Chapter One: Billboard Dreams

"Stop!"

The taxi driver quickly pressed on the break pedal, feeling his heart slam into his ribs as he flew forwards. His passenger threw the door open, chucked a wad of bills at him, and ran.

Helga felt someone forcefully grab onto her shoulders. She reacted immediately, throwing Old Betsey behind her and hitting her attacker in the face.

"Oh, shit," the woman held her nose. Helga whipped around, eyes growing wide when it donned on her who she just hit.

"Oh, my God! I am so sorry!" She pulled the older woman off to the side, letting angry New Yorkers pass by with ease. The woman was tall and thin wearing a very expensive looking suit. Her lapel was adorned with a small golden wing pin that now sat lopsided after Helga's hit.

"It's alright," the woman laughed, "I should've expected that. It's New York after all."

"Are you sure you're okay?" The woman tipped her head back and rested it against the side of the skyscraper, white-blond hair coming undone from it's bun.

"I actually need to talk to you." She looked Helga in the eyes, finally letting go of her nose and shaking her hand, "Hi, I'm Sharen Turney. And I'd like you to be an Angel."

H-A

"Our Spring Angels Have Just Landed!. . .All New Dream Angels for Spring 2011!"

"Spring my ass," Helga hissed in a whisper as her breath carried into the air. The petite brunette model beside her giggled before the director yelled at them to quiet down.

"We're rolling soon!" he yelled in an oversized megaphone, snapping his hands at his assistant. Together the two men discussed the next scene while the new Victoria's Secret Dream Angels adjusted their iconic white wings.

The girls were huddled on an expensive yacht, their heels clicking on the waxed ship deck, waiting impatiently for their cues. Helga had been chosen to walk down the deck and she wasn't looking forward to it.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," the brunette offered an encouraging smile. Helga looked at the crowds of people - the models, the assistant directors, lighting crew, boom mike operators, make-up artists and costume designers - and sighed. She was nervous and Helga G. Pataki didn't do nervous. Valencia will be in a world of hurt for this, she thought angrily.

"Blondie, over here!" the director barked. "If we get this fast, I'll dismiss you to your next shoot. Your manager tells me it's urgent. Apparently VS wants your shot for next week's ad campaign."

Helga felt her smile grow as her manager, Juan "Valencia" Torres, stepped out of the crowd and flashed a thumbs up. He clipped his iPhone back into his Louis Vuitton belt case and tapped his Gucci flip flop on the deck. "Well, get going!" he thrashed his hands forwards at the director.

The director smiled and sat down in his chair, "Places!"

Helga ran across the deck of the boat, standing on her mark, mentally preparing herself for this walk. She wanted this done without any accidents so she could get out of these damn wings.

"Just walk this way for me," the director shouted at Helga. She nodded, forced herself to be sexy, and waited for his count. "1. . .2. . .3. . .action!" Forty minutes, and thirty takes later, Helga was stripping out of her wings and heels, tossing them into the mobile costume trailer.

"V, man, I really owe you one!"

He arched his recently waxed eyebrow at her, mouth dropping open. He shook his head, "You're not done yet."

"So. . .that photo shoot is real? They really need me?" Helga could feel a smile growing.

He wanted to smack her forehead, but that put him at risk for life-threatening injuries. "Yep. Come on, you need to unveil next week's PINK line."

"I don't like this," Helga mumbled to the dressing room mirror. Valencia rolled his eyes, "You can't say that yet."

"Why not?" she demanded before throwing the offending item of clothing over her very exposed bust.

"You haven't made a million yet. Once you hit the big time, you can decide what you wear. Until then you do what they say. Please, Helga." Helga groaned and put on the matching underwear. "I'm saying this as your best friend," he smirked, "get your sexy, skinny ass out to the studio."

Helga released a quick, anxious breath as she stepped out of the dressing room. After getting her make-up and hair touched up, she walked into the hot and overcrowded studio. The photographer introduced himself before explaining to Helga the point of the shoot. "Plaid is totally in right now, and although the red isn't a spring color, your bra is. It's the perfect match!"

Helga quickly adjusted her pale yellow push up bra and smiled awkwardly. "Get to your mark." The fan began blowing shortly after, whipping her platinum blond extensions off her face and into the air. She quickly bent her body at unfamiliar angles, following the photographer's demands, enjoying the praise she received for a job well done.

H-A

Arnold didn't know it was possible to choke on air. His eyes slowly followed the larger than life body plastered on the billboard in front of him. He had to be crazy. He was certifiably out of his mind.

The two boys were standing outside Faneuil Hall Marketplace, Boston. He had walked past this place almost every day, but today he realized a new poster on the roof. He had no words to describe what he was seeing.

Arnold turned to his right, his college roommate smirking. "She's hot," his curly mess of black hair fell forwards in the wind. "Like damn. Looks like I have a new favorite."

Arnold blinked again, trying to tear his eyes away. It wasn't working. He couldn't wrap his mind around it.

She was modeling again, that much was for sure. But for who was the big kicker. . .Her blond hair was whipped back off her face, blue eyes revealing a sensual side of her that Arnold had never seen before. She was very tanned, wearing a playful half-smile as she tugged on the end of the fitted red plaid shirt (similar to the one he had worn throughout most of his childhood), revealing her chest and yellow bra. Her toned stomach was exposed slightly and the curves of her hips were showing as her underwear curved around her body. Her legs were shimmering, it was obvious she had been photoshopped or covered in oil. But he couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that she looked really, really. . .sexy, edited or not.

"Mmm, I'd like a piece of that." Jay nudged Arnold as he quickly adjusted his fallen sunglasses. He pulled them over his dark eyes, still chuckling.

"Dude, shut up!" Arnold hissed as he walked towards the bus stop.

"Now, I really can't wait to meet her," Jay replied as they stepped onto the bus heading towards the airport.

H-A!

"Valencia, I swear to God, I am going to kill you so hard that even Bert and Ernie will feel it!"

"Woah, what? Why are you bringing up Sesame Street?" Juan laughed on the other end of the phone.

"I'm so freaked out right now I can't even think to insult you correctly! The first thing that popped into my head was those damn gay puppets!" Helga shrieked into the phone as she stared at her giant billboard ad. She had known she'd be a new poster girl, but she had no idea she's be fifty feet tall in Times Square.

"Still not getting why you're so freaked."

Helga growled, "I'm going home today! Everyone I know is coming back for some stupid five year reunion or something. I can't believe. . . I'm going to die of embarrassment." She covered her face with her free hand.

"Helga, I would never steer you wrong. This is going to be great for your career! You should be jumping up and down in those Jimmy Choos I bought you! You are the next Victoria's Secret Angel!"

Helga smiled brightly, but tired to keep her tone annoyed for Juan. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Alright. I'll talk to you later."

Helga gently smacked her palm to her forehead, she had to get out of here. "Taxi!"

The flight from New York to Hillwood was long. It felt longer because Helga continued to tap her fingers impatiently in a rhythmic beat on her arm rest. She was nervous about what Phoebe would say, she couldn't even imagine how she would react. Phoebe knew how much Helga had hated modeling back in fourth grade. Now, sixteen years later, she was doing it again. Except this time it was a million times more revealing. She could practically hear the lectures from Phoebe about body image and the terrible affect it had on young women's personal views now.

Helga quickly disembarked the plane, ready to get the awkward family reunion out of the way before going to Phoebe's. She knew Big Bob and Miram wouldn't care about her job, they only cared about their grandkids, Olga and her husband.

She concentrated hard on the click of her heels as she walked through the airport, shaking with anticipation. She just felt an overwhelming sense of dread as the crowds of families shoved their way through the small baggage claim area. If only she could just skip to Friday. . .

"Holy Mother of God!" a voice made Helga turn her head up. "It's you!"

"Excuse me?" Helga asked, fist clenching just incase.

"Jay!" Helga turned around, whipping her extensions into Jay's face, eyes bugging out slightly. "Jay, I told you not to. . ." Arnold's eyes met with hers, "H-Helga."

It was silent for a minute before her brain could fully function enough to respond. "Hey, Football Head. Long time no see." Helga forced herself to smile, hoping to come off as a little bit sweet.

Arnold nodded, staring at her, silent. She looked exactly like she did the picture. Damn, was the only word Arnold could think of.

"I saw your ad," Jay interrupted the silence.

"Good for you," Helga turned and faced him.

"You are so fucking hot."

Helga laughed, "It's called Photoshop."

"You look the exact same. That's no Photoshop. You are just naturally beautiful."

"Thanks, I think?"

"I'm sorry about Jay," Arnold stepped in between them, pressing his hand hard into Jay's chest. He stepped back with a loud "Oof!"

Arnold and Helga ignored him. "He's heard a lot about you, and got excited to finally put a name to a face."

Jay forcefully shoved Arnold aside before Helga could respond. Her face immediately set in a glare. Jay quickly looked Helga up and down, staring at her legs as they poked out of short white shorts. "Nice legs," Jay winked, "Where do they open?" Arnold covered his mouth, trying to stop a laugh that built in his throat.

"Nice mouth," Helga replied, "Let me shut it!" Helga quickly smacked him across the face, leaving the red mark of her palm.

Arnold turned to Jay, "You deserved that." He smiled at Helga, very impressed by her strength.

"Didn't Arnold tell you anything about me?" Helga asked sweetly as she began walking away. Jay continued to rub his cheek, struggling to catch up.

"Nothing besides the fact you were the sexiest thing he's seen since ever!" Jay exclaimed, smiling as Arnold's cheeks reddened.

Helga's heart picked up as she rolled her eyes, "He didn't say that. Arnold must've mentioned something about the years of torture I inflicted onto his sensitive, annoyingly optimistic ego."

"Yeah, he mentioned that," Jay laughed.

"So, are you guys here for a romantic weekend getaway?" Helga smirked.

"What? No! I'm here for the same reason you are and Jay wanted to tag along to meet everyone. I haven't stopped talking about Hillwood since I met him in Boston," Arnold smiled.

" I just want to see why it's so damn great. I don't think anything compares to Boston," Jay rolled his eyes.

"I think you're an idiot," Helga shot back.

"You've already bruised me once today," Jay pouted.

"Oh, man up!"

"Guys!" Arnold yelled. The two finally went silent. "Thank you for shutting up. Now, let's see if you two can behave long enough as we ride back to our neighborhood."