Ch. #4: The Story of Helga G. Pataki
Author's Notes: Hey guys! Sorry for the wait! I'm back with another chapter! Thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts. It always makes me smile and it's really encouraging. This chapter's going to be more of a buildup to upcoming chapters. There's a little drama going on and some deception, so keep your eyes peeled.
Without further ado, I bring you Chapter #4! Enjoy!
…
The next morning came with a groan as Helga distinctly remembered that it was a school day, which entailed getting up an hour earlier than yesterday for class. She sat up from her makeshift bed on Arnold's couch, looking across the room to an empty bed. Arnold had gotten up only ten minutes earlier, greeting her with a small smile and mentioning that they should probably be getting ready for school. She had not been as chipper, however, preferring to pull the blankets over her head and insisting on getting those few extra minutes of sleep. Now, sitting in Arnold's room alone, she couldn't help but reflect on the conversation she had with him the night before. He had genuinely surprised her when he had revealed that he had been keeping one of her shoes with him all this time. Sure, at the time, he was under the impression that he was keeping another girl's shoes, and not actually hers, but still, it was close enough. She sighed dreamily. It was almost like Arnold was stalking her. Oh, how the tides had turned.
However, there was a slight problem. Arnold was acting like last night never happened. There was no nervousness, no questions about why she pretended to be Cecile in the first place or about her diary, no quick glances in her direction, no big pronouncement about his love for her like she was hoping, nothing. Sure, she was grateful that he wasn't avoiding her, but still, she expected at least some type of reaction. It was beginning to put her on edge—like she was waiting for a ticking time bomb to explode.
She frowned.
No.
There wasn't going to be any of that.
Helga G. Pataki was anything but patient. It was best to just bite the bullet now rather than wait ages for Mr. Noncommittal to bring up the subject. She was going for it head on. Arnold may have caught her off guard last night, but now, it was her turn to do the surprising.
"Hey Arnoldo," she greeted when Arnold entered the room. He was dressed in his usual blue sweater, pulled over a red checkered shirt.
He sat down on his bed before looking over at her. "Yeah?"
"I meant to ask," she replied. "What were you keeping Cecile's shoe for anyways?"
He blinked a couple of times, as if her question had taken him by surprise. He looked down, a slight blush dusting his cheeks.
Finally, a reaction! Her mind cheered.
"I don't know. I guess I was kind of hoping that if I kept it, Cecile would eventually come back for it and I would get to see her again," he answered. He looked back at her, giving her a half-lidded grin. "It's a good thing I kept it because she came back after all."
She rolled her eyes. "Arnold, Cecile didn't know you kept her shoe," she replied, recalling that she had spent a whole day re-tracing her steps to find that shoe. "What if the fire never happened and I never got to stay here and find out that you were keeping my shoe all this time?"
"Then I guess I could give the shoe back to its rightful owner," he responded.
She wasn't convinced. "Oh, and how do you suppose you were going to do that? Go to every house in Hillwood, asking if every fair maiden can try on the red shoe in hopes that by some miracle, no other girl had the same size feet as Cecile, and we could both live happily ever after?" she inquired. She hoped that he didn't catch the implication that she would gladly live with him if he were to have discovered her identity that way.
Fortunately, he didn't.
He shrugged. "I don't know . . . maybe."
She crossed her arms. He really had to stop being so idealistic. "Oh, what do you think this is? Cinderella? No girl is going to just willingly throw on some girl's sweaty old shoe like some rags to riches story. Face it, Arnold. You'd never find Cecile that way."
"Well, I don't know about that. I mean, Abner has a good sense of smell, and I could let him sniff the shoe a couple of times and then lead me to Cecile," he offered.
She frowned. He had a point. "Okay, then why didn't you?"
He blinked. "Huh?"
"If you were really looking for Cecile all this time, then you could have just let Abner sniff my shoe like you said and lead you to me."
He gave a sheepish grin. "Well," he began, rubbing the back of his head. "when you put it that way, I probably could have. That is, if I thought of it."
"But you didn't think of it," she asserted.
He got up from the bed and walked over the closet, leaving her puzzled. What was he up to? He returned from inside the closet with one of Cecile's shoes. Her shoe.
He walked over to her and stood in front of her, offering the shoe. Green eyes met blue. "Well, I'm sure I would eventually," he answered. As she grabbed the shoe, one of her hand's grazed Arnold's. The two blushed.
Arnold frowned, his brows knitting together in contemplation. Then, his green eyes set on hers. "Hey Helga? There's, um, something I've been meaning to do ever since I found out you were Cecile," he said.
Helga suddenly felt nervous. "Y-yes Arnold? What is it?" she whispered.
Arnold suddenly leaned down, his lips meeting hers. Helga let out a soft squeak in surprise. She couldn't believe it! Arnold was actually kissing her! She closed her eyes, kissing back.
"Oh Arnold . . . ." She sighed against his lips.
"Helga . . . ." Arnold said softly in response, deepening the kiss. His voice began drifting off, sounding further away.
"Helga . . . ."
"Helga . . . ."
"Helga!" Arnold's voice shouted, startling Helga awake. She opened her eyes, finding her lips pressed against a pillow.
"Helga, is there something you want to tell me? Because this is the second time I caught you doing weird things with my pillow," he said, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.
Helga looked up to find green eyes staring down at her. She blushed in embarrassment, sitting up straight.
"Well, what do you expect? I'm starving," she replied, hoping that he would take the bait.
He didn't.
"You're starving," he repeated in a tone of disbelief.
She threw her hands up. "Yes, I'm starving! What, you didn't hear me the first time?!" she replied.
She didn't need a game of twenty questions right now. Not only did she feel disappointed that her wonderful moment with Arnold had been a fantasy, she had to face the embarrassment of Arnold thinking that she had gone insane because she decided to randomly have a make-out session with a pillow. Now, to have her football head suddenly grow some common sense was just too much for her to handle in one morning.
As luck would have it, Arnold dropped the subject, seeming to note her distress.
He rubbed his head. "Okay, well, uh, Grandma's making some breakfast now. If we head downstairs now, I think we can make it before Oskar eats it all," he answered.
"Fine, fine, just give me a minute," she replied, waving him off. She reached into her bag, grabbing a hairbrush. She pushed her hair over her shoulder, running her brush through long, tangled blonde locks. Her hair gradually began to look more sheen, her brush strokes becoming less rough. She stopped, feeling eyes on her.
"Arnold, it's rude to stare," she said quietly, her cheeks dusting red.
He blinked, his face becoming a deep shade of red. "Uh, s-sorry," he said. "It's just . . . you look . . . . "
She raised her eyebrow. "Girly?"
"Beautiful," he answered in wonderment.
Her eyes widened. Did Arnold just . . . .? Her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed on the couch, motionless.
Arnold froze. What just happened? "Helga?!"
He rushed over to her, reaching for her hand. "Helga!"
His voice soon faded into nothingness.
…
…
Ten minutes later, Helga felt something warm and slimy slide across her face.
Once.
Twice.
Three ti-
Her eyes snapped open, coming face-to-face with a small pig.
"Oink," the pig said, licking her in the face a fourth time. She screamed, crawling backwards, away from the pig. She fell off the couch with a thump. Abner jumped on top of her, licking her in the face. She screamed again, shoving him off of her.
"Ew! Gross! Get this pig away from me before I kick it!" she said, spitting continuously and rubbing her face with her jumper to remove any traces of slobber.
"Abner!" Arnold called, rushing into the room to grab the pig's collar. Abner gave another happy oink before it wriggled through Arnold's grasp and rushed out of the room.
He gave her a warm smile. "Sorry about that," he said, offering her a hand. "Are you okay?" he asked.
She grabbed his hand, brushing herself off. "No, I'm not okay. I just got attacked by a pig!" she argued. "I swear, he was probably tasting me just now to see if I'm chicken flavored."
Arnold laughed. She instantly felt insulted.
She crossed her arms. "Hey, just what the heck is so funny, football head?"
He wiped the tears from his eyes, his laughter starting to die down. "H-Helga, f-first of all, pigs don't eat humans, and second, even if they did, Abner is the last animal you'd have to worry about," he remarked. "He'd sooner steal your food then eat you. He's the friendliest pig I know."
"Sure, that's what they want you to think. I bet every pig is just waiting for the right moment for saps like you to let your guard down, and then, bam! Pig chow," she answered. She narrowed her eyes. "Abner may look friendly, but did you see the way he maneuvered out of your arms like a boss? That looked like ninja training to me."
Arnold gave her an odd stare. Then, he laughed, even louder than the first time.
He shook his head. "Helga, you have the wildest imagination," he said. Then, he paused, reconsidering. "Well, second wildest." His grandmother was the first.
She shrugged. "Fine then. Don't believe me, but don't say ol' Helga G. Pataki didn't warn you as Abner's over there feasting on your innards and oinking to all his friends about it."
He laughed again, then stopped, realizing he forgot something important. He placed a hand to Helga's forehead.
"Hey, what gives? I'm not crazy!" Helga said, slapping his hand away. However, she stopped when she saw his expression. His face was serious.
"Helga, are you sure you're alright? You really had me worried when you collapsed like that earlier. I thought . . ." His words trailed off.
The memory of her fainting after Arnold's compliment came to mind. She looked away. "Seriously, football head. You don't have to worry abou-"
He grabbed her hand, causing her to meet his eyes again in shock. "You've been fainting a lot lately. A couple of days ago, you fainted in the house fire too. If I hadn't been there, things could have been worse," he said. He frowned. "Helga, you may try to act tough, but if you don't tell someone when something's wrong, then you might get hurt, and I don't want to lose you."
Her eyes widened.
I don't want to lose you . . . .
Her face wore a dazed expression. She looked between their entwined hands. Then, she used her other hand to reach over and grab something soft.
"Ow!" she cried, rubbing her arm from the spot she pinched.
Arnold blinked. "Helga, what are you-"
She slapped herself in the face.
"Ouch!" Helga cried.
"Helga, stop it!" Arnold said, grabbing her hand tighter. "Why are you hitting yourself?"
She grabbed a sofa cushion and hit herself one time.
"Helga!"
Two times.
"Listen to me-"
Three times.
"Seriously, stop it-"
Four ti-
"Enough! Snap out of it!" Arnold exclaimed, snatching the pillow from her hand and throwing it to the floor. "Helga, just talk to me! What's going on?"
"I'm not dreaming," she whispered. That means Arnold actually cares about me. She thought blissfully. She grinned.
If Arnold wasn't concerned before, he definitely had cause for concern now.
His eyebrows knit together. "Of course you're not dreaming! Helga, I don't think you're well enough for school today. I'll tell Mr. Simmons you had to stay home today."
She shook her head. "I'll be fine." The last thing she needed was another day with her family. She narrowed her eyes, snatching her hand away from his grip. "And for the record, no one tells Helga G. Pataki what to do . . . got it?!" She waved her fist in front of him for emphasis.
He sighed. "Whatever you say, Helga. But I'd feel a lot better if we walked to school together, just so that I can make sure you're okay."
She blinked. Arnold wants to walk to school together with me. She felt a dreamy sigh coming. She decided to play it cool.
"Yeah, sure, whatever floats your boat," she answered, giving a casual shrug.
…
…
Arnold and Helga were walking hand in hand to the school, and Helga was enjoying every minute of it. It's almost like we're boyfriend and girlfriend. She thought, squealing inwardly.
However, as they approached the familiar red brick building that was PS 118, she began to have second thoughts. What would people at school say if they saw a bully holding hands with the bullied? Would they think she had grown soft?
"Everyone was really worried about you, Helga. They're going to be happy to see you at school today," Arnold said with a smile.
She rolled her eyes. "Sure, they're going to be skipping for joy that Helga G. Pataki's not dead yet," she replied, her voice laced in sarcasm.
"Well, maybe not skipping for joy," he said, not picking up on her sarcasm. "But they'll probably want to ask about you to make sure that you're okay. A lot has happened this weekend. I can't wait to see what Gerald says when I tell him that you were Cecile."
She stopped walking.
He looked back at her, his face twisted in confusion. "What's wrong?"
She frowned. "Listen, Arnold," she said, jabbing him in the chest with a finger. "I didn't think I had to say this, but you better not say a word to anyone about what happened between us this weekend—nothing about me fainting in the house fire and this morning, nothing about me sleeping in your room, nothing about me tailing you and Lila at the movie theatre, and especially nothing about me being Cecile. Because if you do, I will personally ensure that every day you experience after that point is a living nightmare. I'm serious. And don't think you can slip anything to Tall Hair boy. I have my sources. I will find you."
He raised his eyebrows at the threat. "But Helga, I don't get why you're so worried about anyone knowing about what happened." He frowned. "Is this about your reputation again?"
"You just don't get it."
"Helga—"
She yanked her hand from his grip. "On second thought, I think I'm fine walking on my own to school today. Don't forget about what we talked about." With that, she marched away in a huff.
He gave a short laugh, watching her retreating form. "Yeah, what we talked about," he said bitterly. She never lets me get a word in edgewise. It's always one-sided with her.
He shook his head. "Fine."
He would take his own way to school.
…
…
After class, Arnold met up with Gerald in the hall. Predictably, Gerald wanted to know everything about his date last night with Lila. While Arnold made it clear that he wasn't in the mood to talk about it, unfortunately, Gerald didn't get the hint.
"Come on man, spill. What happened between you and your date last night?" he asked for the twentieth time in a row.
Arnold rolled his eyes. "I already told you. Nothing happened, Gerald. Quit asking me about it."
"Something did happen. I can see it in your face," Gerald persisted. "Everyone knows that when a person says nothing happened, they really mean that something really big happened but it's just too big to share all at once."
Arnold stared at Gerald, briefly wondering where on earth he came up with his information. He shook his head. "Yeah, well, that's not the case this time," he replied. "I'm telling you the truth. Nothing happened." When they approached their lockers, he took a geography book out and replaced it with a math book.
Gerald didn't let up. "Okay, look. You don't have to tell me everything now. Just give me a little something to tide me over until school's over."
Arnold shut his locker, looking to Gerald in irritation. Now he was starting to get annoyed. "Gerald, for the last ti—"
"Arnold," came a girl's voice from behind him.
The two boys turned around.
Lila.
She gave a small smile. "Pardon my interruption, but Arnold, can I talk to you for a moment?" she asked.
Gerald and Arnold looked at each other, then back to Lila.
Arnold blinked. "Uh, sure, Lila. What's up?" he asked.
Lila looked between Gerald and Arnold, not saying anything.
Arnold caught on. "Oh! Um . . . ." He looked to Gerald. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all, buddy. Please continue," he said, grinning.
Arnold shot him a look. "Gerald . . . ." He said.
Gerald threw his arms up in defense. "Alright, alright. I know when I'm not wanted. I'll give you two some alone time." He made sure to stretch out the last two words before walking over to the water fountain across the hall to get a drink. As he sipped on his water, Gerald peeked out of the corner of his eye in time to see Lila hugging Arnold. He narrowed his eyes. Suspicious. He sat up, wiping his mouth off of any traces of water.
From a distance, he saw Lila waving to Arnold before walking off, a bright smile on her face. Arnold approached him. Gerald raised a questioning brow.
Arnold gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that, Gerald. Lila and I were just talking about, " He looked away. "things," he finished with a small blush.
Gerald could barely contain his grin. "Oh, I see," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "And do these things by any chance have anything to do with what happened last night?"
Arnold frowned. "Well, yes, but—"
Gerald held up a hand. "That's okay, man! I don't need to know the details," he cut in quickly. "Just tell me one thing. Did she kiss you?"
Arnold recalled Lila placing a kiss on his cheek last night before entering her house.
"Y-yes, she did, but not in the way you're thinking, Gerald," he answered truthfully. "It was more like the goodbye kiss those two sixth grade girls at the dance gave us after we dealt with their jealous boyfriends."
Gerald's eyes widened. "It was like that?!" he exclaimed. "Oh man! I didn't know she wanted you that badly!"
Arnold blinked, putting his hands up. "What? No, you don't understand. I-"
But Gerald heard none of that. He shook his head, grinning. "I don't believe it. My man got kissed on his first date with Lila, and I set him up. Man, I'm good," he said, giving himself a pat on the back. "Maybe I should set up a dating service and charge people for it. Then, I could have all the ice cream I ever wanted," he theorized.
"Wait, Gerald! I didn't mean—"
"No need to thank me, buddy. It's all in a day's work." He said. He waved to him, walking away. "I'll see you around, Arnold."
Arnold gave a long sigh.
It was going to be one of those days.
…
…
Helga was more than relieved when the last school bell rang to mark the end of school for the day. The thought of being bombarded with another question about her wellbeing after the house fire on Saturday and seeing classmates constantly whisper amongst themselves and sneak her pity glances in her direction was enough to annoy her. Yes, she almost died last weekend. No, that didn't mean everyone was obligated to say something to her about it. They didn't seem to care about her before the house fire. Why pretend like they do now? She had seriously considered whipping out old Betsy and the five avengers when the last person dared to tell her that they were sorry about what happened. She had seen that person at her house the day it caught on fire. Obviously, they weren't sorry enough to help her when the fire was actually happening. No. They had been too concerned about their own behinds to lift a hand. As far as she was concerned, that sorry meant nothing.
Arnold had been the only person to do something about it.
She stopped, her head bowed. Arnold.
He was really the only reason she was alive right now. And yet . . . she had been so rude to him earlier when he only offered to walk with her to school to make sure she was okay. What was wrong with her? She shook her head. She really needed to speak with Phoebe right now. She hadn't spoken to her all day because she made a concentrated effort to avoid everyone so they wouldn't keep asking her about the fire. In doing so, however, she had pushed Phoebe away too. She continued walking in the direction of Phoebe's house. She had to make things right.
…
…
Helga stood before the door of the Heyerdahl residence. She took a deep breath, pushing the doorbell once.
Within a few moments, the door opened, revealing a tall brown-haired woman.
She blinked in surprise. "Oh, sug! It's you! I heard all about that horrible house fire last weekend. Are you alright hon?" she said in a warm Southern drawl.
Helga resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm fine, Mrs. Heyerdahl," she answered. "Is Phoebe home?"
"Oh yes, she just got home a few minutes ago. Just head right on up," she said, opening the door wider for her to go through.
Helga was almost to the stairs when she heard Mrs. Heyerdahl's voice from behind her.
"Helga dear?"
She turned around. "Yes?"
Mrs. Heyerdahl paused for a moment to really look at Helga. Then, she gave her a small smile. "Let me know if you ever need anything," she said.
Helga's eyes widened. She smiled in understanding. "Sure, Mrs. Heyerdahl. I'll do that." With that, she headed up the stairs.
…
Upon opening the door to Phoebe's room, Helga saw that Phoebe was nowhere to be found. She looked around at the traditional Japanese bed in the corner, followed by a couple posters of Einstein and Harry Potter and two feng shui plants in the room. Her eyes stopped at a plate full of what looked like cookies on Phoebe's nightstand near her bed. That wasn't there before.
She walked over to the nightstand to get a better look at them. She sat on Phoebe's bed, looking over at the cookies. They looked fresh. She estimated about twenty cookies on the plate. Maybe she'd have just one cookie while she waited. Phoebe would understand. She reached down and picked up a cookie, biting into it.
She grinned.
Chocolate chip. Her favorite.
One cookie soon became three, then six, and then twelve. Helga was already munching on the thirteenth cookie when Phoebe stepped in the room. Phoebe gasped when she noticed Helga laying on her bed.
Helga burped. "'Sup Phoe—"
"Helga, stop!" she screamed, rushing over to Helga and snatching away the cookie she had been eating. "What have you done?!"
Helga frowned at her reaction. "Sheesh, Pheebs. No need to get your panties in a twist. There's still some cookies left."
"That isn't the point," Phoebe said, grabbing the plate of the remaining cookies and moving them to her desk. She turned to her with a frown. "Those cookies weren't for you."
Helga rolled her eyes. "So? You can always make more, right?"
"Helga," Phoebe cried, crossing her arms. "You don't understand. The key ingredient in those cookies took me months to make. The cookies were for research purposes."
At that, Helga sat up. She raised her brow. "Research purposes?"
"Those cookies you ate contained sodium pentothal," she stated.
"Pheebs, you're going to have to speak English if you're going to get through to me."
Phoebe muttered a few harsh words in Japanese before responding. "Helga, sodium pentothal is a type of drug that weakens the central nervous system, which means that subjects would be more apt to revealing information that they normally wouldn't," she explained. Her face became serious. "However, I made a few changes to its chemical components."
"Changes? What kind of changes?" Helga said quickly, tugging on her collar a few times. Was it getting hot in here?
Phoebe bit her lip, looking away.
"Phoebe!" Helga called desperately.
Phoebe looked to her, giving her a tentative smile. "Um . . . promise not to panic?"
Helga gave a nervous laugh. "Panicking? Who's panicking? No one's panicking here," she said, hyperventilating.
"It's . . . nothing to worry about really."
"Nothing to worry about?!" Helga exclaimed. She stood up and walked over to Phoebe, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her violently. "Phoebe, I could be dying here! I think the world's starting to spin, and I can barely breathe!"
Phoebe gave a small smile. "I assure you, Helga. You're not going to die," she stated calmly.
This did nothing to calm her. "How would you know?! You're still researching this, right?" Her eyes widened in terror. She put a hand over her heart. Oh God. I ate so many of those cookies.
"Helga!" Phoebe said, snapping her out of it. "You're going to be fine. The worst thing that you might be experiencing is a little drowsiness and dizziness. I only added a tiny bit of the drug in the batch, barely enough to cause any reaction. However . . . because I also combined the drug with another general anesthetic, the effects of the drug might be a little heightened and last longer."
Helga let go of her shoulders, relaxing a little. "Phoebe, why on earth would you make something like that?!" she demanded.
"I thought it would be useful for improving police interrogations," she explained.
"And you couldn't have told me first before I came here and became your lab rat?!" she argued. Then, she added. "Oh, but you should really make more of those chocolate chip cookies without the drug when you have the time. They were delicious. You're a really good baker, Phoebe."
She giggled. "Ooh! Why, thank you, Helga."
Helga frowned. "But that still doesn't change the fact that you basically poisoned your best friend with cookies that were out in the open, just waiting for any unsuspecting person to take one and be forced to spill all their incriminating secrets to anyone around."
"But Helga, I do believe I told you about the cookies many times and—"
"Phoebe, you know me. How many times do I actually listen to a word you say without cutting you off?"
She looked away. "Well . . . n-never, but-"
"Exactly! So what makes you think I would listen to the several hundred times you told me about this experiment?"
"I-I thought—"
"It's okay, Phoebe. Apology accepted. Just tell me what I'm in for," she said, sitting down on Phoebe's bed. She held her head, yawning.
Phoebe sighed. Really, she had no idea why she even bothered to argue with Helga.
"The effects of the drug will last for approximately eight hours. During that time, you're going to be a little more . . . open than you would normally," she replied.
"How open are we talking?" Helga questioned.
Phoebe looked to her. "Helga, what do you think about Arnold?" she asked suddenly.
"I don't know what to think!" Helga exclaimed. "I mean, I know that he's the sweetest, most dependable person I know and I love him with all my heart, but now that he knows that I'm Cecile, I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. He hasn't said much about it really, and I'm really worried that I might have scared him away. Like, today, when he offered to walk me to school, instead of thanking him for the nice gesture, what do I do? I practically jump down his throat, threatening him not to say anything about what happened between us. I even told him I'd walk myself to school! He probably hates me now."
Phoebe blinked at the information. "What made you jump down Arnold's throat?"
"I know it's stupid, but I'm scared about my reputation. If people know that I have this mushy side to me, I'm afraid they'll use it to step all over me," Helga answered. "Plus, I'm afraid he'll turn me down if I get too close to him and I just . . . I don't know if I can handle that," she added quietly.
"Why don't you just tell him what you told me?"
"Are you insane?!" she exclaimed. "I can't tell him what I told you! He won't understand. Plus, I would rather die from this stupid drug than face him like that."
"Helga . . . ." Phoebe said sadly. She wished she could help in some way. Then, a thought hit her. "Oh! I, uh, just remembered something," she said. She reached into her desk, pulling out a bag of cookies. Pleasantly surprised, she put a hand over her mouth, giggling.
Helga looked at her, frowning. "You made another batch of those cookies?!" she said. "What's so funny about that?!"
Phoebe continued giggling. "O-oh Helga, don't you see? Those cookies that you ate, they were placebos! They were only chocolate chip cookies!" she explained.
Helga blinked. "What?"
"I forgot that I kept the actual cookies containing the drug inside my desk because I anticipated that someone might think that they were normal chocolate chip cookies," she said.
Helga brightened up, beginning to understand. "So then, those cookies—"
"Absolutely drug free! You don't have to worry about there being any drug in your system," she exclaimed. "Those symptoms that you were feeling earlier were all in your head."
"Phoebe, that's great! I feel better already!" Helga said, sitting up. "Don't do that to me. I was so scared that this was going to be it for me."
Phoebe smiled. "Sorry Helga," she said.
"So then, I guess I should be heading back to Arnold's place soon, now that I know I won't spill anything," Helga said, rubbing her arm. She gave a genuine smile. "Thanks for listening to me, Pheebs. You're the first one I go to when it comes to this kind of stuff. You're the best friend I ever had."
Phoebe blinked, not expecting the compliment. "I, uh, well, thank you, Helga."
Helga stood up, walking over to the door. Then, she turned around. She yawned again. "Hey, do you mind passing me the rest of those chocolate chip cookies?"
Phoebe's eyes widened. "I-I was actually thinking about eating the rest later," she said.
Helga sighed. "Oh fine, but you better make more soon," she said.
"Of course!" Phoebe replied.
"Later Pheebs," Helga said, waving. She headed out the door, holding her head. "Man, why do I feel like a bus hit me?" she mumbled to herself.
Phoebe looked out the window to see Helga heading in the direction of the Sunset Boarding House.
Her face fell.
Oh . . . I hope I made the right decision, lying to her like that. However, I think that a little honesty is what Helga needs right now.
…
Author's Notes: Tsk, tsk, tsk, Phoebe. Very sneaky. Pandora's Box is about to be unleased in the next chapter. I wonder how Arnold is going to react to a more honest Helga. It's certainly going be interesting to see! And Gerald has a few plans of his own too, and we all know how that usually works out. And what exactly did Lila tell Arnold? This all will be revealed in the next chapter . . . stay tuned!
As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! (Hint, hint.)
Until next time, cheers!