An ugly, dark purple bruise marred the edge of his upper lip, but at least the swelling had gone down. Arnold tilted his head to further examine his reflection and delicately poked at his wounded lip.

"I can't believe grandma's avocado, tuna, and rice milk poultice worked," He mused, "it doesn't even hurt anymore."

Arnold leaned a little away from the mirror to scrutinize the rest of his reflection. The fall hadn't done too much damage other than busting his lip so that was good. He didn't need everyone at school asking him a bunch of questions about his face. Because he definitely didn't want anyone knowing that he got busted up falling flat on his face. Hopefully, Gerald and the other guys wouldn't make too much of a big deal about it either.

"Hey Shortman, you almost done in there?" Grandpa Phil knocked on the bathroom door. "The hot water heater's out again and I could use your help in fixing it before you leave."

Arnold sighed inwardly and glanced at his watch. It was nearly seven-fifteen, too early to rush off to school but if he got held up for too long he would be late. But his grandfather was getting older and it couldn't be easy running the boarding house by himself.

"Shortman?"

"Coming, Grandpa!"

Arnold promptly left the bathroom and headed downstairs to the boiler room all the way in the basement. As he hurried through the boarding house the tenants either greeting him with either a friendly good morning or a complaint. A lick of irritation touched him but he quickly tampered it down. Regardless of the type of greeting he got, he answered all of them with a half-hearted wave and a smile. He reached the boiler room out of breath and grabbed the tool belt from the shelf. The water heater was sat in the corner, one of its pipes rattling loudly and dripping water. Fifteen minutes and half a heat blister later, it was as fixed as it was going to be. Arnold wiped the sweat off his forehead and checked his watch. Yep, now he had to sprint if he wanted to make it to school on time.

"Yo Arnie!"

Arnold suppressed a groan and looked up to see Mr. Potts peering at him from up the stairs wearing nothing but a towel.

"You almost done with that water heater?" he asked impatiently, "I gotta head to work soon!"

Yeah, and I have to head to school. Fifteen minutes ago, Arnold wanted to retort but he swallowed the words and smiled instead, "I just finished Mr. Potts. It should be working now."

"Well that's a relief, you would think that the old man would have coughed up the dough for a new one by now," Mr. Potts grumbled walking back up the steps.

Arnold waited until he heard the door close again before letting his smile drop into a frown. He loved the boarders and all, but sometimes he couldn't take their complaining or their nagging. His grandfather sure wasn't shy about complaining about their complaining, but it's not like that solves anything. Arnold only shook his head and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Gerald's number.

"Hey Gerald, do you mind picking me up?" Arnold paused as he waited for Gerald's usual smart remark, "because my grandfather can't run this boarding house by himself. Now can you pick me up please?"

Arnold met Gerald out on his porch as he pulled up in his car. He didn't seem to be worried about the two of them being late even through Arnold was starting to get impatient.

"You trying to make us both late, man?" Gerald laughed as Arnold slid into the passenger seat, "This is like the third time this happened."

"My grandfather needs help and it's not like the boarders pull any weight," Arnold responded but then quickly added, "I mean, they're probably busy."

Gerald gave him an odd look but only focused on the road and drove them to school. Gerald expertly maneuvered through the parking lot looking for an open spot. The best spots had already been taken by the seniors of course but they weren't exactly ordinary juniors either.

"Hey there's a spot," Arnold pointed out one near the library, "maybe we could- oh wait, never mind. It looks like someone else is about to take it. We can find another one."

Gerald only smiled and pressed on the gas a little more though, "no need my friend. No need."

Their car reeved forward a bit and at the sound of Gerald's engine the driver of the other car slammed on brakes and immediately backed out of the spot. Gerald shot him a smile and a wave which the other kid returned.

Arnold whistled in surprise, "Wow, that was really nice of that kid. You guys know each other?"

"Um... something like that."

They made it to their lockers and homeroom just barely in time for the bell. Sitting beside him, Gerald seemed to finally take notice of his lip. He roughly grabbed his chin and turned his face to look at it.

"Man, that's some bruise you got," Gerald peered at his lip with a mixture of admiration and disgust, "I'm surprised you didn't lose a tooth with that face plant of yours."

"Har-de har har," Arnold rolled his eyes and knocked his hand away.

"No seriously, it looks cool. We should tell everyone that you beat up a mugger."

"Or the truth." Arnold mumbled, slouching in his seat a little, "I let my friends talk me into something very stupid."

Gerald laughed, "it was funny and you know it. Stop being such a downer man."

Arnold pressed his lips together and immediately hissed in pain. During the next couple of classes, he had a hard time concentrating. Not that was anything new. It wasn't that he was a brainiac and breezed through the material. The teachers he had just tended to be a little boring. It didn't help that kids kept staring at his mouth. The braver ones even passed him a note asking him what happened. There were even rumors that some of the girls were trying to circulate a card for everyone to sign. Some sort of weird sympathy, get well soon, hybrid. All this Arnold tried to take in stride. He told everyone that he just tripped and fell, sympathetic inquiries he politely waved off. It was no small relief when the bell for lunch finally rang. As routine he met Gerald at their lockers.

"You tripped and fell? Seriously?" Gerald whined before Arnold could get two words out, "Talk about a waste of an injury. I told you to make up a cool story!"

Arnold shook his head but couldn't help but smile. He hadn't seen him in over two hours but of course the power of the high school rumor mill had reached him.

"You're lucky I don't tell everyone the truth," Arnold teased him playfully.

"Pfft, go ahead, Sid's been bragging all day," Gerald scoffed, "he even tried to hit up some cheerleaders. Like that type of foolishness would impress them."

"Foolishness? Aren't you the one who-"

"Foolishness to them," Gerald clarified quickly, "trust me, I know how ladies think."

Arnold rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "Is that why you're on girlfriend number three this year?"

Gerald turned to him with genuine confusion on his face, "Sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say?"

For a moment, Arnold was tempted to repeat himself but the moment passed and he only smiled, "Nothing important. Come on, let's meet the others."

After they exited the lunch line, they made their way to their table. Arnold prepared himself for the guys' prison jokes and embellishments on what happened last night. What he got was something totally different.

"Did you rat on us?" Harold accused him before he had so much as set down his tray.

"What?" Arnold blinked in shock.

"He probably cracked like a rotten egg," Sid scowled, "Look at his lip. The cop probably took one swing at him and he sang like a canary."

"He didn't snitch on us guys," Gerald was swift to defend him, "Right, Arnold? Tell them."

At first Arnold was too stunned to answer. Harold, Sid, and even Stinky were giving him suspicious looks. Wasn't he the one who warned them that this was a bad idea? More importantly, weren't they the ones who goaded him into going? Arnold's heart began pounding in his throat and his hand curled into a fist under the table. But he forced himself to take a breath and relax his fist again.

"No, of course not," He answered tightly, swallowing his annoyance. "As a matter of fact, I'm going to be working for Mr. Walters after school in exchange for getting the charges dropped."

The guys' suspicious glares instantly relaxed into looks of relief. Stinky even shook his head and gave him a pitying look.

"That really bites Arnold, but we're awfully grateful that you're taking the fall for us all," he drawled.

But Gerald snickered, "He wouldn't have to though if he knew how to climb a fence."

The four of them joined in laughing and Arnold laughed too just to play along. Thankfully the conversation finally moved away to another topic. This allowed him to paste a smile on his face and nod every now and then while letting his mind wander. Some of the girls joined them filling their table with laughter and conversation. Slowly, Arnold felt himself relaxing and became more active in participating.

"So Arnold, what happened to your lip?" Nadine gave him a curious look, "Everyone is talking about it. Did you get mugged?"

"Ha ha no, I-"

"Had a run in with the cops," Gerald interrupted with a sly wink, "Sid, set the scene for me man."

Sid cleared his throat and waited until he had everyone's attention before beginning. Arnold only half listened as Sid painted Mr. Walters as an evil sadist and himself as an innocent victim. Gerald took over, embellishing the tale even more to make themselves sound like rebellious anti-heroes seeking justice instead of just juvenile vengeance. And when Gerald mentioned Arnold's part (making his fall sound like a supreme sacrifice instead of a tremendous blunder), all eyes turned on him.

"Arnold, you were there?" Nadine stared at him slack jawed, "Arnold Shortman, participating in an egging? You sure you didn't just go there to stop them and make peace?"

He rolled his eyes, "No, but I probably should have."

"I don't know, Arnold the bad boy sounds kind of sexy," Rhonda purred.

The table started laughing and Arnold forced himself to laugh along with them again. Sometimes he honestly couldn't tell if Rhonda was genuinely flirting with him or just making fun of him. The lunch bell rang and everyone in the cafeteria exited into the hallway, quickly making it crowded. Arnold listened to Sid and Gerald talk about their upcoming track meet and realized that any after school activities he would have would have to wait for a while. He didn't even know how long he would have to work for Mr. Walters. Would he be working until he paid off the cost of the window? He almost hoped so, or this arrangement could have no end.

Five-fifteen saw Arnold running down the street, panting and his ankles throbbing. It was too much of a déjà vu moment for him. He shouldn't have stayed with the guys at the arcade for so long. Because now he was late and he doubted Mr. Walters would be too happy with him. A squat, two-story building stood on the corner. It looked almost run down and for a moment Arnold wondered if he had the right place. But it matched the address that he had Googled last night. He ran across the street, nearly getting hit by a car in the process, and paused at the front entrance to catch his breath. When his heart no longer drummed in his ears, he could hear faint snatches of a piano. Above him a window was partly open and figures danced pass.

Inside the lobby was empty but a sign pointed out the locker room down the hall, storage room, and the rehearsal hall upstairs. Not one-hundred percent where he should go, Arnold decided to head upstairs to the rehearsal hall. The faint sounds of the piano grew stronger the higher he went and he could start to hear violin music as well. The landing at the top had a another sign indicating an office down the hall and at first Arnold figured he should go there, but he was a little more curious about the double doors marked "rehearsal hall". What the heck? He was already late and his best bet was the Mr. Walters was already waiting for him inside. Decision made, Arnold opened the door just enough to slip inside.

The rehearsal hall took up most of the second floor. The floor was smooth, polished hard wood, panels of mirrors lined the wall on one side, and another wall had a line of curtained windows. A stereo system played classical dance music in the corner. And there were dancers. They wore pastel leotards with white tights and ballet shoes. Most were girls but there were a couple of guys too. A few of them threw Arnold a curious glance when he entered but they were mostly focused on the dancers in the middle of the floor. Three girls and a guy were dancing with slow, elegant movements in complete synch with one another. They moved well, no wonder why most of the class was watching them. The classical music came to a crescendo, prompting the guy to lift one of the girls into the air, paused as the music peaked, and then lowered her slowly again as the music faded to an end. The rest of the class clapped politely and Arnold clapped as well. When her partner released her, one of the ballerina's shot him a smile. She was petite with short dark hair pulled back in a headband. Arnold returned her smile with polite detachment. He could practically hear Gerald goading him to go over to her, but he knew Mr. Walters would probably be more than a little annoyed if he distracted on of his dancers. The girl must have interpreted his smile as a summons though but her own smile grew and she began to walk over.

"Alright you yahoos, clear out!"

The double doors were roughly pushed open and a new group of dancers came through. The speaker, a tall blonde girl at the forefront of the group, glared around the room and continued yelling.

"You twits deaf? You've hogged the hall long enough haven't you?" She barked.

The ballerinas and some of the new dancers, shot her annoyed looks but no one argued with her. The petite dancer flinched and moved as far away as possible from her. As the ballerinas filed out of the room, Arnold hesitated and pressed himself further back against the wall, wanting to see if these new group of dancers were as good as the last ones. They looked more casual. Instead of leotards they wore a variety of yoga pants, shorts, tanks, and t-shirts. Someone changed the music on the stereo from classical music to a pop radio station and they began stretching and chatting.

"You here to dance or are you just here to stare like a creep?"

Arnold's head shot up in surprise, mildly offended at the accusation. The blonde girl was now standing in front of him. She looked him up and down with sharp blue eyes and her lips were curled in a snarl. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but Arnold couldn't put his finger on it. And had he ever seen eyes that blue before?

"I'm not being a creep," Arnold finally answered her, "Look, I'm supposed to be helping Mr. Walters-"

"At five o'clock sharp, if I remember correctly."

The double doors banged shut again and Mr. Walters himself walked in. Frowning, he walked up to them but turned to the blonde girl. He glared at her, tapping his cane against the floor.

"Helga," He said, "Is there a reason why you're standing here talking and not warming up."

The blonde, Helga, rose her eyebrow and didn't appear phased in the least. "Is there a reason pretty boy is here watching us dance? I thought tryouts were at the end of the month."

Mr. Walters thrust his cane down making a resounding cracking sound on the hard wood floor. The dancers and Arnold flinched but Helga merely rolled her eyes and moved away.

"And you, young man," Mr. Walters turned to Arnold next making him take a step back, "what time does that clock say? There, on the wall. What does it say?"

Arnold lowered his head sheepishly, "I'm really sorry sir, I-"

"What. Time. Is it?"

Repressing his frustration the best he could, Arnold looked up at the clock and noted the time, "Five thirty-eight, sir."

"Five thirty-eight," Mr. Walters echoed, "And what time did you agree to be here?"

"Five o'clock."

"Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, sir," Arnold kept his face neutral even as he felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. He knew he was at fault for being late and for being caught up with the dancers, but did Mr. Walters have to be so condescending?

"Good," Mr. Walters's face relaxed but he still didn't smile, "Now, while my class warms up, let's go over your responsibilities. You will arrive here promptly, five o'clock sharp. You are responsible for running errands, needed repairs, and cleaning the studio. You will not disturb my dancers nor distract them. And in the event that I have to leave early, you are responsible for locking up. Do you understand?"

Arnold grimaced. Every responsibility was another hour of his life going down the drain. But what choice did he have? He vandalized the man's house.

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. You can start by cleaning up those DVDs by that stereo over there while I instruct my class on HOW TO WARM UP PROPERLY." Mr. Walters's voice boomed out as he turned to address the dance students.

Arnold took the opportunity to retreat into the corner and do as he was told. The "DVDs" were a collection of CDs in all varieties of music. Classical, big band, hip hop, and Latin just to name a few. They were all scattered around though, some of the out of their cases. He would have to start with putting them in their cases first before he could organize them. There wasn't a shelf to put them on though. Maybe he should build one as a sign of good faith. Arnold laughed a little under his breath at that. As if he didn't have enough work to do at the boarding house.

"Sharper! Sharper! Are your limbs made of wood!?"

The sharp crack of the cane against the floor made Arnold look up. The dancers were now evenly spaced apart, dancing in tandem, facing the mirrored wall. Mr. Walters was walking back and forth, facing them, appraising every one of their movements with sharp eyes. The dancers' movements were by far something completely different from what Arnold witnessed the ballet dancers perform. They swung their legs and entire bodies in sweeping arches before dropping into a crouch. Then jumping up, arms high before spinning midair and landing. Every moment was quick and graceful, it was clear everyone had been dancing for years. But Mr. Walters wasn't satisfied. He weaved among them, tapping his cane against the ground and critiquing everyone. One girl's back wasn't straight enough. Another guy was jumping too high. Someone else was out of rhythm. Arnold himself didn't see it, but Mr. Walters looked ready to hit him with his cane.

There was only one person Mr. Walters didn't criticize and that was Helga. He watched her just as much, maybe even more, but he never had anything negative to say about it. And Arnold couldn't see how he could. Her movements were powerful, yet her long, toned legs her graceful. Her ponytail whipped across her face with her spins, indicating her speed, but her face remained tranquil. It was like she wasn't even aware of anyone else in the room.

"Young man, you are not here to audit my class," Mr. Walters shouted over at him, "I suggest you turn your eyes back on your work unless you plan on joining them."

Warmth flooded his cheeks and Arnold turned back to the CDs again, "Sorry, Mr. Walters."

By seven o'clock, Arnold had just about finished with the CDs (all one hundred and twenty of them), and Mr. Walters was wrapping up class. He gave the class notes on improving, mostly berating them, and pressed them to continue focusing on certain moves that they hadn't gotten the hang of yet. Arnold barely listened, itching to go home so he could get started on all the homework waiting for him and get a bite to eat. The dancers began to disperse, barely sparing Arnold a glance as they headed out. No one else seemed inclined to do it, so Arnold reached out to turn the stereo off.

"Leave it on," Mr. Walters waved Arnold away from it though, "Miss Pataki wants to stay late again and you need to sweep up the hall."

Arnold looked over at Helga who was sitting on the floor stretching. A surge of irritation went through him directed at both her and Mr. Walters but Arnold breathed it out.

"I, um, what time do you think I'll be able to go home?" He asked trying to sound casual, "I do have homework to get to."

"And I have a broken window to repair," Mr. Walter replied pointedly, tossing Arnold a set of keys. "The keys are marked and you'll find the broom in the storage room downstairs. See you tomorrow."

And with that, Mr. Walters strode out of the room, leaving Arnold alone with Helga. Arnold took a deep breath and counted backwards from fifty, an old technique he often relied on. When he opened his eyes, Helga was still on the ground stretching. While her legs pointed one direction, her torso was twisted towards the window which she was staring out of, completely ignoring him.

"Um... hey," He called out awkwardly, "I, uh, have to go get something. Will you be okay by yourself-"

"I don't care."

Her response was blunt and curt. She didn't even look at him. She twisted, stretching the opposite direction. Arnold watched her for a minute longer before leaving in search of the storage room.

Without the other students, or even Mr. Walters, the building felt hollow and a bit creepy. Arnold almost superstitiously turned on every light switch that he walked past. Alone with this abrasive girl for who knows how long.

"Maybe she's not that bad," he mused out loud, "I'm practically a stranger who she just met. I'm sure she's not that bad."

The rude way she entered the rehearsal hall said otherwise but Arnold wrote that off too. There were times that he wanted to order a certain boarder or two out of the communal bathroom when they went over their time limit. He was just lucky that he had his own private bathroom. That didn't stop the other boarders from coming to him with complaints though.

Once he retrieved a large sweeper and a dust pan from the storage room, Arnold headed back upstairs, making sure not to turn any of the lights off again. In the rehearsal hall, Helga was still warming up. This time, she was doing continuous pirouettes, spinning on one foot over and over again. Her gaze was steadfast on her reflection in front of her, not giving any indication that she noticed him coming in.

"I'm back," Arnold called anyway.

She ignored him, just like he expected, though her eyes flickered in his direction. Arnold rolled his eyes and started sweeping. He couldn't help looking up to watch her though. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what dance Helga was practicing though. Sometimes she practiced the moves Mr. Walters instructed them in; other times it looked like she was practicing ballet. In any case, Helga's movements were swift and powerful. Arnold had never seen anything like it before.

"You're really good," he complimented her out loud.

"Hmm," she hummed non committedly and slowed to a stop, watching her reflection. She seemed satisfied at what she saw because she nodded and walked over to the stereo.

Arnold silently sighed in relief, "So you need a ride home? It's gotten pretty dark outside."

Helga rose an eyebrow and smirked at him, "Who said I was done?"

When she reached the stereo, kneeled down and began riffling through the CDs Arnold carefully organized. But once she found what she was looking for, she pulled it out, causing the rest in the stack to fall over. Then Helga scoffed, gave him a look to make sure he was watching, swung her foot out, and knocked the rest of them over.

"H-hey!" Arnold yelped in both shock and anger, "I just spent two hours cleaning all those up!"

"Well you did it wrong," Helga rolled her eyes, "you arranged them by year and artist. You need to arrange them by genre and artist, doi. So the different classes can find their music easier."

"And you couldn't have just told me that?!" Arnold cried in exasperation.

"Think of it this way," She smirked, "Now you have something to do until I finish."

After she changed out the music to her chosen CD, a Latin pop one by the sound of it, and moved back to her place to begin dancing. This time her moves had a different edge to them, more intense, fluid, and almost sensual. Arnold dropped the sweeper on the ground, hoping that the loud sound would both startle her and convey his annoyance. Her only reaction was to meet his eyes in the mirror and her smirk turned into a Cheshire grin. Now it was Arnold's turn to roll his eyes and he turned to the stereo to re-rearrange the CDs. He began to feel bad through, especially as he kept watching her, and tried being friendly again.

"So um, have we met before?" He asked, "You look sort of familiar."

Helga stopped so suddenly, he could swear he heard her feet squeak on the hard wood floor. She stood still, her reflection staring at him until he began to fidget uncomfortably.

"I don't know," she said, tersely, "who do you think I am?"

"Um..." Arnold looked at her carefully. Tall, slim, piercing blue eyes, golden blonde hair. Being around cheerleaders, he honestly met many blonde haired, blue eyed beauties but he couldn't recall anyone like her. Especially with her temper and, for lack of better words, rudeness.

"Do we go to school together?" He ventured.

Helga barked out a laugh and for a moment looked angry and offended. But then she tempered her expression into a look of mild annoyance, "Yeah we go the same school. You could even say we... ran into each other before."

"Huh, did we?" Arnold struggled to think, but he couldn't remember seeing her in the cafeteria or any of his classes. "Are you in my... Algebra class?"

"No," Helga replied shortly, turning back to mirror again, "we're not."

Arnold's brow furrowed at her uncooperativeness. He really, really hoped that she wasn't one of the girls he had turned down, but at the same time he knew she was nothing like those girls. Maybe someone Gerald turned down? No way, even someone as smooth as Gerald would have a hard time getting though her tough veneer .

"My name's Arnold," He tried again, hoping to keep up conversation.

Helga glanced at him in the mirror, "You know my name already."

Arnold was confused for a moment until he remembered, "Oh right, Mr. Walters mentioned it. He's um, pretty intense. I think you're the only one not afraid of him. But then again, you're both pretty intense."

"So has anyone told you that you have a football shaped head?"

Arnold dropped the CDs he was holding, sending them clattering onto a pile. He stared at Helga incredulously, shocked at her bluntness.

"Anyone tell you that you're really rude?" He shot off in shock before he could hold himself back.

But Helga giggled, dipping herself so low that she nearly bent backwards, "I've been called worse, football head."

Arnold choked, stammered, and fell silent. He couldn't decide what he felt more of; annoyed, angry, or happy that she laughed.