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The lunch room of PS 118 was buzzing with its usual brand of chatter and chaos. Harold was shaking the vending machine for daring to take his dollar, Stinky letting out a pleased hum with every spoonful of his favorite lemon pudding, Curly had somehow gotten his hands on an acoustic guitar and was absolutely massacreing a classic song in yet another attempt to get Rhonda’s attention, who was pointedly putting her airpods in and turning on her music, and at their usual table, Arnold was rooting through his backpack frantically while Gerald sipped his water with the look of a man watching a live bomb being defused.
“Man, are you sure you’re ready for this?” Gerald asked.
Arnold perked his head up. “What do you mean?”
“You are about to ask Helga G. Pataki out on an actual date, and in front of witnesses! I know you’re bold, Arnold, but that’s a whole new level!”
Arnold shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. We’ve been together for five years.”
“Yeah, and every time you’ve tried to make things a date, she reacts like a cat who just got their tail caught in a rocking chair. You sure you know what you’re doing, man?”
Phoebe sipped her apple juice, giving Gerald an admonishing glare. “Gerald, you know that’s not entirely accurate.”
Her boyfriend rolled his eyes. “Yeah you’re right, she screams more than a cat does.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes right back while adjusting her glasses. “She’s not the over dramatic nine year old she was, Gerald. Helga has made significant improvements since San Lorenzo.”
“Got it!” Arnold interrupted, whipping out the small envelope with a grin as he checked to make sure the prize within was still there.
Gerald let out a low whistle. “Geez Louise Arnold, who did you have to murder to get tickets AND backstage passes to Ironheade?”
Arnold shrugged. “I asked Dino if he knew the band, and the next day the tickets were in my mailbox.”
“I thought you didn’t like bugging Dino Spumoni.” Gerald inquired with a raised eyebrow.
Arnold’s face flushed and he averted his gaze. “This is different. Helga’s been talking about wanting to see them since Christmas.”
“You’ve been planning this since Christmas?” The taller boy whistled again. “You are a bold kid, Arnold.” Phoebe just offered Arnold an encouraging smile, but that stopped when the doors to the cafeteria were kicked open loudly, startling poor Eugene into spilling his chocolate milk all over himself. “She approaches.” Gerald hissed.
Helga stomped through the cafeteria, grabbing her tray and loading it up with food, pretending to be completely unaware of Arnold’s eyes on her the entire time. She makes her way over to the table and looks at Gerald and his spot at Arnold’s side. “Move it, geekbait.”
“You know, there’s also Arnold’s other side, Helga.” Gerald sneers, but he’s already moving, sliding his tray over to sit on the other side of the table next to Phoebe. Helga nods and sits down, her hand snagging one of Arnold’s french fries with practiced casualty.
After a moment of just eating their lunch, Arnold coughs into his hand and holds up the envelope, his eyes darting from her to the small folded white paper, betraying his nerves. “So uh, Helga…Ironheade is playing at the Quibly Arena this weekend. I managed to score two tickets.”
The entire table went silent, and even Peapod Kid slowed down as he passed to hear what was happening next. Helga swiped the tickets out of Arnold’s hands, her eyes going wide as she examined them, absorbing every detail. “You…you got nearly front row seats to Ironheade? My favorite metal band ever?”
“Yeah.” Arnold answered with a smile, scratching the back of his head. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go…with me. Like, a date.”
Everyone braced themselves for impact, for Helga to snap at Arnold about calling it a date. Gerald leaned away as if bracing for impact, Phoebe closed her eyes slowly, and as the seconds wore on, even Arnold felt himself begin to sweat.
“Yeah.” Helga nodded, handing the tickets back to Arnold. “Sure.”
Silence reigned for a second, before Gerald looked at Helga incredulously. “That’s it? Just sure?”
The blonde looked at Gerald, frowning deeply. “Is there a problem with your hearing, Geraldo?”
“What, no stubborn insistence that it’s not a date?”
“We’re sixteen, not nine, buddy. He got me tickets to Ironheade. I’d date a raccoon for halfway decent seats. What were you expecting, buster?” She replied. In response, Gerald clasped his hands against his cheek.
“Oh Arnold, my beloved, beacon of my tortured soul–”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll figure out a way to stab you with a carrot.” Helga snapped, eyes like daggers.
Gerald just laughed. “Now that’s the Helga G. Pataki I know.”
Meanwhile, Arnold leaned over to her, smiling. “So…it’s a date?”
“Yeah, sure it’s a date! Criminy, Arnold, you’re crowding me!” Helga scarfed down her food and stood up. “I’ve got an art project to work on, I’ll see you later, football head.” She walked out of the room, ignoring Arnold’s dreamy smile.
“Man, Arnold, you’ve got it bad.” Gerald shook his head as he watched his best friend stare after Helga like a lovestruck puppy, before he noticed his own girlfriend looking at her watch. “What are you doing, baby?”
“Oh don’t mind me, handsome.” Phoebe waved him off. “Just making a note of the time.”
Precisely 4 days, 3 hours, 20 minutes, and 13 seconds later, Phoebe had received a text. Ten minutes later, she was sitting at Helga’s desk, watching her best friend scream into her pillow. “Right on schedule.” She noted, doing her math homework as Helga had her nervous breakdown.
“This was a massive, nay, COLOSSAL mistake!” Helga whined.
“Helga, you’re just going to a concert with your boyfriend.” Phoebe replied, blithely turning a page. “There’s nothing unusual about that.”
“Oh sure, YOU say that, Miss Perfect Relationship!” Helga jerks her head out of the pillows and points accusingly at her best friend, who doesn’t react in the slightest. “You and Geraldo, always acting so cool, you don’t know the pressure I’m under, Phoebs!”
“That’s because the only pressure is in your mind, Helga.” Phoebe replied. The jab at her relationship didn’t bother her, Helga had made more than enough of them for her to know it was simple jealousy.
“This isn’t just us going somewhere, this is OFFICIALLY a DATE! What do people even do on dates?” Helga jumped out of bed and stomped to her closet. Arnold would be here in a matter of hours to pick her up, she had to be prepared.
“Nothing much, just what you and Arnold have already been doing for five years.” Phoebe sighed, letting a bit of irritation sneak into her voice. She really hadn’t wanted to spend all day talking Helga off of metaphorical ledges, but a best friend’s work is never done.
“No way, there’s gotta be something else! Going out for ice cream was fine, going out to the movies was fine, but this? This is a big thing! One that costs a lot of money!” Phoebe made a small note in her phone and Helga whirled at hearing the keyboard click. “Are you documenting me? Like some kind of wild animal?”
“You have to admit, you are a fascinating specimen, Helga.” Phoebe answered, turning back to her homework. Helga growled, clenching her hand around the knob of her closet door before wrenching it open and throwing out every outfit she could think of. She grabbed a pink sequined top and held it to her chest.
“What do we think Phoebs? Too much?”
“Yes.” Phoebe didn’t even look up.
Helga growled and grabbed a dark button up. “How about this?”
Phoebe did turn this time. “...Helga, this is a rock and metal music concert, button ups don’t really factor into it.”
“Yeah you’re right.” Helga groaned. Outfit after outfit was tossed haphazardly back into her closet as Helga frantically tried to figure something out, when she suddenly stopped. “Wait…what if Arnold wants this to mean something?” Phoebe was about to interrupt when Helga just barreled past her, now pacing back and forth. “What if this is supposed to be like…some kind of milestone? LIke…like he wants to go steady?”
Phoebe sighed. “Helga, you and Arnold have been dating for five years. Steady left the station long ago.”
“What if this is some convoluted plan to propose to me?” Helga slapped her hands over her head, eyes wide and frantically darting everywhere. “What if he wants us to be like…those couples that own matching shirts and actually communicate?”
Phoebe stepped forward and cocked her hand back, smoothly slapping Helga across the face. “You’re getting hysterical, Helga, stop it.”
Rubbing her cheek, Helga nodded. “Thanks, pal. Jeez, have you been working out? I feel like my teeth have gone numb.”
Phoebe smiled. “Thank you for noticing!” But then her face grew serious. “Helga, Arnold wants to go out with you. You have to know that the actual event is irrelevant.”
“...You really think so, Phoebs?” Helga asked quietly.
“I know so, Helga. It’s just a fact.” She crossed her arms and nodded.
“Thanks…you’re a good friend.” Phoebe smiled, but then Helga grabbed another outfit. “Well, as long as you’re here, what about this one?” Phoebe couldn’t help but sigh.
Twenty minutes later, the situation had deteriorated further as Helga’s spiralling about her relationship was quickly being replaced with anger at the fact that nothing in her wardrobe was working for her. She stepped out of her closet wearing a dark jacket over a pink shirt and black jeans along with her usual red sneakers. She looked good, more than good even. She slowly frowned. “I feel like I’m trying too hard.”
Phoebe groaned, her patience thoroughly shot. “Helga, you’re wearing jeans. You’ve been trying too hard for hours, this is the first time you’ve been casual all day.”
“I need a second opinion.” Helga muttered, taking a second to gather herself before stepping out the door and down the stairs, ignoring Phoebe’s cries that second opinions have never helped. She descended the stairs and spotted her father sitting at his recliner, lazily watching a game show. She took a deep breath, and approached. “Hey, Bob.”
Bob was many things, but perceptive was never one of them. “Yeah what do ya need, Olga?”
Helga flinched. “...How do I look?” The awkward tension could be cut with a knife. Bob looked Helga up and down, eyebrow quirked, while Helga slowly began to sweat.
“...Fine, now let me get back to the show, criminy.” He grunted. Phoebe quickly grabbed Helga and yanked her up the stairs before she could unleash a screaming tirade. Instead, Helga had immediately begun to pace again.
Phoebe sighed, pulled out her phone, and began to text Gerald. ‘Check on Arnold please. I’m managing the Pataki Crisis.’
‘I don’t need to check on Arnold! He’s Arnold! He’s fine.’
‘Gerald.’
‘...Fine, fine, but I’m telling you, he’s gonna be cool as a cucumber.’ Gerald replied, and quite frankly, Phoebe didn’t buy it.
Gerald spent the entire walk to the boarding house convinced Phoebe was just being paranoid. Not wrong necessarily, he’d NEVER say his girlfriend was ever wrong, but definitely exaggerating. Arnold was Arnold. Even in the worst crises imaginable, Arnold never lost his cool. He was annoyingly optimistic and confident to the point of irritation. Arnold kept looking on the bright side when a mad billionaire was trying to destroy their homes, for pete’s sake! Arnold was not going to crack going on a date with Helga G. Pataki. He stepped up the stoop to the boarding house with utter confidence and knocked on the door to be answered by Grandpa Phil.
“Oh hey there, little man! You here to see the Short Man?” At Gerald’s nod, he turned and opened the door. Miles and Stella were camped out in the living room, looking ready to pounce with a camera. Not a good sign. “He’s up in his room, but uh, word of advice, I don’t think you wanna go up there. Poor boy’s kinda losing it.” Gerald’s heart dropped into his stomach, but he had to press on, ascending the stairs one by one until he was directly up against Arnold’s door. He hesitated for only a moment before knocking.
There was a loud THUMP! Noise, and Gerald bit back a groan. “I’ve got this!” He heard Arnold’s voice, but it sounded a bit muffled.
“It’s me Arnold! I’m…” He took a second to rub his temples. “I’m here to help.” There was a second of silence before he could hear his best friend scrambling for the door and opening it.
“H-Hey, Gerald!” Arnold greeted casually, but he wasn’t fooling his friend for a second, noticing that Arnold’s hair was unnaturally-slicked back, the scent of body spray lingered in the air, and glancing behind him Gerald could spot a mountain of clothes. “I don’t see why you stopped by, I’m perfectly fine!” He said with a shaky smile.
“Uh-huh.” Gerald responded, sighing deeply. “I hate it when she’s right.” He easily shoved his way past Arnold into his room, observing the state of things. The mountain of clothes held nearly everything he’d ever seen Arnold wear in their entire friendship, even some things that didn’t even fit the blonde anymore. The tickets were sitting on Arnold’s computer table, with the desk lamp on despite the early hour, enshrining the slips of paper in light, as if to make a massive reminder for Arnold to not lose them. Gerald sighed and flopped on Arnold’s couch. “Alright man, spill. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on, what do you mean?” Arnold lied extremely poorly, a nervous grin on his face.
Gerald tilted his head suspiciously, looking past Arnold to his computer desk. “Is that an itinerary spreadsheet?” He asked, and Arnold’s face turned red.
“L-Look, I just need a second opinion…”
“No, what you need is professional help, but we’ve crossed that bridge a long time ago. C’mon man, no secrets between us. I’ll give you a one-time free pass to talk about your relationship with Pataki.”
Arnold sighed, running a hand through his hair, finally slumping. “I…It’s our first real date. I just want this to go right. I know Helga’s freaking out about it, and I…just want her to relax around me.”
Gerald can’t help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all, knowing that just a few blocks away, Helga right now was running his own girlfriend ragged through her entire wardrobe, shaking his head. “Man, asking Helga G. Pataki to relax around you is like asking Harold to give up ice cream, it just ain’t gonna happen.” His chuckles grew at Arnold’s indignant look. “Look man, this really isn’t that big a deal. You and Helga have been dating for years, one trip to a concert really isn’t going to do much. You don’t have to dress up or make sure everything goes perfectly. Not to sound like a sappy broken record, but you just have to be you. She’s been completely gaga for you for ages, she’s not gonna break up with you over something like this.”
“Yeah, but it’s our first real date…!” Arnold pleaded, and Gerald sighed and stepped forward to shake him by his shoulders.
“You’ve been going on dates for AGES, man! This ain’t your first real date, and it’s driving me wild that you two are acting like we’re in fourth grade again!” Gerald shouted, and Arnold sighed and sat down on the couch.
“Alright, alright…you’re right Gerald, I gotta relax.” He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair for a moment. “Think you can help me pick out an outfit?”
Gerald shook his head. “Boy, Helga likes you so much you could probably show up wearing nothing but burlap and she’d still think you were god’s gift.”
“Not helping, Gerald.”
“Wasn’t supposed to be. So just PICK something already!” He demanded, shoving Arnold into the pile of clothes and exiting the room. “Never thought I’d be saying this, but…Criminy, Arnold, get it together!”
“Shut up!” Arnold replied through the door, making his best friend double over cackling. In just a few minutes, Arnold had stepped out down the stairs, wearing his plaid overshirt on the outside, a black t-shirt, and blue jeans. “So, how do I look?”
“Like you should’ve found this outfit two hours ago, man!” Gerald replied, but he extended his hand, and Arnold mirrored him to exchange their secret handshake. Right as Arnold was beginning to calm down, his Grandpa came up the stairs.
“So, finally stopped losing your hair over your date, Short Man?” Phil asked with a cackle.
“I wasn’t losing my hair, Grandpa.” Arnold answered with an exhausted smile.
Gertie peeked up from the staircase with a grin. “Oh, look at him, my little grandson is growing up…!” She comically sniffed, before her face turned grim. “Now get yer keister downstairs, soldier, your mother wants photos.” Arnold groaned, but Gerald could see the look of delight on his face.
“Oh look at our little man, Miles!” Stella cooed, snapping photo after photo. Arnold’s face went red and he held onto his arm, but even after all this time Gerald knew he could still not believe that he had his parents for moments like this.
“So, son, are ya nervous?” Miles asked, crossing his arms with a coy smile.
“Nah, not at all, I’ve got this.” Arnold shrugged, trying to look relaxed.
“Uh-huh.” Miles nodded, eyebrow raised. “Is that why you still smell like that new body spray stuff?” Arnold’s face went bright red and the entire Shortman family, and Gerald, erupted into laughter.
Finally getting his wits about him, Phillip clapped Arnold on the shoulder. “Alright, it’s nearly six-thirty, it’s about time for you to pick up your girlfriend.” Arnold groaned loudly and the family lit up with cackles once again.
Gerald now stood beside Arnold in front of the Pataki house, hearing the sounds of something physically fighting to stay inside. Gerald turned to Arnold, eyebrow raised. “You got this man?”
Arnold averted his eyes, adjusting his overshirt for the fifth time in two blocks of walking. “Yeah…yeah I got this…I think.” He sighed. “I just don’t want to pressure her.”
Gerald rolled his eyes. “It’s Helga. You could say hi and she’d bust a gasket.”
“Gerald!”
As if on cue, Helga’s front door flew open, and a very haggard-looking Phoebe nearly fell down the stairs, making Gerald scramble to steady her. “I’m not going out there!” Helga’s voice rang out.
Phoebe stomped her foot. “Helga Geraldine Pataki, you will come out here right now or I swear I will commit hara-kiri!” She shouted back.
“Uh…what’s Hara-kiri?” Gerald asked, Arnold shrugged.
“Oh you did not just mom me, Phoebs.” Helga snarled from her hiding spot.
“NOW, Helga!” Phoebe snapped once more. Slowly, Helga stepped through the door, in her black leather jacket and red shoes, looking at Arnold.
In an instant, it was like all tension had left Arnold’s body. His shoulder’s loosened, his eyes softened, and his posture went from ramrod straight to casual slouching. “Oh. Hey.”
Helga likewise seemed to relax, leaning against her doorway with a loose smile. “Hey yourself, football head.” Phoebe descended the stairs hand in hand with Gerald, shooting her boyfriend a very annoyed look that he earnestly returned.
“You look nice.” Arnold stated simply, and Helga’s face turned pink. “The Packard’s parked around the corner. Are you ready to go?”
“Sure, so long as your grandpa doesn’t mind his precious car getting stained with ten dollar nacho cheese sauce that comes from a barrel.” Helga snarked back, extending her hand, which Arnold gently took, and the pair walked off without a word.
Gerald and Phoebe watched them go, before the tall haired boy wiped his brow dramatically. “Babe, I love you and all, but I am NEVER doing that again.”
Phoebe nearly collapsed with how hard she sighed. “Agreed. Hopefully this will be the last time. I think after this I need a break.”
Gerald smiled and offered the crook of his arm to her. “Then may I reward the brave young lady with some ice cream? My treat.” Phoebe smiled and wove her arm through his, making Gerald’s smile grow into a full-blown grin. “Do you think we can consider this a date too?”
“Don’t even start, Gerald.”