Whiskers

Chapter 01

Authoress' Note: This idea came to me because for the past, oh, six years I have been raising motherless kittens. I dedicate this story to those precious little babies and to my first baby, Simba.

All Hey, Arnold! characters are property of Craig B. and Nickelodeon. This is for entertainment purposes only ^^.

"Please?" The Hillwood High senior biology teacher, Mr. Spicson, pleaded with his class.

Those who were still awake looked away from the large brown puppy eyes the teacher was making at them.

"Like, totally take them to a shelter or something." One girl offered, "Like, isn't that what they are there for?"

The man sighed and sagged against his desk, "I tried but they said they were overcrowded and didn't have the man power to care for newborns."

Turning, the man picked up the small shoe box that had several cleaning rags stuffed in it to make a haphazard nest for the sleeping creatures inside. He drew back the top rag to expose three fuzzy bodies tightly balled together to preserve what warmth their tiny bodies generated.

"J-Just look at them!" He pleaded, tilting the box carefully to show the newborn kittens to the class.

Only one person bothered to look, and it was only that person who stayed after the bell rang and Mr. Spicson had to clutch the box close to his chest in order to not have it knocked out of his hand by the fleeing teenagers.

Pouting, the man covered the tiny babies back up and hung his head.

"Mr. Spicson?" Arnold Short addressed, stepping in front of the distraught teacher. "I'll do it."

The man's head snapped up and his eyes nearly watered with gratitude. "Really, Arnold?"

Scratching the back of his neck, as was his nervous gesture, the boy shrugged, "Sure, I mean, I could try."

The man was nearly giddy with excitement as he bustled around the front of the class, collecting various papers that he had strewn about earlier.

"Spicson," came a familiar voice from the hall a second before the owner crossed into the classroom. "Mrs. Haulmeyer said you wanted the heating pa—" the rest of her monotone statement dried in her mouth as her eyes landed on the tall blonde who was glancing back at her. "Arnold?"

"Hey, Helga." Arnold acknowledged with a small smile. "What's up?"

Mentally slapping herself, she squared her shoulders and shoved the wrapped up heating pad toward the male teacher. "Here," she barked a bit harsher than she wanted. It took all her practiced indifference to not stare at the other student.

"Oh, thanks, Pataki." Mr. Spicson took the proffered heating pad and a large stack of papers and shoved them all into a plastic shopping bag.

"Well, see ya." Helga gave a stiff half-hearted wave as she turned to leave.

"Pataki, I need you to stay and go over some things about the current assignment." He then looked over at Arnold and muttered that a few more pages probably needed to be printed.

Sighing heavily, the girl about-faced and marched back to the desk, letting her backpack fall from her shoulder to the floor in a thunk beforedropping down into his swivel chair. In order to keep her eyes off of the six foot one, swim champion Helga noticed the shoebox sitting at the edge of the desk. Curious, she hooked a finger over one side and dragged it toward her.

Her eyebrows shot up when she pushed the rags out of the way and saw three very small, very frail looking—worms inside.

"Fuzzy worms?" She questioned aloud to no one in particular, gingerly poking one of the darker ones with a finger.

"They're kittens, Helga." Arnold corrected. "Mr. Spicson found them in the alley today by the school. He said they were curled up with their mom but she was, uh, had been hit by a car or something."

Helga glanced up at the boy then over to the teacher then back down to the kittens. She gently started to stroke red stripped one with her finger, the kitten stirred and let out a few soft mews.

"There!" The man said triumphantly, grabbing the last of the print offs and cramming them in the bag. It wasn't until he went to hand them off to Arnold that he noticed a small problem, and instantly deflated.

"Oh, uhm, it might be a bit difficult with your—injury." He motioned down to Arnold's left wrist that was encased in a cast. "I—don't know if you'd be able to handle them."

As the boy sheepishly tried to defend himself as a fit foster-parent, since no one else was going to take the job anyway, Helga kept petting the newborns. A slender calico, a fat orange, and a delicate looking grey, all of them were trying to find food or warmth but not having much strength, only nuzzled each other.

She wasn't particularly impressed, until the orange one grabbed her with his tiny paw and gummed her finger.

Something in her heart warmed up as if Arnold had just smiled at her with his half-lidded, lopsided smile.

"I don't know—" Mr. Spicson scratched the end of his nose. "Maybe if you had help—"

"I'll do it." Helga piped up suddenly.

Both men turned their heads toward the female, both a bit slack jawed with their eyes clearly disbelieving.

"What?" She asked defensively.

"You, Pataki?" Spicson did nothing to cover up his astonishment. "You want to—"

Rolling her eyes, she stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. "Crimney, you'd think I was going to eat them or something. Gimpy can't do it by himself and I don't—," she stopped herself and then fixed them with a glare. "I said I would help so take it or leave it."

"Uh," Mr. Spicson looked at Arnold then to Helga, then back to Arnold. "If it's okay with you, Short?"

"Sure." Arnold finally answered; still shocked that Helga would lend any type of helping hand instead of a fisted one. The teacher, completely dumbfounded by Helga and terrified for Arnold's safety, gave them some brief instructions and a journal to keep notes. Spicson only got a handful of words out to Helga about her last assignment before having one of the coaches come into the room and drag him out for a staff meeting.

Staring down at the 'fuzzy worms' Helga gave them a small smile, one that was almost bridging on tender. The smile probably would have completely tripped over the line into motherly had not Arnold decided then to speak up.

"Uh," he started, "thanks for helping out, Helga. But I got to ask—why?"

The softness of expression in her eyes was shoved back into a vault in her heart as she let the mask of annoyance cover her features.

"Why not? It's not like I'm donating a kidney to them or anything." Arnold stared at her, patiently waiting for—something. "Or maybe I just want to raise them to sacrifice to the pagan god of my choice."

Arnold rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something but was cut short.

"Okay, first of all, football-head," Helga started sarcastically, "we are going to be raising cats not frogs, so shut your yap 'cause we don't need the bugs." She emphasized her point by putting a finger under Arnold's chin and snapping it shut for him.

"Secondly, if you're going to insist on having a philosophical discussion about every choice I make, we might as well start chiseling their headstones." Arnold didn't appreciate the crude joke, but he got the point.

"Thirdly, I'm going to guess that if they've been without their mom for the past, oh, seven hours, their probably pretty hungry, as am I, and also bored with this conversation, as am I." She slung both of her backpack straps on one shoulder and reached down to pick up the small box with the squirming, mewing newborns inside.

"Anything else?" Arnold questioned flatly.

"Well, there is one more thing," she replied as she started toward the door.

"And that would be?"

She turned and glanced over her shoulder as she was leaving the science room, "Are you going to stand there all day or what?"

Arnold rolled his eyes and sighed. Grabbing the sack of provisions and paper Mr. Spicson had given them and followed after the blonde girl.

They had decided to take the bus to avoid the cold and so the kittens could be as warm as possible. Arnold thumbed through the print offs, and plucked out those he found semi-useful. One had a list of basic needs when fostering motherless kittens which he had shown to his partner.

Helga had taken it on herself to start looking up more information about the best products on her cell phone.

"Wow, Helga, nice phone."

Helga glanced over at Arnold with an eyebrow quirked in silent question before a smirk traced her lips. "It should be, bucko, I don't work at Big Bob's for the uniform."

"You work for your dad?"

"Yup, have been since I turned sixteen," she shrugged returning her attention to the cell phone screen, "it's a paycheck and free goodies that can only come by being an employee and, doi, the boss' kid."

Though he couldn't remember her name at home, Bob had quickly remembered her name at his emporium and it wasn't just because of the embroidered name on the black uniform shirt.

Since he reluctantly hired her, she had proven herself an excellent salesperson and had a talent of getting customers to open up a line of credit with the store, meaning they could buy more than just with cash.

She continued to key in the letters on the search engine. On the outside she was the picture of cool, if not sarcastic, boredom to the boy beside her but on the inside the nine-year-old, smitten school girl was giggling and trying to stop herself from fainting with excitement.

Ever since the last year of Junior high, Helga had reeled in the bullying. No one made her, but it became too monotonous when it was what became expected of her. She had growled and balled her fists but finally caged her attitude and starved it into a submissive version of itself. Arnold had been the first one to mention the change in her back then and she had just shrugged saying people changed.

"So, we need formula," Helga continued. "According to this, Quadruped Quick Care powdered formula seems the best option." A few more types later, "and it's sold at Dr. Traugher's office off of Pear and Keys."

"That's coming up soon," Arnold noted after checking the street signs the bus rambled passed. "She's a pretty good vet; I take Abner there when he's gotten into something he shouldn't have."

"Abner?" Helga parroted. "What's an Abner?"

"My pet pig."

She opened her mouth to remark when the bus made a shaky stop. Arnold jumped up, claimed both of the backpacks from between them before Helga could protest and offered his hand to help her up. She normally would have said no, but with the box in one hand and her cell in the other, she had to allow him to pull her up.

They stepped off the bus and Arnold pointed out the office and started in the direction.

Helga bit the inside of her cheek to fight down the blush that threatened to bloom on her face, "By the way, football-head, what's your cell phone number?"

"Huh?" Arnold blinked down at her.

"Ya know a cell phone," she waved hers in front of his face, "looks something like this? Tiny box, buncha keys, lets you call people?"

"Oh," Arnold straightened the straps of the backpacks, "Don't have one."

"What!" Helga's pure shock glued her to the spot.

Arnold shrugged. "Don't have one."

Shaking her head, she jogged to catch up to him.

"Wha—why-who doesn't have a cell phone these days! Do you even have an e-mail or do you use a chisel and stone tablet?!"

Arnold chuckled at her question, "I guess I just found other things to spend my money on."

Working in the electronics world, the blonde female was beyond baffled how anyone could even start to survive in this world without a cell phone. It was the very staple of society! Not to mention sanity.

"I can't believe you," Helga huffed. "You have a pig but not a cell? Is there anything normal about you?"

"My grades?" He offered, gave a small grin and opened the door for her. She rolled her eyes and walked in, muttering, still, in disbelief.

"So, my place or yours?" Arnold questioned smoothly in a low voice and with a barely masked smile of amusement.

Helga had been in the mid-sip of her cola when he chose to ask, the cola didn't go down smoothly and left her coughing. Her cheeks heated up considerably as she turned to him with wide blue eyes and answered with a less than poetic, "Huh?"

Arnold let out a genuine laugh at her reaction. "I meant, do we take the kittens to your house or mine?"

She jerked her face away from his as she shoved a box of baby wipes into the cart he was pushing. They had gone to the vet's and received even more advice that required a trip to the local pet and grocery stores.

Helga had been so intent on reading the list of suggested supplies she was caught completely off guard by the horrid pick up line that was just an innocent question. Had he done that on purpose? Was he—flirting with her?

Trying to clear the thoughts away, she decided to exercise her best weapon against any perceived threats, her tongue.

"Whatever floats your boat, football-head," she replied, it didn't come out as sassy or confident and she cringed. It sounded more like a girl who had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Daring a glance in his direction, the school girl in her sighed contently at the image of him leaning on the shopping cart, giving her a lazy smile with his gorgeous green eyes half-lidded. It was the same way he smiled since they met back in preschool but over the years it had become less innocent and more, dare she say, seductive.

Though she became less of a stalker over the years, she also had found more and more reasons to stay as crazy in love with him as ever. He was sill the kind, simple, and easy-going guy he'd always been but his looks, and his height, both shot up the charts at the beginning of ninth grade. Arnold would never be anything other than an Adonis in her eyes but other girls started to notice him more and that bothered her. To add icing to the cake, he'd also filled out with broad shoulders and toned muscles thanks to the many hours of swimming and basketball practice he'd endured over the years.

The only thing she would ever want to tweak would be his obliviousness when it came to the A-Bomb sized hints she dropped when they were younger.

"Then, since you insist on paying," And nearly fracturing my other wrist to get your way, he added on the inside "I say we use my house."

Helga only shrugged and led them down another aisle.

"I'm a Grandmother!" Stella exclaimed happily as she peeked into the box at the sleeping fur balls.

Arnold and Helga blushed in unison.

They had barely shut the door when Mrs. Short stomped into the foyer where they were removing their jackets and demanded to know where Arnold had been. Helga had quickly answered they were shopping for supplies for the kittens, and then offered up the box as evidence.

With a quick explanation of how they came into possession of the tiny creatures, Stella was near tears. She beamed with pride at the two teenagers for having such soft, caring hearts.

Arnold rolled his eyes with a smile while Helga's face burned crimson from the compliment.

"Th-their just kittens, Mom," Arnold corrected, trying to cool his heated features.

"There more than that," the woman waved off his explanation with a smile. "They are my grandkittens!" She cooed at the babies, stroking their soft fuzzy heads with her fingertips.

Helga glanced up at Arnold, who only shrugged lightly.

"Just don't stand there, Daddy," Stella smirked at her son, standing to her full height, arms crossed. "Your babies are hungry!"

Helga snickered as Arnold lost his casualness with a blush. With a stammered suggestion, Arnold told her to go to the room while he heated the water and mixed the formula. Still grinning at Stella's statement, the blonde girl made her way to the attic bedroom.

Opening the door, she carefully put the box of kittens and bag of supplied on the floor before seeking out an outlet to plug in the heating pad. Even if they had been kept warm by her body heat for most of the trip from school, she didn't want them to catch a chill. The vet had been very strict about keeping them warm and fed.

Scooping out each of the kitten with gentle hands, the girl then arranged the heating pad on the bottom, a placed one of the baby blankets they'd purchased (on clearance of course) on top of the pad. All the while she was doing that, the babies squirmed and mewed for food and comfort. Sighing, Helga crossed her legs in an Indian style, and placed them in the nest of her legs and lap.

"Hey, hey," she chastised as the orange one nudged his way into the small gap left by her foot and leg. "You're supposed to stay put, I'm sure Arnold-o will be coming up soon." She thought over her statement and with a sigh and roll of her eyes added, "Well, maybe not considering he is currently a one armed bandit."

"I heard that," Arnold teased as he nudged the door close with his heel. "Everything ready?"

"Just waiting on you, slow poke," Helga grouched, but lacked venom. It was hard to be angry, or even feign it when she had her attention on squirming bodies that were trying to climb up her thigh.

Handing her the mug with a warning it was hot, Arnold joined her on the ground after fetching the papers Mr. Spicson and the vet had given them. His blonde eyebrows shot up when he read the pre-feeding expectation. Since he was only able to use one arm, the male fished out the baby wipes, handed them to the girl and then read off the first step.

"Your orphan kitten will need for you to—take care of both ends. To do this, you will need to gently stimulate the bowels and bladder with a warm, moist cotton ball or baby wipe until the kitten has dispelled of his waste materials," Arnold was proud of himself for not allowing his voice to crack with amusement, having a fairly good guess of how his partner was going to react.

"I'm supposed to what!" Helga snatched the paper from Arnold's hands and scanned it. Pure horror settled over her face. "Th-that's disgusting!" She yelped.

He couldn't help it; Arnold burst out laugh as Helga's macho girl image snapped apart and went up in flames.

"We have to," Arnold pressed a moment later beating down the action to just a smile on his lips.

Helga looked over at him, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"No, we don't have to, you do it. I am only going to feed them, you do the rest!" She pushed the baby wipes at the other blonde and crossed her arms in defiance.

"Helga," Arnold started, frowning. She turned her nose up higher and her head away further. "You know I can't do this." When she only answered him with an hmmph, he tentatively added, "alone."

Although he couldn't see it, Helga's eyebrows began to twitch as she fought with herself. On one hand, what he was expecting her to do was completely and utterly disgusting, on the other—he was Arnold. Grinding her teeth together, a noise of aggravation churned in her throat as her pride was quickly getting its head handed to her heart on a silver platter.

The breaking point was the soft mews still coming from the floor. They were hungry, and the best thing for them was to go to the bathroom and then eat.

Full bellies, but empty bladders.

"Fine," Helga forced out between her teeth and she jerked around, grabbed the wipes and flipped open the lid. "But you owe me, Football head."

An hour later, all three of the kittens were contently sleeping in their warm, soft box. Helga had left immediately to scrub her hands once Arnold was sure he could put the babies back into their makeshift nest by himself. Offering her a drink after she exited the bathroom, she agreed and followed the male down the stairs. When Arnold pulled a Yahoo soda out for her to take, Helga nearly went green at seeing the brown liquid. Chuckling, he opted to give her a bottle of water instead.

"So," Stella questioned, pouring out the hot water from her noodles, "How was it? Is it as much fun as you thought?"

"I don't know, I don't think I really thought about it before," her son answered honestly.

Helga's mouth twitched a bit when the question was directed her way.

"I have learned more than I ever thought I would about the genitals and digestive system of a cat," she dead panned, lip still ticking.

Arnold choked on his soda, and doubled over in attempt to keep the liquid from coming up through his nose as he tried not to laugh and cough at the same time.

Stella turned on her heel and beamed at the blonde girl. She remembered Helga from when Arnold was younger and always had a parade of children coming through the door. Though she only wore one ponytail and now had two eyebrows, the girl's feisty spirit and quirky moods were still the same as when she was a kid.

"Why don't you stay for dinner?" the woman offered eagerly.

Sucking in a deep breath through her nose and letting it out slowly through her mouth, Helga politely declined. Homework and housework couldn't be put off forever. Twisting her neck to either side, a series of pops and cracks resulted and the blonde sighed.

"Not to mention Bob would have a coronary to know I left his house unprotected for even one night while they're gone." Helga shrugged, she was used to the impromptu Olga related vacations. Ever since her parents remembered she turned thirteen, they'd been trailing after their eldest whenever possible.

"Did you just say 'by yourself'?" She questioned in a low, serious voice as she came very close to Helga.

"Y-yes, my parents are visiting my sister for a few months so I've been—"

"A few months?" Stella gaped, her hands on the younger female's shoulders. "They left you by yourself with Christmas coming up? Were they even here for Thanksgiving?"

"Uh, no..." Helga replied, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. She flicked a glance at Arnold for help but found him with the same shocked expression as his mother had worn. "Olga lives in Madrid and I had school so—"

"I can't believe it!" Arnold's mom put a hand to her forehead and the other over her heart. Then, within another tic, she was stern faced and steely eyed. "Then there is only one thing to do. You are going to stay here until they get back."

This time Arnold and Helga's mouths fell open in unison.

"It's okay! I'm really fine by my—," Helga quickly started to defend herself but Stella pointed a finger a few inches from her nose.

"Nonsense! I will not have one of Arnold's friends, especially a girl as sweet and pretty as you staying by herself for the next month or whatever when she doesn't have to! There might not be much room, but you don't take up much space so I will find a place for you!" The woman then placed her hands on her hips and gave her the mother look. "Besides, the kittens, my grandbabies, will need someone who is able to use both their hands to take care of them." With a slightly sympathetic expression and tone she gave her attention to the male, "Sorry Arnold, but it's the truth."

"I-I can just come by before and after school, really, I'm okay by myself," Helga tried.

"But I won't be! How will I be able to sleep at night knowing you are all by yourself?" Stella just grinned as Helga's mouth hung open uselessly. "So, you are staying, right?"

The girl, again, looked to Arnold for support but he was still too busy trying to process what had just been said—no, commanded.

When all the answer Helga could manage was a mute nod, Stella clapped her hands and gave an enthusiastic grin.

"Great! Then it's decided!" She then disappeared into the hallway only to come back carrying both Arnold and Helga's coats in one hand and Arnold's truck keys in the other. "She'll need to pick up some things, I'm sure. Arnold, you'll go with Helga. I expect you both," she eyed Helga warningly, "back here in an hour, okay?"

"S-sure, Mom," Arnold agreed, taking his coat and keys automatically.

Five minutes later, both teens were in Arnold's truck, heat blasting and radio quietly playing a jazz rendition of Jingle Bells. It took longer to get to the Pataki's residence because of the snow and ice but soon Arnold shifted the truck into park.

"What the heck just happened, football-head?" Helga finally managed to eek out.

"I—have no idea." He killed the motor and gave a soft chuckle as his eyes went into their normal half-lidded gaze as he turned to the girl sharing his bench seat. "You have just experienced what my Dad likes to call mom's Sergeant Stella mode. What she says goes."

Helga turned to him, her cheeks rosy from the heat so when he gave her a lazy smile, the blush blended in with it, unnoticed.

"Or stays in this case." He unbuckled, opened his door, and simply said, "Shall we?"

Helga shook her head slowly with one hand covering her face with her fingers splayed apart as she muttered about her rotten luck. Heaving a sigh, she stripped and stepped into the waiting warm spray of the shower. Her day had gone from normal, to awkward, and had finally (hopefully) ended on flat out strange.

After returning from her house with a hastily thrown together bag of clothes and essentials, Stella had strong armed the two teens and her husband into fawning over the sleeping kittens. Miles, Arnold's dad, had made the appropriate remarks of cuteness and such that he must have known would appease his wife. Then, over dinner, which had been a circus act itself with Grandma Gertie wanting to swordfight with Miles, over the last potato, Stella had brought up the question where they should put their guest.

Arnold had turned beat red and Helga found the mashed potatoes sticking in her throat, causing her to gulp down her water in order to breathe after the woman decided Helga should stay in Arnold's room.

With a sly, dare one say evil, look, Stella added they would not be cohabitating the room, but Arnold would sleep on the couch. Helga had tried, in vain, to argue she'd be fine on the couch instead, but the older woman had her defense ready.

"No, no, it makes perfect sense." the mother gave the nervous teens a beautiful smile. "Since Helga has to be the main care taker she should be the closest to the babies, and I think Arnold still has his old Walkie-Talkie set so you two can communicate no matter where in the house, and there is a small space heater so neither you nor the kittens have to ever be cold!"

"And Arnold can make the milk for them and carry it upstairs. His wrist is fractured, not his leg." Taking a small bite of her chicken, she chewed thoughtfully, and then, after she swallowed, looked toward her husband. "It's the perfect plan, isn't that right, Miles?"

Miles, busily defending his green potato from his Gertie's knife on one side and slapping away a Oskar's attempt to steal his biscuit, nodded, "Whatever you say, dear."

How Arnold grew up here and was normal blew Helga's mind away. Of course, the weirdness was softened and overshadowed by the overwhelming friendliness offered by the family and boarders.

Thinking about his family, the blonde's eyebrows clashed together in consideration. For someone like Helga to be bullied not once but twice in the same day by the same person, it was a new and surreal experience. Never had she been so—so considered by anyone! Her own family dismissed her most days and she had learned to do the same to them over the years. Olga had attempted to make up for their parents' lack of interest but she had been gone for three years to Madrid.

Lathering her hair with cherry blossom scented shampoo, the blonde thought about her new duties as foster mother. So far, besides the grotesque job of having to coax the kittens into cleaning out their systems, things had been pleasant.

Moving on auto-pilot, Helga finished her shower and turned off the water. After drying and dressing, she cracked her neck with a sharp jerk to the side and steeled herself for whatever might be waiting outside the bathroom door for her.

Flicking the light off in the bathroom, Helga slung her towel around her neck and stepped out into the empty hallway. She turned on her heel in the direction of Arnold's room when a finger tapped her shoulder.

With a shriek of surprise, the blonde twisted around, hand over her heart as she heaved a few deep breaths.

"What was that for, football-head?!" She snarled. "You just scared ten years outta me! Sheesh."

Arnold gave her an apologetic smile as she tried to quiet her thundering heart. A moment slipped by and after sucking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Helga turned her blue eyes to him.

"Whatdya want anyway, Arnoldo?" Before he could utter a syllable, she scowled at him and in an icy tone asked, "You weren't planning on peeking were you?"

The boy rolled his eyes and sighed, "No, Helga, I would never do that."

She dragged her eyes from his light blonde hair, down his bare chest (which she took a mental snapshot of), down his pajama pants with dancing pigs on them (to which she raised an eyebrow), to his feet, and back up again. With a wicked smile, she gave an impartial shrug as she turned on her heel.

"Too bad, you'll never know what you missed."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud when Arnold sputtered in surprise. Sashaying to the steps leading to the attic, she paused, turned and gave him a quizzical eyebrow. The male's face was an impressive shade of red and with the way he was muttering under his breath, Helga couldn't help but let her laugh out.

Clearing his throat after he regained an inch of his composure, Arnold reached out his hand and offered her a small, thick black box.

"It's the two-way radio Mom was talking about," he explained, "All you have to do is turn it on, hold down this button to talk to me. I've already set up the frequency to match up with the one I have downstairs."

"Ah," was all she could think of to say.

"Well," he rubbed the back of his neck, a lop-sided smile pulling on his lips as he caught her eye. "Goodnight, Helga."

She blinked, blushed lightly and gave him a small nod of acknowledgement before continuing her journey to his room.