Unbeknownst to her, Helga had caught the attention of a certain easygoing boy, even as he sat snuggled up with a beautiful, raven-haired girl.
As most students were piling out, Arnold remained buried in his seat, his golden hair catching the dim auditorium light.
He watched her trot proudly off the stage with her club, a satisfied smile on her face that was hard to miss. He nodded, "Not bad."
"Not bad?" Rhonda, the girl towering over him, echoed.
"Yeah, don't you think that was kind of good?" He said, complimenting Helga's poetry reading.
Rhonda pulled her custom-made designer bag on her slender shoulder. "Ugh, I wasn't listening closely. Helga Pataki reciting poetry is très bizarre." Her red manicured nails snuck into his arm as she grabbed at him. "Come, come, darling, I have some marvelous plans for us..." she excitedly voiced, with her usual posh air.
Rhonda always had something to do and never had one dull day outside of school.
"Rhonda, can't we just chill out at my place or yours?"
Her eyes darkened as if Arnold had spoken the unthinkable. "Do you know who I am? You expect me, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, to miss out on all the latest soirees to sit around, Netflix, and chill?"
Arnold slumped in his chair, feeling like a kid in trouble with his parents. "I-I just want it to be you and I, alone, sometimes."
Her dark brown eyebrows soften. "Oh, is that it? When the time comes, and you've proven yourself, " Rhonda leaned in close so only his ears could hear. He got a strong whiff of her expensive perfume. "I'll rock your world."
The guy in Arnold liked the sound of that. But then he thought about going to another upscale event where he always felt out of place. "I didn't mean-"
Rhonda pushed her painted lips on his, leaving him speechless. "Now come on, chop-chop."
The old black chair squeaked as Arnold let Rhonda pull him to his feet. He had had a crush on her since junior high. Finally, he got to date her during their sophomore year, the same year he joined the basketball team, and he felt victorious. Of all the guys in school and the city, she picked him.
But several months in, sometimes, he couldn't help but feel like something was missing.
Arnold glimpsed over at Rhonda, walking beside him. I've got pretty good taste. He thought she was sophisticated and drop-dead gorgeous. What else could a guy his age want?
As he brushed shoulders with fellow students, his mind drifted back to 8th grade, when things were different.
The sounds of numerous conversations bounced off his ears, momentarily distracting him from his introspection.
His thoughts danced back to the poetic girl at the podium. He was getting closer to her that year; everyone was, but it all stopped. On a subconscious level, he let it happen because he knew of her deeper feelings but didn't yet know how to feel, which made things awkward between the two.
"Did you see what Lila was wearing today? Rhonda's question hit his ears and interrupted his internal dialogue.
"Um, a green skirt?" His voice cracked. He hadn't paid any attention to what his former crush had on.
"Well-" She started.
He interrupted this time. "But speaking of clothes, did you notice during the presentation how the crowd treated Eugene for what he was wearing?"
She flipped her wrist. "Darling, what Eugene had on isn't on trend."
"Maybe, but that's not the point; they were taunting him so badly that he ran off the stage. Don't you think that was wrong?"
"Ugh, I mean, I guess-"
Arnold looked flabbergasted and decided to tune her out when she continued on about Lila's fashion violation.
He checked his things and realized he must have left his keys in the weight room during an earlier period.
"Rhonda," He intersected. "I have to make a pit stop; meet me outside, okay?"
She grabbed his collar and pulled him to her lips for a quick smooch. "But remember, no one keeps me..." she grinned cheekily before releasing him.
"I won't," He walked away, bringing his fingers to his freshly kissed lips. He felt weird. Any average guy would feel satisfied after a kiss and being told by an attractive girl she'll "rock his world.'
But instead, Arnold felt hollow.
Meanwhile, backstage, an exuberant Helga high-fived her peers, her excitement evident as she made her way to her locker. She strutted to her locker in her pursuit to get home quickly. Helga had a routine. It was a method that helped her remain present instead of focusing on the past or dreading the future.
Her fingers grasped the handle and leaned on one hip, realizing she had forgotten her book of poetry in her locker. She tracked past a few lingering students, cut the corner, and,
WHAM!
"Hey Helga, earth to Helga." he gently tapped her face with the back of his hand.
"Huh, what the heck?" she fawned, using her core to sit halfway up. " When her vision became clear, her heart skipped a beat at Arnold's beautiful face so close to hers. "Oh." She balled her hands into a fist and bit her bottom lip to push down what was stirring in her heart.
His features had become even more handsome and charming than before.
Arnold blew out some air, and with a smile of relief, he stood up. "Man, this hasn't happened in ages," He rubbed the back of his head, then stretched out a hand to lift her.
Helga felt a bolt of electricity run through her body as she enclosed her hand in his. She immediately snatched her hand away and wiped the dust off her dress. She noticed that since last year, he had grown taller; now, he towered over her.
Arnold collected his keys, not wanting to leave them again. "I'm sorry, " he apologized, straightening his stance.
"Why are you sorry we bumped into each other? It's no big deal, " she dryly remarked, not meeting his gaze. There was no way she was going to revert to her prepubescent obsession with this guy. It wasn't going to get her anywhere, she realized.
Arnold looked her over, sensing that her attitude was somewhat more mellow. But he also noticed her appearance. "I like your dress. It's yellow, it suits you." He was so used to seeing her in dark colors that this was a pleasant surprise.
"I can't believe a guy that wore a kilt for years is now giving fashion reviews like he's a part of the fashion police." She covered her mouth, giggling. That earned her a good-natured eye roll from Arnold. "Eh, anyway, it's not mine." She examined herself, nearly forgetting she was still wearing it. "It used to belong to Olga."
"Oh, your sister, Olga, I remember her. Well, it looks nice on you." Arnold complimented while taking a second to admire her updo hairstyle. Helga retained her poker face. "Where are you headed? Maybe I can walk you." He gave her a partial grin. "Just to make sure you're okay." He swung his arms and clapped his hands together a few times. A habit he did whenever there was any awkwardness.
One corner of her lip curled at his offer and the memories.
The corners of her mouth turned down, remembering she swore off getting wrapped up in emotions for him again. Even a short interaction can pull out suppressed feelings. "No, I'm only going to my locker. I think I can manage, and you wouldn't want to keep Princess Lloyd waiting." She tilted her head towards the window where they both could see Rhonda on her phone, slowly pacing in a circular motion.
Arnold tilted his head at her callous tone when she mentioned Rhonda. He didn't understand why there was tension there. But Gerald always suggested avoiding involvement in issues between girls. His eyebrows turned upward, recalling when he tried to resolve a fight between Rhonda and Nadine in the 4th grade. He recognized how bull-headed Rhonda was even back then.
"What are you thinking about?" that honest question came out before she could stop it.
Arnold shook his head back to reality. "What? Oh, uh I was thinking about when I tried to patch things up between Nadine and Rhonda back at P.S. 118."
"What made you think of that?"
"You and Rhonda," Helga's face twisted up. "I don't understand how you went from being joined at the hip to seeming like archenemies. I was thinking that you're both stubborn."
"Gee, thanks for the personality analysis, Dr. Shortman." Her tone was dripping in sarcasm. "She's not my arch nemesis ask your girlfriend why she stopped talking to me."
"I've tried," he replied with some traces of frustration.
Helga squinted one eye at his prying. "Whatever, I've got to scram." She whispered with a trembling lip. It was getting too heavy, and she needed to escape.
He snapped his fingers to catch her attention. "Hey, before you go, I wanted to tell you I liked the poem you read. I've always been a fan of poetry, and yours sounded pretty good to me."
Helga's mouth opened wide as she dropped her things in her bag. "You did?"
Ah crap, she was trapped he had her.
Arnold smiled genuinely with hooded eyes at her expression. He always thought she looked cute whenever she was shocked or nervous. "Yes, of course, and you articulated it well up there." He said to convince her.
He liked my poem
Helga rubbed her arm, peering into those beautiful bedroom eyes her mind floated off, remembering when her pink book fell into his possession. The boy she once affectionately called her beloved. She wondered how things might have turned out if she had let him discover who the author was. Things may be different now. In what way, she'd never know.
"Helga!"
Her face appeared like she had fallen into a trace.
"HELGA!" He waved his hands in front of her face, successfully pulling her back to the present.
"Criminy football head, where's the fire?" Her jaw clenched. She resorted to her angered response to hide her embarrassment.
Arnold's shoulders relaxed. "Sorry, Helga. You were spacing out. I thought you were a goner." He smiled playfully. "Like that time I hit you with the baseball."
The two blinked at each other at the mention of that incident, and then both fell into laughter.
Helga's came out sweeter to his ear than he anticipated. And Arnold's low tenor laugh made her inwardly swoon.
Their chuckling trailed off as their eyes locked, a mix of intrigue and nostalgia flickering between them.
For a few seconds, all Arnold could see were pools of blue.
That is until:
Buzz,
buzz
buzz
The vibrating from his pocket made them jump and avert their gaze. He pulled up his phone to see some text messages.
Rhonda -What's taking you so long? -2:55 pm
Rhonda- Just a reminder, I have to get home to change -2:57 pm
Rhonda - unless you want me to look like a day-old mess -2:59 pm
His eyes whirled a little both at himself and Rhonda's last text. He felt a pinch of guilt for this interaction. He didn't understand why he did nothing out of the ordinary. However, he hadn't spoken one-on-one to Helga in a while.
He typed out a quick response to his girlfriend.
Arnold - Sorry, I'll be out soon. - 3:02 pm
Arnold tucked his phone away. "Look, I insist on walking you to your locker. It'll only be five minutes tops, and I'm not taking no for an answer." His brows raised at the new color on Helga's cheeks.
He's still so kind. She nodded and turned on her heels wordlessly, unable to trust the sound of her voice.
Arnold followed her, spotting that he hadn't ever seen her wearing high heels in the past.
Wow nice legs
He buried his face in his hands and tried to tuck away that thought.
Arnold caught up with her, a bit hunched in his posture. "So, do you have plans later?" He asked to fill the silence and to keep his mind from wandering.
"No, I have to work," she replied, unenthused.
"Oh, where do you work?" He inquired with genuine interest.
"At Bob's Micro Center."
"Oh right, your dad owns a store." Their shoulders lightly collided as they turned the corner. "That's pretty cool that Mr. Pataki has a business, and you can easily get a job-"
"Hey, are you calling me a nepo-baby?"
"I-I, no! I mean, is that a bad thing what does that mean?" He stumbled over his words.
Helga stopped in her tracks, plopping her hand on one hip, and pointed her finger at Arnold's chest. "I'll have you know that I went through the application process and training like everyone else. And I got the job fair and square." She emphasized her point by punching her fist. "Because I'm Helga G. Pataki, a damn hard worker! I haven't gotten any freebies in this lifetime, bucko!"
Sheesh, she's still so feisty. "Okay, my apologies." He raised his hands at her.
"You're so dense, Football Head... But you wouldn't know that, would you?" She muttered, but he heard her. Helga furrowed her brow, thinking of his insinuation about her working at Bob's store. She felt the need to self-protect. "And anyway, what would you know about hard work?" She was judging him based on the company he currently keeps.
"Wait. What's that supposed to mean? Arnold frowned and crossed his arms. "I've worked hard to get every job. I've been doing so since I was nine and maybe even younger, if you count all the stuff I had to do around the boarding house. So I'm not some nepo baby or whatever you called it either!"
"Fine!" She matched his aggressive tone.
"Yeah. Fine." He firmly responded, wanting to get the last word.
Helga spun on her heels, turning her locker combination fiercely, while Arnold kept his back to her. Both blondes were heavily breathing with tensed-up muscles. Neither of them could remember when they lost their cool. Helga, in particular, had been diligently working on her temper, and Arnold was naturally an even-tempered guy.
He moved his head from side to side. Helga Pataki is the only girl that can work my nerves. He felt his heart beating fast. His frown increased because he couldn't determine if that was good or bad.
"Damnit." She cursed because her locker wouldn't budge. "It's fucking jammed, my partner must have just come and put more junk in it. Now it's stuck!" her screams came out high-pitched as she pounded on it.
Arnold whirled around and watched her attempt to open it a few times.
She felt his breath on her neck when he blew out a sigh. "Hey, let me try."
"No, just leave me here, I don't care." She turned down his offer with a pout to her mouth.
He ignored her words and moved her out of the way. Arnold did some kind of trick with his hand, and the locker popped open. "There you go, " he pointed at the opened locker with nonchalance.
Helga crossed her arms, feeling impressed but not wanting to come out and compliment him. "Where did you learn that?"
She reorganized some items inside to make sure that didn't happen again.
"Oh, you know, that's something I picked up over the years," he answered while smoothing his medium-length hair out of his face.
"I didn't think a goody-two-shoes like you would know how to crack a lock." She replied under her breath and grabbed her rose-colored book.
The two walked side by side back to the exit in silence; each lost in their thoughts. Arnold felt slightly annoyed but oddly content as if something between them had subtly shifted. On the other hand, Helga was battling to control her emotions. The short walk was just long enough for them to cool off.
"Hey," they both started at the same time when they reached the front door. Arnold gestured for her to speak first.
"I was just going to say thanks—for walking with me and helping with my locker."
"No problem," Arnold replied, his smile warm. "Um," he hesitated, his squinty eyes lingering on hers, not realizing their effect on her. "Do you still have my number?"
"Huh? Y-yeah, I think so," she said, shifting her unzipped bag from one hand to another.
"Can you call me sometime, or can I contact you?"
"I-I guess that would be okay." Helga's fingers tightened around the strap of her bag, her mind racing with the implications of hearing his voice over the phone.
He wanted to make his intentions clear. "You know, if you need anything or just want to talk. Is your number still the same?"
Helga felt too exposed; the thought of being on the phone with him made her feel vulnerable. "I didn't mean that; forget it," she blurted out, retreating into her defenses. "Well, I have to go."
Without waiting for a response, Helga burst out of the building, finally letting out the breath she had been holding. Her sudden exit caught Rhonda's attention, and she frowned as she noticed Arnold's gaze lingering on the blonde through the glass.
Arnold's chin lowered as he sighed, but something on the ground caught his eye. He tossed open the door. "Helga, wait!" he called out, but there was no trace of her. His attention shifted to the object on the ground, and his eyes widened as he read the label. "Her poetry book..." he murmured, his curiosity deepening as he turned it over.