He woke with heavy eyelids that lifted languidly, laying on his back and wincing at the quilt of gray patchwork that stretched over the sky. The clouds were so dense that the sun had no place, and his room appeared muted in color for its absence. Laying in bed he licked his dry lips and took notice of a light layer of film that had coated overnight on his teeth. His throat was dry and his mind was frozen in a tired, morning malaise. He stirred from the fetal position and reluctantly removed his dark blue comforter and sheets.
His alarm hadn't gone off yet, but he seemed to have something of a mental alarm clock radio, and once it had woken him there was no turning back. He sat for a few minutes on his bedside, his shoulders raised and his arms standing parallel to his torso that hunched over and created a small pot belly that otherwise did not exist.
The sound of crows cawing and the drone of his fan were the only noises that permeated his bedroom walls. It was pleasant and rewarding to hear, despite the grogginess that still sat in his mind.
Breakfast was quiet and mundane. Arnold scooped mindlessly through a bowl of off-brand cheerios whilst grandpa and Mr. Nguyen drank coffee, and shared different sections of the same newspaper. Occasionally they would discuss what they read to one another, but mostly there was a comfortable silence. Of all the boarders to deal with in the morning- Mr. Nguyen was certainly the most tolerable. He tended to keep to himself, which Arnold appreciated because of his need to slowly acclimate to the task of being awake each morning.
After a couple cartoons and a good listen to a few songs from a new album he had bought he decided to head for the bus stop. The walk was what usually brought him to consciousness, especially on brisk winter days such as those. At the bus stop he sat across from a tall, lanky man with short brown curls and a pair of thick, black-framed glasses resting on a prominent hooked nose. The stranger seemed to be in his mid thirties and was always reading when Arnold arrived.
He sat on the bench, leaving a large space between him and the man. He folded his fingers and dangled his feet that didn't quite rest on the side-walk, and looked downward, lost in thought.
He recalled his conversation with his grandfather, and his disagreement with Helga. He wanted to prove her wrong, and grandpa's sentiments had been encouraging to this end. He fell victim to his pontifications until the screech of braking tires startled him from his introspective stupor. He shook his head only slightly, trying to refocus on the "now" as he boarded the city bus.
He arrived to class in a timely manner. He opened his notebook and pulled out an assignment he knew to be due at the beginning of the class, and commenced to doodle crude sketches to distract himself until the other students filled in.
Gerald came into class, looking bored and dead inside like every pupil that entered the classroom. Seating himself beside Arnold, Gerald took a bite of a red licorice stick he had smuggled into class.
Gerald whispered as he waggled the limp red straws beneath his desk, "You want?"
Arnold smiled and took one as stealthily as he could. Their teacher was too busy grading homework he had procrastinated grading from days before to notice anything occurring in the room before the first bell rang. Arnold smiled genially, "Thanks."
Before he could take a bite, however, it was snatched from his hands. Helga had walked by, "haha, thanks football head." She shoved the first quarter of the chewy candy inside her mouth and laughed with a mouth full of red gunk as Nadine smirked humorously at the situation.
Arnold glared at Helga with a muted annoyance. Holding the straw in her right hand she rolled her eyes and smiled, "Calm down. It's just licorice."
Mr. Swanson tapped his finished papers together to make an even pile, and stood abruptly, "Alright everyone, I have an announcement." After shushing his pupils he continued, "I thought we could have fun in this class, and all agree to be responsible..."
"...but it seems that this class can't handle that kind of independence and trust." Their teacher pressed his lips together tightly and let that expression stay for dramatic effect, only to emphasize his discontent. After the divisive pause he continued, "I've devised a new seating chart for our classroom. I want you all to come to the front."
The class erupted in groans of disappointment as they begrudgingly gathered toward the front of the room like cattle navigating through aisles and rows.
Like any normal seating chart it defied all logic and seemed structured as if at random. Harmless, docile individuals were isolated from friends, while disruptive kids remained in earshot of their comrades. However, Gerald and Arnold were significantly distanced by four rows and a column from one another. Gerald sat in the second to last right back corner nearest to the exit, while Arnold sat in the far left desk three rows back, against the windows looking out the second story onto the playground. Gerald sat behind a greasy kid that picked his nose and smelled of b.o., but fortunately he was redeemed by sitting beside his latest romantic interest- Nadine.
The day had taken its first bad turn, but he knew it would likely be less distracting to sit next to people he didn't relate to, or know well. Curly sat behind Arnold, and Sid and Rhonda sat in the two seats in front of him. At his right was Helga who scribbled through her notebook incessantly, and never seemed to pay a parcel of attention to anything being discussed in the classroom. He was surrounded by the old back row, excluding a past friend of Eugene's that sat diagonally in front of him taking official 'cornell' style notes and adjusting his heavy, circular frames from time to time in between sniffles.
"Hey...Pssst...Hey, Arnold." Helga whispered.
Arnold looked over with a blank expression and his pencil in hand, "What?"
"Can I borrow that real quick?" Helga asked innocently as she pointed toward the object of her attention.
"...My homework? ..No." Arnold's eyes darted to their teacher instinctively whose back was turned as her wrote instructions on the chalk board.
"Please, please football head. I totally forgot about it, and my dad's gonna kill me if he finds out I failed another take home quiz."
"Why would I? You stole my licorice...and you JUST called me football head."
Helga groaned beneath her breathe in frustration, "Look I'll owe you one okay?"
Arnold sighed, "Ugh fine, just take it."
Helga reached for the paper and began madly replicating answers, which since she was always face down in her personal writings didn't call much attention. Regardless, Arnold hated himself for giving in, but he just wanted to be left alone for the time being.
As their teacher overviewed the chapters last studied in their US History textbooks Arnold tried to distract himself from the crinkled evidence of his misconduct that Helga possessed. It wasn't too hard, and he found himself actually listening to the lecture being given in order to fork the road in his thoughts.
Arnold surrounded himself in the tales of Napoleon and the Louisiana Purchase and the crooked concept of Manifest Destiny. He rest his head on his hands and closed his eyes and drifted in thought as his teacher's droning voice kept a steady, hypnotic rhythm.
As he sat in a state of slouched immobility he heard a subtle noise. It came to him again in the softest tone like the sound of a small crashing wave. It came again and it was followed by another sound he recognized, which he found to be his classmates snickering.
He came to and opened his eyes when he identified the second sound, only to hear the first noise come into translation, "Arnold!"
Realizing it was Helga in an angered whispering tone, he became startled remembering every thought he had banished related to her at the moment. When he turned to see her she pulled back her hand from him that appeared to be holding his borrowed assignment whilst looking behind Arnold toward the front of the room.
It was clear to him what had just happened in that instant. They had been caught.