Heh, I sort of forgot to put the disclaimer on the first part. So, here it is…

I DO NOT OWN HEY ARNOLD!!! DON'T SUE ME!!! (I don't have any money anyway so you wouldn't get much out of it if you did)

Return To Innocence

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Sky blue.

My favorite color, hands down. The color of my little blue hat. Also, the only thing I really have to remember my parents by. Although I've outgrown the hat given to me as an infant, I still wear it. I wouldn't be Arnold if I didn't. it's part of my personality, you could say. As laughable as it must be to you, imaging me, a 14 year old boy walking around with a tiny baseball hat on, it's not to me. I know it's immature, but I just can't bare to part with it. Being a freshman in high school has put a little pressure on me to "ditch" the little blue hat I've grown to love and adore, but I triumph over peer pressure… and I'm proud because of that.

Peer pressure.

Ugh, that ugly subject. There is nothing more degrading to someone's image than following the crowd. Being like everyone else. Being cool. HA! Have you ever heard something so ludicrous? It's always been my experience that the people who "follow the crowd" are the people just trying to get recognized, to fit in. Of course, that's obvious, but… I see it as lowing your standards to someone else's and thereby making yourself look gullible, naïve, and just plain… stupid. It looks poorly on their values, and I can't, for the life of me, understand why someone would intentionally want to look that way. It's being a "poser", and I look down on that. It's fake. Case in point, Ronda.

Ronda Wellington Lloyd.

…She's one of the poorest examples of individuality I have EVER seen in my young life. She follows what ever magazines like "Vogue" tell her to. She thinks that material is all that matters, when in fact, it is the one thing that NEVER matters… at least to me. I, for instance, don't feel I need to prove anything by buying the latest trendy clothes or adopting a new personality just so people will see what I am… because when you act like that, all you are is a chump. A trendy, no-mind-of-your-own, chump.

I can be harsh, but it's only how I feel…

Feelings.

Emotions.

A silent tribute to the heart. THESE are the things that matter….

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"Hey Arnold, hey Arnold, hey Arnold, he-" I sleepily turn off my alarm clock. Lazy mornings have somehow taken over my life since entering teen-hood. I'm not sure when it happened, but somewhere in turning 13 I acquired the need for an extra 3 hours of sleep… that I never get.

I roll over in bed and bury my face into my pillow. I know I have to get up, but in all honesty I could care less about going to first period in my sleep-deprived state. Every morning there is always the internal battle of whether I should stay in bed, call in sick, and sleep the day away, or suck it up, get up, and go face the new school day. But then, always then, I'd realize that it would be an ill-conceived decision on my part to stay home. Curse my responsibility! Staying home and missing classes would also get me on the bad side of my teachers.

Like Mr. Miller, my English teacher… who might be related to Hitler, but I'm not sure. No, not literally, but he DOES seem to have an evilness to him. Then again, English teachers always seem to have an evilness to them.

There's something I just don't like about the man. That's odd, seeing as though I never fail to like all my teachers. No matter what they do, no matter what anyone else has to say about them, I always see the good in them. It's probably a fault of mine.

I see that they're simply people trying to educate the youth of America.

The same youth that hates them by instinct.

There's a knock at my door, but I already know who it is. "Hey, short man, it's 7, you awake yet?" Grandpa asks, as is the ritual. I always mumble a reply I KNOW he can't understand, but he chuckles anyway and says, "Ok, see ya' downstairs for breakfast, then."

Grandpa. What would I do without him? He's like the father I've never had, or at least, can't remember. He IS my father on some level and I couldn't ask for a better substitute to the real thing. He and Grandma bring something to my life that I don't understand now, but I will when I get older… when I don't have them around anymore…

Let's hope that doesn't happen for a while.

Ah, but I must get up now; I must face the morning with squinted, sleep-deprived eyes, and get started with the usual morning rituals… the sleepy brushing of the teeth… the half awake, half asleep shower…

After completely redressing, and cleaning up my image for the new day, I never fail to miss breakfast and be forced to eat only a piece of grandma's burnt toast on my way to the bus stop…

Assuming I'm not late for the bus.

"Great," today is a day I miss the bus. No biggie, all that means is a little trip down the block. I've always been thankful that I live relatively close to the schools I attend. On the other hand, how far away can you really get from the school when living in such a compact city as this? Ah, well today I get the privilege of walking to school on a rainy morning. Puddles in the street. A cold crisp feeling in the air.

Depressing.

Cloudy.

Yet, none the less beautiful. It's hard to tell if I ever really look at the bad side to anything, but that's just how I am... I love the rain. The way it feels as it trickles from the sky and hits you like small, soft, reminders that you're really alive. Not really a full-fledged rain, but merely a sprinkle here and there. Beautiful. I can't help but smile.

The city can be so dirty, though, it's terrible. The puddles of water on the street are no longer pure anymore… they're mixed with oil and dirt and trash left by the compulsive littering people we humans are. I step in a few and cringe. It's disgusting.

The dim light from the sky paints a false picture of evening, almost, over the city. It gives everything an ominous feel to them.

But…

Even the dingy walls of the old buildings and crud on the sidewalk can't take away from the breath-taking sight of light breaking through the endless sea of clouds. Beautiful.

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"Hey football face, that you?" I hear, calling out in the distance. Ah, Helga. The first person I see everyday, and the last person I think about before I sleep. She's what you would call "a paradox wrapped in an enigma" I'd say. She never ceases to amaze me every day… although she can be annoying at times, but that's just being honest.

"Yeah, it's me… I see you're late again. I'm guessing you missed the bus too?" I stop on the slick sidewalk and wait for her to catch up to me. She's tired, and her eyes seem to give the same sleep-deprived message as my own. She takes her time walking up to me and puts her hands in her jean pockets. Helga, the eternal tom-boy. She no longer wears the childish pink dress of her youth, but a baggy t-shirt and jeans. This too, makes me smile.

"No, I just like taking strolls on crappy, rainy, cloudy, cold, mornings," she says, heatedly. She glares at me through insincere eyes. She places her hands on her hips and waits for me to reply to her sarcastic remark… she just stands there, hair wet, clothes in disarray, and raises an eyebrow.

"Ok, I'll take that as a yes."

"You can take that as a hell yes." she says as we begin walking again. "God, and it had to be today, right? I mean, Miss Fletcher's gonna have a cow… see, we have this project to present and… oh, you do realize that since we're walking we're going to be at least 10 minutes late for school, right?" she asks, sarcastically trying to 'clear things up' for me.

"Yeah, but it's not that bad. I've been late before and all I get is a tardy. It's not the end of the world," I say, with a smile.

After a pause she frowns and asks, "Are you mocking me?"

"Certainly not," I reply, light-heartedly. She mumbles something under her breath and folds her arms across her chest. I can only imagine what is going through her mind… the insults that are on the tip of her tongue. I laugh inwardly, I can already tell what she's going to say.

"Just shut up and walk, football head."

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Hehe, there's chapter 2. Hmm, it's kind of hard to start a story this way, but I assure you it will make more sense as I go along… I hope you're enjoying it so far.