With a small, high-pitched yelp, Helga snatched the sheet of paper that contained a sonnet for a certain football-headed boy out of your hand, looking uncharacteristically flustered. The tough girl had reluctantly asked you, one of the only people she trusted, to come over to her place and study together, but instead you managed to confirm one of the worst-kept secrets in all of P.S. 118.

"D-Don't look at that!" she exclaimed, hurried stuffing it away. "That's not for your eyes! You didn't see anything, got it?!"