Purple Pen

Purple Pen
A Hey Arnold! quad-drabble
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Arnold finally started to pay attention to Helga. Ever since her renounced confession, he had begun to notice a lot of her little habits. Like how when they bumped into each other on the street she would get a soft warmth to her eyes before masking it with a scowl and some insults. Or how she would rush away and hide after their encounters. He noticed how her insulting name-calling now seemed to be more like a nickname or pet-name to him. Football-Head. None of his other friends called him that. Instead of frowning now, he smiled whenever she said it.
Recently he found himself staring as she nibbled on the tip of her favourite pen – the one with the purple ink. He really should have noticed sooner, but everything she wrote was in that purple ink. Her writing was cursive, looped and feminine, unlike her initial tom-boyish appearance. She was often writing away in various notebooks, including a one which jogged Arnold's memory. A little pink book. He had one just like it on his shelf, from having accidentally found it amongst his school books. That little book just happened to be filled with love poems about him, written in looped purple handwriting.
"…filling volumes of books with poems about you…"
He remembered her outburst on the FTI Building, quite fondly. The force of Helga's confession ensured that though they promised to forget it, he never really could. In fact, it had been on his mind more often than he liked.
Arnold had no doubt that she had told him the truth that day and that the pink book in his possession had been owned by Helga G Pataki. The purple pen had proved it, really.
As flattering as the shock confession had been, he was glad to have some time to think the entire situation over and come to terms with his glimpses at the real Helga. He liked Helga, despite her being a bully. He had always known there was more to her than her rough, brash and mean exterior. The question was did he like-like her?
No. Not yet anyway. But the more he paid attention to her, the more he saw the hints of the real Helga bubbling to the surface when her guard was down and no-one else was watching, he found that he was liking what he saw. He liked it a lot.