It was the second week of Junior year at Hillwood High School.
Numerous students squirm restlessly in their noisy chairs during the assembly.
A usually bolder Helga chewed on the inside of her cheek. Her skinny fingers trailed over her cursive writing.
Her bottom lip poked out when her young instructor beelined over.
"Ms. Petty, do I have to read this to the whole school?" she glimpsed up at her.
The teacher moved her long, curly hair out of her face. "Helga, you are a part of this club, and everyone else reads their poem. It would only be fair for you to do the same," she explained matter-of-factly. Besides, don't you want to encourage other kids to join our new club?"
"No," she growled.
Ms. Petty rested her hands on her hips and cocked her head.
''You are next, young lady; put your chin up!"
Ms. Petty gave Helga a light push.
The fair-haired girl was fancied in one of Olga's bright-colored dresses from high school, which didn't look too outdated and fit her perfectly. She walked up to the podium with her gaze cast down. She pressed her hands firmly on the tanned-colored surface on top of her paper. Helga was grateful to be behind a large object so her peers couldn't see her legs wobbling.
Little beads of sweat formed on the back of her neck, due to the stuffiness of the teen-filled room and her nervousness.
Her eyes lifted to meet one of her worst fears… What seemed like a million judgmental or apathetic teens impatiently waiting.
Even though she was standing at a distance, with her 20/20 vision, she could see individual unimpressed adolescent faces and stern ones belonging to the faculty. Some were staring at their phones, whispering; some were snoring and nearly falling to the ground, while others were staring a hole into her forehead.
Helga gulped; it was a pretty intimidating sight.
While scanning the crowd, she spotted a familiar Poindexter-like face. He gave her an energetic and encouraging thumbs-up, and his over-the-top nature made her relax.
"Umm.." Her wide-eyed gaze lowered to her paper.
This is a poem called Unspoken Pieces, she began. After clearing out the frog in her throat and blowing out some lingering nerves she read;
I stand here now, a quiet storm
In halls where whispers chase their form,
You've seen me wear a scowl so tight,
A shield against the world's harsh light.
You think you know the girl I play—
The one who hides, who looks away,
But here's a truth you seldom see:
There's more beneath this crust of me.
Sometimes my heart feels like a storm,
A tangled mess of every form—
Confusion, dreams, and doubts collide,
In shadows where my fears reside.
Yet amid stormy skies,
I search for stars in disguise,
For even in the darkest night,
There's beauty hiding from our sight.
Behind the mask of frowns and sighs,
There's a longing for the skies,
A wish to find a softer way
To show my heart, to truly say:
"I'm more than just a fleeting glance,
A girl caught up in circumstance,
I'm trying hard to find my place,
To see beyond this common space."
So as you see me here today,
Now I'm unpeeling shades of gray,
Striving to be brave and real,
And hope that you can feel
The softer part I seldom show,
A truth I'm learning, step by step, to know,
That even in the stormiest seas,
There's room for hope and room for peace
She closed her eyes for a moment, completely vulnerable yet free. Thank you…" she breathed into the microphone and opened her eyes to applause, accompanied by a few obnoxious jeers.
Her white teeth showed as she took in the pleasant sound. It had been a giant leap for her to go from telling jokes on stage in the past to expressing her inner thoughts before an older and much bigger crowd. Most students figured she didn't have any deeper feelings. A few open-minded ones knew she had something more to her.
Helga walked backward away from the podium with her poem in hand, feeling the body heat of her peers surrounding her.
That wasn't so bad, she thought, relieved. I finally let some of this stuff out. Maybe I won't feel or look like such a basket-case next time.
She smacked her forehead with a humorous turn to her lips and noticed who was beside her.
"It's over.." she whispered to the freckled-face girl.
"Yeah, we did it." Samantha, who goes by Sam, replied by squeezing Helga's hand.
Sam was the top writer in the group and the entire school. Despite her usual confidence, Sam seemed relieved that the presentation was over. It made her feel less silly. Helga looked up to her quite a bit. Sam's writing gave Helga something to aspire. She was clever in her word usage and open in her expression of herself.
The five-member club came together with their teacher and took a bow.
In his pale grey suit, Principal Hernandez took long steps on the stage to approach the podium. "Okay, students, settle down. That was our last club presentation. Wasn't it wonderful?" He pointed to the small club behind him. They were all wonderful! You kids should be proud of yourselves. It takes real courage to showcase such talent." The principal clapped, and some of the audience followed suit. Alright, everyone is dismissed."
Helga and her group continued to talk to Principal Hernandez on stage, who gave individual praise and feedback.
Upon dismissal, you could feel a rumble of sighs and the smell of hot breath as everyone climbed to their feet to leave. The teachers and other staff stretched their stiff muscles and helped direct the students.
It had been an extended assembly.
Helga began to tune out her chatty school leader. Her eyes looked at the sky-high ceiling.
She knew her best gal pal would be proud of her and others she regularly spent time with. But she couldn't stop her thoughts from wondering about what a particular boy thought. The one she tried her hardest to forget...
