The Secret
By Cybra

A/N: You tolerate me! You really tolerate me! :::grin::: Just kidding! Thanks for the reviews! I'd like to answer one reviewer personally.

JESS - No, Arnold's not the son of a god (though that'd be really kickin' if he was!). It wasn't anything you guessed at all, but thanks for the speculation! I like reading what's going on in my readers' heads! Also, Arnold's secret is something that can be either really good or really bad, depending upon how it's used. I think you might like what I came up with though.

Disclaimer: Me? Own Hey Arnold!? hysterical laughter I wish! The show isn't mine, but this idea is!

Chapter 2: Field Trip

'Easy, stomach…' Arnold thought to himself, feeling a bit queasy. 'I begged Grandpa not to make his weird bacon with extra grease this morning! How could he forget?!'

The bus hit another pothole, jostling all its occupants. The war with his stomach began anew.

"You okay, man? You're lookin' a little green," his best friend noted…from across the aisle.

"Grandpa made his special bacon this morning for breakfast…" came the miserable reply.

"Well, if you're gonna throw up, do us all a favor and throw up out the window. Or, if ya miss, throw up on Helga."

"Brilliant idea," the ordinarily optimistic boy grumbled. "Do you think she'll wait to beat me up after we get off the bus or just pound me right after I puke?"

"Sorry, man."

A part of his mind that seemed obsessed with trying to lead him astray (a mind devil, if you will) gave Arnold a little idea. Quickly, he rejected the extremely tempting idea. It was unethical, unfair, and it was the very reason he didn't want his secret getting out.

Another jostle. He had to firm up his resolve as another wave of nausea hit him.

"A nature scavenger hunt. Probably the best idea the cream puff's had yet!" Helga exclaimed, looking over the list of clues.

Phoebe glanced over her shoulder, then turned completely around. "Are you okay, Arnold?"

"I've felt better," he admitted, drawing Helga's attention.

Though internally wincing, the blonde girl turned around and mocked, "So, you're not feelin' well, Football Head? Too bad…Looks like my group's gonna win since you'll be slowin' your group down."

Arnold shot her an irritated glare that lost most of its power when the bus jostled to one side again. He hastily swallowed and closed his eyes.

"Stomach?" Phoebe asked sympathetically, subtly kicking Helga in the shin. There was only so much mocking she could hear from her best friend, and mocking anyone while they weren't feeling well was one thing she couldn't stand.

He nodded and opened his eyes, silently pleading with her for any tips she might know.

The girl in the blue sweater held out her arm. "Take your index finger and press in the soft spot that's close to the underside of your elbow. There's a nerve there that'll settle your stomach."

Gratefully, Arnold followed her instructions, pressing for a few minutes. When he stopped, he felt much better. "Thanks, Phoebe."

"No problem."

Helga lightly poked her best friend. "Oh, great! Now his group stands a chance of actually winning! This was a golden opportunity, Pheebs! Without Arnold, his group wouldn't stand a chance!"

"Hey!" Gerald indignantly shouted.

Phoebe and Helga both laughed and turned back around the right way in their seats. Arnold chuckled and shook his head, partly because of the way Helga had been teasing her best friend and partly because of the way his own best friend had reacted to Helga's statement.

"Man! Can you believe that?!" Gerald growled, glaring holes in the back of Helga's head.

"Don't let her get to you, Gerald. I don't."

"Yeah, well…She just makes me had sometimes!"

The blonde girl and her best friend merely exchanged amused, knowing grins.

~@~

"Now, class, remember: No matter how many objects you still need, when it's three o'clock, return to the bus immediately. We don't want anyone getting lost," Mr. Simmons instructed, grinning as widely as his students. "And if you get lost or someone in your group gets hurt, I've taken special precautions."

With a dramatic flourish, the teacher yanked a cloth off of the mysterious box he'd been carrying the whole time. Inside lay several walkie-talkies. The children ooh'd and ah'd approvingly. Mr. Simmons must've been planning this field trip for a long time.

"Each group will have one walkie-talkie. You'll all check in every thirty minutes so we're sure that nobody is having problems. Even if a friend of yours is in a different group than yours, do not use the walkie-talkie for socializing. We don't want the frequency being jammed with someone's conversation if there's really a problem. Besides, everyone would be able to hear what you're saying. Okay, kids?"

Loud cheering erupted from Mr. Simmons' class, showing their enthusiasm and approval. The walkie-talkies were quickly handed out to the different team captains: Harold, Arnold, Helga, and Sheena.

"All right!" Mr. Simmons shouted, holding up an air horn. "When I blow this air horn, everybody gets started. On your mark…"

The students in their teams tensed.

"Get set…"

The group captains signaled which way they wanted their teams to go.

The sudden bleat of the air horn interrupted the tranquil silence of Eagle Peak Park. Kids raced into the woods, captains shouting to be heard over the din.

Mr. Simmons smiled broadly as he watched his students disappear, turning on his own walkie-talkie. He had given each team what they needed: the clues list, a map of the area, a small first-aid kit (just in case), a bag for the items they collected, and the walkie-talkies to call for assistance.

In the meantime, there was nothing for him to do but sit back and catch up on grading homework during those long pauses between check-in times.

~@~

"'When I grow up, I want to be a tree'?" Gerald read, confused. "What the heck is that supposed ta mean?"

"A seed!" Stinky shouted, pleased that he knew the answer to this one. "We gotta look for a tree seed of some kind!"

Arnold grinned. Stinky was a farmer, so of course he'd know the answer. "Okay, so we need to find a seed." He bent down, searching the forest floor for something. "Aha!" He held up an acorn.

"One clue down, nineteen to go!" Sid stated, placing the acorn in their bag. "This is gonna be a cinch!"

"Um, Sid? Did you look at these clues?" the boy wearing the jersey asked, motioning to the paper he held.

The boy with the green cap read over the clues and gulped. "Okay…so maybe it won't be a cinch…"

The team captain checked his pocket watch. "Mr. Simmons should be calling us right about…now."

"Kids!" a friendly voice called over the walkie-talkie. "Time to check in! I'll call out the names of each of your team captains, and you all give me an idea of how you're doing!" A brief pause. "Harold?"

"Aw, your clues are really hard! Can't you give us a hint?"

"Sorry, Harold. That's not fair to anyone. Besides, it's figuring out the clues that makes a scavenger hunt so much fun!"

"Aw!"

"Shut up, Pink Boy!" Helga's charming voice shouted over the radio. "Mr. Simmons, I'm checking in for my team. We've already got the first clue done."

"Good job, Helga, Phoebe, Rhonda, and Nadine!" Another pause. "Sheena? How's your team doing?"

"We're doing just fine, Mr. Simmons. We can't figure out the answer to clue number one yet, but we did get clue number two!"

"Wonderful! Arnold, how're you four doing?"

Arnold pushed the button on the side of the walkie-talkie that activated the microphone.

~@~

On Helga's end, she could hear Arnold shushing the laughter of his teammates who were somewhere in the background. They must've been laughing at the way Harold was whining. She grinned at that.

"We have the first clue figured out, Mr. Simmons. We're working on the second clue," Arnold's disembodied voice reported.

"Excellent! Well, I won't delay you all any longer! Next check-in is in thirty minutes!"

That said, the frequency became silent.

"Well, Phoebe, what's clue number two?" the girl with the pink boy asked.

"It's very strange, Helga," she noted. Before anyone said anything, she read, "'I fly and soar high in the sky, but I'm just part of the one with wings.'"

"Wow. That first clue was really easy compared to this one," Nadine stated. "What can fly that has to be connected to something with wings?"

"I don't really care," Rhonda stated, picking a leaf out of her hair. "I just can't wait until this whole scavenger hunt is over."

"Sheena's team figured it out, so why can't we?" Helga asked, using great willpower in ignoring Rhonda.

Phoebe tapped her foot, re-reading the clue silently to herself. The answer was right on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't figure it out.

A sudden screech from overhead drew her group's attention upward. A hawk circled and landed on a branch overhead.

Suddenly, the most intelligent girl in the fourth grade shouted, "Of course! A feather! It can fly because it's on a bird!"

"Nice work, Phoebe!" Nadine congratulated. "Now all we need to do is get a feather off our friend up there."

"Looks like it," Helga agreed. "Good one, Pheebs."

Phoebe blushed modestly at the praise before she became serious. "But how do we get the feather?"

No one in the group had an answer for that one.

~@~

"You're almost there, Arnold!" Sid called from below him.

The boy with the odd-shaped head gulped and looked up at the bird's nest above him. If there was any place there would be a loose feather, it had to be in the middle of a bird's nest.

He looked back down at the ground and instantly regretted doing so. Gulping again, he looked back up and gripped the tree limb above him.

"'Don't worry, you guys. I'll go. It shouldn't be too hard,'" Arnold muttered mockingly to himself. "Sometimes I really wish I could stop myself from opening my big mouth."

Needless to say, Arnold was not enjoying his climb in the tree. One false step, and it would be a very long fall to the ground. Just in case, he'd given Gerald the walkie-talkie.

As he began taking his weight off of the limb he stood on, he heard a crack from that lower branch.

'If I fall, God, save my little broken body…' Arnold silently prayed.

He pushed off of that lower branch and swung himself up onto the branch his hands were gripping just as the branch his feet had been on snapped free of the tree. His teammates scrambled to avoid falling foliage.

Arnold froze in place for a moment, realizing how close he'd been to falling to great injury. He slowly inhaled and exhaled, trying to regain his earlier courage that had suddenly fled from his body.

Stinky shouted up to him, "You okay, Arnold?!"

"I'm fine!" he lied. "No sweat!" After a moment of silence, he muttered to himself as he reached for the next branch, "Who am I kidding? I'm scared to death!"

Apparently, his friends didn't realize that he had fibbed since they said nothing except to shout encouragement. He continued the long climb and reached the bird's nest.

Looking at the cheeping babies inside, he soon realized that he'd stumbled upon a bird of prey's nest. It was probably a hawk or eagle's nest.

He searched quickly for a feather, praying for whatever luck had gotten him this far to last a little longer. If Mommy Hawk or Mommy Eagle came back, Mommy was going to be very angry at her uninvited visitor.

A rusty red feather caught his eye. It was just within reach…

A sudden screech from his left alerted him that Mommy was coming home. Mentally cursing the Fates, Arnold snatched the feather, ignoring the way the hatchlings bit at his flesh. He tucked the feather into his shirt.

"Gotta go."

He hurriedly began to climb down, almost falling once or twice in his haste before he was low enough to jump down without breaking a leg.

"Did ya get it, Arnold?" Stinky asked.

"Right here!" Arnold triumphantly held out the feather.

"I knew he could do it!" Gerald shouted, slapping his friend on the back amiably.

Stinky grinned and held out his hand to Sid. "That means you better pay up, Sid."

"Aw…" Sid gave his taller friend a bag of jellybeans. "Take them."

"Much obliged."

The blonde boy stared. "You guys were betting on whether or not I could get the feather?"

"Sure were."

On the outside, the boy who had risked serious injury to grab a feather was calm. On the inside, he was entertaining thoughts of Mommy Hawk swooping down and pecking their eyes out.

As Arnold was inwardly fuming, Gerald read the next clue, "'I am worn until I'm smooth and normally wet.' Easy. A rock from a river."

"Or that creek we passed earlier!" Sid shouted.

"Not so loud! We don't want anyone else overhearing!"

The four boys quickly trooped to the creek and searched for a nice smooth stone.

"It's actually purdy nice out here," the country boy stated. "It's peaceful and – Woah!"

The other three jerked their heads in their friend's direction just in time to see him tumble from sight. They immediately rushed over to their friend.

"Stinky!" Sid shouted.

"Oh, man!" Gerald added.

The blonde winced as Sid stared then stated, "That's gotta hurt."

"How bad is it?" Stinky asked, gritting his teeth.

His right ankle had started to swell to twice its normal size. It obviously had been twisted in the fall.

"Let's just say that you're not gonna be able to walk on it." Arnold snatched the walkie-talkie from a stunned Gerald and pressed the transmitter button. "Mr. Simmons, Stinky's taken a bad fall. It looks like he's sprained his ankle."

"Oh dear. Wrap up his ankle and help him get back here. I'll be waiting with some aspirin for the pain and some cream to put on it. That should help."

"Right, Mr. Simmons." Arnold released the button.

Stinky looked up pathetically at his three friends. "This really bites."