AN: Woah, an authors note before the story starts? How unlike me! Well, as some of you probably don't know, I am a super huge Hey Arnold fan! And have fallen in love with the fic "Life with the Shortmans" by SuprSingr (any HelgaxArnold fan or just a fan in general CHECK DAT SHIT OUT, IT'S GREAT) And I have developed a crush on her melodramatic little ball of hatred and cuteness known as Phil, even though he's 11 (Shhh I'm not a pedo I swear) so she has given me permission to write a fic about him! Because she is a god and a saint. Also if any of you are here expecting Swansong for a Raven stuff, I just updated so don't bug me about it. Anyway!

Phil, Zack, Josh, and Amanda Shortman all belong to SuprSingr, Hey Arnold and all of it's original characters belong to our lord and savior Craig Bartlett, and Alice Barker belongs to moi!

Phil Shortman could not count on his crazy family to be a constant. But for 5 years, since she walked into his 5th grade class, he had gotten one constant. Biker boots.

"Wretched, controlling creatures." He thought to himself. You see, Phil did not like women...at all. He is convinced they are nothing but dominating wenches who wish nothing more than to impose upon the male species.

"Well class, today I'd like to welcome a new student!" There were some hushed whispers, excited giggles, and snickers around him, but he simply rolled his eyes. Just another waste of oxygen, to him. He inwardly groaned as a girl walked in. She was short, with pale skin and black hair swept over her left eye that had a reddish tinge to it. Her eyes were a bright and alert hazel, and she was dressed in a pair of simple light blue pants and a sunset pink t-shirt with a pair of biker boots. Now, that's a first, he thought to himself, as he had only seen biker boots on teenagers and adults. Hmph, the things people will do to be different. "Well would you like to tell the class a little about yourself?" Ms. Parker said, looking down at the little girl with a sweet smile that made Phil want to gag.

"Well, my name's Alice, Alice Barker. I like to listen to music and make costumes. I'm really into theatre, and I was head of prop design and lighting at my old school. I like to cook and draw, too. And, uhm, a word of warning...Don't touch me. Ever." She crossed her arms, staring down at the class, as if daring them to say anything against her.

"Oh, uhm, well, why don't you take that empty seat back there, next to Mr. Shortman."

Phil bristled at the mention of his name, and he locked his green eyes with her single visible hazel one, before she trudged down the aisle and plopped her pink backpack on the floor, hopping into the desk next to his. The fact that he had to deal with another female within a 10 mile radius of him made his blood boil, but he kept a calm face. Hopefully he wouldn't have to deal with her very much, or preferably at all. But his hopes were dashed as soon as he walked into drama class, and there she was, sitting on the stage swinging her legs back and forth. He noticed her boots were way too big for her, and rolled his eyes. Obviously she has no idea how to even buy her own clothes, stupid girl.

"Hey." Phil nearly screamed when he heard her speak to him out of the blue.

"Don't sneak up on me like that, you wretched cur!" He whipped around, glaring at her with all the intensity he could muster. He couldn't even look her in the eyes, as he only had one to focus on.

"I just wanted to say hi, no need to be a huge jerk about it." she sneered, showing the braces he hadn't noticed before.

"Well, I'm feeling generous so I'll just tell you to never speak to me again." Phil crossed his arms.

"Why?" She tilted her head to the side, and he could see the very corner of her mysterious left eye.

"...You're a waste of oxygen and are a completely useless addition to this planet." He deadpanned, stating it as a fact rather than an insult. What she said though, would confuse him for years to come. He had told that to many people before, and they had responded with anger, confusion, sadness, but never...agreement.

"I know." She said it with such a straight face that Phil didn't even know what to think.

"...What?" He made sure to lace his words with a bit of apprehension so he didn't sound like a simple, curious idiot.

"You're not the first person to tell me that. But you're the first to say it as less an insult and more like what it is, a fact. Everyone is a waste of the oxygen on this planet, we do nothing but die in the end. Our lives will all end, but people have convinced themselves that they have a use until then." she shrugged, shoving her hands in her pockets and looking down at her too-big boots. "In 5 billion years, the sun's going to explode anyway...If global warming doesn't kill us all, first. Anyway, nice meeting you, Phil." She smiled brightly at him, before the director called her over to get started on working with the lights for the upcoming play.

For two years, Phil only felt confusion and unadulterated hatred for that girl...and then there was puberty. His hormones were acting up, and Alice wasn't bad to look at, he had to admit that about the brainless wench.

He was 15 now (and had been subconsciously obsessing over Alice for 2 years), turning 16 in November, and very, very frustrated with his life at the moment, but then again, he always was. Therapy sessions over the years had made him less prone to outbursts, but he still outright refused to be touched, and so did Alice. Actually, the last time someone had touched her she almost strangled them with wires and got sent to the principals office. That girl was not well.

"Shortman! I need your help." The grating voice of that she-devil raked in his ears, but Phil complied if only to shut her up.

"What, cur?" He growled with an indifferent face.

"I'm out of safety pins, you're going to have to help me. Hold the fabric up to the dress." She was head of costume design, as well as lighting, and was currently working on the ball gown for their production of Cinderella, which both teenagers agreed was stupid. Phil rolled his eyes and pinched the fabric between his fingers, holding it up to where she pointed to.

Phil was no longer a short, 11 year old boy in a green shirt with fluffy brown hair. He wore a dark grey trench-coat over a green and black striped sweater, with slim black pants and biker boots (an idea which he will never admit to getting from Alice, who had worn the same boots for 4 years and they had just now started fitting her). His hair had gained an extra cowlick right after his older brother Zack had left, making a tiny crown shape on the top of his head, and he had grown his bangs over his left eye (once again, something he had unknowingly gotten from alice.). She bit the end of the string looped into the needle, tying a tiny not before beginning to stitch the fabric onto the dress.

Alice had also changed. Her hair was short and flipped out, but her left eye was always covered, making many people wonder if there was something wrong with it. Phil had heard about a million made-up stories about why she covers up her eye, ranging from it being lost to an angry bear, to her ripping it out herself in an insane mental breakdown, all the way to her being blinded by someone putting sulfuric acid in her contact fluid, which was absurd because she doesn't wear contacts. She wore a red-shirt and black ruffle skirt nowadays, with a very 80's style pale denim vest. There was a white earbud plugged in her ear, that disappeared down her shirt and only resurfaced at the hem of it, leading to an iPod oh so stealthily stuck in the band of her skirt.

But it was always biker boots, every day. He had even seen her once on the beach wearing those boots, though she wasn't doing anything but sitting under an umbrella listening to music and reading a book. It made him wonder if she slept in those old things, too. Actually, she made him wonder about a lot of things. The girl was clearly insane, even his idiot of an older brother could tell when 2 years ago they were walking on the sidewalk and they saw her sitting on top of a street lamp playing the bongos.

Hmph, at least Thanksgiving break will be coming soon enough, along with his birthday. Drama was their last class, so it was late in the day and everyone was ready to get home. About 10 minutes before the final bell rang, Mr. Leichliter, or Leach Eater, as Phil liked to call him, called everyone on stage.

"Now class, I have decided you have a project to do over the break." There were groans and muttered curse words all around, but a clap of Leach Eaters hands silenced them. "I will assign you a partner and you will have to collaborate to write a short, two-person play. You will be graded on teamwork, quality of your play, and whether I enjoy it or not." Alice had to roll her eyes at that, because in her opinion (and surely in the opinion of the rest of the class) Leichliter was a complete dick. A douchebag, a dimwit, and many other derogatory terms starting with the letter "D." Neither Philip nor Alice payed attention to the names being called out, both eager to return to their homes. That was until...

"Philip Shortman will be working with Alice Barker." If either of them had been drinking anything, they would've done a spit take, but the snickering class (who knew that when you put hateful boy and hateful girl together you get a nuclear explosion) would have to settle for a simultaneous-

"WHAT!?" Phil was seething, and Alice's head whipped around so fast that you could almost see her eye, almost.

"You heard me, kiddos." Before either of them could protest, the bell rang like an applause and they were forced to comply. Alice swung her decorated red bag over her shoulder, buttons and pins of all kinds littered across the fabric.

"So, we're stuck together for thanksgiving break." Alice glared at the boy with a green backpack on his shoulders.

"What makes you think that I'd even spend any time with you?"

"A grade that is irreplaceable, you dickhead. Now hold out your hand." Phil raised an eyebrow but held out his hand, and she dropped a piece of paper in it from a foot up, careful to avoid any contact at all.

"What's this?"

"My number. Bye. Call me as soon as you can, maybe if we get this done early we can spend most of the week as far away from each other as possible." And with that, Alice Barker walked away, leaving a seething and strangely pleased Phil Shortman behind.

Phil all but stomped up to his room the second he got home, only to have his mother follow him up.

"Phil? Honey?" Helga Pataki, mother of four and acclaimed writer asked her youngest son from the other side of his slammed door.

"What?"

"Is something wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing is wrong, I've simply been put in a foul mood due to the fact that I have an over-the-holiday project with the bane of my existence."

"Who?"

Phil opened his door, poking his head out to look at his mother.

"Alice Barker." He muttered, the name like bile on his tongue.

"You mean that crazy chick who wears the biker boots and is always climbing up the street lamps?" Helga raised an eyebrow, mildly interested in how this event might play out.

"...Yes. I'm being forced against my will to write a play with her over the break by that cur, Leach Eater." Phil grit his teeth, feeling downcast and angry.

"Well...If you've got a project to do, you're going to have to deal with her, even if she is a nutcase." Helga took this opportunity to ruffle her sons hair, making him slightly spaz out and smooth out his hair, giving her a tiny glare.

"...Fine, if I must." He sighed.

"That's my boy," Helga started walking down the stairs. "Oh! By the way, Zacks coming to visit for the week tomorrow!" She called up, causing Phils eyes to widen, before he slammed his forehead against the door frame before slamming the door. Oh, it will be a long, long week, indeed.

Phil stared long and hard at the slip of paper in his hand, before picking up his cell phone (that he really didn't need, but his parents insisted on getting him) and dialing the number. Hmph, he could practically feel the tumor growing as he pressed the infernal little machine up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"It's Phil."

"Oh, hey." Her voice changed to a monotone, dull but slightly melodic tone as it usually did when she was speaking to him (but then again, she barely spoke to anyone else.)

"Since we need to get this damned thing over with, I propose meeting at your place to write a script and get character designs done." his voice was heavy with irritation, his brow scrunched up in frustration at having to even speak with this girl.

"Can't. My mother doesn't let anyone in the house because we have a lot of antiques, so I'll just have to come over to your place, or we could go somewhere public. Wah, no, get away! Go eat a rat or something!" Her voice grew distant as she held the phone away from her face, and in his own room Phil raised an eyebrow. "Ahem, that was the damn cat. So, what do you want to do?"

Phil thought about it for a while. She only lived down the street, and neither could drive into town without the help of family, but Phil didn't want to be seen with this infernal beast in public...But then there was Zack...Phil made himself believe that his mother would make Zack leave them alone if she came to his house, so that was what he decided.

"Okay. I'll be there at noon, tomorrow. Bye."

"Bye."

He hung up the phone, glad that the conversation was finally over. Realization dawned on him at that moment though. Zack was going to show up to a girl already here in Phils company, or a girl was going to show up asking for him while his older brother was here. Phil fell forward onto his bed, realizing that his brother was going to give him hell tomorrow. Oh joy.

Uhm..yeah...There should be about 3-5 chapters in this...since it's like a little short story...yeah...DON'T JUDGE ME.