Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold. Craig Bartlett does.

Author's Note: This is a little lame but I had to write it. It's my first HA fic so don't take it too seriously.

Wake Up

Helga was walking through the park on a normal Saturday afternoon. She heard what seemed to be an argument coming from behind a tree.

"What were you doing back there? Were you listening to me?"

"No! No! I wasn't listening. I didn't hear a thing, I swear!" exclaimed a very familiar voice that sounded extremely scared. Helga ran quickly around the tree to see a girl, around fifteen, holding Arnold up by the front of his shirt. She was steaming mad.

"HEY!" Helga yelled. "Leave him alone!"

The girl turned and looked Helga in the eye.

"What do you care about the football head?"

"I…I," Helga stammered. 'There's got to be a way out of this! Think, Helga girl!' she said to herself. "Hey, he may be a football head, but he's MY football head! Nobody picks on him but me!" she recovered.

The girl stared at her, considering Helga's comment. "Very brave. Come with me," she said, releasing Arnold.

"What?!"

"I want to talk to you. Come here."

"Why would I…"

"Look, if you care about football face at all, COME HERE!"

Helga was trapped. What could she do? What would this wacko do to Arnold if she didn't go? What would Arnold say if she did? She decided to take her chances with the latter. Sure, she may never be able to live it down, but at least her beloved would be safe.

She didn't say a word, but followed the stranger, leaving Arnold standing by the tree completely and totally dumbfounded. Once out of earshot, the girl spoke.

"You stood up to me. That was very courageous."

"Yeah, well, you would too if…" she trailed off.

"If what?" the girl questioned turning to look at Helga.

Helga got that nervous look in her eye that she got so often. "N…nothing, nothing. Forget I said it," she covered anxiously pulling at the collar of her shirt.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say," she said sarcastically.

"What's that supposed to mean? And why'd you drag me over here? What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, I wanted to ask you something about your little football headed friend over there. His name's Arnold right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Why do you like him so much?"

"WHAT?!"

"Simple, what makes you like him?"

"What makes you say…"

"Oh, please! ' He may be a football head, but he's my football head?' Give me a break!"

"Uh, why are you so interested in a couple of nine year olds anyhow?" Helga said, trying to change the subject.

The teenager took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. "Because I've been where you are. I still am, actually."

"What are you talking about?"

"You and Arnold. He likes you but he doesn't like you, like you. You like him, like him but are too afraid to tell him."

"Is it really that obvious?" she said, for some reason feeling that she could trust this complete stranger.

"Boy, you're all questions, aren't you?" she laughed lightly. "And let's just say I'm very… observing."

"But why should you care? It's really none of your business how we feel about each other. I mean I just met you, what, ten minutes ago?"

"Look, I know it's none of my business. I'm just trying to make sure you don't have to deal with that pain as long as I have."

"Let me get this straight, you like someone and you're keeping it a secret, too?"

"You're as dense as the football head! That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

"Well, I'm sorry but I'm a little confused at the moment!" she yelled. "I find it hard to understand why in the world you care!"

The girl was getting frustrated. "I just want to give you some advice, okay? So you don't end up like me. I've had a crush on a boy since I was five!"

"I've liked Arnold since I was three."

"I'm fifteen."

"I see your point," Helga relented. "Boy, I can't imagine going another four years without…" she trailed off again.

"Yeah, when I was your age I couldn't. But times change, years pass. I've just never had the courage to tell him that I… For ten long years I've known this boy, talked to him, had fun with him. I am forever doomed to sit right behind him in alphabetical order. We're good friends, always have been. He lives across the street from me; his brother is my brother's best friend. At school I talk to him like I talk to anyone else, except I'm thinking, 'What would he do to me if I kissed him right now?' I know that sounds horribly pathetic, but if you're not careful, if you don't tell Arnold how you feel, you may end up with worse pain than if he doesn't like you back."

"Hey, Andie! Catch!"

The teenager looked up just in time to catch a baseball.

"Thanks a lot Tommy. You scared me to death!" Andie yelled at the boy. Helga noticed the slightest blush on Andie's cheeks.

"You gonna play?" he asked holding up a bat.

"Sure, I'll be right there. You go on ahead. Oh, and Tommy? Don't do that to me again," she added sweetly before throwing the ball as far and hard as she could. Tommy went running after the ball. Andie sighed.

"That him?" Helga asked.

"Um, what? Did you say something?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

"I bet you know how that felt."

"Yeah, I guess I do. You can go play. Thanks for the advice, Andie. I'll make sure to take it to heart. You should, too."

"It doesn't fit you."

"What?" Helga asked confused.

"This façade you put up. You're no bully. You hide your emotions. You shouldn't. Maybe Arnold will be able to help you with that," Andie said with a smile as she walked away towards the baseball field.

'Well, that was weird!' Helga thought as she walked over to the tree that Arnold was sitting under. Over the past few months she had come increasingly closer to telling him her secret, intentionally or unintentionally. 'I guess this conversation was the straw that broke the camel's back.' She sighed heavily.

"Hey, Football Head, how're ya doing?" she said to him, less harsh than she ever had before. For once in his life he noticed.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," she answered sitting down next to him.

"Um, I wanted to thank you for, you know, earlier when…"

"Andie over there was going to mash your face in?"

"Yeah," he said laughing. "Why, uh, did you go with her? She said that if you cared…" he trailed off. He had been trying to figure out what to say to her since she left and wasn't quite done yet.

"Oh, boy."

"What?"

"I've got some 'splaining to do," she said in her best Ricky Ricardo impression. He laughed, making her look him in the eyes. She got lost in them for a minute before finding the ground more interesting, or at least easier to face.

"I would have thought this would be easier. I guess the longer you wait, the harder it is," she said more to herself than to him.

"Helga, I don't understand. What are you trying to say?"

"Look, I know you're confused about why I helped you. You expected me not to go with Andie. That I didn't care about you."

"And that's not true."

"No, obviously it's not, otherwise I wouldn't be talking to you now."

"Oh, right," he said confused. "If you care about me, why do you always pick on me?"

"I don't know. Since preschool, I've felt I've had to cover up things so I won't get picked on myself. I'm sorry I picked on you in particular, Arnold. I didn't want to hurt you."

"But, I'd never pick on you."

"No, but the others would."

"Why?"

Helga took a deep breath. He still didn't get it. He didn't understand what she was trying to say. She had to think of something he'd recognize. Suddenly she knew.

"Arnold, um, do you remember a while ago, when you found a book of poems…"

"Yeah, 'first spitball of the day,' I remember. What about it?"

"You went through a lot of trouble trying to find out who wrote them."

"Yeah?" he said suspiciously. It caused her to look in his eyes.

'Well, here goes nothing.' "'H is for the head I'd like to punt,' do you know what that means?"

"You heard me read it?"

"Oh, give me a break! Can you really be that dense? What do they punt on your planet, FOOTBALL HEAD?" she said getting really frustrated. "'Cause down here on earth, we normally punt…"

"Footballs," he cut her off. Shock and awareness was visible on his features. "Me and Gerald were checking the handwriting with everyone in PS 118 but we," he gasped. "We stopped right before we checked yours!"

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda, pal," she said smiling.

"I don't know what to say."

Helga looked at the ground again, "That makes two of us."

They stayed there, sitting side by side, for what seemed like forever. They just studied the ground until…

"Helga?"

Helga lifted her head just in time for Arnold to kiss her.

"Wha…what was that for?" she asked a little lightheaded.

"Thanks."

The End