You know journal, I really do feel bad about what's all went down.

And it's NOT because of that football-headed dorkwad, either. In fact, I'm COMPLETELY over him. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have a clear head and I can focus on ME instead of him and his FEELINGS.

Or me and MY feelings…

But I don't HAVE any anymore, okay? At least not for Arnold.

That's right—you heard it here first, journal. Helga G. Pataki is OVER Arnold Shortman and onto greener, brighter pastures.

I'm in a band.

A real, live band that will PUMMEL Arnold's stupid trio in the next Battle of the Bands at the Fly Trap. He won't stand a CHANCE against us…

…that is if we ever figure out how to be a band that doesn't argue about everything every two seconds.

"Iggy, what gives? You're not keeping up with the beat of the freakin' song!" Sid hollered as he stopped playing his guitar; allowing it to rest around his neck while he turned around to glare in the drummer's direction.

"What do you mean I'm not keeping up," he argued while waving a drumstick in Sid's direction. "It's you who isn't following me."

"And why should I follow you when you have the beat all wrong? Huh?!" He countered.

Quietly leaning forward, Iggy said in an alarmingly calm voice, "Because I'm the drummer. The rest of the company follows the beat." His words were cool though behind his glasses, Helga could tell he was just about at his wits end. "That's what I do. I'm. the. Beat. Sid. Are we seriously fighting over this?"

Helga was quick to cut in with visible irritation. "You goons haven't even put into consideration the lyrics we have to add and newsflash—lyrics end up following all of the instruments."

"I reckon we don't have any lyrics yet, Helga—" Stinky attempted, though she shut him down.

"Criminy! Don't you think I know that?!" Letting out a loud groan, she inhaled sharply and proceeded.

"I'm almost done with them, alright? But we need a melody for the lyrics to go with and none of you are playing without arguing first!"

Determined to continue his point, Sid shot a finger in Iggy's direction. "How can I play if he won't focus on the beat!"

"How can I focus on the beat when you're playing syncopated to what I'm playing?!" Iggy argued.

"HA!" Sid shouted "I don't even know what that MEANS so—"

"It means you're off, shithead!"

"Hey, hey, hey, HEY!" Helga hollered above the commotion between the two boys. Silence filled the small garage space, three pairs of eyes turning to look the angry monobrowed teenager in her face that was nearly as pink as the streaks in her hair.

"Look," she started hesitantly despite her inner rage. "If we ever stand a chance against beating anyone more or less Arnold and his numbskull band, we have to work together, you got it? I mean, I didn't join this band to just be another loser… did you?"

Looking between one another, the three boys eyed Helga sheepishly and shook their heads while awaiting her next response.

Thinking for a moment, Helga knew she was going about this all wrong. It was then that a story Olga had told her the other night about her adventures in babysitting popped into her head.

"Each of the Pembrooke children were so smart, Helga. But so stubborn… just like another little girl I know," she explained with a coy smile; Helga rolling her eyes while focusing on chopping the celery she'd been forced to prepare for dinner.

"They all wanted to color the same picture, but with different colors and those sillies! They started to fight worse than cats and dogs!"

Deciding to play into the story her sister was telling, Helga forced overt interest. "Well golly, whatever did you do, Olga?"

Ignoring her sister's sarcastic tone, Olga merely answered without missing a beat. "I rounded up every one of the Pembrookes and sat them down around their dining room table and gave them each one color."

Smirking at the seemingly stupid idea, Helga muttered, "And what was that supposed to accomplish, exactly?"

"I gave all of them one section of the picture they could color with the marker they'd chosen. And you know what happened, Helga?"

Focusing on the celery, she replied, "Gee, I guess they… colored the picture?"

"Exactly!" Olga exclaimed happily. "And that picture was uniquely theirs because they worked as a team to complete it. And it was beautiful."

Of course, at the time, Olga went on to talk about how impressed the Pembrooke parents were and some sappy story about them mailing her the picture in a fancy frame with some handwritten letter, but that wasn't what Helga took away from the story.

She saw an opportunity.

"Stinky," she stated and turned to him while crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you remember that weird riff thing you were playing before Sid got here?"

Squinting his eyes in concentration though looking in no direction in particular, Stinky plucked a five-chord melody on the strings of his bass guitar. "What, this silly ditty?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Helga was quick to spit out before making a wild motion with her hands for him to continue. "Keep playing it, just like… keep repeating it until I tell you to stop."

Following orders, he did as told; bobbing his head minimally with the changes in notes that he played.

Listening for a moment with her eyes closed, her hand shot up to point in Iggy's direction. "Iggy" she called out, her eyes remaining shut to focus on the sounds around her, "gimme a beat. A good like… solid beat."

Like Stinky, Iggy did as instructed and commanded the floor with a powerful rhythm that matched perfectly in time with the notes Stinky played.

Looking back and forth between Stinky, and Iggy, Sid turned to face Helga with a blank expression. "And what am I supposed to do, huh? Stand here and look pretty?"

Letting out a smirk, Helga put her hands on her hips and muttered, "As if you could manage that," but from the look on Sid's face, she knew he wasn't in a humorous mood. Taking a deep breath, Helga pointed to the guitar hanging from his shoulders and neck. "Play something."

"You're kidding, right?" He replied with a furrow of his brows. "We haven't written anything! What the heck am I supposed to play?!"

"Criminy, Sid, do I have to do everything for you?" Helga exclaimed with her arms thrown into the air above her head. "Listen to the music for cripes sake. Listen to the beat that Iggy is playing; the notes that Stinky is repeating. It's like, it's like…. It's like coloring in the lines of a picture. They've given you the picture. So… color!"

Thinking on Helga's statement for a moment, Sid's fingers began to strum somewhat randomly with the strings on his guitar. Helga watched carefully as he closed his eyes and at long last—Sid was feeling it. His head bobbed and his fingers grew more confident in the notes they played that began to blend with the other sounds his bandmates were creating.

"Alright!" Helga said triumphantly while the band continued to play their various instruments. "Now all we need is the lyrics and we'll be set to crush anyone that gets in our way at that next battle of the bands."

"Maybe we should focus on open mic night first, Helga," Stinky offered hesitantly. "On a counta that's mighty sooner than the battle of the bands."

But thankfully, after some time and 'team building' or whatever you call it, the dopes started working together and you know what? The songs we started writing and working out weren't half bad. They have great potential for lyrical rhythm and using bigger words than whatever that lame Addie writes.

It's wild to think that I've become… EXCITED about something as trivial as BAND PRACTICE.

I love those crazy guys and they can keep up their shit with me just as good as anyone. We've even added Wolfgang into the mix as our 'roadie' and let me tell you—that guy can kick it with the best of them. Sometimes we share these dumb looks and faces across the room while he's working on an amp and I'm fiddling with a microphone or scribbling in my lyric notebook and I just…

It's like I forget the whole reason we started this band in the first place.

Not that I don't miss Arnold. I suppose a piece of me will ALWAYS miss him, even just his friendship, but I'm finding that with Sid, Stinky, Iggy, and even Wolfgang, life really CAN move on. They make me laugh—laugh in ways that I NEVER could with Arnold. They tell ridiculous jokes and curse and do the absolute STUPIDIST things like pants each other in the hallway while we're walking to gym class or stealing Sid's hat and playing catch with it outside after lunch.

It all sounds dumb and trivial when I write it down, but it's been propelling me forward. And I hope that one day… SOME day… I won't find myself searching for Arnold's stupid football-head in the crowd. Who knows who's head I'll be looking for by then.

A nobody's?

A somebody's?

Anyway, after our disastrous few first rehearsals, I finally feel like we have enough options that I'm prepared to show everybody my song lyrics. I'm a little stressed about it given my LAST disastrous exposition of my heart and soul in terms of Arnold and Gerald, but this group we have going—the Pearls of Wisdom—I think they'll appreciate them.

At least I hope so, seeing as I'll be with those goons in roughly one hour.

Yikes.

Until next time,

~Helga

"Here it is, everybody!" Helga announced while bursting into their band meeting at Iggy's dad's garage. Waving her notebook paper high in the air like a flag, Helga beamed from ear to ear. "This song is a guaranteed hit. Guaranteed a WIN, if I do say so myself. And I DO."

"Yeah, we heard," Sid chuckled out and quickly received a tight-eyed glare from Helga before she lowered her arm and held the paper close to her chest.

"Shut it, Bootsy," she replied before clearing her throat. "It's a great fit with the rhythm of 'Nameless Number 3' which shall henceforth be referred to as 'Seeping Through My Skin'."

The three boys exchanged a look with one another before returning their eyes to Helga. Speaking on behalf of the others, Iggy asked, "You don't think that's a little long for a song title?"

"Okay, but you haven't even heard the lyrics yet, dingus," Helga snarked back with a narrow of her eyes.

"And besides, are you completely unaware of the tom-foolery that took place with song titles back in the '00s? Now THOSE were long."

"Shit, give her a chance," Wolfgang commented from the other side of the room where he was wrapping wires into neat bundles for easy transferring. "Not like you jamokes have written a single word. Helga's the best in the biz."

Red flushed to the blonde's cheeks at the praise, though she was quick to shake it off and return to her mission. "Wolfgang's right—"

"But he's not even in the band!" Sid argued.

"You wanna find out if I'm in the band, short stop?" Wolfgang menaced while taking steps towards the boy who had practically crawled into himself.

"Everybody knock it off," Helga insisted with a roll of her eyes. "If we are ever going to be the band we know we are, we have to put in some work. Actual, work. And that means playing the song and listening to me sing it until we get it right."

"But that's just one song, Helga. I reckon we need a few more, don't we?" Stinky wondered.

"Well, doi we need more!" She shouted before exhaling loudly in an effort to compose herself. "That's why we need to stop arguing and wondering if the names are too long and just GO with it! Trust each other!"

At that, each member of Pearls of Witticism took their respective places with instruments in hand. Counting them in with 3 clicks of his drumsticks, Iggy began the rhythm that propelled the once Nameless Number 3 into what would be Helga's musical sensation.

You took me, took me, took me for a Grinch

When I gave you a mile, you met me with an inch

And I felt it, I felt it, permeate my flesh

Reaching in, and pulling out, you give less than you get, get, get!

Music surrounded Helga's angsty words and the band seemed to enjoy what she sang; at least enough to continue with the melody they'd worked on prior to her lyrical debut. Waiting her turn, Helga took the mic (which wasn't on) in her hand and held it up to her lips while imagining the lights from the Fly Trap illuminating her body.

If you wanted to control me, then you must be sorely pissed

But I've moved on, I've moved on, no time for your guilt

Hope these lyrics, this song, that was written with blind rage

Can evoke a certain sense in you that makes you act your age!

Helga's eyes shut and she felt the fluorescent light of the garage morph into the hot set lights of the stage. She could feel the energy of the crowd—the way they bumped and hollered at their angsty song. They were one with each other, all eyes on Helga at the front screaming her heart out.

Get it! Get it! Get under my skin!

I dare you to try, but you'll never really win!

Closing that wound with a match and a flame

You wanted your space now you've got no one to blame

The energy filled Helga's body; coursing through her veins as each word she sang matched the crowd's energy. She was mad, and they were mad, but it was a mad that was channeled with music she and her friends had slaved over. The time for them to pull off the finale was now, and Helga could feel the change in keys, knowing it was her cue.

Yeah, you're seeping, you're seeping, right under my skin

You're weeping, you're keeping yourself under my skin

But you're seeping, you're seeping, right under my skin

Try seeping, seeping, seeping…..

Seep through my skin.

Opening her eyes, Helga saw the throngs of students jumping and cheering for the song they'd performed. As she stood on the stage under those lights, the youngest Pataki couldn't help but remember when they'd first performed the song for nobody but Wolfgang in Iggy's garage.

Looking out to the crowd, Helga saw that—aside from the mass of bodies screaming her name—Wolfgang was alone in the back, arms crossed, smiling her way. Just as he had when she'd debuted her lyrics.

As they shared a look, nearby Arnold followed Helga's line of sight which landed on the childhood bully. Clenching his jaw, a light tug on his shirt brought the football-headed boy back to reality.

"Hey man," Gerald asked with slight concern. "You okay?"

Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, Arnold nodded his head and forced himself to look away from what he had once shared with the small-town celebrity on stage.

Affection.

"Yeah Gerald," Arnold told him with a shake of his head. "Yeah, I'm fine. You and Addie ready?"

Smirking, Gerald hitched a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Addie who was happily talking with Nadine amongst the crowd. "Ready as we're ever gonna be."

Despite Arnold's hesitance at approaching Helga, he did so anyway to tell her what his heart was screaming for him to say. "Helga!" He shouted out as she left the stage and her eyes shifted towards him with hesitance.

"Arnold" she stated without a lick of emotion and turned around to face him completely. "What do you want?"

Taken aback by her lack of usual admiration or hatred for him, Arnold smiled. "You guys sounded great up there. That song was awesome."

"Yeah, I know" she agreed with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "You really missed out when you kicked me out of your silly little band."

Frowning, Arnold let out a tired sigh. "I never kicked you out of the band, Helga-"

"That's right," Gerald announced while slugging an arm around his best friend's shoulder and inserting himself to their once private conversation. "But our lyrics are just as good if not better than yours are, Pataki."

Helga's lips upturned into a wicked smile, and she crossed her arms loosely over her chest. "For your sake Geraldo, I sure hope so."

"I reckon we're gonna win that battle of the bands in January with Helga's songs," Stinky added from where he was now standing with the rest of their band behind their blonde leader.

"Yeah! You guys don't stand a chance against US," Sid stated.

"Mm mm MM," Gerald hummed with a singular shake of his head. "You sound pretty confident for a bunch of amateur musicians."

"Riiiiiiight," Helga drew the word out. "Amateur musicians with catchy songs and an even catchier name. By the way... what was your band called again?"

Exchanging a glance, the boys returned their gaze to Helga before answering her simple question.

"Spatial Awareness" Gerald declared.

"The Invaders" Arnold said with an air of uncertainty.

Helga smirked as the two friends eyed one another in embarrassment. "Wow," she said in a sarcastic tone "sounds like you guys really have things figured out, don't you?"

"All we need to have figured out is what songs we're playing, Helga" Gerald insisted while crossing his own arms and narrowing his eyes in her direction. "Worry about yourself, huh?"

"What's there to worry about?" A friendly voice interrupted, and Helga rolled her eyes at the unwelcome addition to the conversation.

"Well, if it isn't the Adster," she said in a facetious tone. "Your boys here don't seem to remember your band's name."

Letting out a small laugh, Addie looked at her embarrassed bandmates before returning her eyes to Helga. "That's probably because they fought about it all afternoon."

"So, you don't even have a name?" The blonde pushed, though Addie didn't seem concerned.

"Not yet, no. We wanted it to be something funny but also representative of the three of us." A small frown tugged at her lips as her eyes drifted to the floor below her. "I'm sure we'll agree on something, but at this point we'll be going on without a name which is just... a little weird."

"A little?" Helga repeated with wide eyes. "You can't just go up there and say, 'Hi, we're three amigos and a keyboard. Listen to our-"

"That's it!" Addie exclaimed with excitement. "It's simple... Has that whole, ironic vibe going with it. Plus, it's exactly what we are. What do you guys think?"

Furrowing his brows, Gerald looked worriedly at his football-headed friend. "I don't know... it's kind of... simple, isn't it?"

"Isn't that part of the charm?" Addie questioned. "What do you think, Arnold? You were the one who said it should be uniquely our own."

Glaring in his direction, Arnold ignored Helga's stare and instead turned to look at Addie with a smile. "Well, I like the amigo thing."

"You've got to be kidding me..." Helga muttered under her breath; nobody hearing her verbal disbelief.

"Then it's settled!" Addie announced with a singular clap of her hands. "Thanks for the idea, Helga. Who knows if we ever would have had a name by the time we take the stage?" her slight laugh was met with awkward stares and shifting eyes. Noting the uncomfortable atmosphere, Nadine hooked an arm around her friend.

"Guess we'd better start unloading," she announced to give everyone a way out of the conversation. "We'll see you guys later. Killer set, Helga."

"I know," she replied under her breath in a low growl before shaking her head and pushing her way past her fellow bandmates and directly into the crowd.

"What an absolute waste of an interaction that was!" Helga muttered to herself through the bodies crowding the small area. "To think that I was with such a… such a… a talentless unimaginative HACK!" Pushing people to her sides, she found her way to the side stage where Wolfgang was gathering their gear an wrapping up cords of all kinds.

Completely oblivious to his presence, Helga continued venting to herself; pools of tears beginning to form at the base of her vision as she spoke. "My songs are so much better. For cripes sake, I've won AWARDS for my writing and yet somehow I'm not good enough for footballhead and his lame trio?"

Helga reached for her journal of lyrics that sat at the bottom of the stage, only to be met with another's hand beating her to it. Looking up, she met the blue eyes of her band's self-declared roadie.

"Someone's feathers seem a little ruffled," Wolfgang noted with a sarcastic smirk sitting on his lips.

Meeting him with a frown, Helga snatched the journal from his grip. "What gave you that impression?"

"The grumbling, mostly," he answered immediately with a singular nod. "Seems like that little dweeb friend of yours-"

"Arnold is not my friend," Helga insisted before Wolfgang could finish his statement.

Taking a deep breath, he continued in softer tone. "He really pissed you off, huh?"

Studying the boy's face for a moment, Helga fought internally whether she could trust the former bully standing before her. Memories of his childhood treachery clouded under his gaze and her mouth began to move before she could stop it from answering. "He broke my heart is what he did." Eyes growing wide, she quickly added, "I mean... well, he could have if I had a heart, you know?"

Her awkward laughter didn't faze the tall blonde as his eyes locked on Helga's. The speakers began to bump with the bass of the next band on the stage preparing for their set. Though Arnold and his band were slotted to follow, Helga couldn't focus on anything other than the extreme heat she felt in her cheeks and the tingling sensation pulsing through her body.

"Is that why you've been writing so much?" He asked with a small gesture towards the journal she held.

He noticed me writing? Helga wondered; trying desperately to figure out when he could have watched her scrawling words on the pages of songs nobody knew she had started. Opting to scoff at his question and pick up one of the wrapped cords left behind by Sid, Helga replied "Like you care what I do or why I do it" before turning around to make her way towards the trunk of Wolfgang's beat-up van.

Following her out the door into the cool air of night, Wolfgang jogged to keep up with the girl he couldn't help but be intrigued by. Whatever secrets she hid were close to her chest and for the first time in his life, Wolfgang wanted to know about somebody else's troubles.

The instant connection had always confounded him, but as he caught up to her side, he found that he didn't care anymore. There was something about the yellow-haired girl and the scowl she wore.

"What if I said I did?" He huffed out while keeping his pace at Helga's side. "Care, that is."

Glancing in his direction, Helga let out a laugh before returning her focus to her destination ahead; her three bandmates gathered in a gaggle of testosterone-induced showmanship.

"I dunno," she shrugged with both her notebook of lyrics and other miscellaneous band equipment still in hand. "I guess I'd wanna know why you suddenly give a shit about me and my feelings."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Wolfgang stopped in his tracks with a frown.

Stopping at his side, Helga turned to face him directly. "Suffer too many concussions in sports, did we?" She retorted, though his expression merely looked confused at her comment. "You were a dick to me growing up, to all of my friends including those numbskulls I now call my bandmates. You practically tortured us when we were kids... or did you conveniently forget that part?"

At his lack of answer, she rolled her eyes and continued her way towards the van – Sid, Stinky, and Iggy already seated inside waiting for Wolfgang to drive them home.

"You don't think people can change?"

Helga froze at where she stood by the trunk and considered his words carefully.

A sense of dread began to build in her body. Guilt sat itself on her shoulders and the weight nearly caused her to collapse on the dusty ground of the parking lot.

Wolfgang was right.

Over the years, Helga had witnessed change firsthand – in her Olga, in her mother, in Arnold... in herself. Who was she if she didn't allow herself to forgive the figment of her past for his trivial wrongdoings when they were so much older now? Who was she if she didn't give Wolfgang the chance to prove himself? Who was she to judge him on who he was when he could be a completely different person now?

A hypocrite.

Letting out the deep breath she didn't realize she'd been holding; Helga sighed and dropped her journal and equipment onto the floor of the trunk. In an effortless spin, she turned around to meet the pair of blue eyes staring her way. "Keep talking," she stated while crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

Taking two steps towards her, Wolfgang's face softened with each word he spoke. "You think I didn't notice you, that angry girl with the stupid pink bow. But I did. And I do."

"You thought my bow was stupid?" Helga murmured, though Wolfgang merely continued as though she'd said nothing.

"There's a spark in you, a fire that doesn't need some damp football-headed runt to smother out." Taking a few more steps, Wolfgang was suddenly towering over Helga; something she was not accustomed to but was a welcomed change of pace for the tall and gangly teen. "What you need is someone that burns just as brightly as you do. Someone who won't slow you down."

Helga found her mouth suddenly dry, and she attempted a large swallow that might help her find words she could say in response. But for once in her life, Helga G. Pataki was speechless.

Wolfgang took her silence as an opportunity to reach out and tuck a loose strand of hair up into the band of her grey beanie. "But what do I know?" he smirked while dropping his hand from Helga's face to his side. "I'm just the roadie."

With that, he left her behind the van to catch her breath from the encounter. Something inside of her had ignited – had it been the fire Wolfgang had talked about? The ride home in his van was filled with mindless chatter and a tension Helga had never felt before. Even with Arnold, she hadn't felt such electricity in the air without so much as a single touch to conduct such a reaction.

The moment she made it home, Helga scurried up the stairs – ignoring her sister's greeting from where she sat with her mother on the couch – and flopped onto her bed. Reaching under her mattress, she retrieved the journal Olga had recently given her as a replacement and began scribbling her feelings as fast as she could identify them.

Something is wrong with me. Something... I'm having a hard time describing.

For my entire LIFE practically, my heart has been fixated on Arnold Shortman. His cornflower hair. The hilts in his voice. The gentle brush of his skin against mine.

I've spent SO LONG loving him that... I'm not sure I know what it's like to like another human being in that way. Since pre-school, I've been in love with only one person, so deeply, so passionately, that I guess I've never understood what a simple crush was or how... exhilarating it could feel.

This is so stupid. I can't have a crush on Wolfgang.

Although... it would make a little sense... wouldn't it?

I mean, for cripes sake, the both of us were absolute NIGHTMARES growing up. We demolished anyone and everyone who got in our way and that fire... well... after tonight I feel like I'm burning up from the inside out.

You know journal, the more I think about it, the more I'm realizing just how WRONG Arnold was for me.

I need someone who isn't afraid of life. Someone who knows when to fight for what they want. Why have a bucket of water when you can have a lighted match that's ready to burn for you?

Burn for me.

Helga paused in her writing to study the three words she had written on the solitary line. Chewing her lip for a moment, she touched her pen to the paper once more.

The wick on my candle sits dampened

Alone in a forgotten drawer

But at last, it's been lighted

A fire reignited

The spark I've been searching for.

Papers are stained with one name

Each line and every space have been filled

The letters now haunt me

They tempt and they taunt me

My memories of you must be killed.

When you left, I forgot who I was

Blinded by love, I had been led astray

My confidence was shaken

But I was mistaken

Should have known this would happen one day.

I shall burn those reminders of love

Tear my journals and diaries apart

Destroy my hidden stashes

I'll bury those ashes

Let a new flame illuminate my heart.

In one swift movement, Helga closed her journal and rolled over to lay on her back. She fixated on the dots that decorated the drywall ceiling and she imagined for a moment what life might be like with someone other than Arnold P. Shortman.

Across town lying on his own bed, Arnold stared up at the stars shining through the glass of his skylight. He replayed his interaction with Helga repeatedly; rewinding it to play on an endless loop inside his head until he had tired himself out.

I should have said more, his thoughts screamed. Why didn't I talk to her more? Silently he made a list of all the things he could have said, should have said to the girl his heartstrings still clung to. Despite their messy breakup, Arnold couldn't help but miss having someone at his side... someone other than Gerald or his parents to talk to.

In an instant, he sat up from his bed and looked over to where his cellphone sat in its cubby on the wall. "I... I couldn't do that to her," he mumbled to himself, though his fingers itched at his side to call the one person he knew would drive Helga insane should they become any closer then they already were.

A flash of anger flitted through his football-shaped head just then, and pushing his reservations aside, Arnold grabbed his cellphone and quickly found the name he was looking for.

Calling Addie Reeves... the screen read, and for a moment the boy hoped and prayed his call wouldn't be answered.

"Hey Arnold!" Her perky voice spoke through the phone. "What's up?"

I should hang up, he thought before shaking his head in response to himself. Taking a deep breath, Arnold closed his eyes and spoke. "Nothing really. I guess I just wanted someone to talk to."

A/N (tl;dr life has been crazy and I'm sorry I haven't been able to write or upload. I'm trying my best)

Thank you everyone for being so patient and understanding with this long break I have taken despite my best intentions. At the end of August, my partner of 7 years, my wife, left me. I was also fired from my job at the theatre teaching dance due to my coping choices, and I had to move out of my apartment and in with my mother and I ended up in a car crash that totaled my car completely so I am currently without transportation. As a result, I had no inspiration to write and instead drowned myself in alcoholism a la Miriam Pataki. Anyway, I don't think I can commit to specific dates for posting, but I AM NOT GIVING UP ON THIS STORY! I have great plans and now that I have a good enough handle on life, I am trying to get back to the joys of writing.

Anyway, please leave me a review - I could really use some feedback. I hope you enjoy this chapter! And don't worry Shortaki fans, our kiddos will get back together eventually... ;)

-Polka