(A/N: Welcome back to another installment of my super long fanfiction! I wanted to just make a quick note that, No, lmao, I've never actually trespassed inside an abandon pet food factory. The descriptions were based off of a place I used to work in! Although, I did trespass onto many places as a kid, this wasn't one of them XD, anyway... I'll also be uploading some fan art made by Moonlit_Stoop over on Instagram inside last chapter over on AO3, since its the only platform that allows picture. Check em out! And check our their IG, when you have the chance :3 Hope everyone enjoys this chapter!)
"After you." Arnold gestured kindly, as he opened up the glass panel from on top of his skylight, letting both Helga and Phoebe down into his room. The walk home had been pretty quiet, as far as he was concerned. He half expected Helga to start firing questions at him, in regards to what their adventure had really been about, and what was in that box they found but… strangely, she didn't. Being absolutely exhausted, he felt lucky that she seemed to respect his space, and let his mind wander all the way back to his house.
"I still don't get why you think we need to sneak in through your window, Football head." Helga grumbled in annoyance, crossing her arms. The last thing she wanted to do was climb his fire escape and up to the rooftop, after already enduring a hike through the abandoned factory, and walk home. "I mean, they may not have been expecting you back, but I never said I wasn't coming back."
"I just don't want to wake anyone up, Helga." Arnold frowned, latching his window tightly. "It's pretty late and my grandparents can be light sleepers. Opening the front door would have probably caused Abner to rush down the stairs to see who it was. I'm just trying to be respectful."
"Whatever." She replied, carefully opening his door, and motioning Phoebe to follow her down. "Just hurry up and take a shower before you permanently smell like pennies. Let's go, Phoebe."
He waited patiently for the two girls to leave his room, before gathering up a change of clothes, and his shower supplies. He couldn't remember the last time he was this excited to shower!
Walking by Helga's room, Arnold could hear the two chatting away, and a smile wandered onto his face. A giant weight had finally been lifted off of his chest, as he was now finally free from a heavy burden he'd been carrying for a while now, and despite being the one who'd offered to help Harold, he felt like he should be the one thanking him now, instead of the other way around.
Once inside the bathroom, Arnold locked the door, and turned the shower on. The sound of the running water splashing up against the porcelain tub's surface sent a wave of calm over his mind, and after damning his soiled clothes to the floor, Arnold stepped in. Letting out a sigh of relief, he let his body relax under the hot water, and reflected silently on how good fortune seemed to always present itself to him in unusual ways.
Is there really such thing as fate? Or is life really just made up of odd coincidences, that sometimes just happen to fall in all the right places? He wondered, imagining a line of dominoes all toppling over, one by one, until revealing a pleasant pattern. "Every experience, even the bad ones, usually give us something we didn't have before!" He remembered his grandpa telling a younger version of himself, after falling off his bike and skinning his knee. "In the end, it's whatever we do with this new piece of information, that determines whether or not if it was all worth it. Now I bet you won't try a stunt like that again, will you, Arnold?"
"No, Grandpa…" Young Arnold pouted, holding back his tears. All he had wanted to do was what those big kids did down the block. They had made the trick look so easy!
"Atta boy!" The old man patted him on his head and picked the bike back up. "Sometimes, getting hurt is the best gift someone can get! Cuz' you learn to be more careful next time, and live another day!" He then put his hand up to his chin in thought. "Can't say the same thing about my old friend Jimmy Kafka, though. It took about 58 rejections from the Queen Bee of high school before he realized he never stood a chance with her, or anyone for that matter, and in the end, he'll wind up dying alone!" He looked down to see a confused boy, who only wanted to get back on his bike. With a laugh, Phil wheeled the bike over, picked up his grandson and plopped him back on the seat. "Oh, but you won't have to worry about a thing like that! With the good looks that run in our family, you'll have to keep a water bottle in your pocket at all times to keep the girls from climbing all over you! Women are like cats, Arnold! A simple spray of water to the face will send em' running for the hills!"
Letting out a small chuckle, Arnold smoothed the shampoo through his thick, blond hair and continued to remember various life lessons learned through the colorful stories his grandparents would tell him. Even the old bed time stories about his parents, though mostly made up, still wove in some sort of life lesson, all while helping him feel connected to them while they were away. Was it fate that led Arnold back to them, after all of those years? Or was it simply just the heinous scheme of a treacherous villain, and his obsession over a priceless artifact that caused Arnold to stumble upon the small, forgotten village of which his parents slept? Maybe all of it could just be boiled down to plain, dumb luck? While in the past, Arnold would have definitely just blamed it on luck or the musing of the universe, but for some reason, in this moment, he wasn't really sure anymore. Sometimes things just fit too neatly to be blamed on coincidence. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Harold to fall pray to some prank, nor for Arnold to end up hearing a discussion in the hallway, and offer to help his friend out. Winding up at Eugene's house for a group sleep over was pretty strange, but it definitely wasn't out of the ordinary for Gerald to lecture Arnold about him worrying too much, and helping him sort out his thoughts because Gerald was just a pretty laid-back kind of guy who did his best to help him out. The thing that Arnold kept going back to, though, was the odds of selecting the exact person he needed as his partner: Phoebe.
In true Arnold fashion, it wasn't enough to simply understand what he was feeling, and why he was feeling it, but also what to do with those feelings. While Gerald's advise to take Helga out on some nice, fancy date sounded like something she would enjoy, it also just didn't seem to fit the bill. After all, she wasn't just any sort of girl, she was Helga Pataki: A loud, foul mouth, ready to kick the snot out of you just for looking at her funny, sort of girl, who didn't take any crap, from anybody… but she was also a normal, sensitive girl, who wore a bow in her hair, liked the color pink, and had deeper feelings than anyone he'd ever met. With someone as complex as that, a fancy dinner date with flowers and a gift wouldn't cut it. If he was going to tell her how he felt, he needed to do it within a place of her element; somewhere she could accept his feelings and express her own in a way that was comfortable, without feeling awkward, or feeling like she had to put on a show just to keep composure, in case anyone they knew saw them. Sure, it was no secret that she liked the finer things in life, and could have expensive taste, but he also knew this wasn't something that defined her. The real Helga was just someone who liked to have fun by playing sports, getting dirty or simply throwing rocks at dumpsters for the heck of it. She had a lot of things she liked and disliked, but there was only one person in the world who probably knew them all, and this one person ended up being his partner for the night. Even if their location wasn't optimal, they would be alone, in a place where no one could hear their conversation, and with ample time to discuss such a delicate topic. Could something like this really be considered dumb luck? Or was it really a sign?
As the shower concluded, Arnold did a quick rinse off for a second time, just to make sure he was actually clean, before wrapping himself up in an oversized towel. He stepped onto the bath mat, and took notice of a small height difference compared to that of a few weeks ago, as he could now easily touch the shower's curtain rod without standing on his tiptoes. This thought made him smile, as it was just another positive change going on within him and, despite his legs sometimes aching, it seemed as though a little pain might be needed in order for things to move forward. This was, of course, another memento that his grandparents had given him over the years of their teaching.
Arnold thought back to his karate lessons with his grandma. His body would always ache after each lesson but she'd never give into his complaints, and if anything, work him that much harder for it.
"I don't get it, Grandma… why are we doing all of this?" He asked her, attempting to balance himself during a hand stand, using only one hand. "What does balance have anything to do with getting my bus pass back, or self-defense?"
"One must learn balance within life, dear." She replied, sitting cross legged in front of him, with her eyes closed. "Just as a howling wind can rampage across the land, taking everything with it as it sees fit… a strong tree will just sway against its might."
The young Arnold felt his arm muscle begin to quiver from beneath him, and he began to sweat. "But I'm so tired. Can't I take a break? I feel like I've been doing this forever."
Gertie opened up one of her eyes, gave him a sweet smile, then closed it once more. "Forever is only a brief moment for some, but an eternity for others." She began to hum flatly.
"You keep saying things like that, Grandma… But I still don't understand what it means." Arnold watched as a bead of sweat dropped off of his nose, and became absorbed by the carpet below.
"What is the meaning of life, if we're all meant to die?" The old woman wittily countered. "It's the journey that matters, not the destination. Without hardships and struggle, would anything be perceived as a gift? It's this delicate balance of light and dark, that we must face in order to appreciate what we have." She opened up both her eyes, then looked down at her wrist watch. "Your body may be tired, but this too shall pass in time. You've already managed to last 5 minutes longer than you did yesterday!"
"Wait, really?" He asked in shock, before immediately losing balance and falling over with a loud thud. He could hear his grandmother cackle, which only annoyed him further as he rubbed his sore arm. "Ouch…"
Gertie crawled over to him, looked over his tender arm, and touched it gently. "Still seems like its in fine working condition, tadpole!" She boasted happily, but when the look of disappointment on her grandson's face didn't change, she gave a small sigh. "Hard work isn't called hard, for no reason, Arnold." Lifting his chin up with her thumb, she met him at eye level. "It may hurt now, but once our training reaches its conclusion, all the pain and turmoil you feel now will feel like it never existed at all… just like the ripples in a pond dissipate over time."
Her warm eyes helped him feel more at ease, even if he still didn't fully understand. "Alright, grandma." He said, giving her a smile. "If you say so."
Arnold picked up his new toothbrush, pressed its power button, and looked at it queerly as it made a loud whirring noise back at him. Even if he had used it a few times now, the sensation of it vibrating around in his mouth was still something he was trying to get used to, and wondered if he ever really would. With technology booming all around him, this definitely wasn't an invention he could have ever imagined, nor could he fully understand its benefits when compared to that of his trusty old fashioned toothbrush. Shrugging, he continued his nightly routine with ease.
"I have to say, your room is bigger than I expected it to be." Phoebe mentioned, looking around Helga's new bedroom in interest. "Maybe not the size of your original bedroom, but still larger than your last."
Helga snorted out a laugh. "Anything beats that closet." She replied, flipping through a few pages of the magazine Phoebe had brought with her. "Geez, have you seen the costumes in this thing?" She asked, holding up the page for her nearsighted friend to see. "It seems like every year they get skimpier! French maid, Sexy fairy, even the Grim Reaper themed outfit has far more skin than any dead person should have! Criminy! I thought Halloween was supposed to be for kids?"
"I think the most ridiculous one would have to be the "Flirty Nun" costume." Replied Phoebe, turning a few pages and pointing it out. "A pious woman would never wear something as scantily clad as this, much less flirt."
"And the prices are even more outrageous! Nearly 50 bucks for something that has less cloth than my pillow case? Are they kidding? I'd be better off asking Arnold's grandma for some of her old clothes." Helga complained, tossing the magazine carelessly across her bed, and falling backwards on her pillow. "Screw this stupid Halloween party."
"Given your lack of funds, that does seem like an easier option…" Phoebe noted, taking a seat next to her downtrodden friend. "Though, I am pleased to hear that you're at least considering that as a plausible option, and considering your most recent escapade together, I'm sure she'd be more than happy to lend something out to you."
"More screws loose than this dump, but…" A shallow smile made its way onto Helga's lips as she thought about their exhausting night, jumping buildings. "She's at least entertaining, I'll give her that."
"Insightful too." Phoebe added. "You're lucky to have someone as young spirited as her to learn from, and in such great shape, too!"
"You still haven't told me what you and Geraldo are planning to go as." Helga mentioned, changing the subject. "I still think it's pretty corny to go themed like a couple, so it better be cool, with how much hype you've given it."
A strange gleam shown behind the small girls blue framed glasses. "I think it's a rather clever combination of both shocking and genius, if I do say so myself." Phoebe replied, with an ominous sort of chuckle. "We've decided to keep it a secret until the day of, so you'll have to wait like everyone else."
The two girls then heard the sound of a door opening and shutting, as Arnold had finally made his way back to his bedroom.
"Took him long enough…" Helga grumbled, as she got to her feet to retrieve her own bathroom supplies. "With a shower that long, I'd be surprised if we have any water left in the ocean, much less for us to use for our own hygiene."
"You made a rather crass remark about him smelling, Helga." Phoebe reminded her, as she hopped off the creaky bed and wandered over to her backpack. "I would have taken an extra long shower myself, if I had been trapped down in that awful drainage pipe."
"I can't believe they made is go through all of that for a box of old dirty magazines!" Helga remarked harshly, grabbing her tooth brush and tooth paste out of the small shower caddy, which sat on the top shelf of her closet. "What a waste of a Saturday night!"
Phoebe could only smile, and follow after her best friend on route to her own nightly routine. There was more than one secret she was holding in; one far more interesting than a planned Halloween costume.
"It doesn't look that far down…" said Arnold, shining his light down the large drainage hole in front of him. "I'll just jump down there and check it out."
"Are you insane, Arnold?!" Phoebe yelled harshly, completely amazed at how casual this kid could be in suggesting such a dangerous task. "Have you forgotten where we are? This goes beyond fear of tetanus! You could get seriously injured, or stuck! It's possible that we would need to call for outside assistance, if the situation became serious enough! You wouldn't only be risking your safety, but we'd all get into trouble by the authorities for trespassing!"
Arnold swallowed down the bile that had been bubbling up in his throat. "We've made it out of sticky situations like this before. Remember treasure hunting at Elk Island?"
"How could I forget?" Phoebe placed her hand on her forehead, regretfully. "How naïve we were… Who knows what could have happened to us if Sheena's uncle Earl hadn't tried to pay for his meal with counterfeit money! Those men could have tied us up and thrown us into the river to drown, or we could have gotten stuck in some sort of trap! You're only proving my point, Arnold!"
The boy did his best to lull her protesting shrieks a quiet, "Shhhhh…" but only gaining an angry scowl in response.
"Don't hush me! Have you forgotten that our whole class could have wound up dead out in the middle of South America, all because you took the liberty of concocting a scheme with deadly river pirates, and ending up being duped in the process?!" As Phoebe heard her words echo off the building's old walls, she immediately realized she had taken a step too far. "I apologize…" She sighed, shaking her head in both disapproval of letting herself get worked up, as well as her unnecessary harsh words. "I'm aware that your willingness to go along with their plan, probably wouldn't have changed the end results of that matter… The point I'm trying to make is, just because we've been lucky enough to come out on top a few times, doesn't mean our luck won't run out eventually. I don't know what could be so important in that box down there, but under no circumstances am I letting you jump down into that hole!"
It only took a few more moments of protests, until Phoebe was left with her head hanging in shame. "I can't believe I let you jump down into that hole…"
"I can't believe I misjudged the depth as much as I did…" Arnold replied, looking at his surroundings and then back up at her.
"Be that as it may, are you able to get the box from under your feet?" She asked, holding in a little bit of hope that his sacrifice wasn't in vain.
Arnold shuffled his feet around the cardboard box's crushed top. "I think so… hold on." He said, as he leaned his back against the dirty walls of the drainage pipe, and shimmied himself into a crouching position, to where he could reach down, grab a corner of the box, whilst kicking it up in his hand in the process. "I got it!" He cried out victorious, but after some arduous ripping and tearing, Arnold's heart fell to the floor, when he pulled out his treasure: An old phone book.
"Wonderful…" Phoebe groaned, falling to her knees in dismay and holding out the small radio within her grip. "While I'm thankful that you're not hurt, unless Harold is an avid phone book collector, it seems our time has been wasted… Hold on while I call for some help."
"Wait!" Arnold called out to her quickly, before she could press the small button on the receiver. "If you call for help now, we may never find the treasure and all of this really will be a waste of time. Let's hold off for now." He gripped the old book in his hands, then sighing in defeat. "I know… you're going to tell me that I'm crazy again, but we've already come this far so we might as well see it through, and besides, I'm already down here. It may be cramped and dirty, but I'm safe… right?"
"The pipe you're standing on could give way to rust, taking you with it, so I hardly consider you safe, but…" Phoebe shined her light around the room and took notice of the quality. "Taking into consideration when this structure was built, and it still remaining in fairly good condition, despite the elements and vandalism over time… I would say the likelihood of it decaying that badly to be pretty low."
This news gave Arnold some reprieve. "Good…"
A brief silence fell between the two, as Arnold contemplated carefully. "Actually, there's something I've been thinking about lately, and I was hoping you could… maybe help me out."
Curious, Phoebe shined her flashlight down on Arnold, highlighting his nervous movements and raised her brows in surprise. "What is it?"
"You see… I know you already know this, but Helga's been through a lot lately, and I was thinking of maybe taking her someplace nice… you now, where she can relax and be herself without having to worry about anything…" He explained, thumbing the fan of pages in his hands awkwardly. "She's always on edge when we're in public, worrying about who might see us and what they might think…"
"Her insecurities always tend to get the best of her…" Phoebe frowned, understanding full well the issue he was attempting to explain. "But Arnold…"
"I was just hoping maybe you had any ideas of where I could take her, that's all." He finished, interrupting her midsentence. "You've been around her for as long as I can remember, so you must know her the best!"
Phoebe bit her lip, conflicted. Oh… I've always made it a point to never meddle in Helga's affairs, especially when it came to Arnold, however what he's asking for is so pure and simple, surely helping him out would be a benefit for them both, right? After all, I wouldn't be divulging any secrets of Helga's, only giving him helpful suggestions on where she might like to go… oh, but still… I just can't shake this uneasy feeling that any suggestions taken by him, would then feel disingenuous on his part, and cause his plan to backfire horribly… and it would be my fault… She thought, painfully. He has to be able to conclude this on his own… I should be able to just nudge him in the right direction, though…
"It's true… I do know her the best…" Phoebe began, focusing on her plan. "However, I think she would be happy with any grand gesture done by you. After all, it's the thought that counts, right?" She paused, giving him a second to process her words. "Just try to think, what does Helga like? You've been around her just as long as I have, so surely, you've heard her talk about wanting to go someplace, or do something."
"She's competitive and likes to play sports with us, but I wouldn't want to take her to a baseball game since we've recently done this for my birthday." Arnold explained, as he thought out loud. "I know she likes to throw rocks in the river, or at dumpsters, when she needs to kill time but I can hardly consider that date material."
"Right, she usually does that to blow off steam." Phoebe agreed, smiling that he was at least understanding of this much. "Keep going, Arnold. You're doing fine."
Appreciating the encouragement, Arnold smiled shyly and continued. "She likes to watch movies… but we've also been there recently as well, and I don't even think there is anything playing that she'd rather watch."
"Why would you say that?" Inquired Phoebe, thinking back to the most recent listings of movies playing. "I'm pretty sure there are a few horror flicks out by now, considering the season."
"That's not exactly the atmosphere I had in mind…" Arnold replied, thinking about how awkward it would be for him to confess his feelings for her, in front of someone getting slaughtered. Sure, she'd enjoy the actual movie and the theater was definitely dark enough to where she wouldn't worry so much about them being seen, but it seemed to cliché.
"True…" Phoebe crossed her arms, now completely engulfed in her task, and once again no longer concerned about her surroundings. "Although, I have to say I'm quite impressed that you're taking this so seriously. It seems to me like you already have an idea in mind, and possibly just need validation?"
"No… I've gone over the options many times but, everything seems underwhelming or just not the type of thing I'm looking for." Arnold shook his head, feeling like he was at a loss. "Of course, I could take her to get ice cream, and just watch the ships at the harbor but that's something we can do any time. Not to mention she would probably be on high alert of people spotting us."
Hearing him be so openly romantic, caused Phoebe to blush. That's definitely something Helga would treasure… it's a shame he's passed on the idea, even though I can understand why. She began thinking about their possible future, without all of Helga's insecurities in the way. She pictured just how happy Helga could really be, a giant smile on her face, twinkling eyes, with the person she loved by her side, thinking of her so passionately and enjoying simple moments with her, uninterrupted. Sadly, she knew well that this wasn't their current relationship, and promptly took her head out of the clouds. "Well, maybe I can help you better if you explain to me what atmosphere you're looking for?"
"Some place she can have fun, and just be her; a place she's not afraid to be seen, even if I happen to be with her." Arnold's voice deepened as his heart began to slowly sink. It was beginning to feel like such a place might not be reachable for him, if even Phoebe couldn't think of one.
"Would it be okay if the place happened to be crowded and loud?" Phoebe asked, placing a knuckle against her lips, and contemplating the options. "Or would that kill the atmosphere you're looking for?"
Arnold's ears perked up at the sound of her investigative voice. "If she was okay with it, it would be fine by me. Maybe something like a festival?"
"No… Something like that would be far too open, and cause you both to be easily spotted." Phoebe replied, still deep in thought on how to carefully tread around this idea, without giving too much away. "I was thinking something similar to that of the stadium or the theater. Plenty of people to disappear into, while still being able to enjoy yourselves without needing to interact with others. An event, perhaps."
"I can't think of anything interesting going on that she'd have any interest in, though." Arnold crossed his arms, in an attempt to soothe himself while he thought hard. "Usually, when something exciting comes to town its all over the news, or in the paper, and my Grandpa tells me about it. The only thing he's mentioned to me lately, is almost guessing the winning lottery numbers."
"Then perhaps that's not the medium you should be seeking. What about… posters stapled to telephone poles, or even the radio?" She suggested, thoughtfully. "Most casual conversations stem from common interests, so it's possible that he wouldn't mention something to you that didn't arouse his own interest, or if he knew it wasn't something you were into."
"That is true." The boy gave a small chuckle, easing off some of the weight he'd been carrying. "Or its something ridiculous that he wants to rant about, like gas prices."
"Speaking of prices…" Phoebe cleared her throat. "Not that it's any of my business, but since it's relevant to the topic at hand, how much were you looking to spend on this date? This may also be a very important factor in whatever you choose to do."
Arnold frowned. "That's another thing I'm worried about." He said, scratching his head. "As much as I'd like to take her out some place fancy, I don't exactly have a lot of pocket money."
"So, taking her out someplace lavish is quite out of the question." Phoebe nodded, understanding. "It's possible that you won't need a lot of cash, if you knew someone on the inside, if you will." She smiled as he finally seemed to look up at her; noticing her watching him and giving her an awkward look. "I believe I've heard Harold mentioning that he has a family member who usually works as a security guard for local events. Considering our night tonight, and your risk within that hole… I think it's safe to say he owes you one."
Her words sparked an idea, and images of Harold boasting to the guys about getting into places for free, began flooding through his mind. "That's right! I almost forgot!" He nearly yelled. "I could ask Harold if maybe he knows of any events going on around town, that he could get me tickets for!" He wanted to jump up and down, as elation filled within him. "Phoebe! You're a genius!"
The compliment caused Phoebe to chuckle proudly to herself. "I wouldn't go that far… I was merely just suggesting things of common knowledge, but I did manage to create a radio signal from Rhonda's cellphone, a wire hanger, and some pieces of junk I found lying around an old hut, once." She said with a smug grin. "In any case, I believe you've found a solution to your dilemma, then?"
With hope now restored back into Arnold, he gave her a thumbs up. "Yeah, thanks a lot!"
Sunday mornings beams flooded into the full tree house, causing many of the boys to wake or stir. They had each enjoyed the night together, sharing stories and joking about the past night's events.
"What time is it…?" asked Sid, curling up into the fetal position and letting a wooden beam block out some of the light.
A groggy Gerald groped inside his backpack, and pulled out his watch. "7:28am…"
The treehouse shook, as Harold rolled over to his side and mumbled something incoherently in his sleep, nearly kicking Stinky in the face.
"Watch it!" He shouted, pushing Harold's foot away from him with a scowl.
The commotion caused many of them to actually begin getting up, and soon they noticed they had a member missing.
"Where's Eugene?" Gerald asked the group, looking around with concern until gravitating over to the balcony and looking down.
"Oh no!" Sid gasped, his face becoming grim with a possible realization. "Did Harold push him out of the treehouse or something?"
"No, he's not down there." Gerald replied, shaking his head, and turning back to the group. "He must have woken up before the rest of us, and headed home."
Curly scoffed. "Not surprising…" He replied, rolling up the blanket he had been using, and stuffing it back into his bag. "His Mommy and Daddy used to pick him up at the crack of dawn back when he used to sleep over my house when we were in the third grade. Something about taking Grandma shopping… if I remember correctly." He then slung his backpack over his shoulder, and pushed Gerald out of his way. "See ya, jokers." He said with a wink. "I've got my own business to take care of."
"What kinda business do ya got at half passed the roosters crow, Curly?" Stinky asked, scratching his butt while he watched the sketchy kid climb down the old rope ladder. "And on a Sunday, at that?"
The moment Curly's feet hit the ground; he peered back up at the 3 boys with squinted eyes. "Business that's none of yours!" He took a few steps, and then turned around sharply. "But, if you have to know, Sunday is our busiest day of the week. Countless people flock to our laundry mat to clean their clothes and it's all hands-on deck!"
"I didn't know Curly had a job…" Sid whispered to the others, confused. "Isn't child labor illegal?"
Gerald shrugged. "Not if it's a family business, and besides, I had a job at nine…" Suddenly, an odd realization hit him, "A few, now that I think about it…"
"Hey Curly!" Stinky shouted, waving at his pal with a wide smile. "Hope your Sunday doesn't bite!"
With a funny expression, Curly gave a curt nod, before marching off around the corner.
"I tell ya, that kid leads quite a charmed life…" Stinky remarked with a shake of his head, before turning around and grimacing at Harold, who was chewing on his blanket and making weird noises. "Should we just leave him here?"
Sid walked over, and began shoving Harold with his foot. "Come on, Harold!" He shouted. "You gotta get back to your house and hide the stash before your Mom calls Arnolds house, and finds out that you're not there! Then you really might die!"
"Hold on, guys… I got this one…" Gerald chuckled with a sly smile. "Oh look! The Jolly Olly man is handing out free Ice cream! We better go get some before it's all gone!"
Harold's eyes shot wide open, and an assortment of snorts and gargles came out of his mouth. "Huh?!" He blurted out, stumbling to his feet and wiping the drool off his face. "Where?!" He asked, rushing over to the balcony, and nearly tripping over his blanket. "Where?! I don't see him!" It only took a few more seconds of silence, to make the tired Harold realize he had been tricked and scowled angrily at his giggling friends. "Hey! That's not funny!"
The group ignored Harold's childish pouting, and began getting their things together.
"I don't know about you, Harold, but I wanna get home and take a shower before the hot water runs out…" explained Gerald, with a frustrated look as he felt up his misshapen hair. "I still feel like I got spiders crawling on me."
"It's cuz you do." Stinky replied, flicking a spider off of Gerald's back. "We are in a tree…"
Gerald gave the boy a dull look. "Thanks, Stinky. I wasn't aware."
With a huff, Harold began shoving his blanket into his backpack. Once he saw the Walkie-Talkie, he paused and looked around. "Hey! Where's Eugene and Curly?"
"They all woke up from your loud snoring, and left to get some good sleep at home." Sid joked, with a laugh. "And I don't blame them!"
"My snoring isn't that loud!" Harold cried out in defense. "And I can't help it! My mom says it's a condition!"
They each took turns stepping down the old ladder, until they were firmly planted on the grass beneath the old treehouse. Looking up at it, they each felt a small bit of nostalgia as they remembered fond times spent there over the years.
"What'll you think will happen to the treehouse once we're too big for it?" asked Harold, with a hint of concern.
"I think you're already too big for it, Harold." Stinky replied, shortly. "Ya took up half the room by yourself and nearly kicked me in the face."
Harold's face turned beet red, causing him to stomp off. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
"What?" Stinky shrugged, looking at the other two. "It's true."
"Stupid, Stinky! Stupid, Sid!" Grumbled Harold as he stomped down the sidewalk. "Always making fun of me!" He let his face slowly fade back to its normal pinkish color, as he blew off some steam. It was a pretty short walk back to his house, and for that he was glad. Although the night being pretty scary, once Harold looked back on it, he realized that it was actually pretty fun once it was all over.
Shifting his backpack to release some tension on his shoulder, Harold could feel the weight of the magazines slide inside. Would his mom be awake and check his bag? It wasn't something she would usually do, but he also wouldn't doubt his bad luck from causing it to happen anyway. Harold could feel his forehead become a little cold, as the autumn wind blew his way, and brought attention to the sweat that had been building up from both the exercise, and his nerves.
Once he got to his stoop, Harold looked around. "I gotta find a place to hide my bag…" He whispered to himself. "Mommy usually does her bulk shopping today, so I know if I hide it, I can say I accidentally left my bag at Arnolds! Then once she leaves, I can bring it in without her knowing!"
Suddenly, Harold heard his mothers voice coming from the other side of the door. Without thinking, he quickly opened up one of the trash cans, and threw his backpack inside, causing the metal lid to clang loudly as he slammed it shut.
His front door opened, and his mother stood looking at him with bewilderment. "Harold?" She asked, picking up a full trash bag from her side. "What are you doing home so early?" She began walking towards him, but stopped once she got a better look at him. "And why are you so filthy?! Does Arnold's house not have a shower?"
"He… He does!" Harold replied nervously, holding the lid of the trash can firmly, with both hands behind him. "The guys and I just decided to do… a morning jog! Yeah! And I tripped and got a little dirty…" He let out a soft giggle, then reached out for the trash bag. "You're getting ready to go shopping, right? I'll throw out the trash!"
Mrs. Berman eyed him suspiciously, before noticing the sweat that was now dripping from his brow. "Matòk Shelì" She smiled softly, handing him the trash bag. "Don't strain your body so much… I don't want you to get hurt!"
Gripping the heavy trash bag, Harold sweetly smiled back. "I'm okay, Mommy!" He blushed, doing his best to act as normal as possible, so she wouldn't suspect anything. "Really!"
"Alright..." She replied, heading back inside. "Now, hurry back inside so you can get out of those dirty clothes and into the shower. I'll get you something nice at the store, for your hard work!"
He waited until she shut the door behind her, before breathing in a sigh of relief. "That was close…" He said to himself, opening up the trash can. Harold eyed his backpack for a moment, before placing the black bag on top of it snuggly. He knew it would be safe there, since the garbage trucks didn't come around for another few days.
As Harold opened up his front door, he could hear his parents in the kitchen, going over what to put on the shopping list. Quickly, he ran up the stairs and into his room. All he had to do now, was wait for her to leave…
5 minutes… 10 minutes… 15 minutes…
Harold was growing impatient as he looked at his alarm clock, and listened to his parents down below. "What's taking her so long?!" He complained, opening up his bedroom door and listening below.
"All I'm saying, is we should encourage this new habit of his, Marilyn!" Mr. Berman explained patiently. "Exercise is healthy! It prompts a strong body and a healthy mind, how on Earth could that be bad?"
"Our boy is perfectly healthy!" Marilyn replied back, angrily. "He's still growing and doesn't need to feel bad about the way he looks!"
"The doctor said…"
"I don't care what he said!" The woman shot back. "He's our son, not his! Harold still has yet to have his growth spurt, and once he does, it will all even out accordingly!"
"Marilyn… the boy is about to be 16 years old…"
"Enough, Jerry!"
"Okay… okay…"
Harold could hear shuffling downstairs, and some clanging of keys. "Finally…" He thought, frowning as he held in his mixed feelings about these fights his parents often had. While he understood that they both wanted what was best for him, he still couldn't help but feel bad. He didn't mind the way he looked, and neither did his mom, so why did his dad always have to criticize him so much? Harold had heard the doctor talking to them, voicing concerns with big words he didn't understand… but did all of that really matter, if he was happy?
"I'll be back in a few hours…" Marilyn said to her husband, kissing him on the cheek and opening up the front door. "Harold!" She yelled up the stairs. "I haven't heard that shower running! You better be cleaned up before I get home or you won't get that surprise!"
With a gulp, he opened his door a little wider. "I'm going now!" He called down to her, wishing she would just leave and stop nagging so much.
Moments later, he heard the front door shut and knew she was finally gone. To make sure he kept his word, Harold grabbed a towel from their linen closet, and placed it inside the bathroom, all whilst listening closely to his father's movements downstairs. He could hear the TV turn on, and knew he was finally in the clear.
"Oh yeahhh…" He yelled out, loud enough for his father to hear, before wandering down the stairs. "I'll be right back." He told him. "I think I accidentally left my backpack outside when I was helping out with the trash!"
Jerry gave his son a weird look, before looking back at the program. "You shouldn't leave your things outside, Harold. That's how things get stolen."
"I know…" Harold feigned embarrassment. "I'll just go grab it really quick!"
Without letting his father get another word in, Harold quickly ran out of his house, open the trash can and tugged out his backpack successfully. "Got it!" He cheered, but his smiling face soon turned dark once he turned around and saw his father standing in the doorway. His mouth hung open, and his brain fumbled for words to say.
"Why was your backpack inside the trash can?" asked Mr. Berman, scratching his head.
"I… Uhh…" was all that managed to come out of Harold's mouth.
"You know…" Jerry mumbled before shrugging. "I don't want to know. Just… go upstairs and clean up before your mom gets back." He finished, shaking his head hopelessly and walking back inside. "Kids..."
The backpack was beginning to feel so heavy in the young man hands, as it seemed like everything in the universe was trying to stand in his way from obtaining the contents inside. Harold scowled as a bit of spite surfaced forward. Did he even want the magazines anymore? Actually, did he ever at all? The only reason he had to get them was to protect himself so now that everything was all over, did he even really need them anymore?
Clutching the bag, Harold looked up at the morning sky and just took in a deep breath. Everything was over now, he had what he needed, and he could finally rest. A clean set of clothes, and nice warm shower was waiting for him just inside and there was no need to worry at this moment.
Harold casually walked back into the house, up his stairs and went directly into the bathroom.
"Oh… You beautiful doll! You great, big, beautiful doll!" Grandpa Phil sang as he finished putting away the freshly dried dishes back where they belonged. "Let me put my arms around you, I could never live without you!" He danced while he sang, clanging the silverware as he tossed them in their respective holders. "Oh! You beautiful doll, you great big beautiful doll!"
He heard someone walk into the room, and saw his grandson searching for something, but didn't stop his merriment. "If you ever leave me how my heart will ache…" He placed his hand over his heart, and limped over to Arnold, who only chuckled in response. "I want to hug you, but I fear you'd break!" He sang, wrapping his arms around the youth, who only laughed more. "You won't break, will you Arnold?"
"No, Grandpa." Arnold replied, as Phil shook him back in forth within his grasp.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh!" Phil let him go and hopped on one leg back to the counter to continue his chore. "Whatcha looking for, Shortman?" He asked, adjusting his attention to the new arrival.
"Has the newspaper been delivered yet today?" asked Arnold, now convinced it was no where in the kitchen, as it usually was.
"Hmm… It arrived 8 O' Clock on the dot, like it usually does…" Phil scratched his chin. "I remember because the animals went wild, then so did your Grandma, but what else is new?"
Arnold walked over to his grandpa and began giving him a hand with the pots and pans. "Where did it go from there?"
"What? Are you writing a book?" Phil asked him, jokingly. "You'll have to leave out that chapter!"
"Grandpa…" Arnold scolded, looking at the man with a long, and obvious face.
"You should've been up on time to see where it went, then, huh?" The old man smiled. "Think fast!" He said, before tossing a frying pan over to the young man, who promptly caught it by its handle. "Good catch!" He began putting away the cups, but noticed the silence from his partner and decided to continue the banter. "Have a long night, last night? I never heard you come in!"
"Yeah… You could say that." Arnold replied, face still full of exhaustion at the thought of his previous adventure into the unknown. "I had planned on sleeping over Gerald's house, but things ended earlier than I had expected, so I came home through the roof top to not wake anyone."
Phil looked over at the boy, a little shocked. "You two didn't have another fight, did you?"
"No, no!" Arnold reassured, waving his hands back and forth. "Nothing like that." He smiled at his elder, to show he was being truthful. "Things just went a little… messier than."
"Ohhhh!" Phil nodded. "So, you're the one who used up all the hot water last night!" With a sour face, the old man grabbed a few plates and stuck them up high. "The boarders weren't very happy when it was their turn. Caused quite a commotion!"
Arnold paused and blinked for a moment. "I don't think I was in there that long… was I?"
"Dunno! I was dead asleep…" Phil laughed. "Could you hand me that big serving plate?" He waited while Arnold picked through the dishes. "No, not that one. The green one." Once the correct one was held up, Phil gave his grandson a big smile. "That's the one!" He looked it over a few times. "I think Pookie brought this home from some tag sale when you were still in diapers! Oh… memories!"
"I better go apologize to them…" Arnold replied, feeling guilty about his long shower disrupting the household.
"Oh, don't bother!" said Phil as he finished with the last of the plates. "You don't think the others have done that to me before? I call it, just desserts! Except it was before breakfast so…" The man paused to think. "Maybe it would be more like, just muffins… or something? They're just a failed cupcake, after all. No frosting but they'll keep ya regular if you eat enough of them!" He turned to see how down his grandson was, and gave him a pat on the head. "Wait, weren't you looking for the paper?" He asked, trying to change the subject back to what it was originally. "I know your Grandma was hootin' and hollering about something…" He recalled, while he scratched the side of his face. "Brought your parents into it, then they left. I think they were in the parlor room… maybe check there?"
"Alright." Arnold smiled, before running out of the kitchen and into the living room.
Though he searched high and low, the newspaper was still nowhere in sight. "Maybe they took it with them… wherever they went." It seemed like recently; his parents were always out doing something. It felt weird, seeing as how they practically glued themselves to the boarding house all summer long but understood that even they probably were getting stir crazy, with him in school, and all.
Phil walked into the living room, and leaned up against the doorway. "Not here either, aye?"
Arnold shook his head. "No…"
"Needing it for school, or something?" Phil asked, raising his eyebrow on how focused his grandson was on finding this thing. He then crossed his arms, and gave Arnold a stern look. "Wasn't supposed to be for a project, was it? You know doing stuff like this last minute isn't good!"
"Not… exactly." He replied, tossing around the word project in his mind and finding it actually rather fitting for the situation. "Nothing for school, anyway. Think of it more like… a personal project."
"Personal project, huh?" Phil wet his lips. "Well, say no more!" He laughed, throwing his arms up in the air. "I won't pry into your business any further! You want a quarter for the machine down the block to get a fresh one?"
Seeing how helpful his grandpa was trying to be, caused Arnold to laugh. "No thanks, Grandpa. I'll be okay." He smiled, heading on toward the front door.
Proceeding to in reach into his pocket, Phil pulled out his wallet anyway. "Well, do me favor and pick up some milk on your way back. We're fresh out!" He said, handing Arnold a few dollar bills. "And pick me up a new newspaper! I never even got to get my hands dirty with the fresh ink!"
Arnold gave the old man a funny look, then shook his head. "I won't be gone long." He informed, before opening the front door and stepping out.
The fresh air and crisp autumn breeze felt nice on the Arnold's face. He wondered for a brief moment, if maybe his parent's and grandmother were also enjoying today's weather, but hurried off in the direction of Harold's house as he remembered his goal. It was pretty unorthodox for Arnold to ask Harold for a favor, and he wasn't even really sure Harold would help him but he knew he at least had to try.
As he rounded the corner, he could see the Berman residence in the distance, however… Harold was already outside with another guest. A few steps later, he had a better view of this guest, which caused his stomach to sink.
"I told you!" Harold cried out. "I did exactly as you said! They're in my room right now!"
"Do you think I'm stupid?" Ludwig's voice snarled back. "Or are you trying to call me a liar?"
Arnold rushed on over, to find out exactly what was going on. As he skidded to a stop, both older boys took notice of him.
"Tell him, Arnold!" Harold pleaded, his face red. "I went into the stupid haunted factory last night, and got the stash! Arnold knows, he saw it too!"
Ludwig wrinkled his nose, as he looked down at the intruder. "Oh yeah?"
"It's true, Ludwig." Arnold confirmed, crossing his arms, and standing his ground next to Harold. "He showed us right after he got it."
The bully let out a gruff laugh, then reached over his shoulder, and pulled off his backpack. "If there's one thing I hate, it's being lied to…" He mumbled to himself, as he unzipped the bag. "and here I was, being nice and giving you the opportunity to man up but instead, you have your wimpy little friend backing up your lie." Ludwig then pulled out a stack of magazines. "Tell me again, how these are upstairs in your room…" He asked, before throwing them down on Harold's stoop, right in front of his feet.
Confused, Harold knelt down and picked them up, his knees shaking as he did so. "But… but! This doesn't make any sense!"
"Hold on, Ludwig." spoke Arnold, in an authoritative voice. He could see that the kid seemed genuinely angry, and not just in the usual bully type of way. "Are you saying that these specific magazines, are the ones you hid?"
Ludwig gave Arnold a sharp look, before shoving him backwards, causing the boy to stumble a few feet into Harold's garbage cans. "That's what I'm saying, dog-breath!"
"But… but!" Harold repeated, his voice trembling as he filled through the volumes. "But…!"
"Look…" Arnold steadied himself, patiently. "There has to be some sort of misunderstanding, then." He dusted himself off, and walked back over to stand next to his crumbling friend. "Harold did go inside the factory, and he did find magazines just like these…" His face became puzzled. "If the ones Harold found weren't the ones you hid then… whose were they?"
"Hell, if I know!" Ludwig shouted, before snatching back the magazines and shoving them back into his backpack. "All I DO know, is that we had a deal and Harold failed to uphold his half!" He gave them both a sinister look. "So, you know what that means, dont'cha?"
Fully understanding what this meant, Harold's eyes welled up with tears. He had tried so hard, and had actually succeeded in finding the treasure! How could this happen? None of it made any sense, and now his mother was going to come home at any minute! "But you can't!" He finally shouted. "I did what you said! I found the stash!" Harold fell to his knees and let his tears begin to fall. "I don't know how it could be the wrong one! This is so confusing! You can't tell my Mom! Please!"
Laughing, Ludwig shook his head at the pitiful display. "And to think, a sniveling baby like you is somehow older than me? Pathetic!"
"Go ahead." Arnold demanded, gaining their attention once more. "Tell Harold's mom all you want!"
"WHAT?!" Harold cried, shocked.
"I was there, and so was plenty of our friends." He continued, decisively. "We all know where Harold was last night, and we'll all back him up."
"So…" Ludwig tapped his foot, looking amused. "You're going to tell his mom that he broke into someone's private property? And a dangerous place, at that. I'm sure that will smooth over just nicely."
"ARNOLD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Harold stood up, and grabbed onto his friend. "ARE YOU CRAZY?!"
Still, Arnold wasn't fazed. "No, because Harold was at my house all night. Right Harold?"
Blinking, Harold didn't let go. "R-right."
"And we've never seen those magazines ever in our life, right, Harold?" Arnold insisted, looking his friend straight in the face.
After a few more blinks, the implication was finally setting itself in. "Right!" Harold chorused, letting Arnold go, and standing tall.
"And who is she going to believe?" asked Arnold, now staring down Ludwig, who still seemed rather entertained. "Harold and his close friends? Or someone she's never even met?"
"True, very true." Ludwig nodded, in agreeance. "However, you did just tell me that you managed to find someone's stash, and you're holding it up in your bedroom, right?" He asked, with a smug smile. "I may not be able to play mine off as yours, but I'm sure if I told her that you stole some… I bet she'd have no problem tossing your room to find it."
Harold's face went white, and he became speechless. Looking over at the trash cans, he knew everything could have been avoided, if he had just kept his backpack hidden under the garbage bag. The hole he was standing in, just somehow kept getting deeper and deeper, by his own two hands.
"Then I'll tell her they're mine." Arnold stated boldly, closing his eyes, and clenching his fists tightly. "I'll say he was holding them… For me."
"Arnold! You can't!" Harold shouted, feeling sorry for this mess he had created.
"Yes, I can." The blond boy breathed, calmly. He then opened his eyes and looked at Ludwig's stone-cold expression. "What's the worse that can happen? A phone call home?" He then chuckled at the thought. "Somehow… I don't think you'll be getting the type of reaction from my family, as you would from Harold's."
The trio became silent; each contemplating the situation at hand, and what it meant for them individually.
Suddenly, a laugh erupted from Ludwig's mouth, startling the other two. "Oh! This is funny! Just too funny!" His laugh continued, causing him to clutch his side in pain. Once his episode was over, the young man wiped away his tears of hilarity, and walked over to Arnold, placing his large hand on the boy's narrow shoulder. "I gotta hand it to you, Football face. You're ballsy!" He then turned to Harold. "You may have failed your end of the deal, but your friend here has proven himself far more of a man than you could ever be." He sneered, letting go over Arnold and stepping up on Harold's stoop to become eye level with him. "I guess we can say, he cleared the deal for you."
"So then, this is over?" asked Arnold, still feeling strong and holding his ground to support his friend in need. "You won't tell his mom?"
Ludwig continued to stare down Harold for another second, before shrugging and stepping down. "Sure, I've had my laugh." He began to slowly walk away from the two, then abruptly stopped. "But I am curious… where did you find them?"
"In the dead guy's office." Harold replied, looking to Arnold for confirmation, to make sure he was remembering correctly. "Hidden behind a safe, or something."
"Gross." Ludwig replied, before walking off. "Enjoy your treasure, Fat boy!"
The two friends watched quietly, as the bully walked off and out of sight. Neither really knew what to say, so it was up to Arnold to break the silence, and speak his intent.
"Hey, Harold?" He started, casually. "Does your cousin still work for events around town?"
"You mean Furbo?" Harold cocked his eyebrow, and looked over at his friend. "Yeah, why?"
"Think maybe you could get me two tickets to something coming up?" Arnold continued, still staring off into the street, with immense hope that this was going to play out in his favor. With the stunt he just pulled, there was no way Harold could refuse him. "Maybe something, loud and exciting?"
Harold placed a curled hand to his lips, in thought. "You mean like Wrestle Mania?"
Arnold's eyes lit up, "Yes!" He shouted, quickly spinning around, and facing a startled Harold. "That's perfect!"
"Hey!" Harold took a step back, giving them some distance. "I still have to ask him, to make sure its okay…" He replied, giving Arnold an odd look. "But I didn't think you were into stuff like that." No sooner did those words left him, a dim lightbulb began to flash in the teen's mind, causing his lips to curl into a goofy smile. "Ohhhh!"
Feeling as though he had been found out, Arnold's face turned pink with embarrassment. He turned around, and quietly walked down the steps, avoiding Harold's gaze.
"I get it!" Harold laughed. "Man, I thought it was weird that you'd want tickets for something like that, but they're not for you at all! Little Awnold wants to take his girlfwend out on a date! Ahaha!"
"When is it, and how soon can you ask him?" Arnold asked, feeling a bit humiliated, but ignoring his friend's mockery.
Letting his giddiness subside, Harold gave the question some thought. "I don't know. Sometime next month, I think. I'll give him a call tomorrow after school. Sunday night is usually pretty busy for him, so I doubt he'd answer if I called him now."
Arnold breathed in a nervous sigh. "Alright…" He whispered, feeling a weird mix of emotions. It seemed that despite feeling relieved that Harold wasn't being difficult, this only began to make the reality of his confession, weigh a little more seriously. He then turned to face his friend, wearing his heart on his sleeve. "And keep this a secret, okay?" He waited for Harold to object, or even question him, but when he didn't, Arnold revealed a bashful smile. "A secret between men."
Harold nodded, and stuck out his fist for a bump. "Got it. A secret between men."