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Scheck had been stopped, the neighborhood had been saved. Arnold had been celebrated by the mayor herself for stopping the demolition of his home. He’d practically spent an entire week being showered in gifts by various people on his street. Meats from Mr. Green, flowers from Mrs. Vitello, and more, and even if he’d tried to turn them down, Grandpa had taken them quite willingly, and Arnold supposed he couldn’t really argue with that. But Arnold was the hero of all of Hillwood, and his entire neighborhood had been declared a state landmark, making sure that Vine Street would never face that kind of destruction ever again.
He should have been happy. He was happy.
Except he wasn’t. All of the excitement of winning the day and saving the neighborhood faded away and left one thing. Confusion.
And it was all her fault. Arnold couldn’t stop thinking of her. Who, exactly?
‘I love you, Arnold! I’ve always loved you!’
Helga Geraldine Pataki had been running through his mind the second the adrenaline rush left his system, and it hadn’t stopped since then. Days seemed to blur as he tried, and failed, to forget about the frantic confession on the roof of the FTI headquarters.
“It was just the heat of the moment.” He mumbled. “She didn’t mean anything by it. It was all just a…a mean-spirited prank.” But that reasoning fell apart quickly, because it didn’t come from her, it came from him. It was his idea to give her the out, to give her the chance to take it back. It wasn’t her fault she took it. “...She’s in love with me.” He finally admits to the moon pouring in from his skylight. So the question was, how did he feel about her?
He thought back to every interaction he could remember with Helga, and it only served to confuse him even more. Why would she act the way she does, so malicious, so cold, so careless, if she loved him the entire time? That was a mystery he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. But it’s not like he didn’t know there was more to Helga than met the eye. Helga wasn’t just mean and heartless. He’d seen her be braver than anyone, selfless to a fault, and always did the right thing when it actually mattered.
So how did he feel about her?
The answer eluded him the entire night, and sleep did not find him easily at all, his rest filled with blonde hair and pink bows.
By the time a month had passed and school began to start up again, Arnold hadn’t been able to settle it. Whenever he had a quiet moment alone (which wasn’t often unless he fled up to his roof) he ended up dwelling on her. Helga was thankfully avoiding him like the plague, giving him plenty of time to think about…them.
After a long time of fighting his own emotions, he sighed. “I’m not in love with Helga. I don’t like-like Helga. Heck, we’re barely friends.” He nodded resolutely, running a hand over his face before heading downstairs. He had made his decision, and that was that.
But no plan survives contact with the enemy.
As Arnold came to school one day with Gerald, he’d spotted Helga running up the steps to PS 118 with Phoebe trotting behind. Without even thinking about it, he’d leaned on the door and kept it open for her.
“What gives, geekbait?” Helga snarled as she stepped through the door, Phoebe mumbling a thank you as she stepped through the hall. “Getting the pranks started early this year? I’m perfectly capable of opening a door by myself, you know.”
Arnold simply shrugged and smiled. “No pranks Helga. After all the help you gave us with Scheck, why shouldn’t I be nice to you?”
Helga blinked, and for a second he thought her face had turned pink, but she quickly shook her head. “Don’t get all schmaltzy on me paste-for-brains. I helped you out to save my own skin, so don’t go around telling people I’ve gone soft, because I haven’t!” She barked, shoving past him and stomping down the hall. Phoebe at least offered a small wave and a smile as she chased after her best friend.
Gerald walked up to Arnold, frowning. “Man, that Helga sure is a piece of work, isn’t she?” He asked with his hands on his hips.”
“Yeah…” Arnold did not smile, keeping his voice in a carefully neutral tone. “Come on, we don’t wanna be late just starting out in 5th grade.”
The day progressed within the usual routine, with Helga planting herself directly behind Arnold and shooting spitballs into his hair. Gerald gives him a wild look when Arnold’s face slowly goes more and more red with every spitball, but he doesn’t say anything. Arnold idly thinks that he really should be doing more to look upset. But it’s kind of hard to even fake being mad about the spitballs when he thinks of what they mean. ‘Notice me. Pay attention to me.’ and he just couldn’t bring himself to scowl or do more than just idly pick the wads of paper out of his hair, rolling them around in his fingers and just…continuing to think. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t blush. He just…keeps quiet.
As class ends, Arnold is slow to gather up his books, simply lagging behind. Everyone else thinks he’s just being Arnold, the hero of the neighborhood who always takes things easy so long as there aren’t any problems. It’s only Gerald who notices his eyes watching Helga like a hawk, his brow furrowing as Lila actually walks up to her and strikes up a conversation, and then going stock still when Helga actually talks to her like a normal person.
Gerald walks over and shakes him a little, forcing him to come back to earth. “Man, Arnold, you are more distracted than I’ve ever seen you. What gives?”
He’s about to answer when Lila says something, and Helga laughs. Not her usual sneering chortles, or even a polite chuckle, but an honest to god laugh.
‘What is Lila saying that’s so funny?’ Arnold thinks, his face slowly twisting into a scowl. He’s vaguely aware of Gerald saying something, but it goes in one ear and out the other until Gerald shakes him hard.
“Huh? What?” He blinks away whatever traitorous thoughts are forming in his head as Gerald now looks at him like he’s crazy.
“Man, are you hearing a word I’m saying or are you too busy glaring at Helga?” His best friend asked, an eyebrow raised inquisitively.
“Glaring? I’m not glaring at her.” Arnold denied, quickly shoving his remaining books into his backpack, forcing his eyes to not meet Gerald’s, who did not look one bit convinced.
“Then what, you’re looking at Lila?” Gerald asked. “I thought you weren’t into her anymore.”
“I’m not.” Arnold replied hastily, throwing his backpack on and throwing it over his shoulders and stomping out of the classroom, frustration settling on his shoulders like an itchy blanket because he didn’t know why he was feeling this way, like something sharp had wedged its way between his ribcage and just barely scratched at his heart every time he saw her. It was like every time he caught her bow out of the corner of his eye a flood of memories overwhelmed him, of her admitting her love for him, of her angrily yelling that she wrote volumes and volumes of poetry about him, that she made shrines devoted to him.
‘I wonder if she still has them. I’d like to see them.’ He thinks as he heads to his next class, unaware of his best friend walking just behind him, shaking his head wearily.
The basketball bounced off the asphalt as Gerald circled around Arnold, dribbling the ball lazily. “Man, you’re distracted. Are you even trying anymore, Arnold?”
“I’m trying.” Arnold snapped back. Gerald rolled his eyes and zipped past the blonde, heading for the basket, only for Arnold to quickly snag the ball out of his hands. He was about to rush past Gerald and make a shot when he saw it again, stopping in his tracks and not even noticing when Gerald lazily swatted the ball out of his clutches and made an easy layup, his feet frozen to the ground.
Helga was leaning on the chain-link fence separating PS 118’s playground from the street, talking with Lila again. Not any kind of argument, just…talking. Lila said something and Helga laughed again. He’s only ever heard Helga chuckling sinisterly when she thinks she’s got the upper hand, not actual laughter. He wanted to hear it, and the fact that Lila didn’t even appear to be trying made something in him simmer. He turned and walked toward them, ignoring Gerald’s cries for him to stop, stepping up to the girls with a smile. “Hey Lila, Helga.”
“Oh, hello Arnold.” Lila greeted with a wave.
Helga averted her eyes and scoffed. “What are you doing here, football head?”
“I’m just curious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two talking before, so I was wondering what you’d be talking about?” Arnold asked, hands shoved in his pockets.
“Oh we were talking about literature and poetry. Helga’s ever-so well-read!” Lila chirped, and Arnold somehow could sense something going on in her tone. Did she always have that edge to her voice? “We were just talking about Elizabeth Dickens.”
“Oh really?” Arnold asked, turning to Helga, who crossed her arms and glared.
“Yeah, what’s it to you, Arnoldo? A girl can’t appreciate some literature in this day and age?” Helga groused.
“Oh no, not at all. I was just remembering some great poetry I found once. It was in a little pink book, and it was kinda the best stuff I’ve ever read.” He explained, and a little thrill went through him when Helga’s eyes widened a bit.
“Oooh, I think I’d like to hear it if I could. Do you have the book?” Lila asked and Helga whirled on her, glaring daggers sharper than anything.
“I don’t,” Arnold lied smoothly, “but I remember my favorite poem from them.” Arnold answered, shooting a glance at Helga, who was practically steaming. “Cowlicks, like fields of yellow corn–”
“Criminy, I don’t have time to listen to you rattle off some nonsense poetry, football head.” Helga growled, shoving him out of the way as she stomped off. “Later, pigtails.” Both Lila and Arnold watched her go, Arnold with a confused look on her face and Lila with one of dawning comprehension.
Arnold turned around to leave when Lila circled around him, a look on her face that Arnold didn’t recognize from her. “So, Arnold…” She began, a coy smile blooming on her face. “What really brought you over to talk to me and Helga?”
“What are you talking about?” Arnold answered. “I told you I was just curious.”
“Oh, Arnold, I’m oh-so certain that you’re not fooling anyone.” He blinked in shock as Lila stepped forward, hands behind her back with a sweet smile he used to find cute, but now he can’t help but think he was looking at a predator. “You know, you can’t really control who Helga hangs out with.”
Arnold stiffened, averting his eyes. “I’m not trying to do that. I was just curious.”
But Lila just continued as if he hadn’t said anything. “I also think you should control yourself a bit better. It’s okay that you like Helga, but you can’t go around staring at everyone she talks to quite so angrily.”
“I’m not staring. I’m not watching her. She’s just…catching my eye, that’s all.” Arnold answered with a frown.
“Oh yes, Helga is quite eye-catching, isn’t she? Despite her misgivings, she’s pretty enough to be a model, smart enough to be classified as a genius, witty enough to be a great conversationalist. Yes, she’s quite a girl isn’t she?” Arnold turned to Lila, a surprised look on his face as he examined her. “It’s a pity she’s only got eyes for you.”
“What…?” Arnold asked, struck dumb by the auburn-haired girl’s tone. Was she always this…devious? “What are you talking about?”
“Oh you can’t fool me Arnold. Helga told me about her feelings for you some time ago. I think it’s quite interesting to see you acting this way. And you’re acting so unsurprised about it too. I imagine something happened between you recently that’s caused this shift in your behavior.” When Arnold didn’t answer, Lila’s voice lowered a bit. “Apparently not enough happened. I wonder if I might have a shot then.”
Arnold blinked wildly, that sharp thing stuck in his ribs he refuses to name twisting into his heart. “You like Helga, Lila?”
“I think I could.” Lila replied with a coy little smile he recognized slightly from his time trying to win her affections. “She’s smart, funny, well-learned, and kind…when she isn’t so defensive. If you’re not going to take your chance, I might as well, right?”
Arnold couldn’t help but growl a little. The thought of Helga acting towards Lila the way she’d acted toward him on that day at the top of FTI’s headquarters burned in his mind, and his shoulders shook with the force of his emotions.
Lila giggled behind her hand like this was some kind of sweet conversation and their dynamic hadn’t just changed completely. “There it is. It’s ever-so cute how possessive you are of her before you’re even an item.”
“I’m not possessive of her. Helga’s her own person.” Arnold grumbled, not meeting her eyes. “I don’t want to control who she talks to and who she dates. That’s none of my business.”
“Oh really? Then why’d you come over here in the middle of a basketball game with Gerald?” Lila supposed, and Arnold’s eyes went back to the court, where Gerald was watching him with the flattest possible look. “You completely abandoned your best friend to go talk to two people you’re barely even friends with? Seems mighty suspicious to me.”
Arnold’s shoulders shook and his scowl only seemed to deepen as what he was feeling seemed to try and claw its way out of him. After a second, Arnold sighed deeply and relaxed. “It’s nothing Lila. I’ve gotta get back to the game.”
“Of course, Arnold. Don’t let me stop you.” As she watched him walk away, her smile turned a touch smug. “I wonder what her lips taste like…”
Without thinking, Arnold turned to her and said, “she wears vanilla lip gloss.” Lila’s smile began to show teeth, and he walked away faster, face bright red.
‘I’m not in love with Helga. That’s not what this is. I’m just…noticing her other sides now.’ He thought as he rejoined Gerald at the court.
“You’re a bold kid, Arnold. A bold kid.” Gerald said simply with a shake of his head. “Going after Helga G. Pataki, your personal tormentor like that? That’s some crazy stuff, man.”
“I’m not going after her, Gerald.” Arnold snapped, more angry-sounding than he wanted to. “I’m just…noticing her is all.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. Well, now that she’s gone, maybe we can actually play some ball for longer than five seconds?” Arnold nodded and grabbed the ball, determined to forget all about his thoughts of Lila asking Helga out.
He didn’t sink a single basket the entire rest of recess.
Arnold sat on his bed, staring at his shelves listlessly. Two artifacts from his collection leaped out at him because of course they did. The first was a simple red shoe, formal maybe but designed to be comfortable for someone of their size, kept as a memento after a date with a mysterious blonde went awry, with a small promise that they’d see each other again. The second was a little pink book, the pages worn from endless rereading. He could recite every stanza of poetry contained within by heart, the mystery of who’d written it haunting him for over a year.
But with the benefit of hindsight, he could finally recognize that both the mysterious Cecille and the unidentified author were the same person. Her. Helga G. Pataki. His stomach flipped as he realized that every memento he’d kept, from one of Mighty Pete’s acorns to the Tone Master 2000 keyboard to his old top hat from when he’d tried magic, all of it reminded him of her and just how present she was in his life.
Arnold stared down at the shoe still held in his hands like it was made of glass, then to the poetry book sitting at his feet, then to his shelves of mementos, meant to help him remember his friends, but now every single one made him think of blonde hair, pink bows, and derisive sneers.
“...Man.” He groaned, the single word hanging in the air of his bedroom. His mind wandered to that cloudy early morning, her in that oversized trenchcoat, her pigtails waving in the wind as he kept pushing and pushing for the truth until she finally snapped, confessed her unwavering, undying love for him and then…grabbed him and kissed him. His face still flushed from the memory. It hadn’t been a bad kiss, per se, but he wasn’t prepared for it at all, the stress of needing to save the neighborhood from Scheck, the present danger they were in, and Gerald waiting for them had all made him…hesitant. And then afterward there simply hadn’t been time, since they were running on a clock to stop an army of bulldozers.
And then there was after everything had settled, of them standing together after everyone else was celebrating. The slow prodding to get Helga to start denying it again, the opportunity given for her to take back those awkward, breathtaking words, then her taking the chance to get things back to normal.
Why had she done that?
Why had he given her the chance to? At the time, he thought he was being nice, that Helga really DIDN’T mean anything she’d said, that he’d just pushed her into a corner until she shouted something he would believe.
But now he wasn’t so sure. It was like someone had cracked his skull open like an egg, pulled out every memory, and rearranged them to fit into a completely new pattern, all of it focused on her in a way he could never, ever ignore. Every insult, every spitball, every derisive call of ‘football head’ now completely recontextualized in an utterly maddening way, leading to a conclusion that, if he denied it, would be like trying to sell the night sky in its impossibility.
She loved him. Not liked, not like-liked, love. The sheer weight of the word crashed onto his shoulders, and he idly thought that Helga had been carrying the burden of that word for what sounded like years. She thought about him all the time in an all-consuming tornado of passion and fury. And if Arnold was being honest with himself…he was watching her all the time too.
Not in the same way, not as intensely…or so he thought. Gerald had definitely noticed. And if he noticed, then Phoebe had definitely noticed. Lila had noticed it in about thirty seconds.
Lila.
There was that other feeling again. Not being overwhelmed by Helga’s feelings or the strange heat on his face when he thought about her, but that other feeling. Arnold smacked a hand over his face and dragged. The idea of Lila, or anyone, asking Helga out should not have bothered him. It shouldn’t make his heart feel like it was about to break out of his chest and punch someone in the face.
But it did.
Every time he imagined it, his brain violently pushed against it. Not because Lila, or anyone, dating Helga was bad, but just because…
Helga loved him.
That feeling rose in his chest again, and in the private sanctuary of his room, Arnold could safely grapple it down and identify it. Jealousy, burning hot through his veins like lava, and Arnold hated the feeling. It wasn’t like he was dating Helga. He hated the idea of owning her, and he had no doubt that she would feel the same way. Helga could date anyone she wanted, whether it was a boy, a girl, Lila, Stinky, hell, she could have dated Harold and Arnold shouldn’t care.
But every time he imagined all of Helga’s intensity, her devotion, her passion, being given freely to another, Arnold felt at the same time angry but also incredibly sad. Like someone had taken an important piece of him and ripped it out. His eyes flicked upwards, to the tiny hat sitting on his head. He had enough pieces of him missing, thank you very much. He hated that thought, it was selfish and unfair, but once the thoughts started coming they wouldn’t stop. His eyes roamed over his collection again, the shoe and the pink book almost staring back at him if his imagination wandered away from him.
The years and years of Helga just…being in his life, and all the memories associated with them, so completely that he hadn’t even noticed it was happening. And maybe…maybe he was enjoying the attention. He was always watching her, being there for her no matter how many times she pushed him away, insisting she wasn’t as mean as she claimed, believing, no matter her actions, that she was a normal, maybe even sensitive person deep down, if only she weren’t so afraid to show it.
Well, she certainly stopped being afraid on that rooftop, hadn’t she?
He knew the sound of her laughter, he knew how she sounded when she was lying, he knew when she was upset, even when she didn’t want anyone to notice. And he knew most of all, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the version of Helga most people saw wasn’t the whole picture of who she was. Hell, it might not’ve even been half the picture. Not after all he’d seen of her. He’s seen her passionate, he’s seen her forlorn, he’s seen her smile and laugh in ways that made his heart flip remembering them.
She’s not Helga the Horrible, Helga the Bully, Helga his personal tormentor.
She’s just Helga. Funny, passionate, so smart it makes his head spin, mean one second, then lonely the next. Bitterly, hopelessly, addictively complicated. And most terrifying of all, she was important to him.
“No…” Arnold grumbled, dragging his hands over his skin as if he could still argue with himself. But the evidence was all throughout his mind and strewn all throughout his room. Normal people who weren’t in love didn’t hold on to so many mementos, especially ones so personal. Normal people didn’t get so bitterly jealous over the idea of them moving on. Normal people didn’t spend weeks replaying a confession in their heads, one that he’d tried to erase.
Arnold looked down at the poetry book again, gently running a hand over the cover almost reverently. “...I think I might like Helga.” He muttered. The single sentence hit Arnold’s chest like a bomb, making his ticker beat louder than ever as he let out a single undignified laugh and leaned back, his head hitting the pillow with an air of finality as Arnold looked up at the sky as the sun slowly yielded ground to the moon, covering Arnold’s vision in pinks and purples before gently settling into darkness.
When he thought about how that paralleled his feelings about a certain blonde, he let out a groan. “Oh man, I’m completely over the moon for her, aren’t I?” No one answered him but his own thoughts, which silently echoed back ‘Yes, yes you are.’