A/N: Thank you to my two reviewers EJ and Penguin. You guys gave this fiction of mine a chance and I hope that you're both thoroughly enjoying the journey.

Chapter 3: Best You Can Is Good Enough

This system, I've worked it out in my head, over and over again. The system cannot fail us. We are strong. We are the class of PS118. Yet I sense this air, the same air thats always lingered around me. The air was first felt when I was one, my parents leaving me to travel into the jungles. Those same jungles I hate and want to be in so direly. Those jungles are death. The air I feel around my tufts of hair, death.

I try not to think on such matters, reminding myself I am Arnold, keeper and protector of the PS118. I am their leader. So I must lead.

The sun has risen and we awake. Each hungered from the deperivision of food on yesterday's tragic events. My own stomach deceives me and begs for food. I can eat because I am alive and these little facts want to destroy me so desperately. I've been awake for a long while now, watching the transitions of black to red and orange. Back when I was ten I would find comfort in this miracolous artwork from the creator. Now that I'm eleven, I find no solace in its beauty and I question where the creator has gone, if he even exists.

Helga stirs next to me, her arm has a bit of drool on it. She's stirred over twenty times now, her whimpering unnoticed from the others, except me. What she hadn't shown yesterday could be seen in her dreams. I wipe the tears that have spilled from her closed eyes. She is internally pained and it breaks my already broken heart that the strongest amoungst us is breaking.

The seas have come to life and they look upon me as I gaze upon them. We lay facing each other for a long moment, the others exhausted I assume. Instead of trying to read her, I just look upon her face, drinking in these features I've known all my life but had never truly looked upon. Her small round nose, shaped like her middle initial and those pouty lips, the upper much more prominant than the bottom. We scan each other, the sea watches my lips, as if wanting to pull me into the current but they hesitate and reality is upon she and I..again.

"What's the plan?" Helga blunty asks, her voice in a firm whisper.

"The school; collect all the food we can, fix up classrooms so we can have a place to sleep. I figured it has air conditioning and heat, also more room." I gestured to my other side to point out Harold's obnoxious and unhelped snoring.

I could see Helga's lips twitch upward, her hand covering her mouth to supress such a contagious noise. My lips moved upward on their own accord but it was remembered in times such as these laughter, smiling was inappropriate. We both stopped knowing what injustice we served. The silence consumed us for a brief minute until the sun spoke.

"What...what about the bodies?" She looked ill, her face paling.

She didn't need to worry though, I already thought of such things. If I didn't think such things I should have never have taken the role as leader.

"It'll be taken care of within two days, no more than two days." I tap my finger upon my chin, more thoughts flooded.

If the bodies were not taken care of then they would roat and smell. Mr. Kokashka once told me that the dead human body was the worst smelling thing in the world. I don't remember how the subject was spoken upon or why it was but Grandpa and the boarders were upset for such foul conversation at dinner. Though grandma got a thrill out of it. The memories. Then I feel the tapping sensation on my shoulder. My eyes open. When had they closed? Helga is concerned but I must mask these anxities I possess or worry will erupt amoungst her...and the others.

"Come on Arnold, let's wake the others." She begins to stand but my hand reaches to her arm. This electricty, it isn't natural. We both look upon each other and I'm almost at a loss of the words moments I had ago.

"No, let them sleep." I say, she shrugs my touch off, so I am forced to say what needn't be said. "Just lay here...with me for awhile." Her eyes widen and I can see the seas are so still. She lays beside me, her hand laying carelessly between us two.

"Why don't you call me Football Head anymore?" They slip from my mouth and I am grateful that for a change it is normal conversation. Close to normal.

She looks thoughtful and nibbles on her lip. This tempation to touch her lips...it is too frequent. Tuck it away, I command silently.

"When I said it, except the first time, it was a nickname I had for you, a friendly nickname." More surprises, the name was one I never approved of for it was used hatefully the first time she had claimed me as such. My headshape was one I was never insecure about until she had said it. That the girl I had cared for so deeply at three could think so horribly of me, my head.

"Arnold, I say your name because...well...I feel like we..." I watched as she swore under her breath, more confused than I ever had been before. "Look I consider you a friend, my closest friend. And I don't want to lose you over a dumb nickname."

My breath hitched. She considers me a friend. The genuine smile cannot be stopped nor my hand bravely engulfing hers. She gasps and looks to our hands.

"I like Football Head." I mean what I say. It is the one thing that keeps me sane and stay grounded, remind me I am ten. "Just don't say it in front of the others." My eyes glance over to the rest of us who sleep. Her palm touches mine and our fingers together intertwine.

This Helga, this girl...

The first stirring begins and my thoughts are incomplete for I cannot be a ten year old caught up in irrational feelings. I must be their leader. I stand up and wait by the entrance of the aging treehouse. They silently speak amoungst themselves and look upon me. When I am given full attention, I decide to speak this plan.

"We're going to walk to the school and grab something to eat. I think we all need to eat some food. It may be difficult with yesterdays...circumstances but if we want to live on and find out what happened exactly to our friends, teachers...and family, we need to be healthy. Is that okay?" Not one of us spoke out but we all looked to one another waiting for the oppose but none came. So I proceeded on. "Anyway, questions?" I finished.

"What's the plan afterward?" Eugene's hair looked matted and still possessed a great bit of dubre. I looked on to all my friends in their sorry state. Clothes ripped, small cuts filled with dry brown blood and white dubre.

"After lunch, we'll clean up the classrooms a bit and start getting supplies together and hopefully we can all get cleaned up and in decent clothes."

"Why must we clean the classrooms?" Rhonda's arms were crossed as she gave me an indifferent look. Before I could answer her, the sea spoke.

"Duh Rhondaloid, it's going to be our shelter." She rolled her bewitching eyes at the gossip queen and my lips twitched a bit feeling as equally protected.

"How was I supposed to know that. Hmph." Rhonda rolled her eyes and turned away.

"Look Rhonda, the schools provide heat and cold, the walls are stronger than the houses and the cafeteria is big enough for everyone to eat in. Also the classrooms are big enough to place bedding." I had to rationalize and appease, for if they weren't happy and at peace things could get antsy. I've seen it before.

Rhonda seemed to be pleased by this notion and took it upon herself to go home with a few others for carriage for the supplies that could be used.

"Alright then. Rhonda, yourself, Nadine, Park, Lorenzo and Sheena can help you. By the time you guys come back to the school, we'll have something for you all to eat." I reasoned.

Rhonda waved off her hand and slowly went down the ladder, her helpers following after. The rest of us looked amoungst each other and decided to go off Mighty Pete and venture toward the shelter, our future home. In this walk, which wasn't very long but wasn't short either, I took it upon myself to think. During the silent moments, when I'm not bothered by the need to think for others safety along with my own, I recount on the numerous amounts of memory saved with my grandparents and the boarders. A memory flashes to my mind.

It is Friday and school is out. We're all talking about our weekends but I wait till they ask me mine. For I will do the impossible. I have been handed The List. The list no kid has ever managed to accomplish. I've always loved a good challenge and this one will be conquored by me. I believed it strongly.

First, I was to watch every cartoon from six am while eating three bowls of my favorite cereal, Sugar Chunks. That hadn't worked out in my favor, my alarm, the same alarm I've had for years broke on me. My cereal is emptied and the milk is sour. Look on the brightside. I turn on the TV for cartoons and the set implodes, Grandpa's fault.

My mitt and baseball in my hands I take off to the park, only to be jipped and have my ball stolen from Steve, odd character. Look on the brightside.

Grabbing my bike, I went for the steepest hill in Hillwood. I take off lifted the sensation of wind and then an abrupt stop. The roads were being fixed and now my bike will be stuck. Look on the brightside.

I go to the movies, running in glee for this cannot be ruined. Fate couldn't be this cruel to a nine year old. I was wrong. My pocket presents a hole and my money that I worked hard for in chores around the boarding house is easily gone. I beg the woman who is uninterested in my plees. Then the idea hits. The immoral in me. I sneak into the theatre. But karma has beat me, the screen tears and the list was invalid.

There is no brightside, I told myself trudding toward my home. The pigeons keep me company and there she appears. The grey haired angel is floating with a piano. She gives me a kind knowing smile and I am reminded that grandma knows everything even when she isn't told and she heals in her own way.

The piano is played and she sings to me while the sun sets and night consumes us. The brightside is alive because she was.

"When life gets you down wearing a frown. Dont look away look up. Cause memories true come of the blue; you know the way, look up. When skies have gone gray, things gone stray, don't look away, look-"

"Arnold." I'm awaken from this daylike dream. I look to Helga who waits for me. "We're here."

We all walk in and the instructions begin. Helga, Lila, Phoebe, and Eugene proceed to the cafeteria to stock and seperate as much food as possible. While Gerlad, Brainy, Curly, Joey, Stinky, Harold, Sid and I must rid the bodies.

The controversy has already begun, specifically from Sid, disgusted by the job, I don't blame him. Harold only disagrees because he is lazy.

"Look man, this has to be done. We don't want the place stinking up." Gerald speaks with little sympathy and this bothers me.

These bodies once lived, had a breath, spoke and walked.

"I'm going to see if the girls and Eugene need help." Sid took his cap off wiping his hair down. We watched him walk.

"Chicken." Harold spoke out. "Let's...get the dead meat out of the way."

"Please, can we not refer to them as dead meat." I beg. I cannot fathom the lack of sympathy. I do not cringe or cry to be strong for them, their excuse...I find none.

"Sorry er Arnold." Harold apologizes and I am baffled but tragedy changes everyone, I suppose.

We decided to place the bodies in one hallway until we can dig enough graves. The classrooms decided upon were the sixth graders hall. After entering the nurses office to find her crushed from ceiling we look away and grab for the face masks and gloves for safety. Such tragedy leaves bad will, including the smell. It had already begun.

The first classroom holds no dead bodies expect for the teachers. This newfound discovery leads to hysterics and I begin to check in every room to realize that all the children have been taken but the adults remain in their dead state.

"What the hell man?!" Gerald states enraged. This is the second time he has cussed.

"This is darn right freaky y'all!" Stinky puts his heavy hands through his hair. I watch as their faces become confused. Emotions mixed into so many eyes.

"Okay, so we know all the children's dead bodies have been taken." I recount outloud to myself. "But the adults bodies have been left behind. Why though?"

"Yea it's bat crazy!" Gerald becomes hysterical, the child in him still evident.

"This wasn't an accident, Helga's right." I whisper to myself. I clear my throat. "Guys, our class is the only surviving people in Hillwood. The other children have been taken and the adults left behind. There are two possible solutions."

"Aliens." Curly says, one of his lenses is cracked. I take note and this detail bothers me.

"No Curly." I feel exhausted. When will anyone get it? This isn't a joke. We have to grow up. They all need to grow up. I can't do it alone.

"Look man...announce it tomorrow, too much to deal with. We have to finish the job." Gerald slaps his hand on my shoulder and I am reminded he is my bestfriend. This comfort lasts me as I nod and we continue on. Carrying each adult to their resting place..for now.

The last body is Simmons. Our gloves covered in the adults blood and stench. My nose wrinkles for these masks do not protect us from the odor. If I can smell it on us this early on I know that this problem need be taken care of today. The plans real in my mind...so many. And it abruptly stops. Simmons is covered by a heavy block of ceiling, his blood staining the floor and sticky. Brainy's shoe smears in it and I force myself not to feel.

"Let's pull it up together and move it from him." I stammer. I, Gerald, Stinky and Curly on the right of Simmons and Harold, Brainy and Joey his left. I can make out their faces, the digust. They need to vomit. I need to but I will not. Each hand is gripped holding an edge tightly.

"On 3...1...2...3!" We heave with all our might and throw the piece away from Simmons. Startled by the noise a few of us jump and duck as pieces, broken, fly into the air.

I take a few needed breaths and look amoung the lot.

"Everyone alright?" I must ask such questions. Their lives are in my hands. Everyone nods, impatient and yet hestitant to finish the job.

His body is sunken inward, he is crushed from the ceiling piece. This vile ceiling has killed a special person, our teacher. The one teacher who became so involved in our lives and meant that we were each special for not our present talents but the hidden qualities we have hidden from him, the class, the world.

I tug my sweater and plaid shirt off and put it on a desk. This will be messy. The look at me and follow in suit. We carry Simmons and I tighten my eyes for I can feel his sticky cold blood on my flesh. A few moans are heard and the weight feels heavier for Joey has let go to vomit. The brightside. The hallway feels like such a long walk and it is longed for Brainy vomits and Stinky. Harold is red in the face and Gerald bits his lower lip. He is trembling. And I...well I...

Finally we lay him down gently and close his eyes, those dead blue eyes that terrify me. I question what he saw in his last moments. I feel this overwhelming sorrow, it hits everyone for its presence is with us.

Gerald finally releases his pain, so much pain in the form of bile. Harold begins to shake and look at his hands and protruding stomach covered in Simmons dark blood.

I walk to the boys bathroom and they follow after me...slowly. I wash away the filth with wet paper towels, it smears more and I become angered. I scrub harder till my flesh becomes an irritated red.

"Arnold stop." I hear Gerald speak. But theres so much blood.

"Theres still blood Gerald." I scrub harder till I fell the scrapes of recycled paper scrape against my skin unpleasantly. It won't go away.

"Arnold there is no blood. Stop!" I look down at my hands and stomach, I still see the blood. He's lying. How can he not see it. I blink hard to my eye scream for me to stop. My vision reappears and there is no blood but irritated red flesh with blood spots. I looke to Gerald, he is concerned. He pitys me. I storm out to retrieve my shirt.

Lunch. We walk down the hallways, each man making a silent promise to never repeat the horrors we had to endure today. I will not tell the others that boys had gotten sick today, boys had cried today, and that boys had their hands and tummies covered in another mans blood.

"I smell food." Harold mumbles but the silence is so evident he sounds clear. I smell it too but the odor we endured earlier will not leave me though my stomach decieves me again.

We walk into the cafeteria to see trays set out at one large table, enough for everyone. Each has a grilled cheese on it and steaming red soup. One of my favorite dishes.

Sid puts spoons on each tray and Eugene holds a pile of napkins. Phoebe is already sitting at a table a tray in front of her with steaming food. Harold runs over and sits at the end. Digging into his meal. He hums to himself happily. At least one of us is happy.

"This is great! Who cooked?" Harold slurps loudly.

"Helga did, she's great." Sid winks at her and my fist clench. I breathe deeply and shake my head. I cannot think such things.

"Lila helped with the soup." Helga shurgs. For once, she doesn't berate the red head. She smiles shyly at Helga. This change I find bafling and yet I am glad. Helga is being who I have always wanted to see...it took tragedy.

Noise errupts as Rhonda and the rest of the PS118 enter. They each carry pillows, comforters, towels, soap, and clothes. I nod at her and she smirks, satisfied with her good deed.

"Set em to the side. Lunch, as promised." I gesture toward the table.

"Such genaric food, suppose I'll have to get used to it." Rhonda seats herself beside her dearest friend. Gerald sits next to Phoebe and Helga frowns. I sit and tap the empty spot beside me. She sits without a word. We eat silently. Everyone finishing rather quickly while I stare down at my food, cold now.

"Arnold eat...please." The blonde girl whispers to me. I nod and try my best to chew and swallow each bite of sandwhich. Each bite however doesn't taste better than the last. The stench won't leave, the blood on my hands still feel like they are there. But I eat on. Feeling more sick.

The others finish and I decide to dismiss them.

"Gerald will show you guys where we will reside. It still needs to be cleaned though a bit. The janitor's closet should supply you guys. Afterward, head to the lockerrooms. The water seems to be working fine still. Take a shower and change into the clothes, Rhonda has provided." I notice Rhonda smiling at our classmates. "The earlier cooking crew can fix dinner..." I take a deep breath. My stomach is clenching without my permission. Helga puts her hand on my back. I stand up tall. I must continue. "The rest of you, Rhonda in lead, situate the room. Understood?"

The crowd nods and gets to work, leaving Helga and I. I run outside the courtyard and finally the sickness leaves me. Each pulling urge hurts as I vomit more into the grass begging for the pain to disappear, the blood but I vomit more. A sick acid bubbling within. Helga rubs circles into my back and repeats 'it's okay'. But it isn't okay...it never will be.

The tasks are done. The classrooms cleaned, the filth gone down the drain, fresh clothes worn, dinner cooking and the room becoming situated. Now is my chance.

"Gerald take care of things, while I'm gone." I pat him on his shoulder. He looks confused and displeased but he does gracuously.

"Hey Stinky." I call him to the side and the plan is devised. Our destination a simple walk to the Peterson home and an even faster route back to the shelter. We make it in time for dinner. Tomato soup, leftover meatloaf and bread.

Comforters litter around, all cushioned by massive amounts of pillows. I see them, two girsl alone. One with red hair and another with sea envious eyes. Both on different spectrums of the classroom. My decision isn't easy but I have already made my choice...within my thoughts. It says go to the sea and I do.

Pillow talk begins to consume everyone but they speak in whispers and I look upon Helga who is staring at me, reading me. She and I do everything similiar including analyzing one another.

"Where did you learn how to cook?" I ask.

"Myself really." She says, her voice is much more sweeter, there is no fight. "Mirium would never be awake long enough to actually finish cooking. She almost always burnt the house down." She chuckles at this information while I try to make out her home. The visuals are never really pleasant. "So I would finish it off and eventually she all together just forgot to cook. Bob had a cow and because I didn't want to hear his yap I cooked. Those cooking shows do wonders. But I'm only a kid, so nothing special will ever be made. We don't have enough supplies for that anyway."

"I'll get that fixed tomorrow."

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"How are you able to know and take care of everyone? It's...admirable." My breath hitches. She thinks I'm admirable.

"I just...have to, I guess." No better answer is found. Her hand touches mine and my eyes look unto her tiny hand on top of mine.

"You don't have to do it alone. Don't feel like you do." She sheepishly grins and begins to move it away. "Cause you know...I..well..I'm pretty good at these...things." She stutters in that way she does when I find her in an alley or behind a dumpster.

I grip her hand in mine and simply nod. She doesn't know that I'm not doing this alone, that she provides me the strength to continue on, to not be consumed by these dark thoughts. She will know..someday.

I wait until the last child is asleep. Many of us huddled closely to those we care and are comforted by more. Helga lay beside me whimpering. I pat her back until peace comes to her. She sighs and sleeps gently. I look upon who is needed for this task. I must pick the least effected, the strongest males for such a job. I myself must prepare for the dirty job that is to be committed. I inhale the clean air and exhale softly.

I tap awake Stinky, his one eye opens first but he stands and leaves the classroom as instructed. Next Curly and Brainy, the latter more excited for his unknown job than the other. Joey is next, I instruct him to wake Harold. Harold loudly stirs but it quieted by a small kick from Joey. I must later remind him of his violence. I go over to Gerald who lay next to Phoebe, a protective arm engulfing her to him. The sight is sweet and my inner friend is happy that he finally has made his courtship with the asian but I am reminded how it happened and that I have a job to do.

"Gerald." I stir him, he swats at me lazily. I sigh and stir him again this time a carved pencil point at my throat. I do not move and Gerald's exhausted red eyes look me over, a bit too long and puts it away as if he did immediately.

"Arnold man, what's going on." I shush him and nudge my head toward the classroom door. The two of us walk out and are greeted with the other five boys. They look at me expectantly. So I give them the job.

"We need to get the dead bodies out of our homes. I asked you guys because I believe you are the strongest...mentally and physically for such a task." My voice is foreign to me but I speak on. "I can understand if you do not wish to but this needs to be done."

We are all silent, I look amoungst each boy and they nod at me, one at a time, Gerald being last. The five boys leave Gerald and I behind.

"We're in this together Arnold." Gerald held his thumb out. The memories drown me. My thumb sticks out and it is agreed upon. I however cannot stop thinking about the pencil Gerald possessed...I cannot think such things. There is more importance to take care of.

We step outside the school yard and walk down the street right where Stinky and I left our help.

"WHOA." Harold says. The other boys, except Stinky and I, look in awe at the help.

"A truck?!" Gerald his give away squeek appears, the signs of aging. We are all getting older.

"Yep, Stinky can drive it too."

"Wow Stinky...that's cool." Joey's mising teeth are apparent in his wide smile. Funny how grown up things are amazing to us, to me. When, now, we all must do these things everyday from now onward. Especially I, as leader.

"Shot gun."

"Shot gun."

"Shot gun third!" Curly pronounces strongly. His antics haven't seemed to die. Is he in denial?

"No fair." Harold says.

"I'll ride with you in the back." I declare.

Gerald, Harold and I sit patiently in the huge space in the back of the open truck. Stinky starts the car and the two boys near me are in awe that he even knew to start such a mighty machine.

I am reminded of Gerald and Helga driving a bus on our escape from FTI. The memories ripple through me and my hair as Stinky drives around to the back building. Then the work must begin.

We heave bodies into the back of the truck, piling each on top of the other. Gloves on our hands, masks covering our faces but the act and the stench never leave us.

"Curly, Brainy and Joey. The rest of us have it. Thank you and good night." I don't ask, I demand. For if they see me falter, I will be held for judgment.

Gerald sits beside me and Harold beside Stinky. I have the window seat, my head rests on my arm, my arm nestled on the open window pane. I look at our ruined city. No life left behind, though the lights from the street lights still glow, the sound, the soul is gone. I'm really too young to be feeling this old.

We stop at Mr. Potts' old working site. And dump the bodies one by one into the hole. I am saddened that I could do no better for them but this is the way it must be. My eyes are heavy but I cannot sleep for the burden is deep and the tasks still not quite done. I watch as Stinky directs a hose gushing water all over the back truck. Gerald and Harold wipe it down with spare towels and we lay a blanket. Tomorrow I'll send Stinky out and Rhonda to get as many supplies possibly. I'll write a list when I get back.

These mental notes haunt me and replay constantly as we arrive at the school. We wash up in the boys restroom. Tissue. Another note taken. Consumed by exhausten, we lay down to sleep. I lay beside a stirring Helga, patting her back till she is soothed once more. I cannot sleep. Today another burden. The blood never leaves my mind and I escape silently out the classroom.

I sit in the old classroom, my old classmates and I shared. The open wall revealing the night sky that soon turns to morning gray. A presence is felt beside me, I must look over for it isn't the sea envious eyed girl, it's Gerald. We sit silently watching as now the sky is gray. No words are exchanged and this moment reminds me of those many times we stayed awake during the weekends. Those memories that will never seem to fade and keep me going.

"Arnold I saw something." He finally speaks, I perk up.

"What?"

Gerald sighs deeply, a rock enfolded in his hand. "Some of the adults weren't killed by...whatever happened."

This information startles me and I have no words. What is he expressing to me? What else could have been the cause? Don't say what I fear...All thoughts. All unsaid.

"Then what?" I ask, going with the simplier.

"Bullets."

Speechless. "So you're saying..."

"I'm saying, whatever happened. What killed our friends and families was done purposely." He interrupts me. Anger flashes.

"Why are you just telling me this Gerald?!" Did this terrfiying force drift us? We can't even tell each other things anymore? All unsaid.

"I had to think, okay...these things...it's hard. I keep thinking about the morning everything happened. I was horrible to my family. I told them I hated them before I left for school." He throws the rock hard. It goes a far distance outside. I search for the right words and they come. They always do.

"They know you didn't mean it. And you didn't mean it. That's what should matter." I say them but do I mean it? I never told my family I loved them either or thanked Grandpa and Grandma for being there for me. No, I said nothing. I secretly seethed. For my only thought, my darkest thoughts were that I am an orphan. Now it is the truth. Regrets.

"Still...I just wish I could take it all back. Timberly." Gerald puts his face into his hands and openly cries. His sobbing creeps into my own soul and when times get like this, I fall back into the memories.

I'm not sure what I'm doing but I need to do it. I begin to sing.

"When life gets you down, wearing a frown. Dont look away, look up." He doesn't stir, so I continue, more enthusiasm instead of a whisper.

"Cause memories true, come of the blue; you know the way, look up." His hands slip from his face and look upon my face, he sees a somber smile upon it.

"When skies have gone gray, things gone stray, don't look away, look up."

"When you're feeling under the weather, and the dark clouds are getting to you, keep your troubles light as a feather, and soon you'll be seeing a bright patch of blue..."

"You gotta look up, you gotta be strong, you gotta take things as they come..." I say the last few words because they are strong and true. Grandma always knows, even now she knew, I bet.

"Cause everything new that happens to you is better when you...look up!" My voice was never the best but I sing the last lyric tenderly. As if I'm singing with Grandma.

The sky begins to glow and the first morning bird chirps. I gaze upon the beauty. Today is a new day, a new start. This is the true first day of survival.

"When I look up I think of Grandma. Maybe you can think of Timberly?" I don't look at him just gaze at the future. The silence consumes us and nature bewitches us. He doesn't nor I. This is okay though. We are still the same Arnold and Gerald. I believe it, strongly.

"It's a deal." He speaks to the dawn.

A/N: The memory and song of Arnold's is from the episode "The List" I choose this particular episode because it is one of the true times where we see Arnold attempting to be a kid. Though it didn't go his way, his grandmother who sung "Look Up" gave Arnold his brightside back. And this fic is quite dark, but I have to remind myself constantly that they're 11/12. So with that being said, the song is a haven for our poor blonde hero.

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