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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
"I dunno Arnold. She's pretty and all, but… Helga?" Gerald's voice was incredulous. "You really think it would be worth it?

Arnold sighed, shifting the phone from one ear to the other. He was sprawled out on his bed, watching the clouds through the grimy skylight. "I don't know." He reached out to grab his stereo remote, and pressed 'play'. "I really like her, Gerald, and she was good fun last night, wasn't she?" Gerald responded enthusiastically, the previous evening had been a blast. "But I couldn't even hold her hand, man. Remember those long-winded bitch sessions she used to have?" Gerald just laughed in reply. Everyone remembered those. "What if I made a move and she just went ballistic at me?"

"So ask her out on a date! If she knows that you're gonna make a play, there's less chance of her having a conniption, yeah? Call her up, invite her to some romantic dinner or some shit, and see what she says. Maybe do it after the party though…"

"Yeah. You're right. I'll ask her out after Friday." Arnold sighed again, completely at a loss. What he wanted to do was call Helga right now and ask her over to watch movies with him, but Gerald had already pointed out that he would look like a stalker if he did.

"I wouldn't have picked it, Arnold my man. Helga Pataki." Arnold let Gerald have his laugh. After all, this was Helga… He toyed with his cell phone as Gerald chuckled away. "Ah man, I gotta go. Tomorrow, yeah? Sunday night B-ball."

"Sure thing, Gerald."

"Remember man, play it cool!" There was a little note of warning in Gerald's voice, although he was still chuckling a bit when he hung up.

Arnold stayed sprawled across the bed, staring at the sky, listening to Miles Davis. He considered Gerald's advice. He knew he shouldback off a bit or something. Girls swarmed around Gerald, so Arnold figured he knew what he was on about, but… but Arnold wasn't like his best friend.

Arnold was the guy who put on a nice shirt and combed his hair and took a girl flowers if he liked her. He would do that tonight, disregard Gerald's council and turn up on Helga's doorstep with a bunch of daisies, if he wasn't scared she would laugh at him, or slam the door in his face.

He knew she wasn't really a bad person. Even back in school, he had always kinda liked her. She could be really mean, and more than once he had completely blanked her as she was trying to mock him, but he remembered the look on her face when he did that. Just before a nasty sneer turned up her lips, her face would fall, her big eyes suddenly full of hurt.

He always understood that Helga was sad. Her mother, Miriam, had a drinking problem that was common knowledge. The few times Arnold had seen her at parent-teacher interviews and the like, she was a wreck. At the 'official' graduation party, Miriam had passed out behind the Berman's piano.

'Big Bob' Pataki was no better. He openly favoured his older daughter, Olga, to Helga. Helga even endured being called the wrong name, as her father couldn't be bothered to remember hers. Arnold sighed heavily as he remembered Helga's rote reply to being called Olga. He could almost hear her resigned voice… "It's Helga, Dad." Then Bob's impatient "Yeah yeah yeah, Helga, anyway, as I was saying…"

No wonder Helga had held so much animosity towards him. Arnold didn't even have his parents, but he was still more loved than her. He realized that, as far as he knew, no one had ever treated her like she was special. She got good grades, she played baseball like a pro, and she was gorgeous (he appreciated that now) but she had been pretty much ignored, except by brainy. Arnold smiled to himself. Having brainy wheezing over your shoulder would be more of an insult than an ego boost. He knew that insecurity was the reason she had attacked him whenever he was nice to her, and he wished now that he had been even nicer.

He had pressed his jacket onto her the night before, as they were walking home from the bar they had all gone to after the movie. When she had protested, he had made a reference to a scene in Pulp fiction, arguing that in was in character. She took the jacket, but she had still been obviously uncomfortable. She had just stared at him like he was a madman.

He felt his heart reach out for the girl who couldn't even accept the age-old ritual of the guy giving the girl the coat…

"Ah, screw this." He muttered to himself. He wanted to see her. He wasn't going to freak her out by trying to 'court' her openly, but he would try to spend more time with her. He unlocked his phone and tapped out a casual message.

Hey Helga. Just about Friday, the party isn't 'fancy dress' as such, but it'll be kinda nostalgic. Sid's going to try find some white cowboy boots, I have an old plaid shirt and my blue hat, that kind of thing. How long has it been since you've had your hair in pigtails! :D Arnold.

He flung his phone onto the bed, hoping that Helga would keep up some kind of text-conversation. He stood up and paced a bit, roving his eyes around his room. He needed to do a bit of a fix-up on his fold-down sofa, one of the springs needed to be fixed into place, and the hinges needed oiling.

He checked his phone after he made a trip down to the basement, returning with the power drill, some screws and a can of CRC. No messages. He mended his sofa, returned the tools, and was checking his emails and things when his phone buzzed. That tiny thrill of excitement ran through him as he opened the message.

Pigtails? Do you remember the last time I socked you one? Probably not since then ;) Pity the party's not down at the courts, I could thrash you at B-ball. For old times sake.

Arnold was laughing as he replied. She had always been pretty good at sports.

Is that a challenge?

His phone beeped with her retort only moments later.

You got a ball?

He could see it from his desk, he would need to pump it up, though. It was only eleven in the morning, and he needed to run some errands for Grandma… he thought for a second…

You and me, courts, 3 o'clock.

He held the phone in his lap, staring at the screen until it leaped into life with her response.

Wear the hat.

Arnold was early, and he leaned against a tall wire fence as he waited for Helga to turn up. He tugged self consciously at his much-loved hat.

"Short-man!" Arnold started at Helga's voice, and turned to face her. "Ready to eat asphalt?" She was standing on the other side of the wire, her hands on her hips, a dark eyebrow raised.

-gulp-

"Is that... the dress?" He asked, eyeing her appreciatively. She was wearing what he supposed was once a dress, but was now more of a long singlet. It was suspiciously pink, and quite form-fitting. She was wearing a white singlet underneath it, but it was still quite... strappy. Best of all was what was on her legs. He supposed she had to wear something, or that top would be indecent, but the grey leggings she had on hugged her tight. On her feet were big white Nike high-tops, the kind that were insanely cool when they were kids. Their bulk made her legs look even longer and more delicate. He could feel that big moony grin spreading across his face...

"Depends... is that the hat?" She was squeezing through a hole in the fence, swearing when a curled wire snagged on her hair.

He watched her as she dropped her bag on the ground and reached up to re-tie her ponytail. Just like she had when she had got sick of her wig the night before, she leaned her head right back and shook out her hair, exposing her long, white throat. His eyes lingered in that little dip between her collarbones, then moved to her hair. He was very conscious to not look lower. He had made that mistake the night before, and had been wondering since if she had been wearing a bra...

He liked Helga, he felt kind of bad having impure thoughts about her. Inwardly, he groaned, maybe Gerald was right when he said that Arnold was was too nice for his own good. It wasn't like Helga would know when he was picturing her in various states of undress.

"The one and only!" He said brightly, forcing himself to snap back to reality.

"Of course it is." She squinted at the worn blue cap sitting on top of his head. "Rhonda used to bemoan that thing." She struck a prim pose, her wrist held out in front of her, her nose high in the air. "Oh, if only Arnold would wear something a bit more fashionable! He would be tres magnafique!"

Laughing his soft laugh, he shook his head at her. "You were always way worse about my hat than Rhonda... to my face, anyway."

She stood for a second, turning a bit pink, before she shrugged. "I suppose." pause. "But then I could hardly talk, could I?" She smoothed out her old pink dress, sighing dramatically. "This thing was subject to many a cruel barb. I was just as poorly dressed as you were... in your skirt..." A sly smile spread across her face, and Arnold couldn't help but laugh with her. Most of the shirts he wore back then, he could still easily get into now. He had no idea why he had worn them so long.

"So that is the dress!" He exclaimed, taking the opportunity to look her up and down again. "I can't believe it still fits after what, twelve, thirteen years?"

Helga shrugged again, her face turned red and she was biting her bottom lip. "I liked my clothes baggy." She said tersely, almost snapping. Taking her eyes from his face, she leaned forward to knock the ball out from under Arnold's arm, and caught it as it bounced away. "We gonna play?"

Arnold frowned. Had he said something wrong?

"Oi, you!" Helga moved up to a group of kids playing ball. They stopped the game in an instant, their small faces gaping up at Her like she was a deity. "Shove it down to half-court, will ya? I have a game to win here." The kids dutifully tramped down to the far end, one or two scowling at her as they left. "Oh suck it up." Helga yelled at them. She turned back to Arnold, waving him over. Her mouth opened to say something, but then her face screwed up, a grin evident in her eyes, and she just shook her head.

"We used to hate it when big kids would take over the courts like that." Arnold said softly, his voice nostalgic, as opposed to admonishing.

Helga snorted. "Yeah. And then you and Gerald would come up with a plan to get our courts back, I would laugh at you, you would rally the troops and give us all a big pep talk, and we would end up victorious." She spun the ball on the tip of her index finger. "You gonna stand there yakking all day? Or are we gonna get this over with?" Her tone was the old cynical snarl he knew, but her face was a light, a big grin crinkling up her eyes.

Arnold nodded in response. A grin on his face, he crouched into his fighting stance and pushed the sleeves of his t-shirt up his arms. "Give it your best shot, Pataki."

"Woo!" Helga hollered, she turned and bounded down the court, the thwak of the ball against the concrete. "Game on!"

Half an hour later, they were sprawled at the end of the court, watching the kids resume their game. Helga accepted the bottle of water from Arnold, and fanned her face with her free hand. "Phew, I'm outta shape."

"You and me both." Arnold smiled, watching her through his half-closed eyes. "Although obviously I have let myself go to seed. I don't think you would have won if it was a question of skill..."

Helga chuckled. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Arnold..." She was obviously in a good mood. Arnold knew full well why he had lost: he couldn't keep his head on the game. When he tried to block her, he kept realising that she was standing in the circle of his arms. When she bent over, or ran fast enough, the hem of her short dress would ride up, almost to the place where girls start to get real curvy. He had spent the game forcing himself not to get too close, and trying not to look where he shouldn't. It was exhausting.

He watched the kids play for a moment, then caught Helga biting her lip in mirth again, obviously trying not to burst into hysterics.

"Spit it out, Helga." Arnold said warily. He waved his cap at her. "Go on, let it off your chest."

Helga just shook her head, her shoulders were hunched and her face was red with silent laughter. Arnold stayed quiet, he eyeballed her, trying to keep a straight, serious face, but smiling despite himself.

"It... its just..." her breath was coming in big gasps, as she tried to bottle up her amusement. "When... you said... about my dress still fitting... I was gonna say the same thing... back... to you... but... but..."

A bubble of laughter burst out from Arnold's throat. Jesus, she had wanted to make fun of him, and had actually tried to hold back... "But... its not like my head could have grown any bigger?"

Helga wailed, dropping her head and putting her hands over her face as she heaved with laughter. She couldn't even talk, so she just shook her head.

"Go on Helga... say it." a smile pulled at the corner of Arnold's lips. He had never, ever seen Helga laugh like this. Somehow he knew that it wasn't really at him, either, but at their old situation, at how she used to be.

"Noooooo!" Helga moaned from behind her hands. "I caaaaan't!"

"Go on. It'll make you feel better... I don't mind." Arnold battled against his arm, which wanted to lay itself over her shoulders. When Helga still refused, her laughter now almost sobbing, he sighed, and flicked a pebble at her. "Tell you what, I'll give you one free jibe, for old times sake, with no repercussions."

Helga lifted her head and looked him straight in the eye, tears on her cheeks. "Good game... Football Head!"
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Not exactly the ugly duckling