AN:
This story will be a series of one-shots but will all be part of one story. Some chapters will be in third person POV, others will be in first. Sometimes you just can't fight the voices!

FIFTH GRADE

The cold night wind bit at his bruised face, his eye throbbing as blood rushed to the broken vessels, trying to heal themselves. He could barely see anything, it was so swollen shut.

What seemed like the millionth punch to his gut winded him; a cough of air forced out as he tried to gasp for breath.

"You little punk! Don't you ever talk to her again, ya got it?" Blood spat on the ground. He couldn't speak again if he wanted to.

Then there was laughter. He knew that another punch was coming when, out of his good eye, he could see the large arm swing backward.

He braced himself, tightening his eye shut. But instead of blinding pain, he felt the body of one of his attackers fall against him, crying out, and falling to the ground with a thud.

"Hey! What the hell are you assholes doing?" Knowing this particular voice, he forced opened his eye, trying to focus down at the large 9th grader at his feet. Blinking, he looked up at the laughter of the second attacker, completely ignoring his fallen comrade on the ground.

"Look, Gold-" he was cut off short when a baseball bat came flying at him. Completely unprepared, even though the same thing had just happened to his still-crying buddy, he, too, fell to the ground in a broken lump. Both boys laid there in shock and pain, crying out to the wind that their arms had been broken.

The bat came down hard again at the obvious ring-leader. "Get the hell out of here before I call the cops!" Adrenaline jumped them to their feet and they took off, insults weakly flying behind them.

The bat fell to the ground and all the boy could do was blink. The pain mixed with complete shock of knowing who had rescued him kept him to his knees. "Are you ok?" Her voice was soft, full of concern. He blinked again. Was this for real? "C'mon, we gotta get you up." As gently as she could, Helga slipped her arm around his waist, using the bat as a cane to help them up.

"What are you doing?" was his meek reply. Was this for real?

"Getting you home. You may have to get to the hospital. Is your family home?" He didn't know and so didn't answer.

The whole two blocks to his front stoop were the longest two blocks of his life. Everything hurt. He just wanted to lie down and go to sleep for the rest of the week.

Only when the front door of his house slammed open did he realize that he was finally home. Strong arms picked him up and he was carried to the front couch. There was a yell, a scream, and a commotion.

He flinched.

Blinking again, he looked up and saw his rescuer standing to the side, talking to his father. She caught his eye and walked over to him, obviously done with her side of what happened. Flipping the baseball bat onto her shoulder, she smirked down at him.

"So it looks like my job is done, then."

"Helga…Thank you…"

"Thank me when I beat you on the field next week, Tall Hair Boy. But, ya know, I still gotta keep up my reputation and all, so…let's just keep this between us, OK? I mean, we don't want everyone to think that Helga G. Pataki is some sort of vigilante or anything."

That fateful night had been a huge changing block in their lives, even if it wasn't immediately obvious. Gerald was out of school for the rest of the week that year in fifth grade. Rumors flew around the school on what had happened. He got caught stealing drugs from the mafia. Fuzzy Slippers found out that he was selling secrets to the police. He had been kidnapped by the circus.

The truth was that Gerald happened to lay his smooth charms on the wrong 7th grader. Turned out the girl was dating a freshman. Word got back to him really quick at the arcade, and the boyfriend and his goon chased Gerald down the street before catching up with him.

"Love isn't easy, my man. You think Casanova had smooth sailings at first? I tell ya, she was worth every bruise." Gerald didn't elaborate much more on it and, even though he desperately wanted to tell his best friend that the guys hadn't just left him in the alley, that Helga freaking Pataki had not only stood up for him but beat the snot out of those creeps. And probably saved him from even more unimaginable pain and possibly broken bones.

Yet, out of respect for Helga, he didn't tell him. Or anyone. But the following Monday, when he wasn't surrounded by his classmates on the playground, elaborating on his ordeal, he didn't receive one glare or snide remark from the pig-tailed girl.

And the following week, he shocked his best friend when he gave her the last tapioca pudding during lunch. His response was just a shrug. Being a gentleman impressed the ladies.

Then Rhonda's end-of-the-year party commenced. Like always, Helga and Phoebe showed up together. Gerald and Arnold had arrived about fifteen minutes earlier and even they felt they were late. Each year there were more and more kids that showed up to these parties, from various walks of life. Gerald knew that one day Rhonda would probably stop inviting kids from PS118, but until then, he was glad to meet other women that he normally would never have had the pleasure.

Arnold was off somewhere, probably trying his luck on the dance floor, when he spotted Helga sitting alone. He looked around for a moment, wondering where her main girl was, before spotting Phoebe talking to Peapod. He watched them for a moment, wondering what they were talking about but it was obvious to him, even from way over here, that it was probably something intellectual. With a shrug, he picked up two cups of punch and walked over to her.

"Thirsty?" Helga looked up at him, her arms crossed over her chest and her right leg folded over her knee and scowled. It wasn't the same mean scowl that he had seen so many times on her; the one that he hadn't seen directed his way in ages. It was definitely softer.

She took the cup and sipped. He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Helga sipping instead of chugging down punch?

"Thanks, Tall Hair Boy."

"So, any plans for the summer?" Her response was another half-hearted scowl.

"Are you trying to start a conversation with me, Geraldo? Because your chances of trying to catch any girls here are going to suck the longer you're near me." She smirked and stood, getting ready to walk away.

He shrugged. "Class bully or not, you're a girl too. And I made it my mission to talk to all of them at this party." He grinned at her, wigging his eyebrows. He was momentarily taken aback when he saw a real, genuine smile from her.

Did he just see that?

"Smooth."

"As jazz, baby!"

When she laughed, he stared at her. Now he was freaked out.

"You're lucky no one is around to hear you call me that, or else you'd have just been kissed by Ol' Betsy." She made a fist to emphasize her empty threat. The truth was, no matter how much she harassed Arnold or anyone else in their class, he didn't really feel that she was serious.

Yes, he had first-hand experience seeing her wrath and just how violent she really could be, but there was just something about it that he wasn't really afraid of anymore.

At least not after The Incident.

"So, summer. You guys going camping again?"

"Nah. Nothing like that." Her shoulders slumped a little and she looked at her cup. Obviously, something was on her mind. "Actually, I may be moving."

He stared at her for a moment. "Say what? You guys are moving?"

"I'm pretty sure I just said that, Geraldo," she scowled.

Gerald was completely lost. "Come again?"

Helga sighed and stood up to lean against the wall. "Bob's opening up shop in Kentucky so Miriam and I are moving out there to set some things up. Apparently, he thinks he can buy some horses and breed them or some stupid idea like that and Lexington is starting to become the go-to spot for distributing products. So he'll get his new store and his horses."

If it wasn't for the fact that she looked so lost, he wouldn't have believed her. Here he was, having his first actual conversation with the girl who made his best friend's life a living hell for as long as he could remember, the girl who saved him just a few months ago, and she was nonchalantly telling him that she was moving. To Kentucky!

He just stared.

The scowl deepened and she snapped at him. "What?"

"Is this for real?"

"Of course it is, Tall Hair Boy!" she snapped again. "Criminy, you think I'd make up a story like that?"

"To Kentucky."

"Doi! What, did those high schoolers knock you too hard in the head? Yes, to Kentucky! Sheesh, how else can I get it through your thick skull." She was silent for a moment. "But don't tell anyone. I haven't said anything to anyone yet, except Phoebe."

This took him by surprise. She wanted him to keep another secret? "Why not?"

"I dunno, I guess I just don't care if anyone knows." Or see everyone celebrate when she leaves. Deep down, she cared what people thought of her, especially the kids she grew up with. She didn't want to break the illusion that they were somewhat her friends.

When Arnold walked up to them, Gerald missed Helga's change in stance and the way she stood a bit straighter.

"What's going on? Hey, Helga." He eyed Gerald for a moment before looking at his tormenter, completely unsure of what was happening. Was Gerald really over here, talking to Helga of all people? Didn't Gerald hate her?

"Geeze, Football Head, is this some sort of interrogation? Am I not allowed to talk to anyone without your permission? Sheesh, I'm outta here." Helga squeezed her empty punch cup and tossed it in a bin, but not before shooting Gerald a tell-anyone-and-you're-dead look.

Gerald was a bit surprised, though. What set her off like that? If anyone could say anything about her, Helga was one unpredictable, mood-swinging chick.

Arnold just sighed and looked up at Gerald as he commented, "think she won't be so hard on you in Middle School?"

Arnold doubted it and Gerald tended to agree with him more than not.

Gerald didn't talk to Helga the rest of that night. In fact, he didn't see her again until four days later for the first game of summer at Gerald's Field. The day went fast and Helga was even meaner than normal. Even when they were winning, she insulted her teammates for being too slow.

As they were shutting down for the day, Helga was currently ripping into Curly. "Geeze, what's eatin' her?" Gerald asked to no one in particular. But Phoebe had heard.

She sniffled. When Gerald looked over at her, he frowned. "What's wrong?"

Phoebe just sniffed again and squeaked a response, just staring at Helga. "Nothing." Gerald looked between her and Helga before realization dawned on him. He lowered his head towards her and hushed his voice, not wanting to be too loud.

"Is it because she's leaving?" Phoebe shot her head up so fast that she almost connected with Gerald's nose. Her eyes were wide and glassy.

"W-what?"

"Helga told me that she's moving."

Without warning, tears started to spill from Phoebe's eyes and she nodded frantically. "Today's her last day." She didn't question him on why Helga told him, it was just a relief that someone else knew about it. It had been slowly killing her inside these last few months, her being the only one who knew about the Patakis' move.

Gerald, completely uncomfortable and not sure what to do, laid his hand on her shoulder and started to lead her away from the field. She probably wouldn't want all of their friends coming up to her, asking what's wrong. "I'm sorry. But I'm sure that she'll visit." Phoebe covered her face with her hands, starting to cry freely once they were slightly protected by the large building. "And hey! You can still write. You can be like pen pals." She just shook her head and started to cry harder.

He shifted on his feet. What was he supposed to do? Whenever Timberly cried, it was because he wouldn't do something for her or her toy broke. This was a lot more serious than that.

"What's going on?" Gerald looked over his shoulder, his hand still on Pheobe's shoulder, attempting to comfort her, and saw Arnold standing there.

"Uh…"

"Move it, Football Head!" Helga roughly shouldered Arnold and went up to Phoebe, who immediately wrapped her arms around her. Helga visibly slumped and hugged Phoebe back after dropping her catcher's equipment. Her own stomach started to flip as her eyes misted, but she refused to do this in front of Arnold. "Ah, Pheebs…"

Picking up her equipment with her left hand, she squeezed Phoebe's shoulders with her right arm and started to walk in the direction towards Helga's house. Gerald watched them retreat, feeling remorseful for Phoebe and unable to help her, and regreted making her cry. He shouldn't have said anything and just walked away. But then he would have been a shitty guy. Real men don't walk away from a lady in need.

Before they got too far, she looked over at him, "Thanks, Gerald. I owe you."

Arnold looked after them, completely stunned at what he was witnessing. "Did she just call you Gerald?"

Under other circumstances, he would have been equally shocked. But he saw what it was: Helga's goodbye. "I guess Helga has a soft side after all." Neither he nor Arnold saw Helga again before she moved away the following morning.