Butterflies

chapter 1

I felt a strong hand squeeze my shoulder lightly. “Butterflies in your stomach, love?”

“Nope, they’re in my heart.” I slowly walked out of the wing onto the stage and the bright lights hit my face as I strummed the first note.

Three months earlier...

‘UGH!’ ‘Mm yeah’ ‘LaaAaaAaaAaaa’

I woke up with a shock of Cher Lloyd; ‘Want U Back’ blaring out of my speakers. I sat up out of my bed and brushed a long, wavy strand of golden blond hair out of my face and straightened my butterfly necklace that I never take off.  After I dragged myself out of bed, I walked over to my window and opened the curtains. A dull, gray London morning skylight lay out in front of me. I sighed and walked into my bathroom. Singing along to ‘It Will Rain’ while I was in the shower, during the bridge, I felt a sharp pain grabbed at the back of my knee.

“Great.” I said to myself as I watched blood from the razor cut trickle down my leg to the drain. I tried my best to carefully clean up the cut with a wash cloth enough to put a band aid on it.

 I dried my hair and brushed it letting it fall where it wanted to and keeping the natural curl and quickly put on my school uniform.

Fully dressed, I did a final look-over in my mirror.

Hair; fine. I noticed some split ends that were probably'' going to need to be tended to soon. But I didn’t care.

Face; fine. I don’t bother putting any make-up on. Never have, probably never will. I didn’t have acne, although I would sometimes breakout around my hairline if it was really hot and humid.

Clothes; can’t change it. I was kind of glad we had uniforms for school. Crazy I know. But when you have a uniform it’s less likely you’ll be judged by your sense of style. Everyone wears the same thing; no feelings are hurt because you can’t judge an article of clothing that you are wearing yourself.

I was big boned so it automatically looked like my hips were a little big. But really its bone. I was good height so it didn’t look to bad. I may have a little fluff on my torso but it’s still pretty strong. I never compare my self to other girls because my dad always said I looked like my mother, and I was happy with that

Exceptional appearance.

I looked over to my clock. 7:50. Science starts in 10 minuets. I quickly grabbed my laptop, phone and journal and stuffed them into my shoulder bag. My journal is not a diary, it is a song book and my necklace unlocks it.

Before I left my room I kissed my hand and touched it to a picture of my parents. I never knew my mother, she died while she was giving birth so I feel it was my fault but my dad said it had absolutely nothing to do with me. My dad died last year in a car wreck. He was every thing to me. Dad, teacher, doctor, coach, question answer, best friend, and home. He taught me everything I knew. Which is like EVERYTHING. Guitar, piano, singing, skateboarding, surfing, cooking, reading, writing the list could go on forever.  My dad was an explorer for this huge artifacts company so we traveled a lot.  Everywhere we went I learned many new things. My dad homeschooled me, but it wasn’t just math and spelling, it was the language and culture of any place we were in. We did school work on planes, but my dad made it fun, unlike how they teach me now.

I have lived many different places at many times. We’ve never stayed anywhere for to long. The longest, not including London, was six months in California USA.  I’ve been to every content (except Antarctica) and to a lot countries. I’ve met a lot of important people and people you can find sitting on the street. I’ve never really kept a friend for to long. Only my dad. He called me his little Butterfly. My mother loved butterflies. It’s actually my middle name, Addison Hope Taylor. A butterfly is the symbol of hope and my mother really liked that name so made it my middle name. I don’t know why it isn’t my first but butterflies are like my life now. Almost everything I own at least has a butterfly on it. My guitar and case, the picture frames with my parents in it, and my songbook and necklace. My dad got the locking journal with the butterfly necklace key for my 12th birthday when we were in China. It was his thing to give me stuff with butterflies on it. I miss that.