Summary: Arnold and Helga are just beginning a relationship, but hit some rocks. They both are on a trip in Paris hoping to find some common ground with each other, and maybe go a step further. All plans crash when Arnold sees Cecile again. Jealousy, rage, and mixed emotions. Helga decides to get back at Arnold and does something she never intended to do…
Rating: PG-13 for language, adult situations, and sexual tendencies.
A/N: beware! There is some french in here. And I am so sorry if the french is wrong. I went to a translator to get these complete sentences…and, well…I don't think it was all that great. So I'd love to get comments on the french. I just thought I'd throw this idea out there. Hope you'll R/R…and yeah. Hopefully I can get some longer chapters with more details.
Chapter One: Oui, Oui
"You know what, Arnold? I really don't know why you're getting so worked up over one stupid card deck!" snarled Helga.
"It was not some stupid card deck! It was my card deck! And you lost them!" he snapped back.
"I did not lose them! I just…ugh! Does it really matter, Football head? Does it? I'll buy you a new deck of cards when we land! Okay?"
"Fine." He crossed his arms across his chest.
"Fine!" Helga looked away.
"Stupid little…" he muttered under his breath.
"What did you just say?" she snapped.
"Nothing."
"Ugh…"
Helga and Arnold were going on a trip to Paris for the summer with their French teacher, Mr. Van Dam. They wanted to go because they were friends. Plus, they had won a contest for an all expense paid trip to Paris for the summer. They had been getting so friendly with each other, working their way up to being a couple. But lately, it seems like they've done nothing but gotten on each other's nerves.
I suppose nothing lasts forever.
Sure they cared for each other…but they had their differences. Sometimes they couldn't seem to agree. The two of them did nearly everything together ever since Gerald moved away and Phoebe moved back to Kentuky. Helga and Arnold. Just the way things were.
"Please, you two, be quiet!" order Mr. Van Dam. "This is an airplane, not a school playground. If you two don't stop your arguing I will put you both on the plane back to Brooklyn!"
"Sorry," the two of them said in unison.
This was going to be one long plane ride to Paris.
"Are you excited?" wondered Helga.
"Yeah. I can't wait to see Cécile. It's been such a long time," he sighed. "I'm still finding it hard to believe that I'm actually going to Paris to see her."
"Yeah. She's one hell of a girl," mumbled Helga.
"And you?"
"I'm hoping to get a full cultural experience," she chuckled.
"Seriously!"
"Okay…seriously. This is going to sound so stupid," she began, "but I'm hoping to find some romance in Paris. You know? Like in the movies…" blood rushed to her cheeks.
Arnold gave her a blank stare. "And you're serious about this?"
Helga glanced at him quickly. "Yes. I am." I'm actually hoping to get to kiss you on this vacation, if you want to know the truth. I'm hoping to get our friendship to the next level.
He nodded slowly, as if he understood. In a way, he did understand. He really did like Helga a lot. And he really did want to be with her the whole time and slowly be more than just a friend, but he still couldn't take his mind off Cécile. How she would be…and if he would actually be able to get involved with her.
That would be amazing. A once in a life time sort of thing. Not everyone goes to France and gets a girlfriend.
A couple of hours later, Arnold was watching the in-flight movie, nearly falling asleep, and crunching on a Kit-Kat bar. Helga didn't feel like watching a movie. Instead she read her book, P is for Passion. In the most exciting part, Jean-Claude had been taken away from Bridgette the day after they first embraced in each other. She was crying, and almost close to commiting suicide because she knew that Jean-Claude wouldn't be able to come out alive. It was a real page-turner. Helga was eagerly biting her nails, turning the pages…will love truly conquer all?
Arnold glanced over at her to see her face buried within the pages of the book. Her eyes so wide and magnifying…He couldn't take his eyes off her. It never occurred to him before now that Helga had really changed since the 4th grade. Her hair was always down, or in a pony-tail…never again in pigtails. Her complexion reminded him of milk…so soft and creamy. If he could only touch her cheek, pull her into his arms and kiss her.
But he couldn't. He put himself on a look, but no touch policy. It was so hard for him to abide by his own rules. He often found himself sniffing her hair when she was not paying attention to him.
Bridgette, disguised as a soldier, walked into the halls of the prison. Dark, mucky corridors which sent chills down her spine. Then, her heart skipped a beat to see her beloved Jean-Claude sitting in a chamber, shivering…with barely any clothes on. She clutched on to the bars and from her lips, she uttered words only they could understand. 'Jean-Claude,' she mumbled, 'it's me… Bridgette…' Jean-Claude looked up from the floor. He slowly got up and limped to the dark-faced soldier standing on the other side of the bars. His fingers extended to her cheeks. He felt the warmth, the silkiness of her cheeks. 'Bridgette,' he said happily, 'it is you…'
Just then, Arnold took the book from her hands. "P is for Passion?" he snorted.
"Hey!" snapped Helga. "that's MY book!"
"Let's just see," he flipped the pages of the book, " 'and with all her might, she slapped him across the face…how could he? It was like she'd been run over by a truck…her own Jean-Claude, lying to her?'"
Helga's jaw dropped. "You idiot!" Helga cursed and took the back from him. "you ruined it for me! Completely!" She began to smack him with her thick 250-paged book.
"Hey, ouch!" he whined, "stop!"
The people around them stared.
"vous êtes un idiot, vous savez cela?" mumbled Helga. (1)
Arnold groaned. "Je ne suis pas un idiot," he replied.
"Oui vous êtes," she snapped back.
"Cessez de discuter!" ordered Mr. Van Dam. "S'il vous plait…"
"Désolé," the two of them said together.
Mr. Van Dam shook his head and began talking to himself in French. The only words Helga and Arnold caught were "stupid kids," and "why me?" the rest were French cuss words they didn't know.
After the chicken dinner, Helga and Arnold gradually fell asleep.
"Attention all passengers, we will be landing shortly, so please fasten your seat belts until the sign is off…. Attention tous les passagers, nous débarquerons sous peu, satisfaisons ainsi attachons vos ceintures de sécurité jusqu'à ce que le signe soit éteint."
Helga yawned and stretched out her arms, hitting Arnold on top of his head "accidentally". Arnold groaned. "What time is it?" he wondered.
"In France or what?" Helga replied.
"I don't care…"
"In France, it's noon."
"When will we be landing?"
"Shortly." She took out a compact mirror from her backpack and looked at herself. Bleh. She took out some lipstick and blush and applied it on her face. Much better…now she had a rosier complexion. It wasn't her fault that the plane was so cold and the blankets were so thin that she lost the blood in her cheeks.
Helga stared out the window and saw land. Brown and green patches which slowly turned into little forming cities, and then to buildings and houses. After a 12 hour trip, they were finally in Paris.
"Bonjour! Et accueillez en France, nous vous espèrent apprécient votre sejour. Restez svp assis jusqu'à ce que nous fassions un point. Merci." Pause. "Hello! And welcome to France, we hope you enjoy your stay. Please stay seated until we make a full stop. Thank you."
Helga unbuckled her seat belt and sighed.
***
After Arnold, Helga, and Mr. Van Dam got all their luggage, they got on a cab to their hotel. It was funny to them how they were driving on the left side of the road. Constantly, Arnold felt panicked and wanted to scream out "we're on the wrong side of the road!" but he didn't. The cab driver smelled funny. His hair was ashy and he looked buff.
They stopped in front of the hotel. It looked like a five-star hotel. The outside was so beautiful, with flowers planted in a neat display. The windows were so clean and sparkly. The revolving door was also really pretty.
Inside was even better than outside. There were velvet couches and the front desk was made of marble. Mr. Van Dam went to get the room keys while Helga and Arnold absorbed the scenery.
"You two are sharing room 103," said Mr. Van Dam, giving them two golden keys. "And I will be in room 115. Have fun, and if you have any problems, please see me. Otherwise, I will be staying for a week and then be off to see my family. Okay?"
"Okay." They both said, watching Mr. Van Dam scatter up the stairs with his luggage.
"Come on, Helga, let's go get settled," said Arnold. She nodded and they walked to the elevator. It was crazy, really. Each of them were holding three large suitcases full of clothes and junk along with a backpack.
Arnold wiggled the key irritably in the lock. When he managed to open the door, he was amazed at the space of their room. Two beds about ten feet from each other, both nicely kept with blue sheets. There was a huge window over-looking Paris, a TV, a large white bathroom with a bathtub and shower, and two closets.
"Oh my…" said Helga under her breath. Her hand was placed on her chest. "This is huge."
"You're telling me." They dropped their luggage in the middle of the room on top of the white carpet.
"Okay, first of all, let's put down some ground rules to make our lives a little easier," stated Helga clearly, with a pad of paper in her hand and a pen in the other. "Rule number one: If there is an argument between the two of us, one of us must either shut up or leave the room."
Arnold nodded, "okay. Rule number two: we do not order new and 'exciting' exotic foreign foods like escargots from room service."
"Agreed. Rule number trois: Do not bring anyone else into the room, unless both parties are aware of you doing so…"
"But if you do bring someone in," interjected Arnold, "do no more than just talk."
"And rule number four: If you lose your temper, or break any of the rules, you must give to the money jar." Helga took out a glass jar from her bag and put it on the circular coffee table. "Alright, now sign at the bottom of the paper."
Arnold read over the rules and signed at the bottom of the paper with the blue pen. Then Helga signed it as well. She taped it on the wall next to the TV.
"I want the bed next to the window!" said Arnold, jumping on the bed. The other bed was on the other side of the room. It's like they knew that Arnold and Helga weren't sleeping with each other.
"Don't get too excited, Arnoldo."
"Hey, Helga, are you hungry?"
Helga thought for a second. "Yeah, actually I am pretty hungry."
"Then let's go out for lunch. My treat," he grinned, pulling out some Euros from his pocket.
"Alright, Mr. Rockefellar. Let's go."
***
The streets were rocky and all the buildings looked older than their grandparents. It was really pretty though. It had a nice medieval touch, and the atmosphere was like it had just finished raining. You know, that one smell and feel after it rains…Everyone on the streets were all happy, and minding their own business. There were people sitting on the streets selling paintings, giving free tattoos, and doing funny little acts.
"Yeah, I'll be getting one of those tattoos before we leave," said Arnold jokingly.
"Sure, you just keep thinking that."
They walked into a pizza place and were seated in a booth. It was funny how the French made better Italian food than the Italians. The menu was in English and French but Helga and Arnold just read the French side.They had fun putting their French to the test. But as far as they were concerned, as long as they ordered something without the words "escargot", they would be fine.
"Hey, Arnold…what are oignons?"
"Um, I think onions."
"Oh."
"What is moutard?"
"Mustard…"
"Ew, spaghetti with mustard?!" Arnold stuck out his tongue in disgust.
"Excuse moi," said the waiter. "Are you two ready to order?" he said it in a French accent.
"Um, yes…can I have the Sausage and Onion pizza?" said Helga.
"Oui, and you Monsier?"
"The, uh, spaghetti with meatballs s'il vous plait."
"Thank you." He took the menus from them and left.
"So, Helga," began Arnold.
"So, Arnold," she repeated.
"When we get bored of Paris, let's go backpacking through all of Europe."
"Backpacking?"
"Well, sure. Just stay at cheap motels…make-out on the springy matresses…stick a pillow under your shirt to pretend you're pregnant so we can hitch hike around the place…"
Helga laughed. But, wait, did he just say 'make-out'? By the look on his face, he did realize that he said 'make-out'. She knew him too well…he would pretend he didn't say it, hoping she thought she had said it. "hitch-hike, eh?"
"Yeah. That's the beauty of it all."
"How about we just stay here, and take the train around?"
Arnold nodded slowly. "Sounds good too."
Helga shook her head in a 'he's so stupid' kind of way and continued laughing with him.
"Think about it: Just you and me…in Italy. Yeah, in Italy…we'll ride on Gondalas and have smelly italians sing to us while they smoke and give us a ride. Then we can feed the birds…"
"Feed
the birds?" Helga could picture the birds all being so kind to him, all
gathering on his shoulders and head. Then they'd bite her…
"Yeah. The birds."
"What else do you have in mind?"
"We can also go to London and try to make one of those palace guards laugh, or move, or something!"
Helga laughed even more. "you're so stupid…"
"But hear me out. Afterwards we can stroll around the streets…take pictures in front of Big Ben."
"Very sweet…"
"And get some free food if you'd put a pillow under your shirt." He winked.
Helga rolled her eyes. Then their food came. Steaming hot. Arnold took a fork and stuck it into his spaghetti, rolling it around eagerly. He lifted up his fork with a big ball of red noodles tangled around it and stuck it in his mouth. A second later, he opened his mouth slightly, fanning it with his hand.
"So hot, hot!" he mumbled with the food in his mouth. He took the cup of water and poured it in with his food, gulping it down. "Man, that's good," he coughed.
"How am I supposed to be seen in public with you?" she laughed. "You don't even know how to eat right."
"I eat fine!" he pulled out a noodle with his fingers and slurped it down.
"You just keep thinking that…"
A/N:
(1) :
You're an idiot, you know that?
I am not!
Yes you are…
Don't forget to R/r! Um, I know I have a couple of spelling errors…(very minor) but…you know…oh well.