Lessons In Butterflies

Chapter 17: Fine. Totally fine.

Mr. Caldwell's POV (1st Person):

It was economics class, and something was off. I couldn't put my finger on it, but Shella seemed... different. Fuming, maybe? I caught her glaring at me at least twice, though I wasn't exactly sure why. 

Normally, she was quiet and focused, but today, she looked like she'd rather be anywhere else. I tried not to read too much into it—students had bad days all the time—but the tension was hard to ignore.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I watched as Shella packed up her things in record time. She was practically out the door before I even had a chance to dismiss the class. 

I had a stack of textbooks that needed to be taken back to the supply room, and I wasn't in the mood to do it alone.

"Dani," I called out just as she was about to escape, "could you help carry these?"

Dani froze mid-step, clearly caught in her attempt to make a break for it. She turned around with a sheepish grin. 

"Uh, actually, Mr. Caldwell, I really need to leave right away. I have... um... sports practice."

I raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second, but before I could argue, she grabbed Shella by the arm and practically shoved her in my direction.

"Shella can help!" Dani announced brightly. "She's great at carrying things." With that, she bolted out of the classroom before I had a chance to protest, leaving me standing there with a stack of textbooks and a very unhappy-looking Shella.

Great, I thought. Just what I needed.

Shella crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. "Fine. I'll help," she muttered, but it was clear she wasn't exactly thrilled about it.

I handed her half the stack of books, and she practically snatched them out of my hands. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the classroom, moving so fast that I had to jog to catch up with her.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light as I caught up with her.

She didn't slow down. "Nope."

"Really? Because it seems like—"

"I said it's fine," she snapped, not even bothering to look at me.

I blinked, taken aback by her sudden attitude. She never spoke to me like that. Ever.

 And that's when I realized I wasn't going to let this slide.

We reached the hallway near the supply room, and I stopped walking. "Okay, that's enough," I said, my voice firm. "If there's something going on, you need to tell me. Now."

She turned around sharply, clearly fuming. "You really want to know? Fine. I don't get why you're being such a jerk."

"A jerk?" I echoed, completely thrown. "What are you talking about?"

She looked like she wanted to throw the textbooks at me. "You snapped at me. Over the stupid drawing! It wasn't even about you, but you acted like I'd committed some kind of crime."

I blinked, realizing how badly I'd misread everything. "Wait, this is about the drawing?"

"Yes! It was just a dumb sketch, and you made me feel like an idiot for it," she said, her voice rising. "And now you're acting like nothing happened."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I hadn't meant to make her feel like that. It was a stupid overreaction, and I knew it. "Look, I didn't mean to snap at you. I was... out of line."

She scoffed. "Yeah, no kidding."

I took a step closer, trying to close the distance between us. "Shella, I'm sorry. Really. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. But I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."