Written By Shaun Blankenship

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***

After school the day after the incident in detention, a series of knocking fell upon the door of Phoebe Hyerdahl. She answered to find Helga Pataki on her steps. "Helga, what are you doing here?"

Helga quickly got to her point. Phoebe, we're friends still right? I need some advice; I need your help."

Phoebe adjusted her glasses. "Okay, Helga. Come on in. Do you want something to drink?"

"Have any pop?"

"No."

"Kool-Aid?"

"Yeah, Tropical Punch."

Helga dropped her arm at her side and pulled it back and forth with a clenched fist. "Yes! Red Kool-Aid! Thanks Phoebe." She walked inside as Phoebe closed the door behind them and sat on her living room couch. "So, Feebs, where are your parents?"

Phoebe moved to her kitchen and pulled a large blue pitcher from her fridge. "Oh, they're both at work. You know."

"Unfortunately not. Miriam still doesn't work. I still don't know why Bob keeps her around."

She finished pouring two glasses of Tropical Punch: one for herself and one for Helga. "Well, you remember what he was like without her…"

Helga interrupted, "Yeah, I've been trying to forget."

After putting the pitcher away, Phoebe grabbed the two glasses and handed one to Helga in her living room. She then sat down herself. "One must never forget their past, Helga. You can't know where you're going if you don't know where you've been. Don't spill that glass, it'll stain the couch."

"I won't, Phoebe. I know what I'm doing."

"Anyway, you said you had a problem?"

Helga put down her glass to reveal a small red mustache from her drink left on her lip. "Yes, I have a problem and I really need your advice."

"Well, Helga, shoot."

"Okay, I don't know how to put this." She paused and then took a deep breath. "The other day, I was sent to detention and got in a fight with a good friend of mine-"

Phoebe cut her off. "Helga, can we please use names this time? Can you just say its Arnold?"

Helga glared at Phoebe suspiciously. "How do you know?"

"Please, Helga! That's all you ever talk about! You know I know, why do we play all these games and use all these insinuations and innuendoes?"

Helga placed her glass on the floor by the couch, dropped her arms at her knees and sighed. "You know, these are the reasons why I always go to you for help. Alright, I was in a fight with Arnold and now he hates me. I don't mean hate me as in he doesn't like me-like me, but as in now he despises me and wishes something very heavy would fall on me, killing me Wizard of Oz style."

Phoebe stared sternly. "Come on, Helga, its Arnold. Arnold doesn't hate anyone! He doesn't even hate Wolfgang! Remember how he used to be back in elementary school?"

"Yes, Phoebe, I remember. But remember how Wolfgang got beat up daily when he entered High School and became a wuss?"

Phoebe stared at her water, sugar and red dye mixture in her glass. "You have a very good point."

"Of course. Phoebe, I could go on but I really can't talk about it. Today, during lunch; we both have the same lunch period, 'A' lunch; I was sitting two tables away from him and could hear him talking. He told Gerald about the detention and how he was sick of arguing about unimportant crap with me. After a while, I was going to go over to him and apologize and stood up to do it. I walked over to his table and automatically he placed a hand in front of the spot that I was about to sit on. You know, like somehow it was going to block me from sitting there. Then he said…"

***

"Helga, what do you think you're doing?"

Helga looked down at her lunch tray. "Um, Arnold… I just… wanted to…"

"What, yell at me more? Complain? Whine? Let me guess; you're going to give me some unhonest apology and then next week get me in trouble again? I'm sick of this, Helga."

She raised her hand as if asking to permission to speak but did it anyway. "But Arnold…"

"No, Helga." He removed his hand after knowing he had his point across. "Go back to whatever hole you crawled out from and leave me alone. I don't need it."

***

"He then just sat there and talked to Gerald as if I wasn't even there anymore."

Phoebe finished her glass and expressed her shock to Helga through facial expression. "I can't believe Arnold would say that, Helga. That doesn't sound like him. I think Harold would've said that before Arnold would have."

Helga picked her glass back up off the floor. "Are you calling me a liar, Phoebe?"

Phoebe took her glass back into the kitchen, rinsed it, and filled it with water. Something pure was in order for a time like this. "I'm not saying that, Helga. I'm saying…"

"Well, if it doesn't sound like Arnold, than what? Are you saying I 'misheard', or 'misinterpreted', or something else that begins with 'mis'?"

"I'm sorry, Helga." Phoebe sat back down in her living room. "You came here for help and I'm not being very helpful. So Arnold said all this stuff to you?"

"Uh, yeah! I did just say that!"

"Okay, Helga. He won't listen to you at all?"

"It's as if I'm invisible, Phoebe."

"Wow, Helga." She took a drink of her water and wiped her lips. "I still can't believe Arnold would say-"

Helga stopped her. "Neither could I, Feebs. What can I do to fix things between us? Do you have any ideas?"

"I do, but I don't think you're going to like them."

Helga finished off her glass of Kool-Aid, oblivious to the red mustache from the Tropical Punch. "Phoebe, I need your help. Whatever's on your mind tell me, right now!"

"Okay, Helga. I have a few ideas you can try out, but you have to listen and not doubt me no matter what."

"Alright, Phoebe. Lay it on me."

***

Arnold came home from the baseball field. Arnold and the gang (With the exception of Helga today) still played almost every day. A few years ago, him and his friends all signed up to join the school's baseball league, but it was quickly terminated when the school couldn't provide sufficient funds for it. Since then, there hasn't been another baseball league; but hey, now they have La Crosse, cross-country, and an Equestrian team. That balances it all out, doesn't it?

As soon as he came in, he walked in his grandfather's room. It had become daily routine. Anytime he left the house; he always had the feeling that Grandpa had died choking on a raspberry or something when he left. To his surprise, he wasn't dead, but if he had his TV any louder, he would've been deaf. The television blared out an infomercial: I'm Millie Bays here for 'Great Grape': The only cleaning product that contains the harnessed power of grapefruit! Watch as 'Great Grape' takes this grease pencil off of this fridge door!

Grandpa stared up at Arnold from his chair in front of the TV. "You know, grease pencil could come off of that fridge with a wet cloth."

Arnold smiled back at him. "Yeah, I know Grandpa."

"I still think we need some of that stuff."

The TV still was still extremely loud. If you buy 'Great Grape' right now, we'll throw in this free pair of socks that are stained with chicken gravy. If you want to test the cleaning ability of 'Great Grape', throw this sock in the wash with a little bit of 'Great Grape' on it and watch the stain come out!

"You know, chicken gravy comes out pretty easily too. Not as easy, short man, but still."

Arnold patted his grandfather on the shoulder. "I know, Grandpa."

Phil slowly stood up and stretched out with his bones cracking and creaking at every flex. "So, Arnold, how was your school day?"

Arnold leaned his grandfather on his shoulders and helped him walk to the kitchen. "It was pretty good, grandpa. It was alright."

"Uh oh." Arnold seated his grandpa down at the kitchen table. "Short man; whenever you say something's alright and pretty good at the same time, it usually means the exact opposite… or maybe I'm just feeble in my old age…"

"Seriously, grandpa, it was alright. I mean it was good. Nothing bad happened."

"Well, maybe it's the age. I'm only as old as I think I'm not." Grandpa started to walk over to get to the kitchen but stopped in a moan of pain. "Oh, short man! Can you please get me my cane?"

Arnold disappeared for a moment behind an open closet door but quickly came back with the walking cane his grandfather requested. "Here you go. You should get to bed, grandpa."

"Oh, I will." He started hobbling his way back to his bed. "Hey, Arnold, before I forget, can you do some laundry? Our sheets are starting to smell again."

"Okay, grandpa. I will in a minute. You go to bed, make sure grandma's still alive." Arnold smiled jokingly at the old man.

"I'm sure in a very light-hearted way that was funny, but now's not the time."

Arnold hung his head down. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's okay, Arnold." He went completely inside his room. "Good-night, short man!"

"Good-night, grandpa." The door completely closed itself shut and Arnold was now by himself. He then said to his self, "Well, I should probably do that laundry."

Arnold turned sharply towards the door. What was that? Arnold walked slowly towards the door, talking as he approached to it as if it were a person. "Hello? Who's there?"

While he advanced slowly, Ernie Potts rushed down the stairs. "Hey, what was that? I'm sittin ' in my room and all of a sudden, this pounding's knocking pictures off of my wall! What's going on, Arnold?"

He ignored what the stubby man was saying and opened the door slowly. When he couldn't see between the crack of the door and it's closing, he swung the rest of it open. Nobody stood on the boarding house stoop. There weren't any messages posted to the door, no packages beside his feet; it was almost as if the thudding was only his imagination. Arnold turned his head over to Ernie. "I really don't know what that was, Mr. Potts, but it's gone."

"Okay, but next time that happens, I'm coming down here with the Equalizer." Ernie waddled his way back into his room.

Arnold stood at his doorway still baffled at the occurrence. It was one of those situations where you won't ever know what just happened here, and the fact that you don't know makes you want to search more. The football-headed teen shut his front door and went back to his task. Laundry needed cleaning; the door needed to be left alone.

***

The blonde-haired girl's heart was still racing in overdrive as she panted in the ally beside Arnold's house. She peeked around the corner to see if her childhood affection still stood there waiting for an explanation. Once he closed the door, she was finally allowed to relax, sit down on the cold concrete, and get a chance to breathe at a normal pace. What was I thinking? I was just about to apologize to him and I… ran! Why did I run? WHY DID I RUN?

She stood up once she finally caught up with her breathing, and placed her hands on the knees of her blue jeans. She reached in the pocket of her pants and pulled out the locket that she had kept since elementary school. It was tarnished and dented in some parts, but the picture was updated and the glass had been replaced. In sixth grade, she had tripped on her way walking from school and the glass had broken inside of her dress. She obtained some minor cuts but nothing serious and no scars. Nobody had seen it happen either so the secret of the locket stayed secret. Since then, she had it replaced but did nothing after that. The locket remained in her room for years once that happened, which now made the glass shine scratch-free like it was fresh from the factory. The tarnish, however, could easily be dealt with. Helga just never found the time for it in her "busy schedule".

She gripped the locket with both hands and glared at it crossly. "Why, Arnold! WHY DO I ACT THIS WAY!"

She tightly held the locket angrily with her four fingers on each hand at the back and her thumbs pressing against the glass. She squeezed it tighter with her thumbs, as if trying to release her aggression on Arnold through some form of voodoo.

She stopped squeezing the picture and slowly stuffed it in her pocket. She sat back down and gently wept into her palms. Her warm tears slid down to her elbows and dripped onto the gray concrete. Confusion and anger swirled through her mind in a foggy cloud.

She pulled her hands away and looked around. A familiar noise had disturbed her crying; a noise that seemed all too normal to be odd. She opened the lid to a Dumpster near the end of the alley and found her answer.

"Brainy, come on! Didn't you grow out of this stuff a long time ago?"

Brainy crawled out of the green garbage hold and stepped out to be level with Helga. His breathing was heavy and nasally like Darth Vader.

"Oh, come on, don't play this mute act with me like you do all the time. I've heard you talk; excessively, I might add; but whenever I meet you, you only get three or maybe four words out. What's going on, why do you keep following me?"

Brainy, an average-sized teen, now stood different from his elementary years. He stood up straight compared to his fourth grade slouch, his face looked rugged as if he needed to shave but not just yet, and his vision had been fixed with laser surgery which eliminated his need for glasses. He wore a red tee shirt with no printing or logos and black slacks. His hands were tucked in his pockets and his eyes were looking at the ground. He opened his mouth to speak. "Uh… uh…"

Helga cut him off, "Uh, uh, hello? 'Uh' is not an explanation! Talk, Brainy!"

"Uh… um… I don't know."

Helga sighed and put an elbow on his shoulder, leaning on him with a small tilt. "Brainy, look; 'I don't know' may have worked eight years ago, but come on! There has to be a reason that you do know or why else would you be here?"

"Uh… um… hiding."

"Hiding from what?"

"Um… someone."

"Who?"

"Um… I can't tell you."

Helga lifted her elbow off and rolled her eyes. "Fine, forget it. This incident never happened, I was never here, and you never saw me. You got it. Now, I'm going to walk away from here and you can go back in your Dumpster and hide if you want. Good-bye." She walked away from the alley and back home. She muttered under her breath, "Time for plan two."

Brainy walked out into the light away from the alley to watch Helga walk away. His heavy breathing still heaving it's way out of his chest.

That was when he heard a female voice yelling from down the other side of the street. "BRAINY! I LOVE YOU!"

Brainy turned sharply to see someone running towards him off in the distance. "Oh, no! It's her!" He quickly hoofed it down the same way as Helga.