Little Known Ways to Satisfaction - Chapter Eight

"We have to get the Corazon back to the temple to stop all of this," Arnold declared.

"Newsflash, Football Head: the temple is surrounded by lava!" Helga exasperated.

"There must be some way..." He groaned, looking atound for a sign of hope. The mountain was mostly bare, and the small amount of resources they could use was evaporating or melting as the molten rock approached.

Suddenly, a loud flapping noise echoed above their heads. It was a helicopter. A rope ladder rolled out the door with a figure holding onto it. It was Eduardo.

"Need some help, kids?" He asked.

"Eduardo!"

"This tastes really great, Mrs. Shortman," Helga complimented politely as she served herself a spoonful of couscous. Everyone at the boarding house were sat around the dining table. The boarders were chatting amongst themselves, Grandma was in a cowboy outfit as she twirled a lasso in the air to trap Oskar, Miles was scarfing down his wife's food, Stella was serving them, and Phil was squinting his eyes at Helga. It was strane.

"Thank you, Helga," The older woman thanked as she sat down at the table, "A Magrhebi village woman taught me how to make it when Miles and I were on a mission years ago. Very nice woman. Her name was Peli."

"Oh, I remember when you two left for that trip!" Phil exclaimed, tearing his eyes away from the girl, "That was the year when Pookie and I tried to kick Oskar out because he stole my pigs in the blanket."

"Oh, Grandpa, that was such a long time ago. We should let the past go, yeah?" Oskar groaned.

"Oskar," Suzie shushed as she fed her baby.

"I am not surprised you were a pain in the neck since before, Kokoshka!" Ernie bellowed.

"Ernie, don't be rude," His wife chastised.

"Yes, dear," said the blocky man almost instantly.

"Bah! What a wuss!" Mr. Hyunh laughed.

"Oh, Eleanor, it's been so long since I last saw you," Gertie greeted, ignoring the dynamic as she fixed her Native-American headpiece, "How is Teddy doing?"

"He's doing just great," Helga laughed.

"So," Miles started, "tell us about yourself, Helga."

Helga shot Arnold an uneasy look to which the boy replied by holding her hand underneath the table. De javu?

"Well," The blonde answered, "I've known Arnold for all my life. I actually used to bully him a lot when we were younger."

"Oh, yes! I remember now. You were the girl with the one eyebrow that put glue on Arnold's chair and threw feathers on him! Hoho, wowee," Phil cackled joyously.

"Haha... yeah," Helga responded sheepishly.

"Really?" Miles asked, concealing his own laughter.

"I don't put glue on him anymore if you're worried," Helga said, quite embarrassed of her previous actions.

"Yeah, she just makes fun of me now," Arnold joked.

"Hey, I do not," Helga retorted, sticking a tongue out.

"I know you!" Mr. Hyunh chotled, "You were the one that brought my Mai to me that Christmas. She told me of the girl with the one eyebrow who found her. I thank you so much!"

"What? Seriously?" Arnold asked, surprised at what the older man had just revealed. Helga, too, was surprised that Mai had even mentioned her since it was many years ago.

"Well, it was the Christmas that you were trying to find Mai for Mr. Hyunh," She explained, "and I wanted to get you a present, so I sorta-kinda-maybe followed you around and helped you out a little."

"That's amazing, Helga," Stella said.

"Uhuh, I agree," Miles piped up from his meal.

"We're gonna have a talk later," Arnold whispered to her. Helga gulped down a lump in her throat.

The family spent a few more minutes conversing and eating normally. Helga couldn't help but feel strange watching the averageness of the whole situation. No one was yelling. No one was drunk. No one was fighting. It was a refreshing change that she wished she could take home with her. She felt jealous of Arnold for being able to come home to something as homey as this.

After dinner, the two went back upstairs to Arnold's room.

"Your parents seem really nice-" Helga was interrupted midsentence by Arnold's arms pulling her closely to his chest. He planted a butterfly kiss on her forehead. She was taken by surprise at the sudden attack and remained still as she pondered why he was acting this way.

"What's up with you?" She asked as she felt his hand on the small of her back.

"You are the most amazing person I've ever met in my entire life," He said, resting his forehead on hers, staring into her eyes. She felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment.

"Why? What did I do?" She asked shyly, averting her eyes away from him.

"Everything. You did everything. Thank you," He whispered, "It's kinda weird how I hated you so much when we were kids because I thought you made my life miserable when you really made it so much better."

"Well, I can't really blame you for it. I was kind of an asshole as a child," She joked in a hushed tone.

At this, he chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you kind of were, but you were the nicest asshole around."

"You're so weird," Helga laughed, "Let's go watch some Netflix. I've got about two hours before Olga files a missing person report."

"Helga, order's up!"

It was the average Saturday bustle, and Helga wished nothing more than to be dead. Even though she and Arnold had an extravagant rendezvous the night before (consisting of cuddling on his couch as they watched The Office), Helga was back to the mundanity of her life. Handing menus, getting orders, delivering orders— she was just having the time of her life.

"Miss, my-"

"Helga, the-"

"I asked for diet-"

"My sandwich has a hair-"

"Excu-"

Helga ran away from the patrons to the backroom. Literally ran away. She closed the door to the breakroom and took a deep breath. She was so close to a mental breakdown and if she had stayed one more second, she would've exploded. Angry Helga hasn't made an appearance in a while, but she was still very much existent.

Whipping out her phone, she checked the time. Ten more minutes and she's free to go. Taking another deep breath, she exited the breakroom with a big fake smile, resuming service like a happy little elf.

Arnold was happy. He was so happy. If he could describe himself in three words it would be happy, happy, and happy.

As he marched downstairs, he felt a skip in his step. This didn't go unnoticed by the inhabitants lounging in the livingroom, but they inferred that it most likely had to do with the girl they had over the night before.

"Hey, Arnold," Ernie teased, "I bet you had a pretty swell night with your girlfriend, eh?"

"Uh," Arnold blushed, "She's not really my girlfriend yet."

"Oh, really now?" Phil roared, "I wonder why she was climbing up our fire escape yesterday then?"

"Is that how she got in? I wondered how since I never saw her come in through the front door," Stella said, pondering.

"Guys," Arnold groaned.

"Oh, come on, Arnold. We're just teasin'," Ernie laughed.

"I'm going to see Lila, okay? I'll be back before dinner," Arnold called as he exited the front door.

"Okay, honey. Tell her dad we say hi," Stella answered.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Arnold felt the coldness of the outside sink in as he opened the door. It had snowed a lot the previous night, and the forecast said that the week will see a lot more. It was going to suck especially because it was finals week. Arnold was going to need to cram.

As he passed the many stores along the street, Arnold was reminded that Christmas was coming up. He should have started Christmas shopping already. He started to list off some things that he could get his family. A bellywarmer for Grandpa, some aviator goggles for Grandma, a crock pot for Stella, a notebook for Miles... The list went on as he started to think of presents he could give the boarders.

Eventually, his thoughts led him to Helga. She was like an enigmatic roulette to be played. Sometimes, she made him feel invincible - like they, together, were unstoppable; but sometimes, she was so distant with him that it would scare him into thinking that he had done something wrong. It was like walking on eggshells. He just didn't know which Helga was gonna pop up at any given time, but he was determined to figure her out.

Regardless, he supposed she was kind of-sort of-maybe-hopefully his girlfriend now (again). What could he get her? It's their first Christmas together since he got back, and he wanted it to be perfect. He couldn't really get her anything expensive since he was broke, but what could he get her?

Before he realized it, he reached the same, sanitary building he had grown to despise. Why was he here again? Oh, yes. Lila. He felt guilty for feeling happy during a time when he should be depressed over his friend.

He entered the hospital and then her room. Her dad wasn't around; probably working. A grandma was on the other side of the curtain, flipping through channels. She smiled at him as he entered to which he politely smiled back with a nod.

"Boy, this girl must be very popular," the grandma said, "You're the fourth visitor today."

"I guess so," Arnold replied, "She's really nice to everyone. It kinda shook our school when she got in the accident."

"Shame. Her name is Lila, right?" The older woman asked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I've spoken to her father a few times when he was here. Poor thing goes back and forth from work to here everyday," she made a tsk sound, "A parent should never have to experience something as bad as this."

Arnold hummed in agreement.

"You know, you remind me a lot of my grandson, Charlie," she reminisced, "I bet you'd be good friends. He doesn't have to, but he chooses to come here to spend time with me during his free time."

Ah, nice Charlie. He knew about nice Charlie. Arnold disliked nice Charlie.

"I'm sure I'd like to meet him, Ma'am," Arnold answered courteously.

"Oh, enough with this 'Ma'am' business. My name is Ruth. Call me Ruth," She responded.

"Okay, Ruth," Arnold said, testing her name, "My name is Arnold."

"I knew an Arnold once. Back in 1925," She trailed, "but it's okay. I won't bore you with a long story," she chuckled, "I'll leave you alone to talk with Lila."

"Thank you, Ruth," Arnold thanked.

He settled down next to Lila's bed. God, he hated seeing her like this. A feeling of sadness washed over his chest. Grabbing her warm hand, he prayed to himself silently for her recovery. The longer she was in this state, the more he thought about all the things she was missing out on. She was missing out on school days. She was missing out on lunches with her friends. She was missing out on the play she'd been casted as a lead in. She was missing out on life, and he wished she would wake up so she could catch up.

Lila looked like she was sleeping. Most of her minor bruising had faded, and some of her wounds have started to scar, but her state of not-okay was still as prominent as the sun shone in the sky. She still had bandages all over her body, and the cast around her hips stuck out on the blankets.

"Lila," he thought, "you need to wake up. You really, really need to wake up."

"Bye, Boris," Helga yelled as she left the premises of her workplace.

She made her way through the streets of Hillwood. It was still fairly early so the sun was still out. She started to walk quickly. She wanted to get out of the cold as soon as she could. As she passed a blur of store windows and people, a rectangular object caught her eye in a window, displayed with a wreath and other holiday adornments. Her heart started pounding as she approached the window.

It was her book. It had been in the printing press for months now. Her editor had told her that it wouldn't be out into the stores for at least a few more weeks, and yet here it was, glaring at her. It felt like the object was almost making fun of her for her ignorance.

Quickly entering the store, she approached the table that was full of her books, labeled "Hot and New" hanging above on a sign. She grabbed a book and marveled at its existence. She almost cried. It was leather-bound, just like she told her editor she wanted, and had neat letters printed on the cover, reading "Trivial Pursuit" and her penname on the bottom. She flipped through the pages an saw that, truly, her work was there in actual book form.

"Are you a fan, young lady?" She heard an old voice croak. Turning around, she saw that an elderly shopkeeper was smiling at her. She always liked old people. They were adorable. This one had on a flannel with a bright green vest on top of it. "This book has been selling very well among the young'ings since it came out a few weeks ago."

Her heart soared at the revelation. "Really?"

The shopkeeper nodded and reached for the book himself. "I read it myself, too. It was very good. Whoever wrote this had quite the experience."

Feeling her cheeks flush, Helga embarrassedly stared down at the book in an attempt to hide her face. "What's it about?" She didnt know why she asked the man such a stupid question. She knew very well what it was about, but she wanted to see if her message actually came across.

"Hm... I think that Marion, the main character, had quite a strange fixation on a boy. Peter, I think his name was," The shopkeeper took a book and opened it to a page, "See right here it says that they met when he helped her from being bullied when they were younger."

Helga made a humming noise to conceal her embarrassment.

"Shall I spoil it for you? I always hate it when someone spoils stories for me," The old man asked.

"No, no. It's alright. I was planning on buying this for my sister," Helga lied.

"Alright," the old man said, "Well, after Peter helped her out that one time, she became quite attached, but she treated him poorly. I guess it's just how children function," he chuckled, "I remember doing the same thing to my wife when we were children."

Helga politely listened, the initial shock of someone actually read it wearing off. "That sounds sweet."

"Oh, yes," he chimed, "She was the love of my life the same way she was the bane of my existence," he laughed, "Anywho, back to the story. Marion was very mean to him, but still very much loved him. Perhaps a little too much, but I suppose love never hurt anyone."

Helga gulped down a lump in her throat. "How did you feel about it?"

"Hm, I liked it very much. I think the author," he squinted at her penname on the bottom, "Ms. Verona, went through quite the childhood."

She couldn't help but crack a smile. She took the book in her hands and squeezed it tightly. "I'd like to purchase this, please."

"Oh, you're in for a ride," the old man said, ushering her over to the cash register. She paid for the book and thanked the elder man, leaving the store with a paper bag with her book in it.

The elderly shopkeeper opened to the very back page to confirm a sneaking suspicion at the back of his head and chuckled to himself as he saw the author information page, a picture displayed in a small square of the writer.

"Who was that dear?" A woman's voice asked as she emerged from a closet.

"Juliet Verona," he laughed.

As Arnold walked through the snow, he looked around the stores to spot something anything, that he could get for Helga. He had a problem. See, he wanted to get her something nice, but he was also very broke. Every nice thing he saw was too expensive. He had been walking around aimlessly for hours now, and he was starting to get frustrated.

Just as he was about to give up, he spotted a bookstore. Helga like books didn't she? Maybe he'll find something about poetry or something like that. He entered the store and looked around.

"Can I help you, young man?" He heard an older man ask from the cash register.

"Oh, I'm just browising," Arnold answered politely, "Just doin' some Christmas shopping."

The older man lowered his glasses to take a better look at the customer entering his store. He approached Arnold, placing the snow globe he had been tinkering with on a shelf. "Mom? Dad? Girlfriend?"

"My girlfriend, I guess," Arnold said, feeling flustered at saying the term outloud to someone else for the first time, "she likes to read."

"Might I suggest this book?" The older man took a copy of the green book piled on the table, "It's been very popular among young people since it came out."

Arnold took the copy and eyed it. It was very cute. He looked at the author's name and cringed slightly at the cheesiness, but he supposed that it didn't really matter. "What's it about?"

"You know, a girl came in here earlier and asked the same thing," the old man croaked, "why can't young people just read the summary?" He shook his head.

"Good idea," Arnold laughed slightly. He opened the book to the front and brisked through the summary.

She was in love with him. She hated him. He was a nice boy. He liked her.

Up and coming Juliet Verona tells the tale of an unlikely relationship between a kind boy and an angry girl going through life from the innocence of childhood to the confusion of adolescence to the maturity of adulthood.

"It doesn't really tell me very much," Arnold said, not quite understanding what the book is really about.

Sighing, the old man picked up a copy of the book and read the summary, realizing that it had been very general. "Alright, I'll tell you all about it."

Arnold lowered the book and listened attentively to the man.

"The story is about a young girl named Marion. She came from a pretty dysfunctional background. Her father had left her when she was young and her mother was an alcoholic. The child was basically left to fend for herself."

"That's sad," Arnold said. The old man shot an impatient look at him.

"You want me to finish or not? I'm getting quite tired explaining this book to people all day."

"Sorry," Arnold chuckled.

"Anyway, this boy named Peter; he was the first person to have ever treated her nicely, so she started to have a fixation on him. She would be very mean when they were children, and a little bit when they were teenagers," the old man described, "you see, she didn't know how to properly show affection to other people, so she just did everything she could to get his attention."

Arnold felt familiar with the situation and couldn't help himself but smile at the book. "How does it end?"

"They go their separate ways," the old man said. Arnold felt disappointed. "They were only kids when they fell in love. I think that the author was going through a tough time with her own love affairs when she wrote this. The separation felt very real."

"That's too bad. My girlfriend and I sorta went through the same thing, but I don't want her to get any ideas," he joked.

"It's still a very good read. You can tell from the way she wrote her story that Ms. Verona very much felt in love and lost."

Arnold hummed, thinking about it. "Is it really a good story?"

"Would I tell you it was if it wasn't?" The old man asked flatly.

"I guess not," Arnold smiled, "okay, I'll buy it."

"Good decision."

"Hey, Helga. How was work?"

"It was fine, Olga," Helga answered, kicking off her shoes.

"Come in the kitchen for some food!"

Hanging her coat up on the rack, she followed the scent of cinnamon and caramelizing fruit all the way to the kitchen. She secured the book in her hands, giddy and excited to show her sister what she had just bought. Setting it down on the table, she waited for Olga to turn around.

"Look, Olga," Helga said excitedly. The older girl turned with a smile on her face.

"What's this?"

"It's my book!" Helga answered giddily.

"What seriously-Ow!" Olga exclaimed, flinching away from the hot pan she was holding.

"Look, everything's here," Helga babbled, flipping through the book excitedly.

"I wanna see it!" Olga said, setting down the pot and taking off her apron. Helga handed her the book. Olga touched the cover and spun the rectangular object around in her hands, marveling in its existence. "It's amazing! Oh, I'm so proud of you, Baby Sister!" Olga pulled her sister into a tight embrace, kissing the younger girl's temple.

"Thanks," Helga smiled.

"I'm gonna read it all tonight!" Olga declared.

Helga couldn't help but share her sister's excitement. The two girls went on to chat about how the book ended up getting published and the steps it took to get there. Eventually, they reached the topic Helga dreaded to talk about: the conception of the story.

"So, what's the story about?" Olga asked, her eyes gleaming in interest.

"Oh, uh, it's about a guy," Helga stumbled, "and a girl."

"Oh, come on, Helga. You gotta give me more than that."

"Okay, well..." Helga trailed, explaining the story to Olga in the least conspicuous way she could, "...and then she goes off to the Amazon to explore the jungle, and he goes to Paris to paint for the Galerie du Anya."

"Wow," Olga said, "how'd you come up with it?"

"It was, uh, I just watched the, uh, internet," The younger girl blabbed.

"Really? 'Cause this sounds awfully like how you and Arn-"

"What? No. That's ridiculous," Helga denied.

Olga smiled at her sister's flustered denial. "Okay, then. Let me digress. How are you and Arnold doing? I still feel kind of embarrassed about what happened the other night over dinner."

"He's okay," Helga responded, blushing madly at the memory of their late night rendezvous the night before. She still wasn't completely comfortable talking to Olga about such things.

"Oh, come on," Olga teased, "you look as red as a tomato. Surely, some of it was inspired by him. It's not everyday that someone goes to the Amazon Jungle, of all places."

"I- I- Lila's doing well," Helga blurted in an attempt to change the subject. Olga eyed her teasingly, but gave in to her sister's decision to not talk about her love life. Helga will come around sooner or later.

"Yes, I came by to see her today," Olga said sadly, "my poor lil' sis."

"I know. It sucks," Helga sighed.

"How do you feel about it?" Olga asked.

"It's hard," She said, "I mean, I was so... I didn't care about her as much as I should have when she was okay. She was always there for me, and I guess she was one of my best friends. But, life goes on, and it sucks that hers is on pause."

"I hope she'll be okay," Olga recanted, "the doctor said she was recovering nicely."

"She should. Her dad can't afford to keep her in there anymore."

"Oh, yes. I'd forgotten about their situation..." Olga tsked, "maybe we can help them out."

"How?"

Olga thought for a moment.

"I know just the thing and just the person to ask for help."

Arnold should be studying. He should be looking over his notes and studying for the midterms he was going to have all week starting Monday. He should be mentally preparing himself. Instead, he found himself completely engrossed in the book he was supposed to give Helga. It was so interesting - so familiar - that he just couldn't find it in himself to put it down.

The characters remind him so much of people in Hillwood. A girl named Claire was so overbearing that she reminded him of Rhonda. A boy named Arthur was so clumsy that he reminded Arnold of Eugene. A wise, overly-kind teacher reminded him of Mr. Simmons. The story related so much to his life that he couldn't put it down. Reading the book was like reading his life from another person's perspective. Many of the scenarios reminded him of the many adventures he had had as a child.

When he brought the book to the table, it worried his family. Arnold wasn't the type to read for fun. He barely read for school. They just assumed that he was doing it as some form of revision for his finals and left him alone. He carried the book all the way back up to his room, never once putting it down. He wouldn't even leave it when he had to go to the bathroom.

He got to a point in the story where Peter, one of the deuteragonists, was finally admitting his feelings to Marion, the other main character, after years of denial. They were in the middle of a flood, the community desperately trying to evacuate the city before the flood entered their homes. At that point, they were teenagers, and Peter was about to move away when a huge storm suddenly came to their city. The two teens in the story were trapped inside Marion's attic after Peter rushed in to save her after finding out she had been trapped in her room.

"Marion," Peter whispered as he draped his thick, wet coat around her shoulders, "I have something to tell you."

Marion turned away from him, shivering and knowing what exactly he was about to say. "Don't."

"But, I love you."

"Why now?" She asked, averting her eyes away from his. He let his hands hover over her shoulders before pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Because I don't know if this is the last time I'll ever see you again," He answered.

Tears. Arnold felt like a wuss. If the guys could see him now, they would call him a pussy. A major pussy. That was what the book had reduced him to. But, he kept insisting in his mind that it wasn't his fault. Wasn't that was basically happened in the jungle? It struck too close to home.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a knocking on his door. He quickly wiped whatever tears he had in his eyes and closed the book, leaving a bookmark to the page where he stopped. He was already halfway through the book.

"How's studying, Kimba?" Grandma asked, entering the room with a tray of cookies and milk.

"Uh, great, Grandma. Thanks," He answered, taking the tray from his arthritic grandmother. The elder woman waved him off and set it down herself on his desk.

"C'mon, Arnold, I'm not that old yet," Pookie waved off.

"Grandma, you're eighty-seven. You shouldn't be tiring yourself out like this. I can get it myself," Arnold reasoned.

"Oh, hush," She shushed, exiting the room, "Study hard and bring home the buffalo, dear."

"Okay," Arnold chuckled.

He then turned to resume his reading but felt guilty. He should study. Sighing, he decided that he could read any time anyway. He walked towards his book and begrudgingly opened his textbook. This was going to be a long night.

Author's Note:

Hi hi. Sorry it's a little bit shorter this week. I love your guys' response to my question last week, and I'm so happy that you guys think I should keep the longer chapters, but I decided to test out making them shorter. I realized that I've been writing for quantity rather than quality, and I'm really ashamed of it. So, I'll slowly be writing shorter and shorter chapters (but not to where it's like a two-minute read or something. I'll keep it above 3000 words). With shorter chapters, I can focus on making the experience better rather than just telling some blah story, yknow. I hope yalls can understand.

Leave a thought, a like, and a fave!

-G