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“Helga!” The blonde’s eyes snapped up as her father entered her bedroom. Not grumpily shouting into his phone, not distracted by Olga, but actually looking at her. “What are you doing up here? Everyone’s waiting!” Bob wasn’t just looking at her, he was smiling.
Helga blinked in astonishment, her poetry journal completely forgotten. “They are?”
“Of course they are! Can’t have a party without the birthday girl!” Bob chortled. “C’mon, your mother is almost done with the cake!” He stepped forward and Helga allowed herself to be led downstairs. The Pataki living room was covered in streamers with a large banner reading “HAPPY BIRTHDAY HELGA” hung right in the entryway.
Miriam was in the kitchen, carefully applying icing to the cake. “Oh there’s the birthday girl! Good morning sweetie!” She chirps, her voice clear as a bell as she maneuvers the spatula with fine motor control Helga didn’t know she possessed anymore. “You just sit back and relax before the guests get here, sweetie. It’s your day, after all!”
Her day. Helga’s heart bloomed in her chest and she smiled as she headed to the living room and sat down. Olga was in the room, hanging up decorations and making sure the modest pile of presents was perfectly stacked.
“Oh Helga!” Olga rushed forward and opened her arms for an embrace. She didn’t rush to squeeze her, and Helga felt comfortable enough to hug her sister willingly. “I’m so happy I get to be here for your special day! I’m going to make sure that everything is perfect for you! You just sit back and relax, I’ll put on your favorite show until the guests arrive!”
Perfect. For her.
Helga allowed herself to be seated on Bob’s recliner and be given a small bowl of popcorn (“Don’t want to spoil your appetite!” Olga had declared) to munch on while the guests arrived, and arrive they did. Gerald and Phoebe had arrived hand in hand as they always did, offering birthday wishes and a pair of presents to the pile. Sid, Harold, Stinky, Rhonda, practically everyone she knew from PS 118, even Big Patty herself had arrived. It was overwhelming, but Helga couldn’t stop the laughter from coming out when Eugene tripped and landed head-first in her popcorn bowl. It felt so easy, so natural, so right.
“Hey Helga.” A voice seemed to whisper on the wind, making her spin around to find the source, and there he was, Arnold. Standing there with his hair carefully brushed to make him look a bit more formal while trying to hide the fact that he’d put effort into it. He was holding a present in one hand and a small bouquet of pink roses in the other. “Happy Birthday. I got these for you.” He says casually, as if a small romantic gesture didn’t have the capability of rocking her entire universe.
“What? Flowers? Seriously, Arnoldo?” She sneered, but it was more playful than mean. “You think I’m some kind of dainty damsel or something?”
Arnold shook his head, his usual caring smile stubbornly staying attached to his lips. “No. I just thought you’d like them.”
“Well, you’re lucky I do, Football Head.” She snapped, pulling the flowers to her face and taking a deep whiff of the amazing scent.
“Alright kids, it’s time for the birthday girl’s big moment!” Miriam called out. All the kids gathered around the dining room table as Miriam brought out the cake and set it on the table. Olga carefully pulled the chair at the head of the table out and pushed it in for her. Everyone was surrounding her, singing ‘Happy Birthday’, while Arnold gently tilted her chin up and planted a soft, sweet kiss on her lips.
It was everything she’d ever wanted out of her birthday.
“Go ahead, Helga, make a wish!” Bob had declared, lighting the candle with practiced hands. Helga took a deep inhale, and as she leaned forward to blow out the tiny flame…
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Helga jerked awake, eyes wide. It was early, the sun only barely peeking above the horizon of Hillwood. Her eyes jerked to her alarm clock, seeing that it was the last possible minute for her to get up and get ready before she’d be late to school. She quickly kicked off her blankets and jumped to head to the bathroom for her shower.
“Figures. My stupid brain has to give me a dream like that today of all days.” She grumbles, determined not to let it affect her. The hot water does a good job of helping remove the last remnants of sleep, but not the phantom rush of feeling Arnold’s lips on hers. There was no noise coming from downstairs, no joy, just the usual dead silence of the Pataki household. She threw on her usual pink dress and as she pulled her hair into her usual pigtails and adjusted her bow, she tried not to think about her friends gathered around, cheering for her. “Yeah right.” She sneered, stepping downstairs.
There was no booming voice from Bob, no cheerful baking from Miriam, no over-the-top birthday celebrations. No nothing. Heading for the kitchen, she blinked as she saw a note on the table, and for a second, something like hope sparked in her chest as she picked it up.
‘Olga,
I’m busy keeping the store afloat so we can keep the house, but I haven’t forgotten your birthday! Stop by the store and you can pick out anything you like for…what the heck, I’m feeling generous, 20% off, just for the birthday girl!
-Bob’
Helga’s fist clenched around the note, crumpling it, her teeth grinding together as she glared at the paper like she could set it on fire with just her sheer rage.
“...Twenty percent.” She snarled, her hands shaking. “Twenty percent off.” She repeated, the fires of rage in her heart now a volcano. “That’s all I’m worth to you Bob? I got your twenty percent right here!” She grabbed the note and ripped it to shreds in seconds, breathing heavily as she tore, tore, tore until the bits of paper were the size of confetti. “Unbelievable! He even called me Olga again! Criminy, how hard is it for his pea-sized brain to retain the names of HIS OWN KIDS!?”
A faint snore dragged her away from her anger, and she turned toward the living room. She already knew what was waiting for her there, but she went anyway. Miriam was laying on the couch on her stomach, snoring away, one arm dangling from the cushion, a glass with a bit of orange liquid in it threatening to spill. Helga rolled her eyes and gently plucked the glass from her mother’s hand and set it on the table.
“Don’t want you spilling your breakfast Miriam.” She sneered. Her mother didn’t stir, just letting loose another loud snore. “Typical.” She grumbled, heading back to the kitchen and pouring herself a bowl of cereal, examining all of the unpacked boxes still sitting around the Pataki household. Her birthday wish from the previous year had come true, even without candles. Bob had finally off-loaded the last of his beeper stock to Helpers for Humanity, and finally pivoted to new electronics and cell phones, slowly digging Big Bob’s Beeper Emporium out of the financial sinkhole he’d led it into and allowing the Patakis to move back into their old home. Of course, Bob had a lot of work to do to get the company out of the red, so he’d been at work most of the time. Miriam was right back to her usual haze of smoothies and inappropriate naps, leaving Helga to do most of the work unpacking.
She stabbed her spoon into the milk and chewed with a frown on her face, eating fast, as she usually did. She quickly grabbed her lunchbox and opened it, the familiar emptiness gnawing at her stomach. She quickly threw together a bologna and cheese sandwich, a somewhat bruised apple, and a twinkie, tossing them into the box haphazardly. It wasn’t enough. She’d be hungry in an hour. She snapped her lunchbox closed and tossed it into her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder and stomping to the door.
She took a moment to examine the house. Empty, dark, and barely functioning. No celebrations, no decorations, no attention.
Same as it ever was.
“Happy birthday to me.” She grumbled, slamming the door harder than necessary before scoffing loudly. “What a load.” She stomped down the street, her expression settling into her usual trademark scowl, but an observant person could tell that she was more upset than her usual simmering snark.
“Good morning, Helga.” Phoebe greeted pleasantly at the end of the block, her smile turning a tad tighter when Helga stared at her.
“Morning Phoebs. Sleep well?” She asked. Her best friend of course could sense her mood, but her job as best friend was to press on regardless.
“I slept adequately.” Phoebe nodded, studying her for a moment. “Are you alright? You seem…more agitated than your usual mornings.”
“Gee Phoebe what gave it away? The simmering rage? The general aura of doom? The scowl?” Helga responded, feeling bad for her snappy response to Phoebe’s concern, but she was in too awful a mood to apologize.
“The second one.” Phoebe answered easily, understanding her easier than anyone else, as usual. “It’s definitely more pronounced than usual.” Helga scoffed but didn’t respond, leading the two to walk down the sidewalk for a few blocks before Phoebe spoke again. “I know this is a sensitive question, but do you have plans today?”
Helga froze for a second. “Plans? Plans?” Phoebe didn’t flinch, used to Helga’s dramatics by now. “You mean like a party? Yeah, sure, I’m planning the bash of the century at home, Bob and Miriam are just tripping over each other to celebrate my birthday, or, ooh, maybe Olga descended from on high to plan out a birthday party just for her little sister! You know, in between soaking up all the adoration she gets just for existing!” She crossed her arms, glaring at Phoebe, who gave her her usual cool look. After a brief staredown, she threw her arms in the air and resumed walking. “Face it, Phoebs, birthdays are a complete scam. Just an excuse for people to pretend they care for five minutes before they spend the rest of the year ignoring your existence. I don’t want ‘em and I don’t need ‘em.”
“Helga–” Phoebe warned, but Helga was still going.
“Cake? Presents? What a crock! What a load! I’d rather just be left alone. Save me the disappointment–” She turned a corner, “OOF!”
And ran right into someone.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going buck–Oh?” Helga’s rant died in her throat as she saw Arnold sitting there, rubbing his forehead. Her brain short-circuited as she saw her football-headed darling looking at her. “A-Arnold?”
“Hey, Helga. Happy birthday.” He greeted casually, standing and offering her his hand to help her up. Gerald stepped close to Phoebe, offering his hand, which she took casually. Those two simple words shook her to her very core, her heart blossoming in her chest, so happy that her boyfriend remembered her birthday.
He remembered.
Helga slapped his hand casually with a glare. “What’s so happy about it, Football Head?” She asked, rising to her feet on her own. “Birthdays are just overrated, schmaltzy, idiotic affairs. Completely meaningless. Just a waste of time!” Phoebe winced, Gerald raised an eyebrow, and Arnold, dear sweet Arnold, blinked in confusion.
“Oh…Well, I just thought–”
“Well, STOP thinking, hairboy! It’ll do you good!” She snapped, turning away and stomping off.
She could hear Gerald lower his voice as much as he could and mutter, “Man…” in as incredulous a manner he could manage.
“Yeah…” Arnold replied, but with a goofy smile on his face that Helga didn’t catch, accelerating his pace and schooling his face into a neutral one as he walked to school with his girlfriend.
“He’s a bold kid, that Arnold.” Gerald shook his head, slowly leading Phoebe to join their friends, who were heading up the stairs to PS 118 quickly, the discussion of birthdays quickly fading, no matter how hard Helga’s heart was beating.
He remembered!
By lunch time, Helga had decided that if she could get through the day without anyone bringing up her birthday, she could survive it. No awkward sympathy, no fake kindness, not even Mr. Simmons greeting her with a big smile and “I heard it’s your special day”.
And that’s exactly what happened. It was just another day at PS 118, and Helga was slowly calming down. Not a single person had brought up her birthday. No one had said a word. Helga glanced toward the cafeteria, where Mr. Simmons was sitting with Curly for their counseling session over lunch. No one even glanced her way.
Good.
“People minding their own business,” Helga mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich. “What a concept.” She reached into her lunchbox and blinked as she felt nothing, her stomach simultaneously dropping and growling traitorously. “Great, I packed my own lunch and I’m still hungry. Can this day get any worse?” It’s okay. She could handle this. She’d spent the latter half of the school day hungry before. Heck, she’d spent all day at school hungry before. No big deal, just another day.
“Hey Pataki.” Gerald greeted as he led the charge to the table, Phoebe and Arnold bringing up the rear. They were late. Helga’s eyes narrowed. They were never late. They had the same lunch period.
“What kept you three?” She asked, snapping her lunchbox shut. “The straight line down the hallway to the cafeteria too complicated for you?”
Gerald snorted into his hand, and Phoebe adjusted her glasses. “We were just delayed a moment, Helga.” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she was thrown off by Arnold sitting next to her and setting down an extra tray of cafeteria food in front of her. There was a bowl of tapioca pudding on the tray, a bowl that was completely absent from his own tray.
Helga stared at it, then slowly moved her gaze to his own eyes, which stared back confidently. “What is this, Arnoldo?”
Arnold shrugged casually, too casually. “You looked like you were still hungry.” He answered.
“Seriously, Hairboy?” Helga sneered, simultaneously cheering herself on to keep him at arm’s length and berating herself for being so mean. “You got some kind of Helga Hunger Watch stuffed in that football-shaped lump of bone you generously call a skull?”
Arnold didn’t rise to her bait one bit, giving her that easy smile that never failed to make her heart melt, even now, shrugging a single shoulder easily. “Just thought you’d like it. Should I take it back?”
Helga snatched the tray before he could even fake reaching for it. “Not on your life, Arnoldo. Just don’t go thinking I’m some charity case.”
Her boyfriend just kept smiling. “Whatever you say Helga.”
They ate in silence for a moment, with Helga trying to eat slowly, but the idea of filling her stomach felt good for once. But she couldn’t help but keep her eyes on Arnold. “Alright, spill. Where the heck have you three been?”
Everyone froze. Phoebe adjusted her glasses for the third time in five minutes. Suspicious. “Been?” Gerald asked, his voice smooth as always.
“Doi! Don’t play dumb!” Helga demanded, pointing at Gerald with a glare. “You three show up late, when you’re never late, and you bring a second tray of cafeteria food like you knew I’d still be hungry. What gives?”
“Nothing.” Arnold responded quickly. Too quickly. Helga rounded on him, eyes narrowed, and he once again didn’t react.
“Nothing.” She stated, eyes narrowing to thin, dangerous slits.
“Yeah, nothing.” Arnold shrugged. He was cool as a cucumber, but Helga leaned forward, glaring into his eyes, and he met her gaze coolly. She knew that tone. Something was up.
That should annoy her. Heck, it did annoy her. Helga G. Pataki hated surprises. Hated not having control over the events around her. But when Arnold looked at her with that smile, her rapidly melting heart betrayed her and prevented her from being truly mad.
“...You’re an awful, awful liar, you know that football head?” She asked. Gerald nearly snorted his milk out of his nose holding in his laughter.
“...Yeah I know.” Arnold responded with a smile.
“He’s working on it.” Gerald added, and Phoebe offered Arnold an apologetic glance, but he didn’t even acknowledge her, keeping his gaze focused on Helga. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t tell her the truth, just resumed eating as if the matter was settled.
Helga scoffed and went back to her second meal, stabbing at her mashed potatoes. “Whatever, I don’t care what you idiots are up to.” She ate quickly but kept an eye on everyone else’s tray. When Phoebe finished her food, she stood up. “C’mon Phoebs. I got better things to do than stick around and see what these geekwads have up their sleeves.”
“Coming!” Phoebe replied, stepping up and trotting behind Helga as the blonde stomped out of the cafeteria, all eyes watching them.
“Man…” Gerald sighed, wiping his brow theatrically. “She totally knows.”
“Yeah…” Arnold answered, a goofy lovesick smile blooming on his face as he watched Helga go. “She totally does.”
“You are one sick puppy, man.” Gerald replied, rolling his eyes, but Arnold paid him absolutely zero mind.
Helga stormed down the hallway, underclassmen scattering like fall foliage in a light breeze as she glared a hole in the air in front of her, Phoebe following behind dutifully.
“He’s planning something, Phoebs, I know it.” She grumbled, not stopping her stride to even look at her friend as she kept walking, everything about her posture and stride screaming ‘Get out of my way or die’. “This is how it starts. First it’s about ‘nothing’, then the next thing I know I’m surrounded by morons yelling ‘Surprise!’ and I’m forced into a parade of colorful balloons and crappy games and…ugh, singing.”
“You don’t really know if he’s planning something, Helga.” Phoebe assured, clutching her books to her chest.
“Oh please. Arnold’s about as subtle as a locomotive when he has something to hide. I know, alright.” She turned a corner, her head cocking to the side and glaring at her friend. “And I know you’re in on it. You’re never late for anything, and to arrive at exactly the same time as the two stooges? Please, Phoebe, don’t treat me like an idiot, I know you better than that.”
Phoebe didn’t deny it, nodding her head slowly. “As I said earlier Helga, we were merely delayed.”
“Delayed doing what, Phoebe?” Helga frowned. “Hanging up decorations? Passing out invites? Planning a stupidly wholesome ambush?”
Phoebe’s face cracked into a teasing smile. “Your imagination is very active today.”
Helga stopped at her locker and leaned in. “Phoebe, you’ve been my best friend for over a decade. You’re the one person I trust implicitly and completely. You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” She glared.
To her credit, Phoebe didn’t even blink. “I’m not lying.”
“But you are deflecting.” Helga growled.
“I’m merely following the instructions given to me by a dear friend.” Phoebe replied, adjusting her glasses.
“That’s even worse!”
“Have you considered just…waiting and seeing, Helga? You know Arnold wouldn’t do anything he didn’t think you’d enjoy.” Phoebe shrugged, and Helga recoiled like she’d just been shot through the heart.
“Wait and–? Phoebe are you NUTS? I don’t DO waiting and seeing, waiting and seeing is how people end up emotionally wounded.”
Phoebe simply smiled. “Perhaps. But that’s what happens when you trust people, Helga. Especially Arnold.”
Helga threw up her hands in disbelief. “Incredible! I’m surrounded by ingrates, secret-keepers, liars! All of you–!” Her angry tirade was cut off as the bell rang, signalling the time to get to their next class.
“That’s my cue. Stay strong, Helga.” Phoebe waved in farewell and ran off.
“Yeah sure, leave me in my hour of need. Some friends you are…Yeah right, nothing my eye. That football-headed idiot is probably planning some over-the-top schmaltzy tripe. What does he think this is some kind of cheesy–” Helga grumbled, throwing open her locker door, only to blink as a tiny folded rectangle of paper drifted down to the ground, her rant dying on her lips as she stared at the tiny paper square.
“Oh Criminy, spare me.” Helga muttered, rolling her eyes, but her voice was already softening. She tossed her books into her locker, grabbing what she needed, then running off to the janitor’s closet to open the note reverently.
‘Helga,
I know you don’t like your birthday. You don’t have to pretend. You might not like your birthday, but I’m glad it exists, because it means you do too.
Love, Arnold’
“He…” Helga blinked, her words stopped by a lump in her throat, a lump she stubbornly couldn’t swallow down. “He signed it ‘with love’...” She muttered, her hands clenching around the letter. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, thumping against her locket like a loud bass drum. She placed the back of her hand to her forehead finally, dramatically letting out a loving sigh. “Okay, okay, keep your cool, Helga, it’s just a note. An incredible, romantic, loving note…Oh Arnold, what are you doing to me? This is it, this is the moment where you loudly confess your love to me in front of the entire school, isn’t it?” She took a moment, then shook her head. “No, that’s not his style. But Arnold! Your sweet words cut right through the inky blackness of my birthday-hating heart, revealing my true feelings beneath, like a lighthouse shining a beacon into a dark foggy night, calling me towards a future filled with love, affection, and understanding! A future where I can finally be MISSUS–”
“Haa…haa…haa…haaa…” A familiar wheezing came from behind her. Helga froze, gritting her teeth as she could feel the telltale sign of Brainy standing right behind her.
“Brainy…I thought we were over this. Do you want to be socked in the face? Is that what this is to you? Some kind of weird thing where you’re into getting your glasses broken by my knuckles?” Helga asked.
“Haaa…haaa…no.” Brainy answered. Helga finally turned to him, crossing her arms, and he handed her a small piece of candy, a watermelon lollipop. Her favorite flavor. “Haa…haa…Happy Birthday.”
Helga froze, blinking in confusion as she slowly took the candy, popping the sweet into her mouth. “...Thanks, I guess. But I swear if you follow me somewhere and I hear your disgusting wheezing one more time, you’re getting the geek beaten off you.”
“Haa…haaa…fair enough.” Brainy answered. Helga nodded, placed the letter reverently in her pocket, and stormed out. The entire rest of the day was spent avoiding Arnold’s gaze.
By the time school let out and Helga rushed past her friends and headed home as fast as her feet could carry her, she’d come up with a plan. Just go home, do her homework, and then turn on some wrestling, maybe weasel her way into ordering a pizza when Bob got home from work. It was almost criminally simple, it had to work!
She stepped past the threshold into the house, frowning as she heard the TV on. Bob wasn’t home, of course, but Miriam was sitting up, watching some kind of daytime talk show that Helga knew bored her mother to tears.
“I’m home, Miriam.” She called.
“Oh, hello Olga.” Miriam greeted airily, and Helga grit her teeth. “How was school?”
“It was alright.” Helga answered, her entire demeanor softening, throwing a hail mary despite herself. “It’s my birthday, Miriam.”
“Oh that’s nice…!” Miriam replied, her hands already reaching for her glass. “How old are you now? Nine? Ten?”
“I’m thirteen, Miriam.” She answered, gritting her teeth, willing the tears not to come. “I’ve got homework to do.” And she stomped up the stairs, forcing herself not to tear up. She parked herself at her desk and got to work. Her hand brushed against her pocket, the note sitting there. “Focus, Helga. Focus.”
And so she did. Math and Social Studies went by in a flash, and Science was quick to follow. Every pointless worksheet Mr. Simmons assigned was done and dusted in roughly an hour, her eyes slowly drifting closed as she leaned back in her chair. “Maybe if I can just lay in bed all day I can just stare at the ceiling and slip slowly into madness…No pity party, no surprises. Just me, myself, and–”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
Helga froze, her eyes snapping open before narrowing. “You have got to be kidding me. That better not be who I think it is…” She snarled, stomping her way back downstairs, where of course Miriam was loading the blender for another smoothie, and threw open the door.
Arnold was standing there, hands in his pockets, smiling like he had no idea what he was doing. “Hey Helga.” He waved.
“A-Arnold? What are you doing here, football head?” She choked out, trying to remain composed and utterly failing, trying to stay hidden behind her door.
He shrugged, his smile not moving an inch. “I was in the neighborhood and wanted to see you.”
Helga’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “No one is just in the neighborhood, Arnold. What’s your angle? Time for phase two of your master plan, I suppose. A massive cake maybe? Or how about a full mariachi band singing me happy birthday?”
Arnold blinked. “Your imagination is pretty active today.”
Helga frowned. “Don’t get cute with me, Arnoldo, what are you planning?”
He shrugged now, easily able to see past her walls now that he knew where they were. “I was just going to invite you to my house, to hang out.”
Helga’s mouth opened to retort, then closed, then opened again. “Hang out.” She finally said dryly, even if internally she was squealing. ‘He’s inviting me over to his house! I won’t have to sneak in or crawl through his skylight to steal something, I’ll be invited!’
“Yeah.” Arnold shrugged again, leaning on her stoop like it was no big deal.
“Casually.” She ground out. “Like this is a normal, every day, non-birthday related invitation.”
“Yep.” Helga glared at him, really staring into his soul, trying to find the trick to this, the hidden birthday celebration that lurked right around the corner.
“...You’re planning something.”
Arnold shrugged once more. “A little bit, but I promise it’s not that big.”
Helga crossed her arms. “You’ve lied to me once already, Football Head. If this is a huge party, I’m giving you a swirly.”
Arnold laughed, and extended his hand for her to hold. Helga hesitated, before glaring into her empty house.
“I’m going to Arnold’s Miriam! I’ll be back…tonight.” She called, not even waiting for her mother’s answer before shutting the door, stepping down the stoop and taking Arnold’s hand. “Alright, lead the way, Romeo. But if this ends in an early April Fool’s prank, you’re going to end up with the mother of all wedgies.” Arnold just laughed and walked with her, not taking her seriously at all, and Helga couldn’t help but pout at the idea that he just took it without complaint. “This had better not suck, Football head.”
Arnold hummed in thought, squeezing her hand. “I don’t think it will.”
The door to the boarding house slipped open and the usual flood of unusual animals ensued with Arnold easily stepping to the side, his hand going to Helga’s hip to pull her closer, an action which made her turn bright red and nearly shove him aside as they entered.
“Grandpa, Grandma, I’m home!” Arnold called.
“Well howdy there Short Man! I see you’re back from your secret mission!” Phil winked. “And you returned with your special guest.”
“Ah, pipe down, Gramps, I’m just here to make sure your grandson doesn’t do anything stupid when he’s left unsupervised.” Helga replied with a cross of her arms.
“Ha! Didn’t take you for the type to come willingly, Pigtails.” Phil scratched his chin as he fixed Helga with a look.
Helga raised an eyebrow. “And I didn’t take you for the type to still be alive. Didn’t your family have a curse to die at 81 or something?”
“Helga!” Arnold admonished, but Phil just slapped his knee and laughed.
“She’s got spunk, Short Man!” Phil cackled.
“Grandpaaaaa…” Arnold grumbled as he placed his hand on his face.
There was a loud CLANG! From the kitchen, and Arnold groaned as his grandma emerged, covered almost head to toe in flour, which she was quick to shake off. She stepped over to Arnold and Helga, observing their hands clasped and broke out into a toothless smile.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Arnold, back from the brink! And you brought Eleanor too! So good to see you again!” She exclaimed, and before Helga could react, the old bitty had lunged forward and taken her hands in her own. “Well, aren’t you just the cutest little thing? A fiery spirit, just like when I was your age, I can tell!”
“Y-yeah, that’s me…really…strong personality…” Helga muttered, completely caught off-guard.
Gertie leaned forward, glancing around conspiratorially. “This is just wonderful,” She stage-whispered to Helga. “Young love blossoming right under our roof. Make yourself at home, Eleanor!” She then marched back into the kitchen, leaving Helga’s face bright red.
“Grandma!” Arnold exclaimed, eyes wide and face red. Gertie just cackled and headed back to the kitchen, leaving Arnold to blush so hard steam was coming out of his ears as they could both hear her humming the wedding march loudly.
“Well, that was an experience.” Helga chuckled, looking at Arnold’s crimson face. “Chin up, football head. We’re just hanging out, right?”
“Right…” Arnold finally managed to breathe out, leading his girlfriend up the stairs. With every step, Helga can hear sounds drifting down from the roof.
Her eyebrows creased. “Last chance to come clean, Arnold.” She growled. “I swear if there’s going to be obnoxious singing–”
“No singing, I promise.” Arnold reassured, squeezing her hand.
“Cake?”
Arnold froze for a moment. “There…might be cake.”
“Arnold…” She growled, her eye twitching, but Arnold ignored her, only reaching for the door to the roof and slowly opening it.
Helga’s eyes went wide. She recalled years ago when they had thrown a party on this very roof to spite Rhonda and her ‘cool kids’ party, and everything was quite the same, but also, very personal. Brainy sat at a DJ booth, scratching the vinyls of her favorite songs. Gertie’s rooftop piano was manned by Curly, who seemed to actually be good at tickling the ivories as he played along to Dino Spumoni. Harold had set up a pinata shaped like Arnold’s head, cackling as Eugene took a swing and tripped over his own feet, right into the ladder Ernie was standing on, trying to hang up a banner reading “HAPPY BIRTHDAY HELGA” in big block letters.
She turned to Arnold, eyes narrowed. “You haven’t just been planning this today, have you?” She asked.
“I…might have sent out invitations last month.” He responded with one of his big goofy smiles. “Do you like it?”
Before she could open her mouth to berate him, two figures approached, one blonde, the other brunette. “Helga!” Miles and Stella cheered, smiling wide, and she couldn’t help but freeze. “We’re so glad you’re here!” Stella smiled. “Arnold wanted to make sure everything was perfect for your birthday.”
“Yeah, he was pretty anxious about it.” Miles chuckled, his smile growing wider as Arnold blushed again. “Especially with the cake. ‘I don’t know if Helga likes coconut’, ‘Maybe we should’ve gone with red velvet instead’.”
Helga turned to Arnold. “You were panicking over cake?”
Arnold’s face went so red Helga honestly thought he might get burned from it. “I uh…wanted it to be perfect for you.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” Helga muttered, her face red as Miles and Stella chuckled and excused themselves to go help Gertie with the cake, leaving the pair standing at the roof.
“I know you didn’t want anything too crazy, so I tried to keep it simple. Just us, our friends, and some fun things to do.” Arnold said with a smile.
“Simple? You call this simple, hairboy? There’s a pinata for pity’s sake!” Helga squeaked. “Criminy! This is ridiculous, completely over-the-top, and completely antithetical to my well-documented hatred of birthday parties!”
Arnold’s gaze went from worried to cool and calm. “But…?”
“But…you didn’t do half-bad, football head. Come on, let’s mingle.” Helga groaned, stepping into the party and resigning herself to an afternoon-slash-evening of having fun with her friends. She stepped forward with the bat, allowed herself to be blindfolded and swung hard, cracking open the paper-mache Arnold head and making candy rain down on the gathered kids, who cheered as Helga scooped up two large handfuls of candy and strolled over to Arnold, who was standing with Gerald and Phoebe.
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with eating candy that came out of something shaped like my own head.” Arnold muttered, and Helga rolled her eyes and shoved a handful of candy into Arnold’s arms.
“Yeah that was Harold’s idea.” Gerald chuckled around his Yahoo. “Kinda one last chance for you to ‘deck that Football Head’, to hear him tell it.”
“He was very proud of it. He spent weeks getting the paper mache just right.” Phoebe added. Helga actually laughed, and tried not to pay too much attention to Arnold staring at her. Gertie emerged from the downstairs and planted herself firmly on the piano, offering Curly a grin as they began playing a jaunty swing tune. Arnold offered his hand and Helga took it, allowing her boyfriend to lead her to the improvised dance floor, where they couldn’t help but dance and twirl to the swing music.
Gerald and Phoebe spun closer, with Gerald’s smile turning a touch smug. “So, Helga, what do you think of your birthday party?” He asked, and Phoebe couldn’t help but giggle behind her hand.
“Don’t think this means I like my birthday all of a sudden Geraldo.” Helga replied, spinning Arnold, who had a very dizzy look on his face that had nothing to do with the spin. “I’m just humoring the football head here so I don’t ruin all of the effort he went to.”
“Sure thing, Helga.” Gerald answered with a roll of his eyes. From there the evening blurred, talking with Harold over snacks, chatting with Rhonda about how Arnold’s roof was the best venue in town, talking with Stinky and Sid about doing this next year. Next year. As if there would be another party next year. As if this was normal. Her heart did backflips whenever someone said happy birthday but otherwise made it no big deal. It wasn’t a huge celebration, but they still recognized her as the centerpiece.
“Alright soldiers! Attention!” Gertie’s voice rang out on the rooftop, all the noise stopping immediately. “Birthday cake coming through!” Helga turned, her eyes wide as Gertie, Phil, Miles, and Stella stepped through the threshold of the roof door carrying a huge chocolate cake. “German Chocolate. No strawberries, just for the birthday girl!”
Helga’s face flushed and she turned to Arnold, who offered a cheery smile. “...You remembered.”
“Of course I did. Could you imagine if I ruined your birthday by giving you an allergic reaction?.” He shrugged as if it were crazy to think he wouldn’t. The adults rested the cake on the largest table, and Arnold slowly pushed Helga to sit in the chair. Miles pulled out a lighter and lit every one of the thirteen candles. No one sang the song, but they were cheering for her. She turned to Arnold, who was positively beaming at her. “Go ahead, Helga.” He said softly, his voice setting her heart ablaze. “Make a wish.”
She stared into the soft flames of the candles, her eyes shining with barely-restrained emotion. No one was making it a big deal, it wasn’t embarrassing, it was…light, happy, and made her feel things she thought she never would. She was suddenly struck with the similarities between this and her dream. So, she inhaled, and made her wish.
‘I wish this wasn’t a dream.’
Then she exhaled, blowing out her candles, and finally opened her eyes. Everyone was cheering, still there, and Arnold was smiling at her as Gertie wielded the knife with a little too much enthusiasm to cut the cake. It was real. A smile, wide and true, slowly bloomed across her face.
From there, the rest of the night was a blur. Almost everyone had a gift for her, a nice dress from Rhonda, a book from Phoebe, a new baseball mitt from Gerald, a small box of blueberries fresh from Stinky’s garden, even Harold had given her a coupon for a steak dinner from Mr. Green’s, free of charge. Helga had expressed thanks for every gift, but couldn’t help but notice that one was conspicuously missing, her eyes constantly flicking to Arnold, who just seemed to watch her with that same doofy smile on her face.
But all good things had to come to an end, and slowly parents arrived to pick up their children, guests filtered out, and Helga had insisted on helping to clean up. “It’s the least I can do after everyone went out of their way to throw such a swanky soiree for little ol’ me, don’t you think?” She’d asked, ignoring Arnold’s pleas to let him do the work.
“You don’t have to do this, Helga. It’s your day, after all.” Arnold pleaded, but he was smiling as he picked up the trash.
“Yeah I do, Arnoldo. What kind of–” She choked around the word ‘girlfriend’, coughing a bit, which made Arnold beam once more. “What kind of guest would that make me?”
“...Whatever you say, Helga.” He answered, and they maintained a comfortable silence, picking up trash, putting food in plastic containers, tossing tablecloths into the laundry basket, all while stepping around each other.
“You know…for something I never wanted…this didn’t completely crash and burn.” Helga finally said, tying off a trash bag.
“High praise coming from Helga G. Pataki.” Arnold snarked.
“...It was a good party, Arnold.” She finally admitted, looking at him softly. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Arnold replied. “It’s not quite over.” And then he rushed behind the door to the boarding house, emerging with a bouquet of pink roses and a small, hand-wrapped gift. “Here. For you. I uh…” He stuttered, slowly turning red and scratching the back of his head. “I figured you’d want these gifts in private. Sorry if you thought I didn’t get you anything.”
“Arnold…” Helga muttered softly, before turning to the present. “You really couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”
“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want it, Helga.” Arnold said with a frown, but Helga snatched the present away before he could withdraw any further.
“Oh, I’m taking it, Football Head. I just reserve the right to complain about it, that’s all.” She replied, sticking out her tongue, and Arnold’s beautiful laughter filled her ears as she slowly unwrapped the present. This was the first present he’d given her that wasn’t a prank or some other kind of setup. She wanted to savor this. The final bits of paper fell away, revealing a small book, the cover a stunning leather dyed a beautiful pink. She could still smell the scent of fresh leather on it, and slowly ran a hand over the cover, before moving to the spine, and feeling the thread criss-crossing it. “Is this…handbound? Did you do this?” She asked, voice soft and vulnerable.
“Yeah…it took a while to get it right.” Arnold explained, and Helga could feel the thread going crooked in certain spots, her eyes going wide. “I figured you might want a new place to write your poetry. You don’t have to show me, but…I hope you use it. I uh…hope it’s enough.”
“Enough?” Helga blinked, then her gaze hardened, even as her voice softened. “Enough!? Arnold, you threw me a party, and everyone came. No one made fun of me, no one made it weird, you remembered what I like, that I’m allergic to strawberries, you basically made this a night out of my wildest dreams…and then…you give me this?” She threw up her hands, before clutching the book to her chest like a lifeline. “You’re such a football head.”
“I’m your football head.” Arnold replied, stepping towards her, his hand gently rising to cup her cheek, and she froze when his thumb glided over her lips. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day. Happy Birthday, Helga.”
And then he leaned up and captured her lips with his own. Fireworks exploded in Helga’s mind, already writing line after line of poetry in her head that would definitely be transcribed in her new journal later. Helga’s hands grasped his shirt tightly, silently begging for him not to pull away, and Arnold’s hands settled awkwardly on her hips before becoming more sure, wrapping around the small of her back and squeezing. After a minute, they slowly pulled apart, with Helga resting her forehead against his, a dreamy smile on her face.
“Okay, I take back my earlier assessment.” She finally said, pulling away to look into those emerald green eyes she adored. “This absolutely didn’t suck.”
“I’ll take it.” Arnold replied, slipping his hand into hers and squeezing.
They stayed there for some time, only separating when Miles and Stella ascended, insisting on driving Helga home. She had a backpack stuffed with cake, snacks, candy, and her presents, and was soon back at the Pataki household. Bob was watching the football game and loudly complaining about every play. Miriam looked barely conscious as usual. For once, she didn’t care. She glided up the stairs quietly, gently placing the roses into a vase and placing it next to her window to give them some sun, pulling out every present with reverence and silently thanking each one of her friends, before finally retrieving her new journal and opening it with quiet care, before placing her favorite pen to the paper and beginning to write.
‘The day of my birth often reeks
But that football head tried for weeks
He travelled the halls
Learning of me to tear down my walls
I’ll love him forever
For giving me the Best Birthday Ever.’