Written By Shaun Blankenship

________

________

Phoebe stepped outside of her home, bundled up for the cold weather with a plastic grocery bag bulging at the sides in her hand. The wind nipped at the back of her neck, despite her use of a scarf. She placed her mittened hands inside of her coat pockets and walked against the wind down the street.

She finally arrived at the house she had been searching for: the Johansson residence. It was Gerald's house. The first stop on her route. The bag with her contained two presents: one for Gerald and another for Helga. How could she go through a holiday like this and leave them completely out of the picture?

She knocked on the door and was quickly answered by Gerald's father. He adjusted his glasses and looked on the narrow-eyed girl. "Um, you're not here about my electricity, are you?"

"No," Phoebe laughed. "I'm Phoebe Hyerdahl, a friend of Gerald's. I brought him a present."

His father lifted an eyebrow in question. "Okay." He moved his head off to the side of the door to where it couldn't be seen. "Hey, Gerald! Some Asian girl's here for ya!"

The sound of Gerald quickly rushing down the stairs was instantaneous to his father's call. His dad left and Gerald took his place. "Hi, Phoebe."

She waved at him. "Hi, Gerald. I came by to give you something." She reached in her bag and produced a flat box wrapped in blue paper. It was about the size of maybe a small puzzle, just a half size bigger in all aspects: length, width, and height. It went from her hands to his. "It's really not much at all, but I didn't want to forget you."

Gerald took the package and looked at her happily. "Thanks, Phoebe but I didn't get you anything, I can't accept this. Here, take it back."

Phoebe pushed the box away from her as Gerald tried to hand it back. "No, I don't mind. You keep it. I don't really have any use for it, and I don't think I can take it back. It's no problem." She gave a warming smile as she pushed the present even more towards him. "Take it, keep it."

Gerald shrugged. "Well, I have to give you something. You want thirty bucks?"

What? "Um, why?"

"Well, I don't think any store is really open on Christmas day, and if they are they won't have what I want to buy you. At least you won't go away empty-handed."

"No, I can't take that." She diverted her eyes towards her feet. "If you really want to get me a present, do it after Christmas. Just open your gift."

Gerald glared over the package. "You sure? You don't want anything before I open this?"

She nodded. "Mmm-hmm."

"Okay, if you insist." Gerald ripped through the wrapping and down to the box. It was completely white and the top was as flimsy as a baseball card. He opened the box and threw out the tissue paper to the ground, revealing a black jacket. It wasn't leather but it wasn't pleather, the poor man's leather, either. It was a weird type of fabric. Above the chest on the left, "Gerald" had been stitched in a graffiti-esque fashion. "Aw, man! That is… thanks, Phoebe."

"Your welcome. I had it done at that place down on Westing street."

"Man, now I got to get you something good. You want fifty bucks?"

Phoebe raised her hands. "Gerald, you don't have to get me anything in return. In fact, I wasn't really expecting anything. If you really feel like getting me something, do it later. You don't have to."

Gerald placed the box with the jacket off inside to where Phoebe couldn't see it. "Oh, man. I gotta do something. You wanna go out for dinner tonight?"

Phoebe's eyes grew wide. "Is there an open restaurant anywhere?"

"Should be. I see it happen in movies all the time. It worked in The Family Man. You ever see that one?"

"Yeah, I did." She looked around the neighborhood surrounding her as if searching for inspiration to her yes/no answer. "Um, yeah, I'd like that. Do you want me to just come down here at some time or will you pick me up…"

"I'll pick you up. I'll be there around seven or so. I'll call before I'm heading out."

She smiled. "Okay, I'll see you later." She skipped happily off of Gerald's steps as he closed the door. She ran down the street to make her next delivery.

***

Big Bob answered the door. "Oh, it's you. Helga moved out. She's at some kid's house; Ronald or something."

Phoebe snapped her fingers. "Oh, I forgot about that. She's at Robert's house."

Bob grunted and cleared his throat. "Yeah, that'd be it. Anyway, do you know where this kid lives?"

"Um, yeah. I don't know the exact address but I could show you."

"Well, I have some things I need to do right now. Could you draw me a map or something?"

Phoebe looked down and then back up at Bob. "Do you have any paper?"

***

Robert answered his door. "Hey, Phoebe. Looking for Helga?"

She held up the bag. "Yeah, I have a present for her."

"Well, she's not here right now. I think she went to Arnold's."

"Why?"

He squinted his eyes. "You know, right?"

"You mean that she's had an undying obsession with Arnold ever since she was able to say his name? Yeah, I've known that. She told me back in elementary."

"I think she's gonna finally go tell him."

Phoebe was more shocked than excited. "Really? What possessed her to do that?"

"Well…" Robert paused. "I kind of pressured her into it. I yelled at her about it and… I think that's where she went anyway. I might be wrong."

"Oh." She stared at the package in the bag. "Well, I kind of wanted to deliver this in person to her. Can you take it?"

Phoebe extended the hand holding the bag and placed it in Robert's hand. "Um, sure. I can do that."

"Wow, you must've done some serious convincing to get her to go tell Arnold."

"Yeah." Robert let out a deep sigh. "Now I think she's mad at me."

"Don't worry." Phoebe put her hands in her coat pockets. "It's hard for Helga to stay mad at somebody."

Robert concurred, "Big Bob."

"That's different. That's family."

Robert sighed. "Well, if you see her before I do, tell her I'm sorry."

"Okay." Phoebe smiled. "Make sure you give her that." The bag was still in Robert's hand and a medium-sized box stuck out of it. "See ya later, Robbie."

"See ya, Phoebe."

***

The blonde haired girl stood on the steps of the boarding house shaking inside of her shoes. Yes, she was nervous, but it was also below freezing outside. Staring at the door of the house, she started to remember the old days: hanging out on the stoop with all of her friends doing practically nothing. Yes, they were fond memories, but not really much had changed in that aspect. The door also seemed so much bigger when she was younger. The moment of truth has come and it won't take a money order; it wants the cash out of your wallet on the spot.

Helga mustered up the courage to finally knock on the door. She knew he's there. The brand-new car was outside on the street. Wouldn't he want to put that in the garage or something? I know they have one in the back of the building, it's where he keeps his bike. She anticipated his warm greeting at the door, yet she feared it like the boogey man. It's about friggin' time though, right?

Then it happened. Helga shut her eyes as the door opened, and a familiar voice spoke to her. "Um, you here for the short man?"

Helga opened her eyes. "Hey, I haven't seen you for a while."

Phil stood there trying to keep his balance with the doorknob. "Yeah, he's up in that room of his. You want me to call him down or do you want to go up there?"

"Well, what's he doing? I mean, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Arnold's Grandpa shook his head. "No, of course not! He's probably playing some sort of video game or something on his computer."

"Then I guess I could go up there."

"Okay, follow me." Phil slowly limped his way to the bottom of the stairs in a way that reminded Helga of Igor from Young Frankenstein. All he needed was a hunchback. Grandpa called down from the bottom. "Hey, Arnold! That girl with the one eyebrow is here to see you!" He turned to her. "What's your name again?"

"Helga."

"Heddy is here." He turned back to Helga. "What's your last name?"

"Pataki. My first name is HEL-GA."

"Oh, I'm sorry." He looked up the stairs. "Helen McCracky is here."

The steps to Arnold's room lowered to show the occupant walking down. "I heard you the first time, Grandpa."

"Well, just wanted to be sure." Phil then started to walk away. "If you need me, I'll be in the den watching infomercials and fifties cop dramas." He turned around the corner and disappeared. Then the voice of the television stood out. It has the cleaning power of grapefruit! Watch as it takes this grease pencil off of this fridge!

Arnold and Helga were alone with each other. The foot ball-headed boy clapped and rubbed his hands together. "So, what do you want?"

"Um, I was just… what are you doing?"

"Nothing important. You wanna come up to my room?"

"Yeah, sure." It wasn't as if she was nervous. She wasn't shaking in fear, but rather trembling inside. All the writing on the wall said she wasn't supposed to be there. It was like intruding in on a secret society that can tell you're not a member. She was a fraud for no crime and it was starting to make her sick. Arnold led Helga up into his room.

***

She answered the door to find the moonstruck, black-haired boy bending at one knee. "Gloria, my sweet!" Curly pulled a ring out of his pocket. "Do take my noble gesture and forever be bound with me in bliss!"

Gloria stared at him. "Curly, you need to go home. I told you before: no."

"Please, give me another chance! Two words from my cherub's lips are all I need to fulfill my life and enclose the gaping in the middle of my soul! Say I do!"

She took the ring from out of his hand and threw it across the street. "Curly, you need to stop this. People are starting to talk. I like you as a friend but… I'm too young to get married and… you scare me!"

Curly's mouth gaped open. "Does my only shine of light from out of my dark existence deny me of a love purer than fresh snow?"

She bent down and placed her hands at his shoulders. "Stop that! Was the restraining order not enough to keep you away from me?"

Curly started to imitate a sobbing noise. "If I shall remain clandestine in this relationship, you shall find my corpse at the bottom of the City Park's river bridge. I bid you ado, my fair lady."

Gloria slammed the door and stood in front of Curly outside of her home. "Curly, it just wouldn't work out. You need some help."

"Then help me, my lovely maiden! Help me feel…"

She slapped him in the face. "That's my last warning; stop that. Curly, get some rest. If you don't leave here in a positive, non-suicidal attitude, I'm calling the cops. Do you understand?"

He shook his head and snapped to reality. "Yeah, yeah. Alright, you won this round." He started to walk away and down the street away from Gloria. "But I shall return, and I will not cease until I have gained your hand…" His words were interrupted by a rock that struck his shoulder. "Ah-ha! A token of my love's affection!" He bent down and picked it up. "I shall forever keep this treasure and let it remind me of the bruise you have not only placed on my arm… but on my heart as well."

Gloria crossed her arms. "Go home!"

***

"So how's life treatin' ya?"

Arnold closed the door to his room. "Pretty good." He sat on his couch and Helga grabbed his computer chair. "And you."

"I've been better." Don't stop now, Helga. You want this. You want this. "I like what you've done to your room."

"I did that a while ago. You've been here since I redecorated."

"I know, but I never said anything about it." She looked at her feet. "There's a lot of things I've never told you."

"Yeah, but the days of useless compliments are dead." Arnold started to get up. "You want a Yahoo or something?"

"SIT!" She pointed a finger to the couch. "Just sit for right now."

Arnold froze and slowly sat himself back down. "Is something wrong, Helga? I was just gonna get a soda."

She buried her face in her hands. "Arnold, this is very hard for me to say but I need to."

His eyes bulged. "What's wrong? Did somebody steal my car?"

"No!" She gripped her hands at the bottom of the computer chair. "It has nothing to do with your car."

"Well, what happened? Did Gerald get run over or something? Has Lila O.D.'d? What's happened?"

"Something I should've told you a long time ago."

"What? Did you take the tip off of the table from when we went to High Stakes?"

"No!" She rolled her eyes back in her head. "Actually, I did, but that's not what's important right now."

Arnold clasped his hands together. "Then tell me."

She took a deep breath only to sigh it out. "Arnold, I…"

"Yes?"

She bit down on her bottom lip to the point that an imprint would be left when she let go. "Arnold, I… love you."

Arnold blinked in confusion. "Okay… Helga… I guess I love you too but what's the big deal?"

She pounded a fist on his computer desk. "That's not what I mean, Arnold. I… I'm obsessed about you."

The same blank glare shone from Arnold's face as he searcher for a response. "You're… obsessed?"

"Since the day we first met…" She stopped and took a deep breath and continued talking in a relaxed calmness. "…I've kept a locket with your picture of you in it. I've made shrines of your likeness out everything from gum to watermelon. I've written many volumes of poetry devoted to you. Sometimes I follow you home just to watch you walk in the front door." She cringed and braced herself mentally for whatever Arnold had to say.

Arnold scratched his head. "Wow… that's… why are you telling me this?"

"Because I've kept it a secret for too long." A single, meaningless tear rolled down her cheek. "I need to know how you feel… honestly."

"Helga," Arnold paused and thought of what he was going to say. "I don't know what to say."

Helga stared at his floor. "Yeah, I figured that." She stood up and pulled her locket from out of her pocket. "Here. Merry Christmas." She threw it on his bed and morosely traveled down the steps from his room. She spoke as she left, "I'll be down at Robert's if you need me."

Arnold was about to yell at Helga to stop, but couldn't think of any meaning to it. He walked over to his bed and picked up the locket. It had been a newer one since the time Grandpa had found it, and Arnold had just put together all the pieces of his life that didn't make sense: the book of poetry he found, the locket, the constant abuse, the jump-roping outside of the house…

He then realized a harder question to answer: Where is she getting my school photos? I never gave her any.

***

Helga closed the door to the boarding house, stepped off in to the alley under Arnold's window, and began to sob. Jerry Lewis had once quoted his father: "Always expect the worse and you'll never be disappointed." That doesn't mean anything. Just because you know the worst is yet to come doesn't mean you'll be happy with being right. The truth still hurts, whether if you knew or not what was to come.

She found her self crouched on the snowy pavement, crying for a love she knew wouldn't work. It was then that snow started to fall; just one more candy-coated sprinkle to put on Helga's sugar-filled life.