Child Prodigy
Chapter One
The bell rang and everything was normal in Mr. Simmons's fourth grade class. I surveyed the room, aware that Mr. Simmons hadn't come in yet. My fellow classmates were acting especially childish, and I have to admit I wasn't the most mature of them all myself. No, that position was filled by Arnold.
I shot a spitball on the back of Arnold's head.
"Hey! Cut it out, Helga!" he shouted, turning to glare at me, annoyed.
"What?" I responded, acting innocent, shrugging my shoulders like I didn't know what he was talking about.
"Class! Class, calm down now. Now, I have a "special" announcement to make." Mr. Simmons.
"What's new," I muttered to Phoebe hastily.
I rolled my eyes as I threw another spit wad at Arnold. He turned around and glared again. But now I had had enough, and instead directed my attention to Mr. Simmons.
"Now, I have received some exciting news about one of my special students! It has been decided that this person will be sent to a special school to develop his or her special gift. I regret to inform you that this student will have to go to school somewhere else, a school for child prodigies."
There was a gasp at the mention of a child prodigy. I scoffed, now knowing who he was referring to. Phoebe. A twinge of sadness came over me at the thought of my best and only friend leaving, but I didn't dare express it.
Stinky scratched his head, confused. "What the heck is a progidy?"
I rolled my eyes, very disturbed. Okay, guess it's not Stinky.
"How much you wanna bet it's Phoebe?" I said, a little sneer in my tone.
Mr. Simmons frowned at me, but said nothing.
Phoebe, my best friend, just sort of blushed bashfully. She's a shy, quiet girl, with a very fine mind. Once she was promoted to the sixth grade, but ended up coming back because she didn't get along well with her new class.
Arnold turned around to disagree, or as he would put it, "be open to other possibilities". I laughed coldly at this sudden ray of hope and optimism. I like Arnold and all, but his corny optimism and all around "good guy" act was a joke. Okay, so, it wasn't an act--believe it or not, the guy actually believes this crapola.
Me? Well, I'm basically everything Arnold isn't--or to put it simply, his opposite. If he's an optimist I'm a pessimist. He's a nice guy; I'm a bully.
But, despite all of our differences, we also have a lot in common. Of course, he doesn't know that, but then again, he doesn't know a whole lot about me. I don't exactly make it easy for him.
All this time and energy put into describing him and our relations to one another, one might wonder if maybe I gave him a particular amount of thought. One would be correct on that assumption.
I sneered at Arnold, and he got the hint.
"So, are you gonna tell us who it is or keep their thumbs twitching?" I demanded of Mr. Simmons, rather hastily.
He gave me a funny look before replying.
"Actually, Helga," he said, suddenly calm and solemn, "this person will be regarded as anonymous until I have spoken with him or her. If he or she decides to accept our offer, we will release the student's name, but until a decision is made, it will not be released."
Now, suddenly interested, I interrogated the matter. "Why would this person decline?"
Mr. Simmons hesitated, uncertain. "Well, you see, not only will he or she be transferred to another school, but the school is in another city, in another state… This school just doesn't provide the tools necessary to really develop the particular talent this person possesses. It would be hard to part with friends and classmates. Also, any other reason for not attending would have to be taken into consideration."
I narrowed my eyes, now not quite so sure of my earlier assumption.
Particular talent? What had he meant by that? Phoebe was smart, that wasn't really a talent. It's something she works hard and studies for, enjoys, and it comes naturally and easily to her. Maybe it wasn't Phoebe.
But if it wasn't Phoebe, then who?
I scanned the room. Stinky? Nah, the only talents he really possessed were farming and rolling sleeping bags as tightly as they were capable of being rolled. Not much intellectual stimulation there.
Harold? Yeah, right. What talent would he have to develop? Eating fifty Mr. Fudgies in a row? No, it couldn't be Harold.
Names ran through my mind, each one was denied. Finally I came to the last on the list…Arnold?
I gazed upon my beloved, exploring the possibility. Arnold was smart; maybe he wasn't a genius, but he was smart. I guess it could be Arnold, but he didn't really have a talent that would need to be looked into…did he?
Grief followed this realization. If it was Arnold, and he had to move away… I couldn't bear it!
I prayed it wasn't Arnold. Or Phoebe, or…really, when I came to think about it, I couldn't stand to part with any of them.
The bell rang, signaling recess. The kids ran out of the room, and the sound of the bell woke me from my haze. As I got up to leave, Mr. Simmons looked up from his paperwork, and motioned for me to stay.
"Helga, could I have a moment of your time?" he inquired.
I gulped, hoping I wasn't in trouble. The thought really hadn't crossed my mind…
"Helga, I've done a lot of consulting with Mr. Wartz, the other schools, your parents--and all that's left now is to propose the question. Helga, would you be interested in attending a school for child prodigies? Everyone seems to be open enough to the idea, although your father did have to take a while to consider the financial matters, but now I need your approval."
I stared at him, disbelieving. "Just what kind of school are we talking about here? Why me? I mean I'm really not gifted at anything and-"
He cut me off, insisting silence for him to speak.
"Helga, you are a very talented young poet, and I think that if you delved into the arts and explored your gift, you could really progress…"
My jaw dropped. My POETRY?!!! He'd shown these people my poetry?! I was speechless.
"An arts and literature school for child prodigies?" I scoffed, reading the brochure he'd handed me. "You want me to go to an ART SCHOOL?!! OH, no. NO way. There is NO way I'm going to go to some fancy smancy art school!"
Chapter Two
*A bus is seen, then it shows Helga sitting inside of it, slouching in her chair and scowling*
"I CAN'T believe I'm going to go to some fancy smancy art school," I growled.
Why had I agreed to this again?
"Well, Helga, although I will miss you terribly, I must confess this will help you to develop your skills, which you will one day prosper from and perhaps even make a career of. I can't deprive you of such an opportunity for my own selfishness and…I really think you should go."
Phoebe was sitting next to me, dazzled by the journey that lay before her best friend. I could tell she was trying hard not to make a scene, to fight back the tears. For me. Phoebe didn't want me to know how much this was hurting her, because she cared about me and wanted me to do what was best for me, to grow as a person.
Our friendship was being put through the ultimate test. And so far Phoebe had passed. Which was no surprise to me.
I sighed, not really wanting to take this time to mention the other person that would be hard to leave…
"But Phoebe, what about…" I lowered by voice, suddenly speaking very solemnly, "ice cream?"
Phoebe gasped, suddenly the realization hit her just how much heartache this was going to cause me. But before she could speak, I continued.
"I mean ice cream is my muse, it's my life, it's everything I thrive my existence on, it's all I have in the world!" I suddenly shouted, getting some very odd looks before quietly sitting back into my seat. "Besides you, that is," I added with a smile for my best friend.
Arnold and Phoebe were the only people in the world that cared about me or gave me the time of day. Okay, so maybe Arnold didn't show it as much anymore, but every once in a while he'll come around and save the day…usually just when I need it most. Phoebe, well, Phoebe is always there for me, and even though I usually don't take the time to do it, she's always open to talk to. She is the definition of a best friend.
I wish I could say the same for myself.
Arnold turned around in his seat to face me, Gerald following his example.
"You're the child prodigy Mr. Simmons was talking about?" Arnold asked, just as confused, or possibly more, than I had been.
I scowled at him, knowing how thrilled he must be at the news of my leaving.
"Yeah, and I'm sure you're just giddy at the mention of my moving away. Anyway, I'm still kind of mad at Simmons for recommending me in the first place, but I really don't have much of a choice. Bob has seized the opportunity to get me out of the house and out of his life…not a bad deal, actually, but I'm not exactly jumping for joy here."
I'd lost my scornful tone near mid-sentence, softening a bit as the realization hit. I was leaving in a week, maybe less depending on how eager Bob was at getting rid of me.
The kids at school wouldn't care. In fact, I'm sure they'll all be delighted to know that I'm leaving.
Throughout all of this, Gerald kept a blank face, not really concerned with the conversation. Not really caring that I was leaving. Of course I didn't expect him to care. Although it came as a surprise to me to know that he wasn't ecstatic to hear the news.
Arnold's curiosity had yet to wane. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could ask the question, I interrupted. I knew what was going on in his head already.
"Mr. Simmons wants me to 'delve into the arts'. He says, 'I'm a very talented young poet,' and something about developing my 'special gift'. I'm really not into the idea, but who knows, maybe I'll like it." I shrugged, pushing it aside. "Besides, at least it'll get me away from Miriam and Big Bob."
Arnold just sat there for a while, seeing if I had anything to say, and at the same time trying to come up with something for himself. Eventually he just sighed and turned around, slightly bothered.
I heard Gerald whisper to Arnold. "Man, Arnold, this has to be the greatest day of our lives. Helga Pataki is leaving."
I fought back the urge to pound him, and just growled under my breath. I never heard Arnold agree.
Stay tuned for Chapter Three!
Chapter One
The bell rang and everything was normal in Mr. Simmons's fourth grade class. I surveyed the room, aware that Mr. Simmons hadn't come in yet. My fellow classmates were acting especially childish, and I have to admit I wasn't the most mature of them all myself. No, that position was filled by Arnold.
I shot a spitball on the back of Arnold's head.
"Hey! Cut it out, Helga!" he shouted, turning to glare at me, annoyed.
"What?" I responded, acting innocent, shrugging my shoulders like I didn't know what he was talking about.
"Class! Class, calm down now. Now, I have a "special" announcement to make." Mr. Simmons.
"What's new," I muttered to Phoebe hastily.
I rolled my eyes as I threw another spit wad at Arnold. He turned around and glared again. But now I had had enough, and instead directed my attention to Mr. Simmons.
"Now, I have received some exciting news about one of my special students! It has been decided that this person will be sent to a special school to develop his or her special gift. I regret to inform you that this student will have to go to school somewhere else, a school for child prodigies."
There was a gasp at the mention of a child prodigy. I scoffed, now knowing who he was referring to. Phoebe. A twinge of sadness came over me at the thought of my best and only friend leaving, but I didn't dare express it.
Stinky scratched his head, confused. "What the heck is a progidy?"
I rolled my eyes, very disturbed. Okay, guess it's not Stinky.
"How much you wanna bet it's Phoebe?" I said, a little sneer in my tone.
Mr. Simmons frowned at me, but said nothing.
Phoebe, my best friend, just sort of blushed bashfully. She's a shy, quiet girl, with a very fine mind. Once she was promoted to the sixth grade, but ended up coming back because she didn't get along well with her new class.
Arnold turned around to disagree, or as he would put it, "be open to other possibilities". I laughed coldly at this sudden ray of hope and optimism. I like Arnold and all, but his corny optimism and all around "good guy" act was a joke. Okay, so, it wasn't an act--believe it or not, the guy actually believes this crapola.
Me? Well, I'm basically everything Arnold isn't--or to put it simply, his opposite. If he's an optimist I'm a pessimist. He's a nice guy; I'm a bully.
But, despite all of our differences, we also have a lot in common. Of course, he doesn't know that, but then again, he doesn't know a whole lot about me. I don't exactly make it easy for him.
All this time and energy put into describing him and our relations to one another, one might wonder if maybe I gave him a particular amount of thought. One would be correct on that assumption.
I sneered at Arnold, and he got the hint.
"So, are you gonna tell us who it is or keep their thumbs twitching?" I demanded of Mr. Simmons, rather hastily.
He gave me a funny look before replying.
"Actually, Helga," he said, suddenly calm and solemn, "this person will be regarded as anonymous until I have spoken with him or her. If he or she decides to accept our offer, we will release the student's name, but until a decision is made, it will not be released."
Now, suddenly interested, I interrogated the matter. "Why would this person decline?"
Mr. Simmons hesitated, uncertain. "Well, you see, not only will he or she be transferred to another school, but the school is in another city, in another state… This school just doesn't provide the tools necessary to really develop the particular talent this person possesses. It would be hard to part with friends and classmates. Also, any other reason for not attending would have to be taken into consideration."
I narrowed my eyes, now not quite so sure of my earlier assumption.
Particular talent? What had he meant by that? Phoebe was smart, that wasn't really a talent. It's something she works hard and studies for, enjoys, and it comes naturally and easily to her. Maybe it wasn't Phoebe.
But if it wasn't Phoebe, then who?
I scanned the room. Stinky? Nah, the only talents he really possessed were farming and rolling sleeping bags as tightly as they were capable of being rolled. Not much intellectual stimulation there.
Harold? Yeah, right. What talent would he have to develop? Eating fifty Mr. Fudgies in a row? No, it couldn't be Harold.
Names ran through my mind, each one was denied. Finally I came to the last on the list…Arnold?
I gazed upon my beloved, exploring the possibility. Arnold was smart; maybe he wasn't a genius, but he was smart. I guess it could be Arnold, but he didn't really have a talent that would need to be looked into…did he?
Grief followed this realization. If it was Arnold, and he had to move away… I couldn't bear it!
I prayed it wasn't Arnold. Or Phoebe, or…really, when I came to think about it, I couldn't stand to part with any of them.
The bell rang, signaling recess. The kids ran out of the room, and the sound of the bell woke me from my haze. As I got up to leave, Mr. Simmons looked up from his paperwork, and motioned for me to stay.
"Helga, could I have a moment of your time?" he inquired.
I gulped, hoping I wasn't in trouble. The thought really hadn't crossed my mind…
"Helga, I've done a lot of consulting with Mr. Wartz, the other schools, your parents--and all that's left now is to propose the question. Helga, would you be interested in attending a school for child prodigies? Everyone seems to be open enough to the idea, although your father did have to take a while to consider the financial matters, but now I need your approval."
I stared at him, disbelieving. "Just what kind of school are we talking about here? Why me? I mean I'm really not gifted at anything and-"
He cut me off, insisting silence for him to speak.
"Helga, you are a very talented young poet, and I think that if you delved into the arts and explored your gift, you could really progress…"
My jaw dropped. My POETRY?!!! He'd shown these people my poetry?! I was speechless.
"An arts and literature school for child prodigies?" I scoffed, reading the brochure he'd handed me. "You want me to go to an ART SCHOOL?!! OH, no. NO way. There is NO way I'm going to go to some fancy smancy art school!"
Chapter Two
*A bus is seen, then it shows Helga sitting inside of it, slouching in her chair and scowling*
"I CAN'T believe I'm going to go to some fancy smancy art school," I growled.
Why had I agreed to this again?
"Well, Helga, although I will miss you terribly, I must confess this will help you to develop your skills, which you will one day prosper from and perhaps even make a career of. I can't deprive you of such an opportunity for my own selfishness and…I really think you should go."
Phoebe was sitting next to me, dazzled by the journey that lay before her best friend. I could tell she was trying hard not to make a scene, to fight back the tears. For me. Phoebe didn't want me to know how much this was hurting her, because she cared about me and wanted me to do what was best for me, to grow as a person.
Our friendship was being put through the ultimate test. And so far Phoebe had passed. Which was no surprise to me.
I sighed, not really wanting to take this time to mention the other person that would be hard to leave…
"But Phoebe, what about…" I lowered by voice, suddenly speaking very solemnly, "ice cream?"
Phoebe gasped, suddenly the realization hit her just how much heartache this was going to cause me. But before she could speak, I continued.
"I mean ice cream is my muse, it's my life, it's everything I thrive my existence on, it's all I have in the world!" I suddenly shouted, getting some very odd looks before quietly sitting back into my seat. "Besides you, that is," I added with a smile for my best friend.
Arnold and Phoebe were the only people in the world that cared about me or gave me the time of day. Okay, so maybe Arnold didn't show it as much anymore, but every once in a while he'll come around and save the day…usually just when I need it most. Phoebe, well, Phoebe is always there for me, and even though I usually don't take the time to do it, she's always open to talk to. She is the definition of a best friend.
I wish I could say the same for myself.
Arnold turned around in his seat to face me, Gerald following his example.
"You're the child prodigy Mr. Simmons was talking about?" Arnold asked, just as confused, or possibly more, than I had been.
I scowled at him, knowing how thrilled he must be at the news of my leaving.
"Yeah, and I'm sure you're just giddy at the mention of my moving away. Anyway, I'm still kind of mad at Simmons for recommending me in the first place, but I really don't have much of a choice. Bob has seized the opportunity to get me out of the house and out of his life…not a bad deal, actually, but I'm not exactly jumping for joy here."
I'd lost my scornful tone near mid-sentence, softening a bit as the realization hit. I was leaving in a week, maybe less depending on how eager Bob was at getting rid of me.
The kids at school wouldn't care. In fact, I'm sure they'll all be delighted to know that I'm leaving.
Throughout all of this, Gerald kept a blank face, not really concerned with the conversation. Not really caring that I was leaving. Of course I didn't expect him to care. Although it came as a surprise to me to know that he wasn't ecstatic to hear the news.
Arnold's curiosity had yet to wane. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could ask the question, I interrupted. I knew what was going on in his head already.
"Mr. Simmons wants me to 'delve into the arts'. He says, 'I'm a very talented young poet,' and something about developing my 'special gift'. I'm really not into the idea, but who knows, maybe I'll like it." I shrugged, pushing it aside. "Besides, at least it'll get me away from Miriam and Big Bob."
Arnold just sat there for a while, seeing if I had anything to say, and at the same time trying to come up with something for himself. Eventually he just sighed and turned around, slightly bothered.
I heard Gerald whisper to Arnold. "Man, Arnold, this has to be the greatest day of our lives. Helga Pataki is leaving."
I fought back the urge to pound him, and just growled under my breath. I never heard Arnold agree.
Stay tuned for Chapter Three!