Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and 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: Despite the bitterness and resentment, maybe a way forward.
With that said, new chapter in 3...2...1...
10. Corollaries
Helga's expression flew in the face of Arnold's expectations. She looked…she looked conflicted. Neither happy nor sad, but serious, and most definitely sleep-deprived. Her approach conveyed both purpose and urgency, of wanting to share sensitive news meant for his ears only. That much he sensed through her body language, though whether her news was good or bad remained a mystery to him.
Whatever the news, it would not be divulged at that moment, as Helga greeted him in a distracted tone: "Morning, Footballhead."
"Um…hi, Helga," Arnold ventured, unsure of what tone would be most appropriate. That was the sum total of his contribution toward the conversation, and indeed of the conversation itself as Helga whizzed past him.
"Sorry Arnoldo," she hurriedly explained. "Gotta be somewhere else. Talk to you later."
Arnold could only watch as she disappeared into the building. Having become as intimately familiar with his one-time nemesis as he had, he knew when to intervene and when she needed space. Right now it was a case of the latter.
"Is that trouble in paradise I'm sensing?"
Rhonda's inquisitive voice crept up on him, as did she when he turned towards the voice to find its owner. Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, fashion doyenne of P.S. 118 as well as its most feared gossipmonger. Giving her even a suspicion of a juicy nugget was like chumming shark-infested waters.
"I mean," continued Rhonda as she began circling Arnold, examining him from head to toe, looking for all the world as if she was appraising a life-sized sculpture, "is there any reason she'd brush you off so quickly?"
It was one of Rhonda's tactics in obtaining incriminating morsels. She'd keep moving around the quarry as she spoke. The constant movement would disorientate the victim, who'd be so concerned about keeping her in their sights that they'd most likely forget about protecting whatever secret she was hoping to unearth. Arnold wasn't immune to this tactic, as the best response he could marshal was: "Rhonda, it's not what you think!"
He most certainly would have elaborated on the response, but fate granted him a respite by allowing Rhonda to keep talking. She couldn't help it: she wanted to show off her superior deduction skills.
"I'd have thought when she patted your tush on the football field that you two were at second base already." she continued as she kept flitting around Arnold. "Don't tell me she's already bored with you!"
With that, she stopped to clutch her chest in an arch display of shock.
"Maybe you were a bit too vanilla for her," Rhonda resumed her monologue in a more pensive timbre. "I mean, don't get me wrong, Arnold. You're such a sweet guy, and you're still très cool. But I just wouldn't consider you boyfriend material like Helga might have. Such a pity for her. And after she went out of her way to push me and Curly together. She must have thought she was being oh so sneaky, treating me like a rival for your affections. As if she thought I was after you. As if, Arnold, as…if!"
Arnold felt trapped. He wanted to tell Rhonda that he and Helga were very much together. But contradicting any of what Rhonda had just deduced would only spur her on toward the truth, a truth he wasn't keen on publicly disclosing. Saying nothing wouldn't help either; it would only make her believe that whatever she'd deduced about him and Helga was true. What a pickle!
Fortunately again for Arnold, deliverance had arrived.
"You don't sound like you mind being with Curly," Phoebe's voice cut in as she approached hand in hand with Gerald. "One might even infer from your tone that she did you a huge favor with her actions!"
Just like that, Phoebe's words turned the tables. Rhonda stopped moving, having instantly been placed on the back foot, struggling for an answer. Phoebe had deftly used the raven-haired beauty's own tactic against her, that of stealth and ambush to extract the pertinent du jour details. Rhonda may have written the book on that tactic and many others. However, right there, right then, Phoebe was sounding like she'd memorized every page.
With back-up from Gerald. "It is strange, isn't it, Rhonda?" began Number 33. "Before Helga got beaned, you were all about how you couldn't stand the little freak. After she got beaned and hooked you two up…"
He left it at that to let her derive whatever conclusion she might. Not to be, as she instantly adopted a flustered look before going on the defensive. "Now see here, Gerald!" she began most indignantly. "Not once since then have I even hinted that I like that little weasel!"
"Nor have I ever heard you deny it," Phoebe was quick to remark. "So for the sake of absolute clarity, which is it? Did Helga do you a disservice or a favor with Curly?"
Rhonda was stumped. Indeed, Helga's chicanery had led to her getting to know Curly a lot better. She'd unearthed a sensitive, vulnerable – not to mention more palatable – side beneath the wannabe serial killer persona he'd publicly project. As it turned out, the act was mostly a defence mechanism, a handy excuse for explaining away why he wasn't all that popular a person. Beyond merely getting to know Curly, Rhonda had found herself actively bonding with him, much to her surprise. They shared a few similarities, chief of which was their love of attention and a surprising ability to be frank and open when nobody was looking.
Then there was the kissing. Oh god, why did he have to be such a good kisser? Why did kissing that conniving little ferret have to be so damn enjoyable? But no way in hell was she openly going to proclaim that this nascent relationship was the result of Helga's manipulation.
Thus did Rhonda Wellington Lloyd instantly abandon any further attempt to get Arnold to spill any beans. Verily, she beat a hasty – yet no less graceful and stylish – exit. "Sorry, but I have other places to see and other people to be," she announced in a tone that perfectly matched her hurried canter.
Arnold, Gerald and Phoebe watched the socialite beat her retreat before dispensing the pleasantries. Phoebe was first to speak as she smiled a self-satisfied smile at Arnold and said plainly: "You're welcome, Arnold."
"Morning, Gerald. Phoebe," Arnold exchanged greetings with his friends in the appropriate fashion.
Phoebe: formally.
Gerald: with the familiar handshake.
"So where's Helga?" asked Phoebe. "She wasn't at our usual rendezvous. I don't suppose you'd know why that was the case?"
Arnold would have blushed because of the pointedness of Phoebe's question but for knowing that she was aware of how his relationship with Helga had evolved. Her tone reflected a reluctant acceptance of this new status quo, but also a readiness to give him and her best friend hell over it.
"Come now, Phoebe!" Gerald intervened. "It's too early to start giving him the third degree over what happened with Helga! At least out in the open!"
Gerald sounded aware at least of Phoebe's role in the previous night's events. Arnold surmised that Phoebe must have told him about the Pataki women's visit, which then launched an exchange of speculation between the two that lasted for the duration of their walk to school. Anyway, Gerald's remark earned him a glare from his half-pint girlfriend, who after some pause for thought softened her expression as she had to concede that his points were all valid.
"Very well, Gerald," she yielded. "In cases such as this, discretion must be the top priority. So what say we head to homeroom?"
As they walked to their destination, it occurred to Arnold: "Actually, Helga is here. She arrived a little before you guys."
"Is that a fact now?" joked Gerald. "And she just left you hanging like that? Man, that's cold, even for her!"
"No, it's not like that!" Arnold hastily clarified. "She seemed more hurried than anything else. I mean, a lot was said last night, and she needs space."
Phoebe's interest was immediately piqued by that last sentence. "I don't suppose you'll divulge any of those talking points?"
Arnold havered before responding to Phoebe: "Look, I think it will be better if you hear it directly from her. It's very personal and I don't think it's my place to tell you."
"My man!" Gerald whispered in dread. "You saying there's a kid on the way?"
"NO!" Arnold yelled back, mortified that Gerald would even consider such a possibility. The outburst briefly attracted the attention of many onlookers. It was brief because said onlookers decided that getting to their classes on time took priority over whatever tiff this trio was having.
The awkward situation that had just been avoided was not lost on Gerald, who quickly apologized for his tactlessness.
Phoebe remained focused on the topic of Helga with: "Very well, Arnold. A good point. Whatever happened yesterday is of her making and is therefore hers to disclose." She then shot Arnold a stern lour. "But make no mistake, Arnold Shortman," she continued. "One way or another, I'll have my answers about yesterday's events. After risking the trust and goodwill of my parents for the sake of my loyalty to Helga, nothing less will suffice."
Come recess, and Phoebe was well on her way to getting those answers. Along with Arnold and Gerald, gathered as they were inside the auditorium by Helga's invitation. The Pataki girl had surprised them all with notes slipped inside their lockers inviting them to the locale. The invitations had some stipulations, chief among which was not to broach the topic with her, among themselves, or any other being – living or dead – before the gathering. Next, invitees were to ensure that they weren't followed to the venue. Finally, the invitees were to dispose of their notes after reading: discretion was, after all, the name of the game. Any deviation from those stipulations would carry a penalty of gruesome – yet startlingly creative – bodily violation.
Come recess and the quartet was on the auditorium's stage, seated backstage and away from any nosey passers-by. Arnold and Helga were seated beside each other, facing a similarly seated Gerald and Phoebe.
Come recess and…
"Whoa, that's just fucked up!" gasped Gerald.
Phoebe would not have vocalized her conclusion as colorfully as that, but instead of disapproving of Gerald's vocabulary, she found herself agreeing with his sentiment. "Indeed," she heard herself squeak. "You mean to say that Olga is actually your mother?"
To which both Arnold and Helga nodded in the affirmative, convincing their friend that her hearing wasn't defective. Helga had just told Gerald and Phoebe about her ordeal and Arnold's at The Sunset Arms the night before, and almost every detail leading up to the big reveal. Her version of events had begun in Arnold's room where she and the footballhead had spent all afternoon "just making out and yukking it up".
"You sure that was all that happened?" Gerald asked Arnold with more than a hint of nudge nudge wink wink.
"Arnold, don't answer that question!" interrupted Phoebe, her tone promising dire consequences for noncompliance.
"What?" protested Gerald. "I was just curious!"
"Well it was bad enough when Arnold shared all those graphic, sordid details with you!" Phoebe rebutted. "We'll have no more fuel for your prurient curiosity!"
"But Babe…" Gerald attempted to appeal to his girlfriend who wasn't having any of it. "This is something neither of us is familiar with! And isn't gathering knowledge of something you don't know a good thing?"
"Don't 'But Babe' me, Gerald Johanssen!" Phoebe snapped back. She then seemed to realize that her response made her sound testier than she was. She took a beat to steady herself and resume more calmly with: "Look…granted, we're in the midst of an unprecedented situation…and in some perverse way, I can understand why you'd want to acquire more knowledge. My problem is not so much the knowledge as it is how you plan on using it."
Just like that, a hush descended over the gathering. Even Helga – who had called the meeting in the first place and had more still to reveal – found herself taken in by the drama unfolding opposite her and Arnold. So too was Phoebe, who apparently also had forgotten that she and Gerald had an audience.
"Tell me, Gerald," Phoebe further catechized, her voice soberer. "Has learning from Arnold about his and Helga's penis-and-vagina exploits left you feeling left out? Are you looking to follow in his footsteps?"
Phoebe's delivery was deliberately unfiltered, meant to discomfort her boyfriend. It worked beautifully on the boys and even elicited a grimace from Helga.
"Um, Phoebe?" Gerald squirmed as he tried deflecting the question. "Can't we have this conversation in private?"
"And yet…not twenty seconds ago you were 'just curious' for more salacious material!" Phoebe countered. "And my question still stands. Has hearing from Arnold about his and Helga's exploits left you feeling left out? Do you now consider our relationship too chaste for your liking?"
Gerald next turned to Helga, begging for an intervention. "Hey, Pataki! A little help here? Isn't this your little get-together she's butting in on?"
Surprisingly to all, Helga wasn't angered or annoyed by the distraction. One might even have gauged from her amused expression that she found the unfolding spectacle a welcome distraction. Arnold too, though his expression carried a hint of 'what monster have I awakened' to it.
Helga expressed her viewpoint: "No way, Geraldo! You lit the fuse, you handle the fallout! Just be glad you're among only your closest friends here!"
"Right!" proclaimed Phoebe, knowing that she had her best friend's support. "What manner of impure thoughts are you harboring about me? And exactly how far are you willing to go to act upon them?"
Gerald continued being floored by his girlfriend's directness. And yet for all her sternness, she didn't sound at all accusatory, so there was a chance of a civil conversation.
"Babe, you got it all wrong!" he began explaining. "Yeah, I am kinda jealous about Arnold. I mean, with his constant rotten luck with girls, there's no way he'd be the first to score."
"I…see," replied Phoebe, a bit too subdued for his liking or comfort. He was now thinking that his choice of words may not have been the best. Time to clarify and pray to whatever applicable god that he could salvage the situation.
"But…look, I won't lie…I have thought about …you know…you and me. But never if it will hurt you…and only if you're ready and not a moment before."
"Oh," Phoebe remained understated in her response. What was her deal? Was she mad at him or not?
"So Phoebe," Gerald reassured solemnly, "you don't have to worry about me acting on my thoughts."
Phoebe remained unmoved after his declaration, looking neither sad nor gladdened. Finally, she spoke: "That's…good to know, Gerald, and make no mistake. I do trust you…but…I'm afraid it's not just you acting on what you know that frightens me."
Not just Gerald's, but everyone else's interest was aroused. Even Arnold had momentarily abandoned wanting to remind Helga of her important announcement in favor of this new development that had suddenly become riveting viewing.
"Then what, Pheebs?" queried Gerald. "Tell me so I can help make things right!"
Everyone witnessed Phoebe become suddenly reticent after being put back on the spot. She had to relent when she realized that all eyes would remain on her until she gave a satisfactory answer.
"Well…" she was forced to concede. "The thing is…that I'm just as frightened by how I would act on what I knew!"
A pause, as Arnold and especially Gerald, were rendered speechless by Phoebe's confession.
Helga, however…
"I knew it!" she smugly blurted out. "I knew it all along! Underneath all that prissiness, you're just as interested in getting it on, aren't you?"
"Helga!" squawked Phoebe, her face now rutilant from sudden embarrassment. Some seconds passed as she awkwardly gathered her thoughts, attempting a rational, emotionally detached explanation. When nothing was forthcoming, she resorted to: "OK, OK, I'll admit it! I'm aware of the pitfalls of sex, but after you confessed how good it felt, and even factoring in what happened to your sister…" – and a deep breath – "against my better judgment, I too have had my curiosity!"
The boys reacted differently to Phoebe's admission. Arnold suddenly felt uncomfortable at the prospect of hearing more of Phoebe's thoughts on the matter. Gerald…he'd have been overjoyed by the news, if not for the presence of Arnold and Helga. This is why he offered his thoughts at a gingerly pace.
"Phoebe, does this mean—"
That was as far as he got, as Phoebe cut him off with another stern expression: "It means there's a possibility, Gerald Johanssen! And I'd much rather we leave it at that!"
She was now understandably flustered. Confessing her thoughts to Gerald would have been nigh-on impossible in private, let alone with an audience. But now she needed to remove herself – and Gerald – from the spotlight. Thus, she turned to Helga and proclaimed: "Helga, recess won't last forever. If I remember correctly, you're not yet done with what you wanted to share with us."
"Dammit, Pheebs," Helga feigned disappointment. "And just when things were getting interesting…"
Phoebe was once more having none of it: "Nowhere near as interesting as what you wanted to tell us before this distraction, or so I'd wager!"
Phoebe's words brought Arnold back into action. He wanted the meeting back on track if only to avoid hearing more of Gerald and Phoebe's intimacy issues. "Helga, she has a good point," he highlighted. "You said there was more that happened after you left my place. And it must have been important if you wanted to call a meeting to tell us about it."
Now it was Helga's turn to be suddenly solemn as if she'd been having second thoughts over what she wanted to share with her friends.
"Helga, are you OK?" asked Arnold. "If you're not feeling up to it…"
Helga could only smile faintly at Arnold and muse: "Oh, my sweet, sweet Arnold. Always with my wellbeing on your mind."
She kept smiling as she continued: "If I don't get what I want to say off my chest now, I don't know when I'll get another chance."
Arnold felt his curiosity boil over: he needed to know how ominous the news was, how significant. "Helga, did something bad happen? With Olga and your grandparents?" (Oh boy, he'd have to get used to that new reality!)
Helga remained cryptic and vague. "It wasn't bad, Well, not really. Not totally."
"But something did happen, correct?" Phoebe weighed in. Gerald too. "Did it change how you look at your family? I mean…besides the whole Olga-is-your-moms thing."
Some irritation crept into Helga's voice for her next response. "Look, if you'll give me a chance, then I'll explain everything!"
Her friends complied with her request and soon thereafter she began. They were all mouth agape by the end of her story, which she capped off with: "So you see, it's not just that I've started respecting Olga. I…I…" – this was the most difficult admission she'd ever have to make – "…I'm not sure why, but I think I can start loving her as my mother."
And we are done with another chapter, beloved readers! This one felt more like a filler chapter but I was recently reminded that Helga's plans had involved not only Arnold. Well, you didn't think that Phoebe and Gerald would let matters rest after their discussions with their best friends, did you? Also...it's an excuse for me to write dialogue for Phoebe. I love her, I absolutely adore her! Her intellect and erratic neurosis combine for a goldmine of fast-paced dialogue peppered with a broad vocabulary and an expansive general knowledge.
But what happened over at the Patakis for Helga to have such a change of heart, I hear you ask. That will be the subject of the next chapter, I promise. I could have tacked it on here, but I feel it's more than worthy of its own chapter.
Finally, though you haven't been reviewing the story all that much, the traffic stats show that you have been reading it and for that, I can't thank you enough. Seriously, only "A Language We Both Understand" showed faster growth in readership.
And to the Guest review for the previous chapter, thank you indeed for your nuanced and insightful review. I hope you continue to enjoy the rest of the story just as much. May I also state that my writing doesn't necessarily reflect my views on whatever topic I reference? I pride myself on mostly being able to distance myself from a given personal viewpoint in order to better develop a story.
So anyway, this chapter's Tidal List:
Heart of Stone – Dave Stewart
Serious – Duran Duran
Love Is Stronger Than Pride – Sade
Fortress Around Your Heart – Sting
And that's it for the chapter. Thank you so much for sticking around. We'll meet again in the next chapter. Until then, stay safe and take nothing for granted.