Turning Tides
Chapter 1: Hump Day
"Hey, Arnold...Hey, Arnold...Hey, Arnold..." The alarm clock chimed at 7:00am and Arnold knew it was time to get up. He shuffled out of bed, preparing to get dressed, when he noticed that his homework papers from last night had been blown all over the room from the open window. "Oh, no..." He hurried to pick them all up and get them back in the right order, remembering that the papers were a compilation of two 500 word essays he'd been working on that had to be turned in today. He quickly got them in the right order and put them in his backpack, along with his books. Then he threw on some clothes and opened the door to go downstairs. But he failed to see Abner sleeping on the step right in front of his door, and he tripped over him! The animal squealed horrendously and both pet and boy tumbled down the stairs and landed at the bottom with a large thud. Arnold sucked in a deep breath, grabbing his ankle. Then he muttered something as he pulled back his pant leg. That's gonna start swelling, he thought. Abner had already run off squealing, and Arnold heard the distinctive sound of his grandma's running footsteps. When he saw her burst through the door of her and grandpa's room, he wasn't surprised to see her dressed in a WWII officers uniform, fully armed and ready for battle. "The Germans are attacking!! Quick now, to the bomb shelter!" And she sped off down the hall and out of sight. Arnold sighed and carefully got back to his feet. He was almost glad grandma hadn't seen that he'd hurt himself, she probably would have gone into her Civil War Surgeon mode again and try to amputate his leg or something! Arnold proceeded down the hall carefully, easing his right foot with each step. Hopefully his grandpa wouldn't notice either, or any of the boarders.
"Hey, Arnold. When do I get your help painting our room? It's been two weeks and still no paint on the walls". The voice of Mr. Kokoshka broke into Arnold's thoughts and he turned around to see the man with his head sticking out the doorway of his room. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kokoshka. I know I promised to help you paint your room, I've just had a lot of schoolwork because school's almost over for the summer". "But I don't want to have to wait until summer to paint my room-" "I know, I know. I'll help you sometime this week, I promise". "How about today?" "I don't know, I'll see". "Just make sure you get time this week, ok?" Shouted the boarder as Arnold continued down the hall, ignoring the pain in his ankle as he tried to walk normally. He nearly fell down the other stairs on his way to the kitchen and dropped his backpack, which came open somehow, spilling most of its contents. Arnold grumbled under his breath as he hurried to gather all his papers and supplies back into his bag, then went to the kitchen. The table had milk and soggy cereal spilled at every seat, a pile of dishes in the sink, and a filthy un-swept floor and dirty counters. When Arnold looked in the cereal cabinet and pulled out the only box left, it had three pieces of cereal in it, and nothing more. Oh well, I can just have toast, he thought, pulling out a loaf of bread and sticking a few slices in the toaster. While he waited he cleaned the kitchen a little, wiping the table and counters at least, and he was about to reach for the broom when there was a great crash outside. He looked out the window and saw that his grandpa had backed up into the garbage cans with the car. Arnold groaned, he knew what was coming. "Arnold, can you get those??" Came his grandpa's voice, and Arnold waved to him in response, saying he'd get it before he left. He watched his grandpa drive away waving his thanks. Arnold went outside and scooped up the trash back into the can. "What the-!!" When he heard someone shout angrily from inside, he looked up at the window and saw smoke! "My toast!" He exclaimed, running back into the house. The kitchen was full of smoke and a bunch of the boarders were waving the smoke out and yelling at each other, trying to figure out whose fault it was. Arnold tried to say something, but no one heard him. "It's my fault, I left it in the toaster on accident!" He yelled. He'd forgotten that the toaster no longer popped on its own, it had to be looked after until the toast was done. "Arnold, you know the toaster doesn't work". Said Mr. Green, who had the toaster tipped over and was dumping the burnt slits of bread onto a paper plate. Suddenly the clock chimed 7:30am. "My bus!" Arnold grabbed one of the burnt pieces of toast and ran out the door and down the street, putting most of his strength into his one unhurt leg. He could see the bus at the corner, closing its door and starting to leave. "No! Wait!!" He yelled, running after it, but no one heard him. "Hey, stop the bus!!" When he stepped down into his right leg there was a sharp pain and he collapsed on the sidewalk. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to stop the bus now. He checked his ankle and saw that it had indeed swelled a lot, almost more than he'd expected. Arnold scowled for a moment, and then slammed his fist down on the pavement in anger. Once he'd gotten back to his feet he was able to hail a cab and get to school just in time, but with no lunch money. The high school building was a large, towering brick building. The front lawn was littered with people heading to class when Arnold got there, so he knew he wasn't late. He paid the cabby and checked his watch, just in time. The bell rang and he limped to class, biting down on his tongue to hold back the pain in his ankle and trying to keep a straight face. He took a seat at his desk and sighed deeply. He'd dropped his charred breakfast while chasing the bus and now he could feel his stomach growling. Gerald sat down in the desk across the isle from Arnold and noticed the distressed look on his friend's face. "Hey, man. Havin' a rough day?" "Yeah". "Awh, cheer up, Arnold. Hey, I hear their serving tapioca in the cafeteria today". Arnold moaned inwardly, that just made his hunger seem even worse, no way was he going to be able to wait till lunch now. But he couldn't tell his friend that. After all, Gerald was just trying to cheer him up. So he cast his buddy an anticipating smile instead.
The rest of the morning didn't go very well, though. He was a freshman in high school now, which made him all the more thankful that the school year was almost through. Being his first year in high school, he was looking forward to the three month brake. But when he turned in his essay for his history class, the teacher flunked him because there was a paper missing. Arnold tried to explain about the window and asked permission to bring the other paper tomorrow, but the teacher simply could not be reasoned with. Arnold couldn't believe what was happening; he'd worked on that essay for two weeks! And the teacher flunked him for one missing paper! He landed heavily into the chair at his desk, fighting a scowl. This is so unfair, he thought. But he eventually let it pass, it was just one F, he didn't usually get bad grades and he knew his grandpa wouldn't mind once he'd explain what happened. But deep down inside, Arnold was still slightly peeved. And to make matters worse, there was a surprise pop quiz in his algebra class, and Arnold had a hard time concentrating because of his ankle. He fretted over the F he just got and was so nervous about flunking the pop quiz that he was almost certain he would. "Time". Said the teacher, but Arnold looked at his watch and saw that they still had five minutes left. The teacher started collecting the papers, and when he finally noticed that Arnold had raised his hand, he asked what it was. "Um, I think we still have five minutes left". Arnold said simply. "Are you assuming that I don't know how long a one-hour essay should take? It has been a full hour and your time is up. If your paper isn't completed it is not my problem". And he continued to collect papers. Arnold could feel an anger smoldering inside, why did teachers have to be so indignant. He leaned foreword with his elbows on the desk and put his head in his hands. He didn't like to think these rebellious thoughts, it wasn't right, and it made him feel terrible. But he just couldn't help it. This just isn't my day, he thought with defeat. But maybe it isn't really their day either, he thought in regards to the teachers who'd successfully contributed to his already rotten day.
Arnold walked beside Gerald to his locker, trying to hide the limp but not succeeding in the best way. "Hey, Arnold, somethin' wrong with your leg?" "Yeah, I fell down the stairs this morning". Gerald cringed. "Ouch, man. You tell your grandparents or something?" When Arnold shook his head, Gerald gave him a look of confusion. "Why not?" "It's not a big deal, it doesn't hurt or anything," he lied, "I'll be fine". "Whatever you say". It was then that they reached their lockers and were surprised to find something they hadn't expected. Someone had used spray paint to write obscenities all over a couple people's lockers, including Arnolds. He gave a loud grown. "Man, oh man, oh man. Somebody stooped pretty low this time". Said Gerald. People around the hall and anyone who saw laughed or snickered and pointed, and a slightly dark, angered look flashed across Arnold's features. Who in the world would be so rotten, he thought, looking around to see if he could spot someone he knew, or someone who looked guilty. His first accusation was for Helga, who'd always picked on him, but he knew better. Sure, she was a jerk, but she never used language and would never stoop this low. Arnold opened his locker door and put his books inside. "Let's get going".
Chapter 1: Hump Day
"Hey, Arnold...Hey, Arnold...Hey, Arnold..." The alarm clock chimed at 7:00am and Arnold knew it was time to get up. He shuffled out of bed, preparing to get dressed, when he noticed that his homework papers from last night had been blown all over the room from the open window. "Oh, no..." He hurried to pick them all up and get them back in the right order, remembering that the papers were a compilation of two 500 word essays he'd been working on that had to be turned in today. He quickly got them in the right order and put them in his backpack, along with his books. Then he threw on some clothes and opened the door to go downstairs. But he failed to see Abner sleeping on the step right in front of his door, and he tripped over him! The animal squealed horrendously and both pet and boy tumbled down the stairs and landed at the bottom with a large thud. Arnold sucked in a deep breath, grabbing his ankle. Then he muttered something as he pulled back his pant leg. That's gonna start swelling, he thought. Abner had already run off squealing, and Arnold heard the distinctive sound of his grandma's running footsteps. When he saw her burst through the door of her and grandpa's room, he wasn't surprised to see her dressed in a WWII officers uniform, fully armed and ready for battle. "The Germans are attacking!! Quick now, to the bomb shelter!" And she sped off down the hall and out of sight. Arnold sighed and carefully got back to his feet. He was almost glad grandma hadn't seen that he'd hurt himself, she probably would have gone into her Civil War Surgeon mode again and try to amputate his leg or something! Arnold proceeded down the hall carefully, easing his right foot with each step. Hopefully his grandpa wouldn't notice either, or any of the boarders.
"Hey, Arnold. When do I get your help painting our room? It's been two weeks and still no paint on the walls". The voice of Mr. Kokoshka broke into Arnold's thoughts and he turned around to see the man with his head sticking out the doorway of his room. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kokoshka. I know I promised to help you paint your room, I've just had a lot of schoolwork because school's almost over for the summer". "But I don't want to have to wait until summer to paint my room-" "I know, I know. I'll help you sometime this week, I promise". "How about today?" "I don't know, I'll see". "Just make sure you get time this week, ok?" Shouted the boarder as Arnold continued down the hall, ignoring the pain in his ankle as he tried to walk normally. He nearly fell down the other stairs on his way to the kitchen and dropped his backpack, which came open somehow, spilling most of its contents. Arnold grumbled under his breath as he hurried to gather all his papers and supplies back into his bag, then went to the kitchen. The table had milk and soggy cereal spilled at every seat, a pile of dishes in the sink, and a filthy un-swept floor and dirty counters. When Arnold looked in the cereal cabinet and pulled out the only box left, it had three pieces of cereal in it, and nothing more. Oh well, I can just have toast, he thought, pulling out a loaf of bread and sticking a few slices in the toaster. While he waited he cleaned the kitchen a little, wiping the table and counters at least, and he was about to reach for the broom when there was a great crash outside. He looked out the window and saw that his grandpa had backed up into the garbage cans with the car. Arnold groaned, he knew what was coming. "Arnold, can you get those??" Came his grandpa's voice, and Arnold waved to him in response, saying he'd get it before he left. He watched his grandpa drive away waving his thanks. Arnold went outside and scooped up the trash back into the can. "What the-!!" When he heard someone shout angrily from inside, he looked up at the window and saw smoke! "My toast!" He exclaimed, running back into the house. The kitchen was full of smoke and a bunch of the boarders were waving the smoke out and yelling at each other, trying to figure out whose fault it was. Arnold tried to say something, but no one heard him. "It's my fault, I left it in the toaster on accident!" He yelled. He'd forgotten that the toaster no longer popped on its own, it had to be looked after until the toast was done. "Arnold, you know the toaster doesn't work". Said Mr. Green, who had the toaster tipped over and was dumping the burnt slits of bread onto a paper plate. Suddenly the clock chimed 7:30am. "My bus!" Arnold grabbed one of the burnt pieces of toast and ran out the door and down the street, putting most of his strength into his one unhurt leg. He could see the bus at the corner, closing its door and starting to leave. "No! Wait!!" He yelled, running after it, but no one heard him. "Hey, stop the bus!!" When he stepped down into his right leg there was a sharp pain and he collapsed on the sidewalk. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to stop the bus now. He checked his ankle and saw that it had indeed swelled a lot, almost more than he'd expected. Arnold scowled for a moment, and then slammed his fist down on the pavement in anger. Once he'd gotten back to his feet he was able to hail a cab and get to school just in time, but with no lunch money. The high school building was a large, towering brick building. The front lawn was littered with people heading to class when Arnold got there, so he knew he wasn't late. He paid the cabby and checked his watch, just in time. The bell rang and he limped to class, biting down on his tongue to hold back the pain in his ankle and trying to keep a straight face. He took a seat at his desk and sighed deeply. He'd dropped his charred breakfast while chasing the bus and now he could feel his stomach growling. Gerald sat down in the desk across the isle from Arnold and noticed the distressed look on his friend's face. "Hey, man. Havin' a rough day?" "Yeah". "Awh, cheer up, Arnold. Hey, I hear their serving tapioca in the cafeteria today". Arnold moaned inwardly, that just made his hunger seem even worse, no way was he going to be able to wait till lunch now. But he couldn't tell his friend that. After all, Gerald was just trying to cheer him up. So he cast his buddy an anticipating smile instead.
The rest of the morning didn't go very well, though. He was a freshman in high school now, which made him all the more thankful that the school year was almost through. Being his first year in high school, he was looking forward to the three month brake. But when he turned in his essay for his history class, the teacher flunked him because there was a paper missing. Arnold tried to explain about the window and asked permission to bring the other paper tomorrow, but the teacher simply could not be reasoned with. Arnold couldn't believe what was happening; he'd worked on that essay for two weeks! And the teacher flunked him for one missing paper! He landed heavily into the chair at his desk, fighting a scowl. This is so unfair, he thought. But he eventually let it pass, it was just one F, he didn't usually get bad grades and he knew his grandpa wouldn't mind once he'd explain what happened. But deep down inside, Arnold was still slightly peeved. And to make matters worse, there was a surprise pop quiz in his algebra class, and Arnold had a hard time concentrating because of his ankle. He fretted over the F he just got and was so nervous about flunking the pop quiz that he was almost certain he would. "Time". Said the teacher, but Arnold looked at his watch and saw that they still had five minutes left. The teacher started collecting the papers, and when he finally noticed that Arnold had raised his hand, he asked what it was. "Um, I think we still have five minutes left". Arnold said simply. "Are you assuming that I don't know how long a one-hour essay should take? It has been a full hour and your time is up. If your paper isn't completed it is not my problem". And he continued to collect papers. Arnold could feel an anger smoldering inside, why did teachers have to be so indignant. He leaned foreword with his elbows on the desk and put his head in his hands. He didn't like to think these rebellious thoughts, it wasn't right, and it made him feel terrible. But he just couldn't help it. This just isn't my day, he thought with defeat. But maybe it isn't really their day either, he thought in regards to the teachers who'd successfully contributed to his already rotten day.
Arnold walked beside Gerald to his locker, trying to hide the limp but not succeeding in the best way. "Hey, Arnold, somethin' wrong with your leg?" "Yeah, I fell down the stairs this morning". Gerald cringed. "Ouch, man. You tell your grandparents or something?" When Arnold shook his head, Gerald gave him a look of confusion. "Why not?" "It's not a big deal, it doesn't hurt or anything," he lied, "I'll be fine". "Whatever you say". It was then that they reached their lockers and were surprised to find something they hadn't expected. Someone had used spray paint to write obscenities all over a couple people's lockers, including Arnolds. He gave a loud grown. "Man, oh man, oh man. Somebody stooped pretty low this time". Said Gerald. People around the hall and anyone who saw laughed or snickered and pointed, and a slightly dark, angered look flashed across Arnold's features. Who in the world would be so rotten, he thought, looking around to see if he could spot someone he knew, or someone who looked guilty. His first accusation was for Helga, who'd always picked on him, but he knew better. Sure, she was a jerk, but she never used language and would never stoop this low. Arnold opened his locker door and put his books inside. "Let's get going".