"Roses are red. It's stems are green. I like flowers and all, but not as much as lemon puddin' Thank you." Stinky gave a bow in front of the class. One or two kids clapped but all in all it was a pretty awkward silence. Mr. Simmons started to clap loudly, earning the attention of the kids dozing off, making their heads shoot up.
"Stinky that was...very special." Mr. Simmons forced a smile. "Thank you, you can sit down. I'll be sure to add the extra credit on your paper." Stinky handed him the paper with the poem on it.
"Why, thank you kindly, Mr. Simmons." Stinky sat in his seat feeling more happy about himself.
"You call that a poem?" Helga whispered to Phoebe. Phoebe giggled but quickly regained her 'good student' posture.
"Well...would anyone else want to come up and read their poem for the extra credit? There's no such thing as a bad poem." Mr. Simmons said encouragingly.
"That only applies to people who are deaf." Helga huffed.
The class started to snicker behind their hands. Stinky just scratched his head, confused. Arnold didn't seemed to be amused in the slightest, rolling his eyes at Helga. Helga took notice, tearing then rolling up a corner of her paper with her poem on it, and put it in her mouth, rolling it on her tongue. She spit it out through a straw and shot it at the back of Arnold's head. Arnold looked back at her, an annoyed look on his face. She faked innocents, mouthing a 'what?' with a snarl. He brought his hand up to the top of his tall bristly hair, trying to shake the paper wad out.
"Oh, Arnold! Would you like to come up and read your poem?" Mr. Simmons noticed Arnold's raised hand.
"Um, well I-" Arnold was close to rejecting the idea but looking at Mr. Simmons desperate pleading smile, he didn't seem to have much of a moral choice. "I uh...sure." Arnold stood, his cheeks growing warm. He walked up to the front of the class, paper in hand, and started to read his poem.
"T-the Dog and the Ball." Arnold stumbled over his words.
"Oh, brother." Helga rolled her eyes. Arnold narrowed his eyes but chose to ignore her and proceed. He coughed, clearing his throat.
"The dog had a ball. His most favorite of all. It...was red and-"
"Oh, brother. Just put me out of my misery now." Helga grabbed her pencil, making a jab motion at her chest, then fake dying, sticking out her tongue and rolling her eyes in the back of her head.
"Now Helga, it takes a lot of guts to stand up here and present something very special such as a poem." Mr. Simmons tried his best to get his class to calm down, they all laughing hysterically at Arnold's expense. Arnold just blushed deeper. He didn't need to take this.
"Yeah, let's see you come up here, Helga." Arnold countered. The class OOO'd in a 'it just went down' manner. Helga scowled.
"I don't have to prove myself to an illiterate football head like you."
"What, are you scared Hewlga!" Harold mocked from behind her.
"Shut up, pink boy!" Helga looked back at him. He leaned lower in his seat, suddenly feeling pretty threatened. He muttered nine year old appropriate profanities.
"Helga, would you like to come up and read one of your poems?" Mr. Simmons seemed generally interested. He didn't know why she liked to hide the fact that she could write poetry at an arguably college level. Helga rolled her eyes.
"No way. I ain't no flower girl. I don't write poetry! Besides, I don't need the extra credit and I definitely don't need to prove anything to no one. Helga doesn't fall easily under pressure."
Helga stabbed her thumb to her chest, motioning to herself. The lunch bell rang and everyone stood and ran to the door.
"Wait! Leave your poems on your desks so I can collect them!" Mr. Simmons wanted to make sure he was able to finish grading before the day ended. He looked at Arnold, who still stood with his poem in his hand. Arnold handed it to Mr. Simmons.
"Thank you Arnold. And don't worry about not finishing in front of the class. You'll still get your credit."
"Thanks Mr. Simmons." Arnold smiled his ear to ear grin and then proceeded to walk out and into the hallway, heading for lunch.
Mr. Simmons brushed the little hair on his head back, feeling a wave of stress slap him in the face. He walked over to the desks, collecting the poems on them. He reached Helga's desk, skimming through it quickly. He sighed. She had such talent yet she didn't want to share it. It was disappointing to say the least.
…
"I got it. Ew, that's just gross." Gerald used a fork to get the couple wads of paper out of Arnold's tuffs of hair. "It's hard to believe she's a girl."
"Oh, come on, Gerald. She isn't that bad." Arnold leaned his head on one hand. He picked at his mystery meat a little, not really able to have the courage to put it in his mouth. He sighed.
"Arnold, I don't know why you're always defending her. She seems to pick on you in particular. Doesn't that bother you?" Gerard put his hands up in the air.
"Of course it bothers me. It's just…"
"Just what?" Gerald raised an eyebrow. Arnold looked towards Helga. She suddenly looked away from him, as if she wasn't staring at him at all. Arnold tapped his fingers lightly on the table. What was it? Why didn't he give up yet? She gives him every reason to just plain snap. Maybe that's what she wants? Does she want him to snap?
"I don't know. She's...not that bad."
"Not that bad?" Gerald tisked then rolled his eyes. "Whatever. There's no helping you. You're basically a dead man walking.
Helga turned her head hurriedly. Did he see her?
"Helga, you've barely touched your...shaving cream? And a toothbrush?" Helga pushed her lunch box to the side and laid her head in her hands flat on the table. "Oh, Helga. I don't mind sharing with you." Phoebe smiled sadly, handing Helga an apple.
"Thanks Pheebs but...I'm not really that hungry." Helga pushed the apple lightly back in Phoebe's direction. Phoebe frowned. "B-but if it's alright maybe I can come over for dinner after school?" Helga offered. Phoebe beamed back.
"Of course Helga! We're having tacos."
"Taco's? Have you ever even had a taco?"
"We're trying something new." Phoebe shrugged.
"Well it sounds perfect." Helga smiled.
RRRIIIINNNGGGG
"Welp, back to class. Great." Helga said sarcastically but, either way, it wasn't like she would be eating anything anyways. Phoebe looked worried but bit her tongue. It's happened before and it'll happen again. There really wasn't a chance Helga's pride would subside in that time.
…
"Alright, I'm passing back your papers. Everyone did a fantastic job." Mr. Simmons congratulated the class who looked less ecstatic than he would hope for his students. He cleared his throat. "Anyways, tomorrow we will be reviewing over the last three chapters in your english book."
Stinky, would you please pass back these papers for me?"
"Aw, shucks why do I always have to do it?"
"But Stinky...you never do it."
"Oh...right." Stinky scratched his head, went up to the front of the room and grabbed the papers. He walked around the room and started to hand them out. He was down to two left. He looked at the one on the top, it reading Anonymous in the middle top of the page. Stinky scratched his head. Who was this Anonymous person? He thought about it and snapped his fingers. Arnold! His name started with an A. "That's a weird way to spell that." He shrugged, handing Arnold the paper.
"Hey, smelly, I don't have all day." Stinky narrowed his eyes at Helga who was impatiently tapping her fingers on her desk.
"It's Stinky, Helga."
"Yeah, yeah. Same diff." Stinky handed her the last paper, not paying attention to the name at the top. She was the last kid in class and that was the last paper. He did the math in his head. He felt a little proud of himself. Helga quickly stuffed the paper in her bag, making sure no one tried to eye it. She didn't feel comfortable with Mr. Simmons not passing out the papers himself. But it was safe now and she didn't feel as anxious anymore.
"So, I am going to assign you to go through all three chapters and do the five questions in each of the review at the last page of the chapters. Let me get the page numbers."
RIIIINNNGGGGGGGG
"Oh F...fudge. Class dismissed." Mr. Simmons started to pack up as all the students flooded out the door.
"Out of my way!" Helga pushed past all the students, Phoebe close behind her. Arnold and Gerald were the last to leave. Arnold was busy packing his stuff in his bag as Gerald talked animatedly about a game he witnessed last Friday. Arnold really was trying his best to pay attention but his mind was a little crowded with thoughts.
"Hey, Arnold! Are you listening?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry Gerald. I was just thinking." Arnold flung his backpack to one shoulder and held his piece of paper in his hand, curious on his grade. He looked at the paper and was a little taken aback. This wasn't his poem.
"You're always in the clouds. I swear it's like I'm talking to myself half the time...Arnold...Arnold!"
"Huh?"
"Man, what is with you today?"
"Uh...this isn't my poem."
"So? It was just a mixup. Just tell Mr. Simmons that-"
"Wait, Gerald. Read this. Doesn't it look...kind of familiar?"
"Familiar how?" Gerald took the paper from Arnold and started reading it aloud. "I'm the straw you spun to gold as your eyes shone light through my once darkened abyss...haha, wow. You know what this sounds like?" Gerald laughed outloud.
"Yeah, I do."
"It sounds like a bunch of nonsense."
"No, Gerald. Look at it. How it's written."
"How it's Wr…" Gerald's eye's grew wide. "Wait a minute! Arnold! It's the pink book writing!"
"I know!" Arnold took the paper back.
"You know what this means? That she really is in this class!"
"You're right...but wait."
"What?"
"The name."
"What? Who is it?" Gerald tried to look back at the paper. The right corner of the page had been ripped out, where the name used to be. In the middle of the top of the page was the word anonymous written in red.
"Anonymous? Who's anonymous?"
"You know. It's when someone doesn't want to give their name, so they are called anonymous...I think."
"Ok...well, it doesn't mean we should give up. Let's see...we know how she writes. Let's just try to compare that writing with everyone in class."
"We already tried that once, remember? No one had that writing. She must be writing differently when she writes poetry."
"Man, Arnold. I guess this means we're reopening the case?" Gerald looked almost excited.
"...Yeah, I guess it does." Arnold smiled. He was sure he'd never figure out who wrote those poems.
…
"Oh, Helga. It's always good to have you over for dinner. You're so funny."
"Thanks Mrs. Heyerdahl. You're not too bad yourself." Helga said with a mouth full of taco.
"Oh, Helga, please, call me Reba." Phoebe's mom giggled. Her and her husband were always happy to have Helga around. Helga swallowed, finishing the last of her food. Suddenly her wrist watch went off, a present given to her from her sister. She said it symbolized how time and love are bla bla bla. Helga tuned her out on her little speech but was pretty happy to actually have a digital watch. It was already 6:45 and she'd promise her mom she'd be back by seven...though quite honestly she wasn't sure her mom would notice anyways.
"Well, it looks like I should be getting home."
"Are you sure? We thought we'd play a board game or something. Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Phoebe's dad looked hopeful along with the rest of them. Helga smiled. If she wasn't legally bind to her own family she'd swear this was hers.
"Sorry, but I really should be getting home. Thank you for having me."
"It's never a problem, pumpkin. Do you need a ride home?" Reba started to pick up the plates from the table.
"Nah, it's fine. I like walking...though maybe Phoebe could walk me home?"
"Of course, Helga. Is that ok mom?"
"By all means, go! We'll set up the board game while you're gone." Phoebe ran up and hugged her mother, thanking her then proceeded to head for the door, following Helga.
"Bye, Reba. Bye Kyo."
"Goodbye Helga." Phoebe's dad waved.
"Bye."
…
"Thanks for walking me home, Pheebs."
"It's never a problem Helga. I quite enjoy the walks from each other's house."
"Oh, before I forget I wanted to give you something."
"Give me something?"
"Call it an early birthday present." Phoebe laughed. It was nowhere close to her birthday but she was intrigued by what Helga was reaching inside her bag. Helga took out a couple of things so she could reach it. She took out a pink book, her math book, and her poem and set them aside. She then pulled out a small box and gave it to Phoebe.
"What's this, Helga?"
"Well, sometimes Phoebe, you have to open it to know what's inside." Helga said mockingly but all in good nature. Phoebe rolled her eyes but smiled none the less. She opened it and stood in awe. It was a friendship necklace. It was two pieces of a heart with her and Helga's name inscribed in the silver. Phoebe had no idea how her friend could afford such a thing or why she would give her such a great gift out of the blue.
"Helga...I love it! How could you afford this?"
"I have my ways." She rubbed her knuckles on her dress then looked at her nails.
"Oh, Helga!" Phoebe started to tear as she held Helga tightly. Helga blushed, a little startled. Phoebe rarely hugged her and, if she did, she almost always warned her. Helga patted her back awkwardly but she had a good feeling inside. "What did I do to deserve this?"
"Well...you do a lot of things, Pheebs. I just wanted to show you...well you know…" Helga rubbed her neck. Phoebe let go and wiped a tear from her eye, smiling.
"Thank you Helga. I'll treasure it always." Phoebe put the necklace around her neck, as did Helga with hers. Helga was happy. She really honestly wanted to show Phoebe that she cared but...it was hard for her. She wasn't really the "sentimental" type. What better way to show Phoebe then buying her something. Helga got a good enough allowance and sometimes she got double in case big Bob forgot he already gave her some. It was his way of showing her he cared but at the same time not really.
"Anyways, Phoebe, I should go now. I hope you like it."
"I do. I love it!" Helga went to pick up her stuff. She first grabbed her poem until, well, she realized it wasn't her poem.
"Huh?" Helga looked confused.
"What is it?"
"...this isn't my poem." Helga's eyes got wide. "This isn't my poem, Phoebe!"
"Oh, dear. What do you think happened to it?"
"Not a what, a who! Someone has my poem and whoever it is...oh no. No, no, no, no. They're probably going to blackmail me or something. Or worse…" Helga's eyes went wide. "They'll tell him...my…" Phoebe put a reassuring hand on Helga's shoulder.
"No, Helga. I'm sure you're overthinking it. Let's see first whose poem you took. Maybe they have it and we can catch them in time before they even look at it. You didn't even look at it until now."
"You're right...the Dog and the Ball by…" Helga went pale. Something clicked in Phoebe's brain as well.
"Arnold...Arnold has my poem!"
This is probably only going to be a one in a two to three part story, meaning it should only be two or three chapters. I want to finish it next chapter but...well you never know. Maybe I'll make actually want to write more than I think. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I shall write another sooner or later.