Dear Po3tPink,

Hey, how've you been?

I figured I might as well go ahead and email you.

It's been a while since we last talked.

Anyway, what's up? How's life? How's school? How's the awesome family?

It's been alright with me. School is starting to kill me.

Do you like the way I wrote this as an actual letter?

I thought it would be artistic and such.

Am I asking too many questions?

Anyhoo, write back soon. It's always nice to hear from you.

Sincerely,

Blu3h4tLol

Helga smiled as she clicked out of her email account and shut off her computer, a little disappointed she didn't have enough time to reply back that morning. She was already running late that day, and as much as she would have loved to write back and tell him all about the past couple of days (which had actually been more interesting than usual), she simply did not have the time.

She loved having an internet companion to talk to, it was much less stressful than talking to someone face to face.

She had been writing to this mystery boy for quite some time now. They discovered each other on Deviant, each sharing the same interests in abstract artwork and tragic poetry. They soon found that they had more in common than just art and literature, and developed a connection that went beyond the boundaries of the internet dial-up. They shared everything with one another; family issues, crazy parents (or grandparents), schoolwork, and more. Yet, what they failed to reveal were their true identities. They both agreed it would be much more exciting and mysterious that way.

She looked at the clock and realized what time it was. "HOLY SHIT - I'm going to be late for school!"

Helga dressed at lightning speed. As a senior in high school, she had changed drastically since fourth grade. Her curves had finally filled out, giving her more of a hourglass shape. Her unibrow was no more; a frantic moment of desperation and angst back in freshmen year resulted in her plucking her eyebrows so hard they never grew back. Luckily they had the perfect arch and framed her face very well. And instead of wearing two pigtails in her hair like she used to, her hair now resembled more of the style that "Cecile" had, her bangs covering one of her eyes and her pretty blond hair cascading down her back. She was quite attractive, if not a little rough around the edges.

No longer limiting herself to a simple pink dress, she now had a wide variety of outfits to choose from. However, most of them were pink, and she still kept her signature bow in her hair, although it was considerably smaller and a little more trendy. Today, she wore a lovely blouse with a matching skirt. As tomboyish as she was, Helga certainly did not dress like it and was very much in touch with her feminine side.

Especially when it came to a certain boy...

She grabbed her backpack and one final glance back in her room to remember any forgotten items was met with a small golden locket on her pillow. It was her fourth grade locket, the one she had kept beside her heart ever since preschool...

Helga shook her head. "I can't go back to that now..." Too painful, too early. Time for school. She rushed downstairs in hopes that she would forget about the locket... for now.

Helga entered the extremely large Hillwood High, the school she had been attending for 4 years. The halls were crowded with teenagers, grouping together like blood clots in an artery. Some pushed past her as she ventured towards her locker.

School wasn't very different than it was in elementary. Well, actually it in truth it was, but although all the kids were in high school now, they were still pretty much unscathed from the many curve balls life had thrown at them. Very few of them had changed drastically. For instance, Phoebe was still a four-eyed bookworm, although she had become a bit more statuesque and attractive as the years went on. But one thing that had not changed was that she was still Helga's best friend. Since elementary, their friendship had blossomed into something much deeper than simply Phoebe trying to please Helga and Helga bossing her around.

Phoebe popped up beside Helga once she reached her locker. "Hey Helga!"

"Crimony, Pheebs! You know I hate when people sneak up on me!"

Phoebe smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Helga."

Helga rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Helga collected the books she needed for her classes that day. Phoebe waited impatiently, biting her lower lip and rocking back and forth on her heels, practically spilling over with excitement. Helga glared over at her best friend.

"What's with the sickening cheeriness, Pheebs? You're acting like a rabid fan girl at a Ronnie Matthews concert."

"Ask me about my weekend!"

Helga sighed. "Alright, Pheebs, I'll humor you: What happened this weekend?"

"Oh Helga, you'll never guess what happened to me this weekend!" Phoebe exclaimed while jumping up and down.

"You're right, I won't."

"Gerald finally asked me out!"

Helga stood there with a blank expression. She blinked once.

"I know, I know, it took him a little while, but it's finally happened now! I'm so happy! You have no idea how good this feels!"

"You're right, I don't," Helga mumbled to herself.

"Here he comes! Do I look okay!?"

"Like a million bucks, now pipe down! You're making a scene that I DON'T want to be involved with."

The girls watched as their childhood friend meandered down the hallway. Now, Gerald was one of the few kids that had grown out of their awkward adolescent stage and grown into a becoming young person. He, unlike many of the other guys, underwent a major growth spurt, and was now 6'2" (minus the tall hair) and captain of the basketball team. But he was no less of a great guy because of it. He still told his random and lively stories, and he was still Arnold's best friend.

Gerald met Phoebe halfway. She leaped towards him and they were suddenly locked in a lover's embrace. He looked like the happiest guy alive. And although she couldn't see her face, Helga knew this was one of Phoebe's "special moments" she told Helga she always dreamed of having. It was like something out of a romance novel, cue violin music and all. Helga couldn't help but gag a little bit.

"Disgusting... hey, Pheebs, as fun as it is to watch you snog your boyfriend in the hallway, I think I'd rather pound nails into my forehead. Later."

Helga walked away, not knowing for sure if they heard her or not. They had fallen out of their hug and were now talking intimately, Gerald holding Phoebe's hand oh so gently. Helga let out an annoyed sigh. It was bad enough that Helga herself had never had a boyfriend, but the fact that her best friend, who was even more awkward with guys than she was, got a great looking boyfriend in less than a couple months. It absolutely drove her mad. Helga walked a little more aggressively.

All of a sudden, there was a rapid collision. Helga found herself on the floor in less than a millisecond and her head was hurting terribly. She rubbed her forehead and looked to see who, or what, she had run into.

All of a sudden, her heart stopped beating.

All of a sudden, she felt like she couldn't breathe.

It was him, the boy she had loved ever since she could remember. The one that has been her Muse, her inspiration, her reason to live. The one that had saved her life more than once. It was Arnold. And he was still as beautiful to her as the last time he had seen her, even with the growing bump on his head.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to, I wasn't watching where I was going, that was my fault. Are you oka-?"

He was even beautiful when he stuttered, Helga thought. But he stopped when he realized whom exactly he had run into. Helga could do nothing but stare.

"Oh... hey."

She couldn't even respond to his "hey". That was the effect he always had on her. She couldn't even conjure up a good insult anymore, even if it was half-hearted. Their eyes met with an intense gaze that neither of them could break. The past couple of days replayed themselves in Helga's mind, over and over again, without a pause button or commercial breaks. The awkward silence between them was growing, escalating into a symphony of noiselessness. Arnold was finally brave enough to break it.

"Do you need any... thing? Anything at all? Like, homework help or something?"

Homework... that was the least of her problems. Helga shook her head slowly and got the idea to pick herself off the ground. Once she was up again, she quickly started towards the other side of the hall, hoping to lose him as fast as she could. He stared after her, never breaking his gaze once. She turned around to look at him one more time, but in the process dropped one of her books. She tried to pick it up, but she was walking so fast that she couldn't turn around to catch it in time and ended up tripping over her own feet. Blushing like mad, Helga scrambled to pick herself and the book up and dashed around the corner and into her classroom. Arnold stood behind her, baffled by the entire experience. The bell rang, and he made his way to his class.

It was a long day for Helga.

First period was a bore, Helga barely able to get her encounter with Arnold out of her mind. She spent the entire class time doodling pictures of the math teacher falling into dark pits of ravenous numbers. All the numbers had wild blond hair.

Second period was better. It was gym class, and she was able to get her mind off Arnold again after slamming a volleyball into some defenseless girl's face. Although she had grown out of her bullying tendencies, Helga still enjoyed creaming others in competitions involving sports. It was a great replacement for therapy. After the child therapist had left P.S. 118 for bigger and better things, Helga didn't really have anyone left to talk to about... certain things. She smirked to herself as she watched the girl take herself to the nurse's office.

Third period was science. They dissected a pig. It was gruesome, even for Helga, but kind of funny watching everyone else cringe at the sight of body organs.

Fourth period Creative Writing was her favorite, mostly for being the last period of the day, but also because Phoebe was in it, along with most of the other kids she knew from elementary. Being known throughout the school as an "easy A", Creative Writing was a popular choice for many bored seniors wanting to take an interesting class before they left public school forever. There was Rhonda, still the popular and superficial rich girl, and her best friend Nadine, who followed her around like a lost puppy; Harold, who had surprisingly gotten fatter, but failed to lose his rotten attitude towards others; Stinky, who had grown in height but not in smarts; Curly, who hadn't grown an inch and was still considered the school psychopath; Sid, who was still an avid mysophobic; and Sheena, who had not cut her hair since fourth grade and wore peace signs on her jeans. Unfortunately, Arnold was included in this group, showing a sudden enthusiasm for good literature. Needless to say, there was never a dull day in this class.

"Alright, class," the teacher commanded the room's full attention. "I'm passing back your poetry projects. While most of you did excellent, some of you could have put a LITTLE more effort into it. Not naming any names or anything, cough HAROLD cough."

Harold sneered in his seat. "What am I supposed to know about i-am-ick pentameters or whatever?"

"They're actually quite whimsical and entertaining, if you ask me," piped Eugene from the front and center desk. Time had been kind to Eugene; he had grown out of his clumsy demeanor and was actually one of the most suitable bachelors in the school. His sweet and happy-go-lucky persona had not changed, and made him even cuter to most of the girls. His freckles and orange hair only added on to his attractiveness.

Harold pointed a fat finger in the boy's direction, "Shut up, you jinx! Poetry is STUPID! S-T-U-P-D Stupid! And I don't care about it!"

The teacher scorned back, "That's why you failed this project. Better luck next time." She handed him a paper that had a giant red "F" at the top.

The entire class snickered at the overweight boy as he pouted in his seat. Helga rolled her eyes at the kid and thought to herself, "Stupid fat boy, he wouldn't know beautiful poetry if it bit him in his gluteus maximus..."

The teacher put Helga's work on her desk. "Nice work Helga, as always," she whispered with a wink in her eye, "It's always nice to hear from you. Your work is some of the best I've ever written, especially for a high school student!"

Helga smiled to herself. She loved writing poetry, but she loved it more when someone else was affected so greatly by it as well. It gave her a sense of accomplishment and pride. But the teacher also reminded her to write back her internet friend. Maybe he'd want to hear some of her work...

"Umm, Miss Teacher?" Stinky raised his hand, speaking in his heavy Southern accent.

"Yes, Stinky?"

"You gave me an 'I' for my project, what does that mean? Did I do really, really badly?"

"No, Stinky," she reassured. "It just means you didn't finish it completely. I stands for Incomplete. Just finish the rest and hand back in tomorrow."

"But I did finish it!"

"You completely left out half of the last sentence."

"How could I have completely left it out and get an incomplete?"

Harold grabbed his head and screamed, "I'm so confused!"

The class burst out into laughter as the teacher shook her and head and pinched the skin between her eyebrows. Helga wasn't paying much attention, working on another poetic creation as she waited for the class to regain its composure. Suddenly, somebody snatched the paper right from her hands.

"Oh, what's this Helga? A love letter?" Sid cackled as he crumpled her work a little bit.

"Give it back, nose boy! It's none of your business."

"Why are you getting so defense about it? What's it say, anyway..." Sid began to read it. Helga grew panicked; it was something very personal, a confession of sorts, and the last person she wanted to read it first was SID.

Helga quickly snatched it back. "Here, I'll read it for you nose face." Helga cleared her throat and spoke very loudly, enunciating every word perfectly. "There once was a kid named Sid, who never shut his lid. His nose was too big, and he looked like a pig, and then he went home and cried."

The class burst out into another round of laughter. Sid blushed and hid his face under his hat. Helga smiled triumphantly, proud of her winning wisecrack. She might be 18 now, and a little more mature than she was 10 years ago, but she would never grow out of a good insult.

The bell rang. The kids scrambled out of their seats and out of the room, anxious to get home and do something fun. The teacher yelled after them to remember to fully complete the homework she assigned them this weekend. Helga took her time, knowing it would take a while to navigate her way through the busy halls. All of her books managed to slip off her desk and onto the floor again, so she let out a defeated sigh and proceeded to pick them back up.

A helping hand offered to assist. Helga looked up to see who it was. It was the same beautiful, blond-haired boy she had run into earlier: Arnold. She pushed him away.

"I can do it myself, Football Head, I don't need your help." she said softly. Calling him "Football Head" was more of a term of endearment than an insult nowadays, which they both eventually came to accept. Arnold kind of liked the way she said it, in a way. He wore a worried look on his face.

"It's just that... I never got a chance to talk to you about... the other night. And I really want to. I feel like we have unfinished business."

Helga gathered her books in her arms and made her way to the door. "There's nothing to left talk about. I think you made yourself pretty clear when you... when you..."

She couldn't even bring herself to finish the sentence without tearing up. Arnold's face fell into a dark frown. The look broke Helga's heart, but it was nothing compared to the aching she had felt so many nights ago. She swallowed a lump in her throat and turned her back on him, ready to leave, when another hand touched on her shoulder. She froze in her tracks.

"That's the thing... I didn't want it to end that way. In fact, there's something I've been meaning to tell you for a long time..."

"Save it, Arnold. I can't..."

"You can't what?"

"I just can't!" Helga's voice became high pitched and girly on that last "can't". She blushed and raced out the door, leaving Arnold alone with his own thoughts once again. In the empty hallway, Helga turned back and whispered just loud enough to echo off the walls, but quiet enough for only her to hear,

"I just can't love you anymore. It hurts too much..."

Helga ran all the way home and straight up into her bedroom. Fortunately for her, no one was home, so she could mope with herself in silence. Bob was working overtime at the Beeper Imporium and Mirium was at her weekly AA meeting. Olga, thank God, wasn't coming home for another couple of months, on account that she was busy doing charity work for orphaned children in Africa. Nobody would be home for hours.

Helga laid on her bed for a while, defeated from the long day at school. She felt like she would never finish it. Graduation was pretty close, but the days just seemed to draw themselves out longer and longer, causing all the seniors to think they were trapped in a never ending void.

After a few minutes, she decided to get SOME of her homework done before she got too discouraged. She opened up her laptop and saw the email from Blu3h4tLol still open from this morning. She grinned to herself, thinking aloud, "I guess I have time for one quick little email. I'll make it fast."

Dear Blu3h4tLol,

Sorry it's taken so long, been busy with stuff. I'll try to write last few days have been kind of exciting, promise I'll write more later. Nothing's up, life is good, school is bad, awesome family is just SO awesome. I hope you can detect the sarcasm there. I did like how you wrote it as an actual letter, I feel like Juliet or Rapunzel or something receiving a letter from her beloved. Ha ha. No you're not asking too many questions. If you're in the artsy mood, I've got a piece of poetry I'd like to share with you if that's okay. I wrote it myself a few years ago, I hope you like it. Maybe you'll want to read more of my magnificent masterpieces? Sarcasm there too.

It's nice to hear from you as well. Write back soon.

---

Cowlicks, like fields of yellow corn,

All the days of the week,

I write the name I dare not speak.

The boy with the cornflower hair,

My beloved, and my despair.

Sincerely,

Po3tPink