Butterflies With Blue Eyes

One

Carter Marx

I was always told to stop looking at things. People always told me to focus on what was in front of me. That was the problem. I couldn't focus on what was obvious. Something was programed in my brain; I noticed everything. I liked it that way. Everyone else was doing homework or shopping or sports and I was looking; watching. It was like the little details were mine, and mine only. It was like I had unlocked a new beauty in the world and I was the only one who could see it.

And I liked it that way.......
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"Okay class," Mr. Hart repeats after what seems like an hour of blabbing. "Let's get started."

He goes off on a rant about World War 2, but I don't pay any attention. I already know the outcome; it never changes. Hitler = bad. Mùrica = good. 6 million Jews dead.

I just stare out the window. The view is pretty spectacular. Since Mr. Hart's room is on the second floor. I can see the rolling hills of our small town. A forest lines a clearing just behind the school. I see the school yard; just a flat stretch of land carved out of the forest.

Normally, if the sun was out, bugs and birds would gather in the tree branches or in the field. Sometimes bugs and other things would land on the window.

After awhile, I learned quite a bit about the animals and insects.

I learned that the crows pretty much rule the roost. Literally. Even the blue jays feared them. Teresa was one particular crow, thought, that had a special power. He was the biggest one; the meanest, scariest, most feared one. I named him Sicarro, don't ask why. I just happened to really like that name. He had this wild pair of green eyes and a large white spot on his head.

I know it sounds weird, but I noticed that he refused to land on any tree except the large pine in the middle of the clearing.

I also, after a long time, noticed that the only insect that hadn't landed on the window was a butterfly.

They never landed on the window. Sure, they fluttered by but they never landed.

I was curious to know why. So, I watched them for a long part of Mr. Hart's speech.

"Carter?" A voice broke me from my thoughts. "Carter, can you answer my question?"

I looked in the direction of the voice. It was Mr. Hart's from the front of the rooms. All air left my lungs and all moisture left my mouth.

Everyone turned back to look at me. I immediately felt the clench of my chest and dizziness of the panic attack.

Over the years of constant bullying and being the outsider of the groupe, I started to have social anxiety and panic attacks. The attacks used to be few and far be between, but now it was often everyday.

I just looked down at my desk and lap, trying to breathe away the people looking at me. Tears gathered in my eyes. My vision blurred and my hands clamped. Lungs struggling to get air, I prayed that they weren't watching me. I hated when people saw me like this.

I looked up through my blonde hair to see the class had resumed back to whatever they were getting lectured about. My breath was still shallow for the rest of the class and I felt eyes glancing at me here and there.

Ding!

Talk about being saved by the bell.

I grabbed my books and pencil and practically sprinted out the door. I took a left towards the lockers. I skipped the old, crumbly tiles and only stepped on the new ones. Mist Wood High was a little short on the budget area.