N.A.: I see I've got two new faves, so thanks again to both of you, and to everyone else who's favorited and followed! Maybe, drop some more reviews if you see something you like, or don't like, or don't see something you want to see? Hint hint.

You know what? Let's get in Shaia's head.

Chapter 43

Inevitable

South Hillwood High

-SHAIA-

This place… was overwhelming.

I'd never been in an actual school before. Sure, we had one back in the city – nothing this elaborate, of course – but as the princess, my education had been provided by the royal tutor, and, even when traveling with the Shortmans, I had been joining Arnold in his online lessons. Actually being in a school was a completely new experience to me, let alone one this large, with this many students.

We weren't exactly "in" the building, of course, but we were on the grounds. Arnold was to see if he could get us a visitors' pass. "School's still in session for a couple of weeks until vacation starts," he explained. "Since I'm not technically enrolled, we're not technically supposed to be here, but this is the best place to be right now if I'm going to introduce you to the gang. Hey, look, there's a few of them right now!"

I followed his gaze to a spot near the building's entrance where several teens about our age were animatedly talking. They included a short, skinny boy with long stringy hair and an even longer nose; a very tall lanky boy with an even more prominent nose and a short haircut that stood straight up; another short boy with short black hair and glasses; a very tall girl with long brown hair and a placid expression; a not-as-tall elegant-looking girl with short dark hair; a more average-sized girl with dark skin and bright blonde braids; and a shorter but very curvy girl, dressed in strikingly mismatched attire, who had a very unusual haircut, not the least-notable aspect of which was its vivid reddish-purple color.

I could hear more of their conversation as we drew nearer; the girl with the odd hair was excitedly discussing… something. "So, they shadow-dropped the newest cut last night, and it absolutely slaps," she was saying. Funny, I knew all those words but they made no sense in that order.

"Hey guys," Arnold began, "How's-" but he was immediately cut off by the dark-haired girl, who had just noticed us and was striding toward us indignantly.

"Arnold!" she angrily snapped. "Why didn't you tell us that you were coming back early? What's wrong with you? Do you even social media? If I had known, I could have planned an appropriate welcome party! Did you even think of that?"

"Rhonda!" the braided girl interrupted, grabbing her friend's elbow.

"Oh, I- I'm doing it again, aren't I. I'm making it about me. *deep breath* I'm sorry, Arnold… Arnold's friend… I'm not usually like this…"

"She's always like this, but it's why we love her," the boy with the glasses contradicted, "It's part of her charm."

Arnold chuckled nostalgically. "Well, might as well make the introductions… Guys, this is Shaia. She's visiting from San Lorenzo. Shaia, this is-"

"No, let me try to guess. Arnold's told me so much about his friends that I feel like I know all of you already. Let's see…" I turned to the dark-haired girl and her blonde companion. "You must be Rhonda Lloyd…"

"Naturally," she responded. "I see my reputation has preceded me." Yes, she was definitely as Arnold had described her.

"And you are Nadine Robinson." I turned to the others. "Sid Gifaldi… Stinky Peterson… Thad Gammelthorpe… Sheena Kacjynszki…" The only one unidentified was the purple-haired girl. "I… I'm sure he would have mentioned someone who looked as unique as you…"

"Awp," the girl responded. "I keep forgetting how new my look is. World I help if I said something was 'ever-so' something?"

"Lila Sawyer!" I said triumphantly.

"So, um, I guess you've told her all about us?" Sid asked. "How much did you tell her," he said, eyes narrowing.

"Nothing bad! Seriously!" Arnold protested nervously. He had mentioned Sid's paranoia, though he filed that more under "personality quirk" than something bad, so, technically, I suppose he was telling the truth. Rhonda's mild narcistic tendencies, Stinky's occasional obliviousness, and Thad's eccentricity. Knowing Arnold, he had probably undersold their personality defects, but so far I had seen nothing too terrible.

Of course, there was one very conspicuous absence among Arnold's peers. I wasn't sure if I was disappointed or relieved by the fact that Helga Pataki had not been here to greet Arnold; on the one hand, I owed a great debt to the girl for all she had done for my people. But on the other, there was the inconvenient fact that she was Arnold's ex, and furthermore, they'd been together a long time, and known each other for even longer. Deep down, I knew the few months the two of us had shared was dwarfed by the amount of history between Arnold and Helga, and that couldn't hope but cast a shadow over any future the two of us had together. What would happen when the two finally met? Would they lock eyes from across a crowded hall? Would they fall in love all over again? Would I be forgotten like chaff in the wind?

I may have been reading a few of Stella's romance novels.

As if somehow picking up my thoughts, Arnold asked "So… anyone know where Helga is?"

"Actually, she's probably already inside," Sheena said. "She's bene coming early lately to get everything ready."

"Ready?"

"Oh, yes, didn't you hear? She's directing our school's production of A Christmas Carol. We're supposed to be putting it on for the Leichleiter Childrens' Theater in a couple of weeks. Actually… some of us should probably get going right now."

"She gets cranky if we're late for rehearsals," Thad added. "Not that the layman could tell…"

"See you later, guys," agreed Rhonda. "I for one want to avoid her wrath. I'm already on thin ice for all the time I missed due to football…" The three drama club members departed hastily.

"So, she's directing again, huh? That certainly brings back memories," Arnold reminisced. "Back in fourth grade, she wrote and directed this whole play about the four food groups. I played a banana."

"How does one go about playing… food?" I asked, confused.

"It was just one short musical number, but still… I guess it's all about finding the personality in your character."

"And what would the personality of a banana be?"

"Well, they're a very funny fruit if you really think about it." Arnold replied.

"Yeah, cause they're shaped like a pe-"

"Sid!" scolded Stinky. "That's hardly appropriate talk, on account'o there's a lady present!"

"…do we… not count or something?" asked Nadine.

"Oh, uh, well… I reckon you two are used to our uncouth tomfoolery," Stinky backpedaled, flustered. "Shaia here ain't accustomed to such behavior."

"Do not hold back on my account," I assured. "I am more than used to such talk among my own people. We are isolated, not naïve."

Stinky's response was cut off by the bell. "Welp, reckon we'd better get to class ourselves. Welcome back, Arnold! Hope your inevitable reunion with you-know-who doesn't bite!"

I saw Arnold visibly cringe at Stinky's departure line. Clearly on some level he was dreading the no-doubt imminent moment when he would run into his ex. From what he'd told me, apparently she was seeing someone else as well, but the history between them was still a tangible thing, and just about anything could happen when they finally intersected again. It could be bad, it could be good… the only thing that was truly a guarantee was that it would be awkward. For all three of us.

South Hillwood High Auditorium

-HELGA-

"All right, everyone, let's take it from the top!" I demanded, clapping for emphasis. "And let's try not to screw it up, people. Opening night's just a week away. And I better not see any improv this time. That means you, Scrooge."

"Improv? Improv? Why, you wound me, madame director!" Curly spoke with exaggerated offense. "Every word I spoke came from Dickens himself!"

I rolled my eyes. "Scrooge would not spontaneously launch into Carton's dying inner monologue from A Tale of Two Cities."

"You don't know that for sure," Curly insisted.

"Just stick to the script, you twisted little… actor," I grumbled. "Okay, places, people, and… action!"

Properly chastened, Curly took his place, hunched over Scrooge's counting desk. Well, for all the crap I had given, I had to give him credit; he definitely had the body language down. The sophomore who was playing Fred entered stage left, passing Scott as Bob Cratchit. "A merry Christmas, Uncle! God save you!" he declared.

"Bah. Humbug." grumbled Curly, not looking up from his ledgers.

"Oooh, he said it!" Mr. Simmons said giddily. "I got chills… oh, sorry, I'm interrupting, aren't I. It's just… he said it!"

I made a "keep it going, ignore him" motion to the actors, and the soph… I think his name was Brad… continued, "Christmas, a humbug? You don't mean that, I am sure?"

"I do," Curly replied snippily. "Merry Christmas. What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough!"

"Come then. What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough!"

"Bah!" repeated Curly, a bit of ham creeping into the performance. "Humbug!"

"Don't be cross, Uncle!"

" What else can I be, when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon merry Christmas!" Curly was up now, prancing around the stage and gesticulating wildly as he spoke – nay, expelled – his lines. "What's Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books and having every item in 'em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!" He pounded the desk for emphasis.

"Okay, let's stop for a moment, " I said, making a time-out motion. "Brad, your performance is flatter than month-old root beer. You need to project more. Go bigger."

"…it's 'Brett'," the soph corrected.

"Whatever," I said. "Curly… you have the opposite problem. You're going too big."

"But it's Scrooge! He's a larger-than-life character! I have to go big!"

"There's 'going big' and then there's what you tend to do. The set designers worked hard on that scenery, Curly. I can't afford to have you up here taking gigantic bites out of it." I clapped again. Okay, let's keep going, next line, Brett."

"I'm unappreciated in my time, Curly grumbled, taking his mark again.

"Uncle!" Brett spoke, making sure to project a bit more.

"Nephew!" Curly responded. "keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine!"

"Keep it? But you don't keep it!" Good, good, he's more emotional now, but not overdoing it..

"Let me leave it alone, then. Much good may it do you! Much good it has ever done you!"

"There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say, Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round—apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that—as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"

I made another time-out gesture. "Much better, Brett. Keep that energy for the rest of the performance." Everyone stared at me. "What? I'm not just a bitch. I'm not just bad cop to Simmons's good. I'm perfectly able to acknowledge when I see improvement."

The rehearsals continued during the morning stretching until we reached Rhonda's first scene as Ghost of Christmas Past. Despite my early assurance that I wasn't entirely evil, there was a lot more negativity than positivity coming out of me, culminating in me going full Gordon Ramsay at Princess for flubbing a line."

"Geez, Helga," she said, "calm down. It was one mistake."

"One mistake? We can't afford one mistake! This performance has to be perfect! And it doesn't help that you took forever to get into costume and that you've been blowing off Drama for football, and that you think you can just waltz back in here and pick up like nothing happened!"

Rhonda raised an eyebrow. "I can't help noticing that your mood took a dramatic turn for the worse when I mentioned seeing Arnold earlier," she commented slyly.

"That has nothing to do with anything. It's your total lack of professionalism that's pissing me off, Rondalloid," I insisted. Which was true. So what if he decided to drop in to town a couple of weeks earlier than I was expecting… and never bothered to mention it to me… and never called when he did get into town… and hasn't tried to get in touch with me at all since then… That didn't bother me. It's not like we're still boyfriend and girlfriend. We're two separate people with our own lives, and he doesn't need to keep me apprised of every single thing he does. In fact… I'm perfectly fine if he doesn't want to talk to me at all during his time here! After all, after New Years' Day, he's just going to go back to San Lorenzo for another half a year anyway. No use getting attached to him all over, not when things have been going so well with Brainy.

"If you say so," she replied, arching a patrician eyebrow, clearly not believing me. Well, if she doesn't want to, that's on her. I know that I am totally okay with the situation as it is currently unfolding.

"Helga," prompted Mr. Simmons, "I'm very happy that you've found your own special niche in the drama club as our director, and I'm pleased that you're very passionate about your role, but… perhaps you could use a bit of a break? Take a walk, get a drink of water, perhaps cool off a bit…"

"I don't NEED to cool off!" I snapped back. Upon stares, I added "But I suppose we could take five. Keep brushing up on the script."

I exited – no, I did not storm out, I departed in a calm and rational manner. Like I do everything. I am not upset. Why, I bet if I ran right into him, right now, I'd barely even re-OOOF!

Oh, when will I learn not to inner-monologue while walking? Or at least try to watch where I'm going?

"Helga?"

"ARNOLD?!" What was this, the millionth time the two of us collided like this? Why had fate cursed the two of us to this endless recursion of serendipitous collisions? Had fate decreed that we were forever bound to be drawn to each other, he the positive force, I the negative, forever opposite, yet each cursed to be pulled in the direction of the other? What cruel mistress be Destiny, to have sentenced us to such an existence?

…damn, he's back one day and I'm already waxing all poetical.

"S-sorry, Helga, let me help you up," he offered, as he had so many times before. How many times had I slapped that helping hand away? As if the mere thought of physical contact didn't send me into the throes of ecstasy! How many years was it before I stopped sabotaging myself, before I allowed him to see the real me? How much sooner could I have made things so much better, how- stop it! This is how it starts! The next thing you know, you're getting lost in his eyes, swimming in those emerald pools…

"I-it's all right. Not like I'm not used to this by now…" I got back to my feet. "So, Football-head. Back in the land of decent Wi-Fi and a coffee bar on every corner. How's it feel?"

"Oh, you know, samey, but also… different-y,"

"Arnold, why does she call you 'Football-head'? Your head looks nothing like a football?" It was just now that I noticed that Arnold was not alone. And who, specifically, it was he was with.

"Oh, uh, it's just a nickname… see, 'football' is a different game here, and it's played with a differently-shaped ball. The game they call 'futbol' in San Lorenzo is called 'soccer' here. I'm actually not sure why…"

"Actually, it's a shortened form of the full name of the sport, 'association football.' See, football-slash-soccer got the name not because you kick the ball around with your feet, but because it's played on foot as opposed to sports like polo which are played on horseback. American-style football, or 'gridiron football', got its name for the same reason."

Arnold stared at me wide-eyed. "What?" I asked. "I know stuff. There's more to me than Old Betsy, you know."

He shook his head. "I… I just kinda forget how smart you are sometimes."

I found myself blushing, and hoped to god he didn't notice. "So… Shaia's here too…" I commented, trying not to sound jealous or disappointed, NEITHER OF WHICH I AM, THANK YOU.

"Yeah, she wanted to come early so she could really soak up the culture."

"Ha! Good luck with that. The only culture around here is in the containers of artisanal organic yogurt they sell in all those high-end health food stores."

"That's not true," Arnold contested. "I mean… we've got museums, theater, the symphony, lots of jazz clubs…"

"True. I think we might even top New Orleans there…"

"Speaking of… I heard you're directing A Christmas Carol this year?"

"Yeah… I know, it's kind of a cliché and it's been done to death, but it's a seasonal classic for a reason."

"You think maybe you can get the two of us tickets? I'd really like to see it."

"Mmm… yeah, I think I can probably swing that. So, the two of you, huh…" I paused, dreading the answer my inquiry could elicit. "Are you, like… together?"

Arnold blushed and rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. "Uh, yeah, we kinda… are… kinda… I mean, it just sorta happened organically, since we were together a lot and we had a lot in common… and I figured, you were with Brainy, so it's not like it was behind your back… You are still with him, right?" he asked, and did I detect a bit of hopefulness in that question?

"Oh, no, no, of course not! I mean, of course it wasn't behind my back, not that I'm not still with Brainy, which I am. Still. It's going well. Real well. Super well. Like, you wouldn't believe how well it's going." Rope it in, Pataki, thou doth protest too much…

"Well, that's good," he said. "I'm glad you guys are still together."

"Yeah. Hey, maybe we should all four of us get together sometime?" OH MY GOD, WHY DID I JUST SAY THAT? "You know, grab dinner together at a nice restaurant, so we can all get to know each other…" Shut up shut up shut up stop talking, please, Arnold, turn me down, you know it's going to be painfully awkward…

"That sounds like a great idea!" Arnold replied, because the universe FUCKING HATES ME, "Why don't you run it by Brainy and we'll try to figure out a good time to do it." Great, now I have to do it. Congratulations, Helga, you did this to yourself.

"Sure, um… well, I'm busy with the play this weekend, but maybe next?" Well, at least I had a good excuse to delay the inevitable.

"Sure, next weekend sounds great. How about Chez Paris?"

Oh, god, no, not Chez Paris! That's our place! I'd been purposely avoiding all of our couple haunts since he'd left; whenever Brainy took me to a nice place I always insisted on going somewhere I'd never been before, mostly just so I could avoid those kind of memories. "Sure. Chez Paris. Sounds awesome."

This was going to be a nightmare, wasn't it.

A.N.: With apologies to Charles Dickens.

Jose: Actually, I do have a backstory of just why the Green Eyes' love goddess looks like Helga, but I don't know when I'm going to tell it.

Next: A Show and Dinner