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 for the man.
ICYMI: Lunch at the Patakis concludes with a side order of hope. Now if only Arnold wasn't too glad about it...
OK, you know the drill. Please enjoy.
17. Bark vs Bite
No one was complaining, but it didn't mean they'd stopped suspecting that something was off. They couldn't pinpoint how, but it felt as though a delicate balance between all known planes of existence had been disturbed. The disturbance was almost imperceptible, but it was there.
Helga.
Since her recovery after being beaned by Arnold, there had been changes, some that even a dim bulb like Harold could detect. Even he, for example, would note how she became less bitchy. She'd still chew him out over his blunders, but somehow her words didn't seem quite as harsh as before, her barbs a little less piercing. More amazing was how she'd let a little more of his blunders slide. Everyone else's too, but his especially. Not that she'd suddenly become a saint, but those around her slowly started realizing that they needn't walk on eggs as frequently when dealing with her.
Other observations were more nuanced. Depending on who was asked, she seemed lighter on her feet, her scowls seemed dialed down a notch or two. Even her posture seemed that bit healthier. Overall, she seemed to carry herself as if she was slowly starting to appreciate life in general.
Maybe something was off, maybe it all was a harbinger of the end of days. Whatever, fuck it. If it allowed a more peaceful coexistence with Helga G. Pataki, then no one was going to rock that boat. Especially in their games against Wolfgang and his goons. There she was particularly proactive in helping Arnold with the match tactics.
And good at it, too. Damn good.
In baseball, she had an unerring knack for predicting what pitches would come in what order. Her friends were skeptical at first of these predictions until the pitches arrived as foreseen. All doubt finally ceased when even Sid, armed with Helga's knowledge, was able to bunt some of Wolfgang's fiercest heaters. One such instance was made even more special when the bunt allowed Stinky to steal home from third and win the game.
Everyone was curious about how Helga had come into such prescience, though no one could build up the courage to ask her. Besides, payback was a glorious bitch on the sixth graders! Why question a winning streak against a group of foes who not too long ago had hunted them mercilessly and crammed them into trash cans? Ultimately, they wrote off Helga's newfound talent as a benign side effect of being beaned and let the matter rest at that.
Until that football game.
Football was no less successful for the gang thanks to Helga and her crystal ball. The games were not so much games as they were violent pantomimes with Wolfgang and co. as the perennial stooges. Most of the sixth graders' plays were successfully countered, and their growing frustration during each game brought spiteful smiles from the younger gang, even Eugene the eternal pacifist.
But that game, their most recent: memorable for everything but the football.
Not for the win. Not for Helga and Arnold's immaculate double-team on Wolfgang.
But when a smiling Helga G. Pataki patted Arnold Shortman on the ass, that proved to be the showstopper. After that, nothing else surrounding the game seemed as important to those who'd just witnessed that gesture. They'd recalled how Helga's open enmity toward Arnold had gone off the boil since the beaning, but enough for her to do something like this?
What…the fuck?
All eyes, even those of the sixth graders, were now focused on the two blondes, demanding an explanation. What they got instead was a scowl from Helga and a challenge.
"What? Wouldn't you after pulling that off?", with which she pointed at that: a dazed, prone, barely lucid Wolfgang. Her cohorts and rivals all gazed upon her and Arnold's achievement, which gave them serious pause for thought. Ultimately, they realized that a slightly more personable Helga was still not to be trifled with, and so accepted her explanation of the pat. Her achievement with Arnold was deemed worthy of such a celebratory gesture.
And yet…
Some still had their doubts, among them Rhonda Wellington Lloyd.
For all Helga's supposed good intentions, Rhonda couldn't help but think that there was a self-serving undertone to her actions. There had to be; this was still Helga G. Pataki, goddammit!
Maybe Helga and Arnold were now a thing. Granted, a secret thing maybe, but one nonetheless. Back then, did Helga consider Rhonda a potential rival for Arnold's affection? Was she clearing the field for a clear run at the blonde boy? Why would she? She'd frequently broadcast how much she hated his guts: was all that a smokescreen? In truth, did she love Arnold as much as she claimed to hate him?
And over and above everything, had her plan borne fruit?
Questions no one else was asking, but with Vishnu as her witness, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd would find those answers!
Her best shot would come on that Monday when she caught Arnold alone at P.S. 118 and saw an exploitable situation. Bless his heart, he's such a nice guy, and kinda cute too in his own way! But he's always so honest and forthright, he struggles to lie or keep secrets. And he was this close to spilling the tea on him and Helga when Phoebe had to butt in and silence the bellwether with her relationship with Curly.
A hasty retreat was in order, her mission abruptly aborted. She remained optimistic that she'd find another opening to get the goods from Arnold. What she didn't account for was that the goods might come to her instead. But that's exactly how events played out that Saturday afternoon when she was accompanying Nadine to a park for some or other bug-related activity. The last thing she expected was to see Arnold kissing Helga as warm and tenderly as he was.
OK, so she had her confirmation. Now what?
"Rhonda? Rhonda! Rhonda, what's the matter?"
Nadine was doing her best to coax a reaction from her best friend who had out of nowhere become rooted on the spot. Not only that, but she was also pointing into the distance while jabbering in a most unladylike manner. The bug girl followed the finger and was also surprised by the sight, though not at Rhonda's level.
In front of the duo stood Arnold hand in hand with Helga. The blonde couple had been alerted by the fashion diva's shriek and were now looking back at the source, apparently annoyed that a moment of enjoyment had been disturbed.
Nadine then watched as Arnold and Helga looked back at her and Rhonda, before exchanging looks and words between themselves. Next, they were approaching the two best friends. She read no malice in their expressions, more curiosity than anything else. There was hope that a cordial conversation may ensue.
It was to be.
"Oh hi, Nadine. Rhonda," greeted Arnold.
"Hi, you two," Nadine responded for both her and Rhonda, who remained catatonic in the wake of seeing Arnold and Helga acting like a bona fide couple.
"Hey, what's with the princess?" Helga cut in, forgoing the pleasantries. "Did she find out her nail color clashes with her eye shadow?"
"Well, no…" Nadine answered tentatively, only to be interrupted by the blonde hoyden. "Yeah, I get it," Helga continued. "A blunder like that would be traumatic for her."
"Hey, wait a minute!" Rhonda snapped, instantly freed from her paralysis. "As if I could ever commit such a faux pas!" she added with profound indignation.
"You're welcome, Princess," deadpanned Helga. "Welcome back to the land of the living."
"Don't you go changing the subject!" Rhonda blurted out, wanting to avoid any derailment. "What is the meaning of this?"
"This?" asked Helga while feigning ignorance and smiling ever so innocently. "Why Princess, what-ever are you talking about?"
"Don't you play dumb with me, Helga!" Rhonda scolded. "You know what I mean!"
"Helga," Arnold interjected, "I think she's talking about our kiss just now." His calm, almost shameless demeanor did little to allay the socialite's frustrations; in fact, it further bamboozled her. Shouldn't he have been embarrassed at being caught out? Wasn't this…thing…between him and Helga supposed to be a secret? Anyway, since he'd opened the door…
"Damn right it's about that!" Rhonda confirmed. "What's up with that? What's going on between you two?"
"What, are you saying you need thicker glasses, Rhondaloid?" Helga responded with a smirk. "You didn't see how Arnold and I were smacking lips?"
Helga's response gained its desired reaction: Rhonda was left seething. The onus was thus on Nadine to resume the conversation as the calmer, more reasonable voice. "We both did, Helga," she calmly confirmed. "That's why you found her the way you did."
"Nadine!" chided Rhonda.
"Well it's true, isn't it?" Nadine countered her best friend. "You were always going on about how you were convinced that they were now a couple!"
News to Helga, as evidenced by her next utterance: "She did?"
"Yes she did," confirmed Arnold. "She even asked me about it."
More news for Helga. "And when did she ask you?" she asked with a wary eye trained on Arnold. "What did she ask, Arnoldo? What did she want to know?" she pressed on. She then trained her suspicion on Rhonda. "Now look here, Miss Hold-The-Presses! You asked him because you think he's the weak link, didn't you?"
"You got that right!" answered Rhonda, surprising even Helga with her brazenness. "He's more likely to spill than you!"
"And why's it important to know that I and Arnold are all lovey-dovey? What, is Curly not enough for you? Do you fancy having Arnold too?"
Rhonda stammered for a rebuttal, only for Arnold to weigh in. "She doesn't, Helga. I promise. She thinks I'm too vanilla for her."
His statement elicited different responses. Nadine's rolled-back eyes betrayed a total lack of doubt that Rhonda could have spoken such words. Rhonda had a look of regret over having ever shared that specific opinion of Arnold with him. Both were expecting an epic fallout from Helga over the slight on her…well, if not her boyfriend, then surely her +1.
"And what's wrong with vanilla, hmm?" Helga challenged Rhonda.
Nadine then answered on her bestie's behalf. "She has a point, Rhonda. I mean, vanilla is the second most expensive spice in the world." The rest of the group turned her way with the unspoken question of just how the hell her statement was relevant to the conversation. A few moments passed before Helga decided there was merit to Nadine's words.
"Yeah, what she said," was the best she could manage.
"Whatever!" responded a still-irritated Rhonda. "We're not here to discuss expensive ice cream flavors or candle scents!"
Helga remained unaffected by Rhonda's irritation and sought to push her buttons a little harder. "Oh really, Princess? So you're more interested in this?"
With that, and without warning, she reached for Arnold's derriere for a cheeky little squeeze. Her mischief caused the footballhead to yelp and start in surprise. "Helga!" he chastised with a look slightly more playful than disproving. Rhonda's jaw dropped at the sight. Nadine's surprise merely escalated, though not to a mouth-agape extent.
"OH MY GOD!" exclaimed Rhonda. "She pinched his tush! Just like at the football! And it looks like he enjoyed it!"
"Yes, I saw that too," Nadine confirmed, not nearly as spiritedly.
And Rhonda, sensing no support from the bug girl, focused back on Arnold. "Well? Did you?"
All eyes shifted to Arnold, asking for any kind of response. Did Helga make him feel uncomfortable, or did he not mind it? Now, anyone expecting Arnold to shrink under such heavy scrutiny was in for a surprise. Granted, he was initially taken aback, but he gradually recovered with a mischievous smile creeping across his face.
"Well, you know…" he appeared to waver, before taking Helga by her closest hand. He then deftly and oh so elegantly raised her hand and twirled her arm. She must have been completely in tune with his intention because she freely spun toward him until her back was pressed against his chest. From there, it was a simple matter of wrapping his free arm around her waist to complete a tight embrace from behind.
"…she'll stop doing that when I stop doing this," he concluded.
This time, Nadine's surprise matched Rhonda's. "But…how?" the girl with the flaxen braids demanded, finally exhibiting more than a perfunctory level of interest in the matter.
"That will cost you a trip to Slausen's," proclaimed Helga. "Your treat, Princess," she added, knowing it was a price Rhonda was willing to pay.
Gerald Johanssen was a boy on a mission.
Since parting ways with Phoebe after walking her home, he had some choice words from his girlfriend on a constant loop in his mind.
"It means there's a possibility, Gerald Johanssen."
"I'd settle for somewhere more isolated."
"It…means…there's…a…possibility…Gerald Johanssen."
The words spurred him into finding an appropriate venue. Which was proving easier said than done over the remainder of Saturday afternoon. Many possibilities abounded, but each had at least one failing.
Too grotty.
Too unsavory.
No guarantee of privacy.
Too crime-ridden.
Too dangerous.
God, why now? Why now? Any other time, any given moment, he'd have no problem finding a suitable private venue. But this was different. This wasn't somewhere isolated to learn how to ride a bicycle. This wasn't a hidey-hole for secret sessions of The King Rules. This was not the – admittedly – well-appointed safehouse that the sixth graders had breached on Trash Can Day, which made its location common knowledge to the neighborhood. This was for him and Phoebe. It had to be right. Dammit, it had to be special.
Onward he trudged. But so help him, as long as there was daylight remaining, he'd find that ideal place. Only the best would do for Phoebe.
Onward he slogged.
They occupied a booth at Slausen's.
On one side of the table, Arnold was picking at a modest bowl of vanilla bean ice cream – go figure – topped with butterscotch sauce. Across from him sat Nadine with a lime milkshake while beside her, Rhonda was sipping on a glass of sparkling water flavored with a twist of lemon. Beside Arnold was Helga, taking full advantage of Rhonda's largesse and attacking an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink monstrosity. Verily, her fellow diners had long given up trying to list the components of this creation. Put succinctly, it comprised one scoop of every ice cream flavor [except strawberry – Slausen's prided themselves on using no artificial flavorings] buried beneath what looked like every topping kept in stock.
"And you're really going to eat all that," Rhonda commented drily, not knowing whether to be impressed or revulsed by Helga's ambition.
"Hey, a growing girl needs her energy, right?" Helga replied aloofly.
Even Nadine saw fit to weigh in. "Helga, don't they feed you at home?"
"Yes," added Rhonda, "the spacecraft burn less energy launching into space than what you're consuming right now!"
"Well, good for them," Helga shot back, immune to Rhonda's criticism. "They don't need the kind of energy that I need," she added, maintaining her air of nonchalance.
"I see," Rhonda mulled, slowly and very deliberately. It was enough to worry Arnold, who knew firsthand how good the fashionista was at reading and manipulating social cues. Helga remained oblivious to Rhonda even as the latter proceeded with: "And why exactly would you need so much energy? Could it perhaps involve Arnold, hmm?"
Oh shit.
Suddenly…she wasn't oblivious anymore. If it was possible to choke on ice cream, Helga's resulting gagging and sputtering gave very compelling evidence thereof. The realization arrived too late: she'd just sprung Rhonda's trap. She thought she'd take Rhonda for a ride while offering minimal disclosure. So self-assured was Helga G. Pataki that it didn't occur to her that her adversary might merely be biding her time while waiting for an opening. An opening which Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, P.S. 118's ace gossipmonger, further exploited with her next statement.
"He must be quite… how shall we say? Frisky? Tireless? I mean…he'd have to be to drain that much energy from you."
Fuck!
Rhonda on her A-game had an absolute knack for snaring her victims into having no choice but to confess their deepest, darkest secrets. Helga was aware of Rhonda's unspoken leverage over her. If she didn't spill, Rhonda would simply not pay for the treat. And if she fled, she'd only exacerbate matters by being branded a thief. And how badly would that complicate matters at school and at home?
Still, Rhonda had more to say. "Think about it! That butt grab implies so much about how far along you are. In fact…" – a strategic, contemplative pause – "...how far along are you two?"
At this point, Helga wanted nothing more than to tell Rhondaloid to go fuck herself, but before she could make that sentiment known, Arnold spoke up.
"OK, Rhonda, you win!" he conceded as he laid down his spoon to focus on the inquisitor. "You're right, he confessed. "Helga and I have become very…very…close over the past months. We got to know each other really well."
Oh boy, did he stir the hornet's nest!
He didn't notice Helga's glare all but asking him what the fuck he was doing. He focused instead on the two pairs of quirked eyebrows opposite him expressing growing interest. "Yes, I figured that out already, Arnold," Rhonda cut in. "I'm more interested in the details. As in how far along you two are."
"How…far?"
"Come now, Arnold! Surely even you would know what I'm talking about!" reminded Rhonda. "It's clear you've reached the kissing stage." From the blonde couple's flushed expressions, she gathered that she was on the money and that kissing had become a matter of routine for them. "Or maybe even beyond, mmm?"
Arnold felt Helga's hand on his thigh. He could sense the fear and desperation she was projecting. Please don't tell her! Please, Arnold! Please! He could hear those words in her touch. He placed a hand on hers, not to reassure her, but to signal that they had no choice. Back on Rhonda he focused.
"Look Rhonda, we didn't intend to go as far as we did. Things just…happened."
"Oh?" responded Rhonda.
"Oh my!" exclaimed Nadine, inexplicably drawn into this new development.
"When you say things just…happened…?" Rhonda pressed on. Maybe she was aware of it, maybe not, but her breathing had shallowed and her palms were lightly perspiring.
"Well yeah!" answered Arnold. "We got to know each other better after I beaned her. Over time, we became closer. Before we knew it, we were kissing. Then came the making out. And finally…"
He paused for a look at the commission of inquiry before him, to his sudden bemusement. Rhonda and Nadine were now leaning forward, their hands gripping the edge of the table in a case study of white-knuckle anticipation. Even Nadine, despite her general disdain for intruding on the privacy of others, was showing similarly shallow breathing and open-eyed expectation to those of her friend. Arnold even spotted her lightly licking her lips while waiting for him to continue.
"Yes, Arnold?" goaded Rhonda. "And finally…?"
"Well, we didn't want it to get this far," Arnold waffled. "Neither of us saw it coming!"
"What, Arnold?" Rhonda urged, her excitement not at all receding. "Saw what coming?"
"When we met each other's families!" he revealed. Helga went from fearful to confused at that answer. Nadine deflated somewhat. Rhonda had disappointment etched all over her face. "What?" she now demanded. "You're saying that was your next big step? Meeting each other's families? Your grandparents and her parents, that's the big deal?"
"Whoa there, Rhonda!" Arnold rebutted. "It's more than just that, I even got to meet her grandparents! We just had lunch with them over at her place today before we ran into you."
Helga suddenly felt a jumble of surprise and relief, as conveyed through her grip starting to relax on Arnold's thigh. She'd figured out where he was going with his answer, and she didn't object. Opposite them, Rhonda's disappointment was now palpable enough to have its own gravity field. That left Nadine to put aside any disappointment in Arnold's answer to ask a question of her own: "I see. And what does her family think of you two being together?"
"Well, her father doesn't have any say in the matter because her mother thinks we're an adorable couple," replied Arnold. He then turned to Helga with: "Wouldn't you say so, Helga?"
Helga could only smile back at him and add to the explanation. "Yeah, and it's the same with the grandparents. I mean, the grandmother is all for us being together. Grandfather doesn't care one way or another, so that's a good thing."
"And Arnold's grandparents?" Nadine followed up.
"As supportive as you want," Helga beamed. "Trust me, you want his grandmother on your side. If she likes you, she'll walk through hell for you."
"Wow, that's nice!" commented Nadine.
"Nice? NICE?" Rhonda retorted. "This is what you consider the next big stage in your relationship?"
"Well Rhonda, you did say he was a bit vanilla," Nadine reminded her friend. "Are you seriously that surprised?"
At that very moment, Arnold wanted to kiss Nadine. Rhonda would have killed her if she had anything on hand sharper than a drinking straw. But the part-time myrmecologist had a further point to make, all the while projecting an air of innocence. "You know, Rhonda? I don't think you've ever brought Curly over to meet your parents. Meanwhile, Arnold tells you he and Helga are a hit with each other's families."
Rhonda's complexion went a long way toward ashen following Nadine's revelation. Now Helga too wanted to kiss Nadine, only in her scenario, she'd slip Bug Girl some tongue. Nadine had provided, if not a way out, then some ammo for a counterstrike.
"I see," the blonde girl mused. Then to the fashion diva: "So…you and Curly are still going strong, huh? Tell me then, was I right to set you two up with each other?"
News to Nadine, who turned to stare quizzically at Rhonda with more questions at the ready. "Rhonda, is she telling the truth? You told me you and Curly got together because you decided to give him a chance!"
Son of a bitch!
In a decidedly off-script turn of events, Rhonda was the one against the ropes.
Rhonda Wellington Lloyd had always been wary of Helga since the beaning incident, particularly of the blonde girl's eagerness to foist Curly on her. In retrospect, it had developed into something very amicable, a rather twisted give and take. Rhonda kept Curly in check, Curly proved to be a witty, sensitive beau. Rhonda gave Curly the time of day, Curly placed her on a pedestal. So, for all the quirks in their relationship – a given whenever Curly was involved – they had proven quite good for each other.
So their relationship itself wasn't the problem, plus there was no big secret about it. Except for the part that Rhonda wanted to keep under wraps for the rest of eternity: how Helga of all people had been their matchmaker.
Imagine!
Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, beholden to Helga G. Pataki over something romantic in nature! Worse still, having to admit as much in public!
"Nadine, we're leaving!" Rhonda announced as she glared at the couple across the table. She paused to study them a bit longer. As she did so. her glare softened all too briefly as a concession that Arnold and Helga had earned at least a modicum of her respect for besting her at her own game. "Look, a deal's a deal," she then said to admit as much while still maintaining her aura of dignity. "You stay here and finish up if you want. I'll go pay for your treats."
She scooched out of the booth to make her way to the counter. "Nadine, let's go!"
Nadine complied. Halfway sliding out of the booth, she too paused to look at the blonde couple. She saw their unasked question of how her intervention would affect her friendship with Rhonda. She smiled at them. "Don't worry," she reassured. "She'll forgive me. She always does."
And she too was gone.
Back at the booth, Arnold and Helga were left to reflect on what had just happened. Eventually, Helga initiated the conversation with a sharp punch to Arnold's shoulder. "That's for not letting me know you were going to bait and switch Gossip Girl!"
"Ow!" winced Arnold. "I had to! You also had to believe I was going to blab on us! She would've seen right through me if you didn't!"
"Oh, look at you!" Helga pretended to scoff. "Suddenly able to read people and twist facts!"
"Better than outright lying," Arnold rebutted while still rubbing the struck shoulder.
"Oh yes," Helga recalled. "Heaven forfend you lose your moral compass."
"Whatever you say, Helga," Arnold sighed back. "But seriously," he added, "you think she's got us all figured out? You know, as…seeing each other?"
Helga would normally have relished an opportunity to rib Arnold for his coy choice of words. Criminy, they'd had sex twice already; they were well beyond "seeing each other". Anyway, her answer was sober and measured. "Let her blab if she wants to, Footballhead. It's not like I'm ashamed of us being together."
"Yeah, me neither," reflected Arnold. "By the way, are you going to finish that?" he then asked, motioning toward Helga's half-finished frozen dairy leviathan.
"Well, I do need my strength," she smirked. "There's this frisky young boy I know who keeps leaving me drained of energy…"
Arnold couldn't help but chuckle at that reminder.
"But I tell you what," Helga resumed with the kernel of a new idea brewing behind her mischievous expression. "Tell me the biggest lie you can manage, with a straight face. If it's good, I'll let you have some."
Arnold made a show of clearing his throat before leaning in on Helga and fixing his steeliest gaze on her. "Sex with you is so boring," he monotoned.
Arnold got his ice cream for making Helga laugh her head off.
One last kiss at Slausen's entrance sealed an unexpectedly awesome day before they went their separate ways. Lunch with Helga's family, dessert, and two shows to boot! And hope, too. Hope that Arnold's parents would finally be coming back.
These thoughts and hopes buoyed him as he made his way home. Such was his hazy reverie that Arnold only became aware of Gerald's presence after No. 33 called out the blonde boy's name for the third time. Gerald was seated on the front stoop of The Sunset Arms. He'd been waiting for his brother from another mother and looked in need of a sympathetic ear and a helpful word.
Arnold's greeting was jovial in light of his afternoon with Helga. "Hi, Gerald! What's up?" he greeted, offering his hand for their signature handshake. Gerald reciprocated noncommittally, prompting the Footballhead to ask: "Something the matter?"
"Arnold my man," Gerald answered, "we gotta talk."
Aaand that will be it for this chapter. Thank you, thank you, and thank you some more, for sticking by this story. Your continued support will never be unappreciated. This one took a while because of the scene at Slausen's. I mean, I knew the path it was going to take and how it was going to end. It was just a matter of getting it all to flow without sounding jarring or stilted. As ever, keeping the characters in character remains important as well. I would appreciate it greatly if you could post a review and let me know how I'm doing so far. At the very least, you can be assured that I won't delete any unfavorable reviews (though merciless exceptions will be made for spam). Instead, I will explain and/or clarify any decision that comes under question in hopes of starting a meaningful dialogue.
And what a convenient way to segue into:
Guest: My take on Bob is that he's merely an asshole, not a monster. Beneath his gruff exterior and materialism is someone who'll do anything for his family, but he'll do it in the least popular way. Make no mistake, I'm not out to redeem him, only to say that he just is who he is without malice aforethought. By the way, I hoped you enjoyed my portrayal of Rhonda in this chapter. I imagined her to be in her element when she's extracting juicy gossip from her marks.
Guesty: Thank you indeed for enjoying the chapter. And I hope this chapter did not disappoint you as well.
And so we come to the Tidal List for this chapter:
Heaven or Las Vegas – Cocteau Twins
Love in a Peaceful World – Level 42
You Can't Deny – Lisa Stansfield
All That I Can Say – Mary J. Blige
And with that, we've reached the end of the chapter. Take care and take nothing for granted.