Lessons In Butterflies

Chapter 3: Fabric Discolourings

1st Person (His POV):

I stormed into my office, slamming the door behind me a little harder than I intended. Rubbing at my pant legs, I could still feel the cold dampness from the alcohol splattered all over me. 

The fabric was already starting to discolour, and I could feel the irritation growing inside me like a fire I couldn't put out.

What the hell were they doing in there? The science labs, of all places. During break. Without permission.

I tugged at my shoes, which were damp too. Fantastic. 

Just brilliant. 

My jaw tightened as I wiped them off with the edge of my handkerchief, trying to focus on the task instead of the anger boiling over in my chest.

And then there was the girl. She just threw the bottle. Like it was nothing. No thought, no caution, no sense of responsibility. What kind of person just tosses a bottle of alcohol across a room like that? 

I could've been seriously injured. 

What was she thinking?

I scrubbed harder at the stain on my pants, but my thoughts wouldn't stop racing. This was a disaster. I had a reputation to maintain, and here I was, covered in alcohol, dealing with two students who clearly didn't understand the meaning of rules.

My office was dim, lit only by the faint light sneaking through the blinds. The smell of disinfectant lingered from the cleaning solution I kept for emergencies like this. 

I tossed the handkerchief onto my desk, leaning back in my chair as frustration gnawed at me.

I shouldn't be this angry. But something about the whole thing just rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was the recklessness of it all. 

Maybe it was her.

The way she'd stood there, wide-eyed, looking like she wanted to sink into the floor. There was something about that look. Almost innocent, but not quite. She was old enough to know better, and yet...

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching my office. Before I had time to compose myself, the door creaked open, and I looked up to see a familiar face standing in the doorway.

"Rough day?" It was Trey, one of my colleagues,  leaning casually against the doorframe. His expression was somewhere between amusement and concern.

He was probably one of the teachers that worked here that didn't piss me off. 

"You could say that," I muttered, still rubbing at the alcohol stain that seemed to grow every time I rubbed at it. 

He stepped inside, taking one look at the state I was in and letting out a low whistle.  "What happened to you?"

I shook my head. "Don't ask. Two students in the lab, unsupervised, decided it was a good idea to throw bottles around like they were playing catch."

Trey raised an eyebrow. "You're kidding."

"Wish I was."

He chuckled, sitting down in the chair opposite me. "Which ones?"

"Juliet and... Shella." The name came out with an edge of frustration. 

That girl was going to drive me insane.

"Ah, Shella. I've heard about her. Smart kid. But she's got a bit of a reputation for... let's say, being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I grunted in response, still fuming. Smart or not, that didn't excuse her from being careless.

Trey smirked, watching me as I fought with the stain. "Looks like she got to you."