Butterfly

Chapter 1
Butterfly

Exactly three minutes before the bell rang to signal the start of class, a girl casually lingered into the room, swaying her hips back and forth in her rear enhancing jeans to match each elegant step, adding a little hop into her public display in the short distance between the garbage can and the podium before narrowly avoiding a collision with another student forced her to reconsider her leisurely wander and direct all attention to the task at hand, finding her seat in the second row. Before looking down to pull out her chair, she performed a panoramic view at the rest of her fellow student body. Some were slumped over in their chairs, glancing up at the clock every few seconds awaiting the start of class, others nestled their heads in their arms or various articles of clothing to catch up on the sweet slumber they miss out on every night, gaining back those lost hours, one short minute at a time.

Junior year of high school left much to be desired, in comparison to the ages between those special few, they were only in the way, reminding you that nothing special, outside of an event unforeseen, was happening this year. The students had little reason at this point to show much enthusiasm towards their studies. Sighing heavily, she leaned her yellow backpack against the legs of the desk and sat down, absent mindedly staring forward playing with the butterfly clips in her blonde streaked dark hair.

The teacher rummaged through some old assignments in his bin with little motivation to correct or return them, flapped them onto another pile and leaned back, a red pen dancing between his fingers. The last hour of the day brought great anticipation from both sides of the playing field, students and teachers alike, whether it allowed time to perfect a golf swing, or spend unnecessary amounts of time in front of a mirror getting ready for a Friday night shindig, everyone could unanimously agree.

Unfortunately, practice would take the backseat to another pressing issue, one the teacher would notice with a less than appreciative half-smile as he peeled back the blinds to reveal the parking lot below directing small rivers from the current rain storm. In that same breath, our leading lady in this story glanced over, also with a less than pleasant look on her face as the tall awkward kid one chair over was obnoxiously laughing to himself in a sad and one might call horrifying fashion about some comic book. Still playing with the clips in her hair, she continued to stare at the boy, feeling embarrassed for him, then, over to her right the bell hung next to the clock began ringing, and the teacher made his way to the board to begin memorizing his lecture.

In anticipation of the long hour to come, she unzipped her backpack and pulled out a bottle of lemonade and a few leftover carrot sticks from lunch, munching them slowly as the teacher started his lesson plan. It sounded for the most like a poorly pasted together ransom note, little thoughtful consideration.

Realizing he was losing his students a little less than halfway into class, the teacher cried an outburst of enthusiasm for a question and answer session.

Twenty-third president of the United States?

Number of grooves in a quarter?

Teachers in this building?

My middle name?

These were a few of the randomized questions the teacher began with, and;

Benjamin Harrison

119

134

Eugene

Were a few of the more specific answers given in response, correctly, by our young lady eating carrots in the second row. Satisfied with her amount of participation for the day, she crossed her legs under the table and sat quietly as the other students let their voices be heard. She was a genius by no means, but clever enough to hold her own in a bout of trivial pursuit. She watched on as another watched her, cringing.

A girl in the back of the room, more commonly known as Evelyn Grace, Evi to her friends, tapped her fingers impatiently and aggressively. The two girls had known one another since the third grade, but Evelyn had been considered somewhat of a child prodigy since the first, impressing her teachers and parents. Unlike her carrot eating counterpart, whose wings were spread quite too far in the social world to begin even thinking about cracking open any books, she studied for several hours after school, nursing energy drinks by desk lamp light, getting a jump on tomorrow’s assignment. In spite of all this, they managed to do equally as well on test and quizzes. It was frustrating, those grades weren’t deserved. Just ask anyone, her parents would agree, grandparents, surely her aunt’s and uncles...she continued to mumble to herself in self assurance, piecing together slowly the workings of what would be a wish, closing her eyes, hoping and praying.

Setting back into reality, she opened her eyes and frowned slightly, looking over at her, still listening intently as before, finally focusing back on the teacher. The long drawn out speech forced her to direct her attention elsewhere, specifically, behind him where she noticed a pair of erasers on the chalkboard sparkle, if only for a second, before returning to their dull state. She put her hands on her desk and took a quick look around the room to see if anyone else had noticed, but no one seemed conscious enough to have even questioned it at that point.

She raised her eyebrows for a second round of confusion, falling back in her chair as the teacher stiffened up, turned to face the class, and without hesitation of any sort asked the girl, though it seemed he couldn’t remember her name at the moment, despite having repeated it only minutes ago, to drop her carrots, take the erasers outside and clap them.

Puzzled by this random demand no more than the rest of the class, most of who had perked up in light of this, she expressed her opinion on the rather outlandish statement with only a single question, why? Giving no answer, he only lowered his head and stared at her, his eyes more sunken and washed out in appearance. She rolled her own and walked to the front of the room, snatching up the erasers as she walked out with no haste in her step.

It was still raining outside as she peeked out from just under the overhang, reminding her that she was dissatisfied with the burden of her younger brother, the likes of whom she would have to babysit on this Friday evening instead of attending her friend’s party. Deciding to milk this rare gift, she sat down on a brick in-wall just outside the door and clapped the erasers away from her into the rain.

The chalk dust seemed to pour out of the erasers; the more she clapped the thicker the air seemed to get until there was a haze of chalk dust, almost opaque, nearly blocking her view of the other wall. She whisked her hand through it, stirring playfully graceful swirls, yet no chalky residue was leftover when she removed it. The particles weren’t dispersing like the wind factor would have otherwise decided, rather, all were directed, almost magnetized towards the continually growing cloud, a fact which seemed to bring a curious smile to her face, perplexing as it was. Before the chance to worry had the time to come and go, the cloud quickly engulfed her.

As she tried in vain to back out of the cloud, she began flailing the erasers around, as it sounded like the first logical and instinctual act to do when caught off guard. She was so overcome by the moment that she didn’t notice her hip hugging jeans loosening on her shrinking behind. The tight long sleeved t-shirt she was wearing was also starting to loosen on her arms, catching the whiplash as they spun about. Her face began to lose definition, adding freckles around her nose and rounding out slightly as the hair which had settled comfortably at her shoulder moments ago was pulling in, barely noticeable at first until it rose well above her shirt collar. Her hands, which every second were drawing further and further into the sleeves of the shirt, crossed in front of her dwindling chest, which had just begun to show less significance itself. As the years slowly fell away, the wrinkles increased in her shirt, hiding the print which had hinted at a sexual innuendo, an act she could no longer claim any relation with, falling past the age of fifteen, the first time she had experimented. Though still well endowed for a fourteen year old, she lost that claim to fame within the next couple of seconds, appearing as flat as the shirt that hung on her frame now, still whipping the erasers around, grasping them with the fabric of her shirt that covered her hands. She also started struggling with her pants, which had at that point fallen to where her hips used to be.

Around that same time at age ten, focusing on backing away caused her to fall out of her heel-less brown clogs, landing swiftly and harshly on the wet concrete. She had a momentary snap of reality when she blinked her eyes several times, breathing heavily as beads of water rolled down her cheeks. She looked toward her arm to see a half empty sleeve dragging through a puddle as she tried to push her arm through. She could feel her bra strap hanging on her right shoulder as she looked down the rest of her body, her pants hanging awkwardly off of her legs, almost down to her knees as a result of the fall. She pulled her head up to look over her knees to see her feet, her left still wearing a wet dangly sock, the right bare and cold as her view pulled up to see her other sock, still dry, in the same position she left it when her foot slid right out. She looked up for the last time, the unfamiliar scream of a little girl echoed off the side of the building as the chalky cloud made a dive at her.

A girl in the back of the room raised her hand. Curiosity fueled the extra hop in her step as she quickly made her way out of the room upon receiving permission from the teacher to use the restroom, which she trekked right past. She walked to an already propped open back door, not quite believing the scene laid out before her, yet a smile spread across her face. Near the door and in front of the only step lay two erasers, their usefulness unfamiliar outside of a classroom setting, though somehow appropriate at this moment. Between the two near the edge of the step were a pair of empty brown clogs, save for the single sock hanging out, calling for its partner. Just beyond the step, flat and wet, laid a pair of blue jeans, the tip of another sock just hanging out of the bottom cuff. She picked up the erasers and clapped them, looking away as if expecting something to happen. One eye still closed, she peeked to see that everything was still well with the world. She dropped them next to the door and brought her gaze to another soaked article of clothing, a wrinkled writhing shirt.

She used the folder she brought as an umbrella of sorts and walked over to the moving shirt. She pulled it back to the collar to reveal a small baby, one of the cups of her bra over her head acting as a makeshift water barrier, working very poorly. She removed the bra and tossed it to the side, noticing that the two butterfly clips were still hanging onto to whatever little hair still remained on her head. The rain against her skin caused her to start crying, flailing her pudgy arms around hoping for someone to come and pick her up.

Looking down at the small infant bawling, she curled her lips into a wicked grin and went for the girl’s pants pockets. She found her cell phone and checked the contacts for the first number she would assume was her home phone. It began ringing and she pulled it close to her ear, waiting for someone to pick up.

“I suppose I can sacrifice one night of studying to baby sit former competition, huh baby?

Won’t your parents be surprised?”