A/N: Just to let you know, I have the second (and last) chapter to this already typed, but I don't have time to post it now because it's on my computer upstairs, which doesn't have internet access(grrrrr….) so you can read with the assurance that I won't keep you waiting for long. Let me know what you think of this, and if you'd like, read some of my other stuff. I'd like to know what people think…

Not So Alone

By Angela St. Mathew

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And in our lives

There's an orchestra of things

Both major and minor keys

But love will always sing...

                               --LaRue

Helga Pataki stared up at her mirror with a blank expression.

Am I really that ugly? She couldn't help but think.

She'd been staring at the mirror for the last half hour just taking in her appearance. Her one eyebrow glowered back at her, and she'd reached for a pair of tweezers, but couldn't decide whether to actually fix it or not. Creating two eyebrows instead of one would make her look alot like Olga, but then, keeping the unibrow made her look like her dad.

She then moved to the odd place of her ears. Of course, there was nothing she could do about that, or her nose, which she curled up just looking at it. And her eyes were dark blue, distasteful, almost like hollow little holes that revealed her empty soul.

Yes, it wasn't just her outward appearance that made her ugly. For some reason, on that particular night, she felt so utterly lost inside. Not even writing about her beloved, Taco-headed dreamboat in her many pink journals could ease the aching pain in her stomach. She was fifteen, after all. Maybe it was time to move on?

Yeah right, she scowled at the blond girl in the mirror. If only it were that easy.

Helga decided to go see if Mariam had made anything for dinner, not wanting to look at her reflection or think about how ugly it was anymore.

As she walked out of her room, she faced the wall of the hallway that she was forced to face every time she entered or exited her room. It was lined with pictures of her family. Her parents wedding day, with her mom and dad at the altar smiling lovingly at each other. It was a smile Helga had never had the chance to see.

Olga seemed to see it all the time whenever she was home, either because she was completely naive or Helga's presence made their smiles disappear, because it never seemed to happen when she was around.

More pictures or her parents, her parents and Olga, Olga and Big Bob at a piano recital. Helga guessed that Mariam had been taking the picture. There was a picture of their whole family, which was the only one that eased Helga's spirit slightly, because the photographer had been lighthearted and funny, a practical joker. It was easy for him to make Mariam and Olga laugh, and eventually Helga, too. With Bob, it had taken a little longer, with him muttering about an important meeting he had to get to. But the picture had captured something Helga only imagined. A normal, happy family. She called this picture the Family Facade.

Helga was in one other picture on that wall. It was with her and Olga at the beach when they were younger. Olga was smiling sweetly at the camera, and Helga was off to the side crying because she had sand in her eyes.

Helga remembered that day. Her dad had told her to suck it up and stop being such a baby, even though she was only four. Her eyes had been red and sore for days after that, but no one had seemed to notice, or care.

Well, almost no one.

The sides of Helga's mouth curved in the weakest of smiles at that memory.

Four year old Helga Pataki squinted in the bright sunlight, making sure she could see so she wouldn't get hit by the ball. All the kindergarteners were playing on the playground, and she was playing catch with a couple other kids with a big, dark green bounce ball.

There was still a fog in her eyes which still had traces of red and puffiness to them, but no one had noticed. Or so she thought.

Suddenly there was something large and green right in front of her, but she only saw it for a split second before there was a sharp pain in her face and she flew backwards into the cement, hitting the back of her head in the process.

A couple of the kids gasped, but most of them laughed, and one in particular was calling her names relating to being dumb or blind.

The pain in her face and the back of her head was unbearable, as it would be to someone her age, not to mention her eyes hurting from trying to focus all day. She could feel tears starting to surface, but she forced them back defiantly.

"Are you ok, Helga?"

That voice.

That sweet, angelic voice was suddenly beside her, full of overwhelming concern even for a five year old.

"Just leave me alone". She muttered, preparing to stand, but she felt his hands on her arm, helping her up. Then she heard him address the other.

"Stop it, you guys. She hit her head, leave her alone".

Helga could feel more tears, but blinked them away. She saw through blurry vision that most of the kids were now going back to whatever they'd been doing. But Arnold still stood there.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" He asked innocently.

"Nothing".

"Did you get soap in them?"

Helga sniffled. She knew she wouldn't be able to hide the tears much longer.

Arnold could see this clearly. He may have been a little dense, but some things were just plain obvious. He motioned for her to follow him and took her behind the dumpster, where no one else could see them.

"What are you doing, football head?" She scowled, but it didn't show in her voice as much as she wanted it to.

"You can cry here, no one's watching".

Helga stared at him, to the best of her ability, anyway, as if he'd just looked at one of her personal picture books. This was before she could write in her pink journals.

"It's ok, Helga. I won't laugh".

But there was already a tear sliding down her cheek. She wiped it away.

Arnold sat down and pulled on her hand to get her to sit down next to him in their little hideaway.

"My grandma says," He started almost conversationally, "that when I get soap in my eyes, it's ok to cry, because that makes all the soap go away".

Another tear escaped and made a streak along the side of her face.

"Sand". She said.

"What?"

"I have sand in my eyes...we went to the beach on Saturday..."

Now she'd done it. Now she was crying outright, but quietly. She reached a hand up to her face, and found that there was a small bruise where the ball had hit her. But that didn't hurt nearly as much as the back of her head.

She reached back to touch there, but was stopped when Arnold took hold of her wrist gently and pulled it back.

"Don't touch it," he said, "it'll hurt more".

"But it already hurts". She whimpered, blinking fiercely now from the mixture of tears and tiny grains of sand.

"Want to go to the nurse?"

She shook her head. Play time wasn't over yet, there was no way she could face anyone like this. She wasn't even sure how she'd been able to face Arnold while crying like this.

"Want me to make it all better?"

She looked at him strangely, but nodded. Arnold scooted closer to her and turned her head slightly, leaning up and kissing the back of her head where he'd seen her hit it on the concrete. Then he turned her head back toward him, not noticing the completely dumbfounded expression on the five-year-olds face, and kissed her bruised forehead.

Then he grinned at her with that adorable, toothy smile of his.

"All better". He announced triumphantly.

Helga blinked a few more times, her vision becoming clearer with each new tear. Arnold had been right, crying did make the sand go away.

But when she didn't smile at him, a worried expression crossed his face.

"Didn't it help?" He was sure it would have. Grandma's kisses always made him feel better. When she nodded slightly, another smile split his face.

Helga wiped the tears away from her cheeks, afraid that if she didn't get rid of the evidence now, the bell would ring and she'd be forced to face everyone the way she was.

"Want to go play now?"

Helga continued on down the stairs of her house, the memory slipping from her mind once again as she stepped into the downstairs hallway and walked toward the kitchen. Mariam was, of course, asleep on the kitchen table again. A quick once over of the kitchen told Helga that he mother had at one time been getting ready to prepare dinner, but her smoothies had once again decided to catch up with her.

"Mom?" Helga spoke quietly, but her mother only moaned in a way that said she didn't want to be disturbed, turned her head the other way, and was gone again.

Helga sighed and walked into the living room where she found Big Bob snuggled comfortably in his recliner, flipping through the TV channels, trying to find the latest commercial he'd paid for.

"Uh, Dad-"
"What?!"

Helga's heart jumped slightly at her father's angered grunt. She hadn't really expected him to respond to the first attempt. A couple seconds later, when she hadn't said anything yet, she was caught by surprise again.

"Well, whadda ya want, girl!!?" He yelled, his voice booming throughout the room, his patience having obviously been drained hours ago.

"N-nothing". Helga stammered, backing out of the doorway. In truth, she wasn't sure what she'd wanted him for. Maybe she'd grown so used to the goal being to simply get his attention that she was no longer sure why she'd ever wanted his attention in the first place.

"Fine, beat it". He grumbled, setting his attention back to the TV, even though he hadn't really taken it off the tube while barking at his daughter.

Helga turned the knob of the front door and walked outside, seemingly oblivious to the lightly falling rain. It was September, so it was a little cold, but she didn't bother grabbing a jacket off of the rack. The only one she had that wasn't a hand-me-down from Olga was up in her room, and she didn't feel like climbing all the way up the stairs to get it.

She walked down the sidewalk with no real destination.

Her parents weren't always like this, of course. She knew they loved her, maybe not as much as Olga, but they still loved her. It just seemed that, very often, they didn't really like her very much.

As Helga dwelled on thoughts of her family, her feet eventually carried her to the park, and walking like she was on autopilot, she made her way toward the swings and planted herself there. It didn't matter that the seat was wet, so was she, and her legs were tired, so she didn't care where she sat.

The sun was setting, even though the rain clouds already made the sky dark. The rain itself was growing thicker, almost to the point of pouring in sheets, but not quite. Helga didn't care, it actually felt good.

Could stand to be a little warmer, she thought absently.

As she let her mind drift aimlessly, a song popped into her head. It was one she'd heard playing at a grocery store while picking up some things for Mariam.

...And it's ok to cry

And it's ok to wonder why

And as you're tears fall down

They heal the ground

A place that once was dry

And it's ok to cry...

That was all of the song that she could remember, because it was all she'd been able to hear clearly other than bits and pieces through the other noises that surrounded her in the grocery store. There were two people singing in the song, a guy and a girl, but it wasn't some sappy love song, at least, not the kind of love song she usually heard on the radio. This was different. She wasn't sure why.

What did they mean, it's ok to cry?

Helga shook her head, feeling the large drops on her face and hair that had been threatening to fall finally release their grip and sail to the wet grass beneath her. She was completely soaked, but it felt good.

Helga loved the feeling of rain on her skin. She wished she were wearing her bathing suite, so that she could feel it better, but then the cold told her that wearing a bathing suite probably wouldn't have been wise at the moment.

Helga sat for a long time, simply letting her mind drift and losing herself in the feeling of the rain pouring over her, soaking through her hair, which was now pulled back in a ponytail instead of ridiculous pigtails on the sides of her head.

She closed her eyes every now and then and envisioned herself somewhere else, somewhere far away. She was at a beach off the coast of some tropical island, the pure rain falling around her and vast oceans in front of her were a clear blue crystal, not like the salty waters of the beach near Hillwood.

Then she was in a jungle, or perhaps a rainforest, surrounded by huge, magnificent trees of soft, radiant browns and greens, with giant leaves that canopied where she sat on a patch of soft moss. There were flowers twice the size of daises that glowed with rainbow colored tips, radiating a beauty she could not describe.

She was lost in this heavenly place, and she wanted to stay there, but a small rumbled of thunder eased her mind back to reality, and she looked at her watch.

Crimeny! She thought, realizing that she'd been sitting there for two hours.

With a regretful sigh, she stood from her comfortable swing and stretched slightly, as if she'd been sleeping there. She silently considered wringing out the bottom of her shirt because of the way it was hanging on her, completely soaked. But she decided against it, knowing it would just get wet again anyway as she turned and headed down the path that lead toward the road.

She had no idea that there was someone not far behind her.

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