A/N: I do not own Hey Arnold, the show belongs to Craig Bartlett.

"Yuck," Helga said, turning her nose up to a display of pistachio pudding. "Who eats pistachio?"

"Principal Wartz likes it," the head lunch lady said.

"So does the kid with the bowl cut," added Maura, the other lunch lady. Helga was vaguely familiar with her; she was one of Olga's high school friends.

"Curly's taste buds are my taste enemies," Helga said.

Arnold laughed. Helga grinned.

They both bought mashed potatoes and headed to their table, but Helga was still frustrated. "We lost tapioca to pistachio?"

"I know," Arnold said. "But Wednesday's only two days away."

"We shouldn't have to wait until Wednesday, Arnold. We used to get it four times a week!"

Phoebe and Gerald arrived about a minute later. Gerald had taken a pistachio pudding.

"What's wrong, Arnold?" Phoebe asked, glancing at his mashed potatoes and chocolate milk. "Don't you like turkey?"

"School turkey tastes weird," Arnold said. "Plus Helga wanted mashed potatoes, but she didn't have lunch money."

"It's a good thing you brought enough," Helga said to Arnold.

"Well, I...didn't check this month's menu. I thought we were gonna have chicken parm."

"I didn't know we'd get pistachio," Gerald said. "They never used to have it on Mondays."

"They used to have tapioca on Mondays." Helga looked around the cafeteria to see how many kids had taken pistachio cups. Curly had actually taken two, and at least one fifth-grader took one, but most of the kids in line passed it by.

"Their reason for changing it is illogical," Phoebe said. "They said tapioca was too costly, but pistachios are notably expensive."

"It's Wartz's favorite pudding flavor," Helga said. "That's why they have it and not tapioca."

"You know," Gerald said, "they sell tapioca pudding at stores."

"My grandma bought some last week." Arnold said. "I had a cup, but I didn't like the pearls. They were so small that my tongue thought they were dirt."

Helga laughed. "Your tongue thought they were dirt?"

"The pearls," Arnold said. "They weren't big like the school ones."

Helga still didn't understand, but decided to take his word for it. "Well, maybe we should protest. We could hold the milks hostage until Wartz gives in."

"How would we do that?" Arnold asked.

"What if we get detention?" Phoebe sounded worried.

"Pfft." Helga waved her hand dismissively. "You won't get detention, and neither will Arnold. I get detention for looking at Wartz the wrong way."

"You could get suspended," Phoebe said, "or even expelled."

The word expelled made Helga shudder. Expulsion meant being separated from Arnold, not to mention a hefty punishment from Big Bob.

"On second thought, let's make picket signs."

Helga didn't think it would take long to make a sign, but Arnold insisted on doing his homework first. Helga got supplies from Arnold's house—white construction paper, markers, a ruler, and a roll of masking tape.

Helga uncapped a black marker. "I'll copy your homework when I'm done, OK?"

Arnold turned pale. "Um, actually..."

"Come on, love! It's just homework! Simmons won't even see yours because you have a check-up tomorrow!" Arnold's appointment was in the morning, though, so knowing him, he'd show up at school after recess.

Arnold sighed. "OK, Helga. You can copy it."

"Great." Helga wrote WE WANT TAPIOCA on a piece of construction paper. "Whaddya think?"

Arnold glanced at it. "Looks good."

Helga taped the ruler to it. "I wonder if I should make extras for other kids." She'd told a few kids at recess about the protest, and all four had agreed to join her, but she hadn't informed any of the younger kids. She imagined most ten-year-olds liked holding signs.