Sooo to all the people expecting a full on, crazy amazing poem, I'm sorry to dissapoint you. I'm not a genius writer so I hope you can cut me some slack and just... imagine how good it is? I write almost everything on my phone, too, so most of this gets done while commuting. I have a pretty busy life so a complete poem wasn't part of the plan... again, I'm sorry! *fetal position*
All of the best freshmen entry projects get published in the school paper each fall. I don't think it usually includes anyone else, but despite the fact that it was written by a sophomore I find it. Helga's entry piece reads like a Shakespearean masterpiece. It's a poem, lines rhyming almost musically. The first time I read it I'm positive it's about a man mourning his lover but certain words catch and make me scrutinize it a little more. I go over some of it again:
Tell me, cruel mistress, why thy chamber rings hollow?
What is love without hatred? Joy without sorrow?
Tell me true, why am I not yet bathed
In the ring of your mercy as I falter, depraved?
Oh. I'm almost positive now, but...
A: Reading your essay. Is the guy about to commit suicide?
She texts back a few minutes later.
Helga: Kudos Shortman
A: Wow.. it's really good Helga. Did you mean for love and death to be interchangeable that way?
Helga: That was the plan!
A: What made you write it?
Helga: Oof. That's a long convo for another day buddy. That's not rude is it?
A: No! It's amazing. I didn't know I was in the presence of such literary greatness
Helga: *Bows*
A: Don't let it go to your head lol
Helga: Even if it did it'll never be football shaped lmao
A: You wound me, mistress of the pinky finger!
Helga: Thy punishment is just, oh foolish whelp
A: Hey!
What could her inspiration have been I wonder. Still, I know Helga just enough. She's never been one to budge on anything until she feels comfortable enough. I can respect that. I send her a teary emoji and laugh. That back-and-forth is how we spend our days (which turn into weeks) until mid-October is upon us. Gerald managed to convince me to convince Helga to convince Phoebe to gather up for a game night at our house. Lee helpfully volunteered his Wii and some games that I'm pretty sure are gonna embarass us. But deep down I think that's part of what we're all looking foward to.
When the Saturday we agreed upon rolls around I spend the day helping Gerald tidy up (while Lee escapes with the valid excuse of work until the evening).
"You looking foward to seeing Phoebe?" I ask him with a grimace after digging a pair of socks (that have yellowed beyond belief) out from underneath our loveseat. He yelps when I throw them and they land on his head.
"Bro!" He shakes the offending pair off and tosses them back into my hands. "Yeah I am. I've seen her facebook. That girl is my Mulan, man. She just doesn't know it yet."
"You guys have always had a thing, I feel like. You just hadn't hit puberty yet." I chuckle.
"I mean I could say the same about you and another certain blonde.."
"It's not like that!" He's waggling his brows like a jerk so of course I have to laugh.
"Not yet. Ya'll have history, man. Do you not like her?"
Grabbing the broom from its spot in the kitchen corner, I pause. "I don't know. I mean... She's... Attractive..."
"You mean hot, Arnold. It's just me. Your best friend. You can say it."
"She's beautiful, alright? And yeah, sometimes I find myself really attracted to that. But she's also smart and funny and really cool. I'm not gonna ruin anything by thinking with the wrong head."
"Ugh," Gerald sighs and stacks some random magazines onto a small table in the living room, "you'll learn the hard way."
"Learn what?"
"That mother nature doesn't allow two ridiculously similar people to be together without the urge."
Hands curled like fake claws, he slashes at nothing and humps the air.
"What the hell," I laugh, "is wrong with you?"
"Nada. I'm just not in denial. If you asked me what I want to do to Phoebe I could give you an itinerary."
"Please don't man. I don't need that in my head."
"You don't have any room in your head, dreaming of Miss Pataki and that Kendall-Jenner-body-plus-Kylie Jenner-rack."
I give him the side eye and he shakes his head. "Hey man, just because I'm not in the least bit interested doesn't mean I can't see it. Instagram. No offense meant."
"None taken. But I really do like being friends with her. So lay off it, alright? I don't need her thinking I'm just trying to get in her pants. Cause I'm not."
Gerald mutters under his breath, "Not yet, cause you're slow."
"That's it..."
I poke the end of the broom stick against his ass and enjoy the high pitched 'CHILL MAN!' that squeaks out of him. Ah, those best friend priviledges.
A few hours go by and we've managed to pull both the house and ourselves together. We've cleaned. Organized. Tag teamed a recipe for bbq pulled pork. I'm showered and relaxing in some sweats and a white tee, reading a dog-eared copy of 'Ishmael' for the hundreth time. Heavy clinking echoes in the kitchen- Gerald checking the crockpot the meat's in- and the sweet, tangy smell fills the air.
"We did good Arnold," he says with a nod and lick of his lips. "Good thing your grandma and my dad actually taught us a valuable skill. Doesn't hurt that the ladies like it either. Gimme some thumb sugar."
As he walks past me the sleeve of his red thermal touches my hand and we hook them together, wiggling thumbs the way we have since we were kids. It's the stuff of brotherhood.
"Julian's getting the drinks?" I ask from behind a page.
"Yeah, bookworm. I gave him our share. He knows the girls want Angry Orchard and I told him Budlight or Heineken would be fine. I'm not trying to blow chunks in front of anyone."
"Cool. He bringing that Samantha girl?"
"Nah, I think he said he gave up on that. She tried to get him to eat tofu or something."
We stick out our tongues and laugh.
The sun's setting earlier nowadays but I can tell it's closer to the evening now. Not much light coming through the windows anymore. We agreed on seven thirty, so it'll be a couple hours. I've done all my assignments for the week, added the finishing touches on my field sketches, and Mary Poppins-ed the hell outta the house... I pull my phone out and shoot Helga a text:
A: Knock knock
Helga: Whose there?
A: No one. It's the sound of me knocking you out at Wii Boxing
Helga: YOU? Best Betsy and the Five Avengers? Don't make me die of premature disbelief
A: ... I forgot you had a mean jab. Haven't seen you punch anyone in ages lmao
Helga: Yeah, Brainy was the last before reality set in. Did you know punching people is assault? Craaazy
A: LOL so violent!
Helga: I prefer defensively aggressive
A: Can't wait :)
Helga: To get your butt kicked? Don't worry, it'll happen
I'm excited to see her again. We've both been busy with our course work. The type of situation where your schedules never match over and over to the point where you can"t help but think that the universe must hate you. In the end it's given Gerald more time to reacquaint himself with Phoebe, and me more time to keep talking to Helga. The list of what makes up who she is has piled higher:
Her little stspbrother Nathan (who prefers Nate) is six years old and the 'sweetest brat on earth'. She still has an old pink gameboy color that she keeps in a drawer because 'it works perfectly, and I had to beg for weeks to get it!'. Mint brownie chip is her favorite ice cream flavor. The last book she chose to re-read was her old high school-stolen copy of Wuthering Heights ('Are you a Heathcliff or a Linton?' she'd texted me with a couple of silly emojis).
It's the cheesiest thing, but there's something different about Helga. Something worth keeping around even if it does cost me some sexual discomfort... Gerald is right. Hot is the word.
"Honeys, I'm hooooome!"
Julian announces himself loudly and slams the front door shut.
"Damn it smells good! What were you guys doing while I was gone? Food Network marathon?"
Gerald heads for the kitchen and responds before I can even get up. I walk into their conversation and sit at the table.
"Do you really have to be so damn happy all the time, Julie?" I hear him groan.
"It's a key component of my Lee-ness, Gerald. Can't stop won't stop. I got the booze on the way home. What's for eats?"
"Pulled pork sandwiches. I left the buns beside the crockpot if you wanna have one right away."
"Word. Today was one of those. Some lady came in and threw a fit because she 'couldn't find the whipped cream' in her coffee... After letting it sit for a good ten minutes. Have I told you I hate people?"
Gerad claps him on the back. "Then don't look so inviting all the time."
"I can't help my natural charisma. I blame mom for it. Dad's scary as fuck if you don't know him. He made a little kid cry by handing him his toy when he took me to the playground once."
"That explains so much." I chime in.
"What up Romeo. Doth Juliette tarry?" He gives me a fist bump.
"Yeah, yeah. I think Gerald's playing that role tonight though. Helga's just my friend."
The way both guys look at each other is so sarcastic it almost hurts.
"I'm serious, you better not-!"
Doorbell rings.
"It's time to get this party started!" Lee whips around to get the door, coffee stained tee and all.
"What's up ladies? Julian. Lee if you don't mind. Right this way."
"Oh my, nice to meet you! I'm Phoebe." We hear Phoebe squeak.
"Hey. We meet again." There's a smile in Helgas voice.
"Oh yeah! I do remember. It's nice to see you again."
Lee wiggles his eyebrows at me like the douche he loves to be and steps aside. Helga walks into the kitchen dressed in ripped jeans and a black jacket that makes her blonde ponytail look... blonder. The hem of her pants is rolled up just enough to see a tiny pawprint tattooed just above where her white converses end.
"Arnold!" Phoebe smiles at me. She's like a tiny, pretty fairy. Her black hair falls almost to her waist now, and I notice Gerald watching her so I grin. She's in leggings and a soft blue sweater whose sleeves wrap around me in an unexpected hug. "Look at you. You're tall as a tree!"
"I think you just never grew." We all laugh.
She looks at Gerald and seems to freeze up. He, meanwhile, stands aside beckoning her over. "No, no. None of that. It's been ten fucking years. Come here."
In seconds flat they're hugging like the sort of corny movie couple you'd expect to see running across hills towards each other. "It's good to see you!" My best friend laughs into her hair. I'm sure if he were as pale as Phoebe is, his blush would show too. But I gotta hand it to him; that was well played. "Hi Helga. Looking well."
"Same to you. Hair as tall as ever, huh." Helga smiles then looks around, having shed her jacket. There's a plain lavender tee with a generous v-neck underneath it. I appreciate it immediately.
"Set it on one of the chairs." Lee suggests with a wave of his hand.
"Sure." she nods and then comes over to me.
Helga smells amazing. Like something light and sweet and I wonder whether her skin would taste that way on my tongue. That is not a fucking friendship thought, I remind myself.
"Hiya." Having her hair out of the way brings Helga's face to the forefront, especially her eyes. They're so damn blue.
"What's up you undercover genius?" I hug her quickly. "You smell good."
"Thanks. I'm great. Ready to kick your ass in the most virtual way possible."
"Oh, that's comforting," I assure her. She chuckles. "Gerald and I cooked so help yourselves to the pulled pork."
"You guys can cook?"
"Without burning a house down?" Phoebe giggles, surprising us all. I think Helga's had an influence on her, for sure. It's refreshing though. Phoebe was pretty softspoken from what I can remember.
It doesn't take long for us to settle into the living room, Phoebe and Gerald on the love seat and the rest of us crammed on the good ol' red couch. Helga's humming right through her sandwich with the most content look on her face before taking a swallow of beer.
"So which games do you have Lee?" Phoebe asks from across us.
"All kinds. Do you want the honors?"
"Oh, certainly!"
As Phoebe combs through the stack of games Lee procures from the tv stand I eat. I can see a good amount of Helga's cleavage because of our height difference (I'm capping at 6'1" so I'm guessing she must be a good 5'7"). Must. Not. Look.
"Helga!" Phoebe startles the crap out of us. "Look!" Just Dance 5 waves back and forth in her hand.
"Nooooo. You wanna smoke 'em that bad Pheebs?"
The reply is a wink. "Me and you babe. Let's kick it."
All three of us men just glance at each other without a damn clue.
"Move that hip, woman!" Three beers later Helga and Phoebe are side by side on front of the tv. They pick a song by that chick (with the starbucks-size-last-name) and we watch with blank looks as they set it to expert.
I got one less one less problem.
"I take it you've both played this before..." Lee starts dying against the couch, grinning like a cheshire cat.
"It's my little brother Nate's favorite game. Got it for his fifth birthday. Dip low Pheebs... Ooh, there we go. Haha!"
They're both in synch, Phoebe surprisingly good (although I'm sure Gerald would be staring at her ass regardless). Helga moves with a little more precision though. I expected her to be an awkward dancer for some reason. But she moves like she's enjoying every second of it, taking a sec to sacrifice points for shimmying herself at Phoebe.
"Get those sweater puppies out of my face, Pataki!" The smaller girl laughs, faltering in her rhythm. Helga just cracks up and keeps time with the beat, singing along poorly. I mean I'm pretty sure we all sound like dying whales when we sing, besides maybe Gerald. I'd have switched places with Phoebe in a heartbeat... and the smirk on Lee's face says he knows it.
When the song ends Lee claps. "You guys are too good at that. How many times were you forced to play?"
"By Nate? Oh god. Fifty thousand at least."
"It helps that she was a cheerleader in high school." Phoebe laughs, collapsing besides Gerald.
I turn to ask Helga. "That true?"
"Y-yeah," she admits sheepishly, "for our teams, the Sharks. I never mentioned it?"
"No." Gerald and I answer at once.
Lee breaks into song. "Ooh I think that I found myself a cheerleader!"
"She's always right there when I need her!" Phoebe finishes.
We stare.
"What? It's a catchy song. I like it!"
Somehow we stop laughing long enough for me to get paired against Lee and look like a dancing dumbass, but it's still really fun. It's a while before everyone has had enough of a workout.
"You two are a blast," Lee starts as he pops in a dvd, "you should come to Mick's with us for the halloween party."
"Mick?"
"Yeah. Tall, douchey football player? Star quarterback of the school? He's in our year but he's hosted an open invite house party for like, every occasion imaginable. Goes without saying you're free to join."
"I'll have to see." Phoebe replies. Gerald asks her something quietly and she smiles, the two heading off towards his room, where the door remains open... but still.
Lee heads for the bathroom and that leaves me alone with Helga. Whether this is on purpose or not they suck. There's an old Eddie Murphy comedy on in the background, the old gritty nineties music trumpeting along.
"You think you wanna get dressed up in costume and come?" I ask her.
"Umm... I'm not really into big parties like that, to be honest."
"Really? How come?"
Immediately I know I've asked the wrong thing as Helga looks down. "Well..."
"You don't have to tell me." I remind her.
"I know." Helga looks up at me with hazy sapphire eyes and sighs, tossing herself so that my lap is her pillow. She plays with her own hair and I chuckle when she smiles up goofily. I can smell the sweet warmth roiling off of her again, along with some coconut-y scent that wafts up from her hair. I wonder if that means she's too close.
"I can tell you. I'm pretty sure." She whispers. "You were always easy to talk to, have I ever told you that? Even when we were little."
"No, you never said. And to think I could've charged you five whole cents like that Peanuts character."
"Lucy?"
"Yeahh. Man I miss that show. The way the adults talk. Wompwompwomp."
"Oh gosh." She giggles. "I remember that! And thinking Peppermint Patty was a boy."
"The correct term is lesbian, Pataki."
"Hush!" She bats at my arm. I look down at her and fake a frown, watching her shirt ride up so that her belly ring catches the light. The skin there is smooth and fair. Her chest rises and falls steadily, and no I did not just notice how her tits heave a little each time, thankyouverymuch.
"About what happened..." With eyes closed she begins.
Helga tells me about her junior year, when her mom had married. How she'd started going out with the most hyped basketball player of the school. He'd been sweet and so different from his friends, she recalled with a shake of her head. There'd been hand holding and first kisses (for her, certainly not him, she shrugged) until the time came for them to go all the way. They had. And then she'd gotten dumped for a senior girl two weeks later. Fast foward to a birthday party a few months after the drama where she ran into a very drunk ex-boyfriend. He'd cornered her into the bathroom-
"And the bastard tried to...to yank my skirt off so I punched him. Broke his nose with Betsy." She kisses a clenched hand. "The entire school knew by morning, of course. Thankfully my stepdad, Elliot, is the good kind. When his family tried to claim I'd needlessly attacked their precious baby boy in a breakup fit, he was ready with a lawyer and the reminder that attempted rape would be the end of his sports career. They settled things quietly so the logistics weren't very clear at the time. But yeah. I haven't been interested in that sort of thing since then."
When did I start running my fingers through the ends of her hair? It doesn't seem to matter, because Helga allows it and damn near purrs when I slide them gently against her scalp.
"That feels nice, Shortman. Olga used to do that for me when I was really little."
I chuckle. "Did you like it?"
"Yeah. But I didn't want her to know so I bit her... God," she draws the word out, "I was so awful."
"Doubt it. Olga loves you. She'd be all over you every time she visited." And I'm not wrong. Olga would gush at Helga as if she were practically her own child, despite their vast differences.
"I know. I love her too."
They aren't words the Helga of my childhood would have ever said with such a genuine smile.
"You look tired."
"I am." She yawns, rolling over. "Do I even wanna know what happened to Phoebe and Geraldo? Are they making little mocha miracles together?"
I laugh so hard that I jostle her.
"I'll risk my eyesight and check." I say as she sits up. I miss the warmth of her on me already, and it's wierd, but I also don't give a fuck because I like it. A quick peek into Gerald's room and I see that he and Phoebe have fallen very innocently asleep beside each other (which is shocking in its own right. Gerald gets laid frequently enough all things concidered). I tell Helga as much.
"Well it's close to one thirty now. Just crash here."
"You gotta blanket?"
"Get up. Not here, here."
The look of confusion that crosses her face is adorable as she follows me to my room.
"Uhh..."
"Relax. I'll crash on the couch. You can have the master suite as long as you're comfortable with it." I dig through a drawer and yank out a dark blue tee and some black boxers."These okay? They're clean, promise. Just did my laundry two days ago."
"Toss 'em here."
Helga splays the shirt against herself. It looks like a huge dress. I chuckle. "This'll be fine. No big deal."
I grab a blanket from my closet and stand by the doorway.
"Any man that doesn't make a big deal out of your comfort isn't good enough for you, you know. G'night."
A look of realization brightens her face. "Goodnight Arnold... Thanks."
With a yawn I head for the couch and pull the covers over myself.
I spend the night trying not to think about the fact that the most amazing girl I already knew is tucked into my bed.
Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas! Thanks for your reviews; they give me life :)