Chasing a Broken Butterfly

Chapter 9:

I make it with exactly 8 minutes to spare. Thank god I live only 4 blocks away. I would be absolutely mortified if I made it to class late and had to march back to the office to obtain a stupid pink slip. I've spent a majority of my high school years living in the solitude of the shadows. Being a nobody is really a lot more peaceful than some people give credit to. I'd really rather not draw any attention to myself today.

I grab my brown canvas bag and strap it on, grab my books and keys and place my phone in the back pocket of my jeans before I turn to race up the school's front steps.

I'm half jogging and half speed walking down the hallway when I spot Nathan leaning against the brick wall of the cafeteria. I slow my pace down and for some reason unknown to me, I come to a full stop. I feel as if my heart is going to pound right out of its chest. I blame the stairs...

He's leaning casually against the building wearing black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt under a black leather jacket, with laced up black biker boots. His brown, normally wavy hair is ruffled today like he just rolled out of bed. It gives the illusion that he has curls...I never thought about the fact that I might like curls on a guy, but today I think it's been decided. His hair is long enough that I want to run my hands through it, I hope that thought never comes out...I would feel very stupid and strange. He could totally pull of a rougher version of James Dean. God, he's beautiful.

Wait, why did I just think that? I think I'm going insane. It's his fault. The way his right foot is propped up against the building, as he leans back against it so carelessly, but yet so attractively.

Ugh. Freaking Nathan. We're in a learning environment not a modeling agency, I silently curse him.

He looks up from his phone and scans the area before his eyes find me. He raises an eyebrow at me as if to say "don't you have somewhere to be"? And of course I'd be standing here like an idiot staring straight back at him instead of continuing on like a normal person. If I ever had even a slight chance to be friends with him, I'm pretty sure I blew the opportunity out the window right this very moment. I look back down at the floor as I feel the heat rise in my cheeks.

I command my feet to move so I can get to class. They finally listen. I move right past him. Out of habit, I glance behind me and see Kylie running up the steps, making her way towards him. She looks beautiful today. Hell, she always does. With her perfect golden tan, long and lean legs, and hair the color of golden sun-rays always cascading down in perfect curls down her back. She never fails to grab the attention of every male in the room. She knows she's got it all and she never fails to flaunt it. To think that there was once a time when she used to be modest about it...

Her face is lit up and she's making exaggerated hand gestures directed toward Nathan. Probably telling him how awful it was that she didn't have the right shade of nail polish to match her outfit today, and was forced to run by the store before heading to school. She can be such a priss like that.

She's using her fake, high pitched voice, but I can't make out the words. Normally I'd be okay with that, but today is one of the few times I really wish I could.

The idea that Nathan was waiting specifically for her gets to me. I don't know why, but it does.

I sigh.

I don't know why I'd ever let myself think that Nathan and I had a chance to become friends at the very least. I'm already an outcast at my school, and he's the type that flows with the in-crowd. He's sociable. I'm not. He's charming. I'm awkward. We're very different people, from completely different worlds.

I make it to my Civics class just as the final bell rings. I don't see my teacher, so I hurry to try to take a seat before he notices my tardiness. I find a seat in the back and make my way to it. Just as relief that I wouldn't be caught begins seeping in, I hear a male voice exclaim out, "Excuse me, but I'm talking to you miss!"

I whip my head around and find my teacher standing in the front of the class with his arms crossed, leaning against his desk.

I gulp as I feel every head turn towards me, their eyes burning into me. This is why I hate drawing attention to myself. The pressure to make sure I stand as completely close to normality as I can is overwhelming.

"Did you not hear me?" he demands again.

"N-no," I stutter, "sorry I was just so wrapped up in my thoughts..." I lie. As much as I want to scream that he's an idiot for not realizing that I'm hard of hearing, I really don't want to confess such a personal thing to the rest of the class. They'll probably look at me like I'm an alien from outer space and start bombarding me with unnecessary questions to try to dissect me. Plus, it's not his fault. How is he supposed to know? For all he cares, I'm probably just an ignorant, rebellious teen who could care less about listening to rules and respecting school staff.

"Well then, you and your thoughts can spend a little more quality time together as you walk back to the office to get a tardy slip," the teacher shoots back.

I cast my eyes down and nod. I can feel my cheeks heat up for the second time today. That's a record for me. Today is going to be a long day. I can already tell. I silently get up from my seat and make my way out of the classroom.