Arnold knocked on the door to the Pataki house, only to get no answer. He knocked louder, hoping to get someone to come to the door. Again, no one came. He opened the door and peered inside, finding no one in the downstairs area. He checked the kitchen and living room, only finding no one there. He heard slight thumping from upstairs.
Smiling, he walked to the bottom of the staircase and strained to hear the music better. It was some bass notes and singing. Arnold was surprised to hear Helga singing, like an angel. He climbed the stairs and walked closer to her room, the door closed. He knocked on the door.
He waited patiently for a moment, but Helga didn't open the door.
"Maybe she can't hear it over the music." He slightly opened the door, the music becoming clearer, as well as her singing. He peaked inside to see her holding something in her hand and facing the wall. He waited for her to turn around, just listening to her.
She turned and saw Arnold standing in the doorway. She jumped in surprise and hit the nightstand, almost knocking over her lamp. She ran over and turned off the stereo, silence filling the room.
He smiled. "You are such a wonderful singer." He walked closer to her, but she took a step back and scowled.
"This never leaves this room, Football-head. Got it?" She set down the poetry book in her hand, which she had used as an imaginary microphone. Arnold grabbed her and pulled her into a hug and smiled.
"Whatever you say, Helga" whispered Arnold.
Helga pushed him away slightly, smiling and blushing.
"You're damn right Football-head. Whatever I say."
She took his hand and continued, "Are we going on that date now? Maybe we can sit next to each other at the parlor."
Arnold liked that idea. He never could get close enough to her.