.

"Raspberries?"

"Grandpa says I should never eat them. I don't know why, but I really don't want to find out."

"Trade ya."

"What have you got?"

"A straw, a packet of instant oatmeal, and a tube of toothpaste."

"Why don't we just use the vending machine?"

"I've got a better idea. Hey, Harold!" Helga called.

"Awe, what do you want, Madam Fortress Mommy?" the boy shouted back at her.

"Want to trade lunches?"

"Got anything good?"

"I've got a stick of peppermint, a packet of sugar, a tube of icing, and candy fruit," she lied.

"Well, that isn't much…I'll trade you a Mr. Fudgy Bar for it."

"Whatever, Pink Boy, just give me some food!"

"Fine, fine, Madam Fortress Mommy!"

"What's that even mean?" Helga asked.

"Uh…you're confusing me!"

"Moron. Hey, football head, what do you think you're doing? I got that for me, not you!" she exclaimed, watching him take a bite of the candy bar.

"Hey, I traded my lunch for that too, so I'm entitled to exactly half of it."

"Fine, but so am I."

"I already bit off it, but you can have it if you want."

"You're disgusting. And cruel."

"Alright, fine, if you don't want it," Arnold replied.

"Gimme that!" she said, shoving it in her mouth, all the while thinking, "Oh, my gosh, my lips are touching his! Well, in a manner of speaking."