Within
A fanfic by Miss Matched and Baniigaaru
AKA: Whatever we decide to change our name to.
Disclamer: It's called FANfiction for a reason, folks. We only own this twisted little plot.
The clouds rumbled together as the children of P.S. 118 ran inside. Droplets fell on by one on the little boy's head. But the fact was, he wasn't a little boy anymore. Arnold, thirteen years old, dully noticed the fact that he was getting wet. But pictures stood in his mind, freezing him inside more than the winds outside. 'Ole P.S. 118. How thou hast harbored me through the years.' Arnold thought as he spied on the children. He was their age once. Once being the keyword. He wondered why he was even here.
"Yo, Arnold!" He heard a male voice behind him. He smiled and looked over his shoulder, "Gerald!" Then froze. Gerald glowed like a lantern. Or maybe one of those fireflies. Or possibly a Night-Light. Whatever it was, it made him shine like the moon.
"Hey, Arnold, are you okay?" Gerald shook his friend's shoulder, noticing the glazed look in Arnold's eyes.
"Huh? Oh yeah. Sorry." Arnold stared at Gerald's face for a moment then looked away.
"Are you sure you're okay, buddy?"
"Um, yeah." He stole a look at the Lantern named Gerald. "Just-just not getting enough sleep."
"Why are you even here?" Gerald gave a jerk of his head to the old building. Wartz had long since retired. A new principal by the name of Buttsavage worked there now.
"Reminiscing." Came the simple answer.
Gerald, now used to the 'long,' words his best friend used, shook his head. "Whatever you say, Arnold. C'mon, we're gonna be late to first period."
Arnold didn't say anything. He stole one last look at the school; the school he once went to, the one he grew up in, and turned his back. "Sure."
Two pairs of feet walked down the broken sidewalk, side by side, but their minds in completely different places. Their friendship was one that didn't need mutual thinking, just mutual respect and trust. The red, brick Bartlett High School building loomed ahead, looking even more fierce than usual today for Arnold. What would this day hold for him?
Gerald seemed to note his best friend's apprehension. "Come on, man." he clasped Arnold's shoulder. "First period's about to start, but tell me what's up eventually, 'k? I worry 'bout you. Sometimes I think that you think to much."
He sighed at his silent friend and turned away.
Unzipping his black leather jacket as he walked into the school building, Nick knew all eyes were on him. Typical, as he was a bit unpredictable, well, at least he'd heard someone refer to him like that, except not in such glowing terms. He rolled his eyes and blew a few stray dark hairs out of his vision. There, much better, he could see now. The faces that swam in front of his vision didn't surprise him. He had been seeing them every day for such a long time that it became
a non-event. It was something you gradually got used to. Though, in a way, you'd never get used to this kind of gift... more like getting used to your world revolving around it. The bad lighting in the school cast a yellowish glow in most places, while others were left in shadow. He laughed to himself, pitying the new "chosen" one at that moment. Normal annoyances like poor lighting could add volumes to exactly how frightening some faces looked. This new boy... if he was a boy, would have to learn which faces are too horrible to even look upon.
Nick knew these people already, keeping mental lists, noting changes. So much was on his mind that he always appeared to the normal world as disassociated, or even uncaring. Perhaps he was, maybe he wasn't, did it truly matter? He looked down at the yellow and red tiled floors as he walked down the hallway to his classroom. Passing another entrance to the school, Nick's head suddenly shot up. An old face, that football headed kid, but a new quality. Like when a TV has bad reception, and then when you wiggle the antenna, it's clear. That sort of difference. He almost glowed.
"I'll have to keep an eye on him." Nick thought to himself
Arnold tugged on his backpack strap. He looked at the tiles to avoid the people's faces. So many, he noticed with growing fear and horror as his stomach clenched, so many with tainted faces. He didn't look up when a girl bumped into him but when he heard her voice, he did.
"Arnold?"
"Lila?" Arnold stared at her face. There was a few cuts around her cheeks, bruises on her neck and her hand, which was outstretched to him, looked scarred. But even with the cuts and scars, she shone. Not much. In fact, very faintly, but she glowed.
"Are you okay?"
"Umm," he avoided her face and looked to the tiles again. "yeah, just...just a little tired." It would have to deem as his excuse of the day. He was tired. And the faces weren't helping.
"See ya later." He murmured as he brushed past the no-doubt confused girl.
To Arnold, it seemed as if the school had suddenly become overpopulated. Like locusts, they buzzed and flew around him, making him feel claustrophobic. He saw a boy in the corner of his vision that had a perfect face. Nick?, his mind questioned. It was the only face he could stand. It didn't shine but it wasn't cut like the rest. Slowly he made his way through the streams of students. Something about Nick attracted him, as if they were to talk together, something Destiny and Fate were pushing him to do.
"So what should I do?" Nick asked inside his head, Arnold getting closer, "Hit him? Tell him I know? He is the new Revealer, after all... isn't he?"
"Yes he is." Tiana answered back, " And no, don't do either.Too risky. You don't know how powerful he is, yet. Play the field, Nick. Play the game. Try and befriend him, and when the time comes... you know."
"So do you think I should reveal that I can See as well?"
"No." Tiana insisted, "No. We need him to confess first so that we will have the power. It will be an advantage if he thinks you know yet he doesn't know about you."
By this time, Arnold had reached Nick. The first moment was ackward. As was the second. Finally... "Hi, My name is Arnold. I'm, um, sure you knew that already, but..."
Nick shook his head. "Yeah, I did. And I'm Nick, though I'm sure you knew that too."
"Well, um. Yeah" Arnold laughed. Nick shook his head, the boy seemed genuine. He reminded himself that it could only be a ploy.
"Well, we'd better be getting to our first classes, Arnie, but I'll be seeing you soon." Nick said, walking away.
Arnold groaned under his breath. "My. Name. Is. Arnold."
But of course, the first bell rang before he could do anything about the name change.
"And...Why, Mr. Arnold, why so late?" Mr. Bird laughed as the red-faced boy came meekly into the room. The whole class' eyes were on him.
"I just lost track of time." Arnold mumbled his breath.
Mr. Bird was the kind of teacher that made a skeptical and joke of people who often 'lost track of time.' Sure, he was funny but there were times when he was a jerk to the students. And it was Arnold's turn this time.
"Well, class... since Mr. Arnold has decided to 'lose track of time,' we'll help him regain it... Mr. Arnold?"
"Yes...?"
"Is the floor really that interesting?"
"Yes."
"Well, I suggest you look up at me, the so not interesting teacher and take it." Mr. Bird didn't know how truthful his words were. Arnold's Adam's apple bobbed as he looked up and winced. His teacher _wasn't_ interesting. His ash gray complexion blended in nearly perfectly with his slightly lighter gray hair. Tired eyes looked impatiently back at Arnold.
"Now that we've got our whole class, at long last, let's begin today's lesson." Mr. Bird turned to the chalk board, and picked up a piece of white chalk. He faced away from the class as he spoke and wrote.
Arnold walked away, staring again at the floor as he passed the students in their desks. Their stares were divided. Some on Mr. Bird, some only on Arnold, and most on both. He sat down beside a girl named Mary Barkins (who was also in his Geometry class) and ignored her stare as well. It was unusual for him to be late, thus the attention. Only it seemed Mary's eyes were on him for a different reason. "Psst!" She whispered, holding out a folded piece of notebook paper. "I dunno who it's from, they just said to keep passing it to you."
Arnold looked down at it and gave her a questioning look. Mary shrugged. "I told you, I don't know." Arnold arched an eyebrow and unfolded it, making sure no one (especially Mr. Bird) didn't see.
He ironed out the creased paper with his palm and desk before he read.
"Arnold, don't look behind you." The paper read. It was signed simply "Nick". He was in this class too? Arnold had never noticed before, but then again, he never was truly awake in first hour anyway. And then, why shouldn't he look behind? He sat still for a few moments, but curiosity grabbed hold of him, and he spun around in his chair.
And of course, Arnold should've listened faithfully to Nick's warning. Why? Because he was hit smack dab in his forehead with a spitball. "HELGA!" He unintentionally yelled.
His eyes squinted close as he prepared himself for a barrage of more. And squinted. And braced himself. Suddenly he realized that the room was dead silent.
"Mr. Arnold, Miss Pataki, is there a problem?" The Bird Man, as he was often associated with, asked.
"N-n-no sir." Two feeble voices answered in unison. Arnold turned back around in his desk and faced the front. He then wiped off the spitball off his forehead after a moment's thought.
"I hope that you won't cause further distraction today, Arnold. You've decided to skate on thin ice today. One more thing and you'll be spending your afternoon with me."
Whew, he thought, that was a close one. Just when he was getting into the lesson and the stares disappeared, Mary passed another note to him.
Not another one, he thought.
He opened the note with hesitation, bracing himself. If it says "I told you so," I'm gonna scream. And of course it did. And it was from Nick. He bit his lip and decided to take his chances for detention that afternoon and screamed into his backpack.
On the other side of the room a boy with shaggy dark hair sighed. "Newbies," he muttered, "don't know what to do without them."
Soon, but not nearly soon enough, Mr. Bird's English class was over. The blessed bell called students out of their class... and right into their next one. As Arnold packed his books back into his backpack, he could sense someone behind him. Finding this odd, as the rest of the class was gone, he turned around.
It was Helga, still in her seat, her eyes lifted up in seemingly some sort of trance. Her bloodstained fingers unconsciously traced back and forth, back and forth across a gaping would in her arm, dipping in and out of the sore. She was bruised. Broken. Battered. Like a car accident, it was so awful that in a way, you couldn't stop looking at it. What could it mean? Arnold tried to block it from his mind as he finished packing his backpack and walked from class. But one thought remained prominent in his mind. "At least she got what she deserved."