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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History class. Something I used to look forward to, but now… now things have changed. I look quietly at Mr. Reiker and observe him in his state of grading the papers from last week's quiz. Yeah, he came back. It seemed uneventful, really, one day he was gone, the next he was back. You would think that with all the noise people made about his sudden--and short--disappearance they would have been at least a little interested in where he was. But, oddly enough, absolutely no one came to him asking. No one. Even I, though I admit I knew where he was, didn't say anything to him. Perhaps I thought it was too early to say anything, considering the 'argument' he and I engaged in. That too hasn't been mentioned. I tear my eyes away from Reiker for a moment to look at Phoebe. She sits there, quietly, doing some assignment I know nothing about. Sometimes I look at her and wonder why she's so focused. She's like an old soul trapped in the awkward body of a 14-year-old. Too smart, and too worldly for her age, and sometimes for her own good. Sadly I didn't really keep that well in touch with the small girl. I'm not sure even now why that is, but it is. Part of me wants to blame Gerald for it, but I know somehow that's unfair. True, Gerald feels 'weird'--as he puts it--around the frail Asian girl, but… maybe Phoebe and I just weren't meant to be long-term friends. Ha ha, funny I should say that. I mean, look at Helga and I. Two people who were NEVER even meant to get along, and now we're almost as close as Gerald and I, although she would never want to admit that. To Helga, treating me the way she does must be like a game. She loves to play it, trying at every opportunity she has to make me feel miserable… but lately it's like whatever she says it doesn't matter. No, no, not in bad way, in an incredibly good way. She tries her insults, she tries to hurt me, but she can't. Her words, they don't have the same sting they once did.

"Arnold?" speaks a small voice, and I find that I have just been staring awkwardly at Phoebe while in thought. She looks strangely at me, tilting her head to the side and frowning just a little, "Are you feeling well?" she questions in her most innocent voice.

"Fine," I say shortly, turning quickly to shuffle the disorderly papers on my desk.

"You know, I've been thinking," she begins, scooting her desk a bit closer to mine, "You do seem to be acting… well, not like yourself, Arnold. Before you used to be--pardon my honesty--a good student, but lately you've been, well, different. Changed. Even Helga sees it." she stops to look quickly at Reiker's desk, "Are you sure nothing's bothering you?"

"Nothing," I lie. Again, I'm bothered by the phrase 'even Helga sees it'. Sees what? "I've just been really involved with this English project with Helga and-"

"Charles, yes, Helga's told me all about it." she finishes. Suddenly I'm frightened and can feel my hands grow clammy and cold. Does Phoebe really know everything about what's been going on at Charlie's?

"What does Helga tell you?" I inquire, scooting my desk closer to her.

"Uh, well," she stutters, trying to find the right way to start, "She says that it's really a time-consuming project," she pauses, searching my face for something. I did notice the way she said consuming. Is she hinting at something? Yes, I admit that this IS a consuming thing. Ever since I decided to work on this project, it's like my whole life revolves around Helga and Charlie and his 'weird' family life. Or, perhaps, I'm merely imaging her emphasis on the word because my own mind is emphasizing it, "She also says that Charles is a really nice boy, he's quiet, but he's a nice kid." she pauses again as a distressing look forms on her face, "Lately though, she hasn't been wanting to go over. She won't tell me why--that's Helga for you--but you know, Arnold, I'm kind of concerned. It could be nothing, though, as Helga tends to be a dramatic person on occasion, but still… it seems funny to have such an extreme change in mood over the course of a few weeks. I bet you've noticed though," she says with a smile. After looking at me for a few quiet moments she starts again, "You know, Helga told me something the other day," she looks down, "though I probably should not be relaying this to you."

"What is it?" I ask, leaning closer to her.

A small smile forms on her lips, "She thinks Charles might be interested in her. Well, she didn't exactly tell me in so many words, but I felt she definitely hinted at it. Just the way she talks about him sometimes, it's like he really cares about her… the things he does for her. Anyway, I figured that since you were around them you could tell me once and for all if maybe there is something between the two."

"No, I don't think so," I answer quickly.

"Are you sure?" she questions again, frowning a little.

"Absolutely."

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"Is there something between you and Charlie?" I question Helga as we sit at the lunch table across from Gerald and Roxanne--which are too interested in each other to pay attention to our little conversation.

"No," she almost laughs, "Yeah, Charles Manson and me. Are you kidding?"

"Well, I just--never mind."

"Ok," she shrugs, picking at her cafeteria food with her mangled plastic fork, damaged slightly from Helga's persistent chewing on it. "Is there something between YOU and Charlie?" she questions me back with a playful smile.

"No, what?"

"See, that's how it felt when you asked me." she states raising her head--turning up her nose to me-- and looking down to me, "What a stupid question, huh?" she says, raising her eyebrows, signaling to me that the conversation--at least on that topic--was over.

"You know, Arnold, I'm a little tired of talking about Charlie," Roxanne cuts in with her overly feminine voice. "He's a moron and definitely NOT a good topic for discussion."

"Why is that?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest. How dare she say such a mean-spirited thing, considering what Charlie and she have gone through.

"Well," she shrugs, "he's just weird and I'm a little tried of talking about him, ok?" she eyes me. Clearly, she knows she has no reason for how she feels and she's just trying to cover it up.

"Well, YOU'RE a little weird," Helga spits back, suddenly standing up from the table. "Eh, see you later," she says to me as she walks away. What was that about?

Of course, I wouldn't just let her stomp off like that, right? I get up and try somewhat to follow her. Suddenly, though, I realize that trying to talk to her when she's angry never works out. It would simply be a waste of my time, and I don't need to deal with that right now. But, already up and out of my seat, I decide to walk around a bit.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Charlie himself, sitting alone at a nearby table. He doesn't seem to realize I'm there, or maybe he does and simply refuses to acknowledge my existence. Well, I'm not about to let him get away with that.

"Hey," I begin quickly, sitting myself down in front of him, uninvited.

"…Hi," he says in reply, almost stunned. He looks down to his food and shoves it away from him, "I'm not very hungry," he says, almost as an explanation for his actions and nothing more. He leans forward and stares mesmerized ahead of him.

"What are you looking at?" I question innocently, secretly dreading the thought that he might me staring that way at Helga. Yeah, so I'm a little paranoid. So what if what Phoebe said bothers me a little? Shouldn't it?

"You know, sometimes I think about her. Sometimes I wonder what things would be like if she and I were close like we were again." he pauses, thinking about his next string of words, "Ever since I talked to you about her I've been thinking. It's sad, really, but there's really nothing I can do."

I raise a hand in front of me, calling for a halt, "I'm going to have to stop you there. Who are we talking about?"

…and so he laughs at me…

His laughter, so sporadic in nature, almost sounds hallow and uneasy. I get this chill through me listening to his voice, it's so unlike him, so… someone else.

"Roxanne," he breaths, closing his eyes at the mention of her name.

"Why would you want to be close to someone so superficial, so snobby, so conceded-like?" I blurt before the subject of the conversation can fully register with me.

"Because," he says, "I care about her. Arnold, you can't judge someone based on what they're like on the outside. So what if someone acts a certain way?" he shrugs, "It says absolutely nothing about who they are on the inside. She's not like that, but she's always been like that."

"What do you mean? That doesn't make any sense."

"Yes it does. She's never been superficial, but she's always been like that. Pretending to be superficial. She likes to make people think she doesn't care about anything, but she does." he places his hands on the table in front of him. "That friend of yours seems to see it, why can't you?"

"I see that she's mean." I state, leaning in my chair. "Charlie, she's not the same person you think she is. She's heartless," should I tell him what she said about him? "She's mean-spirited, and rude. She really doesn't care about anything, or rather, anyone." I finish, shaking my head disappointedly.

"And if she's changed, could it be because of me?" he asks, genuinely--or so it seems--interested in my answer, not the least bit angry about my statement.

"You?"

"…If she's a different person, if she's no longer the Roxanne I knew, there's only one reason she's like that. Ok, so it's not me, then who else could it be?" he asks, glaring at me. Without a pause for my answer, he stands up and walks away. Charlie's not stupid, he couldn't be. What he's hinting at is something I bet no one would have thought twice about.

"Charlie!" I exclaim, disregarding totally people's stares.

He turns to look at me, an expression of confusion placed firmly on his face.

"What can I do?" I ask, "What is it that can fix this?"

He shrugs, "I don't know, what can?"

"Something, I know… something can." I say, animatedly moving my hands about.

In a spiteful tone I assume is unintended, he says, "Well, why don't you figure it out? You find a way to fix it, Arnold, you're good at that." Charlie then walks away, never once turning back to view the scene--the confused expressions on the onlookers' faces. Dead silence fills and room, and I find that the awkwardness is too much. I leave the cafeteria, deciding that maybe some alone-time would be good for me right now.

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An idea was born after my 'talk' with Charlie. Somehow, no matter my feelings on the subject of Helga and he, I had to make things better for him. Maybe not completely solve all his problems, but just enough so he's not so miserable. I have to do something… just… something…

And so I decide on a great plan--or so it seemed--for Charlie and Roxanne. I would ask Roxanne to come with me after school to Charlie's, assuming she didn't hate me enough to say no. Or, she could say no for other reasons. This is something I have to try, though, I do. I don't like Roxanne, but she can give Charlie something that no one else can: comfort. I think that somehow comfort is one thing Charlie longs for. How comforting can it be to live with a terrible father with questionable motives? And then his grandfather, Mr. Reiker? What kind of comfort does Charlie get knowing his family wants nothing to do with him. Excuse me, they want nothing to do with Charlie's father, but still… in avoiding the father they're also avoiding Charlie…

…someone in need of care…

…someone in need of love… and maybe, just maybe, Roxanne can provide the kind of love he's looking for. At least, I hope she can.

"Roxanne!" I yell as the last bell of the day rings. She stops in the hall in front of me, looking very confused as to why I would be talking to her. She frowns and folds her arms.

"What?" she spits rather rudely. She stands impatiently in front of me, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"Can I talk to you?"

"I'm late for the bus." she says flatly, obviously a no.

"Well, in case you've forgotten, I ride that same bus so technically we're both late. Can I walk you home instead?" I plead, anything to give us some time alone.

"Why?" she asks, suspicion clearly in her voice, "Why would you want to walk me home?"

"Oh, come on. I don't have any ulterior motives here, I just want to talk." I reply, rolling my eyes and shoving my hands into my pockets. "There's something important I need to discuss with you."

"Can't you tell me now?" she asks, raising her eyebrows in an attempt to intimidate me.

"No," I'm beginning to become impatient as well with her, "We need to talk alone." I stare almost angrily at her as she displays an expression of utter boredom. She looks around the hall, watching as all the other students rush and bump their way around her. Maybe she knows it's about Charlie, after all we were talking about him only hours before, and she also saw me conversing with him. She looks down for a second, fiddling uncomfortably with her hands.

"Is it really that important?" she asks one last time, searching my eyes for a way out of this situation I've created for her, "I mean, is it really necessary that I go with you?"

"Absolutely."

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See, I didn't take TOO long to get this next chapter out. Heh, anyway, I hope you enjoy it ;D