A/N: Hello! Thank you for the reviews so far! For everyone who is still holding on, I thank you! (Lol) This story was a lot of fun to write and probably my absolute favorite one in history. (And believe me, there's a lot to archive. XD) I hope this next chapter finds you all well! It's about to go down! And as always…
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hey Arnold… but like, could you imagine?
"The Clock Is Tickin'"
His words rang in her ears, his tone off, as she sensed a sign of worry about him. "Um, sure, I guess, was it about the assignment, or-"
"It's about Prom."
Her stomach jolted.
This was the moment, she realized, the moment he came to take it all back and say it was nothing but a ruthless prank. She sighed. "So, got cold feet already huh, Arnoldo?" This made Arnold stutter, "N-No, I'm… I'm still taking you," he guiltily said. "But… I just wanted to know…"
Just ask her. Ask her if she wants it to be a date. A 'date', date.
"I wanted to know…"
Ask her if she still likes you. You need to talk about feelings.
"Well, spit it out already!" She ushered impatiently.
Panicked, he hurriedly lied, "I just wanted to know what color you're going to wear?"
Where did that come from?
"What color am I going to wear?" She asked skeptically. "That's your question."
Arnold nodded, even though she couldn't see him, and said, "Yeah, ya know. So… the uh… corsage I get you will match."
She faltered, as she quietly asked, "You… you got me a corsage?"
He was touched by the softness in her voice, which was different from her usual brashness. It was kinda nice, actually. "Well… yeah, Helga. I mean, I haven't yet, but… I planned to."
"Well… okay… I'm wearing pink. I mean, big surprise there, am I right?" She snorted.
He laughed.
For the first time in days.
He really laughed.
"Not really." His smirk faded, as he cleared his throat. "So, what time am I picking you up?" She hesitated, as she spoke in the calmest voice she could, "Um… I mean I hadn't really thought about it…"
"Okay… well," he thought suddenly, "What if I pick you up at 6:30pm? The dance doesn't start until 8pm… maybe we can get…" He didn't know why… but something inside him suddenly clicked.
'Just enjoy the night.'
"Maybe we can get some ice cream on the way… Stop at Slausen's, ya know… like beforehand…"
Helga grew quiet as she cleared her own throat, and snarkily said, "Careful Footballhead, don't want it to sound too much like a date," she snickered.
Arnold's lips curled into a smile, as he boldly replied, "Well… I'm taking you to Prom, aren't I?"
"Y-Yeah," she stuttered.
"So…" He awkwardly played with the end of his phone cord, as he quickly quipped before he could take it back, "Guess it's a date." His words hung in the air once more, as she dreamily replied in a tone he hadn't heard in a very long time, "Okay. It's a date."
Arnold hadn't said much to her after their conversation, but it was that Friday afternoon when the moment became real for him. Standing in line at the ticket kiosk, it was finally his turn, when the Junior who was running the table asked, "How many?" Arnold cleared his throat, handing him the cash.
"Uh, two please."
The boy nodded and said, "Okay. Fill out this form with the names of both parties and I'll print out your tickets here in a sec."
"Sure." Arnold filled out the paper, jotting his and Helga's names down, as the Junior handed over the tickets. "There ya go! Have fun! Next!"
As Arnold glanced down at the tickets, there, in all of its sparkling golden scripted glory, was the name, 'Helga Pataki: Admit One'.
It was official.
There was no turning back now.
That week had been a slow one for Arnold. Everyday was hit or miss with his blonde friend. They had finished their project by Friday; Come Monday, Helga was back to her old grumpy self. But he remembered her mumbling something about, 'Miriam slowing her down that morning'. At least, for once, it felt good to not be the target.
Tuesday she was quiet all together.
But then Wednesday she sat at his lunch table that afternoon out of the blue, with no explanation. In fact, when she did sit down, she hadn't said anything and just started eating. Arnold looked over at Gerald, who shared a similar glance and shrugged. Cautiously, he asked, "Um… not that it's any of my business, Helga… but… don't you have Second lunch?"
She hadn't looked up at him, but responded shortly anyway. "Sure do."
He glanced at Gerald again for support, who gave him a look in return and whispered, "I dunno, man." He turned to Helga and clarified, "Right… and this is Third lunch."
She stopped chewing and finally looked up. "I'm aware." She said with a mouthful of peanut butter and a tone that said nothing less of, 'duh'.
Gerald, exhausted by Arnold's beating around the bush, asked bluntly, "So why aren't you sitting with Phoebe in your own lunch, is the better question?"
Helga threw a glare to Gerald as she addressed them curtly. "You're right, Footballhead. It's not any of your business." She suddenly stood up, and gathered her tray and things. "But since you wanna know so badly, Phoebe had early Study Hall this morning."
"Oh okay," Arnold said hesitantly. "Well, I didn't know-"
"So I thought, maybe, since ya know, we're going to Prom together and everything, I'd get used to sitting next to you for a while today… but," she glanced at Gerald with a look to kill. "Seeing as how I'm not wanted here, I'll catch you around."
Arnold stood up quickly, trying to stop the situation before it unraveled. He felt guilty for even asking.
"W-Wait, Helga, no stay-"
"I'm good." She huffed as she stormed off without another word.
He turned to frown at Gerald, who suddenly appeared more sheepish than he should have.
"You didn't have to scare her away, Gerald."
"Me?" Gerald pointed to himself. "You're the one who asked her about lunch! What do I have to do with this?" He asked wide eyed.
Arnold folded his arms.
"Seriously?" He lowered his eyelids at his friend. "'Why aren't you sitting with Phoebe?'" He mimicked Gerald's deep tone. "C'mon, she didn't need to hear that."
Gerald growled out in frustration, as he stood to gather his own tray roughly.
"Well I'm sorry, man. Okay, my bad. I'm just tired of hearing you complain about the girl."
Arnold groaned back. "I'm not complaining-"
"Well it hasn't been good things, that's for sure! It's like every minute, you're bringing her up. Ever since you asked her to Prom, good or bad, you won't stop talking about her… so mind telling me again how you don't feel the same way?"
Arnold stared back at Gerald in shock at his sudden outburst. He tried to retract as he started, "Gerald, I'm sorry, I'm just… confused right now-"
Gerald sighed, interrupting Arnold's contemplation.
"Arnold, that girl has been confusing you for years, man. But when are you gonna wake up and just… stop overthinking things. Just… let things be?"
His tone shifted. "Look, Helga likes you; You said so yourself."
"Yeah, she does." Arnold quickly flustered out. "So, what am I supposed to do?"
"Figure it out, man." He pointed at Arnold, in a tone harsher than he meant to. Catching his friend's worried glance, he softly added, "I would say these things take time, but… Prom is this weekend… You don't have much time left."
Arnold looked down and blushed. Keeping his gaze to the ground, he mumbled, "What are you saying, Gerald?"
Gerald sighed, patting him on the shoulder, as he wisely said, "I'm saying, time's tickin' Arnold; Don't waste it." He walked off to class as he threw a, "Later," in Arnold's earshot.
Arnold's gaze lingered off in Gerald's retreating direction, guilty for their argument. He sighed heavily as he gathered his own things, and headed for class.
By Thursday, the boys had made up, and Helga stopped ignoring them. But Arnold had made a conscious decision to stop bringing her up around Gerald.
He was right.
He was over thinking things.
It was just, so nerve racking and agonizing trying to understand her emotions and feelings after all these years and…
He wasn't that same scared little boy anymore…
Or… was he?
Was that it?
Was he just scared? Scared that he could actually have fun with someone like Helga? Scared that he could actually be happy? That she could make him happy, of all people?
The thoughts of her and his probable happiness fogged his brain all afternoon.
A/N: Whew! That was hard to get through! I hate when there is tension between Arnold and Gerald, just because they are like brothers more than anything. But someone had to get through to Arnold's thick head. Who else is better than Gerald? Might as well give him to straight. Cut the crap, Arnold. Just admit you like the girl. (Lol)
See ya next chapter, Lovelies!
