Arnold was excused from doing homework for a few weeks, but he was going to try to write with his right hand for quizzes and tests. Mr. Simmons discussed this with him on Monday morning, in front of everyone in Arnold's class.

"I reckon it would be good practice, writin' wit yer non-dominant hand," Stinky said. "You might become ambivalent."

"I think you mean ambidextrous," Phoebe said. "Ambivalence is when you have mixed feelings about something."

Eugene, who was currently uninjured except for scraped knees, also had something to say about this. "Whenever I try to write with my left hand, I end up spraining my thumb."

"That's just you," Gerald said. "I doubt that would happen to Arnold."

So Arnold tried to use his right hand to take notes, but it was more difficult than he expected it to be. If he wrote slow, he couldn't keep up with Mr. Simmons, but if he wrote fast, his writing was illegible.

This wasn't the only task Arnold was struggling with. Eating meals took twice as long as usual, and buttoning his jeans took extra effort. Gerald was acting like an assistant during school, offering to carry Arnold's textbooks and open doors for him.

"So," Gerald said, as he walked with Arnold to the cafeteria, "do you want me to carry your tray?"

"I wish I could carry it myself, but..." Arnold glanced at his splint. "I might drop it."

"No problem, man," Gerald said. "I'll even get yours before mine."

Arnold waited patiently at his lunch table, rubbing his sore hand while watching Gerald wait in line. Arnold forgot to tell him to bring a cup of tapioca pudding, but he doubted there would be any left by the time Gerald got to the serving line. There were a lot of kids standing in front of him, including the cut-throat, tapioca-craving Helga.

Now Arnold was looking at Helga, who was heading towards her table with a cup of pudding and a plastic spoon. Then she stopped in her tracks, right in front of Arnold's table.

"Hey football—err, I mean...Arnold..."

Arnold blinked.

"Aren't you hungry?" Helga asked. "I guess it's hard to hold utensils without bending your fingers, but..."

"Gerald's getting my lunch," Arnold said. "And yeah, I have to use my right hand to eat."

Helga looked at the cup in her hand. "Did you want a tapioca?"

"Are there any left?" Arnold asked.

"I took the last one, but..." Helga set it down in front of Arnold. "You can have it. Do you need me to open it for you?"

Arnold was speechless. Helga Pataki was being kind to him?

Actually, this wasn't the first time Helga had shown her friendly side. She comforted Arnold the first time Lila rejected him, and they had fun together at Rhonda's costume party last year. Helga even helped him save the neighborhood over the summer, although she tried to prank him by saying that she was in love with him. Helga was...confusing to Arnold. She clearly cared about him, deep down inside, but for some reason she chose to hide it.

"Are your ears broken?" Helga snapped. "Why aren't you answering me?"

"Sorry," Arnold said, "I was daydreaming. Are you really giving me your pudding?"

"You think I'm incapable of mercy?"

Arnold smiled for the first time since his accident. "Thanks, Helga. That's really thoughtful—"

"Helga?"

They both looked at Gerald, who had suddenly appeared behind Helga. Helga opened the pudding cup and handed it to Arnold. "Here, take it!"

Arnold grabbed it with his good hand, and Helga set down the spoon. She ran off without saying another word.

Arnold couldn't read Gerald's facial expression. Was he annoyed? Confused? Disgusted?

"Helga gave me her pudding cup," Arnold said. He moved it to his left hand, and picked up the spoon with his right.

"Helga Pataki? I thought she hated you."

Arnold dipped the spoon into his pudding. "Maybe she's ambivalent."