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The Creeps	By : SleepSomehow Category: +G through L > Hey, Arnold! Views: 6641 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. Just another dorky fan.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
3: A Picture Says a Thousand Words
"And that's the gist of it, Pheebs. The dweeb had some pervy photos of me, Arnold knocked his lights out, they found a knife and a bunch of my stuff in his bag, and so the cops came and took the leech away. Pow! No more Brainy for good!"
Helga shrugs as she walks down the main hall at the school headed toward the exit doors.
"They kept me in the office all day talking to police and detectives. A waste of time if you ask me! I had no idea this was even going on! Never got to see the photos or anything, which is totally, completely fine. I mean, I'm curious where and how he took them but... I'd just rather not look at the things, y'know? I hope they toss 'em in the incinerator! Burn 'em quick."
"Wow. I can't believe Brainy did all that, Helga! That's so... gross of him!" Phoebe hugs her books to her chest as she walks beside her friend, "I always knew he was kind of strange. And he had your underwear in a bag? Like a Ziploc bag? How did he even... Ugg, just creepy!! I'm sorry, I'm sure you're upset-"
Helga merely laughs, waving a hand in the air as if to dismiss the whole ordeal, "Oh it's nothing. I feel I spcked the kid enough times over the years to make up for all the disturbing things he did without my knowledge."
In reality, it would take Helga a while to wash the grimy feeling from her skin. To erase the lingering shiver of being watched without her knowledge. Constantly looking over her shoulder while walking alone. Wondering how often he got in her gym locker or, worse, her bedroom, to steal all those things. It would take a long while to feel normal again.
But why should it bother me? I'm just as bad. I'm a creep, too.
Helga blinks, suddenly feeling ill with regret all over again.
How I follow Arnold without him being the wiser. The poems, the photos, this lingering obsession. The SHRINE! I'm just as bad as Brainy! The only difference is I'm not armed! Oh and no camera. But if I had a camera...I mean, my love has a bedroom with a glass ceiling. A friggin GLASS CEILING!! That leaves little to the imagination...
She smiles, wistful.
Man, I wish I DID have a camera! Imagine the evenings spent up there in the moonlight documenting every inch of Arnold's bare flesh! Maybe if I ask Bob nicely enough I can get a camera for my birthday or-
Her smile fades quick.
Wow. If I had a camera... I'd be worse than Brainy! I AM a creep!!
The realization hits Helga hard. It's true, her crush has gone from innocent to borderline dangerous at times. Breaking into his home on numerous occasions. Theft, lies, so many secrets. Now that they've both grown up it has become a lot more sexually motivated, as well. The girlish poems are now erotic fantasies. The lingering stares, more searching, inquisitive, desperate.
There's only so much lovey dovey crap you can write in a journal before things start getting... well...you know...
"And Arnold hit Brainy! Wow! He's always been so passive!" The smaller girl exclaims, knocking Helga away from her damning thoughts, "He really stood up for you, Helga! That's... something to think about."
"Eh, I'm not stressing too hard on that one, Pheebs," Helga states even though it's been firmly on her mind most the day, especially when trying not to dwell on Brainy too hard, "Football Head just likes being the 'Knight in Shining Armor' type, y'know? He would've done that for any-ol'-kid."
"I don't know," Pheobe smirks in that annoying, knowing way that makes Helga laugh nervously and change the subject, "He wouldn't fly into a rage, so unlike himself, and bust up his knuckles like that, also very, very out of character, for just anyone. You say he cussed, too? I can't even imagine! Arnold's always so... soft spoken!"
Helga lets out a nervous laugh, "Yeah, right? Mister Manners himself dropping a bunch of 'F' bombs in the principal's office! Totally priceless! I bet the guy will wash his own mouth out with soap tonight!"
Phoebe giggles, "Still, he must really think highly of you, Helga. Guys only get that defensive when they care a lot about a girl."
"What are you gettin' at, Ms. Know-It-All?" The blond glares down her counterpart as they continue their walk, "Like I said, he's just... like that! With everyone! I'm nothing special."
"Whatever you say, Helga. Oh! I almost forgot!" Pheobe stops walking and balances her books on one arm while going through her backpack with her free hand, "In all the commotion this morning you dropped something."
The petite girl nabs a very familiar object from her bag, handing it off to Helga.
A large heart-shaped keepsake locket trimmed in gold and, now, caked in mud. The photo encased within is a familiar face, Arnold's casual grin shining back even through the grime. Last year's class photo salvaged from the scraps of the Yearbook Committee's dark room. Helga quickly snatches the beloved object from her friend and tucks it away into her jeans pocket, mud and all.
"Don't be waving that around!" She hisses low, eyes shifting across the street to see if anyone witnessed the transaction.
"Sorry! I noticed the glass is cracked," Pheobe points out although it's impossible for Helga to miss the new imperfection on her cherished locket, "It was like that when I found it in the bushes. I'm sure it can be easily repaired."
The two walk in a knowing silence.
Ever considerate, Phoebe gives Helga a second to cool down before speaking again.
"I believe Arnold's feelings toward you... somewhat reciprocate your own. I mean, just from general observation. If you really think about it, he did knock out a guy with one punch for just breathing on you," The girl points out, "As far as Arnold knew, that's all Brainy had done!"
"Yeah, well," Helga trails off, unfortunately, 'thinking about it' and scowling for the effort. A lot had happened today and part of that did include Arnold, always loyal and true, not hesitating to stand up for her when he assumed something was wrong.
"You've got friends who care about you," Arnold's words echo in her mind, "I care."
Oh, be still my trembling heart!
"Pheebs, you, er, you can keep a secret, right? Yeah, you're good with secrets...," Helga mumbles, thinking aloud.
Pheobe nods, "Of course!"
"Good, well," Helga scratches at the back of her neck the way she does when very nervous,
"Arnold might've, sort of, kind of... saw me crying yesterday."
"Crying?" Pheobe's face falls. Ever the loyal friend, her worry for Helga is heartfelt, "Why were you crying? Is everything ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Helga reassures her, "You, uh, know how I went to see that 'shrink'?"
"Oh no, did it not go well?"
Helga shakes her head, "No, I mean yeah, it did. Strangely enough I-I like the lady."
"That's wonderful, Helga! I'm so glad to hear!"
Helga sighs, "Anyway, after the shrink visit I... sort of ran into Arnold. Well, I did actually, physically run into Arnold while walking home and, I don't know, things in my head just kinda... snapped."
Concern crosses Pheobe's face again, "Snapped?"
"Yeah. Y'see, I wanted to tell Arnold something important, y'know, about me and certain strong feelings and, well, I just couldn't do it. The therapist-, ah, I mean the Doc said it was ok to... like-like him and I didn't have to tell anyone anything but I really did want to tell him! I don't know why... but instead I sorta froze. Don't know why I did that, either!" Helga looks down at the ground, "Or why I just lost it and started bawling. Like, straight-up emotional breakdown right there on the sidewalk! Tears and snot and all! Criminy, how embarrassing is that!?"
Her friend doesn't answer right away. Always the thinker she appears to be working Helga's problem over in that immense brain of hers, "I guess that would be fairly embarrassing. But not for you, Helga. You're the toughest girl I know."
At this, Helga smiles, standing up straighter, "Darn right."
"If you weren't ready to talk to him then it just wasn't the right time. You can't force things sometimes no matter how tough you are. And I'm sure, knowing Arnold, he isn't at all upset with you."
"Yeah, see, that's part of the problem..." Helga trails off, shoulders returning to their usual resting-sag, "Why do you think he got all protective-worried-clingy all the sudden? Because of me... all girlie-crying yesterday!"
"Oh," Pheobe pauses as they step up to Helga's front door, "That-That doesn't sound like a bad thing, though?"
"It doesn't?"
"Not at all! I bet...," Pheobe smirks to herself, "No, I know that is definitely a good reaction. Yes, Arnold cares about everyone around him. However, he was particularly worried for you this morning. So much he acted out in a very uncharacteristic rage. You alone caused him such great emotions... he couldn't contain himself!"
"Hmm," Helga leans back against her front door, "I didn't think of it like that..."
Helga smiles to herself for a moment, then falters, remembering her and Arnold's conversation on the way to the principal's office, something forgotten amid the din of Brainy's photographic skills, stolen undergarments, and concealed weaponry.
"Oh no..."
"What?"
"I-I think Arnold overheard me talking to myself, saying some.... pretty serious things about him right before he whacked Brainy," Helga's heart climbs back into her throat and remains there, firmly lodged.
Oh jeez, what did I say? What did I say!?
Pheobe squints, "How serious?
"My dear, sweet, ever-considerate Arnold! If only you knew just how much my love for you is tearing my very soul apart!..."
Helga gulps.
"I-I almost told you how I feel. Those three words I dare not utter. I wanted to. I yearned to speak them.... "
"Pretty serious."
"Ah, ok," Pheobe leans back against Helga's stoop, placing her books beside her, "Well, that's... er..."
"He whacked Brainy right after! Like, really punched him so hard it knocked the guy square across the lawn!!," Helga burst out in a near-panic, "I've never seen anyone hit so hard! I mean, outside of a wrestling ring. I... was talking to myself and didn't know I wasn't alone. Then Brainy was there. Then... Arnold! He heard me say more than anyone ever needed to hear, especially him! Just-Just kill me now and end it all!," Helga moans, collapsing down against the door in a slow slide before slumping down on the step and burying her head in her hands, "Pheobe, what do I do?"
The petite girl's eyes widen behind her glasses at Helga's sudden unfurling of emotions.
Pheobe clears her throat, almost nervous to respond. She very rarely ever hears Helga open her heart up like this. Perhaps today has really been that difficult for her friend.
"I can't face him again! Not alone! Not ever!" Helga whines into her hands, "He'll just keep asking, I know him! And what can I say? How I love him? How I think about him every second of every day!? How I have like twenty journals full of poetry describing my love for him in minuet detail? I'd sound as crazy as Brainy and Arnold socked Brainy for-for being crazy!!"
Very concerned now, Pheobe places her backpack down on the stoop. She cautiously shuffles up beside Helga and perches beside the forlorn girl.
"I'm sure it's not that bad", Phoebe reassures her quietly, "As stated, he wasn't mad at you. He was mad for you! He's concerned about you, Helga. He cares about you, today proved that. Perhaps his feelings aren't quite as... intense as yours, yet he truly does care! Arnold would never do anything to harm you, at least not on purpose. And he'd never, ever sock you like he did Brainy! No matter what!"
Helga sniffles, still not raising her head. She seems to be thinking over her best friend's kind words before replying.
"You know, you're talking openly about this," Pheobe cautiously points out, "And that's not an easy thing to do. It's a big change for you! Maybe, soon enough, you'll be ready to talk with him, as well!"
Helga peeks up from behind her arms, whimpering defiantly, "Not a chance in hell. You're different, Pheebs! I haven't dedicated the majority of my young life to pining after you! And, unlike him, you don't scare the bejeezus outta me!"
The front door swings open, knocking Helga and Pheobe back into the home's entryway.
"What? What's going on out here?" A woman's voice calls from behind the door, "Helga? Is that you?"
"Yes, Miriam," Helga growls, quickly recovering her composure even as she lays sprawled on the ground.
Both girls struggle back to their feet.
"What were you girls doing out here? Did you get locked out? Are you ok?" Helga's disheveled, half-awake mother speaks in her usual, far-away voice.
"We're fine, Mother. Everything's fine. Now go back to the couch, to your beloved smoothies, and leave us alone."
Unphased, Miriam shuffles away back toward the darkened tv-lit living room, "I just didn't want your father coming home and accidently stepping on you girls..."
"Hah," Helga says in a flat tone, "Accidently. At least then he might notice I exist..."
Helga realizes Miriam hasn't the faintest clue what happened today at school. She doubts Bob bothered calling to tell her. When Mr. Pataki came by the school earlier he was livid with just about everyone, partially because a boy was creeping on his daughter long enough to take embarrassing photos, yet, also, and somehow, more importantly, Bob was pulled away from a "very serious meeting with a high dollar client and I don't have time for this bullshit right now! You cops better handle this and handle it well or else my lawyers will be breathing down your incompetent, overpaid necks!"
At least Bob asked if she was ok.
At least she got a hug, even as short as it was.
"Guess I'll see ya later, Pheebs," Helga sighs, following Miriam inside the lifeless husk of a home, "Thanks for, er, listening and all that jazz."
"Anytime!"
Helga pauses, glancing back over her shoulder at her one and only true friend in this world, forever grateful she exists, "Hey, Pheebs?"
"Yes?"
"Forget I said anything."
"Forgetting!"
Helga winks and points the double guns at her friend.
Arnold lays on the carpet dead center his room, staring up through the skylight ceiling to a darkened twilight and the very, very dim glow of distant stars ever-dulled by bright city lights.
"Hey, Shortman, you alright?" His grandfather peeks his head in the doorway, holding a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.
"I'm fine, Grandpa," Arnold states honestly, eyes still locked on the sky above. Arms folded behind his head, knees crossed, thoughts a bit of a mess, "Just... trying to relax the day away."
"Yeah, about that," Grandpa Phil steps inside the room and places the cookies and milk on the floor beside Arnold before taking a seat on the bed, "If you, er, wanna talk about anything..."
They sit in silence for a moment. Distant voices in the boarding house below of the tenants arguing with his grandmother in the kitchen area. A dog barking a few houses over.
The old man clears his throat, "I mean if you have any questions or the like."
"Yeah, actually," Arnold states, finally blinking and turning to the older man, "How long will my fist be sore?"
The man chuckles, "Well, from what that principal gal told me when she called, you hit the kid hard enough to knock him out cold turkey! And he had big, thick nerd glasses on, right?"
"Yeah, that's where the cuts came from," Arnold lifts his right hand in front of his face, examining the bruises and small puncture wounds, "Grandma taped my index and middle fingers together. She said 'just in case one decides to fall off'. I don't know what that means, the school nurse said they were fine, just bruised."
"Yeah, well, Pookie has a strange way about her. She means well," Phil sighs, "Eh I'm sure you can take the tape off. Nothing's gonna fall off."
"Good," Arnold goes back to staring up at the skylight.
"Not a lot of stars up there tonight," his grandpa points out, "Too many clouds. Too much city. You can see zillions out in the country but not here. So much for the big window to the sky, right?," He pauses then rises from his spot on the edge of the couch, "Welp, I'll be leavin' you to your thoughts and cookies and whatnot."
Yet before leaving the room, the old man turns to his grandson in the doorway, "Y'know, when I was your age I once hit a guy so hard I knocked two teeth from his head!"
"You did?" Arnold sits up on his elbows.
"Sure! Georgie Spimento! Loud mouthed little snot, that boy..."
"Why did you hit him?"
His grandfather thinks for a moment, "Well, honestly, I don't recall. Oh, wait! Yeah! The kid walked right up to a girl on the baseball field and slapped her across the face!"
"Really?" Arnold frowns.
"Eh, if you ask me, I punched him a little too hard," Phil rubs his knuckles at the memory.
"Why's that?"
"The girl he hit wasn't much of a girl. Was a bully, actually. And she just called Georgie something rotten."
"What'd she say?"
"I believe... she called him a loud-mouthed little snot!"
Arnold rolls his eyes, laying back down on the rug, "Still should never hit a girl."
"That's what I said! Anyway, yeah, I'd say your hand will be fine in about a week so long as you don't clobber any more fellas. That's about how long mine took."
"Thanks, grandpa."
"Anytime," His grandfather goes to leave then sticks his head back in the room, "Oh! Hey, that girl, the bully girl Georgie slapped! Y'know, the funniest thing..."
"What?"
His grandfather laughs, "That was your grandma! Boy, she was a bit of a pain in the you-know-what back then. Always pushin' every boy around. Especially me!"
Arnold blinks, looking over at him, "Then why did you hit Georgie?"
"Because he slapped your grandma! You crazy boy! Don't need any other reason than that! Sheesh!"
The door shuts and his grandfather's footfalls move down the steps back into the house below, leaving Arnold in silence staring up at the sky with only his thoughts for company.
The photograph...
Arnold reaches into a pocket and pulls out a folded Polaroid image. He squints over at the door, making sure he's actually alone before unfolding the item.
The image, a Polaroid, is grainy and water-damaged from being in the grass all day. He didn't mean to find it. More or less, it found him. He was sitting out front the school waiting for his grandfather to come pick him up just after lunch time. The Principal had excused Arnold early on account of the Brainy incident. There, sitting on the school's front steps, a piece of paper had blown out from the bushes and across the sidewalk in front of him. Without thinking, the boy reached down and picked it up.
Arnold fixates on the image as he had earlier. Most of the shock has worn off, leaving only a curious, albeit wrongful, interest.
Why didn't I turn this in? Or even just throw it away?
When Phil had pulled up in the Packard, Arnold hastily shoved the item into his pocket, pretending nothing happened. The flushed cheeks and dazed expression were harder to conceal.
This photograph is one of Brainy's. It eluded confiscation most likely by getting caught in the nearby shrubbery. The image shows a female figure standing amid a dimly lit bedroom and appears to be taken through a window, the reflection of a tree and, what appears to be Brainy's shadowy outline perched in the tree, just barely visible in the glass. The girl is removing her clothes with a t-shirt up over her head obscuring her face. Blond pigtails poking out from within the shirt, very familiar pigtails.
Arnold gulps.
She isn't entirely nude, thank god, for Arnold would never, ever be able to face Helga G. Pataki again without turning as red as a fire truck and stuttering until he collapses. The only article of clothing, beside the t-shirt, is a pair of pink panties. Very small pink panties. Not something Arnold would expect a total tomboy like Helga to wear. Somehow they reveal too much and, at the same time, far too little. Even more shocking is the girl's body. Her delicate, feminine figure is a completely overwhelming, mind-bending, sweat-inducing surprise. Helga is thin, as he would expect, yet with a wonderful array of slim, gentle curves. Her active participation in sports and the like has toned her stomach, arms, and legs just... beautifully.
Arnold takes a deep breath as he stares the photo down.
And when the hell did Helga Pataki get tits?
Last he remembers she was a twig of a girl, flat as a board and built like an irate stick figure. At some point, this changed. Helga has always been "pretty" but very much asserted herself as just another "one of the guys" in their group. As it's becoming very apparent, her ill-fitting, baggy clothes, no doubt hand-me-downs from her older sister Olga, mute her form so badly that, when the girl hit puberty, no one was the wiser. Or maybe Arnold just doesn't look at his classmate in that way. At this point in the young teenager's life, he has casually ogled all the girls in his class to some degree as the other guys discuss them in whispered snickers and lewd jeers. Helga managed to skim through below the radar probably out of a mutual fear of them all getting a clobbering. Arnold is left kicking himself for not having braved a look-see, for in the photograph he now holds the girl's breasts are in full view and he's locked in a staring contest with them.
Thanks, Brainy. I'll never get this image out of my head. From now on I'll never NOT be able to see Helga topless! Oh, this is going to be just GREAT...
Not too small, not too big, perky and just... so wow. Pale and pink perfect handfuls.
"What are you looking at, football head?!" Arnold can hear the girl's shrill voice in his head, "My eyes are up here!"
He gives the picture a faint smirk.
Maybe it'd be worth the black eye to stare.
It takes all the teen's effort to pry his eyes from the Polaroid and slip it back into his pocket.
"Damn," Arnold sighs, reaching over and blindly grabbing a cookie off the plate his grandfather left behind then shoving it in his mouth as he lay on the floor, "What a day..."
Another knock, a quieter one this time, sounds on the door.
"Come in," Arnold calls, expecting his slightly unpredictable grandmother.
The door creaks open.
"I already took the tape off, Grandma," Arnold sighs, going to sit up on his elbows again,
"Grandpa says my hand will be fine and no fingers are going to fall off anytime soon- Oh. It's...uh, you!"
"Yep," Helga steps sheepishly into the room looking like a deer in headlights. Eyes as wide as saucers. Arms already crossing over her chest in a defensive stance, "It's, uh, me."
Arnold stumbles to his feet as Helga lingers inside the suddenly-too-small space of the bedroom.
"What... can I do for you?" He asks, unsure how to handle this situation, nor what to even say.
Not to mention, Helga standing in his bedroom just feels... weird. Like an enemy crossing into his base. His private lair, his sanctuary has been ambushed. It doesn't help he was just staring longingly at a nearly nude image of her. Arnold can feel the flush in his cheeks, trying to will it away. A pit of guilt building in his stomach for having leered at the Polaroid for so long like some huge pervert.
Thanks, Brainy. Now I'm a creep, too!
"Well, first of all, you can give me one of those cookies," Helga says in her familiar cross tone, really holding up her walls now, "And not the one you just had in your mouth and spit out on the floor like some barnyard animal."
Arnold wipes the crumbs from his shirt and picks up a fresh cookie from the plate, handing it off to her, "Why are you here?"
"Jeez, Arnoldo! I can just leave if you don't want me around! Some host you are!," Helga goes to hand the cookie back and walk away.
Always with the backlash no matter what I say.
At this point, after today, after all the mixed emotions, he wishes, for once, they could talk as friends. This need for friendship is much more important to him after having gone through the Brainy ordeal together. Besides, they've known each other all these years and there's no reason they can't be friendly with one another. They would get along fine if she'd drop those walls already. Plus, after viewing that picture, he'd damn well like to at least be cordial with the girl!
"Helga...," Arnold crosses his arms, "Stop it. You're being a jerk again."
"Well that's just me, I guess!" He watches as she takes the cookie back and shoves it in her mouth instead, taking a very unladylike bite before pacing away.
The girl pauses at the center of the room, her eyes moving from wall to wall as she examines his belongings, "So this is your place, eh?"
"You've been here before," He mutters, "A few times."
"Yeah it doesn't get any less weird," The girl mirrors his feelings exactly.
She's dressed as always; shapeless, faded pink tank top and old jeans cut off and rolled up at the knee with a green plaid, baggy flannel shirt. Her being such a tomboy, it's never made sense to Arnold why she wears pink nearly every day. Then again Olga was quite the girlie girl at Helga's age. The flannel shirt is obviously still too big, maybe one of her dad's, but much more Helga than anything pink. Her pigtails are worn down at her shoulders with a gray beanie that never, ever seems to leave her head. She's starting to come into her own grungy, lazy style, even with such few resources provided by her uncaring family. Helga's never been one for tight, revealing, uncomfortable anything. The times he's seen her in dresses they were two sizes too big and shapeless tents. Well, since puberty, at least, and apparently, since she grew breasts.
His eyes stray down, catching the faint outline of a now-very-familiar silhouette just beneath it all.

Yeah, it doesn't get any less weird, alright...
"Look, about today," Arnold slumps down to his couch, too emotionally defeated to deal with any more issues and still uncomfortably curious about the folded Polaroid in his pocket, "I'm... really, really sorry I didn't stand up for you sooner, Helga. I wish I had."
His classmate snorts, munching away at the remaining bits of cookie as she stops near his bed, "Don't mention it, Hair Boy. I stood up for myself nearly every day by back-handing that skeez with my own fist!"
"It's not right you had to do that," Arnold frowns, watching her oddly meticulous examination of his bookshelves, "Someone should've been there for you."
"Hah, you read this garbage?" She changes the subject, a normal move for Helga Pataki, as the girl plucks a book off the shelf and idly thumbs through it.
Arnold sighs, "Stop that and just... come sit down," He pats the couch beside him.
"Stop what?" Helga glances over at him, unwittingly placing the book back on the shelf upside down.
"You're here for a reason, aren't you?"
She frowns, refusing his invitation, instead pacing about the room, eyes upturned to the skylight,
"Yeah ok, well, I came over here to... to... Thank you, I guess."
"Ok," Arnold watches her stop at the center of his bedroom looking anywhere but at him seated on the couch. "I don't think I deserve a thank you," he adds pointedly.
She snorts a laugh and gives him a quick glare, "Don't be all 'high and mighty', Arnold! Just accept my thanks so I can leave!"
"Why do you do this, Helga?" Arnold states, finally annoyed, "You're always coming at people with such aggression! Especially me! What did I ever do to you? Just tell me so I can apologize and we can move on already!"
Helga turns to stare at him in a sort of shock, "I-..." Her gaze blinks back down to the carpet, arms crossing again, "I should probably just go."
Shoulders hunched in defeat, she starts toward the door as Arnold scrambles up from the couch.
"Hey, wait, no," He backtracks.
Arnold always forgets just how sensitive Helga is. Sure she's an emotional roller coaster and the toughest chick in school, well, besides Patty. However, Helga really does take things to heart. Even him slightly losing his cool can make her close up like a fortress and retreat at the drop of a hat.
"I just-," Arnold states quickly, "I just wish you would talk to me like a normal person-"
"Well I'm not a normal person, am I!?" Helga growls as she tosses what remains of the cookie back at Arnold. The projectile snack bounces off the couch, landing on the carpet nearby,
"Things aren't that simple, Football Head! My life isn't that simple! Yours might be, what with your fancy room and your fancy things and-and your fancy family! Some of us have a lot more stress than your carefree, wonderful little existance! Some of us don't have it that great, ok!?"
"I know you don't, Helga, I know that! Trust me, I do!" Arnold realizes he's set her off pretty bad, trying to calm the girl again.
"You don't know shit, kid! You sleep on top of the world with the damn stars over your head all quiet and peaceful! I, however, spend most my nights with a pillow over my head and headphones on trying not to hear my parents cussing each other out! Half the time I don't even get fed dinner because no one cares enough to remember!"
"I'm-I'm sorry, Really, I didn't mean-"
"Forget it, just-" The irate girl starts down the stairs leaving Arnold watching, helpless, "Forget I even said anything! I'll walk myself out. Thanks for helping again, Arnold. Next time just-just let me handle my own problems like I always do, got it!?"
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The Creeps