Chapter 7
''You're listening to 94.1, The Edge! Up next is…"
Blah blah blah blah. SHUSH.
She hit the off button.
Helga felt like a gloomy cloud hovered over her, and the sad part was, the day hadn't even started.
Helga went downstairs and into the living room to find her mom.
She should be on the couch as always…
Instead she found her on the floor sleeping. Helga rolled her eyes and lightly kicked her mom.
"Drank too much last night, Miriam?"
"Wait, Helga, why am I on the floor?" Drool hung out of Miriam's mouth.
"It's a mystery," Helga said with her usual sarcasm, "Listen, I was wondering if you had any lunch money for me."
"Um yeah, here, take my credit card."
Helga snatched the plastic out of her mother's hand and said, "Mom… I can't buy lunch with a credit card." Helga's face turned into a scowl.
"Sure you can sweetie! Now where did I put my blender?" And Miriam left the room in search of her precious mixing machine.
Helga groaned and left the house on her bike to deliver the papers. She looked up at the cloudy sky. The weather man said it was supposed to rain later, but the weather man typically doesn't know what he's talking about. Helga shrugged, and made her way down the typical Vine St. route that morning, but she couldn't help herself from being distracted by the big red boarding house along the way. As she tossed the paper to the front of the stoop, she suddenly stopped.
She stared at the front door with a look of longing and pity.
"Helga?"
Helga's stomach dropped as soon as she heard the sound of someone's voice. She turned around, prepared for the worst. The sight before her made Helga shrivel.
The tall kid, with an awkward head, and cornflower hair, the boy with the red hot lips. Arnold smiled at her, as if he was happy to see her.
"Hi Hel-" he was interrupted when she tripped over her bike and onto the trash cans behind her. Her pupils amplified so far until there was no more blue to be seen in them and her cheeks started to burn red. She stared at him for a good five seconds, then changed her look of pining to a look of hatred and said, "What football head? I've got to get going, I'm busy!"
Arnold held out a hand to help her up. But she pushed it away, and said "I can get up myself ya know. I mean, Criminey!"
"I just wanted to help…" he began.
"Well, you shouldn't have. I'm going to be late for…school…" Her voice shook.
"It's six fifteen, Helga, school doesn't start for another hour and a half…"
"Well, then what are YOU doing out here, anyway? Shouldn't you be sleeping? DOI! Maybe I'm just delivering papers for some extra money, anyway gotta go." And she rode off without giving Arnold a second glance.
Maybe if she had, she would have noticed the hurt in Arnold's face. He wanted to say so much to her, he had thought that their first REAL rejoice in two years would be so much different. Happier. She just kept closing him out and leaving.
Maybe I'll just talk to her at school. Arnold thought
"Alright everyone! I would like you to place your poetry assignments from last night on my desk, please. I know these will all be very speci-"
"Good Morning Hillwood! Here are your morning announcements…" A voice interrupted on the intercom. Mr. Simmons chose to direct the High Schoolers musical a few years ago, and ever since, he's been offered a full time teaching job. The classes he taught were Dramatics I and II, AP English, and Creative Writing, along with directing the musicals at Hillwood. He was very excited for this year's "special" musical; Phantom of the Opera. There were many wonderful actors in the show, and the ticket sales were supposed to be announced today.
After many useless messages, the announcement about the musical finally came on.
"A special shout out to all of the students who are a part of Phantom of the Opera! Tickets for opening night will go on sale today. Congratulations on all the hard work! Way to go guys! And as always, have a great day, and be safe." The speaker clicked off.
The kids arose with discussion about the cast, but Mr. Simmons quieted down the class to start his class. "People! People! Let's all quiet down, please!"
"Sorry Simmons, but we're all looking forward to seeing the twisted freak play the lead role." Retorted one of his favorite students, Helga Pataki. He smiled. Helga was an excellent writer ever since she was in his 4th grade class, and he loved reading her work. Sure, she was snappy sometimes, but she didn't bully the other kids like she did in elementary school. As a matter of fact, Helga had toned down quite a bit. She was a great student and sat in the front. But she didn't really talk much to the other kids in class, which concerned him. Maybe she just had friends in other classes or something. A lot of times, Helga would stay after school and help Mr. Simmons grade papers and things. When he asked her why she would stay after school, she would simply say, "It's better than staying at home."
"Actually Helga, Curly is a very special actor who has many unique qualities about him! I promise you, he is the perfect Phantom." He assured.
"Yeah, that's only cause he's a wacko, like the Phantom's supposed to be." She rolled her eyes, and suddenly the door at the front of the class creaked open.
A young man with messy blond hair, and a small blue cap walked in. It sort of looked like Arnold (he couldn't remember his last name) from his 4th grade class.
"Hi, Mr. Simmons," he spoke up, in a deep but calm voice. "Is this the right class? Creative Writing?"
"Arnold! Is that you? My, my, time flies by, doesn't it? Yes you're in the right class. We'll have to talk at the end of class, but for now, take a seat!" Mr. Simmons motioned toward a seat next to Helga. He caught a glimpse of Helga's body language which shouted "NO!" he couldn't do much about it though. It was the only desk available. "We were just about to begin. I have planned a very special assignment for you all! I want you all to write two short stories and we will share them at the end of class!"
He was answered by groans, although none came from the two kids sitting in the front. Mr. Simmons left the head of the class to his desk. He didn't know he was supposed to get a new student, most likely because he didn't check his email. Sure enough, there was an unread email notification on the computer:
From: malbertus
To: rsimmons
Subject: New Student
Hi Robert,
We've just been informed that we have a new student coming into your class. His name is Arnold, however, his parents didn't give a last name… he just moved here from San Lorenzo. He will be placed in your first hour Creative Writing Class. Please do your best to welcome him to Hillwood.
-Principal Mike Albertus, Hillwood Central High
So Arnold just moved back from San Lorenzo? Wow, how special. Mr. Simmons thought.
He began to correct the stack of poems on his desk. There was certain kids in his class that he knew didn't give any effort. For example, Wolfgang's poems weren't exactly quality work. Most of the time he wrote about taking advantage of his girlfriends. He read the Haiku in front of him by Wolfgang.
"That stupid bitch
She broke a table with my face
Why does she not like me?"
He shook his head. Mr. Simmons wrote on the top of the assignment, "No profanity please. Otherwise it was very special." He drew a small smiley and graded the next few poems. This one was by Gerald Johnson. Gerald liked to write short raps for his poems.
"The kid is back
The man with the small hat
He's jumpin' down the street
With a brand new beat
My oh my, he's so fly
He's gonna make it to the sky."
Mr. Simmons smiled, and wrote, "Way to be creative! That was very very special!" and added another smiley.
After several other poems, he came across one that made him stop and think.
"Bags under her eyes,
Her hair a mess,
Drink, drank, drunk,
The vile poison stains her dress,
How can I help her if I can't help myself?"
Mr. Simmons read the poem by Helga Pataki again. And again. Most of the time, Helga wrote about the loss of friendships, which was normal for teenage life. But the poem by Helga Pataki made him quite concerned. He wrote, "That was a very special free verse." What else could he write? She definitely followed the assignment, and took an extra step by letting her feelings out like he intended in his poetry assignments, but the dark tone given off by the poem made him fear for Helga's well-being. He set the poem aside to continue grading the rest.
The bell rang, and students started to file out the door, but he called a student over, "Helga! Do you mind if I talk with you for a second?" Mr. Simmons called. She shrugged and stood by her desk. But Arnold came to talk with Mr. Simmons too.
"Arnold! So nice to see you again! I heard you came back from San Lorenzo?" He held out his hand to shake Arnold's. Helga stood at her desk, waiting for Mr. Simmons to finish his rendezvous with Arnold. He was surprised she didn't act a little friendlier to him. After all, it was his first day back.
"Yeah, my parents and I were there for a few years for a nature study, but now I'm back. I didn't know you teach high school now." Arnold said.
"As a matter of fact I do, I'm directing the musical this year too. But I'm glad to hear you are doing well. If you need anything, let me know, I will be more than happy to help!" Mr. Simmons offered.
"Thanks, Mr. Simmons, I'll see you later." He smiled and walked away from the desk. "Bye Helga," he added. She stood there like a paralyzed squirrel, careful not to say anything. Her dilated eyes followed him out the door, and finally when he was out of sight, Helga relaxed. She strode over to Mr. Simmons' desk.
"What's the problem, Simmons?" she asked casually.
Mr. Simmons wanted to talk about her poem she wrote, and wondered how to approach this carefully, because he knew otherwise, Helga would snap. "That was a um…very special poem you wrote last night Helga."
"Oh. Thanks I guess." She said a little confused. "Is that all you wanted to say?"
"Uh…no Helga. I was just wondering if there is anything you need to talk about." He replied. Mr. Simmons knew that Helga had problems at home, and most of the time she knew how to handle them. That was very special for a young girl to be able to do. "You're a very special person, and I don't want anything to ever make you change, alright?" he added.
"Wait, what?" she held her books a little tighter.
"Helga, you're poem that you wrote for me seemed a little…well…dark… and I'm worried about you because I care."
"So what you're saying is, you think I'm crazy or something?" Helga raised half of her brow, and drummed her fingers on the back of her binder.
"I never said that Helga, it's just that I've known you for a long time, and you almost seem like a daughter to me. I just want you to know that if you ever need to talk about something, I'm here."
She studied him for a while, and then the drumming of her fingers stopped. It seemed like she considered taking up his offer right now, but she just said, "Thanks Mr. Simmons. I'll let you know if there's anything we need to…talk about." She smiled warmly.
"Alright, Helga I'll see you later then."
"Bye Mr. Simmons," she walked out of the room to journey off to her next class.
Ok, I realize that the poem I wrote for Helga is a dud. If she really wrote it, it would be amazing! But my poetry isn't that good. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter!
And as always, Save The Jungle Movie!