A/N: Shout-out to the people who left reviews! I appreciate both of you.

Also, if you haven't read my older fics, I should clarify that Helga started eating breakfast at Sunset Arms.

While Arnold was eating breakfast on Tuesday, his grandpa, Phil, flipped through a newspaper.

"They keep advertising that Pragma Senior Living," Phil said. "Maybe we should move there, Pookie."

"Magma Senior Living?" Gertie squinted. "Who would want to live near a volcano?"

Miles chuckled. "Oh, Mom...always a comedian."

"They have a theater room," Phil said. "And restaurant-style dining!"

Arnold hoped that his grandpa wasn't serious. Arnold's parents had been in a coma for most of his childhood, so he saw Phil as a father figure. It would be strange to visit him at some senior home.

"Those places can be expensive," Stella said. "I saw one charging two-thousand a month, and that was the nineties. I'm sure it costs more in this new...strange decade." Stella and Miles had only been awake for a month, so they were still adjusting to aughties culture.

"They might accept Apple Health," Phil said, referring to Washington's Medicaid program. "And if they don't, I have a retirement fund."

"I think it's a great idea!" Oskar Kokoshka said.

"If that's what you want, Phil," Stella said. "Miles and I can certainly take care of Sunset Arms."

Arnold sunk in his chair. What if grandpa gets hurt at Pragma? What if I'm not there when he...dies?

"Can I be excused?" Helga asked. "I should head to school."

"Have fun," Stella said.

"I'll try," Helga said. She kissed Arnold's cheek. "Good luck at your yearly check-up, love. And try not to catch a cold from some toddler."

Arnold forced himself to smile. "OK, Helga."

"Alright, Arnold," Dr. Steiglitz said, "everything looks normal. Now all you need is a flu shot."

"OK," Arnold said. He didn't mind needles.

Phil and Stella were in the room with him; Miles had chosen to stay home. "That didn't take long," Stella said. "It's not even eleven yet."

After leaving the room for a few minutes, Dr. Steiglitz came back in. "Are you ready for your shot, Arnold?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Think of something nice," Phil suggested.

Arnold tried to picture his girlfriend. I hope the protest doesn't get her in trouble. Maybe I should—ow—get to school before lunch.

The doctor put a band-aid on Arnold's arm.

"Grandpa?" Arnold asked. "Can you drop me off at school?"

"Oh, Arnold," Stella said. "You should take the day off! We could eat lunch at a restaurant!"

"Your backpack is at home," Phil pointed out.

Right, Arnold realized. "Then take me home and I'll walk to school."

Phil laughed. "Anxious to get rid of me, eh? Don't worry, short man. I'll move to Pragma in a couple weeks."

Arnold's heart sunk. "But grandpa, I...don't want you to go."

"Why not, short man? You can always visit me."

"Pragma Senior Living?" Dr. Steiglitz asked. "That's a beautiful place."

"You oughta think about moving there, Murray," Phil said. "You should be retired by now."

Stella gasped. "Phil!"

"What? It's true!"

Stella stood up. "Let's get going. It's freezing in here."

Although he couldn't get his mind off his grandpa, Arnold still went to school. He showed up just in time for lunch, and Helga seemed happy to see him.

"You'll get chicken parm after all," Helga said, as she walked with Arnold to the cafeteria. "Oh, Arnold...I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," Arnold replied. "But shouldn't we be boycotting lunch?"

"Crap, you're right." Helga said. "Do you like store-brand chicken parm?"

"Yeah," Arnold said. "I eat it for dinner once a week."

When they arrived at their lunch table, Helga took her sign out of her backpack. She also brought a referee whistle.

"Uh, Helga? Maybe you shouldn't—"

"PREEEP!" Helga had blown the whistle. "Stop buying lunch! They cut back on dessert and it isn't fair!"

Phoebe held up a sign that read, STOP BUDGET CUTS.

Arnold held up the sign that Helga made. He tried to think of something persuasive to say, but he couldn't. It felt like everyone was staring at him.

"Helga's right!" said Crystal, a sixth-grader with red hair and glasses. "We want tapioca back!"

There was chatter among kids in the lunch line, including Harold, Sid and Stinky. Gerald was seated at Arnold's table, eating a lunch he brought from home.

The head lunch lady looked at Maura. "Go call Principal Wartz."