A simple 'boy falls for a girl,' but that girl happens to be Helga G. Pataki, so it probably won't be so simple.

Helga, Arnold and company are about seventeen here.

"As always, class, I loved all the assignments turned in for poetry week, but I would love it if one excellent writer I've gotten to know over the year would read hers. Helga?"

"Me?"

Whispers and snickers fill the room. Her peers can't fathom what the typically scowling athlete would write.

The teacher claps her hands, and the mumbles cease. "Helga."

Helga fidgets with her hands. "Why? It's just my thoughts, not much of a poem." Her eyes round some "It doesn't even rhyme. Can you pick someone else?"

"Nonsense, you haven't read anything all year. I think this is the perfect opportunity, but if you rather not I could read it for you."

Helga considers it but then shakes her head, if her writing had to be heard, she rather it comes out of her mouth. "Oh, alright." She grumbles and strolls to the front of the class, flashing a bone chilling glare before softly sighing.

"When I look in the mirror I am reminded of the unattractive aspects of my life, my insecurities, my tempestuous nature. It almost never wears off. You can see it pent up in the dark circles of my eyes. You can feel it in the brittleness of my hair and the dryness of my skin. There's a bitter taste in my mouth now. So if you want to know why I don't have anything nice to say, that's probably why. My inner pain I can't hide. My face with its transparent and lack of pigment; you'd think I was a ghost because of the dullness of my complexion some days. I can't do anything except just flow with it all because it shows in my reflection. But you. Unlike me, are caught in delusions; sunk deep in denial. You're so eager to remind me of how ugly I can be, but have you seen your reflection? As the saying goes, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. The reflection you see in the mirror is just a reflection of me."

Her fingers unintentionally fold up the paper. The bell rings, Helga beelines to her desk.

"I like what you read." She feels and hears him whisper close to her ear.

His breath faintly on her skin gives her trembles, but she wipes off any indication of that. "It was depressing; see how fast I cleared the room."

"That's because the period is over, Helga."

"It made me sound like a weakling," She says through a tight jaw and fakes a pleasant expression at their instructor. But then she retrieves her blase look once in the hall.

Arnold trails behind her, shrugging his shoulders. "I disagree, I think it made you sound ... honest. A weak person wouldn't express something so personal."

Her intense eyes peek over her shoulder. "Ah, who asked for your opinion, football head." She dodges a couple displaying too much PDA. "It wasn't even my best work," Her pace slows down enough to allow him to catch up. "Nowhere near. I know that we're required to read at least two of our poems but why did she have to choose me this time?" Arnold opens his mouth to respond, but Helga brings a finger near his face. "That was a rhetorical question. But then again," She hits her palm with her fist. "It's my fault for turning it in, in the first freaking place."

Even with her being on the harsh side, he can't force down the corners of his mouth at the fact that she is talking this much to him. "So do you write often? I mean for non-assignment reasons."

"What's it to you -" She gives him a swift smug once-over. "Don't you have some prissy girl to chase after?"

He looks down sheepishly grinning. "Not anymore..." His gaze jumps ahead of her. "Where are you heading?"

Helga froze for a second then eases on her way. "That's none of your business; so slug off Buttinski."

Ignoring what she said, he quick steps and is now walking backward in front of her. "Wait. You have lunch next period right?" She nods, but it looks like a mix of that and a shrug. "Will you sit with me so we can, I don't know," He pauses. "Catch up."

"Isn't that what we're doing right now?"

"You know what I mean."

She pulls her bag strap back on her shoulder and sucks her teeth. "Do I?"

"We haven't talked much this year."

"Or any year…"

Arnold frowns at her. "That isn't true. " Helga deadpans, and he sighs. "Not entirely."

She nibbles on her lip appearing to be legitimately considering his offer. "No thanks, maybe some other time. I'm not going to the cafeteria, today or this whole week." She pushes through the crowds down the hall. Sliding his hands into his pockets, his eyes narrow as he watches her.

It's the beginning of the summer several months earlier, Arnold, on a Saturday morning, is in a community college auditorium. "Helga?" Arnold whispers, squinting as he struggles to uncover if the girl he sees moving with such grace is a Pataki.

He tries to force his eyes off her and stick to his girl, but it was a difficult task. He face-palms and peeks out through his fingers. "I have this incredible girlfriend, and I'm watching Helga Pataki? What the heck is wrong with me?" He nearly shrieks but covers his mouth. It wasn't about looks because Helga had long grown into her somewhat bold features. And Arnold accidentally admitted around junior high that he thought Helga was a very cute girl, physically speaking. And it wasn't even her feisty attitude, which he'd grown to accept and respect. No, it's her hot temper always aimed his way for no clear reasons. He could never get out more than a few words at a time with her. But in those moments where she did let her guard down, he always found himself enjoying it. Then in the very next interaction, she was back to pushing him away. It frustrates and confuses him like crazy, and eventually, he stopped trying. Even following grand events of San Lorenzo; where she came to his rescue. As the years passed, she stayed an eternal mystery, and he let her.

At present, every Saturday since that first rehearsal he watched, Arnold's been sneaking in the back, sitting quietly and observing. The only lights in the room are on stage, so it was easy for him to stay unseen by the whole group.

Again he intends on keeping an eye on one girl; another one undeniably stole his breath away with her every glide.

Weeks later, he maintains the same routine. While sneaking backstage, he shakes off thoughts of a blonde. Instead, he focuses on a raven-haired girl standing at a distance. Sloane Peppers approaches him. He kisses her, but she halfheartedly response. Her eyes sink. "Arnold, we need to talk."

His stomach drops. "That doesn't sound pleasant," He leans heavily on the side of his body. "But okay, go on."

"I don't think this is working."

His face slowly scrunches up. "What?"

"Don't misunderstand. You're a great guy, a real gentleman. I couldn't have asked for a better nine months, but. I can tell your heart really in this anymore." she melds her lips together. "At first, I was angry and saddened with that nagging feeling, but as time went on, I had to be completely honest with myself. I realized I hadn't been completely in this either, at least not lately."

"So you're saying it's over?"

"Yes, I think it's for the best." Lightly she taps his chest. "I can get a ride from one of the girls, Arnold." Then her mouth comes to his cheek, and she backs off.

He stands there for minutes after she's gone, stunned. It takes him a while, but eventually, he leaves.

(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)

Gerald holds out his hand blocking Arnold from going inside. "Arnold, why are still sitting in on those lessons? You and Sloane have been history for what a month and some change. I know you were gaga over her but face it, it's over. So why are you still stalking her?"

Arnold sucks his teeth, and his eyes are on the verge of glaring. "I'm stalking no one. And who said I was here for her." He huffs when this particular ex, walked out on the stage. "I could just enjoy ballet."

Gerald chuckles. "Whatever you say. I don't see how you can sit in these dry rehearsals week after week. But for me? I'm out. I'm always falling asleep in these things."

"No problem, I didn't expect you to stay..." He scratches his head. "I'd rather if you leave." He mumbles under his breath.

Gerald squints. "What was that?"

Arnold looks over sheepishly. "Oh, nothing, I'll call you later."

Taking some steps back, Gerald gives a suspicious glance but ultimately lets it roll off. "Cool."

Arnold waits until his best friend is totally gone then with voices coming from the stage he crunches lower in the chair. Initially, following the breakup, he told himself that he was doing this because he wanted her back. But slowly he started to give in to the relief he felt at now being single.

The music starts instantly, and the girls begin to dance. Like every practice, every girl leaves once it's over except one. She fakes leaving and then enters back always turning on a beautiful instrumental. She glides on the balls of her feet like a real gem in between perfecting every move.

Arnold dips lower and prays that the dark cast in the auditorium keeps him hidden. Even in his fear of being found out, he couldn't stop beaming at the once again seeing this incredibly delicate side of Helga. Her attire reveals what her school threads don't; which is a sleek, sculpted hourglass figure. But for the most part, his eyes always remain on her face. Particularly her eyes, the best he can. The look in them he finds so intoxicating and intriguing; how softened, sweet and alive as they always are whenever she dances.

He learns this habit of hers for staying later to practice even longer than everyone else. During practices, Helga was a standout, complimented on her so called ideal dancer's body and technic. It appeared that some of the others looked up to her. And yet, it seemed that Helga always saw her flaws and how she could improve. She never seemed to feel truly content with her abilities and always maintained a level of humility. But that desire to be greater elevated how hard she worked and made her appear even more sensational.

In awe of her, Arnold dreamily shakes his head. Not taking an eye off her to blink, he knows in his soul that he's gotten to know Helga through these viewings better than in any conversation. "I still can't get over this is the same girl who throws daggers left and right. And can out-pitch anyone on the softball field." Even that side of her after years of being in her presence he has grown to deeply respect, slowly admire than subconsciously gained real feelings.

But it wasn't until while dating someone else and sneaking into her rehearsals that his suppressed feelings for Helga surfaced.

He lifts out of the spell when the music cuts off. Like always Helga does her signature cocky strut off the stage, and Arnold is left with a vastly thumping heart "I wish I had the guts to-"

"Hey!"

"What?"

He rolls his eyes at a jock rudely shoving him. "Stay outta the way!" Skimming around the vapid hall, he profusely shakes his head. All this time later and I'm still here wishing I had the guts.

Her pen in between her fingers, tapping her chin, she looks upward, thinking of a pair of incredible emerald eyes.

I catch your eye then look away as if it never happened. And in my mind, it didn't. At times I feel trapped in a strange dream. If eyes could talk what would, yours say? If I stare too long, mine would undoubtedly reveal that every day I end up falling for you.

She stares at her words on the page until frustration invades her introspective moment.

Scribbling frantically on the paper, she growls. "Why can't I ever just forget you?!"

A soft knock pulls her out of that. "Helga? Are you dressed yet we have to leave."

She puffs out a breath. "Hold your horses I'm coming!" Jumping off the bed, she jogs into Phoebe's closet to change out of her robe slip into her dress.

A ravishing blonde and a charming brunette waltz in the decorated room. The two ladies had been there no more than a couple of minutes, and Helga is already scuffing. Three guys Helga sickening dispised walk by and obnoxiously check her out. They, like most of her classmates, are used to seeing her in athletic gear or jeans and plain t-shirts, never anything so fancy.

"Can you believe this place Pheebs?" She turns her lip up at her peers. "I mean, get a load of all these dorks thinking they're cool." Her razor sharp eyes scan the room only stopping on a particular person.

Phoebe aside her giggles at her noticeable mood change. "See something you like while browsing?"

"Sure..." Her lip quivers greatly, but she manages to wipe off any showings of her desires. "I found the biggest dope of them all!"

Phoebe folds her arms. "Is that so?" Helga's eyes roll at her sarcastic tone. "So those are the types of boys that make you swoon like a loon?"

Swoon like a loon? She repeats in her mind. The girls' been around me way too long. Helga blinks a few times to snap herself out of it and sees Phoebe's curling lip. "Oh shut up!"

Phoebe adjusts her glasses while getting a kick out of Helga's annoyed outburst.

Helga turns to face the opposite direction; having no clue that this gives someone a better view of her but also more courage to admire her without fear of being caught.

Blond and African-American teen boys stand by the punch bowl 'digging' the scene. Gerald tugs his eyes off a delicate beauty in turquoise and catches his buddy looking in the same direction. He knew he wasn't staring at Phoebe, but then he notices who is right to beside her and rolls his eyes.

But Arnold is too busy inhaling shapely legs, a tiny waist, and sculpted feminine shoulders. All the way up to bright, electrifying eyes, soft lips and silky hair.

Arnold's features scrunch up at an elbow to his side. He looks at Gerald questioningly.

"All these lovelies in the midst and you're staring at Helga G. Pataki?" he shakes his head. "Have you lost your mind?"

"No," Arnold can't peel his eyes off this girl in pink who even from the back view he knows is wearing a glare. "Quite the contrary, Gerald." The corners of his mouth rise. "I think I've finally come to my senses..." He turns his face a bit when it appears that she would catch him staring. "Don't you think she looks extra gorgeous tonight?" He doesn't even look to see the gagging gesture he did in response to that question. "Well, I do. That color has always been perfect for her; she's a total knockout. But anyway, beyond her looks she has something in her that other girls I've meet haven't been able to match."

"Yeah, her iron fists." Gerald jokes.

Arnold laughs a bit sarcastically, but the glazed over look on him is still intact. The corners of his mouth turn up more. "I would love the opportunity to get to know what that 'something' really is because I can tell already that she has a beauty that radiants from her heart. She's just picky of who she shares that with and I'm hoping one day I'll be one of those people. You know what kind of girl Helga is? She's like," He glances up. "For example, if an unspecified creature pops up," Gerald quirks a brow. "She'll do whatever it takes to survive and get away from its grasp. Helga will put up a hell of a fight, but she'll also do a lot to avoid hurting it if that's possible."

"Arnold," He takes his cup out of his hand. "I think you've had enough punch."

Cracking a grin he nods. "My point is, just don't get in her path or stop her pursuits. While she might be a little brash to get you out of her way, she'll never harm you. Helga's a thoughtful, caring person under all that steam. But to avoid getting hurt herself, she shields that side thoroughly; I understand that and also respect it. That's the kind of person Helga has to be. And if she ever decides to share all of herself with me, I think ... no, I know I want her by my side."

"Okay," He states shakily. "so you like her."

Arnold finally casts his gaze to Gerald. "I think it's gone beyond that."

Gerald sucks in a breath and looks away. "You never can take the easy route." He begins to grin. "That description you gave makes sense because aside from Brainy you never see her hit anyone." He steps back and snickers. "Okay, now if you want Pataki, what are you going to do now to get her?"

"Huh?" Arnold raises his brows.

"If she is as unique as you claim, there is a chance that someone else sees it too. Someone braver who will actually, act on it and perhaps win her heart. What would you do then?" he whispers firmly.

"I don't know…" His brows bunch up. "I hadn't thought about other guy's pursuing her." His forehead crinkles more. "I've tried to ask her out, but nothing's worked. Or maybe I haven't done enough in fear of rejection or something. I hadn't planned anything for tonight." his eyes widened. Not that he didn't think Helga could get a date, but he so rarely saw her give any member of the opposite sex the time of day.

"Well, you should because anything can go down at one of these parties. Like I said, someone out there might see it too. Someone much braver and who doesn't have a football head." Arnold glares at that. "Aye, I'm just keeping it real with you."

Gerald must have put something in the air because they both see an unknown fellow approaching Helga. Not just talking to her but doing the unthinkable. Is she - laughing? He zones out and tuning out the rest of Gerald's words. His eyes stroll over to her again. The display stings his insides, and his vision becomes cloudy.

"See what I mean?" Gerald taps his shoulder and breaks through the beginnings of a daydream "But don't sweat it, captain. Just look at it as a challenge to step up your game."

After a few seconds, Arnold smiles. "I don't need game..."

He watches the guy move to Helga's other side. But his hooded eye gaze falls on Helga's beautiful face returning to its bored state. "I have something more of substance on my side." His eyes twinkle as he leaves Gerald's company begins to make his rounds and mingle.