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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
6: Asking For More

Helga slumps against the back of Bob's Hummer watching with dull eyes as her father carries on with his two lawyer pals in the Police Station parking garage. Up a few floors and in a stuffy office she had sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair for what seemed like forever, eyes on the floor, far away from the argument her father and lawyers were having with the chief of police. It didn't matter. This whole thing with Brainy, as long as he goes away and leaves her alone, she doesn't really care what happens to him. What matters is how her heart has become a giant void, a cave-like depression eating away at her insides after Arnold ran off last night. To make matters worse he took one of her journals with him. Right from the center of the altar, so she knows he saw everything in the closet.
But why? And there's not a peep from him today! Not a phone call, a letter, smoke signals, carrier pigeon, nothing! What I've feared would happen all along... has finally come to fruition. Arnold found out. It went badly. Now he wants nothing to do with me!
Helga's limp body slides down to the bumper. With a shuddering exhale she leans forward and buries her face in her hands.
Once again I've ruined everything!
Last night the girl slept terribly. Pacing the room in the moonlight. Cycling through different scenarios of what Arnold was doing just then. Of what might take place today.
This- this dreadful silence, not knowing what he's thinking is just... the absolute worst!
Feeling braver once dawn broke Helga gave Arnold a call. His grandfather picked up, claiming Arnold was still asleep.
Well, it was 7 am on a Saturday morning...
When several hours pass by with no returning call, she starts to doubt anything good will come of the night before.
We kissed! HE kissed ME! Things were going wonderfully! Then I showed him the damn shrine. That's like... laying out your biggest secrets and worst attributes on a first date! "Hi! I'm into you but I'm also a psychotic freak!" Total deal breaker!
"K let's head home, Olga," Bob steps up to the Hummer and unlocks the driver's side door.
"It's Helga," The girl rises from the bumper, fists at her side, "Think I'll just walk home. I... need some air."
"You sure, kiddo? The house is more than a few blocks away."
"I'm sure," Helga has already started off across the lot, wanting nothing to do with the man who just spent the last few hours using his daughter's predicament as a ploy to drain money from Brainy's family by suing them for everything and anything possible. Mental Scaring, Defamation of Character, Theft, Lewd and Lascivious Acts on a Minor, you name it, Bob's lawyers spit it out.
Helga walks on for blocks blindly navigating the streets and only heading in the right direction due to having grown up in this city and knowing it's layout like the back of her hand.
Arnold's probably sitting with Gerald and the rest of the guys right now, reciting lines from the stolen journal in his best Helga Pataki impression as they fall over laughing.
She grimaces, knowing Arnold would never do something so childish and mean.
Or would he? There have been some moments where I pushed him too far...
Helga pauses, oddly enough finding herself standing on the sidewalk in front of Hillwood High. Curious, she lingers near the entrance, examining the area where Arnold had taken on Brainy the previous day. The only sign anything had happened is the dent in the grass where Brainy had come to a skidding halt. She looks around for any trash or debris, finding nothing.
No more Helga smut... Well, that's good, at least. Although Arnold still has the one picture. He could be waving it around to all his friends right now.
She blushes, gets mad at blushing and curses while kicking at the disturbed sod with the toe of her shoe.
Arnold wouldn't embarrass me like that. Punching Brainy isn't the only time he's stood up for me. He's a good guy. Not a total jerk like most the others...
She frowns, stepping away from the school and onward toward home.
Then why hasn't he talked to me yet today? You know what? Screw this! I'm going over there right now to find out what's up, myself! No more waiting around pouting like some sappy, whiny little wuss!
Helga veers left and stomps off toward her new destination. Moments later and she's standing on the steps to Sunset Arms, banging on the door. After a few moments, the door swings open.
"Well hello, there little lady!" Arnold's strange grandfather gives the girl an odd grin, "Thought you had run off for good the other night! Arnold musta brought you some flowers like I suggested, didn't he?"
"Ah, no?" Helga squints at the old man, "Flowers?"
"Nevermind that," He winks, "You here lookin' for the boy?"
"Y-Yes sir."
"Well drat!," His grandfather sighs, "You just missed him! He was headed somewhere in a hurry, too. Probably going to get them flowers! Or chocolates? Told him you can never lose with some good chocolates!"
Helga backs down the steps, "You don't know where he went?"
"Not a clue!" The man brings a hand to his chin, thinking, "Had some notebook with him. Said he was going out to meet a friend. Thought that meant you! But if you're here and he's not, who knows?"
They say their goodbyes before Helga staggers back to the sidewalk in a daze, mind racing.
Notebook? Meet with a friend!? He-He IS going to show someone my journal! Probably Gerald so they can have a damn good laugh at my expense!
Just a few blocks run and the panting girl is at Gerald's place, banging on the front door.
"Helga?" Gerald answers the door, giving the exhausted girl a cockeyed stare, "You alright? Look like you just ran a marathon!"
"Arnold!" She blurts out, "Is Arnold here!?"
"No? Why?"
"Oh thank god..." Helga leans back against the railing on Gerald's stoop.
"Uh, what's going on, Helga?" Gerald goes to step out from the house.
"None of your business!" She snaps back, stepping down the stairs two at a time.
"Wait! What's up with Arnold?!"
Without any more formalities, the girl jogs off again, determined to find the boy with her journal before he does whatever he's going to do. At one point she even stopped by her house to see if he was actually looking for her. Miriam said no one had been by.
How would you even know, Miriam!? You were passed out at the kitchen table drooling on the tablecloth again!
An hour later and Helga is left alone in the looming twilight, well past dinner time, too nauseated from running around panicked to even consider food.
Maybe I should go to Pheobe's. Just crash there tonight and cry my damn eyes out. She would understand. She'd get it.
This is the complete opposite of how Helga felt before all this happened after leaving Dr. Bliss' office the other day. The light, airy freedom replaced by an almost familiar, heavy sadness. Although this time there is no Arnold worship for distracting her away from the edge of despair. Only impending doom of what him having one of her more intimate journals and that pervy photo could bring to her social life and mental well-being.
She pauses in her dragging walk and steps into a familiar large alleyway behind a row of shops. A place she's gone often, clutching her locket, exclaiming her love and loathing of a certain football headed moron.
This time the locket she pulls out is broken and smeared with dried mud.
"Well that's fitting...," She sniffs, "Looks like how my own stupid heart feels."
Helga wipes some away, just enough to see his smiling face, and slumps against the nearest brick wall.
"I trusted you, Arnold," Her voice quakes, "I do trust you! Even though you're out somewhere with my journal and probably that-that Brainy picture doing who knows what. No, I still believe you'll do the right thing and not show everyone in school how much of a messed up freak I am."
Tears threaten to fall. Helga blinks them away, rubbing her sleeve over her eyes.
"This isn't how it was supposed to be! I never wanted to tell you how I really felt! Ever! Things were fine the way they were! Just pining for you, going slightly mad doing so, but it was tolerable! Much better than this dreadful waiting, wondering, wishing I didn't even exist! Now you know what I really am. Just some-some sick, messed up creep!"
The girl sighs, "Well, this is my fate. I better resign myself to it. You know I love you. You know I'm obsessed on a vulgar level. You even know what I look like in my underwear. This... fate is worse than death. I give up, Universe, you win this round."
She brings the locket to her chest, lowering her head, "Arnold... my love... I just hope you don't hate me forever."
A sound.
Shoes on grit on cement.
Only a foot or two behind her.
Helga freezes to the spot.
Someone is there.
Like always.
No.
Sick with fear where annoyance once was. Momentarily paralyzed. After being revealed for what he is. His questionable intentions. Whatever perverse mind games he was trying to play. But she's just as bad, isn't she? Just as messed up.
If I turn around now, I may as well be facing myself.
Helga imagines Brainy's foul breath fanning her neck, camera in hand, maybe even a knife.
Criminy isn't he on house arrest? It can't be him. Unless the freak snuck out looking for Yours Truly. In which case he'd be looking for a confrontation. Nothing to lose. Nothing to gain.
Well, you've met your match, bucko.
Helga takes a deep breath and whirls around, rage and terror evident on her face, body poised to fight back.
"I don't hate you, Helga," Arnold stands, looking sheepish for having eavesdropped on the girl's private self-conversation.
Helga's stiff composure does not fall away.
Arnold standing in Brainy's place is both a huge relief and... just as terrifying, if not more.
The boy looks like he slept in an elevator. His hair tousled, clothes disheveled, the faintest of circles under his pink-rimmed eyes. No journal in sight..
No flowers either.
Or chocolates.
"A-Arnold! How long were you-"
"Awhile," He gives a weak smile, looking nervous.
She eyes him, noting how peculiar the boy is acting. Like he's guilty of something.
Her eyes squint to an accusing glare, "Where were you all day?!"
Arnold rubs the back of his neck, looking away, "I was... looking for you, actually. Woke up late and when I called back no one picked up. Everywhere I went you weren't there. Even stopped by your dad's cell phone store. He said you walked home from the police station?"
Helga looks to the ground as well, composure wilting, "Yeah..."
Arnold was doing what I was doing this whole time? We've been running around like maniacs... looking for each other? I'm... not sure I believe him. He's acting suspiciously. He still could've shown the journal and picture to all their classmates by now. Printed copies and made flyers to hand out around town. Made life-size posters to throw darts at-
"Helga," Arnold steps up to her.
She tries not to take a step back, knowing there's a brick wall there and she won't get far.
Arnold reaches out and places his hands on her shoulders, not to throttle the life from her but to embrace her as he leans in for a kiss. A very passionate, sloppy, drawn-out kiss complete with battling tongues and all the works.
Completely caught off-guard, having expected insults and mockery, maybe even a shove or two, Helga goes to stumble back and finds herself sandwiched between Arnold and the cold bricks. Which is fine, she needed the support anyway, her knees having given out beneath her.
He's not mad. HE'S NOT MAD! HE LIKES ME!!
She grasps his shoulders, shoving him aside and back against the wall himself, pinning him in place.
"What do you think you're doing, Football Head!?"
Arnold gaps at the girl, cheeks flushed, "I- sorry... I wasn't thinking, I-"
HE KISSED ME!! HE DIDN'T BETRAY ME! ARNOLD-wait why did I stop him?!
"Just... shut up," Helga throws herself at him like a ragdoll off a bridge, lips first of course. Her body sandwiching him against the wall as they kiss.
Arnold gives a little whimper, his own knees quivering under his weight.
Something falls from his coat in the make-out struggle.
The two pause, Arnold sliding down the wall to retrieve the item.
"I knew you took it!" Helga exclaims, her eyes narrowing, "Say, what's the deal?"
He stands back up, stuck between bricks and an unpredictable girl.
With a gulp and a prayer or two, Arnold clears his throat, "Er, well, I think we may both be creeps."
Helga's glare remains, "What are you driving at, weirdo?"
Arnold hands the journal back to Helga. His eyes dart away to the safety of the ground, still unable to meet hers for longer than a second. His cheeks tinged with red.
"I... read the whole thing," He mumbles, "Twice."
"Criminy! Why!?" Helga's face flushes so fast she feels she may faint.
"I wanted to know what was going on with you, Helga," He looks up to meet her glare with his own desperate one, "All these secrets! I-I don't understand why you didn't just tell me! I mean, the locket with my face in it Grandpa was showing off! What you went through to get my hat back from the dump! That love poem my parrot kept reciting! The Nancy Spumoni snow boots you gave up to reunite Mr. Yuen with his daughter!," His eyes narrow, "Cecile!"
Helga goes to back away.
Arnold gently grasps her arm, quietly adding, "The closet."
"Uh, o-ok?" Her mind races in circles, "So you know about the shrine! So what! I kinda figured, seeing as I shoved you in my damn closet last night!"
"No," Arnold gives a sly little smile and shakes his head, "My closet."
Oh... Oh no. That was in... that journal!?
Arnold beams at her reaction, planting another long, soft, wet kiss on the bewildered girl, her journal awkwardly sandwiched between them.
All the while Helga screaming in her mind.
She thought enclosing him in his own shrine was bad enough. That journal... that was one never meant to be read by another soul. Of all people, he had to read the darn thing. Twice! Now he know's everything there is to know about Helga's dark obsession. Well, almost everything. Far too much.
They separate and this time when he steps back, he leaves the journal pressed against her chest.
She nabs the stolen book, eyeing him with a profound, unknowing horror.
Arnold simply smiles, stating bluntly, "I would like another."
Helga blinks, eyes shifting left to right in the alley, searching the air for clues as to where this is all going, "Well, you keep kissing me so-"
"Another journal, Helga," Arnold grins wider.
The petrified girl looks down at the book grasped in her white knuckles then back up at her true love/worst enemy.
After a tumultuous pause, she manages to croak out, "What?"
"There were quite a few of those books in your closet," This time his eyes stay locked on hers, shy grin lingering, "I... really enjoyed this one and would like to read another. Maybe all of them."
"You've... You've got to be kidding!?" Helga sputters, too discombobulated to function.
'He's kissing you!', Helga's subconscious tries reasoning with her fight or flee mentality, 'He's telling you he liked the smutty things in your journal! Helga, this is a sure thing! Why are you still shrieking inside!?'
"Not kidding at all. I really feel like I'm getting to know the true Helga," Arnold's eyes drop for a moment as he mulls something over, "Look... I know this is a little sudden but... would you like to go out with me sometime?"
Helga's eyes narrow, still trying to find the joke in all this, "What, like on a date?"
"Yeah."
"Right now?"
He shakes his head, "I would but... already promised Gerald I'd help him with his American History project. Put it off twice already. How about... tomorrow night?"
Helga shifts uncomfortably, "Ok?"
"Meet at the bridge in the park at, say, 6 pm? We can get food or see a movie, whatever you want," Arnold seems genuinely nervous asking.
"You're not just messing with me, are you, Football Head? Because I swear-"
"No!" He emphatically shakes his head, "Why would I do that?"
"So... you're serious?"
"Deadly serious."
Helga squints again, "Ok, if you're serious. You got a date, Football Head. Six pm sharp- or else! And no funny business!"
Arnold brightens, "Really? Great!," He leans forward and kisses her on the nose before turning and walking away, "See you then!"
The girl stands stock still, suspicion in her eyes and hope in her heart. "Or else!" She repeats in a quavering, pseudo-menacing tone.
"Got it!" Arnold turns, gives a smile, then jogs off, disappearing down the sidewalk around a corner.
Walking like a broken robot, Helga steps slowly away, clutching her journal to her chest like a life preserver in a churning sea, with a strange sort of grin on her face.
I don't know what just happened but... it was good! It was definitely good!
By the time she makes it back home, her appetite has returned. Ravenous, the girl assembles and takes a fully stacked sandwich to her bedroom.
What do I do first? Call Phoebe? Pick a journal? Go to Arnold's myself and try to make sense of whatever the little nutjob is thinking?
She decides on Pheobe, grabbing the phone from her nightstand and dialing her friend's number.
"Hello?"
"Yo, Pheebs, Have I got a story for you!"
"What's that?"
"I made out with Arnold!"
"Wh-What!? Really?!!"
"Yep," Helga grins proudly, "A few times, actually. In fact, it keeps happening."
"Wow Helga, that's- How did this happen?! You've got to tell me everything!"
The girl flops onto her bed with the sandwich in hand using the journal Arnold took as a plate. A few bites in she looks down, seeing something peeking out from between the pages of the book. Helga flips open the journal and pauses. She drops the sandwich on the bed. It bounces and lands in a heap of deli meats, mayonnaise, lettuce, and bread.
"Helga? You there?"
A small note, the size of the one she left in his room, sits open on the page.
Scribbled in Arnold's familiar handwriting is:
'Helga, I really look forward to getting to know you as well as you've got to know me.
Love, Arnold.'
Helga drops the phone and slides down the bed to the floor, clutching the note.
"Helga!!?" The phone chirps beside her, "What was that scream!?"
She fumbles with the receiver, planting it to her face again, "He said love, Pheobe!!"
"What? So soon!?"
Helga explains the note in a haphazard rush. Phoebe, familiar with frantic Helga explanations, gets the gist.
"Well, saying 'Love' instead of 'Sincerely' is considered an informal letter closure. Although it is a term of endearment, it doesn't necessarily mean romantic interest-"
"I don't care, Phoebe! He said it! It's here on paper! Directed at me! And we're going on a date!! A real date!!!"
- 5
- 6
- 7
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