A/N: Wow… So I'm so very sorry for leaving this story to die. I honestly was really invested in it, and then college started and I just didn't have any motivation to write. The other day, I found an old flash drive that had all of the documents I had stored on my old desktop before moving out… and here were all of my old fanfiction stories! I was so excited. Anyway, so I've been tweaking and playing with old stories, and I eventually came across this one, one of my favorites. I decided to update, because I really felt bad for leaving this story alone. So here it is. I'm sorry it's so short, I'm just now jogging my memory of where I wanted this story to go. Thanks for staying loyal to me as a writer. You guys are so awesome, really!
Helga stood tense, staring up at Arnold's boarding house like it was going to swallow her whole. She couldn't go in, not after she made a complete ass of herself at Rhonda's party. No sir, not her, she was not going in there.
"And yet," she thought aloud, staring down at her feet, "what will become of us if I don't try to make amends?"
"Helga?" It was Arnold; his giant dome was sticking out of a window a few feet above the door. "What are you – were you talking to yourself?"
"Criminy," she muttered under her breath. "No, I was, um, on the phone, see?"
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and showed it to him, before putting it back up to her ear.
"Yes, I have to go now… bye," she said loudly before shoving the phone back into her pocket. And the lamest excuse of the year award goes to… well, who else.
Arnold rolled his eyes and (with difficulty) withdrew his head from the window. Helga, crimson-faced, turned to leave but the front door flung open and Arnold's grandma stood there. Splotches of paint dotted her face and shirt, and her triumphant smile emitting a beam of light upon the blonde.
"Hilda, dear, come in!" she exclaimed, waving at her.
"You know, I'd love to, but…" Helga explained, searching through the millions of more lame excuses. "I'm feeling kind of sick."
She coughed for emphasis. Grandma shrugged and waved goodbye, looking disappointed. But Helga had no remorse (did she ever?) and left, neglecting to notice the football-shaped shadow in the window watching her leave.
Arnold sighed. As much as he would have loved to finally yell at Helga for all of her wrongdoings, insults and jeers, it just felt wrong. Was it because, for once, he actually felt something towards her? He didn't know. His thoughts were interrupted by a scream.
"I can't believe it!"
Oh god, Arnold thought. If Suzie and Oskar were having another fight like the one last week (which ended in several broken plates and a chip in the wall in the living room), he was going to leave the house.
"She said yes! Olga said yes!"
As the voice continued to scream, Arnold recognized it as Forrest's. He rushed down the stairs, almost tripping several times, to see Forrest surrounded by boarders. His smile was huge.
"What happened?" Arnold asked frantically.
"I… I asked Olga to marry me," Forrest replied, clearly out of breath from excitement. "And she said yes!"
"She… you… marriage?" was the only thing Arnold could utter. Forrest nodded so fervently that Arnold was sure his head would fall right off.
"Yes!" he exclaimed just as Grandpa entered the room, scratching the back of his liver-spotted head.
"What in the heck's going on in here?" he asked, his eyes droopy from his recent nap. As Forrest recollected everything about the proposal, Helga was just a few houses down, knocking feverishly on Phoebe's front door. In times like these, she knew Phoebe would stick by her side.
"You have to come clean, Helga," Phoebe told her as Helga rolled her eyes. "Don't you see? That's what he wants you to do."
Helga internally cursed her friend, expecting Phoebe to tell her that Arnold would of course forgive her, and then he would profess his love to her and they would forget about this little snafu. But Phoebe was a realist, and Helga abhorred that.
"I can't. If I couldn't in elementary school, and I couldn't in middle school, what makes you think I can do it now?" she asked, a crazed expression on her face. Phoebe took a step back.
"But you guys kissed!"
"And I was drunk!"
"So? He wasn't," Phoebe stated matter-of-factly. Helga opened her mouth, ready to refute Phoebe's logic again but she sighed instead, flopping onto a hard, leather couch.
"I don't know what I'm going to do, Pheebs," Helga commented, crossing her arms over her chest. Phoebe sunk into the couch cushion next to her.
"Whatever you end up doing," Phoebe began, "just be true to yourself."
Helga stared at her wise friend, and she smiled a bit, happy that even though she didn't make sense half of the time, Phoebe knew what was best for Helga. And she was thankful for that.
"How did you get to be so smart?" Helga asked her. Phoebe laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was never one to take compliments very well.
"Oh, you know…" she said. "Books, and things."
Back at the boarding house, Arnold wasn't having too much luck seeking advice.
"So let me get this straight," Grandpa said for the millionth time, "this Hilda girl, she's been mean to you all your life, eh?"
The blonde nodded, resting his chin against his clenched fist.
"And now she's acting strange, hm?"
Again, Arnold nodded, his eyes drooping.
"I don't understand the problem."
Arnold sighed, letting his head collapse onto the kitchen table before him. He wanted to talk to Forrest, the all-knowing connoisseur of girls and girl-related subjects. But Forrest was off calling all of his relatives and ex-girlfriends to tell them about the marriage. So Arnold had Grandpa instead, who… well, just didn't get much of anything these days.
"The problem is that… well, I kind of like her," Arnold confessed.
"You like who?"
With that, he scooted his chair away from the table and stood, feeling worse than before.
A/N: Like I said, very short. However, this chapter is basically just a transition chapter, anyway. I hope it's all right though; I'm kind of rusty. Thanks everyone, and let me know what you thought!