Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold and co. This is a fanfiction and is in no way the thoughts or commentaries of the show's creators or owners.


Screaming could be heard permeating through the walls from the house next door. It never accrued to her just how close the fire had gotten. The room was hot and the walls seemed to glow with an unnatural light. Smoke drifted through the ceiling; the rooms above already filled. The floor moaned with every movement; its wooden beams weakened.

Like all children do, Helga had thought about fires before. She had imagined her home burning up, and often times wished there was a way to send her troubles up with it. She'd rehearsed her fire escape plan many times before this night. She had even shared countless conversations on such a topic with her best friend Phoebe. Helga made it clear she wouldn't go back for anything in her house; as long as she made it out, that was all that mattered.

But that was a lie.

The smoke was now choking her as she opened the door to her closet. Inside, her previous memorabilia was melting from the flames that were now burning through the wall. The fire was right on top of her now, but she couldn't leave the items she treasured most. It was all she had left, including years of hopelessness repressed in the pages of that book; years she wouldn't be able to live without.

Helga entered the flaming area and flung aside the smoldering piles of old shines and empty passions. Then, her hands stuck the small box; the box full of her dear things. She grabbed it and scrambled out of the cramped area; the clothes erupted into fuel for the flame. She screamed as a wave of heat rushed over her body. She got to her feet.

"Helga! Helga!" Miriam could be heard screaming from somewhere else in the house. "You've got to get out!"

Oh, she had been trying for years to do just that; get out of this house. The flames flowed out of the closet and ran up the wall to the ceiling. At any moment it would all come crashing down.

"Helga!" Bob was now yelling at the door. Helga couldn't believe he'd come back up here for her. He thrust his body into the door to open it. The rush of oxygen rich air only fueled the fire more. The room was now ablaze.

o.

"Hey Arnold!"

It was five in the morning. What on Earth could anyone want at five in the morning? Needless to say, Mr. Kokoshka could always find something to bother him with.

Arnold opened his eyes wearily and gazed out of the skyline. The starless morning seemed to taunt him as the annoying calls came once more from his bedroom door. The teen now wished he'd raised the staircase to his room before he had gone to bed.

Sigh. At least Oskar wasn't waking his grandparents, they needed their rest. Arnold would gladly take all the complaints of the boarders over his grandparents. With great effort, the teen threw off his covers and sat up in his bed; a nagging dreariness taunted his eyes to return to their closed positions.

"I'd have to get up in an hour away," This fact did not lessen the pain.

Another knock came from the door.

"Arnold, I've been standing here for thirty seconds. When are you coming to the door?"

"I'm getting there, Mr. Kokoshka." Arnold stood to his feet and stretched. Whatever Oskar was complaining about would probably be a pointless run around for the rest of the morning. Arnold had become accustomed to Oskar's whining as of late. Suzie had returned to school in hopes of pursuing a career, which left her husband "helplessly" loafing around the house demanding others to spoil him as his wife had done. Yet Arnold wasn't mad at the inactive border. Arnold loved his odd little family too much to hate any of them, or their corks.

"Arnold, I need you to hurry up. I'm hungry and I can't make my sandwich."

Arnold opened the door still in his pajamas, as was the man before him.

"I'm not going to make you a sandwich, if that's what you want," Arnold frowned as the adult hardened his expression. "You can do that for yourself, Mr. Kokoshka."

"I was trying to do it myself, but your friend messed it all up. She's the one who ruined my sandwich and now I need you to make it for me."

"Huh?" Arnold was still too tired to fully understand what it was the border was talking about. "Why don't you wait until morning? Grandma will make breakfast and you . . ."

"I'm hungry now, Arnold," Oskar persisted. "And I don't think grandma wants to clean the whole kitchen herself."

"What?"

The oddity of the statement drew Arnold out of his room. He still wasn't fully awake as he rounded the corner into the kitchen; the light was almost too bright to see anything. In his temporary blindness, Arnold had entered the kitchen without any caution. At the sound of a light crack, a sharp pain ran up Arnold's leg; he had stepped on something and he knew it was glass. Arnold let out a crisp cry, doing his best to stifle the noise so not to wake the other boarders.

"Why didn't you tell me there was glass on the floor?" Arnold spoke through clenched teeth, his eyes instantly adjusting to the light to reveal broken shard scattered around the room.

"You didn't ask me," Oskar shrugged. "I didn't make the mess. That girl made the mess. You should be mad at her."

"It doesn't matter right now," Arnold lifted his foot to examine it. There didn't appear to be any glass in the now bleeding wound. Still, there was enough blood to make Arnold feel it would be best to properly clear and dress his foot. "Oskar, could you get the broom and start cleaning this up?" Arnold knew it was a long shot, but he had to ask anyway.

"But I didn't do it. You don't believe me." The man spoke loudly in his defense.

"No Oskar, I didn't say you did it," Arnold tried to calm the man. "I just need to clean my foot and I don't want someone else to get hurt." The teen began hopping out.

"So you leave me to do it. This isn't fair." Oskar went to the closet and retrieved the broom. As much as he hated working, he had come to learn that it was best to do the little things asked of him, this way Arnold would be happy enough never to force him to do anything major.

Arnold made it to the downstairs bathroom and sat down on the toilet lid. He again looked at the cut in his foot. It was a clean, straight cut. Arnold took some toilet paper and cleared the blood away to get a better look. Reaching over, Arnold grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and dabbed a cotton swab with the rubbing alcohol found inside. Arnold took a deep breath before cleaning the cut with the swab. This motion stung more than Arnold had anticipated and he had to bite his lower lip to keep from yelping. He bandaged the foot and limped back out to the kitchen. Oskar had managed to sweep around two kitchen chairs before sitting down at the table.

"I got some of it up for you," Oskar motioned toward the broom. "I left it out for you to finish up with. I'm kind of sleepy after all that work; I'm going to bed."

"Do you think you could grab a pair of shoes for me first?" Arnold asked, afraid to step out onto the floor again.

"You can get them, you know where they are." Oskar left without another word.

Arnold sighed as he surveyed the damage. He couldn't imagine what dish could have broken to cause such a mess. There was glass everywhere. It couldn't have been a cup or bowl, maybe the coffee pot? But even that was too small.

"Hey."

Arnold jumped at the new voice behind him. He turned quickly to see the newest member to the boardinghouse, Helga.

"I was coming back to clean it up; I just wanted to get my shoes." Helga extended her hand expecting him to hand over the broom. She was wide awake and was even dress for the day. This wasn't an odd thing for her. She made it a point to be up before the other boarders everyday and she often went out for coffee or a walk in the park until the morning routine of the Sunset Arms had come to a close.

"It's okay Helga, I've got it."

Helga let out a small snort before yanking the broom from the weary boy's hand. It took a moment for Arnold to understand what just happened as Helga went on to sweeping the kitchen. He watched her for a moment, listening to the bits of glass clang against each other.

"If I help you, this would go faster." Arnold offered.

Helga didn't answer, which meant Arnold was being given the option to leave or stay on his own. Arnold went back to the closet and grabbed the hand broom, dust pan and a pair of shoes; though not his, they fit well enough. He came back to the kitchen and set to work scooping up the swept piles of glass and discarding them into the trash. The two worked in silence for nearly twenty minutes sweeping the room. Arnold's knees had become sore from crawling around, but it beat standing on his foot the entire time to sweep. Now that the room was clean, Arnold felt bold enough to ask,

"What broke?" He looked to Helga as she went to put the broom away.

"I knocked a few cups out of the cupboard." Came the flat reply.

"Pretty big mess for just a few cups." Arnold came up behind her to place his items in the closet.

Helga shrugged in response. The closet door was shut as the two stood silently for a moment. Arnold knew better than to probe her for an answer; he'd find out soon enough when the item was needed by one of the boarders. He sighed, wishing there was a way to get back the sleep he had lost.

"Well," Helga made her way to the front door. "I'm going for a walk."

"Don't you think it's kinda dangerous to walk alone, at this time?" Arnold wore a concerned expression as she opened the door; the boarder's pets taking this opportunity to re-enter the house after their night spent outside.

"I don't really care." She left closing Arnold in with the small group of animals.

Arnold heaved another sigh. He hated the idea of her being out alone, but no amount of persuasion would change her mind. Instead, Arnold decided to get ready for school a little early, as well as get ready for the morning rush.

Arnold enjoyed the few minutes of peace he got before the other boarders woke up. He didn't have to wait in line for the bathroom, he made his own breakfast and he even had time enough to spend a few extra quiet moments studying for his history test.

But all serenity was quickly forgotten as the Sunset Arms roared to life with people scrambling around to get ready for work. Insults were flying in the bathroom line, fights braking out in the dining room, loud conversations being carried in the living room area . . . It made Arnold wonder why he never thought to wake up earlier before.

Arnold left the ranting of his odd family to join his grandmother in the kitchen. She was rummaging through the cupboards while precariously balancing on the back of a chair. Arnold's heart nearly skipped a beat as his grandma almost lost her footing.

"Grandma, why don't you let me help you!" Arnold took his grandmother's hand and helped her step down from the chair.

"Thank you sire," the elder woman smiled.

"What is it you're looking for grandma?" Arnold climbed the chair and looked inside the empty cabinet.

"See that's just it," his grandmother place a finger to her lips. "I can't quite remember what I'm looking for, but I can guarantee you won't find it in there. It's empty, your highness."

To Arnold's surprise, the cupboard was completely bare. There were no cups, bowls, plates, mugs, nothing. He searched the top shelve and even the cabinet next to this one; empty. There seemed to be only one glass left in the sink; dirty no doubt.

"That's more than a few cups." Arnold scolded.

"What's that shortman?" Arnold's grandfather then entered the room and took a seat at the kitchen table. He was a tired looking man due to his age, but he always wore a smile and took on the world with a surprisingly youthful approach; the quality Arnold loved best about both his grandparents.

"Nothing grandpa," Arnold lied as he stepped down from the chair. "But I think we're out of cups."

"Don't tell me Oscar's been stealin' from us again," Arnold's grandpa slammed a fist on the table. "He better not have takin' the good china. I'd better call the pawnshop."

"No grandpa, just a few cheap dishes got, misplaced is all." Arnold didn't want to work up his grandparents. Arnold did everything in his power to help his grandparents around the boardinghouse. Now that he was older, Arnold could take more responsibilities away from his aging care-givers. To be honest, it was his way of paying them back. Deep down he knew the boardinghouse's continued existence was to help pay for his being there. At their age, Arnold's grandparents shouldn't have had to be raising a child, putting up with teenage dramas or worrying about how to pay for next year's college tuition. But here they were, never complaining, but doing their best to give him all they could.

"In fact, I'll get us some new ones," Arnold smiled at his grandparents as he made his way for the door. "I'm gonna get going."

"Okay, you have fun at school," the elderly man watched his grandson head out, always optimistic and hopefully ready for his test.


(A/N) Thank you for reading. This is my first HA story on this site, and my first one since like 1990-something. I love constructive criticism, so feel free to leave reviews. I've obviously aged the characters and have put them through many trying situations that I don't go into depth with here in chapter 1, so the characters may seem different than they were in the show. But please let me know if I'm way off base with them. Thanks!