A/N: Hello everyone. This chapter doesn't need a warning because everything in it is pretty safe. This chapter isn't all that exciting, because it's a set-up chapter for next chapter, but I promise next chapter is boss.

So please, read my pretties, read!

Disclaimer: I do not own HA!

Helga had not been okay to walk home. It had been late, and cold, and rainy. Every time she heard a noise she had jumped almost out of her skin. But she had arrived safely, regardless of her brain telling her something would otherwise surely happen.

But it hadn't, and now, it was just another stereotypical day at Winston high school. Helga tugged at the blue uniform impatiently as her English teacher called the roll. She hated it; it was almost as though it had been designed by paedophile of the year. The skirt was too short, the shirt too low, and the socks high as though she was a stereotypical porn-star schoolgirl. A lot of the girls hated it, but the girls like Rhonda thought it was the best uniform in town. The boys had it alright, until it came to swimming season and their bathers were nothing but speedos.

E-yuck.

After the Ryan incident, Helga hated the uniform more than ever. She hated the way seniors, juniors, even some of the boys in her year stared at her, and whenever she saw them she could see Ryan's face, leering down at her as he bought her yet another drink.

Apart from the occasional reminder about what had happened, Helga could barely remember a thing. She had awoken the next morning in her bed (how she had gotten there was a mystery if there ever was one) and if it weren't for the pain she had felt in her loins she could possibly have convinced herself it was nothing more than a bad dream.

Helga shook her head to clear it. She was in English, and she liked English. She excelled in everything she did, she was second only to Phoebe in the years ranking, but English was by far her favourite.

Only problem was, she was all out of creative genius. She used to be able to pull a story or poem out of the air like that, and now whenever she put pen to paper she just found nothing would come.

Luckily, it was all essay writing for the moment anyway, and while Helga struggled to keep her mind focused these days anyway at least Essay writing was completely impersonal.

After class, Helga's teacher, Miss Fenwagon, called her to the front.

"What's up, Miss?" Helga tried to greet cheerfully, and Miss Fenwagon sighed.

"Well Helga, I noticed things haven't been as cheerful for you lately, and I just wanted to see if everything is okay," she said politely, and Helga gulped. First Arnold, now her teachers? She would have to act harder.

"Well, sure Miss, everything is fine," she lied, and, considering, decided to elaborate so as not to seem too obvious. "It's just that I feel like I can't be creative anymore, it's like I've forgotten how to write anything good. And I know we're doing essays, but writing always helped me think, and what if I haven't bounced back by exam time?" Helga said, throwing her hands in the air to show exasperation. Miss Fenwagon leant back in her chair, seeming to consider Helga's words for a moment for responding.

"Well, Helga, it's no secret that you're the best there is when it comes to poetry and creative writing, and we do have a poetry segment coming up in a few months, so I can understand your concern. But I think I know what I can do to help," she said, before rummaging through her desk. Helga rolled her eyes. She hadn't lied- she couldn't write anything good anymore, but she didn't care that much. She barely cared about anything anymore. She just wanted to feel safe for once.

"Here," Miss Fenwagon finally said, pulling out a blue spiral book, "take this. I've seen you write in pink books from time to time, no doubt they're like a diary, yes?" she asked, and Helga nodded uncomfortably. Whaaaaaat… "Well, this is like a diary too, only it's your Creative Diary. I want you to write in it every day. Whenever something that is bothering you comes to mind, write it down. Whenever you have a fond memory, write that down too. Write down everything that comes into your head, expressions of anger, of hate, you'll be surprised how quickly it fills up. You don't have to write anything in verse, you don't have to paraphrase or anything. I don't have to read it if you don't want me too, but I want you to write in it. The best pieces of writing always come from writing what you know," Miss Fenwagon said, and Helga looked down at the book. She guessed it couldn't hurt to do as she was told.

"Okay Miss, I'll do that, thanks," she smiled, and began to leave the classroom.

"Oh, and Helga?"

"Yeah Miss?"

"Call me Rose,"

Helga looked back at Rose with surprise, smiled awkwardly, and headed out for lunch. She had barely made it ten steps down the corridor when a senior boy crashed into her.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" Helga snapped as the tall, brown-haired man had bumped into her, spilling her drink all down her dress.

"Yikes! I'm so sorry, I'm so clumsy. Here, let me help you clean it up," the man had said, pulling a napkin off the nearby counter and dabbing at her dress. "I feel bad, getting such a nice dress wet. And on such a pretty lady, too. Can I at least buy you a new drink to make up for it?" he asked politely, and Helga looked into his eyes. He seemed like a nice enough guy, tall, handsome, clearly in college, exactly what she was looking for.

"Well… sure, I guess," Helga finally agreed, smiling, and he beamed warmly at her, extending a hand.

"My name is Ryan, it's so nice to meet you,"

Helga shook her head to clear the memory out of her mind. Across from her was the senior boy who had also fallen to the ground upon impact.

"Sorry, you okay?" he asked her, and she nodded, gathering her books and scrambling from the room. She found refuge outside, and she opened the blue book curiously. It was empty, of course, but she wasn't sure what to put inside. She and Dr Bliss had ended their sessions two years ago when Helga's antisocial behaviour had subsided finally to normal. When she had left, she had told Helga to keep writing diary's every day to help organise her thoughts. Usually, Helga's only thoughts were about Arnold, and so that's what riddled her diary. But now, she was bombarded with something else.

She decided, then and there, to do what Rose had said and use both pink and blue books. She would use the pink one for Arnold, as she always did, and the blue one for Ryan. If it helped organise her thoughts, helped her move on, even, it was worth it.

A little scared, she put the pen on the page and started writing.

Ryan.

I don't even know if that's his fucking name.

What the hell were you thinking, Helga? Were you trying to be grown up? What did you expect to happen? Okay, not that, I know you didn't expect that, but you did expect something similar. You went out with the intention of getting drunk and you had done that. Why did you have to let yourself get carried away with that stupid fucking Ryan!

Look at you. You can't do anything now. You need time to heal, old girl, I know that, but crimmeny, something needs to happen fast. You can't keep bumping into seniors in the hallway and panicking at the memories he left. You have to pull yourself out.

Come on, Helga G. Pataki. Bring yourself to life.

Helga stared at the page. Holy crap, that was more than she had ever even thought about the situation. She didn't feel better, but she also didn't feel worse.

"Hey Helga,"

Helga snapped the book closed in record timing, before looking up to see Phoebe, Rhonda and Nadine take a seat next to her.

"What'cha writing in? A diary?" Rhonda almost teased, and Helga rolled her eyes, shoving her book into her backpack.

"It's just something Miss Fenwagon gave me. Personal stuff, you know," she blubbered, before turning to Phoebe. "Gerald asked you out yet?" she asked, desperate to change the subject, and Phoebe shook her head.

"Well, no. I wish he would, but I'm starting to think it'll never happen," Phoebe murmered, and Rhonda laughed loudly.

"Oh, he is so into you though Phoebe. Know what needs to happen? We just need to throw a party so he can see you in a non-school situation. Then he'll be able to see how fun you are! Besides, it's a great opportunity for me to wear my new outfit!" she exclaimed excitedly, and Phoebe shook her head.

"Oh, I don't know that I'm all too much fun, Rhonda. And besides, if he wants to ask me out, he will," she said chirpily enough, and Helga smiled sadly at her best friend. Gerald and Phoebe were clearly into each other, but every other girl in the school also seemed to be into Gerald, who, upon becoming champion of the Basketball team, could get any girl he wanted, it seemed. Helga put a comforting hand on Phoebes shoulder.

"Don't worry Phoebe, Rhonda's right, he does like you too. I can tell by the way he looks at you," Helga tried to comfort, but Phoebe just shrugged.

"Maybe…"

"So a party it is?" Rhonda said impatiently, and Phoebe shrugged. "If you want too, Rhonda, but don't do it just for me,"

"Of course it's not just for you. It's just a good opportunity for you. You girls will all come, right?" Rhonda asked, pulling out her pink notepad and making a list of names.

"And we'll need Gerald, and I suppose we should invite Harold- gosh, he's sure thinned out, hasn't he? He looks just ravishing. Anyway, Sid and Stinky, Sheena, who else?" she asked, and they all started prattling off names about who should attend such an awesome party. The list grew and grew with both Nadine and Rhonda's lists- Nadine had made friends with a lot of science nerds in the year above them, and Rhonda knew both men and women from the year above her who thought she was just as interesting as them with her taste in fashion. The list grew to about thirty before Rhonda put down her pen.

"Anyone else?" she wondered, and Helga pondered to herself. Maybe a party would be good for her, help get her mind off things, cheer her up a little. And she knew who she wanted there if she was going.

"…Arnold?"

"Oh, of course Arnold! I forgot all about him, he's on the list too," she said, clicking the pen back on and writing down his name at the end of the list. "Alright. I think Friday week my parents are going out of town, so I'll start getting the word around tomorrow. Now, listen, ladies," Rhonda said, leaning in. "My friends are all a little older… and I know Nadine's friends are too, but, well, you know, anyway, they'll probably want to drink alcohol, and I'M not going to be the one to stop them, in fact, I might even join them," she said matter-of-factly. "And you girls are more than welcome to do so too. Because we're only fifteen, I know your parents won't buy you alcohol, so does anyone have any ideas? My friends will probably buy me my own, but you'll have to sort yourselves out," she finished, before leaning back and looking at her nails. Helga hated how self-important Rhonda was, she always had, but over the years, thanks to Dr Bliss's help she found she could stand her and would maybe even call her a good friend- not that she could ever trust her secrets, Ryan or Arnold, with her.

"Oh, gosh, don't you think we're a little young? Think about the impacts alcohol has on our undeveloped brains and livers," Phoebe gushed, and Rhonda looked beside her impatiently.

"Yes, but think of the studies you could do on the influence it had on your brain, Phoebe," she scowled, and Phoebe brightened up a bit. It was clear she wanted to try it.

"Well, I guess it could work. However would we obtain it?"

"I know how," Helga said before she realised what she was saying, and she kicked herself mentally. These people weren't supposed to know about all the times Helga had downed her mother's drink to deal with her mother's own alcoholism, her father's ignorance and Olga.

"I…I mean I've heard of what to uh…"

"…you've been drunk before?" Rhonda gasped, and Helga facepalmed.

"Yeah, I have, and shut up while I tell you how to get the booze. You pour out the alcohol from your parents' booze- preferably a white drink like vodka- and replace it with water. Bingo, it's all yours,"

"Wow, Helga, you sure know your stuff," Nadine peeped beside her, and Helga shrugged.

"Yeah, well, Miriam helps with that," Helga snuffed, and Rhonda laughed.

"Guess having an alcoholic mother comes in handy!"

…Bitch!

The bell rang loudly and the girls made their way back to class, Helga deep in thought as she walked. She didn't know if she wanted to drink again. Drinking is what had led her to be so useless, powerless against Ryan. She knew she would be about a thousand times safer at Rhonda's than she was in the presence of a complete stranger, but still, she worried. A she sat down in her lone seat in maths she found herself reaching for the little blue book once again. Besides, she was already ahead in this class.

To drink, or not to drink,

That is the question at hand.

Hamlet once asked whether to be or not to be,

And I wonder, are our ponderings so different?

To be alive is to endure the pains and sufferings of life, is it not?

And to die, to sleep, aye, the rub indeed- who knows the consequences of the repercussions there?

And so I pose an alternative- To drink or not to drink?

Is to drink to suffer or to be sober to suffer?

In both cases I find myself suffering

But to sober is to be aware, to feel the heartaches and the thousand natural shocks. To sleep, to dream, is to be drunk, and be unaware of all that surrounds you.

And in this case, I think I choose death.

A/N: Chapter three is already done, so I'll have that one up soon too. And believe me, the next chapter has a whole lot happening in it! Get excited guys (when I said guys, it occurred to me that I might only have the one reader. That makes me a little sad.) Please review guys, it makes happy! ;D