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Roundabout Movie Nights (ie: Part 1 of Arnold's attempts)

"Good morning."

"Criminey, Football Head!" Arnold watched as Helga spun around clutching at her heart while she presses herself to the row of lockers behind her.

Despite his nice guy persona, he laughs at this. Bellyful too. He makes a quick scan of the sleep deprived students around them. No one pays the blondes heed. Good. Because he was about to do something bold.

"You know for someone so tough, you really do have a nervous disposition, Helga," he pretends to wipe at a tear.

Naturally, she grits her teeth at this. Her ego, he sees, rising up to defend her.

"At least I'm not the creep here. Jesus, Arnoldo, you really could give someone a heart attack pulling a stunt like that," she admonishes as she turns back around to spin the combo on her lock. "And anyway, what are you doing here? Your class isn't even on this floor," she says casually before she notices she had (willingly) given out vital information she (oddly) knew about him.

She tenses up, Arnold sees her shoulders stiffen clear as day. But she's a champ, this one.

"Or at least that's where Tall Hair Boy's class is, Phoebe can't shut up about the guy, Geez Louis, talk about devoted, am I right, football head?" she babbles out, grin on the wry side. Though he notices she used to be better at recovering.

They were established friends long before Phoebe and Gerald got together but she liked to pretend she was aloof when it came to him. He takes this (her rookie mistake) as a victory, a step up the ladder to he knows not where. With Helga, you never really know, do you? But still it makes him smile.

For her sake, he goes on like he didn't notice her tiny slip.

He shrugs, leaning against the locker beside hers. Knowing how much Helga hated audiences, Arnold watches the early morning traffic of students and teachers all the while checking for eavesdroppers.

"Had time, I guess," he gives her a half-lidded smile which she answers with a confused eyebrow.

Honestly, he wasn't feeling too keen about crowds himself right about now. Also there was a major chance he would tank this attempt.

He really didn't need extra pair of eyes witnessing his failed moves.

"Evil Twin's going to play downtown," he says conversationally before she could comment on his odd visit.

Helga instantly lights up. Arnold feels something like a thump-thump in his chest. She loved old (trashy) movies. They're classics to her.

"No way, football head, you got to be egging me!" she stuffs her backpack into her locker.

"Ahw, man, l've got to make plans with Phoebe! She's going to be so stoked when she hears about this," she says happily as she riffles through her locker for homework and books.

"It's only on this Friday," Arnold drops the bomb.

Helga visibly wilts. They both knew what that meant.

"Date night," Helga sulkily whispers to herself.

"Yea," Arnold's nervous and he clears his throat.

C'mon, kid, he could almost hear Ernie pressing him on.

He straightens up, now standing to face her side.

"I thought we could both go," he hopes she doesn't notice his stilted voice.

She freezes again, hand in the middle of grabbing a textbook out of her locker.

Oh, you could almost hear her thinking.

"Since, I mean, Phoebe and Gerald would be busy that night and they probably wouldn't want to spend date night at the movies. It's their, um, anniversary, I checked." Helga wasn't the only one who babbled when nervous.

He could feel the red creeping up his neck.

Cool it, man. Gerald this time.

Right.

Helga stiffly turns to look at him with this nonplussed reaction on her features. Another rookie mistake.

"I'll pick you up at seven, all right?" he leaves before she could answer.

That's right, never take 'no' for an answer aheh-heh, Arnold hears Oskar's aggressive advice as he walks away.

Smooth, Gerald's sarcastic voice follows.

Tonight, Arnold promises, he won't do anything too date-like, nothing too overtly prepared. Knowing her, she'd probably find an excuse to ditch him in the middle of the movie if she felt at any point like he was smothering her. He operates on the belief that the way to get Helga G. Pataki was to not let her see you coming.

Arnold shifts his gear into park and gets out of the Packard though not before petting the dash affectionately. For good luck. Grandpa had let him borrow the relic specially for tonight.

About time, Shortman, he had said.

Kimba and Elanore? What would the president say! Grandma tutted as she passed them by in the living room.

Arnold chuckles on the street.

He breathes in the city's smog deeply. Right, you got this, man, Arnold hears Gerald's pep talk from earlier afternoon. Yea, he's got this. Nothing to be nervous about. He nods to himself and walks the three blocks to her house.

As much as he was tempted to just walk with her downtown, he knows she would find it too date-like and instantly cut off. But at least he'll have this three blocks with her. He'll blame the parking in her neighborhood but honestly walking with her sounds really nice. Just really really nice.

He lets himself daydream. An involuntary half lidded grin sits on his face.

She'll be cold, though it's only three blocks he'll bravely offer his sweater. She'll shyly accept and whisper a thank you while tucking in a stray blonde strand. By block two her hands would still be cold and he'll boldly take them into his to warm them up. He won't let go. She'll let him hold her hand until they reach the Packard. Both will feel the other's heartbeat in their palms. He'll run ahead to open her door and the biggest and reddest blush would paint her cheeks. Jesus, it'll be a sight to see. She'll daintily slide in - and he's near her stoop*.

The slamming of her front door brings Arnold back from his daydream. It's Helga going down the stoop. She jumps the last three steps and jogs to where he is, a teasing smirk on her face.

He's a little bit put out because he was supposed to meet her at her door. But he knows better than to state this out loud. Imagine, him whining about this in front of Helga. A half laugh makes it out his throat.

Before he could even greet her a good evening, Helga cuts him off.

"Knowing you, football head, you'd probably ring the doorbell instead of just texting," she walks in the direction of where he came from, stride not shortening until she's a few paces in front of him.

He rolls his eyes good naturedly.

"Helga, doorbells were invented for a reason," he insists.

Her head tilts back in a harsh laugh, though it's not unkind.

"Jesus, you really are old school, you know that right, Arnoldo?" she teases still a few spaces in front of him.

She's walking backwards with this smirk and her eyes are sparkling with mirth.

He has the childish urge to tackle her and lift her on his shoulders. Bet she wouldn't be so teasing then. He wets his chapped lips and says what he wanted to greet her with when she opened her front door.

"Good evening, Helga."

Her laugh was tinkling.

"Geez, the parking in this city is shit," Helga complains as they circle another block.

He knows that admonishing her for her language would be next to unhelpful, so he drives on in silence not really paying attention to open slots.

They're four blocks from the theater and Arnold couldn't wish for better luck.

Maybe he'll get to hold her hand after all. He feels the beginnings of a crooked grin but stops it because Helga would probably catch it and think him a madman.

"There!"

"Jesus, Mary," he says under his breath as he fights to control the wheel, "Helga!" he breaks and pointedly looks at her.

"We made a rule!" he childishly says. Once, they went they went on a road trip to thr beach with the gang. Arnold, ever the responsible one, had voluntereed to drive.

He had one rule.

No screaming.

He made this rule when they almost went off road because Helga screeched when she thought she felt a rat run over her feet. In the car.

Helga rolls her eyes, "not my fault you're a lousy driver, football head," unapologetic.

Unbelievable.

Before he could retort, Helga leans toward him from her seat.

What the - ? he panics.

She reaches over to turn on his signal.

"Now hurry up before someone steals our spot," she's back in her seat now.

Right. Right, she was just leaning in to turn on the blinker.

It probably only took a half-second but Arnold was already breathing weirdly.

He stiffly maneuvers the car beside the curb.

Nothing eventful happens on the four block walk.

He's a little bit disappointed.

She doesn't let him hold her hand (not that he tries, he smart enough not to do that) and she doesn't let him pay for her ticket (at least he tried).

"That was a riot!" Helga says as she pushes the heavy cinema door open, leading them outside.

Arnold laughs at her girlish joy.

"Rambo's an idiot, man, but still refreshing as always," her grin's almost manic.

She looks up to the sky and blinks.

"Look, Arnold, full moon!" she exclaims.

His real name took him by surprise but his head instantly turns up to where she was pointing.

The sky looked a deep faded blue but you could see how round and bright the moon looked.

He turns back to see her still neck craned. Her eyes awhile ago sparkling with mirth are now half lidded. She looked content.

Wow, he breathes hoping she didn't hear him.

For all her tough guy persona, she really was just a girl.

Who liked moons and was afraid of rats. Who was afraid of commitment or him, he hasn't decided.

He smiles at her unbidden.

Jesus, what a girl.

"Wanna get something to eat?" Arnold's glad his voice doesn't come out as a cliche whisper but it does come out softly, shyly because he's expecting her to say no.

But she's full of surprises tonight. She'll always be full of surprises, Arnold believes.

"Yea," she turns to him, "yea, I'd like that," her smile soft at the edges.

He knows just the place.

"Slausen's?"

She nods.

He starts to walk.

"Where ya headed to, football head?"

Arnold swivels to see her still planted, he raises an eyebrow, "back to the car," he points a thumb to that direction.

She turns to walk in the other direction. He's ultimately confused.

"We should walk," she says without looking over her shoulder, "it's just four blocks, that and parking downtown is shit."

He happily jogs to her.

He doesn't attempt anything on the way to Slausen's but he does get her to accept his offered sweater on the way back.

But not before a block of out right refusal and a block of scowling on her part all while he insists she takes it. He's stubborn but so is she. Still he feels marginally successful. Despite his daydreaming, he honestly doesn't expect her to be easy. If she was, he wouldn't have had to bring her on a rounabout date, would he?

Either way, he's optimistic they'll figure it out. She did agree to go with him tonight, didn't she?

Helga grabs the sweater that was bunched up in his hand that was hanging by his side and puts it on.

"Might as well use it if you won't, football head," she grumbles out not looking at him.

Strangely, he hears a thank you somewhere in between.

He smiles privately.

"Whatever you say, Helga."

* I was just basically making fun of Arnold and his tendency to daydream.

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