So for those of you who aren't familiar with my updating.. habits… I tend to take forever to write a chapter because I'm just one of those people who does stuff when they feel like it and I have a lot of different things I can do that I cycle through in order to express my fandom-y fangirlness. So if you've got your heart set on this story becoming an official thing… be warned, there's a long and arduous trek ahead of us.

Also not too long ago I noticed someone else started up a fanfiction that went in the direction I was planning to go with this which led me to a decision. I'm going to back off for a while, let their fic run it's course before I pick up mine because part of what draws a reader to a fanfiction is it's uniqueness and the creativity in the idea (or at least that's my opinion) so when there's two of the same type of fic running at once they just kind of hinder each other. In the mean time I'll keep writing, I just won't post that way once it's my turn to pick up the quill (no wait, does that even make sense? Actually, I don't care, It's 2 am and I don't have time for logic at this point) I'll already have a good chunk written and I'll be able to keep 'em coming fast and hopefully keep you entertained. If the other author doesn't update their fic for three months (because that tends to be my average updating rate sadly) then I'll step in but until then… this'll just be… chilling… I guess. I don't know, it's still 2 am, I'm tired. Words.

Pumpkin.

Looking at the insanely huge yacht, Helga couldn't help but question the practicality and sanity of the elite. Who in their right mind would buy a boat this gigantic for leisure? To put it bluntly, this privately owned miniature-only-in-name cruise liner was a perfect example of frivolous spending by the rich. Just imagine the thousands of starving kids in Africa that could've been fed with the money used to buy this materialistic waste of space that'll most likely only be used thrice before being discarded for the newest model. The pristine white hull reflected sunlight like a mirror, almost blinding the poor blonde during her attempt to sarcastically gawk at the majestic piece of crud.

Her classmates scampered on board viciously, practically climbing over one another just to set foot on the garish garbage. Frowning Helga began to climb the bridge connecting this symbol of all that is wrong with capitalism to the dock.

It took her a second to notice, since she could barely see with the gleaming ship directly in front of her, but she wasn't the only kid with enough reason to not flip out over getting on a boat. Up ahead, Arnold was simply strolling up the wooden bridge, his slow pace only reminding Helga of his peaceful nature for which she loved him. The boy paused for a moment before glancing back at the lone girl and sending her a simple smile.

Helga's face imploded.

Her head was pulsating with blood as she struggled to keep herself from swooning in public. That wasn't even fair! The stupid football head got her when her guard was down! that little conniving-

It only got worse when she chanced another look and saw he was still there, looking at her. He hadn't moved! He was waiting for her! BASTARD!

Helga couldn't decide whether she wanted to give him a spontaneous smooch or a punch to the face. Ultimately she followed her usual course of action and did as little as possible. The girl tried to roughly shove past him and ignore him but that became increasingly difficult as he fell into step alongside her.

"So Helga," Arnold tried, only getting a grunt in response, "this is a pretty cool boat, isn't it?" he asked casually.

This was a trap. He'd seen the look on her face when she first saw the boat, it was as though the yacht had insulted her mother. The football head would never admit it, but he'd learned how to work with Helga at least to some degree. He'd figured out which buttons to push to get the girl talking and, to be honest, the boy genuinely enjoyed his "conversations" with the lighter blonde.

"You're kidding, right?" Helga asked, suddenly acknowledging him, "this boat is an example of everything that's wrong with society." the blonde paused, glancing down in thought for a moment before glaring back into Arnold's green eyes, "Well not everything directly, but almost everything. A fair portion of human error is represented by this gaudy, pointless ship. First of all, how much do you think this cost? Well into the millions, right? And for what, a boat they probably don't even use twice a year?! All that money could've gone to something more productive or meaningful, maybe it could've helped Venezuela break free of it's communist government or be used as college tuition for kids who can't afford it but no- clearly, this shiny piece of elitist luxury shit is worth more than…"

She continued, her words spinning around Arnold in a glorious show of intellect, wit, and compassion. He was loving every second of her condescending, harsh, yet truthful speech; and while, to be completely honest, he felt a small inkling of pride in being the only child (besides Phoebe) to know about this particular layer of Helga, he still wanted her to be able to pen up to others. Without a doubt it was the potential that he saw that made him enjoy his "chats" with her so much.

It had nothing to do with the way her eyes burned so brightly or her boisterous gestures to accompany her loud speech or the fact that it was just the two of them.

All he wanted was the best for her.

Reaching the deck, Helga finished her rant with a brisk conclusion before sauntering off to find the stairs to the lower floor with the cabins on it. Arnold smiled watching the way her pigtails bounced with each stomp she took.

This was Arnold, eleven hours before it all began.

It's pretty short but I find it decent so here's hoping it all goes well. If you're interested in more leave a review or watch this story, if you really want to then feel free to favorite (but let's not get ahead of ourselves, no one is actually going to bother doing that.)