*This story is a rewritten and updated version of a story I posted almost 7 years ago (original title: All In Your Head), when I was about 14 years old and had no idea what I was doing, under the pen name HyperSocksBlarg. I've changed my pen name to reflect the difference, and the original is still up, but I wouldn't recommend reading it.*
It's All In Your Head
Chapter One
Everyone wants something. Some people want to be wealthy or famous, to be popular, to be the best. Some want dessert, others would just like something to eat. Some want to be the best, while others wish they weren't so good at things. To want is normal, but to let desires consume you can lead to tragedy.
To want is normal, but what if what you want isn't real? What if everything you've ever known, everything you've ever wanted was not what it seemed? What if this is all just an illsion? Everything you thought you were, everything you thought was, is, does not exist. What if it is all in your head?
It was her fourteenth birthday--not that it really mattered; no one cared enough to wish her a "happy birthday" anymore. Her parents had never been the most loving or attentive people in her life. Her father was busy running his beeper empire, and her mother probably had no idea what time it was, let alone the date. Not even her best friend noticed her on the day of her birth; they hadn't spoken since high school had begun. The two girls had drifted apart: Phoebe with a new group of friends and Helga by herself.
Helga was a loner, a reject, unable to fit in with anyone else, but it made no difference to her. She had no desire to be like anyone else. Unlike so many girls her age, she didn't care about popularity. Annoying, ditzy, giggling girls who flirted with all the boys and hardly had the intelligence of a turkey...they disgusted her. She wasn't like them, and she didn't want to be. Helga G. Pataki was her own woman and the fact that she had a brain was a nice bonus. Who needed friends? Who needed "status?" She was fine by herself. Other people were just a hassle.
It's not that she wasn't pretty. She was okay-looking. Not the most beautiful girl in the world--there was no way she could be that, the way she took care of herself--but close enough. She had the potential. In the 4-5 years since she had been that skinny, awkward fourth grade bully, she had grown into her looks. She had changed, but only in appearance. She still held that anger towards everyone around her. She still attacked and abused anybody who got close to her. Sure, the popular girls in school weren't always the nicest people, but they didn't throw spitwads at people, or stuff them into lockers. They found Helga's behavior to be very immature. The popular girls thought Helga was a waste of space and oxygen, and the feeling was mutual.
Helga hadn't had a real birthday since... Come to think of it, Helga had never had a real birthday. Her birthday had always been like every other day: boring and lonely. By now she was used to it. It was okay with her, but it annoyed her that her birthday had to be on a school day this year. She loved to have the day off, to read, sleep, and perhaps daydream about Arnold all day.
Yes, Arnold. Helga was obsessed with him, as she had been since she was three years old. How long had it been, now? Eleven years? Yes, eleven years of torture, of watching Arnold fall in love with every girl but her, only to have his heart broken a thousand times over. If only he would fall for her, then they could end each other's suffering. Helga would have the one thing she had ever hoped for in her fourteen years--to be loved by Arnold--and Arnold would have what he wanted: someone who truly loved him. Everything would be perfect.
Like Arnold. Arnold was perfect, by human standards. Smart, sweet, sensitive and popular. Sure, he had some flaws, but these were miniscule in comparison to what was great about him. Still the ever-present, always-needed voice of reason, Arnold helped everyone who would come to him with their problems. He was the one guy all the girls seemed to be interested in, the one guy all the boys wanted to hang out with. He had no enemies.
Arnold got along with pretty much everybody, except for one person. She never seemed to notice that he existed. Helga Pataki, his tormentor for seven years of his life. She had changed. Though she had never liked him from the start (Arnold was still as dense as ever), at least she had acknowledged him in the past. Helga had become a challenge for him; the only girl who wouldn't give him a second glance. The only one who didn't seem to think he was all that great. The only one who didn't trust him or confide in him. Any attention from Helga, no matter how negative, was good enough for him. She hadn't talked to, annoyed, aggravated or abused him since the sixth grade. For the last couple years he had wanted to stop her in the hall, strike up a conversation with her, something, but his friends had held him back. Talking to a "reject" like Helga was against the rules.
Although Helga did not care about birthdays or friends or anything of the sort, she couldn't help but wonder. What did girls her age do on their birthdays? What kinds of gifts did they receive? Helga had never even received a birthday present before. It might be nice to get a nicely wrapped gift from someone who cared about you. A CD, a penny, it wouldn't really matter, as long as it was from somebody who cared, and it wasn't a rat. She hated rats.
She slapped herself across the face, to remind herself that she didn't care about birthdays or friends, and she went back to whatever the assignment was in her History class. Only six more class periods, and lunch, to go before she was home free.
Helga sat in front of Arnold in English class, but she never turned around for even a moment to look at him. She wouldn't even turn to face him when the last night's homework was passed to the front of the room. She just held her hand out behind her until the papers were placed in it.
Arnold was excited today. He had decided the night before, damn the consequences, that he was going to reconnect with Helga. He had a great plan for it, too.
It was almost April and school would be over in June. Who knew if she would be in any of his classes next year. English was his best chance. It was an Honors class, so few of his "popular" friends had even set foot in the room. He didn't have to worry about what anybody thought, so there was no way he could chicken out.
The late bell rang and Arnold took his seat behind her. "Take out a pen and begin your grammar test," the teacher announced as he passed the worksheets out.
Oh great. A test. This could take the whole period, and if it did, there was no way he'd be able to go through with his plan... but wait... Arnold raised his hand "Mr. Phillips, didn't we have homework last night?" he asked.
Groans from his classmates and an elated smile from the teacher. "Why, yes, Arnold! We did! I almost forgot!" Mr. Phillips glared at the rest of his griping students, "Please pass up last night's assignment, THEN begin the test."
Yes! It had worked! This was his chance! As he waited for the girl behind him to sign her name to her homework, Arnold noticed that Helga was acting a bit odd. She sighed a lot and stared at the clock. What was she thinking about?
"Finished!" the excitable girl behind him announced as she tossed her paper into the air.
Arnold almost fell out of his seat trying to catch it. Quickly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in colorful paper. Helga's hand was waiting. Instead of handing her the papers, he placed the box into her waiting hand, but didn't let go of it.
Helga was annoyed. The teacher was almost at her row, and the thing in her hand felt nothing like the last night's homework! She let go of it, and spun around to glare at Arnold.
Arnold grinned mischievously. His plan had worked. He placed the small box back into Helga's hand, before lightly smacking her on the forehead with the stack of assignments. "Happy birthday, Helga," he whispered.
*There we go. Please, let me know what you think. I enjoy feedback.*