Chance and the Butterfly (12 page)
“Then leave,” he spat out. “I don't care. I have to stay here.”
“Let's take him to the office,” Harmenjeet said.
“But he won't go,” Lori Mae responded. “He's just going to sit there.”
“I'll carry him if I have to,” Harmenjeet snapped. “We're supposed to meet everybody outside.”
Chance had a sinking feeling that she meant what she said. He watched her approach. She looked determined.
“I'm not going to the office,” he said, darting past her and out the door, coat forgotten.
He hadn't wanted to leave Matilda, even though he was pretty sure she would be all right now. But he was also afraid of what he would find outside.
There could be killing going on out there. Just like at recess. Only now there were so many more butterflies to kill. If he saw one kid holding a stone, or raising a foot to stamp a fragile red and black wing, he was going to turn into the Terminator. That kid would never throw or stamp again.
Chance searched the schoolyard looking for children on the attack. He searched the ground beneath his feet for shreds of wings, for broken bodies.
He found nothing.
The butterflies that had struggled to get off the ground an hour before were gone. They must have managed to fly. They must be safe. Chance's heart started to lift. And as his heart lifted, he looked up to the sky.
And as he stopped listening for sounds of hatred, he heard sounds of joy.
A group of children on the grass field were pointing up and calling, “Look, look!”
Chance followed their gaze. High in the sky, well out of reach of any child, two colorful spots fluttered against the deep blue.
Two painted ladies had stayed behind long enough to say goodbye.
Chance stood for a long, long time staring up into the sky. When he looked down, he noticed Mark up the hill on the soccer field. He had stopped playing and was looking up too. While Chance watched, Mark raised his hand in a sort of salute to the butterflies. Chance glanced once more up into the sky, and then he took off at a run for the playground past the soccer field.
When he got close to Mark, he slowed down and gestured upward.
“You saw them, huh?” he called out.
“Yeah,” Mark answered. “I saw them.”
After lunch, Chance counted the minutes. He knew it took about half an hour for the wings to extend fully and then another half hour for them to dry. He figured that Matilda's wings should be dry by now, but he wanted to be sure to give her enough time. He wanted to be sure that she was ready. He had decided that she needed one more hour.
First was shared reading. There was no way Chance could concentrate on a book, but he looked over at Ken, who was reading all alone again. Ken had partners assigned to him for every day, but if Ms. Samson wasn't paying attention, sometimes they went and read with someone else.
“Want to be partners?” Chance asked.
“Yes,” Ken answered.
It was that easy.
They ended up talking about Matilda.
After shared reading, they worked on their story-boards. Chance had no trouble working on his today. The story was happening right in the room while he was making pictures to go with it. But he left the last square of the paper blank. It might be unlucky to fill it in before it had actually happened.
Finally, he was sure that an hour had passed since lunch. Ken confirmed it.
“Will you help me release the last butterfly?” Chance said.
Ken's face lit up. “Let's go!”
Together they approached Ms. Samson.
“I want to let the butterfly go now,” Chance said.
“Yes,” she said quietly back to him.
“Can Ken help?” he asked.
“Of course,” Ms. Samson said.
While she got the cup ready, Chance and Ken watched Matilda. She perched on a branch, perfectly still, but Chance knew she longed to fly. And not just to another branch, but far away. He stood and watched her and waited for Ms. Samson.
Just as she had done earlier in the day with the other butterflies, Ms. Samson reached under the netting and gently put the cup over Matilda. Then she slid her hand over the top of the cup, holding the insect safe inside. When she had the cup outside the netting, Chance held out his hands. She let him take the cup and slide his palm over the top in place of hers.
He turned to Ken and held out the cup, but Ken shook his head.
“It is your turn,” he said.
Together they slipped out of the classroom, leaving behind the happy chaos of children drawing and writing and talking. The hallway was peaceful. Immediately to the right was the outside door. Ms. Samson pushed it open and let the two boys pass.
“I'll wait for you here,” she said. “Stay in sight.”
Chance moved away from the shade of the school into the brilliant sunlight. He turned and looked at Ken, who gestured upward.
After that, Chance did not hesitate. He took his hand from the top of the cup and looked inside at his butterfly. Then he grasped the cup with both hands and thrust it up into the air.
“Be free, butterfly,” he said.
And all the sadness and loneliness of the morning washed away as he watched her, not his butterfly anymore, take to the sky. For a rare moment he stood absolutely still as Matilda fluttered far above him against the blue. Then she vanished behind the school.
“She's free now,” he said to Ken and Ms. Samson as they reentered the school.
“Yes,” they replied together.
Back at his desk, Chance sifted through his pencil crayons. To do Matilda justice, he was going to need the bluest blue and the brightest orange.
Mark was a few minutes late picking Chance up that afternoon. When he arrived, the classroom was deserted except for Chance and Ms. Samson, packing away the butterfly bush. Mark stepped into the room.
“What happened?” he asked.
Chance stopped stuffing the netting into a bag and looked up, his face radiant.
“She's free, Mark,” he said. “Matilda's a butterfly now. She's free.”
Mark's whole body relaxed. He grinned.
“Hey, that's great news,” he said. Then, “Come on, Chance. It's time to go home.”
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank Cheryl Wainwright and her students for welcoming me into their classroom and helping me to get the caterpillar and butterfly details just right. Any errors that remain are, of course, mine alone.
Maggie de Vries is the author of seven books for children, including the picturebooks
Tale of a Great White Fish: a Sturgeon Story
and
Fraser Bear: a Cub's Life,
as well as
Somebody's Girl
, the sequel to this story
.
She lives in Vancouver on the banks of the Fraser River, and in recent years has grown increasingly fascinated by the fish that swim in the river and the birds that fly above it. Maggie also teaches creative writing at UBC and UNBC, travels regularly to lead writing workshops with children and teachers, and occasionally edits children's books.
