Gracie's Wings

Chapter 1 ~ Strangers

***

"EARTH to Grace Clancy! Hello?"

I looked up from my paper and saw Mr. Avery at the top of the classroom, sitting comfortably in his soft cussioned chair. He twirled around and stared at me intensely, his eyes unblinking. He was frowning and his lips were pursed. I dropped the hand that was holding my head up, urging my mind to stay alert, or at least awake, and rested it on the table I was sitting at. I gripped onto front of the desk.

"Too busy daydreaming?" he asked, voice still harsh.

Anything is better than your English class, Sir.

I forced myself not to roll my eyes. Instead, I tapped my fingernails on the desk and bit the inside of my jaw. I wouldn't of minded some smartass remark any other day, but I wasn't in the mood for any kind of bullshit today whatsoever. Any day but today. But I kept silent, because I was already receiving more attention than I wanted to.

I wasn't even daydreaming in the first place. I was simply captivated by two small butterflies flying with a quick, light flitter outside the window. Mr. Avery probably just decided to pick me out because I was distracted for a minute or so.  They're simply infatuating. Butterflies, not Mr. Avery or his English classes. They are like flowers of the sky. Transient and fragile. Their delicate wings are like falling petals in the breeze, they reflet golden shards of soft sunlight. They were like fairies in disguise.

There I go again. Stay alert Grace, I told myself. I stopped focusing on the butterflies and glanced around the room for a millisecond. I was sitting somewhat towards the back, so I was able to observe everything discretly. Not that there was anything in particular to observe, unless you were besotted with the back of teenager's greasy heads. I looked straight at Mr. Avery again and he looked back at me as if I would actually answer his dull-witted question.

"Why don't you present your work on 'The Truth Behind Photographs' for the class," he stifled.

"If you even have the assignment completed."

I exhaled slowly, compelling myself not to say something I'd regret straight away, and stood up, holding my paper so it was legiable for myself. I began to read,

"The Truth Behind Photographs;

I look at this photgraph and I see a flower.

This flower is a different one however.

Unique, rare,

Scattered among a beautiful alignment of others.

Different, Alone.

I look at this photograph and I see a flower.

And I realise,

Although you have wilted,

and you have lost many of your leaves,

you are still the most beautiful flower

I have ever seen.

And I wish that I could convince you

that what you see,

It is not true.

This misery,

is found in you."

~

The rest of the day was an ongoing calamity. Unamed faces passing through the corridors haphazardly in an attempt to arrive at their class somewhat on time or get to the cafeteria before a swarm of more allies reached the required destination. I didn't care about any of this. I rarely did about anything. But hey, that's just me. Students crowded the lockers, like a pride of hungry lions feeding on their prey. The majority walking much like zombie-like figures, clinging onto books and folders for their upcoming classes.