Author's note: Thank you so much for the comments and feedback, everyone! I appreciate it so much! Here's part two :]
Part Two
A week later
"Class, class, please settle down," Mr. Simmons pleaded as the bell rang. "Curly, please stop sniffing the gluesticks, it's really not good for your health."
Curly simply grinned and stashed the three gluesticks in his desk.
"So, class, today your contest entries are due! Now, from what I recall, Eugene, Harold, Stinky, Phoebe, Gerald and Arnold were interested in entering? Would anyone like to share what I'm sure is their very special essay?"
Phoebe raised her hand. "I would like to share my essay with the class, Mr. Simmons." Mr. Simmons nodded and signaled for her to stand up. "My name is Phoebe Hyerdahl, and I am in Mr. Simmons' 4th grade class at P.S. 118. I find the historically rich culture of the continent of South America very fascinating, as well as…"
Helga stifled her yawn, only because Phoebe was her best friend. She was eagerly anticipating hearing Arnold's essay.
Harold read his aloud next. "I really, really like chocolate," he grinned. "And would really…life—whoops, I mean 'like'…I got a chocolate stain on my paper…" The class laughed while Mr. Simmons smiled encouragingly.
Eugene tripped on his way to the front of the classroom and decided not to read his essay. Stinky and Gerald also opted out of reading aloud, leaving just one essay left to be read—Arnold's.
"Arnold, would you like to share your essay with the class?" Mr. Simmons asked.
Arnold rubbed the back of his football-shaped head. Helga could almost reach out and touch his adorably soft and sweet-smelling hair… "I don't know, Mr. Simmons. It's…sort of a personal story."
"Well, come on, if the contest judges get to read it, I think we should get to hear it," Sid remarked. Various shouts of agreement followed.
"Now, class, Arnold doesn't have to read it if he doesn't…" Mr. Simmons began, but Arnold stood up, clutching his paper. "It's okay, Mr. Simmons. I'll read it." He walked up to the front of the room, looking slightly self-conscious.
"My name is Arnold, and I am in Mr. Simmons' 4th grade class at P.S. 118. I grew up most of my life in a boarding house run by my grandfather, and was raised by my grandparents since I was just a baby. For years, Grandpa would tell me stories about my parents that I thought could never, in a million years, be true. He told me my mother, Stella, was a scientist, coming up with solutions and medicines to diseases that had once been though incurable. He told me my father, Miles, was an explorer, trying to bring peace to various tribes across the world. I thought my grandfather made up all those great stories about my parents—until I found my father's journal in the attic. I read all about how my parents met, and how they traveled across South America together. I read about my own childhood, and then suddenly…the journal ended. Not one word was mentioned about my parents' possible, current whereabouts, and nobody knows what happened to them. The only thing I found was a map, and I think it's a map of the route my parents took on their last trip. I hope I can win this trip to South America so I can finally solve the mystery about what happened to the two people who gave me the small blue hat sitting on my head." At the last sentence, Arnold, almost instinctively, reached up to touch his tiny blue hat.
The class applauded; Mr. Simmons' eyes were filled with tears. "Arnold…that was wonderful, and a very special essay indeed."
"Willikers! I din't know your parents had just up left and disappeared," Stinky exclaimed.
Even Helga's eyes began to tear, although she quickly swiped at her eyes to hide it.
"Well…thanks, guys," Arnold said, smiling sheepishly and handing his essay to Mr. Simmons, who was dabbing at his eyes with a tissue. Arnold returned to his seat, and Helga tapped him on the shoulder.
When he turned to look at her—straight in the eyes—Helga quickly glanced down at her desk, twiddling her thumbs. "Hey…Arnold…I'm s-sorry to hear about…your parents," she said softly, as if each word were costing her great strength. She looked up. Arnold smiled at her, and she could feel her brain turning to mush. "It's okay, Helga. Thanks."
Oh, Arnold. My poor beleaguered soul, cut off from a customary childhood, having no parents to fill the dark, profound hole in your good-intentioned heart or to guide you through your woebegone life. Helga could feel a goofy smile begin to creep upon her face, and quickly snapped herself out of it. "Yeah, well, that still won't change the fact that I hate your stinking guts!"
Arnold rolled his eyes, although he was still smiling. "Whatever you say, Helga."
---
A week later
Mr. Simmons eagerly burst through the door of the classroom, ignoring Curly, who was sitting on the bookshelf, gluing pages of books together and cackling madly. "Class! Class, I have some very exciting and special news."
"Student council nominations have been announced?" Phoebe asked, pushing up her classes.
"They're finally putting new soap in boy's terlet?" Stinky inquired.
"We got new cafeteria chefs! Yeaaaahh!" Harold cheered.
Mr. Simmons smiled at his students. "Nope, it's not one of those. It's something even more exciting and special. The winner of the South America essay has been announced, and it's someone from this class!"
Many of the students gasped. Eugene bit his lip nervously, while Phoebe clasped her hands together. Gerald grinned at Arnold.
"It's gotta be Arnold. His essay can't be beat," Sid praised. Seeing the slightly hurt look upon Phoebe's face, he added, "No offense."
Mr. Simmons opened the manila envelope tucked under his arm, unsheathing a piece of paper. "And the winner is our very own…Arnold!" The whole class erupted in cheers, except for Phoebe, whose eyes began to water. Gerald put an arm around her. "It's okay, you tried your best," he reassured her. He then reached over to punch Arnold on the arm lightly.
"The judges wrote… 'Arnold's essay was very touching and we hope this boy will be able to find his parents.' Another judge wrote, 'I have personally met explorers Miles and Stella, and I sincerely hope Arnold will be reunited with his parents.' The third judge said, 'Arnold's essay was emotionally powerful and we wish him the best of luck on his journey.' Isn't that just fantastic?" Mr. Simmons asked, digging into the manila envelope and doling out plane tickets to everybody. "Congratulations, Arnold!"
Arnold smiled, glancing down at his plane ticket. "Thanks, Mr. Simmons." The flight was scheduled for next Monday. Six days. Arnold could feel his pulse pounding. In just six days, he would be on his way to possibly solving the mystery forever.
"Uh, Mr. Simmons?" Rhonda piped up. "We are flying first class, aren't we?"
"Uh…no," the teacher replied. Rhonda scoffed. "But I'm sure flying in second class will be just as every bit of a special experience. Now, class, I've also compiled a list of supplies you will need to pack. We will be camping out, remember, so…"
"Wait a sec here, boss. We're camping? In the middle of the wilderness? In a foreign country?" Helga asked.
"Um, yes, Helga, that is correct. Won't that be just a special experience?"
Helga scowled and crossed her arms. "Yeah, if you're like bears sitting outside just waiting to eat your brains out," she muttered.
"I'm oh-so certain that I've never camped out before, but I do look forward to learning new skills," Lila Sawyer exclaimed. Many of the boys whispered and nodded in agreement. Helga growled. She had never been Lila's number one fan, even though she was pretty certain Arnold's crush on her had ended.
"I hope there are a variety of bugs in the wilderness," Nadine remarked. Sid wrinkled his nose. "That's exactly what I don't hope for! Think of all the bug spray I'd need!"
"I am going to pack my state-of-the-art TechTent. It regulates the temperature inside and provides 24-hour relief from all kinds of bugs," Rhonda stated.
"How are we gonna use the bathroom?" Stinky wondered, scratching his head.
"I'm gonna bring a whole suitcase full of food!" Harold yelled.
"Hey, Arnold, you okay?" Gerald asked, taking his arm off of Phoebe long enough to nudge his best friend, who was still staring at his plane ticket. "You're being kinda quiet."
"I'm fine," Arnold said, looking up. "I just can't believe this is actually going to happen."