High tops were not made to run in. Arnold wished he had known this earlier. Maybe then he could have saved his poor throbbing ankles. But he didn't have the breath to even complain as he ran through the streets behind Gerald, Harold, Stinky, and Sid. What was left of their eggs fell out of their shirts and hoodies and splattered on the sidewalk.

"You boys, freeze!" The officer yelled at them as the sirens blared, "Halt! Immediately!"

Long standing obedience almost made Arnold pause, but fear kept his feet running. Panic had a choke hold on him, making the blood pound inside his head. How did this happen? Why was this happening? He could have been home; watching a movie with grandpa, playing poker with grandma, surfing the internet or even doing his homework. How did he end up running from the cops?

"Left! Into the alleyway!" Gerald called up ahead before making a sharp turn and disappearing.

One after the other they ran after him, Arnold starting to lag even behind Harold. The sirens were beginning to close in on them and the officer was hot on their trail, still yelling for them to stop. A tall fence loomed ahead, practically promising their capture. But without breaking stride, Gerald jumped on top of a dumpster, leaped onto the fence and began climbing. Stinky, one of the tallest guys in school, didn't need to jump off the dumpster to get an advantage. Sid followed Gerald's example, using the bottom of the fire escape to reach the top of the fence in one leap. Even Harold, a 5'11 solid wall of muscle and fat, managed to leap on and climb over the fence in record speed.

If they can make, it so can I. If they can make, it so can I. Arnold repeated to himself, hoping to gain some false confidence.

Emphasis on false.

He tripped over his own shoelaces. Just as he started to jump after his friends and towards his freedom, his foot inexplicitly got caught in his own shoelaces and he fell flat on his face. The breath left Arnold's body as he crashed down onto the concrete and he tasted copper in his mouth.

"Arnold!" he heard Gerald shout, but it was quickly drowned out by the blare of sirens and angry, stomping feet. He sat up only to be blinded by the cops' flashlights. This was it, he was going to get arrested, go to jail, and spend the rest of his life chipping at rocks or making license plates.

And all Arnold could think was, Why did I ever listen to my so-called friends?

Ten Hours Earlier:

The hallways were as crowded as usual in between class changes. But no matter how crowded it was, there seemed to be a natural part as Arnold walked with Gerald to their lockers. They didn't have to ask or push through, everyone just seemed naturally moved out their way. Gerald always had this natural swagger and confidence though that you couldn't help but notice. Five-foot-eleven, and well built, Gerald stood out in a crowd with natural looks and charm. As he walked, he had a smile and a nod for everyone. It was something that Arnold always liked about him. Conceited as he was sometimes, Gerald was rarely rude. At least, not to the person's face. Arnold, on the other hand, considered himself more average. He felt like he was nice enough and had plenty of good friends, but he didn't think he really stood out.

"You know what your problem is, man?" Gerald nudged Arnold, "you never do anything with your life."

"Really?" Arnold blinked and looked him, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Gerald's smirk increased, "You know what I mean, bro. In my years of knowing you, you've always been the good guy. The guy who follows the rules only makes the best choices. The riskiest thing you've ever done is order extra bacon on your burger. And I think it's time we changed that."

Arnold sighed and rolled his eyes, "Gerald, not again…"

"No seriously, you're too good for your own good," Gerald persisted with a smirk, "you know, everyone calls you Two-Shoes Shortman for a reason."

Arnold scoffed and opened his locker to put his books inside before they headed to the cafeteria. He loved Gerald like a brother, but his input on how to improve his life was getting a bit old. It was something he was used to though. He was the same way; constantly trying to get Gerald to do more good deeds and care less about the "it" crowd. Balancing each other's personalities was part of what kept them friends for so long.

Gerald punched his arm to get his attention, "Are you even listening to me? I'm trying to give you good advice."

"And your advice is for me to start breaking rules?" Arnold laughed, "Thanks, Gerald, but I think I'd rather accept my Two-Shoes title proudly than risk getting into trouble."

"Who said anything about getting into trouble? Just a little… harmless rule breaking."

Gerald's eyes twinkled in a way that set off mild warning bells in Arnold's head. He started to frown, but then Gerald gave him that famous disarming friendly smile and draped his arms around his shoulders as they started walking again.

"Just come out with me and the guys tonight," Gerald practically begged, "it's going to be awesome and you'll be sorry if you miss it."

"Maybe," Arnold relented, "but no promises."

Gerald grinned and slapped him on the back, "Thatta boy!"

Arnold rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile at his best friend's enthusiasm. If anything, at least now he had something to do tonight. Earlier, his only plans consisted of homework and gin rummy with grandpa. A loud chorus of giggles sounded from down the hall, distracting his attention. Beside him, Gerald suddenly straightened up and plastered his signature "lady-killer" smile on his face.

"Here come the ladies," he said in a low voice to Arnold, "I hear Rhonda's been asking about you."

"Really? Why?"

Before Gerald had a chance to respond, the sound of heels got closer until Rhonda Lloyd and her posse rounded the corner. They walked in a literal formation, headed of course by Rhonda herself, the only one who even attempted to walk beside her was her best friend Nadine. The rest of the girls followed at a respectful half pace behind them.

"Dang, Rhonda looks good," Gerald nodded approvingly, "I don't know how that girl stays single."

"Maybe because she hasn't found anyone special yet?" Arnold shrugged indifferently, "Can we go the cafeteria now? I'm getting hungry and the rest of the guys are probably waiting for us."

"Hey, Gerald. Arnold. You two are looking well today."

Rhonda stopped in front of them, openly appraising them. Her eyes then settled on Arnold and her red glossy lips parted in a smile.

"Arnold, that shirt is absolutely darling on you," she reached up and laid a hand on his chest, feeling the material between her fingers, "Is it new?"

"Um, no… I wore it last week," Arnold smiled politely but gently dislodged her fingers from his shirt, "Gerald and I were just heading to lunch. Would you like to join us?"

"You mean, eat that garbage they force feed us?" Rhonda's lips curled down in disgust, "No thanks. But… call me if you want to do a real dinner."

Rhonda then gave him a small wink and with a snap of her fingers, her posse followed as she continued her trek down the hallway. Arnold breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against his locker. Talking to Rhonda was two parts intimidating and one part exhausting. Gerald gave a low whistle and punched his arm.

"Arnold, you dog you," Gerald grinned, "You are one lucky guy."

"No Gerald, I am one hungry guy," Arnold sighed in impatience, "Can we get some food now or what?"

Gerald gave an impatient sigh of his own, "Do I really have to spell it out for you? Rhonda wants you to ask her out!"

"Oh no, I got that. She wasn't very subtle."

"She shouldn't have to be. She's Rhonda Wellington Lloyd!"

Arnold rolled his eyes and started walking, "I'm getting lunch without you, Gerald."

He barely moved away a few feet though when he tripped on nothing and crashed into someone on his way down. They both shouted in surprise and pain as they collided. Books and papers flew everywhere as Arnold landed hard in a painful tangle of knees and elbows.

"Owwww," Arnold groaned and struggle to untangle himself, "Sorry, I-"

"Why don't you watch where you're going?!" The person underneath him elbowed him hard, knocking Arnold hard into the linoleum floor. Once the stars in his vision cleared, Arnold's first reaction was to get angry, but he swallowed it down, owning up to the fact that he was the one who tripped and knocked them over. He looked over to apologize, feeling even worse when he realized that he had knocked over a girl. She was wearing baggy jeans and a dark hoodie. The hood was pulled up making it hard to see her face, but it wasn't hard to see her dark scowl. She wasn't even looking at him, focusing instead on gathering up her scattered things.

"Oh geez, I'm really, really sorry," Arnold apologized, "It was all my fault and-"

"Darn right it was your fault!" She snatched the remaining papers from his hands and stood up, quickly moving away from him. "Next time, don't be such a klutz!" She yelled over her shoulder.

Gerald appeared by Arnold's side and helped him to his feet. He glared at the girl's quickly retreating back and called after her, "Oh yeah, how about next time you don't act like such a witch about it!?"

Without bothering to turn around, the girl responded with a raised middle finger. She stomped down the hall and students scurried to get out of her way. Gerald mumbled some choice words under his breath, but Arnold decided to let it go. He for one never saw the point in staying angry at strangers. By the time he and Gerald reached the cafeteria and got their lunches, Sid, Stinky, and Harold were already at their usual table waiting for them.

Sid was one the track team with Gerald and always seemed to be on the fringes of almost everyone's social circle. Any party that was thrown, Sid seemed to know about it about the same time as Gerald. Even though Stinky lived in the city for almost ten years now, he still somehow retained his country accent. Tallest guy in the school and forward on the basketball team though, no one made fun of him for it much. Harold was the biggest and the bulkiest of their group, which earned him a spot on the football team. Arnold was the only one of their group that wasn't in any sports.

"Sorry we're late fellas," Gerald said sitting down, "We almost had an altercation with some nasty chick in the hallway."

"Gerald," Arnold gave him an annoyed look, "I ran into her, and it wasn't like she was the only reason why we were late, remember?"

"Who cares why you guys were late!" Sid interrupted, high strung as usual, "all I care about is whether we're still doing…" He paused and leaned forward, looking around as if to make sure that no one was listening in on them before he continued, "you know… that thing we have planned for tonight."

"We better, I already got the four dozen eggs," Harold cast a suspicious glance at Arnold, "He's not going to snitch, is he?"

"Arnold ain't no snitch," Gerald shot him a glare, "A total boy scout, but not a snitch. Besides, he's in this with us."

"I um… never totally said that…" Arnold picked at his spaghetti, starting to feel annoyed with them all. When he glanced up he noticed that they were all exchanging looks. "What?"

Stinky rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and spoke first, "Arnold, you know we like you and all that. Heck, the whole school thinks you're a great person but…"

"We'd kinda knew you'd bail," Sid interrupted bluntly, "when it comes to stuff like this, you're kind of like white rice and vanilla ice cream. Safe and boring. Which isn't a bad thing-"

"I'm not boring!" Arnold looked around the table in shock, "Who said I was boring?"

They all exchanged looks again and Arnold could feel his face growing hot from embarrassment and irritation. "I'm not boring!"

"Are too! The riskiest thing you've ever done is cross the street without a crossing guard!" Harold mocked with a loud laugh earning a snicker from the table.

"I am not boring!" Arnold declared, "And to prove it, I'm coming with you guys tonight! Whatever you're planning, I'm in."

"That's my boy!" Gerald grinned ear to ear and clapped him on the back, "Told you guys he was cool."

Arnold let out a long breath and shoveled more food into his mouth, swallowing it along with any regrets. If he backed out now, his boring goody-two-shoes persona could stick for good. Besides, the guys might be a little rowdy sometimes, but they weren't criminals. Whatever they were planning couldn't be that bad, could it?

It could.

The risky thing that Gerald and the guys was a literal criminal offense. Arnold should have known that when Gerald texted him at home and told him to meet them in the back of a store at midnight wearing all black. Anxiety twisted his stomach all evening but at eleven-fifty-five Arnold put on a black sweater, dark jeans, and black high-tops. Sneaking out of the house wasn't hard either. The borders were in their rooms for the night and his grandpa would be in his private bathroom for the next hour or so. By the time he made it to the appointed spot, Gerald, Sid, Stinky, and Harold were already there with several cartons of eggs in their hands. Gerald smiled when he spotted him and waved him over.

"Told you guys he would show," Gerald said proudly, "Now let's get this party started."

Arnold eyed the eggs suspiciously and frowned, "Don't tell me-"

"We're egging my stupid neighbor's house," Sid crowed with excitement, "He's been a pain in my butt for a month and it's time to send him a message."

"I am not egging someone's house!" Arnold shook his head in exasperation, "Maybe if you sat down with your neighbor and talked to him-"

"And maybe you can go back home and have your grandma bake you some cookies," Harold taunted him, "Or are you not allowed to have sweets after your bedtime?"

Arnold narrowed his eyes, "Fine, I'll come. But I'm not throwing any eggs."

"Let's just go already before morning," Gerald said impatiently, "Sid, lead the way."

Even though there were still plenty of people out late at night, no one seemed to pay attention to five boys dressed in all black carrying eggs. The foot traffic began to clear out towards Sid's neighborhood, Arnold felt his courage beginning to ebb. He had been half hoping that an adult would realize what they were up to and stop them. But there was no such luck as they finally reached the house Sid wanted to exact his revenge on. The house in front of them was small and shabby, making Arnold feel even worse. The poor man's house was already a mess; eggs would probably be an improvement at this point. But the guys were practically shaking with excitement as they opened their cartons and got their eggs ready.

"Okay, on my count," Sid whispered, "One… two… three!"

The words barely left his mouth before the guys unleashed a torrent of eggs at the stranger's house. The eggs exploded against the painted wood and the door leaving clear and yellow splatters everywhere. Forgetting the need to be quiet, the guys laughed and whooped at each messy impact. But suddenly, a light came on inside the house and an angry voice began shouting.

"Hey! Who's out there!?"

"Suck on these, Mr. Walters!" Sid yelled and continued to throw more eggs.

"Guys, shouldn't we go now?" Arnold whispered in alarm.

Gerald glanced over at him and frowned, "Arnold, you haven't thrown a single egg! Come on man, where's your sense of humor?"

"You hooligans are going to pay for this senseless vandalism!"

"Oh I'm sorry, I think I left it with him!"

"Come on Arnold, you got to throw one," Stinky insisted throwing two eggs at a time. They hit the door in rapid succession, "It's fun!"

"And we're not leaving until you do!"

Arnold could feel his heart pounding in his throat and sweat was beginning to pool under his arms. He could practically imagine hearing the man's footsteps as he stomped down the stairs and sirens began to sound in the distance. And as the sirens got closer, the panic began to swell. Do it, be a criminal. Don't do it, be a scoop of vanilla ice cream forever.

"Arnold!"

"Give me that!" Arnold snatched an egg and hurled it at the door just as the man opened it. Everyone stopped and watched it sail through the air, nowhere near the door, and crash through the window. There was a collective gasp and they all looked at Arnold and back at the broken window. No one moved or breathed. Then the sirens rounded the corner.

"Ruuuun!" Sid shouted and took off, and everyone else a split second later.

Then there was the alleyway, the fence, and Arnold's face against the sidewalk. He could taste blood in his mouth as he sat up and was immediately blinded by the cops' flashlights. He didn't bother looking around for his friends. He knew they were long gone and he wasn't even sure if he could blame them.

"Alright son, on your feet."

The blinding light finally moved out of Arnold's face and he found himself looking up sheepishly at two stern looking cops, a man, and a woman. Arnold held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and was hoisted up by his elbows.

"I-I'm really sorry," Arnold pleaded, "I-I didn't mean to-"

"Save it for the station kid," One of the cops cut him off and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, "I hate doing this to a kid, but we gotta follow procedure."

Arnold swallowed thickly, but obediently put his hands behind his back and allowed the handcuffs to be secured on his wrists without a struggle. The ominous click sounded so final that for a minute tears beaded in Arnold's eyes. This was it. Goodbye college, goodbye future. He was now a criminal and would be for the rest of his life. Arnold was helped into the back of the police car and the officers settled themselves in the front seats. As one adjusted his mirrors and prepared to back out, he glanced at Arnold in the rear-view mirror.

"Hey kid, don't look so hangdog," He chuckled, "you ain't going to the big house."

Arnold looked up in surprise, "I'm not?"

But the second officer elbowed her partner in the side, "We can't promise that until we know if the man decides if he wants to press charges or not."

"It was just a prank," Arnold pleaded desperately, "we- I mean, I didn't mean to break the window. It was an accident!"

"Oh yeah? Tell it to the judge!" The officers then began to laugh as like it was the funniest joke in the world.

Arnold sat for the rest of the ride in terrified silence. He had never been arrested before and didn't have any clue what was going to happen to him. Breaking windows and egging were both criminal offenses. The law wasn't too severe, but what if this went on some file somewhere? What would his grandparents think? Arnold had been planning on applying to colleges in another year; would the admissions board even take a second glance at his application with a criminal charge under his name? His lower lip was beginning to feel numb and he didn't need a mirror to tell it was busted. Arnold closed his eyes and leaned his head against the glass. The only bright side to all this was that at least no one could call him boring anymore.

The police station wasn't as crowded as he thought it would be. Arnold sat at a chair next to one of the arresting officer's desk. He had been given ice to hold to his lip and had a cup of untouched coffee. The officer barely paid any attention to him as he typed up a report. When Arnold craned his neck a little to the left he could see the other officer in a room with a man who Arnold assumed was Mr. Walters. Even though he couldn't hear what he was being said, Arnold could see by Mr. Walters's stance be was furious. He looked like he was around forty with tight weathered, dark skin and oiled black hair receding from his forehead. He was leaning on a cane making Arnold feel even worse for what he did.

"Attica! Attica! Attica!"

There was a collective groan in the police station as an all too familiar cry sounded. Arnold sunk lower in his seat as his grandma marched into the police station holding a hand painted, "Free Arnold!" sign in her hands. Several officers immediately rushed over to head her off while his grandpa came up behind her and waved them all off.

"Alright, calm down, calm down," Grandpa Phil said in clear annoyance, "Now where's my grandson?"

Arnold weakly raised his head and waved, "Right here, grandpa."

"Shortman, what's all this about?" Phil peered closer at his lip, "you get into a street fight or something? Rob a bank?"

"Sir, I'm Officer Bennet," The officer stood up to address Phil directly, "your grandson and his friends vandalized a man's house tonight. The other boys ran off before we could identify them, but we managed to catch him. He busted his lip trying to escape."

"I tripped and fell," Arnold explained weakly.

"Yep, the Shortman Clumsiness Curse strikes again," Grandpa Phil chuckled and stroked his chin. "So what's going to happen now? I'm an old man and I can't be staying up at all hours while you play cops and robbers with my grandson."

The officer nodded and glanced down at Arnold, "Well since Mr. Shortman refuses to name his friends in this little prank, we're waiting to see if Mr. Walters wants to press charges against him."

"Which I am sorely tempted to do," Mr. Walters stepped out of the room and slowly approached them.

Arnold swallowed thickly and started to slump down in his seat which only seemed to make Mr. Walters angrier. He snapped his cane against the legs of his chair making Arnold jump and sit up straight.

"So, you're one of the hooligans who eggs my house and broke my window." Mr. Walters looked down at him, "You don't look like a thug but looks can be deceiving."

Arnold hung his head in shame, "Sir, I am so, so sorry. I promise I'll pay for the window and clean all the egg off your house. I'll even clean your house for you if you want."

"Boy, lift your head up when you talk to an adult."

Arnold did what he said and found Mr. Walters staring down at him with a thoughtful look on his face. He couldn't read his expression and wondered vaguely if he was going to whack him with the cane.

"Hmm, stand up boy," Mr. Walters ordered instead and when he did, he began to circle him, tapping his finger against his can thoughtfully. "How tall are you and how much do you weigh, son?"

"Um, five-eleven, a hundred and ten pounds I think," Arnold fidgeted nervously, "Why are you asking?"

Mr. Walters didn't answer him, "You and your friends made quite a mess of my house. And I don't have the money to pay for no handymen."

"I can do whatever you need me to, sir," Arnold said eagerly. At least he could make up for destroying a man's house.

"Excellent," Mr. Walters nodded but didn't smile, "you can report to my studio tomorrow at five o'clock sharp and I'll be happy to drop all charges. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some interrupted sleep to continue."

He then gestured for them to step out of his way and he strode out of the station. Arnold sighed in relief. All he had to do was help clean up around some studio after school and he would be off the hook for this stupid prank. This was the time he would do something so stupid.