A/N: "His ego is just as big as his brow." –Panfla

XD I swear to you, a more perfect statement has never been spoken. This is so utterly and completely dedicated to you, Panfla! :D I just hope you realize that, in case it wasn't ridiculously obvious. XDDD Some parts here were inspired by stuff she told me when we were talking, and one scene at the end of ALL THIS (like at the end of the… pfft, 5th or 6th part? XDDD) was her idea all together to do, and I just couldn't help myself. xDD I'll point it out when it comes!

In order of who reviewed first, and so on and so forth:

~Beautiful People~

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Welcome to Zack-centric land, fools, where all your dreams may come true… but probably won't, 'cause screw you this is my fic. }:D

Zack: ):D

XDDD Okay, seriously, just, just read! *Slams door laughing*

Disclaimer: *Sings* I own it aaaaaall~! Except the characters that I dooooon't! Which sucks but I'll live with it anyway 'cause I have no chooooiiiiice! Oh, and the lovely Pamella belongs to Panfla, I just helped flesh her. :D xD Taro Johansen belongs to metalheadrailfan, and he has an awesome picture up on Deviant if you want to see him. :D The dude is awesome. XD And mention of super special Kori Johansen is purely because of xxP00h67chu, because she created her, and she also has some pictures up. XD Thanks for letting me fudge off of you guys! XD You're all geniuses! …Evil geniuses… *Pops eyeball out and places it on you*

OH, BTW—Popeye doesn't belong to me either… I put a reference in, LOL, it's pretty obvious if you look for it. If you catch it, tell me~! ;D *Toot toot*


Looking Up

Part 1


"Dad, can I ask you a question?"

Arnold blinked, hearing his eldest son's inquiry coming from the back seat of his car. He shifted his eyes momentarily off the road to the mirror so he could look at his son with a small, reassuring smile. "Of course, Zack. You can ask me anything, anytime."

The nine-year-old Zack grinned back at him in the mirror, a small hint of nervousness in his gaze that Arnold didn't quite catch. "Well…" his bright blue eyes shifted away a moment, suddenly coated with frustration, "why does my last name have to be Shortman?"

Arnold blinked his eyes wide at the odd question. "Um…" he began unsurely, focusing his perplexed eyes back on the road. "Well, because that's my last name, so… That just makes you a Shortman too, since you're my son. That's just… how it works." He shifted his eyes back to his son's in the mirror, asking with a tint of concern in his voice, "Why? Is something wrong with the name?"

"Is something wrong with the—Of course there's something wrong with it!" Zack exploded from his seat suddenly, staring at his dad with crazed, skeptical eyes. "What kind of a question is that?"

Arnold blinked a couple times at his son's strange behavior, raising an eyebrow. He tried to be patient as he asked calmly, "What do you mean, Zack?"

Zack let out an exasperated sigh and slapped a hand to his forehead. "Mom was right… You are dense."

Arnold blinked a few times at that in rapid succession, shocked that his wife would mention an insult like that to their son. A moment later he humphed, and his freshly stoic eyes focused back on the gleaming road before them, the rain drizzling down in gentle patterns on the windshield. "Yes, Zachary, I'm dense as a brick. Now that we've got that covered—enlighten me. Why is the name Shortman so terrible?" his voice came flatly, yet still he tried to be as civil as possible with his son despite how he tended to test his patience.

With one final sigh, Zack rolled his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest, and replied quietly with a touch of bitterness, a reluctance there that caused him to space out his wording, "Well… some of the kids… joke around with me sometimes for being… short."

Arnold blinked, twisting his face in bewilderment. "But you're not short. You're right at the average height for a boy your age."

Zack harrumphed, his tone hardening as he elaborated, "Yes, I know, Arnold. But while I may not technically be short, I am a Shortman…" He raised one side of his eyebrow sharply. "Get the picture?" He sighed then, his eyes snapping out the window to forlornly watch the raindrops race against the glass. "They're always calling me Short Man…" he grumbled.

Arnold didn't respond for a few moments, simply stared at the road with what seemed like an almost somber expression, before he burst into laughter. "Oh, Zack…" He struggled to get his chuckling under control, vainly attempting to cover up the slip with a few coughs. "That's ridiculous."

"Oh, come on. Surely you were mocked when you were my age. I've seen pictures of you, Dad…" his wide eyes suddenly cut themselves in half, and he leaned forward slightly in his seat, his voice lowering, "…and you really were short…"

Despite himself, Arnold's entire face flushed, contradictory to how his grin grew. "No, actually. I was never really made fun of."

"Really?" Zack asked in his disbelieving, low tone, one side of his eyebrow still extended up, his arms still crossed, and his eyes still reluctant to come out of their slits. Some suspicion crept into his tone as he added, "Are you sure about that one, Pops?"

Arnold laughed a little guiltily under his son's searching gaze, and he admitted, "Okay, so maybe I was made fun of a little… or a lot. But it was only from one person."

"Who?" Zack asked curiously, his eyes returning to normal now, being able to tell that his father was telling the truth this time.

Arnold didn't answer for a few moments, before his mouth quirked a little to one side, and he chuckled a little at the irony. "Your mother."

Zack blinked at that, his eyes actually widening a bit, before he suddenly burst into laughter. He didn't bother to cover up his amusement like his father, though, and nearly fell over on the car seat. "That's awesome!"

Arnold just rolled his eyes in amusement, before his eyes focused themselves back on the road ahead of them. "Yeah, yeah. Helga loved teasing me about that one when she finally found out."

Zack's laughter instantly ceased at hearing this, and he raised one side of his brow once more, that slitted look starting to return to his face. It made Arnold look away from the mirror, opting to keep his eyes focused on the road completely, even though their car was the only one on the road. Zack leaned forward in his seat to look at his dad again, and Arnold sighed as his son asked the inevitable question, "What do you mean finally found out?"

Arnold sighed and looked away, deciding to just get it over with. "Well, I'm not sure why, but for the first nine years of my life, no one knew what my last name was."

Zack's eyes widened and his jaw dropped a little. "No one?"

Arnold shook his head, shrugging his shoulders up. "It wasn't like it was a secret or anything. My grandpa was always calling me it as a kind of joke because, yeah, I was short." He rolled his eyes a little, smiling. "But for some reason, no one ever registered it I guess."

Zack looked amused suddenly. "Not even Mom?"

Arnold chuckled, shaking his head as an affirmative no.

Zack sat back in his seat, an amused look on his face and his arms crossed over his chest again. "Wow, and here all these years she's been giving you a hard time for being dense."

Arnold's expression stilled at that. After a few more moments of tenseness, he burst into boisterous laughter, gripping his steering wheel harder just to keep himself from not just falling straight away sideways and into the rest of the seat. It was the most hilarious idea he'd ever heard. Leave it to her son to figure that one out. "Oh, Zack!" He was laughing so hard now that he was practically vibrating in his seat, and he put a hand over his mouth to try to gain back at least a bit of his composure.

Zack couldn't help the smug smile that spread across his face, pride rushing through him.

Finally after several more seconds, Arnold managed to force down his amusement well enough and wipe some tears from his eyes. "Helga… the Horrible Hypocrite." He chortled. "Wow, I'd never thought of that before, but it's true! That was dense of her." Some of his more characteristic understanding and sense came back to him then, and he shook his head a little. "But then again, nobody else ever got the connection either, so maybe it isn't exactly fair to pin all this on Helga. If no one got that was why my grandpa called me that, then maybe it wasn't as obvious as it always seemed to me—"

"Dad, you're not seriously going to rank Mom's intelligence down with those monkeys you used to call classmates are you?"

Arnold's expression became firm and fatherly in an instant and he slowed the car down a little so he could glance back at his son with a look. A warning. "Zack, that's not nice…"

Zack smirked slightly, the smallest upturn of his lips, but a whisper of what it once would be. "I never claimed to be nice, Father… And stop looking at me like that. You can't intimidate me. You're not scary in the least." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Trust me, I know scary."

A slightly angry rush of air flew from his father's nostrils, and he turned back around, continuing to drive. "Perhaps not, but as your dad, I do have the ability to ground you."

Zack rolled his eyes, his gangly, boyish form sliding down in the seat. "Like I have anywhere to go."

"Video games…"

"Never play them."

"Cell phone…"

"If I don't have anywhere to go, then I'm pretty sure it's safe to assume that I also have no one to call, Dad."

"Computer."

"Have you ever seen me even try to use that thing once?"

Arnold huffed, thoroughly frustrated now as he braced his shoulders. "Well, then what do you do all day if you have nowhere to go, no one to call, and nothing to do?"

Zack shrugged slightly, a mere roll up and down of his shoulders that was barely there. His eyes focused disinterestedly on a speck of dirt on the floor, keeping a close eye on it. "Mostly read…" His eyes darkened, his arms crossed tighter. "It's not like I have anything better to do anyway."

Arnold's eyes widened, his annoyances vanishing in an instant. He twisted his head around to look at him, concern creasing every wrinkle on his face. "Zack, did something happen?"

Zack snapped a look at him, a bit startled at the question, before he glanced away and shrugged with careless shoulders. "No, nothing at all. School's been fine."

Arnold hummed at that in feigned understanding and turned back around in his seat, his knuckles turning paler against the steering wheel. He hadn't specifically asked about how school was, he knew his son was hiding something. He didn't press it, though. Zack would come to him when he was ready. Of that he was sure. For now, Arnold just continued to drive, knowing a talk with his wife was in order about this whole 'monkey classmates' situation.

But despite the assurances Arnold pressed into his mind, Zack never spoke a word of it again.


"Zachary!"

Zack's head snapped up from his desk, gasping for air. "I'm awake! I'm awake!"

The gray-haired high school teacher tapped her foot at him, her green eyes narrowed slightly. "Zachary Shortman, sleeping in class again?"

Zack grinned blearily up at the teacher, his arm reaching up to wipe the bit of drool that had formed at the corner of his lip. "Not sleeping, I just passed out. The lesson was so informative and interesting, I guess I just got overwhelmed."

Ms. Idleberry sighed down at him, disappointment written clear across her aged face. She tapped him on the chin with her pointer, leaning her head down to him. "Pay attention, if you please." She pulled out a crumpled piece of notebook paper from the stack in her hand and placed it down on his desk as she whispered, careful to make sure only he could hear her words, "If you weren't my best student I'd be much more concerned." She winked, a mere blink of her eye that lasted barely a second before she stood back up and went on down the line of desks to hand out the rest of the papers.

Zack's shoulders were stiff as he stared down at the piece of paper lying in glaring white and blue on his desk, the crisp, jagged edges almost screaming to make his hands bleed. He swallowed throatily, before he reached as casually as possible to look under the paper, making sure he picked it up in a way that no one else could see, and was almost disappointed to see the A+ written so cheerily at the top in red ink. His breath left him in a silent rush before he folded it up as tiny as it could go and stuffed it into his plaid shirt. His shoulders shook a moment before his head slammed down onto the desk, startling everyone around him.

"Crap…" he mouthed into the desk, closing his eyes in defeat.

"Bad grade I take it?"

His head snapped up. Blinking slowly, he turned his head incredulously to see who was talking to him.

It was a girl. Her hair was twisted up into a thick ponytail with messy tendrils hanging in front of her face, but a few of which hung casually over eyes of bright green that were gazing at him in a way he thought to be rather disinterested. A small white stick stuck out of her mouth and twitched erratically, the end of a lollypop, he realized. Or probably would have realized had his eyes not been glued to the glinting red of her dark hair.

After only a few seconds more, he whipped around in his seat and crossed his arms. "None of your business, Ginger."

There was something of a strangled gasp behind him, like something out of a horror movie, before his head was suddenly yanked back by his hair and he was forced to stare upside down at her offended expression. "Got a problem with redheads, Monobrow?"

Air hissed out between his teeth as he managed to wretch his head out of her hands, and he rubbed the spot angrily as he turned around to glare at her. "The hell?"

"Zack!" the teacher snapped from across the room, sending him a sharp look. "We don't use words like that in here!"

Zack bit back a growl, forcing his hand away from the sore spot on his head. "Sorry, ma'am, I just got…" he sneered slightly, "surprised."

"Well save the horseplay for afterwards. We've still got twenty minutes worth of class to get through." She turned back around then and continued handing out papers, almost at the end of the line by this point.

Zack sighed quietly, easily slapping away the fury that had been flaring in him a moment ago. As discreetly as possible, he closed his eyes and tilted his head ever so slightly to the right to whisper back, "Look, we shouldn't be talking in class." He opened his blue eyes then, something occurring to him that made him slightly annoyed again. "Who are you anyway? I don't even know you."

The girl rolled her eyes at the question. "As if I'd tell you after—"

"Pamella! What have I told you about eating candy in class?"

The girl cringed for only a moment, before she plucked the apple pop from her mouth and grinned sheepishly at the teacher. "Sorry."

As Ms. Idleberry rolled her eyes and went back to handing out papers, the girl, now known as Pamella, turned back around to see Zack giving her a broad, knowing smirk with his eyes smugly lidded halfway. The irritating sight immediately had her cutting her eyes, and she reached forward to stick her lollypop to his cheek.

He made a horrified face and, with a sharp flick of his wrist, swiped the candy from his cheek and onto the floor. It clacked and clattered against the ground while Zack was busy wiping his cheek aggressively with the sleeve of his plaid shirt. He looked at her in pure disgust, appalled. "I can't believe you did that."

Pamella just smirked. "Shouldn't have been so smug," she whispered, tilting her chin up slightly. She leaned forward on her forearms then, her eyes wide. "Now about that grade—"

Zack rolled his eyes full circle in disbelief and turned back around for a final time, intent on ignoring her until she disappeared to someplace far away from him. He'd make note to never sit anywhere near her again.

"All righty, class," Ms. Idleberry said as she made it to the front of the room again, her hands now clear of papers, "now that that's sorted, let's get on with the lesson."


The bell was screaming for everyone to get out, and Zack was out of his seat and out the door before anyone else could blink.

"Zack, wait!" Ms. Idleberry yelled after him, frustrated with his quick departure, "I wanted to talk to you about possibly entering in the—"

"The answer's no!" he yelled back in a rush of panic, his long legs running ever faster, desperate to get as far away from that class as possible. As far as he knew or wanted to know, she didn't respond.

As teenagers began filing out of their respective classrooms, Zack raced past in a blur of blue, black and yellow. He knocked into teens and bumped into giggling girls that screamed when he passed, but he paid them no more mind than a quick, "Sorry!" and "I was never here!"

As the lockers zipped past him, he nearly crashed into his girlfriend as she suddenly came into startling clarity in his sights. She screeched as she saw him running at her, and her hands flew up to cover her face as she cowered in her spot. Zack's legs stuttered and stumbled to a stop just before he crushed her, and his elbow flew up to balance himself against the lockers beside them. He grinned through panting lips, trying to be smooth despite the fact his hair was a wind-blown wreck. "Sophie… Almost didn't see you there."

The black haired beauty blinked her crystal eyes at him through her arms a second, before she let them drop away and laughed. "Zack, you scared the daylights out of me."

"Now I'm sure there are still plenty of daylights in you, Sophe," he flirted with a teasing grin.

She just giggled at him, slapping him lightly on the arm. "Stop. You really did scare me. Why were you running so fast?"

Zack puffed out a long-suffering breath from his mouth, his eyes going out of focus. "Ms. Idleberry tried to talk to me again is all. It's no big deal." He leaned in closer to her then, his eyelids falling. "But what is a big deal is you. I hope you know you never have to be afraid of me."

Sophie blushed, her eyes darting down in a shy fashion. "If you don't want me to be scared, you shouldn't do scary things." She flicked her light blue eyes up to his deeper ones, smiling a tiny smile. "But I guess I'm out of luck, huh?"

Zack burst out into a deep laugh, before a toothy grin broke out across his face. "'Fraid so, babe." His eyes flew down to his watch then, and he hummed before sweeping forward to peck her on the cheek. "Gotta go, Jaron's waiting for me by the water fountain."

"Okay." Her smile turned a tad disappointed, before she smiled at him more sincerely and sidled up to give him a small, innocent nuzzle. "I've gotta go too anyway. My Humanitarian class is starting soon."

Zack frowned slightly, a hand coming up to hold her around her back. Every day she skipped lunch to go to that class, the extra class she suggested and started. The fact of the matter was that his girlfriend was intent on saving the world, and it stole her away from him more than he'd like. What with the concerts, benefits, and charity events of all kinds, he only ever saw her during school, and the rest of the time was mostly spent texting and staring at his phone with wide, bloodshot blue eyes. Angels were hard girlfriends to maintain, and Zack felt a little piece of his heart crack.

"Okay," he murmured, trying to smile a tad more devilishly despite how soft he felt, "I'll see you around then, I guess."

"Tomorrow, right here." She beamed her sweet face at him, and stood up on her toes to give him a small kiss on the mouth. Pulling back after a moment, she smiled the most loving smile she could before wandering off into the crowd, her skirts and black hair swaying.

Zack stared after her, his eyes wide in awe. "Bye…" As soon as she was out of sight, he allowed his shoulders to slump and his expression to fall. "Bye."

"Wow, how the hell did you manage to snag that?"

His breath rushed back to him in a sharp inhale, before he snapped around to see the girl from before looking at him incredulously, another lollypop sticking out of her mouth.

He blinked a few times, unwilling to accept that she was here. "What?"

She rolled her eyes at him, pulling the lollypop—red now—out of her mouth to give him a snarky look. "I said, how in the flaming pits of the underworld did you manage to snag a chick like that? No offense, but have you seen you?"

Zack did a double take at her, blinking his eyes in shock, before his face darkened. He snapped around and walked stiffly down the hall, already starting to sort his brain in order to forget that she ever made a comment like that.

"Whoa, wait up!" her hideous voice called, and he heard her footsteps pounding into the floor grow louder until she slammed into him suddenly. Shocked, he spun around and pushed her off of him, before proceeding to dust himself off.

"Can I help you, Ms. Pamella?" he asked testily, his brow narrowed at her as his hand swept down his plaid-clad arm.

She scrunched her face up. "Ugh, please, my name is Pam."

"Okay, sure. Whatever you say, Pam Am."

"Hey, I hated that show—"

Zack grunted, "Me too." He turned around swiftly then and tried to walk away once more.

She wasn't having it, though, and she jumped in front of him to block his way, scowling. "Hey, what's with the attitude?"

"Ohhhh," he pretended to think, his eyes wandering away and a hand coming to his chin, "what's with the attitude, what's with the attitude… Oh, well, could it have something to do with how you won't leave me the hell alone?" As he'd said this last sentence he'd heaved himself up to tower over her, his arms tensing and shoulders raising dramatically. His left eye twitched ever so slightly.

She stared up at him in surprise, her mouth falling open. "Geez, freaking sasquatch, get your head out of the ceiling, would ya? I just wanted to talk."

Zack tensed up even more for a second, before he suddenly deflated with a long sigh and looked at her through defeated eyes. "What?"

She grinned. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. It's just about that grade you got, I wanted to know—"

Zack's eyes bolted open and he immediately swept his arm across to make her stumble out of the way, before he marched past her through the hall, hurriedly losing her in the crowd, ducking and swerving around the slobbery, guffawing teenagers. Before long he felt safe enough to sneak out of the uncomfortable crowd and he sighed with relief. "Thank the mother—"

"Zack!" Jaron shouted to him, waving erratically.

Zack jumped at the loud shout less than two feet from him, startled. "Jaron, I'm right here. Seriously, you don't have to shout." He looked around himself nervously.

Jaron blinked his dark eyes at him, pushing some of his poofing jheri curls out of his face and back up into his semi-fro as he grinned too big at his best friend. "Sorry, dude, I've been waiting for over ten minutes now. You're late, man! Where ya been?"

Zack's blue eyes flew up to the ceiling in a cringe. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you—let's just get to lunch already, okay?"

Jaron shrugged. "Whatever works, Zack, but I'm still curious." He shot him a look through glassy eyes, the warmth in them glossed over by a thin layer of contacts that screamed comfort on the box yet had him constantly rubbing his eyes. The fact of the matter was, Jaron was a nerd—he was smart beyond his years and made exceptional grades, but he didn't want to be that geeky person that wore clunky glasses and sweater vests. Which was one of the reasons he'd started hanging out with Zack in the first place—people seemed to like Zack, Zack was popular, so if he hung out with him, maybe he could be cool too. Of course, that had been years ago and his friendship was sincere now, but he was still concerned with popularity and coolness and was willing to do most anything to achieve it. It would have worried Zack, had he not been in a similar dilemma all his life.

Zack tried to smile, tried to remember Sophie's soft touch and gentle words as they walked into the cafeteria. "I'll tell you later. Right now, I just want to stuff my face and forget."

Jaron threw his fist in the air, bowing his head low. "Amen, brother."

Zack grinned brightly, gaining back some of his usual stamina as he slapped an arm around his best friend. "Who needs therapy?" he laughed.

"Certainly not us." Jaron grinned crazily, before his head snapped away to the direction of the lunch line, which was nonexistent. A strangled gasp suddenly broke from Jaron's lips, and he scuttled out of Zack's arm to race to the front. "Holy butterbeans! No waiting!"

Zack's jaw dropped, before he managed to wake up enough from his food-induced haze to race after him as far as his legs could go, only tripping once to his credit. "Wait up!"

"Dude," Jaron's voice ground in straight-faced incredulity as his friend caught up with him, grabbing up a tray from the short stack and placing it down on the counter with a slam, "I said no waiting! Don't you tell me to wait! I've waited long enough for you!"

"But darling," Zack bubbled up in jest, putting a hand to his chest in hurt, "I thought you told me you'd wait forever?"

Jaron rolled his eyes and grabbed up a tray to shove into Zack's hand to shut him up. "Forever was cut short, honey. You've been replaced." His eyes fell rapturously upon the tacos that lay before them in the glass, already beginning to drool. "By a saucy little Mexican lady."

"Well, I'm insulted." Zack sniffed and stood self-righteously, his tray held in one hand as he rested his hands on his waist. "You're replacing a blond-haired, blue-eyed babe like me for this? She doesn't even have lettuce."

Jaron grinned crookedly at him, and pulled his lunch bag from one shoulder to the other for him to see, patting it. "Well, lettuce correct that, shall we?"

Zack's eyes widened at the sight of the bag and he grinned, immediately grabbing it up just for the sake of holding it, making sure it was real. "Ahh, your mom packed your lunch again?"

Jaron plucked up a taco and put it on his tray as he rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Like I'd really miss taco day for one of her whole grain, veggie-filled messes she considers food."

"You think there's any sushi this time?" Zack asked, almost tempted to shake the bag to see if he could hear what was in it.

Jaron scrunched up his nose, reaching over to grab some milk. "Let's hope not. She's still perfecting her technique and it's been chaos. There's been knives flying and all sorts of screaming. I don't even want to know what's been going on in that kitchen, but Dad looked pretty terrorized at dinner a few nights ago."

Zack cackled at the news, letting go of the bag in favor of holding his stomach as laughter racketed his body. "Oh, criminy, seriously? That is beautiful. Sometimes I think your family's crazier than mine—"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Jaron laughed, paying for his food to the less than amused lunch lady. "Now hurry up, I want to get to work on wooing my new lady."

Zack grumbled, grabbing a taco and some chocolate milk quick along with some tapioca pudding and throwing it onto his tray with purposeful aggression. "She's had work done!" he yelled in mock-jealousy as Jaron skipped off to their table, before turning back to the lunch lady with a booming grin. "He'll be crawling back to me before the day is up."

The lunch lady blinked listlessly at him, her face sagging. "That'll be $3.46."


A pair of hands slammed down on the table, red sleeves exploding down her arms.

Zack and Jaron jumped in their seats and their eyes darted up from their lunches to see a pale-faced redhead who looked thoroughly irritated by this point, what with her teeth gritted and right eye twitching.

A squeak burst from Zack's throat before he could help it and he flew down under the table.

"Like hell," she hissed, ducking under to grab him by one of his legs and drag him out. "I have been looking all over for you for the past hour, and here all this time you've been eating? You've got some serious nerve!"

Zack kicked his leg out of her hands, and shot backwards from her in horror, only to bang the back of his head against the table. An anguished moan ripped from his throat as he ducked his head down, his hands trying to massage away the pain. After a moment or two, he snapped his head up and glared at her. "For the love of—It's lunch time! What else would I be doing?"

"Something… Something… I don't know!" She threw her hands up, just wanting to get her anger out. "Something less obvious! How cliché can you be?"

Jaron gulped his food down, and took a quick swig of his milk before he pushed his tray away and put a hand up in a stopping gesture. "Okay, seriously. What loop am I out of this time? I haven't seen you around before." He looked the random girl up and down, from her red hoodie to the nearly black, gray fibers of her rolled up jeans, and finally to her plain white sneakers. She didn't look like someone that would try to bash someone's head in.

"Name's Pam, and I asked Zack here a question," she waved him off easily, her eyes still cut at Zack, "that he won't answer!"

Zack flew up from the ground and glared at her, simply. "I did answer. I told you it was none of your business."

Pam blinked slowly, as if she had to process these words, before she suddenly grinned at him and leaned forward into his face. "That's not an answer, that's a denial at an answer, which I reject. It was a valid question—what's the big deal? Just tell me."

Zack stared down at her a second, before taking a purposeful step back, his behind bumping into the table. He pursed his lips hard and ducked his head down so his messy hair hung in front of his face. His left arm trembled slightly.

Jaron looked thoroughly enthused in the scene, and he leaned around Zack's slumped form to look at Pam. "What grade?"

That broke him. Zack snapped around to slam his fists down on the table, making their food fly up for a second before clattering back onto the table. Jaron flew back from the table, nearly falling over in his chair. Zack yelled, "No grade! There was no grade! There is nothing to answer because I didn't get a grade!" He snapped back around then and took bounding steps towards Pam, causing her to practically run backwards to keep from him plowing her over. He stopped then and pointed a finger in her face, his expression firm. "Do you hear me? This entire thing didn't ever happen! You're going to wake up soon, and when you do, none of this will have ever happened! Get the picture?"

Pam looked up at him in shock, her hand clutching onto something. He realized half a second later that it was the red lollypop from before. His face soured at seeing it. Pam suddenly spoke up then, the beginning's of a smile pulling at her mouth, "You're a terrible liar."

Zack's entire face went utterly blank.

Jaron bursting into laughter behind him woke him up and air flew in through his nose as his chest puffed out slightly. "A terrible—I'm the best liar this school has ever seen! I'm incredible at making up stories, detailed and precise and thoroughly backed up with fake information! I don't even have to think about it! I've fooled my own mother!" He put his hands on his hips then and leaned down to look furiously at her. "And believe me, if you knew my mom, you'd be bowing at my feet right now for accomplishing a feat like that."

Pam laughed, looking overjoyed at his irritation. "Yes, you would be good at making up stories wouldn't you?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" he screeched in an enraged whisper, leaning over her even further.

Pam huffed at him towering over her like that again, and she flew up on her tiptoes to point her lollypop at him, her eyes narrowing. He had to pull back from her when she put the lollypop near his face, annoyed. "Hey now, I'm warning you, Brow—don't mess with me!"

Zack's eyes widened and his lungs cleared.

Hey there, Brow, how's my little shortie today? Have you had a nice day so far? I haven't.

"Zack? Hey, Zack, are you okay? Come on, don't zone out on us now. Zack!"

He shook himself and his eyes came back into focus, seeing Jaron standing in front of him with a concerned look on his face. He blinked a couple times, a hand coming up to his head. "I'm sorry… Did I miss anything?"

A dark-haired girl suddenly popped out from behind Jaron, smiling the same irritating grin from before. "Nothing we can't make up for."

Zack's face darkened. "You're so lucky I'm not violent."

The bell wailed.

In a flash Zack was grabbing up their trays from the table and throwing Jaron's lunch bag over his head. It seemed like mere seconds had passed when Zack grabbed Jaron's arm and was physically dragging him out the door. Jaron stumbled as Zack flew blindly out of the room, leaving Pam gaping with lollypop in hand.

They didn't cross paths for the rest of the day, something Zack was infinitely grateful for.


Phil yelped when Zack came barreling into the cramped space of the car, pushing him straight into Ham, who had his entire side pushed up against the window. Zack adjusted his legs so they could fit more comfortably and stuck his tongue out in concentration. He closed the door with a slam behind him, throwing his backpack into the front seat.

"Ya comfortable yet, Zacko?" Helga asked from the front seat, twisting around slightly to look at him.

Zack grinned at her. "Never been more."

"Well I'm not!" Phil whined, trying to push himself away from Ham, only to practically fall into Zack's lap.

Helga scoffed and turned back around to put the car into ignition, her hands flying to turn the wheel around so they could get the hell out of here. "Tough! If you hadn't gotten yourself suspended from P.S. 118 we wouldn't have had to put you in P.S. 119 in the first place! You could have been riding home with plenty of space to spare with Amanda and Arnold!"

Phil suddenly bolted up straight in his seat and looked at her dryly through the mirror, pointing his thumbs at his brothers on either side of himself. "Oh, in that case, I'll happily ride home with these meat heads. Anything to get away from Amanda."

"Awww," Zack gushed, pulling him into an awkward side hug, "he does love us!"

Phil screeched, his arms flailing. "Get your filthy hands off of me!"

He accidentally whacked Ham in the head and his shoulders tensed up for a mere second before he snapped, "Hey now, Wrestlemania isn't supposed to start until eight! Cool it!"

"Barbarians," Phil ground out, finally managing to wrench Zack's arms from around his neck, "all of you!"

"All right, all right, guys," Helga's commanding voice boomed, and her head snapped around to send them a fiery look that set them immediately on edge, "if I hear another peep for the next five minutes, I don't care how old you are, I will spank you! It's getting dark thanks to those damned rain clouds, who knows when it will start raining, and I need to focus on driving! So clam up!"

Everyone's faces suddenly went ash white and Zack flew forward to grab her head and force it back around to the road. "Mom, we're not in England!"

Helga screamed as she saw the semi-truck coming straight at them, and her white hands jerked the steering wheel out of the way just as it's monster horn blared at them. The car swerved left from right for a few seconds before it started going straight again, the semi-truck's horn still blaring as it passed them.

The car was deadly silent for a long time, everyone frozen in their spots and their faces drained of color. After a few tentative finger movements, Helga said threateningly, not turning around, "Not a word…"

They all nodded their heads vigorously, their lips shut tight.


"GAH, would you get your fat foot out of my face?"

"Get your fat face out of my foot—"

"Your face is fat!"

"Both of your faces are fat!"

"Criminy, Ham, you have no room to talk! Your face is huge!"

"And yet you still have a bigger mouth than me. I'm missing the silence already."

"Me too!"

"I'm not! This is fun!"

"Hey, hey, hey, shut your pie holes!" Helga yelled, turning the car off so she was free to turn around and glare at them all.

All eyes snapped to her, and Zack yelped as he suddenly fell out of the car where he'd had the door open. He fell backwards into the concrete of the driveway, dizzy with his legs still hanging in the car seat.

The sound of Phil and Ham bursting into laughter entered his ears, but he was too busy noticing how puffy the clouds looked and wondering how there could be stars out when it was only around 3:30. He blinked and his head fell down fully to the ground, his eyes going straight up from his position to see a moving truck across the way. "Huh," he mumbled absentmindedly.

A black sneaker suddenly pounded down beside his head, making him tense. Phil grinned evilly down at him, his feet on either side of his head and his hands on his hips. "You know, you are completely at my mercy right now, Zack? I could do whatever I wanted. I could get you back for a lifetime's worth of horrible jokes and bad puns. The question is…" he put a hand to his chin, eyes wandering away in mock, "what to do? Should I go with plan A or just head straight for plan H? An opportunity like this may not come up again."

Zack looked up at him with disinterest for a second before a sinful grin split his face and he kicked his feet up, knocking Phil in the back and making him fly forward straight into the grass. Phil made a loud "Oof!" as his face skidded across the green, before his muscles gave out and he made a small pathetic moan into the dirt.

Zack stood up, dusting himself with his grin still in place. "Foolish, Philly. Just foolish."

Ham, having observed this scene, just sighed and unbuckled his seat belt to get out of the car.

"Zack," Helga addressed him, before throwing his blue backpack at him. She reached in across the seat then to pull out the last two bags and threw one to Ham standing at the other side of the car, before looking over at Phil still laying in the grass with a raised eyebrow. She couldn't help the small smirk that crossed her face as she walked over to stand over him, the backpack hanging from one hand while her other hand rested on her hip. "You okay down there, kiddo?"

He just grunted.

Her smirk only widened as she threw the bag down less than an inch from his head, making him jerk. "I'm gonna have to take that as a yes. Arnold should be home in about half an hour, so we're running on a tight schedule."

"Tight schedule for what?" Ham asked, walking up to stand beside an equally curious Zack as he adjusted his backpack over his shoulder.

"It's Taro's birthday," Helga informed them in slight surprise, raising an eyebrow at them. "You didn't know? I'd have thought Jaron would have told you."

Zack snorted before the last word could even leave her mouth, a smirk spreading across his face in amusement. "Jaron hates Taro. I'm not surprised."

"Mom, I don't have a present for him," Ham said in concern, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Oh, who cares?" Phil moaned, rolling over onto his back so his empty eyes could gaze up at the darkening sky. "Life is meaningless anyway. Material gifts are a waste of time, we all just die and leave it all behind. We might as well just give him the dirt beneath our feet… and up my nose." He scowled.

"Ohhh," Zack rolled his eyes, and strode over to grab him up by his arm and dust him off. "Don't be such a little drama queen. I could have just kneed you in the ass, you know—I was merciful."

Phil spluttered, slapping his hands away from him. "Jerk!"

"Children," Helga groaned loudly before Zack could say anything to send Phil on a rant, rubbing her temples, "I have an aching headache, you can't do this right now. I want to enjoy today, please. Just try to behave for one day. This is for Gerald and Phoebe, we can't screw this up." She grabbed Zack and Ham by their arms then and proceeded to drag them to the front door. "Phil, don't think just because I don't have three arms means you're left out of this! Get inside!"

"But, Mom, gifts—" Ham tried again.

"Arnold and I already got him a gift, we'll just say it's from all of us. The kid's going off to college anyway, he doesn't have room for a bunch of crap." She let go of them so she could sort through her keys, trying to find the right one. Her key ring was filled to the brim with all sorts of keys of different shapes and sizes, thanks to her many odd jobs around Big Bob's Beeper Emporium and various other random things she'd done over the years. She always promised herself she'd get them all sorted out but between work and writing and raising four kids, she just never found the time. Her searching became a bit more aggressive as her patience trickled out, as it always did.

"What did you get him?" Ham was unwise enough to ask, clearly not thinking. Both Zack and Phil grimaced.

Helga exploded around, her hands flying up along with the keys, which clunked Phil in the head. "I don't know! A calculator or a basketball or something! Arnold picked it out, I was just there! How the hell should I know what the fu—"

"Um, Helga, honey," a scratchy male voice called from behind the kids. Arnold's football shaped head popped around Ham then, his grin spread nervously across his face. "I would advise you to stray away from certain words." Amanda peeked her head out from behind Arnold's leg, being able to tell when her mother was on a rampage.

"Arnold," she stuttered, her fury immediately dissipating at the sight of her two angels, "I didn't even see you pull up. We just got back…"

"Oh, yeah," Arnold laughed, stepping around his sons to give her a small hug. "I let class out a bit early today. It was kind of impulsive, but I know how stressed out birthdays make you." He let go of her and reached down to pick the keys up from the ground, and expertly found the house key in two seconds. He handed it to her with a smile. "Let's get ready."

Helga stared at him a second, before a breath left her unbidden and she took the key from him, her shoulders relaxing. "You are a lifesaver."

"I know." He grinned, his teeth in sparkling view and looking ready to kiss her.

"Okay, okay already," Phil burst suddenly, the hand that had been rubbing his head reaching up and snapping the key out of his mother's hand. He pushed past her to unlock the door and shoved it open, throwing the keys carelessly into the bowl on the small, wooden table by the door before marching towards the stairs.

"Phil," Arnold said with surprise, walking into the house, "where are you going? We're going to be heading back out very soon."

"I know," Phil said sourly, already on his way up the stairs and peeking his head over the railing to look at him distinct unamusement, "but I need to brush my teeth. I can just feel the cavities coming in thanks to you."

Before Arnold could reply, Zack practically flew into the house and fell to his knees on the long green rug, breathing deeply in. "Home, I'm going to miss you for the next several hours. I barely knew thee." He dug his hands into the rug, sighing despairingly. "Parting is such, such sweet sorrow. I don't know how I'll survive without your soft, plush chairs and your…" he ran the back of his hand down the wall with longing eyes, "sickly yellow wallpaper… We really do need to redecorate."

"Several hours—" Helga nearly raged at the idea, her mouth falling into a massive black hole for flies.

Arnold grabbed her around her shoulders before she could, though, and gave Zack a flat look at his over-display. "Zack, we'll only be there a few hours." He smiled then, his eyelids falling. "We'll be in and out and back home before any of us know it. Maybe we'll even get some dinner there, that way when we get home we can all just relax." He rubbed Helga's tense shoulders a little as he said these words soothingly, trying to keep her zen.

Helga sighed out a huff of breath, putting a hand on his over her shoulder in thanks.

Zack spoke as he stood up from the floor and turned back towards them, his lips smirking upwards, "Maybe so, but the ache I'm going to have in my back for the next few days won't be worth any amount of raw fish and transparently wrapped vegetables. I'm just thankful Gerald managed to swing getting a normal couch in the living room—I plan on chilling in there, so don't be surprised if you don't see me—"

"Oh, hell no!" Helga flew forward out of Arnold's hands to point a finger straight into Zack's startled face, her shoulders set. "You are going to suffer through every step of this catastrophe with us! Every birthday wish, every damn candle that boy blows out, you are going to have shoved straight into your smug little face! Don't you try to weasel out of this, short man!"

Zack's face immediately blanched. He blinked a couple times before muttering out submissively, "Okay."

Helga smiled, satisfied.


"Helga," a younger Arnold said as he was drying dishes, staring intently as her pale hands washed away the grime from a plate with the bubbles spread out across her bare arms, her loose pink sweater rolled up at the sleeves, "Zack made a rather interesting observation yesterday." He placed the plate away into the cupboard, his back to her.

"Oh?" she asked suspiciously, a thickly trimmed eyebrow cocking itself up though her eyes stayed intent on her task.

"Yes," he replied, innocently enough, and turned back around to pick up a freshly cleaned dish from the drainer to dry off. "We were just discussing my last name, and how nobody ever really knew what it was when we were kids got brought up." A smirk slithered it's way across his lips for a brief second before he cleared it away and gave her a childish grin.

Helga hummed deep in the back of her throat, handing him another plate without looking at him. "And your point, Shortman…?"

"Oh, you know that now," he commented offhandedy, a small grin beginning at his lips as he dried off the plate.

Her eyes snapped to him, eyebrow still raised. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Arnold licked his lips, biting his lip hard to keep from all out beaming at her in smug victory. "Only that my grandpa was calling me by my last name for years and you never figured it out." He flicked his eyes to hers right at that moment, his smile widening. "A bit… dense of you, wouldn't you say?"

Helga's face exploded into the oddest look. She looked absolutely dumbfounded. Arnold decided it was the most perfect look he'd ever seen on her, it was so rare; so beautifully, magnificently rare, like a mermaid or a double rainbow. He wanted to inhale it in, to keep it for all eternity 'cause he doubted he'd ever be able to resist grinning when he thought back on it.

That was ruined when Helga said, "Who the hell says I didn't figure it out?"

Arnold's face went blank. "What?"

Helga's face was thoroughly drained of shock and in it's place was the flattest look he'd ever seen on her. Definitely less enjoyable a face on her. "Football Head, what kind of an idiot do you take me for? Phil did call you it all the time." She rolled her ocean eyes around, a wave crashing against his dreams of finally getting a one up on her. "I'll admit for a while I didn't know it, but as soon as I realized I didn't I did some investigating." She scrubbed a particularly stubborn spot on one plate, her eyes focusing on it as she finished, her arm jerking, "It wasn't exactly hard to figure out."

Arnold stared down at the plate in his hand, now thoroughly dry, but he continued running the towel over it anyway. "Oh."

Helga sensed his dismay and turned her head over to him, her eyes softening. She took pity as she withdrew her hands from the soapy water and took the dry plate from his hands, setting it down on the counter so she could dry her arms off on the towel in his hands. Once her arms were dry, she brought her cold, softened hands up to his face, tut tutting his disappointment. "Aw, Arnold, you really thought you had me. Poor baby."

Arnold's eyes fell half-lidded, unamused. "Helga."

She just rolled her eyes, patting his cheek. "Don't give me that, I'm trying here." She leaned up to peck him on the lips, trying to look sympathetic as possible for her love. She'd gotten better over the years, he'd give her that. "If it helps, I was pretty clueless for a while there. I heard Phil calling you Shortman for years but it took me a long time to put two and two together… I mean, you were short, it was pretty easy to just assume he was referring to that." Her face twisted in the laughter she was trying to hide and she let go of his disturbed face to turn around, her shoulders shaking a little. "You were so tiny," her voice shook, some laughter escaping despite herself.

A small scream shot out of her when Arnold whipped her with the dish towel, smirking. "Yeah, but not anymore, so I suggest you keep that big mouth of yours shut."

She whipped her head around over her shoulder, fluttering her eyelashes exaggeratingly. "All the better to kiss you with, darling!"

Arnold snorted, grabbing her by her arm to pull her closer to him. "Come here, you little brat."

"You're too easy," she laughed, falling into him.

He held her to him with his arms around her back and waist, chuckling deeply. "Says the woman who practically suffocated me before I could even fully ask her to marry me."

Helga stiffened at that. "I'm going to kill you for bringing that up again." She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest, her hands digging into his shirt. "Later."

Arnold just laughed, softer than before, more warm, and rested his head on hers. "You're a mess."

"You're my mess," she murmured, taking in the scent of him, of fresh sea air with just a hint of spice. "My life would be a lot more sane without you, but I wouldn't be happy."

Arnold's hands dug further into her, and his arms tightened as he replied, "Same here."

She hummed musically into his chest, before curiosity finally got the best of her and she asked, her eyes opening, "Why were you talking about our last name anyway?"

Arnold's smile warmed at her use of 'our,' and he shrugged his shoulders. "Apparently some kids were making fun of Zack in school for it. I guess they thought it was funny."

Helga snorted, pulling away from him a little so she could look in his face, smirking. "Short? Zack's not—"

"I know," Arnold laughed out, before grinning.

Helga rolled her eyes with a smile, still in slight disbelief at this news. "Criminy, kids will make fun of anything, won't they?"

"You would know." Arnold smirked.

She slapped him in the chest and pulled away, trying to look unamused though her face wouldn't cooperate. "Keep your trap shut, Football Head, and keep drying!" She grabbed the towel off of the counter where he'd sat it and whipped him this time, right in the arm. He jerked away with a face jokingly twisted in offense and she laughed, throwing the towel in his face.

He humphed through the towel before pulling it off of his face to find Helga back washing dishes again, purposely not looking at him though he could just spot her smile. His smirk still remained pulling at his lips as he picked up the dry plate still resting on the counter and went to put it away. He spoke as he opened up the cupboard. "You know I even think I heard him mumble that they've been calling him 'short man.'"

"Seriously?" her voice came in instant fascination, her head whipping around to broadcast her enthusiastic blue eyes at him. She grinned crookedly, finding the idea positively hilarious. "Awww, just like his old man!" she gushed.

Arnold rolled his eyes with a small snort, and walked over to her to grab the clean plate from her hand with an exaggerated jerk of his arm to help emphasize his point as he replied, "It's not a good thing, Helga." His hands absentmindedly dried off the plate.

"Please, why not?" she bubbled up, no pun intended to her task, and leaned over to him teasingly. "You're always complaining he's not enough like you, and now you have something in common!"

"They didn't mean it in a nice way, Helga," he said dryly, walking over to put the plate away. He spoke with his back turned, "I want us to have something good in common, something we can look back fondly on when he's our age and has kids of his own."

Helga rolled her eyes, plucking a fork up to wipe off. "So slap a baseball cap on him. Easy enough. But I still think it's cute." Her eyes shifted down to the fork in her hand, her eyes softening as she made a small laugh and bounced her shoulders. "Short man… Hilarious. I oughta call him that."

Arnold sent her a look. "Helga, don't be mean."

"I wouldn't say it to be mean," she defended, shooting her eyes to him to give him a look of her own. She smiled then. "I just think it's ironic, and I've been wanting a nickname for him anyway." She gave the fork a small flick to get rid of any residual liquid before handing it to him to finish the job. "Although—"

She was interrupted by the sound of the front door suddenly whipping open and slamming shut, and before either could blink Zack was standing in the doorway with his face ghostly white and eyes hazed. He held his left arm in his right shakingly, and just barely managed to mumble, "I think I broke my arm."

Both Arnold and Helga's jaws practically slammed into the floor, and Helga was on her knees in front of him inspecting his arm before the thought to do so had even finished crossing her mind. Her mind was speeding by in a panicked buzz, and she barely even knew what she was saying. "What happened, honey—how did you hurt it—can you move your fingers—where does it hurt—" question after question flew from her mouth beyond her control, and she put a hand to his cheek to try to soothe him as she looked him over.

He trembled in his spot, his breathing a little shallow from the pain. He stuttered, "I don't know, it just—I mean, we were playing and I fell and landed on it funny and—and—I can sorta move my thumb, I think, but I don't—"

"Okay, everything is going to be fine," Arnold's voice suddenly boomed over them as he was throwing on his coat, ever the level head in the house. He set his face as he explained, moving out of the room, "We're going to the hospital. I'll grab Josh and Phil and we'll be out the door in just a minute—"

"What's going on?" a small voice called suddenly from the other doorway, and they all looked over to see a small football headed boy standing there with his drooping unruly hair and wide blue eyes.

"Josh," Arnold said almost commandingly, walking over to him, "we're going to the hospital, Zack's hurt his arm."

A small four-year-old came waddling into the room then, and fell into Josh's body, clinging to his leg like it was his favorite toy. His big green eyes snapped up to meet his father's, scared, and his mop of brown hair fell over into his face. He tried to blow it away but ultimately failed, and he pouted through it when he finally gave up. Arnold knew he must be really freaked out to not smile at that, but he hid it well as he picked Phil up from the floor, ignoring his squeal of protest, and firmly took hold of Josh's hand. "Come on, guys." He led them to the door in a hurry.

"Okay, okay, okay," Helga repeated over and over again, trying to calm herself down as she stood up and led Zack as gently as possible to the door. Her spazzing out and near-hyperventilation did little to quell his own fears, and he gulped. He made a small reminder to himself to never break anything again for his mom's sake—if he could even help it, that is.

"Everything will be just fine, short man," her voice suddenly cut through his thoughts, and he gasped as his head whirled in her direction.

"Don't call me that!" he squeaked, his arm trembling worse.

Helga's eyes widened for a mere second, before her nervous smile broke down and she nodded. "Okay, Zacky. Everything will be fine."