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.
Drawn
"Arnold!" snapped the teacher. "You're daydreaming again!"
She wasn't wrong. She'd just startled him from another of his flights of fancy. He didn't bother protesting; it would be futile anyway. Similarly, none of his classmates ribbed him for this, his latest bust.
He was Arnold Shortman. Arnold Shortman always daydreamed. He was harmless. No one got hurt when he daydreamed. He kept to himself; they left him alone.
Everyone was happy.
Well, they were.
His classmates, for not having to deal with him at length. His teachers, because he did and scored just enough not to raise any concern from them. His parents, because he was always himself and they loved him for it.
But somehow…
But somehow…
For all his aloofness, he felt an incompleteness within that was at once deeply personal and capable of devouring the universe. It was In the doodles. The doodles he'd made wherever a space existed in his textbooks and workbooks.
Wherever there was a space, she was there. The crude circle with the two narrow strips protruding from either side. Pigtails, he mused. Since then, she'd taken on some extra detail. He'd even added a comical scowl, replete with a unibrow as a finishing touch.
That was then, when he had to focus on her. Now drawing her was all muscle memory. He'd draw her face without thought or consciousness. She lived in his books.
In the margins.
Tut-tutting at his attempts at long division.
Unhappy with his answers and statements, right or wrong.
She fascinated him.
Even if he had no clue who she was.
She looked like no one from his school. She wasn't based on anyone from Hillwood. But she was embedded deep within his conscience.
Someone he didn't remember, yet couldn't forget.
Who are you?
A week later, he had his answer.
"Class, let's have a warm welcome for your new classmate!" the teacher's beaming announcement summoned him away from his floating, droopy haze.
"She's moved to Hillwood all the way from Juno, Alaska!" the teacher continued. Arnold lazily focused on the subject of her forced excitement. And he saw.
It's her!
"Class, this is Helga Pataki and—"
The teacher's voice faded into white noise. Sound ceased to be in the homeroom as he saw this girl called Helga Pataki. Her appearance may have been well beyond even his most detailed doodle, but the outline was there. The head, the pigtails. EVEN THE UNIBROW!
It was uncanny enough to be unsettling. He had to talk to her. The unknown girl who'd occupied his head all this time. He had to talk to her!
Only, he'd have to wait his turn.
Rhonda and her clique got first dibs on her and set about establishing her views on fashion and celebrity gossip. They were promptly rebuffed. Phoebe and the brains were next as they tried to establish how academically inclined the new girl was. Above average, they concluded, but nowhere near their level. Finally, Gerald and the jocks wanted to know how adept she was at sports. Good, as it happened, very good.
For a girl, that is.
A crashing right fist made a swift example out of Harold and quickly changed that viewpoint. Great, now everyone was treading carefully around her. Arnold still wanted to talk to her, but how? How to approach her? What to say?
One day in the library, it didn't matter anymore.
To the world, he was diligently doing his homework. In his head, he was not seated at a desk. He was behind the controls of the most advanced spacecraft capable of covering light centuries in mere seconds. In his mind, he was traversing the universe, discovering worlds, and witnessing cosmic marvels.
And when he returned to P.S. 118's library, he saw her in front of him.
She stood akimbo, her expression as plain as could be. So too her tone as she spoke: "You're interested in me."
Not a question, but a statement. Her directness made him fumble for a response, but she wasn't done yet.
"And don't bother arguing. I see how you look at me like you have something you want to say."
Her voice was firm but not harsh. Neutral, more bemused than angry. Lucky him, for he had seen what she did to Harold and feared that he might be in for similar treatment.
"Well?" she goaded.
"Well…?" he repeated unsteadily.
"Doi! I'm here, now out with it!" she continued with her blandishment.
Oh well, he reckoned, nothing to lose by telling the truth.
"You're the girl!" he let loose.
A pause from her quickly became a face briefly contorted in confusion. She regained her sassy composure with: "Well spotted, my dear sir. It's good to know nothing escapes you!"
"No no no!" he urgently tried rephrasing. "You're the girl I keep seeing!"
She was shocked enough by his response to quirk one side of her unibrow. "What are you on about, you dope? I've been barely aware of you for only a day or two. I'm sure this is our first interaction with each other!"
"No, I didn't mean it like that!" he kept trying for a rational response. A pity that his frantic voice and wildly waving arms did him zero favors. Still, she seemed mildly amused by his actions. The amusement manifested in her voice with: "Oh, is that so? In that case, do tell me how you did mean it."
Trying to explain himself was proving fruitless. If I can't tell her, I must show her!
"Look…here!" he exclaimed as he picked up his workbook and thrust it forward mere inches from her nose. "Pick a page!"
Helga was again briefly surprised before again recovering. "And why should I be interested in the homework of one…" – she leaned back to get the cover into focus – "Arnold Shortman?"
He had no time for protracted explanations. "Just pick a page!" he repeated.
She took the book and obliged.
"Oh my dear Arnold," she quickly reacted. "That long division's not looking so good! Are you suggesting—"
Sudden silence. And if he were to judge her by her surprised look, she'd found the doodle on the page. More silence as she scrolled back and forth, her jaw slackening more and more with each pause. He was heartened to note how her curiosity was rising instead of her ire.
"Is this a joke, Arnold Shortman?" she finally asked. "You've been sketching me on the sly since I got here? And my brow isn't that thick!"
"No!" Arnold insisted. "I've only just met you! These are from long before you arrived!"
"A likely story, Mister Cosmic Third Eye!" Helga scoffed.
"No, I can explain!" insisted Arnold.
And he did, too. About how one day out of nowhere, he felt himself being guided into repeatedly doodling this angry-looking girl's outline. How the process went from thought to instinct. This girl, whose presence he could sense but never pinpoint.
His explanation led to a long moment of shared silence between him and Helga. Eventually…
"Follow me," she ordered a voice attempting calm persuasion.
"Right now?" Arnold asked incredulously.
"Afraid so, Arnold Shortman," Helga confirmed as she grasped Arnold's wrist and just about yanked him over the table and dragged him to her undisclosed destination. The destination was her locker where she huffily entered the combination and retrieved a notebook. She riffled through it until she found the desired page. She then handed the book to Arnold with the instruction: "Page from there."
Arnold obliged. To be surprised by what he saw.
First was a crude sketch of a circle with two cones sticking out from opposite sides toward the top. The page was dated well in the past, well before her arrival here.
Is this going where I think it is?
Indeed it was! Each subsequent sketch became more detailed than the previous one. The triangles gradually morphed into scruffy mops of tousled hair. The circle too wasn't spared. It became more and more squashed with each iteration until it seemed like Helga had found the proportions she liked.
Is this meant to be…
The last doodle held his attention the longest. The head had been superimposed over a picture of Stonehenge on which it was looking down from up in the sky. By this time the head had been given a pair of comically angry eyes and equally cartoonish fangs.
'FLEE! IT'S THE FOOTBALLHEAD!' read the caption.
Arnold let loose with a chuckle that wouldn't be stifled. "Footballhead?" he asked Helga in amusement.
"Heh, sounded right at the time," was all explanation she offered. He pursued the matter no further; he was satisfied with the answer.
"And to answer your other questions…" resumed Helga. "Same as you, basically. Out of nowhere. Thought to instinct. Ingrained in my head. No clue how it happened."
And for a long minute, neither the boy nor the girl knew what to say to each other. They could only stare unyieldingly, hoping the other one would speak the foremost word. Arnold was first to relent.
"So you think there's more to it than just our doodles?"
"Whoa, wait!" Helga urged. "Do you see me carrying a tarot deck? How should I know?"
Then in an uncharacteristic display of boldness, Arnold uttered words that surprised even him.
"But you'd like to know." A statement, not a question, reflecting Helga's opening words in the library. "I know I would. After all, I am interested in you."
He could have sworn seeing a faint smile creep up across her face. Maybe he could afford to be bolder still.
"So, you want to hang out sometime, Helga Pataki?"
Helga made a show of considering his offer before finally responding: "Yeah, why not? It's not like I've got anything better to do."
"Yeah, lucky me," nodded Arnold, happy for once that he wasn't daydreaming.
THE BEGINNING...
And that's it for this little one-shot. Thank you ever so much for giving it a chance! Your thoughts would, as ever, be greatly appreciated.
So what was the inspiration for this one? Not gonna lie; Shortaki Week FOMO did play a part. Plus, I took a brief cue from the anime movie, Tenchi Forever, and expanded on it. A line from Ben 10: Ultimate Alien also added some flavor. Oh, and Bruce Springsteen also made a minor contribution.
As for the setting, I went for a mashup of universes. Arnold would be his flighty, aloof self from Craig's original comics. He'd be living in suburbia with his unseen parents living according to the norms of suburbia. Everything else was lifted from the series, with some changes to the group dynamic since Arnold is more on the social fringes and Helga comes in as an outsider.
As always, there's a Tidal List involved and it goes something like this:
flowers – Nujabes
Being Boring – Pet Shop Boys
Betcha By Golly Wow! – Prince
And that's it for this short tale. Normal M-rated shenanigans will resume shortly. Until then, stay safe and take nothing for granted.