Author's notes: The reviews just keep on coming! Thanks to everyone. The group of regulars seems to be firmly established, but I still appreciate the others who jump in along the way!

Once again, my writing grew at a rapid rate and forced me to make two chapters out of what I originally planned on being one. But this should turn out to be a good thing if the "Beaned" saga was any indication. There is something that makes this chapter completely different from the last eleven: new characters! Well, one of them is, at least. I'll explain what I mean in the footnotes. A quick note for Jae: I dare you to call this chapter "predictable!" (J/K, but do give me an opinion)

Disclaimer: Despite my desire for it to be true, I do not own Hey Arnold!

The large, beige building looked completely lifeless from the outside. Arnold stood near the front door of the YMAA, ready for the proverbial tumbleweed to blow by any minute. I'm not so sure about this now. I'd like it better if some other kids were here so I don't get singled out. He peered in through the glass doors. A few kids appeared to be playing basketball on one side of the main gym. On the other side, which was closer to his vantage point, he saw a table with a sign on the front. The print on the sign was too small to read, but he figured it was for the mentoring program. Regardless of what it was for, there was no one at the table, neither kids nor mentors.

After loitering outside the building for a couple more minutes, he was about to take a pass and go home when he heard a familiar voice echoing down the street, "Outta my way, Geek Bait! I've got important business to attend to!"

Arnold didn't even bother to look for the daily terror of his young existence. He almost knocked a door off its hinge as he flew into the gym, praying that Helga hadn't seen him. She must have gone by my house and noticed I wasn't there. Couldn't she just go home and leave me alone for once? Arnold cautiously crept back towards the door, peering out onto the street.

No! Did she see me? He stood frozen, spotting Helga standing at a corner. Staying perfectly still to avoid drawing her attention, Arnold watched as she looked about, hands on her hips, with a frustrated frown on her face. It was clear she was looking for someone. Her eyes then unexpectedly locked on his. Please, no! But can she really see me? I mean, the doors are really reflective from the outside. Maybe she just happens to be looking over here?

After staring at him for what felt like an eternity to Arnold, Helga turned in a huff and marched away, disappearing around the corner. Every muscle in Arnold's body relaxed in relief as he leaned back into the wall and sighed.

"Hey, Arnie!" A loud voice from the other side of the gym returned Arnold's body to its previously tense condition. Jack Wittenberg had spotted him. Arnold reluctantly dragged himself across the court.

"Hey, Coach."

"Save the small talk, Arnie. Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, I guess."

"That's great!" The coach turned and called to the younger kids horsing around, "All right, everyone gather around! I've brought in a master free throw shooter to show you guys how it's done! This is Arnold, he played on my fourth grade team last year."

Arnold stood amidst the ooh's and aah's being poured at his feet, showing little interest in giving a demonstration. He rolled his eyes as Wittenberg gave him a ball and led him over to the free throw line. "Coach, I really didn't come to play basketball, I was hoping to—"

"I know, I know! Look, all I want is you to show them that granny shot of yours that goes in every time."

"Hold on, who says it's a granny shot? I designed the shot myself; it's the most efficient and consistent way I know to make the basket."

"You're right, it is efficient and everything, but it's still a granny shot whether you like it or not."

"Look, Coach—"

"Arnold, please, just shut up and make the shot."

Arnold lackadaisically tossed the ball towards the rim. It perfectly swished through the net as Arnold turned to walk away.

"Wow! Can you do that again?"

"Yeah, that was great!"

Wittenberg observed the enthusiasm coming from his team and grabbed Arnold by the sweater as he tried to sneak away. "Where are you going? They want to see you do it again!"

"Coach, I already told you, I didn't come here to shoot hoops, and besides that, isn't basketball season like, two months away?"

"Hey, Tish already started coaching her girls' team last week! I've got to keep up with her if I want to produce a more winning team! But if you're not here to play basketball, what did you come for?"

"I thought I came for the mentoring program, but I guess the mentors never bothered to show up."

"Mentoring program? I didn't hear about any—wait a minute! Yeah, I remember now! I'm supposed to call the guy out here when the first kid shows up."

"Well, actually, I was thinking I'd actually better be getting home and—"

"Nonsense! I know the guy, he doesn't mind at all! Hey, Robert!"

A voice replied from a room down a hall from the basketball court, "Yeah, Jack?"

"I've got your first kid out here!"

If Arnold wasn't ready to run out of the gym initially, he was ready to go on an all-out sprint when "Robert" emerged onto the gym floor. "Arnold? I don't believe it! I was starting to think Principle Wartz was right about you kids not caring about the mentoring program!"

Arnold began to feel nauseous. "Uh, Mr. Simmons, I really didn't expect…"

Simmons read the look on Arnold's face. "Oh, I'm sorry! You've got the wrong idea! I'm not one of the mentors; I'm the program coordinator."

"Really? Well, that's a relief—no, wait, that's not what I meant! I mean—"

Simmons came over and escorted Arnold over to the bleachers by the wall. "That's all right. I know it'd probably be a little uncomfortable to have your teacher as your friend."

"My 'friend?'"

"Well, that's what your mentor is supposed to be, among other things."

Despite the fact that Mr. Simmons wasn't going to be his actual mentor, the whole situation still felt extremely awkward. Arnold took a seat on the bleachers and watched the kids on Wittenberg's team try to imitate Arnold's free throw shot, but with little luck. Arnold noticed that Coach Wittenberg was actually being supportive of the players, and shouting words of encouragement every time they made a shot. Looks like I finally got through to him. And to think, it took synchronized swimming for it to sink in to his skull completely. Wittenberg gave Arnold a grateful smile every time another kid got the shot down.

Satisfied with his latest favor, Arnold cautiously directed his gaze back to Mr. Simmons, who was standing off to the side of the gym, talking on a cell phone. It looked like as good a time as any to make his escape. To his recollection, there was a back door at the end of the hall of offices that Simmons had first emerged from. As casually as he could, Arnold shuffled off towards his exit.

"Arnold! Do you need something?"

Darn it! "No, I was just…pacing around."

"I see. I just called today's mentor. He said his last class ran a little long, but he's on his way right now."

"Oh…that's good."

"Arnold, is something bothering you?"

"Well…it's just…" I hope he buys this, "I would have preferred if I wasn't the only one here. I kind of feel singled out."

"I think I know what you mean. But you never know, someone else might show up."

Arnold gave Mr. Simmons a questioning glare in regard to his seemingly paper-thin compassion.

"Yo, Simmons!" As if to answer Arnold's prayers, another kid came walking in through the glass door entrance.

While Arnold breathed another well-deserved sigh of relief, Mr. Simmons walked over and met the new boy. "Hi, are you here for the mentoring program?"

"Good guess, Simmons. Name's Zeke, nice to see you again."

"Again? I'm sorry, I don't remember the first time we met."

"Well, technically we've never actually 'met.' I go to P.S. 119. A few of my friends were in your third grade class a couple years ago before you transferred over to 118."

"Uh-huh. You do look vaguely familiar. Maybe if you took off those sunglasses I'd be able to tell?"

Zeke grabbed his glasses and put a hand up to Simmons. "Sorry, no can do. The glasses never come off."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it, then. Why don't you have a seat with the boy sitting over there? The mentor should be here any minute."

"Sounds good."

Zeke strutted across the gym in an obvious attempt to look cool. The kid was a sight to behold as Arnold watched him approach. At first sight, attention was drawn to Zeke's head, which sported a large, afro-like frock of brown hair with blonde highlights. Complementing the outrageous hair was a pair of orange sunglasses housed in a dark pewter frame. Moving past the head, Zeke was dressed in a long-sleeved blue t-shirt with red characters emblazoned across the chest. Arnold couldn't read them or even tell what language it was, although it was definitely East Asian. Completing the look was a pair of light brown corduroy pants and a pair of relatively plain-looking sneakers.

The new kid took a seat and extended his hand, "Hi, I'm Zeke."

"Nice to meet you, I'm—ow!" Arnold pulled back his crippled hand. "You've got some grip there!"

"Thanks. Your name's Arnold, right?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I've heard about you."

"Really? From whom?"

"Gerald Johansson, of course."

"How do you know Gerald?"

"He comes by P.S. 119 every once in a while and tells us his famous urban tales. He used you once, actually."

"Let me guess, 'the kid with a football for a head?'"

"Guess you've probably heard that one. But now that I've met you, I can really see the resemblance."

"Sure." Arnold frowned and looked to get off the subject of his head shape. He glanced at Zeke and noticed something odd about Zeke's left arm. "Is that a cast you've got on there or something?"

"What, this?" Zeke brought his arm up pulled back the sleeve. "Yeah, I got that about a week ago. Broke my arm trying to grind down the handrails on the front steps of my school."

"You skateboard?"

"Yeah. At least, I try to."

The two of them chuckled at that remark. Arnold continued, "Those bandages wrapped around your hand remind me of a friend of mine."

"You don't say?"

"Yeah. She cut her hand open on a soda bottle today. How or why she did it, I'll never understand."

"Wait, you said 'she;' are you referring to Helga Pataki?"

"Yeah, do you know her, too?"

"Well, not personally. Gerald used her in his tales once, described her as the most terrifying girl walking the planet."

"That's one accurate description. But how did you know about her hand?"

"I ran into her on my way over here. I bump into her as she's walking by me and before I know it, she grabs me by the collar, practically lifts me off the ground, and yells something about how she'll put her good hand down my throat if I don't watch where I'm going."

"You're lucky; she let you off pretty easy compared to the stuff she puts me through every day. Sometimes I wish that girl would just move away or something and leave me alone."

"Well, you know, she didn't seem all that mean about it when she yelled at me. It was more like she was feeling insecure and just didn't want anyone running into her."

"Yeah, Helga's always been that way. I just can't figure out what it is that makes her want to do that stuff all the time. I know she's not really like that."

Although Arnold couldn't read Zeke's eyes for a clear picture, Arnold could tell Zeke was confused by his last remark. Zeke's mouth lips were off to one side, and his forehead was furrowed up, revealing what Arnold could now clearly tell was a unibrow. Man, how many people in this town have one of those? It's like there's a tweezer shortage.

"I'm sorry, Zeke. I don't want to bore you with a bunch of details regarding Helga."

"It's okay, I don't mind hearing about her. I mean, that's what we're here for, isn't it, to talk about stuff?"

"I guess."

"Speaking of that, where's the mentor guy at, anyway?"

"I don't know, but to tell you the truth, I've got a bad feeling about meeting this so-called 'mentor.'"

"Why's that?"

"Well, Mr. Simmons told me he was on his way over from his 'last class.'"

"Aw, no way! You mean we gotta put up with a teacher for our mentor?"

"I'm afraid so."

Zeke glanced around for Mr. Simmons and couldn't spot him. He then turned to Arnold, "What do you say we make a break for the door?"

"I tried that once already. Simmons seems to always be watching whether we know it or not."

"Who cares what Simmons thinks? Come on, Arnold. Let's get out of here."

His conscience now agreeing with Zeke, not caring what Mr. Simmons would think of them bailing, Arnold followed along. The two of them got near the main entrance. Arnold was ready to hear Mr. Simmons, Coach Wittenberg, or just about anyone on the planet catch them and call them back, but he heard nothing.

They were about to reach the door when another person walked in and stopped them on their way out. "Hey, guys. Could you tell me where the mentoring program's meeting at?"

Zeke pointed the new arrival over to the bleachers where he and Arnold were just sitting. "Go sit over there and look for the skinny bald guy in the green sweater."

Arnold looked at the shirt the new guy was wearing, which read "HCC."

"Oh, you mean Mr. Simmons, right?"

"Right. He's probably lurking down one of those hallways; you can't miss him."

"All right, thanks a lot."

"No problem. Okay, Arnold, let's get going."

Arnold finally realized what the letters meant. "Hold on a second. Do you go to Hillwood City College?"

"Yeah. Any reason you wanted to know?"

"Not really. It just seems a little strange, someone your age coming in here for mentoring."

"Hey, I admit I'm a bit young to be doing this sort of thing, but—"

"Too young?" Zeke decided to interrupt after initially not showing much interest in the young man. "I would've said you were too old to be coming in here. What are you, like, 19?"

"Good guess."

Zeke and Arnold glanced at each other. Arnold spoke for them both, "I think we're a bit confused."

"Will! There you are!" Mr. Simmons called from the other side of the gym.

"Hey, Mr. Simmons!"

Simmons jogged over to the three of them. "Boys, this is Will, your mentor!"

The two ten-year-olds' jaws dropped. "This guy is the mentor?"

"He sure is, Zeke! Will, these are the two boys who showed up, Zeke and Arnold."

"Nice to meet you two—ow! Zeke, you've got some squeeze there!"

Zeke smiled smugly at the compliment as Will and Arnold shook hands.

Mr. Simmons put his hands together. "Fantastic! Okay, folks, I've got a meeting room set up for you guys in the back. But first, Will, could I talk to you for a minute in private? Boys, just go down the hall; it's the first door on the left."

Arnold and Zeke obediently walked back across the gym, looking back at the mentor with looks of surprise on their faces. "I guess you misunderstood Simmons when he said the mentor had a 'class.'"

"I guess I did."

"Did you get a load of him squealing when I shook his hand? Pretty sweet, being able to put the hurtin' on someone nine years older than me!"

"Zeke, I think he was messing with you. I mean, he sounded a little sarcastic when he gave you the complement."

"Arnold, please, let me enjoy it while it lasts."

Arnold rolled his eyes, but at the same time couldn't help but smile. Zeke reminded him a lot of the gang, each of them a touch eccentric in their own way.

The two of them reached the first door on the left and found the meeting room. Arnold walked in first and surveyed the setup. "Hey, this isn't so bad."

Zeke had other feelings. "'Not so bad?' This is awesome! Full-size leather sofa, chips, candy—ooh, gummy worms—and a chest full of Yahoo!" He immediately started raiding the freebies set before him.

Arnold took a seat on the sofa and sank into the cushions, sighing loudly. "Okay, I'll admit it, this is pretty good. Actually, it's almost too good."

"Arold, cam I het you amyding?" Zeke asked with a mouth full of gummy worms.

"Just a Yahoo, thanks."

Zeke brought over a plate full of potato chips, gummy worms and Tootsie Rolls and set them down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He handed Arnold one of the Yahoos he had under his arm and took a seat himself. "If we had a TV in here, we'd be all set."

"A TV? Now that would be too much."

As Zeke laughed at Arnold's remark, Arnold took notice of Zeke's apparent lack of any physical build or tone. For a kid strong enough to supposedly squeeze harder than an adult male, he actually appeared rather scrawny. But Arnold had met a few guys on Ernie's demolition team, emaciated in appearance, who could lift a hundred pounds with little if any effort, so he knew not to take appearance too heavily into account.

"So, Arnold, I'm just curious, can you tell me more about this terror of the schoolyard?"

"Actually, to be honest, Helga's not my favorite topic of discussion."

"Aw, come on. As much as you seem to hate her, she actually sounds kind of interesting."

Some Yahoo found its way down Arnold's windpipe after that statement. He spoke between coughs, "Are you… kidding me? You're… telling me… Helga's… interesting?"

"Whoa, hang on a second! I didn't mean it like that! I meant I find the bully persona very intriguing, like an accident on the side of the road or something."

Arnold spit up the last bit of soda in a fit of laughter. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess I've got a few things to say!"

"All right! Let's hear it!"

"Okay, here's something that happens to me almost everyday. I'll be going along, walking down the street or down the school hallway. I come to a corner, and out of nowhere, I smack right into Helga. Neither of us is ever expecting this, despite the fact that it's happened so many times. Anyway, we both fall down, and every time, without fail, she's got this look of total shock on her face that's just priceless!"

"Oh, yeah? How do you mean?"

"Well, she just kind of turns pale and gets these really big eyes, like this." Arnold replicated the familiar look of bewilderment.

Zeke started holding his sides, laughing until he was short of breath.

Arnold continued, starting to find the story rather amusing himself. "I think her problem is that the fall completely throws her off her game. She knows it, and she knows I know it, too. So she stands up real quick, and yells at me, 'Why don't you watch where you're going, Football Head? Sheesh!'"

"'Football Head?' Is that what she calls you?"

"Yeah, it's her favorite name she's got for me, one of like, a zillion others."

Zeke stuck his fingers under his sunglasses and appeared to be wiping tears from his eyes. "That's rich. So what, does she like you or something? Because you know that's what it sounds like, to me at least."

"You're not the first one to give me that theory. My grandpa likes to tease me about it all the time."

"I'd probably be teasing you, too! Sounds like you've got a live one, my friend."

"Yeah, I guess. Just wish I could figure out what to do about her. But that's why we're here, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is. Speaking of that, where the heck is that mentor? The food and everything is great, but I need something to engage me!"

Zeke's words were answered as the door opened and Will made his entrance. Arnold and Zeke returned to their prior silence. Will grabbed a folding chair from the corner of the room and set it down across from the boys. He then grabbed a Yahoo, opened it and sat down. After taking a long sip, he set it down and looked up at the boys. "Okay, gentlemen. What do you say we get started?"

Character notes: Zeke is partly based on one of the characters from the snowboarding game, SSX Tricky. I think his name was Eddie, but I'm only about 40% sure. I used him mainly for the hairstyle, and then I changed things up from there.

Yes, I have committed the always-controversial act of self-insertion! I actually had this planned since I first came up with the main plot, so don't think that this was a last-minute decision! And it's not me in any exact sense; think of it more as a character loosely based off of myself who just happens to have the same name.

That's all for now, I'll pick up right where I left off next time. Thank you for reading!