Hey Diary-

Maybe I need to write this out. Maybe it'll sound…I don't know, less incredible if I write it out.

Today was just…I don't know. Hence the writing. Mr. Carpenter always says we can figure out things if we see them on paper. Or in modern days, the computer. I am not about to start writing in an actual diary. Although my dad did…

I'm stalling.

It started with me ducking into the auditorium to escape Gerald.

I'm a horrible friend but recently Gerald and Phoebe have been…grating my nerves. Not that I dislike Phoebe, not at all. She is a great person and really smart and the only other person willing to put up with Gerald. No, I love Phoebe and she and Gerald are perfect for each other.

It's the PDA.

Not that I begrudge them their happiness…oh God, I sound like a horrible person. I'm not, I swear! But seeing them in the halls, and the park, and the cafeteria and just about anywhere and they're attached at the hip.

Truth be told, I miss my best friend. I never get alone time with him anymore.

I still sound like a horrible person.

Back to the story. I saw them coming down the hall after fourth period, we have lunch together, but seeing him with his arm around her shoulder and the two of them leaning in, talking about…I have no idea and this feeling just came over me. Like I was going to throw up or kick a locker. It was a combination of nausea and anger.

This isn't getting any better. I sound like the worst friend ever. This might have been a horrible idea.

Anyway, I ducked into the auditorium to just, I don't know, hide out. I brought my lunch, maybe I could hide in the darkness and eat in there, enjoy the silence. The auditorium was dark enough. The only light was on the stage.

I was completely alone.

Or so I thought.

I'd just dropped my lunch bag on the chair next to me and popped my soda when the music came up. I about jumped out of my seat, I'd thought I was alone. The music was classical, almost like chamber music or something you'd hear in a church.

Then the singing started. Clear, beautiful, in a completely different language. But the tone gave me goosebumps. The singing style reminded me of when we went to see Carmen in fourth grade. Only there was more passion in it.

Pie Jesu, pie Jesu, pie Jesu, pie Jesu

Qui tollis peccata mundi

Dona eis requiem, dona eis requiem

The person singing stepped out onto the stage and I almost dropped my soda can.

It was Helga.

Her blond hair was in a low ponytail and she was still wearing jeans and the oversized pink and black flannel shirt I saw her into his morning. Which I don't know why I expected to see her in a different outfit, but that voice…

She needed to be in white linen, her hair loose and cascading over her shoulders like spun gold. She needed to be singing to hundreds of people all wearing diamonds sparkling like prisms when they moved surrounding her on stage in a symphony of colors.

Sempiternam

Dona eis requiem

Sempiternam

Requiem

Sempiternam

She held the last note, letting it fade away with the music and I realized I was crying.

Not sobbing like a baby crying but there were tears in my eyes. Helga's singing had moved me to tears. In a good way.

I grabbed the remainder of my lunch, shoving it all back into my lunch bag as she turned around and spoke to someone just off stage. I stumbled out of the seat and hurried down the aisle towards the stage. I had to talk to her.

I had no idea what I was going to say but I had to say something.

She turned back around to face the seats when I finally stumbled into the light of the stage. I probably looked ridiculous, wide eyed and stumbling over my lunchbag and my feet in my hurry to reach her. She gave me a look, one I was used to seeing; like she didn't expect me and was suddenly caught without a script.

And as usual, she recovered quickly.

"What are you doing here football head?"

"I didn't know you could sing."

Yes. Those words actually came out of my mouth. Because apparently I forgot how to sound like an actual almost adult and resorted to speaking the obvious.

I expected a smart remark, or a scoff or something. I didn't expect her to look embarrassed.

She blushed,

Helga Pataki doesn't blush. She just doesn't. It doesn't happen.

But there she was; on stage, blushing, and rubbing her arm in that way I've noticed she does when she's nervous.

"It was beautiful."

That sounded a bit more adult.

"Like really beautiful. I got goosebumps. And tears."

I could have smacked myself in the face. I just admitted to Helga that I cried. That was like an open invitation for her to announce that all over the entire school body. Yes, I need the humiliation. Please, why don't I just walk out in public in bunny pajamas again.

I braced myself, actually braced myself for the inevitable. Any minute now.

"Don't tell anyone."

Was NOT what I was expecting to hear her say. Although, to be fair, things coming out of Helga Pataki's mouth that I wasn't expecting was suddenly my new normal.

"Huh?"

Yep. Back to intelligent conversation.

"Don't tell anyone. About this. I gotta reputation to protect."

THAT sounded more like Helga.

I nodded.

"I won't. But…do you mind if I stay and listen to you?"

Before she could say anything, the bell rang, signaling class room changes for this period's lunch. Thirty minutes had passed and I hadn't even known.

"You have a class. Sorry bucko."

It was worth a shot. Picking up my lunch bag, I get ready to make the trek to my Art history class.

"See you around, Helga."

"Hey Arnold."

I turned back and her nervous habit was back.

"Um…If you get bored, I'll be in here for the next week or two practicing. But don't you dare tell Geraldo or anyone else for that matter or I'll pound you."

I grinned. Like a complete knucklehead.

"I promise. Thanks."

I headed to my class still grinning.

And that's it. My day.

The girl I have a crush on sings like an angel and I sound like a complete child when I try to talk to her.

So where's this great wisdom you're supposed to dispense? What am I supposed to see in here that I'll somehow figure ou

Waitaminute

What the hell did I just write? Hold on.

I have a crush on Helga.

My fingers wrote that I have a crush on Helga.

My brain made my fingers write that I have a crush on Helga.

I don't have a crush on Helga. Do I? That's silly. Isn't it?

I'm going to have to reread this tomorrow. After I think long and hard on what it seems my subconscious is telling me.

So.

Until tomorrow.

A


AN: The song is "Pie Jesu" The one that inspired this fic was sung by Sarah Brightman. It's beautiful, seriously, go listen to it.