Summary: There's trouble at home leaving Helga exhausted, but falling asleep at school is never smart, especially if one's book of secret love poems is left open, and definitely when it's the subject of said poems who attempts to wake one up. Inspired by desthpicable's fanart entitled "Oops"

A/N: Okay, so this shouldn't be a terribly long story, I'm guessing it will end up at four to five chapters max. I built it around a fanart I found which proved too cute a notion to pass up: Arnold finally catching a glimpse of Helga's poetry over the sleeping girl's shoulder. It was very easy to imagine how it would play out from that point. It was harder to imagine why on earth Helga would let her guard down enough to let Arnold catch her asleep with her poetry exposed. I finally figured out a way to pull it off that I hope won't be too much of a stretch. That's what this first chapter will be about, explaining why Helga was tired enough to fall asleep in such a possibly 'dangerous' situation. Also, it should be noted that though I am a huge Hey Arnold! fan and grew up on the show, that was a while ago. Remember kiddies, it was a 90s show. I live in the US where it was originally aired too. It hasn't been shown here in years, over a decade. I've seen bits and pieces on youtube since then, but the main point is...I may be a little rusty on my characterizations. Actually, I've never written these characters before. I'll be drawing on childhood memories mostly, and we all know how unreliable those can be. Arnold and Helga should turn out fine, but some of the side characters might be clumsily written. I apologize to Gerald and Phoebe if I get them wrong! Anyhow...enough of my rambling author's note! Let's move on to the next step...disclaimers!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! It belongs to the original creator...who's name I am having difficulty remembering aside from being Craig something. While the actions and reactions surround the story are of my own imaginings, they are derived from the inspiration of the fanart entitled "Oops" created by desthpicable on deviantArt. She also happens to have an account here on , which uses that same username.

Chapter 1: Helga's Hell

It was too quiet that evening as the Pataki family dined. Mother and daughter were seated as a proper family at the table, while Big Bob sat in the next room over, enjoying the comfort of his recliner as he waited for the commercial break to interrupt his viewing of a football game. Normally, he didn't care one way or another to watch commercials; they were just there to fill the space between game plays...or something like that. The exception, of course, was any time his own commercial aired, and when the next break came it would be time for a major exception! Big Bob the Beeper King was eagerly awaiting the airing of his latest advertising effort, a well scripted commercial that of course featured himself but also starred his daughter. Not the girl, Olga, the one that actually mattered.

"So, how was school?" The soft voice from across the table received no reply, not only because of Helga's typically abrasive attitude towards her parents, but even more so because of the absolute shock induced by the very inquiry itself.

"Excuse me?" When at last the young girl spoke, it was loud and incredulous. Had Miriam just acknowledged her? Did someone in this family actually remember that she existed? Her, Helga, the daughter right under their noses and not in some distant college town? There had to be some mistake. Surely her mother had begun to grow delusional and mistaken the pigtailed, unibrow sporting, rough around the edges, younger daughter for her much more beautiful and perfect older sister Olga.

"I asked how school was, Helga." Miriam droned in a drowsy tone, for once trying to speak properly with the girl opposite her.

"You mean me?" Again the tone was laced with disbelief and sarcasm, spoken more loudly than necessary. Helga's unibrow crinkled in the middle as she set down her fork and folded her arms over her chest, "What's with the interrogation all of a sudden, Miriam?"

"Shut up!" Bob's voice ripped into their conversation from the living room as he increased the volume on the television, "The commercials are on! Miriam, come see me and Olga! You too, girl! Get your butt in here!"

Taking her cue, the mother promptly stood like the obedient wife she was expected to be and made her way to the other room without another word, taking what was left of her meal with her. The woman settled into a chair covered in revolting upholstery that was positioned near her husband's much more tasteful recliner and waited for the ad to air.

For her part, the youngest Pataki was just amazed to have even been remembered. Normally her father seemed to forget she was even in the house. But just because he'd called out to her, if you can refer to it as such when he never managed to use her name, didn't mean she had to listen. There was no way Helga planned to sit in front of the TV and watch her sister be pretty and perfect, listening to her parents fawn over how wonderful Olga was while she herself was ignored or insulted. The fork that had been placed on the plate was snatched into her grip violently as she stabbed at her meal with a vengeance, "Stupid, perfect Olga!"

From the other room she could hear the sounds of the ad. Big Bob praising himself as the best in the business, and Olga chirping away about how wonderful her daddy was, and that he was sure to be just as wonderful to you if you came to buy a beeper! So bright and cheery, and a load of bull. This home was anything but happy. Sure, the older sister had a wonderful existence, what with being so great at everything. But Helga was miserable. Lingering in the dining room even when she had eaten her fill, or more likely lost her appetite, she waited until the commercial ended and Bob and finished whooping over how great it was, and how brilliant it had been to use Olga's pretty face to draw in more customers. When he was done patting himself on the back, but while he was still distracted by basking in the glow of a job well done, Helga slipped through the living room and crept to her bedroom in as much silence as she was capable of.

After making certain her bedroom door was securely latched, though she couldn't actually lock it...not that anyone ever bothered to come in anyway, she slipped into her closet and her most recent incarnation of the shrine to Arnold. She needed to talk to someone, and the football head would understand. He was always able to help people, so even though she could not approach the actual boy, she could confide in her recreation. Carefully shutting the closet door behind her, she knelt upon the floor and took the oblong head she had manufactured into her arms to gaze at it lovingly.

"Oh, Arnold...how I wish that I could tell you what is in my heart...my hopes, dreams and fears...I'm forever alone, passed over for perfection that is beyond me, but you could change that, you know. If only you could see the truth of how I feel! But I can't bring myself to show you what you really mean to me." She sighed softly and closed her eyes as she lamented her fate, "It seems lately Miriam has been making at least a little effort...but Big Bob hasn't changed at all. If only you would look my way, Arnold my love, then at least I would know that you cared, even if no one else does."

How stupid was she, pouring all her woes to a representation of a boy who didn't even remember she loved him? She'd told him once, but they'd agreed it was a confession made while caught in the excitement of a moment, and it hadn't been mentioned since. Things had gone back to they way the had always been, and Arnold had seemingly forgotten or dismissed her words of adoration.

It had occurred to her before that perhaps normal girls didn't keep love shrines in their closets, but what was the use of being normal? Normal didn't get her noticed, and eccentricities weren't going to hurt any more than any other option. As Helga replaced her idol in it's proper position and made her way out of the closet she could hear shouting from where her parents were. It wasn't unusual for Big Bob to get upset with the members of his family, the exception of course being Olga, but it was unusual for Miriam to raise her voice in reply.

Climbing into her bed and burrowing deeply beneath her blankets, the youngest Pataki tried to ignore what was being screamed about. For the time being, she had very great success. The hollering was distant and indistinct enough that she could tune out the words. The volume, however, was another story. As the fighting continued, Helga found she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned and squeezed her pillow tight over her ears in an effort to get comfortable while blocking out the noise. But it didn't help. Somehow, the adults managed to keep the shouting up until 3:00 in the morning. That didn't leave a lot of time to sleep before having to get up for school the next morning for poor Helga.

One day with little sleep might have been fine. Helga had dealt with worse situations than a little sleep loss and come out on top. But as one night of fighting between her parents turned to two, things became slightly harder. The day after her second night in a row without enough sleep, people were starting to notice something was a bit off. She was always quick to lash out, but her temper was growing even shorter. Her hair, which had always been styled in its own odd way, was becoming disheveled. It was clear that she was having a harder time than she usually had paying attention in class. One couldn't miss the tell tale bags beginning to form beneath her eyes, either.

Though Phoebe noticed all these signs, they were not what she chose to call Helga out on. Rather, in the privacy of a little used girl's room at the school, Phoebe mentioned the one thing everyone else had failed to notice, "You haven't even spoken to him today..."

"Huh?" The blond girl blinked at her Asian friend in a slightly weary manner. There were lots of boys in this school, couldn't she be more specific?

"You know what I mean, you normally go out of your way to have contact with him...at the very least to drop a nasty comment, or bump into him so you can tell him to watch where he's going." The intelligent girl elaborated without revealing exactly who she was talking about.

"Oh, him..." It was obvious enough to Helga who she meant this time, "Guess I just haven't had a reason to..."

"Why not the same reason as usual?" Phoebe shrugged, not needing further explanation than that. The two girls were best friends. There was no illusion of secrets between them, whether or not it was ever revealed that Helga had a crush on a certain football head, it was inevitable that her smarter than average friend would have figured it out eventually.

"I mean, I didn't have much of a valid excuse today. That's all." The bully rolled her eyes to emphasize that she thought her bestie was being ridiculous.

"There was lunch...you always make something happen there when all else fails. Not to mention how close your lockers are to each other this year." Not yielding, the dark haired girl adjusted her glasses, "Are you alright, Helga? I'm just worried is all."

"I'm fine, Pheebs!" This persistence was growing annoying at a rapid pace. Really, the pigtailed girl just wanted to get home, she wanted the day to be over so that maybe she could actually get a good night's sleep, "Stop bugging me, alright?"

Without waiting for an answer, Helga stormed out of the interrogation and into the hallway, almost immediately running into the football head they had been discussing, "Watch it!"

"You're testy as usual," Arnold muttered, giving her a heated look. He never could understand why Helga insisted on being so mean towards him. Had he ever done anything to deserve her wrath? Sure, she was a bully in general, but he considered himself a nice guy, the kind that would help almost anyone and ask for nothing in return. Maybe that was reason enough for his classmate to make him her primary target.

"Outta my way, Football Head. The sooner I get to class, the sooner I get out of here and away from your stupid face!" As she tried to step around him, Helga wasn't even alert enough to realize she hadn't started to lament her harsh treatment of her beloved.

Narrowing his eyes, Arnold was about to just let Helga through so as to avoid further trouble. Whatever had gotten into her, he didn't want to let it get him into an equally bad mood. Before he stepped aside, however, something told him to give a second glance to the perturbed pre-teen. He hadn't gotten a good look at her all day, he realized with surprise as he saw just how awful she appeared. In fact, this was their first real encounter of the day, which was odd in and of itself, since she usually went out of her way to torment him as much as possible. Now that he'd noticed how terrible she looked, he wasn't going to just let it go, though. He had no intentions of being mean about it, that wasn't his way of handling things. He was more of a kill'em with kindness kind of guy. Besides, he really was kind of worried about her current state, "Are you alright, Helga?"

"Of course I am!" The girl in question snapped, hands on the hips of her rather rumpled jumper, "Why do people keep asking, I'm fine!"

"You look like it's been awhile since you've slept." Her classmate shrugged as he got straight to the point.

"I'm fine." She repeated, finally losing all patience with the fact that she was facing yet another round of questioning and shoving past him rudely, "Stop being so nosey, Arnold-o!"

What little remained of the school day passed without confrontation over her bedraggled appearance, much to Helga's relief. Of course, being Helga, she was unlikely to have no altercations at all, especially with an irritation born from lack of sleep fuelling her. So, she did some shouting and bullying, and hit Brainy in the nose harder than she actually intended to. Though really, it was his own fault she kept punching him in the face. What kind of wheezing idiot would think it was smart to keep sneaking up behind her like that? And how did he manage to be so sneaky with his breathing issues anyway?

Great, now her mind was wandering around weird thoughts concerning sneaky asthmatics. She chalked it up to another sign of exhaustion. Forcefully opening the door, the pigtailed girl stormed up the stairs without greeting her mother, who was speaking on the phone with someone anyway. Her backpack was carelessly flung into a corner of the room before Helga settled on her bed, curling up on top of the covers after having decided that a short nap was more important than homework at that moment. If people were noticing that she was tired, then she couldn't pass up the chance to sleep when she was able.

"Miriam! I'm hungry, where's my dinner?" The bellow from downstairs caused Helga to sit upright in a startled flash. Glancing out the window, the blonde wasn't even sure if she'd managed to fall asleep or not. It was still bright daylight outside. She turned to her alarm clock and frowned. She must have dozed off at some point even though she didn't feel any more rested than before. She'd gotten home somewhere between 3:30 and 4:00, and it was now 4:45. In her personal opinion, it was a little too early for dinner. But when Big Bob wanted something, he wanted instant gratification.

"Olga!" The same bellowing voice surged up to her ears, "Get your tail down here! It's time to eat!"

"I'm Helga!" It had to be the millionth time the pink clad girl had corrected him on this. Actually, it was probably way more than that. With an irritated sigh, she climbed out of bed and tromped down the stairs, past the recliner where her father sat devouring his meat and potatoes while watching the game, and into the dining room. Reasoning that if Big Bob wasn't required to eat with the family then she wasn't either, the youngest Pataki seized her meal and silverware and retreated back to her room without even bothering to acknowledge her mother's latest attempt at conversing.

After eating in the solitude of her room Helga set the plate aside and decided she should at least make an attempt at her homework. Having retrieved her backpack, she dug out a text book to begin, and stared blankly at the page for several minutes. Was this the section they were on? It seemed vaguely familiar, but she had been zoned out during class today so she couldn't be sure. What exactly were the answers to the question supposed to be anyway? With a frustrated groan of defeat, her unibrow crinkled as her head slammed onto the open book.

There wasn't much time to contemplate her failed existence in silence, however. Big Bob had begun to shout at the television, as though the team on the screen would hear him and miraculously turn the course of the game to steer them to victory. Helga scoffed. Fat chance of that tactic working, Big Bob. Maybe his precious Olga could go to the stadium, flirt her way in and inspire the team to victory with her perfection.

Giving up on studying and homework, Helga made her way to her bed instead. She doubted she'd be able to sleep with her father screaming at the TV, but eventually the game would be over, and then maybe her parents would actually take the night off from fighting. So, she laid there, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the possibility of silence. Unfortunately, it was a possibility that wouldn't be realized. The shouts of a fanatic sports fan were replaced by those of a marriage falling apart at the seams. As usual, Helga attempted to tune out the words, even though she couldn't mute the noise. That proved more difficult than usual, however, when she heard the familiar sound of her name.

"Helga!" Miriam was shouting, and at first the girl thought she'd done something to be drawn into the shouting match herself. Then her mother continued to berate her father, "She has a name of her own! It's not girl, it's not Olga, it's Helga!"

"I know she's not Olga, Miriam!" Came the deep and agitated rumble of the Beeper King, "I recognize my own daughter!"

"Do you, Bob?" The question was irate, "Do you even recognize the fact you have more than one daughter?"

"Of course I know the girl is my daughter!" He was beginning to sound exasperated, "It's not like you show her any special treatment either!"

"Helga! She's HELGA! And we should show her special treatment..." Miriam's unusually animated tone trickled into more familiar solemn notes without losing its volume, "She's growing up...and I don't think we're making it any easier."

"What are you talking about!" Helga could almost hear her father roll his eyes at the notion, "We're great parents. Besides, she's only what, six or seven?"

"Bob! She's just starting fifth grade!" Now her mother was slipping into the strangely excited tones that were rather disconcerting to anyone familiar with how she usually sounded, "So try more like ten or eleven. And great parents don't forget they have a second child!"

There was a short silence as Bob obviously tried to think of an intelligent argument against his wife's logic. Something that didn't involve being reminded of his younger daughter's existence because she cost him so much in food and clothing would probably be preferable. During this lapse in the fighting, the subject of their debate was reclining propped upon her elbows in bed, shocked at the vehemence with which her mother was fighting for her. When did Miriam start standing up to her husband? When did she suddenly realize she had a second daughter? What on earth had caused her parents to suddenly start feuding over her to begin with?

When Bob evidently failed to find a retort, Miriam decided to continue speaking, "People are worrying over her. I've gotten phone calls from her new teacher. And from a old man saying his grandson was in her class."

If her mother elaborated on what the calls had actually been about, Helga didn't hear it. The arguments continued as a humming buzz in the background as her mind tried to wrap itself around one notion. She could think of a single boy in her class who lived with his grandparents. But there was no way he'd ask his grandfather to call her house to check and make sure she was okay, right? It was impossible!

Whether the fight lasted the rest of the night or not, it would have made little difference. For Helga, it wouldn't matter if shouting or silence ruled the house. Sleep was impossible. Her mind was too busy. Old man saying his grandson was in her class...Arnold lived with his grandparents and was in her class. Was it Arnold's grandfather who had called? Of course, any of the boys in her class could have asked their grandfathers to place the call...but why would they do that if their parents could call instead? It had to be Arnold. But that was wishful thinking.

Sleep must have crept over her at some point during the night, because the next morning she was jerked awake by her alarm. The preteen mumbled incoherently under her breath as she dragged herself from the comforting embrace of her blankets and began to get ready for the day.

However much sleep she had been allowed, it wasn't enough to make up for what she had lost over the course of her parents new nightly hobby, three nights straight of shouting matches, and most recently about her. As she descended the stairs for a hasty breakfast she was still swaying slightly upon her feet. Her entire body felt heavy, like someone had carved her from lead, or filled her with magnets that were drawn to the floor.

Entering the kitchen she went about grabbing her usual quick meal of toast with butter and jam. It took a bit longer to prepare than cereal, but was able to be eaten more quickly, and could be taken along as she traveled to the bus stop. It was a bit surprising to see Miriam waiting for her, leaning against the kitchen counter as she nursed a large cup of coffee, but Helga tried to brush it off as just a weird moment in life. That worked well enough until she had finished preparing her toast and was about to hurry off to the bus stop as fast as her tired legs could go.

Suddenly Miriam shocked the girl into stillness by addressing her, "I can give you a ride, Helga."

After a moment of processing, the youngest Pataki manage to format a reply, "That's alright, Miriam. I'd rather take the bus."

Legs of lead moved faster than she would have thought possible to get her away from that house. The only thing worse than being virtually ignored by her parents was being suddenly acknowledged! She didn't slow until she reached the bus stop and flopped onto the waiting bench, more exhausted than she had been when she woke.

Though she usually timed things just right so that she could arrive only a few short minutes before the bus, she had somehow managed to get her tired body there earlier than expected. It was a ten minute wait as the area surrounding the bench slowly filled with other students on their way to school. The chatter that seeped from the crowd seemed far louder than necessary to ears fueled by an exhausted brain, and it only got worse when the bus finally arrived and the jabbering idiots were crammed in like sardines. Helga offered a groan of anguish, and automatically headed to the back, plopping herself into the last seat without looking.

"Still not sleeping, Helga?" The familiar voice almost made her jump out of her skin as the girl in question whirled to face the concerned boy who had spoken, "You look even more tired than yesterday."

"I'm sleeping just fine, Football Head!" Helga snapped back, turning so that her legs stuck into the aisle, which allowed her to present her back to her love.

"No, you aren't." Arnold shrugged as he spoke, looking out the window since she wasn't even going to face him, "Grandpa Phil talked to your mom yesterday. He told me she seemed to know exactly why you weren't sleeping, even though she didn't say so."

It was so hard to not whip around and face the stupid, wonderful boy behind her as he confirmed her suspicions from the night before. Her eyes had widened instantly in surprise at his having admitted it so easily, but she was quick to contort her face into its usual scowl before slowly glaring over her shoulder at her beloved, "I said I'm fine! I don't need you or your grandpa checking up on me, so leave me alone!"

A worried frown creased the features that adorned his handsome football shaped head as Arnold regarded Helga carefully. He hadn't failed to notice the brief pause before she responded. But, since he was sure she disliked him after all her bullying, he chalked it up to her taking a moment to calm down so as not to react even more harshly. With this in mind, he shook his oblong head, "Alright. I was only trying to help..."

"Well, don't! I don't need help from a football headed freak like you!" As she spat the offensive words, she turned into the aisle once more, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest. Her heart was racing. Her mind, fogged by lack of sleep, was still trying to decide if Arnold had actually admitted to having his grandfather call her house or if it was a hallucination caused by sleep deprivation. She didn't dare to glance back and see how Arnold had taking her vicious insult, but she could feel the few moments that his stare lingered on the back of her head before he went back to looking out the window.

It wasn't long before the bus let them out into the comparatively spacious school grounds. Even if they had to go from the lawn directly into the building, it was still a vast improvement to the sardine can bus. Actually, they had around ten or fifteen minutes before homeroom, enough time to linger in the yard a moment if they wanted to. Helga didn't want to. She desperately wanted to be alone.

Hurrying into the building, she took the shortest route to the one place in the school she was sure no one would be at that time. As expected, the library was deserted, quiet and filled with just enough sunlight from the window to let you see what you were working on. It was the perfect place to get away from the rest of the students, especially a certain football head, and take part in her favorite secret pastime. Actually it was probably her second favorite secret pastime, after collecting items for her Arnold shrine. Either way, she now had the solitude to write in her poetry book. She owed him a ballad at the very least for the concern he'd shown, and to make up for the cruel way she'd treated him in return.

Retrieving the notebook from the most secret pocket in her backpack, she set it on the table she had taken a seat at. A pen was pulled from her pencil bag before she flipped open the book to the first blank page. Her eyes skimmed over the back of the previous page, which contained the most recent poetic entry, then settled on the crisp, clean, white page that she would carve her feelings onto. After a moment to collect her thoughts and emotions in order to properly channel them into the pen she began to write. Words flowed freely for a brief period before she paused.

Heavy lids blinked as she tried to maintain her focus. Shaking her head to clear her slowly blurring vision, Helga scolded herself for growing tired in the middle of her craft. If she stopped now, she would lose the flow of her words! Pen to paper, she etched out another line, then two, before her lids drooped once more. Setting down the pen momentarily, she rubbed at her weary eyes.

"Okay, I'll just rest a minute." She muttered, leaning her head down on the table and placing her hand on the book to keep the page from turning, "I can keep myself from falling asleep and rest my eyes long enough to be able to focus, no risk there."

Time ticked by and she continued to rest. She never moved, not even when the bell for homeroom sounded.