Hi everybody, I'm back again! This is a shorter one, three chapters, but I hope you like it anyway. Tuesday will be your update day, so check back next week for chapter 2. If you like what you read, tell me about it! Also if you happen to hate what you read, tell me about it! I love hearing from you guys. Enjoy -AG

Chapter 1: A Favor

There was no end to the lows she expected from her sister, but this was unprecedented. She'd said no in as many ways as were possible by the English language—none of them had stuck. And now, Dad was getting involved. Helga stood at the top of the stairwell glaring down at her sister below.

"It doesn't matter what you say to him, I'm not going to watch your damn kids!"

Olga clutched the black cordless phone up to her chest, her other hand hovering over the dial pad on the receiver. Mascara was starting to stream down her face as tears began to flow from her eyes.

"I don't ask you for much Helga, the least you could do is…"

"Oh bullshit. If I had a quarter for every time you've called me up for some stupid thing since you and Edgar hitched up, I'd be living it up in the Rivera!"

Olga opened her mouth in overdramatic agony and started flapping it open and closed like a fish. Half formed snivels came out instead of words.

Helga rolled her eyes. "And cut the water works already. If they didn't work when I was twelve they sure as hell aren't going to work now,"

"It's just for one night Baby Sister, please. Why won't you just say yes?" Olga said.

"Because you got yourself into this mess and you're going to have to deal with it. And in a way which doesn't involve pawning them off to me," Helga said, crossing her arms.

There were no shortage of things Helga hated about Olga, but her entitled and obnoxious triplets were at the top of the list by far. Every time Helga was reminded that she was an aunt at seventeen years old, it made her resent the brats a little more. To be fair, she had to cut them someslack—they were only five years old after all. Guilty by association. Signs of irreparable damage were already showing, but she figured there might still be time to grow out of it. The real problem though was Olga's better half, her partner both in sickness and in health, Edgar Sneeves. Edgar was the embodiment of all things snobbish and conceited—he came from money and was headed straight for more of it. He was an investment broker at a very large firm and spared no moment reminding everybody about it. He won every junior fencing, golf, and tennis match the city had to offer and could have gone pro if it hadn't been for an opening at Harvard Business. The only thing he cared more about than his trophies and diplomas was Olga—they were made for each other. Olga may have married Edgar all by herself, but it was fate at its finest that gave her three spitting images of him. He wouldn't hire a nanny, though given the amount of flaunting he did at mandatory family diners, Helga had no doubt he could afford a hundred of them if he wanted.

She held no resentment toward Olga for getting married—in fact ensuring her happiness was in Hegla's best interest. It was the pair that really got to her, the two for one deal of insatiable entitlement and haughty demanding tones. There was no consideration for anybody else, because why should there be? All who were in the presence of Olga and Edgar Sneeves were graced beyond words. It was why she hated Edgar, it was why she hated Olga, and it was why she hated the kids.

"Helga, I don't want to call Daddy. Please?" Olga sobbed.

Mascara was streaking down her face at an alarming rate.

Helga folded her arms. "You're not going to call him. Don't think he'd take too kindly to having his big meeting broken up?"

Olga's hand hovered over the dial pad.

"I can see it now, Texas Cell Phone Summit keynote speaker Big Bob Pataki cancels speech for phone call from sniveling daughter,"

Olga stared back up at her, glaring through the tears.

"All because she was too dumb to hire a damn babysitter two nights before she left town," Helga said, shaking her head.

Olga placed the phone up to her ear and dialed the first three numbers.

Helga took a step forward. "All his credibility ruined,"

She dialed the next two.

"For life!"

Olga paused and hit the last two.

"Son of a bitch!" Helga shouted and dove down the stairs.

She ran for the phone cord on the far side of the living room. She was two steps away when she paused dead in her tracks.

"Hi Daddy," Olga said.

Helga turned around and glared at her sister. Olga started laying it on thick—this wouldn't turn out well. Olga looked up finally and held the phone out.

"He wants to talk to you,"

There was no trace of sarcasm or snarky vengeance in her voice, only genuine sadness. It infuriated Hegla. She stormed over and grabbed the phone, taking it out on the porch and slamming the door.

"I don't care what she said to you, I'm not…"

'You're doing it'

"I am not! This is total bullshit and you know it. I'm not going to keep bailing her out like this,"

'Hey hey hey hey hey! You're part of this family too aren't you? We don't bail each other out, we help each other out,"

"It's on Saturday night for christsakes. What if I had plans?"

'Do you?'

"That's not the point! Besides, I can't watch three five-year-olds by myself, that's suicide,"

'So get Phyliss or Fasha or whatever to help'

"Phoebe, Dad, Phoebe. And that's not going to happen because…"

'Look, I don't care how you do it or who you get to do it with, but you're watching those kids tomorrow night. End of story. If I get back there and find out you didn't, it's…'

Helga hung up the phone. She took an angry breath and went back inside. She held the phone out to Olga, pointing its antenna at her like a knife.

"This is a one-time deal, understand? Leave the keys on my bed and I'll head over at four tomorrow. Next time you're hiring a sitter. Or, oh here's a thought, you could actually be a Goddamn mother for once!" Helga said.

Olga squealed and jutted her arms out, heading in for a massive mascara smeared hug. Helga held the phone out towards her sister's rapidly approaching face.

"Touch me, I dare you. See what happens,"

Olga paused and slowly brought her arms back down by her sides.

"Well thanks anyway Helga. I've got to go pack, but I'll call you tomorrow,"

"Let's don't and say we did," Helga said. She stormed past Olga and went straight upstairs and slammed her door. The weekend had just ended an hour after it had begun.

The clock on her desk read 5:17, and it was officially time she started panicking. It seemed that every single person in her contact list had something going on this weekend—either that or they didn't particularly wish to spend their time off school watching triplets. Phoebe, first on her list, was in Portland at a book signing at Powel's. Sally and Sam, the English class twins, were at a wedding. Rhonda was in Aspen. Her parents were both in Texas. This left Sid—and while she certainly didn't like the triplets, she definitely didn't hate them that much. Helga sighed and jammed her phone in her pocket. She got up, grabbed her pink hoodie from the edge of the bed and headed out. She decided a walk—and a smoothie—was in order to clear her mind.

She made the practiced walk down 17th Street and turned up Vine, hopping on the 29L bus for three miles. Its destination was the 'Hillwood Plaza Shoppes'—one of many strip malls in Hillwood and the main high school hangout. It was two blocks from campus and housed all manner of shops and eateries that didn't mind the angst stampede that happened from twelve to one o'clock, Monday through Friday. She got off the bus and made her way to the corner of the mall, hopping over the broken curb on her usual route through the parking lot towards Jamba Juice.

She saw him before he looked up—she always did. The approach to the building was simple; all she had to do was stay behind the orange umbrella and walk right in the door. The view was completely open but from the inside looking out, the umbrella blocked the entire lot from sight. She stood by the door for a moment and then walked in.

"Welcome to Jamba…oh hey Helga!"

Arnold waved from behind the bar. "You're kinda late today huh? Still want the usual?"

She smiled and grabbed one of the stools next to the window. "Hit me up barkeep,"

Arnold flashed her a smile before turning around and grabbing one of the blenders from a rack behind the counter. He started filling it with juices and frozen fruits.

"So how's life? Tank that Civil War test as hard as I did?" he said.

"It was ugly. Probably not as ugly as Shiloh was, but it ran a close second," Helga said.

She swiveled on the stool and took a look around the store—heading straight in under cover of orange umbrella as she usually did didn't offer up much recon on the rest of the shop. She and Arnold were the only ones there, aside from a very pimply faced kid stuffing money from the register into a comically large plastic inventory bag. She glanced at her watch—ten to six. She figured they'd be closing up soon. The sun was sitting low in the sky, casting a brilliant orange beam across the parking lot. Headlights were just starting to turn on, sending a mix of natural and electric light hurtling through the window pane wall. Helga spun back around and faced the bar.

"So listen, I've got a favor to ask you," Helga said.

Arnold shoved the scoop down in the ice bucket and flipped a ball of packed snow up in the air. He spun around, catching it with the blender in his other hand.

"That so? That's a change of pace," Arnold said smiling.

"Woah, look out Cirque du Soleil. Those silk spinners 'aint got nothing on you," Helga said.

Arnold took a small bow before jamming the blender down on its base. "I try,"

Helga cleared her throat. "Well, you know, I…"

He started the blender—the ice slammed against the plastic walls, drowning her out. Arnold turned around and started putting lids back on the fruit in the freezer base.

"So what's up? Need to borrow some more calc homework?" he shouted over the blender.

"Nope…well actually if you're offering…but no, that's not what's up," Helga said.

Arnold looked up at her expectantly.

"I know you're a busy guy, and I wouldn't ask you normally, but you're kinda last on my list,"

"Uh oh, this sounds serious," Arnold said.

"I mean, not totally. I'm kinda in a jam is all,"

Arnold stopped the blender and grabbed a cup. "I'm off in ten. Wait for me out back,"

Helga nodded and grabbed her cup.

"Adios and vaya con dios," She said, opening the door.

"In a while crocodile," Arnold shouted back.

Helga walked around to the back of the store and sat down on the loading dock. She took a sip from her smoothie and sighed. Say what you wanted about Arnold Short, but he did know how to make a damn good drink. She looked up at the vibrant orange sky and focused in on a vapor trail out toward the west. She could just make out the faint dot of the jumbo jet spawning the long white tear across the sky. It was probably headed to Canada or maybe Alaska Helga thought—she wished she was on it. No kids to deal with then.

The back door swung open.

Arnold stepped out and plopped down next to Helga on the loading dock.

She was still looking up at the sky. "What up Short,"

He was holding a massive smoothie cup—he took a big swig and shrugged.

"By far, the best part of this job. We keep any drink orders that get screwed up,"

"Oh the luxurious life of a Jamba Juicer,"

He took off his orange visor and ran a hand through his hair. "So what's up?"

"The sky. And that plane up there in it. Funny thing? My sister's probably on it as we speak,"

Arnold nodded and took another pull from the cup. Helga sighed and looked over at him.

"So you know she's got three kids right?"

"Uh, yeah I think you mentioned that a few times?" Arnold said.

"You off tomorrow night?" Helga said.

Arnold frowned. "Yeah, but I'm not following you at all,"

"I'm being forced to play Mary Poppins to these brats because Olga just decided it'd be great to just up it and take off for the weekend with her beloved shithead. I'm tough, but not three toddlers on solo mode tough,"

Arnold nodded, straw sticking out the corner of his mouth.

" Now I'll pay you. I was scrounging around and found like thirty bucks, it's not really…"

Arnold gulped. "Wait wait wait. You want me to help?"

Helga smiled weakly.

"Jeez Helga, I don't know anything about watching kids! I mean…" He laughed. "What's Phoebe doing?"

"She's in Oregon," Helga said.

Arnold shook his head and started to speak.
"Rhonda's in Aspen, and the twins are in Napa. My parents are in Texas. You are literally the last person on my list Football Head," Helga said.

He pushed his bangs back and blinked. "So what do you want me to do exactly?"

"All we gotta do is deal with them for one night. Basically just cram some food in them, toss water on 'em and throw them in the beds," Helga said.

Arnold shook his head. "I think it's a little more than…"

"They're five. They'll be out by like seven thirty and you'll be home by nine. Ten at the latest. Please Arnold,"

Now he was the one looking up at the sky.

"My dad's forcing me to do it, and trust me, I don't want to do it any more than you do. I hate kids. But like I said, there's thirty bucks in it and we can probably raid Olga's cabinets for whatever. Lord knows they've probably got some fine ass stuff in there,"

Arnold sighed. "No you don't have to pay me. Gah, fine. I'll do it, but you owe me big okay?"

"I always do," Helga said.

Arnold looked at her for a moment and then started laughing. "I cannot believe I'm doing this. What time and where?"

"I'll text you the address later. Meet me at her place at five tomorrow. Out by ten, I promise," Helga said.

She stood up and walked back out towards the parking lot. Arnold was still sitting on the loading dock when she paused to look back.

"I seriously owe you huge. Like…well, yeah you know. You're really saving my ass here,"

Arnold waved. "Yes I do. Yes I do,"

Helga stood on Olga's porch, looking up at the massive building with full knowledge of the impending doom that was to come. She leaned up against the black marble and wrought iron stairwell and waited for Arnold to arrive. The house was a massive Victorian in a neighborhood of equally massive Victorians—this one though was of course the biggest and most lavish. There were only two units in the building and the Sneeves had the penthouse (it even said so on their mail slot). It sat on the very top most part of the Hillcrest District, one of the highest and most beautiful parts of Hillwood. The afternoon sun was arcing over the skyscrapers, bouncing its harsh beams against the glass creating a spectacular beacon shining perfectly over the stunning view of the city below. Helga found herself in complete disbelief every time she came up here—she just couldn't figure out how a city could look so beautiful, and how her own sister could be so cavalier about it. She'd never seen an ugly sight from Hillcrest but Olga and Edgar never really seemed to notice.

She spun around when she heard a deep car engine cough and rumble up to the curb. A very old and beat up military green Packard rolled in the driveway and sputtered out. Helga smiled as Arnold stepped out of the car and slammed the door. She never really saw him at school and she'd almost forgotten what he looked like out of his work uniform. Jeans and a blue plaid shirt with Oakleys was a much better tradeoff than orange and tan Jamba gear. It was self serving yes, but she was really glad he agreed to come. Their dynamic had changed significantly over the years, but for Helga it had all pretty much stayed the same on the inside. The outward hostility died down with age, and she traded personal attacks for general all-purpose snarkyness. Her heart still fluttered every time she ran into him, but she figured if nothing happened by now, it wouldn't anytime soon. High School had thrown them in separate class pools and to greatly strained emotions. She had a harder time adjusting than most, but she dealt with it. They never saw each other much anymore, and she didn't hunt him down like she would have a few years ago. He was part of the scenery now instead of the destination. She never turned down the chance to see him—berries and sorbet weren't the only sweet things about Jamba Juice—but it was more to chance. It was less stressful, and she figured that was probably a good thing.

Arnold stepped out of the driver's side, looking at his phone. The sun bounced off his sunglasses when he stepped out the car, blending him in with the orange glow of the Hillcrest afternoon.

"I'm cool in the driveway right? I didn't think I had the right address, I knew that…"

He stopped mid sentence as his eyes slowly left the screen and went up to the house. He looked at Helga and then back to the house, his mouth hanging open.

"Your sister lives here?" He said.

"Welcome to the luxury deck," She said flatly.

Arnold took off his sunglasses and shook his head slowly. "Do they rent it or…?

His voice trailed off. Helga smiled and let him gaze at the luxurious monstrosity.

"When you think about it, doesn't really matter really does it?" Helga said.

Arnold shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you're right,"

She waved him over. "Come on. Let's get this shitshow started, shall we?"

Arnold walked up the stairs as Helga hefted her pink backpack over one shoulder. She hit the door to the lobby and pressed the buzzer. The doorman answered after one ring.

"Mary Poppins and Bert here for number one," Helga said.

There was a pause followed by a muted buzzer. The glass pained door clicked open and Helga went in. Arnold shut the door behind him and tried to act normal as they walked up the marbled stairs. The interior of the lobby was ten times nicer than the front outside. Redwood paneled walls gave way to intricate black stone crown molding on the baseboards, sloping down gracefully to the immaculately waxed hardwood floors. Wrought iron chandeliers hung from the ceilings, casting a warm glow throughout the entire lobby backed up by blown glass sconces on the walls. It was simple and elegant, shying away from the gaudy self-indulgent theme of the rest of the neighborhood. Minimalistic in all the right places with sweeps of modern flair—it screamed money.

Helga made a left at the top of the stairs and made the short walk to the double door entrance of the penthouse. She buzzed once and the door swung open. Olga sprang out and embraced Helga in the biggest and most engrossing hug possible.

"Baby Sister!"

"Oh Jesus Christ!"

Helga shoved her off, and she took a step back in the foyer with a huge smile.

"And who's this?" Olga said.

Arnold smiled and took a step forward. "I'm Arnold, one of Helga's friends. I'll be helping out tonight, if that's alright that is,"

"Of course it is! If my baby sister trusts you then that's good enough for me. They can be a handful sometimes, so I'm sure she'll appreciate the help," Olga said.

She spun around and walked back inside, motioning for them to follow.

"Yeah well appreciate this," Helga said under her breath.

Arnold chucked and followed them both inside, shutting the door behind him. Olga was prattling away from the kitchen as they walked inside.

"I'm actually running a bit late, so I have to get going pretty soon. Helga knows where everything is though, so you shouldn't have much trouble at all,"

Arnold had just gotten over the lobby and now he was thrust back into disbelief all over again. The apartment was simply stunning. It looked like it came right out of a set of magazines—design from Architectural Digest with furniture from Restoration Hardware.

"I was able to arrange for a sitter after all, so you'll just have to deal with them tonight. She'll be here tomorrow morning. Helga knows all about the boys' bedtimes and all that. I've left groceries for their dinner out on the counter, so you'll just have to toss it in a pan real quick…"

The ceilings were easily thirteen feet tall, with recessed track lighting covering only the most flattering areas. This was like nothing he'd ever seen in person before—it made Rhonda's house look like a Motel 6.

"I just can't believe how much plane tickets to France are these days. I thought about only going for a round trip from Paris, but who has the time for that? Spending the layover in Nice is just far more sensible…"

There were eight skylights…he counted.

"Oh, my cab's here!" Olga squealed, glancing at her phone. "I'll go get the kids,"

Helga had crossed over to the kitchen and was waist deep in the stainless steel French door refrigerator. She leaned out, kicked the door shut and went to lean against the counter.

"Hey space cadet, catch," Helga said.

She threw Arnold a can of Coke and hopped up on the counter.

"Load up now, you'll need it. This'll be the longest night of your life,"

Arnold caught the can, snapping him out of his trance. "Come on, they can't be that bad,"

Helga laughed as Olga rounded the corner.

"Boys, meet Arnold. He's going to be helping Aunt Helga watch you. You treat him like you would her alright,"

"Ooh, bad idea," Helga said under her breath.

Three five-year-olds were staring back up at them, shifting their eyes from Helga and back to Arnold. Olga took a step back, beaming.

"This is Hunter, Blake, and Tyler," She said as if listing off periodic elements of precious metals. She leaned down and kissed each of them on the head before turning on her heels and heading for the door. She grabbed her Dolce and Gabbana handbag and waved, and with that she was off to France for the weekend.

Chapter 2: 6/25/13