Chapter Three of Helga G Pataki: Hillwood’s Superhero
This looks so good! I can't get over how talented you are, the colours are so vibrant and her expression is so classically Helga! I love this so much!!
I was able to squeeze some Shortaki into this recent chapter, so enjoy this excerpt!
“Look at this, Arnold!” I gestured wildly then pressed my fingers to the window. My shadow flailed along the ground, pinned there from the lights. “This jacket—isn’t it wicked cool?”
He blinked then looked at what I’d gestured at. My lips lifted into a grin as I followed his gaze and crossed my arms over my chest. Inside the shadowed store was a tall and shapely mannequin, dressed in the coolest looking bomber jacket. It was a cobalt shade of blue with white panels running down the arms. It had Chinese–designed imagery on both breasts—one a dragon, the other a tiger—best of all, it had Kiss stitched above the tiger. Yeah, that’s right, it was a vintage Kiss jacket.
“A jacket?” he asked and when I turned back, he was raising his eyebrow at me.
“Not just a jacket, football head,” I scoffed at him. “It’s—I mean, look at it, isn’t it awesome?”
“. . . I guess?”
I rolled my eyes, not liking that I was beginning to sound like the princess, and turned back to the window. I couldn’t explain it, but it was such a nice piece. I was still wearing my black hoodie everywhere which yes, was comforting, but it was old and worn. The elbows were close to being worn through completely and it did basically nothing to protect me from the cold. I could just imagine myself walking around wearing this jacket instead, with my sleeves rolled up and my fists in my pockets. I would look like such a badass, wearing this and some dark sunglasses while popping some pink bubblegum. So leader–like. I could pretend I was the head of a mega cool gang. I felt myself smile and wished I could scrawl my name across the back, so no one else would get it.
But I was starved for cash; I was already spending far more than the usual with all these afternoons spent out and the bus rides, there was no way I could add this on top of that.
I then heard something—a small snapping sound—and a bright flash engulfed my vision for a second. I blinked and started at the unexpected flash, then looked to the object in Arnold’s hand.
He was lowering his camera from his face, looking at the screen with a soft expression.
I scowled. “Hey, what the hell, football he—”
“Just look, Helga,” he interrupted and moved to my side.
I raised my gaze, catering to his much taller height, then saw that he was moving his camera toward me. I gave him one last glance then turned to the screen.
And blinked.
I was staring at myself. At a really nice photo of me. Not something I’d been expecting; when I put the pieces together and realised that Arnold had taken a photo of me, I’d assumed it was because I looked ugly or had a funny face. But no, I actually looked . . . really nice.
Light swelled and burst, a vivid shade of blue, which I hadn’t noticed when I’d approached the window. It softly washed over me and folded around my face, lifting my lips and gleaming in my teeth. But that was only one side of my face; while I was turned in the direction of the window, which showered me in blue, the streets behind me glowed like winterberries. The red streetlights weaved in and out, curling over my shoulders, and twisting with the shadows.
I turned my attention and noticed there was something different. There was a lightness to my expression; the weight that sagged in my features, my eyes especially, had momentarily left. So when I smiled, it shone from my eyes and revealed all of my teeth. Red light tangled with my hair, making the strands look like fallen fire, and my eyes were a rose velvet. It didn’t matter how plainly I had dressed, or that my smile was slightly crooked, there was a glow in my gaze that reminded me of the stars, and it made me glimmer.
“Holy shit, football head, I—wow,” I uttered then looked back at him. “You’re really good.”
He smiled. “I only take the pictures, Helga. This pic—it’s you, not me.”
I felt my cheeks burn and looked away before I could think too deeply about that. I found myself looking back down at his camera, at the image again. I looked so different, especially from how I saw myself. I looked so carefree, not only normal, but unlike the regular Helga. This wasn’t the Helga I showed to people at school, or even my friends. It was another side of me, a new me, and I didn’t know how I felt about it.
I then moved my hand up to my hair. Maybe Eugene had been right, maybe those ponytails really were doing me a disservice. I’d been hanging onto that style for reasons that borderline pathetic, and yeah, they really didn’t paint me very attractive. But looking at me now, with my hair swept over my shoulder like that, maybe change wasn’t a bad thing.
I looked back to see Arnold’s eyes darting away. I paused and frowned, watching as he awkwardly moved his mouth to the side and seemed to look everywhere but me. But I shrugged it off when I saw the time on my phone.
I whistled. “It’s gettin’ kinda late. Should we pack up for the night?”
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