Letters to a Young Poetess

by Kaelanti

Prologue

"The Letter That Started It All"

The day began as every other day did for Helga. She woke before Miriam remembered to call upstairs and dove into her closet for a brief glimpse of her shrine and a few penned words before school. School itself drug on in one of those happy mixes of boredom and pleasure that it always was, but eventually, it also ended. On the bus ride, where she and Phoebe were situated just a seat ahead of Arnold, but on the other side, so that when she turned to talk to Phoebe, she could easily also watch Arnold out of the corner of her eye, there were no portentous signs or special hints of what awaited her later that night.

She arrived home with no fanfare, dropping her knapsack beside the stairs and rooting through the kitchen for a snack before heading upstairs. Food was placed on her desk beside the computer, and she dove into her English assignment first. As long as she was able to answer 'yes' whenever Big Bob or Miriam asked if she'd done her homework, they didn't really care if she spent the rest of the evening outside with the neighborhood kids. And though she wasn't averse to lying to them, somehow, that particular lie always came back to bite her in the end. So she'd developed the simple habit of rushing through her homework so that she could go play.

But today, for some reason, homework was taking longer than usual. Her pen lingered over her notebook at the latest creative writing assignment Mr. Simmons had given them, and though she wrote slowly, she was only halfway done when she heard the front door open, and Big Bob call out. "Hey Miriam! I'm home, and we've got a letter from Olga!" The words carried clearly up to Helga in her room, and she let out a frustrated groan as she looked over at the door.

Olga, her beloved elder sister, who'd finally finished teaching those fools up in Alaska only to secure another assistant teacher's position at a special boarding school across the country. Olga, whose attempts to bond with Helga were always woefully inadequate and pathetic, and whose shining star example had ensured that Big Bob and Miriam just couldn't look at her – at Helga – with any sort of pride in their eyes. Olga was definitely the bane of Helga's young life, and hearing that there was a letter waiting for them, which would no doubt be read over dinner, was just... sickening.

Still, Helga sighed and closed her notebook, placing the pen atop it before heading for the stairs. Best to get it over with, and then maybe she could lie to her parents and go have some fun with the guys before it was time for bed. She could always work on the writing assignment later that night, or tomorrow morning, after all.

***

"She says the boarding school's a wonderful place," Bob was saying, looking at the letter in one hand as the other loaded his plate down with a mound of mashed potatoes. The food was unerringly on target, but Helga just rolled her eyes and started loading up her own plate. Round steak, potatoes, green beans with bits of bacon, and a large glass of milk were what awaited her, and the only real focus for her attention other than the letter that Bob was reading even now. She'd intended to eat her dinner and slink away before she could hear what her oh-so-beloved older sister had to say, but Bob had foregone Wheel for it. She was stuck.

Bob continued to comment on bits randomly, and Helga continued to do her best to tune him out. It wasn't a perfect attempt, but it was the best she could manage... right up until she froze, her eyes shooting up to stare at him in shock. "Say that again?" she demanded, the words sharp on her tongue, and cracking just a little. "What was that?" Narrowed eyes stared at him as Bob looked down at his youngest daughter in consideration.

"She said that she thought it was the perfect environment for you. Teach you some grace and charm and get a chance to spend some time together," he said thoughtfully, jaw jutting forward just a touch as his head slowly began to nod to the idea. "She's staff; we'd get a discount," he added, nodding a little more.

Helga swallowed, willing the words to be taken back. Big Bob hates spending money, she thought wildly. He'd never be willing to pick up the check for something like this... Unconsciously, her hands began to twist the napkin in her lap into something that half resembled a croissant. Her body felt frozen, back stiffly upright and muscles tensed to flee the table. But she held still, torn between running from the insanity of it and staying to hear, so that her imagination didn't go wild. It was like a train wreck, something so horrific you couldn't walk away from it.

"I think my girl's got an idea there," Big Bob said after a moment, nodding as pride leaked into his voice. Pride for Olga and her ideas, but no pride for Helga, who simply sat dumbfounded while he continued. "Yeah, sounds like just the place you need. And she says she can get you in next week so we don't have to wait a whole year for it. That settles it. I'll go call her after dinner and make arrangements for your uniform and stuff."

Move! she willed her legs, and after several long seconds, they finally did. She jerked up from the table, her rise knocking down the chair she'd been sitting on. And then she turned and ran for the front door. As she fumbled with the knob, she could hear Big Bob's voice one final time as he spoke to Miriam. "Do the girl some good... give her some structure." And then the door was slamming behind her and Helga was out in the fresh air. She tore down the street, paying no real attention to where she was going. And when she finally came to a stop, she found herself in the alley below Arnold's window, staring up at the darkened glass, shaken.

Oh Arnold, my love, she thought to herself, as one hand reached up to grab the lowest rung of the fire escape. She scrambled up nimbly, feeling metal roughened with age beneath her palms. Beauteous prince, it cannot be so. Can Big Bob really tear me from your side so easily? What will this mean for us, who are separated so cruelly by fate?

As she set foot on the landing just outside his room, she paused for a long minute. He would notice her out there, would question why she was sitting down on the unforgiving grating that formed its base. He would send her home, but right at that moment, she wanted nothing of the kind. And so she scrambled higher, slipping in through the skylight above his bed and looking around the room. There was a moment of long panic as she considered her options, and then she was reaching for his phone. She dialed Phoebe's number, waiting for the girl to answer. There were questions in that soft, high-pitched voice, but Helga didn't answer a one. "Hey Pheebs. Just... call my parents and tell them I'm staying over at your place tonight, and I'm not coming home." She'd barely heard the girl's acceptance of the task before Helga was hanging up and looking around the room once more before making her way to his closet. She grabbed the spare pillow tossed near there and the blanket from the couch, and ducked inside, making herself comfortable while Arnold was still out.

It wasn't until Arnold returned, collapsing tiredly in bed with a grin on his face, that the tears finally began. Silent tears for my silent love, Helga whispered to herself, and cried herself to sleep.