A/N: Psht, I hate this chapter. I'll be honest, I just don't like it. :P I re-worked it and I re-worked it and I cut out scenes, re-wrote entire concepts, and NOTHING CAME OUT RIGHT. DNAKDNLANDLAKNLDNA It got too long, and it's mostly angst, WAY too complicated, and just bla. The world's biggest headache, ladies and gentlemen. -_- Ugh, my brain hurts. *Rubs temples* "Shortman Secrets" is all about foundation, though, so... I got what I wanted at least. :P Hope you guys can find something good here. XD So far you've been blowing my mind. I love you guys :'D I'LL MAKE UP THIS CRAPPY CHAPTER FOR YOU GUYS~ Seriously. I will. I'll make it my mission. u_u

OH BTW SINCE THIS CHAPTER GOT SO LONG I SPLIT IT UP INTO TWO MWAHAHAHA! SUFFA, SUFFA MY DAHLINGS~

~Gorgeous, Ridiculously Sexeh People~

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Puella Pulchra

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Narcisa Le Fay

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ALL OF YOU. I LOVE ALL OF YOU. I WANT TO HUG YOU UNTIL YOU'RE EITHER BEHIND ME OR GROUND TO A FINE PASTE. NFKNFLANKLDNLAkflandada

Okay, creepy moment over. Let's move on. xD

"Courage isn't an absence of fear. It's doing what you are afraid to do. It's having the power to let go of the familiar and forge ahead into new territory."

—John Maxwell

Important Disclaimer: I run this sh*t. Respect. Seriously. Or I'll hunt you down like a spider in a flea circus. As a whole, I don't own "HEY ARNOLD!" though. xD

Warning: Brief violence. The beginning of this chapter is not a pretty thing to read. There is a lot of angst in this, but it gets a lot better as you go on. Proceed with caution, ducklings.

Looking Up

Part 5

Zack crumpled to the ground from the sheer force of the blow, taking sharp breaths from the pain in his side. Okay, not the best way to start out. "Come on," he rasped, trying to push himself off the ground with only one arm, "I just wanted to talk!"

August laughed his bellowing laugh and grabbed him up by his collar, forcing him back against the side of the dumpster. His lips smirked. "Yap, yap, yap—what are words but the postponing of actions?" His fist tightened around his collar.

Zack choked, unable to hold himself up properly with only one hand. He kicked his legs, trying to find some kind of footing. "I could have you arrested," he tried to threaten, though it came out as a weak plea.

It was a bad move, because August's smug eyes instantly became black. He threw him down against the pavement, the skin of his arm scratching against the rough concrete as August stood over him with his beefy fists clenched tight. "You like stating the obvious, don't you," August breathed fiercely, "well then, here's an obvious fact," he grabbed him by his cast and lifted him into the air, enjoying his silent screams, "I could crush you into the wall if I wanted!" Demonstrating this fact, he grabbed his other arm and forced him against the fence, rattling it like a snake's tail as he forced him against it, denting the metal with his body. "Nobody would know, short man! Nobody would go looking for you! Nobody cares what happens to you!" His furious face sneered directly into his fearsome one. "You've seen the way they look at you," he spoke of their class, "you've seen how much they hate you with your big ugly eyebrow. I could make you disappear in a pinch and no one would know. See how much help the police are then."

Zack trembled at his words. He was right. No one in his class cared about him, they probably didn't even know his name. But they didn't hate him. Zack refused to believe August's words. He couldn't believe him. He'd seen his family going crazy over him just yesterday, and his mother had fussed with him all night, his brothers were horrified—he couldn't taunt him about whether or not people cared anymore. He had something to fight for now. His face strengthening, Zack forced through his teeth, "They don't hate me, they hate you."

August's eyes widened, no doubt shocked by his words, especially since he hadn't been this chatty in months. As it processed, his eyebrows dug into the mud brown of his inflamed irises. With a jerk of his fist, Zack was sprawled across the pavement on his back, his head hitting the back of the dumpster and making his head spin. As August took a step towards him, Zack cowered on instinct, and August stopped in an instant. A smirk curled his lips and he nodded his head, satisfied with his work. He checked his watch then. Recess would be over in ten minutes, and he had a swing reserved. "All right, Shortie," he took the final steps over to him and grabbed his good arm, lifting him up just enough to grin into his dazed face, "as soon as recess is over, I'm going to get a pen and sign your cast." He let go of him then and walked away, back out into the open grounds of the playground, tossing over his shoulder, "Be ready."

Something snapped in Zack's mind in that moment, something strange overwhelming him. He could see his entire future flashing before his eyes, years of torture like this until finally his parents found out, his brothers knew—and there would be nothing left of him but a few pathetic flowers on a gravestone. He could see the small turnout of his family, no friends to be seen, and his parents never being able to get over the grief. Perhaps it was an exaggeration, perhaps he was just overly paranoid, but the images haunted him. His body was aching, his arm throbbing, the world spinning, but he could barely control himself. With no little amount of struggle, Zack forced himself up off the ground and went running out from behind the dumpster, catching himself as he tripped over his own feet. Right in front of everyone, with August already deep in a sea of children, Zack shouted, "Hey August!"

August froze, before he turned his head around with a raised eyebrow and a controlled expression. "Yes, Zack?"

Zack smirked. "Your shoe's untied."

"She's what?" Zack exploded, his backpack falling away off his shoulder and dropping like an oversized grenade onto the ground. Everything was ringing in his ears, and the backpack falling sounded like a nuclear bomb.

Arnold remained unimpressed. "I'm driving her to school. It was the least I could do after the…" he hated even bringing it up, "incident," he settled.

Zack cringed at the reminder of the life-scarring event, before his eyes popped open wide and he made a point, lifting his finger up like a true diplomat, "But the car can barely hold Phil, Josh and I! How do you expect to be able to squeeze Pam in along with us?"

Arnold blinked at this, seeing his point, but it was easily resolved. "Okay," he said slowly, before he smiled, a tad smug though you had to squint to see it in his half-lidded face, "then you'll just have to give her your seat."

Incredulity zinged across his face, and in an instant he was yelling, "Then where am I supposed to sit?"

Arnold waved him off easily, turning around to unlock the car door. "We'll just tie you up on the hood. You'll be fine." He chuckled.

Zack's face soured. "There has to be some kind of law against this. I'm sure this must fall under the heading of Child Abuse."

"Oh, just shut up already," Pam yelled, popping her head up from the other side of the car to glare at him. "It's like a ten minute ride to the school—it's not going to kill you! Stop being such a little whiner."

"I'm not a whiner!" he raged, shooting forward to stand against the other side of the car to glare at her closer. "I just don't think it's a good idea to have a wild animal locked into a car with children on board!"

"And yet he still drives you everywhere," Pam sighed wistfully, looking over at Arnold who was leaning against the side of the car amused, "You, sir, are a saint."

Arnold burst into deep laughter, before he just settled on a grin and moved away from the car. "You don't have to tell me." He got into the car, and with a click of a switch the rest of the locks shot open. Phil pushed Zack out of the way so he could open the door for himself, and Zack's teeth chattered in tune with his emotions as he ripped open his father's door again. "You didn't answer where I'm supposed to sit, O' Master," he snapped sarcastically.

Arnold looked up at him, unconcerned with his look, and just smiled, patting the seat beside him. "Shot gun."

Zack's eyes widened, his annoyance immediately forgotten. He couldn't keep the hopeful note out of his voice, "Really?" His father never let any of them sit up front. Something about the back being safer, and the airbag being deadly to shorter people. Zack had been more than tall enough to handle it ever since puberty, but his dad was still adamant about keeping him as safe as possible. Zack always got the sense his dad was paranoid, and his mother was overprotective, so the two of them together was a big parental pain the butt. This was shocking, to say the least. But in the best way possible. He almost had to curse himself for asking, for fear his father would change his mind.

But no, Arnold just continued to smile at him, and he nodded his head. "Like Pam said, it's only a ten minute drive. Hop in." He reached out to slam the door shut, and Zack took a couple steps back.

It only took a second more for it to sink in, before an ear-splitting grin spread across his face. In a suddenly fantastic mood, Zack bounded backwards, grabbing up his backpack in the process, before running over to slide across the hood of the car to the other side. Landing on his feet, he opened the car door and slid into the seat beside his dad, who was looking at him disapprovingly. He didn't even care, though, as he looked in wonder all around the front part of the car he was determined to one day own. "Ahhh…" laughing, he laid back in his seat, put his hands behind his head with his bag beside him in the seat, and sighed happily, "I feel like a big boy."

"Man," Phil started with wide eyes as he leaned forward to look at him incredulously, "you just cleaned the car off with your butt."

"And a fine job I did, Philly."

Arnold reached forward to smooth out his eldest son's sunshine hair, before he took hold of it by the roots and pulled him to sit upright with a firm grip, just gentle enough not to really hurt him. "Never do that again," he instructed dryly, before he smoothed his hair back out and pointed to his seat belt. "Put that on, and don't put the front part behind yourself."

Zack nodded and swiftly did so, adjusting the part of the belt going across his chest so it wasn't digging into him. He couldn't seem to find a comfortable angle with it, though, so he gave up and just allowed it to run straight across the top of his chest, unnervingly close to his neck. Zack hated barriers and feeling like he was trapped. But a little discomfort was more than worth sitting up front and his grin remained undimmed.

As their father pulled them out of the driveway and began down the road, Pam felt the need to comment, a bit sarcastic, "You're getting this excited just over sitting in the front seat?"

Zack turned around to look at her, still with that grin. Not even she could ruin this for him, and he just chuckled, "Simple pleasures, Ms.—" he stopped suddenly, and he raised half his eyebrow at her, "What is your last name?"

Pam's eyes widened, but before she could answer him, Phil suddenly burst into song, "You can offer me a diamond plated pearl, you can send me all the riches in the world! You can tempt me with the palaces of kings! I'd give them back in a big old sack and keep the simple things!" Phil burst into laughter, nearly falling in Pam's lap as he heaved himself forward. "I couldn't resist! I just—I just thought of that again!"

Everyone instantly exploded into laughter along with him, Arnold shaking in his seat, Zack slapping his knees and Ham running his hands down his face as he practically cried from the hilarity. Phil got over his laughter before the rest of them and was just smiling in his seat, the disturbingly chipper little thing he was in the mornings, while meanwhile Pam was sitting in the middle of it all utterly confounded.

"Uh—" she began awkwardly.

"I can't believe you kids still remember that!" Arnold interrupted her without realizing, unable and unwilling to hold back his grin as he looked back at his children.

"Who could forget Mr. Hyunh's epic single?" Ham laughed in the back, leaning forward to grab onto the back of Zack's seat and support himself.

Zack threw his head back, palming his eyes as he laughed. "Holy crap, best discovery ever! I still can't believe he can sing like that!"

"Whatever happened to the CD?" Phil asked, his eyes widening a bit.

Arnold was the one to answer, "It's probably still in the attic."

Zack snapped his head over to his father, and he stated enthusiastically, "We have to find that again! I've already forgotten so many of the words!"

"Oh, I remember it from front to back," Phil informed him casually, silently offering to teach it to them again.

Pam had already proceeded to shrink down in her seat at all this "family reminiscing," so when they all suddenly burst into country singing, she didn't know what else she could do but purse her lips and try to visualize someplace far away. Mexico, perhaps, with those giant headphones that take up practically all of your head blasting in her ears. This family was clearly just as madly insane and random as Zack, and she didn't know quite how to handle it when she was feeling so immensely out of the loop (the fruit loop, she thought amusedly). That is until they started singing the chorus again and it finally clicked with her what song they were singing. Her eyes lit up, and the laugh that burst from her was completely involuntary, "Hey, I think I know this song!"

Ham stopped singing and looked over at her, his gorgeous blue eyes still bright. "You do?" he humored her.

She glanced over at him, and a hint of nervousness came over her as she realized she was sitting leg-to-leg with a young Adonis, before she nodded, still excited. "Yeah, 'The Simple Things,' right? I heard it on the radio once when I was a kid! I haven't heard it in years." She was suddenly confused again, and she looked around at them all. "Do you guys know the artist or something?"

"Oh, yes," Zack said in a deep tone, turning around in his seat to look at her from under his eyebrow, "our dad grew up with him."

Pam's green eyes went huge, and her lungs deflated in an instant. Her voice was a little hoarse, "He huh?"

"And that's not even the best part!" Phil burst into the conversation, wanting to be the one to tell, as he always had to be with this story. His eyes burned with the prospect of retelling one of his favorite stories of his family, especially since it always freaked people out. "The singer is a Vietnamese man!"

And the girl did not disappoint. Pam looked at him like his brain had just popped out his ear and tap danced on his shoulder. He was accustomed to this, though, and he just shook his head, smirking, and added, "He has a really thick accent, too. He grew up in Vietnam and had to leave because of the war. Dad grew up with him in the boarding house our family owns, and he's the one who got him to record the song and get it on the radio."

"What?" Pam looked between him and Mr. Shortman, a bit distressed with the urge to know whether or not this was true or the kid really was insane. Based on her observations the night before with him yelling at people and downing the fruit punch like he was thirsting to death (or had to refill his fruit cup fuel, she thought—man, these fruit jokes were just never ending, weren't they?), she couldn't be sure.

But no, Arnold just cast a glance back at her, his face warm and nodded his head before turning back around. He offered no further words, though, and the tension on Pam's face intensified. "Well?" she stressed, not one for subtle hints.

Ham from beside her leaned his arm on the armrest attached to his car door and looked over at her calmly, a relaxed smile on his face as he inquired, "What do you want to know?" Ham was the storyteller of the family usually, as he'd spent most of his younger years stocking up and asking as many questions as possible in his impossible enthusiasm. Despite his claims of his family being mad, he loved hearing their stories, and nobody was surprised that he kept humoring her curiosity.

Except Pam, who snapped her head to him in startlement. He was really going to have to start giving her warnings if he was going to talk to her or sit next to her or… exist… anywhere. Coughing a little, she grinned nervously and said, "Okay, here's a start…" she leaned closer to him, and she nudged him with her elbow, her voice lowering, "is it just me or is that kid a few raspberries short of a bushel—"

In an instant, Ham's eyes were dinner-plate sized and he was slapping a hand across her face. "Shhh…" he said a bit frantically, cringing, "do not let him hear you say that. It is way too early." He gave her a serious look. "Now, if I let your mouth go, will you promise not to speak of… or any fruit in general, again?"

Pam could only manage a weak nod.

Ham sighed and let her go, leaning back in his seat in relief. "Good." Noticing her rigid posture then, he eyed her blank expression, trying to figure out what her problem was. "What?"

Pam's laugh was hoarse and sounded a lot more like she was choking than laughing. She couldn't even manage the nerve to grimace at herself, so she just confessed tremulously, "You're really attractive."

Ham blinked at her, his face blanking out, before a small grin colored his face and he chuckled quietly. He didn't look surprised at all, and Pam suddenly found herself wondering how many other girls had told him that before. She blushed, and all he had to say was, "Thanks." Pam just blushed more.

Zack suddenly snapped his fingers from the front seat, as if he'd just remembered something. "Oh yeah…" Turning around in his seat, he smacked his lips a little and pointed to Ham, his voice perfectly casual, "he has a miniature shrine to some chick in his desk drawer." Pausing, he seemed to contemplate a moment before he added, looking at Pam, "He also snores like a horse."

Ham's face practically exploded with blushing and his pupils went to the size of ants. "Zack!" he screeched, nearly scaring Arnold enough to veer off the road. He caught himself at the last minute, though, and Zack just smiled at Ham.

He shrugged. "Sorry, bro," he turned his smirky face on Pam, "just trying to save a young fool from too much heartache." He leaned in a bit closer to her startled face, a finger poised at Ham, "That's tainted goods, girly. Try some lamb instead."

Arnold put a hand to his chest to calm his heart, and looked behind at them all with round, alarmed eyes. "Please, what have I said about violent outbursts in the car?"

"But Dad, he—" Ham tried to say, his face bright red and nearly matching his shirt.

He was interrupted by Pam's incredulous voice, "A shrine? What girl?"

Zack laughed at the questions. "Hell if I know, Ham may be good at sports, but he's horrible with art. It looked like a five-year-old's imitation of a Picasso!"

Ham didn't think it was possible to sink any lower in his seat, but he was practically with his back to where his butt should be now, his face inflamed. Zack gave him a closer look. Okay, he was still breathing, so he didn't shock him too bad. Zack didn't mean to humiliate him but Phil had practically threatened his life last night when he told him to fix it. This was the fastest and most effective method, and besides, maybe it would interest Pam enough that she'd leave him alone about his grade and start madly questioning Ham like he was a mental patient. After all, Ham liking a girl wasn't a big deal, it'd be forgotten within a day—Zack writing poetry, though? That would go down in the history books.

Ham didn't know about any of this, though, and he opened his mouth again to rage once more when his father suddenly snapped a warning look on him. He shut his mouth, and it was at that moment they all realized Arnold had come to a stop in front of the High School. With the car still running, Arnold stayed turned around to them all and said, starting to sound as tired as he felt, "All right, everyone out. I still need to drop Phil off and get to work at least a little on time."

Now it was Zack's turn to sink down in his seat, in both relief and dread. She hadn't said a single word about the grade the entire drive here. It was nothing short of a miracle, but Zack wasn't about to question it. He had bigger things to worry about, like how he was going to avoid her for the entire school day. His eyes shifted over to take in the large, red doors of the High School and he should have been so much more comforted. The High School was huge, and yet Zack wasn't even a little confident. It was the first time in a long time, and though he was careful to keep the fear out of his face, he knew his pupils were no doubt microscopic, if not utterly shot.

He was shocked out of it by his car door opening, and Ham's large hand suddenly grabbing him by his arm and dragging him up to the school. Zack stumbled after him, dazed and confused. Images were flashing before his eyes unbidden, things long passed that he had been working on repressing for years. As Ham pulled him to stumble up the stairs, the image of him flashed into a small seven-year-old boy, and then with another blink, he was fourteen. Zack's eyes snapped to see his father driving away, and then back to see Pam standing on the sidewalk staring at them. He snapped his eyes away, his stomach flipping as Ham pushed the door open. Zack stumbled again, like he couldn't control it, and Ham had to push him back up onto his feet. His thanks were resting on his lips right at the moment Ham slammed him up against the wall.

Zack's eyes were impossibly large as Ham forced him against the wall by his collar, a deep scowl etching into his face. Zack wasn't afraid of Ham, not even a little, but at that moment, all he could see was red hair and even redder eyes glaring into him, and he couldn't be more terrified. Ham's growled warning was almost lost to him, "That was so out of line, Zack. If you wanted dibs on her, all you had to do was say so! I don't care!"

And then Zack was back out of it and Ham was blond-haired once more and looking at him through childishly frustrated blue eyes. Zack's disgusted tone wasn't even on purpose, and his stomach was lurching so unnervingly he didn't know how he even managed to speak, "Josh, I can't stand that girl, I don't want—"

"Then why would you do that?" Ham raged, before he let go of him and glared at him, his fists at his sides. "You can't just spurt out things like that to random strangers! Don't you have any sort of decency in you—"

Zack sputtered, pushing away from the wall, "I didn't mean—"

Ham interrupted him again, the blues of his eyes heated, "No, you just didn't think! You never think, do you? You have no respect for anyone's feelings!"

Zack's mouth was twitching but he tried hiding it through his words. "Ham," he said slowly, hoping calling him by his preferred name would dull his anger, "we were all in the car, Phil already knows about it, Dad's not going to look at you any different, and that girl? She's too busy tormenting me to give you a second thought. All I did was tell her you already liked someone…" He put his hands up in surrender. "You know I didn't mean to hurt you."

The anger faded a tad in Ham, leaving only a slight frustration boiling in the pits of his eyes. His cheeks turned pink as he looked down. "I'm not hurt… I mean…" He sighed, his entire face nearly hot pink. He looked humiliated. "I'm just really embarrassed."

Zack managed a weak smirk, and his eyes flashed with amusement. He'd clearly hit a nerve of some sort, but the embarrassment was a bit much. "Please, Josh. Old hats don't look good on you."

"What?" Ham raised his head to cock an eyebrow at him.

Zack laughed and pushed him along down the hall, anxious to get away from the front entrance before the she-devil had a chance to shuffle inside. "I'm just saying, nobody cares if you have a crush or don't have a crush, Josh. I could have mentioned things so much more scarring. Like those Wally underpants you own that you wear whenever it gets cold, or how you refuse to use any other bathrobe but Mom's big, pink, fluffy one when you get out of the shower, or the constipation medicine Mom forces down your throat every week, or that you wax that little monobrow you've had going since you were thirteen, or even—" He was literally counting on his fingers all the things Ham had thought were secrets.

But Ham had to say, he wasn't surprised. Even still, he just eyed his brother up and down and stopped him mid-sentence when he couldn't take it anymore, in a tone both dry and a bit unnerved at the same time, "Right, I get it…" His eyes fell flat. "You're a true saint, Zack."

"I know I am." Zack beamed, letting his hands drop to his sides. A second later a hand was on Ham's back and pushing him down the hall again. Since their dad had to get them all out the door early so he could make it to school on time, they were about an hour early for school. This happened sometimes, so they thought nothing of it when the halls were empty. But early or not, Zack had to get him away from him, he had to have some time to breathe. "Now go off, young one, and fulfill your nerdy destiny!"

Ham walked the first few involuntary steps, before Zack's hand disappeared and he turned his head to raise an eyebrow once more.

Zack kept his smirk up for as long as he could, until Ham seemed satisfied with his staring and continued down the hall with a sigh. As soon as he'd turned the corner, Zack's face fell and he unleashed a monster of a breath, his hair drooping down over his eyes. A hand came up to rub at his temple and he closed his eyes. He felt like he was losing his mind, thinking for even a second Ham was him, and just as he thought he might be starting to feel a little more himself, a voice sounded from behind him that destroyed all semblance of normalcy, "Does he really wear a big, pink robe?"

Zack didn't turn around. He didn't dare. His voice came out utterly dried of emotion, "If you're going to ask me about what my grade was again, the answer is a resounding Hell no." Even still, he didn't move, his legs feeling screwed to the floor. He cursed anxiety.

The voice merely chuckled, oblivious to the wars raging in his head, voices screaming at him to run. "Straight to the point. All righty then." He heard the footsteps when they began, and he heard them when they stopped, directly behind him and his taut body. A hand grabbed him by his arm and tried jerking him around, but not even she—especially not she—could break him of his stiffness, and the sound of her voice didn't help, "If it's a stubborn game you want to play, I guarantee I'll win."

Zack cut his eyes to the ceiling, refusing to look at her. He had to cling to at least that bit of will he had in this. "You underestimate me."

Pam sniffed out a laugh, unfazed. "Either that or you overestimate yourself. Guess which one I believe."

That got him to look at her, but his hardened glare did nothing to dissuade her grin. A backpack was shoved into his arms the next second, and Pam explained before he had any time to be properly confused, "You left it in the car when Ham dragged you out like a ragdoll. You're welcome." She clasped her hands behind herself and rocked on her feet, apparently pleased with herself.

Zack stared at his backpack, before looking up at her with half his brow raised. He didn't know what she expected for returning it to him. Was this a method of bribery of some sort? Some kind of sucking up to the enemy? Well, whatever it was, it wasn't going to work on him. His voice came out almost as a monotone, "Golly gosh, thanks so much."

Her pleased look cleared at that, much to his pleasure, and she glared at him. "Is sarcasm all you know?"

Zack just shrugged, hiding his smirk. "Sometimes."

Pam sighed and her eyes went rolling like sickly waves. Zack's stomach went with them, knowing what this meant, and Pam's throwing her own Kitty Cat backpack onto the floor did little to ease his nerves before she was speaking again, "Well, I can beat you at that game too. You must think you're such hot doody embarrassing me time after time in front of Ham, but the joke's on you!" She shoved a finger in his face, her eyes set. "I don't even like him! He's too young for me, I just happen to think he's hot. If I really liked him I wouldn't have been able to admit how attractive he really is to him. I don't just blurt junk out like that."

Zack gave her an odd look, a plethora of possible responses shooting through his eyes before he just settled on scoffing. He was too tired for this, and damn it if she wasn't confusing. What kind of baloney was this? Did she expect him to eat this rubbish? She'd been an invariable storm of blushing ever since she laid eyes on him. His mind was running purely on auto-pilot when he said, flatly, "Two years is hardly a deal breaker."

Pam rolled her eyes again, something she felt she would be bound to do a lot when she was in his presence. "You said yourself it was yesterday. You can't just randomly change your mind. Seriously, if I'm going to like a guy who's not in my age group, I want him to be older, not younger." She gave him the stink eye. "Do you have any idea how immature guys are at that age? Or," she looked him up and down sarcastically, "at any age?" Before he could sputter out some kind of comeback, she relaxed her posture back and went on, "But enough about that, let's get this over with, no more dilly-dallying. Now we have two options here. One, you tell me, in order, why you don't like me, why you're being such a baby, and what grade you got, or two, I bug you within an inch of your life until you either kill yourself or try to kill me and I kill you in self defense. Either way in the second option you end up dead, so I don't think you have much of a choice here."

Zack's eyes flared before he threw his backpack down beside hers, as if preparing for battle, and slapped his hands together in front of himself with an annoyed grace. Anger wasn't something he was accustomed to, but he couldn't seem to help it around her. "As compelling as I find your flimsy little argument, Ms. Longstocking, I think I'm going to have to go with option C. AKA, get a restraining order and a taser," he leaned down into her face, the daggers in his eyes sharpening, "not necessarily in that order."

Pam's face only hardened further at his words, much to his dismay, and she took things a step further, everything—from her posture to her tone—the very definition of snarky. "Like I said, try to hurt me and I'll kill you. You may think I'm underestimating you, but you have no idea how severely you've been underestimating me." With these words, she took a step forward into his space, as if to demonstrate the immense power she held despite her small stature. If his feet weren't in cement he'd have moved away, but as it were, he did nothing but glare. She may have thought she scared and enraged him because of this "power" she thought she naturally had, but in all reality, she was nothing but a fabrication of his past. Had she been a brunette or blonde or anything, they would never have been having this conversation, and damn it if this wouldn't have been so much easier.

Seeing as he wasn't responding, Pam's glare softened slightly, though he really didn't care to notice, too busy wondering if there was any way he could dye her hair in the night without her noticing. Her voice was more normal this time, startling him, "Now, about those questions?"

Zack stared at her for a long time, parts of his brain fizzling and popping. She was persistent, so irritatingly persistent. The day hadn't even begun yet, and already his exhaustion was bearing down on him like a ten-ton weight. He'd bet she could make even Willy Horowitz want to declare war, and he'd only just been throwing flowers and talking about world peace yesterday. He couldn't deal with this, not today, not ever again. He'd just have to compromise. Throw the dog a bone and then run while the mongrel chased it to the ends of the earth. Maybe then he'd find some peace. Begrudgingly, in a voice that was barely a voice considering he'd never admitted to this before, he mumbled, "It's the hair."

Pam blinked, and instinctively a hand went up to ghost across her ponytail. "What?"

Zack sighed, and the rocks under the skin of his shoulders transformed to water. He eyed her ponytail warily, admitting to her, "It's the red hair. You were right. I hate gingers."

He saw her eyes grow, before they tried to fill up with resentment. He cut her off before she could even think to yell, "It's not like that." He shook his head a little at her, before he released a breath into the empty halls. "I knew someone once with red hair who…" possible words bobbled through his skull, "bugged me," he decided, a bit of irony in his voice, "and whenever I look at you, I see that person. It's not really you, it's me."

Pam stared at him for a couple seconds, before she pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. "What a nice way to break up with me—"

Zack rolled his eyes with a tired huff of breath, interrupting her, "Whatever, Pammy, an explanation is an explanation. Happy?"

"Not really." A glare shot from her eyes like a bullet. Her fuse had officially run out, and it was about time for the explosion. "I've said it once and I'll say it again—you're a terrible liar. You want to know what I think—"

Zack's breath was heavy, "Not even a little—"

"I think you're just one of those jerks who sees something different about someone and immediately latches onto it as an excuse to hate them. I saw the way you looked at me yesterday. Your eyes went straight to my hair, barely even glanced at my face." Her eyes hardening, she grabbed her ponytail and waved it in his face, taunting, "That's right, I'm a redhead! Get used to it because it's not changing!" He'd backed away from her hair when she'd done that, so she let it fall from her hand and went marching after him, her shoulders set and eyes an ashy forest fire. His eyes in contrast were wide as he continued to back away from her, shocked. "My patience with you has officially run out. I know your type, all you're concerned about is yourself and your sick little popularity game. Can't even admit that you're freaking amazing at poetry! Here I thought you'd be some kind of sensitive, deep guy, but instead you're just a pompous ass! Well joke's on you! You can't fool me. I can tell when a guy is lying." Having him backed into a wall, she angrily shoved her finger in his face. "And that's all you are! A liar!"

Zack spluttered before he just snapped his mouth shut and stared at her, his heart pounding in his ears.

August was looking at him like he'd gone mad. Vaguely, his eyes shifted down to look at his expensive, crisp white shoes, where the laces were still tied expertly up into two perfect bows. He was no doubt thinking he'd finally beaten all sanity out of him, but Zack's smirk didn't dim. Kids were looking from out of the corner of their eyes, some just unashamedly staring, and Zack was glad. He wanted a crowd.

Before long, August looked up at him again, his expression composed, and yelled, "There's nothing wrong with my shoelaces!"

Zack's face took on an interested look, as if he found what he'd just said simply fascinating. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. There's plenty wrong with them."

August turned fully around to look at him, and his posture shifted to one side almost boredly. A small frown on his face, he decided to humor him, "Oh, really? Do tell."

Zack chuckled a little high-pitchedly, some of his nerve slipping at him being fully facing him now. He really must have lost his mind at least a little to have even thought of doing this, but there was no turning back now. People were staring, recess would be over soon, and he couldn't risk his dad seeing. At the thought of his dad, he instantly blurted, "They're attached to you! That's what's wrong with them!"

A slow hush fell over the playground, as everyone stared in complete gobsmacked silence. Kids held back gasps at his audacity, and girls had to fan themselves with their hands to keep from fainting away to the concrete. August's expression had frozen, and he didn't budge an inch. Zack was in a similar state. Suddenly, a small chuckle was heard.

It was exactly the break needed, and a second later the entire playground was exploding with laughter; guffaws, hoots, and hollers were coming from every angle, and August snapped out of his shock and whipped an alarmed glare around at them all. Zack, however, was paralyzed. He could hardly believe that had worked. A second later he wondered what was wrong with him, pulling a stunt like that if he wasn't even certain he wouldn't walk away a zombie from it. Then again it still wasn't guaranteed he wouldn't. His face paled at that, but he did his best to hold his ground. He had to be strong, even if his legs were begging for him to run away.

Inevitably, August's eyes eventually snapped to him, and they flashed red. As a way of insurance, Zack took a couple bounding steps farther into the playground, closer to him before he had a chance to close in on him. That was all he could manage, though, and Zack's face hardened as he stared into the face of his bully. Forcing a smirk onto his face, he asked, trying to imitate his smug tone, "What's the matter, August? Cat got your tongue?" His chuckle echoed in his own ears.

August's eyes widened and he stiffened again. No one had ever stood up to him before. Not like this, not in front of everyone and after months of him trying to beat the nerve out of them. His fists clenched then. Whatever had gotten into him, he was going to kick it out. Slowly, he took measured steps towards Zack, trying to intimidate him with just the sheer force of his glare.

Zack didn't budge, though. At his look, Zack just chuckled again. Kids were laughing to the point some were crying actual tears, there were a shipload of witnesses here, and Zack could feel himself growing bolder. He held out his good arm in a welcoming gesture, and grinned challengingly. This made August pause, and Zack took advantage of this as he took yet another step closer to him, and farther away from the dumpster, farther away from his fears. He was starting to see August for what he truly was—power hungry. And he didn't have the power here, Zack did.

Starting to feel a bit cocky, Zack leaned forward with his hand on his hip, smirking, "Really, August, you're starting to look a little pale. Maybe you should lie down."

"Maybe you should lie down!" Before anyone knew what was going on, August had Zack pushed down on the ground and had his foot pressing down on his chest. The laughter immediately halted and a gasp was ripped from Zack's throat. August bared down on him with his foot, pointing furiously to his shoe with a hysterical yell, "See that? That's called a flawlessly tied shoe! You think you're so funny…" he leaned down to cut his eyes at him, "well, joke's over, short man. I am going to beat you so hard, your ancestors' wake up!"

Zack took a moment to just breathe heavily and try to gain back some semblance of the confidence he'd possessed before, and he just managed to force a glare up at him. "Fine," he choked, "you've been threatening to for long enough, just get it over with. I'm done messing around." Everyone looked around at each other, murmuring.

Something strange flashed over August's face—something like panic or discontent, but it was gone a millisecond later and he was grabbing Zack up by his collar and suspending him up in the air by his fist, drawing his other one back with a scowl. "Be careful what you ask for, Shortie! Don't think I won't!"

Zack just stared down at him, his face hard. "Whatever, August." His face searched his bully, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't see red eyes or inflamed hair or pure, unrivaled evil. He saw frustrated, dark brown eyes and fluffy orange hair, and a twitching scowl and hesitant fist. Zack knew how August worked—despite what people said about bullies being dumb, August was very smart. He knew to keep his bullying somewhat hush-hush, he knew just the right threats to make to keep kids from crying to their parents, and he especially knew that punching a kid out in front of the entire school was a bad idea. Things had gone too far, though, and there was no turning back, but also no going forward. Either way he would end up in major trouble, and Zack could feel the last bit of his fear trickle out of him. He could see past the façade now, and all he saw was an oversized jerk.

Summoning as much strength as he could muster into his voice, with his only thought being of his family, Zack announced loud and clear, "I'm not afraid of you anymore, Bailey! You can punch me as many times as you want, tell a hundred more lies, but I'm not afraid! Because I know you're wrong, and you can't hurt me anymore!" August's fist had loosened enough that he managed to push himself free, and he fell back onto the ground. Coughing, he glared up at August, unwavering.

August was staring down at him with the most disturbed expression, frozen and without a word to say. Zack took advantage of this and stood up from the ground, dusting off his cast with a careful hand. He'd been wrong. It was a strong cast, not even August could penetrate that. August was even weaker than he was.

But he wasn't weak. He realized that now. He'd just said things to August that he had only dreamed of possessing the courage to say. He'd finally stood up for himself, after weeks and months of hiding behind a mask of fake smiles and blank faces. He was free, he didn't have to go through a second more of this. The realization of what he'd just done was liberating, and a smirk burst onto his face against his permission as a rush of pride flew through him. Taking a breath and reminding himself this wasn't over just yet, Zack looked up at August and stood up perfectly erect, to his full average-for-a-boy-his-age height. "I'm Zack Shortman. Not short man. Shortman. And you can't tell me what to do anymore." A thick scowl crossed over his face and he took a small step forward, a small risk though the boiling anger just below the surface of his eyes permitted it. "Now you either leave me alone, leave everyone alone, and carry on with your life trouble free, or I tell on you for everything you've done to me." Glancing down at his cast, he raised half of his brow as if something interesting had just occurred to him. He looked up at August again, and mused, "I wonder, if I went to the doctor again in a couple days, would he find finger bruises?" He hummed, taking a step back to shrug his shoulders, his other arm resting on his cast. "That would be an interesting experiment, huh?" A small smirk came to rest on his face.

August stared at him for a long moment, before gradually, his eyes shifted from left to right, seeing all the gawking faces staring at the scene. Blinking, his face hardened, and he leaned down into Zack's face, as if to warn him, "You think these idiots will support you in this? They don't care about you."

Zack stared at him, not budging from his spot. "Maybe not now." He grinned an almost evil grin, the grin of a pink-bowed ruler of decades past, and finished, "But they will."

August's lips sneered slightly, and he felt the need to make one final point, "All right, smart guy. You may think you hold all the cards now, but one day," he leaned in just a tiny bit closer, and cut his eyes to slits, "you'll be all alone with no one around, and in that moment," he smirked, the smirk of a boy desperate for the last ounce of power he had left, "you'll realize I was right all along, about everything." He shrugged. "After all, nobody likes a girly man."

August didn't wait to see his reaction. He just stood back up and, as if nothing had happened, casually wandered off of the playground and back inside the school. The bell rang shortly after, but nobody moved from their spots.

Zack stared after him in shock. Not just at his words, but at the fact that he'd actually won. It was over. He could hardly believe it.

The sudden explosion of cheers nearly made his heart explode, and he snapped his wide eyes to see everyone clapping madly and grinning at him. Zack's jaw slowly unhinged as he took this in, his heart trying to jump out of his chest. He'd never cared what these people thought of him before, but in the last few months, he had been desperate for some kind of recognition in their eyes. Anything but fear, anything but pity. But he hadn't ever thought he'd have practically the entire student body screaming his praises. The pride from before came rushing back tenfold, and he grinned at them all, rubbing the back of his neck a little nervously.

Rueben Gammelthorpe-Wellington-Lloyd walked out from the crowd to pose a respectful hand towards him, a small smile on his lips as he took in Zack's proud posture. "Well done, Zachary. You're a bold one."

Zack blinked at the rich boy, before he grinned once more and grabbed his hand, shaking it. "I know." A smirk curled his lips, deadly and prideful, and Rueben raised a sharp eyebrow in impressed surprise. Zack let go of his hand then and reached up to smooth out his hair, chuckling. "But please, call me Zack."

He snapped his eyes to a couple girls off on the sidelines then and winked, which immediately brought surprised blushes to their faces. At their quiet giggles, his smirk broadened and he shared a smug look with Rueben.

"What the heck did I miss?" a small voice suddenly yelled, and all eyes went to a small football headed boy standing on the staircase of the school, his blue eyes huge.

Zack laughed. He wanted to fall to his knees and cry, but instead he just laughed, a loud almost maniacal cackle that had everyone else giggling and Reuben raising an eyebrow again. Josh looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"Are you sure you don't want to take maternity leave now?" Arnold asked worriedly over the pay phone by the school, leaning back against the glass as his fingers tapped anxiously against the metal. He paused as Helga spoke over the other end, before he burst out with, "You threw up in the middle of the room!" His shoulders tensed at her shouted reply, and he couldn't help mumbling under his breath, "And you're already having mood swings… To think here all this time I just thought your friend had come for an extended visit…" He had to pull the phone away from his ear, Helga's screaming was so loud. He winced into the receiver. "Okay, okay! Helga, I'm sorry… I'm just worried, it's not good for you to get so worked up… Did you tell your dad yet?"

He paused as he listened to her reply, his tongue flicking out to glide across his upper lip in nerves before he responded softly, "Helga, men can't have PMS…" He paused at her frustrated reply, before a small smile spread over his face. "Well, I'll drop the kids off at the boarding house and go down there to tell him for you, for us. I'll even stop by the store on the way there and pick up some 'supplies' if it'll make you feel better. Uh, no disrespect to your dad…" He coughed, before grinning as her crackled laughter exploded from the receiver. He wished she was here so he could kiss her. His hands were still a little shaky from yesterday, still processing the fact they were going to be having another baby, and every once in a while his vision would split and he'd have the urge to giggle.

He almost couldn't help it as he fell back completely against the glass, his head falling back as he closed his eyes and said dreamily, "You think it'll be a boy or a girl…?" Helga's voice was sweet against his ear, but her joke made his eyes pop open and smirk at the phone. "Helga, honestly, I'm not asking my… my…" He stuttered to a stop as she interrupted him, before he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay, I'm sorry. No one could have known having boys somehow ran in the family. Yeah, Grandpa had Dad, and Dad had me, but my great Grandpa had twins. A boy and a girl… I have hope." He grinned at her reply and pushed away from the wall, laughing. "Oh boy, don't even joke about that! I don't think we could handle five kids. Three is stressful enough, and four…" He sputtered, blushing as it occurred to him they had a lot of kids, more than anyone else from the old gang. His face went a bit rueful. "You know there are going to be jokes about this…" She just laughed over the other end.

The bell rang then and Arnold's eyes widened, nearly dropping the phone. He huffed at how jumpy he'd become and pressed the phone hurriedly back to his ear. "Helga, the bell—" she stopped him before he could say, understanding and sounding very amused, as if she knew how crazy he was right now, and he sighed, smiling. "Okay… do you want me to come or not? Because I will." He could almost see her rolling her eyes at him and he pulled the phone away from his face to hug it to his chest, sighing to the ceiling, before he put it back up to his ear and said, "Okay, Helga, good luck, and come home early." She tried to protest at that but this time, he interrupted her, his voice strong and face going stern. He spoke to her as if she were one of his rowdy students, "No, Helga, no arguing about this. I'm putting my foot down. For my own sanity, as soon as it's your break, come home. Bob can get Eduardo or Miriam to help. You're not the only one there, and you're pregnant with our baby girl!" His frustrated face immediately stilted as she spoke him, tentative and soft, and he had to smile despite himself. His shoulders bounced as he teasingly replied into the phone, "I told you I'm hopeful. By the way, I've always liked the name Faith. I love you." He hung up then, leaving her with that thought to nibble on, and instantly released a huge breath and fell back against the booth again, grinning. "And if it's twins, we'll name the boy Alfred." He snorted. "Okay, wow, I really need a nap or something."

"Daddy-o!" a voice suddenly shouted, making Arnold jump and hit his head against the roof of the payphone. He groaned, rubbing his head as he stumbled out, his hand gripping the door. "Zack…" he said, a bit surprised as he opened his eyes to find him walking towards him with Rhonda and Curly's son, Rueben, along with a small group of kids trailing behind them. He'd very seldom seen Zack today since he'd apparently forgone lunch with him again to eat in the cafeteria and had all but disappeared during recess. This had been going on for months now and Arnold had taken it as a sign of him making friends, but he hadn't actually seen him with any of them until now.

Zack was walking with an almost cocky grin coloring his face, and he stopped in front of his dad to gesture to his new friends, though they really looked more like a fanclub to Arnold with how they were all smiling and giggling. "You know Rueben."

Rueben raised his eyebrows high up, smiling. "Always a pleasure, Mr. Shortman."

Arnold nodded his head very slowly, eyeing Rueben strangely. Out of all the kids for his mischievous son to befriend, he'd never expected one to be Rueben. It wasn't that he was a bad kid, but Rhonda and Curly (or Thaddeus, as Rhonda'd taken to calling him) had come over to visit many times, and vice versa, and Rueben had never taken an interest in Zack before, nor had Zack seemed to care for him. Zack had even told him once over dinner that he thought he was stuck up, but now he looked happy, sunshiny, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Zack turned his head slightly, raising half his brow at all the kids that had followed after them, and shrugged with a chuckle and threw his thumb back at them. "And of course you know the rest of these guys. They were in your class once upon a time."

Arnold smiled tentatively, waving at them. He remembered. That had been a particularly tiresome year, they were an especially troublesome bunch as second graders. "Hey, kids…"

"Hi, Mr. Shortman," they all echoed each other, their greetings stumbling over each other's and smiling politely at him. After a few seconds, they started to look a bit awkward at being around their old teacher and they started to disperse. Rueben stayed rooted to his spot, though, a smile relaxing on his face. Arnold blinked at him, before turning his eyes on his son.

Zack chuckled at his dumbfounded look and put his hand on Rueben's shoulder. "Rueben invited me over to his house this Saturday. We just wanted to know if that was cool?"

Arnold blinked, straightening up a little as he scratched his head. "Well, of course, Zack…" A quick chuckle burst from him suddenly, and he smiled with an amused gleam in his eye. "I'm glad to see you're doing, um, better…"

Zack nodded enthusiastically, holding his cast up to show him all the signatures he had on it. There was a sea of them on the cast, jumbled and scribbled over each other in different colors and styles, as if every kid in the school had signed. It only made Arnold's smile grow more as Zack told him, "I had a great day!"

Arnold patted him on the head, smoothing out his hair with his fingers affectionately with a warm chuckle. "I'm happy to hear it, Zack."

Rueben opened his mouth to say something, a finger already in the air when there was a sudden excited yell from behind him and he cringed as his twin sister jumped onto his back. He didn't budge as she wrapped her legs and arms around him, her glasses nearly falling off along with his own as she rubbed her face against his. "Rueben, the limo's here!"

With his glasses hanging off the end of his nose and the side of his hair becoming tangled from her face, his voice was quiet and agonized, "Ugh… why…" He shook slightly under her weight, but she didn't seem to mind this and she hugged him tighter. He took matters into his own hands then and pried her arms from around him, pushing her off. He spoke as he dusted himself off, "All right, Riley, calm down." He turned his eyes on Zack then and a deemed him worthy of a smile and wave as he headed off with his sister. "I'll see you at the party on Saturday! Bye, Mr. Shortman!"

"Ciao, Shortmans!" Riley waved to them before they disappeared around the corner.

Arnold blinked after them, his hand freezing mid-wave as they disappeared. A bit flustered, he yelled quick while there was still a chance they could hear, "Bye, kids! Tell your parents I said hell—Oh!" An exclamation popped from Arnold's lips as Zack unexpectedly flew forward and wrapped his arm around his middle in a hug, his bad arm awkwardly coming up to his side as he all but clung to his father. Arnold stared down at him, surprised.

As if he could feel his eyes on him, Zack held onto him tighter, squeezing his eyes shut. "Love you, Dad. You're the best dad ever."

Arnold's breath left him in a rush, but Zack's hug unfortunately only lasted a second more before he was pulling back, looking perfectly normal, as if he hadn't just done something extraordinary and made Arnold's entire week. Smiling, Zack swept his hand across his forehead to clear his hair away and gestured towards the playground. "Is Josh ready to go?"

Arnold had no idea how he managed to speak, but he did, his voice sounding far away, "Yeah… Zack, could you go get him, and I'll start the car and meet you there?"

Zack saluted him, snapping his feet together. "Aye aye, Captain."

As Zack practically pranced away, Arnold stood there erect for a couple more seconds, before he slammed his back into the phone booth and grinned. All those years feeling alone and by himself and now he had three loaves rising and a fresh bun in the oven. He was even happy enough to use a weird metaphor. Helga's books had been rubbing off on him apparently. He sighed.

He'd been worried about Zack already, then he hurt himself and they found out Helga was pregnant—it had been taking everything out of him not to have some kind of breakdown. But Zack had heeded his advice, clearly, and that was one less thing to worry about. Zack could handle himself, he'd just proven that he could, and Arnold wondered why he was surprised. He was his son, after all.

His eyes glassily stared at the sidewalk like it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever beheld, before they bolted huge and he gasped. "The car! Right, the car!" His feet threw themselves in front of each other in a race as he ran for the parking lot, before he tripped on a pebble and slammed down on the sidewalk.

Being used to falling, Arnold's only reaction was to sigh, resting his head in his hand as his other one's fingers tapped against the sidewalk. "Sometimes," he mused wryly, "I think I'm the one who should have been going to see Dr. Bliss all those years."

The rest of the day went by in a blissful haze to Zack. He could feel the appraising stares of his brothers as they drove home, his father eyeing him more curiously than usual, but Zack held no qualms about this. He'd never been one to shy away from the spotlight, he just didn't actively seek it. Now that he was in it, though, he could feel himself growing attached. He'd never known how nice it was to have people actually want to talk to you. He'd grown so desperate for human kindness lately that having so many smiles directed at him now made him want to skip. Yet his family knew better, they knew there was something different about him, and he wasn't about to correct them on it. When Phil sidled in next to him after school, already latching himself firmly on Josh's arm and raising an eyebrow in his direction, he grinned brightly at him. For a toddler, Phil was rather intuitive for his age, and he could practically smell the sudden assurance about him like an overly pungent perfume that had been dumped over his head.

When they arrived home and his mother came shortly after, she continued her reign of torture upon his poor, young soul. Soup had been forced down his throat and a thermometer poked in his ear. For all of her charms, his mother was not a doctor, and he found himself having to bite back correcting her on the fact that a broken arm wasn't anything like a cold. His father saved him the trouble, and thankfully the horror of having another thermometer poked somewhere entirely unpleasant, and he was able to breathe easy for the rest of the day. Dinner earned him a lot of probing questions but, as usual, he revealed nothing but what one might expect of a nine-year-old's day at school. Although this time there was a newfound certainty in his words, an aura about him that provoked nothing but confidence and the easing of shoulders. His mother seemed pleasantly surprised at the change, as if she'd noticed the difference as well, and her shared look with Arnold confirmed this enough that Zack had to bite down a chuckle. It was as if a gust of fresh air had flown through the room, and both Arnold and Helga were more than happy to sit back and bask in it.

Zack took note of this, realizing with some guilt that it was really true. They had noticed he'd been different, and they had been worried—they had just been hiding it from him, just as he'd been hiding himself from them. The relief that flooded him was spellbinding, and even his mom sending him to bed early with instructions to pay close mind to his injury couldn't tear the smile from his face. At the end of her lecture, he threw himself at her in a hug, letting all of his love pour out of him and into her for caring. He had no doubts now that if he shared with them all that August had done, they'd be furious. He wasn't about to throw a burden like that on top of them, though. He would be okay—he would make sure of it. He would grin every day for the rest of his life if it meant they could sleep easier for it, and give them a hundred more hugs.

At her gasp of surprise, he adjusted his head so his ear went over her stomach, half wondering how long it would be before he could hear the tiny presence inside. He couldn't help but ask, his curiosity getting the best of him, "Do you know what you're going to name him?"

Helga was still staring down at him, blinking her eyes as if she could hardly believe he was there. After a moment, a smile softly graced her face and she chuckled, bringing her arms around him as she hugged him back, kneeling halfway to the floor. "I don't know, Zacky, what would you have me call him," she scrunched up her nose, finding it a bit funny how he instantly assumed it'd be a boy, "or her?"

Zack's eyes flew up to hers, startled, before a grin stretched over his face. It reminded her of Arnold's crazy, ear-to-ear one he did from time to time, and she had to hold back a snort at the thought as he asked, comically, "A girl?"

Helga quirked an eyebrow, smirking mildly in amusement. "Well, sure, why the heck not?"

Zack's grin only widened at the idea, and Helga wondered if it was because he thought it was unheard of or pleasant. In the end, though, he just chuckled and shrugged. "I think his or her last name should be Shortman, that way we'll be a matching set."

Helga almost looked at him as if he were crazy, but the grin still undimmed on his face made her realize he had said it on purpose. The little twerp really was in a good mood tonight. She wondered what could have brought all this on, but Helga had long learned to never look a gift horse in the mouth, only to take what was so generously given, run like hell, and thank the mother the universe had chosen to smile on her. It's what she'd done when Arnold confessed the first time, the second time, proposed, and it was going to be what she did with his spawn too, damn it all—he crafted magical things, that angel, and she was just lucky enough to be the one for him to grace it with. Even after eleven years of marriage, she believed that wholeheartedly. So as her son grinned at her after months of acting aloof and strange, as if he'd never been happier or in better health in his entire life, Helga just grinned slyly back and ruffled up his hair. "I'll be sure to keep that suggestion in mind. Now enough of this stalling, get up to bed."

Zack's grin was almost dreamy in like, and he took a step back as she stood before beginning up the stairs to his room, before he seemed to pause. A second later he turned around with cobalt eyes wide and shining in the light filtering out from the other room, and he flew forward to envelop her in one last hug before he flung himself back and went racing up the stairs, waving at her with a grin. "Night, Mom! Love you!"

As the sound of his door slammed shut, Helga was left standing in the lazy darkness of the hallway, stock-straight and dumbfounded. That was her son, after all. Her son she'd had with Arnold, Arnold Shortman, who'd just hugged her and mischievously fled from sight, who had been in a cheery mood all evening for the first time in what seemed like years to her, who had just hugged her, Helga Pataki—now Shortman, and was now in bed, sleeping in the house she shared, with Arnold Shortman, the man who had impregnated her again with his seed, and she was going to give birth to. She'd just had a horrible day yesterday, and a horrible day this morning, and now suddenly the entire world looked like sunshine and rainbows.

Helga suddenly burst into tears, desperately trying to mop up her tears with the back of her hands before anyone saw. "Oh, criminy, maybe I am having mood swings already, damn it… I'm going to kill someone for this…"

At hearing these words, Arnold instantly thought better of his plan to grab her into a surprise hug and instead flew in the direction of the kitchen to make her some hot chocolate. At her fresh burst of wails, he decided he'd better make it a double. With plenty of whipped cream. Her sobs grew louder, and she suddenly cried out, "I'll use their eye balls for racquetball!"

Okay, you know what? He'd just bring the entire can.

Despite his best efforts, Zack couldn't shake the anxiousness from his stomach as his father dropped them off at the school the next morning. His legs felt like jelly and the confidence he'd managed to wear like an invisible cloak the day before was falling off piece by piece as he wandered through the quiet halls, his steps echoing like an ominous beat that drummed his soon demise. He wondered if he could even help it, if he'd ever be able to shake it—every morning he'd had this feeling, and it wasn't as easily stomped down on as he'd originally thought.

There were no kids around now. No witnesses. No way for him to wield any power should he choose to strike. It would be in cold blood. Wasn't that what August said? That he would be alone with no one around and he'd realize he was right? He had made it sound like something that would happen far off in the future, but what if it had all been a cleverly disguised threat to throw him off? He could feel himself twitching, chilled to the bone and expecting him to come flying out at any moment to crush him into a fine dust and blow him into the breeze. He fancied himself the type to make a rather nice sandbox. It wasn't exactly the most glamorous thing he'd had in mind for his life but if permitted even that small choice, he would be grateful and say he'd lived a good life. The life of someone who'd died with, at the very least, his dignity intact. If nothing else, he wanted to keep his pride. He'd never realized but he really treasured having that. It was like the last scrap of power he had left after he'd woken up, feeling alone for a split second before his brother started screaming in the other room and he remembered he lived with a bunch of nutjobs. Never had that realization felt so reassuring.

But now he was alone, wandering through the familiar halls of P.S. 118 and wondering what kind of death was awaiting him at every turn.

None came, though, and soon he was at the door of Mrs. Holt's fourth grade classroom. He stared down at the doorknob, sucking in a breath. His eyes flew from left to right, and he spun around when he saw a flash of something.

It was nothing, but Zack's shoulders didn't budge. His eyes slowly roved over his surroundings, unmoving as he made sure he was truly alone.

The halls were almost too silent, Zack would wager. Every second passed by like a snail through jello, and Zack wasn't about to risk overlooking anything. Not even nothing. Nothing was going to get just as much attention as something. Better safe than dead.

There was a click from behind him then and he jerked around just in time for someone to crash into him and send him flying to the ground. With a loud, "Oof," Zack fell onto his bottom, and his eyes snapped open in their shock to see Mrs. Holt staring down at him in horror. It took a moment but soon she managed to snap out of it and she knelt down quickly to grab his good hand, pulling him up without his permission and dusting him off as she fretted, "Oh, Zachary, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there. Are you okay? I didn't break anything else? Nothing hurts?"

Zack was blinking rapidly at all this, startled and without anything to say as she swept her hands over his shoulders to clean him off. He waved his hand at her absently, still in a bit of a daze, and tried to put a stop to her trying to polish him off like a trophy, "Mrs. Holt, I'm fine…" He held in a deep sigh at all this, always finding himself irritated when his teacher fussed over him like this. He was still wary, though, and the presence of an adult figure wasn't exactly unwelcome, so he allowed it.

Mrs. Holt was unaware of his fears, though, and she quickly withdrew her hands from him and apologized again, stuttering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"I'm fine!" Zack burst, in no mood for this. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he patted her on the arm and looked around cautiously, licking his lips before he brought his blue eyes back up to Mrs. Holt and lowered his voice, "Um, actually, you haven't seen…" he held his breath a second, finding it difficult to even say his name for fear he would appear, "Mr. Bailey…" he settled, his eyes masked with casualness, "have you?"

Mrs. Holt blinked a couple times, before her eyebrows furrowed. "August?" Her eyes smiled then, clearly not catching Zack's wince. "Oh, he transferred out yesterday. Packed his things and left."

Zack's jaw hit the floor. "He what?"

Mrs. Holt frowned, fearful she may have displeased her best student. "Yes, he said he didn't think he was reaching his full potential here. With good reason, I believe, the fourth grade is no place for a fourteen-year-old."

Zack's jaw completely dropped down off of his skull and clattered to the ground.

Mrs. Holt twitched, looking awkward and worried. "I'm sorry, were you friends with him? I could get you his number—"

"No," Zack mumbled, his hazy eyes looking anywhere but at her. "He's… gone?" he muttered it like he was speaking of the Holy Grail. It was too good to be true. It didn't seem like a logical possibility. Was it possible he really had died, or gotten knocked out or was in a coma, and this was all just some kind of elaborate dream? Considering some of the things his imagination had come up with before, it was possible. "That's crazy…" He blinked a couple times, trying to make sense of reality.

Mrs. Holt blinked, her eyebrows still furrowed and giving him an odd look. She tried smiling, her false cheeriness never failing. "It was unexpected. He was actually a very good student, he was doing well in everything but English and spelling, but I guess he agree. He didn't say where he was transferring, just that his chapter here was done. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Oh, well…" Zack struggled with a shaky smile, swaying on his feet, "that's… good. That's… very, very good." He cackled, before his eyes rolled up and he fainted away to the floor.

Mrs. Holt's eyes flew open huge. "Zack!"

The rest of the day flew by like a dream. After a rather strange experience in the nurse's office where he literally couldn't stop laughing and teachers kept poking their heads in to stare at the "crazy boy," kids hoarded him in congratulation and awe, yelling his praise for scaring off the school's most feared and reviled bully. By this point, Zack was so relieved he couldn't think straight. He kept finding himself doodling odd shapes and giggling in between math equations. His teacher sent him regular wary expressions throughout the day, afraid that she may have broken him somehow. But for once, Zack appreciated the concern, 'cause he was happy to the point he almost felt ill.

Soon the bell was ringing and Zack flew through the halls in a run, racing for the front door of the school so he could get out once and for all—or at least until Monday anyway. A weekend was just what his nerves needed, and as he went screeching around the corner he only just caught sight of his father's wide, surprised green eyes before he crashed into his legs.

Being a grown man, Arnold barely moved, just stumbled back slightly as he grabbed Zack's shoulders to steady him. Chuckling, Arnold asked warmly, "Heading somewhere, Zack?"

"Slausens," he answered unperturbed, shaking his head of it's ache to make room for the grin on his face. "It's Friday. Candy's always on sale on Fridays."

Arnold raised an eyebrow, taking his hands back as he cautioned, "You know there's going to be a crowd."

Zack smirked. "Not if I get there first."

Arnold chuckled at that, patting his shoulder. "All right, Zack. I'll meet you there after I pick up Josh and Phil, huh? I still need to call your mom." He smiled, giving show to a few teeth. "Get some gumdrops before they're all gone." Arnold dug into his pocket then and pulled out a five-dollar bill, folded it absentmindedly in half and held it out to his son.

Zack grinned and eagerly grabbed at the money, crumpling it up in his hand at his side. "Okay, Dad. Count on it." He broke into a run down the hall once more, waving at him as he looked over his shoulder. "I'll see you there!"

Arnold waved back, smiling as his son disappeared from sight. "Ah, to be young and in a hurry." He chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he began around the corner.

Zack zig-zagged through a few idle students chatting in the halls before he burst out through the front doors of the school and took in a deep breath, enjoying the warmth of day. Uncrumpling the dead man's face, he folded it up a couple times before tucking it away in his sneaker. Adjusting his shoe back right over his foot, he began casually enough down the sidewalk, deciding to save his energy for after he rounded the corner and the store was in sight.

Confidence was an interesting thing to have. As he passed by the old stores and caught people staring, he only stood taller, slowing his steps so they could get a good, long look, his lips twisting up. To think there was ever a time when he hadn't cared how people perceived him. Positive attention was a beautiful thing. And who knew it was that easy to gain? When you were happy, it was contagious, he found, as all the passing grown ups seemed to light up at the sight of him. In some ways he supposed he was lucky to go to a school in such a nice neighborhood, but it made him wonder if people would be so willing to humor his joy downtown, which really wasn't that far from here, as the occasional sleazy, skuzzy-bearded drifter could attest to. He rather doubted it. Which was why he was lucky he didn't live down here. All that sneering and scowling on a regular basis every time he wanted a corndog would stink.

It was all August's fault really—he was the reason he was so happy now. If he'd never been bullied, he'd never have been able to stand up to him, and he'd never have cared what people thought and probably been a quiet loner for the rest of his life, hiding away in the library and eating all his meals with his parents. He'd never have known how good it felt to have friends.

The strange thing was that if he could turn back the clock and change everything, he wasn't sure if he would. He guessed that was mainly because it was all over now. If he'd been asked the same question a couple days ago he'd have fallen to his knees at the opportunity. But now that he could see the light at the end of the tunnel, he was almost happy it had happened. The darkest part of his life was over now, thanks to a broken arm, a baby, and a random musical number. Not too shabby a trigger for a life-changing epiphany, if he did say so himself.

If there was ever a revenge this sweet before, Zack didn't know what it was. August's main goal had been to crush his spirit, and all he'd done was make it stronger.

These thoughts swam through Zack's mind as he entered Slausen's. The place sold all kinds of sweets, from ice cream to candy to random dessert dishes they'd adapted. There was even a display for stickers that attracted attention by the window, all glossy and pristine and shining in the light of the window. His family favored the place, for it's retro style, low prices, and vast assortment of diabetes-inducing treats. The memory of his dad telling him this place used to only sell ice cream when he was a kid drifted through a deeper part of his mind as he absentmindedly scooped up some gumdrops and tied them off in a bag, along with a couple of his favorite candy bars and anything sweet and gooey for his brothers, along with a couple lollypops. Anything green would work really. Phil was an obsessed child.

Paying for it all didn't take but a minute, and soon he was standing outside the door munching on a Mr. Fudgie candy bar, watching smugly as a sea's worth of kids started flooding in through the door. Sometimes being the fastest runner on his baseball team came in real handy.

He stopped at the thought. Billy Booger Boy Green had broken his leg just last month playing, and Kassidy Horowitz broke her… everything, just last week. Blinking, Zack glanced down at his cast, thinking back to the hospital and the tears and vomiting that had ensued. His face hardened. No more baseball.

He frowned at the thought, and wrapped his bar back up. He wasn't so in the mood for candy anymore.

A short girl with a red beanie pulled over her head went running up to the store then, breathing hard as she screeched to a stop at the window on the other side of the building from him. Zack stared at her, seeing her fingers curl up against the glass as she saw that the place was packed now, most of the candy dishes already empty. He only just caught the glint of moisture in her eye.

Without thinking, he reached inside of his bag and pulled out the lollypops he'd stuck in there just for the sake of having them. Nobody really liked them anyway, and as he stared at them he caught her eyeing them longingly in his hand out of the corner of his eye. Smirking, he tossed them over at her. Her eyes widened but in that split second, she grabbed them quick and fumbled, her cheeks turning pink. Zack just snorted a slight laugh, smirking. "All yours." She didn't say anything back, just nodded her head in acceptance, abashed.

His dad had said to wait here for him, but he didn't want to just stand there. They were going to be coming up the same way anyway, so if he walked back towards the school, he could probably catch their car. Sticking the couple dollars of change into his sock, he waved goodbye to the shy girl and began off towards the school, feeling good about himself as the store music's "The Simple Things" dwindled and faded behind him.

His walk was a peaceful one filled with the sound of his whistling, and he was just rounding the corner, catching sight of the school, when he suddenly felt a pull backwards and he was blinded by darkness.

"You didn't think I'd just leave without saying goodbye, did ya, Short Man?" August's teeth and eyes glowed in the shadows of the alley, and Zack heard the sound of a pen clicking just as it descended on him.

"I'm going to kill him," Arnold grumbled lowly, scowling as he circled back around for the third time in the car, his hands nearly white on the wheel. "I'm going to string him up by his shoelaces in his room and never let him down again. I'll keep him on a leash and hook it to my belt so he can't wander off. Put a chip in his brain that screams every time he gets within five feet away from me. I'll… I'll…" His eye twitched.

Phil giggled in the back seat, nudging Josh. "Daddy sounds like Mommy."

"Never listens," Arnold continued lowly, his green eyes sharp as they looked up and down the sidewalk. "Doesn't hear a word I say. I'm about five minutes away from calling the police."

"Wait, Dad," Josh pointed out the window, pressing his nose up against the glass, "there he is!"

Arnold stomped down on the break and clicked the car off with startling speed. In a second he was out of the car and marching purposefully towards where Zack was standing on the side of the road. He yelled, "Zachary Shortman!"

Zack snapped his head up like he'd just been struck, and his eyes widened as his dad came into view, his eyes on fire. "Dad?" his voice sounded far away.

Arnold stopped in front of him, his fists clenched and shoulders tense as he stared lividly down at his first born. Zack stared up at him, meeting his green eyes with his blue.

A couple tense seconds passed between the two, before Arnold threw his arms around Zack and lifted him up off the ground, squeezing him tight. "Ugh…" he buried his head in his hair, clenching his teeth as he took in a harsh breath, "don't you ever disappear like that again. Or so help me, if your mother tries to kill you, I just might help."

Zack winced, glad his dad couldn't see, and brought his good arm around his dad tight. "Sorry, Dad. I…" a range of lies flew through his head, when a gust of wind pushed his hair back, and he said, "the wind blew the money out of my hand and I had to go running after it, but I lost it so I came back around, but you weren't there, so I just…" The lie faded off as he ran out of ideas.

His dad huffed once more and set him back down on the ground, reaching into his pocket to pull out another bill and wave it in front of his face. "Zack, we're not rich by any means, but the next time that happens, don't go after it. Candy's not that important." He wrapped the bill up and grabbed Zack's hand, pulling him over towards the car with the pairs of green and blue eyes squished up against the window. "We'll manage." Opening up the car door for him, he let go of his hand and grabbed hold of his arms, squeezing them protectively with worried eyes. "But I can't manage you being lost."

It took all of his will's strength not to wince at his dad squeezing his arms. Grinning nervously, Zack nodded rapidly. "Right, right, Dad. I'm sorry. It was all just a big misunderstanding." He wiggled a little to try to hint that he wanted to be let go, but his dad was still staring at him with those stricken eyes. Taking a deep breath, Zack tried to pour as much sincerity as he could into his grin and shrugged. "Really. No need to have a cow. Or the whole barn, or whatever it is what you're doing is called. Okay?"

It took him a second, but he nodded, albeit smally, but it was there. As soon as his hands dropped from his shoulders, Zack jumped into the car, pushing Josh and Phil over to the other side and shot his dad one last grin before shutting the door. His dad lingered outside and took his time getting back into the driver's seat, but soon enough he was turning the key.

As the car started up again, Josh's eyes zeroed in on his cast and widened with seven-year-old curiosity. He pointed to a particularly large one in red, his finger just an inch from touching. "Hey, new signature?"

Zack didn't look down. "Yep."

Josh smiled sweetly at his big brother, trying to make light of things as he read the name, "Aug…ust… August?" He looked back up at Zack in surprise, his mouth falling open. "That was the big red-headed kid right?"

"Whoa!" Phil suddenly yelled enthusiastically with a light in his eyes that danced, poking his finger on the window on the other side of the seat. "That fat kid has a gajillion gumdrops in his mouth!"

"We don't use words like fat, Phil," Arnold muttered mechanically, staring hollowly at the road in front of him.

Josh looked between his dad and Zack, a bit troubled, before he coughed and smiled brightly at Zack, his blue eyes alight. "Zack?"

Zack shook himself out of whatever stupor he'd been thrown into at Phil's exclamation and brought his eyes down to meet Josh's. Blinking, he tentatively nodded his head in affirmation. "Yeah, that's him."

Josh's smile widened. "So you're friends with him now?"

Zack stared at him, before he turned his head back out the window, his good hand coming up to pull his sleeves down lower over his arms. "No. No, he's gone, Josh. He's not friends with anyone." His eyes darkened as he stared out the window, and he muttered lowly, "He's just a useless ginger."

Josh blinked at him, puzzled. "Gingerbread is useless? But it's edible."

"Hey, I like gingerbread," Phil proclaimed angrily, no appreciating their conversation. "Don't talk about cookies like that! Cookies are nice. Now raspberries…" he threw himself back in the seat, pouting with eyes resolute, "raspberries stink."

Josh frowned at him. "Raspberries are awesome. You're just saying that 'cause Grandpa told it to you."

This statement of course sent Phil off into a rant that fueled an argument between the two children, and Zack was all too happy for the change in topic. For the most part.

He kept his trap shut for the rest of the ride.

After passing by Slausens and confirming there was indeed no candy left, Arnold guiltily bought them ice cream instead, all the while keeping a firm hand on Zack's shoulder. He hid his grimace.

As a result, the car ride home was spent licking their spoons and trying to clean Phil's face only to have his lemon bar smeared across theirs. Josh bore the worst of the brunt since he was sitting beside him but all he did was laugh, and Arnold and Zack couldn't help smiling, albeit tiredly. It was on the way home that Zack found out from his dad that his mother had been anxious about a few business ventures and couldn't resist stopping by the Beeper Emporium just to make sure things were still running smoothly. Arnold was out of sorts for it, and it made Zack want to strangle August for making his dad worry anymore than he needed to. He'd never wanted to hurt anything so bad before—heck, he'd never wanted to hurt anything before, not once. He had been happy that August was gone, but now it felt like a curse. He'd never get to scream at him like he wanted or tear him limb from limb. He'd never get the chance to rip that hideous red hair from his head or give him a cast for once.

He felt trapped and he couldn't talk to anyone about it. He wanted to, but he couldn't. He didn't break into a sweat on the ride home or do anything suspicious enough to make anyone ask if he was okay. He wanted desperately for his dad to notice or one of his brothers or anyone. For once, he wished he wasn't good at hiding things. He wished he wasn't good at lying. He wished someone would break him out of his nobility and demand to know what was wrong. But in the end, it was his burden, he was good at those, and there was no way he could throw any of this at his dad when he was already pulling at his hair and biting his nails over his mom. He vowed never to see that panicky, tearful face on either of his parents again for as long as he lived. And he was already beginning to hate it, but it was what he had to do, and he was going to do it.

Minutes after arriving home, the door to his room flew shut before he practically threw himself into his bed. His face hit the pillow with a hard plop and he exhaled into it, groaning a little as he'd forgotten his arm and uncomfortably moved it out of the way. Ignoring the pain best he could, he relaxed all his muscles and held his breath for a while, cutting off the oxygen to his brain and giving him a pleasantly dull feeling.

Soon it became too much, though, and he lifted his head to breathe, blinking his eyes open to his room. Inevitably, he brought a hand up to his shoulder and rubbed it a little, feeling the soreness there. He clenched his teeth, jumping off of his bed to rip open the door to his closet, where a mirror hung inside. It used to be on the outside of his door, but after August came along, he'd hung it up inside instead so he didn't have to look at himself. Now that thought made him clench his fists. Angrily, he grabbed the mirror off the door and kicked it shut, before throwing the shirt his dad had hung up there at some point to place his mirror back over the hook.

Amidst straightening it over the door, his eyes caught his own in his reflection and he stopped cold.

His eyes weren't blank pits anymore. Now his pupils were inflamed, his eyes black as death itself, hair crazy and unibrow narrowed dangerously. He looked like… like…

In an instant he was repelling away from the mirror in horror, watching as it fell off the hook and bounced off his carpet onto the floor.

His fractured arm trembled. With a staggered breath, he hesitantly reached down to pick the mirror back off of the floor, relieved to find it wasn't broken. Did this mean he had seven years good luck? A trembly smile stole his face at the thought, and he reached up to put the mirror back over the hook again, gentler this time, more precise. Things worked better with a cool head, he reminded himself. He wasn't like him.

With the mirror in place, his arms fell to his sides and he looked at himself. Really looked at himself, from his lightly tanned skin to his darkened eyes to his bright blond hair. No, he wasn't an angry person. He wasn't the type to scowl or shout. That wasn't him. It never had been before, and he certainly wasn't about to let August's influence make him bitter enough to become like that. He took a deep breath.

Despite his efforts to calm down, his arm still shook, and he slapped a quick hand over it without thinking. Instantly he cringed, air hissing through his teeth from the thoughtless impact. Shooting a look over to his door to make sure it was locked, he looked back at himself and tentatively lifted the sleeve of his shirt up.

Permanent ink, red and striking against his skin zigzagged across the top of his arms and over his shoulder. Scribbled marks and hateful words, all emphasized by the sore pinkness surrounding them from the point being sharp. It would take weeks to fade, maybe months.

Words like 'worthless' and 'girly' and 'puny' lined his arms and made him tremble with deep-seeded resentment. He wasn't any of those things. He never had been, not once in his life. He was all alone with no one around, and in that moment, he realized that August was wrong, about everything. The rage from before began seeping back into him, it showed plainly on his face and he let it consume him this time, if only for a moment. He'd been wronged and he had a right to be angry. He wasn't August, he was a fighter, a rebel. He'd stood up to him. Back in the alley, he'd just been too surprised to do anything. It didn't change a thing. Nothing about the last few months of torture changed anything about who he was. Being weak wasn't right, it wasn't what felt right running through his veins. It felt sickening, like he was betraying his parents and his own existence as a Shortman. What was the point of living if he wasn't alive? If all he did was allow himself to get thrown and beaten like a pound of brainless meat?

When he'd been laying behind that dumpster back at the school, right before everything changed, that was when it all culminated inside of himself. All the loathing and confusion and pain had exploded in his mind and suddenly, he couldn't do it anymore. Standing up to August had been almost like an out of body experience, amazing, inwardly chaotic and without control. It was like he wasn't himself anymore, but he was. He was someone better, stronger, someone utterly fearless and brave. That had felt right. That's what had felt real.

Being in control felt good. Having attention felt good. Being in the spotlight felt incredible. August thought he was worthless but somehow, proving just how wrong he was was almost intoxicating with it's empowerment. If people wanted a hero, they'd get one. They did get one. From here on out, he wouldn't back down. He wouldn't just sit around and wait for things to get better. He would make them better. Yesterday had proved he had an inner strength buried inside himself, something he'd always suspected but never acted on. His parents were both incredibly strong people, his grandparents were adventurers who'd faced countless perils, his great-grandpa had been in the war and his great-grandma was always coming to the rescue in times of crisis. He came from a long line of strong people, and he'd always known it, but somehow, at times, he'd felt like maybe it had just skipped over him.

Clearly it did not.

Short man indeed. He stood up taller, puffing out his chest. It came more naturally this time and a smirk breezed across his lips. It was a good look on him, he decided. Somehow his face seemed almost born to wear a smirk. He'd always been a bit smirky but he'd never really looked at himself with it before, never really thought about it. He wondered how he never noticed how much it suited him.

Seeing how his hair was falling over his unibrow, hiding it very deliberately from view, Zack threw his head back and watched it fly the other direction, leaving his eyebrow bare to the world. He stared at it.

He didn't understand why August laughed at him for it. Unibrows weren't uncommon on boys or, heck, even girls. Yet suddenly just because it was him it became weird? Zack humphed. Those girls from before didn't seem at all put off by it. If anything, they thought it was attractive. He squared his shoulders and eyed himself in scrutiny, sizing himself up. He was starting to look better and better to himself, not just in appearance but in personality. Because, dang, it was beginning to become almost comical just how off the mark August had been. And he'd believed him. Ridiculous. It was so easily misconstrued that he was worthless when he never interacted with anyone or really did anything but read and daydream. He'd gotten sloppy, he realized. He'd been so content with his homelife that he'd neglected his social one, and look where he'd ended up. Zack frowned, before a smile lit up on his face. From here on out, he'd just have to make it abundantly obvious how worthy he was of friendship and approval. He would leave no room for mistake. He was Zack Shortman, after all, son of Arnold and Helga Shortman, and he was freaking incredible. His class was easily turned to his favor. All he'd had to do was take five minutes out of his schedule to stand up to an oaf and suddenly he was Mr. Popular. It was so simple.

If he was going to continue on this road, though, the first place to start with his new outlook would be his clothes.

There wasn't anything glaringly bad about them, but there seemed to be something missing. They were so plain. He looked too average. It was no wonder no one had ever tried to talk to him. He wouldn't have tried to talk to himself either. And not to mention, the sleeves of his blue shirt just barely covered the ink on his arms. It wouldn't do to have anyone notice that. A clothing change was definitely in order.

Looking around, his eyes caught sight of the shirt he'd thrown onto the floor. He bent over to pick it up and stared at it with slight bemusement. It was one of his dad's plaid shirts. Over the years it had become a joke between family friends to buy his dad those on the holidays when people didn't know what else to get him. As a result, he had shirts of all different colors and types that he never wore or liked, much preferring his own plain red and yellow striped ones. His mother got a kick out of hanging them up all over the house to bug him, and over time his father had taken to hiding them in his room in hopes she wouldn't find them. Zack usually didn't comment on it or pay it any mind. He was used to his parents doing weird things. This was the first time he'd ever really taken the time to really look at one of the shirts that had been plaguing his father.

This one actually wasn't so bad. Blue, probably why he hadn't really noticed it before—most things in his room were blue. Usually when he noticed a bright green or orange plaid shirt hanging strikingly against his decor somewhere or thrown hurriedly on the floor he'd just toss it in his closet. But this one had been hanging there for a while now.

It was really soft. A thick, simple black and dark blue pattern on a long-sleeved shirt. He slipped his arm through one sleeve and draped the other side over his shoulder, running the length of the sleeve over his cast to give a visage that he was fully wearing it. Looking back up at himself, he blinked in surprise, his eyes lighting up. "Hey, not half bad."

There was still something not quite right with it, though… Dark blue over dark blue just made him look like a stringy blueberry or something. Not that there was anything wrong with blueberries, never, but just because he liked them didn't mean he wanted to be them. Humming to himself in thought, he opened his closet door to root through his t-shirts. Blue, blue, more blue, light blue, dark blue, royal blue, aqua, azure, cobalt, periwinkle, indigo, sky, azule—criminy, he really needed to broaden his horizons a bit.

Heaving a sigh, he fell against the doorway and threw his eyes to the floor in defeat, only to have them widen when he noticed something dark hidden amongst a pile of horrific flannel. Reaching down, he realized it was a black shirt. Just black. No wonder it had gotten thrown on the floor.

Then again, black was cool wasn't it? Black was sleek, mysterious, and never went out of style—much like him, he thought. And the plaid was pretty much covering his blue obsession well enough… and it would match well with the black in the pattern. It was an idea.

He shed his shirts off in favor of his new find, and then plucked the plaid shirt back off the ground, leaving behind the old blue one as he walked out of his closet and looked at himself as he put the plaid shirt back on. With his clothes neat and falling comfortably over his body like his new best friends, he smiled. No, he smirked.

Smirked because he looked good. Smirked because August was wrong. Smirked because he just realized the red ink on his cast with August's signature perfectly matched the ink on his arms.

Zack's smirk was sinful, all twisting lips and shining teeth. "And bingo was his name-o." He cackled into the shadowy emptiness of his room, making his glass of water on his bedside table tremble.

Zack blinked, staring down into the face of the small, fire-headed girl, a girl with no hope of ever matching his height and glaring up at him like an angry kitten. He came back to himself at that moment, the image of August fading away to the back of his subconscious where it belonged. And once that happened, well, there was only one thing to do. He smirked. Smirked the kind of spine-chilling smirk that only Zachary Shortman could pull off.

Grabbing her wrist in his hand—so much larger than hers and easily wrapped around the delicate bones of her wrist—he pulled her finger away from him. He spoke with easy amusement, like she'd just yelled at him for getting the weather forecast wrong, "Whoa now, what have I said about getting too close to the merchandise? Calm down! You're talking to a teenage guy, I'm one of your kind, don't shout at me like I'm demonic." Releasing her wrist to shoot stiff to her side, he dusted himself off and grinned at her, before a swift hand shot out and grabbed the sucker right out of her mouth and popped it into his own. He crossed his arms. "Look, baby, doll-face, he-woman, there's a saying—you catch more devilishly handsome flies with honey than you do with vinegar. I gave you what you wanted—don't blame the salesman, blame the buyer." He adjusted the lollypop in his mouth and hummed, before raising half his eyebrow. "Cherry? Really? I'm more of a blueberry kind of guy." He popped it out of his mouth and offered it back to her.

But Pam looked like she was about to explode, her face bright red and mouth hanging wide open. She could barely think to speak. The nerve… The nerve… Her lips flapped, her voice echoing off the walls, "Where do you get off—"

He blinked, smirking again as he said sharply, "That's an inappropriate question." He stuck the lollypop back in his mouth, chuckling.

"Oh… ho, ho, ho," she waved her finger at him, grinning like the world just ended and it was all she could think to do, "you're even worse than I thought. To think the idea that you might be a deep, thoughtful guy under everything ever passed my mind. All you are is an egomaniacal idiot. There's really nothing more to it."

Zack stilled at that, those words echoing in his skull before rip-roaring laughter suddenly exploded out of his chest and he fell away to the floor. Tears came to his eyes and he slapped a hand to his head, barely able to contain himself. The lollypop still in his mouth fell back, and he nearly choked on it but managed at the last second to spit it out. He wheezed joyously, "Holy crap, I can't breathe!" He cackled, falling onto his side as he writhed on the floor. "A deep thoughtful guy! Deep!"

Pam's expression turned outraged at his reaction and she stood over him with her hands on her hips. "Shut up! You're an asshole, it's not funny, it's anticlimactic!" She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "So painfully anticlimactic… All of yesterday and today has just been a total disappointment. It was bad enough finding out the most popular guy in the class had written it, but it's even worse knowing my first reaction of you was dead on."

"Why would you have ever thought—" Zack laughed, tears coming to his eyes before he suddenly shot stalk-straight, demons suddenly roaring ferociously in his head. His mind caught up with exactly what she'd said and the entire universe burst into flames. "Wait a second…" he said very slowly, his eyes flying up to her face, "you said I was amazing at… that assignment… and it made you think I was deep… How could you…?" His lungs had run out of air, and all he could do now was squeak.

Suddenly Pam's defensive form went rigidly erect. It seemed like a lifetime to both of them before a high-pitched giggle suddenly broke the air and she began twirling a tendril of her hair around her finger. "Oh, that. Well, you see, uh…" her hair as tight around her finger as it could go, she panicked a little and forced her hair away, clasping her hands tightly in front of herself, "I just, was looking over your shoulder and I happened to see your grade. It's no big deal—"

Zack very slowly lifted himself up from the floor, his eyes not leaving her for a second. "I barely lifted it half an inch up, there's no way you could have seen," he disproved her immediately, stepping towards her with a sudden purpose. Suspicion oozed from him like a thick slime as he began taking measured steps towards her, matching her own as she retreated. "You call me a bad liar? That was pathetic. You're worse than my brother."

Grabbing her by the arm, he stopped her from backing from him and pulled her closer, glaring determinedly into her face. This girl already knew, someway, somehow, she knew, and she had just become the ultimate threat. And if there was one thing Zack hated most in the world, it was a security breech. "You think I didn't realize you never told me your last name before? I'm Zachary Shortman. Nice to meet you, now let me tell you a few need-to-know facts about myself, lest you make the mistake again—I hear all, I see all, and inevitably, I know all. So you like things to be straight forward, right? Then tell me now, in order, who are you, and how did you find out?" He gripped her arm, clenching his teeth.

Pam's face was white as ash, her pupils the size of ants as she stared into his hardened face. She practically squeaked her answer, "Schmidt."

Half of Zack's brow went up sharp enough to cut led. "Come now, you can do better than that. Be a little more creative."

She giggled a little, though this table switch didn't at all amuse her. "Morgernstern?" She shrugged her shoulders upwards, as if asking approval.

Zack cut his eyes in half. "Was that a question or a statement?"

Her mouth twitched. "Statement."

Zack pretended to mull this over, pupils wandering to the top corner of his eyes before he snapped them back to her and shook his head. "I'm going to go with no. Too elaborate." He pulled her in a little closer, grounding out, "Now tell me the truth…"

Pam growled back at him for sneering into her face like that, frustrated with how dramatically their positions had been switched, and shoved her nose to his in a death glare, contrary to how her voice shook, "Look, Monobrow, I don't have time for your games. My last name doesn't matter—"

"Pamella!" a voice suddenly yelled from down the hall as footsteps stampeded towards them, and she immediately shoved away from Zack to snap around in shock as Ms. Idleberry's furious face filled her eyes. As the graying woman stopped in front of her, she grabbed her by the elbow and yelled, "This is where you've been? You disappear at 6:30 in the morning to swap spit with some boy you barely know? How did you even get here? Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

Pam's mouth opened and closed several times before she managed to get any words out, "We weren't kissing!" Her face was twisted in revulsion just at the concept.

"I'd sooner French kiss a sweat sock," Zack muttered, unable to control his mouth.

Ms. Idleberry caught his incohenerent mutter and snapped her eyes angrily on him. Her ire immediately cooled a little at seeing him. "Oh, it's you, Zachary… Well," she brought her olive green eyes back to Pamella's, "your standards have certainly skyrocketed, I'll give you that. Won't your brother be proud." The last part left her sarcastically.

Pam's face went as red as her hair and she shuddered. "It wasn't like that, seriously. His dad just gave me a ride, that's all—"

"And you didn't tell me?" she raged, though her eyes were large and filled with concern. "Ella, I'm surprised at you. I know we're not as close as we used to be but I had hoped—"

"Mom," Pam interrupted her guiltily, gently taking her hand off of her arm. She gave it a couple comforting pats before she let it go and sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm still not used to getting up so early and I wasn't thinking. Plus, I mean, I thought it would be better considering—"

"I know," her mother grabbed her into a hug, before she pulled away enough to point a stern finger jokingly in her face to try to lighten things, hating having to scold her, "but you have to let me know about these things, Ella." Her face hardened. "Seriously."

Pam pursed her lips a little tightly. "It's Pam, Mom." Her face softened then, guilty once more. "But okay, it won't happen again. I promise."

"My little Ella," she said affectionately, before she patted her on the shoulder and adjusted her clothes to their once more pristine state, her face falling back to it's blank state. "All right, Pamella," she said authoritatively, "I expect I'll see you especially on time for class?"

Pam nodded begrudgingly, suddenly acutely aware of the blue eyes baring into her back. "Yes, Ms. Idleberry."

"Good girl." She began down the halls once more, casting a friendly look to Zack as she passed. "Zachary."

"Ms. Idleberry," Zack acknowledged as she went on her way, the picture of innocence, before she disappeared from sight and the nastiest smirk suddenly spread across his face. It gave Pam chills as he turned his smug eyes on her, drinking her in. "Oh, now isn't this delicious?" He took a small step towards her, smirking even more as she took a small step back. "Pamella Idleberry." He cackled. "How quaint!"

"Yeah, whatever, Shortman," Pam groaned, arms stiff at her sides and eyes unwilling to meet his own, "don't go there…"

"And why not?" Zack bubbled gleefully, practically bouncing on his feet. Karma his ass, he was invincible. "It completely makes sense now!" He twittered his fingers in her face, face ruefully delighted. "Ahhh, you nearly had me there, I didn't even realize. You were up way too early to be planning to go to school at the regular hours, and you didn't know when our lunch period was. You're new here!"

Pam threw her head back, groaning to the Heavens before she looked at him in despair. It was too late anyhow, so she explained, "I'm not good with schedules, but, just…" She sighed. "I used to live with my dad but he got remarried so my brother and I moved in with my mom, and I had to switch high schools. But she lived in a small apartment so on top of all that, we had to move to a new house." She rubbed her eyes with her palm, suddenly spent just at the memories. "And now this."

"Oh, criminy," Zack's pupils suddenly receded, sucking in a breath, "this means Ms. Idleberry is my new neighbor too." He slapped his forehead. Maybe karma was still on his tail after all. Now he'd have to deal with seeing her overly cheery, irritating face every day bothering him about how his 'art' was going.

"You can't tell anyone about this," Pam suddenly yelled with newfound panic, shattering his inner dreadings as she grabbed him by his arms. "I've been keeping it a secret and my mom's actually agreed to go along for once! I don't want anybody to look at me like some teacher's pet. It's hard enough going to a new school without everyone judging you right off the bat."

"But you're so good at barking—" Zack tried to quip, wiggling his arms to try to get free.

"Oh, shut up," Pam cried, in no mood. Letting go of him as if he'd suddenly caught flame, she looked him up and down and demanded, "Tell me you won't tell anyone."

"Oh-ho, only," he pointed a finger straight up in her face, his face dire, "if you keep your lip zipped about my… my…" geez, he couldn't even say it, "it," he settled ominously, trying to keep the grave seriousness on his face despite how ridiculous that sounded.

Pam raised an eyebrow. "It?" It took her a while to process it, but when it did she couldn't help smirking slightly. "Oh, you mean the fact that you're a regular William Shakespeare—"

Zack's entire body twisted in disturbing ways at the compliment and he moaned in torture, "How did you find out?"

Pam twirled the end of her ponytail and looked away with an amused smile. "Well, since you asked so nicely…" She giggled, her enjoyment in this situation irritatingly clear. "I helped my mom grade the poetry papers, and I just so happened to come across yours." Her eyes became more genuine. "It was amazing. You're very talented."

Zack groaned at the accursed words, running a rough hand through his hair so it stuck up even more dramatically. "I know. It's horrible."

"No it's not!" Pam defended him, slapping a hand on his shoulder without thinking. She ignored how it went stiff. "I love how you went for free-verse instead of just regular old rhyming. Nobody else did that. Or at least not well." She grimaced.

Zack sighed out in exasperation, his hair falling over his face as he looked up sadly, asking the universe Why. Why now, of all the times, did karma have to come after him now? He spoke the words like he was trying not to vomit, "But I was trying to make it not good."

Pam blinked at this, confused. "But it looked so professional—"

Zack shrugged her hand off his shoulder and crossed his arms, rolling his eyes to one side and refusing to look at her. "I ditched the rhyme scheme on purpose because I was hoping Ms. Idleberry would be dim enough to mark me down if she didn't understand it. I guess my low opinion of her was a bit too below the bar."

Pam's eyes flashed and her voice suddenly went up an octave, "Hey, that's my mom you're talking about, and I'm the one who graded it!"

His eyes snapped to her at that, a tad startled a moment before he smirked. "Oh no, it's okay, I don't hold a high opinion of you either. I would have assumed the plan would have worked either way, so it doesn't really change anything." He raised half his eyebrow at her. "You know, now that I think about it, I can't believe I didn't assume you were Ms. Idleberry's spawn sooner."

Pam growled and pushed him. "Stop being such an ass!"

Zack stumbled only a little, before an amused grin came to his face and he stepped closer still to her. "Ah, come on, but it's my specialty. It's like if I suddenly yelled at you to stop being slow."

Pam looked flabbergasted. "What?"

Zack grinned with sparkly eyes, absolutely amused. "Exactly. That right there."

Pam sputtered a few moments before she smacked her mouth shut, a vein throbbing in her neck. She put her hands to her mouth, looking wretched. "Oh, God, your poor parents. I can't even spend more than a day with you without wanting to explode. They must be gods or something."

Zack chuckled, flipping his hair out of his face with a grin. "That's adorable. My parents are lucky to have me."

Pam shook her head at him, still looking grave. "I don't have the patience for this. I've tried to be nice to you but all you've done is yell at me for no reason—"

"And you haven't been?" Zack suddenly burst out, his jaw dropped at the sheer audacity. "All you've done since I met you is stick your nose where it doesn't belong and insult me left and right. I told you from the beginning that my grade wasn't your business!"

"I made it my business!" Pam yelled back, poking a thumb at herself with a scowl. "I've been needing to talk to you but you keep running away! As soon as your eyes landed on me you decided you hated me even though you don't know anything about me!"

"Oh, and like you haven't done the same thing," Zack spat with rising ferocity, his eyebrow narrowed. "You said it yourself, as soon as you saw I was popular you decided I was stuck up. The only reason you ever took an interest in my grade or me was because you want something from me." His eyes dry and mouth twisted, he leaned down to her and said, "Well, spit it out already. Considering your opinion of me, I assume you weren't looking for an autograph."

Pam pursed her lips, suddenly looking a bit uncomfortable. "Well…"

"Here it comes!" Zack waved his arm in the air before he spun on his heel, crossed is arms, and sulked.

Pam groaned and rolled her eyes at the dramatic gesture, falling forward into a couple steps so she could peek her head around to look at him dryly. "Okay, yeah, I do want something, but you have every right to say no."

"No." Zack picked up his backpack and began off down the hall.

Pam's eyes bolted open and she raced after him, yelling, "Whoa, wait, you can't go!"

At her yell, he just began walking faster. He power-walked stiffly around the corner, only to get tackled to the floor the next second by the redhead. He toppled over in a throw of limbs and Pam went with him, the situation ending with his back being all but straddled by her as she poked her head over to look at him upside down. He ground his teeth, hardly knowing what to say, so he settled simply on allowing a sort of whining grunt to draw from his mouth.

Pam just blinked, her eyebrows furrowed in stubborn determination and tendrils of glaringly red hair swinging in front of his nose.

Finally, he managed a coherent phrase. It was sarcastic, naturally, "Can I help you?"

Pam cut her eyes at him. She hadn't meant to tackle him, but this was actually a great way of keeping him from running away. She should have just lassoed his ass down days ago and tied him to a tree, she mused. She smiled then, unnervingly enough, trying to be cheerful in hopes he'd want to agree with her demands. "Yes you can. You can help me a great deal. If you just hear me out."

Zack's teeth chattered, not liking anything about this. "I already said no—"

"Well, no isn't a good answer for me."

Zack groaned. He was a patient guy, really he was, but it was grinding down really fast. Damn gingers always messed with his head. Still, he tried to be civil, at least for once now, "Look, anything that involves me writing, I guarantee is going to be a no. This is pointless and people are going to start showing up soon, you know?"

Pam smirked. "Well then maybe you should stop fighting the inevitable and finally listen to me."

Zack grunted. "Can't you just send me to the gallows instead?"

Pam's cheerful face immediately filled with anger and she grabbed hold of his hair, pulling his head back slightly to glare at him. "Look, it's not that bad. I just want you to write one poem—"

"It's not happening, Red!" Zack suddenly slid his arms up and pushed his palms flat against the floor, effectively sitting himself up enough to pry her hands off of him and gently push her off. He gave a violent shudder then and shook himself, as if shaking off some toxic sludge before he stood up from the floor.

Pam sat up from the floor and glared at him, her shoulders stiff. "Come on, why not? It can even be anonymous! I don't care how you do it! I just need that poem!"

Zack heaved a breath loaded down with exhaustion and leaned over to grab his backpack up again. "What you need is therapy. Or, better yet, how about I just call up the men in the white coats to come down and get you instead? I mean, you clearly have a death wish," he leaned down and cut his eyes at her, "Ms. Idleberry."

Pam winced at the silent threat, before her face strengthened and she pushed herself off the floor, not taking her glaring eyes off of him for a second as she replied, "Right, Shortman, you want to play it that way…" Rolling up the sleeves of her jacket, she squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye, blue clashing with green. "Let's look at this logically. If people found out I was my mom's daughter, everyone would automatically start associating me with her and there's no telling what could happen. It could be horrible or it could be nothing. Now with you," she pointed a finger at him, "if people suddenly found out the great," she put metaphorical stars in her eyes and put a hand to her chest, eyes wandering off in awe, "Zachary Shortman," her face fell flat, "was good at something typically associated with girls, well…" she smirked, "you wouldn't be so macho-macho then would you? Your reputation would be shot. It's a guaranteed disaster."

As Zack stared at her, dumbfounded, Pam kept her smirk and crossed her arms over her chest. "I want what I want enough that I'm thinking maybe I'm willing to take the risk. The real question here is: are you?" She raised an eyebrow, shooting his own smug eyes back at him.

Sneaking out of the house wasn't a hard thing to do with his mom out of the house. He just turned his music on, locked his door and stuffed a few pillows under his covers just in case. Then proceeded to take said covers and tie them up into a rope, before tying it off on the legs of his bed and throwing the rest of it out his window.

He knew his dad would lose his mind if he found out, but the way Zack saw it, he wouldn't ever find out anyway. He had something he needed to do before dinner, and there wasn't a flying chance his father would let him out of the house after today. He had no choice.

So after a brisk run through the streets of his neighborhood, he stopped at the bus stop not too far off and waited. It wasn't long before he was on his way to Hillwood.

And the police station.

August sat in his usual spot during this time of day. Kicking his legs off the side of the pier and munching on a corndog, right on schedule, when all the kids made sure to steer clear of the place. The pier was a ghost town, so much so that the nine-year-old half expected a tumbleweed to roll by.

His first thought was inevitable. No witnesses. He took in a deep breath, reminding himself he knew what he was doing. He'd already gone too far to back out now, and he was tired of sitting around and doing nothing. With this thought in mind, he adjusted his black shirt, pushed his hair back, and smoothly curved the corners of his mouth skyward. He could do this. He could definitely do this. He was Zack Shortman, he could do this.

He gulped suddenly, allowing a small sweat to break out over his forehead. Yes, he could do this, but August could do this too, and he was still bigger. Much bigger. And stronger. And reckless. He shook his head of the disturbing thought quick before it could progress any further, and began over towards where his every nightmare sat, allowing his footsteps to creak against the old wood without constraint.

When August came to the pier, he did it for three things: peace, quiet, and semi-nontoxic food. And for almost all of seven years, he had been undisturbed—and if by some billion-to-one chance he was, the kid was always out of sight again as soon as he or she realized they'd stepped into the lion's den. So when he heard the footsteps coming from behind him and turned around to see one of the twerps, just like always his eyes narrowed, only to widen when he realized just which twerp it was and that he wasn't running. "Shortie?"

Zack grit his teeth as he came to a stop in front of him. "Zack actually."

August smirked, suddenly much more interested in the proceedings. "I think I'll stick with Shortie." Standing up to demonstrate this fact, the young man stood over him like a brick wall, casting a shadow more than big enough to keep him in perfect shade.

Zack's pupils dilated, but that was the only sign of a reaction he gave. August raised an eyebrow at him, humorously taking in his new clothes and how comically too big the plaid shirt was on him. "Aw, did you come down here to show me your new dress, Princess? I know you didn't come to bid me farewell again." He cracked his knuckles.

Zack took in a breath and looked him in the eye, nearly having to crane his head back to do so. "Actually I came to warn you."

August used the bare corndog stick to pick some meat out of his teeth. "Apocalypse here already? Well," he flicked the stick at him, smirking as it bounced off his nose, "bring on the demon babes."

Zack's face hardened, his lips disappearing in a straight line. August was at ease, which could only mean one thing—he thought he'd won. Zack's eyes darkened at the notion and he tried to cross his arms, only to realize with a start that his arm was in a cast. He hurriedly snapped his good arm to his side, hoping August hadn't noticed his slip. "No… It's just that clearly you forgot my warning from before, so I thought I should remind you."

August looked bored. "Oh? You mean that threat to run crying to the teacher?" He smiled, perfectly at ease. "I don't even go to that school anymore, remember? I assumed they told you, considering we're bestest best friends."

"Ohhh," Zack straightened his lips into a grim line, his eyes a bit dry, "well if this game we've been playing makes us bestest best friends, August, I guess we're about to get about ten times chummier."

August raised an eyebrow, still looking bored with a bit of amusement prancing about in his eyes. "And by that you mean…?"

Zack pulled a picture from his pocket and extended it out for him to look at. It was a somewhat distant snapshot of his signature on his cast beside the ink marks on his shoulder. August looked at it, but his expression didn't change and he didn't seem to get the meaning behind the picture, which was fine because Zack was more than happy to elaborate, "The ink matches perfectly. I went down to the dollar store to ask if anyone had come in to buy a red pen too. They have you on file. I even found said pen still laying on the floor where you dropped it after…" he forced back a scowl, "the incident. It's in a bag hidden somewhere. What do you want to bet it still has your finger prints?" He raised half of his brow.

August stared down at the picture for a long time, before he brought his eyes to Zack's in disbelief. "Are you blackmailing me, short man?"

Zack deposited the picture back into his pocket, his eyes intent on the task as he swept the tails of his shirt out of the way. "I warned you not to mess with me anymore. You didn't listen. So I guess…" he kept his eyebrow raised as he brought his eyes back up to the bully's, "yeah, I am blackmailing you."

"You can't be serious…" August looked like he was on the verge of laughing, his eyes sparkling with hidden mirth that had his skin crawling. "You don't know where I live or go to school anymore. You think you're going to keep me under your thumb when you don't even know where I am? And for what? By this time tomorrow, you'll never see me again." His eyes narrowed as he leaned down to inspect him closely, his head-sized fists on his hips. "Isn't that what you wanted? Why push your luck? You're just a little fail fly. I went easy on you before, but you're easily dispatchable if you cross me."

Zack held back a grimace at his hot, corndog-ridden breath hitting him in the face, but he held his ground. With a rather nasty glare, Zack stated, "I wanted to make sure you never bully anyone again, not just me. That was the deal." He snorted rather hard then and threw August back a step in surprise. Zack's glare only hardened. "You can't run from me, August. I talked to your grandpa."

August's eyes widened. "You did what?"

"Mr. Bailey, the creepy old guy who works down at the hall of records?" Zack raised half of his eyebrow, as if he needed to know. "I asked him where you lived. I assumed since you stayed home today that your parents already knew you'd taken yourself out, so I went for a quick visit. I told them we were friends." Zack smiled ruefully. "They told me everything."

August stared at him. One of his eyebrows flinched. "You're bluffing. Grandpa wouldn't ever tell you anything."

Zack felt a slight rush, and the tiniest smirk lit up on his face as he began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. "No, I'm happy to say I'm not. You'd be surprised what a couple boxes of donuts will do." His smirk became a little bolder, a piece of his fear fell away. "You live on Edgewood drive, right on the edge of the city, zip code 81260. The school your parents are enrolling you in is P.S. 117, a little farther away than P.S. 118 but apparently boasting high academic prowess." Zack clicked his tongue, eyes having wandered away as if in thought before he smiled insincerely and added, "Oh yeah, I also went down to the police station—"

"You did what?" August went to grab his collar, but Zack expected this and took a few quick steps back away from him, wagging his finger as he admonished, "Ah, ah, ah, no touching the merchandise. What will people say if they see me floating in the lake? People have seen you try to hurt me now. There are a ton of witnesses, all of whom would jump at the chance to see you in jail."

"'All of whom'?" August clenched his teeth, his fists shaking at his sides. "I oughta pound you just for that."

"Oh right," Zack snapped sarcastically, "I forgot you were held back five years."

August's eyes widened.

Zack nodded his head eagerly, grinning almost too happily for the redhead's comfort. "That's right, I told you. I know everything now. Where you live, go to school, your family, your pet guinea pig named Lector…" His face suddenly darkened. "Nice name by the way."

August was practically shaking when he took a tense step towards him, his hands held out like he wanted to strangle him, though he didn't come any closer than that. His breath was heavy as he breathed out, "You sneaky little—"

Zack just smiled crookedly, his eyes lidded halfway. "Yeah, I think that's been established. I know everything, I am everywhere and nowhere simultaneously." He rubbed his fingernails against the collar of his shirt, smirking ever so slightly. "You can't beat me. Literally or figuratively."

August tilted his head to him, his face twisted in utter baffled incredulity. He looked at him as if he'd never seen another human before in his life. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with, short man? How hard did you hit your head on that dumpster?"

Zack took a sudden step forward that lit the dock on fire, the anger he'd been trying to keep back suddenly possessing him for a split second as he spat out, "Yes, but clearly you haven't had even the slightest clue who you've been dealing with all this time. Stupid ginger."

August's jaw clunked to the ground. A second passed where everything froze but the wind, and even that seemed to go in slow motion before August flew forward and grabbed Zack's shirt in a vice-grip, his eyes all but hidden by his shaggy, red eyebrows. He shouted, "Listen, you little punk, you like sticking your nose where it doesn't belong? How about I stick it up your butt?"

Despite his best efforts, Zack couldn't help trembling a little at the fury in his face, suddenly acutely aware of just how stronger August was than him. Poking the bull with an inflamed stick wasn't a good idea apparently. But with a deep breath, he managed just enough nerve to raise his eyes to August's and said, "You can't hurt me."

August sneered, a malicious grin springing to his face. "Wanna bet, Shrimp? I'm going to juvie either way, so what do I care? Might as well finish the job." He gripped his fist tight into his shirt, choking him a little with his own shirt.

Zack's eyes widened for a split second and he held his breath, before he managed to breathe out, "You're not going to juvie."

"What's that, Pest? I couldn't hear you over the sound of your airways clearing." He smirked, and Zack realized from this proximity that his eyes weren't brown or red. They were hazel.

Zack didn't know what got into him. Probably the same thing that got into him back at the playground he guessed. He didn't know, but whatever it was caused his good arm to shoot up and force August's hands away, with a force that he hadn't known he possessed in himself. He stumbled back a few steps, his blond hair falling over his face again, and shot his eyes angrily at August. "I said you're not going to juvie! I stopped by the police station… I didn't actually go in!"

"You what?" Once again August's eyes widened, and the anger from before fled his features.

Zack took a breath, forcing away his own anger, and straightened himself. "I didn't turn you in." Seeing he was speechless to how to respond, Zack sighed and patiently explained, "I met with your parents remember? It took twenty minutes to get them to even look at me because they were so busy fighting. I saw the backwards writing on the desk in your room when I went looking for evidence. I know everything." He watched as the redhead stiffened, and that was all the resolve he needed to finish with, "I really don't think you deserve a second chance, but I'm giving you one anyway."

August blinked at him. "I… don't get it."

Zack resisted rolling his eyes, and drawled with a bit of sarcasm, "I didn't expect you to." August still didn't seem capable of a proper response, as his head was busy shooting sparks, so Zack added, "All I want is for you to stop hurting people. That's it. If the only way to do that is to lock you up, then that's just sad." Zack glared. "But make no mistake. If I hear you lay a hand on anyone ever again, you're history. This isn't a game anymore." A shrill beeping filled the air, and Zack looked down at his watch in surprise. With a glance at August, his unibrow high, Zack said, "Well, that's it for me. I hope I made myself clear."

Zack began walking away, his footsteps heavy on the creaky wood before he meandered up the steps to get off onto more sturdy territory. He was stopped by August's suddenly said, "Pretty good move, short man. Confusing the enemy."

Zack turned his head to him, his hand still on the railing, and raised half of the eyebrow shielded by his hair. "It's not just pretty good, Bailey. It's over. Oh, and by the way," he pushed his hair back to show his unibrow as a devilish smirk suddenly tore across his face, "you were wrong. The ladies love the brow."

A/N: YEP, THERE IS NO ESCAPE, THERE'S STILL ONE CHAPTER LEFT XD One that'll hopefully be much better than this one. -_-

This was the darkest chapter, AND the longest, AND the most poorly written. D: I may come back and try to re-write it again in the future. Super serious crap like this isn't my forte, but I wanted to practice it. xD Plus, I mean, when I was thinking up backgrounds for these kids, the idea of one of Arnold and Helga's kids being bullied was just... too hilariously ironic to pass up. XD

The next one's much happier and has much more comedy, though, as it is the finale. xD It's got TONS of fun stuff. Zack's reaction to Pam's diabolicalness, Pam's big reason for chasing Zack down about his poetry, the final progression into Zack becoming the world's biggest egotistical butt-wad, a flashback that reveals how Zack and Jaron first met, a reveal of who Ham's best friend is, Zack finding out about Phil's evilness, and some AxH fluff. XD So in other words... just, a LOT of crap. xD REVIEW IF YOU WANT IT. FEEL THE BURN. I know I felt it. *Smashes head against monitor* OH, and answer the poll on my profile. XD Please and thanks!

So, something I wanted to mention... it may seem a tad weird that I put in that August's eyes were hazel instead of brown. xD I did that because Zack always mistook August for having red eyes in his mind, and hazel eyes are often mistook for brown, and also tend to appear as a lot of different colors sometimes, including red, green, blue, and even sometimes purple (I know 'cause I have hazel eyes xD). So there's kind of some progression going on there. His eyes went from red, to brown, to finally, hazel. Because August does have reasons for being a bully and as Zack started realizing them and uncovering his reasons for it, how August appeared to Zack changed as well. I did this because the entire moral of Zack's chapter is that not everything is always what it seems, and people have reasons for being the way they are, whether it's bad or good or too good or whatever. HA! was always very big with that moral, so I wanted to put that in. August has dyslexia, he's got OCD, his parents fight all the time, etc., so the reason he beats kids up is because it gives him control, something he doesn't have a lot in his life. Does that justify his actions? No, but it explains them. Does Zack's being bullied justify his jerky need for control and overconfident, pompous behavior? No, but it explains them. See what I did thar? Try to understand people before you judge them.

Also, Idk if anyone's read my fics closely enough to realize, but Ms. Idleberry is actually a very old OC of mine. XD She appeared in "Too Little, Too Late" as a substitute teacher at P.S. 118 when Arnold and Helga were kids. XD And there she was young, freshly married, gorgeous and just starting out in her career... Now she's graying, divorced, bitter and with two kids xD! ROFLMBO

Okay enough rambling. I'll rant more in my final A/N to Zack. Carry on, citizens. XD *Salutes you all*

REVIEW!