If there was one feeling Arnold Shortman understood, it was sorrow.
It had been three years since his parents Miles and Stella vanished in the jungles of San Lorenzo in their attempts to help the Green-Eyed People combat some malady known as the "sleeping sickness". While Miles' parents, Phil and Gertrude, filled in the role to the best of their abilities, Arnold knew that the hole in his heart could never truly be filled.
Yet, because of his grandparents Arnold never let his sadness really get to him; on the contrary, the loss of his parents as well as the stories Grandpa Phil told him lit a fire in him to be the kind of son they would be proud of. And on that rainy first day of preschool, as Arnold looked at the forlorn and mud-covered girl in pink he didn't need to be told twice as to what to do.
*fwump*.
Completely taken aback by the sudden reprieve of the falling rain, four year old Helga Pataki looked up at the unfurled umbrella. Up to that point, her morning had been nothing but tragedy. Mom and Dad were too smitten with her sister Olga playing piano to take her to her first day of preschool forcing her to walk through Hillwood's most derelict streets, it had begun to rain something awful the very second her front door closed, her clothes were soaked with muddy water from a passing car and her lunchbox had been purloined by a stray mutt. It all sounded so contrived when she processed it in her head, as if she was looking for someone to notice her.
"Hi. Nice Bow."
"Huh" She squeaked.
"I like your bow, because it's pink like your pants." He continued.
Helga looked down at the boy with the oblong cranium sheltering her from the elements. His warm and honest face rivaled the sun itself and his words felt like a comforting blanket. Helga's entire body glowed as the boy walked her to the door of the preschool. Granted they had shared two steps together under his umbrella and part of her wished he'd have shown up sooner, but his generosity seemed to negate the bone-drenching journey she had undertook. She lingered in the doorway and let out a subtle coo while her newfound champion entered the preschool and went about his business.
"So this is what it must feel like to be noticed. To be cared for. Maybe his head is a little…distinctive, shall we say, but his heart. Oh his heart, his simple, caring uncorrupt heart, how it quenches and replenishes my shriveled and corroded disposition. You, the dewy morning for my withered field, the oasis amidst my desert of neglect. What saint are you, that I may follow as your disciple?"
"Um, aren't you coming in? Class is starting and I don't want you to be late."
With his coat hung up, Arnold comes back to the door and pushes it open for her to enter. She snaps back to reality and steps into the school. Arnold runs off into the room and quickly goes about making friends, particularly with one African American boy whose hair brings to mind a skyscraper. Helga took the opportunity to use the bathroom and try to make some effort at cleaning herself before class.
"Alright boys and girls." Called their teacher Mr. Frank. "It's circle time."
Helga looked at herself in the mirror. She had barely begun to look halfway decent enough for class. Her face, and not much else had been cleaned up before the teacher called his students together. Meanwhile, outside the bathroom, the children had already begun to say their name, age and a fun fact about themselves.
"My face is at least clean." She thought to herself. "Might as well go out."
"Alright so next we have…"
The bathroom door creaked open revealing a mud-caked Helga Pataki.
"Goodness gracious. What happened to you?" Shouted Mr. Frank.
"Well, my name is Helga Pataki. I'm four. And I walked here all by myself. I had my lunch stolen by a dog, and a car splashed me with mud."
The rest of her peers began to whisper and giggle over Helga's presence; that is all but one football-headed peer who stood up, took her hand and lead her to the circle time rug. Laminated placemats with a designated shape had been placed in a semicircle (hence the name). He returned to his space, marked with a blue truck and gestured for her to seat herself next to him, atop the space with the pink heart. Helga began to feel a-flutter again.
"Alright nobody move while I call Helga's parents." Mr. Frank said in a flustered tone. He turned and started muttering about how middle schoolers wouldn't be as much of a hassle.
"So your name is Helga. I'm Arnold. Arnold Shortman." They shook hands, and again her body weakened.