Disclaimer: You all already know I don't own this stuff, just my writings.
Author's Notes: Been a while, hasn't it? Time to pick up where we left off.
Arnold had woken up to another nightmare that morning, his alarm clock saying his name being the screaming voices in his dreams and sending the poor boy bolting upright and drenched in a cold sweat. His mind had been wrought with them for the last week or so and today's had been the worst. This had to be a sign of something, but he still had no idea what. Pulling his soaked pajamas from his body and finding clean clothing, he swallowed and tried to gather his nerves.
Going downstairs, it seemed that he wasn't the only one on edge or feeling something strange in the air. Grandma was actually acting...normal. She kissed Arnold's head as she gave him his cereal, saying good morning and that he looked pale.
"Morning, Grandma." He said tiredly, looking at the chunks floating in his milk and seeing them bubble, then sink when they finally became too saturated. It made his stomach turn and he pushed the bowl away.
"Not hungry? Would you rather something else, Arnold?" She said in her sweet tone.
"No thanks. I think I'm just gonna head to school. Bye Grandma."
"Arnold?"
"Yeah?" He looked over his shoulder as he headed out the door.
"Be careful today. I love you."
She never said that. Arnold knew that both his Grandma and Grandpa loved him, but they never were huge about saying it, especially in the eerie tone of voice she had used. His skin prickled with worry and stress as he neared the school, trying to feel comforted when Gerald joined him and they began to talk about the latest happenings, but he couldn't shake the feeling from his mind. He would stop in front of the doors to PS 118 and his stomach did a flip. Something was telling him that there was something bad, that he should turn around and go home and bury his face in Grandpa's shoulder and cry.
"Hey Arnold, you okay man? You look kinda sick." Gerald said, urging his friend inside as the bell screamed far too loudly in Arnold's ear.
"Yeah...Yeah, I'm okay. Let's go." He took that heavy step in, wondering if he was the only one to be feeling this way.
The classroom seemed as normal as could be. The students filed in, looking sluggish and sleepy still. Most everyone seemed to not be noticing anything out of the ordinary. There were a few discrepancies though that Arnold noticed. Three seats were currently empty. One he knew why, Lila had gotten a bad chest cold and was home sick. Phoebe was also missing and Curly's seat was ominously empty. He wondered if the school had really transferred him elsewhere or to a hospital. The last thing he noticed was that Helga, who normally would either sleeping or getting ready to pelt him with spitballs, looked weary and ever so slightly paranoid, her eyes darting back and forth around the room. It didn't help to quell any nervousness in Arnold as he took his seat, the door closing and Mr. Simmons walking in with his normal cheerful greeting.
Things seemed fine. Half an hour, an hour, two hours passed. Maybe he was just having an off day, maybe he was just imagining things.
The door opened at 10:45 am to Mr. Simmons class. A young boy walked in, a semi automatic gun strapped to his back, the one his father had planned to give to him on his 18th birthday. In his pocket like a holster, a loaded pistol. On his belt loop, a freshly sharpened pocket knife. And around his neck, a silver cross. All the screaming that had gone on in Arnold's dreams suddenly came back to his mind and though he was never much of a believer in God, he found himself praying harder than he ever would in his life.