Orange Crush

By SuperBaks

Author's Note: Hi everyone! This here was intended as a ficlet for "Glimpses" but got away from me. (I told you I tend to get rambly.) Anyway, it ended up long enough to be a one-shot all by itself. This is my first fic here where the main focus is not ArnoldxHelga. It's still a major part of the story because Istilllovethemsomuch and I have trouble letting go, but like I told you, I want to try other pairings, as well. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Hey Arnold! Is not mine. And the title was taken from the REM song- also not mine.

"I am warning you, Helga G. Pataki. You hit me and I swear to God I will press charges." Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd put her hands on her hips and threatened the girl who grabbed her by the front of her shirt, dragged her to the nearest girls' bathroom and locked the two of them in. It was a few minutes before first period.

"Knock it off, Rhondaloid," Helga snapped impatiently. She was wearing black jeans and a striped blue and gray hoodie which was zipped all the way up so that only her face was showing. She was certainly dressed like someone about to commit a misdeed.

That would have been easier for Helga. "I didn't bring you here to beat you up. I uh, need a favor."

"Oh, very funny. What are you up to this time? I'm telling you, if this is a joke-"

"Yeah yeah yeah." Helga cut her off. "There'll be hell to pay. I got it the first time, Princess. Seriously, I need your help."

Rhonda was still suspicious. "What for?"

"Promise not to laugh, first." Helga urged.

"No," came Rhonda's reply and the two seventeen year-old girls glared at each other.

Helga clenched her teeth. She should have known Rhonda wouldn't make anything easy for her. She reached for the zipper of her hoodie and pulled it down to reveal what she had been hiding.

"Oh dear Lord," Rhonda breathed in horror. "What did you do?"

At least, she didn't laugh, thought Helga sullenly.

Helga's hair, which was normally blonde and glistened in the sun, was now a dull orange color and fell in stiff clumps past her shoulders. The same orange color also smudged parts of her forehead and ears.

"I don't know, okay?" the girl with the hair emergency exclaimed. "I followed the instructions exactly and my hair still came out looking like this."

"What did you use? Varnish?" the stylish brunette asked incredulously. She glanced briefly at herself in the mirror- wavy long dark hair, designer outfit, flawless makeup- and gave the miserable creature in front of her a look of pity. "Well, serves you right, Helga. All these years, I've been giving you expert beauty and fashion advice and you never listen."

"And all these years," Helga retorted. "You never let up"

"If you even bothered to give me a chance, you'd have known your hair would have been the last thing I would change about you. I mean, it's okay but there's so much else that's wrong with you. Take your paleness, for instance-

"Zip it," Helga interrupted. "Face it, Lloyd, I'm just not a girly-girl like you."

"So explain this," Rhonda dared her. She made a face as she reached for a lock of Helga's hair, as if it were a wild animal which might bite her.

"It's because he's back, isn't it? And hanging out with Lila again?" She asked when Helga didn't speak. There was no malice in Rhonda's voice.

Arnold, Helga's long lost love, had come back from the jungles of San Lorenzo a month earlier. He and his parents decided it was best for him to graduate from high school and get ready for college with his childhood friends. True to form, he had wasted no time in ingratiating himself once again to the neighborhood, and reconnected with everyone he knew. Except Helga.

To be fair, Helga did not make it easy for him, either. For some reason, Helga had regressed to her younger self when Arnold came back. Once again, she was acting like she did before she and Arnold got together- loud, angry and sarcastic. She stormed out of a room whenever he came in and refused to be left alone with him.

She didn't even attend his welcome home party at the boarding house.

Helga felt she had the right to angry- that she was entitled to treat Arnold the way she did. After all, he was the one who left. He was the one who promised things wouldn't change. He was the one who stopped writing first.

So how dare he ignore her right back?

Helga knew there was no use in lying, but what could she say? She couldn't admit, least of all to Rhonda, how she obsessed about the fact that Arnold's two major childhood crushes both had red hair. There was Ruth McDougal, - whom she hardly knew anything about, but still hated with a passion all those years ago, and Lila.

During the short months she and Arnold had been a couple, Helga made it a point to be nice to all of Arnold's friends, including Lila. Arnold, on his part, made it unmistakably clear that she had nothing to be jealous about.

But that was years ago. Things were different now.

Helga thought that if she had red hair, she would somehow be irresistible to Arnold. He would not have waited so long to have a talk with her and he would not have kept her guessing where their relationship stood.

It made sense at the time.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Helga lied.

"Sure you do, Helga," Rhonda said in a disinterested voice. She had turned her back on Helga and talking to her as she brushed her hair. "This isn't the first time you've "single white female-d" Little Miss Perfect, you know."

Helga reddened. "He's been here a month!" she finally burst out. "Why hasn't he called me?" Helga wrung her hands and looked as if she were about to burst into tears.

Rhonda looked obviously uncomfortable. She tossed her head regally and gave an exasperated sigh. "God, I hate high school romances. It's bad enough when my own friends come to me with their crises but this?"

"Get a grip, Helga," Rhonda faced her and proceeded to chew her out. "I don't know what you were hoping to accomplish with that cheap-ass dye job but trust me, you don't need it. What you need is to realize that you're actually kinda hot."

"Spare me, Princess." Helga retorted. She felt bad enough without old Rhondaloid feeling bad for her and patronizing her.

"Will you listen to me? You know damn well I don't like you enough to pay you a false compliment to make you feel better."

Helga couldn't believe it. "You. Think. I'm hot." She emphasized each word to make sure she'd heard right.

"I said kinda hot," the brunette corrected. "Don't put words in my mouth. I mean, you need a lot of work but you'll get there eventually. And who knows? If I'm not around to outshine you, I'm pretty sure you manage to turn a few heads."

"Gee thanks," Helga replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "So what should I do about my hair?"

"You really want my help?" Rhonda verified.

"Just this once," Helga reassured her. "I mean, this is probably the one thing you know more about than I do."

"Hardly. " Rhonda rolled her eyes. She took her cellphone out of her handbag and hit a number on speed dial.

"Stefan, sweetie, will you do me a huge favor? A friend of mine is on her way, you'll know what to do when you see her." Rhonda instructed the person on the other end.

"No, not after school," Rhonda continued. "Right now as soon as you open. It's kind of an emergency. Just bill me, okay? Thanks, Babe."

"That was Stefan, from City Aesthetique" she informed Helga. She was talking about the super exclusive salon located in the Hillwood Grand Hotel. "You just walk in, look for him and tell him you're the friend I called about. If he can't help you, no one can."

She listened for any activity outside the girls' room. " Just stay here 'til the bell rings, then sneak out. That way, nobody will see you."

"Gee, thanks Rhon," Helga meant it this time. "I'll pay you back."

"Don't bother," Rhonda waved her off . "You couldn't afford good hair color the first time. Besides , my mother always tells me I need to be more charitable. Can I go now?"

Helga nodded. "Just one more thing: This conversation. Never happened, right?"

Rhonda sniffed disdainfully. "I'd kill myself before I ever tell anyone we have the same hairstylist."

Helga chuckled, "But you think I'm hot, right?" For some reason, Helga wanted to hear it again.

Rhonda put an elegant finger to her chin and looked thoughtful, "At the very least, you're certainly more interesting to look at than that bland creature you're insanely jealous of. I mean, I probably wouldn't kick you out of bed."

Rhonda smiled slyly. The last comment had taken Helga aback, which provided her with an opportunity for one last zinger. "At least, not until after." And with that she was out the door.

Helga shook her head. She wasn't sure what Rhonda meant exactly but she figured it was just one of the things Rhonda said to sound sophisticated.

The important thing was that Rhonda Wellington Lloyd- the Queen Bee herself- had basically given her, Helga G. Pataki, the stamp of approval.

"Kinda hot," she had said. It was as much of a compliment as one could hope for from the beautiful fashionista. It got funnier the more Helga thought about it. She had never cared about Rhonda's opinion before.

But the way Helga saw it, if someone like Rhonda- who had devoted her entire life to beauty and style and had impeccable, sophisticated taste-wasn't immune to her charms; then what chance did a certain stupid footballhead, who had spent a good chunk of his formative years in the jungle, have?

For what was probably the first time in a month, Helga smiled. She zipped her hoodie all the way back up and waited for the bell.

A/N Part Two: Thanks for reading!