Helga,
I am writing to you now because I needed to, ever so much. I was unsure if I were to come to your house if you would turn me away. But the fact that Daddy is moving us to a different city because of his job made me decide to tell you.
The reason I could never like like Arnold is because…
I like you.
I like you like you.
I like the fact that no one seems to sway you. You are smart, and poetic and strong, things I see in you quite clearly. When Mister Simmons had me help grade papers I read your poems.
"My darling, my darling, kiss me my darling.
Oh so shamed, my prometheus,
Wandering the dismal deserts of my tormented soul."
Even Mister Simmons had a hard time believing that you wrote that. But I knew. I had been to your house and (I hope this doesn't embarrass you ever so much) your sister Olga showed me your room when you were out. She was so proud of how smart you are, and the books you read. I noticed you also own Leaves of Grass. It's one of my favorites. Nature based poetry reminds of the farm from my old town.
I know you love Arnold. I knew before you told me at the school play. The hitting, the nicknames, the poems about a boy with a football shaped head, I understand it and I think it is sweet. Sweet that you see the goodness in Arnold the way I see it in you. Despite your gruff exterior, you always do the right thing.
Arnold is a good kid. He is smart, popular, nice, and he cares about others. All of which I could say the same for you. But the reason I like you like you and not Arnold is because it isn't hard for Arnold to be nice.
But I hope you can see that you and I have more in common. I don't want you to think that I want you to stop loving like-liking Arnold.
Oh no!
I see him as your muse. Someone to reflect all the good in you, you dare not show others. Like a moon reflecting the sun's light. I would never want you to think that I wanted to take that from you. Your feelings, even toward another, are ever so important to me!
I do hope though, ever so much, that one day you would, see that we could be friends. And if that is all you ever wanted I would permit to that.
I had hoped that we could talk about poetry or writing some time at recess but you were often playing kickball or baseball with the other kids.
I find also that ever so nice about you. You are strong enough to hit a ball as hard as any boy. But sensitive enough to emote your feelings into poetry and art. A true renaissance-girl.
But I can see how the way your family is often distracted could hurt your feelings. I can tell by the way your face falls when they talk about Olga and neglect to notice you. I know I may be too late but I hope ever so much that I am not.
I like you like you.
Sincerely,
Lila