#ayoo Jimmy neutron ref in the first bit :P

[10monthsandoneday-blog]

Shortaki Week, Day 5:

Discovery / Explosion / Music

Also on Ao3 First, Previous Word count:  7745 (haha whoops, I wrote a novella bc i really couldn’t stop writing, and also as a birthday present to myself) Disclaimer: This is technically an episode rewrite (of Egg Story), but I think I’ve only got a few lines of dialogue directly pulled from the episode and they’re all in the first bit. It veered in a different direction almost from the beginning.  Also...There are two poems in the second half of this, that I wrote myself. mainly bc i love getting inside Helga’s head. seriously i have an entire doc just dedicated to poems from her POV

“Arnold, there you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

There was a smile on Helga’s face, a real one, unmean and everything, and Arnold’s resolve to lay down the law with Helga wavered. But he held steadfast for the moment. “Look Helga, before you say anything, I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been thinking, and if we want to work together on this egg project, then we have to--” He paused. Something had finally passed through his head. “Did you just call me Arnold?” he blurted.

“W-well, that’s your name, isn’t it?” Helga’s smile looked a little frail around the edges and she laughed nervously. She was running a finger on top of the egg, over and over. On anyone else, it would be a definitely be a anxious action. But Helga?

“Well, yeah, but you don’t use it very often. Usually it’s Football Head, or Hairboy, or Paste-for-brains, or--”

“I know!” She said loudly, kicking at the seat in front of her. Arnold gave her a disapproving look. He was reminded of what he’d been trying to say before he’d interrupted himself, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Helga got there first.

“Look, A-Arnold. Don’t….don’t read into this too much, but I thought, just for the duration of this project, I might t-try and be n--ni--ni--” She couldn’t seem to get the word out. Arnold took a guess, deciding to be hopeful.

“Nice?”

She snapped her fingers with her free hand and grinned nervously. “That’s the word! I’m gonna try and be nice to you--f-for the sake of our pretend baby, of course.”

There was a weird flutter in Arnold’s stomach at Helga using ‘our’ and ‘baby’ in the same sentence. He decided it was probably fear and packed the thought away. “You’d really be nice?”

“For the sake of the egg. And our grade.” She fidgeted some, though her grip on the egg remained gentle. She looked at him from under lashes and gave a small sigh. “Look, I’ll level with you Arnoldo, I swear I’ll do my best to be nice, if you’ll give me a chance.” She gave a hopeful look, complete with that smile she kept giving. It was the one he’d seen a few times last week, when she’d given up on being the It Girl.

“You swear?” he confirmed.

She traced an X over her heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Arnold nodded and finally smiled at her. If anything, at this, she seemed to brighten a little. It was probably just a coincidence though. “So, how are we going to do this?”

“Well, first of all, your place or mine?” She grinned, eyes sparkling at some secret joke with herself. He didn’t get it, but he continued to smile anyhow. Honestly, he was just happy she was okay with the idea of coming over to his house.

“How about my house this afternoon? Then tomorrow we could go to yours. And then back to mine on Sunday.”

Helga nodded, face still lit up with a smile. “I’ll take it home with me tonight and tomorrow, and you can have the egg on Sunday night.”

“Sounds good.” He looked up as the bus came to a stop. “This is where I get off, let’s go Helga.”

She followed after him. One of her arms was swinging, but the arm that held the egg was held carefully against her chest. “Sure thing, Football Head.”

Arnold stopped and looked at her as they stepped off the bus. He was, once again, reminded that he really had intended to talk with her about the whole bullying thing. But, was he really okay with rocking the boat? After all, she seemed so pleasant right now, and it was just a nickname….even if she usually used it in a hurtful context.

He compromised with himself as the two of them began making their way towards the boarding house. “Hey, besides, well, the obvious, why do you call me Football Head?”

To his utter astonishment, Helga blushed. Then she seemed to fight back a grumpy look and turned away from his face as she spoke. She traced gentle circles on the surface of the egg. “It’s….it’s a--a bad habit, okay?”

Arnold raised a brow. “What?” he asked incredulously.

She huffed. “Look, I said I was going to try and be nice, not that I was going to spill my guts to you about every single minute detail of my life.”

And there was the angry defensiveness he’d been expecting since they got the egg. He regretted asking. “Sure, okay.”

They walked in silence for a moment that seemed to stretch for hours, until finally Helga groaned and stopped. “Okay look, the truth is….I have a habit of nicknaming people and not being able to un-nickname even if they’re my f--f--friends.” She gave a harsh laugh. “Took me a whole month to stop calling Phoebe ‘Glasses’ when we became friends in first grade, and I hadn’t said much more than ten words to her in the three years we’d been in the same class.”

There was a dawning of understanding in Arnold’s mind. “And since it’s been six years, it’s even harder for you to stop doing it now.”

She nodded, looking the slightest bit guilty. When she spoke next, it was a mumble. “And, hey….it’s not necessarily because I think you look weird or anything….” With that said, she sped up her walking.

Arnold tilted his head. “What do you mean by that?”

Helga giggled nervously. “Oh! Look! We’re here at your house!” She ran up the stoop. “Let’s start this egg project of ours.”

Arnold decided to put the moment behind them, to think on it later.

Once they were situated in the living room, Helga handed the egg off to Arnold. She pulled the assignment paper out of her bag and put it on the coffee table so they could both look at it. “So, Simmons wants us to have the egg with one of us 24/7, but it would be stupid to just have it in our hands the whole time. We should make a box for it.”

Arnold passed the egg back and forth between his hands. “Why?” he asked curiously.

He got a flat look in return. “Because parents can’t have their babies in their hands all the time either.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” Arnold said brightly.

Helga opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again, hard. After a moment, she spoke. “Sorry, I was about to say something mean. Let’s go put together this box.”

He patted her back as they stood up. “The point is, you stopped before you did. I’m proud of you and I think you’re doing a pretty good job at being nice.”

She stiffened, her face pinking again, and her hand shot up to clutch at something at her neckline. “Thanks. Hey, um, is there a bathroom around here?”

At that moment the door to the hall bathroom opened and Grandpa came out, grinning. “Oh, I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

Helga slumped, her hand falling to hang limply at her side. “Nevermind,” she muttered.

Arnold was about to tell her about the bathroom upstairs, when Grandpa suddenly stopped and peered at Helga. “Hey, you’re that little girl, Arnold’s friend….uh….” He thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers. “Helga! That’s your name.”

Helga nodded silently, staring at him. She seemed to be nervously waiting for him to say something in particular. Then Grandpa winked at her and she relaxed. “Thanks for letting me come over, Mr….?” Again, she seemed to be wanting him to say something in particular.

Grandpa just grinned. “Just call me Grandpa.” He shot a flat look up the stairs. “Everyone else does.”

Helga slumped again. “Okay.”

Though somewhat confused by the odd exchange, Arnold moved the conversation along. “Hey Grandpa, do we have any old shoe boxes that we could use for our egg?”

“‘Course!” The elder looked at the egg in Arnold’s hands and then between the two of them. “Ah, the old egg project.” His grin got wider. “Which means the two’a you are its parents. Aww, isn’t that sweet.”

Arnold’s face got hot, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Helga’s face too. If her’s got any redder it would burst into flames. But she didn’t burst out with a rebuttal like he thought she would. She was probably too embarrassed to say anything. “Grandpa,” he groaned.

“Okay, okay, I’ll butt out.” He winked at Arnold. “Just remember what I told you last month.”

“What?”

Grandpa stared at him in disbelief, before smacking a hand to his head and walking off, muttering something that sounded like, “Denser than I ever was, that’s for sure. Poor girl….”

He didn’t get it. But he did still need that box, so he called out for his grandpa again.

“The boxes are in the hall closet,” the man called back.

Arnold turned back to Helga, laughing apologetically. “Sorry about my grandpa, he can get a little….” He searched for the correct word.

“Zany, yet lovable?” Helga said, beginning to smile again. Arnold smiled back at her, passing her the egg so he could go rifle through the hall closet.

Once they’d gotten a box, they put together a small nest of rags and fresh tissues and a handkerchief Arnold was almost certain was his grandma’s. Then they put the egg in its new bed and stepped back to look at it.

“Looks cosy,” Helga said, looking satisfied.

“Yep. What do we need to do now?” Arnold asked, almost eager to continue now. He was actually having a lot of fun with Helga as his partner. When she wasn’t being a pain, she was really kind of cool.

“Well, we do need to answer the Day 1 questions,” Helga said picking up the assignment paper and trading it with him for the box.

“What is your egg baby’s name and gender?” He looked at Helga. “What do you think?”

Helga smirked at the ground. “It’s the dude who decides it, bucko,” she murmured.

“Huh?”

“Ohh, nothing. How about a girl?” She ran a hand over the back of her head. “We could name her, oh, I don’t know, Elissa. Elissa Eleanor.”

“Okay, but why--” He wanted to know her reasoning behind the egg’s name. It was oddly specific. “Nevermind.”

“Yup, Elissa Eleanor….” She trailed off, looking at him meaningfully.

“What?”

“What’s the kid’s last name?” she snapped.

Arnold shrugged. “She could just take your last name: Elissa Eleanor Pataki.” He smiled. “Has a nice ring to it.”

She was beginning to look pink around the edges again, but she was scowling. “Believe me, Arnoldo, you don’t wanna brand our kid with the Pataki name--it marks you for life.”

It was clear from the way she spoke that it was not a positive. He wanted to ask her about her family, but from all the times he’d tried it the past, it didn’t tend to go well. He held his tongue. Instead, he looked back down at the paper, beginning to fill in the answer. “Okay, Elissa Eleanor Shortman it is.”

There was a squeak from Helga’s direction and Arnold stopped writing and looked up at her. “Something wrong?”

“Nope.” Her voice was high pitched and wavery but she waved him off. “Next question.”

He shrugged. Girls were weird. “What are some things that parents need to prepare for the arrival of a child? What are some things you and your partner have done?”

Helga sat back against the legs of the couch, deep in thought. Arnold did his best to think as well. He figured, once they’d both thought a bit, they could compare their thoughts and write down both.

Arnold sighed. He didn’t have the most typical of upbringings. But his parents had been around until he was almost two, so they had done the part of the raising he and Helga were having to simulate.

Helga was the first one to speak. “Love,” she said quietly, melancholic, her hand brushing the rim of the box and her eyes locked onto the egg. “A baby needs all the love and attention it can get.”

Arnold nodded, giving her an encouraging smile. “And you’ve barely taken your eyes off the egg since we got it.”

Helga grinned shyly. “Well, you did most of the putting together of the box.”

“So, a place to live and sleep for both questions,” Arnold agreed. “That also falls under keeping them safe. Kids need that too. Like, my parents moved back to Hillwood because we were living in the jungle and that wasn’t safe for me.”

Helga went wide eyed. “You weren’t born here?”

Arnold. “Not if what my Grandpa says is true.”

She stared at him for a long moment, looking struck by the discovery. Finally she shook her head. “You’re right though. Now, what’s the next question?”

Arnold shook his head. “That’s it for tonight. The other questions are for tomorrow and Sunday.”

“Kay then.” She shot a quick look towards the living room clock. “It’s getting pretty late, I’d better head home.” She got up, slinging her backpack on and gathering the box with their egg into her arms.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Arnold asked, before she could take more than a few steps towards the hall.

She turned, considering him. Then she shook her head, giving him a grim smile. “Nah. Thanks, but I’d better go make sure Miriam’s eaten something. See ya.”

Then she was gone.

A few minutes after she had gone, Arnold’s grandpa came into the living room and sat down beside him. He patted the boy on his back. “She gone home?”

“Yeah….” He looked up at Grandpa. “Girl’s are kind of complicated, huh Grandpa?”

Grandpa cackled. “More than you know, Shortman, more than you know.”

---

Arnold met up with Helga at noon the next day, outside her house.

“Aren’t we going in?” he asked, as Helga climbed down her stoop to stand beside him, egg box in hand.

She shook her head. “It’s a nice day today. Let’s take a walk, go to the park or something. That’s what real parents do, right?”

Arnold shrugged. “I guess.”

They shared a commiserating moment, and Arnold thought back to the past Thanksgiving, when they had both bonded over having abnormal family lives. But, while Arnold had grown closer to his boarding house family as a result of that excursion, it seemed as though Helga was back to the relationship she’d had with her family prior to it. He felt sadness settle like a stone in his stomach.

Doing his best to break his own suddenly dour mood, Arnold looped his arm through Helga’s, taking the egg box from her. “We can go hang out under my favorite tree, there’s always a good sunspot there.”

Helga, surprisingly enough, didn’t pull away from him. Arnold felt it best not to ruin the moment, so he didn’t point it out. It was a nice walk, with a few calm words spoken between them.

Once they arrived at the park, they decided to take the long way around to Arnold’s tree. It was, as Helga had said, a nice day. The sun beat warm on their backs, pleasant but not overbearing. There was bird song in the air and in faint distance, the merry tinkle of the ice cream truck.

So, of course, such a nice day couldn’t last.

“Hey, Arnold!”

Arnold and Helga’s eyes cut from where they had been looking at each other and towards the location of the voice.

Phoebe and Gerald were walking towards them, pushing something that looked almost like a baby carriage, if a lot smaller than the real thing. It was very pink. Arnold thought he might have recognized it from somewhere.

“Hi guys,” Arnold greeted, smiling at the two. They looked very cozy together.

“Baby carriage,” Helga said blankly, as though she was trying to wrap her mind around it.

Gerald scowled at her. “Yeah it’s my sister’s stroller. I see you’re making Arnold do all the work here.”

“Oh, no Gerald, I--” Arnold tried to interject, to correct the misunderstanding. It would be such a disaster if, after almost two days, all he and Helga’s pleasant lack of animosity went out the window.

Surprisingly (Helga was surprising him a lot lately), she kept her temper. “It’s cool Arnoldo, I know how it looks.” She grinned at the other couple (of kids. Not couple as in dating, because otherwise it would imply that Helga and Arnold were a couple and--). “I was just thinking, that stroller’s a pretty smart idea. It would’ve saved our tired arms from having to switch who’s holding the box.” She grinned at Phoebe. “What’s the kiddo’s name?”

Phoebe beamed at her friend. “His name is George,” she said brightly.

Helga’s smile got wider. “Oh, cool, after your Granddad right?”

The smaller girl nodded emphatically. They seemed to silently communicate (and once again, girls were so very odd and Arnold didn’t understand them at all).

“Hey, Pataki, I’m sorry for accusing you,” Gerald muttered after watching the two for a moment.

Helga waved him off. “It’s fine Geraldo. I’ll tell you what I told Arnold. For the duration of this project, I am being nice. It’s a get out of jail free card or whatever.” She smirked. “And, hey, our kids would probably end up best friends, so we might as well do a truce.” She fluttered her eyes in jest. “For the sake of the children~!”

Arnold laughed cheerfully. “Hey, you guys wanna come with us? We were going to go sit under the tree with the good sunspot.”

Gerald rolled his eyes but gave him a fond look. “Nah, we’re gonna go back to Phoebe’s house. We were gonna finish up our math and English homework.”

Helga raised her brow and turned to stare down Phoebe, who seemed a little pink. Politely, Arnold decided not to say anything. “Okay, have a good time. See you on Monday.”

As soon as they were out of earshot of the other two, Helga burst into giggles. “Phoebe always does her homework a week ahead, she’s just using that as an excuse.”

Arnold blinked and then turned to look behind them, considering. “Oh. Does she like-like Gerald?”

Helga scowled. “Don’t use that phrase, please. I can only be so nice. And don’t tell her I told you. She never actually said anything, but we kind of have a mutual understanding when it comes to crushes. Like me, with--” She cut herself off, putting her face in her hand. “Pretend I stopped talking, like, two sentences ago.”

“Whatever you say Helga.”

Huh.

So, Helga had (or at one time had) a crush.

He didn’t know why that bothered him so much. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see her like-liking someone. He just--

“Sound like she likes ya Arnold--she’s always picking on you in particular--”

He shook his head roughly. No way. No chance. Not possible.

“Something wrong, Arnold?”

Helga’s voice was soft with worry. He gave her a meek smile. “Nah, I’m fine. Look, there’s the tree.”

The two of them sat beneath it, placing the egg box between them. Helga leaned back against the bark, crossing her legs. Arnold mimicked her.

“So, how do you think everyone else is doing?” Arnold asked, doing his best to keep his mind off the thoughts he’d just been having.

Helga shrugged. “Well, for starters, I wouldn’t be surprised if Harold’s eaten his and Rhonda’s egg.”

“Helga!” His tone was disapproving.

She grinned unapologetically. “I bet you a dollar.”

Arnold was silent.

“You don’t want to take the bet do you?” she snorted. “‘Cuz you know it’s a chump’s bet.”

“Two dollars,” he said finally. “And you have to keep up our truce for another whole week if I win.”

She crossed her arms, her face pleased as punch. “And when Harold does eat their project?”

“I’ll do something you want me to do--within reason,” he added, when she turned to give him an ecstatic (and, frankly, evil) smile.

“Deal.”

They sat under the tree for at least another hour. The time was a pleasant thing to spend. He liked having conversations with Helga that didn’t involve her threatening to punch his face in.

Her house was silent when they arrived there. Helga didn’t look the least bit surprised by this. “Miriam’s probably asleep on the couch, but don’t worry about being quiet, she could sleep through Armageddon.”

He glanced warily at the living room, but followed her readily into the kitchen.

“You want lunch? I made three cheese chilli mac last night for supper and we have leftovers.”

“I don’t want to intrude--”

“Dude, it’s just chilli mac, I’m not breaking open a bottle of 200 year old wi--uh, sparkling cider.” She handed off the egg box, opened up the fridge and pulled out a tupperware. “Plus, it’s past lunch, I’m hungry, and you’ve gotten to me enough that I’ll feel guilty for eating in front of you.”

Arnold smiled. “In that case, I’d love some.”

She heated the pasta up and they sat down. The egg box sat between them in a chair. She served the food between the two of them, giving Arnold the bigger portion.

“Helga, you don’t have to do that!”

She shrugged. “You’re the guest, you’re my pretend husband, and I’m not actually all that fond of mac and cheese.” Her mouth quirked. “Between you and me (meaning don’t tell anyone or I might actually punch you), I’m kind of lactose intolerant.”

He was trying not to blush at the pretend husband comment--he was probably failing. There was more important things to focus on though. “But you drink milk all the time!”

“And then my stomach feels like I have giant pop rocks in it, that’s just the way it works.” She stabbed her fork into a noodle nonchalantly. “Helga the bully can’t be lactose intolerant. Nerds are lactose intolerant.”

He gave her a flat, unimpressed look. “I think I remember having a similar sort of conversation like this with Rhonda.”

Helga snorted. “Oh, I’m a geek, I embrace that fully. But nerds are the ones that have to be scared for themselves and I can’t afford to be scared, I’m already--” She cut herself off, stabbing several more noodles and shoving them into her mouth. “Eat your food Arnold. We aren’t teaching our child to waste.”

Heat went up Arnold’s neck, over his ears and cheeks, and settling somewhere around his forehead. He was starting to think that she reveled in his blushing. And he didn’t know what was worse--the normal kind of teasing, which kind of hurt sometimes, or this new kind of flirty teasing (because that’s all it was. She couldn’t like him. And pretending wasn’t nice).

“You’re hilarious Helga,” he said, deadpanned. And he decided to return serve--see if she liked it. “If she gets your sense of humor from you, I’m going to pity poor George--since he’s probably going to be front and center for all her jokes.”

And, like he had hoped, she did blush. “Just shut up and eat.”

“Whatever you say Helga.” Feeling just a tiny bit smug, Arnold finally took a bite. His eyes went wide and he stared at Helga.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Helga...this is good. Did you make it from scratch?”

Her blush from moments before came back with a vengeance. “Yeah. Have to feed myself somehow.”

He tried to ignore the sad context and instead beamed at her. “Well, now we know that Elissa will be well fed too.”

Okay, so maybe he was getting a bit into the whole pretend baby, pretend couple thing too. He couldn’t help it. This version of Helga--so rarely seen, was so interesting and he liked her. And it was nice to see her blush.

After they finished eating, Arnold followed Helga up to her room.

“So, today’s questions,” Helga prompted. “I looked at them, and I thought, maybe we could do separate answers for them.”

“What, why?”

She crossed her arms defensively, leaning against her closet door. “Because. I have lots I wanna say and I don’t want you crowding in on my space.” She gave him a look that might as well have said, ‘You wanna make something of it, buddy?’

Arnold sighed. “Whatever you say Helga…”

Later, as he settled on Helga’s floor to write out his answers, he chanced a look at Helga, who was staring intensely at her own paper. She was frowning, brow furrowed, and her shoulders were tensed. Whatever she was writing, it was clearly bothering her to do so.

Arnold looked down at his own paper. After 24 hours, how do you feel about having responsibility for the egg baby?

How did he feel?

He….he liked it. He and Helga had, well, they had bonded over their hypothetical child. It had given him an insight into her that he never would have gotten if he hadn’t allowed her the chance to be the good person he always knew she was. And he wouldn't have realized…..

Helga would make a good mom, one day….

He wrote the thoughts down, something like happiness beginning to bubble in his stomach. After he had written a sufficiently sized paragraph, he looked at the other two questions on the list. One of them was for the next day so he focused on the other.

After two days, how do you feel about your responsibility? Each partner should answer this question by themselves.

Arnold began to jot down his thoughts as Helga suddenly rose to her feet. She waved off his concerned look. “I’ll be back. Don’t go in my closet or I’ll end the truce faster than you can blink.”

“I won’t look in your closet,” he promised her.

He watched her leave, then looked towards where she’d left her homework folder sitting open on her bed.

He wondered what she’d been writing about, to give her such a grave face. Did she think things were going terribly? Did she regret their being paired up, what with him asking so many questions?

….he wanted to know.

Arnold eyed the opened door, silently getting to his feet. He tiptoed over to the bed and looked down. There were a few loose slips of paper out of the folder’s sleeve. He picked them up.

The first paper didn’t even look like their assignment. Had she given up on writing it? Or was she already finished? He gave a quick glance at the other paper, which did indeed look filled in.

That was the paper he wanted to look at, of course, but this first paper…

Arnold was so curious. He couldn’t help himself. Almost against his will, his eyes began taking in the words.

Helga G. Pataki Mr. Simmon’s Class Creative Writing Assignment

Your Music By anonymous

I see music behind my eyelids when you’re around Though there is nothing and no one that’s making the sound Your laughter might the be tinkling of piano keys Like the kind I play when there’s nobody around who sees Your smile is even more beautiful than your laughter The zip of a bow down a viola, like the kind composers would be after

The music I see in my eyes is your soul, I know it The beauty is beyond what I found elsewhere, nothing else can ever fit. Sometimes when I dream at night, I hear the music aloud And I watch an orchestra play your song, watched by the very biggest crowd If the world could see what I see when I look at you, my dearest Then they too would hold you to their heart the nearest.

The music changes sometimes, Jazz or Opera or Country But though the tune rearranges itself, it’s still the same beautiful melody I would sing its harmony if I were braver than I can be I’d show the world your wonder and your soul, bright where everyone can see The music that I see, the one that comes from you, is as familiar as my own heart For my own soul has shared that song, since the very first start.

Well, if he wanted confirmation that Helga had a crush on someone, here it was, in her loopy, purple cursive. Not to mention, her hereto now unknown talent in writing.

And, once again, his feelings were mixed on the whole.

He was happy that Helga had found something she was good at, and seemed to like as well. But there was a strange feeling in his stomach and he didn’t like it--he’d felt it before, but he couldn’t remember where. He’d felt something near to it on the bus yesterday, but, looking back, that feeling was much more….positive.

He wasn’t….he couldn’t be jealous….right? Because that was just, crazy. He didn’t like-like Helga.

He didn’t. Really.

Arnold roughly shook his head and switched the papers. If he took too long, Helga was going to come back before he had time to look at the reason he was doing something like snooping in the first place.

His eyes quickly skimmed over the answers he and Helga had done together, locking on the last two that were filled out, with blocks of purple words.

After 24 hours, how do you feel about having responsibility for this egg baby?

This assignment scared made me a little nervous at first, because eggs are pretty breakable and small--which I guess was the point in the first place, since babies are too. But, your sentimental rants about teamwork must have gotten to me, because for once, I’ve been feeling pretty optimistic about this whole thing. I guess it was made a lot easier because of my partner--he’s Mr. Responsible, which means he’s the ideal parent.

Arnold stopped, feeling his face warm, a smile playing at his lips. So, he wasn’t the only one who thought their partner would make a good parent. That was nice to know.

After two days, how do you feel about your responsibility? Each partner should answer this question by themselves.

I’m going to be honest. I’ll hate myself for it, but I figure this falls under that ‘niceness’ pact that me and Arnold made.

I was, and am still, terrified out of my mind. For several reasons, all of which you already know (my writing isn’t that vague when you know my name). I might as well talk them out though. …

I don’t want to be my parents. Neither one of them have been the best example as to what a parent is supposed to do. I’ve mostly been guessing…I thought about how I would want to treat my own family, one I’d created on my own, and I just couldn’t stomach being inattentive or mean. Not for this. I think (again, being optimistic here) I’ve been doing a pretty good at keeping my meaner parts under wraps. Hopefully.

I shouldn’t have to really expand on the other reason I’m so scared. I’ve turned in enough poems that you should be more than well aware by now. (And speaking of, if I find out you somehow managed to mastermind this pair, I’m….going to be very unhappy with you). But here, since I’m not spending paragraphs waxing poetic about my partner, have an extra poem. (no reading this one out loud).

Playing House

It’s truly a dream come true for me. But for you, my dearest, it must be a horror. To be My pretend husband and to ‘Play house’ as it were, pretend it’s true, And care for any child of yours and mine.

I know it’s pretend, I know it’s not real But when you smile at me, the way I feel…. Is true as day is day, that feeling in my heart That ‘I love you’, that I’ve felt from our start, So playing house is, for me, just fine.

I’m trying to be sorry for being so happy about this That, for just a bit, I can pretend it is me and our child you could miss I want to be sorry for dreaming of a trio’s walk through a park, For wishing that my love for you could ever make a single mark Enough that, that love could create something like a child so sublime.

I’m not sorry though, as you’ve probably guessed This feeling, that these few days have been my best I can’t stop it, this elation, this overwhelming joy What I wish I could stop, was my ability to jeer and annoy For the one who has left a football shape inside my heart for all time. 

There was movement on the stairs. Arnold quickly thrust the papers back in their proper place and sat back down beside his own stuff. Just as he’d settled, Helga rounded her way into her room. He hoped his face didn’t look as warm as it felt.

She crossed her arms and raised her brow at him. “What did I miss?”

He would have to process this discovery when he alone. He would wait to confront her until he had an answer. Until then….

Arnold gave Helga a smile. “Nothing much.”

And that was the last excitement to be had until the next night--Sunday night.

Arnold had convinced Helga to stay for dinner, and so she was at his house when it happened. The one thing neither of them would have expected to happen. The egg began to hatch.

“U-um, Arnold, something is going on,” Helga said, panic in her voice and peering into the egg box on her lap.

The boy raced into the living room, hands still soapy from doing the dinner dishes. “What’s wrong?”

She beckoned him with a frantic hand. “I--I think the egg is hatching!”

Indeed, hairline cracks were beginning to appear all around the exterior of the egg. It shook and shook, until finally, a teeny orange beak began poking its’ way out. After several long moments, the baby chick’s head popped out. Arnold and Helga’s intake of breath was simultaneous.

It was a wonder, watching the little yellow thing do it’s best to rid itself of the egg shell.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Arnold felt a pang of loss for the egg itself, but it was much buried under the sudden joy.

The baby chick gave a little peep and Helga made a noise that almost sounded like a coo. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she smiled, and Arnold thought he might have saw the slightest glimmer of a happy tear. Suddenly though, fear flashed over her face and her head whipped around to look at Arnold.

“Arnold, we don’t know how to care for a baby chick!” Helga hissed, terror developing in her tone.

Anxiety curled like a sudden grease fire in Arnold’s stomach, but he forced himself to stay calm. He knew from past experience that if he freaked out, then Helga was bound to be twice as terrified. They both need to remain levelheaded.

He swallowed and spoke. “Okay, I have a pigeon coop on the roof. We’ve hatched the baby birds before, so I have a incubation sort of thing called a brooder in the basement. Grandpa can help us set it up. Um…” He tried to think. It was likely that pigeon care and chicken care were different…”What time does the library close? Seven, right?”

Helga nodded unsurely. “I think so.”

“I’ll go check out some books. In the meantime I’ll get grandma to heat a hot water bottle while the incubator warms up.” Helga still looked scared, so Arnold smiled warmly at her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Elissa will be okay Helga. Promise.”

It was a reckless promise to be had, but one Arnold felt hopeful that he could follow through on.

And so the night went on. Grandpa set up the incubator while Arnold raced the five blocks to the library. Arnold found six books on the subject of chick raising, and checked out all of them. Then he ran back to the boarding house, arms laden with the heavy books.

Within a half hour, the baby chick was safely behind the warm confines of the incubator, shuffling around on the torn up paper towels within it, pecking at the feed scattered around, and softly peeping.

The two students slumped tiredly in front of the incubator, watching the little yellow puff ball.

“How can something that tiny, be so exhausting?” Helga wondered, before she yawned widely and slumped even further down.

“I think it’s a baby thing,” Arnold guessed, catching the yawn and feeling his jaw crack a little. “I’m just glad that it’s been so hot lately. Any cooler and it would’ve been dangerous.”

Helga nodded emphatically and then blinked tiredly. She moved slowly to lean against him. He let her, watching as her head flopped against his shoulder and her eyes drooping in half-sleep. He allowed her to lay there, liking the comfortable weight on him.

She was asleep by the time Grandpa came to check on them. The elder grinned at the sight they made. He gave Arnold a thumb’s up. The boy rolled his eyes fondly.

“She fell asleep, that’s all,” he said quietly, careful not to wake the girl. “It’s been a bit of a long night.”

Grandpa gave a soft chuckle. “Oh, I know, Shortman. It’s just, it took me almost twenty years before Gertie fell asleep on my shoulder like that. Heck, we didn’t start dating til we was in our thirties.”

Arnold blinked. And then blinked again. “Wait, you and Grandma started dating when you guys were in your thirties--you’re not saying that your childhood bully is--”

“My Pookie,” Grandpa said brightly, slightly too loudly.

“Grandpa,” Arnold hissed in warning, as Helga shifted slightly. After a moment, she settled, humming contentedly in her sleep. He glared at his grandpa. “You told me that when I can’t be loud. Grandpa, that’s not fair.”

Grandpa snickered. “Oh, well, I thought maybe you might’a finally figured it out--you’ve been staring at her all night like she’s a mystery you wanna explore.”

Arnold blushed. “I--I wasn’t staring….I just….” He turned to look at Helga, her face relaxed into a content smile. He wondered if she was dreaming something nice. He hoped so. She deserved nice dreams. There was a small cough and Arnold looked back up at his Grandpa, his face growing hotter. Grandpa made a gesture as if to say, ‘you were saying?’ Arnold sighed, smiling. “I guess….maybe, if we did end up like you and Grandma, it wouldn’t be too bad. She’d make a good mom, I think….” He was back to looking at the sleeping girl fondly.

“You’re growing up, Shortman,” his Grandpa said. “I’ll be by to check on you and your little chicky later. Oh, and the baby chicken too.” He snickered at Arnold’s flat look and walked into the hall, beginning to climb the stairs. Arnold could just hear the man speak to himself. “Pookie owes me five bucks. She thought the girl’d have to confess before he figured it out.” He cackled again and was gone.

The night went by fast.

At five in the morning, Arnold awoke to the sound of panic. He couldn’t find it within himself to move just yet though. His eyes stayed closed, even as he listened.

“Why am I still in his house?” Arnold heard Helga hiss to herself. She sounded rather scared. There was a breath, as though she were trying to calm down. “Elissa. I’m here because Elissa hatched. That’s all.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself of that, rather than stating a simple fact.

With what Arnold had found out on Saturday, he thought it kind of made sense, the way she was reacting. If he had a crush--on her, as an example (just as an example)--then he had to admit, he would probably be feeling similar.

Suddenly, she shook his shoulder, hissing out his name. Arnold opened his eyes and sat up. “Helga? What’s wrong? Elissa okay?”

The frantic look Helga had had on her face immediately softened. “Yes, she’s fine.” The frenetic look immediately returned. “But I’m toast. School’s in a couple hours. I don’t have a change of clothes, or my backpack, or--”

Arnold put a hand on her shoulder and she closed her mouth. “Don’t worry, Grandpa can drive us over to your house on the way to school.”

“Don’t go out of your way for--”

“--we were gonna drive anyway, so I could bring the brooder to school. Elissa shouldn’t be out of it yet.”

Helga’s face cleared into understanding and she sat back, finally calm.

Arnold had a thought though, and frowned. “Will your parents be angry that you stayed at a friend’s house without asking?”

Helga barked out a laugh. “I doubt they even noticed.”

“But, on Thanksgiving….”

She shook her head, giving him a sad smile at his concern. “Olga was probably the one who kick started their worry. They don’t tend to notice much otherwise.” She didn’t sound mad about it, just sort of tired.

Arnold was a little mad about it though. How could they not notice their interesting and funny younger daughter? “Helga…”

Helga shook her head. “Don’t worry about Arnold. Let’s just make sure we got everything together.”

Later, as Grandpa parked the packard outside of Helga’s brownstone, her hypothesis about her parents proved correct. She was in and out of the house within fifteen minutes with nary a shout from inside--nor did she look angry when she came outside again.

Arnold secretly wished she had gotten in trouble, if only so it would prove that she had been noticed by her parents.

The drive to school was silent, but not uncomfortably so. Helga seemed to be looking over the egg-baby paper, adding in a few lines, a small smile playing on her lips. Arnold himself had looked over his own paper earlier, adding in his thoughts on the most recent developments--about Elissa and his thoughts on Helga alike.

He was rather glad, now, that Helga had requested they have separate papers. Some of his thoughts could possibly earn him an encounter with Ol’ Betsy or the Five Avengers. Or at least a warning of them.

Mr. Simmons was utterly ecstatic when they met with him before class. The room was empty--most of its students were still on the bus ride to school, while the rest played outside. So it was just the teacher and the two of them.

And Elissa, of course.

“Oh, it’s so cute,” the man cooed, observing the little chick, which was currently investigating the large marbles in the water bowl. “My goodness children, you put your hearts into this. I couldn’t be prouder!”

“Ah, Mr. Simmons?” Arnold asked. “How did we end up with a egg that would hatch?”

Helga gave the man a suspicious look. “Did you set this up?” There was a note of accusation in her voice.

Simmons shook his head, eyes wide. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t put an animal’s life at risk like that, on the chance that the two of you had lost the egg, or been unable to get it under heat in time.”

Helga let out a breath, probably of relief.

“So, um, what’s going to happen to Elissa?” Arnold found himself inquiring. Simmons gave him a questioning look. “Um, our chick. Is there a farm that can raise her?”

Helga made a soft, sad noise. Arnold glanced at her, but her face was blank. He continued speaking.

“Or would I be allowed to keep her at the boarding house?” Simmons’ eyebrows raised in shock, so Arnold explained. “We already care for a variety of animals, including a flock of pigeons. If I make sure to read up on the subject, would I be able to keep her?”

Simmons hummed. “I don’t see why not….You are one of the most responsible of all of my students.”

Helga looked at Arnold, eyes wide. “You….You would keep her? Even though, from what we read last night, it’s kind of a lot of work?”

Arnold gave her a half-lidded smile. “I can’t give up our Elissa, Helga. She’s ours.”

Helga went pink, her face flickering between pleased and just shocked.

Simmons made a happy noise and the two of them turned to look at him. He was beaming. “The two of you really took this project seriously. Do you think you learned a lot?”

Arnold nodded, smiling widely. “I really had a lot of fun and I learned plenty of good things. It was a great project, right Helga?”

Before she could answer, though, students began shuffling in the door. As he came in, Gerald went wide eyed at the sight of the brooder, and, likely, at the dark circles under Arnold and Helga’s eyes from staying up half the night. Phoebe had a similar concerned look, but the rest of their classmates seemed too caught up in themselves to notice what was going on at the front of the classroom.

Arnold turned back to see Helga was staring at him. Her mouth was opening and closing and she had a look of consternation on her face. She seemed to be trying to decide how to answer Arnold’s question. She kept glancing at the rest of the students, brow furrowed. It was clear from the look on her face that she was debating between being mean to keep her reputation safe and being nice and keeping the quiet peace the two of them had going. Finally she sighed and spoke.

“Yeah, it wasn’t half bad.” Her voice came out quiet, and, thus, no one seemed to even hear her. She breathed a sigh of relief.

The bell rang then and the duo began making their way to their desks, Arnold carrying the brooding box.

As they sat down, Helga smirked and spoke out of the side of her mouth at him. “By the way, you totally owe me two bucks and a favor. Harold clearly chowed down on his and Rhonda’s egg.”

Arnold couldn’t help but laugh.