Written By Shaun Blankenship

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"Hey Arnold! Hey Arnold! Hey Arnold! Hey-"

Arnold brought his hand down violently on the alarm clock in his image. It was a wonder why he still kept it around. The sound of its repetitious alarm was growing on Arnold's nerves. Maybe it held a nostalgic value to him, but he still didn't know why he hadn't retired it yet.

His room had changed considerably since he was in fourth grade. The blue wallpaper that donned the sides of his room had been covered by a darker shade of paint than the cloudy décor had to offer. His stereo was the same; nothing had changed in the actual equipment it used but a few additional speakers were added. Everything was still remote control. His in-wall couch had broken and now was stuck as a permanent piece of furniture in Arnold's room. Maybe Frost had said it best; "Nothing gold can stay". Nothing lasts forever, especially when it's electric. This rule was especially affective to Sony Discmans.

He no longer wore the teddy bear pajamas that Harold had harassed him about so many years ago. He still wore "pajamas" in a sense; they were just gray gym shorts and a white shirt. You never grow out of some things, yet that's not always a good thing; but when it comes to pajamas, who really cares?

Arnold went to take a shower and get dressed. After that, he would get dressed in his usual school attire. No more plaid shirts with turquoise sweaters; now he usually wore shirts much like the one under his old sweater unbuttoned with a shirt under it usually containing a silly catch phrase. "Give me a dollar and I'll leave you alone" was the current flavor of the day. All that and cheap jeans from his local department store. Arnold was never one to go overboard with trends, so he just wore what he liked. That's an amiable trait hard to find these days.

After getting dressed, he went to work on his hair. The cornflower hair had now drooped behind his head instead of puffing out in every direction possible. He had lost his blue hat two years ago; otherwise he would've worn the only real memory of his parents everywhere until he died. Nobody knows what happened to it, but they'd soon find out if they were to raid Helga Pataki's closet.

His face was blemish-free, thanks to the acne fighting power of Clearasil! Yes, Clearasil, the only acne fighter with power beyond belief! Nobody had ever really seen Arnold with a pimple. As soon as Arnold had noticed one over the summer, he started using the treatment everyday. There was only one thing Arnold could think of every time he used it: Poor Eugene. Eugene had not been so lucky. Being an everlasting jinx, Eugene's acne had taken over his entire face and still hung around. His mother had taken him to a doctor to treat it but that still didn't work. Maybe he was just doomed to spend the rest of his life with a minefield above his shoulders. Back in middle school, something like that might have been found funny, but now it was just sad. He really, honestly pitied Eugene. He was the most unfortunate person on the planet.

Arnold heard a voice from downstairs. "Arnold! Ar-nold!" His grandpa bellowed as loud as he could from the kitchen downstairs.

Arnold hollered back down, "I'll be right there!" He quickly made his way on the stairs.

Arnold's grandpa sat at the kitchen table as motionless as a corpse. Arnold was sure that one day; it would just be a corpse. He didn't know what he'd do if they were to die; they were the closest things to parents he's ever had. He couldn't stand to lose two sets of family members. "What do you need, grandpa?

His grandpa looked at Arnold in a glazed confusion. "You know, I honestly don't remember. Oh, could you make me some oatmeal?"

"Grandpa, I'm really sorry, but I don't have time." Arnold set two s'more pop-tarts down in the toaster. "The bus'll be here in two minutes. I can start microwaving a bowl for you, but you're going to have to take it out of the microwave. I'll be gone by then."

Grandpa gave a heavy sigh. "Oh, I don't want to get up."

"Well, do you want some applesauce then? You have to have something for breakfast." Arnold grabbed a backpack from the front of the stairway. He had left it there last night before he went to bed. Even though he wasn't going to need it today, he still brought it. You never needed anything for the first day except a pen or pencil. Grandpa made a groan at the thought of Arnold's applesauce idea. "Come on, grandpa. I'd give you a pop-tart but you know what the doctor said."

Grandpa waved his arms mockingly. "Yeah, yeah, I know. 'No really sugary substances, they're bad for my heart.' Phooey! Listen, Arnold, those doctors are quacks! I may have the body of the old man, but I also have the digestive system of a… a… I can't think of any comparisons but it's good!"

Arnold flashed his grandfather a sarcastic smirk. "Grandpa, work with me. How about I get you an applesauce cup? Please? You have to have something!"

Grandpa muttered something under his breath that Arnold couldn't hear. He finally spoke up, "Yeah, sure. Just give me the applesauce."

Arnold opened the fridge and reached for a Mott's Applesauce snack pack. He opened it, shoved a spoon in it, and served it to his grandpa. "Come on, grandpa, applesauce isn't that bad!"

"Yeah, but bacon and eggs would be a pleasant change!"

Arnold's pop-tarts jumped out of the toaster. He grabbed a sheet of paper towel and picked the pastries out and placed them in his hands. They don't kid when they say on the packages that filling after toasting will be hot. If you do it right, the whole thing will be scolding. He picked them out, took a bite, and waved good-bye. "See ya later, grandpa!"

His grandfather depressingly raised his hand to wave him off. "Good-bye, short man." He was now alone in the kitchen. He finished off his applesauce and threw the container away. He then hobbled his way back into his bedroom where he would sleep until Arnold came back.

***

"Arnold! What's goin' on?"

Gerald was waiting for Arnold at the end of the street. He had changed but not much. His hair now puffed out in an Afro sort of fashion. It was the funniest thing Arnold had ever seen when he first decided to do it, but now both of them were kind of adapting to it. It became more believable. Gerald had replaced his red 33 shirt with some clothing brand Arnold couldn't read. Something that began with a K but that's all Arnold could make out. The rest of it looked as if it were written in chicken-scratch. "Gerald, I thought you were going to drive to school this year."

Gerald shrugged, "Nah, I couldn't get a parking permit. And besides, something's wrong with my car. It's leakin' oil or something."

Arnold laughed mildly. "Well, that's what you get for buying a Ford."

Gerald gave Arnold a somewhat serious glare. "Hey, it was all I could afford! I figured I'd buy a bus pass this year and only drive my car when I absolutely need to."

"That's not that bad of an idea." The bus pulled up and they stepped inside. The shuffled past most of the empty rows to the second seat on the left side of the bus. They had started sitting there once they started high school. It was somewhat of a new beginning for them. The bus started moving before they even had a chance to sit down.

Gerald continued their conversation. "Pshh! Yeah, that's not a bad idea! Have I ever come up with a bad idea? Me, Gerald, have a bad idea? Oh, no!"

Arnold struck back in rebuttal. "What about the time you sold Wacko watches and got overstocked and had to sell them back to the company?"

Gerald looked at Arnold in a doubtful matter. "Hey, I was nine. Sue me."

"What about the time you called in sick to work and came in later to get your check?"

Gerald sunk back in the seat in embarrassment. "Man, I knew you were gonna bring that up. I just knew it. Every time I try to feel good about myself, you just have to shoot me down. Don't you, Arnold?"

Arnold patted Gerald on the back. "Hey, I'm just playin' around. Just remember: for every good idea you've had, you've had a bad idea." Arnold unzipped his backpack and grabbed the only thing that was in there: his CD player.

"Hey, Arnold," inquired Gerald. "What ya listenin' to?"

Arnold lifted open the lid to the Discman and revealed a burned CD. "It's got a bunch of stuff on it. Some old stuff, some new stuff; you know."

Gerald made a nodding motion. "Uh-huh… but what's on it?"

"A little bit of everything. I think I may even have some Dino Spumoni on it. Other than that…"

Gerald finished his sentence. "White boy stuff."

"I guess you could say that."

"No Snoop or MC Fool or anything."

"No, none of… who is MC Fool?"

Gerald readjusted himself in the bus seat. "MC Fool is this guy I found on the Internet. He sounds like a DMX wannabe. It's kind of funny, though."

"Hmm, I'll have to look for that."

The bus made another stop to pick-up Helga. She boarded the bus and sat in the seat behind Arnold and Gerald. They didn't really seem to notice; they just kept talking.

"So, Gerald, who do you have this year?"

Gerald rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of white paper. "Uh, I have… you know, just read it." He handed Arnold the paper to Arnold. All the kids had their pictures taken and received schedules at a thing the high school called Bulldog Days. The mascot of the high school had been a bulldog, which explained the oddness of the name.

Arnold glanced over Gerald's schedule. "Hey, we have Chemistry and Creative Writing together!"

Arnold handed Gerald his schedule back. "That's cool, man." He took the paper and shoved it back in his pocket.

Arnold put his knees on the seat and turned around to the blond-haired girl behind him. "Hey, Helga, what do you have this year?"

She gave pulled her schedule out of her jeans neatly folded and handed it to Arnold. "Not like it's any of your business or anything…"

Arnold took the paper and looked at it. "Hey, we have three classes together!"

Gee, what a big surprise. Helga was very tired from last night. She hadn't gone to bed until four-thirty in the morning. Just the thought of having to be back in the same building as Arnold again made her restless and sick.

"Yeah, you're in my Systems of Justice class, Algebra II and Creative Writing."

Helga gave a depressing sigh. "Perfect."

Arnold turned back to Helga to give her schedule back. "Hey, what's wrong? You seem kind of out of it today."

In case you haven't noticed, I was never in it to begin with; she thought to herself. "I just didn't get much sleep last night, that's all. Thank God it's only a half day."

"Yeah, I guess." Arnold was about to turn back when he changed his mind. "I don't know, Helga, it seems like something else is really bothering you."

Helga gave him a really nasty scowl. "So? Who do you think you are? What makes you think you need to know everything about me? Let's say hypothetically that, yes, there was something else bothering me. Even if this was so, it doesn't mean you need to stick your little round nose in it!"

Arnold put his hands in front of him to motion for Helga to back off. "Helga, I was just asking." The bus stopped and picked a few other kids but Arnold didn't know any of their names. "I didn't mean to intrude or anything, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Well, I'm okay, there. Now turn back around and leave me alone!"

Arnold gave Helga a calming look. "Fine, Helga." He turned back around. Looks like that were the reason that Helga loved in the pit of her heart still, but it was acting like that that made Helga hate herself more everyday. She asked herself the same old question she always asked when these things happened: Why? Why am I always so mean to him? I don't hate him! There really isn't much I don't like about him! But yet, I always treat him like this! When will I learn better? WHEN?!

She reached into her purse and pulled out a twenty ounce of Yahoo soda. She twisted the plastic cap off and took a quick swig of it. Many people she knew hated it when people drank pop in the morning, but for some reason she just couldn't stand coffee unless it was loaded with some sort of sweetener or flavor. If she was going to dilute it with sugar, she might as well be drinking soda. If there was only a way I could just control my emotions whenever I'm around him! If only I could-

Arnold had turned around in his seat again. "Hey, Helga…"

Helga screeched violently, "WHAT DO YOU WANT!"

Arnold moved back a bit as if hit by the force of her words physically. "Ah, nevermind." He turned back to his normal position. Now Helga's problem wasn't trying to find a way to get closer to Arnold, but trying to find a way to apologize to him.

Just another average school year for Helga Pataki.