Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.

ICYMI: Utmost pleasure, now a pending explanation.

Well, what are you waiting for? You didn't click here just to read the preamble, did you?

8. Us vs Us (Part 1)

On the one side of the kitchen table sat Arnold, flanked by his grandparents. On the other side, Miriam and Olga Pataki were similarly positioned next to Helga. The mood was austere all around; even Gertie was treating the situation with appropriate seriousness. In fact, it was she who suggested a civilized sit-down to discuss the matter ten minutes ago.

She'd been alerted by the sudden verbal altercation taking place in her grandson's room. The reason for the ruckus became instantly clear. Kimba had his drawers around his ankles, while Eleanor's face showed she wasn't quick enough to dodge his discharge. And shame on the adults in the room! Assigning blame to the one juvenile while deflecting it from the other. More concerned about their precious reputations than the well-being of the children.

Not on her watch!

"Enough!" the spry nonagenarian bellowed as she entered the room suddenly and undetected – as was her wont. "Do you really want to have the other boarders walk in on this and really embarrass the kids?"

Her authoritative voice caught everyone else unawares, bringing an abrupt end to the squabbling. Good, as the pause enabled her to continue in her usual eccentric timbre. "We'd accomplish so much more with a more civilized setting," Gertie suggested. "Let's meet at the dinner table in a bit so we can talk it out and smoke the peace pipe."

And such was Gertie Shortman's ability to weaponize her eccentricity that most of those whom she had addressed were left nodding in agreement as a reflex. Those that didn't, were denied an opportunity to object when she cackled loudly and pronounced: "Very good, my lovelies! Onward then to the kitchen!"

And as the adults cleared the room, Gertie took a glance at Arnold and Helga and issued one last command. "Kimba, put your pants back on! Eleanor, be sure to wash your face!"

And for all the bizarreness confronting Miriam and Olga, they still found time to turn to each other and ask simultaneously: "Who's Eleanor?"

"A pill bottle?" a disbelieving Helga asked. "We're all here because of a pill bottle?"

She was reacting to Miriam's answer to her initial questions: "Just how did you know to look here? I mean shouldn't you be at home zonked out on the couch after who knows how many smoothies?"

The questions drew gasps from the Shortman side of the table with Gertie redoubling her call for civility. On Helga's side, it was Olga voicing the bulk of the disapproval. All of it, in fact, as Miriam remained eerily calm in the wake of the harsh words. Perhaps her answer had been too vague. Perhaps more detail was called for.

"Well you see, Helga," the Pataki matriarch continued explaining, "the pill bottle was just the beginning."

It was.

The process of elimination was quick. B wouldn't go anywhere near Miriam's medication, so that left Helga. It churned Miriam's stomach to think that Helga could (a) know of the existence of her birth control pills, (b) know what they were for, and (c) have cause to use them.

Besides the pill issue, there was other evidence. Nothing concrete; circumstantial at best. But it all added up. All week Helga would be less grumpy in the morning when leaving for school, as well as when she came home. Plus she had slightly more spring in her step. Most telling was that glow about her, which Miriam recognized instantly as how she herself would feel when she and Bob were still making love as opposed to nowadays when they were merely having sex. Really, Miriam Pataki should have been heartened by these improvements in Helga's demeanor. Instead, she was suspicious of their underlying cause.

Helga, tending toward chipper?

There was a boy involved, but who? And would they get careless? Would Helga…?

Miriam tried asking once, trying to be more approachable by complimenting Helga on her improved mood. Alas, that was her only chance, and she blew it. Helga must have seen right through her pretext because she blew off the question, citing important homework. Since then, no dice. Helga was always too quick to be lured into a meaningful conversation. She'd even feign being sound asleep when Miriam would enter her room at night and attempt a discussion.

It was hopeless. Miriam knew something about Helga was off, and Helga knew that Miriam knew. Furthermore, Helga was fully aware of Miriam's complete inability to be the bad guy and would be playing that to her advantage. An ally was required. But not B. Hell no, not B! He'd blow a gasket.

So during the week, Miriam Pataki picked up the phone and rang Alaska, explaining the circumstances and her suspicions. Come early Sunday morning, Olga arrived to support her mother. Bob was surprised by her visit, but glad all the same to have his favorite person in the world come visit home. He was also kept in the dark as to the true nature of Olga's visit.

"Yeah," Helga interrupted the story, "it would be hilarious if you made Bob pop a blood vessel by telling him why Olga was really here."

Her statement was worthy of a rebuke from Arnold. "Helga! Why would you wish something like that on your father!"

"Oh, Arnold," tsked Helga. "The way you speak, you make it sound like a bad thing."

Arnold was ready to continue with his rebuke, but Helga cut him off. "Look!" she said, sounding to all as if she was already losing interest. "If we're just going to bicker, we can do it on our own time! How about we let the master detectives complete their epic story?"

"Helga!" repeated Arnold. "That's no way to talk to your family!"

"Whatever!" Helga shrugged him off. "Let's not deny them their moment of glory."

Strangely to the Shortmans, Miriam calmly let Helga's barbs once again bounce off her while Olga was now eying her sister more in disappointment than in anger. What was wrong with these two? Were they machines? How come their reactions were now so subdued? Were they that out of touch with reality? And not in the "good" way like Phil and Gertie were. They at least still had their self-awareness, or so they kept telling themselves.

Whatever, those were questions perhaps for after Miriam said the second half of her say.

So the team was assembled, ready to pounce on Helga. Only one problem: no Helga. She'd left that morning for who knew what, and she hadn't yet returned home.

Where can she be? That was the jackpot question.

Then Olga had an idea. She recalled observing in her student teacher days how Helga was as difficult and as antisocial as ever at school. However, she did seem closest to one particular girl in her homeroom class. Phoebe, Phoebe Heyerdahl if her memory served her well. It did, for one does not become as academically accomplished as Olga Pataki without at least possessing superior recognitive abilities.

Maybe, opined Olga, she'd be the best starting point in the search for Helga. A quick lookup in the phonebook, fortunately, found only a handful of Heyerdahl listings in Hillwood, with only one listing for their particular neighborhood. A visit was in order, not a phone call. A phone call could tip Helga off and give her a head start.

Forty-five minutes later, and they were apologetically told by Kyo and Reba Heyerdahl that they had missed Helga. Nevertheless, the Heyerdahls did find the Patakis' visit rather curious, given that Helga had announced upon her departure that she was heading home.

And how long ago was that?

Oh, about an hour or so.

At that point, Phoebe was summoned to provide clarity and insight – maybe even some truth – to the matter. Initially, all she did was repeat what Helga had previously announced. But Phoebe's parents seemed to sense – as did the Pataki women – she knew more than the information she was conveying. Thus, her father with his gentle yet persuasive sternness cornered her into providing more insight.

Phoebe could only relent. Not even her loyalty to Helga would overcome the authority of her parents. She told them of her earlier conversation with her best friend and how the conversation revolved around this boy in whom she has lately been showing a great deal of interest.

Which boy, the Patakis asked.

His name is Arnold Shortman.

The name sounded familiar according to Miriam. At which point Phoebe pointed out that he was the boy who brought Helga home some time ago when she was beaned. Oh yes, Miriam remembered. A helpful young man who always seemed to have time for Helga no matter the circumstances. Olga also weighed in by noting what an earnest and sincere pupil he was at P.S. 118.

Before they allowed themselves to be distracted by Arnold's list of virtues, there was now the newly considered matter of whether or not Helga could be visiting him. Again, Phoebe was asked. The adults noted the reluctance with which she answered the question, as well as her meandering, non-committal answer itself.

"Yes, there is sound logic to your hypothesis. I daresay that Arnold may be as good a stop as any for information on Helga's whereabouts."

Oh yes, she knew more than she was conveying. She had to help the adults, she also didn't want to come across as having betrayed Helga.

Miriam and Olga had one last question: "Where does Arnold live?"

They left the Heyerdahl parents ready with more questions for their daughter, no doubt about the full extent of what she was concealing about Helga. Nothing the Patakis didn't already suspect. Onward, then, to the Sunset Arms!

"So you're good at playing detective," jibed Helga. "Bravo! Bravo indeed, Miriam!"

"Helga!" Arnold's voice cut through the blonde girl's runaway anger. "That's your mother you're talking to!"

"Please, Helga," scolded Olga. "Even if you don't respect yourself or your situation, at least try to respect those around you!"

Even Phil weighed in with: "Missy, we need all hands on deck if we're getting anywhere with this conversation!"

But Helga remained defiant. "What's there to discuss?" she challenged the elder Shortman. "Arnold and I were caught in a compromising position and now you want to spin a tale as to why I'm at fault and he is totally innocent!"

"Eleanor!" Gertie blurted out. She then continued in a tone balancing sternness and nurturing: "No one is blaming you two for anything. What you did was…it was surprising to say the least. But…" – oh, she had to tread carefully now – "it was just you two being curious, that's all. And besides…in the eyes of the law, you did nothing wrong."

"Don't encourage them!" Olga was quick to lambast the nonagenarian. "Law or no law, we can't have children do things like this that they're not yet ready for!"

But Helga was ready with another dose of venom for Olga: "I suppose that's why you've never been laid in all your life, Big Sister!"

"THAT'S THE VOICE!" someone exclaimed from outside. "THAT'S THE GHOST!"

The voice caught those in the kitchen unawares. A collection of rapid footfalls followed, bearing down on the room. Another voice was heard, gruffer than the original: "Oskar, what the hell are you on this time?"

No sooner had its bearer questioned Oskar's state of mind when the Czech expat barged into the kitchen with Ernie and Mister Huynh in tow. They arrived only to be confronted by annoyed glares from the Shortmans and bemused stares from Miriam and Olga. Helga was different; she chose apathy. "Good day, Gentleman," she greeted with no particular enthusiasm. "I don't suppose you'd want to be a part of this disaster movie."

But Oskar was more interested in vindication than in participation. "YOU!" he yelled, pointing at Helga. "It was you!"

"Oskar, shut the fuck up! There are visitors here!" warned Ernie. He then realized that he had cursed in the presence of minors and quickly changed to a more contrite voice. "Erm…sorry, Kids. Sorry you had to hear that. My bad…"

But Olga and Miriam weren't interested in his apology, or even his presence. Instead…"Excuse me, Mister," Olga asked the wizened old gentlemen who'd led the charge, "but did you just suggest that Helga" – to whom she pointed – "was here before?"

And in the wake of desperate gesturing by Phil and Gertie for him not to continue, Oskar Kokoshka provided his witness. "Well you see, Lady," he began, "last Friday I'm here minding my own business in the evening. Next thing I know, I'm hearing these strange sounds inside the building. I think I'm hearing ghosts, but no one believes me when I talk about it the next day."

"That's because it's a stinking pile of horsesh—" Ernie interrupted before himself being interrupted.

"That's enough!" Olga cut him off before turning back to Oskar. "We're interested in your story, so please continue."

So he did, being stopped many times to repeat a statement or clarify another. He spoke of hearing what sounded like otherworldly moaning that day. The moaning seemed to come from inside the walls, from the direction of Arnold's room. And no, he didn't think to investigate because he was too shit-scared.

"And whatever it was," concluded Oskar Kokoshka, "it sounded like her" – pointing at Helga – "and it was calling out Arnold's name many times."

And that was it. He'd said the say he'd been denied saying. Well, not all of it. There was one final point to be made. "I tried telling them the next morning what I heard, they said I'm losing it, talking shit, trying to duck out of paying rent. They said I'm scaring Arnold, but the ghost must have gotten to him."

"And why would you say that?" Miriam asked, her curiosity and Olga's well and truly piqued.

"He seemed out of it. He looked dazed, like he just saw something he never saw before. It must have been so bad he forgot to zip up his pants. The old man even pointed it out!" – at that, he motioned to Phil – "It's crazy, right?"

And that was that. A lengthy and tense silence followed as different quarters reacted differently to what had been spoken. The elder Shortmans stared murderously at Oskar, while the Pataki women felt their indignation rise as they combined Oskar's testimony with what they already knew.

As for the children, they were left blushing incandescently. Even Helga. Her smugness, her indifference: vanished. OK, she and Arnold being intimately involved was no longer a secret, but at least that liaison within the wall was still a private matter. Or at least…it had been until that damn fool just blabbed it out. She could see the cogs turning in Miriam and Olga's heads: only a matter of seconds before they'd draw that dreaded conclusion. Even Arnold was looking worried at that prospect.

Phil was next to speak.

"Listen, Fellas," he announced, calmly at first – almost genially – to the demolition man and the Vietnamese line cook. What he said next, however, was delivered in a steely voice promising great vengeance and furious anger: "If that bum isn't out of this room and out of my sight in the next five seconds, then all three of you will be out on your asses!"

Oskar Kokoshka was out in three seconds, hurriedly escorted out by his cohorts amid promises of dinner wherever he felt like it. Not that the Pataki ladies were particularly concerned, given that he'd just served his purpose with them. Armed with his speculative insight, Olga was now eying Helga with renewed shock and disapproval. Miriam's reaction, by contrast, was one of disappointment together with what looked like a sense of inevitability.

Olga took it upon herself to commence the rebuking. "Helga, is it true? Did you and Arnold have sex?"

And Helga, trying to regain her brave front, responded accordingly: "Well, since you already know the answer, Big Sister, yes we did!"

Arnold's reddening intensified at Helga's answer. "Helga..!"

"What?" Helga questioned her paramour. "Did I just lie? Come on, Arnoldo! It's not like either of us didn't enjoy it! You enjoyed it! You said so yourself the next day!"

"Helga, that's not the point!" chided Arnold.

"Why hide it?" Helga countered. "They know anyway, now they want to make us feel ashamed about it! Ashamed!"

"Helga…" Arnold attempted another engagement, but Helga seemed done with him for now as she focused on Olga. "And you, Big Sister!" she snarled. "Who the hell are you to warn me about sex and love when your own love life has been a disaster! I'll bet you didn't even have any rebounds since Doug left you at the altar!"

At this point, the Shortmans had decided to hold their tongues for now. Whatever the current underlying issue was, it had history and it spanned well beyond two children having sex. Best to let the Patakis air out whatever grievances they saw fit.

"Helga," began Olga, trying her best at a calm façade, "you are still a girl. Spreading your legs for a boy won't suddenly make you a mature adult."

"What's the matter, Olga?" taunted Helga, her words now corrosive with all the venom they were conveying. "Jealous that I got laid more in one week than you did in five years?"

What happened next was to be remembered indelibly by Arnold. He'd forever known Olga to be ever doting toward her "Baby Sister". Thus, it was with much shock that he and his kin watched her turn to Helga and abandon any attempt at decorum. Her expression became a savage scowl the likes of which he never thought to be within her capabilities. His shock – and his grandparents' – was further compounded when Olga swiftly raised a hand and slapped Helga across the cheek. The sheer impact left the blonde girl nursing a searing cheek and looking at her aggressor not in anger, but more in confusion and shock and dismay. Tears were starting to well in her eyes: that was the shock kicking in.

The shock. It was all-pervasive in the room. It was in the loud gasps from the Shortmans as they voiced their reactions. It was in Olga's frozen look of horror once she realized what she had just done. It was even in Miriam's outburst.

"Olga, how could you?"

More silence as the rest seemed to process how best to respond. The elder Shortmans had decided on disapproval and were moving to act on the decision when…

"Ohmigod ohmigod!"

It was Olga, stuttering a desperate apology.

"Helga I'm sorry! I didn't mean to…I-it just happened…I don't know how OH MY GOD I'M SO SO SORRY!"

With that, she reached out to Helga to hold and comfort her. Not to be as—

"Get off me!" Helga yelled tearfully as she writhed and wriggled away from Olga's arms. Olga kept trying for an embrace, only to have her arms swatted away in rejection. Eventually, Olga ceased her efforts and simply stared silently at Helga. Shock still colored her expression, her realization of what she'd just done.

"Sucks, doesn't it?" jeered Helga, her tears at war with her anger.

And all that Olga could say in response was: "What?"

"That deep down, under all the overachieving, the pretty face, the daddy's-little-girl exterior…you're still just a Pataki."

"What?"

"How does it feel, Big Sister, knowing that you and I share the same DNA? Knowing that every time you look in the mirror, you realize you're only ever one bad day, one failure away from being just like your pathetic little bitch of a 'baby sister'!"

Her rendition of "baby sister" was especially derisive, meant to mock Olga and all her delusions of being all about her family. But before that particular conversation could continue, Phil hastily attempted an intervention: "Whoa there, Missy! Let's not say anything we might regret!" Although deep inside, he feared that line was crossed long ago, and that Helga was well past the point of caring about regret and consequences.

"Eleanor," Gertie tried with a gentler tone. "It was an accident and she's sorry. After all, she's still family and—"

Wrong choice of words!

"Family what?" sneered Helga, so overcome by anger that she was rejecting even Gertie's peacemaking attempts. "I'll tell you what family is! Family is only being loved if you manage to stroke your blowhard father's ego. Family is being so hated by your mother that she'd rather spend her days in a drunken stupor than even look your way!"

And just as it seemed like the Shortmans couldn't be any more surprised, they were. Helga had built up a full head of steam laying out her familial atrocities that would yield to nothing and nobody. Still, Miriam remained inert against all the flying accusations, though her expression was saddening more and more.

Again, Olga presumed to answer on behalf of the Patakis. "You're wrong, Helga! I've never thought of you that way! We all love you at home!"

For all the good it did.

Helga fixed her with another thousand-yard glare before renewing her vitriol with: "Like you're one to talk, Miss Perfect! Always the center of attention! Always the achiever! Always the favorite, the one who can do no wrong! I bet it was a dark day when you learned I was on my way! No more having all the attention to yourself! You'd now have to push me aside to get noticed!"

"Helga…"

The soft-spoken voice of Miriam was enough to stop even Helga in her tracks. All eyes were now focused on the Pataki matriarch, her expression a faint smile carrying with it years of melancholy.

"Please, Helga. That's enough."

Helga wasn't interested. "Enough? Now that you're under the spotlight, now it's enough?"

Surprisingly to all, Helga didn't seem to be speaking from a place of hatred. No, the elder Shortmans could sense that these words and those still to come were those of a scared girl trying her best to be accepted by someone who'd love her and accept her. Indeed, that seemed the case as Helga launched into another verbal assault. Only this time, the more she spoke, the shakier her voice became and the stronger the tears started streaming down her cheeks.

"Miriam, what would it have taken for you to notice me? To love me? Just to accept me as family? Maybe we could have avoided all of this! Maybe we could have had a shot at being a functioning family! Maybe I wouldn't need to turn to the first boy who showed me kindness. Maybe…" – she paused as she started choking up – "…maybe I wouldn't be cruel to him just to reject him before he could reject me. And if through some miracle he accepted me, maybe I wouldn't be so scared of losing him that I'd try anything not to let him slip away. Even sex!"

When she was done, she looked across the table at Arnold. "Oh Arnold. You were always there for me, and this is how I treated you! How can I ever hope for your forgiveness?"

There was nothing obvious in his expression. No disappointment. No anger. If not those, then what? What?

Just the same gentle understanding that he'd always shown her, that's what. "Helga, there's nothing to be sorry for. I'm just as much to blame for this as you. And I'd do it again if given the chance."

He couldn't sense his grandparents allowing themselves a mischievous nod to each other. What he did sense was the ire now in Miriam's voice: "Young Man, you'll do no such thing!"

More fuel to Helga's fire, as she focused on the older woman.

"That's my point, Miriam! Why does he get chewed out while you sit there pretending I don't exist? How come he must change his ways, while I'm considered a lost cause? How come you don't want me, Miriam? How come you don't love me?"

With that, Helga Geraldine Pataki suddenly felt overwhelmed by the weight of the emotion. She could no longer fight the urge. Those gathered watched her drop her head into her hands and begin quietly sobbing.

In between the sobs, she weakly repeated one of her questions: "…how come you don't want me…?"

Anyone gathered around the table would have offered Helga a Kleenex; Miriam was first as she moved to dry the blonde girl's tears. To everyone's continued surprise, Helga offered no resistance, allowing Miriam to tend to her.

"Helga, Sweetie…" Miriam spoke as a prelude to an explanation.

Miriam softly and non-judgmentally explained how Helga was always a handful, a quality that manifested at the very beginning when she first announced her presence with severe symptoms. The morning sickness was especially brutal, the chronic fatigue and cramping borderline debilitating. To say nothing of the constant moodiness that would have been at least equal to any of B's foulest moods.

She knew what those symptoms meant, but to be certain she needed confirmation from a medical professional. So off to the clinic for the test. The result was as Miriam Pataki had suspected even before the doctor delivered it:

"Olga, you're pregnant."

And that will do for this chapter, my wonderful, magnificent readers! As always, thank you so much for your clicks and (hopefully) your investment. I suppose I'll be devoting much of the space here to explain how I came to the twist at the end. Very well...

Firstly this story is based on a concept by The J.A.M. in which Helga is flung into what quickly came to be known as a Bizarro Universe. Think of these as Hey Arnold universes with one or two significant fundamental changes. What you just read was my take on a bizarro universe, thus (hopefully) making this story, and its setting, worthy additions to the Awakeverse.

That's the why. The how was just as straightforward, involving little more than a visit to the Hey Arnold Fandom wiki. Said wiki estimates the age difference between Olga and Helga at between 11 and 13 years. So I considered this data and thought to myself: It's plausible!

Unfortunately, real life is rife with its own examples. A town nearby where I live, once "boasted" about having the world's highest teen pregnancy rate. And in some quarters, those girls would be considered late bloomers. I knew of a girl in my neighborhood who by 13 was pregnant with her second child. So there is plenty of real-world precedent for the events depicted in this story. I'm also reminded of a colleague of my father whom the world thought had four daughters. However, it eventually came to light that the youngest was actually his granddaughter, begotten by his eldest and made to believe that her mother was her sister. Yay, real life. I don't always like it; I just let it influence me.

Come to think about it, this could have made for one hell of a season finale if The Patakis ever saw the light of day.

And no, he is not the father. This ain't SVU, folks!

Anyhow...on to this chapter's Tidal List:

Siren Song – Bat For Lashes

In Too Deep – Genesis

Dear Abbie (One Night of Passion) – Little Sister

Know By Now – Zoë Graham

And that will be it for now, dear readers. Until next time, stay safe and take nothing for granted.