UPDATE: it was brought to my attention that song fics are no longer allowed to post lyrics- something I was completely unaware of.
All lyrics were immediately removed, and I sincerely apologize.
The story shall still remain! Look up the lyrics yourselves, fine friends!
Welcome to my hot mix tape!
This first song is a song that I simply adore for many reasons, though I won't waste your precious time explaining them to you. HOWEVER, as this fic-series goes on, I do implore you to listen to each song as they are picked for a very good reason.
If you desire to listen to the playlist for this story as add new songs I'll write about, you are certainly welcome to. I have a playlist entitled, "Polkahotness' Hot Mix Tape" on Spotify where I will putting each of these songs in order of ficlets as I find them :)
I already have others in the works, so make sure you follow this story to know when they are posted!
Please review!
xoxo
Polkahotness
"The Impossible Year"- Panic! at the Disco
~Arnold~
I sat at my desk; the blank computer screen staring at me. Reaching out to grab hold of the mouse, I shook the computer awake and opened up a web browser. Typing away in the search bar, I wrote the words, "The Impossible Year lyrics" and clicked the search button.
"Go ahead and pick partners, I'll explain more later," Mrs. Fincher said before turning around to write something on the board with her squeaky red white board marker.
"Well, Hair Boy?" Helga's voice made me turn around to look at her where she sat behind me. "Wanna be partners?"
I raised my brow in surprise. "Really, Helga? You want to be partners with me?"
She shrugged carelessly and leaned back in her desk to cross her arms over her chest and I imagine extend her legs to cross over each other from below. "Well sure. I mean, I figure you'll need some creative genius to help you if you'll EVER pass THIS class. And who better than Helga G. Pataki herself."
I rolled my eyes and smirked. "I'll pass this class without your help just fine," I said, though she was right and I didn't want to admit it.
Creative Writing was the only class I was struggling in. And granted, a B- isn't exactly struggling, but it certainly wasn't Helga's obvious A with extra credit making her sit righteously above me in the class hierarchy.
"Fine. Suit yourself." She said before turning her head to look over at the desk clump next to us. "Yo, Ernest! You wanna be-"
"Helga, wait," I cut her off and she turned to look back at me with a smile hinting on her lips. "I'll be your partner. I mean... if you still want me to be at least." I nodded my head in the direction of the acne-ridden boy now looking in Helga's direction. "Over Ernest."
She chuckled and nodded her head. "Yeah alright, footballhead. Partners."
I clicked on the first of the search results and waited for the page to load the lyrics on my screen.
"We'll be doing what I like to call, the Partner Playlist Project. So right now, everyone pull out a piece of paper and write down the name of a song- any song -that inspires you to want to write about it, then fold it up. You'll be writing stories based on these lyrics, so pick one you feel you can excel at telling a story with." Mrs. Fincher announced and I looked down at the blank sheet staring at me.
What would I pick? Most of the music I listened to were instrumentals of Jazz Music and while plenty of those told stories, they didn't tell stories with words which was the assignment. I frowned at the paper as it looked back at me while I racked my brain.
"What'd you pick?" Helga asked, her paper already neatly folded so I couldn't see her words written on it.
"Well, uh, nothing. Yet." I said while reaching up to rub at my tired right eye.
"Just pick something you like. What about one of those Dino Spumoni songs you rave on about all the time? He has some good lyrics, right?"
Her suggestion had the gears in my brain turning, and I was suddenly very thankful Helga had asked to be my partner.
I scribbled down the words, "Smashed by Dino Spumoni" and folded my paper as Mrs. Fincher had told us to do and waited for our next instructions.
I glanced through the lyrics and sighed heavily.
It looked like a depressing song. It was the sort of song I hadn't really expected from Helga, but hadn't really surprised me either. Helga had been pretty forlorn as of late, though I never tried to ask because she'd only shoot me down with nicknames and various sarcastic comments so it hadn't been really worth it to me.
Either way, I decided I should give the song a listening to before writing anything. I typed "Youtube" into the web browser and went searching for the audio to go with Helga's lyrics.
I couldn't believe it. We had to SWITCH SONGS?!
"Here ya go, bucko." Helga tossed her folded paper at me with a smirk. "Enjoy. Hope you can figure out a story for this one..." She sighed taking my folded paper and opening it up. "Kind of a shame cause I had a really good idea for it and everything."
Mrs. Fincher spoke up for the last time before the bell was to ring, "Remember, you are to write a paragraph for each verse or stanza. Make it work!" The bell rang and we all stood to collect our things so we could go about the rest of our day. "I can't wait to read what you come up with!" She called after us.
Once the song was through, I sat back and thought for a moment.
I really liked it. I hated to admit something Helga enjoyed, I did too, but I liked it. The song had a jazzy flair to it, almost like Frank Sinatra who was one of my favorite artists of all time. Who would have thought Helga was into that too?
The group behind the song, Panic! At the Disco was one I had heard about and a couple of songs on the radio now and again. This song alone made me want to search the internet for more and listen to whatever else they had put out- but I had a task at hand.
I had to inspect lyrics and write a story about them.
It was something I certainly wasn't excited about.
I'd never been good at understanding lyrics or poetry. I wasn't good at writing it either, for that matter. If I were being honest with myself, I'd only elected to pick this Creative Writing class for the credit and the fact that Gerald had taken it last semester. He said it'd been a breeze and an easy A.
An easy A. Right.
I'd have to remember to thank Gerald for that.
With a click of my mouse, I minimized the window to pull up a new document and title it, "Partner Playlist Project." Going back to the lyrics, I copied and pasted them to the blank page.
"Well," I said to myself with a sigh. "Here we go. Creative, just think like Helga would." I muttered to myself before inspecting the first set of lyrics staring back at me.
I tapped at the keyboard lightly as if to gather my thoughts. I could always just write this as myself... it's kind of cop-out but...I shook my head. I've had a good year. This doesn't apply to me. I mean, sure there was that really bad date with Marcie in October, but I'm passed that. She didn't break my heart or anything.
I frowned as I looked at the lyrics. No, no. I should write it as... as someone else? How does someone even come up with a character? Do I just... start writing?
My phone sat beside me and I itched at wanted to call Helga and ask for her idea. Ask for some help. But I couldn't call her; I couldn't admit that she was right and there was no way I'd pass this class without her writing expertise.
I could do this. I just had to start writing. Anything.
With an encouraging nod of my head, I began to type.
I walked along the pavement of the street. It was dark and the night was quiet. My thoughts-
I shook my head and deleted the words I'd just typed. Describe... adjectives... metaphors... With a sigh, I tried again.
It was nighttime in the city. I'd just left work and was tired for the night like a dog that had been up all day-
That's horrible, I can't use that. Instantly I hit the delete key and held it until the page was blank again except for the lyrics staring me down in bold font.
You can do this. What would Helga write? Surely she picked this song for a reason, so there's a story in here SOMEWHERE. If I were Helga... what would I write?
I thought back to the other day when I'd found Helga sitting on the stoop, soaked to the bone. It had just poured and she'd been stuck outside the whole time because her mom had locked her out. I'd asked if she'd wanted help, but as usual she told me to 'buzz off and mind your own business, football-head.' I found that I'd thought about that night a lot lately; attributing it to her sour disposition and sad expression she'd worn most days since.
If I were Helga, what would I write about? This WAS Helga's choice afterall... so if I wrote like I was her...
My fingers tapped away at the keys quickly; an idea sprouting in my brain.
I sat on my stoop and looked out to the world. It was dark, nighttime, and there was a breeze that gave me goosebumps. It had been stormy. Puddles of water lined the streets. I supposed it could be worse; plenty of other towns had storms like the one I'd just sat through. Tornadoes, typhoons, monsoons- plenty of other places had it worse, and in most cases those storms made for devastation and a pretty impossible year.
I nodded my head with a smile as I read through what I'd typed. It wasn't good- not by any means, and certainly not by Helga Pataki standards, but it was good by me. I decided the Helga tactic was working, so I moved onto the next verse.
I studied the words trying to make sense of them. A party? Gosh, I've only ever been to one party and that was when the disaster with Marcie happened. I remembered it clearly, the way she'd thrown punch in my face and stormed out- all because I'd been talking to Gerald a little 'too much.' It seemed like a silly thing to get so worked up over, but I figured it just wasn't meant to be so I'd gone to the bathroom to clean myself up.
Helga had been in there, and when she came outside, she'd eyed me with a smirk and said, 'Forget where your mouth was again, Hair Boy?'
At the time, it'd made me mad. After I cleaned myself up, I'd left the bathroom in search of her, but found she'd left. I had asked Phoebe where she'd gone to but she only said that Helga hated parties and went home.
Helga hated parties... But why?
A particular set of lyrics stuck out at me, the words sending an idea into my head. They just intrude and exclude.
I set my fingers back on the keyboard and continued on with my writing plight.
I'd had a really bad day, a bad weekend actually. Just the day before I'd been dragged to a party with my best friend. I didn't like parties. They were full of people who faked smiles and had artificial laughs. Most of high school was like that though. There were plenty of people mucking about with insincerity to one another. It made it all the more easy to skip out on the parties, cliques and other trivial things. I was probably missing a party right now while sitting on my stoop, but that was fine by me.
A chuckle escaped as I realized most of what I'd written was more how I felt about parties than Helga probably did. I didn't like how everyone always acted so fake to each other. The lyrics were right about that- they were just more excuses to exclude people- something I never believed in and didn't want to be a part of.
Maybe Helga felt the same way though. After all, she was the one to pick this song.
I'd arrived at the final verse; the bridge and ending the only thing standing in the way of completing the assignment. My eyes honed in on the next set of words.
This verse proved to be harder. I had no knowledge of heartbreak. The closest I'd ever had to that had been from before I'd found my parents, but I was much older now and had had them around for a while. This was a different kind of heartbreak- the kind I wasn't familiar with.
But apparently Helga was.
I thought back to our past together- the ins and outs of who we'd become as young-adults and how we'd gotten there. There was once a time when Helga said she loved me- a long time ago now, but it had happened and I hadn't forgotten. There was even that moment in the jungle we'd shared together; a moment that seemed to be taking us somewhere but ultimately fell short the moment we stepped back in Hillwood. It'd hurt my feelings quite a bit; I'd really thought we were getting somewhere. I thought maybe, as crazy of a thought as it was, that we could... be together. Or something.
I shook my head at the thought and tried to refocus my attention out on the computer screen waiting for me to continue with my story.
Why would she do that? Why would she start acting like nothing had ever happened? I thought she liked me... then. She doesn't NOW of course, but if she DID, if she liked ANYONE, what would she write about it? If it hadn't worked?
Helga wasn't one to date. In fact, I don't think I'd ever seen her with anyone in the likes of romantically. She'd stayed away from that scene, probably wisely as I'd seen through Gerald's passed romances that dating wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
Even I had stayed away from that scene, except for the Marcie incident. Nobody interested me like that so much. The only people I was interested in were my friends and the mystique that was Helga.
I just couldn't figure her out.
I stared at the lyrics as they stared at me. Helga picked this. If I were Helga, the Helga that used to... LOVE me... what would those lyrics mean?
Still, parties did have one appeal to attending. A long time ago when I was younger there had been someone-
No, Helga wouldn't go to a party just to see somebody. That's unrealistic. I deleted my words and tried again, this time thinking back to how I'd found Helga those days ago sitting on her stoop; drenched from fresh rain.
Someone approached me then; their umbrella folded and tucked under their arm. "Are you okay?" They asked, and I frowned in their general direction. "What's it matter to you? Buzz off and mind your own business," I said. "Sorry, I was just trying to help," they responded and I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. "Well I don't NEED your help. I'm just fine."
"Whatever you say, Helga," I said with a sigh. "Whatever you say." My feet splashed in the puddles as I walked away, though I couldn't help but to look back and see Helga looking after me; that forlorn look lost in her eyes.
The memory disapated and I fluttered my eyes as I looked at the words I'd written. Hesitantly, as if someone were watching over my shoulder, I added words I didn't know I was thinking until they were typed in front of my face.
They walked away, my eyes drawn to them as they left me to myself. There was once a time when I cared for that person- cared so deeply that I often said things I sometimes regretted when they were near. I cared for this person, once upon a time, when I was younger and foolish and didn't know what it meant to be in love.
My fingers typed furiously on the keyboard; a flurry of feelings being scrawled across the electronic piece of paper.
I knew I wasn't like this. I knew I was a good person and I knew that, given the right opportunity, I could show it to the world. But it was easier to hide behind what everyone thought I was- even if that meant hiding how I felt at every chance I had. This person who I once cared so much for, had given me plenty of chances to prove to them who I was. But that was years ago. I watched as they walked away; my heart feeling like a fresh bruise- but rather a scar left by the mistakes I'd made. I'd accepted what I'd done, and it was time to swallow the bitter pill and move on.
I sat back and looked at what I'd typed- the words like a neon sign screaming in my face. I knew what I'd written. It all made sense... but it was just a story. It wasn't like this was real and how Helga actually felt. These were just words and this was just a song and this all was just an assignment I'd probably get a B on.
But I couldn't stop.
I looked onto the next lyrics; the bridge. Instantly, I wrote my next series of words.
It was hard to let go though. Sometimes it made it hard to breathe like I was being crushed. I thought about it, more than I'd like to admit, and it haunted me like a nightmare I could never wake up from. It was an endless dream full of regrets- all of the things I'd done to ruin what could have been and what maybe still could be if I just tried again.
What was I typing? Where was I getting all of this from? It isn't like I felt that way. Well, not exactly. Maybe I DID think about those moments with Helga a lot. I closed my eyes and pursed my lips. But it was only because I couldn't figure her out. I couldn't, and still don't understand what had happened between us. What HAD happened?
The song ended on a melancholy note that sent shivers up my spine. It suspended itself in the air like a thought that just wouldn't go away; MY thoughts that just wouldn't go away.
It was dark where I sat, the glow from the street lamps flickering on at it's usual 5 o'clock. I looked out at the remnants from the rainstorm and sighed. It had only been a little storm- nothing significant. It wasn't a tornado or a typhoon or a monsoon like other places get, but it had ruined the day for me. It flooded me with reminders of what wasn't and that was enough to make me think that the devastation caused by this storm- no matter how small -had made for one impossible year.
"So how did it go?" Helga asked as I sat down beside her before class began. "The song I gave you. Did you come up with something?"
She seemed anxious for my answer, but I only smiled and nodded. "I did, actually. It's a very good song."
"Yeah, well-" Her remark was cut off by the bell and Mrs. Fincher rose from her desk to approach the front of the class.
"Good morning, everybody! I trust you had a pleasant night writing about your partner's song choices. Ready to exchange them and see how your partner interpreted your song?"
Her words made me freeze and my heartbeat nearly stopped.
No, she can't see this. She can't read what I wrote she'll... she'll KILL me.
"Alright, Hair Boy. Let's see how much you messed up one of my favorite songs." Helga said plainly while tossing me her paper which was written in pink pen with doodles littering the margins of the page.
I sat and stared at it blankly. "I uh... I didn't write anything."
"You just said you did. Really proudly, might I add." She made a motion with her hand implying I should give her my story. "Hand it over and let's get this show on the road."
The color was draining from my face but I took a deep breath and softly shut my eyes while reaching for my paper which was neatly typed and sitting inside my green folder.
It's just a story, why are you so nervous? It isn't like she'll do more than berade your attempt at creative writing. 'What a cop-out,' she'll say. 'You just took something that already happened and tried to analyze it like you always do. Typical football-head behavior.' She'll probably just crumple it up and call it junk.
She snatched it from my hands once I took it out and immediately began to scan the page. I watched as her eyes softened and the scowl once lining her lips faded to a blank expression. Slowly, she lowered the paper and turned to look at me.
"This... YOU wrote this?" She said, her eyes brimming with moisture as they searched mine.
"Y-yeah." I cleared my throat nervously. "Yeah, I did."
Mrs. Fincher began to quietly walk around the room and pass out grading sheets we were to use on each other's papers. I didn't bother to look down as she set a pair of papers on my desk and move on to the next pod beside us.
Helga continued to stare at me, a slight shake of her head making me fidget uncomfortably in my desk. I reached out to take my paper back from her and set it face-down ahead of me.
"I know its bad, alright? But... I worked really hard on it and I'd appreciate it if you would hold your-"
"How did you know?" She said overlapping me as I talked.
I looked at her with confusion. What was she talking about? "How did I know what?"
She swallowed a hard gulp and blinked a couple of times before finally saying in no louder than a whisper, "How did you know what I was going to write about?"
A smile spread across my face.
Maybe this year wouldn't be as impossible as Helga had thought.
