Strange
Why? Why wont you come, you really should be here, thought phoebe Heyerdahl mind as she wander in the more seedy streets of Hillwood.
After a bout of dry heaving she wandered on. Searching for… something. Somehow she ended up on the top of a tall building and a voice answered her back.
Why should I do that… isn't this something you should figure out for yourself?
Yes, she thought to herself, I… don't need to stay in a place like this. She smiled; the first genuine smile she's made in a long time. The first one since she and Helga drifted apart in the fifth grade.
Phoebe climbed over the railing that lined the building and stood on the edge of it. Taking off her glasses, she held them in one hand and leaning as far over the edge as she could while holding onto the railing with her other hand.
Yes… she thought as she let go, smile still plastered to her face, I can be free of this place.
As she fell her favorite blue sweater tore on the crisscrossing wires that connected to the builds in haphazard ways. One of the wires caught on her leg as she fell and it came down with her; crushing her already crumpled body even more with a still lite adult video store sign; splattering a couple, that was just a few steps shy of being crushed themselves, with blood.
Yells resonated throughout the streets at the loud commotion the sign and the screaming woman caused.
"What happened?"
"Is someone hurt?"
"Was it another suicide?"
"I didn't see anything! It wasn't me!"
Sirens sounded in the distance as a crowd began to form around a pool of blood and a pair of blue frame glasses that belong to Phoebe Heyerdahl.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~ one week later~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Helga Pataki left her house like any other day. She no longer wore her pink bow on top of her head like she did when she was young; instead she wore it braided in her long blonde hair on the left side- which for some reason seemed to be longer than her other side. Also gone was her pink dress with the orange stripe that she favored as a child. Now she wore an orange tee shirt with white jeans and pink hello kitty vans.
She made her way to the bench near her house and waited for the bus that would take her to P.S. 121. She was in eighth grade now, almost in high school, and she felt no excitement over the fact. She hasn't felt much of anything these days. In the fifth grade she started to distance herself from everyone and everything. There was no particular reason why, she just wasn't feeling anything; everyday became monotones. Even her love for Arnold seemed to become… bland and monotones as well. So she just stopped trying to make every day interesting.
More kids started showing up and the area around the bench started to get nosier and nosier.
Crimeny they're loud. She thought to herself, becoming annoyed. I wish they would shut up. The noise got louder as more kids arrived. Shut up. She said in her mind angrily.
"Shut up," she said quietly. It should have been impossible for anyone to hear her but suddenly everyone became quiet as if someone had shouted the command. Nobody knews who gave the command but they still complied and remained quiet until the bus came.
The hush held until the bus dropped all the kids off at school. Helga got off the bus with everyone else and started making her way to the building.
Looking at her feet Helga became entranced by her shadow which stretched in front of her. In the shadow she could she darker shapes that seemed to be shadows with in the shadow. Turing her attention upwards she stared at the students milling about in front of the school. In front of her eyes the building and students began to fade until there was nothing but a bland whiteness. Helga squinted, trying in vain to make shapes in the now bland and featureless landscape in front of her.
Suddenly the school bell rang signaling ten minute till homeroom. Regaining her sight Helga rushed to class, not needing to stop at her locker for she had all the materials she needed for the morning in her white and pink book bag.
She made it to her desk with six minutes to spare. As she began to unload her belongings for the day, the sound of sobbing reached her ears. Turning she saw Lila crying with her head down while Rhonda, Gerald, and Arnold tried to comfort her.
"Come now Lila darling it was just an awful prank," Rhonda said while rubbing her back as Lila sobbed.
Helga turned back to her materials. Whatever's going on over there with little miss perfect is none of my concern. At least that was the Helga thought until Arnold made his way to her desk.
"Helga," Arnold said getting her attention. It's seemed like forever since he had last spoken to her. Even though they were in the same class nobody really talked to Helga anymore. She became a fixture in the classes- to be seen but almost never heard.
"Yes Hair Boy," she answered quietly turning in her seat to give him her full attention.
"Hey Helga," he said smirking at the old nickname. She hasn't called me that in forever, he thought as nostalgia swept over him. Having suddenly remembered his reason for coming over, he continued his question, "Have you gotten one too?"
"Get what?" Helga asked blankly.
"An email," he said simply.
"Email?" Helga asked becoming more and more lost to the conversation at hand.
Gerald came over seeing that Arnold was getting nowhere with his line of questioning. "Yes email. Email from Phoebe." He said the last part quietly.
Helga looked down at her books. "I'm not up on all that stuff," she said quietly.
"You should check your email at least twice a day. It's in your best interest to be connected you know." Arnold said lecturing a tone.
"Little Helga wouldn't know about all that stuff would she," sneered Gerald, "I bet she doesn't even own a Novaa."
Ignoring Gerald, Helga turned in her seat to see a still crying Lila and Rhonda texting on her Peach Touch 7. "What's wrong with Lila?" she asked Arnold, "What's she blubbering about."
Gerald answered before him, "She crying about an email she got from Phoebe! Geez, why do you think we bother asking you about your email?"
"Phoebe?" Helga asked quietly.
"God woman why are you so behind? Phoebe killed herself a week ago in downtown Hillwood. She had six of our classes; not to mention she used to be your best friend-,"
"Gerald!" Arnold chastised.
"What! Anyway she took a short jump off a tall building; the teacher told everyone. Don't you remember?" Gerald finished condescendingly.
Arnold stepped in once more turning the conversation back to the question at hand. "Well Lila isn't the only one who's received mail from Phoebe either. A ton of other people have been getting email form her too."
"But isn't she dead," Helga inquired. She didn't understand, if Phoebe was dead how were people getting emails from her? None of this made sense.
"That why we shouldn't be getting email from her." Gerald said annoyed, "I don't remember her being this slow in grade school," he grumbled under his breath.
"It's probably just a sick prank," Arnold said ignoring Gerald.
Helga looked back at her books. You don't get mail from dead people. That just doesn't happen. It's impossible…right?
Class started soon after that but Helga was finding it hard to focus. They were supposed to be taking notes but every time Helga looked at the board the letters would fade and blur and become illegible until disappearing all together. She squinted her eyes trying to make the letter reappear but it soon became apparent that was not going to happen anytime soon. Instead Helga doodled on her paper making shapeless things and odd objects.
After some time Helga became fascinated with her hand. She turned it over and began to analyze and study it. She became so entranced and transfixed on her hand that the 'world' outside her hand became near nonexistent. All the sudden slits appeared in her finger tips and from those slits smoke arose. Distracted Helga watched as the smoke lifted into the air of the classroom and float around lazily.
…What is it like when you die, Helga thought to herself.
I bet it really hurts. A voice answered in her head. The voice sounded similar to her own only…different.
Who are you, Helga asked but the voice didn't answer back.
The day ended without any more talk of strange emails or dead people but the thoughts stayed with Helga. She decided to walk home so as to have more time to think about the conversation she had with Arnold and Gerald today.
Phoebe. Man I haven't thought about her in a while. Helga thought wistfully, we stopped talking completely when we hit middle school. Unlike me she kept in touch with most of the P.S.118 gang. Seemed happy… I wonder what caused her to commit suicide. Helga vaguely remembered the speech the teacher gave the week before the morning after phoebes death. I think I remember Lila and Rhonda both crying and Gerald going home early but nothing else. I don't even remember how I felt about it, she thought after a moment.
Reaching her stoop, she pulled out her key and unlocked the door to the Pataki residence. Not much has changed here either. Olga was still perfect, Miriam was still a drunk slob and Bob was still an asshole. Well now he was a successful asshole- which was worse than a regular one.
Bob was the first to back Novaa and Peach when they were just small times electronics companies. Now he owned more than half of each company and was rich enough to own Hillwood itself. The only reason they hadn't moved away from the neighborhood was to make the family 'humble'. That's not to say, however, that the family didn't indulge themselves. Olga only had the best cloths and shoes, Miriam got drunk off imported wine and vodka; the only one that didn't take advantage of the wealth was Helga. She just didn't care for much of anything; all she needed was something Hello Kitty and she was content.
Still thinking of the emails, Helga decided to check her own. When was the last time I checked my email, Helga asked herself, when was the last time I even used my Novaa?
Helga opened the door to her room and dropped her book bag on the floor next to her bed. She looked at her desk and saw her old computer. It was a pink and orange beginner Novaa. On tops of it lay a hello kitty eared hat. Pulling out her chair she sat and turned on the computer. While it booted up she place the hat on her head haphazardly and waited.
After a moment a trill sounded from the computer, signaling it was ready to be used.
Who is the user? The computer asked in a monotone voice. The login for all Novaas was voice activated, making it the leading electronic in security to date.
"Helga," she said simply as she typed in a for digit passcode after her name.
Voice accepted, Replied the computer. Greetings to user Helga! User Helga has new email.
"Who's it from?" Helga asked slightly surprised.
Phoebe Heyerdahl.