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Helga G. Pataki was having an awful, awful day. She’d already awoken to the feeling that something was deeply, terribly wrong. Her alarm clock stared back at her, utterly dead. Her eyes slowly opened wider as she scrambled for her phone, turning it on and seeing the numbers glaring back at her.
9:17.
Nine Seventeen.
Helga slowly bared her teeth, her brow creasing in rage as she glared at the screen, her hand clenching around the delicate device. “Fantastic.” She growled. “Just fucking dandy, even.” She could imagine a little voice in her head admonishing her for swearing, but she was in no mood to listen to it right now. She was over an hour late for school already and she had no time for niceties. She quickly rolled out of bed, got dressed, brushed her hair to a semblance of order, grabbed her backpack and headed downstairs. She could already feel that all-too familiar cloud of doom hovering over her head, that sense of dread that told her this entire day was already going to be an awful experience and she had only barely gotten out of bed, but damn if Helga G. Pataki was going to let herself be defeated by something like that. The living room was as noisy as ever, and Helga could only grit her teeth as she heard Miriam’s blender going off. Bob was already yelling into his cellphone about some kind of pricing dispute. No one even greeted her when she came downstairs or said anything about her being late. As usual.
‘Behold, the gentle, nurturing environment of the Pataki household. The cub is over an hour late for her education and neither adult notices. Utterly inspiring, nature is beautiful.’ Helga bitterly thought to herself as she rushed to pour herself a cup of coffee.
“Criminy, I’m late! Why didn’t anyone wake me up?” She barked as she spooned sugar into the cup.
Bob glared at her, muting his phone for a grand total of three seconds. “You’re seventeen years old, what am I, your butler?”
“I’m thirteen, Bob.” Helga ground out, but her father had already turned back to his phone. She was just about to drain her coffee and soothe her scalded tongue when the phone rang. Miriam didn’t move, simply staring into her coffee.
“Get that.” Bob answered, pointing at Helga before turning back to his conversation.
“Oh sure, because I’m not over an hour late for school already.” Helga glowered, but Bob wouldn’t let her go until she did, so she grabbed the receiver and held it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Oh hello, Baby Sister!” Olga’s voice rang out, and Helga could feel a migraine forming already. Clearly, Fate and Destiny had collaborated to push her to commit a murder today.
“Olga, good to hear from you, but I’m really late for school, I shouldn’t even be–”
“Oh yes, how is school for you baby sister? Are you doing well?” Olga asked, not taking the hint that Helga needed to go.
“I’m doing fine, Olga.” Helga replied, rubbing her temples. “I have a presentation today, and I’m late–”
“Oh yes, good luck on your presentation sister!” Olga chirped. “Do be careful up there, do you still get stage fright?”
Helga had never gotten stage fright in her life. She’d organized, written, and choreographed a school play when she was nine. “I’ll be fine, Olga.”
“Well, don’t worry too much, Helga. If you mess up, people are nicer than we usually imagine.” Helga ground her teeth at being condescended to like that.
“I gotta go Olga, talk to Miriam.” She snapped, shoving the phone into Miriam’s hands, her mother seeming to finally function as a real person the second the prospect of talking to her beloved daughter came up. She rushed back to the coffee pot and grabbed her lunchbox and thermos. There was no time for even a sandwich, but she could at least fill up the thermos with coffee and rely on caffeine to get her through the day.
Bob stomped through the kitchen, his prodigious gut slamming into Helga’s back. She jerked, the pot went wild, and the brown liquid ended up spilled all over her favorite sweater.
“Watch where you’re goin’, missy.” Bob grumped, and Helga felt like exploding. She shoved the coffee pot back onto the burner and stomped upstairs to change. Three minutes later, she rushed out the door, luckily remembering to grab an umbrella before stepping out into the deluge of rain outside.
‘And so the cub departs into the storm of the gods, armed with nothing but her wits, less caffeine than she’d like, and the incredibly thin thread of sanity she grasps like a lifeline in a world of madness.’
And all the while, a very important blue folder sat on her desk, completely untouched.
Getting to school had already been a chore due to waiting for the bus taking longer than just walking at this point, so Helga simply powerwalked down the soaking sidewalk, trying to anticipate every disaster that could continue to befall her, fully expecting something like a piano to fall on her and end her life right then and there. Instead as she rounded a corner, a bus hit a pothole and sent a tidal wave of muddy water toward her. She managed to jump back, but her shoes and legs had been soaked all the way up to her knees.
“Criminy, this day just keeps getting better.” She bitterly noted as she crossed the final road to get to PS 118, nearly slipping on the rainsoaked steps, but she refused to be beaten by something as stupid as rain. The massive red doors opened and Helga stomped through the empty halls, heading for her second period class. If she was lucky some horrible mishap had happened to Eugene and his presentation had been such a dumpster fire that it would take up the entirety of class. Her foot hit something slippery, and her foot went up in the air, and Helga barely had the time to roll to prevent herself from falling completely on her face.
WHAM!
Helga groaned as she felt her back hit the hard, cold linoleum. Her eyes roamed over the hallway, trying to find the demon that had tripped her, and her eyes landed on her foot, seeing the plastic film seal of a container of lemon pudding. ‘Oh Stinky’s a dead man.’ Helga snarled, getting back to her feet and shoving the seal into a trash can on the way, forcing to swallow her pride and opening the door to Miss Rutherford’s class.
“Ah, Miss Pataki.” The bitter old crone that one could generously call a history teacher sneered from her place at her desk. No one liked Miss Rutherford, she had a reputation as the meanest, most no-nonsense teacher in all of the 7th grade. Phoebe looked so happy to see her, but everyone else in the class had kept their noses in their books. “So good of you to join us.”
“Yeah sorry about that, I–”
“Life doesn’t have time for your excuses, Miss Pataki. Sit down.” Miss Rutherford barked, and Helga resisted the urge to snap at the teacher and end up in detention, and simply marched over to her seat and plunked herself down. Phoebe offered her a sympathetic look, but Helga ignored her, simply focusing on keeping her temper at bay as she listened to Harold drone on about the history of butchery, about the only subject he was ever passionate about. She grabbed her backpack and dug through it, expecting to see the blue folder she’d chosen specifically because it reminded her of her beloved’s favorite hat. It wasn't there. Helga’s eyes widened as she remembered. She’d left it on her desk because she’d stayed up late and because she’d woken up late, the stupid thing was now STILL sitting on her desk and not in her backpack where it should be!
‘Oh no. No nononoonononononono!’ She thought frantically. No folder, no pages and pages of notes. No neat and concise speech about Frida Kahlo that could only take five minutes.
“Miss Pataki?” Miss Rutherford’s voice felt like a dagger between her ribs. “I believe we’re ready for your presentation.”
Helga gulped down her nerves and offered her a shaky smile. “About that, Miss R. I seemed to have left my folder with all my notes at home.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate.” The witch of a teacher shook her head the same way she always hated seeing, the one that said they didn’t care one bit about her students. “I’m afraid I’ll have to give you a zero for this project, Helga.”
“Oh c’mon!” Helga stood, slapping her palms on her desk. “I did the work, can’t I just do it tomorrow? Or just give you the notes for a partial grade? Something?”
“Miss Pataki, the presentation was assigned over a month ago, if you forgot your folder, that is your responsibility, not mine. If you actually cared about this assignment, you would have it on time.” Miss Rutherford replied icily, her tone indicating that the discussion was over. “Now sit down and let a student who actually came to class prepared do their presentation or I’ll be forced to give you detention.”
Helga slumped in her chair, feeling like life had just kicked her in the teeth. Phoebe offered a sympathetic glance. “Criminy…” Helga muttered, already feeling awful, and just wishing the universe would swallow her whole. Class passed by quietly after that, although not without Miss Rutherford sending her looks.
Between classes, Wolfgang bumped into her. “Watch where you’re going, Pigtails!” He barked.
Helga whirled on him, grabbing the older boy by the shirt and shoving him into the lockers before he’d reacted. “Maybe watch where you’re lugging around all that fat, Wolfgang, or I swear you’ll be shitting teeth for a week. Capische?” Wolfgang, utterly unused to being stood up to, nodded timidly, walking off like he hadn’t just capitulated to a girl two years his junior.
‘I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Completely fine. A perfect image of composure and stability.’
“Golly Helga,” Stinky muttered from the lockers. “What side of whose bed did you wake up on?”
“Shut up, Stinky.” Helga snapped. “You left your lemon pudding on the ground and I slipped on it. You better be more careful, or I’ll rip off your humongous nose and make you eat it.” Stinky clammed up and offered an apology before darting off.
Phoebe had bought her lunch, and Helga thanked her for being quiet and eating quickly. The food kept her energy up, but it was like everything was too loud, too annoying, too close. “Helga, are you certain you’re alright?” Phoebe asked, and bless her best friend, she didn’t deserve to deal with her in this state.
“I look alright, don’t I?” Helga asked, crushing her straw in her hand.
“...Your eye is twitching.”
“I’m aware, Phoebe.” Helga growled out through her teeth, and Phoebe accepted the answer and left her alone.
Rhonda slid into the table, inspecting her nails, and Helga bristled at the fact that she had not invited the brunette to sit with them. “Honestly, Helga, that was awful. Miss Rutherford really is too much of a dictator.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it Rhondaloid.” Helga snarled, while Phoebe was making frantic throat-cutting gestures at Rhonda, who of course didn’t notice.
“Well if it makes you feel any better, we all forget things sometimes. Why one time last month I wore silver jewelry with summer colors and–”
“Princess.” Helga snarled, and the wealthier girl finally looked up from her nails to look the blonde in the eye. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Rhonda stared for a moment, then quietly got up and walked away to a table where Nadine watched her with a roll of her eyes.
“Helga, that was a little harsh.” Phoebe admonished gently. “She was trying to empathize.”
“Maybe, but she was tempting me to murder.” Helga responded, going back to her food quietly. The rest of lunch passed with Helga desperately trying to keep herself from snapping and committing a felony. The rest of school passed with Helga continuing to attempt to keep herself together, and failing. Brainy had appeared behind her three times in art class, resulting in a subtle stomp on his foot. Lila had asked her for a pencil during science, and Helga practically threw it at her. And Arnold, her poor sweet Arnold, kept his distance, only quietly offering a granola bar at the beginning of English, which Helga snatched and scarfed down, ignoring the easy smile he gave her that made her heart race and her face turn red, but he let her stew in her awful mood, ready and waiting for the right moment. Helga hated how much he knew exactly what she needed at the moment.
The second school had let out, Helga had bolted. Sometime around the third period the rain had finally stopped, and the sun had emerged, shining its brilliant light down on the blighted city she lived in, drying up the buildings and leaving only the largest puddles sitting on the street. She ignored Phoebe’s pleas for her to wait up and ran as fast as she could down the street, past the corner store, past Mrs. Vitello’s flower shop, past Mr. Green’s shop, finally stopping at the boarding house.
Sanctuary.
Helga climbed the fire escape, a habit so ingrained in her that it was second nature at this point. She knew if she knocked Phil and Gertie would let her go up to Arnold’s room, but she didn’t want to interact with anyone right now, so she hauled herself up the rusted steps, finally letting out a deep shuddering breath as she looked out over Vine Street. Here, up above everything so determined to drag her down, the exhaustion finally had begun to settle into her bones. The roof smelled like the light scent of rain, her body finally relaxed, flopping against the water tower, a wordless groan escaping her lips.
The door to the roof opened less than five minutes after her arrival, and of course he appeared. Arnold didn’t say anything at first, simply walking over to his grandma’s piano and sitting on the bench nearby. “Hey, Helga.” He greeted, as if he’d known she’d flee here after school. He sat himself down and patted the area next to him. “Wanna sit down with me? It’s probably drier.”
“Hey, Football Head.” She replied, slowly moving to sit next to him, drawing her knees up to her chest, suddenly feeling so small next to her beloved boyfriend. “You gonna just tell me all about how I’ve gotta look on the bright side of things?”
Arnold shook his head, still smiling. “Nope.”
“Good.” Helga nodded. Arnold waited for a moment, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his harmonica, rolling it over in his hands before putting it to his lips and beginning to play. Helga idly noted how amazing he was, that he could master or at least dabble in so many things and show a solid foundation for talent to be born for every single thing. The notes he played seemed to blend and mingle with the noise of the city around them, the sound of a passing car or the roaring wind creating a beautiful accompaniment to Arnold’s playing. He didn’t ask any questions, didn’t push for her to open up, just made himself available.
Slowly, she leaned on him, her head hitting his shoulder, his playing uninterrupted by her head leaning on his sturdy arms. “I had a really bad day, Arnold.” She said, her voice soft and fragile, surprising even herself.
“I know.” Arnold replied, slowly pausing his playing. He didn’t start trying to reassure her or make her feel better. He made her feel so…safe, so she kept going.
“It’s like the universe saw me and decided ‘You know who hasn’t suffered enough in life? Helga G. Pataki!’” She crowed, gesticulating with her hands, but not enough to dislodge her from his side. “My alarm clock got unplugged, Olga called and Bob MADE me answer when I was running late. Then he knocks me over, spilling coffee all over me, and doesn’t even say sorry.” The more she talked the more she began to quietly break, scooting closer to him as if he were a lifeline. “A bus splashed me, and then Miss Rutherford, the witch, gave me a zero because I forgot my folder, because I was up all night finishing it! I worked really hard on it too! Like, I actually tried!”
“I know you did, Helga. Even when you pretend you don’t, you always try.” Arnold replied.
“Don’t start, Arnoldo.”
“Sorry.” But Helga could feel rather than see the smile on his face.
“The worst part is…I wanted to see you all day, and I hate that I did. I almost bit Rhonda’s head off when she was TRYING to be nice for once, and I snapped three pencils in a rage. I just thought if I could have an hour with you, everything would be okay.”
Arnold slowly nodded. “I wanted to be with you too, but I know that school would be a bad time.” He let silence reign for about a second before adding. “Oh, I talked to Miss Rutherford by the way. I got her to let you show her your work tomorrow and she’ll grade you accordingly. She says you can’t get a perfect score, but she’ll consider a ninety-nine if your work is exceptional.”
Helga did lift her head now, looking at him with wide eyes. “You…You did?” She asked.
Arnold simply shrugged in response, smiling at her like he hadn’t done anything big. “You worked hard on it. It’d be a shame to fail just because of bad circumstances.”
Helga looked at him in wide eyes, letting her see the small glint of his green eyes. It was just like Arnold to know she needed help, to know she needed kindness, and of course it was him who provided it. ‘It was always him.’ Her mind supplied. Here, in this light, she could almost see the tiny three year old offering her his umbrella. Slowly she scooted closer, and Arnold made room for her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“Can…Can I stay here for a while?” She asked, almost kicking herself for feeling so damn fragile.
Arnold simply smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you want.” He replied. Helga smiled softly and leaned in, and he laid a gentle kiss to the top of her head. He looked up at the sky and began to sing.
‘You are my sun shine,
My only sun shine,
You make me happy,
When skies are gray.
You’ll never know dear,
How much I love you,
Please don’t take,
My sunshine away.’
The lullaby helped Helga slowly relax, and if she fell asleep on him, and woke up in his bed with his arms wrapped around her, neither of them said anything. She stayed with him as long as possible, with only a single phone call to Bob giving her the clear to stay until after dinner. She stayed attached to Arnold the entire time.
The next day, she did remember her folder, and got the highest grade possible.