5. Pursuit Of Happiness

I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know,
everything that shine ain't always gonna be gold.
I'll be fine once I get it, I'll be good.

Their relationship status had admittedly not changed much in their normal routine. The main differences were subtle, virtually unnoticeable to someone that wasn't looking for it. They held hands as they walked to school. They walked together in the halls just a little closer than before. They ate lunch together, but more often than not, rather than sitting with the usual crew, they sat outside under the trees and the sun.

Helga was still exposing herself in revealing, punk-style clothing. Phoebe could not bring herself to say anything about it for several reasons. The first, was obviously selfish: it was hot, and Helga was her girlfriend. The second: she didn't want to sound like Arnold and suppress her freedom to dress however she pleased. The third: it suited Helga. And the only reason which compelled Phoebe to wish Helga would wear clothes of a less skimpy nature, was the fact that it was incredibly distracting.

Phoebe found herself thankful for their differing schedules, for the mere fact that during History she was enamored. Lost in fantasy. Probably, it would be unnerve a lot of people to imagine innocent Phoebe Heyerdahl, class obsessive-compulsive genius, having the libido of a teenage boy. But Phoebe managed to keep her composure for the most part, straining to remain the face of neutrality.

Helga could see Phoebe's struggle, and so she made it worse every seventh period. Naturally. And the only way Phoebe ever forgave her for it, was that they afterwards, since seventh was the last period of the day, they would usually end up back at Helga's house, making out in her room. It was a win-win for Helga, really.

The week that followed Helga and Phoebe getting together were sailed along rather smoothly. But all along, Phoebe had the inkling of worry in the back of her mind. She could not, obviously, shake the issue of Arnold. Nor could she continue to lie to her mother for much longer. Anything was bound to erupt, considering that's how secrets usually ended up—the truth spews at the most inconvenient of times.

So, Phoebe did what any girl would in her situation. She decided to hang out with Gerald. Gerald Johanssen is her anchor, and the only guy that ever actually managed to calm Phoebe, rather than make her nervous. The connection to Arnold was not lost on Phoebe—she knew she would have to tread around subjects, but at the same time, Gerald wasn't really one to pry, either.

X X X X

Her knock was soft. It then turned into a rapping. And soon Phoebe was tempted to start pounding on the door. However, this was unnecessary. Gerald finally came to the door.

"Hey, baby girl, how are ya?" He asked, trying to appear suave in some ridiculous way.

"Gerald," Phoebe quirked her eyebrow. "Jamie is around, isn't he? At least tell me Timberly is with her parents, out somewhere."

"Yeah, yeah, of course Pheebs. They'll be gone all day. We wouldn't light up if she was around. That's just wrong."

"You do realize that smoking is illegal, and therefore it's wrong in general."

"All because of the damn government!" He lead her into his living room. The house did not reek, but being in an enclosed space with Gerald, she could smell the marijuana.

"The legalization of hemp destroying the paper industry, capitalism and corporate greed, et cetera, et cetera," She listed, almost sounding bored.

The first time Phoebe had encountered Gerald stoned, he began to debate her about every subject ranging from politics to science. It was strange, but Gerald was much more thoughtful while under the influence. Phoebe also knew that he only ever smoked while his brother was at home, in some weird way of hoping to gain the acceptance of his elder sibling. The need to impress Jamie, in whatever convoluted way, was a part of Gerald. Phoebe's father had emphasized the significance of familial ties since she was young, so, Phoebe went with it.

She did not judge Gerald for smoking, and rather, found herself enjoying the weirdly intellectually-stimulating conversation. The only issue was that Gerald would constantly remind Phoebe why marijuana should be legal, even if Phoebe never truly argued back.

"Yeah," Gerald smiled widely, and sat back on the couch. He offered her potato chips from a bowl, which she gladly accepted. "So, Pheebs. What did you wanna do? Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Video games."

"Whatever you want, Gerald, so long as we can talk," Phoebe said, already getting up to turn on the Xbox. It was the least she could do, considering his current state of mind.

Starting up a typical first-shooter game, Phoebe could not help but wonder how boys found such games amusing for so long. The controls were straightforward, the dynamics of the game relatively repetitive, and the graphics gave Phoebe a bit of a motion headache, if she was being honest. But it was an activity to do mindlessly with Gerald through conversation.

"So, how've you been? You chill?" Gerald grunted as he attempted to block Phoebe's onslaught of bullets.

"Rather well, thank you. I...well..." Phoebe was unsure how to approach the delicate subject of Helga.

"Pheebs, spit it out—woah! Where did you come from?" A series of shots sounds from the high-definition television set.

"I have been curious. I know you didn't really want to talk about him," Phoebe chuckled in triumph at yet another kill. "But uh, how is Arnold doing? I mean, he's my friend, too, but we hardly see each other."

Gerald took his sweet time to pause the game, and turn from his seat on the couch to face the other girl. Phoebe put her own controller on the coffee table, and tucked a stray hair behind her left ear. The silence continued for almost a minute; Gerald vaguely lost in stoned thought, Phoebe merely anticipating his analysis. They were used to the comfortable silences, though, even without the cushioning of drugs. It was just Phoebe and Gerald, and a lot of the time, that was enough for them.

Phoebe recalls being in middle school, eagerly diving into a relationship with Gerald which ultimately put a strain on their friendship. Yeah, they had chemistry and once had real romantic inclinations toward one another—but as a couple, it was hard for them to know where boundaries stood. Where Phoebe wanted go on singular dates, Gerald wanted to be out partying and socializing; where Phoebe was more ready to explore physically, the thought made Gerald sweat; where Phoebe breathed education, Gerald strolled through school with a laxness that left other students in envy. And when they amicably broke up, their friendship was only heightened.

It made Phoebe feel special that she could have someone as "street smart" as Gerald for a (male) best friend, and in turn Gerald was grateful to have a girl to protect and hangout with—no strings or expectations attached. The lack of pressure was probably why their friendship had never lapsed in the years they had known one another.

Gerald let out a sigh.

"Arnold really screwed up, Pheebs. Not gonna lie." At this, Phoebe's curiosity grew tenfold.

"Really? Isn't usually Helga making the mistakes—and poor Arnold suffering them?" Her words came out more bitter than she meant.

"...Woah." Gerald's eyes suddenly grew wider, and Phoebe could see the redness in them. She could also practically see the wheels of his mind turning at an indescribable and unusual rate.

"I thought it was something I was imagining. But, Phoebe. And don't take this the wrong way, 'cause I'm a brother first and I don't judge." He gave her a wink. "But you really like Helga, don't you?"

At this Phoebe, felt her neck warm. She kept her expression neutral, but simply her hesitation may have given it away.

"Of course, Gerald. She's my best friend. Hello, we've been all been friends since preschool." Gerald's grin only grew wider at this statement.

"So, how long has it been?"

"I recount: since preschool," Phoebe chided patiently. "And if you do the math that's—"

"Woah, you've had the hots for her since preschool? And it's not until now that you've considered making a move?"

"Wait," She was absolutely red. "What are you referring to, Gerald? Please clarify."

Giving her a knowing smirk, Gerald tilted his head back and laughed loudly. Phoebe knew what he was referring to at this point, but she decided to continue to play in the dark and remain silent.

"You're in love with a certain blonde woman. Scary demeanor. Intense poet. Newly punk. Your best friend," Gerald listed off these facts as if they were the weather forecast. His nonchalance actually helped Phoebe feel more natural about the entire situation. He was always doing that for her.

Phoebe acquiesced that Gerald knew of her affection; though it scared her that someone other than Helga knew, it also felt as if a burden had been lifted from her chest. Immediately, Phoebe felt lighter, elated even. The breath she was not aware the she had been holding was released, and Phoebe was no longer half as anxious.

A/N: I have no idea where I'm going with this story, hence the time it took to update. Sorry!