Sunny Side Up

By Shahrezad1

Summary: It's been years since elementary, and time's passed for everyone. As adults, can Arnold and Helga get past their melancholy pasts and finally see the bright side again?

Standard disclaimer here. Don't own, just enjoy. End.

Chapter 1

The teacher, a man of average height but of an unaveragely pleasant personality, handed the papers back to each of his fourth grade students. Jonah watched avidly as the kind man finally reached him, bestowing the paper upon his with a smile.

"Excellent job, Jonah. Especially for your first assignment in our class," the blonde adult smiled, even going so far as to bestow a wink on the boy, "I'm sure your mom will be proud."

The boy beamed silently, taking a moment to lift the corner of his paper (A ), even as he imagined the look on his mother's face. While he did well in school, in general, his passion was writing. Prose particularly. It only seemed fitting that his inspiration, his muse, was the mother than he adored. The mother he would always protect and love.

The bell rang with no further ado, and Jonah's new classmates streamed from the room, the boy included. All that remained was the teacher and a small, bespectacled little girl. He had one page remaining, and softly placed it upon her desk. She ducked her shoulders in an effort to cease to exist. He sighed softly, and crouched until he was at her level.

"Elena, you—."

"Don't say it! Just don't say it!" the miniature brunette shouted, rising only in order to shove all her work in her backpack, "it stinks, I know. You don't have to remind me."

The teacher sighed, hand rubbing the back of his head and the ruffled cowlick there, "Elena, I wasn't going to say that. It just needs a little work, that's all."

The girl angrily frowned, arms crossing over her tiny chest, "why couldn't it have been about…aliens! Or princesses in towers!"

Frustration was tightly held in check as the adult's eye began to twitch, "it was about someone you knew, Elena. That's not a hard subject. You could have written about Uncle Gerald, or one of the triplets. Or even the Librarian—I know you like her. Why did you have to make someone up?"

"Imaginary friends aren't made up!" she shouted, tiny fingers curling into fists, "they're real! Like Mom's real! She isn't here, but that doesn't mean she isn't real! And you write about dead people all the time!"

"Elena Stella Babcock!" the man barked out, hands on hips in anger. Regardless, after his initial words his speech returned to its former steadiness. Tone disappointed, but steady, "you will not refer to your mother in such a manner, nor treat me that way. Do you understand me?"

Her face and bright green eyes scrunched up behind her glasses, and she stomped toward the door, "you're just angry that your precious daughter isn't absolutely perfect! You think of me more as your student then as your kid!"

"Elena…"the man gaped in surprise and hurt, "how could you think that I--."

A basketball dropped as Jonah stood in the doorway, shock littering his features. He'd forgotten his assignment, and had come back to get it, only to see the shy, quiet girl that sat behind him abruptly burst into anger.

Her…dad? Their teacher was her dad?

The girl who had been the first to befriend him, the first to say hello, furrowed her face up in a scowl and shoved him aside. Emitting the first words that came to her furious mind, "move it, basketball face!"

Then she was gone. And with it, Jonah's confidence. What…what just happened? Did she just call me a… 'basketball face'? A single tear trickled down his cheek, and he ducked his head in grief, forgetting all about his paper as he began to retreat.

"Jonah! Jonah, she didn't mean it, I swear," the teacher rushed to his side, blonde hair ruffled and green eyes worried. The small boy sniffled silently, and his mentor risked a lawsuit with a small half-hug, "she's just angry. Angry at me, at that. And you were her scapegoat. She didn't mean it."

"O-Okay," the child replied softly, hiding his face from the man, "it's just, that's kinda like w-what…my mom called my dad. Basketball for br-brains."

A wry smile, "your mom called your dad that? Seriously?"

"Before they di-divorced."

"Ah," the teacher nodded, suddenly understanding, "I'm sorry, then. I'll ask her not to call you that anymore."

"Thank you," the boy whispered.

"Here, how about I walk you outside. Do you have a ride waiting for you?" The adult noticed the paper left at the new student's seat, and silently handed it to him, before ushering him out, post-briefcase retrieval.

"My m-mom."

The adult grinned, "the lucky lady with the story written about her. Is she really a boxer?"

Jonah smiled, grey eyes lighting as he recognized his favorite subject being introduced, "yeah! She was her college champion! And she was the star player on the basketball team!"

"And she writes poetry," the teacher added, remembering the boy's assignment.

"And she writes poetry," the boy added solemnly, respectfully. They reached the outer doors, wind buffeting them on all sides. Only two cars remained in the parking lot. A dented blue Sedan, belonging to the teacher, and an elegant pearlized pink Nissan. The teacher arched a brow, even as the boy began to smile. The driver side door had begun to open.

"Crimeny! What took you so long, Kiddo?"

The teacher blinked, forced to reconcile the image before him with the words. Jonah's mother was a slim blonde, hair slicked back into a long ponytail at the back of her neck and secured with a slim pink ribbon. Pink to match her car, and pink to match the blouse she wore, tucked into a set of casual jeans. Looking down at the boy, hair near black and skin a soft brown, he realized that the only trait they really shared was the single eyebrow that stretched across their eyebrows.

"Thanks for your help, Mr. Arnold! I really appreciate it!" And then the boy was gone, having run to the car, "sorry for being late, Mom. I accidentally left my paper in the classroom."

Her reply was lost blowing wind, but Arnold didn't miss the fond smile she bestowed on him.

Helga? Helga was Jonah's mom?!

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--The pink Nissan was created in tribute to my mother (the make, since her car is one of the most elegant machine's I've ever seen, and definitely an indication as to her personality), as well as my roommate (the color. She does Mary Kay, and I didn't believe her when she said that they still make pink cars for well-deserving associates. Imagine my shock. Thankfully, they're rather classy, and not Pepto Bismal pink).