"Grandpa?" Arnold walked into the kitchen to see him filling out the Sunday crossword. He stood still, jaw clenched, and grimly prepared for his fate.
"Why the long face, Arnold? Got another one of your tricky teenage dilemmas?" Phil had a shifty look about him, almost like he knew what Arnold was going to say.
"Grandpa, do you ever… hear music in your head when you look at Grandma?"
Phil blinked at the directness of this question. "Well, sure... Sometimes I think about our first date—you already know that story—that's why we like Dino so much!"
"I know, but… it's not stuck in your head all the time is it? Dino's songs?"
"Of course not!" Phil scoffed, albeit good-naturedly. "Dino's a living legend, mind you, but there's only so many times you can play your favorite song before you have to listen to something else." Phil sipped his coffee and crossed off a word. "Otherwise, it'll drive you loony!"
"Oh… okay." Arnold sighed. His shoulders slumped in defeat. So he was crazy.
"What's eating you, Shortman?"
"Don't make fun of me, okay?" This was spoken in accordance with ritual; Arnold didn't really have a hope for it to be fruitful.
"Now, why on earth would I make fun of my favorite grandson?" Phil cracked a smile and raised an eyebrow.
"Grandpa…"
"Lay it on me."
"Fine. I've been hearing this music every time I see a certain… girl in my class."
"Oh, really? And what kind of music is this?"
"Um… kind of sad, beautiful, slow." He frowned, "It's been bothering me for a while now."
Phil stood and walked his empty plate to the sink so that his face was hidden to Arnold. "Any chance this has to do with your little blond friend?"
Arnold couldn't tell if his Grandpa was laughing or flinching in horror, but he plowed on. "Well… yeah, it's Helga. I used to only hear it when I saw her. Mostly outside of school. When our friends weren't…" he trailed off, hesitant.
"Go on."
"I mean, I've heard other music before… but this music has been hers for as long as I can remember. And now…"
"Ye-es?" Phil scrubbed something in the sink and then toweled it dry.
"It's changed."
"Hm." His Grandpa paused. "In a good way or bad way?" he asked evenly, turning to lean back against the sink with his arms crossed.
"I—I don't know for sure. It's never been bad. Just hers. But the problem now is that it won't stop. I can't get it out of my head. It's driving me crazy—but in a way, I k-kind of—" Arnold turned red and suddenly collapsed into a chair. Phil started chuckling quietly to himself, but Arnold couldn't continue. He let his head fall onto the table.
"Well, Shortman, I hate to break it to you, but what you've got sounds a lot like lovesickness to me!"
"Grandpa!" Arnold moaned.
"What? There's nothing wrong with a little healthy infatuation. Why, at your age, it's perfectly normal."
"What's normal?" Gertie had walked in the room. Arnold grunted into the table cloth.
"Young Arnold's got himself a big loopy crush on a girl, Pookie!" Phil's glee was evident in his voice.
"A young lady, huh?" Gertie's hand was on his shoulder. She gave him a congratulatory squeeze.
Arnold couldn't take it anymore. He had to get out of the boarding house.