Author's note: For anyone reading this chapter for the first time, or if you came back to it for a second look, this chapter has been edited and reposted as of 11-17-2003. I changed the very end of it due to "popular discourse." I'll also re-include the important credits and disclaimer.

Origin of chapter title: School Daze is a 1987 film directed by Spike Lee. As I had suspected, the title has been borrowed and used by others besides me. Here are a few examples courtesy of an ifilm.com search: Denver, the Last Dinosaur in 1988, The Adventures of Pete and Pete in 1994, and Chucklewood Critters in 1996.

Disclaimer: I've never owned Hey Arnold!

"Hey Arnold, I couldn't help but overhear you tellin' Gerald about some kinda dream you had last night."

"That's what I was telling him, Stinky."

"Mind if listen in?"

"Okay, I guess. Anyway Gerald, after we went and saw Ruth she takes me over to—"

"Did I just hear you say 'Ruth?'"

"Yes, Sid."

"Arnold's telling us about a dream he had last night."

"Really? Arnold always has the coolest dreams, and this one's got Ruth! I've gotta hear it too!"

"Fine, Sid, but I'm trying to tell Gerald about—"

"Sid! Stinky! What're you guys doing?"

"Arnold's telling us about another one of his crazy dreams!"

"What? Hey everyone! Arnold had another one of his weird dreams last night!"

What started as a conversation between two friends had escalated into full public disclosure compounded by Harold's yelling. Arnold's conversation in the hall was about to continue with a huge audience when the bell rang. Groans followed the bell as Mr. Simmons stepped out into the hall and began ushering everyone into the room.

Gerald turned to Arnold as they were being herded. "Hey, I wanna hear the rest of that after school when we get a minute alone, okay man?"

"Sure, Gerald, assuming we can escape the class Paparazzi."

"All right, everyone take their seats so we can listen to the announcements!"

Wartz came on the P.A. as the last of the kids came walking in the classroom. "Good morning, boys and girls. I hope you all had a pleasant first day of school and are now ready to get down to business. First off, I would like to remind all students that clothing of some kind is required at all times while on school grounds, and streaking of any kind is not permitted."

As Wartz was speaking, Curly walked into the classroom wearing a full-length trench coat. The belt on the coat appeared to have been tied by another person, in a fashion so that Curly could not undo it himself. "You may have stopped me this time, Wartz, but you can't keep your eyes on me 24/7!" he yelled at the P.A. as he took his seat.

"Actually, Mr. Gamelthorpe, I can, thanks to our brand-new, state-of-the-art school surveillance system, provided to us by the city council's unstoppable education spending frenzy." The camera at the front of the room made a noise as it zoomed in on Curly, making the rest of class uncomfortable as well. "Now, on a lighter note, I have been informed that the local YMAA is starting a new mentoring program next week. Interested students should report to the YMAA on 35th street next Tuesday to sign up and meet the mentors. And, that is all."

Harold spoke up as Wartz signed off. "Mr. Simmons, what's a mentor?"

"I'm glad you asked, Harold. A mentor is an adult, or simply an older person who gives advice and support to someone else who is younger or less experienced."

"You mean like our parents?"

"No, not exactly, more like a older sibling of some kind."

"Is it similar to what goes on in the Big Sis program?"

"Yes, Lila, it's very similar to that, except I think this program is less structured and isn't necessarily gender exclusive."

"That sounds like something some poor loser kid would sign up for!"

"Yeah, who would want to spend a bunch of time hanging out with some old guy we don't even know if we don't have to?"

"Now, Sid, Stinky, I don't want you bad mouthing the mentoring program. You could probably get a lot out of it if you went, and I'm encouraging everyone to think about it and possibly try it out."

"Hey Arnold, how much you wanna bet he's one of the mentors?"

Arnold glanced at Gerald for a moment, and then went back to staring at the wall as he had been doing since he sat down. He was barely awake at this point, having not slept well the night before due to his love tour. That dream…what was up with Hilda the whole time? Why was she so confrontational about Lila? She seemed really mad about me chickening out. And then there was that bedroom at the end…

"Excuse me, Arnold?"

"Huh, what?"

"It's your turn to read."

Arnold looked around, getting his wits about him.

"Page 30, Arnold, you're reading the fifth stanza."

What is he talking about, when did we get into poetry? He looked up at the clock, 11:30. How did three hours go by? Who sleeps that long in class? And what happened to recess, did I sleep through that too? He opened his literature book, putting his thoughts aside for the moment.

The lunch bell rang just as Arnold read the first word. The stampede for the door swept him out into the hall, where he ran into Gerald on their way to the cafeteria. "Gerald, is it really time for lunch already?"

"Man, you must have been really tired. I mean, the recess bell rang, and you kept sleeping. The class ran out and back in, and you kept sleeping. Then Curly found his way out of his coat, took off out the door buck naked, we all followed along, and you still kept sleeping!"

"I can't believe I slept through all of that. Even the Curly bit, I'm sure that would have woke me up."

"Well, I may have been stretching the truth a little there. Still, I wouldn't rule it out before the day gets through. The boy was working on the knot all morning; Wartz must have used some kind of secret military knot-tying technique on it."

Into the cafeteria they went, walking through the typical malaise of kids and flying food. Arnold and Gerald shuffled along the lunch line, which had returned to the same food they had come to know, but certainly not love, from yesteryear.

"Didn't someone do an experiment to see what was in this mush?"

"Yeah, I think it was Harold, oddly enough."

"That so? What he find out?"

"Trust me, Gerald. You don't want to know. I'll go find us a table."

"Cool, I'll be over there in a minute."

Arnold strolled away, with Gerald's words passing through his head like a cool breeze. He sat down at a table, enjoying a cool breeze of a more literal nature from a nearby ceiling fan as he began to survey the room, taking the mild chaos of the cafeteria piece by piece.

"Hey guys, check it out." Harold pulled out a large flower-shaped sticker.

"What's that supposed to be?"

"It's one of those hippie stickers off of Simmons' bike. I'm gonna leave it on his chair when we get back to class. It'll cheese him off so bad!"

"Harold, are you nuts? You can't take the stickers off his bike!"

"Why not?"

"That's vandalism! He finds out you did it, he'll tell Wartz and you'll get like a month's detention!"

"He's not gonna find out, Sid! You're still with me on this one, right Stinky?"

"Heck yeah, I'm in. He's sure gonna look goofy walking around with a big pink flower on his butt!"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, Nadine, let's go down the list again. We've got triangle, square, heart-shaped, and round finger sandwiches."

"Check."

"We've got two completely different bands performing on each floor of the house."

"Check."

"And we've got invitations for every kid from the fourth grade up?"

"Check. But I still don't know why we've got to invite fourth graders, Rhonda."

"Nadine, when you start approaching the top of the totem pole, you need to start recruiting from the bottom up. I'm in the fifth grade now, which means I've only got two grades to work with if we don't extend our boundaries downward."

"Why don't we just invite everyone in our class and have a normal costume party like we did before?"

"Because I have to outdo myself! People get tired of going to the same party over and over! This one has to be bigger and better than the last one, which means more people, more music, and more shapes for the sandwiches!"

"Thanks for having lunch with us, Lila."

"Yeah, I can't remember the last time anyone even remotely popular sat at our table!"

"It's my pleasure, Sheena, Eugene. You guys are just ever so nice, I don't understand why everyone else makes you sit over here in the corner alone with this broken table."

"We don't mind sitting over here too much." The table began to tip to one side as Eugene spoke. "Brainy, I think we need a little more Styrofoam under that leg."

"Uh…got it."

"Great. So I hope you don't mind my asking, Lila, but why did you decide to sit over here with us?"

"Actually, Eugene, I'm trying to avoid a bad situation."

"Really? Is it okay if I ask what it's about?"

Lila directed her gaze toward another corner of the room. The group at the table followed her line of sight and got the message.

"Good afternoon, Simmons."

"Oh, Principle Wartz! Hello! Everything going okay today?"

"Please, keep yourself at ease. You don't want to lose your composure in front of the students—Hey! I saw that young man! The mashed potatoes are for feeding, not fighting! Anyway, Simmons, I just wondering, how many students in your class were showing interest in the new mentoring program?"

"Actually, they all seemed very interested in it after you announced it; I got a lot of questions about it."

"There's a surprise. These kids have no appreciation for the knowledge adults can and do provide to them."

"I beg to differ, sir."

"Don't start in with your 'special' stuff, Simmons. We both know these kids view a mentoring program as a waste of their time. That, or they're afraid to go and thus get labeled by their peers."

"I was just going to say it's still good that the opportunity is open to them."

"Is that so? Well, I do agree with you about the benefits when a kid does decide to give it a try. But mark my words, Simmons; I'd wager a week's pay that not one kid shows up on the first day."

"Hey Arnold, move over one."

"Huh?" The familiar snap back to reality overcame Arnold yet again. "Who's sitting with us?"

"You know who." Gerald cocked his head in her direction as she approached the table.

"Oh. Actually, I'm not feeling that hungry now. I think I'll go and sit outside."

Gerald gave him the familiar questioning look. "Whatever, man." Gerald turned his attention back to his other guest as she sat down.

"Hi, Gerald. Where's Arnold going?"

"He's going outside for some air, I guess."

"Is he still upset about yesterday?"

"My guess is it's that dream he had last night that he was tellin' me about. I 'magine it kept him up most of the night."

"Was the dream about Lila?"

"He didn't tell me about most of it yet, but I imagine it was."

"Interesting. You know, stress is often released by some people through dreams and nightmares."

Gerald sat in silence at this point, listening to Phoebe go on about some studies conducted at some university regarding sleep habits. He enjoyed just looking at her while she cited her points. Before he entered into a dream state similar to Arnold's, a lunch tray slammed down on the table, startling them both.

"Oh! Hi, Helga. Gerald, do you mind if Helga sits with us?"

Helga locked eyes with Gerald. The two of them stared at each other with an alert suspicion. Neither trusted the other, nor did either of them care to be eating lunch together. Each of them had their own reason for their dislike, although they both were oblivious to the real reason for their animosity.

Gerald raised an eyebrow. "I suppose I could allow her presence if it'll make you happy, Phoebe."

"You don't have to allow me nothing, Geraldo. I was just picking up my milk from Phoebe on my way out." Eyes still locked, squinted down to thin white lines, Helga picked up the chocolate milk and bendy straws from Phoebe's tray, picked hers up and walked out the door.

After Helga left, Phoebe glared at Gerald. "What is with you two? Why do you and Helga never seem to get along?"

Gerald stared at the door swinging shut, thinking about Phoebe's question as the pink bow disappeared from his view.

"Sheesh! Phoebe's hanging around with Tall Hair Boy so much I can't get a minute with her! And who does he think he is, anyway? Phoebe is my pawn…I mean, friend!" She scowled in frustration as she cleared the doorway to the schoolyard. A few fourth graders were eating at the table by the tetherball pole where Park and Peapod Kid were playing. It appeared she had some space available to herself to sit and eat in peace until she spotted him.

Arnold was lying on a bench only a few feet away from her, staring up at the sky. Helga froze in place, not wanting to be noticed in his peripheral vision. Okay, no problem here, just walk around him slowly. Don't do anything to grab his attention. Following this thought, she proceeded to trip on a crack in the concrete. She tumbled to the ground, breaking her short fall with her arms and suffering only minor scratches on her elbows.

Geez, why don't I just walk up and scream in his face? Helga scrambled to her feet and picked up her lunch tray. Wow, it's all still here. Wait, where's the milk? She looked around for the milk, and panicked when she spotted it under Arnold's bench. Well, it looks like I'm not drinking milk today! I'll be heading back inside now! Off she went, fleeing from the scene.

"Hey, Helga?"

Why does he always have to be so helpful and everything? I don't want the milk! "What do you want, Football Head?"

Arnold paused at hearing the familiar taunt roll off her tongue. I remember hearing that somewhere in my dream. Was I in Helga's room at the end? It all seems like a blur now…

"Hey! Paste for brains!" She now stood over him, glaring the trademark scowl. Her frown looked like it was about to break her lip line in half.

"I…just wanted to know if you wanted this." He held the carton up, milk leaking out of one corner.

Helga stood, arms crossed, sneer permanently etched on her face. She knew how to create an intimidating presence. Slowly, she reached out, took the milk from Arnold's hand, and proceeded to squeeze the box over his head. The carton broke, and the milk burst forth onto Arnold's head and shirt.

"Hey! What did you do that for?"

"I decided I didn't want it. You can have it, instead." She turned and began walking away, feet stomping as she laughed loudly.

But Arnold had other ideas. He ran up along side her and began his interrogation. "Why did you squeeze a box of chocolate milk onto me?"

"I said I didn't want it."

"You could have just offered it to me in the box."

"I suppose I could have, but that wouldn't have been nearly as funny." She was about to continue laughing when Arnold stepped in front of her.

"You know, Helga, you make absolutely no sense! What possesses you time and time again to do these things to me? And why is it always me in particular?"

Her domineering appearance was not fazed, except for the smile forming on her face. It appeared she taking pleasure in Arnold's confusion.

"Hey, I asked you a question!"

The tone in Arnold's voice caught her off guard. An uncharacteristic show of anger by her crush broke her tough exterior, exchanging smug arrogance for confusion. "Don't…get bent out of shape…Arnold."

"Just tell me right now, get it over with. Why me?"

Confusion was now replaced by fear. He's trying to force it out of me again! No way, I can't let him win! "Look, Hair Boy, unless you want a visit from Old Betsy, you'd best butt out!"

"I won't do that, Helga. Tell me why you're always picking on me."

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because!"

"Because why?"

She pulled him by the shirt up to her eye line, went nose-to-nose and hissed, "You already know why, you idiot! Now leave it be! Leave it!" Helga tossed him to the ground and stomped away.

"No! I'm not leaving it alone! Come back and—" The lunch bell cut him off. Arnold glared at Helga as she walked through the door back into the school, and then directed his gaze back to his own appearance. "How much longer is she going to keep this stuff up? I'm running out of good sweaters." He chalked it up as a "girl thing" and walked off to the bathroom to clean up.