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Finding your Feet	By : DancingBear Category: +G through L > Hey, Arnold! Views: 13192 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold, nor any of the characters. I do not, and will not make any money from this story. (Original creator: Craig Bartlett)

Chapter List
- 1-Finding your Feet
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-5
- 5-6
- 6-7
- 7-8
- 8-9
- 9-10
- 10-11
- 11-12
- 12-13
- 13-14
- 14-15
- 15-16
- 16-17
- 17-18
- 18-18
- 9
- 10
- 11
"Arnold! and Pizza!" Gerald grinned, opening the door to let Arnold in. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Arnold blinked. "Shit… was I supposed to come over tomorrow night or something?"
Gerald chuckled. "Nah man… you've got the right day. I was talking about the pizza… and beer?" He cleared a space on the coffee table for the pizza box. "I say, Shortman… are you trying to woo me?" He winked. "Cos if you are… it's working."
"Wait till I pull out the candles and rose petals." Arnold grinned, pulling one of the beers from the box and handing it over. "You'll be putty in my hands."
"Don't forget the Barry White, Sweetheart… you know I'm Sucker for his sultry Baritone."
Arnold laughed, flopped down onto the sofa. "Honestly though…" he smiled, feeling decidedly silly. "I, uh… I wanted to say thanks… for how cool you've been since the accident."
"Ah man! You know it's no bother!" Gerald grinned, falling into the seat next to Arnold and leaning forward to open the pizza box. "Ah, you even got my favourite."
"Extra pineapple." Arnold could have laughed… they were almost like an old married couple or something. "I wanna say I'm sorry, too… for being such a downer…"
Gerald stopped at that. "Seriously man, don't mention it." He paused to stop pizza cheese from falling onto the carpet. "I just want you to come back to the land of the living."
Arnold nodded. It felt shit, knowing that Gerald had been worrying about him for so long. He had been so caught up in his own self-pity that he had totally taken his best friend for granted.
"Wait… does this mean you've hooked back up with the lovely Ms Helga?" A grin spread across Gerald's face.
Arnold blinked. "What? No…" He stammered. "I mean… why would you think that?"
He shrugged. "Wondering what happened to perk you up… lovin'll do wonders for a man." He waggled his eyebrows.
Am I blushing? The bottom of Arnold's stomach fell a little, like how it did every time he thought of Helga. He tried to ignore it… no use dwelling on his mistakes… there wasn't anything he could do to change the past. "Nah, man… I haven't spoken to Helga since, uh, that night." He shrugged. "I might have a date with someone else though…"
"That's a shame… the Helga thing, I mean… not the date thing. Who's the lucky lady?"
"Uh… remember how I told you a nurse took me home after I took, uh, that fall?" Arnold hated talking about that fall… it made him feel pathetic, like an old man.
Gerald nodded, his face full of pizza.
"Yeah, her. Turns out her brother goes to my gym, and I went out to dinner with them last night."
Gerald swallowed… took a swig of his beer. "You're going to date a chick who works with amputees for a living? Isn't that a little… close to home?"
Arnold thought for a second, chewing meditatively at his pizza. "No… I don't think so… at least, I hope not." He took a drink. "I mean, I can talk to her about it, but I don't feel like I'm a patient or anything. She's really nice, and pretty…"
Gerald nodded, but didn't look convinced. "Whatever you say, Arnold."
Arnold sighed… he didn't want to have his actions analysed… he just wanted to do something. He had figured Gerald would be happythat he was getting out there… "How're things with your brunette?"
Gerald let out a long, low whistle. "Sarah-Fine-And-Tall… I'll tell ya man, she. Is. a. fox! Bendy, too." He grinned, took another bite of pizza.
They sat in contemplative silence for a while, some inane sitcom on the TV, but neither of them were paying attention.
"You should give Pataki a call or something sometime." Gerald said almost lazily. "She's a cool chick, man… you should get back in touch."
Arnold swallowed. "Why so keen on Helga?" He didn't really want to have this conversation. Thinking about Helga just made him hate himself. He had screwed the whole thing up so badly, it just depressed him.
Gerald shrugged. "I dunno… you guys seemed really good together. I know you were all messed up n' shit… but you still seemed to dig each other."
Arnold didn't know what to say…
Gerald continued "I mean, I've seen her, since you broke it off with her… and she was so cool about it. She asked how you were, if you were OK… she was sad, man… blue, even. But she wasn't hating on you." He shrugged. "Just seems like she got you, y'know… and you kinda owe her an apology for being so shitty to her… even if we do all understand why, and no one holds it against you… you should say sorry."
Arnold just kinda stared. Since when did Gerald make the speeches about doing the right thing? That had always been his forte.
"What would I say?" Arnold sighed, flinging his crust back into the box and slumping down into the sofa. "Sorry I was a fucking asshole?"
Gerald snickered. "Well, yeah… why not? Ladies appreciate honesty."
Arnold nodded… sure, he could understand that. He might not even have to explain why he had been such a bastard, if he was brutally honest about how much of a tosser he had been. "Should I just call her, or go knock at her door? Or what?"
"Just call her man… no need to make it stalker-like. Just a casual phone call…" He opened another beer and held it out. "Here… drink this, and call her… just do it now… see what happens."
Butterflies started racing in Arnold's stomach. Why do they call it butterflies, when stampeding antelope seems so much more apt? He swallowed, nervous. "I… I dunno…"
Gerald groaned. "You'll feel better if you do. I know you man, you'll be all down on yourself n' shit… just call her, tell her that you're sorry, that it wasn't her fault. It'll take a load off."
Go on… do it. Arnold closed his eyes… trying to make himself determined… the way he did when he was at the gym and it felt like it was getting too hard. He pictured himself where he wanted to be, and just fucking did it. He wanted to feel like himself again, to feel like a good person… "Yeah, OK… you're right." He pulled his phone out of his pocket.
"Now?" Gerald grinned.
"Yup." He searched for her number.
"That's the Arnold I know n' Love." He stood. "I'll give you a moment."
"Cheers." The phone was ringing… his stomach twisted into knots… he could feel his palms sweating. He closed his eyes again, tried to calm himself down.
The call clicked over. "Hi…"
It was her voice… he hadn't heard it in weeks… He almost replied, but it continued. "You've reached Helga's phone. Leave a message after the beep."
His heart dropped… He hated leaving messages, but he waited for the beep anyway.
beep
"Hi Helga, it's, uh, Arnold… I…" He sighed. Pull yourself together! "I know this has been a long time coming, and I wish I had done it earlier… but I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry… really sorry, for how I acted… towards you…" He took a deep breath. This wasn't coming out right, he could feel it. "I… I just want you to know that… that I'm sorry, I mean… I hope I hear from you… uh… Seeya."
He hung up, feeling like a complete asshat. Why wasn't there some function that let you re-record messages? Just in case you fucked them up the first time? Was there some function that let you re-record messages, and he just didn't know about it?
He felt like a complete twat.
"It was a no-go!" He called, bringing Gerald back out from the bedroom. "It went to answerphone."
"Sucks. You leave a message?" Gerald reclaimed his seat and his beer.
"Yeah… but I sounded like a fucking idiot. Uh, uh, uh… uh s-s-s-s-s-orry… durrrrrr." Arnold sighed.
Chuckling, Gerald punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Don't worry about it man, I'm sure she'll appreciate the effort." He stretched his legs out. "Now… you ready for some Aliens?"
"Always, brother… always."
… … … …
For the fourth time that night, Arnold checked that his phone wasn't on silent... that he hadn't missed a call, or a text message.
Nothing. The little screen gave him nothing. He sighed, dropped the phone back on his bedside table and closed his eyes.
He was just so nervous… all kind of jittery and excited… and scared.
He opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling. He supposed she wouldn't reply. He could hardly expect her to. It had almost been a month since he had unceremoniously broken up with her on the side of the road… he had been a total asshole…
He wrapped the hem of his sheet between his hands, worrying the fabric in his fingers as he lay there, fretting. Why had he called her? Did he still want to date her? Or did he just want to let her know that he was sorry?
He hated this… he was feeling almost calm earlier in the evening, when he had first arrived at Gerald's… but then he had been told that Helga was sad, that she asked about him… He felt his stomach cramp.
I miss her.
He groaned, pushed his fists into his eyes. The thought of her drove him crazy. Surely that wasn't healthy? Everything about Helga was complicated. The moment he had set eyes on her, he had wanted her… he could barely talk to her, he was so nervous in her presence. It put him on edge, made him feel like he was losing his mind.
And now he was waiting by the phone, waiting for her to call… like he was a pining dog. No girl had ever made his head fuzz up the way she did, no girl had ever made him so unsure, so tense.
Emma, on the other hand, was so simple, so easy to be around. She was pretty, smart, funny… she interested him, without freaking him out. Everything about her seemed… cleaner? No… that made it seem like Helga was dirty somehow… everything about Emma seemed more clean-cut, less… intense.
He could read her body language, tell what she was thinking, more than he could Helga, anyway. That had to be good… hadn't it? Sure, he couldn't seem to get Helga out of his head… but Emma didn't make him spend all night awake, worrying that he had said the wrong thing.
Hell… he hardly even knew Helga. The more he thought about it, the more he had realised that she never told him anything. He didn't know what she had been working on, or what her life in Florida had been like. She was a closed book. With a twinge of guilt, he admitted that he hadn't asked her much… that he had kept their conversations as light as possible… but she hadn't volunteered much, either…
He didn't know what to think about that…
He didn't know what to think about anything…
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Finding your Feet