AN: Hey there, lovelies! Here's another story I hope you all enjoy! I'm still in the middle of trying to find some old material to revamp the "Hey Helga" story, but as I started writing this, (which was meant to only be a one shot) I came up with a different high school, story instead, I went and reread the initial story, (talk about old writing cringe (Lol)) I felt that this could be a different take on the story revolving more around their Senior Prom, than graduating. But as promised, I have decided to keep this story separate and simply rewrite "Hey Helga" as time permits.
Here's the new story. I hope you all enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold. Poo
"To Prom Or Not Prom"
"Last chance to purchase tickets is this weekend for Prom! Still wondering if you're gonna take that special someone? Well ladies and gents, get your tickets before Friday! Friday is the last day to purchase, before they go up ten bucks! So please, get them now while they last!" Rhonda's voice boomed over the P.A. system for their afternoon announcements at lunch, as everyone buzzed about the upcoming traditional Senior Dance, known as Prom.
A blonde teen scoffed at the announcement, choosing her sides for her tray in line, as she complained aloud.
"Prom. What a crock. Like you'd catch me dead at that thing."
Phoebe curiously slid up next to her in line with her own tray as she asked, "Helga?"
"What?"
"You mean you're going to miss out on the social gathering of our Senior Year? Helga, this Prom. You can't possibly want to miss Prom?"
"Et tu, Phoebe? You're even going?" She half turned to look at her best friend with an unbelievable stare. "And believe me, Pheebs. I'm not missing anything."
"I disagree," Phoebe stated simply. "I mean, after some serious pondering, I, too, was questionable about Prom. But I've realized, social function or not, this is our celebration as Seniors! And while I may not be one for normal stereotypical group gatherings, I find it, whimsical, honorary, in fact-"
"Phoebe," she cut her off.
"You're just excited because Geraldo asked you to go," she deadpanned. "You have a date." Phoebe sheepishly looked down as she blushed, "Well, that's part of it…"
"That's all of it." Helga countered. "You won't catch me at Prom, date or no date." She huffed in sincerity.
Phoebe gathered her thoughts as she carefully said, "So, I see where your feelings are stemming from." She eyed her friend cautiously.
Helga caught on.
"And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?"
Phoebe sighed. "It means, that you seem slightly bitter perhaps, or underwhelmed at the fact that a certain," she whispered, "Someone, hasn't asked you yet."
Helga stopped to pay.
"I'm not bitter," she exclaimed roughly. She dialed back her tone, as she knew her friend was only right. Still. It still stung when she said it outloud. She continued, "I just… I don't care about Prom, okay? I don't care about crappy music, and stupid dances, and… probably spiked punch, or," she trailed off softly. "Slow dancing in the night lighting or… getting dolled up just to have the one person, the one guy I've loved forever just to notice me, and twirl me…and kiss.." She topped herself short as she realized she had said too much.
"Just… forget it, Phoebe." She suddenly huffed away.
"I'm not going to Prom."
"So, who are you takin' to Prom, man?" Gerald asked his best friend over lunch that afternoon. Arnold finished his chew as he nonchalantly declined, "Oh, I'm not going Gerald."
Gerald choked on his Yahoo soda, as he sputtered in disbelief, "W-What!?"
Arnold handed him a napkin with a side eye glance. "Are you okay?" he asked unsure. But Gerald quickly replied, "No, I'm not. What do you mean, you're not going, man? Senior Prom? This is a big deal!" He exclaimed, wiping the excess soda off of his hoodie.
Arnold sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe it's not a big deal to me. It's just a dance. We've been to plenty over the years." He shrugged.
"Just a dance?" Gerald repeated in shock. "Arnold, this isn't just any dance, man; this is the dance." He reasoned with his friend. Suddenly, the rapid fire questions hit.
"Are you sick?"
Arnold looked at Gerald and deadpanned, "No."
"Low on cash?"
"No-" He insisted.
"Can't find a date?"
"Gerald," he whined, "I just don't wanna go."
Gerald stared at his friend with mixed feelings. "But this is something we talked about for years, man! Remember? We said you and I were gonna roll up together and-"
"Uh," Arnold interrupted with a laugh-less chuckle. "Hate to break it to you Gerald, but I don't think Prom would be the same if we went together.." he gave Gerald a look, motioning between the two. "Not to mention, no offense, but I like girls." he offered a smirk, which Gerald brushed over, still shocked by his initial statement.
"Not like that, man!" he cried. "I mean, you and I together with our dates."
"Well," Arnold shrugged carelessly, "I don't have one."
The light-bulb went off in Gerald's mind.
"So it is the date thing," he sat back and crossed his arms.
"Why didn't you just tell me? I know this fine girl in my Algebra class, her name is Abby. I could talk to her for-"
Arnold waved his hand, interrupting Gerald's mile a minute offer.
"Gerald, Gerald, listen," he stopped.
"It's okay. It's not the date thing, or the funds, or… my health? I'm fine. I just don't wanna go." He said simply.
Gerald just sat and listened before he carefully asked with a pouty tone, "But… why not?"
"Because," Arnold started with a sigh. "Honestly, I'm not really big into the whole, 'school dance' thing. And if I'm being really honest, the last couple of dances that we went to weren't too great, if you remember." Arnold looked down, folding his arms over as he recalled his not so fond memories.
Gerald blinked as he recounted their encounters together. "Are you still on about how Helga ruined the Eighth Grade dance for you?" He offered him a skeptical look.
"She spilled punch all over me Gerald, and told me to go jump in a lake." He glanced at his friend with a serious look.
"Or the time at our April Fool's dance in Fifth Grade?" His friend offered.
"Also, Helga's doing. You remember her whole 'pretending to be blind'fiasco." He rolled his eyes. "Yeah," Gerald chucked. "Gotta admit, she did get you good, buddy," he smirked at Arnold.
Arnold found it less funny, however, as he said sternly, "I'm serious. Every time I go to a dance and Helga is there, she just finds ways to… I don't know… get under my skin and… mess things up." He thoughtfully drifted away.
Gerald extended, "Arnold, that was a lifetime ago. Helga don't act like that anymore… that I've seen anyway." He added tactfully.
Arnold waved his hand.
"It doesn't matter. I'm sure she'd find some way to berate, belittle, or embarrass me in front of everyone, so what's the point?" He half shrugged, dejected of his own situation.
Gerald pondered a moment before he playfully said, "So I guess you ain't askin' Helga to Prom, huh?" He snidely remarked, with a smirk.
Arnold scoffed. "Please. Helga wouldn't be caught dead wanting to go with me."
Gerald's smirk faded, as he eyed Arnold for a second before he remarked smartly, "Not the response I was looking for but okay… besides, I'm honestly surprised she hasn't asked you yet."
Arnold's interest suddenly perked up. He unfolded his arms as he asked curiously, "What do you mean, you're surprised? Helga would never ask me to Prom in a million years." He let out a 'matter-of-fact' chuckle, unable to believe the nonsense that his friend was delivering to him.
Gerald pretended to find his sandwich interesting, picking at the crust, as he said without looking up, "What if… she wants to go with you?" His shrug was so careless.
But it spoke volumes to Arnold.
His green eyes narrowed in disbelief at his friend.
"So what are you saying, Gerald? That Helga secretly wants to go to Prom, and she wants me to go with her?" He asked with such a level of incredulousness to his voice.
It was impossible.
Helga hated getting dressed up for Picture Day. He couldn't imagine her wanting to go to Prom.
Gerald shrugged slowly and said, "What if she did?"
"But she doesn't."
"But what if, man?"
The bell rang signaling lunch was over, but neither one of the boys got up to move. Arnold finally spoke, as he hesitantly asked, "How would you… how would you know that… about Helga, I mean?" His curiosity would always get the better of him. It usually did. For the first time in their conversation, Gerald looked Arnold in the eye, as he slowly said, "Look, all I'm sayin', is what if. But from what I understand, she may say she don't wanna go. But she does. And believe it or not…" he added for emphasis, "I think she wants to go with you." He pointed at Arnold who sat back, winded of this information.
"But… why… why me?" He pondered.
Gerald began to gather his tray and his belongings, as he left Arnold with his final thoughts.
"Guess you gotta ask her yourself and find out… but if she does…" He offered him a hopeful look, "Then will you go to Prom?"
"Gerald," Arnold threw his eyes at his friend, with a warning tone.
Gerald got the hint, as he said, "Hey, just askin'."
Arnold sighed.
What on Earth was he gonna do?
Tuesday morning came around, after a night of true rest, Arnold had time to think over what Gerald said to him the previous day.
And he was still just as confused as ever.
Why in the world would Helga Pataki ever want to freely and expressively want to go with Arnold to their Senior Prom? She did know this was like, the dances of dances, right? The dates of all dates. Even though they could just play it off as a 'group thing' as Gerald suggested. But how well would that be, considering that Phoebe and Gerald were definitely more 'couple' than they were 'group'?
It just wouldn't.
And what would that do for her reputation? Not that it mattered to him really…
He just didn't want to have to listen to her 'Helga-isms' all night, about how she'd 'rather be at Prom with anyone else but him', or call him 'Footballhead' or find any other way to prank him. That's what he really didn't want; to be publicly humiliated.
If he was honest with himself, like he really hadn't been with Gerald, it was the fact that not only did Helga ruin the dance for him, but it ruined his chances with Lila that night. And while Lila had originally agreed to go with him as 'friends' he was hoping she would look at him as more than a friend that night. At least, until Helga dumped her punch all over him. And even though his feelings for Lila were long gone, he was still just as confused as ever. He didn't even understand why she was mad in the first place. He hadn't gone to the dance with her, he had gone with Lila. Why was she even mad about something that had nothing to do with her, unless somehow, she was–
Arnold widened his eyes in revelation as he sat in the back of his English class. Absent-mindedly, he stared at the back of the blonde head in front of him, as if he were trying to read through her thoughts. An x-ray to the visual that was Helga's brain.
She was jealous that day.
But… if she was jealous of Lila, then… she probably wanted to go to the Eighth Grade dance with him then…
And if that were the case…
"Okay class," Mr. Pakanham addressed the students that morning, interrupting Arnold's progressive thoughts. "Go ahead and split into your assigned groups so we can work on our Hamlet Packets. This Friday is the quiz! Last one before the final!" The scratching of the desks and chairs blurred his thoughts as Arnold was suddenly face to face with the blonde girl in question.
"So, Arnoldo. You ready to do this thing this morning?" She tiredly yawned, as if she could care less about her presence in class.
Arnold shook his head. "Uh, yeah, sure."
They started studying in silence. Each jotting down answers where they needed to.
But Arnold's mind was a jumbled mess.
To ask her about Prom?
Or not to ask her about Prom?
That was the question.
How was this even possible that he was even having this current conundrum catastrophically melt his brain, all because of Helga Pataki, no less.
The girl who had made his life a living Hell since practically day one. And even only on a handful of occasions had he really only seen her be nice, and actually okay.
Did he hate her?
Of course not.
It didn't exactly equate to wanting to take her to Prom, either.
But if she did wanna go, and she really did wanna go with him, who was he to not be the one to at least give her a chance?
Gerald had even said she hadn't been up to no good in a long time. And Gerald liked her even less than he did. That was something. Maybe… maybe the only way to know, was to just ask…
He watched her scribbling away when it just came out; no warning, no thought process.
Just the question.
"So Helga, are you going to Prom this year?" Her scribbling halted, as she paused and asked, avoiding his watchful eye.
"No… what's it to you?"
Okay, so she wasn't going.
"I uh," he shrugged, "Was just curious."
She glanced up when she thought he wasn't looking, her eyes were careful as she watched his movements. For some reason that made him more nervous than the actual question itself.
"Well, I'm not going, so you don't have to be." She said as a matter of fact.
"Well… why not?" He pressed.
She chewed her lip, as she replied as simply as he did yesterday. "Because I don't want to, Hair Boy. Gotta problem with that? Or is that answer not good enough for you?" She went back to writing, her scribbles more impatient as he kept asking questions.
"We'', I just thought," he played with the tip of his pencil, "If no one had asked you-"
SLAM!
Went the sound of her own pencil on top of her desk, now that she was unfortunately asked to participate in this ungodly conversation.
"Thought what, Arnold? That you would ask me or something?" Her impatience showed through her actions but her words practically begged him. But it was clear to Arnold where her intentions were, and he was right.
She wanted to go.
Because she liked him.
His silence triggered her anger once more, as the bell rang, releasing her from her own personal prison. She began tossing her things into her bag, mumbling something about 'asking too much' when he perked up with an answer she never dreamed of ever hearing.
Certainly not what she expected.
Quite the opposite, actually.
"What if I did?" He cleared his throat. "Ask you, that is." He studied her face for a second, as if shifted from malice to confusion instantly.
She couldn't believe it.
Did she hear correctly? Thus had to be a prank.
"Did you… did you just ask me… to Prom?" Her tone softened as she racked her brain over the question and its reality surrounding her.
Arnold cracked a nervous smile as he quipped, "I guess I did… so… whaddya say? Wanna go?" He tossed his backpack over one shoulder, waiting for her response.
She shifted her weight to her left hip, hand extended in his face, as she roughly asked, "This had better not be a trick, Arnold." She sneered at him for good measure.
But he reassured her calmly.
"No tricks, I promise." He held up his hand. She eyed him carefully as she looked him over.
"You're… you're serious."
"Yeah. I figured we can go and have fun." He offered a small smile.
Helga scoffed in disbelief, her insides screaming in delight, as she responded as calmly as ever.
"It's just a dance, Footballhead. It's nothing special." She rolled her eyes.
He smirked at the irony.
"I know… but…" The words speaking to himself as he said them to her. "It's our Senior Prom. I know it may not seem like a big deal, but-"
"Because it's not." Helga interrupted firmly.
Arnold pondered on Gerald's words as he offered, "Well then. Let's make it one." He smirked watching her falter for a second before she said unsurely, "If you say so, Footballhead."
A/N: And there you have it! I hope you guys enjoyed the beginning of this wild ride! So sit back and relax, ladies and gents, it's only gonna get more wild from here. (Lol)
Read and Review, folks! Second Chapter to come soon!
See ya, Lovelies!