Hey Arnold!: Silent Hillwood

By Demile

Chapter I: Worthless

Fifteen-year-old Helga Pataki emerged from the November morning drizzle into the crowded halls of Hillwood High. The main corridor was busy with students chattering, people rushing about, and a group of football players who are, nearly a month later, still gloating about their homecoming victory against Tacoma High.

She approached Sid who was leaning against his locker, frantically copying down something to a piece of paper.

"Hey Gifaldi, where's my homework?" Helga asked, casually resting up against the adjacent locker.

"Just a sec, I just have to copy down a few more lines…" And with that Helga snatched her paper from his hand.

"Hey! I wasn't finished!" Sid whined.

"Too bad, I have to turn this in in five minutes. Sid, what the hell is this?" Helga raised an eyebrow and shoved the paper in his face, pointing out the the little doodles of purple flowers, pink hearts and little cartoon cats.

"Oooops… I'm sorry, Emily got hold of it last night," Sid said, flinching a bit as if he was expecting to get whacked on the head by one of Helga's textbooks.

"Oh sure she did. Well then," Helga snatched the other paper from his hand then erased her name from the doodle-covered paper and wrote in Sid's. "You will hand in this one. Maybe you'll get extra credit for your artistic expression," She said as she stuck the other copy in her notebook.

"Why do you let her in your room anyway?" Helga asked.

"Who?" Sid raised an eyebrow.

"Em."

"Oh, well, I babysit when the 'rents are away. Have to keep an eye on my sis so I let her hang out in my room. She’s stays pretty occupied with video games. She's gotten pretty far with Resident Evil 5," Sid said, smiling.

Helga rolled her eyes, smirking. Typical Sid, getting his 6-year-old sister hooked on survival-horror games.

"Well, I better get going. I gotta turn in my biology homework," Helga turned and walked down the hall turning into the science lab. It was one of the largest classrooms in the whole school, lined with about twenty-five individual desks and five large counters that spread across the span of the entire room. The walls were covered with posters and shelves adorned with various knickknacks of some scientific significance. Besides the stuffed, dead animals hanging from the ceilings and roosting atop shelves and counters all over the room the most unsettling thing were the two large refrigerators Mr. Peters kept in the storeroom. He used them for storing animal corpses for use for the taxidermy class. Sid was convinced he had stashed a body or two in there.

Sid was paranoid, but Mr. Peters did have a creepy vibe about him. Perhaps he spent a bit too much time with his taxidermy. Supposedly one can catch him having conversations with Barney, the eyeless barn owl, at lunch.

When Helga entered the room she sat her homework on the front table and took her usual seat in the back corner, next to a shelf lined with formaldehyde filled jars containing pig feotuses, frogs and other such lab animals that had quickly met their demise for the sake of science. She wadded up her sweatshirt into a pillow and rested her head on it.

She was exhausted. She was up most of the night due to a heated argument she had gotten in with Big Bob. It started when Miriam burnt the tuna casserole they were going to have for dinner. Apparently it was “her own damn fault” that her mother killed dinner. The argument then escalated to Helga being an "irresponsible little brat" which then brought Bob to the point where he was once again pointing out each and every little flaw that Helga G. Pataki had and every little mistake Helga G. Pataki had made.

“And what does that say about you, Dad?”

It was an old argument, one that occurred often and one that usually ended with Helga slamming her bedroom door in Bob's face and listen to him yell through the door about being disrespectful until he either lost his voice or was distracted by the sounds of the 3AM reruns of "The Wheel" coming from the living room.

Helga felt herself just about to doze off when Phoebe slid into the seat next to her.

"Helga, Ohayoo gozaimasu," greeted the petite Asian.

"No Japanese today, Pheebs. I'm tired," Helga said groggily into her makeshift pillow.

"Up all night again?" Phoebe asked, concerned, wondering what it was that kept her up all night this time around.

"Miriam burnt the casserole."

Phoebe nodded, understanding exactly what that meant, having witnessed such an incident occur twice before.

The science teacher, Mr. Peters walked in the door and sat a stack of papers at his desk and picked up his role sheet and began to take count of the students in the room. When he finished he went over the next chapter of their books and instructed everyone to take notes on it. Helga lay there, gazing out the window, and scribbling down key phrases every so often eventually stopping when Mr. Peters veered in his lecture from cellular structure to genetic mutations, to genetic engineering and creation of Frankenstein-esque monsters. She wasn't too worried by her lack of notetaking, she had a good solid B in the class and she knew that if she missed some notes that Phoebe would just let her copy hers later.

The class eventually drew to a close and Phoebe nudged Helga from her half-sleeping trance and together they exited the room. There was only very light conversation as they made their way down the festively decorated hall to the red and green streamer-lined stairwell where they went their separate ways; Helga to World History and Phoebe to Geometry.

Phoebe took a seat in the front row and waited impatiently for Mr. Hendrickson to hand out back the graded tests from the previous Thursday. Phoebe smiled when she saw the large A+ scrawled across her paper in red ink.

About 5 minutes later Gerald entered the room.

"Hey there, sweet thang," He said as he sat down in an open seat behind Phoebe.

Phoebe turned to look at the dark-skinned boy.

"Well, aren't we charming today?" Phoebe teased. It was obvious that the two had a thing for each other. Gerald confessed it to her in the beginning of their freshmen year and it had been and endless flirt-a-thon between them ever since.

Several more minutes passed and the two of them grouped up with Arnold and began working on their in-class assignment.

Meanwhile, Helga sat pretending to listen to Miss Russell drone on about how Hitler drew in his followers through the power of speech and propaganda. It was the same lesson plan that the young teacher had used three days ago; she was convinced that they hadn't discussed such a topic. So there Helga sat, gazing, half-lidded at the pale yellow wall half-wondering if Miss Russell was aware that she had the speech patterns of a 1950’s science fiction robot, mechanical and monotonous.

After a while Helga noticed that people were shoving notebooks in their backs, a sure sign that class was coming to an end. Helga arose from her seat and exited the room before Miss Russell could even get her last few words in.

After lunch only two more classes lay before Helga. She attended creative writing without a qualm for it was her favourite for several reasons. Apart from getting to spend an hour writing, it was also the one and only class she shared with Arnold whom, much to her delight, would often sit with her to discuss their work. It was of no surprise that Helga was the favourited one in that class. Writing was probably the only thing she prided herself in at times. Sadly enough, she often felt she couldn’t even do that well.

When class ended Helga exited the building and made her way off of school grounds, effectively ditching Geometry.

She plunged her hands into her pockets and counted about five dollars and smirked. Ice cream sounded really delicious right now, even in the thirty-seven degree chill. She pulled on her sweatshirt and then her gloves and continued on down the block.

Slausen's greeted her with a warm gust of air from the heater as she walked in. She pulled off her gloves and shoved them away in the front pocket of her sweater and slid into a nearby booth.

"Hey there, what can I get ya?" a dark skinned young man, possibly a college student, leaned up against the table, tapping his pen against his little tablet of paper.

"How about a small sundae," Helga said, skimming the desert menu.

"Ain't it a little chilly for that?" He smiled, "What flavour ice cream?"

"Vanilla ice cream, no strawberry sauce, extra hot fudge, whipped cream, nuts, all that jazz," Helga said.

"Will do," The young man winked and started to walk away.

"Hey Felicia!" The waiter called out as he walked back to the kitchens.

"Yeah Jamie-baby?"

"Can ya start me a small sundae please? Vanilla, no strawberry sauce, extra hot fudge! I'll be there in a minute, I just gotta put some frozen food away."

"Sure thing!" she said cheerfully.

Felicia Banks was a pretty young thing. She had perfect ebony skin that appeared to be free of blemishes, honey brown eyes, long eyelashes, and long tendrils of brown ringlets cascading over her shoulders... or at least they would be had she not had her hair twisted into a braid hanging down her back.

"Excuse me, would you like nuts on your sundae?" Felicia asked from behind the counter. Helga looked up and nodded.

"Pile 'em on, sister," Helga said and Felicia smiled. A few more minutes passed and Jamie was back at Helga's table with her sundae.

"Here ya go, can I get you anything else?" He asked.

"Nah, that's it! Thanks!" Helga said, as she tasted a small spoonful of thick, hot fudge.

"Hey kid, you go to Hillwood High with my little bro, Gerald, don't ya?" He asked casually.

"Yeah," Helga nodded, wiping a bit of whipped cream from her upper lip. "He's in the same gym class as me."

"Thought so." Jamie said. "Hey, speaking of which, shouldn't you be in class right now?"

"Hm… Say, instead of interrogating customers aren't you supposed to be doing your job right now?” Helga snapped and Jamie-o blushed and walked away back to the kitchens.

Thirty minutes passed and Helga was savouring the last few bites of her now melted sundae. She scooted the empty dish aside and left $5.50 on the table next to the tab.

She left Slausen's and headed off in the direction of her home.

Helga watched her feet as she trudged through the muddy sleet, kicking an empty soda can down the sidewalk then running to catch up with it before kicking it again. She shuddered and put her hands in her pockets, half-wondering if it would snow later. Helga kicked the can hard into an alley and it clattered loudly against a dumpster. A stray cat darted out from under it, slightly startling Helga.

Helga sighed and started walking again, this time kicking a small rock.

“It’s coming!” Helga jumped, startled, letting out a small yelp in surprise as she felt a tug at her sweatshirt. She spun around and found herself face to face with a man. He was about her height with a rats nest of matted, brown hair tucked loosely under a tattered old beanie. His breath reeked of cheap whiskey and his soiled clothing reeked of sweat and urine. Helga took several steps back and gave a disgusted look to the bum.

“I don’t have any money, go away,” she sneered before turning to leave.

“The darkness! It’s coming!” he shouted, flinging himself toward Helga, grabbing her arm, “It’s coming for you!”

“What the? Get away from me!” Helga yelled, trying to pry the man’s hand away from her arm.

“Don’t let it consume…“ Helga balled up her fist and sucker punched the crazed homeless man right in the jaw, jerking her arm away from him. The man stumbled backward, clutching the side of his face, “You can’t stop it!” he screamed, pointing a finger to the sky, “There’s nothing you can do!” he yelled, drunkenly stumbling over his own feet as he hobbled back into the alley.

Helga took off running, stopping when she was a few blocks away and looking back.

“Criminy, what the hell was that about?” Helga shook her head and continued her walk home.

She knew that Big Bob shouldn't be home for another hour or so, so there would be no questioning as to how come she was walking in the door so soon after school letting out. Though she knew she would have to hear about it later, the school would undoubtedly call and report that she hadn't attended her 7th period class. It was the fifth time in the past two weeks that she had ditched math.

Helga quietly opened the door to her house, trying her hardest not to make a sound, just in case Miriam happened to take notice of the time, or Olga happened to be around. She knew she wouldn't hear the end of her older sister's lecturing.

She stepped inside the house and turned to quietly close the door.

It creaked.

"You better get your butt in here right now, little missy!" came Big Bob's powerful bellow from the living room. Apparently, he wasn't at work.

Great.

The blonde sighed and slowly walked toward the living room. She stood in the doorway and leaned against the wooden frame.

"What is it Bob?" she asked, practically snarling his name. She knew perfectly well what it was and she knew what was to come, it was a regular occurrence. She would come home from a day of school and her father would have to find something, anything, to be angry about.

"You know exactly what it is, little lady! The school called; your math teacher said it he didn't see you in class... again. Why is that?" The Beeper King had his hands on his hips and was glaring menacingly at the young teen.

Now here is where most kids would come up with some excuse and say something like: "But I've been going to class!! He must have just not seen me!" or "I'm always in class! He just marked me absent because he hates me and is always trying to get me into trouble!"

But Helga wasn't like most kids. She found such excuses to be rather puerile and clichéd.

"Why is that? Doi, maybe it's because I didn't go!" Helga scoffed.

"You know Olga…" Bob growled.

"Helga," the blonde corrected, rolling her eyes. “Here we go again.”

"You know Helga, why can't you be more like your sister? She got perfect grades, never skipped classes and you know what? She is always so happy and helpful and she makes us so proud!" Bob exclaimed.

"Whoop-dee-shit," Helga mumbled and continued swearing under her breath as Bob went on ranting and raving. To Helga he was a broken record. She had heard it before, many times in fact.

“Olga this. Olga that. Olga is perfect in every way; every freakin' way.”

She knew the drill. She knew would have to listen to this for about an hour or so then Gilligan's Island would come on, summoning The Beeper King back to his recliner. Or perhaps Olga would bounce through the door and announce cheerfully that she was going to make dinner then waltz of to the kitchen, causing Bob to completely lose track of what he was saying.

But what Helga wasn't expecting was what Bob had to say next:

"But you, look at you!" he paused, "You're worthless, absolutely stinkin' worthless!" Bob growled. Never had he so clearly manifested what he truly felt about his youngest daughter.

Surely this must have been what he truly felt.

"Just… go up to your room, I am sick of looking at you," He growled, clenching his fist and pointing a shaky finger to the stairs.

Helga narrowed her eyes at the man. She gave him a hard scowl, and little did Bob know that those furious eyes and locked jaw was his youngest daughters attempt to hold back the agonizing, pain-filled tears that threatened to leak from the corners of her eyes. She turned on her heal and stormed up the stairs.

"Oh and Olga," Bob hollered as she reached the top of the stairway.

Helga stopped and glared down at her father, locking her jaw even tighter, if that was possible, "Yes Bob?" she said venomously through gritted teeth, her fingernails digging into the wooden banister. She already knew what he was going to say and it meant nothing to her.

"You're grounded."

"Whoop-dee-shit."

Helga slammed the door to her room and fell down upon her bed.

She never understood how he could get her name so confused with that of her older sister. Olga Pataki was the golden child, doing everything to make mummy and daddy proud and never making any mistakes, just like a perfect little wind-up doll.

Then there was Helga, the pit bull in a family of yipping Chihuahuas; the tiger in a family of ordinary domestic housecats. She was different. She made mistakes. She admitted defeat. She was human. She should never be confused with Olga whom, apparently, according to her father, was more than human.

Helga stared, hard-faced at the ceiling for a very long time. She couldn't stop thinking. She couldn't stop thinking about how much she hated him, hated the man that was supposed to be her father.

But more so she couldn't get one particular word out of her head:

Worthless.

So that's what he really thought of her…

Worthless.

Was that what she was?

Absolutely, stinkin' worthless!

Out of anger a quick thought flashed through her mind. It was only for a second, if even that. But for that split-second, Helga wanted to plunge a knife into her father's heart… assuming he had one.

The same short, albeit poignant image flashed through the teen's mind over and over again…

She knew she would never hurt her father, no matter what he said or did to her and no matter how much she thought she hated him she would never, could never kill him. And yet the bitter scene continued to play in her head, tormenting her. The blonde girl's fury filled scowl fell away and all she could do was cry.