Bleeding Hearts

Part Three: How to Say it

It was so close to Halloween, and that's the one night when spells are said to hold the most power. The gut wrenching feeling didn't leave Arnold after he'd reached the boarding house. It'd prevented him from eating dinner and even stopped him from playing with Abner. He finally got desperate enough to ask his grandpa for advice.

"I've got the same problem with raspberries," his Grandpa had said.

This, of course, hadn't helped poor Arnold at all. If he didn't feel any better by tomorrow, he was going to the doctor. So for the remainder of the night Arnold lay on his bed staring up at the starry sky through the skylight. It was really a beautiful night.

So beautiful in fact, that it reminded him of someone. No, not Lila, not even Ruth. The stars twinkled in the navy sky, faint glows of periwinkle surrounding them. Light blue, now that reminded him of someone too.

A shooting star flew across the sky and disappeared into space. The tail had whipped around like…like a ribbon in the breeze. Now who did THAT remind him of?

His eyes shifted over to the pale moon. It was glowing brightly and had a magnificent air of mystery to it. So far away, untouchable, yet intriguing in every way. Okay, he was DEFINITELY reminded of someone. But who?

Who was this tempting beauty that haunted his thoughts tonight? This strange enticing enigma whose unknown identity threatened to rip his soul apart? She was someone he knew. He'd known her for a long time. But who was she? Why did her every feature hang in his memory while her name escaped him?

That was it! If he couldn't place her name in his mind, he'd write down her face and grace in words.

Arnold got up and marched determinedly over to his desk. He took out a sheet of notebook paper and a pencil. Putting all his heart and soul into what his mind was thinking he started writing passionately---about a girl who'd cast a spell over his heart.

******

The next day in class Mr. Simmons found a mysterious poem on his desk. A love poem. Thinking it was Helga Pataki's he snatched it up and eagerly began to read it. But something was different about this poem. The handwriting for one thing and the poet's word usage for another. It almost sounded like the poet was pouring their heart out, over a girl?

Interesting…Mr. Simmons thought to himself as the bell rang and students filed in through the door.

He'd already made up his mind to read the poem to the class before the last student had reached their desk.

"Class," he began in his usual, enthusiastic tone, "I have a very special treat for all of you today."

"Alright!" Harold shouted, remembering that Halloween was just a day away, "CANDY!"

"No Harold," Mr. Simmons sighed, "it's not candy."

"Aww." Harold whined.

"It's a poem." their teacher happily exclaimed, "A love poem in fact. Only, I think we have TWO anonymous poets in this class because this poem isn't signed either and I'm quite sure it's of a different style."

"Ah just read it already," Harold groaned in disappointment.

Eyeing Harold for a moment Mr. Simmons cleared his throat and started reading the poem to the class.

"Of a Love Unknown

I try to hide my bleeding heart

Even from myself.

And I'd die to hang my feelings high

Up upon the shelf.

But alas! My love, my night angel

Haunting my childhood dreams.

Can soul mates truly meet so young

Or is nothing what it seems?

The stars shine above

Do you gaze at them too?

I close my eyes and then

In my dreams behold you.

Gentle voice soft skin

Hair like shimmering gold.

Eyes pale blue and pure

A will so strong and bold.

Are you love's fantasy

Sweet dream in the night?

No, I've seen that smile before

There's a memory you ignite.

Oh name that evades me

Come clear and make me whole.

Dear love that I long for

Better half to my soul.

Reveal love's mystery

Restore this flame.

End my misery

Speak your name."

The class was in awe. But no one was more shocked than--you guessed it--Helga.

Her jaw was inches from the floor. Her eyes ready to bug out of her head. Somehow that cheap spell had worked! Those HAD to be Arnold's words. No other guy in that class, not even Gerald, had such a way with words.

Oddly enough, only Helga seemed to know who the mysterious poet was. Arnold sat in his desk fidgeting around uncomfortably (at least it wasn't Helga doing that for once). He wanted to shrink down, to become invisible. It felt as though every pair of eyes in that classroom were on him. In truth, it was only one. The weight of Helga's stare bore down on his heart like a thousand pounds of Mr. Nutty bars. He didn't dare turn around to see who was staring at him though, he was afraid he'd meet everyone's gaze.

Why on Earth had he left that poem on Mr. Simmons' desk anyway?! Did he want this embarrassment? How weird was that? No, deep down he'd secretly been hoping that the girl he longed to identify would be sitting in class and confront him. Then, at least, he'd know who was tugging at his heart. She HAD to know who she was, didn't she?

Helga couldn't believe her luck. After all the lies, the cover ups, and the taking it backs Arnold FINALLY knew how she felt about him, so what if he didn't know it was her he was feeling that way about. He'd said--well, written--the words that she'd so longed to hear. Now what?

"Will he figure this out on his own?" she wondered quietly, "Or do I have to tell him? Maybe this spell takes time to run its course?"

Helga decided to wait and see. Maybe it would dawn on Arnold that it was her that he truly loved. Helga G. Pataki, his personal childhood tormentor, and secret childhood crush. How would Arnold feel? Finally discovering that his bully and the love of his life were one in the same. Only time would tell. And Helga had a feeling that time would tell a lot.

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*So, will Football Head ever figure out that it's Helga he's longing for? Or will she have to SPELL it out for him, lol? Review and I'll post quicker, promise! Oh, and I wrote that poem myself, lol. ^_^*