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Not exactly the ugly duckling	By : DancingBear Category: +G through L > Hey, Arnold! Views: 5459 -:- 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-Not exactly the ugly duckling
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 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
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-Epilouge
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Arnold wondered if she even remembered him, she stared at him for so long. Maybe he made a mistake, maybe this girl wasn't Helga. She looked like Helga, with her blonde hair and massive eyes. Long moments passed before she sat bolt upright and said his name.

"Arnold?"

He grinned, he wasn't going mad after all. "Helga!" He took a step forward, leaning down to extend his hand to her. Normally, he would give an old friend a hug, as opposed to a stiff handshake, but Helga had always been prickly. Long years of conditioning told him to keep his distance, lest he bring on one of her snarky rants. Get your hands off me, Football Head! What do you think I am? Some kind of freaking Hippy or something? You might have grown up in some touchy-feely commune, but it doesn't mean the rest of us want to be pawed at whenever you feel a hug coming on!

Smiling despite himself, he shook her hand, and gestured down towards the shops. "Are you busy? I'm on a feta mission, you free to take a walk with me?"

Helga was silent as she picked up her bag and stood to face him, but her initial shock had worn off by the time they had taken a half dozen steps. "So, Arnold, what are you doing nowadays? Last I heard you were off studying bridges or something down South."

His smile was still plastered on his face, he liked this, seeing old friends. Helga was probably the most interesting of them all, too, the one he had though about most over the last four years. "Yeah, I'm studying Civil Engineering. Almost done. I took a semester off in second year to travel a bit, so I'm not quite finished." He paused for a second, but Helga didn't volunteer any information, she walked in silence, her large eyes flicking to his face every few seconds. "What are you doing with yourself now?" He asked.

"Uh, just working as a PA for a corporate fat-cat." She bit her bottom lip, a nervous tic that Arnold noticed, but didn't mention. They walked on in silence for half a block. Arnold fretted at first, unused to Helga being quiet, but after a little while, he realized that she had just changed, that she wasn't as loud mouthed as she used to be. That couldn't be a bad thing.

He noted how tall she was as she moved beside him. After being one of the shortest for years, he had shot up in the last few years of school, and was now a decent 6'1". She could only be an inch or two shorter, he figured, but then she had always been tall. She definitely looked a lot more grown up. The blue-grey shirt and dark pants she was wearing was a long cry from the Jeans and T shirts of her teenage years, and a lifetime from that weird pink dress she wore all the time when she was a kid.

His mind started to wander, he had always worn that blue cap, and Sid had practically lived in those awful white cowboy boots. He wondered if Sid would follow through on his declaration, and find a pair of similar boots to wear to the party next week.

"Oh, Helga!" he started. Helga jerked her head around at his sudden exclamation, her eyebrows raised. "I can't believe I forgot! There's going to be a big reunion party thing at my place next Friday night, can you make it?"

Helga shrugged. "I'm not sure. I have to go away for work sometimes…" Her excuse sounded lame, her insincerity rang in Arnold's ears.

"Oh." Arnold's face fell. "Everyone's going to be there! You should definitely come if you can! Phoebe gave me your address, we were going to send you an invite. You're the only one from the old group that doesn't have a facebook page." His statement was pointed, and he raised an eyebrow at her in mock derision.

Helga groaned. "Don't you start. I hate those things." She grimaced. "I don't really want a website to tell me what colour I am, or what my inner animal is. And no one actually cares anyway."

Arnold smiled, that sounded more like the old Helga. "It's actually kinda cool. It's pretty funny when you see how people have changed, and, of course, it means that you can actually be contacted and invited to things…"

Helga scoffed in a good-natured way. "Alright then, you've invited me to the party, so tell me how much everyone has changed."

Arnold shook his head. "Oh no, it's not that easy. I'm not going to ruin the surprise by telling you everyone else's news!"

Helga groaned, a grin across her face. "Okay, deal. If you can tell me one thing about one of the gang that shocks me, I'll make sure I can come to the party."

Arnold laughed his quiet laugh. "Easy. Uh, how about… Harold's getting married. Next month." He laughed again as Helga stumbled. His hand reached out to steady her, but she righted herself before his fingers touched her. "You're surprised, no?"

She sputtered as she shook her head in disbelief. "Who to?" she managed as last.

Arnold's eyes twinkled, she would definitely come to the party now. "Guess." He demanded. He shook his head as Helga protested. "Come on now, think back. If you can remember, it's an easy guess."

He watched her as she thought, her teeth biting at her bottom lip, her eyes looking past him. "Not… Patty?" she asked in a breath of laughter. Her giggle died as Arnold just raised his eyebrows. "Patty?" she exclaimed, her face incredulous. "Big Patty?"

"Don't let him hear you call her that. He probably wouldn't thump a girl, but he would definitely give you an earful." Arnold's smile spread further across his face. "But there's worse. I don't suppose you've caught up with Stinky at all?"

Helga snorted, conjuring up a picture of the awkward, lanky kid from her youth, ears and nose too big for his thin face. "Wasn't he going to be a gardener or something?" She asked. She stepped sideways quickly to avoid a child on his tricycle, and bumped right up against Arnold's side. He watched as a bolt of electricity seemed to jolt through her. She turned her big eyes up to him, her mouth slightly open.

"He's definitely not a gardener any more." He smiled, registering a sad kind of shock as Helga almost leaped away from him, like her upper arm was burned by their bare skin touching.

"So… Don't hold out on me now, Arnold, what is the great and illustrious Stinky doing?" A sneer appeared on her face, a crease between her eyebrows, as she raised her hand to touch her skin where their arms had met. Could she really react so strongly to human contact?

"No way. You can see him for yourself." They relaxed into each others company again as Helga grumbled at him for 'holding out on her'. A moment later they were standing in front of the grocers. The old owner, tall and thin with a hatchet face, had sold the store a few years ago, and the new proprietors didn't recognize them as they stood in the doorway, suddenly awkward.

"Well, I'll see you next Friday then, I suppose." Helga blushed and fumbled with the strap of her bag as she hefted it higher on her shoulder and moved to turn away.

"What are you doing tonight?" Arnold hurried, before she could take a step. He found himself feeling rather anxious as she paused, half turned away from him. He didn't know how close her anger was to the surface, he didn't want to risk one of her old tirades.

Eventually she sighed. "I really don't know. I was going to see if there is anything good playing at the old theatre, but I don't even know if it's still open." Her long fingers toyed with the buckle on the black patent strap, her eyes not quite meeting his.

"Come have dinner with us!" Arnold's smile was evident in his voice. "The theatre is open, and I'm sure they're showing something awesome. But we're having roast chicken."

So over an hour later, they were sitting elbow to elbow at the dinner table, the last of the boarders pushing back their chairs to leave. They sat in silence for a minute. Arnold watched the oily film of wine slosh across the glass he swirled slightly in his hands, and Helga absent mindedly traced the pattern in the tablecloth with her finger.

"Arnold!" they jumped slightly as his Grandma burst back into the room, her fine grey hair pulled haphazardly away from her face. "Take your lady friend into the front room! I'll bring you some tea and biscuits!" Her voice was almost scolding.

Arnold chortled, a low, gravely sound. "Yes grandma." He said politely, and turned in his seat to face Helga. "Well, how about it, Lady Friend?" Not waiting for an answer, he stood, and hesitated slightly before deciding against offering Helga his arm. "C'mon." He gestured to the door, and led her down the hallway to the rarely used 'front room'.

Sprawling himself on a large, soft sofa, he watched Helga as she perched on the edge of an armchair, looking decidedly out of place against the floral fabric. "Sorry about Grandma." Arnold smiled. "She wants to see me settle down with a nice girl."

Helga laughed briefly. "Yeah? And how's that working out for you?" Arnold mentally added the Football Head to the end of her sentence. Her cynical tone was as much as part of his childhood as baseball, and somehow her sentences seemed incomplete without some kind of insult.

He just shrugged as he finished the last of his wine and leaned to place the glass on the coffee table at his knees. "No one special." He said simply. He had dated a bit, had even exclusively seen one girl for over six months, but he didn't really feel any kind of pull to any of the girls he had been with. "What about you?"

She laughed again, that short derisive 'ha'. "You gotta be kidding me. All the guys my age are either taken or sleaze-balls. No thank you."

Arnold was completely lost for words for a second. Stupidly, the first thought that came into his head was 'and what am I, chopped liver?' where did that come from? He couldn't defend his demographic without belittling her circumstances, and he couldn't say anything vaguely encouraging without sounding condescending. Tongue tied, he silently thanked the gods when his Grandpa came in with the tea-tray balanced lightly between his two gnarled hands.

He watched her as they talked. She really had grown up, she was tall and slender, her dark blonde hair pulled back into a heavy ponytail. Her eyes had kept their heavy lids, and her top lip was still much fuller than her bottom one, giving her a Michelle Pheifer-like pout. He had never noticed before how good looking she was.

Had she always looked like this, and her permanent scowl had disguised it, or had she just grown up pretty? She didn't move like someone who knew they were attractive, she held herself stiffly, and stomped a little as she walked. Just like she had when she was a kid, she strode. The more he looked at her, the stranger she seemed. She was caught in the contrast between her prim demeanour and her overtly sexy mouth, her naturally bedroom-y eyes.

It was late by the time Helga had declared that she needed to get going. She grumbled when Arnold insisted on walking her home, but they fell into step with each other on the pavement. Enjoying their quiet, easy banter, he was almost disappointed when she came to a halt outside of a large apartment building. The foyer was lit, a man in uniform was sitting behind a desk, his eyes glued to a paperback.

"Well, this is it." Helga said breathlessly. "We're level three."

He looked at her for a second, her big eyes cast down demurely at the pavement. She was side-lit by the street lamp across the road, the shadows of her face accentuated the fullness of her top lip, darkened her eyes. He found himself suddenly stepping closer to her, his hand reaching out to touch her wrist.

He looked into her eyes as they flicked up to his face. Her expression mirrored the shock that he felt at himself. He didn't act like this, without thinking it through first. But his move to touch her had been almost involuntary.

"Good night, Helga." His voice was a little strangled, detached, as he tried to make sense of his own actions.

"Uh, night." She mumbled back, and turned to tread into her building.

On the twenty minute walk back to his house, Arnold tried to get his head feeling less fuzzy. Maybe he shouldn't have had that last glass of wine. He pictured Helga as she was when he had first seen her, looking tiny and dejected on the bench seat. He remembered her as a kid, with those stupid pig-tails and that odd pink dress.

He wondered again why he had moved to touch her, when he was normally so cautious when it came to girls. He would have to be extra careful when it came to Helga. He paused for a second, picking up that hiccup in his inner monologue. 'When it came to Helga' what? What did he want…

A little thrill buzzed in his stomach, despite himself. "God, I can be a real moron sometimes." He hummed to himself as he rounded a corner. No wonder he had been staring at her full lips all night… he wanted to kiss her.
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Not exactly the ugly duckling