Now then...
HumanDictionary - I always thought that Bob must have SOME talent if he managed to have a business for so long, and he WOULD have learned something from his dealings with Sheck. Too bad he doesn't have enough talent to be a good husband or father to more than one child.
acosta perez jose ramiro - Someone used "Bruised" somewhere, but I can't remember where.
Just4FunFiction - Don't rest just yet. There may be a bit more anger later. But yes, for now, I'll give my readers a break :D :D :D
Miyasa - Me alegro que te haya encantado. Y sí, esa fue otra de las MUCHAS inconsistencias que la película tuvo con la serie. Y faltan muchas más...
Inudaughter Returns - Well, Arnold was running on instinct at that point, but yeah, I seriously doubt that Bob would have allowed technology to leave him behind.
DeepVoice'06 - I think Gertie's teaching would have also included a bit of meditation and how to be a trained observer, you know, to watch out for anyone sneaking up on you to attack you :D :D :D As for Gerald and Phoebe, no doubt that they know they have feelings for each other, but they still need a bit of a nudge to get things started. Wow, part of an episode? Golly, thanks!
Prepare yourselves for MORE deconstruction now! And now, back to our story...
FIVE – RESEARCHING REAL LIFE
"You'll be okay walking home?" asked Arnold as they reached the stoop of Sunset Arms, and both placed a hand on each banister.
"Sure, Football Head, thanks for asking. And I'm glad you calmed down. This…aggressive you just isn't becoming of you."
He sighed, "No, it isn't. I'm sorry for this morning, it…it wasn't me, okay?"
She wanted to hug him, to throw her arms around him and plead forgiveness, to say all was forgiven and forgotten and then plant her lips on his— "Yeah, well, I didn't exactly help in not wearing out your patience, Arnold. You…you didn't need me making things worse for you. I'm…I'm…" Helga took a deep breath, stiffened, and forced her words out of her mouth, "I'm…ssssssssssorry, okay? I'll…I'll be more careful the next time I decide to annoy you," she chuckled, as did the boy. "I once heard a saying: 'Beware the rage of the patient man'. And well, we all experienced that saying first hand today. But seriously, Arnold. I'll…I'll try to tone things down with you. And maybe…maybe you'll share with us the rest of your dream, once you remember it all, okay?"
He breathed deeply, "Of course, Helga. I'll be sure to let you know all about it." The girl nodded and turned to leave, though she desperately wanted to kiss him good night, and she had taken a few steps away when he called out, "By the way, watch out for the ninth rung in the fire escape. It's coming loose, and it needs to be welded back to the frame."
Helga stiffened again.
He knows.
Doi! Of COURSE he knows! He still remembers what I said to him on that rooftop about me stalking him!
She didn't reply, and instead started running back to her house, or to the corner of the block, where she ducked out of sight.
Arnold smirked at the girl whom he knew had quite a bit of affection for him, and walked up to his door. He opened it and waited for the stray animals to rush out, including Abner—
Abner.
Abner?
"Hey, Shortman, you're home a bit late. Were you with your friends at the park?" asked his grandfather.
Arnold snapped out of his sudden trance, and replied, "Uh, no, Grandpa, I was just walking around with some friends."
Abner, meanwhile, had run back up the stoop, having noticed that his owner had not gone inside yet, and stood in front of the boy, expecting an ear or chin scratch.
Arnold looked at the midget pig, and looked at him, and looked at him, and looked at him…
Another rush of memories caused the boy to rush inside, ignoring his pet pig, almost shoving his grandfather aside.
"Arnold? What—?" Phil was quite shocked when his grandson suddenly appeared to get upset, to the point of ignoring his beloved pig as he ran to the dining room.
There, the blonde child sat and began to furiously write down the part of his dream that included Abner, and once again, with each line he jotted down, his anger and frustration crept back on him more and more.
Abner stowed away on a COMMERCIAL flight…a commercial INTERNATIONAL flight…of an AMERICAN airline…and he managed to sit in FIRST CLASS…he got captured with the rest of the class…he escaped the compound…walked through the jungle…found his way to the city…found his way to the airport…found a plane that was leaving for the U.S. JUST BEFORE IT TOOK OFF…and it happened to be the RIGHT plane headed in the RIGHT direction…found his way to Hillwood…found his way across town to Sunset Arms…and got help…all within 24 hours?
"Is that…could it…could it happen?" he asked himself.
Only one way to find out.
He stood and headed to his room.
As he walked through the hallway on the second floor, just as he passed the shelf that held one of the landline's extensions, Suzie Kokoshka blocked his path, obviously relieved to finally see him. "Oh, Arnold, you're finally here! I've been waiting for you to get home because I have a really, really big problem at work, and I know you can help me, the same way you've helped the other boarders before."
Arnold felt the familiar rage from this morning crawl up his arms and into his hands, which paled as he gripped the shelf that held the phone.
"You see, Arnold, my boss is getting REALLY annoying because there's this new hire that he seems to be venting his aggression on. Now, this new hire hasn't done anything wrong, and I don't know if my boss is just getting on her case in order to see if she can handle—"
"Suzie," he practically growled.
"Huh? Yes, Arnold?" the woman wondered why he interrupted her explanation; he had certainly never done that to her before.
The boy looked up with hooded eyes at the adult, took a deep breath, and used all of his self-control to avoid raising his voice, "Suzie, are…are you aware of what you're doing? You're asking ME for advice for a situation in your department store? Shouldn't…" Breathe. Breathe. "Shouldn't…you be asking an adult for advice of that kind? I mean…does it really make sense for you to ask a nine-year-old for advice on something so delicate?"
The orange-haired woman looked down at the child in front of her, speechless.
"Yeah, I thought so. Honestly, Suzie, please, I'm sure you can find a responsible adult who can give you much better advice than I ever could. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have research to do."
"Huh? What? Research?" she asked, suddenly snapping out of her shock. "What research, Arnold? Didn't your summer vacation start today?"
The boy ignored her questions, walked up to his room, and closed the door.
At the opposite end of the hallway, having witnessed the entire exchange, Phil and Gertie, holding hands, looked with worry at their grandson, and then at each other.
Up in his room, Arnold grabbed the phone next to his couch and set it on the desk. There, he opened a very thick book with yellow pages, and next to it he placed his open dream journal. Sitting down, he began his work:
"A…Airlines…Airlines…" He began calling the numbers listed.
"Hello, I would like to know if you have any flights to San Lorenzo…yes, the capital city…uh…" He looked up at his cork board on the wall in front of him. "…Puerto de Santa Clara…"
"…no direct flights, I understand. So what options are available…?"
"…O'Hare…then either LAX, Houston, Atlanta, or Miami…then Guatemala City…and change to a local airline for the San Lorenzo Airport…that's a lot of stops."
"…now, for the return flight, it would be the same…"
"…no direct flights to the U.S., it's either Guatemala City, Cancun, or Havana, and then the same stops in the U.S.…"
"…what are the take-off times you have available for this summer? Yes…okay…"
"…and for the return flights…oh, return flight from the San Lorenzo airport…"
"…it only has two outgoing flights per day? Okay…"
"…yes, thank you for the information. It has been…" he sighed, dismayed that he couldn't get angry with an airline worker who had no idea what he was going through. "It has been very helpful for me. Yes, have a good evening, too."
The boy looked up and saw that the sky had turned red, indicating just how long he had been on the phone. He looked down at his notes again, at all the numbers, times, and dates given by the operators, and said, "And now, here comes the REAL work."
He added up the flight times, layover times, and times between each take off from the same airport. He was sure to add the time it would take for the bus to take them to the actual airport, after all, O'Hare wasn't exactly around the corner.
And he added…
And he added…
And he added some more…
Finally, he sat back, staring at the multiple answers that all his research had added up to.
In the best case scenario, the whole trip, from the middle of the jungle to Sunset Arms, would take twelve hours with two stops, and the worst case scenario it would take thirty-six hours with four stops, and if Abner had been just five minutes late, he would have needed to wait NINETEEN HOURS for the next plane…then get off in the RIGHT stops, get off at O'Hare, take the RIGHT bus to Hillwood, find his way from the bus depot to Sunset Arms…and hope that my grandparents would know why he was there…
He slammed shut his notebook and stood, enraged once more.
While he knew his pet pig was fairly intelligent, even more than some dogs, there was no way he would have been able to make it back home so soon, not with all those variables on the way. And how would he have got past security? How could any security worker NOT see a pig trying to stow away on a plane?
"Arnold, dinner is ready! Are you going to come down?" asked his grandfather from behind his door.
The boy rubbed his face in defeat, sighed, and replied, not bothering to open his door. "No…no, Grandpa, I'm…I'm not hungry right now. I'll…I'll see you in the morning."
"Are you sure? Your grandma is making some good chow right now! And if you don't come down, Kokoshka is going to get all smug eating your dinner!"
"I'll see you in the morning, Grandpa. Good night," he trembled, again pushing down his desire to shout to the four winds.
"Okay, but you're missing out on plenty. Have a good night, Arnold…and please, sleep well." Phil's pleading seemed to calm down the boy somewhat, and taking a deep breath, he sat on his bed.
Defeated.
Suddenly feeling very tired, he decided to call it a day and get ready for bed. He pulled off his blue sweater—
The cameras.
The footage.
The material needed for Helga's video presentation…
Now suddenly feeling very paranoid, the blonde boy stood and began searching all over his room for any tell-tale round lens that would indicate that a camera was there; he even pulled out a flashlight to see if he could get a reflection off any lens. He flashed the light all over his desk, his shelves, his closet, and he even pulled open his couch to see if anything had been hidden in the space between the wall—
And he found nothing.
Disappointed, yet relieved, he flopped back on his bed.
Of course, all those cameras would be too expensive for Helga to afford, and it's not like she's getting a huge allowance now to even bother buying ONE…
…one…
…she only needed ONE…
Clutching his flashlight and scrambling to his feet, he dashed up his ladder to the skylight, opened the glass pane, and stepped out to the roof of Sunset Arms. The air hadn't cooled down that much that evening, though with the sun just approaching the western horizon, he still had enough light to look for anything suspicious around his skylight, especially the panes that faced his bed below.
And he found nothing.
Defeated once more, he leaned back on the glass and looked up at the stars as they slowly appeared on the darkening sky above him.
He wasn't sure how to feel at this point, after all, it would have been quite a shock for him to find a camera pointing down at his bed and know that Helga had footage of him dressing and undressing—plenty of times being totally naked—which would have been creepy on its own, but not finding anything just proved that Helga's video project presentation, and the party held in this very roof, filled with guests…
…guests…
…all those people he had helped this past year…
…Mister Hyunh's daughter, Dino Spumoni, Coach Wittenberg and his wife, his son Tucker…
…wait, whatever happened to Tucker? He never showed up in school after that day, not even for the synchronised swimming competition…
…where did he go after that? Is he getting home-schooled or something?
…hold it…RUTH MCDOUGAL WAS THERE, TOO?
He had just seen a glimpse of her among the crowd of friends and acquaintances, but yes, he knew that brace-filled smile anywhere.
Why was she there? Why would Helga bother inviting her, and…and…
Lockjaw? How did they ever find him and lift him to the roof?
He pushed away from his skylight and looked at his roof, completely devoid of people save for himself. Supposedly, one week after the last day of school, Helga managed to complete the video documentary of himself, and she also managed to get on this roof just about everyone he had helped this past year, and it was a wonderful party, very emotional for him, too…
…and totally in his head.
Again, too many variables, too many inconsistencies.
And why didn't he bother asking Tucker where he had been all this time, if he was right there in front of him?
The hole in his chest and the knot in his throat returned. No contest, no documentary, no prize, no trip…
…no finding his parents…
He rubbed his head again with both hands.
It had all been too good to be true.
"It was all too good to be true," he repeated himself out loud. "A perfect setup, a perfect outcome, the best ending I hoped for…and it was all a dream. I just hope it doesn't repeat itself tonight." With that, he walked back to the open pane, but before he climbed down, he called out toward the fire escape ladder. "Good night, Helga. I hope you have better dreams than I do," and he shut the pane.
Hiding just below the rampart, Helga was grabbing the ladder tightly, surprised once again that Arnold had known where she was. How much did he know of what she saw just now? Why didn't he call her out before? And what was he looking for all around his skylight?
The blonde girl climbed up on the roof, making sure she stayed away from the skylight and Arnold's field of vision, as the night sky wasn't dark enough yet to hide her from his eyes, unless he was sleeping sideways or face down.
She sat on the rampart and pulled out her cell phone, pressing a quick-dial button. Moments later, she spoke, "Hi, Phoebe? Thanks for your quick thinking this afternoon, I would have never thought of telling the others that the authorities were on their way and that everyone would get caught if they didn't leave right there. The last thing I need is competition from the other girls in class, much less the OLDER girls who saw what happened today…yes, yes, I know, I owe you BIG TIME, don't worry, I'll do what I can to make it up to you. And for once I'm glad you only have eyes for Tall Hair Boy right now…yes, I know you do, don't deny it, doi! Now, listen, speaking of Tall Hair Boy, I need you to call him right now. I'm still at Arnold's, and I didn't like what I saw just now, not one bit…look, just call Geraldo and tell him to meet you at Sunset Arms tomorrow morning…yes, Arnold is going to need a bit more of our help…no, I don't know how much more. Whatever he dreamed last night has come back with a vengeance, and it looks like we're going to be the ones who are going to have to help him, because no one else is doing so…yes…yes, thank you, Phoebe, I couldn't ask for a better friend than you…yes, good night, and see you here tomorrow morning. Bye."
Helga shut off her phone, tucked it away in her pink jumper, and climbed down the fire escape.
Just before her head ducked below the rampart, she looked at the now dark skylight, and whispered, "Good night, my sweet prince."
With that, the girl disappeared into the night as she headed back to her house.
Author's note: While most of the fandom has placed Hillwood in Washington State or even New York State, in "Veterans' Day", the car trip from Hillwood to Washington, D.C. took nineteen hours, placing Hillwood somewhat west of Chicago. Since Veterans' Day is a real holiday and Washington D.C. is a real place, I'm taking that episode as the official canon of Hillwood's location. But even if it was in Washington State and the plane left from Seattle or Portland, or in New York and the plane left from JFK, the flight to San Lorenzo would have still needed to have a minimum of two stops.